#sir tempo

[forthedancingandthethriving]

That moment when you and your siblings decide that godhood is boring and fake your deaths to live among the populace of the 'utopia' you created, causing your high priestess to question her faith while your oracle nearly becomes a fanatic to try and rationalize why and how you and your siblings died.

[eresia-catara]

joseph joachim playing brahm's hungarian dance no1 save me SAVE ME

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Vow 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, arranged marriage, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!August Walker

Summary: your father’s murder leaves you in the hands of a dangerous man.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The man is quiet. The villain. The boss. The groom. Your... husband. 

The vows were what you would find in a script. Nothing special. Just standard. Just going through the motions. And when he lifted the veil, his kiss was just as prescribed. That’s it. Your life is over and his is just beginning. 

Your hand is in his as he guides you from the hall. He takes you between the pews and out the tall doors. A shower of petals rain down on you as you come out into the sunlight. There’s a car waiting. The people around you are like actors on a screen. It’s all fake. This isn’t a happy day, this is business. 

The car door shuts on the other side of him and you’re closed in with this stranger. The stranger you’ll spend the rest of your life with. You know his name and his bad deeds, but nothing else. 

You fold your hands over the layers of the full skirt. He shifts as he pulls a fold of tulle from beneath him. You watch his large hand and tremble. 

“Sorry,” you breath and snatch the skirt so that it can’t overflow onto his lap. 

He catches your hand and you freeze. You lock up, bones aching, muscles clenched. He tugs on you. You let him draw you closer as you stare at his steely grip. He brings his other hand over to pet your knuckles. The softness of his touch makes you tingle. 

“You’re scared,” he states. It isn’t a question. He knows. “If you are loyal, you don’t need to be.” 

You nod, “yes, sir.” 

He huffs through his nose, “I am your husband.” 

You close your eyes and tempo your heartbeat, “what should I call you?” 

“You know my name.” 

“Walker.” 

“August,” he insists upon his first name. “Maybe one day, you will have something softer to call me.” 

“Maybe,” you shiver and he squeezes your hand. 

“Your father wrote his own fate, you will write yours,” he raises your hand and lays a kiss on the back of it. “It doesn’t need to be the same.” 

You stare ahead. You can’t let yourself feel or you will feel everything. The fear, the grief, and even, the anger. Once they boil over, you will be lost. 

“I understand, August.” 

Another heavy exhale. 

“You will not act so cold in front of my men.” He takes your hand and forces your fingers open. “You will touch me with kindness.” He puts your palm to his cheek and leads you to cradle his face. His stubble pokes at your delicate gloves. “You will do so without my order. You will behave as a wife, so far as they are concerned. Let your father’s defiance die with him.” 

“I will not resist,” you tell him as much as yourself. 

“Goddamnit, look at me,” he says. 

You turn to look him in the face. The anger you expect is absent. He watches you placidly. Your fingers twitch and he leans into your touch. He takes your other hand and forces you to twist toward him. He leans in and before you can think, his lips are on yours. 

It is different than at the altar. Not just a peck, more. His lips part and his tongue flicks out along yours. He hums and you open your mouth. His hand creeps up the back of your neck and he locks you against him. His tongue invades your mouth and you squeak. 

He draws away and his eyes narrow, “better.” You’re unsure if he means it was better than before or that you need to do better.  

He lets you go and sits back against the seat. He closes his eyes as he pushes his shoulders wide. His feet are planted as he lingers in unspoken thought. You look at the driver then out the window. You turn back to him. 

You touch his sleeve and shimmy closer. He hums again. The tone assures you that you aren’t unwelcome. Play your part, fulfill your vow. That is all that needs to be done.  

This is more than you, there is your mother, and others beyond that. Those that were once loyal to your father. Those you called friends and family. Those who now walk the same tightrope. Those that have already fallen. 

The car stops. A flicker of panic strikes in your chest. The door opens from outside and he pulls you out with him. You keep one hand on your skirt and the other on his arm. He marches ahead. 

You enter the large building and wait in some room. He remains silent, pensive. You’re summoned and after a time. He fixes your arm to hook through his as you stand before the large doors. 

“Head up,” he girds before you enter. 

They watch you, just as before. You can hear them this time, whispering. You don’t look anywhere but ahead of you. He nods at the more notable guests. You will not doubt be met again with those faces through the night. 

He puts you ahead of him to climb onto the platform where the bride and groom’s table stands. He follows closely. He pulls a chair out but puts his hand to your back so you cannot sit. He sidles behind you. Instead, he sits with you, lifting you into his lap. 

You quiver again. Humiliation surges through you. This is his show of victory. He boasting. No, you will not just be beside him, you are his.  

[dollechan]

❝ under pressure, body sweating, can you focus? ❞

você é uma boa garota... ೀ professor!wonwoo x reader! estudante de história da arte, smut, age gap, public sex, wonwoo!big dick, pet names, sir kink de leve, oral (f.), penetração sem proteção (dollechan adverte: não façam isso!), creampie, praise e degradação ao msm tempo (?), mais alguma coisa?? a/n: são as vozes (tesão) vey, menores não interajam! wc: +1800

– Você é uma boa aluna, certo? – A voz do professor Jeon é ouvida depois de alguns minutos em silêncio, a sala estava vazia e só tinha você e ele ali. – Me diz então, por que você sempre tira nota baixa na minha matéria?

O real motivo é que não conseguia prestar atenção naquela aula, tudo era motivo para você se distrair. Não que Wonwoo fosse um péssimo professor, ou a matéria fosse chata, de maneira alguma, era a melhor aula de todo o curso e muito disso se devia ao vasto conhecimento do professor Jeon. Mas não sabe o motivo de se distrair tanto.

Você sempre foi uma boa aluna, isso era um fato, se esforçou muito para poder estudar fora do país com os melhores professores que aquela universidade poderia oferecer. Mas não consegue se esforçar quando está na aula dele.

Da mesa dele ele te olha, afiado, te faz engolir seco, abre a boca mas nada sai dela. Se sente constrangida, sabe que se prestasse atenção nas aulas as notas estariam mais altas, mas é uma matéria que você gosta tanto e até poderia dizer que dominava, mas aí não faria sentido as notas baixas e os trabalhos — que poderiam ser impecáveis, mas foram — esquecidos. Então fica quieta mais um pouco, analisando qual poderia ser a melhor resposta, mas você para de pensar assim que vê o mais velho andando em sua direção.

A camisa de botões ainda estava fechada até o penúltimo botão, a calça reta e bem costurada cai bem nele, as mãos nos bolsos, os óculos e os... — É isso. – Ele fala simplista, te tirando dos próprios pensamentos. – Esse é o problema. Wonwoo para na sua frente, parece analisar o rascunho de uma redação que ele pediu a poucos dias — e foi o único trabalho lembrado por você neste trimestre —, dá um sorriso leve, gosta do que lê. – E-e qual seria o problema? – Pergunta baixo, se sente intimidada por ele ali, bem na sua frente. – Você se distrai demais. Tá tensa? Tá cansada das minhas aulas? Me diz, querida, só assim para eu poder te ajudar.

Fica quieta, tem vergonha de dizer que o culpado disso tudo é ele.

– Se não falar vou achar que o problema sou eu... – Você olha para ele, assustada; isso responde o que ele queria. – Então realmente sou eu, né?!

– Senhor... E-eu; me desculpa! Prometi a mim mesma que seria melhor nas suas aulas, m-mas... – Mas? Vamos lá, querida, me fale. – Ele insiste, afaga seus cabelos de um jeito carinhoso, sente os seus olhos queimarem por causa da culpa. Mas culpa de quê exatamente?!

– Você, o culpado disso é o senhor! – Grita, solta a respiração que nem sabia que estava guardando.

– O quê? Ele parece genuinamente confuso, como se tivesse quebrado a expectativa dele. – Como assim, querida? – E-eu não sei, o senhor me distrai, não consigo olhar direito para o senhor, é irritante.

Uma chave parece virar na cabeça do Jeon, parece descobrir e a finalmente entender tudo que se passava na sua cabeça quando estavam na sala de aula. Ele olha para os lados, não há ninguém ali, mas mesmo assim ele inclina o corpo e sussurra no seu ouvido, te causando arrepios. – Me encontre na biblioteca daqui a dez minutos, sessão de arte, parece que vou ter que te dar aulas particulares. – Ele volta para a própria mesa, pega suas coisas e sai apressado. Você respira fundo, não é inocente, sabe que deu passe livre para ele entender como bem quisesse aquilo que tinha dito e que bom que ele interpretou daquele jeito, você queria isso.

Desde que começaram as aulas, desde que Jeon Wonwoo passou a ser seu professor, ele vem sido o personagem principal nas suas fantasias mais sujas. Foi sorte ele não ter percebido até agora o jeito que você aperta as coxas quando ele entra na sala, ou como você roe as unhas enquanto observa ele naquelas camisas que não escondem os braços trabalhados dele.

Se levanta, catando suas coisas o mais rápido possível para poder chegar a biblioteca logo. Entra e se acomoda em uma das mesas, jogando a bolsa de qualquer jeito no tampo de madeira escura daquela mesa. Olha o relógio no pulso, faltam quatro minutos até que ele esteja lá. Se dirige a sessão mencionada, com pressa, é uma das últimas prateleiras da biblioteca, um lugar perfeito.

Conta os segundos, ansiosa, até que ele finalmente chega.

O Jeon parece até envergonhado, não parece a mesma pessoa de minutos atrás. Ele te encurrala na prateleira atrás de você, mãos de cada lado da sua cabeça. Observa ele, mais botões foram abertos na camisa.

– Não tem que fazer isso, você sabe. – Conserta o óculos que escorregava pelo nariz, olha para os lados, apreensivo. Resolve tomar atitude.

– Eu sei, mas eu quero. – O segura pelo colarinho, tem que ficar na ponta dos pés para conseguir alcançar a boca dele. O beijo começa calmo, sem pressa, ele faz menção de se afastar para tirar o óculos, você balança a cabeça, “deixa”, murmura para o Jeon. Continuam ali, o beijo começa a ficar mas bagunçado, as mãos mais bobas. Wonwoo agarra sua cintura como se você pudesse sumir a qualquer momento.

Quando se separam percebe a boca dele manchada do seu batom, o óculos um pouco torto no rostinho perfeito dele e um pouco embaçado também. Ele estava uma bagunça. – Certo, espera um pouco. – Quer puxar ele de volta para o beijo, mas ele só se afasta para pegar um livro na prateleira do seu lado. – Leia, voz alta, quero que se concentre. Ele te entrega 'A História Da Arte' aberto no primeiro capítulo. Não entende o que ele vai fazer com você, mas quando vê ele se ajoelhar na sua frente sente o corpo ficar tenso. Wonwoo agarra suas coxas nuas pela saia curta que usava, ele beija elas e belisca de leve. Sente o dedos dele subirem mais, chegando a barra da sua calcinha, desce levemente, retirando do seu corpo com delicadeza, guarda no bolso sem que você perceba. – Vamos, leia. – Ele fala firme contra sua pele, sente cócegas, a respiração quente dele muito pero da sua buceta.

Sente a voz ficar falha, o mais velho coloca uma de suas pernas em cima do ombro dele, deixa selares na parte interior da sua coxa incentivando você a ler. – "Ignoramos como a arte começou, tanto como desconhecemos como se iniciou..." – Para abruptamente quando sente a língua dele passar pela sua fenda, é quente e molhado, e muito, muito gostoso. Ele sussurra um "continua" e se esforçar muito para recobrar a consciência e não gemer alto naquele momento. – "[...] a linguagem. Se aceitarmos o significado de de arte em fun..." A-ah!  – Não aguenta, o gemido sai involuntariamente. Tem que colocar as mãos na boca para evitar problemas, Wonwoo da um tapa na coxa que estava apoiada no ombro dele, sinal de reprovação. – Eu sei que você é uma putinha, mas não precisa anunciar isso em alto e bom som. Vamos, continue. – Ele volta a atenção dele para o meio de suas pernas.

– Mas senhor... – Quer chorar, sentindo a língua dele adentrar cada vez mais fundo dentro de você e os dedos longos massageando seu pontinho inchado e sensível. Tudo é demais para você. – Eu não consigo... – Sei que consegue, você é a minha boa menina, não é?! – Ele acaricia sua pele com a mão livre, devoto em te fazer sentir bem. É a primeira vez que se sente tão bem, parece que vai explodir.

A língua é substituída pelos dedos, o barulhinho molhado sendo disfarçado pela sua voz recitando o livro. Quando menos espera um tremelique é sentido, põe a mão novamente na boca para evitar que seu gemido seja ouvido pela bibliotecária. O Jeon continua a se deliciar com o seu corpo, você está sensível, lágrimas pesadas escorrem pela sua bochecha. A extrema sensibilidade te faz querer parar, usa a mão livre para puxar de leve os cabelos de Wonwoo, o fazendo parar. – Eu ainda não terminei. – Os óculos já estão fora de lugar novamente, o queixo e a boca molhados com a sua excitação e o cabelo bagunçado. Ele não poderia estar mais gostoso. Você chora mais um pouquinho, como uma criança birrenta que grita "eu quero" no meio de uma loja, mas dessa vez você não quer que ele continue. Mas quer outra coisa. – Senhor, você sabe o que eu quero... Por favor. – Ele atende ao seu chorinho, se levantando do chão frio e se pondo na sua frente novamente. A diferença de altura te assusta de novo, se sente pequena, frágil.

– Pensei em deixar isso para outra sessão de estudos, em um lugar mais confortável, mas se você insiste tanto... – As mãos vão para o seu rosto, acariciando e tirando alguns fios de cabelo que estavam grudados na sua testa, ele pega o livro que já havia sido esquecido em sua mão e o joga com cuidado para longe. Você desabotoa os botões que ainda estavam fechados na camisa dele, passando a unha pelo abdômen masculino, enquanto isso o barulho metálico do cinto podia ser ouvido de leve. Ele se põe dentro de você de una forma rápida, desesperada, com pressa de te sentir. – A-ah, merda! – Wonwo solta um grunhido quando te sente apertar, você abre a boca mas nada sai. Jeon fica parado para você poder se acostumar com ele, sua perna — que originalmente estava no ombro dele, — circula a cintura fina dele. – Você j-já pode... A-ah! – Dá batidinhas no ombro dele, dando sinal verde para ele poder se movimentar dentro de você. Ele já não consegue mais esperar.

Começa devagar, tentando não te machucar. Mas uma vez que você demonstra que tá mais confortável naquela posição, ele vai meter mais rápido em você. Já não se importa com os barulhinhos, só quer gozar — dentro de você, de preferência. Ele te segura como se você fosse desabar a qualquer minuto, e talvez iria mesmo, se sente fraca. O pau grande destruindo a sua bucetinha jovem, caralho, Wonwoo nunca chegou a sequer cogitar estar em uma situação como essa. "Uma garota mais nova, sua aluna, sendo maceração pelo pau massivo dele, isso seria um ótimo roteiro de um filme pornô." — Você pensa, ou ao menos tenta, a cada estocada seu cérebro parecia desligar.

Wonwoo atinge o ponto sensível dentro de você mais de uma vez, geme sem dó, sentindo ele estocar com mais força e precisão. – Você é a putinha perfeita 'pra mim, não é?! Caralho,  sua gostosa dó caralho. – Ele dá tapinhas no seu rosto, está tão burrinha que quase não sente. Mas aí o tremelique reaparece, como se estivesse convulsionando, explodindo, você chega ao ápice pela segunda vez. Ele continua metendo, sem dó da sua sensibilidade novamente, agora só pensa no próprio prazer. E quando finalmente atinge o ápice e goza faz questão que a sua bucetinha guarde toda a porra que ele tinha para te dar.

– Isso aqui fica comigo. E isso aqui é para você, da uma lida, acho que vai entender o que perdeu. – Ele se refere à sua calcinha e ao livro, respectivamente. Observa uma gota fina escorrer entre suas pernas, sorri com a obra de arte que tinha feito em você. – Dá próxima vez, vamos arranjar um lugar mais calmo para essa "sessão de estudos". – Ele ajeita a camisa, tentando disfarçar os amassos nela. Você tenta não olhar para ele, a vergonha batendo forte.

– Ei! – Ele segura no seu queixo, forçando seu olhar para cima. – Você foi incrível, não me ignore mais e por favor, preste atenção nas aulas. Consegue me prometer isso? – Balança a cabeça, concordando. – Ótimo, se cuide. Conversamos mais tarde.

Wonwoo se despede e some entre as tantas outras prateleiras, você escorrega até se sentar no chão. Ainda está atônita com o que acabou de acontecer.

– Merda... Eu transei com o meu professor, talvez esteja ficando louca.

[eleganzadellarosa]

[9:38] - MDNI

Imagine Yunho blindfolding you, your back against the headboard legs folded back in frogtie. He’d run the cold metal gently and slowly on your inner thigh because he knows how sensitive you are there. Your whole body shivers with each passing touch and your pussy starts to convulse.

“P-please Yunho…”

He brings a hand down to slap your clit causing your body to jolt and your back to arch.

“I don’t know who Yunho is and neither do you right now slut.” Another slap.

“F-fuck, Sir. Please please give me more.”

His fingers were back to dancing across the skin on your thighs. His other hand, caressed your cheek. He thumbed at your bottom lip, dragging it down, demanding you open your mouth. When you did, he inserted two fingers to press down on your tongue. He began slowly thrusting them, reaching closer to the back of your throat each time.

“Gag like a good girl and I’ll give you what you want.”

He loved hearing you struggle, throat closing around his fingers, trying to stop the obstruction. Every time he did it, sliding as far back as he could go; you got a bit wetter and his pants got tighter. You were so focused on his fingers in your mouth that you didn’t notice his other hand stopped playing with your thigh, until you felt the pressure from him plunging two more thick fingers into your sopping pussy.

He was too horny to waste any more time and wanted you a moaning mess before he stopped the abuse on your body. You were still gagging, spit dripping down your chin and his fingers were still digging deep inside. The cold contrast of the silver jewelry that donned his fingers made your thighs shake with pleasure.

He added another finger in. They were already long but the addition of the accessories added more depth and a new layer of pleasure. Still blindfolded, purely using your senses to “see” the things happening around you. You were reaching your peak, walls clenching on his fingers begging him to let you cum, but you were smarter than that to know it wouldn’t end so quickly. You so badly wanted to close your legs to add to the pressure but they were bound tightly. First from your sloppy walls then from your mouth he removed his fingers, a whimper and pout on your lips.

He unbuckled his pants and pulled them along with his underwear down, getting annoyed with the ache and throb in his dick. You looked so pretty like this, tied up and spread just for him. Trusting him with your body; letting him do whatever for the both of your pleasure. He threw his head back feeling the cold from his fingers fight against the heat from his skin.

You felt the thick, fat head rub between your folds and concentrate on your clit. It made your body vibrate with anticipation, knowing what was to come next if you were good. Inch by inch, the absolute mind blowing stretch had your eyes crossing. His pelvis flush with yours now, you could hear how close he was based off of the low growl in the back of his throat. He kissed up your chest to your jaw and then to your ear, licking the shell of it.

His thrusts were powerful and quick; he wanted you to be ready to cum just as fast as he was ready to. Your moans filled your ears, your voice slightly strained. Your body burned with desire, senses heightened. A hand around your neck and finally the piercing bright light from the blindfold being removed. A mixture of love and lust present in his eyes as he looked at you.

“Such a good girl for me.” He whispered against your lips.

Your thighs were starting to burn from the friction of the rope; there was only so much more you could handle. He kissed you again, this time his tongue sliding into your mouth. You breathlessly moaned against his lips.

“You wanna cum?” His thrusts sped up but his tempo lost its rhythm, indicating he himself was close to spilling.

“P-please, yes” you felt so overwhelmed, constantly teetering at the edge of insanity.

He brought a hand between you and quickly rubbed harsh circles over your clit. His hand on your neck squeezed tighter and the dizzy feeling in your head mixed with his huge dick gliding through your walls made you see stars. Your toes curled and your body was stiff; your orgasm hit you hard. Not long after did you hear him grunt as his warmth filled you to the brim.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Night 221: Liar’s Night

words: 1.7K rating: E pairing: Gale x Tav summary: A night for tricks & treats at the annual Blackstaff Academy Masquerade Ball. An certainly more treats than tricks that Gale had hoped for. tags: kinktober - masquerade, f!oral, public sex, fluffy smut

Ao3 - 1000 Night Series

---------------------------🟣----------------------------------

Gale huffed as he adjusted his mask, trying to straighten it. It was rather itchy too. He wished he could have just used a glamour like some many of his colleagues tonight.

