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zeroxxlhero · 12 days ago

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Is It A Crime? • Cassandra Kiramman

Warnings: 18+ characters, pining, milf!lover reader, cheating, age gap, gn reader, flirting, alcohol consumption, one-sided jealousy, secret relationship, pussy eating, hair pulling, doggy style, praising, overstimulation, gn reader but has a penis, rough sex, unprotected sex, slight possessive tendencies, guilt cheating

Pairings: Cassandra Kiramman x You

Fandom: Arcane (League of Legends)

Would it really be a crime for a married woman to sedate the yearn she couldn’t find in her marriage?

The ballroom gleamed in shimmering golds and ivories, a sea of delicate crystal chandeliers casting soft, mesmerizing light across the polished marble floors. The air was thick with the sound of clinking glasses, murmured exchanges of politeness, and the subtle notes of a string quartet playing in the background. The gathering was sophisticated, an event that catered to the highest echelons of society, each guest dressed to the nines in the finest fabrics money could buy.

Cassandra Kiramman, standing among them, was no exception. Her gown, a stunning creation of deep sapphire blue silk, flowed around her form like liquid. It hugged her curves, emphasizing her regal stature, while the plunging neckline was tastefully designed, offering just enough allure without being too revealing. A delicate diamond necklace sat at her throat, catching the light with every slight tilt of her head. Her dark hair, meticulously styled in soft waves, framed her face, but even then, her piercing eyes remained the focus of her allure.

Her poise was perfect, as expected. A queen amongst lesser mortals, her presence in the room was undeniable. She moved with effortless grace, exchanging pleasantries with various guests—politicians, businessmen, dignitaries—but all the while, her attention remained elsewhere, focused on a single figure across the room.

You.

You were the kind of person who demanded attention without ever asking for it. Dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit, the fabric hugging your shoulders and tapering down to your waist in a way that screamed both power and subtlety, you were the epitome of charisma. Your hair complemented your face and the dangerous glint in your eyes. Every word you spoke, every gesture you made, seemed to draw the crowd in like moths to a flame. You were charming, disarming, and undeniably magnetic, the kind of person people wanted to be around, to impress.

The host, a well-known socialite with an inflated sense of self-importance, hovered around you with a rapt attention, practically clinging to your every word. She laughed too loudly at your jokes, her hand lingering too long on your arm as though she were the only one to understand the subtle layers of your charm. Cassandra clenched her jaw as she watched, though she would never let it show. Jealousy was an emotion she seldom allowed herself to indulge in, but with you, it was unavoidable. The way the host leaned in just a little too close, her eyes wide and eager—Cassandra wanted to push her away, to remind her that she was nothing more than a passing distraction. But she held her tongue.

Her fingers gripped her glass tighter, the cold crystal digging into her palm. Her emerald gaze followed you across the room, her breath slowing, her pulse quickening. You stood there like a god amongst men, your effortless charm and quiet confidence commanding the space around you. Every person you engaged with melted into the background, as if they were mere pawns in a game you had already won. The host was a reflection of your influence—captivated, helpless to the magnetism of your presence.

And that was when you caught her.

Your eyes met hers across the ballroom, an instant connection in the sea of faces. It was subtle at first, a glance that could have been mistaken for anything—just a momentary flicker of acknowledgment. But Cassandra knew. She knew you had seen her. And in that fleeting instant, her breath hitched. She could feel the weight of your gaze on her, your eyes locking with hers like a magnetic pull she couldn’t escape.

The room around her seemed to dissolve, the laughter, the chatter, the music—all fading into a muffled hum as the two of them became the center of their world. You had that look in your eyes, the one she knew all too well: the knowing, smirking glance that suggested you were fully aware of her silent watching, her longing, her desperate need to pull you closer.

And then, as though toying with her, you flashed that smile—a slow, deliberate curve of your lips that held a thousand unspoken promises. It was the kind of smile that made her pulse race and her breath catch in her throat. It wasn’t just charming; it was dangerous, seductive, like a whispered secret shared between only the two of them.

The host babbled on beside you, oblivious to the silent exchange unfolding, but Cassandra’s world had narrowed to a single point. The soft hum of the ballroom returned, but she was no longer fully present. The others, the endless flow of conversation and pleasantries, were nothing but background noise. Only you existed in this moment, and you knew it.

Her heart drummed in her chest as she tried to steady herself, but it was impossible. The jealousy was a searing heat, coiling in her gut, but there was something deeper, something far more potent in her response to you—desire. A yearning so intense it burned through every layer of composure she had carefully crafted over the years. You were her secret, her forbidden indulgence, the one thing in her life that made her feel alive in a way nothing else could.

And then, as though to seal her fate, you did it again. Your eyes lingered just a moment longer, a slight nod of acknowledgment to your secret connection, a silent promise that no one else could understand. Cassandra’s breath faltered. She could almost hear the playful teasing in your smirk, the way you knew she would react. How you would always be the one to keep her on the edge, always the one to control the ebb and flow of your unspoken affair.

Cassandra’s grip on her glass tightened until her knuckles turned white, but she didn’t care. Not anymore. The night would pass like all the others—filled with empty conversations and polite interactions—but this time, it would end with you. It always did.

As you turned your attention back to the host, Cassandra fought to regain her composure, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that the rest of the world no longer mattered. The event, the guests, the endless sea of superficiality—it was all a blur compared to the dark promise in your eyes. She would play her part, as she always did, but she knew the night would end with the two of them—just the two of them—hidden away from prying eyes, lost in the dangerous thrill of their forbidden relationship.

Eventually, you excused yourself from the conversation you’d been having and began weaving through the crowd toward her, your movements as smooth and deliberate as a predator closing in on its prey. Cassandra’s heart thudded in her chest, but she remained perfectly still, her exterior calm and unshaken.

When you reached her, you tilted your head, offering a smile that was equal parts charm and mischief.

“Madam Kiramman,” you said smoothly, your voice low and rich, “I couldn’t help but notice your… captivating presence this evening.”

Cassandra arched a brow, refusing to give you the satisfaction of seeing how deeply your words affected her. “Is that so?” she replied, her tone cool and measured. “I hadn’t realized I was the topic of your amusement.”

Your smile deepened, and there it was again��that damnable knowing glint in your eyes. “Oh, you’re far more interesting than you let on,” you said, stepping just a fraction closer, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “And far more interesting than anyone else in this room.”

Cassandra felt her breath catch again, but she refused to let it show. Instead, she allowed a small, enigmatic smile to curve her lips. “Flattery will get you nowhere,” she said softly, though the warmth in her cheeks betrayed her.

You chuckled, the sound low and intimate, sending a shiver down her spine. “Who said I was trying to get anywhere?” you replied, holding her gaze as if the rest of the world had fallen away. “Maybe I just wanted to get closer to you.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but her lips remained sealed. She knew you were playing a game—one she’d grown accustomed to over the years. This was a mood she would feign until you pushed her, until you escalated the teasing to the point where she couldn’t help but respond. Cassandra wasn’t one to be easily coaxed, but with you, it was always different. She had always been susceptible to your games, to your charm. You had a way of breaking down her defenses, and it both enraged, aroused, and thrilled her in equal measure.

She huffed, rolling her eyes, looking away for a moment. “Always the entertainer,” she remarked, her words laced with a subtle annoyance. She didn’t like how easily you had shifted the attention to her.

You leaned closer, deliberately, your breath warm against her ear as you spoke, your voice low and almost intimate. “I could say the same thing about you, Cassandra. Always pretending not to want what you can’t have.”

Her breath caught in her throat. The words, the way you said them, sent a shiver through her. She turned her head to look at you again, her expression now a careful mask of indifference. “You’re delusional if you think I’m playing your games.” But her voice was softer now, the edge of frustration bleeding into something else—something raw, something almost desperate.

You could see it—the way her eyes flickered with a mixture of annoyance and desire. It was always the same. She’d put up the front, pretending to be unaffected, but you both knew the truth. It was a dance she couldn’t resist, one she always played until the very end.

You moved just a little closer, your presence overwhelming, intoxicating. The space between you seemed to shrink, the air thickening with unspoken tension. “I don’t think it’s me who’s delusional, Cassandra,” you murmured, your gaze never leaving hers, your words deliberately slow, teasing. “You think I don’t see it? That I can’t feel the way you want to touch me? The way your body responds when I’m near? It’s written all over you.”

She stiffened, her breath hitching at your boldness. Every word you spoke seemed to pierce her, each one a calculated strike designed to bring her to the edge. She could feel the heat in her cheeks, the subtle tightening of her chest, the way her pulse quickened against her will.

“I don’t know what you think you’re implying,” she said, her voice strained as she tried to hold onto the shreds of her composure, but you could hear the falter in her tone.

You smirked again, and this time, you didn’t hold back. Your hand, almost absentmindedly, brushed against the small of her back, a fleeting touch that was deliberate enough to make her heart race. “I think you know exactly what I’m implying. You’ve been playing at being the picture of elegance, the perfect host, the model of restraint. But it’s just that—a game. And we both know you don’t like losing.”

Her eyes flashed with a warning, but the effect of your words had already sunk in. The heat in her chest spread lower now, coiling in her stomach. She hated how you saw through her, how you always had this uncanny ability to break through the layers she built around herself.

“Don’t,” she warned quietly, though there was no force behind it. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it was still a clear command.

But you only leaned closer, now your lips brushing against her ear. “You’re never going to tell me no, Cassandra. Not when I’m this close. Not when you want me just as much as I want you. You know this… as much as you try to fight it.”

The words hung in the air, thick with the electricity between them, heavy with the desire neither of them was willing to fully acknowledge. Her chest tightened, and though she hated the way her body betrayed her, she couldn’t deny it. She wanted you. More than she cared to admit.

Her breathing was shallow now, her thoughts clouded. She felt the pull of you, the undeniable tension that had always existed between the two of them. There was no denying it anymore. She could try to play her part, to keep up the pretense of disinterest, but you had stripped that away with just a few words.

The moment hung between them, each second stretched thin as Cassandra fought to keep her composure. But you knew—you knew—that her walls were crumbling, and it was only a matter of time before she surrendered to the very thing she’d tried so hard to deny.

You leaned back slightly, your lips curling into that infuriatingly confident smirk. “I’ll be waiting, darling,” you said softly, your voice laced with both promise and challenge.

The evening had passed in a blur of fake smiles and perfunctory conversations, but nothing had mattered. Not the event, not the guests, not the endless stream of handshakes and pleasantries. All that lingered in Cassandra’s mind was the weight of the words you’d left her with, the pulse of desire that had only grown more insistent as the night wore on.

She had barely made it back to her place before the familiar pull of temptation drew her in once more. She couldn’t ignore it anymore—not the way her body responded to you, the way her mind always returned to those heated exchanges, those words, that smirk. The game was never over, and she knew, deep down, that she would lose every time.

Her heels clicked against the floor as she approached your door, the familiar tension coiling in her stomach. Her fingers moved to the handle, steady but with the faintest tremor—an indication of just how much you had gotten under her skin. When the door swung open, there was no fanfare, no grand display—just you, waiting in the shadows, the same smirk on your lips, that same unreadable look in your eyes.

You didn’t need to ask. You never did. She walked in without hesitation, as though this was the most natural thing in the world. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its warm glow casting long shadows on the walls. The room was quiet, intimate—exactly as it always was when they met. The bed was already made, the sheets a soft, inviting contrast to the dark ambiance of the room.

You shut the door behind her, your movements languid, deliberate, but there was no rush. Neither of them had any need for pretense now. Not here. Not in the place that had become theirs.

Cassandra moved deeper into the room, her gaze never leaving you. She was still wearing the evening dress, the sapphire fabric clinging to her form like a second skin. She looked like she belonged in a different world—one of opulence, of control. But here, in this dimly lit space, that world fell away, leaving only the two of them and the unspoken tension that had been building all evening.

Without a word, you gestured toward the bed, your eyes dark and heavy with something more than mere desire. It was an invitation—one she had accepted countless times before. Cassandra didn’t need to be asked twice. She moved toward the bed with the grace of a queen, her fingers unzipping the back of her dress slowly, deliberately. Every movement, every shift of her body, was calculated, as though she were stripping away her control piece by piece.

She turned to face you once more, her eyes meeting yours. The look in her eyes was a mix of defiance and need—an undeniable hunger that had taken root in her from the moment she’d crossed your threshold.

You didn’t speak at first, merely watching her, letting the silence stretch between you, thick with unspoken promises. There was no rush, no need for more words. The game had been set, and now it was just a matter of who would make the first move.

When she finally stepped out of the dress, the cool air brushed against her skin, but it was the heat between them that made her heart race. Her body, so carefully composed and controlled in the outside world, was now exposed in more ways than one. But with you, there was no judgment. Only the weight of desire and the pull of inevitability.

You took a step closer, your eyes tracing the curve of her body, the way the firelight danced off her skin. “You really thought you could keep resisting, didn’t you?” you murmured, your voice low and teasing.

Cassandra’s lips curled into a small, almost imperceptible smile, but it was tinged with something darker—something that told you she was past the point of pretense. “I wasn’t resisting,” she replied softly, her voice thick with a mix of frustration and longing. “I just didn’t want to make it this easy for you.”

You chuckled, a low sound that sent a ripple of anticipation through her. “You never make it easy. But it’s fun to watch you try.”

She moved closer now, her breath mingling with yours, and you let her. You always let her take the first step, always let her think she had the upper hand, but you both knew it was an illusion. The power between them was never equal—it never could be. You had her wrapped around your finger, even if she refused to admit it.

