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lessi-lover · 5 months

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cleats and kisses II a.russo ~

23★ ~ a.russo

"any new love interests, y/n?" caitlin teased mercilessly, playfully knocking you out of your lunge position. "yeah, got your eye on any defenders?" steph chimed in, her mischievous grin a perfect compliment, following her australian teammates teasing.

katie, with an unimpressed scoff, threw her head back against her locker, rolling her eyes at her girlfriend’s foolish comments. "oh, absolutely. y/n's just so, so good at finding love." she retorted before you could respond, her voice laced with sarcasm, sending a pointed look your way from across the changing room.

katie’s sisterly overprotectiveness, always a source of amusement amongst your friends, even though it was extremely infuriating at times. an exasperated sigh fell from your lips, lifting your tired limbs off the floor and moving to sit with your sister, desperately trying to block out the girls’ relentless banter. resting your head on her shoulder, you let your eyelids gently fall, seeking comfort in your sister’s familiar presence.

across the room stood the english captain. leah who was always the most observant in a crowded room, who sensed your unease at the comments and shot you a comforting glance. she had known you for years, one of your closest friends from your early footballing days and instrumental in finally getting you signed to Arsenal. it was safe to say she could read you like an open book.

in your previous relationship, katie had managed to intimidate your then-girlfriend after finding you both having a nice early morning breakfast, in town before training. you could not understand at all why the incident had caused such a stir; you were fully clothed and what you were doing was completely innocent.

katie’s protectiveness, something she had picked up from your older siblings. it was as if she didn't want to see you grow up, reluctantly clinging to the image of her smaller, younger sister. yet, you knew the possessiveness stemmed from a place of only love.

"i think i'll turn in for the night, busy day tomorrow," you announced, referring to the game and press conference you had been warned about at this morning's meeting. offering a tired smile to your teammates and sister, you bid your farewell. "see you at breakfast, katie," you added before slipping quietly out of the door. “7 am sharp, don't be late," you heard your sister’s loud accent barrel through the door. you shook your head, making your way up the elevator and towards your room.

however, instead of heading to your room, shared with lia and her girlfriend, you found yourself walking down the corridor to somebody else's room, ‘better than third-wheeling’, you thought. you gently knocked a secret pattern on the wooden door, hoping not to reveal your location to roaming players and staff members. lord knows the amount of times you have almost been caught sneaking into the blonde's room when traveling.

the lock clicked noisily, and the door flowed open, revealing your exhausted looking girlfriend, still dressed in her training kit. "why haven't you showered missy?” you teased the blonde, stepping inside the doorway, making sure to quickly peck her soft lips. the blonde placed her hand behind your ear, desperately trying to deepen the kiss. her lips moved hungrily against your own.

you tapped her waist, finding it difficult to breathe, before pulling away completely. "i was waiting for you to show up, figured that with your smell you would need a second shower,” alessia teased, a cheeky grin adorning her soft face. "well aren't you a pleasure.” she chuckled back at your remark, tugging you close into her larger frame.

"are you feeling alright?" the blonde asked, noticing the unmissable tenseness on your face. you quickly nodded, making sure to look the girl in the eyes. "mhmm, the girls were just prying on my love life in the changing room."

she kissed into your shoulder comfortingly, placing open mouthed kisses wherever she could. letting go of your waist, she made her way to the bathroom. your lips turning upwards, as you watched her clumsily trip over a pair of loose football boots and turn to check if you had seen, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

while she showered, you picked up a book on her bedside table, carefully placing your finger by the girl's last page. page 10. the book helped pass time until she returned, her short, damp hair falling onto her cream coloured robe, smelling of lavender and rosemary. "what are you up to, love?" she asked, putting an old ireland jersey she had stolen from you, catching you engrossed in the book she had abandoned a couple nights ago.

you looked up from your book and grinned, turning it so she could see. "trying to understand why on earth you thought you would enjoy this book," you replied. “trying to impress you with my reading skills”. she said, in a serious manner. “clearly.” you responded.

alessia chuckled, moving on top of you and tossing the book out of your hands. “i. love. you.” she admitted, each word accented with a short, but sweet kiss on your lips. you blushed, embarrassed at how 3 common words could make your stomach flip. “i love you too, less.” you responded, with a small yawn into her chest. you snuggled closer, burying your head into her neck. letting the world fade, as you drifted off to the blondes soft snores.

but the peace didn't last too long. the next morning, you were both jolted out of your peaceful rest by an alarming pounding on the hotel door. "open the door!" an angry shout from outside the hotel door. "fuck, its katie," you cursed, recognising an identical accent to your own, jumping out of the soft sheets, whilst alessia answered her clearly fuming teammate.

"katie?" alessia greeted your angry sister, her mind racing rapidly for some kind of excuse. "breakfast finished a long time ago. your alarm must’ve not gone off.” “my sister wasn't at breakfast either, and she isn't in her room. got somethin to do with it?" katie questioned, with an irritated look.

"no clue," alessia replied as soon as the girl finished, possibly a little too quick to be innocent. "sorry, katie. i'll be down in a minute, i don't know what happened, i must have forgotten to set my alarm.” alessia answered frantically, shutting the door in the irish girl’s face.

you both let out a sign of relief, looking at each other in disbelief at the narrow call. "that was close. you shouldn't have fallen asleep with me last night," alessia stated, concern etched in her features as she saw a moody katie conversing outside with a tired vic from the small doorhole.

"i know, i'm sorry, i should have been more careful," you confessed, the disappointment carved heavily in your voice. "i'll catch up with you before the interviews, less." with a quick hug you attempted to escape her room unnoticed.

however, your effort to slip away was foiled almost immediately. as you left alessia’s room, trying to blend in with the morning crowd, you encountered katie in the hallway, her gaze sharpening as she observed the room you had exited. "why the fuck are you coming out of alessia’s room?" she questioned, her tone a mix of confusion, anger and concern.

"katie, please let me explain," you pleaded, quickly moving to grab her before she could walk away. “you better start explaining, now!” she yelled, and if you thought katie couldn’t get angrier than a game against manchester city, you were certainly eating your words now.

“she’s my girlfriend”, a soft voice behind you spoke. turning around you were faced with the very blonde you had spent your night with. “oh really?” katie challenged. “yes, we’ve been together for 6 months.” alessia spoke timidly, barely above a whisper. “how could you two keep this a secret?” feeling the weight of the situation, you took a shaky breath, trying to find the right words to explain that you had been secretly dating her teammate.

"katie, i didn't mean for you to find out like this," you began, your voice cracking between words. "alessia and i, we met before i signed here. it was before we even started talking about a possible transfer. i never thought we would keep it a secret, but things got complicated, and i didn't know how to tell anyone."

katie's expression softened slightly, taking a short breath before she spoke. "but why keep it a secret from me?" she asked, her voice now more composed, eyes still glossy. "i was afraid," you admitted, looking into her soft eyes, hoping she could see the sincerity in yours. "i was afraid of losing you. i know it's not an excuse, and i should have been honest with you about alessia from the beginning. i've messed everything up, and i'm really sorry."

alessia stepped forward from behind you, her eyes pleading with katie to forgive you. "i'm sorry too," she said, her voice quivering. "between my transfer, australia and all the drama with me leaving united, i didn't give y/n the space to tell you about us." katie sighed, her anger slowly settling down, as she processed both your confessions.

after a brief silence, katie's expression softened, and a small grin tugged at the corners of her lips. "well," she said, her tone lighter now, "i can't say i expected you two to get together, but i’m glad it’s less and not somebody else. if you're happy together," she continued, her smile growing bigger, "then i'm happy for you." it was a moment of relief for both you and alessia.

“whoo!” “they finally broke it to katie!” voices could be heard celebrating. from around the corner in the hallway, steph, caitlin, leah, and lia appeared, cheekiness displayed on all their faces, giggling that they’d successfully stayed hidden whilst you revealed the truth to your older sister. “how long have you been standing there?” you questioned your friends.

“long enough to hear your beautiful love confession.” lia answered dramatically, throwing her hands in the air for emphasis. her blondie - leah shaking her head at her girlfriends usual antics. “at least we don’t have to go through the awkwardness of telling you all now”, alessia answered before you could. everyone muttered in agreement.

“i guess i can do this now then,” you walked up to the blonde, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and leaning in. you gently pressed your lips against her own, her arms coming to wrap around your waist, pulling you impossibly close. her lips lingered on yours, a warm feeling arising in your heart. alessia gently unwraps her arms and releases you from her tight hold, smiling down at you sweetly.

“gross, next time you're going to swap saliva with each other, give us heads up.” your sister fake gags. “i guess I can do this now, lessibaby!” said caitlin pulling in steph to mock you, imitating your earlier kiss with her aussie teammate. “hey! kisses are reserved for me only.” katie yells, pulling her playful girlfriend into a bruisingly passionate kiss.

“on the pitch please girls, simple field runs.” jonas interrupts the couple, looking down at the floor, face red, obviously embarrassed at the walk in. a couple “yes jonas’.” and “yes coach'." floated around the changing room, jonas nodding and leaving in a hurry. the girls quickly got ready and headed out to the pitch. your sister wraps an arm around your blonde, pulling her along.

“c'mon less, we have lots to talk about.” your sister says intimidatingly. your girlfriend sending you a ‘help me’ look as she was dragged out of the room.

you finished tying your laces, shaking your head, knowing katie was going to absolutely grill the girl until she gave up trying to scare her off. “let's go, cait.” you spoke, picking up your ‘basically’ sister off the floor, her mouth still wide open in shock, bewildered at the unexpected kiss from your sister. shaking her until she focussed you began to make your way out of the changing room, caitlin using your body as a walking stick.

suddenly your phone rang. ‘chatterbox’, your phone read. it was your youngest (and favourite) sister - lauryn. “hey, what's wrong, sweetheart, I'm in training?” you asked, picking up the call. “are you actually dating Alessia? i know you’ve been there for a couple months, but jeez.” she blurted out.

“katie alison mccabe, get your arse over here right now, or so help me i swear- ”.

#arsenal wfc #katie mccabe #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo x y/n #steph catley #caitlin foord #arsenal women #lauryn mccabe

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moonstruckme · 7 months

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I ADORE your writing it is so so so amazing. Could i request poly!marauders x fem!reader who works in a store (maybe like a supermarket or something) and they keep coming because they "need" stuff but they actually just wanna see her and its all cute and flully and stuff?? If you don't wanna do it, no worries at all<3

Thanks lovely! Hope you enjoy it :)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

You’ve barely flipped the sign in the front to open and begun restocking the tomatoes when the door opens. “Good morning,” you say automatically, a Pavlovian response to the chime of the bell.

“G’morning, lovely,” a familiar voice replies, the curly-haired boy flashing a smile at you as he stops below your ladder. “How’s your day going?”

“Well, it’s—” you look at the clock behind the counter “—quarter past seven, so…so far so good.”

“Happy to hear it.” His dark-haired, sharp-edged friend appears, startling you, and the curly-haired one holds up his hands, ready to steady you if you need it.

“Shit, Pads,” he says once it’s clear you’re not going to fall, “you don’t sneak up on someone on a ladder like that. You scared her.”

You give them both a tense smile. “It’s fine,” you say, mustering your best customer service voice (not an easy task with two of your best-looking customers standing so close to you). “I’m alright.”

“Sorry, dollface,” Pads says, sending you a half-sheepish grin in return. You don’t really understand these nicknames they have for each other, but embarrassingly, they’re the only names you know them by. The same group of three boys has been coming by your store for months, almost every day, and it’s reached a point where it’d be too awkward to ask for their names. They’re by far your favorite customers, but you only know them as what they call each other. There’s Pads, Prongs, and…

“Moony, weren’t you saying we’re out of eggs?” Prongs asks.

The tall one comes into view, already holding three cartons of eggs. “Yeah, but I can’t pick. What’s better, free-range or organic?”

“Free-range,” you say, feeling your face heat when they all look up at you. “I mean, it depends on your preference, but that’s what I’d get.”

There’s a beat of silence wherein you suspect the boys are exchanging silent communication and have to force yourself to keep your gaze on the tomatoes, and then, “Dove, I hate to trouble you, but would you mind helping us choose?” Moony’s voice is soft, unobtrusive but compelling. Of the three boys, you find him the easiest to talk to. Prongs oozes charm and Pads flirts like it’s breathing, but something about Moony’s calm demeanor is disarming. “You seem like you know a lot more than any of us.”

“I don’t know about a lot.” You shake your head dismissively, but you’re already starting down the ladder. You miss the last step, and warm hands grab your waist, lowering you cautiously to the floor.

“Easy,” Prongs murmurs.

Your heart’s in your throat, more from embarrassment than from the alarm at your near fall, and you understand why you’re blushing, but you don’t get why he is.

Your “thanks” comes out as more of a breath than a word, but he gifts you one of those dazzling smiles anyway. You turn to the egg cartons like they’re your lifeline, trying to steady your breathing while you read the labels.

“Um, yeah, so.” You clear your throat. “It’s pretty self-explanatory, but organic just means they give the chickens food without chemicals or anything, and free-range means they get a certain amount of space to roam in. I don’t think it changes how the eggs taste or anything, it just depends on what you think is most ethical.”

Moony nods, looking like he’s mulling this over, but you can’t stand to stay under his gaze any longer than that.

“Let me know if there’s anything else I can help you with!” you squeak, abandoning your ladder to go tidy behind the counter.

You’d think after months of these guys coming in you’d be used to them, but you’re not. They wind you every time. They’re obviously close, and you like to imagine them as housemates, maybe even lovers, with the way they seem to interact with such casual intimacy. So many of your customers barely look at you as they go about their business, and you don’t blame them for that, but these boys always have something to say to you. They’ll ask how your day is going, or whether you’ve tried the coffee shop down the road, or what you think of a new jacket. The way they talk amongst each other is so easy, and they talk with you like it should be easy too, but somehow you always manage to make it difficult for them. You’re too quiet, too nervous, too awkward. And yet they keep coming back.

You’re not allowed much reprieve before Pads is sauntering up to the counter, free-range eggs in hand. He sets them on the counter. “Thanks for the advice, sweetheart.”

“It’s no problem,” you say, distracting yourself with the manageable, routine tasks of your job. Scan the item, open the cash register, ask “Would you like a bag for that?”

“No,” he replies just as cordially, “but thank you.”

Before he goes, he tucks a bill into the tip jar on the edge of the counter, just like always, and just like always, you don’t really know what to do with yourself. It’s not like it’s ever a massive amount of money, but still. They’re only your age. Unless they’re all heirs to separate fortunes or something, they probably have about as much money to spare as you do. And it’s so, so unnecessary, especially considering they come here every day to buy one or two items, and then leave you a tip—for what? For ringing them up? For having limited knowledge of chicken ethics?

“You really don’t have to do that,” you blurt, shrinking in on yourself sheepishly when all three boys turn to look at you, nearly out the door. “I just mean, you guys come here all the time. You only ever get a couple of items, it’s really not necessary to leave a tip every time.”

The three boys look at you with varying degrees of bemusement, and Moony gives you a small smile. “We don’t mind,” he replies, at the same time as Pads says, “We like coming here.”

“I just…you shouldn’t feel obligated to leave a tip just because you need something from the corner store. I’m sure you live nearby, right? It’s not like you have a bunch of options in this area.”

The ensuing pause stretches a moment too long, and you tilt your head curiously as both Moony and Prongs begin to blush faintly. “Well,” the latter says, looking about the store with forced casualness, “actually…”

Pads isn’t so tactful. “We don’t live nearby,” he says, gray eyes frank and unflinching.

You blink. “No?”

Moony shrugs, looking alarmingly shamefaced. “No.”

“We used to live around here,” Prongs supplies. “We just don’t anymore. Haven’t bothered to find a new store.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t taken them for creatures of habit, but what all do you know about them really? “Um, where do you live now?” you ask, then want to hit yourself. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that, I don’t mean to intrude—”

“No, it’s okay,” Moony says, in his usual kind way. “We moved down onto twenty second street.”

Your mouth actually drops open. A giant O, and you can hear your mom telling you you’ll catch flies. Pads snickers at your reaction. But fuck, that’s nearly across town. It has to take them at least a half hour to get to your store from there, and that’s if they have a car. “I, um.” You shake your head, collecting yourself. “Sorry, that’s just so far. I used to live around there, actually.”

