#The skirt one is my version and the long one is more one to one with the gift

[gnohomotho]

HEAR ME OUT

This request that i have is so cheesy but sounds so good in my mind, forgive me 😭😫

Junho and reader doing like a private first impression thing like u know where the bride and groom are standing back to back and then they turn around. And like Junho is mesmerised has tears is his eyes

Like i literally only have the most cheesy and romantic ideas in my mind i CANNOT help it

Btw love your works 😜😚😚😚❤️❤️

I did my best, Anon, your message truly made my day. ♥ :D I hope I didn't overdo it, then again, cheese is my livelihood. Sorry for any oddities or spelling mistakes, I'm a bit in the trenches today. :c

It's a bit longer with some wedding dress backstory and getting ready, but I think the good part is there. :3 I hope you enjoy! ♥♥♥

.

.

.

The Moment I Saw You

Pairing: Jun-ho x almostwife!fem!reader Summary: And you thought the dress shopping would be hard. The first impression you wished to give your husband-to-be went differently than expected, and you are swimming in a sea of love and bliss. Warnings: Remember that one modded Skyrim playthrough where the player accidentally glitched the cheese-wheel summoning spell and drowned the whole town in cheese? Well, that's what's happening here, but worse. Fluff! Fluff! More fluff! Word count: 2.7k

Everything should have been perfect.

You were picking the dress, and it was taking long. You were standing in the bridal shop, unable to choose, tired, wanting to go home. The person looking back at you in the mirror didn’t look like a bride to you. Even though everything was in place, it felt…wrong. Fake, somehow. Ill-fitting. The shop assistant was very kind, you thought her patient – but even she could see you were not exactly the glowing bride-to-be she was used to. Nor anything like the shiny photographs littered across the front desk.  

Your close friend was there with you, trying her best, you could hear her rummaging through the dresses again, muttering – “puffy sleeves, prom dress, no, no, no, form fitting…” She had the fervour of a very hungry owl searching for that one mouse that got away. “Dumb…long…short…dear god do people actually wear this…oooh, shiny…no…hmmm…” She was already buckling under the weight of all the new ones she picked out for you.

“Hey, Y/N, are you sure you don’t like this one?” She held up a gorgeous gown, white as snow, silk, smooth, reflecting light with a soft plunge of a neckline, and a revealed back. The skirt fell in a mermaid style, you could look like a gorgeous datura flower at the bottom.

“No, no, I’m not sure…not…” You think of yourself in the dress and frown. Your husband to be…Your Jun-ho…should he see you like this? He should see the most beautiful version of you on such a day – and yet you felt more like he was going to run away the moment he laid eyes you.

“Please? How about this one?” Your friend holds up her second choice. The dress is half lace, intricately woven with flowers and soft curling patterns, with off-the-shoulder milky sleeves, a lovely bodice and a small ribbon on the back. The veil would hide more of you, you think. But still. You eye the skirt, its velvety material falling almost straight down. You know you’d be leaving nothing to the imagination and wonder, what if this is all a mistake? What if he made a gigantic mistake, from the very first moment he met you? The first date? The first touch? What if you’ve been unknowingly deceiving him, and now he’ll see you for what you are, what you look like, inside and out? You can’t hide in white.

Your friend walks up to you and gently takes your hand to help you off the platform. She guides you away from the mirrors. As she walks you to the changing room, she is slowly stroking your hand, noticing you are beginning to resemble a vibrating ball of nerves.

“Y/N, if you keep frowning like that, I’m pretty sure you’ll have to pay for extra retouching of all the new wrinkles.” She tried to joke but immediately noticed that it was neither the time nor place and changed her demeanour. You sit, feeling the small bench weigh down with you as she does too, and gently hold your stomach as you speak. You’re unsure which one of you will get the hint first, but you’re pushing it out into the back of your mind as far as you can.

“I just…” You try to speak but the words come out all wrong. “I don’t think he’ll…he’ll be so disappointed.” You sigh and trace both hands down your face to calm down and wipe the stress away, but it clings to every molecule of your skin. “Jun-ho isn’t the type to…” No, all wrong. “It’s not the dresses, it’s me.” Gosh darn it, the tears begin to form. “It’s just me.”

“Hey, hey…darling…” your friend begins stroking the back of your hand as she holds your palm. She is warm and reassuring, but you struggle to believe her.

“It’s ok. It’s ok to be nervous. But you’re beautiful, no matter the dress. To be honest,” she looks around with added drama, as if feigning trying not to be heard, “I don’t think any of the dresses could do you justice and you should just walk out there stark naked if you want them to see how gorgeous you are,” she laughs and squeezes your hand, you look up and let yourself rest with her reassuring, peaceful smile that reaches her lowered eyes now directly resting on you. Although you’re not hugging, you feel held.

Her eyes move to your hand resting on your stomach and you could swear you saw a glint sparkle in their corner and her lashes seem to fall far slower as she blinks, but says nothing. She is so very thoughtful, you think.

“Look, if I know anything about Jun-ho, which isn’t much” she continues, “that man is head over heels for you and the moment you said “yes” I don’t think he’s heard any other words of any language since.”

You let out a small chuckle through another tear. She continues, knowing she’s on a the right path, knuckle punching every guard on the proverbial way.

“I know you’ve walked past this shop year after year, before any of this, and I know you loved the dresses for their beauty, their, elegance, their promise. Y/N, you told me yourself, what was it…winter…”

“Winter dresses,” you chime in quietly. Barely a whisper. Breathing in, you try to remember those cold walks.

“I walked past, and I tried to look at the winter dresses when I knew the shop was closed. The ones with those gorgeous, long skirts, heavy velvety fabric where they met the skin, forming an A shape towards the waist.” You didn’t tell her that you liked both their protectiveness and the fact that if you decided to dramatically fall into a dark body of water, their puffiness and beauty would truly make the moment worth it. You continued after another less shaky but still reserved breath: “Hugged it and up there, the white enveloping the chest – perhaps with lace across the collarbones, but skin hidden, just a touch away…” you let yourself sink into the memory, far before you met Jun-ho, your husband to be. “With that veil that resembled a winter cape from a Russian fairytale.”

��There’s my little Vasilisa,” your friend laughed and stood up. “I’ll be right back, no eloping!”

You sat there, hand still resting on your belly, worried, excited, feeling as if you’re living someone else’s life. Thinking of what Jun-ho must be doing and feeling. Feeling worse and worse, as if you don’t deserve this life.

You quickly pull out your phone to check the time and melt. You have no idea how Jun-ho's timing is always so perfect, but only a minute or two ago, the words:

"Hey, sweet [diminutive version of Y/N], are you ok? Sorry, just wanted to check on you. I hope the dresses are treating you well! Tell [friend] to look after my wife!” light up your screen.

Another message lit up immediately after: “*wife-to-be, I just can’t stop saying it, sorry! I love you, Y/N.”

The smile that spreads from the corner of your mouth and butterflies that saunter from your stomach almost pushed all the anxiety off a cliff. But it still clung to the edge.

Your friend waltzed in and to your utter disbelief, she held up the perfect dress.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The click of your pearl-white heels was the only thing to be heard across the grass. You focused on their soft step and keeping your balance. Your heart was fluttering out of its chest, your stomach was doing its best to leave the building in excitement, in fear, in anticipation – the train of your dress followed you with a soft sliding murmur and the skirt gently touched each flower on the way. You were so glad he chose to do it this way, away from others. Flowers, a shield of wise oak trees. Bird chatter, a gentle breeze on your flushed cheeks, that’s all you truly needed. That, and him.

“I want to be the only one to see you, Y/N. The only one to witness the first sight of my wife.”

The sweetheart neckline clung to your collarbones, the off-the-shoulder fabric neatly stacked in on itself was cuddling your back and shoulders, light and nearly translucent. It rested on your skin as a light lover’s touch. The beautiful, laced veil, floating with you as well as behind you was hiding, yet still accentuating your shining hair with small white flowers nestled between locks. It fell periodically across your back and your shoulders, resting on your collarbones with each step. The heavy fabric of the dress which clung to your waist and fell once more felt cool and warm at the same time, giving you an air of ethereal slow motion. You looked like you belonged in a winter forest. A vision of indescribable, untouchable beauty. The wind gently played with your hair, as if longing to caress you as much as the man in front of you.

As you walked, the form of your husband-to-be materialised in front of you, facing the other way. Although there were many other features around, each quite beautiful, you had no eyes for them. Slowly, meticulously, as if not to scare him, you walked up the small hill towards him and lingered behind him. He hasn’t seen you, but he knows you’re there – his back is giving away the quickness of his breathing and his attempts to steady it down. Please breathe, my love…” Your thoughts leave their nerves at bay and soften into nothing but care and love for him. Finally, as lightly as a feather, you rest your back against his, feeling his breath quicken once more and his entire form tense and release, as if wishing to melt into you.

Jun-ho almost hesitates, but slowly, in what is trying to be a level manner, speaks.

“On the count of three, Y/N?”

You breathe out a tiny chuckle. Ever the pragmatic yet meticulous man.

“One…” you say almost in unison.

Your breath quickens, your heart is racing ten miles a minute, the dress seems to be tighter and tighter and the birds louder and louder yet so far away.

“Two…” he says alone and you whisper with him, mind turning to mushy cotton but enveloped in such a warm feeling of bliss.

Jun-ho takes in a last, heavy breath and as he lets it out…

“Three.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

You turn around in unison and both stand frozen in the moment.

Your eyes meet.

Jun-ho stands utterly transfixed, trying to take you in, all of you, in your entirety at once. But his eyes cannot contain you, so he keeps glitching, his hands that he wished to extend to you the moment you turned, are shivering and tense.

His soft gaze tries to dart and look at you from a different side, angle, but he cannot. You’re…you’re a vision that he cannot and will not disentangle from.

As his eyes are trying to take in every inch of you and warming his heart with every molecule he manages to snatch from the photons reflecting your form, his heart is firmly on its way out of his chest.

You hear nothing but your breath now, you’re looking up into his eyes, inches away from his face, which is frozen and beginning to tear at itself. As if a mask was cracking in nothing but a barrage of indescribable beauty and feeling.

Jun-ho slowly lifts a shivering hand to his mouth and rests it across his face, fingers almost up to his eyes, as if shielding both you and him from the raw, sheer affection that has swept him off his feet – and you, you are both the waves he’s drowning in and the only lifeboat on the sea.

“Y/N…” he barely chokes out in a whisper.

“Y/N…you…you look...” his hand is joined by his other, slowly laying each palm and finger against themselves under his lips. Jun-ho doesn’t know why he cannot control his expression, a wide smile is fighting to be seen, his eyes and heart are tearing at him in springs of bliss and absolute adoration as he wishes to scoop you up to him and melt into you, squeeze you so tight you won’t know where you stop and he begins.

But you are…untouchable as this vision before him. As he steadies himself, he tries to breathe, getting a breath caught in his throat. He finally looks away and you worry, worry your worst fears came true. Worry that the girl sitting in the bridal shop holding her stomach was correct.

But on second look, he is…oh gosh…” The mixture of worry and unexpected relief, bundled up in nothing but affection and deep care threaten to drive you to both laugh and tear up.

“Jun-ho…!” A hushed whisper from your tender lips brings him back to you, turning his head slowly back. He meets your gaze with reserved fear, one eye – look away – second eye – look away – both – remain with you. You see now, with warmth growing in your chest and flutters dancing across your skin, why he was shielding his mouth, then face, then needing to look away entirely. You take both his hands into yours, caressing each finger lovingly as you lower them down to your waist. You envelop his hands, still caressing each knuckle with the ball of your thumb.

“Jun-ho, my love…” you say slowly, levelly, in a low whisper. “My sweet love…it’s alright.”

Jun-ho cannot help it, the sides of his eyes are fully sparkling now. Your eyes are fully transfixed on his own and guide his gaze into you, and he smiles that wide smile you have grown to love so dearly. Jun-ho’s eyes are now fully glistening like still lakes under a full moon.

“I cannot believe you’re here. I---I---cannot believe…it’s…you…with me…My…My…”

Jun-ho cannot speak further but you feel the hands in your tender embrace reciprocate a grip far more secure and loving than you could ever wish for. As protective as it was reassuring. Jun-ho always held you as if you could slip away at any moment, but so tenderly that should you do so, you’d be protected and enveloped in loving warmth to the very end.

“Your wife. My darling. My husband.” Your face softened as you let the words slide across your lips and into the chasm between you, creating the gentlest of bridges.

“My---wife…” Jun-ho lets out an untangled breath of relief, the full smile finally taking over his face. Sparkles turning to tears fall at the same moment, as if a weight both descended from and knocked the air out of him in a single moment.

“You’re…you’re so beautiful. My love. My everything. You are…you are everything.” He’s still smiling as the small specks run down his cheeks. “I love you, Y/N. I love you. I’m so glad. So glad. So happy. I don’t know how to---can I…can I touch you?”

As the lightly shivering voice in contrast to his imposing, beautiful form reached your ears, you lightly caressed his cheek, and he leaned into your palm immediately.

“Of course, Jun-ho.”

Without a second to spare, he lovingly, gently, as lightly as he could in his given disposition, cupped your face and gave you the longest, most tender of kisses. Slowly his hands trailed to your waist, brushing, as if making sure you weren’t going to disappear or turn into a beautiful dream.

Finally, Jun-ho everso carefully took you in fully. Without warning but still tenderly, Jun-ho lifted you up to him, as if you and your dress were as light as the breeze playing with your hair. In one movement he twirled around with you, letting your dress get caught in the moment and carried by motion, his gorgeous wife, his Y/N, nought but his – giggling in his arms, a vision of angelic beauty in his embrace – and he caught himself laughing with you, in nothing but pure bliss. As he let you down just as gently, his touch lingered – he didn’t want to let you go for one second.

Squeezing his hand, you nudged your face closer to his, beckoning without words; he covered the remaining distance.

You felt his lips brush against your own – top, then bottom, then both – before resting on yours fully. Tenderly. Reservedly. Lovingly. You placed a soft kiss where they lingered and Jun-ho finally let himself melt into you fully, kissing you as if you harboured the last bastion of oxygen in the depths of the ocean, as if you were the only thing on this Earth that he wanted, needed, yearned and lived for.    

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

[moonlitstoriess]

Binding Lies- Eris Vanserra x fem! reader (mini-series) Part 6

Summary: When Y/N, Azriel's secret half-sister who lives far away, and Eris Vanserra form a strategic contractual marriage to further their own agendas, what begins as a carefully crafted arrangement soon becomes more complicated. As they pretend to be a perfect couple, the lines between duty and desire blur, and neither is prepared for the consequences.

See masterlist

Previous part

Warnings: some sexual inuendos, nothing explicit or smutty, some angst

The scent of burnt cedar and crisp autumn leaves clung to the palace air, woven between the heavy tapestries and polished stone floors. Each step Y/N took echoed softly against the stone, the weight of the gown she wore brushing against her legs as she followed Lady Autumn through the gilded halls. The torches flickered along the walls, casting long shadows that stretched like skeletal fingers, as if the palace itself was watching.

Samira walked at her side, her presence a steady anchor amidst the quiet but palpable tension surrounding them. Behind them trailed a small entourage—Lady Autumn’s ladies-in-waiting, their skirts whispering against the floor, their hands neatly folded in front of them as they followed in careful, practiced steps. And though the courtiers they passed bowed in respect, their gazes lingered far too long, drinking in the sight of Eris Vanserra’s new bride. Or rather, the woman who had taken the place of the bride Baron had intended for his son.

Y/N held her head high, her face perfectly schooled into regal serenity, but inwardly, she could feel their scrutiny like claws against her skin. They were watching. Assessing. Judging.

Not just her—but Samira as well.

The courtiers’ gazes flickered between them, sharp with curiosity, with whispers passed between them like secrets in the wind. They did not know who Samira was, only that she was a foreigner, a lady-in-waiting of the new princess’s choosing—one who had not been hand-selected by the court. That alone was enough to make them wary, to set the stage for what would no doubt be more quiet resistance to Y/N’s presence here.

Lady Autumn, walking just a step ahead, seemed unaffected by the attention. If anything, she carried herself with a calm, elegant grace, as if the weight of those gazes had long since ceased to bother her. Her crimson skirts swept the floor, the intricate embroidery along her bodice catching the light as she finally spoke, her voice a quiet, measured thing.

“Princess Amira, how was your life back home?”

Y/N did not hesitate. She had practiced this. "I lived in the royal court of Montesere since birth,” she answered smoothly, keeping her voice light but firm. “My mother was a distant relative of the king’s, and I was raised alongside Princess Leone. Though, I did not leave the walls of my estates after my parent's assassination which is why the public never knew of me."

It was mostly true, just bent into a version that fit their lie.

Lady Autumn nodded, her expression unreadable. “So you were close to the princess?”

“Yes.” Another easy answer. But then Lady Autumn turned her head slightly, her golden-brown eyes flickering with curiosity as she looked at Samira.

“And you—what exactly are you to the King of Montesere? A courtier? A noblewoman?”

Y/N’s fingers tensed slightly at her sides. She could feel the intensity of the question beneath the surface, the unspoken demand for details. Samira chose her next words carefully, confidence oozing out of her every answer for it was the truth after all, “My father served the King in his council, and I was raised in the palace. I suppose that made me a courtier.”

A heartbeat of silence passed before Lady Autumn hummed, considering. “Curious.”

Y/N didn’t ask why. Instead, she pressed forward, shoulders straight, expression serene.

But Lady Autumn wasn’t finished. “And how did you and Eris meet?”

The real answer—he came barging into my house and gave me a deal that would save my mother and gain him whatever the hell it was—was, of course, not an option.

Y/N had rehearsed this too. “At court,” she said, voice steady. “Eris was there to negotiate trade agreements with the king. We met at a ball.”

Lady Autumn’s brows lifted just slightly. “And you courted so quickly?”

A small pause. One second too long.

Samira stepped in seamlessly. “The princess was quite admired in Montesere,” she said smoothly, glancing toward Lady Autumn with the perfect balance of respect and unwavering confidence. “It was only natural that Prince Eris saw her worth immediately.”

Lady Autumn’s lips curved in what might have been amusement—or skepticism. But she only nodded. “Of course.”

They kept walking.

The tension, however, did not ease.

