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wifeofnatasharomanoff · 1 year

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Restless Nights

WARNINGS: angst, fingering (r receiving), oral (r receiving), dom!Wanda, arranged marriages, infidelity, jealousy, mentions of homophobia

WORDS: 2,401

PAIRING: princess!Wanda x princessF!Reader

A/N: ugh , i've been struggling with assignments and i have final exams so i promise i'll be writing and posting my anonymous and un-anonymous requests soon !!

Wanda. She loved you, and you loved her. But you couldn't love her. Neither could she love you. Though you laid nights together, sweaty and disheveled, gowns thrown on the floor, jewelry scattered around the room. The moons glow, illuminating the room, her hands interlocked with yours, her beautiful green eyes looking down at you. Oh, but you couldn't be with her. You were to be wed to Prince Pietro, and she to be wed to Prince Vision. You weren't meant to be. But you wished so.

You lie in bed with your hand running through her wispy dirty blonde hair, “printsessa?” you hummed in response. “Would you ever want to run away with me?” your hand froze in place. She's never asked such a question. Do you want to run away with her? Yes. But — but what about the Royal family's reputation? You knew you didn't care about the reputation. Yet you knew if you ran away, eventually, you'd have to come back and face any consequences. Most likely, getting hanged or burned. “Y/N? Would you?” you continued your movements on her hair, “yes– I mean.. I wouldn't mind living far away with you.” she traced invisible patterns on your bare thigh. “What would the others think? Two princesses from different kingdoms, engaged to two different princes running away together..” you trail off as you feel her palm inch closer to your centre.

“So?” your breath catches in your throat. “So? Wanda.. what if–” she squeezed your inner thigh, “what if they find out ab- Wanda would you quit it? I'm being serious about this!” she snickered and grabbed onto your thighs. “I'm infatuated with you, my lady.” she whispered as she nipped at your skin. You threw your head back onto the soft pillows that lay on your mattress. “I would do anything to make you my queen..” she mumbled against your exposed cunt. “As– as would I, my love.” you clutched at the sheets as you felt her warm tongue dip into your folds, her head right in between your legs. “Oh Wanda!” she pinched at your clit causing you to yelp slightly. “Be quiet. You wouldn't want one of the maids to find us right?” you knew that even if the chambers were Royal members after hours only, that sometimes your father would call a maid down to check up on you.

“Mhm.. you're right Wan.” you could almost hear the smirk in her tone, “good girl. Now stay still.” she pinned your body down with her arm to stop your squirming. “My Princess are you alright in there?” no. It couldn't be. Panic rose to your face, why must Pietro be visiting you right now? Not while his twin sister is between your legs. “I— I'm getting.. dressed! Don't come in. Please.” he was respectful enough to stay outside your room. Thank heavens door locks existed these days. “Wanda how are you going to get out?” you shouted at her in a whisper. “I'm staying malysh.” you widened your eyes, “what?” you quickly slam your hands over your mouth when to accidentally yell the last part of your word. “Just.. tell him that it's lady problems. He's too shy to ask anything else.”

She shrugged as she got off of you and put her gown back on. “..Pietro come in!” you call out to him as you tie the strings of your corset. “Princess! ... Wanda?” his gaze averted from you to his sister. “What are you doing here?” you squeezed her hand to stop her from saying anything stupid. “She uhm.. lady problems?” you squeak out. “Ah! I see. So I– I came to ask you about what gown you want for the wedding.”

Wanda felt a pang of jealousy strike her heart. Why couldn't she have you? What was so wrong with two princesses wanting each other? No. Needing each other. Why did her brother have to take all the good things she ever got close to in life? The throne. Her princess, you. “Oh.. right. The dress.. something white?” he chuckles, “obviously. But what design would you prefer printsessa?” printsessa. When Wanda called you that it felt so natural, so normal. But hearing it from his mouth felt so wrong. You wanted him to stop. “I– I think it's just better if you call me by my name Pietro.. and you can just pick whatever design you want.” he nodded before leaving the room.

Thank heavens he left. She was still in your room though, faint noises could be heard from outside the window, and you assumed night insects. Cicadas or crickets maybe? “Dorogaya..” you looked up at her with an innocent look in your eyes, she knew it was fake. Her gaze darkened as she stepped closer to you and lightly shoved you back on the bed. “Oh Wanda..” she lifted up your legs and placed them over her shoulders. “I want the whole kingdom to hear you scream with my head in between your legs.” she muttered before dipping her head under your gown. “Wanda.. my love wait–” her tongue already began parting your folds, earning a moan of pleasurement from you. “oh, you taste divine, Princess.” she whispered as she lapped at your wetness, basking in your essence. Your hands quickly flew to her hair, gripping onto it firmly as you bucked your hips against her mouth in desperation and neediness.

You were in deep, like when Alice fell into Wonderland. Wanda was your wonderland, you were her Alice. Was that so wrong? Was loving her so wrong? “W- Wanda slow down..” you gasped softly as she licked up all your arousal. “oh God.” your hand fell from her hair and onto her toned shoulders. The moment you felt her tongue swirl inside your cunt you lost it. “Wanda I'm going to—” your teeth sunk into your lower lip as you suppressed a rather loud scream. Your thighs clenching around Wanda's head, your fingernails scratching at her muscular shoulders. “You did so well for me printsessa.. so well.” she peeked up at you from in between your thighs, your cum dribbling down her chin.

“I love you so much..” God. Why do you have to marry Pietro? You wanted to marry Wanda. “I love you more dorogaya.” her breath fans against your skin in the cold room. Yet, both your bodies remain overheated. “The wedding is tomorrow.” she froze, hurt clouded over her eyes. She knew the wedding was tomorrow, but hearing it come from you, rather than her brother, just made it feel more real. “I know.. I– I've known.. I just wish we could run away, and leave this cursed kingdom. I wish to be with you. And only you.” she said, her hands interlocked with yours. “As do I, my love. I yearn to be your wife, your queen. Not your brothers.” you felt tears build up in your eyes as she held you close.

The cold night spent in warm touches went by quickly as it was already day. “Princess! You are needed by the maids.” you sighed as you walked out of your chambers and into the room full of maids. “Congratulations your majesty. I pray for a well marriage for you and the Maximoff Prince.” you feigned a smile through your pained heart. “Thank you. As– as do I.” you stood in the middle of the room as the maids helped you out of your clothes and into a beautiful white gown. “You look ravishing my lady.” you heard one of the maids say. “Thank you.” you bowed your head down with a tight smile. “She's not wrong, you look heavenly printsessa.” you knew that voice. You peeked up at the door, only to see Wanda leaning against the door frame.

“um– may I have a moment alone with my soon-to-be sister-in-law?” you squeak out to one of the guards. They simply nodded before leaving the room with the rest of the maids. “Darling.. what are you doing here? I'm not supposed to see you till the ceremony.” you say as you walk over to the woman. “I just needed to see you. Can I not see my princess?” you felt your cheeks flush into a bright red, “yes, yes you may.” she stalked over to you with a lustful glint, one that only you could tell, in her beautiful green eyes. “Wanda.. I– what if someone comes in? The ceremony is in an hour!” she picked you up by the waist and placed you down on the dresser. “Nobody will see us. Isn't that what you want?” you held in your breath as you felt her hands slip underneath your wedding gown.

“Wanda.. oh–” you let out a moan as she rubbed her thumb against your puffy clit. “shh.. shhh. You're getting married to my stupid brother.” you glared at her, “I don't want to discuss this right now W-Wanda.” she inserted two of her digits deep inside your throbbing hole as she leaned down to slam her lips against yours, quieting down your loud moans. “Stay quiet. You wouldn't want Pietro to walk in hm?” you widened your eyes and shook your head repeatedly. “No! No.. I don't wa–” your hand slapped against your mouth as she curled her fingers inside of you, hitting your sweet spot.

You wrapped your arms around her back as your nails dug deep into her skin, deep enough to draw blood even. “Are you close my queen?” you couldn't hold in the choked sob that left your throat, “oh, Wanda!” you cried out as you came all over her fingers, the fingers that were still knuckle-deep inside your cunt. “Malysh you did so well.. my perfect little Princess.” she whispered as she squeezed your hip.

A knock on the door left you panicked, your eyes frantic as you beg Wanda to let go of you. “The ceremony begins in 25 minutes Princess Y/N!” you looked up at the still, closed door. “I'll be out in a minute!” you let out a sigh of relief as you assumingly heard the knight walk away, considering the metal clanging noises fading from afar. “Wanda I–” she blinked back some unshed tears, “you need to go. But please just this once allow me to spill my heart to you my lady.” you let out a shaky breath and nodded.

“I love you, I adore you..” she let out a nervous laugh as you smiled and wiped away her falling teardrop with your finger. “And, I want you to know that– I'll never stop loving you. My love for you will continue from here on and after. If I were to be sent to another realm you'd be the first person I'd search for,” she sucked in a sharp breath as she noticed your eyes watering up. “My offer isn't gone, it will never be gone. You can still run away with me printsessa, we can leave this kingdom. Consider yourself a witch because.. you have bewitched me. I'm under a spell, a spell that can never be broken.” her beautiful green eyes were full of tears, and you could see her bottom lip quivering as well. You pressed your lips against hers, kissing her with utmost passion and love.

