#its like alsjeblieft or something sjfjsfjj

[ssigmas]

quantum entanglement

some sigma/reader smut bc im Thirsty

i headcanon him to be a total service top;;; listen he just wants 2 take care of you

tags: sigma/afab reader, mirror sex, sigma generally being Very Loving and Affectionate

Out of all the requests Siebren could have made of you, this wasn't exactly what you were expecting.His initial embarrassment upon asking, as well as his insistence on discussing it in his quarters, should have been enough clue for you to realize it would be out of the ordinary.

Still, even though it had been a relatively tame request by normal standards, it was definitely encroaching in an area neither of you had breached together before.

You sit astride Siebren's lap, stripped down to nothing, legs hooked over his own spread thighs. The mirror in front of you exposes everything, especially your flushed face, and it makes you feel vulnerable.

Siebren, damn him, remains fully clothed in his casual wear.

You hide your rapidly reddening face behind your hands, squirming in his hold. He had requested specifically that you watch yourself in the mirror, but that...it seems impossible now, a daunting task that you can’t hope to follow through with. “Siebren,” you half-whisper, half-whine, voice quivering on the syllables. You feel his much larger hands engulf yours, lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

“Shh, now now. Don’t hide away, not from me.” He coaxes your hands away from your face, lacing your fingers together. You keep your eyes shut against your inevitable reflection and instead turn to hide your face in his shoulder. 

“I can’t,” you breathe out, and you hate how whiny you sound, but you can’t help it. Embarrassment sits heavy on your bones and causes heat to spread from your chest up to the tips of your ears. “Can’t, Siebren, please…”

He shushes you again. “Of course you can,” he assures you. A hand comes and cups your face, turns it upward so you can meet his lips. The other remains entwined with yours, and slowly he calms your racing thoughts, steadies your heart with languid and loving kisses.

The hand on your cheek drops and instead rests lightly on your neck, thumb against your pulsepoint. Surely, you think, he can feel the way it hammers against your skin, how...affected he makes you.

The hand slides lower, across your clavicles, down your breastbone, and stops at your chest. He pinches a nipple between his fingers and you arch into his touch, breath hitching in your throat. His hand slides from your grasp, joins his other on your chest, and you grab desperately at his muscled bicep.

“Sieb...Sss…ahh…” He teases both of your nipples, rolls them beneath his thumbs. You writhe in his grasp, unable to hold back the soft, choked sounds of pleasure he pulls out of you. 

He sucks your lower lip between his teeth before finally pulling away, though his face remains just inches from your own. “Look at yourself,” he pleads quietly, brushing a kiss to your temple.

Reluctantly, you turn your head forward and open your eyes. For a split second, you can hardly recognize yourself. The you in the mirror looks ruined with your kiss-swollen lips and rosy red cheeks, eyes half-lidded in pleasure. If this was how you looked just kissing him... You turn your head away again, breathing out a whine. “I’m...I’m so -”

“Stunning,” Siebren supplies, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck. You squirm and huff out a laugh.

“Not the word I would have used.”

“No?” He latches onto a patch of skin just below your ear, teeth grazing the skin with promises to come. “Oh, but liefje, you make the most adorable expressions.”

You don’t know how to tell him that that’s the problem, that you can’t take yourself looking so wanton and full of lust, not when Siebren seems to genuinely want you to see yourself as he does.

You feel him gently grip your chin, turning your face back toward the front. “Please,” he murmurs. “I want you to watch as I unravel you in my hands. You look so beautiful when I wreck you.”

God, oh fuck. His voice drips with self-assuredness and desire, dropped down an octave lower than usual, and you feel heat pool in your gut even as a new flush rises to your cheeks. Where had his earlier embarrassment gone? Why can’t you be so collected about this whole thing?

You open your eyes and catch Siebren staring at your reflection. His hands come to rest on either side of your ribcage, and slowly, they ghost lower, down to your hips, thumbs caressing your soft skin. 

“Siebren,” you mumble, struggling to keep your gaze on the mirror. “Siebren, please, I…”

He kisses the side of your head, your cheek, down to your jaw. “Yes?” he questions. He seems almost eager to please you, his hands running up and down your hipbones. “Ask, my dear, and it’s yours.”

Verbalizing what you want is somehow more embarrassing than watching yourself come undone. You roll  your hips into his touch, hoping he’ll catch on, but Siebren does nothing more than continue to stare at you, waiting. Watching.

“Please, I want - I…” You stop, purse your lips. All the phrases that come to mind (finger me, I want you inside me, please make me come) are too dirty for you to say without stuttering through it. “Touch me?” you settle on lamely, it coming out more of a question than a request.

Siebren merely chuckles, though not unkindly. “Oh, mijn sterretje, are we not already touching?” You fight down another bout of embarrassment. You’re touching quite a good deal, in fact. There’s not a part of your body that isn’t entangled with Sigma’s, save for the one spot that’s begging for attention. He seems to take pity on you, however, and a hand descends to your soft mound. He drags his middle finger lightly across your folds, and in the mirror you can see how your slick gathers on his digit and strings between you.