When she finally reached you, her hands moved with purpose, the edges of her fingers grazing the sharp lines of your jaw before trailing down to your collar. Her touch was electric, a silent promise of what was to come. “You never learn,” she said, her words like a challenge, but you knew better. You always knew how to make her lose herself in the moment.

With fluid motion, you unbuttoned your shirt, the fabric falling away from your chest, revealing the strength and the muscle beneath. But it was the look in your eyes that held her—the raw hunger, the darkness that mirrored her own.

Without a word, you pulled her toward you, your lips crashing into hers, the kiss deep and possessive. The fire crackled louder now, its flames dancing with the same intensity that burned between them. Everything else—the world outside, the rules they both pretended to follow—faded into nothing. There was only the heat of the moment, the undeniable force of attraction that had brought them here again.

A paradise of punishment.

That’s what it felt like as you guide Cassandra back to the bed, your mouths never separating even as you’ve got her pinned underneath you. Her tongue was coaxing itself into the hot, addicting cavity of your mouth that could be doing other things to her body, such as alleviating the mounting tension between her thighs.

You push Cassandra back onto the bed, admiring the way her hair fans out across the white pillow, a stark contrast to her pale skin. She watches you with lidded eyes, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, anticipation heavy in the air between you.

You trail your fingertips up the inside of her thigh, the skin warm and smooth beneath your touch. Cassandra's legs part for you, eagerly inviting your touch higher. As you reach the junction between her legs, you can see a damp spot blooming on her panties, evidence of her desire.

You hook your fingers in the waistband, tugging the lacy fabric down her legs and off, leaving her bare before you. You take a moment to admire the sight of her, the delicate folds of her pussy glistening with arousal, a temptation you can't resist.

With a low growl of appreciation, you drop your head between her thighs, your lips brushing against her slick flesh. Cassandra bucks at the contact, a gasp torn from her throat as your tongue delves into her heat. You lap at her like a starved beast, lapping up her wetness as if it's the finest ambrosia.

Cassandra's hands fly to your hair, her fingers tangling in the strands, holding you closer. You let her guide you, nuzzling into her core as you seek out the small bundle of nerves at the top of her clit. You circle it with the tip of your tongue, applying just the right amount of pressure to drive her wild with sensation.

"Oh gods, yes," Cassandra gasps, her head falling back against the pillows, her hips rocking against your face. "Don't stop, please..."

As if you could, even if she asked.

Your mouth and tongue work in tandem to push Cassandra closer to the edge. You lap at her, your tongue delving deep to gather her sweetness, only to pull back when you feel her tensing, her release just out of reach.

You ease two fingers into her slick pussy, curling them to stroke along her inner walls, seeking out that special spot that will make her see stars. You can feel her fluttering around your digits, her body desperate for more friction.

But still, you deny her, keeping your touch maddeningly light and teasing. Cassandra's frustrated whimpers and needy moans fill the room, music to your ears. She's so close, you can feel it in the way she's clenching around your fingers, the way her thighs are trembling with the effort of holding herself back.

"Please, I can't...I need to...please let me cum,"

At her desperate pleas, you pull your fingers from her, admiring the way her walls clench around nothing, trying to pull you back in. You can't help but smirk, savoring the way she looks, spread out and desperate before you, begging for release.

You raise your hand, letting it hover over her sex, your palm just brushing against her sensitive flesh. Cassandra's hips buck, trying to chase the contact, but you deny her, maintaining the tantalizing distance between your skin and hers.

"Do you want to cum, Cassandra?" you ask, your voice low and teasing. You punctuate your question with a light tap to her clit, the shock of sensation making her hips jerk off the bed. But before she can even form a response, you've moved on, letting your palm graze along her clit in a mockery of what she really wants.

You keep up the teasing touches, each pass of your hand sending sparks of denied pleasure racing through Cassandra's system. She's writhing now, her hands fisting in the sheets as she struggles to maintain control. Each time her hips twitch towards you, seeking more of your touch, you pull away, leaving her aching and empty. It's a delicious form of torture, one that has Cassandra babbling and begging, her words tumbling out in an incoherent rush.

You lean down, nipping at her inner thigh, your teeth scraping against her delicate skin. You can taste the salt of her sweat, the musk of her arousal. It's intoxicating and addictive, and you can't get enough.

But still, you hold back, determined to push her to her limits and beyond. Because that's what she needs, what she craves. To be taken apart and put back together again, remade in your image.

You dip your head, your tongue delving deep into her soaked folds, lapping at her like a starved beast. Your fingers join in the fray, pumping in and out of her slick channel in a relentless rhythm. Cassandra's world narrows down to the feel of your mouth and fingers, the pleasure cresting higher and higher with each flick of your tongue, each curl of your fingers. She's panting now, her chest heaving, her nails digging into your scalp, holding you in place as you feast on her.

You can feel her clamping down around your fingers, her walls fluttering and pulsing as her climax approaches. She's so close, teetering on the precipice, her thighs trembling, her breaths coming in sharp, short gasps. You double your efforts, sucking hard on her clit, fingering her roughly, determined to push her over the edge.

"That's it, Cassandra, let go," you encourage, your words vibrating against her sensitive flesh. "Cum for me, show me how much you love my tongue on your sweet cunt." Your dirty talk is the final push she needs. With a hoarse shout of your name, Cassandra comes undone, her release slamming into her like a runaway train. Her back bows off the bed, her body going rigid as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over her. You don't let up, keeping your fingers pumping into her, your mouth latched onto her clit as you ride out her orgasm with her.

You can taste her release flooding your mouth, the tangy-sweet musk coating your tongue. It's addictive, and you find yourself greedily lapping up every drop, not wanting to waste a single precious essence. You can feel Cassandra twitching and shuddering beneath you, her body overwhelmed with sensation.

You take a moment to admire the blissed-out expression on Cassandra's face as she comes down from her high, her hair damp and tangled against her temples, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. She's beautiful like this, thoroughly ravished and sated, and you feel a swell of usual pride at being the cause of her pleasure.

Slowly, tenderly, you press soft kisses along her inner thighs, your lips trailing up her body like a map of your desire. You pay homage to each peak and valley of her form, from the sharp jut of her hipbones, to the soft swell of her belly, to the gentle slope of her breasts. Cassandra shivers beneath your ministrations, her skin pebbling with goosebumps in the wake of your lips.

You finally reach her mouth, hovering over her with a smug grin.

"You did so well, Cassandra," you murmur against her lips, your voice low and approving. "So perfect, taking everything I gave you and begging for more." You trail your fingers down her side, marveling at the way her muscles twitch and flex beneath your touch, responsive and wanting. You can feel her arching into you, her body seeking contact, skin on skin friction.

Your mouth slants over hers, capturing her lips in a deep, languid kiss. You sip at her bottom lip, your tongue darting out to trace the seam of her mouth. Cassandra yields immediately, her lips parting on a gasp that you quickly plunder with your tongue. You kiss her deeply, thoroughly, pouring all of your praise and adoration into the press of your lips against hers.

When you finally break away, Cassandra is breathless, her pupils blown wide in her flushed face.

“Turn over for me,” you muttered, gently taking her arm and guiding her to roll over onto her hands and knees, putting her ass on display for you.

You take a moment to admire the view, your eyes roving over the gentle curve of her back, the swell of her ass presented invitingly for your touch. You can see your handprints blooming across her skin, reminders of your claim over her, your mark of possession.

Slowly, almost gently, you bring your hand down on one upturned cheek, the sharp slap ringing out in the charged air of the room. Cassandra gasps, her hips jerking forward at the sudden sting. But you don't give her time to recover, instead laying down a steady rhythm of strikes, each blow sending her back arching higher, her nails scrabbling for purchase against the sheets.

By the time you're done, Cassandra is a wreck, her ass red and glowing beneath your touch, her thighs quaking with the effort of holding herself up.

You position yourself behind her, one hand on the small of her back, the other guiding your hard shaft to her entrance. With a deep breath, you sink into her welcoming heat, groaning at the way her walls stretch and mold around you. You take her slowly, savoring the feel of her silken passage enveloping you, inch by exquisite inch.

When you finally bottom out, you still for a moment, burying your face in the crook of her neck, breathing in the scent of her hair. "Fuck, Cassandra, you feel incredible," you rasp, your voice rough with pleasure. "So good, so perfect."

To drive home your point, you punctuate your words with a slow, deep roll of your hips. Cassandra moans, her back bowing, pushing her ass more fully against your lap.

"Please," she whimpers, "More. I need more."

You begin to move, your thrusts deep and sure, each stroke reaching that sweet spot deep within her that makes her see stars. Your hand drifts between her legs, your fingers finding her swollen clit and rubbing in firm, steady circles. Cassandra's cries of pleasure mingle with the slick sounds of your joining, the noises obscene and erotic in the quiet of the room.

You nip and kiss along the elegant line of her neck and shoulder, worshipping the skin with lips and teeth. "That's it, take what you need," you urge, your voice a low, seductive purr. "Take my cock, let me feel you come apart." Each roll of your hips brings you deeper into her welcoming heat, your dick grinding deliciously against her front wall.

Your pace remains languid, each smooth thrust savored, prolonging the blissful glide of your dick in and out of her pussy. You can feel every inch of her fluttering channel, the velvety walls gripping you like a silk glove, as if trying to keep you deep inside for all of eternity.

There is no rush, no urgency in your movements, only the primal need to experience this connection as fully as possible. You are drunk on the feel of her, the scent of her skin, the taste of her on your tongue. This moment of intimacy is all that exists in your world, Cassandra beneath you, surrounding you, completing you in a way you never knew possible.

Without warning, you change the pace, your hips snapping forward to bury yourself to the hilt in one hard thrust. Cassandra's sharp cry of surprise quickly gives way to a low moan as you set a brutal rhythm, your dick pounding into her willing flesh with bruising force. Each slam of your hips against her rear sends ripples through the supple globes, the obscene sight only spurring you on.

You can feel your orgasm rapidly approaching, the pleasure cresting with each pass of your cock along her front wall. You reach around, your fingers delving between her legs to find her aching clit. You pinch the swollen bud roughly, sending sparks of pain and pleasure shooting through her. Cassandra thrashes beneath you, her back arching, her fingers clawing at the sheets. She's babbling now, a constant stream of moans and pleas falling from her lips.

You fist your hand in her hair, wrenching her head back as you continue your relentless assault on her body. The change in position allows you to sink even deeper into her welcoming heat if that were even possible. Cassandra's moans turn to wails, her throat hoarse from the force of her cries.

You can feel your release rushing toward you like a runaway train, your core drawing up tight inside your body. You're close, so close, and you know it won't be long before Cassandra falls over the edge with you. You can feel her starting to spasm around you, her walls fluttering wildly as her orgasm takes hold.

With a final, vicious twist of your fingers on her clit, you send her hurtling into bliss. Her back bows, her body going rigid as ecstasy consumes her. Her cunt clamps down on you like a vice, trying to wring your own release from your body with its greedy grip.

"That’s it, that's it, let go," you groan, your voice strained with the effort of holding back your own release. You pound into her mercilessly, each thrust aimed at pushing her further into the abyss of ecstasy. "Cum for me, Cassandra. I want to feel you coming undone on my cock."

As if your words are a direct order, Cassandra's orgasm crashes into her again, her walls spasming wildly around your pistoning cock. You can feel the flood of her release gushing out to coat your thighs, the proof of her pleasure dripping down to pool on the sheets below. But you don't stop, don't let up, knowing she has more to give. You set a punishing pace, each stroke hitting that sweet spot inside her that makes her scream. Your grip on her hips is bruising, holding her in place as you use her willing body for your own gratification.

You slam into Cassandra with bruising force, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust. You're losing yourself to the base instincts of pleasure, chasing only the feel of her slick, tight walls fluttering around your throbbing dick. You push her further into the mattress, the pillows scattering across the floor in your wake.

Cassandra's moans are getting higher, more desperate, her body shaking under the onslaught of sensation. "I can't- I can't take it!" She sobs, her fingers scrabbling for purchase on the sweat-slick sheets. But you're beyond hearing, focused only on driving her higher, pushing her toward another shattering climax.

You can feel your own release building at the base of your spine, your balls drawing up tight against your body. You're so close, teetering on the edge of oblivion.

With a last, vicious thrust, you hit that spot inside her that sends her careening over the edge. Cassandra's back arches, her body going rigid as her orgasm crashes into her with the force of a tsunami. Her pussy clamps down on you like a vice, the rhythmic pulsing milking your cock as she squirts around you, her release gushing out to coat your thighs and pool on the sheets below.

The sensation is too much, pushing you past the point of no return. With a hoarse shout, you spill yourself deep inside her, your seed jetting into her waiting womb in thick, copious ropes. You collapse onto her, your spent cock pulsing inside her fluttering channel as you both float down from the dizzying heights of pleasure.

You flip you both onto your sides, pulling Cassandra flush against your chest, your cock still nestled snugly inside her. You can feel your combined releases slowly starting to seep from her, trickling down her thighs to make a sticky mess of the sheets. The sensation makes your spent cock give an interested twitch.

You begin to move slowly, languidly, each roll of your hips sinking you back into her velvety heat. Your hand roams her curves, tracing patterns on her hip, her thigh, exploring every dip and swell of her body. "You're perfect, you know that?" you murmur against her temple, your words a rough purr in the quiet of the room.

Your praise, combined with the gentle glide of your cock along her hypersensitive walls, has Cassandra shivering and gasping. She's overstimulated, and sensitive, but she can't bring herself to tell you to stop.