Liar’s Night. A festival in honor of Leira & Mask, gods of trickery, deception, and illusion.

It was often celebrated with people dressing up in costume to ‘trick’ the gods into thinking they were someone else. Though celebrated up & down the Sword Coast, in Waterdeep, the celebration was very elaborate. As home to one of the greatest magical academies, people took their effort in the illusions very serious.

None more so than the academy itself.

As a student, Gale often wondered what the professor’s masquerade ball was like. The smaller celebration for students was often quite involved, so he had to assume that the professor’s was over the top. It did not disappoint. The main ballroom had been decorated with beautiful crystals straight from the Underdark and beyond. Intricate weavings of pumpkin vines from some of the best herbologist magicians this side of the druids. Candles floated in mid-air, a common trick, but would change on their own with the tempo of the music played by an invisible orchestra. Seeing his colleagues unbutton their collars for a bit, dressed so unique & silly, was also quite impressive.

“Gale my boy, where is that enchanting wife of yours?”

“Hard to say, Elminster.” Though not on staff at the academy, a wizard of Elminster’s acclaim was welcome at any magical gathering. And Elminster would go just about anywhere with free cheese. “It’s a little hard to see with this mask.”

“Hmmm…her suggestion, I take it?” The older wizard asked. Though not really asked, as he seemed to already have his answer before Gale nodded. “I thought as much. Do not take this the wrong way, my boy, but I would not have thought a proud peacock like you would cover put his visage so willingly.”

“Did you just call me vain Elminster?”

“Not so much ‘vain’ as more….proud of your appearance. And which you should be, my boy. Enjoy your looks and your youth while you can. They will be gone from you sooner than you know.” The older man huffed a little, seeming defeated by the weight of his own years a bit, before he sipped his wine. “I will leave you to search for your mate then. Do say goodbye before you leave though.”

“We’ll find you by the buffet I take it?” Gale quipped as his old mentor departed.

Alone in the crowd for a moment, Gale continued to try and scan the room for his wife. She had said that she would met him at the party, saying it was silly for him to come all the way back from classes just to return a few hours later. Gale said he didn’t mind what man would, arriving at a party with a beautiful woman on his arm but she insisted.

“Excuse me kind sir,” he turned around at the gentle tap on his shoulder, thinking it was someone looking for the loo again, and felt all the air rush out of his lungs, “could you direct me to the nearest stream?” There before him was Tav. His beautiful Tav. Dressed in what he could only assume was a water nymphs costume.

The intricate, flimsy material moving around her body like waves on the sea. The flecks of sparkle like moonlight blinking in the sea. Her mask, not nearly as cumbersome as his, just some delicate pieces of white coral by her temple with makeup over her eyes. Clearly her inspiration that of the Umberlee charges they helped while in the Gate. But where they looked ready to slay a man in divine vengeance for their Bitch Queen, Tav looked as if she would lure a man to the sea, who would willingly follow as a sacrifice to the Mother of Oceans for just one more glance at her.

“There…there are no streams here.” Gale replied. Collecting himself and turning fully towards her. “But there’s a pretty large fountain in the south corridor I could interest you in.”

Tav giggled. The sound like sea breeze through a chime. “I suppose I will have to make do. What’s a handsome man like you washing up on these shores?”

“I’m looking for someone.” Gale told her. “A missing love.”

“Missing? Oh, how horrible.” She stepped closer and placed her hand at his chest. Even with the thick cut of his jacket he could feel her pulse there. Although maybe that was his own heart. “Anything I can do, to help a poor lost sailor?”

Gale clasped her hand and, without a word, cast Dimensional Door. Suddenly, they were no longer in the thick of the party but in a secluded, unused portion of the ballroom. Gale torn off his mask and threw it to the ground somewhere in the dark before he kissed Tav feverously.

“Where did you get this dress?” He asked when he finally let her go.

“I made it.” She told him; would her wonders never cease. “I thought it would be a cute couples costume. Nymph and pirate.”

Suddenly his outfit made sense. Gale hadn’t questioned it. Interested in the party but less on what he was wearing, and trusted her judgement. “Well then, it seems I have caught myself a nymph in my net.” Gale replied. Falling back into ‘character’. “According to legend, that entitles me to three wishes for your freedom.”

Tav giggled again. “Alright. What are your wishes, handsome sailor?”

“I want to taste you.”

Gale kissed Tav again, deeper this time, before he moved down to her neck. Her skin tasted like salt. Gale wondered if she had added it to make her costume that much more authentic, or if it was just his imagination. He moved further down. Kissing the patches of skin her costume left dangerously bare as he moved the kneel in front of her. “Gale,” Tav hissed quietly, “we’re at a party!”

“You said you would grant me any three wishes.” He reminded her. Her blush an intoxicating contrast with all the blue. “This is my wish.”

With no further complaints from Tav, Gale moved the ruffles of her skirt aside. Letting them fall over him like a curtain as he reached up to spread her legs and lapped at her center. His wife moaned. Fingers gripping into his shoulders at the hem of her skirts to keep quiet. Gale used his practiced tongue to work her open. Moving one leg carefully onto his shoulder by her hand to give him more room. Taste her deeper. He was pleased to feel Tav buck her hips against him in a soft cadence. Using his mouth to gain her pleasure. His cock straining in his pants in reply.

In the quiet dark of their little corner, Tav moaned between the bite of her bottom lip as she came for him. Her sweet ocean coating his tongue before he pulled out from under her skirts. “Everything you wished for?”

“And then some.” Gale replied. Looking up at her with reverence before he stood to his feet. “For my next wish, I wish to be inside you.”

“Yes please.”

Tav wasted little time helping him unlace his pants and hike up her skirts again. Gale was pleased with her eagerness. Maybe it was the moment, or the fact that they were still at his work party, but she seemed quick to join with him; compared to their usual slow & passionate love making.

Gale held on to Tav’s legs when she wrapped them around his waist. Using the wall to brace them before he slid his cock inside. His little nymph moaned. Clinging to him as he fucked her. Thrusting in & out with ease from the wetness of her orgasm and tongue just moments ago.

“Don’t stop.” She begged him. “Feels so good. Don’t ever stop Gale.”

How Gale wished that could be true. To be joined with her always. To be one forever and feel her around his cock for eternity. Sadly though, all good things must come to an end, and the wizard grunted as his hips stopped. Coming deep inside her.

Gently, he let Tav down and allowed them to adjust themselves. Gale groaned as he straightened his back. The lower part tense from the strain and his impulse decision to lift his wife. Well worth it, but he was paying the price now.

“Shall we go back to the party for a bit, my love?”

“Yes we…Oh…Oh dear…” Tav giggled as she looked at Gale. Covering her mouth as she snickered. “Your face is covered in blue.”

Gale was surprised, although he really shouldn’t be, and touched his cheek to find blue paint at his fingertips. “Nine hells…” It was probably in his beard too. It would not do to go out looking like this; their disheveled appearance already a dead give away that they had not been taking in the pumpkin displays nor the night air.

“Think we can sneak out the back?” Tav asked.

“Now that you mention it, I just so happens I know a way to sneak out through this back hall.” A memory for his school days that was proving quite useful.

The couple snuck out through Gale’s hidden escape route and out off the campus to head back home. Once there, he took Tav in his arms again. “Sorry my impulsiveness ruined your costume. And the chance to show it off.” He apologized. “You just looked so lovely. I couldn’t help myself.”

Tav chuckled at his apology and offered him a kiss. “No need to be sorry. We’ll be better prepared for next year I suppose.” Gale smiled. Delighted at the thought of next year. And the year after that. And the year after that.

His wife wrapped his arms around his neck to stare lovingly at him. “You never told me your third wish, sailor.”

Gale grinned. He tilted her chin up, holding just before their lips touch to whisper, “Forever.” His one wish. His only wish for a very long time.

Tav leaned up to seal their lips together. Like the stamp on a contract. “Done.” She told him. “Now, handsome sailor,” Gale grunted as Tav hopped up into his arms. His lower back whining again as he held her up. “You’ve caught yourself and sullied a fine nymph this day. You’ll have to clean her up.”

“Oh yes, woe be unto he who interrupts a nymph’s bathing rituals.” He teased back. His cock already getting excited again as he carried her to their bathing suite. Eager to show his water nymph how long he could hold his breath for.

[jammiee097]

Night out

Summary: You and your two friend went out for a night at the club, not knowing were you would end up ..

Warnings: Bestfriend! Han x reader, Bestfriend! Jeongin x reader, toilet sex, p in v, unprotected sex, 2 guys in the same night, FWB, perv! jeong!n x reader, Car sex, kinda public sex, I think that was it, let me know if I forgot something

Enjoy!!!

it was supposed to be any other night out, you would go out with your best mates, Jeongin and Han and just have fun through the evening.

You didn't know if it was the alchol, the many shots you guys have or the wat they were wearing, but you got extremely horny from the two of them. So horny that exactly 20 minutes later you would be riding Han's dick in the club bathroom..

it all happened when "Ride from Sir mix-a-lot" came on and you started pushing your butt against Han, it was just dancing you told yourselfs, it was just dancing that his hands came on your hips. him enjoying thay lovely ass of yours against his dick. it made him feel euphoric. it was just dancing you told yourselfs when you looked him in the eyes and said the line "I wanna ride, Ride" and he felt his dick twich in his pants. it was just dancing you told yourselfs when you two were so close against each other the only thing you could do was look at each other and just breath really fast.

it wasn't just dancing you found out when you made out with Han in the bathroom of the club. His lips so soft and warm against yours, almost falling onto the floor from all the tension between you and him. He would moan softly on your lips when your hands touched his chest, or his lower belly. He stopped the kiss when your hand found its hardened crotch. He would moan softly into your ear, wanting to bite and lick every part of your body.

You giggled and putted him on the toilet. He pushed down his pants and underwear. his dick jumping out of his tight boxers. You gasp a little because of the length your best friend had. something you thought you would never see of him. You slide down your panties and positioned yourself down on his dick, your hands finding his shoulders, his hands on your waist, still feeling the soft fabric of your short dress. the dress that made him secrectly inlove with you when he saw you.

He moans at the sudden touch of your insides. "Fuck y/n, your so - Ah - tight." He moans and faces the ceiling. the light flickering at the same tempo you were going down on him. You moaned out his name, making him moan again.

You ride him softly, almost to gentle. Teasing Han with your tempo, you rode little circles on his dick, your own pleasure so much you forgot about him. His hands squeezed your waist a little, he got frustrated from your slow movements. "Yeah were not gonna do that.." He says and moves his hands to your ass and pulls you up a little, just enough for him to fuck into you hard enough to make you both lose control of everything.

You were a moaning mess, His mess. "You feel, so, so, Fuck I'm gonna cum.." He whispers into your ear slightly biting on your earlobe. You moaned his name enough for him to go faster. his moans turning into cries, as fast as he went in and out of you, he came in your dripping cunt. "Fuck baby, if I knew this earlier, I would've made you my fwb." He whispers and kisses you.

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

you went back to the dancefloor like nothing happened. Jeongin, your other bestfriend wasn't supposed to know what just happened in that bathroom. He would get jealous of Han, he would get jealous because secretly he had a crush on you since he met you in highschool 5 years ago, he would get jealous because he jerked off to the sound of you pleasing yourself with the vibrator he saw you buy secretly online. He would get jealous because he would do your laundry so he could steal one of your panties to leave his freshly cum into it.

But maybe you wanted him to be jealous, so jealous he would fuck you rough in his car that you guys came into for the club. Maybe you wanted him to kiss you all over your body, not leaving any skin for him not to touch. Maybe you wanted him fucking you from behind, slapping your ass, moaning your name. Maybe you wanted him to eat you out in that car because you always imagined your vibrator as his tongue eating you out, flicking your clit.

Maybe you guys both wanted each other and it was finally clear this evening. Otherwhise you two wouldn't be kissing against his car, the club music playing silently in the background. Almost ripping each others clothes off wanting to be in each other, wanting to feel each other. you'd moan into the kiss leaving him smirking against the kiss. you would fall onto the backseat of his car, only wearing your bra and panties, his lips going over your lips, neck, collarbone, tits, sucking on your nipples, kissing your stomach. literally putting butterflies into your stomach and then removing your panties with his teeth.

Jeongin turned you around and pulled down his pants. closing the door of his car. He placed his dick at your entrance, just teasing you, teasing himself before enjoying the best cunt he had in years. The cunt he wanted for years, but not years. "Fuck baby.." He'd moan finally entering you. he would kiss your back, leaving a trail of saliva onto it.

It wouldn't take minutes for him to speed up. he wanted to start slow, knowing you had your problems, but he couldn't hold himself in, he needed you, he could finally give you the world and orgasm you deserved. "Let me fuck you like your deserve princess." He would say, slappig your ass, crapping onto it and speeding up. You'd moan out loud, almost gagging onto your moans. he went so fast and deep your could cum any minute, No, Second.

He spread your butt cheeks allowing him to go deeper and harder into you. "Baby you feel so good.." He'd moan. You placing your hand on the window that was fogged, wanting to hold onto something.

"I'm gonna.. Fuck- Im gonna." you started wanting to make clear you were gonna cum on his dick. "I know I know, cum for me baby." He would say against your back, kissing it again, not getting enough of you. "Me too." He would moan, getting slower and sloppy. Jeongin and you would cum at the same time, something that never happened in both of your lives. making it feel so special. "Oh my god.." He says and turns you around. Kissing you with his soft lips. "This is not gonna be the last time princess, no way."

[angelap3]

"Nessuno esce vivo da qui.

Quindi, per favore mangia cibo delizioso. Cammina al sole. Tuffati nel mare.

Dì la verità che porti nel cuore come un tesoro nascosto.

Sii sciocco. Sii buono. Sii strano.

Non c'è tempo per altro."

Sir

Anthony Hopkins👑

[dollwrites]

Doll my beloved I am PLEADING for a dizzy drabble featuring possessive!Kamisato Ayato, possibly with some VERY light degradation, in honor of Ayato’s gacha return

— ⟡ dizzy drabbles disclaimer !!

all dizzy drabbles are written when i am extremely high ( or, dizzy ) and they don’t contain a trigger warnings list. if there’s no indication by the request, you can assume that the fic is nsfw + dark-leaning, if not blatantly dark. these pieces are never proof read so mistakes are probably present. < 3 enjoy your experience

“What did I tell you, hm?” Ayato’s voice was as soft as silk and much too steady, it was almost unnerving. “I don’t like it when you leave the estate. You draw too much attention to yourself; too many eyes gawk at your beauty.” with a gentle touch, his slender digits trace the veins in your neck upwards, until the warmth of his glove-clad fingertips tilts your chin upwards. coaxing you to crane your neck and look up at him as he fucks you from behind. when your eyes meet his, his hips buck forward to slam against yours in a deep, meaningful thrust. as if claiming your insides. “That beauty— is off limits to anyone else.”

there’s a finality in his voice, as if you were and always would be his property.

“S—sorry, sir.” you whine, breathless with your eyelids fluttering. Miss Ayaka asked if I would—“

“Do you belong to my sister?” Ayato questioned, a thin brow arching. the corner of his lip twitched, and his free hand grasped the edge of the desk that you were bent over. “Or, do you belong to me?”

your toes just barely ghost against the floor, and you can feel your panties discarded there, having been shimmied all the way down, and then shook off to the rhythm of his punishing thrusts.

“I…” you gasp, feeling his fingers tighten on your jaw, as if ready to squeeze if you gave him the wrong answer. “Y—you, master!”

“So,” another deep stroke, and you could feel him pulsating inside you, his throbbing veins rubbing your twitching canal raw. it makes you mewl, but the pathetic sound is drowned out by his next question, “do you do what she says? Or, do you do what I say?”

“W—what you say, ah!”

Ayato seems pleased enough by your answer, or perhaps the fervent manner in which your cunt clenches around him, because he moans, soft and happy. and a rosy tint begins to tickle his cheeks. “That’s right.” he whispers, palm pressing against your cheek. “But you should’ve come to that conclusion sooner, silly little sweetling.” a light slap to your fleshy cheeks temporarily stuns you, the sting prickling in the shape of his hand. “Because now, I’ll have to remind you what you are.” another slap, this time a bit harder, and you close your eyes against the impact, biting down on your lip as you feel the hand on the desk grasp your hip instead, pulling you into a growing and furious tempo that you know would turn into ruthless fucking in a matter of moments. you take several ragged breaths and scramble on the desk to try and dampen the overwhelming sensations that flood your body. “A pretty, but simple set of holes. For myself alone to indulge. Never forget that, sweetling. If I weren’t here to pump you full, you would have no other purpose.” with that, he gives you a startlingly soft kiss on your temple.

[moonbaby26]

Title: New Day

(Chapter 15 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader

Chapter Warnings: language, non con, dubious consent, fingering, vaginal sex, anal sex, angst, references to past chapters’ physical abuse, toxic relationship

Chapter Synopsis: The day after your near fatal incident instigated by Sir Crocodile, the rumor mill is churning both within and outside the palace walls as everyone now tries to understand what you really are to Doflamingo. Everyone including the demon at the center of it all himself.

Chapters: 1,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7,  8,  9,  10,  11,  12, 13, 14, 15, 16

——————————

—————————— 

It was a brand new morning. A beautiful day with the sun shining as the dark haired woman strode through the outdoor market. Even this early, music was already drifting from nearby, guitar strings were strumming as vendors finished setting up for their day.

Despite the rising tempo of that musician’s fingers over those strings, no one Viola saw was yet in a hurry. No one seemed nervous. She could hear laughter as people greeted one another, passing in the street. She could see their smiles.

This was her island and her people, briefly feeling to her as they always should have. 

The Donquixote soldiers that were meant to be acting as her guards, she’d ordered to stay as far back from her as possible.

They would not be ruining this rare taste of freedom for her as she did come upon an older man seated on a stool with a guitar. The origin of the sound she’d been hearing for several minutes on her morning walk as she nodded down to him.

“Good morning, Señor. That song you were playing, it’s a favorite of mine. I was hoping to meet you.” She complimented him.

“Ah, you’re too young to know it.” He paused, a little surprised at her attention. But smiling gently at her all the same. “My wife taught it to me years ago. She sang and I played back then.”

And the way he said this, with that brief look in his eyes as he did, she knew what he really meant. 

A wife that was no longer here. Someone that had been taken from him. But Viola still smiled softly. Because that sadness wasn’t an emotion she would want to truly lose. It was the shadow that love left behind. It was all they had left.

“My sister and I would attempt to sing that song.” She shared with him in return. “But she was the far better singer than me. She passed two years ago.”

This was the polite way people in Dressrosa referenced that tumultuous time, when hell had first opened its gates within their country.

And that devil’s sycophants were now the ones lingering, growing further impatient a few food stalls away.

But Doflamingo’s guards could wait. They could wait forever for all she cared.

“I suppose I haven’t tried much since then…to sing I mean. So would you play that song one more time please, Señor? It’s been so long. But today seems a bit special I think. I’d like to try to sing it again.” She told him.

And he laughed. “You young people and your romantic hearts! I’m sure you’ll be at the colosseum with all of the others today then? It seems quite fast doesn’t it? But I suppose no man wants to be alone forever. Even a king!” Yet he didn’t leave her time to agree or disagree, amused at her as he began strumming those opening chords once more.

A surprise announcement had come from the palace last night. Spreading quickly across the island all before midnight curfew.

This afternoon all were invited, or rather expected at the Corrida Colosseum. And the king himself would be in attendance. Unusual as of late, as he’d been devoting so much time to his growing underworld alone.

Those secret dealings seemingly his only focus all until that trip he’d taken to Mariejois, to the kingdom some called heaven. Something about a war on a distant island that he didn’t want the marines interceding in. Long enough ago now that Viola had gotten to bear witness to the accumulating changes in him every day since.

“In the heavens I would have power…” Viola’s voice began carefully, not fully out of tune. But certainly out of practice as she began the first verse in time with the man’s guitar.