Prongs perks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, there’s a Tesco just a couple blocks down, on twenty third? And a Sainsbury’s and—oh! There’s a great local corner store not far from there, you should definitely check it out. They make their own bread.”

“Neat,” Moony says, nodding. “Thank you.”

You smile, happy to help even though you’ll be sad to see them go. “Of course, anytime.”

“Yeah, thanks gorgeous.” Pads grins at you, tucking another bill into your tip jar and ignoring your squawk of protest. “See you tomorrow.”

You blink, wondering if you’d just invented the previous conversation, but they’re all starting for the door, acting as though nothing is amiss.

Perhaps you’re feeling extra bold today, because you halt them for a second time. “But don’t you want to go somewhere more convenient?”

Prongs turns around, walking backwards towards the door. “Really appreciate the advice,” he says, “but we like this store just fine.” Moony shoots you a bashful sort of grin, and Pads winks—actually winks—over his shoulder. “So we’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

And, well, if they want to keep crossing town to come in every morning, far be it for you to stop them. You’d hate to drive off your best customers. “Yeah,” you echo. “See you tomorrow.”

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phoward89 · 1 month

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Series Masterlist

Chapter 2:

It was nearing dusk (and curfew) and you were sweeping the floor, finishing up for the evening whenever the doorbell chimed, indicating that somebody has walked in. Without even looking up to see who it was, you said, “Shop's closed, if you need anything you can reach Doula Ada at her apartment upstairs.”

“I’m not here for Doula Ada, darling. I'm here for you.” A baritone, you only just heard earlier in the day, told you as the sound of heavy bootsteps echoed against the hardwood floor you were sweeping up.

You lifted your head up, only to see Coryo. A warm, but small, smile crossed your lips as you took in his appearance. He was still in his light grey uniform, but was no longer wearing the helmet. Said helmet was hooked onto the rifle that was slung across his shoulder. You discovered that his buzzcut was blonde. A natural platinum blonde that border lined white.

His hair was so pure, like snow.

Like his name.

Was he too pure as snow?

No, Private Coriolanus Snow was as pure as snow once a dog lifts it's leg and pisses on it. He's yellow, dirty, defiled Snow. Not pure white snow.

But you'll never find that out.

No, he'll always put on a manipulative face for you because you're the girl he's madly in love (more like obsessed) with.

“Why?” You simply asked, sweeping up your dirt pile into a dustpan.

“To walk you home since curfew’s about to go into effect.”

“Oh.” You said, feeling silly for even asking, as you dumped the contents of the dust pan into the trash. Of course he wanted to make sure you got home without breaking the weekday curfew. He was your new friend; was looking out for you. “That's really sweet of you. Thanks.”

“No need to thank me, Y/N. After all, what are friends for?” Coryo told you with a closed lip smile. His words sounded so sincere to you.

But what you didn't know was that he viewed you as more than a friend. As his girlfriend, well actually his future wife, and just wanted to walk you home to show off that you're his girl. That you belong to him.

And now that he knows your boss, Doula Ada, lived in the apartment above the shop and answers her door at all hours in case someone needs aid, well… Looks like he's getting you fired after walking you home tonight.

“I'll only be a minute; then we can go.” You told your peacekeeper friend while going to put the broom and dustpan away in the small storage closet.

“Do you live nearby?” You heard him ask while closing the closet after tucking away the broom.

“No.” You shook your head, going over to the counter where your apothecary book was. Grabbing the old leather bound book and tucking it under your arm, you explained, “I live in the Seam, on the other side of the district.”

“That’s quite a walk, darling.” Coryo pointed out what you knew first hand as you crossed the shop, heading over to him. “Maybe I should look out for you; walk you home every night I have patrol duty.” The light blonde peacekeeper suggested, placing a hand on the small of your back once you reached him. Ushering you out the door, he added in, “Just to make sure you're safe.”

And by keep you safe, what Coriolanus really meant was keep you from interacting with anyone that wasn't him. Because he can't have you talking to another man. Especially that one who seemed so concerned about you this morning, the dirty blonde man.

Hell, if he could he'd lock you up to keep you away from men’s roaming eyes. To keep you from talking to strange men. Just the thought of men approaching you makes him sick to his stomach with jealousy.

None of these pigs in this dirty coal district deserve to look at you. You don't belong to them. You belong to him. You're his girl.

And since you're his, he's taking you back to the Capitol with him. In the Capitol, he'll be able to lock you up in a pretty golden gilded cage. A cage that wouldn't consist of metal bars, but of his family's Corso apartment.

Coryo knows you'll love the Snow penthouse; will make it into a true home again with your warmth and kindness. Warmth and kindness that reminds him of his mother. She was the light in the Snow family and when she died, along with Coriolanus' baby sister, nothing but darkness remained.

Perhaps once Coriolanus brings you home to the Capitol, you'll give him a baby girl to dote on? Yes, that's exactly what you'll do. You'll fill his penthouse with love and will provide him with a daughter to brighten his life. A daughter the two of you can name after his mother. To honor the woman that you remind him of.

But the problem is, despite how nice (let's face it, the Snow's 12th floor Corso penthouse is falling apart; is such a dump that rats use it as a hotel) his family's penthouse is in the Capitol, its not your home. No, your home’s a wooden house (that could be called a glorified shack) that's couple of rows up from the Covey house at the edge of the Seam.

Your home’s with your older brother, Rein, and his girlfriend, Ashlie. Rein works and as a coalminer to put a roof over your head and food in your belly. And Ashlie works late every weekend serving rowdy dunks and peacekeepers at the Hobb’s bar. Poor Ashlie’s even put her dreams of having children of her own on hold to help your brother take care of you; raise you.

They've done and sacrificed so much to take care of you. To raise you. And no matter what, home's always with them.

Which is a big problem for your new friend, Peacekeeper Coryo since he's determined to rip you away from the only home you've ever known to bring you back to the Capitol with him. He's not leaving you behind. In his mind, Coriolanus is getting the both of you out of 12- To never return.

And he'll lie, cheat, and kill to do it.

But that's something you don't need to worry about, cause he'll do all the worrying for you.

After some time of walking, the brick buildings and cobblestone streets of the merchants sector faded away, morphing into dirt roads and wooden houses. Houses that were different variations of shacks, in Coriolanus' opinion. The lack of street lamps was also prevalent in the Seam. Instead, houses would have oil lanterns lit and hanging on the wooden beams of front porches or by the front door to light the way for miners that worked the graveyard shift.

Coriolanus doesn't (repeat he does not) like the idea of you walking alone along the dark, muddy, scum infested streets of the Seam during dusk. In his opinion it's unsafe. Despite the fact that you've grown up in the Seam around the people he views as dangerous district scum, the area in the grunt's mind is dangerous.

Just the thought of some street rat dragging you in an alley behind some wooden buildings and having their way with you in the dark, as you innocently walk home from a hard day's work at the apothecary, makes him want to empty the contents of his stomach. Just the thought of some coal dust covered bastard pig trying to take advantage of you makes his blood boil. And it's all the more reason why he has to protect you from harm by walking you to and from places while he's on patrol in the district.

It's also another reason why he needs to bring you home with him to the Capitol.

“How much further is it, little dove?” Coriolanus asked, hoping that your house was close because he didn't want to walk the entire mud filled Seam to reach it.

Maybe he could arrange for you to live in one of the apartments in the Merchant Sector, closer to the path that leads to the barracks? He could only send half of his pay home to Tigris and Grandma'am; keep the other half to pay your rent and buy you groceries. Yea, he'd do that for you.

Because you're Private Coriolanus Snow's girl now and he has to keep you close; protect you from your neighbors, acquaintances, and the district scum.

“Not much.” You told him, passing by the house that your friend Lil shared with her brother Spruce and her boyfriend, a miner named Arlo Chance.

Arlo worked with your brother, Rein, in the mines. They weren't friends, but they were kosher with each other when they crossed paths.

You noticed how the lantern was lit on Lil and Spruce's porch, meaning that Arlo was working the graveyard shift at the mines tonight. You knew that when you got home that the only one their to greet you would be Ashlie since Rein always worked the same shift that Arlo did.

You didn’t remember your brother remarking that he was working the night shift tonight. But maybe it slipped your mind, maybe he forgot to tell you?

What you didn't see while passing by Lil’s house, with Coryo's hand firmly taking a possessive residence on the small of your back, was Spruce peeking out of the window, using the moth eaten drapes to shield most of his face, as he looked for his sister's boyfriend to come home after completing a risky mission for the rebel cause.

“That's my house right there.” You pointed to a wooden shack with a porch. The roof had a few patches and the wooden porch had steps that looked half rotten.

The platinum blonde at your side wrinkled his nose in disgust. Your house was no better than a chicken coop, in his opinion. Oh, that just wouldn't do for his girl.

No.

His darling rose deserves the very best. And he plans on giving it to you.

Just like how his cold hearted father had given his warm hearted mother everything money could buy once he united them in love and marriage.

Pulling his attention off of the house, which had a dim light glowing out from underneath the front door, and turning to you, Coryo asked, “Do you live alone?”

He wanted you to say yes, so that he could come inside and properly give you the love that you deserved. Cover your body in open mouth kisses, touch you til you shook with desire, and fuck you til you moaned his name in pleasure.

By how sweet you seemed, he just knows that you’re a virgin. He wants to take your virginity, claim you as his while ruining you for any and all other men in this lifetime.

Coriolanus lost his virginity, as a bet, with a stranger while drunk in the alley behind a club when he was in the Academy. He didn't regret it. In fact, it gave him some much needed experience.

But you on the other hand…

Well, you’ll be fucking only him. And he's going to make sure of that.

“No.” You shook your head, only to explain your answer with, “I live with my older brother, Rein, and his girlfriend, Ashlie.”

“Can I meet them?” Your new friend asked with a smile. A smile that was sickeningly sweet, too wide, and showed way too much of his pearly white teeth. Barred teeth, much like a wolf’s.

You thought that he was genuinely interested in meeting your family because he wanted to make a good impression- being your new friend and all. But the cold, hard truth was that Private Snow wanted to meet your family in order to size up the people he has to separate you from. Coriolanus doesn't give a shit about your family. In his opinion they're district scum; don't deserve having an angel like you living amongst them.

No.

Only he deserves to have you living with him.

But…

One could say that he's an angel himself.

A fallen angel.

The fallen angel that was the most beautiful of them all.

Lucifer himself.

So if you're his angel then he's your devil.

Can't have one without the other, after all.

Even tho darkness was taking over the sky, the way you worried your lip didn't go unnoticed by Coryo. Giving you a look full of tenderness (Was it real or was it fake? Who knows, who cares.) he softly asked, “What's wrong, Y/N?”

Letting out a heavy sigh, you told him, “Coryo, they're leery of peacekeepers. Maybe we should wait a while before we do introductions, okay?”

The platinum blonde, Capitol born and bred peacekeeper didn't like that answer. Didn't like it one bit. You want to hide your relationship with him because you're afraid of your family's reaction.

Yea…

He can't have that. He needs everyone-

EVERYONE-

Including your scummy miner brother and his district whore to know that you're with him.

He's got nothing to hide. And your Coryo's not going to let you hide him like some dirty little secret.

No, he’s going to meet your family and let them know that you belong to him.

But he'll pacify you; won't go pass your threshold tonight once he walks you to the door.

“Okay, but let's not wait too long. I don't want to be almost done with my 20 years of Peacekeeper service when we do the introductions.” Coriolanus told you, his smile teasing, as he walked you to your door.

“It won't be that long.” You assured your new friend.

“I know it won't be, darling.” Coryo confidently told you. But what he didn't tell you was that within the week he plans on striding inside of your house, staring down your family and telling them who you belong to.

And you belong to him, not them, now.

“Lil’s lantern's on, I thought you'd be working the graveyard shift with Arlo.” You told your brother upon seeing him sitting on a ratty armchair, smoking while watching Ashlie drain a pot full of boiling potatoes in the kitchen sink (which was more or less a glorified basin with metal rust spotted legs, whenever you walked thru the door.

Your older brother shook his head. “The fool took on an extra shift.” He said around a lungful of smoke that he blew out of his mouth.

“Supper's almost ready.” Ashlie announced, placing the pot on the counter only to start mashing the potatoes with a wooden spoon that was splintered and had seen better days. “How was your day at the apothecary shop?” Your brother's girlfriend asked as you walked by the kitchen on your way to your bedroom, so that you could put your book away on your bedside table (like you do every night when you get home).

“It was fine.” You answered, entering the hall.

It was more then fine, since you made a new friend. But you weren't ready to tell anyone about Coryo just yet.

Only if you knew how great of a friend Coryo really was. Would you still be mesmerized by his crystal blue eyes, platinum buzz cut, and strong jaw that makes him look more like a god then a man, if you knew how black his soul was? Would you want him around you if you knew how he was destroying your livelihood?

The wooden stairs lightly creaked underneath the weight of Coriolanus’ boots as he made his way to Doula Ada’s apartment above the apothecary shop. The street lamps made his shadow look long, dark, and lean. Like an ominous horror creature of sorts.

Except a horror creature would probably be more friendlier then Coriolanus Snow.

When he reached the door of the flat, he balled his hand into a fist and furiously banged on it. “Peacekeeper, open up!” Coriolanus loudly ordered, knowing that tossing his weight around (despite just being a grunt) would get him the results he wanted.

Everyone in the districts bow down to peacekeepers. Listen to them, even if they don't respect them.

Except for you. His girl. You doesn't cower when you see him in his full uniform. No, you locked eyes with him and gave him the warmest, kindest smile that made love bloom and blossom between the two of you immediately.

You’re proud to be on his arm because you fell in love with him at first sight, just like he did with you. Cupid’s arrow struck at the right moment, when you and Coriolanus laid eyes on each other and shared smiles. And you can't tell him otherwise.

When the door opened, an older woman stood in the doorway. She didn't look him in the eye as she addressed him. “What's the matter, Sir? I've paid the rent for my shop and have a permit to allow me travel after curfew to tend to my patients.”

Coriolanus pushed past Doula Ada, causing her to stumble- she would've fallen if she didn't grab the door to keep her upright, and darkly chuckled. “For owning the only apothecary in the district, your apartment's poorly furnished.”

“Is there a reason you're here, Sir?” The doula asked, clutching her chest. It was painted all over her face that she was afraid.

Good, she should be afraid. Coriolanus could destroy her entire bloodline if he wanted with a snap of his finger and the simple word of rebel.

Ignoring the older woman, Coriolanus walked over to a small table that had a couple of pictures neatly arranged on it. The picture that caught his eye was one that had the dirty blonde man and flaxen haired girl he saw exit the shop earlier that day. So, they were the doula’s family.

Good. Very good. That means they can be used for leverage to get what he wants.

Picking up the framed photograph, he looked at it for a second or so before flashing it at Doula Ada. “This your family?”

“Yes.” Doula Ada nodded. “That's my daughter and her fiance. Why do you ask?”

Placing the picture back where he found it, Coriolanus turned to the woman and calmly, but coldly, ordered, “Fire Y/N Halvir or else I'll make sure you see your family hang for treason.”

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @nowitsmissing @edb954 @astarborntowrite @diannnnsss @devils-blackrose @gentle-aesthetic-bby @elizabeth-nobennet @harvey-malfoy

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 2 months

Note

Jack Harlow “I can tell you’ve been working out.” 🥵

Work Out

Warning: smut, language

A/N: this has not been edited lol

Jack had the day off, so you weren't the least bit surprised to see him come down for breakfast in nothing but a tank and his boxer shorts. You always liked to let him sleep in on the days he wasn't going a million miles a minute, so you were up early to make his favorite breakfast and get the girls ready for school.

"Daddy!" Aaliyah ran to Jack, and you couldn't help but notice how effortlessly he swept her into his arms, his biceps and triceps flexing as he held her on his hip. "Oof- Good Morning, snuggle bug. Did you sleep well?" You couldn't hear a word either of them said, your eyes were fixated on the contours of his muscles that were very visible underneath the his clingy tank top.

