#villa slow

[miryum]

Foundling Villa- Chapter 12

Royal!Charles Leclerc x Reader. Princess Y/n is arranged to marry Prince Charles. There will be many ups and downs that the author hasn’t planned out yet, but read along to find out more! (Yes, I know that sounds super cheesy) Warnings per chapter. Hope you guys enjoy!

Tag list: @notleclerc @sunsumonner @saturnsrinqs @livster @chonkybonky @eau-rougee @champomiel @justyouraverageeverydaysimp @multifandom-loser

Warnings: Argument, misogyny, a man being a putz and hitting on reader (he grabs her wrist), and protective!Charles (yes, that’s a warning)

ao3 link  next chapter>>

Princess Leclerc,

I am, admittedly, surprised by your letter. It’s not often that a princess writes to me after I attend her brother-in-law’s coronation with tales of foreboding. 

I’m happy that you call me a friend. It’s nice to know that I have confidante in this upscale ladder of hierarchy. 

Concerning your words, I’m afraid I can’t say much more. My father would have my hide. Hopefully, he doesn’t find out that we’re conversing. 

Enza and Redull have always had a rivalry. It started when Redull was an up- and- coming kingdom. Enza felt threatened, so the king sent troops to watch over our building and monarchy. The people of Redull didn’t look kindly on that, and if Enzan troops hadn’t been deployed, Redull’s territory could be much more expensive today. My kingdom has never forgiven yours. My father, especially, had a personal vendetta against Enza. I’m not sure I’m in a position to disclose why. 

There is the past. I cannot tell you the future. All I can say is: tread carefully in the present.

Best wishes,

Prince Max Verstappen 

P.S. pawn to f6

**

“King Stein, once again, I wish to express my immense gratitude for allowing me and my wife to stay with you.” Charles shook King Stein’s hand and bowed. It was a lovely day and the royals of both Enza and Haas stood on the steps of the Haas castle. 

“It’s my pleasure!” King Stein grinned. “The kingdom of Haas is always welcome to Enzans. And my daughter loves having Princess Y/n as a playmate.” Charles glanced over to watch as you swooped up the princess of Haas in a large hug, whispering goodbyes and promises to come again. “But Prince Charles,” King Stein gripped the younger man closer. “Remember what we discussed. It’s vital to Formuline’s future. I recommend sending your quickest messenger to your brother to tell him what you learned.”

“Yes, of course. Once again, my deepest thanks.” Charles bowed once more before his eyes shifted back over to you. “Darling,” Charles ambled over to you and the young princess, setting a hand on your lower back. “We really should be going; King Verstappen is expecting us before nightfall.”

You sighed dramatically. “You’re right, unfortunately. I am so sorry, Princess.” You set the girl down, bopping her on the nose. “I must go now.”

The Princess of Haas groaned. “Noooo! Princess Y/n! We’re not done playing!”

“I know, dear,” you crouched down and pouted. “But I’ll visit soon, okay?”

“Okay…” the young girl huffed. “Do you think you could bring your baby next time?”

You frowned cautiously. “What baby?”

“Your and Prince Charles’ baby!” The girl exclaimed, “everybody has babies and I wanna see yours! I bet they're adorable!”

“We’ll get right on that,” Charles smirked, hand snaking to your waist and pinching your side. You slapped his hand away and bid goodbye to the monarchs of Haas.

The flirting between you and Charles had increased, and you weren’t sure why. It made you feel like a teenager again, daydreaming about the beautiful people you saw at court with your sisters. Your connection with Charles had grown ever since the night at Foundling Villa and the unfortunate death of King Hervé. Along with the connection, the butterflies in your stomach. 

Charles took his place beside you in the carriage and opened up a small chest. “What are you doing?” You hummed, peering at the chest and resting your head on his shoulder. 

“I need to write a letter to Lorenzo,” Charles explained. “King Stein said some very interesting things that shed some light on our current situation.”

“Like what?” You nuzzled into his side, feeling tired after your visit in Haas. Charles focused on the parchment, quill, and ink in front of him. He hoped to ignore the fluttering in his stomach and the pain in his chest.

He started composing his letter to Lorenzo, simultaneously telling you what he had learned. “Redull came to Haas asking for an alliance. Haas demanded to know why, but Redull refused. King Stein heard from King Hamilton that Redull also came to him. We’re nowhere close to knowing their plan, but it’s going to be big. Clearly, Redull doesn’t believe they can do it alone. As long as we keep allies away from them, it’ll buy us more time. I don’t want to believe my worries, but Redull may be looking for war. If they acquire the support of another large kingdom, or even a smaller kingdom such as Lauren or Aston, their army would amass overwhelming numbers that could easily cut down all of Formuline.”

When you didn’t respond with helpful insight or advice, Charles looked down at your sleeping figure. “Oh.” He blinked twice. Does this mean she trusts me now?

**

“Y/n, cherié,” Charles rubbed your back gently. “We’ve arrived in Redull.”

“What?” You mumbled, curling into him. 

“You must awaken. We have to meet with King Verstappen.” 

“Right, yes, alright.” You nodded sagely, and then promptly went back to sleep. Charles chuckled deeply. He continued to whisper sweet nothings into your ear and gently coax you awake until you were fully conscious. “I am so sorry,” you shook your head, embarrassed. “I guess the rocking of the carriage put me to sleep.”

“That’s quite alright, but we still have a meeting to attend to.” Charles knocked on the carriage interior and the door sprung open by a footman. 

“Must I join you in the meeting?” you wondered. 

Charles frowned. “I would prefer it. I’m not sure I trust the people of Redull. Especially the aristocrats. I would rather have you close by so I can see and tend to you.”

“Well, that’s very sweet, Charles, but I’m pretty sure I can handle my own.” 

“If that’s what you want,” he conceded. 

Stepping down from the carriage, you two were greeted by King Verstappen and his son, Prince Max. “Prince Leclerc! Princess Leclerc! What a pleasure to have you join us in Redull!” The two men were dressed to the nines in a way that made you suspect they were trying to upstage or intimidate you. Prince Max muttered something and his father shot him a glare, murmuring a harsh complaint back.

“King Verstappen, how chivalrous of you to invite us,” Charles said.

“Well, once I heard about your newlywed excursion around the continent, I simply had to. It didn’t seem right that you would pass through Formuline without visiting Redull. We are one of your closest allies.” The words had a thinly veiled threat hidden in it. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, after all.

“I can’t imagine how we skipped over Redull,” you spoke up, surprising the Redull monarch. “It pains me that I wouldn’t visit my good friend, Prince Verstappen.” The said man bowed lowly to you. “Oh, and Prince Verstappen,” you began. “King's pawn to e3.”

**

The throne room was bustling with people. You stuck to the edges of the room, priding yourself as a wallflower. You dreaded your decision of not following Charles to his meeting with King Verstappen. Instead of being with your husband, whom you knew, you were stuck in a room full of foreign strangers. Who knew if they were whispering behind your back, plotting the demise of Enza? Needles seemed to prick down your spine. You didn’t feel safe. You felt surrounded by wolves in sheep's clothing. Here in Redull, Charles was the only other sheep you could count on, certain he wasn’t wearing a disguise.

It didn’t help your discomfort that a man kept watching you over the rim of his glass.

This man, in military garb, had shaved blond hair and a lanky frame. His eyes, which bored into you, were a dark brown. You carefully watched as he set down his goblet and stalked over to you. 

Immediately, you turned away. Your gown, which had just been cleaned after the long trip, swished around your feet. The simple tiara that Redull maids had woven into your hair felt heavy. Spying the doors- your exit- you hurried towards them.

“Do you know where Prince Charles is?” you asked one of the guards stationed nearby. Once he gave you directions, you set out down the corridor he instructed. A quick glance over your shoulder confirmed your fears; the military man was following you. An unnerving smirk flew onto his lips when you made eye contact. You turned away and your steps became faster. You knew that as long as you found Charles, this man would leave you alone. You wondered if you should’ve stayed in the throne room- at least people were there to witness anything. Guards had lined the room, capable of intervening. Cursing your impulsive thinking, you knew you were too far into the halls of Redull to turn back. 

Unfortunately, the man caught up to you just as you rounded a corner. “Princess Y/n of Enza, correct?” His gravelly voice made your insides curl with disgust. 

“Princess Leclerc, yes,” you corrected him, attempting to brush past. Just one more hallway and the room where Charles sat would be in your sights. 

“I’m Duke Samuel Hasting. I also hold the title of a commander of King Verstappen’s cavalry.” He seemed to boast, yet his brag wasn’t as grand as he had hoped.

“Fascinating.” You wanted to roll your eyes. “I also hold the title of married.”

“Yet, where’s your husband?” Hasting looked even more disgusting as he lent into you. 

“In a room right down the hall, actually. Would you like me to grab him for you?” 

“No, no, that’s alright. I’m sure he doesn’t have to know everything that happens to you.” Hasting grabbed your wrist.

“I will scream,” you said lowly. It sounded more like a threat than a warning. “Let go of me this instant.”

“Oh, Princess, you don’t mean that.” It sounded like Hasting was trying to sound seductive, but he just sounded constipated.

“I do mean it,” you retorted. “Why would I say it otherwise? That’s stupid.” You wrenched out of his grip and stormed down the hall. Finally turning the corner, you saw Charles exiting the meeting room, shaking hands with advisors of Redull, looking pleased, yet reserved. 

“Y/n!” Hasting called out sharply.

“Y/n?” Charles’ head turned towards you. You let out a sigh of relief. Seeing your expression, Charles’ brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?” He stepped towards you, hand outstretched and you grasped it thankfully. “Y/n?” he asked again.

“Please, can we leave?” you asked.

“Yes, but why?” Charles’ eyes darted to Hasting, who stood at the end of the corridor.

“Princess Y/n was bothering me,” Hasting smoothly lied. “Making advances, and such. I thought you should know.”

“Is this true, cherié?” Charles glanced down at you. 

You shook your head, a little hurt that he thought you would flirt with another man. “The opposite, actually. I was coming to get you when this… Duke grabbed me.”

“He touched you?” Charles’ words became dangerously low. 

“He took hold of my wrist, Charles. It wasn’t that bad.”

“No, you’re wrong. He should never have touched you. What this Duke did was betray the trust of Enza by pursuing you.” Your husband shot a look at the Redull advisors, who shrunk from his stare.