Y/N’s thoughts drifted to the throne room. To Baron Vanserra’s cold, scrutinizing stare. To his words—how he had not even tried to hide his disappointment, how he had insulted her position in front of an entire room without so much as a second thought.

She had expected it. She had expected to be tested, to be challenged.

But now, walking through the halls of her new home, she felt the weight of what she had stepped into.

The courtiers, the officials, the aristocrats—none of them were pleased that Eris had brought back a woman of his choosing. None of them were pleased that she was here, wearing the colors of Autumn, standing beside him as his wife.

And she had to prove them all wrong.

“We’re here,” Lady Autumn said, stopping before a set of large, carved wooden doors.

Two guards pushed them open, revealing the chambers within. The room was warm, with a grand fireplace crackling to life, the rich colors of Autumn woven into the tapestries and furniture. Large windows overlooked the sprawling palace grounds, where the trees burned gold and crimson beneath the evening sun.

It was beautiful. And yet, Y/N could not shake the feeling that it was a gilded cage.

Lady Autumn turned to her, her expression softening slightly. “These will be your chambers. If you need anything, you may call for any of the attendants assigned to you.”

Y/N nodded. “Thank you, Lady Vanserra.”

Lady Autumn studied her for a moment longer before stepping forward. And then, to Y/N’s surprise, she reached out and took her hands in her own.

The warmth of her touch was unexpected.

“I know this court,” she murmured, her voice so low that only Y/N could hear. “I know how cruel it can be. If you need help, do not hesitate to ask me.”

Y/N blinked, momentarily caught off guard. She had expected Lady Autumn to be like her husband, like his sons—cold, distant, calculating. But this... this was something else.

Before she could find words, Lady Autumn released her hands and stepped back.

“Rest, Princess Amira. You’ll need your strength.”

Then, with a small nod, she turned and left, her ladies-in-waiting following close behind.

As soon as the doors closed, Y/N exhaled, her shoulders sinking ever so slightly.

Samira, ever the watchful protector, moved closer. “You did well.”

Y/N swallowed. “I slipped.”

Samira’s gaze softened. “And I caught you.”

Y/N let out a quiet, shaky laugh, pressing her fingers to her temple. “Goddess above.”

Samira smirked. “It’s going to be a long battle, Princess Amira.”

Y/N lifted her head, straightening her shoulders once more. “Then we best be ready.”

And as she turned toward the window, gazing out at the Autumn Court below, she knew one thing for certain—

The real game had only just begun.

The moment Eris returned to the Autumn Court, duty sank its claws into him like a starving beast.

Meeting after meeting, demand after demand—his father and his men wasted no time in calling for him, in demanding updates, progress, results.

He had expected as much.

Trade agreements, political alliances, the economic benefits of his marriage—none of it was left unexamined. His father’s advisors combed through every aspect, their cold, calculating eyes assessing every gain and every potential weakness.

Baron had been furious when Eris arrived with a bride of his own choosing. The tight clench of his jaw, the slight curl of his lip—it had been brief, but Eris had caught it. That moment of barely restrained rage, of realization that his son had defied him. That alone had given Eris a sliver of satisfaction, even if it was the easiest part of his plan.

Because the first step had been simple: Choose a wife. But not the one Baron chose.

It was everything else that would require calculation, patience.

His father wanted control. Over his court, over his sons, over him. He wanted to mold Eris into the perfect heir, to keep him leashed, to make him bow.

But Eris had spent his entire life resisting that leash.

And now—he had a new reason to resist.

His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to his wife.

To her.

He had not seen her since they parted at the throne room doors. His mother had taken her under her wing, leading her through the halls while he had been dragged into politics, into strategies and expectations and the endless tedium of men thinking themselves gods.

Was she settling in? Had she felt the weight of every watchful eye on her? Had she realized yet that in this court, every smile, every greeting, every touch of warmth was merely another way to test her?

His fingers tightened slightly around the armrest of his chair.

She was strong. He had seen it in her eyes, in the way she met Baron’s stare without flinching.

But even steel could wear down under the right pressure.

Would she?

Would they?

“Eris.”

The voice snapped him from his thoughts.

He blinked, returning to the dimly lit dining hall, where only he and his younger brother remained. The rest of his father’s council had left for the night, leaving them with a brief, fleeting moment of peace.

Across from him, his brother—one of the less insufferable ones—raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Are you even listening?”

Eris exhaled slowly, regaining his composure. “You were saying?”

His brother leaned back, swirling the wine in his goblet. “I was saying—have you fucked her yet?”

The words hit the air like a slap.

Eris went still.

His brother only smirked, shaking his head. “You know, she does need to bear heirs for you soon after all. That’s all Father ever talks about these days.” He snickered, his smirk widening. “Grandchildren.”

The moment the word left his lips, Eris’ gaze snapped to him, sharp as a blade.

The younger Vanserra barely had time to register the shift before Eris’ voice cut through the room, low and deadly. “What did you just say, you little shit?”

His brother only grinned wider, eyes gleaming with amusement, as if testing how far he could push. “I said—”

Eris slammed his hand onto the table.

The plates rattled, the silverware clattering against the polished wood.

His brother flinched.

Eris leaned forward, his voice a quiet, seething thing. “Don’t you ever ask such questions about my wife. You hear me?”

A tense silence.

His brother’s smirk wavered. But still—he pushed. “Oh, come on, Eris. It’s just a question. Father—”

“I don’t give a damn what Father wants,” Eris cut him off, his voice sharp as flint. “What we do—what she does—is none of your business. None of his. None of anyone’s. Understand?”

The air in the room had shifted, thick with something near tangible.

His brother held his gaze for a long moment, before finally huffing a short, amused breath. “Alright, alright. No need to get so touchy about it.”

Eris didn’t reply.

His fingers curled into a fist against the table.

His brother’s amusement finally faded, and he studied Eris for a beat longer before pushing back his chair and standing. “You’re really serious about her, huh?”

Eris didn’t answer.

Because he wasn’t sure what the answer was.

His brother gave a half-shrug. “Fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

And with that, he strode out, leaving Eris alone in the dim candlelight.

The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting long shadows against the walls.

Eris leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his face, exhaling slowly.

This court was going to devour her.

But he would not let it.

Not while he still drew breath.

By the time Eris came back into their chambers, the fire had been lit, casting the room in a dim, golden glow. A faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, mingling with the rich, earthy notes of the Autumn Court wood.

And there she was.

Sitting before the vanity, brushing some kind of balm onto her cheekbones, her face serene yet focused in the mirror’s reflection.

His gaze swept over her—the silk nightgown draped over her frame, the loose robe barely tied at the waist, the soft glow of candlelight casting delicate shadows along the curve of her collarbone and the slope of her shoulders.

For a moment—just a moment—something unfamiliar stirred in his chest.

He crushed it immediately.

It was late. He was exhausted. That was all.

Eris exhaled through his nose and moved across the room, shrugging off the heavier layers of his formal wear as he went. Through the mirror, her gaze flicked up to him, her fingers pausing slightly over her face before she resumed her motions.

“You’re back late,” she murmured, voice quiet yet even.

He unbuttoned his cuffs. “You’ll find that’s a common occurrence here.”

A faint hum was her only response.

She finished applying whatever it was and leaned back slightly, regarding her reflection. Her gaze flicked back to him as he pulled off his jacket and draped it over the chair near the fireplace.

Her lips twitched. “Your court’s ladies are two-faced vipers, you know that?”

Eris let out a soft, amused breath. “That doesn’t just apply to the ladies, I’m afraid.”

She turned slightly in her chair, crossing one leg over the other as she studied him. “Samira and I spent most of the day enduring a parade of them,” she mused, voice edged with something dryly amused, “coming and going, talking with me nonstop, inviting me for tea, fawning over my dress, my hair, my nails—I swear, one of them almost started crying about how much she loved the shape of my nails.”

Eris chuckled, shaking his head as he sat on the edge of the bed, unlacing his boots.

She smirked. “Clearly, they’re all terribly wounded by the fact that you didn’t choose one of them. Instead, you opted for a foreigner to do the job.”

His lips curled slightly as he glanced at her. “You say that as if I had appealing options.”

She huffed out something between a scoff and a laugh. “I don’t know—some of them were quite persistent. Lady Ilara practically threw herself onto the floor at my feet just to tell me how lucky I am.”

“And did you tell her how terribly unlucky I am?” Eris drawled, smirking.

She gasped dramatically. “I should have! I missed such a good opportunity.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he stood and moved toward the wardrobe, pulling out a more comfortable shirt to change into.

She watched him through the mirror. He could feel her gaze, steady and assessing. Not wary—no, not wary. Not anymore.

By the time he turned back, she had stood as well, slipping off her robe and draping it over the chair.

His throat went a bit dry, but he quickly pushed it aside as he finished getting ready for bed.

The room felt… calmer, he realized. Not tense, not strained—just calm.

By the time he slipped under the covers, she was already nestled on her side, facing him.

He hesitated for a moment, then mirrored her, keeping a respectful distance between them. The space between them felt charged, yet not unpleasant.

She studied him for a moment before whispering, “So?”

Eris arched a brow. “So?”

“How was your day?” she murmured.

He huffed softly, staring up at the ceiling for a moment. “Dull. Tedious. Repetitive.”

Her lips twitched. “Poor prince.”

He turned his head slightly, giving her a flat look. “I had to listen to old men complain about trade routes for three hours.”

She pretended to stifle a yawn. “Sounds riveting.”

“Utterly.”

A small, comfortable silence settled between them.

Then, quietly, she murmured, “I saw your mother again.”

Eris stilled.

“She was kind,” she continued softly. “Made sure I was comfortable. Made sure I wasn’t… alone.”

A pause.

Eris exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling again. “She’s good at that.”

She studied him, then hesitated before whispering, “I like her.”

Eris didn’t reply for a moment.

Then— “Good.”

Silence.

The fire crackled low in the hearth, filling the quiet with a soft, golden hum.

Her gaze drifted slightly downward, as if debating something, before she finally whispered, “Goodnight, Eris.”

He turned his head slightly, just enough to catch the faintest trace of her expression in the dim light.

“Goodnight, princess.”

And for the first time since arriving back in Autumn, he felt at ease.

A loud rustling. The clinking of trays. The sound of heavy drapes being yanked open.

Y/N groaned as a sudden flood of golden light invaded the room, blinding her.

"Good morning, Your Highness," a chirpy voice rang out, far too cheerful for whatever ungodly hour this was.

She barely had time to blink away her grogginess before movement erupted all around her. One servant rushed to the wardrobe, flipping through gowns at a pace that made Y/N’s head spin. Another was already at her vanity, arranging jewelry and perfumes in neat little rows. A third knelt at the foot of the bed, sifting through endless pairs of shoes, and the fourth—the one who had spoken—stood beside her, hands clasped in front of her pristine apron, waiting for Y/N to acknowledge her.

Y/N rubbed her eyes, attempting to process the chaos. "Gods," she muttered under her breath. "This is how they wake royalty? It's a nightmare."

Unfortunately, the main attendant heard her and giggled politely, taking it as a joke. "You have quite the schedule today, Princess Amira," she continued, stepping forward with a tray of warm tea. "After breakfast, you will be meeting some of the esteemed ladies of the court for an informal introduction. The Lady of Autumn has arranged for you to sit with them in the gardens for morning tea."

Y/N stared blankly at her. Morning tea. With new two faced witches? Wonderful.

The servant continued, unfazed. "Following that, the royal tailor will be taking your measurements for new gowns suited to the Autumn Court's colors and customs. Then, before lunch, the palace steward would like to go over the courtly duties expected of you. After lunch—"

Y/N tuned out the rest of the list, already exhausted. She let her gaze drift, her body still sluggish with sleep, until it landed on the other side of the bed. Eris’s side was empty, the sheets long gone cold.

Of course he was already up. He probably hadn’t even slept past dawn.

Suppressing a sigh, she reluctantly let the maids pull back the covers and guide her to the large vanity. They worked around her like she was nothing but a mannequin, scrubbing her hands with rosewater, fixing her hair in intricate knots, and pulling the robe from her shoulders to dress her. She sat stiffly as they tied her corset, adjusted the silk sleeves, and slid jewelry onto her fingers.

It was suffocating.

Y/N wasn’t helpless. She could dress herself. She could tie her own corset, pick out her own gown, slip on her own damn shoes. Yet, they acted as though she were a delicate thing, incapable of lifting a finger.

The feeling grated on her nerves, frustration curling in her gut.

And then—finally, blessedly—her salvation arrived.

"Highness," a cool, unimpressed voice called from the doorway.

Y/N’s head snapped up, a breath of relief leaving her as Samira stepped inside, her sharp eyes sweeping over the room like she was already picking out targets to kill.

The maids hesitated, their movements faltering as their gazes flickered toward the lady-in-waiting. Samira returned the look with a blank stare, assessing them as if she were deciding whether or not they were worth her time.

Y/N wasted no time. She pushed herself up from the vanity, slipping away from the final touch-ups, and walked straight toward Samira. "Lady Samira is with me now," she announced, her voice smooth but firm. "You may all leave."

The head maid stiffened. "But, Your Highness—"

Y/N gave her a patient, expectant look.

The maid hesitated, then swallowed her protests and curtsied. "As you wish, Your Highness."

The others followed suit, bowing and retreating toward the door, though not without throwing Samira a few unmistakable looks of disdain.

Samira, ever unbothered, simply whistled under her breath as the doors shut behind them. "Well," she mused, stepping closer, "they seem friendly."

Y/N snorted as Samira reached for the laces of her dress, tightening them just enough to be comfortable. "I’d rather not be a subject of their gossip this early in the morning."

Samira chuckled. "Oh, give them time. They'll get used to you."

"Time?" Y/N scoffed. "If anything, gossip never stops in Autumn."

"Fair point."

Y/N shook her head, amused despite herself, as she stepped back and let Samira assess her final look. The dark red and gold gown suited her well enough, though she didn’t feel entirely like herself in it. Not yet.

Still, she squared her shoulders and took a steady breath.

"Come on," she said, making her way to the door. "Let’s get this over with. Eris will be at breakfast, right?"

Samira shook her head. "Nope. He was called out early this morning. Some monthly hunting tradition or something. Not sure—I couldn't hear clearly while eavesdropping."

Y/N gasped in mock horror, swatting Samira’s arm. "You absolute menace."

Samira only grinned. "You wouldn’t have known otherwise."

Y/N rolled her eyes as they stepped into the corridor, the tension of the morning easing just slightly with the familiar banter. At least she had one person in this wretched court who made things bearable.

As for the rest of the day… She braced herself for whatever awaited her.

Y/N had expected the court ladies of Autumn to be insufferable, but the sheer magnitude of their two-faced nature was almost impressive. Almost.

They had swarmed her the moment she entered the tea salon, their delicate hands pressing against hers, their high-pitched greetings overlapping like the chittering of birds. Princess Amira, your gown is simply divine! Your skin glows like morning dew! Oh, Montesere must be so grand! Tell us, how do they do their tea ceremonies?

Y/N had plastered on the same polite smile she had worn for years, responding with soft, measured words. Every time one of them tried to poke at her origins, she effortlessly redirected the conversation. My people value tradition, much like the Autumn Court, she would say smoothly, and Oh, you are too kind! whenever someone made a compliment that sounded suspiciously like an insult.

Samira remained close, her presence grounding, though her sharp eyes didn’t miss a single thing. Y/N knew her friend was making a mental list of which of these ladies would be the biggest problems.

Then, the doors creaked open.

The room fell silent.

The Lady of Autumn entered with the effortless grace of a woman who had spent centuries perfecting her role. She was dressed in deep crimson, her auburn hair braided into an elaborate crown, her golden-brown eyes scanning the room. The courtiers practically leaped to their feet, curtsying so deeply Y/N thought some of them might tip over.

Y/N stood as well, inclining her head slightly—not bowing, but acknowledging.

The Lady of Autumn’s lips curved in something that might have been approval or amusement. “Princess Amira,” she said, stepping closer. “I trust you are finding our court to your liking?”

Y/N smiled, keeping her voice light. “It is certainly… lively.”

A few of the ladies giggled nervously.

The High Lady’s eyes studied her carefully. “And how has it been, settling in? I imagine our customs must feel different from what you are accustomed to.”

Y/N knew what she was really asking. Do you know how to survive here?

She folded her hands in front of her, her expression smooth. “Every court has its own ways,” she answered simply. “I’ve found that learning them is part of the charm.”

Lady of Autumn opened her mouth to reply, but before she could speak—

The doors swung open again.

A servant rushed inside, bowing deeply before turning his gaze to Y/N.

“The High Lord wishes to have a moment with the new princess,” he announced. Then his gaze flickered to Samira. “Alone.”

Silence.

A cold, stretched silence.

Y/N’s spine locked. The air in the room changed.

The Lady of Autumn stiffened, her expression betraying nothing, but her fingers curled slightly against the fabric of her skirts. The courtiers were practically vibrating with curiosity.

Y/N’s mind raced. Beron. Alone. Why?

The very idea made her stomach tighten, but she forced herself to remain cool, detached. She tilted her head in a way that feigned mild curiosity. “Of course.”

And with that, she followed the servant out of the room, feeling every set of eyes on her back.

Y/N’s heart pounded with each step as she walked through the halls, the servant leading her toward the sitting room where Beron waited.

What does he want?

She had done nothing to provoke him. She had played her part perfectly. But then again, Beron did not need a reason. He was the kind of man who enjoyed making others squirm.

The halls of the Autumn Court felt colder than before.

When the servant finally stopped in front of a large door, he gave her a brief glance before pushing it open.

Beron was already inside.

He sat in a high-backed chair by the fireplace, his back turned to her, swirling a glass of wine in his hand.

The servant shut the door the moment she stepped in, leaving her alone with the High Lord of Autumn.

Beron did not turn to look at her as he spoke. “Come sit,” he drawled. “Don’t just stand around like a lost little fawn.”

Y/N clenched her jaw but schooled her expression. She moved to the couch opposite him and lowered herself onto the cushions, keeping her back straight, her chin high.

Now that she was facing him, she took in his appearance—his sharp, weathered face, the cold amusement in his eyes as he continued swirling his drink. His fingers were adorned with rings, one of them heavy with an ancient seal.

The silence stretched.

Then Beron finally looked at her.

“I thought,” he mused, “that while Eris is out hunting, why not have a little moment with my beautiful daughter-in-law? Am I right?”

