#she's the only woman strong enough. to shoulder it all. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oofthwoods · 3 months

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DEBUTANTE! ── ˙ ̟ the echo !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: derived from the french language, meaning “a first performance or showing.” the original word debutante referred to a new actress making her first appearance on the stage. or, the one where dreams come true in bahrain.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: just a little bonus, but i picture jasper as kingsley ben-adir (secret invasion, barbie). if this is the first work of mine you're checking, reader is a driver for porsche and the daughter of rubens barrichello!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: 5.5k

NO ONE ASKED HER A QUESTION IN FORTY-FIVE MINUTES.

Naturally, there were many questions about her. How did the drivers feel about a woman joining their ranks on the track? What were their thoughts on the growing number of female fans who were tuning in to watch Formula One, possibly due to the popularity of the documentary Drive to Survive or the historic moment of having the first female driver in decades?

She wasn't sure if this was better or worse than she anticipated. She vividly recalled her first press conference last year when she was still driving for ART Grand Prix. They asked her ridiculous questions like whether it was professional to wear skirts in the paddock (yes), who the most attractive driver was (herself, obviously), and even if her father was disappointed that she reached a milestone in motorsport before her older brother (Dudu, who raced with their father in Brazilian Stock Series. And no, he had already made it clear he was proud of both of them).

In the first few minutes, she assumed it was because she was a rookie. But then Oscar Piastri answered a fair share of questions while looking at her as if he didn't understand why people were treating her like an invisible presence. She would shrug her shoulders and the australian reluctantly answered reporters' inquiries.

She was sandwiched between Lewis, who seemed impatient as time dragged on without any questions directed towards her, and Max Verstappen, who quickly responded to his own questions and showed his eagerness to leave. Two rookies, two world champions, but only three drivers deemed important enough for interviews.

The world-renowned champion's frustration peaked when asked about his recent vacation activities.

"Is this a joke?" he asked. "Do you really want to know what I did on my vacation more than asking her interesting questions?" He gestured towards the girl beside him.

"It's alright, Lewis-"

"With all due respect, Hamilton," one of the reporters interjected with a sarcastic smirk on his face. "I can't imagine what kind of questions we could ask Miss Barrichello besides her makeup preferences or favorite clothing brands."

"How about the fact that I won four championships in a row as a rookie?" She responded with a fake sweet smile plastered on her face. She could accept to be ignored, but she refused to be underestimated. "Or maybe any questions about Porsche joining the grid this year?"

"I don't think winning a championship by such a small margin of points is anything to be praised." The reporter retorted. His expression implied that he wasn't expecting the young girl to comfort him, but he couldn't hold back.

"Really? So we should just say that the battle between Max and Lewis in 2021-" she indicated towards them "-was nothing worth celebrating? Such an uneventful year for this sport."

Verstappen leaned forward, observing the interaction between the girl and the reporter. This press conference just became much more interesting.

"Strong words from someone who has never stepped foot in a race car." He chimed in, agreeing with the youngest person in the room.

"That's not what I meant." The reporter stuttered, noticing the security chief slowly approaching him. The middle-aged man was one of many security guards in the paddock that had known the driver since she was a child, and she knew that one look in his direction and the man would be escorted out.

"Of course, of course," she replied sarcastically. "You mean it's not worth celebrating because a woman won, right? Please, if you're going to insult me, at least try to make it believable. Or better yet, don't speak if you have no idea what you're talking about"

The tension in the room was palpable as another reporter spoke up, "But Y/n, let's be real here. The races were mostly dominated by your teammate, Frederik Vesti or runner-up Felipe Drugovich. Your victories were purely tactical."

She leaned back in her chair with a smug smile playing on her lips. "Is that so? Yet somehow I managed to come out on top every time."

Verstappen nodded in agreement, "She's definitely got a point there."

The press room fell into an intense quiet, causing y/n to regret her decision to do this interview. She knew that this type of situation would become more common as her fame grew in the coming year. She also understood that Lewis would be praised for defending her while she would face criticism for simply standing up for herself against a man who was only doing his job.

The silence was broken by a female journalist in the back, hidden behind the larger, more muscular bodies of her male counterparts. But y/n could never mistake that blonde hair for anyone else. Mariana Becker was a veteran sports reporter, an icon in Brazilian journalism, and a role model for any woman breaking into a male-dominated field.

“I wish I had raised my hand earlier; I didn't realize it would take so long for someone to ask you a question,” she chuckled. "I don't think anyone will object to two questions, right?" The woman looked around the room, and the other interviewers avoided making eye contact with the veteran.

"So, y/n, you've been asked countless times about being a woman in a male-dominated world and the difficulties you face because of it. However, with such a successful junior career full of records, I honestly don't see the need to ask that question again. Instead, I'd like to focus on the positive aspects. What does it mean to you knowing that a new generation of girls can look up to you as an inspiration and be motivated to pursue their dreams?"

The girl's face lit up with gratefulness for the refreshing question and relief that she wouldn't have to answer the same question she had already answered countless times before.

"It's incredibly inspiring for me as well. Growing up in this environment, surrounded by racing cars, I was also discouraged from pursuing this career. But I can only imagine how much more difficult it must have been for young girls who were ridiculed just for dreaming of driving a go-kart. To know that I can play a role in encouraging them to follow their dreams without fear of judgment is truly exciting."

Lewis subtly raised his thumb in a gesture of approval while she chuckled.

"Excellent," said the reporter with a smile. "One more question, how did your father react when you told him you were entering the world of Formula 1?"

"He cried," y/n answered quickly, eliciting laughter from those in the room. "He's quite the crybaby, so I waited until we were together to share the news of my contract with Porsche. At first, he cried tears of joy, then fear, and eventually a mixture of both. That's when he realized that all three of his children were following in his footsteps as race car drivers and that he'd have to pay for everything he put his own father through."

The reporter chuckled along with y/n. Mari had interviewed Rubens back when he was in Formula 1, and remembers clearly how emotional the man always was. The conference went on like this for another half an hour, with y/n answering everything from her expectations for the upcoming season to her favorite tracks and how she dealt with pressure.

The balaclava, damp with sweat, clung tightly to her face as she stood at attention. Her race engineer, a tall black man with a buzzcut and a calm expression, waited patiently beside her. She smoothed down the folds of her crisp, red-and-black uniform, adorned with her country's flag on the sleeve.

"How was the conference?" Jasper asked.

The girl muttered something that Jasper couldn't make out. "That bad? Did they bring up the issue with wearing skirts in the paddock again?"

"They didn't ask anything at first, but then one guy made a comment about me winning the championship by a narrow margin of points not being worthy of praise. Except it wasn't even a narrow margin; Felipe finished about sixty points behind me., and Fred was more than a hundred points behind, despite driving the same car as me" She complained.

Jasper winced. The relationship between the engineer and the driver had been amazing during pre-season tests with the man acting like a friend and a mentor, and they had found a groove to envy.

"You'll need to come up with a strategy for dealing with these reporters," Jasper advised.

"I already have one."

"Really?" He glanced at the clock on the track and realized that time was running out. He handed her the helmet with both hands. She grinned and smoothly put it on. The colors of her country's flag stood out against the black and red of the car, making it impossible to miss.

"Yes. WWJD."

"What does that stand for?"

"What Would Jenson Do. Originally, it was "What Would Kimi Do," but I quickly realized that Kimi would just tell everyone to go fuck themselves, and I can't exactly do that yet."

The garage was a whirlwind of activity, with mechanics frantically making last-minute adjustments and drivers strapping into their cars. The scent of gasoline and burning rubber wafted through the air, adding to the excitement and tension that crackled in the atmosphere.

Everywhere she looked, there were people moving with purpose, each one focused on their individual tasks to ensure a successful first qualifying session of the season. The roar of engines being revved and tools clanging against metal filled her ears, drowning out any other sound. It was a chaotic but exhilarating scene as the countdown to the race began.

"Why not "What Would Rubens Do"?" He asked.

She chuckled. "My dad is too nice. In his only fight in his entire Formula 1 career, he told the mechanic who wanted to fight him to get someone else because he was too small."

Jasper's phone buzzed insistently, jolting him out of his thoughts and reminding him that only five minutes remained until the start of Q1. After the last few adjustments from the mechanics, y/n managed to squeeze into her car and secure her seatbelt. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might leap out of her chest, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through her body as she prepared for the intense competition ahead.

Jasper rested his arms on the halo. "Don't forget what we discussed earlier," he reminded her. "In Q1, six cars will be eliminated, followed by six more in Q2. This means that the top ten fastest cars will battle for pole position. Based on our data, we are definitely faster than Alpha Tauri, Alfa Romeo, Haas, and Williams - a total of eight cars."

The girl nodded eagerly, her eyes glued to the man as he continued. "At the very least, you and Mick should be able to make it into Q2. We're not sure how Alpine and McLaren are doing, but they don't seem to be as quick as us." He gestured towards the track outside where the other teams were busy with their own preparations. "But we can't let our guard down. Anything can happen during quali." The tension was palpable as they both waited for their turn on the track.

"So, we're trying for Q3 then?" She inquired, her voice filled with a mix of curiosity and determination.

"Officially, I was instructed to tell you that Q2 is sufficient, but we can't know our full potential until we're on the track."

A sly grin appeared on her face, hidden behind her helmet. She pushed down her visor, ready to give it her all. "Well, I say let's aim for Q3 then. I want to see what this car can really do."

A gentle laugh escaped Jasper's lips, his eyes shining with admiration. "That's the spirit, echo. Show them what you're made of."

With one final nod, y/n shifted her focus, tuning out the noise and commotion of the pit lane. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, using all her senses to ground herself in the present moment. The smell of burning rubber and gasoline filled her nostrils as she visualized the track ahead. The deafening roar of the engine drowned out all other sounds, sending shivers down her spine.

Jasper's voice crackled through the radio in her ear, sounding like a distant robot. "Radio check," he said, his tone serious and business-like.

She adjusted gloves as she responded, "I hear you loud and clear." Her hands were tightly gripped on the steering wheel as she followed Logan Sargeant's Williams out of the pit lane. It was a tight squeeze with the Porsche garage being the newest addition to the grid. She bit her lip, hoping that their placement in the pit lane wouldn't cause any trouble in the future.

"Great. Warm up your tires and then do a flying lap. We want to get a better idea of our potential and avoid any possible disruptions from a Red Flag," Jasper instructed.

"Roger that," she replied, trying to keep her breathing steady as cars started to move around her. She prayed that the onboard camera wouldn't catch her trembling hands as she prepared for her first real lap on the track.

The engine roared to life as she pressed down on the accelerator, gripping the steering wheel with determination. The car surged forward, its tires screeching against the asphalt, leaving a trail of smoke behind. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, heightening her senses as she focused on the task at hand.

The wind whipped through, carrying with it a symphony of sounds—engines revving, tires squealing, and the distant cheers of the crowd. Her heart pounded in sync with the rhythm of the track, each beat pulsating through her chest.

As the cars whizzed by, she made a conscious effort to stay out of their way while completing her out lap. It was her first Grand Prix, and she wasn't about to receive an impeding penalty. She could feel the engine roaring to life and her car responding with precision, its tires getting ready to set a time that would hopefully secure her from elimination in the initial round.

Jasper's voice crackled through the radio once again. "Alright, you're good to go. Try your best," he encouraged, his voice filled with unwavering support.

"Copy." She smirked.

The pre-tests and free practice had prepared her for what was to come, but nothing could have truly prepared her for the exhilaration of sitting behind the wheel of a Formula 1 car. The engine purred like a fierce beast, ready to unleash its power at any moment. The sleek body of the car hugged the track, cutting through the air with precision and grace.

As she approached the first turn, she braked hard, shifting her weight to navigate the corner with precision. The G-forces pressed against her body, threatening to tear her away from reality. But she held firm, refusing to let anything distract her from the objective ahead.

She feathered the throttle, feeling the car respond to her slightest movements. The tires gripped the track, providing a sense of stability as she accelerated out of the turn, leaving her the other car trailing behind. Y/n's focus was unwavering, her eyes fixated on the next set of corners, mentally calculating her approach.

The flying lap was over in an instant, and the sound of the cheering crowd filled her ears as she crossed the finish line and set her initial time.

"Way to go, girl!" Jasper's voice crackled through the radio. "You've got P8, I repeat, P8. We're safely into Q2, but stay on track just in case. Prepare for another quick lap."

"How did Mick do?" she asked eagerly.

"P10, 0.78 seconds behind you," Jasper's voice was filled with pride as he responded. Despite his efforts to maintain professionalism, they were both rookies in the Formula 1 world, even if in different roles. "I got a great feeling about us, Barrichello. This could be the beginning of something legendary."

The minutes seemed to stretch into hours as she waited for the race to begin and she started to feel claustrophobic inside her cramped driver's room.

Finally, unable to bear the suffocating atmosphere any longer, she stepped outside into the bustling garage. The sight of her team, clad in matching uniforms and working tirelessly on their cars, brought a small smile to her face. As she made her way through the maze of mechanics and equipment, she was greeted with reassuring smiles and words of encouragement.

This was not just her first race, but also the team's inaugural race. In a way, they were all rookies, feeling the pressure and nerves just as she was.

Standing outside, it was clear that several eyes were on her. Some, like the veteran Ferrari mechanics who had known her since she was a little girl, flashed comforting smiles and gave her thumbs up, wishing her the best of luck. Others raised their eyebrows with skepticism, as if they believed her presence on the grid was some sort of elaborate prank that hadn't been revealed yet.

Amidst a sea of red and black uniforms, the bright green outfit of the two-time world champion stood out prominently. Fernando paid no mind to the curious glances from his mechanics as he made his way confidently towards the girl.

"You're not allowed in here, Alonso." She teased, playfully crossing her arms in a gesture that made her seem much older than she was.

"Is that how it is now? You qualify in the Top 10 in your first race and all of a sudden I'm just Alonso, not Nando?" He responded with a chuckle. Clutching his heart dramatically, he leaned back as if struck by sudden agony. "What happened to all our pizza days? They meant nothing to you?"

The character she was playing no longer felt right to her, and the words she spoke didn't align with the expression on her face. She fought to suppress a smile as she continued, "That person you knew, Alonso? She is gone now."

As the man approached, she couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity wash over her. His dark hair and intense brown eyes were etched into her memory, but it was his infectious smile that brought back a flood of childhood memories.

Fernando rested his hands on her shoulders and held onto his helmet, which puzzled her. With only a few minutes left before the race began, he could have easily stored it in his own garage rather than carrying it around. But she pushed those thoughts aside as his gaze softened and he spoke.

"You were the size of a flea when I met you," he said with a chuckle. She smiled at the memory of their first encounter. She had been just six years old at the time, tagging along with her father to one of his races. She remembered being mesmerized by the speed and energy of the cars on the track, but also feeling a little intimidated by the loud noises and bustling crowds.

But then she saw him – Alonso – standing tall and proud in his racesuit. He had noticed her watching him from behind the fence and had flashed her a tight smile. Somehow, from that one interaction, she had become a fan. From then on, whenever she visited the track with her father, she would always seek out Fernando.

Initially, the Spaniard couldn't comprehend why the young girl found him so intriguing. He knew he was talented and quick on the race track, but children were not his forte. Alonso would often try to distance himself from the girl, offering only friendly waves and smiles. However, when she presented him with a drawing of himself on the podium with a trophy (which he still keeps today), everything changed.

"You used to avoid me like the plague," she recalled.

"That's not entirely true," Fernando denied, but quickly changed his tune when the girl raised an eyebrow. "Okay, maybe I wasn't too fond of being followed around by a little girl. Can you blame me? If anything happened to you, I would have to deal with your father, Michael, Kimi, and all the mechanics that you had wrapped around your finger."

He became somewhat of figure between an older brother and a father figure to her, always ready with words of encouragement and advice.

Now here they were, both grown up and about to race against each other for the very first time.

"I can't believe we're finally racing against each other," she said with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

"It's about time," Fernando replied with a smirk. "I've been waiting for this moment since you beat me in go-karts."

A smile tugged at her lips as she recalled the moment. During one of his trips with her family to cheer her on during her junior career, they decided to have some fun and race go-karts. She had managed to beat him by mere thousandths of a second, and she made sure to remind him of it constantly afterwards.

"What's on the agenda for today, Mija?" He asked, looking around at the girl's garage.

"Hah, like I would share that with you. I love you, Nando, but now we're competitors." She narrowed her eyes playfully. "You're just trying to take advantage because we're close."

"You got me." He chuckled, knowing it wasn't entirely true.

She sighed and crossed her arms with a hesitant expression. "Rule number one is to not crash into Mick. Number two is to avoid crashing into anyone else. Our team isn't expecting a stellar performance, so if we can maintain our starting positions, both cars will score points. That's our main goal."

"Oh, come on. Don't you want to try overtaking someone?" he prodded.

Y/N laughed. "Why? You want to see me in your rearview mirror?"

"Of course I do," he admitted. "Competing for a win with you would be incredible."

He pushed his helmet towards the girl, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Confused, she tilted her head in question. “I appreciate the gift, but I think you’ll need it today.”

Fernando laughed, memories flooding back to him. “Remember when your dad retired and you started coming to races with me?”

The memories flooded back, of her father's days in the high-stakes world of Formula 1. Though he had since retired, Fernando still managed to convince Rubens to allow her to travel with him to races closer to her home, and sometimes even to the grand prix in his homeland.

She quickly caught on to his request and playfully darted away from him before snagging the helmet. It had become a tradition since she was ten years old, and Fernando had unofficially taken on the role of her godfather. She used to do this same routine with her own father, so it felt natural to continue with the spaniard. He stood there, slightly perplexed, wondering if he had said or done something wrong. But just moments later, the young girl returned with her own helmet in hand.

"Wouldn't it be fair for you to do the same for me this time?" she asked playfully.

The two exchanged helmets and planted a kiss on the part of the helmet that would soon cover each other's foreheads.

"Stay safe, Nando"

"You too. Give us hell"

"It's an easy overtake for Barrichello in the Porsche, and she takes the position from Lance Stroll in the Aston Martin!" David Croft's voice rings across the circuit, and the crowd roars, the flags from her country and Germany flying around.

"Great job!" The voice of her race engineer appears in her ear, breaking through her intense concentration. "Russell is 1.2 ahead, close the gap to be able to use DRS when it is enabled."

"Copy" she nods, instinctively, her eyes never leaving the track ahead. She knows what she needs to do, and she pushes her car to its limits, weaving through the curves and straights with precision and skill.

As she closes the gap between her and the british driver, she can feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She's in her element, in the midst of the intense competition that she lives for.

"0.7. Go for it, elbows out" Jasper said again.

The cheers of the pit crew resounded in her ears as she used the extra boost to overtake the Mercedes. It was a challenge to defend against George's attempts at whiplash and reclaim her position, but once they were off the main straight, she managed to create a considerable gap between them.

The rest of the race flew by in a blur. The girl lost track of her position, constantly overtaking some cars only to be overtaken shortly after. However, Jasper's encouraging words kept her going.

Jasper's voice crackled through the radio as she approached the final stretch of the race. "Virtual safety car, slow down," he instructed.

She quickly checked her rearview mirror, looking for her teammate. "Is it ours?" she asked.

"No, it's Leclerc in the Ferrari," Jasper replied, "which puts us in fifth place."

She could see Hamilton was more than five seconds behind, and the yellow flag meant that Alonso was slowing down ahead of her.

"As soon as the VSC is lifted, you'll have a clear shot to overtake," Jasper added.

Who would have thought that she would be right on Fernando's heels after all?

After a few laps of caution due to the previous incident, the green flags were waved and she wasted no time in accelerating towards the Aston Martin driven by the Spaniard. She steadily closed the gap between them until she was right behind him. However, just as she was about to make a move to pass him, he outmaneuvered Carlos Sainz's Ferrari.

In a swift and calculated maneuver, she positioned her car on the inside of Sainz, who seemed too focused on reclaiming his position to check his mirrors. Taking advantage of his momentary lapse of attention, she quickly overtook him.

Jasper's voice was filled with excitement as he shouted, "That's it, echo! What a fantastic move!" She could almost hear the smile in his tone. "Alonso is already ten seconds ahead, so concentrate on defending now."

The final laps seemed like a blur, the girl steadily increasing the gap between her and the Ferrari with each lap.

"It's a flawless performance from Porsche, with both cars scoring points on this historic day. Mick Schumacher equals his best career finish with an incredible P6, and Y/N Barrichello takes fourth place, becoming the first woman to score in a Formula 1 race since Lella Lombardi and achieving the highest position for a woman in history!"

The sound of the bustling cheers from the Porsche garage fills her ears as she struggled to park the car with trembling hands. “Unbelievable! P4, y/n, P4! We scored 21 points and Mick got the fastest lap. What a start,” Jasper exclaims over the radio.

She stepped out of the car on shaky legs and is immediately greeted by Carlos, who had parked his car behind hers. “Where did you come from?” he asked with a chuckle. “I was trying to overtake Fernando, and suddenly you were right beside me.”

She took off her helmet and balaclava, her hair damp with sweat and sticking to her forehead and neck. She culdn't help but laugh. "Next time, check your mirrors," She teases her good-naturedly.

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she was suddenly enveloped in a warm embrace. The sweat that coated both of them didn't matter, nor did the fact that she still needed to weigh herself. She squeezed Mick even tighter and they both seemed too overjoyed to let go.

He took a step back but kept his arms around her. "Fourth place in your first race! I told you not to worry," the German exclaimed proudly.

"And look who's talking with the fastest lap!" She laughed in agreement. "We did it, Mick. We fucking did it."

A bottle of water suddenly appeared in her line of sight, and she turned to thank the person who handed it to her. To her surprise, it was Lewis with a smile on his face.

"If you had just overtaken one more person, you would have joined the club," he joked, pointing to Kevin Magnussem, who appeared to be deep in conversation with his teammate. "It was quite a race for the two of you."

"Honestly, I wasn't expecting to end up anywhere higher than where I started, so P4 is already a great achievement," she replied with a laugh as she took the cold bottle from him. The girl then turned to Lewis again and asked about his own race.

"P7. Mick managed to pass me on the last lap," he responded, glancing over at the young driver who chuckled in response.

The adrenaline was still pumping through her veins as y/n made her way to the weighing machines. She couldn't believe it, a P4 finish on her debut race. It seemed like a dream come true.

She stepped onto the scales, trying to calm her racing heart. The number flashed on the screen, and she let out a sigh of relief. "Phew, just made it," she muttered to herself.

Grabbing a towel to wipe off the sweat from her face, she quickly discarded her race suit at her hips, and made her way to her garage in her white fireproofs.

To an outsider, it might have seemed like the team had just won a world championship, not a P6 and P4. People were clapping her on the back and embracing Mick, and she struggled to decipher the various voices exclaiming with joy.

Jasper appeared in front of her with a bottle of champagne in hand. "Congratulations y/n, you did amazing out there!" he exclaimed before popping open the bottle and spraying champagne everywhere.

She laughed as some of the bubbly liquid hit her skin. "Thanks Jasper! I couldn't have done it without your perfect strategy. Great call with the tyres"

He grinned at her before turning serious. "But seriously y/n, you did a great job out there. We're all so proud of you." The rest of the team joined them in cheers and congratulations.

Before they could continue their conversation, Adrian, the team principle, arrived at their garage looking ecstatic. "Great job everyone! A double-points finish for our debut race, this is just the beginning." He raised his glass of champagne before taking a sip.

Y/n looked around and couldn't help but feel proud of her team. They had come a long way since their first tests together. And now here they were, competing in one of the most prestigious racing championships in the world.

Adrian turned to her with a smile. "Y/n, I must say you exceeded all expectations today. You have proven yourself as a valuable addition to our team." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Keep up the good work."

