#black tie chic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

carolmunson · 1 year ago

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is he rich like me? (wealthy!s.h. x thick!reader)

desc: hi, we've missed you here at slate insurance hq. i've been working on this WIP since i think october, having the initial idea back then and then going back and forth on it for a million years. anyway, i finally finished it. you and big money steve are finally both on the same page, so here's some porn with plot. big money steve is big money steve, and he loves to spoil his girl. especially before a big dinner deal closing with a new client. tw: 18+ minors dni. p in v sex, oral (f and m receiving), some daddy kink (it's steve c'mon) but he's pathetic, some breeding kink. casual dominance. big wealthy tings. recommended listening: time of the season - the zombies

"what's your name? who's your daddy? is he rich like me?"

Big boxes and gifts were nothing new anymore. Selfishly, they'd become expected whenever you walked in the door from work. Though, if it were totally up to Steve, you would have quit your job the moment the last box of your things came past the threshold of his Tribeca apartment in January. But having at least some semblence of your old life was important to you -- and Robin would lose her mind if she didn't have you to share an office with anymore. Steve on the otherhand, was adamant that once the first baby was on the way, you'd put your career behind you. Presumptiuous of course, considering you weren't even engaged. Tonight was a dinner -- not for the both of you, but for business. Sales pitches, deal closings, re-enrollment. He'd never take you a steakhouse for a date, he'd rather die. But, always a steakhouse for business, 'It's just more -- I don't know how to explain it baby -- money talk, red meat, stuff like that. I know you hate it, I'm sorry, but it just looks good when I bring my girl with me.' He'd make it up to you every time with a new dress, a new pair of shoes, his lips on your neck, your knees to your chest. This dinner was no different, coming in from a nail appointment and a pedicure out to see an array of boxes laid out on your side of the bed. Your main component, which you were expected to wear to dinner tonight, was a black silk dress. "It looks small, Steve," you mumble, holding it up by the skinny straps. Sometimes your wonder if he forgets how full your hips are, how things that look chic on Kate Moss can sometimes look suggestive on you. Not that he minded, he was always very suggestive whenever you dressed up.

"It got it tailored to your measurements, so it shouldn't be," he explains while tying his tie in the mirror, "Just put it on, baby. The car's gonna be here soon."

You huff a little, turning on your heels to his walk in closet -- it might as well be a second bedroom with how big it was. You laid the dress down on the center island where he keeps all of his ties and watches in specially made drawers. You eyed the dress for a moment -- it really was beautiful. Black as night with a high slit on the right side -- of course he made sure it showed some leg so he could run his fingers along the hem under the table.

You take a look at yourself in the mirror in the long line black bustier he bought you. Breasts lifted and high, nearly spilling out of the cups. You'd never seen something without straps have so much support. But then again, you'd never had a bra be custom made either. The matching satin panties sat high on your waist, cut high enough that you'd never see the lines under the silk dress.

Moment of truth, I guess, you think, taking the dress and stepping into it. You waited for the resistance when you pulled it up over your hips but it never came. You waited for the uncomfortable pull of trying to get the skinny straps over your arms and shoulders, but it didn't happen. The dress slid on like butter, like it was made for you.

Oh yeah, duh, it was made for you.

"Can you help me with the zipper, honey?" you call out. Steve still loses his breath when you call him a pet name. So overwhelmed that you want him, that you call him baby and handsome and honey. Honey, honey, honey. Maybe someday husband. Maybe.

He steps into the room with purpose, stopping short when he sees you in the dress.

"Oh, wow," he gasps, "Wow, wow, wow."

"Stop," you bloom heat when he eyes you, "C'mon help me, we gotta go soon."

He steps behind you and you can smell the cedar and sandalwood in his cologne -- having long traded his Aqua di Gio for Creed's 1992 Bois du Portugal. His fingers are warm when he trails his middle and pointer up the skin of your back where the zipper opens, just to watch you shiver. He hooks the closure at the top carefully before pulling the tab at the bottom to slowly close the dress up. At the finish, everything is pulled into place. It was perfect. Dipping and flouncing exactly where you wanted it too, every curve perfectly showcased.

“Do you know where my clutch is?” you ask him in the mirror while his fingers trace your shoulders.

“It’s on the island in the kitchen,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss over the strap of the dress, “But I have another surprise for you.”

“Another?” you ask, eyes wide. He already bought you the dress, the shoes, the lingerie. What else was left?

"Close your eyes." You do, you hear him open one of the drawers and can feel him behind you when something cold hits your chest. He fastens it at the back of you -- you know it's a necklace but it must be nice if he's having you close your eyes.

"Keep 'em closed, baby."

You hear him come around to the front of you, adjusting the necklace, feeling his breath againt your ear. His fingers trail from your shoulder, down your arm to lift your left hand up, "Stay like that." Your heart hammers, but quickly fades out when you feel him put on a bracelet. His delicate touches quicken your pulse, his scent makes your mouth water. Steve had a way of making everything romantic -- getting coffee, going to the grocery store, taking out the trash, putting jewelry on you. Jewelry he bought. Jewelry you know you'll love.

"And lastly..." he continues, while putting your hand down. His nose brushes your cheek when his nimble fingers click a pair of earrings into place -- they're heavy and cold. "Harrington," you sigh, squirming at the pinch of the back going too far into your lobes, "I can put these on myself." "Don't be such a baby, Manhattan," he tsks, smoothing your hair away from your ears before standing back and looking at you. He smiles big at the sight, you simply adorned in his gifts. Steve doesn't know whether to cry or kiss you when he feels his heart leap in his chest. It happens all the time when he stares too long at you, no matter what you're doing. You're his. "Can I open them?" "You can open them," he encourages. When your eyes flutter open and adjust to the light, you see them in the mirror. A platinum set tennis necklace sat across your chest, a matching bracelet on your wrist. Earrings in your ears to complete the collection. You gape at your reflection, mouth hanging open while you try to wrap your head around it -- about how much money you're wearing right now.

"Steven -- they're beautiful..." you gasp out. He stands behind you in the mirror again, grinning at your reaction.

"Sorry there's no ring," he pouts before kissing your cheek, "Not yet, at least."

It was an every other day mention -- the ring. You'd only been officially together for half a year, but Steve knew what he wanted. It felt like you both had been together for six years anyway. You knew the ins and outs of each other, literally and figuratively -- there couldn't be anyone else quite like him. It helt like you both had PHDs in each other's likes and dislikes, needs and wants, goals and dreams.

"Don't worry," you breathe, still not over the sparkle on the rest of your limbs, "This is...this is plenty, babe." He burns in his cheeks -- babe. He's your babe! He presses a kiss to your cheek, settling by your ear to mumble a heady 'I love you,' from the deep base of his chest. His lower lip coasts your earlobe and your eyes roll back in your head, feeling his warm breath fan over your jaw. "I love you so much," he murmurs, hand gripping your waist, you can feel his grin against your skin, "But I need you to hurry the fuck up or we're gonna be late, angel." "You're so annoying," you glower when his sensual demeanor turns into a mean snicker, tapping your ass to get you to move out into the kitchen.

It took every ounce of will power in his body to not cover you in hickeys in the car. He had to give it to himself, he knew how to dress you for stuff like this, and God did your body alway deliver. He had to keep looking out the window so he didn't catch a glimpse of your crossed legs in the rear view mirror of the Bentley. It didn't help that you smelled like heaven, dirving him crazy with every movement, sending Mulger's Angel through his olfactory straight to his boy brain.

He helped you out of the car and waked you arm in arm to the door of the restaurant, always sure to be there at least 15 minutes before his guests. You got accustomed to the song and dance: exchange pleasantries, only ask the wife of whoever he's with direct questions, feign some form of old school obedience, let Steve do all the talking and so help you God if you roll your eyes once he has no problem letting you pay for when you get home. Always in good fun, of course.

Tonight is no different, you look over the menu, sharing sweet moments with each other before his guest arrives. Guessing the status of every couple there, what they're talking about, how long they've been together. A few celebrities come in laying low and you never get excited but Steve always does, still deep down a sweet boy from Indiana. "I think I'm gonna do the salmon," I say with a sigh, "I know that's boring."

"Not boring, honey," he shakes his head, taking off his glasses to clean them off before settling the silver frames back on, "The salmon's really good here." "You're really good here," you tease. "Yeah?" his brow quirks, a smile pulling at his lips, "I heard you're really good here." "Actually, you're really good here," you start to giggle. "Surprised to hear you say that because it was reported in the Culiniary section of the New York Times that you're actually really good here," he laughs, but you're both cut short when you see the m'aitre d guiding your guests to the table. You keep giggling, sitting up straight and crossing your legs under the table cloth so that your thigh peaked out of the slit of the dress. "No more fun, Harrington," you say faux seriously, "No laughing, we have to be boring now." "So boring," he agrees in a fake whisper, but his demeanor changes on a dime when his guest and his wife arrive. Steve stands immediately, hand out for a firm shake.

"Mr. Parker, good to see you tonight," he flashes an award winning smile, the kind that make older men wish he was their son and older women wish he was their husband, "Mrs. Parker, you look stunning. He let's you leave the house looking this good?"

Only Steve can make a joke like that and have it be charming. He pulls the fake string in your back and you start your performance as Business Dinner Barbie as soon as everyone sits down. When the sommelier arrives Steve orders a bottle of white and red for the table and when the waitress arrives he gets himself and Mr. Parker their second highest priced scotch. 'Just because it's the most expensive doesn't mean it's good, they just wanna get the suckers to buy it.' You could mouth the words as he says them at this point, the same schpiel every time.

"And would you like to put your entree orders in as well?" the waitress asks. Mr. Parker orders the steak dinner, rare, which doesn't surprise you because he sort of looks like someone who gets joy out of consuming blood. Mrs. Parker orders the salad because of course she does, she's never eaten a starch in her life, or at least not in the past forty years. Steve places his dinner order, always filet mignon medium rare with a side salad. Steve takes your menu from you to pass to the waitress when her attention turns to you for your order. You open your mouth to speak but Steve's hand finds yours with a light squeeze, keeping eye contact with the waitress. "She'll have the glazed salmon, medium. And I hate to bother the chef but can we pass the broccoli rabe on for asparagus?" he asks, eyes dropping from the waitress to yours as she answers 'Absolutely, Mr. Harrington'. You swallow when his gaze lingers on you, a smirk flicking on the ends of his lips, a moment only shared by the two of you.

"Thank you so much," he replies, still looking at you, "She just doesn't really care for it." He smiles back up at the waitress as he finishes his sentence, pulse quickening when he sees you adjust slightly in your seat. You liked that, and he likes that you liked that. He continues the conversation with a winning smile, pretending like he doesn't know you're melting next to him. Staring at him in his suit acting like you care what he's talking about, like you're not watching the way the leather band of his watch hugs his wrist, how he gesticulates when he talks, his long fingers and big veined hands emphasizing his words. The way his brow furrows when he listens, the slight tensing of his jaw while he thinks of what to say next. While Mr. Parker discusses the potential pitfalls of partnering with Slate Insurance, you feel one of Steve's big hands under the table, resting on your knee. His thumb traces circles on your joint for a minute, you figure it's a comfort touch, something to ground him while he considers his next move. You learn quickly that it's not that at all. He lets a finger trace slowly and softly up over your knee and half way up your inner thigh before grabbing it, slowly and intentionally massaging the fat there, slipping his fingers under the black silk. Your back straightens in your chair, trying to keep your cool while he continues -- soft grazes with his finger tips, back and forth, inching further up as he goes. You grab his hand tightly under the thick white table cloth, catching his lips curl at the edges while he speaks -- no one else would be wise to it. You curse him silently at his ability to always play it cool.

"Have some water, honey," he says sweetly, taking his hand from your grasp and pushing your glass toward you, "You're looking a little flushed." You swallow, your smile a little tight while you take a sip and he watches. A battle between the two of you that you know you've already lost. The cool water passes your lips and you're nearly reinvigorated to try your hand but he comes in with a final strike -- a death blow -- "Atta girl," Steve grins. You've never wanted to pull him out of a restaurant by his collar more than you do right now. Just like always, dinner is a success. Steve always closes the deal before the second scotch so that the cool down conversation can feel more friendly. 'You want the client to feel like they made a friend when they leave so that they trust you. That's business, angel.' He'd say. You say your goodbyes and tell Mrs. Parker you'd be happy to join her book club -- you're unsure how many book clubs you've 'joined' at this point, how many invites got 'lost in the mail'. "Very darling woman you've got there, Steven," Mr. Parker says as he and Steve shake hands, the final seal.

"Isn't she?" he asks, giving you a quick once over. Your blood rushes in your ears at his look, the rest of their conversation muffled by an infuriating need for him. As Mr. Parker and his wife leave, he cleans off his glasses while you both wait for his credit card back for the bill.

"Beautiful job tonight, honey," he smiles, putting his frames back on.