There was something oily about the way he said daughter-in-law, something that made her stomach twist.

She forced a polite smile. “How thoughtful, my lord.”

He hummed, taking a slow sip of his wine. “I must say, you are quite the mystery to us all.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly. “Oh?”

Beron set down his glass, running a finger along the rim. “A foreign princess, raised in a court so very different from ours. And yet, you seem to carry yourself well enough.” He tapped the side of the glass. “Eris always did like to think for himself. I imagine he must have had his reasons for choosing you.”

Y/N knew better than to take the bait. “I would hope so,” she replied smoothly.

Beron chuckled, but there was no warmth in it. His fingers tapped against the arm of his chair. “You have been given much,” he said idly. “A husband, a title, a place in this court.” His gaze flicked to hers, sharp as a dagger. “I do wonder if you are worthy of it.”

Y/N held his stare, even as her pulse quickened. “That is not for me to decide.”

He exhaled a short laugh. “No, I suppose it isn’t.”

The room felt stifling.

Beron leaned back, eyes studying her like a wolf observing its prey. “There will be a feast tonight in your honor,” he said casually.

Instead, she merely inclined her head. “How lovely. I look forward to it.”

Beron smiled. It was not a pleasant sight.

Y/N wanted nothing more than to leave, but she knew standing too soon would be a sign of weakness. So she remained still, keeping her expression serene.

Finally, after a long silence, Beron waved a dismissive hand. “You may go.”

Y/N stood, her heart hammering.

She turned and walked out of the room with measured steps, refusing to let him see the way her hands trembled.

The moment the door shut behind her, she exhaled.

And then, without hesitation, she went to find Samira.

The hunt had ended on a successful note, and yet the air surrounding Eris felt thick, like a storm was brewing on the horizon.

His stallion moved with practiced grace alongside the other riders, each one accompanying him on the way back to the castle. A few of the other high-ranking men from Autumn’s court were scattered among the group—Rylan, the head of the guard; Thorne, the huntsman; and even Lady Lyra, a noblewoman who had insisted on joining despite her delicate nature. They all rode with him, not necessarily as friends, but as necessary parts of the ever-ticking machine that was Autumn Court.

Their conversations were muted at first, the only sounds the rhythmic drumming of hooves against the dirt path and the occasional rustling of the leaves. The scent of pine lingered heavily in the air as the sun dipped behind the tree line, turning the world into a wash of oranges and purples.

Eris couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Maybe it was the silent tension that clung to Rylan’s posture, the way Thorne’s usual jovial demeanor had been subdued, or perhaps it was the way Lady Lyra kept casting sideways glances at him.

“Your Highness,” Rylan spoke up first, his deep voice cutting through the quiet. “What’s your take on the new princess? Any thoughts on how she’ll hold up in court?”

Eris’ eyes narrowed slightly as he considered Rylan’s words. He didn’t have the answer to that question—not yet, anyway. He still didn’t know her well enough to judge, but his duty had been clear from the start: marry her, make it work, and bring the foreign bloodline into the fold.

“She’s adjusting,” Eris said evenly, keeping his voice calm. “Time will tell if she’s capable of handling this court. Most don’t last long, though.” He glanced at Rylan, meeting his gaze with an unreadable expression. “But she’s strong. I’ll give her that.”

“Strong,” Thorne muttered from the back, his usual cynicism heavy in his tone. “Is that what we’re calling her now? Let me know when she starts acting strong.”

Eris’ jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond immediately. He knew Thorne’s type—bitter, always looking for a weakness. His sarcastic remarks were a common fixture.

Lady Lyra, who had been quietly observing the exchange, finally spoke up, her voice soft but cutting. “Perhaps it’s not strength that matters most, but obedience, Lord Eris.”

Eris’ eyes flicked to her, his lips curling into a thin, humorless smile. He wasn’t sure if she was truly making a jab at him or simply voicing an opinion that she thought aligned with the court’s ideals. Either way, it didn’t sit well with him.

“Obedience,” Eris repeated, his voice low, “can only get you so far in this world.” He didn’t bother looking at her as he spoke. “Better to find a balance between strength and control.”

A brief silence followed, and for a moment, Eris was left to brood in the quiet.

It wasn’t until they neared the castle gates that the tension finally broke. The massive iron doors of Autumn Court creaked open, and the cold wind of the evening wrapped around them like a warning. The light from the setting sun bounced off the stone walls, casting an orange glow across the courtyard.

“Dinner tonight,” Lady Lyra remarked, her voice light, as if she were casually changing the subject. “I hear the feast is in honor of your bride. Quite the affair, isn’t it?”

Eris’ brows furrowed as he processed her words. A feast? He had not been informed of any such event. “A feast in her honor?”

“Yes, it seems your father thought it wise to celebrate the union,” Rylan chimed in, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Don’t tell me you weren’t aware?”

Eris wasn’t in the mood for games. “I’ll speak with him later,” he said stiffly. “For now, let’s get inside.”

The group disbanded as they entered the castle, each rider moving to take care of their horses, but the unease remained. Eris’ stomach churned at the idea of a feast thrown for the new princess—he could already hear the whispered conversations, the shallow compliments, the way the court would try to place her in her “proper” position, whatever that was.

Before he could retreat to his chambers, however, Rylan caught his arm as he passed.

“You’ve been distant lately,” Rylan said quietly, glancing around to make sure no one else was nearby. “Is everything truly fine with your bride? She is foreign, you know. She may be... difficult to control.”

Eris’ eyes flashed. “Watch your words, Rylan. You know nothing about her.” He didn’t want to hear any more of this.

The guard looked at him with a half-sigh, half-snicker. “I’m just concerned, my lord. We all know how quickly things can turn south in this place. Better to be prepared than caught off guard.”

With that, Rylan let go of his arm, his eyes full of meaning.

Eris didn’t need to respond. The weight of his words was enough.

He could feel the pressure mounting as he stepped toward the castle doors.

As much as he hated it, he knew this—whatever was coming, whether it was the feast or the scrutiny that would follow—wasn’t going to be as simple as he had hoped. The foreign princess, the new addition to his life... she was already shaking the delicate balance in Autumn Court, and there was no telling what might happen next.

But one thing was certain. He would have to navigate this with every bit of cunning he had. His future—and hers—depended on it.

Eris strode into their chambers, the heavy door creaking slightly as it swung open. The room was dimly lit, the low, golden light of the evening sun spilling through the windows. He barely registered the sound of the door closing behind him, his attention immediately drawn to the figure standing near the window.

She was standing tall, poised as if the very air around her bent to her will. The light danced on the fabric of her dress, the hue of burnt orange and bronze seeming to glow against her skin. It wasn’t the rich velvet or the silks of Autumn’s court, but the delicate chiffon, light yet firm, that caught his eye. Its sheer beauty was accented by the fall of sparkling crystal autumn leaves that clung to the fabric, scattered as though they had been caught mid-flight, frozen in time. The way it shimmered in the fading sunlight—it was intoxicating, beautiful, like the very essence of the season itself had been captured and woven into the fabric.

Eris couldn’t help but stare. The sight of her—the way the soft fabric clung to her body, the curve of her silhouette enhanced by the delicate shimmer of the leaves—struck something deep within him. He could feel a slow burn starting in his chest, his eyes tracing every inch of her, lingering on the swell of her breasts, on the way the gown fit perfectly, highlighting her form in ways that made his breath hitch slightly. His mind was awash with a thousand thoughts, the heat building, pulling him closer without even realizing it.

She is breathtaking, he thought, unable to stop himself from drinking in the sight of her, his pulse quickening.

For a moment, he thought he might just stand there, lost in the picture she presented—until the sound of her voice cut through the air, sharp and cold, like ice shattering glass.

“Is this how it’s always going to be?” she asked, her tone laced with frustration, her words like a slap across his face.

Eris blinked, his thoughts snapping back into place as if his body had finally caught up with his mind. He stared at her, fully aware of the tension in the air, the electricity between them. His eyes flicked to her face, noticing the hard set of her jaw, the fire in her eyes—her gaze full of frustration and something darker. He could see the small muscles in her shoulders tense, the rigid line of her back.

He entered the room fully, closing the door behind him with a soft thud, but he did not take another step towards her. Instead, he met her gaze with controlled intensity, his expression neutral.

“What do you mean?” he asked slowly, his voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and something else—something sharp, something that didn’t quite sit right.

Her eyes narrowed, her lips tightening as she took a step toward him, her body stiff, as though every movement was deliberate. “I mean, you come back in the evening and leave again at the crack of dawn. I barely see you during the day,” she snapped. “You’re always buried in your duties or whatever it is that you do... and I’m left here, alone.”

Eris felt a twinge of something sharp at the words, but he held his ground, masking the annoyance creeping up inside him. He gave a nonchalant shrug, as if it didn’t matter, as if it were all part of the arrangement.

“You knew what this was, Y/n,” he said with a cold smile. “You wanted this position. This is the life you chose.”

The words hit her like a slap. Her lips twisted with anger, and Eris could see her breath catch in her chest. Her eyes sparked with fury as she shot back, voice a low hiss, “Don’t you dare make it sound like this is my fault. You’re the one who chose this too, remember?”

He couldn’t help the bitterness that seeped into his smile. “It’s not about blame. It’s about survival. We’re both here to reach our own goals, Y/n. That’s all that matters.”

Her eyes burned with something deeper than anger now, and her jaw tightened as she looked at him. “Well, let me make it clear, Eris,” she spat, her voice steady despite the venom. “This isn’t how I pictured my life.”

She turned sharply, her heels clicking on the floor as she crossed the room, looking out the window into the sprawling gardens. Eris stood motionless, watching her, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts, his temper simmering beneath the surface.

And then the words spilled from his lips, low and filled with meaning. “Remember, this isn’t forever,” he said, his voice colder than he intended. “Once we’ve both reached our goals, we’re done.”

Her eyes flicked to him, the briefest flash of hurt crossing her features before she schooled her expression into something unreadable. She took a steady breath, her back straightening. “Fine with me,” she shot back, her voice icy, “I’m not the one holding you here, am I?”

Eris felt a sharp sting at the edge of her words, but he refused to let it show. His jaw clenched, and he stepped toward her slowly, his voice laced with challenge. “Why do you care so much, Y/n? This is fake anyway. Shouldn’t you be relieved I’m not all over you?”

She turned, her gaze meeting his head-on. “Relieved? No,” she bit out, stepping closer. “I’m not relieved. I’m frustrated, because this isn’t what I signed up for either. You want to keep pretending this is a marriage? Fine. But stop treating it like we’re strangers. We’re stuck here, together, whether we like it or not.”

The words hung between them, thick and heavy. Eris could feel the tension crackling in the air, like static before a storm. But before he could reply, she spoke again, her voice colder than ever.

“You know,” she said with a mocking laugh, “your father called for me today. Alone.”

The words hit him like a physical blow, his blood running cold in an instant. His protective instincts flared to life, and in two long strides, he was standing directly in front of her, towering over her smaller frame. His eyes roamed over her quickly, taking in every inch of her, searching for any sign of injury.

“Did he hurt you?” he demanded, his voice sharp, rough. “Did he do anything to you? I swear to the gods, if he threw another insult your way—”

She cut him off before he could finish, her voice cool and collected. “Relax, Eris. I handled him well. He didn’t touch me.”

But the frustration still lingered in his chest, burning hotter now, at the thought of anyone daring to mistreat her. “Handled him well?” he repeated, his eyes still assessing her, his body tense with the lingering threat of violence.

Y/n looked at him, a flicker of something in her eyes, but she gave a small, indifferent shrug. “He tried to play his games, but I didn’t let him. I know how to deal with men like him.”

She stepped past him then, brushing against him lightly. Eris’ eyes followed her every movement, his heart hammering in his chest. She was already walking toward the balcony, her voice cutting through the air one last time.

“Get dressed,” she said sharply. “We have a feast to attend in the gardens.”

Eris’ breath hitched slightly as he watched her, his mind a jumble of conflicting emotions. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but the words died on his tongue.

“Y/n—”

But she cut him off again, her voice colder than before. “Be quick. I haven’t got all day.”

With a heavy sigh, Eris turned on his heel and walked to his wardrobe. He could feel the weight of his frustration, his protectiveness, and the growing distance between them, but he pushed it down for now. There were more important things to focus on.

As he began to strip off his hunting gear, his thoughts raced. He didn’t know where this marriage was going, but one thing was certain—he couldn’t afford to lose control, not now, not with everything on the line.

Y/n could feel the tension in the air between her and Eris as they walked side by side toward the grand gardens. His arm was draped around her waist, the touch deliberate, for show. It was all for the guests, all for the pretense of unity, of togetherness—a marriage that no one had asked for but one that they were both forced to live through. Every step, every breath between them, was calculated, a performance meant to hide the chasm that was growing wider with each passing day. Her pulse quickened as they drew closer to the crowd, and the looming presence of Beron and the Lady of Autumn at the center of it all was enough to freeze her heart.

The garden was beautifully designed, a sprawling maze of hedges, fountains, and lanterns that flickered softly in the gentle breeze. The trees were trimmed meticulously, their leaves glowing in the twilight with the rich colors of autumn, their deep greens and oranges creating a lush tapestry of warmth. The air was slightly cool, carrying with it the subtle scent of jasmine, and the music that drifted from the strings of a harp and the lilting notes of a flute gave the entire scene an almost surreal feel.

As they entered, the gaze of the gathered guests fell upon them immediately, like a spotlight on a performer. Eris’ grip tightened slightly around her waist, grounding her, and for a moment, it was a surprising comfort. She had expected it to be more of a manipulation, a power play, but instead, his hand seemed to anchor her to the present, to the moment they were in. Despite the simmering anger still inside her, despite the distance between them that no touch could close, she couldn’t help but feel a small, fleeting sense of security in his presence.

But that comfort was quickly overshadowed by the weight of the eyes upon them. She could feel Beron’s eyes, cold and calculating, from across the room, his gaze sharp, like a hawk waiting for its prey to make a move. The Lady of Autumn stood beside him, regal and poised, watching them with an expression that was all too familiar—one of expectation, one of judgment.

Y/n couldn’t help but feel exposed under their scrutiny. Despite the elegant smiles on her face, the practiced grace she displayed, the poise she was expected to maintain, her mind was racing. She was acutely aware of every movement she made, every glance exchanged, every word spoken, as she and Eris moved deeper into the crowd, mingling with the other members of Autumn Court.

Eris led them through the guests, his hand steady on her waist, their movements a dance of diplomacy and pretense. People greeted them, raised their glasses in silent cheers, their words light, but underneath it all was a sense of weight. They were all watching, waiting to see how the newlyweds would behave. Y/n kept her chin high, her posture perfect, her smile unflinching. She spoke to guests with practiced ease, answering questions, laughing at the right moments, exchanging pleasantries as if this was her life—her real life. And as she did, she felt Eris at her side, the two of them a unit, a perfect match on the outside, if only the world knew the truth of it.

Samira lingered behind them, her sharp eyes always scanning the room, ever vigilant, though she stayed out of the way for the most part, as if she were there in case she was needed.

The feast stretched on, the music changing from one lively tune to another, the steady rhythm of the instruments filling the space with warmth. Servers brought platters of fruits, cheeses, and roasted meats, the decadent smell of each dish hanging in the air, but it all felt distant, as if nothing could quite reach her. The soft hum of conversation and laughter buzzed around her, but Y/n felt like she was floating, disconnected from it all, watching from a distance as her thoughts churned.

At some point, a waltz began, the melody slow and graceful, perfect for the evening’s atmosphere. Eris, ever the tactician, moved beside her without a word, his hand extended toward her. A dance—another moment for them to perform their unity. And although her heart tightened at the thought, she allowed her hand to fall into his, letting him pull her onto the floor.

The crowd parted slightly as the two of them joined the others, the eyes of every noble in the garden fixed on them as they took their first step. The smooth movement of the music wrapped around them, the notes pulling them into a rhythm. Eris' hand rested gently on the small of her back, his other hand clasped with hers, holding her firmly as their bodies began to move together, their steps matching.

At first, there was nothing but silence between them, save for the music. Her breath came in short, controlled bursts as they glided across the floor. She kept her head high, her expression cool, but in the back of her mind, her frustration simmered.

The tension between them was palpable—unspoken, but so thick it could almost be touched. Eris said nothing at first, allowing the silence to stretch between them like a thin wire, tight with unsaid words.

But then, his voice broke through, low and hushed. “You know, we need to do this right. Keep your eyes on me,” he murmured, his grip tightening around her waist. He pulled her a fraction closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Pretend it’s real. Sell it, Y/n.”

Her eyes flicked to his, her jaw tightening. “I’m not some performer you can manipulate, Eris,” she snapped back, her voice quieter but no less cutting. “This is your game, not mine.”

He ignored her response, his gaze hard, his expression unreadable. Slowly, his hand shifted, pulling her closer until their bodies were pressed together—closer than before, closer than was strictly necessary for the dance. The heat of his body against hers sent a jolt of awareness through her, her breath catching, even as her mind screamed to resist.

Y/n couldn’t stop the gasp that left her lips, her chest rising and falling with the sudden tension in the air between them. “Eris,” she whispered, her voice tight. “Everyone is watching—”

He cut her off with a sharp, impatient shake of his head. “Fuck everyone,” he growled, his eyes flashing with something dangerous. “Keep your eyes on me. We’ve got to sell this. You don’t want to make it worse, do you?”

The words stung, and a flash of anger flared in her chest, but she didn’t allow it to show. She refused to let him see how deeply his words cut. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from meeting his gaze, holding it, as their bodies moved in perfect synchrony, their steps smooth and flowing, their faces a mask of composure and grace.

She kept her voice steady, even as her heart pounded in her chest. “You’re so damn infuriating, Eris,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

But he only grinned, that same cold, maddening smile that seemed to mock her, the one that made her want to hit him in the chest. “I know,” he said simply, his eyes glinting with something dark.

For a long moment, their dance continued, their movements locked together, the tension between them growing with each passing second. The crowd watched with rapt attention, their eyes flicking between the two of them, as if trying to see beneath the polished veneer of perfection they presented.

And then, as the song neared its end, Y/n could feel the heat of Eris’ body pressing against hers, his breath warm against her ear. Her chest rose and fell, her mind whirling with a storm of thoughts, and she couldn’t stop the one thought that bubbled to the surface: I hate how he makes me feel like this.

