CAN WE ALL JUST TAKE A MOMENT TO REMEMBER THIS PLEASE??!!!
TARAAAAAHHHH
like, omgg. she practically tells us shes gonna fuck tara after the show. unf. woww. i cant. the fan didnt even bring her up either. tara on the brain much. lololol. & omgg, gaga has given tara so much stage time now. shes been in her vmas & itunes performances. yasssss. more, i want more.
for anon! <3 i can't believe it took me this long to write for the countess omg
word count: 6k
You were supposed to be balancing her accounts, not losing yourself beneath her hands. The Countess, as ever, has a way of rewriting the terms of any arrangement. When her control slips, it's only to take yours instead.
Read on AO3
𝑽𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑽𝒊𝒄𝒆
The first thing you noticed was the silence. Not an empty silence, but the kind that breathed. As if the walls themselves were listening.
The Hotel Cortez loomed like an artefact of another century, all luxury and shadow. Inside, the air smelled faintly of polished brass, rose perfume, and something older. Dust, maybe, or secrets. The light dripped down from chandeliers like molten gold, pooling across marble floors veined with red. Every inch felt deliberate, decadent, almost devotional.
You stepped with your small bag over the threshold, and the door shut behind you with a sigh, heavy and final.
At the front desk, no one waited to greet you. The counter gleamed. Dark wood, carved edges, the kind of craftsmanship no one bothered with anymore. There was a bell, but when you pressed it, the sound seemed to vanish before it could echo.
“Hello?” Your voice felt swallowed by the space.
You waited. Nothing.
It was fine. You had worked in hotels before. Not like this one, obviously, but muscle memory steadied you. You slipped behind the counter, into the back room. It smelled faintly of old paper, lilies, and iron. Someone had been here recently; a glass of red wine sat half-drunk on the desk.
You set your bag down carefully, straightened your blouse, and stepped back out to the front desk.
The lobby was still empty, but it didn’t feel empty. There was a charge in the air, faint and electric, like static before a storm. You told yourself it was just nerves, the echo of your footsteps too loud in a place too big for one person.
You glanced up at the grand staircase curving into the shadows above, at the gold elevator doors, at the mirror behind the desk that caught the lobby from a dozen angles. For a heartbeat, you thought you saw someone reflected there. A flash of silk, a pale hand, the gleam of a diamond.
When you turned, there was no one.
Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling you had already been noticed.
You smoothed your blouse. Black, simple, a touch of lace traced the collar and sleeves like ivy. It was the kind of thing that felt both professional and a little indulgent, something you had bought on a whim and never had reason to wear until now. Your trousers were dark too, pressed sharp; a crimson bracelet circled your wrist, worn that morning for luck. The colour caught the light when you moved, a pulse of red against all the black.
The air in the lobby felt heavier now. You couldn’t tell if it was the heat from the lights or just the atmosphere pressing in. The stillness had a texture to it, thick and velvety. When you breathed in, it coated your tongue. Wine, old perfume, metal, and something sweet you couldn’t name.
You stood behind the desk, waiting for a guest, a manager, someone. But the longer you stood there, the more the world seemed to tilt, soft around the edges.
There was a rhythm to the hotel, subtle but persistent. The faint hum of electricity through the walls, the creak of wood settling, the whisper of the chandelier crystals shifting in some unseen breeze. It felt… hypnotic. Like the building was breathing in time with you.
You trailed your fingers along the polished counter, half expecting to find dust, but it was spotless. Someone cared for this place. Someone meticulous, exacting. The kind of person who left no trace unless they wanted to.
You blinked. The light changed. For a moment, you weren’t sure how long you had been standing there. A few minutes, maybe longer. The second hand on the clock above the elevator hadn’t moved, or maybe you had just forgotten to look.
Your pulse fluttered. The silence deepened.
You could feel eyes on you now, not the vague sense of being watched, but the intimate weight of a gaze that lingered. It felt like a hand at the base of your throat, a whisper too close to your ear.
You turned toward the staircase.
At first, you saw only the slow gleam of silk descending, white against the darkness. Then you saw her.
She appeared like a trick of the light. At first, just the shimmer of white silk on the stairs, the curve of a shoulder, the glint of a jewel that flashed like a heartbeat. Then the rest of her took shape, slow and deliberate, as though the hotel itself was revealing her one piece at a time.
You forgot, for a moment, how to stand. How to breathe.
Every inch of her was deliberate; the way she moved without seeming to touch the ground, the way the shadows clung to her as if jealous of her light. She was dressed like something out of a dream. Satin, diamonds, blood-red lips. It wasn’t just beauty; it was presence—the kind that didn’t ask for attention, it commanded it.
You tried to place her. A guest? A performer? Some kind of celebrity? But that didn’t feel right. She was too anchored in the space, like she had always been there.
The chandelier above flickered as she passed beneath it. You swore the air temperature changed. Warmer, thicker, as if pulled toward her.
You had seen beautiful people before, but this was different. This was gravity.
The thought drifted through your head that maybe you shouldn’t have been looking at her for this long, that maybe this kind of beauty wasn’t meant to be looked at directly. Like staring into the sun, or into something sacred.
And yet you couldn’t stop.
Your pulse hammered unevenly; you swallowed against a throat gone dry. She looked at you, really looked, and the rest of the room disappeared. The chandeliers, the lobby, the quiet ticking of the clock, all of it slid into the background until there was only her and the sharp, dizzy clarity of her gaze.
You felt seen, utterly and impossibly, as though she had already decided something about you that you hadn’t yet learned yourself.
For a heartbeat, you forgot your name.
And when you remembered it, it felt smaller than it had before.
She kept descending, unhurried. Each step was a performance, quiet but deliberate—the whisper of silk trailing over carpet, the soft pad of her heels echoing in perfect time with your pulse.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she didn’t speak right away. She let the silence stretch, studying you in a way that made the air feel too thin. Her eyes lingered on the line of your throat, the lace of your blouse, the bracelet of red at your wrist.
Then, she smiled. It was small, almost gentle, but it felt like something sharp pressed just beneath the skin.
“You must be the new hire.”
Her voice was low, smooth, and touched with an accent you couldn’t quite place. A sound meant to be listened to, not just heard.
You blinked, caught halfway between answering and staring. “Yes, I—sorry, I didn’t realise anyone was here. There wasn’t anyone at the desk when I came in.”
She tilted her head, amused. “There rarely is. The Cortez keeps its own hours.”
Something about the way she said it made you shiver.
She drifted closer, her perfume reaching you first. Something floral layered over iron and wine. Her hand brushed the desk as she passed, leaving the faintest trail of fingerprints against the polished wood.
“Has no one shown you around?” she asked.
You shook your head. “Not yet. I just got here.”
She hummed, a soft, thoughtful sound. “How careless of them.”
Her gaze flicked toward the staircase and back to you. “I suppose I’ll have to make up for their absence. It wouldn’t do to leave you wandering the halls alone. The hotel has… a way of getting under people’s skin.”
You weren’t sure if she was joking.
When she extended her hand—elegant, pale, jewelled—it wasn’t exactly an offer; it was an invitation phrased like a command.
“Come,” she said. “Let me show you the ropes.”
Her smile deepened, just enough to let you know she already understood the effect she was having.
She led you into the back room, her heels a soft rhythm on the marble behind the desk. You followed automatically, unable to do anything else.
The air back there felt different, less perfumed and more real. A narrow office lined with old ledgers and thick stacks of stationery, the faint hum of a typewriter resting idle. She gestured to the shelves and drawers, explaining which forms were for guest check-ins, which keys belonged to which suites. Her words were smooth, unhurried, but her gaze kept returning to you, tracking every small movement you made.
You tried to listen. Really, you did, but it was difficult when she stood so close you could feel the pulse of her body through the thin air between you.
“And here,” she said, gesturing to a small cabinet, “you’ll find anything you need for the guests. Spare room keys, reservation cards, a ledger for requests…”
Her hand lingered on the cabinet handle, the diamond on her finger catching the light. “Most of our guests require… discretion.” Her eyes flicked to yours, and you couldn’t tell whether it was a warning or an invitation.
You nodded, your throat suddenly dry. “Of course.”
She smiled, slow and approving. “I thought you might understand.”
You caught yourself staring at her mouth as she spoke, and when her gaze dipped briefly to notice, you looked away too late. Her laugh was quiet, indulgent.