"Do not speak to me," you say with a smile, heat pooling through you while a soft pink appears on his cheeks. "Don't worry," he shakes his head, getting his card back and signing off on the receipt. He helps you out of your chair like a gentlemen, passing you your purse as a means to press a kiss to your cheek, "We won't be doing any talking when we get home."

By the time you get home to the Tribeca apartment, all of your lipstick has been worn off. You're lucky if Vinny doesn't quit being Steve's driver after all of that. "Sorry," he says to Vin while you get out of the Bentley, "Won't happen again, I'm so sorry."

You try not to count how many hundreds Steve flips through when he goes into his wallet, you try not to see how many he slips his driver in embarrassment. Sometimes it still made your chest tight. "You say that every Friday night," Vinny laughs, taking the money, "And every Saturday I gotta get the interior detailed. Goodnight, Mr. Harrington."

The air is a little humid when you get out of the car, sticking to your skin slightly -- the soft rush of the river calms you in the quiet of the night, and there he is, in the glow of the lights outside of your building. He doesn't say anything when he approaches you, just pulls you in for another air stealing kiss. Steve's big hand pushing you in at the nape of your neck to give him better access to you. You frown when he breaks away, a small one, a gentle tug on your eye brows an lips. His hand drops to yours, taking you inside, greeting the doorman and front desk concierge by name as he does every morning and night.

The brightness of the lobby is a harsh contrast to the low light outside and the burst of air conditioning makes your nipples peak in your bra. Goosebumps trail up your arms, but you aren't sure if it's the blast of cold air or the way Steve impatiently waits for the elevator to get you both upstairs. The door barely closes when he's on you, shoving you against the wall of the front walk way. "How dare you," he murmurs, lips peppering kisses from your lips to your jaw, tongue licking hot at your neck, "Look this fucking good all night." "It's kind of your fault," you laugh, panting slightly while his teeth graze over a sensitive spot by your collar bone. You kick off your heels, leaving $2600 on the floor of Steve's apartment.

"Mostly yours," he grunts, pulling you over to the living room after taking off his own shoes. He opens the big vertical blinds so that the city glitters into the penthouse apartment. Steve wastes no time however, getting behind you the same way he did earlier, fingers nimbling unzipping your dress. You both watch it fall to the floor in a delicate puddle, black water silk at your feet.

Now there was $6600 on the floor. Steve takes a second to admire you in your skivvies, his bottom lip tucking between his teeth. He surveys you like a work of art, like a statue carved just for him. You shudder while he circles you, feeling the heat of his ambers eyes burning with need on your skin. He chuckles when he notices you get a flustered, settling down on the couch. He motions for you to you come forward and while you are never one to listen, you make your way over to him without question.

"You like when I spoil you?" he asks huskily, pulling you down to straddle his lap. One arm wraps tight around your waist while the other wraps delicately in your hair. Your stomach presses against him while your breasts heave in his face. He pulls your head down to kiss you, hungry and powerful, while his hips press up to grind against your satin covered cunt.

"Mhm," you whimper into his mouth. His hands reach behind you to the hooks and ties at the back of your bustier. Steve's fingers never met a bra that they couldn't take off in an impressive flick of the wrist.

"Let's get all this off you," he mumbles breathily before sliding his lips from your mouth to your neck. The bustier falls forward slightly before he gets impatient, pulling the straps down your arms before discarding it on the ground. You reach for the necklace but he stops you, reaching back up to capture you in a hungry kiss. "Keep the jewelry on," he says, ambers eyes meeting yours. He's stern in his request and you nod obediently, hands lowering down to meet his chest.

Now there was $8,000 on the floor.

His hands find your breasts and he lets out a rugged groan, massaging them with his hands while he presses kisses down onto the soft skin.

"You can't come with me to dinner looking like this anymore," he murmurs between kisses, "Barely closed that deal. Too busy staring at these tits."

"Steve," you gasp out, giggling, "You closed it just fine."

"Mmm," he nods, mouth occupied by taking a nipple between his lips. You can feel the flutter of his tongue over it while he looks up at you, eye shining wickedly. Your whine just encourages him to keep going. Your hips press down against him, reminding him what you want more than his mouth, than his hands. He pops his lips off of you, the sound echoing in the open living room.

“Is there something you want?” he asks sweetly, leaning back on cushions of the couch. You nod, rocking your hips over his hard cock in his pants, letting out a soft tiny moan at each bit of friction.

“You're so spoiled angel,” he teases, thumbs brushing over your nipples before rolling them between his fingers, making you whine. His voice still dripping in depth and heat, “I think you should work for it.”

“I thought the whole point of this was so that I didn't have to work anymore," you tease back, leaning forward to kiss him. He hums into your mouth and you can feel him smirk into the kiss. Bastard, you think to yourself.

“Hmm,” he considers, palm skating over your thigh, “You do make a good counter point."

“I think giving into my demands is a good return on investment,” you assure, hips rolling against him in a way that makes his thighs tense up, "Imagine the long term benefits?"

He groans when you parrot him, getting harder at the thought of you genuinely listening to his business speak when you do these dinners. He squeezes the fat of your hips, tongue gliding over his kiss bitten lower lip while you take off his tie and start to unbutton his shirt. “Take these off,” he says, looking up at you while his finger traces your panty line. You heat up when he says it, a smug smile blooming on your face. His actions only confirming that he’ll always give in, “If you ask for want you want, I'll consider it."

“Oh, you'll pass that on to your team? I'd love to be considered,” you ask with a laugh, but he's done joking around, a tap to your thigh reminds you that he asked you to undress. You stand up off of him, your feet meeting the cold hardwood, your panties sliding down your smooth legs.

Now there was $8250 on the floor.

He undoes his belt while you stand in front of him, eyes glued to yours while he does it. You swallow when he winks, thighs pressing together — you know he notices. Steve shimmies his pants down slightly, enough that he can keep his legs spread wide while pulling out his length. It's clear that he's painfully hard, a guttural groan escaping him while his hand offers him some minor relief, “Is this what you want?”

“Y-yeah,” your voice barely above a whisper.

“Why don’t you suck on it first and I’ll tell you when you can ride it," he smirks, and without thinking, you start getting to your knees. He stops you before you can make it to the floor, putting a throw pillow beneath you to protect you from the hardwood. Steve can't help but kiss you softly once you make it to your knees, he was never any good at being mean and forceful with you. You'd been right the whole time, he couldn't boss you around -- at least not for too long.

You unbutton the rest of his dress shirt that will now need to be dry cleaned and repressed. You let a hand trail down his chest, gliding through the hair there while pressing wet hot kisses down to his pelvis. Pulling some of the skin between your teeth to leave red and purple bruises behind.

“That’s it, baby,” his breath blends with his words as he adjusts on the couch, leaning back so you have more access to him. You kiss close to the base, tongue trailing over the crease of his thigh, breath ghosting over his shaft while your mouth stays occupied with his heavy sac. You feel him lean back, relaxing while you work him up, his hands coming behind his head, arms bending at the elbows. "Just like that, honey," Steve purrs, "Just like that."

Your hand reaches up to stroke him, slow and deliberate, mouth getting wetter while you leave sloppy kisses at the base and on his pelvis. Your thumb glides over the shining bead of pre-cum pooling out of the tip, teasing over the seam just under it. Your tongue finally glides up to the tip expertly, letting your lower lip catch on the head -- his eyes meet yours behind his glasses, burning with need. It feels cruel to keep him waiting when he looks at you like that, so you don't wait. While keeping eye contact you adjust, taking him all the way to the back of your throat without so much as a wince.

“Oh fuck, good girl,” he gasps into a growl, hand reactively entwining in your hair, “That’s daddy’s girl.”

You groan into the praise, sucking diligently on his cock, thighs pressing tight together. Your back arches into a posture he can only recognize as needy, making him grin while he runs his free hand through his own hair.

“Learned to like that, huh? Whose your daddy, angel?” You smirk up at him in response, tongue gliding from the base to the tip again, taking half of his shaft in your mouth before taking it out with a low laugh, "You are, honey."

His eyes roll back, hips canting up towards your mouth while his grip in your hair tightens. You press him by the thighs back down onto the couch eyeing him while he whimpers when your tongue traces the curve of his cock again. Always on top even on your knees. "Fuck, don't stop," he breathes out. He lets go of your hair, arm reaching behind him to clutch the back of the couch. His hips roll up again, disrupting your rhythm slightly. You taste the salt of him on your tongue while you continue, a soft giggle erupting from your throat, sending shockwaves through him.

"Having fun, honey?" he asks, pulling himself away from you slightly. You sit back on your heels and smile, nodding. He leans forward, blessing you with kisses, deep and slow, "Let's take this to the bedroom."

"I'm on top, right?" you ask. He smirks, watching the jewelry glitter on you in the low light. "Not a chance," he giggles darkly, "Not tonight. Really wanna show you how bad I want you tonight."

"Oh, just tonight?" you ask smartly, getting up from your knees to head to the bedroom.

"Every night," he says with a roll of the eyes, getting up and tossing his dress shirt and tie on the couch. He watches you as you walk slowly to the bedroom, eyeing your smooth skin, the way your hips and waist twist when you walk. He knows you're walking like this on purpose, but he'll never complain. You fall back on the sheets you've been sleeping in for six months and he watches your breasts and thighs and tummy jiggle when you land. Steve grins, sliding off his slacks, socks, and boxer briefs before stepping between your legs, standing over you while you lay on the bed. "Hi," you say, a genuine smile pulling at your mouth when you look up at him. A stripe of amber light from outside pools into the room from between the billowing white curtains, coating you both in a dreamy haze.

"Hi, baby," he says back, his hands reaching down to slide from just under your breasts to your waist, "So beautiful," he whispers to himself.

"Move up a little for me," he instructs, his voice sweet and deep. You scooch up the bed, settling between the mountain of pillows leaning against the short head board while he settles between your legs again. He watches you and the way your body manipulates when he reaches down behind your thighs, pressing the tops of them to your chest. He leans forward, pressing his own chest against what can be felt of yours. Your knees are at your decolletage when he leans in closer to give you another deep kiss before leaning back again, quickly tossing his glasses on the bedside table.

You both stay quiet while he strokes himself a few times, smirking down at your glistening core while he lines himself up to push in. You aren't sure why, but every time he does, it feels like the first time.

"Oh my God," you whine while he pushes in slow, "Stevie." "I know, angel," he nods, gliding in all the way to the hilt. He grunts when he feels you grip him tight, trying to pull out slightly only to get sucked back in. He grips the back of your thighs for leverage, pulling back half way and pressing in, feeling you get wetter around him while he picks up a rhythm.

"Shiii-Steve, that's so deep," you whine. It only encourages him to push in deeper.

"Gotta practice, honey," he grins, starting to pant while he looms over you, letting go of your legs to get close to you again, "Need it to stick when we do it for real."

You pulse over him when he says it, back trying to arch despite your position beneath him.

"You like when I talk like that?" he whispers, his voice sliding back to gravely in your ear, "When I tell you how bad I wanna cum inside you?"

"Mhm," you whimper, nodding against his searing kiss, working himself up the more he thinks about it. "Get you all fuckin' full with me?" he growls, "Keep you nice and pregnant the second I get that ring on your finger?" You burn with lust while he babbles on, wrapping your legs around his waist while his thrusts get rough and desperate. Your body shakes and quivers while his hips slam against you, filthy wet squelches filling the high ceilings of the room. Mixing with a symphony of both of your sighs and moans, the smell of your sweat mixing with his cologne. Slam, slam, slam, slam, slam. The headboard beating the wall between the windows with a thud over and over again. "I fucking love you," he grits out. "I love you, too," you whine, eyes rolling in the back of your head. Heat licks at your lower belly, building while the slight curve of his cock makes the head brush over your g-spot in rapid succession, "Baby, I'm..." "Yeah?" he asks with a knowing smile, "So close for me, hm?" He sits back on his calves, still able to thrust while he looks down at you. His thumb presses against your lips, asking for entry. You let him in, making sure to get it extra slick with your spit before he takes it out, reaching down to slide it in circles over your clit. "How's that, angel?" he asks, thrusts not showing a hint of slowing down, "Does that feel good?"

Your thighs shake, eyes pricking with tears, shining while they look up at him. Well he's pleased with himself, you think, making a mental note to throw him on his back tomorrow and ride him into next week until he's a babbling mess. "It does, huh?" he asks softly, nodding down at you while you nod up at him. "Shit," he huffs, "Oh fuck."

"Not so...oh my god, oh wow -- not so t-tough now, are you?" you giggle. He groans when you giggle, Why are you so fucking precious? he thinks to himself, Who allowed this?

Heat rises even more, the jewelry starting to feel clingy as it sticks to your shining skin. Steve keeps his pace, eyes closing softly while he leans his head back, the column of his neck begging to be bitten and kissed by you. You whimper, pulling at the clasp of the bracelet, tossing it onto the carpet next to the bed. Now there was $48,250 on the floor. Feeling less trapped and more desperate to destroy his neck and chest, you sit up, your manicured hand pressing against his hair covered pecs. It doesn't take long for him to allow it, looking up at you while you climb on top of him.

