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zapreportsblog · 1 year ago

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Could I request a. Poly volturi/ f reader where Marcus finds out she’s is their mate. She met them on one of the tourist guide and he found her told aro and caius that she is their mate. They talk to her and she’s shy . She sorta want to be with them but her only experience of a relationship was really abusive in the past which made her insecure and feeling unworthy of love . She runs away from them. Eventually the found out why she ran and her confession leaves them 🥺

My love I will need the name of who hurt you.

Cree volturi kings : we just want to talk with him …

Wow this is sad asf, I like this

↱ your ours ↰

➘ summary : what started out as a simple tour turnt into something more

The grand halls of the Volturi castle echoed with the hushed voices of tourists, their footsteps reverberating against the ancient stone floors. Among them was (y/n), a young woman who had always been fascinated by history and the mysteries of the castle. She had embarked on this tour with a keen sense of excitement, eager to explore the secrets that lay within the castle's walls.

As the tour guide spoke animatedly about the history of the paintings on the wall, (y/n) found herself hanging on to every word. She craned her neck to catch glimpses of the intricate tapestries that adorned the walls and the opulent décor that spoke of centuries of power and influence. The stories of the powerful kings and wars that rained over their world centuries ago had captured her imagination, filling her mind with visions of intrigue and romance and death.

Amid the crowd, a figure caught her attention – a man who exuded an air of timeless elegance and authority. His dark hair cascaded down his back, and his crimson eyes seemed to hold secrets that spanned centuries. It was Marcus, one of the three Volturi kings, passing by with a measured grace that demanded respect.

(y/n)'s heart raced inexplicably as their eyes met for a brief moment. It was as if an invisible thread connected them, a bond that defied explanation. She felt a pull towards him, an inexplicable curiosity that left her breathless. And in that fleeting instant, she could swear she saw a glimmer of intrigue in Marcus's eyes – a recognition that mirrored her own.

Interrupting the tour guide's narration, Marcus raised his hand, his voice carrying through the hall with a quiet authority. "Hold, please."

The tour guide faltered, clearly taken aback by the interruption. Marcus's gaze remained fixed on (y/n), his lips curving into a slight smile that held an air of mystery.

"Forgive me, but there is something quite intriguing about this young woman here." Marcus's voice was smooth, his words enigmatic as he addressed the bewildered tour guide. "I would like to extend an invitation to her – if she would be interested – to explore a different part of the castle with me."

The hushed murmurs of the tourists filled the air as (y/n) felt a mix of shock and bewilderment. She had not anticipated this turn of events, and yet, an inexplicable sense of destiny tingled in her veins.

The tour guide stammered for a moment before nodding, a mixture of awe and apprehension in their eyes. "Of course, sir. If the young lady is willing, I can continue the tour with the others."

Marcus stepped closer to (y/n), his gaze unwavering. "What say you, my dear? Would you be interested in exploring a different facet of this castles history?"

Her heart pounded as a swirl of emotions coursed through her. The enchanting allure of Marcus, the mystery that seemed to shroud him – it was a chance she couldn't pass up. Gathering her courage, she nodded, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest. "I would be honored."

With a graceful nod, Marcus turned away from the tour group and gestured for (y/n) to follow. She did so, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and trepidation. As they walked, the grand halls seemed to come alive with an energy that was both electrifying and surreal.

They reached a massive wooden door adorned with intricate carvings, and Marcus opened it with a flourish. "Welcome to our library."

The sight that greeted (y/n) took her breath away. Shelves upon shelves of ancient tomes and manuscripts stretched into the distance, illuminated by the soft glow of candles. It was a sanctuary of knowledge, a repository of secrets that spanned centuries.

Marcus watched her reaction with a faint smile. "I thought this might pique your interest."

As (y/n) stepped further into the library, her heart swelled with a sense of wonder. She felt a connection – not just to the history contained within these walls, but to the enigmatic king - not that she knew who or what he was, who had opened this door for her.

As (y/n) continued to explore the library, each step seemed to take her deeper into a realm of enchantment and mystery. The scent of aged parchment mingled with the warm glow of candlelight, creating an atmosphere that felt almost otherworldly.

Unbeknownst to her, word had been swiftly passed down the ranks by Marcus, who had sensed the unique connection she shared with him. Intrigued by her presence, Aro and Caius had decided to pay them an unexpected visit. Their arrival was as silent as shadows, and (y/n) only became aware of their presence when she heard the faintest rustling of fabric.

She turned, her eyes widening as she saw the imposing figures of Aro and Caius standing before her. Aro's eyes glittered with curiosity, and Caius's expression held a blend of scrutiny and aloofness.

Marcus stepped forward with a graceful nod, introducing (y/n) to the other two kings. "May I present Aro and Caius, two friends of mine.”

(y/n) dipped into a respectful curtsy, her heart racing as she met the gaze of these legendary figures. "Pleased to meet you.”

Aro's smile was almost hypnotic, his crimson eyes dancing with a mix of amusement and intrigue. "Greetings, my dear. I can’t help but see you’ve been glancing at a book about the history of vampires, tell me, do you believe in vampires?"

The question hung in the air, laden with both a challenge and a promise. (y/n)'s mind raced, grappling with the incredible situation she found herself in. Her logical nature clashed with the fantastical notion of vampires, yet standing before the embodiment of that very myth, she couldn't help but wonder.

"I believe in the unexplainable," she began, her voice steady and thoughtful. "There are countless mysteries in the world, phenomena that defy scientific explanation. So, while my rational mind might question the existence of vampires, my curiosity tells me that there are realms beyond our understanding."

Aro's grin widened, his interest clearly piqued. "Ah, a mind open to possibilities. That is a delightful trait."

Caius's silence spoke volumes, his eyes never leaving (y/n) as he observed her with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

Marcus stepped closer, his presence reassuring as he addressed Aro and Caius. "Our guest is a thinker, one who embraces the complexity of reality. Her perspective is as refreshing as a cool breeze on a warm night."

The conversation flowed on, weaving through the tapestry of history, myth, and human nature. (y/n) found herself engaged in an intellectual dance with the kings of legend, her thoughts and insights laid bare before them. With every exchange, the lines between the fantastical and the tangible blurred further, leaving her with a sense that reality was far more nuanced than she had ever imagined.

As the night rolled on, the library became a haven for shared ideas, an unexpected meeting of minds that transcended the supernatural. In the presence of Aro, Caius, and Marcus, (y/n) discovered that even the most extraordinary tales could be grounded in the richness of human thought. And in that moment, her beliefs were stretched beyond their limits, opening her heart to the infinite possibilities that lay beyond the realm of the ordinary.

‘So this is our mate hmm,’ thought aro and caius.

The conversation flowed like a river of ideas, weaving together the threads of history, myth, and the human experience. As the night deepened, Aro, Caius, and Marcus shared stories of their long lives, tales that seemed both fantastical and strangely plausible in the context of their surroundings.

(y/n)'s mind raced as she navigated this surreal interaction. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of curiosity, apprehension, and a growing sense of connection. She marveled at the way Aro's eyes sparkled with the excitement of discovery and the way Caius's stern expression softened whenever a topic stirred his interest.

Finally, as the clock ticked towards the early hours of morning, Aro leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixated on (y/n). "My dear, your insights have been nothing short of remarkable. Your presence has brought a fresh perspective to our discussions."

Caius, usually reserved, nodded in agreement, his voice carrying a rare hint of admiration. "Indeed. Your willingness to engage with our history and your open-mindedness are qualities we find intriguing."

Marcus's gentle smile added to the atmosphere, his eyes softening as they met (y/n)'s. "We have an offer, if you would consider it. We would be honored if you chose to stay here for a time, to learn more about our castle, its history, and the stories that have shaped our world."

The weight of their words settled upon (y/n) like a spell, and for a moment, her heart seemed to pause. To stay within the very heart of the Volturi castle, to immerse herself in the history she had always yearned to uncover – it was a dream she had never dared to entertain.

Flustered, she struggled to find her words. "I... I'm incredibly humbled by your offer. This is all so unexpected, and yet... it's an opportunity that I can't help but feel drawn to."

Aro's smile widened, his eyes shining with a mix of satisfaction and delight. "We would be delighted to have you, my dear."

Caius's nod was a rare sign of approval, his gaze lingering on (y/n) for a moment longer before he turned his attention to Marcus.

Marcus stepped forward, his presence both reassuring and inviting. "Consider this your sanctuary, a place where knowledge and curiosity intertwine. You'll have access to our library and the stories it holds."

Overwhelmed by a mixture of excitement and apprehension, (y/n) offered a genuine smile. "Thank you, all of you, for this incredible opportunity. I'll gladly accept."

Aro's chuckle was a melody of amusement, his fingers tenting beneath his chin as he regarded her. "Excellent. We shall arrange everything for your stay, my dear. Welcome to our castle."

As the kings made their exit, leaving (y/n) alone in the library, she could hardly believe the turn her life had taken. The castle, with its centuries of history and the enigmatic Volturi kings, was now her new reality.

Weeks turned into months, and (y/n)'s life within the Volturi castle was a whirlwind of discovery and intrigue. The stories she had yearned to uncover became her reality, and the library became her haven. Yet, as time passed, she began to notice subtle oddities – fleeting movements, eyes that glinted in the moonlight, and moments of uncanny insight.

Her curiosity piqued, (y/n) embarked on her own investigation, her explorations leading her to the kings themselves. One evening, she found herself in a dimly lit corridor, face-to-face with Aro, who had seemingly appeared out of thin air.

"(y/n)," Aro's voice was smooth, his eyes studying her with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

She took a deep breath, her heart pounding. "Aro, there's something I've been meaning to ask you. Something... unusual."

Aro's smile held a hint of mystery. "And what might that be, my dear?"

"I've noticed... peculiar things," she began carefully, her gaze unwavering. "Things that don't quite fit within the realm of normalcy. I've seen movements that defy human capabilities and glimpses of knowledge that seem impossible to possess."

Aro's expression remained enigmatic, but his smile grew. "Observant, as always. (y/n), you are correct. There are aspects of our nature that are beyond the ordinary."

Her heart raced as realization dawned. "You mean... you're vampires."

Caius appeared beside Aro, his presence as imposing as ever. "Sharp instincts."

Marcus joined them, his gentle smile a reassuring contrast to Caius's intensity. "We are creatures of the night, (y/n). Our longevity, our abilities – they set us apart from humanity."

(y/n)'s mind whirled, a storm of emotions crashing over her. She had suspected as much, yet hearing it confirmed by the very beings she had come to know felt surreal.

"I... I don't know what to say," she admitted, her voice a mixture of awe and uncertainty.

Aro's hand extended towards her, his gesture both inviting and comforting. "We understand that this revelation is a lot to take in."

Caius's gaze softened, his voice holding a rare tenderness. "We are bound by our nature, and yet, we have come to value your presence in our world."

Tears welled in (y/n)'s eyes as she faced the kings she had grown to respect and admire. "It's a lot to process, but I trust you."

Marcus stepped forward, his touch gentle as he brushed a tear from her cheek. "And that's all we could hope for."

Aro's eyes locked onto (y/n)'s, his gaze filled with an intensity that made her heart race. "There is one more truth, my dear."

(y/n) listened, her senses on high alert as Aro's words hung in the air.

"We have kept another secret from you, one that we can no longer conceal," Aro confessed, his voice laced with a mixture of reverence and longing.

Caius's gaze held a hint of vulnerability. "You are our mate, (y/n). Bound to us by a connection that transcends time."

Emotions swirled within (y/n) – disbelief, astonishment, and a growing sense of warmth. She met the eyes of each king, her voice a mixture of acceptance and emotion. "I may not have expected any of this, but I trust in the bonds that have formed between us."

In that moment, the weight of their revelations settled upon her heart. The kings, with all their mystery and power, had bared their souls before her, revealing the complexities of their existence. And as she stood among them, (y/n) realized that her journey had led her to an unprecedented crossroads – a choice between embracing the extraordinary and retreating into the safety of the familiar.

Shyness wrapped itself around (y/n) like a protective shield as she absorbed the weight of the revelation – that she was their mate. The intensity of the kings' feelings was both exhilarating and overwhelming, and the newfound connection she shared with them tugged at her heart in ways she struggled to comprehend.