She couldn't help but blush at his words and nod gratefully. This was everything she had ever dreamed of - to be part of a successful racing team and make her mark in the sport.

As the celebrations continued, y/n couldn't help but think about how far she had come. From fighting for sponsorships to competing against some of the best drivers in the world, it felt like a dream come true.

But amidst all the excitement and joy, there was still one thing weighing on her mind - her family. She missed them terribly and wished they could be here to witness her success.

Just then, her phone buzzed.

"Muito orgulhoso de você filhota. Eu sabia que você ia arrasar! Me liga quando acabar tudo aí" — PAPAI. (so so proud of you, baby. i knew you would rock it! call me once you're done with everything there.)

Soon after, her older brother's name appeard on her phone as well. A quick congrats was followed by a video. Tapping on it, she couldn't contain the tears as she watched her father by the TV, holding tightly their flag and exploding in joy as the checkered flag was waved and his daughter finished in fourth.

He erupted with happiness, leaping and embracing her siblings and close friends who had gathered to witness her debut. He would excitedly point towards the television, shouting with pride, "There she is! My little girl!"

A big smile crept onto her face as she quickly replied back with an update on how things were, and a promise to video call her family as soon as she was cleared from the media.

"Time for the boring stuff now. Ready for the interviews?" Mick pulled her out of her thoughts. He had his phone on his hand, and she imagined he was also communicating with his family. "I can go first, if you want."

She took a deep breath, and smiled. "It's okay, i'll go. There's nothing they can say that could ruin my day. Not anymore."

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed <3) :: @studioreader, @fanficweasley, @stinkyjax, @namgification, @judespoision, @cha-hot, @disneyprincemuke, @itsjustkhaos, @trouble-sistar, @ihateyougunthersteiner, @treehouse-mouse, @cherry-piee, @fangirl125reader, @cassie0sstuff

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ellastone-olsen · 5 months

Text

Fucked my way up to the top - Wanda Maximoff

DO NOT COPY ANY OF MY WORKS. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY

Summary: You just got your first job in your life and suspiciously quickly became an assistant to the director of the company. Where's the catch?

Pairing: ceo!Wanda Maximoff × f!reader

Warnings: NSFW, dom!Wanda, sub!reader, age gap (W34 R21), mommy kink, strap on usage (W), blow job (R), pet names

DISCLAIMER: ENGLISH ISN'T MY FIRST LANGUAGE SORRY FOR GRAMMAR OR SPELLING MISTAKES

Word count: 1.2k

AN: inspired by lana del rey i really love that song

You just graduated from a college you didn't even want to go to. Wrong college, wrong specialty, but as a result, very much the right job. After one day you began to believe in fate and that this entire chain of events in your life was a blessing from above. After all if it weren’t for the strong nature of your parents who sent you to study, you would never have met Wanda.

At some point, you thought that you would never find a job in your specialty until you saw the ideal vacancy: the salary, the location of the office, the schedule, the educational requirements, everything suited you. There definitely had to be a catch somewhere. And it definitely was.

“No, put it in its place, I don’t need these papers and coffee right now. I have a meeting Y/N, why answer me i need coffee? Just think for once with your pretty little head.” That catch was your boss, Wanda Maximoff. That's what you thought at first.

You trotted behind her on the way to the conference room; in general, the very fact that the director of the company took you on as her personal assistant was already a great success. Some worked in one place for years and remained as an office clerk. And then Wanda Maximoff took you to bring her coffee, not the hardest job, especially for the money that you were paid.

When you entered the room, the hall was empty. One characteristic feature of your boss was excessive punctuality, you realized this in your first week of work. You took your place at the head of the table next to her when you felt manicured hands rest on your shoulders, stroking them. That was the second thing about Wanda Maximoff, she loved to touch you, a lot. Sometimes she would tuck a stray strand behind your ear, sometimes she would stroke your thigh; in general, such touches from her were nothing new. If you said you didn't enjoy it, you'd be lying. Wet dreams with her began to visit you in the third week of work.

And now, from her touch, you could feel your core throbbing. To your great regret, at that moment the conference room began to fill with people. As important and powerful as Wanda. To be honest, you didn’t understand that such a small employee like you was even doing here.

The meeting lasted about an hour and during this time you could feel with your whole being how tense your boss was. Everything was definitely not going the way she wanted; one of the men opposite was already starting to scream, unable to prove that he was right. The deal was on the verge of failure. “Okay gentlemen, I think that’s enough for today. We’ll continue tomorrow.” Wanda could not stand it and marked the end of this meeting.

When the hall was empty, the woman sat down in a chair with her legs spread, a sigh escaped her lips and one hand again lay on your thigh, squeezing it. "Fucking bastards." She muttered and your gaze caught the older woman's pants. She wore an expensive formal suit with a bulge imprinted on the trousers. Your eyes widened, your breath caught in your throat as you wondered what her purpose was..."See something you like?" You jumped at the question, scared that you had been caught. One of Wanda's hands strokes your thigh, moving up closer to your already dripping pussy while the other massages her fake cock through the fabric of her pants. You look at her expressionless face and nod in response to the question.

"On your knees". The chair moves back with a creak, giving you space. You stand in front of her to look into her eyes, darkened with lust, for a second and fall to your knees. Hands immediately reach for her trousers, sorting out the belt and pulling them off along with her underwear. A red strap jumps out in front of your face and you start to get nervous about the size. “I don’t think it will fit..”. You are interrupted by a grip in your hair. "Don't worry baby girl I'll make it fit now suck my cock."

She guides your head towards her length and you curl your tongue around the tip as if she can feel it. You raise your eyes and look at her, and then shut your mouth on her dick, feeling tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. Her palm cups your cheek and her thumb wipes away drops of moisture, “Oh my sweet girl wants to please her mommy so bad.” She helps you by guiding your head up and down her length, your panties are hopelessly ruined and you squirm, looking for some kind of relief. Wanda lifts her hips so that your nose touches her stomach and holds you like that for a few seconds. When your boss lets you go, your makeup is hopelessly ruined and you gasp for air.

"Such a good sweet girl. Do you want mommy to put her dick inside you? Do you want me to stretch you out and fuck you until you forget your name?" You are still kneeling in front of her and a pathetic whine comes out of your mouth, “Please mommy I really need you to fuck me.” Wanda likes your answer and growls, she pulls you to your feet and then bends you over the large office desk. Your cheek is pressed against the cold surface, the older woman has already hiked up your skirt to your waist and is stroking your throbbing pussy through the fabric of your cotton panties.“My, my, you’re already absolutely wet and I haven’t touched you yet. Do you like sucking mommy’s cock so much? Maybe next time should I fuck this beautiful, capable mouth mmm?" A sharp slap on your ass makes you gasp. "Yes yes please I will like it so much.”

Your underwear falls to your ankles and the tip of her cock teases your throbbing clit and then runs through the folds, collecting your arousal. Without warning, she fills you to the edge and started to pound at a slower pace than you would like. You gasp from the stretch "Mommy it's too big. Feel so full." Her pace increases, her hand finds your swollen clit and rubs it making you cry. "That's my good girl. Taking me so well. Come on baby mommy needs to de-stress after these bastards." Wanda leans over you and bites your neck as she continues to pound into you at a faster pace, your velvet walls starting to clench around her length. "Oh fuck Ms. Maximoff I'm close I gonna cum." Wanda’s cock hits that nice spot inside you so deliciously, pushing you inexorably to the edge. "Come on baby, cum for me. Show mommy how good she fucks you." Her fingers rub your sensitive bud faster and you see stars cumming all over her cock, crying out inaudible curses into the silence of the office. She continues to move, prolonging your orgasm until your breathing evens out.

She pulls out her faux cock and then a pair of strong arms turns you around so you're face to face so she can press her lips to yours in a leisurely kiss. Wanda walks back to sit back in her chair, holding you by the waist, pulling you behind her so that you sit on her lap. “I was not mistaken in choosing you as my assistant.”

#SoundCloud #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #wanda marvel #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff smut #scarlet witch

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adaelines · 1 year

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afab but gender neutral reader, horny as fuck smut, ada and leon competing for your attention! theyre both in love with you and wanna prove that you should be theirs.. wrote this in one night bc i wanna fuck both of them so bad lmao

To others, working with two people with as much renown as Ada and Leon might seem lucky. Missions with Leon always go easy, he's known for his strength and capability. A mission with Leon by your side is always a good mission, no matter the danger, you know he's there to protect you. Ada is the same, the few that know her naming her deadly, a woman who isn't afraid to do anything she needs to get what she wants. You know that all too well, just how stubborn she can be when she truly wants something.

You've known Leon longer, worked with him enough times to even call him a friend, but you can't deny the immediate spark you feel everytime Ada 'intrudes' on your missions, as Leon puts it. He always seems so bitter towards her, and anytime you're involved, it seems to turn almost malicious. Leon would never hurt her unless provoked to, you know that, but the way his eyes turn dark and he stands between you, almost shielding you from her, you can't help but feel like there's something more going on.

What you don't know, don't see, is the way they both rush to be the one by your side, the one to help you up if an enemy downs you, the one to defend you. They both want you to see them as someone you can trust, someone you can rely on with anything.

Leon is more gentle, forward. A soft smile that's reserved for only you and firm touches, a hand on your back whilst he guides you, always stood between you and anything he sees as dangerous, even the woman he currently sees himself at war with. Like a guard dog, willing to do anything if it means keeping you safe, he's always the one backing you up in any conflict and watching.

Ada, however, is more discreet. She protects you just as much, watches and never lets you come into danger that's avoidable, never lets anyone else get in the way of your mission. Defeating enemies before they can see you, before you can see them, locking doors if she thinks what's behind it is too dangerous for you. She knows you can take care of yourself, that you're strong, but she likes knowing you're safe, that she helped in keeping you safe.

Between them, you were very rarely in danger. Even when you did end up fighting someone, usually with no other choice, you saw the way Leon's eyes darkened, like a cornered, feral dog. He's dangerous, and he proves it when you're involved. Ada is the same. You don't get to see her fight as much, you're not partners with her like you are Leon, but there was a time you and her ended up together alone, and you saw just how strong she was, how far she was willing to go for you.

The unfounded, in your opinion, rivalry is how you ended up where you were, practically sitting on Leon's lap as you leant back against him, Ada knelt between your legs with her arms wrapped under your thighs, her grip firm. You were meant to be focused on a mission, but a situation that left you a little too close to danger for their liking ended up with them needing to punish you, as they put it.

Your shirt was bunched above your chest, shoved up by Leon's hands, currently groping your chest harshly, pinching your nipples and holding the fat of your chest tight. His grip was so rough it left you whining, head thrown back against his shoulder, which gave him the perfect angle to kiss along your jaw, your neck. His affection made Ada hum against your cunt, a noise that told you she was less than pleased. Her nose was buried in the wiry hair, mouth altering between your clit and hole.

Ada's gaze was overwhelming, her eyes full of fire and utter need. From her place between your thighs, she could see everything Leon was doing to you, and it only caused her to work harder. She wanted to be the one to make you feel good, it was going to be her name you moaned, not some dumb puppy's who didn't know how to treat you properly.

"C'mon, won't you be good for me, sweet thing?" Ada's voice was sultry, and when you opened your eyes to look to at her, you couldn't help the moan you let out. Her touch, her words, the utter love and affection in her eyes… It was almost too much, and if it wasn't for Leon's sharp pinch of your nipples, you could have gotten lost in her.

"For you? As if," Leon's voice was gruff in return, teeth gently resting on your pulse, "You still think too much of yourself, it's not going to be you they're good for."

The whine you let out in response was loud, one hand coming up to tangle in Ada's hair, the other placed on Leon's forearm. Your grip on both of them was tight, tight enough that you knew it would hurt, but you were too distracted, too out of it to even notice, not that they complained about your nails digging into them.

In response, Leon bit down on your neck, harsh enough to hurt, to leave a mark of his teeth that'll last a while, a reminder of who left it there and the position you were currently in. Ada simply chuckled, a low noise that vibrated against you, and flattened her tongue to lick from your hole up to your clit. She may have been on her knees before you, but she was completely in control over you, owned you, as she would put it.

Between them like this, the overwhelming attention from both of them, it was so much. You wanted to close your eyes, hide away from them, but you couldn't bring yourself to look away. Leon's large hands on your chest, his mouth on your neck and shoulders, all while Ada ate you out like a woman starved, like she was lost in a desert and you were the only respite.

"C'mon, stop looking at her," Leon's voice was low in your ear, quiet enough that Ada wouldn't hear, "You're mine, right? I own you and this cunt. No one could ever make you feel as good as i can. Prove it."

"C-an't! 's too much…!"

Your voice was shaky, an octave higher than usual thanks to the attention you were receiving.

"It's okay, sweetheart, moan my name and I'll stuff you full, you just need my cock, huh? Such a sweet thing, I'll ruin you.."

Ada let out a low hum against your clit, bringing one hand from your thigh to gently press against your hole. Her gaze went to Leon, almost glaring and full of malice, before returning to you, returning to the loving, affectionate focus for you. She couldn't hear Leon, but she could tell he was trying to get your attention away from her, away from her touch and tongue against you.

Just as Leon moved in to kiss you, Ada pushed her fingers inside of you, harsh and quick enough for you to let out a loud whine and jolt. She quickly cooed an apology, voice almost mocking.

"Aw, I'm sorry, love. Was that too much? Just can't help myself, it's not my fault you're just too cute… I just want to make you feel good, make you all mine…"

Leon didn't react well to that, not by the tight pinch he gave your nipple, the low noise he made against your neck was almost a growl. Calling him possessive would be an understatement, covering you in hickies and bruises that marked you as his and his, even with the woman between your thighs. To him, she wasn't there, she wasn't the one making you feel good, he was, and that's all he cared about.

Even as you got closer to release, as your pleasure climbed and all you could focus on was humping against Ada's face, holding Leon's arm as tight as you could, you could feel the competition between them, feel that they each wanted to prove to you just who could make you feel best.

Leon's lips were right against your ear, whispering how good you were being for him, even looking so slutty you were so gorgeous, won't you be mine? I'll take care of you, make you feel good, you'll never have to raise a finger again. I'll do anything for you, y'know? all you have to do is cum for me, only for me, you'll be so happy together… be a good whore and cum. I'll fuck you hard, fast, rough, anything you want. You'll be so dumb off of my cock you won't even be able to think about anything else, only how deep inside of you I can reach.

His words, mixed with Ada's attention to your clit, her fingers pressing into you harshly, filling you as much as she could, promises of more, of what she can do for you, to you, quickly finished your off, your back arching against Leon's chest, both hands gripping tightly, one still in Ada's hair, the other still on Leon's arm. Both of them let out their own noises as you came. Leon a quiet groan, eyes closing as he gently pressed kisses against your jaw, whilst Ada moaned against you, eyes closed tight as she drank everything you offered, holding you as close to her face as she could, even when you tried to jolt away in overstimulation.

Ada pulled away, the grim on her face proud, still full of desire.

"What a good little thing for me, you taste so delicious too…"

"Excuse me? For you? No, that was all for me…"

They weren't done with you, with their competition for your affection. It was going to be a very long night.

#god im so normal about them #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #ada wong #ada wong smut #ada wong x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil #resident evil x reader

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gay-dorito-dust · 6 months

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How about something about being a very soft and feminine person, strong independent in their own way, with Mizu. I like to think she is joins the party and acts as the “woman” for the group, and she just genuinely is a good person. I just want to see Mizu with someone who just cares about them.

This was way too long and whatever else you wanna call it.

‘You’ll die.’ Mizu puts bluntly.

‘I don’t care. I’m coming with you whether you like it or not.’ You shrugged, mind made up as you already have packed your essentials for the departure overnight.

Mizu closed their eyes, sighing deeply through the nose before opening their eyes once more to look directly at you with their usual stare. ‘I won’t be held responsible if you were killed unawares.’ They said but the fire of excitement and adventure within your eyes hasn’t faltered once.

Mizu can only wonder how they attract people of similar natures in one way or the other to trail after them like a little horde of stubborn ducklings; A question they’ll couldn’t quite find the answer for.

You have been prone to leave Mizu perplexed since your first met after healing them of their wounds after a particularly heinous fight. Your soft touches and kind encouraging words brought about uncertain feelings within Mizu. Making them feel as though they have somehow ventured off into unfamiliar territory, immediately sending them to act out in self defensive tactics.

Constantly looking over their shoulder, hand clutching at the hilt of their sword, ears and eyes honing in on every snaps of branches and the rustling of bushes, waiting for a potential ambushes or ransacking attempts. Anything that would put their life in any and all levels of risk.

Mizu found themself in a battlefield they weren’t well versed in whenever your face shone with a bright smile upon seeing them in the mornings, presenting them with the clothes they’ve entrusted to you to sew up the worn and torn fabric, seeing as how only you were the one with the tools and the experience for the job. Or how you would often help fix up breakfast for everyone but always end up making yours last, when Mizu asked about this, you just shrugged and told them that you’d rather survive off of scraps if it meant others having full, warm and satisfied bellies.

Mizu only scoffs at this, not thinking too much into your words, but their sharp eyes would immeditly notice the difference in the amount of food you gave them before looking at your own proportions; which was enough to satiate your hunger for the time being but it was obvious that you gave larger portions of food to them. Their eyes would soften somewhat at the gesture, knowing that your words were more than just words, only to harden afterwards when catching you given them frequent side glances.

You would also patch up reopened words that were in harder to reach for Mizu or Tiagen to get to by themselves , much to Mizu’s dismay at the thought of being in such a vulnerable and open position for sabotage. However under your watchful eye, Mizu had learnt over a long period of time to put their trust into you and your seemingly never ending well of talents.

‘Stop doing stuff that’ll only reopen your wounds,’ you scolded, finishing sealing up the last of Mizu’s wounds with a final stitch. ‘I’m staring to run out of thread and alcohol to disinfect the needle with the rate you and Taigen are going at!’ You added, putting your hands on your hips like a disappointed parent.

‘If it displeases you so much to waste resources, then why bother healing me in the first place.’ Mizu responded straightforwardly as they slowly refitted their clothing on their body whilst trying not to reopen any wounds as to not waste the effort you put into putting them back together again. You huffed, knowing that Mizu was still a little on edge with you and the kindness you went out of your way to give them.

You didn’t blame them for being the way they were and only accepted this as their way of acting the only way they knew how and went to sit down next to them, remembering to keep some distance for keep Mizu from unwarranted contact. ‘It’s not the resources that I’m worried about. It’s you.’ You admitted, seeing Mizu look at you from the corner of your eye, looking as though they weren’t expecting that type of response to come from your mouth. That reaction only hurt your heart knowing that a concerning about of people lacked empathy towards their fellow man. It genuinely disgusted you at how easy it was for them to show you their back the moment you’ve outgrown your usage.

‘Me? Why?’ Mizu asked.

You chuckled humourlessly. ‘Is it a sin for me to be concerned about you? To worry about you whenever you come back from where ever you wander off to, suddenly unable to stand on your own two feet without collapsing from immense blood loss?’ Mizu reminded silent and so you took that as a sign to continue. ‘Am I expected to just stand there and not do anything? I’m sorry but I’d rather wast every resource I own on you because if it meant bettering your chances of survival, even if by a margin, then I’d do anything to make that possibility into a guarantee.’ You finished with a smile before getting up to your feet and leaving the room to give Mizu privacy and time to process your words.

Meanwhile Mizu was back to feeling those foreign emotions. They weren’t use to someone caring for them to the extent that you did, not without wanting something in exchange but Mizu noticed that you haven’t even once asked for anything in return for making them breakfast, sewing up their clothes, gifting them sharping stones for their sword nor patching up their wounds. All you did was take care of them and their every needs, so much so that they felt a weird warm within their chest at the memory of your bright smile that you gave them after everything.

You were sweet and soft but strong, firm in your beliefs and posses a strong independence. A true diamond in the rough in regard to everything they’ve bore witness to since childhood. Your attitude towards them was an extreme contrast to everyone else’s, it often caught Mizu off guard in the odd occasion but it wasn’t until now did Mizu come to realised how much their body ached to be tended and cared for by someone like you. They’ve persevered through the hardships they’re forced to call life and bore the scars of said hardships in a multitude of places upon their body, both new and old.

Mizu was use to being alone but now that you entered their life, they were starting to think that they don’t wanna be alone anymore but was a tad hesitant to make the first move on their own accord. If Mizu was grateful for one thing in life, it was the fact that you were in it and by their side for the indefinite future.

#blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu x reader #mizu x you #mizu imagines #mizu imagine #blue eye samurai imagine #blue eye samurai imagines #Netflix

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cupid-styles · 3 months

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the yoga class (hockey!h x ballerina!yn)

in which y/n has to lead a yoga class for the hockey team, and harry doesn't miss out on making fun of her (but maybe he needs her help, too).

I actually love this blurb and I hope you guys enjoy it too :))

word count: 1.8k

content warnings: none really! y/n and harry both being stubborn little shits but minor strides made by the end :)

hockey!h x ballerina!yn masterlist

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. . .

When Mrs. Lei asked Y/N if she would mind instructing an entry level yoga class this evening, she neglected to mention that it was for the hockey team.

What she had said implied something along the lines of, “You’re one of my star students and always go above and beyond, and I know I can sucker you into doing nearly anything because you’re an incredibly disciplined dancer with the inability to say no.”

So, naturally, even though it felt like every single tiny muscle in Y/N’s body was aching from practicing grand and tour jetés (Mrs. Lei was ruthless about them), she said she’d do it. Because she’s a sucker without a backbone, and getting placed as a frontline dancer or receiving a glowing recommendation from Mrs. Lei somewhere down the line was more than enough of a reason for her to teach some measly 45-minute yoga class at the end of the day.

She assumes it’s some type of volunteer work, an open call to students across campus. There was a fairly large performing arts sector and, like any other university, a decent amount of sports teams, so Y/N assumed there would at least be a class of 10 or so. Mrs. Lei sets her up with a basket of yoga mats from the gym and some simple instructions of, “it’s meant to be a stretch-heavy, restorative flow, so don’t go too hard on them.”

Easy enough, right?

But Y/N’s stomach slowly begins to churn when 6 pm comes around and the only people filtering in are big, burly men that she feels like she’s only seen in layers upon layers of protective equipment. Y/N isn’t short, nor is she a particularly small person — her abilities as a dancer have been questioned time and time again because of this — so she doesn’t feel intimidated by them, considering she knows she could go toe-to-toe with them in a smattering of physical activities. Running wasn’t her strong suit, but a decent amount of cardio was required to maintain the appearance of keeping it together during longer performances, while the muscles of her arms, back, and legs were chiseled from years of nearly daily practice.

But when Harry walks in, she assumes this is some kind of prank. Mrs. Lei would never be put up to something like that (she’s a woman with decorum), but maybe the hockey team somehow caught wind of the class and wanted to torture her, just like Harry’s been doing for the past three years.

She stomps over to him the second he crosses the entryway, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back outside.

“No,” she says immediately, dropping his arm like it’s poisonous, “Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out.” she repeats through gritted teeth. “This isn’t funny. You can’t fuck with me when I’m doing something like this.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrow and he seems to look genuinely confused. It’s only then that he cocks his head to the side, a smirk threatening to curl at the edges of his lips. “Cinderella, did no one tell you who this class is for?”

She shrugs her shoulders and crosses her arms over her chest. Y/N doesn’t like being taken by surprise, let alone other people knowing she’s out of the loop.

Harry damn near chortles in response as the smirk grows into a wicked grin. “Oh, sweetheart. You signed up to teach the hockey team yoga.”

