#I hope she continues to make content that shifts into what is her at the time
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
astrxq · 15 hours ago
Text
Stage Light, Palace Light .II
jacaerys velaryon x theatre!reader
words: 10.8k
notes: tumblr won’t let me post this as a full fic so i’m dividing in half… though i think that kind of takes away from the whole thing, it’s the only way for me to post it :(( i hope the length doesn’t scare you away 😭
content!!: jacaerys secretly attends a theater in town, disguised as a commoner. captivated by a fearless and enchanting penniless actress, he asks for a private reading of one of her plays for a chance to see her again. — luke is alive in this, notttt following canon events obviously.
both parts will be posted simultaneously!! so you don’t have to wait for me to upload it if you want to read it :) — [tap here for part 1!]
Tumblr media
Through the castle's stained glass windows, the moon cast fractured patterns across Jacaerys's chambers. He sat at his desk, turning the sapphire ring over and over in his hands, watching how the moonlight caught in its facets. The familiar weight of it felt wrong now, tainted by the memory of your fingers pressing it into his palm.
A soft knock at his door made him start, quickly slipping the ring onto his finger. "Enter," he called, his voice rougher than intended.
Lucerys's familiar silhouette appeared in the doorway. "Well, this is new," his brother said lightly, though his eyes were sharp with concern. "You're actually in your chambers at this hour? I had to check twice to make sure I had the right room."
Jacaerys didn't respond, his thumb absently running over the dragon engravings on his ring. Lucerys's casual stance shifted, and he closed the door behind him with deliberate care.
"Jace?" he asked, dropping the teasing tone. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," Jacaerys replied automatically, the practiced lie tasting bitter on his tongue. "I'm just tired."
Lucerys crossed the room, settling into the chair across from his brother's desk. "You've been 'just tired' all day. Barely touched your food at dinner. Haven't gone near the stables." He paused, studying Jacaerys's face in the moonlight. "Haven't sneaked out to wherever it is you've been disappearing to for the past months."
Jacaerys's hands stilled on the ring. He seemed to think for a second. “Yeah, just tired.”
“It blew up on your face, didn’t it?”
Jacaerys flinched at his brother's words, his fingers tightening reflexively around the ring. The moonlight caught his profile, highlighting the shadows under his eyes and the tension in his jaw.
"That obvious, was it?" he asked, his voice hollow.
Lucerys leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Only to someone who's been covering for you."
He watched as Jacaerys resumed fidgeting with the ring. In the dim light, it took him a moment to recognize the glint of their house seal on the sapphire ring.
"So that's where it went," Lucerys said softly, letting the door close behind him. "I thought you'd lost it."
Jacaerys didn't look up, his fingers still tracing the dragon engravings. "I did lose it," he said, his voice rough. "She found it."
Lucerys stilled. There was no need to ask who 'she' was – he'd watched his brother sneak out enough nights to guess. "Ah," he said carefully, moving to lean against the window frame.
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft scrape of metal against metal as Jacaerys continued to turn the ring.
"She gave it back," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Pressed it into my hand like it was burning her." He let out a bitter laugh that sounded more like a sob. "Told me to go home. To go back where I belong."
Lucerys watched his brother carefully, noting how his shoulders curved inward, how his normally perfect posture had crumbled.
"It was always coming, wasn't it?" Lucerys said softly, though there was sympathy in his voice. "You did lie to her, after all."
"You're not helping," Jacaerys snapped, the words sharper than he'd intended. His hands were white-knuckled around the ring now, the dragon engravings surely leaving marks in his palm.
"I'm not trying to help," Lucerys replied, moving closer to rest a hand on his brother's tense shoulder. "I'm trying to understand. All these months, what did you think would happen?"
Jacaerys shrugged off his brother's touch, standing abruptly. The moonlight caught his face, revealing the raw anguish there. "I didn't think," he admitted, his voice cracking. "I just... I wanted to be near her. To be someone who could be near her."
He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Gods, you should have seen her face when she realized. Like I'd broken something irreparable."
Jacaerys dropped his hands, staring unseeing at the moonlit patterns on his desk. "She called me 'Your Grace' at the end. Like she was trying to remind herself who I really was." His voice turned bitter. "Who I've always been, apparently."
Lucerys was quiet for a long moment, watching his brother's reflection in the glass. "What was she like?" he finally asked. "When you were just Jace to her?"
The question seemed to physically pain Jacaerys. He pressed his forehead against the cool glass, his breath fogging the surface.
The raw longing in his voice made Lucerys's chest ache for his brother. "And now?"
"Now she looks at me like I'm exactly what I am," Jacaerys said bitterly. "A liar. A prince. A fool who thought he could have something real in a life built on pretense."
Lucerys watched as his brother's fingers pressed against the window pane, leaving ghostly prints in the condensation. "She taught me her lines sometimes," Jacaerys said, his voice distant. "Said I had a gift for tragedy." A broken laugh escaped him. "I suppose she was right about that."
"Jace..." Lucerys started, but his brother wasn't finished.
"She tried to be so proper about it, so careful. 'My prince' this and 'Your Grace' that, like she was trying to build walls between us with every title." His forehead pressed harder against the window. "I think I preferred it when she was angry."
"Was she?"
"For a moment. But then she just looked... sad." Jacaerys turned suddenly, his eyes bright in the darkness.
"She has this laugh," he continued, "when something genuinely surprises her. Not the polite one she uses for the audience, but this bright, startled sound. And when she's really focused on something, she bites her lower lip, right at the corner..." His voice cracked. "Gods, Luke, what am I supposed to do?"
"You know what you have to do," Lucerys said gently. "What you've always had to do."
Jacaerys's forehead pressed harder against the glass.
"Brother..." Lucerys stepped closer, but Jacaerys waved him off.
"I can still feel her hands," he whispered, staring down at his own trembling fingers. "When she gave the ring back. She was so gentle about it, even then. Like she was afraid of hurting me, after everything I'd done to her." A ragged laugh escaped him. "She even fixed my cloak before sending me away. 'It's not safe for a prince to be out so late,'" he mimicked, his voice cracking on the words.
"You're going to make yourself sick," Lucerys observed quietly, noting how his brother's shoulders shook.
"Maybe I deserve to be," Jacaerys replied, but there was no heat in it, just a bone-deep exhaustion. He slumped back into his chair, the moonlight casting harsh shadows across his face.
Lucerys watched his brother for a long moment, then sighed softly. "I'll tell mother you've caught something," he said, moving to perch on the edge of the desk. "A fever or stomach ailment. Something that'll keep you out of court for a few days at least."
Jacaerys looked up sharply. "You don't have to–"
"Please," Lucerys cut him off with a wry smile. "You look wretched enough that no one would question it. And those tedious trade negotiations with the Iron Bank representatives can survive without you staring miserably into space."
"I wouldn't–"
"You would. You are." Lucerys gestured to where Jacaerys's fingers still worried at the ring. "Besides, I doubt anyone wants to hear your thoughts on maritime tariffs when you're like this. You'd probably accidentally start a war just to have something else to be miserable about."
That earned him a ghost of a smile, though it faded quickly. "The maesters will want to examine me," Jacaerys pointed out.
"Let me handle them." Lucerys waved a dismissive hand. "I'll tell them you've got that stomach bug that's been going around the kitchens. No one wants to get too close to that." He paused, studying his brother's drawn face. "Take a few days, Jace. Get some sleep. Stop turning that ring before you wear through it."
Jacaerys's hands stilled, though he didn't let go of the ring. "Thank you," he said quietly.
"Don't thank me yet," Lucerys replied, standing. "I'm still going to make you tell me everything about her eventually. When you're ready." He moved toward the door, then paused.
"And Jace? Try to actually sleep, would you? Brooding in moonlight might suit your current mood, but you look terrible."
"Thanks," Jacaerys said dryly, but there was genuine gratitude in his voice.
Once the door closed behind his brother, Jacaerys turned back to the window. The moon had shifted, casting new patterns across his chambers, but he barely noticed. His mind was still in a torch-lit theater, replaying the gentle pressure of your hands as you straightened his cloak one last time.
***
The days blurred together in Jacaerys's chambers, marked only by the rotating cast of concerned visitors. His mother would sweep in each morning, her silks rustling as she pressed a cool hand to his forehead, murmuring about his pallor. The maesters followed with their endless questions and concoctions, puzzling over symptoms they couldn't quite identify. None of them recognized the way his eyes kept straying to the window, to the city beyond where a certain theater's torches would be lighting for the evening performance.
Lucerys was the only one who didn't try to diagnose him, who simply sat in comfortable silence or brought books from the library that went unread. Sometimes he'd catch his brother staring at that sapphire ring and start talking about mundane castle gossip, a transparent but appreciated attempt at distraction.
Meanwhile, across the city, the theater carried on as it always had. You moved through your performances with practiced grace, delivering your lines perfectly, but something felt hollow now.
Each night, your eyes would drift to that shadowed corner where he used to sit, and each night you'd feel foolish for looking. The seat remained empty – not by design, simply by chance – but it felt like a physical presence, a reminder of everything that couldn't be.
Sometimes, during quiet moments between scenes, you'd catch yourself listening for familiar footsteps that never came. Your hand would brush against a dog-eared script, and you'd remember how he'd help you practice, the way his voice would shift with each character. The memory would make you pause, make your chest tight with an emotion you refused to name.
You told yourself it was selfish to miss him, to hope that somehow he'd appear in those shadows again. After all, hadn't you been the one to send him away? Hadn't you been right to do so? But still, each night, your eyes would search the crowd, and each night, that empty seat seemed to mock you with possibilities that could never be.
In his chambers, Jacaerys would press his forehead against the cool glass of his window, knowing that somewhere out there, you were performing. He wondered if you still bit your lip when concentrating on a difficult scene, if you still gestured with your scripts when explaining something passionate. He wondered if you thought of him at all, or if you'd already begun the process of forgetting the false dock worker who'd turned out to be a prince.
The week crawled by, measured in missed performances and untouched meals, in concerned looks and knowing silences. In the end, you were both right – it was impossible, it could never work, it had to end this way. But knowing that didn't stop either of you from searching – him through his window, you through your crowds – for something you knew you wouldn't find.
Lucerys had always been the softer of the brothers – both in appearance and temperament. Where Jacaerys had inherited their father's sharp features and commanding presence, Lucerys's face held a gentler cast, his smile coming easier, his manner more approachable. He was the one who smoothed ruffled feathers at court, who knew all the servants' names, who could talk his way out of trouble with nothing but charm and well-placed sympathy.
And he was also, notably, the one who meddled.
Which was precisely what he was doing now, standing before his mirror and adjusting a dark cloak that was decidedly less fine than his usual attire. His chambers were quiet save for the soft rustle of fabric as he secured the clasp, mentally reviewing the path through the castle that would draw the least attention. He'd spent enough time covering for Jacaerys's excursions to know exactly which guards were amenable to looking the other way, which corridors were least patrolled at this hour.
The Jacaerys he knew would have at least tried to sneak out by now, would have found some excuse to pass by the theater, even if just to torture himself with a glimpse. But instead, he'd spent the week alternating between staring out his window and turning that sapphire ring over and over in his hands, barely eating, barely sleeping.
No, this wouldn't do at all. And if Jacaerys wouldn't go to the theater, well... Lucerys tugged his hood lower, checking his reflection one last time. Someone would have to go in his stead.
After all, what were younger brothers for, if not to meddle in matters of the heart?
From his hidden vantage point in the shadows – the same corner his brother had haunted for months – Lucerys watched you command the stage. It took him less than a minute to understand why Jacaerys had been so thoroughly captivated. You moved with a natural grace that had nothing to do with practiced choreography, your voice carrying to every corner of the room without losing its intimate quality.
Your eyes would drift to this shadowed corner, just for a moment, before you caught yourself and looked away. It was such a small thing, so quick most wouldn't notice, but Lucerys saw how your smile would falter slightly afterward, how your hands would fidget with your scripts in a gesture that seemed born of recent habit.
He recognized the look in your eyes – he'd seen its mirror in Jacaerys's chambers all week. The same careful mask of composure, the same barely concealed longing, the same hurt trying to disguise itself as acceptance.
You nearly missed your cue when you first spotted the cloaked figure, your heart leaping traitorously before you caught the subtle differences – the softer jaw, the way he held himself without that familiar tension. When he shifted and scratched his cheek, revealing features that echoed Jacaerys' but didn't quite match, you knew exactly who had come to your theater.
As the last remnants of the audience filtered out, their conversations fading into the night, you moved through your familiar closing routine. Scripts needed to be gathered, props returned to their places, torches extinguished one by one. It was methodical work, the kind that usually helped quiet your mind after a performance.
But lately, each task seemed to carry its own weight of memory – the way he would help you sort the pages, how he'd lean against that column while you checked the props, his quiet laugh when you'd dramatically recite lines while cleaning.
You were reaching for a fallen script when you felt it – that familiar presence in the shadows. The quality of the silence was wrong, the weight of the presence slightly off. Still, you kept your back turned, your fingers gripping the script too tightly as you spoke.
"You know, for someone raised in a castle, you Targaryens have a terrible habit of lurking in shadows."
There was a soft exhale behind you – not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh – and you knew immediately it wasn't Jacaerys. This breath carried a different cadence, a lighter note.
"Ah," came a voice that was similar to his but softer around the edges, "I suppose some habits run in the family."
You turned then, slowly, to find a figure standing where Jacaerys used to wait. The hood was the same, the stance similar, but everything else was just slightly different – like looking at a familiar painting that had been done by a different hand.
"Prince Lucerys," you said softly, without hesitation.
You'd heard of him at public events, of course – the gentler brother, the one who could charm a crowd with a smile. He looked the same as Jacaerys, only with softened features which made it obvious he was younger.
Your hands fidgeted with the script, an unconscious echo of nervousness. "I assume you're not here to audition."
He pushed back his hood, his smile was apologetic, but his eyes were sharp with assessment.
"No," he agreed, staying where he was as if afraid of spooking you. "Though I must say, I understand now why my brother spent so many nights here. You're quite captivating on stage."
You turned away, busying yourself with straightening already-neat piles of parchment. "If you're here about Jacaerys–"
"He doesn't know I'm here," Lucerys interrupted gently. "In fact, he'd probably be furious if he knew. He's spent the week in his chambers, supposedly ill with some mysterious ailment that has the maesters quite confused."
Your hands stilled on the papers. "I'm sorry to hear he's unwell," you said carefully, your voice steady despite the way your heart clenched. "But I'm not sure what that has to do with me."
"Isn't it obvious?" Lucerys's voice was kind, almost too kind. "He's not sick. He's heartbroken."
You closed your eyes briefly, willing your voice to remain neutral. "That's hardly my concern anymore, Your Grace."
"Please," he said, "if you're going to break my brother's heart, you might as well call me Lucerys."
When you faced him again, Lucerys's expression held none of the accusation you'd feared. Instead, there was something almost sad in his smile, like he was watching a tragedy unfold on stage.
"I didn't–" you started, then stopped, unsure how to finish that sentence. Didn't mean to? Didn't want to? Both felt like lies, and you'd had enough of those lately.
"I know," Lucerys said softly. "Neither did he." He moved closer, but carefully, like approaching a nervous animal. "He's been staring out his window for days, you know. Always in the direction of the theater. Turning that ring over and over until I thought he'd wear a groove in it."
Your throat tightened at the image. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I've never seen my brother like this before." Lucerys's voice was quiet but intent. "He's always been the perfect prince – duty first, propriety above all. Until you." He tilted his head, studying you. "Do you know what he said to me? That you taught him how to laugh. How to be human."
You turned away sharply, but not before he caught the flash of pain across your face. "It doesn't matter what he said. What either of us said. Some things are impossible."
"Impossible?" Lucerys repeated thoughtfully. "Or just difficult?"
"Both," you said firmly, though your voice wavered slightly. "He's a prince, I'm a–"
"A remarkably talented performer who made my brother happier than I've ever seen him," Lucerys interrupted. "Who, if I'm not mistaken, misses him just as much as he misses you."
"That's not fair," you whispered.
"No," he agreed softly. "None of this is fair. But I'm not here to talk about what's fair. I'm here because my brother hasn't eaten properly in days, because he looks at that ring like it's both salvation and torture, because he keeps whispering your lines to himself when he thinks no one can hear."
A bitter laugh escaped you, though it sounded more like a sob. "The night he lost the ring..." You shook your head, turning back to face Lucerys. "He was already pulling away. Even before I found it, he was... distant. Guilty. Like he'd finally remembered who he was, who I..." You swallowed hard. "It was so easy to believe he'd just wanted some fun with a common girl. A story to tell his noble friends about the theater performer he'd charmed."
Lucerys's face softened with understanding. "That's what you thought? That he was just..."
"What else was I supposed to think?" Your voice cracked slightly. "He was withdrawing, making excuses, before he even knew I had the found his ring." Your fingers twisted in your skirts.
"He was scared," Lucerys said quietly. "Not of you finding out, exactly, but of losing you once you did. He'd convinced himself that the moment you knew who he really was, everything would change."
A sad smile crossed his face. "I suppose he was right about that, at least."
"Everything did change," you whispered. "Because everything had been a lie."
"Was it?" Lucerys asked, his voice gentle but challenging.
You pressed your lips together, fighting back the sting in your eyes. "It doesn't matter if they were. A prince can't... we can't..."
"Can't what?" Lucerys pressed. "Can't care for each other? Can't find moments of happiness in each other's company?" He paused, watching you carefully. "Can't love each other?"
The word hung in the air between you, making your chest ache. "Please," you said softly, "don't make this harder than it already is."
Lucerys sighed, running a hand through his hair in a gesture so similar to his brother's that it made your heart clench. He was quiet for a moment, his eyes distant as if working through a puzzle. Then he looked at you with renewed focus.
“What if..." he started, then paused, choosing his words carefully. "What if the castle requested a reading of one of your monologues?"
You stilled, looking at him warily. "What?"
"It wouldn't be unusual," he continued, his voice taking on that careful diplomatic tone you imagined he used in court. "The castle often hosts performers. And that piece you did tonight – the one about the warrior queen – it has historical significance. Educational value." His lips quirked. "The sort of thing that would be entirely appropriate for a royal audience."
"Are you..." You shook your head in disbelief. "Are you trying to orchestrate an official reason for me to..."
"To be in the castle? Where my brother wouldn't have to sneak around in hoods and lies?" Lucerys shrugged, but his eyes were sharp. "It would be completely proper. Above board. Just a performer doing what performers do – sharing stories with those who wish to hear them."
"My prince–"
"Lucerys," he corrected gently.
“Lucerys," you amended, "you can't possibly think that would solve anything. One performance wouldn't change who he is, or who I am, or–"
"No," he agreed. "But it might be a start. A chance to see each other in the light, without pretense." He tilted his head. "Unless you truly don't want to see him again?"
The question hung in the air between you, heavy with possibility.
***
Lucerys burst into Jacaerys's chambers with more force than necessary, finding his brother surrounded by the usual crowd of concerned maesters. The room smelled of various herbal concoctions, and Jacaerys looked thoroughly miserable as they debated his mysterious symptoms.
"Out," Lucerys commanded, channeling their mother's authoritative tone. "All of you. I need to speak with my brother."
The maesters hesitated, exchanging glances. "My prince, we haven't finished–"
"You've been 'not finished' for a week," Lucerys cut in. "And remarkably, my brother is still alive. Now out." He softened it with a diplomatic smile. "Please. Court matters."
Once the door closed behind the last grumbling maester, Lucerys turned to his brother. Jacaerys was still in bed, looking pale and disheveled, the sapphire ring glinting on his finger.
"Get up," Lucerys said, moving to Jacaerys's wardrobe and pulling out clothes.
"What?"
"Up. Now." Lucerys threw a fresh tunic at his brother's head. "You need to be dressed and presentable in the next quarter hour."
Jacaerys caught the tunic reflexively but didn't move to put it on. "Why?"
"Because," Lucerys said, now rummaging for appropriate boots, "there's going to be a performance in the great hall, and you need to look like a prince instead of a lovesick ghost."
"I'm not attending any performances," Jacaerys said flatly, though something flickered in his eyes at the word.
"Yes, you are." Lucerys threw a pair of boots beside the bed with more force than necessary. "It's a historical piece. Very educational. Mother specifically requested your presence."
"Luke–"
"And," Lucerys continued, now advancing on his brother with determined purpose, "if you don't get out of that bed right now, I will tell mother exactly why you've been 'sick' all week. I'm sure she'd love to hear about your nightly visits to the theater district."
Jacaerys stared at him, a mix of betrayal and confusion crossing his features. "You wouldn't."
"Try me." Lucerys grabbed his brother's arm, physically pulling him up. "Now get dressed. And for gods' sake, do something with your hair. You look like you've been wrestling with ravens."
"Luke, what are you–"
"Twelve minutes," Lucerys interrupted, already heading for the door. "If you're not ready by then, I'm sending the maesters back in. All of them. With their most experimental remedies."
The door closed behind him with a decisive click, leaving Jacaerys standing bewildered in the middle of his chambers, clutching a fresh tunic and wondering what exactly his brother had planned.
Jacaerys stood at the back of the great hall, tugging uncomfortably at his formal attire. The past hour had been a blur of Lucerys's insistent shepherding, servants fussing with his appearance, and his own mounting irritation. Now he lingered in the shadows – a habit he couldn't seem to break – watching as various nobles filtered in.
"Stop fidgeting," Lucerys murmured beside him. "You look like you're attending an execution rather than a performance."
"Maybe I am," Jacaerys muttered back, his fingers absently finding the ring on his hand. "My execution, if Mother realizes I'm not actually sick."
"You'll thank me later."
"Doubtful." Jacaerys leaned against a column, falling into the familiar melancholy that had haunted him all week. Even the grand hall's usual splendor seemed dulled, the afternoon light filtering through the high windows doing nothing to lift his spirits. His mind kept drifting to another performance space, torch-lit and intimate, where—
The great doors opened, and two members of the Kingsguard entered. Jacaerys barely glanced up, used to the ceremonial display of court life. But then he caught a glimpse of who they were escorting, and his whole world tilted on its axis.
You stood between the guards, clutching a script in hands that trembled slightly. You wore your best performance dress, your hair arranged more formally than he'd ever seen it, but you were unmistakably, achingly you. The afternoon sun caught you differently than torchlight had, making you look both familiar and strange, like a dream he'd had too many times to count.
His breath caught audibly, making Lucerys smirk beside him.
"Luke," he whispered, his voice rough with panic and something else entirely, "what did you do?"
But Lucerys just smiled, watching as you were formally announced to the court. Your eyes hadn't found Jacaerys yet, fixed carefully on some middle distance as you followed the guards' lead. But your fingers worried at the corner of your script in that familiar way that made Jacaerys's chest ache.
"Breathe, brother," Lucerys murmured, noting how Jacaerys's hands had gone white-knuckled on his chair's armrests. "She's here to perform the warrior queen's monologue. Very educational. Historical significance and all that."
"I'm going to kill you," Jacaerys breathed, but he couldn't take his eyes off you. You looked so out of place and yet so perfectly right, like a character from one of your plays stepped into reality.
And then you looked up, your eyes finally meeting his across the great hall. The script trembled visibly in your hands for just a moment before you steadied yourself. Something passed between you in that look – recognition, longing, fear, hope – all wrapped in the formal distance required by your surroundings.
Jacaerys forgot to breathe entirely.
"Kill me later," Lucerys said softly, satisfaction clear in his voice.
"For now, just watch. And breathe, for gods' sake, before you actually do need those maesters."
But Jacaerys barely heard him. He was too caught up in the way you held yourself – proud despite your obvious nervousness, every inch the performer even in these overwhelming surroundings. You looked different in the daylight, more vulnerable somehow, but also stronger. The sun caught the subtle tremor in your hands as you opened your script, a gesture he'd seen a hundred times in candlelight.
A hush fell over the hall as you began to speak. Your voice carried differently here than in the theater, the acoustics grander, but the emotion in your words was just as intimate. It was the warrior queen's monologue – the one you'd practiced with him late one night, when he'd read the opposing lines and you'd laughed at his terrible attempts at different voices.
He knew every word, every pause, every subtle shift in your expression. But watching you now, in the harsh light of reality rather than the forgiving shadows of the theater, felt like seeing you for the first time all over again. You weren't just performing for the court – you were commanding the space, making the grand hall feel as intimate as your small stage had been.
His fingers found the ring again, tracing its familiar edges. You reached a particular line – one where you always bit your lip slightly before delivering it – and his breath caught again as you did exactly that, the gesture so achingly familiar it hurt.
"Stop looking at her like that," Lucerys whispered. "People will notice."
"How else am I supposed to look at her?" Jacaerys breathed back, not taking his eyes off you.
"Like a prince watching a performance," Lucerys replied. "Not like a man watching his heart perform in front of the entire court."
But it was too late for that kind of pretense. Because you'd reached the climax of the monologue – the part where your voice always carried a particular kind of raw honesty – and your eyes found his again, just for a moment. In that look was everything: the nights in the theater, the weight of secrets, the gentle press of your fingers returning his ring, the impossible distance between who you both were and who you'd pretended to be.
And Jacaerys knew, with sudden, crushing clarity, that he would never be able to look at you any other way.
Queen Rhaenyra leaned forward slightly in her seat, her eyes bright with genuine interest as your performance drew to a close. The great hall remained silent for a heartbeat after your final words, before breaking into appropriate, measured applause.
"Remarkable," she murmured, her voice carrying that particular tone that made both her sons tense slightly. "To memorize such a lengthy piece..." She turned to Jacaerys, and there was something knowing in her smile that made his stomach drop. "Wouldn't you agree, sweetling?"
Jacaerys forced himself to meet his mother's gaze, though he could feel Lucerys shifting nervously beside him. "Yes," he managed, his voice steadier than he felt.
"The theater district has always produced exceptional talent," Lucerys offered smoothly, but Rhaenyra's attention remained on her eldest son.
"Indeed," she said softly. A small smile played at the corners of her mouth as she watched Jacaerys's fingers unconsciously find his ring again.
He forced himself to meet her gaze, finding not the judgment he feared but something softer, more knowing.
"Mhmm," Rhaenyra hummed, her eyes drifting back to where you stood.
"The court always needs cultural enrichment," she said, rising gracefully. "And that was indeed an... educational performance." Her eyes met his, sharp with understanding. "Perhaps we should arrange more of them."
Your voice carried through the final lines, steady despite the way Jacaerys could see your hands trembling slightly around your script. The court burst into appreciative applause – of course they did, how could they not when you'd made the grand hall feel as intimate as a torch-lit theater? – but he barely heard it over the rushing in his ears.
You dipped into a perfect curtsy, every inch the professional performer. But as you straightened, your eyes found his again, and for a moment the carefully constructed walls of propriety cracked. There was something raw in your expression, something that made his chest ache with recognition.
"Breathe," Lucerys murmured again, nudging him slightly. "The entire court doesn't need to see you looking like you've been struck by lightning."
But how could he breathe when you were there, so close yet impossibly far, being led away by the Kingsguard as formally as you'd entered? Your back was straight, your steps measured, but he knew you well enough to see the tension in your shoulders, the way your fingers still worried at the corner of your script.
"I need to–" he started, already half-rising from his seat.
Lucerys caught his arm. "Not yet," he said quietly. "Wait until the court disperses. Unless you want to cause a scene that would make both your positions more difficult?"
Jacaerys sank back down, his fingers finding the ring again. A nervous tick of his.
"Turns out," Lucerys said softly, watching as you disappeared through the great doors, "You’re not the only one who's been miserable this past week." He paused, then added, "She looks at that empty seat in the theater the same way you look out your window, you know."
Jacaerys closed his eyes briefly, the words hitting him like a physical blow.
Lucerys's words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, but they ignited something sharp in Jacaerys. His eyes snapped open, narrowing as he turned to his younger brother, who was still watching the now-closed doors with a smug, self-satisfied expression.
"You went to the theater?" Jacaerys hissed, his voice low and furious.
Lucerys barely spared him a glance, his nonchalant demeanor only fueling Jacaerys's anger. "Someone had to check on her," Lucerys replied, crossing his arms. "You certainly weren't going to."
"You had no right," Jacaerys snapped, keeping his voice low enough to avoid drawing attention but failing to mask the edge of his temper. "You don't get to meddle in this. Do you have any idea–"
"Do you?" Lucerys cut him off, his tone sharper now as he turned to face his brother fully. “I brought her here, didn’t I?”
Jacaerys stiffened, his jaw tightening. "That’s not the point, Luke. You went behind my back–"
"Because you weren’t doing anything!" Lucerys shot back, his voice rising slightly before he checked himself, glancing around the room.
"Luke..."
"She'll be escorted to the eastern solar," Lucerys continued casually, as if he hadn't just shaken his brother's entire world. "To rest after her performance. It's only proper to offer refreshments to our honored performers, after all." He stood, stretching deliberately. "The guard rotation changes in about ten minutes. Just in case you were wondering, though I bet you knew that already."
With that, he left Jacaerys alone with his thoughts, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the great hall as the court slowly emptied around him.
Jacaerys found himself standing outside the eastern solar far too soon and not soon enough. His heart hammered against his ribs as he noted the momentarily empty corridor – Lucerys's timing, no doubt. The same patterns of afternoon light that had caught in your hair during the performance now spilled across the floor at his feet, making patterns that reminded him of torch shadows.
He raised his hand to knock, then hesitated. What could he possibly say? 'I'm sorry' felt inadequate. 'I miss you' felt too raw. 'You were magnificent' felt too formal. All of them felt like poor substitutes for the tangle of emotions in his chest.
