#My Way To You Satin Short Set

[womenofwrestlingfashion]

My Way To You Satin Short Set from Fashion Nova (out of stock)

[sevikaswinkinghole]

Nights Like This

NSFW

You and Sevika go out for date night drinks and dinner, but will Sev make it through the night with a vibrator inside her?

CW: afab!reader, pet names, mentions of reader on period, face riding, public sex, porn with very little plot, Sevika drinks but isn’t drunk

Word count: 2.4k

The dark of night peaked over the horizon outside of the large window you peered through. The golden amber and pink swirls of the sun setting added to the romantic aura of the jazz restaurant you sat in with your love next to you. It was date night for you and Sevika, and you suggested a new jazz club with raving reviews and a great wine menu.

The night was going perfectly so far, you sat in a dark booth near the back next to the window, had ample privacy, and a great view of the stage where a jazz band sat playing old hits and romantic ballads.

You hummed softly as you looked at the expansive menu, casually looking at the wine selection and caressing your girl’s trembling thigh. Sevika sat beside you with her head in her hands, thighs shaking under the table as she wiggled around uncomfortably. You bit back a smile as you opened your phone, trying to keep a neutral expression on your face while looking at the settings of the app controlling the vibrator inside Sevika. Your mind wandered back to a few hours ago…

⋆°•☁︎⋆

“Love, are you almost ready?” You called out, fixing your earrings and smoothing your dress out in the full length mirror in front of you. You wore a simple black satin midi dress, the softness of the fabric draping over your curves as you paired it with kitten heels and a striking red bag for a pop of color.

Sevika walked over from the other side of the room and admired your figure, her large flesh hand running over the soft fabric of your dress in adoration. You couldn’t help the flutter in your stomach at the sight of her in the mirror, she was truly a marvel to look at. She wore plain slacks and a matching black button up with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows to show off her muscular arms and freshly polished prosthetic. Her short hair covered her eyes as she brushed her knuckles against the smooth satin of your dress and pressed a gentle love filled kiss on your shoulder.

“Ready when you are doll, but,” She paused and picked up a small box off your shared dresser “Wanted to try this tonight..”

She held up a vibrator box in the mirror, the image on the front showing the shape of the phallic object. The oblong head was shaped like an egg, and it trailed off into a long tail with a smaller vibe at the tip of it. Sevika bought it during your last anniversary as a gag gift and you never had an opportunity to put it to use.

You glanced at the box and continued with fixing your outfit, trying to ignore the throbbing heat that began between your thighs. “I came on my period this evening hun, I’d make a mess all over the restaurant..” your words trail off as you spin around in Sevika’s strong arms, running your hands along her broad shoulders with an innocent smile “But we could always test it out…some other way”

⋆°•☁︎⋆

Sevika panting softly brought you back to the present, her body tensing and releasing every few seconds while the vibrator hummed low and slow inside her spongy core. The agonizing vibrations burned and wrecked her in ways she hadn’t felt before, and the vibrator was only at a low setting. She had never been the object of this level of torture, and the intense pressure that gathered below her navel was something she couldn’t get used to. The constant low buzzing and lewd thoughts clouded Sevika’s mind to the point where she could barely speak.

Big strong Sevika was utterly speechless and at the mercy of you with a stupid app and a little vibrator that made her feel so soft and pliable, she was kinda getting off on it. The lack of control, the feeling of being so exposed in the crowded restaurant, everything about the evening pushed her so far out of her comfort zone that she couldn’t help but throb with need for release. You turned from your phone to check on your poor baby, your hand gently reaching out to caress her hair. You wiped away the sweat that started to bead along her hair line as you saw her body freeze under the feeling of your touch.

“How you doin’ Vika? Hm?” You cooed, her head peering up from her shaking hands to glance at you. Her pupils dilated as her lower lip trembled.

“I-Im…uh..good….” She mumbled, trying to clear her throat from the strangled noise that threatened to slip out. You bit back a smirk at seeing her all flustered, it wasn’t easy to get Sevika so riled up, but you could tell the effect of the vibrator was wearing into the older woman.

A perky waitress soon walked up to your table with water and silverware, she then introduced herself before pulling out a little pad of paper and a pen to take your order.

“We’ll start with a bottle of merlot for the table, and do you want anything else my love?” You asked Sevika with a sweet grin, her eyes flickering to you before shaking her head silently. The waitress nodded and left with a turn of her heel, leaving you giggling in your seat. Sevika’s silence and obvious struggle made you feel so powerful, having your girlfriend’s pleasure in the palm of your hand and seeing her so wrecked was intoxicating. It gave you a rush that you knew you’d have to chase until one (or both) of you were satisfied. Your hand moved to rub slow circles in Sevika’s back as your thumb pressed a button on your phone, increasing the vibrations from low to medium.

Sevika sat upright and groaned low and rough, her head leaning back against the booth chair as her eyes squeezed shut. The tail of the vibrator had a smaller clit stimulator at the tip, which rubbed painfully against Sevika’s sensitive nub. She was practically leaking through her boy-shorts as the vibrations ruined her from the inside. You could barely hear the hum of the vibrator, but the look on Sevika’s face told you it was enough to wreck her. Her flesh hand balled up into a tight fist while her mech hand gripped the table for dear life, trying to stabilize herself in the most discrete way possible. The vibrator was lodged so deep inside her pussy, the tip of the egg rocked against her aching g-spot deliciously, the intensity making her back arch away from the palm of your hand.

“Baby if it’s too much please let me know,” You whisper as you lean in closer to her ear, lips dangerously close to the sensitive skin as your nose nuzzled against her neck “It would be a shame if you made a mess all over the seat~” You chuckle darkly, your teasing words egging you both on in a game neither of you had a chance of winning. Sevika whined softly and tried to scoot away from your crude words, but her sudden movement made the tail end of the vibrations nudge her clit harder.

Sevika’s whole body jolted forward, her trembling hands finding their way back to hide her blushing face. She was so utterly embarrassed, the vibrations were fully controlling her mind and body to the point where she couldn’t even think straight. Her mind was fogged over with such pleasure, she had to resist using your hands to get her off right there under the table.

The waitress soon after brought over the bottle of wine in an ice bucket and two glasses, setting them in front of you both before asking about food and appetizers. You could tell Sevika would barely last through the bottle of wine, let alone a full dinner and possibly dessert.

“I think we’ll just stick with the wine for tonight,” You spoke clearly with a polite smile, Sevika’s silence remaining as she yanked the wine bottle from the bucket and poured a full glass for herself. The waitress nodded and furrowed her brow at Sevika’s actions before walking off.

You watched as your flustered girlfriend downed the first glass of wine, wiping her mouth clean before going in for another glass. You grabbed her hand and tried not to laugh at how desperately she gripped the glass with her mech hand.

“Vika slow down! The wine might make it worse.” You spoke with a cheeky grin as Sevika shook her head.

“Need s-somethin’ to distract me..” She grumbled and poured another glass, leaving you with less than half of the bottle left. You shook your head and laughed softly as you poured your own glass, knowing the night would end much differently now.

Sevika was at her wits end by the last sip of her third glass of wine. She was sweating profusely as her hips unceremoniously grinded against the seat below her, waves of intense pleasure coursing through her worn body. As you suspected, the expensive wine with notes of cherry and chocolate, only added to Sevika’s aching desire. The rich red wine coursed through her bloodstream and greatly added to the intense heat radiating off her (and inside her). And with the added pressure of you turning the vibrations on high, your girlfriend was past the point of caring about anybody else in that restaurant. She was soaking wet and ready to finish.

Before you could even register her movements, she pushed you out of the corner booth and onto your feet, pulling you by the hand towards the back of the building.

“Sev wait!-” You exclaimed as she pushed her way through people to get to the single use bathroom. She kept a look out for workers as she pulled you inside, locking the door quickly behind you as her large frame pinned you against it. Sevika panted heavily, her sparkly grey eyes pleading with you wordlessly as her thighs shook from intense pain and pleasure.

“H-Help me doll..it’s too much i’m f’nna lose it….” She groans, mech hand placed against the door for stability as her flesh one wrapped around the back of your neck and pulled you in for a filthy kiss. It was all tongue and warm breath as you french kissed her, your hands moving to loosen the belt secured along Sevika’s waist. You pulled down the belt and slacks before Sevika used her grip around your neck to pull you away from the indecent kiss and push you down onto your knees.

She pulled down her underwear to expose the obscene wetness dripping from them, it soaked through the thin fabric and coated her muscular thighs, your mouth drooling as you watched a droplet of slick drip from the neon pink vibrator going mad inside of her. She slowly pulled the vibrator out of her wrecked pussy and moaned as it exited, moving her mech hand from the door to grip your lower jaw and force your mouth open.

“Open wide..” She growled, the drenched toy still buzzing as she pressed it against your tongue, letting you taste the mess she created. You moaned at the salty taste of the toy as your tongue swirled around it, Sevika’s pheromones driving you wild as your spit mixed with her wetness that dripped from your mouth. The pornographic moan that escaped your mouth only made you hungry for more as you looked up at her through fluttering lashes. She pulled the toy from your mouth and moved her mechanical hand to grab a forceful fist of your hair, pulling your head back as she angled her hips over your mouth.

“You caused this mess, clean it up” Sevika smirked as she pushed your face directly into her warm mound. Your nose rested in the thick dark hair on her mons as you buried your tongue deep between her folds, lapping up her sweet secretion like you’d never eat again. The aromatic musk of her skin and sweat filled your nose while your hands found their way up to her ass, you gripped the plump skin desperately as Sevika moaned and whimpered on top of your face. The previous stimulations had her so gone that her needy thrusts against your warm mouth were uneven and haste, her approaching orgasm evident.

“F-Fuuck that mouth…” Sevika groaned seductively, the lewd sounds escaping her mouth making your thighs rub together to sooth your own throbbing “Got me s-so riled up, need you so bad baby..” The older woman babbled hopelessly over you, chasing the growing orgasm that threatened to rip through her very soul.

Her hips humped into your mouth fervently, strangled moans leaving her drooling lips as you hollowed your cheeks to suck on her clit. Your finger nails dig deep into her skin as your eyes open to watch the show on top of you. Sevika was coated in a thin layer of sweat, the sheen on her brown skin elevating her beauty as strands of hair stuck to her slick forehead. Her soft grey eyes were clamped shut as her hips moved in lazy circles against your wet tongue. The pleasure was so intense, she couldn’t bear to look at how perfect you looked on your knees in a dirty bathroom just to get her off.

The thought alone made the climbing orgasm in her stomach boil over and wreck through her body, her grip on your hair tightening as she let out a depraved moan while rutting into your sore mouth to ride out her high. Your jaw burned at just how hard she fucked your mouth, but you wouldn’t have it any over way.

You slowly pull away as thin strands of spit and slick connect you to Sevika’s pulsating core. You groan greedily and press an open mouth kiss directly on her sensitive nub, wishing you could surgically attach yourself between her muscular legs. She winced and flinched away, chuckling low and evil as she grabbed her pants and underwear from the floor.

“Enough of that, let’s get home so I can return the favor sweetness.” Sevika smirked as she helped you off the floor, this allowing you to dust your knees off while she put her slacks back on.

“I’m on my period remember?”

“Did I ask?” Sevika spoke with a dark look in her eye as she unlocked and opened the bathroom door, tapping your ass as you walked through it and towards the exit of the restaurant.

You couldn’t help the blush on your cheeks as you headed home with Sevika, the slight wobble in her step matching your bruised knees in perfect synchronicity.

Hi sweetiesssss! ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

writers block has been fucking me raw with no lube so,,,i'm sorry for disappearing! it will probably happen again 😅

You know the drill, ily ily ily and thank you for reading!!! drink some water and remember to eat <3

Love,

Squuoosh ❤︎₊ ⊹

Taglist: @lonerslug , @sapphicstrawcore

[mephisto-reporting]

Silk, Satin and Sensual

Premise: Headcanons on his preferences for lingerie and his reaction when he sees you in them. Based on this request. Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. This is suggestive. Please do not interact if you are a minor. Caleb version is out!!. If you wanted to be added to my taglist, please DM, ask or comment :D Content warning: Suggestive. MNDI.

XAVIER

Xavier has a thing for soft, celestial tones like white, cream, silvers and muted golds. He’s drawn to fabrics that shimmer faintly, almost like starlight against your skin. He has a thing for delicate patterns, like lacework.

Sheer materials like mesh and chiffon drive him wild, especially if they reveal just enough to leave him craving more. He prefers the balance of teasing and revealing, where the fabric hints at your curves without fully exposing them.

He’s absolutely obsessed with your thighs and prefers lingerie that accentuates them. Garter belts, thigh-high stockings, and intricate lace shorts are his kryptonite.

If you have small celestial accents like tiny golden stars or moon charms hanging from the garters… good fucking luck. You are not walking the next day.

He has an unapologetic habit of tearing your lingerie when he loses control, so he’s constantly replacing your wardrobe. His explanation? “It’s not my fault they’re made so fragile. I’ll get you something sturdier—next time.”

Once the damage is done and your new lingerie is in shreds, Xavier looks annoyingly unbothered. He’ll casually toss the ruined piece aside and murmur, “Guess I’ll have to buy you another.”

He’ll commission a lingerie set made of delicate ivory lace with gold threads woven into it, shaped to mimic constellations. He’ll surprise you with thigh-high stockings that have faint, shimmering patterns running up the sides. These are always paired with garter belts because he loves tugging on them when he is intimate with you.

He’ll leave the box on your bed, wrapped in soft cream paper with a gold ribbon. Inside, there’s always a handwritten note in his steady handwriting. “For you. You’re too beautiful not to be dressed like the stars themselves.”

His reactions:

The moment he sees you in lingerie, his carefully composed demeanor melts away, replaced by an intense, almost predatory focus. His eyes lock onto your thighs, and his voice becomes a low murmur laced with want. He is the definition of: his eyes darkened.

Xavier likes the idea that these pieces are chosen specifically for his eyes. If anyone else saw you in them, even accidentally, it would ignite a streak of jealousy.

If you walk past him too many times, deliberately flaunting the look, he’ll finally snap. One moment, you’re teasing him; the next, you’re backed against the wall with his hands tracing the garter straps. “Do you want me to tear this off?” he’ll ask, his voice soft but carrying that dangerous edge. Spoiler: He’s already decided the answer.

ZAYNE

Zayne prefers earthy tones—rich browns, deep greens, warm ambers, and muted burgundies. These hues remind him of natural beauty, grounding yet alluring. He loves subtle details like lace trim, delicate straps that crisscross your back, or a ribbon that ties just above your hips—small elements that add to the allure.

Zayne is drawn to pieces that accentuate your waist. Corset-style lingerie, high-waisted panties, or teddies with cinched designs are his favorites. He admires the way they create an hourglass effect, appreciating your silhouette.

He has a thing for materials that feel good to the touch: silky satins, fine lace, and soft mesh. The tactile experience is as important to him as the visual.

Zayne has impeccable taste, selecting pieces that balance seduction with sophistication. Think satin teddies with plunging necklines or lace bodysuits with subtle, sheer paneling. He gravitates toward lingerie sets that emphasize your natural beauty rather than overwhelming it—clean lines, elegant accents, and designs that celebrate your form.

When Zayne gifts you lingerie, he makes it an intimate experience. He’ll lay the gift on the bed, wrapped in tissue paper with a single dried flower,something earthy and subtle, like a sprig of lavender or rosemary. His note is direct: “For when you’re ready to let me admire you properly.”

Zayne picks quality over quantity. He’d rather gift you one stunning, well-made piece than several forgettable ones. His selections are designed to last—not that he always gives them the chance to.

His gaze never wavers. When you wear lingerie, Zayne’s eyes lock on yours before slowly traveling down your body, making you feel like the most captivating thing in the world.

There’s no ripping it off, but it won’t take long before he’s slipping the fabric off. He’s not gentle, but he’s not reckless either. There’s a certain hunger in how he undresses you.

His Reaction:

When you walk into the room wearing one of his carefully chosen pieces, Zayne’s reaction is immediate. His calm is replaced by a sharp intake of breath, his eyes trailing over you with an intensity that makes the air feel heavier.

Zayne’s fingers brush over the fabric with deliberate slowness, his palms lingering against the soft satin at your hips. “Feels even better than I imagined,” he murmurs, his lips quirking into a heated smirk. “But I think it’d feel better on the floor.”

If you tease him, letting a strap fall off your shoulder or adjusting the lace just so—Zayne’s control begins to crack. His hands are on you instantly, his voice dropping to a growl. “You like testing me, don’t you? Keep it up, and you’ll see what happens.”

RAFAYEL

Rafayel is drawn to soft, pastel shade like gentle blues, lavender, and delicate purples. He prefers lingerie that’s sweet and soft, evoking a sense of innocence while still being sensual.

He gravitates towards cuter lingerie like bralette sets with flowing chiffon accents, babydolls with sheer overlays, or high-waisted lingerie shorts. He likes pieces that don’t reveal too much but are so alluring that he cannot keep his eyes off you.

Rafayel is obsessed with fine details such as silver waistbands that drape lightly like jewelry, chokers that gleam with tiny pearls, delicate chain straps on your bra, tiny dangling gemstones, or trims that sparkle subtly in the light.

Sheer robes, flowing fabrics, and fluttering hems draw his gaze as they cling to your skin over your lingerie like water waves. If you are wearing a lingerie, fresh out of the shower with your hair still wet, it is game over for this man.

Rafayel treats every moment with you in lingerie as sacred. He doesn’t rush; instead, he takes his time, savoring every detail like an artist admiring their finest work

Rafayel is the kind of person who doesn’t just buy off the shelf. He’ll have something specially commissioned for you, likely a set of lingerie that reflects your personality and his artistic sensibilities. His commission might even include small charms that are Lemuria inspired.

Rafayel, though loving, is bashful when it comes to gifting lingerie. He would likely have the lingerie sent to you without a grand reveal, perhaps bundled with other gifts like chocolates, perfume, scarves that might distract from his true intentions. His note will be brief, almost casual: “Some pieces I thought you'd appreciate, seeing as you're always so fashionable.”

His Reaction:

The first time you step out wearing one of his custom sets, a soft lavender bralette with delicate gold chain accents and a matching choker—Rafayel freezes. Rafayel can’t stop staring, though he tries to look away, his hand rising to cover his mouth as his blush deepens. “I-I didn’t think it would suit you this perfectly…” he stammers, his gaze flicking back to you despite himself.

“I… I didn’t mean for it to be so… um… revealing,” he stammers, eyes lingering on the intricate lace and the subtle gleam of the small jewels. “But… you look… divine.” When Rafayel touches the fabric, his fingers tremble against your skin. He’s so gentle, almost reverently so, as though touching you in this way is an act of worship.

"It’s like you’re wearing my art… and I can’t stop admiring it." His gaze will flicker between your face and the lingerie, doing his best to hold himself together. “Why are you doing this to me?” he’ll murmur with desire. “I just want to keep you here... like this... for as long as possible.” he whispers, voice barely audible, as though if he spoke louder, he might break the spell.

SYLUS

Sylus gravitates toward bold, classic colors like deep blacks, rich reds, and occasionally luxurious whites, midnight blues or dark emerald greens. These colors resonate with him. He appreciates the elegance of these shades, as they exude sophistication and bold sensuality.

He’s a silk and satin man through and through. These fabrics are smooth, luxurious, and irresistible to his touch. He loves how they glide over your skin and how they feel beneath his fingertips.

He loves classic, timeless lingerie: lacy bras with garter belts, high-cut panties that highlight your legs, and elegant teddies that hug every curve. Think luxury brands and couture pieces that scream sensuality.

Occasionally, Sylus surprises you with bolder, risqué styles: Cage-style bras with open backs, strappy bodysuits that playfully expose just enough skin, lingerie with sheer panels, leaving little to the imagination.

He doesn’t tear or rush; instead, he carefully folds each piece, placing it aside after everything is said and done. “I’ll want to see this on you again.” he explains with a sly smirk

Sylus doesn’t stop at gifting you a single set. Every outfit in your closet has a matching pair of lingerie. You’ll find lingerie for every occasion. Sylus alwayssurprise you with a box containing lingerie hidden among other extravagant gifts—fine jewelry, luxurious robes, or even a custom-made vanity to store your collection: “Maybe my luck is not be so bad if I am the only man who gets to see you in these, sweetie.”

For Sylus, lingerie isn’t just for the bedroom. He loves seeing you lounge in one of his tailored sets, reclining on his sofa as you read or listen to music together. Sylus is content to let his hands roam over the satin, enjoying the feel of it warmed by your skin. “Stay like this,” he’ll say softly, his voice a mix of command and yearning. “I want to keep you close.”

True to his nature, Sylus has a habit of keeping little trophies. He has a drawer in one of his private residences dedicated to these keepsakes  as a reminder of your shared moments. If you ever catch him in the act of placing something there, he’ll simply shrug with a sly grin. “Can you blame me? I keep what’s mine.”

His Reaction:

When you step into the room wearing something he’s chosen for you, Sylus’ composed exterior falters, just slightly. His gaze darkens, and his lips curl into a small, satisfied smirk. He’ll take a slow step toward you, one hand tucked casually in his pocket, the other reaching out to trail a finger down the silk, letting it rest against your hip.

Without hesitation, he’ll scoop you into his arms, carrying you effortlessly to where he wants you—be it the bedroom, his grand leather chair in the study, or even the chaise lounge in front of the fireplace. “I’m not letting you out of my sight when you like this.”

Sylus never tears your lingerie—he unwraps you like the most precious gift, his hands moving with reverent care. “You deserve to be savored, not rushed.” he whispers, his gaze locked on you. He’ll seat you on his lap or lay you down, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate movements along the fabric. The lingerie is not just for his pleasure, it is for yours as well.  

CALEB

Caleb prefers lingerie that’s just for him—sexy yet teasing, revealing enough to drive him mad but covering just enough to make him desperate.

Caleb gravitates toward sleek, understated sensuality. He favors deep, alluring colors like navy, black, and dark burgundy, shades that hint at elegance but still feel undeniably intimate. However, he has a soft spot for delicate lilacs and soft purples, especially when they complement your skin.

Minimal but devastatingly effective designs have him on edge. Thin straps barely holding everything together, high-cut panties that accentuate your legs, delicate bralettes that are more about aesthetics than practicality. He loves when the details like lace appliques or ribbon ties demand his attention. Anything he can tug, unravel, or ruin.

Let’s be real. Caleb is not a man who delicately undresses you. He’s been patient his entire life, watching, waiting, restraining himself. The moment you’re finally his? He’s not taking his time. “You knew what would happen when you put this on, didn’t you?” His voice is low, rough—before the sound of tearing lace fills the room.

If you ever wonder why pieces of your lingerie mysteriously disappear, don’t. Caleb takes them when you’re not looking, slipping them into his uniform pockets or luggage when he’s preparing for deployment. He’s possessive, obsessive, and when he’s away on fleet missions, he wants something of yours to keep with him. A delicate lace garter? A silk chemise you once wore to bed? He’ll tuck them away like trophies, running his fingers over them late at night, mind filled with thoughts of you.

He’s a man who gives gifts with purpose. He knows exactly what you want, and he knows what he wants. If he’s getting you that plushie you mentioned offhandedly, or the book you’ve been dying to read, you will find a carefully wrapped lingerie set alongside it. Every gift is a two-for-one deal—his way of spoiling you while satisfying his own desires. Tucked inside, there’s always a note with cheeky messages: "Making dinner tonight. But if you wear this, you'll be the dessert."

Caleb is the picture of patience in public. He knows what you’re wearing underneath your dress—he saw you put it on, watched every slow movement in the mirror. But he doesn’t let it show. Not a single twitch of his lips, not a single shift in his stance. He leans down, lips brushing your ear, his voice impossibly calm: “You’re going to regret this later.”

