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lady-ashfade · 2 months

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Lord Of The Tides

Yan!One-Eyed!Lucerys Velaryon x Niece!Reader

╰･ﾟ✧☽ the best girl @madame-fear requested this from me and I love the way her mind works. She’s my wife- so I hope I make her happy with this one.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 3k

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: targ’cest, lucerys being a bit different because he’s older, he also losses a eye, yandere behavior, slight dark themes, and slight mature themes (sexual), but no smut, and if there is a mistake about him having two eyes—Shh.

“were you scared?” the spoon in your hand scratched the bottom of the cup in your hand, and the sound of your heels clinking on the floor boards below were soft but could be heard around the room. even if it was only the two of you, the room was full in your eyes. “greatly. I was young and naive but I loved my brother, but I was too slow to reach towards the knife. Aemond had me beat in length, and that’s how,” his fingers moved upward to the black patch on his eye. He didn’t look ashamed of it like he did all thoses years ago before you were born, his body grew and so did his mind.

“I remember the story sounding much more…action packed as a child. Don’t get me wrong, uncle, you are the bravest man I ever met,” his chest filled with pride as the words fell from your dusted pink lips, “but I do recall you saying you road in on a dragon?” The sly smile on your cheeks was the only thing he recognized about you now. It’s been a few years since he had seen you, or took notice really. he was trying to fulfill his duty to study on how to be the next “lord of the tides” and he took it seriously.

glancing upon you now for the first time in years, he could see the beautiful woman you’ve became. perfect body that filled out your dress perfectly while showing just the right amount of skin but enough to leave any eyes yarning for more. you had matured more then well. In this moment he couldn’t pull his eye away from you, he was desperate to look at you for as long as he could. you were magnificent. “Would that enthrall you?” his teasing tone and brow arch made you flush in embarrassment.

“Would make the story a lot better, uncle.” you raise the cup to your lips and took a quiet sip while holding eye contact with him. the few seconds of silence had your stomach tingling and blood pumping faster. there was no secret from a young age you had a crush on your kind uncle. He had given you attention and made you laugh while teaching you stories and knowledge. It was just a silly crush that had you staying up late at night thinking of his smile years later.

“I suppose your right.” he broke eye contact to chuckle and lean forward to grab a soft pastry from the table. “Tell me, what has it been like while I was away? Has my brother learned anything about being future king?” His tone was off. Almost sounding as if he was belittling your father, or making fun of him. You stood up straight and place the glass down on its plate.

“My father has been doing a great job. Our queen is training him well, or do you doubt your own mother?” his body stopped in time for a second with half his lips wrapped around the sugared sweet to stare at you. he couldn’t believe how fast you acted to defend your father and tried to make a fool out of himself. the look behind your eyes and the smile tugging at your lips he could tell you meant no true harm. only to play a little game.

“You have changed,” he tone shifted as his eye made sure to run its way up and down your body, making you squirm in your chair. “No longer a girl but a lady.” you hated how easy it was to feel drawn into him again. it was different now then it was back then, you had aches and desire only the dead of night could see and he was making it so hard to control them. “I was pleased when I got your letter even if I had little time to prepare for it. But there is one question on my mind: why?” the truth wasn’t something you could tell him in that moment. So you settled for something easy, and nothing like the full picture.

“I missed you. Castle life is wonderful, but you always showed me the fun of things.”

each day that went by he was drawn in closer by you, from your smell, to your smile, to the sound of your laugh that he caused. he tried to deny himself from the thought of you but you were already hammered into his mind once he saw you getting off your dragon merely days ago. It’s been a long while since he saw beauty like you, your intelligence mind and wit, or your able to be naive in hopes of a better world. the strength to hold himself back when you were just a few inches away from him was great. he wanted to hold you, to touch your soft kiss…to whisper into your ear—

“I don’t understand,” the sound of you voice awakened him from his day dreaming. you had not noticed his staring from being turned away from him. “This game is incredibly stupid.” the mallet in your hands swung a bit as you exhaled frustratingly. the colored balls scattered around the ground, non of them close to being where his were.

“I think you wanted me to fail,” you pouted you lips at the tall man. “It’s not my fault your losing my dear,” the nickname made your body clinch, “if you had listened to me-” the words shouting from your mouth interrupted him.

“I have been listening to you. But you’re somehow cheating.” it made him unbelievably amused to watch you huff and pout at losing a game you forced him to teach you. if he could, he’d steal that pout away from your lips and make you whine about something else. “Are you accusing me of something?” He leaned his arms on the mallet but leaning on his leg to stare at you with scrunched brows. you took a moment to find something to say but only muffled and gagged words came from your lips before you eventually gave up. “No uncle, forgive me for my temperament.” You looked down at the yellow ball and glared down at it.

“It’s just utterly frustrating to loss when you’re already so far ahead of me,” you glanced back up and pointed to his, “I don’t like losing.” that was something you gained from both your parents if he was honest. jace never liked to lose a game or training, and your mother had a shorter temper he could only imagine how you’d act when you get heated. “Then we should keep playing until your good.” he turned back to hit the blue ball at his feet and cheers when he gets it through the metal bars. gods, he was going to kill you with his handsome smile.

It was heart wrenching to see his smile fade and his body tense days later, with his hand resting on the stone railing. it was a perfect day, the time you spent with him was still unmatched by the way he made you feel. the sun shining orange across the sky and bouncing off the both of you, making the other even more breathtaking to each other.

“What?” his voice rasped and dropped darker then you have heard it before. all ounce of happiness left his body and started to over flow with growing anger. “For how long?” the raise volume to his voice make you look down in guilt for some reason. he was mad at you for not telling him…but for reasons you did not know of. “Two months. Before I came he was set to stay in kindslanding to find our ground with one another,” you played with you finger tips. he took a deep breathe to stop himself from shouting at you any further. his sweet girl knew nothing of the pain it caused him to hear those words. to find out she was in fact not his.

“He’s sweet, and kind. A perfect match for the realm,” you look up at the orange sunset and feel the aching in your heart grow, “we are to be wed in three months.” grabbing the long glass of wine from beside you and bringing it up to your lips to take a big sip. you needed to drown out the doubts and fears you had somehow. lucerys fist tightened at the thought of another having you be their bride, to get to kiss you and share your bed every night. he was lord of the tides, he had the best fleet and army at sea, he could protect you, love you like you deserve- but this man got it just on a whim?

you are more precious to be sold for some on going alliance with a household- you deserved a prince.

“But,” you start again with hesitation and force yourself away from his eyes, “he is not the one I long for. Yes, he would be a good and faithful husband but my heart does not long for him.” the title belonged to the man you stood beside, the man who made your soul burn blighter. he stepped forward and your breath hitched and couldn’t keep your eyes away from him. the eyepatch on his face never made you fear him, not even once did the stories make you feel any less for him.

“Who does it long for?” He fell hushed as he stood even closer to you now, your bodies almost touching and you could almost feel the heat coming from him. you wanted so badly to reach out and touch him, to belong to him- to marry him. but it was not to be so, your duty as the princess is to care for the kingdom the best you can and that is for your betrothal to the lord you barley knew to work. and not to the man you loved.

clearing your throat you step back away from him and force a smile your face. you clearly were imagining things and he was not pursuing your fantasies, or his own. “A chat for another time perhaps, it’s getting quite late wouldn’t you say? I need a good nights sleep for my travels tomorrow.” he had forgotten all about you leaving. time slips away with you here. how could he bring himself to part ways now after everything you brought him?

“Then I shall fair you goodnight,” before you could pull away his body moves forwards and his lips pressed against the hairline of your forehead. it was a few seconds long but the feeling made you overwhelmed in shock, you froze up. pulling away from you he took notice of your reaction and how tense you became, “slept well, my dear” he walked away with a curled smile towards his cheeks and leaving you standing there alone.

that night you toasted and turned in your sheets thinking of how his lips felt on your skin and your brain started to wander. how would it feel for him to kiss down your shoulder, or you lips and down your chest in his chambers at night. he had no wife to warm his bed, surely he must be lonely? but a man like him was definitely no stranger to the feeling of a lovers touch and you knew that for sure. the thoughts you had that night made you feel embarrassed to see him the next morning when you woke from the vivid dream you had.

you fixed your glove over your hands and made sure everything you need is tied on tight to your dragon. she squirms beneath your touch and if she could purr like a cat you know she would. lurcerys appreciates you carefully as your attention was not on him, he liked to see your face in shock because he found it adorable. “Leaving without a goodbye?” to his pleasure he was right. when you turned around at his voice spooked like a horse.

“I wasn’t sure you’d have time, it’s early.” you shifted awkwardly and covered yourself. he hummed along and walked closer and then inches by you. he stops before the scales of your dragon and slowly guides his palm over repeatedly along her body, makes her happy like it was you. even she enjoyed his company, much like her rider. “I’m sorry, I did not know how to say goodbye.” admitting the truth was harder once it was out for some reason. you didn’t want to look like a girl despite in love.

“This isn’t a goodbye, we will see each other again.” he gave one last pat and turned to face you again. he stood with his hands clasped together, his black outfit with golden accents shining in the morning sun, his dark brown hair reflecting just like the gold.

“I’m sure of it.”

Lucerys Velaryon was many things. a prince, a lord, a brave soldier trained, and powerful man with connections everywhere. he could pay his way through the slums and have anything he wanted done at the snap of his fingers. he never wished to see you in tears or upset, really, but that’s the way things happened. to even think of letting you suffer a marriage to— anyone but him was a taste worse then the gods could give. and it was tragic how the lord just ended up dead a few days later from being poisoned by one of his own cooks. he died in his mothers arms and his heart felt sorrow for her and only her.

you came running into his arms after you heard the news since he was the only one you could go to. of course you would, he planned it just right. so he kept you in a tight embrace as you cried into his chest while stoking your hair and whispering everything was going to be fine and you were too distraught to say anything. “just breathe sweet girl,” he whispered into your ear. you grabbed ahold of him and tried to calm your breathing but the hiccups messed you up. he hated seeing you like this but was overjoyed at the same time. he was with you, you were his now.

“I’m scared,” you sobbed as more tears rolled down your already damp cheeks, “he was kind- the next man might not be the same. I don’t want to be a miserable wife,” naive little you to think he’d ever let that happen.

“look at me,” he commanded but not harshly. his hands cupped the skin of your jaw and cheek to guide your face up to him. even now you looked as stunning as ever. “I’d never let you be miserable, you are too special,” his thumb traced shapes into your skin. he looked into your puffy eyes and drank them in, you looked so innocent and in need of his protection. and he loved that. “I shall confess I find myself thinking of you since you first arrived in driftmark as a new woman.” he watched your eyes widen in anticipation and surprise.

“my heart longs for you and only you. the minute you come the place lit up and worked smoothly with you around. driftmart needs a lady, I need someone by my side that is wise and has a soft approach.” your brain fogs up as he leans down near your face like he was going to kiss you but stops just before your noses touch. “I’d fill your rooms up with anything you ever ask for, show you love like you’ve never dreamed, or protect you from any harm that comes your way. you know I’m a better choice than the boys competing for your hand.” you hear the slight venom in his voice towards the mentions of other lords.

“my father, what would he say?” you whisper and he could feel your breath making him hold himself back. “I’m in need of a wife, he’s daughter is a reasonable gift. He knows I’d never mistreat you,” the other hand grabs ahold your waist and moves his hands up and down your dress making you shiver. “come on, sweet girl. say yes.” a simple nod of your head was enough of a answer for him to finally capture your lips like he had been waiting for. you felt so warm pressed up against him it made him feral inside.

the warmth inside became like a explosion when he kissed you, the way he’s holding onto you so tight and against him, his short breaths and gasp for air, the hunger makes you sore and aching for everything he had. he wanted to give you it all, but he couldn’t. not until he put a ring on your finger and that pained him. the hormones in his body were at its peak now.

slightly tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth he pulled away slowly with a husky growl. he held your hips in place to stop you from trying to get more. he listens to you pant while doing the same thing himself. you smiled up at him, “I’ve always wanted you to be mine,” you say blinking your eyes up at him teasingly, “I don’t think I can ever belong to another.”

his chest rumbles in soft laughter. “About my brother— I’ll make him see we belong together, he raised you well so he knows just how much I need you.” he was so good a flattering. you roll your eyes playfully at him, “you have honeyed words, my betrothed.” you needed no acceptance from your father. you’d run back to dragon stone and wed Lusercys there. you couldn’t be pulled away from him after this.

“Because you get the cutest look on your face, you haven’t been as secretive about your feelings towards me. Should we talk about the time you practically bursted into flames when you knocked yourself onto me?”

“You stoop so low, my lord.”

#Lucerys Velaryon #Lucerys Velaryon x reader #yandere lucerys velaryon #yandere Lucerys Velaryon x reader #Lucerys Velaryon x fem!reader #house of the dragon #yandere hotd x reader #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #yandere house of the dragon x reader #yandere house of the dragon

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circeyoru · 1 month

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IMREALLYSORRY BUT I CANT WITH MY DAYDREAMING SHI

I've been having a whole scenario in my head and I wanted to ACTUALLY read them from a fanfic

BUT ANYWAY OKAY OKAY SO😭

A oneshot where reader is like an empress of Hell, they're the one who rules all the overlords and owns said overlord's souls, ans also the founder of overlords, but their power is just right below Lucifer's and Lilith's

The timeline takes place right after the fight between Adam and the exorcists vs the Hotel

So like, the hotel is rebuilt! And Charlie has received a few actual customers that wanted to be redeemed

And Alastor feels like there's something going to happen that it's making him all tingly and nervous, and it did!

And then, reader like showed up, but under disguise (Charlie is like a niece figure to reader) but then again Charlie doesn't recognize them because they're in disguise for some purposes (I'll let you decide 🥰)

And Alastor, was completely shook, he WAS NOT EXPECTING READER AT ALL

Though he was QUICK to realize that reader was in disguise, so he just slightly scrambles to introduce himself even though he's hiding his excitement and nervousness

After all Alastor was eager to please his master, he also ended up dropping his radio vintage voice in the process

"Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you, *quite* the pleasure! What brings you to this fine establishment madame?" literally took their hand and kisses it

And reader is just like

"I may have been in need for a place to stay. But I heard Vox had cameras everywhere, and this was the only hotel I could have privacy"

Vox was an overlord ofcourse, he's also on Ravine's command, but Vox always had cameras stalking Ravine, which Vox calls it.. "keeping an eye for protection"

And since Alastor was the Radio Demon, every camera breaks of crashes if he was recorded, qnd it counts the hotel! That's why Ravine came to the hotel in the first place, and they explained Charlie that he didn't need to be redeemed, just a place to stay at the moment and Charlie wouldn't refuse someone in need. After all if Charlie refused Alastor will find a way to make her

it made Alastor slightly annoyed at Vox displeasing reader

But also boosted his ego and pride! Maybe once he saw Vox again he would rub it on Vox's face that reader came to him for a place to stay instead~

And after all that chatty yada yada or tour

Reader and Alastor finally had a real private talk at Alastor's radio tower! This part is a bit angsty but fluffy

They catch up and then Ravine brought up Alastor's wound in his chest caused by Adam, along with his mic/cane that he was not holding no more

Alastor tried to brush the topic off, feeling ashamed

But reader insisted. They ended up locating the wound exactly and placed a hand over it before Alastor could protest, and healed him

And Alastor didn't have a choice but to melt into the touch, his fluffy ears pulling back in the process

And maybe just reader teasing Alastor for his deer habits

Or an extra scene of Alastor stating that reader came to him and rubbed it on Vox's face

THAT'S ALL EVEN THOUGH ITS SO KUCH

ANYWAY TAKE YOUR TIME DRINK WATER AND EAT AND ILYSM

Let's try something~ Here's a spoil on the next story I have written~ Will be out in a few hours.

