#crushed velvet double bed

[beds-divans]

The Ultimate Guide to Luxurious Comfort and Style

Crushed velvet beds have taken the world of interior design by storm. Their rich texture, opulent appearance, and unparalleled comfort make them a favorite among homeowners and designers alike. In this comprehensive guide, we delve into the many facets of crushed velvet beds, from their history and manufacturing process to the benefits they offer and how to incorporate them into your home décor. Whether you’re a seasoned interior designer or simply looking to upgrade your bedroom, this article will provide you with all the information you need to make an informed decision.

The History and Appeal of Crushed Velvet

Crushed velvet has a long and storied history, dating back to ancient civilizations where it was considered a fabric of royalty and luxury. The process of creating crushed velvet involves pressing the fabric while it is still wet, resulting in its distinctive, irregular texture that catches and reflects light in a unique way. This texture not only enhances the visual appeal of the fabric but also adds a tactile element that is both soft and inviting.

The resurgence of crushed velvet in contemporary design can be attributed to its versatility and the sense of opulence it brings to any space. From traditional to modern interiors, crushed velvet beds seamlessly fit into various décor styles, making them a timeless addition to any home.

Benefits of Crushed Velvet Beds

Crushed velvet beds offer numerous benefits that go beyond their aesthetic appeal. Here are some key advantages:

Luxurious Comfort: The soft and plush texture of crushed velvet provides an unparalleled level of comfort, making it an ideal choice for bed upholstery.

Durability: Despite its delicate appearance, crushed velvet is a durable fabric that can withstand daily wear and tear. Its dense weave and high-quality materials ensure that it remains in excellent condition for years.

Versatility: Available in a wide range of colors and styles, crushed velvet beds can complement any interior design scheme. Whether you prefer bold, vibrant hues or subtle, muted tones, there is a crushed velvet bed to match your taste.

Easy Maintenance: Crushed velvet is relatively easy to maintain. Regular vacuuming and occasional spot cleaning are usually sufficient to keep it looking fresh and new.

Choosing the Perfect Crushed Velvet Bed

When selecting a crushed velvet bed, there are several factors to consider to ensure you make the best choice for your needs and preferences:

Size and Dimensions: Determine the appropriate size of the bed based on your room’s dimensions and your personal requirements. Crushed velvet beds are available in various sizes, from single to king size.

Color and Finish: Consider the color scheme of your bedroom and choose a crushed velvet bed that complements or contrasts beautifully with your existing décor. Popular colors include deep jewel tones like emerald green and sapphire blue, as well as neutral shades like grey and beige.

Bed Frame Style: Crushed velvet beds come in various styles, including sleigh beds, platform beds, and canopy beds. Select a style that aligns with your aesthetic preferences and functional needs.

Headboard Design: The headboard is a prominent feature of a crushed velvet bed. Look for designs that add visual interest, such as tufted, buttoned, or wingback headboards.

Incorporating Crushed Velvet Beds into Your Home Décor

To make the most of your crushed velvet bed, consider the following tips for incorporating it into your home décor:

Create a Focal Point: Use your crushed velvet bed as the focal point of your bedroom. Arrange other furniture and accessories around it to draw attention to its luxurious texture and design.

Complement with Textures: Pair your crushed velvet bed with other textured fabrics, such as silk, satin, or faux fur, to create a rich and layered look. Throw pillows, blankets, and rugs in complementary textures can enhance the overall aesthetic.

Choose Coordinating Furniture: Select bedside tables, dressers, and other bedroom furniture that complement the style and color of your crushed velvet bed. Opt for pieces with similar design elements or materials to create a cohesive look.

Play with Lighting: Proper lighting can enhance the luxurious appearance of crushed velvet. Use a combination of ambient, task, and accent lighting to highlight the texture and color of the bed. Consider installing dimmable lights to create a cozy and inviting atmosphere.

Caring for Your Crushed Velvet Bed

To maintain the beauty and longevity of your crushed velvet bed, follow these care tips:

Regular Cleaning: Vacuum the bed regularly using a soft brush attachment to remove dust and debris. This helps prevent the buildup of dirt that can dull the fabric’s appearance.

Spot Cleaning: In case of spills or stains, gently blot the affected area with a clean, damp cloth. Avoid rubbing, as this can damage the fabric. Use a mild detergent if necessary, and always test it on a small, inconspicuous area first.

Protect from Sunlight: Prolonged exposure to direct sunlight can cause the color of crushed velvet to fade. Position your bed away from windows or use curtains and blinds to protect it from harsh sunlight.

Professional Cleaning: For deep cleaning, consider hiring a professional upholstery cleaner who specializes in delicate fabrics like crushed velvet. This ensures a thorough and safe cleaning process.

Conclusion

Crushed velvet beds are the epitome of luxury and comfort, offering a timeless addition to any bedroom. Their unique texture, durability, and versatility make them a popular choice for those looking to elevate their interior décor. By choosing the right size, color, and style, and incorporating complementary textures and lighting, you can create a stunning and inviting space centered around your crushed velvet bed. With proper care and maintenance, your crushed velvet bed will remain a beautiful and cherished part of your home for years to come.

[bedsdivans64]

Crushed Velvet Double Bed: Luxurious Comfort for Your Bedroom

Introduction

Your bedroom is your personal sanctuary, and it deserves to be adorned with furniture that reflects your style and provides utmost comfort. When it comes to choosing a bed, the crushed velvet double bed stands out as a perfect combination of luxury, elegance, and functionality. In this article, we will explore the allure of crushed velvet double beds, their unique features, and why they are an excellent addition to any bedroom. From their plush texture to their durability and versatility, we will delve into the various aspects that make these beds a popular choice among homeowners.

Table of Contents

The Beauty of Crushed Velvet Beds

Unparalleled Comfort and Softness

Durable and Long-Lasting

Versatility and Style Options

Customization for Personal Taste

Health Benefits of a Comfortable Bed

Easy Maintenance and Cleaning

Perfect Fit for Various Bedroom Styles

Aesthetic Appeal and Timeless Elegance

Enhancing the Bedroom Ambience

The Affordable Luxury

Size Variations to Suit Your Needs

Factors to Consider Before Purchasing

Tips for Maintaining Your Crushed Velvet Bed

Conclusion

The Beauty of Crushed Velvet Beds

When it comes to aesthetics, crushed velvet beds exude a sense of luxury and opulence. The unique texture of crushed velvet fabric adds depth and dimension to the bed, creating a visually appealing focal point in your bedroom. The fabric's crushed appearance gives it a captivating sheen that catches the light, adding a touch of glamour to the overall ambiance.

Unparalleled Comfort and Softness

One of the primary reasons why crushed velvet double beds are favored by many is the unparalleled comfort they provide. The plush velvet fabric offers a velvety softness that invites you to sink into a cozy embrace each night. The cushioning effect of the fabric provides exceptional support for your body, ensuring a comfortable and restful sleep experience.

Durable and Long-Lasting

Crushed velvet double beds are not only visually appealing but also built to last. The fabric is known for its durability, making it resistant to wear and tear over time. With proper care, these beds can maintain their luxurious appearance for years, making them a worthwhile investment.

Versatility and Style Options

Another advantage of crushed velvet double beds is their versatility in terms of style. Whether you prefer a modern, contemporary look or a classic, traditional design, there is a wide range of options to choose from. From sleek and minimalist frames to elaborate and ornate designs, you can find a crushed velvet double bed that perfectly complements your personal style and bedroom decor.

Customization for Personal Taste

Crushed velvet double beds offer an opportunity for customization, allowing you to tailor the bed according to your preferences. From choosing the color of the fabric to selecting the bed frame design, you can create a bed that aligns with your unique taste and aesthetic vision. This level of personalization ensures that your bed becomes a true reflection of your style and adds a personal touch to your bedroom.

Health Benefits of a Comfortable Bed

A good night's sleep is essential for overall well-being, and a comfortable bed plays a crucial role in achieving that. The plushness of crushed velvet double beds promotes relaxation and relieves pressure points, reducing the risk of developing discomfort or body aches. By providing optimal support to your body, these beds contribute to a more restful and rejuvenating sleep experience.

Easy Maintenance and Cleaning

Contrary to popular belief, maintaining a crushed velvet double bed is not a tedious task. The fabric's smooth surface makes it easy to clean, and regular maintenance ensures its longevity. Simple practices like vacuuming, brushing, and spot cleaning can help keep your bed looking fresh and vibrant for years to come.

Perfect Fit for Various Bedroom Styles

Crushed velvet double beds seamlessly blend with different bedroom styles, making them a versatile choice for any interior decor. Whether your bedroom exudes a contemporary vibe or a traditional charm, these beds effortlessly complement the overall aesthetic, adding a touch of sophistication and elegance.

Aesthetic Appeal and Timeless Elegance

The aesthetic appeal of crushed velvet double beds is undeniable. The luxurious fabric instantly elevates the visual appeal of your bedroom, creating an atmosphere of elegance and refinement. Whether you opt for a vibrant jewel-toned bed or a neutral shade that exudes subtlety, the timeless elegance of crushed velvet adds a touch of grandeur to your space.

Enhancing the Bedroom Ambience

A bedroom is more than just a place to sleep; it should be a haven where you can unwind and relax. The presence of a crushed velvet double bed enhances the overall ambiance of your bedroom, creating a serene and inviting atmosphere. The luxurious feel of the fabric fosters a sense of indulgence, making your bedroom a sanctuary where you can escape the stresses of daily life.

The Affordable Luxury

While crushed velvet double beds exude luxury, they are surprisingly affordable, making them accessible to a wide range of homeowners. These beds offer a cost-effective way to add a touch of opulence and elegance to your bedroom without breaking the bank.

Size Variations to Suit Your Needs

Crushed velvet double beds are available in various sizes, ensuring that you can find the perfect fit for your space and sleeping preferences. Whether you need a standard double bed or a larger option like a king-size or super king-size bed, there is a size variation that suits your needs.

Factors to Consider Before Purchasing

Before investing in a crushed velvet double bed, there are a few factors to consider. These include the dimensions of your bedroom, the style and color scheme you desire, and your budget. By carefully assessing these factors, you can make an informed decision and choose a bed that fulfills your requirements.

Tips for Maintaining Your Crushed Velvet Bed

To keep your crushed velvet bed in pristine condition, follow these maintenance tips:

Regularly vacuum the fabric to remove dust and dirt particles.

Brush the fabric gently to maintain its plushness.

Address spills and stains promptly by spot cleaning with a mild detergent.

Avoid placing the bed in direct sunlight to prevent color fading.

Follow the manufacturer's care instructions for specific cleaning recommendations.

Conclusion

A crushed velvet double bed brings together luxury, comfort, and style in one elegant package. From its exquisite aesthetics to its unmatched softness and durability, this bed is a perfect addition to any bedroom. With its versatility and customization options, it effortlessly adapts to various interior decor styles, enhancing the overall ambiance of your space. Invest in a crushed velvet double bed, and transform your bedroom into a haven of comfort and opulence.

FAQs (Frequently Asked Questions)

1. Are crushed velvet double beds suitable for small bedrooms?

Yes, crushed velvet double beds come in various sizes, including options for smaller spaces. You can choose a size that fits your room dimensions.

2. Can I clean a crushed velvet double bed myself?

Yes, you can easily clean and maintain a crushed velvet double bed by following the recommended care instructions and using gentle cleaning methods.

3. Are crushed velvet beds prone to wrinkles?

Crushed velvet beds may develop

[frunishop]

The History and Evolution of Sleigh Beds

Sleigh beds are a type of bed with a distinctive curved headboard and footboard that resemble a sleigh or sled. They are typically made of wood and have a luxurious, elegant look. While sleigh beds are often associated with traditional or antique decor styles, there are many modern variations that incorporate sleeker designs and materials such as metal and leather.