“Please, I– I don't want to marry him. I wish to marry you, my dear.. I wish to marry you! I love you so very much darling. Oh, how I long to be yours..” the moment gets cut short as a loud banging on the door made you break away from her and get off of the dresser. “The ceremony is in 5 minutes you must leave Princess!” you mouth an, I love you to Wanda as you wiped off your tears and fixed up your gown.

You got dragged off to the main hall by a couple of knights and a maid running after you with your crown. You could see Pietro, your future husband, and King, standing at the altar from afar. “Do you take Princess Y/N of the Y/L/N kingdom as your wedded wife and Queen?” Pietro looked over at you and softly smiled, “I do.” the man then turned to you. “Do you take Prince Pietro as your husband and King?” you slowly nodded, “yes, I– I do..” and just like that, you weren't hers anymore. You had her last name, except it wasn't hers. You felt tears streaming down your face as you saw Wanda excuse herself out of the room. “Queen Y/N and King Pietro maidens and men!” cheers and claps were heard throughout the hall, only to sadden you more.

The night lasted long, long till you were sent to Pietro's room— your new shared chambers, for the night. “You're beautiful..” you heard Pietro say from the bed as you took off your jewelry in front of the vanity. “..thank you.” you saw him get up and walk towards you from the corner of your eye, this isn't happening. “My Queen, I assure you I would never hurt you.” your lips stuttered into a slight smile. “I.. I appreciate that.” he turned his gaze over to the clock, “it's getting rather late, enough of this I'm heading to bed.” he waved goodnight as he lay down on the bed. You sigh as you watched over his resting body, your wedding dress and jewelry off, you were simply in your nightgown. “I'm so sorry..”

You grabbed your crown and jewelry in a hurry and stuffed them in a leather bag before walking out of the bedroom. “Wanda.. Wanda, Wanda–” your mind full of only her, and just her as you search for the woman throughout the castle. When you finally found her she was wearing a velvety red cloak, “I knew you'd look for me.” you clutched onto her shoulders as you sobbed into her chest. “God, I missed you so.” she whispered some words in a different language into your ear, Sokovian perhaps. “Are we.. are we leaving the kingdom?” you asked. “Forever.” she pecked your lips quickly. “You and I, til death do us part my Queen.” Wanda smirked as you both ran hand in hand, out the back gates.

Restless nights, restless nights the two of you lie together. The sun and moon couldn't describe you and her. She was the moon, you were the ocean. And she drove you mad.

#wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader

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understandingbimbos · 1 year

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"Whence Bimbofication?"

‘Bimbo’ itself is not a straight-forward word, because like all insults, it requires a viewer and a subject, between who they may be a combination of value judgments.

Widely believed to be derived from the Italian ‘bambino’, ‘bimbo’ broadly refers to be a person who offers nothing but their pretty face. Or sexy body, depending how crude you want to be.

Define the offer of nothing. Define a pretty face. Like pornography, everybody knows it when they see it, yet when pressed to codify it, you get a litany of edge cases, informed by media consumption. It’s only grown harder after the internet exploded the monoculture and media consumption became highly individualized and esoteric.

‘Bimbofication’, the process of become a bimbo, seems to have been coined by the moral panic over rock & roll in the eighties. Music videos appeared a promotional tool in the end of the 70s, MTV started broadcasting in 1981, and by the mid-eighties there was a market of parental resources warning that children would be corrupted by images of violence, materialism, and the sexual exploitation of women.

The most widely cited usage of the term ‘bimbofication’ is an article by Jon Pareles called ‘Sex, Lies, and the trouble with video tape’, which was actually a defense of MTV against the claims of Dr. Sut Jhally about its portrayal of women.

Pareles describes MTV having “two minutes of bimbofication per one hour” and this memorable phrase shows up over and over in discussions of censorship. Usage of ‘bimbofication’ drops off in magazine articles around 2000. Then, in 2009, there is a gigantic spike in usage as Amazon facilitates digital self-publishing and the web in inundated by ebooks with ‘bimbofication’ in the title and promotional material.

Nine years of collage, being torn apart and reassembled in the whisper-networks of the pre-facebook internet. A neologism goes from describing a moral panic to embodying multiple genres of erotic art and writing.

Perhaps that describes the origin of many parasexualities. In a society slow to discuss the complexity of sex, how do we learn except by imitating moral panics? Isn’t that what sadism and masochism were in the first place? People imitating the reviled authors de Sade and von Sacher-Masoch? Now we embrace all those supposedly corrupting us – pink pop music and vapid gossip rags and bleached blonde porn stars and famous sex tapes and trashy anime – using the language of those worried we would be corrupted.

I think part of ‘bimbofication’ is that it describes sexuality as a process, a becoming. A perpetual panic. A perpetual crisis. That can be a crisis of many things – religion, ethics, gender, social standing. Thus the narrative of transformation. There are as many ‘-fications’ as there are crises – whorification, slutification, stepfordization, nerdification, gothification, sissyfication, princessfication, etc.

Overcoming an internalized panic is always a crisis and how many of us are overcoming, even? The appeal of transformation, much like suicide, is to cut the Gordian knot within our soul.

(Excerpted from https://mcmdrabbles.home.blog/)

#understandingbimbos #bimboization #bimboism #bimb0fication #bimbohood #bimbofi #MTV

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deertism · 1 year

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ⓘ Princessfate !

» princess - fate

A gender under the genderfate system connected to princesses / being a princess and fate ; one may be fated to become a princess

coined by me ; req by n/a

#ⓘ mine #liom coining #liom term #liomreal #mogai #mogai coining #mogai flag #mogaisafe #lgbtq #mogaireal #genderfate

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l-e-g-i-o-n-losh · 10 months

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I love Liv's spiderverse design as itself but i hate hate the "design upgrade" comments that are really just being fatphobic about comics ock and even more than that i DESPISE the further disney princessfication of her design. If she has foot long glittery eyelashes and a button nose that is NOT olivia octavius.

#songs that the hyades shall sing #brought to you by some obnoxious shit i saw on pinterest

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peachximagines · 5 years

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Princess Five 3

Billy Hargrove x poc!reader

Word count: 1.8k

I watched Steve’s car to pull into the driveway. I had begged Hopper to call him over under the guise of showing my new wardrobe. I knew Steve was mad at me but I needed his help. I need him to explain so many things. I listen to the casualties downstairs before Steve ascends the narrow staircase to my room. I open the door without moving from the spot on my bed.

“Hey Five,” he closes the creaky door behind him. “I’m really sorry about last night, I was just real worried-” I shush him. He stops abruptly, raising an eyebrow at me. “Okay little shit, screw my apology then.” He smiles, perching next to me.

“I have questions.” I say, watching him process the words in his head. Steve’s face contorts from relaxed to confused very quickly.

“About?”

“When you were with Nancy did you ever feel really hot? Like did your stomach bubble like fucking magma?” He blushes, realizing something that I can’t even grasp.

“Yeah, yeah sometimes Fee. Why do you ask?” his voice was cautious.

“I get that feeling. I feel hot and shaky and I don’t know why and my crotch feels weird and-”

“Shut the hell up.” He blocks his ears. I raised an eyebrow. Why was this a weird discussion? I just wanted to know why my biology was screwing me over. And he blocked his ears as if my thoughts were being turned into soundwaves his brain could process. They’re already in him.

“You’re just like,” he sighs. “You’re horny.” He covers his face with one of my pillows.

“Horny? My appearance hasn’t changed much?”

“Five, do you know where babies come from?” Steve sits upright again, facing me. His cheeks were crimson.

“I know the process of procreation, I’m not that naive.” I roll my eyes, kicking him gently.

“Well, this feeling your getting is because you want to do the act of procreation, but without the kid part.” My eyes widen at the realization and it’s my turn to be embarrassed.

“People do that for pleasure purposes?” This was news to me. I wanted to have sex with Hargrove? Why was I never taught this in the lab? It’s a biological function that my body has the hormones for. I guess I never thought I would be the one to be procreating. Maybe the lab didn’t think I would even reach this age.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to do it. You can do it yourself.” He murmurs the last part. “It’s called masturbation, Five. God, why can’t your dad have this conversation with you?”

“Because Hopper can’t know I get aroused! He can’t know that I think about people in this way.” I bury my face in the pillow Steve had discarded. Oh God.

“This is golden,” Steve laughs, falling next to me on the bed. His laughter shook the bed. His inhales were contagious and I couldn’t help but laugh a little too.

“I don’t even know how to masturbate.” My thoughts sound dejected. Steve laughs even harder. He grips his stomach, curling into a ball.

“You sound so damn sad, so goddamn sad.” He squeezes the words out between gasps of air. I laugh into the pillow, gripping it tightly. “You’ll figure it out.”

The chilled air permeates through my layers. Hopper was sound asleep in bed by the time I left. I had Hargrove’s jacket around me as I trekked to the parked car. Hargrove was lazily smoking a cigarette against the hood of his car.

“Hi princess,” he stomps the cigarette out. “I like the jacket, where’d you get it?” His voice held inclinations of humor. I smile at him, giggling softly. He opens the passenger door for me and I sink into the seat. I watch him swagger over to the driver side. Hargove slips in and locks the door. He looks at me, really drinking in the sight of me. I tried with my appearance today. The thick coils of my hair were pulled into an afro puff at the base of my head. I laid my baby hairs like I saw other urban women doing in the magazines. Hargrove cups my jaw softly, tilting my head towards him. He looks in my eyes, leaning in. His eyes flicker down to my lips and back to my face.

