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playnextdoor · 7 months ago

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I adore you puppy

summary: you and caitlyn try a collar and a leash

CW: swearing, drinking, slight intoxication, dom! caitlyn, the reader wears a collar and leash, the reader is referred to as "puppy" but its not petplay, slight slapping (i love it idc), Cait is a little mean (whats new), reader's chest is referred to as 'breasts', fingering (r! receiving), not really proofread despite it sitting in my drafts for the past week

The thought of introducing your kinks to Caitlyn crosses your mind one drunken night. Red wine makes you horny and tired, and you stretch out on the couch, trying to look seductive, but in reality, it looks like you’re struggling not to fall. Caitlyn, practically sober as she watches you, finds it endearing.

“I’ve been thinking,” you say, slurring slightly as you sit up and sip wine from your sleek glass. Caitlyn’s eyes follow how your tongue traces the rim of the glass, lingering on your lips. You’re oblivious to the effect you have on her. She wants to take you to bed, cradle your darling face, and perhaps tease you a little. But her respect for you keeps her patient, she’ll wait until you’re sober.

Caitlyn glances up from her book, the candlelight casting a warm glow over the left side of her face.

“What do ya think..” you hiccup, earning a soft laugh from her, “of me wearing a collar?”You finish the thought as you empty your glass.

Caitlyn blinks in surprise and then shakes her head, chuckling under her breath.

“I’m not opposed,” she says, her body leaning toward yours. Her movement invites a kiss, and you meet her halfway. She plants one kiss on the corner of your mouth, then presses her lips softly to yours, letting it linger. Before she can deepen it, you jab a finger into her chest.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you mumble, your half-lidded eyes locking with hers. Her calm and composed expression only fuels your anticipation. She smiles softly.

“Yes, I think you’d look adorable,” she replies, taking your hand gently from her chest. “But I think you’ll feel better in the morning if you drink some water and lie down.”

Rolling your eyes, you leave her and stumble toward the kitchen. As you giggle, you hear Caitlyn’s quick footsteps behind you. She’s close, ready to catch you if you trip down the long staircase.

Two nights later, you waited for her arrival, just as you did most nights. The moon illuminated her room, highlighting its true size and casting a soft glow over everything. Your eyes lingered on the intricate mosaic paintings adorning the tall ceilings. The sheets on her bed, smooth and luxurious, wrapped around you like a silky sateen ocean.

Her familiar footsteps echoed in the hallway, each heavy boot fall growing closer. She opened the door gently, unaware that you were already awake, and your body turned toward her. You watched her undress like a creep, not that she would mind. Loosening her dark blue, almost black hair from its ponytail, a soft sigh slipping from her lips. Facing away from you, she began to undress. You couldn’t help but muffle your giggles as you notice her struggle, nearly tripping over her feet while shedding the multiple layers of clothing.

“Cait,” you whispered harshly for the third time, startling her. She dropped her eyepatch, the final item she had been removing. Clutching her chest, she spun toward you, her expression shifting into a defeated smile.

“Sorry,” you murmured softly.

She shook her head, silently dismissing your apology, and approached you with something hidden behind her back.

“I have something for you,” she whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. Despite her composed demeanor, she kept her voice low, as if the guards a few halls down might hear. “Take a look.”

You sat up in the tangle of sheets, and Caitlyn steadied herself by placing a knee on the bed.

She pulled out a small black box, just large enough to fit in her slim hand. As she opened it toward herself, she bit her lip.

“You’re gonna kill me,” she muttered.

When she finally turned the box toward you, your breath hitched. Inside lay a beautiful black leather collar, accented with a silver pendant. The shining cursive letters spelling Kirramman’s made your cheeks flush.

“Caitlyn! Have you lost your mind?” you half whispered exclaimed, playfully shoving her shoulder. Her eyes met yours, and her soft smile mirrored your embarrassment. Both of you blushed like awkward teenagers on a first date.

“I only asked one person to make it, and I promise they don’t know its intended use,” she replied, pulling the collar from its box. The protective cotton piece fell away, revealing a silver chain attached to the leather. She tested the leash, letting the metal clink softly as she ran her fingers over it.

“And what exactly is the intended purpose?” you asked, a devious smile creeping across your lips. You already knew the answer; you were the one who’d suggested it, duh.

Caitlyn shrugged, faking innocence. “To remind you of your place. You’ve had trouble listening lately,” she teased, her smug grin now firmly in place. Her gaze locked onto yours, silently seeking permission without pressuring you.

Her words sent heat coursing through you. Caitlyn’s authoritative tone, paired with the quiet, deliberate attention she always gave you, left you squeezing your thighs together.

“You need to tell me, my love,” she said, snapping you out of your thoughts. Her finger tilted your chin upward, forcing you to meet her eyes.

“Uhhhh, yeah,” you stammered, blinking up at her. Her tall figure seemed to grow even more imposing, towering over you as her voice wrapped around you like a command.

“No, no, no,” Caitlyn laughed, and you couldn’t tell if she found your reaction cute or pathetic—probably both. “It’s yes…?” she prompted, her tone expectant.

Her fingers trailed down from your chin to your neck, gripping it gently. The slight pressure made your breath hitch, and you barely suppressed a moan.

“Yes, miss,” you finally whispered.

"Oh, come on now, up," Caitlyn commands.

She sits gracefully, wearing nothing but lacy black panties and a loosely tied silky blue robe, her black eyepatch in place just as it was that morning. The way her legs cross so effortlessly has you shifting uncomfortably in your current position.

You're nearly nude, just your underwear and the collar you'd so desperately wanted to wear. Now, with Caitlyn checking on you every minute to make sure you're okay, the caress of her fingers over your cheek, the weight of it feels all too real.

You perch yourself on the sofa beside her, glancing up. She notices everything-the slight sheen in your eyes, the unsteady rise and fall of your chest, and the way the metal leash gleams as it dangles between you. Her hand remains steady on the handle, a subtle reminder of how she’s in control.

"You've been good, yeah?" she asks softly, her hand lifting to cup your cheek. You can’t help but lean into it. Her thumb brushes gently across your skin, leaving you warm and utterly undone beneath her touch.

You nod, but Caitlyn gives you a light slap across your cheek.

You nod, but Caitlyn lightly slaps your cheek.

“Speak,” she demands, her words sharp. You shrink under her gaze, feeling yourself grow small.

“Yes, miss,” you whisper hoarsely, your hands clasping together as they fidget, bracing for her next move.

“So, does that mean you deserve to be touched?” she presses, her hand gently soothing the heat rising on your cheek.

“Yes, miss,” you answer more firmly this time, earning a satisfied hum from Caitlyn. She pats her lap, her hand swiftly wrapping the metal chain around her wrist as you scramble to comply, nearly toppling over in your rush.

“Well, you have to tell me where you need me,” she teases, tugging the chain gently while you wiggle into place beside her. Her hand glides over your neck, collarbone, the curve of your chest, and down to your stomach.

“Do you want me inside yet?” she asks, her fingers trailing down your body, brushing over your clothed clit. The white, lacy-frilled panties she chose for you stand in sharp contrast to the black leather collar snug around your neck.

You nod eagerly, only to realize too late that you’ve made the same mistake again.

Pulling harsher this time, Caitlyn caused you to topple nearly over her. Her condescending tone makes you want to hide in a corner. “Really?” She asks with disappointment hints in her voice.

“I—” you stammer, scrambling back into position. The word sticks in your throat as the restraint tugs firmly against you. Her warm and intoxicating scent overwhelms your senses, leaving you helplessly melting into her presence. “I want you inside, miss. Please.”

She releases the leash and cups your face gently, guiding your gaze to hers. Her lips meet yours in a soft, healing kiss. As you kiss back timidly, she presses harder against your clit, making you hiss as the friction builds. You grind down instinctively, gasping when her teeth nip at your bottom lip.

“Take them off,” she commands, patting your cunt lightly to urge you. You slide off to the side, removing the damp underwear with shaky hands. Folding them neatly, you place them on the armrest before turning back to her, your eyes wide and glossy with anticipation.

She watches you with an almost possessive pride, savoring the sight of your desperation. Knowing she’s the only one who gets to see you like this—so raw, so eager—feeds her. It’s intoxicating. The two of you are unashamedly perverse, but Caitlyn always takes it further, and you love her for it.

“So noisy today, hmm?” Caitlyn teases, her fingers playing with your folds as your hips rock weakly to meet her touch. Your hands rise to your chest, fiddling with the collar around your neck. The sight sends Caitlyn reeling.

“Maybe I need to gag you, yeah?” she murmurs, her voice strained to match your breathless mewls. You nod eagerly, the movement growing frantic as she presses two fingers firmly against your swollen clit, grinding slowly and deliberately.

“Uh-uh, Cait—” you choke out, grabbing at the cold chain for comfort. The soft clicking of the metal and the mix of your moans fill the room. Forgotten, the leash handle dangles loosely from her hand as Caitlyn watches you lose yourself on her fingers. Leaning closer, she struggles to see clearly past her eyepatch, and you arch instinctively, putting on an even more shameless show for her.

Leaning back onto her hand, you take control, fucking yourself on her fingers. One arm clings to the headboard of the couch for support as you bounce and grind in a rhythmic frenzy. Caitlyn watches, captivated by the soft ‘o’ of your mouth, the slick, obscene strings of arousal dripping down her fingers, the way your free hand grips the leash tightly.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Caitlyn gasps, her voice heavy with desire. Her fingers move with your faltering rhythm, guiding you as exhaustion creeps in. She presses her palm harder against your clit, each contact pushing you closer. Caitlyn knows this move too well; she’s perfected it. Memories flood back of her chest pressed to your back, her fingers curving just right, leaving you trembling for hours afterward.

This time, you nod eagerly, her two fingers sliding deeper as your voice catches. The rough drag of her palm sends sparks shooting through you, pooling heat low in your stomach.

“Y’gonna come?” Caitlyn coos. You nod again, your wide eyes meeting hers, pleading. She visibly restrains herself from yanking your leash to deny you of your release. Sweat gleams on your chest as it rises and falls, your breaths uneven.

“Beg then,” she commands.

You whine first, and she tugs the leash sharply.

“C’mon, you can do it. What happened to my sweet puppy, hmm?” Her teasing strikes a nerve, the word puppy breaking you. Your body gushes in her hand, trembling.

“Please miss —Caitlyn, please need you.” You try speeding your hips up, but she's already steps ahead of you. Her fingers relentlessly speed up, and she can tell how much you like them when she slightly curves them. She watches as you plea and cry, head tilting back as she unashamedly watches the way your tits bounce with every thrust of her fingers.

“Cait— mm gonna,” you can barely get the words out as if this girl’s fingers can’t get any faster. The soft squelching of your arousal as her fingers splatter in little spurts over the sofa. You glance down and nearly come again at the sight of her fingers playing with your folds, your brain turning to mush.

“Holy shit!” a high-pitched sound cried out as you came, falling onto the back of the sofa. Caitlyn nearly dives onto you, fingers slipping out as she rubs soothing circles on your swollen clit. And all you can do is take it so far gone that you can't help but jerk every time Cait flicks your bud a certain way.

Your legs clamp together instinctively, trapping her wrist as you slump against the couch. Heart racing, you whimper softly as Caitlyn withdraws her hand, wiping her fingers before leaning in to kiss your cheek. Unhooking the leash from your collar, she steps away, grabbing her robe and the long-forgotten glass of water.

“So… puppy, hmm?” she teases, a smirk tugging at her lips.

You glare at her, cheeks flushing, which only makes her laugh.

“Enough,” you mumble, turning your face into the pillow to hide your embarrassment. Caitlyn trails her hand up your bare

back, her nails scratching lightly, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“It’s cute, no? I know you like it,” she says softly, her voice dripping with confidence as her fingers trace idle patterns across your skin.

You nod into the pillow, fidgeting, too embarrassed to face her. Caitlyn always teases you like this after your moments together, her confidence making it impossible to get back at her. But this time, she lets you be. Brushing back the hair covering your neck, she leans down to kiss the spot where the collar sat, trailing soft kisses down your back.

Her lips trail along your bare skin, soft and gentle, as she whispers, “You know, I love seeing you like this. All mine.”

Your face heats, but you can’t help the muttered response that escapes. “You’re insufferable.” The words are muffled into the pillow, your voice tinged with lingering embarrassment.