The origins of the sleigh bed can be traced back to ancient Roman times when wealthy citizens would recline on couches that had curved headrests and footrests. These curved pieces were called "saccus," and they inspired the design of later sleigh beds.

In the 19th century, sleigh beds became popular in the United States and Europe as a luxurious and stylish alternative to traditional four-poster beds. The curved headboard and footboard were often adorned with intricate carvings and other decorative details, making sleigh beds a symbol of wealth and refinement.

Over time, sleigh beds have evolved to suit changing tastes and design trends. In the mid-20th century, for example, streamlined versions of sleigh beds were popularized by designers such as George Nelson and Charles and Ray Eames. These modern sleigh beds featured simple, clean lines and a minimalist aesthetic.

Today, sleigh beds continue to be a popular choice for those who want a statement piece for their bedroom. They are available in a wide variety of styles and materials, from classic wooden designs to more contemporary metal and leather versions. Many sleigh beds also feature practical features such as built-in storage or adjustable headboards. In conclusion, sleigh bed have a long and fascinating history that spans many centuries and cultures. While they have evolved over time to suit changing tastes and design trends, they remain a timeless and elegant choice for anyone looking to add a touch of luxury to their bedroom.

[lovekendri]

spoil me | sebastian sallow

sebastian sallow x fem!reader

summary: after a long night in the common room, snuggling with sebastian turns into a bit more unholy activity.

cw: 18+ only! aged up!seb, seventh year au, established relationship, giggly moments, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it!), pleasure dom!seb, sorta possessive!seb, very touchy!seb, size difference, dacryphilia, praise kink, dumbification(?), reader has hand obsession, marking kink if you squint

wc: 5.1k

type: ✽ & ❀

a/n: forgive me, for this is probably the filthiest thing i will ever write!

The night was growing old, and distorted, white moonlight was shining through the large windows submerged in water in the Slytherin common room. You had based your night around Sebastian and Ominis, spending hours inside of the common room alone, studying, chatting, playing games, you name it.

It was getting so late, and you were beginning to doze off. The comfortable velvet couch of the Slytherin common room mixed with mostly worn-off cologne from both Ominis and Sebastian created a homey feeling, you often associated their scents with being safe since fifth year.

"I think I'm going to go up," you finally said, opening your eyes from your most recent 'resting your eyes', turning to your boyfriend and Ominis.

"Alright, we'll meet you up there," Sebastian said, dipping his quill in the well of ink on the small coffee table in front of him. The tall brunette had actually been taking notes for once, and you took the time to admire him for a moment before he looked at you. His robes had come off several hours ago when he threw a pillow at Ominis, starting a pillow fight between the two for a few minutes. Faint outlines of his athletic build showed through his button-up, the top three buttons undone, revealing part of his broad chest. His signature brown, fluffy hair was slightly messy from running his hands through it, the curls spreading out across his head and falling in front of his face. The heat of the fireplace left a rosy tint to his cheeks, and the want for sleep had began to take over his eyes. The whites were slightly bloodshot, chocolaty irises enhanced and covered with squinted lids, plump, pink lips slightly parted with hints of exhaustion in his low breathing.

Your cheeks flushed a bright pink, taking in his whole presence as butterflies swarmed in your stomach. You hadn't seen him like this in a while, the unbuttoned shirt, no robes, parted lips. It was rare to see him like this, not because it wasn't often you two had gotten somewhat frisky every now and then, but since wherever you had decided to go in the entirety of the castle was crowded at every time of the day with enormous amounts of first and second years.

You were proud of how attractive Sebastian was, and you knew exactly how it felt to have crushes on older boys when you were a little kid.

"We'll see you up there," Ominis said, snapping you back down to reality as he turned to the sound of your voice, a small smile creeping on his lips. You cleared your throat and chirped a small 'mm-hm!' before jumping up from your plush seat on the couch and making your way to the hall that lead to the dormitories.

You heard a small chatter begin between the two, catching 'that about?', and 'weird', before a collective loud laughter, forming a rather handsome sound.

After the obnoxiously long decline of stairs, stairs, and more stairs, with a tad of more stairs and now concrete walls, you managed your way into the seventh year boy's room.

The room smelled like a mixture of several different colognes, with a hint of fresh linen and lemon, as well as a pinch of gross socks coming from the opposite side of the room from Sebastian and Ominis.

You realized quickly that you were the only person in the room.

Apparently it was common for them to be out at ungodly hours of the night.

The room was lined with five double beds, four posts surrounding each frame, lined with deep green curtains that were tied to the posts by silver rope. They could be undone for privacy, but it seemed that they hadn't been touched since the beginning of the year. Intricate designs formed along the bottom and the posts of snakes, swirls and other organic designs, coming together as a Hogwarts crest in the middle of the bed frame.

The windows had now gotten smaller since you had gone farther down underwater from the common room. They still emit a deep glow, though a bit darker than before, and instead cast a bluish gray hue across the floor and walls, a low chandelier hung in the middle of the room, candles unlit.

You decided to search the trunk next to Sebastian's bed. You had to push through multiple pairs of the same socks and underwear before you could find something of your liking, treating yourself to a rather large navy blue jumper of his. He only wore it on particularly chilly Hogsmeade trips or cold weekends around the castle.

You set it down on his bed, stripping out of your uniform and slipping on a pair of shorts you had left in his trunk, along with the jumper before climbing into his bed.

You snuggled into his covers, pulling the thick comforter up to your neck and turning to your side. The soft mattress engulfed you in a hug, cradling you as you closed your eyes, invited to a deep sleep.

It felt like you hadn't even slept for a minute when you heard the descent of your boyfriend and his loyal friend toward the dormitory, the concrete steps sounding loud echoes down the hall.

"She's probably asleep," you heard Sebastian say, the door to the room creaking open as the two walked in.

You were too snuggled into the bed to want to perk your head up and see Sebastian once more, but just the smell of him coming near you was enough to make your stomach flutter.

"Then don't wake her," Ominis scoffed. "Your footsteps are loud enough to wake a troll."

"Oh, stop it, would you?" Sebastian shot back, placing a heavy hand on the bed. You felt the mattress dip in the front as he sat on the end, your leg slipping a little underneath the covers.

"I'm not the one who's getting yelled at if she wakes up," Ominis said, the clunk of his chest closing signifying he was now changing into pyjamas.

Sebastian didn't bother to respond, closing his trunk and setting his own pyjamas on the bed. He changed quickly before sliding into the bed with you, his weight dipping the mattress toward the middle.

Of course he knew you'd be in his bed, you loved snuggling with him after a long night.

He pulled himself close, his chest meeting your back, adjusting the comforter around your neck to over your shoulder before sliding his arms around you. One strong arm glided around your waist, his hand placing itself gently between the warmth of your thighs. The other arm slid below your body and under your arm, wrapping protectively around your chest.

"Hi, pretty girl," he whispered in your ear, earning a small chirp from you as you adjusted yourself against his chest, his knee bending into the back of your leg.

Butterflies were exploding in your stomach, goosebumps forming all over as he touched you.

"You feeling okay, love?" he murmured, head curling into your neck. You lifted your head a little, leaving room for him to move in closer. His hair tickled your ear as his lips met your skin briefly, the kiss short and sweet.

"Mm-hmmm," you hummed, snuggling as far as you could go back into his body, the warmth and softness comforting. His hair smelled pleasant, a mix of cedar and green apple, the shirt he was wearing covered in a musky cologne.

His smell always drove you crazy.

"Is Ominis in here?" you mumbled, dipping your head down and turning your face slightly into the feathery pillow, his arms tightening around you to prevent you from moving away from him.

"Of course he is," he whispered back, pressing another gentle kiss to your neck. You could feel the heat of his face and the small smirk that grew on his lips. His protective, muscular arms were so comforting, the smell of his body irresistible. You relaxed into him, not noticing you were so tense.

For a moment, the only noise was the combination of Sebastian and you breathing. You could barely hear Ominis' breathing, even and calm as he was probably already asleep.

He could fall asleep in seconds if he really tried.

You were very aware of the butterflies and goose bumps Sebastian was giving you, but he often didn't have such an affect on you. You remembered his look earlier; the soft lips, unbuttoned shirt, messy hair. You wanted to turn around to him, see his beautiful face, but the strict grip he had on your body kept you in place.

You decided that there was only one way that he would let you even wriggle in his grip.

You gently rocked your hips backwards, meeting his.

You heard a small exhale escape his lips into your ear, spawning swarms of butterflies in your stomach.

You did it once more, satisfied from the first noise, but this time, the exhale had turned into a muffled grunt, his face curled into your neck and nose pressing into your jawline.

"Hold on, love," he whispered, somewhat breathless. You could feel the already growing bulge in his pants, your body throbbing, eager for his touch.

You decided to pause for a moment, but this stirred Sebastian. He took a moment and adjusted his body, rustling of sheets becoming loud in the silent room. The hand between your thighs had come alive from the warmth between them, gently pushing open your legs as one fell on top of his, the other still resting on the bed. Now lying flatter on his side, he was able to lean against the pillow beneath him, head above you.

You turned your head to look at him, the grip around your body loosened as his hand took a new resting position on the leg that met his, his fingers slowly crawling from your knee to the inside of your thigh.

The painfully slow movements of his large, skillful fingers left you wanting to cry for him, your body now afloat with seriously overwhelming butterflies and growing arousal in the pit of your stomach.

You finally looked at him, your eyes meeting the faint face of your boyfriend. In the dark light, he still had the same look he had in the common room. The pink lips, now wet with saliva, squinted eyes and even messier hair.

"You look so pretty," he whispered, his hand sliding to the inside of your thigh, mere centimeters away from your nearly dripping folds. His lips moved magically as he talked, the glint of spit coating his lips and mesmerizing eyes keeping a tight hold on yours.

Your cheeks were growing hot incredibly fast, colonies of butterflies fluttering around inside you as the heat between your legs grew incredibly larger, the obnoxious yet pathetic urge growing to take his hand and put it where you wanted it.

The look you gave him must've plead enough for him, as he leaned down and kissed you gently on the forehead.

You exhaled quietly, wanting to feel the kisses on your lips, his glimmering ones so tempting. His fingers were painfully close to the still growing heat in your shorts, and you were sure he could feel it as his fingers moved slow toward it.

Sebastian closed his eyes slowly, ducking his head down. He couldn't get full access to your neck with the way you were laying. Immediately, the arm underneath you moved swiftly, grabbing your jaw roughly and forcing it upwards, his thick fingers sprawling over your mouth as you whimpered quietly in surprise.

You hadn't seen this side of him in forever, his movements were surely going to cause a full explosion of butterflies into the dimly moonlit room.

His teeth, lips, and tongue were now skillfully working away at your neck, small bites and deep exhales engraving themselves into your skin, every breath and touch of his lips sending more electrifying heat down to your core.

At the same time, his fingers met your pleading heat over your shorts. He must've decided that through your shorts, he wouldn't have much of a reaction. His thick fingers crept up your silky briefs, pushing past the hem and back down to your core. Painfully slow. You heard a faint exhale of pride at the overwhelming warmth he had felt, and an evil smirk crept onto his face, the only telltale by the way his lips curved into his next kiss.

He began to rub his fingers across your sensitive clit, your hips bucking into his hand at the first circle he made. The tight grip on your jaw and hip didn't let you go far, small, filthy whines leaving your throat through his fingers as he drew circles through your thin panties.

His head trailed up from your neck for a second, hair tickling the tip of your ear as he spoke gently, his voice a low whisper.

"You sound so pretty, whining for me like a good girl."

A small sound of happiness escaped your throat, as much as you could muster, because if you spoke, Ominis—though dead asleep—would definitely hear what Sebastian was doing to you.