“May I kiss you, Five?” the question filled my body with the new feeling of arousal. I hummed an affirmative and let my eyes slip shut. His soft lips press against mine. It’s not a passionate kiss like in the movies with reunited lovers. The position felt awkward and I’ve never done this before. I felt like I was completely thrown in the pool without warning. But the kiss was gentle and slow. His lips barely moved, but he gently coaxed me deeper into him. Lust and arousal bloom deep in my stomach and I let out a breathy noise. Hargove pressed deeper into the kiss, his lips moving a little more. He pulls away for a beat.

“Come sit on my lap, princess.” The command sounded more like a gentle suggestion and I found myself crawling over the low divider to sit on his lap. Hargrove smiled at me, his eyes soft but hungry. “So beautiful. So fucking beautiful.” He pulled me back to him for a deeper kiss. The fire that bloomed in my continued to burn and rage. I felt like my movements were awkward but he gently led me through the motions. Not forceful, but gently and carefully. I took a risk. I pulled away from him. His lips were kissed red and he was breathless just like I. I lean forward, pressing a kiss to the exposed skin in his chest. I wanted to kiss him everywhere that I could reach. I could feel his pounding heart against my lips as I traveled the expanse of his chest. Hargrove’s breaths picked up. He whispers my name like a prayer and I wanted to be his goddess. I wanted him to worship me the way I was worshipping him. I wanted him to feel like this only with me and I need him to only say my name with such need and desperation. This must’ve been what he meant when he said he wanted me to be only naughty for him. I lean back up, pressing our lips back together, the need for him growing by the minute.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight princess,” he whispers against my lips, “just having you like this, is enough.” he kisses me again.

“Having you so needy in my lap is enough. I bet you’ve never been like this with anyone, have you?” I shake my head no. “Good. I wanna be the only one who gets you like this. To only be this needy for me.” I press my lips against his again, moaning softly. I want the same.I push the thought to him, begging for him to understand.

“I bet you wanna be my only girl,” he whispers, kissing my jaw down to my neck. “You wanna be the only one squirming and grinding so dirty in my lap?” I whimper again, shaking. Yes, yes please. I hadn’t even noticed that our hips had picked up our own languid rhythm. “I’m gonna think about you when I’m in the shower. I gonna think about your sexy body on mine so desperate for me when I jack off, princess.” That was the masturbation Steve was talking about. He wanted to think of me that way? Good. I whine against his lips, pressing my hips harder against his. Hargrove’s hands travelled underneath the layers, pressing cold fingers against my hot skin. His fingers dug into my skin, massaging deep. I want to feel like this forever.

“You sound so pretty, princess.” He bites the skin on my neck gently, causing a gasp to be ripped from my lungs. I lean my head back, giving him more access to me. His mouth works, nipping and biting the spot until it was raw and tender. I want to whisper his name, I want to force myself to speak but not even in this blissful crazy moment I could bring myself to utter it gently. I want to whisper his name like he whispered mine as I kissed his addicting skin, letting him know that he was my god. Our actions were my new religion and I’d pray to him like he prayed to me. Hargrove’s thin lips retract from my skin, his tongue brushing over it gently.

“A nice little mark for you princess. So everyone knows that you’re mine now,” Hargrove seems satisfied. A mark? That’s evidence. Evidence of me running from the house in secret. Evidence of my misbehavior. Evidence that will build Hopper’s case and back to the cabin. Hargrove must notice my mild panic. “It’s okay princess. Cover it with makeup from your daddy.” He teases. “But when you’re out, when you’re away from him, I want you to show it off. Everyone needs to know.” I nod. “I think it’s time to drop you off.” I move from his warm lap and back to tge cold seat. I wrap the jacket tight around my shoulders, willing the cold to leave my body.

“I had fun, princess. We should do this more often,” Hargrove looks over his shoulders as he pulls out of the woods and onto an equally dead road. I nod, wanting to put my hand on his. He grips the gear stick with a grip of death. I hesitantly place a hand on it as well. Hargrove peeks over at me.

“If you wanna hold my hand all you have to do is ask,” He pauses. “Well you can’t really can you?” I shy away, pulling my hand back to me like I was burnt. Hargrove reaches out, grabbing the hand back and kisses the knuckles. He places our clasped hands on his thigh where they remain for the rest of the ride.

We turn onto my street. I point to my house and Hargrove cuts the headlights. I don’t want to pull my hand from the warm grasp. He kisses my knuckles again before he kisses me.

“Bye princess,” I wave before sneaking to the back of the house. I wait for him to leave the street before unlocking the door slowly. The door barely creaks as I push open the door. I look around to make sure the kitchen was empty and quiet. There was no sound. I close the door as slowly as I opened it and snuck up the stairs towards my room. I press my ear to Hopper’s door. Loud snores resonate through the room. I go into my room, securing my door. Safe. Fucking safe.

#peachximagines #billy hargrove imagines #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x oc #princessfive #stranger things x reader #poc!reader

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toruvi · 2 years

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You wanna know the best thing? Is that babygirlfication/princessfication of Levi is basically cannon

official art au, where Levi is being himself, he's the most......💥 you know?? It's totally him to be grumpy while wearing pink heart shaped sunglasses and to fight someone all manly while wearing those ?holografic? leggings

Lovelovelovelovelovelove

Sugar baby levi and sugar mommy/daddy reader????????????? 💳💥💥💥💳💥💳💥💳💳💥💳💳

I'd work my ass off just to spoil sugar baby Levi I'd go broke doing it I don't care he deserves the best and only the best and goddamnit I'm gonna give it to him!!!!!!

#asks #pwasoi au??? an au within an au?!#with the amount of research i put into learbing abt sugaring i might as well write it LFHDHDH

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innerconflicts-outermasks · 7 years

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"I want what's best for my people, same as you" - Roan to Clarke in 4x01 (Echoes) Is that like going to be a thing with Clarke and Roan? 😏

#clarke x roan #alwaysfallingfortheshipwheretheleadgirlgetskidnapped/tiedupbythebroodyguy #iwillalwayslovebellarkebutithinkipreferclarke/roanthisseason #beenobsessedwiththearrangemarriageandprince/princessfics #newtothisshipbutimlikingit #iseeitnow

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onkar · 2 years

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Heterosexual love essay

By: Raj Ratan Mala Photo by picjumbo.com on Pexels.com “It’s just a phase”Sure,Like ignorance could get reality erasedThe way coming outAdded motives to count me outJudging if its my “taste”.Sin?Absolutely,When they crawled under my skinSomeone whisperedLoving is a blessingLoving genderfree,A curse within;A prince kissing a princessFancy amour from a bygone age,A queen kissing a queen-Oh, the…

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yonnieelovessyou-blog · 7 years

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" So of course I forgive, forgiving you is the only way I can show you how much I love you"

-PrincessFables💕 @yonnieelovessyou

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wilbursprincess · 2 months

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Arranged Marriage With Princebur

Princebur x Reader

Warnings: Sex, mentions of sex, angsty towards the end :D

Hi Tumblr. I wrote this as a ‘crack fic’ (mostly just self indulgent) but was so proud I figured you all deserved it too :) If you’ve read parts 1-4 of my Princebur headcannons, then this is familiar, but if not, you’re in for a treat! This is very loosely inspired from one of my favorite books of all time, ‘The Giver Of Stars’ by Jojo Moyes.

Fic below cut!

When my parents sat me down one day, I knew the news couldn’t be good.

The king and queen of my country were getting older, and all the newspapers were talking about their son, Wilbur, soon to take over the throne, wondering who would be his bride. I’d seen him, a black-and-white photo adorning these articles, and secretly felt sorry for whoever he’d be forced to marry. The royal family was big on arranged marriages. How else would they get more heirs to the throne?

“We’re going to the castle for tea,” my mother explained briskly. “The queen was aware you’re her son’s age, and-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” I interrupt, gaining a sharp glare from my father. “You want to marry me off to a prince?”

My father smiles, though it’s far from warm. “Well, hopefully, if they take liking to you.”

“Have you considered I don’t want to be forced into a loveless marriage, just to be a vessel for heirs to the throne?” I say, both my parents’ gazes turning stony.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” my mother snapped. “It’s a great honor to marry into the royal family. Wilbur’s a good man. Handsome, even.”

Sure. Wilbur’s handsome, if you like the snobby prince look.

“Go get ready,” my father adds, getting up from the table. “Wear your nicest dress, and try and do something with your hair. It looks like you rolled around in a barn.”

“It’s so lovely to meet you,” the queen simpered, giving me a watery smile. “You look lovely. Just like a future princess should.”

Lovely?

The corset my mother cinched me into was so tight, I couldn’t take a deep breath in, a trickle of sweat running down my back. My best shoes hadn’t been worn in over a year, and they were slightly too small, with a blister already forming on my heel. The heavy makeup caked on my cheeks and eyelashes felt thick. Maybe this was why all the royals looked miserable all the time.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I say, forcing a smile when my mother nudges me under the table. “These cakes are delicious.” That wasn’t a lie, however, my father had stopped me from taking more than one. Probably on the grounds that it wasn’t ‘ladylike’.

The queen forces another smile. “Our cooks here are very talented, dear. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger when you marry Wilbur. They’ll wait on you hand and foot.”