Now this is a newer request, but it was so unique (and the longest request I got I think) that it got me thinking, so I had to write it. Haha~

Collection of Overlords = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader] P.S. It's out now~

Other Works: MASTERLIST

#Circe's Nighty Writings #Circe's requested writings #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #alastor fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel fanfiction #Collection of Overlords

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written-in-flowers · 1 year

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Aegon ii Targaryen x niece reader where it's like Damon and Rhaenyra, Aegon and reader go to a brothel but they actually fuck and now they have to marry but there okay with it because they love eachother?

Molding and Shaping

Warnings: incest, slight dub-con, virgin!reader, slight dumbification(?) or allusions to it in the future, somnophilia, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, creampie, no protection, manipulation, cock-warming, power-dynamic, older/younger dynamic,

***

He found you laying in one of the brothel’s private rooms. He’d lost you ages ago during a trip into the city, and spent a good stretch of it looking for you. Aegon knew his mother would flay him alive if he returned without you at his side. Rhaenyra already coveted her daughter so much; if she should have gone missing on her uncle’s watch, he’d never hear the end of it. So, rather than bury himself in wine cups and whores, he’s been searching for you. A man whom he often gambled with in a tavern up the street said he’d seen someone of your description wandering through the Street of Silk.

Perhaps you hoped to find him here, in the Flower Garden, an establishment known to have the finest maidens in King’s Landing?

Or, you hoped he might find you there, vulnerable and oblivious to his presence?

Aegon’s body grew warm seeing you laying on a cot in an empty room. The madam told him she’d taken pity on you, and let you sleep quietly in one of the private rooms. A small room, the walls draped in red and gold curtains, he saw the plush furniture and amenities the place offered. He spotted small vials of different scented oils on a table near the bed, a comfortable mattress with red and white sheets, and his mind began to turn.

For as long as he could remember, your uncle desired you. He watched you grow from an annoying, whiny brat into a blossoming young woman who made him hard in a single glance. Aegon needed to have you, but he knew his sister would never willingly agree to a marriage. She most likely planned on giving you to Jace, your brother, but he refused to let that happen. Rhaenyra took much from him, and he planned on taking you from her. Aegon spent most of his teen years flirting and seducing you. He knew you felt the same. He knew because he still thinks about the time he cornered you at Driftmark, tugged down his trousers and convinced you to stroke him. He thought about your soft hand sliding up and down his length, sending shivers of pleasure over him while people feasted right on the balcony above you. Aegon continued small trists like this, slowly bringing you to him with promises of undying love and devotion mingled with passionate kisses and touches. You were a lonely girl with very few friends to guide you. You were perfect for molding.

Aegon started carefully removing his clothes. He couldn’t avoid the arousal stirring in him. You’d worn your peasant clothes tonight. A cloth and linen gown that cinched at your waist sat over a chair, and he saw your corset beside it, so you only wore your small clothes on the bed. He could make out the shape of your breasts underneath the chemise; the thin fabric rode up around your thighs as you tossed over to one side, your bottom exposed to him. He’d be gentle. You saw his cock plenty of times over the years, but he rarely saw your body. Mostly because your family lived on Dragonstone and had not visited in years. But, the times you had met, you often pleasured him.

He finished undressing and slowly walked over to the bed and sat down. You didn’t stir at the shift in the bed, so he took that to be a good thing. Carefully, he reached over to the collection of oils, finding one that smell of coconuts, and dripped it onto his fingertips. He then gently applied it between your thighs. He bit his lip at the feeling of your soft folds on his fingertips. The oil made it easier for him to move around, wetting your pussy and touching on your clit. He sometimes lowered his hand to your thighs for a soft squeeze, before running back up to your bottom. He gave the one cheek he could touch another tender grip. He’d have you tonight whether you knew it or not. Aegon’s cock started to harden touching your parts: he slid his oiled fingers back over your pussy slowly, and even spat on them to make it slippery. Visions of this tight heat around his cock, squeezing and milking him, made his jaw drop. You’re temptation personified. You’re the one thing he can’t have but desperately wanted.

“Mmmhm,” he heard you stir in your bed, “Uncle...”

“Shush,” he quieted you gently, watching your pussy glisten in the candlelight. You said it so sweetly, so innocently. “Just relax for me, Princess. I’ll do the rest.”

“Uncle...it tingles.”

“It’s supposed to, love.”

He loved it when you played innocent. You spread yourself a bit further out, and Aegon took advantage of the access. He smiled at the soft gasp you made once he slid a finger inside. Yes, just as tight as he thought. Your walls clenched at the intrusion, the slippery digit massaging against them as he curled inside. He watched you clutch the pillows as his fingered you. Your low whimpers made his cock twitch; the feeling of your pussy clutching his fingers caused him to bite his lower lip. Gods, you were perfect. He often had to pay extra for maidens. He once bought a girl at auction. But even those common girls paled in comparison to your sweet, untouched, virginal cunt. Aegon knew nobody ever touched you this way before. He could tell by how easily your pussy spread for him. You’ll be his by the end of the night. Nobody will be able to take you away; not Rhaenyra, not Daemon, not his mother and especially not his corpse of a father.

Aegon chuckled at the sound you made when he pulled out his finger. “Don’t worry, pet,” he said into your ear, rolling his fingers over your clit once more, “You’re going to get something much better soon.”

“Two fingers?” you asked shyly.

“No, sweetling,” he laughed, kissing right at the edge of your ear, “Something bigger and longer than my fingers. I think you’re really going to like it.” He kissed down from your ear to your neck, then to your shoulder. “Stay still,” he said when he noticed your grinding into his fingers, “And let me enjoy your cunt.”

He felt the hard pearl of your clit brush on his fingers, and you shuddered. Aegon continued running it between his fingers, rubbing over and under it every so often to hear you moan. Finally, a pussy he didn’t need to pay for. It’d be all his. If he takes your maidenhead, his family will have no choice but to marry you both to avoid scandal. Then, your body would be his to do what he liked. He couldn’t possibly wait. The tip of his cock began hitting his stomach as he leaned down to rub your clit with his other hand. While he pumped two fingers inside you, he circled right on the nub that sent sparks through your body, causing you to jolt each time. Your heat pulled his fingers fully inside you, fluttering and coating them in your juices.

“Uncle,” you moaned, tugging down the neckline of your chemise underneath your breasts, “Please, go faster.”

“Faster?” he said, eyeing your bare breast from the side. He groaned watching you start pinching and grazing your nipples.

“Yes, please.”

He moved his fingers faster. He wriggled them inside and continued teasing your clit until you were shaking in his grasp. Aegon groaned at the squirt of juices covering his hand. God, you squirt. He loved that. He continued fingering you even after you’d finished making a mess, unable to stop himself from giving you another orgasm. He sensed you must be overstimulated, since you squirmed around every time he brushed your sensitive clit. Keeping you on your side, Aegon finally withdrew his fingers. He pressed them to your lips, moaning when you sucked them. Relief finally sparked when he pushed his spongy tip to your pussy. Your body immediately spread your cum over his tip. He ran the head over your throbbing clitoris, letting his length side between your thighs to wet his shaft. This slight teasing drove you wild. He watched you grind into his cock, whimpering incoherently about him putting it inside you.

“If I take your virginity, Princess,” he said, prodding your entrance with the head, “I will cum inside you.” It was not a fact. It was a promise. “I will fill you with my seed. I will keep filling you over and over until you’re pregnant with my child.”

Then your mother has no choice. He liked the idea of you round, swollen and carrying his baby. Aegon did not particularly want children or to be married, in fact. He simply liked the idea of you holding his child. He smiled imagining his sister’s face whenever you walk by, heavily pregnant, and remember who put it in you.

“Please, Uncle,” you moaned out the title, a word you used so innocently but which caused him so much arousal, “Fuck me.”

“Fuck you?” he questioned coyly, still teasing you, “Not ‘make love’? Not ‘take me’? Do you wish for me to fuck you, little bird?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s what you’ll get.”

He aligned himself with your entrance, then slowly sunk himself into you. Your eye widened at the length and girth stretching you, possibly breaking your maidenhead and causing slight bits of pain. Aegon did not particularly care. The pleasure surging inside his loins made him blind to all sense. Your pussy felt unreal. He’d taken plenty of virgins; he’d rammed himself deep into whores from dawn until dusk, yet yours was so much sweeter. Aegon straddled one thigh, holding the other up and pounded deep into you. Each moan came in a small squeak, still adjusting to his size in spite of the gradual pace. He looked down to his thickness forcing you open; your pussy gripped him tightly, and he couldn’t help being mesmerized by it. He pictured himself fucking this hole constantly. He’d fuck you everywhere and anywhere: his bed chambers, his mother’s apartments, your mother’s apartments, Aemond’s bed (for laughs), and maybe even the throne room. His wild fantasies filled with you riding his cock right on that stupid, ugly chair everyone wants so badly. Your tits bouncing as they did now in each thrust; you moaning his name and pleading for more even when you’d finished. You’ll be his pretty, dumb cocksleeve; his little sex slave who will do anything to satisfy him.

“Such a good pet,” he growled in your ear, the new angle making your eyes roll back. He grabbed you by the throat, forcing you to stay fully still as he pounded your cunt. “Taking my big cock so well and being so good for me. Don’t worry about anything. You stay right here and be a good whore for me...a pretty, dumb, silly little whore...”

And that you did. Aegon watched with satisfaction and amazement when you climaxed a second time. He loved how you clawed at the pillows and sheets; you held them bundled up against your body for a shred to hang onto. Aegon withdrew to see a small sliver of pink mix in with the cum streaming from the tip of his cock. You'd bled. More dropped onto the sheet he used to wipe it. He could’ve cummed just from that alone, but no, he wanted more.

"Ride me," he said, laying on the bed and bringing you with him. He laid there to watch you straddle his hips and sit there. "Well?"

"I...Uncle, it hurts..."

"I know it does, pet," he cooed, running his hands on your thighs, "But it's supposed to. It'll start to feel better soon. Now, get on my cock like a good girl."

You grabbed his shaft and guided him into you, moaning as he impaled you. Aegon groaned at the pulsating heat swallowing him. He gazed down to see your clit rubbing on him, the friction making you grind on him gently. He allowed you to go whatever speed you liked for a while, content to enjoy your hot pussy instead. He grabbed at your tits in the meantime, cupping and palming them as much as he could. Hard nipples poked at his palms, and he pinched them tenderly. The additional pleasure caused you to start bouncing. The sound of skin on skin broke him, and he began bucking his hips to meet yours. He knew your insides would ache in the morning, but he did not fully care. He'd fallen too into his desires to care.

Soon, Aegon tightened his grip on your breasts, hearing a soft moan of pain as he came. As promised, Aegon pumped every drop he could deep inside you. Trembling, his eyes fell closed as he savored your pussy shuddering around him again. He didn’t stop until his cock softened, still twitching somewhat at the stimulation, and you finished cumming over him. Aegon did not pull out. He rolled you onto your side, lifted your leg over his to keep your bodies together, and held you. Under the glow of your orgasms, you rested in his arms. He pushed hair from your face, kissing your cheeks, nose, and lips and muttering praises.

“You did so well, pet,” he muttered, kissing your lips. “You took it all like a big girl and made me so proud of you.”

You smiled brightly, “Don’t pull out of me, Uncle. Please. Not yet.”

“I wasn’t planning to, sweetling,” he replied. “I told you. I want to keep filling you.”

He’d let you relax for a while before having you again. Aegon won’t stop until he is sure you’re pregnant. If you prove not to be, then you have the rest of your lives to do so. Idly, he spent a good while kissing and caressing your body while stuffed in you. As he slipped out, admiring the thick substance spilling from your hole, he looked over to the doorway. Behind the shadow of the curtain, he spotted a small street urchin watching them. He smirked at the boy before he scurried off. A spy. One of Otto’s? One of Larys Strong’s? He didn’t care. The more people who knew about it, the better his chances will be. Aegon began kissing and nibbling your breasts as he imagined his sister hearing about this treachery. The victory felt too sweet.

****

“Aegon, how could you? How could you be so blind? To do this? To do this to her?”

For once, Aegon was not bothered by his mother’s tears or fury. He watched with a sly smirk as she raged in front of him. The boy must’ve been Larys Strong’s spy after all, since it’d been her who approached him first. She’d come into his bed chamber, ripping the covers from his body and tearfully confronting him. He worried she might have gone to you first, giving you moontea and killing any chance of a child. But, that did not matter. He’d taken your virginity, which in a society like theirs, made you worthless to anyone who’d want you.

“What were you thinking?” she asked him. “With her? You do understand that Rhaenyra favors her daughter immensely, and will take this as a slight on her and her family. You’ve spoiled her for any potential matches.”

He almost told her you weren’t innocent either, and had asked him to do it, but he refrained. “I was thinking about my family.”

“Your family?” she huffed. “How is bedding your niece thinking of your family?”

“In order to avoid any more scandals and rumors,” he began, “Rhaenyra will have to agree to a marriage between our house and theirs. She loves Y/N. She adores her. If I’m married to her daughter, who is over the moon about me, then when she ascends the throne, she won’t execute us all.”

Aegon knows there are many flaws in his plan, but that did not matter. Rhaenyra’s always been his father’s favorite child. He’s willfully blinded himself to her treasons, and always came to her rescue whenever a problem arose. He showed time and time again that he cared more about her than the rest of his children. Aegon knows he’ll never be king, and he doesn’t want to be king, but he’d once wanted acceptance. He’d once wanted his father’s love. The night he realized he’d never have it, he decided if Rhaenyra can take things from him and his brother, he can certainly take things from her. Such as her pretty little daughter. By the time Rhaenyra saw her daughter again, she’ll be completely under Aegon’s control and influence.