Jack always looked good, but lately you'd noticed a change in his physique as he spent more time with his personal trainer. You let out a tiniest squeak as your mind ran wild with fantasies, but it was loud enough for Jack to notice, his head snapping towards you, a smirk turning up the corners of his mouth as he noticed you checking him out. Jack had been so busy the last couple of days, you two barely got a moment to yourself, let alone enough time for more than a quickie in the shower, and it was easy for your brain to think the filthiest of thoughts.

"Babe." The pet name and firm hand on the small of your back ripped you from your daydream, making you drop the knife in your hand, covered in peanut butter, on the ground. "Everything okay?" His breath tickled your ear as he leaned in close, sending a shiver down your spine. You could hear the smile in his voice as his hand trailed down to grab a handful of your ass, forceful enough to make you jump- he was enjoying every second of this.

"Jack, the girls." You snapped out of it and stepped away from him, Jack watching you intently as you picked up the now dirty knife and cleaned up your mess. "Girls, go get your shoes on and pack your backpacks, okay?" Brooklyn and Aaliyah ran out of the kitchen, and as soon as they were out of sight, Jack jumped you, his hands on your hips, digging into your flesh. "Didn't you just wake up?", you joked, even though you both knew he better not dare take his hands off of you. Your ran a hand through his messy curls, pushing them out of his face.

"I'm not the one with the staring problem", he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your lips. You didn't bite back, trying your best to resist him. You had so much to do today, taking the girls to school, grocery shopping, oil cha- your never ending to-do list slipped your mind when he deepened the kiss, taking your breath away as he pulled your bottom lip in between his teeth, his tongue taking creative liberties as it roamed your mouth.

"Mom!", you pushed him off of you at the sound of Brooklyn's voice. Jack rested his chin on your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the muscle before letting out a frustrated sigh. "Yes, baby?", you yelled back with huff. "Where are my pink sneakers?"

"I don't know Brookie? Can't you wear your green and white ones?"

"No! It doesn't match my outfit!", she shouted back. "Check the hall closet, B", Jack chimed in. You heard her rifle through the closet for a few seconds before letting out a squeal. "I found them!"

"Great", Jack mumbled as he placed a hand at the base of your neck, pulling you into him, your lips crashing together. "Jack, I need to get the girls to school", you breathed out when he gave you a reprieve, his gaze trapped on your swollen lips. He felt a warm buzzing over his entire body, as it was taking everything in him not to have his way with you right where the two of you stood.

"Come home right after you take the girls to school, okay?" His voice was that perfect mixture of groggy and husk after a long night's sleep. You didn't need to hear anything else to know what he had planned for you, the smile on his face, and his hand dangerously close to the waistband of your panties underneath your jeans was enough of a hint.

****

The house was a peaceful quiet when you returned. You took a minute to clean up the kitchen and the trail of items the girls left in their wake before heading upstairs.

"Jack?" You pushed your bedroom door open to find Jack passed out on the edge of the bed, his lips slightly pursed as he let sharp breaths out of his nostrils. You carefully settled down by his side, studying his face as his nose scrunched and his lashed fluttered. You stifled a giggle as you ran a finger down the bridge of his nose, stirring him awake. He hummed with a smile as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in closer. "Five more minutes."

You gingerly pressed a kiss to his cheek, letting your lips linger against his skin. "What happened to your plans for me?"

"That's why I need the sleep. I'm preserving my energy." He looked at you with lustful eyes, his lids heavy with exhaustion. "Go back to sleep baby, I know you're tired." You barely got propped on an arm to get up before he pulled you back down.

"Nah ah." You squealed as he flipped you on your back, his chest pressing your body into the mattress. "I'll sleep better once I know I've fucked you senseless."

You let out a sharp gasp as he latched onto your neck, his hands roaming down to your waist to unbutton your jeans. You grabbed onto his bicep to steady yourself as he pushed your pants past your hips. The moan you let out as you felt his muscles contract in your hand made Jack stop and sit up, straddling your hips. "I haven't even done anything yet", he chuckled as he worked to pull your shirt over your head.

"Sorry", you felt your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. He was your husband of many years, and still he had you giddy like a school girl. "You've got nothing to be sorry for. What's up?"

You almost passed out at the sight of his toned chest as he stripped his tank top off. "Um, does EJ have you doing something different?" Jack cocked his head at you. "What'd you mean?"

“I can tell you’ve been working out. Like you always look good, but lately-”. You couldn't even finish your sentence, biting your bottom lip as you grazed your fingers over the ripples of his abs. You toyed with the band of his boxers before pushing the fabric past his erection, springing his cock free to lay against his lower stomach. Jack let out a guttural groan, every muscle in his body tightening as he watched you begin to stroke the head of his cock, precum leaking from the tip and pooling in your palm. He was just as desperate for sex as you were, and he wasn't gonna last long at the speed you were moving your hand.

"That's enough", he huffed out, moving your arm, and hastily pushing your knees to your chest. He had run out of patience, electing to push your panties to the side instead of taking them off, his fingers playing with the wetness on your glistening pussy, and pressing a finger into your entrance just enough to make you feel the stretch before pulling out.

"Damn, if I knew you were this desperate for me, I would have taken care of you as soon as I came home last night." He was beaming with pride, cocky even, that only he could make you come undone like this. You let out a pitiful whimper, letting him know you were at your wits end, your fingers and toes tingling in anticipation. "I know, I know", he cooed over you as he pushed himself inside of you, slowly pushing past your cushiony walls till he was at the hilt, his pelvis pressing against your ass.

You were overcome with pleasure, your back arching as he began to rock his hips back and forth, giving you a chance to adjust to his size. You pulled his body weight on top of you by the chain around his neck, messily kissing him as he quickened his pace, his hips faltering as he struggled to focus on both tasks. You just needed every part of his body on yours, desperate for his touch as much as you were for him to fill you up.

Jack could feel your sense of urgency, breaking apart to look down at you. "Baby, I'm not going anywhere", he assured you, peppering kisses against your jawline. He moved his arms to frame your face as he quickened his pace, the sounds of your wetness filling the room as he continued to fuck you. You could feel the coil in your core tightened, every press of his pelvis against your pussy pressing against your sensitive clit. "Fuck, don't stop. Fu-faster please."

Jack was fighting against his internal clock, the warmth pooling in his stomach as he set a grueling pace, quickly sending you both hurdling towards your orgasms. You hooked your heels around his waist, pulling him in deeper with each stroke. "Fuck you feel so good", Jack panted in your ear, his face burrowing in the crook of your neck.

I'm coming", you moaned out, your head knocking back as he continued to thrust in and out of your squelching pussy. You felt the sweat on his scalp as you grabbed at the curls at the back of his neck, your orgasm washing over you as you came hard around his dick, your muscles clenching, dragging his orgasm out of him only seconds after yours. He took his time, pulling himself all the way out before pushing himself agonizingly slow into your pussy, pushing his release back into you and extending your orgasm, every single nerve ending in your body firing off with pleasure.

He pushed himself off of you and disappeared into the bathroom, emerging from the bathroom with a warm washcloth. You shivered as he wiped your inner thighs off, chuckling to himself at the sight of how sensitive you still were to his touch. "What?", you asked, draping an arm over your face to hide your bashfulness.

"Don't hide from me, babe. You know better than that." He climbed back into the bed next to you, pulling your leg to drape your thigh over his own, your cheek resting on his chest. You made him as equally giddy, and he knew you always would. "We can't go more than three days without doing that." His gesture made you giggle. "Sounds good to me."

He sat up quickly to grab his phone from the nightstand before laying back down. "What're you doing?", you knitted your brow together while you watched him send off a text. "I'm seeing if my mom can pick up the girls after school and watch them for the night."

"Why?", you asked. It was a school night, a typical Wednesday.

"We have a lot of catching up to do. I'm taking a nap, and then we're going for round two." Jack's face was dead serious, making your stomach flip. He tossed his phone to the side, before grabbing a blanket and draping it over your naked forms. "You better get some sleep too, I'm expecting a repeat performance."

#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #jackman harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic

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kurogane2512 · 6 months

Text

Kinktober 2023 day 3

Bath/shower sex and mommy kink with....

Fem! reader. Also contains some edging and roleplay. This is pre Stellaron Cocolia, she is still the Supreme Guardian btw

Your best friend Bronya's mother was your long-time crush, you had met her countless times and she always treated you so kindly and lovingly, like a true mother. You never once thought she'd agree to date you but she did, and she seemed quite eager about it as if she had the same thoughts for a while. But still, you decided to keep your relationship a secret from others, especially Bronya.

"Oh my, Y/n~ Have you come to meet Bronya?" Cocolia chimed as you stood on her doorway early morning, a small smirk on her face.

"Ah- not really, I was just...." you trailed off with a blush making her chuckle and grab your wrist.

"She already went out for training but you came at a perfect time. Come in, there is some help I require~"

You nodded and she swiftly pulled you inside her house then you followed her as she went to her room followed by opening the door to the bathroom.

"I was going to take a bath, would you help me wash my back?"

"S-Sure!" you agreed almost instantly and she smiled then instructed you to wait inside the bathroom while she fetched her clothes and other bathing things. Your mind rushed through various scenarios at the sudden turn of events, but you were more than glad to indulge in them. Cocolia came in soon after with just a towel wrapped around her body and her soft blonde hair tied into a bun.

"Hmm...." she hummed and approached you before pressing her body against you, "Why don't you take off your own clothes too? They might get wet otherwise. And I'll wash you as well as a way to return the favor." She leaned near your ear to whisper, "You'll let your mommy take care of you, right?~"

You shuddered at her husky voice and warm breath brushing your ear, clealry getting aroused from her ministrations. But you found yourself removing your clothes with haste and standing in front of her with a reddened face. She grinned then suddenly pushed you against the wall of the shower booth, the movement making her towel drop from her body and her beautiful breasts on display for you.

"Wait, Cocolia— mhm!~"

She instantly pressed her lips on yours, preventing you from speaking anything. This wasn't how you thought things would go when she proposed for you to help her bath, but now you realize it couldn't be more obvious.

"Your timing to come here was too perfect....I wonder if you were already aware of Bronya's morning training today?~"

"....She told me last night when we were chatting."

"My~ Such an opportunistic girl, your Supreme Guardian is impressed. Now, as promised, I'll wash you up~"

"I thought I was supposed to wash you first?"

"Now now, don't care of the details too much~"

She turned on the shower and started kissing you feverishly, her hands softly cupped your face while yours were wrapped around her waist and slowly moving down to cup her ass. She felt your hands roaming on her body and smirked before releasing the kiss.

"How impatient you are....so eager early in the morning~"

"I believe you are the eager one here, mommy~"

Ah, you shouldn't have said that. A switch flipped in Cocolia now. She harshly turned you around pressed you into the wall while snaking her arm around your waist and placing kisses on your back. Your back arched then her hand travelled down between your thighs and touched your slit, you let out a low moan feeling her fingers play with your clit while her lips sucked on your shoulder to leave marks.

"Being a bad girl so early in the morning. Do you want your mommy to discipline you?~"

"Mhm....y-yes....aahn~"

"Hehe, there there~ Leave everything to your mommy~"

She bit down on your neck and sucked hard, drawing a surprised gasp from you as her teeth sunk in your skin. Her fingers were already rubbing your folds now and you felt them prod at your hole before being pushed inside. You moaned and arched forward more, trying to support yourself on the wall but the slipperiness from the shower made it difficult.

"So wet....even with the water, I can tell these are your own juices dripping down. My girl is so eager for me~"

"Yes, mommy! Please, I want you inside!"

"Shh shh~ No need to be so restless, your mommy knows when you want it~"

Your mind was becoming hazy now, her fingers scissored inside your spongy walls and thrusted with ease. She hit all your sensitive spots easily, as if she knew your insides like the back of her hand. Her tongue lapped up your ear before gently nibbling on the edge while her other hand pulled you closer to herself.

"I-I'm cumming, mommy! Please let me!~"

Your moans resounded in the bathroom and Cocolia relished every single noise you let out. She suddenly flipped you once again to make you face her and immediately kissed you while thrusting her fingers in quick successions now.

"What a good girl I have. Come on, release for your mommy now~"

That's all you wanted to hear. You threw your head back as you finally orgasmed, coating her hand with your slick. She pulled it out and licked off every single drop before smiling and softly kissing you.

"You'll do your mommy too, right?~"

Your eyes widened but you quickly nodded making her chuckle, "Come with me, I prepared something extra~"

She lead you out of the shower booth and made you stand beside the bath tub that was already filled with water, rose petals and a fragrant body wash. You climbed in together and she straddled your lap, wrapping her arms around your neck and lovingly gazing at you.

"This....did you already know I'd come?"

"Hehe~ No, I prepared this for myself earlier. But I get to share it with you now~"

You smiled at her and pulled her in to crash your lips on lips, engaging in a passionate and heated make out. Your lips glided over each other's with ease, your tongues intertwining in ecstasy. You felt her grind against your thigh, seeking her own release impatiently now.

"Come on, don't keep your mommy waiting~"

#kuro's kinktober #honkai star rail #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #cocolia rand #hsr cocolia x reader #cocolia x reader #cocolia smut

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the-kr8tor · 6 months

Text

Mudwood Manor

Pairing: Fae! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 3.1k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, CW food mention, TW Blood, CW injury.

The Fall Masterlist

Navigation

Part I >>> Part II

You lay awake alone on the plush mattress that's not your own. Morning light filtering through the curtains, shining warmth right on your cheek. Your hand roaming around the soft fur of the blanket as the clock ticks slowly to eight. Eyes above the detailed swirling patterns on the bed's canopy, mind drifting back to the home you've left just a few days ago.

Tick.

Taking the ad for this house-sitting gig went better than you thought it would be. Thinking the house you would be watching over will just be a regular house in an urban subdivision. Not an estate full of ancient history situated in the middle of nowhere with only an elderly dog as a companion.

Tock.

At least it's better than your dead end job that makes you feel your soul is getting sucked with every hour you stay on the eighties musky carpeted floors, tapping away your entire life on the grainy screen of the corporate issued computer. The pay's good, better than what you were getting before anyway, even though it's only five months of house sitting it's way above your salary grade. You thank whatever entity out there that blew over the newspaper that literally landed on your lap while waiting for the bus stop, the 'help wanted' page open and glaring right at you. You only wish the job's longer though.

Tick.

The house being nice is an understatement, all oak and narra floors, fixtures and furniture made of the same wood. No sign of modernity in the entire estate. Even the kitchen is in an old style, well except for the coffee maker and microwave. Every hall and wall is covered in oil paintings, portraits of people dressed in old garb keep watch of your every move. The house creaks and shrieks during the late hours of the cold autumn night, always prompting you to keep your eyes tightly closed in an attempt to tamp down your curiosity.

Tock.

It's secluded enough that the air here feels crisp and cleaner than in the city. Trees whisper in the wind, moss clinging to its trunks. You suspect the house is as old as the woods that surround it. With vines curled and looped around the house's exterior and curved stained glass windows decorate its walls. Mudwood Manor they call it for every time it rains, mud gathers around the estate, threatening to swallow you like quick sand.

Chime!

The old grandfather clock's hand reaches eight, the sound echoes around the large room you've settled in. With an exhale, you reluctantly sit up, feet cold from the icy floor. Yawning, you wipe the sleep off your face, bones crying out in protest.

Lumbering your way through the usual morning routine, you change out of your pajamas even though no one else would see you in it, you still wear your usual day clothes, always feeling like you have to dress appropriately in this opulent house. If jeans and a jumper is considered appropriate in the massive estate.

The bathroom is no different than the rest of the house. With the large stark white bathtub in the middle of its tiled floors, twin sinks covered in dark marble, golden faucets squeak open as you turn the knob to brush your teeth. The entire bathroom is as big as your flat back in the city, you scoff at the extravagance of it all.

You like to think the owner of the place fits well with the manor, as eccentric and elegant as their home– all pearls and gold rings, silk and cashmere on their body. But alas you've never met him or them personally, only talking details on the telephone, his gruff voice vibrating against the receiver. They leave the key under the large mat after you've driven three hours to get there. The only clue you have of them actually existing is the instructions they've left you. The note now pinned on the fridge stocked full of food that could last you the entire five months, not to mention the large pantry that could feed an entire village.

You've got everything you'll ever need to survive five months alone. The thought scares you for a bit, but with the silence, fresh air and an entire library of books that you've never thought you could read in your lifetime, the loneliness isn't all bad, the place calms you down; if not for the bouts of sadness, you could see this place as your home for the time being.