Before he could decide, the door opened, and suddenly you were there. You must have heard his footsteps, must have been waiting. You wore the same dress from the performance, but your hair had started to escape its formal arrangement, soft wisps falling around your face in a way that made his fingers itch to brush them back.
For a long moment, you just stared at each other. The silence stretched between you, heavy with everything unsaid.
"My prince," you finally murmured, dropping into a curtsy that felt like a blade between his ribs.
"Don't," he whispered, the word rough in his throat. "Please, not you. Not after..." He gestured helplessly, unable to find words for what he meant. Not after you'd known him as just Jace, not after you'd laughed with him in shadows, not after you'd taught him how to be human instead of just a prince.
You straightened from your curtsy but didn't meet his eyes, your fingers worrying at your script in that achingly familiar way. "I don't know what else to call you anymore."
"My name," he said softly. "Just... just my name. Like before."
Your eyes finally met his, and the raw honesty there made his breath catch.
“How are you?" he asked softly, the question feeling simultaneously inadequate and overwhelming. He wanted to ask so much more – how had your week been, did you still bite your lip when practicing new lines, did you miss him as desperately as he missed you?
You let out a small, bitter laugh. "I'm..." Your fingers traced the edge of your script. "I've been better. The theater feels... different now."
"Different how?" His voice was barely above a whisper, afraid to break whatever fragile moment this was.
"Emptier," you admitted, then seemed to regret the honesty. "Though that's foolish, isn't it? It's not as if we ever sold out performances. One empty seat shouldn't matter."
"But it does," he said quietly, understanding exactly what you meant. His fingers found the ring again, a habit he couldn't seem to break. You noticed the movement, your eyes following it before quickly looking away.
Your eyes lingered on where his fingers traced the ring before you forced them away. "I suppose it does," you said softly. "Though it shouldn't. Just like I shouldn't keep expecting to turn around and find you in the shadows."
"I wanted to come back," he admitted, his voice rough. "Every night this week, I've stood at my window, thinking about how easy it would be to just..."
"Put on a hood and pretend?" There was no bite to your words, just a quiet sadness. "We can't go back to that, Jacaerys. You know we can't”
The sound of his name on your lips made his chest ache. "I know. But I miss..." He paused, struggling to find the right words. "I miss how you'd gesture with your scripts when you were excited about a scene. How you'd laugh when I tried different voices for the characters. How you–“
"Please don't," you whispered, but he continued anyway, the words spilling out like he couldn't stop them.
"How you'd bite your lip right before a difficult line – like you did today, with the warrior queen's speech. How you'd let me help you practice, even though I was terrible at it. How you made me forget about titles and duties and just feel..."
"Real?" you offered quietly, and he nodded, the simple word capturing everything he'd been trying to say.
"You were the most real thing in my life," he said, taking a step closer. "Are. The most real thing."
You didn't step back, but your fingers tightened on your script. "And what good does that do us? Being real doesn't change who you are, or who I am, or what's possible between us."
"Doesn't it?" He was close enough now to see the subtle tremor in your hands, to catch the faint scent of stage powder that always clung to your clothes. "You're here now, in the castle. Properly, formally. No hiding, no lies."
"For one performance," you reminded him gently. "One afternoon of pretending we're not what we are – a prince and a common performer who forgot their places for a while."
"Is that all it was to you?" he asked, his voice barely audible. "Just forgetting our places?"
Your eyes met his, and the honesty there made his heart stutter. "You know it wasn't," you whispered. "But sometimes knowing that makes it worse."
He wanted to reach for you, to brush back those escaped strands of hair, to remember how it felt to be close without the weight of titles between you. But he kept his hands at his sides, one thumb still absently tracing the ring.
"I dream about you," he admitted softly. "About the theater, about your laugh, about... about everything we could have been if I'd just been honest from the start."
"And what would that have changed?" you asked, but your voice wavered slightly. "Would it have made me more suitable? Made the court more accepting? Made any of this possible?"
"Maybe not," he conceded. "But at least it would have been real from the beginning. At least we could have faced it together, instead of..."
"Instead of me finding out from a ring?" The words were quiet but they hit home, making him flinch.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Gods, I'm so sorry. I never meant..."
"I know you didn't," you said softly. "That's what makes it harder. Nothing about this was meant to hurt anyone, and yet..."
You took a shaky breath, taking a small step back. The afternoon light caught the unshed tears in your eyes, making them shine. "And yet here we are," you said softly, "still hurting each other by wanting impossible things."
"They don't have to be impossible," he said, but even he could hear the desperation in his voice. "We could..."
"Could what?" Your smile was gentle but heartbreaking. "Could meet in shadows forever? Could pretend that duty and birth and responsibility don't exist?" You shook your head. "You're a prince, Jacaerys. A good one. The kind who puts his people first, who understands duty, who..." Your voice caught. "Who shouldn't be asked to choose between his birthright and a common girl who performs in torchlight."
"Don't," he whispered, "don't talk about yourself like that."
"Like what? Like the truth?" You gestured to your performance dress, to the grand solar around you. "Look at where we are. Look at how many plans and schemes it took just for me to be here properly, just for one afternoon." Your fingers brushed his sleeve, so lightly he might have imagined it. "You belong in sunlight, my prince. Not hiding in theater shadows."
"I belong with you," he said roughly, but you were already shaking your head.
"No," you said softly. "You belong to your people, to your duty, to your name. And I..." You smiled, though it trembled at the edges. "I belong to my stories, to my stage, to the world we create in torchlight."
He reached for you then, unable to stop himself, but you stepped back. "Please," he whispered, though he wasn't sure what he was begging for.
He caught your wrist just as you were turning away, his touch feather-light. The guards would be returning any moment, but he couldn't let you leave, not yet, not like this.
"Would it be terribly improper," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion, "for a theater performer to give the prince a goodbye kiss?"
You stilled, your back still to him, and for a moment he thought you would refuse. But then you turned, slowly, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of longing and resignation that made his chest ache.
“Terribly," you murmured, but you were already reaching for him, your fingers ghosting along his jaw. "Absolutely forbidden."
He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly. "I won't tell if you won't."
Your laugh was soft and broken, but then your lips were on his, gentle and desperate all at once. It was different from your kiss in the town’s shadows – more bitter, more final. He could taste the salt of tears, though he wasn't sure if they were yours or his.
His hands found your waist, pulling you closer for just a moment, memorizing the feeling of you against him one last time. Your fingers curled into his formal clothes, and he felt the script press between you, a reminder of everything that separated you.
The kiss ended too soon, both of you aware of the approaching sound of armored footsteps. You pulled back just enough to rest your forehead against his, your breath shaky.
And then you were gone, slipping back into the solar and closing the door between you just as the guards rounded the corner.
Jacaerys touched his fingers to his lips, where he could still taste the bittersweet mix of your kiss and your tears. The guards nodded respectfully as they passed, never knowing that they'd just missed watching a prince's heart break in the afternoon sun.
He turned from the solar, still touching his lips, only to nearly collide with his mother. Her silver hair caught the afternoon light, her expression curious as she steadied him.
"Careful, my love," she said, then peered past him toward the solar door. "Has our performer already left? I wanted to congratulate her personally. That warrior queen monologue was quite moving."
Jacaerys struggled to compose his features, though he knew his mother's sharp eyes missed little. "I believe she's still..." his voice cracked slightly. He cleared his throat and tried again. "She's still inside, yes."
His mother's gaze sharpened, taking in his flushed face, the slight redness around his eyes, the way his fingers kept straying to his lips. "Feeling better, I see," she said carefully.
"Much better," he managed, though the words felt like ash in his mouth. "The maesters were very... thorough."
His mother studied him for a long moment, her eyes lingering on where his thumb was absently tracing his ring. Something flickered across her face – understanding, perhaps, or memory – but she simply smiled and patted his cheek.
"I'm glad," she said softly. "Though perhaps you should rest a bit more. You still look... unwell." There was a gentleness in her voice that made his throat tight, a careful kindness in how she didn't mention the obvious tears in his eyes or the tremor in his hands.
"Thank you, Mother," he whispered, grateful for her pretense, for allowing him this small dignity in his heartbreak.
She squeezed his arm once, then moved past him toward the solar door.
Then she was gone, slipping into the solar to congratulate the performer who had so moved the court, leaving Jacaerys alone in the corridor with the ghost of your kiss on his lips and his mother's words echoing in his ears.
He touched his mouth one last time, then forced his hand down to his side. The afternoon sun continued to spill through the windows, indifferent to how it had witnessed both a kiss and a farewell, both a beginning and an end.
Somewhere behind that closed door, you were probably curtsying to his mother, probably hiding your own tears behind proper words and formal gestures. And he would never know, because some moments couldn't last, no matter how desperately you wished they could.
***
The light was fading from Jacaerys's chambers, but he hadn't bothered to light any candles. He sat in his window seat, absently watching his younger brothers play on the floor with their wooden dragons. Aegon was making elaborate swooping noises while Viserys carefully arranged his army of carved soldiers.
The door opened quietly, and their mother's familiar silhouette appeared. Queen Rhaenyra smiled at the sight of her youngest sons sprawled across the floor, their games having thoroughly disrupted the usual order of the chamber.
"Mother!" Viserys called out, abandoning his soldiers to run to her. She caught him easily, pressing a kiss to his dark curls.
"My little dragons," she said warmly, then looked up at where Jacaerys sat, still staring out the window. The same window, she noted, that faced the direction of the theater district. "Jace?"
He turned slightly at his name, though his fingers continued to trace the sapphire ring. "Yes, Mother?"
Rhaenyra studied him for a moment, taking in the shadows under his eyes, the tension in his shoulders. "Walk with me?" she asked softly.
Aegon looked up from his dragons, his young face scrunching in concern. "But Jace was going to tell us about the warrior queen! He promised!"
"Later, little one," Rhaenyra said, giving Jacaerys a meaningful look. "Your brother and I need to discuss some matters of court."
Jacaerys stood slowly, like every movement cost him effort. As he passed his brothers, he ruffled Aegon's hair, managing a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'll tell you the story tonight," he promised. "All about the queen who had to choose between her heart and her crown."
Rhaenyra's expression softened at his words, and she held out her arm for him to take. Together, they left the chamber, leaving the younger princes to their games and wooden dragons, unaware of the real dragons that sometimes had to sacrifice their hearts for duty.
Jacaerys walked beside his mother through the sun-dappled corridors, his heart still heavy in his chest. She kept a leisurely pace, her silver hair catching the light as she spoke.
"You know," she said casually, as if discussing the weather, "mothers have a particular talent for knowing when their sons are lying." She cast him a sideways glance. "Even when those sons think themselves quite clever about it."
Jacaerys's steps faltered slightly. "Mother–"
"Your brother, for instance," she continued, her lips quirking in amusement, "is not nearly as accomplished at deception as he believes. He told me so many times that you were ill, I half expected to find you on your deathbed." She paused, her voice softening. "Instead, I found you sneaking out to the theater district nearly every night."
He stopped walking entirely, his face draining of color. "You knew?"
"My love," she said gently, turning to face him, "Did you think the town guards wouldn't recognize you, even in the dark?" Her eyes were kind as she studied his stricken expression. "Though I must admit, I didn't realize quite why you were so drawn to that particular theater until today."
Jacaerys closed his eyes briefly, his fingers fidgeting again. "I never meant to…”
"Lie?" His mother's voice held no accusation, only a soft understanding that somehow made it worse. "No, I don't suppose you did. Sometimes the heart leads us to do foolish things, even with the best intentions."
She reached up, smoothing an errant strand of hair from his face in a motherly gesture that made his throat tight. "Though next time," she added with a hint of wry humor, "perhaps don't make your brother work quite so hard to cover for you. The poor boy nearly tied himself in knots trying to explain your mysterious ailment to the maesters."
Jacaerys felt a flush of shame creep up his neck. "I'll apologize to Luke," he murmured. "I shouldn't have involved him."
"No," Rhaenyra agreed, though her eyes held a glimmer of amusement. "Though I suspect he rather enjoyed the intrigue of it all." She began walking again, drawing him alongside her. "Tell me about her."
The words caught in his throat. He'd spent so many nights watching her on stage, memorizing every gesture, every lilting note of her voice, and yet now he found himself struggling to capture her essence in words.
"She's..." Jacaerys started, then faltered, unsure how to describe the way you made torchlight feel like sunlight, how you could make a cramped theater feel like the grandest hall in the realm. "She's remarkable," he finished softly.
"Yes," Rhaenyra agreed, a small smile playing at her lips. "I rather thought so myself when I spoke with her." She glanced at her son, noting how he tensed at her words. "She was quite composed, you know. Though her cheeks were rather flushed, and her eyes..." She paused delicately. "Well, they matched yours in their redness."
Jacaerys's fingers tightened around his ring. "Did she seem..."
"Heartbroken?" Rhaenyra supplied gently. "Yes. Though she tried admirably to hide it behind proper courtesies and formal words." She squeezed his arm. "She has a strength about her, your performer. Even in grief, she carried herself with dignity."
"She's not mine," Jacaerys whispered, the words raw in his throat.
"No," his mother agreed softly. "Though I suspect she wishes she could be, as much as you wish you could be hers."
She stopped walking, turning to face him fully. "You know, when I went to congratulate her, she was standing by the window, touching her lips." Her eyes held a knowing sadness. "Much like you were when I found you in the corridor.”
Jacaerys felt heat rise to his face, but his mother only smiled.
"She spoke beautifully of the theater," Rhaenyra continued. "Of the magic of stories, of how a simple stage can become a battlefield or a lover's garden or a storm-tossed ship." Her voice softened. "She reminded me rather a lot of myself at that age – so certain that duty and heart could never align, so resigned to choosing between them."
"Did they?" Jacaerys asked quietly. "Align?"
Rhaenyra's smile held centuries of understanding. "Sometimes," she said. "When we're very lucky, or very brave, or both." She reached up to cup his cheek. "The realm needs its stories, my love. Its theaters, its performers, its moments of magic in torchlight." She paused meaningfully. "Perhaps even its princes who understand the value of such things."
Jacaerys stared at his mother, hardly daring to hope he understood her meaning. "Mother?"
"The court does need cultural enrichment," she said carefully. "And it would be a shame to let such talent remain hidden in the lower town, wouldn't it?" Her eyes sparkled with something that looked suspiciously like mischief. "Though perhaps next time, we might arrange it without quite so many elaborate deceptions and mysterious illnesses."
For the first time in days, Jacaerys felt something like hope flutter in his chest. "You mean..."
"I mean that there are many ways to serve the realm," Rhaenyra said softly. "And many ways to honor both duty and heart, if one is clever enough to find them." She squeezed his arm. "Though perhaps we might start with properly introducing your performer to the court, rather than having her sneak in through side doors?"
Jacaerys let out a breath that was half laugh, half sob. "I don't deserve your understanding."
"No," his mother agreed, her eyes twinkling. "But you have it anyway. That's rather the point of being a mother." She began walking again, drawing him alongside her. "Now, tell me more about these performances of hers. I found her warrior queen quite compelling – though I suspect you found all of them equally so?"
As they walked through the fading sunlight, Jacaerys began to tell his mother about torchlit evenings and practiced lines, about the magic of stories and the girl who brought them to life. And if his voice caught sometimes, or if his fingers still worried at his ring, Rhaenyra pretended not to notice, content to let her son's heart begin its slow journey from breaking to healing to, perhaps, hope.
***
The whispers started the moment his horse's hooves touched the cobblestones of the theater district. Faces appeared in windows, merchants paused mid-transaction, and children stopped their games to stare openly at the prince riding through their streets in broad daylight.
No hood this time. No shadows to hide in. The sun caught the sapphire of his ring as he dismounted, the same deep blue as the formal clothes that marked him unmistakably as Prince Jacaerys Velaryon.
The theater looked different in daylight. Smaller, perhaps, though no less beloved. The morning light caught the faded paint of its facade, highlighting worn spots he'd never noticed in the torchlight. The poster from your last performance still clung to the wall, the edges curling slightly in the breeze.
He could hear your voice before he even reached the door – not performing, but running lines to yourself the way you always did during morning rehearsals. The sound made his heart stutter in his chest.
The door was unlocked, as it always was during rehearsal hours. He paused with his hand on the handle, remembering all the times he'd slipped in through the back entrance, hood drawn close. But that wasn't who he was today. Today, he was exactly who he was meant to be.
The hinges creaked – they always had, though the sound seemed louder now – and your voice cut off mid-line.
You stood center stage, script in hand, frozen in the shaft of sunlight that streamed through the high windows. Your practice dress was simpler than your performance attire, your hair loose around your shoulders the way he'd rarely got to see it. The surprise on your face would have been comical if it weren't for the way your hands started trembling.
"My prince," you breathed, already dropping into a curtsy. "I... we weren't expecting..."
He took a step forward, then another, letting the door fall closed behind him. The familiar smell of dust and wood and old velvet wrapped around him like a forgotten embrace.
"I missed morning rehearsals," he said simply.
Your laugh was shaky, uncertain. "You never attended morning rehearsals."
"No," he agreed, moving closer still. The floorboards creaked under his formal boots – so different from the soft shoes he'd worn in his disguise. "But I always wanted to."
You watched him approach, your eyes darting between his face and his clothes, lingering on the way sunlight caught his ring. "The whole district will be talking," you said softly.
"You're causing quite a scene," you murmured, nodding to where the whispers had started up again outside. "The prince, in a common theater..."
"Good," he said simply. "Let them whisper. Let them see." His voice softened. "Let them understand that their prince values more than just swords and politics – that he values stories, and art, and..." He reached up, his fingers ghosting along your cheek. "And the people who bring them to life."
Your breath caught at his touch. "Jace..." The name slipped out before you could stop it, and you immediately pressed your lips together, as if trying to take it back.
"Say it again," he whispered, his voice rough. "Please. Say my name."
You hesitated, your gaze searching his as though you might find some answer hidden in the stormy depths of his eyes. His touch was warm, grounding, and yet it set every nerve alight, a paradox you couldn’t quite reconcile.
“Jace,” you breathed, softer this time, as if the name itself was fragile, something precious you were afraid to break.
His eyes closed briefly, the sound of it a balm to wounds you didn’t even know he carried. When he opened them again, the intensity in his gaze pinned you in place.
“I’ve spent too long as a title, a duty, a shadow. But when you say my name…” He exhaled, shaking his head. “I feel like myself again.”
"I love you," he said simply, his hand still extended. "In shadows and in sunlight, in torchlight and in truth. And I'm done pretending otherwise."
Your hand trembled as you reached for his, your fingers hovering just above his palm. "Your mother..."
"Knows," he said softly. "Has known, apparently, for quite some time." His lips quirked in a small smile. "She thinks the court could use more cultural enrichment."
You stared at him, comprehension dawning slowly. "That's..."
"A way forward," he finished gently. "If you want it. No more shadows, no more hiding. Just... this. You, and me, and your stories. In sunlight."
Your eyes were bright with unshed tears, but your smile – your smile was like watching the sun rise. "You impossible man," you breathed, shaking your head as a laugh escaped, soft and disbelieving. “Do you have any idea what you’re asking of me?”
“I’m asking for everything,” Jace said, his voice steady, though his hand still hovered just short of yours, waiting. “And I’m offering the same.”
Your fingers trembled as they reached for his, but you didn't pull away. "The court won't like it," you whispered, even as your hands intertwined. "A common performer, elevated so high..."
“The court will do as the Queen says,” he said, a grin appearing to cover half of his face.
You laughed softly, though it caught on something that might have been a sob.
"This is the most real thing I've ever done." He glanced around the theater, at the dust motes dancing in the morning light, at the worn stage beneath your feet. "This is me, standing in sunlight, telling you that I love you. That I've loved you since you first made me believe in the magic of stories. That I want to build something with you – something that serves both the realm and our hearts."
Your breath hitched. "You've never said that before," you whispered. "That you love me."
"I was a coward," he admitted, bringing your joined hands to his lips. "Hiding behind a hood, pretending I could keep my heart separate from my duty." His eyes met yours, clear and certain. "I'm not hiding anymore."
The sound of whispers outside grew louder – more people gathering, no doubt, to witness their prince standing in a common theater, holding hands with a performer in the morning light. But for once, you didn't pull away, didn't try to maintain proper distance.
His smile faltered slightly. "I'm sorry," he started, but you shook your head.
"Don't be," you said, squeezing his hand. "We needed that time – those moments in torchlight, when we were just ourselves. It let us..." You paused, searching for words. "It let us build something real, before we had to figure out how to make it fit in the world."
"What happens now?" you asked softly, your free hand coming up to trace the formal embroidery on his sleeve – so different from the plain clothes he'd worn in shadows.
"Now," he said, smiling slightly, "you finish running your lines. And I..." He glanced at the script still clutched in your hand. "I help, badly, the way I always did. Though perhaps this time I won't have to whisper."
You laughed then, real and bright, the sound echoing off the theater's walls. "You were a terrible scene partner."
"I was," he agreed, grinning. "But I made up for it with enthusiasm."
"You did," you said softly, your eyes dropping to his lips for just a moment. "Though I seem to remember you being better at other kinds of performance."
His breath caught as you stepped closer, your fingers trailing up from his embroidered sleeve to the collar of his formal coat. "Oh?" he managed, his voice rougher than before.
"Mhmm," you hummed, rising up on your toes. "Would you like a demonstration?"
The sunlight caught the gold in his eyes as they darkened, his hands tightening on your waist. "I believe," he murmured, "that would be most educational."
You tilted your head, your hand brushing up to cradle his jaw, the stubble beneath your fingertips grounding you. His lips hovered close – so close you could feel the tremor of his exhale against your skin. And then, finally, he leaned in.
The kiss was soft at first, as if he feared breaking you. His lips brushed against yours in a way that sent a shiver through your body, light and careful, but quickly deepened into something fuller, something aching. His mouth opened slightly, inviting you in, and when your tongue slipped past the curve of his lower lip, he groaned low in his throat – a sound that sent a thrill rippling down your spine.
It was wet, eager, yet tender, a dance of give and take, of exploration and familiarity. His hand splayed wide against your back, pressing you closer, as though proximity alone could erase the years spent apart, the careful boundaries you'd both maintained.
Between breaths, his lips barely parted from yours, you murmured, “I love you.”
The words spilled from you like a secret too heavy to carry anymore, your voice trembling with raw honesty. His response was immediate – a sharper pull, his lips chasing yours with urgency, his tongue sweeping against yours in a way that made your knees weaken.
When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads pressed together as his thumb traced lazy circles on your jaw. His eyes searched yours, a soft smile curving his lips despite the heat still pooling in his gaze.
“I take this as a yes?” he murmured, his grin widening when you laughed softly and kissed him once more, just to tell him yes without words.
Outside, the morning sun continued its climb through the sky, painting the theater district in shades of gold. The whispers would spread, the stories would grow, and soon all the realm would know of the prince who chose a performer, who dared to love in sunlight rather than shadow.
But in that moment, standing on your worn stage with his arms around you and the taste of his kiss still on your lips, none of that mattered. You had found your way back to each other, not in the secretive depths of night but in the honest light of day. And this time, neither of you was letting go.
Tumblr media
taglist: @smurfelle @elliaze @sillylittlepenguin181818 @lustrz-anna @lovelyteenagebeard @misshale21 @cecestea @n4tsha @inspirationquxxn @rin588 @anoravx @bbubbllejisoo @vividxpages
gc lovelies tags: @benjinotes @earth4angels @xxselenite @eldrith @princessbellecerise @bryscorner @v3laryons @vee-mage @softspiderling @swordgrace @hxtd @divinesolas @housetargaryenloyalist @bucksplum @cregan-starks @fyrewept
39 notes · View notes
legendoftherisingtide · 2 years ago
Text
I feel like I’m falling in love with Jaiden all over again. Shoutout to the ones who were there in her animations days! But also a huge welcome to all the new fans of her new content. Like it is unbelievable that a childhood hero is still reaching new audiences and people, I am so happy.
106 notes · View notes
arolesbianism · 1 day ago
Text
Shakes and cries I wanna make Jackie parent hc designs but I can't because potentially one of them is a prevalent character now and her ass has not spoken a single line yet so I both know nothing and can't just start making shit up yet </3333
#rat rambles#oni posting#I hope alan shows up at some point I need to know what one alan stern is up to so badly#I mostly am hoping things stay relatively vague with the family drama but I would like a sense of what they're personalities are like#if for no other reason than wanting more proxy fuel for jackie character analysis#but alas there will likely be quite the wait until we get new story content again#which Im fine with to be clear I want them to take their time to polish things#especially since the last two dlcs were so close together#plus Id like to see some new bionic dupes before then as well#I assume new bionic dupes will come as we get more stuff but itd be comforting to see all that stuff not be locked behind a whole new dlc#Im fine with dlc exclusive dupes dont get me wrong I just don't want the oni team to build a situation in which the bionic boosterpack#starts to retroactively feel like an unfinished product due to basic things such as a decent dupe selection being locked behind other dlcs#I rly hope that new bionic dupes are sprinkled throughout different qol updates or something like that instead#other than that I have no real expectations for what comes next gameplay wise Im simply content letting the oni team cook#I just am also going to be a big baby abt wanting new lore already the entire time because I wanna draw alan nowwwwwww#I also need to know if jackie's maybe brother is older or younger than her this is so important#since I very first read oni stuff I have seen her as the youngest of 2 and I would rather have them shatter that image sooner than later#I still Want him to be older but I am very willing to accept my hcs being obligerated with jackie#the last time they did it it was entirely for the better and I trust that when they inevitably do it again it will also be for the better#that being said I do want to announce I take it all back abt wanting more joshua stuff Im too attached to my hcs let me have this#joshua is the one oni character where I just like fully let loose my ideas upon it would be so easy for it all it crumble into dust#and like I would adapt and be fine but I would rather get to keep the ever growing chunk of my oni playlist he takes up in tact#thankfully I feel fairly comfortable that most the relevant guys in the basegame story aren't going to be too much of a presence for now#we seem to be getting more focus on general worldbuilding and less on preexisting characters#most glaringly olivia has basically been a complete nonpresence in both dlcs so gar#nikola and ashkan both continue to be the offhand mentioned but outside of them the focus seems to be shifting towards new characters#in particular I find it fun that gossmann has been mentioned in both of the recent dlcs making me wonder if shes going to be smth of a#nikola like character for the upcoming dlcs#also please let b. boson be burt please please please please please I need my boy to be real#I'm inclined to say he also certainly is but there is a world where boson is a rando so I can only be so confident
0 notes
gloomwitchwrites · 2 months ago
Note
Overheard confessions part 2? You over hear them confess to the team about how they love you and want to have an army of kids with you...or like a lot of dogs on a farm lol
Tumblr media
Don't mind me, I'm just shrieking like a hyena over here. I am obsessed with the idea of a part two but from the opposite perspective. What happens when we hear the guys making the confession. I had way too much fun with this one. Just pure glee. Enjoy! (Find Part 1 HERE.)
For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE
Task Force 141 x Female Reader
Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, swearing, breeding undertones, suggestive themes, mild alcohol/smoking, fluff, implied sexual content, mild dirty talk
Word Count: 2k
ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist
Tumblr media
John Price
“You’re a mess, John.”
You clutch the manila envelope to your chest, coming to a dead stop just outside Captain Price’s office. The door is cracked, your hand pressed flat against the wood with the intent to enter. That flies out the coop. You’re glued to the spot, listening as Laswell continues to speak.
“Have you been getting enough sleep?”
“Care about my sleeping habits, Kate?”
Laswell snorts. “You look tired. What’s on your mind?”
There is a stretch of silence. You don’t dare breathe—don’t dare move. When Price doesn’t answer, you hear Laswell sigh. It’s not an annoyed sound, but one of pity. She knows what troubles him.
“It’s the secretary. Isn’t it?”
A secretary? What secretary?
You comb through all of them in the building. There are only a handful of you—maybe ten total.
“It’s nothing, Kate.”
“Just admit how you feel, John.”
Your hand drops from the door and crosses over your chest. The manila envelope crunches softly against your breasts as you squeeze it tighter.
“What do you want me to say? That I fancy the woman?” He scoffs.
“Yes,” replies Laswell. “It’s that simple.”
Your mind races. Of the ten secretaries in the building, there are maybe three—including yourself—that this could apply to. A blossom of hope blooms in your chest, a racing sensation of your heart palpitating. You shouldn’t wish for it, but for it to be you?
No.
“I’m her superior.”
This time, Laswell scoffs. “She’s not even your secretary, John. She’s mine, and I think you need to say something to her.”
Oh fuck.
It’s you. They’re talking about you.
“Really, Kate?”
“Really, John.” Laswell sighs. “Not to be crude, but maybe if she were getting laid, she wouldn’t hide my cigarettes when my wife tells her to.”
“Christ, Laswell.”
“No, John. Tell me how you feel about her.” He doesn’t. “I’m waiting.”
You hear a grumble on Captain Price’s end, then, “I want to make an army of kids with her. I want to wake up with her beside me and for her to be near when I sleep.” He pauses. “I like the way she throws her head back when she laughs. Her smile.” Then, softly, “I love everything about her.”
There is a tap tap tap of a shoe against linoleum, and then someone’s walking toward the door.
“That’s it, John. Just tell her how you feel and—”
The door opens wide, revealing you. Captain Price and Laswell both freeze. Price’s face goes from surprised to a dark shade of pink. Laswell’s shifts to a knowing smirk.
“Is that the file I asked for?”
“It is,” you affirm.
Laswell nods. “Hand it over to Captain Price. He needs to take a look at it first.”