"That's it, honey, give it to me," he breathes, "Show me how bad you want it."

Your hips move with a slutty percision that he loves, grinding against him for your own pleasure and his. He hisses when you bite down on his neck, letting out a soft laugh when you pull at his hair, "Come for me, angel, c'mon." He hears you pant in his ear while you lean over him, the diamonds in your necklace shimmering in his eyes. You sigh, sitting up straight, unclasping the necklace while you bounce on top of him, gently tossing it to meet the bracelet. Now there was $198,250 on the floor. "Do not," he groans out, hands grabbing your hips with bruising grip, "Put those earrings on the ground, we will never find them until a post ends up in my fucking heel." You laugh, your own head leaning back, making him yearn to taste the column of your neck this time. But your laugh doesn't last long, it morphs into guttural moans while he holds you in place, thrusting up into you in an unforgiving speed. Steve gasps, watching your breasts bounce in front of him while he continues on unrelenting. "Baby..." You squeak out, "Steve...oh fuck, oh Steve -- Steve, Steve, Steve..." The heat builds and builds and builds. Your eyes water while his cock bullies into you. The head hitting your g-spot, pushing in deeper while he goes. You let out a cry, nails digging into his broad freckles shoulders while our hips slam down on him, thighs vibrating while white blooms behind your eyes.

"Good girl," He coos while you shake, collapsing onto his chest, "That's it, angel, that's my girl." He eases you onto your back again, giving you slow kisses on your neck and chest while he chases his own orgasm. It doesn't take long, nearly on the precipice of cumming since he zipped you up in your dress earlier in the evening. His mouth gapes while he sends his seed over your tummy, painting you with ropes of glistening white. "Jesus Christ..." he gasps, settling himself with some big deep breaths that expand his sculpted chest. You both look at each other, panting and sweating, the passion wearing off to a pure and gentle love for each other. You both start laughing. "We swear we're sexy," you laugh up at him. His smile makes you melt all over again. You watch him ease up off the bed, leaning forward from the side to kiss your forehead. He picks up the jewelry, inspecting it for missing gems, or - god forbid - a scratch, and places it carefully on the side table with his glasses. "Wanna get cleaned up with me?" he asks, tilting his head, "Can you stand?" "Oh please," you roll your eyes, sitting up slowly, "I can..sort of stand." You already feel the ache between your legs from taking him, knowing you'll need at least a day to recover from something so big. He helps you up, taking you into the en suite bathroom and getting the water just right for you to step into. "I'll be right back," he says, pulling you in for a kiss on the temple before he disappears in the steam. When he returns behind the glass of the standing shower, covered top to bottom in dark green tile, he passes you a glass of Malbec that matches his. "A little celebratory night cap," he says sweetly. "To closing the deal," you grin, giving his glass a clink to cheers. "To closing the deal," he says back before you both take a sip.

"I know you're not wearing those earings in the shower, Manhattan," he sighs, putting the glass on the product shelf out of the water. He reaches for you ears but you yelp playfully, stepping away from him, "You're gonna be the fuckin' death of me, honey. I swear."

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x thick!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fan fiction #pbv!steve #steve harrington fluff

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sapphire-writes · 1 year ago

Text

Our Last Summer (modern!HOTD)

part 8 of 10 || series masterlist || previous part || next part

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: The Kingsroad Country Club hosts its annual gala and auction. An unwelcome guest causes trouble for you and the gang.

word count: 6.2k

rating: Mature/Explicit/18+

warnings below the cut!

warnings: language, fighting, and mentions of violence, slight exhibitionism, oral (male-receiving, ball play), reader domming a lil bit, dirty talk, praise, cum eating, kissing

note: went a lil crazy with this one pls forgive my feral nature

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

as always, comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated but not expected ❤️

“Torture,” Helaena says, her lips in a deep pout, “This is actual torture.”

You glance over at her as you all exit the car that dropped you off at the Kingsroad Country Club. It had just been you, Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena; Alicent had been driven separately several hours earlier to help prepare.

Helaena smoothes the silver blue dress, looking rather uncomfortable yet stunning. You can’t imagine any of the Targaryens looking bad ever; they’re all blessed with angelic good looks. But Helaena is clearly out of her element in the silk dress and heels. You’d helped her with her makeup, though it was hard to get her to sit still.

You’d gotten ready with Helaena, as Baela was summoned to Dragonstone earlier in the day. The whole family was arriving together, to make an entrance.

Aegon and Aemond are dressed similarly in suits and ties; the boys truly had it easiest. Though Aemond wore a black tie whereas Aegon wore a deep green one.

You smooth your own dress, feeling a little self-conscious around the Targaryens. You’d chosen a silky black dress when you’d gone shopping a few weeks ago; it hugs every curve, falling to the middle of your thighs. You’d paired it with some hoops and a layered necklace (borrowed from Helaena).

“You look incredible, Hel,” you assured her, and she rolled her eyes.

“I mean, I know,” she tells you, “I’m a hot person. You too! Very sexy chic,” she teases, grabbing your hand and twirling you.

Aemond smirks, watching the display. Your cheeks warm as you focus on not tripping in your heels. Helaena stops spinning you, pulling your back against her front.

“Careful, Aemond,” she teases, “I just might steal your girl.”

“Alright, enough,” Aemond says, reaching forward and taking your hand, pulling you from Helaena’s embrace.

She laughs as Aemond pulls you close before closing the car door. Aegon has propped himself against the hood of the car, attempting to light a cigarette. Helaena moves past him, smacking him on the back of the head. The cigarette falls to the ground and Aegon groans.

“Bitch,” he mutters.

“Watch it,” Helaena warns, heading up the steps, “Let’s go find Mom.”

Aegon trails behind her, flicking his lighter shut and shoving it into his pocket.

Aemond’s fingers are still intertwined with yours as he moves to follow his siblings; you can feel the coolness of the rings that adorn his slender fingers. He stops just at the front of the car, leaning against it until he’s face to face with you. He holds your hand the whole time, pulling you forward gently.

“Shouldn’t we head in?” you ask, now standing between his legs. He drags your hand up, letting it go when it rests on his shoulder.

“In a minute,” he murmurs, bringing his hands to your waist, “First I want to tell you how beautiful you look.”

Your face warms and you blink rapidly, eyes downcast. For someone you originally thought was just a fuckboy, Aemond Targaryen was turning out to be quite the romantic. He somehow knew all the things to say that would send your heart fluttering in your chest, and turn your legs to jelly.

Aemond watches your reaction, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles. You wet your lips, looking up at him.

“Tell me then,” you tease, and he gently tugs you forward capturing your lips in a kiss.

It’s slow and passionate; heat curls in your belly along with a desperate ache between your legs. It trickles through your veins, flooding your entire body with euphoria. You’ve never felt this feeling before; this almost painful need for another person. Aemond deepens the kiss, letting his tongue slip into your waiting mouth. He tastes of spearmint, and something spicy; the rum Aegon had insisted you all try before heading over.

Aemond pulls away, the slight smile still on his face as he rubs circles on your hips with his thumbs.

“You look beautiful,” he tells you, so close you can feel his lips moving with the words he speaks.

You smile at his words, tilting your head to bump the tip of your nose against his. Aemond releases a breath as you do so, cupping your cheek with one large hand and pressing a softer kiss to your lips.

“Let’s go,” he tells you, and you head inside.

The Kingsroad Country Club is nothing short of extravagant when you make your way into the main ballroom. You’d deposited your coat in a room down the hall for safekeeping. Your eyes are wide as saucers as you take in the gorgeous arrangement of colorful flowers throughout the room, and cream-colored silk streamers that hang from the ceiling.

Ice sculptures of various mythical creatures are scattered throughout the room, several of them dragons you can’t help but notice. Everyone is dressed to the nines; you’ve never been to such a fancy event. You spot Sara, clad in a deep purple dress and she waves at you, nudging Cregan who stands beside her. He gives you a friendly wave as well.

Floris is here; you spot her helping explain something to an older woman. She smiles at you brightly and mouths talk later, before returning to her task. Your chest warms as you scout the crowd for Baela and Rhaena. You know they’d arrived before you as you received a frantic text from Baela as you were getting ready. Help me, followed by a skull emoji.

“I’ll get you a drink,” Aemond murmurs, leaning down to speak in your ear. You nod, continuing to look for the twins, and he walks over to the bar.

Helaena’s silver head comes into view; she’s standing next to Alicent who is speaking rapidly. Helaena’s expression is pained and she tugs her shoulder away from her mother’s reaching hand. The dynamics of this family are throwing you through loops.

You hear a familiar voice call your name, and turn to see Will Tyrell accompanied by someone you don’t recognize. You give him a friendly smile as he approaches. Will had been more than understanding when you’d reached out to him earlier in the week; you’d told him while you had a lovely time, you thought it would be best to remain friends.

Will, being the total sweetheart he is, agreed without hesitation. He makes his way over to you, wearing a white button-down shirt with an open dark navy jacket with matching slacks. His brown curls are slicked back against his skull. His friend is dressed similarly; clad in a deep maroon jacket and slacks.

His features are sharp, almost fox-like. You notice he has rather large ears, hidden behind strawberry-blonde curls and a dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose.

“Good to see you,” you tell Will, pulling him into a friendly hug. You glance awkwardly at his friend, waiting to be introduced when Aegon joins you.

“Hughie!” Aegon says, pulling in the stranger with his hand and clasping him on the shoulder, “Been a while man.”

“Yeah, good to see you,” he answers with a grin, “Been in Highgarden for most of the summer.”

His eyes drift over to you, “Hugh Florent.”

He holds his hand out which you shake, and smiles politely. Hugh’s eyebrow raises as you tell him your name, gaze flickering to Will who is lost in conversation with Aegon. Something about sharks from what you can hear.

“You’ve been hanging with Will this summer, yeah?” Hugh asks, lips curving into a slight smirk.

“We’ve been out a couple of times, yeah,” you tell him, as Aemond returns to your side. You feel him slide an arm around your waist, gently tugging you closer to his warm body.

Hugh’s eyes flicker between you both as Aemond hands you a glass of champagne. You thank him, taking a small sip; the bubbles leave a tingling sensation on your tongue.

“Aemond,” Hugh says with a grin, “You’ve decided to make an appearance.”

“My mother organized the gala and auction,” Aemond answers, his voice rather cold, “Important to support her.”

“Are you bidding on anything?” Hugh asks, placing his hands in his pockets.

“If something catches my eye,” Aemond answers, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

Hugh’s eyes slide over to you once more.

“Seems like something already did,” Hugh comments, as Will hands him a beer, “Thanks, man.”

You feel Aemond’s arm tighten around you, and he gives Hugh a tight smile, eye narrowing slightly. You glance up at him, feeling the tension rolling off his lean, muscular form. Aemond tilts down to your height, his lips beside your ear.

“Have you seen Baela yet?” he asks softly, and you shake your head, “I saw her while I was getting your drink; I’ll take you to her.”

And with that, Aemond leads you away from Hugh, giving him a polite nod as you exit. Aemond keeps his arm around you as you move through the crowd and onto the large patio where some guests have begun mingling.

“Who is he?” you ask, keeping your voice low.

“One of Aegon’s fraternity brothers,” Aemond answers, jaw clenched, “Best to stay away from him.”

You couldn’t agree more. The uneasy feeling in your stomach from the interaction with Hugh doesn’t last long, as you spot Baela and Rhaena, along with Daemon and Rhaenyra. Luke is seated next to his mother fiddling with his tie. Rhaenyra scolds him before running her hand over the back of his head.

Baela tilts her wine glass upwards, finishing the dregs before abandoning the glass on the table. Her eyes widen as she sees you and she uses the moment to pull away from her father and stepmother. Daemon makes a face but you watch Rhaenyra slide her hand into his, shaking her head gently.

Baela’s arms sling around your shoulders pulling you into a tight hug. She smells like the perfume you got her for her last birthday; light and floral.

“Holy shit you smoke show!” she comments, admiring your look, “Damn Aemond, you’re a lucky guy.”

“Insanely,” Aemond agrees.

“You look stunning Baela, holy fuck,” you tell her. Baela is a goddess in her aquamarine-colored dress that clings to every curve.

Some of her curls are pulled back from her face by silver pins adorned with seahorses with pale blue gemstones for eyes. The rest of her curls hang freely down her back. Glitter shimmers on her chest and arms, matching the highlighter atop her cheekbones. Baela looks the part of a sea enchantress, ready to drag those who cross her to a watery grave.

Rhaena’s dress is similar, though a shade of pale pink. She waves at you, but stays close to her father’s side, standing between him and Rhaenyra. Her locs hang freely and you can see gemstones sparkling around her eyes.

Baela preens at your praise, giving you a little twirl.

“I mean, it was nothing really,” she says, “Thank god you’re here though, it’s been so boring.”

“How’s your dad?” you ask.

“Fine, I guess,” she says with a sigh, “He got what he wanted. The happy little family all together.” She crosses her arms in front of her.

“No Jace?”