His words blossomed pleasant heat in the pit of your stomach, hips bucking shamelessly into his hand as his fingers continued to work your clit.

Moving so slow with everything he did, head ducking back down to nibble on your neck, horribly slow fingers that circled your clit—oh, so well—but too slow to let the heat blossom, tight hold on your jaw that muffled the pretty sounds that forced their way through your throat.

It was too much, too slow, and too good all at the same time.

Tears began to form in the corner of your eyes, your hips bucking against his hand for more as you whined lowly, begging for Sebastian to help you, to move faster in his mastered movements. You needed his touch, you needed the surreal escape of the orgasm he could bring you to.

"Aw," he whispered, lips painfully close to your ear. "Are you desperate, pretty girl?" His fingers stopped altogether, a frustrated whine pushing past your stifled lips.

"Gonna cry for me?" he teased, his lips directly against your ear now, pride and arrogance creeping past his sweetly soft charisma. Surely the fact that you were entranced in his touch.

You viciously shook your head no, fighting the hand on your jaw as tears began to fill your eyes, threatening to fall on his large hand at any moment.

"C'mon, cry for me, sweetheart," he said, a small moan escaping into your ear. Pleasure immediately shot down to your core, the sound of his arousal delightful. "You know where crying gets you, love."

Your vision was now entirely blurry, not that there was much to see in the room anyways. Butterflies and arousal exploding to a point of pain mixed with the intense feel of his fingers stilled on your clit was too much to bear, tears beginning to fall out of frustration. Your body was practically begging for him to work you toward the orgasm that you craved from him.

"Please, Seb," you whined quietly—still louder than intended—starting to not care how loud you were. You needed him to make you feel good, you needed him to touch you. "Please."

Pathetic whimpers fell out of your mouth like expletives when you stubbed your toe, begging and pleading for Sebastian to touch you, tears flooding out of your eyes and dripping onto his warm hands.

"You're such a good girl," he murmured, hot breath against your ear as he started his fingers once again, drawing smaller, faster circles around your clit.

"Make some noise for me, come on, baby."

"Ominis—" you barely murmured, too caught up in pleasure to fully annunciate your words and thoughts.

"Are you worried that he's hearing your pretty little whines?" Sebastian whispered, deep voice teasing in your ear.

You didn't nod, but you also didn't shake your head. You just threw it back into his chest, stifling a whimper into his hand.

"Don't be shy, I'm sure he wouldn't mind," he pushed, practically begging without showing a weakness for the need to hear you.

A pant of pleasure and excitement at his words sounded in your stomach. The idea of Ominis listening to Sebastian make you a mess was weirdly erotic, beginning to imagine the tall blonde companion of Sebastian's listening to you sob for Sebastian before you stopped yourself.

You finally gave into Sebastian's coaxing, moans and pleads and whines fell slightly muffled to his hand. The more you'd helplessly buck your hips into his large hand, you'd coax soft, low, delighted groans out of him.

You were getting close, begging for him to let you finish, barely caring how loud you were getting.

The only thing that mattered was how good he made you feel.

When the heat began to build in the pit of your stomach, you stopped bucking your hips for friction, your hand coming up and grabbing at the wrist of the hand that covered your mouth. Your pathetic, high pitched moans forcing their way out, yet entirely muffled by his unmoving, large hand.

Suddenly, his fingers began to move at a snail's pace.

You whined in frustration, your hips bucking once again into his hand.

"Shh, pretty girl," he whispered. His head was leaving small love bites on the front of your neck, his hair brushing against your lips and chest. "You don't want to wake Ominis, do you?"

"Please, Sebastian, I need it," you sighed, leaning your head back into the soft pillow, the swarms of butterflies beginning to flutter around in your stomach once more, replacing the heat of your lessening orgasm.

"Need what, little dove?"

You didn't respond, too focused on trying to will yourself to an orgasm with the unbelievably slow movements of his fingers.

"What do you need?" he asked once more, the tone in his voice slightly more demanding, but never to be any less than soft with you. His fingers near stuttered to a stop as he lifted his head.

You'd seen him now for the first time since he forced your legs open, and Merlin did he look good.

His hair was an even bigger mess than before, dark curls falling over his forehead and in front of his eyes. Pale moonlight cast over his face, illuminating his sharp features and saliva slicked lips. His eyes had a fucked-out, lust filled look as he watched you squirming for pleasure underneath him, deep brown eyes searching your face in a frantic calm of dominance over you.

He whispered something under his breath that you didn't catch, but didn't bother to clarify as his fingers dawned once more, quickly pulling you into the heat of the orgasm you had been chasing.

Soft concentration grew on his face as you watched his features through heavy lidded eyes, bucking your hips into his hand once more as you reached the edge, one last circle pushing you over the cliff of your orgasm.

White hot heat shot through your body, your back arching into his arms from the satisfaction his fingers finally gifted you. Whines and whimpers slipped through your lips as you pressed your jaw deep into Sebastian's hand to muffle the great unholy sounds leaving your body, the butterflies reappearing to replace the ecstasy of the feeling bringing you back to the moment. Sebastian's eyes cast dark, lustful looks down to you as you reached your hand up once more, gently removing the heavy weight over your lips onto your sternum.

"Feel good, love?" Sebastian cooed, an amused smile creeping on his face as he leaned down to kiss you, moving his head from the angle it was at, half of his body weight landing on your side.

You nodded, leaning into his kiss and wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to keep him on top of you.

Letting go of him would be a tragedy, you wanted to keep this moment forever.

"You know, you sound so pretty when you come for me," he whispered, a trickle of pride slipping through his praising tone as he straddled your hips, hovering above you to not crush you as the covers slipped off of his wide back.

You giggled softly, admiring his stupid pretty face so close to yours, landing a small kiss on his lips once more. Kissing him was addictive, you loved feeling his plump lips press against yours.

His full arms created a cage around you, resting on his elbows as he looked down at you. The lustful look in his eyes hadn't left, the idea of him still wanting to do more to you despite your slightly shaking body was somehow ideal yet entirely outrageous, considering you were still stuck on the relief of his experienced fingers from the first time.

"Stop eye-fucking me," he mumbled, a small smile growing on his face as one arm moved from the enclosure around you, sliding down your waist to your shorts.

"Seb," you giggled quietly, "I would never."

"I'm sure you wouldn't," he chuckled, fingers messing with the combined hem of your shorts and his sweater. He paused, tilting his head and looking at you.

"Is this mine?" he asked, tugging on the sweater.

You giggled again, pushing his hand away playfully as you tried to lift your legs up, banging into his hefty thigh and putting it back down.

"No wonder you smell good," he joked, dipping his head into your neck. He licked your neck slightly before nibbling on the tense spot, lifting your head for more access, and both hands sliding down your body to your legs.

He began to tug on your shorts, your silk panties coming along with them. Not bothering to separate the two before he slid off your briefs, you were left completely naked in front of him, teeth nibbling at your neck on what felt like thousands of different places. He knew that they had both come off, and a smirk brushed against your neck.

You were sure you'd have countless bruises in the morning, covering the entire span of your neck from his addiction to kissing and marking you. Though it wouldn't be the first time, it was quite embarrassing to have to explain to most of his friends if they cornered you.

He gently moved your legs from between his, spreading them slowly. Placing his warm hands on your inner thighs, he pushed them toward the bed to keep them in place.

You weren't expecting a second round, and most definitely didn't expect him to do such risky things with other people that may come in soon, but he knew better than you, and honestly you wouldn't care too much since his roommates knew he could pull.

His hair was ticklish against all parts it grazed, his hands moving off of your thighs and a thick torso replacing them, your body now held down with the weight of Sebastian himself. He glided icy fingertips across expanses of your skin, slipping under his sweater that covered you like a blanket.

His tongue massaged your neck once more before he lifted himself up, watching you intently. He paused for a moment before swiftly pulling his shirt over his head, revealing toned outlines of his body before he pulled down the front of his pants.

He wore black boxers that you often saw peeking out from his pants, and he preferred to wear them because they 'concealed better', which you both knew wasn't true. His v-line became more prominent as you watched him slide the waistband of his pyjamas farther down, thumb teasing on the elastic of his boxers.

He knew acting like this had you entranced, watching like a hawk as a knowing grin grew on his face.

Your body was practically soaring with butterflies watching him undress. It was like your own little show, seeing his beautiful body be revealed from the disgraceful amount of layers you were forced to wear everyday.

Here you were, laying spread eagle on your boyfriend's school-assigned bed when someone could walk in at any minute, watching him undress for you like a strip-tease show. The reality of it all was quite funny, but in the moment, it was absolutely mesmerizing to know his confidence.

When Sebastian had enough of teasing you, he finally slipped his elastic off, staring directly at you.

His dick sprung against his stomach, the pink tip and noticeable veins still distinguishable in the moonlight. It was decently long, but the girth of it was the better factor, it usually stretched you out a decent amount despite how aroused you were.

He pumped himself a few times, the tip crying precum as he leaned over toward you again. He encased you once more in a prison of his arms, kissing you lightly.

You didn't have to speak a word before his arm wrapped underneath your neck, hand covering your mouth as he pushed inside of you. You gasped—an obviously good choice to cover your mouth—feeling as his dick stretched every inch of you. You hadn't quite become accustomed to his size, the feeling of your walls stretching pricking your eyes with tears.

"You take me so good," he drawled, his head hanging as he exhaled roughly, about halfway inside of you. "Fuck."

Your body was full of the mix of arousal and butterflies for the millionth time that night, Sebastian's heavy breathing in your ear adding the cherry on top. He pushed himself all the way in, earning a soft exhale from you and a sigh of happiness from himself.

He allowed you to adjust to his size, before he snapped his hips into you for the first time.

Burning of arousal and unspeakable feelings swirling in your stomach at the first thrust was almost enough to work you to the edge already.

His hands roamed around your stomach underneath his jumper as he began a steady rock of his hips into you, careful as to not make a slapping noise every time he collided with your hips. His head was hung in front of you, the back of his head in your face as he concentrated on your love-bit neck, sometimes diving for another kiss as he maintained his pace.

Small whimpers slipped from your throat as he trailed light fingers across your body, the nip of his teeth at your neck mixing with the now falling tears beginning to overwhelm you.

It was odd how he knew so well to work you just the way you liked it, his touch familiar yet unfamiliar enough to still cause the pleads he loved so well, his fingers that worked you till you cried just for him.

The combination of everything you were feeling and the slow paced thrusts of your boyfriend was almost like a dream, your head was almost floating with pleasure, your brain starting to focus on only him.

"How's my pretty little girl feeling, hm?" Sebastian cooed, large fingers spreading over your stomach. You sucked in a breath at the touch, weakly moaning into the palm of his hand. His hand came up to your unoccupied cheek, stroking it with his thumb.

He smiled when he noticed the wet streaks on your face, watching as a growing dazed look in your eyes appeared. You were smiling dumbly, full of ecstasy, the entire world seemingly only of him. His touches were amplified to you, every one sending some sort of shock to your body and adding to the pool of heat gathering in your stomach.

"You're so dazed, baby," he whispered, head lifting to reveal a large grin, his hips picking up pace more. You whined into his hand once more, eyes rolling back as tears fell from your eyes more, the overwhelming sensation of everything he was doing to you coming together. "Yeah? Does that feel good, princess?"

You were a complete and total mess, expletives falling out of your mouth left and right as you whined and whimpered for him, quiet sobs escaping your throat as pleasure flooded your body, the world only focused on Sebastian.

"You're so fucking pretty," he groaned, repeatedly hitting a spot that felt just right, pushing you to the brink of your orgasm. His hips were practically snapping now, controlled thrusts as to not make a loud noise to wake Ominis, but hard enough to get you crying and moaning.