Her past relationship had left her with deep scars, wounds that had yet to fully heal. The memories of abuse and manipulation had instilled in her a sense of insecurity and unworthiness, making the idea of accepting the affection of the Volturi kings a daunting prospect.

As she stood before Aro, Caius, and Marcus, her gaze shifted between them, her voice barely a whisper as she expressed her thoughts. "I... I appreciate your honesty and your feelings, but I can't help feeling... uncertain. My past... it's left me feeling... afraid to trust again."

Aro's eyes held compassion, a gentleness that seemed to penetrate her insecurities. "We understand, my dear. The wounds of the past are not easily forgotten."

Caius's voice held a rare tenderness, his words carrying a weight of sincerity. "Your pain is valid, (y/n). But we wish to show you that love can be kind and nurturing."

Marcus stepped closer, his presence a source of comfort. "We are not like those who have hurt you before. Our connection is built on understanding and mutual respect."

Tears welled in (y/n)'s eyes, a mixture of vulnerability and longing washing over her. She looked up at them, her voice tremulous yet determined. "I want to believe you. I want to let myself feel this connection. But I need time... time to heal and learn to trust again."

Aro's gaze never wavered, his smile patient and reassuring. "Time, my dear, is a gift we are willing to give."

Caius's expression softened, a rare glimpse of vulnerability crossing his features. "You deserve to be cherished, (y/n), not because you're our mate, but because you're you."

Marcus's hand reached out to gently brush against her cheek, his touch tender and comforting. "We will be here, by your side, as you navigate this journey."

The vulnerability she felt was mirrored in their words and expressions, a testament to the depth of their feelings. As she looked at these powerful, immortal beings, she saw beyond their regal façades to the genuine care they held for her. It was a chance to heal, to rewrite the narrative of her own life, and to embrace love in a way she had never thought possible.

Tears spilled down (y/n)'s cheeks as she nodded, a fragile smile forming. "Thank you... for understanding, for being patient."

Aro's smile was warm, his voice carrying a promise. "We're here whenever you're ready, (y/n)."

In that moment, amidst the echoes of their shared emotions, (y/n) felt a glimmer of hope. It was the first step on a path of healing and growth, a journey toward embracing the love she had once thought was out of reach.

As the days turned into weeks, (y/n) found herself immersed in the embrace of the Volturi kings' affections. Their gestures of care, the way they listened to her, and the tenderness they offered often left her breathless. It was a love unlike anything she had ever experienced, and although she yearned for it, the intensity of their feelings sometimes left her feeling overwhelmed.

One evening, the weight of their love became too much to bear, and (y/n) felt a wave of panic grip her heart. She longed for the familiarity of solitude, a moment to catch her breath and sort through her emotions. Without warning, she fled from the castle, her footsteps carrying her away from the very beings who had come to mean so much to her.

The wind whipped around her as she found herself standing on the cliffs overlooking the sea, her thoughts tumultuous as waves crashing against the rocks below. Doubt clawed at her heart, and the echoes of her past wounds resurfaced, reminding her of her own unworthiness.

Days turned into weeks as the kings searched for her, their concern evident in their tireless efforts. And finally, one evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, they found her perched on the same cliffs where she had sought solace.

Aro's voice was gentle, his eyes filled with understanding as he spoke. "We've been worried about you, (y/n)."

Caius's expression was a mixture of relief and concern, his gaze never leaving her. "You left so suddenly. We need to know if you're alright."

Marcus stepped forward, his presence calming as he regarded her with a soft smile. "Please, (y/n), tell us what's been troubling you."

Tears welled in (y/n)'s eyes, her voice fragile as she tried to put her feelings into words. "I... I'm not used to this kind of love. It's overwhelming, and I feel like I'm drowning in it."

Aro's voice held a mix of understanding and reassurance. "Our emotions can be intense, but we never intended for you to feel suffocated. (y/n), we care deeply for you, and our love is meant to support and uplift you."

Caius's expression softened, his voice carrying a note of tenderness. "We would never want you to feel trapped, my dear. Your well-being is paramount to us."

Tears streamed down (y/n)'s cheeks as she confessed her deepest fears. "My past... it's left me feeling undeserving of love, like I don't know how to accept it. I ran because I was scared... scared that I would end up hurt again."

Silence hung heavy in the air as the kings absorbed her words, their expressions a mixture of empathy and realization. Finally, Aro stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch her arm.

"Your pain is valid, (y/n). We never meant to trigger those feelings," Aro's voice was gentle, his eyes holding a mixture of sorrow and regret.

Caius's voice held a promise. "We want to understand, to learn what love means to you and to show you that it can be different."

Marcus's smile was warm, his voice carrying a sense of hope. "We're willing to take this journey with you, to redefine what love can be."

As the kings surrounded her, (y/n) felt a glimmer of hope. In their words and actions, she saw a willingness to learn, to grow, and to meet her where she was. The road ahead might be filled with challenges, but as they stood there on the cliffs, (y/n) realized that she was not alone. Together, they would navigate the complexities of love, rewriting the narrative of her past and embracing a future filled with possibilities.

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misshoneyimhome · 3 months ago

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Your ex didn’t know what he expected to see when he barged into your office, but it definitely wasn’t you on William's lap doing things he never thought you would ever partake in. He didn’t even have words to process the sight he saw in front of him.

You were so incredibly needy, William's cock stretched your leaking hole as he whispered dirty words in your ear. His large hands gripped your waist, and he smiled at the thought, facial hair tickling your neck as you threw your head back against his broad shoulder. “Such a desperate little thing for my cock, huh?” His voice rough as you had barely walked through the front door before he had your black dress up as you were begging to be fucked.

The door slamming open made his blue eyes look up, an instant look of gratification on his face as he saw your ex standing there in shock. You were so cock drunk too, that you couldn't do couldn't but sit there and continue to take it up your fluttering cunt. William let out a small laugh, staring your ex right in the face as he continued to thrust upward. He was sick for doing this, but then again really gave zero fucks. He wanted this to happen, to finally show that miserable bastard how to treat and pleasure his woman. Your ex's face coex'sted with a mixture of rage, disbelief, and humiliation, his fists clenching at his sides. His eyes darted wildly between you and William, unable to fully comprehend the scene unfolding before him. A little smutty idea for your new series.

Oh, you know how much I adore these naughty ideas in my inbox! 🥴🤤 Though I wasn’t entirely sure how I wanted to approach this, I decided on a simple blurb. I think it might be perfect for iInexperienced!reader x Willy; you know, my favourite naughty series 😉

I’m not sure it’d quite fit with any of the other series, but I’m absolutely loving it! 😍 Sorry, but not proof-read...

Warnings: 18+ smut - unprotected sex (p in v) in a semi-public setting (office), sort of Voyeurism?

Word count: 1.4K

➼｡ﾟ

Your ex-boyfriend’s sudden appearance was a complete shock. Although he had been trying to reach out to you for weeks, his calls and messages went unanswered as you chose to ignore him. And his bold move to show up at your office was clearly one he quickly regretted.

You couldn’t help but wonder if William’s visit was a coincidence. Maybe he had seen your ex’s messages or sensed the tension and decided to drop by to offer some unexpected support. Whatever the reason, his presence turned out to be one of the most intense moments you had shared together.

The office was its usual calm self—modern, with sleek glass walls, minimalist décor, and the gentle hum of downtown Toronto in the background. The polished surfaces and tidy furniture were designed to promote focus and productivity. But today, as you walked through the door, that serene atmosphere was abruptly disrupted.

To your surprise, leaning casually against your desk was your boyfriend, William Nylander. Dressed in a hoodie over a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, his blond hair slightly tousled, and that trademark smile on his lips—a smile that always made your heart race—he radiated relaxed confidence. His presence starkly contrasted with the office’s sterile professionalism. Even after a year and a half together, he still had the power to make the world seem to fade away whenever he was near.

“Surprise,” he said, his voice low and rich, with a hint of amusement that made your pulse quicken.

A rush of warmth spread through you. “Willy, what are you doing here?” you asked, your smile widening as you closed the door behind you. His unexpected arrival was a welcome distraction, and he had a knack for appearing right when you needed him most, even if you didn’t realise it.

“I missed you,” he replied casually, pushing himself off the desk and closing the space between you with a few easy strides. The office seemed to dissolve as his hands found your waist, pulling you closer with a playful glint in his blue eyes. He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your lips. “Thought I’d surprise you.”

You laughed softly, feeling your heart race with anticipation. “Well, consider me surprised.”

The desk, the reports, and the hum of office noise outside seemed to vanish as the reality of what was about to happen set in. “Maybe I should help you relax a bit,” he teased, his voice dropping lower as he leaned in closer. The air thickened with anticipation, and the casual flirtation between you took on a more charged, electric energy. The room felt suddenly smaller and more intimate, the professional distance you had maintained dissolving rapidly.

William wasn’t just here to chat, and you both knew it. You enjoyed the tension, the way it buzzed just below the surface, waiting for the moment it would break.

You hesitated, glancing at the tinted glass partition that separated your office from the hallway. The thought of being caught in such a public space added a thrilling edge to the moment, making it all the more irresistible. Your office, though small and professional, had never felt so dangerously exciting.

Before you could say anything more, William’s lips were on yours, urgent and possessive. His hands tightened around your waist, lifting you effortlessly and making you gasp against his kiss, the sudden intensity making your head spin. In one smooth motion, he hoisted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist; his strength was undeniable, sending a shiver down your spine as his body pressed against yours.

With a few long strides, he moved you both behind your desk, and you found yourself sitting on his lap as he settled into your chair. The naughtiness of the situation felt almost cinematic, like something out of a provocative film. The thrill of it all made you dizzy with excitement as he guided you to face the door, your hands braced on the desk. The contrast between the office’s professional ambiance and the intimate act taking place was electrifying.

William’s hands moved deftly under your dress, pushing it up to your waist before he guided your knickers aside. You felt exposed and vulnerable, yet aroused. The office, with its neat rows of filing cabinets and cold, professional décor, now served as a stark backdrop to the raw intensity between you.

William’s hands gripped your hips as he guided you onto his lap, his cock pressing against your core with a delicious pressure that made you moan softly. The way he filled you, stretching you, was almost too much, and yet not enough at the same time. His hips bucked up against you, his thrusts slow but deep, sending waves of pleasure through your body as you began to move with him.

“Such a desperate little thing for my cock, aren’t you?” William growled low in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. His words sent a shiver down your spine, making your already frayed nerves tingle with excitement. His voice, rough and teasing, only added to the growing fire inside you.

Feeling your arousal quickly building, you couldn’t help but gasp, throwing your head back against his broad shoulder as the heat between your legs intensified with each relentless thrust. His rough voice and the scratch of his stubble against your skin were intoxicating, making everything else blur into insignificance. He had barely let you walk through the door before his hands were all over you, and now you were too far gone to care about anything except the man beneath you.

But then, out of nowhere, the door to your office suddenly slammed open with a jarring crash.

William froze for just a second, his breath catching in his throat as he looked up in shock. Standing in the doorway was your ex-boyfriend, his face a mask of shock and disbelief as he took in the scene before him. For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, the tension thick and suffocating.

But William didn’t stop. In fact, he seemed to relish the interruption. His eyes gleamed with dark satisfaction as he met your ex’s gaze, a wicked smile playing on his lips as he thrust deeper into you, making you gasp in pleasure despite the unexpected audience.

“Enjoying the show?” William quipped, his voice laced with amusement as he continued to move inside you, his hands gripping your waist even tighter. The power dynamics in the room had shifted entirely—William was in control, and your ex was nothing more than a bystander, powerless to stop what was happening.

“Guess this is how a woman’s supposed to be treated, huh?” William’s voice dripped with taunt, his tone both mocking and triumphant.

You were too far gone, intoxicated by the pleasure your boyfriend was giving you, to fully process your ex’s presence. Your moans filled the room, mingling with the sounds of William’s thrusts. His movements were purposeful now, hard and deep, as if he was savouring every moment and showing your ex precisely what he was missing.

The air in the room grew thick with tension and a raw sense of finality. There was no turning back from this. Your ex’s face contorted further, his body frozen in place as he watched William’s dominance. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He simply stood there, his gaze locked on the scene before him, unable to look away.

William’s gaze stayed fixed on your ex, his tone dripping with derision as he continued his relentless pace. “Go on, take a good look. This is what you lost. What you’ll never have again.”