I force my face into what I hope is an impressed expression.

I might complain about the chores at home, but I’d be bored silly without them. What would I do, just sit around all day? And wait, wait, did she say ‘when’?

“Did you say, ‘when’ she marries Wilbur?” My father says, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice.

The king nods. “We did. Your daughter is exactly what we’re looking for in a bride for our son. She has lovely composure, perfect manners, and we can tell Wilbur’s already taken a liking to her.”

I sneak a glance over at Wilbur, who gives me the tiniest smile. Begrudgingly, I had to admit he was vaguely handsome. Sharp jawline, refined features, slightly messy brunette curls, and sparkling deep brown eyes.

Maybe this won’t be too bad.

“They’ll make such perfect babies,” my mother adds, the queen nodding her agreement. Snatching my eyes away from Wilbur, I pick up my now-lukewarm tea to hide my embarrassment.

Nevermind.

“So it’s agreed?” My father asks.

The king smiles. “It’s agreed. We’ll get to wedding planning right away. Everyone loves a good royal wedding. It’ll bring the country together.”

I’d never seen such a ridiculous waste of money before. The newspapers were eating up any tidbit they could about the wedding, and all the headlines made me groan.

‘Wilbur’s bride-to-be rumored to walk down the aisle in a pure silk gown!’

‘The royal family reported to be buying the future princess an entire wardrobe of velvet and silk, complete with jewlery to match!’

‘Royal wedding to be decorated with thousands of roses!’

I did my best to avoid looking at the bold headlines on the papers that piled up on my kitchen table.

My parents were over the moon, helping me pack up my belongings in preparation for moving into the castle. Or, rather, they were deciding which of my belongings belonged in the castle.

“Why would you bring such an old dress? They’ll just buy you a new one.”

“Those shoes are dreadful. A princess should only be seen in heels!”

In the end, I ended up with just a suitcase of clothes, shoes, and the occasional personal belonging my parents let slide.

My mother decided to teach me all about how to raise children, complete with handing me a satchel of all my old baby clothes and teaching me how to pin a cloth diaper on an old teddy bear. She also had to give me ‘the talk’ about how I’d go about having these babies, which left me horrified.

“Don’t give me that look,” she snapped. “It’s natural. It’s how you were made.”

My father took it as his responsibility to teach me about royal etiquette. He’d once worked as a servant, and had decided it was up to him to drill everything into my head.

“No! Head up, shoulders back, heel-toe walking.”

“You sip tea with your pinky finger out! And stop slouching!’

Honestly, if they were sending me off to work on a farm, I’d be more excited.

“You may now kiss the bride!”

I force myself to stay calm as Wilbur’s rough lips brush mine, and the entire church errupts in cheers and applause. It was sealed. I was now a princess.

Wilbur offers me his arm, and I take it, letting him lead us back down the velvet-covered aisle. I force myself to relax and smile, waving elegantly to the people in the pews, just as my mother drilled into me.

He helps me into the shiny new carriage, drawn by two shiny white horses, flicking their braided tails. More velvet on the inside of the carriage, all the metal features pure gold.

“Is ‘congratulations’ appropriate?” Wilbur says, breaking the very tense silence.

I shift against the seat uncomfortably, the lace edges of my gloves chafing my skin. “I think so.”

“Well, then, congratulations,” he adds, slightly awkwardly. “And sorry.”

He’s sorry?

“What are you sorry for?” I ask, finally looking him in the eyes.

Wilbur sighs. “You didn’t ask for this. Neither of us did, actually, but you especially.”

The heavy silence is even worse when the entire country seems to be cheering us on.

“I promise I’m not that bad,” I offer, and Wilbur cracks a smile.

Neither of us speak for the rest of the ride, and when we arrive at the castle, two men dressed to the nines open the doors. I go to hop out, but Wilbur gently stops me.

“I’m supposed to help you,” he whispers softly.

Luckily, the photographers didn’t seem to catch my slip up, and I accept Wilbur’s hand to step out onto the grounds of my new home. My heels are hurting my feet, and I’m exhausted, but I fix a smile on my face and walk through the grand front doors.

“Well, happy wedding night, darling,” the queen says, kissing both my cheeks with a flourish and handing me a paper-wrapped package. “Just something to make tonight better for you both.”

I accept with a smile, trying not to think about what the package is, before turning and heading up the main staircase to Wilbur and I’s new bedroom.

Wilbur’s not in the room when I walk in, so I flop into the middle of the bed and cautiously unwrap the package. Something small and silky slips onto the sheets, and I unfurl the bundle to see a baby-pink, silk nightgown, the deep neckline and hem lined with lace. I hold it up to my body, seeing it barely reaches my knees.

The door opens, and I drop the nightgown, turning around to see Wilbur carrying in a massive amount of packages.

“Wedding gifts,” he explains, setting them down next to another huge pile I didn’t notice earlier. “Mother wants us to open them before we go to bed. And I have a suspicion-” he indicates a lot of tiny parcels. “-that I know what these are.”

Wilbur tosses them all to me, grabbing several himself before joining me on the bed to unwrap them.

“It’s shoes for you,” he says, handing me a pair of dainty red heels. “What’s in that one?”

I rip open the package and sigh. “A hat for a baby.”

He nods, opening the next one. “Some jewelery for you.”

“Baby shoes and socks.”

“An evening gown.”

“A baby blanket.”

“Some cufflinks.”

“Baby clothes.”

Wilbur gently stops me before I reach for the next one. “I’m detecting a theme.”

“Me too,” I sigh, showing him the nightgown. “Your mother gave me this.”

His dark eyes widen. “Thats…” he trails off, swallowing. “A nightgown.”

“Uh, yea,” I reply. “It’s a nightgown.”

Another awkward silence.

“Look,” Wilbur says, starting to gather up the gifts. “It’s been a long day, and we’ve still got something to do before we can get some sleep. I’ll clean up here, you go get ready, ok?”

Something to d- oh. That.

I nod, grabbing the nightgown and scrambling for our bathroom.

The nightgown is certainly… something.

It seemed far too inappropriate a gift from my now-mother-in-law, as I look at myself in the mirror. Everything is covered, sure. Just barely.

The lace scoops dangerously low in the front, raising dangerously high at the back, and is so thin, it leaves nothing to the imagination.

Now I see what she meant.

There’s a sharp tap on the door. “You ok in there?” Wilbur asks. “You, uh, ready for bed?”

“Yea, I’m good,” I lie. “Just, uh, putting on the nightgown.”

A solid 5 seconds of silence.

“Can I see?” Wilbur’s voice comes out a lot more desperate than either of us was expecting. “I mean, if it’s ok with you-”

When I open the door, his eyes widen, taking in every single inch of silk, lace, and skin. “You…” Wilbur trails off, eyes everwhere but my face. “It’s definitely a nightgown.”

My face burns. “It is.”

“You go get comfortable, and I’ll, uh, get ready.” He says, trying to sound casual.

The bathroom door shuts behind him, and I get into our new bed. The only upside is that our bed is massive, so it’s not like I’ll be spooning the guy every night.

I blink open my eyes as the bathroom door opens, and my new husband walks out in nothing but a pair of striped silk pajama pants, sitting low on his hips. He gets into bed next to me, hesitantly setting a hand on my thigh.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Wilbur murmurs, a caring note in his voice I hadn’t heard before. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

I feel a new but welcome warmth blooming in my chest, both from the pet name and something else I can’t quite put my finger on. “I’m ready.”

Imagining what would happen on the wedding night, and actually doing it, were two different things. Two very different things.

I expected him to do what he needed to do pretty quickly, roll over, and we’d both go to sleep. Something I’d just lie there through.

Oh God, was I wrong.

There was something otherworldly about our two bodies becoming one, so strange, but so welcomed. It made heat pool between my thighs, pleasure bubbling up between our entwined bodies.

I couldn’t tell if Wilbur was enjoying it, but the noises he was making… soft groans and whines. They were like music to my ears, adding to the tightening in my core, something I’d never felt before, but I never wanted it to end.

The spiral low in my stomach kept tightening, ecstasy running over my body as he kept rutting into me, tightening until it snapped. And when it snapped, radiating out from the apex of my thighs, it was like I was on cloud nine, floating in the clouds, far above the castle, the country, and the planet.

I’d barely recovered from the wave of pleasure that slammed into me when Wilbur lets out a loud moan, burying his face in my shoulder as I felt my inner thighs suddenly wet. The only sounds in the room were mine and Wilbur’s shaky breaths, trying to collect our composure once more.

“If that didn’t work,” Wilbur murmurs, panting. “Could we, uh, do it again?”

I’ve been living in the castle, married to my husband, and a princess for a month now. I still wasn’t quite used to it. Gone were the days I pitched in around the house and could come and go when I pleased. Now, I sat around in a castle, wearing lace, silk, and velvet dresses that made me feel frumpy. All there was to do was sit in the library and read. I’d loose myself in leather-bound tales, about far-off and imaginary lands, trying to wish myself to live between the worn pages instead of here.

“I’ve washed your nightgown for you, ma’am,” one of our housekeepers says to me, dropping off a loud of laundry in our room, thankfully interrupting the conversation the queen was trying to have with Wilbur and I. “I couldn’t quite get the menstrual blood out of it, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s no issue,” I reply, face burning as I take the neatly folded pile, avoiding the gaze I’m sure the queen was giving me. “Thank you.”

