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imaginedisish · 6 months ago

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Unchained Melody (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Get ready to cry again. Here is the *what if you and Logan went to a wedding together* request. Heavily inspired by "Unchained Melody." That is such a Logan song and you cannot tell me otherwise. ENJOY!

Summary: You and Logan decide to go to Rogue and Remy's wedding together, but you don't know what together means. Logan helps to clarify...

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT, thigh riding, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), softdom!Logan, praise kink, cocky!Logan (literally), multiple orgasms, aftercare, Logan will do anything for you, afab!reader/f!reader, reader wears a dress, reader has hair (length/color/texture not described), feelings, so fluffy and cheesy, cursing, Scott is a little shit, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,452 I wanna dance with Logan

Maybe this was a mistake. You look at yourself in the mirror, turning around and around. You scan your face, check your hair, and smooth out your dress. Everything is in its right place. But, maybe, just maybe, this is all a mistake.

You and Logan—somehow—came to the decision that you would go to Rogue and Remy’s wedding together. As in…

Together.

And yet, you weren’t entirely sure what together truly entailed. Was this going to be a date? Or were you two simply going as friends? Friends friends friends. That god-awful, misery-inducing word you’re all too familiar with. Its meaning and restrictions haunted you as you got ready, and they’re still plaguing you now. You are so incredibly sick of being just friends with Logan. You want more—want him, all of him. But you can’t tell him how you feel—you can never find the words or the courage.

So, you’re simply going to the wedding together, unlabeled out of fear of getting an answer you don’t want to hear.

You slip on your heels, straightening out your gown one last time before heading towards the door. You take a deep breath, nervous beyond belief. You twist the knob, pulling the door open.

And there he is on the other side, fist clenched like he was about to knock. Logan. He’s wearing a black suit, a bowtie tied perfectly at his neck. You watch as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Hi,” he husks, his eyes trailing up and down your body. He smiles softly as he meets your gaze. He shakes his head in awe. “You look beautiful.”

“Oh, please I—” But he cuts you off, his hand reaching out to rest in the crook of your neck. “Really, you look beautiful. You always do.” Your breath hitches as his hand slides down your arm, his fingers intertwining with yours.

You take a deep breath, suddenly overwhelmed by the contact and Logan’s words. “You look really great too,” you choke out, a slight tremble in your voice. “Perfect,” you say, and Logan tugs your hand, guiding you out the door and into the hallway.

Rogue had told you the wedding would be small—just her and Gambit’s closest friends and family on the grounds of the institute.

Logan leads you down the stairs and out the back door of the mansion. The first thing you see are flowers; an absolute abundance of flowers. There are lilies and irises, asters and chrysanthemums. Daises, tulips, every single flower one can imagine—adorning tables, white tents, and planted in pots and boxes. It’s beautiful—a rainbow of colors and fragrances. The lawn has been transformed into a secret garden.

Logan guides you down a cobblestone path toward a trellis covered in vines and wisteria. Surrounding the trellis on either side are rows of white, wooden chairs. You and Logan walk to the front row on Rogue’s side of the aisle and sit down next to Storm, Charles, and Jubilee. You wave as you sit down. “You look amazing!” Jubilee shouts, reaching over Charles and Logan to get a better look at your dress.

“You look beautiful too, Jubes,” you say, motioning in her direction. Logan sits back, slipping his hand from yours and draping his arm over your shoulder instead. Jubilee notices the movement, her eyes flickering between you and Logan, a small smile playing upon her lips. She winks at you and settles back into her seat.

Footsteps sweep through the grass as people find their chairs. You struggle to ignore the warmth of Logan’s arm around your shoulder and the way it makes you feel—the soft circles he’s drawing into your bare skin. It’s like he needs the proximity, needs the touch.

You can feel Logan lean in, his lips at the shell of your ear. “You are the most—”

“Wow,” a familiar voice interrupts Logan. You turn your head, and there’s Scott, with Jean just a few steps behind him. “Didn’t expect that.” He raises his brows and cocks his head to the side.

“You need something, bub?” Logan asks, annoyance and irritation heavy in his voice.

Scott swallows nervously as Jean chuckles behind him. He shakes his head and sits down next to you. “Nope, I just…” He trails off, looking towards the trellis.

Logan leans forward, his arm still around your shoulder. “You just what?”

Scott throws his hands up, feigning innocence. “Nothing, absolutely nothing.”

Logan leans back, squeezing your shoulder gently as he settles into the seat. You turn towards him, catching his gaze. You need to ask him what this is, even if it’s clear to him. It’s obviously something to everyone else. You part your lips, finding the courage to finally ask Logan what you two are. “Logan,” you whisper so only he can hear. “What is—"

But the music starts up, a whimsical rendition of “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” filling the air as Hank walks down the aisle, stopping underneath the trellis. Next is Remy, in a cream-colored suit. He grins from ear to ear as he trails down the aisle, nodding to Charles as he steps under the arch. And finally, at the end of the aisle is Rogue. Her dress is bright white, lacey, and tight. She walks down, her bouquet of lilies of the valley and baby’s breath in hand.

She meets Remy’s side, and the music stops. “Friends and family,” Hank starts, smiling widely at the crowd. “We have gathered here today for the marriage of two people who should have been married long ago.” The crowd chuckles as Hank goes on. “But it is always better late than never…”

He continues, talking about their story, their love. Hank—naturally—finds a few Shakespeare quotes to scatter throughout his speech. It’s incredibly cheesy, but it’s beautiful. And, as Remy and Rogue exchange vows, you can’t help but well up. Their admiration and passion for one another is so undeniably clear. They’re committed, a team, partners until the end.

“I will always love you, chere,” Remy says, slipping the ring onto Rogue’s finger.

A single tear slides down Rogue’s cheek. “And I will always love you, sugar,” Rogue says, placing the ring in her hand onto Remy’s finger next.

You look up at Logan, and you notice that he’s looking down at you. There’s something in his eyes, but you can’t quite place it. He tugs you closer, his thumb still stroking your shoulder.

Hank sniffles. “With the power vested in me by the State of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Hank says, his voice shaky, his eyes glossed over, holding back tears. “You may now kiss the bride!”

Remy wraps his arms around Rogue’s waist, and he dips her, his lips capturing hers. Everyone stands, clapping and cheering. You and Logan stand too, his arm falling from your shoulder, leaving you feeling cold despite the summer heat.

But as Rogue and Remy walk down the aisle, Logan’s arm wraps around your waist. Rogue’s smile widens when she spots you, her eyes flitting between you and Logan. She laughs knowingly. Finally, she mouths to you, and blows you a kiss. The couple finishes their walk down the aisle, and they head into a nearby tent.

Given that this is Rogue and Remy, the party starts right away. Music blares from the tent, and you can see the happy couple hitting the floor. You recognize the song immediately: “Take on Me” by Aha. Jean drags Scott across the grass to join them. Jubilee and some of the other kids trail behind. Charles, Storm, and Hank head over together.

You look at Logan and smile, grabbing him by the hand and tugging him towards the tent. You can’t remember the last time you saw everyone this happy. It’s rare that you get to let loose, to have a good time. It warms your heart to see all the students dancing, to see them having a normal childhood experience.

“Come on!” Jubilee calls. “Come dance!” She’s twirling around, dancing with Kurt and Morph, sparking her signature fireworks every now and then.

You squeeze Logan’s hand and pull him towards the dance floor. You’re shocked that he doesn’t drag his heels, that he doesn’t protest or tell you no—he lets you tug him onto the floor. You turn to face him, swaying to the synthy pop. Logan lifts his arm, twirling you around, laughing as you spin back to him. He grabs your other hand and bounces with you to the music.

“I didn’t know you liked dancing!” You shout over the song as Logan spins you again.

He smirks, chuckling softly. “I don’t!” He shouts back, pulling you in and out to the beat. “But I like dancing with you.” He draws you in closer, letting go of your hands as his arms wrap around your waist instead.

You can feel the heat rising to your chest, spreading up your neck. The song fades out, and a much slower one starts up. “Something” by The Beatles echoes across the lawn. Rogue and Remy take the center of the floor, and everyone steps off, watching from the side. Logan guides you off the floor and towards your table, his hand in yours again.

“They’re beautiful,” you murmur. You see the way Remy looks at Rogue, the way they move as one, fluid unit. “Don’t you want something like that?” You ask, your gaze finding Logan’s. He has that look in his eyes again—all soft, relaxed, happy.

Logan nods, squeezing your hand. “I think I’ve found it already.”

Your lips part as you rack your brain for the right thing to say, your breath catching in your throat. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted—the words you’ve been waiting to hear. “Logan I—”

But Jubilee is grabbing your hand as the song changes. “If you’re not gonna dance with my girl, then I’m stealing her!” Jubilee calls out to Logan, pulling you onto the floor as “Can’t Take My Eyes off You” by Frankie Valli rings out.

“Jubes,” you protest. “Logan and I were actually talking about something kind of important and—”

“One song?” She begs, frowning, putting on her best puppy dog eyes. You look over at Logan, and he’s still standing where you left him, smiling widely. Dance with her, he mouths, arching his brows expectantly.

“Fine,” you say, still looking at Logan.

Jubilee cheers, taking your hands in hers, spinning you around. You jump with her, screaming the words. Logan watches from his seat. He loves the way you move, the way you shake your hips, the way you throw your head back and laugh. He can see how much fun you’re having, how happy you are. He can’t keep his eyes off you, can’t help but be mesmerized. And he knows—just by watching—that he wants to be with you forever. Longer than that. You’ve changed him, made him different. And all for the better.

You look over at him, his arms crossed against his chest as his eyes follow your every move. He’s smiling widely, clearly getting a kick out of you.

“He loves you, you know,” Jubilee says, twirling you. “I mean, just look at how he’s looking at you!” Jubilee smirks, nodding towards Logan. Her eyes widen. “I think he’s coming over here!”

“Jubes…” Logan chides as he steps closer to the two of you. “Think I can cut in?”

“I don’t know Logan,” Jubilee says sarcastically, grinning ear to ear. “We’re having a great time.”

Logan puts a hand on your shoulder. “I’d like my girl back now.”

My girl. His girl.

Jubilee lifts her hands, stepping away from you as the song fades out. “Fine,” she says, pretending to be heartbroken. “Guess I’ll just have to give her up.” Logan steps between the two of you, and you lean to the side to peer at Jubilee as she walks away. She catches your glance, thrusting two thumbs up, mouthing a You got this! as she wanders to her seat.

“Unchained Melody” by the Righteous Brothers starts up, and Logan wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you into his chest. The sun is setting in the distance, a honeyed glow washing across the lawn, painting the tent and the dance floor in golden light. Logan sways you from side to side, and you let your head fall to his shoulder.

His lips find the shell of your ear. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers so that only you can hear.

“Lo, before, when we were watching Remy and Rogue…” you pause, lifting your head to look up at him.

The corners of his mouth turn up. “I meant what I said,” Logan rasps. “I want you.” He presses his forehead to yours. “Just you.”

“I want you too,” you say, your voice soft and breathy. Logan holds you tighter, his lips just inches away from yours. You can feel his breath fan across your face.

“Wanted you the whole time,” Logan husks, rocking you gently as the song plays out. “You’re all I ever think about. I can’t get through a day without seeing you, without talking to you.” He pauses as the music grows louder, the strings and piano echoing across the dance floor.

Woah, my love, my darling I've hungered, hungered for your touch A long, lonely time And time goes by so slowly And time can do so much Are you still mine?

“You feel like home,” he says, his eyes glossing over. “I’ve been alive a long time, and for once in my life, I finally understand what that word means. It’s you. This is what love is supposed to feel like.” He pauses again, taking a deep breath, his jaw working. “I love you, so goddamn much.”

“I love you too,” you confess. “More than anything.”

And then his lips are on yours, and suddenly everything is nothing. The people around you are gone. Your problems have long melted away. Every ounce of pain and every second of suffering you’ve ever felt—that he has ever experienced—are forgotten. It’s all warmth and comfort, languid and slow, but passionate. He’s taking his time, tasting you, savoring you. It’s perfect. Beyond perfect.

His lips part from yours, and he looks down at you, taking you in, committing the moment to memory. “Pretty girl,” Logan mumbles, tugging you off the floor as the song fades out and a pop song starts up. “What if we slipped away for a few minutes?”

“O-okay,” you stutter as Logan guides you past your table and out of the tent. The bass of the music echoes across the lawn as you and Logan wander hand in hand toward the mansion.

He pushes the back door open, leading the two of you inside, and immediately pins you against the wall. “This okay, sweetheart?” Logan asks, holding your hands above your head, his fingers wrapping tightly around your wrists.

“Yes,” you breathe, your chest heaving against his. He closes the gap between you completely, his lips pressing to yours. It’s hurried now, hungry and frantic. His knee nudges between your legs, spreading you open. You can feel the fire burning in your core—the growing ache.

You squirm underneath him, your arms fidgeting against his hold, longing to reach out and touch him. “Wanna make you feel good first, princess,” Logan soothes, his grip on your wrists tightening. “Let me take care of you.” You can’t help but grind down on his thigh at his words.

“Lo,” you whine, searching for more friction. “Please, need you.” Logan swallows your moans with a kiss, his lips melting against yours. “I know, darlin’. I need you too,” he coos. “But I like watching you get off on my thigh,” he says cockily. “That feel good?” He pushes his thigh harder between your legs as you slide up and down.

“Y-yes,” you stammer, rolling your hips. “N-need more.”

“I know, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Logan whispers, leaving a trail of kisses down your jaw to your neck, softly biting that sweet spot underneath your ear. “Gonna make this pussy feel good.” He lets go of your wrists as he slides down your body, hiking your dress up above your hips as he kneels in front of you.

Logan yanks your panties down your legs, leaving your core bare in front of him. “Wanna taste you, pretty girl,” he husks, his breath fanning against your heat as he settles between your thighs.

“Please,” you beg, his face just centimeters from where you need him most. His palms splay across your inner thighs, squeezing and nudging you open. You look down at him, hunger, desire, and desperation darkening his half-lidded eyes. “Lo—”

And then he’s licking a long stripe through your folds, his tongue flicking your clit. You shudder underneath his touch as he does it again, his tongue pressing harder this time.

“Tastes so fucking good,” Logan mumbles against you. “Knew you’d taste perfect.” He pulls your clit between his lips and sucks, his teeth grazing the bud lightly. Your knees buckle at the sensation.

Logan pushes your legs further apart, one of his hands sliding up your thigh and toward your center. It’s teasing, achingly slow as his fingers finally reach your folds, toying with your slit and spreading your slick. He laps at your clit, and he’s desperate, ravenous, his mouth swallowing you hungrily.

He teases your entrance with two fingers—gentle compared to the way his teeth graze your clit, to the way he’s sucking every last drop you have to give him. You part your lips, ready to beg for him, but he’s thrusting his long fingers inside you—down to his knuckles—only to pull out and pump back in again.

You moan his name, your back arching off the wall, your thighs trembling as he fucks into you. Logan smiles against you. “That feel good, pretty girl?” He asks, his fingers pumping in and out of your entrance at a rhythmic pace.

“S-so good, Logan,” you say, your voice shaky and uneven. His tongue flits out, flicking your clit before his lips wrap around the bud. He sucks again, harder this time, longer, his face buried deep inside your cunt, like he needs this. Needs to feel every inch of you. To explore you. To remember you. Your heart thunders in your chest as he thrusts in and out, his fingers hitting that sweet spot deep inside every time.

Your walls flutter around him, squeezing him, taking him deeper. Logan laughs against you, the vibration rolling through your body in waves. “I know you’re getting closer, pretty girl,” Logan whispers, lapping at you between sentences. He looks up at you under those dark, hooded eyes as he plunges into you. “Let me get you there, wanna taste it when you come.”

You flutter around him again, his words threatening to spill the heat building at the bottom of your belly. “Lo,” you whimper as he brings a third finger to your entrance.

“That’s it, pretty girl, say my name,” he demands, shoving the third finger deep inside on his next pump.

“F-fuck,” you stutter, your legs shaking as you chant his name. Logan Logan Logan.

“So fucked out that I’m all you can think about, huh?” Logan teases, edging you closer along. You moan in affirmation as Logan laves at you, stuffing his fingers deep inside. “So fucking beautiful,” he praises. “Doing so good for me.”

“L-Lo,” you choke out, clenching down around him. “I’m so close.”

You can feel yourself coming undone, melting into nothingness as he rams into you, sucking your clit roughly. “I know, princess. Let go for me, wanna feel you come on my fingers.”

Your hips buck and your legs tremble as you fall apart. Your orgasm crashes into you, pleasure coursing through your veins. Logan works you through it, his face still buried between your legs. His tongue laps at you softly, his fingers pumping slowly until they stall inside you.

His gaze meets yours as he pulls his fingers out of your cunt and brings them to his mouth. His lips wrap around his fingers, and he sucks, savoring your release. He pulls his fingers out with a pop as he stands up.