“He said he didn’t think he’d be back in time,” she reminds you, “Regatta is still 2 weeks away, he’ll be back for Luke.”

“That’s good,” you tell her. Luke looks lost without his brother. Smaller.

Baela sighs, looking back at her family. Rhaena jerks her chin, motioning for Baela to rejoin.

“Gods,” Baela grumbles, “Probably another picture. I had to take one with Rhaenyra earlier.”

“Sorry,” you tell her, wincing.

“It’s whatever at this point,” Baela says, rolling her eyes, “Catch you in a bit? The fireworks are supposed to be really cool this year.”

You nod, giving her hand a squeeze.

“You got this,” you tell her and she smiles, her eyes sad.

“Thank you,” she says, turning to Aemond, “Take care of my girl.”

“Will do,” Aemond promises.

Baela turns back suddenly.

“Shoot, will you do me a favor?” she asks, and you quickly nod, “Grab my phone? It's in the coat room. It’s my black one with the seahorse buttons.”

“Of course,” you tell her as Rhaena calls her name, “Go, go I’ll grab it and be right back.”

Baela thanks you again, heading back over to Rhaena and the others. You glance up at Aemond, handing him your glass.

“I’ll be right back,” you tell him.

“Want me to come with you?” he asks.

“It’s alright, I’ll only be a moment,” you assure him, “Besides, maybe check on Hel? She looks like she’s in pain.”

Aemond chuckles slightly but agrees as you head out of the ballroom and down the hall. The music dies as you make your way further to the uninhabited side of the country club, pushing open the glass doors that lead to the smaller room where all the coats have been kept.

There are other things present as well, some auction items to be revealed later in the night. You make your way to the women’s coats, fingering through them for Baela’s. It’s easy to spot with the buttons and you grab her phone, sliding it between your breasts. You remove your phone, as that’s where you’d been stashing it, and check your notifications.

“Hiding from someone?” a voice calls and you turn around, startled.

Your phone drops from your hand, landing on the ground with a loud thump. Hugh Florent winces apologetically, leaning forward to grab it. He holds it out to you.

“Thanks,” you tell him, taking your phone with a tight smile.

“No problem,” he says, moving deeper into the room before throwing himself down onto a nearby chaise lounge, “I always try to escape these things too, they’re terribly boring.”

He pulls out a cigarette from his suit pocket, placing it between his lips before lighting it. The sweet smell of smoke fills the air, making your nose wrinkle.

“You’re not hiding from Will, I hope?” he asks, before exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“I’m not hiding from anyone,” you tell him, “I don’t think you’re allowed to smoke in here.”

A smile forms on his face around the cigarette that dangles from his lips.

“Our little secret then,” he says, causing the hair on your arms to stand on edge, “Want one?”

“No,” you tell him, “I should be getting back.”

“Stay a minute,” he insists.

“I really-”

“Stay,” he says, his tone more commanding this time, “Keep me company. Don’t be rude.”

Your face warms, the hair on the back of your neck stands up, and a lump begins to form in your throat. You hate feeling like this. Like you want to tell him to go fuck himself and leave the room. But your feet are glued to the floor and you stand, frozen in place.

Hugh smiles at his victory and your obvious discomfort. You just need a minute, then you’ll go. C’mon, leave the room. Aemond is waiting.

“You getting on with Will then?” he asks, and your stomach lurches.

“We’ve gone out,” you tell him.

“But you’re with Targaryen now?” Hugh clarifies and you nod.

If it's one thing men respect, it's another man having some sort of claim to you. The thought sours your stomach and causes tears to prickle in the back of your eyes. Your heart is beating against your ribs like a rabbit’s foot.

You don’t suppose men ever feel this way. Like prey.

“Well, if one-eye gets boring,” he drones, and you flinch at the cruel nickname, “You’re welcome to my bed anytime.”

Your lips curl in disgust.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just down the way a bit,” he says with a shrug, “Since you’re keen to give it up for King’s Landing residents.”

Your jaw drops at his insult, and suddenly adrenaline floods through you, your feet unstuck. The fear that was trickling through your veins moments ago is replaced with white-hot anger.

“Go fuck yourself,” you tell him, through gritted teeth.

Hugh leaps from the chaise as you go to leave, reaching out and grabbing your forearm, holding you in place.

“Just teasing, that’s all,” he insists, tightening his grip as you attempt to pull away.

“Get off me!” you yell, turning and slapping Hugh across the face.

“Hey!” a deep voice echoes through the room and the pressure disappears from your forearm. A few tears slip past your lower lids as you meet the eyes of Cregan Stark.

He walks forward into the room, his eyes locked on Hugh, who has backed up several paces.

“Everything's al-”

“Shut the fuck up man,” Cregan snaps at him, before turning to face you.

You release a shaky breath, wiping your hands over your cheeks, drying the tears that escaped.

“Are you alright?” Cregan asks, ducking to meet your height. He places one hand on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing circles on your flesh.

You nod, struggling to find the words to thank him.

“Yeah….I’m okay…just a little shaken up,” you tell him, trying to keep your voice steady. Hugh straightens up, dusting his dress pants and running a hand over his gelled hair.

“Let’s get you back to the party,” Cregan says softly, using his body to shield you from Hugh’s view.

You let Cregan lead you toward the door, stopping briefly to whisper, “Please don’t say anything; I don’t want to make this a thing.”

Cregan’s expression is pained but he gives you a curt nod as the door opens.

“You guys find any coolers in here?” Aegon asks, trying to squeeze by, “Waiters aren’t filling me up fast enough and the bar cut me off-”

Aegon’s sentence dies as he looks at you, his eyebrows concaving together in confusion. You watch as the gears whirl in his head as his eyes flicker between you and Hugh; your tear-stained cheeks, his tense posture, Cregan’s protective stance.

“Aegon don’t-”

Cregan’s words fall on deaf ears as Aegon pushes by you both and slams his hands into Hugh Florent’s chest.

“AEGON!” you call.

“The fuck you think you’re doing, huh?” Aegon growls, grabbing Hugh by his shirt, “That’s my brother’s girl you’re messing with.”

“Relax bro,” Hugh says, that sly smirk still plastered on his face, “We were just talking, she didn’t have to get all upset-”

“I’m sure Aemond will love to hear that,” Aegon says roughly, “Go be a sleazeball somewhere else- not at my family’s fucking club.” Aegon releases him with a shove, straightening up and looking at you.

“You alright?” he asks, and you nod, lips parted in shock. You’d hardly expected Aegon of all people to come to your defense.

He moves forward ushering you and Cregan back down the hallways towards the main ballroom.

“Let’s not mention this to Aemond right now,” Aegon says, on the opposite side of you, “I don’t think that-”

A whistle comes from behind you, as you’re heading out of the ballroom and onto the lit porch where most of the patrons have retired to watch the fireworks. You catch Aemond’s eye from across the sea of people, watching the corner of his mouth twitch into his familiar smirk. Your heart leaps into your throat, eyes wide. Aemond reads your upset expression instantly and begins moving forward toward you.

You turn as Hugh enters, his tongue held between his teeth. It seems he’s not eager to end this.

“You’re one to fucking talk, Egg,” Hugh says through a laugh.

“Hugh, I swear to-”

“I didn’t know she was spoken for,” Hugh continues, “Must be a real ego boost for your bro, to be hitting Tyrell’s sloppy seconds.”

Aegon surges forward, but Cregan blocks him with his chest. You raise your eyebrows, cheeks hot with humiliation. Will has overheard and makes his way over to you as well.

“Is this guy for real?” you ask, not believing what you’re hearing, “Aegon just leave it!”

Aegon gives an exasperated chuckle, holding both hands out in front of him. Will frowns, shaking his head at his friend. Several guests have started to watch the scene unfold.

“Not cool dude,” he says, eyebrows furrowed.

“Just standing up for you, bro,” Hugh insists.

“Well don’t,” Will says, before turning and giving you an apologetic look.

Aemond is weaving his way closer, still moving through the crowd as Aegon insists to Cregan he’s fine. Cregan reluctantly steps in front of you and Aegon, pushing open the glass doors leading outside. He holds them open for you both, standing on the deck letting in the warm night air and music that plays from the live band.

You think you’re in the clear as Aemond squeezes by Cregan into the room. His hands find yours and you press yourself closer to him. He releases one of your hands to cup your cheek, violet eye flickering over your face taking in every inch. He holds your cheek carefully, as though you may shatter in his palm.

“What happened?” he murmurs, gaze moving to rest on Hugh. You cover his hand with your own.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you assure him, feeling your anxiety calm in his presence.

“If she’s not putting out, maybe Helaena is,” Hugh calls to Aegon, “She’s been looking pretty hot lately-”

Everything happens very fast after that. Will tells Hugh off, pushing his shoulder lightly as Aegon lurches forward once more. This time, he’s quicker than Cregan and he sends Hugh Florent tumbling to the ground.

“Asshole!” you yell at Hugh, just as Aegon collides with him, “Oh shit, shit shit!”

“Aegon!” Aemond calls, pulling his brother from Hugh.

“Keep my family’s name out of your fucking mouth!” Aegon snarls as Aemond drags him backward through the door and onto the outdoor space.

The scuffle has been noticed at this point, with several people leaning over one another to see what all the ruckus is. Hugh laughs from behind you, wiping some blood that trickles from the corner of his mouth.

“Still fiery as ever, Egg,” Hugh teases, eyes alight with mischief, “Wondered where that went.”

It’s Aemond who turns to him now, his gaze cold as ice. He doesn’t say anything, just stares him down until Hugh swallows, and breaks away from his gaze. Hugh coughs, before heading back inside, finally retreating.

“I’m good, I’m good!” Aegon says to Cregan who is still attempting to corral him.

Helaena pushes through the crowd, a concerned expression on her face.

“What the fuck happened?” Helaena asks, but Aegon shakes his head.

“He’s a prick, he deserved to be called out that’s all.”

“Now? You think now was the best time to do that?” Helaena growls, raising a brow.

Aegon clicks his tongue, sharply inhaling through his nose. He could tell her what Hugh said, but he stays quiet instead.

“Great,” Hel says, exasperated, “Mom is going to skin us alive.”

She’s probably right. If you’ve learned anything about Alicent Hightower-Tarageyn, it’s that events like these are important to her. Image is everything. Aegon shrugs, but you can tell the thought of his mother being angry with him makes him anxious; his hands have begun to tremble.

“Mr. Targaryen,” a security guard says approaching, “My apologies sir but we’ve received several complaints and are going to have to escort you from the party-”

“What?” you ask incredulously, “He didn’t do anything.”

“Ma’am-”

“He was helping me, you can’t kick him out,” you tell them, “If anything Hugh should leave!”

“It’s all good, no no, I’ll go,” Aegon assures them, reaching into the ice bucket on top of the outdoor bar and grabbing a bottle of champagne, “Party’s getting lame anyway.”

He begins walking down the steps and onto the grass that extends off into the golf courses in the distance.

“Hel? You got a j with you? Wanna blow this place?” he calls, looking back with a lopsided grin.

Helaena smiles at her brother, rolling her eyes.

“Night’s going to hell anyway,” she says with a sigh, “Fuck it I guess.”

She hurries after Aegon, down the steps.

“C’mon Aem! Live a little!” Aegon calls, walking backward toward the golf course.

Aemond glances at you and you slip your hand into his, tugging him forward.

“Let’s go,” you tell him, grinning.

You turn suddenly, spotting Baela with Rhaena. Daemon stands behind her, observing the scene along with Rhaenyra who sits beside him. His hand rests on her shoulder as she strokes her protruding pregnant belly.

“Bae!” you call, motioning to her.

Her eyes are sad and she wets her lips looking back at her father.

“C’mon Baela!” Aegon calls, echoed by Helaena.

You can see Daemon’s brows knit together, see him mouthing to Baela trying to get her to stay. But Baela rushes forward with a smile on her face, holding her skirts as she runs down the steps and across the field. You hold your arms open as she barrels into you, embracing you in a spinning hug as you continue further away from the party.

“Jackpot!” Aegon says, finding a row of golf carts. He jumps in the driver's seat and Helaena sits beside him. Aegon reaches back to pat the backseat, “My lady,” he says motioning for Baela to sit.

She does with a laugh, just as Rhaena tumbles down the hill, with Sara in tow; their fingers laced together.

They grab the next one just as Aegon revs the engine, taking off down the green hills. You can hear Helaena cheering as you watch them bob and weave through the grassy hills. Rhaena and Sara take off moments later.

You and Aemond start the next one, driving it slower than the rest at a more leisurely pace. You lean your head back, looking up at the stairs, and letting the warm summer night air pass over you.

You can hear the laughter of your friends growing louder as the sounds of the gala begin to die in the distance.

You trail behind them for a while, before taking a detour down a more secluded part of the golf course. Aemond throws the golf cart in park, looking over at you. You reach in between your boobs, pulling out Baela’s phone and placing it on the dashboard with your own on top of it.

“What happened?” Aemond asks, his fingers stroking your arm.