But the dance came to an end, the music slowing, and she pulled back, stepping away from him. Her heart was still racing, her breath shaky, though she refused to let it show. She met his gaze one last time, eyes flashing, before the moment was over.

And just like that, they were done, their charade continuing as the night went on, the tension between them still alive and thriving, even in the quiet moments when no one was watching.

The music had quieted down, leaving only the soft murmur of conversation in the air. Y/n and Eris had found a quiet corner of the garden to sit, away from the prying eyes of the guests, but the silence between them still felt heavy, thick with unspoken tension. Her gaze drifted, half-lost in thought, as she tried to focus on the surroundings, the flickering lanterns casting soft shadows across the manicured lawns, the slow swirl of the breeze that carried the scent of jasmine. But none of it mattered. Her mind was elsewhere, elsewhere entirely, tangled in thoughts of the past and the future, of what had brought her here and what she was being dragged toward.

She didn’t even hear Eris shift beside her until his voice cut through the haze of her thoughts, sharp and clear. “We will attend another event in two days.”

She blinked, shaking herself out of her reverie, turning her head toward him with a long, exasperated sigh. “Another event?” she muttered under her breath, irritation lacing her voice. “Please, I can’t do it anymore. All these pompous fae coming up to me, pretending to care, fawning over every word I say... It’s exhausting.”

Eris’ gaze flicked to her, his expression unreadable, before he let out a small breath. “It’s not Autumn this time,” he said, his voice calm, but there was a new edge to it—one she couldn’t quite place.

Y/n froze mid-sentence, her mind instantly going blank as she turned to him, her eyes wide with confusion. “What do you mean ‘not Autumn’? What’s... what’s happening?”

“The other six,” Eris said, with the same measured calmness, like it was no big deal. But for Y/n, the world seemed to stop, the words crashing into her like a cold wave, drowning out everything else around her.

Her heart slammed against her chest, and a shudder worked its way down her spine. She turned her body toward him, her breath caught in her throat. “What—what do you mean ‘six’? As in—”

Her voice faltered, the words slipping from her mouth with difficulty. “As in... the other six courts?”

Eris’ brow furrowed in slight confusion as he looked at her, clearly unsure of why she was suddenly so unsettled. “Yes,” he replied, his voice still even, “you’re the new bride of my court, Y/n. And that means the other high lords, the other courts, need to come together to celebrate. To congratulate you, meet you... there has to be a ball.” His voice was matter-of-fact, as if this was simply the next step in a long series of expectations.

But to Y/n, it felt like the ground had been ripped out from beneath her. The words echoed in her mind, and her throat tightened as she tried to swallow. She could feel her breath growing shallow, her pulse quickening, and her mind spinning wildly, desperately trying to grasp onto something, anything, to hold herself together.

“So...” Her voice wavered, and she hated how weak it sounded. She couldn’t stop it. “So does that mean everyone from Night... will be there?”

Eris paused, clearly confused by her sudden shift in demeanor. He turned to look at her, his frown deepening. “Yes...?” He sounded uncertain, as if he couldn’t understand why this was such a shock to her. “What the hell is going on, Y/n? What’s with all these questions?”

But Y/n didn’t hear him. She wasn’t listening. Her vision blurred, the edges of the garden fading into a wash of nothingness as the weight of what he had just said sank in, deeper and deeper until it felt like it was crushing her.

Azriel.

The name struck her like a dagger, slicing through the fog in her mind. Her secret brother, the one she had never known. The one she had never met. The one who didn’t know she existed, who would soon stand in front of her as a stranger.

Her breath came in ragged, shallow bursts, her chest tightening as the truth settled in. She would be in the same room as Azriel. She would look into the face of the brother she had been denied her entire life.

Her mind reeled, emotions she couldn’t name surged through her, bubbling up like a storm trapped inside her chest. There was fear—immense, suffocating fear. The thought of meeting him, of seeing the shadows of her bloodline, of being so close to him, but still so far away... it was too much.

What if he hates me? What if he knows? What if he sees the truth in me, that I don’t belong here, that I’m not his?

She could feel her hands trembling, and she gripped the edge of her seat, as if it might anchor her to reality, but the world felt too vast, too impossible to comprehend.

Would he look at her with recognition? Would there be a flicker of something in his eyes—something that told him, that told her, that they were the same? Or would he simply see her as nothing more than another stranger, another face in the crowd of high lords and ladies?

Y/n’s breath hitched, and she turned her gaze away from Eris, though her eyes saw nothing. Everything around her became a blur, the laughter of the guests, the soft clink of glassware, the distant hum of music—all of it faded into a deafening, overwhelming buzz. She felt like she was drowning in the noise, her thoughts spiraling out of control.

Azriel.

Her half-brother.

And yet, she had never once laid eyes on him.

She had never once had the chance to know him, to understand the person he was, to discover what family—if any—she had left in him. And now, she would be forced to look him in the eye, forced to pretend that she didn’t know exactly what it felt like to be so far apart from your own blood, to live in a world where the bonds of family meant nothing.

Her chest tightened further, her body betraying her with the tremor she couldn’t control. And still, she felt trapped, stuck, as if she were caught between two worlds, neither of which she belonged to.

She didn’t hear Eris speak again, didn’t hear his voice rise in confusion. All she could hear was the rapid beating of her heart, the rush of blood in her ears, and the image of Azriel—his dark wings, his haunted eyes, his presence that would soon be so close she could touch it, yet so far from her grasp.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Her mind was full of questions, full of fear, full of everything she was too afraid to face.

And as her body began to tremble with the weight of it all, she heard Eris again, but it felt like a distant echo.

“Y/n?”

But she didn’t answer.

Her world was spinning, her heart hammering, and the only thing she could hold onto in that moment was the realization that soon, she would meet Azriel for the first time in her life—and she wasn’t sure she was ready for what that meeting might bring.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @batboyslutt @k-godling @littowl @jaybbygrl @kissesfromnovalie @talesofadragon @tele86 @annamariereads16 @circe143 @yukimaniac @babypeapoddd @darkbloodsly @hauntedstudentobservationus @i-know-i-can @12358 @holb32 @herondale-lightworm

[skyloftian-nutcase]

@starwolfie asked me to elaborate (thank you for indulging me lol), so long rambles under the cut :D

So, basically, the era of the Imprisoning War takes place in Hyrule’s ancient past. TotK shows a variety of clothing styles for that ancient past, such as Greco-Roman kind of stuff for the commoners and then… idk random fantasy stuff for the Zonai with like Inca influence lol. I tried to stick a bit to totk style since this era is the same one, and I just wanted to have fun of my own. Also had to bear in mind climate, because like… those totk fashions don’t feel like they jive much with Hyrule’s weather patterns in “modern” day Hyrule of the games. Like I ain’t wearing a sleeveless mid-calf tunic dress in 50 degree weather, y’all! Especially if you add cold rain to the mix. Zelda, Link, literally everyone in modern Hyrule dresses in layers because of the weather.

So with all that in mind, a few points. One, Hyrule in the ancient past was apparently warmer, which is feasible since we have no way of knowing how many thousands of years have passed (for the purposes of my story, it’s about two or three thousand years between Imprisoning War and Hyrule Warriors, and it’s about ten thousand years between Age of Calamity and one of those eras). Two, clothing and technology would have been fairly simple way back then until the Imprisoning War revolutionized Sheikah technology, which would also alter how clothes can be made and therefore change fashion. Three, I had to bear in mind how Hyrule Warriors’ fashion would also be a continuation of what the Imprisoning War had.

So! My own takes on their fashion, then, for the Imprisoning War era.

For Hyrule in general, commoners usually wore simple tunics/tunic dress. The shorter the attire, the more active the lifestyle, typically. Sleeves weren’t really a thing unless it was regularly cool/cold (the tunic was legit just a rectangular cloth with a hole for the head and arms, cinched at the waist with a belt and embellished with layering of belts depending on the region; more formal attire included the overlaying toga-looking over tunic for men and layering tunics/dresses for women), if it got chilly you’d just wear a cloak or a wrap. Sandals, like the ancient ones in totk, were fairly common, or no shoes at all depending on the region and the people. Now, it did get cold in places, so pants were a thing, but they were pretty shapeless and baggy, and were tied in place with cloth to be more fitted around the calves and ankles, and then the thongs for the shoes were simply tied overtop. Places with snow were typically where you’d find something more akin to boots.

Now, things got a little different at the castle because richer/more important people had access to more. Head coverings didn’t matter to the common folk, but boys and girls alike usually covered their heads in noble families, a leftover of the image of Hylia wearing a veil and the Hero always having a hat. Layering was far more common in the castle, with Princess Zelda often wearing a simple tunic dress underneath a more complicated fabric, sometimes something with wide sleeves in the winter or something that lays over like a sash and skirt in warmer weather.

The Sheikah are a different matter. They’re generally very Japanese coded, so I did some digging on ancient Japanese styles. The Sheikah are very incorporated into Hyrule’s affairs but alas their own distinct cultural group, so there’s some blending there. Sheikah warriors usually wear some variation of an under tunic with a sleeveless version of an uwagi (kimono short top used in martial arts) worn over it, all tied by an obi. They wear trousers, which are baggy and shapeless, tied just below the knee, and closed shoes. When just doing guard duty that’s their outfit, but they have armor they can layer overtop as well. They also commonly wear bracers. In their casual attire, they wear something far more akin to the familiar kimono/hakama or kimono top paired with a full length skirt. They didn’t start wearing more form fitting kimono, like what you see in botw/totk, until Sheikah tech improved.

As for detail/embellishment/ornamentation, jewelry is not very common in Hyrule. Commoners hardly, if ever, have any. Nobility typically use earrings as their main form of jewelry. It’s a status symbol - the more earrings, the more status you have. Royalty wears four on each ear by adulthood. Children typically only have one or two ear piercings, gaining more as they grow if their station allows. Sheikah traditionally pierce their ears at their coming-of-age ceremony, a tradition that caries on through the millennia. The Hyrulian royal family and the sages commonly have skin paint with symbols depicting their people’s history, as they are living embodiments of carrying on Hyrule as a whole and its traditions.

Now, the Gerudo are entirely different. (Firstly, what the heck is their culture based on lol, they’re Middle Eastern coded but dress like belly dancers. Sigh. I digress. I decided to mix Turkish, Egyptian, and a little bit of Indian culture together for them.) They like fashion and bright colors and they love jewelry. But their climate is quite harsh, either blazing, dry heat or frigid nights. So while they’re famous for their jewel-decorated halter tops, that’s really only formal military attire that the royals wear when going abroad. More common attire consists of baggy pants based on Turkish şalvar in bright colors paired with a choli blouse, or the same blouse with a full length skirt. They also often wear headdresses adorned with brass (gold for the nobles) and beads, with silky veils. For more formal occasions, they would wear sheath dresses, dresses that were wrapped from bodice to below the knees with two straps holding them up. A looser form of this was often preferred for nursing mothers because it allowed easy access for the baby. As for the colors, the Gerudo would make their clothes in every bright color they could. And they would wear all the jewelry and extra fabrics, like sashes, in the world to embellish. And no, none of them wore heels - their shoes were flat or they were barefoot while just chilling at home. But they were designed to help them get through the sand. As for the men (husbands were allowed to live in the desert with the women in this era), they typically wore either the same baggy pants as the women or a skirt length loincloth that was essentially a shendyt (ancient Egyptian standard wear for dudes). Oftentimes men would also wear a sleeveless top that could either be worn as a triangular shawl or just over one shoulder (Ganondorf’s preferred way). For the royal men, this top was usually made of silk.

For battle, the women could wear their colorful armor depending on where they were fighting, but in hotter or wetter climates it was best not to be cooking in metal, so they would switch to leather armor instead.

After the war, Sheikah technology made major changes throughout Hyrule, and the utter near annihilation of the Gerudo wiped out much of their rich fashion culture. Hyrulians could wear more form fitting clothes while Gerudo wore whatever simple shapes they could throw together to survive.

Okay, NOW I’m done talking, I have chores to do LOL

I wanna talk about the fashion of the Imprisoning War but that means I’d have to draw more and I don’t have time for that and I have other things to do but I’ve been thinking about it for like a month and—

[thebirdqueen]

Oh I forgot to post this...based on a B-day present I got from a friend

[Click for better quality]

[majouartings]

PLAYABLE ZELDA PLAYABLE ZELDA PLAYABLE ZELDA PLAYABLE ZELDA PLAYABLE ZELDA PLAYABLE ZELDA PLAYABLE ZELDA *inhale* PLAYABLE ZELDA PLAYABLE Z

[c0rpsedemon]

one thing i'm trying to keep in mind while designing the cast of the resurrectionists is that they're all constantly changing clothes + ideally there will be ppl cosplaying these characters someday and i'd much rather see morana cosplays done in old btssb pieces that technically aren't things she wears than morana cosplays in cheap mass-produced versions of her canon outfits from aliexpress so i'm trying to make them all recognizable by a defining feature or two + fashion (sub)style alone

[thatonegreenleaf]

~leg prosthetics~ sock category/ tattoo option!

This was a channel point redemption by a community member on my twitch that was wanting a leg prosthetic/prosthesis with a floral design (there are 5 floral swatches, zul!!) There is always space for more accessibility items in game, so I hope you enjoy these!

-

LEG PROSTHESES:

♥ 45 swatches

♥ base game compatible!

♥ the sock category version is 3d and therefore only compatible with shorts, skirts, etc. But it is compatible with most shoes!

♥ the tattoo version is flat and not as realistic, but is compatible with all clothes, shoes, and everything else. I recommend using this one (either on its own or paired with the sock version) so your sims can still have their accessibility aid with long pants, boots, no magical legs reappearing when they take a shower, etc.

♥ comes in masculine frame, feminine frame, tattoo, and merged options.

-

Follow me on twitch!

Support me on patreon!

DOWNLOAD THE LEG PROSTHETICS ON SIM FILE SHARE! 

-

TOU: do not redistribute, reupload, or claim my cc/CAS rooms/presets as your own! recolour/convert/otherwise alter for personal use OR upload with credit. (no paywalls)

I am wcif friendly if you want anything seen here!

I DO CUSTOM CAS ROOM (and other) COMMISSIONS! fill out my commission form ♥

[cherriesncinnamon]

forgive me / father charlie x fem!reader

synopsis: after recently becoming involved with the catholic church, you soon start having inappropriate fantasies about your priest. desperately wanting to atone, you confess your sins.

warnings/tags: handjob, unprotected sex (don't try this at home), mentions of self harm/repentance, priest x reader (i mean no harm to the catholic community, this is just fiction).

word count: 1.3k.

a/n: sooooo🥰 i'm obsessed with nicholas chavez. i'm not gonna lie, i haven't seen grotesquerie fully, but after seeing his scenes i had to write a one shot about father charlie. this is completely and utterly feral. me when i need him biblically.

link to another father charlie piece i've done due to popular demand!!

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

I've never been a religious person. I've always believed that a higher power is unprovable, leading to my agnosticism. My mother is a devout Catholic, but she's never particularly pushed her beliefs onto me. That was until recently when she threatened to disown me if I refused to come to church for another Sunday.

The people are insufferable, the sermons are unstimulating, and I cannot bear knowing I could be doing something much more exciting with my morning. I sit at the very end of the pew, arms crossed in anguish, awaiting a middle aged, balding priest to appear and preach for an hour. But to my surprise, a much younger version emerges instead. Dark thick hair, darling brown eyes, and a charming smile. My eyes widen with intrigue at the strikingly handsome man before me. He begins to speak, walking up and down the rows of people, truly passionate about what he's saying. I'm paying attention to the words, but not so much the message. After the communion and the drinking of the wine, my mother and I mingle for a bit, chatting uselessness to the bored housewives. Church is the only liberating part of their week, and now I know why.

As if by a miracle of God, I become Catholic overnight. My mother is shocked at my interest in coming to church the following week, and the week after that, and that week after that. Each time I see him, my desire intensifies. Knowing that he has taken a vow of celibacy only entices me more. I imagine him bending me over the pews, his singular ring leaving an indent in my upper thigh. I need to confess. I need to release this demon that is plaguing my thoughts.

On a stormy Friday evening, I make my way to the back of the church, placing three hesitant knocks on his office door. The rest of the building is vacant, candle light being my only source of sight. His voices seeps through the door, permitting me to enter.

"Ah, Miss Y/L/N, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He welcomes me in with a warm smile, putting down the pen he was holding to usher me to sit.

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. I- I've come to confess." I swallow, stuttering my words in fear. Father Charlie cocks his head in question.

"I see. Anything you say should be in confidence, your confession will be safe with me." He replies, nodding in reassurance. I fiddle with the hem of my skirt in anticipation, heat rising to my cheeks from simply being alone with him. I drape my long hair over my shoulder and clear my throat.

"I've been having impure thoughts, Father."

"Okay. And what do these thoughts detail?" He probes, clasping his hands together on the wooden desk. The Bible sits closed next to him; I can feel it judging me.

"Sexual thoughts. I want to pleasure myself, but I know I can't." I grip at my throat which has become tight, my stomach tingling with the remembrance of my fantasies. Charlie loosens his Roman collar, eyes searching the room for anything to look at besides me.

"I think about you, Father. You punishing me for my sins, taking me, sliding yourself into me." I spill, cheeks on fire and wine red. Father Charlie is quick to stand up from his chair, pacing to the other side of the room.

"I have taken a vow. Please do not seduce me." He begs, reaching for the door handle.

I stand in front of him, his tall frame towering over me, eyes fixated on mine. His chest is heaving, lips slightly parted as he breathes. Standing on the tips of my toes, I whisper.

"Don't you want to know what it feels like, Father? Just once?" My bottom lip lightly grazes his ear lobe, increasing his breathing pace. Our faces are mere centimetres apart, and I'm using all of my might to stop myself tasting him.

"I cannot abandon my faith, I mustn't." He insists, expression pained and frustrated. His brow is furrowed, forehead glazed in sweat. I can tell he is holding himself back with all his strength, and I'm feeling brave.

I take my fingertips and slide them over his clothed cock, smiling as it hardens under my gentle touch. Charlie goes to remove my hand, but quickly retracts when I speed up, using my palm to add pressure. I slowly undo his leather belt, lifting the waistband of his black pants. Taking him in my grasp, I stroke his thick length, watching in euphoria as his head tips back in bliss. His hands seek the stability of the doorframe for support, his knees weakening more every second.