"Look at you, fuck," he praised. "You look so perfect under me, taking me like a good girl."

The feelings he was awakening inside you with praise and the snap of his hips as he fucked you just right were unfathomable, turning into both pleasure and pain. You were right there, watching him through watery and unfocused eyes as he pounded into you, deep moans and grunts falling from his lips every time he pushed back into you.

"C'mon, darling," he whispered, thumb caressing your cheek once more. "You can do it."

Everything mixed with absolutely everything else was enough, the way he pounded into you, his fingers and his touch, the tickling of his hair as his head hung, the moans escaping Sebastian's throat, everything. He had pushed you over the edge, your back arching and a strangled, sobby moan leaving your throat as you came, walls clenching harshly around his cock as his hips stuttered to a stop inside of you.

You grabbed for his head, wrapping your arms around his neck as you tugged him down to your chest, practically hugging his face into it.

Once you had lowered your back from the aggressive arch, he lifted his head from your chest and fell to the side of you.

"God, I love you," he murmured, pulling you into his broad chest and stroking your hair.

"What about you?" you asked when you had finally come down from your high, the sound of heavy breathing filling the room.

"About me?" he asked.

"You didn't—ya know. Did you?" you replied, somehow too nervous to say the word when he had just fucked the senses out of you.

"Don't worry about that, love," he said, placing his head on your shoulder.

"Fine then, I love you too," you shot back, wrapping your arms around him to the best of your ability.

Something in the back of your mind told you that at least someone had heard, but since no applause came, you decided to close your eyes as Sebastian lifted the covers over the both of you strapped into each other's arms, snuggling deep into your body for the rest of the night.

main masterlist | my profile | hp masterlist | request | proof-read: ✓

[btslil-bbyboy]

Charlie and Vaggie

This is a male reader insert! Charlie and Vaggie become parents This would be before the pilot, so there isn't any other characters beside them. Hope you like it! I was also wondering if I should make one for the Vees. All three of them handling a toddler is a cute image in my head idk what do you guys think? If so, how should proceed it? Should Velvet be the biological mother or should I do a Baby Daddy on Vox lol

Pilot Part 1 Episode 1

It was time. It was time for the baby to come! And Vaggie was not ready for it but she isn't going to show it because if she does then who's going to calm down Charlie who's running around the empty, trashy hotel for a warm bucket of water that they will need for this specific moment.

Vaggie bites down a pained groan as the contractions start to double the amount and pain.

"Shit." She slowly breathes out. Running a hand through her hair that grew longer over the past months with the pregnancy.

"Ok! I got the water. Now where are my gloves? Are these the clean towels that we recently washed? Omg, did we buy enough diapers!?-" Charlie starts to grip her hair as her horns start to protrude from her head.

"Charlie, babe. We have everything here. We double checked and got more supplies after we thought we'll be in lock down for at least two months. Now, can you calm down and please hold my hand?" Vaggie interrupts Charlie's rambling as it would lead to a panic attack. Usually, Vaggie would calm her down with sweet words and gentle touches but right now, the pain she is feeling can't make her focus on anything but the pain.

"Right! Sorry. How are you doing Vaggie? Need water?" Charlie kneels on the bed, taking a hold of the woman she loves dearly. When they first met, Charlie thought it was love at first sight. They both gave hints such as fleeting touches and lingering eyes until it turned more intimate that they got together. It was magical really.

Until they hit their five months into their relationship, Vaggie started to act differently. Vomiting in the morning, craving weird things (Charlie didn't point out because she loves Vaggie too much to judge her) and sleeping a lot. They both brushed it off until Vaggie mentioned how her stomach is getting bigger. Which also took them a little bit longer to notice but they got there.

Charlie of course told her dad, well not told him per-say but a small comment about how to prepare for a baby and such which her father answered awkwardly and fast paced as she's sure she guessed he didn't want to talk about this kind of stuff to his daughter that he hasn't seen for a few years now. And she's pretty sure he forgot all about it the next phone call he made as he asks for Charlie to check on how many sinners died in the last extermination.

But all in all, Lucifer hasn't connected the dots and now Charlie is here alone, taking care of Vaggie and ready to secure the baby once it's fully out. She is so fucking happy! She's going to make this Happy Hotel a family business! Just the three of them.

"I don't want to alarm but I think the baby is coming out right now." Vaggie huffs out gripping on Charlie's hand with all her might as her body pushes.

"Oh god, ok! Just keep pushing. I have everything ready, sweetheart. You're doing great!" Charlie wheezes out the last bit as her hand gets crushed. Shaking the pain off, Charlie drags a towel over, ready.

It took at least an hour of Vaggie screaming in pain and profanities that finally, Charlie places their child down in Vaggie's arms.

"It's a boy." Charlie whispers excitedly, doing a little happy wiggle as she looks at her girlfriend and son together.

Vaggie smiles tiredly, muttering out a 'Never again.' Which Charlie volunteers to be the next one to get pregnant.

"You know what name I'm thinking?" Vaggie mutters out as she hands the baby boy that has her grey skin but the two red dots on his face along with blonde hair that he got has Charlie written all over it. Charlie snaps out of her awe trance at the baby, looking at Vaggie with a big smile.

"(M/n)." They both said at the same time, leaning on each other as they looked at their son.

[lgwifey]

Homesick Part Two

“Good enough for London”

human!Fem!reader x platonic!EdwardCullen

summary : Y/n’s dad had been given a new job offer, meaning she had to drag herself half way across the world to a town that shame was positive rained more than London had.

Part One

Y/n woke up the next day at 6:30 am, determined to beat jet lag and also needing to prepare for waking up early again in a few days when the schools started up.

Today's jobs where a bit easier than yesterdays, having her little schedule wrote up that's she'd scribbled down and then rewrote out pretty on the plane. She was already ahead of yesterday, having only thought she would have enough time to make her bed. Luckily the flat pack furniture was a bit easier than she expected it to be.

She started the day by unpacking the parcels of bedding that she'd ordered to the house before they'd moved over. She'd opened the duvet, pillows and mattress topper last night and left them to air out overnight to save half the day today being wasted.

Her light pink, crushed velvet ottoman bed sat just slightly not on the wall, a small bedside table sat between in and the bedroom wall, a medium sized window starting at the end of the bed. Y/n would be the first to mention her lack of strength, which meant the first job of dragging the double mattress topper onto the bed took longer than it would've for most. She dragged on a black satin bedsheet before standing on the bed with the duvet and the dark red cover, using all her height to try and make the process easier.

Soon enough the teenager managed to wrangle the bed all together, folding the spare sets of bedding and dropping them to the corner of one of the ottoman draws.

Black satin pillows were thrown at the headboard of the bed, then the blood red duvet and then a bundle of cushions that Y/n usually ended up kicking off the bed before she slept anyway. The whole bed was pulled together with a leopard print throw blanket that matched her large leopard print fuzzy rug which her dad had  picked up from a store in Seattle for her before she arrived.

The only furniture left to put together was the eight-ball beanbags she'd bought.

Once she'd admitted defeat and accepted that she was being moved to Forks Washington whether she liked it or not, she'd decided she was going to go all out on her bedroom and outfits. Plus, her parents felt horrible for moving her so she'd managed to get a few bonuses.

Kicking the leather beanbags into a corner, Y/n moved into the cardboard boxes for her home in London. She'd been convinced to get rid of most of her possessions by her mother. The words "you can always just buy new things when we get there" were going to be burned into her brain for a very long time.

The two boxes were carefully wiped of dust and unsealed with the scissors she'd left on her desk from yesterday.

It was just a few nicknacks, she didn't hold attachments to many things so the little she kept from England were carefully placed on the empty bookshelf in the corner. A few rolled up posters, a few book collections that her grandmother had gave her before the move, a few ornaments that she'd had from a baby and a few she'd found in charity shops and her prized CD collection and player.

It was quite a quick job, well it would've been if she didn't get distracted by the ornamental bells that she was organising for a solid twenty minutes.

After leaving her landline, a dark red lip phone, on her desk as a reminder to get her father to set it up when he got back from work, Y/n realised that if she wanted to get into some public appropriate clothes and do her makeup to go food shopping, she'd need to start unpacking her suitcases.

She let out a huff before flipping backwards onto her bed, the fresh covers crumbling around her tired body.

Her LED digital clock sat on her wall beside her bed, reading a miserable 11:46. Her friends wouldn't even be awake for at least another 4 hours.

Once again, she pushed herself to the large, hot pink suitcases that had been left behind her door when she arrived.

☆

When Harriet Grey went to go and check on her daughter in the morning, well nearly afternoon, she expected to find her daughter dying from jet lag like her, face still buried in her pillows and room still looking uninhabited.

Instead she found the girl with her face passed out in a half unpack suitcase.

The pyjama clad woman slowly shuffled over to where Y/n was sprawled up. Most of her wardrobe had been hung on hangers and place in the small walk-in wardrobe built into the bedroom. Her vanity had been organised with all her makeup, some of the draws left opening for Harriet to peek into.

"Y/n? Sweetie?"

Harriet had started to think that Y/n had suffocated on the socks her face had landed on, starting to leave to call an ambulance when she caught the crack caused by her daughter stretching her hand.

☆

"You don't think it's all... too much ?"

Y/n looked up from the zips on her pointed, heeled boots to where her mother stood with a worried expression plastered on her features.

"If it was good enough for London then it's good enough for this crummy little town."

The younger girl scrunched her features up as she finished zipping the boots that finished just before her knees, pressing down the fabric of the black micro mini dress as she stood up from the step she was balancing on.

"Well, the populations quite a lot smaller than London here Y/n."

She was met with a blank expression from her daughter, the girl flicking her hair over her shoulders as she shifted the leather blazer over her shoulders, moving to check her mobile was in her cherry red purse before they left the house for the food shop they desperately needed.

"That means that people talk. A lot."

"Mother. If everyone was scared of people talking about them Vivienne Westwood wouldn't have made it out of Chelsea. Now let's go shopping, last nights pizza was the start of a health kick for me."

The girl gagged slightly, forgetting how awful she felt after the grease dish, forced an end to the conversation with a dramatic hand clap, leaving the large and empty house to the driveway where her mother's shiny new Mercedes sat.

Behind her followed her mother, a tut and an eye roll as the older woman locked the double doors to the large, white panelled house. A bright flash of the lights told Y/n that the car was unlocked, leaving her to pull the passenger side door open and slide into the immaculate interior.

The drive to the grocery shop was much longer than Y/n had expecting.

"Another reason we should've stayed in England, everything's less spread out."

"Everything's more compact in London, the distance between places here is just a bit refreshing. You've got some lovely views here, and less air pollution. I know you value that."

The teenager rolled her eyes, slouching back into the seat more. "I also value my shoes and if I were to walk this distance their soles would be completely worn out."

Harriet bit her lip, a nervous habit she'd developed since she had to start convincing her daughter that the move was a good idea a year ago. "Did you know you can learn how to drive earlier here ?"

"I already know how to drive, dad taught me so I could pass as soon as I turn 17."

"Well then you can sit it as soon as me and your father find a driving teacher ."

The pale blonde woman gave a tight lipped smile, turning her head to focus back on the empty stretch of road.

"Yeah dad's already done that. I've got a test on Sunday so I can pass before school starts, it's way easier than the UK one too."

"Gave much thought to what car you want ? It seems like everyone here has trucks."

Y/n held back a snort at her mother's face at the mention of the popular vehicle around here. It was quite obvious that she didn't want a big pick up sat outside her new home.

"I was actually thinking about the new Audi a4 convertibles. Kate's sister got a silver one last year but they're bringing a red one out."

Harriet caught the begging stare that the miniature self was giving her in the corner of her eye. A unnoticed breath left her at the relief of not having a box with wheels next to her prized Mercedes .