“Nothing important,” you assure him, “Just Hugh being a douchebag. Aegon really helped me out, I’ll have to thank him.”

Aemond hums to acknowledge your comment.

“Aegon’s nothing if not loyal,” Aemond agrees, “Like a golden retriever.”

You snort at the comparison.

“It was really nice,” you tell him, “How do you get asked to leave your own club?”

“Our family is just one of many donors,” Aemond tells you, “It’s not like we truly own the place.”

You nod, turning in the seat to face him.

“Where have they gone?” you ask, listening closely for the sound of your friends.

They must have gone pretty far ahead, all you can hear is the crickets chirping and the gentle sounds of waves crashing against the rocks in the distance.

“Don’t know,” Aemond comments, “Here, let's sit here,” He motions to the rather spacious backward-facing rear seats, “Bet we can see the bay.”

You exit, sitting down on the rear seats. Sure enough, you can just make out Blackwater Bay in the distance. You lean into Aemond as he sits beside you.

You reach forward, placing your hand on his upper thigh beginning to stroke smooth circles. You mean it innocently enough to begin with; just wanting to be touching him in some capacity. But his breathing turns shallow, and you can soon feel his cock hardening, straining through his slacks.

You move your hand over his bulge, squeezing gently, before letting your hands fiddle with the zipper. Aemond remains very still beside you.

“Can I?” you ask, heart, pounding with anticipation as you glance up at him.

“Fuck, of course, you can,” he tells you as you continue to palm his bulge, “Anything you want.”

You ease the zipper down and dip your hands in to remove his half-hard cock from his slacks; running your hand up and down at a leisurely pace. Aemond hisses as you squeeze him; you can feel him pulsating in your palm. It sends warmth pooling in between your thighs and you wet your lips in anticipation.

“What do you want me to do?” you ask, innocently tilting your head to the side.

“Don’t tease me,” he says through gritted teeth.

You slide off the seat, positioning yourself in the space between his legs. He widens his stance, letting his knees fall open. Kneeling in front of him you give his cock a tug.

“I don’t really think you’re not in a position to make demands,” you tease, ignoring his command.

Aemond releases a throaty moan as you lean forward, wrapping your lips around the swollen head. You hum in appreciation, looking up at him through your lashes as you suckle at the tip.

“Fuck,” he whispers, as you widen your mouth letting your tongue taste the underside of his shaft, paying special attention to the vein that travels up his length.

You drag your tongue up slowly, removing your lips and letting your tongue slide over his slit gathering the precum that leaks from it.

You swallow what your tongue collected, pumping him a few more times with just your hand. He’s so big. The perfect girth where your fingers struggle to touch each other when your hand is wrapped around him.

Long, hard, and heavy; always demandingly pressed against you, eager to be buried inside you in whichever way you preferred. Such a pretty cock Aemond has it drives you fucking insane. You haven’t had the time yet to appreciate it the way you’d like to. But now is your opportunity.

“You’re so pretty,” you comment, eyes wide as you watch your hand engulf him.

Aemond lets out a breathy laugh.

“Stop it,” he begs, his voice breaking into a slight whine; it makes you smile.

You lean forward, engulfing him fully in your mouth- at least as much as you can before you’re forced to pump the rest with your hand. Aemond’s hand flies to the back of your head keeping your mouth securely on him. You begin to move, dragging your mouth up and down along his length, and swirling your tongue around him.

You hum at the feeling of his hand tightening on the back of your head as you continue.

“Gods,” he groans, “So fucking perfect.”

Your lips tug upwards in what you can manage of a smile with his cock stuffed to the hilt down your throat. You gag slightly as he rocks his hips, pressing further down your throat. Aemond’s head tilts back, his chest rising and falling with his uneven, shaky breath.

You hollow your cheeks creating more suction as you try to take him deeper in your throat. Your heart is pounding and you try to even your breathing through your nose as you focus on not gagging on his thick length.

“Fucking hell,” he whines, “Oh gods--- fuck that mouth.” His hips lurch forward and you moan around him, drool dribbling out the corner of your mouth and onto your chin.

Aemond’s hand grips the back of your head, holding on for dear life as your hand joins your mouth in its efforts. Lewd, wet noises fill the summer air and you pull off him with a gasp.

“Seven hells,” he whimpers, as you lean forward, mouthing at his balls.

You eagerly press your tongue against them, rolling them against your mouth as you continue to jerk him off with your hand. Aemond’s a mess, head falling back, eye squeezing shut in pleasure. You suckle at the soft skin between his balls, alternating your attention between the pair of them.

“You like that baby?” you murmur, kissing up his shaft, “Like when I play with your balls?”

“Fuck yes,” he whimpers, “Oh fuck, feels so good-” his sentence ends in a desperate whimper as you take him fully in your mouth once more.

You bring your hand to cup his balls, gently massaging them as you suck him off. You love the feeling of having Aemond at your mercy; pride sears through your veins like fire at the messy state of him. The hand that isn’t on your head clutches the back of the seat, digging into the soft tan leather.

You release him with a pop, tapping the head of his cock on your outstretched tongue. Aemond watches you, eye wide, as you kiss the swollen head of his cock, before smiling up at him.

“Are you gonna cum?” you ask, as innocently as you can, eyes wide, “Want you to cum in my mouth.”

“Holy fucking--,” Aemond whines, as you suckle at the tip before dragging your lips down the side of his shaft, “Fuck yes, yes I’m gonna cum-” You lick a path up his shaft, engulfing him in your mouth once more.

You know he’s close, you can feel him pulsating in your mouth, but you want to drag this out as long as you can. You know from experience that Aemond isn’t usually the submissive type, and having him like this is a real treat.

“Fuck, gods you’re such a good girl,” Aemond praises as you move your head faster, “Shit..I fucking love this…like you so much..” Your cheeks warm at his praise, and pleasant butterflies flutter in your belly.

You release him one final time, pumping him with your hand. You’re a drooling mess, hand and face covered in saliva as you grin up at him.

“Let me taste your cum,” you tell him, “Please, give it to me, I want it so bad.”

“Fucking, yeah fuck I’ll give it to you,” Aemond whines, “So good, so fucking good, oh fuuuck.” His words die with a whimper as his dick twitches in your mouth and his warm, salty release hits the back of your throat.

You moan, taking it all, making sure to keep some in your mouth as you pull off of him. Aemond’s hand finds your chin, angling it upwards.

“Show me,” he asks, and you present your tongue to him before swallowing, “Such a fucking good girl.”

He drags you upwards onto his lap, kissing you harshly tasting his release on your tongue. He moans into your mouth and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“My good girl,” he murmurs between kisses, “Gods you’re perfect. My girl is so perfect.”

You’re preening at his praise, moaning happily against him as he continues to kiss you, moving to press his lips against your neck.

His fingers move beneath your dress, just as the sound of tires can be heard in the distance, along with yelling. Aemond growls, biting down against your shoulder causing you to cry out at the mixture of pleasure and pain. You lift your hips as Aemond moves his semi-hard cock back into his pants, zipping them.

“This isn’t finished,” he promises, cupping his hand around the back of your neck and kissing you once more, “Don’t think I’m letting you get away with that.”

Anticipation tingles down your spine and you giggle against his mouth.

“What’re you going to do?”

“Oh just you fucking wait,” he murmurs, hands grabbing the meat of your ass. You can feel his smile against your mouth as he kisses you.

“Yo! Lovebirds! Yoo-hoo!” Aegon calls, bringing the golf cart to a screeching stop beside you.

Helaena lurches forward as it stops, giggling maniacally. You can smell the weed from here, and laugh, pulling yourself from Aemond’s lap.

Aegon dramatically frowns, leaning against the steering wheel, as Sara and Rhaena pull up beside them. His eyes narrow.

“Are we interrupting something?” Aegon asks, tapping his finger against his chin.

“No,” you answer.

“Yes,” Aemond says, not missing a beat.

You slap him playfully on the chest.

“Too bad, we missed you losers,” Helaena sneers, but she gives you a happy smile.

“Dude, look at the moon!” Rhaena says, stepping out of the cart and laying on the grass. Sara joins her, laying beside her.

Baela gets out as well, and soon you’re all lying down facing the clear night sky. Sara points out different constellations, which Aegon struggles to identify until Sara is practically holding his hand, pointing to each star.

Suddenly some sprinklers begin to go off in the distance and Baela chuckles, mentioning you’ll have to leave soon to avoid getting soaked. Aemond’s arm is draped underneath your head, and you curl into him, listening to the sound of his heart beating.

“Come back to mine?” Aemond asks, his voice a low murmur.

You hum, nuzzling against him.

“What about no sleepovers?” you tease and he pulls you closer.

“The rules are null and void,” he says firmly, pressing his lips against your forehead. Warmth floods through you and your chest swells with emotion.

As you listen to the sound of crickets echoing around you a sharp pain pierces your chest. The month of August has always felt melancholic to you.

A month of endings.

The music of the sprinklers and the crickets suddenly changes into the sound of summer coming to an inevitable end.

Of you and Aemond coming to an end.

You pull him closer, throwing your leg over his and tucking your head deeper into the crook of his neck. Breathing in his cologne, relishing the feeling of the kiss he places on the top of your head.

You don’t want to think about that now. August is here, but it’s not over yet.

This moment here in this field, wrapped up in his arms, is endless.

note: thank you so much for reading!! we've got 2 parts left besties!!

OLS Taglist 1: @talesofoldandnew, @aemondslefteyeball, @urmomsgirlfriend1, @castellomargot, @high-on-darren-criss, @diosademuerte, @padfooteyes, @tempo-rary-fix, @amirawritespoorly, @chainsawsangel, @toodlesxcuddles, @tssf-imagines, @malfoytargaryen, @nina2697, @glame, @joliettes, @yentroucnagol

@grungegrrrl, @melsunshine, @helaenaluvr

bold means tumblr would not let me tag!

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annabelle--cane · 3 months ago

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something this episode made me realize is that I'm completely unable to picture basira in teachercore business casual. I can picture her in a police uniform, in ritual hunting street clothes, in apocalypse survival chic, and for some reason I can easily conjure up an image of her in dressed-to-the-nines black tie dress, but I try to picture her dressed like a deputy headmistress and my brain simply does not compute. my god this IS an alternate timeline.

#tmagp #tmagp spoilers #marina marvels at life

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whatisflorencewearing · 1 month ago

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September 29, 2024 - Valentino Spring 2025 Fashion Show

Flo made her grand return to the @maisonvalentino front row after an almost ten-year gap.

This time to celebrate the official debut show of her friend Alessandro Michele for the Roman maison, who's been its creative director since March.

She's wearing a very Florence-y seventies-inspired Valentino Resort 2025 rose gold sequin-embellished caftan gown that features floral embroidery, contrasting sage green tassel trims and a detachable blush pink silk waist tie.

Black moiré slingback pumps with silver and gold leather 3D bow-appliqué from the same collection completed the boho chic look.

Photography: @gettyimages (photo 1: @boykogram & photo 2: @vittoriozuninocelotto) Styling: @aldenejohnson MUA: @sarahreygate Hair: @odilegilbert_official

#florence welch #florence and the machine #paris fashion week #fashion week #front row #maison valentino #valentino #valentino garavani #alessandro michele #what is florence wearing

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victoria-secret-r3xies · 2 months ago

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How to become chic series

Day one

Have a big oversized bag. I got mine got $2 at a garage sale (walking to a garage sale or a thift store or just a random ass store burns hella c@/$) now. Now Get a fuck ton of old keychains ribbons and jewelry. Now just make it cute-- even paint the bag if you want to. Bonus points if it's a black leather bag. Now you can use this as a everyday bag or just a school bag because backpacks are not very chic. Also, if it's a school bag-- just tie your ID on their that's what I did. Just have fun with it it'll look cute. (While you do this you can f@$t or something so your b0dy will look chic too)

#tw ana bløg #tw ed ana #3d but not sheeren #3d f4st #3d not sheeran #@n@ diary #@na motivation #@na rules #@na vent #@nor3xia #howtobechic

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saintlucretia · 5 months ago

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A Lethiferous Date With an Art Deco Man

Pairings: James Patrick March x Female!Witch!Reader

Warnings: Violence. Death. Alcohol. Smoking. Blood. Murder. James Patrick March.

Summary: Y/N is a young witch at Miss Robichaux's Academy. Cordelia has sent her to The Cortez to find out what happened to Queenie and what a coincidence, James March is the one she should talk with.

A/N: Hope you enjoy <3

I was sitting in the bar, smoking a cigarette when I noticed the man I was looking for all day. Finally, James March. This son of a bitch. I watched him from my seat, as he approached the bar counter and started talking with a bartender. I couldn’t hear them, because of the distance, but he probably was ordering a drink. I took a minute to take a closer look at him. Perfectly pressed black striped suit with red tie. Gentleman from a black-and-white movie.

I put out the cigarette and stood up, straightening my black mini-dress. It took me only a few seconds to take my purse, but when I turned back to the bar counter he was gone. Damn him.