And you, the marine woman that the officers’ whispers and minds had said Doflamingo had actually coveted for years, the one he’d first consummated with there at the home of the gods, would also be his official guest at the colosseum this evening.

Speculation was running wild through the citizens now of what this could all mean.

In the beginning Viola had not cared, except to pity you. She knew that all Doflamingo was was the thin skin of a man pulled tightly over the bones of a demon.

Yet an incident had occurred at the palace yesterday, enough to shake even her cynical heart.

“This night like the darkness within a well. With a knife made of moonlight I would cut the bars of your jail...” Her words kept on.

Doflamingo had kept her hidden away ever since your arrival. Yet more evidence that something may really be different here.

He didn’t want her to know his real plans for you. He didn’t want the two of you to meet.

Not yet.

“If I were the queen of the daylight, of the wind, and the sea, I would tie my own slave ropes in exchange for your freedom…”

The man who had never once hesitated to punish her by showing her the most grotesque and violent thoughts of what he’d like to do to new prey had suddenly been keeping everything to himself.

Why should it matter for her to know exactly how he wanted to break you? Rape you and defile you. Grind your will to dust, and then discard you once bored as he had to so many other men and women that had briefly caught his eye.

“Ay sorrow, little sorrow, sorrow of my heart…”

Doflamingo was a passionate man, even a romantic one in truth. But just at that most carnal level she had thought.

“I don’t wan’t flowers, money, or adulation.”

Violence, seduction, and jealousy were the only notes he excelled at within that complicated dance.

But yesterday there had been a culmination of tensions. Viola had been astonished to hear that panic going through the castle, to see it in so many anxious minds.

You had fought Trebol. You had fought Doflamingo himself.

And suicide is what that choice was, no matter the circumstances. Because it had never mattered to Doflamingo before whether or not someone was innocent. To go against the executives in any way, even in self defense, was absolute suicide. It was an attack on Doflamingo himself.

But maybe you weren’t the coward that she felt she was to hide amongst them. Maybe you had already refused her fate and chosen your own exit instead.

She would not have blamed you. 

Yet all evening she had stressed. Wondering how Doflamingo would cover up your death. But every moment that she still even remembered who you were had been equally confusing. 

Why hadn’t he at least brought you to Sugar?

But finally, late that night, something in her had insisted she show a bit of her own remnants of a spine. She had dared to use her sight to scan the palace for the king or yourself and learn the truth. She’d expected the worst. Your body torn apart, and new horrific tortures she’d never be able to unsee.

Yet that was not what she had found.

“I want you to let me cry for your sorrows, and to be at your side my dear, drinking the tears of your loneliness…”

Doflamingo was with you, yes. But not in one of the dungeons. Not with you screaming or begging for him to stop and to release you with death at last.

The Heavenly Demon had been curled around you in his own bed, clinging to you with a seeming level of anxiety she’d never witnessed in that creature before.

He had been watching you as you slept, a stricken look on his face.

“My eyes hurt because I look without seeing you…”

And this was the real reason Viola now spun, unable to stop from finally dancing a bit as well in the continued rhythm of that man’s guitar.

“Sorrow of my heart that flows within my veins, with the strength of a hurricane…”

Doflamingo was afraid.

“Sorrow, the same as a cloud of darkness and flint. A runaway colt that knows not where it goes…” 

Doflamingo had a weakness at last.

“It’s a desert of sand, sorrow, it’s my glory in a jail. Ay, jail! Ay sorrow! Little sorrow…”

And it was a woman.

Viola had decided that she would do everything in her power to further your influence now.

She would force herself to live long enough to see if this little crack in him could spread.

A new opening in his blackened heart that may one day be big enough to force her dagger through.

——————————— 

Last night Doflamingo had remained strange. Mostly silent as his focus stayed split between his real body and what you assumed was the string clone still working for him somewhere else in the castle.

After making you eat, there had been that brief feel of tenderness though as you’d both undressed and he’d brought you into his shower.

The same powder of glass that’d still been in your hair from the fight, he’d then helped you to wash clean. 

That and Trebol’s remaining mucus too. The warlord had kept you from losing your balance on your still weak legs, standing in the water’s spray with you as you’d scrubbed off the last of that residue.

You’d felt his cock against you too, half hard again without either of you even speaking to one another. But he hadn’t fucked you. 

After drying back off, drinking, and eating more of the food his servants brought, you’d then fallen asleep nude in his bed even before the sun had set.

At times last night you’d felt his movements beside you. But he still didn’t talk. He didn’t make you open your eyes and interact with him.

And you were fine with that.

He’d already hurt you enough for one day. You’d had nothing else you wanted to give him as you’d kept up the imitation of sleep while he’d held you tightly.

The same as he still was now as you finally did look to the ceiling again. Just the faintest bit of new sunlight was escaping the edges of his closed curtains.

It remained dim here within his bedroom, cave like really as you felt his steady breathing against your skin. His face buried against your neck, his arms wrapped around your torso, and his legs curled up to trap your own.

But your body still ached. Now with those newest additions of a severely bruised sternum and ribs to match from you taking his hits nearly full on yesterday without armament.

He’d never given any further apology either. And the more you’d thought of even that briefest one, you’d realized it was only a-

Sorry I misread that situation.

Sorry their mistakes made me do that. 

Not actual self-accountability. Not even a hint that he wouldn’t do it all again if fed bad information once more.

And you were stuck still reliving it. Hearing the door rip apart, and the glass break as he came for you, The pain when he threw you down and the pressure when you couldn’t breathe.

But that would fade as the bruises did. You knew in time you’d move on from that. Just like anytime you’d been hurt in the field, anytime you’d been knocked down before.

The thing you couldn’t shake as cleanly was how much it hurt inside as well this time. Because it wasn’t just physical pain any longer.

It’d hurt to look up at the man you still wanted as they’d started to crush your chest in.

That was a torture that should never happen to anyone.

But something touched your face and you startled from your spiraling thoughts.

Your head turned and you saw a crimson eye narrowed at you. The milky white one beside it still mostly closed against your shoulder as the pad of his finger wiped your newly wet cheek.

“Are you ever going to stop crying?” Doflamingo’s voice asked so abruptly then. Deep, but quiet in its continued proximity to you.

“I didn’t know that I was.” You answered honestly, caught off guard and letting the heel of your hand wipe the rest of that dampness away as you looked back to the ceiling.

He made a noise in response. Dismissive, but you could still feel his gaze on you.

“What’s done is done. It’s over.” He said next, making the easy assumption of what still had you rattled. And that bit of irritation was resuming in him already because of it.

But he didn’t know the real extent. You were sure that he didn’t.

“Sorry.” You were the one to say that useless word then. But you were just trying to end the subject. Trying to make him stop.

“You’re not.” He contended. 

And your eyes did look back to him then. Fresh concern in your expression no doubt.

But you felt him just stretching his legs back out. His cock was soft, but it grazed you as he adjusted his hips. He was laying on his side with his body pressed to you so firmly still.

“What more do you want from me?” He spoke against your ear now. As if you were the one still being unreasonable. “I didn’t even maim you. What do you think I would have done to any other person on this island that took matters into their own hands as you did? Regardless of why.” He said next. His hand was sliding across your stomach now.

But his fingers just kept moving lower before you could answer. The longest finger, his middle one, parted your slit in one smooth movement to begin rubbing your clit.

And just like that it was all about what your body could give him again. 

Whether you were ready for this or not.

And apparently you were not. Not as you heard your own voice so suddenly, firing back at him. “Well…did you fuck me yesterday morning too? Because that didn’t help! I woke up with strangers in the room, and then had that running down my leg. It could have been anyone!” 

You’d taken that disgust out on Trebol too you were sure. Everything was connected in this continued trauma. 

The movement of Doflamingo’s finger paused at your outburst. 

That red eye stared at you, sharp and narrowed as he lifted his head again.

“Watch your tone with me, woman.”

Two of his fingers pushed right into your entrance then with that warning. He hooked those fingers actually, the pressure making your expression change.

“Doffy,” You grunted because it hurt.

It was meant to hurt.

“Of course I fucked you. And I don’t care if you could feel it or not. If you could remember it or not. I need you, you stupid bitch.” He answered though, with that tone of hatefulness reemerging all over again. 

But you were watching his face. 

You saw when he swallowed. When the contempt began to change to a more general upset the more aroused he became. “I can’t stop. Not when you’re the only thing that feels right.”

And there was the additional cruelty of his own inconsistent feelings. 

He’d berate you. He’d hurt you, and in the very next breath he’d practically infer that he couldn’t exist without you.

His lips were on your jaw then too. You felt his tongue ghost against your skin.

His teeth nipped that same skin. “So quit acting like you don’t understand. Like you don’t want me too…you need this. You need me.”

The two fingers inside of you were now beginning to slide in and out. They pumped into you as his tongue stretched out further this time, leaving a long wet streak across the side of your face.

“But if you really are so offended…then do something about it. Punish me. Make me feel it. Fuck me back.” He taunted next.

“What?” You breathed, at a frustrating loss for his exact meaning while his fingers continued mercilessly. The way he’d said this gave away that it was now something different he was asking for.

“I’ll let you. I’d do that for you.” He grunted, his hips shifting suddenly as you now felt the tip of that awakened cock rubbing against you.

“I don’t…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” And the words were already getting harder to say. 

Harder to think of as you felt yourself getting wetter for him regardless. His fingers moving in and out so much easier now.

“Your cunt wants a break doesn’t it?” His crudeness continued. “Your ass too after what I did to you, right? I fucked you so hard when I was in there the other night, didn’t I?”

And you were feeling more heat inside of you with every insulting word. 

But he was starting to smile again. He looked so hungry actually. “Then do it to me. I’ll show you how.”

His thumb was back over your clit, working it in tandem to his fingers now quickening their already rough pace inside.

“Cum for me, and then I’ll let you fuck me. We’re both going to feel good today after the shit we got put through. We deserve this.”

Oh, so now you were a team all of the sudden? As if the power imbalance here wasn’t still so extreme.

But it didn’t matter.

Not when Doflamingo’s tongue was now forcing its way past your teeth.

You heard and felt him moan into your mouth. It was so dirty. So unrestrained really as your thighs opened up even more for him.

You were both disgustingly pathetic. 

And the wet sound of his fingers in and out of you only made everything that much worse as you started clenching around his fingers.

That tension was building in your belly.

“Cum for me…let go. You’re so close already aren’t you, love?” He broke the kiss enough to say this against your mouth. Right before he nipped your bottom lip.

The sharp little pain was almost simultaneous to that whip like feel. Like a tightening rope finally snapping inside as you felt your body tremble and hot fluid wash over his fingers.

Doflamingo inhaled sharply, looking down at the unexpected mess that had made.

The humiliation you felt was instant, but the remnants of the full body orgasm he’d just given you weren’t easily dismissed either.

You were panting.

And you heard him laugh. He laughed before his face was then nuzzling back into yours.

“I guess I should have let you take a piss before we started, huh?”

It wasn’t excessive. But it was well enough for you both to know that couldn’t all be female ejaculate. Enough to make a wet spot you could now feel beneath you on the bed.

“Asshole.” You muttered, even with his face still warmly against yours.

“It means I fucking rocked that sweet spot, didn’t I, marine?” He sounded all too smug in response. And even more flirty too as he kissed the side of your face. “Don’t be embarrassed, lover…even though you’re goddamn cute when you are. We’re not done yet anyway. Now it’s my turn.”

His grin widened too then as his fingers finally slid back out of you. He just wiped that hand on the dryer portion of the bedsheets before he flung the blankets fully away to better expose himself to you.

Doflamingo let go of you to move onto his back, propping himself into the pillows and looking so comfortable then before he motioned to the nightstand.

“Be a good, wet girl for me then, and crawl over there to get the biggest one so we can play some more. It’s all or nothing for me.” And he sounded like he was goddamn bragging. Bragging and commanding you all at once as your mind had yet to fully accept what was now happening here.

You were still trying to process the orgasm that had made your legs feel like jelly all over again.

What in the fuck was your actual life in this moment as you did crawl across the mattress eventually, then on your knees at its edge before you could reach the drawer of his nightstand and pull it open.

Which was a sight that really should not have been meant for your naive eyes. There were toys in there that you didn’t even know the use of. Intimidating things you were afraid to even goddamn touch as you peered down into that private stash. 

Packs of condoms were there too, different kinds of lubes, and more…pills? They weren’t the same shape or color as the ones you’d taken before. They were in a clear bag, beside another bag with some kind of white powder inside of it.

The fuck was that?

You did not want to reach your hand in.

“Just grab a dildo, woman. This doesn’t have to be complicated.” Doflamingo chided. A little louder then, getting more impatient.

And you did have to force yourself. Pushing the unknown things out of the way to sort through some of the more familiar looking style of toys.

You pulled one out that seemed to be the largest like he’d requested, and it looked entirely painful by your personal standards. Bigger than any of those he’d used on you the other night. But honestly, very close to his own physical size once you glanced back at him with the toy in your hand.

“That’ll do.” He smirked. “I couldn’t remember how many I still had in there.” 

And he settled back even further into the pillows, putting his arms briefly behind his head as he began spreading his legs.

“Don’t worry about lube, beautiful…let me see you use that mouth of yours instead.”

“What?” You stared. 

His always impressive cock was flushed with blood by this point, hard for this long already without any relief. Rising up from that fine blond pubic hair and pointing firmly towards the ceiling as he held his thighs open shamelessly to show you it all. 

One of his hands did move back down, lifting his own sack off of the mattress as he began to palm it.

“Suck the toy, marine. Deep throat that if you can. I want it good and wet before I show you how to really take it.”

But you didn’t want to. Your hesitation clearly said as much.

And his reactions were becoming that much sharper in response.

“Oh goddamn it, don’t be so high maintenance. Anything in that drawer was already washed. It’s clean.”

Your eyebrows still lowered. Yes, even you knew how arbitrary it seemed on the things you would finally resist him on. 

But the way he was leering at you, the way his legs were spread eagle and waiting like you owed him this. This wasn’t even an experience you had had before.

And something about it made you feel more like a whore than ever.

“What is wrong with you?” Came his exasperated tone next when you still hadn’t put that dildo in your mouth.

And your shoulders sank. He was on that edge of getting angry all over again. 

“If you fucking cry one more time…” He still fussed as your posture had changed however. That blood vessel starting to show in his forehead. “I already said I was sorry, (Y/N)!”

That damn word again. But it sounded so petulant this time.

So desperate.

“Just give me that, you idiot.” And a string had jerked the dildo from your hand. Pulling it away from you and into his grip instead as his tongue angrily ran out to run the length of it.

He put the whole thing in his own mouth soon after even as he glared at you.

Spit edged from his lips as he began to suck it. 

You were of course stunned once more. Discomfort still there for you too as you watched this inexplicable scene while Doflamingo’s cheeks hollowed out with that purposeful sucking. And he didn’t choke at all, nearly the full length of the toy then within his mouth as he pumped it in and out briefly while watching you spitefully.

When he did pull it all the way out again, spit was fully down his chin and soaked across that toy.

He did not care.

“That’s how it’s fucking done.” He growled, but still not looking away from your face. “Get over here. Now.”

And you did comply again then. But with that unwillingness still in your expression as you crawled back to him on the bed.

As soon as you were close enough though, his hand that was not holding the toy shot up to catch you by your throat.

You made a defensive sound and he smirked as he felt the resistance of your armament already beneath his squeezing hand.

“Why does everything have to be this difficult lately? I thought we were having fun.” He lamented, actually unable to make you choke that easily in how strongly your armament was then shielding you. You weren’t as weak as you’d been yesterday.

And he sighed when you still wouldn’t submit to this even rougher play. But he smiled again as he let you go just as abruptly. He finally used the back of his hand to wipe his chin then.

“I just want you to fuck me, lover…I don’t take rejection well you know. You’re hesitating too much. You’re hurting my feelings.”

The last words were said mockingly. But he was still goddamn insane, as usual. Just jumping from one emotion to the next. Had either of you even been awake long enough yet to already be going through all of this?

You took a deep breath. “I’m not rejecting you, Doffy. I’m just-“ Overwhelmed? Depressed? Traumatized?

“I just want things not to hurt. I don’t want anything else to hurt right now.” You managed, but still feeling at a complete loss of how to make someone like him understand any of this if even for a moment. 

And the responding coldness in his eyes was far from comforting as he grabbed your wrist this time, bringing you onto his lap to straddle him.

“But life is pain. So why ask me for the impossible?” His tone was still short, but his volume did quiet as he held you there. 

With you there between his legs, he brought that still wet dildo down between you both. He inhaled, letting your wrist go as he reached to grab himself again. He was then holding his own balls up and out of the way as he moved that toy beneath them.

He still spoke to you as he did, his eyes on yours as he angled it against his own opening that you could not see. “The important thing is that we can now hurt together. You have me. And I’m showing you my pain too, aren’t I? I’m letting you in.”

And he groaned a little, you getting to see that true discomfort move across his face as the tip first entered him.

You were silent as Doflamingo breathed deeper, him pausing as if to adjust to even that much of it inside of him.

“Damn. It really has been a while...” He said, like he was a bit taken aback himself at the new feeling.

But with it now started, his large hand moved back over your wrist.

His grip was warm, and far more gentle this time as he guided your hand to the base of that toy.

“I want it to be you.” He breathed again. There was no mask of a smile any longer. Just this man looking up at you needfully, anxiously even as he made your hand close around the toy. “Push it in, love. Fast or slow…whatever feels right to you. I trust your judgement…please.”

And even if you were sure that every new word of his was fully intended to make you have the exact reaction that you now were, this still wasn’t something you could control.

You felt the new heat in your chest as his tone had changed. You were embarrassed again. It felt like you’d never even had sex before all of the sudden.

And of course you hadn’t like this. Not with the roles reversed this way.

You knew what it felt like for you though, to have that pressure just edging your entrance. The longer you made him wait, the less kind that would be, wouldn’t it?

Oh, you were so in over your head though. Yourself flustered and him still never looking away from you as you finally did start to push it in him.

Doflamingo gasped quietly, his lips parting in a way that immediately had you feeling some kind of way between your own legs again.

Your body was fully confused in this moment actually. 

But his wasn’t. You saw his abdominal muscles tense and even his cock twitch as you still slid that thick toy gradually deeper inside of this man.

The resistance was weird, but you could tell he was relaxing as much as he could. You were being so mindful of his expressions too. Even pausing to let him adjust again whenever you’d see that brief flit of pain reenter his eyes.

And something about that level of care from you did bring a rare softer look across his attractive face. “I knew it…” He chuckled despite himself. “If you had a dick, you’d be so gentle with it at first. Wouldn’t you, my love? So responsible with your weapons.”

He was smiling again then, a fully pleasured one before he let out a small moan when you did continue pressing in again.

“Almost flush…come on.” He said next. His eyes were going half lidded too. A near look of adoration in them now for you. “It feels so good, woman…don’t stop.”

It was hard to look away from those rare emotions either, you not wanting to miss out on any of what he was now offering you in return.

But you also found yourself uneasy to finally realize that all of that toy but the bit you were still holding onto had now disappeared.

It was all the way in. He’d really taken it so well.

And he was still laying on his back beneath you, thighs spread wantonly with his head and shoulders just barely propped up in the pillows as a new urge overcame you.

You left the toy fully in him as you moved back up that long torso of his just enough to kiss him again.

And this surprised him. Likely so much of his focus already just on that sensation of being filled, waiting for you to start thrusting before your mouth was abruptly over his.

But he certainly didn’t stop you. Far from it as his mouth opened in return, wanting to taste you again immediately as you felt his hips roll. His hand grabbed into your hair to hold you to him long enough to deepen that kiss as well.

“Oh, fuck,” Doflamingo breathed against your lips in between kisses, nipping them briefly again when he didn’t want to let go of you. “You don’t know what you do to me…no one…they didn’t do it like this.”

And he wasn’t even making sense now. 

But he was trying to.

So you did pull back a little, your hand then stroking down his chest as you listened to him.

And even that additional soft touch set him off too. His hips rolled hard again as he looked at you desperately. “Why…why are you like this? Why are you so good to me?” He managed, finally articulating what he really meant with the last words. “Why are you so kind to me?”