There is one thing that drives him past the point of no return— his clothes on you. Seeing you in his oversized shirt is one thing, but if he catches you lounging in his boxers? He’s done. His fingers dig into the waistband, his voice a rough whisper against your ear. “You must really like testing me, huh?” His breath is hot against your neck, his hands already tugging the waistband lower. Any plans you had for the day? Gone.

His Reaction:

When you step into the room, wearing something meant just for him, his expression darkens immediately. There’s a brief flicker of something feral in his purple eyes—desire, possessiveness, raw hunger. He doesn’t say a word at first, just stands there, his breath held. “You expect me to behave after this?” His patience is frayed, and it's clear he’s barely holding onto his composure.

Try to tease him, make him work for it and he’ll let you, for a moment. He enjoys the chase, the way you think you’re in control. But the moment he decides he’s had enough? You’re done for. One second, he’s watching you with quiet intensity, and the next, you’re beneath him, your wrists pinned, your breath stolen by the sheer force of his presence.

When he touches you, it’s as if he can’t get enough—his fingers move with purpose, reverence, but there’s an undeniable urgency. “You’re mine. Always.” And with that, his lips crash against yours, taking what’s his. There’s no gentle teasing here—this is pure, unfiltered desire. It’s clear there’s no going back now. You’ve pushed him past the point of no return. The soft, teasing lace may have been your choice—but now everything that happens from there is his.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

taglist: @cordidy

[jamminvroomvroom]

busy.

ln x fem!reader

in which there’s a whole club of people waiting to celebrate the race winner, but he’s a bit busy…

hehehehe i’ve been cooking this one up since he won!! obsessed with this, it’s really not my best work in terms of literary masterpieces, but…. it’s horny self indulgence. enjoy, lemme know what you think, love you!!!

songs to set the mood: the alchemy by taylor swift, agora hills by doja cat, so high school by taylor swift, starboy by the weeknd

warnings: 18+!! minors dni i am so serious! this is just. porn without plot (with a lil plot) like this is peak feral needy lando, dom!lando, oral (f&m receiving), spanking, accidental voyeurism?, max verstappen, dry humping, unprotected sex (don’t do that!), touch of fluff as well, established relationship, crying, overstimulation

3.8k words

tears well in your eyes, the blurry screen telling you absolutely nothing, but it doesn’t matter anymore. he’s done it. the screams engulfing the garage seem to rattle all around you, the vibrations pushing your elation up another notch.

lando norris, formula 1 race winner.

your lando.

his voice floods your ears, so loud that the headphones seem to quiver as he screeches. a few tears roll thick down your face when he thanks his mum and dad, dedicates the win to his grandma, but then he says your name and you forget how to breathe.

“i’m nothing without you, baby.” his voice breaks, and your body is wracked with sobs.

various arms are slung over your shoulder, members of the team guiding you out of the garage and into parc ferme. the metal barrier digs into your ribs as you lean against it, desperate to catch a glimpse of him. his car rolls into position, the p1 marker sending another wave of emotion through you, and when he pulls himself out, he stands tall, proud, points to the sky.

you fall in love with him all over again.

he’s slapped on the back and passed around by the drivers but when he sets his sights on the sea of orange, nothing else exists. he’s flying over your head before you can even register it, elevated by the team and you watch him in awe. when he sees you, eyes locking with yours, a heart-melting, pantie-dropping grin spreads across his face and you can see the redness lining his eyes.

i love you he mouthes.

he’s lowered to the ground, spinning round to face you immediately. he tugs you as close as he can, the barrier definitely leaving it’s mark on both of you, and kisses you messily. all of the energy that he has left, all that he can muster, is put into the kiss, leaving you breathless, tugging on the fabric of his race suit like you’ll die if he gets taken away.

“‘m so proud of you.” you whisper against his lips, shivering as his thumbs graze your cheekbones.

“i love you so fucking much.” he beams, teeth clashing with yours when he kisses you with a smile.

“go get that trophy, mr norris.” you coo, and he winks, pressing his lips to your forehead. then, he’s gone.

champagne vapour leaves your skin sticky.

-

“lando, we gotta go.” you breathe, head rolling back to give him even more access to your strained neck, resting against the door of your shared hotel room.

you’re draped in orange satin, obviously, the short dress clinging to you deliciously, the one you always pack just in case. lando had been trying to convince you to stay in and let him have his way with you, and the second he walked out of the bathroom, still dripping from his shower, there was no way the pair of you were heading anywhere in a hurry.

“says who?” he grunts, his hips digging into yours.

“there’s a whole club waiting to celebrate with you-“

“the only person i want to celebrate with is you.” he punctuates his words with a harsh nip of his teeth.

“lando.” you whine in protest, not because you actually want him to stop, but because you don’t want to deprive him of a night out with his friends.

“try and convince me to go one more time, and i’ll edge you until you fucking cry.” he licks up your neck, tugging you from against the door, and guides you towards the bed. “and when you’re begging for me to make you cum, i’ll get you dressed up all pretty and we’ll go to the club with you dripping down your thighs.”

your lips quivers, caught between your teeth at his promise. you know he means it. his eyes darken when you nod quickening your pace until you’re stood at the foot of the bed. he’d only made it as far as putting his jeans on, so you rake your nails down his chest, watching as the tanned skin pales as you dig your fingertips in.

you teeter on your tip toes, leaning up to kiss him but he pulls back, smirking, holding you at arms length while he wiggles his jeans off and clambers onto the bed. you pout, watching him position himself up against the headboard, curling two fingers that beckon you forwards. you kick off your heels, crawling up the bed until you sit pretty on his lap, your dress riding up your thighs as you straddle him, leaving the lace of your panties flush against the cotton of his underwear.

you lean in to kiss him, but his fingers catch your chin, holding you back. you whine at the way he restrains you for a second time, wanting nothing more to melt into his frame while you lick into his mouth. he tuts, damp curls falling over his forehead.

“five minutes ago you wanted to go out.” lando tilts his head accusingly, a teasing lilt to his tone.

“changed my mind.” you hum, attempting to roll your hips. he slaps your thigh, light enough that it doesn’t hurt, hard enough that you sink into submission.

“you’re gonna have to prove that to me.” he sighs, feigning sympathy. you’re pulsing against him, and he can feel the damp heat of your cunt. “you’re gonna grind your little pussy on me until i can see how wet you are. gotta convince me, baby.” he grins at you, flashing his teeth. your jaw goes slack.

“lan.” you moan, eyes widening at his instruction.

“show me how bad you wanna congratulate me.” lando’s voice drops an octave, gravelly and direct, sending bolts of lightning down your spine.

you rock your hips over his bulge, slowly at first, tentative for the first couple of glides. you can feel how hard he is, your clit bumping the thick head of his cock as you grind down on him. your wetness begins to seep through the skimpy lace as you pick up the pace, revelling in the friction, the fire that you’ve lit between your two bodies.

lando makes no effort to help you, not at first, watching smugly as you slick him up. he can feel your warmth washing over him, the way you struggle to keep going as the pleasure builds. he focuses his eyes on the splotch growing on his crotch, honing in on the way your folds are slipping out of your quite frankly useless underwear. his lip catches between his teeth, pupils blown wide. his self restraint completely dissolves, one hand tangling in your hair, slotting his lips over yours, while his other flies to your waist forcing your hips backwards and forwards.

“wanna get my tongue on you, taste the mess you’ve made.” he mumbles against your lips. your thighs clench around his waist, rutting frantically on his lap. “‘n then i’m gonna get my fingers inside of you. it’ll be so easy, won’t it? can feel you dripping already. messy girl.”

“please.” you rasp. “lando, i need you.” you’re pleading, pushing his curls back and tugging hard at the chocolate strands.

“oh, honey,” he starts, flipping you onto your back. you gasp, smoothing your hands over the slope of his back, your nails raking between his shoulder blades. “i’m gonna have you exactly how i want you.”

he doesn’t have to work too hard to get you naked, peeling sodden lace down your thighs and shoving the satin of your dress over your tits, off of your frame. it cascades onto the floor, wrinkled in a heap, but you couldn’t possibly care less, not when he’s snaking down your body on a mission. his tongue drags over your clavicle, over the curve of your breast, stopping briefly to tease your nipple. he scrapes his teeth over the bud, continuing his trail over your abdomen, the plush skin of your belly.

“say please.” lando taunts, staring up at you through thick lashes. he rests his head against your hip bone, raising an eyebrow. you’re shaking already, in no mood to play games. if this is what he wants, you can’t deny him. he’s your race winner.

“please, baby. want your tongue on me.” you pant, softening your eyes in sheer desperation.

“where?” he coos, punctuating his borderline cruel question with soft kisses over your navel.

you smile coyly, keeping eye contact as your fingers dart between your spread thighs. you dip into your folds, splaying them open for him, tracing your clit a few times. you’re utterly soaked, impressed almost.

“right here.” you’re blushing, but you know just how he likes it, and your tactics are proven right when he groans, guttural and feral, pinning your thighs to the mattress.

your head thuds against the pillows at the sensation of the first swipe, his tongue dragging from your opening to your swollen clit. his face is submerged between your thighs, you can’t see him anymore, but you can certainly feel him. you can feel the slow glide of his tongue, tasting every little drop of you, can feel the vibration when he hums out in pure bliss.

it makes your head spin, the way most guys would expect you to drop to your knees, but lando gets his kicks on his, lost between your thighs. your eyes roll back every time he burrows himself deeper, slurping obscenely where you’re dripping.

“lando!” you grit your teeth, nearing the edge, and it spurs him on, two fingers running up the crease of your thigh, lathering through your wetness.

the digits glide inside of you seamlessly, casting an echo of noise that makes you blush. he groans against your clit - you’re utterly soaked - sending a buzz shooting up your spine.

“oh, baby.” he slurs, enticed, rutting against the mattress. you’re in an absolute state, and it’s all his fault.

two fingers curl, your feet kick out uncontrollably, and he laughs, laughs, into your cunt. you can’t help yourself, barrelling towards your release, unable to resist the rush of white hot pleasure. he fucks his fingers into you even faster, you scream, throat going raw as he scissors in and out of you. your foot finds his shoulder, trying to kick him away, teetering dangerously close to the brink of overstimulation. he doesn’t let it phase him, aside from the furrowing of his brows in annoyance, slinging your leg over his shoulder and splitting you open.

“my- oh god.” you choke, spasming up the mattress. he’s not even thrusting his fingers anymore, instead he’s grinding them against that one special spot, sucking hard at your clit.

you cum again, limp on the mattress, eyes squeezed shut. you’re slurring his name, babbling incoherently when he pulls off of you, sitting back on his knees. he looks proud of himself, too proud, smirking at your lifeless body. you feel like you’re part of the mattress, so sunken into it and exhausted. he’s covered in you, lips swollen maroon, fingers coated. every part of him that has touched you seems to shine in the dim light. his curls have dried now, fluffy and untamed, falling over his greying eyes.

“taste better than champagne.” he whispers, falling onto his forearms and caging you in.

your skin litters with goosebumps, his bare chest against yours, and you crane your head, lazily kissing him. you can taste yourself on his lips, mouthing down his jaw until you reach the sensitive skin below his ear. you scrape your teeth down his jugular, slow, sinking in softly to the bulk of his shoulder. he falters, shivering, collapsing his entire body weight onto you.

plump lips suck purple splotches onto the base of his neck, where no one will see.

you want him to lose control, ram into you and fuck you like he’ll die if he doesn’t, so you continue to tease, misbehave as you rake your teeth over his bronzed skin. his eyes are shut, thick lashes dusting his cheekbones as he succumbs to your torture. your hand skims his belly, muscles pulled taut under your fingertips, and you find the band of his boxers, dipping under the fabric. he registers your touch, and something within him snaps, his eyes flying open. he rolls off of you, finding his feet as he moves from the bed to the mini fridge.

“on your knees.” he grins at you, beckoning you to the carpeted floor.

you’re dazed, staring at the green bottle in his hands. condensation runs down the thick glass of the champagne bottle and you blank, utterly perplexed by what he’s about to do, your thighs involuntarily clenching. lando’s impatient, tutting as his hand wraps around your ankle, tugging you down the bed towards him. you’re shocked back to reality by his brazenness, scrambling from the mattress. you fall to your knees, licking your lips in anticipation, watching him through gleaming doe eyes. he softens, captivated by how ready you are for him, but it’s short-lived and the smirk returns.

“go on, baby. you know what to do.” lando strokes your cheek soothingly. your fingers curl into his waistband once again, and this time he lets you drag his boxers down. his cock springs free, hard and weeping, and your mouth fills with saliva, urgently taking him into your hand. “open wide.”

you look up at him just in time, watching how he raises the champagne bottle. he shakes it, once, twice, and your jaw drops as he pops the bottle. the liquid sprays, frothy and golden, dripping down your chest, over your tits, down your belly. you’re sticky, stickier, watching him in awe as the liquid pools around your knees. you notice how he’s glistening, the spray catching his abs, dripping south.

the noise he makes is carnal, a sigh of relief sounding when you lick over his hip bone, tracing your tongue over his pelvis until you reach the base of his cock. his hips stutter when you take him between your lips, the tip hitting the back of your throat as he immediately gives in to the warmth of your wet mouth. one of his hands works through your hair, bobbing you backwards and forwards, the other clasping tight around the neck of the bottle. he raises it to his parted lips, tipping his head back as he does, the liquid falling into his mouth. your eyes trace the curve of his neck, the swell of his lips, the way his knuckles have turned white contrasting the green glass. you wouldn’t be surprised if you were dripping onto the carpet.

“look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” lando grins dopily, his nails scratching over your scalp. the moan that emits, low and needy from the back of your throat, makes him shudder. “enough now.” he pulls you off of him, but he leaves you on your knees.

the hand in your hair travels to cup your jaw, his thumb flush against your reddened lips. he pulls them apart, bringing the bottle down to your level. you accept it, welcoming the fizzy burst of liquid, swallowing it down in gulps that make your head spin. there’s pride in his eyes when you keeps yours trained on him.

“so good for me, so well behaved.” he mumbles, more to himself it seems, but the praise still leaves you weak.

lando extends his hands, the bottle forgotten on the desk, and he pulls you to your feet, flush against him. you grab at him desperately, pawing at his lean body like he’ll disappear.

“you’re so pretty.” he whispers, nosing over your jaw. you flush, cheeks tinting deep and warm. “‘m so in love with you.” he purrs into your ear.

heat and raw emotion flood through your veins, and you’re shoving him backwards towards the bed, climbing on top of him. your knees bump his hips as you straddle him, your hair fanning his shoulders as you kiss him hard.

“love you. ‘m so proud. wanna show you.” your words come out frenzied, muffled as they get lost to his mouth. your teeth clash with his, his winning smile moulding against yours.

“yeah, baby? gonna show me?” lando’s eyes rake over your frame, his hands guiding your hips. you raise yourself up, your hands lining you up, and then…

“oh.”

“fuck.”

you sink down on him, filling yourself up slowly, the both of you panting already. the glide is slow, easy; he’s so big but you’re so wet.

“aren’t you glad we didn’t go out?” he hisses through gritted teeth, entranced by the way you feel, everywhere, all over him.

you nod, frantic in your agreement, your eyes rolling back in your head as you bottom out. it’s addictive, the stretch of him, your hands gliding over his abs as you try to find some balance. you rock your hips, revelling in the slow grind, up and down. your clit grazes his pubic bone with every rise and fall and you swallow hard, his body sticky under your fingertips.

“you did so good today, lan, so pretty up on that top step.” you pant, circling your hips. he groans, pulling you down so that you’re chest to chest, your lips centimetres apart, when the moment is stolen.

lando’s phone buzzes, over and over, max verstappen’s face filling the iphone screen. lando looks at the device on the bedside table, cursing under his breath.

“must be wondering where the race winner is.” you giggle, choosing to make light of the situation, rather than dwell on your ruined orgasm.

“he can wait.” lando grunts, fingers bruising your hips when he flips you onto your back, his cock staying buried so deep inside of you that you see stars when you hit the mattress.

your leg is thrown over his shoulder callously, a stoniness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. he’s determined to finish you off, show you just how bad he’s wanted you all day, remind you that you’re in bed with a someone who knows how to win. the angle change is jarring, it takes you a minute to adjust, not that he gives you the courtesy, fucking into you how you both like it as the call rings out through the room.

“baby- lando!” you yelp, your belly tight. the waves of pleasure swell in your core, his merciless antics send you barreling towards another orgasm. you’re teetering over the edge, his thumb flush against your clit, spasming at his manipulation, dangerously clos-

buzz buzz buzz buzz.

buzz buzz buzz buzz.

“for fuck sake!” lando swears, pulling out of you. you whine wantonly at the loss, pouting up at him.

he drags you to the edge of the bed until your legs hang over, flipping you angrily onto your belly. your cheek is pressed into the duvet, your toes barely graze the floor. his ringtone continues to sound out and he hastily grabs his phone. he hits the green button the same time he slides back into your cunt.

“what, max?” he spits, thrusting into you, so deep that you can’t help the screech that burns the back of your throat. it’s obscene, really, the way you gush around him at the knowledge that someone else is listening in, at the fact that lando takes pride in how good he makes you feel.

you try to muffle your cries, really, you do, but lando has other plans. he gathers your hair, winding it around his fingers so that he can pull your face out of the comforter. you sob, loud, the lewd squelch of where you’re joined with him more than audible.

“i’m busy. fuck off.” lando growls throwing the phone down onto the bed, conveniently right next to your head. the call is still in progress, but max is quick to hang up when he hears your shaky breath, poorly concealed squeals.

“you’re insane.” you manage to choke out. he laughs wetly, the sound making you dizzy.

lando shuffles the pair of you up the bed, propping you onto your knees, all the while hammering into you with that athletic stamina that makes your head spin. the pad of his index finger traces your thigh, finding home on your clit and the tears fall harder, blurring your vision. he pulls your back to his chest, beginning a deep grind that renders your speechless.

“you liked that, didn’t you? him hearing how good i make you feel.” lando’s breath fans the shell of your ear. you nod, mumbling something incoherent, too blissfully exhausted.

‘cuz you’re so good to me. so so good to me.

“thought about shoving your panties in your mouth to shut you up, but you ruined them, didn’t you baby?” lando circles your clit harder, tugging at your earlobe “remember? when you weren’t being a good for me? but you are now, aren’t you, honey? you’re my good girl, hm?”

you clamp down around him, heat licking down your spine. you’re clammy with sweat, glazed with champagne, at one with him. lando shudders as you tighten around him, holding you as close as he can get. you writhe against him when you hit your peak, slumping against him as you quiver. pearly whites sink into your flesh, hard enough to to ground you, not enough to hurt you. you love it, him, everything about this. you coax him into his orgasm, his thrusts turn sloppy and he cums, thick and hot.

it takes a solid five minutes before you can move, the pair of you crawling up the bed, stretching like two sun-kissed cats. you’re sweaty, stuck together tangled between white bedding that definitely needs changing.

“that was-“

“better than any race win.” lando sighs, languidly smiling against your hair line where he lays gentle kisses, his entire demeanour changed in a matter of minutes.

“you’re just saying that.” you tease, drumming your fingers over his chest.

“no, ‘m not. i loved every moment of today, best day of my life,” he breathes, dazed. “but i love you more.”

-

max sips his drink, the dial tone sounding through his ears.

“just won a fucking race and he’s not here yet.” oscar laughs. typical lando.

the call goes to voicemail, but max is drunk, persistent, and quite frankly, feeling a little annoying.

“‘m gonna try him again.” max nods his head, tapping against his phone screen impatiently.

“did you consider the fact that he might be… busy?” charles smirks into his drink, slumping against the back of the booth.

it’s too late, the ferrari drivers suggestion falls on deaf ears. max has made the call, again, but this time he gets an answer.

“where the fuck are you?” max asks, but then his face pales.

“what?” oscar tilts his head, watching in confusion as max wrinkles his nose.

the phone goes flying from max’s hands, thudding against the cushioned seats, his jaw hanging agape. once the disbelief subsides, he’s giggling like a child.

“guess he was busy then, hm?” charles raises a knowing eyebrow.

“yeah,” max is red now, cackling. “something like that.”

-

hehe whoops

-

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @welld0nebaku @thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne

[lupinqs]

SANTA BABY ━━ wnba!paige bueckers x reader

𝜗𝜚 ━ summary: during your christmas trip to NYC, you have a surprise waiting for paige back at the hotel.

𝜗𝜚 ━ word count: 4.9K

𝜗𝜚 ━ warnings: sexual content (munch p, scissoring)

𝜗𝜚 ━ links: my masterlist

𝜗𝜚 ━ author’s note: my christmas eve gift to y’all …. it was almost taken away tho because of that usc game ask the gc man i was crashing out

THE CITY is buzzing even at this hour, cold wind cutting through the streets as Paige makes her way back to the hotel. She tugs her coat tighter around herself, her hands jammed into her pockets to ward off the sting of the December chill. New York City is magical this time of year, but it’s also freezing, and she can’t wait to get back to the suite, where it’s warm—and more importantly, where you are.

This trip has been a mix of business and pleasure. She had a couple of sponsorship obligations to knock out and a media appearance scheduled for tomorrow, but mostly, it’s just an excuse to spend a few uninterrupted days with you. Both of your schedules have been so hectic lately—hers with the grind of off-season and the stress of Unrivaled about to start, and yours with work—and carving out this time feels like a luxury. It’s the last weekend before Christmas, and since you’re both gonna be spending the holiday with your families together, this is your time to celebrate just the two of you.

Paige hurries into the hotel, rubbing her hands together as she steps into the elevator. She flexes her fingers, still stiff from gripping a basketball for hours during her workout with Stewie and Sabrina. She promised you that she wouldn’t let it run late, and, as she glances at her phone to see the time, she’s satisfied that she fulfilled it.

Her sneakers hit the polished floor with soft thuds as she unlocks the door to the suite. The space is lavish, the kind of indulgence she spent because one, it’s the holidays, and two, she wanted this weekend to be perfect for the two of you. The warmth of the suite embraces her immediately, the city’s chill feeling miles away here. She shrugs off her coat, tossing it over the couch, and kicks off her sneakers.

“Baby, I’m back!” she calls, her voice echoing faintly in the spacious suite. When she came in, she assumed that you’d be in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket and whatever Netflix show you’ve been binge-watching. But the living room is empty, the TV off.

Her brows furrow as she looks around, scanning for signs of you. “You in the bedroom?” she calls out, though there’s still no answer. Her pulse picks up, not in worry, but in curiosity. She hums, wondering where you’re hiding.

The hallway feels quiet as she moves down it, pushing open the door to the bedroom. The sight that greets her makes her stop dead in her tracks, feet planted in the doorway.

The lights are dim, the warm glow casting a soft, golden hue across the room. A bottle of wine sits on the nightstand, one glass already poured and in your hand. But it’s you that holds her attention, that makes her brain short-circuit entirely.

You’re sprawled out on the bed, leaning back against the pillows with a smirk that could stop traffic. And you’re wearing—Paige feels her throat go dry—this tiny, ridiculously sexy Christmas lingerie set. The red satin clings to you in all the right places, barely covering what it’s meant to, and the white fur trim is so playful, so sinful, she doesn’t know whether to laugh or groan. The ribbon on the front of your bra is tied in a neat little bow, teasingly undone just enough to look like you’d barely bothered. The matching panties sit high on your hips, connected to sheer thigh-high stockings by the tiniest garters she’s ever seen.

She doesn’t even realize she’s standing completely still until you grin at her, your voice playful and sweet as you say, “Hi, baby.”

Paige blinks, her brain struggling to catch up as she stares at you. Her heart is pounding, adrenaline giving way to something much more visceral. The way you’re looking at her, the way the light catches the curve of your body—it’s like she’s seeing you for the first time all over again. She lets out a low, shaky breath, her hand running through her hair as her eyes continue to rove over your figure. Her stomach constricts, her whole body coiled so tight she’s not sure if she wants to drop to her knees or throw herself at you. Maybe both.

“Fuck, ma,” she finally manages, her voice low and husky as she steps forward. Her hands flex instinctively, wanting to touch you, needing to touch you. “You tryna kill me?”