As I was walking toward the elevator, cursing myself for my sluggishness, I heard someone calling me.

“Miss, wait a minute!”

I turned back. It was a bartender lady.

“You forgot your sunglasses, dear,” she said, handing them to me.

“Thank you very much.” I smiled, getting ready to leave.

“Sorry, do I know you?” she asked, watching me intently. “God, I saw you on CNN! You are one of the witches, right?”

“Yes, I am,” answered I, a bit surprised that she recognized me.

“Gosh, such an amazing meeting!” She hugged me excitedly. “You are part of that coven, where they wear chic black and do spells, yeah?”

“Yeah.” I chuckled and then an idea formed in my mind. “Have you, by any chance, seen another witch checking in here? A few weeks ago? Her name is Queenie.”

A smile quickly disappeared from her face. The woman frowned, looking uneasy for a moment.

"Queenie... no, I don't think I remember that name," she answered with another forced smile, looking away.

"Are you sure?" I pressed on. "She has short, curly hair and..."

"I don't know dear, I’m sorry." She interrupted me.

Her response was too quick and too defensive for my liking.

"Really? Are you sure you don't remember meeting a woman like that? Not even seen her somewhere?" I pressed on, my eyes studying her face intensely.

The woman shifted uncomfortably, wringing her hands together. Her eyes darted nervously around the lobby, avoiding my gaze. She was clearly hiding something.

"Well..." she started slowly. "Now that I think about it... I do remember her staying here a few weeks ago."

“And?”

She cleared her throat anxiously, still avoiding looking directly at me. "Well... she didn't stay here long. She checked out very quickly, and didn't like our rooms or something."

I studied her face, trying to determine if she was lying or not. She was a terrible actress. Her eyes were averted, and she was nervously twisting her fingers together.

Before I had a chance to say something she added. “I’m sorry, but that’s all I know, dear, have a good stay.” She quickly walked away.

What the hell is going on in this place?

I sighed in annoyance and headed to my room. Walking through the halls I heard muffled screams, after all, Cortez is known as a perfect place for any sort of crime. A brilliant choice for a holiday stay, Queenie. Bravo.

After spending almost the whole day exploring this building and trying to figure out what really happened, this situation started getting on my nerves. Why are there always psychopaths in charge of grand places?

Even though I had a sneaking suspicion that Queenie could probably be two weeks dead already, a glimpse of hope was still living in my heart. She was a strong witch after all and I hadn’t sensed her spirit here. Having finally become convinced that without magic I couldn’t know anything, I locked the door to my room and began to look for candles in my things.

I placed them in a circle and lighted them in an order. At the academy, Madison and I performed the ritual of summoning the dead a couple of times. It was my first time doing it alone. I stood at the center of the circle mumbling special spells.

“The ghost of James Patrick March, show yourself.” Nothing really happened. It was oddly quiet and the silence was unsettling. “The ghost of James Patrick March, show yourself. Now.”

“Ah, what a demanding tone.” I heard his voice behind my back and even though I was waiting for him, I flinched anyway. “You know, darling, I may be an old-fashioned man, but I am not used to being invited on a date by women. I am a gentleman after all.”

I turned around and saw him standing in the far corner of the room, leaning casually against the wall. James March, in all of his dapper glory, was watching me with an amused glint in his eyes. "So you have a flair for the dark arts. How delightful." He smirked, looking me up and down.

“Quit your games. I have a business conversation with you.” I said, crossing my arms on my chest.

“Ah, skipping the pleasantries?” James chuckled, strolling towards me. He stopped in front of me, looking down with a playful smirk.

“Two weeks ago a witch from my Coven checked in here and now she is missing. Tell everything you know.”

"Before I answer, let's set a condition. I'll tell you what happened to your friend if you give me something in return," he said, tilting his head slightly.

“I will not bargain with you. You are not in charge here, Mr. March, so you better cooperate or I will exorcize you.”

He laughed, clearly seeing through my bluff.

With a sly smile, James March stepped closer, his eyes roaming over my face. "Oh, darling, you're just trying to scare me. You can't exorcize me, and we both know it. Many tried, but no one succeeded."

I narrowed my eyes, refusing to be intimidated by him. "Try me."

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with interest. "Tsk, tsk, what a feisty witch. Has anyone ever told you that it's charming?"

"Cut the flattery. Tell me what happened to Queenie."

He took another step closer, now only a few inches separating us. He was watching me intently, with a small smirk playing on his lips.

"Now, now, why don't you ask me nicely? Or are you too good for manners, darling?" He leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a whisper.

"I'm not in the mood for your bullshit."

He chuckled and then turned away, stepping to the window. "You know, I find the tendency of using expletives that young girls have adopted nowadays depressing."

I rolled my eyes at his old-fashioned values.

"I think you have lived for far too long, March," I retorted, walking closer to him. "It's a new world out there, and new rules apply."

He turned back to me and smirked.

"Ah, but old rules still can be fun, darling. And manners are a lost art, sadly," he said, his eyes drifting over my figure. "Some of us prefer a bit of elegance."

“I am happy that you keep ancient traditions,” I replied sarcastically.

He chuckled, his eyes now focused on my face. "You seem quite a character, love. Not afraid of me at all."

I smiled. "Is that supposed to be menacing? I'm not intimidated."

He arched an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Most people find me unnerving. Especially the ones who know about my reputation."

"No offense, but you seem like a typical psychopath, who killed dozens and enjoyed it. Nothing special."

“Ah, that’s where you are wrong, prettyhead dear. I’m not just a psycho, as you may say, I am a man that understands true art-”

“I’m not here to analyze your mental disorder, March.” I interrupted him.

He smirked and stepped closer, getting into my personal space. "And I thought we were on such great terms, love. Why so impatient?"

James leaned in, his breath warm on my cheek. "But you're right, let's get to business. Your friend is missing and you want me to tell you what I know, yes?"

“Right.”

“Well, hypothetically, I know something important, but why would I help you?”

I raised an eyebrow, challenging him. "Oh, please, don't pretend like you don't want to help. I see your pathetic attempts to please me."

He smirked, enjoying this little game. "But why shouldn't I enjoy this little situation? A pretty young woman, locked in a room with me, doing anything possible to get information from me. Sounds like a win-win."

“Ugh, you are unbearable.” I sighed and sat down on a couch.

He chuckled and sat beside me, his body dangerously close, his shoulder touching mine. "Unbearable, yet you're still here." He turned his head towards me, studying my face. “I can’t fight an urge to help a beautiful lady with her problem, but I will expect something in return.”

I raised an eyebrow, wary of his request. The last thing I wanted was to owe a ghost something. But it was my mission after all.

"And what exactly do you expect in return?" I asked, my tone guarded.

James smiled slyly, leaning closer to me. His eyes gleamed with something dangerous and exciting behind their polite gaze.

"Nothing major." He said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch was cold, like a gust of winter air against my skin. "Just your attention and conversation, I could use some company.”

I tried not to visibly shiver at his icy touch. His request was reasonable enough, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more beneath the surface.

"That's all? Just conversation?" I inquired, not quite convinced.

"It could be quite boring being a ghost. I don't mind a partner for… playing cards, for example, especially such an interesting one, as yourself," he said, fixing his tie and watching my figure up and down.

I let out a scoff, not entirely surprised by his response. James March, the ladies' man. Hard to admit, but still charming, even after death.

"And here I thought you were a gentleman, Mr. March," I replied, trying to keep a cool demeanor despite his flattery.

James chuckled, amused by my attempt to maintain composure. His gaze never left my face.

"I am, darling. A gentleman who can appreciate a cunning conversation." He said, looking me in the eyes. "And I enjoy the view as well."

His eyes slowly roamed over my body, shamelessly admiring the curves of my dress. His gaze was intense like a predator sizing up its prey.

I felt a shiver run down my spine. His blatant flirtations, coupled with the cold touch of his fingers against my skin, sent a strange mix of fascination and unease coursing through me.

"Fine, let’s say I will owe you." I retorted, forcing myself to sound unfazed. “Now tell me everything you know.”

James chuckled, a pleased smirk playing on his lips. "You're truly delightful when you're being demanding."

He leaned in, his breath cold against my cheek. "But I'm afraid I won't tell you anything here. Let's say, a date somewhere more, hmm, private?"

I arched an eyebrow, suspicious but intrigued. "Private?"

He chuckled, clearly enjoying this question. "Oh, nothing too sinister, I assure you. Just dinner. You see, I've grown quite fond of you since you graciously invited me into your room..."

I looked away in hesitation.

"So? Do we have an arrangement?" he asked, standing up from the couch.

I weighed my options. On one hand, I didn't trust him, and a private dinner seemed... risky, to put it mildly. But on the other hand, this was a way to ensure his full cooperation. He is probably the only one who knows about things that are happening in this place.

"Fine," I replied, standing up as well. "One dinner. But no tricks, no games. I want straight answers to my questions."

He smirked, clearly satisfied with my response. “Anything for such a charming lady. I expect you at 7 pm in room 64, dear.”

I nodded, not quite sure about the decision I just made. What have I gotten myself into?

"Seven o'clock, room 64," I repeated, looking up at him. "I'll be there."

“Good.” He said, and in a matter of seconds disappeared.

I was left alone in the room, staring at the spot where he had been just moments ago. Had I just made a deal with a ghost? Oh, Cordelia, I hope you weren't mistaken, you sent me here alone.

I had a few hours before my “dinner”, so I decided to do some research about my “date”. I sat down on the armchair and grabbed my laptop from the desk. I started digging through every online resource I could find. Newspapers, historical records, paranormal articles. Anything that could provide me with information about James March.

After a few hours, I got a clear picture of this man’s life. He was indeed a former hotel owner, a murderer, and apparently a rather charming psychopath.

I closed my laptop, feeling the weight of the newfound knowledge settling on my shoulders. The man I was about to have dinner with wasn’t just a ghost. He was a horrific serial killer. Cordelia has warned me that he could be dangerous and blah blah, but I haven’t really considered the scale of his crimes. Torture, rape, terrible methods of murder, and an incalculable number of victims.

I took a deep breath, realizing that I was about to have dinner with a man who had committed the most heinous crimes that I couldn't even imagine. In a way, I was glad that Cordelia had sent me here and that she believed I could handle it. She believed that I could stand up for myself. Even against... him.

I wondered what changed in me that I wasn't horrified by this realization. Instead, the thought of our upcoming meeting was thrilling, exciting even. It was as if a dark magnetic field was sucking me in. And I couldn't resist.

I checked my watch. It was a quarter to seven. I got up from the chair and took a closer look at myself in the mirror. I fixed my makeup and decided to change it into something more “formal dinner” appropriate. The black lace dress below the knees.

The dark fabric contrasted nicely with my pale skin, and the lace pattern gave the dress a romantic flair. I took a few steps around the room to check if I was comfortable in the new outfit.

Satisfied, I looked at my watch again. I was already one minute late. I took a deep breath and headed towards the door. My heart was pounding in my chest, and my mind was buzzing with anticipation and nervousness. I glanced one last time at the room as if looking for any excuse not to leave. But I knew I had to go through this.

I walked through the hallway as fast as my high heels allowed, heading towards room 64. As I approached the door, I took a deep breath and gently knocked. I tried to calm my racing heartbeat and mentally prepared myself.

A few seconds later, the door opened slowly. Standing in the doorway was James March, dressed in a white shirt and black trousers. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and a sly smile appeared on his lips.

“Darling, you look entrancing.”

"It's good to know I could meet your standards," I replied, unable to hold in a small smirk.

I stepped into the room, my eyes quickly scanning the surroundings. The room was dimly lit, with only a few candles providing light. A small table was set against one wall, adorned with a white tablecloth and silverware glimmering faintly in the pale light.

James closed the door behind us, his gaze fixed on me. I walked to my seat, but he was faster. "Allow me, darling." James moved around the chair and pulled it out, gesturing for me to sit down. His manners were impeccable. A true gentleman from a past era. It was hard to believe that it was the same man, who rips open girls' guts as a hobby.

As I took a seat, he moved back to his own chair. “Black suits you splendidly, dearest.”

I felt something like fear settling inside me for the first time in his presence.

“Would you like a drink, darling? I have a great collection of wine. Or perhaps the lady prefers something more exciting?”

"Wine, please. Red," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. I wasn't sure if alcohol would help or hinder this already tense situation, but I needed something to calm my nerves.

James got up from the chair and walked towards a small cabinet in the corner of the room. He opened it, revealing a collection of various bottles adorned with elegant labels.

He rummaged through the collection, eventually pulling out a bottle of dark red wine. It was an older vintage and had intricate designs.

James grabbed two glasses from the cabinet and returned to the table, pouring the wine into both of them. The dark liquid shimmered in the candlelight, like the blood of his victims.

He handed me one of the glasses, his fingers grazing mine for a moment. His touch was cold and unnerving, yet strangely thrilling.

I took the glass, feeling the weight of it in my hand. I took a sip, trying not to show how much I was shaking on the inside. The wine was smooth and rich, leaving a lingering warmth in my throat. Relax. He can’t harm you.