Logan presses his forehead to yours. “You know, there’s something else I want,” Logan says, his voice deep and raspy. “I’m not done with you yet.” He cages you in, a hand on either side of your head.

“W-we need to be careful,” you stammer, nodding towards the door. “Someone could come in and—” Logan cuts you off. “Locked it the second we came inside, sweetheart,” Logan whispers, grabbing your dress and bunching it up around your waist. “No one’s coming in here. It’s just you and me, princess.” Logan pushes his hips into yours, and you can feel his erection straining against the fabric of his slacks. “Need you, darlin’.”

You wrap your arms around Logan’s back. “Need you too,” you pant. Logan’s lips find yours, crashing down needily, starvingly. He swallows your moans, one hand still collecting the fabric of your dress while his other tugs at his belt. He throws it to the floor with a clink and works at his button and zipper, pulling his pants and boxers down his legs. He hoists you up, one hand gripping your ass tightly, pushing your back against the wall for leverage.

“Fuck,” Logan curses, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance. Everything is rushed and frantic. He needs to be inside you, needs to feel you, needs to be as close to you as possible. His head slides through your folds, spreading your slick. “Wanted this for so long,” Logan huffs, his tip slipping into your slit. “My girl.”

With one thrust, he sinks himself deep inside you—down to the hilt. You’re suddenly so full, so whole. “Yours,” you answer as he pulls out and thrusts back in, somehow deeper this time. He’s everywhere and he’s everything. “All yours.”

Logan curses under his breath, panting your name as he sets a brutal pace. “Mine,” he growls between placing open-mouthed kisses to the crook of your neck. “All fucking mine.” His free hand slips between your bodies, finding your clit and drawing tight, rapid circles around the bud.

You dig your nails into his suit jacket as he splits you open. You want to feel him—to feel his skin, his chest pressed against yours. But this will have to do for now.

“Next time,” he mumbles, knowing exactly what you’re silently asking for. “You can have more of me next time, okay sweetheart?”

Next time. The words replay in your head as he fucks into you, taking everything you have to give. He knows you so well, already knows every curve and inch of your body, knows your dreams and desires. You fit, like two puzzle pieces, like magnets finally drawing together.

His thumb brushes your clit soothingly before pinching roughly, sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. Logan thrusts in and out, his hips snapping against yours, the sound of skin against skin echoing throughout the foyer.

“Feels so good, pretty girl,” Logan groans. “So fucking perfect, so tight.” Your walls flutter around him, and he grunts as you squeeze him. “Taking me so well.”

You’re already close, every thrust bringing you to the edge, every flick of your clit sending you spiraling. It’s all too much. And it’s all because of him.

“Lo,” you whine, his hips rocking into yours, his cock dragging along your walls. “I’m so…” You trail off, squeezing him again, taking him deeper.

He moans your name, sinking inside you and pulling back out. “I know, princess, me too,” he murmurs, his pace faltering, his hips sputtering. “Come on my cock, wanna feel it,” he pants. “Wanna feel you. Forever.”

And then the tension snaps, heat spilling out of you as Logan thrusts again. He’s throbbing inside you, close behind. Pleasure pulses through your body, wave after wave. You wrap your legs tighter around Logan’s waist, keeping him close as he spills inside you, filling you up. He chants your name, his forehead pressing to yours, looking deep into your eyes as he comes undone.

Your chests heave together, sharing the same breath. His cock is still inside you. Everything is calm. Quiet. “So perfect,” Logan breathes, his lips finding yours again. “So fucking perfect.” He finally slips out of you and sets you down on the ground, keeping your dress bunched up around your waist.

He leans over to the side, grabs a paper towel from a conveniently placed nearby roll, and sinks down to his knees. He’s cleaning you up, taking care of you, wiping away the mess spilling down your legs. He pulls your panties back up and kisses each of your thighs before standing and tossing the paper towel into the garbage by the door.

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, letting your dress go. He fixes each of your straps, straightening them out, and smooths out your dress. “Beautiful,” he praises, swallowing harshly, as if he’s holding himself back from reaching out and taking you again. Part of you wishes he would.

But he bends over and pulls his pants and boxers up, tucking in his shirt, zippering and buttoning his slacks, and securing his belt back in place. He’s still a little disheveled—sweat on his brow, his hair out of place. But he looks perfect. He looks just like him.

“You ready to go back out?” He asks, taking your hand in his. You nod and let him lead you outside and towards the tent.

You find your seats just as dinner is being served. “Where’d you two go?” Scott asks, arching a brow.

“Got a little too hot,” Logan says, smirking to himself. He finds your thigh under the table, squeezing gently, possessively. “Needed a break from the heat.”

You hum in affirmation, turning your head towards Logan. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “That’s one way to put it,” you whisper so that only he can hear.

He squeezes your thigh again, harder this time. His lips find the shell of your ear as the rest of the table starts up a conversation. “You’re coming back to my room tonight,” he husks. “Got it?” You can feel the heat rising to your chest as he separates from you.

You nod, his hand still on your thigh.

“Good, because I’m not finished with you yet.”

tags: @starfleetteddybear @ilysmdovie12 @prettyseaveins @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @silversprings-mp3 @wittyjasontodd @theasiaabattoir @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04 @derbygracie @honeyfewr @cosmiccandydreamer @Movhoney.

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borealing · 9 months ago

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buck watching eddie have a beautiful reunion with his kid and clearly staring So wistfully... the man is a professional piner. he yearns. he aches. he longs. he craves. he wants to hold someone so deeply in his heart that he feels like he is missing a limb when hes worried about them. the p in buck is for 🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

buck: youve got a kid?! 😳

eddie: yeah hes 7

buck: damn... 🫦 i love kids 😳👉👈 hes so adorable 🥹

eddie: ..... his moms not in the picture

#i dont even think hes yearning for buck at this point cause he doesnt know him super well #but he definitely had a brief fantasy of them raising a kid together and having to be on call on the night before their wedding #turning up to their wedding late and in their gear kissing on the altar covered in soot after a successful win #eddies kid giving them their rings as they all hug #he imagined their tenth twentieth fiftieth anniversaries and the kind of porch chair theyd get when they retire #then eddie turned around and the fantasy ended immediately and he remembered that this guy is basically just his colleague. lmao #ive given buck much more of a personality than the writers have can everyone enable me please

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tinythebunni · 3 months ago

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perv!stebro!Rafe Cameron <3

you had to know what you were doing. there was no way you were this fucking dense that you couldn’t see what you were doing to Rafe. walking around in those tiny fucking skirts and thinner than a piece of paper crop tops and baby tees. and you never wore a bra. Rafe was 90% sure you were sent up here by the devil herself to punish him for something. but it really was just the fact his dad happened to wanna fuck your mom more than just as a one night stand.

you always seemed to be tanning outside right when he was about to leave for the country club. as if you were trying to tempt him into staying and fucking you into his mattress and bruising your throat. you wore low cut tops almost everyday and it made him fantasize about leaving hickies there. how you’d whimper and lift your hips to try and get some kind of friction. how you’d try and make him touch you but he wanted to spend his time making you wait. making you feel as insufferable as you acted.

the first thing that made him lose his cool was when you came downstairs while Topper and Kelce were in the living room. now sure Rafe was still getting used to you being in the house with him since the wedding. but you had come downstairs in the tinies bikini top known to man. with a barely there skirt that didn’t even cover the swell of your ass. he was sure his eyes were bugging out of his head.

“nah. who the fuck do you think is letting you out the house like that?” you tried changing his mind, jus bc you really wanted to go to the pier and shop! but he wouldn’t budge.

“you look like a whore, go change. ‘not dealing with bullshit while i’m sober.” you cried all the way up to your bedroom and slammed your door. while Rafe only sat back down in his chair, manspreading and rubbing his jaw.

“jeez man you were kind of harsh” Kelce tried to defend you but he didn’t get far.

“nah y’don’t know the shit i gotta deal with here. fucking teasing me all the time.”

the second time he almost lost his cool was when you decided you were going to go to one of Barry’s parties, which Rafe was not at all gonna let fucking happen.

Barry always threw crazy ragers that basically turned into fucking or orgies all night. you’d never been to one of his parties but Rafe knew some bitch ass little boy probably invited you, trying to get into your panties.

once again you tried your hardest to get him to let you go but he didn’t let up. “not letting you go to some party just so you can get roofied and traumatized for the rest of your life. ‘r too sweet for all of that and i don’t feel like having to kill anyone today.”

you stomped your foot and pouted up at him. “this is so not fair! you’re not even my daddy!”

hearing that name come out of your mouth had Rafe groaning and looking up at the ceiling for some kind of strength to grasp onto, so he didn’t choke you or fuck you against this door. he gave you one last look and reached behind you to lock the door. he could hear your breath hitch as his head was right by yours, locking his eyes onto yours as you heard the click of the lock.

“stay in the house. ‘m not fucking with you bambi.” he chastised, walking back to the couch without even glancing your way. you looked at him a little longer, watch as he palmed himself through his jeans and slid back in the cushions. you let out a sad sound and slouched back upstairs. crying all your pretty heart out into your heart shaped pillow.

the last time, Rafe couldn’t take it anymore. you finally started to notice his attraction to you. and boy were you happy. you’d been wanting to fuck him for months now! fingering yourself and rubbing your clit raw to the sound of his voice and the feeling of his hands on you. you were basically in heaven!

Rafe didn’t know what changed but all of a sudden your teasing got more evident. you’d drop the remote and bend over to pick it up, giving him a view of the plump lips you had hidden behind cotton underwear. sometimes you’d leave the bathroom door open so he could see you shower behind the steamy glass.

in the present day you asked him to bake cupcakes with you. something innocent and sweet, what could it hurt? but when you asked him to try it, that’s when it all went downhill. Rafe dipped his finger in the batter and brought it to his lips, sucking the flavor off and deciding if it was done.

“taste perfect bunny, now you try it.” and you did. you looked up at him, taking two steps forward, and grabbed his right wrist. He looked at you with a confused glint in his eyes, as you dipped his finger in the batter and wrapped your lips around it. tenderly kitten licking the tip of it and suckling as you let it pop from between your lips.

“sweet and creamy, just perfect!” you smiled, like a cheshire cat. he only stared at you, pupils blown and cheeks flushed. you began to get a little bit nervous. you wanted to turn around and rgo to your room to sleep for all eternity!

as you frowned and turned to walk away, he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you to him, and as you skidded to a stop he wrapped his hands around your waist and flipped you over his shoulder. he walked away from the oven preheating oven, turning it off of course, and up to his room.

“Rafe what are you doing! come on put me down!” you yelled at him. he only slapped your ass, effectively shutting you up. you felt shame, arousal, and nervousness creep into your gut as you could only watch his backside walk up the stairs and away from the kitchen.

you saw him walk into a room and when he turned around to lock the door, you saw he was in his room. you heard the lock click and felt him start to walk towards the bed, finally putting you down.

“do you know how much self control i’ve wasted trying not to fuck you against every surface of the house, just for you to kiss me in the goddamn kitchen?” he asked pacing with an angry look on his face. you shook your head with your lips parted slightly and eyes glossy. you felt like a bunny in front of an angry wolf. you couldn’t tell if it was sexy, scary, or both.

“i’ve tried so fucking long to convince myself that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t know how much of a fucking nuisance you were. how everytime you walked out the house in those tiny outfits, i’d go up to my room and jerk off to the thought of ripping them off of you.”

you were sure you looked stupid as fuck right now, only glancing up at him between your lashes and biting your lip. “say something bunny. speak up.”

“m sorry.” you whispered, choked up a little. he stopped pacing suddenly and turned to you. kneeling in front of you he brushed the single tear that fell from your eye off your cheek.

“oh baby, i’m not really mad at you. i’m sexually frustrated from the teasing you’ve been doing but i could never be mad at you sweet girl.”

he kissed both your cheeks and held your face in his hands. “lighten up baby. can’t give you what we both want if your sad.” he whispered, making you look up at him with only need in your eyes.

“what we both want?” you asked, albeit dumbly. “don’t play. i know you want me to fuck you. i can hear your moaning through the fucking walls bunny.” he began to mock your moans and whimpers as your whole face turned red and your chest flared with embarrassment. you finally stood up on your tip toes and kissed him. letting your lips collide in a feverish dance.

he kissed you at first, tenderly, tentative even. as if he was scared to break you. but the slight noises you’d let out as he applied pressure slightly made his thoughts go into a frenzy. he couldn’t keep up with his mind. his hands going from your waist, your ass, your neck, your back, and back to your waist.

he walked you backwards until you fell onto the bed where he crawled over you. “is this okay baby?” he asked as he kissed down your tummy between each word. you nodded with slight anxiety from what comes next.

as he slid your skirt up you yelled out a “wait!” he immediately pulled back as if he was burned.

“did i do something?” he asked, slight worry in his eyes.

“no no, not at all!” you replied, relief flooding through his veins. “i just, i haven’t shaved.”

he stared at you like you were dumb. “i don’t give a fuck. baby i’m a grown man, ion care about a little bit of hair.”

he kissed your clit through your panties after dat sentence and slowly pulled the down to your ankles. he tugged them off and wrapped them around your wrist to keep you still.

pulling a leg over each shoulder he licked one long stripe up your slit, kitten licking to wear he saw fit. this was what he was waiting for. drowning between your thighs. he could feel your arousal gushing out of you and mixing with the saliva on his tongue.

he laps at your cunt as if it’s his last meal, savoring everything he can. he’s mumbling gibberish, pussy drunk almost. babbling about how he needs this, how he wants to become full off of your juices and nothing else. he pushes his tongue inside of you and flicks at your g spot with his tongue. it’s a stretch but it’s worth the reaction it pulls out of you.

your back arches and your hands pull at the sheets next to you, looking for something to ground you. Rafe pulls a hand to your hip to hold you down, his dominant one going towards his pants. you can barely register the clink of his belt.

He pulls himself out of his confines and rubs his tip with b his thumb, spreading his precum around as lube. he tugs his cock in tandem with his long and steady licks of your cunt. he cums right before when you do. the groaning and moaning of his orgasm rushing through him vibrates on your cunt, making you hit your peak with a flame alight inside your whole body.

your orgasm rips through you and it’s blinding almost. you come to after he kisses your neck and lets his half hard cock sit on your tummy as he rubs your head trying to get you to come back to him.

“come on sweet girl, don’t tell me you’re sleep.” you drearily respond, barely there. he smiles starting a bath for you, grabbing a snack, and getting ready to take care of his best girl. only you.

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harleyrrojar · 2 years ago

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Why Use Chair Covers for Wedding Reception

CV Linens offers exquisite chair covers for wedding receptions that add a touch of elegance to your special day. Choose from a variety of styles and colors to match your wedding theme and create a stunning atmosphere for your guests.

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oceantornadoo · 18 days ago

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ch4 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: some mild dubcon groping but reader is into it she just hates him. (or does she????)

masterlist | next

Your mother doesn’t come to your wedding, understandably so. Her lack of presence makes the day seem less real. However, one Johnny MacTavish decides to become the Scottish mother hen you’ve been missing.

“Everyone decent in ‘ere?” A chorus of yeses ring out. Johnny opens the door to the bridal dressing room with a smile, looking suave in his tuxedo. “Shite, was hopin’ to sneak a look.” He winks at your nearest cousin and she flutters her eyes. Even as a married man, Johnny likes to flirt and fluster women. It helps hide his marriage to Simon and provides you with much entertainment.

“How’s the blushin’ bride?”

He walks over to your vanity, taking in your bridal makeup and hairdo. Johnny whistles low, reaching out to ruffle your hair, which you stop by smacking him. “The bride is hungover and not in the mood.” He shrugs, then takes a sip of your champagne on the vanity desk. “Y’r fault fer doin’ a hen do the night before. Nice job slippin’ the hag, though.” It’s your codename for Aunt Riley. She’s always been suspicious of him and Simon, making little comments here and there that have put her on his shitlist over the years.

“Thanks. I can say, the London nightlife didn’t disappoint. I might throw up at the altar though.” He snorts and takes a seat in the empty chair next to you. “Price was pissed last night. Called Simon while we were mid-” You cover his mouth with your hand. “Don’t finish that sentence. As far as I’m concerned, you guys haven’t even kissed.” Johnny licks your hand, making you squeal. “Can’t believe he called Simon like I’m a little kid and not a grown woman.”

Johnny doesn’t answer, instead popping a chocolate-covered strawberry offered by a passing waitress into his mouth. She’s been the one supplying you with Gatorade until you switched the champagne half an hour ago. Can’t believe the bridal suite has a waitress. John Price is too rich for his own good.

“The Shepherd family’s gettin’ bolder. Can’t blame ‘im fer not wantin’ ya to die before the weddin’. Would be bad publicity.” You scoff. It might be true, but John has never seemed too concerned about your health. Except that night in the park, when- never mind.