Of course that question stunned you all over again. But not just for hearing it from his mouth. Because you weren’t sure how he’d even come to that conclusion, and right now of all times.

“I…what did I do?” You asked genuinely, letting him begin kissing your jawline again when you hadn’t yet moved back fully away yet.

“This. Goddamnit all of this.” His frustration was palpable. But he didn’t want to stop. “You…you don’t just fuck me. You kiss me…you hold me. You pet me…it drives me fucking crazy.”

Really? Just because of those simple things?

Your own surprise was surely evident. In all the bodies he must have partaken of through the years, you were somehow a standout?

And for what?

Just for being intimate with him? For giving instead of just taking or cowering?

“Doffy…don’t you get it?” You asked him suddenly then. Your hand was still warm over his chest. You had paused your palm there as you could feel his heartbeat beneath his muscles. That beat was growing faster. “I give you what I would want. I mean…why wouldn’t I do that?”

And his hand moved over yours against his chest. He squeezed your hand, very tightly but not quite painful.

He smirked darkly. “You…are either the best or the worst thing that has ever happened to me in this hellhole.” But his hips moved again as that laugh of his emanated out. “So fuck me like you love me. Finish me properly.“

Almost gently he pushed you back then, back down to sit near his open legs again as he put your hand back on the end of that toy.

It was clear what he wanted most now, rolling his hips again as he watched you needfully. 

And so you did it. No more stalling as you gave your monster what he wanted. Thrusting that toy at whatever speed he would take.

First slow, and then faster as you got to watch the king of Dressrosa begin to fully unravel for you. 

But you felt no guilt. Nor did he want you to. Doflamingo’s approval was clear in the way he threw his head back and even arched against the mattress the more you pressed.

“Fuck…yes, it’s been too long…yes, just like that…” He moaned as those claws of his began fisting into the bedsheet. 

And before long it was your own name repeatedly leaving his panting chest.

You would have been lying to say it wasn’t making new slick between your own legs to hear his normally prideful voice start to break for you that way too.

But you were still more focused on what you were doing to him. Not what it was causing in you as his eyes met yours again.

“Harder…I know you can. Please, (Y/N).” He was already speaking in gasps now. But you still obliged, feeling like you were holding a damn dagger by this point.

Being told to stab it into him over and over, working your wrist and your arm to do so.

His poor cock looked to be painful by now as well as it bobbed in the air with the continued movement of his hips, nothing to thrust into as it leaked precum all over the head.

And in all of his panting and the increasing volume of your name across his lips like some kind of prayer, the thought did finally cross your mind to do something with that neglected cock.

He didn’t deserve it of course. Not after all he’d already done to you. You’d just told him how messed up it’d been that he’d still fucked you when you were blacked out too. You’d told him you wanted a break from hurting. 

But his moans kept on. This shameless motherfucker who could abuse you so thoroughly, and then turn around the very next day and gladly put on a vulnerable display like this.

Your own renewed slick was now thick enough to actually begin edging out. Gravity bringing a hint of it onto your thigh in the way you were currently positioned as your hand still moved to keep fucking Doflamingo.

You didn’t want to get pounded by him yet. You really didn’t as your body was still very unhappy in all the damage it had accumulated recently.

But just being filled yourself for a moment? You could tolerate that couldn’t you? He wasn’t going to be lasting much longer anyway. The changing rhythm of his panting always gave him away when he was already this near climax.

What would his face be if you did this though? Would that expression be worth any additional price you were about to pay?

His eyes were closed now, he was living for those sensations you were rocking through his body as his hips moved in time with your non stop thrusting of that toy. 

Which made it trickier. Keeping your hand and arm movement going, thankfully with some marine stamina to help you out there as you raised up onto your spread knees.

Just open enough to fit him between your thighs of course.

And the mattress movement as you shifted wasn’t enough to warn him. Even if it was, he likely thought you were only trying to find a more comfortable way to sit.

He couldn’t know anything was actually different until he’d felt the first touch of something against the tip of his weeping cock.

But by the time his eyes had opened, your slick had made that initial push all too easy. Just that brief spike of pressure to clear the head, and that small gasp of pain from you before you had slid down onto as much of his length as you could take.

Your channel squeezed around him immediately as his girth stretched you painfully as always, tight to the point of almost being too much to withstand.

And the absolutely awestruck look on Doflamingo’s face as he fully realized what you’d just done, without even being asked to, was an expression you doubted you’d ever see from him again. He nearly came right then and there with that surprise you were sure.

Only you stopping your thrusting of the toy briefly then as you’d tried to adjust to him inside of you had allowed him that extra time to process this.

You were still having to hold yourself up a little as well, not wanting to put too much pressure against your cervix as you watched the man beneath you try to remember his own voice. 

You had rendered the Heavenly Demon speechless. Though his hands wasted no time finding your hips, helping you steady yourself on his length.

Reflexively you tightened on him again and you felt his cock twitch inside of you in response.

He took another shaky breath, still staring at you like you weren’t even human any longer. Like you had materialized straight from the heavens to anoint him with this dual pleasure.

“Let go of the toy,” his voice was practically a rasp when it finally did reemerge. “I’ll move it. You just sit there and stay tight on me…god, gods I can’t…I…fuck I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

And he sounded like he was pleading, or dying. Like you were actually killing part of this man.

But you saw his fingers move. You were getting better at seeing his strings too. The tiny glimmers they made even here in the shadows of those still closed curtains.

His strings were now hooked to the toy. He was going to fuck himself while you took care of his cock in the way only you could.

And once that did restart, with the toy moving in and out with his strings and you rocking your hips and squeezing around his attention starved shaft simultaneously, Doflamingo let out a euphoric moan louder than any before it. One they had to have heard all the way downstairs.

And it was your name he was calling out to the world. 

Like a curse and a salvation for him all at once. It was a fucking scream as he finally came.

He was shuddering, thrusting up into you as you felt his cock pulse again and again. Each pump a shot full of his seed, hot and purposeful.

“Yes…goddamn yes,” he was still panting, still trembling as he pulled you down onto his body. His cock continuing to empty itself inside of you as he held you to him.

And you let him do it. You breathed with him, the heat of that fire between you both so apparent again.

It had become make up sex with a king. Reconciliation with your warlord as one of his hands moved back into your hair and the other went protectively across your back.

He was caging you to him as his chest rose and fell. And you closed your eyes in that warmth, silent again just to hear him breathing. 

You did love this part of it. You really did.

If only it was enough to ever outweigh every other fault in you both.

—————————

He’d let the servants open the curtains at last while they’d delivered breakfast at his command. This new sunlight filling the dining area not being something he’d normally ask for. He usually liked it cooler, darker in here within his chambers. A less stimulating environment when he needed that to withdraw to.

But he wanted to see you better this morning. He wanted to appreciate what was still fully novel to him as you sat near him. Just the two of you sharing a quiet breakfast at the long table in his suite.

He’d only pulled on a pair of pants. Shirtless and barefoot, blond hair not even combed yet as he ate while watching you.

Sex always made him hungry. And he knew you were still working from a caloric deficit anyway. He’d figured out already that you ate less and less the more stressed you were.

Like bringing home an exotic pet, he had to learn your environmental quirks. He had to force you to stay healthy enough to survive after all of his personal investment already in you.

And he’d known there’d be an adjustment period. Some violence surely if you were pushed too far, too fast.

But Crocodile had thrown fuel on that fire. And it’d nearly worked. Just like everything that reptile did. The plan was almost good enough, but fell short in the final leg. A stumble right at the finish line.

He hadn’t even called Crocodile yet either. Though Doflamingo’s mind had churned with so many thoughts of revenge and how close he’d really come to losing you. Painfully angry even long into last night as he’d lain awake holding you while thinking of how to fix this.

That sandy fucker had no right to toy with him now. And just like in Scylla, when Doflamingo had had to abruptly pivot, deciding to bring you home then and there after Crocodile’s attack, he’d felt his hand being forced yet again now.

He had to let his enemies know there was no indecisiveness in him. You weren’t just a new distraction they may be able to harm and thereby simply annoy him or force him to negotiate for. 

This wasn’t him just taking a new mistress for fun. This was him setting up the future that he wanted. You were his family now.

And he was going to let the world know. Then if anyone still dared to come for you, they’d have to do so in full knowledge of the scorched earth that would bring them.

No one harmed his family.

“After we eat, I do have some more things to take care of this morning. But I need you dressed in your best marine garb for this afternoon. I’m taking you to the colosseum then. And I’m expecting practically every seat to be filled there. Diamante is quite the promoter for special events like this.”

The piece of potato omelette still on your fork held there for a moment as you glanced over to him. You so casual yourself in some faded marine training shirt, the material thinned enough that he had been enjoying you clearly being braless beneath it.

“To fight?” You asked surprisingly serious.

Enough so that he scoffed, rolling his uncovered eyes at you. You were still an idiot at times. Still a human after all. “To spectate, darling.” Not that the idea of you fully healed, running around the arena breaking jaws with your kicks and slitting throats with that rope dart of yours wasn’t a very strong turn on in its own right.

There weren’t many female gladiators. The public would eat that shit up if you could be flashy enough about it. You were a bit serious when you fought right now.

Maybe after the child came. You’d probably be itching by then for some postpartum violence and a return to form.

You were a warrior after all.

“We’ve fallen off of the front page again in the papers if you hadn’t noticed. I think it’s time for another public appearance.”

“Why would I want to be in the newspaper? Fuck that.” And you did start eating your omelette again then.

It was obvious the drugs were back out of your system at least. Those pills had dulled you so much yesterday. Your attitude was back in full force today.

But he was in a good mood now. Getting to penetrate you while you penetrated him was an itch he had not expected to be so thoroughly scratched this morning. That had been fucking paradise actually. “Because you want to help our dear mother, don’t you?” Doflamingo taunted, smirking in full knowledge of how much this was going to push your buttons.

And you stilled again, giving him a colder look immediately there. “Tsuru?” You still had to ask.

“Obviously.” He confirmed. “I mean, you’re not fully stupid I know.” He was just being a dick for the sake of it now. He was enjoying every additional interaction with you actually. “Haven’t you wondered why she’s been stationed on the same pitiful island chain for weeks upon weeks now? A strategist like her should have had that rebellion extinguished in days.”

“Have you had your hand in it?” You accused abruptly then.

And he was honestly a little surprised at that. But you were still learning him too. He could forgive it for now. He had obviously benefited by her being away there for so long too. Those circumstances alone had practically dropped you into his lap.

“I don’t interfere with Tsuru-san. Not as Joker, not as me. No, I cut all ties with Lyra as soon as she got assigned there. I’m not the one delaying her.” He said honestly, even through the remaining skepticism in your eyes.

“It’s the world government that decided to bury that place, long and slow with blockades she’s been ordered to maintain. And Big News Morgans has started snooping around about it. So many have died. He’ll drag Tsuru’s name through the mud too if he doesn’t have a better story to sell papers with soon. So you and I can be that story and save her the defamation.”

“How many have died?” You were starting to look more bothered. You were realizing you may actually believe him.

As you should, because he was telling the goddamn truth for once. “Probably a good thirty percent of the total population. But nearer fifty, even sixty percent in certain towns. Because the government is also using that rebellion as the perfect testing ground for some new lab grown diseases of theirs. With Tsuru maintaining their blockade, there’s no medical assistance in or out either. No one to tell on them of how unnatural that contagion really is.”

“Then how would you know?” You were still trying to hope he could be wrong.

And there he did grin again, smugly as his legs spread a little once more beneath the table.

“Lover, have you already forgotten what exactly it is I do for a living? I’m not just your personal cock toy…though I am enjoying the benefits of that new role.”

“Then is Tsuru okay…is my crew okay?”

Oh how sad. Like a puppy missing its littermates. “Of course she’s fine. The government didn’t allow the marines to enter any of the diseased towns either. They’ve got Cipher Pol quarantining those. Your little troop has been spending all their time stopping blockade runners and sniping the surviving rebels in the mountains.”

But he saw the way you still didn’t look satisfied. “Why didn’t she tell me…she never said it was that bad.”

“You know how she is. She probably thought you had enough on your plate. Namely…me.” He smiled again.

“I should be with them.” And it was like you were talking to yourself then. The new guilt in your expression was obvious.

But finally here, he did feel that bit of irritation trying to start in him again. Yes, he knew how attached you must still be to your crew. Tsuru had saved you. No different than him pulling Baby 5, Monet, and Sugar from poverty and what would have only been a life of sexual abuse mixed with the constant threat of starvation for those girls otherwise.

And had never touched them. He would never dream of it in that context. They were family.

He could do these things to you though, because he’d seen you as a potential mate even from first sight.

They were like little sisters to him. But you were not. Even if he may tease you as such, with Tsuru as the common maternal thread between you.

“They’re fine without you.” He said carefully. Actually trying not to let his jealousy fully burst out. He didn’t want this good mood ended already. “I need you here.”

And it was intentional, the way he moved with his long arm easily reaching out for his hand to close over yours on top of the table.

“Like I said, we can help Tsuru-san here by being a good distraction. So she doesn’t have to deal with public accusations of mass murder that she has zero control over. I know she’s still been letting some medicine and food get through in secret anyway. She’s doing the best she can while still playing by the government’s rules on the surface. That woman is incorruptible. As always.”

And you still looked sad. Annoying to him really when he was right here in front of you, giving you his full attention this way. He wanted your mind on this feeling between the two of you instead, thinking of him alone. 

“(Y/N).” He said, relaxing his eyes as best he could. Emoting as best he could to regain your focus. “I need you.” He reiterated, even more intentional this time. Even more heartfelt he supposed it would be called. A skill that could be practiced and honed like any other tool in his manipulations of course. “This is your home now. With me.”

——————————

Your hands were in the pockets of your marine coat, intentionally so he could not hold either of them as your boot heels clicked on the stone streets.

What were you supposed to do? Doflamingo would have pulled you out here on his strings anyway if you hadn’t come willingly.

He wouldn’t have allowed their group to be humiliated by a no show when Diamante had already promised the public an appearance from you both this afternoon.

But you still didn’t buy any of his shit about this being a performance for Tsuru’s sake. Though you were now worrying for her and your crew still as you did your best to keep a neutral expression.

The Donquixote foot soldiers were keeping the curious onlookers at bay as you walked with Doflamingo towards the Corrida Colosseum.

Reporters had remained on the island, hoping for this very thing as cameras now flashed again and questions were yelled out to you both here and there.

For now the warlord was ignoring them though. Those red sunglasses rarely looked away from you.

“You know it’s a bit insulting for you to still be wearing that weapon when we’re out together.” Doflamingo said then, but that amusement so clear in his tone. “I’m all the weapon you need you know…”

Unless the civilians were excellent lip readers, they wouldn’t know what kind of small talk was really occurring here in the other noise of the crowd. And you were still so cognizant of everything you did with your own body language as you kept your eyes on the street ahead and where you were walking.

“If I’d had my weapon on in Scylla I wouldn’t have to still be dealing with this failed amputation.” You replied dryly. That swordsman never would have been so lucky if you just could have disarmed him with a haki infused rope and strangled him until he confessed who he was really working for.

“You left my side that night, darling. That was your own fault.” Doflamingo still chided though. Followed with a taunting, “But you’re barely limping today. Perhaps they won’t even notice with your legs covered this way. Does it still ache?”

You had chosen to wear leggings beneath your skirt this time. Covering the wound and all those bruises. “It hurts like fuck, you ass.” You said lowly.

And he almost cackled at the abruptness of that. 

So much so that you finally did look up at him in mild surprise.

“Didn’t Tsuru ever try to wash out that filthy mouth?” He practically cooed afterward.

Only then as you saw some young women giggling and blushing in your peripheral vision did you realize that to everyone else’s eyes this must look like real flirting, like familiarity already.

His attention was so clearly on you, the tall man walking fully at your side to better interact. Not even in front of you this time to lead. And him then laughing and smiling as if you’d said something endearing. 

Prince charming is who they somehow still thought he was, a fairytale come to life right before their eyes. They had no understanding of what lay behind it at all.

But you couldn’t judge their ignorance. Not when you knew so much more and were still right here beside him.

This very same man that had shown you the edge of death yesterday. And the same man you’d willingly climbed on top of this morning to briefly ride the cock of as he screamed out your name.

What a cursed pair the two of you were.

And he actually looked happy about it, proud even.

This bastard was out here living his best life while you were trying not to have another breakdown. 

Yes, what a complete shitshow this really was.

———————————

There had been lines all the way down the street just for admittance today. And it was even more of a madhouse once they’d gotten inside. This former gladiator knew the corridors well here however, holding the young girl’s hand firmly as he hopped at her side.

“Please stay close. Keep your face covered.” He reminded her yet again as he saw her getting distracted in all the spectacle.

“It’s hot, and I don’t like this on my face.” She still complained though, looking back down at him with her small voice almost lost in all the boisterous conversations around them.

“We’re only staying long enough to see what all this fuss is about. Then we’ll be going home.” Home being only the latest abandoned hovel that no one would search for her in. He hadn’t been able to convince Rebecca to stay there today while he made this rarer trip to the city.

But, it also hadn’t taken much of her arguing with him either really. The little tin soldier was still afraid to leave his young daughter alone out there in the countryside for long.

The girl who didn’t even know she had a father any longer while he kept tightly with her on their way to the public seating.

The sheer number of people here made her being recognized rather unlikely. But it was always a risk. So he’d made her tie a scarf around her face. Just below her wide and anxious eyes as inconsiderate adults bumped her this way and that in the crowd.

Kyros had to restrain himself not to say anything on her behalf. Knowing a normal toy would never make such a spectacle against humans.

He needed to remain focused as well. All the top members of the Donquixote family were now in attendance. 

His contact from the Tontattas had confirmed this. Even as the dwarves had been equally excitable with the fact that they had indeed still seen you alive this morning.

Details of yesterday had been rather spotty with the dwarves intense fear of Doflamingo making them rather unwilling to visit the palace for long. And certainly never letting themselves become trapped in the same room with him.

But Kyros understood there had been some sort of fight yesterday. That you had stood up to Trebol to break his nose even. A wound that executive still had bandaged today in fact.

It was truly unheard of.

So of course the dwarves and their optimistic hearts were already whispering of miracles.

They said Doflamingo had spared you out of affection.

Everything was always face value to them until brutally proven otherwise.

But Kyros had been in the throne room that first night of the invasion. He’d seen the truly pleasured smile on that animal’s face as King Riku had kneeled broken before him. While the former king had begged before that monster for mercy that Dressrosa would never see.

The little tin soldier could not fathom any love ever existing within such a wicked man.

Doflamingo was but a conqueror thirsting for more every moment, every second. More power, more control, more blood, and more suffering.

He was a beast that must be slayed for any of them to ever know freedom again.

So Kyros had come to witness this new lie with his own metal eyes. Because the Tontattas were surely misconstruing it somehow.

They thought you must have some special power over even Doflamingo’s missing heart. They wanted to believe in you so badly.

They hoped that a kind queen may soon rise to free them.

But Kyros had begged them to wait, to not make contact with you yet. 

Even if you had wished to help them, it didn’t mean that you could. It could be only another elaborate trap, you but another puppet on that demon’s strings. 

And the Tontattas weren’t alone in their immediate emotional investment in you either. That was clear in the excitement of the crowd as the tin soldier and Rebecca finally found an empty space they could cram into between other spectators. 

Like every other toy now in this stadium though, the war for this country had never ended for Kyros. His anguish and hatred were still the only real feelings he could muster as the humans beside him cheered when their king did finally appear. A blond devil grinning wide within the royal viewing box.

The very root of all that was wrong with their home. Their captor and tormentor, now with you at his side.

————————— 

Diamante had truly outdone himself today. It was perfect really. Only even furthering Doflamingo’s excellent mood as he heard the crowd now cheering his name.

He reached out, his fingers catching briefly over your hip as he guided you to sit beside him in the open air box.

You tensed at even that small of a touch though. You were still wishing to remain so proper in public. 

That time was about to be ending though. And he already was broadcasting that to anyone paying attention. Which was everyone of course as he extended his long arm over the stone seat back just behind you once you had sat at his side.

Gatz’s voice was already loud over the stadium’s speakers, welcoming the crowd to this afternoon of special exhibition matches put on by request of his majesty who was now gracing them with his rare presence.