“Tell me,” she said, stepping closer, “is this your first time working in a place like this?”
You forced a small smile. “A hotel? No. One like this? Definitely.”
Her lips curved upward. “Mmm. It has a way of leaving an impression.”
She reached past you for a folder on the desk, close enough that the silk of her sleeve brushed your arm. The scent of her perfume curled around you again, heady and expensive, and the contact sent a pulse through you that you hoped she didn’t notice.
But she did. Of course she did.
Her voice softened. “You’re nervous.”
You started to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come.
“Don’t be,” she murmured. “You’ll find the Cortez very… welcoming, once it decides you belong.”
There was something in the way she said belong that made your pulse trip.
And then, as if she hadn’t just pulled the air out of the room, she stepped back with practised grace. “That should cover the basics for tonight. You learned quickly, I can tell.”
Her smile returned, poised and polite, yet edged with something knowing. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing more of you.”
It sounded like a promise.
You lingered behind the desk long after she had glided away, eyes following the sway of her silk gown as she disappeared down the corridor. Every step she took seemed to echo in your mind, lingering like a whisper you couldn’t shake. Your pulse was still erratic, your breath a little shallower than it should have been, and you realised with a jolt that you had been unconsciously twisting your bracelet at your wrist, drawing it tighter around your skin.
Shaking your head, you turned to face the small pile of check-ins that had accumulated. Your hands moved automatically, scanning names, confirming reservations, and offering polite greetings. Some guests were ordinary. Tired business travellers, a couple clutching their bags, murmuring apologies for arriving late. Others were… stranger. A man whose eyes were too dark, a woman whose laugh lingered a beat too long, a family with children that stared at the walls as if expecting them to breathe.
Still, by the third check-in, you found a rhythm. The lobby, with its gold-veined marble and high ceilings, no longer felt quite so overwhelming. The hum of the hotel, once hypnotic, now felt like a pulse you could work with, not against. You even managed a small smile for a particularly frazzled guest who couldn’t seem to find their room key.
But your mind kept drifting back. Her.
Every detail you could remember. The curve of her neck, the shimmer of her diamonds, the way her gaze lingered on you replayed in your head. Hot and vivid. You tried to focus on the ledger, on the minor frustrations of guest requests, but a part of you couldn’t stop watching the hall, imagining her returning at any moment.
Hours passed, and the lobby thinned. The strange, tense energy of the early evening relaxed into the rhythm of night. You felt a small swell of pride at managing the desk on your own.
Then, almost imperceptibly, the air shifted. You sensed her presence before you saw her, a ripple through the stillness, a whisper of perfume that made your chest tighten.
She stepped into view, and your breath caught.
Her outfit had changed. The dress was darker, clinging a little more to her form, subtle slits and lace detailing that accentuated her long lines. She moved with the same effortless grace, but there was a playfulness to her now, a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.
“Ah,” she said, tilting her head, “I realised I never introduced myself properly.”
You blinked, trying to take it all in. “Oh–yes, of course…”
She stepped closer, letting her gaze roam over you briefly before meeting your eyes again. “I’m Elizabeth,” she said, her voice low and smooth. “The Countess of this establishment, if you will.”
You nodded, feeling the word Countess like silk draped over your shoulders.
“And you,” she continued, leaning just enough to close the space between you, “are settling in nicely, aren’t you? Tell me… how are you finding it? The lobby, the guests… me?”
Her smile was slow, teasing, and her fingers brushed lightly against a stack of registration forms as she spoke, more gesture than contact, but it sent a ripple of awareness down your spine.
You cleared your throat, forcing your hands to stay on the counter. “I… I think I’m finding it easier than I expected,” you managed, your voice a little higher than normal. “The lobby, the guests. Everything.”
She tilted her head, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Everything?” she murmured, her lips curving knowingly. “And me?”
Your heart hammered, and you glanced up at her, cheeks warming. “Especially… you,” you admitted before you could stop yourself, and the words hung in the air between you.
She let out a soft, approving hum, leaning just slightly closer as if to reward your honesty. “Good,” she purred. “I do like a person who reacts honestly.”
She stepped behind the desk with you, her presence immediately compressing the space. You could feel the warmth radiating from her as she moved closer, hands brushing over the surfaces you had just organised. Every movement was deliberate, yet casual, as if she were merely “showing” you something.
“Over here,” she murmured, gesturing to a drawer. Her fingers lingered over the handle longer than necessary, close enough that the backs of your hands almost touched. “This is where we keep the room keys for late arrivals. You’ll want to memorise that order, it makes things easier.”
You nodded, swallowing hard. “Right. Easier.”
She hummed, tilting her head, letting her hair brush the side of her cheek. “You’re so attentive,” she murmured, almost like a private thought. Her eyes roamed over you, sharp and playful. “Do you always notice such details?”
You shook your head, flushed and unable to stop the quick intake of breath that her gaze seemed to demand. “I try.”
Her lips curled, slow and teasing. “Mmm. I like someone who tries. Someone aware.”
She reached past you again, lifting a small stack of guest forms from the counter. Her hand grazed yours. Brief and fleeting, but enough to make a pulse race down your arm. You stepped back slightly, though not entirely, caught in that magnetic tension she radiated.
“Do you ever… get nervous?” she asked softly, leaning closer so her perfume washed over you. “When people are watching, or when someone beautiful is right in front of you?”
You blinked, flustered. “Sometimes,” you admitted, and the honesty felt heavy in the air.
“Good,” she murmured approvingly, a slow smile playing on her lips. “I prefer honesty. It makes things more interesting.”
She leaned a little closer, her hand resting lightly on the corner of the desk near yours, close enough that the chill of her body brushed your arm. The scent of her perfume thickened, sweet and intoxicating, and your pulse jumped.
“You know,” she murmured, tilting her head so her hair brushed your shoulder, “most people here… they don’t notice much. But you, you pay attention.” Her lips curved in a faint, teasing smile. “That’s very appealing.”
You swallowed, your stomach tightening. “I… I just want to do it right,” you managed, your voice softer than you intended.
She hummed, that low, approving sound, and reached past you to pick up a ledger. Her hand grazed yours again, this time longer and deliberate, and the contact sent a shiver up your arm. You couldn’t help but glance at her face, catching the hint of amusement in her eyes.
“You’re flustered,” she observed lightly, leaning just enough closer that her perfume wrapped around you completely. “Do you always get this affected?”
You bit your lips, trying to keep your composure. “I… not usually,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Good,” she purred. Her gaze sharpened, glinting with something both playful and predatory. “It’s interesting, seeing someone so alive.”
Her hand drifted along the edge of the counter, stopping just inches from yours. Your fingers twitched, wanting to bridge the gap. She noticed, of course. She always noticed.
“And tell me,” she continued, voice low, teasing. “Do you like being watched?”
The words hung in the air like a spark, and you felt your chest tighten. You nodded, almost involuntarily, and the faintest blush crept across your cheeks.
Her lips curved into a slow, mesmerising smile, as if savouring the reaction she had drawn out of you. “Mmm. Good.”
She leaned just slightly closer, so close you could feel the absence of warmth radiating off her. The angle was casual, professional, but the tension in the air was undeniable.
“You’re going to fit in very nicely here,” she whispered, her breath just faintly brushing your ear. “And I do so enjoy spending time with you.”
For a long moment, your eyes met, and it felt like the world had contracted to only the two of you. The lobby, the ledger, the empty chairs all faded into the background. All that remained was her, the pull of her presence, and the dizzying awareness of being wanted even before she had said as much outright.
She gestured to the back room, voice low and velvety. “Come with me– I’ll show you something important back here.”
Your pulse quickened as you followed, each step echoing softly on the hardwood floor. The office was smaller, intimate, lined with shelves of ledgers, antique books, and a few carefully placed art pieces. The air was warmer here, thick with the faint scent of old paper and her perfume.
She moved closer as she showed you another drawer of forms, brushing past your arm just long enough to make your skin tingle. “Everything has its place,” she murmured, voice soft and deliberate, “and I find it’s best to learn where things belong early.”
You nodded, distracted. Her nearness was overwhelming. The subtle chill of her body, the faint shimmer of diamonds at her throat catching the lamplight, the soft sway of silk against her hips.