"Feel me." Slipping my panties to the side, I guide his fingers to my pussy, slick with my arousal, begging for contact.

"Oh, forgive me Lord." He cries out, teasing my entrance with his digits while I excite his tip dripping pre-cum with my thumb. He stares at me in awe when I lick myself off his fingers, cock throbbing, veins pulsing blood into him until he's unbearably hard.

Hungry for my kiss, he devours my lips, biting my bottom lip playfully. Our tongues slide across one another, his hands gripping the sides of my face. He tastes like the Merlot we have at communion; sweet and fruity. My hands snake around his neck, twirling the thick locks of hair at the nape. His lips take interest elsewhere, peppering erotic pecks across my jaw, to my neck, and to my chest. I unbutton my white dress shirt, revealing my braless breasts. His eyes widen, immediately manhandling and kissing the supple skin.

"I want to feel you inside of me. Please, Father." I moan, perching myself on the edge of his desk, skirt hiked up to my hips. I spread my legs wide, fully revealing myself to him. He exhales in defeat, slotting himself between me.

Charlie rests his hands on either side of me on the desk while I line up his cock to my entrance, pushing my hips towards him. Grabbing my waist, he enters me, his length filling my walls like a glove. His voice groans deeply against my neck, his hand pressed on my lower back for support. His thrusts start off slow and juvenile, but quickly speed up to a pace we both can't take for long. I wrap my legs around him, pulling him in deeper. I moan sweet noises with every movement and caress, realising that this is better than I could've imagined.

"You feel so good, this feels so good." He sobs, nails digging into my hips so hard they leave streaks of blood. The cross around his neck swings in my face, reminding me of how sin can feel so good.

Waves of pleasure wash over me, the coil inside of me tightening by the second. I pull the back of his head close to me as my climax arrives. I bite his lip hard in satisfaction, tasting his blood on my tongue. It's not long before he follows in a moaning mess, burying his head into my chest, grabbing my breast as his warm cum fills me.

It takes a minute of getting our breaths back to move. I use a tissue to wipe his seed off my thighs. Father Charlie hastily redresses, fixing his collar and clutching his necklace.

"Lord, forgive me. Forgive me for this cardinal sin. Forgive me for enjoying it." He prays on his knees, staring up at a portrait of God. I place my hand on his back, feeling some guilt.

"I need to repent. You need to punish me." He says, picking up his leather belt from the floor and placing it in my hands.

"How can something that feels like this be a sin?" He asks me, tears in his eyes. I shake my head, not knowing the answer myself. He takes his shirt off, showing me his scarred back.

"Punish me, please."

[vincentbriggs]

so i am newly in a wheelchair which has been a Massive gain in my ability to go out and about. but i realized that i have aprox 0 clothes that look Good while seated. its a completely different silhouette and i am at a loss as to what to do for it. do you have any suggestions for what could look good seated? preferably no skirts or dresses.

Edit: Check the notes for more people's input, including actual wheelchair users who know much more about what works than I could!

Congrats on chair acquisition!!

Since you're sending this to me specifically I am working under the assumption that you mean to do some amount of sewing.

A high waisted silhouette definitely works best for sitting. I make all my pants with the waistband at my natural waist, and a bit of pleating or gathering at the back just like they did on 18th century breeches, and I've never noticed any particular discomfort from sitting in them. (I think high waisted pants are more comfortable in general, and that low rise jeans are evil.)

It's something I've never really thought about before, but sitting is a very legs-forward position, so perhaps a colourful or fancy stripe down the side would work well.

(I made this pair 10 years ago and they didn't fit well and are long gone, but I should do a better version someday...)

Or some other form of side seam decoration, like these fabulous button tabs.

(I don't know what the source for this mid 19th century fashion plate is.)

Cropped jackets would also be good. The first thing that comes to mind for me is the Carmagnole, which was a style worn by French revolutionaries. It's got a pretty similar cut to a regular 1790's coat, just shorter.

(Source)

(Source)

And there are other styles of short jacket, like this one from a few decades later.

I think it might be possible to get a similar effect from cutting down a thrifted corduroy jacket, depending on the pocket placement? It's not something I've done myself though.

A fancy little bolero could be a lot of fun too! I quite like these ones made by Marlowe Lune. Super easy to sew, and could be patterned by cutting down a bigger pattern that fits the torso.

They'd be a good thing to try if you have a smallish piece of fancy fabric, or a small bit trim to use, or want to try a small amount of embroidery.

There are lots of historical styles with sleeves too, and all sorts of decorations.

(Dunno the source for this one either, unfortunately, but the pin says 1880s reception dress. I think a little jacket like that would look good with a puffy shirt and pants.)

Short capes might be practical too, and the late 19th and early 20th century have tons of fancy capelets for inspiration, like this one.

Or this one.

I hope this is somehow helpful! I don't know if you're looking to sew things from scratch or to buy and alter stuff or what, and I have no personal experience using a wheelchair, but these are the best things I can think of for a suitable silhouette. Dramatic sleeve/shoulder puffs would also be shown off to great effect, if that's something you'd like to wear.

[peachsayshi]

cc x·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ thinking about...reader trying to break up with yandere gojo  

minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: yandere; dub con; lovesick gojo & he’s obsessive/toxic about it; he’s mean but yummy, okay?; size kink (ish?); gojo showing off his strength; sex without protection

notes: I had this written as an idea right after I wrote my hc’s for the jjk men in their yandere version. twylm readers, please forgive me for not posting the next chapter. I am working on it but I am really struggling - I had the worst burn out after the last chapter, and have been having a hard time trying to get back into the story >.< 

wc: 1,228

gojo plays with the hem of your skirt - the flat expression on his face telling you that he’s listening but appears unbothered by your statement. you can see the annoyance in his eyes, the irritation that you would say something so ridiculous in the middle of a make out session. 

his hands find the back of your thighs and with one swift motion he pulls you over his long legs so you’re hovering above his lap. the imbalance forces you to clutch onto his shirt with frustration, and he mindlessly reaches to undo his belt before tugging your underwear aside with his long, slender digits. 

“toru, are you listening to me?” you whisper in a small voice. 

“you want to take a break?” he repeats calmly, but those last two words are laced with disgust, barely slipping through his clenched teeth, and he lowers you down just enough for him to press the tip of his swollen cock against your slit. 

“I need to slow things down...” you breathe, lashes fluttering at the sensation from the contact. 

your thighs naturally start to tense up when he holds you there, and the pads of his fingers dig roughly into your hip to keep you in place. you hiss against the harsh touch, gazing down to find your lover pouting at you like a disappointed child.

any stranger would consider this an adorable expression with the way his big eyes widen while his brows upturn sorrowfully. 

to you, however, it was an entirely different message. 

“are you unhappy?” he asks, his words weighed down by hurt. 

a warm sensation travels up your calves as you try to maintain the pose and you shake your head no while squeezing him gently with reassurance. satoru flickers his attention back to the point of contact. your pelvis feels tight from holding this awkward position, and the ache to have him inside you naturally makes the space between your legs pulse with need. 

satoru gojo has given you everything and more. there is no reason for you to be unhappy. 

he made sure of that. 

“okay,” he confirms with a sigh, one palm moving to grope the curve of your ass while the other stabilizes your leg as he draws you down his length. “do you not love me?” 

a hard lump forms in your throat. 

you’re careful never to actually say those words to him. 

satoru’s devotion consumes your entire your soul - you can’t help but feel like you would be making a deal with a devil if you decided to admit your true feelings. 

you managed to keep his peace of mind this far by reassuring him with deep, promising kisses and strong acknowledgements of his feelings. 

technically you aren’t lying, but the reality is that you’re afraid to love him...and of what your love does to him.

giving him another silent reply, you nod your head as your fear creeps up the back of your spine. the only relief you find is the stretch between your legs, and your lips part into a circle as satoru gives himself to you inch by glorious inch.

your skirt flaps over you both, concealing him buried inside you. he arches forward to kiss your jaw, his large hands finding your breasts and he massages them over your fitted tank. 

he delicately trails his fingers down your waist to latch onto your hips once more. “then why...” he murmurs into your neck, “do you want to take a break?” 

your hand finds the back of his head, a moan leaving your parted lips when you feel him lick a stripe up the column before lightly nipping at your earlobe. 

“it’s just...” you gasp, feeling flowers of heat bloom in all the places he’s touching you, “I just feel like we are getting ahead of o-ourselves..ah...” 

he rocks your hips back and forth, moving at such a languid pace that you can’t help but clench your thighs around his own. your fingers curl around the snowy threads of his white hair, tugging at it gently before pulling his face away so you can meet his eyes. 

he looks smug - but he always does because he knows that you’re just addicted to him as he is to you. 

“isn’t that what we want?” he questions, the corner of his mouth twitching into a lazy smile as he takes off your top and unfastens your bra, “we’re already so perfect...” 

“satoru,” you whine, “that’s not the point-” 

this time he ruts his pelvis upward, interrupting your thoughts as he hits you at the right spot that makes your eyes disappear into the back of your head. he leans against the chair, maintaining full eye contact with you as he casually lifts you up before dropping you back down on his cock. “just want to make you m’pretty wife, is all...fuck you like this every single night...” 

you bite your bottom lip, frustrated with how wet he’s making you with his words. your body subconsciously succumbs to his demands and you slowly start bouncing up and down over his length. 

“that’s right, angel,” satoru grunts with approval, his hungry hands grab your ass roughly, and you squeak when you feel a slight sting from behind as the sound of his palm slapping against your skin echoes around the room. “see? I’m making you feel s’fucking good, your pussy’s so wet f’me...just for me...” 

when his mouth finds yours, you know you’ve lost the battle. his scalding kisses leave your lips swollen but you still search for him out of desperation to feel the fire. he’s reminding you how hard it would be to let go of him, reiterating that there is no man in this world who could ever love you as much he does. you feel silly for bringing this up, questioning your own trepidations about him and wondering if this is simply you sabotaging what you already have. 

you are in a daze from the way he fucks you but he isn’t slowing down his movements and you feel like he might actually split you in two. he would never speak to you with angry words, but you can feel it in his movements.

“gonna c-cum, gonna cum, gonna cum...” 

it comes out of you like a warning, but it only makes satoru go deeper and before you know it your vision is white. your body feels everything all at once, and the coil that’s been tightening around your lower belly loosens from the intense orgasm. the pleasure is euphoric, sinfully so, and it drains you of all the energy you’ve preserved. your body goes limp in satoru’s arms, and he keeps them wrapped securely around your waist as he pumps his cum inside you.

he holds you in this embrace, allowing the seconds to pass. his breath fans your collar bone while he tries to catch himself. your eyes feel heavy when you blink them open, and you cup his face in your hands as you seek to cool yourself down with his azure eyes.

“I’m never going to let you go,” he confesses with a sweet kiss to the inside of your palm, before placing another on your cheek while he tightens his grip, “so stop trying to push me away.” 

[mikawa13]

Every time I look at fanarts of TID I have to take a deep breath because some of the clothes aren't completely period accurate, so I wanted to try to draw them with more accurate dresses.

Charlotte did not take as long as I expected, probably because I always imagined her style in a more simple and elegant style.

I used Cassandra Jean's design for the gear and tried to adjust it a bit following the Codex's information about older versions of the female gear having a skirt, but I just decided to make that padding around the abdomen and hips longer and simulate a skirt (but not too long to not reduce the mobility), whereas the male gear would be shorter and the way that Cassandra Jean did it.

RIP Charlotte, you would've loved jumpsuits QUEEN

(February 4, 2024)

Little Miss Barbie x Regina George (1878 Edition)

Jess was a bit more complicated because she does care about her appearance more and has a more intricate style. And normally I try to not add a lot of detail with Victorian characters because Queen Victoria didn't like makeup and found it vulgar, so women usually went for a natural look. Jessamine paints her dark circles whereas Charlotte naturally has them for obvious reasons. ☠️

Low-key, I loved doing Jessamine's ghost form.

And please let's not talk about my strange doodling attempt with the electrum lace design on the parasol. Halfway through it I started telling myself Henry is not a fashion designer and he tried his best to mimic a lace design with the electrum and hide some runes for her protection.

(February 13, 2024)

I will be honest, I struggled with the color of the dress because I do not imagine Cecily with a plain color dress, but not too intricate as Jessamine's. Everything looked too blue at first and I switched so many colors until it ended up like that. And don't get me started on the hair... It felt ✨WRONG✨ to give her a historically accurate hairstyle considering everyone gives her straight hair down.

So in my head her hair IS straight, she just has to appropriately wear it up. But nothing too complicated. And it's worth mentioning my memory is starting to blur out a lot. I had to check her wiki for the weapon and whatnot, and I found that she was petite and thin. In my head she was about Tessa's height. But I barely remember a lot from the books by now.

But I did try to make her look closely similar to Will. And I think she does look like a female, better, version of him. Also, if you're wondering why she's not wearing the necklace: I didn't realize I didn't add it until I finished coloring the dress and by that point I was so sick of it I left it like that. I had the sketch of the necklace, I just forgot to put it with the dress. 🫠

(March 2, 2024)

Gideon is so lucky. 😩

The suits might discourage me from doing the men because there's not really much difference aside of small details of how each man wears it. But anyway... Back to Sophie.

The damn maid dress. It's simple. It is ten times simpler than Jessamine's dress and YET I was struggling with it. And don't get me started on the scar.

The wiki said it was a big, silver, scar on the left side of her face from the corner of her mouth to her temple. I had an existential crisis trying to figure out how to do it, because in the other set ups of these drawings, I depict them like they're facing me, so the portrait wouldn't have shown the scar.

And it's a problem because I also suck at drawing scars. The first try looked fine but it wasn't silver, then I did this and in one part I guess it's fine because I didn't want to make a pretty scar when it's supposed to be bad and shocking for the time period. But a part of my brain thinks it looks like the fungus from The Last of Us. ☠️

Anyways. You may be wondering, "why didn't you do the Shadowhunter gear?" And it's a simple answer... I wanted to see her in a pretty dress. Of course, I could have done the portrait with the maid dress, the middle with her fancy dress, and the second full-body drawing with the gear but I didn't think about that until 10 minutes before posting. 🫠 And that gear is COMPLICATED (Not really, I'm just tired after the dresses).

(April 10, 2024)

If you are wondering why there is a huge time jump from the last fanart to this, I had a really bad art block and the frustration from the inaccurate dresses brought me back lol

Unfortunately I am currently in another slump 🫠

The next one was supposed to be Tessa but the dresses really frustrated me and I never even started the sketch. Idk if I'll ever finish it. I hope so, but don't get your hopes up.

[ladadiida]

𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐤)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 as much as you wanted to stay by his side, you couldn't bear the thought of watching him fall in love with other women while you're stuck at the kitchen washing dishes and measuring ingredients. so you dreamt of leaving, of traveling to different islands to share your lovely songs and tunes; but the more your desire to leave grows, the more sanji finds himself drowning in your warmth. or, you and sanji over the years, wherein five times you tried to leave him and the one time you finally did, despite his refusal to let you go.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 musician reader, 5 + 1 things, pining, unrequited love, not actually unrequited love, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 i swear i cannot escape a brainrot whenever i watch a new show. this automatically wrote itself, i don't even remember how i came up with this idea. anyway, i'm surprised there aren't many sanji fics that involves the unrequited love trope, seeing that it suits him. or maybe that's just me. this is only a SNEAK PEEK though.

𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 full version now published here!

You accepted it years ago.

You accepted the fact that you somehow fell in love with Sanji Vinsmoke along your weird journey of working in a sea restaurant full of former pirates and making music while at it. How the pesky feelings grew and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. Maybe it was when he learned to cook your favorite food and gave it to you afterwards, or the way his crystal blue eyes reminded you of snowflakes every winter.

Or maybe it was when he pulled your hair out of jealousy the moment he learned that Zeff would be taking in another child in his care, but brushed it and even braided it after the latter cleared the misunderstanding. Maybe it was when he supported you in your dreams and told you they weren't silly, maybe it was when he fought off drunk men that were trying to hit on you. Or maybe it was the way his voice would drop an octave lower whenever he asks you for a favor. The list could go on and on and you still wouldn't know the reason why. It doesn't matter anyway. You tripped, you fell, and now you're pining.

Drying off the last of the plates, you washed your own hands after and patted them dry on your skirt. You were the last one to leave the kitchen, the other staff already back in their quarters after a long, exhausting day of cooking. You fixed the signature blue bandana tied in your hair then went on your way towards the upper deck.

You weren't blessed with a talent in cooking, so you offered to do chores instead. Washing the dishes, cleaning the restaurant, and doing the laundry were few of the things you do in the Baratie. You can't say that you enjoy it, but you were beyond grateful that Zeff gave you a chance despite his opposition to let a woman work inside his restaurant.

As you were about to go to the newly laundered clothes you hung on a thin wire earlier that morning, you heard two voices speaking. You also smelled cigarette smoke wafting through the air, and you only knew one person who could be smoking at this hour. Your breath hitched in anticipation.

"You bringing a woman to your bed again, Sanji?" The other person asked playfully, but there was a hint of disbelief in his voice. You carefully took a peek so you won't accidentally reveal yourself and be accused of eavesdropping. Two people came into view with their backs facing you.

"Now, what are you talking about, Patty? I am a gentleman. I only had a nice chat with the lovely lady and escorted her back to her ship." Sanji interjected, a cigarette hanging on his lips.

Patty huffed. "I didn't know that chatting included kiss marks on jawlines."

This caused Sanji to laugh and say, "Not my fault she was charmed by my food."

"The boss man ain't gonna like it when he finds out about this."

"He's not gonna find out." Sanji assured him, wiping off the said kiss mark on his jaw. You stared at him as he did so, and you pitied the woman who planted that kiss, knowing she was just one of the many beautiful ladies Sanji had flirted with before. However, a tinge of pain in your chest said otherwise, taunting you that it was not pity you're feeling, but foul jealousy.

"Why don't you look for more decent women, eh? How about 'little lass' for a change?" Patty suddenly suggested.

It was like someone had hit your stomach with one of the metal pans in the kitchen with the way it lurched in surprise and nervousness. Your heartbeat started to quicken the longer you waited for his response, making your grip on your skirt tighter. In moments like these, you allowed yourself to hope, to wish that he saw something in you and that he finds you beautiful and lovely enough to be the person standing by his side.

