#Ravishing Red lip color

[allthedesiredusernamesaretaken]

... red ...

[hazeltailofficial]

VALENTINE'S DAY FLASHBACK

Rimmel London Exaggerate Automatic Lip Liner in 057 Ravish

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[samodivaa]

permeated by jealously

Paring: Bucky x Reader

Summary: In your tight-fitting red dress, you look ravishing for the date with a Russian guy—but the moment you retort to Bucky in Russian, it begs to be ripped from your body.

Warnings: smut, angst, kitchen sex, rough/possessive, unprotected p in v, miscommunication Words: 4k

Bucky's veins are full of the serum, but at this moment, they are full with belladonna tincture, the substance of jealousy. Seeing you with another man, he speaks of Love in the past tense. The scene that plays in front of him—that guy coming to pick you up from the compound, is perfectly adapted to a temporal phenomenon: distinct, abrupt, framed, already a memory. For a split second you stare at each other, you smile at him ruefully. A fleeting, lasting moment for Bucky. Why do you even notice him? Seeing you happy, gives mixed colors to the air of the moment—he is lost in time, sleeping being his only lover.

Bucky wants to kiss you. Instead he puts his lips on the tumbler glass, pretending that it is you. His t-shirt is unbuttoned at the top, and he runs a hand through his hair before he puts the glass down on the kitchen counter—flashes of you in that dress that you wear for your date and the way it lifts your body up from a single look races through his head.

His cock jerks and he shakes his head, grinning as he stares down the bottle of vodka next to his cup.

And, for the first time in his innocent and confined life, he senses in himself a potential for a different corruption that takes his breath away. He doesn’t blame himself. He is a curious, wanting thing—finally, enlightened and free, but also lustful and carnal. But It stabs at him, almost like a physical pain, and he feels both deprived and angry, deprived because Bucky wishes to be with you and angry, because his own choices causes him misery. ----- “It is almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare, you're so relieved. I just wake up into another nightmare."

"And what is that nightmare, Bucky?" He keeps his blue, lusterless eyes fixed on Natasha with a calm but warm and kindly expression in them as he thinks how to say it  "My love life” “Maybe you need to ask her on a date, that’s what Vladimir does”

“Vladimir? Oh , so it is not just 'that one guy' anymore?”  he says in a quiet voice, without a trace of irritation, with a note of the simplest curiosity, his lips quivering as a forced smile comes on to his face. Nat momentarily startles. Then she starts to laugh. “You’re jealous of him?”

He clenches his jaw. “I’m not jealous,” a note of personal affront creeps into his voice “I don’t like his name”  ----- You are on a date, having fun—but anxiety grabs his mind, it is self-perpetuating. Worrisome thoughts reproduce faster than rabbits, he is trying not to lose his balance. Not yet. Especially when the jealousy sets in. 

Bucky is conscious every moment in himself of many, many elements positively swarming in him, ah these, opposite elements. He knows that they have been swarming in him since you started going out with Vladimir and they are craving some outlet from him, but he doesn't let them, would not let them, purposely would not let them come out, because he believes there is nothing so self-destroying, and so despicable, as his jealousy. He tries to appear as a hard shell on the outside when you finally enter the kitchen at 1 am—while there is a runny mess on the inside as he tenses, waiting for you to say something, anything. When you near the sink, your fingers find the curve of the faucet, the metal cool beneath the touch. He turns around to lean against the counter as you pour a cup of cold water. Bucky stares hard at you, watching you take a long drink then he follows the flick of your tongue over your bottom lip. His heart stumbles a beat. He is in such an irritated frame of mind, because of your quietness that in rude and abrupt fashion he blurts out the words:    “You must love that dress”

He takes time persing down the length of your body as you take a step back, watching you press against the counter and then back up before locking on your eyes again. You are not wearing a bra and your nipples harden from having his eyes on you. Red, the front needlessly too scandalous—at least for Bucky. The dipping v lets him see the swelled sides of your breasts pushed up and together. Just to be sure, though, a golden necklace with a teardrop pearl at the end, letting it trail just over your cleavage.