You take your time, drawing out each delicious slide of your shaft in and out of her welcoming heat. This isn't about the chase, the frantic race to the finish. This is about savoring, about imprinting every moment into your memory so you never forget the perfection of her body against yours.

You press open-mouthed kisses along her shoulder, tasting the salt of her skin, breathing in the unique scent that is uniquely Cassandra. Your words of praise are punctuated with the soft, wet sounds of your coupling, the obscene noises making your spent cock give a valiant twitch of interest. "So good for me," you groan, your hand slipping down to cup her breast, to tease the tight bud of her nipple.

“Look at me,” you reach out, your fingers gently tilting her chin up to look at you. Your eyes meet, gazes locking in an intimate dance. You lean forward, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth, the gentle touch at odds with your still-pumping hips. Cassandra's eyelids flutter closed, her breathing hitching as she melts into you, into the cocoon of warmth and security you spin around her.

You can feel yourself starting to coax another orgasm from you again but you don't rush, don't seek to increase your pace. You simply roll your hips in languorous figure-eights, grinding against that sensitive spot inside her that makes her toes curl and her mouth fall open on silent gasps. You're making love to her, in the purest, most basic sense. Body and soul, mind and heart, all intertwined in this timeless dance of passion.

You both reach the pinnacle of bliss simultaneously, your releases washing over you like tidal waves. Cassandra's walls clench around your dick, milking you for all you're worth as spurt after spurt of your seed pumps into her welcoming pussy. You cling to her, anchoring yourself against the overwhelming pleasure with desperate fingers digging into her hips.

Through the haze of your own ecstasy, you manage to murmur words of praise, your voice hoarse but tender. "That's it, cum for me, sweetheart. Let me feel you. You're so beautiful like this."

Despite the intensity of your shared climax, you keep your pace steady, continuing to slowly roll your hips in smooth glides as you ride out the aftershocks. You hold her close, your heart pounding against your ribs in tandem with hers as you both gasp for breath in the aftermath of your mutual rapture.

You can feel your softening dick slipping from her body, a rush of your combined fluids gushing out to mingle with the damp sheets. The evidence of your coupling is everywhere, from the red marks on her skin to the slight soreness in her well-used muscles. But in that moment, as you both cling to each other, basking in the warm afterglow of your passion, none of that matters. All that exists is the two of you, together in perfect harmony. You press a soft kiss to her temple, breathing in the scent of her hair.

"You okay?" you ask softly, your tone more question than statement. Cassandra hums in response, her fingers drawing lazy patterns on your chest.

"Mmhm. That was...intense." You can hear the smile in her voice, the contentment. It makes your heart swell, a fierce, possessive pride flooding your veins. Satisfied and sated.

The only sound is the soft rise and fall of your chests as you both struggle to catch your breath. The moment is peaceful, content, two souls intertwined in the aftermath of passion. But like all good things, the tranquility can't last forever.

A shadow passes over Cassandra's face, her eyes growing distant. "We can't do this again," she says, her voice flat and emotionless. It's an old refrain, one you've heard countless times before. And like all the times before, you know it's a lie. A lie she tells herself to protect her heart, to ward off the vulnerability of truly opening up to someone else.

You don’t call her on it, simply pull her closer, tucking her head under your chin and stroking her hair. "Mmhm," you respond, your tone placating. "Of course, we won't."

"I'm serious, we can't do this again." The words are hollow, devoid of conviction. "I have a little girl, a husband—a family at home. I shouldn't be here, with you." Cassandra's voice wavers, her resolve crumbling under the weight of your assured gaze.

"Come on now, don't start that again." You nuzzle the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair. The scent of home. "You belong here, with me. It's where you were always meant to be." She knows you're right. No matter how much she might want to believe her own protestations, she always finds her way back to you in the end.

Your words are soft, but there's an undercurrent of steel beneath the tenderness. You know you have her, that it's only a matter of time before she's crawling back into your bed, into your arms.

Cassandra pulls away, disentangling herself from your embrace with a soft wince. She rises from the bed, gathering her discarded clothes and pulling them on with mechanical movements, as if she's done this a thousand times before. You can see the guilt weighing heavily on her shoulders, the shame twisting her features into an ugly mask. "I'm sorry," she whispers, the words choked and tight. "I'm so sorry. What I'm doing...it's not right. I have to go back."

Tears prick at the corners of her eyes, but she blinks them back, refusing to let them fall. You watch her, your expression impassive, knowing it's all just talk, that she'll be back in your bed sooner rather than later. But you let her go through the motions, for now.

You allow her little performance, knowing it's just a phase. She'll be back, as she always is. Drawn to you like a moth to a flame, no matter how much she might try to resist. You witness her silent struggle, the inner turmoil written plainly on her face as she warily eyes the door. Part of you wants to pull her back, to wrap her up in your arms and never let go. But you know that's not the way to win this game. No, you need to play the long game, wait for her to come to you of her own accord.

It's a test, in a way. To see if she can resist the temptation you represent, if her morals are stronger than her lust for you. But you're not concerned. You've done this dance before, and you know it's only a matter of time before she's back in your bed, begging for your touch.

#arcane #arcane league of legends x reader #reader insert #arcane league of legends #cassandra kiramman #cassandra kiramman x reader #cassandra kiramman x you #arcane smut

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realcube · 2 months ago

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dilf december

day eight ⭑ tetsuro kuroo ⭑ sugar daddy x reader

tw: age gap & slight angst/conflict

midnight. he must think you're a joke.

lately, you and kuroo have had issues pertaining to him coming home from work far too late. he is supposed to finish at 5PM but most days he comes home around one or even two in the morning. which is a major issue considering it means you never get to spend any time with him, as he falls asleep as soon as he gets home then wakes up again at 8AM sharp and heads straight to work. he won't even entertain the idea of sitting down to have breakfast with you, he's always in a hurry to leave.

thus, you had to put your foot down and say that if he didn't start coming home at a reasonable time, you'd send him packing. at first he thought you were being unreasonable but you explained that you understood that he had overtime to do and sometimes he wants to socialise with his colleagues after hours, so that is why you gave him until 11PM to do so. six extra hours after his scheduled hours conclude should be plenty.

he still thought you were being a bit overbearing but he eventually conceded, not liking to see you upset for too long. he agreed that he would start coming home at 11PM sharp so the two of you could spend more time together during the week.

however, you were standing by the door at 11.30PM and from peering out the front window you could see his car had yet to pull up into the driveway. naturally, by midnight, you had packed the majority of his clothes and essential personal belongings into suitcases, and had hauled them into the foyer.

it was around 1AM when he finally arrived, and you were alerted by the jangling of his keys in the front door as to his presence. when he entered, you were already waiting patiently in your crimson evening gown, standing with your arms crossed in front of all his shit.

"hi, my angel." he cooed, immediately trying to diffuse the piping hot tension in the air.

but to no avail, as you quickly hiss back, "here's all your stuff. take it and go."

he approached you with his arms extended for a hug, or to pull you in for a kiss, saying "c'mon, baby, what's all this for? y'know i—" but you jerk away on reflex.

"take it and get out." you remain firm in your stance, standing behind one of the particularly large suitcases and using it as a barrier between the two of you.

"get out of my own house, huh?" he replies, quirking a brow.

"it's not your house anymore." you state bluntly.

he nods, clicking his tongue, "right. do you want to tell me why i'm being kicked out of my house?" his temper is calm and witty, despite everything, which almost pissed you off even more.

"you know exactly why! because i asked you to be home by eleven, but here you are at one in the morning. and you didn't even text or call me to say you were going to be late; it's like you don't even care that i'm at home thinking about you." your voice trails off as you notice kuroo's wavering, "are you even listening to me?!"

now he fixes it and meets your eye, "of course, princess. i just think you look so beautiful in that red dress. d'ya want me to get it for you in blue as well?"

your eyes widen, as you clutch the fabric of the gown, which finishes at your mid-thigh, "or how about an emerald green? i think it would be very flattering if it was mo—" your excited look drops into a harrowing glare as it dawns on you what scheme he is trying to employ, "you can't distract me by talking about clothes."

he frowns and puts his hand over his heart solemnly, bowing his head, "i apologise, i shouldn't do that." he states, then glances up at you with his head still lowered, and adds, "but how about an emerald necklace to match your new dress? we can go to the jeweller next week if you l—"

"kuroo!" you roar, and he instantly straightens himself out, as you point him to the exit, "go!"

since bribery hasn't worked, now he'll have to resort to begging. "c'mon, (y/n), you can't kick me out! how's an old guy like me going to survive on the streets?" he plead, though the shit-eatting grin on his face really reduced the believability of his performace.

"you'll have to make it work, i guess." you huff while shrugging. "maybe you can find shelter in a brothel."

he sighs, realising how persistent you are about this, "i'm sorry, (y/n). i really am, i just get so caught up in work, y'know. and i want to do the best job i can so i can afford to get you nice things. who is going to be paying for your ¥2,000,000 handbags and purses?" his tone his half-serious and half-joking, and that's how he always finds a way to make you giggle even during conflict.

"well, if it means getting to see you more often, i guess i could go without buying anymore handbags for a while." you sheepishly press your lips into a line, while kuroo gazes up at you with a faux-mystified expression, eyes filled with wonder and admiration.

"really? you would do that? how selfless."

you roll your eyes and he just laughs, finally able to throw an arm around your shoulders and pull you in for a tight embrace. "what a sweetheart you are, making sacrifices for us. and i'll try to avoid scheduling meetings for the afternoon so i can get all my work done before 5PM, that way i can get home on time to see my girl. how does that sound?"

"good." you mumble against his chest, being muffled by his pressed shift that smells strongly of musky designer perfume. "and you need to text me when you're running late."

"done." he says confidently, finally allowing you escape him firm hold, "so, can i unpack my bags?"

"hmm," you stroke your chin with your thumb, pondering until you reach a suitable verdict, "you can take the bags up to our room, but i need to see if you stay true to your word for the rest of the week before you unpack."

he nods, flashing you his signature charming smile, "that sounds fair."

#kuroo x y/n #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsuro fluff #tetsuro kuroo #haikyuu x you #dilf⭑december

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tallulah477 · 1 year ago

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Birthday Gift

Kinkmas Day 2: Titty Fucking

Pairing: Prince!Human!Neteyam x Maid!Human!Reader

Warnings: AgedUp!Neteyam, Tit fucking, Slight dirty talk, Slight possessive/obsessive behavior and language, Cumming on chest/tits

Word Count: 2.3K

A/N: Dedicated to @tsewtx for creating this fantastic AU. Love you, Wren! Catch up on Royalty AU here!

Summary: (Royalty AU) Prince Neteyam receives a lot of fine gifts for his birthday, but the only thing he really wants is you on your knees and your perfect tits around his cock.

Prince Neteyam always receives many gifts for his birthday.

He is recipient to the finest jewelry, made from precious metals and adorned with a multitude of diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires. Amongst the small mountains of gold and silver crafted pieces, hang other pieces of lavish clothing - soft, silk dress shirts in multiple colors, intricate waistcoats that look like they took a lifetime to create.

A new pair of leather riding boots that would look good on him, but that look amazing on you.

“C’mon, y/n,” He mumbles, dark eyes glittering with desire as they trace along your standing figure. “Show me the new things I own,”

You stand in front of him, clad only in an unbuttoned emerald green silk shirt that falls halfway down your thighs and the leather boots that hug your legs until just below the knee, the little buckles on the sides clanking with each step you take as you walk uncertainty towards him, giving him a small twirl when he silently moves his pointer finger in a circle.

He grins at your hesitance. So many years of doing this with him, being his good girl, his whore, the perfect little maid for his majesty - and you’re still so shy, like somehow you’re not 100% positive that he's completely and utterly obsessed with you.

“You don’t have to be bashful,” He says, leaning forwards so he can rest his forearms on his thighs as he gazes at the expanse of soft skin on display, both between the gap of the shirt hem and boots as well as the tempting sliver of smooth, markable canvas shown between the open button down. “You know you’re the most beautiful woman alive.”

The flush on your face and the way you can’t meet his eyes make his cock even harder in his trousers. The hard length pushes at the tight material, threatening to burst the seams. Neteyam stands, eager to be closer to you, to touch you, and relieve some of the pressure. He crosses the room, tall figure towering over yours as he stares down at you, eyes filled with heat as he grips your jaw in his large hand, possessively.

“You look so pretty in my clothing,” He murmurs, tilting your head up so your plump lips brush against his.

“Thank you, your highness,”

Neteyam’s lips are warm against yours as he kisses you, the soft press of his mouth against yours is enough to make your breathing stutter no matter how many times it’s happened before. His lips slide across your cheek, laying gentle kiss after gentle kiss along the heated skin as he makes his way to your ear. His breath is hot against the curve as he breathes, “Are you going to be a good girl for me and give me my present?”

You nod, voice struggling to manifest when he nibbles on the shell of your ear, and you’re just able to force out a squeaky, “Yes, highness,”

He kisses you again, this time a little harder, a little more needy. His free hand moves to brush the soft material of the shirt to the side, revealing one of your breasts to his hungry gaze and brushing his thumb over your hard nipple, before pulling back and biting his bottom lip with a wicked smirk.

“Undress me then,”

His long fingers tease along the sensitive skin of your thigh as you work carefully on undoing the clasps of his shirt. Your delicate hands push the material off of his broad shoulders, revealing the toned expanse of his chest and your eyes can’t help the way they zero in on the excited rise and fall of his chest and the muscles that shift under his skin. The necklace around his neck shifts in time with his breaths, the small thin golden band he had made for you years ago threaded through the chain lays next to his heart - exactly where it should be, he tells you, until he’s able to put it on your finger officially.