But his answer made all that hope crumble down into nothing but dust.

"I don't see her that way." Sanji said after a long stretch of silence, taking a long drag from the cigarette then releasing the smoke in a single breath.

Ah.

You blinked repeatedly, trying to keep the tears from forming. It's always been like this, so why can't you get used to it? Taking a deep breath, you gulped away the knot forming in your throat and decided to leave. You can grab the clothes later.

"You're too kind for him." Someone behind you spoke, making you jump and tense up. Turning around, you saw Zeff looking at you with an unreadable emotion in his eyes and his hands on his hips, almost like he knew your secret. Of course he does. He always sees everything.

You stumbled on your words. "Sir?"

"That boy is always up to something." He began, switching his attention to Sanji. "One minute he's stubbornly immature in the kitchen, and the next he'll be a thirsty man staring at women like they're liquid booze."

Clearing your throat, you forced a smile.

"Well, he can be a lot sometimes." You agreed, remembering the days when the two of you would fight over irrelevant matters. Then you chuckled and continued, "But he's kind. He's gentle, and lovely, like a freshly made poem you keep repeating in your head. But then he's also confusing, hot-headed, and reckless. He's like the sea, isn't he? Calm yet wrapped with mystery, dangerous yet beautiful..."

You trailed off, an unbearable heat rising up your cheeks and neck once you slowly began to realize that you just ranted out your feelings to the head chef. You glanced at him with wide eyes, preparing to see a disgusted look on his face; however, Zeff didn't appear to be repulsed by your little speech. In fact, the corners of his lips were slightly quirked up.

"But I cannot swim. If I were to drown, he wouldn't save me." You quickly added, hoping to shut down the topic.

He sighed. "You will meet someone who deserves you as much as you deserve them, little lass." He simply said. He then laid his hand out, and on his palm was a little box poorly tied with a ribbon. "Here, for you."

Altnough you were a bit confused at the random gift, you accepted it and cradled the box to your chest. "I'll be okay, Zeff." You insisted, grinning cheekily. "When I become famous, I'll sing my songs here in Baratie, and people would flood the restaurant to hear my singing. And to eat your food too, of course."

The head chef nodded, relief flooding his expression. "I look forward to that." He said while awkwardly returning your smile.

That night, when you were sure that everyone in the Baratie was asleep, you opened the loose floorboard on the floors of your bedroom and grabbed the wooden box you kept hidden for a long time now. You opened the lid and began counting the Berry you saved for the past few months.

Tomorrow was the perfect day to leave.

You just can't stay here. Yes, you had a roof over your head, delicious food to eat everyday, and clean clothes to wear but you were so miserable. This wasn't the life you wanted. You wish to go out there, sing your heart out, and fall in love with someone who actually loves you back.

A knock on your door made you freeze. You held your breath as the person on the other side continued to knock a few more times. "You awake?"

Pain surged through your veins, your chest twisting in agony. Sanji.

"You didn't come down for dinner. I guess you're too tired, hmm?" He said, his muffled voice gentle, and the sound almost prompted you to stand up and open the door for him. But you dug your fingernails in your palms and resisted, because you can't just let this opportunity pass by.

You heard a brief clinking sound before Sanji spoke again, "Sweet dreams, ange."

Once his footsteps faded away, you cautiously moved towards your door and opened it as quietly as you can. There, on the floor, was a small plate with a slice of your favorite dessert: angel's food cake, topped with fresh cream and strawberries.

You bent down and saw a note beside the plate. And when you got to read the contents of the note, you burst into tears and sobs that wracked down your entire body.

Happy Birthday

— S.

You ate the cake with tears silently falling down your cheeks, and that was the first time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

again, this is only a sneak peek of the actual fic, i'm currently halfway in completing it. please let me know if you want to read it, because i might publish it next week. if not, i'll just drown in sorrow and self-pity.

[strawberrykidneystone]

put her canine teeth in the side of my neck

lest x female reader

summary: you’re lest’s favorite client, but her services aren’t free

a/n: yk that saying of the devil works hard but fan fiction writers work harder? yeah.

tags: fluff, making out, dry humping, drug use, lest is transfem, female reader, biting

ao3 version

you tentatively knocked at the door with your hood up over your head, glancing back to make sure no one had followed you. lest opened the door with a hum and stepped to the side, an open invitation that you happily took. shucking off your cloak and setting it on one of the hooks by the front door, you made yourself at home on her couch.

lest was in a comfortable purple skirt with slits up the side and a simple strappy white tank top. she strode into the living room where you were lounging, her hips swaying side to side in a very purposeful way. glancing over to her as she leaned down with an intentional arch in her back, she could feel your eyes burning into her ass. your mouth salivated a little which you embarrassingly gulped down, turning your gaze away quickly as she straightened up. with the shimmer paintbrush in her hand, she kneeled down next to the couch and started painting a twirling pattern on your wrist.

lest continued to paint patterns and gently dragged the paintbrush up your arm, ending with a swirl around your bicep that matched the other patterned brush strokes adorning your skin. a familiar buzz worked its way into your bloodstream as the shimmer traveled through your veins, giving you eyes a purple glow at the peak of your digestion. your body sagged with relaxation and a euphoric sigh left your lips.

currently, you were in lest’s shoebox apartment draped over her velvet flea market couch with faded tassels lining the edges. some were missing while others had very few strings left, but she had the couch re-stuffed and replaced the springs so it felt like new. she usually insisted on traveling to her client's houses instead of letting them into her home, but you were a lifelong friend, so she didn’t mind. maybe a friend was the wrong way of putting it, friends don’t usually kiss.

seeing as you were properly satiated, lest turned to her own vice of smoking through a pipe. while she mainly worked with clients who preferred being painted, she always smoked. if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it you supposed to yourself.

she carefully set the brush into its proper case and stuffed it into her doctors' bag. picking up her pipe from the coffee table, she took a long drag and blew the air straight up. you watched as the purple clouds danced in the air and slowly dissipated as if it were never there in the first place.

was she always this pretty or did the shimmer haze just make her seem more ethereal?

she climbed on all fours onto the couch and straddled your lap. your hands connected to her hips and squeezed the soft flesh. rubbing her sides to slightly pull up her shirt, you softly dug your fingers into her fur and felt her shiver above you. she took a long drag from her glass pipe and blew the purple smoke into your face, which you happily inhaled.

she set the pipe down on the table and started rocking her hips against yours, a soft moan sighed from her lips. leaning forward, she panted her hands on either side of your head. you met her rocking by thrusting your hips up against her, arching your back against the couch and zeroing in on her lips. she chuckled at your eagerness, you were always so needy when you were high.

she pressed her lips against yours, her canines quickly nipping your bottom lip for access into your mouth. the taste of the shimmer smoke flooding your mouth as your tongue danced with hers, her sandpaper-like tongue ticking your wet muscle. you giggled into the kiss and she smiled against your lips.

you felt her bulge pressing against you and you’re sure that she could feel the wetness soaking your underwear that was surely moistening your pants. a loud purring started in her chest as she continued to lazily grind again you, kissing down your neck. she licked up the side of your neck, smirking as you squirmed beneath her and held back your giggles. your hands trailed down her waist and gripped the flesh of her ass, needily bucking up against her with a whine. she scraped her sharp teeth against your neck, sinking them in shallowly at the junction between your neck and your shoulder. you gasped as she sunk her teeth into your skin, pleasure quickly overcoming the initial pain that you felt.

she pulled back and gently licked at the bite mark, burying her face in your neck with a deep sigh. you hummed and closed your eyes, rubbing her back as the tones of her purring slowly lulled you to sleep. while the shimmer was nice in your system, holding lest in your arm was better than any drug.

part 2

[samkerrworshipper]

sugar baby | alexia putellas x reader

a big big big thank you to @codiemarin because this fic would not exist without her suggestions and ideas!!! also back from my hiatus (maybe) hope yall enjoy!

warnings: smut 18+ minors dni

This had become normal for you.

Every second night, instead of lying in the comfort of your own sheets or servicing clients in the club you used to work at, you were standing in the kitchen of your newest employer, plating up the takeout that had been chosen for tonight.

Sunday nights were take out nights, because it was typically Alexia’s game night, which meant she was starving by the time she was home and looking for a quick eat. Majority of the time, she was riding on an adrenaline high, which meant one thing, you were in for it.

Sunday’s had very quickly become your favourite night of the week for this reason, Sunday night had expectations, ones that Alexia was extremely specific about.

You were to have dinner done by the time she was home, you were to be wearing whatever lingerie she’d most recently bought for you, the shortest skirt in your wardrobe and your cunt and ass stuffed with the vibrator and butt plug that Alexia required you to wear in preparation before she got home.

Normally, being stuffed exhilarates you, it’s your favourite way to spend your afternoons in Alexia’s apartment, as you aimlessly clean and spend time on Alexia’s balcony reading in the Barcelona sun. Normally, she edges you for hours before she returns home, controlling the vibrator stuffed in your pussy with the app on her phone. Today though, she’s left you stuffed but with no stimulation. It’s equally exhilarating knowing that Alexia is giving you a bit of a break, knowing that it means she’s going to destroy you as soon as she walks through the door.

Alexia after a game is always your favourite version of Alexia, it’s like all of the control issues, the built up adrenaline and exhaustion somehow mix into a perfectly horny Alexia who always managed to make you feel good in all of the worst ways.

You swore that you didn’t hear the door open or Alexia’s footsteps making their way through her apartment, slowly approaching you, too focused on plating up the food and making it look less like it had been crammed into a plastic container and more like it was a home cooked meal. Chances were Alexia couldn’t care less, as long as everything was clean and put away by the time she got home and the food was good then none of it really mattered.

She snuck up on you, her hand gently placing itself on the back of your neck. You did your best not to scream in surprise, instead squealing as quietly as possible at the warm hand that was now pressed firmly against your mostly bare thigh.

Ale’s breath is also equally as warm against your neck, you can tell just by her grip and firmness that it’s been a tough game, a bad day for her standards.

You never check the scores on her matches for this exact reason, it meant that there was always some element of surprise as to how Alexia’s mood was going to be when she arrived home, if it was a good game, an easy game, then she tended to be a bit more mellowed out, floaty and happy on the adrenaline high she was coming off of, bad games however could result in many different versions of Alexia.

“Hola.”

Your voice is croaky, the sudden pressure on the nape of your neck making it harder to enunciate.

“Hola.”

Alexia’s voice is short and scrapy, like she’s been yelling for hours upon hours, which you suppose could be the case.

“Dinner is on the table, from Clarice’s.”

It’s a boutiquey mediterranean place that Alexia loves.

For you, it’s mind boggling that she’s willing to spend such an insane amount of money on food that is only half decent, you suppose, though when you have exorbitant amounts of money you might as well spend it.

“You’re eating with me.”

Alexia doesn’t wait for you to take in her words, she grabs onto the hair at the base of your neck and pulls you towards the dining table, dragging you with her.

You don’t normally eat with Alexia, preferring to talk with her after her games or prepare yourself how she wished for whatever the rest of the night was going to entail, tonight though she seemed to have other plans.

Instead of guiding you into one of the seats at the table like you’d expected though, Alexia took her own seat, before dragging you down to your knees below her.

The floor was hard on your bare knees, not that you actually minded.

Alexia kept her hand in your hair, locked down on a clump of roots at the lowest point of your hairline where your neck and hair met.

She didn’t have to say much, her spare hand tugging at the waistband of her shorts was enough of an indication of exactly what she was expecting you to eat.

Your hands replaced Alexia’s, nails digging into the elastic of her shorts and tugging them down her ass and thighs. You didn’t take your time, not when Alexia was clearly so worked up, you dragged them off of her until they were still pooled at her ankles.

Next you moved onto her panties, taking them off with the same intention as her shorts.

You didn’t waste any time staring at the clear wet patch on Alexia’s panties, or the scuffs and scratches up and down her knees and thighs that told you the game had been rougher than she was letting on.

Her knee was cold, you realised that when your shoulder brushed up against it, like she’d had an ice pack pressed to it until she’d walked into the apartment.

Once her panties were off, you took a second to admire her, spread out directly in front of you.

It was one of your favourite sights, quite possibly your number one.

You started at Alexia’s knee, pressing warm sloppy kisses to the skin on the inside, slowly making your way up to where she wanted you most.

Were you purposely teasing her?

maybe.

It didn’t take long, a couple of wet, rough kisses along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh managing to be enough to earn you a harsh pull of your hair, jerking your head backwards so you were looking up at Alexia.

She has a fork in her hand, clearly enjoying her meal.

“Don’t test me, keep teasing me and you won’t like the consequences.”

Alexia’s voice is definite, if you disobey her then she’s going to punish you, it’s a clear outline of her expectations.

Normally, you’d put yourself right in the middle on the scale of brattiness and submission, maybe teetering a little bit further towards the bratty side.

You knew where to toe the line though.

Praise was something you craved, you didn’t necessarily like to be constantly in trouble, you liked to please people and the easiest way to do that was to obey.

So without much fuss, you gently pulled your head from Alexia’s grip, moving past her thighs and with slight hesitation giving her exactly what she wanted.

You started with one thick, broad stroke, directly through her heat.

She was soaked, like she’d been anticipating this her whole way home, which sent a shiver down your spine.

Alexia pushed you where she wanted, up to her clit, you got the message and started to suck, hard.

It was exactly how Alexia liked it, your teeth grazing her most sensitive place every so often, her hips jerking so slightly when you did.

You weren’t all that surprised when her hand reached from your hair to the place inbetween your shoulders, tapping until you correct your posture.

It was random things like that Alexia was a complete freak over, posture, cleanliness, little stupid things that you couldn’t have cared less about.

Yet for some reason, you found yourself adjusting to how Alexia wanted you, even if it meant your head was that much closer to hitting the bottom of the table and your back was now cramping. It was worth it if it meant that Alexia was more at ease and you could avoid punishment.

Alexia wasn’t a loud lover, on a good day the best you could get out of her was a groan or if it was a really good day then a moan, it wasn’t any surprise to you though if you couldn’t get anything out of her.

Alexia stayed silent, apart from the noises of her slowly making her way through the food you’d plated up for her.

You had become a master of Alexia’s body, it was necessary considering she was so quiet, you knew her tell tale signs and exactly when she was close and how to get her there.

It didn’t take long, it never really did after a game.

You were no scientist or professional as far as women's health went, but you assumed it had something to do with all of the hormones and energy that was built up, it put a person closer to the edge.

You weren’t surprised when Alexia’s thighs slowly began to tighten on either side of your head and her grip on your hair became so tight that you struggled to move against her.

Everything in Alexia’s body tensed up, she went rigid and then finally, without any show at all, she relaxed, her clit throbbing underneath your mouth and thighs relaxing on either side of your head.

As soon as she’d come you moved your mouth down from her clit, cautious of over stimulating her too early and instead moving down to her opening and cleaning up the mess that you’d made.

It might have just been the best dinner you’d ever had.

You keep your mouth on her, not wanting to displease her in any way.

As she’s finishing her food and you lazily kiss and lick her pussy you become progressively more aware of the pooling wet heat that has begun to settle into your panties and is slowly beginning to leak out across your thighs, you feel so full and yet so empty, craving to feel more than the motionless toys that you’ve been stuffed with for hours.

Almost as soon as Alexia is setting her fork down on her plate she’s pushing your head away from her, pushing you back until your ass is sitting on top of the backs of your heels.

“Clean up, I’ll be waiting in the bedroom.”

Before you can nod your head Alexia is already standing, walking off towards her bedroom and leaving you on your knees in front of the chair she’d previously occupied.

With sore knees and arousal dripping all over your face you stood up, collecting Alexia’s empty plate and walking unsteadily towards the sink and washing it off before stacking it into the dishwasher. You do the same with her cutlery before closing the dishwasher and putting away any other mess you’d made and making sure the kitchen was as you’d found it, if Alexia found anything out of place in the morning you knew she’d punish you for it, so you took time making sure every meticulous detail was correct.

Alexia kept her home as she kept herself, organised to an obsessive point, everything had a specific space or place that it had to occupy. She had a dish for the tv remote, an alphabetically sorted spice rack, every painting, picture and frame had to be centred and her wardrobe was sorted into so many different categories that you struggled to comprehend how a person could put together an outfit everyday without having an aneurysm.

Alexia loved it though, and for whatever reason she expected you to uphold her level of cleanliness.

Once you were certain that the room was exactly how Alexia liked it, you began walking towards Alexia’s bedroom, your favourite room in her apartment.

The door was half open, giving you a glance into the space before you stepped foot into the doorway.

The lights were dimmed and whilst you couldn’t see Alexia, you could see the items she’d left out on top of the bed spread and it had you quaking from the inside to out.

The anticipation of actually getting to see Alexia is enough to get you through the door, slowly pushing the door open and allowing yourself to step foot in the room.

It didn’t take long for you to find Alexia, she was standing in the doorway of her wardrobe, hands on her hips and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.

She was stark naked, excluding the strap that was hanging from the space in between her legs.

The red dildo was one that you’d never seen before, and for that you were glad.

It looked far larger than anything you’d ever taken with Alexia, there were veins up and down the length of it and the girth alone was intimidating, the length though, the length was enough to make your eyes pop out of your skull.

Alexia looked as smug as ever, the cocky grin on her face and the way that her muscles bulged out just above the strap. Alexia’s got a good body, she knows it, everybody on earth who has a functioning brain knows it. It’s one of your guilty secrets that you get it all to yourself, that you get to see parts of her body that nobody else gets to. You’ve seen thousands of women, super models, athletes, people from all walks of life but you’re fairly certain that nobody would ever come close to Alexia Putellas.

It wasn’t just her body either, it was her demeanour, her aura, everything about her was attractive to you. She was a good person, but she was also a good fuck, the best sex you’d had in your life was with Alexia and you’d worked in a sex club for years. You can’t be taught experience or confidence, it’s something that you have or you don’t and Alexia was the best. You supposed she liked to be the best at everything, the best at football, the best at life, the best at sex. Her strive for perfection in all walks of life never deterred.

“Alexia.”

Alexia pouted at you, her hands anchored at her hips, giving you a full view of her full breasts and her rock hard nipples.

“That’s not what you call me.”