The queen shakes her head, continuing knitting something that looked, suspiciously like a hat for a baby. “It’s ok, dear,” she says, forcing kindness into her voice. “Maybe next month Wilbur will do his job.”

Wilbur snorts into his tea, making his mother give him a very stern look. We make eye contact over the rim of the mug, warmth blooming in my chest.

He’s on my side.

“That hat looks nice,” I say to hopefully break the awkward silence.

The queen grimaces. “It’s a sweater for a newborn,” she says briskly, making Wilbur hide his laughter with a pretend coughing fit. “Wilbur, are you ill? Why are you coughing.”

“I’m fine, mother,” he lies, gulping down the rest of his tea. “Why don’t you head down to the sitting room and let me and my wife spend some time together?”

She immediately brightens up. “Oh, yes, of course,” she says, packing up her knitting and giving me a wink. “Good luck, you two.”

The second the door shuts behind her, Wilbur groans, burying his face in his hands. “Does she only care about you as some sort of baby-vessel?”

I sigh, wringing one of my carefully-folded dresses in my hands. “I think so.”

Awkwardly, Wilbur leans over, carefully putting a loose arm around my shoulders. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t think of you like that.”

Blinking up at him, I feel a heat spread through my face. “Thank you, Wilbur.”

“Of course,” he murmurs, brushing a lock of hair out of my face. “So the… blood, it means you’re not pregnant, right?”

I nod. Wilbur’s face, inexplicably, breaks out in a grin.

“That’s good news?” I question, and he nods. “But, your parents-”

He shrugs dismissively. “Look, I had about as much of a choice as you did. Just because I have royalty in my blood, it doesn’t mean I like it.”

“You don’t like being a prince?” I reply, shocked. “Whenever I see you in the papers, you seem to like this life.”

Wilbur laughs, shaking his head. “That’s called ‘acting’, darling.” The pet name makes my face flush, though it’s not unwelcomed. “And now I’ve somehow dragged you into this mess.”

“At least we’re both equally unhappy?” I offer. “I promise I won’t mention this to anyone else. We can get through this.” I hesitate before adding the last word. “Together.”

Nodding, Wilbur brushes his lips against my cheek. “Together.”

“Wilbur, are you alright?” I ask, walking into our room a few nights later to see my husband sitting on the edge of our bed, looking pensive. “What happened?”

He sighs, patting the blanket as an invite for me to sit. “Mother’s been complaining to the staff about not getting her grandchildren yet. Apparently, she got pregnant with me the night she married my father, and saying I’m not living up to the family legacy.”

“Oh.” As much as I hate myself for it, my core tightens deliciously at the thought of Wilbur and I’s wedding night. “I’m sorry. I… parents.” I awkwardly finish.

“Parents,” he agrees. “So, uh, if you’re down, do you want to, y’know, try again?”

I nod immediately, a little embarrassed by how eager I look. “Sure.”

Wilbur awkwardly chews on his lower lip. “Did you… enjoy it? Last time?”

“I did.” I whisper. “Did you?”

He kicks his toe against the plush rug our bed sits on. “More than I should admit,” he murmurs. “I’ve read a lot of books in my years in this castle, so naturally, I’ve read about… that. If my parents knew I found those books, they’d be horrified.”

Surprisingly, I hear myself giggle. “Why would they be horrified about you reading about how to give them grandchildren?”

“Because those books don’t exactly see it as something for having babies. They see it as something to bring you closer to your partner, something that feels good.”

We’re both silent for a few moments.

“So, since you want to do it again…” Wilbur continues. “I know how to make it better for you. Do you still want to?”

I find myself nodding before the words even leave his mouth, reaching down to pull off my top. I’m left just in my bra and skirt, Wilbur’s eyes running all over my exposed skin.

“Can I take your bra off?” He whispers, cupping my breasts through the fabric. Even the hint of his touch makes my stomach tighten, and I nod.

His hand reaches around to my back, struggling with the clasp for a good few seconds before it pops open. Eyes wider than dinner plates, Wilbur rubs a thumb over my nipple until I groan.

“That’s good, right?” He asks anxiously.

“It’s good,” I reply, shimmying my skirt and tights down my thighs. “Do you want me to lie down, or-“

Wilbur nods, pulling off his shirt and reaching for the zipper on his pants. Just the motion of unzipping his pants makes the apex of my thighs throb.

When I look up again from taking off the rest of my clothes, he’s fully naked, chest heaving. I’d never seen him like this, and it’s not unwelcome.

“Tell me if this hurts, ok?” Wilbur whispers, tracing up my thigh and fumbling around a little before finding a spot that makes me gasp. His long fingers circle around and rub the little nub, the pleasure so intense my legs go weak.

“Oh my,” I manage to gasp out, that lovely tightening in my core getting stronger. “Please… don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, speeding up his touches and looking slightly smug at my blissed-out expression.

My hand grasps at his wrist so I can rub against his fingers, the ever-tightening spiral threatening to snap…

…And it snaps.

I close my eyes tight as I let out a long, low moan, hips bucking up against Wilbur’s hand as I ride it out, floating up in the clouds again.

“Safe to say that felt good?” Wilbur’s voice brings me back down to earth, and I’m disappointed when he pulls his hand back. “It’s going to get even better, I promise.”

While I’m still wondering how on earth he managed to do that to me with just his fingers, I feel him pushing himself inside me, everything so much more sensitive this time, and it’s wonderful. We groan in unison, his face buried in my shoulder.

“Can I move now?” Wilbur asks.

“Please,” I reply, wrapping my legs around his waist to steady myself. This lets him push in even deeper, putting pressure on the spot he’d been touching earlier.

Wilbur’s a lot less gentle this time, and a lot more vocal. A lot. Our hips snap together, and I let myself move with him instead of laying still.

“So good,” he murmurs in my ear, breath hitching. “So good, sweetheart.”

I wasn’t expecting another moment on cloud 9 for the second time in one night, but when the familiar feeling builds up again, I practically feel like I’m floating. It’s different than earlier, deeper and more intense, but just as welcome.

The second high is just as intense as the first, my back arching as I ride it out. Wilbur’s not far behind me, sighing as I feel my bare stomach suddenly wet.

“Sorry, I kind of…” he trails off awkwardly, grabbing his shirt off the mattress and wiping up the mess. “This is awkward.”

“You’re good,” I murmur sleepily, absolutely exhausted from the night’s activities.

Surprisingly, Wilbur cleans both of us up, climbing into bed and pulling me into his chest to cuddle.

“This ok?” He asks, and I sleepily nod.

He drifts off to sleep, but I stay awake, wondering why exactly my arranged husband could make me feel things like this.

Life keeps dragging along. Wilbur seems more distant and secretive, hiding envelopes in his pillowcase and burning letters before anyone else can see them. My mother-in-law keeps insisting I join her for tea every afternoon, which essentially means being extremely nosy and overbearing for an hour or two, drilling me on everything from how I carry myself in public to her ever-lack of grandchildren. My dresses keep disappearing after I hand them to the staff to wash, Wilbur blaming it on his mother.

One evening, I walk into our bedroom to see Wilbur in his warmest coat, a suitcase open on the bed, and two envelopes sitting next to it on the bedspread.

“I’m getting you out,” Wilbur says, smiling at me with indifferent eyes. “I’ve packed you some casual dresses and shoes, stuff nobody will notice missing. There’s money in that envelope, and a letter to my friend. He lives over the border on a farm, and he’ll find a place for you.”

I expect to feel a wash of relief, getting my life back, but no. All I feel is a tugging at my heart, a pang of sadness.

“You’ve got 10 minutes. Grab anything else you need, and I’ll take you as far as the border,” Wilbur continues, avoiding my eyes. “I’ll sneak downstairs and wrap up some food for you.”

While he’s gone, I quickly glance around, slipping the books on my nightstand into the suitcase. Wilbur’s done a good job packing my things, leaving behind the gaudy dresses and tasteless jewlery, slipping in my most-worn dresses and comfiest shoes. I change out of my nightgown and slippers, packing them and slipping on a warm dress, boots, and my heaviest coat. Fat snowflakes were falling from the sky, a chilling wind rattling the windows of the castle. This wasn’t going to be fun.

“Here,” Wilbur whispers, making me jump and turn around. “I couldn’t get much, but there’s some bread and apples. It’s better than nothing.”

He closes the suitcase, grabbing the woolen cap off his head and pulling it over mine. “Wrap this around your shoulders,” he tells me, handing me the thick blanket off our bed. “If we leave now, you’ll be out of the country by daybreak.”

I do as he tells me, nestling into the blanket as he wraps a heavy scarf around my face. “Grab your suitcase, and we’re leaving.”

I watch, dumbfounded, as Wilbur pulls open the window and leaps onto the steep shingled roof. “I’ll help you,” he promises, taking my suitcase and my hand so I can climb out. I lean up to shut the window.

There’s no going back now.

We walk all night in the frigid, unrelenting wind. My face, hands, and feet are numb, and I can’t recall ever being this cold before.

His friend hasn’t arrived at the meeting spot yet, so we settle into the shelter of a massive holly bush to try and rest our weary legs. Wilbur takes off his coat, placing it over my lap, and wraps me in his arms. Finally, I let myself cry, the hot, salty tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re ok,” he murmurs, tightening his hold on me. “Once you leave the country and forget about the past months, you’ll be ok. Your life is just beginning.”