You giggle, the sound light and sweet, but the glint in your eyes is anything but innocent. “No,” you say, tilting your head slightly as you take a slow sip from your wine glass. Your smirk widens, and Paige swears her knees almost buckle.

She exhales sharply, inching closer to the bed. “You look…” Her voice trails off, her gaze roaming over you like she’s trying to memorize every inch of your body. “Jesus, baby, you look insane.”

You’re still grinning as she reaches the edge of the bed, her hands resting on the mattress as she leans down slightly, bringing her face level with yours. Her pulse races, her body buzzing with anticipation as her eyes lock with yours. “You did this for me?” she asks softly, though she already knows the answer.

“Who else?” you ask, grinning, your voice a teasing lilt that makes Paige’s chest tighten. You set your wine glass down on the nightstand, your eyes never leaving hers.

Paige is already leaning forward, her hands sliding to your thighs, the warmth of your skin and the delicate fabric of your lingerie making her head spin. “You’re gon’ be the death of me,” she murmurs, shaking her head a little as her lips brush against yours lightly, hands tightening on your legs. And God, if this is how she goes, she’ll thank you for it.

Her lips finally lock onto yours, slow at first, like she’s savoring the moment. The kiss is soft, tender, but there’s an edge to it—like she’s holding herself back, barely. Her hands tighten on your thighs, sliding higher, the heat of your skin burning through the thin satin, and she swears she feels you shiver beneath her touch.

You kiss her back, your arms looping around her neck to pull her closer, and that’s all the invitation Paige needs. She shifts, climbing onto the bed, her knees sinking into the mattress as she presses herself against you. The warmth of your body sends a rush of heat through her, and she deepens the kiss, her tongue brushing against yours as she loses herself in the taste of you.

“You’re fuckin’ unreal,” she murmurs against your mouth, her voice barely above a whisper but heavy with meaning. Her lips leave yours only to trail down your jaw, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck.

Her hands roam as her mouth works. One slides up to cup the back of your neck, her thumb brushing over your jaw to tilt your head just the way she likes. The other settles firmly on your hip, her grip strong enough to keep you exactly where she wants you, though her fingers twitch like she’s desperate to touch you everywhere at once.

The scent of you—the faint lotion you always wear, mixed with the wine you’ve been drinking—fills her senses, and Paige feels drunk on it, drunk on you. Her lips find the sensitive spot just below your ear, and when she hears the soft, breathy sound you make in response, it sends a jolt of electricity straight through her.

“Damn,” she mutters, her teeth grazing your skin lightly before she soothes the spot with her tongue.

Your hands tug at the hem of her long-sleeve shirt, and she sits back just enough to let you pull it over her head. You toss it somewhere behind her, leaving her in her sports bra. Her abs flex slightly in the cool air, but the way your eyes roam over her makes her feel anything but cold. She watches you, her chest heaving, her pupils blown wide as you reach out to touch her, your hands sliding over her shoulders and down her torso, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

And then she’s diving back in, her kisses lower now, lips finding the delicate line of your collarbone, pressing open-mouthed kisses there like she’s starving for you—which, she is. Her tongue darts out to taste your skin, her teeth scraping against you enough to leave you shivering. She feels your fingers tangle in her hair, undoing her ponytail as you pull her closer. Her breath quickens slightly, chest heaving with just how much she wants you.

Her fingers find the ribbon on your bra, tugging at it gently as her lips brush over the swell of your cleavage. “This,” she mutters, her voice muffled against your skin, “is fucking killin’ me.” She pulls back just enough to look at you, her thumb brushing over the satin. “You tied it so pretty for me, huh? Knowing I’d lose my damn mind?”

You laugh softly, breathily, fingers tangling further in her hair. “Maybe.”

“Slut,” Paige mutters, grinning as she tugs the bow loose with one sharp pull, letting the fabric fall open, your perky tits popping out of it. Her breath catches as she sees you fully now, blue eyes darkening with something heavy, something primal.

“Goddamn, mama,” she breathes, her hands sliding along your sides, thumbs brushing over your ribs. She leans down again, her lips brushing against the curve of your breast. “You’re so beautiful, so sexy, so perfect, baby. It ain’t even fair.”

And then her mouth closes around your nipple, her tongue swirling over the sensitive skin as she sucks gently, and the sound you make in response sends a jolt straight through her. She groans softly, her free hand sliding up to cup your other breast. She alternates between kisses and soft bites, her lips tugging gently at your nipple before soothing the spot with her tongue. Her breath is hot against your skin, and she presses closer, hips grinding against yours just a little as her mouth moves.

“Such perfect tits,” she murmurs against your cleavage, her teeth grazing you again as she switches to your other breast.

She licks a slow, careful path across your skin, savoring every inch of you as she begins to lower once more. Her mouth leaves a wet trail down your stomach, her tongue occasionally flicking out to taste the faint salt on your skin. Her hands slide down from your chest, settling on your waist. She grips the skin hard, pinching slightly. Her lips brush over the curve of your belly, then down to the soft plane just above your hips, like she’s mapping every part of you with her tongue.

She pauses for a moment, just long enough to lift her head and admire the way the red lace hugs your skin. The fabric is delicate, so inviting, it’s like it was made to drive her insane. The sheer material leaves almost nothing to her imagination, and the sight of it—of you and your perfect pussy—sends a rush of wetness to her own core.

She just shakes her head a little, as if in disbelief, before lowering again, her lips grazing the edge of the lace as her fingers grip your hips tighter. She can feel the heat radiating from you, the way your body tenses slightly beneath her, the way you say her name, and it makes her head spin.

Her tongue flicks out, tracing the edge of the fabric, teasing. She presses a kiss just below your navel, then another, breath warm. “You got any idea what you’re doin’ to me, baby?” she asks slowly.

You don’t even get the opportunity to answer before her teeth catch the edge of your panties lightly, tugging just enough to make you gasp. And then she lets it snap back into place with a soft, playful grin. She glances up at you, eyes dark and blazing, blonde hair falling into her face as she leans closer again. The way you look back at her—pupils wide, lips parted, cheeks flushed—spurs her on.

Her lips hover just above the lace, and she kisses you there, slow and careful, her mouth pressing over the thin barrier like she can’t stand not to be closer. “So pretty,” she murmurs against you, her fingers brushing over the lace now, testing the material as her tongue flicks out once more, tasting you even through the fabric.

Her big hands slide from your waist to your thighs, spreading them just enough to give her room to work. Her teeth catch the edge of the waistband, tugging gently, and she groans low in her throat as the fabric gives way slightly under her pull.

“Fuck,” Paige mutters, and it’s muffled as she grips the lace between her teeth. She pauses just long enough for you to whimper, “Paige,” before she tugs again, this time pulling the panties down your hips with deliberate slowness.

She moves inch by inch, her teeth grading the lace lower, and she’s completely transfixed. The garters make her work for it, the straps pulling taut against the tension, but she doesn’t mind—if anything, it drives her wilder. Her lips slide along your skin as she works, kissing the sensitive spots where the panties leave a faint imprint.

As she reaches your thighs, Paige shifts, letting the fabric slide past her lips and catching it with her fingers instead. She tugs it the rest of the way down with her teeth again, dragging it along the curve of your legs, her mouth brushing your inner thighs as she goes.

When the panties finally slip off completely, Paige lets them drop from her teeth to the floor, her breath shallow as she grips your thighs, holding them apart. Her eyes rake over every inch of you—the way your face has gone bright pink in a flush, the way your tits peek from the opened lingerie top, the way your cunt is absolutely glistening for her.

She licks her lips slowly, the corner of her mouth curving into a smirk as her gaze flicks back up to your face. “Shit, mama,” she says lowly. “Look at you. Fuckin’ dripping for me.”

Paige doesn’t waste any more time. She slides down on her elbows, lowering herself between your legs, her mouth attaching to your clit with an intensity that makes you cry out. She sucks and licks with fervor, her tongue working you over with a skill that leaves both of your lungs aching, Paige’s face buried so deep in your folds she has to fight for air. The sensation is overwhelming, a delicious mix of pleasure and desperation that has you writhing beneath her, hips bucking.

“Babe… mmm, shit,” you whimper, voice trembling as you reach down to grasp at the sheets, knuckles white with the effort to hold on. You can barely keep your eyes open, pleasure so intense it’s nearly blinding. “Please, fuck, don’t stop.”

Paige has no intentions of stopping. She moans softly against your pussy, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. Her hands grip your thighs, holding you in place firmly as she devours you like a woman starved. Her tongue moves expertly, flicking and swirling across your clit before laying it flat, shaking her head from side to side messily, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck, ma, you taste so good,” Paige groans, pulling away just long enough to let a glob of her spit land on your cunt. She leans back in, lapping it up, eyes rolling into the back of her head. “Could eat you out all night, baby…”

Your back arches off the bed at Paige’s words, causing the lingerie top to slide down your shoulders a little more. Your hips buck involuntarily as you chase the pleasure Paige gives you, one of your hands coming up to knead your own tit, mouth dropping open at the way Paige’s tongue slides along your wetness effortlessly. You’re desperate, every nerve ending in your body tingling with need. “Paige, baby, ‘M so close,” you choke out.

Paige only intensifies her efforts, her tongue flicking against your clit faster, her mouth working you over with an urgency that has you teetering on the edge. She’s relentless, giving you exactly what you need, pushing you closer and closer until you’re trembling, your thighs quivering around her head.

Just when you think you can’t take anymore, Paige pulls back slightly, her mouth leaving your clit. You let out a desperate whine at the loss, body screaming for more, but Paige is already moving. She slides two fingers inside you without warning, thrusting them in deep, hard, and fast. The sudden intrusion makes you gasp, hands flying to Paige’s shoulders as you cling to her, body trembling with the force of Paige’s thrusts.

“Mmm, mama,” the blonde breathes out lowly as she pumps her fingers into your cunt with a brutal pace, the slick sound of her digits moving in and out echoing in the otherwise quiet hotel room. “So fucking tight, so wet for me. Shit, baby.”

She glances up, gaze on you as your head falls back against the pillows, your eyes squeezing shut as you let out a strangled moan, hips moving to meet Paige’s thrusts. She feels a rush of wetness flood her own boxers and picks up the pace even more, the pleasure becoming overwhelming for you, a white-hot fire that consumes you from the inside you. “Paige, oh my God… holy shit…”

Paige leans in close, biting lightly at your inner thigh as she whispers, “Think you can take three, baby?”

She watches as your eyes fly open at the question, brows furrowing as you nod frantically. “Yes. Yeah, do it,” you force out breathlessly. “Please, P.”

Paige smirks at your reaction, but doesn’t need to be told twice. She pulls her fingers out briefly, adding a third finger before thrusting back inside, her movements deliberate and rough, stretching you out. Your hips buck up to meet Paige hand, chasing the pleasure. Paige scissors her fingers inside you, making you choke a little on your own whimper, nails digging into her skin, gripping the strap of her sports bra.

“Such a—God, you’re such a fuckin’ slut,” Paige groans, eyes locked onto your face, watching every single expression of pleasure that crosses your features. “Wearing that lingerie, knowing I’d lose my goddamn mind. Shit.”

Your entire body is one fire, senses overwhelmed by the combination of the relentless pace of Paige’s thrusts and the dirtiness that coats her words. You can feel every inch of Paige’s fingers inside you, can feel the way they stretch you, the way they hit that perfect spongy spot deep inside that makes you see stars. “Baby, you’re gonna make me cum. God, I’m—” You cut yourself off with a loud moan.

Paige leans forward, her mouth finding your clit again, tongue swirling slick circles over the sensitive nub as she continues to thrust her long fingers in and out, faster and harder, pushing you to the brink. “Shit, ma, do it,” she urges roughly, humming against you as she laps at your pussy. “Cum for me. Cum all fucking over me, mama.”

That’s all you need to hear. With a strangled cry, your entire body tenses, back arching off the bed as you come hard, walls clenching around Paige’s fingers, gushing against her face. The pleasure is blinding, overwhelming, and you can’t do anything but ride it out, body trembling uncontrollably as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

Paige keeps thrusting her fingers, lapping at your wetness lazily, riding out your orgasm with you. She prolongs the pleasure until you’re nothing but a quivering, panting mess beneath her. When your body finally goes limp, Paige slowly withdraws her fingers, leaning down to press a kiss to your trembling thighs.

And then she starts crawling back up your body, her lips trailing over the lingering marks she’d left along her descent. Your eyes meet, a shared intensity overtaking the laziness you were just feeling, Paige’s lips finding you’re once more in a searing, desperate kiss. It’s messy and heated, tongues tangling, hands grasping and pulling at each other. You can taste yourself on Paige’s lips and it only makes you kiss her harder.

You let Paige flip your positions with her strength, your thighs now straddling Paige’s waist. She groans a little against your mouth as her hands find your bare ass, fingers digging into the skin and kneading it, your bodies pressing together.

“Ma,” Paige breathes out when you pull away slightly, sliding her sports bra up and over her head. Her hands reach down for her sweatpants and you help her yank them—and her boxers beneath—down in one swift motion. Paige’s hips lift off the bed, and the two of you finally rid of the barrier. You toss the clothing aside without a second thought.

Paige’s lips curl into a smirk as her eyes lock with yours again, pulling you closer with her hands on your ass, bodies flush against each other. “C’mon,” she murmurs thickly.

Your breath hitches at the feel of Paige’s hands on your hips, guiding you to align your cunts together. The sensation is sinful, and you can’t suppress the moan that escapes your lips as you feel the heat and slickness of Paige’s wetness against your own.

“That’s it, mama,” the blonde encourages, sending a shiver down your spine. “Ride me, grind on me. Lemme feel you.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You start moving your hips in slow, careful circles, your slick pussy sliding against Paige’s with every movement. The sensation is overwhelming, and your head falls back as you let yourself get lost in the pleasure, hands gripping Paige’s shoulders for support.

Paige’s eyes are glued to you, tracking every move, every expression. She’s mesmerized by the way your face contorts with pleasure, your mouth falling open slightly as your hips move with increasing urgency. Paige’s hands tighten on your hips, helping to guide your movements, pushing you down harder against her own aching cunt.

“Shit,” Paige groans, blue eyes flitting between your flushed face, the way your tits bounce slightly with every thrust of your hips, and where your pussy grinds against hers. “You look so fuckin’ hot riding me like this.”

You whimper at Paige’s words, pace quickening as the heat between you builds to an almost unbearable level. The friction of your clits rubbing together is enough to make you lose control, unable to hold back the desperate sounds that escape your lips.

“You like that, baby?” Paige rasps, voice dripping with lust as she watches you lose yourself in the pleasure. “You like grinding that pretty pussy against me, yeah?”

Your only response is a choked moan, body trembling as you lean forward, hands sliding up to grip the headboard for support. The new angle allows you to press down even harder against Paige, and it sends shockwaves through both of your bodies.

Paige’s eyes roll back in her head at the increased pressure, her own hips bucking up to meet the roll of yours. She’s completely entranced by the sight of you riding her, chest heaving as she helps you, gripping your ass and pulling you quicker against her.

“Feels so fucking good,” she groans roughly.

You whimper at her words, body moving faster, more desperate, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter. You’re both so close, bodies trembling with the effort to keep going, to chase the high that you both desperately need.

“Paige,” you gasp, breathless and needy. “I’m almost there.”

Paige’s grip on your ass tightens, fingers digging into your flesh as she urges you on. “That’s it,” she encourages, your folds so slick against hers. “Cum for me again. Need it right fuckin’ now.”

You cry out, your entire body tensing as you reach your peak, hips grinding down hard against Paige as you finish with a shuddering moan. The pleasure washes over you in waves, leaving you trembling and breathless as you ride out your orgasm.

Paige isn’t far behind, the sight of you coming undone above her enough to push her over the edge. Her own orgasm hits her hard, her hips jerking up as she lets out a low, guttural moan, her fingers digging into your ass and hips as she rides it out.

You collapse onto her, your body melting into hers, every muscle in you soft and spent. Her skin is warm beneath yours, slick with the same thin sheen of sweat that glistens on your back. Paige’s chest rises and falls erratically under your cheek, her breath heavy and labored, matching your own. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat pounds faintly against your ear, grounding you.

Her arms come around you almost instinctively, wrapping you in a hold that’s firm yet gentle, one hand splayed across your lower back, the other lazily circling between your shoulder blades. Her fingers drag lightly over your skin, soothing and possessive at once, as though she’s trying to memorize every inch of you. She shifts slightly beneath you, her body fitting against yours with an intimacy that feels effortless, as though this is where you’re meant to be.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The room is quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside and the soft, uneven breaths you’re both still trying to catch. Paige’s head tilts back against the pillows, her eyes fluttering shut as she lets the tension drain from her body, your weight on top of her a comfort she never realized she needed so much.

And then, with a low, raspy chuckle that vibrates through her chest, Paige breaks the silence. “Damn.”

The single word, said with so much raw awe and disbelief, makes you laugh. The sound is quiet, breathy, but it shakes through you, your shoulders trembling lightly against her. Paige feels the warmth of your laugh against her neck, and a lazy smile spreads across her face, her lips curving up in a way that makes her look soft, completely undone.

Her hand moves from your back, trailing slowly upward, the tips of her fingers grazing your spine before they find your jaw. She cradles it gently, guiding your face upward so your eyes meet hers. There’s something so special in the way she looks at you—like you’re the only thing that exists in her world right now. Her thumb brushes over your cheek, and then she’s leaning in, her lips finding yours in a kiss that’s slow and lingering, deep and unhurried.

She hums softly into it, the sound vibrating against your mouth, and when she pulls back just enough to speak, her voice is low and rough. “Did so perfect for me,” she murmurs, her eyes scanning your face as if committing it to memory.

Your lips curve into a small, sleepy smile, and you let your head rest against her shoulder once more. “I love you,” you whisper, your voice soft but sure.

Paige’s arms tighten around you in response, her fingers brushing lightly over the curve of your shoulder. She doesn’t say it back immediately, but the way she holds you—the way her lips press a gentle kiss to your temple—says it louder than words ever could.

The two of you stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the weight of the moment settling around you like a warm, comforting blanket. Paige’s breathing steadies, her chest rising and falling beneath you in a rhythm that feels calming, almost hypnotic. When she finally moves, it’s only to reach for the nightstand, her fingers curling around the bottle of wine that’s been sitting there, untouched until now.

She pours herself a glass first, then grabs yours, her hand steady as she offers it. “Here,” she says softly, her voice still husky.

You take the glass from her with a small smile, your fingers brushing hers, and Paige feels that familiar spark, that electric current that always seems to buzz between you. She watches you as you take a sip, the way your lips curl around the rim of the glass, the way your eyes meet hers over the edge of it.

After a few minutes, Paige sets her empty glass aside and leans over the edge of the bed, her hand brushing against the discarded lingerie top. She picks it up, holding it up in the dim light, letting it dangle from her fingers as she turns back to you with a lazy grin. “This,” she says, her tone playful but still thick with awe, “was crazy.”

You smile at her, wide and teasing, your head tilting slightly as you reply, “You loved it.”

Paige laughs softly, shaking her head as she leans down to kiss you again, her lips lingering against yours as she murmurs, “Course I did.” Her voice is warm, sincere, and when she pulls back, the grin on her face is so full of love it makes your chest tighten.

The two of you settle back into the bed, the wine forgotten on the nightstand as Paige tucks you against her side, her arm draped over your waist. The city hums softly in the background, but all Paige can hear is the quiet sound of your breathing, the steady rhythm of your heart against hers. And in this moment, with you curled against her, Paige thinks there’s nowhere else in the world she’d rather be.

[lazysoulwriter]

only hers. - pedro pascal.

requested! thank you. ♡ content: Pedro Pascal x established relationship!reader, long-distance feels, Cannes setting, soft gift from a fan, FaceTime call, pure love, emotional reunion energy, a man so in love it hurts

---

You hadn’t seen each other in weeks.

One of those cruel work stretches — the kind you used to fantasize about avoiding when you first moved in together. You'd promised: no matter what, we’ll make time. But no one tells you how busy life gets when both your dreams are coming true.

Time zones stopped syncing. Schedules clashed. FaceTime calls were short, sleepy, often interrupted. Texts became quick check-ins that ended with the same bittersweet words: “I miss you more than I can say.”

But Cannes was louder than distance.

Pedro was there for his film’s premiere, wrapped in satin lapels and that signature warmth he carried no matter how polished the setting. The night glowed — flashbulbs, velvet ropes, long stairs, champagne glasses held just-so. He smiled, posed, gave the press what they wanted.

But something was missing. Or rather — someone.

He felt it in the back of his throat every time someone asked him, “Who are you here with?” and he had to say, “Just me tonight.” He felt it in the hotel mirror, adjusting his tie alone. He felt it most when he was standing still — because that’s when he always wanted your hand in his.

And then, as he was signing posters outside the Palais, it happened.

A fan — sweet-faced, with a nervous smile — handed him a small velvet pouch along with a Polaroid to sign. “This is for you,” she said, voice soft. “It has her name. Because… I don’t know, you two make love look possible.”

Pedro blinked, caught off-guard. “What?”

She just smiled. “It’s nothing big. Just something nice.”

Inside was a delicate bracelet — a slim cord in black, with a tiny golden charm in the middle. Your name. Engraved in careful cursive. Not flashy. Not loud. Just you.

He swallowed, already smiling before he even slipped it on.

He couldn’t stop looking at it.

The rest of the night blurred past in a daze of interviews and red carpet questions, but his thumb kept brushing the charm like a nervous habit. He found comfort in it. In you — even this small piece of you.

His chest ached, but in a good way. In a real way.

He called you that night.

It was past midnight in France, and even later where you were. But you answered on the second ring, blurry-eyed in your robe, hair twisted into a messy bun, smile blooming the moment you saw his face on the screen.

“Hi, amor,” you murmured.

“Hey.” He shifted the camera slightly and held up his wrist. “Look what I got.”

You squinted, leaned in — then gasped. “Wait… is that—? Is that my name?”

He turned the charm toward the light so you could see it clearer. “A fan gave it to me. Said we give people hope.”

You blinked at the screen, caught between laughter and tears. “We do, huh?”

“You do,” he said, voice soft. “I just orbit around you.”

“Pedro…” you whispered, pressing your fingers to your lips, then to the screen.

He exhaled, like he’d been holding it in all day. “I miss you so much it’s ridiculous.”

“I know. Me too.” Your voice cracked just a little.

“I wanted you to see this before I fell asleep.” His voice was getting slower, lower — the kind of softness that only came out when he was tired and full of love. “I’ve been holding it all night. Like I can hold you through it.”

You were quiet for a beat, studying him. “You look tired.”

He nodded. “I just want you here.”

“I will be. Soon.”

He smiled faintly. “I know. But until then…”

He lifted his wrist again, eyes on the charm — your name — glowing in the dim hotel light.

“…I’ll wear you.”

You felt your heart squeeze.

And even from a thousand miles away, you knew — You’d never been loved quite like this.