You bit down on your lip, the stickiness between your thighs only getting stickier.

“Daddy.”

Alexia’s smirk broadened, her teeth biting down into her lip.

“Yes baby?”

You felt your pussy quiver, your cheeks reddening.

“It’s to big.”

Alexia’s smirk faded in a matter of seconds, the blonde starting to take steps towards you.

“I don’t like that attitude baby girl, you’ll take what I give you unless you want to make me mad, and I don’t think you want that, hm?”

The condescending voice, the way her eyes looked down at you, the saunter in her steps. If you hadn’t already soaked your thong then it was now.

“Daddy, it’s huge.”

Alexia nodded, like you were telling her what day it was instead of talking about the appendage that was attached to her hips.

“Wanna say that again? Wanna make me mad? Wanna put me in an even worse mood than that game did, because I recall that your one job is to do the exact opposite.”

She’s right, you were quite literally employed by her as a means for her to manage her stress. It had started at the club you’d worked at, Alexia spending half of her week in the shitty mildewy basement of a run down sex club in Barcelona just to enjoy your company. Eventually she was spending more time paying for your time at the club than at her own home and that was when she made the decision to give you a proposition, one you’d accepted happily.

“No daddy.”

Alexia nods her head, taking the final step to bridge the gap between the two of you.

“That’s what I thought princesa, now how about you lie back on the bed for me, you know how I like you.”

You didn’t hesitate, brushing past Alexia and straight to her bed, climbing on top of the covers as gracefully as you could manage, trying to give Alexia a show as you crawled your way to the top of the bed. Once you made it to the pillows you flipped onto your back, opening your legs for Alexia and keeping still as she liked you.

Alexia peered down at you, admiring the clear wet patch that was embedded in your thong. It was a sight that she was equally as grateful for every time she got to see it, the evidence that you were just as needy and worked up as she was, that you were equally as desperate for her as she was for you.

“So wet princesa, is that all for me? Does your perfect little pretty cunt get worked up at the thought of me?”

She knows the answer, she only asks you to try and get a kick out of you, to rile you up and try and get you to brat back at her, you know her tricks and you know that it’s best to answer her with some kind of submissive variation.

“Yes daddy.”

Alexia moves her way around to the side of the bed, leaning over to reach for your chin, her index finger pointing it up so you’re looking at her eye-to-eye.

“You’ve been good today? Doing as I asked and not touching what belongs to me?”

You shake your head obediently, you’ve learnt from experience that disobeying Alexia is the worst possible thing you could do, for starters the woman always seems to find the truth anyways and she’s more creative than most with her punishment tactics.

“Yes daddy, I’m always good for you.”

Alexia smirks big and wide, her grip on your chin tightening.

“I’ll be the decider of that. What colour are you princesa?”

You take a big deep breath before answering Alexia, composing yourself to give her a proper answer.

“Green, daddy.”

Alexia nods, her fingers staying on your chin with a grip that you couldn’t even try to escape.

“How are you feeling about being tied up baby?”

You thought about the question for a few seconds.

“Fine, I’m green daddy, I’ll let you know if I don’t like anything.”

Alexia smiles, softer, less aggressively domineering.

“That’s what I like to hear, what are your rules?”

You almost roll your eyes, almost.

Alexia’s made you memorise them, you know them like you know the colour of your eyes and the surface of your palm.

“I know my rules daddy.”

Alexia’s soft smile reverts to the harsh line, the same one you’d been met with when she’d found you in the kitchen.

“I didn’t ask if you knew them, I asked you to tell me them. Don’t make me have to punish you when you’ve been so well behaved so far, what are your rules, slut?”

Alexia’s grip turns into a bruising hold, her finger tips digging into the skin of your chin bone.

“No touching myself without permission. No talking without permission unless I’m spoken to. No cumming without permission. Use my safewords if I want to stop at any time. No moving unless you tell me too. If you tell me to do something, do it.”

Alexia nods, climbing onto the bed beside you and hovering her face just inches above yours.

“There’s my good girl, you can be good if you want to, huh?”

Once again, you do your very best to shrug off the condescension in Alexia’s words, smiling at her and simply nodding your head.

“Yes daddy.”

Alexia leans down, pulling your bottom lip with her teeth before your lips even begin to meet hers. Everything about the kiss is as controlled as Alexia, she goes at her own pace, deepening it when and however she likes, eventually pushing her tongue into your mouth.

It’s slower than you’d like, and with both of your holes still stuffed but unstimulated it’s ten times harder to endure, but you assume that’s Alexia’s doing, she’s trying to get you as riled up as possible, although you are unsure of her endgame.

“You look so pretty with my cum all over your face baby, I taste divine if I do say so myself.”

Alexia’s fingers begin to trail down your body, over the top of the lace that your breasts are confined to and straight down to the waistband of your panties, gently brushing over your hips before her hand dipped below the wet lace and swiped through your heat two times, collecting as much arousal as she could without touching any of the places that you were yearning for her the most.

Alexia’s hands are gone almost as quickly as they arrived, her hand creating a gap in between the kiss. Her fingers replace your lips, her index and middle finger being pushed into her mouth.

The way that Alexia sucks, nips and licks at her fingers is simply mesmerising, you're in a trance watching her.

“Such a fucking filthy slut, all wet from getting daddy off, huh? You taste magnificent, baby.”

The mixture of praise and degrading has your head spinning in circles, all of the different words mixing inside your head, sending you into that perfect headspace that Alexia always managed to drift you into.

“Open.”

Alexia’s fingers, now wet with her slobber, tapped at your chin and without any hesitation whatsoever you opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out.

Within seconds, Alexia was spitting into your mouth, directly onto your waiting tongue.

“Swallow.”

You obey her once again, swallowing the spit on your tongue, faintly tasting your own arousal mixed in.

“How do you taste, baby?”

You focus on swallowing properly before answering Alexia.

“Horny, daddy.”

Alexia rolls her eyes before landing a sharp but playful slap to the inside of your thigh, plastering it with more wetness.

“Behave and maybe I’ll do something about it.”

Alexia’s lips don’t return to yours, instead they hover just far enough out of reach that you can’t connect yours with hers.

Alexia lifts herself up and off the mattress, walking over to the pile of different toys she’s left out on the bench at the foot of the bed and picking out a set of silk ties.

She walks back over to you, reaching for your wrists and knotting the silk around them before reaching up to the posts on each side of your bed and securing your wrists to them. Once she’s done she nods at you to check them, you move your wrists accordingly, testing her bonds.

They’re tight and methodically done, immobilising you how Alexia wishes, but they’re also loose enough that if you really tried you’d be able to escape them without much effort.

Once Alexia’s satisfied with her knotwork she walks back over to her pile, picking out a few items that she keeps hidden from you.

Alexia crawls her way back up the mattress, stop halfway up your body and opting to pull the sticky panties off of you, she peels them off of you, slowly tugging them down your hips until they’re sitting at your ankles. Alexia trails her fingers back up a long your legs, tracing little white lines across your skin with her nails as they made their way back up to the space that your panties had previously covered.

Alexia didn’t touch anything, instead she gently began to tug at the vibrator nestled deep inside of you, it’s lying painfully motionless inside of you and whilst you were more than happy to be filled up with something, it’s almost a relief having it removed.

“Such a good girl staying stretched out for daddy, hmm?”

You nod your head at Alexia, trying your hardest to keep your composure as she gently traces the tissue around your hole, never dipping inside though.

“Such a pretty little pussy, so perfect for daddy to stretch out and play with.”

You suck in a deep breath as Alexia’s hand comes down in a firm but quick slap, the pain flashing across your most sensitive areas.

Your back arches, a few months ago you would have been embarrassed that your body was seeking out that kind of contact but with Alexia that all changed, how could you feel embarrassed when she looked and talked about your body like it was created by God himself.

Her hand comes down again, this time more targeted towards your clit, it takes everything you have to turn the scream that was ready in your chest into a groan.

“Be as loud as you want, princesa, it’s not going to make me stop and it’s not going to make your body dislike what I’m doing to you.”

Alexia’s hand comes down again, the squelchy slap ringing out across the room, this time it’s more targeted directly at your stretched out hole. This time you let out something that sounds more like a ringed out scream, your vocal cords unable to truly suppress the extreme amounts of pain and pleasure that are being sent through the nerve receptors across your cunt.

Another two slaps fall in quick succession and by the end of both of them you’re groaning and moaning as much as your lungs will allow, hips chasing any contact you can possibly get or find.

“Such a little pain slut aren’t you, desperate for any kind of contact daddy will give you, you take it so well princesa.”

Alexia places gentle kisses across your hips and thighs, it’s nice, but it’s nowhere near what you want from her.

“Ale, please.”

Alexia’s lips move from your skin almost immediately, her head jerking up to look at you, her brows knitted in annoyance.

“It’s daddy to you, slut. The only noises I want to hear coming from your mouth are the sweet little sounds that you make when I’m touching you, understood?”

You nod your head, well aware that too much disobedience will earn you a very sore ass and no relief for the night.

Alexia reaches down to her pile at the end of the bed, picking up something that you don’t get a look at.

You find out quick enough, when you hear the whirring of a vibrator and seconds later it’s pressed directly against your sore and puffy clit.

Your body thrashes in reply almost immediately, it’s a painful overstimulation that your body was most definitely not ready for.

Your back arches and thighs clench, even though it’s clear that there is no escaping the forced contact, Alexia’s hand stays steady, pressing the vibrator down hard against your bud. Eventually, the vision blurring pain begins to subside, and your sent into the most unpleasurable slow lead up to your orgasm.

You were close nonetheless, and frighteningly aware that the chances of Alexia giving you an orgasm right now were slim and even if she did it was going to be possibly the least pleasurable one she could give you.

You didn’t need to wait long to find out, Alexia sensing your impending orgasm pulled away, giving you a chance to take a deep breath, a mere second.

A second long reprieve was all you got before she laid down another two quick slaps against your clit.

You screamed. As loud as your vocal cords would allow, you screamed. If the overstimulation before had been too much then now it was completely incomprehensible. There was an accumulation of sweat on your forehead similar to the pool of wetness accumulated between your thighs.

Alexia gave you another second to breathe, before the vibrator was pressed straight back against your clit, making you scream once again, your vision full of white as your body shook from the pure pain you were going through.

Alexia wasn’t wrong when she called you a pain slut, it was why she’d frequented you so much at the club, it was why she paid you so much for your company. Not a lot of people could take the amount of pain you were willing to, and still find it pleasurable, yet you loved every single second of it, or you loved the result that always came after taking some pain.

Alexia always made it worth your while, and she knew where your limit was.

“So perfect bebita, taking what I’m giving you, you’re so wet princesa.”

Alexia’s finger trailed down to your hole, briefly dipping inside and collecting some of the wetness. She smeared it across the flat part of your stomach, leaving a long trail of your arousal against your stomach.

“Can you feel that princesa? My little pain slut, hmm? Getting all soaked over me abusing your cunt. How’s it feel?”

It’s hard to talk and articulate what you’re feeling considering how much your body is being affected by the painful overstimulation Alexia is putting you through.

“Good daddy, so fucking good.”

Alexia smirks, silently proud of herself and silently just as proud of you.

“Mm, you reckon you can take another two for me baby? Another two edges and then you’ll get a reward, can you do it for daddy?”

You actually weren’t sure if you could, maybe another one, but two seemed like it could be teetering on the edge of too much. Alexia realised your apprehension before you managed to voice it, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips.

“Let’s try for another one and see how you feel, hmm? You’ve been so good for me princesa, if it’s too much let me know and we’ll stop or take a break.”

The soft Alexia fades as soon as you nod your head, the determination on your face returning, you didn’t want to disappoint Alexia and you didn’t want to tap out unless you were seriously struggling, so you tried to control yourself as much as possible and focus on the lesser sensations.

It didn’t take long for you to get close once again, once the pain subsided you were left with pure pleasure, pleasure that was almost as blinding as the pain that you had previously been experiencing.

As soon as it starts to be perfectly, consumingly good, the vibrator is taken from you and your overwhelmed with the pain of Alexia’s hand coming down on your pussy again. This time around she’s kind enough to spread her hit across your whole sex, instead of targeting your clit, the pain is there all the same though.

“What’s your colour, princesa?”

You take a few seconds to reply, focusing on taking a couple of deep breaths whilst you wait for the immediate pain to pass.

“Green, I’m green daddy.”

Alexia reaches up to press another soft kiss to your lips, her lips linger on top of yours.

“You feel like you can go for another one? I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”

You take your time replying to her, enjoying the feeling of her lips pressed to yours and the vibrations that would spread across yours whenever she breathed.

“I can go again.”

You could feel Alexia’s lips perk up against yours, a smirk growing on her face.

She keeps her lips pressed to yours as she brings the vibrator back to your clit, making it a little bit more bearable.

Alexia’s lips stay connected to yours the whole time, the scream and moans being pushed straight against her lips as you work through the pain and pleasure coming straight from your core. As soon as you’ve begun to get closer to the edge, it’s gone and just like every other time, you’re hit with an overwhelming pain as Alexia’s hand comes down one final time.

Her lips leave yours as you groan and try to process the overstimulation that you can feel radiating across your lower half.

The pain is soothed by Alexia’s tongue, her lips and tongue flattening out across your puffy clit, it mellows out the pain slightly, but simultaneously begins to push you back towards the edge that you were so desperate to get over but also be away from.

Your hips cant up as a reflex, a reflex that is quickly put to rest as one of Alexia’s hands pushes down against your hips, keeping you pressed against the mattress.

“Stay still and let me clean you up princesa.”

Alexia’s tongue gently traced it’s way around your cunt, lapping at the wetness and getting as much of it on her tongue as possible. Her spare hand pushed it’s way underneath you, locating the forgotten butt plug nestled between your cheeks and gently tugging at it.

While her mouth doesn’t provide any real kind of pleasure, the tugging and twisting of the toy in your ass certainly does. Alexia’s been stretching you out for weeks, it’s been a slow process, but worth it, it’s elevated your experiences with her that extra bit, to the point where you could probably come solely from her playing with your ass. You’ve got no doubt that one day she’ll want to try it and when that day comes around you’ll be more than happy to oblige her, there was something so much more special and sacred about having her play with your ass in ways that nobody else had. You were no anal virgin, working at a sex club meant that you’d experimented more than the average person but never in the ways that Alexia managed to, even now that the two of you were months into your situation she still managed to surprise you by introducing new things.

Alexia didn’t wait for you to get to the edge, she needed you to stay conscious and she was fairly certain another edge might put you too far into subspace, to the point where you weren’t coherent enough for her to be using how she wanted to. Right now, you seemed to be floating in that perfectly obedient place where you typically fell after some proper exertion, compliant enough to do anything Alexia wanted. It was her favourite place to have you.

You mewled at Alexia as she pulled away, stripping off the rest of her clothes and leaving them in a neatly stacked pile at the foot of the bed before reaching for the strap she’d left on the edge of the bed and fastening it around her hips with practised ease. It was a new dildo that she had attached to the strap, larger than she’d had you take before, she was well aware that it might be a bit to big for you, but she was also excited to see if you were up for it.

Alexia crawled her way in between your legs, pressing the silicone cock flat against your stomach before pressing her lips to your neck, reaching behind you to take off the bra that was still attached to you. She keeps her lips attached to the skin across your chest, marking you up just how she liked to. Alexia loved the fact that you were all hers, hers to mark up, hers to order around, hers to come home to.

“Daddy, please.”

With the feeling of silicone pressed against your stomach and Alexia’s lips sucking deep purple marks along your collarbones, it was hard to not be insanely desperate, especially considering just how much she’d focused on working you up.

“I’ve got you princesa, daddy’s going to make you feel so good.”

Alexia finishes with one last hickey before pushing herself up onto her elbows, giving herself a better view of you.

“Gonna give you your reward princesa, gonna make you feel so good.”

Alexia leans back, positioning herself in between your legs and lining herself up with you, slowly beginning to work her way in.

The groan that you let out as Alexia slowly starts to thrust the length into you. Simultaneously, as she’s slowly working her way in, she reaches down, tugging at the plug still slotted inbetween your cheeks.

It seems to be the right move, because your body practically melts from the mixed stimulation, making it that much easier for Alexia to ease her way in, your body pretty much opening up for her.

Just as she bottoms out, she tugs at the plug, pulling it out and replacing it with her fingers.

You moan in a way that Alexia’s never heard before, your whole body vibrates along with the moan, like your whole body is generating the sound.

It only spurs Alexia on.

Once she’s certain that you’re comfortable with the length and width of the strap, she starts to quicken her pace, rocking her hips against yours, her fingers following the same pace. Alexia nudges your legs just a bit further apart and a bit higher up, giving her a better angle to start properly fucking you.

Alexia is mesmerised by the feeling of being inside of you in two different places, she hadn’t planned this for tonight, but she’s so grateful that it happened because it feels different in all of the best ways.

She roughens her pace as you seemingly begin to get closer, your body jerking to meet Alexia for every single thrust.

“D-Daddy, fuck, please.”

Alexia quickens her pace, beginning to roughen her thrusts.

“Hold on for me baby, wait till I’m ready and we’ll come together.”

You bite down on your lip hard, the double penetration is making you feel things that you’ve never felt before and you feel like you're about to explode in more ways than one.

“Please daddy, need to come.”

Alexia nods her head, desperate to get herself to the edge so that she can ride it out with you.

“I know baby, just a little bit longer, daddy’s got you.”

Alexia leans down, pressing a kiss to your jaw and pistoning her hips as hard as possible, getting enough friction against her clit for her own orgasm to begin to grow, the coil in her stomach beginning to tighten.

“Go ahead baby, come with daddy, I’ve got you.”

It doesn’t take long before you’re plummeting over the edge, your orgasm hitting you like a semi-truck, quite literally.

You go boneless immediately, all the pent up pleasure and pain finally coursing it’s way throughout your veins and all the nerves inside of you lighting up like a christmas tree.

Alexia’s orgasm isn’t as strong but it hits her all the same, she pulls out slowly before collapsing on top of you, slotting her head into the crook of your neck and letting the both of you come down.

When your body stops shaking and your breathing evens out, Alexia lifts herself off of you, pulling the strap off of herself before lying down next to you and bringing you into her arms, allowing you to come down in her arms.

The skin to skin contact does wonders for you, sending you into a warm cloud of post sex happiness as you burrow your way into Alexia’s neck, trying your hardest to jump inside of her skin.