The old border collie waits for you in the kitchen, mismatched eyes staring at your form, her tongue lolling on the side, greeting you with what you see as a smile.

"Morning, old Nellie" you greet back with a quick pet on her fluffy head, taking the time to scratch behind her ears. She wags her tail happily, while her eyes are closed in content. You've decided to talk from time to time so that you don't lose your voice, which Nellie appreciates the chatter.

You feed Nellie her breakfast first before fixing one yourself. She eats it in glee. The instructions written in neat cursive jumps at you every morning before opening the fridge.

You can't help but read it again.

1. Do not let anyone in.

You thought that was reasonable enough, it's not your place to invite people in here anyway.

2. Do not wipe the salt line on the doors and windows.

Now that's weird, you've always thought, but to each their own. The salt probably helps with keeping out the smell or rodents. Right?

3. The house is old, the sounds at night are from the metal pipes and scaffolding. Nothing to worry about.

Creepy, it's not like the place needs an extra creep factor added in it.

4. Feed Nellie three times a day without fail. Take her on walks around the estate every morning and before the sun sets.

That's alright, taking care of pets was part of the deal anyway. And it doesn't hurt that Nellie's a good dog to hang around with.

5. Do not in any circumstance go to the woods.

6. Wear the necklace at all times.

Your eyes drift over to the simple circular metal necklace sitting on the counter top, scoffing, you chose not to wear it just because an eccentric millionaire tells you to.

7. Only eat and drink the food I have provided.

You don't think you want to meet the owners now with how creepy they are just based on his instructions. Possessive much?

8. Be wary.

A shiver runs down your spine by just reading those two words.

You shake it off, opening the fridge, nothing piques

your interest this morning. Huffing, you have a hankering for fresh bread, alas you've eaten the last loaf yesterday. The strawberry jam inside the fridge mocks you. You recall on your drive to the manor you've passed by a small village, you're sure the place has a bakery or even a café in it. You crave a different scenery, and to use your voice other than for talking to Nellie.

Turning around, you put your hands on your hips, smiling at your companion who licks at the last bit of food in her bowl.

"What do you say for a stroll, Nellie?" She tilts her head in question, ears perking up, tail wagging excitedly.

—

You've never felt more isolated from civilization while walking towards the village, no houses run along the bumpy road, just miles and miles of trees with its aging wood, wild violets swaying around its trunks. The tall grass makes it hard to see the path. Mist blanketing and moistening the soil.

The walk was a lot longer than you thought it would be, now you're absolutely starving after walking for almost an hour. Nellie wasn't complaining though, for an older dog she seems to have so much energy in her. The village has clearly seen history, with its cobblestone streets, iron lampposts and ancient bricks. The fog thickens, blanketing the roofs of the village like marshmallow fluff.

You tie her leash around a lamp post, petting her fluffy head, you instruct her to sit and stay. She obliges, staring happily at you through her blue and brown eyes.

"Good girl, I'll be back in a flash" you make a mental note of buying her a treat for being such a good sport while you drag her from the manor.

Entering the shop, the bells chime signaling your arrival. Freshly baked bread wafts your senses as various meat is on display over at the counter, waiting for your perusal. You smell the soup of the day, judging by the aroma, you deduce it being butter squash soup, your stomach rumbles at the thought.

The modest shop has quite a few people in it. They chatter amongst their friends whilst eating breakfast and drinking their morning tea. Another patron enters behind you, she greets everyone by name, while the others immediately greet her the same. Well, except for a group of strangers sitting at the far end, they pay her no mind at all. It's a small village, you never doubted for a second that everyone would know every person that lives here. You've anticipated it actually, so used to being alienated from the crowd, you haven't noticed the old woman beckoning you over with a smile.

"Bonnie?" She calls for the third time.

"Oh! Sorry, I was thinking what to order" you move closer to the counter, the chill from the cold cuts display seeps through your jumper.

"You're the new caretaker at the old manor I presume?" She grins sweetly, showing her smile lines around her lips.

"House-sitter, I'm only here for five months" you're wary about telling her vital information, but she's an old woman. What's the harm in telling her that?

"Oh, I see he's going for a quick business trip this time. He would usually take an entire year away, y'know" her thick accent makes it hard for you to understand some of her words. Nonetheless, you don't miss the vital information about your mysterious employer. "But I don't gossip" she chuckles, "what will it be, deary?"

"You know Mr. O'hara, the owner?"

"Aye, known him since he was a lad. Good kid he was." She shakes her head. "There I go gossiping again, what are you havin'?"

You want more answers to feed your curiosity, but you don't want to pester the poor woman. "A BLT with cheese if you have them, lightly toasted and some of the soup, please." she nods, heading over to her station to prepare your sandwich when an older man chides in your conversation.

"Oh please, Orla y'know stopping yourself from gossiping just hurts you more" he laughs from his belly, white beard bouncing as he guffaws with his friends sitting him with.

"This" Orla, gestures from you to her. "Was a private conversation, where's your manners?"

"Don't know where I last put it!" He laughs again, shaking the wooden table in front of him. "Miss, let me guess, O'hara gave you those crazy rules?"

You perk up at the mention of the list. "Yeah, he did. How'd you know?"

He shrugs while the other patrons listen in, "he does the same thing to his other caretakers, there's a 'be wary' one, right?"

"Yes, it's really creepy"

The old woman pipes up, talking over her shoulder as she slices your sandwich. "It's a necessary evil after what happened to his daughter"

"What happened to his daughter?" You ask with trepidation.

"Don't tell me you actually believe that, old woman?" The older man argues back.

"Believe what?" You feel like there's an inside joke you keep missing.

"She was taken by them." Orla, turns around with your soup packed in a tupperware. You look at her questioningly.

"Bullshit if you ask me" the old man mumbles behind his mug. He sees your confused look, "she's talking about the fae" you thank him with a nod.

"It's true!" She wraps your sandwich inside foil, carefully putting it inside the paper bag. "There's no logical answer on where she is! Now it's just O'Hara in that massive estate."

"Kid just ran away, that's all!" Another older man argues back.

"Pssh," Orla swats him away with her hand, he turns away with a scoff. She turns back towards you, ringing your order up in the cashier. "Just do what his list says and you'll be fine" she says it like a warning to never stray far from the rules.

"Why do you think it's the fae?" You give her the payment she needs.

Humming, she clicks her tongue. "Just know it's them."

"Okay, um thank you" drifting away, she holds your arm back, taking your attention again.

Orla looks at you with wide eyes. "You know about them, yes?"

"Yes, like don't eat their food or you'll get stuck or don't give them your name or say thank you. I've heard the folk stories"

"Not just a story. The wood sings and they crave an audience." she lets go of your arm, your breath hitching, goosebumps appear on your skin.

You shake the thought, or try to at least.

The door chimes as you leave. Nellie lays on the pavement, tail wagging as she sees you come back to her side.

"Hi, got you something" she stands up, barking at you in excitement. "Okay, okay, here" Chuckling, you take a slice of bacon from your sandwich, giving it to her.

Nellie carefully takes it from your hand without biting your fingers, she chews happily.

"Good?" You scratch behind her fluffy ear. "Let's go back" untying her leash, you juggle the sandwich and her lead with your hands. The horror stories you've been told in your youth echoes in your mind, as your soft footfalls on the moist pavement. Wind rushes past you, pushing you back towards the manor.

—

Arriving inside the gates of Mudwood Manor, you gaze at the large brick building. It casts a shadow over you, its stature imposing. Fading bricks and trellises crawling with overgrown vines that's starting to wither and turn dark with bits of oranges and red still clinging to its last life. The large red door of the main entrance adds to your uneasiness. You attribute the fear from what the deli owner told you, the woods don't look much better. Tall trees with leaves so thick it blocks sunlight from hitting the undergrowth. From where you're standing, darkness seems to prevail inside. The thick fog added to the eeriness of the scene. It drapes over the treeline like curtains, swirling smoke falling down to the tips of your shoes, hiding something behind you can't quite see.

Just staring from the woodland edge gives you a sense of belonging with every second you stand idle. You have no idea why this feeling encapsulates you. The wind tries to push you towards the dark, flashes of autumn colored leaves swirl past. Eyelashes fluttering in the wind, your lips part as you listen to the flora dancing in the wind, as if it beckons you over. Daring you to cross the edge.

You wake up from the trance as Nellie growls at a squirrel taunting her from the ground. She pulls at her leash, the rope taut, your hand aches at the burn. You let go of the paper bag, half eaten soup spills over the grass, now holding the leash with both hands, you struggle to control the border collie.

"Nellie, calm down!" You yelp in pain when Nellie lunges, escaping your hold. The rope leaves angry marks on your palms, skin aching from the piercing pain. Nellie runs, following the grey squirrel into the woods. You can hear her barks fading in the distance. "Nellie! Come back!" You yell but it's futile as the old dog disappears from view.

"Fuck!" Without thinking, you run after her, legs carrying you further into the thick trees. The fog parts, opening the way. Eyes roaming the moss covered soil for her footprints. "Nellie!"

You're gonna lose your job, the thought makes you run faster. Tripping on a rock, you land on your already injured hand, dirt and grime sticking to the angry gashes, blood mixing with soil. Ignoring the pain, you push through the thicket.

Running, muscles aching, there's a stitch on your side as you stop to catch your breath. Hands on your thighs, you inhale and exhale. Nellie's footprints are barely visible under all the green and orange. Standing to your full height, your heart thumping like a drum under your ribcage. Eyes widening at the darkness that envelopes you, whirling around, fear overtakes your entire being.

You're lost.

Everywhere you look, identical trees fill your vision, cold seeping into your bones, smoke escapes your parted lips. Fingers turning stiff, you turn around when you hear Nellie's familiar bark.

"Nellie! Come here, girl!" You clap your hands to get her attention. "Nellie!"

Another bark echoes out in the dark, with only bits of sunlight filtering through the thicket, you let your other senses guide you to the sound. Speed walking, dry leaves crunch under your shoes, you call out to Nellie again. Narrowly avoiding a tree root protruding from the ground, you step over it so you don't land face first into the moist soil.

You stop when silence permeates the woods again. Standing still, a ring of mushrooms at your feet, you breathe heavily. "Nellie!" Frustrated, you yell again.

Instinctively stepping past a mushroom, you move your neck around, eyes roaming, looking for her white and black fur. Your palms land to your clammy forehead, wincing when you graze your injury.

"Fuck!" You stop circling around when the woods seem to expand right in front of your eyes, moving, flinging away, adding to the acres of wooded land. Vision focusing and unfocusing as the expanse extends further away. Fear once again blankets your nerves. Your mind claws at you to keep running.

"Lost?" A deep voice asks behind you. Alluring, tempting you to answer back.

Your blood suddenly runs cold. Primal fear makes your heart leap out of your chest.

Light suddenly appears behind you, your shadow gets taller and taller until it finally leaves you. Alone, you don't dare look behind you. The hair on the back of your neck stands up despite the warmth radiating from behind. Trepidation howls inside you.

Blood rushes in your ears, knuckles tighten, nails digging into skin as crimson drips on the tall grass below.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, curiosity wins over you.

You dare look behind.

188 notes · View notes

novlr · 3 months

Note

What are some ways to describe summer ?

Summer is not just a season; it’s a vibrant setting that can add life and color to your writing. Whether you’re crafting a sun-soaked romance or a beach thriller, the way you describe summer can immerse readers in your story. Let’s dive into how you can capture the essence of summer, focusing on the various senses and elements that make this season unique.

Sights

Sunsets that paint the sky in hues of orange, pink, and purple.

Children chasing ice cream trucks down suburban lanes.

Sunbathers dotting the coastline.

Sprinklers casting rainbows across freshly mowed lawns.

Flower gardens in full bloom, a riot of colours.

Sunglasses showing reflections of the bright world.

Sun hats and flip-flops scattered around pool decks.

Fireflies illuminating the night.

Street markets bustling with locals buying fresh produce.

Hikers on forest trails.

Sounds

The cacophony of cicadas in the late afternoon.

Waves crashing against the shore in a constant rhythm.

The sizzle and pop of barbecues in backyards.

Children’s laughter as they play outside.

Ice clinking in glasses of lemonade or cocktails.

The distant whirr of lawn mowers.

Splashes and shouts from swimming pools.

Chirping songbirds greeting the morning.

The crackle of bonfires during cool summer nights.

The melodic chimes of ice cream trucks roaming the streets.

Smells

The salty tang of sea air at the beach.

The overpowering scent of chlorinated pools.

Freshly cut grass after morning lawn care.

The scent of sunscreen and tanning oils on warm skin.

The smoky aroma of grills at a neighborhood cookout or family barbeque.

Fragrant blossoms like jasmine and roses in full bloom.

The earthy smell of rain on hot pavement.

The mix of fruits, vegetables, fried food, and flowers at an open-air market.

Melting tar with an accompanying heat shimmer on hot roads.

Campfire smoke clinging to clothes and hair during outdoor adventures.

Activities

Beach volleyball games, sand flying as players dive for the ball.

Leisurely picnics in the shade of ancient trees.

Hiking trips taking advantage of the long daylight hours.

Sailing and boating, the wind filling sails on sunlit waters.

Outdoor concerts, where music floats on the warm night air.

Road trips with car windows down, hair whipping in the wind.

Fruit picking in orchards and berry farms.

Camping under the stars, a tent and a sleeping bag for a home.

Water fights with hoses, water guns, and balloons.

Attending summer festivals full of food, music, and dance.

Character body language

Wiping sweat from the brow or fanning themselves to cool down.

Squinting against the harsh sunlight or seeking out spots of shade.

Sipping cold drinks, or gulping down water.

Lounging lazily, limbs relaxed and sprawled out.

Applying sunscreen meticulously.

Adjusting sunglasses or hats for better protection.

Dipping toes tentatively into the sea or a pool.

Tugging at clothes sticking to sweat-dampened skin.

Laughing with carefree abandon, a reflection of summer’s ease.

Turning pages of a paperback with fingers damp from pool water.

Positive descriptions

The liberating feeling of diving into cool water on a scorching day.

The tranquil peace of a sunrise beach yoga session.

The simple pleasure of ice cream melting on the tongue.

The bliss of a hammock nap swayed by a gentle breeze.

The joy of endless blue skies promising adventure.

The warmth of sun-kissed skin after a day outdoors.

The satisfaction of a well-tended garden coming to life.

The contentment of sharing a sunset with loved ones.

The thrill of catching the perfect wave while surfing.

The comfort of balmy evenings spent on porch swings.

Negative descriptions

The oppressive heat making the air feel thick and suffocating.

The relentless buzzing of mosquitoes on a muggy night.

The sting of sunburn after a day of neglecting sunscreen.

The frustration of packed tourist spots and overcrowded beaches.

The exhaustion induced by long days and sweltering heat.

The discomfort of air thick with humidity.

The annoyance of sand finding its way into every nook and cranny.

The disappointment of a rained-out picnic or canceled event.

The lethargy of a heatwave, energy sapped by the relentless sun.

The discomfort of trying to sleep in an overheated, uncooled room.

Helpful Adjectives

Scorching

Balmy

Sultry

Languid

Radiant

Dazzling

Parched

Breezy

Rippling

Sweltering

Sunny

Lush

Blistering

Tropical

Vibrant

Humid

Verdant

Golden

Glowing

Fragrant

Torrid

Tranquil

Crisp

Sizzling

Flaming

Steamy

Refreshing

Shimmering

Lazy

Stifling

Invigorating

Sparkling

Zesty

Fervent

Stuffy

Arid

Saturated

Juicy

Sunbaked

Fetid

141 notes · View notes

sailortongue · 6 months

Text

As YOU Wish

pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

wc: 1.1k

summary: on the search for a particular book, you have a brief encounter with the owner of a local bookstore. But perhaps the ex-FBI agent also finds himself in search of something more after meeting you

cw: based on the netflix show You so Spencer is a red flag here

an: my cousin wrote the summary and it sounds so cute i had half a mind to rewrite this to just be an innocent meet cute

--------

The bell above the door chimed, signaling to Spencer that a customer had arrived—the first of the day, actually. He glanced up from the register to see a young woman about his age enter. Beautiful, he thought. He was taking in every aspect of your appearance as quickly as he could. The way you styled your hair, the color of your eyes, the worn-out pair of Converse that rivaled his own pair. He shook his head once to clear his thoughts, not wanting to embarrass himself before he even had the chance to ask for your name.