Caitlyn laughs softly, the sound low and warm in your ear. “Insufferable, huh?” she repeats, her hand wandering to lightly pinch your thigh, earning a startled squeak from you. “Pretty bold for someone who was just crying on my fingers.”

“You’re lucky I like you,” you mutter, rolling onto your side to glance at her, your lips curving into a small, tired smile.

“Oh, puppy,” she grins, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, “you’re lucky I fucking adore you.”

The words catch you off guard, leaving you warm and speechless. Caitlyn leans in, her lips brushing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss that sends a comforting warmth in your chest.

a/n: i apologize for this unintentional writing hiatus, life has been crazy. this was supposed to be longer but i got lazy and insecure lol, hope you enjoyed it anyway

#caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn smut #caitlyn kiramman smut #caitlyn kiramman x reader #caitlyn kiramman x reader smut #caitlyn x reader #caitlyn arcane #arcane smut #arcane x reader smut #orion's writing

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aweina · 2 years ago

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ᥫ᭡. good luck charm , mike schmidt ( fluff )

did you … did you just kiss me ?

tags major spoilers !! gn reader. tension. friends to ( ? ). mike being shy + awkward.

“do well for me, okay?”

mike blinks in surprise when your hands smooth over the noticeable wrinkles on his security vest — the comforting warmth of your palms melting through the black fabric.

all he’s ever done for the past few days was sleep heavily during his night shifts at the abandoned children's entertainment center, permanently haunted by the time loop of his younger brother — snatched from his youth and into the hands of a cruel stranger.

but he won’t tell you that, it’s more embarrassing to say he has slept through the only job willing to accept him.

“yeah, of course.” mike doesn’t elaborate further, much too flushed by your fleeting touches — every brush of your nimble fingers rendering his body hot and fuzzy.

you step away for a second until your eyes light up in realization. rummaging a quick hand through your pocket, a metal security badge glared over the warm ceiling light — the golden paint bruised in black blotches and dented from the grueling years of past security guards dropping it during their inevitable encounter with ghostly animatronics or even discarding it when they realize the horrors they would endured from keeping such a shitty, unfulfilling job.

mike won’t tell you that part either, for the sake of your sanity.

“don’t forget this too, you always seem to leave it at home.” your voice sounded so soft and quiet in his ear, too afraid to wake up abby down the dark hallway.

“r-right … sorry.” he nervously gulped when you gently tug at his vest. mike carefully gazed at the needle threading the cheap fabric that didn’t have his work title — all in effort to avoid looking at your pretty face. he tightly held his breath, unclenching his fists once in a while to ease his nerves. your breath fanned his face, the small details on your skin that were once blurry were much clearer with you so close — only he was too afraid to memorize them, in case you noticed his staring.

you pinned the badge into place and patted it down for safe measure, now completely satisfied with his more presentable look. mike huffs a deep, loud breath when you finally back away — eliciting a pleased brow at his adorable act to hold his breath. mike immediately sputtered at the embarrassingly loud gush that escaped his lips, quickly padding towards his backpack and keys — avoiding you as much as he could.

he darts towards the front door, his sweaty hand that gripped tightly around the backpack straps now hovered over the door handle. mike felt you linger behind him, much more distant and friendly to his own liking.

“i’ll see you in the morning?” mike mumbled with an ounce of hope, terrified that he made things awkward between the two of you.

you nodded enthusiastically, coming up to the door beside him to latch onto the door handle as well — soft fingers intertwining with his much more clammy ones.

“morning. with breakfast.” you quietly promised with a tooth aching smile. mike couldn’t help but sigh in relief, lazily smiling back at you.

the two you opened the door with a simple click on the lock, your hand still wrapped around his. the midnight air nip at his skin, calming the reddening blush that colored his cheeks and ears.

the heat flowed back to his face once again when he felt your balmy lips suddenly pressed against the corner of his mouth, your soft cheek grazing against his stubbled jaw. mike swore that his vision became hazy for a second.

“i’ll miss you mike.” you breathed, the frosty breeze passing through your lips like intoxicating smoke. before he could utter a reply, you closed the door with a loud click — your shadow filtering through the white curtains seemingly disappearing deeper into his home.

mike stood in front of his house in shock, lightly grazing his hand over the kiss mark that seemed to settle over his mouth — the ghostly touch of your lips now haunting his memory. still dazed in shock, he steadily makes his way towards his car — using his house key to unlock the damn thing all while dumbly missing the keyhole.

letting out a breath that he was holding onto, mike exhaled loudly as his consciousness slowly flooded back into his brain.

“shit.” he finally slurred out as he softly banged his fist onto the roof of his car, pressing his forehead defeatedly against the smudged window.

today he won’t use his pills. not when the feeling of your soft lips and your weirdly intimate farewell will keep him wide awake throughout his whole shift.

add. note : okay but why does everybody hate him in the movie ?! he deserves some love and fluff in his life (￣□￣」) …

#.୨୧ ina writes #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf movie #fnaf movie x reader #fnaf x reader #michael afton x reader #( ? )#five nights at freddy's #fnaf #josh hutcherson #.purple mark

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o0sleepingdead0o · 1 year ago

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Prepared for Anything

Part 2, MasterPost

Danny stared at the ceiling, bored, as the creepy clown laughed manically at a camera. Danny hadn’t been in this dimension for two minutes, (he’d portalled directly into Joker’s hideout) before he was promptly tied to a chair. He could get out of it easily.

Thing was, there were others here, restrained more thoroughly than Danny. They wore colourful, armoured suits and were obviously the vigilantes/heroes of this. . .place—Gotham? Danny’d heard the name mentioned a few times now—This Freakshow wannabe was obviously one of their villains.

Danny had been hoping someone would show up without having to draw attention to himself. What was this dimension’s stance on halfas? Or ghosts?

But no one had come yet, it had been an hour, and he was getting stiff from sitting here so long without being able to move his limbs.

Danny heaved a loud, exasperated sigh-groan at the ceiling. The guy, face-painted like a toddler who’d gotten into their parent’s make-up, suddenly stopped monologuing.

Good. It was getting annoying.

“Are you done yet?” Danny complained much like the impatient teenager he was. “I’ve got crap to do, wrap it up, would you?”

Danny came here to explore. He was not exploring. He should be exploring and it was all this dude’s fault.

Danny supposed he could go all ghost on him and bounce, but he came all this way. It wasn’t much of hassle, but still. Danny was stubborn. He knew this.

The warehouse was silent. The creepo wasn’t talking, anymore, he wasn’t doing anything, and Danny deigned to lift his head from where it’d been thrown back on the chair.

The costumed people were looking at him in horror.

Danny wasn’t sure why.

The walking fashion disaster began to cackle with condescending amusement.

Yeah, okay, whatever.

Danny ignored the man’s delve into something about Danny’s impending doom, or threatening him with pain, and something, something, something. Something about broken this, burning that, yada, yada yada, when Danny got an idea.

Behind the chair where his hands were bound, knowing no one was behind him, he quietly broke the ropes on his wrists. The vigilantes—a red one with bandoliers crossing over his chest and one who wore a largely grey and black suit with an R emblem on the left side of his chest—were valiantly trying to dissuade the psycho to leave Danny alone, who now realized the said psycho was coming towards him, carrying a crowbar.

How original.

The Joker, as Danny heard someone call him at some point, he’s not sure when, leaned in close. His breath stank.

Danny made a disgusted face. “Do you not brush your teeth at all? Gross, dude.”

“You won’t be mak—“

Danny punched him in the jaw. The guy went down pretty easily.

Danny made an annoyed noise as he bent down to untie his ankles from the chair legs. He muttered to himself. “Stupid villains, always gotta get in the way, why can’t I just have one nice vacation, huh?”

“How did you do that?”

Danny looked up at the red one. “Do what?” He asked, standing and stretching with satisfying pops.

“Get free.”

“Oh. . .” Danny reached into his hoodie sleeve and pulled out a small hand saw. He guessed he coulda used a knife, but it was the first thing he'd thought of.

The guy spluttered. “You just keep a saw in your sleeve?”

“Yep.” Danny popped the P. No need for them to know he can make portals. As tiny as needed. “You guys want help out of those, or what?” Danny gestured to the chains keeping the two bound on the floor.

“No, Joker’s goons outside probably has the keys, we have back-up. . . .coming. . . .where did you get that?”

Danny didn’t miss a beat as he crouched to get a grip on the chain with the large pair of bolt cutters. “Ah, ya know, never leave home without a good pair of bolt cutters.” He offered. The room they were in was pretty bare, saying he found it “lying around” wouldn’t work. It’d be pretty obvious.

“That is absurd.” The younger one said. “Where did they come from?”

Danny snapped the red one free and moved onto the angry eyebrows one. How did they still emote so well through those masks? “Just had it on hand.”

“But wh—“

“Oh look! There ya go! I gotta go, nice being held hostage with y'all.” Danny ignored their calls for him, climbing out of the nearest window and disappearing.

#danny phantom #dpxdc fanfic #crossover fic #dimension travel #BAMF danny fenton #tim drake wayne #damian wayne

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astrcmoni · 2 months ago

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༄sucia༄

MASTERLIST

▹sucia ~ kehlani

synopsis: after the final curtain falls on your set, you find a new rhythm in the hush between jazz notes and gasps—wrapped in silk, skin, and your fiancée billie’s hands. in the quiet, she teaches you worship, and you teach her how to crave slow.

pairing: burlesque!fem!reader x billie eilish

genre: smut

wc: 9.4k

warnings: alcohol, teasing, oral sex (b! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), mentions of cigarettes, let me know if i’m forgetting anything!

author’s note: can’t believe it took me a month to write this. i highly suggest for you to listen to the song to understand the tone of the story.

the speakeasy shimmered like a secret too good to keep.

hidden beneath the bones of an old hotel, it breathed in velvet and candlelight, steeped in sweat and anticipation. the room was all smoke and satin, heavy with perfume, jazz, and unspoken things. it wasn’t the kind of place you stumbled into—it was the kind of place you earned your way inside.

there she was, sat in the far corner of a booth.

the velvet cushions clung to her like memory, her frame tucked low into the shadows, legs crossed beneath the table like she had all the time in the world. one hand toyed with the stem of a half-melted glass, the amber liquor inside catching glints of the stage lights like it, too, was waiting. the low hum of jazz vibrated through the walls like a second heartbeat, but she wasn’t listening. not really.

her eyes were locked on the stage.

on the hush before something holy.

the music dipped.

a shift so smooth it felt like sin—something slower now, more dangerous, thick with bass and suggestion. the lights melted into a haze of deep red and smoldering gold, a dusk painted across velvet. smoke began to unfurl from the floorboards, heavy and deliberate, curling slow around ankles and heels, crawling toward the ceiling like it had secrets of its own.

billie leaned forward, slow and deliberate, as if pulled by a string only she could feel.

her glass hovered near her lips, but she didn’t drink.

couldn’t.

the velvet curtain peeled back with the hush of breath held too long.

and you emerged—

barely a sound, barely a step. like a secret whispered into skin.

your presence flooded the stage like warm liquor down the throat, like dusk falling too fast.

your skin gleamed under the lazy lights, slick and golden, as though you’d been dipped in sunlight and slow fever. even the air around you seemed to bend.

you didn’t walk.

you arrived.

and billie? she forgot how to breathe.

your outfit was western temptation made flesh: a red velvet corset sculpted tight, boned and curved like a prayer answered too late. gold rope laced the seams with the promise of undoing. red stones glittered across your chest, catching the light with every slow roll of your hips, like fire had decided to wear diamonds. the neckline dipped, sinful and sweet, inviting the eye and daring the heart.

your shoulders—sharp, exaggerated—spoke of theater and danger, of power hidden behind lace. long ruby gloves traced the line of your arms, and your boots, thigh-high and slow-striding, echoed against the stage like gunshots wrapped in silk. a wide-brimmed western hat dipped low, casting your eyes in shadow, but your smirk sliced through the dark like a blade.

this wasn’t for them.

it never was.

your gaze yearned for her instantly—threaded through the dark like a compass needle to its north.

you tilted your head, just so, letting the lights catch the high curve of your cheekbone, the gold dust clinging to your collarbone. your lips parted, not to speak, but to taste the moment.

and billie—

billie was a prayer on the verge of being answered and undone.

her breath caught in her throat.