  “I didn’t know that you notice what I am wearing when I go out”

You answer, trying to look as innocent as possible. The vindictive smile that stretches on your ruined lipstick sends shivers down Bucky’s spine—did you make out with the guy, maybe more than that? You look beautiful sitting there looking at him like a she-cat. All he has to do is look at you, and he lusts. He wants to take off that delectable dress and make love to you until you don't have the energy to go out with anyone else ever again.

  “You’ve worn it for the second time. For your date.”

His gaze drops from your eyes, to the swell of your chest. Your chest tightens and you bite your lip to hide the grin wanting to escape. You notice the disgust written on his face and you laugh coldly, gaze never leaving his buff frame. With the certainty that you have well and truly punished him for not asking you on a single date. The angry, feral part of you feels so close to the surface that you can almost scent its blood-clotted fur. You want to lick the scratches you’ve made on him. You want to scratch him until he breaks apart. You gulp down the rest of your water to ease the heat flaming across your skin. Then you lick your lips. His gaze tracks the movement. You think you stopped breathing.

  “His name is Vlad” 

An audacious expression plasters on his face as you sigh in irritation at Bucky, rolling your eyes. Bucky is still leaning against the counter and rests his metal hand on the countertop while sipping vodka from the mug in his other hand. A beautiful yet deadly ornament—vibranium has no business being as hot as it is on him.

A note of personal affront creeps into his voice “Vladimir, mhm”

  “What else have you noticed about me?” your grin becomes a touch leery, innocently cocking your head to the side.

  “Try me” he says softly.

  “Favorite color?” you ask, interrogatively.

  He chuckles “Red”

  “Favorite quote?”

Your brows lift, anticipation making your nerves sing. You are not sure what he is about to say, but you have the feeling that it will be the right one, your heart leaps at the thought.

  “Much unhappiness has come into the world because of bewilderment and things left unsaid”  he answers, this time winking at you  “I know everything about you, sweetheart”   he adds and you feel like smacking that stupid grin off his face.

His mind works well when it comes to his work as an avenger, hovering on hummingbird wings, but when it comes to you, especially when you purposely play with his jealousy, It finds a way to push through any seal of his mind, his expressions are always an array of masks he uses to cover it up his emotions—but now, it is all over his face, pure surrender, because he is affected and you can tell, he is staring impudently at you, awning for your response.

  “I prefer kotyonok. Vlad says that cognac and wine is all for the heart and that vodka is for the soul. If it's hurting real bad and you’ve never had vodka before”

His brows lift, because this does surprise him and his stomach tightens at that particular Russian word. His mouth curls into a small snarl at the thought of that stupid man calling you that. A pang of jealousy surges through him. The bad kind. The kind of longing that makes him wonder that there must be a natural comorbidity between sexual appetite and sexual jealousy, between the desire to fuck and the desire to kill. He clears his throat, his face souring before his mocking tone grates:

  “Looks like you know a thing or two about me, too”   

He is trying to not be overcome by emotion. Emotion is the art of breaking hearts, minds, and tongues―but jealousy is too much, even for Bucky. He settles back into himself, shaking whatever momentary emotion flitted over his face and replacing it with a confident aura that screams laid back and in control as he cages you to the counter, his flesh hand still holding his half full cup. Your throat gurgles slightly, looking at the bigger frame towering you through your lashes like the starved woman you are. You are overwhelmed by his bold move, leaving you both speechless and breathless, but even then it is important to identify the correct emotion here—lust, a longing that goes on a loop. You try to ignore his hard cock pressing against your thigh, your attention remains on his face. You feel drunk without a drink, your nerves tighten, making your muscles clench―this is going exactly how you want. You want him to kiss you. But you make sure to keep your facial features mundane and level.   “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to think you have a crush on me, Bucky” You also ignore the annoying, visible blush on your cheeks, he must have noticed it because his expression goes grim for a second before a surprised laugh almost breaks free from his lips, responding only by a clink of his tumbler against yours. Judging by the rumble that vibrates in his chest, he likes your reaction, though the noise ends on a cynical note. His blue eyes drop to your mouth, warmth pours through your body and you moisturize your lips as he presses his knee between your legs. Right against your clit—you breathe out, a wave of pleasure sliding down your spine while Bucky just tips his glass back the last of vodka, allowing the burn to sear his throat and warm his stomach—while casually grinding his leg slowly against you, creating a sensation that has heat winding through your core and shooting down your legs.   “Na zdorovie” (cheers) You smile venomously with a kind of joyous sigh, your arrogance in this moment makes you feel very confident. Up to this moment possessiveness has not been that much of a torment, now it suddenly gnaws at his heart. As in slow motion, he pulls back to put both glasses on the counter. He realizes that you do something to him. Every time. It’s your only detriment this past month. To step on his heart—to test his feelings for you, and his jealousy already has made him erupt like a volcano. He has never been jealous before he met you. It burns. Some nights, watching you go with other men on missions, even that drives him mad. 