“Ya nervous?” Johnny asks. You shake your head. “Trying not to think about it. I’m more focused on not tripping in front of multiple mafia families. I’d never live it down.” He smiles, then squeezes your knee over your white dressing gown. The look he gives you is too knowing and you hate it. Instead of holding his gaze, you turn to the mirror and will any stray tears away. “You probably need to go soon. I think they’re putting me in my dress in a few minutes.” He nods, dark eyes full of understanding.

“Ya look real bonnie, doe. Gonna make a beautiful bride.” You nod, swallowing down the thickness in your throat. “Thanks, Johnny. You look handsome in your pink bowtie.” It’s the same color as the bridesmaid dresses, a horrid shade your aunt insisted on. He winks, then rises out of his chair. Johnny squeezes your shoulder, then kisses the crown of your hair like Tommy used to do. “Simon’ll walk ya down the aisle. I’ll see ya on the other side.” And just like that, he’s gone.

“You know you’ve turned my life upside down in only a week, right?”

“I know.”

“And you know a small part of me will always blame you for it?”

“I know.” Simon sighs.

It’s five minutes before the ceremony. You’re all dolled up in your poofy dress with perfect makeup and a bouquet in hand. A phantom weight is heavy on your left finger, waiting for the ring you tried on only a few days ago.

“Ya know I’ll always be sorry yer father is mine.” Simon murmurs. You nod stiffly, swallowing down any emotion as you look at the closed church doors in front of you. The ones that will open in a few minutes, leading your path down the aisle and to your new husband.

“I didn’t have to come back. I could have hung up on you all those years ago.”

“I know.”

“I think a small part of me wishes I had.” You whisper, like a confession. He takes your free hand and wraps it in his own. “But I think a bigger part would do it all over again.” Simon squeezes your interlaced fingers.

“Best thing tha’ ever happened t’ me, ya know that?” Your smile is weak, eyes watery as you catch his gaze. “What about Johnny?” He smiles under the mask. “Tha’s a different category, love.” You laugh, small and hollow.

This feels like goodbye. You know it’s not, you’ll only be 200 miles away, but you’re both aware of the new boundaries around this marriage. London will be your home now, and any visit to Manchester will have to be approved, and probably accompanied, by John. That’s all it’ll be - a visit. A few days at most, doing the rounds and seeing friends and family. You’ll never live there again, never run your bookshop, never chat with regulars, never- you stop that line of thinking before you ruin your makeup.

“If he hurts ya, you call me.” You nod, but that’s not enough for Simon. A gloved hand tips your chin in his direction, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’ll call me. An’ Johnny if I don’t answer.” You nod again, firmly, which finally satisfies Simon.

“C’mere.” You hug your big brother with all your might. He’s careful, turning your face to the side so you don’t ruin your makeup. His hands tighten around your shoulders while yours can barely wrap around his torso. He’s always wearing suits but this one feels different, more structured and finely woven.

“Simon, are you wearing designer?” He stiffens, pushing you off him as you start laughing. “‘M alway wearin’ designer, comes with the job.” You shake your head vehemently. “No, you’re always wearing Fred Perry. This fabric is fancy, it’s like Dolce and Gabbana.” Your brother decidedly does not answer.

“Simon! Are you wearing Dolce to my wedding? Are you trying to upstage the bride?!” Only you, his all-knowing sister, would be able to tell he’s blushing under his mask. In an uncharacteristic move, he scratches the nape of his neck, looking off to the side like he’s suddenly interested in church architecture. “Johnny picked it out.” You slap his arm and he moves to ruffle your hair, before remembering it’s in a fancy wedding do. “You’re an absolute git, this is completely unfair. I demand you go to the nearest mall and pick something off the rack.” That comment finally dismisses the dark cloud that’s been hanging over you, sending you two into a laughing fit.

“I wish Tommy was here. He’dve torched that suit.” His eyes crinkle in a sad smile. “I know, love. I know.” Simon kisses your forehead and you lean into his shoulder, wishing the moment would never end.

But all good things must.

A frazzled assistant, one of your Aunt Riley’s minions, practically sprints over to you. “Doors,” he wheezes, “doors opening in thirty seconds.” And just like that, he’s gone. Probably a cake emergency or something of the sort.

“Do I look okay?” You take one last glimpse in a nearby mirror. You’re wearing a traditional veil, something Simon turns up over your head to hide your face. Despite the hideous dress, the rest of your look turned out quite nice. The flowers are decent, your makeup looks great, and you were even allowed to pick out your own jewelry. A win is a win.

“Most beautiful bride th’ church’s ever seen.” Simon puts out his arm like a gentleman, letting you wrap your own around it. “I love you, Si.” He takes a second, and you swear he’s holding back tears. “Love ya too, kid.”

Most of the ceremony passes in a blur.

Lots of flowery words, preaching about commitments you’d rather not think about. Some scripture or Latin thrown in there, but you’re really not paying attention. You’re more concerned with the man in front of you.

Your veil is a little sheer, allowing you to see him in all his groom glory. His eyes are dark, fixated on yours, and you’d be an idiot not to notice how handsome he looks. His tuxedo is sharp, and he’s got a flower tucked into the pocket. A heliotrope, a purple that matches well with the pink bridesmaid dresses. A half memory comes to you, something about heliotropes and eternal devotion, but you tuck that away under your might be mad box.

Finally, it comes to the vows. You haven’t written any and neither has John, instead deciding to use the olden ones. It frightens you, to have this surly man swear you such promises.

“With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”

He takes off your veil and you swear his breath hitches. It’s just a split second, but the muscle of his throat freezes and you’re captivated by how manly he looks. All bitter thoughts of enemies can be paused for a moment, you reason.

“You may now kiss the bride.” And he does.

It is not a polite kiss. You don’t know why you thought it would be.

He’s hungry. He catches the small of your back in one hand and your waist in the other, dipping you back in a picture perfect moment. His lips devour yours, delivering small bites and licks before pulling back so suddenly you think you’ve imagined it. You blink and you’re standing, your hand wrapped in John’s, as you look out at the cheering crowd. Mr. and Mrs. John Price.

You try to avoid John during the reception, which takes place in the backyard of the local country club. It’s hard to do when you’re supposed to thank everyone as a couple. You greet mafia and community leaders and business owners and politicians, all with the same sweet smile and John’s hand on your back. Do they know this was arranged? It’s hard to tell from the venomous sincerity dripping from their foaming mouths, eyes scanning the four-carat rock on your hand like it’s a prize to be won.

At least you’ve been allowed to change into a lighter dress. The reception dress is shorter, falling respectably right above your knees with long sleeves and a low back. Not low enough to show off the temporary tramp stamp smudged on your back. You keep the veil in, a cute detail that the inner little girl in you adores. If only this was a wedding you wanted.

Thankfully, champagne is in constant supply. You must have drunk at least four flutes now. That, plus your lack of food due to your hangover, makes you sway. John, who has not spoken to you directly at all since maiming your lips at the altar, notices. He tugs you away from the crowd, finding a secluded bench tucked away behind a tree. It reminds you of the garden you met him in a few nights ago.

“Thank god. One more sweaty handshake and I would have keeled over.” You murmur, mostly to yourself. He grunts, taking a seat next to you on the bench and loosening his tie.

“Who said you could sit next to me?” Uh oh. Drunk you is talking.

“‘S gonna be like that? We’re barely five minutes in, sweetheart.” He drags a hand down his face in an exhausted and adorable manner. No. This is the enemy. You must remind the both of you of that fact.

“You’re the enemy.” You poke him sternly in the shoulder, which sort of ruins the effortless effect you were going for. “You finally gonna tell me wha’ I did t’ you? Or is this our next ten years?” You frown at his words, crossing your hands over your chest. He’s acting like you did something wrong, not him. Out of the corner of your eye, you see John avert his gaze as you inevitably (and accidentally) push up your tits. Interesting.

“You ruined my life.” He barks out a laugh. “‘Ve ruined a lot of people’s lives. Need ya t’ be more specific.” Instead of answering, you slide down awkwardly into the grass beneath you, leaning your head back on the bench. It’s nighttime now and the only thing in the sky is the North Star. John’s star.

“You told my father I was a weakness and,” you hiccup, “and you told him to send me away. And lookwherethatgotme…” You trail off, eyes fluttering. Your eyes feel a thousand times heavier than normal, and everything hits you at once. Your lack of sleep from your night out, the stress of the day, the emotional conversations - they all boil over like a pot on the stove. “Think I’m gonna sleep now…” John hums, still next to you, and you drift off to the sound.

When you wake up, your head is throbbing. Why are you sitting on grass? There’s a suit jacket covering your front, keeping you warm from the night’s chill. Your neck throbs from laying back on the stone bench. There’s a stink in the air, a nasty smell, and when you turn to your right, you see your new husband smoking. Jacketless.

“Nice nap?” You nod, embarrassment coursing through your veins like a drug. “How long was I out?” He flicks the ash of his cigar onto the grass. “Long ‘nough people thought we were consummatin’ the marriage.” Oh. That was…not something you needed to think about.

“You feelin’ sober? Remember anythin’ you said?” You shake your head. Unbeknownst to you, John is frowning. The last few hours are a blur, a black spot in your memory. There’s still alcohol in your body, but a headache is starting to form as well.

“Let’s get some food in ya. Can’t have my new wife droppin’ dead at the weddin’.” You let him help you up, slipping on his jacket to cover the grass stains on your dress. That’s the only reason you don’t take it off.

The rest of the night gets easier. Dinner saves you, but then Johnny’s putting drinks in your hands and your cousins are pulling you to the dance floor. You have an emotional dance with Simon, a not-so emotional one with John, and then you’re passed to a slew of people to make nice with.

It’s 2am when the party finally settles down. People have gone home, thankfully including your aunt, and you say your goodbyes. John takes you back to the Ritz, a silent, quick car ride. You’re thankful for the quiet but confused all the same. The air is charged, like you just had an argument and lost. Is he mad? Regretting this? You don’t know him enough to tell, and that irks you.

The elevator takes you to the penthouse this time. Only the best for the king of London. John stands beside you, no hand on your back. It’s entirely businesslike: the walk to the room, shutting yourself in the bathroom, donning pajamas and a dressing gown. You would shower, but you need to finish your routine at the vanity.

If this were a real wedding, maybe he would have carried you in his arms over the threshold. Maybe he wouldn’t have been able to keep his hands off you, ravishing you in the entryway. Maybe he’d whisper in your ear, “Mrs. Price”.

Instead of that fantasy, you’re tipsy and angry about the fact that you are now Mrs. Price. Maybe that’s why you say it.

“I’m not a virgin.” You’re at the vanity, taking out the mountains of jewelry that pour out of every crevice of your body. It’s the last thing to remove before the weight of your wedding is off your shoulders. The mirror is giant, big enough so you can see John stop unbuttoning his shirt when you say the words. “You’re not?” You shake your head. He frowns. “Might as well send ya back now, get my money, and-,” he stops. Maybe it’s because you’re staring hard at his reflection. You don’t even like him, but the champagne and sting of rejection cut deep.

“Was jokin’, sweetheart. Didn’t expect you t’ be a virgin. Too much pressure, honestly.” Oh. Oh. He’s always called you sweetheart, spit it out like poison designed to kill. This is the first time he’s said it kindly and your heart curls around the word like a sleepy cat. Which will absolutely not do.

“Will make it easier, I reckon. ‘S a tight fit.” He winks jokingly and you scoff at his insinuation. He’s being oddly jovial, a 180 from the car ride, and you need to ruin this truce before it becomes permanent.

“Sure, that’s probably what your exes have said. It was probably a ‘tight fit’ because they weren’t wet, John. Ever heard of foreplay? F-o-r-e-p-l-a-y, look it up. I expect-”, except you don’t get to tell him your expectations because he’s shut you up with a calloused hand around your throat. It’s not violent and you know he wouldn’t hurt you, but the shock factor hits its target.

“Yer used t’ yer brother an’ his men, crude jokes an’ the like. I get it. But I demand respect an’ you’ll respect your husband now. Got it?” He isn’t blocking your airway, just holding your throat with his hand like a collar around it. He stands behind you with his unbuttoned shirt, giving you a glimpse of his hairy torso, hard with muscle. “The same way you respect me?” You mutter. He straightens in the mirror, his hand loose. A thumb caresses your jawbone, one stroke then two, before he pulls it away completely like it never happened. “I’m tryin’ to. Let’s agree on that, yeah?” You nod stiffly, sobered and treading with cautious feet. Is this how he’ll be? Acting like a military captain, an all-consuming force?

“And, sweetheart.” He grabs your free hand, the one lying on the desk. His large paw engulfs your own, bringing it to the outline of his cock in his boxers. You can feel the weight of him and, against your will, you squeeze. He’s thick, no, girthy. The fabric is thin, allowing you to feel the ridges of his cock, the veins, and its shape. Your hand acts of its own accord, sliding down until your thumb brushes the mushroomed tip. His cock twitches in your hand and you jump in your seat, snatching your hand away like it’s on fire. His chuckle is low and bruising, a damning caress.

“Thought so.” And your new husband walks away.

When you toss your silk dressing gown into the hamper for housekeeping, neither of you comment on the wet spot that’s soaked through. That’s the closest you get to consummating your marriage tonight.

i dont care if this is in london, im using miles. deal with it

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chilumi-shipper · 10 months ago

Text

Not Meant for the World

Kamisato Ayato x Fem!Servant!Reader

Summary: You fell for him, he fell for you, it was the typical start of a relationship, only problem is… well, he's him and you're you. A Commissioner who holds power over the nation, and a servant that basically amounts to nothing in the whole scheme of things. It was a mutual decision to keep your relationship a secret, only to be kept within the dead of night in his bedroom, evaporating before the sun could even rise for another day. But then… Ayato seems so keen keeping it a secret forever, letting the stream of wedding proposals and love letters flood in, going through great lengths to make sure the information doesn't leak out, almost like he's ashamed of being with someone like you. You could only take so much of that.

Tags: Angst no Comfort, Hidden Relationship

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"You should probably go back to your quarters." As you were snuggled up to your lover's chest, enjoying his warmth under the covers of his bed, he spoke.

"But it's barely time." You whined, pressing your body closer to his and rubbing your face on his chest.

Back then, he would cave, he would chuckle and wrap his arms tighter around you, saying that you could stay for a little bit more and that he didn't really want you to leave anyway.

Now… he pulls away from your embrace, sighing as he looks you in the eye.

"It would be best to elliminate all the chances of us being caught, and I believe that some of the servants have been getting up early to start their shifts." He reasoned, his hold faltering as you feel his arms slip off you.

You felt a clenching pain in your chest as you slowly get up, looking around his room, you didn't want to leave, and yet when you looked at him, you felt like you were being pushed away.

"Okay… I guess I'll get going now…"

This is the part where he would usually kiss you and remind you that he loves you…

It never came…

You left his room without another word.

…

"Is it perhaps too much to visit a festival together?" You asked, not expecting a pleasurable answer from the Yashiro Commissioner sat on his office chair and drinking a cup of tea you prepared for him.

"I believe it is, being seen in public in a non-professional setting would be rather suspicious if it's just the two of us." Ayato responds firmly, oblivious to (or perhaps just ignoring) the frown that formed on your face.

"We've been out together multiple times…" You reasoned, though you sounded unsure, not wanting to sour his mood and lessen your chances of getting him to agree to your proposal. "We haven't been on a date in a while."

"The families offering up their daughters to me are very vigilant of my public movements, suspicions will arise if they were to see me with any lady for no particular reason." He did not even spare you a glance, answering swiftly as he always does.

Yet again, you fail to persuade him to be with you. You prepared to say more, but a knock came before your words.

A guest came to the estate, a father of one of the many noble ladies offering their hand in marriage.

Long story short, he's here to talk marriage business, as these fathers always do.

When the guest left for a moment, "My lord, I just need a few more minutes to talk to you." Many times, you have tried to intervene, not satisfied with how your conversation earlier abruptly ended.

"Y/N, there are matters more important than this. Wait a moment." He pays you no mind, but you have had enough. "You are being too obv-"

"Ayato, stop." You spoke firmly, freezing him in his place. "I'm still talking to you." You approached him, his back still turned to you.

Slowly, he turned around to face you, his eyes held an unfit expression for him, almost like nervousness. "Y/N, let's not do this now…"

"Do you still want to be with me?" You asked impulsively, stripping the formalities and simply talking to the man you knew as your lover. Your eyes fill with tears, looking at him being lost for words. You hoped his answer would be immediate, that he would exclaim that why would you even ask such a question.

As you stood there, "Lord Kamisato, come along, don't let the servant keep all of our time." The guest came back, standing beside Ayato, who had yet to say anything.

No words were spoken, but the Commissioner knew that right there, right in front of the unknowing guest, in your watery gaze, he had a choice to make.