“fuck,” she whispered, barely audible over the music.

you smirked wider.

as if you heard it.

as if you knew.

you placed one hand on your hip, the other dragging the tip of your glove down the curve of your thigh, letting the anticipation stretch, elastic and aching. every movement was molasses—slow, deliberate, aching with control.

“she’s gonna ruin me,” billie murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

and maybe she already had.

you took another step.

and another.

the stage wasn’t a stage anymore. it was a battlefield. it was a bedroom. it was a confession booth.

and every eye was on you.

but your eyes—your eyes were only for her.

the one who wore your name like a wound beneath her ribs.

the one who sat there now, undone and worshiping, not sure whether to pray or misbehave.

maybe both.

because the thing about devotion is—it never comes clean.

and tonight, neither would you. your eyes scanned the room, not looking for strangers—no. you were searching for your mark. your muse. your prospect.

and once you found her, once your gaze collided with billie’s across the smoke-drenched distance—you didn’t look away.

you lingered.

you stared straight through the haze and into her soul, like you knew every secret she tried to bury in the dark. like you could see the trembling heartbeat hidden behind her ribcage. it made her shift in her seat, jaw tightening, her spine pressing deeper into the velvet cushion like she could escape the weight of you.

she couldn’t.

your eyes pinned her in place. your attention alone touched her—more intimate than hands, more invasive than breath. one ringed finger twitched against the fogged edge of her glass.

you moved with the music, letting it pour into your bones, letting it pull you like silk across skin.

your hands slid from the tops of your shoulders, trailing slowly, deliberately down your arms—like you were memorizing yourself for her. soft caresses curved over your body, fingertips grazing the outline of temptation wrapped in velvet and gold.

each step was a tease.

measured. smooth. deliberate.

your hips swayed with a rhythm all your own, fringe swishing around your thighs like it had its own pulse—like even the fabric was desperate to touch you.

you slid one gloved hand down the slope of your waist, trailing slow over the curve of your hip. languid, sensual, almost cruel in how little it gave. someone gasped—but you didn’t flinch.

because your eyes never left hers.

blue met fire.

and something ancient stirred.

desire bloomed in the space between you, thick and smoky, unspoken but undeniable—simmering low like embers waiting for breath.

you reached the edge of the stage and descended slowly, deliberately dropping to your knees in a fluid motion that made the room forget how to breathe.

your thighs parted, unapologetic, claiming space.

your body leaned back with the poise of something divine, the gloss on your lips catching the lights above—molten, mirror-like, wicked. they parted, just barely.

not into a smile.

but a promise.

the crowd was still.

not in reverence.

but in need.

someone’s drink clinked faintly—but billie didn’t blink.

didn’t dare.

you lifted your arm, slow and sinuous, fingers curling into the edge of your glove like it was a vow you were about to betray.

the fabric clung to you.

and you let it.

dragging it free with painstaking patience, revealing skin inch by inch—warm, glistening, kissed by the spotlight and sweat.

the glove sighed against you, slipping like silk over the curve of your wrist, the slope of your forearm, until it fluttered to the stage like something sacred that had outlived its purpose.

your other hand rose to help, slower still, tugging past each knuckle like it hurt to part with the fabric. the lights caught on your nails—long, sharp, lacquered obsidian tipped in blood-red stones, sparkling like they had stories to tell.

they looked like claws meant to carve out sin.

like they’d been made to leave marks in someone’s back.

when the thread of the glove snagged on the tip of your acrylics, you didn’t flinch.

you twirled it once—delicate, decadent—before letting it fall.

and then came the second.

dragged between your teeth with a growl so quiet it felt like thunder.

your eyes stayed locked on hers the whole time, unblinking, daring her.

daring her to want more.

and more she did.

god, she did.

your fingers flexed—slow, deliberate—letting the light play along each wicked edge, letting every glint, every movement tell its own story.

you unfurled your legs like silk spilling from a torn ribbon, rising smooth from the floor and stepping off the stage mid-song. the lights followed you like they knew better.

your boots clicked against the polished wood, each step a countdown.

the crowd parted without being asked—held back by reverence, or fear, or lust. maybe all three.

but you never looked at them.

you didn’t need to.

your eyes were still tethered to hers, like gravity bent for you.

billie couldn’t move. couldn’t think.

the music swelled around her, but it all sounded distant now—muted by the blood rushing through her ears.

she sank further into the booth as you approached, her heart slamming against her ribs like it wanted out.

you didn’t speak.

your hands settled on the curve of your hips, head tilted just so, that smirk teasing the edge of your mouth like you were already laughing at the mess she was becoming.

your gaze roved over her, slow and assessing—like you were deciding what part of her to touch first.

and god, did she want to be touched.

her voice barely made it past her throat.

“you’re gonna fucking kill me,” she breathed.

you leaned in, low enough that only she could hear.

your lips brushed the shell of her ear.

“then die slow,” you whispered, your breath hot, honeyed, dangerous. “and beg for it.”

her knees nearly buckled—and she wasn’t even standing.

because in that moment, she didn’t care if this was performance or possession.

all she knew was this:

you had her.

and you weren’t letting go.

reaching one hand forward, you flicked your wrist with elegant precision, pointing wordlessly toward her lap. it wasn’t a question, not really—it was an ask stitched in velvet and authority. your eyes never wavered. and hers, after trailing the line of your arm, flicked back up to your face.

she nodded. once. slow.

and with the same agonizing grace that made the stage tremble beneath your heels, you lifted one thigh and slid it over hers.

you straddled her.

and the crowd dissolved into smoke and shadow.

the music murmured around you, low and sticky, lyrics swirling through the room like perfume, like heat, like prophecy.

you lowered yourself into her lap with purpose. slow. your weight settling onto her thighs in a way that made her breath stutter. skin meeting denim—heat blooming between you like fire licking at gasoline.

billie inhaled sharp and shallow, her hands twitching against her sides. she didn’t touch.

couldn’t.

you hadn’t given her permission.

you had her leashed with a glance, and she wore it like worship.

your fingertips skimmed the side of her neck, featherlight, and her lashes fluttered in response. a hitch in her breath, a flush across her cheeks.

you traced her collarbone, the hollow dip of it, the slope that led to her throat. and there, just below her jaw, you rested your thumb.

you could feel her pulse thrum against it—quick, frantic, betraying her restraint.

her jaw clenched.

you leaned in again, lips close enough to be mistaken for contact, but not quite. your breath skimmed over her skin like silk drawn across a blade.

her chest rose faster now, tighter beneath the fabric of her shirt, caught between want and control.

“you’re doing so good, baby,” you whispered, the words dripping into her ear like honey laced with something sharper. your lips ghosted the shell, not quite touching—just letting her ache for it.

her fists balled tight against her thighs, knuckles straining white. she was trembling with effort, trying not to pull you close, not to ruin the delicious pace you’d crafted with every movement.

you smiled against her skin. a smile that knew the chaos it caused. soft. sharp. both.

and then your lips began to echo the lyrics—your voice low and liquid, smoky with desire but smooth as cream.

“you ain’t gotta tell me what you like,” you murmured, dragging each word like velvet over bare skin. “she say it for you…”

your fingers slid lower, slow and playful, picking at the hem of her shirt. you slipped beneath it with ease, skin meeting skin, heat meeting heat. her stomach was feverish to the touch—every inch of her radiating a kind of tension that vibrated beneath your palms.

you squeezed the flesh at her sides, just enough to ground her. just enough to let her know she was still real, still in her body—barely.

your hands climbed higher, returning to rest just under her chest, fingers splayed and waiting.

“i just wanna fuck you ’til you cry,” you purred, watching her reaction, “vintage dior you…”

your hand drifted back to her throat, fingers dancing, teasing. your thumb found her bottom lip and brushed over it gently.

you smiled again. wicked and warm.

her mouth parted under your touch—instinct. surrender.

your eyes flicked toward her drink, untouched and sweating on the table, and before she could process it, you leaned back.

she caught you instantly, arms looping behind your back, anchoring you. her reflexes spoke for her body, not her brain.

you let her hold you, only for a beat.

then you reached for the glass—cold and glistening with condensation. ruby-red liquid sloshing gently within.

you brought it to your lips first, letting the chilled rim kiss them. then the fruit—some bright citrus wedge sugar-rimmed and ruby-pink—met your mouth.

you let it linger.

you dragged it between your teeth slowly, biting into the flesh until juice welled up. it spilled, slick and sweet, onto the seam of your lips.

billie’s eyes never left your mouth.

she was focused, transfixed, locked into the movement, the sheen, the drip.

you set the glass down next to her thigh and leaned in again, lifting the bitten fruit.

your free hand rose to her throat, thumb and forefinger tilting her head gently, reverently.

then you squeezed—just enough.

juice dripped.

a single bead of it slid from the fruit’s flesh and landed right on her bottom lip.

billie gasped—soft, breathy.

your thumb caught the juice and smeared it across her lips. slow.

not to clean.

to paint.

you glazed her mouth in citrus and suggestion, pressing it in like a ritual.

you reached for the glass again, letting the ice clink against the side, a soft crystalline sound that paired perfectly with the fog of lust that clung to her like perfume.

“i need you to hold it ’til you can’t,” you sang, voice soft, dragging the lyric out as your bare hand cupped her chin.

you traced the shape of her mouth with your thumb until her lips parted again.

then, slow as sin, you tilted the glass and poured just enough to wet her mouth.

you watched her throat, the curve of it, as she swallowed. your thumb pressed gently at its base, and her lashes fluttered from the contact, her mouth forming the barest whimper.

she was unraveling.

and she wanted you to know it.

“i’ll reward you…”

a drop of liquor escaped the corner of her lips, slid down her jaw, and caught the dip of her collarbone.

you leaned in and licked it away.

a flick of your tongue.

a blessing.

a claim.

her breath shuddered out. her head fell back for just a moment, her composure slipping like silk off a shoulder.

but when her eyes drifted away—overwhelmed, seeking escape—you brought her back.

your fingers on her jaw turned her gently, insistently, until her eyes met yours again.

they were heavy-lidded now, drunk on you. hands trembling against your back, her fingers itching to rip through every layer of clothing between you.

“come with me,” you whispered, echoing the music as your hand rose to hook a single finger around the front of her chains.

the metal was cold against her flushed skin.

you tugged.

not enough to hurt—just enough to make her move.

she inhaled sharply, your scent invading her senses as you hovered close.

“come with me,” you repeated, voice lower now. your thumb swept once more over her jaw, and she nodded like she couldn’t have done anything else in that moment if she tried.

and that smile—

that wicked, indulgent smile—

returned to your lips.

because you knew she would follow.

anywhere.

everywhere.

and that power tasted sweeter than any drink.

as the song began to near its end, you slid yourself off billie’s lap with the kind of slow finality that made her body flinch. a soft, helpless whine spilled from her throat at the loss of your warmth, your weight. she blinked up at you, dazed, lips parted like she might beg without realizing.

before she could even register what was happening next, you reached out with two fingers, gently tilting her chin up. her breath hitched. you leaned in and pressed a kiss to her mouth—short, warm, electric. the kind of kiss that leaves something behind. her eyes fluttered closed again, like maybe she could will you to stay, chase your lips and steal another. but she was too slow. by the time she leaned in, you were already gone.

you gave her one last look over your shoulder, something smoldering and sweet behind your eyes, and turned away. every step you took was molten. hypnotic. drawn out like a performance within a performance. a slow burn no one else could touch.

your hands roamed your own body as you moved, nails skimming along your hips, tracing the soft curve of your waist. a private ritual made public. a map only billie could read. and god, how well she knew it.

you licked your lips and tasted her there. the sweetness of the citrus you’d fed her, the faint tang of her skin. your tongue lingered on that taste, your breath shaky as your heels struck against the stage.

with a final pivot, one more sultry glance at the crowd, the velvet curtains began to draw closed behind you—swallowing you in shadow.

your hand came to rest on your chest. you exhaled hard. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t starting to feel it, the ache pooling low in your belly. having billie under your control like that—so pliant, so desperate—in front of an audience no less? it was intoxicating. a power so heady it left your mouth dry and your fingertips buzzing.

turning to your right, you stepped off the side stage and into the narrow back hallway. the overhead lights flickered once, then steadied. your heels echoed off the tile like a slow drumbeat. the air here was heavier, tinged with sweat and hairspray and too many overlapping perfumes—thick enough to choke on. it clung to your lungs and stung the back of your throat, making you cough once, then again.

lipstick-smeared mirrors lined the walls like crooked memories, and peeling wallpaper curled away at the corners like it was trying to escape.

the voices grew louder as you approached the green room. laughter, music, chatter that turned sharp with delight when you stepped through the door.