“Charles, please, can we simply leave? I don’t feel comfortable here.” Admittedly, this new protective, even possessive, side of Charles sparked something within you.

“If that’s what you want.” Charles shot one last glare at Hasting. Hasting glowered back, pissed that you outed him. Charles placed a hand on your back and swept you towards the palace entrance.

As you and your husband passed Hasting, the latter man clapped a strong hand on your shoulder, jerked you backward, and snarled, “you bitch!” His hand drew back, as if to slap you, but Charles intervened.

It would best be described as a dance. Charles’ movements were fluid and languid. In one motion, Charles gently pushed you behind him, reared back, and punched the man. “That is my wife!” A primal instinct seemed to rush over him: an instinct to protect what he loved. 

Blood poured out of Hasting’s broken nose and the skin at Charles’ knuckles split. Redull advisors were quick to pull Charles back, lest he do anything worse. You and Charles were ushered out of the Redull palace, hurried goodbyes from both you and Prince Max; you wanted one good tie to the kingdom. 

Once you were in the carriage, tying one of your handkerchiefs around his hand, you whispered softly, “thank you, Charles.”

Charles’ eyes had gone from livid to loving. “I told you- I’d do anything for you.”

[urloveangel]

[whitehartlane]

reports chelsea and newcastle are sympathetic to city and might join the lawsuit makes sense considering their own fundings but villa potentially also being sympathetic has done my head in. this is what’s wrong with modern pl football. the fact that city and chelsea have cheated their way into being champions and haven’t even got a slap on the wrist for it by the league means that other clubs are taking their example and attempting to shortcut their way into becoming a consistent top 4 club as well (you’ve seen it with newcastle now and if the villa rumours are true then they’re also eyeing dodgy investment to fast track them to the top).

it’s a rollercoaster that doesn’t stop. even if they get reprimanded now post everything, chelsea and city have still built their global success and fame and that kind of legacy doesn’t fade with a few financial restrictions. it’s an absolute slap in the face to clubs like us that languished in midtable and the lower half for decades before we had an owner who was committed to the financial growth of the club take over and slowly build us to the point of gaining enough revenue to attract the best players and be able to compete financially against the historically successful clubs in the league. like what is even the point trying to compete when the league doesn’t care?

[metanoia-haus]

ɪɴsᴛᴀɢʀᴀᴍ @ᴀʀᴄʜɪᴛᴇᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ.ᴡᴀᴠᴇ:

[oopsl]

Both Directions At Once: The Lost Album by John Coltrane, 2018

[fabriziosbardella]

Il nuovo appuntamento col Mercato Contadino a Villa Cortese sarà sabato 6 aprile dalle 9 alle 13 presso Piazza Della  Quercia ( Via A. Da Giussano)  #mercatocontadino #villacortese #eventi #mercatini #chilometrozero #slowfood #fabriziosbardella #prodottistagionali #inevidenza #primopiano

[calypso-rt]

HONEYMOON

with Rafe Cameron

-> Rafe x F!Reader

📍 Amalfi Coast, Italy 🇮🇹

You knew honeymooning with Rafe Cameron would be an experience.

But as you step onto the sun drenched terrace of your private villa overlooking the endless stretch of the Mediterranean, waves crashing gently against the cliffs below, you realize nothing could have prepared you for this.

It’s breathtaking. The kind of view that belongs in a postcard, all golden light and soft ocean breeze, the scent of lemon trees lingering in the air.

And then there’s Rafe, grinning like he planned this entire thing himself (he didn’t), hands in his pockets, watching you expectantly.

“Well?” he prompts, shifting closer, voice dipping into something softer. “Worth marrying me for?”

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you. “Jury’s still out.”

Rafe hums, unconvinced. “Mm. Guess I’ll have to spend the next week proving you made the right choice.”

Before you can fire back, his arms loop around your waist, pulling you into him with that effortless ease, the kind that still makes your breath catch, even after everything. His lips find your temple, lingering just long enough to send warmth spreading through your chest.

And suddenly, you don’t care about the luggage still sitting by the door. Or the very long flight it took to get here.

Because Rafe is here. And he’s yours.

And if the next week looks anything like this?

You’re definitely in trouble.

☀️ Lazy Tanning on the Coast

The afternoon sun is warm against your skin, a lazy breeze rolling in from the water as you stretch out on the lounge chair. The sound of waves crashing against the cliffs below is almost hypnotic, so much so that you don’t even notice Rafe shifting closer until you feel his fingers graze your wrist. “You’re not even trying to tan,” he murmurs, lips curving into a smirk. You peek at him over your sunglasses. “Maybe because I don’t need to turn into a lobster like you.” Rafe scoffs, dramatically offended. “Lobster? Baby, I’m gonna be golden.” “You’re gonna be burnt." He ignores that, reaching over to steal your drink without asking, sipping lazily before setting it back down, closer to his side of the table. You huff, but before you can snatch it back, he shifts onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as he studies you. “What?” you ask, suspicious. His expression softens, a slow grin tugging at his lips. “You just look good. Happy.” The words settle warm in your chest, and for once, you don’t have a teasing remark ready. Instead, you reach out, threading your fingers through his where they rest between you. “I am,” you admit. And with him under the golden Italian sun, you really are.

🏍 Him absolutely renting a Vespa just to “impress you”

“You’re going to kill us.” Rafe scoffs, revving the Vespa like it’s a full blown motorcycle. “Baby, have a little faith.” You tighten your grip around his waist, already regretting this. “Last time you drove something this small, you ran over Topper’s foot.” “Okay, first of all, that was his fault for standing too close. Second, this is different. I’ve got it under control.” Famous last words. The Vespa wobbles as he takes off, and you let out an actual scream, clinging to him for dear life. Rafe just laughs, one hand way too casually gripping the handlebar. “Relax,” he says over the wind, sounding downright smug. “You’re in good hands.” You peek over his shoulder, past the stunning coastline, the rows of pastel-colored buildings, the winding cobblestone streets you’re probably about to crash into, and sigh. “Just try not to get us banned from Italy, okay?” Rafe chuckles, his free hand reaching down to squeeze yours where it rests against his stomach. “No promises, Mrs. Cameron.” And despite yourself, despite the very real possibility of disaster, you can’t help but smile.

🍝 Romantic candelit dinners where you can't keep your eyes off of him

The restaurant is tucked into the cliffs, candlelight flickering against white linen tablecloths, the sound of waves crashing below blending seamlessly with the soft hum of conversation. It’s the kind of place straight out of a dream: warm, intimate, effortlessly romantic. And yet, the only thing you can focus on is Rafe. He sits across from you, sleeves rolled up, tanned skin golden in the glow of the candles. There’s a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as he watches you, fingers idly tracing the rim of his wine glass. “You’re staring,” he murmurs. You roll your eyes, spearing a piece of pasta with your fork. “You’re imagining things.” Rafe leans forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Mmm. Don’t think so.” His voice dips, teasing but quiet, like it’s meant just for you. “Starting to think you like me, sweetheart.” You hum, pretending to consider. “Well, I did marry you. So, I guess you’re not totally awful.” His smirk deepens, but instead of responding, he reaches across the table, fingers grazing your wrist before curling around your hand completely. The warmth of his touch sends a flutter through your chest, one you pretend not to feel as he rubs slow, lazy circles against your skin. For once, there’s no bickering. No teasing. Just him. Just this. And as the night stretches on, wine glasses emptied, dessert shared, his foot nudging yours under the table, you realize something for the millionth time. You don’t just like Rafe Cameron. You love him.

🌊 A boat ride that ends with both of you in the water.

The sun is high, the water impossibly blue as the boat drifts lazily along the coast. It’s quiet except for the occasional hum of the engine and the rhythmic lapping of waves against the hull. Rafe stands at the bow, arms outstretched like he owns the ocean, wind ruffling his sun-bleached hair. “See? Told you renting a boat was a genius idea.” You lean back against the railing, sipping your drink. “Mmm. I’ll be impressed when you actually do something.” He turns, raising a brow. “Is that a challenge?” You smirk. “More like a fact.” And then, before you can react, Rafe strides toward you, that dangerous glint in his eye as he sets your drink to the side. “Rafe—” Too late. His arms wrap around you, warm and solid, and in one swift motion, he dives off the side, taking you with him. The water is a shock, cool against your sun-kissed skin, bubbles rushing around you as you resurface with a gasp. “Rafe!” you splutter, shoving wet hair from your face. He’s already floating beside you, grinning so smugly you could throttle him. “You said I should do something.” “You’re impossible!” You flick water at him, but he just laughs, swimming closer. Then, his hands find your waist beneath the waves, tugging you against him effortlessly. His voice drops, lower, softer. “But you love me anyway.” You roll your eyes, but your arms loop around his neck, your legs tangling with his in the water. “Unfortunately.” He grins before closing the space between you, his lips warm despite the cool water, the sea carrying you both in lazy circles. And maybe his boat idea was kind of genius.

🛏 Mornings spent tangled in crisp white sheets, sunlight spilling through open windows, his lazy grin the first thing you see.

Morning comes slow, golden light spilling through the open windows, the soft rustle of the ocean breeze slipping through sheer white curtains. The sheets are a tangled mess, warm, wrinkled, wrapped around your legs and twisted somewhere between you and Rafe. You blink sleepily, stretching against the pillows, only to be met with the sight of him. Rafe lies beside you, arm thrown lazily over your waist, his bare chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. His hair is a mess, sun-kissed strands falling over his forehead, and when he stirs, just barely, his lips curve into a lazy, lopsided grin. “Morning, Mrs. Cameron,” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep. Your heart does that stupid fluttering thing, but you roll your eyes anyway, fingers tracing absentmindedly along his jaw. “You just like saying that.” He hums, eyes still half-closed as he tugs you closer, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your bare shoulder. “Obviously.” You sigh, letting yourself melt into him, into the warmth of his skin, the steady press of his heartbeat against yours. Neither of you rush to move. There’s nowhere to be, nothing to do but exist here in this perfect little pocket of time where the world is quiet and love feels as easy as breathing. And as Rafe buries his face in the crook of your neck, mumbling something about five more minutes, you know, without a doubt, you wouldn’t trade this for anything.

A/N: Inspo struck guys I'm on a roll

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Good Dog.