Then she leaned a fraction closer, just enough that your eyes met hers. The room seemed to shrink around you, the air electric. “You’re very observant,” she whispered, her lips barely parted, eyes glinting with something sharp, amused, and predatory all at once.
Before you could reply, she tilted her head, her gaze locking on yours, and brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. Slow, deliberate, intimate. Her hand lingered just at your cheekbone, cool and weightless, and the space between you collapsed.
Her lips found yours.
Soft. Testing. Deliberate. Your knees threatened to buckle at the sudden heat, the intoxicating warmth of her mouth pressing against yours. Time dilated; the air was thick, heavy, and sweet.
You didn’t pull back. You couldn’t. Her kiss was commanding, hypnotic, slow enough to dissolve your thoughts into sensation. Every touch, every sigh, every subtle movement carried an unspoken promise.
When she finally parted slightly, eyes locked on yours, the room felt impossibly small. She traced the pad of her thumb across your jaw, just grazing your lips.
“Mmm… you’re very responsive.”
Her voice sent a shiver through you. She smiled faintly, teasing, knowing, and stepped back just enough to let you breathe.
For a heartbeat, you stared, dazed, aware that something profound had begun, intoxicating and impossible to ignore.
Her lips parted again, brushing yours with deliberate slowness. This time, you leaned in, letting her guide the rhythm. The press of her body against yours sent heat flooding through your chest, a delicious ache scattering your thoughts.
Her hands drifted lower, tracing along your arms, mapping your shoulders and sides, feather-light but insistent. You shivered at every touch, every whisper of silk against your skin.
“Mm… so soft…”
Your fingers found the hem of her sleeve, tangling in delicate fabric. You felt her warmth beneath, breath hitching. She noticed, her smile deepening, sharp and knowing.
She tilted her head, capturing your lips again. The kiss slowed, more insistent, deeper, but never rushed. You melted into her, lost in the velvet-dark pull of her presence.
Her hands roamed more boldly, cupping your face, tracing your jaw, brushing through your hair. You leaned in, lips pressing harder, hands trembling as you explored her, feeling silk and skin beneath your fingertips.
She hummed against your mouth, sending another shiver down your spine. “Yes, just like that,” she whispered, lips lingering at the corner of yours, coaxing, pulling you closer.
Your mind hazed, heart hammering, breath uneven, consumed entirely by her. Every inch of the room, every scent, wrapped around you like a velvet trap. You never wanted it to end.
When she finally pulled back slightly, just enough to breathe, her eyes were dark, glinting with amusement and something intimate. “You’re delicious,” she murmured, voice thick with approval. “Very willing.”
You nodded, still shivering, caught in the dizzying haze she had spun. The air hummed with heat, every brush of skin a promise of what might come next.
Before you could respond, her hands were at your sides, guiding you gently but firmly. She pressed you against the polished desk, your curves meeting the cool surface. The weight of her body grounded and dizzying, the ledger beneath your hands vibrating with her touch, a reminder of space even as the world fell away.
Her hands slid along your back, tracing your spine. She tilted her head, lips brushing your cheek as she leaned in, breath warm and intoxicating.
“I like knowing no one else is here,” she whispered, soft but commanding. With a quiet click, the door shut behind you. Locked. Secure. Your pulse spiked.
She pressed closer, chest to chest, cupping your face, tilting your head. “Now, I have your full attention,” she murmured, low, teasing, intimate.
You nodded, lost in the rush of heat, perfume, and the shimmer of diamonds catching the lamplight. Your fingers twitched, aching to reach her. She noticed immediately.
“Eager are we?” she purred, lips brushing yours again, slow, deliberate, coaxing. “I like when you respond.”
Her hands roamed, leaving fire trails across your arms and back, teasing, possessive. You leaned into her, pressing instinctively, lost in the moment, dizzy and intoxicated.
Her hands slid to your hips, pressing you harder against the desk. Coolness radiated from her, overwhelming, and your breath caught.
“Do you feel how close we are?” she murmured, lips brushing yours in a teasing, almost demanding kiss. You responded instantly, tilting your head, lips parting, letting her lead.
Her hands cupped, traced, and pulled you flush against her curves. Every brush of her fingers sent a hot, sharp shiver through you. Your hands wandered, tangling in silk, pressing against the cool beneath, exploring, discovering, wanting.
She hummed low, teasing, coaxing, deepening the kiss, tongue tracing yours with deliberate hunger. You gasped, chest pressing against hers, desk cold beneath your palms, contrasting sharply with the heat pooling between your legs.
“You’re so sensitive,” she murmured, tilting your head back, eyes dark with desire. “I like that. Very much.”
Her hands slipped lower, along your hips and thighs, teasing in ways that made your knees weaken. You leaned into her, moaning softly, clutching her waist, pulling her closer, lips meeting hers in a fiery, demanding kiss.
She bit your lower lip, tugging just enough to make you gasp and tremble. “Yes, just like that,” she whispered, voice thick and husky. “God, you feel incredible, dear.”
Every inch of you thrummed with life, every nerve alight. Your hands roamed her body freely as hers roamed yours, exploring, pressing, tangling in silk and skin. She leaned fully against you, heat and weight pressing you into the desk, kissing and claiming.
She leaned fully against you, pressing you into the desk with her heat and weight. Her lips claimed yours with forceful insistence, and you couldn’t pull back even if you wanted to. Your hands roamed her body freely, tangling in silk and skin, tracing every curve as her hips ground against yours.
“You’re mine,” she whispered, teeth grazing your lips, voice low and demanding. “Every inch, every breath.”
Your fingers slipped beneath the hem of her dress, brushing against her cold, taut skin. She shivered at the touch, pressing harder into you, and a sharp hum escaped her lips.
“So good– you feel that, don’t you? she murmured, lips trailing down your jaw to your neck.
You gasped, letting your hands move with purpose, undoing the buttons of your blouse as she guided you, teasing, tugging. Her eyes held yours, dark with hunger, amusement, and need.
“Faster, darling. Show me how desperate you are,” she urged, voice thick and velvet-smooth. Her hands glided over the exposed skin of your sides, tracing, teasing, coaxing you closer.
Your blouse fell open completely, and she leaned into you, pressing flush against your bare skin. Lips met yours again, deep and claiming, tongue tracing, teeth grazing. She moved with you, guiding, pulling, demanding your attention, your hands, your submission.
Her dress followed next, sliding down her legs until it pooled at her feet. She stepped just enough to give you access, hips pressing against you as your fingers traced the smooth line of her thighs. The silk was soft, but the skin beneath was cold to the touch, and the contrast made your chest tighten and your fingers tremble.
“Curious, hm?” she purred, letting her hand drift along your back, pressing you flush against her. “I like when you touch me like that.”
You pressed closer, exploring, letting your hands roam along the curve of her legs, the hollow of her hips. She gasped softly, a sharp, needy sound that sent heat surging through you. Her body pressed fully into yours, grounding and dizzying all at once.
Her hand guided yours beneath the lace of her underwear, warm and slick against your fingers. Her wetness coated your skin, the warmth of her cunt a stark contrast to the rest of her. She let out a low, ragged hum, pressing harder into you as if she could merge entirely with your touch.
“Oh–yes,” she whispered, hips stuttering against your hand. “Don’t stop. God, you feel so good–”
Her lips captured yours again, teeth grazing, tongue teasing, every press of her body a demand and a promise. Your hands roamed more boldly now, cupping, exploring, mapping every inch of her beneath the silk and lace. She arched into you, every shiver, every gasp a desperate invitation, her warm breath hot against your neck.
“Just like that. Harder. Closer,” she moaned, pressing flush against you. “Feel me, feel how alive I am.”
You obeyed instinctively, fingers moving with more confidence, exploring her wetness, pressing, teasing, feeling every subtle contraction and shiver she offered. She pulled you closer, tangling her fingers in your hair, teeth grazing your lips, whispering your name between breathless moans.
“Yes– just like that. You’re mine,” she breathed, hips rolling, pressing, guiding your hands without restraint. “God, you make me ache, dear.”
Every nerve in your body ignited. You moved with her, pressing, caressing, matching the desperate rhythm of her movements. Her hands tangled in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, teeth grazing, tongue teasing. Your lips moved in time with hers, desperate, hungry, each press and pull heightening the heat between you. She arched against your touch, pressing her hips harder, letting you feel every slick warmth beneath her fingers.