Because it really had been a while since he’d been to the colosseum in person. He’d been too busy with his responsibilities as Joker, too busy with chasing you.

But now you were here and so was he. And you’d just noticed the large projection screen. Normally meant to showcase the highlights of the battles below to the crowd. But those visual transponder snails were focused on the royal booth in this moment to the people’s further delight as you quickly looked away.

“Don’t be so cold.” Doflamingo spoke to you with that continued amusement. “You’re still representing your precious marines here too you know. Don’t you care about this island’s citizens? They’re dying to get a chance to catch your eye…”

Quite literally perhaps.

On Doflamingo’s orders, Diamante had already let his prisoner gladiators know of today’s special rules. 

With you as his official guest, whichever fighter was judged as performing the best in the matches to come would earn the unheard of right of a full pardon. Not that unattainable thousand match bullshit that Diamante normally tortured them with.

But that pardon would come from none other than you. Just for today, Doflamingo would be granting you that authority, though you didn’t know it yet.

He wanted them to love you. He couldn’t show much mercy, even when used as a tactic with ulterior motives. Because he had to maintain full control here. But you could. You could be the facade of the softer hand when he needed one.

Doflamingo could have you secure the trust of even the ones that already knew enough to fear him. And you could help him weed out more of the traitors then when they’d inevitably come to you for help.

He was smiling, you making his life better in every way in this moment as he got comfortable. Legs spread again, his knee against yours as one of the servants brought the first tray of drinks by.

And he knew there was a diamond ring in his pocket as well. The one he’d picked out from the jeweler’s tray Monet and Sugar had presented him with earlier today when he’d told you he had a few things to take care of before getting ready to come here.

By this time tomorrow every piece of trash that had ever tried to cross him would be seeing a picture of that ring on your hand in the newspaper.

It was a fucking beautiful day to be king. A beautiful day to have everything back under his control, including you.

———————————

    T⨂  BE 

CONTINUED

———————————

Thanks for reading!

Author’s note: The song that Viola sings in the beginning is just my own English bastardization/loose translation for story purposes of the Spanish song “¡Ay Pena, Penita, Pena!”. Please go listen to the real thing.

[lieutnt]

kinktober - #6

daddy kink w/ bratty!simon "ghost" riley x top!male reader kinktober masterlist

It’s a release for Simon - his days filled with ‘Yes sir’ and following orders, rarely given the opportunity to disagree, go against what’s asked of him. So when you find some time alone together he likes to push back. You ask him to do something and with a glint in his eyes he’ll turn to you and say “Make me.” You do, handling him a little rougher than usual, fingers twisting his hair or a hand on the back of his neck as if you’re scruffing a dog until he goes pliant underneath you.

Sometimes it’s not enough, on days when Simon wants the brattiness fucked out of him he’ll put up a fight, grinding his hips against you even when the rest of his body is pinned, mouth purring out taunts that go straight to your cock. “C’mon, show me what you can do, daddy.”

That works, has you yanking down his pants and boxers and only pouring enough lube on his hole that helps stretch him out but he can still feel the bite of pain, a tight groan punching from his chest as you go from teasing his rim with the tip of your finger to bullying in to the first knuckle, giving him little time to adjust before you’re pushing your whole finger in, his body squirming to get away from the intrusion.

With an iron grip on his hip you don’t let him, leaning over his back to nip and bite at his neck. “Thought this is what you wanted, baby? Is it too much for you?” You ask, voice teasing while he shakes his head no, arching his spine as another digit threatens to join the first. Simon bares and grits his teeth at the stretch of a second finger, chest panting to breath through the temporary discomfort. 

As the pain blooms into pleasure the brattiness breaks through, Simon fucking himself on your fingers even when they still. “You just gonna sit and watch me?” he barks, a flicker of irritation igniting. You withdraw your fingers, slapping an open palm down on one cheek when he tries to chase them, a strained whine bubbling from his throat.

“You gonna be good and stay still?” You question, purposefully taking your time in unzipping your pants and drawing yourself out, lining your cock up with his hole and resting it there, stroking yourself while Simon begins to fidget, teasing your head with his rim. Your grip tightens on his hip and he groans, willing himself to still. “Good boy,” you say, finally, devastatingly slowly, pushing past the tight ring of muscle until it gives, inching yourself in and out until your hips are pressed snugly against his ass.

He breathes out a deep, “Fuuuck, daddy,” causing your hips to jerk forward, a dirty trick that has you landing another smack to his cheek.

You press yourself against his back, hands moving to rest either side of his head as you lean down, “You gonna behave now?” Simon nods, pretty blonde lashes fluttering as you roll your hips forward, the snugness of his hole like heaven around your cock.

Drawing back you take hold of his hips, pulling out until just the tip is resting inside before thrusting back in all at once, knocking a deep groan out from Simon’s chest. You set an unrelenting tempo, able to hear each collision of skin against skin as Simon lets out strained ‘ah, ah, ah’s’.

Shifting your body you start catching his prostate with each thrust, intentionally grinding against it when he loses control of his mouth and shouts, toes curling in pleasure. The more you press against it the more sanity he loses, eyes rolling back until he’s chanting your name.

With a huff you tighten your grip, ripping away his pleasure as your hips stop. When he turns to look at you over his shoulder, all bleary eyed and face pulled tight in confusion you grind forward, “That’s not my name Simon.”

He blinks, what you said taking a moment to filter through his brain before he’s hiding his face into the plush mattress below, murmuring a meek “Daddy.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Long Snake Moan 1

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Loki

Summary: your boss gives you a task you're not prepared for.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“I think it’s best it comes from you,” Tony pats your shoulder. You stare at him in disbelief. 

“Me?” You bat your eyes dumbly. “But I just... I’m just passing along the information--” 

“Look, sweetheart, I’m in the middle of a PR crisis here.” He flashes his phone screen at you. The talk of Stark Tower has been his latest disaster out in the middle of nowhere. Usually, these things are forgotten but an unfortunate post has made the rounds. “You delivered the message perfectly, you can do it again.” 

“But, sir, with due respect, this isn’t exactly in my job description.” You walk backwards as he strides around his desk and tucks his phone away. 

“Your job is to do what I tell you to do. Now,” he looks at you, his eyes flicking up and down, “I think you’re the best possible carrier pigeon for this. Look at you. That ungodly asshole can’t be mad at you and I definitely am not telling him. Not without another explosion and I’m on probation right now.” He taps his chest and his suit expands around his body. “His brother should be wandering around, maybe he can help control the beast.” 

“Sir, don’t make me do this--” He goes to the window and hits the button to pop out the pane. 

“I pay you well enough, sweetheart, so get to work.” He jumps out and his helmet covers his head, blue flame blasting from his heels and gloves as he takes off into the sky.  

You cringe and look down. You should quit. You’ve been reciting the mantra to yourself for months; quit, quit, quit. You wish you had that choice. So far, your resume hasn’t baited any takers. Even with all your work for Stark Industries. Considering who your reference is, you’re starting to wonder. 

You glance around and steel yourself. You walk out of the office and down the hall. Your low heels click, in slow tempo with your dread. You trawl the top floor, searching for a certain blond giant. Thor isn’t anywhere to be found. You’ll have to try the compound... maybe you could just give them a call. 

No, you know Mr. Stark wouldn’t like that. Even if you could get a hold of either of the Asgardians, your boss would make you face the music in person. You take out your phone and scroll through the contacts. Most of them, you’ve never had to call, they’re only there for emergencies and usually, you’re not the one calling them for that. 

You put the phone to your ear as it dials. It rolls for so long, you’re certain you’ll get the voicemail. It picks up at the last moment, the line buzzing and unclear. 

“Hel-lo?” Thor’s deep baritone greets you. “It is the little assistant, yes?” 

You can just make out his hazy words. “Yes, Mr. Odinson? Can you hear me?” 

He laughs and you hear him shuffling around. The crackling stops and the line clears. “Mr. Odinson. You Midgardians. It’s Thor.” 

“Yes, Thor, well, um, where are you?” 

“Is there something the matter?” He asks as his tone turns dire. “Where are you, little one?” 

You ignore the question tossed back at you and clear your throat. “Um, it’s about... um, I think it would be best if we had this discussion face to face but Mr. Stark told me to pass on some news and yeah... I’d like to meet up if poss--” 

“Little one!” Thor appears before you, out of breath, his phone clutched in his hand. He didn’t hear a damn thing you just said. You smile. You’ve trained that expression so well, it’s almost believable. “Where is the danger?” 

You almost laugh. It’s endearing to have him so concerned. You doubt his brother will be as accommodating. 

“Hi, uh, like I said, it’s nothing serious. It’s erm, do you know where you brother is?” Your voice hits a pitch so high it makes your ears hurt. 

“Ugh, what has he done now? I swear, I’ve told him--” 

“It’s nothing he’s done. Well, it’s kind of it. Okay, um, Thor, I need to talk to your brother.” 

“Loki? You need to talk to him? No one wants to talk to Loki,” he narrows his eyes in consternation. 

“Yes, well, I have a job to do. I’d also appreciate if you’d be there to, you know, act as mediator,” you make yourself small as you push your shoulders up to your ears. “Please?” 

“Of course, little one, of course, let us go find that snake!” He grabs your arm before you can react and almost has you off your feet as he drags you down the hall. “I left him in the lobby. He isn’t fond of this place.” 

Maybe that will make this all easier, you think. 

Thor doesn’t slow down. You stumble with him as you struggle to keep your shoes from falling off. You tap his arm as you get to the elevator. 

“Really, we can take our time,” you assure him as he jams his finger into the down button.  

You’re really in no hurry for any of this. You’re almost hoping that if you put this off longer, someone else might just come along and tell them for you. You know that won’t happen but you can hope. Even so, Tony has more important things to do and as usual, you’re left with his grunt work. 

[hey-august]

Buggy detaching his head to get a better look is so good. Reader insert watching Buggy detach his cock and fuck himself with it while they watch is also so fucking good.

You wanna see how he does it. Maybe you’re not secure in your pegging or assfucking abilities yet, maybe you just want to see what feels the best for him, maybe seeing your clown burrowing his face in his pillow face down, ass up just really fucking gets you going. Whatever the case, I’d be a happy little voyeur for sure. Maybe you’d even get in on the action a bit and literally grab him by the balls just to set the tempo a little, hear him gasp when you go a little deeper but slower and watch his toes curl.

Bet Buggy has a love hate relationship with this stuff at first, his powers can be so fucking sexy, but in his mind there’s something slightly pathetic about using them on himself like this…. But he’s a showman at heart, so it doesn’t take long for you to get those sweet whimpers out of him when you tilt your wrist juuuuust so and to groan into the pillow when you pull him out of himself completely, just to admire how a string of precum connects to his loosened hole as it clenches around nothing.

He can’t deny it, you being so into it gets him bashful…. But also it gets him going… the shame makes him want to crawl in a hole…. And his cock harder than anything… And if that wasn’t enough, then that hungry, mesmerized look you give him after he came and he can feel himself drip out of himself…. Well if anything could convince him to try this again it would be THAT.

This was shorter at first but I have a mighty need right now. Uh. Something something a clowns speciality are cream pies after all. *rimshot*

Listen. Listen, anon, I don't even know where to start, how to follow, what to say, what to feel—

Like what can I do after you dROP THIS WHOLE ENTIRE MEAL?? IT'S DELICIOUS. IMPECCABLE.

And there is SO MUCH to unpack and explore here. Let's talk about some:

It's pathetic using his powers like this? Sir, yes it is. It actually isn't, but it is. Buggy detaching his dick and fucking himself silly is the kind of thing that happens when the horny thoughts drown out everything rational. The kind of thing where post-nut clarity hits TOO HARD. But not hard enough, because you know this guy has done it more than once.

They way he can fully indulge in making himself feel good is one thing, but to show other people? To show you? To let you see what kind of pervert freak he actually is? Why…why is that a turn on? Fuck. Has he always been this tight?

Okay, let's add more to the perversion. Just imagine his dick (no ball attachment this time) sliding in. Like, all of it. Gone. Hell, maybe it even took a few tries to get it all in and stay in. Now it's hidden deep in his body and leaving him so full that there isn't any more space for the embarrassment. Maybe just a little bit of pride when you coo and tell him what a good job he just did. Pride that does actually melt back into embarrassment when you ask him to push it back out. Buggy does it anyways, whimpering, shaking, while you continue pour compliment after compliment on him.

"just to admire how a string of precum connects to his loosened hole as it clenches around nothing." EXCUSE YOU, I NEED A COLD SHOWER

That's delightful for so many reasons. Buggy has been stretched out by his own dick. That's kinda fucked up, right? That's what he thinks, but damn, it is wonderful. It's wonderful to work him up to that - to use Buggy and fuck him until it feels like he was made for that purpose.

AAHHHHHHH.

Now, tell me. Did you end this with cream pies and rimshot on purpose? Like, on purpose on purpose?

Because

BECAUSE.

As tired and exhausted as he is, Buggy decides not to use what little strength he could muster to turn down your next request.

Honestly, his head is still fuzzy. Buggy's still stuck in that space where he just wants to be used and played with.

So when you ask him to clean up, Buggy is more than willing to let you detach his head and hold it oh so gently while licks and sucks his tender hole clean.

Has Buggy tasted his jizz before? Yes. Many times.

Has Buggy eaten ass? Yes.

His own ass? Well, yeah. He'll reluctantly admit to a little lick. Only because he was curious.

Has he ever slurped his own cum out of his gaping asshole? Now he has.

Meanwhile, you get to enjoy the pathetic little whimpers that escape in between the absolutely filthy wet noises he's making.

You enjoy how he's leaving his face paint all over his own ass cheeks.

You can scratch his scalp and press soft little kisses to the crown of his head, feeling Buggy's needy moans reverberate in your own skull.

You can stroke his dick, which is trying so damn hard to get fully erect and earn another fucking. But the poor thing is tired. It twitches and leaks whatever is left to release, giving up on another climax.

Maybe tomorrow. Maybe…maybe the next day, actually. Looking at your worn out clown who has literally fallen apart before you, you decide that he deserves a break. And some sweet sweet cuddles.

[amethvysts]

DEAREST READER — F1 GRID.

#sumário: headcanons sobre os pilotos inspiradas no universo bridgerton, e também nessas fotos aqui. #pilotos: carlos sainz, charles leclerc, george russell, lewis hamilton, max verstappen. #avisos: 7k de palavras então tá longo! algumas tropes são inspiradas em bridgerton (duh), e, muito provavelmente, existem algumas inconsistências históricas. só papo de casamento. não tive criatividade pra criar um título bonitinho pros divos, então é tudo na base do nome. não tá revisado.

💭 nota da autora poderia ter escrito um drabble pra cada um? SIM! but i didn't want to *laser eyes*. então, fiz uns headcanons que tão bem grandinhos porque simplesmente não consegui parar de digitar. tem uns que eu tinha desenvolvido muito mais, mas ficou simplesmente gigantesco, então cortei pela metade. gostei bastante de escrever esses, então espero que vocês gostem também! todos os créditos para a parte do russell e do sir lewis vão para a musa @imninahchan ♡ espero que gostem!

1 – O FAMILIAR CONDE VERSTAPPEN.

♡ㆍA família Verstappen havia se mudado para a propriedade ao lado há pouco mais de dez anos. E desde então, é impossível pensar em uma vida onde Max Verstappen não faça parte. 

♡ㆍVocê, a mais jovem entre seus irmãos, e ele, o herdeiro ao título do pai, tornaram-se amigos rapidamente. Pela idade similar e o interesse mútuo em cavalos rápidos de corrida, a ligação havia sido instantânea, mesmo que reclamasse da competitividade do garoto sempre que assistiam a uma corrida juntos. 

♡ㆍCom o passar dos anos, estabeleceram que eram melhores amigos. Não que não fosse óbvio aos olhos alheios, mas foi como firmar um contrato verbal. Um arranjo para a vida.

"Você é a garota mais legal que já conheci," ele declarou, na tenra idade de onze anos. Estavam escondidos embaixo da mesa do escritório do seu pai, dividindo uma travessa de doces que haviam surrupiado da cozinha. Mesmo tão jovem, já era uma pessoa difícil de jogar elogios por aí, e talvez por isso, seus elogios fossem tão ruins. Mas você o conhecia bem o suficiente para saber que o que dizia era sincero.

"Que bom," responde, distraída enquanto retira o recheio de cereja do bombom. "Porque você é o garoto mais legal que já conheci". 

♡ㆍA propriedade dos seus pais rapidamente se torna o refúgio de Max, uma maneira de fugir das expectativas e implicância do pai e viver como um jovem comum. Descobre a felicidade de fazer nada com você, após passar a manhã se esforçando para completar as lições de seus tutores. Leem livros e discutem sobre os enredos e seus personagens favoritos, conversam sobre os eventos da alta sociedade e também sobre suas expectativas para a corrida de cavalos daquele fim de semana.

♡ㆍPassam os momentos mais relaxantes juntos, mesmo com as discussões que surgem quando escolhem equipes opostas para torcer. Longe dos teatros da corte, podem ser genuínos um com o outro. Você não precisa fingir ser alguém que não é quando está com ele. Não precisa monitorar a altura das suas gargalhadas, a quantidade de biscoitos que come, ou a maneira que está sentada. 

♡ㆍE percebe que ele também não se importa em ser aquilo que o pai o obriga a ser durante todos aqueles eventos rigorosos. Em sua companhia, ele deixa o futuro título de lado e pode ser apenas o Max. O seu melhor amigo que já quase se afogou quando caiu no lago de patos da sua propriedade, salvo por você, e que em troca, te salvou de quase cair do seu cavalo quando saíram para passear pelo bosque. 

♡ㆍMas o tempo, às vezes, também pode ser traiçoeiro. Antes, aquele que os tornou inseparáveis também tornou-se motivo de distância. Ao atingir a idade adequada para começar a lidar com os negócios da família, o seu Max foi tirado da sua vida de forma abrupta e dolorosa. 

♡ㆍVocê nunca ignorou a maneira a qual o pai de Max, o Conde Verstappen, tratava o filho como se fosse nada mais do que seu herdeiro, uma pedra preciosa que necessitava ser polida para os seus próprios jogos políticos. Era difícil não perceber o peso da responsabilidade nos ombros de seu amigo, que assim que atingiu a idade considerada apropriada pelo pai, se fechou totalmente. 

♡ㆍAo visitá-lo em sua residência, quando sabia que Conde Verstappen não estava por perto, você era sempre recebida da mesma forma: a preceptora de Max, com aquela cara azeda, tinha o prazer de atendê-la apenas para te dizer que "o herdeiro Verstappen está muito ocupado no momento, senhorita". E mesmo com sua insistência, o máximo que conseguia era apenas deixar uma mensagem que nunca era repassada. 

♡ㆍEntão, com sua estreia, passaram a se encontrar apenas nos eventos da alta sociedade. Por um tempo, sentia tanta raiva do rapaz que mal conseguia encará-lo por muito tempo, e procurava sempre escapar de qualquer possibilidade de interação.

♡ㆍEssa necessidade de evitá-lo fazia com que você se tornasse alheia a atenção, sempre tão dedicada e repleta de anseio, do rapaz. Os olhos azuis te acompanhavam pelo salão, morosos e ardentes, carregados da saudade que só você seria capaz de identificar.

♡ㆍE, apesar de ser um dos homens mais cobiçados do recinto, Max havia ganhado uma reputação que nada lembrava aquele que você conhecia. Dava a impressão de ser um recluso, sempre afastado e desagradável. Passava a noite conversando com os amigos de seu pai, todos relacionados a política, e recusava ser apresentado a qualquer moça, raramente participando das danças. 

♡ㆍNão surpreendia que, mesmo com toda a popularidade que ganhou sendo um Verstappen, ele ainda não tivesse garantido uma esposa, já em sua segunda vez participando ativamente dos eventos da temporada. Claro, sendo um homem, as suas tentativas não seriam contabilizadas. 

♡ㆍVocê, ao contrário de seu velho amigo, teria fazer valer a pena cada dança, conversa e trocas de olhares nos salões que frequentava. Tinha sempre seu cartão de danças preenchido, dando o seu melhor em qualquer coreografia e tornando até os piores pares em uma companhia agradável. Havia se tornado uma das estreantes mais populares, e por isso, o seu valor aumentava cada vez mais. O que te leva a crer que foi justamente por isso que Max Verstappen decidiu se aproximar de você mais uma vez. 