“ooh, here she comes,” someone purred, voice lilting with mischief.

“you were gorgeous, and don’t think we didn’t see that sexy little spell you put on billie.” another chimed in, perched on the edge of the vanity, eyes gleaming like a cat in heat. he raised a cigarette to his lips, took a long drag, and exhaled in slow spirals, letting the smoke dance in the golden stage light.

you stretched your arms overhead, slow and feline, letting the arch of your spine show beneath the stage lights.

“well,” you drawled, voice thick with amusement, “someone had to keep the show interesting.”

a ripple of whistles and teasing applause followed. someone clapped. someone else let out a high-pitched mm-mm-mm.

“please,” he said again, flicking ash into a tray and leaning back into his chair, eyes still fixed on you through the haze, “the way she looked at you? honey, i thought we were gonna have to peel her off the damn floor. bless her poor, poor heart.”

a chorus of laughter broke out, but it all felt distant. muffled. like a memory you’d already moved past. your ears buzzed with leftover adrenaline. your skin still hummed with billie’s presence, even in her absence.

you reached for a flute of something sparkling and cold, condensation sliding down the stem onto your fingers. the first sip was sweet and sharp, the bubbles dancing against your tongue.

with the glass in hand, you slipped past the others, weaving through the vanity-lit chaos until you reached the far end of the room. a door waited there, made of dark, polished oak, the only thing in this place untouched by time. a golden plaque gleamed in the low light, your name carved into it in looping script.

you smiled at the sight of it. not vanity—recognition. this was your world. your temple. and behind that door, you’d wait just long enough to cool down. to think. or maybe just to let yourself ache a little longer.

you turned the knob and slipped inside, the door closing behind you with a quiet click, like the final note of a song no one else could hear.

you pushed open the door to your dressing room, the familiar creak of the hinges met with a wash of warm, low light and the soft hum of old jazz spinning from a rusted radio in the corner. the kind of music that curled like smoke in the corners of the room, slow and unhurried. it sounded like the end of something tender.

the scent shifted the moment you stepped inside. gone was the heavy cloud of perfume from the green room—here, it was all pressed powder and sweat, melted makeup, the faint, earthy echo of blunts long since burned down to ash. and still, it felt sacred. intimate. like stepping into the hushed temple of a woman who only existed behind velvet and spotlight. a woman you knew well. the version of yourself that only billie had seen this undone.

the bulbs framing your mirror buzzed in quiet harmony with the music, casting a golden halo around your reflection. you looked otherworldly—flushed, glowing, alive. glitter clung to your collarbones like stars caught in skin, and a thin sheen of sweat kissed the swell of your chest. your lipstick, once precise, was now slightly smudged—evidence of billie’s mouth, her chin, her hunger.

you peeled off your hat with the kind of practiced grace that only came from repetition and reverence. the rhinestones caught the light as they settled, still dancing from the movement, like your body hadn’t fully stilled. one glove hung from your pocket, its delicate sway mirroring the low tempo of the song, and with a sigh, you reached for your water bottle. your other hand moved behind you, pulling at the zipper of your corset until the tightness finally loosened, releasing your ribs from their velvet prison.

you closed your eyes. just for a moment. just to breathe. your heartbeat thudded in your ears like the fading drums of the show, but softer now. slower. the air touched your skin like a lover’s hand—cool, intimate, curious. the room smelled faintly of roses wilting in water and burnt-out incense—a little too sweet, a little too strong, but still… comforting. still home.

you tossed your gloves onto the vanity, fingers trembling slightly as you touched your jaw. still warm from her gaze. still tingling from the way billie had looked at you—like she wanted to be ruined by you.

“jesus,” you whispered under your breath, the sound barely audible beneath the music.

you let the corset fall the rest of the way, the sound of it hitting the chair behind you muted, fabric and bone softened by the years. stockings followed, slow and deliberate, rolled down your thighs in the same rhythm you’d danced with. garters unhooked like secrets undone. satin slipped off your frame in a sigh.

goosebumps rose across your arms, your stomach, the backs of your knees. you stood there in nothing but lace panties and the quiet ache of adrenaline, a sheen of sweat still clinging to you like dew on moonlit skin.

you padded across the room barefoot, each step sinking into the plush velvet rug beneath your feet. the rack by your wardrobe stood like a shrine to softness—lace, silk, velvet. your fingertips drifted over them with care, pausing when they reached the familiar weight of your favorite: an onyx robe made of clouds and dreams. sheer, feather-trimmed, with sleeves that whispered past your wrists and a hem that kissed the floor behind you like a lover’s plea.

you slid your arms through, let it settle over you like smoke. decadent. ridiculous. perfect. the sash fell into a lazy bow at your waist, loose enough to tempt, tight enough to withhold. the neckline fell open just enough to tease the soft curve of your chest, a glimpse of skin beneath a veil of shadow.

you stepped back toward the mirror, catching sight of your lips. the red had faded into something softer, stained and smudged like a secret still being kept. you leaned in, fingers brushing your mouth, then lowered your hand.

“nah,” you murmured to yourself, smile crooked, soft. “leave it.”

it felt like a love note from her. unfinished. unforgotten. and you weren’t ready to let that go just yet.

behind you, there was a knock—light, hesitant. a breath against the door.

your smile curled slow, knowing. it ghosted across your lips like smoke, already aware of who waited on the other side.

the knock came again—three soft taps, a rhythm that felt like a question whispered through wood. you didn’t answer. you didn’t need to. silence was an invitation she’d already learned to accept.

you crossed the room unhurriedly, each step deliberate, sensual. the sheer hem of your robe swept the floor behind you like mist crawling across a stage. your bare feet made no sound, only the rustle of silk and the low jazz still curling through the speakers filling the air between breaths.

when you reached the door, you paused—hand resting on the knob, pulse fluttering beneath your skin like the wingbeat of a hummingbird. a soft inhale, one last flicker of control. then, with a single fluid motion, you turned the handle and opened it.

and there she was.

billie stood in the doorway like something pulled from a dream—soft and sharp all at once. her shirt was slightly wrinkled now, collar undone just enough to reveal the delicate glint of gold resting against her chest, the chain catching the low light. her hair was tucked behind her ears, but a few strands had fallen loose, curling near her jaw like they’d been toyed with—maybe by her hands, maybe in frustration, maybe in want.

her eyes—those eyes, blue and endless, bottomless—devoured you the second she saw you.

and she didn’t say a word.

she didn’t need to.

you leaned against the frame, one leg bent just so, the robe parting to reveal the soft curve of your thigh, the gleam of skin beneath sheer black. your voice came out low, velvet-lined and lazy. “took you long enough.”

billie’s gaze lifted—slow, reverent—as though looking at something holy. her lips parted, voice scratchy with something raw. “hi,” she murmured, soft and rough, like gravel under silk. like she hadn’t spoken since the lights went down.

you let the word wrap around you. smiled, just barely. “hi.”

she stepped closer. close enough that her perfume began to mix with the warm, heady air of your dressing room. she smelled like heat and spice, like orange peel and cedarwood and something faintly sweet—like honey warmed on skin. she reached for your waist, hands moving on instinct, like gravity had pulled her forward.

but you caught her just before she could touch.

your fingers wrapped around her wrist, gentle but firm, your thumb brushing slow circles over her pulse. you felt it jump beneath your touch—fast, then faster. your eyes held hers, gaze unwavering, pupils blown wide like the room had dimmed again. your brow arched, playful, challenging.

a silent conversation passed between you. a language born from glances and tension, one only the two of you knew how to speak. no translation needed.

her lips parted again as she leaned in, breath mingling with yours—warm, laced with want. her mouth hovered just above yours, close enough to feel but not close enough to taste. you could feel the hum beneath your skin, the hunger, the ache—but you didn’t move.

instead, you pulled back—slow, teasing, wicked.

your fingers lingered at her wrist before slipping away, the absence making her sway ever so slightly forward, chasing you without meaning to. your smile was all mischief and silk. “well,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you turned slightly, letting her see more—more of the robe, more of the skin beneath, more of what she already knew was hers, “are you just going to stand there, or are you coming in?”

she didn’t answer. didn’t have to.

she followed you without a word.

like she always did.

billie shut the door behind her with a soft click, sealing you both inside the haze of warmth and low light. the jazz was still playing—slower now, like it understood the pace of your breath. her hand was soft in yours, fingers laced in a loose grip, your palms brushing in a rhythm all their own as you led her deeper into the sanctuary of your room.

the black velvet loveseat waited in the corner, plush and inviting beneath the amber wash of lamplight. you stopped just short of it and turned, the silk of your robe whispering against your thighs as you faced her fully.

your palm landed on her chest—right over the steady thrum of her heart. “sit,” you murmured, not a command but a suggestion wrapped in sugar.

a gentle shove followed, and her knees gave without resistance. she sank into the cushions with a quiet exhale, head tilted back just slightly, gaze never leaving yours.

your fingers wandered up her chest, brushing over the open collar of her shirt, grazing the hollow of her throat. your touch was light but deliberate, a ghost of a promise. when you reached her jaw, you hooked your finger under her chin and tilted her face up to meet yours. the heat in her eyes made your pulse thrum.

her hands found your waist, warm and certain, grounding you. the fabric of your robe did little to shield you from the heat of her palms—like her touch was seeping into your skin, into your bones. with a soft tug, she pulled you down, and you let yourself fall into her side, laughter bubbling from your lips like champagne, airy and golden.

your legs folded beneath you as you curled into her, a sinuous thing draped in onyx and honeylight. one hand slipped up to toy with the open collar of her shirt, teasing the buttons. the other found the nape of her neck, fingers tangling in the soft hair there, your nails dragging light, lazy arcs against her skin.

she didn’t speak. not at first.

she just looked at you.

like you were something pulled out of a fevered prayer. like she didn’t know if she should kiss you or confess to you.

“you’re unreal, you know?” she whispered, voice cracking like something sacred had slipped free. “like some dream i wasn’t supposed to wake up from.”

you smiled at that—slow and sure. your fingers kept threading through her hair as your lips ghosted near the shell of her ear. “oh really?” you murmured, breath warm against her skin. “i take it you liked the show?”

her hands flexed at your waist, a quiet reaction, but telling. her breath caught for a second too long.

“loved it,” she admitted, soft and helpless. “you were… fuck. you were everything.”

your nose brushed against hers, tender and teasing. “good.”

and then your mouth found the place just beneath her jaw, where her skin was softest. you kissed her there—slow, open-mouthed, deliberate. you let her feel all of you in that single press of lips: the heat, the reverence, the ache.

your hands moved like you were sculpting something precious—slipping beneath her shirt, fingertips cool against the heat of her stomach. you explored her inch by inch, dragging your hands upward in a slow unraveling. the fabric gave way, soft cotton sliding from her shoulders as you peeled it back with care, like you were opening something fragile.

you weren’t in a rush.

you never were with her.

you wanted her to feel it. to know that she was being touched, not taken. worshipped, not claimed.

her skin flushed beneath your hands, blooming rose-colored under the golden light. her breath stuttered as your fingers danced lower, painting invisible lines down her ribs, her stomach, her sides. every inch of her sang for you.

she looked at you with those heavy-lidded eyes—dark and dazed—like she wasn’t sure whether to breathe or break.