“Yes, just like that,” she whispered, voice low, ragged. “God, you feel so perfect for me–”
Your free hand roamed over her curves, cupping and pressing as you felt her wetness coat your fingers. She gasped sharply, trembling as she pressed flush against you, continuing to grind as she guided your hands. Her hips rolled in perfect, needy rhythm as her control slipped.
“Just like that,” she breathed, teeth grazing your jaw, lips brushing your ear. “Feel how wet I am–that’s how much I need you.”
Her body shivered beneath you, pressing, arching, letting you feel the only heat in her body. You instinctively continued. Sliding your fingers, exploring her folds, teasing and pressing as every touch to her clit was met with a soft moan, a gasp, and whispered encouragement.
“Fuck–I want you. I need all of you–”
Your lips found hers again, tongue tracing, teeth grazing, matching the rhythm of her hips, moving with her desperate, insistent energy.
She leaned back just slightly, letting you trace the line of her collarbone with your lips, over the curve of her breasts, every gasp, every shiver, every soft moan an invitation to go further. Her hands pressed into your back, pulling you flush, finger nails digging into you.
She pressed her hips forward as you slid your hand further beneath the lace of her underwear, wet and slick beneath your touch. A sharp gasp escaped her lips, and she tilted her head back, pressing herself fully into your hand as your fingers pressed her.
“Oh, yes– you sinful thing,” she breathed, voice low, trembling.
You obeyed instinctively, pressing, sliding, curling, teasing, every movement met with shivers, gasps, and soft cries. Her body moved with yours, pressing, arching, writhing, nails digging lightly into your shoulders as she urged you closer.
“Deeper–right there,” she moaned, hips rolling, “I ache for you. Oh–yes, yes, just like that.”
Your fingers worked inside her, curling, pressing, tracing every sensitive line, and she shivered violently, gasps growing sharper. Her back arched, chest pressing into yours, lips parting as she whispered your name in ragged breaths.
“Oh fuck–fuck me you filthy, greedy thing,” she murmured, voice trembling, “I’m yours tonight.”
Every nerve in her body was alive beneath your touch, trembling, tightening, shivering. Her movements became frantic, desperate, pressing, writhing, fingers clutching your arms as she rode the sensations your hand created.
“Yes, don’t stop– right there. Oh gods, yes.” she cried, voice breaking, hips stuttering and pressing, “I’m yours, all yours– I’m–I’m cumming.”
Her body quaked, trembling against your fingers, every gasp, every shiver, every desperate cry spilling from her lips. She clung to you, riding the wave of release, pressing, shivering, moaning, until her breaths came ragged and her body shook, still quivering beneath your touch.
You held her close, fingers sliding slowly, teasing the last shivers from her, pressing her gently against you as her gasps subsided and the tension in the air settled into heat and panting, the desperate fire between you both still smouldering.
Her body still trembled in your hands, but her eyes darkened with a wicked, gleaming hunger. She pressed her chest against yours, tilting her head to whisper.
“You know just how to please a woman, don’t you? So soft, so needy for me,” she murmured, voice low, thick with desire.
She pressed against you briefly, then stepped back just enough to give you a moment of unstable breath. Her eyes glimmered with wicked amusement.
“Come now,” she purred, voice velvet and commanding. “Let me show you how it’s truly done.”
Before you could protest, she slid her hands to your hips, gently easing you toward the edge of the desk. Your pulse spiked as she guided you, pressing firmly yet teasingly, her touch sending shivers down your spine.
“Off the desk, my pet,” she murmured, voice thick with desire. Her hands cupped your hips, gently turning you and kissing the back of your shoulder. “Yes, that’s it.”
She moved behind you, one hand pressing to your lower back, the other trailing up your spine to your shoulders, guiding your upper body down until your hands braced against the desk. She leaned close, lips brushing your ear, teeth grazing the lobe.
“Look at you, so eager, so ready. I could fuck you here forever,” she whispered, her voice both filthy and regal. “And I will. I’ll make you tremble under my touch.”
Her hands slid along your sides, over your hips, then beneath your underwear, fingers pressing teasingly against your wetness. You gasped, arching instinctively as she rolled her hips forward, pressing into your body, guiding your fingers exactly where she wanted them.
“Yes, that’s it. Press into me–oh, my sweet, greedy thing.” Her voice ripped with command and lust, each word a sharpened demand.
She leaned closer, hips nudging your ass, hands trailing higher along your back, fingers digging lightly into your shoulders. Every motion pushed you deeper into her rhythm, your body flush against the desk, vulnerable and burning with need.
“Every gasp, every shiver. You’re mine, aren’t you, little one?” she murmured, lips brushing your shoulder. “Such a perfect little plaything, responding so exquisitely.”
Her fingers moved exactly where you needed them. Curling, pressing, teasing, eliciting sharp cries and shivers. She pressed herself firmly against you from behind, rolling her hips, tilting her head to whisper into your ear.
“Mmm, that’s it. Take me, oh–yes.” Her voice broke into a soft growl as she pressed harder, sliding her fingers with deliberate, needy precision. “Cum for me, little one. Let me feel you shake.”
Every nerve in your body ignited as she controlled the pace, the pressure, the rhythm. Your movements followed her guidance, desperate to please, desperate to match her intensity. Trembling, shivering, utterly claimed.
Her hands never faltered, steady and sure, guiding every breath, every shiver that tore through you. Your hips began to stutter on her fingers, prompting her to hold you through your climax, unyielding as her arm wrapped around your waist, grounding you. Her words were low, constant, praise and possession intertwined.
“Yes, dear. That’s my good girl. I’ve got you.”
She didn’t stop fucking you through it until the tension in your muscles softened, until your breath evened out and your trembling eased. Only then did she slowly pull her fingers away, her lips grazing the shell of your ear.
“There now,” she murmured, almost tender. “Look at you–ruined. Radiant. Exactly as I wanted.”
Her hands lingered a moment longer as she gently turned you back around to face her. One hand traced lazy circles down your spine while the other rested possessively at your hip. She tilted your chin up just enough to meet her gaze. The faintest smile curved her mouth, indulgent and victorious.
“You belong to me, don’t you?”
The words weren’t a question so much as a truth already claimed, hanging between you in the quiet after the storm.
The Countess lingered for a moment longer, adjusting the folds of her dress with practised grace as she slipped it back on. She turned her attention to you. “Stand up, darling,” she murmured, her voice silk again, calm, composed. Her hands were gentle as she helped you to your feet, smoothing your blouse where it had fallen askew, fastening the buttons with deft fingers. The simple act felt almost reverent, a private ritual in the aftermath of chaos.
When she was finished, she brushed an invisible wrinkle from your sleeve, her eyes flicking briefly to yours with that familiar spark of amusement. “You don’t have to finish your shift tonight,” she said lightly. “Consider it… compensated time. I’ll ensure you’re paid for the full evening.”
You started to protest, but she silenced you with a small, knowing smile. “I insist,” she said, tone firm but teasing. “You’ve earned far more than coin tonight.”
She stepped away to adjust a stray lock of hair, her composure immaculate once more, then glanced back over her shoulder. “I could have a car arranged for you,” she offered, her voice dipped in velvet. “It’s late, and the streets aren’t kind at this hour.”
You shook your head, murmuring your thanks, insisting you’d be fine. Her brow arched slightly, half in challenge, half in fondness. “Stubborn,” she said softly, a hint of laughter beneath the word.
When you were both fully dressed again, she closed the distance between you in a single, graceful motion. Her hand rose to your chin, tilting it upward. “Then allow me one more indulgence before you go,” she whispered.
Her lips found yours once more. Not hungry this time, but slow, luxuriant and rich with promise. It was a kiss that tasted of wine and velvet, of something unfinished. When she finally drew back, her gaze lingered, a smile ghosting at the corner of her mouth.
“Until next time, my dear,” she murmured. “And there will be a next time."
TW/CW: Established relationship, gn!reader, strap use, strap referred to as dick/cock, implied breeding, dom!gaga, sub!reader, not proofread
Summary: After reader spent an entire day begging for their girlfriend to take them, Gaga decides to fuck them... but not before she gets the answer to a question.
How bad did you want Stephanie?