"Why don't you get us some tea in the meantime?" The guest spoke up again referring to you, but you have no intention of moving until your lover finally speaks up.

With a gulp, Ayato stood his ground. "Yes, please prepare us some tea, Y/N. No more of your nonsense."

A single tear, that's what you allowed for him to see as you nodded silently. But as you prepared the tea, your vision was blurry from the neverending tears, your sobs couldn't be controlled as you struggle to catch your breath.

But you needed that, you needed that to remind yourself that you are merely a servant.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

The Yashiro Commissioner sat on his bed that night, looking at the door to his room. His heart was beating fast, hoping for it to open and show the figure of his lover, though the odds are against his desires.

He hoped that maybe you'd spare him a chance, that you'd walk into the room and tell him that you'll allow him to show you how you much he truly loves you.

The door remains close. And so does his heart begin to ache. Ayato didn't sleep that night, he merely lied down and looked up at the ceiling, trying to imagine your warmth embracing him, trying to make it seem like your side of the bed wasn't left cold.

…

"My Lord…" His eyes looked up from the document he's been staring it for the past hour when he heard your voice… calling him in such a cold manner. You said nothing more, placing a tray of tea and pastries on an empty spot on his desk.

"Ahh, thank you…" Ayato looked at your face, hoping to see your usual smile whenever you served him his afternoon tea, yet your face held nothing but a blank expression. You merely bowed at him, before leaving without another word.

Your name was at the tip of his tongue, and his entire being screamed at him to just say it. He wanted desperately to call for your attention, but, though he did not want to admit it… he was scared…

You stopped in your tracks, remembering something that you had to discuss with him. Ayato, ever so perceptive of your actions, perked up.

"You have a meeting with the head of the Tenryou Commission later at noon, something about an agreement with regards to your relation with his daughter." You did not bother to face him to give him the reminder, opting to walk away once you finished your sentence.

The Yashiro Commissioner's face fell as he watched you leave the room, his heart still heavy, and his mind cursing at him for not having the guts to talk to you properly.

…

The pain felt more real once he entered his room for the night.

The place has been wiped clean of your existence, the covers have been changed so not even your scent lingered, some of the clothes you kept in his closet are gone, the vase of flowers you like to decorate his nightstand with is gone…

The framed picture of the two of you that sat on his nightstand is gone…

It felt suffocating…

With a sigh, Ayato closed the door, not wanting to see such a sad space, he instead went back to his office.

As he sat on his chair, he opened one of the drawers of his desk…

A smiled couldn't help but form on his face, a bittersweet one, when he saw the picture of you that he kept there a long time ago.

He laid his head on his arms on the desk, your picture next to his face. He figures that it was the only way he can sleep without feeling the suffocating emptiness of his room weighing upon him.

…

Today is the day the festival you were so excited about starts, and it's already been arranged for quite a while that today is your day-off. "…Y/N was really hoping that I'd join her at the festival." Half of

Thoma's words were muffled, but he could make out your name and the festival.

The blond retainer was asking for a day-off as well, to go with you.

Something uncomfortable boiled in Ayato's core, you asked him to join you back then, and he said that he couldn't. Yet, all he wishes now was to accompany you, to be by your side and not have to think about keeping your relationship a secret.

"With Y/N…?" Ayato asked, his voice laced with disappointment that did not escape his retainer's ears.

"Is something the matter, my Lord?"

Truly did his entire being want to disapprove of Thoma's request, he wants to go to you and offer to go with you himself.

"No, I'm quite alright, Thoma…" The Yashiro Commissioner heaved a sigh. "I'll allow your request."

You spent your day at the festival with Thoma, and it was obvious that you enjoyed it given the large smile that was plastered when you got back to the estate.

Meanwhile, Ayato spent his day at his desk, looking at meaningless paperwork while dreaming of being hand-in-hand with you at the festival, imagining that you would eat your heart out with all the streetfood available, watch the firework show when nighttime falls, and dance slowly at the festival music at midnight when everyone else already left.

That night though, he approaches you, his heart pounding when he caught your attention. "May I… ask you to sleep next to me again?"

He was tired, he could only take a week of sleeping in his office because his room haunted him too much. Unfortunately for him, he doesn't know how to even start explaining himself, doesn't know how to win you back, to say that he does choose you over any form of nobility that he has.

You smiled at him… emptily.

"I'm your servant, my lord. If you wish for me to, I will."

So you did, you slept next to him, he hugged you tightly, snuggling you up to his chest, yet you refused to hug back, to nuzzle in his embrace like you used to. You merely did as you were requested.

Ayato tried to ignore the tightening of his heart just before sleep and exhausted took over him.

But he couldn't ignore the chill he felt when he woke up hugging nothing. It's just as it should be, the servant listened to her lord, and now she left to do her other tasks.

It was crazy to hope a relationship like yours could work out. Kamisato Ayato felt a few tears fall from his eyes, now, he wished for you to stay.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Yo, it's 3am and I'm gonna sleep now.

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ankur7979 · 4 days ago

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grannyandgrandpascreations · 2 months ago

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I'm In Heaven for your Wedding Memorial Keepsake Ivory Chair Runner Banner Sign

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brent-linen-hire · 8 months ago

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Wedding tablecloths hire

We, Brent Linen Hire stock a full range of white and coloured wedding linen, table cloths, napkins, slip covers to decor any kind of functions from wedding party, birthday party, christening party, to corporate events. We offer wedding tablecloths rental services at a competitive and cheap price. We have all sizes of round tablecloths and rectangular tablecloths. Please contact us for your…

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sturnioz · 9 months ago

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‘THE BEST MAN’ — CHRISTOPHER STURNIOLO

pairing. christopher sturniolo x fem!reader genre. fluff, smut

word count. 7.1k

❝this is a wedding! i'm trying to be classy today!❞

content warnings. plot with smut, explicit content, sex with a stranger(?), oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, bathroom sex, riding, dirty talk,

authors note. not sure if i wrote chris well :/ but first chris fic on the blog yay, i hope you enjoy

You remember the first day you met Jennie: her soft hair curled in waves down her back, the rosy red tint on the apples of her cheeks from the cold weather, and how her smile and eyes gleamed when she introduced her twelve-year-old self to you at the playground. She was dressed in a sage green sweatshirt and jeans, and even though it was a simple outfit choice, you couldn’t deny how gorgeous she looked in it.

You remember the first day you witnessed Jennie suffer through her first heartbreak; her hair thrown up messily with strands framing her face, her eyes were puffy and wet, and her chapped lips were curled into a frown. She had a sage green blanket wrapped around her form as she sat in her room, surrounded by endless amounts of tissues that were scattered from the door to her bed.

It’s crazy, you thought. Even at that moment, she still looked gorgeous.

You remember the first day Jennie had met ‘the one’: her hair tied back into a sleek ponytail, her eyes adorned with glittery makeup, and her lips full and glossy. She wore sage green jewellery that dangled from her ears and around her neck. Her cheeks were flushed a soft pink as she locked eyes with a man at the grocery store, and a shy grin formed on her lips as she kept her gaze on his, completely mesmerised by his appearance. Despite her nervousness, she still looked gorgeous.

Today will be another unforgettable day—her wedding day.

You’re captivated by her beauty: her hair is curled in waves down her back, just like the day you first met her, with strands framing her face. Her makeup is light and gentle, her eyes shining with excitement as she patiently waits for the makeup artist to apply the finishing touches. Her body is covered in the most beautiful sage green wedding dress you have ever seen.

“Are you going to cry?” Jennie’s voice teases you as she meets your eyes in the reflection of the mirror, and her bottom lip forms into a playful pout. “Because if you start crying, I’ll start crying.”

The makeup artist tuts, pointing her brush at you warningly. “No crying.”

You laugh and gently pat under your eyes, hoping not to feel any moisture. “I’m not going to cry. You look gorgeous, that’s all.”

“Thank you,” Jennie smiles softly in response to the compliment, expressing her appreciation. She also gives a quiet thanks to the makeup artist who had just finished touching up her face. Jennie leans forward to take a good look at herself in the mirror, pleased with the results. “My mother wasn’t too happy about me going for a coloured theme instead of the traditional white wedding, though.”

“It’s your wedding. You do whatever you want,” You reassure her, briefly glancing down at your silk, cream bridesmaid dress and smoothing your hands over the material. “Sage green has always been your colour, anyways. I would’ve been surprised if it wasn’t included in your wedding.”

Jennie beams in response, “Right! But on top of that, my dad wasn’t happy either. He wanted a traditional wedding in a church… He’s not exactly thrilled to be invited to his only child greenhouse wedding.”

“This wedding is for you and Justin, not your parents,” You say with a straight face, clearly not impressed with her parents' thoughts towards the special day. “If anyone needs to be happy and satisfied, it’s you two.”

“Well, I would be even happier if you brought a date—”

You interject, deadpanning, “Are you seriously bringing this up again?”

“It’s my wedding!” Jennie whines, turning around in her chair to face you with a pout. “How could you not bring a date? What happened to the guy you were speaking to on Tinder? I thought things were going well with him!”

You immediately scoff at the mention of him, shaking your head. “He was completely obsessed with talking about himself that I could barely get a word in, and he was constantly glued to his phone, looking at his ex-girlfriend’s social media posts. Hard pass.”

Jennie purses her lips in deep thought, absentmindedly playing with the end of her curls as she contemplates. You observe her, knowing that look all too well—the look of an idea brewing in her head or a plan already forming.

You prepare yourself to immediately disagree with whatever she’s about to suggest. However, before anything spills out, the door to the room slides open, revealing Jennie’s mother, who gasps at the sight of her daughter.

Taking it as your cue to give them some privacy, you announce quietly that you’re going to step outside for some fresh air. You briefly greet Jennie’s mother, offering a gentle rub on her arm as you pass by, and allow the door to slide shut behind you.

You take this as your cue to leave, wanting the two to be alone and experience a moment together. You mumble to Jennie that you’re going to step outside for some fresh air before giving a quick greeting to her mother, rubbing her arm gently as you slip past, allowing the door to slide shut behind you.

The exhale you breathe out is deep, and your heels click against the marble flooring of the building as you make your way outside and into the sun, the warm rays shining down, and you shield your eyes with your hand to block the bright beams. You gaze over at the greenhouse conservatory where guests are mingling outside or taking their seats inside.

A smile forms on your face as you spot familiar faces, waving to a few old classmates Jennie had invited, and you begin to walk towards them, intending to give them a warm welcome. But as you take a step forward, your right foot twists beneath you, your heel becoming lodged in a crack in the concrete below.

You smile when you see a few people you recognise, waving at a few old classmates that Jennie had invited and you go to walk towards them to give them all a proper welcome, until your right foot twists beneath you, your heel getting caught in the crack of the concrete below you.

A panicked ‘Holy shit!’ escapes from the side, and a hand reaches out, grabbing hold of your bicep to steady you and prevent any further damage. You wince at the slight twinge of pain in your ankle, but you’re relieved to find that nothing seems to be broken when you look down. You mutter curses under your breath for wearing heels that you’re not used to walking in.

You turn your head to thank your rescuer, expecting to see them chuckling at your clumsiness, but you’re taken aback when you see a boy with messy, brunette hair staring at you with wide, startled light blue eyes and his mouth agape.

His attractive appearance catches your attention, and since he’s an unfamiliar face, you’re intrigued to know who he is and what connection he might have to the wedding. But before you can utter a word, he breaks the silence between you both.

“You literally almost died.”

Your brow raises in amusement, “That’s a little dramatic.”

“No, I’m dead serious. It was a Final Destination moment waiting to happen. Ankle snapped in half, face smashed to the ground, all mangled, blood everything… I swear, I had the visions, dude.”

You blink, taken aback by his vivid imagination. “You have an interesting way with words.”

The corner of his lips curls into a mischievous grin. “And you have an interesting way of walking.”

“Touché,” You respond, pursing your lips as you glance down at your heels with a soft hum. “I blame them. They’re difficult to walk in.”

He chuckles, his eyes lingering on your heels for a moment, “I mean, I’d be nice and offer to swap but, uh, I don’t think your shoes go with my outfit.”

You playfully raise an eyebrow at him, taking the opportunity to thoroughly check him out. His white dress shirt is neatly tucked into his black trousers, accentuating his slim waist. His black blazer is left unbuttoned, and the matching coloured tie lays clean and ironed against his chest.

You can’t help but grin, “I don’t know… I think you’d look pretty good in a pair of heels.”

He bursts into genuine laughter, a faint blush colouring his cheeks as he runs his fingers through his hair. He then extends his hand towards you, introducing himself as Chris. You smile and take his hand in yours, introducing yourself in return, and the sound of him softly repeating your name sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

Chris goes on to explain that he’s one of Justin’s brothers and also one of the best men chosen, mentioning that he’s the youngest triplet. You share with him how you know Jennie and that you’re her only bridesmaid, filling him in on the little details.

He listens intently as you explain your long-standing friendship with Jennie, smiling warmly at you and even adding his own comments about when he first met her, and how well she and Justin are matched, to which you instantly agree.

The conversation between you both flows so smoothly that you’re almost shocked, unable to fully understand how you can feel so comfortable and compatible with someone you’ve just met—you more or less wish you had met someone like Chris on Tinder instead.

“I think the ceremony is about to start,” Chris announces, glancing at his phone to check the time and the messages flooding his screen. He pockets his phone and wets his lips, a grin spreading across his face. He extends his arm towards you, offering it to you. “Can I walk you inside? You know, just in case you trip over your heels again or something.”

Feeling a bit shy but unable to contain your own grin, you nod in agreement. You slide your arm through his, your hand resting against his bicep. “Just in case, of course.”

The ceremony unfolded before your eyes, and it became the most beautiful moment you’ve ever witnessed.

Tears well up in your eyes as you watch Jennie make her way down the white carpeted aisle, arm in arm with her father, and a radiant smile gracing her lips. She looks absolutely stunning.

The second wave of emotion hits you as you witness the love and happiness between Jennie and Justin. Their whispered vows, the tender embrace, and the loving kiss they share leave you and many others in tears. The guests join in with boisterous claps and heartfelt cheers, celebrating their union.

And then the third, and thankfully final, wave of tears washes over you as the triplets take the stage for their best men’s speech. Chris, in his touching words, comments on the beauty of Jennie and the ceremony. Matt chimes in, expressing that in all the years of being Justin’s brother, he has never seen him this happy, thanking Jennie for the permanent smile on his face. Nick follows suit, expressing his eternal gratitude to her for bringing happiness to his brother’s life.

Third, and thankfully final, wave of waterworks happened when the triplets began their best-men speech, how Chris commented on how beautiful Jennie and the ceremony was, and how Matt was the one to claim that in the many years of being Justin’s brother, he has never seen him this happy and that the permanent smile on his face was all thanks to Jennie, to which Nick followed through and admitted how eternally grateful he would be for her giving his brother his happiness.

You weren’t going to cry again, although the food served at dinner tasted delicious, and you resist the urge to kneel down and praise the chefs for their outstanding work. Instead, you keep your emotions at bay and thank them as they come to clear the plates from your table.

Tess, a shared friend of yours and Jennie’s, strikes up a conversation with you during dinner, reminiscing on past memories and current. Then her eyes get fixed on the happy couple mingling with Justin’s family, and she comments;

“You know, I always knew Jennie would be the first one from our class to get married. I just didn’t expect it to be with someone slightly older,” Tess smacks her red, painted lips together and takes a sip of her wine, nursing the glass in her hand. “She’s always had this aura about her, you know? Meeting the perfect guy young, falling in love, getting married in her twenties, living in a fancy home with a white picket fence, husband, kids—maybe even a dog or two. God, I wish I had my life planned out like that.”

You raise an eyebrow and offer a gentle reminder, “Well, nothing is stopping you. How are things going with you and Ryan?”

Tess gives you a look, “Do you see a ring on my hand?”

“Not yet,” A chuckle leaves your lips, pushing Tess’s hand out of your face as she waves it in front of you.

She laughs, retracting her hand back to tuck her hair behind her ears. “What about you? Have you been seeing anyone recently?”

“No,” You can’t help but sound a bit bitter as you respond, not in the mood to recount the string of disappointing Tinder dates and unsatisfying hookups that have left you feeling frustrated. “I’m going to live a miserable single life. Maybe I’ll get a dog to make me feel less lonely.”

“The last time we spoke, you were seeing Jennie’s cousin, right? Was his name Liam?” His name makes you grimace and Tess snorts, covering her mouth to conceal the rest of her amusement. “Was it that bad?”

“To be fair, he did warn me that us fucking in his apartment would be risky because of his roommate being there.”

Tess’s brows furrowed in confusion, “What do you mean? Does his roommate never leave the apartment?”