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

---

taglist: @sarahhxx03 @lloydmustache @lolareadsimagines @greenwitchfromthewoods @silksepia @pascalswiftie @itstokyo-cos @mani-pedro @llsister @authorbriannarae13 @introvrtedjellyfish @aj0elap0l0gist @spencercmlover @cixrosie @cherrqbaby @cup-half-full-of-anxiety @kellyxo1 @freakbobcult @sunlightpleasure @barnes70stark @mooniscrying @ohnaurshayla @croissantbakerylws @nellispunk @kasienka @taylorswiftsrep-blog @emerencedaily @byzyz @noovaarq @kristend512

[ofbatsandballads]

as the heavens set fire

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: smut MDNI, virgin!Jason and virgin!reader, grinding, thigh riding, non-penetrative fingering, implications of Jason being demisexual.

a/n: I wrote this ages ago and just now found it in my drafts. I love the idea that in between being brought back from the dead and his revenge plot and dealing with the trauma of both that Jay never had the time to find his hopeless romantic love for the ages. I also hc him as demisexual, so both of these things combined make him a virgin in my head. Also inspired by @sanguineterrain and @sunnie-angel and their magnificent writings of virgin!jason. This is directly related to my other two fics, and it’s all quickly becoming a little universe that I’m affectionately labeling as “Jason gets the girl”. so yes, please enjoy some very soft, sweet smut of two blushing virgins!

divider credit: saradika

Jason Todd has never felt desire before. Not really. Sure, he had his fair share of kisses and frenzied touches when he first came back to Gotham, but it had never gone farther than that. Not with Rose, not with Artemis. Any time it started to go further, a harsh flinch and the recoil of his body would cut off any hope of more. And before? In his first life? He was a child, and then his teenage years were absolutely consumed with Robin. So, yeah, Jason was a little inexperienced. A virgin, if you wanted to get definitive about things. At first he thought maybe he couldn’t feel that way at all. The idea of letting someone he doesn’t trust touch him like that is unfathomable. And the idea of trusting someone enough to allow them access to his body isn’t even a thought in his mind. So all of his pleasure comes from harsh, slick strokes just to get the job done and the vague notions of the classic romance novels he loves so much.

Until now. Until you. It’s been two months since he came to you bruised and beaten worse than he’d ever been. Two months since you had tended to him, bathed him, clothed him, told him you loved him. Two months since he’d finally steeled his nerve and kissed you as both thanks and confession. You’ve been delicately together ever since. He’s dropped by your apartment every night, and he’s kissed you on more of those nights than he hasn’t. He’s felt an unfamiliar warmth stir in his belly on most of those occasions but he’s kept it in check. Well, he’s kept it in check until he gets home and throws himself into the shower, fist tight around his cock as he thinks of your sweet face smiling at him, your pretty mouth telling him you love him. But he’s got impeccable self control around you. Or he thought he did.

Tonight he dropped in injured for the first time in a while. One of Riddler’s goons had smashed a bottle against his forehead, the shattered glass leaving him with a cut and a blossoming headache. Jason is starting to regret his style change from helmet to domino mask and muzzle. His first instinct was to come to you. He figured it would be the same old song and dance you two had done for over a year now, except maybe with some kisses included. It fails to be the same song and dance the second he sees you in the tiny satin pajama shorts and cropped spaghetti strap pajama top. The set is a deep wine red color that looks so pretty against your skin. His head starts to feel a little fuzzy, but he thinks maybe that’s from the hit. He lets himself in through your window, loud and obvious so as not to startle you.

And, oh, you’re so kind to him. Always so kind to him. You guide him to your sofa and push him down onto the soft cushions (and his mind goes fuzzier). You kneel next to him, leaning slightly into his body while trying to reach the jagged cut on his head. But all Jason can see is red, red, red against your plush exposed skin. A groan of frustration pulls him from his trance.

“I can’t reach you like this, Jay,” you mutter, shaking your head.

“Can I sit on your lap?” you ask, and your face has so much concern on it.

Jason ceases to think. Maybe the hit has concussed him, made him stupid. He doesn’t even think he heard you right. But as you go to apologize for suggesting it, for pushing him into uncomfortable territory, he knows he did hear you correctly. And somehow your concern over his boundaries just makes his body burn hotter. He’d laid out ground rules when you two started this. He wasn’t familiar with physical contact without the intention to cause harm, so he needed time to adjust. And you’ve so diligently allowed him that time. You always ask if it’s okay to hold his hand, to rest against him, to kiss him. Even now you’re asking if he’s okay with you getting closer. He can’t bring himself to tell you just how much closer he wants you. So he simply raises his hand to cut off your apologies and nods.

The warm weight of you on his lap is heavenly. He’s keyed up, acutely aware of your body resting atop his. He tries to reign in his thoughts. The sensitivity of his body, however, can’t be controlled. You lean forward to apply the dermabond to his cut and he has to grip the sofa cushions as he feels your body press flush against his. He hopes you think it’s from the pain. You let out a soft sigh as you soothingly stroke his hair while the surgical glue cures.

“I’m so sorry, Jason. You’re doing so well, angel,” you coo at him.

Jason forces a harsh exhale through his nose. You’re killing him. He’s half hard in his pants now and the prospect of hiding his desire behind pain is dwindling by the second. He’s taking controlled breaths, willing himself to just get through this so he can go home and take care of his growing problem. But then a series of things all happen at once: you shift in his lap as you lean back to grab bandages, your eyes go wide as you feel him against you, and Jason whimpers at the feeling of you accidentally grinding on him.

His seafoam eyes shoot open, face red as his muzzle.

“S-sorry, ‘m sorry. You’re just really warm and so nice to me and I didn’t mean to–” Jason stutters, tripping over his own tongue.

He’s embarrassed. Humiliated even. One, he got hard when you were just trying to fix his head wound. Two, he’s been reduced to a bumbling fucking idiot over it. He’s about to pick you up off of him and go before he has to see the disgust on your face. But then he feels the press of your hands on his chest pushing him back into your sofa. He could easily stop you, but you’re looking at him in a way you never have before and Jason feels himself crumbling like a house of cards.

“Don’t apologize. You never have to apologize for wanting anything, not with me,” you tell him, hands back in his hair.

“How do you want to go about this?” you ask him gently.

Jason should say he wants to stop. Should tell you to get off him so he can cool down and you can pass the remainder of your time together peacefully. Maybe he should even tell you he wants to leave, that he’ll see you tomorrow. But your hands are playing with his hair so softly and your body is so warm and you’re looking at him like he’s something worth looking at.

“Kiss me,” he begs. “Please.”

So you do. You slot your soft lips against his and kiss him with everything you’re worth. Jason moans into it, the sound falling from his mouth to yours. He wraps both of his strong arms around you, pulling you tight against his body. He wrestles all of his self control to not rut up into you when doing so drags your hips against his. He’s licking at your plush bottom lip before he can stop himself and he groans when you immediately open your mouth for him. The slick slide of your tongues clashing makes you sigh against him. Your fingers tighten in his hair and your hips grind down of their own accord, eliciting whines from both of you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Jay,” you gasp as you pull back from him.

“No. You got nothin’ to be sorry for. It’s fine. It’s good,” he reassures you.

Just in case you don’t believe him, he brings his hands to your hips and squeezes as he finds the confidence to rock up into you. You moan as your eyes flutter shut and Jason swears this may be the closest to heaven he’s ever gotten.

“I’ve never–” you choke on your own gasp as he rocks his hips at a steady pace against you. “Never done anything like this before.”

“Me either,” Jason pants through strained inhales.

“I want this. I want you. Can we…can we keep doing this?” you ask against his mouth as you start to follow his rhythm.

Any worries or doubts that Jason had about your willingness in this fly out the window. He’s rambling mindlessly in response. Yes, yes, we can keep doing this, that sounds perfect, please don’t stop. His grip is hard on your hips, bunching the waistband of your shorts and pulling them tighter against you. The moan you let out fucking levels him. He never thought it could be this good. It seems to happen all too soon, that white hot coil curling in his belly. He’s just so sensitive and you feel so good grinding on his covered cock. You’re so kind to him and he loves you, he loves you, he loves you. He babbles it like a broken record as he cums harder than he ever has in his life, soaking his boxers and leaving his tactical pants damp.

He’s whimpering from overstimulation at the hot, wet drag of fabric against his sensitive tip as your hips slow to a stop. He can feel tears of relief and humiliation pooling in the corners of his eyes. He came fast. Embarrassingly fast from such little stimulation. And he may be a virgin but he damn well knows women’s anatomy, so he knows you haven’t gotten off yet. His face is buried in the crook of your neck and you can feel the hot tears that fall from his pretty seafoam eyes.

“Oh, Jason, you did so well, baby. I’m so proud of you,” you breathe out.

Jason lets out a choked noise. You’re proud of him. Proud of him for cumming in his pants like a horny teenager. But there’s such sincerity to your voice that even his self loathing can’t overpower it. He feels your praise in his chest, warm and bright like a healing light. He wants to make you proud. It’s a feeling he hasn’t felt in so long–the desire for someone else to be happy because of him, proud because of him. It’s what gives him the nerve to manhandle you onto one of his muscular thighs. He starts guiding your hips back and forth, smiles when your head tips back and you grip his shoulders.

“Jay, ah, angel, we can stop,” you protest weakly.

He shakes his head fiercely. There’s a determined glint in his green eyes that leaves no room for argument.

“Keep goin’. I want you—need you to feel good too,” he insists.

You nod your head and let your body fall against his. He guides your hips over his thigh again and again and again. Each pass rewards him with little mewls and sighs that Jason thinks he could get addicted to. Your hands are gripping his biceps hard, your face buried in the crook of his neck. He notices you getting antsy, whinier than before and a lightbulb clicks on above his head.

“Wanna take these off?” he asks you, tugging at the waistband of your pretty red shorts.

You mutter a weak uh huh and Jason’s standing you up to drag the slippery satin down your legs. He feels his cock twitch when he sees your black panties. They sit high just above your hip bones and the thin mesh leaves very little to the imagination. He can’t take his eyes off you as he pulls you back down on his thigh. He angles your hips forward and the high pitched moan that spills from your mouth assures him that he’s positioned you just right to grind your clit against him.

“There we go. Just like that, doll,” Jason says as you start to rock your hips at your own pace.

“Oh God, Jason,” you keen, the pet name going straight to your cunt.

Jason catalogs the knowledge of just how much you like him calling you doll. If his brain weren’t so hazy and fucked out, he might be embarrassed by just how much he likes calling you doll. But he can’t be bothered to care, not when you look so pretty riding his thigh.

“More. I want more, angel,” you whine, grabbing at his hand and slowly guiding it up your thigh.

You don’t push him further than the waistband of your panties. Even in your own desperate pursuit of pleasure, you’re still worried about his boundaries. Jason’s never wanted anything in his life as much as he wants to make you cum for him. He dips his hand under the black mesh, fingers brushing against soft hair before landing home on your cunt.

And, fuck, you’re so wet it makes him dizzy. The idea that he’s caused this, that all of this is for him? It doesn’t compute in his brain. It goes against everything he’s ever thought about himself. But the proof is slick and warm on his fingertips. He can be a source of pleasure, of desire, of something good. So he drags his fingers up and down your slit, reveling in the high pitched keens you let out. When he starts to draw circles around your clit, he’s rewarded with you calling his name in the prettiest whimper he could possibly imagine.

“‘S this good? Tell me what you need,” he rasps out, looking for your reassurance, your approval.

You frantically nod your head, quiet whines slipping from your mouth.

“Mmmf, it’s so good, Jay. Please don’t stop,” you moan.

Jason, ever the quick learner, does just as you ask. He keeps rubbing your clit with the exact pace and direction that has you crying out above him. Every now and then he’ll dip his fingers down to collect more of the slick that drips from you, bring it back up to your aching clit and shudder at the noises you make from the stimulation. He’s taking in your body language, studying you like you’re the finest piece of art he’s ever laid his eyes on. Your hips start to jerk erratically under his free hand and your moans turn to breathy whimpers, and he knows before you even tell him.

“Jason–ah–s’too much. I can’t I can’t I can’t,” you babble.

“Don’t fight it, sweetheart. Just let go f’me. I’m right here with you,” he encourages you gently.

And maybe it’s how sweet he’s being, or maybe it’s the way his free hand starts comfortingly stroking along your spine, or most likely it’s the unrelenting swirls he’s making on your swollen clit, but you’re tumbling over the edge before you even realize what’s happening. It’s burning, white hot and alive. It’s new and it’s consuming and it’s all Jason. You don’t think you’ll be able to live without him after this. You know you won’t want to.

You’re both breathing heavily as you come down, your body limp against his. All that surrounds you is each other. Touch, scent, sight–only the two of you exist in the warmth of the afterglow.

“I love you,” you whisper, face buried in his neck.

He holds you tight, nuzzles into your mussed up hair.

“I love you too.”

Jason realizes that’s all that was missing. Love. That love and want are inextricably tied up for him, that the latter can’t exist without the former. Because he loves you, and for the first time ever, he knows what that aching hunger feels like, knows what it’s like to have fire lick across his veins. And he’s so grateful to you, so grateful for yet another gift you’ve given him. Kindness, tenderness, love, desire. He’d known none of it before you dragged him through your window. And maybe he doesn’t really believe in God anymore, but he’s positive that you’re nothing short of a miracle he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to deserve.

[heavensenteden]

✎ caught you! - part 2 | nsfw fic 🔞

☆彡

GUYS… as promised i have part two of sol x reader who loves teasing him eheheh.

(only took me a month.. 😔✊🏼 sorry guys)

anyways! i’ll be posting more consistently soon now that my midterms are finished up for now, for all you LaDS players… i’m cooking up something devious and nasty. <3

also as promised! people who requested tags are tagged below !! mwah!

i’ll let you guys read now, much love!!

link to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63640159?view_adult=true

word count: 4814

pls minors dni and dnr ⭐️

cw: blackmail, emotional manipulation, sub!sol, fingering, missionary, squirting

💚˖ ִֶָ 𓂃⭒

The night was still, the soft hum of the city outside barely breaking the silence as you sat on your bed, waiting. The lights in your apartment were dimmed low, just enough to set the mood.

You had left the window unlocked, just as you’d promised Sol earlier that day, carefully undoing the flimsy pink ribbon and setting it aside, knowing he wouldn’t need it. Ribbon tied or not, you decided to make his life easier by undoing it yourself, that way he would be able to crawl through your window at your command.

The thought of him coming to you, desperate to be near you again, made a shiver race down your spine. Goosebumps prickled along your skin as you sat on the edge of the bed, your eyes flicking to the digital clock. 12:03 a.m. Sol was three minutes late.

It didn’t matter. This time, everything would be on your terms, when you were conscious and not drugged asleep. He had made his mistake by avoiding you, not being upfront about his feelings. And now, you would make him pay for it. Punish him. But not in the way he was most likely expecting. No, this time, it would be different. This time, you wanted to leave him begging for more of you, for all of you.

A smile curled on your lips at the thought of completely ruining your sweet Solivan, your stalker– for the better part of four months. Your fingers traced lazily over the soft satin fabric of your pajamas, a simple combination of a button up shirt and shorts, as you glanced toward the window, hearing the shuffle of slow footsteps approaching. Your heart skipped a beat. It was him. Right?

You stood, nice and slowly, watching the window carefully. When the window slid open, Sol slipped into your room, smoothly from all the practice before, and his eyes locked onto yours instantly.

He stood there, frozen for a moment, his body stiff with eyes gazing across your body, up and down, he fidgeted with his hands, scratching the back of his neck. His breath was shallow, quick. He knew exactly what was waiting for him.

“You’re late,” you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of mock disappointment. You took a slow step forward, your feet making no sound against the hardwood as your hands moved to rest on his chest, your finger tracing along his shirt.

Sol swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing under your gaze. He glanced away, his eyes falling to the ground, unable to meet yours. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“Shh…” You cut him off, your finger gently tracing his chin and lifting his face until his eyes met yours. The vulnerability in his gaze made you smile, a wicked smirk curling at the corners of your lips. “It’s okay, sweet boy. I’m not angry,” you cooed softly, your voice dripping with teasing affection.

You took a step back, settling back onto the edge of the bed, your arms crossing in front of you, observing the way Sol’s eyes followed your every movement like a predator tracking its prey. His body was tense, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, fighting the overwhelming urge to reach for you.

“You’ve been naughty Sol,” you whispered, the words barely audible, but they lingered between you two. “Lurking in the back of our class, watching me carefully, but never being able to tell me how you really feel…” You trailed off, your voice a low hum, enjoying the sound of his shaky, uneven breaths.

Without waiting for him to respond, you lifted a finger, beckoning him forward. He moved immediately, shuffling toward the bed, towering over you.

“Sit,” you commanded, your voice unwavering, and Sol’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of red as he obediently lowered himself to his knees on the hard floor in front of you, prostrated with his hands on his knees, not questioning your command.

This was truly a sight to behold. Your little stalker, sitting so obediently on the floor, his eyes filled with need, ready to obey your every whim. You let out a soft breath of satisfaction.

“Such a good boy…” you purred, your hand reaching out to gently hold his chin, tilting his head side to side, examining him closely. Your eyes narrowed when you noticed a fresh bruise on the side of his face, the angry red mark contrasting very noticeably with his pale skin.

“What’s this?” you asked, your voice still sweet and soft.

Sol’s eyes flickered to the side, his breath hitching as he avoided meeting your gaze. You didn’t push him, letting the silence stretch for a moment as he collected his thoughts. You kept your hand gently on his chin, guiding his face back up to meet yours, your gaze softening when you saw the discomfort in his eyes.

“I… I got into a fight,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper, tinged with frustration. “They just don’t stop, always picking on me.”

Your heart tightened at his words, protectiveness towards him overtaking you. You reached up, brushing your fingers softly across his cheek, your touch just barely touching his skin. .

“My sweet boy,” you murmured, your voice low and filled with care. “Getting into fights, huh? It’s okay.” You pulled him a little closer, your hand gently cradling his jaw, your thumb running over the bruise on his face. "I’m here for you."

His eyes softened at your words, a quiet relief in his expression as if he hadn’t realized how badly he needed to hear it. He shifted slightly, his breath evening out as he allowed himself to sink into the comfort of your touch.

Without thinking, you leaned forward and kissed the bruise softly, your lips pressing gently against the tender skin.

Sol’s body tensed slightly at first, but when he realized what you were doing, he relaxed into your touch, a soft whimper leaving his mouth. You pulled back slowly, your eyes meeting his,

“Does it hurt?” you asked softly, your voice barely a whisper.

“A little,” he admitted, his voice raw and vulnerable.

You smiled, your hand gently caressing his cheek again. “I’ll take care of you,” you promised, your voice sweet and soothing.

You took your time with Sol, watching him squirm under your gaze, watching his fingers flex into the fabric of his jeans as he oh so badly wanted to touch you, to finally claim some part of you as his, but he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to just yet. His hands twitched again, and you could almost see the struggle inside him as he fought against the urge to just take you.

You smiled sweetly, almost mockingly. “You’ve been so patient, haven’t you, Sol?” Your voice was low, almost teasing, but firm, with some authority behind your words. “Waiting for your moment, letting me take control earlier today just so you could feel me touch you. But you’ve been sneaking around, haven’t you?”

Sol’s breath hitched, his breaths coming out more shaky as he finally looked up at you, a mix of guilt and longing in his eyes. His lips parted, but no words came out, he was frozen, completely paralyzed by your presence, by the way you were watching him like he was the only thing that mattered.

“I noticed, you know,” you whispered, “How you’ve been slipping things into my food and drinks, trying to make me… yours. You thought I wouldn’t notice? That I wouldn’t catch you?”

His face flushed a deep crimson, his eyes dropping to the floor in shame, but his hands, those pathetic, trembling hands, reached out ever so slightly, like a desperate plea for permission or maybe a beg for forgiveness.

“Don’t be shy now,” you said with a laugh, voice dripping with mock affection as you pulled him by his shirt collar, bringing him closer to your face. “You’ve been sneaking into my apartment, haven’t you? Sneaking in through the window like a little fox…” You leaned in, letting your breath brush against his ear as you whispered, “I’ve heard you, Sol. I’ve heard you whispering to me at night, your voice so sweet, so desperate, telling me things you’d never say to my face. Pumpkin… what a cute nickname you chose.”

His body trembled, a soft whimper escaping his lips, but still, he didn’t move. He was so pathetically frozen in place, listening to you expose all his dirty little secrets… the drugs, the sneaking in… the way he’d slip in your bed and masturbate to your sleeping body. He swallowed hard.

“It’s a good thing I’m so merciful isn’t it?”

You laughed, pulling back and shaking your head. “My my Sol, for such a quiet little mouse you sure are interesting…”

You took his trembling hands in yours, giving them a soft squeeze as you guided them toward your legs. His fingers brushed the smooth warmth of your skin, and you let him feel the heat, knowing how badly he wanted this.

"Go on," you murmured, your voice silky and soothing, "Touch me, Sol. You've been dreaming of this, haven’t you? Let me show you how merciful I can be, if you prove to me just how much you want me. Maybe… just maybe, I won’t report any of this. Maybe..."

You let the words hang in the air, leaning in close enough to let your lips graze against his ear as you whispered with a teasing, seductive tone, "Maybe I’ll even agree to be your little girlfriend. How does that sound?"

Sol’s entire body shuddered at your words, his hands trembling slightly as they moved slowly up your legs, his touch gentle, as if you were porcelain beneath his touch. You could practically feel his pulse racing under your fingertips. He nodded quickly, his eyes wide with hunger, pleading with you without saying a word. His need was written all over his face.

You smiled, guiding his hands firmly against your thighs, urging him to feel you, to explore your skin. His rough hands traced every inch, and you let him, savoring the sweet desperation in his movements. "You’ve been so good for me, my sweet Sol," you whispered, a slow smile spreading across your lips as you tilted your head, watching him squirm under your control. "Let me show you what happens when you finally listen."

His breath hitched as your hands guided his hands up higher, your fingers wrapping around his trembling wrists and pushing them gently under the hem of your shorts. You spread your legs just a little more, your voice soft but still with that undertone of dominance. "There, baby. Feel how much I want you… feel how wet you’ve made me."

Sol’s eyes grew wide, his face turning a deep shade of red. He was in disbelief, completely overwhelmed by the fact that this was happening, that he was finally here with you, in your bedroom too. He knew he didn’t deserve this, not after everything he’d done to you in secrecy, yet there he was, touching you, feeling you in ways he’d only dreamed of.

You looked at him, your gaze trailing over him, as you traced your fingers lightly over his wrist, keeping him in place. “Tell me, Sol,” you purred, your voice dropping low with a hint of control, "What would you do if I let you have me? What would you do if I told you, you could touch me however you wanted?”

He swallowed hard, the sound of it echoing in the room as his lips parted. His mouth was dry, his body trembling with anticipation. “I-I…” Sol started, his voice cracking, his hands were shaking as they pressed into your thighs, desperate for contact. “I’d treat you like a goddess, you’re everything to me… my pumpkin, please, please let me make you feel good... nobody could make you feel as good as I could, I swear!”

His words spilled out in a desperate stream, his voice breaking at the edges as if every syllable was an admission of just how badly he wanted you. He leaned further onto your legs, eyes shining with a mix of worship and pure need, each shaky breath just confirming to you that he needed you so badly, he was yours.

You looked down at him, a smug smile playing on your lips, savoring the sound of his whiny pleas. The way his hands flexed against your thighs, barely able to keep himself in check, only made you smile wider. You could practically feel how much he was trembling under your gaze.

“Your goddess, huh?” you purred, your voice laced with teasing satisfaction. “Then prove it, Solivan. Show me why I should be yours and no one else.”

You didn’t need to say much more. His eyes fluttered with a quick flash of excitement, and without hesitation, you spread your legs fully. Your shorts, a simple barrier, were thrown somewhere in your bedroom as you casually shrugged them off and tossed them. You gestured for him to come closer, your expression remaining sweet, almost mocking.

Sol’s breath hitched at the sight of you, and you could see the way his eyes glazed over, entirely captivated by you. His hands shook as they reached up to help you, trembling like he couldn’t believe you were giving him this chance, this opportunity to serve you. He swallowed again, this time his throat dry with nervousness, with longing, to make you feel good.

As his face hovered near your thighs, his breath fanning across your skin, you felt his pulse in his hands against your legs, a soft thumping. His lips parted as though he couldn’t decide whether to speak or just give in to the overwhelming urge to eat you up.

Finally, with a whimper, he murmured, his voice weak, “Please... let me make you feel good. I need to... I need to make you feel good, like you deserve. Please, just let me...” His voice was almost pleading, love sick almost, as he begged for permission.

You could feel the heat of his breath as his lips brushed your inner thigh. His lips dragging along your thighs, just barely touching the skin as he looked up at you for permission to move further.

“You’re so pathetic,” you whispered, watching him carefully.