Pairing: Yandere!SatoSugu x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 5.5k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Pet Play, Wildly Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Bondage, Revoked Consent, Kidnapping, Manipulation, and Rough Sex. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

[Part Two]

About half an hour into your first date, Suguru told you that he was an animal trainer.

He mentioned it offhandedly, filling in a blank you hadn’t thought to ask about, but anything more interesting than ‘financial manager’ or ‘digital entrepreneur’ would’ve caught your attention. “It’s nothing exciting,” he explained, smirking at your eagerness to pry. “Dogs and cats, not lions and tigers. It’s a good gig, if you’ve got the patience for it.”

About three hours later, after a main course, a round of drinks, dessert, a second round of drinks, and your waiter politely clearing his throat as he dropped an unrequested, but well-deserved check onto the corner of your table, Suguru asked if you’d like to come back to his place for a drink. You laughed, propping your chin on your fist. “I don’t know,” you started, a teasing drawl in your voice. “You’re sure you’re not one of those charming serial killers, right?”

His eyes darted to the side, his smile quirking. “…if I said I was, would you still come home with me?”

You were on your feet by the time he finished. “I guess I’ll just have to risk it.”

Ten minutes later, you were in the passenger seat of Suguru’s car as he pulled into a sprawling, rustically ornate villa. You fought the urge to whistle as his headlights fell onto outermost facade. You should’ve guessed from the restaurant, but still, you would’ve been impressed by a more-or-less furnished apartment. A countryside mansion was something you hadn’t even known to hope for.

It was only as you pried open your door, one foot already on the ground, that he told you he had a dog.

“You probably won’t meet him,” he shrugged, rounding the hood of the car to your side. An arm was extended and accepted – the gravel driveway quickly proving too much for your pin-prick heels. “Satoru’s a little shy around new people.”

“Satoru,” You repeated, more to yourself than to him. What a strange name for a dog. Must’ve been a purebred. “That’s too bad. I was looking forward to seeing your training skills up close.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry.” He rested a hand on your elbow, squeezing gently. “You’ll get a chance to.”

Admittedly, there wasn’t a lot of blood left in your head to think with, after that.

Your feet had left the ground entirely by the time you reached the porch. Suguru had no problem carrying you, and not having to worry about pesky inconveniences like putting one foot in front of the other meant you had more time to string your arms around his neck and run your fingers through his hair as you divided your attention between his mouth and his throat. You kept yourself occupied, pressing open-mouthed kisses into the latter as he struggled with the lock and stumbled over the threshold. Your back hit a wall before the door was shut, but you were beyond the point of caring, by then.

One of the many things you liked about Suguru was his size. Standing up, he was about a head or so taller than you, and bent over you like this, supporting you with little more than the tension of his body pressed into yours, he seemed to eclipse you entirely; dark hair cutting off your vision, large hands wrapping around your thighs, teeth that were more similar to the fangs of some great, terrible animal than anything human ghosting over the curve of your throat. You felt his chest slot against yours, pinning you against the wall as distracted fingers fumbled with the zipper of your dress, and his head dipped, mouth latching onto the slope of your shoulder in a slow, bruising love-bite. The process was painstaking and noisy, the joint sounds of his breathy moans and your whimpers enough to fill the entryway twice-over. Really, it was a wonder you managed to hear the footsteps at all.

It wasn’t that your attention drifted, just that you couldn’t stop yourself from acting on reflex. You heard padding footsteps, the metal ting, ting, ting of swinging tags, and raised your head, unconsciously searching for a dog, a pet, an animal. And, in a way, you found one. Honestly, it took you a beat too long to realize that what you were looking at wasn’t an animal – lean and pale, peering tentatively around the corner as he made his way down the staircase that led further into the villa. White leather faded into pale skin, crossing over his chest and wrapping around his thighs, supporting a pair of white thigh-high socks and matching paw-shaped mittens. The second worst part was his face; bisected by a titanium muzzle in the shape of a snout. Two white dog ears, the same color as his other accessories, framed his expression on either side, bouncing slightly as he walked.

The absolute worst part was, of course, the erect and leaking cock between his legs.

Suguru must’ve felt you go rigid. With an irritated groan, he pulled away, lowering you gently back onto your feet. He noticed the strange, naked man just as quickly, acknowledging him with a roll of his eyes. You were quickly abandoned in favor of lowering himself to one knee and cupping the naked man’s face, who panted happily in response.

“Satoru,” Suguru mumbled, carding his fingers through the man’s bone-white hair. “I thought you were going to be good and stay upstairs, for now?”

There was a non-verbal response, mostly tail wagging and clipped barks, and you stared blankly at the drooling, leaking man. At Satoru.

You might’ve said something – about a cigarette, or fresh air. You’d never know. You were on the other side of the door before the sound of your own voice could catch you, trudging stiffly to the end of the driveway.

You needed to get out of here. You wanted to get out of here. You kept one arm crossed over your chest while your free hand shot for your phone, a list of a dozen identical rideshare apps already flitting through your mind. You were cursing the lack of available drivers (why hadn’t you noticed how remote this place was earlier?) when you heard gravel crunching under rushed footsteps, Suguru’s airy laugh.

“I know, I know,” he started, while you were still glaring at your phone. “I’m an asshole.”

Colorful language, but not the type you would’ve opted to use, at the moment. “You told me you had a dog.”

“Oh, god, I did, didn’t I?” There was another laugh, a quick shake of his head, like he didn’t fully remember something he’d said all of three minutes ago. “I’m sorry – I just get into character. It’s hard not to, after a few months.”

You didn’t relax, but you didn’t bristle, either. Suguru took the opportunity to go on. “Look, whatever you’re thinking, it’s not like that. I didn’t lie to you about anything. I really am a trainer, and this really is my place. Satoru’s my client.”

You paid him a wary glance. “Client?”

“Mhm. CEOs and rich fuckers with a lot of power and a lot of money to throw around like to turn their brain off, every now and then. Since they can’t risk anyone they’ve been seen with going to the tabloids, people like me get brought in to—” He paused, shrugged. “—help them relax, I guess.”

“You expect me to believe that guy’s a CEO?”

His wry grin widened, sharpened. “Have you heard of the Gojo clan?”

Of course you had. The Gojo clan owned half of every business in Japan. The Gojo clan had enough property to build their own continent.. The Gojo clan--

You pursed your lips. Slowly, deliberately, your phone was powered off and slid back into your pocket, any other plans you might’ve had for it immediately forgotten.

“No.”

“Yes.” And then, with a note of pride in his voice, “Satoru’s the scion.”

“And he pays you to…”

“Pretend he’s a dog,” Suguru picked up, unflinchingly. “Or a cat. Or a maid. It’s pretty flexible. The costumes get a little out of hand, sometimes.”

You’d noticed. “And to lure women back to his mansion and… what? Have sex with them while he watches?”

There was another airy laugh, this one less apologetic than the first. “No, no, it’s not like that. Satoru’s not the voyeur type, and I don’t like sharing the spotlight. I let him know I was bringing someone over, but he probably thought it’d be funny to scare you – catch us both off-guard, y’know?” He flashed you a smile. “I promise, you’re here because I want you to be. That’s it.”

It was a little insulting, honestly – just how unfaltering he was. Part of you felt offended, like he’d accused you of overreacting, but another, quieter, more base faction chided you for being over-dramatic, for storming out like a child having a temper-tantrum. Because it had been childish, hadn’t it been? For as much as he’d surprised you, Satoru hadn’t seemed to be under any kind of duress, and it wasn’t like Suguru had fundamentally changed sometime in the past few minutes. Looking at him now, with his easy smile and tired eyes, it was impossible not to recognize the man who’d come up to you in your favorite coffee shop, practically tripping over your name; the man you’d spent nearly four hours talking to tonight, and enjoyed every second of it.

“…’caught off guard’ is kind of an understatement,” you mumbled, letting your shoulders slump.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I must’ve forgotten he was coming over tonight. I should’ve been more thoughtful.” His shoulders fell. “If you want to call it here, I get it. Just let me grab my keys – I don’t want you in a stranger’s car so late at night.”

It took you a few seconds to find your voice, but when you did respond, it was with a valiant effort to mirror his easy charm. Admittedly, it didn’t come as naturally to you. “And if I don’t want to call it here?”

Suguru seemed to appreciate the effort. “Then I’d ask for a couple minutes to tell Satoru to fuck off,” he started, slowly, his arm finding it way around your waist. He pulled you into his chest, and you let him. “And make sure I’m all yours.”

It was humiliating – how quickly you cracked. As soon as he finished, you sighed, shaking your head. “No, no, you shouldn’t have to do that. I really should apologize to him.” Suguru hummed curiously, and you clarified. “For running out like that, I mean. It might’ve been a little rude.”

Suguru chuckled, kissing your forehead. “If you say so, sweetheart.”

He held your hand as he led you back inside, the door left ajar from your hasty exit. Satoru was waiting in the entryway - still uncomfortable exposed, but sitting cross-legged with Suguru’s jacket draped over his shoulders. You made a point of keeping your eyes on his collarbones or above, just in case.

“’toru,” Suguru called, affection thick and honey-sweet in his tone. Immediately, Satoru perked up, ambling to his feet, and you did your best not to flinch as you noticed his height, his piercing eyes, the sculpted muscle wrapped around his arms and legs. There was no scenario wherein you would’ve been nonplussed to find out your date was engaging with niche, dubiously sexual roleplay with the heir to the largest trust fund on this side of the planet, but having a less imposing image to associate with that realization might’ve helped to soften the edge.

“I want you to meet (Y/n),” he went on, the embodiment of nonchalance. You straightened, and Satoru cocked his head to the side, evaluating you. What he was looking for, you couldn’t imagine. You wished he would take off that muzzle – at least, then, you might be able to find something a little more human in his expression. “And (Y/n),” Suguru paused, nudging your side. “This is my puppy, Satoru. The one I told you about.”

You forced yourself to smile. Satoru stared at you for a long second before bowing his head, and you took the signal – bringing your hand up to pet him the same way Suguru had, watching as he melted into your palm. It was a little too easy to let the last of your anxiety wash away, an odd sort of confidence taking its place. This wasn’t so bad, not when you knew what to expect. Maybe you’d ask Suguru if Satoru had any friends with similar interests and similar numbers in their bank accounts.