The metal glistens in the low light of the room, contrasting beautifully against his dark skin, but your eyes are pulled away from the sight when his hand cups your jaw again.

“Going a bit slow, aren’t we?” He chuckles, lips brushing against yours with each word. “You know it’s not fair to tease the birthday boy.”

His hands grip yours, warm palms dragging your own across the strong muscles of his chest and down the flat planes of his stomach until they reach the waistband of his pants. He keeps one of your hands there, and your fingertips gently caress the skin just above the fabric. He guides your other hand down further until you’re cupping his bulge, feeling the thick hardness in your hand.

“Feel how hard I am for you?” He murmurs, hand tightening around yours to make your fingers curl around him through the taut material. “Need you so much.”

“I’ll take good care of you,” You promise.

Your hands expertly work at the fastenings on his trousers, his length jumping out and slapping against his belly, long and thick and beautiful in its glory. His cock is familiar to you - intimately familiar in the way that every part of your body knows the shape and size of it by memory. Every ridge, vein, and curve - engraved in your brain and heart.

He prefers to fuck you. Is obsessed with the feeling of your tight heat wrapped around his cock like a warm hug he never wants to be released from. He loves to feel the way your pussy clenches around his length, wants to feel your nails raking across his back as he ruts into you, hear your pretty mewls when he pounds your cervix before he floods your insides with his release.

He wants you on your back, or on your stomach, or on your side - it doesn’t matter. He wants you anyway he can have you, just as long as it’s you with him, crying his name as you cream all over his cock.

And he’ll get that. Soon. But for now, he wants this.

He kicks his pants off, suddenly impatient as he stares down at you. He pulls you towards him, catching you off guard with the force of his tug as he sits on the chaise at the foot of his bed, and you fall onto his lap with a shocked yelp.

“Teyam!” You gasp, and his nickname falls from your lips without you even catching it.

“Be a good girl and give me what I want, okay?” He grunts, ripping the silk shirt from your body and leaving you entirely bare to his hungry gaze, save for the boots still hugging your legs. “On your knees. Now.”

You rush to comply - the firm, authoritative timbre of his voice sending shivers down your spine as you slide off of his lap and onto the floor. Neteyam leans back against his bed, the weight of his body supported on his forearms as his upper half lounges against the soft covers. His thighs are spread wide to accommodate your position between them and his cock pulses at the view.

It’s not a new sight, but it’s still his favorite sight.

You on your knees, staring up at him with those eyes, batting your long lashes at him with a combined look of shy maiden and sex vixen that makes him want to slide his hand in your hair and push your face into the ground so he can bury himself inside you from behind until the sounds you're making match the expression on your face. But no - he has a plan. He made you promise to give him whatever he wanted for his birthday, and he wants this.

“Come on, y/n,” He says, and he’s trying to be calm, trying to stay the golden, level headed prince that he should be, but even he can hear the whine in his voice. “Put them on me. Want to feel them,”

His breath feels like it's stuck in his lungs when you kneel up, hands cupping the sides of your chest as you lean closer and closer to his throbbing erection. His shirt and boots are not the only thing he’s put you in tonight. The fine jewelry of intricately made necklaces and rings he’s received throughout the day also adorn your perfect body. Three very expensive necklaces of varying lengths hang from your delicate neck, the regal blue stone on the longest one hanging beautifully just above the valley of your breasts.

The feel of your tits enveloping his length has him reeling, the soft pillowy mounds molding around his cock like they were made to cradle him between them. Your hands hold your breasts together tightly around him, the rings on your fingers shining in the light are a variety of mixed metals and glittering jewels, and he decides then and there that he never wants to wear them himself. He only ever wants to see the beautiful jewels on you.

It’s good, so good - the feel of your breasts massaging his heated length. But he needs more.

“Spit on it,” He groans, and it’s taking all he has to not just fuck up into the tight space. There’s already a wet line along the opening of the valley from his precum and he’s obsessed with the way your wet skin glistens in the low light of the room. “Spit on it, y/n. Get it all wet and slippery so I can fuck them.”

The sound that rips out of his throat when you do is almost a whimper. His cock twitches when you let the glob of saliva fall from your tongue and onto the flushed tip, the spit coating the head and running down the sides and into the warm and newly wet embrace of your breasts.

You do it again, adding more wetness to the mix to help with the slide as you glide yourself up and down his shaft. Neteyam lets out a punched out moan, hands balling into fists next to him as his head tilts back in pleasure, eyes fluttering closed for just a second before his head snaps back up, intent on not missing a second of the breathtaking image in front of him.

Your nipples are just peeking out from the cage of your fingers, two hard buds pointed tantalizingly between your pointer and middle fingers and he mourns the fact that he can’t both fuck your tits and suck on your nipples at the same time. His hips kick up, abs flexing as he rocks into the tight space, and the tip of his cock nudges the blue gem of the necklace with each thrust.

“So good for me,” He moans, reaching out to run his thumb along your bottom lip. He lets out a shuddering breath when your tongue comes out to swipe against the pad of his thumb. “Yeah, do that. Put your tongue to good use,”

Neteyam’s eyes roll back into his head at the first feel of your tongue on his swollen tip. He rocks faster, hips now completely off the chaise as he fucks your tits with vigor, your tongue lolling out to lap against the head every time it reappears back through the cradle of your breasts.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” He grunts. “So perfect for me.”

The sensation of his cock tapping against the wet muscle is driving him wild, and he can’t help but watch in wicked satisfaction as your own eyes hood in pleasure at the taste of his precum coating your tongue. He knows you, knows you better than anyone else ever will or ever could. He knows that if he were to sink his fingers between your thighs, you would be dripping for him.

“You were made for me,” He breathes. He can feel his stomach tightening as his orgasm barrels closer and closer. “Made just for me. Mine. My good girl, my whore.”

You hum in agreement, nodding enthusiastically as your responding moan vibrates through your tongue and against his cock. But it’s not enough. He needs the words - needs to hear them confirmed in your sweet, soft voice.

“Say it,” He demands. His mind is reeling, desperately trying to decide where he wants to cum. He wants to mark you everywhere - wants to cum on your pretty tits, paint them white with his release and watch as it drips down your gorgeous body. He wants to cum on your face, marking your beautiful features as his just so he can have an excuse to take you to the large tub across the room and wash your entire body clean, only to dirty you up again before you’ve even stepped out of it. He wants to lace his fingers in your hair and drag your head down, sheathing his cock in the warm embrace of your throat and mark you from the inside - it would be less messy, and you wouldn’t be able to wash it off afterwards. “Say it, y/n,”

“I’m yours,” You whisper, thighs unconsciously trying to rub together as you desperately try to keep up your pace and the pressure of your chest against his length. “Your whore,”

“F-fuck!” Neteyam whimpers. “Fuck, fuck,”

In the end, he chooses your tits. He stands abruptly, nudging you back slightly so he can stand properly in front of you and finishes himself off, fisting himself furiously as you gaze up at him with those innocent eyes of yours that just make him want to wreck you even more. He cums with a guttural groan, ropes of white shooting from his swollen tip and landing directly on your heaving breasts.

You look stunning - like a beautiful, fucked out goddess brought to Earth just for him to have and cherish. His cock twitches in interest as he continues to stare at you, and your hooded eyes look up at your Prince in awe.

If you thought you were getting any kind of a break, you were wrong.

**Special thanks to @neteyamsyawntu for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @anastasia1777-blog @localjasmine @tsewtx @skywonder @neteyamswillow

#𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔 ✎#Avatar12DaysofKinkmas #royalty au #prince!neteyam #neteyam smut #neteyam x reader smut #human!neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x female reader #human!neteyam x human!reader

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m4rv3l-girl · 1 month ago

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Since you smashed my other request👏🏻 I was wondering if you could do this one as its nearing Christmas🫶🏻

Reader keeps asking bucky what he wants for Christmas but bucky keeps saying nothing, reader is stuck for ideas then she comes up with this idea; https://www.facebook.com/share/r/AS8RZtHRrSf9KTre/

She's gets all dolled up like she's from the 40s and does a photoshoot and puts a picture in a pocket watch for him and bucky opens it and is shocked and tears up alittle because its part of his past and future all in one🥹🫶🏻

A Timeless Christmas

Warmings: None, just utter fluff.

The first flakes of snow dusted the streets of Brooklyn. Y/N hustled through the shops, her scarf pulled snug around her neck.

Christmas was around the corner, and while the lights and music filled the city with cheer, she felt a pang of frustration. For weeks, she had been trying to coax an answer out of Bucky about what he wanted for Christmas, but his responses ranged from vague to downright unhelpful.

“I don’t need anything, Doll,” he’d said the last time she asked, his steel-blue eyes soft but unwavering. “You’re all I need.”

Sweet? Absolutely. Helpful? Not in the slightest. Y/N loved Bucky with all her heart, but the man was impossible to shop for. He wasn’t materialistic and didn’t care for modern gadgets. She wanted to give him something meaningful, something that bridged the gap between the man he used to be and the man he was now. The question was, what?

Later that evening, she flopped onto the couch with her phone, scrolling aimlessly through social media. A video popped up in her feed: a woman dressed in vintage 1940s attire, complete with pin curls and a red lip, posing for an old-fashioned photoshoot. Y/N paused, her heart skipping a beat as an idea took root. It was perfect. A tribute to the time Bucky grew up in, combined with a personal touch just for him.

Y/N’s mind raced as she began to plan. She’d need the right outfit, hair, and makeup to pull it off. And a photographer who could capture the look she was going for. Excitement bubbled in her chest as she realized how much he’d love it—a reminder of his past, but with her in it, blending their worlds together.

The next week was a whirlwind. Y/N scoured thrift stores and online shops for the perfect 1940s-style dress: a deep emerald green tea dress with a nipped waist and a flowing skirt. She paired it with seamed stockings and vintage kitten heels. A delicate pearl necklace and matching earrings completed the look. She booked an appointment with a local salon that specialized in vintage hairstyles and found a photographer whose studio was decked out with props from the era.

The day of the photoshoot, Y/N felt a mix of nerves and excitement. The stylist pinned her hair into perfect victory rolls, and the makeup artist gave her a classic red lip and winged eyeliner. When she looked in the mirror, she hardly recognized herself. She looked like she’d stepped out of a time machine.

“You look incredible,” the photographer said as she adjusted the lighting. The studio was set up with a retro armchair, an old phonograph, and a small Christmas tree adorned with tinsel. “This is going to be stunning.”

Y/N posed shyly at first, but as the session went on, she grew more comfortable. She laughed as the photographer encouraged her to twirl in her dress, the skirt flaring out around her.

By the end of the session, she felt like a Hollywood star.

When the photos were ready, Y/N selected her favorite: a shot of her sitting in the armchair, one leg crossed over the other, her hands delicately holding a wrapped gift. Her smile was soft, her gaze slightly averted, as if she were waiting for someone—waiting for him. She had the image printed and carefully placed inside a vintage-style pocket watch she’d found online. The watch was silver, with intricate engravings on the outside. It was timeless, just like the gift.

Christmas morning arrived with a blanket of fresh snow covering the city. Y/N woke early, the nerves from her surprise making her stomach flutter. She and Bucky exchanged small gifts by the tree, the living room glowing with the warm light of the fairy lights. He’d gotten her a soft cashmere scarf in her favorite color and a book she’d been eyeing for months. She couldn’t stop smiling, but she kept glancing at the small box under the tree, waiting for the right moment.

Finally, after their second cup of coffee, she handed him the box.

“What’s this?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he took it from her.

“Just open it,” she said, unable to keep the grin off her face.

Bucky unwrapped the box carefully, his large hands surprisingly delicate. When he opened the lid and saw the pocket watch, his breath hitched. He ran his fingers over the engravings before pressing the clasp to open it. The photo inside made him freeze.

“Y/N…” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. His thumb brushed over the image, as if he couldn’t quite believe it was real. “Doll, this is…” He trailed off, blinking rapidly as his eyes glistened.

“Do you like it?” she asked softly, her own heart in her throat.

He looked up at her, his expression a mixture of awe and tenderness. “Like it? I… I don’t even know what to say. It’s perfect.”

Bucky closed the watch carefully, holding it in his hand as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Then he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. “You didn’t have to do all this for me,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “But I… Thank you. It’s like… it’s like you took my past and made it part of my future. I don’t know how you do it, Doll. You always know exactly what I need, even when I don’t.”

She smiled against his shoulder, tears pricking her own eyes. “You deserve it, Bucky. You deserve everything.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, the pocket watch resting safely in his hand. Later, when they went for a walk through the snowy streets, he carried it in his coat pocket, his thumb occasionally brushing over it, a silent reminder of the woman who had brought light and love into his life.

As the day went on, the watch found a home on the bedside table, right next to a framed photo of the two of them. Bucky caught himself glancing at it often, the image inside grounding him in a way he hadn’t felt in decades. The lines between his past and present blurred, leaving him feeling whole for the first time in years.

That evening, as they curled up on the couch, Bucky tilted his head back to look at Y/N. “You really are somethin’ else, you know that?”

She laughed softly, resting her head on his shoulder. “You’re worth it.”

His hand found hers, fingers intertwining. “You gave me more than a gift today. You gave me a piece of myself I thought I lost forever. I’ll never forget this, Doll. Never.”

She squeezed his hand, her smile widening. “Merry Christmas, Bucky.”

“Merry Christmas, My best girl.”

The snow continued to fall outside, filling the city with a peaceful silence. But inside their small apartment, the warmth of their love filled every corner much like the man who held it so dearly in his heart.