“So wet.” He continues to slowly glide his finger against you, back and forth, teasing. “I’ve barely touched you, and you’re dripping for me.” 

This time, you do close your eyes, giving into the urge to shy away again. “Of course,” you mumble, trying to hide your face against him. “It’s you. Of course I’m so…” You can’t find the words, but evidently you don’t have to, as you feel his hand still against you for a moment. Siebren’s other hand finds your chin again, pulls you a little higher so he can press a soft kiss to your lips. You feel, rather than see, the warmth of his smile.

“How flattering,” he murmurs, “to have such a young thing so affected by me.” His hand resumes its earlier actions, though now it focuses on your clit, drawing tight circles around it. Your hips buck into his touch, a silent gasp leaving your lips. One hand stretches behind you to hook onto Siebren’s neck, and the other desperately searches for something else to hang on to. He beats you to it, interlocking your fingers together as he pulls your arm across your chest. Here, in this position, your back arches high into the stretch, upper half pulled against his shoulders, legs held in place by his own. 

You tuck your head into his neck, inhale the smell of his cologne. There are so many points of contact between you now that you feel utterly surrounded and protected. You feel him breathe a laugh against your cheek. 

“Look at yourself,” he urges softly, and you do. Your eyes are drawn to your pussy, where his fingers are slick with your juices. When he sees you watching, he spreads you open with his fingers, an action so obscene that it causes you to whimper and fruitlessly try to close your legs.

“S-Siebren!”

He either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care about the admonishment, his eyes trained on your pussy, on the way your clit is framed by his first two fingers.

“Lovely,” he breathes, and his voice carries the same tone of awe as if he was staring out into the vast reaches of space. “You’re so lovely, look at yourself, look at how wet you are.” He effortlessly slides a finger into you, and then a second. His fingers are big, bigger than yours, and yet this feels like no intrusion at all. You rut uselessly into his hand, begging with your body for a question you don’t know how to ask.

Siebren knows the answer though. It seems like he always does when it comes to you. Slowly, he begins to thrust his fingers, angling his wrist so that he grazes your clit with every stroke. You writhe in his grasp, shuddering through a moan as pleasure courses through your body. His fingers disappear so easily into you, and for once you find it hard to tear your gaze away. You’re amazed that they even fit inside you, though with the wet shlick shlick of your fluids you can hardly be surprised. 

“You take me so well,” Siebren murmurs. A third finger joins his others, stretching you slowly, until he can move his fingers in unison. “All right?” he asks. His other hand squeezes yours comfortingly, and you squeeze back.

You feel so full, so impossibly warm. “Yes,” you hiss, rolling your hips to encourage him to move. He starts up a gentle rhythm, and through the mirror you can tell his gaze is trained on the place where his fingers vanish into you. “Full,” you mumble, lips closing off a whimper. “I’m  - ahh...Siebren, I need - “

He kisses the side of your face sloppily. “You’re doing so good,” he praises. “So full of me, so perfect…” He works his fingers faster, curls their tips just slightly, and your breath hitches on a gasp that falls to a needy moan. “That’s it,” he says, sounding out of breath. “Yes, lose yourself, focus on me, on me.”

Your orgasm builds with each fervent breath, with each stroke of his hand, and you’re reduced to a panting mess, hips rolling desperately. Unbidden, your eyes close as you focus on your growing pleasure. Your world shrinks down to a pinpoint of pleasure, to nothing but Siebren, and you can no longer contain your constant half-cries and whimpers. You feel him draw you closer, closer, wrapped so tightly against him you think you might drown in his affections.

“Please, mijn schatje,” he whispers, breath gliding hot across your neck. “Sing for me.”

And you do.

Warmth spreads from your centre down through your toes. You clench around his fingers as your body goes taut, and you can’t hold back the needy, uncontrolled whine that rips itself from your throat as Siebren works you through your orgasm, murmuring unintelligible phrases against your sweaty skin.

Slowly, slowly, you come down from your climax, and yet he continues to thrust his fingers inside you lazily.  “You’re gorgeous,” he cooes, and when you open your eyes you can see the love written plainly on his face as he stares at your reflection. “Gorgeous, my darling, mijn liefje, mine, all mine.” He dissolves into hushed tones, Dutch rolling off his tongue sickly-sweet. He could be mistaken for saying lewd things if not for his tone, so reverent and loving, and even with the language barrier you know he’s singing your praises. 

You lay boneless in his lap, no energy to even bring heat to your face at how debauched you look. Hair wild, love bites discoloring your skin, lips and thighs glistening with liquid. Part of you wants to respond to Siebren’s continued touches, but he’s fast approaching overstimulation. You make a noise low in your throat, hand falling from behind his neck to paw at his forearm.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes. He draws his fingers from you, slick pooling between them. He waits until you catch his eye in the mirror before he brings his soaked hand to his mouth, where his tongue begins to lave over his digits. You squirm under the intensity of his gaze as he licks his fingers clean, feeling heat rush to your face all over again.

“Delicious.”