He shivered.

“But I like it. I like the way you need me... how much you want to make me feel good. Do it, Solivan. Show me how far you’ll go to prove you’re mine.”

His eyes practically gleamed with devotion. Without another word, he lowered himself, breath still shaky, as he kissed the soft skin of the inside of your thighs. The warmth of his lips made you shiver, his kisses slow, gentle, trailing up your inner thigh.

He then traced his lips lower, gently teasing, as if he wanted to savor every inch of you. He couldn’t contain the soft whimper that escaped him as he nudged your legs apart even further.

His voice, barely above a whisper, came out in a desperate plea, “Please... I want to taste you. Let me. Please.”

You nodded, giving him the go ahead to take your soaked underwear off.

His hands moved up your legs, tracing the soft skin, and tugging your underwear off, setting them to the side. You shivered when the cool air blew between your legs. Sol’s lips were so close, his breath fanning against your sensitive skin. You could feel him hesitating, like he was nervous, awaiting more approval.

“Stop staring and just do it, Sol,” you spoke breathlessly, your voice a mix of impatience and amusement. “You wanted to make me feel good, right? Show me baby.”

He leaned in, his lips finally brushing against your pussy, and you couldn’t stop the sharp breath that left your mouth. The first few touches were gentle, trailing along your skin like he was testing the waters. But when you finally made a small noise– a soft moan, he didn’t hold back anymore.

His tongue swirled around your clit, sucking it softly, and you shuddered at the way he touched you, a long drawn out moan leaving your mouth once more. His lips moving eagerly, licking, kissing, exploring.

Every little sound he made was muffled against your pussy, but you could tell how much he wanted it, how much he needed to do this. His hands gripped your thighs tighter, painted fingernails digging shallow crescents into your skin as he pulled you closer, like he was trying to bury himself in you.

“Fuck,” you whispered, tilting your head back as he continued. You couldn’t help the way your body reacted to him, the way his touch made you burn with pleasure. Every flick of his tongue had you gasping, your hands reaching for his dark hair, gripping it carefully as if you needed something to hold onto, bucking your hips up at the same time.

“Please, Sol,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, a soft plea that made him go even deeper, his movements quickening as he continued to eat you out, your juices mixing with his spit. It was messy, filthy even, but it felt so good as his tongue licked up and down.

Sol’s hand lifted up towards your pussy, and very carefully, he slipped a single finger in, easily. He thrusted it in experimentally, watching as you trembled under him, and very quickly added a second one, finger fucking you while eating you out at the same time.

His mouth was still on you, kissing and licking with such desperation, like he couldn’t get enough. You couldn’t help but squirm beneath him, your fingers running through his hair as your body twitched and spasmed, like it had a mind of its own from the pleasure.

“Sol... oh my god,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out between your gasps. His fingers were moving in perfect tempo with his tongue, hitting all the right spots while his tongue teased you, driving you crazy.

He didn’t slow down, if anything, he seemed to pick up the pace, his fingers thrusting deeper, his tongue flattening against your pussy as he licked upwards slowly. You could feel it building inside you, the pressure, the heat, the way your body was begging for release. You didn’t even know if you could hold it in much longer.

“Sol, I’m.. I’m gonna…” you gasped out, your voice almost pleading as you warned him, but he was relentless, continuing his movements.

Then, it hit you, a wave of pleasure so intense you thought you might drown in it. Your body went stiff, your hips bucking upwards into his face uncontrollably as you let out a breathless moan, feeling the high surge through you.

You couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stop the way your body just gave in completely, every part of you shuddering from the intensity, liquid splashing from between your legs onto Sol’s face.

Sol didn’t pull away, though. He just kept going, his fingers and lips moving, sucking on your clit hard, making sure you felt everything, pushing you even higher as you rode the wave of pleasure. You couldn’t think, couldn’t focus, only on him and the way he was making you feel like you were everything to him.

When you finally came down from the high, you were breathless, your chest heaving, but there was that look in his eyes again. That hungry, satisfied look that told you he wasn’t done, not by a long shot. And that look only fueled your own desire to keep going.

“Such… such a good boy for me, Sol…” You breathed out, stroking his face gently as you sat up, kissing his forehead.

Sol’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, but you could feel the tension in his body, the way his chest rose and fell with each shaky breath. It wasn’t just the fact he ate you out and saw you cum, it was… something else.

You glanced down and noticed the hard bulge straining in his pants, a little smirk pulled at your lips, and you couldn’t resist.

“Aww, my poor baby,” you cooed, your fingers tracing over his chest as you leaned in close, your lips brushing his ear. “Want me to help with that?”

Sol’s hands tightened on your thighs, and his breath hitched. His jaw clenched, and you could see the way his eyes darted between you and his hard, clothed cock. “Please,” he murmured, almost embarrassed but so clearly needing it. “Please, I need you.”

With a playful chuckle, you leaned back, giving him a teasing smile. “Good boy,” you whispered, “Let’s take care of that.”

Sol finally pulled himself up from the floor, his knees sore from kneeling on the hardwood for so long, but honestly, his mind was too clouded with desire to care. He was so close, so close to being with you in the way he’d dreamed about. The pain in his knees? Barely a thought. He’d ignore it. For now.

He loomed over you, standing on the edge of the bed, and gave you a look that sent a thrill straight through you. You noticed that wild, hungry glint in his eyes as he motioned for you to move up further, his hand reaching out to guide you with that same possessive touch.

You obeyed without hesitation, scooting back until you were comfortable against your pillows. Sol crept closer, his body now blocking out the light above, using his hands to push your legs apart, his fingers warm and firm against your skin.

"My pumpkin… so fucking beautiful," he whispered, and the words made your stomach flutter.

He kissed your skin gently at first, his lips trailing along your throat and jawline, all while his cock strained painfully against his jeans. The way he moved ever so slowly, made every inch of him feel impossibly more enticing.

His hands shook a little as he undid the zipper on his jeans, sliding them and his boxers down in one fluid motion, his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

He was there, right over you, his body pressing into yours, and that feeling of his weight made your heart race. You reached up, letting your fingers trail across his chest and through his messy hair, feeling how warm he was, how every muscle flexed with each subtle move.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” you teased, your voice soft.

His expression shifted, impatience flashing in his eyes. "I've wanted this for so long, pumpkin... I'm always ready for you," he breathed, his voice thick and raw.

Without another word, Sol lowered himself, and his lips found yours in a kiss that felt entirely different from the others. This one was slow, intense, filled with an aching kind of care.

His hands cradled your face gently as he pulled away for a moment, eyes locked with yours as he scanned your face, as if trying to read every little reaction you had.

“I need you,” he whispered, voice heavy with desperation, his hands moving back down to his cock to line himself up with you.

A soft kiss to your temple, and then he pushed into you, his groan escaping as your body clenched around him. You gasped, a rush of heat flooding through you as tears threatened to spill, your eyes wide.

Was he always this big? You couldn’t remember it feeling like this when you had him in your mouth earlier, but damn, the feeling was almost overwhelming now.

Sol’s thumb wiped a stray tear from your cheek as he let you adjust, then, slowly, he began to move, each thrust deliberate and slow, savoring every little noise you made in response.

His hands gripped the sheets beside you, his body pressing down on yours as you felt every inch of him, every movement against you, each one almost too much to bear.

But Sol couldn’t stay slow for long, he grew impatient from months of yearning. His hands moved to your hips, urging you to meet his thrusts, and that’s when everything blurred.

The sound of skin against skin, the feeling of him deep inside, all mixed together as you found your rhythm, moving in sync. His name slipped from your lips, breathless, desperate, and it was all the encouragement he needed to push harder.

“S-Sol!” You cried out, feeling your body tremble beneath him, arms wrapping around his back to hold on as his hips stuttered, thrusts growing erratic.

He leaned down to kiss you again, his tongue swirling with yours as he moaned into your mouth, and you could feel the urgency in every movement.

He pulled away just enough to warn you, his voice strained.

“Pumpkin… I’m so close…”

Sol’s hips never slowed, his cock continuing to slide in and out of you, the wet sounds of your body meeting his echoing in your ears. You grinned up at him, loving the way he was unraveling, desperate for you, for the release you both craved.

“Beg me,” you whispered, your tone teasing, but there was an edge to it.

Sol froze, eyes wide as he stuttered, unsure if he heard you right.

“W-What?”

You smirked, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him even closer as you whispered again, your voice low and demanding.

“You wanna cum inside, right?”

He nodded eagerly, swallowing hard, searching your eyes for permission. You could see the hesitation mixed with need.

“Then beg me to, and I’ll let you.”

The words barely left your mouth before Sol’s face buried into your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he whimpered, pleading in a voice that made your heart race.

“Please… pumpkin, please… let me cum inside. I’ll make you mine, and I’ll be yours… please… I’ve been so good for you... please, I’m so close…”

His voice broke, breath ragged, and the desperation in his words made you ache with how much he wanted you, needed you.

“Good boy…” you breathed out, your voice full of praise as you pushed him further. “Come for me, then…”

That was all it took. Sol’s pace picked up, harder, deeper, his body jerking with each thrust as he buried himself as deep as he could go. A high-pitched moan escaped him, his body stiffening as he came inside you, his hips stuttering as warmth filled you.

You wrapped your legs tighter around him, pulling him closer, your body trembling as your own orgasm washed over you in waves. The two of you, moving together, feeling the bliss of your mutual release, your head spinning with the haze of the moment.

As Sol’s body collapsed on top of you, both of you still panting heavily, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. The way he was still twitching inside you, every breath shaky as if he couldn’t quite believe what just happened made your heart thump.

You lightly traced your fingers along his back, your touch soft and teasing. “You look so satisfied,” you murmured, your voice sweet and innocent, but you knew this wasn’t over. Not yet.

Sol groaned softly, his forehead pressed against yours, but you could see the edge of that hunger still lingering in his eyes, even if he was trying to catch his breath. “I... I’m not done with you yet, pumpkin,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, full of that same desperate need.

“Oh, really?” you said, raising an eyebrow and pretending to act innocent, even as your heart pounded with anticipation for what was to come next. “You sure? You seem pretty spent to me.”

You could see him struggle to find his words, his hands tightening on your waist as if he was trying to hold himself back. “I—I’ll never be done with you. Not when you’re like this.”

You giggled softly, teasing him one last time before you moved just enough to make him shiver, your breath light against his ear. “Mmm, you’re adorable. But don’t get too ahead of yourself. You’ve earned a little break.”

With that, you pulled away slightly, just enough to let him catch his breath before you leaned in again, your lips brushing against his, as you kissed him so sweetly. “But don’t think I’m going to let you off that easily,” you whispered with a grin, knowing full well it was far from over.

Sol’s eyes flashed, a grin tugging at his lips as he pulled you closer again, remembering your words from earlier. “Does this mean you’ll be my girlfriend?”

You only giggled in response, settling into his arms.

“I’ll think about it during our next round, kay?”

Sol buried himself back into your neck, inhaling your sweet scent, deeply and slowly. He nodded in response, and whispered in your ear.

“I love you… my pumpkin.”

💚˖ ִֶָ 𓂃⭒

tags hehe:

- @1heartsubm1ssivemen

- @theslasherslut

- @orchidlaced

- @26saints26

[matchpointfaist]

dilf! art

he finally worked up the nerve to text you after a long two days, after much deliberation of if this was even ethical, if pursuing his peers daughter made him a creep. he decided that, no, it didn’t. your dad was older than him, and he still spent time surrounded by athletes your age anyway. plus, you had to be interested, or you would have never given him the time of day. with all that in mind, he sent you a simple text.

‘hey, it’s art. how are you?’

you replied soon after, casting a small smile across his face.

‘hi! i’m good, you? i didn’t see you around the courts this morning.’

god, had you looked for him? the thought twisted into something obscene so quickly that he had to blink it away, shaking his head and trying to regain focus.

‘i’m at home, actually. have an event this afternoon in the city.’

it was safe, he told himself. small talk with an acquaintance, that’s all. just friendly.

‘oo, what event? that’s such a funny coincidence, i’ll be in the city tonight as well at the club’s charity gala.’

oh, god. oh, he was so fucked. an entire night, with you, in a semi intimate setting. your father would probably be there. hell, his ex wife would probably be there.

‘i’ll be there too. small world.’

his throat was dry as he sent the message, his teeth worrying over his bottom lip, a mix of dread and excitement curling in his stomach.

‘see you tonight then! xx’

art, embarrassingly, spent the entire car ride to the gala psyching himself up for seeing you. he went over all the variables and possibilities, all the ways that he needed to avoid making a complete fool of himself, all the ways he wanted to impress you.

time stopped when he saw you, your satin dress sparkling in the light, your laugh carrying through the room and going straight to his head. your dress was short and your heels were tall and you looked like a fucking model, like a daydream, a vision of tanned legs and shimmery makeup.

“oh, mr. donaldson!” the sound of his name from your lips snapped him from his trance, and he smiled the best he could, practically buzzing with your proximity, “i’m glad you made it. here, i saved you a seat next to me. my father couldn’t make it, so it was empty,”

“oh, thank you,” he grabbed a champagne flute from a passing server, trying not to let his gaze linger too much as you lead him to the seats, your hips swaying with every step. it was gonna be a long night, he thought to himself. especially without your father to be a buffer.

thankfully, once you took your seats, the long droning of speeches started. over an hour of pledges and donation announcements and information on the benefits of the charity, things that he didn’t particularly care about but was suddenly grateful for, since it kept him from making any reckless mistakes involving you.

god, you. you’d been drinking champagne like it was going to disappear, glass after glass without any other substance to keep you from getting too drunk. you were giggling by the time the speeches wrapped, laughing at nothing in particular, covering your mouth as you did. he should’ve suggested you slow down- shouldve done the right thing, been a good influence, been the mature one.

but then your hand was on his shoulder, and the giggles had stopped, replaced by a glint in your eyes that he couldn’t quite place. “you’re so strong,” you told him, smiling and biting your lip, looking him over, “is that all from tennis, mr. donaldson? your arms are so big,” and you were squeezing at his bicep with your manicured hands, watching him in a way that made his heart stutter.

“it’s- yeah, it’s all from tennis. i mean, i work out too, but tennis is most of it,” he cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure, “i think you’re drunk, sweetheart. do you want me to call you an uber? or do you have someone that can come pick you up? this was right- the ethical thing to do. to send you off and shake this from his mind and steer clear from now on.

“i don’t wanna go home,” you sighed, leaning your head back on your chair dramatically, “my driver will be here in an hour and a half. i’ll be fine,”

“you had seven glasses, i think fine is an exaggeration,” he mumbled, “let me take you home. i don’t want anything to happen you,” he didn’t want any guys to take advantage of you- didn’t want them to do the very things he was thinking of at that moment.

to his surprise, you agreed, and he suddenly wasn’t sure if it was relief or dread he felt. when he stood to leave, you stood with him, pulling yourself up by his arm and letting your touch linger once again, looking up at him and smiling so sweetly it was hard to believe you’d been throwing back drinks all night.

“come on, darlin,” he led you outside, opening doors and excusing the two of you, calling the valet and waiting patiently. he tried to train his eyes anywhere but you, looking entirely too long at the fountain, at the other cars, anywhere but your legs and your curled hair and your- “mr. donaldson,” your voice disturbed him once again, “it’s really cold,”

he glanced over, and you were shivering in the night air, holding your arms around your chest tightly. he acted before thinking, like he always did with you, and shrugged off his suit jacket, draping it over your small shoulders lightly. “that better?” he asked softly, concern knitting his brows. you nodded, thanking him and taking the fabric into your hands, pulling it tighter around you.

“mr. don-“ “please, call me art,” it came out almost pained, but he truly didn’t know if he could take it anymore, the mr. and the way you looked at him, and then oh god- “okay, art,”

this was so much worse, his first name on your lips like that. he nearly choked on air, his cheeks reddening like a fucking high schooler. before he could dwell on it, the valet pulled his car around, tossing him the keys with a smile. he opened the door for you, looking over the car to avoid having to see your thighs sliding against the leather seat.

when he settled into the drivers side, pulling out of the lot, you finally spoke again. “your car is nice,” you hummed, tracing your fingers over the leather interior. he watched you, entranced, as he sat at a stop light. the way your fingernails scraped slightly over the fabric, the way you glanced over at him, a coy little smile on your lips.

he tried to ignore it, to just focus on the road. he maintained it for the most part, making it all the way to your street before he let it slip, glancing over at you. you looked to be half asleep, all curled up in his suit coat, your heels discarded in the floor and your feet tucked into the seat. you looked so peaceful, so angelic, he had to force his eyes away so he didn’t wreck his car.

he pulled into the drive, letting it idle just outside your gate, reaching over to touch your shoulder gently. “hey, sweetheart, you’re home,” he murmured, trying not to startle you awake, “come on, you gotta get up,”

you made a little noise as you stirred, turning in the seat to look up at him, yawning quietly. “thank you,” you said softly, and the air was suddenly so thick, it was so warm and you were so fucking beautiful- “will your wife be wondering where you are?”

all the breath left his lungs at that, at the presumption in your tone, the way you glanced him over as you asked. “ex wife,” he choked out, “we’re not- we got divorced,” “mm,” you hummed, smiling slightly, “that’s a shame. i’m sorry to hear that,”

“don’t be,” he said a little too quickly, “you really should go, darlin. it’s late,” you sat back to unbuckle your seatbelt, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to him carefully. “thank you again for the ride, art,” you said quietly, “it was really sweet of you. most guys would’ve tried something,”

the image was almost too much for him to bear- the thought of trying something with you, of getting to touch you, to make you come undone right there in the passenger seat of his car. he shifted in his seat, clearing his throat, struggling to focus. “well, most guys are stupid,” he muttered, “you’re obviously too drunk to do anything,”

you let out a little laugh at that, shaking your head. “you’re so chivalrous,” you smiled, “maybe it’s because you’re older. i’m so tired of guys my age,” jesus christ, he was a goner. “yeah?” he exhaled shakily, “you’re tired of them? why’s that?”

“they just don’t know how to treat a woman,” you shrugged, “they’re rushed and greedy and assholes,” you giggled quietly, “you know how it is. i’m sure you have younger girls hanging all over you,” god, he wanted to. “no, no,” he shook his head quickly, “i don’t- i don’t want to take advantage of anyone that way,”

you leaned a little closer, the smell of your perfume suddenly clogging his senses, “well let me know if you ever change your mind,” you whispered, the heat blowing through the vents nearly drowning out the sound.

“sweetheart, you don’t- you’re drunk,” he managed to get out, his hands itching to grab at you, to do something. “i’m not that drunk,” you argued, pouting slightly, “anyway, i’m just saying. you have my number,”

you turned to get out, and he knew it was stupid, knew it was reckless and a bad idea and he’d regret it tomorrow and you were young and he was such a bad person, but then he was kissing you and you made a soft little preening sound and he knew he’d never regret it, not truly. he’d be a bad person if it meant he got to do this again, if he got to be the one to make you make that sound.

you kissed him back, draped across his center console to reach him, your hands on his shoulders and grabbing at his dress shirt and he could’ve lost it right there, could’ve pushed the seat back and pulled you into his lap and fucked you stupid, could’ve made you see what you were missing with all the boys your age. and he was sure you would’ve let him, if the noises you made from just his kisses were any indicator.

but then the motion light at your gate was on, and he was yanking away from you like a criminal caught, his eyes wide as he looked at your blown out pupils and smeared lipstick. “oh, shit,” you said under your breath, fixing your dress and grabbing your heels, “my dad tried to call my cell, i didn’t even notice. thank you again, art. i’ll see you at the club,”

and then you were gone, leaving the scent of your perfume and the tent in his slacks behind. he watched you put in the gate code and disappear behind it, his mind running wild with what he could’ve done to you.

when he got home, he tried to shower it off, to wash off the all consuming need he felt for you, the sins he’d nearly committed in his car. but his hands wandered and soon he was cursing and moaning your name under his breath as he came undone under the shower stream, images of you and that dress playing like a film in his mind.

when he got into bed and checked his phone, he had one unread message.

‘i had fun tonight. goodnight, art. x’

[desireangel]

A Good Girl's Reputation | Aemond Targaryen

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: It was the last place you wanted to be but nonetheless, you found yourself pulled along to a party you hosted by none other than the Targaryen's, only for spilled wine to force you into Aemond's shirt. A sight that had him dragging you to his bed, eager to corrupt the well-behaved girl who had set him ablaze with desire.

Word Count: 6.7k.

Warnings: MDNI 18+ only!! Oral (f receiving), unprotected P in V sex, dirty talk!!, a major cliche on the good girl trope, reader is shy!, slight degradation, mean friends at a party maybe?, Aegon being sneaky, bad language. Unedited. Please let me know if I missed anything!

Author's Note: Okay, I wasn't going to post this one because it was purely self-indulgent and I kinda wasn't happy with my pen game in this but I was feeling bad about the delay in Dark Cherry part 5 so wanted to share something!! I also love the idea of Aemond being totally feral about seeing reader in his clothes. Share your thoughts my loves, I'm more than happy to discuss things, thoughts and feedback with you all - xoxo, kisses!! <3

There was a nonsensical grandeur about everything that Jilly dragged you into. This time was no different and you silently waited for the sound of the elevator ding while listening to your best friend chatter about the ‘world’s best fucking boyfriend–wait, do you think this makes him my boyfriend?’

“I don’t know, Jilly,” you nibbled on your lip, craning your neck to look around the corner of the entrance hallway. For what reason, you weren’t sure but there was a crawling nervousness on your skin and the urge to make sure there were no unexpected surprises was consuming. “It’s Aegon. Only he can answer that question for you.”

The elevator was taking an infuriatingly long time. You wondered if this was the building’s way of telling you to turn around and return to the dorm room that had become your safe haven over the last two years. Jilly had somehow gotten herself involved with none other than Aegon Targaryen, a man notorious for his partying and hedonism.

It was entertaining at first, and you were more than happy to remain a spectator of the ridiculous pairing. Jilly was entirely different to Aegon and tended to carry herself with a lot more modesty than Aegon was known for. She was calculating and calm where he was impulsive and excitable. 

You thought back to the first time they had met. In a tutorial for a statistics class you needed to take to meet course requirements, the three of you paired together to facilitate a useless discussion on probabilities. The bickering between the two of them was amusing and the first greeting that Aegon had graced the two of you with was a grumbled ‘what kind of name is Jilly?’

And weeks later, Aegon had decided to hold another one of his campus-famous house parties. He had obviously invited Jilly–and by extension he had invited you because there was no chance Jilly would go to a party without you. In fact, before she had met Aegon, there was no chance Jilly would go to any party regardless. 

A loud, excited hmph! fell from Jilly’s lips when the elevator doors finally opened. You had hoped it had broken down on its way to pick you up and that there was a rather convenient lack of staircase to climb instead. 

“I don’t think–”

“Don’t say it,” Jilly held a hand in front of your face. She clicked on P with her other hand. For the penthouse, you guessed. “I know you don’t want to be here. But we are going to have a good night.” 

You sighed, tugging the short, black skirt that Jilly had wrestled you into further down your thighs. It looked good paired with the white satin button down you had insisted on wearing for comfort but it was shorter than you were accustomed to. The thought of maintaining it enough so it didn’t ride up past your bum was tiresome but there was no arguing which you could do to wiggle your way into some pants instead. 

Jilly snickered. “Quit fiddling with your skirt, you’ll poke a hole in your tights–Oh!”

The two of you shared a gasp when the doors opened. No wonder people had so much to say about the Targaryen siblings and their parties when their apartment looked like it was straight out of a Forbes magazine. For a moment, it seemed impossible that the apartment housed two students. It was incomparable to the wardrobe sized dorm you had been living in over the semester. 

Distant chatter pulled you out of your thoughts and you followed Jilly further into the apartment, reminding yourself not to let your jaw drop as your eyes adjusted to the dimmed lighting. The party was an hour or so away from starting - Aegon had told everyone to head in after seven but had given Jilly an earlier time so that the two of you could join their pre-game. 