——————————————————————————————————

Hope you enjoyed this one too, Dear! Have a great Christmas! 🎄🎁

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #marvel #bucky fluff #Christmas with Bucky

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 2 years ago

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Would That I

Pairing: Otto Hightower x f!reader Warnings: Smut, age gap, keeping it in the family. Word count: ~1.1k Summary: Otto makes sure his pretty, young wife has absolutely everything she desires. Based on this request.

She is smitten with Otto the moment she lays eyes on him. Arriving in King’s Landing she anticipates a week of uninteresting jousts and tedious formalities, but as she sits in the stands, thoroughly uninterested by the spectacle of the two knights charging towards each other on horseback, her eye is drawn to the Hand of the King. He is older than her by at least three decades, but he is refined, tall and ruggedly handsome. While the potential suitors within the capital are seemingly endless, none of them compare to Otto Hightower

Using every excuse within her arsenal over the coming days, she seizes all opportunities to see and speak to him, and is delighted to find he is every bit as charming as he is handsome. He titters at her jokes and she is enamoured by the way his eyes crinkle as he smiles, the green of his iris appearing to sparkle as he does so. His voice is deep, yet velvety smooth and she hangs on his every word. He is intelligent, diplomatic and sharp as Valyrian steel.

Her desire for him intensifies as the days press on, and emboldened by one too many cups of Dornish red following a feast one evening, she leans forward and presses her lips to his, her heart fluttering as she feels the warmth of his large palm cup her cheek as he returns the gesture.

“I have not felt like this about a woman in years,” He tells her.

She smiles at his words. She has not felt like this about a man ever.

There is no need for her to leave come the end of the week, King’s Landing is now her home, and after a hastily put together ceremony in the Sept, Otto Hightower is her husband.

He surprises her with his virility on their wedding night, wringing peak after peak from her pliant body, leaving her exhausted but with a satisfying ache between her thighs the following morning. Otto spoils her beyond comprehension, she wants for nothing and has the finest of everything; jewels from Lys, gowns of Myrish silk and lace, wines from the Arbor. He is diligent in keeping her sated in every aspect of their marriage.

It is obvious his daughter, Alicent, does not approve, though she does not say it, and who can blame her? She has to admit that she’d be annoyed too if her father chose to marry someone younger than his own daughter.

It is not Alicent’s silent disapproval that bothers her, however, it is how the ladies of the court love to gossip. It is not unusual in Westeros for men to wed women much younger than themselves, yet she finds herself at the center of all manner of prying questions regarding the nature of her marriage to Otto. She supposes it is because of the responsibility he holds as the King’s Hand.

“What is it you see in him?” One bold lady dares to ask.

She bites her lip, considering her answer. She longs to say that it sends a thrill through her body to wait upon her knees for him, gazing up at him as he presses the head of himself past her lips. Such talk would cause a scandal, however, so she gives a tight smile and says that he is tall.

“Surely that can’t be all?”

“No, he is handsome too,” She says wistfully, thinking about how he gazes up at her from between her thighs, the softness of his beard tickling her soft flesh, the sensation causing her to clench around nothing.

“Is he kind to you?”

“Oh, yes, Otto is extraordinarily generous!” There is a particular necklace that Otto insists she wears, with nothing else to accompany it, whenever they are alone in their marital chambers. It sits tight against her throat, adorned with emeralds that gleam in the same shade of green as the Hightower house colours. It likely cost a small fortune, but in his eyes nothing is too good for her, not when he is buried to the hilt inside of her.

“Is that your favourite quality of his?”

“No,” She muses. “I adore his dedication to his family.”

The combined heat from the fireplace and lit candles that sit upon every surface of the bedchamber make the room stiflingly hot. She feels sweat trickle down her neck, disappearing beneath the emerald choker that sits snugly around her neck, every green gemstone glittering in the dim light as she rolls her hips against Otto’s.

His grip on her waist is vice-like, every sensation heightened by warmth, as the length of him nudges against a spot inside of her that makes her tense with every undulation of her body. She feels taut, pulled tighter than a bow string until it eventually snaps, sending her headlong into oblivion, waves of ecstasy rolling through her as she collapses against her husband’s chest, triggering his own release.

His fingers stroke gently over her dampened skin as he holds her close. Already, renewed desire throbs between her legs.

“Are you satisfied, my dear?” Otto asks softly.

“I will never have enough of you, my love,” Comes her playful response.

“That is not quite what I had in mind.”

“Oh?” She lifts her head, eyeing him curiously.

“I have seen the way that you and Aemond look at each other, I am no fool.”

She laughs softly, shaking her head. “It is nothing, I can assure you.”

“I do not mind,” He rises from the bed, pulling on a robe. “I wish for my darling wife to be satisfied, to have everything she desires, so I shall make it so.”

He opens the chamber door, uttering “you can come in now” and her eyes widen in disbelief when she sees Otto’s second oldest grandson hovering in the doorway. It seems outrageous to her that he would suggest such a thing, yet she cannot deny the way it makes her pulse race.

“I shall be back in an hour.” Otto informs them both, before leaving.

She is too stunned to speak at first as she takes in the sight of Aemond. He seems stoic and unaffected in his demeanour, until she studies him more carefully. She takes in how his pupil is dilated with lust, the prominent bulge that presses against the lacings of his trousers, and the slight parting of his lips as he struggles to control his excited breaths.

Arranging herself atop the bedspread, she relaxes knowing that he desires her just as much as she desires him. She beckons him to her with a crook of her finger. “Come now, don’t be shy.” He goes to her eagerly.

It is just one of the many perks of being Otto Hightower’s wife. He is nothing if not generous in every aspect of their marriage, and so dedicated to his family.

#otto hightower #otto hightower x reader #otto hightower smut #otto hightower x y/n #otto hightower x you #otto hightower imagine #otto hightower fan fiction #otto hightower fanfiction #otto hightower fanfic #otto hightower fan fic #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd smut #hotd fan fiction #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fan fic

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nateezfics · 1 year ago

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ADORNED

♔ PAIRING — yeosang x reader

♔ GENRE — smut, sugar daddy au, ceo au, ceo!yeosang, sugar daddy!yeosang, aged up!yeosang, fem!reader, dom!yeosang, sub!reader

♔ WARNINGS — smut, unprotected sex, oral (m), masturbation (slight), choking (slight), use of pet names (sweetheart), sexual language//dirty talk

♔ WORD COUNT — 1.6k

♔ SUMMARY — “such a beautiful, expensive little necklace i’ve bought for you. perhaps there is something you could do to pay me back, to thank me for being so doting.”

“You look gorgeous, sweetheart.” Yeosang’s voice was like velvet, deep and smooth. He spoke slowly, and walked in an equally languid pace towards where you stood in the center of his bedroom. You remained still, just as he had instructed, and watched as the gap between you became smaller. His eyes remained on your neck, right where an elaborate necklace hung. The emeralds and diamonds were glittering brilliantly under the dim lights. The necklace was a beautifully crafted piece, unlike any other you had seen. And he had purchased it. Just for you.

And even with his complimentary words and adoring gaze, you couldn’t forget that his gifts always came with a catch; a favor to be returned.

You could see the desire in his eyes as he closed the distance between you. He had been a picture of the loving, doting partner. All soft smiles and adoring words while you tried on every piece of jewelry that caught your eye. Now, back home within the walls of his penthouse, he was a vision of desire. His eyes were dark, and drank in the sight of you hungrily.

A gasp escaped your lips when his fingers brushed against the necklace, knuckles grazing the skin of your collarbone. One of Yeosang’s well manicured brows rose as he studied the necklace, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “Such a beautiful, expensive little necklace I’ve bought for you. Perhaps there is something you could do to pay me back, to thank me for being so doting.”

There it was, the catch. Yeosang was always blunt about wanting something in return from you. And you were always ready to offer him your gratitude for all the wonderful gifts. Like the necklace that adorned your neck. You smiled. “What would you like me to do?”

Yeosang’s hand returned to his side. “Get on your knees.” You did as you were told, lowering yourself until your knees were flush against the cold hardwood. You looked up at him expectantly. His thumb caressed your bottom lip, and he smirked when your lips parted in a sigh. “Good, now use that pretty little mouth of yours.”

You didn’t hesitate to grope him over his slacks, pressing your palm against his half hardened cock. He groaned appreciatively, and you used that as fuel to continue, stroking him until you felt him become fully solid under your touch. You freed him from the confines of his pants with practiced ease, and wasted little time in taking him straight into your mouth. The sound of his deep voice as he groaned again shot warmth right to your core.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasped, fingers threading into your hair.

You hollowed your cheeks and sucked, moaning at the taste of him. His size made him a challenge to take, but his hand in your hair guided you, pushing your face into him until his cock fully disappeared into your wet throat.

Yeosang watched you from above just as you looked up to meet his gaze, your eyes shiny and dark. You looked like pure sin like this, on your knees with your mouth full of his cock. He could’ve spent every last dollar on you if it meant he could have you just like this forever. No money in the world could replace the feeling of your lips around him.

His groans and curses spurred you on, and fed the ever growing desire between your thighs. The jewels were heavy around your neck and dangled with every bob of your head. You always felt so confident when he lavished you with these expensive gifts; you never could’ve afforded this life without Yeosang, and you’d always be willing to show him your appreciation. But the reality was that even outside of his wealth, Yeosang was beyond attractive. His beauty alone made you want to be on your knees for him, his money was just an extra incentive.

You were set on sucking him dry, but he pulled you off his cock before you were able to accomplish that. Yeosang snickered when you pouted up at him. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I am not done with you.” He helped you return to your feet and lead you towards his king bed. “Now strip, but leave your new necklace on.”

You slipped the straps of your dress down your shoulders, pushing them down until your dress fell the rest of the way, landing in a pool around your ankles. You stepped out of your dress, and now you were left in your underwear. And the necklace. Yeosang watched your every move intently, eyes growing darker with every bit of newly exposed skin. You were completely bare under his gaze, and a sight to behold as the jewels continued to sparkle against your skin.

Yeosang looked as if he could have devoured you in an instant; and that was exactly what he was about to do. “Get on the bed and lay on your back.” His voice was strained. You could tell it was taking everything in him to keep composure.

The plush duvet met your back as you laid like he told you to. “Just like this?”

Yeosang swallowed. “Spread your legs for me,” he demanded, and when you didn’t open them wide enough for his liking, he urged you again. “Spread then wider, sweetheart.”

You separated your thighs as far as they could go, fully putting yourself on display for the man before you. Your pussy was wet, and glistened under the bedroom’s dim lights, mimicking the shimmering jewels you currently wore. When you noticed the way he drank you in, you giggled. “Like what you see?”

Yeosang swallowed again, stepping closer to the bed. His lips twisted into a smirk as he enjoyed the way your sex weeped in front of him. “Very much so. Now, touch yourself, sweetheart.”

You desperately wanted him to touch you, but you reached one of your hands down to your sex anyway. You pressed your fingers into your clit, moaning at the touch. You toyed with yourself like this for a few more moments, just until you couldn’t handle the way you felt so incredibly empty. Two of your fingers dipped between your folds and you met his gaze right at that moment. The sensation of your fingers inside you and the sight of Yeosang in front of you had your head spinning already. But your fingers only satiated you so much; Yeosang’s cock was still out and hard, and you yearned for him to fill you to the brim.

“Fuck, look at you right now. So beautiful yet so fucking dirty. All bare for me and touching yourself with those expensive emeralds around your neck.” Yeosang felt his cock twitch at the sight. It begged for attention, and he was a mere second away from crawling over you and stuffing you full with it. He just wanted to watch you for a bit longer.

“Are you going to fuck me, or are you just going to watch?” You huffed, growing frustrated with need.

Yeosang smirked. “Of course, sweetheart. I was just simply admiring.” To your relief, he began to rid himself of the rest of his clothing. He crawled over your body until he was face to face with you. You pulled him in, lips meeting his in a messy kiss. He chuckled against you, amused by your eagerness. Though, he couldn’t deny he was just as eager to bury himself in your wet pussy.

You both groaned at the first push of his cock into your heat. Yeosang allowed you time to adjust, stilling once he was fully seated inside. “Oh my god. I need you to move. Please.”

Yeosang’s lips grazed your ear. “Like this?” He snapped his hips into yours, earning an immediate cry from you.

“Y-Yes!”

Yeosang fucked into you, growing faster and deeper with every thrust and every cry out of your mouth. You were taking him so well, so good. He adored the way you looked beneath him, skin flushed and body jolting with every rut of his hips. The necklace moved to and fro with every bounce of your breasts, and Yeosang was convinced you’d never looked more beautiful. “Taking me so good, sweetheart,” he whispered. “You’re being good for me, all because I spoiled you rotten today.”

Your eyes fluttered open when you felt his hand clasp around your throat just above where the necklace rested.

“Letting me slut you out for a mere necklace.” Yeosang used his free hand to throw one of your legs over his shoulder, the new angle allowing him to thrust into you deeper. His cock brushed against your sweet spot, and all you could do was cry out, eyes rolling backwards from the pleasure.

“I’m so close…”

Yeosang pressed two of his fingers into your clit. “Come on, sweetheart. Be good and cum for me.”

He barely finished his sentence before you came. Pleasure surged throughout your body, his name tumbling out of your lips as you rode out your high. Through the haze you could make out a few of the praises he whispered in your ear to guide you through your release until you finally started to come down.

Yeosang wasn’t far behind, falling apart and pushing into you with one last thrust, his hot release spilling into you. The hand that was wrapped around your throat relaxed, and soon began to fondle with your necklace.

“Now, sweetheart, let’s take this off you and get you cleaned up, shall we?”