Once Harry gets his boyish laughter out of the way, Y/N makes quick work of changing the rundown of the class. She moves her yoga mat all the way to the back in fear of having 15 hockey players stare at her ass the entire time, instructing them to watch her in the mirror or raise their hand if they need help getting into a certain position. She lowers the lights and puts some soothing music on to tune out any teasing laughter, but it already seems like they’re taking it seriously based on the way most of them are already in cross-legged positions, allowing their eyes to fall closed. It eases Y/N’s nerves some, until she looks over at Harry, who’s sitting there with his legs straight out like a toddler, a goofy smile on his lips.

With a roll of her eyes, she begins the class.

. . .

“This one might be a little tough so let me know if you need some help, but we’re gonna shift into a reclined pigeon pose now,” Y/N instructs, “With your back flat against the mat, bend your knees. Good. Now, with one knee still bent, we’re going to create a figure 4 by crossing the right ankle over the top of the left knee.”

She gives them some time to process, standing from her own mat to ensure no one’s desperately flopping around.

“Great,” she praises, “This is excellent for opening your hip flexors, thighs, and chest. Make sure you’re breathing into the pose.”

She hears a chorus of deep exhales and it makes her smile. Not only is she glad that they’re actually taking it seriously (there’s a possibility she judged them all a bit too hard), but there’s something about having some sort of power over the team that strokes her ego, too.

She weaves in and out between the mats, continuing to encourage them to breathe and stretch deeper. When she passes by Harry, who’s doing the pose a bit wrong, she resists the urge to simply kick him.

Instead she quietly gets down on her knees, “Do you need help adjusting?”

Harry’s eyes flicker open. Instantly, he has a scowl on his face. So much for relaxation. “Why?”

“Your ankle bone should be pressing into your thigh,” she whispers, pointing to where his ankle is just barely grazing the edge of his leg, “If you deepen the pose, it’ll help with any stress you’re feeling in your hips and thighs.”

He huffs, clearly contemplating her offer, before rolling his eyes and mumbling out, “sure.”

She wants to tell him that touching him certainly isn’t at the top of her to-do list today, but she doesn’t want to disrupt the rest of the class. With her knees pressing into the surface of his yoga mat, she sits in front of him, gently grasping his right calf and shifting it to the side.

“What the fuck, Cinderella?!” he whisper-yells, nails clawing into the thick foam he’s laying on. Y/N shushes him and sends an irritated glare his way. “That hurts!”

“Probably because your hips are tight as fuck.” she mutters. “How do you walk around like this all day?”

“I don’t know, you try being a goalie—”

“Shut the fuck up,” she whispers under her breath. She hates that argument, where people automatically assume that ballet is some pretty artform that requires minimal effort. It was gorgeous, but the amount of painful injuries Y/N’s sustained from the sport would send Harry into a tizzy.

It’s clear that he’s not bending any deeper into the pose so Y/N stands up, deciding to finish up the class instead of focusing all of her attention on Harry and his fucked up hips. She keeps them on the floor for the remainder of their time, having them do light twists and stretches, finally closing out class with some positive self-affirmations. When 6:45 pm ticks by, she slowly turns on the lights and stands by the door. They’re all very polite, thanking her graciously for spending her evening with them. It’s almost enough to make her feel pure happiness until Harry, the last to leave, stops in front of her.

“What?” she asks, crossing her arms defensively.

“Can you shut the door?”

Y/N squints her eyes at him. “No?”

“I have a question and I don’t want anyone to hear it.”

“I swear to god, if you ask me to jerk you off or something, I will punch you so hard in the dick—”

“Oh, shut up,” Harry mutters, “That’s why puck bunnies exist, asshole.”

Y/N’s stomach tightens, though she’s not exactly sure why. Every sports team had some form of groupies with “puck bunnies” being the name of the ones for the hockey team. It seemed somewhat derogatory to her, but it didn’t seem like the girls held much of an issue with it.

“Sounds gross.” she finally replies, her face twisting into an expression of disgust.

“Well it’s not like we all share them, the girls have their biases—”

“Is this what you wanted to ask me about?”

Harry’s eyes dart to the door and she sighs, closing it gently. Annoyed, she motions for him to say whatever it is he needs to say.

“Goalies have to wear, like, a shit ton of stuff on the ice and I hardly ever stretch after a game—”

“That’s awful for you, Harry.”

He shoots her an angry look.

“So, yeah, my hips are fucked. And they hurt really fucking bad.”

“Start stretching after games, then?” Y/N replies as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah… that’s kind of the idea,” he says slowly, “Do you have, like… other… yoga poses that you know of? That would be good for that type of thing?”

Y/N thinks for a moment. It’s something she has to do before and after performances or practices, too, since a number of moves and jumps rely on the joint movement in her hips. From an athlete-to-athlete standpoint, she gets it. In fact, she almost pities him, because the pain must be awful.

“Yes,” she eventually says with a nod. “There’s a lot. If it helps, I can put together a little guide for you and text it to you.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Really? You would do that?”

She shrugs. “You must be hurting badly to ask for my help.”

He scoffs, digging into the pocket of his athletic shorts for his phone. He pulls it out, bringing up his contact page. “You have no idea.”

She hums as she quickly types her number in. For the contact name, she always puts emojis in so people don’t forget who she is. She settles on Y/N🌷🩰🍒. When she hands it back to him, he snorts.

“What?”

“Those emojis definitely aren’t staying.” he replies with a roll of his eyes.

“Why?” she asks with a slightly pouty bottom lip.

“Because emojis are childish and I don’t put them next to anyone’s name?”

She balks at his criticism as she slides her shoes on.

“That’s mean. I put emojis next to everyone’s name on my phone.”

Harry snorts, “Yeah? What are you gonna put next to mine, then?”

It doesn’t take her more than a second to decide: “The devil horns, probably.”

He cackles as he opens the door to the studio with a shake of his head.

“Wouldn’t want it any other way, princess,” he calls out as he walks down the hallway.

#writing #hockey h #harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one direction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x oc #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles oneshot

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stubz · 2 months

Text

"Okay everyone floor is lava in 10..."

children scatter across the in door park.

"9..."

some leap onto nearby benches. Others climb nearby trees.

"8...7..."

the nearby safe spots become too crowded. Some force their way in while others sprint for the only place with enough room for the remaining few. The water fountain.

"6...5..."

the fountain can hold them all but is far. The slow one's won't make it.

"3...2...1..."

Some of the strong ones carry the slowest. their kindness is their downfall.

"FLOOR IS LAVA!!"

the lava takes them.

"Okay everyone on the ground is out!"

*chorus of groaning*

"So we have, 1, 2, 3...8...11...wait. Everyone hold still for a sec." the human recounts the children. And then again. And again.

"Where's Piper?"

"She was running that way!"

"Yeah towards the field!"

"The field? But there's nothing to climb there.."

"Is the floor still lava!?!"

Out in the field is Piper, sitting on top of her other teacher Kim's shoulders.

"Piper your out, you know the rules. You can't ask someone to carry you when the floor is lava."

"I didn't carry her."

"Kim no fibbing. Kids don't like it when it comes to floor is lava."

"No really I didn't. She climbed me," the woman picks the girl off her and put her down "show them Piper."

The 7 year old smiles and goes behind Kim and then starts to climb. Using the adults calves as a step she boosts her other foot to Kim's hip and then latches onto her neck with her arms. From their she shimmies herself onto her teacher's shoulders. All while Kim keeps her arms to her sides.

"...how long has she been able to do this?"

"Since yesterday."

"That's really cool."

"I know, right?"

...

"Human Kim I'd like to ask you a question about...human children."

"Yeah sure, go ahead."

"So as you know I am courting Morgan, who has 2 children, and I was wondering if it's normal for them at their age to not be able to climb me or him?"

"Climb you?"

"Yes, like that human child with blonde hair. Harrison is about her age yet he can't climb us like she can climb you."

"...Ohhh, yeah that's not a normal thing."

"Really?? But she does it with such ease and you look so, so, used to it. As if it was normal behavior."

"Piper is incredibly flexible and strong for her age, and while yes I am used to it that's because I'm used to kids climbing me while I'm sitting or helping them."

"So human children do climb their caretakers?"

"Yes."

"But Piper's climbing is not normal?"

"...yes. Wait. Hold on...So human children do climb on their family members but most of them can't climb to an adult's shoulders like that without help. Only a few like Piper are strong enough to do that."

"Ah. So I should not be concerned that Morgan's children can't do that?"

"No, you should not."

"Okay then. Humans are strange."

"That they are!"

#humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #humans in space #the adventures of kim and max running a space child care centre #I was talking to some other kids at work and slowly noticed that 'Piper' was climbing me #and was actually doing a great job at it #the child climbed onto my shoulders like it was nothing #in like 15 seconds she was up there #i have no idea why she thought of climbing me but she did and was determined to get up there #i'm not tall but still it's impressive cause there's a 12inch difference between us

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spaceycowboys · 2 years

Text

starry eyes sparking up my darkest night

pairing: aemond targaryen x female!tyrell!reader

summary: aemond has only wanted two things in his life. a dragon and to marry the pretty tyrell girl, now he has both.

warnings: smut, literally almost all smut very little plot, virginity loss, oral sex (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), creampie, breeding kink, light innocence kink, light size kink, use of pet names, blood is mentioned two (2) times, aemond has a huge cock i don’t make the rules, and breeder balls, eye patch gets taken OFF when aemond fucks his lady wife, implied jealousy, implied voyeurism (? just incase?), out of character aemond (?), i think thats all?

notes: i am a whore for a villain. aemond is so hot i love him. this is a side blog, i just didnt want to post on my main blog, im fairly rusty at writing smut, so any and all feedback will be greatly appreciated!! please interact if you see this because i think tumblr hates me:((!! title credits: call it what you want by taylor swift

word count: 5.3k

The wedding had been lovely, truly, but you think everyone could tell your heart wasn’t really in it. Few smiles reached your eyes, and you couldn’t lie that a part of you had felt slightly devasted you were being married in the Dragon Pit in the sight of the Seven, and not the Godswood in Winterfell that you’d come to love during your time in Cregan Stark’s presence many years ago.

You’d thought it was a grand wedding, perhaps too grand for the marriage of a second son, but Aemond is a Prince, so what did you know, besides that and the feeling that the Hand and Queen were trying to sway your father’s loyalty to them when King Viserys joins his late wife, perhaps even go as far as to hope for the favor of your lady mother’s family.

An extravagant weeklong event. Tourneys and hunts and beautiful dinners with lots of dancing. Many lords and ladies had come, many of your friends from childhood present and even your eldest brother. It made the evening feel less lonely for you to be in the presence of people you know so well.

You had been surprised, however, to see the Princess Rhaenyra present with her husband (uncle?) and their children. You heard often of the animosity between the two families, and you were sure she wouldn’t have come. You’d been even more surprised when she had approached you at, a smile on her pretty face.

“Lady Tyrell, you make a most beautiful bride,” She smiles fondly at you.

Aemond tensed next to you, so did the Queen when her next words left her mouth before you could even let out a proper thank you for her compliment, “Though, I must say I am disappointed that your father had not chosen my own son to be your husband. We were heavily in discussion regarding it.”

Your eyebrows furrow as your head turned over in the direction of your father who was seated to your left, “I must say, Princess, I did not know I had many suitors.”

“Why would she want to marry your Strong son, dear sister, when she had better offers?” Aemond spit the words out hatefully at the same time you try to answer her, glaring over her shoulder at the son in question. Jacaerys.

You’d met him on a few occasions, and he was a kind boy. A little closer to your age than your now husband. You didn’t think you knew him well enough to warrant any sort of affections from him, but you suppose that doesn’t matter, since you’d only met Aemond once as children before your father received the letter of the marriage offer from the Hand of the King.

“Aemond,” Alicent had hissed through gritted teeth, “this is a joyous occasion, one you had wanted so desperately. So, please, do not.”

Your now husband huffed out a bitter laugh before grabbing his cup and drowning the rest of his drink. You furrow your eyebrows at her words and look to Aemond slightly confused. He wanted to desperately marry you?

Rhaenyra ignored his comment and stayed looking at you, eyebrows having a slight furrow at your words, “You are a beautiful young woman and you come from one of the great houses, I can promise you that your father was drowning in marriage offers. But I do hope you will be happy here, with my dear brother.”

She walks away before you could say anything, tensing to stop a flinch when Aemond slammed his cup down harshly.

“That fucking cunt. How dare she come over here and say all those things. As if we did not just get married. As if your husband is not sitting right fucking next to you.” He was seething, and it honestly shocked you. You have barely even spoken to him; you really didn’t think he even liked you much.

“Aemond, you will watch your mouth in front of your wife,” Alicent spoke out, slightly baffled that he would say such things in front of you, in front of your family.

Your father is tense next to you, and you place your hand on his own and squeeze. This can’t be that bad. You can endure it.

As you look at Aemond, you can’t help but wonder if he will even be so bad. As if he can hear your thoughts, his hand moves to rest tenderly on your own.

The rest of the evening blurs together until Aegon stumbled his way over to where you were seated, “I believe we should be approaching the bedding ceremony soon, dear brother?”

And though his words had been directed at your husband, you felt his lust and drunk eyes on you. The mention of the bedding ceremony had you tense, and Aegon’s eyes don’t do anything to soothe your nerves.

“There will be no bedding ceremony.” Aemond spoke without a waver in his voice. What?

Aegon’s head snapped towards his brother, “And why the fuck not? It’s tradition.”

Aemond hummed, unamused, “I will not make a spectacle of my lady wife.” His words make your heart soften slightly

“She will not be your lady wife for long if there is no proof.” Aegon tried not to sound as desperate as he felt.

“There will be blood on my sheets come morning and a babe in her belly,” Aemond spoke as he stood up, towering over his older brother before he moved his face close enough to where no one, except you- much to your embarrassment, “though I do suppose if you are that concerned, you may stand outside my quarters and listen for the confirmation that my marriage has been consummated.”

Aemond takes your hand and pulls you from the room after that, moving quickly as if attempting not to be noticed.

“Why are we not doing the bedding ceremony? Is it not tradition? Will we not get in trouble?” Your voice is slightly panicked at the idea of getting in trouble for not doing what you are supposed to do, causing him to stop outside the door of his chambers and look at you.

“I would not feel like a very good husband if there were a bunch of old men with greedy eyes seeing your bare body before I got to see it,” He looks serious, and he sounds it as well. Though his voice lowers slightly into a possessive tone when the next words come out, “I also would not like anyone to see it after I do.”

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Large hands take the many pins out of your hair before gently starting to unknot and remove the many intricate braids the servant girls spent hours doing not long ago. It feels like a waste, makes you feel as if you are a spectacle for viewing and gawking at only.

Which you suppose you are- if you were being honest with yourself. You’d been lucky to inherit not only your mother’s beauty, but as well as the charm that all the women from your lord fathers house seem to have.

You wonder why he insisted that the handmaiden leave, from what your mother told you it was typical of them to prepare you for the upcoming moments.

Your hair is abandoned for the strings at the back of your dress once Aemond has removed all the braids. The air is cold on your back and your hands are shaking when his own move to touch your bare skin in a way that no one else has. One hand is on the nape rubbing in an almost affectionate way as the other moves to pull the extravagant gown from your body.

You didn’t think you could get anymore tense than you already were, until your wedding dress dropped from your body unceremoniously onto the cold ground.

Goosebumps cover your body as you’re fully exposed to the cold air, despite the fire going in the fireplace. His hands move to map your body, starting at your shoulders and slowly moving down to your hips.

His lips on your neck causes you to gasp in surprise, your belly warming at the feeling of not only his lips on you but his hands on your hips, squeezing softly at the skin and biting back a grown when the reach your ass.

His mouth moves from your neck to your shoulders, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses on your skin as he makes his way down your back. You close your eyes at the unfamiliar feeling stirring inside you, a surprised gasp escaping you when a dull bite lands on your hip.

You feel his smile against your skin as he does the same to your other hip before he stands up to make his way around your body.

He stands in front of you, fully clothed still despite having taken off all of your clothing, leaving you bare for him to feast upon with his eye.

Aemond’s hands are calloused and rough, you assume from years of sword training and dragon riding, as they caress your face. His bright eye locked on yours, watching for any reactions. Thumbs trace under your eyes, over your nose, and your lips.

“Have you ever been touched this way?” His voice is quiet as his hands move down your neck towards your collarbones.

“No, my Prince,” Your voice pitches up at the end when his mouth finds your neck again, his teeth piercing your skin again.

“Not even your own hands?” His tone is serious but the smirk you feel against your skin lets you know he’s teasing.

You feel your face heat up at his implication. “No. Never.”

Aemond lets out a pleased hum at your words, soft voice stirring something primal in him.

His mouth is on yours before you can think of something else to say. His lips are a little dry, something you didn’t notice when he kissed you earlier at the wedding. One hand grips your hip as the other tangles into your hair, tugging lightly causing you to gasp. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

It’s an unfamiliar feeling, all of it is, though. You’re overwhelmed and throbbing at your core.

Can he hear your heartbeat as well as you can? It’s pounding in your ears along with a rush of heat that takes over your whole body.

His tongue coaxes yours to move against it, and you wonder if this is how it’s supposed to feel. If you’re supposed to feel this good. Are you even allowed to feel this good? Your handmaiden had told you on many occasions that men only cared for their own pleasure, and you would be feeling a lot of pain. This didn’t feel like anything she described.

Aemond pulls his mouth from yours and looks at you with a hooded eye, pupil so blown you can’t see the blue of it. There’s a light flush on his cheeks as he looks at your swollen lips.

“You are quite beautiful, my lady.” It’s said so quietly, you wonder if it was supposed to be a secret. You’d like to know all his secrets, you think.

When you don’t respond, his mouth attaches itself to your neck. A sharp pain if him biting is followed by a light sucking as if to soothe it.

You aren’t sure where to put your hands, they’ve stayed at your side due to your shyness and uncertainty.

“Have you been with many women?” The question leaves your mouth before your mind even processes that you’ve asked it.

His mouth stops moving against your skin as your blood runs cold, shaking, and wide eyed when he pulls away to look at you.

Sharpe eye studies your features, like a lion about to eat a lamb. Or, perhaps, a dragon ready to burn a rose.

He steps back, taking your hand as he sighs and looks away from you in, shame?

“When I was thirteen, Aegon took me to a brothel. Told me it was time to get it wet,”

You grimace at his word choice, but when you see how he’s looking at you, you squeeze his hand.

“To put it lightly, my dear lady, it was not a very nice experience. I have been with very few women since,”

Shame fills you at his words, and before he can continue you speak quickly, “I am so sorry, I did not mean to push you into speaking about an event you-“

His hands are back on your face, holding your cheeks, “You are my wife.” It’s a statement, and his words come out slightly harsh, “You are entitled to every piece of me. I will tell you everything you wish to know about me,”

His kiss is full of fire this time, claiming your lips with such an intensity. His body is pressed full against yours; you can feel his toned chest through his shirt. The fabric is soft against your chest, and as if they have a mind of their own, your hands start grasping at them hem of it desperately.

“Aemond,” It’s the first time you’ve spoken his name that way, he likes the way it sounds. Desperate, needy. Maybe he just likes that it comes from you.

Aemond was nine the first time he saw you, still had both eyes back then. You’d been visiting the Keep with your father. The King wanted updates about something, Aemond didn’t know or care what it was. All he knew was that you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.

You had such grace and were so kind. Helaena didn’t have many friends at court due to her fascination with insects. But you held all the creepy crawlers she held out to you, spent the day reading to her so she didn’t have to pull herself away from the bugs.

You were younger than him, but he didn’t care. He liked the way your voice sounded as you read to Helaena, how you laughed when she would whisper out name ideas for her bugs and then look to you to see if the name suited the bug, how you smiled at him when you would catch him sitting just far enough to not be seen but to hear.

You left with your father, and then a year later he heard a servant that you’d been taken to Winterfell to see how you’d pair with Cregan Stark.

After he lost his eye, he told his mother it was a fair trade, and that he’d gotten Vhagar in return, so it didn’t matter. But after he heard Rhaenyra speak of you to Daemon, of her hopes to marry you to Jace, he back tracked.

When they returned to King’s Landing from Driftmark, he told his mother he felt like he deserved to choose his future bride- and that he would want you in return for his lost eye. Truly the rest was history; she brought the request to Viserys stating that it was the least he could be given after what was taken from him.

Viserys allowed it but stated that it would have to be on your father’s terms on when and how if he agreed. It was no surprise that he did agree, though. Lord Tyrell is a proud man and agreed after a few years of discussion and persuasion.

“My lady,” Your thighs involuntarily press together at the way he says it, like he owns you; and he does.

He smirks at the way your body reacts to him just speaking, “May I touch you?”

You moan and breathe out a whine, “If you’d like,”

He pulls away from you just enough to remove the shirt from his body, and then he grabs your hands and places them on his chest.

“I’d like it if you would touch me as well,” His request comes out confident, almost like a demand. Almost everything he says causes more and more heat to flood your body and your lower stomach.

Your shy hands trace over the whole expanse of his chest, rubbing, squeezing, light scratching. Your eyes stay on his face, drinking in every reaction. The way he opens his mouth and lets out a breathy gasp, how his eye closes, and head goes back when you scratch lightly over his pectoral muscles.

With a sudden surge of confidence, you slowly move closer and place a light kiss on his neck. A quiet groan leaves his mouth in response, and you take it as encouragement to continue. A hand moves to your head, lightly holding the back of your neck in place as you suck and bite as he did to you.

You don’t register that he’s been moving you backwards until your knees hit the bed, causing you to gasp and pull away.

Both his hands are back on your face as he slowly lowers you so you’re lying flat, you go to question him when he doesn’t join you, but to your confusion he moves to his knees between your legs.

“What are you-“ The question dies on your tongue when you feel his hands move up your thighs and close to your core.

This is definitely not normal. You’ve never heard of this being part of any bedding. In a panic your hands rush to his face as it gets closer to your core, “What are you doing?”

His eye finds yours and studies your face before smirking, “Just lay back and let me make you feel good, wife.”

Before you can respond you feel his tongue on you, no- in you.

“Oh, gods.”

It’s really unlike anything you’ve ever felt, it’s nearly overwhelming. All you can feel is him. His hands on your inner thighs holding you open for him, his fingers gripping so hard they’re surely leaving bruises, his tongue, gods his tongue.

A finger lightly traces at your entrance, teasingly. The finger makes its way inside you as he sucks on your clit.

“Aemond,” He pulls away at his name leaving your mouth, eye finding you with your head back and hands clutching the bedding at your sides so tightly your knuckles are turning white.

His free hand reaches for one of your own, intertwining your fingers, eye not leaving your face as he adds another inside you, scissoring the two of them lightly while his thumb rubs circles on your clit.

“Do you feel good?” His tone is slightly cocky, but when your eyes look at his face, you see he looks slightly shy.

Before you can respond, his fingers curl inside you and you’re eyes are squeezing shut as a sharp whine leaves your mouth. He hums thoughtfully at your reaction before doing the same thing again, again, again until.

“Oh, please, please, please,” Your nails are digging into his skin, so hard it may be drawing blood, and your thighs begin shaking by his head when his mouth finds your clit again. His fingers don’t falter inside you until your voice pitches up due to the overstimulation.

You finally open your eyes and watch as he sticks the two fingers that had just been inside you into his mouth before looking at you with a smirk as he leans his head back down to lick from the bottom of your cunt back up to your clit.

Wheezing, your thighs move to close themselves as both your hands reach for his head to push him away from you.

Aemond lets out a laugh as he pulls away from your cunt and crawls up your body. Big arms cage you in as he looks at you with something akin to adoration.

“You taste so good,” He says it in such an attractive manner, you’ve never though any words like that would sound so good coming from someone’s mouth. “Would you like to try it?”

You flush at his words, embarrassment filling you before you nod shyly. His smirk deepens as he presses his mouth to yours.

You moan at the feeling of his mouth back on your own, gasping when his hands places itself on your breasts and tweaks with your nipples, and Aemond takes the opportunity to shove his tongue in your mouth when you do.