“Suguru didn’t mention how pretty you were.” You let your voice lilt up into that light, cloying sort of baby-talk. With the way they were both acting, it was a little hard to remember you weren’t talking to an actual dog. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

“Careful, now. He’ll get a big head.” He squeezed your hand gently and tugged you towards the staircase. “C’mon – I know where we can get a little privacy.”

Satoru whined, but didn’t attempt to follow you as Suguru guided you up a spiraling set of stairs and into a long, blank hallway. Suguru’s home (Satoru’s home? Their home?) was remarkable unlived in, intentional decoration sparse and the clutter of everyday life entirely absent. It might’ve been off-putting if you’d been able to focus on it, but Suguru seemed eager to distract you, pawing at your waist and stealing kisses every few steps. You counted doors half-heatedly as you passed, and somewhere between eighteen and twenty-three, Suguru pulled one open and ushered you inside.

The bedroom was less non-descript. A king-sized, four-posted bed dominated the space, the sheets a sea of red satin to contrast the black, void walls. The bare necessities were littered sporadically throughout the room – a half-empty glass of water on a bedside table, a white towel hanging from the knob of the closet door, etc. The messiness was almost calculated, things left out on purpose to feign disregard. The only thing that seemed genuinely out of place was the long, braided cord looped around the upper right bedpost, so well-used that it’d ground into and softened the wood underneath. Suguru didn’t seem to notice it, so you decided against saying anything. If you were lucky, it could be useful later on.

It wasn’t like you had much of a chance to talk, anyway. There was a specific sort of fragile, uneasy tension between you and Suguru, and it never seemed to last very long when you two were alone together. The door was shouldered closed hastily, and then, his hands were on your hips, his mouth on the side of your neck. “I’ve been looking forward to this.” And then, with an airy chuckle, a nip to the corner of your jaw, “Thought I was going to have to bend you over in that fucking coffee shop.”

The humiliating part was, had he asked, you probably would have. There was no reason he should have to know that, though. “I’d say to buy my dinner first, but—” His teeth digging into the curve of your throat, a hitch in your breath. You forced out a chirping laugh as he sucked and lapped at your neck. “—I guess you beat me to it, huh?”

Suguru’s only response was a low grown, ten fingers burrowed into your waist. You started to shrug off your jacket, but Suguru was just a little faster, just a little more eager; jerking the article down with one hand while the other wrapped around your midriff. You’d known how big he was, loved the way his body measured up to yours, and yet, you couldn’t seem to suppress the little gasp that escaped your lips as you were pulled off of your feet and thrown onto the center of his bed, to ignore the fear that knotted in your chest as he loomed at the foot of the bed – hastily dragging his shirt over his head. You watched him undress with a lazy type of indulgence, more than happy to sit back and enjoy a free show. Honestly, you’d almost forgotten you were supposed to be a part of the entertainment by the time he propped a knee on the mattress and let the full weight of his attention fall onto you.

Against your better judgement, you thought about Satoru as Suguru climbed into the space between your spread legs. You couldn’t seem to imagine how he and Satoru fit together, not that you were very inclined to. It was hard to picture either one of them as very submissive; Satoru with his menacing height and bright, vigilant eyes, or Suguru with his easy smile and feline arrogance. You’d assumed it was a fetish, but you could’ve wrong, right? You’d heard of people who make paperclip chains and chew paper to relieve stress – when you weren’t actively looking at a grown man pretend to be a dog, it really didn’t seem that much stranger.

“Where do you think you’re going, pretty girl?”

Suguru’s voice, deep and saccharine, brought you back to the present. You blinked up at him, smiling. “’m right here.”

“Good girl.” Muscular thighs straddled your waist, and you whined, reaching towards him. Suguru only caught your hands in his, intertwining your fingers with his own. “Do you trust me?”

“I don’t know. You never did tell me if you were a serial killer.”

“And it didn’t stop you from coming home with me.” He squeezed gently. “Which means you do trust me – whether or not you should.”

You hummed, and that was all the confirmation he needed. Your wrists were gathered in one hand while the other reached for the black cord – not as forgotten as you’d thought. Suguru worked quickly, but deftly. A snug slip-knot soon bound your wrists above your head, and you fought the temptation to test the binding’s strength and ruin the moment. It felt slack enough, and more importantly, Suguru was already shifting, moving, gliding a hand down the length of your throat, your chest, before finally cupping your breast, groping harshly.

Unable to do much of anything else, you arched into his touch, earning a breath of a laugh from Suguru. Dark hair veiled his face as he dipped his head, lips sealing around the bud of your nipple. It seemed to be less for your pleasure and more for his entertainment – the way he sucked with such a deliberate amount of force, how slowly he drew the flat of his tongue over your skin, the feather-slight pressure of his teeth against tender flesh. The stimulation was thick and aching, simmering where it should’ve sparked. You might’ve complained if his hand hadn’t wandered to your sex, two think fingers tracing over your slit and gathering the slick that’d been building up since he invited back to his place. Calling you ‘wet’ would’ve been the understatement of the century – you were soaked. Suguru seemed to know that, too.

He lifted his head, grinning as he pulled you into a deep kiss. By the time he drew back, your lungs throbbed in your chest and he’d been reduced to muttering. “And here I was, so scared that you’d try to run away.” The heel of his palm ground into your clit, drawing out a moan muffled only by his proximity. “No, you were never going to leave before you got what you came for, were you?”

You shook your head, bucking into his hand, but Suguru only clicked his tongue. There was another open-mouthed kiss to the curve of your neck (his favorite spot, it seemed), then another the tender flesh just above your collarbone. “You have to tell me what you want, baby. Nicely.”

Two fingers slipped under your panties and into your tight heat, scissoring apart as you moaned and squirmed underneath him. “Please,” you managed, your voice reduced to a pitchy, wavering drawl. “Please, please fuck me, Suguru.”

“That’s my girl.” You felt his fingers curl inside of you and protested with a mewling whine. When Suguru did draw back, it was only to bring his palm down on your cunt in an open-handed spank that left your skin burning and sparks racing straight to your core. You swallowed down any lingering complaints as he fucked you open on three thick digits, focusing the brunt of his energy on thrusting into you with as much depth and as much force as possible with the occasional curl or split of his fingers, whenever you threatened to adjust to his erratic rhythm. Making you cum was a secondary goal; something to be considered, but not planned around. Judging by his brutal pace, the way his dark eyes stayed fixed on your expression, he was more interested in seeing just how long it took to take you apart.

It was a shame you couldn’t hold on longer, really. Suguru might’ve been patience incarnate, but you’d never had that level of self-control. It took less than a minute of his calloused fingers rubbing against the seizing walls of your cunt, of his palm grinding sloppily into your clit before you were clawing at the cord around your wrists, clenching your eyes shut, snapping your thighs together around his forearm as you came undone from seconds of his harsh stimulation. Of course, Suguru nursed you through your climax and of course, he waited until you were coherent enough to hear the humiliatingly wet noise of your cunt clenching around his digits as he drew back. Your reward came in the form of a moment to breathe, a lingering kiss pressed into the inside of your knee as he lowered himself into the space between your legs. His remaining clothes were dealt with hastily – pulled out of the way where they couldn’t be easily discarded – and before long, you felt the blunt tip of his cock tracing over your entrance, his arousal mixing with the aftermath of your climax. Beyond the use of words, you did your best to grind against him and pulled at your restraints, putting up a laughable imitation of a struggle. The corner of Suguru’s lips turned upward. With one hand wrapped around his base and the other planted on your hip, he eased into you, fitting his body against yours until he’d bottomed out.

Immediately, it was too much.

Suguru caught on quickly, too. “This is what you asked for.” Four fingers rapped against your side as he started to move, limiting himself to short, shallow thrusts. You clenched your eyes shut, digging your nails into your palms and muttering distant, abstract curses between moans. Suguru let out a pitying hum. “You’re not allowed to change your mind now, princess. Not after begging so prettily.”

As if you could. As if you’d have any reason to. It felt like he was trying to fuck your throat through your pussy; his hips grating against yours as he pulled out to the tip only to rut back in. It was less the friction that got to you and more the pressure – filling you entirely, battering against your walls, weighing down your body where it was pinned under his. His hands hooked the underside of your thighs and hauled your legs upward, pressing your knees closer to your chest than the mattress. The stretch was incredible, nearly enough to break you. It took everything you had just to open your eyes and stare blissfully at Suguru, his dark hair dripping over his face and pooling around his shoulders, his eyes narrowed into clever, condescending slits. You could see a smirk shining through his slack-lipped groaning, and over his shoulder, something white bobbed—

Something white.

Satoru.

Against your will, your attention slipped away from Suguru and onto him. You could only make out his upper body, but even that was more than you wanted to see. The bedroom door had been nudged open, and Satoru leaned against the frame, head cocked to the side and glassy blue eyes fixed on the bed. One of his arms was angled strangely, reaching for something below his navel, and you swore, even with the sound of Suguru’s skin crashing into yours, you could hear him panting. You’d assume that the muzzle would’ve done more to muffle it, but guess not.

You didn’t say anything, but the horror written across your expression was obvious. Suguru slowed, then stopped entirely, scowling as he looked over his shoulder to follow your gaze. His reaction was reserved, minimal. A sigh of a scoff, a slight shake of his head. You waited for him to get angry, to tell Satoru to leave, or better yet, to panic, to throw a sheet over your body and do anything but let his pervert of an employer keep jerking off to your exposed, vulnerable form. Instead, he only straightened, pulling to the side as if to show that much more of you off. “Your turn already, puppy?”

Satoru didn’t nod, didn’t respond, and Suguru didn’t wait for him to. Whatever mutual understanding they had between them didn’t need to be spoken aloud; it was enough for Satoru to step forward and Suguru, half-swallowing a moan, to pull out of your cunt. You couldn’t help but feel relieved, your point of connection having abruptly gone cold.

That relief was quickly replaced by stiff, frigid dread as Satoru shuffled forward, into your direct line of sight. Most of his get-up had been abandoned, leaving only his ears, pawed gloves, and of course, that terrible muzzle. Somehow, the subtractions seemed to make him less human – like he’d gone from a man pretending to be a dog to a dog pretending to be a man. Suguru didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t seem to care. There was one more squeeze to your thigh, and then Satoru was pulling himself to the headboard, positioning himself beside you. Unceremoniously, you were turned onto your stomach, your bound wrists positioned awkwardly above your head and your elbow prodding into the mattress. Your ass was dragged upward, your knees forced underneath you. Unsure of whether trying to kick out would salvage what was left of your remaining dignity or humiliate you further, you held the position.