“Laswell—”
“Goodnight, John,” she calls out, shutting the door behind her, leaving the two of you alone in the room.
Price clears his throat, standing.
“I heard what you said,” you say quickly.
Shit. Shit shit shit.
“I—”
“Wait,” you say, holding up a hand.
Dumping the manila folder on the desk, you circle to his side. Price is perfectly still, watching you the whole time. What you’re about to do is bold.
Placing your hand on his chest, you lean in. His entire demeanor softens as he mimics your movement.
“You said you wanted to make an army of kids with me.”
“It’s one thing I want to do with you.”
Shifting, you inch toward the desk, propping yourself up to sit on top of it. It’s true, you do need to get laid, and why not with a man who is more than willing.
Price’s gaze lowers as you spread your legs.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
"She's fucking gorgeous, mate."
"Is that all?"
With back pressed against the wall, you listen in on the conversation.
Kyle and Johnny’s voices carry in the small apartment. You linger in the short hallway that leads to the kitchen and dining room. They have no idea that you are home, listening in just around the corner.
“No,” comes Kyle’s voice. It’s not sad but strained, like he’s trying to form the right words but keeps stumbling over what to say.
Anxiety grips your stomach, twisting tight.
"She's everything I want,” says Kyle, this time sounding confident.
"Everything?" Johnny whistles and you hear the creak of a chair. "You looking to marry her?"
The twisting sensation becomes a clamp. A vice grip that closes your throat.
"If she'll have me," answers Kyle immediately.
Johnny chuckles. "You'll marry her and then what? Pop out an army of wee bairns? Adopt a cat and two dogs?"
“All of the above,” answers Kyle. “Or nothing at all. It’s what she wants.”
“Oh, aye,” replies Johnny. “That's a good answer."
The sudden seizing of limb and lung relaxes, returning you to the moment. Your heartrate speeds up, becoming a thundering thing that threatens to burst from your chest. Kyle may be your boyfriend but you never suspected that this is what he wants.
"When do you plan on proposing?" asks Johnny.
"Haven't thought that far," murmurs Kyle.
"Too focused on how you're gonna have that army of barins?" laughs Johnny.
"You wanker,” mutters Kyle, but you hear the smile in it.
"Just remember—”
You cannot hide any longer. It’s unbearable.
Emerging suddenly—and almost tripping over your own foot in the process—the two men go quiet, their gazes widening as you appear like an apparition before them. Between then is an open bottle of scotch and various containers of Kyle’s favorite takeout spot.
Kyle is out of his seat in a second, heading for you. He whispers your name, a soft thing meant only for you, and all your love comes rushing up to warm your cheeks and soften your insides.
As he nears, the words tumble from you. "You want a small army with me?" you whisper.
"You heard that?" he asks.
The next words you form are dangerous yet you say them anyway. "Do you want to start trying?"
You put every ounce of lust you can muster into those few words. Kyle’s bodily response is immediate. His shoulders straighten, and a hungry need enters his eyes. This man is about to drag you to bed and fuck you raw for hours.
"Johnny," snaps Kyle, voice cracking slightly. He clears his throat. "Time for you to go."
John "Soap" MacTavish
A tornado rips through your senses.
Did you hear Johnny correctly? Surely not.
"You don't understand, Simon."
Johnny is in the bedroom pacing around while he talks to Simon on the phone. At your current distance from out in the hall, it’s difficult to hear Simon’s response.
"You're balls deep in a different lass every week. Don't hardly know their names. And you're going to give me shit about this?"
A snort almost escapes your nose, revealing your location. Johnny isn’t wrong. Simon is a notorious slut among Johnny’s group of friends. There is always a different woman on his arm whenever they go out.
Johnny pauses before continuing. "I love this woman. I want a bloody army of bairns with her. Fuck, I'll take an army of animals if that's what she bloody well wants."
He sounds irritated, but you know it’s just his passion. Johnny can be hotheaded, especially when it comes to the people he cares about. Either that or Simon is giving him shit on the other end.
"I need your support, Simon." All is quiet, and then you hear Johnny’s amused snort. "You're always giving me shit, Lt." He chuckles. “I’ll see you tomorrow at brief.”
You slip around the corner and enter the bedroom. Johnny glances up from his phone, his mouth a wide smile upon glimpsing you. “Come here,” he says with a sultry purr, reaching out.
You go to him without effort.
Wrapping you up in his arms, Johnny kisses the top of your head. You tilt your face upward, going in for something softer.
"I heard you talking on the phone,” you murmur, accepting another kiss from Johnny.
"Did you?"
"You want an army of kids?"
Johnny's neck flushes pink. "I may have said that."
Your hug becomes intimate, hands gently caressing until you find the front of his sweatpants. Johnny groans into your mouth as you find him, lightly rubbing him toward hardness. It’s a tease of a touch. The moment he’s throbbing under your hand, you pull away, fingers toying with the strings of his sweatpants.
"You don't mind if we start now?"
Johnny's gentle embarrassment becomes a sultry glare. "Oh, aye. We have the rest of the day and all night to try."
Simon "Ghost" Riley
"I want her, Johnny."
The pan of brownies you’re holding nearly go crashing to the floor. Simon’s words are a brick wall. You’ve been baking all day because it’s the only thing you can do to distract yourself. The plan is to drop them off with Simon and let the boys devour them. Instead, you’re dumbfounded, standing right outside the door to the meeting room Price’s secretary told you to drop the sweets at.
“Who?” asks Soap absently.
When Simon speaks again, it is your name that falls from his lips. Yes, you and Simon are together, but you’re not together. This is fuck buddies. This is friends with benefits. This is…not a relationship.
Or so you thought.
But you’re at his place of work dropping off fucking brownies. The rest of his team call you by your first name. They expect you at functions when they all bring their significant others along. Yet you and Simon are not a couple.
Not officially anyway.
"Oh, aye?” asks Soap, his tone amused. “And does she want you?"
Yes. More than you know.
You’re fully aware that Johnny and Kyle give Simon shit about you. Not because they don’t like you—they adore you—but because they think Simon needs to put a ring on it. They aren’t quiet about it either.
But Simon has never been so forward with his feelings for you. He might tell you sweet things when his dick is deep inside you, but you’ve never heard him be this blunt.
"Don't care. She's mine, Johnny. I'll make sure of that." The mine is almost a growl, a possessive bite that sends a bolt of need to your core.
Johnny chuckles but there’s nothing condescending in it. He sounds…happy.
“Finally, Lt. Fucking finally!”
You hear Johnny enthusiastically smack Simon’s back—or shoulder—and then the man growls like he’s aggressively shaking Simon.
“You’re going to fucking crack my ribs, Johnny.”
“I’m just happy for you, Lt.”
You step forward, pressing your shoulder against the doorframe. They are still out of view, but you don’t want to reveal yourself yet.
“Finally going to make an honest woman out of her?” jokes Soap.
Simon snorts. “I’ll even make you an uncle, Johnny.”
“Me? I expect an army, Lt. Five mini-Riley’s running around.
“Fucking hell, Soap.”
Your cheeks are hot, and you’re standing out in the hall like an idiot. The last thing you need is for one of them to open to door and find you here.
Knocking to announce yourself, you open the door of the meeting room. They turn in your direction, but it’s only Johnny’s face that’s clear to you. Simon is wearing a balaclava, and the only part of him you can see are his eyes.
Johnny’s grin is devilish. “What’s that, love?”
“Brownies?”
He perks up. “Gaz is gonna flip his mug.” You hand them over and Johnny removes the foil on top. “I’m eating this entire pan.”
“Fuck off, Sergeant,” says Simon.
Johnny gives him a half-hearted salute before disappearing out the door, a chunk of brownie already shoved in his mouth.
“You just get here?” asks Simon, sauntering forward.
The soft sway of his hips is a tantalizing thing. You’re hypnotized. Locked in.
“No,” you whisper.
“No?”
“I—I heard you and Soap talking.”
Simon is inches away, his broad chest and shoulders seeming impossibly wide, almost boxing you in.
“What do you think?”
“You want me all to yourself?”
Simon’s voice is a growl. “You’ve always been mine. That’s never changed.”
You place your hand on Simon’s chest. “You promised Soap you’d make him an uncle.”
“I did.”
“And if I want to start right now?”
Simon leans in a bit further, his gaze burning like warm whiskey. “Then you should bend yourself over the table and lift that dress.”
taglist:
@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath
@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus
@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41
@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat
@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim
@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307
@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic
@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld
@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff
@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen
2K notes · View notes
v6quewrlds · 3 months ago
Text
❝ pretty little thing, j. burrow. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: it is a rare quiet morning for you and joe. while you plan to sleep in and take it easy, your husband has other more active plans.
‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: my first joe fic, everybody cheer!! i did not plan for it to be this long but she's fresh, she's cute, i like her. i hope you all like it <333 requests are open for headcanons, texts, blurbs, fics, etc.
‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, sexual content, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, penetration, very slight praise kink, fingering, joe is pussy drunk fr fr.
‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: joe burrow x black!wife!reader.
‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 6.7k.
Tumblr media
You stirred in the bed, the morning light creeping through the blinds. The soft hum of the city outside barely registered in your sleep-laden ears. The bed shifted as Joe's arm snaked around your waist, gently pulling you closer. "Morning, beautiful," he murmured, his breath warm against your neck.
Your eyes fluttered open to meet his playful gaze. "Mornin'," you mumbled, still clinging to the last vestiges of sleep.
Joe leaned in, kissing you gently. "No meetings today?"
You yawned, stretching languidly. "Nope, not a single one."
Joe's grin grew wolfish. "Perfect," he said, his hand sliding down to your thigh. His voice was low, his eyes dark with desire.
You giggled, swatting at him playfully. "What are you doing, you hornball?"
Joe's grin only grew wider. "What does it look like I'm doing?" he replied, his hand continuing its journey under the covers.
You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide your smile. "It's barely seven in the morning, Joe."
"Exactly," Joe said, his hand reaching its destination and squeezing at your ass, causing you to gasp. "We've got all day to do whatever we want."
"And what is it that you want to do?" You asked, your voice teasing as you felt his fingers dance along your skin.
Joe's eyes lit up with mischief. "I want to fuck my gorgeous wife," he said bluntly, his voice thick with lust.
You rolled your eyes again, feigned annoyance lacing your tone. "Always so romantic," you teased, even as your body responded to his touch.
"Well, it's been a while since we had a morning like this," Joe said, his hand moving between your legs, stroking you lightly. "I want to make it count."
Your giggles turned into moans as Joe's fingers found their mark, his touch sending waves of pleasure through your body as they danced over your sensitive pearl. "You're insatiable," you murmured, your manicured hands gripping the strands of his blonde hair as your lips found each other again in a heated kiss.
Your foreplay grew more intense, Joe's hand working your body with the precision of a maestro, drawing out your pleasure with every stroke. Your breath hitched as his thumb circled your clit, your legs trembling against his muscular thigh. You could feel him growing hard against you, his arousal pressing into your side.
"Fuck me, Joe," you whispered, your voice needy as the ache between your legs grew.
With a low growl, Joe complied, rolling you onto your back and positioning himself above you. He kissed you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours, as he entered you in one smooth thrust. You arched your back, your nails digging into the bed sheets as Joe began to move. He was rough and unrelenting, your bodies slapping together in a rhythm that filled the room with the sound of passion.
Joe's eyes never left yours, the intensity of his gaze matching the force of his movements. "You're so fucking tight," he murmured, his voice strained with effort. "I can't get enough of you."
Your eyes rolled back in your head as Joe's words sent a jolt of pleasure through you. "You talk too much," you gasped, your own voice laced with desire.
Joe chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Oh, I'm just getting started," he said, leaning down to nip at your earlobe. He knew exactly how to push your buttons, how to make you crazy with want. His hips slammed into yours, the headboard knocking against the wall in a steady beat that echoed your passion.
You wrapped your legs around Joe's waist, pulling him deeper, urging him faster. You were wet and ready for him, your body responding to his every touch like a finely tuned instrument. He groaned, the sound vibrating through you as he picked up the pace, your bodies moving in a symphony of need.
Your lovemaking was raw and uninhibited, a dance you'd perfected over the years. You knew each other's bodies so well, every curve and dip, every sensitive spot that could send the other spiraling over the edge. As Joe thrust into you, your eyes locked, a silent communication passing between you that was as intimate as your joined bodies.
“Come on, baby, take this dick,” Joe urged, his voice gruff with desire as he pumped into you with a fervor that left you gasping for air. You could feel the tension building within you, your core tightening around him with every powerful stroke. The bed creaked in protest under your combined weight, the sound melding with your moans and gasps.
“You’re going to make me come, Joey,” you panted, your eyes glazed with passion.
“That’s the plan,” he replied with a wicked smile, increasing his pace. He watched your chest rise and fall rapidly, your breaths growing shallower with each thrust.
Your walls tightened around him, your moans turning into a high-pitched whine. Her nails dug into his back, leaving trails of fire on his skin. The sight of your pleasure, the feel of your body clamping down on his, was too much for Joe to resist. He bit his lip, fighting to hold back his own climax. But as your cries grew louder, he lost all control, driving into you with a fierce growl.
“Shit, baby.” Joe groaned as his climax neared, his hips moving erratically. He felt your body tense, your legs quivering around him. “You gonna come for me?” he asked, his voice thick with passion.
“Fuck yes, Joe, I’m coming!” Your moans only served to push Joe further into his trance. “Wanna come for you,” you whined into his ear.
“You’re gonna come on my cock, be a good girl for me, aren’t you baby?” Joe whispered, his eyes gleaming as he watched the ecstasy play out on your face. You nodded, your breaths coming in short pants, your eyes fluttering closed.
The tension between you grew palpable, until finally, your back arched off the bed with a scream of pleasure. Joe’s eyes rolled back in his head as he felt you tighten around him, your muscles pulsing in a delicious rhythm that sent him hurtling over the edge. He filled you with his seed, your bodies shuddering in unison as you reached your peak.
You lay there for a moment, panting and spent, your hearts racing in sync. Joe’s chest heaved with the exertion, his body slick with sweat, as he collapsed onto yours, his weight pressing you into the mattress. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, savoring the feeling of his warmth against your skin.
"I love you," Joe murmured, kissing your neck softly.
"I love you too," you whispered, your voice still trembling from your orgasm.
As you lay there, Joe’s mind drifted to his morning routine, his thoughts of a hard workout fighting against the post-coital bliss. He propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at you. "You coming to the gym with me?"
You groaned, playing coy. "After that performance, I might need a nap first."
Joe chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Come on," he said, kissing the tip of your nose. "It'll do you good."
You sighed dramatically, but the twinkle in your eye gave you away. "Fine, but you're carrying me there."
With a smirk, Joe didn't need further prompting. He hoisted you over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, your squeals of surprise turning into laughter. Her long coils cascaded down his back as he marched towards your closet, his bare feet cold against the hardwood floor. You playfully slapped at his backside, trying to wriggle free, but his grip was firm.
"You're not getting out of this," he said, his voice filled with good-natured determination.
"Put me down, Joe," you giggled, your cheek pressed against his shoulder as you attempted to squirm away.
"Nope, you said you'd come with me, so you're coming," Joe said with a smug grin, his muscles flexing as he set you down in the walk-in closet, turning to find your workout gear.
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't deny the thrill of excitement that shot through you. It had been too long since you'd had the energy to keep up with Joe's intense workout routines. You watched him rummage through your neatly organized space, his toned ass on full display in his boxer briefs. Despite your protests, you felt a familiar stirring of excitement.
He pulled out matching sets of black workout clothes, tossing yours onto the bed. "You can thank me later," he said, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.
With a mock pout, you slipped into your gear, your curves hugged tightly by the spandex. You had to admit, it felt good to be out of your business attire and into something that allowed you to move freely. Joe couldn't help but steal glances at you as you made your way to the home gym. You caught him looking and shot him a playful glare, which only made him grin wider.
Once in the gym, Joe turned on his workout playlist, the bass-heavy beats filling the space and setting the mood. You warmed up together, stretching your muscles in a tug of flexibility and strength. You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as you watched Joe move with such grace and power. He'd always been fit, but his dedication to his career had sculpted him into something truly awe-inspiring.
You began your workout, Joe lifting weights that seemed impossibly heavy while you hit the treadmill. Despite your initial hesitation, you found that your body was responding well to the exertion. You pushed yourself, the endorphins flooding your system as you picked up speed, feeling the burn in your legs. The scent of sweat and effort filled the air, a heady mix that was oddly intoxicating.
Joe caught your eye from across the room, his own workout taking on a more intense edge. You were both so focused on your routines, yet couldn't help but steal glances at each other. The way your breasts bounced with each step on the treadmill, the way Joe's biceps bulged with every curl. You were both aware of the effect you had on each other, the sexual tension building again as the minutes ticked by.
You stepped off the treadmill, your body glistening with sweat. You grabbed a towel from the rack and wiped your face, watching Joe from the corner of your eye. He was doing lunges now, his thighs flexing with each powerful movement. You couldn't help but lick your lips, remembering how those same muscles had felt under your fingertips earlier.
"You okay over there?" Joe called out, a smirk playing on his lips as he caught you ogling him.
You laughed, snapping out of your daze. "Fine, just admiring the view," you said with a wink, grabbing a set of dumbbells.
Joe's smirk grew into a full-blown grin. "Keep that up, and I might have to show you some more of the view," he teased, not missing a beat in his lunges.
You rolled your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks gave you away. You began your dumbbell routine, the clanking of the weights a metronome to the pounding bass of Joe's playlist. You worked out in tandem, your movements synchronized despite the different exercises. Joe couldn't help but admire your dedication, and the way you pushed yourself despite your initial protests. You'd always been strong, not just physically, but mentally as well. Her resilience was one of the things that had first drawn him to you all those years ago.
The air grew thick with your exertion, the scent of sweat and pheromones a potent cocktail that only added to the tension. As Joe moved to the bench press, he watched your ass dip as you did squats, your toned muscles flexing with each descent. His eyes traced the lines of your body, memorizing every curve, every inch. It was all he could do to focus on his own workout, his thoughts wandering to the delicious ways he'd like to explore your body again once you were done.
You felt his gaze on you, and you couldn't help but push yourself harder, a smirk playing on your lips as you caught his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors. You knew exactly what he was thinking, and it only served to stoke the fire within you. You'd always had a bit of an exhibitionist streak, and the idea of Joe watching you, wanting you, was incredibly arousing.
You pushed through your routines, the room echoing with the sound of your breaths and the clank of metal. Your muscles began to burn, but you didn't stop, your eyes never leaving Joe's reflection. You could see his own workout was taking its toll on him, his face a mask of concentration and effort. Yet, you knew he was just as aware of you as you were of him. It was a silent game of seduction played out amidst the grunts and groans of exertion.
As Joe finished his last set of bench presses, he looked over at you, who was now doing some ab work. Her stomach muscles rippled as you worked through the last of your crunches. With the final crunch, you sat up, catching Joe's eye and sticking your tongue out playfully. He chuckled, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks. You'd always had this playful, competitive streak in your relationship, and it was clear you was enjoying pushing his buttons as much as he enjoyed pushing yours.
You decided to take a quick break, chugging water and wiping the sweat from your faces. You couldn't help but lean into Joe's side, feeling the heat of his body against yours. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you in tightly. "Shower?” he suggested, his voice low and filled with promise.
Your eyes sparkled with mischief. "Race you," you said, taking off at a sprint towards the bathroom. Joe chuckled, following close behind. You stumbled into the shower, your laughter echoing off the tiles as you both struggled to get the temperature just right. The water cascaded down your bodies, washing away the grime of your workout and leaving you gleaming.
Under the spray, Joe's hands found your body, his touch gentle, cherishing the casual intimacy as the warm water hit your skin. You leaned into him, your head tilting back to allow the water to run down your neck and over your breasts. The shower was a cocoon of steam and sensuality as you took turns washing each other, your eyes locked, smiles playing on your lips.
“Alright, what’s going on up there?” You asked as you looked at Joe, your eyes twinkling with loving concern, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You’ve been avoiding having any real conversation all morning, Joe.” Her voice was soft, not accusatory, just curious.
Joe sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he leaned against the shower wall. The hot water beat down on his broad back, the steam obscuring the tension in his face. There was no point in hiding his thoughts from his wife. You knew him better than anyone else, and you’d be the first to call him out on his mood swings. You knew exactly what made him tick.
"It's the team," Joe began, his voice echoing off the tiles. "We're playing like shit." He paused, his eyes closing briefly as the warm spray washed over his face. "The defense is a joke, and the coaching...it's just not there."
Your eyes softened, and you reached out to gently rub his chest. You knew how much the game meant to him, how much he put into it. "You're doing everything you can, Joe," you reassured him, your voice soothing. "Everyone can see that you're playing out of your mind. best QB rating in the league, over 80% completion, anyone with a brain knows you’re not the problem Joe.”
Joe leaned into your touch, his eyes still closed. "It's just...frustrating," he admitted. "I feel like I'm carrying the whole team on my back."
Your hand stilled on his chest, your expression serious. "You know I'm here for you, right?" you said, your voice steady. "Through all of it."
Joe's eyes snapped open, meeting yours. "I do," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "And I'm sorry for taking it out on you. I know I’m a dickhead sometimes with my moods. It’s just hard not to let it get to me."
"You are a dickhead sometimes," You teased lightly, your fingers tracing the contours of Joe's abs, eliciting a chuckle from him. "But, unfortunately, I love you for it. I love seeing how passionate you are about your work.”
The warm water cascaded over you, mixing with your laughter as Joe leaned in to kiss you. It was a gentle kiss, one that spoke of your deep connection and understanding. It was moments like these that made you realize how much you'd missed in your usually hectic lives. You pulled away slightly, your gaze searching his.
"Thank you," Joe murmured, his eyes meeting yours with a rare vulnerability. "For everything."
You nodded, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "Always," you said softly. “I’d do anything just to see you at peace. You know that."
Joe's arms tightened around you, his eyes searching yours. "I know," he murmured. "You’ve stuck by me through everything, even when I didn’t deserve it." He leaned in to kiss you again, his hand sliding down to cup your waist, pulling you closer against him.
“From the minute I touched down at LSU, you were there, pushing me to be better, supporting me when I doubted myself,” Joe said, his eyes filled with gratitude. “You’ve been my rock through all the shit, babe.”
Her own eyes misted over, you leaned into him. “And you were there for me when I needed it most,” you whispered. “When my whole world was falling apart.”
Joe nodded, remembering your darkest days, post-surgery. The pain, the doubt, the fear that you’d never play your sport again. He’d held your hand through it all, encouraging you to keep pushing, to find a new passion. And you had, in him and in the success of his football career.
You stood there, bodies entwined, the water beating down on your skin, sharing a moment of quiet understanding. It was in these moments that you felt closest, stripped of your public personas and your individual ambitions, just two people in love.
"You know," you began, your voice still soft, "You could always talk to someone about it. Maybe it's time to have a sit-down with the coaches?"
Joe sighed, his eyes closing briefly. "It's complicated," he said. "I don't want to be the guy who throws the team under the bus."
You nodded, understanding his dilemma. "But Joe, you're not throwing anyone under the bus," you said, your voice firm. "You're expressing your frustration, and that's okay. It's not about blame, it's about finding a solution."
Joe looked at you, his gaze intense. "I just want to win," he admitted. "For the team, for the city, for us."
"I know," you said, your voice soothing. "But you can't carry the weight of everyone's expectations on your shoulders. It's not fair to you when you’re playing your ass off and they can’t give you some help."
Joe nodded, his grip on you tightening slightly. He knew you were right, but it was hard to let go of the pressure he felt. "I'll talk to them," he said, his voice a little defeated. "But I can't promise anything."
You leaned up to kiss his neck, your teeth grazing his skin. "That's all I'm asking, baby," you murmured. "Just talk to them. Maybe it'll help."
Joe nodded, his resolve strengthening as your lips moved down his body. He knew you were right. He couldn't keep carrying the weight of the team's failures on his own. He had to trust that his voice would be heard and that changes could be made.
You stepped out of the shower, the cool air a stark contrast to the steamy warmth you'd just shared. You reached for a towel, wrapping it around your body and releasing your hair from its confines underneath your shower cap. As Joe toweled off, he couldn't help but appreciate the artistry of your singular tattoo, the way it danced over your muscles as you moved. It was a constant reminder of the fierce strength that lay beneath your softness.
"Come on," he said, taking your hand. "Let's get dressed and order some breakfast. I'm starving."
You couldn't help but laugh. "Fine, but no more distractions," you warned, swatting him playfully on the ass.
"Scout's honor," Joe said with a grin, his eyes lighting up mischievously.
In the bedroom, you quickly dried off and threw on your clothes, your bodies still humming with energy from your workout and the passionate kiss you'd shared in the shower. Your mind wandered to the kitchen, picturing the ingredients you had in mind for a hearty breakfast to fuel Joe for the day ahead. Heading downstairs, you felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect of cooking for him. It was a small gesture, but one that you knew meant a lot to Joe, especially when his days were packed with practice and meetings.
Joe followed you, his eyes tracing the way your hips swayed in the oversized LSU Football shirt. Despite his earlier promise to behave, he couldn't resist slipping his hand under the fabric to squeeze your ass as you walked in front of him. You shot him a glare over your shoulder, but your smile gave away your amusement. You knew he was just teasing you, trying to get a rise out of you. It was a dance you'd been doing for years, and you found it both infuriating and endearing.
“Instead of ordering, let me cook for you today," you offered as you descended the stairs, the plush carpet cushioning your bare feet. "It's been too long since I've had the chance to take care of you."
Joe's eyes lit up. "You don't have to, babe," he protested weakly, knowing full well that he'd lost that battle the moment you'd suggested it.
"I know," you said with a smirk. "But I want to make sure my man eats good. You give it to me so good, I wanna reward you. Now sit down, I'll handle it," you instructed as you pushed him onto one of the high-backed chairs at the kitchen island.
Joe obeyed, watching as you tied your hair back in a messy bun, revealing the nape of your neck. He found himself craving another taste of you, but he knew he had to be good for now. He leaned back, his eyes tracing the curves of your body as you moved around the kitchen, pulling out pans and ingredients with the ease of a seasoned chef. The sound of sizzling bacon filled the air, and his stomach growled in anticipation.
You began to prep a feast fit for a king. You whipped up eggs, topped with cheese and chives, crispy bacon, and a side of avocado toast. You knew Joe's diet was strict, but today was a day for indulgence. Plus, you knew he had earned it.
“Ja’Marr’s been complaining about that dinner we had to reschedule last week, says you owe him a home-cooked meal next home game,” Joe said, scrolling through his phone. He watched your expression as you cracked eggs into the sizzling pan, your brows furrowing slightly in concentration.
You chuckled. “Tell him to wait his turn. I’ve got my hands full cooking for one hornball Bengal today. I don’t need another one begging me for food,” you teased, flipping the eggs with a practiced flick of your wrist. “Matter of fact, tell him to bring his child next time he wants to eat my food. Maybe he’ll learn some manners from his son.”
Joe’s laugh echoed through the kitchen, his eyes never leaving his wife as you worked your magic. You had always been so fiery, so full of passion and sass. It was one of the things he loved most about you. “You’re gonna have to text him that yourself, babe,” Joe said, holding up his phone. “But maybe save the hornball comment for when we’re alone. I don’t need to hear it from him all week at practice.”
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that played on your lips. You grabbed your phone from the counter and shot a quick text to your friend. “Consider it done,” you said, setting the phone aside to focus on the meal. The kitchen was alive with the sounds of sizzling bacon and the occasional clang of a pan. The smell of breakfast filled the room, a comforting aroma that seemed to melt away the last of Joe’s tension.
As you moved around the kitchen, Joe’s eyes followed you, taking in every movement, every curve. Her body was a testament to your dedication to maintaining your health, your strength and grace evident even in the simple act of cooking. He felt himself growing hard again, his body eager to claim you once more.
"I swear, if you don't stop looking at me like that, this breakfast is going to be ruined," you warned, tossing a piece of bacon at him. He caught it with a grin, popping it into his mouth and chewing slowly, his eyes still glued to you.
Joe couldn’t resist. He slid off the chair and approached you, his bare feet silent on the cool kitchen tiles. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you back against him. You giggled, trying to shoo him away with the spatula, but your protests were weak.
"Joseph," you scolded, but your voice was playful, not stern. You could feel his arousal pressing into your backside, and you had to admit, it was tempting.
"Come on, honey," Joe murmured, his breath hot against your neck. "Just a little taste," he begged, nibbling at your ear.
Your resolve wavered. You could feel his hands roaming over your hips, his fingers inching closer to the apex of your thighs. "Joe," you warned, your voice laced with amusement. "I'm trying to do something for you."
"And I'm trying to do something for you," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. He pressed closer, his erection nudging against your backside. "Let me just return the favor."
You felt the heat pool in your belly, the flames of desire flickering back to life. "Baby," you warned again, this time with a hint of a whine.
Joe chuckled, his grip tightening as he kissed your neck. "Please," he whispered, his breath tickling your skin.
You tried to resist, but Joe's hands were already working your magic. He reached around and cupped your breasts, his thumbs circling your hardened nipples. You gasped, dropping the spatula as you leaned back into him. He took that as the invitation it was meant to be and ground his hips against yours, his length pressing into you. "See?" he murmured, his teeth grazing your ear. "I know exactly what you need."
Your body betrayed you, arching into his touch. "You're so annoying," you managed to say, but your voice was thick with need.