The taste is slightly sweet, slightly bitter. Tangy, would be a better word, maybe like a Dornish wine or an orange. His cock is straining in his pants as he presses himself up against your cunt, the size takes you by surprise. It feels large, much bigger than his fingers and much too big to fit inside you, but between the feeling of his hands on your breasts, the heat coming off of his bare chest where your hands dig into his shoulders, and the taste of yourself on his mouth as his tongue maps out the inside of your mouth.

A surge of boldness fills you and you remove a hand from one of his shoulders and reach between the two of you, grabbing lightly and unsurely at his cock. The action causes him to pull away from you as a surprised moan leaves his mouth.

There’s a fire in his eye as he looks at you, watching you as you look up with him with uncertain yet shining eyes at everything you’re feeling for the very first time. At his hands no less.

A smirk crawls it’s way back on it’s face, “Do you want to make me feel good, little wife?”

“Yes,” Your answer causes him to let out a pleased hum, but to your confusion he pulls your hand away from his cock.

“Next time I’ll teach you how to please me the way I did you. I don’t want to overwhelm you this time,” His eye holds tenderness as he says the sweet words that light your body on fire.

“This is not how I expected tonight to go,” Your shy words cause a sympathetic smile to show on his features.

“Many husbands don’t care for their wife’s pleasure,” His hands are untying the laces on his pants as he moves up from the bed to strip himself of them. Pride fills him when your eyes widen at the site of his cock.

It’s long and thick, it sits hard and proud up against his stomach, almost hitting his naval. It’s as pale as the rest of him, slightly red at the tip. A bead of precum drips from the tip and down his shaft, your eyes follow it to his balls. There also big, no surprise. The hair so pale that if there is any, you can’t see it. They look heavy, almost uncomfortable.

“Does it hurt?” The question spills out of your mouth, and Aemond wants to laugh until he sees how serious you are.

“No, it’s just uncomfortable,” You’re wide eyes find his face again, another question that almost makes him laugh.

“Will it fit inside me?” You really don’t think it will, or if it does, it’ll be in your stomach. The though makes you nervous.

“We’ll go slow, if you’d like,” He crawls back on top of you, hands finding your thighs so he can fit his body in between them.

His cock is hot against the skin of your thigh, the tip lightly brushes your folds causing you to shiver. His hand grabs at the base of his cock, guiding the tip from your clit to your hole, then back up. Little gasps leave you every time it bumps against your clit or catches on your tight hole.

Aemond holds a lot of restraint, but he can only hold so much, “I’m going to put it in now,”

He looks to you for you to consent, but tenses when your hands shyly reach up at the leather straps of the patch covering his eye.

“Can you take this off?” Your eyes hold no fear, just slight uncertainty.

His face doesn’t change at all, “I’d rather not scare you-“

“I am bare before you, as your wife. You could be bare for me as my husband, as well.” You’re voice doesn’t shake at all, for the first time all evening, he notes.

With a sigh, he takes his hand from your thigh and closes his eye as he takes the patch off. He doesn’t want to see your inevitable reaction of fear or disgust before you turn over and have him take you from behind.

Aemond flinches when he feels your hand tracing his scar, from his forehead, over the sapphire in place of where his eye should be, down to where it ends.

He hears you take in a shaky breath before your mouth is diving up towards his, and for the first time all evening you’ve taken control of something. He enjoys it, the way your tongue forces its way into his mouth.

He kisses you back with the same amount of energy, sucking on your tongue and nipping at your lips until you pull away. His eye studies you, the lust filled look in your eyes and flush covering you with swollen, wet lips.

“You may take me now, Aemond,” The words are but a whisper, but he hears you clearly.

His cock is, now, painfully hard as he nods and tightens his grip so he can carefully guide himself inside you.

He hisses though his teeth at the feeling of your cunt, slick and warm and tight, enveloping his cock. You’re the tightest thing he’s ever felt.

An animalistic feeling nearly overcomes him. He feels a primal need to shove his cock all the way inside you, rip through your maidenhead and fuck you full of him. He want to see your blood on his cock as he thrust inside you, fill you full of him, fuck you so hard there’s no questioning if his seed took tonight.

The feeling is slightly different for you. The stretch is uncomfortable, and it stings slightly, it causes you to feel so full you may burst or overfill. He goes slow, like he promised, but you can feel his body shaking above you as he restrains himself from taking you like an animal.

When he reaches the barrier of your maidenhead, he halts, “I have to push a little harder, here,”

A flash of fear flashes through your eyes for a brief moment before you nod for him to continue.

With a shaky exhale, he pulls back slightly and then pushes forward sharply, a little too sharply. Because the next thing he knows you’ve got tears streaming down your face and his pelvis is flush with yours. It’s hot and so, so tight. It, you, feel so fucking good.

His mouth is hanging open slightly as he breathes heavily, trying to gain control over himself. When he looks down at you, he feels guilt coarse through him.

“Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry,” You take not that while his voice doesn’t sound sorry, his eye shows that he is. Hands reach for your cheeks so he can wipe the tears that have been falling from your eyes away.

You remove an arm from around his shoulder and move your hand to grip at a wrist that is by your face, “It’s okay-“

His voice is strained, “Oh, fuck, it’s not. I told you we would go slow,”

His eye holds guilt, but you can’t help but notice how beautiful he looks above you. No eye patch covering his features, his hair, though still pulled back, slightly messy, sharp facial features gleaming in the moonlight and the light from the fire.

He thinks you look unreal. Hair, still slightly curled, sits around you beautifully, eyes are gleaming with stars in the despite the tears from the pain still lingering, lips bruised and swollen from his own mouth.

“You can move now,” He looks unsure at your words and goes to speak his protests, but you interrupt. “Take me, husband.”

He obliges to your demand, pulling his hips back before pushing them forward. He goes slow at first, in and out at a steady rhythm, relishing in the moans and gasps and whines that leave your mouth, the chants of his name Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.

He dips his head to kiss your cheeks, down your jaw and latches onto your neck, sucking bruises into your skin as he starts thrusting deeper, harder. His pelvis grinds against your clit, and between that sensation, the pace of his thrusts when his cock hits the same spot his fingers found earlier and up to your cervix, his mouth on your neck, it doesn’t take long for your cunt to start clenching on his cock harder.

A deep groan leaves him at the way your cunt grips his cock, sucking him in and trying to keep him there forever. He would gladly stay inside you forever.

He pulls away from your neck to look at you, wanting to look at your face as you cum around his cock, as you feel his cum inside you.

Your eyes are rolled back so far he can only see the whites of them, bruises litter your collarbones and neck, marks of him all over you. Your nipples are hard and brush against his chest as your back arches while you lose yourself in the pleasure.

His balls tighten up more the longer he looks at you, and he moves his thumb to your clit, pushing you over the edge after one, two, three circles over it.

“Aemond!” Your voice sounds heavenly when you moan his name. His hips don’t falter their pace nor does his thumb stop rubbing until your cunt has loosened its vice grip on his cock. He fucks you through your orgasm and through the aftershocks before he grabs one of your legs.

You’re still shaking from your orgasm when you feel him lift your leg up and over his arm and onto his shoulder before he’s leaning over you. Your eyes shoot open at the newer, deeper angle.

“I don’t think-“

Before the sentence can leave your mouth, his hips pick up a pace very unlike the one you had just grown accustomed to. Your eyes cross as your hands shot up to his shoulders, trying to push him away and stop the overstimulation.

His head is thrown back in deep pleasure, groans and low moans of your name leaving his mouth as he listens to the wet slap, slap, slap of his body meeting yours. His pace picks up and becomes less rhythmic as his orgasm hits him.

You cry out his name with tears running down your face as your cunt clenches down for a third time, squeezing him so tightly that all he can do is push all the way in and let his cum flood you. His hips lightly move back and forth, fucking himself and you through your orgasms as you feel his cum fill you so much it starts slipping out around his cock and down your ass.

He stays inside you as your shake in the aftermath, feeling sweaty and sticky as he presses his cheek against your own, breathing you in and just feeling you for a while before he finally pull back just enough to look at you. Bodies still pressed together, cunt still plugged with his cock to hold his cum in, to make sure it takes. To make sure his son is filling you.

His eye is holding yours in a stare, and a soft smile takes over his face as you smile up at him tiredly. He feels something warm ignite in his chest as you look at him, the glow of the orgasm, the smile on your face, a sparkle in your eyes that looks like stars.

Aemond presses his mouth to yours before you can say anything. He wonders to himself if he can light your world up the way you’re already doing his.

#aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x y/n #aemond imagine #aemond smut #house of the dragon smut #hotd smut #aemond x reader smut

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wannabeschyulersister · 1 month

Text

you keep his shirt, he keeps his word

The strong aroma of coffee woke you up that morning. It confused you because you were absolutely sure that your coffee maker was still in a box somewhere. Opening your eyes, it only took you a matter of five seconds to realize that you weren’t in your new apartment.

You were in Carmen Berzatto’s bed.

What started off as a night where you were meeting your best friend’s work friends ended up with you in the bed of one of them.

You never did this kind of thing. You never met a guy at a bar and went back to his place.

There was just something about Carmen.

When Sydney first introduced you to him in that small bar near The Bear, you literally fell in love with his eyes. They were this beautiful shade of blue. You instantly got jealous of him because of them. How ordinary your eyes were compared to his.

You wanted to stay far away from him, scared that you’d do or say something stupid. He eventually made his way back towards you and the rest was history.

Sydney gave you a rundown before you met everyone. She informed you that Carmen was shy as hell and often kept to himself. She also said to not be offended if he did so.

It surprised you when he made his way towards you and struck a conversation. It started off a little slow but there was this unspoken connection that blossomed.

He was shy in a totally adorable way and super charming. Sydney and everyone else that worked with him on a near daily basis was shocked at how he was acting. They didn’t dare think that he’d be the guy to approach a woman and have an actual conversation.

You sat with him in the little corner of the bar and talked about everything. He wanted to know what made you move to Chicago. How you knew Sydney. What your favorite food was.

His last question surprised you, “Would you like to go back to my place?”

Your response surprised you the most, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Fast forward to eight hours later and you were still tangled up in his sheets. You sat up and looked around for your belongings. You quickly found your phone, purse, jeans and undergarments. The shirt you wore last night was nowhere to be found.

You grabbed the first white shirt that you saw and slipped your clothes back on.

This was all new territory to you. You had no idea what you should do. Thank him for a great evening? Give him a high five? Run out without saying anything?

The door to his bedroom was cracked open. You heard the soft sounds of the radio playing.

As quietly as you could, you walked down the hallway and made your way to the main living area. You spotted Carmen in his kitchen. Shirtless.

He was at the stove. The sizzling of the pan and the smell made your stomach growl. Carmen turned to grab a plate when he saw you standing in the doorway.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” He asked you.

You nodded, “Uh, yeah I did surprisingly.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m one of those people that has a hard time falling asleep if it isn’t in my own bed.”

“I’m glad that you were comfortable enough here to where that wasn’t a problem.” He made his way towards you and tugged on your- his shirt, “Looks good on you.”

You looked down and he still had a grip on you, “I normally don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Have one night stands. Going back to a guy’s apartment after barely meeting him isn’t really my thing.” You confessed. Part of you hoped he believed you. The other part didn’t want to be ashamed if it was something that you normally did.

One night stands weren’t something to be embarrassed about. You were a single woman who could date/hook up with anyone she wanted.

“Was this just a one night kinda thing to you?” Carmen asked.

You shrugged your shoulders, “What do you think?”

You wanted him to answer before you could. It was killing you inside to figure out what he was thinking.

“I think that last night, I met a woman that I would really like to get to know better.”

You couldn’t help but smile, “Really?”

He nodded and grinned, “Yes, really. Plus, you look great in my clothes and out of them.”

“Well that was a smooth line if I ever heard one.”

“There’s plenty more of that if you stick around with me,” Carmen leaned closer and placed a sweet kiss on your lips, “I made you breakfast.”

“You’re going to spoil me, Berzatto.” You set your purse down before taking a seat at his counter. He served you a delicious looking omelette with a cup of coffee.

“I plan to do so as long as you’ll let me. I’m a man of my word.”

#carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x (y/n)#carmen berzatto x you #the bear x reader #carmy x reader #the bear imagine #carmy berzatto

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yourbestprincess · 6 months

Note

Uhhh this is so awkward to write but erm like can you write about jealous care sex with ellie

YES OF COURSE ANON!! :D

You’re mine.

Ellie Williams x fem reader smut! Dubcon, Ellie being aggressive and protective, Ellie beating the shit out of someone, Ellie is SO jealous, fingering, scissoring, Ellie eating reader out, Els being demanding as HELL. Kinda sorta proof read, I’ll read it again later :3 have fun!

Ellie has always been the jealous type. Another girl looks at you? She’s getting death stares. If another girl touches you or better yet, flirts with you? She’s in the goddamn hospital. Ellie will do absolutely anything to help her sweet girl (you).

It was a pretty normal day, you and Ellie decided to go out shopping with you because god forbid you go out alone.

“Princess, wanna go into this store? Looks pretty cool.” She says as she points to a camping store. You giggle at such a thing. Of course Els would pick that store.

You give her your puppy eyes, “Okay, hehe.”

You guys walk into the store, and Ellies already in her own little world, looking at the hiking shoes.

After a couple minutes, another masc girl comes up to you.

“You need any help?” The girl smirks as she talks.

“I-uh…I think I’m okay.”

“You just look like a lost puppy, hun. Don’t want you to be all by yourself.” The woman places her index and thumb on your chin to force you to look at her. You turn your head to where Ellie is to get her attention. She’s already looking at you two, and she’s fucking pissed.

She walks over with a burning anger, her eyes fixated on you and her brows furrowed.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” She growls at the woman holding you.

“This your lost puppy?” She drops her hand from your face as you hide behind Ellie.

“Get the fuck off of her before I rip your goddamn face off, bitch.” At this point you can hear Ellie’s heartbeat and you can feel the heat coming off of her.

“Maybe you shouldn’t leave your puppy out on display for the people that want her.” The woman shrugs

Ellie rolls up her sleeves and swings at the woman. She pushed Ellie way too much.

“Els!” You exclaim as you hold her back. The other woman tries to fight off Ellie but Ellie is too strong. “Ellie! Enough!” Ellie gets up and wipes off her bloody knuckles off on her pants.

She throws you over her shoulder and runs out of the store. “Ellie! What are you doing?!?”

“Don’t worry about it, princess.”

Eventually both of you get to Ellies car. She drops you off in the passenger seat. You watch Ellie get into the drivers seat as she gives you a stern look. Is she…jealous..or upset?

You finally get to Ellie’s house as she demands you to get out.

“Go to my room. Now. This is your only warning, baby.” She tries to keep her composure.

You rush to her room, taking off your clothes until you’re only wearing panties, luckily you wore her favorite pair. You grab one of her shirts off the ground, throw it on, lay on her bed, and wait for her to come.

“Good girl.” She says, eyeing you down. She always turns you on when she looks at you with such lust…

“Anything for you, Els…”

She climbs onto the bed, putting herself in between your thighs. She pushes your panties to the side so that she has access to your sweet spot. She licks her middle and ring finger before ruthlessly pumping them inside of you.

“Els! Oh~ it’s too much…t’ much Ellie…” you whimper and cry out.

“Shhh, princess. You’re gonna take it like a good girl.” She growls, which makes you moan even more now.

“So good for me, baby.” She removes her fingers, making you whimper and feel empty. She licks one of her fingers. “So sweet, princess. You taste so good.”

“Ellie-“ before you can finish your words, her face is in your pussy. “Oh my- Els…”

Ellie mumbles something but it’s too muffled to hear anything. She roughly sucks on your clit while harshly fingering your g spot.

You can feel your orgasm building from everything she’s doing. “Ellie! I can’t take it! Please-“

Ellie rips her fingers out and lifts her head up. “Nope. You’re not cumming until I fucking say so.”

You go silent, obeying her. She gets off of the bed and takes her pants off. You hear the zipper of her jeans and you immediately know your gonna be crying by the end of this.

“Take those panties off. Now.” You obey, quickly sliding them off and tossing them to the side.

She gets back on the bed, pushing your legs apart and putting herself in between them. She grabs your hand and pushers your middle and ring fingers into her sopping cunt.

“Fuckkk yes, thats it princess. Tell me what you need me to do for you.” She barley makes out from getting finger-fucked by you.

“Need you to fuck me Els…please.” You look up at her and she could never say no to you when you look like this.

She positions herself to line up her pussy to yours. She starts grinding herself on you. Both of your moans fill up the room.

“Don’t you ever fucking let another girl talk to you or touch you like that. You’re mine.”

You nod you head, feeling your orgasm come close.

“Els! I’m so close, please..”

“Me too baby. Cum for me, be a good girl and cum for me sweet girl.”

As soon as she said that, both of your orgasms come crashing down, moaning in each others mouths as you kiss.

“Good job, princess. You feel so good. Sorry if I was a little rough…think I got a little jealous.”

#ellie williams smut #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie smut #the last of us smut #video game smut

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lucyandalexiafan · 2 months

Text

Need to be praised | Alexia Putellas x Jenni Hermoso x reader

Summary: after winning the most important home match of the Liga, the Clasico, it is even more clear how Alexia needs to feel loved, praised. You and Jenni plan a different evening than usual, hoping to help her.

Warnings: smut and light angst. dom!Jenni, sub!reader, sub!Alexia, oral sex, chocking on a strap, punishment (belt), safewords, daddy kink, use of pet names / slut, dirty talk, light degradation, praise.

Words: 6.6k

You enter your house, the sound of the door closing behind you.

There is silence.

Ale had fallen asleep in the back seat of the car as soon as you got into it.

The trip had been short, with some indie songs in the background.

Jenni’s hand had caressed your thigh the whole trip.

You were exhausted. You were coming back home after the umpteenth match, another match a few days after the last one. And it wasn't a normal match, it was the Clasico, the most important home game of the Liga with a sold-out stadium.

Alexia had felt the brunt of the responsibilities the most, being captain had made everything more complex, heavier.

Many, too many, responsibilities.

Moreover, there was that complex she had.

That one of no longer good enough.

Strong enough.

Talented enough.

Aitana had won everything possible.

Ale was happy for her, obviously, she had seen her grow up in Barça's youth team, she had taught her everything she could; but that doesn't mean something inside her wasn't burning, consuming her.

It wasn't envy, it was anger.

It was disappointment.

It was resentment.

Not to Tana, but to her knee.

Grudge over her ACL.

Hate for her knee, for the constant injuries she has.

And ever since Tana won the Ballon d’Or, the funny, smiling, Ale had faded away. It wasn't easy to see, to notice this constant state of pain, she was really good at hiding it. But you could tell she was tired, that she couldn't take all the pressure anymore.

She tended to vent this anxiety, this pressure, this anger, with sex, rough sex where her need for control could come out. But, because you were having so many matches and only a few days off, you couldn't, she couldn't, dedicate to yourself the time necessary to enter that necessary headspace, to even think about it.

And Ale was increasingly needy, but it was not a need to be in charge, to be the dominant one. Jenni and you talked about it two nights ago, when the blonde was at yet another technical meeting with the staff and you two were having dinner at home. She had asked you if you two could take care of Ale, to change your roles in bed for once; Jenni had pointed out that Ale really needed to receive compliments, to be told that she was good.

That she was enough.

To feel loved.

To feel appreciated.

You weren't familiar with this, much more comfortable being the good submissive, but she was right.

You take Ale's hand and pull it towards you.

You gently place your lips on hers.

You feel her relax at the contact.

Her lips are soft, sweet.

Your hand is threading through her hair, massaging her scalp.

She gasps at the contact.

“Amor, we would like to suggest something to you”

Jenni's voice interrupts your kiss.

It is low, horny.

Ale turns towards the older woman, your arms wrapping around her body.

You are in the middle of the hall.

Jenni is leaning against the kitchen doorframe, her gaze fixed on Alexia.

Sweet eyes, a barely visible smile.

You leave kisses on the Catalan's shoulder, as if to reassure her.

“We would like to take care of you, amor – she tells her as she approaches the blonde – to make you understand how perfect you are, to prove it to you”

Ale opens her eyes wide, her body tensing beneath your arms.

“You don't have to say yes if you don't want to - you add as soon as you realize how tense she is - But we thought that this could be the better moment, because we will have the next three days free"

She nods surprisingly quickly.

“I want it, please”

You stop the kisses.

Alexia always hated giving up control, always fighting also Jenni before letting it to her.

You glance at Jenni, the older woman smiles lovingly at the blonde.

“Already so good amor, my good girl” she tells her before placing her lips on the blonde’s ones.

The kiss is loving.

Romantic.

Slow.

Nothing to do with their usual kisses, the rough, passionate ones.

There is no struggle for control.

For being the one in charge.

For power.

Ale leaves to the raven the chance to direct it.

“Why don't you both go lie down in bed? I want you both naked"

You nod, taking Ale's hand, and then heading towards your room.

You take off her shirt slowly, helping her slide it over her arms, leaving chaste kisses on her chest here and there.

She moans, her hands in your hair.

Your hands grip the button on her jeans while you look at her asking for permission and, when she nods, you remove it from the buttonhole.

You push them towards her ankles and she kicks them away, leaving her only in underwear.

You quickly take off Jenni's hoodie and peel off your sweatpants.

You push her towards her bed, asking her to lie on her back, Alexia complies without responding.

A sense of tenderness invades you at the thought of how much she needs reassurance.

She lies down, head against the pillows, and you kiss her neck, the collarbones, leaving few marks along the line of the bone.

“You are so perfect Ale," you whisper before licking the skin between her breasts "So beautiful.”

She gasps, the grip on your hair harder.

“We will take care of you, you know that?" you kiss her abdomen, your lips in contact with every muscle, "You won't have to think about anything.”

She moans desperately.

“Please," she whispers, absorbed, "I beg you.”

“You are so needy, mh?”

“Yes, I need you so much,” she replies lost.

The low voice, a whisper.

Arms outstretched.

You touch the elastic of her panties with your lips.

She sighs.

"I beg you."

You slowly remove them, kissing her thighs and ankles as you go.

You observe her. The eyes are closed, her head tilted back, the lips parted while she sight, the back arched, her panting makes her chest rise maniacally.

She had never begged you.

Never.

“We have to wait for Jenni, amor," you whisper in amusement when she tries to push your head between her thighs, "Are you such a needy thing, aren't you?”

The obvious hesitation in your voice.

You don't know how far you can go.

How much can you point out that she is not in charge.

You're not even sure you know how to praise her.

She nods.

“Can you kiss me?”

The voice almost scared.

Hesitant.

Needy.

You push yourself towards her face.

You kiss her lips, the grip on your heart increases.

How insecure is she?

“Amor, I thought I said you should both be naked,” Jenni's voice fills the room.

You pant against the blonde's lips.

You kneel on the bed, your knees resting on the mattress on the side of Ale's hips.

You undo your bra, sliding it off your arms.

The captain moans beneath you, her hands squeezing your thighs, the grip almost painful.

“Take off your panties, amor, before I have to punish you – despite the loving voice, the note of dominance evident – This night is just for Alexia, isn't it?”

You nod quickly, scared of ruining everything.

To shift attention from Ale.

To stop you from taking care of her.

You stand at the foot of the bed, facing Jenni, and quickly take off your panties, letting them fall to your feet, then kicking them to your right.

You look at the floor, your head bowed, not having the courage to look the Madrilenian in her eyes.

The attention must be on Ale, but you don't know how to behave.

What to do.

What not to do.

Her feet enter your field of vision and you close your eyes when you see a hand move towards you.

She rests it on your cheek.

“I'm sorry daddy,” you whisper guiltily, cheeks burning for the embarrassment.

Ale moans openly behind you.