The answer was, to no one’s surprise, a lot. Straddling her hips you flung to her shoulders begging for her to rail you. She smelt of sweat, had glitter stuck to her skin from her last concert and her make up was smudged. Yet to you she had never looked as yummy. Your hips rolled forward ferociously like trying to lure her into your welcoming depths, which were already dripping in wetness from grinding against the bulge in Gaga’s leather pants.
It provided some friction yes but nowhere near enough to give you the relief needed in the moment.
“Mama- p-please-“
You whined and kissed her neck in sloppy open mouthed kisses leaving lipstick stains on your dome’s skin. Gaga grabbed you by your chin and pushed your head away from her neck smacking you look into her eyes.
“So eager baby. But I can’t just fuck you. You know I take consent very very seriously.”
“Consent?” You seemed confused. You had been begging her for it the whole day long how much more clear could you be with your consent?
“Yes baby consent. I won’t lay a finger on you unless I know you want me.”
“I do… I want you so so fucking bad, mama…”
“Non, mi amore… I need you to show me. Tell me. Make it known… I need your actual, enthusiastic, unadulterated consent. You want me? Let it show.” Stephanie stated her tone firm not leaving room for arguments. Not that you would have argued any way you were too far gone to bother yapping back at her, so you complied…
“I want you.. Iwant you to fuck me… rail me. I want- I.. I need”
You stammered out, hoping your pleas would suffice. In response Gaga let out a chuckle.
“You want me?”
As your desperation grew and grew you trembled and clung to her clothes your eyes brimming with unshod tears of lust as a wetsuit formed in your pants meaning your underwear was thoroughly soaked through with your arousal.
“I need you inside me, Gaga, i feel so empty without your cock filling me I can’t think. It’s wrong to not be riding you, it’s driving me crazy. Nothing turns me on more. Do you even get how wet I am? And it is all your fault” you said, words rolling off your tongue like sacrilegious whispers and then you guided her hand inside your underwear, her digits sliding between the folds of your labia collecting the drops of wetness and she smiled before withdrawing her hand.
“Dice per favore.” She commanded you. Say please.
“Please, Mama… take me.”
And just like that you were flipped over onto your stomach. Your girlfriend climbing on top of you pulling your pants and now ruined underwear to the floor slipping the tip of her latex cock against your gaping hole. You let out little strangled cries of pleasure each touch sending delicious shockwaves through your body and making heat pool on your core.
The strap was securely attached to Gaga, This one was like a jockstrap, ensuring it was pressed neatly against her so with each thrust it would rub against her clit providing sensations for her as well. As her hips jutted forward invading your wetness Gaga let out a lowly growl, gripping at your waist roughly and then, with a few moves the whole extent of the shaft went inside you causing you to let out a surprised yelp.
It didn’t hurt, she knew how much you could take and the amount was nowhere near minimal. You were a hungry little fiend when it came to her strap and she knew just how to sate your hunger. She thrusted deep inside you, and then almost all the way out before slamming herself in roughly, her thighs slapping the back of your with a thunderous clap.
“G-ga-“ n two speak but her mouth covered yours preventing any words storm escaping your pretty lips.
“Don’t call me Gaga”
You got chills and nodded. “Mommy…” you replaced her name with an honorific and you were immediately rewarded with her digits rubbing against the bundle of nerves of your flit setting them all alight with pleasure. You began to hump her fingers with all the neediness of a little submissive slut which you were for her. And only her.
Your walls clamped around the strap, pulling it in as you began to feel yourself going slightly lightheaded, all your body trembled and you were feeling tingles, you were on the cusp of a earth shattering orgasm and you knew it, so did she. So Gaga rubbed your clitorídeo in circular motions, unyielding, until you began to convulsed back arching, eyes rolling back stringing along an incoherent mess off babbles amongst which her name, a series of religious words and a whole other array of curses.
Your orgasm on the other hand seemed to draw out Gaga’s own climax eliciting her to react calling your name and saying all manners of nonsensical dirty talk and sweet nothings both in Italian and in English her hands squeezing the reservoirs on the base of the strap making it shoot the artificial spunk up inside your walls coating the insides of your pussy with her sperm… in your blissed out state you even begged her to put a baby in you.
As you both began to come down from your respective highs Gaga kissed your shoulder and neck leaving little lovebites here and there.lol she praised you for how well you took her Fock and called you beautiful. You whined…
“Am I going to have your baby?” You asked in a shaky breath
Summary: You come over to your friend Jennifer's house thinking it's going to be a nice time tanning in the summertime. That turns into something more.
Warnings: smut; finger penetration if you squint, oral sex (reader giving), scissoring, overstimulation, squirting.
A/n: Wrote this with @ilovemilfs999999999999 ❤️
It was hot outside with the sun overhead. You were watching from your window getting ready to get a tan in your yard.
Your neighbor Jennifer was also out, in her bikini and boxer bottoms getting ready to swim. She was applying sunscreen over her body. You were watching as she ran the cream over her shoulders, collarbones, neck, you almost felt like a creep. Until Jen saw you in the window, gave you a smile and a wink, and waved. You froze in place and smiled back, you think you two flirt regularly. One time you saw her masturbate on complete accident in her bedroom and you were scared to come over ever since. You have been over to her place which was huge, but only because you two got to know each other and had a cookout.
You found her so fucking attractive. You had so much lust and longing for her. She kept eye contact while she pulled her bottom a little bit down, just barely before her hairs were revealed, putting some cream there just for the hell of it. Her own hands roaming her sculpted abdomen that's glistening in the sun. You wanted to fuck this woman so hard, and for her to fuck you into oblivion. You honestly fell in love with her over the course of the couple months since you moved in, and you began to throb, fuck why now you thought to yourself. You have touched yourself before thinking of her. Only if you could have that in the real world.
Jennifer cocked her head motioning you to come over. This was dangerous. What was she going to have you do. You'd do anything she asked and that's the truth. All you wanted was to touch her body and run your hands over her abs while begging for her to let you suck her clit.
You waddled over to her yard which was it's own private residence. She had the side table filled with a book and some fruit appetizers.
"Hey, help yourself to the fruit. You doing well lately? Jen asked while laying down on her poolside chair, basking in the sun. Fuck you thought. Just wanted to ride her cunt right then and there. All of her exposed skin made you soaking wet.
"Yeah I've been doing good actually. How are you dealing with the heat?"
"I'm managing, getting my tan for the summer eh?"
"Yeah, same. What book are you reading?" You picked up the book and read the title, you've read this one before. It was about a sexy romance between a ceo and her assistant. Did Jen swing both ways? I really shouldn't be thinking about the older woman's sexuality but it was damn near impossible. Wasn't her business but she was dying to know. "Oh I've read this before. I liked it."
"Yeah I'm liking it too, except it seems like the main gal is being a toughie"
Yeah…I didn't like that either. So, how come you wanted me down here? Not that I don't want to be-"
"I just- wanted someone to chat with and…you don't have to be here obviously. You're nice to talk to." Jen scooted over to make room for you to sit down so you did so. Your ass grazed against her side and you were already so anticipated. You felt so bad about what you saw.
"I wanted to apologize about something…"
Jen looked at you like a confused puppy.
"Last week I- I saw your bedroom through my hallway window and I froze and I'm sorry…I had to tell your otherwise I'll always feel terrible."
Jen's face stayed a blank for a second or two. You were just waiting for you to kick you out of her yard.
"What was I doing?"
"Having alone time. Making yourself feel good. I promise it was by accident."
"I needed it that night. I'm all alone here since my divorce from quite a few years ago. Gets very lonely. Had to treat myself you know? A woman's best friend is her fingers and gut! Seriously, it's fine, don't feel bad."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Don't worry." Jennifer put her hand over her eyes trying to make out my face.
"You want someone for you, for a long time?"
"I'd…love that very much…I've been dying for someone with real want and caring for me." Jen stared into my eyes. Her beautiful ocean-green eyes. I want to kiss her so bad. Dance with our tongues. She gave me an interesting look. I could see the gears turning in her head.
"I don't think I've known before, hope you don't mind me asking, but how's your guy situation?" Jen asked.
"It's terrible. I've given up on them. I'm into women now…I've gotten to know myself and I got a type." Crap. Why did I say that?
Jennifer took the apple off the tray and took a chunk out of it while smirking. "What's your type?" Fuck.