   “You and that fucking mouth, kotyonok” His voice sounds ill-natured, bitter, politeness that would only be laughed at, restraining an unruly nature, wary of the ways that you are trying to provoke him, but his tone shifts at the last word. Voice warm and low. Intimate. You like it this way. You like the way it sounds and it makes you gasp.   “You like this, don’t you, pretty girl?” Your character has absolutely changed. It is an entirely new and hitherto unknown being who now stands and stares at him somewhat lovingly. There is evidently, he concludes, something at work here, some storm of the mind, some paroxysm of emotion which he won’t question. When you say nothing, his hands move to your waist, his vision already blurring. His bones fill up with foam, a languid fear, and a terrible desire. You let out a deep breath and can’t deny the strange elation you feel when you feel his hands, needing more of it, of his touch. Your pussy contracts as his hands reach around, gripping a handful of your ass, forcing you harder against his both body and leg. The grip is both bruising and possessive, controlling every movement.     “Oh, god-” You open your mouth, and Bucky dips down, catching the moan with his tongue. Satisfaction sparks in his irises and he tilts his head and keeps watching you with those fucking lethal eyes of his. Bucky gives a small grin, a fake one. The type that shows no teeth and barely lifts at the corners. You feel a very small spark to your ego, knowing you are getting a rise out of him. But all of the playfulness in the air drowns beneath the intensity of his thousand shades of blue dancing in his eyes as if he is peeling back your mental layers, his eyes looking down watching the bare length of thigh that shows through the slit in your dress. 

   “You and these dresses” he groans. Whether you want to admit it or not, physically, this man affects you more than anyone else ever has, and that causes panic to percolate through every nerve, you feel like you are losing control, but you don’t mind it. You feel vulnerable, exposed, almost at his mercy at this point. Jealousy isn't a pleasant quality, but his jealousy is combined with modesty and there's even something touching about the filthy words coming out of his mouth. He wants you—and finally, he is not afraid to both tell and show it.

   “Ya ne mogu vyrazit', kak sil'no ty menya zavodish'” (I can’t explain to you how much you turn me on) Your lips part and you swallow audibly while he has the most delicious visual of his dick slipping between them, your eyes staring up at him in surprise and that sweet tongue running along the shaft. He surges forward, your face is an inch from his when you breathe out, he breaths in before crossing the final, tiny gap and pressing his lips to yours. It is not a sweet kiss. It is hard, demanding, and possessive, borne out of weeks of pent-up frustration and tension. His mouth is hungry and insistent, his tongue probing your lips, asking for greater intimacy. You grant it, tongues swirling together, yours follow his when it retreats and tasting his in return. When he finally pulls back, he rests his hands on your hips, and stares into your eyes for a minute.

  “Tvoy zapakh s uma menya svodit” (your scent drives me crazy) 