AUTHOR’S NOTES — ughhh it took me so long to get this up. i meant to have this whole spoiled event series completely finished ages ago, but tbh i couldn’t ever be satisfied with what i was creating,, so i kept trashing every draft and redoing them :(( from yeosang all the way to jongho…i’ve redone everything. and i’ve been majorly pushing off avoiding this series,, but here’s hoping i can get the rest up soon. i’m really not feeling too confident in this,, so if you enjoyed this i would love it if you showed some support :’) comments and reblogs appreciated!

TAG LIST — @lilie-dctl @mjyungi @marievllr-abg @nebulousbookshelf @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @thesafecafe

(tag list has been redone; if you’d like to be on the list, find the link to my tag list form on the pinned post on my page)

NETWORK — @kflixnet

ALL FICS ARE THE ORIGINAL IDEAS AND WRITTEN WORKS OF NATEEZFICS. DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. REPOSTING WITHOUT CONSENT FROM THE AUTHOR NATEEZFICS IS PROHIBITED!

#yeosang smut #ateez smut #yeosang smut drabbles #ateez smut drabbles #yeosang fanfiction #ateez fanfiction #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez reactions #ateez x reader #yeosang x reader #ateez au

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asherbakugou · 8 months ago

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Date Outfit and Location

Kai Kalama | (She/They)

Burgundy red dress that falls just past their knees with a boob slit held together by simple straight gold clasps. The sides, starting just below her ribcage and reaching to her waist, have a gap with three simple gold chains attached. Overtop they wore a cropped black leather jacket that reaches just past her boobs. She chose to pair it with golden sun earrings and gold rings to bring attention to their black nails as well as black ankle strap heels.

Kai chose to take Reader to Morimoto's, a fancy and expensive sushi restaraunt that can take months to get a reservation at. It happens to be Reader's dream restaraunt to visit but they've never had a chance to go to because of the prices.

Zane Julien | (She/her)

Pale blue circle skirt with snowdrops sewn along the right side, with a white off-shoulder cardigan, paired with blue converse. Simple clay earrings made to look like snowdrops, and a simple necklace with a shard of diamond bring the entire outfit together.

Zane chose to take Reader to an Interactive Museum because of their mutual love of museums and Readers natural curiosity. It is one of the largest museums in the country of Ninjago and incredibly popular with an aquariam inside.

Cole Brookstone | (They/them)

Deep cut silk white blouse over a black, sleeveless turtleneck paired with a simple silver chain, and a singular black pearl hanging from his earlobe. They wore black jeans with it as well, a wallet chain, and black boots.

Reader decided on the Food Festival, a time when people from all over Ninjago Country gather in the streets and set up stalls, a good opportunity for Cole's first dip back into festivals.

Jay Walker | (She/Her)

Simple blue jeans with bluberry bushes sewn up the calves, tight white sleeveless turtleneck, with a baby blue cardigan that she can easily take off. She paired it with white sneakers, a blue bead anklet, and a string pearl necklace.

Reader chose to take Jay out to a Trampoline Park, the largest in Ninjago, since they both enjoy fun and it has multiple different sections that include laser tag, putt putt, and an obstacle course she hopes to challenge him in.

Lloyd Garmadon | (She/her)

Calf length, tight black turtleneck dress with golden designs along the chest and green glass beads to further bring the designs to life, and off the shoulder loose sleeves with a cuff to keep it from spilling over hands. Black kitten pumps, a gold lotus wrap bracelet, and emerald drop earrings bring the entire outfit together.

Lloyd chose to take Reader out to a fancy restaruant in one of the most expensive places to impress her, even though he doesn't need too. But she is excited to have a date with him, and has never been wined and dined before.

Morro | (She/her)

Ankle length sheer black skirt with pale pink cherry blossoms over black leggings and pale pink sneakers. A pale pink silk wrap around shirt with kimono-esque sleeves and cloud designs along the bottom of the sleeves, paired with a simple silver ring and cherry blossom earrings.

Morro chose to take Reader to a Lantern Festival being hosted in Ninjaho's National Park. The park itself is huge, and so is the Lantern Festival, but its also a little pricey so Reader never had the opportunity to go, even though she wished to.

A/n: The actual dates will be posted one by one as I hope for them to be more detailed, but hope you all enjoy this little tidbit.

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shelby-fangirl00 · 1 year ago

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Empty Spaces-Part Three

Part Two

Warnings: Smut, language, cheating, age-gap (Enjoy!)

Word Count: 2028

‘Would you like me to help you with your necklace, Mrs. Shelby?’ You asked as she smoothed down her new evening gown she brought back from London. You couldn’t deny how beautiful she looked. She was a vision. You secretly envied her strong features, her long legs and her small frame. She seemed to just ooze elegance and confidence. You were quite the opposite of her. So much shorter than she was. You weren’t thin like she was; you were fuller and thicker than most of the women your age. You tried to imagine what you would look like in that gown, but a dress like that couldn’t possibly fit, let alone pulling it off as well as she did. They didn’t make fancy dresses for women your size. The emerald sequence on her long gown glimmered as your thoughts raced.

‘The gold one, yes.’ She said as she fiddled with her hair in the mirror.

You turned to the vanity to grab the polished necklace. As you crept up behind her to place it over her pretty pale skin, Tommy came into the bedroom.

‘Here, I think I can handle this part?’ He sighed out as he strutted towards the both of you, taking it from your hands. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, hair slicked back perfectly. He looked more than gorgeous, as usual. Your breath hitched as he snatched the necklace, not even bothering to look at you.

You stepped back and gawked at them a little too long. As he clipped the necklace in place, his hands fell down her shoulders and arms, seemingly admiring her through the reflection in the mirror, like you weren’t even in the room. Like he hadn’t just fucked you senseless only a few feet away from where you were all standing. You felt like you might be sick.

‘You’re dismissed, y/n.’ Mrs. Shelby’s voice rang out harshly. Quickly walking to the door, you glanced up at Tommy. His face was snuggled into her neck lovingly. She giggled at his burst of affection from behind you. As you shut the door, you practically fell down the stairs and out the front door. Once the fresh air hit your skin, you tried to calm the heavy breathing.

That was fucking uncomfortable! You thought to yourself. You laughed, shaking your head. Did you really think a man like that would give a damn about a random maid he fucked one time? God, you felt like a fucking fool. He’s married. You reminded yourself. You felt so naïve for thinking that this would be more than just a one-time thing.

You huffed out and slumped against the bricked wall on the side of the house. You reached for a cigarette under your stocking, lighting it with a match. Tommy and Mrs. Shelby were going to some fancy party tonight, thankfully. The last thing you wanted to do tonight was serve either of them.

‘Could I bum one from ya?’ Francis said as she came to stand beside you, pulling out her small golden lighter from her dress pocket. You smiled at her, reaching for another cigarette.

‘’course, Francis.’

‘Are you feeling alright, love? You look so pale.’ She said, studying your expression with squinted eyes.

‘Yeh, just a rough go of it today, no worries.’ You said quickly, avoiding her eyes. You fidgeted with the fabric of your skirt.

‘hoping she’d be gone for good this time, yeh?’ She giggled out as she puffed on her cigarette.

Your eyes widened in surprise and you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. Of course, she knew what was going on. You were stupid to think this hadn’t happened before.

‘How’d you know?’

‘I know everything that goes on here at the Arrow House, dear. Even what you and Mr. Shelby do in the shadows.’ She stated matter-of-factly. She didn’t seem angry or upset, she seemed curious.

‘It all happened so fast. He’s…well he’s as charmiing as they say.’ You giggled.

‘Oh, I’m sure of it!’ Francis proclaimed.

‘Just thought I had more time, is all. I don’t compare to her beauty. Must have been a moment of desperation for him.’

Francis turned to me, gently squeezing my shoulder in her frail hand.

‘She is beautiful, yes. The moon is beautiful too, and so is a rose or a rainbow. They are all completely different, but no less beautiful. You’re beautiful too, inside and out, dear. It is a rarity to be both.’ She winked at you before flicking her cigarette out into the grass.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the words comforted you. Nobody had ever said anything so kind to you.

‘Oh Francis, you’re too good to me.’ You choked out, wiping away your tears.

‘It’s only the truth dear.’

The Shelby’s had been gone for a few hours now, and you didn’t expect to see them again tonight. Francis had dismissed you from work just minutes ago. You walked yourself towards the shared bathroom. As you stripped off your uniform and jumped into your long nightgown, you couldn’t help but wonder what they were both doing in the moment. Were they getting along now? It seemed that way when they left. They’re probably out having a great time, enjoying each other’s company, as they should. They are married

You shook your head at your pathetic thoughts.

Just as quickly as you opened the door, Tommy’s body was shoving you back into the bathroom with him. He pressed his hand firmly over your mouth to keep you from yelping. He placed his finger over his lips, signaling for you to keep quiet. Your eyes widened in shock and confusion. His face was inches away from yours.

His scent and presence were overwhelming, intoxicating. A part of you was so relieved to be near him again. Another part of you was terrified that his wife could catch him at any minute with you.

Inches from yours, he studied your demeanor. His hand fell from your mouth. His eyes rested on your parted and pouty lips. That crooked smile nearly made you melt into a puddle.

Pushing your hair back from your neck, he leaned in and whispered, ‘I’ve been thinking about your tight little pussy all evening’ His hand traced over the curve of your body lightly. ‘Can you keep quiet?’ Sending a shiver down your spine. You rubbed your legs together needily at his words. You were aching so badly for him. You shook your head yes a bit too eagerly.

His mouth hungrily kissed down your body, holding your hips in place as he lowered himself. You couldn’t help the small moans that tried desperately to escape each time his lips made contact with your skin.

When he reached your waist, he bunched up the bottom of your dress to your belly. The air was cold on your skin, but his warm hands lit you on fire instantly.

‘T-Tommy wait…’ You tried to strain out. His blown pupils fluttered up to you. He tilted his head in question, not bothering to stand up.

‘Tommy…you’re married…w-we shouldn’t be doing this…I feel so fucking guilty.’ You whispered breathlessly. He stiffened at your words, his hands freezing on your waist. He chuckled to himself before slowly standing up. He was so close you had to crane your neck to look in his eyes.

His hands held onto both sides of your cheeks, lifting your head up even more.

‘Please don’t feel guilty for the choices I make, y/n. Our relationship is far from saving and that has nothing to do with who we are both fucking. Alright?’ He spoke to you so softly, comforting you.

‘But…this morning…you seemed so happy? You whispered, looking down at your feet in embarrassment.

The widest smile spread across his face as he lifted your chin up to look up at him. ‘Do you want me to go? Because your body is telling me something else, love.’ Just as he said the words, his hand slid up your thigh so softly, sending goosebumps up your legs. As his hand traveled up further, his eyes never left yours. You both let out a small gasp as his shoulders raised and his hand reached into your thin panties. You were so fucking wet, it was embarrassing.

‘Shiiiiit.’ You moaned to yourself, letting your head fall onto your shoulder. You sucked in a long breath. Your chest rose and your peaked nipples poked through the fabric of your nightgown. The sight of you forced out a low groan from Tommy.

His fingers quickly found your swollen nub and drew small circles. As he did so, he pushed your thighs open, giving him better access to you.

His chest was heaving over yours and you steadied yourself on his shoulders, gripping them tightly. You felt his tendons moving as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. His circles became quicker in pace, making you shake.

‘Fuck, I need to be inside of you again.’ He panted out, letting his forehead rest on yours. His words egged you on. The burning in your stomach was bubbling up, you didn’t know if you’d last much longer.

His fingers lowered from your clit, finding your swelling hole. Without warning, his two fingers pushed through slowly. Your hand gripped the back of his freshly shaven head. He used the bottom of his palm to rub against your clit and you nearly lost it.

You could feel Tommy’s cock throbbing against your stomach through his pants.

Tommy knew you were close from the way you were breathing and the way you were clenching around his pumping fingers.

He grabbed the back of your head, forcing you to look at him.

‘Fuck Tommy…’ You barely whispered.

‘Come. Then I’m gonna fuck you right here against this sink.’ He panted as his fingers pumped at a relentless pace.

You sucked in another breath and came hard all around him. Just as you started to come undone, he sealed his lips over yours forcefully, cutting off any sounds you could make. You whimpered into his mouth, forcing a groan from him. Your legs were shaking madly and his arms pulled you against his chest. He was indulging in every movement and sound you made just for him. Fire shot through you and you nearly screamed out.

Before you could even think straight again, he pulled his fingers out of you and lifted you up on top of the sink. His hands reached and ripped your panties down your thighs. He marveled at the sight of your red and swollen mound. His eyes flashed with lust and he smiled devilishly at you.

He quickly unbuttoned his pants to only free his aching cock. Feeling brave, you pulled your dress up to rest on top of your breast, exposing every inch of yourself to him.

He pushed your thigh up and over to spread you open for him. As he did so, he lined himself up with your dripping entrance. You watched your bodies connect as the head of his cock finally slipped inside of you. You both let out a long hiss. Inch by inch, Tommy slid inside of you and your walls trapped him in.

‘Finally…’ Tommy muttered to himself as his eyes fluttered shut. He found a steady pace inside of you. You watched in amazement as his usually tense shoulders and neck relaxed as he fucked into you so painfully slow. His face started to soften completely and his mouth hung open in pure ecstasy. Tommy looked completely relaxed as he fucked you deep into the sink. You locked your fingers together behind his neck as he held you up by your waist.

‘You don’t know how good you feel, love.’ He practically whimpered out. The sound of him completely undone inside of you made your walls clench around him.