Joe chuckled, his hands sliding down your body until they found the hem of your, or rather his, t-shirt. He began to lift it, his knuckles brushing against your bare skin as he revealed your stomach. You squirmed, trying to focus on cooking, but it was a futile effort. His touch was intoxicating, his presence overwhelming.
"Joe," you said, your voice a breathy whisper. "The food."
"Fuck the food," he growled, his hands continuing to lift the shirt from your body. He tossed it aside, revealing your bare breasts and a black g-string he didn’t recognize. His cock twitched with approval. "What’s this? New lingerie for me?"
You turned in his arms, your own desire flaring up at his words. You pushed him back playfully, your eyes dark with passion. "If you want to eat, you'll let me cook," you said, your voice a seductive purr.
Joe's smile didn’t reach his full expression. His blue eyes darkened as he took in the sight of his darling wife, half-dressed and flushed with arousal. He stepped back into his position behind you, giving your ass a firm spank before squeezing a toned cheek in his large hand. Your head fell forward with a gasp as you tried to compose yourself, a moan slipping past your lips involuntarily at the sudden roughness.
If he heard your challenge, he paid it no mind. Hand coming up once more to deliver another smack to your ass, he watched the flesh jiggle before bending down to kiss the tender spot he’d just abused. His tongue darted out to taste your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Your breath hitched, the heat between you palpable as Joe’s hands wandered further down, his fingertips tracing the damp fabric that barely covered your sex.
“We can multitask,” Joe murmured against your skin, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot where his hand last made contact with your ass. His fingertips danced over the fabric of your underwear, teasing the entrance to your warmth.
Your hands tightened around the handle of the spatula as you bit back a moan. "Joe," you protested again, though your voice was less steady this time. You knew he could feel you tremble against him, could see the way your pussy was already growing wet. You tried to push him away, but your legs felt like jelly, your resolve dissolving with every touch.
"Cut the stove off," Joe said, his voice a low growl. "I'm gonna have to eat something else." His hand slipped the g-string to the side, his fingers finding your slick folds. Your knees nearly buckled as he began to circle your entrance, your eyes fluttering shut. You knew you had lost.
Your hands scrambled to turn the stove off, the sizzle of the bacon fading into the background as Joe’s touch grew more insistent. He didn’t wait for permission, sliding the panties down with a groan of appreciation that echoed through the kitchen. Your slick heat was all he could think about, all he wanted to taste. He dropped to his knees behind you, his eyes feasting on your bare ass and the smell of the glistening pussy he could already see fluttering with desire.
“Put your knee on the counter,” Joe whispered, his breath hot against your skin. You looked over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his intense gaze before you complied, your heart racing. You knew where this was heading and you couldn’t wait.
Joe swore to himself as he watched your pussy spread for him. Your hands grasped at the counter for balance as your pussy continued to flutter with anticipation. He hummed in appreciation as his strong hands gripped your ass, pulling you even further apart. His tongue flicked out, tasting the sweetness of your arousal as you gasped, your body taut with need. He took his time, savoring the moment, exploring every inch of you with his mouth.
You couldn’t help but lean further over the counter. Her pretty little pussy was on full display to him, almost begging for his mouth. Joe took full advantage, burying his face in your wetness. He sucked eagerly at your clit while one of his thumbs circled your entrance, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your moans grew louder, echoing through the kitchen as you lost yourself in the sensation. Her hand reached back to grip his hair, pulling him closer, silently demanding more.
Joe was more than happy to oblige. His tongue delved into you, tasting you deep, feeling your muscles tighten around his thumb. Your hips began to rock back into him, your moans turning into cries of pleasure. You were so close, so beautifully close to the edge, and Joe could feel his dick throb with the anticipation of watching you fall over the edge. He picked up the pace, his tongue flicking faster against your clit, his thumb pressing deeper into you.
Your legs began to wobble as the intensity grew, your knuckles turning white as you clutched the counter. "Baby," you gasped, your voice strained. "You’re so good."
Joe groaned in response, his mouth never leaving you as he felt your orgasm building. He knew your body like the back of his hand, knew exactly how to push your buttons, how to make you scream his name. And scream you did, your body convulsing as you came, your juices flooding his mouth. He drank you in, loving the taste of you, loving the way you felt as you lost control.
When you finally went still, panting and trembling, Joe stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Fuck, you taste good," he murmured, his voice gruff with desire.
You turned to face him, your eyes glazed over with satisfaction. "Are you going to let me cook now?" you asked, though the playfulness in your tone suggested you didn't really mind the interruption.
“Nope. I need you to squirt that goodness all over me again, baby,” Joe said, his eyes glinting with mischief as he stepped closer to you, his own length straining against his sweatpants.
You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his audacity. But as he stepped closer, you felt your resolve melt away like butter in the pan. You leaned back against the counter, your body still humming from your orgasm. Joe stepped between your legs, his erection pressing against your stomach as he kissed you deeply. He gently lifted you up onto the counter, laying you back as his hands drew your long legs to rest on his broad shoulders.
He slid your thighs apart, revealing your glistening pussy to his hungry gaze. His cock throbbed in anticipation as he leaned in to kiss you again, his tongue delving into your mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your hips raising to meet his as he rubbed his clothes cock against your wet folds.
With a groan, Joe reached into his sweatpants and freed his erection, the tip already slick with pre-cum. He positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes glued to your pussy. You nodded, your breath coming in ragged pants as you gave him the unspoken permission he needed. With one swift movement, he slid into you, filling you completely. You both gasped as your bodies connected, the heat and friction setting off sparks that seemed to light up the kitchen.
“Fuck, baby, you’re so wet for me,” Joe growled, his voice thick with need as he began to move, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease. Your eyes rolled back in your head, your hands reaching for your breasts to pinch and squeeze your nipples as Joe’s rhythm grew more intense. You could feel your orgasm building again, the sensation coiling in your belly like a tight spring.
Joe’s grip on your thighs tightened, his hips moving faster, the slap of your bodies filling the kitchen. He leaned down to whisper dirty words in your ear, his breath hot and ragged, his eyes never leaving yours. "You like that, don’t you? Being fucked like this?"
“Yes, baby, yes,” you moaned, your eyes fluttering closed as Joe’s cock filled you completely, his strokes hitting all the right spots. You felt your climax approaching, your body tightening around him like a vice. “Fuck me.”
Joe’s eyes darkened at your words, his pace quickening as he pounded into you. He could feel your pussy grip him, your walls pulsing with each thrust. The sight of you spread out before him, your legs trembling with pleasure, was almost too much to handle. He leaned in to kiss your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin as he whispered more dirty words into your ear.
“Come for me, baby,” Joe urged, his voice strained with his own need. His strokes grew faster, more erratic, as he felt himself approaching the brink. “I wanna feel you come around me again."
Your eyes snapped open, your gaze locking onto Joe’s. You could feel the tension in his arms, the way his muscles flexed with each thrust. You knew he was close, and that knowledge only served to push you closer to the edge. With a cry, you shattered, your pussy clamping down on Joe’s cock as waves of pleasure crashed through you.
Joe groaned, his eyes squeezed shut as he felt your orgasm wash over him. He didn’t hold back, giving in to his own need as he thrust into you one final time, his cock pulsing with his release. You held onto each other for a moment, your breathing ragged, your bodies slick with sweat and desire.
Finally, Joe pulled out, his cock glistening with your combined juices. He stepped back, his eyes raking over your flushed body, still sprawled out on the kitchen counter. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride at the sight of you, so beautifully wrecked by his touch. "Fuck," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. “You’re so sexy when you come like that, babe."
You couldn’t help the smug smile that curved your lips as you watched Joe try to compose himself. You knew you looked a mess, your hair sticking to your face, your body flushed and trembling, but you felt alive, more alive than you had in a long time.
"You think so?" you asked, your voice teasing. "Maybe I should just stay like this all day."
Joe chuckled, shaking his head as he stepped closer to you. "As tempting as that is, we both know we’d never get anything done if you stayed naked all day," he said, his eyes traveling over your body with a mix of admiration and desire. He reached for your hand, helping you hop off the counter. "But I'm not saying we can't revisit the idea another day.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at that, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your orgasm. "Maybe next time, you can actually let me cook breakfast," you said, though the smile on your face suggested you didn’t mind the detour.
Joe leaned in for a kiss, his lips capturing yours in a passionate embrace. "Deal," he murmured against your mouth. "But only if you promise to let me eat you out again."
Your cheeks flushed, a giggle escaping you as you swatted his shoulder. "You're so horny all the time," you accused, though the spark in your eyes suggested you liked it.
"Can you blame me?" Joe retorted, his gaze roving over your naked body with a hunger that hadn’t been sated. "Look at you”
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t keep the smile from your lips as you bent down to pick up your discarded underwear. "You're so annoying," you teased, tossing the garment at him.
Joe caught it in midair, holding it up with a grin. "But you love it," he said, stepping closer to you. He stepped into your space, his own body still flushed from your recent activity. "And I'll never get enough of you."
You couldn't argue with that. You stepped into him, your body fitting against his perfectly as your mouths met in a kiss that was as sweet as it was passionate. You felt the heat of his body, the steady thump of his heart beneath your palm as you wrapped your arms around his neck. For a moment, the kitchen and the world outside it faded away, and all that mattered was the two of you, your love and your desire.
When you broke apart, your smile was soft, your eyes warm with affection. "Let's get cleaned up and then eat," you said, your voice still breathless. "I didn’t make this food for nothing."
Joe nodded, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned to help you plate the food. He placed a delicate kiss on your shoulder, the warmth of his breath making you shiver. You ate at the island, leaning into Joe’s muscular body as you stood naked together.
The scent of the crispy bacon and the eggs filled the kitchen, making your stomachs growl. You took your first bites, savoring the flavors that melded together perfectly. Despite your earlier distraction, the breakfast was heavenly, a testament to your culinary skills.
1K notes · View notes
harrysfolklore · 4 months ago
Note
can we have a little honorary wag blurb where she’s freaking out about meeting charles’s entire friend group but when she does , she gets along with them really well and baby chiara ADORES her 🥹
thank you for sending this request, i really missed writing about these babiesss 🥺🥺 i hope you like thisss
READ THE HONORARY WAG HERE
A few weeks had passed since Kika and Pierre’s wedding, and life had settled into a pleasant routine for you and Charles. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and you were sprawled on the couch in Charles’ living room, a cozy blanket wrapped around you as you watched TV.
Charles was in the kitchen, making coffee. You could hear him humming to himself, a soft, contented sound that made you smile. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind, but you were finally finding your rhythm together, and it felt perfect.
Being his girlfriend felt perfect.
“Do you want anything with your coffee, mon coeur?” Charles called out, his voice carrying into the living room.
“Just some cookies, if we have any,” you replied, stretching out and snuggling deeper into the blanket.
Charles appeared a few minutes later, balancing two mugs of coffee and a plate of cookies. He handed you your mug and placed the plate on the coffee table before sitting down beside you.
“Thanks,” you said, taking a sip of the coffee. It was perfect, just the way you liked it.
Charles smiled and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “I could get used to this,” he said, his voice soft and full of warmth.
You leaned into him, feeling a sense of contentment. “Me too. It’s nice to have some time to just relax and be together.”
He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering for a moment. “So, I've bee thinking."
You turned to look at him, curiosity piqued by his tone. "Oh? About what?"
Charles took a sip of his coffee before continuing, "Well, we've been together for almost a month now, and things have been going really well…"
"They have," you agreed, smiling up at him.
"And I was thinking," he continued, his fingers absently playing with a strand of your hair, "maybe it's time for you to meet my friends. My whole friend group, I mean."
You felt a small flutter of nervousness in your stomach. You'd met some of Charles' friends in passing, of course, but the idea of meeting his entire friend group felt significant.
"Your whole friend group?" you repeated, trying to keep your voice casual.
Charles nodded, his eyes searching your face. "Yeah. Joris, who you've already met a few times, Riccardo and Marta, and a few others. They're really important to me, and… well, you're really important to me too. I'd love for you all to get to know each other better."
You almost melted at his words, his green eyes looking at you with a tenderness that made you regret not looking at them for so long.
It wasn’t just the idea of meeting his friends—it was the way he phrased it, making you feel special, like you were becoming an integral part of his life. But at the same time, your nerves fluttered in your stomach.
“Charles, that sounds… great,” you said, trying to sound confident, but the slight edge in your voice gave you away.
He narrowed his eyes at you, gently setting his coffee cup down on the table. “But?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m just a little nervous," you sighed, shifting so you could look at him fully, "They’ve known you for so long, and I don’t want to feel like the odd one out, you know? What if I don’t fit in?”
“Mon amour, you’re not an outsider," Charles’ expression softened even more as he reached for your hand, interlocking your fingers with his, "You’re my girlfriend, and that means you’re already part of my world.”
You bit your lip, still feeling a little unsure. It was a lot of pressure—meeting the people who had been with Charles through thick and thin, who knew sides of him that you were still discovering.
“I’m sure they’re great,” you said, leaning into him a little, “but it’s still kind of intimidating. I mean, Riccardo and Marta have a baby. What if I’m awkward around Chiara?”
Charles let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Chiara’s a baby. All she cares about is who makes her laugh and who gives her food. And knowing you, you’ll have her wrapped around your finger in no time.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle at that, imagining a tiny baby giggling in your arms. “You think so?”
“I know so,” Charles replied, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Look, I get it. Meeting new people, especially people who are important to me, can be overwhelming. But I promise, they’re going to love you. And more importantly, I’ll be there with you the whole time.”
His words calmed the nervous buzzing in your mind, and you found yourself nodding slowly. “Okay. Let’s do it. I’ll meet them.”
Charles’ face lit up with that boyish grin you adored, and he kissed you softly on the lips. “That’s my girl. I’ll talk to them, and we’ll make a plan for next weekend.”
You smiled against his lips before pulling back. “Next weekend, huh? No pressure, right?”
He winked, squeezing your hand, “None at all. Just you, me, and my crazy friends.”
Tumblr media Tumblr media
The following weekend came quicker than you expected, and before you knew it, you and Charles were standing outside Riccardo and Marta’s house, your heart beating a little faster than usual. The sounds of laughter and conversation drifted out from the backyard, and you could already hear Chiara’s high-pitched giggles.
“You okay?” Charles squeezed your hand as you stood at the front door.
“Yeah, just…" you took a deep breath, nodding, "You know, trying to remember how to be a functioning human.”
"Mon coeur, it's fine!" Charles gave you a huge grin, "Just think bout the first time you came to a race with Kika and met everyone. You were a natural."
You chuckled at the memory. "Yeah, and from that moment, I thought you disliked me for the longest time."
"Baby, we've talked about this," Charles raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "I was just... reserved," he said, his tone teasing but with a hint of sincerity.
You nudged him playfully. "You were cold! Barely even smiled at me. I thought, 'Great, Pierre’s friend is grumpy and doesn’t like me at all.’"
"And now, look at me," Charles laughed, pulling you closer, "Head over heels for you. Who would've thought?"
You felt a warmth bloom in your chest at his words. His eyes softened, and before you could respond, he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a gentle kiss.
When you finally pulled away, Charles rested his forehead against yours. "I promise, they’ll love you. Just be yourself, like you always are."
You nodded, a small smile on your lips. "Okay, I’m ready."
With that, Charles opened the door, and the two of you stepped inside, the lively sounds of his friends filling the space around you. The air was warm, the atmosphere welcoming, and as soon as you stepped through, Joris waved at you from across the room, and Marta smiled brightly, holding little Chiara.
"Well, well, if it isn't the girl who used to roll her eyes every time Charles spoke," Joris teased, approaching you and pulling you into a friendly hug.
You laugh, feeling some of your nervousness dissipate. "What can I say? He grew on me."
"Like a fungus, I'm sure," Joris winked, earning a playful shove from Charles.
Marta spotted you both and beamed, making her way over with Chiara balanced on her hip. Riccardo followed closely behind her, grinning widely.
"Ah, there he is," Riccardo greeted, pulling Charles into a hug before turning to you with a bright smile. "And this must be YN. It’s so great to finally meet you."
Charles stepped to the side, his hand still holding yours as he made the introductions. "Riccardo, Marta, this is YN, my girlfriend. YN, these are two of my closest friends in the world."
You smiled nervously but warmly, offering your hand to Riccardo, who brushed it aside to pull you into a friendly hug. "We do hugs around here," he said with a wink.
Marta followed suit, hugging you carefully while balancing Chiara in her arms. "It’s so nice to meet you, YN," she said, her smile warm and welcoming. "Charles has told us all about you. It’s about time we finally get to meet the girl who’s got him smiling all the time."
You chuckled nervously, your cheeks flushing a little. "He exaggerates."
"I don’t think so," Charles teased, his arm slipping around your waist again as he beamed at you.
Another one of Charles' friends raised his glass from where he was standing. "And here she is—the woman who tolerates Charles better than any of us."
You laughed at that, feeling some of the tension slip away as everyone welcomed you with open arms. The introductions continued as more of Charles’ friends trickled into the conversation, each one greeting you warmly, making you feel like part of the group in no time. It was clear that Charles’ friends were just as kind and friendly as he had promised.
“I’m so glad you could come," Marta said as she sat down next to you, little Chiara still in her arms.
“Thank you for having me,” you replied warmly, already feeling more at ease with her friendly demeanor.
Baby Chiara’s curious eyes darted toward you. You waved at her with a soft smile, and to your surprise, Chiara giggled, her little hands reaching out toward you.
“She’s been so excited all day,” Marta said with a chuckle, adjusting Chiara on her lap. “I think she knew we were having company. You want to hold her?”
You hesitated for a moment, but before you could even reply, Chiara was practically leaning over to get closer to you. You couldn't help but laugh, your heart melting at the sight of her small, chubby hands reaching out.
“I think she’s made up her mind,” you said, taking Chiara from Marta. The little girl settled in your lap immediately, looking up at you with wide, innocent eyes before giving you a sweet, toothy grin.
Charles, who had been chatting with Riccardo and Joris nearby, turned around just in time to catch the scene. His expression softened as he watched you interact with Chiara, his heart clearly in his eyes as he leaned against the counter, completely mesmerized.
“She loves you already,” Marta said softly, watching the way Chiara kept reaching for your face, fascinated by your hair and earrings.
“She’s adorable,” you said, your voice equally soft as you gently played with the little girl’s hands. Chiara giggled again, her laughter filling the room, and you couldn’t help but beam at her.
Charles crossed the room, his eyes still glued to the two of you. "She’s not the only one," he teased, placing a hand on your shoulder as he bent down to kiss your temple. "She’s got good taste."
"You're such a sap," Joris called out from where he sat, grinning as he popped another cookie into his mouth. "Look at you, all gooey and soft."
“Careful, Joris,” Charles replied, smirking at him. “Don’t make me start telling embarrassing stories about you."
“Oh, I’d love to hear those,” Marta chimed in, clearly enjoying the playful banter.
“Hey, I’m not the one who once locked himself out of the house without pants,” Joris shot back, earning a chorus of laughter from everyone around the room.
Amidst the laughter, Marta leaned closer to you, her voice just above a whisper. “You know,” she said, glancing at Charles, who was still gazing at you and Chiara with that adoring smile, “I’ve never seen him like this. I can tell he’s really happy with you.”
Her words made your heart skip a beat. You glanced up at Charles, feeling a warmth spread through you as you caught his eye. He winked at you, completely oblivious to Marta’s words, but it only made the moment more special.
"Thank you," you replied quietly, feeling a bit shy under her knowing gaze. "That means a lot coming from you."
Marta smiled, patting your hand. "I'm really glad he found someone special. You fit right in."
Before you could respond, Chiara began fussing slightly in your lap, clearly looking for something. Charles noticed immediately and knelt down beside you, offering the small toy she had dropped earlier. As soon as you handed it to her, Chiara calmed down, grabbing the toy and happily gnawing on it.
"I told you she'd love you," Charles grinned as he watched the two of you.
"You're right," you replied with a smile, gently bouncing Chiara in your lap. "She's perfect."
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and easy conversation. You found yourself quickly settling into the group, enjoying the way everyone seemed so at ease with one another. Joris and Riccardo were relentless in teasing Charles, often making jokes about how smitten he was, while Marta continued to shoot you knowing glances, clearly pleased with how everything was going.
At one point, as the evening wound down, Chiara started to get sleepy. She nestled into your arms, her little fingers curling around your shirt as her eyes fluttered closed.
Charles, who had been watching the whole time, leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. "You’re amazing with her," he whispered, his voice filled with warmth.
"She’s the sweetest," you whispered back, glancing down at the tiny girl fast asleep in your arms.
Charles’ gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his heart completely full. He had never imagined that watching you with Chiara would have such an effect on him, but here he was, absolutely melting at the sight.
As the night drew to a close, Riccardo and Marta thanked you both for coming. “Next time, we’ll have to do it at your place, Charles,” Riccardo joked, clapping him on the back.
“Sure, as long as you bring Chiara,” Charles replied with a grin, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as you stood by his side.
Marta gave you a quick hug before you left. "Seriously," she whispered in your ear, "We're really glad you're in his life."
You smiled at her, feeling the warmth and sincerity behind her words. "Me too."
1K notes · View notes
nebulaafterdark · 6 months ago
Text
At The Pleasure Of The Crown
Aegon x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader
Aemond x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader
Summary: Aegon and his wife regularly visit the silk streets. One night they happen upon Aemond behind one of the curtains, the rest is history.
18+ ONLY MDNI Targcest, smut, infidelity, manipulation, etc.
Tumblr media
It begins in the pleasure house, when Aegon tears back one of the curtains to find his brother. Nude and curled around one of the women.
“Haha,” Aegon points, “Aemond the fierce.”
Even the guardsmen there on Aegon’s behalf, shift uncomfortably as he begins taunting his brother. Though none of them will say as much.
“Stop it, you awful man.” Y/N bats at her husband.
He catches her wrists, pinning them to her sides. “Awful man?” Aegon muses, “that’s not very nice, my only love.”
“You are mean.”
Aegon frowns, “not to you.”
“You should not be mean to your brother either.”
“Are you truly angry with me?” He asks, releasing her wrists to twirl a bit of dark hair around his finger.
“Yes,” Y/N pouts.
“Please, say it isn’t so, my darling girl.” Aegon wraps his arms tightly around her, peppering her face with kisses. “I adore you.”
She says nothing, sighing against him. Stroking the stubble on his chin.
He chases her finger with his lips, “forgive me.”
“Be kind.” Y/N insists.
“Of course,” he nods, “I will be on my best behavior. I swear it.”
Y/N kisses his lips once in parting, shooing him away.
“My wife,” Aegon says to the crowd of men, “she is better than I deserve.” He stands, holding the curtain back, “I will miss her dearly.” Aegon pulls himself away, “now, a round of drinks for all; at the pleasure of the crown!”
Y/N smiles, with a shake of her head. “Might you excuse us?” She asks of Aemond’s company.
“Of course, your grace.” The older woman nods, taking her leave.
“I apologize for Aegon. I do hope you were finished, at least.”
Aemond says nothing.
“I’ve given up the opportunity to bed a woman to be here with you.” Y/N tells him, “let no one say I do not treat you fairly.”
“You should go to her. My brother does so love when there are two of you.”
“At least I’m loved.”
“He loves you to the fullest extent he is capable.”Aemond understands well. “What suprises me most is that you allow these behaviors.”
“Aegon is who he is, we can choose to either love or loath him for it.” Some people are born with sadness sewn in.
“Why love him then, if it is your choice?”
“Why do you come back to this place for comfort?” Y/N purses her lips, “why does anyone?”
Aemond stares blankly, awaiting an answer.
“Because it’s what we know. My late grandsire, the king, insisted it was my duty to keep Aegon contented. I have performed my duty.”
“My father has been dead for years now, with your mother seated peacefully upon his throne.” He hums, “you don’t strike me as a woman content forever unchanging.”
Y/N makes herself comfortable on the silk sheets, lying fully clothed beside Aemond, in all his glory. “I am content.”
He continues staring, studying her, allowing gentle hands to brush hair away from his face.
“Do you like to be petted?”
“Do you enjoy drowning in cups? Or is that another of my brother’s interests being forced upon you?”
“Aegon’s never forced me to do a thing.” Y/N admits, “he lives only to please me.”
“I will say that must be true, considering he does not have a hoard of bastards in the fighting pit.”
“He is careful.” Y/N confirms, “he told me once that our children were kissed by the gods because our love created them. He is particularly rigid about moon tea, even with his favorite ladies.”
“For once, my brother and I see eye to eye.”
“And where, on this matter, do you differ?”
“If you were my wife, I would not allow you here. You would scarcely see the outside of our chambers.”
“You would lock me away?”
“I certainly would not leave you alone with him, in a room at the pleasure house.” Aemond drawls.
“Aegon believes our bodies are naught but vessels for pleasure and of course, producing heirs. He holds little interest in who warms my bed, so long as he is the only one to know my heart.” Y/N explains. “He is fiercely possessive over it.”
“That is what I would desire most from you.”
“We would never lie together?”
Aemond sighs, “we would. Every hour. Until you were molded in the shape of me.”
Y/N swallows, harshly.
“That is the way I would love you.”
————————————————————————
Y/N makes her way down to the library, on nights she cannot sleep. Happening across Prince Aemond, who she’s scarcely seen since that night in the pleasure house. He lazes about one of the chairs, with a large book in hand.
Y/N thinks at first, she best not disturb him, but as she passes, he stares up at her. “What are you reading?”
“The anthology of serpents.”
“Is it any good?”
“I am reading in the hopes of finding sleep. It works best if the subject doesn’t interest me.” Aemond drags a finger along the edge of the page, flipping to the next.
“Right.” Y/N sifts through titles on the shelves.
“Have you read Aegon’s journal entries?”
“My husband keeps a journal? This is news to me.” Aegon’s never had much fascination with literature.
“The Conqueror.” Aemond clarifies.
“Of course,” Y/N shakes her head, “Aegon the Conqueror.”
“It’s a good read, in-”
“Three parts,” Y/N nods, “I’ve read them all.”
“Do you come to this place often?”
“Nearly every night.” The princess confirms.
“Always alone? Or accompanied by your husband?”
“A-alone.” She stammers, “I am often alone.”
“That is unfortunate.” Aemond hums. “Mayhaps I might find you here again.”
He does, of course. The next night and the night after that.
“Is it more comfortable with the eye patch on, or off?” Y/N wonders, having spent a fair share of time staring at him both ways.
“It makes little difference. The covering is mostly for the comfort of others, namely my mother. She was always quite saddened by the sight of it.”
“The sapphire is beautiful.” Y/N clears her throat.
“I’m glad you approve of your brother’s work.”
Y/N taps a finger against her wedding band as she speaks, “Lucerys is a gentle soul. It is not in his nature to attack viciously. He must’ve been very frightened.”
Aemond stands abruptly, leaving without a word. What could she know of what transpired between them that night in Driftmark? She was off nursing Aegon as he drowned in his cups.
Y/N returns to her apartments, finding comfort beneath the covers, she is nearly asleep when the door opens.
“What are you doing in here?” Aegon squints at her.
“I went to your rooms first, my love.” She yawns, “you were not there.”
“I need you in my bed.” Aegon tells her, “I need you always.”
“And you shall have me always. Come lie with me.” Y/N pats the space beside her.
Aegon strips down to his small clothes and joins her beneath the covers. “I thought you’d left me.”
Y/N sighs, passing a hand through his hair as he rests his head against her chest. “Why would I leave you, Aegon?”
“Because I am not worth staying for.” The words are muffled in the fabric of her nightgown.
“I love you.” Y/N reminds him. “I will not leave.”
————————————————————————
Y/N and Aemond spend many a night reading, seated across from each other. Though he was not thrilled about their conversation concerning Lucerys, Aemond never misses an evening.
They discuss their findings, when there is anything of interest in the history pages.
“I happened across this passage here,” Y/N plops the book unceremoniously into Aemond’s lap.
“Mmm,” he groans, shifting uncomfortably, “there goes the family jewels.”
Y/N covers her mouth with a hand. “Forgive me.”
“Mayhaps we might try something different this night. If you’re up to it.”
Y/N takes his outstretched hand, allowing him to lead her out to the training ground. “I am not trained by the sword.”
“I could teach you.” Aemond makes for the wooden training blades. “They will not cut you, but it is not pleasant to be struck.” He warns.
Y/N reaches out, grabbing the hilt. Testing the weight of it in her hand.
“Widen your stance.” Aemond tells her.
Y/N shuffles her feet apart, “like this?”
“Close enough.”
Her dark brows furrow in concentration and when their swords meet, Aemond relishes in the little grunting noises she makes.
“Ao vīlībagon olvie sȳrī syt mēre qilōni knows daorun hen egros.” You fight quite well for one who knows nothing of the sword.
She smiles, “bodmagho nyke skorkydoso naejot tatagon ao hen.” Teach me how to finish you off.
Aemond chuckles, “do not tempt me, girl.”
Y/N lunges for him, an untrained hand against the master, leaving herself exposed to his attack.
He uses the tip of his sword to lift her chin, “I win.”
She swallows, batting it away. “I want to go again.”
And so they do, until she is spent. Collapsing on the ground, as though he’s truly run her through with the blade. Aemond finds this more amusing than he lets on.
“Up,” he demands, “you will make a mess of yourself, rolling around in the dirt.”
“I will surely bathe after our activities, you needn’t worry.”
“Do you need me to carry you back to your apartments then?”
“After a while.” Y/N grins, resting a hand beneath her head as a makeshift pillow to gaze up at the night sky.
“What are you doing?” Aemond hovers over her.
“See for yourself.” Y/N insists.