♡ㆍPreenchia um copo de ponche para acalmar os nervos após ter dançado uma fervorosa quadrilha junto de um jovem lorde, e respirou fundo quando notou que os pés doíam depois de tanto esforço (e pisoteadas). Mal havia levantado o braço para bebericar quando percebe a chegada de alguém a mesa que estava. 

♡ㆍ"Ainda tem espaço para uma dança?" Max, é claro. A voz parecia mais madura, mas ainda reconhecível. Não sabia se seu coração havia acelerado por nervosismo de, finalmente, conseguir conversar com ele novamente, ou se por pura raiva. Talvez um pouco dos dois.

"Felizmente não," responde com uma mentira, mais seca do que intendia. Geralmente, ao lado de homens da alta sociedade bonitos e solteiros, você era simpática, tão doce que doía os dentes. Mas esse não era um rapaz qualquer. Era Max, seu antigo melhor amigo, que foi covarde o suficiente para quebrar seu coração sem justificativa.

Sua resposta pareceu desestabilizá-lo por alguns segundos, e você pôde acompanhar o brilho nos olhos azuis desaparecer após sua rejeição. A possibilidade de cutucá-lo com a mesma adaga que te machucou parecia interessante em seus secretos planos de vingança, mas realizá-los, de fato, não surtiu nenhum prazer.

Bebeu um pouco do ponche, e distraída, perdeu o momento em que os olhos do rapaz conseguiram avistar um bloco em branco do seu cartão. Sem mesmo pedir licença, Max segurou o pequeno objeto em sua mão, capturando a pequena caneta e deixando sua assinatura ali. "Podemos dançar a valsa," anuncia, deixando claro que não teria outra opção. E então, te faz uma curta cortesia, se despedindo, "Lady". 

♡ㆍFoi assim que, contra a sua vontade, por uma mudança ridícula do destino, você finalmente teve Max Verstappen de volta em sua vida. Passara anos desejando a presença do rapaz, e quando finalmente conseguiu… tudo estava diferente.

♡ㆍApesar de sua latente desconfiança, que sempre se erguia como uma barreira em sua reaproximação, estar perto de Max era como voltar a sua infância, e por mais que odiasse a afeição que borbulhava em seu peito, não podia evitá-la. Encontrava conforto em saber que o seu Max ainda existia por baixo daquela máscara estoica que usava em todos os bailes, e que surgia sempre quando entravam em uma discussão sobre a corrida da semana, agora ainda mais sarcásticos e maduros. Tudo ainda estava ali, adormecido, parecendo apenas esperar que o causador de tais sentimentos voltasse para revirar tudo novamente. ♡ㆍO cortejo público poderia não ser mais do que uma estratégia, mas quando estavam juntos, dividindo uma conversa ou uma dança, você sentia que talvez estivesse enganada acerca de suas suspeitas.

16 – O MUSICAL PRÍNCIPE CHARLES.

♡ㆍVocê não morava embaixo de uma pedra. Todos comentavam sobre o príncipe estrangeiro que havia chegado para cortejar a escolhida da rainha naquela temporada, e você, contra sua própria vontade, sabia tudo sobre vossa alteza real. 

♡ㆍEra fato conhecido de que a cor favorita de Príncipe Charles era o vermelho, que faz parte do emblema de sua dinastia. Por isso, todas as debutantes (e solteironas, no geral) aderiram a detalhes vermelhos em seus vestidos para o primeiro baile da temporada. Dizem, também, que vossa alteza é um amante de animais, e você pode jurar que até a mais frígida das moças da sociedade adotou um cachorrinho. 

♡ㆍNão que você estivesse fazendo diferente, já que a noção de ter alguém diferente frequentando os mesmos espaços te despertava mais curiosidade do que deveria. Mas também estava ciente da dura realidade que enfrentava: agora, iniciando a sua terceira temporada consecutiva, não poderia esperar mais do que um lorde com poucas posses como marido. E mesmo assim, esse cenário ainda é muito otimista para sua situação. O mercado casamenteiro é impiedoso. 

♡ㆍPor isso, tentava não criar expectativas como as outras garotas da sociedade. Enquanto elas sonhavam em agarrar a atenção do príncipe para longe de sua prometida, você se contentava com o destino que sabia que não poder fugir. Pelo menos, tinha mais chance em ganhar os olhos dos outros aristocratas e, quem sabe, conseguir laçar um marido logo.

♡ㆍNão que tivesse pressa, mas saber que poderia se tornar um peso a mais para os seus pais era algo que não saia de sua cabeça ultimamente. Ainda mais sabendo que estavam realizando um grande esforço ao patrocinar o primeiro baile da temporada na propriedade da família, fazendo de tudo para que conseguissem se destacar no meio de tanto furor. 

♡ㆍE então, na noite que daria o pontapé para o início da nova temporada, todos são surpreendidos com a reviravolta: o príncipe não estaria presente naquela noite. Os membros da alta sociedade, tão arrumados e reunidos no salão de bailes do casarão de seus pais, são pegos de surpresa com a notícia. As mulheres escondem o suspiro de surpresa com seus leques, enquanto os homens conversam entre si, acordando que, certamente, teriam menos competição pelo resto da festividade. 

♡ㆍA notícia, no entanto, chega para você como um soco no estômago. Não tão decepcionada pela ausência, mas pelo grande ato de babaquice real. O grande baile que seus pais haviam planejado foi minado pela notícia de última hora, que fez com que os presentes se sentissem desanimados. A atração principal havia cancelado, e o que seria da noite?

♡ㆍTalvez pela abrupta mudança de planos e a confusão generalizada causada por ela, onde todos os convidados pareciam meio perdidos – o que apenas mostrava a rigidez desses eventos, onde todo tipo de interação é previamente ensaiada –, você conseguiu escapar da multidão de vestidos e paletós que cobria o salão para a sala de música, cômodo vizinho.

♡ㆍDecerto, não esperava nada ao entrar na sala e encostar-se contra a porta, soltando uma respiração aliviada. Mas ouvir a melodia das teclas de marfim do piano te alcançou desprevenida. Alguém daquele salão teve a mesma ideia que você, e ainda não sabia se isso era bom ou ruim. Pelo menos, não tocava como um ogro. 

♡ㆍA sala era pouco iluminada, apenas com alguns candelabros acesos, mas que faziam pouco para clarear o espaço amplo. Era capaz de observar uma figura elegante sentada à frente de seu piano – todas as moças devem ter, pelo menos, algum tipo de talento, foi o que sua mãe disse ao te ensinar as escalas do instrumento, quando ainda tinha nove anos. O cavalheiro parecia ter cabelos castanhos, iluminados pelas velas amarelas em seu entorno. O nariz pontiagudo e a covinha em sua bochecha eram sombreados, mas os olhos estavam escondidos pelos cílios grossos. Até o momento em que levantou a cabeça para te encarar. Sem perceber, você acabou prendendo a respiração mais uma vez.

♡ㆍSentiu o coração dar um solavanco contra o peito. Pensou ser porque estava na companhia de um completo estranho, em uma sala, sozinhos. E então, adicionou isso ao fato de estar diante do completo estranho mais bonito que já viu em toda sua vida. Aí, o coração errou uma batida. 

♡ㆍ"É um bom piano, não?" é a pergunta que sai dos lábios do estranho, uma maneira de quebrar a atmosfera que pesava a sua volta. Os olhos dele pareciam esverdeados à distância. Talvez castanho, também? Impossível de dizer de onde estava parada. 

♡ㆍA pergunta ecoa em sua mente por alguns segundos. Ele também não fazia ideia de quem você era, se não, já estaria se levantando e pedindo desculpas por tocar em algo que te pertencia. Mas essa ideia não te incomodava tanto, pelo menos não quando o escutou dedilhar um trecho de uma de suas sonatas favoritas. O toque a fazia soar mais suave do que realmente era. 

♡ㆍ"Sim," concorda e, antes que pudesse perceber o que fazia, já dava passos na direção do seu instrumento. Ou melhor, para o estranho que o tocava.

♡ㆍ"A senhorita se interessa pelo piano? Toca?" a voz dele era suave, como se não quisesse atrapalhar o som que os próprios dedos produziam. As mãos se moviam com destreza sob as teclas, e a agilidade dos movimentos a encantavam. No entanto, os olhos do rapaz não saiam de seu rosto, que estava queimando embaixo de tão devota atenção. Você consegue apenas assentir, o que ele responde com um sorriso animado. E então, outra pergunta, "Me acompanha?"

♡ㆍEnquanto toca, chega um pouco para o lado, te dando espaço suficiente para sentar-se a frente da região grave. Retirando sua mão esquerda, o som fica incompleto até você, de fato, ajudá-lo a completar a melodia. Uma maneira um tanto inortodoxa de conhecer alguém, mas completamente divertida.

♡ㆍDurante alguns minutos, permanecem dividindo as teclas e misturando os sons. Quando a canção que ele iniciou termina, você traz uma nova para que ele te acompanhe. É um desafio acertar as composições com apenas algumas notas inacabadas, mas é um joguinho que deixa os dois entretidos por um bom tempo. E, depois de algumas vezes, percebe que têm um gosto extremamente parecido. Seguem sempre o caminho das melodias mais delicadas, um tanto etéreas. 

♡ㆍDão risada quando as canções intercaladas passam a ficar mais complexas, e suas bochechas queimam quando suas mãos se tocam ao alcançar a região central das teclas. Consegue sentir o calor da mão do rapaz na sua, mesmo que esteja coberta por sua luva. Em um momento, chegam até a quase entrelaçar os braços, trocando as escalas. Isso é o que mais rende risos, porque a posição apenas torna tudo mais difícil. Mesmo que em silêncio, parecem trocar ideias bem ali, nas teclas de seu sagrado piano.

♡ㆍFoi um daqueles momentos em que o coração guarda com carinho, mas que você entende ter que acabar. A última canção se encerra naturalmente ao compartilharem a nota final. Você levanta os olhos, animada, e percebe que, enquanto estava encarando as teclas de marfim, o olhar do rapaz já estava em seu rosto há tempos. Isso faz um calor subir de seu peito até as bochechas.

♡ㆍ"Preciso me retirar, milady," ele se desculpa, mesmo que não faça nenhum movimento para se levantar do banco que dividem. Com os olhos dele sob os seus, você pensa: azuis com castanho. Combinação estranha… e mais encantadora que já vi. No entanto, responde com um murmúrio positivo, algo entre 'tudo bem' e 'eu entendo'. 

♡ㆍE apenas após escutar sua aceitação, mesmo que nem um pouco animada, o rapaz se prepara para partir. As duas mãos abotoam seu paletó, e você observa uma pequena insígnia no anel que leva no dedo indicador. Cavalo rampante. 

♡ㆍAlgo em seu peito incomoda ao vê-lo andar pela sala, para longe de você. Sem conseguir se segurar por muito tempo, decide dar um fim ao mistério que os rondou durante o tempo que compartilharam. Depressa, se introduz, revelando que era a filha dos donos da propriedade em que estavam, a filha do Conde.

♡ㆍSeu coração reage com mais um solavanco mal-comportado ao vê-lo sorrir, esperto. "Oh, eu sei," ele responde, como se você não tivesse que se preocupar com isso. "E eu sou o Charles". Céus.

44 – O SURPREENDENTE DUQUE HAMILTON.

♡ㆍTodos da alta sociedade conheciam Duque Hamilton. Não apenas por sua elegância natural, que faz com que pareça Adônis reencarnado em qualquer roupa que vista, e nem só por sua riqueza e propriedades, mas, principalmente, por seu estilo de vida hedonista. 

♡ㆍDesde quando estreou na sociedade, no ano passado, percebeu que as aparições do duque eram raríssimas. Poucas foram as vezes que chegou a vê-lo nos salões de baile que frequentava, e menores ainda foram as oportunidades que teve para sequer interagir com ele – surpreendeu-se apenas por imaginar que ele sabia de sua existência. 

♡ㆍMas, quando conversavam, sempre mantendo a distância de desconhecidos, mas a educação daqueles que querem se conhecer, você imaginou que todas aquelas histórias mirabolantes sobre o duque e seus pernoites eram apenas rumores sórdidos. Certamente, seria impossível que um homem tão cortês causasse tanto estrago. Mal conseguia imaginá-lo em uma das festas ensandecidas que as más línguas descreviam.

♡ㆍNo entanto, sua opinião mudou radicalmente logo no final da temporada passada, durante uma belíssima ópera patrocinada pela Rainha. Ao se ausentar para ir ao banheiro, foi surpreendida pela visão do Duque Hamilton com uma das cantoras, que interpretava um dos papéis menores no espetáculo.

♡ㆍCom os olhos esbugalhados e o sentimento de desespero que crescia por flagrar um casal em um momento íntimo, acabou se escondendo atrás de uma das grandes pilastras. Uma decisão a qual se arrependeu amargamente.

♡ㆍAinda era capaz de escutar tudo, e sentia o nojo se espalhar por suas entranhas ao escutar o som molhado dos beijos que compartilhavam, bem no meio do hall do teatro. Com as portas principais fechadas, ninguém podia vê-los e estavam distantes o suficiente para que o som do espetáculo fosse abafado. 

♡ㆍAté que escutou a voz melódica do duque dizer uma sequência de palavras sedutoras, sem dúvidas as mais apetitosas que já ouviu um homem falar em sua vida. Caíram como explosivos em seus ouvidos inocentes, e despertaram muito mais do que sua curiosidade. Sentiu seu peito arfar, como se tudo o que Duque Hamilton estivesse falando fosse direcionado para você.

♡ㆍDeixou-se devanear por alguns segundos, se perdendo na própria imaginação ao escutar o barulho que o casal fazia, apenas alguns passos atrás da pilastra, até serem interrompidos. Sua acompanhante para a ópera, a sua dama de companhia, abriu as portas que separavam o hall da plateia e o barulho acabou por sobressaltar tanto você quanto o duque. 

♡ㆍ"Como a senhorita demorou!" ela anuncia ao te encontrar, escondida como um ratinho (e sentindo-se tão suja quanto) atrás da pilastra. Ao fundo, conseguia escutar o barulho apressado dos passos do casal, provavelmente procurando um local mais reservado para que pudessem continuar suas atividades. 

♡ㆍDesde esse dia, não duvidou dos rumores que passavam por seus ouvidos, e também não conseguiu mais parar de prestar atenção em tudo o que o duque fazia. Alguns argumentariam que estava apaixonada por ele, como todas as jovens mulheres da sociedade, mas você gostava de acreditar que seu interesse era um resultado puro de sua própria curiosidade. 

♡ㆍMas em momento nenhum ousou sonhar que seria, um dia, quem sabe, cortejada pelo belo duque. Essa era uma ilusão que não queria alimentar de forma alguma. Mesmo assim, você não conseguia parar de pensar nele.

♡ㆍE isso se seguiu até o início da nova temporada. No começo, foi difícil para de procurar pelo duque em todos os lugares que ia. Sentia-se frustrada por ele não estar presente para vê-la tão arrumada, tão linda. Decepcionava-se ao ter que gastar mais um belo vestido para conhecer outros pretendentes que não eram ele. E seguiu dessa forma pelos primeiros bailes, até, finalmente, conseguir direcionar sua atenção para outro homem.

♡ㆍLorde Burton era um visconde de posses pequenas, mas valiosas. Era simpático o suficiente para manter uma conversa interessante e tinha boa aparência. Te elogiava constantemente, ao ponto de se tornar um tanto inconveniente, e parecia gostar realmente de você. Um pouco demais. 

♡ㆍNo início, falhou em se atentar na emboscada que havia caído. Era uma boa combinação, o suficiente para que você não fosse considerada mais uma na fila das solteironas da sociedade, e também para te tirar daquele fascínio pelo duque, um homem que você sabia estar fora de cogitação. 

♡ㆍMas esqueceu de pensar que Lorde Burton, por mais benquisto que fosse, jamais manteve um cortejo por tempo o suficiente, apesar de seu histórico dizer que já havia tentado muitos. A essa ponto, deveria imaginar que o homem estava tão desesperado para se casar a ponto de se agarrar a você como sua última esperança. 

♡ㆍO que foi, outrora, ameno, agora estava se tornando uma amolação. Não conseguia escapar de seus braços durante os bailes e tinha que suportar suas intermináveis conversas sobre o seu casamento – que não havia sido acordado por sua parte. Lorde Burton era extremamente carente por sua atenção, e sua paciência era curta. 

♡ㆍEm um dos eventos realizados na casa de uma das amigas da Rainha, um baile luxuoso e muito bem frequentado, você se sentia sufocada ao lado de seu… galanteador. Mesmo após três taças de champanhe e o uso de seu leque, sentiu que não conseguiria passar mais um minuto sequer ao lado de Burton. 

♡ㆍFazendo charme, tocou o braço do homem para alertá-lo que não estava se sentindo nada bem, e que precisava se retirar do salão para recuperar-se por alguns instantes. Enquanto Lorde Burton ainda pensava em se oferecer para te acompanhar, você imediatamente o calou, alegando que passava por problemas femininos – a desculpa perfeita para manter qualquer homem afastado. 

♡ㆍAssim que recebeu um olhar de preocupação, mas compreensivo, do seu par, não esperou nem um segundo para sair do salão. Apenas não correu porque ainda precisava manter a pose debilitada. 

♡ㆍAproveitou os momentos que tinha antes de, inevitavelmente, Lorde Burton vir ao seu encontro, para passear pelos corredores próximos. Não fazia a menor ideia de por onde ir, já que a residência era imensa. Decidiu que seria melhor manter a exploração aos ambientes próximos à festa, assim, poderia caminhar de volta sem muito esforço.

♡ㆍEntrou em um extenso corredor, repleto de retratos e pinturas paisagísticas. Foi o que te distraiu o suficiente para que não visse que uma nova pessoa havia entrado no mesmo lugar que você, e estava tão aéreo quanto. Sem perceberem, acabam por se esbarrar bem no meio do corredor, enquanto hipnotizados por um dos quadros pendurados na parede.

♡ㆍ"Me desculpe," você nem havia encarado o rosto da pessoa a qual falava e já pedia desculpas. Quando seus olhos finalmente se encontraram, suas bochechas queimam ao completar, "Duque Hamilton". E oferece uma curta cortesia com a cabeça, a que ele retribui rapidamente.

"Senhorita," te dá um sorriso encantador, e você sente o coração disparar dentro de seu peito. Parecia até uma garotinha, admirada por tudo o que esse homem fazia. "Acredito que esteja tão perdida quanto eu". 

"Um pouco," admite, ainda um tanto desnorteada. Estão mais próximos do que deveriam, devido ao esbarrão. Sente a saia de seu vestido roçar contra os joelhos do duque. "Não quis me afastar muito do salão".

"Decisão sábia," oferece uma risada, então, em um tom confessional, diz, "Estava à procura do toalete, mas acabei aqui". 

♡ㆍÉ um momento simples, mas que te deslumbra. Enquanto ri, aproveita para apreciar a maneira com que os olhos do duque se fecham ao sorrir, e como ele parece tão à vontade criando uma conversa fiada – depois de tantos anos na sociedade, deve ser um mestre. 

♡ㆍNo entanto, antes que pudesse responder a sua revelação, vocês são pegos de surpresa com a chegada de um novo integrante à conversa: Lorde Burton. Como era de se esperar, após ter demorado tanto para retornar à festa, o seu pretendente havia iniciado a sua busca – mais cedo do que o imaginado, contudo. 

♡ㆍVocê deixa escapar um suspiro de consternação, alto o suficiente para que o duque te encare com um olhar confuso. Ele imediatamente nota como o seu corpo pareceu tensionar com a chegada do cavalheiro. E parece não gostar da maneira com que Lorde Burton o ignora, dirigindo-se diretamente a você, como quem procura tirar satisfação. 

♡ㆍ"Aí está você!" exclama, em um tom falsamente bem-humorado. Um sorriso contido, mas sabichão, aparece nos lábios do lorde, fazendo seu estômago revirar de irritação. Era melhor que tivesse se perdido naquele casarão. Então, com um olhar de soslaio para Duque Hamilton, completa: "Pensei que estivesse lidando com problemas femininos, mas vejo que já está bem melhor, não?"