You’ll belong to him.

****

A/N: this ended up a lot darker than I originally intended, but I’m happy with how it turned out. I hope you enjoyed it too!! <3

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x yn #aegon ii #tom glynn carney #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd drabbles #hotd imagines #hotd smut #aegon ii smut

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weministertomonsters · 4 months

Text

Sunshine & The Beast

You're all bubbles and sunshine as you walk into the Pleasure House several minutes late for your appointment. Madame Blanc scowls and flaps her hand urgently. You're so late that she doesn't have time to scold you.

"Room 6!" The vampiress hisses.

You nod and make your way to the room. You take a deep breath so you can look as professional as a cucumber on ice. Cool and unaffected.

"Hi! I'm your adventurer for today!" You say cheerfully as you push open the door and step in, letting it click shut behind you.

The monster sitting on one of the couches in the seating area blinks.

"What?"

"You know, because with monsters you never know what you're working with so it's always an adventure..." You trail off when you realize he's not getting it.

"I'm technically supposed to say "I'm your caretaker for the day" but I think that sounds lame," you admit.

He snorts and stands up.

"Coming here was a mistake," he says.

"Whoa, whoa! Slow down, Fluffy."

He shoots you a glare. "Who are you calling fluffy?" He demands.

"I'm sorry. Your fur just looks so soft and poofy. It's got to take you an eternity to brush out," you say.

He blinks again, like everything you say surprises him. He narrows his eyes, probably wondering if this is a prank.

"Geez, I started off on the wrong foot," you sigh. "I'm sorry. Again."

"Why are you dressed like that?"

"Um?" You glance down at the shirt you're wearing.

It's got a very artistic-looking cupcake painted on it. Your niece made it in one of her after-school classes, and you treasure it more than any other piece of clothing you own.

"I was running late, as I'm sure you've noticed. My cat gave birth early this morning! It was magical."

He raises a shaggy eyebrow and glances at the door.

"Wait!" You yelp. "Don't go. I, um, really need to get paid today."

"When my friend booked me an appointment this wasn't what I expected. Shouldn't you be on your knees sucking my dick right about now?" He says, crossing his arms.

"Uh, yes. I'm just off my stride this morning. I had way too much coffee trying to stay awake in the wee hours of the morning. It was worth it though!"

"Are you on drugs?" He demands.

Your cheeks warm. "Dang it, am I that buzzed?"

He steps closer and grabs your arm to hold you in place. Then he leans down and sniffs the pulse point in your neck.

"You're clean," he announces, pulling away. "It's just coffee."

"Like I said," you say sheepishly. "Take a seat."

"I'm not sure whether I should trust myself with you. I think you're shady," he replies seriously, and you burst out laughing.

"You look like you could snap me in half," you smirk. "I don't know what you're worried about."

"You're too cheerful."

"Since when was that a crime?" You huff.

"This is exactly how an enemy of mine would act to get my guard down-"

"Ugh, sit, will you? Relax." You push him gently.

He sits down reluctantly, gripping the armrest of the couch so tightly that you hear the wood creak.

You put your hands on his shoulders first, to make sure he's okay with your touch. Still stiff, but he doesn't pull away. He's covered in fur from head to toe, something vaguely human with huge shoulders and a broad chest. You reach up to touch his horns gently. They're small and curl backward, barely noticeable in his thick mane.

"You look cursed," you tell him.

"I'd be offended if you were wrong, but yes. It's a generational curse," he replies, looking up at you.

"I've been with a lot of monsters, I'm becoming a pro at recognizing the different types," you say with a grin. "Would it put you off if I kiss you?"

His eyes roll slightly. "Good luck. With my tusks, it's practically impossible-"

You cut his rambling off with a kiss. You have to lean forward to do that, because of the way he's positioned on the couch. To spare your neck from the awkward angle, you make the executive decision to straddle his lap. His hands automatically come up to your hips, his blunt claws digging in slightly.

When you pull away, he's starry-eyed and dazed.

"How did you do that?" He demands.

"Where there's a will, there's a way!" You say cheerfully.

You move slightly and feel his arousal underneath you and give him a wide-eyed look.

"Dude. That was like, a ten-second kiss."

"It's not like I have an eager host of lovers lining up to get into my bed," he grumbles, looking away.

"If you fix up your attitude, I'm sure there will be."

"I don't have an attitude!" He snaps.

"Okay, Mr. Sunshine," you laugh.

"Shut up," he grumbles before leaning in to kiss you this time.

He's very careful because of his tusks. Despite his misgivings, there's plenty of room to kiss him. His lips are juicier than yours, which is something you'll be jealous about later, but right now they're yours to nip at.

Your greedy hands press against his chest, squeezing handfuls of his pecs. Pretty handy that he does not need shirts. His nipples are right there, covered by soft whorls of fur. He grunts when you pinch them gently.

"Maybe I was hasty," he pants, tipping his head back. "About wanting to leave earlier."

"Really now? I've only just started with you," you tease, reaching down to cup him through his pants.

"What's that?" You say with wicked delight. "You've got two... Oh, I'm getting a treat today!"

He doesn't say anything but the heated stare he gives you tells you that he appreciates your excitement.

You shimmy out of his lap and drop onto your knees on the soft carpet, squeezing his thigh.

"Let's see what I have to work with," you grin heatedly, undoing his belt and making quick work of his zipper.

You're so impatient that it takes a few good tugs to get his pants to slip off his haunches and hindfeet. For a second you wonder if he has toe beans like a cat, but you decide not to risk ruining the moment by asking.

"I don't normally say this, but Dear Lord! Whatever witch cursed you certainly gave you a blessing here," you say.

"I don't think so. They're too fucking big and it's hard to find underwear that fits," he says flatly.

"Learn to take a compliment," you advise him. "Can I touch you?"

He blows out a breath. "Please."

You need both hands, one for each cock. They look pretty much human but on steroids. You're awed because this isn't a usual occurrence, not even in a Pleasure House like this one.

Your mouth is pretty much watering at the sight. You lean forward and take one into your mouth, your lips hugging the tip. He hisses and arches his back like he's in pain.

"Oops, did I catch you with my teeth?" You say innocently, blowing a puff of air over the saliva-slick tip.

"No. Sensitive," he hisses again. "Don't do that, fuck."

"Is that too much for you to handle? Poor thing. I had so much planned," you say in mock disappointment.

You don't give him a warning the next time you engulf his cock with your mouth and you have the pleasure of hearing him whimper. Your lips curl into a smirk at that soft, vulnerable sound. You like hearing big, scary monsters make sounds like that.

So you endeavor to force more out of him, switching between both of his cocks to drive him crazy, using your hands and mouth to massage as much of him as you can, teasing the sensitive underside with the tip of your tongue.

He squirms and growls so loud that the chair vibrates. He seems a little touched-starved too, melting when your hands squeeze his thighs. His hips shift subtly as he struggles to hold himself back. It's probably for the best because lust-hazed monsters have a hard time controlling themselves and that would wreak havoc on your throat and jaw. You're struggling enough as it is already.

His eyes, which have been closed, shoot open suddenly. His pupils are small, his expression a little crazed.

"I want to taste you," he demands. "Get on the bed?"

"What?" You say breathlessly.

Usually, your customer is the only one getting taken care of. While your job turns you on, it's against protocol to pleasure yourself unless it's the customer's request.

And except for a vampire customer who liked to feed from your thigh (which was almost as good as an orgasm), no one else has ever offered.

"Are you sure? This is all about you."

"Trade places with me. I'm not asking you again," he growls.

"Okay, okay!" You laugh breathlessly but damn if that didn't make you twice as wet.

You scramble onto the bed, your weight dimpling the soft mattress.

"How do you want me?" You pant.

"On your back. I want to see your face," he says, dipping the mattress even further as he gets on.

You raise your hips for him and he drags your shorts and underwear down in one fell swoop. You remove your shirt and toss it onto the sidetable. He pushes your legs open and you prop yourself up on your elbows so you can watch him.

The first stroke of his tongue is heavenly agony. You stifle a squeal, your hand coming down to tug at his mane.

"Just like that," you encourage.

He's an apt learner, and when he figures out exactly how you like it, he doesn't let up.

"Wait, wait," you beg as the momentum becomes too much. "I think I'm gonna pass out."

"I don't think so. You didn't stop when I asked you," he says triumphantly, the pad of his thumb rolling over your clit. "I want you to come undone."

"I'm supposed to be giving, not taking," you argue.

"Who says you're taking anything? I like the taste of you on my tongue."

"But-"

"Shut up," he says pleasantly, his voice muffled as he presses his mouth against you again.

You bit your lip and clutch the pillow. It's actually been a while since someone other than yourself made you come. Just as you're about to tip into a whirlwind of pleasure, he stops. You almost kick him in the face before you remember yourself.

"What the hell?" You say, about to sit up. "Why did you stop-"

He pushes you down with his body weight. "I'd use my fingers but there's no way around my claws," he says huskily. "I changed my mind. I want you to come undone while I'm inside you. I want to feel it."

You let out a hard breath. "Okay. But hurry. I almost attacked you, dude. Not cool."

He snorts out a laugh. "Your weirdness might grow on me," he says. "Which one do you want?"

Oh...

"The lower one," you say. "I think it's smaller."

Jokes on you, because as soon as he begins to press against your hole, you realize maybe you underestimated his size.

"Fuck," you whisper.

He pauses, his arms bracketed around your head, his face so close to yours. "Does it hurt?"

You shake your head and pull him closer so he doesn't see you grimace as he slides in another inch. It doesn't hurt, but it does stretch you quite a bit. But you're yet to lose a single devil's tango, so you power through.

"Damn," you murmur when he stops abruptly. "Where do you end and where do I begin?"

"Who cares," is his response as he pulls out slowly.

The next time he thrusts in, it's a little easier. He buries his face against your neck, breathing in your scent. Soon you forget all about the stretch. What you want is more. Suddenly you have a craving to get fucked so hard that you feel it tomorrow. You reach down to take his first cock in your hand, circling it so that each time he thrusts into you, it slides through your fingers.

It's a little amusing to think you're jacking him off while he's fucking you. You angle his cock so that it slides through your folds and bumps against your clit just so. Your body's response is to clamp down on him, and he hisses, his thrusts speeding up.

You're so wet and he's so hard and you fit together so perfectly. He hits all the right spots that have you melting in his arms until you're as boneless as a ragdoll. He takes over, holding you in place with your legs pressed up so he can slide in even deeper.

Good lord, your back is going to ache tomorrow, but you don't care. You're moaning shamelessly now, aware of nothing but his weight on top of you, how full you are, and the way his cocks throb inside and against you.

"I think I'm going to come," you whimper, gripping his mane and tugging at it.

"Go on," he huffs, his hips accentuating his command, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "I'm right behind you. Can I come inside you?"

"Please, oh yes please!" You exclaim. "Don't you dare pull out."

His eyes brighten, even as his lip curls rather scarily. You bite down hard on your lip as you come, struggling to contain yourself. Your orgasm is so forceful that your entire body jerks even though you're pinned under his weight. He shoves his cock as far as it can go, growling so loud that you feel it rattle through your body.

His first cock spurts molten heat on your belly, and it drips down the side, soaking the sheets. You love the way his hips jerk with the aftershocks and pull him close so you can feel everything, even the way his heart thumps in his chest.

"I almost didn't stop myself from biting you," he says, swiping his thumb over the flesh between your shoulder and neck, the prime biting spot.

"I take shots to prevent any unwanted consequences, we all do," you tell him. "You can bite me next time."

His eyes crinkle in amusement. "Next time," he says, and it sounds like a promise.

•─────✧─────•

I was living for their banter. 👌

#exophilia #monster x reader #monster lover #monster fucker #monster x human #monster smut #grumpy x sunshine

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shanastoryteller · 5 months

Note

Happy happy halloween 👻🎃🦇

I’d love more MDZS Identity Porn (the one where LWJ marries the Yiling Patriarch and is cursed with jealousy about all the nice men his new husband is close to) (Or JC traveling back in time?) Thanks!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4

Madame Yu will not look at his husband.

It's odd, because while the enchantments on the mask make it impossible for others to see him clearly, most cannot take their eyes off of him. He is the Yiling Patriarch, the war hero who tamed the Burial Mounts, who claims the loyalty of the man that is the Nie's discarded general and Jin Guangshan's bastard son, and who allowed Wen Ruohan's niece to act as his voice. He's married the second heir of the Lan, and that alone would cause him to get scrutiny from the other major clans' leadership.

Jiang Yanli looks at Wei Wuxian with an intensity that still makes jealousy curl in his stomach, but Lan Wangji attempts to dismiss it. Wei Wuxian finds him attractive and married him and Jiang Yanli has her own fiance and does not reside within the burial mounds and is not his wife. If there's any competition between them, it's one Lan Wangji has already won.

Yet he remembers Wei Wuxian throwing himself in the path of the blade meant for Jiang Yanli, how he pushed for her to be healed even before him when there wasn't a scratch on her.

Jiang Cheng and Jiang Fengmian act normally, showing the same level of interest as the rest of the people who keep glancing in their direction.

Madame Yu and her daughter have equally intense reactions that he can't explain, although those reactions are clear opposites.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #untamed

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all-mirth-no-matter · 1 year

Text

Time After Time | Chapter Nine

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: You’re invited to stay the night at the Delphi camp. Despite the the way you feel after your reading, Tommy urges you not to cause trouble and to pretend like everything’s okay until you leave in the morning. Easier said than done…

Warning: language, alcohol, harassment, ethnic slur, almost smut

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter Nine: Dancing in the Moonlight

We like our fun and we never fight. You can't dance and stay uptight, it's a supernatural delight. Everybody was dancin' in the moonlight. — Dancing in the Moonlight, King Harvest

You were not a light weight.

Working in a bar for many years and having learned quite a few drinking games in college, your tolerance for alcohol had grown to an impressive height.

At least, that’s what you thought.

The thing was, having traveled back a hundred years, the food and drinks were a completely different animal.

For starters, just the simple access to food was something that, even to this day, you were still getting adjusted to. For the first month, you didn’t think you’d ever go a day when the subtle ache in your stomach from hunger would subside. It felt like a permanent fixture of your daily routine at that point.

You seriously could not wait until home refrigerators became an affordable thing. Or non-mice-infested pantries.

The hunger began to ease once your friendship with Ada deepened and your job with the Shelbys became routine. You weren’t sure if Polly could instinctively sense your in-neediness, or if it was just part of her caretaker character after looking after her niece and nephews for most of their lives — but either way, Polly was always shoving a plate or cup of something in front of you when you found yourself sitting in the family kitchen or the sitting room.

You thought it was odd at first, especially at the beginning when you didn’t think she liked you at all. But eventually you came to understand, and appreciate.