“then show me,” you whispered.

it wasn’t a dare. it was a prayer.

your words hung between you like incense, curling slow and sacred in the space where your bodies met.

billie never said much during moments like this. she didn’t have to.

her eyes always gave her away.

and right now?

she looked like she was starving for you.

and god, you were already halfway gone. aching for her in a way that made your bones feel too soft, your breath too shallow.

so you leaned in. let her feel it.

let her see it.

the want.

the surrender.

the love.

billie’s hands moved slowly, reverently, like you were something rare. something sacred. like she was afraid too much pressure might break you—or wake her up.

your fingers found her jaw again, tracing the delicate curve of it, your thumb stroking over her cheekbone with a tenderness that made her breath catch. you dragged it lower, skimming the column of her throat where her pulse throbbed steady beneath skin, then down—between her collarbones, over the rise of her chest. you kissed each place you touched, letting your mouth linger, letting warmth bloom in her skin like sun through fog.

your legs curled around her hips, pulling her in, guiding her just where you wanted. it wasn’t about control—it never had been. it was gravity. a natural pull. the quiet ache of bodies that knew exactly where they belonged.

you craned your neck to meet her mouth again, lips brushing, then parting, tongues brushing slow. her taste was still there—sweet, faintly sticky, like strawberries and something riper, something you couldn’t name. billie sighed against your lips, the sound soft and aching, and you swallowed it whole.

each movement was silk-wrapped, slow and sinuous. moans feathered against skin like secrets. fingers tangled tight in hair, your back arching as her palms splayed against it. her lips found your collarbone, trailing heat in their wake. there was no performance now. no mask. just skin and hunger and a softness that made your chest feel too full.

her fingers slid along the edges of your robe, skimming lightly, reverently, until they reached the knot that kept you from her. she tugged gently, watching you with wide, dark eyes as the sash unraveled with a whisper. you didn’t stop her. instead, you rose slightly onto your knees, the movement fluid and easy, and let the robe slip from your shoulders like ink spilling into water.

it fell behind you in a black pool, quiet and cloud-like. the air kissed your bare skin, goosebumps rising as your nipples tightened, aching in the cool. billie’s fingers moved to your hips, stroking the band of your underwear with just the edge of her knuckles. her gaze swept over you—hungry, yes, but soft. reverent. like she was staring at a prayer made flesh.

your hands came to her face, cupping her cheeks, thumbs grazing the high points just beneath her eyes. you kissed her again, deeper now, a breathless surrender. it was the kind of kiss that filled your lungs and lit your veins. velvet, heat, and want, passed back and forth like fire.

when your lips parted, she was already reaching for more. her hands found your waist, then the small of your back, pulling you close until your skin met hers—bare in places that made you tremble. your thighs tightened around her. you were flushed and breathless, but still unhurried. the two of you moved like time didn’t matter. like it had paused just for this.

your eyes fluttered shut as billie leaned down, mouth dragging wet kisses along the slope of your neck, her teeth grazing lightly at the shell of your ear before dipping lower—down into the valley between your breasts. her nails dug gently into your waist, a sweet sting that made your breath hitch.

a gasp slipped from your throat. instinctively, your hand found her forehead, gently lifting her face. her eyes met yours—crystalline, pupils blown wide, glassy with need. her lips were slick, the soft pink deepened to rose, and her thumbs rubbed slow circles into your hips as she waited.

waited for you.

“you’re being so good,” you whispered, thumb stroking her cheek again. “you always are.”

her eyes fluttered shut when you leaned down and kissed her again, slow and honey-warm. her lips molded to yours, open and eager, your breath tangling in the space between. your hand slid up, fingers curling lightly around her throat, pressure tender but firm. she melted beneath it, exhaling through her nose like she was falling into you.

your other hand traveled downward, gliding over the dip of her sternum, the flat plane of her stomach, tracing the faint outlines of muscle. when you reached the button of her jeans, you fumbled just slightly—blind, desperate—but managed to undo it with ease. the denim loosened, revealing the black band of her panties, the flush of her skin beneath.

your fingers slipped under the waistband, teasing at the heat you found there, dragging light over the softness of her hip. billie’s breath stuttered into your mouth and you smiled into the kiss—lazy, smug, fond.

you pushed her jeans down just far enough, your hands smoothing over the generous curves of her thighs. she helped, kicking them off with a soft rustle. neither of you broke the rhythm. your mouths stayed close, brushing and breathing and tasting each sigh as it came. your hands roamed slow—reverent like worship. like prayer.

billie leaned into every touch, her body pliant, her edges softened by you. like your hands were the only thing keeping her from unraveling.

you kissed her jaw, then her throat, your tongue tasting the salt that clung to her skin. your mouth moved lower, lips brushing over her pulse—steady but quickening.

her head tipped back, neck exposed, lips parted.

and then she said your name—low, breathless, sacred.

like it was the only thing she remembered.

like it was the only thing she wanted.

you pulled back just enough to see her—really see her.

her face flushed a shade deeper than rose, skin dewy with sweat, lips parted and kiss-swollen. her chest rose and fell in slow stutters, and her thighs twitched beneath you like they were holding back something feral.

she looked completely undone.

and you hadn’t even touched her properly yet.

your palm rested flat and warm over her lower belly, just above the waistband of her panties, the heat of her skin pulsing against your hand. you leaned in, close enough for your noses to brush, for your breath to mingle.

“tell me what you need, baby,” you whispered, voice low, liquid, coaxing.

the kind of tone that made blood rush downward.

her lashes fluttered, her hips arching faintly into your touch. “i just…” she swallowed, voice soft and helpless. “i need you.”

you kissed her—slow and plush, pressing your lips to hers like sealing a vow.

a promise you intended to keep with your whole body.

your hands moved again, this time with clear purpose, reverent and unhurried.

you hooked your thumbs beneath the band of her panties, easing the fabric down her hips as she lifted for you without a word. her thighs trembled slightly under your palms, her breath catching when your nails grazed her skin.

you kissed every new inch of exposed flesh—her hipbones, the tops of her thighs, the delicate dip where her pelvis met her lower belly. your tongue flicked against the faint ink etched into her skin, tracing tattoos with a reverent curiosity.

worshipping.

savoring.

billie melted beneath you, pliant and open, her legs parting with a gentle tug of your hands. you settled between them, knees pressing into the cushions, your robe still pooled behind you like a fallen shadow. her heat called to you, thick and tangible in the space between your mouths.

you looked up, eyes locking with hers.

“imma need you to keep your eyes on me, okay baby?”

your voice came out like velvet laced with smoke, each word deliberate and slow, breath warm where it fanned out over her soaked slit.

her hole clenched around nothing, her body reacting to your voice before your mouth even touched her. she moaned at the sensation, her hips bucking lightly as a laugh escaped your lips—low and amused.

“so needy,” you teased, not unkindly, as her eyes fluttered in frustration.

“then shut up and eat me,” she breathed out, almost begging.

you dropped your gaze, watching slick glisten along her folds like honey pooled in a blossom. her want was glossy, fragrant, heady in the air.

you reached with one hand, untangling it from her thigh, and propped her legs onto your shoulders. the position opened her further, offered her to you like something precious. you dipped a finger into her slit, slow and exploratory.

the sudden contrast of your cool touch on her heat made her gasp, her fingers curling into the upholstery.

diamonds winked on your finger, catching the low light as you stroked her—teasing her slit, gliding upward, occasionally bumping her clit just to watch her flinch. her breath stuttered again.

your eyes flicked up to meet hers as you drew finger back.

then, slowly, deliberately, you lifted it to your mouth and sucked it clean.

your tongue curled around the digit, savoring her taste, your lashes fluttering shut for just a beat.

a moan slipped from your throat, low and satisfied.

she watched you like you were something unreal.

something divine.

her throat bobbed with a hard swallow, her breath now coming in ragged little pulls.

you released your finger with a quiet pop, then brought both index and middle fingers down to her again—pressing them gently to her folds, spreading her open like a secret.

“look at you,” you murmured, gaze fixed between her legs. “so pretty like this.”

you leaned in, letting your breath ghost over her clit. her whole body tensed, her hands flying to your hair, gripping tight.

you planted a single, slow kiss to her clit—soft and almost chaste.

“please,” she whimpered, voice breaking.

and you answered.

your mouth covered her, tongue licking a long stripe from entrance to peak.

her hips jerked beneath you, but your hands came down to her thighs, holding her steady, guiding her to stay right where you wanted her.

you devoured her like you’d been starving.

like she was the only thing in the world that could fill you.

and maybe she was.

you watched how her face twisted into something otherworldly, every muscle softening and then tightening again as your mouth lowered, kisses dragging downward, tongue slipping further between her folds.

you stuck your tongue out when you reached her entrance—slow, unhurried—and licked a slow, lazy circle, eyes flicking upward just in time to see her lashes flutter and her head tip back.

she looked divine like that. undone and completely yours.

her skin glowed beneath the low light, flushed and slick with heat. she tasted like salt and honey, like longing turned liquid. her thighs trembled around your head, tightening and twitching, but never pushing you away. her hips stuttered into your mouth, desperate and searching.

you didn’t rush her.

you let her come apart in your hands like soft fruit, ripe and splitting at the seam.

your fingers gripped her hips with a tender steadiness, thumbs rubbing absent little circles into the soft skin there, grounding her even as she writhed and gasped.

her breath came in broken pieces, sharp and airy. her voice, when it returned, was raw silk.

“baby…”

just that.

a whisper.

barely audible.

you hummed against her in response, lips vibrating just enough to make her whimper.

your tongue dragged slow and sure through her folds, gliding over swollen flesh, circling and dipping just right. your mouth moved with devotion—no tricks, no rush—just steady worship that made her shake.

her hands threaded through your hair, not pulling, not guiding—just holding.

like she needed the anchor of you, the press of your body between her legs to keep her from drifting into something too big to name.

your name slipped from her lips in fragments, scattered prayers with no rhythm, just need.

and then you pulled back just a little, a shining string of spit and slick stretching from your lips to her core. your face was wet with her, mouth shiny, flushed with heat, but you didn’t care. you licked your lips slow, savoring her taste, the corners of your mouth curling in quiet satisfaction.

“so fucking good,” you murmured to yourself, almost reverent.

then, without breaking the moment, you dipped your thumb into her pussy, gathering the wetness there—so much of it, all for you—and brought it to her clit, circling soft, tight motions.

she sighed at the contact, a sound soaked in gratitude and desperation.

“mhmm, just like that, billie,” you coaxed, nodding along with the rhythm of your hand. “need you to cum for me, okay? wanna feel you let go.”

billie’s mouth parted, but no words came—just a small, strangled “mhm.”

it was all she could manage. her body was trembling under you, barely held together, eyes glassy and unfocused.

you smiled, soft and almost proud, watching her fall apart beneath you.

you leaned down again, mouth returning to her pussy with purpose.

your tongue prodded back inside her, slow and intentional, while your thumb kept steady on her clit—two points of contact pulling her tighter, winding her up like thread between your fingers.

“fuck—oh my god,” she breathed out, voice cracking, hands scrambling across the cushions, across your shoulders, your scalp—searching for something to tether her.

you could feel her nearing the edge—body tightening, breath catching. her legs clamped around your head and you didn’t fight it. didn’t flinch.

you just kept going.

and when the tremors overtook her, when she finally gave in and came with a strangled cry, her thighs clenching around your ears and her body arching off the couch—

you stayed with her.

you kissed her through it, soft and warm, tongue flicking lightly between contractions. one hand slid up her stomach, calming her, tracing lazy patterns into her skin. your other arm wrapped around her waist, holding her steady as her body shook with aftershocks.

“that’s it, baby. i got you,” you murmured, voice feather-light. “still with me?”

she nodded against the couch, breathless, eyes still closed.

you stayed nestled between her thighs, cheek resting gently on her hipbone.

her skin was slick and warm, your lips pressing tiny kisses to the soft curve of her belly, mouth open and reverent. you nuzzled into her skin, letting the closeness settle between you like steam.

you didn’t speak again.

you didn’t need to.

your bodies already said everything in silence.

and right now, everything felt still.

whole.

and hers.

after a few beats of silence—just the soft hum of her breath, the quiet afterglow trembling in the space between you—billie’s hand lifted, fingertips grazing your jaw, a tender nudge drawing your gaze back to hers.

“c’mere,” she breathed, voice rough like velvet worn soft. sugar and smoke. “i need you…”

you crawled up her slowly, deliberately, skin skimming hers in a drag of warmth. she welcomed you immediately, arms curling around your back, mouth finding yours like a reflex. the kiss was languid and low, all breath and tongue and ache, like she needed to taste what you’d just taken from her. like she needed to reclaim it.

her sigh spilled into your mouth, sweet and trembling. her hands roamed, cupping your hips, then sliding down with reverence—squeezing the curve of your ass with a quiet groan that thudded low in your chest.