The room was charged with a potent mix of emotions—dominance, humiliation, and raw desire. The climax of the moment felt inevitable, a culmination of all the pent-up tension and unresolved feelings.

And as the intensity reached its peak, you couldn’t hold back any longer. With a final, desperate cry, you came hard around William’s cock, your body trembling with the intensity of your orgasm. And William followed soon after, his hips jerking against yours as he found his own release, his groans of pleasure mingling with yours.

The sounds of your combined breaths and the aftermath of your climaxes filled the room, creating a sharp contrast to the stunned silence that followed. But then your ex, his face a picture of defeat and despair, finally turned and left, the door closing behind him with a heavy, echoing thud.

As the office slowly returned to its usual quiet, professional state, the echoes of what had just happened still lingered in the air. You couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle as the realisation sunk in.

“Did he… did my ex really just walk in on us?”

William nodded, a mischievous grin still on his face. “Yup.”

“Shit.”

You weren’t entirely sure if you felt ashamed or not—probably mostly not. All you felt was a lingering rush of pleasure as you gradually calmed down from the high.

#my asks #queued post #inexperienced!reader x Willy #wn88 imagine #thirst night #18+ smut #william nylander smut #william nylander imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey smut

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melis-writes · 1 year ago

Text

Moth to Flame (Part II) [Michael Corleone x Reader Series, 18+ Smut] Chapter 42 – Matrimony.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 41 / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

“You’re a Corleone woman now, after all." / “You’re my bride. You deserve that and all the more, do you understand?”

You married Michael Corleone in the summer of 1949, binding the allyship of your two families together but sealing your matrimony with love, bliss and trust. Falling in love, compatibility, love languages and a change in your lifestyle met you in an instant, and being Mrs. Michael Corleone altered your life forever. You can still remember how you fell for him and every bit of affection and intimacy shared from the beginning. You remember; you remember it all, and as you look into the past to compare it to your present and expect for your future, you realize nothing remains changed.

[WARNINGS]: Mentions of virginity/loss of virginity, nudity, sexual themes & depictions, heavy touching & kissing, fingering, mentions of pregnancy & planning for children, sex.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: The first in-between chapter of Moth to Flame: Part II is finally here!! 😫🙏🏻 I'm sooo sorry for such a delay in posting this chapter, but life has been extremely hectic and busy. 😭 The Vichael girlies are going to adore this chapter is all I'm going to say! We delve into Victoria and Michael's marriage from the very beginning! 🤭❤️‍🔥 This is filled with romance, fluff and domestic wholesomeness. How Victoria and Michael fell in love to how their lives changed as husband and wife and more is all included. I wanted this to be very romantic and sensual before we dive back into the action of current day Moth to Flame! 😳

1956. Your name is Victoria Ferrari Corleone, and you’re the wife of the most powerful mobster in North America–Michael Corleone. A lifestyle of crime and secrecy is all you've known and ever wanted to know, complimenting the cruelty of Michael Corleone's influence in the United States. With your enemies fallen before you and all loose ends tied up, you continue your life and marriage with the Corleone family while refusing to look back on your past. Yet it's the skeletons in your closet that a shine a light on revealing you're a true mafiosa. Ensnared in the shadows just as much as Michael is, you find yourself betrayed by the unexpected with all of your secrets ready to spill–especially ones you've hidden from Michael. With more than one pair of eyes watching your every move, you find yourself trapped amidst potential scandals and a familiar, lovesick secret admirer adamant on removing Michael out of the picture to have you all to himself. Like a moth to a flame, you've reached the point of no return and the light that breaks down the darkness threatens to take you next.

Bouquets of pink and white roses, white silk, lilac adornments, angel food cake, the lace finishing over your wedding gown, and the taste of Michael’s lips over yours; you married Michael Corleone in the summer of 1949.

Planning for your wedding was one of the few and only times in your life when you felt you had a million things going through your mind at once.

After weeks of careful planning, the hardest part—the wedding itself—came in bliss and resonated perfectly with everything you had in mind for your perfect wedding day.

The colors you chose for your wedding ranged from an equal hint of décor in baby pink, lilac, and beige, whereas peonies, lilacs, and dahlias were your flowers of choice.

Silk tablecloth, handcrafted Italian furniture imported from Sicily, seven-tier angel food cake, seven varieties of cannoli from pistachio to limoncello, over a hundred bottles of wine—Grilo, Inzolia and Grecanico just to name a few—aged at least ten years, French champagne, little pastries of sorbets and mini cheesecakes served throughout and freshly squeezed juice from the fruit from the Corleone garden itself were just some of the highlights of your wedding day.

Even your wedding gown itself had been custom designed and tailored with the finest Italian silks and fabrics, following a lengthy session of perfecting your hair, makeup, and manicure with your mother, Mama Corleone, Connie, and Sandra down to rehearing how you would walk down the aisle to which sets of jewelry with diamonds and pearls suited you best.

Everything was planned and executed to perfection—to say the least. Scarcely were there moments throughout the planning period where the wedding wasn’t mentioned in one way or another; it was the only topic on your mind for days to come.

Consummation of your marriage was expected next from all through tradition and customs, but it wasn’t a concept you and Michael personally believed in.

Although you were a virgin before you met Michael, he most certainly was not. After his brief marriage with Apollonia, the concept of no intimacy until marriage let alone time spent together or some form of physical affection before marriage was seen and strictly enforced as heavily taboo in Sicily only reminded him of how backward he believed the concept to be, as did you.

Of course, you and Michael were both anticipating and thinking about the intimacy you’d share with one another after your wedding celebration, but not immediately after. That would be eagerly waiting for the both of you at the end of the night.

With the wedding cake having been cut, final drinks served and last dances shared, both of your families collected together all of the bridal gifts, thanked and said goodbyes to every guest they could get to while the wedding staff began to clean up.

Michael and you stood for more photographs by and with guests, thanking them for attending as well before you both made off with security to the vehicle that would take you to your first estate.

You’d both arrive at your new estate by the time security did a full sweep and search of the Corleone manor and all festivities had officially come to an end.

Before you and Michael would settle down for the remainder of the day after the wedding, you both went to meet with your families and new in-laws.

Tomorrow morning there’d be the wedding reception to look forward to after all, but there was more than enough for both you and Michael to think about and do before then.

Upon stepping out of your chauffeur’s vehicle at your new estate’s grounds, the first thing your eyes found were those of your bodyguards surrounding your new estate.

Noting the heavy yet inconspicuous security around, it was only a split second longer before you blinked and a warm smile crossed over your lips in reaction to Michael standing by your side; his hand laced with yours as you both began to make your way inside the estate.

Just a few feet from the front door you could already hear the cheerful voices and banter of your parents and in-laws in the foyer; you couldn’t help but feel your exhilarated mood amplify with excitement once more.

“Victoria! Michael! Sweetheart!” Your mother beamed, extending her arms out as she skipped over to the both of you.

Hugged, congratulated a dozen more times, and kissed by your parents and new-in-laws, happy tears are shed once again for you and Michael as a newlywed couple.

“Promettimi che mi chiamerai se ti serve qualcosa!” (Promise me you'll call if you need anything!) Carmela gently squeezed your shoulder after pulling away from a hug, smiling at you.

“Home sweet home,” your mother cooed, bewildered by the grandiose luxury your new estate has to offer just by standing in the foyer alone. “How wonderful.”

“We’re looking forward to that wedding reception,” your father grinned, redirecting his gaze to Michael. “It’ll be an honor to dine in the newlyweds’ home.”

“It’s an honor to host,” Michael agreed, giving a small, quick smile. “I look forward to it, Don Ferrari.”

“Mm,” Vito nodded, approaching both you and Michael. “And the bridal gifts… I had them arranged to be placed in your guest room. Humble gifts as they may be from our family friends, but they’re close to overflowing.”

“A problem I’d actually like to deal with,” you giggled back. “Thank you, father.”

Naturally, the gifts you received from attending friends, family, and guests aren’t exclusive to gifts newlyweds would benefit from, but a wide variety of items ranging from cash bills to jewelry almost as if the givers were trying to appease you and Michael directly.

Without even having to look inside all of the bridal purses and open each individual gift, you already assumed to yourself there are thousands of dollars worth of gifts there alone waiting for you and Michael that may very well take days to completely open.

Your families deliberately didn’t stay for long to give you and Michael as much privacy as possible today, and you and Michael were more than happy to see them out with waves and smiles before settling down for the rest of the day.

“It’s not over for them,” Michael commented by the gates of the estate, loosening his tie.

“No, it isn’t,” you let out a light laugh, smoothening down your wedding gown. “Not until after the wedding reception, at least.”

Michael chuckled—a rare first time he’s in a somewhat lighthearted mood for the entirety of the day. “Do you need anything, darling?”

“No,” you blushed, gesturing down to your dress. “Only to get this lovely gown off of me in one piece and my makeup at last.”

Just a split second later, you both heard a sharp whistle come towards the gates of the estate which prompted you and Michael’s attention immediately.

“Hey, Mikey!” Sonny hollered from the gates, leaning against his car and waving at both of you. “No invitations for Tom, Fredo, and I to see the new place, eh? Come on down!”

“I’ll be right with you,” Michael glanced back at you.

You nodded understandingly, relieved you’ll at least get the time to quickly undress and take off your makeup before finally getting to spend some time alone with Michael, and you’re more than happy to have Michael bond with his brothers before retiring for the rest of the day with you too.

The endless amounts of gifts and stuffed bridal purses crossed your mind once more as you entered the estate, imagining you and Michael would more than likely have to get Tom to secure any precious assets or cash bills while the other items remain secure.

You carefully slipped out of your wedding gown and let the lacy, tulle fabric pool at your feet as you grabbed a white, silk nightgown to step into; careful not to let any of your makeup smear against the fabric.

You’re not one to wear a full face of makeup on any regular day, but outings, special events, and evenings—especially your wedding—remain exceptions each time you enjoyed getting dolled up, but your daily beauty routine only consisted of your normal skincare steps, light eye makeup, a bit of eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick.

Upon Michael’s return inside the estate and to the bedroom to undress and unwind, it was his first time gazing upon your face without any makeup as you cautiously stored your nightgown away in an empty closet.

You hadn’t even noticed Michael’s eyes on you at first but picked up on his presence immediately; right then and there, Michael had found himself admiring your beauty and looks, stunned by your natural appearance.

“More congratulations?” You smiled shyly, turning around to face your new husband.

“Something like that,” Michael answered, tossing his tie onto the edge of the bed. “Nothing we both haven’t heard enough of.”

You held back your laughter, “then I hope you don’t mind I retired my glamor for the night already.”

“Not at all,” a ghost of a smile crossed Michael’s lips as he slowly began to approach you. “I’m sure the bridal gifts have nothing but your name on them, after all. I don’t think I need to go and see for myself.”

“Oh, please,” you felt a blush stinging your cheeks as you gazed up at Michael.

“You look beautiful,” Michael murmured, tilting your chin up to face him. “You know that?”

Your skin gave a healthy glow under the evening light as Michael admired every inch of you from the shape of your cheekbones to the color of your eyes, the curve of your lips, and your body language towards him filled with desire.

You expected then and there for Michael to lean in and kiss you, and he did, but gently upon your forehead as he let his warm lips linger over your skin.

You closed your eyes for a brief moment and embraced your husband, taking in the scent of his heavenly cologne as your heart began to race in your chest against his.

“You should expect all of this, you know,” Michael spoke to you in an ushered voice. “You’re a Corleone woman now, after all. Those gifts want nothing more than to appease and impress you, I’ll make sure of it myself.”

Michael’s intention is to spoil you to no avail and not only with material gifts but your every request; the luxurious lifestyle you can expect to live with him as Michael’s wife and the future mother of his children holds you on a separate pedestal next to being Don Ferarri’s wife, and Michael will continue to keep it that way.

The very gifts with your name engraved upon them awaiting you consisted of everything from cosmetics, luxurious perfumes, oils, and creams, full sets of dazzling jewelry set with diamonds and precious stones, congratulatory letters, towel sets followed by pacifiers, bibs, baby bottles, and cloth diapers that made you blush as you unwrapped them—knowing all would be expecting the news of your first pregnancy next.

An amused look crossed Michael’s eye as he wrapped his arms around you seeing you open the final present for today a set of two pacifiers, he saw a look of excitement over your own expression but also blush spreading over your cheeks as the two of you made eye contact once again, knowing the rest of the night began to the both of you.