Not that you would. The prospect of getting as drunk as Aegon planned at your (embarrassingly?) first student party was daunting. 

Anxiously, you followed Jilly into the living area where a handful of familiar faces were lounging and drinking. There was a deep bumping of bass, and you could feel the floor vibrating with it, but you couldn’t make out the song that was playing. 

“Jill!” Floris, Aegon’s friend who you had only ever seen on campus, pulled Jilly towards the nearest couch. Hesitantly, you followed, flashing Aegon and Cregan a purse-lipped smile as they made their way to greet you. “We were worried you wouldn’t show up. Is this your friend?”

With a smile, you introduced yourself. Floris only grinned at you before returning her attention to Jilly, who had started up an animated conversation with Helaena. Aegon whistled at Jilly, tipping the neck of his beer in her direction as if to say hello, and threw his other arm around your shoulder. 

He laughed when you cringed, pulling back from him slightly. Aegon smelled like a mixture of beer, red wine and sandalwood cologne. “We placed bets on whether you’d show up. Glad you did. There’s multiple motherfuckers in here who owe me a silver stag each. Not that I need it.”

You spluttered a bit. “What-” 

“Relax,” Cregan teased you from the other side of Aegon. He was clearly drunk. “You’re clearly not much of a party girl but that changes two-” he held up two fingers and then aggressively pointed them down at the floor with a jerk. “-night.” 

Aegon laughed, handing you a glass of wine which suddenly appeared in his hand. You shook your head and he shrugged, downing it himself. He turned away from you, waving someone down. “Aemond!”

Oh gods, no. 

You tried to keep your smile on your face. Aemond fucking Targaryen was leaning against a counter, a beer loosely hanging between his fingers. He was in the middle of a conversation with Criston Cole, a friend of their family who you had heard of only through mindless campus gossip. Aemond glanced toward Aegon in response, an eyebrow raised lazily. 

If there were ever a man you had crushed on, it really had to be him. It was a little bit maddening because you were exactly like your peers in thinking Aemond may be the most attractive man you’d ever see in your lifetime. He was tall, had an air of darkness and mystery to him and his silver hair framed his defined cheekbones and sharp jawline perfectly. But it was the severity in everything about him that had caught your eye–right from the first lecture you had seen him in. 

Aemond, as you understood, had no idea who you were. And while you knew exactly who he was, it wasn’t odd. Everyone knew of him and his family. He had practically been birthed into the public eye. 

“This pretty thing here,” Aegon, much to your protest, had pulled you across the room to introduce you. “Jilly’s best friend. Much like you, dear brother, she hates parties and is not here by her own will. You’d get along.”

Aemond looked at you and you suddenly had no idea what to do with yourself. You met his eye, fiddling with the hem of your skirt and waiting for whatever this moment was to end quickly. Your skin was tingling under his gaze which dropped from your head to your feet and then back to your face. 

When he didn’t say anything, you offered him a tight lipped smile and a timid wave. “Hi?”

He was going to respond. You could see it in the way he had moved but Aegon was quick to cut him off, ever the loud mouthed brat. As subtle as Aegon believed himself to be, he was an incredibly obnoxious drunk.  

“Surely,” Aegon drawled, wrapping his arms around Jilly’s waist when she appeared by your side and pulling her into him tightly. Mockingly, he targeted his question at Jilly but switched his gaze between her and Aemond. “Your little-good-girl friend could use a bit of corrupting, Jills. Seems like Aemond would be entirely capable, from what Floris has–”

“That’s enough, Aegon,” Aemond’s voice was smooth and darker than you’d expected. He gave you a small, reassuring yet tight smile. “Don’t be an ass. Let her be.”

You were a little breathless. Sure, you didn’t quite let go of yourself as much as everyone else did but you were no prude. Right? 

There was no offence intended in Aegon’s teasing but you couldn’t help but feel the sting. He was right–you were relatively good. All of your time and effort went into studying and working. Where you weren’t doing either of those, you preferred the solitude of a good book at a quiet cafe. There were very few bad habits in your life, the worst of which would only be the likes of a dependence on tea or coffee. Parties were a rarity but on the odd occasion you would tag along wherever Jilly would go. And, regardless of that, here you were.

It was embarrassing. You had hoped that if you were to ever introduce yourself to Aemond, things would go slightly better than this and your uptight prudish reputation (which you didn’t realise you had until today) would remain undiscussed. He was different and he didn’t tend to spend his time with people of your tendencies. Aemond was the object of everyone’s desires; if they didn’t want to have him then they certainly wanted to be him. 

You were clearly different from his normal type. If only for the fact that he also had a reputation and that reputation consisted of a string of heartbroken girls who he had never pursued or never shared more than his bed with. Those girls were a lot more like his friends; confident, daring and well accomplished. Aemond was not Aegon; there was a lot more respect in the way people spoke of him and his academic and professional talents were impressive to most people. 

Thankfully, Jilly had pulled you away from that dreadful conversation with a harsh glare pointed at Aegon. The kitchen, which was the closest place for you to hide, was filled with snacks and drinks almost falling off of the countertops. You recognised Helaena, and waved at her.

Helaena had been a friend whenever you had bumped into each other. She was sweet and kind and you actually enjoyed her company. “It’s nice to see you, Helaena. Didn’t think we’d ever run into each other at a house party but hey, it’s been an hour full of surprises.”

She laughed with you. There was an easy flow of conversation between the two of you and when Floris and Jilly had taken to what they called ‘Kitchen Karaoke’, you had even danced together. Jilly, as drunk as she was, pushed the bottle of wine in her hand to you, waiting for you to drink. With some encouragement from Helaena and Floris, you smiled and took a few sips. 

The peace you had found in the kitchen was short lived and when Jilly, joined by Aegon and caught up in her exaggerated Lady Gaga performance, flung her arm out, the bottle of wine in her hand spilling right onto your chest and soaking through the white fabric of your shirt. 

“Shit,” she winced. It was cold and you had a small sense of panic that raised goosebumps on your skin at the thought of wearing a wet, stained shirt all night but at the drunken apologetic look on her face all you could do was force a smile. Jilly giggled nervously. “At least it makes your tits look good.”

“Right,” you mumbled, fingers pulling the wet fabric off of your skin. It was uncomfortably sticking to your skin and the smell of the red wine was beginning to catch. “No problem.”

Aegon tapped your shoulder gently and gave you an animated salute. “Don’t worry, I’ll find you something from the fresh laundry.”

You followed him into the laundry, which was only just around the corner, waiting as he grinned and shuffled through the clothes that were sitting in the dryer. When Aegon turned to you, he had a stupid toothy smile and passed you a grey shirt. “Wear that. It’ll be big but it’ll still look good with the rest of your outfit if you tuck it in or something.”

The t-shirt Aegon handed you was a little long but you weren’t going to complain when you were much happier to be in dry clothing. It was a Slipknot shirt, the graphic on the front slightly worn down with time and washes. You figured it could have been worse–at least Slipknot were good. Aegon had long gone, giving you privacy to change and when you stepped out of the laundry room, you were surprised to see that people had started piling into the apartment. 

Some hip-hop song you could barely recognise played loudly and you were a little thrown off by the crowds of unfamiliar faces. But everyone was having a good time, smiling and dancing among themselves. 

Cigarettes, cologne and coffee filled your senses and you let out a small yelp as you met with a hardened surface, stumbling a little to catch yourself. Aemond’s hands reached out to grab hold of your arms, holding you steady against him so that you wouldn’t fall to the ground. 

“Easy, missy,” he stepped back slightly, as if he were trying to get a good look at you. As Aemond dragged his gaze over you from head to toe, he smirked and hummed deeply.

The heat that rushed to your cheeks was quick and you wondered if Aemond had always smelled so delicious. Your mind was clouded by him and the way he didn’t remove his hands from you, his fingers still gently squeezing your flesh and keeping you far closer to him than you needed to be. 

Whatever it was, if he continued to look at you with so much intensity and hold you as if he didn’t want to let go of you, there was a high chance you’d do something that would only leave you disappointed and embarrassed. 

“Sorry,” you squeaked, pulling away from him in one movement and rushing into the kitchen. Jilly grinned at you, eyebrows wagging exaggeratedly in her drunken state. 

The rest of the girls had found their way to the kitchen, which had actually quietened down even more in the short moments you were away. You found yourself once again at Helaena’s side, watching as Jilly danced with her bottle of wine in hand, and failing to listen to the conversation that was somehow still in flow. 

If you were being honest, the party was a certain type of boring. There was a lot going on yet nothing at the same time and you chalked it up to the fact that you weren’t that friendly with anyone here. Helaena was only part of the crowd because she lived here and Jilly was becoming a part of Aegon’s group of mates, all of whom you knew of but had no real friendship with. 

Floris, who had been staring at you on and off since you had returned, took a sip of her drink and flashed you an odd look. “Is that Aemond’s shirt?”

Helaena giggled beside you, watching you keenly as you frowned. When you answered, Floris looked at you with narrowed eyes. You cleared your throat, nervously nibbling on your bottom lip. “I assumed it was Aegon’s since he gave it to me.”

“What was wrong with what you came in?”

“Floris, you saw that blouse get ruined,” Jilly rolled her eyes, stepping closer to you when she noticed the gentle alarm on your face. “She couldn’t have stayed in a stained top. It won't dry out until tomorrow.”

Floris only huffed, regarding you with a harsh stare and a forced shrug. There was an odd silence that lingered and you considered offering her an apology. But you quickly realised that you didn’t really have anything to apologise for, even though it is probably Aemond’s t-shirt and it was no secret that Floris was all about Aemond. 

The night was passing slowly and you continued to make small talk with the same few people you knew. But the weight of Floris’ glare never disappeared. And Aemond, with his gentle smirk and quiet confidence, had been lingering the entire night. You were half-certain that it was Floris who was the purpose of his prolonged presence in the kitchen, which had become somewhat of a break room for everyone at this point.

There was a pointed silence from him aside from the few words he had muttered in conversation with Helaena or Daeron yet his gaze was communicating more than his words could. Aemond kept looking towards you, his wanting eye holding yours assertively whenever you’d catch him watching you. You couldn’t help the heat that crept up your neck at the way he looked you up and down at every chance he got. 

It was suffocating when paired with the daggers you could feel from Floris’ stares and Aegon’s vexing grin. 

“I’m going outside for a bit,” you told Helaena, placing your glass down on the counter and flashing a pursed-lip smile at whoever caught your eye on your way towards the terrace. 

The journey to the terrace wasn’t easy and you could feel your throat closing in as you tried to squeeze through crowds of people. It was sweaty and loud, shoulders knocking and elbows bumping as you finally pushed your way through to a secluded part of the terrace, sighing at the fresh air and solitude. 

Once again, your peace didn’t last long before you caught a flash of silver in your peripheral. 

Aemond stood beside you, so close that your shoulder brushed the leather of his jacket. “You alright?” 

His proximity had turned your brain silent and you simply nodded, forcing your eyelids not to flutter shut at his delicious smell. There was a comfortable silence that followed. He rested his elbows on the railing as you were, relaxing against it and watching the street below. 

A tickle on your cheek from a loose strand of Aemond’s hair following the breeze woke you up from the haze you were entering. “Not enjoying the party?”

“I don’t like parties,” he chuckled, reaching into his pocket. 

You snickered, eyes trailing across his hands as he fiddled with a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. Taking a moment to admire the way his rings complemented his nimble yet clearly strong fingers, you couldn’t believe how attractive a man’s hands could be.  “You’re not like your brother, then. That’s good–couldn’t handle having two Aegon’s about.”

Aemond shook his head, smiling as he held the box out to you. “Thankfully my brother and I are not alike. Cig?”

“Not for me.”

He hummed, popping a cigarette between his lips and holding the lighter to it. “Good. Do you mind?”

You didn’t have much else to say other than a shrug, letting him know it was alright for him to smoke. It would hardly be anything to complain about with the way Aemond seemed to look ten times sexier with a cigarette between his fingers and hanging from his lips. 

“I guess your reputation isn’t a lie,” Aemond let his eye fall to you, holding a world of darkness and sin as he smirked at you. A cheeky grin played on his lips as he turned to his side, resting on his arm and leaning back a bit to look at you better. 

You swallowed thickly. A wave of heat to your core had you turning away from him, the intensity of how he looked at you like you were tempting all of his urges. “I just try to stay clear of bad habits. It doesn’t really matter.”

“So you are a good girl,” Aemond leaned closer, his fingers gently tipping your head upwards at your chin. He was closer than he was before you had blinked and all of your senses were overwhelmed by him. “I like that. I wonder if Aegon was right about us.”

Because of the way he was holding your chin, firmly and gently at the same time, you had no choice but to meet his gaze. Goosebumps arose on your skin and you shivered despite the burn of his fingers on your skin. 

“Let me take you somewhere more comfortable,” Aemond drawled. The air grew charged when he grazed his lips against yours, so softly it was almost nonexistent. “They all thought I would be the one to corrupt you but I can show you all the ways you’ve corrupted my mind instead.”

The small gasp that fell from your lips made his jaw tick and he let go of your chin, dragging the knuckles of his fingers across your cheek affectionately. 

You nodded and cleared your throat quietly, surprised at your own eagerness. “But I don’t understand.”

“I think you do,” Aemond gently lowered his hand to hold your hip, letting one last puff of smoke out before putting his cigarette out. He guided you inside, keeping you right in front of him and his free arm loosely extended in front of your body to stop people from pushing into you. His lips lingered at your ear all the while. “You were already a pretty little thing, missy. But I never could have guessed that you’d be so fucking delicious in my clothes.” 

You were grateful that you weren’t facing him. He couldn’t see the flush that had crossed your expression and had you shying away gently but only to sink further against his chest as he led you through a quieter hallway. When Aemond pushed open the door to his bedroom, he finally noticed your dishevelled state and let out an affectionate huff. 

Only letting go of you for a moment so that he could close the door behind him, Aemond had turned you to face him and pulled you back to your place against his body. His bedroom was pointedly his; neat and collected, the walls decorated with a few posters of the bands he likes and bookshelves that were almost filled entirely. It smelled like clean linen and his cologne. 

“Wait.” You remembered the girl who had been far more than unhappy to see you in his shirt and stiffened. “I thought you and Floris-”

“Floris and I are nothing,” Aemond was calm when he spoke, still watching you with that fierce desire that you had felt from him when you bumped into him earlier on. You swallowed down your apprehension visibly, avoiding eye contact. “I promise.”

Odd, considering you were well aware he didn’t need to promise you anything. 

Aemond watched your chest heave with your heavy breaths, covered entirely by his favourite t-shirt which draped perfectly from your breasts. A hand returned to your hip, squeezing lightly while the other rested at the crevice of your neck and shoulder, his fingers tickling your warm skin. 

He pursed his lips, hyper aware of how tense you were in his hands. “Tell me to stop and I will. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. We can just chat and get to know each other.” 

“No,” you shook your head.“I don’t want you to stop.”

It was impossible to resist the way that Aemond was pulling you against him, as if you weren’t close enough despite how you were pressed flush against him and the fabric of your clothing was all that could fit between the two of you. Gods, he smelled so good. 

Confident with your reassurance, Aemond dipped his head so close to yours that you were sharing air, his smirk returned when he felt you shiver against him. “Are you nervous?” 

“I don’t usually do this,” you muttered, eyelids fluttering shut when he brushed the tip of his nose against your cheek and pressed a featherlight kiss beside your lips, dragging them to your jaw when you instinctively moved to try catch his lips in the kiss you only now realised you were craving. But you failed and he cheekily worked away from your attempted kiss. His lips felt good on your skin and a soft gasp in his ear had him squeezing your hip harder. It reminded you what you were telling him. “We technically just met.”

He never stopped placing the smallest of kisses along your jaw, moving them towards your neck. “Technically?”

“We have a couple lectures together.”

The thought that it was rather surprising that he had never noticed much of you crossed Aemond’s mind but when you let your hand fall to his chest, fisting the lapel of his jacket and tugging like you needed him more than oxygen, it disappeared into a haze of your perfume and warmth. 

Aemond hummed as you noticed he did often. “Does it count if I take you out the day after?”

“I’m sure it does,” you bit your lip to hide your smile, frowning when he pulled away from your neck. “But only if you really want–”

All your thoughts were lost when Aemond swallowed your words, his lips finding yours eagerly. You moaned against him, stiffening for a moment as your skin flushed under his touch but returning his vigour when he laced his fingers through your hair, holding it in a tight fist. It was a perfectly coordinated mess of tongue and teeth, and Aemond never once faltered in his fervour. 

Blindly, you let him guide you to the bed, pulling him down without breaking the kiss when the edge of the bed hit the back of your legs.

In the soft glow of candlelight, the both of you were enveloped in a world of your own. The air was thick with anticipation as your bodies drew closer, the heat shared between you palpable. You tilted your head back, inviting his lips to trace a path along your neck, each kiss sending your blood rushing to your core.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

“Everything, Aemond.”

As his hands found their way under his shirt, fingers gliding over your soft skin, you let out a soft gasp, arching into him. His hands roamed freely, seeking out the warmth beneath the soft fabric, craving your skin against his own.

You felt the weight of him above you, powerful and intoxicating. With a careful urgency, Aemond sat back momentarily, pulling you with him so that he could reach to unclasp your bra. When you moved to take the shirt off with a soft smile, he stopped you. 

“Keep it on,” Aemond placed a kiss to your clothed shoulder, running his hand across the side of your leg as he let you get rid of your bra underneath the shirt. He pulled your skirt and tights off with steady hands, humming appreciatively at the way your underwear peaked out from where the t-shirt had bunched at your hips. “I want you in my shirt only.”

You watched him, entranced, as he took in the sight of you and muttered under his breath about how perfect you were for him, his eye dark with longing. Aemond moved downwards, nestling himself comfortably between your legs, pressing soft kisses along your inner thighs, his mouth warm and inviting. 

When you whined impatiently he smiled, a wicked glint in his eye, and returned to his explorations, kissing his way closer to your core. Aemond never took his eye off you and you could see him watching you from where he teasingly licked at the skin where your thigh met your covered womanhood. The tension in your core tightened and you jerked when he wrapped his lips around your clothed clit and sucked hard. 

Strong hands held your hips down as he wrapped his arms around your thighs, fingers pressing into the flesh of your thighs. Again, you whined at him. “You’re not very patient are you? Already so wet for me that I can taste your delicious pussy through the fabric. Tell me what you want.”

You propped yourself on your elbows, your arms quivering under your weight and breath hitching when you noticed his own clothes had been haphazardly taken off. Aemond was ridding you of your mind and he had barely done anything. “More, Aemond. I want more.”

“More what?”

“More of you,” you whined again, mouth watering at the way he gazed at you from where he was nestled. “I want more of you.”

Aemond complied, pulling your panties off as soon as your hips had lifted on his command. He gave you a pointed look, scolding you gently when you gave him a shy whimper, moving to shut your legs so he couldn’t see you spread for him. 

“Spread your legs, pretty girl,” he let out a coarse breath when you wordlessly did as he said, baring yourself to him and gracing him with a sight more tempting than all the gold and jewels the world had to offer. Aemond’s hands guided your thighs apart encouragingly. “That’s it–little bit more.”

His gentle commands were both exhilarating and daunting. The weight of his gaze was both thrilling and intimidating, sending heat rushing to your cheeks and your cunt and the chuckle coming from the man between your legs was enough to tell you that he had seen you clench around nothing. 

Trailing his kisses from your knees and down your thighs once again, Aemond groaned, fisting the bottom of the shirt that rested against your raised thigh and licking a long stripe between your folds. It had you sucking in a breath, the sensation of his wet tongue suddenly exploring your cunt taking over every part of your mind and body, your fingers grasping at the sheets when he lapped at your clit and moaned into your wetness.

“Gods, Aemond-” you made the prettiest noises but Aemond’s cock jumped at the way you said his name, giving him a newfound fervour as he ferociously sucked at your clit, flicking it with his tongue. 

Nothing you had experienced with anyone had you trembling from sensitivity and pleasure so easily. His tongue and lips moved against you expertly and he let his arms wrap around your thighs as they rested against his shoulders, using his thumbs to spread you even more for him. 

Spit mixed with your wetness, creating a slick that dripped from your cunt and tainted his chin and his cheeks but Aemond seemed only to revel in it. His cock grew painfully hard at the beautiful sounds you made and the sweet, slightly tart and metallic taste of you on his tongue. 

At a particularly harsh suck on your clit, you jerked, legs clamping shut around Aemond’s head as you felt your orgasm building faster than you had expected. “Aemond. Oh fuck, it’s good-”

“Are you going to come for me, missy?” Aemond asked and the vibrations of his voice while he continued to feast on you had you moaning out an incoherent answer. He was watching you as you nodded, head thrown back so all that he could see over your body and his t-shirt was your chin and glimpses of your blissful expression. 

Shuddering and struggling to even your breathing, a heated pleasure took you with surprising intensity. Aemond continued to suck on you, delving into you with his tongue and teasing you with his fingers as he helped you through your orgasm, groaning at the way your body tensed and your pussy clenched. 

Placing a final kiss on your clit with a cheeky grin, making his way up your body, enjoying the way you continued to tremble and whimper under his touch. He took a nipple into his mouth through the shirt, teasingly only giving it a moment of attention before his lips were back on yours. 

Sharing the taste of you, Aemond kissed you hungrily despite having done the same within your folds only seconds ago. It was unbelievably hot in the room and you became dizzy with how your body gave into his, moulding against him perfectly as his hips found their place between your legs. 

Aemond’s voice was dark and confident, dripping with lust. 

But you salivated at the thought of taking him in your mouth and tried to push him back. “I want you in my mouth too.”

“Not tonight.” His hand found one of your breasts, touching you over the shirt. When you pouted at him, legs still jerking around his hips, Aemond softly moaned. “Aren’t you full of surprises? Good girl like you, so eager to suck me.”

Hot and heavy, Aemond grinded his cock against you, pressing it deliciously to your clit and then taking its place with his fingers. He wondered whether the pout on your lips would disappear when he pushed a digit into you, satisfied to see it fall away and be replaced with a furrow of your eyebrows and a silent gasp. 

Keening at both his words and the way that Aemond slid another finger in and curled them inside you, searching for that spot that had your toes curling, you were increasingly desperate to taste him now that you had felt how hard and ready he was for you. “Please, let me taste you.”

“You’ll have plenty of opportunities for that.” He sighed deeply when you moaned loudly, grasping at his shoulders and pressing your face into his neck. “I would kill to feel your pretty lips on my cock. Do you want to know what I think, missy?”

Aemond was intoxicating, sending your body into overdrive and your mind hazy with need. All you could do was nod, lost in the way he was perfectly bringing you to so much bliss. 

“I think,” he purred. “That I’m going to make you mine. And that I’ll fuck the well-behaved girl right out of you in each and every shirt that I own.”

Gasping for air as he pushed himself into you, replacing his fingers with his cock, you clung to him as he stretched you out. There was a sharp sting from his size but it subsided quickly and you could feel the effects of Aemond’s cock in you all the way down your legs and to your toes. 

Aemond’s breath hitched, his eye holding yours as he gave you time to adjust, jaw clenched and holding you tightly as if he’d fall to the pits of the hells if he were to let go of you. 

For someone he had just met properly only hours ago, Aemond thought he had found his own heaven in you and your body. 

You mewled, pushing your hips forward greedily. “It feels so good-so good, Aemond.”

He slowly moved his hips, hissing and letting his forehead fall to your shoulder where he bit down gently. The way Aemond pushed deeper into you at every thrust forward stole your breath from your lungs each time. He felt like he was a virgin once again, feeling the comfort of a wet, hot cunt for the first time, losing the control he had over the urge to claim you properly and spill into you already.

Aemond was no stranger to the pleasures of the body but never had he fallen victim to weakness by a woman and Aemond was of half a mind to understand that he would do anything you asked of him simply because your bodies were a carnally perfect fit. Right now, he would burn down cities if you asked him to. 