This time, the way you jerked and thrashed against your restraints wasn’t playful. The knot had been loose enough to slip a few minutes ago, but as soon as you exerted any real amount of force, it seemed to constrict; soft rope digging into your wrists, cutting off your circulation. You felt the mattress dip behind you, heard Satoru’s rhythmic panting through the metal of his mask. Desperately, you looked to Suguru.

“R-red,” you stammered, hoping the edge in your voice would make up for the lack of an established safe-word. “Black. Pineapple. Stop. I’m not good with this, Suguru.”

Satoru’s knees on either side of yours, the dull head of drooling cock against your ass. You felt Satoru’s tip drag over the curve of your ass, streaking your skin with arousal. Suguru hummed. “But, you’ll grin and bear it, won’t you? ‘toru’s been looking forward to this all day.”

It was awful, how little his tone had changed. If it hadn’t been for the spare man now looming over you, the terror forming knots in your chest, you would’ve thought he was still making mindless dirty talk.

“I never—” Your voice caught in your throat as Satoru whined, needy and keening. Animalistic. “I don’t want to do this.”

His attention flitted between you and Satoru, never quite landing on either. “You’ll come around,” he decided, eventually. “Just like Satoru did.”

Something cold and stiff stabbed into the center of your back. At first, you wondered if that was what fear – true fear – always felt like, made more vivid by tangible betrayal and the sudden awareness of your own stupidity, but then, you realized it was only the lower edge of Satoru’s muzzle digging into your skin as he laid himself over you, and that made more sense.

Satoru was not like his owner. Suguru hadn’t been gentle, but Satoru seemed to operate on something deeper, something baser, something that didn’t give him time to breathe between forcing his cock into your sensitive cunt and his first thrust. Actually, calling it a thrust at all might’ve been too generous – he never seemed to want to pull away from you, only rut deeper, only grinding against your ass as he moaned and whined and drooled against your neck. Eventually, his chest pressed into your back, his head falling over your shoulder. You tried not to look at him, to disassociate where you couldn’t physically separate, but it would’ve been impossible to block out the way his prying eyes seared into your skin. “So pretty.” The metal distorted the exact shape of his tone, but something cloying made it through the fog. “Been waiting forever for Suguru to pick. Knew it had to be you, though. It was always gonna be you.”

You didn’t respond, but Suguru did – laughing brightly. While Satoru did his best to beat your pussy into the shape of his cock, Suguru swung his legs off the side of the bed, turning away from you as he fetched something out of the nearest bedside table. “I’m sorry,” he said, straightening back up. “I knew Satoru needed someone to keep him company while I was away, but I couldn’t bring home just any stray – he’d tear them to pieces. You were perfect, but holding ‘toru off for the months it took to prepare…” He trailed off, smiling fondly. “He’s overeager at the best of times. You can imagine what it was like – trying to tell him he had to wait to meet his kitten.”

He was lying. He was lying and he wasn’t even trying to hide it. You hadn’t known Suguru for months, you’d known him for days. There’d been a meet-cute and everything – you’d stayed at your favorite café for an hour longer than you could really afford to just to catch his eye, and he’d stuttered the first time he’d said your---

Your name.

He’d known your name.

The stabbing sensation was back. You didn’t think it was Satoru, this time.

You opened your mouth – maybe to sob, maybe to scream – but all that came out was a fractured, airy squeak. Satoru’s dick twitched inside of you, and suddenly, you were aware of just how erratic his pace had grown, just how stifling the heat rolling off of him had gotten. You clenched your eyes shut a moment before it happened, keeping them that way as something too terrible to name was pumped into you in hot, smoldering strokes. When the last spark of his climax faded, Satoru went limp against you, cuddling into your back, but Suguru was quick to chide him with a click of his tongue.

“Bad puppy.” You saw him reach for Satoru’s head, hear something metallic and taut click out of place. “Clean up your mess. Then, we’ll have you meet your kitten properly.”

Satoru grumbled, but didn’t disobey. Dragging your unresponsive body onto its side, he nestled his head between your thighs and dragged the flat of his tongue over your slit, lapping up the remnants just beginning to drip down your thighs with a tired sort of enthusiasm. Suguru shook his head wistfully. “He can be such a brat, but he means well. Ah – can you pick your head up for me, baby?”

When you failed to so much as try, Suguru cooed. “I guess you wouldn’t be.” And then, cupping your cheek, “You’re going to be a delicate little thing, aren’t you?”

“…I’m not a thing,” you spat, but it didn’t matter. He was already fitting something onto your head – a headband, the weight balanced by two off-set ears near the rounded peak. The collar was next, heavy and decorated with bows and ribbons that scratched at your throat. You were struck with the inexplicable and irresistible urge to try to claw it off, but your bound hands saved you from the humiliation.

It took you a few seconds to put a name to the last item. Made of a pale pink leather, it had an odd shape – like a cup someone had accidently made wider than it was tall. Studded straps stretched from each corner of the opening, and Suguru’s hand fell away from your cheek as he fitted it to your lower face, The upper strap was pulled tight, then the lower, until the leather pressed snugly into your skin. You started to open your mouth, but shut it just as quickly.

You should never have bothered to wonder. There was only ever one thing it could possibly be.

A muzzle.

[miryum]

Foundling Villa- Chapter 10

Royal!Charles Leclerc x Reader. Princess Y/n is arranged to marry Prince Charles. There will be many ups and downs that the author hasn’t planned out yet, but read along to find out more! (Yes, I know that sounds super cheesy) Warnings per chapter. Hope you guys enjoy!

Tag list: @notleclerc @sunsumonner @saturnsrinqs @livster

Warnings: death, funeral 

ao3 link  next chapter>>

King Hervé’s funeral was elegant. That much you could say. Whether it was what he would’ve wanted, you didn’t know. Even though you didn’t know King Hervé well, from the few encounters you had, he had seemed like a compassionate and gentle man. 

Before your wedding, you had read up on the history of Enza, and found that King Hervé had been the one to push Enza into modern times. The economy had grown, the people had prospered, and his family was happy. Suffice to say, the kingdom of Enza had taken a blow with his death. 

Even if you didn’t know the person who died, it was still depressing to be around the people who did. The air of death was prominent and it pulled you down with it. You and Charles had returned to Enza’s palace and Charles quickly found his place within the arms of his mother. You were left to float around the palace, unsure of what to do. You were only Enzan by marriage and Charles only a royal spare, so you didn’t need to be involved in the lengthy meetings that were happening around the clock. Maybe if Charles was first in line you would be pulled in, but alas, you were left alone. 

King Hervé’s passing had brought other monarchs to Enza to express their sorrow, pay tribute at the funeral, and pledge their allegiance to the new King, Lorenzo. Because of the influx of wealthy people, the rooms of Enza were quickly filled up. You and Charles agreed to share a room so more people could come to mourn his father. 

Queen Pascale didn’t tell you that there were more than enough rooms for you and your husband to sleep separately. 

You didn’t remember the funeral; it was more like a grey cloud in your mind. What you remembered was Charles standing next to you, head bowed and eyes full of tears. You remembered Queen Pascale’s black dress and veil and the flowers surrounding the casket. But the priest's words were lost on you. You mumbled the prayers in a resounding mass with everyone else, but you didn’t comprehend the words. Later, you felt guilty, as if you personally offended King Hervé by not embracing the prayers. But you knew that his family had likely done the same. You would look over to see Charles as a still statue, eyes fixated on the casket as if he could raise his father from the dead just by wishing hard enough. 

Once the funeral ended, it was as if a switch had been flipped. Enza needed a king, and fast. Coronation plans were thrust before Lorenzo and you felt bad for the poor boy. The only reminder of King Hervé’s death was Queen Pascale, wandering the halls in her mourning clothes.

One night, after chatting with Este, you went back to yours and Charles’ shared room. You were surprised to find it pitch black. The curtains, which usually allowed in an inkling of light, were tied tightly shut. The fireplace embers had long since died and you couldn’t help but wonder if they died the same time King Hervé did.

You shuffled towards the windows, intent on opening the curtains. Your eyes hadn’t adjusted yet and you were worried about knocking something over. Just as you reached the window, movement caught your eye. 

Charles was wrapped around himself in bed, a mountain of blankets crushing him. It dawned on you that this was his doing; he was the one to shut the curtains and kill the fire. His father’s death was finally catching up to him.

You weren’t sure if you should intervene, but you couldn’t leave him there with his thoughts. Loneliness would only make it worse. "Charles? Can you talk to me? You shouldn't be alone."

The room was dark with the overhang of death in the air. "He can't be gone," you heard Charles mutter. "How can the world keep turning without him?"

"Because there's still more to live for." You sat on the bed and the lump of blankets shifted. Finally, your eyes adjusted to the darkness and you could see Charles gazing up at you, tears blurring his eyes.

"Y/n, I can't." Charles tried to plead with you. The sharp, unbelieving pain had subsided into a deep ache in his gut. It was like sadness consumed him, forcing him to wallow in it forever. The reality that someone could leave you forever had not set in yet. How did people cope? How did people grieve? How could someone go on living while someone else is dead?

"Charles, may I give you a word of advice?"

"Please do. Anything." Charles curled into himself even more, if that was possible.

"A famous poet once said, ‘Not a whit, we defy augury. There is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come. The readiness is all. Since no man of aught he leaves knows, what is 't to leave betimes? Let be.’” You shifted so you were against the headboard, legs outstretched. Charles lay next to you. He twisted to face you. 

“I’m not ready to let be,” he whispered. 

“That’s okay.” The majority of you screamed not to, but the tiny side prevailed. You let a hand drift down to his hair and started combing through it, drawing circles on his temples and cheeks. 

Charles closed his eyes. “I like it when you call me Charles,” he said. 

You exhaled a laugh. “You told me.” 

“I just thought I should remind you.” 

“Thank you for doing so.”

Charles let himself relax into the bed and your touch. The two of you stayed there for a long time. You felt content, yet terrified. You thought, this shouldn’t feel like home.