"Older women. I like someone who's caring and have such a nurturing presence. Also, they're so hot, just like you." I smirked. No coming back from that. Oh man, she's smiling.
"You wouldn't mind being kissed by me would you? Or…something more than that?"
"I wouldn't mind riding you like a horse-"
Just after I said that Jennifer closed the gap between us, held the back of my neck and kissed me, hard. Full of wanting? How long has she wanted to do that? Doesn't matter because I'm right where I want to be.
"This alright?"
"Yes. Please fuck me."
We started making out again, her grabbing and teasing my nips till they were already hard so fast from the sensation. Jen unclasped my bikini top with one hand, bringing her mouth to my exposed nipple. Everything was happening so fast. I snapped back when I felt her tongue on my chest.
"Wait I-..."
Jen stopped. "Tell me what you want."
I pushed her back onto the laid back chair. She took off her top with ease, exposing her breasts smaller than mine, but oh so perfect to be in my hands. I went up to wrap my lips on her nipple. Flicking her with my tongue, she held the back of my head with her hand.
"F-fuuuuck"
I did that for a bit then I pushed her boxers down revealing her exposed pussy. She was so wet holy fuck. I took off my own bottoms and climbed over her to straddle her lap.
"You wanna ride my cunt baby?"
I grinded down. Our juices mixed and slid with each other.
"P-pleaseee yes-"
"God you feel fucking amazing"
She reached under my thigh and slid her fingers inside my cunt effortlessly. Her thumb went between our pussies and rubbed my clit with good preasure. I pushed myself further into her, nothing mattered right now besides giving my crush a good fuck I hope. I moaned so loud I had to cover my own mouth. Jen reached up to remove my hand. I whined on accident.
“You don’t need to do that baby. We’re far away from anyone really.”
You smirked and then got off of her. Her fingers pulling out.
"What are you doing?"
You pulled her by the thighs towards you at the end of the chair, getting ready to suck her clit and cum up.
"Oh you don't need to do that-"
"No but I do. I want you. I've been dreaming about this for so long."
"Oh fuuuuuccck"
You looked at her body before you dove it. Her sexy fucking v-line going all the way down to her cunt. Her delicious meat and nectar. You reached up to cup her breasts. Her nipples are erect . So hard and her breasts felt so good in your hands. Jen let out a noise when you pinched her nip. Then running your hands all up and down her body. How fit she was. Her toned thighs just below you. Abs glowing in the sun. Yeah, you wanted this.
You stuck out your tongue and licked a stride up. Then down. Then continued to her quivering hole. Clenching around your tongue Jen gripped the back of your head without hesitation. Pushing you in further. Wrapping your lips around her clit you began to suck. She instantly threw her head back at that. You looked up. Seeing her in such a perfect mess. Her mouth making an "o".
"God please, keep going. Make me cum baby."
So you did. Sliding two fingers inside her. Her guts getting rearranged. You kept sucking and flicking and fucking her beautiful cunt. Her looking down at you felt so good to yourself. Jen was in full ecstasy. Bathing in the sun. Getting a hell of some head from her horny neighbor. This was amazing. The pool looking good, light hitting the water so it gleamed on the both of you.
"I saw you fucking yourself and I wanted nothing more to be your fingers."
"You horny slut. Now you're getting it. Are you happy here? F-fuck I'm going to-"
Rethinking your position you nodded. Tongue moving with your mouth. Jennifer practically screamed. Shooting a liquid out of her into your mouth. You moaned and suck it all up. Looking back up at Jen she smiled.
"You gonna swallow for me darling?"
You swallowed. The lump in your throat loving it. Jen petted your head. Sweat on her face. Her afterglow looked incredible. You got up and wiped the cum off your face. Licking the rest to your mouth. Jen keep looking at you. Amazed.
"You're so beautiful. I don't suppose you want to be my girlfriend don't you?"
scarlett knows you’re in love with New York and despite having drivers that can easily bring you to one side to another of the city, she knows you prefer taking the subway. you’re favourite is the Q train where you can see the best landscapes as it’s an open train space. your wife always makes sure to pick up a spot by the door, she always says “i want to see that beautiful smile on your face the whole ride” and as you watch the train going from Manhattan to Brooklyn, scarlett wraps an arm around your waist and looks up at you with pure love.
scarlett loves how you adore your county despite its bad sides. you’re here for work so you don’t go back home as much as you would want. the last time was at christmas two years ago with all the family. little pieces of your culture are spread in the house tho, through the food, the flag you hung in your home office, some products you buy at the authentic drug stores owned by people of your home-country. you also started to teach the kids your childhood traditions, your favourite meals, your native language even. sometimes you go out in typical restaurants, or the one that claims to be typical when they’re not, and your wife has to listen you ramble about how they couldn’t make a simple dish of your land and instead ruined it. “can you believe baby? they ruined it, look at this: chicken. why? there’s no chicken in the original recipe and yet i see chicken here, why you americans put chicken everywhere?” scarlett would laugh and sometimes record your little grumbles. the kids loves when you, their mama, cook home land dishes of a culture they’re starting to feel like theirs. your wife loves when your accent rolls off your tongue when you’re tired or pissed, sometimes even when you two fuck roughly; it send her over the edge in no time. however the thing she likes the most is when you speak in your native language giving her or the kids pet names or when you whisper “i love you.”
you’re the biggest supporter ever. the way your eyes shine when you stand beside scarlett at movies premiers, it’s unmatched. you always buzz around your wife when she’s being prepared by make-up and hair-stylists taking extra time to snap some phots of her proudly. you make sure her dress is always perfect and adjust it often during the carpet. you make sure scarlett is always hydrated, not only with alcohol but with water too!, and fed because these things are stressful and your lady has to be healthy. you step back when she poses for paparazzi photos even tho she insists to have you beside her, she would softly place her hand on your chest clothed by the black jacket and shares smiles and little whispers. “you’re so beautiful, baby” or “i can’t take my eyes off you” these are the words that you find to whisper to her in that moments when your eyes are glued to her form, your hand gently cradles her back. you in the end step back giving your wife the deserved moment in the shiny flashes of the photographer’s bulbs, she poses and you look at her, sometimes you would snap a few picture too of her beside the paparazzi. scarlett would peck your lips amidst the event, they reassure you like a warm blanket and she softly pass her slender fingers to wipe her lipstick off your lips. you watch the movie with rapt attention because despite everything, before meeting her, you were and are a fan of her movies. in the end you always hug her and pepper her lips and cheeks whispering “congratulations my love, you were brilliant!”, “i can feel the oscar baby, can i start your campaign now?”, “i’m so incredibly proud of you, you’re a movie star” or “look at that baby, they’re all clapping and cheering for you, you’re so inspiring.” at the after party you both dance, engage in conversation with people and sometimes only seat at the bar together. you make sure to drink only safe drinks and let your wife party as she deserve. you take care of her and by the end of the night she’s not much sober but you steady her holding by her waist, your suit jacket always ready to shield the woman from the cold gently rest on her shoulders and her heels accomodate your feet while she wears you’re much more comfortable shoes.
scarlett started a skin care brand line with her friend and co-founder, kate foster. you, despite not knowing a thing about skin care, started to be supportive since the first day. however you didn’t know your wife would make you be a tester. you forgot how many times you ran around the house to dodge her “c’mon baby let’s try this eye cream, i swear it will be good for your eyes!” or the times she would let you sit on the bathroom sink with a blue argyle mask on your face, a hand band with the brand logo that would definitely make your curls frizzy and messy. you would groan and grumble a lot but your wife is always quick to kiss you. in the end you fell into a routine of doing this pampering ritual every night. slowly you started to learn a lot about skin care and your wife’s work. you also would crash often at her office to just bring donuts and coffee or sneak to spend more time with your wife and the team. and much to your dismay, scarlett will never stop treating you like a tester, she’s already planning on dragging you at the offie to record some funny videos of her putting on your face brand new face creams.
talking about videos, you hate cameras and photos. oh you’re the opposite of your wife in this department. you’re a diplomat, an ambassador specifically, so you barely stand in front of cameras and address speeches, a safe way to do what you love without struggling with the media press. however since you got into a relationship with your wife and got married, you quickly became a target to paparazzi’s cameras. you awkwardly stand beside your wife when you’re taking photos at the event she has to attend, but scarlett is always there to calm you down with soft touches, whispers and little pecks. “it’s okay baby, focus on me, everything’s is alright”. when they catch you in the street you go protective over the kids and wife putting your discomfort aside. “little one it’s okay, look at mama, everything is okay. scarlett, baby, come closer to me. it’s okay”. when you’re alone, you just hide behind a hoodie hood. you rarely talk to the microphones and usually only offer politely smile and shield your anxious eyes.