He plastered a smile on his face and greeted you with a “good morning”.

“Good morning,” you said, returning the smile.

Spencer watched you roam around the store, seemingly browsing more than looking for anything in particular. He noticed the way you gently ran your fingers over the spines of some of the books before pulling them from the shelves to read their summaries. Definitely cherishes her books. But no matter what book you pulled, it was always returned to its place. Spencer began taking notice of the way your eyes roved the many titles available, a small frown becoming more and more prominent the more you looked. Maybe you are looking for something. He voiced his thoughts aloud and called out, “Can I help you find anything?”

You turned to face the admittedly very handsome employee. The smile you gave him this time was one of embarrassment, feeling unreasonably foolish that he’d noticed you struggling to find what you were looking for. From Spencer’s point of view though, that embarrassment looked an awful lot like shyness, which was easily interpreted as interest. Hopefully as much as he had in you.

“Yes, please. I’m trying to find The Princess Bride,” you answered.

Spencer thought about it for a moment, trying to remember if it was in the fantasy, adventure, or romance section. “It is . . .” he started, dragging out the last syllable as he walked farther into the shelves with you following close behind. “right here,” he finished, gesturing to the book in question.

“Thank you!” you exclaimed excitedly. Just before you were going to reach for it, an idea struck you. You hoped and prayed that he’d understand, otherwise you’d just be embarrassing yourself again. Should that happen, you'd simply never come back to this store and would probably dwell on it for the rest of your life. You decided to take the chance anyway. “Fetch me that book?” you asked him.

Spencer looked at you incredulously. Is she serious? The shelf is barely above her head, she could reach it with no pro—

He chuckled as he realized what you were referencing. He grinned down at you as he pulled the book from the shelf. “As you wish.”

You giggled as he handed it to you. “So happy you understood that. I think I would have died of shame if you didn’t.”

That got a true laugh out of the handsome man. “I’ll admit it took me a second to get it, but that was perfect. Have you read it before or just watched the movie?”

“I’ve read it before, but my copy has up and vanished. It’s one of my favorites, so it was imperative that I get another one.”

He nods as if in understanding but his expression is one of confusion. “If it’s one of your favorites, then how did you lose it?”

“I just moved here recently. Went through all of my boxes but still can’t find it, so I’ve chalked it up to it getting lost in the move.”

“Well then, I’m glad to have been of assistance. Is that all you were looking for today?”

“For today, yes, but I’ll definitely be back. I don't think I’ve ever been in a bookstore as cozy as this one.”

Spencer beamed at you, pleased with your praise of the shop he’d worked so hard to establish. “Thank you. I worked very hard to make it that way.”

You looked at him quizzically. “You designed the shop?”

“No, I own it,” he said humorously. “Spencer Reid, owner of Reid’s Reads. It’s nice to meet you,” he introduced himself, even going as far as to offer you his hand, which ordinarily he’d never do. But the thought of initiating any kind of skin-to-skin contact was too thrilling to pass up.

“I’m Y/n, it’s nice to meet you, too,” you said, shaking the hand he’d offered.

“If that’s all you need then I can go ahead and get you checked out?” His eyes were wide and expressive as he looked to you for confirmation.

“Oh. Right.” Heat rose to your cheeks unbidden and you tried your best to keep your emotions in check. But unbeknownst to you, Spencer was a former FBI agent that specialized in such things, not to mention a certified genius. How cute. She’s blushing again. He also took note of the poorly hidden upturn of your lips. Why so shy? Just smile at me, sweetheart.

He gestured for you to walk ahead of him. “Ladies first.”

He followed behind you to the register, glad for the opportunity to check you out in more ways than one.

You placed the book on the counter, and Spencer resumed his position behind the register. He scanned the book and read out the price to you. Pay with a card. Pay with a card. Pay with a card. he chanted mentally.

Bingo. You pulled the piece of plastic from your wallet and handed it to him. He read the name as subtly as he could. You’d given him your first name, but a first name wouldn't be enough to find you online. He swiped your card and bagged your book, making sure to let his hand brush against yours as he handed the items to you.

“It was nice meeting you, Y/n. Do come again.”

“Oh, I will. Have a good day!” you said as you were leaving, giving him a small wave. The bell chimed as the door was opened again, and his eyes remained on your figure as he watched you through the large windows at the front of the store until you were out of sight.

With your full name now committed to memory, he planned on finding every trace of you online that he could as soon as he was home from work. He was no Penelope Garcia, but this wasn't something he particularly wanted the FBI involved in.

And so, for the rest of the day, his thoughts were consumed with only one thing: you.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader

112 notes · View notes

samodivaa · 10 months

Text

Deny the truth,set my world on fire (Part 4)

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Winter Soldier x Reader)

Part 1⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ Part 2⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ Part 3 ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆* ┗━━━ ━━━┛ He knew that she was having an affair...she denies, but the love marks on her body are still there. She can't tell him the truth, it will break him - the Winter Soldier is indeed inside of him, fucking her at night and Bucky doesn't remember. ┏━━━ ━━━┓ Quotes - Pushkin, Fyodor Tyutchev, Dostoyevsky └── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Warnings - heavy ANGST, some fluff Words - 3000

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Song ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆Eventually

Did i cry from my own fic? Yes? ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

4 years ago Bucky’s triggers words were present more than anything, anyone else in his life. Beneath the sheet of gleaming snow, his human-self slept for decades, frozen in time. And everywhere he goes, it follows him; the past is always spreading ashes of memories : all of Winter’s footprints are effaced by her love, the waves of fury are at peace – she is his homeland shores, grounding his soul like an anchor. „Ah, my last love! Thou art both bliss and pain. And joy - and hopelessness-“ Bucky moves to sit next to her on the couch, putting an arm around her and pulls her in close until his head rests on her shoulder. „Doll, what are you quoting?“ he squints his eyes, quotes always brush against the edge of his curiosity, before taking a peek at her book. „My last love; Fyodor Tyutchev“ she proclaims, hardly attempting to hide her growing smirk. „Am I your last love?“ He drawls, a bit of sarcasm touching his tone, but he feels the seed of doubt embed in his heart at his own words echoes in his head. She just giggles, looking at him with glittering eyes, not moving from her comfortable repose. „Of course, Bucky“ She smiles and nods, before turning her gaze to the book once again, rolling the paper sheet between her fingers and gazing at it thoughtfully. „Read me more, I want to hear more“ he mumbles after completing an impressive yawn. He adjusts his position to get more comfortable on the couch as she continues to read, with his head on her lap. His soul is a wounded dove, it has a painful, longing call. A flying bird about to fall, that was poisoned, festered with the past…and now Bucky is surrendering in her embrace, and quietly drinks the healing rays of poem; of poetry - drinking mouthfuls from this healing light, her light – finally seeing the world bright and complete. "It is amazing what one ray of sunshine can do for a man!” ― Dostoyevsky 3 years ago „Snow, frost and sunshine ... Lovely morning! Yet you, dear love, its magic scorning, Are still abed ... Awake my sweet!“ Suddenly her voice sounds in the nothing of the night. Though no louder than falling snow, it cuts across the emptiness, so shocking in the endless silence that the words seem craved into his mind, crackle of emotions infuses the void of his soul after the nightmare. „Winter morning, Pushkin. Why do you always read me that when I have nightmares, doll?“ he feels an oppressive weight settling over him. „Because after a raging snowstorm, a lovely morning always follows, Bucky“ „Yeah, because you are the sunshine in my mornings“ He burbles out a delirious giggle as sweat streams down his face. Having her in his life is a kiss-inspired dream, he needs to touch her to make sure she is real. With his shoulders squared and his body tenses from the unknown reality, his hand gently outstretches to her face. She responds by inching impossibly closer into his palm with sliver of softness in her eyes. She is real.

2 years ago Nature is an artist as it strokes swiftly a winter wonderland. But now, wretches, every drop of blood — don't stain the innocent snow. The scene is set, exquisitely divine — snow always pluck the vibrating strings of Bucky's mind, but her voice is enough to make his worries melt away. Sometimes they talk of the past where еre any roamed or died. They talk of old times when Winter only meant death and not Christmas chimes. There is no wind to speak of, more an icy winter chill outside; because If he wants to overcome the whole world, he needs to overcome himself so they go for a walk to the park, snow crunching beneath their feet. Their hearts are not connected to each other through mutual understanding alone. They are, instead, linked deeply through the wounds of his past — hanging by a string, loosely holding him from collapsing. And she knows when thoughts are tossing him around, bathing in his blood — so she chooses to speak.

„I still remember that amazing moment. When you appeared before my sight. As though a brief and fleeting omen, Pure phantom in enchanting light.“

„Doll, I really think that you love Pushkin more than me“ „I remember reading him for the first time, it was so romantic“ „You are telling me that meeting me was not romantic?“ „Sometimes I just imagine meeting you in a café, far away from here - I imagine that nothing bad has happened to you, Bucky. Sometimes I wish you didn’t remember the past.“ And this is what Bucky learns now: that her love is an antidote to his worries, always, that stands within this otherness of the world, of nature — the beauty and the mystery of the Winter season, out in the fields or deep inside their favorite books at home — both those activities, her ideas; are re-dignifying his worst-stung soul. He doesn’t need to fight darkness. Bring the light, and darkness will disappear, she is his light. She uses his moment of distraction to move away and makes a small ball of snow and throws it right at his nose. „I was thinki-“ Bucky shouts as he wipes the snow from his face. She has the audacity to laugh as he removes the snow, and he decides to chase her. Bucky easily tackles her into the snow, putting his arm around her to make sure she wouldn't get hurt in the fall, faces very close together. „Now, this is romantic, Bucky“ He nodes his head, speechless still. To heal is to touch with love that which was previously touched by Hydra.

Present „How are you holding, Buck?“ „I’ve lived too long with the pain, I won’t know who am I without it“ „You still quote stuff just like you did with her, Buck. Why don’t you talk to her, she is still recovering I talked with her today“ „She doesn’t remember anything, I want her to move on“ his inquisitiveness nearly outweighed his reluctance to talking to Sam about it, attempting to simmer the flames of the protective nature over her. „She might remember, she needs time, Buck-“ Sam pressures him with a challenging look that he more than gladly returns. Bucky considers the proposal and the fact that Sam is giving him a guarded expression that seems so hopeful, followed by a slight nod of his head before speaking.

„The time I spend at Wakanda, with Shiru- I’ve decided to go with the procedure. I can’t trust my mind unless they restart my bra-“ „You can’t-“ Bucky rises from the chair and is halfway to the door of Sam’s house when he turns and says „Enough, Sam, please“

Bucky has fond a peace in nature which was irreplaceable once; he steps outside looking at the colorful sunset. The sun is out, but he is cold, eyes are wild, but the mind is asleep, the world is alive, but Bucky has dead. Nature is love, nature reminds him of her, but he is aloof of everything that screams live for today — he died the moment he woke up to her laying in the white sheets. ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Flowers will grow back after he stepped on then and maybe in a less miserable times they may see each other again — all his grief says the same things „this is not how it’s supposed to be“ and the world laughs and holds at his hope by the throat „but this is how it is“ The final turn is that. Oh, how strongly grabs them, the secret plot of fate and everywhere he goes, it follows him; the past is always spreading ashes of memories: all of Bucky’s footprints of love are effaced by Winter, the waves of fury are not at peace – no longer is there a homeland shore, no longer someone grounds his lost soul like an anchor.

The sadness won’t last forever, he won’t be able to remember it and for the last time Bucky goes to sleep so he could see her in his dreams for the last time – she taught him everything except to how to live without her – the present feels like the past. It’s a fitting punishment for a monster to want something so much, to hold it in his arms and know beyond a doubt that he never deserved it, that he ruined it – his soul bleeds and the blood steadily, silently, disturbingly slowly shallows him whole – Bucky is too gone to be healed – he almost robbed her of her life. Now, she will carry the scars forever, but he selfishly remembers their love, there was love and it was theirs. Bucky was too deeply afraid to face her, that the moment their eyes meet and she finds herself staring at a stranger and he will realize that he has become a person she no longer recognizes – he stares at the poem she left for him, it makes him smile, because it reminded him of him and her; of what they used to do – James doesn’t want this to be the end of the chapter but it is – it’s the end of the line for love – nothing ever ends poetically he realizes end and his trust to poetry, it was not beautiful – it was just pain. He performs autopsies on their conversations long ago – he can to lie Sam, but he can’t lie to the hole deep inside – he lets himself cry, it’s better than feeling nothing at – wearing her shirt, because it’s still smells like her, but it will soon fade like his memories of her, of everything, erased forever. How can he live with a conscience that suffers whilst acknowledging his sin; with the memory of knowing she left this poem behind, thinking she would die from his own hands? ◤━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◥ I loved you; and perhaps I love you still, The flame, perhaps, is not extinguished; yet It burns so quietly within my soul, No longer should you feel distressed by it. Silently and hopelessly, I loved you, At times too jealous and at times too shy. God grant you find another who will love you As tenderly and truthfully as I. Your sincerely, your Doll ◣━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◢

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

„Excuse me for interrupting, but I just saw that you are reading `The Brothers Karamazov` and couldn’t resist coming to talk to you“ a calm voice cut through the silence. „Oh, I just wanted to reread it- you can sit with me“ She has a thoughtful look on her face, heart shattering into so many tiny fragments that it is hard to speak, it leaves her incredulously blinking when she sees his blue eyes eerily crystalline. She only heard about him in periodic whispers over the mouths, hearing about his recovery and adjustment to life all over again. She never intended to stay long, but she does because it is peaceful and she is not in a rush to leave, but his presence is overwhelming, feeling the presence of eternal harmony, fully achieved just like before. „I need to go for work, it was nice meeting you“ She senses that she should be following a different path, a path where their lines don’t cross. It is too much, she can barely breathes. There is a furious discontent from a moment, which verged on loathing; for her to have all of her memories and for him to be just a stranger taking interest in her book. This inexhaustible fantasy of them meeting again, of them reading books again – she needs to get out here of here, but then Bucky speaks and it’s impossible to smash the idea of them being together into splinters and turn it to dust – his eyes are the ocean, all flows and connects when their eyes meet. „Wait, can I get your number?“ he whispers from beside her, worry clear on his face at her sudden urge to go. He continues to stare intently into her eyes, waiting for their gazes to meet again and he feels his heartbeat speeding up. „Oh?“ Bucky almost chokes on the air as she turns around to face him, not responding with any words. She just furrows her eyebrows slightly. And it hurts so good that its Bucky’s own free unfettered choice to ask her, to come speak with her. „I want to buy you a book“ his blue eyes trail from her eyes, to her lips thinking about how gorgeous this girl is. She is not sure which is worse – the intense feeling of him being here, or the absence of his previous love for her. Maybe it will be worse if she doesn’t let herself be part of his new life. She is too afraid of giving herself to someone she might lose again, she is too afraid that Winter might come again. Her loyalty to his past, to keeping it a secret its want cost her the most and she needs to bare all of her sins all over again, to keep a secret. „You don’t want to take me on a date?“ she questions while watching him with an amused gaze. „Yeah, yeah – I want to do that, too“ he responses with uncertainty laced in his voice, trying to hide a nervous laugh between closed lips. “You will burn and you will burn out; you will be healed and come back again” „Is that a quote?“ he shrugged, looking startled. „Yeah, it’s from the book, James“ „How do you know my name?“ it is a tormenting thought that refuses to take shape, not even sure if he wants to know the explanation behind this. “I am a fool with a heart but no brains, and you are a fool with brains but no heart; and we’re both unhappy, and we both suffer” Her eyes get a little teary, but she's quick to put a lid on her emotions, it is overwhelming that he doesn’t remember any of her favorite quotes, of the quotes she used to tell him. „Where is that from?“ „Idiot“ „Excuse me?“ „The Idiot, Fyodor Dostoevsky“ she hesitatingly looks at him, he is already looking at her with those ocean blue orbits that hold so much kindness, curiosity, just as they used to. „Oh…that was clever, I will give you that“ he laughs to himself, shoulders shaking with humor. „And I will give you my number“ „Really?“ „No“ “We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken”

„That is from Crime and Punishment“ she purposely tries to add amusement to her voice, trying to appear as this has never happened before. She is frozen, words caught in her throat. „Yeah.“ He licks his bottom nervously. "O-okay, I will give you my number"

An invisible thread ties them together – the pull the drag deep inside beneath her skin, the heavy gravity of him. She loved him enough to spend forever waiting, no amount of time is ever enough and even one day if forever runs out, she will be fine, because it’s her decision waiting for Bucky, getting to love him all over again. To exist with him is her greatest privilege and pain – but he has settled into the depth of her soul because, she has found what she loves and it almost killed her – the thought of him forgetting her terrified her before, but it probably terrified him too before his mind was fully reset – she searches for quotes which remind her of them, but he probably did too. This time she is learning him slowly, taking her time; in no rush with her love – there are oceans in James’ eyes and when she looks at them, both emotions and memories hit me waves. Sometimes she wants to scream so loud that the ground trembles, there is so much fear and grief within her that she is decaying from the inside out and there is no one to help me but herself. She needs to stay silent, need to be here for him once again – she loved him and will love parts of him that are not easy to love, turning the pages gently and helping him re-write a happy ending to his narrative. She has loved none, but him and it cuts her soul a million times just to form a constellation to light his way home – angry and half in love with the new him and tremendously sorry for how it turned out for them – it’s not a metaphor, this ache, this fear of Winter all over – but all Bucky’s life was grey before meeting her one day at the café. He brushes up against pink and the barest touch and - the rest of his life is green again, green like Spring. He doesn’t know who he is and the cycle begins again – he pierces her soul ,she is half agony and half love – Bucky is too tangled there, finding his way back to her unknowingly.