“i wanna feel you now,” she whispered, lips brushing your cheek, the corner of your mouth. “i need to.”

your eyes fluttered closed as her hands slid beneath the elastic of your underwear, her touch reverent and slow, like peeling away silk. the fabric rolled down your thighs, her fingers grazing your skin with such delicacy it almost tickled—setting you alight in waves.

when she pulled the last of it down, there was nothing between you. just bare skin and the open hum of want.

billie kissed her way up from your hipbones, her mouth soft and unhurried as she flipped you gently onto your back. her body hovered over yours, a whisper of heat and weight.

“you looked so fucking good up there tonight,” she murmured against your collarbone, her lips brushing your skin like a secret. her hands mapped you like a song she already knew by heart. “i don’t think you know how bad i wanted you right then and there. how close i was to pulling you off that damn stage and taking you right in my lap.”

you exhaled, a shaky breath catching on your lips, fingers threading into her hair. “i think i’ve got a pretty clear idea,” you whispered, breathless, voice thick with the heat curling low in your belly. “imma need you to touch me like you mean it.”

“oh baby,” she murmured, teeth grazing your skin. “i always mean it.”

her palm cupped your breast with gentle weight, thumb grazing your nipple until it peaked under her touch. her mouth followed a moment later, lips wrapping around you, tongue slow and wet, dragging over sensitive skin as your back arched into her.

her other hand moved like a whisper over your stomach, tracing the lines of you like you were something sacred. her fingers slid down, past your navel, skating along your inner thigh—pausing just shy of where you burned for her.

“so fucking soft,” she whispered, voice low in awe. “you smell so sweet, baby. like you were made for me.”

and then, finally, her fingers found your slit, parting you with delicate pressure. the first touch was barely there—just the tip of her finger ghosting over your clit, slow and reverent. it sent a tremor through you, breath catching, thighs falling wider in invitation.

your hands clutched the sheets, hips rising in search of more.

“please,” you whispered, not even sure what you were begging for. more? slower? forever?

billie looked up from your chest, lips still slick, eyes glassy and wide, pupils blown. “i got you,” she promised. “just relax for me.”

her fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles, coaxing slick from your body with every tender motion. your breath hitched with every pass, pleasure rising like a tide. and all the while, she kissed your skin—pressing her lips to the swell of your breasts, the space beneath them, your ribs, your stomach. each kiss a small prayer, each touch a vow.

“you’re so beautiful like this,” she whispered against your navel. “all soft and open. all mine.”

you moaned softly, body beginning to tremble beneath her, hips rocking in slow rhythm to her hand. her fingers slipped lower, gathering your wetness and circling back to your clit, coaxing you higher with every pass.

it was too much and not enough.

you needed her everywhere.

you needed her to never stop.

and when her mouth dipped lower again, following the trail of her fingers, the breath left your lungs entirely.

you were weightless.

lost in her.

and she was still just getting started.

“please,” you gasped, your fingers digging into the firm curve of her forearm, clinging to her like a lifeline, like gravity itself had softened and only she could keep you from floating away. “billie…”

her gaze softened, her whole face folding into something impossibly tender. she leaned in, brushing damp curls away from your forehead, her thumb gently swiping the slick sheen from your temple. her touch was cool, grounding. reverent.

“i’ve got you,” she whispered, her voice thick with heat and honey, eyes locked to yours like she couldn’t bear to look anywhere else.

and then—

she slid two fingers inside you, slow and deep, her palm flush against your mound as her hand sank into your warmth with aching intention.

your breath caught mid-throat, mouth falling open in a wordless moan, your back arching like her name had been written into your spine. your thighs tensed around her wrist, slick and trembling, wrapping around her like you needed to hold her there forever.

billie leaned in, her forehead pressing to yours again, breath mingling with yours, hot and shaky. her free hand gripped your waist like she couldn’t trust herself not to fall into you entirely. her fingers curled inside you, firm but gentle, finding the rhythm of your body and mirroring it with care. patient. precise.

the roll of her wrist was measured, almost reverent. each thrust deliberate, like she was learning you by feel, committing the way your body bloomed around her to memory.

“oh my god,” you choked out, your voice fragile and frayed.

her thumb circled your clit—soft and slow and devastating.

“that’s it,” she murmured, lips brushing yours, voice almost too quiet to hear. “you’re so perfect like this. so fuckin’ good for me.”

her eyes never left yours. even as your head tipped back, even as you tried to hide the way your body twitched and jerked under her touch, she was there—watching, drinking in every broken sound you gave her. her gaze made it intimate. her hands made it holy.

you rocked into her hand, chasing every wave she stirred inside you, your hips stuttering as the coil inside you pulled tighter and tighter. every time she kissed you, it felt like a tether. like she was holding you together even as she undid you piece by piece.

“cum for me,” she whispered, voice hoarse, lips brushing your cheek now, your jaw, your temple. “let go, mama. i wanna feel you fall apart.”

and you did.

your whole body clenched, a cry catching in your throat and spilling into her mouth as the orgasm ripped through you like flame through paper. your legs trembled around her, your stomach spasming with each pulse of release. it stole your breath. bent your spine. left you wide open.

but she never let go.

billie held you through every wave, kissing your face with shaking lips, whispering things so soft they blurred into the thundering echo of your heartbeat. “that’s it, baby,” and “i got you,” and “so good for me.” she kissed your chest, your shoulder, the corner of your mouth—pressing love into every inch of you like a balm.

when it was over, when your body had softened into something boneless and dazed, she eased her fingers from you with care, wiping them across your inner thigh in a lazy motion that made your whole body twitch.

she reached for the robe still puddled on the floor, shaking it out and draping it over your back like a blanket, tucking it around your sides. her arms wrapped around you next, pulling you into her chest as your cheek found the steady beat of her heart.

her fingers traced slow, thoughtless patterns into your spine. spirals. circles. love letters in motion.

you exhaled against her skin, your lips brushing the hollow of her throat. her pulse thudded against your mouth like an answer.

“you okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, muffled by the quiet hum of jazz still curling through the room like smoke.

you nodded, too blissed out to speak. “i’m better than okay.”

billie kissed the top of your head, her nose buried in your hair. her voice trembled when she spoke again.

“good. ‘cause i’m not done loving on you yet.”

and just like that, the show was over—

but the night had only just begun.

astrc’s tag list: @zendayasredbottoms @bilsdillldough @billiesrighthand @watercolorskyy @bilssturns @47lake @vijaxx @natbelovasblog @hopingforgoodblogs @thefeverburningalive @stOnerlesbO @blohshlover11 @dragoneyelashart @billiessillywife @bilswifee ; hit my asks saying “add to taglist” if you want to be on my regular taglist for all billie content

#billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x female reader #billie eilish x black girl #billie eilish smut #billie eilish #billie eilish x black reader #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x smut #billie eilish x you #billie eilish gf #billie eilish fic

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lexirosewrites · 6 months ago

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A!Eddie is the more artistic one of the pair, so he takes it upon himself to paint their first baby's nursery. The ceiling is a bright blue sky w white clouds, the walls an enchanted forest w trees & magical beasts & magical folk of every size. When baby #2 is on their way he paints their nursery too, the ceiling is the canopy of a forest & the walls r filled with a scene of a fairytale village. Baby #3 is decided to b their last baby, the ceiling is made to resemble an enchanted night sky full of stars & northern lights, the walls r painted w scenes of different parties happening throughout a fairytale castle.

The couple fully expect their children will want to repaint their rooms once they're older & they r more than happy to make tht happen, what they don't expect is all 3 of them adamantly refusing to ever change the walls every time they're asked, the kids even go so far as to make the parents pinky promise (a legally binding agreement as we all know) to never change the paintings in their rooms even when they all move out

Eddie absolutely cries when their middle child asks him to help paint the room of their own soon to be here baby, his son-in-law is doing all of the work of making the bby so the father & daughter get the walls & ceiling painted to resemble an enchanted magic garden, with a hedge maze painted all over the ceiling

Steve also gets to cry & feel overwhelming love when his pregnant son-in-law asks him to teach him to make a stuffed toy for the baby, telling the older omega something he hadn't known: tht all 3 of his children had held onto the stuffed toys he'd made each of them during his pregnancies not just through childhood but into their lives as adults

steddie are the best parents and grandparents because they’re made of so much love😭🩷

#slick sunday #steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #steve x eddie #a/b/o #omegaverse #mpreg #cw mpreg #tw mpreg #my asks

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thelostprincessposts · 24 days ago

Text

Heat Waves [Painted Verso x Reader NSFW]

Pairing: Painted Verso x Reader

Summary: a trip to the hot springs gets heated with Verso.

Rated: R

Warnings: NSFW, vaginal intercourse. Minors DNI. This is smut with very little plot.

Author's note: received a request for sexy times with Verso involving *the* swimsuits. Thank you so much for the request! Requests are still open and I have a few to get to yet 😉

This was the dumbest thing you could have agreed to. You stood in the washroom compartment in a train car eyeing yourself in the mirror. The swimsuit left little to the imagination. In fact, when the Grandis designer initially handed it to you you thought it was not yet finished. Now the flimsy triangles barely held your breasts up, let alone covered all your bits.

The team was making camp at Monoco's Station after exploring nearby. It made more sense to make use of the train cars than to make camp in the snow. Monoco started reminiscing on how he and Verso used to take advantage of a nearby natural hot spring to soothe their bodies after sparring, to which Sciel demanded they take you all to. That's how you ended up here, desperately attempting to stretch the fabric over your body.

You couldn't deny that the thought of some relief from the hot springs sounded nice, but you were exceedingly nervous about the swimsuit situation. You and Verso had stolen shared conpliments and heated glances over the campfire, but going from flirtatious eyes to practically undressing yourself was quite the leap.

You sighed before shrugging your jacket on over the swimsuit. You weren't trekking in the snow in this get-up.

"Everything alright?" Lune asked as you met the team outside.

You plastered a smile on to garner some confidence before replying. "I'm great. Let's go!"

The walk to the springs was only a few minutes. The pool was hidden in a cavern - the tunnel already felt steamy and warmed your extremities.

There were lanterns lit around and above the pool, courtesy of Lune's fire magic. Moonlight streamed in from a berth in the ceiling above making it cozy.

The team started to shed their coats and boots, but you hesitated at seeing their swimsuits actually fit them well. Especially Verso...you couldn't stop yourself from staring at his unclothed chest as he waded into the water.

"Oh, this is heavenly!" Lune exclaimed as she entered the pool. You stood there contemplating if you were actually going to take off your jacket until Sciel interrupted your thoughts.

"Come on, Y/N. What's going on?" She called from where she sat on the edge of the pool letting her legs dangle in the water. Verso eyed you carefully before you sighed.

"Okay, admittedly, I think the Grandis messed up my swimsuit a little bit. Don't get me wrong - I'm thankful for the gift, but it doesn't fit me very well. Maybe I'll just head back for the evening."

"Come on, it can't be that bad. You're amongst friends. Get in here!" Sciel encouraged. Your eyes met Verso's and for a half second there was another shared look of laughter dancing in his eyes. It felt like you were full of inside jokes. He raised his eyebrow slightly in challenge to see what you'd do.

"Fine," you managed to get out as you slipped your boots off and undid the clasps on the jacket. You turned away before letting the jacket fall to your feet, and Sciel immediately howled.

"Holy ass!" She laughed. You turned around to show off the rest of the suit, causing immediate belly laughing from Sciel. Her laughing was contagious - you couldn't help but also giggle at how ridiculous you looked until you were both in a laughing fit.

"Y/N, I think the problem is not that the suit doesn't fit you, but that it fits you too well," Lune managed between her own laughter.

As your laughter eased up, you noticed that Verso was hardly laughing. His cheeks were heated as his eyes locked onto yours. He, in fact, made a show of letting his eyes roam over your body while the rest of the team was still distracted.

You fought the urge to wrap your arms around yourself and instead made for the pool's entrance to join the others. "At least it doesn't really matter once you're in here. The steam makes it hard to see anything under the water," Maelle offered. Always the one to make the team feel better in a silly situation.

"True, thank you," you replied softly and gave her a small smile. The pool was a little deeper than your waist, so you dipped into the water to submerge yourself.