scarlett never saw you crying in the years you’ve been together and probably she thought she would never. this until your wedding day arrived. oh, boy! the moment you saw her walking down the aisle you started crying for her endlessly beauty and the overwhelming love you have for her. after that you cried again, much harder, when your little girl was born. scarlett loves teasing you a lot about it. you blush rolling your eyes playfully and dismissing her with a groan.
you rarely fight but when you do, and it’s always for silly things, it doesn’t take much to crack the hard shell. one of you crawl in the arms of the other not much more than 1 hour later. you’re an ambassador so your job is to make peace, after toxic experiences in your past relationship, your communication level is high and you’re lucky enough to have found scarlett that is on the same page as yours. scarlett would hold you close and kiss the crown of your head. “i’m so sorry my love, i promise to work better on these things.” you would kiss her knuckles and whisper “i’m sorry too, baby, we’ll work on them together.”
at the end of the day it’s just you and your wife. you softly sway in the gold sunrise painting your skins. scarlett arms wrapped around your neck cradling the glass of wine between her hands while she leans to ghost your lips. your hand on her hip, the other hold your glass of wine close to the chest. you both hum the song that is putted on the background while behind you food cooks on the stove and mixes with the noises of the city. it’s peaceful, it’s a paradise, it’s you and the love of your life in a life that isn’t perfect, but has a glimpse of perfection shared together.
A/N: This is a wonderful prompt from a lovely friend. It uses a prompt from @taylorswiftmicrofic for the 15th of January, which is 'tongue-tied'.
.
You are in the training room. It is past midnight and you are watching her. Natasha hits the punching bag with the same unflinching rhythm.
You are standing behind her in the doorway. You watch the muscles in her shoulders coil and spring. Sweat has curled the strands of hair at the base of her neck, the rest hangs in a short ponytail that swings with every punch.
You wonder if she will ever stop.
You clear your throat and watch the briefest pause in her movements. You feel her waiting. The pressure makes you tongue-tied. Natasha keeps punching and you know that she doesn’t want to hear you anyway.
You walk back to your room, to the food laid out on the dining table. You pack it up wordlessly into tupperware containers. You don’t eat anything. You feel empty inside and eating only reminds you that it can’t be fixed.
You are lying in bed staring at the ceiling when you hear the front door open and shut. You turn away from the bedroom door when you hear her approach. Natasha pauses to assess your faux steady breathing as you pretend to sleep. You know it doesn’t fool her. She walks through to the bathroom and after a moment you hear the shower run.
Tears stain your cheeks before you realise that you are crying. You wonder if anyone really wants to know you.
Natasha pulls back the covers and lies beside you. Silence stretches out. You know she isn’t sleeping.
Ever since they told her about this mission. About the young girls suffering and the scale of it. She can’t sleep.
She trains like her effort will correlate to lives saved. Natasha feels out of control. You know her.
Your heart is breaking from too many things. Under the sheets, you slide your hand over to touch her warm skin. Natasha tenses.
You pull your hand back to your own chest. You fight the urge to cry harder, you fight to keep your lungs breathing steady. You bunch the fabric of your t-shirt tightly in a fist and try not to make a sound.
Natasha is gone when you wake up.
.
Loneliness is the latest epidemic.
The headline accompanies the breakfast news broadcast on the TV.
You sip your morning coffee and try not to think about it.
A tupperware is missing from the fridge and you know that Natasha will not be back for lunch.
You spend the day with your thoughts for company.
When the evening gets long again and Natasha doesn’t appear, you begin to worry.
There is the gnawing discomfort of being alone.
There is the shame of being touch starved in a bed next to someone you love.
Worst of all is the fear that Natasha will die. That you are wasting time.
You don’t find her in the training room, you don’t find her anywhere. You pad through the empty halls and you try to decide if she’d leave without telling you.
If there is a place past the hell you are currently in. (If you are about to find it.)
.
Natasha is in the weapons training room. The sharp sounds of a gun being fired set your teeth on edge. It has always set your teeth on edge.
In another time, Natasha has held you for the fight scenes in movies. She has pressed her lips to your hair. She has been comfort.
You feel incapable. You don’t know how to be hers.
Natasha turns when she senses your presence behind her. She pulls back the ear defenders so they hang around her neck. She holds the gun casually. You feel the built in terror rise as you can’t look away from the gun.
You swallow and stumble over your question. The only one you ever think to ask.
‘Are you okay?’
The gun twitches in Natasha’s hand and you take a step back. It is instinctive. It is embarrassing.
Natasha rolls her eyes.
You press your tongue to the roof of your mouth and beg your tears not to fall. This is ending. This is over. This cannot be love.
‘I’m fine.’
She intones it with an obvious implication. Her hand twitches again and the gun moves. You flinch back automatically. She is doing it on purpose.
You force your gaze upward to meet Natasha’s.
Her jaw is tense. Her eyes are tired. She is stubbornness and misery.
She blinks a few times too quick and you see her again.
She is scared. She is small. She is the girl in the cargo container, lying to her sister that things will be okay.
You can’t tell if she loves you. You know that she did once. Every time she held your hand. Every time she smiled that hopeful smile. Every time, you knew.
You don’t look back down to the gun, even though the vague outline of it in your periphery makes you want to claw at your chest.
You look at Natasha’s eyes. The tightness in her jaw. The tilt of her chin and the smallest furrow of her brow.
She might not love you. But you might never stop.
‘I love you.’
You force the words out. Your mouth twists into a smile that can only be sad.
You leave and try not to think about the way it doesn’t matter.
.
Natasha leaves for her mission the next day.
You find yourself in the place that is worse than hell.
(You only find out when she’s already gone.)
.
The mission is supposed to last three weeks. It ends up taking a month and a half.
You have moved out before the second week begins.
.
You realise that the empty feeling comes from having a heart that is too heavy. You don’t know what to do about it.
All you have is the hope that it will be easier.
.
Natasha calls you.
The contact flashes up on your phone and you answer without thinking. Your heart is too heavy and it’s full of her.
‘I did it. I can’t believe. I did it.’
She sounds dazed. She sounds like she has witnessed a miracle. You grip your phone tightly because her voice is better than you remembered. Natasha talks about the mission and the words are hazy as you process only the joy behind them.
‘I can’t wait to see you.’
The words are tagged on at the end.
You will always be an afterthought. You hang up.
.
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Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3
OOPS my ask did go through omg 😭😭😭 it was the same thing so you don't have to answer it 😩 thank you!!!! I enjoyed the hcs so much...
a fun one i thought was a drabble/fic of rachel being extremely possessive and jealous so she doesn't just mark you with kisses but also writes that someone 🙂 is the property of miss rachel green
hehe thank u for indulging me - ✨️
you're very welcome! it makes me so happy to know you enjoyed it 🥰 I love all the requests you send in, so I really hope you like this one too 💕
Property of Rachel Green (Rachel Green x gn reader)
Warnings: jealous/possessive Rachel, not explicit smut but there's definitely suggestive elements involved, hickeys/marking kink
Rachel scowled as she watched you chat with one of your coworkers by the counter in Central Perk. She crossed her arms and slumped down further in her spot on the couch, trying to ignore the tight feeling of jealousy that was currently constricting her chest.
She made mocking mumbles under her breath at your coworker's responses whenever she heard them speak until Monica finally interjected. "If you're so upset by what's going on, why don't you go over there and do something about it?"
The blonde perked up at the idea immediately. "You know what, Mon, that's a great idea. I'm gonna go do just that." She got up from the couch, carefully smoothing out the fabric of her outfit and adjusting her hair until she heard Monica speak again. "Oh, for God's sake, Rachel, you look fine. Now, just go over there already."
Nodding at her words, she quickly made her way over to where you were still speaking with your coworker, someone who was absolutely gorgeous if Rachel did say so herself. Not quite as gorgeous as she was, naturally, but still, with you talking to them for so long she obviously had reason to be upset.