You let out a frustrated wail, frowning at the memory. “No! They share a fucking room. Their beds are literally pressed together, toe to toe!” Tess is unable to control her laughter now, almost spitting her wine across the table as she splutters, but you take no notice as you shiver at the memory. “They turned their perfectly capable extra bedroom into a makeshift gym… it was scary.”

“Please, your dates can’t be all that bad,” Tess says, and you almost break into the story of your much recent date that you had explained to Jennie prior, but your attention is drawn to a soft call of your name. You turn in your seat to see Chris standing behind you, wearing a boyish yet kind grin on his lips.

It takes you an embarrassing amount of time to realise that he’s asking if the chairs beside you are free, and you nod dumbly, offering him a smile as you expect him to grab the vacant chair and take it wherever he needs to go. But to your surprise, Chris slides the chair out from beneath the table and sits beside you.

He begins to explain, “Justin and Jennie are talking with her family. Nick is taking pictures, and Matt’s with our parents. It was getting a little boring over there, so I hope you don’t mind me bothering you instead.”

“Not at all,” You smile warmly at him, “The speech was amazing, by the way.”

Tess chimes in without missing a beat, her tone teasing. “She cried,” She nods towards you, and you playfully nudge her with your shoulder. “But she’s right, though. You and your brothers did a great job with the speeches.”

Chris grins in response, running his fingers through his hair to push the curls away from his face. You can’t help but admire the sight, a desire to reach out and run your own fingers through his locks briefly crossing your mind. But you keep your hands occupied with holding your wine glass, maintaining a respectful distance.

Tess’s boyfriend, Ryan, soon joins the table, and he immediately strikes up a conversation with Chris. The two of them engage in a series of discussions and topics that leave Chris laughing loudly, unable to keep himself upright, his shoulder brushing against yours every so often, and you can’t help but feel flustered as his warmth radiates towards you.

You are so embarrassingly touch starved.

As the conversation continues, Ryan suddenly excuses himself, mentioning that he’ll treat the entire table to drinks. Chris offers to accompany him, and he dips his head low in your direction to quietly ask about your drink preference, but Ryan’s hand clamps down on Chris’s shoulder, assuring him that he knows everyone’s favourite drinks. With a firm tug, Ryan pulls Chris towards the bar, leaving you momentarily disappointed and longing for more interactions with him.

Tess observes the duo walking towards the bar, wearing a mischievous smirk on her face. She then shifts her gaze to you and comments, “He’s cute. Like, really cute.”

You nod, a light laugh escaping your lips. “I know,” You admit, your voice filled with amusement. “I actually met him earlier. He saved me from tripping over these heels like an idiot.”

“Wow… so, you literally fell for him.”

“Funny,” You snort, finding her words amusing. Finishing the last sip of your wine, you place the empty glass on the table and wipe the corner of your lips with a napkin. Your attention shifts towards the bar, where Chris and Ryan are engrossed in conversation, both laughing. “Fuck,” You mutter softly. “He really is cute.”

“Ask for his number,” Tess suggests, “Or bring him home with you later. Keep your bed warm.”

You playfully gasp in response, “This is a wedding! I’m trying to be classy today.”

“Oh, I’m far from classy,” Tess scoffs, sending a sultry look towards Ryan, who meets her eyes from across the room and winks at her. “I almost jumped Ryan outside when I saw him dressed in the suit.”

You burst into laughter at Tess’s comment, but before you can fully respond, Chris and Ryan return back to the table, carrying a tray of drinks. They distribute the beverages, and you patiently wait your turn, smiling at Chris as he takes his seat beside you, holding two glasses of red wine in his hand.

He hands one over to you, “You cool with red wine?”

You hum, taking the glass between your fingers with a smile. “I’m cool.”

Chris returns your smile, his grin widening as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. “Cool.”

The drinks start to flow through your system, and soon you find yourself becoming increasingly tipsy and talkative. Engaging in lively conversations with the table, the topics range from various subjects to the details of the wedding itself. Jennie and Justin finally join in, accompanied by Nick and Matt.

Chris, too, seems to be in a similar state of tipsiness, becoming more talkative and touchy.

You don’t mind when you feel Chris unintentionally lean against you, his body pressing lightly to yours as he listens intently to Jennie she speaks. He hangs onto her every word, his laughter filling the air whenever Justin interjects with a joke or flirty comment, or when Matt and Nick chime in with their own commentary.

During this interaction, you can’t help but notice how animated Chris becomes when he speaks. His hands are in constant motion, emphasising his points, clapping them together, or even slamming them down on surfaces when something particularly funny is said.

You’re taken aback when Chris dramatically sighs in response to one of his brothers’ teasing and drops his hands, unintentionally resting them on your thigh. The warmth of his palm against your skin and the gentle tapping of his fingers send a rush of sensations through you. It’s a moment that catches your full attention, leaving you unsure of how to react.

Chris seems oblivious to what he’s done, perhaps too caught up in the conversation or the effects of the drinks. You contemplate whether to subtly let him know or allow the touch to continue, as you find yourself enjoying the comforting and slightly arousing sensation. It feels nice, and a part of you doesn’t want it to end.

You bite back any type of response or comment, and you hide your grin behind the rim of your wine glass, taking a sip while ignoring Tess’s lingering gaze and her teasing nudge against your side. Jennie also catches on quickly, wiggling her eyebrows in your direction before leaning into Justin’s ear to whisper something.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes when Justin gazes at you, likely picking up on the situation as well.

The attention shifts away from the two of you and back to the ongoing conversation, allowing you to exhale deeply, relieved that the focus has been diverted.

However, Chris notices your sigh and leans in close, his warm breath brushing against your ear as he whispers in concern. “You good? Did you have too much to drink or something?”

You turn to face him with a smile, assuring him, “I’m okay.” His worry immediately fades as he returns your smile.

Just as he’s about to say something else, a small movement causes his hand to shift on your lap. Chris’s head drops down, his eyes widening comically as he realises where his hand has been this entire time.

“Oh shit,” He slowly withdraws his hand, “Oh. Wow. Damn. I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“It’s okay,” You interrupt, wanting to ease any embarrassment or discomfort he may be feeling. You gather your courage and place your hand on top of his, causing his hand to settle back onto your thigh. You notice his throat bob as he swallows, his eyebrow twitching as his gaze shifts between your hands and your eyes. Wanting to reassure him, you repeat, “It’s okay.”

“Yeah? You sure?” Chris asks, and despite wanting to make sure you were fully okay with the situation, he turns his hand beneath yours, palm to palm, his fingers twitching with the urge to intertwine.

But you take the initiative and lace your fingers together, holding his hand firmly in your grasp. Chris bites down on his cheek and glances away, unable to hide the goofy smile that spreads across his lips, and his grip tightens on your hand, his thumb gently grazing across your knuckles. he turns his hand around beneath yours, palm to palm, his fingers twitching against your own as he was desperate to lace them together, but it was you who took that initiative.

“Oh. I love this song!” Jennie exclaims loudly at the sound of a familiar song playing in the venue, drawing everyone's attention to the dance floor. She pulls Justin up with her and looks over at you. “You coming?”

You find yourself torn between wanting to dance and not wanting to let go of Chris’s hand just yet, and a sense of selfishness washes over you.“You go dance together. I’m going to finish up my drink.”

Jennie smirks and sends a sly wink your way before she and Justin make their way to the dance floor. Meanwhile, Ryan stands up with Tess on his arm and asks Chris if he’s coming too. Chris hesitates for a moment before declining, his hand subtly squeezing yours beneath the table, a small gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed.

Ryan shrugs and accepts Chris’s decision, along with Matt and Nick, as they all head towards the dance floor. Nick, in particular, cranes his head back towards you and Chris, giving his brother a cheesy thumbs up to which you almost snort at.

As you watch the guests on the dance floor, a feeling of warmth fills your heart. The happiness radiates from the people around you, especially Jennie and Justin, who are wrapped up in each other’s arms, sharing whispered words and sweet kisses.

Lost in your observation, you fail to notice Chris trying to get your attention amidst the music. It’s only when he leans in close, his voice hushed, that you become aware of his attempt to talk to you. Struggling to hear him, you lean in ever closer, feeling a shiver run down your neck as his warm breath brushes against your skin. He asks if he can have your number.

For a quick moment, you’re stunned by his request, caught off guard by the sudden turn of events. However, you quickly regain your composure and nod your head in agreement, a smile forming on your lips. Chris wastes no time, swiftly retrieving his phone from his pocket with his free hand as the other remains intertwined with yours.

He hands you his phone, already unlocked and ready for you to put in your number. You can’t help but smile even wider as you type in your name and number, playfully adding a heart emoji to your contact information. Chris grins upon seeing it, and you notice in surprise that he doesn’t even attempt to remove the heart or replace it with a different emoji. He simply shuts off his phone and pockets it, leaving the heart intact.

A comfortable silence settles between the two of you as you bask in each other’s company, listening to the music, watching others dance and mingle around you. You’re typically the first one on the dance floor, letting the rhythm and the music move you. But right now, you’re content sitting beside the cute boy with your hands locked together.

Curiosity gets the best of you, and you decide to break the silence as you ask, “So, how come you didn’t want to dance?” You glance at him, taking a sip of your wine..

“I’m fine right here,” He replies, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “Why didn’t you want to dance?”

You muster up the courage to be bold with your answer, “Because I didn’t want to let go of your hand.”

“Wow,” Chris’s laughter fills the air, and he unconsciously swipes his tongue across his bottom lip as he tries to conceal his obvious grin. “You’re bold,” He says. “You kind of make me feel nervous sometimes.”

Raising an eyebrow, you press,, “A good nervous or a bad nervous?”

Chris exhales deeply, a genuine smile finally breaking through as he meets your gaze, “A really good nervous,”

Feeling more confident in yourself, you lean in closer to Chris, pressing your side against his. He laughs and allows you to do as you please, his fingers squeezing around your own in response. The close proximity between you both makes him feel a little hot beneath the collar.

Lost in the moment and distracted by you, Chris forgets that he’s still holding his glass in his other hand. As your face draws closer, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip, he accidentally loosens his grip on the stem of the glass when your nose brushes against his.

The drink spills over his lap, causing him to let out a surprised noise and jerk back in shock. He quickly releases your hand to grab the now half-empty glass, staring at the mess he’s created, a slight pink hue colouring his cheeks.

Chris is clearly embarrassed, sitting in stunned silence, not uttering a single word as he assesses the damage. Meanwhile, you gasp loudly, your hand flying to cover your mouth in shock.

Apologies spill out of you in rapid speed as you realise the consequences of your actions, blaming yourself for diverting Chris’s attention and causing the spill. You hastily grab a napkin from the table, tapping his lap in an attempt to dry his pants, all while continuing to whisper your sorrys. Despite the fact that his pants are black and won’t show a stain, you still feel responsible and guilty.

Chris’s eyes widen as he watches you, body frozen and his mouth dry as he feels your touch pressing against him. He’s unable to move or speak, caught off guard when he feels you press against his cock. It’s only when you start to wipe that he finally reacts, snatching your wrist in his grasp and emitting a choked groan.

“I’m good,” He strains, his voice tight as he tries to regain his composure. You immediately pull back once you realise how you were touching him. Embarrassed, you remain silent, unable to meet his eyes as you look away, avoiding any further interaction despite the thought of making him hard just from some mere touching leaves an ache between your legs, and you press your thighs together as you clear your throat.

Desperate to change the topic or find an escape route from the embarrassment, you suggest getting Chris another drink, glancing at his half-empty glass and then at the bar. However, Chris interrupts you before you can finish your offer, coughing and shaking his head.

“No, it’s good, you’re fine,” He insists, clearing his throat and shifting in his seat, pulling at his blazer to hide the bulge forming in his pants. “I’m, like, sorry… by the way.”

Quickly, you reassure him that he doesn’t need to apologise, taking the blame upon yourself for distracting him and causing the drink to spill.

“I wasn’t talking about that,” Chris cuts you off once again, making it clear that he’s referring to something else entirely. You swallow thickly, realising what he’s alluding to, and you shake your head, wanting to assure him that it’s okay. However, he continues, stumbling over his words. “I’m talking about me—okay, shit, look. It just happens, you know, and when you were touching me—”

You interrupt him this time, “It’s flattering, really,” you admit with a small chuckle to escape. “It’s fine, I promise. I’m sorry for touching you, though. I was only trying to help… and I understand that it's a totally normal reaction, so don’t worry. It’s cute.”

Chris stares at your face in silence for a moment before responding in a lighthearted tone. “Did you just call me getting hard cute?”

You grimace at your choice of words, “Pretend you didn’t hear that. I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Before you can start rambling and making excuses for your mistake, your voice trails off as you feel Chris’s hand slide back into yours. His fingers intertwined with yours, and you bite back a gasp as he gently guides your intertwined hands back to his lap, causally resting the back of your hand against the bulge in his pants. It makes your head spin.

You need him—no, you want him.

The thoughts that run through your mind and the needy ache between your legs has you desperate to be touched, to be fucked, all by him.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” You announce, noticing the rejected look on Chris’s face as he loosens his hold on your hand. However, you quickly tighten your grip, not wanting to let go. “Do you want to come with me?”

Chris looks confused. “What? To the bathroom?”

“Yes.”

“Do you, like, need help peeing or something?” Chris asks, unsure of your intentions.

“No, I don’t need to pee,” You can’t help but laugh, causing Chris to give you a puzzled look. Your attention is fully on him now, your eyes dark and tone sultry. “I just really want to go to the bathroom.”

“Oh…” Chris blinks, his eyebrows knitting together as he’s even more confused. But then, it all seems to dawn on him what you’re hinting towards, and his eyebrows raise slightly. “Oh.”

“So,” Your voice is laced with anticipation. “Do you want to come to the bathroom with me?”

Chris nods eagerly, his grip on your hand tightening. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go.”

You pull Chris up from his seat as soon as he gives you the confirmation you’ve been waiting for and you navigate through the crowded dance floor, heading towards the bathroom area.

Chris is hot on your heels, his hand still tightly clasped in yours, and almost tripping over his own shoes due to the speed you’re walking in, and him trying to keep up with you, ensuring not to stray too far from each other.

Unbeknownst to you, Justin and Jennie watch with amused smirks on their faces, exchanging celebratory fist bumps before sharing a sweet kiss of their own.

Finally reaching the bathroom area, Chris chuckles deeply as you yank him inside a vacant stall, closing and locking the door behind you. He takes in his surroundings first—the clean white marbled floor and walls painted with green vines.

“Wow,” Chris murmurs, seemingly impressed. “This bathroom is actually pretty neat—what are you doing?”

Your fingers are pulling at the buttons on his pants as you simply state, “I’m going to suck you off.”

“Yeah?” Chris hums, licking at his lips as he watches you drop to your knees, and his eyebrows pull together in concern when he notices your bridesmaid dress is wrinkling and losing its pristine condition. “What about your dress?”

“You’re worried about my dress? That’s cute,” You smile up at him. You free his cock from his trousers and boxers, and you wrap your fingers around the base which causes him to hiss through his teeth at the contact. “I don’t really care about my dress right now. All I care about is making you feel good.”

“Alright,” Chris slumps down on the closed lid of the toilet seat, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he looks down at you with hazy vision. “Go on. Do what you want.”

The moment he gives you the permission, you take him into your mouth, and a string of curse words leaves his lips, running his fingers through his hair as he stares down at you.

His cock feels hot and heavy on your tongue, and you take him down your throat, sucking him in and squeezing your fingers around the base that you struggle to fit all the way into your mouth. He’s big, bigger than you expected, and it drives you wild—the ache in between your legs becoming almost unbearable, but you want to play with him a little longer, to taste him more.

With Chris watching you through lidded eyes, it fuels you to put on a show for him, and that’s exactly what you do. You pull back, close your lips around his tip, sucking and using your tongue around his sensitive head. He’s panting above you, a throaty moan leaving him when you take him deeper into your mouth, jerking him off with each twist of your fist.

“You can touch me,” You remind him, a string of spit connecting from your lips to the tip of his cock when you move back to catch your breath. “Touch me, Chris.”

“Man, you’re insane,” Chris laughs deeply, and his hand comes down to rest on the back of your head. His fingers thread your through hair, gripping at the roots as he pushes you further down on his cock, and you gag a little when he hits the back of your throat so suddenly. But you breathe steadily through your nose, hollowing your cheeks around him, drool seeping past your lips. “Fucking filthy girl.”

You hum around his cock at his words, and you shuffle closer to kneel better between his open legs. The slight sting on your scalp from his tight grip on your hair urges you to do better, to give him everything you've got. The burn in the back of your throat is pleasurable and you moan, causing his hips to jerk forward at the vibration, and you take him in deeper.

“Oh, fuck me,” Chris grunts, pushing your head down. “Fuck. Just like that—god.”

You pull off of him with a lewd pop, and you use your hand to jerk him off as your glossy lips form into a sweet smile. “You’re noisy, you know.”