Aemond grumbles, taking a seat in the dirt before fully reclining. “The moon?”
“The stars,” Y/N tells him. “When I was a girl my mother would point to the stars and ask what we saw in them.”
“To what possible end?”
Y/N shrugs, “entertainment, I suppose. Or gods forbid, fun.”
“What do you see?” Aemond asks, turning his face toward her.
“Well, just there, I see a hound.” Y/N points to a cluster of lights.
“A hound?” Aemond cocks his head to the side, following the line of her finger.
“Can’t you see?”
“Not at all.” He smirks.
“What do you see then?”
“A crown.” Aemond tells her.
“Where?” Y/N shuffles closer to him, hoping to see.
“Beside the sword.”
“There is no sword.”
“And I say, there is no hound.”
Aegon stumbles out towards the pair, listening to them bicker. “What are you doing?”
“Looking upon the stars, my love. Come lie with us.” Y/N waves him over.
Aegon smiles, indulgently. “Alright.” He joins them on the ground, opposite his brother, Y/N in the middle. “Not very comfortable, is it?”
“The sky is beautiful, is it not?”
Aegon blinks at it once, before turning back to her. “You are my moon and stars.”
Y/N rolls atop of him, kissing the expanse of his face, ten times over.
Oh to be so loved.
Aemond withdraws, prepared to take his leave.
“Goodnight, Aemond.” Y/N calls after him.
With a shake of his head, he calls back, “goodnight.”
————————————————————————
Aemond will never admit the amount of times his brother’s wife dances cross his mind during the day. He does his best to distract himself.
The sound of laughter travels down the hall, from their children’s rooms. Aegon is not much, in his brother’s eye. But even Aemond cannot deny fatherhood suits him.
“And then, from the sky, a big scary dragon swoops down to claim its next victim!” Aegon flaps his arms, parading around like a fool, as his children scatter. Giggling and hollering all the while.
Their youngest son runs to Y/N for protection.
“Come, my dearest love. I will save you.” She smiles, taking the little boy into her lap.
Aemond stands in the crack of the door; watching the scene unfold.
Princess Y/N grins from ear to ear as her husband gallops over, enveloping her in his arms.
“Oh no, mother! You’ve been eaten by the dragon.” Her daughter laughs.
“And I am still hungry.” Aegon smiles, turning his attention back to the eldest children.
Aemond turns away, continuing down the hall. Mayhaps he does want children. Mayhaps he wants them with her, but such things are foolish to desire. So he refuses to.
————————————————————————
“How do you get your hair so straight?” Y/N wonders. “It used to have wave to it, like Aegon’s.”
“From the looks of Aegon’s hair he could do with better hygiene.”
“Be kind,” Y/N chides him. “He has beautiful hair.”
“If you want access to trade secrets, you must allow me to speak freely.” Aemond challenges.
“I love Aegon.”
Aemond nods. “Of course”
“And that is fine by you?”
He smirks, “you’ve only now thought to ask?”
“I had not thought so much of it before.” She admits, “but now it is all I can-”
“If it is my permission you seek to continue loving your husband, I have overstepped.”
Y/N bites her tongue.
“I doubt he is asking whores for their blessing to go on loving you.”
“I wish only to be fair to you.” Y/N searches his eye.
“From the moment you pulled back the curtain in the pleasure house, you have been unfair to me.” Aemond tells her, “made my heart ache for you, made me long for you, then left with my brother when you were through. It did not seem to bother you then.”
“I did not mean for this to happen.”
“I believe that is true. You are not wanton for the suffering of others, but sometimes these things happen.”
“I am finished, if you’re angry with me.”
“Has no one been angry at you before?”
“No.” She shakes her head.
“Then, I am honored to be the first.” He brushes a kiss to her cheek. “Before you go, I have something for you.”
Y/N swallows.
“Turn around.” Aemond murmurs, reaching into his breast pocket.
Y/N does as she’s told, catching only a glimpse of glimmering metal before it meets her skin. Clasping at the back of her neck.
Aemond walks her toward his mirror, brushing dark hair over her shoulders so she can see it properly.
“Why give this to me now, if you are angry?” Her brows furrow.
Aemond traces a finger along her collarbone. “You will find that people are multifaceted. We have imperfections and sharp edges, but we are a direct reflection of the light shone upon us.”
————————————————————————
The necklace is beautiful, enough that even Aegon takes notice. Raising the subject in their chambers unlacing the back of her dress. The material falls free, pooling at her feet. Leaving only her shift and small clothes, which soon meet the same end.
“That is a lovely necklace, darling girl.” He runs his finger along the glittering blue jewels, hanging above her breasts. It looks familiar to him, though he cannot say why. His wife is often dripping in jewels he’s gifted her. There is no way of remembering them all. “Was it buried at the back of your jewelry box?”
Y/N smiles, bringing his hand up to kiss his fingertips and then place them upon her breasts. “It was a gift.”
“From whom, my only love?” He forces a grin, kneading the fleshy mounds.
“Aemond.”
No. A blow directly to his gut. He nods, giving the peaks of her breasts a tug before letting them fall free, sensitive and aching. “Upon the bed, my heart.” He smiles.
Y/N returns the gesture, sitting at the edge of the mattress.
“Lie back for me.”
Y/N does as he asks, allowing her legs to fall open, out of habit.
“Good girl.” Aegon drops to his knees, pressing his face to the altar and begins to pray. Every cruel word spoken against him does not exist here. He is safe between her thighs, with gentle hands carding his hair.
He would spend hours there, if she let him. Ignoring the bite of overstimulation to soothe his need for her. His jaw aches, working her writhing body through one peak to the next.
“Fuck,” Y/N sobs. Fighting the urge to press against his head for reprieve.
Aegon takes her hands in his, knotting their fingers together. When he tires of all her squirming, he trails kisses up to her pretty face. Nuzzling her nose with his own as he thumbs away tears.
Y/N sighs, contently. Relaxing enough to calm her breathing.
Aegon lowers his face to her breasts then, rolling and plucking at her nipples until they stand at attention. Sucking them between his teeth, laving his tongue over them until they too are sensitive. He leans up, pecking one final kiss to her lips before heading back to her cunt.
He spreads her legs wide, until her outer thighs rest on the mattress and his hands grip the insides firmly. “I am not finished.” He whispers.
Y/N whines, covering her face with both hands.
“I will be gentle.” He hushes her. “So, so, gentle.”
She cries out at the feel of his tongue lapping her folds. Everything ablaze.
He draws one last peak from his dearest love before he is satisfied, leaving her a quivering mess. “I want another child.”
Y/N nods, willing to give him anything.
“Turn around for me, up on your knees.”
Y/N rolls onto her belly, pushing up on her elbows and knees.
“Poor, little thing, leaking all over.” Aegon croons. “Does my brother not satisfy you?”
“We do not lie together.” Y/N tells him.
“What is it you do together?” Aegon’s lips twitch.
“Talk.”
He huffs a laugh. “You could talk to anyone, dearest. Why him?”
Y/N lifts a shoulder, “he is quite fascinating.”
“Have you come to care for him?”
“In the way you care for your ladies, I would wager.”
Aegon blinks, slightly dazed, as though he’s never considered it. “I love nothing in this world the way I love you.”
“As I love you.” Y/N peeks over her shoulder at him.
Aegon lines up his aching cock, sliding into her warm, with ease.
Y/N sighs, relishing the feel of him.
Aegon’s thoughts are plagued by the stupid sapphire necklace, bouncing between her breasts. Glittering against the bedding in the soft candle light, laughing at him.
He’s caught off guard by the force which possesses him to move her hair aside and yank the chain until it snaps.
“Ah,” Y/N rears back, clutching the skin of her burning neck.
“I am so terribly sorry, my only love.” Aegon apologizes, gathering her up, with her back to his chest. “It caught on my ring.” He kisses what he can reach of her flesh. He shouldn’t have done it, he knows it was wrong and he hates that he’s hurt her. “I will buy you a new necklace.”
Y/N reaches a hand back to caress his hair, eyes brimming with tears. “It felt as though you tugged.”
Aegon nuzzles her shoulder, leaning into her touch. “I will never harm you on purpose. Forgive me.”
Y/N nods, “of course.”
He turns her face toward him, enough for their lips to meet.
————————————————————————
Aemond does not see Y/N again, not for two nights. Whatever hold the wench has over him will not allow him to surpass that.
He finds her pacing the corridor nearest the library, wringing her hands. “What troubles you, Princess?”
Y/N sucks in a breath, “Aemond.”
“You have not been to the library.”
“I thought it best,” she nods.
“Why?” He leans against the pillar beside her.
“I do not wish to hurt you. After we last spoke, I realized that…”
“You would rather pace in a corridor, inflicting your own suffering than harm me?”
“I suppose I would.”
“If I wish to speak with Aegon about us, would you be opposed?” Aemond asks.
“What would you say?” Her eyes widen.
He taps her chin, “that is none of your concern, sweetling.”
“I love him dearly.” Y/N says, grabbing for his hand.
“Our marriage would only further serve to strengthen your claim to the throne. With Aegon and I at your side, there would be no one to contest you. Your mother, the Queen would be elated to have your claim upheld so fiercely.”
“You raised this matter with my mother?” Y/N whispers.
“I had to be sure it was an option, as I know you will forever toil in servitude of the crown. An honorable venture, for which you will find yourself in need of a King Consort well versed in the histories and matters of the realm.” Aemond takes another step toward her.
“A generous offer,” Y/N nods. “Still I must discuss this with my husband before any decision can be made.”
“Of course,” Aemond smiles.
————————————————————————
Y/N does discuss it with Aegon that night and the mere suggestion lands him in his brother’s room, prepared to kill him.
“I offered you a kindness, to wean you off of that woman at the pleasure house and this is how you repay me? By spitting in my face?” Aegon screams, the veins of his neck pulsing and red with fury.
“While you are busy fucking whores, it is my company your wife seeks. It is her mind which needs stimulating, and however unfortunate, I do not believe you are suited for the task.” Aemond holds both arms behind his back, unfazed by Aegon’s outburst.
“Y/N is the most precious thing in this world to me. She is mine, she has always been mine, she is always going to be mine. Take her cunt, if you must, but nothing more.”
Aemond purses his lips, “we are at an impasse then. I am quite taken with the whole of her.“
“It was me she swore oaths to, my children that grew inside her, my hand she holds. What do you want of her?”
“Soon she will swear the same oaths to me.” Aemond muses, “when I lie with her, it will be my seed that takes.“ He lifts a shoulder, “if you are kind to me, I may allow you to hold her hand as I do it.”
Part 2
1K notes · View notes
multifandom-pleasures · 7 months ago
Note
Hii i absolutely love how you write all the characters! Could I request sonic, shadow, and knuckles, and how they would react to reader trying to hide a chao they brought home from them? 🩷
A/N: I loved this request so much!! I love the little chaos. I do apologize for how long it took!! 4 am shifts are not for the weak. but I hope this is good enough!!
sonic
you couldn’t help it. you couldn’t help that you brought the little thing home. you were simply enjoying a nice day out while sonic was doing his duty around town, helping people and defeating robotnik’s robots. sat out in the park, under the shade of a nice tree with a book in hand, listening to the sound of chattering and squealing children. and then a little chao wormed itself onto your lap, making itself comfortable.
you thought it was someone’s pet, but as you looked up and waited for a moment, you didn’t see any distressed owners scrambling to retrieve it. you didn’t remove it, you simply scratched it’s little head as you continued reading, enjoying the new company as you wasted a couple of hours there. but then it was time to go home, and when you slid the chao off your lap and moved to stand; it quickly clung onto your leg, it’s eyes dropped sadly and sad little sounds leaving its mouth.
and how could you leave it alone after that? you folded up your blanket and tucked it under your arm before scooping up the chao in your other arm. it quickly snuggled into your neck and let out contented little ‘chao’ sounds, and it only made you melt further. you booked it back home before your rational side could tell you otherwise to keeping it.
that is what has led you to now, with the chao curled in a nest of blankets you put underneath your desk to hide her; a her, you had determined after some time on the internet as you also searched for chao care. it seemed simple enough, and she already seemed to like you, so it would only make it easier on your end. she was very pliant when you had cleaned her and gave her something to nibble on. the only issue was now she was very clingy. which, fair.
but when you had tried to walk off to try and make yourself seem normal for when sonic came home, it let out little distressed noises and scrambled from its spot under your desk to cling to your leg. you tried once more to leave her and it only resulted in the same thing. you tried to soothe her, stroke her little head and it only seemed to make her more fussy.
“ I’ll be back soon, I promise. “ you spoke softly, wrapping your hands around her and lifting her to eye level, “ you’re just.. a sudden thing, that’s all - but I promise, you’re not staying in here forever. now be a good girl, and stay, okay? “ she listened intently, as if processing your words, and reluctantly she shuffled back to her little nest when you set her down. you let out a huff of relief before stepping out of the room.
sonic returned only moments after, where you had yourself seated on your couch. he greeted you with his usual bright grin and a kiss to your head, which you leaned into. you stood to trail after him into the kitchen, as he moved to grab himself a snack.
“ so - what’d you do today, babe? “ he asked as he pulled pulled out of the fridge with an apple in hand, biting into it. you have a small shrug.
“ nothing much.. just went to the park to read for a little while. “ you replied, sounding as nonchalant as you could muster, “ it was nice out and I didn’t want to waste it inside. I actually managed to get far in the book - “ he hummed as he nodded, listening intently. he knew most of the things you did weren’t as daring and exciting as his own; but he always listened.
you rambled away about the current events in your book. you were so focused on explaining the details to him, recounting what you had told him about it before along with the new unfolded events, you didn’t even notice his focus had trailed away from you and to a the little creature scurrying it’s way towards you. a smile tugged at his lips at the sight, his head craning in curiosity at the little chao. you were about to scold him for not paying attention when you felt a grasp at your leg.
“ brought a friend home? “ you jumped and looked down, the chao looking up at you with wide eyes and a pout. clearly, she was displeased for being left along for more than 5 minutes. you couldn’t bother to be upset with her. she had just found a home, of course you should have known she would be clingy!
“ yes. “ you sighed defeatedly, lifting her into your arms and cradling her to your chest, soft sounds coming from her as she made herself comfy, “ she kinda.. joined me while I was reading today. and I tried to leave, but she wouldn’t let me go, and you should’ve seen her face I couldn’t leave her! and she’s been so sweet and cuddly and - “ he cut you off with a laugh, making his way over.
“ hey, hey! calm down, (y/n) I was only teasing. “ he looked down at the chao, taking a closer look at her. with the hand not holding his snack, he gently brushed the backs of has fingers against her head, and she cooed as she leaned into it, “ she is a cutie, isn’t she? “
“ I know I should’ve asked first but I couldn’t leave her behind.. “ sonic gave a small shake of his head.
“ nah, I always expected this sorta thing from you. surprised it didn’t happen sooner! “ he snickered, kissing your cheek, “ I’m not gonna make you take her back or something. we’ll take good care of her. “ his arm snaked around you and tugged you into his side, and you let out a sigh as you leaned into him. you should’ve expected him to be understanding.
“ we’ll be like parents! “ he exclaimed suddenly in revelation, and you elbowed him with a snort, “ c’mon, isn’t that a fun thought? she’s our little baby! “
“ sonic, shut up. “
shadow
you were much too easily persuaded, and one day it would be the death of you. you were having a little shopping day out in town, enjoying the sunlight and a day off of work; drink in hand and sunglasses over your it eyes. and then a quaint little pet shop caught your eye. it stopped you in your tracks and you peered inside to see little domesticated chaos in little pens, walking about and playing with one another. you would have simply cooed and continued on had it not been for the fact one certain one had caught your eye.
a black and red chao, sat on its lonesome in a corner. it had its little arms crossed over it’s chest and a grumpy look on it’s face; and by chaos it reminded you of shadow. you were walking into the shop before you could think twice. you asked if you could carry the chao, and after warning you he wasn’t kind to many; you insisted. they relented.
they scooped up the chao, who immediately squirmed around in an attempt to be released before handing him towards you. you gently soothed him and stroked your hand over his head, and he continued to squirm before slowing down at your movements. he seemed to want to hate it, but was quickly melting before he could convince himself otherwise.
you stayed for a good hour with the little guy, holding him close and murmuring little compliments and praises on how cute he was and how sweet he was being. you were sure he had dozed off but you didn’t want to check. the employees began to convince you to take him home since he seemed to like you, and it was rare for him to ever come across someone he liked. you tried to object, you couldn’t! not so suddenly, and not without shadow knowing!
then you were walking out with your wallet emptier than when you came in and the chao in one arm and a bag of necessities in your other. even when he was sleeping he looked grumpy, and you could cry with how cute he was.
but now you were stuck on how to tell shadow. you hadn’t been living together for too long; and now suddenly you were springing up a pet for you to care for together. what if he made you return him? what if they didn’t get along? you couldn���t bear to part with the chao now that you bonded with him!
you set the bag down by the couch and sat yourself down, holding the chao in your lap. he glared up at you; now that you think about it, it might’ve just been his resting face; and you looked down at him. his little hands were grasping onto your thumbs and you had to bite your lip to keep the grin off your face. both your heads jerked to the door as you heard the doorknob jingling as the lock turned.
you quickly moved to set the chao down on the other side of the couch, hidden out of you. you pressed your finger to your lip in a ‘hush’ motion, whispering to him, “ stay here, okay? don’t move. “ and you attempted to appear nonchalant as you turned on the tv, pretending to be intrigued by whatever was playing. you had barely made it as shadow stepped inside.
he stared at you for a moment as he took in your appearance, and his eyes flitted to the tv. he rose a brow.
“ I thought you didn’t like this show. “ you cursed yourself mentally as it was indeed a show you could care less for. you just shrugged and replied.
“ I’m giving it one more shot. how was work? “ you twisted to look his way, focusing on him now.
“ same as usual. “ he replied as monotone as ever, eyes trailing slowly around the living room, “ how was your day? “
“ more or less the same. I went out window shopping, mostly; bought a drink and a sweet from some new shop. we should go together sometime, I think you’d like it. “ you hummed, distracted by your own recollection of today’s events.
“ and nothing else? “ he responded, his arms crossing over his chest. you blinked as you looked up at him.
“ what do you mean? “ shadow sighed and his eyes drifted to the bag you’d forgotten by the couch, and as you peered over you could see the ‘how to care for a chao’ pamphlet peeking out. you cursed and slumped over, “ listen - it was a sporadic thing. when you see him you’ll understand. “
you shifted to the end of the couch and peeked over, only to see he was gone. you jumped up and looked around. shadow watched as you frantically looked behind the couch and under the coffee table.
“ you’ve already lost him? “ he scoffed, but joined you in looking around the living room. no way he already disappeared like that! you groaned and stood, taking another look around before pausing as shadow had bent down to peek into the cabinets of the your tv stand. there was the little chao, grasping onto shadow’s quills and looking rather proud of himself. you snorted and covered your mouth, gaining your boyfriend’s attention.
“ what? “ he huffed, “ what are you laughing at. “
“ don’t move. “ you laughed as you made your way over, and carefully worked the chao’s hands from his quills in order to not pluck any out of his head. shadow looked over as you held the chao in your hands, an amused smile on your lips and a mischievous one on the chao’s, “ looks like someone snuck up on you! “
he stared down at the chao, and you couldn’t determine his expression; it was slowly making you worried. did the little stunt upset him? oh surely he’d make you send him back now. you instinctively held the chao closer as you waited for his reaction.
he then let out a huff through his nose, a small smirk twitching at the corner of his lips.
“ not bad. “ he nodded, and with a finger he gently scratched the head of the chao, who leaned into it with a little wiggle, “ don’t try and keep secrets from me next time, (y/n). we both know it’s futile. “ you huffed and smiled, shrugging.
“ I was gonna tell you eventually. “
“ sure. “ he hummed, turning away to make his way to your shared room.
“ but don’t let him do that again. if he manages to sneak up behind me around company, I’ll never hear the end of it. “
knuckles
it truly was an accident. for the past week, you had a chao in your basement. not in a neglectful way, of course! but more so in a ‘at first it was a wild chao who accidentally wormed its way through your basement window and when you gave it a snack to eat it refused to leave’ sort of way. and so now, it was your pet that wasn’t your pet. you went down now and then to feed it and give it water and it would even let you pet it.
it really was warming up to you more than when it first arrived! at first it refused to get near you, but as you continued to give it food and spoke to it from several feet away, it would nudge closer and closer, until it finally allowed you to stroke it’s head, and only for a few minutes. then it would scurry away again.
knuckles certainly didn’t know. he didn’t care much for the basement. the garage was his area, where he would work out and do whatever it is he entertained himself with, and he never questioned how often you would visit the basement. he always gave you your freedom and space in the things you did. sometimes too much.
you had spent the day out getting more things for the chao, having did research and getting an understanding of what they needed. you returned with multiple bags in hand, and after peeking around to see if knuckles was around to see - he wasn’t - you crept over to the basement door and pulled it open. you made your way down almost too excitedly as you called for the chao, cooing to it.
and it quickly stopped as you saw knuckles seated in the middle of the basement, the chao curled in it’s lap and snoozing away. you gaped at the sight and knuckles looked up at you with a grin, waving.
“ (y/n)! “ he cheered, “ you’ve arrived! did you see the little chao? I assumed he was wild, though he is very well fed. and he is very affectionate! “ you set the bags down, slowly making your way over. the chao was woken up by knuckles’ shout, and squirmed out of his lap to make his way to you.
“ oh - he seems to enjoy your presence as well! “ you sat down as you cradled the chao close, stroking his head, “ much more than mine. what do you plan to do with him? “
“ keep him. “ you responded, shifting slightly, “ I um.. already kinda knew he was down here. for a week already. “ you admitted as you averted your eyes.
“ you did not tell me? “
“ I was going to! I just didn’t know how, yknow? and you care a lot about the nature of things so, I didn’t think you would let me keep him - but I really wanted to keep him, and he wanted to stay.. “ you sighed, motioning to the bags you set down with your head, “ I was out buying things for him, to take care of him properly. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. “
knuckles shifted closer to you until he was at your side, and he set his hand on your shoulder.
“ you should not have feared telling me. in fact, I’m very proud of you. “ you looked up and tilted your head.
“ you are? “
“ yes! you are correct, i do care for the way that nature already is, but it seems this chao has chosen you. and you did the proper research to take care of him! you put thought and care into this idea, even if it was unintended in the beginning. I’m proud of you. “ you blushed lightly and smiled, looking down.
“ you’re too sweet, knucks.. “ you mumbled, and leaned into his side, “ thanks.. I don’t know what I’d do without your support. “
“ you are a very intelligent person, (y/n). I have faith in the decisions you make. you always figure it out in the end. “ knuckles rose to his feet to fetch the bags, and began to make his way upstairs.
“ where are you going? “ you called out to him, still holding the chao as you stood at the foot of the steps
“ well, we are not keeping the chao down there! he will be sharing the room with us! come on! “
1K notes · View notes
tthoroughfare · 20 days ago
Text
happiest season // ellie williams
Tumblr media Tumblr media
*・゜゚・* summary: the gang's all back together for christmas! no matter how hectic life gets, you always make time for your end of year outing.
*・゜゚・* pairing: modern!ellie x reader ft. jesse and dina
*・゜゚・* content: sfw. ellie fucking sucks at ice skating
*・゜゚・* length: 2.1k
this fic is a part two to this blurb! i loved writing the dynamic so much i had to continue it... there will be more coming trust. *dutch voice* i have a plan. also i don't even like xmas that much so i have no idea where this came from. just felt right. i hope you all enjoy, and have an amazing festive period with your loved ones <3
Tumblr media
gift bag in hand, you wander into the restaurant. there’s cheesy christmas music drifting through the speakers, a tree in the corner, lights everywhere; you immediately spot jesse and dina, the latter waving at you as soon as you enter.
“hey!” she greets when you walk up, standing to put her arms around you. “how are you?”
“good, good,” you reply, one-handedly returning her embrace before leaning down to give jesse a quick hug. “you?”
“good. i mean, life is fucking killing me in general, but y’know.” she sits back down, watching as you place your belongings to the side and shuffle your chair in. “where’s ellie?”
you shrug. “no idea, i haven’t talked to her today. probably isn’t even on her way yet.”
“most likely,” jesse adds, smirking.
“has anyone texted her?” you ask, looking between the two of them.
the couple share a glance, wordlessly confirming before looking back at you.
“uh… no,” jesse states.
“dude.”
you pull your phone out, knowing all too well what ellie’s like. even if she knows she has to be somewhere, she’ll stay up way too late; and if no-one gets in touch with her in the morning, she won’t be up and ready for it.
selecting her contact and calling her, you press your phone to your ear. she surprisingly answers after two rings, clearly walking down the street, wind whipping past the microphone.
“hello?”
“just checking you’re awake.”
“uh, okay, sorry, i’m literally… like, ‘round the corner.”
“hurry up, ‘cause the manager says if all members of the party aren’t here in five minutes we’re getting kicked out,” you deadpan, casting a smirk at your friends.
“very funny.”
you automatically turn your head when you hear the door open, both through your phone and behind you. ellie bustles through it, phone between her ear and shoulder, waving with her free hand before ending the call. she heads over to the table, taking the empty seat beside you. dina looks on, giving her an exaggerated offended stare.
“uh, the fuck, do i not get a hug?”
ellie rolls her eyes with a small smile, gesturing her over. “come here.”
dina happily totters over, leaning over ellie’s chair and wrapping her arms around her shoulders from behind. ellie shifts her hand, giving her forearm a few pats before she pulls away.
“happy?”
“yup.” dina sits back down, budging her chair in before clapping her hands together lightly. “okay. gifts before or after food?”
ellie scoffs lightly at her impatience. “i literally just got here.”
“you want everyone to say before, 'cause you want yours now,” jesse comments fondly, leaning an elbow on the table.
“… correct. but i really don’t mind, whatever you guys wanna do.”
“i don’t mind. we can do it now,” you add.
dina’s eyes flit between each of you mischievously. “can we do it now?”
“let’s do it now,” you confirm with a chuckle, leaning forward and pointing your hand at dina. “you first — your idea.”
she grins, reaching to pick up her gift bag and holding it out to ellie. “i got you.”
ellie takes it from her, smirking lightly as she takes out the tissue paper on top. her expression changes when she sees the first item, eyebrows scrunching and letting out a drawn-out scoff. “bro, what the fuck?”
dina laughs knowingly.
“what is it?” jesse questions, chuckling lightly. she just holds it up in reply, pivoting it back and forth so you can all see, avoiding eye contact with you. it’s a hot pink bullet vibrator.
“y’know… ‘cause you’re gay and stuff,” dina jovially explains, holding her hands up in gesture. ellie just stares at her, blinking slowly and holding back a laugh. “ladies’ll love it.”
“what ladies?” jesse remarks quietly, earning himself a light-hearted tap from ellie’s shoe under the table.
“anyway…” ellie gingerly sets the box down on the table, digging back through the bag. “thank you for that, dina.”
the rest of the gifts are sweet; she’d gotten her a dinosaur mug, her favorite chips, and a band tee. she holds them up in turn for you all to look at, placing everything back in when she’s done and thanking dina.
dina nods in acknowledgement, smiling warmly. you all look at ellie expectantly, who settles into her chair holding a clueless expression on her face.
“it’s your turn,” jesse reminds her after a moment of silence.
“oh, shit, yeah.” she sits back up, picking up her gift bag from the floor and passing it over to you, dragging the action out in amplified suspense. you grin, taking it from her gently. “thank you.”
dipping your hand in, you take out the first item. it’s your favorite scent of candle, one you always had on in your room. you’d never mentioned anything about it to her, but ellie was like that. always quietly noticing.
there’s another, bigger item in there, too. you pull it out the wrong way, turning it around to get a look; it’s a framed painting of your favorite musician.
“oh my god, this is awesome!” you say, looking at ellie. “where did you get this?”
“uh, i didn’t…” she trails off softly, looking down at her hands for a moment. “i made it.”
your eyebrows raise, smile widening. “no fucking way. you painted this?”
there’s a small, coy smile on her face as she nods. “… you like it?”
“you serious? i love it, this is like the coolest thing ever.” you look back at the painting, studying the fine details; it looks like it took her a good while. “thank you so much.”
“wait, i wanna see!” dina chimes in, reaching over the table for it.
jesse leans in as you pass it over, peering over her shoulder. “woah… this is good, ellie. why the hell weren’t you my secret santa?”
ellie tuts playfully, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “you’d have gotten coal.”
the rest of the gift exchange goes ahead, temporarily halted by the waiter coming to take your orders. you got dina; dina got jesse. 
the secret santa was a silly tradition you’d upheld over the years. one that became more precious when you left high school, and you and ellie got into a different college as the other two. you still saw each other wherever possible, and had a group chat that was active daily; still, it was hard being away from your closest childhood friends. you found yourself missing just being able to text dina to come pick you up, getting drive-thru and talking shit in her car until the early hours.
every year when you were all home for christmas, you made a point of meeting up. while normally all busy with your own plans, no matter what, you’d always clear your schedule for at least one day.
after the meal, dina announces that she’s booked ice skating — to which ellie lets out a groan.
“why?” she complains, drawing the word out. “you know i’m horrible at it.”
“yeah, why do you think i made the reservation?” dina counters teasingly. ellie just gives her a look.
when you get down there, in the middle of lacing up your skates, ellie flops down next to you to put hers on and lets out a dramatic sigh.
you cast her a sideways glance, smirking fondly. “oh, shut up, it’ll be fun.”
“you don’t understand, i fucking suck.”