Lune and Sciel were laughing reminiscing about a past trip to the beach with some of their work crew. Verso gave you a half smile and a discreet nod to the place next to him. You made your way over to the rock ledge and settled in next to him, sighing at how easily your body relaxed in the water.

"Nice, huh?" He chuckled.

"I didn't realize how tense my muscles were until this very moment. This is incredible," you replied closing your eyes to enjoy the moment.

"You should have told me. I could have massaged your shoulders for you," Verso said lowly into your ear.

Your heart raced at how close he was and at his proposition. Your knew your face was betraying you with a heavy blush.

"I'll keep that in mind," you smiled back at him. You felt his hand brush your leg underwater in a light caress. Whether it was intentional or not, it sent a jolt of energy through your core.

The team chatted in the water a while longer replacing your nightly chat over the fire. All the while, Verso's hand never left your thigh. His fingers drifted about making patterns you couldn't follow. It wasn't long before Maelle was yawning and Monoco accompanied her back to camp. Lune wasn't far behind, stating that she needed to update the expedition journal. "I think that's my cue to leave. Behave yourselves," Sciel teased, giving you and Verso a pointed look and laughing.

The second she left the cave you covered your face with both hands and couldn't help letting out a laugh. "Did you conspire with them to get me alone?"

You felt Verso pulling your hands away and saw he was grinning as well. "No, and thank goodness I didn't. Watching you blush from embarrassment is enough of a reward."

"Well, you got plenty of that today." He moved in front of you and his hands reached for your waist. He still kept a respectable distance, his arms out-stretched to reach you.

"I think I need to impose a new rule that you're only allowed to wear that swimsuit. No more expedition uniform," he grinned devilishly.

"Absolutely not. I'm burning this when we're done here."

"I can work with that. We'll skinny dip everywhere," he suggested as his fingers once again found themselves tickling your skin. This must have been what it felt like to be the keys he pressed upon when he played the piano.

"A compromise then - if I have to wear my suit everywhere, then so do you," you replied. You took the opportunity to reach your arms up around his neck. It felt right; it felt natural to be in his atmosphere.

"Ah, so you were checking me out, then," he mused with another suggestive smile. You felt your cheeks redden again, as if you hadn't blushed enough today. Your arms around his neck brought you closer to him. Verso's eyes were searching yours feverishly through this whole exchange.

"Admittedly, I can't complain about the lack of clothing," you confessed. Both of you spoke softer the closer you got. Verso opened his mouth to say something, but then quickly closed it.

There was a moment of comfortable silence in which you let your hands tangle in the bottom of his hair. Something shifted when you noticed Verso look away and his hands stalled their movement on your hips.

The way his eyes met yours when he looked back at you was enough to make your heart beat uncontrollably. He was searching for something again when he spoke. "Tell me I'm not imagining this...thing between us. I feel crazy each night, the way I want to have you next to me, but I don't want to act on this if you aren't feeling this too."

His words were careful, like he thought you might disappear. His grip on your hips felt tentative as he second guessed himself. Now you definitely thought your heart really was going to beat out of your chest.

"Verso, I want it. You're not imagining it. I wouldn't put myself in this position with anyone I considered just a friend," you said with a half smile. Your fingers wove their way into his hair and he let out a breath you didn't know he was holding.

"I've been imagining what I'd do if I ever got you alone and now that we're here it's like I've forgotten everything I've ever known," he said sheepishly. Your eyes began to search his the way he was searching you earlier. You inched your way closer to him as your arms pulled his neck towards you.

Your noses were nearly touching and your nervous breaths mixed with his equally heavy breathing. "Maybe we start with a kiss. It's always the first thing I think of doing when I think of you," you suggested. His nervous breaths were interrupted by the most genuine smile you'd received from him before he nodded and brought his right hand up to cup your face. His left hand remained by your hip gripping it gently while he brought his lips to yours.

It was slow and thoughtful, the way his lips moved against yours. You felt so afraid to breathe at first. The kiss was so perfect that it felt like you were frozen in time. If not for the sound of your heart pounding in your ear, you'd have sworn you ceased to exist.

You felt him smile against your lips and your eyes opened to see him starting to laugh. Your heart sunk in horror. "What?? Is something wrong?"

"No, mon couer. We're so stupid," he laughed again, placing his thumb under your chin. "We could have been kissing this whole time. Instead the most action I've gotten has been from Monoco snuggling me in my sleep."

You laughed along with him, taking in the way his eyes creased and the light shifted in his eyes. He kissed you again - this time with a bit more passion.

"Are you still feeling tense?" Verso asked when the kiss broke. You needed more of him; the thought of his hands on you was a blessing.

You shot him a smirk before stating, "I do believe you offered to rub my shoulders. Does the offer still stand?"

"It does," he confirmed before placing a kiss upon your forehead. "Turn around. I'll have you kneel on that rock ledge."

You did as he commanded, but you suddenly felt ridiculous in your swimsuit again. You snorted before reaching for the tie around your neck. "Alright, this thing has to come off. This string is killing my neck trying to hold these up."

Your fingers were having a hard time with the knot before you felt Verso's hands cover yours. He whispered into your ear from behind, "allow me."

You let your hands drop so he could undo the tie. Relief came swiftly once the top was released and thrown to the side of the pool. Verso's lips met your shoulder and then your neck, his hands resting on the sides of your arms. It was difficult not to feel his hardness pressing into your backside, which sent a whole new wave of redness to your face. Thank god this time you were turned around.

His hands moved to your shoulders and back, rubbing out any tension. Some un-lady-like words left your mouth making Vero chuckle behind you. Even just feeling his hands roaming your back was enough to spark goosebumps all over your body.

"Do I get to explore your back too?" You teased as his massage became more gentle and caressing.

"Anything you wish, my love," he rasped. You turned around on the ledge. With him standing in front of you and you seated on the ledge, your legs opened to cage his frame. With your top half exposed, your breasts sat just out of the water. He brought his forehead to rest against yours and your hand made its way to his cheek.

"What do you want? What have you imagined of us?" You asked. The question was purposely dangerous. Kissing him made you feel drunk and there was no sobering this moment now.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Verso whispered. Your eyes met his. The gaze he offered was so delicate, you thought he might break at any second.

Your thumb grazed his cheek and over his lips. "Tell me. Better yet - show me."

Verso's breath hitched at your command. His eyes darkened as he stared into yours. "One word and we stop. Got it?"

"Do your worst, Dessendre." His lips were upon yours again, hungry and needy. Your legs wrapped firmly around his waist, your core flush against his hard sex. Lips battled for dominance as his right hand groped your breast unapologetically and his left supported his weight against the rock wall behind you.

"So beautiful," he murmured against your lips before disconnecting and moving to suck on your nipples. His hand found purchase on your ass. You took the opportunity to loosen your legs from his waist and slide your hand down to stroke him over his shorts, eliciting a strained groan from his lips.

Your hand moved against his length until you could feel his hips grinding against yours. Verso wasted no time removing his hand from squeezing your bottom and brought it down the front of your suit, plunging two fingers inside of you.

His fingers danced inside, hitting glorious nerves and filling you with ecstasy. His mouth and tongue found yours again, swallowing any sounds you made. As your kissing became heated, your hand trailed over the hair snaking over his abdomen and into his shorts. Your hand closed over his bare member and he pumped himself slowly within your fist.

His fingers continued their movements and whimpers spilled from your mouth. "I wish I could listen to those sounds all day," Verso prayed against your mouth. When he started pressing his thumb against your clit you reached down to pull his hand away.

Confusion etched his features until you said, "Fuck me, Verso."

You removed the hand from his shorts as you moved to discard your own bottoms. He did the same, throwing your suits to the pool side again. "You're sure?" He asked as his hand cupped your face. Your eyes met his in reassurance.

"I need a...deep massage to release all this tension that's been building up. Fuck. Me."

"You're going to be the death of me, aren't you?" You shared a grin before he reached to pick you up from your thighs. He lifted you until he was positioned at your entrance, both of your bodies still mostly in the water. You nodded as he pushed himself in and you wrapped your legs around his middle.

The way he was squatting down to stay in the water and the way your bodies floated made the movements leisurely. "Verso, you feel so good inside me," you murmured against his lips. He let out a deep moan - a sound you wanted to record and remember the rest of your days.

You could feel him moving you towards the edge of the pool. He placed your lower back against the edge and braced an arm on the ledge for some leverage as he continued to pump into you. "Deep enough?" He asked cheekily.

You could only moan in response; your mind felt like jelly the way he filled you up. His thrusts got faster, which caused water to splash onto the ledge and outside the pool. You began to laugh as the water spilled over your breasts. The hot springs had become a wave pool and your waves were beginning to put out some of the candles on the side of the pool.

Verso started to laugh too, both of you becoming hysterical and he stopped his movements. As you tried to catch your breath you said, "I bet this isn't what you imagined it would be like."

He shook his head, grinning from ear to ear. "It's better. It's fun with you."

He reluctantly pulled out of you and gave you a kiss. You pushed yourself off the ledge and back into the water, instead turning around and bracing yourself on the ledge.

Verso came up behind you and cupped your breasts. He gently played with them while giving your neck some attention before positioning himself to take you from behind. The water splashed a lot less from this angle.

Verso's hands gripped your hips as he thrust in and out of you. You could feel your walls tightening; he was too good at hitting your sweet spot at this angle. The unholy sounds pouring from his lips weren't hurting either.

"Just like that, baby. I'm not going to last," you panted.

"Cum with me," Verso instructed against your ear. He held his body against yours, clutching your breasts, as he pounded his last thrusts into you. That was enough to send you over the edge - your walls tensing around him as he unraveled.

For a moment the only sounds were the panting from both of you and the water lapping against the sides of the pool. Verso's grip on your breasts loosened as he pulled out of you. Your body pressed off the pool edge to turn and face him.

Verso stole another kiss from you while wrapping his arms around your middle. "You alright? Was that okay for you?" He asked.

"It was perfect, but...I am pruning up," you cracked up after running your fingertips against his jawline. "I think it's probably time to head back." He placed a kiss on your forehead before releasing you.

"Alright, fine..." Verso followed you out of the pool and collected your suits to wring out. Your gaze couldn't help but roam over his naked body now that you had full view out of the water. "You're playing a dangerous game, Y/N," he smirked over his shoulder.

"Can't help it. I say we burn the swimsuits." He handed you your suit and slipped his on, along with the rest of your gear.

"Absolutely not. I'm not sharing you with anyone else," he said before stealing one last kiss and swooping you into his arms to carry back to camp.

#clair obscur #expedition 33 #clair obscur: expedition 33 #verso dessendre #verso fanfic #verso imagine #verso x reader #clair obscur fanfic

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jinxziie · 1 year ago

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⋆⭒˚.⋆ Avenue Loft ⋆⭒˚.⋆ wanted to do sumthin a lil different,,,, so i decided why not make a vibeyy asss loft apartmentt! ive never built a loft before and had a hard time w this for some reason but i LOVE the way this came out..so much so that i havent even fully deco'd the inside yet and just wanted the sharee it! i srsly cant wait to do the interior, i hav sm ideas for the vibe in heree! lot is 35x25 i made this build for one household but like my other builds, there's enough space to make more apartments in the other buildings and u can split up the households w the apartment controller mod :D Hope u guys enjoyy her n make her look fabulous! as always, cc list is included in the zip (i recently updated it w the cc i used for this specific build) andd if u do download plss take pics n tag me and use #jinxrenos CUS I WANNA SEEEE !! links & info under the cut! ♡ Creds to the cc creators ♡

sfs / mirror

it was hard takin pics in here! for some reason the ceiling color wasn't showing right on camera BUT i promise it matches perfectly in game

AND i totally forgot to move the hallway arch over for more wallspace for a bed or something n its bothering me but its a little late to fix it saur T.T i changed my terrain paint for my builds, so sorry it doesnt match the other build i uploaded, they r all i nthe cc list though!

the shops are obvi for environment purposes but i do enjoy decorating them and using them for rp & pictures so maybe yall will do the same! ★ My CC List (updated for this build) ★If i missed anything pls lmk n if u hav questions pls askkk!