“It's okay amor,” she whispers before forcing your chin up, obligating you to look into her eyes “Ale is so beautiful that she’s distracting, it's normal that you've lost all sense of the rules. But don't do it again, or I'll punish you, okay?”

You nod.

“Yes daddy, I'm sorry.”

She smiles before kissing you.

It's not the sweet kiss she gave the blonde.

It's passionate.

Rough.

Her teeth bite your lip.

It's her way of showing off dominance.

To show that she is in control.

“Now I'll tell you what we'll do, okay?”

Her voice betraying not just horniness, but impatience.

Jenni loves to dominate and she loves having any form of control in bed.

“I will sit on this chair and you will put on a good show for me following my instructions, okay?”

“Yes,” you both answer in unison.

The response speed is almost astonishing.

The raven grabs your hair forcefully.

"What's my name?"

“Daddy,” you gasp in pain from the grip, "I'm sorry daddy.”

You bite your lips looking into her eyes, which are tainted by sadism. This version of Ale, this so submissive Ale, has to make her really horny.

Then, while she looks you strictly in the eyes, a grin appears on her face.

“What are your safewords?” she asks you.

“Green to continue, yellow to slow down, red to stop,” you respond.

She nods.

“Are these safewords okay for you, Alexia?”

She replies with a whispered, shy, “Yes, Jenni.”

“Can you tell me what we always say about using safewords, amor?”

“Which… that should be used if I need it,” she sighs hesitantly.

The Madrilenian smiles.

“Good girl,” she praises.

Ale and you moan in unison.

“Alexia, sit against the headboard with legs wide open - you feel Ale move, while Jenni's grip on your hair hardens - You get on your hands and knees, your back arched, your head between Alexia's legs,” Jenni directs.

She lets go of your hair, opening her hand.

She takes a step back, as if to give you enough space to do what she asked.

You look at her, lips wide open.

Does she want to punish you?

She tilts her face to the side, as if to warn you and exhort you to follow.

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“I'm sorry, daddy,” you whisper guiltily before turning towards the bed.

Are you already shifting the attention from Ale to you?

You can't look at the blonde because of the embarrassment of being naked, bent over like this, waiting for punishment.

Ale moans, her hands gripping tighten the sheet beneath her.

You rest your knees on the bed between her legs, and arch your back, shoulders brushing her thighs.

Your hands are on her thighs.

“Hands behind your back,” she commands.

You do it and try to adapt better to the position, to find a balance which in reality always turns out to be precarious.

You hear footsteps behind you, and from the way Alexia's body tenses you could swear Jenni is selecting items from the drawer.

You pant in anticipation.

A knot in your abdomen.

The smell of Alexia invades your nostrils.

You squeeze your thighs.

“Now I'll tell you how things will go,” she announces in an authoritarian tone. “Cariño, you broke the rules, so I'll spank you - her steps stop - And Alexia will decide how and how many times because she was a good girl, and good girls should be rewarded,” Jenni declares.

You moan without restraint, and the blonde does the same.

“You can decide everything, amor, how many blows, with what, if she should be tied up… everything. Because if you are good girls you can choose,” she tells her.

You bite the sheets, hands clasping together.

The nails in your palms.

Your pussy contracts around nothing, arousal starting to wet your thighs too.

“I... the belt - you widen your eyes at Ale's response - is it okay?” she asks Jenni hesitantly.

You close your eyes at the idea of the belt.

Ale loves to use it to punish you, she prefers it to any other object or the hands, while Jenni prefers hands, she says she loves the feeling of your body twitching under her touch. But when Jenni uses the belt to punish you, those few times, she does it harshly, while Ale is kinder, the blows she gives are softer, she loves to see how you jump when the belt comes into contact with the butt, not so much causing you strong pain.

“Of course, whatever you want, pretty girl,” Jenni concedes.

You groan, realizing how things are going to go.

You'll be their little toy, as always, but the dynamic is different. Jenni wanted this, she wanted you to disobey, so she could allow Ale to choose, to be in charge, praising her for every decision made under her guidance.

“How many times?”

“Ten,” the Catalan replies surprisingly confidently.

Jenni chuckles.

“You like when I punish our slut with the belt, don't you?”

“Yes, I like it,” Ale admits.

Her hands are now in your hair, and you gasp at the unexpected hold.

“Why, pretty girl?”

“Because of the noise that the belt makes when it hit her butt, because it leaves marks, because then she is always soaking wet”.

“Do you know why she is always wet?” Jenni replies to her as if you were not among them. “Because she is such a slut for us, for you.”

Ale and you gasp at the same time.

The humiliation, the degradation, which clashes with the sweet tone used with Ale.

The grip on your hair tightens, the nails penetrate the scalp.

“Please,” you whisper, not knowing whether to Ale or Jenni.

“So eager to be punished for us,” she muses.

You arch your back even more.

You hear a metallic noise, it's the buckle that makes the belt, and your body tenses in reaction.

“Do you want her tied up?”

“No - Ale replies - If-if she moves her hands-“

“Will there be more blows?”

You close your eyes at the idea.

They know that you don't know how to stay still when they punish you, that you need to be tied up if they want you not to move.

"No. Denial,” Ale pants, unable to explain herself better.

“As you wish, pretty girl.”

You clench your jaws, the opposition between the praise for Ale and the humiliation towards you is aphrodisiac, but your body is so tense that you know that the impact of the belt will be even more painful.

“Jenni, can I touch myself?”

You widen your eyes at Ale's request.

Ale doesn't ask permission to touch herself.

Ale touches herself, maybe she is then punished by Jenni, but Ale doesn't ask permission to do it. It is one of the most bratty behaviors that the blonde uses against the older woman.

The request probably also leaves Jenni dumbfounded, who is slow to respond.

“Please, I'll be good, I won't come without your permission.”

You moan.

You had never seen Ale so submissive, so in need of praise, to be good for Jenni.

“You can touch yourself, amor, but with this,” she says as you hear her walking. “And you can't come without my permission.”

Her hands leave your hair.

You try to look at her.

She leans over your body while Jenni gives her something, an object, that you recognize as a vibrator when you hear the sound of a vibration.

One of her hands comes to rest between her legs, the vibrator against her clit, the other one on her breast, starting to play with a nipple.

Then, the first blow hits your butt.

You scream in surprise, at the pain.

The body that tenses, moves towards Alexia's thighs.

“One, daddy, thank you,” you reply automatically like every time you get punished.

You hear her grinning.

Then another shot.

You groan.

“Two, daddy, thank you.”

The pain already starting to invade you and she continues to hit you with this force for the next five blows.

Alexia's moans invade the air.

“Can I… a finger,” she gasps, her thoughts disarranged.

“Yes amor, you can. Fuck yourself for me”

Ale moans, a grating moan, then you see her stick a finger inside herself.

You bite the sheet and, before you understand what you are doing, you place your hands on the mattress.

"You're such a slut who always wants to be the center of attention," the raven girl says angrily behind you "This was supposed to be Ale's night, but not only did you get to be punished, but you broke another time the rules"

You gasp, closing your eyes in humiliation, and try to fix your situation by repositioning your hands on your back, in the position you were supposed to hold. You hope it's enough, but you know it's not.

“I'm sorry daddy,” you whisper guiltily.

“Mm, really?” the teasing tone, the hands squeezing your ass between your fingers. "you're such an exhibitionist slut that I might think you were putting on a show for Alexia. Do you like it, pretty girl?”

Her hands are on your ass, squeezing the flesh, on the places where bruises will probably show up, and you groan in pain.

“Yes Jenni, so much.”

You gasp.

Usually, the dynamic is inverse. You're the good one, the one who gets praised, Ale is the one who breaks the rules on purpose to annoy Jenni.

The blonde's moans are getting closer and closer together, the hand that moves fastest inside her and she plays with the vibrator against her clit.

“Do you want to come, pretty girl?”

She pants, she begs her.

A blow, hard, impacts your ass.

You move forward, your body contracted by pain.

It hurts more than all the others, and is the same for the other two. You gasp, tears in your eyes.

“Can I come, Jenni? Please, I was good for you”

“Come for me, love,” Jenni's voice surprisingly gentle. "come for me, my perfect girl.”

Alexia comes screaming, her body shaking around you as she lives it to the end. she then turns off the vibrator, dropping it absentmindedly to her side.

"Jenni" you moan, your voice unsure, trembling, without really know what you want.

The pain pervades your body, your hands grab the sheet, clenching it between fists. You know you're breaking the rules again, but you need to touch something, to grip something, in an attempt to alleviate that pain.

You know it's Alexia's night, that you're there for her, that she needs to be praised, but you're not sure if this is the direction you want the night to take. The way she had squeezed your cheeks between her hands suggests how the evening could take a more sadistic turn, and less caring, and you're not sure if you want that.

The idea of being their toy makes you horny, the idea of being used turns you on, but you need to be praised too, to be told that you're good too.

You hear Ale's breathing calm down, Jenni bending over your body to kiss her. You lift your head, watching from below as their lips collide, as the blonde's hands end up in her hair, and as the raven grins against her.

You bite your lip, not knowing if you want to interrupt the moment or if it's better to let it continue.

"My pretty girl," the Madrilenian whispers as she moves away from Alexia, standing up again at the foot of the bed, "My two good girls," she says, her hand touching your back rubbing her nails lightly on it.

You gasp, the praise finally arrived, the kind lovely contact.

Your thighs clench in response.

"Amor, can you lie on your back?"

You do as she asked, without talking back, your skin burning at the contact with the fabric of the sheet, your hesitant hands ending up on Ale's shins, your gaze avoiding the one of the older woman.

"You're forgiven, amor," Jenni whispers before kneeling on the bed, her knees to the sides of your hips, "My good girl."

Then, finally, she kisses you. A slow, loving kiss and your hesitant hands draw her to you, seeking comfort. One of her hands lands on your cheek, thumb gently caressing your skin, the other on Alexia's thigh.

"Are you okay?" she asks softly once she moves away from your lips, her gaze trained on yours, her eyes sweet, a shy smile shapes her face.

"Yes daddy - you answer, your voice still trembling - Another kiss?"

The blonde moans at the sight of you two, between her legs, kissing.

Jenni takes her time to kiss you, her tongue licking your lower lip, her teeth nibbling your lips, then kissing the skin of your jaw, your neck.

She sucks a portion of skin above your collarbone, leaving you a dark red hickey, and you move your hands through her hair, your legs now bent on themselves tightening her body to you.

She grins, then bites the skin of your chest multiple times, leaving various marks next to the first.

"Daddy," you gasp again.

"What, little one?" she asks, her face now reclined towards you, her black eyes staring into yours.

You blush under her gaze.

"Please daddy touch me."

She licks her lower lip, then returns to kiss your chest, moving towards your breast. She bites your right nipple, one hand gripping the left between her fingers.

You arch your back towards her, your head brushing against the inner thigh of Alexia; and that's how two fingers of one hand of the blonde, that were gripping her thighs, end up against your mouth. She pushes them beyond your lips, against your tongue, and you gasp surprised at the intrusion. You tilt your head towards her, giving her more access to your mouth, and try to lick them.

You look into her eyes as she moves her fingers inside up to the last knuckle, thus reaching the back of your throat and making you gag.

Jenni, hearing the noise, stops kissing you.

You feel her observing you, and you have confirmation when Ale shifts her gaze from you to above you.

She smiles shyly.

The brunette gets up on her knees, moves them towards Ale, crawling on the bed, then kisses her again.

You moan at the lack of contact, at the cold hitting the saliva she left on your chest.

The blonde's fingers stop, entirely inside your mouth, the moment the older one's lips land on hers.

"Keep moving them," Jenni orders, and she does, moving them faster, "Like that, good girl, fuck her mouth."

You gasp, almost choking, when they hit the back of your throat rhythmically. You squeeze the raven's thighs with your hands as you push yourself a little further toward the end of the bed, seeking a more comfortable position.

"Do you want to fuck her mouth with the strap-on, pretty girl?" the brunette asks her.

Your eyes widen at the idea.

"Yes-yes Jenni, please."

Jenni leans in one last time, kissing her lips softly, then gets up from the bed again. You hear her walks back towards the cabinet and open the drawer; Ale's hand, wet from your saliva, is now resting against your cheek, the thumb caressing your skin.

You turn your head, your cheek against the mattress, and then absentmindedly kiss her inner thigh with your lips open, knowing how sensitive that part of her body is. And sure enough, she moans and you feel her other hand move from her thigh to your hair, squeezing it.

“So beautiful,” Jenni murmurs so softly that you almost don't hear her "My perfect girls".

You hear her walking to the side of the bed, and then sitting next to Ale.

You see her kiss her neck, and the blonde tilts her head back against the wall, giving her more space.

“Shall I help you put it on? - she asks, without really expecting an answer - Amor, lie on your stomach"

You roll onto your side, then onto your stomach, groaning at the feeling of the cold air against your cheeks.

You look at Jenni, she's still fully dressed, her shirt sleeves rolled up and the top buttons open, hair gathered in a low ponytail that leaves the shorter tufts free.

She helps the younger to wear the strap-on, her hands skimming Alexia's thighs, and you moan in anticipation.

“Move more towards Alexia - she orders when the blonde has finished preparing, her thighs even more open - Your head must be perfectly aligned with the strap-on. Exactly, like that, good girl” she praises you.

You moan, looking at her, but she's focusing on the blonde, her hand squeezing the woman's jaw, forcing her to look at her, then licking her bottom lip.

"Ready?"

The blonde nods and leans towards Jenni, her lips pressed carefully to hers, as if trying to figure out if the raven is okay with her resourcefulness. The older woman kisses her back, her hand on her cheek.

You moan, the pain between your legs growing more and more. The desire to touch yourself, to move your hand there and reach your orgasm, makes you squeeze the blonde's thighs tighter in an attempt not to do it, to be good for them.

“Alexia, you won't be able to touch her, I will decide the pace - Jenni's hand ends up in your hair, caressing it - Cariño, remember that if it's too much you have to tap Alexia's thigh three times and I will stop immediately, understand?”

You nod, your gaze fixed on the dildo. It's bigger than the one you normally use for oral sex, you bite your lip hesitantly.

“Words, not gestures” she warns you.

"Yes, daddy" the voice unsure, hesitant.

“I know you can take it all the way, be a good girl for me” Jenni urges you, her hand that applies enough pressure to push you to take it in your mouth.

You open your lips when the tip of the dildo touches them. Alexia moans in response, her hands gripping the sheet in an attempt not to touch you, not to break the rules.

The hand in your hair applies more pressure, pushing you to take more into your mouth. When you take about half of it into your mouth you moan, the choking sensation creeping in and you feel your hair being pulled upwards.

“Relax your throat, I want you to take it all in your mouth” you hear her order, and then apply pressure again.

You try to breathe through your nose, the saliva pouring out of your mouth uncontrollably as you take in more than half, the tip hitting your throat, making you squirm.

“Shhh, stay still - you close your eyes trying to calm your breathing and breathe through your nose, your hands gripping Alexia's thighs more tightly - Good girl. Now move on it, like this, yeah,” she instructs, pushing her hand up, relieving the pressure, and then applying it again.

You go on like this for a while, the blonde's moans are the only other sound besides what you make.

“Do you like seeing her choke on your cock, pretty girl?”

“Yes… yes Jenni” she replies quickly, her voice breathless.

You close your eyes when the hand puts more pressure on the back of your neck, pushing you to take even more into your mouth, until you come into contact with the harness. The tears wetting your cheeks.

The moan that comes out of Ale's mouth is so grating, so low, that you've never heard it before.

Then, Jenni's hand pushes you upwards, until you no longer have the dildo in your mouth.

You moan for air, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to the strap-on.

“My good slut, so good at sucking cocks. We should just use you for this, right?” her thumbs clean your cheeks “making you my cock slut, used only for this, mh?”

You contract your thighs, rub them against each other, in an attempt to give yourself a minimum of pleasure.

“Now go back and suck it as the good slut I know you are, do you understand?”

“Yes, daddy,” you reply, then place your head back on top of the dildo.

Your lips surrounding it, her hand pushing you back down until you take more than half of it into your mouth. She leaves you like this for a second, and then begins to set a fast, frenetic pace.

You whine as you feel the blonde's thighs contracting rhythmically under your hands every time you lower your head.

“Jenni… Jenni, can I come? Please, I was so good”

“Come for me Ale” she orders while her hand pushes you to the base.

You choke on it, your saliva wetting her thighs as Jenni forces you to move rhythmically on it.

The base of the dildo that put pressure on her clit, her moans getting closer and closer.

“I’m coming… I’m-“

You feel her coming, her thighs contracting beneath you as you hear her scream, the madrilenian's hand continues to push you towards the base of the dildo, allowing her to fully ride out the orgasm.

“St-stop” Ale pants, and the hand quickly disappears from your hair.

You immediately pull away, moaning at the feeling of air in your lungs, saliva binding you to the fake cock, tears in your eyes. You cough a couple of times gasping for air.

“Look at me” the Madrilenian orders you and, when you do, her hand moves towards the saliva, wetting four fingers, and then spreading it on your cheeks.

“Our slut, so obedient. My cock slut”

She grins as you take a finger into your mouth, sucking it down to the base. Her eyes widen slightly, surprised by your boldness.

Alexia turns her head towards her, kisses her neck, sucks some portion of her skin.

“No marks, Alexia”

“Mhmh” the younger one replies distractedly as she continues to kiss her neck.

You take you off her finger with a snap.

“Please daddy, I was so good… fuck me”

She grins looking at you, almost as if Ale wasn't kissing her.

“Yes daddy, fuck her” the blonde supports you, whispering those words directly into contact with her skin.

Jenni's eyes widen when the blonde calls her that.

She bites her lip, her hand ends under your neck. “Come here, sit on my lap”

You rush to do it, hoping for contact.

“Kiss Alexia” she orders you and, without wasting time, you turn towards the blonde and place your lips on hers.

It's a slow, passionate kiss, done just to put on a show, a private show for Jenni, just for her.

“My good girls” she pants as you feel her lips touching your neck, one hand grabbing your breast, the other on your butt.

You break away from the kiss and then look into Jenni's eyes, your fingers move toward her shirt.

“Can I undress you daddy?” I ask shyly, hoping for an affirmative answer.

She looks at you, eyes trained on yours; you try to make the cutest puppy eyes and, caught up in trying to convince her, you move your lips to her sensitive spot, the one under her earlobe.

“Please, daddy, I was so good for you”

“Okay,” she replies, and you smile against her.

You kneel, a couple of feet away from her body. Your hands grab one button after another, undoing them from the buttonholes, and then you help her remove the shirt, leaving her chest bare, her breasts covered by a simple black bra.

You look at her body, get lost in observing her tattoos, her defined muscles, and touch the straps of her bra.

She unhooks it, letting it fall onto her lap.

You bite your lip in front of her swollen nipples, you want to kiss them, lick them, but you know that to do so you have to have her permission.

“Can you undo my pants?” she asks you, urging you to do so.

You nod, your hands moving down to the waistband of her pants, undoing them and pulling down the zipper.

Jenni pushes them, and her underwear, towards her knees and you crawl backward, pulling them towards her ankles, then throwing them on the floor.

“Take the black strap from the drawer,” she orders, and you quickly move toward the cabinet.

You hear her tell Alexia to take off the harness and lie down on her stomach, immediately followed by noises.

“Good girl”

You turn around and see her lying between her legs, her head against her chest, the younger girl's hands are in the raven's hair, her head tilted back.

“So sensitive”

You bite your lip at the sight, the pain in your belly getting stronger, more and more needy to have an orgasm.

Alexia moans when the brunette bites her nipple, but she doesn't have time to realize it because the older one moves further and further down, toward her pelvis.

“My perfect girl”

You are standing, in front of the cabinet, not knowing what to do, what to say.

“Amor, lie down next to Alexia, on your stomach, legs open. Give me the strap”

Quickly you lie down next to Alexia, hoping for contact, for relief.

Jenni grins at the sight of your desperation, at the sight of how needy you are.

“Kiss her” she orders you.

You place your lips on hers, a hesitant, sweet, light kiss, as if you were afraid of hurting her. Your hand on her cheek, thumb caressing her skin, and she bites your lip, pulling it towards her, making you gasp.

“Daddy please” you beg, in a moment of pause in the kiss, your forehead against Alexia's one.

You look at the raven woman and find her wearing the strap-on.

“Here's what we'll do now: I'll fuck Alexia, while you kiss her, and then, if you deserve it, I'll fuck you”

You look at her pleadingly.

You need to be touched, to come, to have attention.

"Daddy, please"

"Safeword?"

You swallow your saliva not knowing how to respond. You know you don't need to stop, you want to see Alexia get fucked by Jenni, but you also know you need physical contact. You don't want to be selfish, shift the attention onto yourself, Jenni has said several times that this was supposed to be Alexia's night and you need to be her good girl, to be praised for it, but you need to be touched, to feel loved.

"Amor?" she asks, her voice softest, as she kneels on the bed, her knees on either side of your body.

“Yellow,” you whisper without looking into her eyes, scared to see disappointment there.

“Do you need us to stop?”

You shook your head quickly. "I... can I come then? Please Daddy, I'll be good, I swear"

She smiles, her lips kissing yours. "Yes, little girl. Be my good perfect girl and I'll give you the best orgasm of your life, mh?”

You swallow saliva at the praise, at the promise of relief.

"No more teasing? Promise?" you ask.

She grips your jaw gently, forcing you to look at her. "Look at me, little girl. I promise. And if it's too much you stop me, okay? Do you promise me?"

You blush under her serious yet sweet gaze.

"Promise" you whisper, then you turn your head towards the blonde and go back to kissing her, a more passionate, rougher kiss.

You hear Jennie laughing while she gets up and then positions herself between Ale's legs, her fingers teasing her folds, moving inside her with a slow rhythm. “Ready, pretty girl?”

"Please Jenni, please-"

And, without waiting for other words or begs, she enters her.

Alexia arches her back in response, her head tilted towards the wall. Your lips attach to her neck, you kiss it, you bite it; you move one hand towards her breast, playing with the nipple.

The blonde moans as Jenni begins to move into her slowly, giving her time to adjust.

But you don't have time, you want to have your orgasm, be touched, be fucked.

You turn her face towards you, your lips on hers again, and you pull her nipple harder, passing tell between your fingers.

When Jenni starts to move with a fast, sharp, pace, Alexia pulls away from you, her hands on Jenni's back, her legs around her body, her lips against hers.

You bite your lip as you look at them.

The older one moves at a faster and faster pace, while the blonde moans closer and closer, more and more desperately.

The pain in your belly increases at this sight, desire burns inside you.

“Are you closed,?” she asks, her voice low, hoarse, even if it seems more like a statement.

"Yes, yes daddy, I'm closed - Alexia moans uncontrollably, her head tilted back - may I come? please daddy, make me cum”

You contract your thighs hearing her beg, hearing her calling Jenni daddy. You push towards her neck, kissing it, while Jenni kisses the other side.

“Cum for me amor” she whispers against her ear.

Alexia, shortly after, arches her back even more, a scream leaving her lips, her eyes closed and her forehead wet with sweat.

Jenni continues to move into her until her orgasm is over, then slowly pulls out of her.

She kisses her lips, her cheeks. “My perfect girl, you did so good”

The blonde gasps, unable to form any thoughts, any sentences. Her chest rhythmically contracting, her breathing quickening.

“Lie on your stomach, on your elbows and knees” Jenni orders, without even looking at you, while still kissing Alexia.

As if awakened from a stupor, execute quickly. Your back arched obscenely, your head close to Alexia's, your hands above your head, your legs open.

“Fucking soaked, who would have thought that our slut likes to look as well as be looked at”

Her voice is low, hoarse, and she says it while her finger grazes your folds, from your clit to your hole.

You arch your back even more, seeking contact.

“Daddy, please, ple-aaa” you scream when her lips press against your folds, her tongue exploring it, teasing your clit.