He speaks without haste, controlling himself so well, yet there is something in his voice, determined and euphoric, resentful and insolently defiant. Passion smolders in his eyes as he traces the line of your clavicle with his index flesh finger, pausing for only a fraction of a second. And then you become aware of all the magnificent silk wrapping around your body, you have the feeling that you might drown in his eyes, his two drops of winter rain.   “I would love to make love to you, but not tonight”  He studies your face, pleading silently for your approval, searching for the smallest sign, the slightest movement of your brow, the vaguest reddening of your cheeks, the surprise of your eyes. At that moment, your soul clenches as well as your pussy. The hard dick still pressing into you distracts you from replying. You can feel your panties dampening. And your nipples are suddenly incredibly sensitive, aching as they pucker against the material of your dress. Your chest warms, desire winding like a rope around your core. You think you like Bucky this way. A smile shows on your face. This would be invisible to any, but the closest scrutiny—Bucky has noticed it and taken it for his sign. Then he leans forward and presses his lips once more, his sugar roughness, his possessiveness is what you need to finally feel.   “What did you do when you went out?”   “We had a few drinks. We danced.” you reply, thinking it best to speak the truth at once. His lip quivers slightly, forcing himself to seem calm, but Bucky’s eyes are sparkling irefully, there is no doubt in his expression the full success of your endeavors to make him even more detested.   “You danced with him?” he asks, with sudden vivacity.   “Well, he is my date” You murmur, trying to smooth away all disquietude on the subject, you sense a physical weakness by the violent, unequal throbbing of your own heart, which beats visibly and audibly under the excess of agitation—but before you can even manage to open your mouth again, his metal fingers grab the front of your gown and pull it until it tears, no matter how beautiful, it was meant for another man—perfect breast on display just for him, his cock pulses at the sight. His touch tickles you on his way up to your boobs, skirting over your ribs before fully cupping them in his palms. “Tony’s rules include no sex in the common areas” “Fuck the rules” he grits out, more animal than you have ever heard from a human. And then he gives you a smile that just seems so genuinely sweet—with the filthy touch of his hands, that unexpected warmth rushes through you. His thumbs run over the hardened peaks, making you moan and his dick is so stiff that he is worried that he might come.   “Ty moya” he says coolly. (you are mine)

   He leans in, his voice a rumble in your ear.   “Moy kotyonok” (my kitten)

Bucky moves, gripping the meat of your thighs before he spins you harshly around and bends you over the counter. Your walls are squelching around nothing as you feel him pull back, murmuring something in Russian, it is sinful—and pleasurable, drawing a muffled whimper from your mouth as you hear him tear apart your panties. You lick your lips, trying to quench the thirst for him. Your throat is dry as you hear his belt clattering noisily as he unbuckles it, popping the buttons of his jeans open, followed by the low purr of his zipper coming undone, he drifts his hands down his sides and hooks both thumbs into his jeans, sliding them and the boxers down his legs before pressing his body against yours until every inch of him melds into you one more. Bucky’s metal hand grips your chin and forces your head back while the other closes around your throat as his cock presses against you—chills slide up your spine, arousal sending a shot of adrenaline through your center as you feel pre-cum on your naval. Fuck, he is huge. There is a certain satisfaction in manhandling you into this position, the flesh arm tightens around your nape, holding you close to him. 

   "How about we make a deal? You wear dresses for me and I take you out on dates?” He rambles against your ear, tongue slipping out to taste you, just a little bit. His cock nudges around your ass cheeks, to your sleek mound until he gasps as he guides his sticky cockhead with his metal hand, gliding through your delicate folds and returning his cold grasp around your chin. He doesn’t say anything as he slips inside you with ease, your wetness sucking him in, making it easy for him to thrust into you until he buries himself to the hilt.     “Fuck, you feel good”

Bucky moans quietly as his eyes close, focusing on feeling your cunt wrapping around his dick for the first time. His lips stay silent, but he chatters with his fingertips, with the way his hands hold, the way he fucks you. You want to see his face, but you can only imagine how perfect he looks.

His expression is dreamy, floating. Soaked in pleasure—breathless, possessed, lost in the volcanic eruptions of fever, lust and delight. Your pussy cradles around his dick as he pounds into you from behind. It is an igniting feeling to have so much control over your body. It is sick and twisted, he has long learned to run from what he feels and wants, that's why he has nightmares. To deny is to invite madness. To accept is to control. And he needs to take control over something for once in his life. You. He has lost control over everything, even the places in his head. When your moans become too loud, his hand closes around your neck, slowly cutting into your skin while cutting off oxygen. It is more painful than lethal, but more erotic than painful. His growls erupt from his chest, the primal noise flooding your senses, making your insides clench around his length.