"I'm sure your father could manage that one."

Part Three

Masterlist

[nefkyo]

Writing In The Sand

a c!TNTduo/quackbur fic (and my first official fanfic ever) where c!Wilbur meets c!Quackity before the ending of their S1 lore, but things don't go according to plan. At all.

I don't know how tagging works, but this fic contains:

Spoilers for c!Quackity's an c!Wilbur lore finale, mentions of alcohol, hungover antics, miscommunication?, I don't have it in me to write smut rn but there is pre-marital kissing, fluff but also angst, I'm still not sure if I want a sad or happy ending so don't count on it, a single mention of c!Tommy's lore and overall a lot of flashbacks

Chapter 1 (1/?)

Wilbur stirs awake, head bobbed to the side, horrible weights crushing the sides of his temples. He shifts onto a bed that is too luscious to recognize as his own. The velvet blankets underneath him are too light to be the ones you'd use in a warm house in the middle of the snow.

He didn't go home. He stayed. Fuck.

He sits up on his elbows and pinches his eyebrows, and realizes his glasses are missing. He snaps his head around, feeling the bedsheets in the relative darkness. The only light seems to be coming from curtains that were left a single clumsy ray of light filter in the room. Which was huge. As was the bed. And the window. Fuuuuck.

His fingers wrapped around something new. They were definitely not his glasses. It was something light and nimble, soft but not as much as the stuffing of a pillow, and it seemed to move on its own. Whatever it was attached to also shifted and made an almost human noise that resembled a grumble of discomfort, and Wilbur realized he was holding Quackity's tail. And his other hand was resting clumsily on a wing.

Quackity. Quackity was sleeping next to him.

FFFUUUUUUUCK.

He basically leapt off the bed. His heart and his brain were running two, maybe three marathons at once. What his he doing there? What is he doing here? And what now, should he wake him up? No, he couldn't. Not yet, at least. For some reason, he felt he needed to see him first. Was it out of spite? Out of pride? ...Affection?

Flashes of images from the night before were already seeping in. Sand being strangely cold in his fist. A pile of empty glasses, ice melting slowly inside. Elaborate drinks and straight vodka. Quackity's eyes glinting up at him before both tastes blend in his mouth.

As he staggered towards the drawn curtains, he bumped into his own shoes. He also realized the lower half of his body was still clothed, socks included. He checked his pockets and sure enough, his glasses were tucked in there, miraculously intact. He opened the temple tips and placed them on his head.

He peeked out behind the curtain. He wasn't afraid of heights, his father basically uprooted the fear out of him, but holy shit they were high up. He could see all of Las Nevadas from there. The sky over the sandy hills and still dormant city was grey. It must've been midday already.

From the window, he spots the lavish bar he found Quackity in some ridiculous time at night. He hadn't drank anything yet, just kept picking at a plate of olives with a toothpick. Which he threatened him with as he sat down two seats away from him.

He turned around, hand slowly pulling back the curtain just enough. And he looked out in awe.

Quackity was barely more dressed than him, resting on his side. His right arm was drooped over his head, on which he was shocked not to find the infamous beanie. He spotted it on the floor, right below his flabby left hand. And his wings, oh my god, his wings were splayed out, hanging with some sort of grace over his body. It almost seemed his left wing was shielding him from the light like a veil of protection.

He now remembers the dancing. They were enough drinks and chatter in that Quackity had stopped holding everything like it could double as a weapon, and had decided to take him to the lounges a few steps from the bar, holding a bottle of gin and two glasses in the same hand. The whole place was empty except for the two of them, and they sat on these velvet couches next to a jukebox. "You want to pick something? Go ahead." Quackity asked him, sat on the couch in front of him. "Hm, I dunno." he replied, realizing he'd been staring at it. "It feels kind of weird to look at music discs that hold no meaning for the first time in a while, doesn't it?" he chuckled, and strangely enough, Quackity did as well. He stood up and picked a disc himself. He doesn't remember what the song was, maybe he was more focused on watching Quackity miraculously untense. It was gradual enough you couldn't tell he was very into it at first, but at some point he just let loose. It reminded him of Niki's birthday party, except there was no party to entertain. It was just the two of them. He remembers Quackity pulling him in to dance as well, and the song shifting to something softer that brought his hands to his waist, and Quackity's on his shoulders. It was intimate. It was pretty.

Wilbur snapped out of it, realizing he might've woken up if he kept shining light on him. A thought he hoped his hungover mind would've repressed for just one more minute. "Today is the day." he whispered to himself. He sighed and let go of the curtain.

Guided by what he had memorized of his surroundings he came across his sweater, discarded carelessly on a chair, then his shirt at the foot of the bed. Both reeked of alcohol, but so did he, and it's not like he knew his way around wherever he was enough to find a washing machine. He did, however, find the bathroom.

He squinted his eyes at the flash of the light above, and barely cared to notice how immaculate the whole place was. He held onto the marble bowl of the sink with both hands and looked in the mirror: saying he looked more dead than he already was would've been an understatement. He washed himself up as best as he could and drank so, so much tap water.

As he was about to close the door, he noticed a 'Do Not Disturb' sign hanging on the doorknob. He looked up and noticed a golden plate with the number 801. He was in the hotel! And it was as expensive as it looked from the outside, judging by the tidiness and faint smell of cologne permeating the hall. Wilbur prayed he had any money left in his coat, wherever he'd lost it, and also to find a spare key downstairs when the door ungracefully slipped out of his grip and locked him out. (Quackity definitely had the original somewhere on his person, but the chances of waking him up were too high.)

He took the elevator down to the ground floor ("holy shit, it goes up to 17?!") and reached an immense reception. Initially, he was surprised to see people already awake, until he noticed they were all employees. All smiling, dressed in pristine uniforms, carrying serviette trays, luggage and cleaning products. Not an actual customer in sight. It only came to him as he was reaching the front desk that he was also the only human in sight. Behind the desk was something green and slick, shaped like a man with a wide smile, who immediately met his eyes and greeted him with a half-screamed "Good afternoon, Wilbur Soot from L'Manberg!", almost giving him a heart attack.

Now he remembers why he was never the one to order anything at the bar. Because the bartender - who looked exactly like the receptionist, by the way - was a tall slimey abomination who only responded to Quackity's requests. When he asked about it, Quackity said something about "an experiment" and being short on staff. And people in Las Nevadas in general. He does remember Quackity drunkenly telling one "And start listening to the customers too, goddamn it! He's been here this whole time and I had to order and do everything for both!"

"Y-Yes, uhm, good afternoon." Wilbur answered, clearing his throat as he glanced up at the huge metal clock. Sure enough, it was 12:39 PM. "Lunch will be served in approximately 21 minutes, Mr. Soot." the receptionist said without even looking at the clock. "N-no... That's not what I was looking for..." "Well, what can we do for you, Mr. Soot?" he responded without missing a beat. Wilbur placed his hands on the mahogany counter, which he could almost see his own reflection in, and tentatively asked "See, I seem to have lost my coat somewhere... It's a brown--" "Ah! Not to worry Mr. Soot, it's right here!" the receptionist exclaimed again. And without ever breaking eye contact, he reached in a compartment underneath the counter and pulled out his jacket, neatly folded inside a plastic wrapping and, even more surprisingly, clean. "You dropped it as you and Quackity from Las Nevadas were making your way up the stairs!"

"We took the stairs?" he asked mindlessly as he discretely checked his coat's pockets (no, not a sign of cash).

"Sure did! As you came in last night, you said you needed to steady your legs because you couldn't feel them, so Mr Quackity from Las Nevadas helped you walk until you reached the 3rd floor, where you shouted 'I am NOT walking up 7 more bloody flights of stairs, Big Q!' and finally took the elevator!"

Wilbur didn't know if he was cringing at the receptionist's horrible impression of a British accent or his retelling of his drunk antics. "...Right, uhm... So, I also came down to ask--" "Would you like some water and aspirins? Still on Mr. Quackity's tab, not to worry!" the man whispered with a ridiculously forced wink, probably an attempt to be friendly. So he's paying for everything and NOTHING, since he owns the place. Wilbur nodded, and as the receptionist finally broke eye contact with him to reach into the mini fridge behind him, he asked "Do you also have, uhm... A spare room key?" and watched in horror as the receptionist completely turned his head to face him like an owl. "Of course! Room 801, was it? I have it right here!"

After the nearly traumatic experience at the reception, Wilbur rushed back to the room and opened the door carefully. More light was seeping into the room by the minute. Quackity was now sleeping on his back, almost completely splayed on the bed. Again, Wilbur had to tell himself to focus. He poured himself a glass of water with an aspirin from the expensive bottle, then placed another with the same fizzling medicine on Quackity's nightstand. He scavenged for the man's missing clothing pieces and folded them as best as he could, sometimes looking back at him. He didn't have much time, but he still decided to leave a note. He consistently cursed himself under his breath as he struggled to write coherent sentences on the back of a hotel visiting card. He settled on the message and put it against the glass.

Alright, time to go.

He glanced down at Quackity. His relaxed face, with his lips slightly ajar. And his hair, a complete mess. He remembers running his hands through it. Very silky.

Start moving. You have to go.

And a vision came to him, of how they helped unbutton each other's shirts and traced lines over the scars and stitches. And how how beautiful it was that someone who had just as much history on his body knew exactly how to touch them, caress them, kiss them. And--

He wouldn't want you to stay anyway.

Someone knocked at the door. Wilbur rushed to open it, and sure enough, it was another one of those slimy things, this time in a ridiculous maid outfit. "Good afternoon, Wilbur Soot from L'Manberg! I am here to clean the room!" the maid announced way too loudly, and Wilbur shushed it. "Mr Quackity is still sleeping. Let him wake up on his own." he whispered, and the maid simply answered "Okay Mr Soot." with a surprisingly soft voice. Wilbur closed the door behind them slowly. Knowing he had no reason to open it again left a bitter taste in his mouth. The maid asked "Where are you going by yourself, Mr Soot?", to which he simply responded "Home" before disappearing down the stairs.

[honeyynymphh]

| there’s total depravity (standing right in front of me) |

(Dark)Papa IV x FemReader rating: E word count: 4.8k warnings: dom/sub, dubcon, master/servant, humiliation, degradation, abuse of authority, light sadism/masochism, orgasm denial, Copia is Not Nice, google translated italiano. please see ao3 for full list

As a maid, I tended to pass by unnoticed. Nobody really cared who made their beds or cleaned their clothes—as long as it was done. And I should have just done my job and left. But I didn't. And now I was stuck here at the mercy of the Fourth.

read on A03

Please do not read this if you do not like dark Copia, he is not nice.

------------------------ The rooms in the west wing of the abbey were all decadent. The library, the chapterhouse, and the offices for all the senior clergy members. But the Papal suites were the most ornate and lavish. I fumbled with the large keys Sister Imperator had given me while I tried to balance the basket of fresh linen I was trying to hold under my other arm. I had only ever been in the previous Papa’s suite once, and that had been to help one of the senior maids, Gabriella, clean up after a particularly lavish celebration held by Emeritus the Third in his rooms because her usual assistant had been too busy elsewhere.

I finally managed to enter the room, the large wooden door closing with a soft click behind me. Unlike the previous Papa, the Fourth’s room was mostly tidy. There were a few errant stacks of books, empty bottles of wine and the stubbed-out ends of cigars in an ashtray. But apart from that, the room was clean. The Third’s room had taken me and Gabriella hours to tidy and clean—something Gabriella had assured me was perfectly normal for the Third. That man had somehow managed to get underwear on the chandelier and what appeared to be whipped cream on the high gilded ceilings. There had been multitudes of empty bottles, used glasses and crushed rose petals scattered everywhere.