James settled back into his chair, taking a sip of his own wine. He watched me silently for a moment, his eyes flickering over my face.

"You seem a bit unsettled, darling," he said, his voice soft and seductive. "Is something troubling you?"

I ignored his question. "You promised to cooperate. What happened to Queenie here?"

"Ah, back to the subject of our friend," he replied, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

He took a moment to swirl his wine in the glass, then looked at me again. "Let’s say, she was a necessary link, unluckily for her. Wrong place, wrong time... I suppose it's not too difficult to guess what happened to dear Queenie."

“You couldn’t kill her. She has a voodoo power and-”

James didn't even bother to listen to the end. Instead, he chuckled again, a cold, humorless sound.

"Indeed, I did kill her," he said, leaning back in his chair. “It was a shame if you will allow me, I have always been interested in bearers of the gift of the dark arts.”

“It’s impossible… No one can harm her without harming themselves too, she is a voodoo…”

James chuckled again, clearly amused by my bewilderment. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand.

"Oh, darling, you're a bit slow on the uptake, aren't you?" he said, his tone mocking. “I am not alive, a ghost, if you recall.” His smirk widened.

The realization felt like a blow. I sat there silently, feeling like a fool. Of course. He was a ghost, a creature of the Hotel, our powers can’t harm him. I took another sip of my wine, silently berating myself for my oversight.

“So she is dead?” I asked calmly.

James nodded a smug smile on his lips. "Oh yes, darling," he said, an almost gleeful tone in his voice.

“And her ghost? Why can’t I feel the presence of her spirit?”

“Souls need peace at first, she is probably trying to cope with what happened, but you will see her soon. In a few days perhaps… It’s just a matter of time before you cross paths with dear Queenie’s wandering soul.”

Suddenly anger fogged my mind.

“And why the fuck haven’t you told me this right when I asked you?”

“Ah, so the kitten is showing her claws, is she?" James raised an eyebrow at my sudden display of anger. He seemed almost amused by my reaction. “As for the reason… Well, it would be silly of me to miss the opportunity to date such a beautiful lady.” He smiled.

I stood up from my seat and walked toward the door. God, and I have spent all this time in this dump to find out that she is dead.

"Oh, come now," he said, his voice dripping with mock hurt. "You can't just rush off like that. It's impolite to ditch your host so soon."

He moved closer to me, closing the distance between us. "And besides..."

He reached out a hand, gently touching my shoulder, a sly smile on his lips. "The night is still young, darling."

As his hand touched my shoulder, a shiver ran down my spine. But I pushed the feeling away, determined not to give in to his charms.

"The night may be young, but my patience is not," I said, my voice cold and firm. I stepped toward the exit, but he grabbed my hand, stopping me. “Ms. Y/S, it would please me more if you could stay and join me… For a dessert.”

I tried to pull my hand away from his grip, but his hold on me was strong. His words were spoken like an invitation, but I could hear the underlying hint of demand in them.

"Dessert?" I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "And what kind of dessert would that be? Perhaps, the one that requires my dead body on a table?” I said sarcastically.

James chuckled softly at my jest. "Oh, darling," he said, his voice dripping with fake shock. “I assure you, it's nothing so sinister as that. "He released my hand. "Although, the idea of you on a table... Now that is an enticing thought."

“You disgust me.” I rolled my eyes and reached for the door handle.

He blocked my way with his figure. “Please, darling, don’t leave. I will not do you any harm, you can have my word.” James slowly took both of my hands in his. “See, if I wanted you dead, I would have mixed something into your drink, don’t you think?” He brought my left hand to his lips and gently kissed my knuckles.

Despite my disgust, a shiver ran down my spine as James took my hands in his. His touch was smooth, almost seductive. I tried to push the feeling away, but his words rang true. If he had wanted to harm me, he could have done so many times already. As he kissed my knuckles, I felt a sudden tug of hesitation within me. I wanted to pull away, to maintain my anger toward him, but his touch was disarming. He is so handsome. I am just drunk.

“I am a man after all. Can’t a man desire a woman’s attention?” He brought one of my hands to his chest, resting it against his heart. "Can you feel it?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.

My head was almost spinning, and I felt numb. James' voice was like a sweet poison, seeping into my veins and dulling my senses. I could feel my resistance weakening, my anger fading. I tried to shake off the feeling, but his touch was intoxicating.

I couldn’t feel the steady beat of his heart, because, well, he was dead, but there was something strangely soothing in this gesture. I couldn't deny it... He did have an effect on me.

“I…”

James smirked at my half-formed response, his grip tightening around my hand. "Yes, darling?" he prompted, his voice low and seductive.

He stepped closer, closing the remaining distance between us. "What were you about to say?"

“I can’t stay.” My voice was embarrassingly shaky.

James chuckled softly, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "Can't," he echoed, the word lingering between us.

He ran a finger gently down my cheek, his touch sending another shiver down my spine. "But do you want to stay?" he whispered, his eyes searching mine. “You see… I don’t think I could let you go, dearest.”

Our faces were mere inches apart, the space between us filled with tension. I could feel his breath against my skin, his body pressed against mine.

"I..."

My voice trailed off. Part of me wanted to stay, to let myself fall into this seductive dance. But another part, a stronger part, was screaming for me to leave, to gather my thoughts and regain control over my emotions. He fucking killed hundreds of people. He fucking killed Queenie.

As my mind fought between desire and reason, James seemed to sense my inner conflict. He smirked, and his hand gently stroked my cheek.

"Such a struggle, darling," he said softly, his voice dripping with mockery. "Trying to decide between your desires and your morals?"

“Mr. March, it’s-”

“Shh…” He put his finger to my lips.

James gently shushed me, his finger on my lips silencing my words. His eyes flicked to my mouth, lingering briefly on my lips before returning to my eyes.

"Call me James, darling," he said, his voice low and intimate.

I tried to gather my thoughts for a response, but his gaze, fixed on my mouth, made it difficult to concentrate. "James..." I finally managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. “If my supreme finds out about it… I should go.” I broke free from his grip and quickly ran out the door. Strange, but he didn't follow me.

I continued walking, turning around a couple of times. I could still feel the lingering effects of James' touch on my skin, his words echoing in my mind.

I needed to report back to Cordelia, to tell her about what had happened here and needed to quickly get out of this damn place. I quickened my pace, my footsteps echoing through the empty hotel halls. The further I got from room 64, the easier it became to think clearly again.

As I turned the corner, I saw my own room door. Relief washed over me, and I walked toward it.

“Crazy night, don't you think?” I heard a female voice behind me. Turning around, I saw a young woman leaning against the wall. Black dress, smudged makeup, ripped tights, and a cigarette between her fingers.

“Who the hell are you?” I asked her, as she slowly walked to me. The woman took a drag from her cigarette, her eyes narrowing as she sized me up.

She chuckled and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “You indeed are quite the beauty.” The woman gave me a once-over, her gaze lingering on my features. Her eyes gleamed in the dim light as she spoke again. "Now I understand what all the fuss is about," she said, taking another casual drag from her cigarette.

I sighed tiredly. “Miss, I have no idea what you are talking about, now excuse me, but I have to sleep.” As I turned to leave, I felt a sharp pain in my side, just below my ribs. I winced, reaching a hand back to feel the spot where the pain had surged. To my shock, my fingers came back stained red with blood.

"What the-" I started, turning back to the woman in disbelief.

“Nothing personal.” She said stabbing me right into my chest. I tried to use my powers on her, but nothing happened. The pain was searing. I was helpless. Fear ran through me, and I stumbled backward, trying to distance myself from her. She took another drag from her cigarette, a satisfied smirk on her face.

Suddenly, everything began to spin. The hallway grew fuzzy around me, and I felt my legs give out. The pain in my chest and side was intense, and I felt myself begin to lose consciousness. I hit the floor with a thud, my head spinning. Darkness threatened to take me.

I saw the figure of a woman standing near me, watching me bleeding out. The world around me had become a hazy blur, but I could make out a second silhouette near her. I heard a distant voice. Male voice.

“Ah, great work, Sally! I knew that I could rely on you. Now I think you deserve an evening with John.”

“This is the last time I do your dirty work, March.” I heard the woman's answer.

“Don’t be dramatic, after all, you have just made me the happiest man on earth.”

The last thing I heard was a soft chuckle. Then everything faded to black.

#i want him #he is so girly pop #ahs fandom #james patrick march x reader #just girly posts #james march x reader #jpm x reader #jpm #james march #american horror story #ahs hotel #ahs coven

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coldshrugs · 28 days ago

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glamtober #17 - summer

obsessed with how the black and white make the green in the shirt pop. this outfit feels so chic for something covered in cactuars.

items used:

head: endless summer glasses (undyed) body: isle vacationer's tie-front shirt (jet black | pure white) hands: isle vacationer's wrist torques (N/A | now white) legs: salon server's bottoms (pure white | shale brown) feet: summer's flame sandals (jet black | jet black)

#ffxivglamtober2024 #azia gposes #io laithe #as much as i love a swimsuit... this is my fave vanilla summer look!#i am running out of fun caption energy... but i'm committed to them tbh #also. when you have exited gpose and the game and it's hours later. and then you see the frame clipping through an ear #walking into the thavnairian sea

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loganslowdown4 · 6 months ago

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AAAAHHHHH

Let’s go Logan Skirt Predictions 2.0!

Galaxy prints! Pleats! Practical pockets!

Dark blue knits w/ collared black shirt & tie! It’s librarian chic!

Sure, it can still be a pencil skirt if he wants but LOOK AT THIS SKIRT MADE OF TIES 👀👀

IMAGINE IF THEY COULD MAKE ONE WITH ALL BLACK AND BLUE TIES omg

Here’s the original, can’t wait to see what he comes up with!!!

#honestly whatever it is I’m gonna love it #this is a do over #a lot of people weren’t crazy about the original look #which is sad because is was SO Logan like so perfectly Logan #it was slick practical formal in his colours #I guess people found it too lame? but to me is was perfect. perfect librarian look #anyway skirt predictions let’s gooooo #thomas sanders #sanders sides #Logan sanders #sides in skirts #Logan sanders skirt #ts theories #ts predictions

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lichqueenlibrarian · 3 months ago

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I am desperate to know why the Vulcan High Council decided that the most practical outfit for a Starship captain was 80s pirate romance novel chic.

Spock’s uniform is a maroon silk tunic with a gold tie belt, tight black suede like pants, and knee high black boots.

WHY IS HE DRESSED LIKE A PIRATE.

#star trek tos #spock #star trek novels #pirate spock #killing time #della van hise

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storiesofamoment · 1 month ago

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𝔻𝕚𝕝𝕦𝕔 | Sway

*↷◌ Info:

||Character: Diluc ||Origin: Genshin Impact ||Word Count: 3,560 ||Musical Inspiration: Sway by Michael Bubblé ||Synopsis: [Y/N] is a well-known singer in Mondstadt, and regularly performs at Diluc's tavern. The two are said to be good friends, but wouldn't they have a more intimate relationship when the doors are closed?

⁎↣♡↢⁎

Tonight, at Angel's Share, Mondstadt's iconic tavern, an unusual event was going to take place inside. On the ground floor, a small stage had been set up, with a few instruments resting on it. Then, at the front, in the center, a solitary microphone. This small set-up intrigued the new customers, wondering about the reason for this different decor than usual. But the regulars of the small tavern knew what was going to happen. Every other Friday night, a singer with a honeyed voice came to do her show, occasionally filling the tavern with customers who were fond of her singing.

For Diluc, bartender and owner of this warm place, the arrival of this singer allowed him to come and boost his takings if the week had not been flourishing enough for him. Of course, that was not the only reason why he particularly appreciated these evenings. But being true to himself, Diluc would never admit the effect this female presence had on him, at least, not in public.

[Y/N] POV:

The tavern was slowly starting to fill up, creating a joyful hubbub within it. Diluc was at the counter, cleaning glasses or serving drinks. His serious look even in this party atmosphere made me smile. Rare are the moments when I was able to see him smile, but I cherish them like nothing in the world. My gaze continued its path from his face to this flaming red hair, giving him a wild and elegant look at the same time. Then my eyes went down the back of his neck to reach his muscular and yet, full of finesse torso. I couldn't take my eyes off this captivating silhouette.

"Stop staring at him like that, you're going to drool [Y/N]." said one of my musicians laughing.

I turned around, letting out a slight sigh before answering him somewhat hurt.

"It's not my fault if he's handsome! How could you not want to admire this charming profile? "I said, a slight smile on my lips, casting one last glance at this marble face.

"Haha, no but look at those languid eyes. Doesn't our dear [Y/N] have a little crush on the distant and mysterious bartender?" added another musician.

I frowned and looked away from Diluc while crossing my arms.

"I don't see what makes you say that. Come on, enough chatter, we're going to go on stage soon!"