“get a penguin,” you respond, chuckling as you finish up, leaning back to wait for her.
she lets out a laugh. “no… embarrassing.”
“plenty of people have them.” you gesture out to the rink.
“yeah, they’re all ten and under.”
rolling your eyes, you train your gaze on dina already out there. she whizzes past fairly gracefully, dragging jesse along. “hold dina’s hand, she’s pretty good.”
“no, she goes too fast. i’d end up eating shit.”
“i think that’s gonna happen either way.”
she sighs lightly, pulling a dejected face as she finishes tying her laces. going to stand, you offer a hand to haul her up, keeping hold of it as you both dodder over to the edge of the rink.
you get on first, a little unsteady; you’re passable at skating, at best. ellie hesitantly places a first foot onto the ice, free hand clinging onto the side as she ungracefully enters fully. one of the skates almost goes out from under her and catapults her flying into the barrier; it nearly takes you out, too, sending you off balance.
failing to hold back from laughing at her, you give her hand a squeeze. “ellie, oh my god.”
“i fuckin’ told you!”
“look, you’ll be fine, just hold onto the side and i’ll, like… drag you.”
“real elegant.”
you raise an eyebrow, jutting your neck slightly forward in gesture. “rather fend for yourself?”
she pauses, sheepishly looking to the left, then back at you. “… no.”
“come on, then.”
it goes about how you expected, moving along at a snail’s pace, ellie practically white-knuckling the barrier. by the time you’ve gotten to the other side of the rink, dina and jesse have passed you twice; on the first, teasingly cackling at you, on the second, calling out, ‘losers’.
you pat ellie’s arm in jest, giggling at the exclamation. “don’t listen to them, they’re mean.”
not long after, you actually come up behind two people slower than you; a young boy and a grandma, trailing around the edge of the rink hand-in-hand. you deal with it for a few minutes, but the thought of being stuck behind them the whole time proves too irritating.
“we’re gonna pass these people,” you mutter to ellie, leaning in. “you’re gonna have to let go, and—“
she cuts you off, shaking her head vehemently. “no, no, no. dude, i can’t.”
“you gotta. literally just let go for like, two seconds, hold onto me while we go around. it’s chill.”
you were wrong — it was not, in fact, chill. essentially the second ellie lets go of the barrier, she panics and wobbles. that, in turn, makes her panic even more, and she completely loses her footing. calling out your name in comical distress, she goes down in a heap, automatically grasping onto the back of your jacket and bringing you down with her.
you crack up after the shock of hitting frigid, wet ice wears off. it seeps through your sleeves and jeans, goosebumps forming. “ellie, what the fuck?”
“i’m sorry,” she laughs along, sitting up and flicking the moisture off of her hands. “i’m so sorry.”
you manage to get over to the side and hoist yourself up. whilst you’re in the process of attempting to get ellie on her feet without being yanked back down, jesse and dina fly past again, cheering dramatically at the sight.
ellie turns to flip them off; the motion destabilizes her, and she topples and lands flat on her ass all over again.
Tumblr media
later, when you’ve all hugged and parted ways, you’re in your childhood bedroom winding down when you receive a series of texts from her.
Tumblr media
you head over to the corner of your room where you’d dropped your stuff on entry, taking your gifts out of the bag and rechecking. camouflaged against the interior, flat against the bottom, there’s a small envelope addressed to you.
opening it and taking out the folded paper, you can’t hold back from smiling. it’s a letter, decorated with silly stickers.
i just wanted to write you a letter to let you know how much i appreciate you :) i am very lucky to have you in my life and i always look forward to spending time with you even if we’re just hanging out in each other’s rooms and rotting. 
i kinda struggle with getting to know people (woah shock) and when i first moved i was so fucking worried i was gonna literally have no friends LOL. but right from the beginning you, jesse and dina made it so easy. don’t tell them this because i'll never hear the end of it, but it was mainly you. you were always going out of your way to talk to me and include me and stuff, and it meant a lot. and at risk of sounding super weird as soon as i saw you, i knew you were going to be an important person to me. 
back in school when we were applying to college, honestly i was scared that you were going to end up going somewhere different to me. like to the point i wouldn’t be able to sleep some nights because i’d just be up thinking about it. anyway, i’m so glad it all worked out. wouldn’t wanna do this shit with anyone else <3
love you always
ellie
heading back over to your bed to grab your phone, you text her again, letter sitting at the side of you.
Tumblr media
462 notes · View notes
w4ndal0ver · 3 months ago
Text
The Art of Submission (2)
Tumblr media
[minors don't interact, 18+]
pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader
chapter summary: The tension between you and Wanda becomes too much and you finally give into her alluring remarks and suggestions. She breaks you.
whole summary: As a growing author, you're grappling with a frustrating writer's block while trying to craft your next lesbian erotic novel. With a lack of personal experience holding you back, inspiration seems just out of reach. But when a captivating neighbour steps in, offering unexpected support and a tantalizing invitation to explore the depths of desire, you find yourself on a journey that blurs the lines between reality and fiction, leading to a discovery that you definitely weren't expecting.
content warnings: continuing the insane amount of sexual tension, mention of heavy dom/sub dynamic, fingering, orgasm denial, begging.
note: So this is the second instalment and I definitely have never put this much work into the build up of what's basically a shamelessly dirty smutty story, however I hope you enjoy. (the next instalment is where things get super interesting and it will be out soon)
The Art of Submission - Chapter 2
Your heart is still racing, the taste of Wanda’s lips lingering as you lean back, trying to catch your breath. She watches you, her eyes shimmering with a mixture of curiosity and something darker, more dangerous. 
“I can see the wheels turning in that beautiful head of yours.” she teases, her finger still resting on her lips as if savouring the kiss, “what are you thinking.” 
You try to compose yourself, offering a playful smile in return. “I’m thinking you’re trouble,” you say, but the voice betrays the thrill surging through you. Wanda’s energy is magnetic and you’re already caught in the strength of her pull. 
She chuckles softly, leaning closer so that her arm brushes against yours again. The subtle contact makes your nerve endings tremble. “Oh, I think you like a little trouble.” She murmurs, her tone smooth as silk. She tilts her head slightly, eyes gleaming as they enter that same darling lock with yours once more. “It's not the writing, is it?” she asks, eyes glistening, “It’s what you’re writing about.”
You shift, unsure of how to answer, but Wanda presses on, her tone softer, coaxing you forward. “You know what you want to say,” She whispers, her fingers brushing a slow maddening path along your thigh. “It’s the feeling you’re struggling with. The way to express it… to make it real.”
Your breath hitches. You don’t respond right away, too caught up in the way she’s watching you, her gaze predatory and knowing. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and it’s clear she’s not letting you off easily. 
“What is it that you’re really trying to explore?” Wanda’s voice is like velvet, low and intimate. “Sadomasochism, right? It’s more than just the physical, it's the headspace, the emotional surrender, pushing limits.” Her words stir something deep inside of you, a part of you that you hadn’t fully acknowledged until now. You nod meekly, almost on instinct, feeling the weight of her hand anchoring you in place. 
“You’re not struggling with the plot,” she continues, her voice soft but relentless, “You’re struggling with how far to take it. How far to go beyond ‘safe.’” Her thumb continues to stroke a slow deliberate circle just above your knee, and your breath catchers at the subtle increase in pressure. “You’ve written about control before, but this is different. This is about letting go completely.” 
With that your pulse is on fire, her words hitting home. It is different. It’s darker and dangerous and Wanda is pushing you toward that edge, darling you to step over it. 
Her lips curve into a slow and wicked smile. “Maybe” She pushes, her voice laced with heat, “you’re scared to write about what you actually want.” Your body tenses at the insinuation and Wanda picks up on it immediately. She doesn’t pull away though, if anything, she leans in closer, her breath brushing the side of your neck. “You want to write about power,” She whispers, her hand sliding higher, the pressure firm but tantalising, “About giving it up, about what it feels like when someone takes it from you.” She pauses, letting her words settle into the heavy air between you, “but the only way to write that truthfully is to understand it.”
Your throat feels tight, your body alive with the tension crackling between you. You can’t find any words, but Wanda doesn’t seem to need them. She reads every flicker of your expression. Every quickening breath makes that wicked smile deepen.
“You can’t fake that kind of intensity darling,” Her voice is almost hypnotic, “You need to feel it. You need to know what it’s like to hand over your control, to be at someone else's mercy.” You feel her fingers move higher up your thigh. She’s testing you, waiting to see how far she can push you before you break. 
“And maybe,” She adds, her hand reaching up to tuck your hair away from your face, her lips brushing the shell of your ear, “You’re tired of always being the one in control.”
This was when you realised how close she had gotten to you, her hand still on your leg, firm and unyielding, grounding you in the moment as her breath fans across your neck. “It’s okay.” her voice soft but demanding, “to want something different, to want to feel different.”
The tension between you is palpable now, the air charged with the unspoken promise of what could come next. Wanda’s touch, so deliberate, so confident, feels like a silent dare - a challenge to take that next step, to let yourself go. “Tell me,” Her lips are almost brushing yours as she speaks, “What do you really want.”
You meet her gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as the weight of her question sinks in. Your mind races, torn between the familiar safety of control and the intoxicating allure of surrender. But Wanda’s eyes hold you captive, drawing you deeper into her web and you know there’s no turning back now. 
Wanda’s hand remains a steady weight on your thigh, the heat from her palm seeping into your bare skin. The faint scent of her perfume surrounds you, the intensity of the smell pulling you in deeper. She tilts her head ever so slightly, her auburn hair falling in soft waves over her shoulder as she studies you, “You’re thinking too much again,” she says, her voice a quiet murmur. Her thumb continues its slow, torturous circle against your thigh. 
“I’m not- I just-.” You start, but the words get caught in your throat. Your hands restless in your lap as you fidget under her unwavering stare, the one that is watching every tiny flicker of emotion that crosses your face. 
“You don’t need to be nervous,” She says slowly, “Not with me.” You can feel her body heat now, the way her knee is pressing against yours, her hand resting higher on your thigh, just enough to remind you of her control without pushing too far. “Look at me.” She demands, her tone firmer now, the authority in her voice making your pulse jump. You turn your head back to her, your eyes meeting hers and she holds your gaze, unrelenting. “You can’t write it if you can’t say it.”
The words feel impossibly heavy on your tongue, but the heat of Wanda’s body so close to yours makes it harder to resist. You lick your lips, trying to steady yourself and finally the words come out, shaky and quiet. “I want to give up control.”
Wanda’s smile widens, a gleam of satisfaction flashing in her eyes. Her hand continues to slide higher, fingertips brushing the sensitive skin just above the hem of your tiny black skirt. Her thumb tracing the line of your inner thigh now with an agonising slowness. “Good,” She purrs, her voice dripping with approval, “But that's only part of it, isn’t it?”
You can’t look away from her, your chest tight with anticipation. She’s close enough that you can see the faint freckles scattered across her cheeks, the way her lips curve into that teasing smile. Her fingers move again, deliberate, testing, and your body reacts instinctively, a soft gasp escaping your lips.
Her eyes darken with amusement, “Tell me the rest,” she coaxes, her voice like velvet, “What do you want from me?”
The question hangs between you, and your breath catches itself. Your hands trembling slightly in your lap and you glance down, the words heavy and terrifying as they try to force their way out. Wanda’s touch on your leg is insistent, her presence so overwhelming that you can hardly think straight. 
“I- I want you to-” Your voice wavers, but Wanda’s gaze still doesn’t falter. 
“Go on,” Her fingers brushing just a little higher, dangerously close to where you feel the heat pooling beneath your skin, finally becoming aware of the arousal that had built between your legs, “Say it.”
The tension between you is unbearable, the pull of her command undeniable. You bite your lip, you’d never wanted anybody more than Wanda at this moment. “I want you to take control.” Now, everything feels suspended, the weight of your confession hanging in the charged air between you. 
“That wasn’t so hard, was it.” She murmurs, her voice teasing your timid and shaky reactions. You shake your head in nervous response, her hand moves again, a millimetre higher, the pressure firmer and you feel your body shudder under her gentle but demanding touch. “Now that you’ve said it, we can explore what it really means.” 
Wanda’s eyes stayed locked on yours, that familiar, testing glint dancing in their depths. She leaned back, her posture easy, as if she was weighing her next move carefully. “You know what you want,” Wanda murmured softly, her voice caressing your face, “But you haven’t said it out loud yet.”
You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry, “I- I don’t know if I can.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Wanda’s lips curved into a smile, her body leaning towards yours, her fingertips now dancing lightly over her own wrist, an unspoken reminder of the power she held, a soft contrast to the hard edge in her voice. 
Your eyes flickered to the small motion, captivated by the simplicity of it. Her confidence was dizzying, making your chest tighten with a mix of excitement and intimidation. 
“I-” You started, you wanted to tell her, to finally give in to that pull she had over you, but the fear of laying yourself bare - of admitting the truth - made your heart race, “I’m not sure how to say it.”
Wanda’s hand slid from her wrist, gliding across the table between you until it stopped short of touching yours. She hovered there, the warmth from her skin so close you could almost feel it, yet she didn’t make contact. 
“Let me make it easier for you then,” She whispers, her voice laced with control, “Do you want me to touch you? Is that what you’re afraid to say?” This time she cocks her head, her eyes never leaving your face. Her lips parted slightly as she waited, giving you the space to answer but tightening the leash on the unspoken tension between you. 
Every part of you screamed yes, but your voice remained trapped so all you could do was nod. Wanda’s eyes were still flickering with satisfaction, as though she had expected this. She didn’t move right away, letting the silence build around you, drawing out the longing anticipation until it felt as if time had stopped completely. 
“I didn’t hear you,” She said, her fingers finally brushing the back of your hand, the lightest touch, almost too soft to feel. 
“I want you to touch me.” You could hardly believe you had said it, your voice barely audible, but the words were out now and there was no taking them back.
Wanda’s smirk deepened, her confidence growing as she saw the effect she was having on you. Her fingers shifted over the back of your hand before slipping up to your wrist. She was barely touching you, yet it felt like she had control of every nerve in your body. 
“You see,” she said quietly, her lips brushing the words against the air between you, “this is the kind of power you need to understand. Submission is about giving yourself over completely… even when it scares you.” Her fingers tightened around your wrist, a gentle hold, but there was no mistaking the control she was exerting over you.
Your breath quickened, and you felt your chest rise and fall faster with each passing second. She was pushing you—testing you—but in a way that made you feel safe, even as your body screamed with anticipation.
Wanda’s other hand came to rest on your knee, light at first, but her grip slowly tightened, her thumb drawing slow, deliberate circles on your skin. It was all you could do to remain still, your muscles tense under her touch, your entire body hyper-aware of every inch of contact.
Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared back at her. The room felt smaller, the air too thick to breathe properly. She wasn’t just asking you about the book anymore. She was asking you what you wanted. What you were ready for. “Say it,” she commanded softly, her voice leaving no room for hesitation, sensing that you were holding back your words.
Your pulse quickened, your body aching with the tension of holding back. “I want to go further,” you whispered, the words leaving your lips before you even had time to think them through. “I want… to give up control.”
Wanda smiled, her satisfaction evident in the way her fingers flexed against your skin. “Good,” she murmured, her tone dripping with approval. “Then let’s start.” She leaned in, her breath warm against your ear as her lips barely grazed your skin. “But remember... it’s my control now.”
Your body tensed, but not from fear. The tension was different—an anticipation, a feeling like you were about to step off the edge of something and you weren’t sure what lay below. And yet, with Wanda, you felt drawn to that edge, even if it terrified you. She leaned back just slightly, her lips no longer hovering near your ear, but her eyes never left yours, still piercing, still searching.
“Are you ready to surrender?” she asked, her voice low but commanding, her fingers curling just slightly tighter around your wrist. “To give me what I want?”
You couldn’t speak right away. The knot of nerves and excitement twisted inside your stomach, making it hard to find your voice. You swallowed, your lips parting as you struggled to answer.
“I—” you started, but her fingers tightened again, not painfully, but enough to remind you that she was in control now.
“Shh,” she whispered, her thumb stroking lightly across your skin, calming and demanding all at once. “Take a breath. You’re trembling.”
She was right. You hadn’t noticed how much your body was shaking, every nerve ending tingling from her touch, from the intensity of the moment. You drew in a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, and her grip loosened just enough to give you space to catch your breath.
Wanda’s eyes softened, though the playful glint remained in them. She seemed to enjoy watching you wrestle with the tension between desire and fear. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice soothing but with an undercurrent of control. “You don’t have to rush. Just tell me how you want this to feel.”
Her hand on your knee shifted slightly, her fingers sliding just a bit higher, making your breath catch again. She was so good at this—so practised, it seemed—like she knew exactly how to push you, how to keep you teetering on that edge.
You licked your lips, your pulse still racing, but your nerves slowly giving way to a sense of surrender. You didn’t want to hold back anymore. You didn’t want to be afraid of what you were feeling. “I want… I want to feel like I’m not in control,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The admission came out almost like a confession, like you were telling her something you’d barely admitted to yourself.
Wanda smiled, her eyes lighting up with approval. “Good,” she murmured, her fingers shifting again, just slightly, but it was enough to send another wave of sensation through you. “And what else?”
You felt heat rush to your cheeks, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to put the words together. “I want you to push me,” you said, your voice more confident now, even if your body still trembled under her touch. “I want to feel like I don’t know what’s coming next.”
Wanda’s smirk deepened, and her fingers slid higher still, her touch achingly slow, deliberate. “You want to be surprised,” she mused, her voice soft but filled with that same commanding tone that made your pulse quicken. “You want to be on the edge, not knowing what I’ll do, but trusting that I won’t let you fall.”
Your breath caught in your throat, and you nodded slowly. “Yes.”
Wanda’s hand released your wrist, and for a moment you felt the loss of her touch like a sudden drop, your skin buzzing in the absence of her grip. But then, she moved closer, her thigh pressing against yours, her fingers brushing the side of your neck. It was such a simple gesture, yet it held so much weight—so much promise.
“I can do that,” she whispered, her lips curving into that dangerous smile. “But first…” Her thumb traced the line of your jaw, making your breath hitch. “I want to hear you say it again. Say that you want to surrender.”
Your heart pounded in your chest, your body feeling heavy with the tension she was weaving around you. But this time, you didn’t hesitate. “I want to surrender,” you whispered, your voice stronger, more certain. “To you.”
Wanda’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, and she leaned in, her lips brushing yours for the briefest of moments, a featherlight touch that made your body yearn for more. “Good,” she breathed against your lips. “Then let me show you what it feels like to let go.”
She pulled back just enough to keep the tension hanging between you, her hands moving deliberately down your arms, her touch slow, intentional, as though savouring the moment. Your entire body was on edge, waiting for her next move, but she kept you there—suspended in that delicious tension, every touch, every breath drawn out.
Her fingers slid down your arms, stopping just at your wrists, holding them with a gentle but commanding grip. “Let me take over,” she whispered, her voice so close to your ear you could feel the warmth of her breath. “Let me guide you.”
You nodded, your body trembling with anticipation, and with that single movement, you felt the shift. Wanda was no longer waiting for permission—she was in control now, and you could feel the power dynamic shift, a current running between you that electrified the air. The question wasn’t whether you wanted to give in anymore. The question was how far you were willing to let her take you.
Wanda’s fingers trace slow, deliberate circles along the inside of your wrist, her touch sending a quiet hum of electricity up your arm. She holds your gaze, her eyes darkening, the room suddenly feeling smaller, the air heavier.
"You don’t have to be afraid of saying what you want," Wanda whispers, her lips barely moving. Her voice is low, controlled, as if she already knows your answer, but she’s waiting—enjoying the power of making you say it aloud.
You swallow, your throat dry. Her proximity, the subtle scent of her skin, the way her fingers never stop moving—it’s all dizzying. Your mind spins, words getting tangled in the heat between you. "I—"
Wanda tilts her head, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. She leans in closer, her breath brushing against your cheek. "Tell me."
It’s not a request—it’s a command, soft but insistent. Her hand slides up, teasingly grazing your collarbone, her fingertips feather-light but purposeful, waiting for you to open the door completely.
“I want...” Your voice falters, your chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. The weight of what’s about to happen presses in from all sides, but there’s something intoxicating in it. Something you can’t pull away from. “I want you to show me.”
Wanda’s smirk deepens, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “That’s my girl,” she murmurs, and in that instant, everything shifts.
You’re burning now, every inch of your body is desperate to feel the touch of her, even your mind is beginning to surrender itself to her. Wanda’s eyes finally broke the strong gaze that she had been holding, her glare now roaming down your body. You weren’t wearing anything particularly flattering, just a plain white cropped jumper paired with a short black skirt, but Wanda’s eyes still sparkled in delight at the sight of you sitting trembling on the kitchen stool. 
Her grip around your wrist turns into a pull as she closes the gap between them, pushing her lips against yours, dragging her tongue across your bottom lip. You immediately give her the control, allowing her access, the kiss deepening as she slides her hand up the back of your neck, her nails grazing against your skin. You whine into her mouth and you can feel her lips curve into that same smile as she takes your bottom lip between her teeth, lightly tugging. 
As she pulls away, her hand trails from your neck down your back, just one finger tracing the line all the way down your spine. “Are you comfortable with this?” Wanda asks, her voice deeper, laced with lust. You nod, your hand roaming to the back of her neck, gesturing for her to come back. “No, you need to learn to use your words honey.”
“Yes I’m comfortable.” You say, your voice laden with confidence all of a sudden and the look that this earned you made you understand why you would do anything she asked of you. 
“Oh, sweet girl, that’s better.” Wanda praises and your cheeks flush scarlet in response. Her finger traces the outline of your jaw, her hand stopping against your chin, guiding you face upwards to meet her stare. With the length of your neck exposed, she leans in to make gentle kisses against your skin, the back of her hand keeping your neck rigid against her lips. You could feel your thighs squeezing together, the slow anticipation and sudden grazes of her teeth driving you crazy.
“Ah, ah, ah.” Wanda warns, spreading your thighs back open just enough that she can stand between your legs. Her hands roam down the underneath of your thighs, her touches so gentle that you were surprised you were so desperate for her. Her fingers kept brushing closer towards where you needed her, your hips rolling towards her hand in a desperate attempt for any contact. “I need to establish a few things with you okay?” 
You nod and you can see her suck her tongue between her teeth, the tilt of her head and the dark disapproving look that emerged immediately made you feel shameful in yourself, “Sorry, Yes Wanda.” Her frown turned into a smile, one that made your entire core shake. 
This time as her hand edged closer to you, she didn’t stop, allowing her fingers to lightly brush your dampened underwear, an excited gasp eliciting from the redhead as your head hangs in prolonged anticipation. “Much better, you see when you do what I want, you get rewarded.” Wanda was laying down her expectations of you, but your brain was fuzzy as her fingers continued to explore the edges of your underwear that had become completely soaked in the process. 
You begin to grip the sides of your stool as you feel Wanda dip her finger underneath the drenched material, gently skimming the length of your sensitive skin, not giving you what you needed but enough to make you tremble. Her stance between your legs, your head leaning to rest against her chest as she felt her way through the wetness that she found between your legs. 
“When you do something against what I’ve told you, for whatever reason, you will get punished.” Wanda states, removing her fingers from you, leaving you without any contact. You whine at the loss, hips jutting against your will in an attempt to regain some friction. “Do you know what you like?”
You shake your head, brain foggy with desperation. Wanda pinches the skin between your thighs and you yelp in pain, “No Wanda.” You say, immediately correcting yourself
“That’s okay, we can talk about it and I can help you explore these things.” She demands and you swallow hard as she bites her lip feeling the thrill of your innocent vulnerability. “From now on you’ll be my good girl, and I’ll guide you through this, do you understand?”
“Yes Wanda.” With your immediate submission to her rules, her eyes darken with intensity as she replaces her hand back to where you needed her. You gasp at the immediate contact against your clit, her fingers skilfully finding your bundle of nerves beneath your underwear, gently tapping the pad of her finger against it. 
“I know you’re familiar with the traffic light system.” Wanda continues, referencing your latest novel, a blush forming in your already flushed cheeks at the reminder that this is what led her into your apartment. “But this is very important, if you ever feel uncomfortable or want to slow down, just say your colour.”
“I understand.” You pant through breathy gasps, Wanda’s taps had become circles against your bundle of nerves and you could feel your core burning as she sent jolts of electricity through your body with nothing but gentle touches. 
“That’s it, you’re getting the hang of it, pretty girl.” A soft moan erupted from your lips at her words and Wanda’s gaze dances over your face, warmth radiating from her eyes as she cherishes in their first moment. She lifts your chin once again so your eyes finally meet and she smiles at the lust and desperation hidden within the depth of your eyes.
You feel your orgasm nearing as Wanda speeds up her movements, her grip on your chin forcing you to look at her as she unravels you in your own kitchen. “Rule one, you don’t cum unless I give you the permission to do so.” Her voice was commanding and authoritative, her look fierce and unwavering, making it clear that she knows exactly what she wants. 
“Y-yes.” You manage to get out, your body shaking as Wanda increased the pressure on your swollen clit, the short breathy moans that escaped your lips driving her forward, not wanting to tease you now, just wanting to see what you look like when you’re brought to the very edge, longing to see your head throw back and whine her name as she takes you over the brink. 
“You’re close aren’t you princess.” Wanda exclaims, her smile not once leaving her lips as she tilts your head backwards slightly, forcing you to look up at her with a longing desperation that she couldn’t wait to draw out in the future. 
“Wanda, please let me cum, I’m so close.” Your body was itching you closer and closer towards your orgasm but you were determined to wait for her order, wanting to prove yourself to her. 
“Hold it for me, you can do it.” Wanda instructs and you whine against her grip on your chin, doing everything you can to hold it back, every nerve in your body on fire as she relentlessly works against your clit. 
“I can’t, I need-” You splutter, slamming your hand into the counter, doing everything you could. Your fingers are gripping the counter, so tightly that your knuckles turn white trying to fight for control. You tilt your head back further, lips parting in a silent plea, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the sensation becomes almost too much to bear. Even with your eyes closed you can feel Wanda’s gaze on you, a silent command for you to wait, keeping you just on the edge, right where she wants you.
Wanda leans closer, her lips ghosting over your ear, her breath warm against your skin. You shudder, barely able to hold on, her voice a soft, commanding whisper, ‘Beg for it.’
“Wanda,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with both desperation and longing. The way her name rolls off your tongue feels almost sacramental, a plea that resonates deep within you. You shift your weight, leaning slightly closer, as if the proximity could bridge the gap between your need and her control.“Please... I need—” You pause, swallowing hard, the heat pooling in your cheeks, shame and excitement mingling in a dizzying dance. “I need your permission.”
The admission hangs heavy in the air, charged with vulnerability. You can feel the pulse of anticipation thrumming through your veins, your body alive with the struggle of restraint. You take a steadying breath, grounding yourself as your fingers twist into the fabric again, a subtle plea for her to grant you this one thing.
“Please let me...” The words falter for a moment, but you force them out, the urgency driving you forward. “I can’t hold back anymore. I want to let go... but I need you to say it.”
The sincerity in your voice is palpable, raw and real, and you can see the flicker of something in Wanda's eyes—a mixture of pride and hunger. You lean in slightly, tilting your head, your gaze unwavering as you lock eyes with her, silently urging her to make that connection, to pull you from the precipice you’re hanging on.
Wanda’s smile widens, a slow, deliberate curve of her lips that sends a thrill racing down your spine. “You’re doing so well,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry, teasing your senses. She leans in closer, her warm breath fanning across your skin, igniting every nerve ending in your body. “But you know what you have to do to earn that release, don’t you?” Her swift circles against your clit were becoming stronger, the continuous roll of her contact pushing you closer and closer to an edge that you thought you’d already reached.
Your heart pounds harder, each beat resonating with the anticipation of what’s to come. You nod, swallowing hard, the words hovering on the tip of your tongue, begging to escape. Wanda watches you, her eyes glimmering with a mixture of authority and desire, and in that moment, you know that she holds the power to grant you the freedom you crave.
“Say it,” she instructs, her tone firm yet inviting. “Tell me what you want.” 
The air is thick with tension, and your body betrays you, trembling with the weight of your desire. You take a breath, feeling every fibre of your being attuned to her, your vulnerability laid bare. “I want... I want to come,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with desperation.
For a moment, she holds your gaze, the intensity of her stare igniting something primal within you. “Good girl,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry. “I want you to let go, to feel everything I’ve been promising you. When I give you permission, you can release all that pent-up desire.”
You feel the flood of relief and exhilaration coursing through you, a wave of warmth washing over your body at her words. “Yes... please,” you urge, each syllable laced with a sense of urgency. “I need it, Wanda.”
With a slow, deliberate smile, she nods, her expression shifting to one of wicked delight. “Then go ahead, my sweet girl. You have my permission, cum for me.”
The moment the words leave her lips, a rush of sensation crashes over you like a wave, and you feel your body surrendering to the intoxicating pull of release. It’s everything you’ve been yearning for, and in that moment, the world fades away, leaving only the intoxicating pleasure that Wanda has granted you. Wanda continues circling your clit, helping you ride out the orgasm that you’d so desperately waited for. 
Once the pleasure has washed over you, all you can do is sit with Wanda standing between your legs, her brazen eyes beating down at you, her fingers still massaging into your thighs, sensing the sensitivity from your subtle squirms in response to her touch. 
“My god Wanda.” You say in utter astonishment at the woman's talent and it was her turn for her cheeks to grow slightly blushed at the praise, “I’ve never felt like that before, you’re incredible.”