And that’s how Bucky imagines it, meeting her all over again after his procedure - in a café, far away from here - he imagines that nothing bad has happened to her. Sometimes he wishes he was just Bucky, sometimes he wishes that the past has never happens - sorrow compresses his heart. His grief passes gradually into quiet tender joy of that daydream. Her memories never returned. Bucky’s memories were deleted successfully. They never met again. ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆Tag list⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ @dear-lolita @i-loveyoubutyourenotmine @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @montyrokz @sarah5462 @mooievis @almosttoopizza @midnightramyeoncravings @itsmadamehydra @ravenromanoff @beetlejuicesupremacy @queenashen @kandis-mom @whitexwolfxx310 @msoldier @venting402 @avery199 @pandabearrrrrrr @tilltheendofthelinepal13 @tokoyamisstuff @happinessinthebeing

“The most monstrous monster is the monster with noble feelings” ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Eternal Husband

#bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier x y/n #bucky x y/n #winter solider imagine #bucky imagine #heavy angst #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x f #bucky x you #bucky x female yn #bucky x f!reader

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shares-a-vest · 1 year

Text

had to write a Steve-centric Mother's Day thingy too. this one is sad like my Eddie one yesterday, but at least my boys are smiling by the end???

Mother's Day, 1998

Eddie tries not to watch from his prime position on the couch as Steve paces back and forward in the kitchen. He stops every now and then to linger by the phone mounted on the wall near the table.

Okay so maybe Eddie peers above his notebook once or twice and follows swiftly by looking down at Joanie, surrounded by a kaleidoscope of crayons as she colours at the coffee table. Steve sighs loud enough that the sound travels into the living room. Eddie listens as he punches in a number and walks off, presumably stretching the cord as far from earshot as possible.

"Shit," he curses.

"You swore," Joanie chimes, not looking up from her colouring book.

"I expect a freebie today, munchkin," he peeks out from his notebook to find Joanie glaring.

"...Fine," she agrees after a long pause.

He grumbles and scribbles out the most recent lines of his poem, the rhyming couplet suddenly feeling too saccharine for the general mood of today.

He should have known better, considering Steve emerged from the bedroom relatively late (for him) cradling his favourite sickly little furball Meatloaf like a baby - which he continued to do all morning. The poor thing is now teetering on the kitchen island, abandoned and desperate to get down.

Eddie hops up, rushing to the cat before he can get into too much trouble. Meatloaf whimpers, his meow more like a cry, regardless of whether his keeper has left him on his lonesome or not. He cringes at the sound. It's just so goddamn sad and certainly, a noise he could do without today especially.

He releases Meatloaf, now free to roam the apartment. But the scamp follows the phone cord stretching to the bedroom, his wobbly back legs catching and slipping every few steps as he hurries along, presumably on his way to get stuck under a piece of furniture.

Eddie makes a beeline back to the couch, not wanting to eavesdrop on Steve's phone call. He can hear murmuring, which he convinces himself is a good sign. At least Steve's mother actually picked up the phone this time.

Eddie tosses his notebook to the side, now uninterested in his tradition of writing a Mother's Day poem for his own mother. He chews at his nails, a fidgeting tactic to stop himself from twirling his hair. At least if he chews his nails, the worrying technique will be lost on Steve who won't be able to fixate on Eddie's feelings to distract himself.

"What going on?" Joanie wonders suspiciously, craning her neck to look down the hall.

"Uh…" he hums.

He really doesn't know how to answer. Mrs Harrington isn't exactly a frequent topic of conversation - if at all, for that matter.

"Is Dad calling Ganma?" Joanie's eyes light up at the enquiry.

If Eddie was feeling mean enough, he'd blame all of this on Dustin and Suzie. Traditionally they all spend Mother's Day doting over Claudia, aka, Joanie's precious Ganma (a toddler mispronunciation turned official familial title). But this year Dustin was far too busy with work to take time off, let alone a weekend plus a few days, so Claudia took it upon herself to travel to them. And, with Nancy and Robin back in Hawkins visiting Karen Wheeler, Eddie was left with Steve and Joanie in the city for Mother's Day weekend.

In hindsight, he should have called up Wayne to come for a fun-filled Pa-centric weekend instead.

Joanie walks over to the couch expecting an answer.

"Oh, uh. No, honey," he splutters, "Dad is calling his mom."

His daughter frowns, "Oh."

Yeah, kid. 'Oh' is an understatement.

Eddie pats the empty space next to him and Joanie reaches up with grabby hands, wanting uppies. He obliges.

Joanie fiddles with the buttons on the front of her unicorn-patterned onesie, lost in thought for a long while before cutting the silence with a heartbreaking, "He'll be happier when we call Ganma."

Eddie reaches for his notebook, deciding on writing his mom a verse about this blessing of a kid.

Steve soon comes back, hanging up the phone without a word and sets about making lunch. Eddie quickly scoops up Joanie and plops her on the floor to resume her colouring.

"Steve?" he asks tentatively as he practically tiptoes to the kitchen.

"What?" Steve snaps, tone biting.

He fusses with the twist tie at the top of their loaf of bread, not really committing to any of the sandwich-making efficiency he typically possesses.

"We could go out for lunch?" Eddie suggests, immediately regretting it.

"What, so we can see everyone celebrating Mother's Day? Even though my mom hates me? I shouldn't have done that... Idiot... Stupid."

Steve shakes his head.

"Sweetheart."

"I'm sorry," he whispers, voice throaty and strained, "Today is worse for you. I just set myself up to be upset."

He looks up, teary-eyed.

Eddie chops his hand through the air between them, insistent, "Completely difference circumstances, Stevie," he takes his hand and tugs, "Come sit down, I'll make us some lunch in a bit, yeah?"

They turn to exit the kitchen and are faced with Joanie, clutching her colouring book to her chest while Blondie and a surprisingly not lost Meatloaf circle her feet.

"Can we call Ganma now?"

Okay, so this kid is absolutely a precious little bean, a blessing who is the light of Eddie and Steve's lives in ways they can barely articulate sometimes.

But she often lacks the ability to read the room as she escorts her battalion of cats around the apartment.

Eddie could blame the sheer amount of time Joanie spends with Robin 'I Don't Have A Strong Grasp of Social Cues' Buckley, but he knows he is the exact goddamn same.

Steve pinches his nose before removing his glasses to rub at his eyes, "Yeah, baby, we can call Ganma."

He recovers enough to check his watch, needing to extend his arm almost fully to see it. Meanwhile, Eddie quickly shoos Joanie back to the living room as he picks up the phone.

They let Joanie take the reins, watching on from the couch as she excitedly recounts her week at preschool to Claudia (and she spoils the gift they had bought that is currently in transit while she's at it).

Eddie feels Steve sinks down in his seat and lean into his side.

"You wanna talk about it?" Eddie asks, trying to remain casual by doodling in the margins of his now-finished poem.

"Maybe later," Steve breathes heavily.

"We aren't doing this again, staying here. We'll at least see Wayne for the weekend."

Before Steve can argue, Joanie is waving the phone in Steve's face. He takes it and sniffles.

"Happy Mother's Day, Claudia," he says, clearing his throat, "I love you."

Whatever Claudia says in return, it's enough to make Steve smile.

more of this informal au HERE

#i'll get back to some nonsense soon i promise (and shorter stuff wtf is with my excessive word count atm)#whyyy do i feel guilty writing steddie as being saaaad 😭#steddie as girl-dads #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #trans eddie munson #steve harrington's parents #claudia henderson #claudia henderson 🐈

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blooming-violets · 4 days

Text

The Exhibit

[tasm!Peter Parker x fem!Reader]

Warnings: use of pet names such as Daddy/Princess/Babygirl, BDSM in the form of dom/sub, bondage/spanking/blindfolds/nipple clamps/a bit of masochism, anal play, exhibitionism/voyeurism

WC: 8K

A/N: This was an anon request for window smut off of this prompt list but tumblr said a big no no to (what I'm assuming) was one of the gifs I used for the graphic and hid the post so I had to delete it. I'm reposting it again minus the very bad so naughty terrible gif I used. Porn bots can run free and terrorize the tags with their tits and wide open pussy on display but how dare a smut writer use a tastefully erotic, black and white, gif of a blurry couple making sweet, sweet love against a far away window. So naughty. Such a bad girl.

The elevator chimed with a pleasant musical melody as the doors slid open to their floor. There were only four rooms in this hallway. Behind each door held a luxury suit overlooking the busy streets of Florence.

Peter had gone all out for their honeymoon.

They’d spent the last week in Sardinia, making love on the beaches, drinking wine, making love on sailboats, drinking more wine, making love in their hotel room in the early morning with the windows open to enjoy the breeze…more wine…more sex…

They were struggling to keep their hands off of each other. Even now, as Peter guided her towards their room, his hand was slipped under her vibrantly red sundress and fingering the elastic waist of her cotton underwear.

They left the beaches of Sardinia to come to Florence specifically to see the art but she wondered if they would ever actually make it out of their room with the way Peter’s hands teased her. She was surprised that he wasn’t sick of her yet. Seven straight days of love making and he was still as rowdy as ever.

He let her admire the suite, watching her as he leaned against the wall, more interested in eying her legs in that dress than the luxury accommodations he had provided for them.

“Peter,” she whispered, eyes wide as she took it all in. “This is gorgeous.”

Their beachside Sardina resort had a more airy and cool feel whereas this room screamed of sophistication and class. She knew Peter had been working like crazy leading up to their wedding but she had no idea this was why.

“Like it?” He asked with an arrogant smirk toying at his lips. “A room fit for a queen.”

She dropped her bag beside the bed and kicked off her shoes, flopping backwards onto the bed to stare up at the arched ceiling with thick, exposed wooden beams. Even the ceiling was stunning.

She felt the bed sink as Peter crawled on top of her.

His white, loose button up had the first few buttons undone so his athletic chest peeked through. She loved the sight of his chest hair being exposed. He looked so relaxed, laid back, and blissful with life. Filled with wine, good food, and love. The perfect blend of medicine for him to simply shine.

He placed a soft kiss against her lips, humming appreciatively, “You look sleepy, babe. Why don’t you take a nap while I unpack our things. I’ll be quiet as a mouse.”

A nap sounded wonderful after traveling between hotels. She rolled onto her side. It was warm enough that she didn’t need to snuggle under the covers. Peter ran his hands up her bare leg and slipped under her sundress to take one last squeeze of her ass before she slept.

She awoke to light kisses tickling her stomach. Peter was laid over her legs, her dress rolled up under her breasts so he could let his lips roam over her belly.

She stretched, a sleepy smile growing on her face, as she peered down at him.

“What time is it?” She mumbled through the lingering sleep.

“Time to wake up and play,” he said. He blew a raspberry on her belly with his mouth, making her laugh. “It’s about 4 in the afternoon. You slept all morning. I missed you too much to let you keep sleeping. Wake up and play with me. I’m bored.”

He had his shirt completely unbuttoned and was stripped down to his boxers to get more comfortable while he lounged around waiting for her.

Judging by the state of his hair, he looked like he might have gotten in an hour or so of sleep, too.

“Alright, alright,” she giggled. “I’m up. Let me go freshen up and then we can go explore the city.”

Peter pulled her up to her feet and gave her a quick spank as she walked off into the bathroom. That man always needed to have a hand on her ass in some way.

By the time she came back out, she was surprised to see that he had yet to get dressed and had actually lost an item of clothing.

His shirt was now thrown onto the bed, cast aside without a care.

“Underwear is a bold choice to go walking around Italy in but I admire your confidence,” she said with a teasing smile.

Peter didn’t smile back. He had a look in eyes. A look that she knew very well.

It wasn’t the “making love” look.

It wasn’t the “quickie” look.

It was dark, ravenous, and screaming of dominance.

He had yet to give her that look on their honeymoon. So far, he'd been more playful and loving. This evening, he had other plans.

They were not leaving this hotel room any time soon.

A shiver of excitement shook off whatever sleep might have still been clinging to her mind.

She blinked and he was pouncing on top of her.

Her back hit the wall but his hand slipped protectively behind her head before it slammed, instead, falling into the cushion of his palm.

Her breath exhaled from her lips at the force but, before she could catch it, he was attacking her lips with hungry, demanding kisses. His tongue pushed possessively into her mouth at the same time he slid a hand over her breast to fondle her over her dress.

Taking what was his.

“‘Can’t stand the sight of you in this dress.”

He moaned into her open mouth.

“Makes me want to rip it straight off your body.”

He grabbed at her breasts, aggressive and horny, rutting his hips against her.

“Do you know how hard it was not to fuck you while you slept?”

Her hair was being violently pulled, head crashing against the wall, her mouth falling open into a cry.

“Laying there, all innocent, legs spread open and begging for me to touch them.”

He clawed down her bare legs. Nails dragged against her skin. Feeling like she was getting attacked by a raging bear with the force of power behind each of his movements.

“Teasing me even in your sleep. A foxy, little minx, aren’t you?”

She shuddered, lowering her voice to a whisper, ready to play along, “I picked this dress just for you. I knew what it would do to you.”

He grabbed her wrists, slamming them above her head against the wall, and holding them in place. He let out a groan, grinding his stiff cock into her thigh.

“Daddy knew his babygirl was a little tease.”

A trickle of wetness soaked into her panties at the use of her favorite pet name for himself.

What had started out as a joke early in their relationship, quickly became a genuine kink to turn them on.

With that name on his lips, she could guess what kind of torture was held in store for her. It was going to be a dizzying whirlwind of fast, hard pleasure.

Peter’s voice lowered to a near growl.

“Pretty, little thing like you shouldn’t be traipsing around in a dress like that. You don’t know who might snatch you up.”

With both her wrists bound tightly in his one hand, he lifted her off the ground, dragging her up the wall, blatantly showing off his inhuman strength so she knew exactly what he could do to her if he wanted.

To him, she weighed nothing. This was a man who had stopped moving trucks with his bare hands and thrown cars around like a kid with a ball.

He let go and she dropped the few inches back to her feet with a surprised yelp.

“You’re lucky you have me to protect you. Daddy won’t let anything bad happen to his little princess, will he?”

She was shoved straight back against the wall, getting off on the feeling of being handled so roughly.

He nipped at her ear lobe, sucking it into mouth the sounds of her tumbling whimpers.

“Do you like to show off when you wear dresses like this? Do you like having men look at you? Do you like that they imaging fucking you when you walk by?”

“I only want you to fuck me. Only you,” she whined, trying to free her hands from the hold he had on her.

“Of course I’m the only who will ever fuck you, princess.”