That appreciation bloomed tenfold when the boys came back and you stopped going over to the Shelby house for a couple weeks. Especially on the days when you were so busy and worked at the pub for such long hours, you’d get home and realized you hadn’t had a bite to eat at all since you woke up that morning.

You didn’t let yourself have too many of those days before you got smart, thinking ahead to stash some food in the pub office to eat on a break or when you got off work.

Thankfully, the night you’d played your drinking game with Tommy had been one of those days when you’d remembered to eat.

Today, you were beginning to realize, had not been one of those days.

After you and Tommy left Madam Despoina’s caravan, Johnny Dogs led you both to a bon fire and a blur of people shoved a plate of something in your right hand and a cup of something else in your left.

Not giving a flying fuck in the world about what was in the cup, you knew it had to be alcohol and you were desperate for some kind of solace from the absolute madness that you’d just had to endure.

So you downed the cup. And an instant later, someone was refilling it and you graciously downed it again without even so much as looking at your plate.

How did they expect you to eat after everything that’d just happened? How did Tommy expect you to just hang out with these people like their leader hadn’t just mind fucked the hell out of you? How were you supposed to act normal, like nothing happened, when you couldn’t even understand how your feet were moving under your body at this very moment?

Your cup was full again. By the time you felt a pair of hands grab your waist and pull you toward a seat by the fire, it was empty.

Without even looking to see who’s hands were on you, you knew it was Tommy. You should have been over analyzing the way your body had grown so comfortable with these small touches so quickly, but your brain was fritzing too much to appreciate again.

“You need to relax,” you heard softly, the vibrate of his voice against your ear and body heat against your side made you shutter.

Someone came over to refill your glass again, but before you could raise it to your lips, Tommy relinquished the drink from your grasp. Your brow furrowed as you looked over at him, noticing him give a pointed look at the refiller before meeting your eyes.

His brow lifted at your confusion and nodded toward the still untouched plate in your other hand. “Not ‘nother sip until you eat.”

You pouted slightly, missing the way his stern expression turned into amusement by your disappointment as you started to dig into the meat.

“If you expect me to relax and be sober tonight after what just happened, you’re crazy —“

“What I expect is for you to not cause trouble, to play merry guest to our hosts so that we get out of here unscathed in the morning,” his deep low voice vibrated through you once more at his closeness, and it made you shiver again.

He mistook your body’s reaction to his voice for being cold and wrapped his arm around you, rubbing your shoulder to try and warm you up while ordering you to keep eating. His body felt like a fortress around yours, and your brain began to slow in its spiraling.

You looked up at Tommy, watching the light from the fire dance across his brilliant blues as they continued to scan your surroundings. A feeling crept up in you as you outlined the profile of his face, focusing on where sharp lines met soft curves until you felt him pull you even closer to him, the arm around you tightening.

“May we help you?”

For a moment you thought Tommy was talking to you, having been so focused on him that you hadn’t heard anyone else approach the two of you.

Your head finally turned and your eyes adjusted until they landed on the man who escorted the three of you into the camp standing in front of you. His eyes were moving between you and Tommy, lingering longer on you, which caused Tommy’s grip to tighten again.

“Just wanted to see if the lady wanted to dance,” the man replied, sounding innocent enough as he stepped aside and gestured to the group of people dancing next to the fire. Music was playing somewhere on the other side and you were surprised that you hadn’t noticed it before.

“Perhaps later,” Tommy answered for you. “After she’s had a chance to finish eating.”

The plate that was still in your hand suddenly felt heavy at his words, remembering his instructions.

You were hating that in the last couple days, you felt like your brain was constantly trying to catch up with your surroundings. Usually you prided yourself on your awareness, but ever since Tommy flew into your life it felt like you couldn’t keep up.

It didn’t help that you were at least moderately buzzed at this point.

“Dancing would be fun,” you said, mostly to yourself, once the man left.

You felt Tommy sigh as you continued to pick off another piece of the meat.

“Fine,” Tommy said, rising from his seat. You shivered at the quick removal of his body heat from your side as you looked up at him confused. He offered his hand to you, “Let’s dance.”

“Um,” you hesitated, but moved to set down your plate as you took his hand and he pulled you upright. Your eyes scanned the bon fire where the others were dancing as Tommy led you closer, his hand on your back. “I, um — I actually don’t really know how to dance.”

“Really?” He seemed genuinely surprised at your reveal, pulling you closer to him as you got to the dirt dance floor. “Well, allow me the honor of teachin’ you.”

He smiled as he faced you, taking your right hand in his and you instinctively placed your left hand on his shoulder. Your eyes continued to scan behind Tommy, trying to take in the motions of those around you to mimic as best you could. You saw Johnny Dogs spinning a woman around, both enjoying themselves to the upbeat tempo. There didn’t seem to be a pattern, but everyone looked like they knew exactly what they were doing. It eerily reminded you of dance clubs back in your time — rhythmic chaos.

“Eyes here,” Tommy’s soft voice snapped your eyes back to his, feeling his hand settle once again at the base of your back, pulling you closer to him. “The dancin’ at a gypsy camp is much different than a ballroom. You’ll find it’s quite difficult to waltz when the mud sticks to your soles.”

You chuckled at that, still feeling a little insecure as he began to move, taking a step backwards, and then forward, as your bodies began to hop to the beat. It was simple, like walking. But you couldn’t stop your eyes from watching your feet, unsure where Tommy’s lead was going to take you and paranoid that you’d step on his feet.

“Eyes, Y/N,” Tommy said again, his voice with more authority but still amused as you looked sheepishly back up at him. He chuckled, “If you watch your feet you’re bound to trip. Keep your eyes on your partner and your body will follow.”

“Tell that to your feet later,” you countered, still skeptic in his advice.

“Everyone can do the foxtrot — even me.”

Your chin nudged to the people beside you, who were dancing much wilder than you and Tommy. “And them? What dance are they doing?”

Tommy shrugged, “A variety, I suppose. Looks fun, dunnit?”

At that, Tommy pushed you outward and whipped the hand still holding yours so you’d spin back into him, your arm and his now wrapped around you as your body collided with his. You squealed in surprise, returning back to your original position. Tommy was smiling down at you as he pulled you in closer, moving your bodies faster than previous as the music quickened.

“It’s not far off from the dancing you do in the Garrison,” he reminded you. Your mouth opened to counter, a flush of embarrassment of him having watched you dance and sing when you thought you were alone in the pub, but he stopped you. “Just have fun with it. Don’t think, just feel.”

You hushed your original response and squeezed your lips together. Your eyes moved between his, “First horse steering, now dancing. What else can you teach me?”

He hummed, his cheek rising in amusement as his gaze moved lower to your lips.

Of course, Johnny Dogs chose that time to approach the two of you, dancing happily and obliviously as he shouted his greeting over the music.

“Johnny would be a much better teacher of dancing, I’m afraid you’ve exhausted my abilities,” Tommy said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. You doubted his words, but Johnny perked up at the compliment and bowed dramatically, offering his hand to you politely.

You hesitated, not wanting to leave the comfort of Tommy’s embrace. Before you could counter, Tommy was handing you off and taking a step back. You missed the warning look shared between Tommy and Johnny Dogs as the latter pulled you closer to the group.

You looked behind you as Tommy walked back toward the log you’d previously been sitting at, his hands shoving into his pockets.

Some time passed (ten minutes, an hour, you had no idea) and you were learning that Johnny Dogs was an excellent distraction from your own intrusive thoughts. That, and the drink that kept appearing in your hands. By the fourth or fifth time Johnny Dogs had you spinning with his hand over your head, you found yourself thinking less about the circumstances of where you were and why, and even less about your out-of-time dancing skills, and actually began to relax.

And though you missed the intimacy of Tommy’s dancing, you found that Johnny Dogs was wonderful company. He was a good-time-Charlie if you’d ever seen one, and kept you smiling and laughing with every hop, skip, and beat.

You were spinning again, giggling as you kept your eyes closed before your body collided into another. The person grabbed your waist, and for a moment you thought it was Tommy finally coming back to join you.

But you quickly realized that the touch wasn’t the same, and turned until you faced the man who’d asked you to dance earlier.

You still didn’t know his name, but he smiled and pulled you in closer, taking your right hand into his left and sliding his right hand around to your back. He held you like he knew you, and all your instincts told you to pull away. But you couldn’t help but hear Tommy’s voice in the back of your mind telling you to behave, play nice until morning.

“Finally let you off his leash, did’he?” The man said with a wicked grin as he pulled you closer to him.

You narrowed your eyes at the implication that you were some kind of dog, and was about to say so when he continued.

“Madam Despoina told us you were someone special,” he went on, his eyes scanning your face, “said to be on our best behavior and to leave ya be. We were placing bets on who ya were. My guess was the missing princess.”

Your brow creased at that, for a moment forgetting the creepy grip and focusing on his words. “Missing princess?”

He chuckled, “Aye. Many a royal blood ‘as come to our camp or requested the Madam’s presence. You’d be surprised how many queens and princesses I’ve seen since joining the camp. They’re never as pretty as you expect them to be. You on the other hand—“

His finger ran down the side of your face before you shrugged away, his hand still around your waist.

“I was wrong though. No way you’re the missing princess. I’ve ‘eard Russians before, and they sound nothin’ like ya.”

Russian princess? You thought, trying to filter through your rolodex of historical royals. The obvious came to mind.

“Anastasia? Really?” your voice was less humorous and more ‘are you an idiot’ sounding than you’d meant.

The infliction didn’t go unnoticed. The man’s smiling face hardened slightly and his grip around your hand tightened. You immediately regretted your tone and looked over your shoulder to where Tommy had been sitting, but the log was empty.

“He’s gone,” the man said, knowing who you were looking for. “Went to get his own fortune told, no doubt. Men will pay or do anything for an audience with the Pythia.”

It seemed the old woman carried on the tradition of her ancestors. You wondered if this man was right and tried to discretely look around the camp for him, or even Johnny Dogs. Anyone to keep you from doing something that you’d later get in trouble for.

“Come on, doll face. What, are ya not having fun with me?” he asked, his voice back to what it’d been previously. It reminded you of every guy who’d never taken no for an answer back in your day.

“I’m just tired,” you finally mustered, trying to pull away from his grip. “I want to go find my friends.”

“Tired, huh? I can find you a place to lay down—”

“I don’t think so,” your voice stronger, your resolve to behave quickly starting to crack with the way this guy wouldn’t let go of you. “Please, let go of me.”

“But you’re drunk, love. Wouldn’t want’ya to fall. That face is so pretty. The Madam wouldn’t forgive me if I let anything happen to ya.” His grip tightened enough to pull your body close against him, this time without the pretense of dancing. He lifted his hand and moved your hair behind your ear, your skin flinching at his touch as you tried to shrug away again.

You looked around to see if anyone else was noticing the harassment, but during your dance he’d managed to pull far enough from the fire where no one was paying the two of you any mind.

“I doubt she’d be happy with you pushing yourself on her guest,” you tried to bite out, still trying to maintain some kind of politeness even though you were two seconds away from kicking the guy in the balls and running.

His eyes narrowed and smile began to fall as his hand grabbed the side of your head, his fingers forcing your face to look up at him while his thumb spread harshly along your cheek. “She said you were important. That you had a gift. Know what that says to me? That you can make someone a lot of money, eh?”

“Get the fuck off me,” you finally spit, balling up the man’s shirt in your fists that were sandwiched between your bodies as you tried to push him away.

But his grip tightened as his head began to move closer to your face. You thought for sure he was going to try and force himself on you, and you were already prepping to slam your head into his face before his lips could even try and touch yours.

You didn’t get the chance to. Suddenly, the man was being pulled backwards and Tommy’s face appeared over his shoulder.

“Mind tellin’ me what you’re doing?” Tommy asked the man, surprisingly calm.

The man shoved out of his grasp and shook his shoulders. “We were just dancin’!”

You scoffed, “Yeah, and I’ll dance my foot in your ass the next time you grab me like that!”

The man growled, taking a step forward toward you before Tommy grabbed him by the collar, fist full of shirt as he pivoted himself between the two of you and pulled him closer to his face.

“Do you know who I am?”

The man tried to shove away, but Tommy’s grip was strong and moved to his throat. The creep looked between his captor and then to you, as if you could save him. As if you’d even try. He finally coughed and nodded.

“So you know what I do. I give you this chance because we are guests of Madam Despoina and we’re not here to make enemies. But I’ll promise you this, there will not be another chance. The next time you lay a finger on her, my blade goes through your fucking throat.”

Tommy let go of him, nearly shoving him to the ground in the process. While the man tried to catch his breath, Tommy reached behind him until your hand was safely in his own. He pulled you to his side, his eyes finally leaving the other man as you both walked back toward the fire.

Johnny Dogs was running your way, his eyes reading the situation as he looked behind you and began an apology.

“Save it,” Tommy spat. “Just make sure the horses are ready by dawn. We’re going to the caravan.”

Johnny nodded and you gave him an apologetic look. It wasn’t his fault that the creep had led you away. You weren’t a child and he wasn’t a baby sitter. But you doubted Tommy wasn’t thinking that way.

He brought you to another wagon similar to the one Johnny Dogs had been driving, parked along the outskirts of the campsite. There was a small fire just outside, and a rope tied from the wagon to the nearby tree.

You were about to walk in, the drunk part of your brain (who was trying to detach from the traumatic experience you’d just been a part of) eager to see what the inside of this caravan looked like, when Tommy stopped you.

His grip made you jump, pulling away from it quickly, your defensive guard still sensitive after what had just happened. Tommy held up his hands, obviously reading the situation and silently apologizing.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, his hand reaching up to gently touch your face as his eyes scanned you over.

You breathed out a humorless chuckle at his calmness, “How are you always so— god, you nearly killed that man after he tried to—“ your voice was surprisingly weak as the words died in your throat.

It wasn’t the first time a man had been grabby with you. Even before your trip to the past, working in a bar and just the everyday life of a girl who enjoyed the occasional night out with her friends. You’d had guys grab you, push themselves against you, even forcibly kiss you. Thankfully, you’d never had anything go further than that. After a time that came too close with a boy you thought was a good friend, you took some self defense classes with your girl friends and started integrating kick-boxing into your workout routine. Since then, you’d only had to use your new skills a handful of times, and luckily each time you’d been able to get away or have the man back off. Even now, in the 20th century, you’d only had to physically fight off one man at the pub, and you’d been lucky to have Harry as backup. But you knew not to let your guard down, especially when you walked the streets after dark.

What happened to you just now, well it felt much different. It wasn’t a drunkard trying to cop a feel. This man felt like he wanted to own you, control you. And you hated feeling like you couldn’t fight back, all because of whatever social standard bullshit this was supposed to be.

Suddenly, you were angry at Tommy for having put you in that position in the first place.