“So you want this?” Wanda blushes, that dominating persona slowly breaking down at a few compliments. You mentally noted that down, knowing that it would come in useful at a later date. 
“I want nothing more than to do whatever this is with you.” You state honestly, your body still burning. You reach up to tuck her auburn hair behind her ear, the one strand that had been sat directly in front of her eyeline the entire evening. 
With that you exchanged numbers and you found yourself eagerly sitting waiting for the first text.
506 notes · View notes
deathbxnny · 1 month ago
Note
hey i was wondering if you could do how arcane characters would react to seeing their partner looking really good dressed up?? also i love ur writing!!
Arcane characters reacting to their s/o dressed up really pretty. | Vi, Ekko, Jinx x Gn!Reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Thank you for the request, Anon, and I hope you'll enjoy this!!<3
Content: Established romantic relationships, fluff, sfw
Reader has no set pronouns.
((Not proofread))
Tumblr media
》VI
"Ooh... where are we going?" A wide grin rested on her lips as she watched you put on your fancy shoes and straighten out the last details of your pretty attire. "I'm going out with a couple friends." In other words, she was not invited. But Vi couldn't hear you over the sound of her mind spinning with many different thoughts.
Humming, she leaned against a wall next to you, intensely dark eyes staring you down with a glint that made you shake your head in defiance. "No." "Oh come on, Cupcake! Do you really have to go out today? I mean... I can go along. It's dangerous around this time of the night and-" "-Viiii. I can take care of myself." She pouted at your clear disagreement, hardly attempting to even hide how much she loved the way you looked.
"Aw... please? At least let me tag alone so I can show you off to everyone." Typical. And yet, you had a hard time denying her anything when her hands suddenly sneaked around your waist so smoothly. She always got what she wanted out of you in the end. Not that you necessarily minded.
"Fineeee... but keep your hands to yourself around them." You huff out whilst your heart warmed a t the sight of pure excitement on her face. But the slyness in her smirk didn't leave as she gratefully kissed your cheek and let go. "Can't promise you that when you're looking so good, unfortunately... but I'll try. For now."
Rolling your eyes with a smile, you let her happily run off to get ready, glad that she enjoyed your outfit a lot.
Tumblr media
》EKKO
He was stunned at the sight of you emerging from the bedroom, fully dressed up so beautifully it left him speechless. The Firelights were having a huge festival in celebration of a recent successful mission, and of course, you were both expected to look your best. And you weren't the type to ever disappoint either.
It was rare to see you dressed up so nicely, the cute outfit being one he had only seen a small couple of times before due to your line of work and life circumstances. But in his mind, you looking so good was a sign of success. He wanted you to be able to dress that way every day, perhaps another motivation of his to continue going.
"How do I look?" You ask, the nervous tone in your voice making his eyes soften even further. "You look great. Who are you trying to impress, hm?" His words were playful as he grabbed your waist carefully. Ekko mirrored the shy smile that crept onto your lips at his question. "A certain someone. I don't think you know him, though." You played along, watching as he raised a brow with an unimpressed smirk.
"Hm... maybe we shouldn't go out then-" "-Oi! Why are you guys taking so long? Let's get going." Scar's voice made you both jump, as he appeared in the doorway and waved you over. A sly smirk crept onto your face as you quickly followed after the man. "Ah, there he is! See ya around, Ekko!" "Hey! I'll remember this-!" Running after you two, he couldn't help but laugh a little.
The festival was going to be great, to say the least.
Tumblr media
》JINX
You were just trying out some new clothes you had gotten. Nothing special and definitely not for anyone else's eyes, except for hers. Once you were done, you were quick to hunt down your girlfriend to show her your outfit. "Jinx! How do I look?" You asked, a happy smile on your lips as you now stood next to her, whilst she tinkered away on some projects. Removing her googles, she glanced up at you and blinked in surprise, near speechless for a moment.
Nervously shifting under her intense gaze, you wondered if she didn't like it. "Uhm... should I go change or-" "-You look really good..." She muttered thoughtfully before a large grin crept onto her lips mischievously. "A bit too good! Makes me nearly jealous, pretty. How about you dress me up too so we can match?" You should have honestly seen this coming, as she enjoys doing cute things like that with you.
And so, you did as she asked, whilst she painted your nails to match her own. By the end of it, you looked like you were headed to a fancy event, something she found greatly amusing. Kicking a nearby radio to make it play music, she held out her hand to you with a bright smile. "Alright, let's get this party started!"
Tumblr media
984 notes · View notes
tan1shere · 2 months ago
Text
Use Me
Billie Eilish x female reader !
Tumblr media
A/n: thanks @iluvapplesxh for inspiring this I hope you ALL enjoy
Summary: billies stressed, she needs to let off steam and you're the perfect stress reliever.
Warnings: smut, mirror sex, missionary - i think that's about it !!
Masterlist
Night time was the time to wind down, whether it was a simple or stressful day you adored getting into bed and just scrolling on your phone. When the door opens, your head looks up at Billie. "Hi baby." She grabs her shirt from the back, with one hand and pulls it over her head. You were a little taken aback, ofcourse staring at her tits.
Her hair becoming messy, making you stare. "Rough day?" You say softly. "Yup." She then gets on the bed, getting ontop of you. How could you stop it she looked so good. Her lips crash onto yours with such passion. "Wanna fuck you." She breathes against them. You sigh out. "Please do." Your voice was laced with a whiney need.
And without further warning she was already entering you. Your back arching instinctively at her slow strokes. Her forearms on either side of your upper body, leaning down to kiss your lips. Everything about this was passionate. Your eyes dart up to the mirror that was above you on the ceiling. Getting a perfect view of her tattoo. You moan as she bottoms out completely. "F-fuck!" You breathe, both of you feeling your pussy suck in more of her. Her mind eases, letting out a content sigh.
Face to face with one another, you close your eyes. Feeling embarrassed at her gaze. But her hand makes effort in grabbing your jaw. "Look at me baby, eye contact. Come on." Your heartbeat speeds up, along with her powerful thrusts. Head spinning just as fast. "Bills.." you breathe, looking into those blue eyes. That are seemingly darkening the more she fucks you. You were like her drug, one of the best feelings in the world. Whether that be sexual or not you were her everything. She adored this position so so much. "There you go sweet girl." She smirks a little as your cheeks grow red.
"You're just so cute." That caused you wriggle just a bit, feeling flustered again. Her head dips down going into your neck, kissing. Sucking on that spot that had you moaning into her ear for. Moaning so loudly. It was her favorite sound in the whole world. She's even put it quietly in the back of one of her songs before.
Enough for her ears to pick up on, but silent for listeners, fans. Unless they knew or really listened in on the background. Her thrusts become more forceful. Her back tenses as she keeps her weight up above you. Arm muscles on display. God she looked so good.
Your eyes wander back at the ceiling, her whole silhouette toned, her back muscles. The tattoo. Your hands move over her back watching it in the mirror. Your heart pumps still, just like the fake dick was inside you. "You feel so good baby." She knew exactly how to get you. What words to say, what touches. And this was only bringing you closer. "F-faster please.." Knowing she was holding back just a little. You knew what she was capable of.
"So greedy, hm?" You don't reply, not thinking you needed to, but when she grabs your face again. With more force, you regret not doing so. "You gunna answer me baby girl? Or is my dick distracting you, too deep?" If anything she wasn't deep enough. But you get distracted again. Her fucking back. "Focus mama, what're you so fixated on.."
Her head moves, causing her movements to still in the process. An annoyed whine escaping you. Her eyes look up and at the mirror. "Ah. Now I get it." Her face shifts back right infront of your own. Tilted and taunting. You wriggle yet again.
"You're staring at my tat huh? Cute, cute. Cute." You clench hungrily around her getting closer and closer. She feels it, she feels it all. "Keep eye contact yeah?" You nod, feeling her basically doing a push up above you, moving her lower half faster than she had been, you moan continuously. Trying insanely hard to keep that eye contact. It was approaching quicker. "Bills- Fuck!" You wanted to keep eye contact you really did, but it was so tricky.
Her relentless thrusts making your mind go crazy. Not to mention you so desperately wanted to look at her tattoo again. That beautiful long tatto, that covered her spine.
You loved it, it was so hot. And your eyes did for a split second. Noticing just how toned she was in the new position she was in. All the gym visits paying off, and paying off well. She looked incredible, and the fact she was keeping herself up with no struggle. Was attractive in itself. "Im-"
You begin but moan as she hits the right spot inside you. "Fuckfuckfuck." Her eyes never leave your face, wanting to watch you unfold all over her. "That's a good girl. Keep looking at me, know you can."
And before you know it you cum, all over the sheets and her cock. Her movements not stilling, helping you get to the delicious high and come down from it. She slows down noticing you're getting overstimulated.
Pulling out gently, trying so hard to not hurt you. "Thanks angel. Just what I needed today." You smile tiredly. "You're welcome Bills, anything to help." She caresses your face. Admiring you. "You're beautiful. Let's get some rest yeah?" You nod in reply, cuddling up to one another. Warm, and in such comfort.
592 notes · View notes
amiableness · 4 months ago
Note
not a request per se but something i started thinking about when you said you were bringing back dad!james. i feel bad for Henry’s mom because being a mom at 20 sounds so hard. i’m 20 right now and i can’t imagine taking care of a child. i want her to get a happy ending but i’m also thinking about her running into james and darling with henry, being the family she couldn’t give them. i feel like that would sting, like even if she is content with her life and doesn’t regret her decision to leave it would still hurt that her fears about y/n and james came true after she left. i can’t imagine having a baby with a man who’s been secretly (even subconsciously) in love with another woman. like i hope that henry’s mom can eventually be on good terms with james and y/n and even be apart of henry’s life, even if it isn’t in a parental capacity
also hi elina! hope you’re doing well and taking care of yourself
hugs and kisses- m
Dad!James Potter x Bsf!Reader ☼ 776 words
my darling m! i picked this request next bc i saw it was from you! series masterlist ; main masterlist
“I think we’ve gotten everything.” You mutter to yourself as you review the shopping list, noting the blend of your handwriting and James’s. It’s a small detail, but it still makes your heart skip a beat. Though it’s only been a few months since you and James started dating, the sense of being a family feels natural. It might seem quick to some, but with you and James, it simply feels right.
“We forgot biscuits.” You glance over at Henry, who is gripping your hand tightly and nodding enthusiastically as if what he’s just said is sheer brilliance.
“Did we? I didn’t see that written down.” You hum, peering into the trolley filled with groceries, sorting through the items mentally.
“Daddy probably forgot,” Henry chimes in, sending you a cheeky grin. “He forgets them a lot.”
You laugh softly at Henry’s comment about James, the warmth of his words brightening your mood. “We’ll get them,”you agree, your voice playful. “But only as a treat for your lunches. I can’t believe you start your first year of school next week.” 
There’s a squeak of wheels, and you turn your head, curious about the sound. To your surprise, you’re met with the wide-eyed gaze of a woman about your age, staring at you with a look of disbelief. Your stomach knots as you realize who she is: James’s ex and Henry’s mum.
“Hi.” You say, the word feeling awkward as soon as it leaves your lips. You immediately wish you could take it back, knowing there’s a good chance she might not want to engage with you right now. Her eyes dart between you and Henry, and she seems momentarily at a loss, opening and closing her mouth as if searching for the right thing to say.
“Um, hi.” She finally responds, shifting uncomfortably on her feet. Her gaze is filled with a mix of curiosity and hesitation.
“Mummy, who is that?” Henry asks, tugging insistently at your hand to get your attention. His innocent question hangs in the air as you look down at him, your heart sinking at the uncomfortable tension.
Glancing back up at her, you open your mouth to respond, but the words seem to elude you, leaving you in an awkward silence.
“I’m just an old friend,” She speaks up, sending you a quick glance. “I went to school with your mum and dad.”
Henry looks up at her with wide eyes, absorbing her words. “Oh,” he replies, his curiosity momentarily satisfied.
“How is—” She clears her throat, her eyes briefly filled with a hint of regret as she glances back down at Henry. “How is James?” 
To distract Henry, you hand him your phone, and his face lights up with excitement at the chance of playing a game. You didn’t let him play games on your phone very often.
“He’s good,” You smile softly. “He’s a bit emotional. Henry starts school next week.”
“Oh.” She murmurs, her voice soft and tinged with a note of hesitation. For a moment, you brace yourself, worried she might become upset. But then she continues, her eyes meeting yours with an earnest look. “Listen, I know I have no right to say this anymore, but I want to thank you. For doing what I couldn’t and bringing happiness to both of them.”
She takes a deep breath, her gaze flickering to Henry, who is absorbed in the game on your phone. “It’s obvious you’re doing an amazing job,” she says, her smile carrying a mix of sadness and sincerity. “I don’t even need to see James to know he’s happier than he’s ever been. All he’s ever wanted is you.”
She offers you a soft, understanding smile, and you swallow hard, fighting back tears. “I don’t even know what to say,”you admit, your voice trembling slightly.
“You don’t have to say anything,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “I know James and I didn’t part on the best terms, and I said things I shouldn’t have. But I want you to know that I’m truly glad he has you, even though I didn’t feel that way at the time.” She offers a tearful smile, her eyes glistening. “You make a beautiful family.”
You barely manage to choke out a response, wishing her the best, before she turns and walks away down the aisle. Left standing there in shock, you feel Henry’s curious gaze on you. He looks up as he hears your soft sniffle.
“Are you sad, mummy?” He asks, his voice filled with concern.
“No, sweetheart,” you reply, managing a gentle smile. “I’m alright. Let’s go find some biscuits for you.”
please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write! 💌
719 notes · View notes
ohbueckers · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
WHAT’S MY NAME? you got that something that keeps me so off balance. baby, you’re a challenge. let’s explore your talent.
THIS IS PART TWO! part one here. pairing, paige bueckers x tutor!oc. notes, blah blah blah place name proper name backstory stuff. warnings, sexual content & interruptions.
“—and she literally asked me what my name was. you heard that? and was dead serious, too.”
the team—well, most of the team burst out into a fit of laughter, their voices echoing through the locker room. it was game day—the same game paige had invited liana to. the same game the blonde paid for liana to go to. they’d only talked about a handful the past few days, the two of them shamefully finding excuses to text each other. the last thing they’d talked about was the game, the blonde confirming everything. in her own words, the girl needed a good ol’ uconn women’s basketball experience.
“man, what’s the point of being famous if people don’t even know who you are?” ice snickered, shaking her head as she pulled her jersey over her head. nika leaned back against her locker, her laugh coming out in short, breathy bursts as she tried to catch her breath.
paige let a small smirk tug at the corners of her lips, trying to play it cool. but deep down, it was bothering her more than she wanted to admit. she was paige bueckers. everyone knew her name. and yet here was this girl, this ridiculously pretty girl, who had managed to make her feel like just another student. that wasn’t supposed to happen, but it felt good in a way.
she pushed the thought away as the team continued to poke fun, turning her attention to her shoes, making sure they were laced up tight. they would be playing maryland, and although paige thought it would be an easy dub, she hoped liana wouldn’t be in viewpoint. she wouldn’t be able to focus that way.
“yo, paige.” kk’s voice cut through the laughter, her tone a bit more serious. paige glanced up, catching the way kk hesitated before she spoke again. “i don’t know if this matters to you or whatever, but… i think liana might be seeing someone.”
the words hung in the air for a moment, and paige’s grin faltered just slightly. she raised an eyebrow, waiting for kk to continue.
“like, there’s this girl me and aubrey saw her on campus with the other day. and she’s been checking her phone a lot when i’m around,” kk added, her voice low as if she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. but paige caught the implication, her attention immediately shifting to aubrey.
she turned to her teammate, her eyes narrowing just a bit. “you saw her too?”
aubrey looked up, hesitating for a moment before nodding. “yeah, i saw them together a couple of times. seemed like more than just friends, you know?” she tried to put it into perspective for her, but paige didn’t even look like she was listening.
for a second, paige let the thought sink in. another girl, huh? she didn’t know why, but it almost made her smirk. this wasn’t some random guy she could brush off. it was another girl—competition, maybe, but also an opportunity. it didn’t shake her confidence; it only made her more certain of what she wanted.
“bro. i don’t give a fuck about none of that.” her voice was a slight mumble. her tone easy, dismissive. she didn’t care who liana was seeing. if anything, the idea of a challenge made this more fun. “she can have my cake and eat it, too.”
more laughs, because paige truly is just ridiculous. then nika, ever the one to call out paige’s chaos, jumped in. “okay, messy boots. do you even have time for a girlfriend right now?”
“who said anything about a girlfriend?”
azzi raised an eyebrow from her seat, studying her best friend’s face. she couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but something told her that this girl, liana, was consuming her thoughts way more than a regular amount.
paige adjusted her jersey, her mind already shifting back to the game. she needed to focus. there’d be time to deal with liana later. for now, it was all about basketball.
fortunately, the team lucked out and the game against maryland went down exactly as paige had expected—an easy dub, with the final score settling at 80 to 48. she wiped the sweat off her brow as the final buzzer sounded, her grin widening as the cheers of the crowd washed over her.
after the game, paige made her way to the sidelines where a cluster of fans waited, eager for autographs and pictures. she always made time for this part. it was grounding, in a way, reminding her why she did this in the first place. plus, it was fun. she smiled as she signed a few basketballs, shoes, and chatting easily with her supporters. she even spotted a little girl in a uconn jersey who blushed so hard she could barely speak when paige hugged her. she loved these moments. they made the grind worth it.
“paige, you did amazing today!” one fan gushed, shoving a poster her way.
the chatter almost always overlapped. “appreciate it,” paige replied, scribbling her signature. she tossed a few jokes, snapped some pictures, and soaked in the attention. but even with the crowd in front of her, her thoughts kept drifting to liana.
luckily, the girl had been out of sight during the game, so she was mostly out of mind. mostly. paige couldn’t help but wonder where she was—if she’d seen the game or if she’d already left.
as if on cue, paige caught sight of a familiar figure approaching from the edge of the court. her heart did a little flip that she wasn’t ready to acknowledge, so she focused on finishing up an autograph, trying to play it cool. but as liana got closer, paige found herself fumbling with the sharpie, her fingers betraying her nerves. she cursed under her breath, quickly adjusting her grip and finishing it off.
finally turning to liana, she shot her the biggest smile, her hands playing with the cap. liana’s eyes swept over her, taking in the sight of paige in her jersey, her arms still tense from the game and too buff to stay cordial. the girl’s breath hitched, and there was a moment where paige swore she saw something in her gaze—something like admiration, maybe more. it made paige stand a little taller, a little more ego-fulfilled because of what she’d picked up on.
“well, look who decided to show up,” paige teased, twirling the sharpie between her fingers as if she hadn’t just fumbled it a second ago. “you come to support your student, huh? very admirable of you, teach.”
liana smiled, her eyes still lingering on paige’s arms purposefully before meeting her gaze. “gotta support my students, right? especially the ones who are a little… extra credit.”
paige chuckled, not being able to contain her shit-eating grin as she rocked back and forth on her feet. she tipped her head back, maintaining eye contact the way she always did. “extra credit? i’ll take that as a compliment.” paige patted her chest, more specifically, her heart.
“ you should,” liana shot back, her voice light, eyebrows raised and teeth showing in a way that made paige’s chest tighten. it almost felt too good.
for a moment, paige forgot about the crowd around her. it was just liana and her, standing there in the aftermath of a game that didn’t seem nearly as important as this moment. she peeped how liana’s gaze lingered on her jersey, her arms, and even the construction of her face.
“so, listen,” paige started, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. liana stepped closer, moving out of the way so someone could get past them. she couldn’t help but feel a little bit exposed under paige’s eyes, but she liked it. not only was she taller, but she looked down at her like she was prey. liana wondered if she looked at everyone like this while talking to them. “a few of us are heading to ted’s after this. you should come.”
liana hesitated, just like before, but paige could tell she was considering it as she stuttered. “i don’t know…”
paige didn’t let her finish. “bring her.”
liana’s eyebrows shot up, clearly taken aback. “what?”
“the girl you be with,” paige said, her voice steady and accent heavy. “she can come. jus’ want you there.”
liana’s expression softened. paige bueckers had been asking about her. if not that, someone had obviously known she’d cared enough to report back. liana continued to look at her, a mix of surprise and something else that paige couldn’t quite pin down. but whatever it was, it made her feel like she was winning. and paige liked to win.
“alright,” liana finally said, her lips curving into a small smile. “maybe i’ll stop by.”
“good,” paige replied, her grin returning full force. “i’ll see you there, then.”
ted’s was buzzing by the time paige and the team settled in. the usual crowd filled the bar—uconn students, locals. the team had claimed their spot, laughter spilling from their table as they recapped the game and teased each other over everything from missed shots to the post-game interviews. paige was in the middle of telling a story, spinning it out with her usual charm, but her eyes kept darting to the entrance. she was waiting, though she’d never admit it.
it had been about 30 minutes when she saw liana walk in. but she wasn’t alone. a girl followed close behind her, as expected, and paige took her time sizing her up, sucking in a breath.
naomi had brown dreadlocks that hung just past her shoulders, neat and well-kept. she wore a black tee that clung to her frame, paired with simple jeans and boots that looked worn in but sturdy. her presence was different from liana’s, who had changed into a mini skirt and a crop top—more solid, less playful. it made paige’s fingers itch to push at that calmness, to see what it would take to crack it.
as liana and naomi approached the table, paige kept her expression neutral, leaning back in her seat, arms crossed like she was just another teammate hanging out. no big deal. but anyone who knew her knew that she was anything but unbothered right now.
“hey, guys,” liana greeted, her voice warm as always as kk pulled her into an informal side hug, the rest of the team welcoming her normally, some a little more hyper with liquid courage. naomi stood beside her, offering a polite nod to the group.
paige took in the scene, her eyes flicking between the two. landing on liana, she let out a, “hey,” her tone casual. “nice to meet you.” that one was for naomi, paige’s head jerking up in an acknowledgment nod.
“same,” naomi replied, her voice smooth and even, her gaze briefly scanning paige before settling elsewhere.
introductions were quick, and soon enough, naomi found herself caught up in a conversation with aubrey about some mutual interest that paige couldn’t care less about. she watched as aubrey expertly engaged the girl, pulling her into the group with ease. aubrey had always been good at that. it was all too convenient, really, how aubrey was handling the distraction, and paige didn’t miss the cheeky smile aubrey sent her over naomi’s shoulder. it was a silent you’re welcome that paige shook her head at.
with naomi’s attention diverted, paige turned fully toward liana. the energy between them shifted slightly, becoming more charged now that there wasn’t anyone watching too closely. paige leaned in just a bit, enough to close the gap. “drinks?” the blonde suggested, chuckling at liana’s immediate nod as she slid in next to her, dragging the menu in front of her.
“you not a usual?” paige asked, eyebrows furrowing as she looked over her shoulder and at the menu. there was a sense of curiosity beneath her casual tone, a question of why someone like liana wasn’t a regular in a place like ted’s.
“nah, i don’t go out often,” liana replied. she picked up the menu, perfectly manicured fingers following under the words and scanning it like she was genuinely considering her options, but paige could tell her mind was elsewhere.
paige made the connection easily—it explained why she hadn’t seen liana around before. she leaned back slightly, taking a moment to study her profile. something she’d grown accustomed to. “makes sense,” she said, her voice more thoughtful now. “probably why i haven’t seen you around.”
liana nodded, still looking at the menu. “yeah, i’m usually busy with work. tutoring and stuff.”
paige’s curiosity peaked, and she turned her gaze and body more fully on liana. “so, how do you know naomi?” she asked, her tone carefully casual, though the question held more weight than she let on.
liana hesitated for a moment, then shrugged, her expression slipping into something a little more guarded. “we met through mutual friends. it’s… nothing serious,” she added quickly, her voice firm, as if she needed to make that point clear.
“right,” paige replied, her eyes lingering on liana, catching that hint of uncertainty beneath her words. was she lying? why’d she feel the need to?
liana met her blue hues, her lips curving into a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “right,” she echoed, though there was a slight tremor in her voice. they both knew what she was trying to convince herself of, and it wasn’t quite working.
a couple more drinks in, liana and paige had loosened up a mile. they talked about where they were from, life on campus, their experiences obviously extremely different, and the blonde had even gotten around to asking her about her tattoo. the one behind her ear. it was some intricate thing her mom used to draw before she passed—right before her first year.
somehow, the deep conversation topics hadn’t made anything awkward or less easy to talk about. it was too easy. and in all honesty, quite scary.
“you looked really good on the court tonight,” liana admitted, her voice softer, more personal as she let her eyes roam over paige. definitely liquid courage, but there was denying they’d had the same amount, and there was no mistaking the interest behind those words, the way her gaze lingered a little too long on paige’s arms, her legs.
“liana!” paige groaned, sitting back in her chair as a sheepish smile took over her face. it was the kind of grin that she tried to hide but couldn’t quite manage, not when liana was looking at her like that.
“what?” she responded, her tone innocent enough and high-pitched through a giggle, though her curls bounced with each turn of her head, making it clear she knew exactly what she was doing.
“you can’t say stuff like that,” paige muttered, though her grin only widened, betraying her words. she leaned in, elbows resting on the table, her eyes locked on liana’s like a challenge.
“why not?” liana shot back, leaning against her elbow, her voice dropping into a teasing whisper. somehow, her eyes looked more doe under the dimly lit bar, more seducing you could say. “you don’t like compliments?”
paige’s eyes narrowed, but there was no malice behind it—just the spark of a challenge she was more than willing to take on. “i like them just fine. but coming from you…”
she arched an eyebrow. “what about me?”
paige chuckled, shaking her head slightly. “you know exactly what i’m talking ‘bout.” she didn’t back down despite being ultimately defeated by liana’s boldness tonight. she could get used to it.
liana’s smile softened, the teasing edge still there, but there was something more genuine beneath it. “maybe i do,” she admitted quietly. she turned away, paige licking her lips as she studied the way her lips wrapped around her straw, and—yeah, that was it.
paige reached out, her fingers brushing against liana’s as she pulled her out of her seat, not bothering with excuses anymore. the need to be alone with her, to be away from naomi and her glances every couple minutes, was too strong to ignore. and it’s not like paige hadn’t thought about doing this since the moment she laid eyes on her, so…
liana was on her in an instant, pressing paige’s back against the single bathroom wall. her hands were everywhere—fingers threading into paige’s braids, tugging just enough to make her groan into her mouth. paige’s hands found liana’s hips before strolling down to her ass, lost in the sloppiness of the kiss and everything it brought—like another heartbeat. paige’s grip tightened on her thighs, pulling her closer, up into her arms and onto the sink.
liana was perched on the edge of the sink, legs pressed against the porcelain. it was a cold contrast, but the least of her worries. the kiss grew more desperate, more consuming, until paige pulled back slightly, her breath ragged, her eyes practically aching.
“you want this?” paige asked, her voice low, fingers already moving underneath liana’s skirt, seeking and teasing at the same time.
but just as her hand slipped higher, liana’s fingers wrapped around her wrist, stopping her. “it’s wrong,” liana whined slightly, as if it was hard to physically not do this. her eyes searched paige’s, trying to find a reason to stop, but it was clear she was struggling.
paige’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, her breath still coming in short, sharp bursts. “she your girlfriend?”
liana shook her head, the motion almost frantic, her curls bouncing with the movement. “no,” she whispered, the word barely audible above the pounding of their hearts.
the blonde’s lips curved into a slow smile. “then there’s no home to wreck,” she murmured. the moment those words left her mouth, it was like their thoughts snapped back into place, sharper and more urgent than before.
liana didn’t protest again. instead, she pulled paige closer by the collar of her shirt, the movement making her gasp, tongue poking the inside of her cheek with a smirk. paige’s hand found its way back under liana’s skirt, fingers grazing over the fabric of her underwear, teasing her.. make her squirm.
“look at you,” paige taunted, watching liana’s reactions. she slid her fingers back and forth, deliberately avoiding where liana wanted her most. “so wet already…“
her breathing picked up, hands gripping the edge of the sink as she tried to ground herself, her body betraying her, though. “paige, please…” she whispered, the desperation clear as day.
paige’s reaction was more than just one of satisfaction. just earlier this week she’d been asking what her name was, and now she was moaning it. her fingers finally slipped beneath the soaked fabric, finding her heat. she traced the outline of her folds, slow and deliberate, making liana whimper with every touch. her face stayed pressed into the blonde’s shoulder, the smell of some expensive cologne and fresh laundry filling her nostrils. she wanted every part of her.
paige didn’t make her wait any longer. she slipped one finger inside, feeling the tight warmth as liana clenched around her. she added her middle finger, her movements slow and deep, making sure she felt every inch. “so tight for me… say that shit again.”
liana took a moment to process what exactly she wanted her to say, her mind not even on the right planet. catching on, she moaned out a soft, “paige…” and she groaned. she started to thrust, her fingers moving and stopping at the base where her silver rings were. they curled up at one point in a come hither motion, the sensation causing liana to screw her eyes shut, mouth open pornographically wide.
liana moaned loudly, her back arching as paige’s pace quickened, the sound of their bodies filling the small bathroom. her thumb found her clit, rubbing tight circles that had liana gasping, her nails digging into her shoulders. “yes… right there… don’t—mm.. stop,” liana panted, her voice breaking with every thrust.
paige’s fingers worked relentlessly inside of her, her pace quickening as she felt liana tighten around her. she leaned in closer, her breath warm, and whispered in her ear, “i’m fuckin’ splitting you open, baby. you feel that?“
liana could only moan in response, her body shaking as paige’s thumb circled her clit with perfect precision, eliciting a different sound between each movement. she was right there, so close to coming, her mind completely lost in the moment. but just as she felt herself tipping over the edge, a sharp knock echoed through the bathroom door. “liana? you in there?” naomi’s voice cut through to the both of them, pulling liana back to reality with a harsh jolt. if that wasn’t a slap in the face, she didn’t know what was.