You were both so wrapped up in the bliss of the moment that you didn’t register the doorknob shaking. Banging was quickly followed after this. Tommy’s hand slapped over your mouth again as he froze in place.

‘Tommy, I know you’re in there!!! Open the fuckin door!!!’

Part Three coming soon!

Taglist:

@lyarr24

@forgottenpeakywriter

@casa-boiardi

@tigernach575

@crabat-the-queen

@adaydreamaway08

@trixie23

@star017

@esquivelbianca

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@thenattitude

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #cillian murphy

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carolynjcole · 11 days ago

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Why Are Round Brilliant Diamonds More Expensive?

Long symbols of richness, elegance, and enduring love, diamonds have also been Diamonds are sought for their beauty and rarity whether they are worn in engagement rings, wedding bands, or other fine jewelry. Among the several diamond cuts, the round brilliant cut diamond is the most regularly used one and generally the most valuable one. Why, therefore, is the round brilliant cut regarded as more costly than other diamond forms? We shall discuss the elements influencing the price of round brilliant diamonds and the reasons behind their ongoing demand in exquisite jewelry on this blog. We will also discuss how well-made, premium round brilliant cut diamonds from Khepri Jewels meet your jewelry needs.

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Cut Complexity

The difficulty of the cutting procedure is one of the key factors driving round brilliant cut diamond rings prices higher. Since a diamond must be cut at particular angles to guarantee optimum light reflection and brilliance, cutting a diamond into a round form calls both great planning and accuracy. Round brilliant cuts maximize the diamond's fire—the dispersion of light into several colors—the sparkle, and general brilliance. A lot of the raw diamond is lost during the cutting process in order to reach this, so the round brilliant cut is more costly than other forms such as princess or emerald cuts, which preserve more of the natural rough diamond.

High Demand and Popularity

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Versatility in Setting Styles

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cvblackcv · 4 days ago

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Short Story "Midnight Tracks"

The train doors hissed open, spilling a gust of cold night air into the nearly empty car. I looked up from my phone, more out of instinct than interest, and froze. She stepped over the small gap between the train and the platform, her coat long, black, and buttoned tight, but it couldn't hide the curve of her hips or the way she confidently carried herself. A scarf hung loose around her neck, and a strand of dark hair had slipped from her bun, brushing her cheek gently.

She glanced around, taking in the emptiness of the car. Her emerald gaze landed on me, just briefly, before sliding away like she hadn't seen me at all. I felt it, though—that flash of acknowledgment. She picked a seat diagonally across from mine, far enough to keep her distance but close enough that I could catch the faint scent of vanilla when she passed me.

The train lurched forward, and the fluorescent lights above flickered. Outside, the darkness of the tunnel walls pressed close, interrupted only by the occasional flash of dim, grimy station lights. Inside, it was just her, me, and the low, rhythmic rumble of steel wheels against the track.

Her legs crossed, and I watched as the hem of her coat shifted, revealing black boots with a slight heel and legs encased in sheer black tights. I forced myself to look away, my gaze falling to the floor. But it didn't matter where I looked; she was all I could think about.

She shifted in her seat, pulling off her scarf and letting it pool in her lap. Her neck was long and smooth, her skin a shade lighter than caramel, and the delicate chain of a necklace disappeared beneath the V of her coat. She was the kind of beautiful that made you forget how to breathe.

I could feel the heat of my own pulse as I stood. At my full height, I towered over most people, and she was no exception. Even with those heels, she was undoubtedly still a foot shorter than me. I don't know why I moved, but the distance between us suddenly felt unbearable. My feet carried me closer, almost instinctually, and I took the seat across from her. She inhaled sharply at my movement, her breath catching for a moment. She was close enough now that I could make out the faint freckles dusting her nose, the subtle sheen of gloss on her lips, and how her lashes cast delicate shadows against her cheeks.

Her dark jade eyes met mine, the tension thickening between us, as palpable as the air before a summer storm.

I leaned forward slightly, resting my elbows on my knees, and let my gaze wander over her face, her sensual body. Her lips parted, but she didn't speak. Neither did I. The silence between us was charged, brimming with all the things neither of us dared to say.

She shifted, slowly uncrossing and recrossing her legs with deliberate movements. I watched in fascination as the sheer tights caught the faint flicker of the train lights. When I looked back up, I found her watching me, her expression perfectly mirroring my own.

It was pure desire.

Outside, the train slowed as it approached the next station. I glanced at the window and saw the platform lights approaching, but I couldn't bring myself to care. The world outside was nothing compared to the magnetic pull of the woman sitting across from me.

The train came to a halt with a screech of brakes, and for a moment, I thought she might leave. My chest tightened as the doors hissed open, spilling cold air into the car. She moved slightly, gathering her scarf as if preparing to stand, but then paused, her gaze flicking to mine. For a moment, we just stared at each other, the tension between us humming like a live wire. Her chest rose with a slow, deliberate inhale, and I matched it, holding my breath as though exhaling would shatter the moment.

The doors stayed open for what felt like an eternity, the cold air biting at the warmth between us. Neither of us moved, neither of us spoke.

The doors slid shut with a soft thud, sealing us in together, alone again.

Her fingers tightened briefly around the scarf in her lap, and I leaned forward, my voice low and deliberate. "Come here."

The train jolted forward, the rhythmic rumble of the tracks filling the silence. She hesitated only a moment longer before standing. Her heels clicked softly as she crossed the small distance between us, her gaze locked onto mine. Fate didn't give second chances often. And I wasn't going to waste this one.

With only slight hesitancy, she stands, and I immediatley grab her hips, turning her away from me. I press my hand firmly against her back, my left arm wrapping around the front of her thigh to steady her. "Bend over," I say, my voice low. "Widen your stance. Don't bend your legs." Her coat rides up, tugging the bottom of her dress with it, just enough to tease me. I don't hesitate as I grip the fabric and rip a hole right in the center of her crotch, revealing a black thong underneath. Perfect. Pulling the knife from my pocket, I slice through it, exposing her to me entirely.

I keep her in place, my palm pressing firmly against her back as I slide my middle finger into her warmth. My other hand rests on the top of her ass, keeping her open, giving me the perfect view of my thick digit disappearing into her over and over again.

I feel her wetness coat me, dripping onto the floor beneath us. "You're soaked, baby," I say, the corner of my mouth curling. "Do you want me to make this pussy come?"

She lets out a shaky whimper and shakes her head, but I know better. "I want to hear it," I growl. "Tell me you want me to make you come."

"Oh god, yes," she breathes, her voice trembling. "Yes, please make me come."

That's all I need. I added another finger, stretching her, and her legs started shaking immediately.

I thrust my fingers in and out of her, faster now, feeling her tighten around me. She's so close, clenching, her body trembling, but before she can let go, the train slows, and she stumbles forward. I catch her instantly, pulling her back onto my lap. She whimpers when my fingers leave her heat and it sends a pulse through me, making my cock stretch to an almost impossible thickness.

"Be a good girl and come for me," I tell her, my voice firm as I pull her legs back, fully exposing her dripping pussy to the empty train car. I slide my fingers back inside her just as the train doors open.

I look down at her face, her eyes darting frantically, searching the space. She's waiting to see if someone will step inside, but it doesn't matter to me. Even if they do, I'll make her come right here, whether it's just me watching or fifty other people. She'll soak this train if I demand it.

Her breathing picks up, chest heaving as she holds her breath, waiting for footsteps. When the doors close again and the train lurches forward, she exhales sharply, a mix of relief and anticipation. "Show me how wet this pussy can get," I tell her, my tone dark and commanding. My fingers curl inside her, and I grind my palm against her clit with just the right amount of pressure. Her body reacts immediately, and before either of us knows it, she's breaking apart.

She soaks my hand, my lap, and the floor beneath her, the sound of her wetness echoing in the silent car. I pull my fingers free and rub her clit, drawing out every last wave of her orgasm. She jerks under my touch, and I tap her pussy lightly, watching as more of her arousal drips out with each slap. "That's my good girl."

For longer stories visit my Wattpad

#shorts #short story #romance #new author #wattpad #smut #instant attraction #mature theme #hot and sexy #reading #authors #new writers on tumblr #wattpad writer

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esta-elavaris · 1 year ago

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Part Fifteen [4,160 words] ~ James Norrington/OC

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Page breaks by cafekitsune.

Also now on AO3 and FF.net.

Masterpost - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - *Part Fifteen*

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @teawithshakespeare @missfronkensteen @dancerinthestorm

It turned out, much to Theo's hidden dismay, that the going-away dinner was a natural precursor to the welcome back dinner that those in Port Royal liked to throw for the higher-ranking returning sailors after a spell away. It was a good chance, Elizabeth explained, to acknowledge their losses if there were any, to celebrate the lack of those losses if their luck held true, and to give the men their first good meal since they'd set sail. It was a way for them to blow off steam in a classy way, essentially. Unless Norrington was coming, because it was her own personal opinion that deception and humiliation weren't particularly classy – but what would Theo know? She was Irish, after all.

Elizabeth, being Elizabeth, wanted her to wear something evil for the dinner. Evil, here, having the meaning of show-stoppingly beautiful. She'd refused, flat out. Not only because she didn't have the heart for it, but because it'd be transparent and very pathetic, and only make her feel more ridiculous than she already did around most of those whose names were on the guest list. There was no desire in her to show him what he was missing, or anything that reached those levels of utter meltery, because he wasn't missing anything, and she didn't want him to miss anything. She was done. What was the point in playing games that she'd find no fun in?

Only when she insisted that if the matter was pushed, she'd fake a sudden illness and spend the night in her bedroom, in her nightgown, did Elizabeth relent. Highly begrudgingly. At least until she caught the pallor creeping into Theo's face, and the tremor in her hand, as the prospect of the night ahead saturated her with dread, and then their spat was over before it had even truly begun.

So, the lengths of red satin that her friend had been trying to push upon her were replaced by a muted jade gown that had delicate white flowers working its way up from the hem of the skirts, along with the bottom of the bodice. Her one concession was the fabric of the underskirts – a brilliant emerald green that peeked out from the gap in the middle between the overskirts. The hair was understated, too, the updo more a simple collection of curls all bound together rather than something that had her resembling a skyscraper. Finally, she wore her own necklace from home about her neck, more of a totem than an accessory tonight, so she could at least feel like her dad was here with her in some way. In truth, she missed him more sorely now than she had since arriving here, and even the thought was almost enough to send her into a fit of tears.

But she couldn't afford that tonight. Maybe that made the necklace a mistake, but she couldn't bring herself to remove it once it was on.

Tonight would be the worst of it. The first time having to face him again – but at least she'd do so while knowing that his maid, Hattie, would've told him that she returned whatever books of his had still been in her care. Now, he would have no reason at all to speak with her. He'd like that.

James knew that, had Theodora departed, he would have heard so soon upon returning to Port Royal. And while he heard no such thing, he still hadn't the heart to outright ask – not even his own staff – so he remained silent, and when he entered the Governor's mansion that eve, he was relieved when it took no time at all to spot a head of fiery hair among the crowd. Although the relief was hardly devoid of other, more mixed emotions.

He should apologise. That was not a conclusion that it took him a great deal of time to reach. It would be the right thing to do – the gentlemanly thing to do, even if he was not a gentleman in the technical sense of the word. Nor in the looser sense, if his behaviour as of late was any indicator.

However…she had also asked him to leave her be. It was impossible to respect that wish, while also doing the right thing, which left him with the dilemma of which course of action was more right. The answer was the one he liked least. That he should simply leave her be, as she wanted.

And whatever relief he felt at seeing she was still here was in danger of evaporating when he saw more of her throughout the evening. Her face, and her general demeanour. How often had he thought to himself that there must be nothing under the sun that could possibly dampen her utterly indomitable spirit? Her humour? While the thought had once exasperated him, he now wished his theory had not proven incorrect. It helped nothing that he was the cause of it.

He kept his distance throughout the night, and she did not look at him once, but even when she was on the opposite side of the room from him (which she often was), she did not brighten. While James was placed at Governor Swann's end of the table, Theodora was at Elizabeth's, with Groves at her other side, to her left.

It soon became apparent that he didn't even need to pretend he was not taking stock of her, stealing swift glances here and there when he was sure she was distracted and would not catch him, for she didn't look at him at all. She barely looked at anybody, her eyes downcast and her face distant. It was not the manner of one who was in the midst of a strop – intent on making sure those around her felt the full weight of her displeasure via the mode of uncomfortable silence. So, while she did not smile, she didn't scowl either. When spoken to, she replied, and when spoken at, she listened patiently. But she was not there. Not truly. She did not flee in defeat, but she had put down her sword.

And that fact alone was enough to have his heart sinking down to his shoes.

Dinner passed without incident, and when they moved to the sitting room so that the servants could clear the aftermath of the meal, Groves and Elizabeth seemed in no hurry to leave Theodora's side. As hostess, Elizabeth was soon forced to do so and mingle, but Groves remained, although he appeared content to simply remain by her side rather than engaging in further attempts to pry conversation from her. All the while, her eyes remained far off, much as he suspected his own did when he was busy running over mental preparations for whatever voyage lay ahead.

She looked fetching tonight. Nothing new, really, for she was a fair woman – factually speaking. Bedecked in green which flattered her colouring, and not bedecked in ruffles or jewels that would only distract from the beauty that she herself held. But the difference was that, tonight, she was not as striking as she usually was. Not without the teasing grins, or the glimmer in her eye that so oft betrayed a wealth of things she was not saying.