**

As a direct opposite to the King’s funeral, Lorenzo’s coronation was a swirl of colours, laughter, and dancing. True to tradition, all the Leclerc brothers wore a dash of black for their deceased father and Queen Pascale still donned her black gown and robe, but you would’ve thought that the party was one of the liveliest had it not been for those factors.

Your own dress fell elegantly to the floor and Este had brushed aside customs to place you in a deep green gown. Este had said, “so many people in Enzan colours. Ah, you have to stand out!” He had then placed a silver tiara on your head, woven into your hair to insure it didn’t fall. 

The feast afterwards, even though it was held in a grand hall, felt suffocating. Dignitaries and royals from all the kingdoms in Formuline joined you that evening. Your own parents stayed far away from you, and for that you were thankful. Charles made sure to always have an eye on you in case anything was to arise. 

As the evening was winding down, you found yourself in the company of a knight, Daniel. He made you laugh like no other and even introduced you to other lords and advisors you recognised as Charles’ confidants. 

“Princess Leclerc?” An accented voice came from behind you and your insides fluttered at your new surname. You twirled around, expecting to find another friend of Charles’. Instead, your smile faltered when Prince Verstappen came into your view.

“Prince Verstappen.” You lowered your head in an informal bow. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I was wondering if the princess would grace me with a dance?” He held a hand out and the aristocrats around you fell silent. Lord Carlos slipped away to find Charles. 

“It would be rude to say no.” You placed your hand in his. 

The dance was awkward at first. You were acutely aware of the eyes on you, including the protective ones of Charles who had quickly located you after Lord Carlos whispered the situation to him. Charles couldn’t simply break up the dance- it would be considered militant and pugnacious. He would have to be content to wait and swoop in the moment the dance ended. 

“Princess Y/n, I’m sure you’ve guessed that I have an ulterior motive for dancing with you,” Prince Verstappen said. His eyes carefully scanned the room, never once looking down at you. 

“Yes, and I would like to know what it is.” Your reply was curt.

“Williams was a close ally to Redull until recent circumstances. My father was always fond of yours, and in turn, I was of you and your siblings. Don’t take this harshly, Princess, but I would… suggest that you take a trip to Aston or Alpine- somewhere far away from Redull and Enza. I encourage you to tell all whom you love to do the same.”

“Prince Verstappen, I’m sorry to say, but I don’t understand.” You shook your head. You wanted to step back and off of the dance floor, but you felt like you had an obligation to hear him out. His words were confusing and worrisome.

“I’m not even supposed to be here,” Prince Verstappen continued. “My father didn’t want anyone from Redull to attend the coronation, much less the pledging.” He was referring to when the other kingdoms pledged allegiance to the new King Lorenzo.

“Oh?” 

“But a total surprise isn’t fair to you, nor Enza’s people. You’ll do the best you can to stay out of the cross-fire, yes?” Prince Verstappen glanced down at you. His eyes were stern. At some point in his life, they probably held happiness and hope, but those times had long passed.

Before you could reply, the music swelled to an end and Charles strode towards you. Your husband placed a hand on your lower back and glowered at Prince Verstappen. “Are you alright, Y/n?” he murmured in your ear. You nodded and turned into him. Prince Verstappen bowed and excused himself. You peered after him. 

There was something he wasn’t telling you, and it didn’t sound good. 

[rafecameronssl4t]

Chosen || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader (love island au)

Summary: (lil backstory) you and Rafe have been a couple since day one and are pretty closed off but a new bombshell has come and chose Rafe for a date and now it’s time for her to choose who she wants to couple up with.

Warnings: angst

Word count: 2,070

A/n: Inspired by the whole ordeal between rob liv and leah in love island usa lol SECOND PART IS HERE

MASTERLIST (love island au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The villa was buzzing with the usual pre-recoupling jitters, and as you sat at your vanity, carefully applying the final touches of makeup, you heard Rafe’s voice echo down the hallway. “Babe,” he called out, his tone relaxed yet filled with that casual affection you’d grown to love. “Yeah, I’m in here!” you responded, smiling to yourself.

Through the mirror, you caught the familiar image of him entering, his sandy-blonde hair tousled, sun-kissed skin accentuating the sharp angles of his face. Your eyes met in the mirror, and the edges of his mouth softened into a smile that made your heart flutter.

“You okay?” he asked, stepping closer and bending down to press a gentle kiss to your shoulder, lingering just long enough to make you feel like he was truly checking in. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” you chuckled, meeting his eyes in the mirror with a playful glint. He watched your reflection intently, as if trying to read your every expression.

“Just making sure,” he murmured, pulling a chair up beside yours. He settled in, crossing his arms, his gaze steady as he watched you apply the last bit of powder. You raised an eyebrow, feigning a casual tone. “Why? Should I be worried? Is there something you’re not telling me about your date with Kayla?” You smirked, trying to keep it light, but deep down, you were fishing for any reassurance you could get.

His hand found its way to your thigh, his grip warm and reassuring as his thumb brushed soothing circles. “No, of course not,” he said, his tone calm yet firm. “I told you everything, and, honestly, I don’t think she’ll pick me. We don’t have that spark—you and I do, though, yeah?” His eyes held yours, his expression open and genuine.

His gaze was steady, his smile reassuring, and despite the flicker of insecurity, you let out a slow breath, his words sinking in and soothing the lingering doubts in the back of your mind. “Okay,” you said finally, a genuine smile breaking through as he chuckled.

“You’re adorable, you know that?” he said, leaning in to press a series of soft kisses along your bare shoulder making you giggle, a genuine, unrestrained laugh that he seemed to crave as he pulled back, grinning. “What are you wearing tonight?” he asked, scanning the room with an approving gaze as his eyes landed on the green dress you’d laid out on the armchair nearby.

“That one.” You nodded toward the dress, and he hummed, his smile widening in approval. “Good choice. It’s gonna drive the others crazy.” “Glad you think so,” you replied, warmth creeping into your cheeks as you noticed the way he looked at you—like you were the only person who existed.

“Well, I’ll let you get ready,” he said, standing up and moving behind you. Through the mirror, you caught yourself staring. How could you not when Rafe looked so... edible. He met your gaze in the mirror, catching your look, and smirked. “Like what you see, Mrs. Cameron?” he teased, his voice dropping to a playful, almost dangerous tone that made you laugh.

“Very much,” you replied, tilting your head back as he leaned down, catching your lips in a kiss that was both soft and full of promise, a reminder of the bond that the two of you had since day one. But before things could get too heated, you gently placed a hand on his jaw, pushing him back with a giggle.

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” he said, chuckling as he stepped back. Before he could leave, the door opened, and you both turned to see Kayla enter, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Rafe. “Hey,” Rafe greeted her casually, his tone polite but distant. You watched them exchange brief smiles before looking away, busying yourself with your lip gloss as Kayla approached her drawers.

“Hey, Y/n,” she greeted you brightly, her tone friendly as she settled beside you. “Hey,” you replied with a polite smile. “Excited for tonight?” “Oh, definitely!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’m so ready to sleep next to someone again; it’s been way too long.” She giggled, and you chuckled in response, keeping the mood light even as you fought off a pang of unease.

“Do you know who you’re choosing?” you asked, carefully applying your lip gloss as she fiddled with something in her drawer. She nodded confidently, her fingers tapping lightly as she glanced at you with a knowing smile. “Uh-huh. I knew who I was gonna pick the second I walked in here.”

You nodded, hoping your expression didn’t betray the subtle tightening in your chest. It was in these little moments that the villa’s intensity hit, the constant swirl of emotions and unspoken fears. But as you caught a glimpse of your own reflection, you reminded yourself of the quiet confidence in Rafe’s words, of the unspoken bond you’d built.

~

The night air felt thick with tension as everyone gathered around the firepit, the familiar crackling flames casting flickering shadows across the group. You sat beside Rafe, his arm draped casually over your shoulders. The warmth of his touch had been a quiet comfort, his thumb tracing soothing patterns along your skin—a small reassurance that whatever happened tonight, he was there.

But as Kayla’s voice broke through the murmur of anticipation, her words twisted the air around you, each one slicing deeper than the last. "I'm coupling up with this person because, from the moment we started talking, I definitely sensed that we had potential and that there was a spark there that I want to explore," Kayla said, her tone confident and unwavering as her gaze locked on the group.

Your eyes dropped to the flames, heart pounding, silently willing her words to be about someone else. When she finally spoke his name, “The person I want to couple up with is… Rafe,” the world seemed to freeze. Your breath hitched, and a wave of shock washed over you, cold and biting, despite the warmth of the firepit. Around you, a few gasps broke the silence, the girls’ faces mirroring the same surprise that you felt.

Your eyes darted to Kayla, disbelief clouding your expression, and then turned to Rafe, who sat motionless beside you, his face an unreadable mask as he stared blankly at the ground. “Really? Nothing to worry about?” you said, your voice low but sharp, brushing his arm off your shoulder. Anger surged through you, raw and uncontainable. You’d trusted him, taken his reassurances at face value.

And now, every promise felt like it had shattered between you. Rafe’s shoulders slumped slightly as he raked a hand through his hair, a long sigh escaping his lips as he shook his head. “Rafe, you look surprised at Kayla's decision,” the host, Sophie commented , looking at him expectantly. He hesitated, his gaze finally flickering up to meet Kayla’s. “Yeah, uh—I don’t know what to say, really,” he mumbled, the frown deepening across his face.

“I thought I made it clear that I wasn’t really interested,” he shrugged, but his words felt hollow to you, hanging in the tense air between him and Kayla. Kayla’s eyes flashed with indignation, and she crossed her arms, a hint of challenge in her expression. “Wow, yeah—that’s not how I felt during our date,” she said with a pointed look, and you felt a pang of betrayal twist in your stomach as her words settled over you.

The whole night, the small reassurances Rafe had given you, the gestures, the closeness—it all felt tainted. Sophie's voice cuts through, pulling you from the storm of emotions swirling within you. “Well, Kayla, if you could switch places with Y/n… and Y/n, if you could come stand beside me.” Standing, you avoided looking at Rafe or Kayla, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

You forced yourself to breathe as you stepped away from the firepit, feeling the collective gaze of the group on you. “Y/n, you are now single, which leaves you vulnerable here on Love Island,” Sophie announced. You nodded slowly, your jaw tight as you bit down on your bottom lip, desperately holding back the flood of emotions welling inside you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Rafe looking anywhere but at you, his gaze flickering across the ground as if trying to distance himself from the situation. The sense of betrayal weighed heavily on you, every unspoken word thickening the air between you. As soon as Sophie left, the girls immediately swarmed around you, their arms linking through yours as they ushered you away from the firepit and into the makeup room.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered to Sofia, who gave you a sympathetic squeeze. “Honestly, you deserve so much better than that,” she whispered, her hand rubbing comforting circles on your back.