“What do you expect?” Chris hums with a lighthearted laugh, and his hand comes down from the top of your head to caress your cheek, his thumb pulling at your bottom lip. “I got a pretty girl on her knees in front of me sucking my cock, the fuck am I supposed to do?”

Your heart swells in your chest as you repeat, “Pretty girl?”

“Yeah,” Chris nods, grinning down at you. “The prettiest, ma.”

The choked groan that leaves him when you let go of his cock almost makes you take him into your hands again, but you’re too needy for him now—desperate to be filled by him.

Usually, you would scold yourself for allowing such a bare minimum compliment to get you so hot and bothered, but you didn’t care, not when it sounded so fucking good coming from him.

Chris watches with wild eyes as you yank your underwear down your legs, discarding them to the side and bunching the hem of your dress up to your waist as you ease yourself down on his lap. One of his hands comes to rest at your hip, and the other grips your jaw, finally bringing you in for a first kiss.

The kiss is sweet at first—soft and delicate, and Chris even takes a moment to lean back to gaze at your face with a small grin on his face. The grip he has on your jaw tightens a little, causing your lips to pucker up and he hums, nose brushing against yours before he claims your lips again.

This time, it’s more frantic. You’re biting at his bottom lip, his tongue dips into your mouth, teeth clashing, and his hands move to fist the material of your dress, bunching it higher over your hips as your own hand dips between your body to line his cock at your entrance, and you sink down onto him.

Chris grunts into your mouth while you moan, the feeling of him filling you so deep making your toes curl. Your arms wind around his shoulders to keep yourself steady as you leisurely bounce on his lap, and Chris’s grip is tight on your hips as he thrusts up into you.

He’s kissing you breathless, and you’re too drunk on his lips and cock to pull away for air. You lace your fingers through his curls as you fuck youtself down on him, putting all of your energy in riding him and it’s Chris that breaks the kiss to curse loudly with a moan, panting as he stares at you with wide eyes and red, swollen lips.

“You feel good,” Chris grunts. You clamp around him, whining softly at his compliment. “Fuck, ma… you’re so fucking tight f’me.”

“You’re being noisy again.” You repeat from before in a teasing tone, even though you’re not particularly quiet yourself. You’re unable to keep your noises at a minimum as you moan loudly when he matches the rhythm of your hips.

Chris laughs, “Shut up.”

Admittedly, you like the way he sounds edging closer and closer to release, and you would like to relish in the sound a little more, but when you hear the bathroom door suddenly open, your eyes widen as your hand flies down from his hair to slap over his mouth to silence him. Chris stares up at you in alarm as someone walks into the stall beside yours.

You’re still lifting and dropping yourself back down on him, and he’s still fucking up into you to keep the pace despite not wanting to get caught. But you’re thankful that whoever is beside you has flushed the toilet the second you let out a wail when his cock hits a spot within you, and Chris is quick to silence you too, pressing his hand over your own mouth and staring into your eyes.

You’re both panting heavily behind each other’s hands, and you can make out the sound of water running from the sink tap before it shuts off, then the bathroom door opens and creaks shut behind them, leaving you both alone once again.

Still, neither of you move your hand, still keeping each other silent despite the muffled noises you’re both making.

You feel yourself getting closer and closer to your orgasm, and you wonder if Chris feels the same. You get the answer when his eyes roll to the back of his head as he groans, his hand falling from your mouth to hold your waist and pull you down onto him.

As your hand moves from his mouth to touch his face, Chris finally speaks, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Me too,” You agree, exhaling deeply. “Cum. Cum inside me.”

The corner of Chris’s lips twitch upwards, “Yeah? You want that?”

You nod eagerly, “Yes. Please. Fill me up.”

“Fuck, alright.” Chris grunts, lurching forwards to slot his lips over yours, and his tongue dips into your mouth, gliding with yours as he cums deep within. He keeps moving you against him to reach your own high, and you wail as your orgasm hits you, convulsing around his cock as you hump his lap.

You’re heavily heavily, desperate to catch your breath as you break away from his lips, and he leaves messy, wet kisses down the column of your neck. His hands loosen on your hips to wrap his arms around your waist, holding you close to his chest and yours slide around his shoulders, fingers threading through his hair as your body trembles.

It’s silent between you both as you embrace each other, and Chris is still kissing your neck with his hands rubbing your back comfortingly, and you melt into his arms. You feel relaxed and content, even though you should be both cleaning yourself up and leaving before anyone else could walk in.

“Just so you know, I don’t do this,” Chris mumbles in the crevice of your neck. Your eyebrows knit together, and you arch back to look at his face, and he smiles at your confused expression. “I mean, like, meeting some stranger and hooking up with them. I don’t do that.”

“I don’t either,” You admit, chewing your bottom lip. “I usually go on at least one date before I do that.”

“Noted,” Chris grins sluggishly. “I’ll take you next time.”

His nonchalant tone makes your heart flutter, and you wonder if he knows what he has just said to you, and if he’s serious on potentially seeing you again. You want to question it, or at least have him repeat it, but you keep your lips pressed together when you notice Chris’s attention is brought to the décor of the stall like it was the first time he came in.

“This bathroom is really nice, though. I wonder if Matt and Nick know about this.”

#©sturnioz #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #chris x reader #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo triplets smut

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rhaenyra-storms · 8 months ago

Note

Hiii I hope you are well! I would like to request Cregan Stark x reader where he gifts her a direwolf on their wedding night and immediately regrets it when all her attention is on her new pet and not on him. Thank you 😊

this idea is simply so adorable, i love it!!

pairing: cregan stark x f!reader warnings: cregan being a little jealous, he needs attention (<3), brief mention of reader having had sex with cregan, nudity, reader's house is not specified but it's in the north, cregan and reader are a little madly in love words: 1.1k

masterlist

As a child, you had always wondered what your wedding night would be like. You had fantasised about the man you might marry, about the ceremony and what dress you would wear. Your mother had always assured you that you shouldn't dream too much about it, so the reality of things wouldn't potentially disappoint you.

Growing up in the most southern part of the North, you only ever ventured to Winterfell for a big feast. It was also the only time you were able to meet with Cregan Stark who happened to be the same age as you.

Your parents weren't oblivious to the fact that you seemed to get along well with the young lord and it wasn't a surprise to anyone when your marriage was arranged for years later. As you and him came of age, you had visited Winterfell countless times throughout your teenage years. Cregan had now accepted the title of Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, making you Lady of Winterfell after your planned wedding.

Despite your mother preparing you for the worst when it came to an arranged marriage, you were lucky enough to fall in love with the man you had to wed. Cregan was strong, but gentle and he loved to take you on long walks around the Godswood or even in the forest. His hands were calloused from work and fighting, but they always bore a comforting warmth when they gingerly touched your face.

Your wedding night had been a great feast and you seemed to lose yourself in each other when you were finally alone. The sounds from the people still celebrating downstairs had quiet down and so did the steps of guests returning to their rooms in the castle.

Cregan had wrapped his arm around you as you cuddled close to each other under the wolf pelts. You hadn't bothered to put on new clothes anymore, legs intertwined and your fingers moving over his strong chest.

Your husband planted a soft kiss on the top of your head, his hand gently moving down your spine. "I still want to show you something before we go to sleep, my love," he whispered, his deep voice leaving goosebumps on your skin. You tilted your head up, looking for his grey eyes as you were already wondering what he might have to show you in this moment.

You had already received so many gifts throughout the night, but nothing came close to spending time with Cregan, alone. "Now I'm curious," you chuckled and pushed yourself up a little.

His gaze lingered on your body for a moment and he didn't hesitate to steal a kiss from your lips before he climbed out of the bed. He grabbed his undergarments and a robe from the chair near the fireplace. It was hard to contain your smile when you watched the defined muscles in his back move as he covered himself up.

"Stay here. I promise I'll be right back."

Your husband probably wasn't gone for longer than a few moments, but you couldn't wait to see what he would come up with. You sat up against the headboard and pulled the covers over your body, impatiently staring at the door to your room.

After what felt like an eternity to you, Cregan eventually returned with a small puppy in his arms. A direwolf pup if your eyes didn't deceive you.

"You're joking," you gasped and didn't hesitate to open your arms, reaching out for the pup as your husband sat down on the edge of the bed. "You've been talking a lot about direwolves recently, so I thought this would make a fine gift for the new Lady of Winterfell," he smiled, placing the grey puppy down in your lap.

He was small, but his eyes were full with curiosity as it looked at you. "Is it a boy or a girl? This is wonderful, Cregan, thank you," you smiled, squeezing your husband's hand gently before stroking over the puppy's fur.

"It's a boy, but you can choose its name, of course."

It would take you a little to think about a suitable name, but that surely wouldn't stop you from cuddling the puppy all night long. The direwolf seemed to be content in your presence too as it cuddled into you almost instantly, looking up at you with its big eyes. Cregan watched you with a smile on his face and he took the time to drink a cup of wine and undress once more as you scratched the puppy behind its ears and made sure the wolf knew how adorable it was.

You had always admired direwolves and having your own seemed like a dream in this moment. You didn't even notice that your husband settled back into bed with you, laying down on the pillows next to you.

How much time passed until he broke the silence?

It was adorable to see you so happy. He wanted to see you like this for the rest of his life, happiness in your eyes and that adorable smile on your face. But he couldn't help feeling like he might have robbed himself of your attention for the evening and the following days. There wasn't any hard feelings of course, but he also couldn't resist you when you were right next to him.

While you were scratching the puppy under its chin, Cregan sat up next to you, one arm sliding around your waist. You could feel his breath next to your ear, a shiver running down your spine.

"You forgot me so easily," he joked softly, teeth grazing your ear. A giggle escaped your lips and you turned your head to him slowly, the still unnamed puppy stretching in your lab. "Is someone jealous?" You asked, coaxing a laugh from your husband.

"Maybe. A little. I want head scratches too," he grinned, taking your chin between two fingers and tilting your head more towards him. "I just want a few more kisses from my wife before we go to sleep." His voice got a little deeper with each word, his gaze flickering between your lips and eyes.

The puppy climbed over into his lap eventually, but you were too entranced in your husband's eyes to care too much about it. You brought a hand up to brush a loose strand of dark hair back behind his ear.

"Mhm, I'm sure I can arrange that," you whispered against his lips. Cregan closed the gap between you eventually, the kiss gentle, but passionate.

Even though you did continue to play with the puppy for a little while longer, he felt like the happiest man alive as his arms wrapped around you from behind, feeling your figure against him as he fell asleep slowly an hour later.

He couldn't wait to wake up next to you the following morning. And for all mornings to come.

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark fanfic #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark headcanon #cregan stark headcanons #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #cregan stark fan fiction #house stark #hotd imagine

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punkshort · 3 months ago

Text

Swept Away | Epilogue: Smooth Sailing

Pairing: sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Your new job at The Parador allows for some exciting perks.

Chapter Warnings: language, angry!joel, oral (m!receiving), smut (18+ MDNI), office sex, unprotected piv sex (reader has implant now as previously mentioned, we're safe), spanking, praise kink, mentions of substance abuse (not Joel or reader)

WC: 6.1K

Series Masterlist

Ten Months Later

It was still surreal sometimes to walk into an office with your name and Creative Lead printed on a nameplate next to your door, but after a handful of months, you were beginning to feel like less of an imposter.

Admittedly, it wasn't the type of job you had been applying for. You tried to use your experience as a production assistant to get your foot in the door with a talent agency, but you weren't having any luck. When Joel offered you the job in his marketing department, you didn't think you were qualified for it, but after discussing the duties with Caroline Harris, the creative director, you discovered your background would be well suited for the job. He must have known you would have instantly taken a liking to her because after a few more days of soul searching, you accepted the offer.

It felt strange in the beginning, and sometimes you still felt paranoid other employees were looking at you like you didn't deserve your success, but you felt confident all the hard work you did in the past several months spoke for itself.

And as it turned out, you were actually really fucking good at your job.

You left your office door cracked and set your things down on top of the chest of drawers behind your desk. Smoothing down your simple, grey dress that fell just above the knee, you sat down with a sigh in your leather chair and booted up your computer. While you waited for it to turn on, you sipped your coffee and glanced at your phone.

Zoe: Remember to call me later, I have news! I'm dating someone new!

You grinned and tapped out a quick response, promising to call before it got too late on the East Coast. Zoe never found out the truth about you and Joel, but you figured by now it didn't matter much. As far as she knew, you were still planning the "wedding", but it was just delayed until the hotel was built in Fiji, meaning you had a decent chunk of time to come up with another cover.

You saw a flash on your computer screen, indicating the monitor was up and running, so you placed your phone down to type in your password, then gasped excitedly when you were reminded of a Zoom call you had scheduled with Ellie.

Even though hiring Ellie wasn't technically your idea, Joel told Caroline it was because as he had told you at the time, he wouldn't have given her a second thought had you not been so taken with her work. So Caroline put you in charge of overseeing her progress, as well as a few other things for the new hotel.

It had been almost a month since you last spoke to Ellie and you were thrilled to get an update. The little video popped up, briefly displaying her name before she turned her camera on. You grinned from ear to ear when you finally saw her, specks of paint adorning her face and hair.

"How are you still up? Isn't it, like, three in the morning?" you asked.

"Yeah, but you know I do all my best work at night," Ellie replied before flipping the camera around so you could see her studio. There were a few drop cloths down, splashed with all sorts of colors of paint, and about six easels, all of which held paintings in different stages.

"Don't look at those yet, they aren't done," she said, and you laughed.

"You're the one in control of the camera, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbled. You could hear her converse sneakers scuffing along the canvas drop cloth while she took you across the room. She flicked on a light and you gasped at the shock of color.

"Oh, my god!" you exclaimed.

"Man, I was feeling so inspired last week, I just couldn't stop. We had a little tropical storm blow through and it just created all these beautiful scenes. Like, beauty amongst the wreckage, you know?" Ellie was saying as she slowly walked around the room, panning the camera to each painting so you could get a good look.

"Oh, wow. Ellie... these are stunning. You've made such incredible progress, I'm so impressed!"

She finished her lap around the room and there was a pause in the video before her face returned to the screen.

"Yeah, thanks. It's going really well. You know how nervous I was in the beginning, I didn't think I would be able to make the amount of paintings you were looking for, but at this rate I think I'll have them done ahead of schedule."

"Well, I always knew you could do it. You're so talented and you see things in such a different way than everyone else. I swear, your work is going to make the hotel really stand out," you gushed before taking a long sip of coffee.

"You gotta thank Joel again for me," Ellie said, flicking off the light and heading back into the main part of her studio. "The amount of money he's paying me is keeping my bills paid so I can focus entirely on this."

"I will. I'm sure I'll see him later this afternoon. He'll be so happy to hear about all your progress."

"I'll take a few pictures and text them to you before I go to bed. That way, he can see for himself," she promised.

"That sounds perfect. Is there anything else you need? How's Dina?"

You spent the rest of your thirty minutes catching up with her about her girlfriend, laughing as she told you how Dina finally wore her down and they adopted a cat. Just as she was telling you how the cat stepped in some paint and walked across one of her paintings, she yawned.

"Go get some sleep. We'll touch base again next month but in the meantime, if anything comes up, you know how to reach me."

She gave you a little wave before ending the call and you sat back in your chair, your office filled with silence once again.

The rest of your morning was spent reviewing potential candidates for a pianist position in the hotel lobby. On one screen you had a video of a candidate playing and on the other, their resume and list of references. All of them were natives from Fiji, just like Joel had promised Glenn.

By noon, you had whittled down the candidates to your top five. You were making a little pile with your notes written on bright pink post-it's when you heard a gentle knock on your door.

"Come in," you answered distractedly.

"Hey... busy?" Liam said. You looked up and smiled before shaking your head and offering him a seat.

"Just getting some resumes ready for the pianist job. I have to set up some interviews after lunch. What's up?"

Liam sighed dramatically and collapsed into a chair.

"Your boyfriend is on a tear today, I needed a break," he said, curling his fingers into a loose fist so he could examine his cuticles.

"Why? What's going on?" you asked, setting down your pen, curiosity piqued.

"Well... first, Jack kicked his ass during his boxing lesson, which he always fucking hates," Liam said with a roll of his eyes. "Then he found out there was a delay in shipping the marble flooring, but I told him that shit's coming from Italy and it's custom!"

"He really hates when there's any delays in construction," you said, wrinkling your nose. You had seen your fair share of his outbursts over the past few months as the hotel in Fiji slowly became a reality. Joel always said, Time is money, baby. The longer this takes, the less money I make.

"Then Tommy called to tell him some wood or... something... got damaged in a storm they had down there recently, so now he's waiting on another shipment from the states."

You buried your face in your hands at that point, knowing exactly the type of mood Joel was in just one floor above you. On one hand, you were always thrilled whenever Joel and Tommy spoke after they finally hashed things out and made amends six months ago. But on the other, you would have much preferred Tommy call with an update about his wife, Maria, or TJ, their son.