“fuck,” she mumbled, frustration clear in her tone as she clung to paige, trying to keep herself grounded in the moment, even as her mind screamed for her to get a grip.
paige’s own frustration mirrored liana’s, looking back at the door. she pulled her hand back with a quickness, watching liana struggle to catch her breath, deciding to help her down from the sink. she steadied her as if nothing had just happened between them, proceeding to follow up with a few lingering kisses on liana’s lips. intimate, sure—but blondie couldn’t resist.
“imma’ text you, alright?” her words were casual, but the look in her eyes wasn’t.
liana nodded, trying to get her thoughts in order, but she was still reeling from how quickly paige could shift from intense to gentle. it was throwing her off balance, and she didn’t like that. how does she do that? how does she make me want her even more everytime she says something? she knew she needed to get out of there before naomi started asking questions, but the entire situation didn’t feel real. they’d have some unfinished business to take care of by fate.
at the door, liana couldn’t help but fake a pout, a small attempt to regain some control, even if it was just a tease. but then paige stuck her fingers in her mouth mindlessly, licking them clean with wide eyes. liana’s mind went blank for a second, her first instinct being a gasp, heat flooding to her cheeks in a swarm as she swatted at paige’s arm. “you’re so—” she started, but paige’s low giggle cut her off, dodging the hits. god, she’s infuriating. infuriatingly cute.
“go on,” paige urged with that damn smirk, and liana knew she was right. she needed to walk out first, leave paige to follow behind like nothing had happened.
with one last look, liana stepped out of the bathroom, her heart pounding. as the door closed behind her, she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.. not look suspicious.
naomi was waiting just outside, looking at liana with a questioning expression. “you good?”
she forced a smile, nodding quickly. “yeah, just… needed a minute.”
533 notes · View notes
buck-star · 6 months ago
Text
Dirty little secret | Ari Levinson
Tumblr media
// Pairing // Professor!Ari Levinson x Student!Fem!Reader
// Summary // You share a dirty little secret with your professor.
// Wordcount // 4.001 Words
// Warnings // Explicit content // 18+, Minors DNI, smut, age gap (reader over 18, Ari mid 40’s), professor x student, mean!Ari, dom!Ari, possessive!Ari, dub-con, sub!Reader, use of dildo, rough sex, dacryphilia, semi public sex, daddy kink, begging, degrading, dirty talk, praises, finger sucking, gagging, oral (male!receiving), deep throating, cum eating, squirting, spitting, aftercare
// Request // congratulations on 2k followers 🥰 could I request teachers pet + ari levinson pls xx ☺️😘
// Authors Note // Thank you! The request was a fun combination and hope you like it. Thank you to @bucks-babe for proofreading and all your encouragement and love.
// Events // Slasher summer writing challenge | Dacryphilia / You're not gonna leave me here, are you? | @witchywithwhiskey
// Masterlist | Ari Levinson Masterlist //
Tumblr media
Blue eyes are staring at you, making you shift in your seat. You never thought these steel blue eyes could make you feel so safe and uncomfortable at the same time.
Ari Levinson, your professor. Every girl, even some boys adore him, have a crush on him or try to get closer to him. But little do they know that the man has only eyes for one person — one student, you.
“Stay after class,” he mumbles next to you, his hands touching yours and you shiver lightly.
His body is so close to yours, his broad chest bent down and pressed into your shoulder, while he acts like he is explaining something to you.
“O—Oke, sir!” You say quietly, your voice shaking and you try to continue writing without trembling hands.
With a grunt he straightens himself, pushing his broad body off the table and makes his way to the front of the class.
The girls behind you are already mumbling about Ari’s and your interaction. They often do that, especially when Ari’s so close to you, or when he asks you to stay after class. If they knew what the two of you were doing, they wouldn’t try to get close to Ari or wonder about his body underneath his tight clothes. But that’s something only you know— your dirty little secret. One you share with your professor.
You ignore the girls behind you, trying to focus on the lesson while Ari walks up and down in front of the room, explaining something to everyone.
Tumblr media
After class you slowly put your stuff into your bag, waiting for everyone — except you and Ari — to leave the room. One of the girls who is actually sitting behind you with her friends, wearing those really short dresses and a lot of make-up and having the perfect body — walks to the front of the room, toward Ari.
You roll your eyes, when she throws her hair back, smirking at Ari while she places her hands on the counter, bending over slightly. But instead of looking at her ass or at her exposed tits Ari looks at you, talking to her.
“I have an appointment now, so make it short,” he grumbles. Waiting for her to answer. She doesn’t say anything, a pout forms on her lips, and she pushes herself up. With a smooth movement she pushes her dress over her legs, hiding her panties before she takes her bag and follows her friends out of the room.
Ari sighs, shaking his head and walking around his table. He leans with his back against the hard surface, arms crossed in front of his muscular chest, his blue eyes on you, while you make your way toward him.
“Close the door, babygirl,” he says, nodding toward the door. And damn, he wants to bend you over the table and pound into you until you’re cock drunk.
Your wide eyes, so innocent and sweet when you look up at him before you walk to the door to close it. He loves — adores your submission. And it doesn’t take much for to you give in to him and do whatever he wants you to do.
“Good girl,” Ari groans when you do as you’re told. You close the door and lock it, turning around to face your professor who stands with a big grin still at his desk. “Come here, get on your knees.”
“B—“ you interrupt yourself when you see his raised eyebrow. He told you that he is going to ruin you and you obviously had other thoughts about it then he does. “Arriiiii.”
“Stop the pathetic whining, and get on your fucking knees, now. Won’t repeat myself, princess,” he says, his voice rough and you whimper quietly.
You look up at him, pouting softly. Ari lifts his hand, grasping your chin and titling your head up, his eyes staring into yours. He then leans closer, his breath hitting your lips but just before his soft plump lips brush over yours he moves his mouth toward your ear.
“You’re nothing but a little, pathetic whore today, huh? Can’t even listen when your professor says something, should punish you for that shit,” he groans, his eyes darken when he lifts his head to stare into your eyes once again.
“D—daddy, please. ‘m sorry,” you whine, completely in your subby headspace now. Exactly where Ari wants you, all submissive and willing. His mean, degrading words turn you on but causing you also to slip into your subspace.
“Good girl, there she is. My good fucking whore,” he chuckles, his thumb running over your cheek to your lips. He presses his rough digit against your lips. You part then slowly, giving Ari the opportunity to push his digit into your mouth.
You twirl your tongue around his finger, whimpering around it. Ari fucks your mouth slowly with his thumb until he presses his thick thumb completely into your mouth before he pushes your tongue down until you gag.
Tears build up in the corner of your eyes, you try to cough around his digit but with his thumb it’s almost not possible and you feel the tears falling down your cheeks.
Ari smirks down at you, crying with just one of his digits in your mouth — not even his cock yet. He loves the way you gag around his thick shaft. Your widen eyes watering, tears rolling down your cheeks and you look always so fucked out that Ari feels his cock twitch when he just thinks about you on your knees in front of him.
“Do you want my cock, whore?” Ari asks, smirking while you wiggle the whole time. You nod as much as possible with his thumb between your lips. “Then take off your panties, gonna punish you while I use your slutty fucking mouth to my liking.”
You whimper, sucking his cock wasn’t enough apologies for disobeying him. “Daddy, please. I’m sorry, please. I’m good for you, daddy.”
“I know you will, but we can’t let your disobedience slip,” he says, kissing the tip of your nose. More tears well up in your eyes, when you shake your head, grasping Ari’s arms to hold him in place.
“D—“
“Shut up, and don’t make your punishment worse, babygirl,” he sighs, pushing you away softly to make his way back around his table to get something out of his bag.
You follow his movements with your eyes, watching him looking through some things in his bag before he holds a box in his hands. You still haven’t done what he asked for, just staring at him.
“Babygirl, you’re so fucking disobient today. Take off your fucking panties or I’m gonna rip them apart,” he threats, his voice low and his steps are slow but dangerous when he walks back toward you.
You whimper, taking off your panties to place them in Ari’s hand. He grins at you, putting the thin fabric in his pocket before he holds the box in front of you.
“Open it,” Ari says, smirking when you bring your shaking hands to the box in his hands. You then grip it, opening it. A gasp leaves your lips, your eyes widen, your heat shoots up and you look at Ari with wide eyes.
“That’s— It’s so thick,” you say, rubbing your thighs together. Your pussy is already dripping and with the huge dildo in the box in front of you — even more anticipation builds up inside of you.
“It’s my cock just as dildo, babygirl. And that’s your punishment, you will take my cock — or at least the silicone version of my cock — without preparation while I will ruin your slutty mouth,” he says, chuckling when you shake your head.
Ari’s cock is huge, the dildo just as much as his cock. You never had Ari’s cock without preparation, knowing it would be too big to take just like that. And now he wants you to do it, he wants to ruin your pussy. You would think it’s a joke but Ari never jokes when it comes to sex, especially not when it comes to a punishment.
“Daddy, it’s too huge,” you whine, blinking at him all innocently. But he shakes his head, you disobeyed him, he is going to punish you.
“So take it out, put it in and get on your knees,” he says. Even though you’re deep in your subspace a little part of you stops you from doing as you’re told and your teacher sighs.
He places the box on the table, turning back to you and he grasps your hips harshly. Aris muscles flex and you adore them for a moment before you land with your back into the hard surface. You hiss, it’s cold and hard but Ari doesn’t care, he’s tired of your attitude and when you don’t do as you’re told, he will do it for you.
“Color?” His voice is cold, his eyes dark and his fingers dig almost painfully into the skin of your hips.
“G—Green, daddy. Bu—But please with pre—“
“Shut up, keep your fucking mouth close unless it’s a moan that leaves those pretty lips. Fucking whore, place your feet on the surface and keep your legs spread.” Ari isn’t soft with you anymore, taking off your shoes before you place them on the table, your legs spread apart and Ari has the perfect view at your glistening folds.
Ari grasps the dildo, bringing the tip to your wet folds and rubs it up and down. He presses the toy against your clit, making you gasp and moan loudly. Your hands grasp the edges of the table and you grip it tightly, trying to steady yourself. He hasn’t even pushed the dildo into your tight pussy but the way he rubs your clit is so intense, that you feel like you’ll come immediately.
“Daddy, please, please, please, please,” you whine, wiggling when he brings the toy to your entrance. You earn a harsh slap against your thigh, gasping loudly.
“Shut your mouth, whore. I’m gonna fill it for you in a bit but first the toy,” Ari groans, his fingers digging into your thigh, while he presses them apart.
He lines the toy up with your tight entrance, pushing slowly into your tight cunt. He is slow and careful, waiting a moment before he pushes the dildo deeper into your pussy.
It really feels like Ari’s cock, you never took him without preparing but it’s not as bad as you thought. The slight pain in your pussy turns into pleasure the more he pushes the silicone dick into you.
“Good girl, look at your greedy little pussy. Taking the cock so well, yeah, good fucking girl,” Ari praises, his hand on your thigh stroking your skin while he smirks at you. Your walls are squeezing the toy tightly, sucking it deeper into you.
He fills you completely with the toy. Your soft moans and whimpers encourage him to thrust it in and out of you.
You’re arching your back, eyes almost shut while he uses the toy inside of you as he pleases. Thrusting the toy slower or faster, sometimes softer or harsher into your pussy.
With another harsh thrust into your tight pussy, your mouth drops open. Ari just hit your sweet spot with the top of the silicone cock. He leaves the toy completely inside of you, smirking when you wiggle your ass and try to get some friction.
“Stay still, slut. You’re so fucking needy,” Ari laughs, taking a step backwards while he admires you. He watches you bringing your hands to your pussy, grasping the base of the toy to move it but Ari slaps your hands away. “Don’t touch you without permission, fucking whore. Lemme admire your little pussy splitting on that fucking cock.”
“Daddy, please, can I please touch it?” You beg, but he shakes his head and takes out his phone. He taps some things before looking back at you.
“Smile for me, babygirl. Gonna keep that pretty scene here and add it to my collection,” he says, taking some pictures of you spread out on the table, dildo spilling your pussy and your already fucked out look. “Look at you, so perfect. Looking like the good little slut you are for me, princess.”
Ari puts his phone away, then he grasps you by your neck and lifts you off the table with almost no effort. He can manhandle you like he wants and he uses that.
He placed you with your feet on the ground, his hands holding you by your waist. Ari uses his strength to push you down on your knees, smirking when you whine because of the dildo being pushed into you again.
“Think you can escape my pretty silicone cock? Keep it deep inside of you, while I’m gonna fuck your mouth as I please,” he grumbles, his hands undoing his pants and pushing them down.
You’re lucky that almost no one will be in the building anymore, most of the students and teachers are already on their way home, so you can be as loud as you want to be.
While Ari undoes his belt and takes off his pants, you move yourself up and down with the toy rubbing against your sweet spot whenever you sink into it completely.
“That’s what you like, huh? Can’t even wait until I fuck you, no, you have to fuck yourself on daddy’s toy because your greedy little pussy can’t be without it,” Ari mocks, grasping your chin to make you look up at him. “Open up, whore.”
You do as you’re told, parting your lips before you stick your tongue out. Ari chuckles, then he spits into your mouth, his saliva slowly flowing down your throat before he does the same thing again.
His dick is painfully pressing against his boxer briefs and he knows how much you love to look at him taking his cock out or just the outline of his fat cock. But Ari loves your whimpers and quiet moans while you fuck yourself with the toy and have to swallow his saliva.
“Color, babygirl, are you alright?” He asks, his thumb stroking your cheek.
“Green, daddy. Please, want your cock.” He would usually laugh about your begging and whining but he has waited too long today and can’t hold himself back anymore. He needs you, needs you tight, warm mouth around his cock, needs you gagging around his huge length while he uses your mouth like it’s a toy.
He smiles at you, letting go of your chin and lets your head fall forward until you stare directly at his covered cock. His hard length is visible through the thin fabric, a wet spot already forming where his tip is.
You lick your lips, your walls clenching around the toy while Ari groans and pushes his boxer briefs down as well. His cock springs free, slapping against his tight shirt — the one that he wears to make you go crazy. You can see his high defined muscular chest, his abs and you’re not the only one who can see it.
He grasps the base of his cock, stroking himself a few times in his big hand. Aris cock looks huge in his hand already, but in yours? It looks like a monster cock.
You immediately open your mouth, leaning your head back, while you fuck yourself in a steady rhythm with the dildo. It hits all the right places just like Ari always does. You’re moaning and panting but still begging for his cock.
Ari brings the leaking, red tip of his cock to your lips. He smears the pre-cum all over them. Your tongue darts out, circling it and sliding over his slit to take all of his pre-cum.
You take more of his cock into your mouth, liking along the underside of his veiny cock. He groans loudly, throwing his head back and his hands grasp the side of your head to push you further down on his thick cock.
“Fuck, take it, slut. Take your daddy’s fucking cock,” he groans, thrusting his hips harshly forward. With that movement he hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag around his length but he doesn’t care, enjoying the feeling of you gagging around his length too much.
Tears build up in the corner of your eyes, slowly falling down your cheeks. You try to breath through your nose, try to stop the gagging but he only pushes further.
Ari knows that you will tap his thigh when he’s too rough, and you know that he would stop immediately would you do so. He wouldn’t ask what’s wrong, he wouldn’t push you any further, he would only ask if you need a moment or if you want to stop. And he would be fine with either of these answers, turning from the mean dom into your soft boyfriend who takes good care of you.
But as long as you don’t tap his thigh he doesn’t see a reason to stop himself from using you as he pleases.
“Fuck yes, take it you fucking whore. See what you’re doing to me? Sitting there all innocent in your fucking dress, nothing but a pair of panties underneath,” he pants, pulling out of your mouth before he trusts back into your mouth and slides his cock down your throat.
It only needs a few moments for you to get used to him. Your hands grasping his thick, muscular thighs to steady yourself while he fucks into you with a steady yet harsh pace.
“Fucking slut, do you want one of these silly little boys to fuck you? Huh? Want to make me fucking jealous? You’re mine, you belong to me,” Ari groans, his possessiveness growing with every thrust into your small, warm mouth.
Tears and saliva flow down your cheeks, your nose brushing his pubic hair whenever he pushes into you, and you bring yourself close to the edge with the toy that’s still in your pussy. Your walls clench, your arousal pooling about you and you moan around his length.
“Say it! Say you’re mine!” Ari demands, wanting to hear that from you before he lets you come or allows himself to come. He doesn’t care that his cock is buried deep down your throat or that you’re not even able to moan probably. “Fucking say it, whore!”
“Mmmm mmmmmm,” you try to say but it’s more just humming. Ari laughs darkly, he places one of his hands in your hair, grasping them hard before he pushes your head back.
“Mine! It’s not that hard to say you’re mine, can’t be that dumb, whore,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief. You’re staring at him in your saliva covered cock. His low chuckle makes you look up and into his dark eyes. “You’re that fucking cock drunk? Fucked everything out of you and wasn’t even inside your greedy little cunt.”
“I— Daddy,” you whine, moving faster on the thick silicone cock. Your orgasm so close, you can feel the knot in your stomach growing, already to snap but he stops you in your movements.
Aris hand that isn’t nestled in your hair, finds it place to your shoulder and pushes you down. “Say. It. Fucking. Say. You’re. Mine. I can’t stand your attitude today, the way your short little skirt is slipping up when you bend over, just like those whores wear. Lucky I love you, so I don’t ignore your little attempt at getting my attention, slut.”
“Daddy, please, yours. I’m all yours, but please, let me come, please, please,” you whine, more tears falling down your cheeks and Ari feels his cock getting even harder, twitching before he pushes himself back into your mouth.
“Come, fucking come, right now,” he groans, your nose pressed to his lower stomach.
With another movement and the toy hitting your sweet spot once again you come around it, squirting all over it and on the floor. Your breath is heavy, especially with Ari’s cock still down your throat.
He holds you in place, making you swallow his thick length while you come. Your eyes widen when you notice him twitching, his balls heavy and flat against your chin and he doesn’t look like he will move.
You slowly fuck yourself through your orgasm, walls gripping the toy and you moan around his shaft. You then bring your hand to his balls, knowing that he is going to come immediately when you massage them. And that’s exactly what you’re doing, kneading his large balls, rolling them in your smaller palm.
Ari groans, his hips stuttering and he shoots his come down your throat, making you take it all. “Fuck, so good. Mouth feels so fucking good, babygirl. Keep going, there is so much cum for you, yeah, like that. My pretty little whore.”
After coming down from his high, he pulls out of your mouth, dropping immediately to his knees to wipe the tears that still fall down your cheeks away. He then lifts you by your hips and pulls the toy out of you, placing it next to you on the ground. A hiss leaves your lips about the sudden emptiness into your pussy.
“Good girl, such a good girl for me. You took the toy so good, and sucked my cock like the precious, sweet girl I love so much,” Ari mumbles, wrapping his arms around your waist to lift you up.
He gets off the ground, placing you on the table and settles himself in between your legs. Your arms are immediately wrapped around his neck and you pull him as close as possible.
“Shh, you did so well for me,” he shushes you before you can even think about something you want to say. Aris muscular arms and the steady rhythm of his heart calms you down, bringing you back into reality after your intense orgasm. “There she is, look at you, babygirl. Daddy’s proud of you.”
You smile softly, giggling when he traces his fingers over the fabric of your dress. You press your face into his chest, inhaling his sweet, musky scent.
“We are having our dinner date night tonight, are you ready for it?” Ari asks, having already everything planned but you shake your head. “But I have already planned everything for the dinner.”
He pouts and you press your lips against his soft ones, humming when he grasps you by your neck and pulls you even closer.
Then he moves a few inches away, his blue eyes glistening and you admire the little green sparkle inside of them.
“I love you but I don’t want to go out today, please?” You ask with your best puppy eyes. Usually Ari would give in to them. “Not in a mood for dinner night today, you fucked me too rough for that.
“Then I have to go on our date all alone?” Ari chuckles softly, then he kisses the tip of your nose.
“You’re not gonna leave me here, are you?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at your boyfriend while he shrugs. He wouldn’t dare to go on that date alone, would he?
“I love you too and you know that I won’t leave you all alone, sweetheart. But dinner night not even when it’s a movie night I have planned? Just you and me, all the food you love, every movie you want to see and a lot of cuddles and kisses?”
“To that kind of dinner night I won’t say no. Just the two of us with food and cuddles!” Your eyes immediately light up, a wide smirk appears in your lips and Ari knows that’s exactly what you need today — him and a lot of cuddles after such a session. And you will get exactly that, with a lot more praises of how proud he is, how much he loves you and how good you are for him, daddy’s good girl.
Tumblr media
// Taglist // @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @pono-pura-vida @somnorvos @meowmeowyoongles @bookishtheaterlover7 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @elyse-harper81 @loki-laufeyson68 @bxtchboy69@capsbestgirl77 @princesscore-angel @mrs-katelyn-barnes @blackhawkfanatic @fanfictionreaderfan @looking1016 @winterschildren8 @jeremyrennermakesmesmile
649 notes · View notes
scarlethexelove · 5 months ago
Text
Shapeshifting
Tumblr media
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader
Word Count: 1844
Warnings: Reader is overstimulated, Reader can shapeshift into animals, Comfort, Small talk of Hydra and experiments, Fluff, Comfort, Mutual pining, Making out, Naked Reader, Just all around cute
A/n: I had seen a photo yesterday that inspired me to write this and I just had it. On days that Reader feels overwhelmed they shift into a cat as a form of coping. Reader looks for comfort from Wanda, turns into confessing feelings.
NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN
Today is just one of those days. You wake up already feeling overwhelmed, the world is too loud, your clothes feel itchy. It’s all too much for you to handle today. So you do what you always do on these days. You strip down before you transform, your clothes not exactly being able to shrink down with you. Though Tony has made you a suit that forms to whatever form you take it isn’t ideal for you to wear at home and if you're already feeling overstimulated it won’t make it any better. But your body slowly morphed into one of your favorite forms, the one that gives you the most comfort, a small black cat. 
You wouldn’t normally thank Hydra for all that they put you through but on days like today it’s nice to have a form of escape. Being a cat is both a comfort to you and the rest of the team. The team quickly learned that this was your escape, you can still mildly communicate with them but you don’t have to actually fully communicate if you don’t want to. Tony has made it to where even FRIDAY knows certain cues from you that will automatically open and close doors for you. You’re always thankful for the understanding and support you get from the team. 
 You scratch lightly at your door signaling for FRIDAY to open it for you. As the door swings open you scurry out your tail lightly flicking back and forth. You make your way down the hall searching for the one person who gives you the most comfort. Searching all over the compound for Wanda but you can’t find her anywhere. You even went as far as looking in the meeting room. With your head slightly lowered in defeat you head back towards the common area hoping that maybe she just went to the store or something and will be right back. 
Clicking on a keyboard alerts you to the fact that someone is already in the common area. Sitting on the couch you can make out the form of your best friend. Natasha sits there slightly hunched as she types fiercely on her keyboard, more than likely working on reports. She’s another person that you feel comfortable with. Having been the one to save you from Hydra’s clutches years before. Finding something that once was broken and helped put you back together. In the process becoming a trusted friend and sister. 
“Hey Y/n/n.” Nat chuckles as you headbut her leg. “Feeling out of it today?” She questions you. You meow at her as you jump up on the couch next to her, nudging and rubbing your head against her hand. She opens her hand and you nudge the top of your head against her palm. She smiles as she begins to lightly scratch your head with her nails. It brings you comfort and a sort of peace at the form of affection. You curl up next to Nat in a little ball as she continues to scratch your head and pet you, content on working with her other hand. 
Time passes as you drift in and out of sleep. You stretch your legs out as you wake from your little nap, before moving your head and placing it on Nat’s leg looking up at her computer. On the screen you spot Wanda’s name. Maybe Nat knows where she is and why you couldn’t find her. You would have expected to wake up if she had come home. You quickly spring up to Nat’s surprise and swat at her hand to keep her from clicking off the screen. “Hey!” You ignore her as you climb on her lap and get closer to the screen, making sure that you don’t make contact with any of the keys. “Y/n/n what are you doing?” She questions you curiously. You get close enough to where your nose almost touches the screen. You use your nose as a way to point out Wanda’s name on the page. She tries to push you away but you just swat at her again. 
Nat doesn’t get what you are doing at first as you continue to nudge lightly at Wanda’s name. But as she realizes that you are trying to point something out to her she peers around your body and reads the spot on the screen. “Wanda?” She questions to make sure she knows what you want. You do a chirp as a confirmation, turning around and sitting staring at her. “Wanda got a last minute mission this morning.” Nat tells you. Disappointment fills you as your ears and tail fall. 
It hurts Nat to see how disappointed you are with the fact that Wanda wasn’t around. Everyone knew that you two liked each other, well other you two. Both of you blind to the others' stolen looks and longing expressions. So to see you craving Wanda’s affection on a hard day and her not being there breaks her heart. You so quickly deflate at the realization. 
You jump off Nat’s lap and slowly make your way back towards your room. Nat doesn’t call after you, she doesn’t quite know what to tell you. She just hopes that Wanda returns soon. The disappointment weighs you down as you reach your door, scratching at it lightly. FRIDAY opens the door, once inside closing the door behind you. Jumping up on the bed settling in on the decision to take a nap. Curling into a ball on the end of the bed settling in before drifting off to sleep. 
A light knock on the door pulls you from your sleep. Your head raises as you listen patiently for who might be at the door. You hear a click as the door creaks open. Wanda’s head pops through her eyes searching for you before spotting you on the bed. She fully opens the door and makes her way in. You jump off the bed letting out an excited chirp. You stretch out before getting to Wanda rubbing up against her legs back and forth. “Hi sweetheart.” She bends down scratching at your head causing you to nuzzle into her hand. She smiles at the gesture. “I heard you were having a rough day and wanted to check on you.” Wanda gives you a soft smile. You meow as you bump your head against her hand. 
You stand on your hind legs stretching out and lightly pawing at Wanda’s knees, requesting for her to pick you up. She smiles at you reaching out and lifting you into her arms. She makes her way over to the bed with you as you nuzzle more into her hold. She knows exactly what you need as she lays down on your bed having you beside her. You stretch out next to her as she scratches your head keeping you close to her chest. 
Everything starts to melt away. You finally have what you have been searching for today. Wanda can feel as you relax more, the tension melting away. You begin to purr, a soft sound that few get to hear. Wanda is your comfort. The two of you have grown close after she joined the Avengers, bonding over the fact that both of you were experiments for Hydra. She knows your torcher and your terrible past and you know hers. Helping her as she joined the team after the loss of her home and brother. You became the person she seeks out in a time of need and comfort. Neither of you realize that you both want more, but too scared to ruin what you already have. Love and understanding of the other. 
As you relax you don’t notice how your body shifts back. Now eye to eye with Wanda. The soft and gentle moment leading you to do something you never expected. Leaning in and joining your lips with hers. Wanda wastes no time returning the action, turning the kiss slow and sentinel. Basking in the feeling of now. Wanda’s hand on your hip as you snake yours up and cup her cheek. It’s all you could have ever hoped for and more. 
The need for air becomes apparent as your lungs begin to burn. You pull back just enough, leaning your forehead against Wanda’s. Both of you lightly panting as your breaths mingle in the air between you. “That was…” Wanda pauses. “Wow.” You finish. Neither of you have ever felt a connection like this with another person. “I love you Wanda and not just as a friend, something more.” You mumble terrified of your own feelings but feeling like there is no other time than now to confess. Wanda blushes at your words. “I love you too Y/n/n. I’ve loved you from the moment I met you.” The surreal feeling of mutual love makes your heart swell. 
Wanda’s thumb gently rubs against your waist as you calm down a bit. But slowly the realization washes over you. Something neither of you had focused on until now. “Oh fuck! I’m sorry.” Your naked body pressed against her clothed one. You quickly jump out of bed trying your best to cover yourself. Wanda stifles a laugh as you run into your closet. You're exiting the closet in no time now with clothes on. Wanda speaks up when she sees you exiting. “You know you have a really cute butt detka.” Wanda smirks, heat rising to your face and you look down in embarrassment. 
“Come here detka.” You look back up and see Wanda reaching out for you. You make your way back over to the bed and before you know it Wanda is pulling you into her body. She wraps her arms tightly around you. You nuzzle your face in her chest, her hands gently scratching up and down your back. The calmness returns to the room as your embarrassment washes away. The room is filled with silence as you listen to Wanda’s heart beating. 
“Feeling better?” Wanda asks, breaking the silence in the room. “Mhmm.” You hum. After a beat of silence you pull back a little looking up at Wanda. “What does this mean now?” Your voice is small. Though you both confessed you don’t know where it goes from here. Wanda gives you a reassuring smile. “We can take this however slow you want to. I love you and just want you to be happy.” A blush dusts your cheeks. “I-I want you to be my girlfriend.” You lightly stutter. Wanda smiles and kisses all over your face causing you to giggle. “I would love nothing more.” 
You settle back in and nuzzle back into Wanda’s chest. Her nails are still gently scratching at your back. Who would have thought that a day that starts off so overwhelming would finally lead you to confessing your love for Wanda. Becoming one of the happiest days of your life. You’re now with the love of your life and will forever be able to find comfort and support in her arms. 
651 notes · View notes