~

Rafe’s voice was soft but strained as he appeared behind you, his presence looming uncertainly. “Can we please talk?” His tone was laced with a vulnerability you weren’t used to seeing in him. His gaze drifted to your face, catching the redness around your eyes, the remnants of tears. You sighed, dabbing away the traces of mascara that had smudged beneath your eyes.

“I don’t think there’s much to talk about, Rafe.” You shrugged, brushing him off as you tried to compose yourself. “Y/n, please,” he insisted, the desperation in his voice tugging at the edges of your anger. “I swear to god, I was making it crystal clear that I wasn’t interested. I told her, over and over, that I was in a happy situation with you.”

You felt the flicker of an ache under your ribs, a small crack in the wall you’d put up. “Then why, Rafe?” Your voice rose, bitterness spilling over. “Why did she pick you? She wouldn’t have done that out of the blue if she didn’t think there was something real, something genuine, between you two.” Your words struck him, and he took a small step back, almost flinching.

He opened his mouth as if to argue but stopped, as if suddenly unsure. “I don’t know why she chose me,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “But you have to believe me, Y/n. None of this meant anything to me—she doesn’t mean anything to me.” He looked at you, and for a split second, you caught something raw, almost pleading, in his expression.

But the anger and the hurt still clouded your heart. You shook your head, exhaustion coating your words. “I’m just… I’m really tired, Rafe. I just want to go to bed.” You didn’t meet his eyes, the weight of the evening pressing down on you. He paused, the silence stretching painfully between you both. “Right. Good night, then,” he murmured, his voice tinged with a sadness that lingered in the air as he turned and left.

By the time you walked into the bedroom, Sofia was already there, her arms opening for you without a word. You melted into her embrace, the comfort of her support soothing your frazzled nerves. “You’ll be okay,” she whispered, squeezing you tightly before you finally pulled away, giving her a small, grateful smile.

As you made your way to your bed, your gaze involuntarily flickered to Kayla’s. She lay there, already settled in, Rafe’s pillow on the other side, and it made your stomach churn. You slipped into bed, laying in the center, feeling an aching emptiness beside you. Rafe should have been there. His warmth, his steady breathing as you fell asleep, had been a constant.

Then, as if on cue Rafe walked into the room. His eyes skimmed over you for a second before he headed toward Kayla’s bed. The air was thick with unspoken words, unacknowledged feelings, and for a moment, you wanted to reach out, to say something, but you held back, the bitterness fresh in your chest. Rafe leaned over, whispering something to Kayla, though you couldn’t make out the words.

Then, without warning, he grabbed his pillow, stepping away from her bed and heading out of the room. You caught Sofia’s gaze across the dimly lit space, her knowing look meeting your own. She offered a small smile of understanding, and you returned it faintly before letting your eyes drift shut, hoping sleep would bring a break from all the emotions.

next

[nottsangel]

okay this is my first little idea that i’m sending in so don’t judge if it’s bad😭

but like imagine a love island au and you and theo are pared up and he’s touching you in bed and he’s like talking you thru it but at the same time tilling you to be quiet 😫

— love island au moodboard

“theo… we— we can’t” you whisper urgently, hoping not to wake the other islanders as theo’s hand roams over your body, squeezing your tits before slowly travelling to your aching core. you feel unbearably needy, after not having been touched by anyone else or even yourself in weeks since arriving at the villa. yet, it feels so wrong— mattheo is snoring loudly on the bed next to you, his arms wrapped tightly around his girl, and on the other side, you hear the soft, wet sounds of making out on lorenzo’s bed. but getting caught by your fellow islanders isn’t even the worst part— it’s the microphone you’re forced to wear 24/7 that makes you second-guess everything. it feels so… awkward to let everyone at home hear what you’re doing— to let them hear the filthy words theo’s whispering right into your ear.

“shhh, just let me take care of my girl. i know you’ve been craving for my touch, hm?” he teases, fully aware of how touch-deprived you’ve been, evident by all the little touches you’ve given him throughout the past few days, but too hesitant to take it further. you can’t help but feel yourself become wetter and wetter at theo’s touch, as you instinctively spread your legs a litter wider, inviting him in. “that’s a good girl. gonna make you feel so good.” he murmurs right into your ear, faces merely inches away from each other as you have your arms wrapped around his neck, clinging to him while you try to relax.

“tell me what you want.” he demands, his hand cupping your aching cunt and not giving you what you want— no, need, just yet. “i want to feel you, please. need it so bad.” theo chuckles condescendingly, his soft lips attached to your neck as he hungrily sucks on the sensitive skin, marking it with dark hickeys as his body presses intimately close to yours. “you want me to finger you in the same room as the others? while everyone at home can hear your pretty moans? naughty girl.” he taunts, his fingers teasing your clothed pussy, already dripping with arousal as you can only nod eagerly in response, gazing up at him with desperate, pleading eyes.

“please, theo, just— stop with the teasing and make me feel good, please?” you beg desperately, unable to take it any longer as you can feel your pussy throb at his words. he gazes down at you with a mischievous smirk, clearly enjoying how desperate you are for him as he slips his hand into your tight shorts and soaked underwear. “really? it’s this easy to make you wet?” he whispers seductively into your ear, his fingers slick with your arousal as he gently gathers your wetness. “you’re fucking adorable.”

you moan softly at his words, desperation taking over as you place your hand over his, seperated by the thin fabric of your shorts and panties, and push his hand deeper into you. “so desperate, hm? poor thing. let me help you, baby.” he growls, rubbing slow, tantalising circles on your aching clit, causing your lips to part, but no sound escapes. his fingers then wander to your dripping hole, pushing two fingers in at once, causing you to throw your head back at the full feeling. “fuck! theo, just like that!”

he groans at the cute moans slipping from your lips— god, how he wishes it was just you and him here, so he could make you scream his name until your throat hurts. but this is what you’re both dealing with now, and he’ll take whatever he can get. “shhh. you gotta be quiet for me, amore. think you can do that?” you nod obediently, biting down hard on your swollen lip as he starts rhythmically pumping his digits in and out of your soaked hole, and you so desperately hope the others won’t hear the slick, wet sounds coming from your shared bed.

“god, you’re so fucking sexy. do you know how hard it is for me to control myself when you moan right into my ear like this? wish i could take you right here and now, until you cum all over my cock.” his words are only driving you closer to the edge as his fingers curl up so perfectly, rubbing against your sweet spot, making you dig your sharp nails into his arm. “oh my god, right there!” his skilful fingers quicken as his soft lips captures yours in a passionate kiss in an attempt to silence your moans, knowing you’re close to the your release.

his other hand moves towards your tits, squeezing them firmly and toying with your hardened nipples, and that’s when you lose it— your orgasm hits you unexpectedly as you moan right into his mouth and arch your back, all your muscles tensing as your legs tremble uncontrollably. “that’s it, baby. there you go.” theo whispers soothingly, talking you through your orgasm as you slowly come down from your intense high. your chest heaves up and down, heart pounding wildly, when suddenly draco’s stern voice from the other side of the room causes you to flinch, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. “so, are you guys done now? people are trying to sleep.”

ੈ♡˳

[jaylalolz]

hiii omg i think u should do a one shot w nicolas chavez and it should be like a honeymoon one! 🥹🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

WIFE!reader x HUSBAND!nicholas 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

SUMMARY, how nicholas would treat his wife on their honeymoon

A/N, thanks for requesting, anon!! have fun reading

WARNINGS, none??

Nicholas had always been intense— whether on set, in the way he looked at you, or how he touched you-but on your honeymoon, he took it to another level entirely. The moment you arrived at the private villa, nestled on the edge of an untouched beach, Nicholas made sure you knew exactly what his intentions were. He had planned every detail, wanting to spoil you beyond your wildest dreams.

From the moment you stepped into the villa, it felt like a dream. The room was drenched in the soft glow of candlelight, and the sound of the ocean waves crashed gently in the background.

Nicholas had arranged for champagne to be chilling in the corner, and as you entered, he wasted no time pulling you into his arms, his lips grazing your neck in that way that made your skin tingle.

He handed you a glass, his eyes locking with yours as he toasted to forever-his voice low and seductive as he whispered promises of the life you'd build together.

He was different during this time— softer, more intimate. He insisted on pampering you in every way, starting with lazy mornings spent wrapped in silk sheets, where he'd trace the lines of your body as if memorizing every inch of you all over again. The way he'd look at you made it clear you were the only thing that mattered. Breakfasts were delivered to your room-luxurious spreads of fresh fruit, pastries, and champagne, though more often than not, they went untouched as you both got lost in each other instead.

In the afternoons, he would take you out on spontaneous adventures, sailing along the crystal-clear waters or exploring hidden coves where no one else could find you. His hand would always be on the small of your back, guiding you through every experience, whether it was a private wine tasting or a secluded dinner on the beach.

Nicholas would pull your chair close to his, his thumb running circles along your skin, his lips brushing yours between bites of dessert as if he couldn't get enough.

But the nights were when his intensity showed most. He'd draw you a bath filled with rose petals and fragrant oils, dimming the lights until the room felt like a sanctuary. He would sit beside you, his hand lazily tracing the surface of the water, his gaze dark and full of promise as he watched you soak. And when you were ready, he'd lift you from the water like you weighed nothing, wrapping you in a towel before carrying you to bed.

In the dim light of the room, he would take his time with you-slow, unhurried, his touch worshipping every part of you as though he was making up for all the nights you'd ever spent apart.

Nicholas's hands would move over you with a delicate reverence, his voice low as he whispered how beautiful you were, how lucky he was to have you. He wasn't just making love to you-he was claiming you in the most tender way possible, ensuring you felt adored, desired, and cherished.

Throughout the honeymoon, Nicholas was relentless in his devotion, showering you with lavish surprises— jewelry, designer dresses, and even a private concert under the stars where he played your favorite songs, his eyes never leaving yours. He loved to spoil you, but more than anything, he loved seeing your smile, knowing that every bit of happiness you felt was because of him.