You clench the sheets in your fists, rhythmically push your body towards her, seeking relief, seeking your orgasm.

You feel her finger rest against your hole, then enter you effortlessly, and then another.

“So soaked - hand moving, straight away, furiously - My slut”

“Yes… yes daddy, your slut”

She bites your cheek, and you groan in pain.

“Please, I beg you… please daddy”

She smiles against your skin, a third finger adding.

You push towards her quickly, sprawling, the orgasm advancing in you.

You feel it.

“Are you closed?”

You nod into the mattress.

“Yes daddy, please, can I come?”

She bites your ass, then removes her fingers from you, but you don't even have time to notice because her cock enters you.

You scream with pleasure.

One of her arms ends up around your neck, forcing you to your knees, your back against her body.

She immediately moves fast, hard, inside you.

“My slut, only mine. So needy, so desperate”

"Yes... yes daddy" You moan, not knowing what to say to her.

She tightens her grip around your neck, her other hand pinching a nipple, the thrusts more and more frantic, faster, while she moans against your ear.

"Wait for me to come"

You close your eyes and shake your head. “I can’t, daddy I can’t… please”

“Wait me, be my perfect girl” she replies as she fucks you even harder.

You contract your body in an attempt to slow the orgasm that is building within you. “Please daddy, please”

"Cum, cum for me”

#woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #jenni hermoso #jenni hermoso smut #jenni hermoso x reader #jenni hermoso fanfics #jenni hermoso imagine #alexia putellas fanfics #alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas #Alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine

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rippersz · 2 months

Text

𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆'𝒔 𝑨 𝑫𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Larissa Weems x Reader x Alcina Dimitrescu (NSFW; Double Penetration; Lewd Language; BDSM; Mommy Kink; Breeding; G!P)

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

It’s too much.

It’s way too much.

Too much touching, too much pleasure, too much passion.

It’s all warm bodies, panting breaths, deep growls, small whimpers, and so much heat that you feel faint with it. They have you stuck in between, held up and hovering over thick thighs while two sets of strong hips alternate powerful thrusts. In and out. In and out. In… out… Easy and light for the two of them as sharp nails leave deep indents in the flesh of your ass, clenching and unclenching. She shoulders most of the weight, the taller of your two lovers, while she takes her fill. Insatiable and dark. Hard, fast, and rough. There’s grunts that pour past your ear and fan against the sensitive skin of your neck, creating the most precious addictive harmony as she scrapes razor-sharp fangs along the soft flesh of your trapezius. Skirting around the very edge of pain. She knows you fear it. She knows you’re waiting. Fortunately, she’s already made up her mind. The feeding will be for another night- or perhaps later, when you’re passed out on the bed between them, plugged to keep the warmth of their cum from spilling out of your pretty body. She’s unbelievably excited about that if the flex of her hips and strong steady hold is anything to go by. It’s a sweet gesture in the long run, keeping you in place so that the woman in front of you, grasping onto your lower thighs, can have an easier time using you for pleasure.

And she is. Absolutely.

Larissa’s porcelain skin is flushed pink with desire, spreading all the way down to the milky expanse of her bare chest. She’s huffing, her beautiful red lips parted with a sense of disbelief while her eyes, blown dark with an appreciative pupil, lock themselves onto the sensitive place where your bodies meet. She studies your venus mound, the soft curls wetted by your desire, and licks her lips without thought while you watch the hypnotizing roll of her torso. In and out… in and out… smooth and easy and deep enough to make both of you exhale soft moans and whimpers on each thrust. She doesn’t have the stamina Alcina does, but that’s why your draconic lover takes most of the force… and most of the resistance. Their difference in size, in moments like this, is terribly noticeable. You feel it in their hands, in the closeness of their chests and their heights, even while kneeling on the bed, and in the thick of their cocks as they grind into you from both ends.

Filling all that they can, for all that they’re worth, and enjoying the sounds of your broken cries.

“P-please- can’t!- Sens-sensitive!” You scream, vision blurring with hot tears as they continue their evil dance.

Alcina is absolutely fucking punishing. You’re not sure how you’re going to walk comfortably come morning with the way she smacks against your backside. She’s obviously not shy and only finds a sick sort of enjoyment in your answering sobs whenever she whispers how tight you are for her. How desperate. Clenching around both of their lengths like a needy depraved little slut.

And Larissa, who listens with sharp ears and responds with appreciative moans, can only watch and partake in her own lewd show as she sees the way Alcina hovers over you. Making eye contact with those golden fires, feeling adored beneath the heavy heat that comes with the constant stare your taller lover gives her. Eyes raking over the softness of her breasts, the hickies on the swell of her ribs, the golden curls at the base of her cock… Slightly smaller than Alcina’s, and tinged pink with delight as it moves in and out of you with fervor. Stretching with ease as you take her right to the hilt over and over and over. It feels like a piece of Heaven all on its own, plucked right from the stars, as Larissa looks up from beneath her lashes and bats her eyes at Alcina. Her cock throbs, wild with pleasure, as it fills you swiftly- and she takes that moment to pause. The lull barely has time to confuse you before Larissa is leaning closer, pressing your chests together in warm, hazy damp delight, so she can bring her lips right up to your-... shoulder. Over your shoulder. To meet the pull of Alcina’s body as her bountiful chest, soft and gentle, pins itself to the contours of your back. You can almost feel the heavy thump of her heart.

“Kiss me, darling,” Alcina breathes quickly, her voice a deep pleasant rumble brushed against Larissa’s lips. They keep themselves inside of you, prolonging the ache in your body as they kiss. Slow and sensual, red lips opening and parting, pink tongues licking into each other with languid strokes. Eyes closed, suspended in bliss, throats bobbing with the most erotic moans. You can only watch, entranced and bewitched, as a strong shiver races down your spine. You quake in their shared hold and shift your gaze to see- Oh. Gold. Striking gold, glowing beneath a heavy lid, watching you with cloying amusement. It’s embarrassing to be seen in such a needy state, blushing and clenching and eager for whatever they can give you… you want to hide away, but you have nowhere to go. They’re so warm, so strong, and kissing so lovingly.

Alcina’s eye closes as she loses herself in your other lover’s sweet mouth, and the desperation in your body only shoots to unbearable heights as the attention is stolen away.

“Please,” you whimper. Give it to me. Anything. Fuck me until I pass out and you can’t control yourselves anymore. Please. Anything. I love you.

Larissa is the first to pull away. She’s slow, letting Alcina steal one last moan from her lungs, before she’s settling back onto her heels and licking the spit from her lips. Slow and appreciative. You figure they both taste like wine and sex and your body begins to squirm without much thought–completely taken by the envious nature that swells in your heart.

Kiss me too. Please. Please, kiss me too.

“Poor thing…,” your lover whispers, her breath like a cool balm against your heated skin. You nod immediately, trying to garner some appreciation, some sympathy, and lean your head back to rest on Alcina’s collarbone. She feels so strong behind you, still holding your legs without even a tremor in her forearms - and keeping you open for Larissa, who ducks to nuzzle against your neck. “Have we been neglecting you?” She asks in a murmur, the words flowing like individual pieces of silk from her cherry lips.

You nod, quickly, and bring your hands up from your thighs to rest over her shoulders. A small tug has her settling closer, pressing so far into you that no space slips between your bodies. Chests kissing and hips locked, the sweat on her skin glistens beneath firelight.

The hearth is proudly lit and burning away, flickering with shadows that dance across your sinful tango. Everything smells of perfume and sex and you’re eager to feel them moving again. Alcina is starting to hurt, aching so much within her nestled spot that you try to adjust - but her hands only dig into your thighs with renewed vigor. She doesn’t want you to escape. She doesn’t want you to leave. You feel the burn and you stay there for them, because tonight that’s your job.

Larissa’s little pet. Alcina’s little fucktoy. That’s usually how it goes.

And the sweet peck that the former gives you a moment later, lingering in the space between your eyebrows, sparks a little whimper to run from your throat. It’s a raw sound, betraying your need, and you watch as Larissa’s eyes soften. She is always so weak for you—never able to keep up the mean façade for very long. She can tease like a motherfucker, but the near punishing pace Alcina often sets is not something she can always adapt to. So she loves as she does now, kissing every bit of your face that she can reach, letting out soft moans that make your mouth water. And when you try moving to capture her lips, lazily twisting your head, she backs away. A terrible game of cat and mouse. A form of torture that has you in near tears because goddammit you just need them to DO something alread-

“Hngh!” A strained, choked sound, taken from the very depths of your eager soul, splits the heavy air.

It’s tinged with pain, overwhelmed with pleasure, as Alcina’s cock, in all of its big glory, drags out of your hole and slams back in.

“Fuck,” you hear her low murmur before the rest of her appreciation is drowned out by Larissa’s gasp.

She’s clearly very sensitive, instantly shutting her eyes in undeniable bliss as the motions of your dance start up again. Alcina grinds easily, producing the dirtiest sounds as the meat of her thighs slaps against your ass. And no moan is stifled. No growl is hidden. She wants you to hear her. She knows how much it makes you throb, and when that happens, she knows it pleasures them both. And that’s part of it, of course. A common point of teasing. She pulls out certain reactions from you so you can please Larissa. Your sweet angel. Bucking her hips like she is now, a mad woman made by your own hands. White hair in disarray, chest painted in lipstick and light bruises, legs shaking with need.

They stretch you so well… The perfect fits for your body. Even if it hurts. Even if, occasionally, you wince. It doesn’t matter. You’re just so warm… So easy… Constantly ready to drop to your knees if they ask. Always in the mood to give yourself up. It’s just as Alcina says:

“Such an eager little whore for your Mommies, aren’t you darling?”

Yes. Yes, you are.

“Mhm… Our pretty little cocksleeve…”

God, yes.

“Isn’t that right, Larissa? Such a good princess we have, hm?”

The response is a deep purr. “Without a doubt, my love. So… oh gods, fuck… so obedient…”

Very. The most obedient. No choice but to be. Doesn’t matter. You’re a good princess. Best cocksleeve. All for them. Pretty Mommies…

Out there, you are more than this. You are something perhaps a bit more human. A bit more independently functional. You are expected to do things. Told to be mightier. Conditioned to work and provide and never rest.

But here…

Oh here you are nothing but a means to an end. A hole to fill as your lovers, all red lips and aureate eyes crashing into sapphires, black and white hair in complete contrast, fuck you at their own paces. Staring at each other over your shoulder, hearts in their pupils, while they use you like the two-holed toy in between. Your pleas go unanswered. Your tears go unlicked.

They use your body like they’ve spent their whole lives waiting to. And your body accepts them. Eager for their care, their love, the heat that they want to fill you with.

“Cum with me, Larissa.” In your foggy haze, you hear Alcina pant. “Please,” she begs, a sweet sound you rarely get to hear, “Help me- hngfuckfuck- f-fill our little girl.”

The term of endearment has you exploding in goosebumps, growing stiff with the amount of times your cunt squeezes around Larissa’s length in the span of only a few moments. It’s addicting, this position. This intimacy. The mind-numbing passion that follows in the wake of their rapid, eager thrusts. An easy tell for the bliss you’re about to feel.

“Yes- yesyesyesyesyes!- Al-cina-!” Your fair-haired lover squeaks as she doubles over, presses her forehead into your neck, and pumps her hips erratically. The shiver flows through her veins and comes to a head, quick and hard, as she crumbles inside of you.

Alcina, delighted by the show of those blue eyes rolling back in pleasure, follows without preamble. Her thrusts are mad, lost in their forgotten timing, and descend into short bursts of strength as she works herself all the way inside and finally gives into the electricity that floats into her body.

The feeling of their breasts pressed to your front and back, heaving with the love you’ve given them, the Heaven that’s been taken, is enough to send you into a small orgasm of your own. It’s a weak pulse of your body, too tired and hazy to register anything but the thick warm cum that floods you. Spilling and spilling until you’re nearly certain that it’s all going to dribble out onto the length of their cocks as soon as they pull out, and then dirty the bedspread.

But really who gives a fuck about the bedspread?

They’ll just buy another set, rich and expensive and softer than feathers.

And then ruin that one too.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Drops dead - Rip x

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Too tired for tags... waaaa...

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ikaroux · 1 year

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How are they with their pregnant companion? Capitano, Kaveh + Bonus.

Synopsis: Pregnant, your husband/partner is over the moon. But how would he take care of you during pregnancy?

Style: Cute, fluffy, female reader.

Bonus NSFW (18+) I remind minors to avoid reading this kind of content.

Alert: May contain story spoilers for some characters.

Characters: Capitano, Kaveh + 1 Bonus rewrite.

Note: Did you notice that with this series, I work by paragraph? I try to make a maximum of 14 paragraphs per character and 4 or 5 for the NSFW part. Did you know that a pregnant woman's sexual appetite actually decreases during pregnancy? But I assume that this is not the case for all women, and our genshin men are so sexy, how could we resist them?

Since I now have an AO3 account, I decided to rewrite the first versions of this series to post them on it. I hope you'll still enjoy them.

Part 1 Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya, Xiao, Venti, Albedo, Kazuha, Childe.

Part 2 Scaramouche, Dainsleif, Thomas.

Part 3 Dottore, Pantalone, Alhaitham.

Part 4 Cyno, Ayato.

Part 5 Tighnari.

"No one is allowed to enter ma'am."

The Fatui guards blocked your way, preventing you from reaching your companion. "I must see Capitano, it's important." You tried your luck again, trying to force your way through, but the two men, clearly stronger than you, pushed you back as if you weighed nothing. One of them wrapped his hand around your arm, the iron grip he put on it making you wince in pain. "Our captain is not seeing anyone today." And he shoved you violently backwards, causing you to fall. "You brute! Let me in! I'm his fiancé!" The two men looked at each other for a few seconds before a loud laugh escaped from them. You looked at them with bewildered eyes, pondering what was funny about what you had said. The larger of the two was the first to calm down, stepping forward calmly before bending down to grab your already sore arm. He lifted you up violently, pulling you towards the exit. "Enough joking, get out where I should show more… Firmness." You were ready to scream in order to alert your lover, until a squeak from his colleague got your attention. The man manhandling you was stopped by a strong hand on his shoulder and when he turned around, he could only see that his captain, your fiancé, was standing behind him, a menacing aura emanating from him. "Lo-Lord Capitano, this woman she-" Capitano's hand came down on his subordinate's wrist, applying a force to it that forced the soldier to release you. "Silence, wait for me here. We'll discuss what just happened later." The man shuddered, stepping aside to let Capitano pass as he gallantly guided you to his office. Once the two of you were alone, you threw yourself into his arms, thanking him for helping you. The man returned your embrace, caressing your back with great gentleness. "I'm sorry for what just happened. What are you doing here my sweet? You should have told me you were coming to see me." You smiled at him as you pulled away from his embrace. Taking his hands in yours, you placed them on your stomach with a bright smile on your face… "You'll be a father soon…" Capitano remained silent for a long time, his masked face still turned to his hands. O Tsaritsa, he was going to have to be much more cruel to the one who had abused you in front of his door. Capitano slowly removed his mask, exposing his battle-scarred features, and then lifted you off the floor, placing you on his incredibly tidy desk. He leaned in, placing kiss after kiss on your lips…

Capitano didn't want a child. War, fighting, the cruelty of this world and death were part of his daily life. But you changed his world. With you, he discovered love, the warmth of a home and the happiness of a family. He quickly imagined himself with his baby in his arms, although an illogical fear was born in his heart. It would be so small compared to him. Did his hands, covered in blood, have the right to touch such a frail and defenseless being? Fortunately, you were by his side to reassure him and guide him toward the future that awaited you both.

Unfortunately, your beloved captain often had to leave for missions entrusted to him by the Tsaritsa. He was never reluctant to leave to accomplish his duty, even if he had to go away from you… He missed you, no doubt, but Capitano was a committed man, faithful to the justice he believed in. But now that you were pregnant, every time he had to leave, his heart was heavy with sorrow. What if something happened to you while he was away? He would ask his superior, Pierro, to watch over you, even from a distance, so that he could leave with peace of mind.

Capitano was already very protective of you. Pregnancy has only strengthened this affectionate side that he usually hid from the world. Believe it or not, you don't want to know what he can do to those who want to hurt you…

When you both sleep, you have taken the habit of curling up against him. Capitano is a light sleeper, and the slightest movement puts him on alert. By the time sleep takes over, he will look at you for a long time, wrapping an arm around your waist and then touching your stomach. He could see that it had become slightly rounded. A peaceful smile spread across his face as he kissed your head resting on his chest with a sigh of contentment.

As soon as he has some time to himself, Capitano will gladly agree to do some shopping with you for the birth of the child. This tall man with an impressive build tended to stand out in the stores, especially since he refused to go out without his mask. However, you kept your cheerful nature, presenting baby clothes with a big smile on your face to your companion who stood beside you, one hand resting tenderly on your lower back, admiring your every move.

Capitano likes to position himself behind you to put his big hands on your belly. He may be content to stay that way, looking over your shoulder while you go about your business. Tender kisses on your neck and jaw will make you smile with amusement and tenderness as he caresses your lower belly, feeling at times the movements of his child…

A little habit that you both have developed: the bath. A privileged moment between the two of you, allowing you to enjoy the warmth and contact of your companion while Capitano savored the sight of your body transforming little by little. He was probably the one who enjoyed this intimacy the most, knowing full well that no one would come and disturb you. His tender and loving side came out wonderfully as he held you in his arms.

Capitano does not want to talk about you and his unborn child with other Harbingers. Other than Pierro, he doesn't trust others enough to keep you safe. He was not fooled about Pulcinella, the man hiding dark ambitions. Arlecchino was a manipulator with a heart of ice, a form of madness eating away at her. The rest of the executors were no better… Perhaps he could make an exception with the eleventh? He had never spoken to him, but he thought Tartaglia would probably be good advice with the children…

Your companion had a very soft, calm and steady voice. Every time he talked to you, you could feel the baby react to the sound of his voice. When you told him, Capitano just smiled, looking away from you. Was it a blush you could see on his ears?

Capitano will be less stingy with his tender words when he's alone with you. Your pregnancy seems to have softened him up a lot and he'll find it much easier to express his feelings towards you. Every "I love you" or "I missed you" he says will be a real treasure for you.

Capitano will be a strict but loving father. He will dedicate his life to his child and of course to you. He will do his best not to be a burden to his son/daughter, as his reputation as the strongest man in all of Teyvat may weigh down such small shoulders.

NSFW Bonus

Capitano would keep his distance from you to prevent his carnal needs from doing you more harm than good. He knew he was rough and sometimes a little mean when he couldn't control himself. Yet it was you who came to him, confessing that you needed him, that you wanted him. How could he resist you?

The doors of his office were still locked by one of you, leaving the field free for your fiancé to lie down on his desk, abruptly pushing on the floor anything that could have hurt you. Taking care to remove his mask before starting anything, his lips would find your mouth as soon as he was free of it. His hands greedily roamed your body, removing the clothes that were in his way. His eyes landed on your belly, which had quickly taken on a few curves, causing a glint of excitement to shine in his pupils. His hands slid tenderly over it, admiring the way your belly was inflating with each breath. It was his child growing inside you. He was the one who had made you pregnant. It made his member harder and harder every time he thought about it. Pulling gently on your legs, Capitano pressed himself against you, making you moan with anticipation as you felt the hardness in his pants against your you. He wanted to make you scream with pleasure, to let the guards outside his door know what he was doing to you and that you were his. No one would dare laugh at you again when you said you were his fiancé or that you were carrying his child.

Capitano wished he had been gentler with you, for fear of hurting his child. But his instincts told him otherwise… Still, he had asked a Fatui doctor for advice about your sexual relations. He was reassured when it was explained that there was no risk to the baby and that sex could even be beneficial in easing the delivery.

While his long fingers took their time preparing you to receive him, Capitano stood straight in front of you, watching your every reaction. Seeing you squirm on his desk, red and moaning at his ministrations made his member more painful than ever. He waited to make you cum on his fingers before slowly removing his sex from its fetters, his eyes never leaving your breathless form. Positioning himself at your entrance, Capitano took your knees between his hands, spreading your legs further apart before he began to thrust. He knew he was big, but you had always taken him without complaint. As soon as he felt your walls give way to his invasion, he immediately began to pound you with force, making his desk creak. Your screams of pleasure made him smile as he heard the murmurs of the guards behind his door. Ceasing to keep his distance from your lips, Capitano let go of your legs to bend toward you, careful not to crush your belly as he used his forearms to lean on the wood of the desk. With a muffled grunt, he kissed you, enjoying the feel of your hands pulling his ebony hair.

Capitano rarely moaned, but when he felt your orgasm tightening his member like a vise, he couldn't stop the pleasure he felt from vibrating his vocal cords. Instead of going slow to follow you, his thrusts became rougher, a dull growl escaping his throat each time he hit your hips. He clenched his fists as he felt his orgasm pouring into you. God, if you weren't already pregnant, he wouldn't have hesitated to do it again… But you were exhausted, the pregnancy taking all your energy. Capitano withdrew, taking the time to kiss your belly before lifting you up in his arms to lie on his couch. Covered by his long coat, you looked at him with loving eyes. You drew him to you, demanding his caresses and kisses. Capitano sighed against your lips, his heart beating with adoration for you.

"Pregnant!"

Kaveh inadvertently shouted through the streets of Sumeru, startling a few passersby as they went about their business. The architect inhaled sharply, grabbing your wrist to take you to a quieter place. Once out of sight, he took your face in his hands, plunging his beautiful gaze into yours. "Are you pregnant?" You smiled at him, tenderly wrapping a hand around his wrist before placing a light kiss on it. Kaveh couldn't believe his ears, his heart drumming in his chest as he seemed about to burst with happiness. Gently, he brought his face closer, pressing his forehead against yours, exhaling a shaky breath from his mouth. As he closed his eyes, a dreamy smile stretching his lips, Kaveh wondered how he had managed to survive so many years without you by his side. You were a blessing in his life, an angel fallen from heaven who offered him love and home. "Thank you my love. Thank you." Simple words in his mouth, yet loaded with emotion. You embraced him, celebrating your happiness to come.

Kaveh had moved in with you, leaving the hell of collocation with Alhaitham for boundless happiness with you. Although his shoulders were still weighed down by the astronomical debt of his latest masterpiece, Kaveh kept his head high, continuing to work hard on numerous projects to clear his debt. He didn't want his problems to cause you stress, especially during pregnancy…

Kaveh took care of everything at home. He would let you rest, especially when he heard you getting up at night to vomit… He would stay with you, holding your hair and helping you clean up afterwards. As soon as you returned to bed to go back to sleep, your companion would encourage you to lie down in his arms, stroking your forehead and hair until your eyes grew heavy.

Since Kaveh couldn't really afford to buy anything for you and your child, he decided to use his architectural skills. He will design and build with the help of Tighnari and Collei a crib and rocking chair and a whole lot of beautiful furniture for the baby's room.

As your belly gets rounder, Kaveh will make it a habit every morning to kiss your belly, saying a sweet "Hello" to his baby before getting up and kissing you tenderly.

Your partner will often offer you afternoons on your terrace. Comfortably seated on cushions, Kaveh would hold you between his legs, one hand on your belly while he read you the book of your choice. You could also just listen to him humming a Sumeru tune, savoring his lips on your scalp.

Alhaitham and Kaveh were "friends". Sure, it was a strange friendship, but the two supported each other in their own way. That's why you weren't surprised when Alhaitham knocked on your door, his face expressionless, holding a teddy bear in his arms… Kaveh looked at his friend with a strange grimace on his face and you couldn't help but laugh at the sight. It was over tea that you were able to chat with Kaveh's friend, sharing with him your wishes for your child.