“It took everything for me not to slice his fuckin’ neck open the minute I saw his hands on you,” Tommy replied, his eyes revealing the silent rage behind them. “But that would have spawned a vendetta and a bullet with my name on it by the Delphi family.”

“That what Madam Despoina told you would happen?” you asked, deciding to test the creep’s theory.

Tommy’s brow creased at your query, his mouth tightened and you already knew your answer.

“I had to settle payment for our visit,” he explained evenly. “This wasn’t exactly a favor.”

Your anger evaporated as the realities of the situation came into view through your slightly more sober stupor. “How much? Whatever it was, I’ll pay you. Take it out of my paycheck, whatever you need to do.”

Tommy huffed, shaking his head before he started messing with the fire. “Drop it, Y/N—“

“I’m not a hand out, Tommy. And I’m not a doll to be played with at the will of everyone around me,” your voice was harsher than you meant it to be, obviously still affected by the days events.

It was more than that, even. Your mother, the time jump, being a woman in the 1910s — you were constantly feeling like you were at the mercy of everyone else controlling your life, your future.

Tommy stood up and cautiously approached you, still sensitive to what you’d just gone through. You suddenly felt dizzy — the alcohol, the adrenaline, the lack of food all in your system. Your knees buckled slightly like a scene out of a cheesy rom-com and Tommy caught you, pulling you against him to stabilize you.

Your body froze, for a moment feeling like it was in danger again. But you immediately recognized the familiarity of Tommy’s grip and found yourself relaxing into it, trusting his hold on you.

“You’re a strong woman,” he mused softly, lifting your head up to look at him. “I know you were holding yourself back for my sake. Next time, don’t.”

You all but growled, “You told me to behave.”

“Aye. And I behaved enough for leaving him uncut. But I’d rather face the curse of a fuckin’ angry gypsy than have someone even come close to threatening you again.”

Tommy blinked at his words, obviously surprising himself with them along with you. You didn’t know the first thing about Romani curses, but you knew enough to realize that what Tommy had just said meant something serious.

He cleared his throat, his grip still holding onto you. “I’ll find out from Johnny Dogs who he is in the mornin’. Whoever he is, he’s high enough to be given escort duties. Believe me, I’ll make sure his actions don’t go unnoticed.”

You nodded, surprisingly okay with letting him take the reigns in how to handle this situation.

“Go on now,” he nudged you toward the caravan. “The clothes we packed are inside. Change, and I’ll hang up your dress on the line so the mud dries by morning.”

At his words, you lifted up your skirt and felt the heaviness of the wet mud soaked in the fabric. You surprised yourself with how used to the dirt you’d gotten, not even noticing the weight anymore or that your socks were always just slightly damp.

You climbed up the stairs and sat at the top, leaning forward to unlace your boots and slide off your shoes and sock. He tied the laces of your boots together and hung them and your socks over the line.

You sent Tommy another look as you stood up at the top of the stairs, half worried that he’d disappear again like he had when he left you to dance.

He seemed to recognize your look and moved to the doorway. This was the first time you’d ever been taller than Tommy, and you took in the new angle of his face as your fingers itched to reach out.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, love. Go, get dry and warm. I’ll stand guard right here where you can see me.”

Silently, you nodded as you finally entered the caravan.

Inside, an oil lamp and a few candles were lit so you could see, and you were surprised at how big the inside was. It was different than the one you’d been in to meet Madam Despoina. It was interesting how much it resembled a modern day sleeping RV — bed palette against the back wall, vanity to your right, even a small stove and fireplace to your left. You ran your hand along the wall and marveled at the beauty of the carvings and ornate decorations that lavished the space. The whole thing was absolutely beautiful and you wanted to meticulously look at every single piece of art that was this caravan.

Your foot hit the bag Tommy had packed you and you remembered what you were there for, rummaging through and grabbing the nightgown Tommy had shoved in there without you realizing. Luckily, it’d been one of the clean ones, and you sent a quick prayer to whatever god you needed to be thanking for this miracle. Even if you were in the 1910s, you’d still be mortified if you had to share a bed with a man wearing dirty clothes.

You paused, both realizing and wondering if you actually were going to be sharing this bed with Tommy tonight. On the vanity, there was an empty bowl and pitcher of water. You peeled out of your warm clothes, peeking over your shoulder to double check that the door was still closed while still being able to see Tommy’s silhouette through the stained glass. The cold air hit your skin, and you were suddenly thankful for this centuries insistence on wearing multiple layers of clothing.

You sacrificed a splash or two of water from the pitcher to give yourself a quick hand wash, focusing on the essentials at the moment — your hands, face, neck, arm pits, under your breasts, and between your legs, even swishing some in your mouth and spitting it into the unlit fireplace. You gave yourself a sniff with semi-satisfaction (not that you trusted your sense of smell at all anymore, though being out of Birmingham and in the outdoors definitely increased the aroma in the air) before finally throwing on the nightgown.

You appraised yourself in the small vanity mirror, pulling the pins out of your hair and combing it with your fingers until some of the tangles released. In the nightgown, a scene from the movie The Mummy came to mind and you felt like Evie from the boat scene, realizing that in just a few fictional years Brendan Fraser would be battling over the City of the Dead.

Shaking the frivolous thought from your head, you gathered up your clothes and finally walked back toward the door, knocking on it before opening. Tommy took them from you and secured them on the line before standing back in front of the doorway. His eyes took you in, and you suddenly felt shy, questioning the sheerness of the nightgown with the light illuminating behind you.

“Oh, you need to change too!” You realized, almost jumping as you tried to figure out where you needed to go in order for him to do that.

“Hand me the bag, I can change out here.”

Your brow creased. “It’s way too cold out here for you to do that.”

“It’s too cold for you to stand out here in just that as well,” he responded, gesturing toward you. Feeling even more exposed, you found yourself crossing your arms over your chest, as if that could hide anything.

He took off his jacket, and for the first time you noticed the shoulder holster. He hadn’t had it on the other night, which you found curious, and you were realizing that aside from the blade in his hat, this was the first time you were seeing Tommy Shelby with a weapon.

Your eyes moved with the movement of his hands as he began to unhooked his watch chain before putting it and the watch back in the pocket. He shrugged off the holster, cradling it in the bend of his arm as he started unbuttoning his vest. The motion snapped you out of your gaze as you stood there awkwardly, wondering if you should be turning away to give him his privacy when he handed the contents and his hat to you. “Hang these on the hook inside.”

You moved at his instructions, ready to make yourself busy. Before you could return to the doorway, Tommy was making his way up the steps. You noticed he’d hung up his breeches, socks, and shoes, as well as put out the fire. He stood in the doorway in nothing but his pants, shirt, and shoulder holster, waiting for permission to enter the caravan from you.

Grabbing the bag that wasn’t yours, you handed it to him and cleared your throat, trying to keep your eyes from staring too long.

In the past few months since you’d arrived in 1918, you’d been so preoccupied with surviving and trying to figure out what was going on, your love life had been the very last thing on your mind. Even before you time jumped, you’d been going through a dry spell in your dating life.

Tommy Shelby had reignited something that you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. And despite every reasonable argument you’d had with yourself since the moment you met him, you absolutely couldn’t deny your attraction to him on both an emotional and physical level.

Suffice it to say, it’d been quite a while since you’d been alone with a man in a bedroom before. And of all the things, there was no way being alone with a 1918’s gangster in his underwear was on your time travel bingo card.

You were wondering if they had the game bingo yet while Tommy rummaged through the bag, grabbing a pair of socks and handing them to you.

“These are bound to be much warmer than whatever is in your bag. First rule we learned in France durin’ the winter was to always keep our head and feet warm and dry.”

Unsure how to respond, you grabbed the socks and followed his orders again. You realized what a militant follower you were when you had no idea what to do with yourself or how to handle your own awkwardness. As you sat on the bed and put on the socks, you watched Tommy start up the fireplace easily, mumbling something about wishing he’d done it earlier. But you were already starting to feel warmer with the door shut, the thicker socks, and the extra body heat within the small space.

You were trying to convince yourself that it was safe falling asleep in this wooden box with a fire burning when Tommy’s voice grew louder.

“Right, that’ll do it,” he said when he finished, rising from the floor.

You were still seated on the edge of the bed when he turned toward you. The air grew thick with a tension you easily recognized but refused to name.

He cleared his throat, dropping his head as he looked down at his feet. “I’ll take the floor. I grabbed the extra blankets when I brought in our bags.”

Your brow creased as you looked from Tommy to the hard, wooden floor, and then behind you to the bed you still sat on. The palette was easily wide enough to fit the two of you.

“That’s silly,” you found yourself saying before you could stop yourself. Tommy paused putting together his makeshift bed and his eyes snapped to yours. You forced your heart to slow and tried to appear cool. “There’s no way I’m letting you sleep on the ground when there’s plenty of room on the mattress.”

“I didn’t want to impose,” he said cautiously, not yet moving to join you on the bed but also not continuing to make the spot on the floor.

“We’re not teenagers. I think we can control ourselves,” you chuckled, trying to convince both Tommy and yourself that this was the only reasonable option. “I can trust you, right?”

You surprised yourself with the vulnerability behind your question. Your voice must have implied the same because Tommy’s throat bobbed as he considered it.

The truth was, you did trust him. The rational part of your brain was calling you crazy, especially after what had just happened. But there was something deep in your gut that made you irrationally feel safe in Tommy’s company. You’d been alone with this man more than you had been with him in the company of others, you realized, and this was nothing different.

You’d just be laying in a bed. Alone. In your underwear.

“Yes,” Tommy answered simply, though the strength in his voice held the weight of the implication. “I’d like to still sleep closest to the door, if you don't mind.”

You shook your head, scooting backwards on the mattress until you hit the back wall.

“You sure you don’t mind?” Tommy asked as he approached the bed, throwing the blankets at the foot. “The camp may talk.”

Your brow creased. “Don’t they already think that we’re together anyway, since they only offered us the one caravan to stay in?”

Tommy shrugged, moving to sit at the edge of the bed, leaning against the wall to face you. “Perhaps. But I could have slept in the wagon we came in, or in Johnny’s caravan.”

“I guess,” you replied, leaning back against the opposite wall. “So why didn’t you?”

He breathed out of his nose before reaching to scratch his neck. “I left you alone once tonight. I’m not plannin’ to do that again, not here at least. If you weren’t comfortable with me staying inside the van, I’d spend the entire night sitting against the door. I’d still do that, if you decide to change your mind.”

You felt your face blush slightly, instinctively moved by the protectiveness of his words. A few hours ago you may have protested against needing the bodyguard-like protection, stating that you could take care of yourself just fine. But after the crazy day you’d had — the dream, the reading, the creep — you decided to give in and let him have his way without the usual color commentary.

Your pride would never let yourself admit it out loud, but in this moment, you welcomed the safety he was offering and tried to not read too much into it.

“I’m sorry again for that. I shouldn’t have left you.”

You shrugged, trying to rationalize the situation. “It’s no one’s fault. He was determined to get me alone, it would have happened regardless. I’m just glad you got there before I knocked his teeth in. Or something worse.”

You both remained silent for a beat.

“I wish you hadn’t left, though. I was enjoying dancing with you.”

He scoffed, “I saw how much fun you were having with Johnny Dogs. He’s a much better dancer than I am. You were loosening up more with him.”

You shrugged. “I would have gotten there with you, if you’d stayed. You make me nervous, sometimes.”

Tommy hummed, an amused smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “You didn’t seem nervous in the wagon.”

Your eyes met his, searching to see the exact meaning behind his words. He was talking about your move to kiss him, though he hadn’t said it outright.

“I was. You hesitated,” your voice softer than you intended, your own insecurities prevalent.

He breathed in as his eyes flashed down to your lips and then back to meet your eyes. “I’m a cautious man, Y/N.”

“And you don’t trust me,” you swallowed, your eyes dropping down to the spot beside him as Tommy’s own words from earlier that morning rang through your head.

You heard him breath in deeply through his nose before exhaling. At the feel of him pushing himself off the bed, your eyes moved back to him as you watched him walk to your side of the caravan before sitting back down.

“I’ll admit, that was an oversimplification to our current situation,” he said as he lifted his hand to your face, his eyes watching your reaction.

You hated how desperate you wanted him to say he trusted you. So much so, your brain began to scramble to find the words to tell him everything right then and there.

“Tommy,” you breathed out, your mouth ghosting against his as your body instinctively leaned forward.

“You have secrets, but no lies. I can accept that and reciprocate.”

“I don’t want secrets,” you managed to say honestly as your eyes moved between his.

“Aye. Neither do I. But until then,” his voice died as his thumb brushed across your cheek and his pointer lifted your chin the half inch it needed to line your lips up to his.

There was no hesitation this time. Tommy kissed you with purpose and depth as his hands raked through your hair to cradle your neck. You met his attention with gusto to match, your hands moving from his chest to his back as you pulled yourself closer.

When he began to pull away, your arms flexed to keep him against you. You felt his mouth smirk as it hovered over yours, your forehead still pressed against his own before your lips met his again. Your kiss demanded to know why he continued to hold himself back.

His only response was to tilt his head and open his mouth as his thumb stroked the pulse at your neck before wrapping around your waist. Without warning, he lifted you up and pulled you onto his lap, your legs instinctively wrapping around him as your hands held on to his shoulders. Your fingers found purchase in his hair as you leaned his head back to connect your lips again.

His hands raked across the expanse of your back and up your sides, his thumb ghosting against the swell of your breasts in an aching tease. On instinct, your hips rolled forward, desperate for some kind of friction to the tightly wound tension that’d been building since the minute you’d seen each other down at the Cut. Tommy’s grip tightened as he groaned at the motion, the evidence of his own enjoyment of your body against his clear as your hips moved to repeat.

A loud bang at the caravan door caused you both to jump, whipping your heads toward the noise as you gasped. For a moment, you were worried it was the man from earlier back for round two. A second knock followed by a voice calling for Tommy determined it was Johnny Dogs. You let out a relieved breath before it turned to annoyance — how did that man always manage to interrupt you both just when things were starting to get good. You huffed, still trying to slow your heart rate as your forehead met Tommy’s again.

“Jesus fuckin—“ Tommy swore as he sucked in a harsh breath between his teeth at the third loud knock.

He took your face between his hands before kissing you again. A fourth knock finally had him pulling away from you as you crawled off his lap.

“Someone’d better be dying,” he said under his breath as he ran his hand across his face and walked across the caravan toward the door. He shouted from the inside of the still closed door, “What?”

“It’s Madam Despoina,” Johnny Dogs said from the other side. “She wants a word. Now.”

>> next chapter << chapter masterlist

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wndaswife · 1 year

Text

do i own you?