Keeping the steady pace, Aemond’s thrusts became more forceful, driving into you harder and drawing out nonsensical murmurs and whimpers from you. It was white-hot, each thrust sending a barrage of pleasure and sensitivity through your body. 

“If only they could see you now,” Aemond’s tone was deep, laced with lust and somewhat desperate as his hips snapped into you, the sound of skin against skin and his cock pushing lewd sounds from your wetness that couldn’t be drowned out by the distant thump of the party’s music. “The perfect, innocent girl that they all believe you to be, squeezing my cock like a good little slut. Just for me.”

Blissful, incoherent sounds that he pulled from only spurred him on further and you could feel how his cock twitched and moved within you. The way that Aemond’s body fit with yours was perfect and it had that tension return to your stomach, your skin tingling and toes curling as he sped up his movements. It was blinding and deafening at the same time, stealing your breath from you each time he dragged his cock out only to push it back in. 

Shaking and trembling, your legs squeezed around his hips and Aemond grunted, his head falling to your shoulder as he grabbed the flesh of your thigh and pushing it up and holding it beside you. Angling your hips perfectly, Aemond’s rough thrusts found a sensitive spot and you gasped, back arching off the bed as you gripped him tightly in your arms. You were barely of the right mind to notice him hiss when your nails scraped across his skin. 

Aemond was convinced he had found a version of peace in your body, the feeling of your warmth and wetness squeezing him, quieting the loud, painful thoughts that never ceased in his mind. He swore, his voice constrained and his fingers digging further into your flesh. There wouldn’t be a day that could go by in which he wouldn’t be haunted by your perfect cunt and pretty sounds. It was a thought that would have had him scoffing in any other circumstances but he was so lost in you that he couldn’t find it in himself to give a damn. 

“You are so fucking-” he groaned. “Tight. Made to fit my cock perfectly.”

“Aemond-”

He chuckled, enjoying the way his name was the only word you could force out between your moans. Aemond’s hips stuttered as you clamped down around him, your eyes rolling back and falling shut as you turned away from him reflexively, pressing your head into the pillow and whining pathetically. 

“Yes, missy?” Aemond’s voice was constricted but still smooth. 

“Gonna come–I’m gonna come,” you gasped out between whimpers and moans, calling out his name as if he was your salvation.

Aemond let go of your thigh, his fingers clasping around your throat and squeezing the sides enough so that he could force your head out of the pillow. “Look at me when you come, pretty girl.”

When your eyes met his, you were surprised to see that his eyepatch hadn’t been discarded but couldn’t linger on the thought. Not with the way that overwhelming tension had become too much, coiling in your stomach and making you quiver underneath Aemond’s strong body, coming to its peak and snapping with an earth shattering, burning intensity that forced your entire world to go quiet. 

With strained gasps, Aemond’s peak quickly followed yours and he pulled out, surprised to see how swiftly your hand replaced his. You felt the ropes of his hot seed fall onto your stomach, the warmth of his breath against your skin as he buried his face into your neck, heaving as he rode through the strength of his orgasm. 

Strings of curses came from him as he let his body fall to the space beside you. Aemond barely wasted two seconds before pulling you into him so that your head rested against his chest as he held you against him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, letting yourself melt into him, too spent to spare a thought for the mess on your stomach. “But I doubt I’ll be feeling so great tomorrow.”

A deep chuckle vibrated against your ear. “I’d apologise but I’m afraid I wouldn’t mean it.”

“Cheeky.”

Aemond took a hold of your wrist when you slapped his chest gently, bringing your hand up to place a kiss on your knuckles before letting his hand fall to that spot on your hip. “I wasn’t lying you know.”

“About?” You raised an eyebrow, craning your neck so that you could see his face without moving away from him. 

“I will take you out.” Aemond grinned, squeezing your flesh playfully. “And I will fuck you in every single one of my t-shirts.”

[pforestsims]

✨🎁Sparkle Sparkle✨

Clothing recolors with shiny patterns require Extended SimStandardMaterial by @crispsandkerosene

⭐recolors of Platasp 4t2 Sentate Messina dress AF

based on snake skin texture by @sentate , plus mesh edit with my classic pumps /optional/ . Polycount: 4679. S4 original is here. /Dress conversion by @platinumaspiration came with lots of nice 4t2 recolors btw/.

⭐Hourglass Dress Separated AF plus recolors

& Hourglass Dress Short Classic Pumps AF (repo)

New meshes based on my shape edit of Celebrations SP wedding gown, with dress subset separate from skin - in 8 glittery shades. Polycount: 2049 & 2500.

⭐recolors of 4t2 Nell Disheveled Suit conv. by @kurimas

plus my mesh edit - minor fixes and TS2 'block' hands & added "fat" morph. Polycount: 6078. S4 original by @nell-le is here .

Download all: SFS | BOX

/updated 24.12.2024 - fixed morphs in HourglassDressSeparated/

And a little bonus:

⭐Sparkler accessory default

Download: SFS | BOX

This will replace original chunky mesh with the same one but made much thinner, and two textures used for spark effects with larger ones (48x384 px).

✨ ✨ ✨

I wish Everybody a Happy New Year!

✨ ✨ ✨

Recolor swatches and my notes on adding envcube masks to clothing under the cut:

*This is for The Sims 2

Recolor number 00 in each set contains envcube mask and is required by other recolors.

Metallic Messina dress recolors all use one envcube mask texture and one grey clothing texture, colors are added with TXMT settings only.

Same with dark shades of Disheveled suit - four recolors, only two textures.

Hourglass Dress Short mesh contains two shoe textures: black and beige, I've also included TXMT setting files ready to be imported into recolors, so you can easily swap those if you wish.

BTW I also included TXMT settings that you can merge with 4t2 Messina recolors converted by Platasp. This will add a snakeskin envcube/mask (from my recolor).

When adding shine to custom clothing, remember that shiny subset has to be separate from skin and that TXMT Type (cMaterialDefinition tab) has to be set to SimStandardMaterial !

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Notes on recolouring clothes with envcubemask:

SimPe is required.

Here's a tutorial on adding shine to clothes - but the quickest way is to simply import TXMT settings with shine and mask from recolor that already has those, and edit texture names (& cMaterialDefinition TXMT type, if it's set to SimSkin).

Bodyshop breaks envcube masks - when you make a new recolor of shiny outfit it will turn the mask to transparent DXT3

borked texture has to be replaced with ExtRaw8bit texture, or you can remove it and link TXMT to envcube mask texture name from another package (stdMatEnvCubeMaskTextureName line). I recommend removing custom envcube texture that Bodyshop creates and using TS2 envcube (stdMatEnvCubeTextureName line).

I find that reflectionsilver-envcube is the best for neutral and colorized shiny patterns on clothing, unless you want bright gold shine - then reflectiongold-envcube works best, with stdMatEnvCubeCoef set to pure white.

Envcubes often used for objects, like reflectionsparking-envcube, will look quite mirror-y and dark in envcube blend mode.

stdMatEnvCubeMode: blend mode works best for medium / dark textures, while diffuseRadiance mode works best for light clothing textures. There's also standard Reflection mode, which is quite subtle, probably best if you'd like to make patches of clothing look like satin or plastic.

To achieve nice glitter / sparkle effect, Envcube mask has to be crisp, high contrast, black and white. Make sure you have 100% black on parts that are not supposed to be shiny.

stdMatEnvCubeCoef line is the reflection color / brightness. Envcubes have their own colors already, so your reflection color settings will be affected by it. Reflectionsilver-envcube texture is neutral with greyish-blue shadows, no dark spots.

Reflection with mask can be previewed in Bodyshop. Have in mind that reflections look quite bright when camera is in front of a Sim, but when you open the game and look at the same outfit at an angle, it won't be as bright. /Also - unlike shiny object recolors, these don't become extra shiny outdoors./

In this vid you can see reflectionkitchenhighcontrast-envcube used for silver dress - looked great but when I put that dress on my Sim, and looked at it from above, reflections were barely visible.

[secretl1fe0fm3]

maroon ~ billie eilish x fem!reader

“the burgundy on my t-shirt when you splashed your wine into me, and how the blood rushed into my cheeks so scarlet, it was maroon.”

warnings: smut, oral, fingering, strap (r!receiving), dirty talk, dom!billie, sub!reader, alcohol consumption (both reader and billie are of age)

18+ minors dni!!!

2k words

part two

Your head leans on the car window as you watch the lights from the city shimmer on the wet pavement, leaving a glow illuminating the streets. You sigh lightly as your phone lit up in your lap, glancing down you noticed your friend had texted you, asking if you were on your way yet. Typing away a quick response to confirm her question, you set your phone back down.

You were currently in the back of a cab, on the way to an event at a high end bar your friend had invited you to, as her plus one. She didn't really give you many details, other than the fact that it was formal. Per her request, you chose to wear a short tight white satin slip dress, adorned with lace trimming. You paired it with your favorite red heels, and gold accessories. It definitely wasn't an outfit in your comfort zone, but your friend had mentioned some celebrities had been invited. You wanted to look your best, not knowing who you could possibly run into.

As your car pulls up, nerves suddenly flood your head, unsure if this was truly a good idea or not. There were some photographers standing in front of the building, looking like they were waiting for someone specific to show. Glancing away from them, you look up and see your friend standing next to the doors, waving at you. A smile fell over your lips, relieved to see her waiting for your arrival. You step out of the car, thanking your driver briefly before walking over to her.

She squeals excitedly as she pulls you into a tight hug, "Its so good to see you!" You grin as you hugged her back, realizing how long it had been since you've seen her last.

"Thank you so much for inviting me, Ive never been to one of these private events before." You laugh out nervously, playing with the rings on your fingers. She smiles at you, laughing with you, noting your nerves.

"Of course! You're going to have so much fun, I promise you. Cmon, let's go inside." She grabs your hand, leading you inside. As soon as she opened the door, the deafening sound of music and loud conversations filled your ears. You followed closely behind her as she pulled you through the crowd, heading straight for the bar. She ordered the both of you a glass of red wine. As you waited with her, you glance around, noticing some familiar faces that you've seen before.

"Here you go!" Your friend hands you your glass, breaking you out of your daze. You take the glass from her, taking a sip quickly, hoping to gain some liquid courage soon. You felt out of place, not knowing what to do as you glance around, watching everyone converse.

She nudges you, and you focus your eyes back on hers. "Lets go sit somewhere and catch up, yeah?" Before you can even respond, she pulls you over to a dark lit booth in the corner of the room. You both sit down and continue to sip on your wine, sharing stories of childhood memories, and years of friendship.

An hour passes, and you and your friend are both flushed pink, now on your third glass of wine together. You continue to laugh obnoxiously with her, until you realize your glass is almost empty. Giggling, you excuse yourself, and grab your glass of wine, heading in the direction of the bar.

You look back at your friend and smile to yourself, not paying attention to where you're walking, immediately bumping into someone. Your feet falter as your wine glass gets pushed towards your chest, ultimately staining the upper half of your white dress a deep burgundy color. "Fuck-" You curse loudly, not realizing who you even ran into in the commotion. Glancing up, your green eyes meet ocean blue, the words dying on your tongue.

"Oh shit, Im sorry! I didn't even see you." The woman rushes out as you gape at her. You couldn't even begin to be convinced that Billie Eilish was standing in front of you, her eyes full of concern. "Oh my god, your dress, Im so sorry." Billie says apologetically as she grabs onto your arm gently.

Your cheeks flush a deep scarlet color, similar to the unfortunate color now adorning your white dress. You lose the ability to speak at first, unsure if your tipsy state is making you hallucinate. Her eyes stare into yours until you finally find the words.

"Its okay, I wasn't even paying attention to where I was going." You breathe out, reassuring her. Your heart rate seemed to be going a mile a minute. Looking down at your dress, you sigh softly to yourself, realizing the stain is worse than you thought. Billie's grip falls from your arm, noticing your disappointed expression. She continues to look at you, biting her lip, until a smile falls on her face.

"Here," She quickly shrugs off her suit jacket, holding it out to you. "Take this, please."

You hesitantly take the jacket out of her hands, staring at her with furrowed brows. "Are you sure? It's not that bad, really, I'll probably be leaving soon anyways."

Billie shakes her head, dismissing your comment. "It's the least I can do. Plus, I feel awful for ruining your pretty dress." She cracks a smile, her eyes glancing up and down your body quickly before returning to yours.

"Thank you." You smile back at her, your cheeks heating up again. You put her jacket on, making sure to cover the stain. Her grin gets impossibly bigger at the sight of you in her jacket.

"I'm Billie, by the way." She added quickly, and you let out a small laugh, exchanging your name with her as well. Billie grinned at you, her eyes studying you.

You didn't know why, but you felt nervous under her gaze. "Thank you again, I should really get going though." You rushed out, glancing back at your friend, then back at Billie. She takes note of your nervousness and smirks.

"Let me at least get you a new glass, yeah?" She offers, motioning towards your now empty glass. Your cheeks flush an even deeper color.

Nodding, you follow her as she makes her way towards the bar, ordering you a new glass of wine. You stand beside her, silently admiring her features. She’s wearing a white button down with a black tie, and baggy black jeans.

Before you know it, a new glass of wine is shoved into your hands. “Wanna go sit and chat for a bit?” She asked, grabbing herself a glass as well, looking you up and down.

You glance back at your friend, noticing she wasn’t in the booth anymore, not sure of where she went. Looking back at Billie, you nod. “Yeah sure, I’d love that.” Billie grins at your response and grabs onto your hand gently, pulling you towards a dimly lit corner.

“You look great in my jacket, by the way.” She added, as you both sat down at a small table. You sip on your wine, trying to hide the blush forming on your cheeks.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.” You joke, licking the wine off your lips, setting your glass down. Billie lets out a laugh, her eyes twinkling in the soft ambient lighting.

“And would that be a bad thing?” Billie questions, sitting back in her chair. Her legs spreading slightly, eyes flicking up to yours then down to your lips.

The familiar shade of crimson spreads across your face. You couldn’t tell if it was your lowered inhibitions from the wine, but the way she was holding your gaze made a heat start to form in your lower stomach. Biting your lip, you down the rest of your wine. As you finish, you noticed shes only taken a few sips of hers. Her eyes are still trained on you, watching you intently.

You both continue to stare at each other, your eyes speaking what you are too afraid to say. She takes notice and smirks. “Let’s get out of here, yeah? You can come back to mine?” She reaches out for your hand, rubbing small circles on it with her thumb. You nod quickly, biting your lip even harder.

She smiles at your swift agreement, standing up with you. Billie wraps her arm around your back, her hand landing on your waist, guiding you out of the bar. You both exit through the back door, and get into her car quickly, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention.

Sitting in her passenger seat, you shoot your friend a quick text, thanking her for inviting you. Deciding to make an excuse, you add on that you decided to uber home because you didn’t feel well. Setting your phone down, you glance over at Billie. She smiles at you and pulls out of the dimly lit parking lot, resting her hand on your thigh.

The drive seemed much longer than it actually was. The warmth between your legs spread as she gripped onto your thigh, her rings shining under the street lamps. You needed her now, and you couldn’t deny it any longer.

She pulls up to her house, putting her car in park. You both stepped out and walked up to her front door. You gripped onto her arm as she turned the key to unlock it, pushing open the door. She stepped in, opening the door for you.

Before you could process her locking the door, she pushed you gently up against the wall, her breath slightly ragged.

“God, you’re so fucking hot.” Billie whispers, her eyes falling onto your lips, closing the gap between your bodies. Her lips crash into yours, kissing you with pure desperation and fever. Your lips mold with hers, hands falling onto her shoulders, pulling her closer.

You can feel her knee move in between your legs, her hands roaming your body. You throw your head back and whine at the sudden sensation, grinding down on her leg softly.

“Fuck, thats it baby, use me to get off, yeah?” She grunts out, her lips moving to your exposed neck, sucking and biting gently.

Letting out an even louder whine than before, you continue to move your hips against her leg. “Billie, please..” You whimper out as her mouth attacks your neck.

She pulls away momentarily, grabbing onto your wrist and pulling you towards her room. You stumble after her, grinning and biting your lip. Excited to finally be getting what you secretly wanted the whole night.

You both make your way into her room, shutting the door behind yourselves. Billie locks it, walking back over to you. “This is okay with you, right?” She breathes out, her lips red and wet, walking you closer to her bed. The back of your knees hit the bed and you sit down, staring up at her with big eyes.

You grab onto her tie, pulling her body onto yours. “Please..” You plead softly, nodding, as she crawls on top of you. That was the green light she had been waiting for.

Smirking, she trailed kisses down your chest. Her hands roamed under your dress, pushing it up to expose your red lace thong. She grinned as she noticed the wet spot on your underwear.

“That affected by me, huh? You’re so wet for me baby. Such a good girl.” She praises you, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss right below your belly button. Her hands grazing against your wet heat.

You buck your hips up at the minimal contact, throwing your head back against her bed. She pushes your hips back down against the bed, slowly pulling your underwear down and off. Billie tosses them to the side and climbs off of you briefly, undressing everything but her button up and tie. She helps you out of her jacket and your dress, admiring your naked body. Her pupils blown wide.

You sit up slightly, resting back on your elbows, watching her. She moves to her dresser, opening the drawer. You watch her as she pulls out a purple strap, your legs instinctively clenching together.

Billie makes her way back over to the bed, “Want me to fuck you pretty girl? Hm?”

You nod absentmindedly, the heat in your stomach growing even more. Billie grabs onto your hips, pulling you closer to her. She leans down and attaches her lips onto your clit, sucking. You let out a loud moan, gripping onto her sheets.

She continues to suck and lap at your wet heat, burying her face into your cunt. She brought up a finger, slowly circling the tight muscle.

“God, you’re so fucking tight.” Billie mumbles against you, her finger sliding in next to her tongue. You gasp out, your back arching off the bed.

She adds another finger as she feels you relax around her first one, pumping in and out at a steady pace. Her eyes watching you as you writhe in pleasure.

“Look at me.” She curls her fingers perfectly, hitting your sweet spot. Your eyes flutter shut before opening again, looking down at her.

“Good girl.” Billie praises as your eyes meet hers. She pulls her fingers out slowly, spreading your wetness onto her strap. Climbing on top of you, she positions herself at your entrance.

You bite your lip, moaning softly, “Please fuck me Billie, I need you so bad.” You grab onto her tie again, wrapping it around your hand, pulling her impossibly close.

She smirks, “Whatever you want, pretty girl.” She thrusts forward, her strap entering you in one quick motion. You let out an obscenely loud whine, yanking on her tie.

She fucks into you fast, watching your face as you throw your head back in pleasure again. “Taking me so fucking well baby.” She whispers out, as her free hand finds your clit, rubbing small, fast circles.

You moan loudly, feeling her strap hit all the right places. Her thrusts never falter, continuously fucking into you. Your eyes squeeze shut, overwhelmed with pure lust and pleasure.

“Fuck, feels so g-good..” You stutter out, unable to form a coherent sentence. She grins down at you, her thrusts getting even quicker.

“Open your mouth.” Billie demanded, and you instinctively opened your mouth. She smirked at your obedience, spitting directly onto your tongue. Her hand left your clit, moving her fingers towards your mouth, pushing her pointer finger inside against your tongue.

“Next time, you’re gonna use this pretty mouth to eat me out, yeah?” She continues to thrust in and out of your cunt at a rapid pace. Her breathing was heavy, quiet grunts falling off her lips. You nodded, sucking on her finger gently, swallowing around it. You felt a heat building up inside you, your own climax quickly approaching.

Her hips faltered slightly, the strap rubbing up against her own clit with each thrust. Gripping onto her tie still, you let out a loud moan, “Fuck, Im gonna come.” You mumble out around her finger.

“Thats it, come for me, come all over my dick baby.” She begs breathlessly. You let out a final high pitched whine as your back arches off the bed. You clench down around her, gasping out as you ride out your orgasm.

Billie watches you come undone underneath her, her own orgasm washing over her quickly. She grunts out as she grips onto your hips, slowing down her thrusts.

You both pant together as you lay there, her strap still inside of you. She falls on top of your body gently, looking into your eyes. Billie smiles down at you, a blissed out expression on her face. A blush creeps onto your cheeks again, the dark maroon color returning for the final time that evening.

my masterlist

requests are open! <3

[harmonyrae]

Let You Make Me Juno

Synopsis: There’s a song you just can’t get out of your head. You just wanted to dance and sing along every time it came on. Which is exactly what you do and the boys have a very intense reaction to some of the lyrics.

AN: I hadn’t heard Juno by Sabrina Carpenter in its entirety until literally yesterday and I’ve been on a writing kick so… This happened. Smile. ENJOY!

Content Warnings: Heavy on the innuendos, also heavy on the implied activities, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, breeding kink (if you squint), the boys are shook & horny, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 3.1k

Whatever report Zayne is working on must be a hefty one, he’s been consistently typing for nearly an hour. You circle behind him and top off his coffee. He doesn’t look up, but hums as you pour - a silent thank you. You head back into the kitchen and continue making breakfast. 

It was rare that Zayne didn’t have to head to work early and the Association had given all Hunters a long weekend to celebrate the previous month. Only two injuries and no major incidents. You had both slept in and you were making pancakes. Usually Zayne would lecture you about “making sure you got protein and complex carbs” to start your day, but you promised to make chocolate chip pancakes and he stopped arguing. His sweet tooth won over in the end. 

You continue mixing the batter, swaying your hips to your playlist. Your “feel good” playlist, it always made you want to dance. You hum along while you wait for the pan to heat up. That’s when you hear the beginning notes of the song you’re obsessed with. 

“Zayne! Can you turn the music up?”

You look over your shoulder to see him nod, never taking his eyes off the screen. The music swells through the bluetooth speakers and you start bouncing in excitement. You immediately start singing along.

Don't have to tell your hot ass a thing Oh yeah, you just get it 

Finally, Zayne peels his eyes away from his report. He didn’t get a chance to write up the surgery debrief after getting home last night. He intended to stay up to finish it, but when he got home you were dressed in the black nightgown that drove him crazy. He spent his night doing something equally as important, but now he was rushing to get it completed. But when you started singing, he immediately took notice.

You usually didn’t sing out loud, preferring to hum along. And the way you bounced back and forth, your hips swaying seductively, was very distracting. You wore your satin sleep shorts and his dress shirt buttoned halfway, just a hint of your delicious cleavage peeking over the collar. Zayne straightens his back and tries to refocus.

Whole package, babe, I like the way you fit God bless your dad's genetics, mm, uh

He blinks rapidly before taking his glasses off to rub his eyes. He turns to look at you fully. Watching you dance and stir the pancake batter. You turn to look over at him, not expecting to see him looking at you. You see the tips of his ears have turned red and you giggle, continuing your dance while maintaining eye contact with him. 

You make me wanna make you fall in love Oh, late at night, I'm thinkin' 'bout you, ah, ah-ah Wanna try on my fuzzy pink handcuffs?

Zayne’s eyes widen and you can’t help but let out a loud laugh. The blush spread across his cheeks and down his neck. You set down the bowl and approach him, singing and dancing along the way. 

I know you want my touch for life If you love me right, then who knows? I might let you make me Juno

He finally stands, placing his hands on your hips. He doesn’t stop you from dancing, just holds you and feels you sway. You spot a smile creeping onto his face. You reach up and hold onto his shoulders. He leans down and starts placing open mouth kisses to the exposed skin of your chest. You close your eyes and feel his warm breath on your ear as he whispers.

“Isn’t ‘Juno’ that movie we watched a few weeks ago?”

You hum in agreement and Zayne doesn’t hesitate to pick you up, moving your legs to wrap around him. He squeezes your ass before he trails a hand under the back of your shirt. You shiver at his touch and cling to him. He turns and walks into the kitchen to turn off the stove.

“Don’t you want pancakes?”

Zayne smiles and his eyes sparkle with something you rarely see when you’re with him. 

“Oh, I’m still having cake for breakfast.”