Much to her delight, you wrapped an arm around her waist immediately, tugging her in closer before turning to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Hi, honey," she cooed in delight at the show of affection, shooting your coworker a subtle nasty look.
"Hey, sweetheart. How's it going?" You seemed oblivious to what was going on, and it seemed to her as if you were completely unaware of the envy lurking just beneath her sickeningly sweet surface.
"Well, it's certainly going even better now that you're here." Her voice was a low purr when she spoke, and she punctuated her statement by leaning in to give you a kiss, which you accepted gladly. "I saved you a seat," she added while gesturing back to the couch behind her, a not-so-subtle way of stating that she didn't want you ignoring her any longer for some other random person, whether you worked with them or not.
You picked up what she was trying to get across immediately. "It was nice talking to you. I'll see you tomorrow," you politely excused yourself from the conversation before allowing your girlfriend to tug you back in the direction of the friend group's usual spot.
Despite knowing you were referring to when you'd see them at work the next day, Rachel still rolled her eyes at your words. See you tomorrow. Yeah, and when they did they were going to know even further you were already taken for, that much was sure.
She spent that entire night having round after round of sex with you. You weren't quite sure what had gotten into her that had her begging for more even after you'd already finished a round, but you weren't exactly complaining about it.
The next day, you struggled to find a shirt that had a collar high up enough that would help to hide all the hickeys she'd left behind on your neck. "Here, sweetie. Why don't you wear this one?" She suggested with a sweet smile.
Of course you took her advice, giving her an appreciative kiss as you went to go put it on. She smirked as she watched you, having spritzed the shirt with some of her perfume so you'd smell like her and be reminded of her all throughout the day (hopefully it would remind your coworkers of her, too, especially the one you bumped into at the coffee shop).
Stil unaware of her plan, you continued with getting ready for the day while she sat scheming. There had to be something else she could do to let them know that you were hers. And then it hit her.
The passionate kiss she pulled you in for right as you were about to leave was thankfully distracting enough for her to be able to tape a sign to your back without you knowing- not one that said "Kick Me", but one that had "Property of Rachel Green" written on it instead. She could only imagine the reactions your coworkers would have when they saw it.
And if you happened to return from work a teensy bit frustrated with her for putting it there in the first place, let's just say she already had a few plans on how to calm you back down again.
End notes: do I already have an idea for a part two for this? maybe 🤭
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Reader is the new intercontinental champion and doesn’t know rhea very well since the world champion has taken so much time off, during a press event for the royal rumble Rhea and reader are alone backstage, reader has a severe panic attack…
-thank you queen
Ooooooo you already know I’m on it✨
I’ve Got You- Rhea Ripley
Warning: Panic attacks and skin scratching!
"Watch your step," the p.a tells you, if only he knew. Every time you placed a foot on the ground you felt like it was sinking into mud and your legs felt like jello. "Just wait here," he tells you quickly before running out somewhere else. Where even the fuck was here? You'd rarely been to this stadium not to mention it was under construction and half covered in tarps that all looked the same. You felt like the halls you'd gone throw to get here were a maze and your vision felt like looking through ski goggles.
You hadn't even realised it was happening, one moment you were celebrating one of the biggest wins of your career. You'd fought hard for it and soaked it in but as the crowd became muffled and your adrenaline came down the reality of such a title started to cloud your thoughts. Had the belt been this heavy a minute ago? It felt like a fucking anchor on your waist but you can't seem to get your hands to unclasp it.
Your gear feels like it's strangling you and you reach up to scratch at your chest, your cold hand meets hot skin. Feeling your sweaty hair sticking to your neck is making you tense at the shoulders and closing up your body makes it feel like you can't breathe at all. You can hear people talking around you but they sound like they're underwater and you're drowning. You hit a folding chair as you stumble towards a corner and it takes every ounce of control left not to scream at send it flying with a kick.
The room feels like it's spinning and you have no clue where the door you came in through has gone, you're trapped and exposed at the same time.
"Congratulations," it's the first thing you hear clearly and it's because it's inches behind you, accompanied by a hand on your shoulder you immediately shrug off and spin around ready to throw your fist. "Woah there mate,"
You knew who she was, god everyone knew who she was but up until now you'd never seen her face to face.
"Fuck," you say realising you just pretty much threatened her, "sorry I just... uh.. thanks," you spit out all at once keeping your wobbling gaze on the floor.
"Are you okay?" she asks leaning down to your height trying to look at your face, it's then it finally catches up to her what's happening when you don't answer. Your eyes finally meet but you're staring through her and your chest is moving way too fast, nails leaving red marks as you scratch at yourself.
You don't even realize she's moved closer until your pressed against her body, her arms secured tightly around you. The fear in you recoils as you resist against her.
"You're having a panic attack," she whispers gently, something you hadn't expected from someone you just met, no less the brutal eradicator who'd fought her way back from injury and ripped the women's world championship from Liv. "But you're safe,"
Despite being held with your head against her chest you feel like you can breathe easier, the sensation of little spikes on her gear gives you something to focus on other than the way your skin itches. Her hands are heaving on your back as you get used to their presence.
"Can you hear me?" She tries and you nod gently, she relaxes but keeps her embrace strong making eye contact with a staff member and mouths 'ice pack' to them. "That's good, really good,"
In any other instance praise from such a dominating woman would send you gasping and flushing in another way but the way her deeper voice hums in her chest seems to soothe you. A young brunette comes rushing up to Rhea with an ice pack and as she reaches a hand to grab for it she feels your hands start to grip at her clothes.
"I'm not going anywhere, I've got you," she recoils her hand before grabbing the ice pack and runs it comfortingly down your hair. "You fought hard but I'm protecting you now love," the young brunette stares at the scene and wordlessly puts the pack on a folding table nearby. Ignoring the questioning glances of people around you feel her moving you both and she gently pulls you from her.
“Sit down I promise I’m staying,” her eyes don’t leave yours as you shakily find the chair below you, the cool metal is a relief. Rhea turns to grab the ice pack then squats down infront of her, her hand immediately grasping yours as she maintains her promise to stay. “Put this over your cheeks under your eyes,”
She places the ice pack in your other hand and you friend it loosely, hands shaking.
“I’m not injured,” you try to tell her, imagining your make up looks like bruises around your face.
“I know just trust me,” she prompts the ice towards you and you let her go to place it, “deep breathes with me,” and though you can’t see her with the ice pack she keeps her hands on your knees you steady them, gently tapping her index finger to keep your air flow steady. You don’t know how long it’s been when you lower the ice but she’s still infront of you giving her full attention.
“Hey pretty girl,” she greets and gently takes the ice from your hands before wrapping them in hers to rid you of the cold. Your cheeks feel frozen in a good way, your vision seeming to focus. “You did good,”
“You helped me,” okay, well, maybe not the most smooth greeting, observing the obvious but hearing you talk to her made a soft smile cross her lips. “Thank you,”
“I’ve been there,” she admits and you smile, the world still feels a little fuzzy and your body occasionally trembles. “Is it the press conference?”
“Maybe? I think so,” you shake your head trying to clear it but her hand in your peripheral stops you, she tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and keeps you looking forward.
“I hate them,” Rhea dead pans and it makes you sniff and smile at her, “half of them don’t even watch I mean you saw Iyo and that guy who asked her about back up as if she didn’t have a well known established faction,”
“She broke you,” you agree and Rhea nods. The sound of people filing into the room behind the curtain makes Rhea turn around. You stand slowly making sure your legs hold you and Rhea keeps her hands out just in case. “Good to know you can spot,” you joke, a good sign.
The sound of Triple H speaking fills the room and it’s getting close to your turn, Rhea undoes the belt and helps you lay it over your shoulder.
“I’ll be in on the side okay,” she tell you firmly and you nod, “I’ll stay until you’re done,”
“You don’t know me?” You question turning to look at the chair and ice, this woman you’d rarely interacted with had just seamlessly brought you down from a full fledged panic attack and though you were grateful, you didn’t understand. She holds out a hand to you which you take quickly,
“Rhea Ripley,”
Thanks for the request! Hope you enjoyed! I realised at the end I didn’t even mention the rumble my bad 😥
Anxiety peeps! Fun-fact using an ice pack or doing an ice dive can bring your distress tolerance levels down! It’s called temperature regulation. Healthy brain things ✨🧠