「 Thérèse Raquin x gn!Reader 」

Tags: smut, fluff, jealousy, possessiveness, loss of virginity, cunnilingus, tribbing, praise, sub!thérèse raquin, dom!afab!reader. MINORS DNI.

Word count: 6563

Summary: As Madame Raquin searches for suitors for her niece, you claim Thérèse as your own before she is paired with another.

The sun beamed down on Passage du Pont Neuf and blanketed the narrow passageway in a dense humidity.

You walked through the almost-bustling flow of people, eyes darting around at the small shops on either side of the stony path. It’s been three years since Thérèse moved away from the countryside, away from Vernon and into the city.

Fortunately, you didn’t live very far from Madame’s haberdashery, which was also the Raquin family’s new place of residence, meaning that you didn’t have to stop visiting Thérèse as often as you did when they lived in the country. You helped them unpack their things and go shopping for supplies, went on walks with Thérèse and explored much of Paris together.

You felt that perhaps you’d gotten even closer with her since they moved, if that was possible given that you’d known her family since childhood, because there was so much more freedom in Paris.

When visiting, which was every day of the week besides Tuesday when you worked overtime, you’d arrive just after work in the late afternoon and take strolls with Thérèse every evening before you left. On your days off from work, you’d arrive just before the haberdashery opened and stayed until the moment after Thérèse fell asleep, listening to you read to her cuddled up by your side in her bed.

It was always a great pain to part from her, especially when you brought her blankets up to her chin once she fell asleep and kissed her forehead on those days off, but you took solace in the fact that you’d always see her the next day, whereas if it was Monday you’d see her in two days, which was even more agonising.

Upon entry to the shop, Madame promptly led you to the kitchen where she sat you down across Thérèse and filled your plate with fruit and bread with marmalade. You looked up at Thérèse, who seemed particularly irritated. Your lips parted to whisper over to her before Madame interjected.

“Y/N, you’re rather involved in your place of work,” she began. “Are there any… worthy suitors you know of? They could come to our Thursday games, have them introduced to our dear Thérèse.”

Thérèse huffed in vexation, “Madame, do not involve Y/N, please.”

The older woman only laughed, seeing in her young niece’s expression that she was only bashful when she was instead rather exasperated. She was an innocent girl in her eyes, after all, virginal-pure and timid.

“I am only looking out for you, Thérèse,” she teased. “Besides, you’ve come of marriageable age and you mustn’t wait even another year to find a proper suitor; a man’s attraction for women tends to decline once they become older than twenty-one, and I want to ensure a good life for my niece.”

Your childhood friend looked up at you from her half-eaten toast. A faint humoured grin formed on her lips as you exchanged an unamused look between each other. She took the last bite of her food then stood up from the table.

“I think I ought to discuss this with Y/N in private,” she said and rounded the table to you. She looped an arm around yours and lifted you from your seat.

Madame protested, encouraging you to finish your food before you left, but Thérèse whisked you away and up the stairs, finally locking the two of you in her bedroom.

She sighed out and immediately began dressing down to her corset and petticoat. Her constrictive clothes dropped to the floor and she fell forward onto her bed.

“Do you have any suitors in mind?” she asked, looking over at you and grinning playfully. She laid onto her back, stretching her arms back and rolling onto her side to look at you.

She got up and crawled over to you as you stood at the opposite edge of the bed. She got onto her knees, straightening so she could kneel in front of you and face you. She tugged at the collar of your blouse.

“I’m a young woman, Y/N, my womb is ready to bring forth an abundance of fruit, my hips are of an appropriate child-bearing width,” she continued to tease. “You must help me find a fine man to cultivate my youth.”

Finally you gave in despite the weariness you felt about Madame selling Thérèse off into marriage. “I shall search for one with urgent haste, my lady,” you jested, “for your beauty should melt away the very moment you turn twenty-two.”

Thérèse giggled and she pulled you down onto her. You fell forward onto her bed, Thérèse laughing against your chest as she forced you to lay down. Your legs hung off the bed and you laid on your back beside her. She held her head up with her cheek in her palm, knees brought up so they pressed against your thigh.

Her long brown hair spilled down her arms, her soft skin dusted lightly in freckles and beauty marks. Her cheeks were flushed a soft pink, her full lips pulled into a spirited grin. Eyes the shade of moss and moldavites and sparkling with girlish innocence looked down at you.

“What do you think I should do?” she asked more seriously.

You shrugged. “I can’t imagine you married.”

She laid down, her head resting on your chest. “I can,” she said.

Your hand came up to her hair and you ran your fingers through it softly. “Truly?”

“But not the way Madame envisions it,” she elaborated. “It’d be something different, with someone I desire to be with.”

“Do you think such a marriage is possible?” you inquired.

Thérèse rose from your body, arms laid against your chest. She laid her head back down, her cheek squished against her hand. “I think love and intimacy are always much closer than they appear,” she answered.

The next day, a Thursday, you head to the evening game at the Raquin household with your coworker Laurent, who was also a mutual friend of Camille.

Earlier, you’d accidentally mentioned that a woman you knew was in pursuit of a suitor for her niece. It was mid-conversation and a minor detail brought up only to prove a greater point, but Laurent, ever the gluttonous woman-thirsty animal, hooked onto the mention of Thérèse.

That was how you found yourself standing in front of Madame’s haberdashery, responding to a dimwitted Laurent’s questions about Thérèse with disinterested sighs and nods.

“You’ve been friends with the young woman for an amount of time,” said Laurent. He turned to you, hands in his pocket and looking like an ill-mannered hound. “Would you say she knows well how to pleasure a man?”

You nearly knocked him and his lopsided smile off the stone steps had it not been for Thérèse’s cousin opening the front door for the both of you.

“Laurent!” he cheered, completely disregarding you at the sight of his friend as a man with a childlike mental capacity would. “Come in.”

You liked Camille enough to be civil, you truly did, but he had a habit of embracing horrid men like Laurent, patting them on the back and introducing them to his mother and such. He was like that, and though an underdeveloped child even in mentality, you couldn’t help but despise him, especially as you watched him help the dark-haired dunce with his jacket.

Camille wrapped an arm around the wretched man and escorted him inside. He was introduced to Madame while you took your coat off.

Thérèse looked through the huddle of people at you, smiling excitedly at your arrival. Then Camille ushered Laurent forward and a shadow of uncertainty and timidity was cast over her face.

There was an exchange between them that you did not listen to. Thérèse was led into the dining room with his hand on her lower back though she was the one who resided in the shop while he did not, and Madame thanked you for bringing home such a lovely man.

She didn’t often play dominoes with the rest of the guests, often sitting to the side and playing the role of the silent host serving tea and biscuits, opening and closing the window at the guests’ word, but tonight Thérèse played alongside Laurent.

It was a ghastly sight, seeing her behave as his delicate wife who sat beside him, giggling at his jokes and sitting compliantly while he touched her and bathed her in compliments.

She always beat you at the games the two of you played — chess, poker, dominoes, any game the two of you could get your hands on in the cherished privacy of her bedroom, she’d beaten you in.

That goddamned Laurent didn’t know a single thing about how she advanced her knights first and bishops last or about how she maintained a terrifyingly impeccable poker face during card games.

No one but you had ever seen her play until now and even her best gameplay of the evening was seen as complementary to Laurent’s, who praised her as if she was a child with beginner’s luck.

You felt like storming out of the dining room each time you were subjected to the sound of his patronising.

‘Well done, Thérèse!’ he’d say. ‘What a clever little woman you are.’

Then he’d squeeze her shoulder, rub his thumb against her sleeve and Thérèse would laugh, seemingly delighted by his superficial praise.

By the time the game had progressed nearly an hour into the evening, you could no longer tell if Thérèse’s reaction to the painfully tragic man was an act to appease her aunt. It all seemed rather convincing.

You were bitter throughout the rest of the night, feeling unconcerned with whether or not you won any of the games and refusing to laugh at any of the jokes told around the table, especially Laurent’s, whose jokes you found extraordinarily unamusing.

Caught up in the debilitating clutches of jealousy, you hadn’t noticed how Thérèse watched you from across the table. At one point she bumped her foot against your ankle, hoping to get your attention and have you meet her eyes. But you continued with the game without even so much as a glance in her direction and Thérèse felt that you were ignoring her.

Finally, the night came to an end.

It felt overdue, the same joke being told every other minute, the same boisterous laugh from Laurent and the same flattered smile from Thérèse throughout the evening.

You were preparing to leave when she ducked out of the dining room. She approached you from behind, hands rounding your head to cover your eyes with her palms.

In a gruff voice meant to resemble a particular man, she said, “Thank you kindly for inviting me, Y/N. I would adore it if you would see me out.”

She uncovered your eyes and stepped beside you.

“Not a satisfactory impression?” she asked at the sight of your unimpressed face. “I thought it to be rather exact.”

When you only glared at her as you continued to pack your things, Thérèse straightened, a more serious expression forming on her features. “Did something happen?”

“No,” you answered.

“You seemed upset during the game,” she told you. “There is no point to be so upset over losing, Y/N. I’ve bested you countless times before.”

Her continued teasing made you twitch.

You looked behind your shoulder at the busy huddle of guests in the dining room, still cleaning the sprawl of dominoes and cups of tea on the table.

Then you wrapped your arm around Thérèse’s forearm, fingernails digging through her sleeve and into her skin, making her wince. She stuttered, perhaps choosing between expressing concern or hissing something argumentative. Her eyes darted over to the dining room as you dragged her towards the metal staircase and chose to do neither.

You pushed her into her bedroom and she massaged her sore forearm as you shut the door behind you.

“What has gotten into you?” she bit.

Stepping in front of her, you snapped, “You were trying to vex me.”

Thérèse’s face contorted into sheer confusion. “What are you going on about?” she questioned. “How might’ve I angered you?”

“Do not pretend that you cannot recall the way you giggled like a schoolgirl at Laurent and his horrid jests — some of which were at your expense,” you reminded her. “Were they really so hilarious?”

You scoffed and paced around her bedroom, arms crossed in front of your chest. “Oh, touching you as if he meant to undress you right there at the dining table, how I watched the way you rejected his touch not even once.”

Thérèse watched you as you treaded the wooden floors of her bedroom, fingers tapping against your upper arm as you went mad with your recollections of Laurent. “I was expected to predispose his attraction to me and conciliate Madame’s hopes for his future as my suitor,” she explained.

“When have you ever concerned yourself with what she wants for you to do or not do?”

“Whose instruction shall I obey then, if not Madame’s?” she inquired rhetorically. “My own?”

You turned and stopped your pacing in front of her, your faces mere inches apart. “Mine,” you answered sternly.

She looked up at you and you caught a dim hint of defiance daring herself to oppose you in her eyes. “And if that were to be plausible, what would your first instruction be, Y/N?” she asked, though her inquiry seemed more of a mockery than sincere curiosity.

For a moment it was only the sound of your heartbeat that filled your ears and the faint wavering of Thérèse’s breath. But you didn’t give yourself enough time to hear if her breath was indeed catching in her throat, for you raised your hand to her face and wrapped your fingers around her jaw, eliciting a sharp gasp from her.

You shoved her backwards, fingernails prodding painfully into her skin. Then you met your lips with her own. It was a frenzied kiss; teeth knocking against each other, bottom lips nipped on, lips crashing against each other, mouths were warmed with each other’s breaths as you both panted out in desperation for more contact.

She made haste in unbuttoning her dress, nearly ripping three right out from their stitching as she tore her blouse open. You dove down into her breasts, kissing the soft swells as you undid her corset and freed her from her confines of her garments.

Your fingers looped around the collar of her slip underneath her corset while Thérèse quickly slid her arms out of her dress. She pushed her undone corset down her hips and walked forward into you, stepping out of her skirts.

Her slip came off next, pulled over her head and snagging on the ribbon that tied her hair up. Long brown curls spilled down her arms and you wrapped your hands around her waist, squeezing her and pushing her backwards.

A hand was placed on her shoulder and you pushed her down onto her bed. She crawled backwards and her arms buckled a handful of times as she became racked with the desperation to lay under you. The maddened kiss ceased not even for a moment as you climbed on top of her until she was sprawled vertically amongst the mess of her bed sheets.

She was bare aside from her underwear and you trailed kisses up the valley of her breasts, kneading one in your hand with your other arm looped around her waist, arching her body up against yours.

Thérèse moaned, quiet and soft as she succumbed easily to your touch, her head lolled back onto her pillow.

The very sound of her pleasure drove you mad.

Your every sense was filled with Thérèse, your boundless desire made your veins pulse for her, your every instinct lit aflame with her scent, the feel of her soft skin, the sound of her moans, the sight of her parted lips and the pink of her tongue.

Thérèse.

The body you’d embraced and decorated with kisses, the voice you’d favoured since childhood, the eyes you’d adored, the long hair you’ve braided and tucked flowers into, the soft ivory skin you loved to accidentally brush your knuckles against.

Thérèse.

She gasped and her eyes fluttered open when your lips found her neck and sucked at her pulse, your greed surging when she began undressing you with clumsy hands.

Your body moved in accordance with the way Thérèse tugged your clothes off. She pushed your bottoms off your legs with her feet and kicked them onto the floor before pulling your blouse over your head.

Immediately after she tossed your blouse onto her bedroom floor, you cupped her cheek with your hand and kissed the side of her head, your face buried in her sweet-smelling hair. You pressed kisses against her temple, her forehead, her cheek, the corner of her full lips. Your kisses lowered along the slope of her jaw, nipping at her skin and making Thérèse sigh.

She wrapped her arms around your waist and ran her hands up your back. She felt with her fingers the way your shoulder blades moved with your shifting weight as you held yourself above her.

“I want to touch you,” you said, raising your head and meeting her eyes.

“Indulging in the pleasures of the flesh outside of marriage,” she whispered. “It is selfish.”

Years ago in Vernon when the both of you were only children, Madame would tutor Thérèse at home. She would teach her of the way proper girls were expected to behave, the expectations her niece was meant to fulfil while living under her roof.

There were times even after completing your afternoon chores and travelling from your own home to theirs on foot that Thérèse still wouldn’t have finished with her lessons.

You’d sit by their front door, listening to the chirps of cicadas and the distant call of the Seine’s currents which were perhaps only in your head for the river was always so still it seemed stagnant. But the longer you listened to Thérèse’s dutiful repetition of her aunt’s teachings and heard the turning pages of the book in her hand, the more animated those sunny afternoons became.

Your thrumming desire to have Thérèse finally step out of that sluggish little living room and pull you up by your hand to finally join you under the beaming Parisian sun only grew as you watched the swaying of the trees and listened to the sounds of the summer from the tomato garden under her living room window.

Sometimes you had nothing else to do but listen to Madame’s teachings.

‘Keep quiet — don’t make a sound,’ she’d instruct, for obedient girls were demure and without passion, free of any temptation that averted their focus from household chores and self-discipline.