All I can do is nod, continuing to sob into his chest. I couldn’t even begin to verbalise that the tears weren’t for our country or my old life, they were for him.

The time we spend in the shelter of the holly bush feels like an eternity. Just as the sun gives hints at appearing over the horizon, we hear the bumping of a cart, the snorting of a horse, and I know it’s time to go.

Wilbur loads my suitcase onto the cart, settling me down in the scratchy hay and nestling blankets around me. “I’ll be back,” he whispers.

I hear him and his friend exchanging a few words, the envelope being handed over, and Wilbur’s footsteps coming back towards me. To say goodbye.

“Take care of yourself, Wilbur, ok?” I say, trying to hold back the tears running down my cheeks. “What wil your parents say?”

“That doesn’t matter. Please, forgive me,” he begs. “Forget everything we did, forget the past months. I’m giving you your life back.”

He wipes away the endless flood of tears, kisses me on the cheek, and steps off the wagon. His jacket is still over my lap, and I press my face into it, his familiar smell washing over me.

The reins snap, the horse and cart rattling down the cobbled road, heading away. Away from my home, away from the castle, and away from Wilbur. Ahead? Whatever lay over the border. I had food in my suitcase and more money than I’d seen in my life. I’d find a way.

My eyes close, Wilbur’s face swimming over my closed lids, and I force the image away.

“Wait!”

I snap my head up as the cart rattles to a halt.

“Please, wait!”

It was Wilbur’s voice.

Dumbfounded, I watch as he comes running up the road, not slowing down until he reaches the cart, practically leaping into the hay and wrapping his arms around me.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he sobs. “Please let me come with you. I’ll leave my country, leave my chance at the throne, whatever it takes to stay with you. I love you.” His face is pressed against mine, slick with both our tears.

“Don’t leave me again,” I manage to say through my tears. “Please don’t leave me again.”

“I never will,” Wilbur promises. “I want to spend the rest of my life by your side.”

The cart continues to make its way down the road, every step taking us closer to our new life. Our new home.

Wilbur and I’s new life is everything I’d ever dreamed of.

Once we made it across the border, we moved into a tiny cottage in the middle of the woods on a couple acres of farmland. Wilbur ended up sneaking my most valuable jewels into the bottom of my suitcase, which we promptly sold to afford some things for our house.

Coming from a life of luxury, being waited on hand and foot, to living on our own in a one-room cottage was a shock, to say the least. Wilbur really stepped up, teaching himself to cook and clean so the housework wouldn’t all fall on me. With the money from the jewelry, we bought a bed, kitchen table, two chairs, and some linens. It was all we had, and all we needed.

I taught myself to farm fruit and vegetables, as well as bake bread and make jams out of our harvests. Wilbur bought a cow, thinking we could get a decent amount of meat from her, but got too attached and ended up naming her Daisy.

“It’s a real farm now,” he said proudly, stroking Daisy’s forehead. “But doesn’t she look a little lonely?”

The next addition to our farm was a chicken coop, laying us plenty of eggs for breakfast. At Wilbur’s suggestion, I bought some flour and sugar, and used some of the butter I made from Daisy’s milk and eggs from the coop to start baking bread and cakes.

I went to the market every week, selling my homemade bread, cakes, and jam, which brought in a significant amount of money. For now, our family was complete…

…Until Wilbur showed up one morning with a skinny stray dog, looking very proud of himself.

“She can guard the farm for us,” he announced, scratching her behind the ears. “She can eat scraps, too.”

Princess, as she came to be known, did not end up guarding the farm or eating scraps. She slept in Wilbur and I’s bed each night, licking the pan clean from dinner or chowing down on scrambled eggs that Wilbur made for her.

“This certainly beats the castle,” I murmured to Wilbur one night as we lay in bed, Princess fast asleep between us as the fireplace crackles.

He leans in to kiss my forehead. “It does. I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too.”

#princesswrites #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x reader #mcyt x you #wilbur x you #princebur #wilbur angst #wilbur soot smut #bursona smut #wilbur smut #dsmp smut #mcyt angst #wilbur mcyt #mcyt x reader #mcyt smut #princessfics

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big-pon · 7 years

Note

Princessfic Rim... Cadance? Does that mean we may see Luna, Twilight, and Celestia too?

That's exactly what it means.

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wilbursprincess · 3 months

Note

sorrybur had to wear pants cuz u teased him perhaps? then after he’s like all whiny cuz you’ve left him to record a video like that

“What Am I Supposed To Do Now?”

Sorrybur x Female Reader

Warnings: Heavily implied smut, making out, teasing, edging but not really ig?

EVERYONE WHO ASKED FOR SMUT OF THE GODDAMN YELLOW MORPH SUIT AND SORRYBUR, YOU’VE GOT IT NOW!

Hi anon. You’re a genius. This idea made me squeal out loud. I will never turn up the chance to write about a whiny Bursona trying not to cum in his pants. Enjoy :)

Fic below cut!

“Babe, c’mon, I have to go film,” Wilbur whines, and I pout. “They’ll all be waiting for me!”

I shake my head, tugging at the fly of his jeans. “I haven’t seen you in ages, and we’ve got time for a quickie.”

Wilbur only hesitates for a second. “I can’t say no to you, angel,” he replies, nibbling on my earlobe. “But hurry.”

I undo his jeans, lick my hand, and stick it into his boxers, stroking up and down his half-hard cock until he’s throbbing and whining under my touches.

“Just like that, baby girl,” Wilbur whispers, unhooking my bra from under my top. “Aw, fuck, you make me so hard.”

It barely takes a minute or two for me to get him close, his chest heaving and pressing up into the pumps of my hand to seek out the blissful release. I stop my hand, give him a few strokes, and stop again, just to tease him.

Wilbur moans in my ear, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. “I’m so close,” he gasps, eyes screwing shut as his face presses into my shoulder, and…

The door bangs open, Tommy barging in without knocking, luckily with a bright morph suit over his face. “Aye, Wilbur, where’s your suit?” He asks, unaware of me frantically trying to zip Wilbur’s jeans back up.

“It’s, uh,” Wilbur says, discreetly trying to hide the situation pressing against his zipper. “Just over here. Is everyone ready?”

Tommy nods. “We’re waiting on you, man, cmon! No more getting distracted with your girlfriend. I’m staying in here until you’re dressed and ready to go.”

Wilbur, I love you, but you’re on you own.

He sighs, quickly changing out of his jeans and hoodie and into the tight yellow suit, turning to me with a pained look on his face. The sheer, skin-tight fabric leaves nothing to the imagination after our, uh, backstage activities.

“I’m wearing my jeans over it, Tommy,” Wilbur says, tugging them back on and discreetly making sure everything’s tucked away. “I don’t trust something that tight around my dick on camera.”

Tommy shrugs. “Whatever, man,” he says. “You’ll look stupid, but honestly, it was a good humble brag.”

Wilbur and I exchange a pained yet amused glance.

I’ll owe him a month of blowjobs for this one.

#princesswrites #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x reader #mcyt x you #wilbur x you #sorrybur #sorry boys #bursona smut #bursona #bursonas #mcyt smut #wilbur mcyt #princessfics #wilbur soot smut #wilbur smut #very sorry

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wilbursprincess · 2 months

Note

Superstar bur or simpbur dealing with a bratty bottom w/ a breeding kink?

No I'm not calling myself out

💕

“We Both Know Who’s In Charge, Darling”

Superstarbur x Female Reader

Warnings: Dom!Superstarbur, Sub!Reader, Brat!Reader, blowjob, brat taming, breeding kink (use protection, kids), spanking, begging, praising and degrading, plenty of aftercare, is this the unholiest fic yet?

Hi anon… you called me out too <3 ANYWAY I’ve been wanting to write something along these lines for quite some time, but now that I have an ask… I have my coffee, new Hermitcraft to watch, and I am ready :D

I took a lot of inspiration from @clitsuckerer for the blowjob scene (her fics are some of the best I’ve read on here! Apple Of My Eye, Gamer Fingers, and Mommy Vibes are my favorites).

Fic below cut!

“Aww, look at you, all dressed up for me,” Wilbur coos, admiring the tight red dress hugging every curve, leaving nothing to the imagination. “Don’t you think it’s a bit long, though?”

I reach behind me, tugging at the hem barely covering my ass. “Very funny. How long until our dinner reservation?”

Standing behind me, I feel his hands trace down my waist, out to my hips, palming and squeezing my ass. “Long enough. What do you say?”

“Aw, someone can’t control himself.” I murmur sweetly, giggling as his gaze hardens. “Why don’t you try asking nicely?”

Wilbur smirks, lifting me onto the kitchen counter and nudging my legs apart with his knee. “Why don’t you try asking nicely?” His fingers slip up my thigh, tracing lazy circles. “We both know who’s in charge, darling.”

“Do we?” I retort, tugging on his tie.

Two fingers nudge past my thong, slipping inside me and curling to hit the perfect spot, making me swallow down a groan. “We do,” Wilbur says sternly. “I can feel how wet you are all over your thighs, darling. You really like to run that little mouth of yours, hm?”

“Whatever, you love it,” I say sweetly. “Or is that just something in your pocket?”

Wilbur doesn’t reply, just pumps his fingers in and out of me faster. My forehead falls onto his shoulder, his other hand reading behind me to help me ride his fingers.