He tugged her hand back down to flash her newly placed wedding ring in front of her face.

“That right there means that my cock is the only one that will ever split you open again. But that doesn’t mean others can’t look. People have eyes. They can see what I’ve got hanging off my arm.”

He brushed her hair away from her neck so he could lean down to graze his lips along her pulse points, murmuring against her heated skin as he continued to taunt her with his words.

“How do you expect anyone to keep their thoughts pure when you’re walking around in this?” He pulled at the bottom of her sundress. “You’re putting on a show for them, babygirl.”

“I didn’t mean to,” she cried. “It's hot out! I wanted to stay cool.”

Strong arms twisted her around so she was facing the wall, cheek shoved against the rough wallpaper. The force knocked the air from her lungs.

He bent both her arms behind her back and a strong, sticky substance shot out to bind them in place. She knew the feel of those webs well and a smile danced on her lips.

She loved being bound.

The pressure of being restrained was like a tiny slice of heaven.

“Daddy doesn’t like it when you show off, princess.”

He flipped up the back of her dress to palm at her rounded cheek, giving it a harsh slap to the sounds of her delicious yelp.

“Do you look at other men, too, when they’re looking at you? Do you imagine yourself with them?”

She gasped in horror at the thought, “Of course not! I would never!”

No other man could ever compare to her husband. Not even in the game they were playing. There was always only Peter.

He hummed like he disapproved of her answer, “Well…just to be certain...I think we need to make sure you can’t let those eyes wander.”

Something smooth slipped over her eyes, leaving her in the darkness, while he tied the blindfold tightly behind her head.

Leather.

She smelled leather.

She couldn’t remember them ever owning a leather blindfold before. It must have been something Peter picked up when they arrived here but she couldn’t recall a time when he left her sight.

She liked how heavy it felt against her eyelids. There was no way she could peek through this one.

“There,” he whispered. “Perfect. Blind to my advances. Lost in the dark. Never knowing when or where I will touch.”

He gripped her hips and spun her back around to face him.

A wave of dizziness over took her and she swayed on unsteady, bare feet.

“Careful, babe,” he whispered with a tenderness to his voice, breaking his haughty charade, and reaching out a hand to steady her. “I got you.”

Peter teased a finger under her chin, leaning down, to kiss her again. Soft and gentle, filled with the love and joy only a newly married man on his honeymoon could give.

A coil of tension spread throughout her stomach as she melted into him.

Her mouth opened to willingly accept his tongue past her worshiped lips to kiss him with all the passion she could muster with her hands bound behind her.

Peter’s own hands couldn’t stay still for long before they began to wander.

He squeezed her breasts through her dress, molding them to his palm, and rutting his hips into her.

She moaned, long and drawn out, leaning her head back against the wall so he could attach his lips to her neck. He sucked on her pulse points like a vampire draining blood and she wished he had fangs so she could feel the sting of pain as he sank into her flesh.

And then he was gone.

She stumbled forward, nearly losing her footing without him to push against.

Her head whipped around in the dark to try and find him through sound.

It was useless.

He was as silent as a spider.

“Look at the sight of you,” he chuckled, his voice dark and deep, dripping with desire. From the sound of his voice, he was across the room near the window.

“You have no idea what you look like right now, do you? Don’t fret, I’ll describe it for you.

He was moving. Pacing back and forth down the length of the room against the far wall.

“The strap of your dress is halfway down your arm. The nipple of your left tit keeps poking over the fabric, desperate to be sucked upon. Your hair is already a damn mess and I’ve barely touched it. Your mouth keeps parting like it’s just waiting for a cock to fill it up. A horny little thing, aren’t you?”

“Mmm,” she moaned, only getting more turned by his descriptions. “Peter. Come back. Touch me.”

“That’s not my name, princess,” he shot back.

His voice sounded different now, like he was up on the ceiling.

“Daddy,” she begged, craning her blind head upwards toward the sound. “Touch me, Daddy.”

He gave a quiet laugh, “Come get me then.”

He was back on the floor. In a different corner by the bed. Jumping around the room. Silent. With only his voice to guide her.

She took an unsteady step forward, blindfolded with her hands bound behind her. She didn’t know this hotel room very well. He knew that.

Which was why he kept moving. Teasing her. Making her work for his love.

She kept inching ahead, little by little.

“Tick tock, princess. Daddy doesn’t have all day.”

Behind her.

She gasped, whirling around, stumbling back the way she came only to find nothing but air.

With another step, her body bounced against the wall he had pinned her to and she staggered backwards.

She tried to spin back to the way she started but was getting all turned around.

He laughed at her pitiful efforts.

In front of her again.

Near the windows.

Or maybe the beds?

Was he at the door?

She was spinning in circles. Getting disoriented.

This wasn’t a fair game and she was getting frustrated. Her foot stomped angrily against the rug with a grumpy whine to accompany it.

“Is my poor princess getting dizzy?”

She had half the thought to plop herself onto the floor and stay there until he came to her.

But she didn’t want to lose the game.

She was too stubborn to give up.

“Watch out,” he warned. Still by the window. At least…she thought that was the direction she was facing. “If you move any more, you’ll run straight into the side of a table. Wouldn’t want my baby girl to get hurt.”

The table. She remembered where that was in the room.

He was by the windows. He was close.

Excitement tumbled around in her stomach as she tasted her nearing victory.

She shuffled to the left, feeling the table at her hip, and kept going towards the last place she heard his voice.

Blind and bound until she heard his soft breaths directly in front of her, thankful that he hadn’t moved again.

“Good girl, you made it,” he whispered. A soft kiss was placed on her lips as a prize. “As a special reward, Daddy’s going to take your dress off, okay, baby? He’ll be really gentle even though he wants to rip it to shreds.”

She felt him snake an arm around her waist to rip through the webs binding her wrists. She immediately went to reach for him but he slapped her hands away.

“Hands at your side or else I’ll spank you,” he ordered. “I’m taking my time. I’m in Florence. I’m here to admire the art. Don’t rush me.”

The zipper at her side slowly inched down until it rested at her hip.

His big, warm hands slipped under her straps, fingers scraping along her shoulder, as he pushed them down her arms. His head fell down to kiss her shoulder, dragging his lips across her heated skin.

Her breasts held the dress up but the moment he gave a light tug to the bottom, it yielded quickly and pooled around her ankles on the floor.

His shuddered breath told her that he was enjoying the view. Bare chested, nipples taut, and in nothing but her underwear and blindfold.

The underwear didn’t last long.

Peter slid them down straight after the dress until she was completely nude.

“More beautiful than The Birth of Venus. We should put you in a frame and have tourists come to gaze upon that instead. Maybe I should dangle you from the wall…all tied up with nowhere to go…I’ll start my own museum right here since you love to be such a tease. I’ll put you on display and have everyone see the kind of beauty I married.”

She was surprised to feel a wave of appreciative tears dampening her lashes. There was genuine love and admiration behind his words.

Married. They were married. Finally.

Her husband.

She loved that she got to call him that now.

Cool air breezed against her throbbing clitoris, halting the tears, to remind her how horny he had made her before she was chasing him around the room. She was too hot and eager to think about where that breeze was coming from. Drunk on her love for him. She bucked her hips to try and find some kind of friction for her to grind on.

She squeezed her thighs together, rubbing them back and forth.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Peter teased. “Need a hand?”

“Please,” she gasped.

“Hmm,” he pretended to think about it.

She wished she could see him.

She hated that he was so close but she couldn’t see exactly where.

“I don’t know. With the way you were strutting around in that dress, showing off to the boys, I don’t know if you deserve my touch. Maybe you deserve to be punished instead? What do you think?”

He didn’t wait for any answer.

Thwip!

Her left wrist was encased in a sticky, impenetrable substance and she jumped in surprise.

She was yanked forward until she felt the cool breeze against her bare chest.

The wind was softly blowing.

She could feel it rustling through her hair and dragging up the goosebumps along her flesh.

For the first time, she questioned exactly where in the room she was.

Why did it feel like outside when they were inside?

“Pete?” Her voice wavered. “What are you-”

Her arm was dragged out to her side and lifted high above her head as she gave a yelp of fright.

“Not my name, princess,” he chastised from up on the ceiling above her.

Thwip!

The same treatment was done to her right arm until she was bound, outstretched, and helpless.

Her fingers wrapped around the thick web, holding onto it for purchase, as her toes just barely scraped along the floor.

Peter chuckled to himself in amusement at her struggles, the sound coming from the ground behind her.

Always so damn silent.

“You look like a sexier version of Jesus on the crucifix. I want to drive nails through those dainty little hands of yours and listen as you cry out for mercy.”

If her eyes weren’t confined under heavy leather, she would have rolled them in response to his dirty talk.

“That sounds very appealing. Thank you,” her voice was dry and full of sarcasm, refusing to take him seriously.

Slap!

Her entire body jerked forward from the force of his blow against her ass.

Strong. Stinging.

Done with direct intention to cause pain.

Punishing her for the sarcasm.

She shrieked, mostly from the shock than the hurt, but immediately felt a trickle of wetness run down her thigh.

“Won’t you be a good girl and remind me of my favorite rule?”

His hand spread out over the stinging, hot skin of her cheek, giving her swift, hard pats to make sure the pain didn’t disappear too quickly as he spoke.

She shivered under his touch, “Don’t talk back to Daddy. Ever.”

“Good girl,” he cooed. “Next time use that pretty, little brain of yours and think before you speak.”

Her hair was tangled in his large hand as he shook her head back and forth to further his point.

“Otherwise, I’ll be forced to ball gag you.”

Fingers slipped between her thighs.

She parted her legs the best she could for him to get better access to her core.

A squelching of wet, soaked squishing sounds followed as two long fingers sunk inside of her.

A low, deep moan of approval rumbled out his throat at the sounds.

“You are absolutely drenched, my little whore. Something tells me you liked the pain. Maybe you were using that brain after all. Did you like it when Daddy spanks his naughty girl?”

Her tumbling whines followed as nimble, expert fingers stroked at her pussy, drowning out any worded response she might give.

Coaxing her to life.

Waking up all her senses.

She tried her best to hold her legs open for him despite feeling unsteady in her web binds. She wanted him to give her as much pleasure as he could and that meant letting him have easy access.

“Does my baby like the pain?” He asked again, running the hand not buried inside of her against her still stinging ass cheek. “Come on, I asked you a question, use your words, pretty girl.”

“Mmm, yes, Daddy. I like it. I like it!”

Smack!

She yelped, throwing her head back as waves of arousal washed over her. The pain from the spank mixed with the pleasure of his touch was enough for another gush of fluids to soak into his hand.

“Look at how hard your nipples have gotten,” he gave a dreamy sigh. “Oh wait, you can’t. My sweet, blind baby. All lost in the dark with nothing to look at.”

Her breathing was becoming ragged in her ears. Her body swayed against the webs.

Knowing hands wrapped around her stomach, leaving the warmth of her cunt, much to her displeasure.

They trailed upwards, through the valley of her breasts, until they gripped around her neck.

Her mouth opened in a silent gasp.

“Guess where I went today?” His voice was nothing more than a low, darkening whisper.

She couldn’t respond. His hand had tightened around her, softly squeezing, using a mere feather touch of his strength but still able to restrict her air flow.

“While my princess was napping, Daddy slipped out to buy you some presents. Found myself a little sex shop. You would have loved it,” he mused. “They had vending machines full of toys. Picked myself up a few fun gadgets to play with.”

He released his hand from around her neck, never wanting to hold her there for too long, and admired the way she gasped for breath.

Fingers tweaked at her nipples. He hadn’t been lying before, they really were rock hard. She could feel how tight they were from his rough menstruations.

She could hear him rummaging around behind her when something cold dragged across her breasts.

“Deep breath, princess.”

Following his warning, the cold, grooved metal clamped down over her left nipple.

She let out a genuine cry, her back arching from the pain.

It gripped her tighter than his teeth ever had, dragging her nipple out from her body, and squeezing down painfully hard.

The groves made it feel like little razors digging into her sensitive flesh.

Peter huffed out a laugh in a sadistic amusement at her reaction, “You know, when the woman running the store saw these come out of the vending machine, she looked over with a nod and said something like ‘molto doloroso’. Now, I don’t speak much Italian but I’m going to assume it translates to ‘Those hurt like a bitch and your pain whore of a wife will love them.’ Am I right?”

She choked out a sob, squirming uncomfortably against the webs, “Ow. It hurts…too much…hate ‘em.”

“Oh, don’t worry, there’s another one right here! It’ll help balance out the pain so both those beautiful tits get a turn.”

Another agonizing clamp bit down against her other nipple. The sharp, grooved metal felt like it might rip her nipple straight off her breast.

The nipple clamps they had at home were capped with a smooth rubber. These were bare and ready to grip on to her tender skin with the strength of a fucking bear trap.

She let out a full scream the moment it bit down, thrashing her body in an attempt to get away from the clamps. Crocodile tears rolled down her cheek from under the blindfold.

“Shh, shh, shh!”

A heavy hand cut off her cries by wrapping around her mouth. His breath was against her ear, hushing her, soothing her, running his lips over her forehead with quick kisses.

“Not so loud, baby,” he whispered. “You’ll draw a crowd with those cries.”

“What?” She gasped through heavy, pained breaths. “Crowds?”

Peter’s hands reached up to slide the blindfold up off her eyes and tossed it onto the floor.

He took a step to the side, watching her blink in confusion, as her tear blurred sight came back into focus.

She had forgotten about the breeze.

He had distracted her.

Kept her mind occupied so she wouldn’t ask questions.

She was tied up, stark naked, and splayed out directly in front of the arched floor to ceiling window overlooking the streets of Florence.

The top half of the glass was pushed open, letting in the cool evening summer breeze, and making sure nothing muffled the sounds of her screams.

And she had been screaming.

“Peter!” She cried in horror, paranoid that anyone could look up and see her. They weren’t that high up in the hotel. Any curious person who decided to glance upwards would certainly catch her out in all her glory.

Wack!

The sound of her sore ass being slapped filled her ears.

Nothing could hurt more than her breasts at the moment and she welcomed the familiar pain his hands brought.

She also couldn’t deny that growing, aching pressure happening between her legs. Her masochistic tendencies had yet to fail her.

“Not my name,” he scolded.

She whined, bouncing her leg against the floor in protest, and trying to tug at her bindings.

“Let me down!”

She knew full well that those webs would never give but it didn’t stop her from giving it a shot.

He leaned against the wall beside the open window, arms crossed, a prideful smirk sitting on his smug face, watching her struggle.

“I told you I was going to put you on display.”

She never thought he meant it literally.

Tears burned in her eyes at the wave of shame at being so exposed.

At least the shock helped to dull the pain in her breasts.

She scanned the tight streets below and was thankful to see that no one was stopped and staring.

Yet.

Her watchful eyes followed Peter as he pushed off from the wall and moved behind her.

Breath caught in her throat as his fingers found a home back inside of her drenched pussy.

“Still as wet as ever, I see,” he noted. “You can cry and beg and plead all you want but Daddy knows the truth. He sees behind your tears.”

Slick fingers circled around her aching clit.

Toying with it.

Teasing her.

“You like being held up on a pedestal.”

A long, skinny middle finger sunk inside of her.

Her head rolled back. Eyes closed.

“You like people hearing you cum.”

His thumb on her clit.

Brushing. Stroking.

Building her pleasure.

“You like having others watch as your Daddy pleasures his princess.”

In and out.

Slowly penetrating her with his finger.

Tending dutifully to that tiny bundle of nerves.

“You like the pain.”

He flicked at her nipple clamps.

Sending shots of pain throughout her breasts.

Electrifying her.

Soothing it over with those wonderful ministrations at her pussy.

“You love me and you’ll let me do anything I want to your gorgeous body…isn’t that right?”

She whimpered.

Eyes closed tight.

Feeling that build of orgasmic pleasure rising.

“I love you,” she breathed back, tears in her eyes. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

He practically purred in her ear.

Or maybe it was a growl.

Whatever it was, the noise caused her cunt to gush in reply.

He chucked, “That’s it baby, you’re so close. I can feel you tightening around my fingers. What do you say we give the people a show?”

He was gone.

Leaving her empty.

Dripping.

Pathetically whining and begging for a finish.