♡ㆍEstava claro que falava aquilo em voz alta para te constranger na frente do duque, uma maneira de te dar o troco por fazê-lo esperar, sozinho, no salão. Você se retrai e olha para baixo, evitando contato visual com ambos.

"Já es-," antes que pudesse completar a sua frase, complacente, é interrompida pela voz do duque. Ele ajeita a própria postura, e parece crescer diante de seus olhos. Os olhos castanhos se estreitam enquanto encaram Lorde Burton, intensos. 

"A senhorita sente-se muito bem, meu lorde. Apenas precisava de um momento longe do tumulto," é como se roubasse todas as desculpas da sua mente. "E não é necessário se preocupar, todos os problemas femininos já foram resolvidos". Ou talvez não todas. 

♡ㆍSeus olhos se alargam ao escutar a réplica do duque, e é preciso morder o próprio lábio para não deixar que uma risada incrédula te escape. Curiosa, sua atenção cai imediatamente sob Lorde Burton, que parece mais atribulado que o normal, chocado tal insolência. Ao voltar seu olhar para Hamilton, percebe que ele encara o lorde como se perguntasse, silencioso, 'o que vai fazer?'.

♡ㆍFoi respondido em apenas um segundo. Lorde Burton olha para os dois, e ainda nervoso, bate o pé em retirada do corredor. Seu rosto parecia vermelho como um tomate, e bufava.

♡ㆍAssim que o homem se distancia o suficiente, você e o duque se encaram e, sem se comunicar, desatam de rir ali mesmo. Sente a sua barriga doer e lágrimas escorrerem por seus olhos, que seca com os dedos assim que se acalma.

♡ㆍ"Obrigada," agradece ao duque, mesmo que, no fundo, soubesse que havia arranjado um grande problema para resolver. Em troca, ele faz uma pequena cortesia com a cabeça, ainda rindo. Passam alguns segundos em quietos, o silêncio sendo interrompido apenas pelas respirações pesadas após a crise de risos. 

"Não é preciso me agradecer," responde, mas logo se contradiz, ao sugerir, "Ou talvez… a senhorita queira me agradecer me concedendo uma dança?"

55 – O ENCANTADOR MARQUÊS SAINZ.

♡ㆍSer de uma família do campo, de renda modesta, nunca pareceu um impedimento para qualquer coisa em sua vida. Você foi criada e educada sem a ajuda de criados, fazendo as tarefas para ajudar seus pais, e em conjunto com seus irmãos. Aprendeu a ler e foi bem-educada na arte da conversação com a ajuda de sua mãe, mas também aprendeu a lidar com os animais da fazenda com seu pai. 

♡ㆍNunca aspirou casar-se com ninguém fora de seu círculo, e já sabia que teria que se contentar com algum rapaz de boa aparência, tolerável e com escassas terras em seu nome. Uma garota do campo como você raramente teria grandes chances em subir socialmente.

♡ㆍNo entanto, sua madrinha, que morava na cidade e pareceu nunca ligar muito para sua existência, tinha outros planos. Lady Federline havia acabado de perder o marido e também perdia as esperanças de conseguir um casamento próspero para as duas filhas solteironas, que embarcavam em sua quarta temporada na sociedade. Pediu para que seus pais concedessem a sua guarda para que, finalmente, obtivesse sucesso no mercado casamenteiro. 

♡ㆍ"É meu dever como madrinha," foi o que a mulher disse, mesmo que tivesse muitas outras obrigações que jamais cumpriu. Mal se lembra da última vez em que a viu, mas decidiu aceitar o ato de boa vontade – não que tivesse muita escolha, já que seus pais ficaram deslumbrados pela oportunidade de sua filha se casar com um homem de boa fortuna, que pudesse melhorar o estilo de vida da família. No fundo, você sabia que era apenas mais uma tentativa da mulher não se afundar ainda mais perante àquela sociedade tão crítica. Com dois fracassos em uma mão, talvez um casamento bem-sucedido pudesse salvar um pouco de sua reputação. 

♡ㆍEm sua chegada na cidade, rapidamente fora escoltada para a modista, que se tornou um de seus lugares favoritos. Não pelas roupas, que apesar de lindas e glamourosas, não enchiam seus olhos. Foi ali, enquanto tirava suas medidas e ajustava alguns vestidos disponíveis, em que pôde saber mais das histórias da alta sociedade. Fofocar era um hábito que não morreria tão cedo em você.

♡ㆍDescobriu que sua teoria estava mais certa do que gostaria. Uma das filhas de sua madrinha havia se envolvido com um rico político, já casado, e trouxe escândalo para o nome da família. Enquanto a outra era tão antipática que poucos conseguiam manter uma conversa por mais que alguns minutos. Você já era considerada um achado diante de seus pares. 

♡ㆍE como era de se esperar, a sua popularidade também trouxe a inveja das filhas de sua madrinha, já cientes dos destinos muito diferentes que teriam. Mesmo com a preferência óbvia de Lady Federline, isso não as impedia de te tratar como nada mais do que uma intrusa dentro da residência da família. Não chegavam nem a vê-la como uma igual, e constantemente te rebaixavam a uma posição inferior. 

♡ㆍPor mais que fosse fácil de sempre vencer uma discussão, visto se importavam com pouco além da própria mesquinhez e com a fortuna herdada de seu pai, você não poderia se indispor completamente com as duas. E por saber disso, iniciaram uma campanha de pequenas sabotagens para te prejudicar. 

♡ㆍTinha imaginado que as irmãs do mal tentariam te envergonhar logo na cerimônia de apresentação à rainha, mas o que te aguardava era definitivamente muito pior. A rivalidade, unilateral, chegou em seu ápice pouco tempo depois, no primeiro grande baile da temporada. 

♡ㆍSua diversão, alimentada pelas consecutivas danças e conversas que tinha com os lordes e grupos de moças que pareciam interessados o suficiente em conhecer a garota do campo, teve um fim sórdido no meio do salão. E, para piorar, foi no momento mais feliz de sua noite.

♡ㆍDisputada por boa parte dos solteiros naquela noite, você foi surpreendida quando, enquanto tentava se livrar de um rapaz um tanto inoportuno, sua conversa foi interrompida pelo ilustre Marquês Sainz. Um tipo que você jamais imaginou sequer te notar, devido ao grande prestígio e popularidade que havia acumulado na alta sociedade. O conhecia apenas por nome e reputação, já que sua madrinha e as más-línguas na modista haviam sussurrado sobre o espanhol. Ele havia viajado para a cidade para resolver os negócios do pai, e acabou por se mudar para uma residência não muito distante do centro, e tornou-se um dos solteiros mais cobiçados pelas moças.

♡ㆍAo saber de sua existência, pensava que o marquês havia conquistado tal fama por sua fortuna, mas, estando cara a cara com o homem, entendeu que era muito mais que isso. Era tão bonito que te fazia sentir o peito queimar. E aquele sotaque! Fazia a sua interrupção ainda mais bem-vinda.

♡ㆍ"A senhorita já tem um par para a próxima dança," ele anuncia para o cavalheiro que lhe importunava. Não foi uma mentira bem contada, porque Sainz imediatamente te encarou como se pedisse a sua permissão para tal, mas fez com que o rapaz que tentava chamar sua atenção se afastasse. Você apenas assentiu, com um sorriso grato nos lábios. 

♡ㆍAo iniciarem a dança, com sua mão enluvada sobre a dele, você sente que não conseguiria manter-se séria embaixo do peso dos olhos do marquês. Pareceu não notar seu óbvio encantamento – talvez já estivesse muito acostumado com as pessoas se derretendo sob seu olhar –, e apenas disse, "Peço desculpas pela interrupção, senhorita. Mas não acho que uma mulher bonita como você deveria suportar as chatices do Lorde Calder". É o suficiente para render uma risada, e a partir daí, a conversa se desenrola durante o resto da música. 

♡ㆍDistraída demais conversando com o marquês – que logo mostra que, por baixo de toda a pompa, é extremamente gentil e um tanto adorável –, mal percebe que uma das irmãs aproveitou a oportunidade de te ter vulnerável na pista de dança para pisar na barra de seu vestido com o salto. E, envolvida em sua dança, você se move para frente e o tecido, frágil, fica para trás. O barulho de sua saia rasgando parece ecoar três vezes mais, interrompendo sua conversa e trazendo a atenção de todos do salão para você. O ofego surpreso das pessoas ainda ressoa na sua mente. 

♡ㆍDe imediato, seus olhos se enchem de lágrimas. Não por sentir-se triste, mas humilhada. Estava com metade das pernas expostas para a nata da sociedade e envergonhando-se na frente do marquês, até então a pessoa que mais gostou de conhecer durante sua estadia na cidade. Mal conseguiu encará-lo, mantendo a cabeça baixa e tirando suas mãos das dele, agarrando a barra do vestido antes de correr para fora do salão. 

♡ㆍSentiu-se cega e surda por alguns segundos, com a cabeça girando e as lágrimas pesando. O mundo parecia ruir à sua volta e seus pulmões doíam de tanto segurar o choro. Permaneceu de cabeça baixa até se distanciar o suficiente da festa, terminando sua corrida da vergonha na entrada do jardim. Apenas ali, se deixou chorar.

♡ㆍEra terrível sentir-se tão imponente e a mercê. Estava distante de tudo o que conhecia, por uma decisão de terceiros e ainda havia sido humilhada na frente dos maiores predadores da cadeia alimentar. Um pesadelo total.

♡ㆍEnquanto sentia o lábio inferior tremer, não querendo deixar os soluços rasgarem sua garganta, foi surpreendida por aquele mesmo sotaque que te fez rir há alguns minutos, "Ei," o tom é suave, quase como se quisesse te confortar. No entanto, o marquês mantém a distância, mesmo que seus olhos castanhos mostrem límpida preocupação. Suas mãos estão estendidas, como se quisessem te tocar. Pareceu não saber o que falar agora que tinha a sua atenção, vendo o seu rostinho tão infeliz. "Quer… Precisa que eu chame a sua carruagem, senhorita?"

♡ㆍA expressão que tinha em seu rosto era fascinante. Ao mesmo tempo que parecia amargo por te ver daquela maneira, também procurava te encorajar a aceitar sua sugestão. O marquês Sainz não parecia ter muita experiência em lidar com mulheres com vestidos rasgados, mas certamente fazia um esforço para tentar te consolar naquele momento. Não suportava vê-la assim. 

♡ㆍTe ofereceu um sorriso caloroso ao te ver acenar com a cabeça, aceitando o alento. Então, estendeu a sua mão para que segurar a barra do vestido para você e, em seguida, o braço para que segurasse para acompanhá-lo até a entrada da residência.

♡ㆍ"Uma pena o vestido ter sido arruinado dessa forma," ele comenta enquanto caminham. Você não podia evitar, em meio de suas fungadas, de exprimir um murmúrio positivo, concordando. Sainz te encarou de rabo de olho, percebendo que continuava tão abalada quanto antes. "Você não deveria se preocupar. Minhas irmãs viram o que a senhorita Federline fez. Ela será sortuda se conseguir sair do salão com o vestido intacto até o final da noite", e suas palavras foram seguidas de uma piscadela. Isso a fez rir, e ele sorriu, satisfeito com a realização. 

♡ㆍConversaram sobre algumas peculiaridades da festa até chegarem em seu destino, e ele pareceu querer te distrair mais do que tudo. Procurava dizer alguns gracejos para te manter sorrindo, ou te incitando a dizer coisas piores. Ao chegarem ao local em que os cocheiros estavam reunidos, a mão do homem pareceu segurar a barra de seu vestido com ainda mais força, e se manteve um pouco à sua frente, te escondendo dos olhares curiosos e furtivos daqueles homens.

♡ㆍTe surpreendeu ao chamar a carruagem de sua família ao invés da Federline. Uma ação um tanto chocante, se não imprópria, mas, parada ali com seu vestido rasgado, não se importava com polidez – de qualquer forma, tudo no marquês te dizia que ainda se veriam muitas vezes… ou você queria acreditar que sim. 

♡ㆍTão tarde da noite, a chegada à residência Federline foi mais rápida do que ambos esperavam, e tiveram que interromper mais uma conversa. Não era possível expressar em palavras o quão grata se sentia pelo ato de gentileza de Sainz, e a tristeza de ter que deixá-lo seguir sua viagem sem você. 

♡ㆍDe qualquer forma, ficou com a lembrança do sorriso e do som da risada do marquês, que repetia a cada momento como uma forma de suportar os dias seguintes, sem nenhum evento em que pudesse revê-lo. No antro de seu ser, já estava convencida de que o homem havia se arrependido, e nem mesmo falaria com você caso se esbarrassem nas ruas da cidade, ou mesmo em outro baile, na frente de todos. 

♡ㆍTalvez por estar tão cega por seu pessimismo que se surpreendeu ao receber uma encomenda endereçada a você. Ao abrir, se deparou com um vestido da mesma cor daquele que usou no baile, no entanto, mais leve e ainda mais bonito e rico. Preso à caixa, um bilhete que dizia: "Espero que chegue aos pés do arruinado. Por que não usá-lo em um passeio no parque? Talvez na próxima quarta-feira, digamos que às três. Cordialmente, Mr. Sainz". 

63 – O MESQUINHO CONDE RUSSELL.

♡ㆍVocê nunca imaginou que a vida de casada seria tão detestável. Tinha o exemplo de seus pais que, mesmo tendo se casado por uma estratégia de negócios, haviam achado o amor em sua união e permanecido juntos e felizes durante todos esses anos.

♡ㆍEssas são palavras que você jamais se atreveria a dizer sobre a sua própria união com o jovem Conde George Russell. Nutriam um desprezo tão grande um pelo outro que, por vezes, imaginava que a palavra ódio seria incapaz de descrever sua relação. 

♡ㆍDesde que suas famílias acertaram sua união – por sua parte, para benefício financeiro para os negócios de seu pai, e para a parte de George, para assegurar sua herança –, vocês dois haviam se jurado de morte, recusando até mesmo a passarem tempo junto durante o noivado. Seria torturada diariamente, então por que se submeter a tal flagelo antes de ser estritamente necessário? 

♡ㆍA aversão do rapaz não te afeta mais, porque não é como se seu marido alimentasse afetos por toda a sociedade. Muito pelo contrário, o seu jeito um tanto mesquinho o faz criar apatias latentes, quase sempre unilaterais. Diz não gostar de Lorde Brooke porque vive a se gabar por seus resultados no críquete, mas mal sabe segurar o taco corretamente. Evita engajar em conversas com Lady Evans porque não sabe pronunciar seus 'r' e, quando eram solteiros, parecia se jogar nos braços de George em qualquer oportunidade.

♡ㆍNão que duvidasse da popularidade de seu marido, pois a testemunhou de perto. Todas as mulheres solteiras da região sonhavam em conquistar o rapaz por rumores de sua recheada herança, então, a família Russell esteve alerta para evitar possíveis oportunistas. 

♡ㆍComo seus pais, Lady e Lorde Russell puseram o coração à frente da razão, dando a oportunidade que o filho escolhesse uma mulher a qual pudesse se apaixonar e viver uma vida feliz. E George pareceu levar tal preocupação a sério até demais; passadas três temporadas, o rapaz ainda não havia escolhido uma esposa e parecia colocar defeitos até na mais perfeita e doce das debutantes.

♡ㆍA demora trouxe uma nova consternação à tona: o herdeiro Russell assumiria seu título sem uma esposa? Tal possibilidade não agradava o lorde nem um pouco, que logo estabeleceu que o filho apenas teria acesso a sua herança e a sua posição caso se casasse… e com a lady que eles escolhessem.

♡ㆍSe a união foi um castigo para George, você não faz ideia. Mas sabe que certamente pode ser considerado um para você. Afinal, como ser feliz em uma residência em que mal encontra outras pessoas? E que sempre quando esbarra em seu marido, ele faz de tudo para te evitar? De todos os empregados, apenas as suas damas de companhia tinham coragem de conversar com você, e rapidamente tornaram-se suas únicas confidentes. 

♡ㆍQuando estava perto de George, mal conseguia passar cinco minutos sem discutir sobre alguma coisa completamente irrelevante. Mas já era um avanço, porque nos primeiros meses do casamento, não eram capazes nem de dividir a mesma mesa no café da manhã – o que terminou em uma acalorada troca de comida… que acabaram esfregando um na cara do outro. 

♡ㆍEnvergonhada, pediu desculpas apenas aos empregados que acabaram limpando a bagunça que deixaram na mesa da sala de jantar, enquanto ainda estava coberta de suco de laranja. Pelo menos, saiu tranquila por saber que tinha deixado seu marido muito pior após esfregar uma bandeja de ovos poche em seu precioso cabelo. 

♡ㆍAgora, pelo menos, conseguiam brigar com menos impulsividade – também ajudava que, durante as refeições, permaneciam quietos. Terminavam as discussões com um "humpf" ou deixando o outro falando sozinho, saindo batendo o pé por não suportar dividir o mesmo ambiente. 

♡ㆍRaramente tinham momentos em que se sentiam em paz com a presença do outro, mas estes geralmente aconteciam quando faziam visitações em conjunto às casas do condado. No início, sabiam que era necessário manter as aparências e fingir que estava tudo sempre florido no relacionamento de vocês. Por isso, mantinham sorrisos e disfarçavam a vontade de se esganar. Pensavam no bem-estar e na segurança da administração.

♡ㆍMas era difícil não deixar se encantar pelo charme natural que George emanava sempre que conversava com algum dos habitantes. Por mais irritante e mesquinho que fosse a portas fechadas, ele sabia exatamente o que fazer para conquistar as pessoas ao seu redor. Doía admitir, mas sempre o achava mais atraente quando se fazia de bom moço, tão educado e simpático com todos que o buscavam.

♡ㆍTornava-se ainda mais complicado quando o via interagir com alguma criança do vilarejo. Elas sempre eram privilegiadas por George, e pareciam nutrir uma admiração pelo conde que você jamais pensou existir. 

♡ㆍConforme o tempo passou e as visitas se tornaram mais frequentes, você passou a perceber que tudo aquilo não era apenas charme, ou uma máscara que seu marido colocava para encantar os súditos. Era ele. Apenas ele. E a verdadeira fachada era aquela que ele apresentava para a sociedade. Uma reviravolta surpreendente… mas extremamente agradável. 

♡ㆍ"Eles parecem gostar de você," George te disse, um dia. Era a primeira vez em que falava diretamente com você há dias, depois de mais uma briga. O peso de seus olhos azuis pesava contra sua face enquanto ele parecia te analisar, tentar discernir se você era boa o suficiente para receber aquela atenção. Um acesso de ciúmes, foi o que você pensou. "Isso é bom". 

♡ㆍFoi a primeira vez em que mostrou algum tipo de reação positiva a algo que você fazia. Seu peito se encheu de um novo senso de vaidade, sentiu-se feliz por receber um elogio do rapaz, geralmente tão crítico. Mas, tão rápido quanto se instalou, também foi embora. Você não precisava da aprovação de George para nada, tentou se convencer. Mas era tão bom…

"Eles gostam de você, também," observa, porque não sabia o que responder. 

"Eu tento," responde, e por mais que suas palavras tenham soado um tanto ríspidas, você se surpreende ao notar um certo tom de humildade nelas, algo parecido com uma vulnerabilidade que era nova entre vocês. 

♡ㆍSe encararam, um tanto desconfiados. Essa situação era nova e vocês não tinham ideia de como navegar por ela. Deveriam continuar conversando? Fingir que isso não havia acontecido e levantar um motivo para uma nova intriga? As perguntas rondaram sua mente até o momento em que George assente levemente para você, mas os orbes azuis brilhavam com reconhecimento. Você não pode evitar e retribui o gesto.

♡ㆍ"Deveríamos jantar juntos," ele diz, de repente. "Uma das senhoras foi gentil o suficiente em fazer um guisado. Acredito que não o comeria inteiro". E com isso, te fez uma curta cortesia com a cabeça e voltou a andar pelo vilarejo, te deixando para trás, atônita.

[haileybeehappy]

Making Music

Word count : 3k

Warnings : Oral sex (fem receiving) Calling Harry sir, dom harry, I don't know much about music production tbh, p in v sex, spanking, unprotected sex, wrap your willy silly!