How did you get roped into this? Tara is so damn persuasive. Or maybe you’ve had a few too many drinks? The little umbrellas make them seem so harmless though…

Xavier had tried to intercept and make sure you didn’t feel forced. But after Tara whispered what song she had picked for karaoke you were completely on board. Plus, you didn’t wear your favorite dress and heels for nothing. 

The fitted baby blue dress hugged your curves, but the tiered ruffles on the skirt made you feel like a ballerina when you twirled. The square neckline flattering your defined collarbone, while hiding a hickey on your shoulder. You tapped your sparkly heels along with your favorite song. Tara and you harmonized seamlessly.

Let you lock me down tonight One of me is cute, but two, though? Give it to me, baby You make me wanna make you fall in love

Xavier had been checked out for most of the night, he was just happy to spend time with you. And the other hunters he worked with - since this was a Hunter’s Appreciation party. But getting to watch you dress up and hold you close while dancing in the dimly lit club, yeah, that made the socializing worth it. 

His brain had finally registered the lyrics and he almost choked on his drink. He coughed quietly and looked up at you. Your cheeks flushed from the alcohol, your tits bouncing while you dance with Tara. He tries to keep his eyes locked on yours, but his eyes can’t help but wander. Two? Imagining a miniature version of you made Xavier’s heart pound against his ribcage.

I showed my friends, then we high-fived  Sorry if you feel objectified 

Xavier’s eyes widened and he nearly dropped his drink. He sets it down on the bar with a shaky hand. He tilts his head at you, as if asking what exactly did you show. He shook his head, surely not. It was just a song. But then again, you could “show” and he knew that. 

Xavier never asked you to send him nudes, but you were so easily turned on by him you spent weeks trying to figure out a way to level the playing field. Sure enough, sending him a picture from the shower did the trick. Of course, he matched your energy and offered to send his own. Which you didn’t reject. He definitely didn’t hold back after that. You’d send pictures and videos back and forth regularly. You could absolutely show Tara and you had zero doubts she would, indeed, high-five you.

Can't help myself, hormones are high Give me more than just some butterflies

You surprised yourself with how well you hit each note, your confidence growing. Your slightly hooded eyes stay locked on Xavier the whole song. You could feel the tension in the room grow. The hunger in Xavier’s eyes was evident. You watched as he slowly made his way to the side of the stage where you eventually climbed down.

Jeremiah was standing next to him, his cheeks flushed. Tara begged Xavier to invite him and after the performance - both you and Xavier finally figured out why. She launched herself into his arms, giggling. His whispered praises were almost lost in the club's noise. Xavier grabbed your waist and pulled you to him immediately. He leaned over to Jeremiah and whispered something before pulling you towards the exit. 

“Xavier! What about –”

“They’ll get a cab, we’re leaving.”

His tone was firm and his expression calm. You were almost concerned he was angry with you. Once outside, you expected to stop at the edge of the sidewalk to hail a cab, but Xavier took a sharp turn, heading into an alley behind the club.

“What are we –”

You couldn’t even finish speaking before Xavier’s lips captured yours. His hand reaches down to pull up your dress, his fingers swiftly pulling your panties aside to press against your clit. He presses you against the wall and his kiss turns frantic. You barely have a moment to moan, you breathe heavily, your hands wrapping around him and taking fistfuls of his sweater. 

Right as your legs start to shake, he pulls back and presses his forehead against yours.

“I need to get you home for this conversation.”

You scrunch your nose and look at him, confused. He nips at your bottom lip pulling another breathy moan from you.

“You are definitely cute, but two? That’d be exquisite.”

“No no no, higher!”

You pointed at the couch, urging Rafayel to get in the right spot to start recording. He huffed and crossed his arms.

“What about my artistic vision? Just because it’s a TikTok doesn’t mean it should look like shit. Let me work my magic!”

You put your hands on your hips and let him adjust the brightness of the overhead lights and try out different angles. You smile, knowing exactly what you’re up to. He’ll feel silly in about 15 minutes. 

You run a hand over your shorts and matching cropped hoodie, smoothing out the wrinkles from practicing. The pink color almost matches the blush on your cheeks - which was not just from practicing. You might be a bit nervous. 

You tighten your ponytail and press your lips, nibbling the corner of your mouth as you tap your foot impatiently. Rafayel finally looks up at you and rolls his eyes. 

“Sorry cutie, I know your best angles and it’ll be worth the wait.” 

He finally climbs up on the couch and looks at you through your phone. His brows knit together. He’s just now realizing you were right about where he needed to stand. You giggle while he puffs out a breath, his dusty purple fringe fluttering upwards. 

“Okay, are you ready?”

You nod enthusiastically before hopping over to your starting spot. 

“So you know what to do, right?”

“Why are you asking me that? Of course I know! I’m not a boomer.” 

You roll your eyes and grab your hairbrush, the best option you had for a makeshift microphone. You could have asked Rafayel to get you a real one but you didn’t want to ask him to put too much effort into this little video. A video you didn’t really plan on posting. 

Rafayel holds up three fingers and counts down before pointing at you. You smile and sway your hips, lip syncing to your latest obsession.

You make me wanna make you fall in love Oh, late at night, I'm thinkin' 'bout you, ah, ah-ah Wanna try out some freaky positions?

You swiftly lie down on your stomach and bend your knees, pulling your ankles up as close to your head as possible. You reach back and lock your fingers behind your ankles. You look at the camera and smile with a flush.

Have you ever tried this one?

Rafayel almost drops your phone. He ends the recording and stares at you. His ears turned bright red and his eyes darken, turning an even deeper shade of purple. 

“I didn’t realize you were doing this trend…”

You roll over and cross your legs in front of you, resting your hands on your knees. You raise a brow and glare at him. 

“How many videos of this trend have you watched, Rafayel?”

His eyes widen and he coughs, straightening his back before hopping off the couch in one swift motion. He crosses his arms and looks down at you, his mouth settled into that adorably irritating pout. 

“I just know of the trend, not -- I don’t watch them like –”

You interrupt him, your voice a tad more raspy than you intended.

“Do you think the position isn’t worth it?”

The blush travels across his cheeks and he twists his nose, trying his best to look upset.

“That’s not what I said.” 

“Cause I have a few I could try. You know… for the video.”

Rafayel’s eyes narrow and his eyes drop to your exposed midriff and bare legs. He clears his throat and drops his hands to his hips before turning to walk away. You exhale sharply - he’s being dense. Time to be more direct. 

“Like this one?”

He turns his head and watches you shift to face him. You lie back and kick your legs up. Your shoulders remain planted on the floor while your midsection is straight up, your hands planted on your back, your elbows braced against the floor to hold you up. Your legs tip over and your toes touch the floor. You keep your legs straight and spread them as wide as you are comfortable. Your shorts sink into your ass, the curve and shape now on full display. 

You hear a sharp intake of breath and a shuffling of feet. You try to lower to the ground once more, but feel his hands on the backs of your thighs. When you look up you see Rafayel lean over to look down at you.

“Did you really do this trend for the trend, or did you have other intentions?”

You smile up at him, your smug expression clear as day. He runs his hands over your ass and places his hands at either side of your nearly exposed pussy. You gasp quietly. 

“Yeah, you’re not uploading that video, but we are definitely trying these positions.”

He runs his thumbs across your center. You know he can feel how wet you are, doing those positions in front of him - positions you’ve desperately wanted to try with him - really got you going. He grinds against you, his cock digging into your ass, pulling a moan from you.

“Right fucking now.”

You didn’t even hear the front door to your apartment open, your music was turned up way too loud. And you were enjoying the mini concert you were putting on in the bathroom. 

You held the curling iron loosely and rocked your hips side to side. You could never stop yourself from dancing and singing along to this song. You were so excited when Tara told you she got tickets for Sabrina’s concert next month. You were listening to all of her albums on repeat to prepare. 

But tonight, you were going out with Sylus for a very special occasion - your one year anniversary. Well, it’s been over a year since you met him, but you both agreed not to celebrate when you actually met because it wasn’t exactly the best memory. 

Sylus gave you his black card to get pampered all day while he worked and you made the most of it. Getting your nails done, a facial, shopping and basically a full body wax. You spent extra time on your makeup since you had a few new products to try out. Your new red lipstick compliments your skin tone perfectly, its staying power would be tested later. 

The dress you picked was relatively simple, but god, did you feel sexy. The black bodice was fitted, hitting mid-thigh. The chest was very structured and pushed your girls up, giving the illusion of more cleavage than you actually had. Your favorite part though, were the sleeves. Black lace from shoulder to fingertip, the bell sleeves almost completely covering your hands. You paired the dress with new red pumps, which were still in the box on your bed.

Your hair was actually curling nicely and wasn’t falling flat immediately, so you felt on top of the world. You danced and sang at the top of your lungs. 

You had no idea, Sylus had already let himself into your apartment. A bouquet of red roses in his hand and a mechanical crow with glowing yellow eyes sitting on his shoulder. Sylus couldn’t wait to introduce you to Lilith. He had built her himself specifically for you. He knew it would only mean you’d send her to spy on him like he had Mephisto spy on you, but he could tell how much you started to love seeing his little metal companion. 

He heard the music immediately when he walked in. He closed the door quietly and dropped his suit jacket on the arm of the couch. He pointed to his jacket and Lilith flew over, settling on the fabric. He put the flowers on the coffee table and silently made his way to the door of your bathroom. A smile breaking out across his face as he realized you were singing. 

Adore me, hold me, and explore me Mark your territory Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one

His heart skipped a beat. Not only was your voice hypnotizing, but the lyrics… He had heard this song before, but couldn’t remember where. Probably on one of your drives with him, he tended to give you control of the music while he drove. It meant you were more likely to sing. He leaned against the doorframe just out of view. He could see you in the mirror, swaying your hips while you wrapped a strand of hair around the curling iron.

Adore me, hold me, and explore me I'm so fuckin' horny Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one

And that’s when Sylus’s willpower broke. He pushed the bathroom door open, still leaning against the door frame. He racked his eyes down your body, taking in your new dress.

“Sylus! Oh my god, you fucking scared me! When did you get here?”

Sylus lifted his gaze to meet yours. He smirked before reaching up to grab the door frame above him. He looked so much taller like this, staring at you with those eyes. 

“I was just enjoying the show, kitten.”

You put down the curling iron and turned it off. You fluffed your hair, letting the curls fall into loose waves. You tried not to stare at Sylus in the mirror. The top buttons of his shirt were undone and you could see his chest rising and falling faster and faster.

“I like the song. I am curious though… When you sing along, do you think of anyone?”

Your cheeks flush and you stare at him. You bite your lip as you smile. He lets go of the doorframe and pushes off to walk towards you. His hands wrap around your waist and he pulls you close. Your back flush against his chest, you could feel his erection press against your ass. 

“You know the answer to that question, Sy…” 

He smiled and leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“Well, I’d say I’ve completed adoring and holding you, that just leaves exploring.”

“Sylus! We –”

He spins you around and grabs your waist. He leans down to kiss your neck, before dipping down to bite at the fullness of your chest. You arch your back and let your head fall back as you groan. Your hands reach out to hold onto his waist, while his wrap around to grab your ass.

“But you’re so fuckin' horny, sweetie. And I live to serve my one and only.”

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!): @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22

[sheaabuttaababyy]

Help me out

Josh x Nina

Based on this ask , you can read my other fics here

"I can’t even see it babe"

Nina shuffled out of the bathroom in a satin robe, her bare feet padding softly across the hardwood floor. Her hand resting against her round belly, rubbing over it where their baby boy Kairo was moving inside her slightly. 8 months in and she was glowing—moody, sore, horny and exhausted—but glowing nonetheless.

Josh was sprawled out on the bed, shirtless in black sweat-shorts, scrolling through his instagram until he caught sight of her.

"Hey baby" he grinned, tossing his phone to the side like it was never important. "How you feelin mama?" Kissing her cheek as she plopped down next to him.

Nina let out a dramatic sigh at his question. "Like I swallowed a watermelon and now it’s breakdancing In my uterus.

He chuckled, grabbing her hand placing a kiss to the back of it. "You still looking fine as hell, though"

She rolled her eyes playfully, cheeks warming up at the compliment. "Don’t gas me up"

"Nah, I mean it. You pregnant, and still the finest woman on earth"

Nina smiled softly, but then bit her lip. She hesitated for a second, wiggling a little uncomfortably before blurting out. "Ok, so… I need to ask you for something. And don’t laugh."

Josh straightened up, becoming serious. "You good? You need somethin?"

She gave a dramatic huff and glanced down at her belly, then back at him. "I need to shave…down there"

He raised his eyebrows slightly, but the corners of his mouth started twitching with amusement

Nina held her hand up to his face. "No listen. I tried. I really did. But my belly’s so big I can’t see a damn thing, and I’m not about to blindly run a razor over my coochie"

Josh burst out laughing, falling back on the bed. "Yo, the way you said that—"

"I knew you’d laugh!" She groaned, grabbing a pillow chucking it at his face, muffling his laugh.

He took the pillow off his face, grinning. "Nah, nah come here." Leaning her into his chest. "So whatchu tryna say? You want me to do it?"

She covered her face with both hands. "Babee… I don’t even know what it looks like down there right now. It could look like a whole rainforest for all I know. I know for a fact it’s giving jungle. Like, I’m so serious."

Jey shut his eyes trying to contain his laughter, before opening them again. He sat up again, cupping her face and pulling her hands away. "Look at me, Nini"

She peeked at him through her fingers, pouting.

"I don’t care what it looks like. Pregnant, bloated, bushy— whatever. You still the finest woman I ever seen. And that’s my shit, so I’m always gonna think it’s beautiful"

Then he smirked, licking his lips. "And mama… I literally still eat it when it looks like bob Ross. I’m a grown ass man, I don’t give a damn."

Her face dropped, face heating up instantly as she cackled. "Joshua! What the fuck?"

"What? You actin like that’s not facts." He said, laughing "that pussy too good for me to care about a little hair."

Her stomach fluttered and it wasn’t just Kairo this time.

"So…" he added voice low and smooth. "You want me to line you up real quick? I can give you a whole fade, taper designs, if you want."

Nina cracked up, hiding her face again. "Stop, joshh"

"Nah for real. Lemme take care of you, I got you"

After a few minutes of playful teasing, she gave in. "Fine but you better be gentle. One wrong move and I swear Ima tell our son his daddy scarred me for life."

"Bet, you gonna be smooth as hell by the time I’m done" 

He set everything up with care. A fresh razor, shaving cream, a bowl of water, a towel and a little handheld mirror—though She flat out refused to look.

Nina laid back on the bed under a large towel, her legs apart. Her eyes went wide as he knelt between her thighs with a smirk, his hands soft and carful

"I feel so exposed" she mumbled, biting her lip as she stared at the ceiling. He massaged her thigh gently. "You actin like I ain’t been all up in this already"

"That’s different. This feels…medical"

He laughed under his breath and leaned up to kiss her belly. "You trust me?"

She nodded her head. "Of course"

"Then let me take care of my girl"

He lathered her vagina with warm shaving cream, his fingers moving along her gently, spreading it slowly that she couldn’t help but squirm a little. His fingers trailed with extra softness, teasing her just slightly.

"See, this ain’t bad right?"

She let out a breathy laugh. "You being way too good at this. Too well behaved. What you tryna prove?"

He smirked, glancing up at her. "That I can handle parts of you. Even the ones you think are too much."

Her breath hitched. There was something about the way he said it. Like this was more than just shaving her. Like this was love at its unfiltered form.

Every stroke of the razor was gentle, his free hand steadying her with a feather-light touch. He was slow, purely focused on, making sure not to cut her. But somehow he made it feel intimate. His hands moving as if he were painting her, learning her again— even though he already knew her inside and out.

"You’re really doing it, huh…" she whispered half in disbelief, half in awe.

"Mhmm" he hummed, voice a little deeper now. "Might need to inspect the area a little closer, though…"

"Joshua!"

He laughed and looked up with that mischievous grin. "I’m just sayin. This view got me feeling some type of way, I can’t even lie."

She rolled her eyes, but the heat rising in her cheeks betrayed her. "Boy, I look like a ballon animal right now. Ain’t nobody tryna be sexy"

"You are sexy, Nina" he said seriously, wiping her clean with a warm wet towel, when he finished. "You carrying my son, glowing bright as hell, legs spread, trustin me with a blade near your glistening coochie—how is that not sexy?"

She blinked at him, the combination of love, lust and laughter bubbling in her chest. "You’re a damn fool."

"A damn fool in love, though" he said leaning over to kiss her lips, soft at first, then deeper as his hand slid across her belly, down to where she was aching for him.

She hummed again his mouth, fingers brushing his jaw. "Now that it’s nice and smooth, you tryna get a taste?"

He growled, trailing his kisses down her neck. "Say less"

🏷 @charmed-dreamssss @usoinked @mselenalovebug @theusotwinzcom @bloodlineslut @trippinsorrows @catxo @whowrotethenote @uceyliyahh @adoreesun @christinabae @mjonthetrack @4milly @punksyeet @luvrsluxe @luuvprincess

[henrycangelbaby]

Babydaddy!simon marrying you!!!!!

(gang this is 18+ im lowkey sorry im horny and can barley write smut lol)

You and Simon elope. It’s a lot easier than an actual wedding, even if it would be only small. It’s not like you have many people to invite anyway; Simon would die before having his workmates at something so personal, and motherhood had kept you from seeing your friend for a while now (you’re sure they would show up if you asked, but it all seems like too much work pregnant). Not even the kids come; the eldest has some idea of what is going on but not enough to care that they are being left out of something very important. The others don’t care, happy and content to sit staring at subtitles all day rather than being dragged to a marriage ceremony. 

Simon gets a sitter for them; desperate to prove his worthiness back into your life (even though you are about to marry him), he sets it up and prays it goes off without a hitch. It’s a courthouse wedding; Simon wears a rare button-down top and slacks that you don’t remember ever seeing before (you haven’t he realised that he didn’t have anything remotely nice to get married in and snuck out to get some after work). You wear a sweet satin mini dress; it’s more light blue than white, but neither you nor Simon could pretend to care about that. Simon certainly can’t care, or, for that matter, focus when your legs are on display like that; he feels a certain amount of anger that other people (a geriatric marriage officiant) should get to see the sinful way that your bump is already pressing up against the light blue fabric, breasts popping out to create cleavage that both he and his youngest want a lick at (although for very different reasons). 

It's a quick process; they arrive around midday. It seems to be the best time to get a sitter to cover. The ceremony is basically over before it began. It’s a quick and simple thing; it’s romantic and makes Simon’s heart ache but is over quickly. Both have short vows. Simon promises over and over again that you’ll never be alone again; he apologizes for not being as present as he should and so on and so forth. He slips the ring onto your hand, and just like that, you're happily married, walking back to the car hand in hand. Simon cannot keep his hands off you the second you are both in the car. 

“My pretty little wife,” he murmurs into your neck, pulling you into his lap the second you are both seated, kissing up and down your neck, murmuring in disbelief that you're actually finally his wife. 

He feels like a horny teenager again, his love boner painful as you make out. You don’t let it go further, reminding him that you have a house full of children to get home to. Children who are ecstatic to see you both, they are getting used to seeing Simon around every day, but they certainly aren’t used to not seeing you. The rest of the day goes by as normal, not that Simon feels normal; in fact, he feels unabashedly horny. He has to escape his kids; when you get home, he throws a 

“bathroom” over his shoulder before rushing upstairs. 

He jerks off fast and almost painfully, something so reminiscent of when he is on deployment, hard as hell after receiving a photo from you. The text says, “30-week appointment.” The accompanying image shows you standing in front of a mirror, bra tight over your breasts and belly big and bare, a hand pushed into your back to counter the weight. ‘Fuck,’ he texts back. ‘That’s hot,’ is all he says, already going back in his memories to find a scenario to jerk off to. 

He doesn’t need a scenario today; seeing you all pregnant and pretty wearing his ring—holy fuck, it’s got him going. Going so much that he spills over into the sink, washing away his precious come that he intends to keep you swollen and round with. 

That night after the kids had gone to bed, he fucks you hard, calling you his “pretty little wife” and promising to keep you pregnant over and over again. He groans when you moan; you promise that you're his, his wife to keep barefoot and pregnant till the end of time. 

[sinnerinwonderland]

Laced Intentions.

› Pairing → Jannik Sinner x Female Reader.

› Summary → It was meant for later. He finds it out earlier and likes what he sees.

› Word Count → 0.7k.

The box had arrived like any other — discreet, slightly dented from shipping, and sitting innocently on the kitchen counter of Jannik’s Monte Carlo apartment by late afternoon.

Still groggy from jet lag and a long nap, curls sticking up in clumps and socks mismatched, Jannik wandered into the kitchen to grab something cold from the fridge. That was when he spotted it — her name, his address. Nothing new.

Except this time, the sender caught his eye: Agent Provocateur.

He blinked. Interesting name. Almost dramatic.

Usually, he wouldn’t touch her packages — she had this habit of ordering things and, accidentally or not, sending them to his place instead of hers. Maybe it was subconscious, a way of marking territory, or she just didn’t want her concierge judging her online purchases. He never asked.

But that box? It practically dared him to open it — soft blush pink, tied with a perfectly crisp black satin bow, the brand printed elegantly across the top in sleek lettering.

So he did — and immediately regretted it.

Nestled in tissue paper like a crown jewel was a black lace lingerie set — a dainty bra, matching panties, and a garter belt so delicate it looked spun from shadows, adorned with tiny, girlish baby pink bows at each strap.

Jannik made a strangled sound in the back of his throat.

He had no business staring longer, but couldn’t seem to look away either. One hand reached in, almost against his will, and lifted the panties between two careful fingers, holding them up like he was evaluating some rare artifact.

His brow ticked up slightly — not in disapproval, but in revelation.

Just as he was squinting at the tiny embroidered detail on the back — were those pearls? — she barreled out of the bedroom, barefoot and pulling her hair up into a claw clip.

“Hey, amore, did the box come from– Oh my God...”

She froze like a deer caught in headlights.

There he was — six-foot-whatever, shirtless, standing in the middle of his kitchen holding a pair of her lingerie like it was high-level evidence in a crime thriller. His lips parted like he had something to say, but was still buffering.

“I– Jannik, don’t look at that!” she squawked, rushing forward, mortified.

He held it slightly higher, just out of reach.

“You ordered this to my address?” he asked, voice perfectly even, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

“I– It was an accident! I forgot to change it back from last time, you know that–” she reached for it, flustered. “Give it back, Jannik!”

He stepped back lazily, still inspecting the lace. “It’s... detailed.”

She groaned, covering her face with both hands. “Jannik, please.”

“You were gonna wear this?” he questioned, tone still light, but something had shifted beneath it.

“Not like– right now, I mean– eventually! I didn’t even try it on yet–” She lunged again, finally yanking it from his fingers and shoving it behind her back, like she could undo the whole situation by hiding it.

Her cheeks were on fire, she was practically glowing with embarrassment. “Can you like, forget you saw that?”

“Hard to,” he replied, and then had the audacity to smirk — the one that made her stomach flip unfairly every time he got too confident on court.

“You’ll wear it for me sometime, yeah?”

Her brain short-circuited.

“Excuse me–?” she squeaked.

“What?” he inquired innocently. “You sent it to my place, kind of feels like an invitation.”

She stood there, mouth opening and closing, heart thudding in her chest like a warning bell. There was no way this was happening, not him saying that — not Jannik Sinner, who still got very much flustered whenever she wore a short dress to dinner.

Except now he was grinning. And waiting.

She hated herself a little for how fast she folded.

“...Maybe.” she mumbled, clutching the lingerie to her chest like it could protect her from the heat rising in her cheeks.

“Maybe?” he echoed, leaning in just enough to let his voice brush against her skin. “You sure?”

She gulped. “I’m gonna go die now.”

He laughed once, low and warm in his chest, before disappearing down the hallway. And as he went, she heard him toss over his shoulder, casual as anything, “I’ll leave the bedroom light on.”

God help her. She was so wearing it.