The first home you and Michael owned together and settled in was a grand estate in Long Island but outside of the Corleone mall unlike Connie and Carlo’s home and that of Sonny and Sandra’s that were inside the gated family community.

Still, your new home was not far from Michael’s family or yours, and you could make the commute in twenty minutes.

The plot of land in which your new estate would be built was purchased immediately on the day of your engagement ceremony with construction where your father and Vito had given the green light for construction to begin the day of.

Normally for the size of your estate, it would have taken a good construction crew six months with daily work, but the home was completely finished in just one. Bringing in extra of the best workers and paying a premium always worked well in the end.

Your grand estate stood at just slightly over five thousand square feet with state-of-the-art architecture, taking inspiration from Modern American design to Italian fixtures and marble imported from Rome.

Your estate was two stories, finished with an attic consisting of a master bedroom with a walk-in closet designed to be almost the size of a small bedroom for you and Michael, a study that was half a private library, two guest rooms downstairs, a nursery upstairs, a wine room in the basement, full front and back yard, three other extra bedrooms, an office for Michael and four bathrooms.

A mid-sized swimming pool was built in the backyard where your home’s carefully curated and trimmed garden surrounded the sides and fences protected your family’s privacy so one could neither look into the estate grounds nor out of it.

Twenty-four-hour surveillance was always to be expected with varying bodyguards and a careful selection of specific windows—such as the ones in Michael’s office—were selected and built to be soundproof.

Your bathtub had 24k gold claw-finished, quartz countertops as well as in the kitchen, marble floors, a foyer in the front of the estate fit with a French handcrafted chandelier, a private exit to the gardens and plenty of storage with a full laundry room at the end of the hallway downstairs.

Crown fixtures adorned the kitchen and a wide spiral staircase decorated with a blood-red carpet led upstairs to where one of two hidden emergency exits only you and Michael knew how to activate could be found.

The price of your home came to a grand total of $250,000 and was exactly where you and Michael wanted to be; exactly where the two of you planned to start your family and raise your children.

Michael and you had both grown up in Long Island; meaning nothing short of symbolic with the feel of home settling into your first house in New York together.

You and Michael only had a brief discussion about where your first home could be since the two of you came to an agreement so quickly to choose Long Island to stay in.

At the time, thoughts of buying another home elsewhere or even moving in the future were not on your mind although Michael had begun to think of Nevada and a villa in Sicily almost immediately on; the latter being a familiar and mutually agreed upon idea to you.

Of course, both you and Michael’s family knew just as well as the both of you why you didn’t have a honeymoon after your wedding, and there were no questions asked or teasing to be made.

Going on a honeymoon with Michael after your wedding was in your mind just as much as your wedding was, but the same could not be said for Michael who was much too preoccupied with the danger and threat of another family war, especially with hostility coming from the Ricci family.

Going outside of New York—let alone going to Sicily—would paint a clear, red target over both your and Michael’s backs and especially create vulnerability within the Corleone family considering Vito was semi-retired at the time.

It didn’t matter if you and Michael decided to visit Rome, Venice, or anywhere else in Italy just for the sake of visiting home but staying away from Sicily; the mafia families including the Ricci’s still had power stretching there legitimately.

Naturally, both you and Michael yearned to take a true honeymoon trip to Sicily and Sicily only. Even with the rest of the world as a choice to visit, you would have rather continued to postpone your honeymoon until you could safely visit Sicily again without having to worry about anything but how to spend quality time with your husband.

You’d very well have your honeymoon with Michael a little after your first anniversary together, somewhat defeating the purpose of a true honeymoon but with the threat of your lives and your family on the line, it was all very worth it with a legitimate reason to delay.

In Michael’s second marriage now come hell or high water he would never risk a slight chance of you being anywhere where there’s a notion of danger, even if you begged him to.

“Well,” you bit your lip, shrugging your shoulders. “I’m a little disappointed, but I understand.”

“I know, darling,” Michael raised his water glass to his lips, taking a sip. “I feel no different than you do.”

You brushed your fingers against the fabric of the window’s curtains and glanced over to Michael again. “They’ll know, won’t they?”

Michael’s eyes met with yours almost instantly; his expression appeared grim knowing you referred to the Ricci family, but with the Barzinis and Tattaglias to worry about as well.

“As they do,” Michael replied and set his glass down. “Does it bother you?”

“Not exactly,” you shook your head and faced the window—blushing as you felt Michael’s presence approach you from behind. “But it’s been on my mind again and again these past few weeks. I can’t shake it off.”

“And on mine,” Michael lovingly embraced you from behind and lightly pressed his chest against your back. “As much as I would like to degrade them to such, they’re not animal enough to disgrace a wedding, even without an invite.”

“They should know better,” you murmured under your breath.

“And they more than likely do,” Michael nodded and moved his hands down to your hips to tenderly caress them. “None of those men deserve further justifications, but above all, they’re curious about you, and just who you are.”

You placed your hands over Michael’s and gave them a soft squeeze as you remained quiet.

“If it’s about safety—” Michael began.

“I feel safe with you,” you told him as you turned around.

Michael’s eyes locked onto yours as he gave you a small nod; you swore to yourself for a moment that you could see a glimmer of a brief smile over his plush lips.

“I do,” you continued, “always. And as you can guess…” You blushed sheepishly, “I was thinking about our honeymoon too, and we can’t even go.”

“We will soon enough,” Michael rubbed up and down your arms gingerly. “When we are able to and when we can. You know it’s not something I want to put aside to forget or neglect.”

“I know, baby,” you smiled back shyly. “I believe you.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Michael lowered his tone of voice and pressed a warm kiss over your forehead. “I promise I will. None of what our family is going through now will last. I personally guarantee it,” as Michael moved back from the kiss, he tilted your chin up to gaze directly into his eyes. “You’re my bride. You deserve that and all the more, do you understand?”

Blushing furiously and feeling a wave of butterflies rush to the pit of your stomach, you nodded at Michael before leaning up to give his lips a sweet kiss.

“I’ll wait until you say we can go,” you whispered against his lips as you wrapped an arm around Michael’s shoulders.

“Until then,” Michael murmured and closed off the distance between both of your bodies, ensnaring you in a deep kiss once more.

Michael’s changed lifestyle to a mafioso and your continued one as a mafiosa would never change. You both married one another knowing what your lives are and would continue to be, but also remaining unaltered.

You’re a lawyer, after all, and a skilled prosecutor with a name made for herself—reputation and all—in New York. Your career is more than something you see to corrupt and use for your “family business”, but is also a passion; something you want to continue doing until you feel ready to retire.

Michael was always impressed as to how you were able to find a passionate career that also benefited both sides of the family business.

Through being a lawyer, you also bonded well with Tom and had another fellow lawyer as a brother-in-law to bond with.

Regardless of whether you and Michael choose to have one child a fear down the line or four back to back, Michael has no intention of interfering in your career or keeping you from it; the same can be said for any of your other passions and hobbies.

You already know your maternity leave from work and raising an infant will take priority in your life which will result in a break from work, but you’ve accepted it and will make it happen.

Perhaps if you weren’t a mafiosa yourself from a powerful crime family, you would have fit the bill as a mafioso’s housewife better but Michael recognizes your true talents and abilities just as well as you know yourself.

Now married, you attend trials and continue with your cases at most three times a week. After all, you’ve always been careful in choosing which cases to get involved in while maintaining a flexible schedule for yourself.

You built a reputation with your prowess this far without Michael and his family’s influence, which begs the question of what Michael’s lifestyle has become after marrying you.

Michael is always working, even when he’s not. More than ever, Michael spends time with his father and brothers. Even when Michael is alone in his own office, he’s talking over the phone to his men or family and constantly keeping himself preoccupied until he’s with you.

Michael’s unwavering dedication to the family business, his loyalty, and his work ethic don’t bother you. As a matter of fact, it’s everything you expected from Michael and saw coming before you married him.

What you love about Michael’s work with the family business is that he can separate it and he will separate it very well from his personal life.

Michael does not mention anything related to his work when he’s with you regardless of how casual the circumstances or if your own curiosity arises since your family is also almost always involved.

You know then and only in those scenarios would you ask Michael a question if you had one and your family could not answer; you know your boundaries and where the line remains when asking Michael about his work.

To Michael, any mention of what he does and what he is outside of work is nothing but severely unpleasant and he would rather avoid it altogether; something you respect and agree with.

At dinner one evening, you saw Michael’s tension settled within him as he ate—sitting across from you in silence.

Michael sighed quietly and took a sip of his red wine before his eyes met yours; seeing curiosity spark in your expression.

“Ready to settle down, baby?” You asked with a soft smile.

“Something like that,” Michael nodded, continuing to eat his risotto.

“Everything alright with your father?” You asked and rose up from your seat to begin cleaning up.

“He’s fine,” Michael’s answers were dry and to the point on purpose. “We’re working on it.”

“Alright,” you gathered a pile of empty plates, brushing off crumbs upon the tablecloth next to Michael.

Only a split second later did you look back up at Michael and catch his eye—almost feeling embarrassed for asking but you neither see annoyance nor discomfort in Michael’s expression.

You understood Michael didn’t want to talk about this with you and you didn’t push it. You also knew last night he didn’t come home from his father’s estate until 2 AM, and you had no intention of bothering him about it now.

You’ve always had more than enough to do for yourself and for the home regardless of how long Michael worked in or out of the manor.

You’d have your own day to worry about; cleaning up after breakfast, prepping for lunch, tidying up the house, laundry if required, getting any other daily errands done, focusing on a bit of your own work projects, then relaxing with a good book or in front of the television with a glass of wine.

You could step out into the garden for some fresh air, pull weeds, water the lawn, go for a walk or a dip in the pool; you balance your work and life well and you’ve never felt neglected or lost without a sense of purpose.

The compatibility between you and Michael is like none other and the two of you have always recognized this; there is no lack of transparency or intimacy, and there is no elephant in the room blocking the two of you from bonding with one another.

You and Michael could and always will make it work.

When it came down to planning to start a family with each other, having children was brought up immediately between Michael and you; a crucial concept and the second step into a married life with one another.

Of course, the brief conversation that only consisted of asking one another if you wanted children when you and Michael had first met did not count as a real and insightful conversation, it did strike you that Michael was a mature and serious man, ready for fatherhood and expecting to start a family in the very near future.

Michael would not have minded waiting a year or two before having children, but he would personally not wish to delay it any further past that.

To Michael, it was as if he had an urgency of some kind to start a family but there was no reasoning behind it or pressure coming from anyone. Still, you came to appreciate how much Michael anticipated entering parenthood with you, regardless of his reasons.

Perhaps you did sense Michael’s urgency when he first met you and asked if you wanted to have children in the future, but you simply had brushed it off for all that it was—a simple question.

You were twenty-five years old when you met Michael, and you were the second youngest sibling in your family and the only daughter.

With your little brother Dante being fifteen years younger than you, you practically raised him alongside your brothers and because you came from an equally large extended family, you loved children for as long as you could remember.

Just as you and your brothers had grown up, you knew the importance of proper parenting and how love would mold a child’s life forever.

Michael believed children were the products of their parents’ discipline, love, and behavior, saying, “If adults can bring out the worst in each other, they can do the same for children”.

Michael himself was twenty-nine when he met you and neither of you had objections of any kind to starting a family immediately after getting married.

Coming from the families and reputations you both grew up in and had, things such as time and money would simply not be an issue for you and Michael.

It was more of a matter of readiness and active parenting heavily required from both of you equally, not just yours as the mother.

You also knew Michael would be a stricter parent than you, but this did not imply anything harsh or along the lines of cruelty whatsoever.

Michael is not the type of man to ever raise a hand against a child or even raise his voice; calm, and collected, and with thorough explanation comes discipline and understanding. Michael knows how a child’s mind copes and works.

You are most definitely not the kind of parent to yell, threaten, let alone glare at children to have them respect or tolerate your fear let alone beat a child.

Neither Michael nor you ever faced such things growing up, but you both saw your fair share growing up with other children at school and in the neighborhood who did not have the same childhood as you two did.

Any type of abuse or psychological manipulation was a severe hard line; it was something you and Michael would never subject any child to, ever.

From being the only big sister to your little brother Dante, you knew there were a million ways around teaching and disciplining children without being physically, psychologically, or verbally abusive—even to children who have behavior issues.