What it took to snap her back into the room was something he wished had not happened at all. Amelia Simmonds flounced over to the pianoforte, and sat down before it with a flourish. Not content to make a point by halves, she flew into a complex piece that would have had even James himself impressed at her skill – had she not been who she was, and had she not harboured the motive she did. Instead, it only stoked his ire, perhaps pettily content that he had another to level at it who was not himself.

The performance was nearing its end when he looked back towards Theodora again, finding that this time, for the first time, she was looking at him. Indifference still veiled her expression, but this time it was just that – a veil. One hand toyed with the pendant about her neck, seeking comfort, as she watched him silently, as though waiting for a repeat of what had occurred the last time they found themselves in this setting. He knew the fact that he'd been caught changed his expression, but it did not change hers. She gave nothing away. Which, in itself, gave something away, for being so guarded was unlike her. And he'd caused the change.

Finally, after what seemed like an age, she looked away. Murmuring something to Groves, she took a step back, and then turned, departing otherwise without notice. Intent, he supposed, on not offering up another opportunity.

James debated on whether he should follow, but as another seized their chance to play, Amelia was by his side.

"My, Miss Swann really did tame the wild beast, did she not?" Amelia asked with glee.

He realised then, with a dull sense of horror, that she viewed him as an ally against the woman she had pinned all of her ire upon, the moment Theodora had washed up on their shores. Said horror was no longer so dull when he was forced to concede that Amelia's assumption was not unfounded.

"Perhaps she should open a finishing school," she continued. "Or a dog kennel – for training, you understand."

"You are making a fool of yourself, madam," he said flatly.

The grin slipped from her face as she blinked up at him, but she recovered swiftly and forced a laugh.

"No, Captain, I'm making a fool of her."

"Then why, might I ask, is it you that appears ignorant, and not Miss Byrne?"

He took his leave before she could answer, following in the direction Theodora had departed, although he knew not what he would do if he found her.

It seemed another had already beaten him to accompany her, though. Lieutenant Groves' voice met his ears, drifting from the dining room that had already been cleared, and James stilled by the doorway, listening with something that felt dangerously and heavily akin to dread. For the Lieutenant's voice was soft in a way that denoted more than a desire to simply speak quietly.

"I was wondering if I might call upon you tomorrow morning. For…for tea, or perhaps a turn about the gardens. Whichever you'd like best. Or something else, if you'd rather."

"…Why?" Theodora's voice was filled with genuine confusion.

Groves breathed a nervous laugh, faltered for a moment, and then replied.

"Forgive me, but…I think you know why. I should very much like to get to know you, Miss Byrne."

"Oh…I…I see…"

It was silent then, for a few long moments – moments that felt all the longer for how terrible they were, as James wondered if he would find them locked in some sort of embrace if he chanced a look inside the room.

"Lieutenant…" she said finally, falteringly.

James despised the treacherous relief and joy both that coursed through him, for that mode of address entirely betrayed what her answer would be. And it should not have made him happy. Not for Groves' sake, not for Theodora's, and certainly not for his own.

"Please, call me Theodore. Unless it's too absurd for you to say with a straight face, considering how alike it is to yours."

She did not laugh at his teasing.

"I don't intend to be here much longer. But…if you want to come and visit as a friend, I'd love that."

Scarcely two full seconds went by before Groves was responding.

"You're leaving?"

"When I can find the right time, yes."

"Why? Because of…the other night…?"

"Not entirely because of it. I'm not that pathetic. If it was anything, it was a wake-up call. I don't belong here, and I don't want to be anywhere I don't belong. What point is there wasting my energy pretending otherwise? Everybody knows it."

"I think you're allowing yourself to be defeated. If I may be so bold as to say it outright."

"There's surrendering to needless defeat, and then there's recognising that the battle isn't worth fighting in the first place," she said, resignation filling her voice more than woe or self-pity. "I want to be somewhere where people understand me. Where they actually like and know me. That's not wrong. Elizabeth does, Elizabeth has been…has been so impossibly good to me. But I can't spend all of my time cowering behind her skirts and expecting her to stick up for me amongst this lot. It's not fair on her, and I don't want her to. I'm tired, Lieutenant. I've been tired ever since I arrived here. I don't think that's going to change if I remain."

Tired, James knew, was a code for the emotions she would not admit to. Fear, and melancholy. Amongst others.

Groves sighed.

"Very well. But I still insist that you call me Theodore."

"And if it is too absurd?" there was a smile in her voice now – the first display of mirth James' had caught from her all evening.

"I've never been much attached to it. We can brainstorm a new one for me when I visit tomorrow."

"You still want to visit?" surprise coloured her voice.

"You just said we shall be friends," he pointed out.

Theodora breathed a surprised laugh, and he could hear the smile in her voice as she replied.

"Good, then. I'll have a list ready. How do you feel about Beauregard?"

"I feel hopeful that the rest of the list will be more promising," Groves chuckled.

Knowing it was only a matter of time before he was either missed or caught, he turned…and found himself face to face with Elizabeth Swann. Judging by the look she shot in the direction of the room Groves and Theodora occupied, she had heard everything just as he had – and by the one she then levelled at him personally, his reaction had not gone unnoticed.

At first, it looked like she might speak, but the sound of shuffling reached their ears, and it would not be long before they were discovered. So, she nodded in the direction of the passageway that would lead out onto the patio, and then the gardens. James obeyed. He didn't have much choice in the matter, although he held little optimism about what words might pass between them. His last conversation in the Governor's gardens had hardly gone well.

They stepped out into the night, mostly overcast which meant they would not be seen easily here, and Elizabeth turned to him, watching him expectantly. James cleared his throat.

"I feel I must apologise," he said.

She nodded.

"If my actions have caused any awkwardness between you and Miss Byrne, for I know she has become a dear friend to you, then you have my sincerest-"

"To me?" she interrupted sharply. "You feel you must apologise to me, Captain?"

"Only because I cannot apologise to Miss Byrne."

"You cannot? Have you tried?"

"Last we spoke, she asked that I leave her be. I intend to honour that request."

"You shouldn't!"

"It is for the best," he replied firmly.

"The best for whom, Captain Norrington?!"

"For…for…"

He did not hesitate because he had no answer to her question, but rather because the answer was hardly one that he could speak aloud. The best for everybody. For Theodora, because it was what she wanted, for Elizabeth, because it would rid her of whatever suspicions he harboured about he and her friend, and for James himself because…well, it would rid him of any ill-gotten confusion. Regarding what woman he should have been spending his time thinking about.

While he could voice none of that, Elizabeth's shrewd eye seemed to catch it all on his face. Of course she saw it, she was no fool. Not in the slightest.

"May I speak frankly?" she asked finally.

While her voice held none of the sharpness it previously harboured, it was still far from gentle.

"By all means," he said – and he meant it.

Months ago, he'd have sawn off his arm with a wooden sword to have her speak frankly to him, rather than through fifty different layers of propriety and social graces. That had never been a problem for Theodora. No, she—no. That was precisely the line of thinking he was trying desperately to shake himself out of these days.

"How might you have felt, back there, had Theodora accepted Lieutenant Groves' overtures?"

Considering the dread that had seized him upon hearing said overtures, the answer was not hard to come by. It was, however, rather more difficult to admit. Even now, a worry grew in the back of his mind that he had not heard the last of the prospect of their becoming more. Many a stout romance began as friendship, and he had certainly been able to cheer her with remarkable speed. If that continued, she may decide to remain. With him.

"The private affairs of Lieutenant Groves are no business of mine," he said flatly.

Annoyance flashed in Elizabeth's dark eyes once again, as bright as a strike of lightning, even in the darkness the night cloaked them in.

"If I am to speak frankly, you must extend me the same courtesy," she warned.

"I am."

"You are not! Captain, since the last time you were here, I have barely been able to pry a conversation out of Theo. Much less a smile, or a laugh. Does that sound like her?"

Whatever small hope he'd had that her change in demeanour was simply due to his return, a ward to disabuse him of any temptation to approach, died a swift death then and there. His guilt only increased. That, at least, seemed to grant the woman before him some satisfaction where his words could not.

"No, it does not."

"I have since learned, tonight, that you have hardly been in the best of moods since that night, either."

"The gossip of sailors," he scoffed.

Ones who would find themselves buried under ungodly amounts of mind-numbingly boring tasks, once he ascertained who exactly had been spreading rumours.

"Is it?"

"I shall not pretend that I do not regret my actions that night, especially if they caused you distress in your own friendship with your guest, but-"

"She's talking about leaving, you know."

At that, he could not muster an uncaring façade.

"I do not yet know how she intends to do so, but I know that she will. It is not an idle threat. Theo does not make idle threats. Your actions and your treatment of her, she has told me, were a timely reminder that she does not belong here. That she was foolish to think otherwise, and that she was foolish to develop an attachment."

"If she believes her attachment to you was foolish because of my actions, then she-"

"To you, Captain. Not to me. To you."

"Well…I…" he finally stopped gawping long enough to respond properly. "That was misguided on her part."

"Was it?" she challenged yet again.

"Yes!"

"Why?!"

Now, he found himself echoing Lieutenant Groves' earlier sentiments, his jaw clenching and unclenching, staring off into the gardens so he could force himself to speak.

"I suspect you know why."

It was not an easy thing to say. But she had demanded frankness, and so she would have it.

"Captain, I have known you for some time. A long time. I do not believe you would be standing here in such distress if you had no feelings for Theo."

"In which case, that is misguided on my part."

"Why? Because she is Irish? Or because of her social standing?"

"Of course not!"

"Because you still insist she harbours sinister secrets, then? I will confide this in you, even if I know she would not wish me to do so."

"Then you should not-"

"I know everything she has not seen fit to tell others. All of it. There is nothing sinister there, and there is nothing that might impede you. Unless you truly do succeed in driving her away."

"What…?"

"I can say no more on the matter. Trust what I have said."

James stared at her, and she stared back – as though daring him to challenge her. How long had she known the answers he sought? What were those answers? If she said there was no impediment, that would mean…that there was no husband. But how did that explain all of the factors that led him to that suspicion? Elizabeth had hinted at cruelty, but…but one did not have to be married to a woman to be cruel to her. That much made sense. Perhaps…

Whatever theories began to arise, he put a forceful end to them. Those thoughts, at least, he could control. They mattered not, when weighed upon the conversation currently at hand. So he stopped his incredulous staring, cleared his throat, and schooled his expression.

"It makes no difference."

"Why, Captain? Why does it not?" she demanded.

"I have told you why, Elizabeth!" he all but snapped. "Because it is not…it is not…"

"What you had planned?" a strong sort of knowing seeped through her tone.

How was it that she managed to pin the thoughts he himself could not even begin to untangle with such expert precision?

At that question, her implorations turned from furious to soft, though no less firm despite that. The frown was smoothed from her brow, her eyes no longer blazed, but she did not shrink or falter. James suspected she was incapable of either, much like the woman she championed.

"Captain…James…" she sighed, wringing her hands and hanging her head for a moment before she looked at him once again, resolving herself to the rule of frankness that prevailed over this conversation. "Plans change. That is perfectly alright. It's good, so long as you don't cling to the old one for the sake of clinging to the old one, forsaking your own happiness and that of others for the sake of it. There are…there are times when doing the correct thing, in the eyes of others, can be the wrong thing, if done for the wrong reasons."

He hadn't the faintest idea of what to say to that – nor if he could speak if he even truly tried to do so. Happily, or unhappily, Elizabeth was not finished having her say.

"I am not inside your mind. I believe I am correct, but perhaps I am not. If so, leave Theodora be. I would not have you pursue her as a second best option – in fact, I should never forgive you if you do. But if I am correct, and you're denying both yourself and Theodora a chance at very real happiness because you're too stubborn to see what is directly before your eyes, I shall find that hard to forgive, too."

"However…hypothetically speaking…if the latter were the case," he said slowly, feeling quite numb. "It is far too late to change anything now. Is it not?"

"That, I cannot answer. But there is only one way to find out."

"Oh?"

"Try," she said.

They remained standing there for a few long moments, until Elizabeth finally sighed and clasped her hands before her.

"I would ask one thing of you," she said finally. "We will not discuss it, if you concede. This is for your sake."

"What is it?"

Considering how this conversation had transpired, he did not dare agree before he heard the request. Once, he might have – even if the request involved walking upon molten glass. But now, he could not.

"When you return to your home tonight, put whatever plans you may once have had from your mind," she said carefully. "Only for a moment. A minute, an hour, thirty seconds, whatever it takes. Picture two eventualities. One in which you do the expected thing. And one in which you follow what it is you truly wish to do, if I am in fact correct about what that is. Consider which one brings you more joy. Make that your compass. Not reason."

He did not agree, but he knew he would do so anyway, now that the idea was in his mind. He was a glutton for punishment, it seems. But she seemed not to expect a response, straightening and lifting her chin.

"My father tells me the formalities, in the way of paperwork, are all almost concluded to secure your promotion. You'll soon be Commodore Norrington, I hear. Congratulations – truly. You deserve it."

It was not news, not to him. Although until the ink was dry, he was content for it to be news that had not yet reached the ears of the rest of those gathered here. With a parting nod, Elizabeth swept soundlessly from the gardens, save only for the rustle of her skirts. James remained. Movement was even more impossible than speech was.

She had given him much to think about.

A/N: I really loved the idea of Elizabeth parroting the advice her father gives her in TCOTBP, even though he hasn't actually given her it yet in this timeline. I just think it shows the bond and the closeness between them, that they'd give similar advice under similar circumstances.

#catch the wind #ctw #james/theodora #fallen through time esta-elavaris #ftt #james norrington/oc #james norrington x oc #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #potcfic #james norrington fanfiction #james norrington fanfic

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