“Don’t worry, princess,” he called from the other end of the room. “Daddy bought some more toys. He’s going to treat his baby tonight.”

She listened to the zipping of a bag as he rustled through to find what he was looking for.

Her chest rose and fell in anticipation. Each breath brought back the dulling sting from her nipples. She tried to keep still, terrified more movement would draw attention upwards toward the window.

She gave a quiet shudder at the thought and tried to imagine what she would look like from down below.

The image brought a glint of a wicked smile to her lips.

Something small and chilly brushed against her back door and she yelped in surprise.

Slap!

“Hold still!” He scolded.

The sound of a bottle squirting caused her to try to careen her head around to see what he was doing behind her.

She managed to catch a glimpse of the butt plug he held in his hand.

It looked a bit bigger than the small one they used at home but had the same metal teardrop shape. A red jewel flattened out the end.

“Figured this was the next size up from your old friend. You leveled up from girlfriend to wife. Time to level up in other areas, too.”

Lube smeared over her tight hole as the cold, rounded point pushed against it.

Not even a warm up with his fingers first.

Peter really was in a dominant, pent up mood.

Her eyes slipped closed and her head fell back against her arched spine. She let out a deep breath, relaxing her body as much as she could, so it could slide in easier.

“Ah, ow,” she gasped, hissing in pain. “Oh, fuck.”

Slow and steady he sunk it into her.

He held it there, stopped in place, over the thickest part of the teardrop. Forcing her body to stretch to the foreign object.

She tried to control her whines from being too loud. Her thighs trembled under her. Her face contorted into pain and her jaw clenched.

More lube trickled down between her crack to help the little device along as Peter took note of her tensing body.

“There you go, baby,” he encouraged. “Nice and easy. Breathe through it.”

He teased it through her ass, pushing it in a little ways and pulling it back out, making her continue to take on the thickest part of the plug just to keep up to torture a bit longer.

“Please, Daddy,” she whimpered. “Just put it in. Please.”

“Aww, does my sweet baby need her ass filled? You’re Daddy’s little fuck toy. Daddy’s going to have any hole he wants. You have no say in where he ends up.”

He refused to move it past the diameter, holding it steady.

“Did you happen to catch the color of that tacky, little jewel they stuck on the end?”

He pulled it back out.

Teasing just the tip.

Exciting the bundle of sensory nerves around her anus and making her wriggle around.

“Spider-Man red. Just for you.”

Finally, he eased the entire thing inside of her.

“Ahhh!” She wailed. “Fuck!”

Filling her up.

Swallowing the plug.

Feeling it heavy inside of her.

“So you’ll always remember who owns this ass.”

Smack!

His hand came down hard against her bruising cheek.

Ecstasy coursed through her veins at the sting.

She was so full. Stretched and heavy. Uncomfortably aroused.

An arm snaked up her own outstretched one to brush his fingers over her wedding ring, lacing his fingers with hers.

His bare chest pressed against her back, grinding his hips over her ass.

His face fell against her neck, inhaling her scent, nuzzling his nose against her.

“My beautiful wife,” he breathed. “All tied up. Horny for her husband. Put out on display for all of Florence to see.”

Fingers wrapped around her waist to dip through her pubic hair, finding her heated crevice, needy for his touch.

Palming. Flicking. Penetrating.

“Nipples clamped. Ass filled. My name, cursed forever on your lips. All you need now is a cock to fill that empty cunt.”

He fished it from the confines of his boxers.

Dragging it along her soaked valley.

Feeling it pulsate against her waiting lips.

“No!” She gasped, staring down at the people below.

She knew once he started to fuck her she couldn’t keep quiet. Her voice would soar out the open window and onto the people below.

They would look.

They would see her.

“What if-” Her breath quickened. “What if someone looks up? They’ll hear me. They’ll look. I know they will.”

She didn’t need to see his face to know Peter had a cheshire cat grin growing. The sound of his voice was enough to hear his rising libido.

“Then they’ll see a little princess fucking herself on her Daddy’s cock.”

The bulbous head of his thick rod pressed between her folds.

Sinking in.

Stretching her out.

He hesitated there. Stilling behind her.

“Go on, baby. Fuck yourself. Let everyone see what a whore you can be.”

She almost didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to give in. She could play games, too.

Her breath held in her lungs. Closing her eyes. Biting down on her bottom lip.

Peter waited.

The crown of his manhood nestled patiently in her pussy, being squeezed by her heated walls, kissed by her slick.

Letting her throw her silent tantrum.

She hung there, counting the seconds, fighting the urge to move, trying to breathe through her body’s desires.

Her legs were trembling. Her toes ached from holding her weight.

It would be so easy to just…ease back…impale herself on his sword…give up.

She could hear his labored breaths behind her. Smelled his cologne. Felt him twitching inside of her.

“Close the windows,” she struggled to whimper out through her held breaths. “Let’s go to the bed. Take me there. Fuck me there. I’ll let you do anything you want. Just…not…not in front of the window.”

Peter tutted his tongue, “Since when has Daddy ever let you make the demands, hmm?”

He reached his hands up to her shoulders and gave a gentle push, getting tired of her defiance, “When I tell you to fuck yourself, you fuck yourself. I’m not going to do it for you.”

Even the smallest of shoves from her shoulders was enough for her tiptoed feet to give out. She stumbled back, feeling his cock sink deeper.

She let out a strangled cry.

“No! On the bed. Bring to me to the bed!”

Her eyes were squeezed shut, refusing to see the window in front of them, torn between finding it extremely arousing and positively mortifying.

“I’m sorry, princess. The bed is for good girls. The bed is for well behaved women who don’t wear little dresses and shake their ass as they walk for all the men to stare at. The bed is for lovers.” His hand gripped around her hair and shoved her face towards the window. “The window is for whores who get off on pain and love the attention their Daddy gives them.”

His voice lowered into a commanding, deep tone, “Open your fucking eyes and look at your audience.”

She blinked through the flow of overly emotional tears clinging to her lashes and forced her eyes open.

People lined the tight, winding streets, walking lazily to their destination. Not one glanced up at them. Not one seemed to notice her out on display, front and center, above their heads. Peter was protected behind her body. She would be the one they see.

Framed by the window.

Art.

That’s what he called her earlier.

She was art and Peter, the artist.

Helpless to whatever ways he wanted to exhibit her

Little by little she sunk back onto his cock. Taking him into her. Eyes rolling back. Submitting to his demands until he bottomed out.

His chorus of pleased moans let her know he had won.

She let her body get used to him inside of her. Her pussy knew his cock well by now but she liked to reacquaint them carefully every time they would meet.

Peter was always a bit of a stretch.

With the girthier plug shoved in her ass, her arms bound and outstretched, and her nipples screaming in pain, she felt the need to move a little slower with her pussy today.

Gradual, small movements, easing herself up off his cock and then impaling herself back down.

Slow and steady.

She shifted on her toes, rocking her hips back and forth, taking him with longer and longer strides as her shameful whimpers grew into desperate cries.

“There you go,” he murmured, brushing her hair back off her shoulder to nip at her skin with his teeth. “Ride Daddy’s cock, babygirl. Show everyone how good you can take it.”

Her own slick coated his shaft, making it slip through her without resistance.

He stayed fairly still behind her apart from making sure his hips were pressed forward enough for her to have easy access to his body.

She was getting into a rhythm. Starting to get lost in the feelings.

But, the harder she fucked herself, the more her breasts would sway.

The more they moved, the more pain the clamps created as they bit down like they might cut clean through her flesh.

It was getting to the point where it might be too much pain for her to enjoy and ruining her momentum on his cock.

She hissed, biting down on her lip, trying to endure it the best she could manage.

Peter shifted behind her, bringing his lips to her ear, and whispering for reassurance, “Color?”

She swallowed, trying to decide exactly what she was feeling, “G-green?”

He stilled her by gripping onto her hips, keeping himself buried inside her warmth, but moving his head around in an attempt to better see her face.

“You sure? You don’t sound sure.”

She nodded, breathing heavily, “Almost yellow. Not quite though. But almost.”

“Which part?” He trailed loving kisses of safety along her neck, wrapping his arms around her waist to hug her sweetly from behind.

“The clamps.” When she saw his hands immediately move to take them off her, she hurried to add. “Not yet! I…still like them…but soon, okay?”

“Soon,” he agreed, giving her one more adoration infused kiss to her cheek, before slipping back into character. “Daddy never told his little princess to stop, did he?”

To shove her back into the role, he slapped her ass with three hard, lashing blows of his open palm.

Each slap caused her breasts to bounce, sending shooting shocks of pure, agonizing pain through her body and a rush of warmth to her cunt.

Pain and pleasure. Her favorite combination.

“Looks like the sweet little angel is getting quite the bruise back here. If you keep misbehaving, you won’t be able to sit down for our breakfast tomorrow. Then everyone will know what a bad, little whore you’ve been.”

She whined in response, bucking her hips backwards to find his cock again, needing more pleasure to balance out the scales.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you?”

He soothed his hands over her shoulders, pushing her down, sinking her onto his length.

“My pain hungry baby.”

It wasn’t difficult to fall back into her previous rhythm. Her cunt was soaked and starving for its lover to come back home.

“Fuck yourself on Daddy’s cock. Let those people down there know how much you love me. Be louder, princess. I want them to hear.”

She whimpered out a tiny cry.

Her motions grew frantic the more he continued to talk dirty in her ear.

That tiny cry grew into loud, unadulterated, guttural moans.

The sounds of a whore taking her favorite cock.

She struggled against the webs binding her. Her shoulders were starting to ache. Her arms were losing feeling.

Her body was stretched tight. Nipples crying. Ass sore. The weight of the plug was even more noticeable with his cock pushing in and out of her.

It felt like it was bouncing inside of her each time he pushed under it.

Her toes hurt from being hung up on such an unsteady height.

“Peter- Daddy,” she gasped. “Daddy, please…”

She didn’t know what she was asking for.

Some kind of relief.

Something steadier. Something more concrete.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay, Daddy’s got you.”

He reached around to her chest with both hands, simultaneously unclamping her nipples from their prison.

Fire erupted in its place as the blood rushed back.

A new kind of pain bloomed.

Searing and hot.

Her breasts were in flames.

She cried out. Loud and sharp.

At the same moment, Peter ripped her down from the webs, still embedded on his cock as he wrapped her up in tight arms and pushed her flat against the window.

Her hips pressed against the cool glass but her torso nearly bent out the opening.

Her anguished nipples happily sought out the cool breeze. Soothing over the sting. Settling her inflamed body. Not caring who looked up.

Peter gripped onto her hips so he could better ram into her. Her job was over. She had done what he wanted.

Now it was his turn to take over.

Her body surrendered to him.

“Ugnnn,” she whined. “Fuck!!”

Her hands clenched into fists against the glass. Her back arched.

Eyes wide.

Taking his thrusts with near drooling moans.

His rigid shaft drove into her, surging deep up inside, stretching her walls and drawing out the most luscious rumbles of pleasure.

His balls slapped up against her. The sound echoing around their vaulted ceiling.

Filling her. Stuffing her full.

Both holes used and defiled.

She couldn’t stop the noises she was making. Throaty moans, shrieking cries, babbling coos.

He was getting it all out of her.

Someone was watching. Looking at them. Spying them from down below.

A young couple.

“Daddy!” She sobbed. “They’re-”

“Shh,” he hushed her. “I know, baby. I see ‘em, too. They like what they see. They’re talkin’ about us. Enjoyin’ it.”

A broken cry fell from her lips and she stared down through her tears at the couple.

Her eye sight wasn’t the greatest. She couldn’t make out their faces very clearly but neither of them looked horrified.

They looked…giggly…

The woman was running her hand along her partner's arm. His hand disappeared behind her back and traveled down to her ass.

Harder and harder Peter slammed.

She was being ravaged by his strength. Losing the ability to make any noise.

Nothing but silent, open mouthed gasps and a raining of tears were all that came out.

“Too-” He grunted, crashing into her again. “Hard?”

Through a shuddering, gasping breath, she managed to choke out, “Don’t you fucking stop.”

As long as Peter was fucking her like this, he could do it any way he wanted. He could drag her out onto the streets and fuck her at that nosy couples feet if he pleased.

It was his art show. He held the control.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. Didn’t pause.

His finger marks would be bruised into the soft flesh of her hips for the upcoming days with how tightly he gripped them.

She held eye contact with the watching woman down below. Stared straight at her. Sizing her up, silently challenging her to get as good a fuck from her partner as she was from Peter.

She wanted to make her jealous. Or horny.

Either was fine as long as the woman was thinking of her.

“Yes, Daddy!” She cried, loud enough for her voice to carry down below. “Feels so good! Making your little girl feel so good!”

She knew damn well Peter’s face was cast in the shadows behind her. The idea of this couple truely thinking she was being fucked by her own father made her laugh under her breath.

“Somethin’ funny, princess?” His voice was getting strained and she knew that meant he was getting closer to his release.

“Just enjoying my fans,” she gasped back. “They love what you’re doing.”

Her eyes were wild as she breathed in the fresh air.

She felt free.

She was married and in love. They were on their honeymoon in Italy.

She was getting absolutely pounded by her husband in full view of a watching, interested couple.

She should be embarrassed, ashamed.

But all she felt was bliss.

That plunging, relentless cock, massaging her channel, thick veins grazing over that tender g-spot whenever she angled her body correctly, the weight of the plug in her ass, her aching nipples…

Everything was pushing her straight towards her final hurdle.

Without much warning, it suddenly became all too much. No build up.

Just explosions.

A wave of ferocious, intense pleasure roared over her, sweeping her up, taking her by surprise.

She came hard and fast.

Sheiking. Crying out.

Thrashing against the window, leaning half way out of it, trying to gasp for air.

Peter grabbed at her hair to yank her back inside like he was terrified of losing her over the edge.

“Fuck, princess,” he grunted. “Where ya goin’?”

Her ears defended under the rush of blood swelling to her head but she was certain she was screaming in ecstasy from the way Peter’s hand clamped over her mouth to muffle her sounds.

She contracted tightly around his cock, squeezing him, using him to further her explosion of pleasure, still feeling the stinging pain of her breasts to only shove her deeper into subspace.

On and on her orgasm went. Unstoppable. As Peter kept driving into her and furiously rubbing his fingers over her clit.

He kept her heightened. Overloaded. Knowing that it would destroy her.

She had the brief sensation of feeling him cumming inside of her. Feeling the spurt of warmth. Feeling full.

But her agonizing long orgasm only served to weaken her rational thinking. She no longer existed. She was no longer on solid ground.

Floating. Drifting through space.

Lost amongst the stars.

Finally, her body gave up.

Finally, the orgasm came to a simmering hault.

She was done.

She hung limply against the window pane. Eyes rolling in her head. Twitching and whimpering.

Peter scooped her into his protective arms, cradling her against his chest, peering his face to see their onlookers.

“Shows over!” He called down to them. “Fuck off!”

Without his raging, pent up, sexual energy to seize control of his brain, he no longer liked the idea of anyone getting to view his naked wife besides him. His protective nature spiked to replace his dwindling arousal and he turned his back to the window to shield her with his body.

He carried her away from their stares back into the safety of privacy where she belonged.

She made no protests or struggles as their game finished. Her head hung limp against his shoulder.

“My sweet girl,” he murmured in her ear. She was being placed on their bed. “Daddy’s going to clean you up. Wait here.”

Time wasn’t real.

She blinked and he reappeared holding a warm, wet cloth to her legs.

Over her thighs.

Spreading her open.

Cupping it against her used and battered sex.

Gently cleaning away their mess.

“There,” he whispered. “All better.”

Peter crawled into bed in front of her, wrapping an arm over her waist and kissing at the tip of her nose.

Gradually, she returned to her body, her mind drifting slowly back into her skull.

“Mmmm,” she groaned. “Everything hurts. Think you broke me.”

He chuckled to himself, soothing a hand over an abused nipple, “Sweet girl. I’ll try to find you some ice in a minute. But, right now, I’m not leaving your side until you fully wake up. Rest, baby. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

When she adjusted herself on the bed, sliding a leg through his, she took note of the fact that the plug was still snuggly lodged inside of her.

Their night was only just beginning.

He had left it there on purpose.

She kind of liked it.

Maybe she would wear it out to dinner…

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