You and Michael had been stressing to yourselves subconsciously the need to be nothing but good, loving parents teaching your future children manners and discipline early on without fear of repercussions or pain, but simply just to learn and understand.

Just a week ago you walked down the aisle and faced your lover—for the last time only as a lover before becoming Michael’s wife, wedded as Mrs. Corleone.

Now as you gazed at yourself in the mirror, the role of Michael Corleone’s wife had already truly embedded in you; seeing your husband clasping a new diamond necklace around your neck gently.

You blushed as you caught Michael’s eye in the mirror, placing a hand over your necklace carefully.

Michael admired the glistening diamonds over your neck; his eyes adoring the very shape of your collarbones before he leaned toward your shoulder and planted a soft kiss over it.

With a bit of arousal having flared up in you, you shivered from Michael’s warm touch as he let his hands linger around the back of your neck before he placed them on your hips.

“Mm,” your eyes fluttered shut as you took in the brief moment, feeling Michael’s breath over the side of your neck.

Michael’s hands slowly made their way over to your stomach where he rubbed tenderly, watching as your body language submitted to how good he was already making you feel.

“Are you late?” Michael murmured over your shoulder.

Butterflies churned in your stomach and blush stung your cheeks at the very question. “I think it’s still too soon to tell, baby.”

“Mm,” Michael nodded and began to massage your sides.

“Why do you ask?” You slowly opened your eyes and spoke to him in a soft, ushered tone. “Do you suspect I am?”

“Perhaps,” Michael answered, “I want to be the first to know.”

You cracked a shy smile, “and you will be without a doubt.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Michael took your hands in his, turning you around to face him directly before he pulled you into his embrace. “Although you never did tell me how many you wanted.”

“I can tell you now,” you rested your head over Michael’s chest and nodded. “Four little ones… That would be something.”

“Mhmm,” Michael kissed the top of your head. “A topic better suited for the future after we have our first.”

“Boy or girl?” You grinned and looked up at your husband.

“Doesn’t matter,” Michael told you. “But ultimately a son somewhere down the line to succeed our family.”

‘Of course.’ You knew it must have been the same with Michael’s father as it was with yours; one son at the very least to carry the family’s legacy under his name. ‘Understandable.’

“If you’re not…” Michael’s hands touched your hips again; his eyes beckoning to you. “Then we can try again.”

“And again?” You teased back, giggling. “Tonight.”

“Tonight,” Michael murmured and pulled your hips into his.

“As many times as we need to, hmm?” Your breath hitched as you bit down on your lip.

“As many times as you want to,” Michael corrected before he sealed a kiss over your lips.

The intimacy and love continuing to blossom between you and Michael unfolded in feverish desire and yearning. Like the beginning of an eternal and dangerous addiction, neither of you could get enough of the other.

Michael knew your love language was physical affection and words of affirmation just as you knew he was spending quality time with you and touching.

Michael couldn’t care less for material gifts and preferred experiences above all, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t care, enjoy, or appreciate either.

“Ah…” A breathy moan escaped your lips as your hand clutched over Michael’s back; feeling his firm, flexing muscle as Michael remained leaning down and hovering over your naked body.

Between the sounds of Michael’s lips leaving a trail of hot kisses over your neck, you heard his breathing hitching as his throbbing erection pressed against your stomach.

Barely a week into your marriage and filled to the brim with insatiable love and desire, Michael was unable to get enough of his new bride and her beauty.

“Ohhh…”

Inhaling deeply, Michael took in your scent as he nuzzled your neck; now glowing pink with the love marks he left behind as you had let your free hand roam through Michael’s tousled hair.

“Look at me,” Michael whispered against your lips as he grazed his thumb over your mouth, parting your bottom lip. “Look at me when I make love to you.”

‘Oh God, yes…’

The first three months of marriage may as well have been a fever dream for both of you.

Of course, none would be surprised at the sudden stamina the new bride and groom have for one another although some teasing and a dirty joke here and there would be in order, but if it wasn’t a night out or quality time spent with the family, Michael and you were doing nothing else but getting lost in one another again and again.

You’d lay in bed naked with the blankets barely covering yourself as you’d watch Michael strip down right in front of you before approaching you on the bed, and Michael enjoyed every second of undressing you himself with his own hands; the way the curves of your hips and fullness of your thighs felt against his hand as your skin was hot to the touch, brimming with passion and your body begging for pleasure was nothing short of ecstasy to Michael.

With your bodies intertwined with one another, you could practically feel Michael’s heart racing against yours; nothing but toe-curling, eye-rolling, intense orgasms, and memorizing every part of each other’s bodies filled your evenings for days to come.

You woke an urge tailored to your pleasure inside of Michael he could not ignore. Even after a night of ecstasy, if you approached him half-naked in the living room and begged Michael to fuck you again, he wouldn’t say no.

You straddled Michael’s lap and let your lace panties slip off your ankles as you felt the smooth, Italian silk fabric of Michael’s suit brush against your bare skin.

On his lap, you let out a whimpering moan as you pressed your hips against his and ran your hands up Michael’s half-unbuttoned dress shirt; his chest hair brushing past your fingers as you clutched onto his shoulders.

Michael leaned his back against his seat comfortably; his hands ran from your calves to your upper thighs before he cupped your ass and gave it a greedy squeeze.

Michael’s eyes expectantly looked at you. “You play the innocent, sweet role well…”

“Mm—” You whimpered as you pressed your lips against Michael’s neck from him giving your ass another harsh squeeze.

“But I see right through it,” Michael whispered to you—his tone low and husky.

“I…” You breathed shakily against Michael’s skin before planting a deep kiss over it; your free hand roamed through his black, silky hair.

You heard a barely audible, soft moan escape Michael’s lips which only intensified the feverish arousal coursing through your veins as you continued to hungrily kiss up and around Michael’s neck.

Michael wrapped one arm around your waist and kept his hand over your ass; his eyes half remained half-opened as he let you get lost within him, taking and getting everything you want.

Your kisses grew wet, hot, and sloppy around Michael’s jawline as you moaned through them yourself; severely aroused to the point where you thought your wetness pooling over the fabric of your panties was soaking through Michael’s trousers.

“Mine…” You cupped Michael’s cheek and turned his face to look him in the eye directly. “All mine…”

“Yours,” Michael said back before his lips sealed over yours in a crushing, needy kiss.

Your pussy throbbed from arousal over Michael’s knee; it practically had a heartbeat of its own from how horny you were feeling towards your husband—so much so that it was almost criminal.

“Look at you,” As Michael pulled away from the kiss, he gripped your throat with his free hand and let his thumb trace the outline of your bottom lip. “Can’t get your hands off of me.”

“You’re mine,” you panted back and took Michael by pleasant surprise as you licked his thumb. “

“That’s right, baby,” Michael murmured before pulling you back to him by your throat to give you another wet, rough kiss over the mouth.

As you fully straddled Michael’s lap and began to slowly grind your hips, gyrating them against Michael’s pulsating erection, Michael let his hands slip up through your skirt and play with the band of your panties.

Lost in insistent, passionate kisses, Michael pulled at your panties only to let it snap back against your skin as you were distracted between his lips.

Michael let his fingers go further, parting your dewy pussy lips to spread your wetness with one hand while squeezing your breast and massaging your nipple with his fingers on the other.

Aside from such fiery, mutual infatuation and lust, there was more; there was and always will be more.

The love between you and Michael blossomed so naturally that it could never feel forced like it was some sort of obligation that had to be fulfilled.

In public, despite the two of you being not so fond of blatant displays of affection, held hands or had Michael wrap an arm over your waist in casual but adoring affection you craved and yearned for always.

Just one touch from Michael—let alone his presence—was more than enough for you. It did nothing but thrill you all the more knowing this man is yours and you’re his; you’ll have all of Michael whenever you want and however you want.

Distance makes your heart grow fonder when Michael’s away on his business trips or doesn’t come home for a night. You’ve never felt insecurity, unsafe, or any sort of lingering sadness about Michael’s consistent absences to begin with.

Even at the end of a long night with little time to yourselves to follow another eventful one, you’d have just the same satisfaction in Michael’s embrace without the sexual intimacy.

Some of your most loving, romantic nights with Michael were the two of you skin-to-skin on the rooftop, naked and exchanging soft kisses as Michael smoked a cigarette.

Saying, “Yes, I do” and signing your marriage papers, your legal name became Victoria Ferrari Corleone; a unique love and lover to Michael in the sense that Michael could never treat you the way he treated Apollonia or Kay, but exponentially more protective, loving, and open to you in all aspects.

Your compatibility with Michael only resulted in him being all the more open with you; not feeling obligated to because you’ll get upset or ask, but because Michael wishes to—because he wants to.

There’s simply no entitlement; only love and caring. You could not describe your marriage to Michael Corleone in any other way.

#the godfather #al pacino #michael corleone x reader #michael corleone x oc #michael corleone fanfic #godfather au #michael corleone smut #michael corleone x reader smut #michael corleone #the godfather x reader #godfather x reader #alfredo james pacino #the godfather part ii #moth to flame fic #moth to flame fanfic

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sweetercalypso · 1 year ago

Text

Mercenary || Marc Spector

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: while on an undercover mission, Marc suspects he’s been recognized. In hopes of protecting his disguise, he’s forced to get creative.

Notes: no major warnings; kissing, cursing, and vague mentions of alcohol. Canon? Don’t know her. Pre-Moon-Knight Marc with no mentions of Khonshu or alters. No reader pronouns.

“Darling, there you are!”

You turn at the sound of a nearby voice, surprised to see a man standing just out of reach with his attention and his arms outstretched in your direction.

The touch of his hand against your shoulder sends chills down your spine as you look over the stranger with mannered scrutiny. The evening had been overwhelmed with small talk and cordial chatter, yet the dark eyes staring back at you were an unfamiliar sight.

“I’m sorry, I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.” Your soft reply is barely audible over the melodic string music traveling through the busy ballroom.

The man furrows his brow slightly before wiping the uncertainty from his features. His broad shoulders pull back and he gives a small grin. His charcoal grey suit and black oxfords don’t offer much significance amongst the sea of champagne socialites in attendance, but his mused hair and the yellowing bruise over his jaw are enough to tell you that he’s a character out of place.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he laughs airily. His hand drops slowly from your shoulder, travelling down your arm before he waves over a nearby waiter and grabs two glasses from the tray of tawny bubbling spirits.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” you say, accepting the drink with a gracious smile.

“No,” he clinks his glass against yours. “I would’ve remembered meeting you.”

Raising the glass to your painted lips, you take a moment to study the man in front of you. He doesn’t seem impressed by the room’s ornate décor, nor is he drawn to the sea of lively barons and their engrossed coterie.

Instead, he seems to count the expanse of windows across every wall, eyes jumping over each exit like he’s planning an escape. His presence draws no attention, and he doesn’t acknowledge partygoers as they waltz by. It seems, in fact, that this man is a stranger to more than just your company.

“So,” you drawl, startling the stillness that had settled around the two of you. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m having a lovely evening with a beautiful stranger.”

“Right.” You nod curtly, not missing the glint of mischief in his eye. “But what, exactly, brings you here this evening?”

You lean in closely, eyes locking onto his to gauge his reaction. “You look like a man on a mission.”

His face morphs into a look of surprise. He mulls over your words for a minute, surely weighing his options in his mind. Finally, he sighs, a sly grin creeping over his features.

“You caught me.”

Your eyes widen at his unexpected response, realizing that you were right about this rogue stranger. Thoughts of peril and unknown dangers flash in your mind like a silent alarm, but a small voice insists that he’s no threat to you.

“I’m here on business,” he begins, eyes flickering over the oblivious crowd gathered just out of earshot. “I got close to my mark earlier, but the guards got suspicious. I just need to blend in until the party’s over.”

You nod absently, giving thought to what he’d said. “So, you’re here to kill someone?”

“Not today,” he quips with a click of his tongue. “Too much of a mess.”

Nervous laughter spills from your lips. You fight to contain your sudden reaction, but it’s too much to keep from overflowing. This stranger – charming and entertaining as he may be – is dangerous, and his presence is surely no laughing matter.

Taking a moment to quiet your composure, you miss the way the man’s eyes flicker once – twice – over your shoulder when he notices a group of tall, serious-looking men moving steadily in your direction. His jaw tightens and he quickly ducks his head, deflating the humor from your lungs in an instant.