"And about ten minutes ago, Chrissy spilled his coffee," Liam finished, dropping his hand to his lap and crossing his legs. "Only saving grace was she spilled it on the floor and not on him."

You cringed when you imagined how stressed out poor Chrissy must have been in that moment. She was a trooper, you had to hand it to her. She had been Joel's secretary for almost three years and every time you saw her she looked more meek and frightened than the last time.

"So, what you're saying is I should surprise him and take him out to lunch."

Liam's face broke out with a huge grin and he lightly clapped his hands.

"Would you mind? I think it would really help. He's always so much easier to handle after he sees you." He was really laying it on thick now and you knew it.

"I already agreed, you can drop it," you laughed, locking your computer and grabbing your purse.

"It's not an act," Liam said, following you out the door towards the elevator. The floor was quiet, most employees likely out to eat already. "I mean, yeah, maybe sometimes I try to flatter you into helping us out, but I'm serious. It's like you're chamomile tea on legs."

You arched an eyebrow at him when the elevator doors slid open. "Chamomile tea?"

"Is a tranquilizer dart better? Or lion tamer?"

You pursed your lips, thinking it over when you pressed the button to his floor. "Yeah. I like lion tamer."

Liam laughed and pulled out his phone to check his texts.

"This is perfect timing. He's about to wrap up a meeting and he doesn't have another one until two." Liam slid his phone back into his pocket and gave you a pleading look. "Please feel free to take your time."

"Oh, come on! He can't be that bad," you said with a hand on your hip. The doors opened up and let you out onto the executive floor, on the opposite side of the building from Joel's office, which is why it was so impressive you could hear him shouting from where you stood.

"Is the door open?" you asked quietly.

"Nope," Liam replied, giving you a look that said I told you so.

You swallowed nervously then lifted your chin with confidence as you made your way past the conference room towards his office. When Chrissy spotted you, she practically jumped out of her chair.

"Oh, my god, thank you," she whispered, her curly brown hair bouncing across her forehead with every step she took. She clasped her hands together and held them tightly against her chest.

"Don't thank me yet, I haven't done anything," you replied, but gave her a reassuring smile anyway. "Why don't you guys go to lunch? I'll take it from here."

The speed in which they tore out of the office was Olympic level.

You perched on the edge of Chrissy's desk as you waited for Joel's meeting to be over. Through the door, you could hear some voices through his phone, as well, one of which you recognized as the project manager for the hotel in Fiji. You looked down at your hands, ignoring the raised voices in the next room, and stared down at the huge diamond ring on your right hand. Splaying your fingers wide, you admired the way the light caught the little facets of the diamond, smiling a little when you saw rainbow flecks dot the walls of the mostly empty floor.

Ages ago, Joel had asked you to keep the ring he got you to use in Fiji. You nearly had a heart attack until he realized how it looked and he nervously clarified he wasn't asking you to marry him, just that he felt the ring was always yours and he couldn't bring himself to return it, so he bought it.

You smiled to yourself when you thought back on that day. It was just after he finally said I love you for the first time. It was a little ridiculous to think he would be asking you to marry him when it took him months to say those three words, but your heart still skipped a beat in that half a second of confusion.

After your pulse slowed, you accepted it with an awkward laugh, putting it on your right hand where it had remained ever since. You knew there was no use arguing with him about gifts and money anymore. When he bought you something, he was relentless until you took it.

Actually, you've grown to kind of like it.

Or, maybe you just liked the idea of Joel thinking about you when you weren't around.

Through the door, you heard the phone call cut with a terse farewell and then, the tell-tale rustle of men's dress pants with the clearing of throats. One man was still talking, his voice forcibly calm as he assured Joel that he would get back to him by the end of the day with the correct numbers on some payroll report, and then the door swung open. Men poured out, some hurrying past you without even realizing you were there, their faces red and their jaws clenched. The ones that did notice you gave a quick nod of acknowledgement before hurrying away, as if they were afraid Joel would remember he had one or two more biting comments and call them back in.

When the last of the men filed out, you heard Joel bark, "Shut the door," and then the creak of his leather chair under his weight. A man you vaguely recognized pulled the door shut behind him before spotting you. He was frazzled and exhausted when he exhaled and loosened his tie.

"Good luck," he said, and you laughed softly. You watched as the last of the men filed towards the elevators, their padfolios and phones overflowing in their hands as they shuffled onto the car and disappeared behind the closed doors.

The floor was quiet now. Joel's office was the only one with a light on.

Biting back a smirk, you pushed off Chrissy's desk and straightened your dress before rapping your knuckles on his door.

"What the fuck now?" came Joel's sharp voice from the other side. You pushed the door open and crossed your arms, waiting until he dragged his gaze up from his desk. When he realized it was you, his expression instantly softened and he stood.

"Sorry," he grumbled.

"It's okay," you replied, stepping inside the room, shutting the door behind you. Joel rounded the desk and raked his fingers through his hair. You bit your lower lip, gaze quickly drifting down his broad frame. He was wearing a white dress shirt with his dark grey suit, the coat abandoned over the back of his chair. It was the first time you had seen him since you left him asleep in bed early that morning.

"What's goin' on, baby?" he asked as he crossed the room to pour himself a drink. You made a face at the amber liquid and he swiveled around, raising the glass of whiskey in your direction.

"Want one?"

"No, Joel. It's barely noon. I came to see if you wanted to get lunch, but I'm guessing today's not the best day," you said, closing the distance between you to smooth down the front of his shirt with your palms. He lifted the glass to his lips and tossed the drink back in one go before setting it down on the bar and wrapping his big hands around yours, pressing them firmly to his chest.

"'M sorry, not havin' a great day."

"I can tell."

"You hear all that?" he murmured, bringing one of your hands up to his mouth. His lips brushed over your knuckles as he gazed at you through tired, heavy eyes and you smiled. Moments ago, those eyes were firey and filled with rage.

But not when he looked at you.

"Some of it," you admitted. "What's wrong?"

Joel exhaled through his nose and dropped his hands to your hips, giving them a little squeeze and pulling you closer. "You weren't there when I woke up this mornin'."

You rolled your eyes playfully at him and he gently pinched your side.

"I told you I had to get up early so I could get ready for work-"

"'N I told you to bring your stuff over last night," he countered.

"Joel, I hadn't been home in days. I needed to make sure the place was still standing and water my plants."

Then, he said something that sent shockwaves through your whole body.

"Just move in with me, then it ain't a problem anymore."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and you forgot to breathe for a moment.

"What?" you asked breathlessly. But Joel just shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Move in with me," he repeated. "Plants, too."

"Y-you... you want me to move in with you? Like, permanently?" you repeated in disbelief. Joel smirked down at you and nodded.

"Yeah, like, permanently. The hell you think I mean? Get rid of that place, you know I don't like that neighborhood," he said, then lifted his chin when he heard his email program chime somewhere behind you.

"Joel... are you sure? That's a big step for you," you replied, feeling completely knocked sideways by his blunt request. Sure, he had the room. His house was the closest you'd ever come to being inside a mansion. Hell, to you it was a mansion. Six bedrooms and four bathrooms with an in-ground pool, tennis court, steam room and gym was only ever something you'd seen on television. But living in Los Angeles told you there were plenty of houses three times the size of his.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I want you with me all the time," he said, kissing your cheek before leaving you by the bar so he could check his email.

"My stuff, too? I can't imagine my shitty television in your house," you joked. Joel just nodded, his eyes pinned to his computer screen.

"Your stuff, too. I want all a'you. Even your coffee pot."

Joel collapsed angrily into his high back chair to answer the email while you sneakily slid back to the door, quietly flicking the lock before slowly walking towards his desk. You knew most people were at lunch, but you still didn't want to risk it for what you had in mind.

"Okay," you said softly, hip pressing against the hard wood, fingers nervously digging into the complex design carved into the edge.

"Okay, what?" he murmured, focus still fixed on the email. You watched his scowl deepen the more he read and you knew he was slipping back into that mood you found him in earlier.

"Okay... I'll move in with you."

His eyes snapped up to yours and for a moment, the scowl smoothed out into a pleased grin.

"Good. Start packin' tonight. Don't wanna be wakin' up anymore without you," he said, then his eyes dropped back down to his email. "Messes up my whole day when I do."

You giggled and rounded the desk, intentionally slotting yourself between his eyes and the computer.

"Is that why you're up here screaming at everyone? 'Cause you woke up without your sugar baby?"

Joel leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes at you.

"Quit it. You ain't a sugar baby."

"Didn't answer my question."

Joel laced his fingers together and dropped them in his lap with a sigh. "Sure didn't help."

You gave him a fake pout and leaned forward, hands bracing yourself on each arm of his chair. "I'm so sorry," you whispered, mouth hovering over his as you spoke. You could see his muscles tighten under his shirt when he heard the seductive tone in your voice. "Want me to suck your dick and make it all better?"

The corner of his mouth tugged into a devilish half-smirk, email long forgotten.

"Feels like it's the least you could do," he replied, his voice deep and gravelly. It sent a shiver down your spine and you grinned.

"The least I could do? What else do you want?" you asked before allowing your lips to brush delicately over his. You could taste the whiskey there and you licked your lips.

"Wanna bend you over this desk and fuck you. Hard."

A soft moan slipped past your lips right before his mouth crashed into yours. His tongue opened your mouth, licking feverishly past your teeth, giving you a stronger taste of the whiskey and mint from the gum he was likely chewing in anger during the meeting.

"I think that can be arranged," you gasped when you pulled away from his kiss. His dark eyes lit up when you sunk to your knees, his legs spreading wider when you began to unbuckle his belt. Two fingers rubbed against his lips, hiding his smile while he watched you pop the button on his slacks and slowly work the zipper down.

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest when you dipped your fingers past his waistband and felt the stiffness of his cock hiding just underneath a thin layer of fabric. Your eyes flickered up to meet his and with a sly smile, you said, "Hard already?"

Joel shrugged with a shit-eating grin.

"Been hard since you walked in the goddamn room, baby."

You bit back a smile, chest bursting with pride and, yeah, it turned you on to be the one who made this big, scary man all soft and weak. Rubbing your thighs together, you inched forward to gently pull his stiff cock over the top of his underwear.

You tutted under your breath and frowned, both of you watching your hand slowly slide up and down his shaft.

"Poor thing," you murmured, smiling when you heard his breath stutter after your thumb swiped over the bead of arousal pooling at the tip. "Look at you. All worked up and angry the whole morning when all you needed to do was call me. I would've come up to help you."

Joel gasped, fingernails digging into the padded leather armrests when he felt your fingers tighten around him.

"Then fuckin'... goddamnit - fuckin' help me now. C'mon, quit teasin' me and suck it," he commanded through clenched teeth.

You raised an eyebrow at him and your hand paused.

"Say please."

"Please," he whined without hesitation. The sound made you weak, eyelids fluttering for a second before you shook it off and met his gaze again.

"Good boy."

He smirked down at you, some snappy response on the tip of his tongue but it disappeared when your wet lips wrapped around him, tongue darting forward to flick teasingly at his slit, all while maintaining eye contact.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, allowing his eyes to close and his head to tip back when you took him deeper into your mouth. Before he reached the back of your throat, you swirled your tongue around his girth, moaning when you tasted a new drop of precum.

"Yeah, baby, just like that," he murmured when his hand found a new home on the back of your head. Carefully, he urged you down, hissing when you hollowed your cheeks and took him as deep as you could handle. Joel forced his eyes to open so he could admire the pretty little mess he made of you. Your lips were swollen and wet, stretched wide over his considerable length while you focused on keeping your breath steady and your gag reflex in check.

He could have came from the sight alone.

You pulled back with a gasp, saliva pooling around the corners of your mouth as you dragged in deep lungfuls of air. Your hand picked up where your mouth left off, twisting your wrist and spreading the wetness up and down his shaft as you caught your breath for a second.

"You taste so good, Joel," you whispered, locking eyes with him again. "Might just have you come down my throat, instead."

Before he could answer, your lips were wrapped around him again, sucking and moaning around his cock like it was the sweetest thing in the world.

"No," he rasped, fingers tightening their hold in your hair. "Wanna - fuck you," he added with a deep groan. Even though he knew he shouldn't, he let you keep going, his hips involuntarily bucking up towards your mouth as he spoke.

Right when you began to get carried away, your head bobbing faster and your wrist flicking quicker, he yanked you off with a shared gasp.

"Sorry," he apologized, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before reopening them. "Too close."

You stood up, thumb swiping your lower lip with a cocky grin. Then, Joel watched as you shimmied out of your panties, dropping them in his lap before hiking up the skirt of your dress to your mid-thigh.

"Whenever you're ready, sir."

He chuckled darkly and stood, thighs trembling for just a quick moment before he swiveled a finger in the air.

"Turn 'round."

You did as you were told, palms pressed flat against the top of his desk, tilting your hips back so your ass jutted out, just barely covered by your dress.

With one hand he pulled the material up, exposing you to the tinted windows behind him. His other hand came down with a sharp smack across your skin, the action so fast and unexpected that it took you a few seconds to register it.

"Again," you whispered over your shoulder, this time bracing for the hot sting of pain across your ass. When he gave it to you, you moaned, arousal pulling tight between your legs, then you dropped your head limply between your shoulders as the pain blossomed into pleasure.

"That's my girl," he growled in your ear. His knee pushed your legs open and you held your breath when he leaned back to slide his cock through your folds before lining himself up at your opening.

"Breathe, baby," he whispered, and you let out a shaky breath right as he pushed inside.

"Shit," you panted, arching your back and digging your fingers into the dark wood of his desk while he continued to ease inside of you, muscles only relaxing when he finally buried himself to the hilt and his lips returned to the shell of your ear.

It wasn't the first time he fucked you in his office. In fact, both of you were very eager to take advantage of the new situation only a week into the start of your job. But it didn't matter how many times you'd done it because it was still always a thrill. There was something incredibly hot about this powerful man fucking you on his desk. Or his couch. Or his chair.

Or one time on the conference room table long after close of business.

Joel set a quick pace right away, knowing full well your time was limited before people began to return from lunch and inevitably came looking for him. One hand remained firmly on your hip while the other drifted up to squeeze your breast through your dress, fingers giving your nipple a little pinch just so he could hear you whimper for him.

"Always ready for me, ain't you?" he groaned, teeth grazing over your earlobe. His breath was shallow, soft pants against your skin matching the rhythm of his hips. "Christ, baby. So fuckin' wet. You love takin' my cock like this, huh? Or was it me askin' you to move in that did it?"

"Both," you moaned, tossing your head back to rest on his shoulder, eyes gliding shut and mouth falling open as you focused on the intense pace he set. The tip of his cock brushed steadily against that spot inside you that had your knees going weak and you could feel that warmth in your stomach turning into fire the harder he fucked you.

Joel's eyes lifted to glance at his door when he heard the faint sound of voices filing off the elevator. Lunch hour was wrapping up, and so was your time. He clenched his jaw and pounded into you faster, the telltale sound of skin slapping against skin the only noise echoing in the room.

"I... locked it," you gasped, falling forward onto your elbows, hips sparking with pain against the hard wood of his desk. He grinned and straightened his spine, watching the way your ass rippled against him every time he slammed into you.

"Good. 'Cause no one gets to see you like this 'cept for me."

You nodded dumbly, unable to form words as your orgasm began to swell, threatening to destroy you. Your pussy started to pulse around him, stars littering your vision and you slapped your palm over your mouth to muffle the sound when you came.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he groaned, hips losing rhythm. Breath growing sharp. Fingers digging deep and eyes rolling to the back of his head. You whimpered when he pounded into you one last time, stilling as he pumped you full of his release, broken moans tumbling from his lips until he was spent.

Almost immediately, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you up and pressing you protectively against his chest.

"You okay?"

"Mhm," you hummed, admittedly still in a bit of a daze but you were starting to snap out of it. His ragged breath in your ear was all you could hear, his pounding heart against your back all you could feel, and it was enough.

Without warning, he slipped out of you, but kept his arms circled around your front, pressing sweet kisses behind your ear and down your neck. You melted into him, knowing how much he enjoyed holding you after, at least until he caught his breath and came back down to earth.

"I love you."

Those three words still managed to send a tingle down your spine and brought a lazy smile to your face.

"I love you, too," you whispered, twisting your neck so your mouth could seek out his. His beard was untamed and prickly against your lips, tickling you and making you giggle.

"C'mon, get yourself decent," he teased with a playful grin and a smack against your thigh. He stepped backwards to fix his clothes while you swiveled back and forth, searching the ground for your panties.

"Lookin' for these?" he asked, holding them up between two fingers when you turned around. You reached out to grab them but he pulled them back, shoving them in his pocket before tucking in his shirt.

"You're gonna make me walk around the rest of the day without underwear? With your come dripping out of me?" you asked. You already resigned yourself to your fate and pulled down the skirt of your dress.