The little troupe exchanged a few knowing glances before laughing. A smirk appeared on my lips before I took the handle of the back door, making us enter directly next to the small stage. We had barely passed the doorstep when all the eyes of the tavern turned towards us, becoming the center of attention. It must also be said that we were rather chic. Each of the musicians wore a cream three-piece suit, all accompanied by a pastel pink bow tie. For my part, I had opted for a black satin dress with a boat neck. This dress delicately enveloped my body, softening the curves of my body. Finally, I wore pastel pink lace gloves, going up to the elbow, reminiscent of the musicians' bow tie. The whole thing was quite minimalist, while having elegance.

We smiled at the whole room, delighted to see that thereweree still so many people ready to come and listen to us; it warms the heart. While the musicians were settling in, I could hear the murmurs that would run through the tavern about us. Murmurs of excitement, of questioning, of apprehension. It was then that I placed myself in front of the microphone,an tested if the sound was working, and the tavern fell silent, impatient to know how the evening would go.

"Good evening everyone! I see that, tonight again, there are many of us and we are impatient for the evening to begin, aren't we? " I said into the microphone, smiling because of the excitement that was starting to build.

"YEAH! " shouted the entire tavern in a burst of joy and good humor.

"Haha, good good. I see that everyone is in good shape again tonight. Well, let's start without further delay with the first song which is dedicated to the person who knew how to make my heart beat with passion, who knew how to make my skin shiver with pleasure, and who with a simple touch inflamed my entire being with the great fire that is love. I chose the song Sway! "

Following this declamation, a wave of whistles ran through the audience intrigued to know who this lucky chosen one was. I took the opportunity to cast a furtive glance in Diluc's direction. The latter remained impassive in front of the counter, taking care of the customers; he didn't even deign to look at me. But I knew that my words hadn't left him so indifferent, although he showed the opposite. The tips of his ears as well as his cheekbones took on a slightly pink tint, a very discreet change, but one that didn't escape my eyes. Seeing this reaction in Diluc, I turned my attention back to the room, a satisfied smile stuck to my lips.

"Musicians!"

They exchanged a look, all smiling and immediately began to play the melody. I took a deep breath and calmed my breathing by closing my eyes for a few seconds, before starting to sing even more beautifully.

« . »

When marimba rhythms start play Dance with me, make me sway Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore Hold me close, sway me more

Like a flower bending in the breeze Bend with me, sway with ease When we dance, you have a way with me Stay with me, sway with me

Other dancers may be on the floor Dear, but my eyes will see only you Only you have that magic technique When we sway, I go weak

I can hear the sounds of violons Long before it begins Make me thrill as only you know how Sway me smooth, sway me now

Other dancers may be on the floor Dear, but my eyes will see only you Only you have that magic technique When we sway, I go weak

I can hear the sounds of violons Long before it begins Make me thrill as only you know how Sway me smooth, sway me now

When marimba rhythms start play Dance with me, make me sway Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore Hold me close, sway me more

Like a flower bending in the breeze Bend with me, sway with ease When we dance, you have a way with me Stay with me, sway with me

When marimba rhythms start play Dance with me, make me sway Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore Hold me close, sway me more

Like a flower bending in the breeze Bend with me, sway with ease When we dance, you have a way with me Stay with me, sway with me

« . »

At the end of my performance, I took the opportunity to wink at Diluc, hoping this time for a more pronounced reaction from the bartender. But unfortunately, it was not to be.

After only one song, the tavern was already boiling and asking for more. My companions and I couldn't stop smiling at the crowd's enthusiasm. I caught my breath before taking the microphone back in my hands.

"Do you want some more?"

A unanimous "Yes" emerged throughout the tavern, making us understand that the evening would not end there. It was then, after two or three sips of water, that the musicians started playing again, me accompanying them with my voice that resonated through all the walls of the small tavern.

Diluc's POV:

The first song had barely finished, and yet, the room was already asking for more. Out of the corner of my eye I had seen him wink at me, but I didn't react. At least, I didn't show it, because I knew very well that deep down, my heart was beating slightly faster against my ribcage simply because of that wink.

I continued to serve the customers who were numerous at the counter. Of course, Venti was there, but I fear that the 10 bottles of wine had gotten the better of his conscience. I sighed, discouraged, to see him slumped on a table in my tavern, still a bottle in his hand and an idiot's smile hanging on his lips. Sometimes I wonder if he is who he really claims to be; the archon Anemo. I shook my head from right to left in despair before resuming the task I was doing.

On the other side of the room, [Y/N] continued to sing more beautifully, without ever stopping. From time to time, I threw a few furtive glances in her direction while remaining as discreet as possible, not wanting to arouse any suspicions. And yet, the more I looked at her, the more difficult it was for me to detach my gaze from her silhouette. This sublime body was becoming intoxicating, and this face, an angel's face, which exudes tenderness and love. Her fine and delicate features, her eyes filled with a burning fire of passion, an her lips slightly pink from the lipstick made them even more delicious. And her voice, how could we not talk about it. The timbre of her voice could be both strong and soft, aggressive and tender, sensual and delicate. Her voice was comparable to nothing in this world, it was so unique and captivating. And that low, slow vibrato she could produce by reaching for a sound from deep within her; it gave me shivers of excitement. It's incredible the effect [Y/P] has on me.

I smiled tenderly as I watched her enjoy singing in front of this effervescent crowd. Lost in thought, I admired her peacefully before a certain voice that was a little too familiar pulled me out of my dreams.

"She's lovely, don't you think?" he said in a cheerful tone, his eyes fixed on [Y/N's] silhouette.

No need to raise my head to know who the voice belonged to. I simply decided to continue carrying out my various tasks without paying her too much attention.

"Don't you have anything else to do but come and drink in my tavern?"

"Hahaha, even visiting my brother is forbidden to me now? " he said with a glass of liqueur in his hand, his mischievous look never leaving his face.

I raised my head and glared at him. Not wanting to make the situation worse, I decided to just let him do it, after all, I had more important things to do at the moment.

"Well stay, if that suits you, but try to drink responsibly in my establishment. I don't want to find myself dealing with another drunk in my tavern."

He let out a small chuckle before nodding and walking away, his glass in his hand.

POV [Y/N] :

The evening was beginning to come to an end and the tavern had only a few customers left. Exhausted from this evening of celebration, I decided to go and sit down for a few moments at the counter to find my dear bartender. The musicians, for their part, had just gone home, just as exhausted from the evening. I sat down on one of the high chairs at the counter, and lovingly observed Diluc's serious face, focused on one task at a time. He raised his head in my direction, asking me what I would like to have. At that moment, my lips stretched into an affectionate smile, having eyes only for him.

"I'll get you a glass of whiskey, my dear."

As soon as I said my order, he got to work and finally served me my drink a few minutes later. I took a few sips of my liqueur before putting the glass back on the tavern's varnished counter. I looked up to have his face in my field of vision.

"So, what do you think of tonight's performance?" I asked, intrigued to know his impression tonight again.

"We can say once again that it was successful given the number of customers who gathered around you and the stage." he answered me, an indifferent look on his face. A sigh escaped my lips, somewhat disappointed by this lack of reaction. But hey, what did I expect, this is Diluc we're talking about. And yet, that's one of the reasons why my little heart fell for him.

"Still neutral from what I see. And what about my first song? Did it make your heart shiver with passion?" I questioned him again, this time a little mischievous grin at the corner of my mouth. It was at this moment that I could see the tips of his ears again, as well as his cheekbones very slightly taking on a pink tint. My smile widened, already knowing the answer to my question, but I still wanted to know what disinterested comment Diluc was going to give me.

"I don't see why a song would have such an effect on my heart condition [Y/N]. However, it's getting late, you should go home to rest. " his seriousness never left his face.

"Roooohhh la la, always so pragmatic I see. You could at least say that you enjoyed my singing instead of making derogatory remarks. " I sighed before taking another sip of my whiskey, finishing it at the same time.

"But, would the impassive bartender of the Angel's Share tavern be worrying about me by asking me to come home early?"

"Not necessarily. I'm more worried about working overtime."

"You know, it's not by remaining so cold that you're going to succeed in winning my heart." I answered dramatically, exaggerating the situation.

"Would you please stop your charade and go home? We're in public here, in the tavern." He said softly, casting furtive glances to the right and left to see if a customer was silently listening to the conversation.

"Haha, are you afraid that someone will misunderstand our relationship? Well, fine, I'm going home. I'll warm the bed while waiting for you, my darling~"

I whispered the last words in his ear before turning around to leave the tavern. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him blush, making me smile, satisfied. Only, I didn't suspect that a certain person had seen everything, and heard what's more.

"…"

Next morning

The few rays that passed through the bedroom curtain brushed my face, waking me up gently. Quietly, I opened my eyes, not wanting to be blinded by the morning light. I stretched out my arm next to me and felt the bed, but nothing. I only felt the remains of his body heat, as well as the few scents still present in the sheets. So I sat up on the bed before getting out.

As I headed towards the kitchen, a sweet smell of food filled my nostrils, making my mouth water. I quickened my pace in order to find myself in the kitchen as quickly as possible. When I arrived in the room, I was greeted by a Diluc at the stove, concentrating on every movement he made. A smile appeared on my lips and I walked towards him.

"Good morning Diluc. So, did you sleep well?" I told him with a little wink.

He raised his head and looked into mine, this time, I could clearly see the tenderness marrying the features of his face. As if, in a place hidden from view, even the most disinterested bartender could turn out to be tender and attentive to his better half. He smiled at me tenderly before putting what he was holding in his hands on the counter to get closer to me.

"Very well, and you my love?"

He slid his arms along my waist, pulling me closer to him. A stifled laugh came out of my mouth as I let him do it.

"Why didn't you wake me up when you came back? I didn't even get to kiss you goodnight."

"You were sleeping so peacefully. And then, you know that it is not advisable to wake up a sleeping angel, especially when the latter is called [Y/N]. But you can always give me a kiss to wish me a good day."

He placed a brief kiss on my forehead while tightening the embrace. This time, it was my turn to blush like a tomato. He has the gift of, with just a few words, making me capsize and lose my bearings. I buried my face in his chest so that he wouldn't see how much I could be mistaken for his flaming red hair. However, he must have surely noticed my shyness because, with my ear against his chest, I heard his ribcage resonate in a light laugh before he brought his lips close to my ears to whisper these few words to me

"I love you, [Y/N]."

To which I obviously answered in the affirmative, a childish smile on my face. Then, I raised my head and looked into his eyes. We both observed each other lovingly, neither wanting to break the embrace. My eyes went down slightly to rest on his thin, pink lips; so delicious that one wanted to bite into them. I placed my hands on each of his cheeks, and on tiptoe, placed my lips against his. He kissed me passionately as if it were still the first time. His arms closed more around my figure, leaving almost no space between our two bodies, while our lips danced in unison following a rapid rhythm. Hastily, this kiss became passionate and filled with love for the other, while keeping a form of tenderness. I took advantage of this intimacy to slide my hand along his back before reaching his buttocks. My hand caressed him before taking him firmly, sticking us closer. Faced with this initiative, Diluc gasped, visibly surprised by this action. I could even see a blushing Diluc, almost shy and embarrassed. But I must admit, seeing Diluc in this state for the first time made him so cute and sexy at the same time, and made me fall under his spell once again.

"Diluc, I was looking for you just to tell you that-"

Suddenly, we heard a male voice resonate in the room. We stopped dead before turning our faces towards the said voice. It was then that we saw a Kaeya, straight as an i, too shocked to say or do anything. A silence settled in the kitchen, a long silence heavy with meaning. No one said anything, but everyone understood the situation.

"I KNEW YOU WERE HAVING A BUSINESS WITH [Y/N]!"

Kaeya suddenly cried out, making Diluc and I jump. Then, another silence before I burst out laughing. Only, Diluc, himself, didn't find the situation as funny as I did. In the blink of an eye, he had resumed his serious and stern look while looking at his brother. For my part, I couldn't stop laughing, so perfect was the comedy of the situation. Obviously, even his own brother didn't know everything.

"You didn't even warn your brother? Hahaha, you really are heartless my dear Diluc."

I turned in Kaeya's direction, a perplexed look on my face. I wiped away a few tears of joy before continuing.

"We are much more than just a business, Kaeya."

As I said that, I showed him my left ring finger as well as Diluc's, now clearly showing our wedding rings. Kaeya's reaction was most entertaining. The latter expected anything but this ending, I think. Just seeing his six-foot-long face in shock, it was the last possibility. Diluc, on the other hand, didn't seem very happy that his brother learned the news. I smiled and kissed Diluc briefly before leaving the kitchen to give them a little moment to explain.

"Well, I think some explanations need to be done, in the meantime, I'm going to take a shower."

"You better explain to me why I didn't know Diluc."

As I quietly walked away from the kitchen, I stopped before intervening one last time.

"Ah, and no duel between brothers, huh, I'm counting on you my darling ~"

I finally left the room, a satisfied look on my face.

Not telling your brother about such a change, you have to do it anyway.

⁎↣♡↢⁎

#diluc ragnvindr #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #diluc x reader #romance #genshin diluc

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