“Is everything alright?” You ask, tilting your head to meet his downcast gaze.

The man shakes his head stiffly and takes another survey of the room, searching for a way to make an escape. He spots the thicket of slow dancers in front of the orchestra and he’s quick in forming a plan.

“Dance with me.”

“What?” You blink at him with wide eyes, not sure what to think of his sudden request.

“I think I’ve been spotted and I need to hide my face. Dance with me. Please.”

A short nod is enough of an answer for the raven-haired man. He slips the half-empty champagne flute from your grasp, abandoning your drinks on a nearby table in favor of leading you towards the dance floor across the room. The two of you weave wordlessly through the throng of duos until the rest of the room is lost beyond the intimate sway of the masses.

He stops once he’s sure he’s out of sight, jaw tensing like he’s deep in thought. His hand guides yours to rest softly on his shoulder while his other palms aptly at your hip.

“M’not much of a dancer,” he says quietly, almost apologetic in the way his feet immediately begin to stumble into yours.

The corners of your mouth tick upwards as you fight back a grin. With each ungainly step he takes in creating a clumsy waltz, you begin to see more of the humble man behind the disguise.

“That’s alright,” you assure him with a smile. “I’ll lead.”

You plant your feet as confidently as you can manage and use your hold on his shoulder to push and pull him along with your strides.

One foot leads the other and the two of you fall into a fluid, measured step. Before long, you’re moving in a comfortable sway like familiar friends or devoted partners.

“Are they looking for me?” He asks lowly once you’re turned in the right direction to see the party over his shoulder.

Two gruff men in plain black suits roam through the crowd on either side of the room, slowly taking count of each person in attendance.

You suck in a deep breath as one glances in your direction, almost as if he knows he’s being watched.

“Yeah,” you reply in a whisper, nodding your head as subtly as you can. “I see at least four, and they’re heading this way.”

“Shit,” he curses under his breath. “I was trying to avoid making a scene.”

The situation calls for action, but you’re unable to think of any way to help the man beyond what you’ve done thus far. You’re not a spy, or anything else of importance that might’ve granted you the skills to aid in this affair.

Just as one of the guards begins to part through the dancing couples, a wave of panic washes over you. In an act of instinct, rather than tactic, you lean in and press your lips to his, placing a hand on the stranger’s cheek in order to hide his face.

He’s still for a moment before he reacts and wraps his arm around you in a tight embrace. His mouth moves against yours skillfully, eagerly, like this impromptu kiss was planned all along.

The guard is long gone by the time you pull away, breathless and wide-eyed at the realization of what you’d done.

“I’m so sorry-” you drop your hands from his face, taking a step back to put a respectable distance between the two of you. “I don’t know what came over me. I saw the guard coming and-”

“Thank you,” he interrupts your nervous apology with a grateful smile.

“I have to go while they’re still busy looking for me, but really, you’ve been a great help.”

He’s turning to leave before you can think to stop him, disappearing into the crowd without so much as a hint as to who he is or where he’s going next. The mystery of the evening remains unsolved, much to your displeasure.

“Wait.”

You’re pushing through the crowd to follow after him, careless of the odd glances you receive from demure guests in your wake.

When you’re close enough to touch him, you call out another “wait!”, grabbing his wrist to keep from losing him in the crowd.

You’re almost upset with him for leaving so feebly, although you’d never admit it out loud. The thrill of the evening had sparked something inside of you, and the spontaneous kiss had only left you wanting more. But now that the adventure is dying down, you’re beginning to lose your confidence.

When you realize he’s waiting for you to speak, you’re suddenly at a loss for words. The need for excitement has grown cold, fizzling out until you’re left with a dreadful pit in the bottom of your stomach.

“I, uh- I didn’t get your name.”

It’s an anticlimactic end to your meeting, but it’s all you can think to say in the moment.

He flashes a smile that reminds you of when you’d first met. No longer faced with the threat of guards closing in, the man’s cool composure has been restored. With a familiar sly expression, he offers only a fleeting response before he’s whisked away:

“Don’t worry – I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

#calypso writes #Moon Knight #Marc Spector #marc spector fluff #marc spector x reader #marc spector drabble #moon knight x you #moon knight x reader #moon knight one shot #moon knight fluff #marc x reader #moon knight x gender neutral reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader

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bullyingfictionalmen · 2 months ago

Text

Crow’s Lullaby

Summary: The year: 1925. The place: Linkon City. ‘Evol’ as a concept is only just being studied. A young singer with a sordid past and an infamous criminal with a penchant for jazz cross paths, perhaps not for the first time. She’s chasing her dreams, he might be the only person in the city with the sway to keep her safe. But will teaming up bring mysteries to light, or will it seal their doom?

Read on AO3

Word Count: 1.9k

CW: violence, main story/anecdote spoilers, fem!MC, eventual smut

1: A Siren Sings in an Empty Room

When you got the job at Sour Note, it was just waiting tables. You knew the jazz club held secrets that its meager stage belied, but the owner, Luke, had nearly laughed you out of the interview when you proposed a steady singing gig.

“Listen, doll, you’ve got guts, but moxie don’t pay the bills. You think a waif like you with no name recognition could draw a crowd, much less keep ‘em hooked ‘til the fifth cocktail?”

“You haven’t even heard me sing! What if—” but your plea fell on deaf ears. It was all you could do to convince him to let you wash dishes in the back.

But everything changes one slow, rainy night. Fall is fading fast, succumbing to winter’s biting chill. The club is nearly empty after the dinner rush dies, save a few regulars in the back having a hushed conversation. Their faces are obscured by cigar smoke, nowhere near needing assistance. Bored, you feel your eyes wandering toward the ornate grand piano, as they often do when you have a free moment. Unlike the rest of the muted décor, Sour Note’s piano is pristine, glossy, even. It’s old, but has clearly been treated with the utmost care. Luke has told you on multiple occasions that if you touch it, he’ll cut off your thumbs.

But Luke’s not here tonight. Your fingers are practically itching, and one little song couldn’t hurt. Quietly, you slide onto the bench, mind racing, hands hovering over the keys. For a moment, you feel paralyzed with uncertainty. Your throat clenches, your chest is heavy. No big deal, you reassure yourself. No one will find out. This is just for me.

You begin to sing, softly at first. Your breathing is a little unsteady, your hands are stiff. But as you continue your performance, the fear melts away. In its place swells the joy of pure artistic expression, the satisfaction of doing what you love. Your voice, a rich and warm contrast to this dreary evening, seems to soar and fill the room. The gentle, twinkling piano flows beneath it like magic. When the last note rings out, you feel an unabashed grin lighting up your face. Your dream has come true, if only for a moment.

Show, sharp applause breaks you out of your trance in an instant. Your gaze darts to the table of regulars, but they aren’t the source of it. At some point during the song, a gentleman you’ve never seen before has entered the club. Your panicked brain hones in on each striking feature, silver-white hair that’s perfectly mussed in spite of the rain, blazing red eyes, a neatly-pressed suit with a leather jacket draped over his broad shoulders. He exudes the kind of nonchalant self-assurance you’ve only ever associated with the exorbitantly wealthy. He’s lounging on one of the sofas like he owns the place, eyeing you with an intensity that makes you want to crouch down and hide like a scolded child.

“Well, now,” he drawls, standing up and taking a step toward the stage. His voice is so deep and melodic that it makes you shiver. “I’m shocked. I wasn’t aware that Luke had booked a musical guest for this evening.”

You feel a blush creeping all the way to your ears. Debate lying and lightly playing it off. But something about this man’s demeanor, the wry arch of his eyebrow, makes you feel like he can read your every thought. All possible excuses die before they can reach your lips. “He… he didn’t.”

The man laughs softly, and you’re sure he already knew that. “I see. Bold, aren’t we, kitten? There are few who would dare to lay hands on my mother’s piano. But you really gave it your all, so I’ll let it slide.”

You gasp, hands jerking away from the keys like you’ve been burned. “Your… mother’s…?”

The man’s lips quirk into a sly grin. “No need to be scared. Instruments are meant to be played, right?” He steps up onto the stage, looming over you. “Though I do like that pretty ‘o’ your mouth makes when you’re surprised.”

Your hands fly to cover your face. You try desperately to think of something, anything intelligent to say. Maybe, ‘sorry’? Or, ‘who are you?’. But all you can focus on is your heartbeat pounding in your ears, the pleasant, spicy smell of his cologne, and the imminent possibility of unemployment. When you feel composed enough to peek between your fingers, you find him staring at you again, chin propped up on his palm, an amused glint in his eyes.

“Are you a little calmer now?” You manage a nod, and the man gestures to the bench. “Scoot over a bit.”

Your conscious mind barely registers his request, but you do as he bid on instinct. When he sits down next to you, the soft leather of his jacket brushes against your arm. There’s barely enough room for the two of you, and you curl in on yourself a bit until he taps your shoulder. “You can relax. I won’t bite. And I won’t tell Luke about your little solo act.”

You raise your head so you can look him in the eyes. “Really?”

“It wouldn’t matter if I did, though.” The man says, absently running his fingers over the keys. “The person with final say on hiring and firing is the owner.”

You blink. “But Luke, isn’t he—?”

“He’s been kind enough to watch over this place for me while I’m indisposed.” As if to accentuate his words, the man plays a light little arpeggio.

“Do you own other businesses, Mister, um—”

“Sylus,” he offers you a handshake, and you take it, still a little hesitant. But you give him your own name. “To your question, I guess you could say I have my fingers in a variety of pots in Linkon CIty. Music just happens to be a fascination of mine.”

“For your mother, too?” The question spills out before you can wonder if he’d find it rude.

Sylus looks a bit taken aback, but his expression clouds with something you haven’t seen from him before. Fondness. You find yourself marveling at the way the emotion softens the intensity of his features. “She did love music. Jazz in particular. She would have been a great pianist herself, in different circumstances.”

This time, you know better than to pry. “I’m sorry for touching something of hers without asking. It’s a beautiful instrument, and I’m sure it means a lot to you.”

A low laugh rumbles in his chest, and you feel a twinge of warmth at such a lovely sound. “Quite alright. But, if I may ask, what spurred you to play that song in particular?”

You cross your hands in your lap, humming in thought. “Well, ‘Crow’s Lullaby’ was on one of the records my granny used to play all the time at the house. She loved to twirl around as she cooked or cleaned, singing her heart out into a ladle or a hairbrush. She was tone-deaf, but my brother and I still loved to dance and cheer her on. When I was a little older, she brought home a spinet from the antique shop, and that was the first song I learned to play on it. She… cried when I sang it for her.” Feeling a little misty, you swallow thickly, wiping at the corners of your eyes and forcing a smile. “Anyway, I guess it’s what I think of first when I get a chance to perform.”

“I see. She must’ve been a great inspiration to you. A prime reason you want to be a professional.”

Your spine goes rigid at his spot-on observation. Holding back a sheepish smile, you fiddle with a stray strand of your hair. “Am I so obvious that you can smell my desperation?”

“That’s not how I’d put it,” Sylus’ crimson eyes linger on you a moment, and you fight the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. “I noticed because you carry yourself like a performer. When you sing, I sense not only raw talent, but years of practice that make those notes seem effortless.”

His straightforward praise leaves you speechless for a moment, your heart rendered gooey as melted chocolate. “Th-Thank you. You’re too kind.”

“No, just observant,” Sylus asserts. “That, and Luke complained to me a few months ago about an audacious, unproven girl looking for a singing gig at my club.” Your blush returns full force, as does Sylus’ smirk. “Does your grandmother know you’re working here?”

You shake your head, gaze falling to your lap. “She, um, passed away a few months ago.”

“Ah… My condolences.”

The conversation lulls. As the silence stretches on, a strange, fluttering urgency takes hold of you. A desire to maintain whatever tenuous connection you have to this man. “D-Do you play the piano, Sylus? Or sing?”

“I do play a little,” Sylus’ lips curve upward. “As for singing, it’s one of my greatest loves. Unfortunately, I’ve been informed that I’m a little… tone-deaf. That’s actually the story behind the club’s name—a bit of a self-effacing joke.”

“Huh. Somehow, that’s hard to believe.”

“What makes you say that, kitten? Teasing me for my faults?”