Joel pinched your chin and pressed a quick kiss against your lips.

"Yep. Just the way I like you."

"Dirty man."

"Just the way you like me," he laughed, dodging your hand when you reached out to smack him against the arm.

You opened your mouth to say something back when his desk phone chimed and the red light in the corner lit up. Joel finished buckling his belt and glanced up at you to make sure you had fixed yourself before pressing the intercom button.

"Yeah?"

Chrissy's nervous voice filtered through the speaker.

"Mr. Miller, just confirming your dinner reservation for tonight. Still expecting three people?"

"Yep," he replied, then thought about it for a quick second before pressing the button again. "Thanks, Chrissy. Why don't you take off early, after my two o'clock?"

You grinned, practically sensing her shock through the wall as you sat down in the chair opposite his desk.

"Uh... okay. T-thank you so much!"

"No problem," he said, then the red light turned off and he slumped down tiredly into his leather desk chair.

"Where are we going tonight?" you asked, crossing one leg over the other while you watched him shake his computer mouse back to life.

"Sarah picked this time. Some Mexican spot she wanted to try," he murmured, already fixating on an email in front of him. After some encouragement on your end, Joel had reached out to Sarah around the same time he called Tommy for the first time in years. While things had been rocky and awkward at first, it got easier over time. Eventually, they committed to dinners every other week, and after maybe the fourth one, Sarah had asked to meet you.

You were nervous leading up to it, but the moment you met you knew you'd get along. She was smart, beautiful, funny and had the same smile as her dad. She told you both a little bit about high school but preferred to talk about her soccer team or the play she was trying out for.

She didn't mention her mom much, and you didn't want to pry. From what Joel had mentioned, her mother ended up having some substance abuse issues in the past, which caused a strain on her relationship with Sarah. He felt horrible when he found out, told you that he felt like he should have been involved more to protect her, but you reminded him that he was there for her now and that you were proud of him for stepping up.

Despite it all, Sarah was a great kid. Every time you saw her, she opened up a bit more, smiled wider and laughed louder. After your dinners together, you could see the change in Joel: he was happier, too.

"Sounds good. I like Mexican," you said, fidgeting with your ring while Joel quietly replied to an email. The scowl was gone, his shoulders were looser and there were no more angry taps on the keyboard.

You opened your mouth to announce you should get back to work when he suddenly spoke.

"Why're you wearin' the ring on your right hand?"

Your eyes flickered up to his face but he looked like he was still absorbed in an email.

"This ring?" you asked, holding up your hand. It was the only ring you wore but you didn't know what else to say. You'd been wearing it on your right hand for months and he never said a word.

"Yeah. You wore it on your other hand in Fiji," he said, tearing his eyes away from the computer to look at you.

You stood up from your seat and gave him a curious look. "We were pretending to be engaged then, if you recall. We're not engaged now."

Joel smirked, the corners of his mouth dipping down when he shrugged, then stood to walk you to the door.

"Huh. Suppose you're right. Someone oughta do somethin' 'bout that."

You threw your head back and laughed before coming to a stop at his door and turning around.

"You just asked me to move in with you. What happened to the commitment-phobe I fell in love with?"

He grinned and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close so he could press a gentle kiss against your lips.

"You're right. I'll wait a week," he joked, then gave your ass a little tap before opening his door for you. "Thanks for lunch," he added as you walked past Chrissy, who was mid-whisper to Liam, no doubt telling him about Joel's sudden burst of generosity. You gave them both a little wave and tossed a wink over your shoulder at Joel leaning against his doorway, hands shoved in his pants pockets with a sly smirk on his face after his fingertips grazed the wet fabric shoved in there.

"See you tonight."

"Can't wait," he said, watching you disappear around the corner towards the elevator bank.

"So, you ate?" Liam confirmed, holding a leather bound journal and pen in his hand as he approached Joel. Even though the answer was no, he still nodded in response. "Good, because I have a couple things," he continued after clearing his throat. "Ellie's painting arrived yesterday, I'm having it gift wrapped right now. I got a call back from the guy who's renting you the yacht. He's good for Saturday. The captain and crew know the deal, too. Drop the anchor, make the food, pour the champagne, and disappear after dinner's cleared up. They have a little boat they can take back to land so the yacht's all yours til morning."

A slow smile stretched across his face and he looked down the hall again, towards the elevator bank.

"Reschedule it for next week. I made a promise."

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wholoveseggs · 4 months ago

Text

Kinktober - {Day Seventeen}

{<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

{Daemon Targaryen x F!Reader} Request {Anon}: Daemon and a super innocent reader with 13, 7, 8, 19 & a small bit of 22????

♡♡♡ Anon you understand me so well... ♡♡♡

2.6k words - Kinks: squirting, breeding kink, size kink, daemon being possessive, mild mild dubcon, virgin!reader & inexperience...

Your eyes were drawn to the darkening sky outside your window as you finished getting ready for bed, the first few stars beginning to appear on the horizon. You could see the distant outline of the Great Sept of Baelor, lit up against the dark city, where your wedding ceremony was set to take place the following day.

Usually the sight of such a place would put you at ease, but you were too nervous about the events of the following day. A day you never thought would come, but now it had and you were scared.

You were to marry Daemon Targaryen. A man you only knew by reputation, one that left you feeling unsettled every time his name was mentioned. You heard tales of how he enjoyed bedding virgins and whores alike, how he was ruthless and dangerous and a Targaryen in blood and spirit.

You considered yourself to be pious, you prayed often and did everything your father told you to do. It was improper to speak of such things, and you had dutifully avoided any conversation about what happens in the marital bed. But now, you regretted your ignorance, the unknown act of sex was all the more terrifying to you now.

"My lady."

The voice had you jumping and spinning around in surprise. Your betrothed stood near the entrance to your balcony, wearing a dark cloak, the hood covering his silver hair.

"Prince Daemon," you said, bowing slightly. "What are you doing here?"

He chuckled at your formality, the way his eyes ran down your body making you feel more exposed than the thin nightdress you were wearing.

"My apologies, my prince," you quickly grabbed a robe and wrapped it around yourself, "I did not expect any visitors,"

His silence made your nerves rise, especially when his gaze lingered on your covered form for a long time before his eyes met yours again.

A slow smile spread across his lips and he looked away from you, out into the night, his expression becoming blank as he stared at the Great Sept.

"Is there something you wanted, my prince?"

"Daemon," he corrected you without looking away from the window.

You felt your cheeks warm, embarrassed at your mistake. An awkward silence filled the room, and you wondered what it was that he was expecting from you.

He glanced back at you, and then pulled off his cloak and threw it over a chair. The dark tunic he was wearing stretched over his chest and you looked away before he noticed you staring.

"Get on the bed for me," he said softly, the sudden command catching you off guard.

You glanced up in surprise, finding his eyes watching you with an intensity that made your stomach twist. He wanted you to get on the bed? Why? You had been taught that no one was allowed to touch you, especially not until you were married.

"I... That's quite improper, pri- Daemon," you said quickly, your voice barely a whisper.

He stepped closer, towering over you in a way that should have been intimidating, but instead it sent a rush of heat through you. You swallowed nervously as he reached a hand out, brushing his thumb across your cheek and down your neck.

"I will be your husband tomorrow," his words were gentle, but the firm grip of his hand around the side of your neck kept you in place, his eyes searching your face, "I want to see what I'm marrying,"

Your heart pounded as his thumb stroked over the delicate skin of your neck. You felt vulnerable, exposed under his scrutinizing gaze. You thought you had one more night before this happened, and you weren't prepared to give yourself over so easily.

"If we wait until tomorrow, I-"

He silenced you with a kiss, his lips soft against yours. His hands came up to hold your face as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You tried to pull away, but he held you in place, and a soft moan escaped you.

When he finally broke the kiss, your cheeks were flushed and his eyes were dark, a smug smile on his face as he watched you.

"Get on the bed, sweet girl,"

You swallowed nervously, and stepped backwards towards the bed, his eyes tracking your movements. He moved slowly, like a predator, and your breath caught in your throat when the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed.

"Take off your robe,"

You did as he commanded, removing the garment and setting it aside. You were suddenly very aware of your near nakedness, your skin heating under his hungry stare.

He smiled, tugging at the ties on his tunic, pulling it off to reveal his bare chest and abdomen. You couldn't stop the way your eyes trailed over his toned body, his broad shoulders and chest covered in scars.

"Like what you see, little dove?"

You snapped your eyes back up, finding him smiling knowingly. You turned your face away from him, trying to ignore the flush spreading across your face and chest.

He stepped closer, and you could feel the heat of his body against your skin. He gently pushed you onto the bed and climbed over you, his eyes never leaving yours as he settled between your legs.

"Now," his fingers brushed down the front of your nightdress, sending goosebumps over your skin, "let's see what we have to work with,"

His hands pushed up the skirt of your nightdress, exposing the smooth skin of your legs. His calloused hands caressed your thighs, his strong body holding you down.

You let out a shaky breath when his fingers grazed the damp fabric of your smallclothes. He rubbed a finger over your clothed cunt, a smirk on his lips as he watched the effect his touch had on you.

"Is that all for me?"

You whimpered when he pushed aside the cloth and slid a finger along your slit, his touch gentle but firm. He teased you with soft strokes, his thumb barely touching the sensitive nub at the top. You squirmed in his grip, your body reacting to his touch even though your mind was telling you it was wrong.

"Don't look so frightened, this is what we're meant to do," he whispered.

He lowered his head to kiss the inside of your thigh, then he pulled down your small clothes and tossed them aside. You squeezed your eyes shut when his breath fanned across the most intimate part of you.

"Oh," his voice was low, sending a shiver down your spine, "look at that pretty cunt,"

You bit your lip, embarrassed by the way he was looking at you, the hunger in his eyes making your heart race. You couldn't bring yourself to look away, entranced by the way his hands touched you.

He leaned in and kissed the apex of your thighs, his stubble tickling your skin as his tongue flicked over the swollen bud. You gasped, the sensation strange but not unpleasant. He licked and sucked at the sensitive little bundle, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he held them apart.

The heat building inside you was growing, a warm tension coiling in your lower belly. Your hands tangled in his hair, urging him closer, his tongue sliding over your cunt, his lips sucking and kissing the soft skin.

You were panting, a soft cry escaping your lips when his tongue slipped inside you, pushing deeper into the wet heat.

He pulled away, his mouth wet with your arousal, and his eyes dark. "Quiet, little dove, or else someone will hear us."

You clamped your mouth shut, trying to muffle the noises escaping your lips. But as soon as his mouth returned to your cunt, your hands tangled in his silver strands, tugging. He chuckled against you, the vibrations making you moan and writhe. His mouth was skilled, and the pleasure was unlike anything you had ever experienced.

"Daemon," you gasped, his name falling from your lips before you could stop it.

His hand reached up, covering your mouth, silencing you as his tongue moved faster. Your back arched off the bed, muffled cries escaping as you neared the edge. His fingers gripped your thighs, holding you still as he devoured you. The wet sounds filling the room drowned out every thought. You could barely breathe, your entire world narrowing down to the intense pleasure he was giving you.

And then, the tension snapped, and you were falling, waves of pleasure crashing over you, making you cry out into his hand. He didn’t stop, his tongue and mouth relentless, prolonging the sensation until you were squirming, trying to escape the overwhelming intensity.

When he finally pulled back, his lips glistening with your release, a wicked smile spread across his face. He watched you, panting and flushed, eyes wide with lust and wonder.

"Did you enjoy that, little dove?" His voice was low, teasing.

"Y-yes," you managed to breathe out, still lost in the haze of pleasure.

He kissed his way back up your body, leaving soft bites and licks on your exposed skin. He took his time, savoring every inch of you, his eyes darkening with each kiss. By the time he reached your face, you were breathing hard, your chest rising and falling rapidly. He kissed you, his lips soft but possessive, his hands resting on the bed beside your head.

"That was a nice warm-up."

You nodded, mind still fuzzy from the aftershocks. Tentatively, you reached up, your fingers tracing the muscles and scars on his chest. Each touch felt reverent, as if you were memorizing him.

His voice roughened, sending a thrill through you. "Now, I want to watch your pretty face while I fuck you."

"Daemon, I-"

He silenced you with another kiss, his tongue claiming yours before pulling back just enough to unlace his trousers. Your breath hitched as he freed his cock. You had never seen a man's cock before, and the sight was both intimidating and alluring. His smirk deepened at the look on your face, his hand stroking himself slowly, teasingly.

"Will it fit?" you asked, a nervous tremble in your voice.

He chuckled, brushing his lips against yours. "Of course it will, little dove. It’s meant to."

You took a deep breath, trying to relax, though the sight of him had your heart racing. His hand trailed over your thigh, soothing you even as his cock pressed against your entrance.

"Look at me," he whispered.

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze. The intensity in his eyes was overwhelming, filled with desire, hunger, and something darker. Something that made your stomach flip. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip before he slowly pushed inside.

You gasped, the stretch making you wince. He stilled, his eyes searching yours, giving you time to adjust.

"How does it feel, little dove?"

"Good," you whispered, the initial sting fading into a strange, aching fullness.

He grinned, kissing you deeply as his hips began to move, slow and deliberate. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, overwhelmed by the blend of pain and pleasure. He kept his movements measured, allowing you to get used to the feeling, his restraint evident in the tension of his muscles.

Soon, the pain faded completely, replaced by a growing need. You gasped, rolling your hips, urging him to go deeper. The sensation was too much, too good, and you needed more.

"Fuck," he groaned, his control slipping as he leaned back to watch you move beneath him, his hand gripping your hip tightly.

You felt a surge of power at the way he watched you, the way his cock throbbed inside you. His expression was pure lust, eyes devouring every part of you. You reached out, wanting to feel his skin against yours, and he pulled you into his arms, pressing your bodies together. His lips claimed yours once more, his kisses rough, needy.

"You'll make a good wife for me," he muttered between kisses. "Soon, you'll be full and round with my child, and everyone will know you’re mine."

His words sent a shiver through you, a mix of fear and excitement swirling in your chest. The thought of being his, of bearing his children, was overwhelming, but the need in his voice, his possessiveness, stirred something deep within you.

You clung to him, feeling his cock buried deep inside, the heat of his body, the smell of him, everything consuming you.

He pulled back slightly, his hand gripping the back of your neck, his eyes burning into yours. "Would you like that, little dove? To carry my child?"

You could only nod, too overwhelmed to speak. His smile was dark, possessive, and it sent a thrill through you. He kissed you roughly, as if sealing a promise, his pace quickening. The room filled with the sounds of your bodies, the wet slap of his cock thrusting into you, his breath hot on your skin.

Your cries were muffled by his mouth as the pleasure built, every thrust pushing you closer to the edge. The pressure inside you was unbearable, too much to hold back. And when you finally came, a rush of wetness spilled from you, your body shaking with the force of it.

"Did you make a mess, sweet girl?" he teased, his voice rough with satisfaction. You buried your face in his shoulder, mortified, but the heat between you only flared higher.

Daemon chuckled darkly, pressing you down onto the bed, his grip on your hips tightening. "Let’s see if we can make it happen again," he whispered, the dark promise in his voice sending another wave of heat through you.

His thrusts were relentless now, each one harder than the last, driving you to the brink again and again. The sheets beneath you were soaked, the evidence of your pleasure mingling with the slick sounds of his cock moving inside you. Every time you felt yourself nearing the edge, he would shift, slowing just enough to keep you teetering, teasing, drawing it out.

When you came again, it was with a muffled cry, your back arching off the bed, the pleasure even stronger this time. More wetness spilled from your cunt, soaking the sheets further.

He groaned, his hips stuttering as he followed you over the edge, his cock twitching as he spilled his seed deep inside you. The warmth of it made you shudder, a strange sense of completeness settling over you.

He collapsed on top of you, his breathing heavy, his body covering yours. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, the only sound in the room was the beating of your hearts.

"That was amazing," he murmured, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your neck. "You’re perfect."

You closed your eyes, savoring the weight of his body on yours, the warmth of his skin, the lingering pulse of pleasure in your veins. It felt almost dreamlike, the way he held you, his arms wrapped around you protectively.

For a moment, the world outside didn’t matter. But when he eventually pulled away, standing to dress, the intimacy shifted. You sat up, suddenly feeling exposed, awkward now that the intensity had passed.

"Tonight will be the last time we sleep apart," he said, his tone soft but filled with certainty. His eyes softened as he looked at you, a small smile playing on his lips.

The thought of being his wife was overwhelming, but exciting. You were going to have a family, a life with him, and in that moment, it didn’t seem like such a terrifying prospect.

He gave you one last lingering kiss before walking out. As the door clicked shut, you collapsed back onto the bed, exhausted. Your mind drifted, filled with thoughts of the future. Being married to Daemon didn’t seem so bad, especially if nights like this were waiting for you.

{<- kinktober masterlist}

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