#ts3 #sims 3 #simblr #sims 3 simblr #sims #s3cc #ts3 build #sims3cc #ts3cc #ts3 download #sims3apartment #sims 3 screenshots #jinxbuilds #jinxziiesims

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rottenpumpkin13 · 2 months ago

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a huge materia accident turns agszc into young children, and Lazard goes from being the director of soldier, to being the caregiver of 5 kiddos that scream, cry ,fight, break stuff, and paint on walls

*Lazard opens the office door for Tseng with toddler Cloud perched on one hip, clutching his cravat and chewing it like a teether*

Lazard: May I help you?

*Behind him, toddler Genesis is aggressively painting on the wall in red marker, writing "DEATH >:)" while toddler Angeal is trying to wrestle chalk from Zack who is trying to eat it. Toddler Sephiroth is sitting silently on the floor drawing peacefully*

Tseng: I received a report of a massive materia malfunction at SOLDIER. I came to assess the damage. Why didn't you hand them over to R&D? Or, I don't know—your secretaries?

*Zack pelts a clipboard at the ceiling and yells "FIRAGA!" Genesis eats a crayon. Angeal cries. Sephiroth calmly draws. Cloud bites Lazard's shoulder*

Lazard: Because unlike some people, I know exactly what happens when a child grows up with a negligent father and too many locked doors. These boys need affection. Stability. Meaningful structure.

*Genesis starts chanting Loveless from atop Lazard's desk like it's a stage. Angeal tries to clean the marker off the wall with hand sanitizer. Cloud throws up. Sephiroth is still drawing*

Tseng: So your solution… was to raise five toddlers by yourself during business hours?

Lazard: Yes. I'm teaching them compassion, boundaries, and proper emotional regulation.

*Sephiroth holds up a disturbingly accurate drawing of Hojo being devoured by a Zolom*

Toddler Sephiroth: :)

Lazard: Ohhh! Very good, sweetie!

Tseng:

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #sephiroth #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #zack fair #ff7 crisis core #crisis core #tseng ff7 #lazard deusericus

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traveler-at-heart · 2 years ago

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Across the Natashaverse - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Summary: After you're sent to another world, Natasha has to deal with yourself, from another universe, and a very different life.

Other POV from this fic.

“Put more weight on your left foot” Natasha says, barely checking America’s movements.

Of course she knows this is important. Maria asked her to train Chavez in the basics of hand to hand combat. Her mind is elsewhere, though.

Especifically, you.

Natasha thought she was doing you a favor, she really did. Someone as kind as you could do much better than her. Agreeing to a date would only give you false hope, so she rejected the invitation.

It was foolish of her to think that things would be the same after that. You weren’t distant or rude, though that might have been easier.

Every morning, you’d still have breakfast with her, show her funny videos or tell her about your latest discoveries in the lab with Stark, which in the end, were related to her work as well.

You simply stopped sharing your interests, or going out of your way to seek her company. Long gone were the days of sitting together at the Met while you talked about your favorite paintings. Or the grocery shopping that turned into strolls through Central Park and ended in your favorite bookshop.

All that was left now were pleasantries.

“Am I doing it right?” America asks. She sure as hell isn’t, so Natasha shakes her head, hoping she can manage to focus on the task at hand.

“Stop” she says, stepping on the sparring mat.

“Please don’t tell me you want me to fight you”

“You’re punching the air, Chavez. The only way to learn is by doing. It will be fine”

The girl doesn’t seem too convinced, but Natasha starts with slow movements and corrects America as they go. When the intensity of the training increases, the girl’s powers begin to stir. A yellow flash on the ceiling distracts Natasha, and the next thing she feels is America’s fist colliding with her cheek.

“Crap! Agent Romanoff, I’m so sorry”

But there’s another loud thud, not far from the gym.

“Did you hear that?” Natasha asks, trying to figure what the noise is.

“Maybe”

“Take a break” Natasha instructs, looking around the room to check if everything’s alright. The team is still figuring out the extent of her powers and Natasha worries the girl just unleashed a demonic creature or something.

The redhead is so focused on the room, she doesn’t notice someone approaching.

That is, until she feels a hard slap on her ass, and a sultry voice against her ear.

“There’s my favorite ass-assin”

Five seconds later, she has the intruder upside down, back against the floor, gasping for air.

“Baby, I know you don’t like my jokes but this is a little too much, don’t you think?”

It takes her a second to process what’s happening.

“Y/N?”

“Hey, love” you smirk, all smug despite being knocked down by Natasha. “The weirdest thing just happened, I was going to get a snack because Anya was moody and then fell on my ass right outside the gym”

Natasha stares at you, as if you’re speaking a foreign language. And then it all clicks. The slightly longer hair, how you smell and feel different.

She let’s go of you and starts pulling your shirt by the collar.

“Hell yeah, let’s get naked”

“Where’s your birthmark?”

“I don’t have a…”

“You’re from another world”

“Ah, that’s so sweet…” you try to lean forward and kiss her, but she pushes you away. “Babe, I’m getting mixed signals here”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., call for an emergency meeting”

—

“I’m sorry, she’s what?” Sam points at you, and Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose.

“She’s from another universe. America must have opened up a portal when we were training”

“Alright, so she just opens it back and we correct the mistake”

“It’s not that simple” Tony walks in.

“Uhm, guys. This meeting should be for Avengers only” you lower your voice, eyeing the man suspiciously.

“Hello? That table you’re sitting in so carelessly. Mahogany. Paid by me”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen this man before”

“A world without Tony Stark” Steve says, amused.

“Must be really quiet in your Compound” Sam says and you smirk.

“Why, no thanks to you. Not with all those super models you’re always bringing back to your room” you raise your eyebrows and Sam’s eyes widen.

“I date super models? I wanna go to her world”

Steve and Tony begin to argue about how that will make the multiverse collapse, when Natasha interrupts them.

“She’s messing with you, idiots”

Tony and Sam look at each other and then at you. You almost fall to the ground as you laugh. Since you’re not helpful, the team ignores you as they keep discussing the best way to identify your reality and correct the glitch.

“Y/N 2.0, we need more information about your… where did she go?” Tony grumbles.

“I got this” Natasha sighs, stomping to the kitchen. Sure enough, you’re rummaging through the fridge, complaining at every item of food you find.

“Don’t you have anything with sugar here?”

“You’re free to prepare anything for yourself”

“Not unless you want the kitchen to explode, Nat”

The redhead pushes you aside, while you look around the living room, inspecting the pictures on every place you can find.

“No wedding? Or Anya?”

“Nope” Natasha says, her voice shaking lightly.

“Why?”

“None of your business” she says, handing you a plate with a sanwich.

“Thanks. How did you know I was lying about Stark and Wilson?”

“Your voice gets all high pitched when you tell a lie” she answers, refusing to look at you.

“Huh” you mumble, taking a bite out of the sandwich. “Um. Is this peanut butter?”

“Would her Highness prefer caviar?” Natasha teases, but turns around and finds you covered in hives. “Shit!”

“That’s fine” you say, struggling to breathe. “Nothing an epi can’t fix, love”

You pass out in the middle of the kitchen, wondering if you’ll leave this foreign universe in one piece.

—

After leaving you at the medbay, Natasha goes back to the meeting room. She’s examining all the reports and missions that are related to multiverses. It’s a lot to digest, including all the quantum physics.

Alone for the first time since this whole thing started, she finally allows herself the chance to miss you. Right around this time, you’d be making dinner, and she’d be in the kitchen, pretending to help just to be close to you.

What if she never gets you back?

“Hello, there” a voice says. You approach slowly, knowing it’s best not to surprise her.

“How are you feeling? I’m really sorry…”

“There’s no way you could have known. It honestly never occurred to me that things like allergies were different” you say, patting her leg. “Interested in string theory?”

“Yeah, it’s a great ice breaker” Natasha says, and you chuckle. “You don’t seem too worried”

“The America Chavez of my world has had a bit more training. I’m sure I’ll be back home for lunch tomorrow”

“You could have said something!” Natasha feels the need to kick your ass again.

“Hey, I was gonna! And then I almost died”

“Jerk”

“What are you so worried about? She’s in a safe world”

“What if your Natasha gave Y/N a similar welcome?”

“Oh, I’m sure she had her pinned to a wall, only for very different reasons”

Natasha turns to you, alarmed. Her jealousy is so obvious that all you can do is laugh.

“There it is. I wasn’t sure you had any feelings towards her. Wanna tell me what happened?” you nudge her chair with your foot and she looks at you, annoyed.

“She asked me out, gave me flowers, I said no”

“Flowers, huh? Well, she’s more romantic than me. Natasha and I were pretending to be a couple for a mission and then I just blurted out I wouldn’t mind doing it again under different circumstances” you explain, laughing at the memory. “But hey, if flowers and chocolates aren’t your thing, I respect it”

“It’s not like that”

“Then, what is it like?”

She thinks back to all the times you’ve made her feel safe, cared for, loved. You make it look so easy, but for the life of her, Natasha can’t figure out how to reciprocate.

What you make her feel, is too good and beautiful for someone like her.

“I haven’t earned her love” is all she manages to say.

“Natasha” you call, softly, and only speak when she finally turns to you. “You don’t have to do anything to be deserving of love”

There is silence, and then you take her hand in yours.

“Come on, I’m starving. Let’s grab some Chinese”

“Fine. No more peanut butter, though. I don’t want to fight myself if something happens to you”

“Now that would be entertaining”

—

Next morning, everyone is back in the meeting room. Apparently, due to some bad experiences, they’ve decided you should come back to your world immediately, before the universes collapse.

“I promise you, it will be fine” you insist. Natasha is the only one that seems to believe you, so you save yourself the trouble and spin around in the office chair.

“Can you stop?” Steve says, irritated.

“I’m trying to create a vortex that is powerful enough to send me back to my reality, Steve” but he still glares and you stand up. “Fine. I’m getting a snack”

As you exit the room, Natasha comes running behind you.

“Wait. I wanted to apologize”

“Steve is an old grumpy man, don’t sweat it”

“No, not about that. I’m sorry for… being so hard on you when you first got here”

“We deal with aliens and all kinds of threats. It’s not so crazy to think that an intruder is dangerous. It’s all good, Nat” you shrug your shoulders.

“I just wouldn’t be ok if your Natasha had acted that way with my Y/N”

“Your Y/N?” you repeat, pleased as Natasha blushes. “Good for you, Romanoff. Get the girl. Trust me when I say, she’ll make it worth it” you wiggle your eyebrows.

“Such a flirt”

“We can’t help ourselves around you, no matter the universe”

You wink, and walk to the kitchen, leaving Natasha in the hallway.

Inevitably, she thinks about you. The one that belongs here, with her. Are you enjoying your time in that other universe? Will you resent her for bringing you back? Maybe that Natasha is more loving and sweet, and you’ll finally realise that she can’t actually make you happy…

Her thoughts begin to spiral again, until the commotion in the room breaks her train of thought.

“Damn, you fell from the ceiling” Sam says, looking up. A yellow portal closes just as Natasha opens up the door. Everyone’s around you, and when your face comes to view, Natasha’s heart almost stops.

There’s a little cut and bruising from the fall, but you’re back.

She pushes everyone, and wraps you in her arms. You return the gesture.

“Hey, it’s ok. It’s me”

She hugs you closer, smiling against your neck.

Natasha’s never letting go again.

—

“So, tell me everything!” you say, sitting next to Natasha as you drive back home. “Did I tell you I almost died to peanut exposure?”

“Looks like someone had fun” your wife comments and you smile.

“What about you, my love? Did you do anything dirty with my other self?”

“Well, there might have been some kissing and touching before I noticed…”

“Not to brag, but the other Natasha was on top of me” you say, trying to pretend like it’s no big deal your wife kissed another you.

“You pissed her off and she threw you to the ground, didn’t she?” Natasha smirks.

Damn it.

“Maybe”

Seeing your daughter brings you back to reality. Fun as it was to be in another universe, your life is perfect here.

“Mommy, are you cooking dinner again tonight?” the girl says as you carry her to the kitchen.

“Uh… let’s have lunch first, yes? Go wash your hands”

Natasha hands you a plate of what the other Y/N made and you gasp.

“Holy crap, this is delicious! Babe, not gonna lie, I wouldn’t have judged you if you fucked her against a wall after tasting her food”

“You’re such an idiot” Natasha rolls her eyes, sitting on your lap and stealing a bite of the pasta. “But you are my idiot”

“Always and in every universe, baby”

You kiss her softly, happy to be home.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff fluff

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