“Not at all. I just thought that with a voice like yours, you could enthrall anyone with a song.”

“’Enthrall’ them…? What an interesting choice of words. They bring to mind sirens at sea.” Sylus’ eyes twinkle with mirth, and you’re one more embarrassment away from bolting into the rain. I can’t believe I just said that.

You turn away, squeezing your eyes shut. “S-Sorry, that’s, um… I meant—”

“So quick to cower,” Sylus muses, his fingers gently guiding your face toward his, “but you shouldn’t apologize.” Your eyes meet his again, and it’s not just his voice that enraptures you. “I could only ever feel flattered by such praise, delivered straight from a siren’s lips.”

His words are a spell, a honeyed incantation that robs you of all your sense. Your lashes flutter, red lips parted slightly as if a kiss is a forgone conclusion. There’s no doubt in your mind that if anyone here is a siren, it’s Sylus. Your fingers trace his forearm before clutching the fabric of his sleeve. Your breaths mingle, your eyelids fall closed in anticipation, and then—

“This damn weather! I swear I’m going to—” The two of you jolt apart at the sound of Luke’s loud, disgruntled voice. When the man catches sight of you sitting at the piano, his nostrils flare, eyes bulging in disbelief. “What in Astra’s name are you doing over there? How many times do I have to tell you, brat? Lemme see those thumbs—"

“Luke,” Sylus’ chides, but his tone is placid, without a hint of the regret or unease that leaves you silent and paralyzed, “I told her it was alright.”

Luke scrunches his brow and scoffs. “That’s rich, Boss, considering all the times you’ve threatened my life over that old thing. ‘Luke, if there’s so much as a smudge on that piano, I swear I’ll rip off your di—‘”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Sylus rolls his eyes. “I merely told you to be careful, and you have been. Besides, this one bent the rules in service of a greater good. Now, Luke, break out our best bottle of gin. I believe a celebration is in order.”

Your eyes go wide. There are many speakeasies around the city—hell, you’ve been to a fair few—but alcohol is illegal, and it’s unusual to discuss it so brazenly. “A celebration…?”

“Why, yes,” Sylus winks. He offers you a hand, helping you stand up from the bench before he leans down to kiss your knuckles. “In honor of your new job.”

#love and deepspace #lads fanfic #lads mc #lads sylus #lads x reader #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x mc #lads 1920s au #jazz singer!mc #mafia boss!sylus #eventual smut

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fdelopera · 6 days ago

Text

Welcome to the 53rd installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper 115 yeas ago.

In today’s installment, we have Part V of Chapter 22, “Dans les dessous de l’Opéra” (In the Underside of the Opera), and Part I of Chapter 23, “Intéressantes et instructives tribulations d’un Persan dans les dessous de l’Opéra: Recit du Persan” (Interesting and Informative Tribulations of a Persian in the Underside of the Opera: The Persian’s Narrative).

This section was first printed on Sunday, 19 December, 1909.

For anyone following along in David Coward's translation of the First Edition of Phantom of the Opera (either in paperback, or Kindle, or from another vendor -- the ISBN-13 is: 978-0199694570), the text starts in Chapter 21, “To prevent the water in which the foundations stood from permanent, direct contact with the walls which supported the levels containing the stage apparatus and equipment…” and goes to Chapter 22, “It rose soothingly from the depths of the lake and enveloped me by some cunning process which I could not explain.”

There are some differences between the Gaulois text and the First Edition. In this section, these include (highlighted in red above):

1) Chapter XXIII was printed as Chapter XXIV. This numbering error was made in Chapter VII, and was not corrected, so it was propagated throughout the Gaulois publication.

2) Each chapter in the Gaulois publication is one number ahead of the chapters in the First Edition, due to the inclusion of “The Magic Envelope” chapter in the Gaulois.

3) Compare the Gaulois text:

Contre cette paroi, il y avait une toile, un décor du Roi de Lahore.

Translation:

Against this wall, there was a backdrop, a piece of the set from Roi de Lahore.

To the First Edition:

Contre cette paroi, il y avait une vaste toile abandonnée du décor du Roi de Lahore.

Translation:

Against this wall, there was an immense, abandoned backdrop from the set of Roi de Lahore.

4) Compare the Gaulois text:

Si, pendant quelques instants, ce début fort intéressant semble un peu nous éloigner de la chambre des supplices, ce n'est que pour mieux nous y ramener tout de suite…

Translation:

If, however briefly, this fascinating prelude appears somewhat to take us away from the torture chamber, it is only to more compellingly lead us back to it in short order…

To the First Edition:

Si, pendant quelques instants, ce début fort intéressant semble un peu nous éloigner de la chambre des supplices, ce n'est que pour mieux nous y amener tout de suite…

Translation:

If, however briefly, this fascinating prelude appears somewhat to take us away from the torture chamber, it is only to more compellingly lead us to it in short order…

5) Compare the Gaulois text:

…souvent je l'avais épié, tantôt dans les coulisses de dessus, tantôt dans celles du dessous…

Translation:

…I had frequently observed him, sometimes in the backstage areas above ground, sometimes in those below ground…

To the First Edition:

…souvent je l'avais épié, tantôt dans les couloirs de dessus, tantôt dans ceux du dessous…

Translation:

…I had frequently observed him, sometimes in the corridors above ground, sometimes in those below ground…

6) This text was added to the First Edition (indicated in bold):

C'est alors que j'avais eu affaire à la Sirène qui gardait les abords de ces lieux, et dont le charme avait failli m'être fatal, dans les conditions précises que voici.

Translation:

It was then that I encountered the Siren who guarded the area surrounding that place, and whose spell was nearly fatal to me, in the following circumstances which I shall relate.

7) Minor differences in punctuation and italicization.

Click here to see the entire edition of Le Gaulois from 19 December, 1909. This link brings you to page 3 of the newspaper — Le Fantôme is at the bottom of the page in the feuilleton section. Click on the arrow buttons at the bottom of the screen to turn the pages of the newspaper, and click on the Zoom button at the bottom left to magnify the text.

#phantom of the opera #poto #gaston leroux #le fantôme de l’opéra #le gaulois #phantom translation #15 weeks of phantom #phantom 115th anniversary

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lizzisimss · 1 year ago

Text

Gonzales Family Home

CC used (list below) Garden Essence in Willow Creek 40 x 30 8 bed, 3 bath $276,606

This build is part of the Lizzisimss Save File.

Aira – https://www.patreon.com/airacc

Birdie lamp

Frog incense

Froggy cushion

Ghibli clay 2

Ghibli painting

Heart night lamp

Mushroom plant

Tablet PC

Toast light

Vanilla flower candle

Vanilla recipe book

Woodenland bear holder

ATS4 – https://www.patreon.com/aroundthesims

Kitchenrack condiments

Kitchenrack utsensils

Brazenlotus - https://www.patreon.com/BrazenLotus

The trouble with plants

Whatever you want

Steezy Skis

Heavy Metal Shelf

Clean sweep

Laundry Made Essentials

charly pancakes - https://www.patreon.com/charlypancakes

The Lighthouse Collection merged

Diaper days

Dinna merged

Lavish Merged

M & S Constructions part I merged

Miscellanea Merged

Modish Merged

Munch merged

Smol merged

Soak merged

Tarot posters simblreen treat 1 2020

Felixandre – https://www.patreon.com/felixandre

Fayun part 2 and 2

Georgian set

Gothic revival interior

London exterior

Greellamas – https://www.patreon.com/greenllamas

KERV

house of harlix - https://www.houseofharlix.com

Orjanic

Bafroom

Baysic Bafroom Merged

Baysic Merged

Harluxe Merged

Jardane

Livin’Rum Merged

The Kichen

Tiny Twavellers Merged

harrie - https://www.patreon.com/heyharrie

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likecastle · 1 year ago

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OK, this one's for @bus-ghoul, who said, "Robin and Nancy for whatever reason shop at the mall (that somehow didn’t burn down)." Thanks for this prompt! I love a girl-world shopping trip! I didn't wind up setting this at Starcourt, but there is shopping at the mall, so hopefully that works! I also, once again, made this kinda angsty. Whoops! All Feelings! No serious warnings on this one, though.

“Are you sure you girls don’t want me to drive you?” Nancy’s mom asks fretfully.

“Yes, Mom,” Nancy says, not for the first time. Somehow, Nancy’s impending departure for college has activated her mom’s protective streak way more than any of the nightmarish events of the past few years ever have. Nancy figures her going away to college probably feels real to her mom in a way that psychic children and extra-dimensional sinkholes never did.

“We’ll be fine, Mrs. Wheeler,” Robin pipes up, from where she’s standing by the passenger side door, just waiting to get in. “I promise. It’s not even an hour’s drive.”

Nancy’s mom still looks torn, but finally she sighs and takes a twenty dollar bill from her purse. “Why don't you get yourselves a nice lunch while you’re out shopping.”

Over the roof of the car, Nancy sees Robin’s eyes widen. And sure enough, once they’re finally on the road and Robin has finished fiddling with the radio, she says, “What does your mom think we're going to get for lunch? Caviar and champagne at Hotdog on a Stick?”

Nancy shakes her head, as if it’ll help her shake off her mom’s worry. “She just wants us to have a good time,” she says, feeling defensive now, even though she was irritated at her only a few minutes ago.

“I’m pretty sure it’s scientifically impossible to have a good time shopping for twin XL sheets and shower flip-flops.”

“Do you want me to drop you off at home?” Nancy threatens, without much heat. “Because I can still turn around.”

To their mutual surprise, they do actually have a good time. College Mall is doesn’t have quite the same selection as Starcourt did, but it’s also not backed by nefarious Russians. It shouldn’t be fun, shopping with someone who has objectively terrible taste, and who thinks Nancy has awful taste in turn, but it is.

“Seriously, Wheeler?” Robin asks, when Nancy picks up a perfectly nice set of sheets with pale pink roses on them.

“What? What’s wrong with these?”

Robin laughs. “Nothing, if you’re Laura Ashley!”

“Well," she says indignantly, "which ones would you pick?”

Robin gets a devilish look in her eye and leads Nancy across the bedding section, weaving between the displays. “Just look at these beauties!” she says, doing jazz hands in the direction of a set of sheets in an eye-searing geometric pattern, every angle somehow in startling disharmony with the next. Nancy actually feels a little dizzy looking at the fabric, something she hadn’t previously thought was even possible.

“They’re hideous,” Nancy says.

“I know,” Robin says, with barely-restrained glee. She holds the package up for Nancy to take a closer look, which only makes the design worse. “Isn’t it great?! It’s like someone vomited non-Euclidean geometry all over your bed. Imagine if a—if someone brought you back to their dorm and you start making out only to find that under their comforter. Instant hilarity.”

Nancy blinks at the mental image. “I guess it would be sort of a mood killer,” she admits, though her dating history’s been marred by some pretty lamentable bedroom décor, and that never stopped her.

Robin nods sagely. “Good for weeding out the faint of heart.”

“You should get them,” Nancy says firmly, though she doesn’t think the sheets are any less ugly now than she did a minute ago. But they make Robin laugh, and it's nice to see her toothy, sidelong grin.

Robin shrugs, setting the package of sheets back down on the shelf. “I’ll probably just bring some sheets from home,” she says, her voice carefully casual.

Nancy remembers too late Robin bemoaning the fact that her scholarship to IUB doesn’t cover room and board. It hasn’t escaped her notice that Robin’s got one shopping bag to Nancy’s three.

“D’you want to get some frozen custard?” Nancy asks abruptly. “My mom’s treat.”

“Yes, I absolutely do,” Robin says, with such seriousness that Nancy can’t help but laugh.

Nancy can’t help thinking about it, though, as they make their way to the food court and order their frozen custard, Robin shoving the remainder of the twenty dollars into the tip jar out of sympathy. She can’t help thinking how different their college experiences are going to be—Nancy almost a thousand miles away at Emerson, Robin here in Bloomington, not even an hour away from home. Nancy has a merit scholarship, too, but her parents are paying for everything it doesn’t cover without batting an eye, while Robin’s been talking about getting a part-time job on top of her work-study. Nancy’s not even sure when Robin will find time to take someone back to her dorm to make out.