After Thérèse reached her twelfth birthday, Madame began to reiterate one teaching remarkably more than she did the others though at the time the words held very little significance: It is selfish to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh outside of marriage.

When she finally finished with her lessons she’d come forth from the shadows of her home and reach down to take your hand as she always would. She’d lift you from the grass and the two of you would run towards the Seine, not because either of you were in any particular rush, and there were many times where you’d only walked with her to the river, but some days you ran.

It always sent her into a fit of giggles when you’d crash down into any grassy meadow by the water together, limbs sprawled out every which way, entangling your bodies together in a wild embrace within the gently-swaying flowers of the summer pastures.

Thérèse was the green of the grass and the beaming rays of the yellow-white sun, she was the rays of sunshine that warmed your feet and fingertips when you outstretched your arms and legs, she was the gentle summer breeze.

“You can be selfish with me, Thérèse,” you told her. “I will give you all that you need, even your most selfish desires. I will offer myself to you, my time and my life. Be selfish with me. Take me for your pleasure, for your entertainment. I am all yours.”

Then you added, “In any case, marriage is the conjoining of hearts and souls. Is this, not in every way, marriage?”

When you leaned down to kiss Thérèse’s temple, she cupped your cheek and had you meet her eyes again. Her focus on you was undivided and deliberate. “I don’t want to be with anyone but you, Y/N,” she confessed.

She kissed your lips without haste or desperation, but with sincere affection, an act of love.

“I have always held you close to my heart,” she said when she pulled away, your forehead pressed against yours and her eyes still pinned on your parted lips. “You are the most important person in my life. I do not know how to tell you with enough words the way you make me feel, the future I want with you.”

Her head laid back down onto her pillow and she looked into your eyes, either anticipating or searching for an answer from you.

“We need not utter even a word, my Thérèse,” you whispered and kissed her forehead.

Madame had always instilled it into her niece to be a soundless girl, raising her into a life of restriction. She intended to shape a virtuous woman who was a pristine image of submission and purity that way, but succeeded only in showing Thérèse another way of love.

Love had been planted and grown its roots between you and her though the two of you could not often find the words to express how dearly you meant to one another nor you in telling Thérèse all those years ago how you would wait hours if needed in front of the Raquin household in the sweltering heat simply to be with her after her lessons instead of the mere several minutes she’d supposed you been there waiting.

In the warm embraces of love, you stayed with Thérèse nearly every night until she fell asleep and parted with a kiss to her sleeping face. She shared with you secrets and passions that were reserved for your ears only, dreams of living far away and hopes for a different life.

Though it was the first time words of devout affection had ever been exchanged, it was certainly not the first time either of you had confessed your love.

You sat up from Thérèse’s body, looking down at the way she was sprawled out below you, delicate and vulnerable and completely bare.

Gentle hands ran up and squeezed her sides. Your thumbs flicked at her nipples until they hardened and Thérèse whimpered. She held your wrists while you ran your hands back down to her hips.

Her breath hitched when your fingers looped around the band of her underwear.

You met her eyes and she looked back at you with confidence, a familiar boldness that made her green eyes glisten when she was poking fun at you or only a card or two away from beating you in poker. She squeezed your wrist then let go of you, fingers delving into the mess of the bed sheets below her.

A kiss was pressed to her lower stomach and you looked up at her from between her hips. Wasting no time due to both your desperation to touch her and desire to bring her pleasure, you pulled her underwear down her thighs and unhooked it from her ankles.

Thérèse reached a hand down and cupped your cheek, her fingers lacing into your hair. You parted her legs with your palms against her inner thighs and revealed her wet cunt.

She seemed particularly nervous at this point, her bottom lip taken between her teeth and her fingers trembling against the side of your head.

You looked at her, regarding her anxiety with a supportive smile. Then you moved forward and pressed a kiss to her pussy. Her hips jerked and she exhaled sharply through her nose. Your tongue darted out from beyond your lips to lick her juices from your mouth.

She watched while you ducked your head down and raised your hand to her pussy. Two fingers parted her folds to reveal her glistening hole and Thérèse’s head lolled to the side, a breathy moan escaping her. She squeezed around nothing, her back arching and her hips bucking irregularly.

The two fingers that were nestled within her sticky folds travelled upwards, further until the curve between your middle and index finger came into contact with her clit. Your wrist pushed forward and your palm pressed up against her pussy.

“Oh my,” Thérèse gasped, eyes squeezing shut.

Delicate folds squelched against your hand and her fingers tightened around your hair as she moaned shakily. You closed the space between your two digits and squeezed her clit gently. The heel of your hand ground against her while you kept in mind not to apply too much pressure.

Your hand parted from her, sticky strings of her slick connecting to your hand and fingers. With a squeeze to her thigh, you brought her eyes back down to you and made her watch as you lapped up her juices, moaning at her flavour and keeping your eyes on hers.

“You taste incredible,” you told her. She blushed and hid her face from you momentarily with the back of her hand, pretending that she was pushing her hair back.

When you cleaned your hand of her cum with a gluttony that made Thérèse shiver, you ran your tongue up her cunt and she let out a long moan, her stomach tightening and her body arching from the bed. She grasped at the bed sheets with one hand and your hair with the other.

You wrapped your lips around her clit and with the pads of three fingers, rubbed circles against her pussy.

Thérèse placed both her hands on your shoulders, squeezing encouragingly. “I like that,” she sighed. You looked up at her face from between her thighs and darted your tongue into her opening. Your nose nudged at her clit while you ran your tongue through her walls.

She scratched at your shoulders and nodded rapidly. “There, there, there!” she blabbered. “Goodness, that feels…”

You reached one hand up and groped at her breast, massaging the soft swell and releasing periodically to tug at her nipple or switch to the other. With your hand no longer holding both of her thighs apart, Thérèse closed her thighs around your head, constricting your arms’ range. But you didn’t need very much as long as you could reach her tits.

Hooking your thumb around her and pulling her outer fold back, you exposed more of her to you and spread her opening apart further. Your tongue reached greater depth and you were ravenous. With a gluttony in eating her out that Thérèse only found herself becoming slicker while simply watching, you brought her orgasm.

She cried out and her other leg’s sheer strength did not allow you to keep her thighs apart any longer. She closed both around your head and you gave one of her nipples a particularly harsh tug as she came. You jerked your head to the side and flicked at her clit with the tip of your nose. You continued to thrust in and out of her with your tongue until Thérèse’s back made contact with her bed again and she released your head from the grip of her thighs.

You climbed up her body and kissed her parted lips, sliding your tongue into her mouth and spreading her flavour across her tongue.

“Are you feeling alright?” you asked when you lifted your head to look down at her.

She nodded in response and pecked your lips. “I feel amazing,” she answered.

Then you pulled away and sat up onto your knees, moving back down her body.

Thérèse watched you wordlessly as you parted her thighs again. You pulled one of her legs over your thigh and nestled your other one underneath hers so her ass rested against your leg and her hips were angled upwards.

“What are you doing?” she asked you.

You simply kissed your fingers then reached across her body to press them against Thérèse’s lips in response now that you couldn’t bend far enough to reach her.

When you brought your hand back, you spread Thérèse’s cunt apart, your thumb delving into her delicate petal-like folds. You ran your eyes down the beautifully flushed pussy and her sweet nectar, feeling a tight formation develop in your lower stomach.

“You’re so pretty, Thérèse,” you told her.

She replied, “So are you.”

You looked up at her and were met with her soft smile. You melted at the sight.

You held Thérèse’s thigh that rested on top of yours with your hand and looped your leg around the other securely. She reached down and her fingers ran along the back of your hand. You took her hand in yours and interlaced your fingers, both of your palms flat against her thigh. You straightened your back and lowered your hips before pressing your cunt down against hers.

“Oh!” she gasped and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Show me how you like it, Thérèse,” you panted. “Show me.”

You experimented, watching her expression intently as you used a variety of patterns of your hips to grind down against her. You tried lifting yourself up and separating yourself from her to move back down against her, then rapidly rolling your hips forward and back without parting from Thérèse’s pussy once which she seemed to like particularly.

She squeezed your fingers, her head lolled to the side with her chin against her shoulder.

You slid two of your fingers into the shared slick heat of your pleasures and you spread her folds apart, allowing you to roll your own clit against the sensitive bud and exposing more of her cunt for you to hump. When she was spread enough you slid your fingers out and reached your arm out.

Thérèse’s eyes opened and she looked at your outstretched arm, two of your glistening fingers mere inches from her face. Shakily, she got onto her elbows and craned her head forward, wrapping her lips around your fingers and cleaning off the juices from both you and her with her tongue.

The feeling of Thérèse’s pussy was incredible.

Your head was hung forward as you closed your eyes and focused on the immense pleasure you received from her pussy against your own. You felt her swollen cuntlips and her slick folds with every roll of your hips, the throbbing of your clits mutual as you felt her pulsate against you should you slow down enough to feel it.

She moaned around your fingers and her lips loosened from around your digits when she began to pant, her warm breath blowing down to your wrist.

You watched as Thérèse’s breasts bounced with every roll of your hips and you removed your fingers from her mouth and rubbed your wet fingers against one of her stiff nipples. Her own saliva cooled her pink bud. You groped her breast, using your grip as leverage to lean forward slightly.

You groaned her name and you met her eyes. In the exchanged wordless stare, she knew you were nearing your unravelling. The desperation you saw in the way she stared back told you that she was nearing her second orgasm.

“You feel so good, my perfect Thérèse,” you told her, releasing her breast and cupping her cheek. She looked up at you adoringly, her forehead beading with sweat and her lips parted for her melodic moans and whimpers.“Your pussy feels amazing.”

You swore you’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

Thérèse began to thrust her hips up which brought you immense pleasure despite how weakly she did it. The wet sounds of your sticky pussies humping against each other was enough to get you off.

You smiled at how receptive she was to your praise.

Goodness, how you loved her.

“That’s right, baby, just like that,” you encouraged. “You’re doing so good. So good.”

You stroked her cheek with your thumb and Thérèse leaned into your touch.

“Y/N…” she mumbled.

“For years I’ve fantasised about having you as my own in this way, about being yours,” you admitted. “I’d imagined how gorgeous you’d look completely bare, how your breasts looked uncovered. I imagined in the dark of my room how you’d look between my thighs, running your tongue up my pussy and looking up at me with your pretty green eyes.

“My desperation became too much at times. I touched myself the moment I got home. I delved my fingers into my cunt thinking of the way you had bent over earlier in the day and exposed your breasts to me, the feeling of your lips against my cheek when you whispered into my ear.”

Thérèse was impassioned by your words and her breathing quickened exponentially, her hips staggering as she attempted to continue bucking her hips upwards. “Oh, Y/N,” she trembled out. “I too… I’ve hiked my skirts up my thighs… in this very bed after our outings. I’ve… Oh, I’ve tucked my fingers beyond my clothes and felt… felt how wet I was. My fingers sliding across my cunt, my trembling hand hardly delivering enough friction.”

She moaned out and turned her head to kiss your palm. “But now… O-Oh, Y/N…”

You watched her struggle with her words until she jerked her hips up harshly into you as she came. She released with a warm gush and you felt every constriction of her pussy as you rolled against her in staggering thrusts, the harsh bucking of her hips from earlier having pushed you over your own edge.

Shared cries and shaky moans mingled, each of you listening to the way they brought pleasure to the other, your shared orgasm nothing less than sacred and holy.

You moved Thérèse’s thigh off from your leg and you released her other. You parted from her pussy and you missed the feeling the moment it happened. But any more contact would’ve been too much for the both of you.

You laid back down beside Thérèse and wrapped your arms around her shoulders, pulling her against your chest. You laid together in silence as you caught your breaths, bathing in what you had just done together, what you had just done to each other. The realisation that you were now connected in the way you were was glorious.

“I can’t stand being without you during the day when you’re off at work,” Thérèse mumbled against your shoulder when she was finally able to speak without taking a breath between words, “doing all that you do away from me.”

She looked up and the flash of her green eyes made you look down at her. She only stared at you for a few moments before she whispered, “What do you do when you’re away?”

“Work,” you answered. “Sleep.”

She tipped her head against the pillow inquisitively. “Friends?” she asked.

Then after a moment she asked, “Women?”

You smiled knowingly and Thérèse hid her face against your upper arm, finding that her attempts at subtlety were uncovered.

“Friends,” you affirmed finally and brushed her hair out of her face. “Women, no. I’ve always felt… otherwise preoccupied with thoughts of someone in particular.”

She rolled onto her stomach and folded her arms on top of the pillow so she could look at you.

Moving onto your side and meeting her eyes, you had to look up at her from the angle your head was laying against her pillow. She was perched up onto her elbows, her tangled brown hair spilling down her arms.

She moved her weight onto one elbow and raised her hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Am I only property for you to claim?” she then whispered.

White sheets wrapped her body loosely. It pooled around her waist, dipping along her hips and allowing your eyes to trail down her side all the way down to her legs left uncovered. Her back was bare aside from stray locks of hair that laid against it. Her breasts pressed against her forearm and were shrouded by her dark hair.

“No,” you answered. “Truly, Thérèse, if you did make the decision to wed another, I would find it in me to respect your choice.”

Simply imagining a future in which she did choose another over you caused you a great deal of pain. It shot through your chest and seized the base of your throat.

She looked away from you momentarily, seemingly disappointed by your response and feeling as if though it mattered little to you if she did decide to marry another. But you spoke again and her eyes flashed up from the pillow between the two of you.

“I would love you no less if I was not yours, though the longing would make it seem to me that my anguish would have perhaps grown tenfold with each morning you woke in a set of arms that were not mine.”

“Love?” she repeated, her voice a small whisper.

“To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further.”

Something awoke in her at your reference to a quote from her favourite novelist, something sincere and touched. She whispered and tipped her head down as if to survey the validity of your reference, “Victor Hugo.”

“I do indeed pay attention when I read to you,” you told her, “though you almost always doze off no more than eight pages into the evening.”

Thérèse cupped your cheek before leaning down and kissing you. “I love you,” she said suddenly.

Words have never been the strong suit of either of you. There were other languages of love you’d mastered alongside Thérèse — the meaning of touch and longing stares, the devotion of time, secrets reserved for and exchanged only between the two of you.

“I love you too, Thérèse,” you replied without a moment’s hesitation. You wrapped your arms around her body and brought her down to you, pulling her bed sheets up to her shoulders. She moved up your body so her head was tucked under your chin and she could hug you around your chest.

Though she was always one to fall asleep within minutes simply listening to you read to her, Thérèse didn’t fall asleep for some time after you laid her on top of you. She closed her eyes, feeling the rising and falling of your chest against her cheek, and your exhales against the side of her head.