All I had to do was neaten up the room, change the sheets and towels, and I would be done. It made me smile knowing I wasn't going to be on my hands and knees scrubbing tiles. I would then be free for the rest of the evening to do as I pleased. I placed the basket on a nearby table and slowly moved around the large space. Each papal suite comprised a sitting room, a small study and a bedroom with a large ensuite. I walked towards the bedroom, pushing the double doors open. The room was similar to the sitting area with its lack of mess, rumpled sheets and half-drawn drapes were the only evidence someone had been in here. I pulled the drapes all the way back, though the sun was already disappearing to the horizon in the distance, and tied them carefully. I pushed some errant strands of hair that had escaped my pins out of my face and turned to the large bed. The dark blue velvet that hung from the four-poster shimmered under the setting rays of the sun. Gabriella had told me most of the Papal suites had very few lamps as they were so old that they had barely any fittings for electric light. They were mostly lit by the high chandeliers and candelabras. She had told me the only suite that had proper electric lighting was the First because he kept a few prized plants in his rooms and they required special lamps.

While it made the rooms difficult to clean without proper lighting, I couldn’t deny how beautiful they were. All of the Papal suites were fitted with antique furniture and upholstered with exquisite fabrics in their own colour. The royal blues and gleaming teals of this room were so calm and inviting. The ocean hues melted with the gold filigree detailing and made me long for the sea. As I approached, I let my fingers trail over the silk sheets. The material was so soft and cool against my fingertips that I couldn’t help but grab a fist full of it and bring it to my cheek. It wasn’t that the rooms provided by the clergy in the south wing for the serving staff were terrible—they were very comfortable—but the worn and warm cotton on my bed paled in comparison to this luxury. I had never known anything so fine in my life.

But it had been a mistake to bring it to my face. The soft slide of silk was divine against my cheek but it was nothing compared to the smell. I was already turning my face and pressing my nose into it to inhale deeply. It smelt like the church after they had concluded their midnight mass. But there was also the memory of cigar smoke, something that might have been patchouli and another scent I couldn’t place. Whatever it was, it seemed to fill my mind and had me inhaling into the fabric as if I were starved and it was nourishment.

I had always tried to keep my distance from the members of the church. I had told myself it was like going to the zoo and getting to pat the tigers. As long as I followed the rules set out by Sister Imperator and did as I was instructed I would be fine. I had heard wild stories. Some of the things I had heard had been a little off-putting. I had dismissed it as nothing more than those strange siblings trying to scare me. They had said that the Papas would come in the night and suck my soul out for Lucifer if I didn’t keep the door locked. That they would sacrifice me if I didn’t make sure to arrange all the items in the sacristy the exact same way when I was returning freshly cleaned vestments and strange polished unholy objects.

I didn’t believe them. They were no different to those that worshipped God. I kept my head down and I did my job and I was thankful for it. It was only a joke, to try and test me I was sure. I had only been here six months, and albeit this place being such a strange one, it had quickly become my home.

However, I did lock my door at night. And I did keep everything exactly how it was expected to be in any room I entered. Those were the rules. That was all. I didn’t believe their taunting words about demons and magick and human sacrifices.

At least not really. Sometimes one of them would catch my eye and maybe I would believe it. But otherwise, I dismissed it.

I was late one evening when it had all changed. On nights I had to clear up after their midnight mass, I would have an afternoon shift and nap before completing the later half. I had slept in and when I had hurried to the huge cathedral I had not found it empty and dark as was usual at this time of night. The candles had been lit and there had been hundreds of them—thousands even. The whole building had been lit up and shadows upon shadows danced and kissed across the spiralling architecture.

That hadn’t been what stopped me in my tracks. It had been the woman bare on the steps, her body bent in a mockery of prayer as His Dark Excellency, Papa Emeritus the Fourth, fucked her face right there in front of everyone. It had been obscene. The sound of him sliding down her throat, her desperate choking moans and his low growls of approval echoed through the building. It had shot down my spine and curled with a burning fire low in my stomach.

The entire scene before me had been mesmerising, I hadn’t been able to tear my eyes away. While I hadn’t been able to see much with the flickering candlelight, his face had been enough. The way he had looked down upon her, those leather gloves curling into her hair, had me nearly dropping my keys to the ground. When he’d finally emptied himself down her throat, the candles had all blown out. A gust of air had brushed against my face like a caress. Before my eyes, I watched as the air seemed to manifest itself into a shape—a ghoul. The shape of its face wisped like smoke—a being clearly not of solid form—before it was pulling one of those eerie masks over its face, the eyes glowing in the sockets.

I had hastily fled to the library then, not wanting to see what they would do next or for someone to notice me. The priest on duty in the library had given me a strange look as I hurried in with my flushed face. It wasn’t my night to clean there but I needed somewhere quiet. Somewhere where I wouldn’t be disturbed. As I lent against a bookshelf in the depths of the cavernous room, the sound of pages turning and the whisper of low voices, I tried to calm the pounding of my heart. I could still see the Fourth in my mind, I could still hear the sounds that had escaped his throat as he had ravaged hers. The heady pull of arousal has curled around me again, making me feel hot and feverish. The feel of my black uniform against my skin had itched. The all-consuming need to let that man take me had felt branded upon my very soul.

Eventually, I had been calm enough to continue with my duties. The feeling had passed. Perhaps it had been the herbs burning in the church that made me feel so feverish and wanting. It has not happened again, every subsequent visit to the cathedral had been met with the cool silence of extinguished candles and empty pews.

After that night I started to pay a little more attention than usual. As a maid, I tended to pass by unnoticed. Nobody really cared who made their beds or cleaned their clothes—as long as it was done. All of the Papas were intimidating, their painted faces were not something you wanted to run into while cleaning a dark hallway. Most of my duties were done at hours when most of the congregation was elsewhere and I had very little interaction with them. I kept odd hours but it didn’t bother me. I spent most of my time in the greenhouse helping the Earth Ghouls tend to the First’s garden and the plants in the conservatory. The ghouls were friendly, and I had witnessed more of their strange magick as they had helped seedlings to grow. I had felt a little safer. While the tales they had told me may have held some truth—the acceptance of true magick and demons was still a little baffling—it was clear they meant me no harm.

Being assigned to clean the Papal suites was usually reserved for the senior maids like Gabriella who had worked there for years. But the one who usually cleaned this room had fallen ill and I had been asked by Sister Imperator to cover. As pathetic as it was to admit, I had felt honoured that she trusted me enough to do so. I was also full of brimming curiosity and a sort of desperate want to see inside his personal chambers.

Now I was completely abusing that trust, lying there on that ornate bed. I rolled onto my stomach and pressed my face into one of the many pillows, my fingers gripping the sheet and pulling it with me. How would it feel to be in this bed with him? The thought sent my body alight with desire, the scent that clung to the sheets was too addictive. I felt like I was right back there in the church. And all I could see was the vision of him in the cathedral, his hips snapping with ferocious lust into that Sister’s eager mouth. I was like a cat, luxuriating on that bed like some heathen. My mind was a pleasant fog. I could feel how wet I was as I buried myself in it.

It was like I was drunk.

“And what are you doing in my bed, dolce?”

The quiet voice shocked me. It should have felt like I had been doused in cold water. But it didn’t shock me in such a way—it startled me—but the sound of that voice send the most delicious burning thrill down my spine and between my legs. I sat bolt upright. My face was surely flushed and now turning red with embarrassment. I hastily tried to remove myself but he was there, a terrifying vision in a neat black suit, as he placed a gloved hand on my shoulder stilling my movements. It left me sitting there precariously on the edge of the bed as he stood before me.

“I am so sorry, Your Dark Excellency,” I said in a breathless rush. How I hated how pathetic I sounded. My voice choked and I tried to clear it, attempting to sound less like some insane woman who had only moments ago been writhing on his bed like a possessed demon. “I don’t know what overcame me.” Was I going to lose my job? I couldn’t go back. The desperation hit, sobering me more than anything else. “Please don’t tell Sister Imperator, I can’t lose this job. Please, I promise I won’t come in here ever again. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

“Si, it would be such a shame,” he said with a smile, his voice gentle as his hand still held my shoulder. “Imperator speaks so highly of you.”

She does? My brow furrowed. How would he even know what she said of me? How did he even know who I was?

“I will—”

“You will what?” He interrupted. The pleasantness of before was gone now. “You already clean this place. What could you offer me, hm?”

The words caught in my throat. I had nothing. What was I to offer? The hand on my shoulder suddenly slid up my throat and gripped tight. I could still breathe but the pressure was enough to send adrenaline rioting through my body. I wasn’t sure whether I should have been afraid or aroused and settled for both. There was a delicious feel to the warm leather around my neck, and I still felt strange. The smell of the leather rose up to my nose and mingled with the scent of him. I wanted to lean into it— but I ignored the mad thought. Delirious fantasies were one thing, the man being right there in my face with a grip on my neck was another.

“Let me go.” The words managed to work their way out of my lips, but his only smirked in response.

“I think perhaps not, pet,” the Fourth said. “You seemed to be enjoying my bed, it would only be fair if you let me enjoy you.”

I was stuck staring up at him and felt the fear drop in my gut like a stone. I could see every line on his handsome face. I was so close I could see the greying hairs at his temple and that he had a small scar underneath the right side of his jaw.

There was a tingle at the back of my mind as I stared into his mismatched eyes. I had felt it before in passing. “Don’t look into the white eye”, Gabriella had told me. The siblings and ghouls were not so easily entranced but I was not one of them. I was merely an outsider, not part of their kind—whatever kind that truly was.

“Are you going to bewitch me?” It sounded so ridiculous said aloud. But I was scared.

“I could.” The smirk returned. I felt the tingle again, it wasn’t how I imagined—like a weird hypnosis from some silly vampire film where I would have no memory of what happened after. I could still think quite clearly but I felt him there. His hand left my throat yet I didn't move.

Take off your dress and shoes.

I didn’t question the thought. I just did it. It was somehow more terrifying still being completely aware of what I was doing. I stood, my hands instantly reaching for the apron tied around my waist and untying the knot at the back as I toed off my shoes. It hadn't even hit the floor before I started to undo the buttons of my dress. I was left standing in my underwear and stockings in a matter of seconds. In a corner, there was a large baroque mirror on a wall and I could just make out my glazed blank expression. I tried to blink, to move my head, to frown—to do anything—but I couldn’t.

“However it is more fun if I don’t,” came his voice.

The fog in my mind instantly disappeared. I stumbled with my freedom returned as I was hit all at once with how cold I was.

Wrapping my arms around my middle I stared at him. His expression was smug as he stood there, hands clasped neatly in front of him. I knew he meant it was more fun for him. It would be humiliating for me this way. And that clearly seemed to delight him.

The Fourth took a step toward me, pointing at a circular ornate rug that decorated the floor before his bed.

“Kneel.”

I didn’t move—my eyes darted to the bed. I had thought he would merely fuck me and be done with it.

“You have to earn the bed,” he said, seeing my gaze. “Kneel.”

It would have been idiotic to lie to myself and say I wasn’t wet at the thought of sinking to my knees before him. The thought hadn't left my mind since seeing him in the cathedral that night. The ferocity of it had frightened me that night—more so than the blatant display of magick and supernatural creatures that resided under those ghoul masks. But it had kept me up at night because I had wanted it. Yet being here, before him, I was full of fear.

My knees settled on the rug, the softness of it was welcoming.

“Hands behind your back, pet,” he instructed. I did as I was told, it was surely easier than arguing.

The Fourth came to me then, standing above me, those mismatched eyes devouring every inch of my bare skin. My gaze drifted down and I could see the bulge in his black trousers, my lips parted without any thought. His pleasure of seeing me so willing was written on his face but he didn’t make a move to undress. Instead, he extended a shiny black dress shoe toward me, his eyes never leaving my face. I glanced down at it, my brow furrowing in confusion before I looked back at him once more.