That hasn’t escaped her notice, either, the little pronoun game Robin plays sometimes—when she talks about dating at all. Nancy’s never asked outright, because she’s afraid to shatter the tenuous friendship that’s developed between them since spring break. But between her vehement insistence that she and Steve are just friends and the way she looked at Susan Sarandon in The Hunger that one time they all tried to do movie night, Nancy’s reasonably certain that the someone Robin would be bringing home would be someone a little like Nancy herself. Probably not just like her. Someone cooler, with edgier taste in music. Someone who wouldn’t pick sheets with dainty little rosebuds on them. Someone with red hair, most likely, if Nancy’s not mistaken. But someone—at least in some particulars—not entirely unlike Nancy.

And Nancy doesn’t really know what to do with the way that knowledge sits inside her, the way she thinks about Robin leaning back on her elbows on her dorm room bed and feels a pang of jealousy for the girl who’ll get to push her down on the worn-soft sheets she brought from home. But it’s a moot point, because even if Robin’s interested in girls, it’s not like she’d attracted to girls like Nancy, and even if she were, in a few weeks they’ll be half a continent apart, and Nancy’s tried the long-distance thing and it didn’t work out great the last time, so what’s the point of even entertaining the possibility?

Even so, as she watches Robin sneak her spoon out to steal a taste of Nancy’s yogurt, she does think about it.

#ronance #robin x nancy #robin/nancy #stranger things femslash #femslashtember #bug ghoul #flash forward to winter break and nancy comes home having tried henna for the first time #also in my heart i know that nancy doubles back to buy those sheets for robin #and then at some point they make out on them

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obiancadenise · 1 year ago

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Coffee Project: Where Coffee Meets Art and Inspiration

Infusing the passion for coffee with the aesthetics of art and design, Coffee Project offers an experience unlike any other coffee shop. The instant you walk through the door, you're whisked away to a fantastical realm where imagination and coffee meet. Coffee Project is a carefully managed setting that inspires and uplifts with its lush vegetation, rustic furniture, and charming décor.

The meticulous crafting of Coffee Project is one of its most alluring qualities. There is artwork in every corner and crevice, from the elaborate wallpaper to the captivating light fixtures. It's the kind of place where you can go for a coffee and a chat with a friend or to curl up with a good book in peace and quiet. Coffee Project has a number of different seating arrangements, from intimate nooks to lively community tables, to accommodate its customers.

The coffee is the main attraction of Coffee Project. The café takes pride in its excellent service and the delicious variety of specialty coffees it provides. Every kind of coffee drink imaginable exists, from traditional espresso-based beverages to extravagant and fanciful specialized concoctions. It's impossible to have a bad meal when you pair your coffee with one of their delicious pastries or brunch options.

Coffee Project encourages collaboration and innovation in addition to its aesthetic appeal and tasty beverages. It's a meeting place for creative types, where ideas may flourish and creativity can flourish. Coffee Project is a haven where you may escape the stresses of everyday life and find inspiration in the worlds of art and design while enjoying some of the best coffee around.

So whether you're in need of some motivation, a well brewed cup of coffee, or just a calm and relaxing place to hang out, Coffee Project Cafe is the place to go. It's not just a place to get your caffeine fix; it's an adventure that will leave you feeling refreshed and revitalized from the inside out.

Facebook: Coffee Project Instagram: @coffeeprojectofficial

Disclaimer: All pictures shown are mine and self photograph

#CoffeeTalkswithBianca #CoffeeProject #cafe aesthetic #coffee #coffeeshop #coffetime #iced coffee #cafe

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yoosmekihyun · 1 year ago

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Conversations in the Dark (pt. 1)

Summary: After a series of major personal events, you decide to move to New York (in part) so you can have a relationship with your newly discovered half-sister, Karen Page. Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson become additional important figures in your life as you navigate new relationships and figure out how to live your life.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut (eventually), we run the spectrum of emotions here

Warnings: mention of death, grief, anxiety, drinking, pining (so much pining), self-deprecation, chapters with sexual content will be marked with their own warnings, violence or attempted violence (i.e. Daredevil related), more possible warnings in the future

Author’s Note: This is pure wish fulfillment and written for my own joy. I haven’t put out anything in at least five years and this is the first time I’ve written something multi-part. I’m not sure how this will go, how long it will be, or how often I will post/update.

Word Count: 1.9k

Part 1

The remnants of summer still lingered in the warm September afternoon as you stepped out of the cab in front of the coffee shop. Glancing at your watch, you realized you were still a little early but that’s how you preferred it. This would allow you to order your drink and calm your nerves a little before she arrived.

When your turn came at the counter, you took the barista’s suggestion of the monthly special and moved to wait for your drink. Looking around you noticed the little pieces of fall décor another employee was putting up around the shop giving it a cozier vibe. Once the barista called your name, you found a small empty table in a corner that would allow you to watch the door and enjoy the city street chaos through the large window next to you.

This shouldn’t have been as nerve racking as it was but while you had spoken with your half-sister several times over the last year, you hadn’t seen her in person since your father’s funeral a little over a year ago. You prayed this was a good idea. You needed a win after the heaviness you had dealt with over the last few years. You needed some joy and connection, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity but now you were second guessing yourself.

Just as you were beginning to spiral and doubt your decision for the umpteenth time that day, you heard the ding of the door and watched your half-sister, Karen Page, rush in searching for you. The moment she saw you, she broke into a huge smile and hurried over to envelop you in a hug.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you made it safely! I hope you weren’t waiting long; I told Matt and Foggy I needed to leave sooner but they’re drowning in a sea of paperwork for a case, and we lost track of time.”

“Don’t worry about it! I’m usually early and you’re only a couple minutes late. No harm, no foul.” You released her from the hug and in that instant, you knew you had made the right decision. You didn’t realize how much you needed a hug from family until that moment and you felt more settled than you had in weeks.

“Do we need to postpone so you can get back to the office? Are you on a time crunch?” you asked.

“Oh, hell no, we are not postponing! They’ll be fine without me for a little while. I want to caffeinate while I hear about how you’re feeling now that you’re here!”

-X-

Your biological father may have been a world class asshole, but at least he had the decency to tell you and Karen about each other before he died. It was weird growing up as an only child to find out as an adult that you had a sister, especially when you had so desperately wished for one when you were younger. For her part, Karen could have decided she didn’t want a sister, but she welcomed you into her life with open arms. Admittedly, you struggled some, not because you were unhappy to find out about her, but because the news came during one of the worst times of your life.

If you had a terrible biological father, then luckily, you had the most amazing mother you could have asked for. When you and Karen found out about each other, you had just received news that your mother had been diagnosed with cancer for the second time. This time, it was late-stage and had spread with abysmal survival rates. This news alone meant your plate was beyond full. The idea of figuring out how to grieve the parent who didn’t want you while struggling to accept the awful news about your mother was overwhelming. It was nothing to say of the struggles to cultivate a new relationship with your sister under your poorly hidden sorrow, but Karen had been lovely and understanding. She did so much of the early legwork to develop your relationship, checking on you when she knew you were focused on your mother and often reminding you to do basic tasks to take care of yourself.

When your mother passed in the late spring, you were understandably devastated. She had been your sounding board your entire life and, without her, you felt unmoored. Thankfully, Karen had been there. She hadn’t been able to come to the funeral, but she called you every day for the first couple weeks after to make sure you were eating, hydrating, and showering. She listened to your stories and cried with you when the grief threatened to eat you alive.

During a conversation expressing your untethered feelings, Karen raised the idea that led you to the coffee shop in the midst of Hell’s Kitchen.

“Hey, I know you’re not sure what to do but…what if you moved here? Maybe a big change of pace and scenery will help you move forward.”

If you were being honest, moving to New York was an idea you had for a long time. You had applied to Columbia and NYU in your final year of high school but a full ride to a local university secured your undergrad path. Despite this decision, you never let go of the idea of New York. When Karen tentatively suggested the idea, it was like your mother was holding a huge neon sign for you, telling you to get off your ass and GO! A light burst into life within you, and you scrambled to make the arrangements so you could move as soon as possible.

-X-

Once Karen had her coffee and settled into her seat, you relayed some of your travel mishaps and your ideas and loose plans for her input.

“Honestly, I can’t really believe I’m here. It’s all still so surreal. But I’m hoping the apartment hunting will help ground me a little and once I can actually get my things here, it’ll start to sink in.”

“That makes sense. I imagine it’ll feel more like a vacation until you have your things around you. I’m so glad you’re here to experience fall in New York! I think you’ll love it,” Karen gushed, beaming at you.

As you grinned at Karen, you felt a peace and a warmth spread in your chest that you hadn’t felt since before your mom passed. You reached across the table and grasped her hand. “Thank you, Karen, for everything. I don’t know what I would have done without you this last year. I’m so grateful you’re my sister.”

Karen’s eyes started to well up as she gripped your hand in return, “I’m grateful you’re my sister too.”

Shocking you both out of the moment, Karen’s phone buzzed, and she rolled her eyes once she saw the caller ID. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. He knows I’m with you so I’m not sure why Foggy’s calling.” You waved her to answer it, unbothered by the interruption as it gave you a moment to reign in your emotions a little more. You didn’t need to start sobbing in the middle of a coffee shop; you’d have your bigger emotions in private later.

You took a sip of your coffee as you heard Karen’s exasperated tone, “Yes Foggy I know it’s a big deal. YES, I know we need the revenue. Okay, okay but you both know why I took an extended break and who I’m with…Seriously?? Now? Ugh, fine. You both owe me AND Y/N for interrupting.”

Karen sighed as she ended the call and looked at you apologetically. Before she could even say anything, you started, “Let me guess, they need you back ASAP because they don’t know how to function without you?”

She chuckled and confirmed, “Basically. He also asked me to bring back coffee. They’re losing steam fast. If you’re not too tired, do you want to walk back with me? You can meet them, so you know who to look for when we get drinks at Josie’s tonight!”

“Wait, what’s Josie’s?”

“It’s this local dive bar that Matt and Foggy love and they want to welcome you to the city! We planned on going tonight if you felt up to it, but we can do another night or somewhere else if that works better for you?”

You could tell Karen was a little nervous. Whether it was encouraging you to meet her co-workers and friends so quickly or having you go drinking your first night in an unfamiliar city, you didn’t know but you wanted to start living your life, not hide away in a hotel room.

“That all sounds great! I love a good dive bar, sounds like my kind of place.”

Fresh coffees in hand, you and Karen made your way back to her office making small talk about the neighborhood and places to consider when you went apartment hunting the following day with a recommended broker. You wanted to be near Karen, not necessarily in her building, but within walking distance so it would be easy to see each other when you wanted.

You nearly missed the sign “Nelson, Murdock, and Page” until Karen directed you to the door next to it. Once you made it to the interior door, you could hear the loud voices before Karen opened the office door.

“I come bearing caffeine. If you want it, stop arguing and get out here so you can meet my sister!”

You heard chairs scraping right before you saw a tall, blonde man with a huge smile step out of a side room. Holding out his hand for you to shake he said, “Hi! I’m Franklin Nelson but you can call me Foggy.”

Unable to hold back your grin, you took his hand for a quick shake and replied “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

The sheer happiness and light that shone out of Foggy reminded you of your mother. You knew this man was going to be your friend, come hell or highwater.

Behind Foggy you could hear a shuffling sound and you peered around him. Once you saw the other man, you nearly forgot to breathe. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you gazed at easily the most beautiful man you had ever seen in person. Like Foggy, he had his sleeves rolled up to just under the elbow and the top button of his shirt was undone along with a loosened tie. His red reflective glasses did nothing to distract from the sharp jawline and days-old stubble. His dark hair was slightly mussed, as if he had recently been running a hand through it. As beautiful as he was standing before you, you were most distracted by his mouth. It was lush and soft while still looking deliciously male and it was quirked up on one side like he was in on some kind of joke you had missed.

Loudly, someone cleared their throat and shook you out of your stare. You realized you had missed something as Karen looked at you with a raised eyebrow and a smirk and Foggy was shaking his head while rolling his eyes.

You gave a little embarrassed chuckle as your cheeks flushed, “Um, sorry, what did I miss? I’m a little out of it, all the excitement and travel today.”

The beautiful man gave a full smile and you nearly stopped breathing again. He stepped forward and with one hand extended, he repeated,

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Matt Murdock.”

#matt murdock fic #matt murdock series #matt murdock x female reader #daredevil x female reader #daredevil fic #matthew murdock #conversations in the dark #miss pearl writes #yoosmekihyun

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