Arguments were rare in your relationship, but sometimes you felt like your hormones were getting the best of you. You could go from pure anger to tears of sadness after an argument. Kaveh understood your problem and always made sure to hug you, whispering in your ear that he was sorry and that he loved you…

The first time you called Kaveh to put his hand on your belly, the man was speechless as he felt his little one moving around inside. The following times, your companion could not help but tell his baby about his day or even complain about Alhaitham and the wise men or his mom who had gently scolded her for nonsense. With your ear pressed against you, your arms wrapped around your hips, you stroked his hair, rolling your eyes with an amused smile as you listened to your companion confess to your child.

Kaveh often told you that he wished it was a girl. He knew that little girls had a stronger bond with their fathers, especially at a young age. Of course, if you gave birth to a boy, he would spoil and cherish him just as much.

Every outing you took, Kaveh would stand by your side, protecting you from crowds and careless passersby who might inadvertently punch you in the stomach. If someone dared to push you around, the anger in Kaveh's voice and the strength he used to push the person away shocked you every time. Yet you were the one who calmed him down, reassuring him of your health by taking his hand and placing it on your stomach. "You see, our baby is fine." You said to yourself as your child was having fun doing somersaults. Kaveh sighed, calming his nerves before smiling and kissing your forehead apologetically. "I rather think he wants to defend his mother, like his father…" You laughed at his comment.

Between the two of you, Kaveh was definitely the one who was dreading the delivery the most. The closer the date got, the more the fear that the delivery would go wrong invaded his mind. He didn't want to lose you or the baby. His fear could be contagious, fortunately, it was your friends who reassured you. Alhaitham, Tighnari, Collei, Nilou, Layla and even Cyno. All of them promised you that everything would go well and that the doctors who would take care of you were used to deliver even the most difficult babies. This will not stop Kaveh from cuddling you every day, enjoying your closeness and warmth until the big day.

Kaveh will be a very loving and devoted father to his child. He loves to hold his baby in his arms, showing others how perfect his child was. He loves to kiss his chubby cheeks.

NSFW Bonus

Kaveh was the kind of man who was into romance. Whenever he wanted you, he made it clear in a roundabout way. Soft kisses on your lips, sensually running down your neck. Or soft words whispered in your ear as he slowly led you to your room decorated with flowers and some lit candles… But you were the opposite of him.

The first time you felt the irresistible urge to feel him inside you, you pulled him to your room, kissing him fiercely, drawing a surprised moan from his throat. Not having the time to grab your hips to avoid falling, you pushed him onto the bed, spreading him out beneath you. His shocked eyes stared at you as you straddled him, bending towards him to claim his mouth again. Kaveh felt like his body was boiling from the inside out as you wrapped your tongue around his, rubbing your hips against his pelvis. He could feel his member hardening at the sight of you, his eyelids closing sharply at the sudden invasion of desire. Was he allowed to have you while you were pregnant? In doubt, he gently pulled you away from him, slowly catching his breath before asking, "W-Wait, isn't this going to be dangerous for the baby?" He shuddered as you rolled your eyes before smiling at him, your hands clutching at your top to slowly remove it. Kaveh's eyes couldn't turn away from you as he admired your bare body. Hesitantly, he raised his hands to you, first caressing your round belly before moving higher, kneading your breasts free of your bra. He grunted when you moved your hips again…

Kaveh let you undress him, welcoming you into his arms once you were done. He liked to see you sitting on top of him, stroking his member against yours to coat it with your arousal. Kaveh closed his eyes tightly as he felt you slide down his member, his hands coming to rest on your hips to help you get off him. As soon as he opened his eyelids again, he felt his cheeks heat up sharply at the sight of your flushed face, his eyes closed by the feeling of pure happiness that overwhelmed you. To see you in this state, with his member buried in you and the round belly of his child made him mad with desire.

Kaveh took you by surprise when he tightened his grip on your hips, using his feet as a fulcrum to start penetrating you hard. It was not in his habit to behave like this, usually preferring gentle sex. But his sudden brutality made you scream with excitement. Kaveh had never felt this way. Desire was running through his head as he concentrated on the pleasure he was feeling as he pounded into you with force. The noises you were making were making him dizzy and when you called out his name, begging for more, Kaveh knew he was lost. Turning suddenly, careful that nothing hurt your stomach, your lover grabbed your knees, pinning them in the crook of his arms. Despite the haze of desire that prevented him from thinking properly, Kaveh was still careful that the position was not uncomfortable for either you or the baby. As soon as he got your go-ahead, he started pounding you again with rigor.

Kaveh never held back his moans, openly expressing the pleasure he felt when he made love to you. He knew it turned you on to hear him moan your name, your own voice getting louder every time he panted in your ear. He whispered to you how good it felt, how much he loved you and how happy you made him. Sweating, Kaveh slowly felt his end approaching as your walls began to tighten around him. As your screams became more and more high pitched, he applied more force in his thrusts to help you reach your orgasm. Your name came out of his mouth in a final moan as he felt himself coming at the same time as you. His hips slowed their rhythm until they stopped completely. Kaveh slowly separated from you, falling down beside you, out of breath and exhausted… Gradually regaining his senses, he started to sit up to see how you were doing before being interrupted by your hand pushing him back against the bed. A smile was frozen on his lips as he watched you straddle him again, a smug expression on his face. God, you were insatiable and terribly sexy as he watched your hand slowly caress your belly until it fell on his member… He felt that the next few months of pregnancy were going to be a real physical ordeal for him…

"Diluc I… I'm pregnant."

Diluc dropped the quill he used for signing several contracts with Fontaine's clients, staining the papers beneath. His round eyes stared at you as he kept his mouth slightly open. You could see his hands trembling as he backed up in his chair, clearly frightened by your admission. He could feel the world spinning around him, dizziness clouding his ability to think. He didn't understand how this could have happened, knowing that you were both protecting each other. You were everything to him, his life, his heart, his world, and now you were giving him a child. He was happy but also so scared… Yes, Diluc was afraid. Scared of losing you. Scared of hurting you. Scared of… Not being a good father. He had never known his mother, who died at birth, and his father, whose sudden and violent death left him with deep scars in his heart. What if the same thing happened to you as to his mother? Or if Diluc suffered the same fate as his father? He couldn't bear it… He would never forgive himself, even in death. Your lover gasped when he felt your fingers gently caress his cheek, taking him away from the dark thoughts that were invading his mind. "Diluc, darling calm down." - You cuddled his cheekbones, then his ear, before tangling your fingers in his hair and pressing his forehead against yours. The gentleness in your eyes calmed his doubt-ridden heart and he finally allowed himself to breathe peacefully. - "You will be wonderful. You always have been." - His hands had stopped shaking as he took yours in his. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. The fear had left him. Happiness was right there in front of his eyes, he loved you so much and he will love this little being that you both had created just as much.

Diluc has always been very considerate and gentle with you. And he was even more so since your pregnancy. Every word, every caress he offered you made you feel like you were falling in love with him all over again.

During your seventh week of pregnancy, the problems associated with it became more and more complicated to bear, often forcing you to lie in your marital bed with a cold cloth over your eyes. The pain pounding in your head and nausea were especially bad in the morning. Although Diluc had a lot of work to do, he stayed by your side, moving your head to his thighs to massage your temples and forehead. He hated seeing you in so much pain and not being able to do anything about it. So he asked some friends what could help you with your nausea. Lisa advised him to make you a ginger drink, which was well within Diluc's capabilities.

Your companion has always been a protective man. Too protective. You knew he had deep-seated fears about you, and the thought of anything happening to you while he was away terrified him. Of course, you weren't going to complain about spending more time with him, but you didn't want him to put aside his business or nightly duties for you. So you gently scolded him, reminding him that you weren't made of sugar, just pregnant. With a tender smile, you kissed him, promising him that you would take care of yourself while he was away.

You stopped counting the number of times Diluc put his hands on your belly, savoring the curves that were gradually taking shape. He loved to caress it while he held you close. It was a warm and intimate moment, taking advantage of the private time between you to bury his face in your neck and kiss you. Most of the time he kept his eyes closed, imagining your life when the baby was born. That reality took on a clearer shape in his brain when he felt his baby move against his hands for the first time. Tears welled up in his eyes, wondering if it was possible for him to be happier.

As soon as sleep came, Diluc, who tended to fall asleep later, would lie down next to your belly, placing tender kisses on it before whispering sweet nothings to his baby. "I'll protect you and mom.", "I love you both so much." His baby would respond positively to his voice, pressing against your belly to form a small bump. Diluc would smile, responding to his child by stroking that spot.

Diluc had gotten into the habit of helping you support the weight of your belly when you went out. He could see that it was getting harder and harder for you to stand, so whenever he could, Diluc would go behind your back, resting his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your hips. His large hands would reach under your belly, helping you support the baby's weight. Who cares if people looked at him, didn't he have the right to support his wife? Plus, it made it easier for him to kiss you, his lips brushing your shoulder, neck and jaw with tenderness before whispering his love for you.

Your husband was an excellent cook, and although Adelinde was the one who did most of the cooking, Diluc wanted to prepare it for you personally. He insisted on using only the best produce, even going so far as to have the fruits and vegetables he needed planted in the estate gardens. This man loved to shower you with affection, which is why he would bring you a beautifully flowered tray to bed every morning, with a dish he had specially prepared on top.

Diluc didn't care if his child was a boy or a girl, he only cared that it was healthy and safe. The fear of childbirth had never left him, and as the due date approached, the fear gripped his heart. He vowed to stay by your side and hold your hand during the birth, making sure to call on the best doctors and midwives in all of Mondstadt to accompany you through this ordeal.

When you reached the eighth month of pregnancy, Diluc caught you looking at yourself half-naked in front of the mirror, studying your round belly as he slowly ran a hand over it, his lips stretched by your sweet smile. Diluc admired the scene, his eyes shining with love. The baby would be here soon and he thought, seeing you like this, that you would be an incredible mother. Diluc silently approached, coming up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his hands on yours. His eyes stayed on your reflection as he felt you melt further into his embrace. Diluc sighed, happy and content.

Upon learning of your pregnancy, Kaeya had decided to spend more time at the Dawn Winery, trying to ease Diluc's shoulders by being with you. This was difficult at first, as there was always an icy coldness between them. But as the weeks went by, the two men began to speak cordially to each other. You could sometimes see them smiling at each other as they talked about the baby and how Kaeya would be the best uncle in Teyvat. The gifts he gave for your child always ended up in the baby's future room. A stuffed animal that resembled an owl would wait warmly in the crib for the arrival of the Ragnvindr offspring.

Sometimes Diluc was forced to leave the manor late because a source told him of abyssal mages, Fatui, or bandits lurking around his lands. For your safety, Diluc would put on his Darknight hero outfit and go hunting. Even though you were asleep most of the time, Diluc would always offer you and the baby a kiss and an "I love you both" before he left. He would do so as quickly as possible, reluctant to leave you alone in the manor with only a few maids unable to defend you in case of attack. Fortunately, and Diluc knew this, the source of his information, specifically Kaeya, was keeping a close eye on the Dawn Winery.

Diluc would be a very gentle and loving father. His heart warmed every time he held his baby close. It was a little being that seemed so fragile in his arms. The first time he held him, tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at him in silence, becoming more emotional as his baby's tiny hand wrapped around his finger. He vowed inwardly to do everything he could to protect his family.

Bonus NSFW:

Diluc was amazed at how much you'd been craving sex since you were pregnant. Even though your sex life had always been full, with Diluc satisfying your needs to perfection, you now sometimes went to him more than once during the day to ask for his help, pulling his tie to lure him into your bedroom. His cheeks were flushed with excitement as he obediently allowed himself to be dragged along by you. Once in the privacy of your room, Diluc locked the door, pinning you against it. His lips, eager for you, crushed against your mouth with desperate force, while his hands grabbed your knees to lift you up. Wrapping your legs around his hips, Diluc took advantage of having his hands free to grab your ass, allowing him to press his growing erection against your folds. Moaning against his lips, you savored the languid movements of his hips against you…

Diluc thought back to the first time you'd made love since you were pregnant. He had been so afraid of hurting you that he had just made you cum on his fingers and tongue, completely ignoring his needs. The second time, you reassured him that the baby was safe, that he could enter you without any problems. You didn't have to say it twice. Now there he was, holding you against the door, struggling to get your clothes off. Archon, he felt so insatiable! Already this morning he had woken you up with his mouth and fingers, waiting patiently for your eyes to open and asking for more…

At first, Diluc went slowly with you, treating you like glass that would shatter at the touch of his fingers. His back and forth was sensual as his fingers happily caressed your belly. He can't help but kiss you, his tongue wrapping around yours. His hands roamed your body with passion, enjoying the softness of your skin against his palms.

Now that your clothes were on the ground, he didn't bother to remove his own, simply unzipping the front of his pants and then pulling down his underwear to free his member. Lord, you were already ready for him, he didn't even have to prepare you with his fingers. Was it the pregnancy that made you like this? He'd never admit it, but he loved feeling you so in love with him as he was with you. With one of his arms still holding you firmly in place, Diluc used his free hand to position his sex at your entrance, penetrating the tip first before slowly working his way in. His gentle back and forth movements made you see the stars and as soon as he hit bottom, his movements stopped, probably waiting for his breathing to calm down. The pleasure was so great that his body trembled against you. His soft grunts against your ear drove you wild with excitement as you felt Diluc press you closer to him, melting you into his embrace. He left no space between the two of you, allowing himself to feel your little round belly against his abs. His shirt prevented him from fully feeling your body against his, and he cursed himself inwardly for his impatience. Slowly, his hips began to roll against you, making you moan his name against his ear. Diluc kept his jaw firmly clenched, occasionally hissing with pleasure as he felt your walls tighten around him. It felt so good that he had to hold back hard to keep from cumming immediately. He hadn't even begun to come properly… As he languidly rolled his hips against you, his face hidden in your hair, he heard your pleas against his ear. Faster. Harder. This is what you wanted. Well, then he would grant your wishes. Grabbing your buttocks more firmly, Diluc began to penetrate you hard and fast, making you scream his name. Archon, he could feel your nails scratching at his back, and despite the pain, it excited him more. The door creaked with his pounding and he was sure all his employees were aware of your lovemaking. But he would have time to worry about that later, continuing to pound you, being careful not to hit your belly. He rarely got to a point where he couldn't control his own sounds, but it was when he felt completely lost in you that his moans got louder, more ferocious with each swing of his hips. His sex ached as he quickened the pace of his thrusts, feeling your orgasm approaching. He let a loud grunt escape him as your walls tightened around him.

He savored the feel of your hands on his shoulder blades, on his neck and in his hair, feeling the love and passion of your actions. He came inside you, again and again, going straight back to the assault when he was done. Since you were pregnant, the urges he once managed to control were now overpowering his reason. He wanted you and your lustful looks didn't encourage him to calm down. He was going to satisfy you in the best way possible, as many times as necessary and for as long as you would let him.

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meiieiri · 3 months

Text

water’s edge | 03

₊˚.༄ pairing: crown prince!gojo satoru x f!reader | setting: modern royal au

₊˚.༄ summary: in a world where titles define their fates, gojo satoru, the crown prince of japan, and his wife-to-be, face a tempestuous court of deception and schadenfreude. as they waltz on the edge of ruin, can their love endure the treacherous waters that threaten to pull them apart, or will the whims of the enigmatic chrysanthemum throne prove strong enough to drown them both?

₊˚.༄ author’s note: please don’t kill me omg this took too long. also, thank you to the warmest of messages, it really helped a lot. <33 i’ll see this through to the end. and thank you for sticking by me all this time. rbs are appreciated<3

₊˚.༄ warnings: physical harm/abuse, references to theft, adultery.

₊˚.༄ masterlist

He doesn’t want to wake up.

Not right now, when everything feels so real, so painfully tangible that he could make out her voice, her gentle breath, her plumose touch grazing his flesh as she leans in. “Satoru?” The woman in his dream whispers his name, and light seems to burst forth from that sound alone. It’s her; she iswas here, Satoru could almost touch her if he searched hard enough. If he imagined her face with just a little more effort, maybe she’d become real and not a figment of his guilt-ridden imagination. “Satoru, wake up. We can’t stay.”

I’ve missed you, I’ve missed who I could be when I’m with you.

Suddenly, he is brought back to light-hearted days when he used to sit underneath the imperial palace’s cypress, his fingers absentmindedly flipping through a book he found in the imperial archives while the love of his life sits beside him. His orbs gaze up at the chemtrails that paint the canvas of the turquoise summer sky.

He doesn’t want this dream to end. Shaking his head, he refuses her request the same way he did back then.

How cruel could she be to ask him to leave her again? He’s left her once, he wasn’t about to do it again. He hasn’t even begged for her forgiveness yet and now, she was telling him to wake up from this fantasy world his troubled mind created and to confront reality.

Don’t make me go, he begs her. Weren’t they happy here being together after being forced apart by those around them? Why would she want to go another minute without him being by her side? Did she still resent him? Stupid question, Satoru thought bitterly. Of course she does, after everything he’s put her through-

Suddenly, the hand that was reaching for her falls slack against his side. He doesn’t deserve her forgiveness, nor the very privilege of claiming to love her when every action he has ever committed said otherwise. Then, like a clock striking at midnight, the dream abruptly vanishes in a cloud of smoke.

Gojo’s eyes flutter open with a start.

“Shit,” he clutches his still asleep shoulder and sits up, looking at the empty room. How long has he been asleep? He looks at his watch — he’s an hour late — but he doesn’t really seem to care about the time. Immediately, he sends a quick text to Himiko asking where she is, only to receive a text with a picture attached of the cathedral. It seems she went ahead thinking it would only stir up more trouble if they arrived at the venue together.

Gojo’s mind wanders back to the dream before it is inevitably forgotten. Like a movie that he wants to watch over and over. He gazes at himself in the full body mirror with an empty gaze. All that is in his mind is to smash the reflective material into pieces, knowing that this is not the man his love wanted him to be: a prisoner in his own skin. When is all of this ever going to end? He huffs, slipping on his shoes and shrugging on his navy blue sash.

Not wanting to delay the inevitable any further, he turns on his heel to head to the cathedral reluctantly leaving the traces of his now corroding past behind for an even bleaker future with you as his wife.

“…Where’s Satoru?”

The entire nation is silent when only moments before, they were happily celebrating this supposedly joyful day. A reporter trains his video camera on you as you stand there motionless before an empty altar. Pretty soon, other members of the media who would get a huge scoop out of this travesty follow in his example as if you haven’t been humiliated enough by your groom who couldn’t even bother to show up at your wedding.

The empress who is seated right of the altar shoots you an apologetic look; she didn’t realize that Satoru could stoop this low. This wasn’t anything less of a transactional marriage and you thought that the prize that Satoru was promised he would get for marrying you would be enough for him to at least be civil with you. And here you thought that the earrings he gifted to you were a sign that things would eventually settle down.

Without warning, as the VIP guests start to chatter amongst themselves about how pitiful you looked, the woman you dreaded seeing bounds over to you, a solemn expression on her face. You would have believed that, despite the quiet rift between you and Chief-of-Staff Himiko Zenin, she felt a little sorry for you but her choice of wearing white on your wedding day says otherwise.

“Ms. (Y/N). I’m sorry there must have been a problem with the schedule, if you could follow me please—“ she begins to lead you to one of the cathedral’s private holding rooms before the grip on your hand tightens.

“—Suguru?” you looked at Suguru with a sad and confused expression. His heart clenches in his chest when he gets a good look of the damage Satoru dealt to you. He looks like he wants to throw something at the press for making a dogshow out of your agony — his hands are clenched into fists, his knuckles white — he takes a few deep calming breaths before he does anything rash.

At Himiko’s persistence, Suguru’s gaze hardens and he gently pulls you away from her as your feet remain planted firmly on the marble floor of the cathedral, leaving you frozen in place at Satoru’s betrayal. He hopes what he’s thinking isn’t true, but that’s proving to be a challenge since he doesn’t miss the hickey on Himiko’s neck which had been conveniently hidden by her long brown hair. Maybe she had a part in all this mess? She and Satoru had a history together after all and judging by the way you looked at her with apprehension — he doesn’t want to consider it — but perhaps you already knew that.

You are blinded by a camera’s flash and Suguru springs into action. Turning to the nearest guest, he politely asks, “Excuse me? May I borrow your suit for a second?” When the guest agrees, he shields your face with the Zegna suit to conceal you from the hounding eyes of the press who must be having the time of their lives right about now. Just one picture of the Crown Prince’s crying bride could sell for a good buck but not on his watch.

Not on his fucking watch.

Suguru looks at his father, and then his stepmother, and he couldn’t bring himself to be surprised to see them frozen in their places unable to do anything, much less act like they care. Their priority was to look good in front of all these cameras that were terrorizing you, not to comfort their future daughter-in-law. “Hey, it’ll be okay,” Suguru begins to urgently lead the two of you back to the car, his arm protectively around you while you hold the suit over your head.

“Will it?” You probably sounded like a child, begging for reassurance that all this was some sick dream but at that moment, it didn’t matter. You need someone - anyone - to tell you that everything will be alright. The question makes Suguru’s heart sink. In all honesty, he doesn’t know, but he didn’t need to make you feel even worse if he spoke the truth. So, he nods, choosing to lie to spare you from even more pain because he couldn’t count on anyone in this goddamn cathedral to do the same. He’ll have to talk to Satoru later on, this is a bad start to any marriage - no, bad would be an understatement, this is a catastrophic omen of what’s to come.

Pretty soon, Suguru requests that the roof of the car be reinstalled to hide your desolate expression. “Put it back up, please. The princess must be protected!” In his panic, he accidentally refers to you as a princess even before you are formally crowned Princess of Japan. The imperial household agents quickly get to work and pretty soon, Suguru helps you back into the car, putting up the tinted windows.

You can’t feel a thing. You don’t even know if you should harshly laugh at your foolishness or cry now that you’ve just been humiliated in front of thousands of people all across the world. Shrugging off the suit over your head, Suguru is surprised to see that you weren’t crying. You simply sat there, blankly staring at the ring on your finger.

“(Y/N)? Come on, say something…” He’s desperately trying to get you to express the tiniest bit of emotion, somewhat unnerved by your silence.

Turning to look at him, you wonder if he had been surprised by his brother’s behavior today or if a part of him expected this to happen. “He hates me.” You were numb. “I don’t know if you already knew but—“

“—-It’s arranged, I know.” Suguru scoffs under his breath, almost in disbelief that he didn’t figure it out sooner when he first heard about your engagement. Just when he thought his family couldn’t stoop any lower than they already were, they just had to drag a naive girl into their royal messes. His father and stepmother always preached about modernizing the monarchy but, their archaic ways such as actively banishing a woman of the imperial family should they marry a commoner and having some sort of proclivity for disastrous matchmaking through arranged marriages only say otherwise. “Fuck,” he buries his face in his hand, the thought of this predicament was making his head hurt.

You remove the tiara from your head, somehow feeling that a weight has been lifted when you do so. In a span of mere seconds, Suguru now appears exhausted. “I thought he’d at least wait until after the wedding to ignore me for good,” you muttered sadly. “That was fine, you know, him acting like I don’t exist; I know I never stood a chance…against her.”

You recall the way Gojo’s lips locked with Himiko’s in a searing kiss, and the way your heart seemed to disintegrate in your chest as you drove off that day, your eyes on the rearview mirror, heartbrokenly watching the both of them as you convinced yourself that you had no right to feel bad. And that is precisely what makes this situation so difficult; you feel like Satoru is cheating on you when in fact, he isn’t because he never once told you he loved you. You should be angry, furious, crestfallen at your fiancé’s betrayal, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

“Himiko,” Suguru nods in understanding.