“You are a maid, si?” he said, the smile disappearing from his face.

I swallowed before nodding. “Yes?”

“Clean.” He moved his shoe closer towards me. It was already pristine. The black leather was so shiny I could maybe believe I could see my own shocked face in the reflection.

I sat there, hands behind my back with what I was certain was a dumbstruck look on my face. Was he serious?

The man pulled his foot away and sighed.

“Vedo.” He twisted the papal ring adorned on his finger, the sound loud as it slide across the leather of his gloves. “Che deludente.” He pushed his hair back with a dramatic sigh and moved towards the door. “I will be seeing Sister Imperator now.”

I nearly fell over myself in my haste to stand, my stockinged feet slipping over the soft carpets as I rushed towards him just as he reached the door.

“Papa—Your Dark Excellency—please, wait!” The desperation hit me. I couldn’t leave, I refused to be sent back into the world. This strange place was my home. I had been taken in without question and treated with something akin to kindness. “Please.”

I was aware of how pathetic I sounded. As I stood there, half-naked with my arms wrapped around, watching him with frantic breaths as he appeared to think. The Fourth moved past me and pointed back at the rug with no expression on that painted face. Resigned, I moved back and knelt on the rug and put my hands behind my back.

Again, he extended one shiny shoe toward me. Maybe if I did it quickly it would be fine. I hastily bent down and licked from the tip of his shoe all the way up, my tongue hitting the laces and making me recoil at the unpleasant texture. I sat back and glanced up at him. In the low light of the room, it was hard to see his face clearly but he didn't look impressed.

"You can do better than that," he said as he tilted his foot to get a better look at the glistening wet stripe I'd left there. "Imperator says you are very thorough."

I gritted my teeth. It was worth it for my job, I told myself. And I was never, ever, coming in here again. I leant forward, whisps of hair falling from its pinned confines as I licked the shiny leather again. I tried to ignore the taste as I swept my tongue over every inch of his shoe until it glistened with my spit. I didn't even wait for him to say anything before I moved to his other shoe, and I heard the hum of approval above me. I hated it. I loved it. I wanted to cry.

"Very good, pet." The words sent a grateful rush of arousal through me and as I leant back to look at him, I tried to ignore how damp my knickers were.

I could feel the sting of tears at the corner of my eyes but I kept my gaze forward, trying to blink them away. The man walked away from me then and to a small table adorned with curiosities—one of which was a wooden box that he flicked open. I sat there, silently watching as he pulled a cigar out, cut it and lit it before tossing the lighter back on the table.

It was like I was nothing but another piece of furniture in the room. My tongue itched in my mouth, all I could taste was leather and the horrible tinge of shoe polish. I merely swallowed, trying to rid it from my throat. I shifted on my thighs. He continued to stand there a moment, taking a deep drag of it and then letting the smoke fill the room. Then he turned on his heel and stalked past me to sit in a small armchair by the bed. There was a tiny stand next to it that held an ashtray and the remnant of past cigars I hadn't yet cleared away.

Those eyes found mine and he crooked a gloved finger at me. I moved to stand.

“No, non così.” The words were snapped at me and I stopped moving immediately. He pointed a finger back down at the ground. “Come to Papa like a good pet.”

My knees sank back down to the ground and I let my hands fall forward onto the lush rug. My fingers immediately gripped it as I felt my face flush at the humiliation of it all. More of my hair has fallen out and was swinging in front of my face as I stared at the ornate pattern beneath me.

“Come.”

I crawled over toward him, keeping my head down and just focusing on where I was going. I could feel my body swaying—whether it was due to anticipation or dread I couldn’t decide. Maybe it was both. I was all too aware of how wet I was, I could feel the dampness of my underwear as I finally reached him, those shiny black shoes once more before me.

“Brava, pet.” I felt the warmth of a gloved hand under my chin before he was forcing me to look up at him. Those mismatched eyes were fixed on me. His painted lips quirked at the corners. “Now, do you want a treat?”

I wanted to leave. I wanted to yell at him. I wanted to hit him.

I also wanted to stay. And I hated that the most.

“Yes.” The word simply came out and there was no taking it back.

The pleasure at my response was clear on his face as it spread into a smile. I despised how much it pleased me to know I had pleased him. The Fourth let his thighs fall apart and my pussy clenched at the sight before me. The fabric was straining over the bulge and I could see a small wet patch where his cock had already started to leak through. I wet my lips and watched in a trance as he undid the bottom button of his waistcoat with his free hand so he could get it out of the way to undo his belt. With one hand, it was so slow as he worked. I swallowed, only the sound of the belt sliding free and my shallow breaths could be heard in the silence.

The sound of him undoing the zipper of his trousers shot straight down my spine. The man wasn’t wearing underwear and his cock sprang free before me. It was hard and leaking, straining out before me. He took a drag of the cigar and leant back in the chair, his legs opening wider as he moved. I was already moving forward and closing the distance. I shouldn't have been so eager but I stopped caring the moment my tongue touched the head of his cock, drawing out a long moan from him.

I wanted to make him do it again. One hand reached for his thighs to steady myself while the other was gripping him and giving his cock a few lazy pumps before my mouth engulfed him. The sound he made me draw my thighs together as I felt my own arousal flood my already soaked knickers. I heard the sound of him putting the cigar down before those gloved hands were in my hair, sending pins falling to the ground as he buried his fingers in. He wasn't going to let me go at my own pace, it seemed. He was pulling my face forward, my mouth sliding down his length as he growled out something intelligible in Italian. My tongue flicked at the underside of his cock and he bucked into me, sliding in deeper and hitting the back of my throat. I choked but he didn't stop, instead, he started to pump into my open mouth without a care. My hands were now gripping his thighs as I tried to focus on breathing through my nose, tears were already running down my face as he tilted my head up to look at him.

"Such a good little pet for Papa," he growled out.

Despite how uncomfortable it was, I hummed around him and felt his cock pulse in my mouth. His eyes closed, another feral sounding moan leaving those painted lips as he thrust down my throat. I did it again and the grip in my hair tightened, tugging on it painfully. I couldn't help but put a hand between my legs, my fingers touching the sodden fabric of my knickers with desperate urgency. It was glorious relief as I tried to rut against my own hand but I choked out a scream around him when I felt something sting my shoulder. He had grabbed the cigar and brought it against my skin, making ash fall over me.

"I didn't say you could touch yourself," he said as he put it back on the ashtray, a thumb swiping at the tears cascading down my face. "Now keep being a good pet for Papa."

He gripped my face and started to erratically pump in and out of my mouth. My shoulder was smarting and my pussy ached. I needed him. My glassy eyes were fixed on his face as I felt him swell in my mouth before he came, the thick cum hitting the back of my throat. I tried to swallow it but he was already pulling out and making it drip past my swollen lips and down my chin. The Fourth picked the cigar up again and took a drag before letting the smoke fill the room again. I sniffed, feeling the ash over me and his cum dripping down onto my chest as my own arousal ran down my thighs. Surely I had left a stain on the rug.

He stood, and grabbed my dress and shoes before tossing them at me. I stared at them bewildered. I wanted to cry again.

“Sorry, pet,” he said as he leant down, wiping more of the tears and some of his own seed from my face. It was clear he felt no remorse at all. “Papa non si scopa le puttane sporche.” In a daze, I stood up on unstable feets as I put my dress back on and stepped into my shoes. The fabric itched and my sweat was making it stick to my back. The Fourth grabbed my basket full of linen on the table and pushed it into my arms, dropping his soiled gloves on top as he pushed me towards the door.

“You are to serve me, si?” He slammed the door in my face. ------------------------

I’ve never written anything like this before. Please do not perceive me. Also, I did not intend for voyeurism again, it just kinda happened.

While not explicitly stated, this can be seen as the same Copia from my story Nothing Ever Lasts Forever - just set much earlier.

*Vedo. Che deludente. - I see. How disappointing. *No, non così. - No, not like that. *Papa non si scopa le puttane sporche - Papa doesn’t fuck dirty whores

Some more songs:

Total Depravity - The Veils Pretty When You Cry - Lana Del Rey Master and Servant - Depeche Mode Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby - Cigarettes After Sex Pretty Little Head - Eliza Rickman

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[baeklination]

A Wish: Wedtime Stories

Date: 220702

Warnings: SMUT 🔞, general fucking, gen.expl.lang.

Pairing: Baekhyun x F. Reader

WC: 3k

NOTE: From Anon: "Can you please write wedding night with Baekhyun?" Since it's a "wedding piece" I made the intro a little longer than usual and there's obviously a bit of sweetness in there as well. Hope you enjoy it..!

Masterlist

¤¤

Baekhyun had touched your hand and pointed to the bouquet.

“Oh…”

The little note - “for the soon to be Mrs.” - was still on it, so you carefully took it off and put it in your pocket. It had been delivered the same morning, from the neighbour upstairs since he knew you were going down to the courthouse today. With no families to speak of it had in so many ways always just been the two of you so deciding on a simple ceremony came easy. People say the wedding day is the happiest day of your life, but no - with Baekhyun every day would be the happiest; even up until this morning your thoughts had been about being, not getting, married. Then suddenly, as you took your dress off the hanger, you became nervous. Giddy. It wouldn’t be much to the average person, this mint green dress in crushed velvet you found at the thrift shop, but to you it held all the brightness you could see in him and you couldn’t believe your luck when seeing the tag read 17$.

You couldn’t hold your laughter in when the little grandpa played “Here Comes the Bride” on his keyboard as you entered the room. When Baekhyun gave him the thumbs up, the beige sleeve of his suit was so far down you could barely see his finger; a testament to it being borrowed, not bought or rented. It had been a quick affair, but nonetheless lovely, and riding the bus back home, spinning the ring on your finger, you already felt different.

“It’s weird.”

“No, it’s not…”

Even though you bought the table ages ago you always have dinner by the TV, sitting on the floor, not across from each other like this. Slurping down a spoonful of the tofu stew, Baekhyun’s eyes wander to the living area.

“Yes, it’s weird”, he concedes. Taking your hand, by the looks of it getting ready for a skit, he continues. “But we’re married now, this is the life we have to lead…chaa… Our fun days are over, Mrs. Byun. And, oh, look..! It’s already past seven, we better get ready for bed.” 

“Ugh, can you imagine..!”

“I’m kinda hoping we will…”

After three days of sleeping apart (him on the couch) and no acts of romance (aside from kissing) Baekhyun doesn't have to further explain what he means. 

“We have to drink the-”

“Right!”, he smiles and claps his hands, remembering the bottle of prosecco your manager gifted you. “In the bedroom? Before sealing our nuptial vows..? Eh?”

“Oh, you speak so scandalously, Mr. Byun…”

And the truth is even though this won’t be the first time you have sex it feels different. Sure, partly because of the no touch-rule, but there’s also the glittering sheen of wedding night surrounding it and the jitters of what Baekhyun will say about your attire. Not having much money meant you hardly spent any on new things and certainly not on these kinds of things.

“I’m gonna change. I…um, I got something…”

“For…” He blinks, and thinks. “...the bedroom?”

Fancy underwear costs a pretty penny so you started saving up as soon as you set a date, but even so you kept going back-and-forth when you got to the store until finally, sternly telling yourself “You’re allowed to want to look nice and feel special on your wedding day” and spent the money you’d saved for that very reason.

It certainly feels different. You run your hands down the soft silk of the white nightgown to the stockings beneath and double check that the garter doesn’t peek through when you take a step then open the bathroom door with butterflies in your stomach.

“Baekhyun?”

“Yeah?”

“Close your eyes, okay?... Okay?”

“They’re closed, promise”, he calls from the bedroom.