“Princesa.”

You try your hardest to ignore Alexia, opting to attach yourself to her.

“Princesa, c’mon you need to get up.”

Alexia doesn’t have the heart to actually try and lift you off of her, but she does have a brain that is telling her that there are things that need to be done before she can enjoy your company in her sheets.

“Princesa, go to the bathroom, I’ll fetch us both some water from the kitchen and then we can have cuddles, okay?”

You groan into Alexia’s neck, clearly displeased with her suggestion but also forcing yourself off of Alexia to do as she’s asked, knowing that it is the logical thing to do.

“I want cuddles when I get back, proper cuddles.”

Alexia rolls her eyes.

“I don’t pay you for cuddles.”

It’s lighthearted, a joke that has you even rolling your eyes.

“No but you probably should, I’m a pretty awesome cuddler.”

Alexia snorts, nodding her head, it’s true.

“Cuddles once you pee and drink some water, okay? I’ll even sleep in an extra hour for you, how does that sound?”

It’s an offer you’ve got no business denying.

“Meet you back in bed?”

Alexia nods her head, already making her way into the kitchen.

“I’ll meet you there.”

———————————————————————

anyways this fic was written in three different countries and i sooo can’t be fucked with editing it so sorry if you experienced the after math of that!!! love yall and hope you enjoyed this 🫶

[leaawrites]

I have so many short & sweet videos on my fyp right now. I can’t stop thinking about singer!reader announcing her f1 bf by arresting him and dedicating Juno to him like Sabrina does at her concerts. The fans would go wild!!! I’m desperate for this fic

Juno (Live from the Shrot n'Sweet Tour)

Lando Norris x fem!singer!reader

Summary: requested as above.

Wordcount: 0.6k

Warnings: (very) suggestive content, smau (a first time for me, i hope it's alright), flirting, fluff

Note: omgg, this is such an good idea! I loved writing it! I chose Lando bc, I just love writing for him, hope that's alright with you. If not, let me know and I'll (gladly) make another version.

Masterlist, Short n'Sweet Series

“If you haven’t already noticed,” Y/n announced, making the crowd go quiet to hear her talk. “We have a special guest tonight in the crowd.”

The moment the words left her lips and the camera panned to the guy in the audience, beaming up at her with the biggest smile one could muster, the crowd went wild. Lando was just laughing at the reaction.

Everyone there knew how big of an f1 fan Y/n was. Having attended some grand prixs already and posting her reactions to every race on her insta story, she didn’t try to make her love for the sport unknown.

The camera went back to the woman on stage, sirens going off and making everyone know what would happen next. It was a common tradition on the tour. But now, it was different when she said, “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid you’re under arrest for being too hot.”

The way she winked at him and from how red he got at the mere eye contact with her, made it obvious this wasn’t mindless flirting. This was proper natural behavior for them.

“That hot, formula 1 driver I have absolutely no relation to.” She pointed out at the crowd. “You know who I mean, right? Of course, you do.” She nodded in approval at the crowd as they clapped and shouted in excitement. They were there for the show and boy, were they going to give them one.

“Sorry, what was your name again?” She asked innocently, holding the microphone in his direction.

Instead of one answer, she got thousands. All calling one name: Lando.

“Oh, okay. Okay,” she said after genuinely being surprised by the amounts of answers she received.

“Lando, gosh,” she continued talking, waving her hand in front of her face like she was trying not to faint. “Lando.” She mused his name, making it melt on her tongue like it was the most beautiful thing she heard.

She didn’t need to ask, but a script is a script. “Lando, where are you from?”

“Monaco,” he shouted back this time.

“Monaco? So, you’re rich?” He nodded. “And you came all the way here to see me?”

“Only for you.”

“Only for me? You’re too much. Stop it.” Waving her hand at him, as a blush graced her face and she scrunched up her nose. “You’re doing things to me, boy. I can’t even.”

Before she could keep on rambling, her backup dancer opened the back of her once long skirt making it fall down, revealing a shorter version. She stepped out of it, saying, “Oh my god, my clothes are falling of for you. This is embarrassing.”

She heard his voice again, a flirty comment leaving his lips: “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time?” She repeated, trying to see if she heard him correctly. When he nodded, she could see the confidence building up inside of him more and more. He wasn’t as nervous about this anymore as he was backstage before the show. Overthinking and stressing about how the fans would react to it. “Oh, you’re right about that.”

The crowd went wild again. Screaming louder than ever before.

“So, I guess,” she started talking, taking the fluffy pink handcuffs from another one of her backup dancers. “Could you maybe keep them for the rest of the show? Just so, I don’t loose them for later.” She winked at him again, starting to laugh when she saw him bury his face in his hands out of embarrassment.

She could barely still hear herself over the screams of the fans.

“Anyway, I’d like to dedicate this next song to my boyfriend, Lando Norris.”

And then the song began, the crowd going crazy and she couldn’t stop smiling. Everyone knew, finally. They knew and she made it official in a way only she could.

Lando Norris

Yep, this is my girlfriend. No more of that Lando Norizz bullshit.

yourusername: babe, what the fuck is that last picture?

yourusername: love you though, i guess

-> LandoNorris: you guess? Didn’t seem like that last night, huh?

-> yourusername: omg, shut up. This isn't a public account concersation.

Comments have been limited.

[kiwi-on-ice]

Halloween couples costumes with Overwatch men + women with fem!reader

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Not fully smut but definitely nsfw elements in some

Notes: Happy Halloween!! <3 and thank you all so much for your support throughout kinktober, it’s been stressful but so fun! Hope you all have a spooky day, love from kiwi xx

Women:

Ashe:

Inspired by @ovwechoes she’d definitely love to go as Poison Ivy, with you as her Harley Quinn, buying you both the best quality costumes. Makes the perfect distraction, people are too busy staring at you both unashamedly to notice her gang pick-pocketing them and robbing a few shops before you disappear into crowd of costumes.

She buys you Harley's original jester outfit (the tight leather has her blushing just a little, as her hand won’t be able to help wandering over your curves). She wears a green corset, with tights and gloves that feel so lovely to the touch, complete with fake leaves that go around her. Every time your eyes go to her cleavage, she tilts your chin up with a teasing smirk, telling you ‘my eyes are up here, sugar.’

Junker Queen:

Loves Halloween, she’d definitely want to dress SCARY. Would want to see the slight fear on people’s faces, so she goes as a vampire. But she whites out her face, putting red contacts in her eyes, and covers herself in fake blood. She looks horrifyingly sexy, in a tight black outfit fitted with a cloak, and even fake fangs.

When she shows you your costume…or lack thereof you’re confused. But then with glee she tells you that you’re clearly the vampire’s plaything, the tasty morsel she drags around. That’s why you’re in a short white nightdress, with lacy stockings and garters. She paints red marks on your neck and wrists like you’ve been bitten (and even offers to leave some real marks, for the sake of realism of course)

Kiriko:

Another one who loves Halloween, and you both scroll through Pinterest for hours collecting ideas before you decide on what to wear to the Halloween party you’d been invited to.

You go as Daphne and Velma, and you both do a coin toss to decide who gets who. She gets Daphne, dressing in a tight purple dress with white go-go boots, whereas you get an orange jumper and red skirt, with some black rimmed glasses to complete it.

Kiriko insists on pulling up your long socks for you, kissing up your leg to tease you. You get her back though, running your hands down her dress under the guise of smoothing it down, so you can feel her up. On second thoughts…maybe you both are gonna be late for the party.

Mercy:

Surprisingly can be a little self conscious about dressing up, despite how much she actually loves it. So having you also be enthusiastic helps her a lot. You show her lots of pictures, but she seems the most curious about Kim Possible and Shego. You assume she wants to be Kim, but you couldn’t be more wrong.

So on the night, your jaw drops to the floor when you see her in the skintight black and green body suit, blonde hair tucked away underneath a curled black wig. She looks stunning, as she tells you she wanted to dress as the opposite of how she normally presents, an angel into a demon so to speak.

But when she holds your waist where your black crop top ends, your knees almost buckle out how gorgeous she is. And it makes your eyes wander to attempt to find how exactly she zipped it up…

Moira:

She’d laugh at you teasingly for how much you want to match with her, but she allows you to pick her costume. For once, you can dress her up like your own doll, and dress her you do.

You pick Rapunzel and Flynn rider, with you wearing a shorter version of her purple dress, with a dainty crown, and her in as close to the film’s costume as you can. You practically drool as you see her (and you’ll probably have to show her the film, since she’s clueless as to who she’s meant to be)

Although afterwards, she’ll make teasing comments about ‘stealing’ your heart away before grabbing your crown and holding it above your head, delighting when you attempt to jump and grab it.

Sombra:

Oh man she loves Halloween; and you both go all out every year. This year, she gets the idea to do beetlejuice and Lydia. She creates a ‘sexy’ beetlejuice outfit, with the black and white striped jacket and top, with a short skirt and sheer tights. She does her makeup gorgeously, with a black smokey eye and matching lipstick, painting green patches on her face just like the film. You have to forcibly stop yourself from ogling her, before she shows you your costume.

It’s Lydia’s red wedding dress, but cut shorter which makes you roll your eyes playfully. She insists on doing your makeup for you, giving her an excuse to get close to your face so she can paint the red lipstick precisely.

Tracer:

When you both are invited to the Overwatch halloween party, she knows that she wants to do a matching costume with you. She's a pretty crafty person, so she makes it from scratch for you both.

You're Cosmo and Wanda, with Lena having made little headbands that have a crown on top, as well as a star magic wand. You wear a wig, but Lena surprised you by actually dyeing her hair, making you giggle when she emerges from the bathroom with a goofy grin. All throughout the party, you both pretend to grant other people their wishes, having a blast.

Widowmaker:

While she loves Halloween before she was experimented on, now she looks at it slightly different. Despite her usual outfits, she feels less desirable than she did before, her blue skin something she can’t seem to get past.

But she wants to move past it, for you at least, so she agrees to dress up as whatever you’d like. You dress her as marceline, with you as princess bubblegum. She laughs at the slightly juvenile outfit choices, but she can’t deny you look just lovely in your pink dress, and she can’t help but fiddle with the crown on your head. You tell her breathlessly that she looks beautiful, and she gives you a teasing spin. That night you both are practically joined at the hip, and hey if her hand slips down a few times, who’s gonna stop her?

Zarya:

She’s a little shy about dressing up. When you approach the subject about you both having a couple theme, she’s hesitant. After all, there’s not a lot of buff women in media in general, so she’s afraid of looking a little silly wearing a costume for a character that doesn’t look like her. Despite all your reassurances, you know it’s something you won’t be able to shift her on, so you get a better idea.

Booting your game console up, you make her play the last of us with you, and as soon as she sees Abby, you know your plan worked. So you both rock up to the overwatch party and Abby and Ellie, grinning as the fake blood you applied to her face really makes her eyes pop.

Men:

Baptiste:

It was while you both were doing a movie marathon that you mention the upcoming overwatch Halloween party. You both happened to be watching blade, and after remarking how hot you think he’d look in leather, the idea is sealed.

You knew you were right when you finally saw his costume, the black leather making him look alluring and dangerous. You were dressed as Abigail from the sequel, a crop top squeezing your chest and a fake bow and arrow strapped to your back. As you make your feelings known, he pulls you to his chest and whispers the filthiest things you’ve ever heard before teasingly winking at you, explaining that the taxi is waiting outside. It’s gonna be a long party…

Cole Cassidy:

Jokingly suggests you going as the cowgirl to his cowboy, but you pout and tell him you want to go as an actual costume, which includes him dressing up. He has a think, and having just watched death note with Genji, suggests Light and Misa. You beam and start to prepare the outfit on your phone, and he sighs in relief that you didn’t seem to pick up on the fact he suggested it so he can see how you look in the ensemble.

And god is it worth the wait, when you come out wearing that black corset, stockings barely reaching your plush thighs as you give him a spin that nearly has you flashing him with how short the skirt is. Although you’re just as affected, seeing him in a nicely pressed white suit and tie, strong hands clutching a fake copy of the death note. He insists on making you sit in his lap, running his hand up the corset to feel the material, before you feel just how much he likes how you look.

Doomfist:

Hadn’t even thought about Halloween, too busy to have spared it a passing glance. So in the days leading up to the holiday, you both realise that you need to sort out a costume. You’re a little stumped, but he has an idea.

Men in black was always one of his guilty pleasure films, and dressing in a suit and sunglasses was certainly easy. Although seeing you in a tight suit he’d had custom made for your measurements was certainly making his thoughts stray as you arrive. The whole night, he keeps making excuses for you to dance with him, drink with him, be with him.

Genji:

Secretly a massive nerd, has several costumes he wants to try. But he finally settles on spider-man, thinking it’ll be more identifiable than the other obscure costumes he has in mind.

He shows you his idea for you, and is delighted when you agree, and dress up as spider-gwen, tight white outfit exentuating your body and making his heart rate increase. All throughout the overwatch party, he’ll teasingly pull down the hood of your costume to get your attention. But with each playful glare you give him back, he has to force himself to not get too flustered, thinking about you giving him that glare while climbing into his lap…

Hanzo:

He initially scoffs at the concept of dressing up, seeing it as a childish activity. But he can’t seek to deny his beloved of anything, not when you look up at him with puppy eyes and beg so prettily for him to share this experience with you.

That’s how he finds himself looking at the mirror, observing him dressed as the phantom of the opera. He tries not to be a prideful man in terms of vanity, opting to focus his pride on his skills, not his looks. But he can’t deny he looks good tonight, the mask covering half his face making him look like a mysterious danger, but not one someone would shy away from. And when he sees you as Christine, your white dress glistening in the low light, he takes the opportunity to hold your hand in his gloved one and plant a kiss upon the back of it seductively. He may not be a man who emphasises his seductive qualities, but he doesn’t mind playing the part for tonight at least.

Junkrat:

Loves dressing up! Or to be more specific, loves you dressing up. Always gets off on seeing you in some sort of cosplay or costume, but you also want to see him dressed up for a change, so it's your idea to come to a compromise that'll effect you both.

After doing his makeup, and forcing him into the outfit you bought him (he thinks it's scratchy, but he'll bare it for you), you turn him to the mirror to see you've dressed him as Captain Jack Sparrow. He laughs manically when he sees himself, doing a crude voice impression to make you giggle too. You excuse yourself to the other room to put your costume on, and when you come back in dressed as Elizabeth Swan, specifically in her pirate costume, he practically drools like a puppy.

Lifeweaver:

Is delighted that you want to do a matching couple costume with him, and when you tell him your idea, he’s overjoyed.

You choose Morticia and Gomez Addams, explaining that how Gomez treats Morticia is how he treats you, so it fits! And when he gets the costume on, dear god. You love him in it, the dark colours a contrast to the usual colour palette he has.

And wow, when you come out in the tight fitting black dress, he nearly collapses. He immediately does a reference to the movie, grabbing your hand and kissing up your arm to your neck, finally to your ruby lips. You both go where you’ve been invited, but he whispers promises in your ear that tonight, he’ll ravage you in the way a gorgeous woman like you deserves.

Lucio:

Loves Halloween!! Loves the spookiness!! If anything, he’s the one to suggest a couple costume. Wants something with makeup and sfx and gore and guts and everything.

You both go as zombies, and you go all out on the disgusting makeup. When you walk the streets on the way to your party, people actually cross the street to avoid you both, something you giggle at as soon as they’re out of earshot. But to tease him, you decided to have your zombie wear tight denim shorts, so the whole time you both are partying and having fun, he has to train his eyes to look at the fake blood spattered over your cheeks as opposed to how delicious your ass looks.

Mauga :

Any excuse for a good time, he’s down, so he lets you control his costume. But he says he wants something comfortable, doesn’t want anything that’ll hinder him. So you give him a plaid shirt and jeans, telling him the mask will be the main focus. He’s a little confused at the wolf mask you give him, but you tell him to sit tight and wait until you return.

And when you do…it’s almost like he gets into character with the way he growls at the sight. You’re wearing a red riding hood outfit, corset perfectly exemplifying your figure as the frilled white shirt shows off just enough cleavage to leave him wanting more. With his big hands, he gently takes the red hood and moves it from your head, before lifting you into his arms for a kiss. All throughout the party, his eyes are firmly on you, making sure nobody gets any ideas to play with his girl. And afterwards well…he shows you just how beastly he can be.

Reaper:

Doesn’t care for dressing up, so you attempt to bribe him by saying he can just wear his normal mercenary outfit but change the mask.

And when you pull out the scream mask, he isn’t a fool. He knows what you’re doing as he slips it on, and your cheeks immediately flush at the sight. He leans into it, walking over to you before crowding you against the door, placing his hand by the side of your head and tilting his own as he asks in his raspy voice ‘do you like scary movies?’

After that…well, you both are very much late to the talon Halloween gathering, you hadn’t even gotten your costume on yet. You quickly had dressed up, but all the while his hands were around your waist, trying to convince you to ditch the party and instead have a round two with him <3

Reinhardt:

Another one who’s delighted that you want to do a couples costume, thinks it’s so cute of you to ask. But he also takes it as a competition. You both have to be the best dressed!

You both spend ages discussing ideas before you settle on one that he likes. In all honesty, you’re surprised he could actually find a Batman costume that actually fit his huge frame. But still, he looks amazing, the dark costume emphasising his muscles.

But my god when he sees you as catwoman, curves squeezed into tight leather, his knees nearly give way. Huge hands immediately wrap around your waist, brain racing a mile a minute as he attempts to compliment you in a way that doesn’t sound crude. Please tell him you don’t mind…but he fears your costume will end up ripped if you enable him too much.

Bonus venture time:

Venture:

Obviously they're excited when you tell them you want to do a couple costume...until you pull out your phone. Then they're rolling their eyes playfully and passionately explaining 'actually babe, Indiana Jones is a very poor representation of an archaeologist! I mean he doesn't even do desk based assessments before partaking in an excavation-'

But you're convincing, so that's how on Halloween night you're feeling up their muscles over the tight brown leather jacket, before playfully flicking the hat atop their head. You're dressed as Lara Croft, the tank top pushing your tits enough that their eyes are practically glued to your chest.

Although they need to get you both to the party, so they playfully get their fake whip and wrap it around your waist, dragging you out the door as you erupt in a fit of giggles.