“There you go, darling,” he whispers. “There you go. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

I’m too far gone to do anything else, my kisses turning into nibbles and bites as I get closer and closer. Just as my core tightens, the pleasure reaching a peak…

He stops.

“Wilbur, c’mon,” I whine. “Why?”

“Did you really think it would be that easy?” He says, amusement clear in his voice. “No, I just thought that since you like to run your mouth that much, you should be putting it to better use.”

I’m too frustrated to reply, letting myself be scooped into Wilbur’s arms and carried into our bedroom. He sets me on the floor, just in front of the edge of our bed, sitting in front of me and loosening his tie.

“Go on, you know what to do,” he says sweetly.

“And why should I?” I retort with a sly smile. “If you didn’t let me finish, why should I get you off?”

“Because if you do, then I’ll reward you.” Wilbur replies, starting to unbutton his shirt.

“Reward me how?”

“By railing you so hard into the mattress, all you’ll be able to say is ‘Yes, Wilbur.” He says, crossing his arms and looking smug. “Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

I oblige.

“Good girl,” he praises me, unbuttoning his fly and tapping his cock a few times on my tongue. “Aww, I love seeing you so eager to suck me off.”

Wilbur roughly grabs my hair, tugging on it as I bob my head up and down. My eyes water as he slides deeper into my throat, but I keep going, desperate to please him.

“Look at that,” he observes once I’ve got all of him in my mouth, not a small feat by any means. “You were being such a brat earlier, and now you’re desperate to take me all in your throat.”

Obviously, I can’t reply, face burning from how smug he sounds.

I let him use my mouth however he wants, his hand on the nape of my neck letting him set pace and thrust. I fight my gag reflex, spit dripping down onto my chin as he nudges deeper into my throat.

“You take my cock so well,” Wilbur murmurs, moaning in satisfaction. “Damn, it’s almost like you were made to, my God.”

The praise makes me wetter, squirming around on the floor of our bedroom.

I pull back a little to start stroking him, too, which, depending on how you see it, was either a mistake or a genius idea. A few seconds later, he groans and explodes, coating my throat, lips, and chin in sticky white.

Panting, I lick everything off my lips, wiping my chin, looking up at Wilbur and waiting for my praise.

“Fucking hell,” he gasps, smiling at the remnants on my face. “Get on the bed and take off your clothes.”

You don’t have to tell me twice.

I unbuckle my heels and tug off my dress and thong, groaning as I watch Wilbur’s shirt hit the floor, followed by his pants and underwear.

“Turn around, baby,” he murmurs, and when I do, he slides his arm into the curve of my waist and rubs himself through the slick between my thighs. “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

“Says the man who came about 5 seconds after I started using my hand in a blowjob,” I giggle, pressing my ass against him. “Go on, you were saying something about ruining me?”

His hand harshly slaps the smooth skin. “You little brat.”

“You love it,” I retort. “And you know I’m into getting spanked.”

Stinging pain hits the left, the right, and the left again. “You sure you want to play it like this?”

“Always.” I give Wilbur my biggest, brattiest smile over my shoulder, letting out a moan when he gives me another harsh spank. “Be careful, you don’t want to hurt your wrist.”

“Your ass is going to be red raw when I’m finished with you,” he says, giving me the hardest spank yet and smiling when I yelp. “It might not make you learn your lesson, but it sure is fun.”

I sigh happily. “Sure is.”

After one last slap, he slides his cock through the wetness coating my thighs, pushing himself inside slowly, the two of us moaning in unison until he’s fully buried inside me.

“So wet for me, baby girl,” Wilbur says, pushing on my lower back so my ass arches higher. “You look so good from this angle.”

“You sure it’s all in?” I coo. “Not sure I feel anything.”

He thrusts into me so hard I gasp, burying my face in my arms. “What was that?” Wilbur says dangerously, tugging sharply on my hair. “Say it again? Didn’t quite hear you.”

All I manage is a moan, and he snorts in satisfaction. “That’s what I thought.”

I hate how smug he sounds, but my head’s too fuzzy to complain. The only sounds filling the room are Wilbur’s groans, my soft moans, and the sound of bare skin on bare skin. He’s got a firm grasp on my hair, letting me bounce back against his thrusts so he hits me even deeper.

“Can’t run your mouth when you’re getting fucked dumb?” He taunts, tugging my hair to make me nod. “That’s my little cockslut.”

My legs feel like jelly, the only thing holding me up is Wilbur’s arm firmly in the curve of my waist. My knees are shaking so much that it looks like my entire body is quaking under him, and it’s clear he’s enjoying how much of a shaky mess I am.

“I’m close,” I manage to sigh out, groaning when Wilbur slows down. “What are you doing?”

He chuckles. “Since you couldn’t bite your tongue earlier, it only makes sense you want to keep talking. Beg for it.”

“Wilbur!” I say indignantly as he lets go of my hair and rests a thumb on my clit. “Please!”

“Please what, baby girl?” To really rub salt in the wound, he circles my clit a few times. “What do you want?”

“I want…” I swallow down the moan threatening to spill out of my mouth. “You.. to let me-“

My sentence cuts off as he lays yet another harsh spank on my ass. “What was that? You cut off.”

Frustrated tears prick the corners of my eyes. “You cut me off!”

“Life isn’t fair, princess,” he says lightly, flicking my clit a few times and laughing as my knees shake. “What were you saying?”

“Let me finish!” I finally cry out. “Please, let me finish!”

Wilbur pretends to be surprised at my answer. “Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

I’m too exhausted to even balk at that, not bothering to muffle the noises I’m making as he finally pushes me closer and closer to my climax.

“You want me to fill you up, darling?” He whispers, holding himself back from finishing before me. “You want me to breed you?”

“God, yes, please,” I moan out, practically screaming as he tips me over the edge and I ride out the waves of pleasure. Just as I’m slowly coming down from my shattering high, I hear Wilbur let out a long, low moan and bury his head in my shoulder as he spills inside me. The warmth fills me from the inside out as he makes no move to pull out.

“Wouldn’t want to let any of this go to waste, huh?” He murmurs softly, flipping me onto my back, replacing his cock with his fingers and thrusting his cum back into me. “There we go, sweetheart.”

His lips meet mine in a gentle, tender kiss, all the dominance gone in a heartbeat. “You alright? I wasn’t too rough?”

I sleepily shake my head. “You’re good. Are we late for the reservation?”

Wilbur nods. “We are. It’s ok, though, I’d rather spend the evening in bed with you.”

“But it’s with so many music producers!” I gasp, trying to sit up. “This could be monumental for you and your band-“

“No, baby, it’s fine,” he promises. “There will be plenty more chances for my band. Spending time with you is far more important.”

The soft glow of love washes over my entire body, and I nestle closer into his chest. “Are you sure?”

“Never been more sure about something in my life,” Wilbur murmurs. “How about we go have a shower together and polish off the rest of that chocolate cake in bed afterwards? Maybe watching a movie as well?”

I kiss his forehead. “You’re speaking my language.”

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wilbursprincess · 3 months

Note

Making out with Simpbur and mutually being super whiny and handsy. Bonus points if reader is lowkey kinda obsessed with him- Like she's been waiting for this moment for a concerning amount of time... I dunno; I just like the idea of Simpbur in specific being SUPER loud in bed.

-🦋

(I'm so sorry for blowing up your inbox- I just love your writing)

“You’re So Cute When You’re All Whiny”

Simpbur x Female Reader

Warnings: So much making out lol, reader gives Simpbur a handjob while grinding on his leg, both reader and Simpbur being so whiny and needy for each other <3

Don’t worry about blowing up my inbox, dear 🦋 anon! Any chance to write about Simpbur is a goddamn GIFT!

Fic below cut!

I’d been dreaming about this for months.

I’d had a crush on the cute boy in my lecture hall since the first day of class, when he walked in, slightly late, and asked if the seat next to me was taken. We had slowly gotten closer, and eventually, he asked me to lunch at the campus cafe. One thing lead to another, and he was finally here. In my bed, shirtless in grey sweatpants, kissing me everywhere he could reach.

“I can’t get enough of you in those sweatpants,” I murmur against his smiling lips, one leg hitched over his hips. “God, you’re adorable.”

“You’re so hot,” he groans in reply, tugging my shirt off over my head so I’m left in a bra and leggings, slipping a finger into the waistband of the tight black fabric. “Can I take these off?”

“Please.”

One of my hands is tangled in his curls, the other teasing him through the fabric of his sweats. He’s panting like a dog from the slightest touch, having this whiny, needy boy in my bed is otherworldly.

Wilbur finally gets my leggings off, slipping his knee between my thighs and slowly rubbing it against the crotch of my panties. This leaves his hands free to paw at my chest, groaning as I dig my nails into his back from the waves of pleasure radiating from my core.

“I love those pretty little noises you’re making,” I sigh, starting to pull his sweatpants down. “Can I?”

“Fuck yes,” he replies, crying out as I wrap my hand around him and slowly start to move it up and down. Every single movement I make makes Wilbur whine or groan, and he can’t stop himself from thrusting into my hand. He’s so loud, so vocal, so whiny, every sound music to my ears.

He’s completely given up on any kind of mutual pleasure in just a few strokes from my hand, but I don’t mind. Every groan, moan, or whine makes me drip, and I start rubbing myself on his knee in time with my hand on his cock.