He knows her well, and while he doesn’t exactly have any hard feelings towards her, he acknowledges that having her around in the imperial family is a misstep on Satoru’s part; he’s seen her many times before cajoling Satoru into ditching his royal duties for the two of them to spend time together, he has witnessed how she blatantly disrespects the emperor and the empress, he has also been made aware of the many lustrous gifts she has received out of his younger brother’s pocket.

“Yeah.” Your shoulders slump in defeat. “I never asked him to love me, I’m a lot of things but I’m not a thief.” You begin to shed tears as you try to convince yourself that you were perfectly fine with Satoru never loving you. You were so confused. Did you want him to love you? Are you now finding yourself craving for his ocean eyes to gloss over with an emotion other than hatred, an emotion similar to love?

Suguru watches you intently as these silent questions fly over your head. “You’d never ask him to love you but you love him…otherwise, why would you be on the verge of tears all the time whenever we talk about something remotely related to him if you didn’t?”

You swallowed harshly. “Is it so wrong though? To feel cheated on knowing we were never together in the first place?” You’ve been wondering about that since the day of the public announcement of your engagement and you’ve searched your heart for answers from the minute you wake up to the moment you fall asleep on your tear-stained pillow.

Suguru looks pensive for a moment, taking a deep breath before he speaks. “No, there’s nothing wrong with that. The heart wants what it wants, it’s pointless to even try to understand it.”

“But I don’t want my heart to want him.” You shook your head. You were going to be in for a world of hurt if you even entertained the idea of falling in love with Satoru Gojo. “He’ll never forgive me for it.”

A sad smile creeps up your face at the thought of Satoru admonishing you, one day, for saying you loved him even at his worst. Being in your early twenties, this was the age of recklessly falling in love, like a car speeding on an empty highway showing no signs of stopping, while you desperately look for the brakes.

A larger hand eventually finds its place above yours, his thumb gently rubs your knuckles that have turned white as you clenched them into fists to stop you from crying and making an even bigger fool of yourself.

“It’s not your fault. To be loved by another is a privilege most people overlook.”

You glance over at Himiko again, and then at yourself: you wore the dress but you weren’t the bride. You had the ring but not his affection. Feeling your gaze, Himiko looks at you for a brief moment and an exchange of sorts occurs between you and her: two women desperately envying one another. You had the vote of the people, yet, she had his heart. Almost in condolence, she offers you a curt nod before turning away.

“You are exactly the kind of girl he needs, (Y/N),” Suguru offers you his handkerchief to dry your tears with. “He’ll need you.”

“He’ll never want me.”

At exactly 2:35 in the afternoon, two hours and five minutes after you set foot at the chapel, Satoru arrives in a proxy vehicle, disguised as some foreign dignitary who arrived late. He steps out of the car behind yours and a collective sigh of relief washes over everyone. You craned your head back to see him dressed in the attire you first saw him in, a blank expression on his face as he was approached by his courtiers who instructed him on what to do.

Suguru looks in the direction of your gaze and he hurriedly steps out, squeezing your hand a final time as he does. A confused expression flashes over Satoru’s face when he sees Suguru step out of the bridal car. What was he doing there? According to the protocol sheet, wasn’t Ijichi supposed to be the one to accompany you today?

“Suguru,” Satoru greets his half-brother. “How’s she doing?” He suddenly asks about your well-being which causes Suguru to be taken aback for a second.

“She’s been crying but I think she’ll be fine now that you’re here,” Suguru informs him, looking back at the bridal car where you were. The older of the princes pulls the younger aside for a bit. “Where were you? She’s been waiting for more than an hour and—is that—?” He suddenly stops mid-lecture when he sees a bruise on the corner of Satoru’s bottom lip. Then, he recalls the hickey he saw on Himiko’s neck. “Satoru,” Suguru bites his lip to stop him from scolding Satoru.

What irks Suguru is that Satoru doesn’t even bother to hide it with the palm of his hand or even show a scintilla of regret. Did he really just fuck Himiko on the day of his wedding? “It was a farewell gift,” Satoru shrugs. “Besides, I’m here now, does it really matter?”

“Yes, it does,” Suguru pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’ve no idea the amount of trouble you caused (Y/N) today, how are you even going to begin to make it up to her?” Not like Satoru plans to make it up to you. In his eyes, you should be on your knees thanking him for showing up at all.

Satoru clears his throat, fidgeting with his left epaulet. “I did nothing wrong.” He believes every word he says. He did nothing wrong, he has nothing to make up for when it comes to you. He never betrayed you, there isn’t a relationship to ruin in the first place. “Himiko did nothing wrong to her and still, she’s suffering the consequences of my actions which shouldn’t be the case since, if I can remember correctly, if it weren’t for her intervention, if she hadn’t stepped in at the last second, you’d be visiting your own brother in jail.”

“Well, if you deserve it, I’ll even bring some snacks,” Suguru counters, earning a harsh warning glare from Satoru. He takes a second to steady himself before continuing. “Look, Satoru, what you did that night isn’t something that’s easily made up for like your little affair with Himiko.” Gojo scoffs in response to that. “You didn’t just hurt our family this time, or that man you brutalized, you hurt the entire nation. And you have to at least make some effort to clean up after yourself—“

“—By making my life a living hell without the woman I love? Forced instead to be with the likes of her? How is forcing the two of us to marry for some shitty publicity stunt any more evil than everything I’ve done in the past?” Isn’t that what they all thought of him?

“—She’s not doing anything evil, she did nothing to hurt you—“

“—She did everything to hurt me by forcing me into this marriage, ripping me from the future I dreamed of with Himiko, so you don’t dare make her out to be some saint because she isn’t.”

A hush descends on the two brothers: one who’s made it his life’s mission to despise you and one who’ll vouch for your integrity. The two stare each other down, wondering how it was possible they shared a father yet they couldn’t be more different. Perhaps, it’s the fact that Suguru was never the empress’s child, rather, he was born of a common woman – a reluctant homewrecker, which would explain, at least to Satoru, why he’s so protective of you. A whore’s son will defend a whore.

Geto doesn’t see you step out of the car, you must have heard the commotion outside the car when Satoru arrived. You blankly stare at Satoru for a good minute who seems to have just finished up a heated discussion with his brother. He looked angry, but why should that surprise you? Some of the imperial household staff encourage you to re-enter the car until the prince has made his way to the altar, but you couldn’t listen, you were simply at a loss for words.

He was here.

Almost three hours late, but he's finally here.

Satoru scowls when he sees you. He’s tried his best to be civil with you, but from what he’s heard from Suguru just now, you were clearly turning everyone against him. Sensing his anger, you tilt your head down for any crime you could have committed whether knowingly or unknowingly, but it seems more like the latter since he always finds something new to hate about you, an act that came so effortlessly to him.

“I don’t want to hear another word about (Y/N) from you.” Satoru turns his wrathful gaze to his brother who simply matches his death glare with a bored and disappointed look. Suguru lets out a tiny ‘tch’ at Satoru’s command, his hatred for you is an established fact, after all, and not just some rumor he’s heard from a jittery bride — the very sound of your name was like nails on a chalkboard to him.

Suguru couldn’t believe this. Satoru has been the one willfully hurting you ever since the two of you had that under-the-table arrangement with the empress yet, he had the sheer nerve to act like he was the one being wronged. While he understands his brother’s sentiments, you didn’t want any part in this in the first place, and whatever has driven you to this point of gambling your entire future on a man who doesn’t love you must be something that could persuade you to put up with this torture. “Is that a request or a command?” Suguru says flatly, the two men watching you get briefed by the floor director like some actress for a commercial shoot.

“A command from your emperor.”

“Fortunately, you’re not the emperor yet.”

Suguru promptly leaves to take his place beside you, nodding to Satoru to get moving and head to the altar already. You shakily take Suguru’s hand, waiting for the doors to open to restart the ceremony. “He looks angry.” You watch your groom storm to the back of the cathedral. Suguru wants to kick himself, the last thing you needed was Satoru to take out his anger on you once the two of you are alone.

“Sorry, I’m sure it’s just another one of his tantrums. He’ll cool down.” You sincerely hoped that was true. The last thing you need is Satoru getting even with you by suddenly walking up to Himiko and obscenely reciting his vows to her, though you were unaware that the two of them had indeed made a vow to continue loving one another earlier today whilst you were being publicly humiliated by domestic and international media for your failure of a wedding day.

You watch as Himiko scurries to the back of the cathedral as well, and you feel bile rise in your throat at the mere thought of what they could be doing behind closed doors. “Don’t even think about it, (Y/N). Don’t,” Suguru says firmly. “Just keep your eyes forward, and concentrate on taking one step at a time.”

“I can’t. I just can’t.” You can’t shake them out of your head no matter how hard you try. “The more I try to forget about them, the more I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Think of something else,” Suguru suggests. “Anything else.”

The last thing you need right now is imagining Himiko and Satoru obscenely murmuring whispers of love to one another, assuming that that’s the worst they could do. But from what Satoru told him earlier, Suguru might need an anti-hypertensive, enraged at the thought of those two literally screwing one another while you were out here on the verge of an emotional breakdown waiting for a groom who can’t be bothered to show up on time.

“Five minutes ‘till the doors open. Everyone, please stand by now,” Ijichi peeks out of one of the cathedral’s entrances, eyeing you particularly, as the great double doors slowly creak open, again revealing the majestic interior of the cathedral. Ijichi holds up a hand, signaling you to wait for the Trumpet Voluntary to start playing. You hold your breath then at the sound of the first chord, you and Suguru begin to walk down the altar.

It’s a long way to the front but the sheer distance between you and him couldn’t dull Satoru’s inimitable contrarian beauty, a prose you simply can’t understand. “Don’t look anywhere else. Focus on the act, focus on what you can see,” Suguru reminds you but really you get what he’s trying to say. Don’t go looking for Himiko.

And the only person you can see right now is him, Satoru, the man you are falling for at such a dangerous acceleration that if you were in a car on the freeway, you’d crash and burn in a heap of scorched gasoline in your crazed attempt to outrun these shittyass feelings.

You gulp as you continue on. How is this taking forever? Step by step, you are racing to your own demise. You just know it. But the doors are closed behind you, forever separating you from your past, there is only him. A bitter future.

“Suguru,” The two of you reach the nave of the cathedral, and just a few meters away from the altar, you stop on cue and wait for Satoru to lead you up the steps, towards the altar where the Archbishop of Tokyo is standing. “Thank you for being there for me.”

“Well, it was either me or Ijichi.”

Satoru begins to descend down the steps and a look of annoyance passes through his features when he sees you and Suguru chuckling to one another like you’ve been friends for the longest time. But then again, he can’t really seem to complain, having you off his back because you’re all too busy being chummy with Suguru doesn’t seem to be too bad. Satoru casts a glance towards Himiko and then over to you.

“Let’s go.” Satoru takes your hand and you are surprised at how he doesn’t seem to have any intention to drag you towards the archbishop. Nodding, you follow your groom’s lead. The ceremony is foreign, no other imperial couple has ever been married in a Christian ceremony so, even Satoru, who has been born to know all the imperial customs, is left trailing off and even, stuttering at some points during the entire affair.

Eventually, the two of you tide miraculously through it and in just one hour, you aren’t (Y/N) (L/N) anymore, but instead, you are Princess (Y/N) Gojo, the wife of the crown prince. The usual kiss between the bride and the groom is omitted to preserve the usual custom for an imperial Shinto wedding. As the archbishop and the other key religious figures in Japan gather behind you and the prince, your maid of honor, Utahime, solemnly bows before you with your bouquet in her hands. You turn just a bit to greet her and something catches Satoru’s eye now that your veil was no longer obstructing your features.

It can’t be.

The Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra begins to play the recessional and you and Satoru bow before the emperor and empress, traveling down the aisle, your hands interlocked. Somewhere halfway through to the cathedral doors, you feel Satoru gripping your hand a little more aggressively than usual. “Satoru?”

He’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Surely, you wouldn’t. How on earth did you find those earrings? Unless, someone had snuck into his room and nabbed it while he was asleep earlier. Something in Satoru tells him that you probably didn’t know and that you probably didn’t do it intentionally — stealing from him — but that doesn’t excuse the fact that you’re wearing it like it’s yours when clearly, it didn’t belong to you.

Satoru never thought he’d see it again, having kept it locked up in his drawer of memories past their due date to be completely forgotten. He never thought it would ever see the light of day again. But here they were, still in mint condition, reminding him of everything that has slipped through his fingers and everything he has destroyed thus far.

“Not here,” he hisses, glaring at you and that’s enough to get you to shut up.

Satoru has been indifferent up to this point, and sure, he may be seeing someone else but he is normally civil with you, with a few occasional snarky comments muttered under his breath, but he has made every effort to keep a handle on his emotions. Not once has he ever seemed as angry as he is now. But the scary thing is, you don’t even know what you’ve done other than wrench him away from Himiko and even that was unintentional on your part.

You make it to the car and he slides up the privacy shutter so the driver doesn’t hear a word. It’ll take a few minutes for the convoy to get moving en route back to the Asakusa Palace, the imperial palace that had been originally built to serve as the crown prince’s chief residence before it was turned into a state guesthouse by the National Diet.

Settling into the seat next to you, Satoru’s breaths are ragged trying to control himself from choking the life out of you. His voice comes out, a dangerous edge to it. “Where’d you get those?” He asks this question like one wrong move or syllable could cost you dearly.

“What—?” And as expected it does when you don’t reply quickly enough, not exactly knowing what he’s talking about.

With one swift movement, Gojo abruptly yanks off the earring off your right ear causing you to gasp in shock as it shatters in his grip. “I-I don’t know what you mean…!” you pleaded with him.

“You little thief,” Satoru stares down at the crushed earrings for a while before flinging it onto the car floor. “When did you steal this? Who did it for you?” He hits you with a fusillade of accusatory questions and you whimper in fear. Just like a kicked dog, Satoru rolls his eyes at you. “Answer me!”

“I didn’t steal them!” you protest your innocence. “Please, you have to believe me!”

Satoru punches the window of the car next to you, cutting off any more of your pleas, they’ll fall on deaf ears anyway. “Did you order one of the servants? Maybe Ijichi? Who stole this for you?” He asks again.

“N-no one I swear!” you inched away from him.

A huff escapes his lips when he realizes he isn’t getting anywhere with this and Gojo finally relents after what seemed like an eternity of him holding your head underwater. Your breath comes out in shaky huffs, utterly afraid. You look even uglier now with that expression, he rolls his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that.” The monarch sneers at the horrified look on your face. “Like you don’t deserve any of this.”

You wanted to speak against that but he’s right. You should have known that every one of your actions wouldn’t go unpunished on Satoru’s watch when, as he unfailingly implies every time the two of you are within ten feet of each other, you’ve single-handedly ruined his and Himiko’s entire lives.

“You’re right.”

He feels a wave of annoyance at how pliant you sound, struggling to remain calm after lashing out on you like that. He looks over at you, his mind filled with a mixture of anger and just a tiny bit of remorse when he sees your pained expression. He’s aware that what he did was out of line, and while he normally gets into spats with others, he’s never one to lay a hand on a woman much less even think about doing something of that magnitude.

“You know, when you ran away that night when we met at that restaurant, you should have gone straight home.”

That way, you’d be spared from all this despair. He almost sounds regretful for what he did and what he will continue to do, but he really didn’t mind if he never knew your name in the first place.

“That would have made the most sense, yeah.” It’s quiet in the car despite the thundering cheers outside. Satoru looks pensieve, his lips pursed into a thin line. “But there weren’t any taxis that night and the empress is pretty agile for her age.”

“What did she say? Did she offer you money?” Satoru casts you a disgusted look.

You wonder if you should tell him. You doubt there’d be another chance for you to tell him the real reason you agreed to marry him. There won’t be another vulnerable moment like this, you just know it. Satoru deserved to know why you’d kill yourself over and over again in your ill-fated quest to love him, to accept him.

Somehow, you can’t help but feel you’re so dishonest compared to him, at least, Satoru had the decency to be casually cruel and brutally honest about Himiko to you, making no attempt to hide the plain fact that he doesn’t love you and he never will. But at the same time, you don’t want to make things even more difficult for him by burdening him with the truth, so you settle on maintaining your silence. He could believe whatever he wanted to believe, not that he’ll ever change his opinion of you.

“You’re not even gonna deny it?” Satoru sneers.

“Even if I do, you’ll never believe me.”

How could he? All you’ve done and all you will do from this point on is lie, lie, lie. Lie that you married him without accepting any personal favors from the empress, lie that you don’t deserve half of what’s happening to you right now, lie that you don’t feel physically sick when you see Himiko — the very woman you’ve trampled on, the woman closest to his heart — lie that everything will eventually turn out alright, lie that you’re not dying every second a hate-filled syllable falls from his lips, lie that you could ever stop this mad freeway chase of loving Satoru Gojo.

But the freeway is empty, your opponents long gone, the stoplight to doomsday is perpetually green, and all that’s left is a husband that wishes you were dead. You dejectedly take off the earrings’ pair and set it down on the seat in between the two of you, returning another thing you unwittingly stole from him.

Eventually, the convoy reaches Asakusa Palace and on the historic balcony of the 19th century Western-style palace, he takes your hand as the members of the imperial family wave to the crowd, thinking this day to be a hard-won triumph. Satoru meets your lips for the first time, you are left taken aback at the forced gesture, but there is warmth in that eternal split second that you felt his hot breath against yours, maybe some affection even.

But then again, you are known to be a delusional optimist who still believes her mother who has been in a coma for almost three years now will one day wake up.

Satoru pulls back his eyes that have been wide-open during the kiss scanning over your face and he sees nothing. Nothing at all worth loving. You were just simply you, and that in his eyes, is your biggest crime. You don’t show up to the wedding reception.

That same night, Satoru doesn’t show up to your room either. Instead, he sits in the dark of his office, staring at the earrings he recovered from you under the yellowish light of his desk lamp. His fingers brush over the ruined bejeweled earrings; no one will be able to use it now. Somehow, he feels he should apologize to you for scaring you like that. You should, he could almost hear her say.

He sighs deeply, looking over at his ashtray. Not bad, he expected he would finish an entire pack tonight, but he’s only made it to four before he started coughing. She never really liked his habit of smoking anyway.

The door to the study creaks open breaking the silence, but Satoru doesn’t look up, only one person would be brave enough to intrude in his office past dark. The crisp floral smell of top-shelf whiskey fills the air. “Got you something to drink.” Himiko sets down the glencairn on the desk, planting a kiss on Satoru’s lips which he surprisingly doesn’t return with equal devotion much to her dismay.

Her eyes then fell on the jewelry piece Satoru was holding. “Did someone else go into my room today?” That alone could explain how the highly-revered Golconda diamond earrings fell into your hands. It wouldn’t be hard to steal since the night before, whilst he was searching for a lousy wedding gift he could give you, he accidentally left the earrings outside its dedicated safe.

Himiko stiffens at the question, but she quickly recovers her composure. A hysterical woman like you could never hope to win Satoru over the same way she has. “I don’t know, I didn’t see someone on my way out,” Himiko shrugs.

“Did you at least see them still sitting on my nightstand on your way out?”

“I didn’t notice.”

Somehow, Satoru finds that a little difficult to believe but he knows she wouldn’t lie to him. “I saw (Y/N) wearing these earlier today.” He places the earrings back in their respective box, tucking it away, and making a mental note to chuck it in the safe later tonight before he goes to bed.

Himiko’s throat runs dry as she wracks her head for a response. “Oh?” She moves to sit on his lap, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. “I’m guessing you got pretty angry.”

“I did,” Satoru sighs. “But I just can’t wrap my head around one thing.”

“What’s that?” Himiko asks softly. Her heart was pounding in her chest. The last thing she needs is for her little plan to get Satoru to be angry with you on your wedding day to backfire. “Look, haven’t we already established that she’s a golddigger? Are you really that surprised she stole them?”

Satoru shrugs.

It doesn’t add up.

He understands that you might have shown interest in it, and maybe it did cross your mind to steal them, but how could you have known these pieces existed? It’s not like you ordered one of your ladies or retainers to specifically steal the Golconda earrings, it just didn’t make sense to him, even then, some of your retainers might not even be aware that such a thing existed especially since most of them have only been recruited by the Imperial Household Agency recently.

“Look, why don’t we just forget about it, hmm? We could sneak out and go for a drive somewhere. I’m sure (Y/N) won’t mind,” Himiko presses open-mouthed kisses up Satoru’s neck, her hand coming up to fondle him through his slacks. “Come on, you need some cheering up.”

“I’m not driving at this hour, we could stay here.”

Satoru’s eyes flutter close at the sensation, his hand gripping Himiko’s slender waist, allowing her to continue her ministrations. He did need some cheering up after today’s dismal affair. But at the same time, he can’t stop his thoughts from wandering away from how Himiko is unbuttoning his shirt. Damn it. Satoru can’t focus on her, it’s like his normally calculated mind descended into a valley of fog.

Himiko grimaces at Satoru’s lack of attention. She quickly stops her futile attempts at intimacy. “Just stop thinking about them. You got them back, didn’t you?” she says, a hint of frustration laced in her voice. “Besides, even if (Y/N) did steal them, it’s not like you’d have any use for them anymore.”

Something stirs within Satoru and before he could stop himself, a flash of anger appears on his usually calm and flirtatious demeanor when he’s with Himiko. “That’s not the point. You know very well what those earrings mean to me.”

He’s shared it with her before. She knows everything about him, more so than anyone who has ever known anyone else on an intimate level before. There exists a version of Gojo that only Himiko knows, and keeps like a sacred prayer. Which is exactly why Satoru is livid about her downplaying the importance of everything he keeps in his safe, his personal mausoleum of the warmest spring of his youth that he would have longed for still had it not been for Himiko.

Himiko, for once, allows herself to be vulnerable even if for just a bit. And a look of pure hurt takes over her lovestruck demeanor earlier. But that is instantly replaced with anger. Anger at Satoru for continuing to hold onto things that should have no meaning anymore because she’s here now. Loving him is a dangerous game, what else could she expect from a man who is caught between the past and the future?

“Forget it.” Satoru stands up, shrugging Himiko off his lap. “I’ll find out one way or another. You should go home.”

Himiko painfully picks up on the fact that Satoru told her to ‘go home’ and not ‘head to bed’, meaning she won’t be sleeping with him tonight. Satoru runs a hand through his mop of white hair, calling Ijichi. He knows it’s late but Ijichi should still be in the premises right now.

“Ijichi? I’m heading out.”

“What now? It’s two in the morning. You still have a ribbon-cutting ceremony to go to with the princess tomorrow.”

“Just get over here right now, I won’t take long.” He’ll still show up to that stupid ribbon-cutting at the Tokyo University of the Arts with you tomorrow. Speaking of you, he should probably refrain from doing such things again. He begins to think of ways he could, in a way, make it up to you for his behavior but that doesn’t mean you’re out of the frying pan just yet.

Just because he’s suspicious about these circumstances doesn’t mean that he believes your desperate plea earlier that you didn’t attempt to steal an integral part of his past. No one could replace the person whom those earrings first belonged to. Not even the woman standing in front of him right now, the object of his desires, the source of your pain.

“What? You’re going there again? Don’t tell me you’re still hoping she’ll answer for once.” Himiko’s nostrils flared in anger at the thought of Satoru leaving.

“Don’t push it, Himiko.” Satoru takes a dangerous step towards her which causes her to somehow, for the first time in her life since she met the prince, shrink in fear. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You’re already hurting me!”

What Satoru says next is like a bullet being fired through a thin sheet of glass.

“(Y/N) is enduring far worse than you and not once have I heard her complain or throw a tantrum like you’re doing now.”

Satoru leaves immediately after, ignoring Himiko’s angry cries. He comes back at about eight o’clock the next morning to see your newly framed wedding photo shattered on the floor next to a crumpled up picture of another person whose name Satoru couldn’t even speak without bursting into bitter tears midway.

How ironic it is to be married on the day he lost her.

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