Summary: Harry recording back tracks and extra vocals and he pulls you in with him and fucks you in the recording booth. Using your moans in the songs

Harry said he had a quick session today and he wanted you to join. Just finishing up some back tracks on his next album and paperwork stuff. It wasn’t uncommon that you came to the studio with him, you would work on your writing as he worked on his music. Your fingers gliding back and forth on your keyboard as he is in the booth, his voice soothing you down to your bones.

It’s just you and him in the small office like room, your feet swung up onto the edge of the sound board and he is in the booth. Headphones perched on his head one ear exposed so he can hear himself and you. “Okay love just click the button on the computer,” you push your body back and press the button that commences the recording. The track plays through his ears as you watch him through the plexiglass window. Grasping at the extra headphones plugged into the end of the soundboard and slide them over your head. Securing them onto your ears. His voice riding and falling to match the chords and lyrics. Adding depth and layers to the beautiful song. You glance back up at him and his eyes are on you already. You smile at him and he smiles back. His dimples poking out, a light blush filling his cheeks. As he finishes out the song, holding your eyes in his gaze the whole time he nods to signal to push the button again.

“Again?” You ask through the intercom. He nods in confirmation as you quickly reset the recording as he has showed you many times before and press the button to start again. His eyes close as he hits notes that are at the peak of his vocal range. The veins and tendons in his neck bulging slightly. You look at him with a smile on your face. His curls moving and shifting as he shakes his head. As the song came to a crescendo you could basically see his veins vibrating at his pulse point. The sight causing a heat to ignite between your legs. You’ve always loved his neck. His shoulders. His collar bones. His arms. Everything about him really. But you that soft spot in his neck really gets you going in a different way.

Maybe it’s because the whimpers and groans that escape his neck as you kiss at the small birthmarks. Or that when he’s sheathed inside of you, your mouth bites and sucks at the skin till it’s red and bruised. Maybe it’s because you find your hands settling there often when his mouth is on yours, rubbing at his soft skin and scraping through his scruff.

The song falls to an end and your eyes are still intently trained on him. The slick between your thigh pooling. Getting yourself riled up at just the thought of him was not a new experience. You’re not very good at hiding the symptoms either. Your legs are crossed tightly, blush spread across your cheeks and eyes blown with lust. Harry steps out of the booth, leaving the headphones hung around his neck as he quickly finds the seat next to you. Pulling up to the computer, only glancing in your direction before flipping the headphones back atop his head and listing back to the track. His head bobbing to the tempo, bought lip pulled between his teeth. You roll your chair close to his and rest your head on his shoulder. The music pumping through your own headphones as you close your eyes and listen to his voice. Feeling his body against yours, you grasp your arms around his waist and breathe in his scent. His hands wrap into yours and his thumb rubs back and forth against your skin. Causing goosebumps to travel up your arms. The contact against him making the pulse between your legs uncomfortable. You start to wiggle in your chair. Adjusting your position. Shuffling your legs back and forth before Harry looks back at you.

“You okay lovey?” He asks. His voice distant because of the headphones. You stop yours off your head and drop them to the sound board. He pops his ear out.

“Yeah just uncomfortable I guess,” you shrug. Pulling your legs up onto the chair and wiggling some more.

“Can I fix it?” A laugh echos through your head.

‘You’re the one one who can fix it,’ you think to yourself but just shrug in response.

“I don’t think so, just been sitting to long I guess,”

“You guess?” A small smile on his lips. “Tell me what’s going on,” he reaches out to you and pulls you chair to him. Slotting you and the chair between his thighs. You roll your eyes and drop your head back.

“It’s stupid,” you whisper

“It’s not stupid if it makes you uncomfortable love,” his fingers rubbing at the exposed skin of your ankle. The smirk on his lips replaced with concern. “Just tell me please,” you sigh.

“Harry really, you’re just gonna laugh,” he shakes his head at the accusation.

“I promise,”

“I’m horny,” you whine as you tuck your face into your knees. Your voice muffled by the fabric of your leggings and your body.

“What lovey?” He asks again. His voice dropping to meet yours.

“IM HORNY!” You all but yell. Lifting your head so he can look you in the eyes. His eyes widen and his mouth opens in surprise and then slowly a smile makes its way to his lips and his eyes crinkle. You narrow your eyes at him and pull your lips into a snarl. “You promised,” you whine as a small chuckle leaves his mouth.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I really am,” his hands grab your legs and pull them onto his lap. Running his fingers up to your thighs. Grasping your legs hard. Fingers massaging into your thighs. “You’re so cute baby,” you hide your face behind your hands.

“Leave me alone,” you groan. He runs his hands to your hips.

“I can’t leave you alone baby, gotta fix your problem huh?” You shake your head.

“Just go back to work,”

“Can’t go back to work knowing my girl needs me,” he pulls your hands from your face. Grasping your chin in his fingers. “Can I help you please?” You just answer him with a nod. “Words love,” he demands. His lips a breath from yours.

“Please Harry,” before you can finish saying his name his lips are on yours. Swallowing your breath with his. Your hands grasping at the sides of his head. Your thumb rolling over his pulse point. You pull back and move to place kisses on his neck. As you get to your coveted spot he pulls you onto his lap. A yelp leaves your mouth, his hands find your ass and starts kneeding it as you place kissed across his throat. Placing kisses on every inch of exposed skin. The groan he releases as you begin to move your hips over his causes your eyes to roll back behind your closed lids.

“Hold onto me love,” you wrap your hands around his neck and he stands. Your legs cling to his waist. “Good girl,” he whispers in your ears. Causing pins and needles to shoot down your spine. Before you could ask what he’s doing his lips find yours and he pushes the both of you into the booth. Your back hits the wall and he pulls you down so his bulge rubs against your center. Slowly moving your hips against his, pushing and pulling you against the wall. Moans squeak their way past your lips and he continues to devour you. He slowly lowers your feet to the ground. Placing one last hard kiss on your lips. “Hold on a minute baby,” he turns and leaves the booth. Clicking a few things on the computer and making his way back to you.

“What did you just do Harry?” You ask accusingly.

“You know what I just did,” he smirks. He then drops to his knees in front of you. Pushes your body back so your back meets the foam carpeted wall of the sound booth and then hooks his hands into the waistband of your leggings and slowly pulls them down to your ankles. You look down at him as he pulls the fabric completely off your legs. Your shoes already discarded under your chair by the soundboard. “Gonna make you feel so good baby,” he begins kissing at the inside of your knee. Slowly making his way to the soft spot of your inner thigh. Pausing to suck at the sensitive skin. Causing dark red welts to trail behind. You’re doing everything you can to not close his head between your thighs. The tickling sensation soon replaced by pleasure as your knee finds residency on his shoulder and he placed a light kiss on your clit before licking a long stripe through your folds. Causing your head to drop back into the wall and you raise yourself onto your tiptoes to get closer to him. Moans are wracking through your body as he continues to lick through your folds. His nose occasionally bumping your clit, your hips twitching at the teasing sensation.

“Harry please,” you sigh out. His mouth leaves your core and he looks up to you.

“Tell me what you need baby,” you let out a groan. He loves hearing the foul words leave your mouth. He always makes you beg. Tell him exactly what you need even if it makes you blush like no other.

“Your mouth,” you moan out as he begins to leave a hickey on the most sensitive soft part of you thigh.

“I’ve been using my mouth honey,” he smirks against your skin.

“You didn’t let me finish,” you laugh out. “Your mouth, on my clit Harry please,” the words rush out of your mouth. He dives down and lays his tongue flat against your folds and slowly trails up to your clit. Very very slowly wrapping his lips against it and sucking lightly. Your hips jerk to his face and you all but scream his name. “Oh fuck Harry please,” you whine finally reaching down to pull at his hair. “Harder please Harry,” he moans at the stinging sensation. The vibrations against your clit almost sending you over. He quickly pulls back.

“What else love,” he breathes heavily.

“Your fingers please Harry,” he adjusts himself slight so he can guide his hand between your legs without letting your leg fall of his shoulders. His fingers dive into your hot center and he reattaches himself to your clit. “Fuck yes right there,” you whine as he instantly finds the spongy spot inside you. And his fingers move over the spot gently while he continues to suck at your clit. As you find yourself reaching your peak your hips jerk against your face. “Yes Harry right there oh my god Harry yes please,” you moan out as you teeter on the edge. His other hand gives you two pats on your ass. Signaling you to come. You let the orgasm wash over you, your body goes limp and he holds you up with one hand on your waist and raising his elbow. He continues to suck on your clit, slowly releasing the pressure as you come down from your high. His fingers slipping out out you and going to wrap around the other side of your waist and lowering you to the ground.

“Oh fuck such a good girl baby, came so hard for me,” he groans as you settle yourself onto his kneeled legs. His fingers coming to your mouth. You pull his slick soaked fingers into your mouth through ragged breaths and clean yourself off of him. Swirling your tongue around the two digits in your mouth. “Good girl,” he whispers as you close your eyes. You sit there and breath each others breaths. Till your heart rate comes down and your head stops spinning.

“Gonna fuck me now?” You ask as you bring your eyes to meet him. A mischievous look in his eye as the words leave your mouth.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he joke. The two of you untangle your limbs and stand up. He moves to pull up your shirt, pulling it off your frame. Your hands go to unclasp your bra but his hands come over yours and quickly flick off the bra with one hand. A move he took months to master. Laying in bed clasping and unclasping your bra while he held you.

“Your turn,” you say as your hands go to undo his belt. He makes quick work of stripping off his top and then quickly pushing the pants down once your fingers are don’t figuring with his button. Before you can get a good look at him he spins you around and pushes your front against the small podium/music stand. Your breast squished against the cold wood, his hands slowly drifting from your shoulders to your hips. He kneads your ass with one hand while he uses the other to line himself with your entrance. As his tip begins to rub against your folds it occasionally bumps against your clit. You push yourself back into him hoping to sheath him inside you. He replies with a sharp slap on your round bottom.

“So needy,” he growls as he completely bottoms out in one move. Leaving himself pushed against your cervix as you adjust to his size. It’s like he was made for you. Filling you just enough to make you sore the next day but not painful. The moan you let out as his finger snakes around and begins to play with your clit is almost pornographic. He slowly begins to move as the sounds you release become louder. “Fuck you always take my dick so good love,” his voice releases into your ear.

“I’was made for me,” you say. His frame raising off your back and hand slipping from your clit. You whine at the loss but it quickly turns to a moan as he begins pumping into you with malice. His hands grabbing and pulling at your ass cheeks. The tip of his cock pushing against your cervix over and over. Your hands grasp the edge of the podium till your knuckles turn white. “Fuck Harry yes,” you repeat his name over and over as if you’re chanting a song. The small grunts and whimpers he’s making drowned out by the sound of his skin hitting yours. His hand leaves your ass and he buries his fingers in your hair. He entwines your hair between his ring clad fingers and pulls ever so slightly. You whimper out, “Harder.”

“My baby likes it rough huh?” You nod your head pulling your own hair. A moan following. “Likes to be fucked dumb huh?” He hasn’t slowed. His thrusts becoming sturdier. You can only moan in response. He then slowly comes to a stop. Leaning down so his tattooed chest is pressed against your hot back. “Fuck your self on my cock baby,”

“Yes sir,” you submit as you begin to slowly push yourself and pull yourself off his cock. Once you catch a rhythm you speed up your pace. His heavy breaths turn into small moans not leaving his throat to little gasps leaving his lips. Until he’s fully moaning out. You let go of the podium with one hand and slip your fingers over your clit.

“Oh fuck baby,” Harry whimpers. “Such a good girl, playing with your clit while you fuck yourself on me. So good for me,” his words pulling the orgasm from deep inside you. “So good at fucking yourself on my cock baby,” his hands finding themselves back on your hips and starts to pull you back on his dick even harder. Your orgasm breaching as you flutter around him. “Come for me baby, come all over my cock,” he demands as he begins pounding back into you. His name falls from your lips in broken syllables as your body wracks in pleasure. Your walls tighten around him in spasms. The pressure on his dick bringing him over the edge and his thrusts slow and become uneven and sloppy. He comes inside you, watching the white liquid push out of you as he continues to fuck you through your orgasms. He doesn’t stop until it physically hurts him to keep going. He pulls you up slowly and slips out of you. You turn to look at him and he places a hard kiss you your lips. You spin your body around and grab at his face.

“Thank you Harry,” your voice hoarse with sex.

“Of course love,” his hands lay to rest on your hips. Squeezing at you as he calls you love.

“Can we go home now?” You smile. He returns the gesture and nods.

“Yea let’s clean up and I’ll close out,” leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But I wanna listen to that before we leave,” you points to the mic. You laugh and slap him in the chest.

“That can wait till we get home. We both know if you listen to that we’ll be here all night,” he shrugs knowingly.

“Fine I guess,”

- - -

A few months later his new album comes out. As you sit in his lap head resting on his chest as the music pumps through the large sound system in your shared living room. The second song of the album starts.

“Can we go home now?” Your voice vibrates through the speakers. Your head shoots up to look at him in the eyes. A familiar track begins to play. One you were there while he recorded.

“Harry!” You laugh

“Just wait there’s more,” he smiles. Raising his brows.

“Harry no!”

“You said I could!” He defends himself.

“I didn’t think you would,” you laugh even harder. Because of course he would. Why wouldn’t you think he would?!

“That’s on you,” he pulls you to him by the fabric of your shirt (his shirt if we’re being honest) as he places a kiss on your lips.

“I guess,” you sigh as you seperate. Then your own moans are back tracked on the song. Not quite loud enough and to really be heard. And the pitch is changed but you definitely recognize it. Your eyebrow raise and a wide smile stretches across his face.

“Harry!" is all you can say which grants a large belly laugh from him.

[valscodblog]

"𝕷𝖊𝖙 𝖒𝖊 𝖇𝖊 𝖇𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖉 𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊"

Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader/ Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish

(im so sorry but this is angst-and nothing but heart breaking contents.)

WARNINGS: I rewrote some of the dialogue to fit Ghost trying to flirt with Johnny okay? death, mentions of blood, mentions of drinking,

this fic is for the one and the only: @katsudoodles 

"Simon-what if we switched dog tags? Just for like-a day or something?" you had randomly popped the question. Not knowing what that day would bring-or how horrible it would be.

Simon, who loved you with all his heart and then some, of course said yes to you. So you made the switch and would do horrible impressions of your husband. Made the guys laugh. Made Him laugh.

But it didn't last long. A last minuet call in was ordered by Shepard and so Price sent you, Ghost, and Roach.

"Why the hell did they havta send You? ...We had three damn days. Three!" Simon ranted as he loaded his rifle. You just sighed and loaded your pistol. "I don't know, Si. But it'll be alright-like always." But there seemed to be something Simon knew that you didn't. "Right?" you said, punching his shoulder softly and playfully. He just grunted.

"Simon, you were just perfectly fine! What the hell?" "I don't wantcha goin'! I need ya t'stay safe! And this isn't stayin' safe, now is it, Lovie?" You blinked and pulled his balaclava up, just enough for his lips to show. You held the thin fabric as you pressed a small kiss to his mouth and then you pulled it back down, whispering a soft promise of staying by his side.

Simon believed it.

And did you.

But the events of that day said otherwise.

"Simon! Look o-" you got cut off by getting shot in the head. And Simon saw red. In more ways than one. He saw your blood and the enemy's. He shot at the enemy. Ten times more he should've.

"Overkill," Roach choked out in pure fear of his closet friend. Ghost didn't hear, he didn't hear anything but your breaths getting quieter and coming in a shorter tempo. "Y/n-Lovie, open your eyes-Please."

Simon Riley wasn't one to beg for anything-but for his wife's life? He's killed, he's committed many crimes-unknown to everyone but him. Roach put a hand on his shoulder. Ghost watched as you opened your eyes and said, "I'm sorry-I fucked up. I promised-" "I don't care what you said-what matters is that you stay the fuck awake until Shepard gets here." You smiled before saying, "Yes sir, Lt."

And Simon nearly laughed. "You tryna be funny, Corp?" "Yes Sir, I am." "It's working. Keep it up for me-for the both of us." "Yes, Sir!" "Hm...Y'know I love y'right?" "I know, Simon." "...Well. I'm still wearin' yer tags, Birdie." "How cute..." and You shut your eyes and held his hand, slowly rubbing his thumb with your own. "Love'y'sim'n..."

"Love y'too, Lovie...Love ye too."

Your funeral came, and Simon was there, handing you a bunch of flowers-the same kind as he gave you on your first date-and your wedding. Sunflowers. Your favorite. He said a few words for you and that night when he went home-he cried. Because it dawned on him-really dawned on him, that you were trulyGone.

No. Not gone...you were still alive in his mind and heart, and he hoped that you would stay there.

Years came and went, Simon aged, and he never forgot you. Thank fuck. He lived on as he did as when you two were married...just, he was more silent. He slept only when he absolutely needed too. He became a part of task force 141 and Price-he of course knew about you and how you still affected Simon after years and years of being dead.

But then there was Johnny. Soap, they called him. Ghost liked him-though he never admit to it. Simon thought he was funny. Childish sure, but liked him all the same.

Liked him too much.

Liked him how Simon liked You.

Ghost caught himself staring at Soap for longer periods of time, found himself wishing that their conversations were longer-he liked hearing about Johnny family. Liked hearing about his past. Loved talking about what Soap liked and didn't like.

But it was during on certain mission that he finally let himself act on those feelings-Over the coms of course.

"Soap. Soap...Johnny!"

"I'm here."

"Thought we lost you for a second there, Sergeant...how copy?"

"I'm good."

"Don't lie, Johnny."

"Got shot in the shoulder...I'll be fine."

"Keep your blood in-you'll need every drop."

"Yes, Sir."

"Now, if you can stand, you can walk...can you stand?"

"Yes Sir."

"Then get the hell outta there! I'll be waiting for you by the shhkjk-"

"Sir?" "Did I cut out?"

"Yeah ye did, Lt..."

"...I'll guide ye. Get into a house for now. Don't matter what one-just find one, Soap."

and so Johnny did. He found one, infested with Shadows.

"I'm in the tub, Sir."

"Well-god t'know y'live up t'yer name, Soap."

"Haha, real funny, Lt...didja see the caged dog?"

"Big geezer. If he barks, shoot and repo quickly. Don't get compromised."

"You are stone cold, Simon..."

"What has to legs and bleeds?"

"Don't tell me."

"Half a dog."

"I told ye not ta tell me."

"Two fish were inna fish bowl."

"Go on..."

"One turns to the other and goes, You know how to drive this thing? ....Little army humor...another?"

"Please, no."

"Suit yourself..."

"I'm outside."

"Get to the coffee shop."

Soap did as he was told, and Simon talked to him through the whole thing, the need to hear his voice bigger than his urge to live through this thing. Johnny asked about Price-Simon shut it down.

"I trust the captain...if he knew, he'd be here."

"Be careful who you trust, Sargent...people you know can hurt you the most."

"Good advice Lt...I wanna be like you when I grow up."

You wanna be betta than me, Johnny."

"I will be."

"Good man."

"Think I'll live that long?"

"Probably not." But Simon hoped he did.

"You may get a brag rag for this..."

"A medal?"

"Chest candy."

"That's all rubbish..."

"You said you wanted a win...congratulations. Your a winner..."

"Away an' beil yer 'ead!"

"English, Mactavish."

"Sorry sir...let me translate..."Go fuck yourself."

"Much betta..."

And then, the subject of Y/n came about-and Simon answered, but his heart clenched at the thought of her again-buried with his tags...

"Hey-Lt. Who's tags d'ya wear? Cuz they aint yer's..."

"Me Lovie's...Y/n, her name was."

"...Was?"

"She's not here no mo', Johnny. She's gone-been gone f'a while now."

"...Sorry t'hear that, Lt."

"Let's be sorry about you, Soap...your not even at the coffee shop yet, are ye?"

"...Fuck. How'd ye know?"

"Don't worry about it-worry about yerself-like a said previously."

"Yes, Sir."

And Soap shut up-for a few seconds. He never really could dtay silent with Simon. Fuckin' yapper. Simon loved it though.

"I'm in the coffee shop, Lt."

"Get us a tea yeah, Johnny?"

"Fuuuckin' brits..."

"Find the bar, and then get outside to the fountain. I'll keep look out."

"Yes, Sir."

PART TWO????