“So… so good,” Wilbur groans, pressing his face into my neck and letting out a long, low moan. “You’re gonna make me… cum… in my pants.”

“I’d… hope so,” I manage, sinking my teeth into his shoulder.

I’ve never been with anyone this vocal or handsy with me, someone so unafraid to let me know just how good I’m making them feel. And it was so. goddamn. hot.

Just as I shudder and soak the fabric of his sweats, Wilbur practically screams and releases sticky white all over my hand and the inside of his boxers, whining and shaking as I stroke him through his high before collapsing on top of me.

“Oh my God,” he gasps, sweaty skin pressed against mine. “That was…”

“…amazing,” I echo, kissing his forehead and sighing. “You’re so cute when you’re all whiny.”

Wilbur makes a soft, contented noise in his throat, snuggling closer to me. His breaths grow slower and slower as he slips into sleep, and I can’t help but grin.

This is everything I ever wanted.

#princesswrites #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x reader #mcyt x you #wilbur x you #wilbur soot smut #simpbur smut #simpbur #bursona smut #bursona #bursonas #wilbur smut #wilbur mcyt #princessfics #🦋anon

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wilbursprincess · 3 months

Text

“It Was So Lonely Sleeping Alone”

Superstarbur x Female Reader

Warnings: Just a whole lot of soft, fluffy reunion sex. Enjoy :)

This was one of the blurbs I wrote for my personal fictober this year, with the prompt “Reunion Sex”. First of 5 blurbs from my fictober I like enough to post, haha! This one is inspired by my own Bursona invention, whom I call “Superstarbur” after my favorite Taylor Swift song Superstar! I know, I know, quite the mouthful lol.

Smut under the cut!!!

I sigh, stretching out my legs on the empty, empty sofa. Wilbur’s been gone for just over two weeks, playing multiple sold out shows all over the country, and I was happy for him. No matter how many cute little videos of him slipping my name into songs during soundchecks, half-asleep selfies in his bunk on the bus, or dirty texts detailing every little thing he wanted to do to me, I still missed him. A lot. I missed Wilbur so much I could almost feel his absence, like an aching hole in my chest.

In the absence of him in our house, I’d taken to wearing his clothes. Obviously, they didn’t fit me at all, hoodie sleeves draping far over my hands and almost tripping on the hems of his sweatpants. But I didn’t care. They smelled like him, a familiar mix of his aftershave, deodorant, and shampoo, which was the closest I had to Wilbur himself.

A car door slams outside, making me jump, phone plopping screen-down onto the rug. I shake my head, silently chatising myself for being so jumpy at such a small sound. Retriviving my phone from the floor, I get up the sofa, heading into the kitchen. Maybe tea would calm my nerves.

Setting the kettle on to boil, I rummage through the cupboards, setting Wilbur’s favorite mug down and dropping a chamomile tea bag inside, adding a generous squirt of honey before topping off the mug with the freshly-boiled water.

I hear a key slide into the door, snapping up my head.

It’s just Tommy checking in on me.

The door flings wide open, bringing with it the chill of night air and a spray of rainwater, and the thunk of a suitcase.

A suitcase?

Socks sliding on the wooden floor, I run into the front hallway, just as an achingly familiar voice speaks from the doorway.

“Baby?”

“Will?” My breath catches in my throat as Wilbur steps into the light. “You’re home?”

He smiles, looking absolutely exhausted. “I am. I decided to surprise you by coming home a day early-”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, I run into his waiting arms, not caring how the water from his raincoat soaks into my clothes. “I missed you so much, Will,” I murmur into him, and he nods, hugging me tighter.

“Fuck, I missed you so much too,” he replies, tipping my chin up and kissing me. It’s deep, slow, and soft; making my heart swell with love.

“Do you need anything?” I ask when we pull back some time later. “You look exhausted.”

Wilbur smiles, somewhat-wearily. “That’s quite an understatement. I feel like I haven’t slept the entire tour.”

I press my mug of tea into his hands. “Have this, Will, you’re freezing, and go change,” I tell him, ushering him into our room. “I’ll make you some food, ok?”

While he changes, I get to work in the kitchen, frying eggs, popping toast into the toaster, and mashing up the remnants of an avocado I found in the fridge.

“That smells amazing.” Wilbur’s voice makes me jump, looking up from where I’m flipping the eggs. He’s changed into flannel pajama pants and an oversized hoodie, the silly matching cow slippers I bought us last Christmas on his feet. “Fuck, I haven’t had a proper cooked meal in ages.”

I slide the eggs onto the avocado-laden toast, topping it with a sprinkle of red pepper flakes and my favorite bagel seasoning. “Here you go. It’s not much, but-”

Before I’ve even finished my sentence, Wilbur’s shoved a bite of toast in his mouth.

“You could maybe try not to choke on your first night home in over two weeks,” I tease, and he swallows the mouthful with a smirk.

“That’s the best meal I’ve had all tour,” he says, smiling. “I’m so glad to be home.”

I perch on the counter while he finishes his toast and tea in record time, entertaining him with stories from when he’s been gone.

“Do you want to sleep now, Will?” I ask, rinsing off the plate and putting it in the dishwasher.

Sleepily, he nods. “I didn’t sleep great on the bus,” he murmurs, looking like he’s about to fall asleep at the table. “I have a lot of sleep to catch up on.”

“You go get ready for bed, I’ll finish cleaning up,” I tell him, leaning up to plant a kiss on his forehead.

Wilbur’s already in bed when I get into our room, dozing while I turn off the light and snuggle up to his side.

I close my eyes, expecting him to be asleep already, and I’m not expecting him to stir, groaning and pulling me closer into his chest. “I missed you so much,” he whispers, lightly planting kisses all over my face. “It was so lonely sleeping alone on the tour bus.”

“It was so lonely sleeping here alone too,” I murmur my reply, playing with his hair. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

Groaning, Wilbur rolls on top of me, slipping his hands up my shirt and kissing me so hard it shocks me for a second. “I need you,” he breathes, squeezing my hips as his teeth sink in my lower lip. “I’m so horny.”

Giggling, I trail a hand down his bare back. “Are you, now?”

He nods. “Haven’t had any privacy all tour,” he gasps, rubbing over my nipples. “Walls are too thin on the bus.”

“Well, I’m all yours,” I coo, reaching down to palm at him over his boxers. Wilbur whines and tries to push up into my touch. “You wanna fuck me?”

“Yes, fuck yes,” he groans, fumbling to get out of his boxers as I tug my shirt off over my head. “I might not last very long. Haven’t cum for two weeks.”

I laugh. “No problem.”

His fingers trail south, thumb flicking my clit as his fingers pump in and out of me as he grinds on my thigh.

“Oh, fuck, right there,” I moan out, eyes rolling back into my head. I’ve had plenty of time alone in our house with my toys when I missed Wilbur, but even just his fingers felt so much better than anything I could do myself.

Wilbur pulls his fingers out of me, sucking them into his mouth and sighing in pleasure.. “You always taste so good,” he whispers, sinking his rock-hard length into me. “But you feel even better wrapped around my cock.”

His first thrust makes us both groan, my back arching as I feel myself stretch around him. “You fill me up so well,” I pant. “You’re so big.”

I wrap my legs around his waist, letting him get a better angle and thrust into me deeper, his soft moans in my ear making everything between my thighs drip.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Wilbur whines.

“I love how vocal you’re being, it’s so hot,” I moan, tugging at his curls. He responds with another loud moan, tugging me up so my clit grinds into his lower stomach.

The urgency of his hips snapping up to thrust deeper and deeper, all the beautiful noises he’s making, and the fact he’s panting like a dog tells me he’s close to his own climax, and if we hadn’t been apart for over two weeks, I’d be making fun of him right about now for not even lasting five minutes.

My own orgasm hits me like a train, and I press my face into his shoulder as I ride it out. When I manage to come back to earth, the sight of WIlbur’s face as he’s right on the edge of finishing almost makes me cum again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he cries out, and I feel him twitch inside me, spilling himself inside me before pulling out and releasing the rest on my stomach.

Before I can remind him that he’s just cum all over my stomach, he flops back down, all ready to cuddle. “I just came so hard and so much,” he murmurs happily. “I think my balls may be completely deflated.”

I burst out laughing. “You know you’re laying in some of it, right?”

He pushes himself off my chest to see I’m right. “Oh shit,” he laughs.

“You wait here, I’ll get us cleaned up,” I tell him. “I know you normally handle this, but you look like you’ve collapsed.”

After running some warm water over a towel and cleaning up the mess dripping down my thighs, I head back into our bedroom, kneeling on our bed next to Wilbur and gently cleaning him up.

“I love you so much, darling,” he murmurs, looking at me with soft admiration in his deep brown eyes. “You’re coming on the next tour. I can’t be apart for you for so long ever again.”

I lean in, hair brushing his bare chest as I plant a kiss on his forehead. “Even though we won’t be able to do this?”

“I’ll bribe everyone to leave us alone on the bus for a few hours whenever we’re in the mood,” he promises. “I’ll bring you out on stage every show and ask the fans to bring you gifts.”

“What kind of gifts?”

“Will?”

I smile down at my now-fast asleep boyfriend. “Goodnight to you too, I suppose.l

#princesswrites #wilbur soot smut #mcyt smut #dsmp smut #wilbur smut #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x you #simpbur smut #simpbur #princessfics

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