And every time he looked at you, it was with the same hunger, the same fire. Because, for Nicholas, the honeymoon was just the beginning. The start of forever, where he could love you like this for the rest of your lives.

[metanoia-haus]

ɪɴsᴛᴀɢʀᴀᴍ@ʜᴇɴᴅᴇʀsᴏɴᴊᴀʏɴᴇ:

[libraryleopard]

Adult gothic thriller inspired by the life of Mary Shelley

Reimagines the Romantic poets as 70s rockstars

Follows a pair of estranged friends who decide to spend the summer at an infamous Italian villa known where an infamous murder occurred in the 70s

Dual timelines unravelling dangerous betrayals from the past and growing tensions in the present

[mrsimpurity]

belonging to old man logan… 

cw: smut (p in v), oral sex (m receiving), cum play, daddy kink, age gap

not as in being a sex slave. you’re free to do whatever you want, of course… you just don’t want to. so all you do is hang around the cozy villa all day (often topless), the one that he bought just for the two of you, away from the city stress, and wait for him to come back from work.

“did you miss me, doll?” logan asks right after he shuts the front door, taking his suit jacket off. you’re throwing yourself at him already, popping the buttons on his dress shirt open. button by button, you start placing chaste kisses on his abs, making your way down to his pants as you sink down on your knees.

“eager today, are we?” logan looks down at you, smiling at the sight of his favorite little thing down on her knees, unzipping his pants with her teeth. 

“mhm.” you mumble, now too busy with taking his cock out of his boxer briefs.

logan was sure that there was no better way to be greeted after a long and tiresome day. his cock was already at half-mast. just looking at you, so obedient and impatient, made him want to take you right then and there. but he’d let you have your fun, for now.

you spit on logan’s cock, taking your hand and smearing your saliva up and down his length. you start by tracing the vein on his cock with your tongue, looking up at him through your eyelashes. then you place kitten licks on the tip of his cock, where you know he’s most sensitive. logan grabs a handful of your hair and forces your mouth away.

“don’t. tease.” he hisses through his teeth. you apologetically place one last kiss on his girth and get to work, taking his entire length into your mouth. his hold on your hair remains, guiding you and increasing the speed as the warmthness of your mouth edges him towards his orgasm. 

after a while, he stops you in your tracks with a tug of your makeshift ponytail. you whine, wondering why he’s suddenly pulling you away. 

“it’s okay, doll. i know you wanna please daddy.” he speaks with a softer tone, pitying your pathetic expression. your eyes are glossy now and you’re pouting up at him. logan can’t help but get even harder. he picks you up by the waist and throws you over his shoulder, kicking the bedroom door open and setting you down on the bed moments later. you immediately know what you’re supposed to do - so you take your t-shirt off in one swift motion, and wiggle your way out of your shorts and panties.

“cmon, ass up, baby. ‘m getting impatient.” logan says, now completely discarding his dress shirt on the floor and doing the same with his pants and boxer briefs. you follow his command, getting on all fours on the bed. logan grabs the globes of your ass, kneading the fat lovingly. his fingers go to tease at your folds, rubbing up and down to find you soaking wet already. 

“my girl’s always ready for me.” logan points out with a rub to your clit. your ears perk up at the praise and a small smile appears on your face as you wiggle your ass in the air, urging him to hurry up. he chuckles as he grabs his girth, giving it a few strokes before he eases his tip inside you, slowly sinking himself in your pussy. you’re always such a tight fit, like he’s fucking you for the first time, logan thinks to himself. with him getting older, it’s harder to keep up with your needs and impossibly high sex drive, but he tries to make it up to you on most nights, when he’s not too tired.

his thrusts start out slow, as they always do. he goes easy on you when he first enters you because he’s sure the sheer size of his cock is a tad bit painful for you. logan grabs a hold of your hips, picking up the pace as the sounds of his cock thrusting in you fill the room. his balls slap against your ass, your tits jiggling as logan pulls out and slams his cock in your pussy again and again. you moan and pant, back arching as your elbows soon give out from the vigor with which his hips roll against you. you fall face down on the pillows and your hand scrambles as you reach behind your back with a desperate whine. logan gets the hint and intertwines his fingers with yours as your velvety walls clench around him. 

“i’m close.” you moan out, squeezing him harder, chasing that blissful moment of ecstasy. his thrusts don’t falter as his cock hits your g-spot repeatedly, making you whine out in pleasure. 

“i know, doll. i can feel you.”

with a final thrust, you feel yourself cumming around logan’s cock, your pussy pulsating. the feeling of you clenching around him makes his thrusts get sloppier as his own orgasm approaches. 

“you’re so good to me, baby.” logan says, grunting as he empties himself inside you, his warm cum filling your hole. the two of you stay like that for a moment, savoring the irreplaceable feeling of postcoital warmth. he pulls out after a while, his seed dripping out of your cunt. the sight is awfully erotic and you turn around at the feeling, only to see logan put his fingers inside you again. his digits, now covered in not only his cum, but yours, reach for your face. you don’t have to hear him say it to know what he wants. you open your mouth, allowing him to put his fingers inside. your tongue swirls around logan’s fingers, and you suck teasingly as he finally takes them out of your mouth with a “pop”, instead grabbing your face adoringly, rubbing soft circles on your cheekbone as a smile lights up your face.

“we taste really good.” you speak, now turning around to fully face him, knees still on the bed, as his frame towers above you. 

logan grabs your nape and lowers his head down to meet your lips in a sloppy kiss, tongue entering your mouth and completely captivating you. it’s messy, it’s addicting, it’s everything, the feeling and taste of his cum and saliva filling your mouth.

“you’re right, doll.” logan murmurs against your lips, breaking the kiss as a string of drool connects the two of you. 

and in that moment, as he stares into your eyes, slowly caressing the back of your head, logan and you share a thought - “i don’t mind spending the rest of my days like this.”

[00valentina-writes00]

ambessa with wife reader who’s biggest opps are her parents… especially her mom.

♡♥︎Ambessa vs. Your Mother♥︎♡

♥︎ Ambessa knew from the moment you told her about your strained relationship with your parents that she wasn’t going to like them. She’s never been the type to tolerate people who hurt the ones she loves—least of all you.

♥︎ When she finally meets your mother, it takes everything in her not to let her displeasure show outright. Ambessa is a master of strategy, and if there’s one thing she won’t do, it’s let an opponent see her cards too soon.

♥︎ Your mother, on the other hand, takes one look at Ambessa and decides she’s too arrogant, too powerful, too intense. She doesn’t approve of your relationship (not that Ambessa cares), and she makes no effort to hide it.

♥︎ You can always tell when Ambessa’s resisting the urge to speak her mind. There’s a certain set to her jaw, a slight narrowing of her eyes when your mother makes a passive-aggressive comment about your life choices.

♥︎ “A woman of your status must be so busy. I’m sure it’s difficult to make time for a real marriage,” your mother muses over dinner, sipping her wine. You feel Ambessa’s hand tighten ever so slightly on the table before she smiles—sharp, dangerous. “I make time for what’s important. You must know how that feels, yes?”

♥︎ If your mother ever criticizes you—your decisions, your career, your existence—Ambessa is shutting that down immediately. “You will not speak to my wife like that,” she states, voice calm but final. And when Ambessa Medarda says something with finality, there is no arguing.

♥︎ She absolutely refers to your mother as her greatest enemy. Not in a dramatic, emotional way—just a simple, casual, “Ah, yes, my greatest opponent,” whenever she brings her up.

♥︎ The tension is palpable whenever they’re in the same room. You can practically feel the invisible battlefield between them, both standing their ground like generals before war.

♥︎ Ambessa refuses to let your mother manipulate you with guilt. If she ever notices you falling into old patterns—apologizing when you shouldn’t, doubting yourself—she steps in. “You owe her nothing.” The way she says it, firm and unwavering, makes it hard not to believe her.

♥︎ If your mother ever tries to criticize Ambessa to you, she will find out very quickly that you’re not interested in entertaining that conversation. “If you have a problem with my wife, take it up with her.” (Spoiler: she never does.)

♥︎ Ambessa, with all her power, influence, and sheer presence, is petty in the most elegant way. If your mother ever buys you a gift meant to be a subtle dig (like a book on “proper etiquette” or something equally condescending), Ambessa one-ups her by buying you something extravagant. “Ah, yes, an etiquette guide. Well, I got you a villa in Noxus. Use whichever you prefer.”

♥︎ The first time your mother really underestimates Ambessa, she tries to intimidate her. She speaks in that condescending, self-righteous tone, expecting to unnerve her. Ambessa simply leans back, watching her with a slow, knowing smirk, and says, “I have led armies. Do you think your words will move me?”

♥︎ Your mother despises that Ambessa calls you “my love” in public and in private, her voice dripping with possessive adoration. She especially hates that you always soften under Ambessa’s touch, no matter how tense your mother tries to make you.

♥︎ If your mother ever tries to push you into family obligations that you clearly don’t want to take part in, Ambessa has no problem stepping in. “She will not be attending.” And just like that, the decision is made.

♥︎ Ambessa is terrifyingly good at subtle power plays. Your mother will try to make a sharp remark, and Ambessa will respond with the most cuttingly polite reply, all while watching her like a predator studying prey.

♥︎ You know she’d go to war for you if it came down to it. One time, after an especially rough encounter with your mother, Ambessa muttered, “It is fortunate that I value your happiness more than my pride.” You knew, without a doubt, that she had been holding back.

♥︎ Ambessa does not believe in winning battles through screaming matches—no, no. Her victories are silent, effortless. When your mother scoffs that she’s “not what we expected for our daughter,” Ambessa simply replies, “No, I imagine you expected someone weaker.”

♥︎ The only reason Ambessa hasn’t officially declared war on your mother is because she respects that it’s your relationship to navigate. She knows you don’t need saving—but she is always there, standing beside you, ready if you ever call on her.

♥︎ Despite it all, Ambessa never forbids you from seeing your family. She knows it’s your choice. But she does make one thing clear: “If they hurt you, I will remind them why I am feared.”

♥︎ At the end of the day, when it’s just the two of you, away from the battlefield of family tension, she holds you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You are mine,” she murmurs against your skin, voice softer than it ever is with anyone else. “And that is all that matters.”