You hadn’t shared a bed with her since childhood when you slept over once in her bedroom. You still felt a childish joy sleeping with Thérèse, having your arms wrapped around your closest friend’s delicate body while she did nothing but bask in the feeling of your intimacy in comfortable silence.

You figured you’d start to place more value in saying ‘I love you’ with your words from that evening forth.

It felt damn good to finally say it.

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#thérèse raquin #thérèse raquin x you #thérèse raquin x reader #thérèse raquin x y/n #thérèse raquin fanfiction #in secret fanfiction #in secret #elizabeth olsen

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theconstantnymph · 10 months

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Madame und ihre Nichte, 1969

#madame und ihre nichte #madame and her niece

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luceracastro · 2 months

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No because hear me out, I make a fic where it’s a Enzo x Reader fic and reader is Bayona’s quiet and shy niece (also younger) who tags along because Bayona thinks it’ll be good for her to be around others close to her age and Enzo just thinks that she’s so cute and then he kinda takes her outta her shell and she blooms such a good friendship with the entire cast and they teach her how to actually enjoy life! I literally planned this out while unpacking haha

What do you think @madame-fear ???

#lsdln cast #esteban kukuriczka #enzo vogrincic #francisco romero #matias recalt #juani caruso #la sociedad de la nieve #fanfic #enzo vogrincic fanfic

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the-broken-truth · 10 months

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Leaving The Web [Part 6 - Epilogue] - Platonic Yandere Miguel O'Hara w/ Daughter Symbiote Spider Reader

Broken Truth: Someone in the comments asked me for a Part 6 to this storyline so I decided to make an Epilogue. Please enjoy this final part of Leaving The Web.

[Earth-928 / Spider-Society / Infirmary]

"Broken Ribs. Fractured Leg, Bruised Ego." Lyla said as she went over Miguel's Medical Chart while the Leader of the Spider-Society was laying in a bed with his body bandaged and his red eyes looking at the ceiling with his traditional frown on his face while he slowed his breathing to relieve the pain on his ribs. It had been a week since he was thrown back into the portal by Venom & his daughter, [Name], and he was just now gaining consciousness. Miles and Gwen with the help of Peter B. Parker got him into the infirmary so that he could get his wounds looked at and bandaged but he passed out from the pain and the stress

"Just tell me how the operations are doing, Lyla." Miguel said in his nonchalant voice.

"All the operations are going smoothly, most of the Anomalies have been captured and returned to their proper Earth...but Peter has not sent anyone to Capture Venom and [Name]," Lyla explained.

"Why? I flagged that as a top priority. I need them back home as soon as possible." Miguel said as he looked at Lyla but she just shook her head and looked at her creator through her heart glasses.

"Miguel, you know that I normally joke about these things but you need to let [Name] go, she doesn't want anything to do with us, mainly you, so it's time to let them go and leave them to have their own life," Lyla said.

"But, I need her..." Miguel said ut Lyla shook her head.

"No. You had her and she tried to get your love and attention - you abandoned her to raise another daughter when your other version was killed in that robbery. You called her a burden and looked at her with disgust whenever she tried to get your attention. Think - do you really want her or do you just want to replace what you lost?" Lyla said as she disappeared. Miguel looked at the ceiling and thought about what Lyla said - it was a serious question and he didn't know the answer to it.

[Name's] Earth]

[Name] walked down the street with her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket - which was actually Venom - as she was heading to her job to collect her paycheck for the week.

"Do you think Madame Kristen will give us the Chocolate Sculpture of us?" Venom asked.

'I'm not sure, that's the most sought-after creation she has and I think she promised it to her niece for her birthday.' [Name] thought as she walked into the store and out after getting her money with her weekly bonus only to see the Vulture flying over her head as Cop Cars chased after him.

"Do we really have to?" Venom asked.

"You know the answer to that, V." [Name] said as she walked into the alley and let the Symbiote consume her into her Spider-Woman Suit, and swung after the cop cars. After attacking the Vulture and defeating him, allowing the cops to take him away, Spider-Woman swung away to reach her apartment and found a note attached to her door in familiar writing.

Mija and Venom,

I know that you didn't want to hear from me again after you both beat the crap out of me and tossed me back into my portal to send me back to the Spider-Society but I wanted to tell you both that I am sorry for everything that I have done to you. I ignored you. I neglected you. I failed you. I shall leave you alone and never return to your Earth again so long as there are no anomalies there, but I won't bother you and make you come back home with me. If you decide to come home, I shall accept and love you. Love you and live your best life.

Signed, Your Father, Miguel O'Hara.

[Name] and Venom looked at the note before going into their apartment for dinner and chocolate.

Just another day in New York for Spider-Woman and Venom.

#spiderverse #yandere miguel o'hara #platonic yandere #female reader #daughter reader #venom symbiote #lyla

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ellecdc · 2 months

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hello loveeee 🩷

can i request cbbh universe jily take harry to diagon alley and shop for school supplies before he goes off to hogwarts for the first time 🥹 i cant stop thinking of their reactions when harry gets matched with a wand (+ jily getting emo remembering their first time at ollivanders too 🥲) and james hyping his boy up as they get him his broom 🥹

this is totally not me tryna heal from canon trauma ha ha…

I fucking loved this - thank you for requesting! May we all heal from the trauma that was the canon HP universe.

CBBH James Potter x Lily Evans Potter // Sirius black x Vixen

The boys were practically vibrating with excitement as the group of six made their way to Diagon Alley. And by boys, Lily meant Draco, Harry, Sirius, and James.

“Okay, so we’ve got to go to Ollivander’s for your wands, Flourish and Blott’s for your books, Madame Malkin’s for your robes, and the Apothecary for potions ingredients. We’ll also stop to get you your own cauldrons...” Lily read from her list methodically.

“And we’ll go to the Pet Emporium and then we’ll get you brooms!” James cheered like a kid at Christmas. Lily wanted to chide him, but she was (nearly) just as excited as her husband and son.

“Okay,” Y/N said as she patiently patted her husband’s shoulder, urging him away from his best friend (and thus, a source of trouble). “why don’t you go with your mum and dad Harry, and Sirius and I will take Draco.”

“Wait.” Sirius barked dramatically. “Can we do the fun parts together?”

“It’s all fun, Pad’s.” She chided.

Sirius grumbled but continued. “I mean the brooms and the pets. I bought my godson’s first broom – I’d like to buy him his first school broom too.” He stated with pride.

“And I’ve always wanted to carry on the tradition with my godson!” James said excitedly.

Draco laughed. “Aren’t mum and dad technically my godparents already?”

This earned him a gentle pat up the back of the head from Sirius. “Don’t talk back to your godfather.”

“Yes sir.” Draco said good humouredly and shared a fond eyeroll with Harry.

“Okay. Why don’t we complete our checklists and then meet at Florean’s for ice cream before we do the fun stuff.” Lily relented.

Sirius and James cheered while Draco and Harry shared a high-five.

“Onwards!” James declared.

It was very important to Lily to get this experience with Harry, as well as for Draco to get this experience with Sirius and Y/N.

Draco already lost the opportunity to experience this with his birth parents; he deserved this chance to make happy memories with his parents like Lily and James did at his age.

And she couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that had the war gone differently, she may have never gotten the chance to do this with her son.

Remus and Regulus agreed to spend the day with Jasmine (Potter), Aurora (Black), Posie (Potter), Lyra (Black), and Leo & Stella (Black) at home for both sets of parents while they were off with the boys. Regulus grumbled and complained but also showed up to the playroom with an astronomical amount of craft supplies, while Remus was out-and-out giddy at the prospect of spending the day with his nieces and youngest nephew.

Lily and James decided to let Harry choose which order they did their shopping in.

They began by getting him a cauldron and his potions supplies. James moaned and groaned the entire time, muttering about “Slytherin’s this” and “Snivellus that”, but Harry (the good lad he is) just assured his dad he wanted to get the boring bits out of the way first.

Then they went to get his books, which Lily was most excited about though James continued to whine.

“Next year we should let Uncle Moony bring you to get your books, he’d be in heaven.” James said.

“Okay but only if mum can come too!” Lily called from somewhere else deep within the store.

After they left the shop, Lily started trying to redistribute the bags so that they weighed roughly an even amount as they got heavy. She suddenly realised her son and husband were laughing at her.

“What?” She spat in faux irritation.

“It’s like you forget you’re a witch.” James said as he looked at his wife’s confused face with unconditional love.

James quickly cast a weightless charm on the shopping bags and shrunk them down to fit inside Lily’s tote bag.

“There ya go, love.” He said with a smack of a kiss on her cheek.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the heat moving to her cheeks. Some habits were hard to break, she supposed.

They then continued to Madame Malkin’s to purchase Harry some uniform robes. They bumped into Sirius, Y/N, and Draco whilst they were there, and James and Sirius spent the entire time pretending to be strangers to one another exchanging pleasantries.

“Ah, nice to meet you, good sir. First time?” Sirius asked in a deep register.

“Yes, yes. This is my first born, Harold Jameson Potter the Seventh. And you?” James responded in like.

“Naw, this ain’t ma first rodeo.” Sirius said, transitioning to a (terrible) Southern American accent.

“Yippee ki-yay.” James returned.

The boys were giggling from their platforms as they were being fitted, causing Mrs. Malkin to shush them as Harry received a stray pin to the shoulder.

Finally, the part everyone had been most excited about, was Ollivander’s. Lily couldn’t help but remember her poor muggle parent’s – dragging a petulant Petunia behind them – trying to be supportive of Lily even though they had no idea what anything meant.

When a witch or wizard get their wand – the hope is that the wand will remain with them throughout their life. The wand chooses it’s wix, and throughout the user’s life, they learn from the wand and the wand learns from them.

A wand is nearly synonymous with a marriage: perhaps more.

Lily chose James and James chose Lily – but both could function without the other. If they fell out of love tomorrow, they’d both find ways to move on.

But Lily’s relationship with her wand is her longest relationship of her entire life, and without it – she would feel naked. The wand provides her with protection, strength, knowledge, and power. Without it, she’s just a girl.

And today, she gets to watch her son as he finds the wand that will provide him protection, strength, knowledge, and power throughout his whole life. She felt her sinuses sting as the bell rung above the door.

“You okay, love?” James whispered into her ear as Harry eyed the rows and rows of boxes lining every wall.

Lily didn’t trust herself to speak, so she simply nodded and offered him a watery smile.

“Oh, my flower.” James said as he rubbed his wife’s back, but Lily didn’t miss the wetness of his own voice. She knew he was probably thinking about coming here with Effie and Monty at Harry’s age (and his near doppelgänger) to choose his own wand. His parents would have understood the significance of finding his first wand - how momentous this moment would be – just as Lily and James did now.

“My, my, do we have another firs- oh!” Mr. Ollivander started as he poked his head out from the back room, interrupted by the scene in front him.

“Why...it can’t be...but, wow!” He cheered as he came around the register.

“Introduce yourself, Haz.” Lily encouraged her son.

“I’m Harry P-”

“Potter, yes." Ollivander completed for Harry. "Of James Fleamont Potter who was matched with an 11-inch mahogany wand with a dragon heartstring around this time about twenty years ago. And Fleamont Hari Potter some thirty-eight years before that. My...”

“I never forget a customer, you see.” He clarified when Harry turned to his parents somewhat concernedly at this stranger’s familiarity.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Ollivander.” Lily said with a smile.

“Ah, and you, Miss Evan’s, or, Mrs. Potter, I suppose.”

Without further ado, Ollivander started pulling boxes from the stacks, trying Harry on for size.

The first one nearly singed everyone’s eyebrows off and was quickly returned to its box.

“Temperamental, that was is. Hm,” Ollivander said mostly to himself as he carried on.

The second set off the sprinkler system above them and got sent back to its home as well.

Finally, a wand was handed to Harry (the wand) from the stack. An 11-inch holly wand with a phoenix feather core. Harry picked it up, and (quite beautiful, in Lily’s opinion) fireworks sprouted from its tip.

“An odd combination of wood and core – I’ve not seen many like it myself.” Ollivander admitted.

“Well, Haz is a bit of an odd guy.” James said as he ruffled his son’s hair.

“Dad!” Harry screeched as the two began to roughhouse.

“Okay, oi, this store is not big enough. Boys!” Lily reprimanded.

The trio finished up their shopping and headed towards Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream parlour. Sirius, Y/N, and Draco were already seated, which Sirius was very smug about.

“Must be hard being second best at everything, Potter.” He called out to James. This resulted in James leaping over the barrier of the parlour’s patio seating area and landing on Sirius. Y/N had her face in her hands and Draco was (unsuccessfully) trying to smother his laughter.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake.” Lily grumbled as she shot an auguamenti at the two boys men.

The two men shot apart like cats in an alleyway after someone threw something at them for howling in the middle of the night.

“Go get your wives and sons ice cream.” Lily barked at them.

“Yes ma’am.” Sirius and James responded, each bringing their first two finger to their forehead and offering a salute before walking marching inside.

After their quick treat, where Draco and Harry compared their wands and showed each other all that they had bought, they carried on to the ‘fun stuff’.

“Have you thought at all about what kind of pet you’d like, Draco?” Y/N asked the boy.

Draco appeared to consider something before a blush permeated his cheekbones.

“I think...I think I’d like a cat; like my mum had.” He admitted quietly.

Sirius offered a sad but delighted sigh at his son and Y/N pulled him into an embrace.

Narcissa Malfoy attended her first year with the company of a regal white long-haired half kneazle. That cat (monstrosity, if you asked Sirius) was her most prized possession for years to come after that.

“That sounds like a beautiful choice, my love.” Y/N offered as they made their way to Magical Menagerie.

There was a pure white long-haired kneazle cross available that Sirius was positive Draco would beeline for.

However, surprising everyone, Draco found a small tortoiseshell kitten with a missing eye. “This one!” He proclaimed.

And so, it was.

He named her Larissa – after one of Neptune’s moons, and in the same vein as his mum’s name Narcissa.

Harry insisted on getting an owl so he could “race them with his new broom.” He landed on a beautiful snowy owl with piercing yellow eyes. Lily found her a little off-putting; “no owl should look like they know so much” she had said.

To name her, Harry decided to flip open to a random page of one of his textbooks. Harry named her Hedwig, which he found on page 158 in Bathilda Bagshot’s book “A History of Magic”.

Y/N and Lily found a bench near Broomstix and watched as the four boys walked (skipped) into the store, speaking over top of one another in their excitement.

“God we’re so lucky.” Y/N said quietly.

Lily felt like her heart was a well that was just overflowing with love.

“We really are.” She agreed.

@ttulipwritezz

#marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #marauders come back be here #reader insert #self insert #sirius black #sirius black x reader #Sirius black x you #Jily #james potter x lily evans #James Potter x lily evans #marauders fix it #diagon alley #ask elle

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