When you come to the doorway you see you’re not the only one who’s changed; now in his pyjama pants he lies on his back, eyes diligently shut and hands clasped together over his stomach. Standing in front of the bed you tell him:

“Okay, open.”

Sitting up with a jerk he smacks his lips.

“Oh! W…Wow…” He smiles shyly as he gets up, but stops his hands from touching you. “You’re not returning it..?”

“No. Do you like it?”

He opens his mouth as if to say something, but ends up only humming, nodding, while he puts his hands on your waist.

“Ouh, why am I so nervous? I feel like a virgin, I don’t know what to do”, he chuckles, gracing his hands over your shoulders, your hair.

“Kiss me, maybe?”

“Mm.”

Sliding his hand onto your neck, brushing his thumb over your earlobe, he bends down and puts his lips to yours. At first it’s gentle as though marking the occasion, but soon you feel the wet inside of his lips, then his tongue. You grab him firmly by the waist and his murmur teases a fire between your legs, helped by the way he clutches on the fabric of your dress.

“If we don’t chug that thing now”, he sighs and takes your hand.

“Chug? It’s top quality, we have to enjoy it.”

“You’re the only top quality I care about enjoying right now.”

 Since it’s not fully dark outside, he’s put the blinds down and the two candles he lit by the window helps with a splash of romance. Handing over one of the glasses he sits down on the bed as well.

“A toast… To Mrs. Byun.”

“And Mr., no…you still have the same name, it’s not as new and exciting.”

“That’s because you’re mine, all mine. Come here.”

He puts his arms around your back for support when you sit on his lap, then twitches as if he’s suddenly realised something. Studying your face he almost looks melancholy, yet reassured.

“I love you.”

“I know.”

The clink of your glasses breaks the seriousness and if not that then the bitter bubbles hitting your palates would’ve. Scrunching his face, he puts his glass on the nightstand again and yours after that.

His taste is indistinguishable from yours but his touch isn’t. When his hand goes over your knee your abdomen twirls and when his fingers go under the dress, touching your bare skin it beats. When his fingertips come in contact with the garter he pulls away from your lips and lifts your skirt.

“This too? Oh, what kind of a naughty devil did I marry?”, he purrs, tugging on your bottom lip. He pulls your gown over your head and throws it on the edge of the bed then pats the mattress. “I think cosy time is over.”

“You know I always think you look great, but…uh, tonight…”, he groans in your ear as he pushes his pelvis against you.

When you put your hands under his trousers they meet his skin instead of boxers which explains why his hard-on is so distinct between your legs. He lifts up to let you push his pants below his cheeks then you grip his cock, stroking the taut skin over the head.

“Ah…” Resting his forehead against yours he breathes with a tremor. “I’ve missed your hands.”

You’ve missed feeling him in your hand, the beating anticipation of knowing he’ll soon push himself into you, growing thicker the deeper he goes. As if reading your mind he gets up and takes his pants off completely, then rolls down your stockings one at a time. Smiling, he puts his teeth to the garter and pulls it down as well. Putting his fingers under the hem of your underwear he gives you a kiss right above:

“Are you ready to consummate our marriage?”

“Not if you say it like that…”, you answer, putting your hand over his in jest.

He takes a long breath then sighs it out, brushing his nose against the fabric over your clit:

“How should I say it, then..?”

“Like that.”

After pulling them off and tossing them to the side he wastes no time laying down. He happily lets you tug at his hair when he presses his mouth to yours, searching for your entrance with the head of his cock. Finding it, he pushes without hesitation, making the pair of you catch your breath. It feels like he’s grown, like he’s even more luscious than four days ago and unbelievably sexy rolling his pelvis to stretch you out, jutting his jaw like that.

“Oh-hh… wife feels different…ah…”

With his hand on your hip he presses his length in with precise, smooth waves, giving away how much he’s missed you by his various sounds of satisfaction. Putting his forearms on your sides, he aligns his body with yours and keeps rolling. A smile flashes in his eyes right before he presses his wet lips to yours. His kisses are sticky and outdrawn, teasing your senses the same way his cock teases flutters around your entrance and inside as it glides back and forth. When you run your hands down his back and stroke his cheeks he thrusts a little harder and faster, grabbing onto your shoulder, breathing in your ear, but soon presses deep and stops moving. He exhales heavily.

“This…agh…might not take long…”, he chuckles.

You press him even closer, digging your fingers into his cheeks.

“I’m not worried.”

As if he never stopped his pace is the same when he starts bucking again, pressing you down into the mattress with energetic thrusts.

“That’s right…”, he pants behind your ear “...ah-h…we have all night…”

The closer he gets, the more sensitive he becomes, making every stroke a burst of incomparable pleasure; his stunted yelps ring clear as a bell dripping honey next to you. 

“Uh-hh…” His grip on your shoulder tightens. The air gets stuck in his throat and he pushes his head against yours. “Ah, f-”

The neighbours will think he’s hurt the way he wails in satisfactory agony while he repeatedly rams his cock as far as it’ll go, making sure every last drop of cum is emptied out of him into you.

His stomach presses down heavily on yours as he gasps for air.

“Sh…shit…”

After swallowing hard he sighs, rocking his forehead against yours, then caresses your cheek.

“Mmm…”, he hums, kissing you. “Wife really is different… Christ…”

¤

“Just so you know…”, Baekhyun says and rolls to his side. “...we’re never doing this again. This no sex thing.”

“Why would we? But come on, it was three days. It can’t have been that hard, B.”

“Babe…I’ve never pushed into you that easily…”, he muses, stroking your cheek, knowing he’s right.

“No, that was just because I had that drink. You know it woosh, went straight to my head and got me loose.”

“Mm, I bet. Either way. I swear, yesterday I almost caved.”

“The day before?”

“Because it was the day before. When I was lying out there I kept thinking tomorrow, tomorrow… I was so goddamn hard, when I squeezed my cock…I kept imagining how it’d feel to put my hand around it and pump.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Honestly? B..? I won’t be mad, it’s over anyway.”

“I didn’t. Baby, I swear”, he insists, pulling you in for a cuddle on his chest.

Doing nothing special, sometimes talking, at times being quiet, you feather your fingers on his body. He doesn’t react when you run them along his length, but you know he thinks it feels nice when you casually touch him like this. You remember something and laugh to yourself.

“What..?”

“No, I…When I put them on, the clothes, for a second I was like… When you were a kid, playing in the woods or taking a shortcut, did you sometimes see pages from a magazine, like-”

“Wait… Oh! I’d completely forgot..!”, he exclaims excitedly.

“You know what I mean..!”

“Yeah, from nudie mags, right?”

“M-hm! They’d be all beaten up or torn, but you could clearly see what it was.”

Baekhyun fills the room with his warm, full-bodied laughter.

“That’s what you think you looked like..?” 

“For a second! It reminded me of it, how they always wore white underwear, stockings and all that, you know.”

His chest billows under your head when he silently giggles about your thoughts and probably the memory itself. When he goes quiet you notice his cock is starting to move upwards under your fingertips and he strokes your arm.

“You…Is it something you wanna try, maybe..?”

“Is it something you wanna try, Baekhyun?”

When you look up at him he also turns, looking to the corner of the room with his lips pursed. Making a show of it, you sigh deeply and grab him firmly by the root and move your hand up and down.

“I guess not…”

Tightening his grips around your arm while softly bucking his hips into your hand, he whispers over your head:

“I think you should.”

¤

The second go of you wearing your lingerie might not be as filled with romance - sitting up resting on your arms with Baekhyun leaning over between your legs - but the way he moves from kissing your neck to sliding the straps off and sucking on your nipples makes up for it. It’s not intentional but the way you comb through his hair while he sucks almost makes you feel like one of the women in those magazines; faintly moaning as you feel your panties getting wet. Slowly, with richness, he kisses you, eager to continue.

“Touch me”, he moans over your lips.

He’s so close that his balls brush against you when you pump and it turns you on even more, so when he pulls your panties to the side he doesn’t have to say anything before you steer his cock down to your entrance. Your husband is the perfect fit the way he fills you up, pressing your walls aside just right with his slow bucking until you completely let him in.

Barely moving anything else than his hips he roughly smacks them against yours to get his cock as deep in as possible. The sheets underneath your hands move as he pulls at them with his clutching fingers and his hair becomes a tangled mess rubbing against your neck. From the sound of his moans you can tell he’s biting his lip before releasing it along with a burning burst of air. Spreading your legs even wider to receive everything he’s giving, you moan:

“Don’t stop…”, putting your hand on his neck.

“Are you gonna come?”, he whispers stickingly, pulling your underwear more to the side.

Putting all fingers on your pussy he rubs, quickly sliding back and forth over your clit as he continues to pound his cock in and out, breathing heavily from exertion and arousal. You feel every millimetre as it rises closer and closer until spilling over into spasming thighs, clutching fingers and whines.

Baekhyun doesn’t stop or let you breathe. He eases up on the pace and circles his fingers slowly, but doesn’t stop while he greedily pushes his tongue onto yours, humming forcefully. His circling makes you twitch, but the hazy line between pain and pleasure is heavenly.

“Lie down…”

Without sliding out he gets in position; coming up close he raises your legs, holding tightly on your thighs. It catches you off guard when he starts thrusting. You hear both the smack of your bodies and the wet impact of your fluids being pushed out over your gasp as you rush to grab onto the sheets above.

He was already well on his way when you came, so after an apologetic wink, running his hand through his hair, he shifts his attention. Dropping his jaw, knitting his brows, he’s entranced by the image of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy with the panties next to it. He pounds and pounds, then a twitch runs through his body making him groan and shut his eyes tight.

“Ah, fuck…”, he whispers, then releases an airy wail and frenetically rolls, grinds his groin against you, emptying himself. “Ah...chh…ahh.”

¤ 

After gathering strength Baekhyun goes to the kitchen and comes back with a pitcher of juice and a proud smile on his face.

“I knew we had one carton left. Let’s mix it with the bubbly and make a packlist.”

You’re only gonna be away for two days and one night, but preparing for it is exciting anyway; scribbling down clothes, tickets and reservation numbers to remember - and the juice blended out your drinks enough to make it enjoyable while keeping the celebratory feel.

“Don’t forget we have to buy film for the camera.”

“Mm, if we get off at Westfield there’s a store there, not far from the station. Then…” Fiddling with the sheet in front of him, he makes his eyes big and round.

“Then what..?”

“If you take those new clothes maybe we could-”

“Ha! That's all you care about now..!”

“Yes!”, he teases, placing a kiss on your cheek. “You bought it ‘cus you wanted me to look, didn’t you..?”

“You… What kind of naughty devil did I marry?”

“Just trying to make the most of our honeymoon”, he shines brightly, then sighs as he takes your fingers in his hand. “I really wish I could’ve gotten three days off like you.”

“Me too. But two is better than none and I don’t know if they have much else than the zoo up there anyway.”

“Close your eyes!”, he suddenly bursts out.

“Why?”

“Why? I did it right away when you told me to.”

“Okay. But if something starts poking me…”

You can tell he’s getting off the bed by the shifting and his laugh moving away, then you hear him opening the closet door.

“Okay”, he declares, sitting down next to you.

In front of you lies a tiny box in red velvet, the lid open to show a pair of heart-shaped earrings in gold - the very ones you’d stop to dream about when you passed the window of the vintage shop downtown. They aren’t something you save up for with a handful here, some there - you realise it’s what all Baekhyun’s extra shifts were for. The magnitude of his love tightens your chest and puts a burn in your eyes. When you pick the box up he jerks forward.

“Are you crying?” 

“No”, you laugh and wipe a tear away. “I got something in my eye.”

“My baby’s crying..!”, he coos, sliding his arms around your shoulders, nuzzling your neck.

And maybe you are, maybe just a bit.