   “Come for me, drench my dick”

He whispers, fucking his cock against your cervix. He nibbles at your earlobe, loving the sharp intake of your breath as you struggle to breathe. Jealousy…teeth dragging against your skin, living marks. The primal lust, the sheer need to claim you, quickly finding ways to express his sacred hunger to you in animal passion. He snarls out gluttonous groans against your skin as you clench and seize, pounding you harder as your body contracts. Pleasure breaks out like a wildfire, reaching around your temples, shooting up and down your spine as his thrusts never falter, his mouth hangs open with bliss, his cock plunging into you with skin-slapping speed and he finally reaches his orgasm, cock spurting a thick dollop of cum with each throb.

Lust is the best of all the deadly sins, you realize as he pulls out and helps you go back on your shaky feet. It all happened too fast. You only wanted a kiss. You push his chest like you want him off of you, but your fingers have Bucky’s shirt clutched in them and he knows you are full of shit. You want him. 

   “I wish I could say I felt guilty for what I did. I don't.” The timbre of his voice goes into that low register that makes your insides curl in on themselves. You want that tongue to swipe your sex like licking the frosting off a cupcake. It is the sexual chemistry you want more of. It is electric. But guilt sets in. You are feeling torn between your commitment to building a relationship with Vlad while engaging with Bucky, in a way it feels like cheating. A part of you is hoping someone from the team would wake up and catch you, so you wouldn't have to live with this lie. But no one wakes up and in the silence that follows, you understand the nature of your new curse: you are going to get away with it. Your silence hurts him, his mouth tightens. But there are some wounds that he can heal only by deepening them and making them worse. And yet, sometimes facts are no more than pitiful consequences, Bucky knows how the public will perceive you if you are dating the former Winter Soldier. Seeing you standing there unresponsive makes him realize that silence has a sound—he knows that you regret sleeping with him. You are the people's favorite Avenger, the one everyone look up to with admiration and reverence—he is sure that you are thinking about it, but he understands. The blue moons in his eyes are glimmering with an emotion you can’t put his finger on—and he should be sad, but instead, he feels nothing. He feels a lot of nothing these days. He is empty, as if whatever makes him feel and hurt and laugh and love has been surgically removed, leaving him hollowed out like a shell. This is for your happy ever after, Vlad might be a stupid Russian, but he is at the very core of his existence—a real human. He turns around and paces the room, as if he can leave his regret, you, behind. But it cracks you as you see him walk away, leaving you naked like an ugly shadow made by himself. You have mistaken his lust for love. Regret. It turns into anger, into hatred. And where there is anger there is always pain underneath. You eventually come to understand that in harboring the anger, the bitterness and resentment towards Bucky who has hurt you, you are giving the reins of control over to him—maybe It’s time to finally say “yes” to being Vlad’s girlfriend.

[im-ovulating]

A Jasper kinktober with bloodplay and light choking?

(A/n: Kinktober Day 1/15 LET'S GOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!)

Word Count: 1,774

Summary: Yeah, your trust could have easily been misplaced, he's an apex predator, after all... good thing it wasn't.

Warnings: Blood, light choking, Reader being stupid

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Jasper Whitlock x Fem! Reader: Trust

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

Jasper's weight is solid and comforting on top of you in a stark contrast to the way he is ravishing your mouth.

Your fingers are tangle in his soft curls as you kiss him back with equal fervor. You're dizzy with Jasper - his weight, his taste, his smell. God, his smell... Woodsy but also a bit spicy; it's hard to put an exact name to it, but, if you could drown in it, you would without a first, let alone second, thought.

"Fuck, you taste amazing, darlin'..." Jasper groans, wrapping his arm under you to press you even closer. As he nibbles your bottom lip, he uses a bit too much pressure.

Jasper freezes before you even taste the iron. His once honey-colored eyes now a deep amber as he stares down at you. His chest heaves with unnecessary breaths as he fights to control himself.

Trapped under him, you have no choice but to simply look up at him with wide eyes and bated breath. You're at his mercy; a rabbit trapped in the maw of a hungry wolf.

"Sugar..." His voice is gruff and strained with the effort of fighting his instincts. "Sugar, I need you to get up and leave. I need you to leave the house, get in your car and drive... now." He shifts his weight to free you, giving you a straight shot out of the bedroom.

"But-" "Now!"

You flinch a little at the sudden volume, though you remain rooted in your spot. There's something about the way he's looking at you that makes you unable to move; you're like a deer in headlights or maybe the thought of being so irresistible to him that he has to fight himself is just keeping you thinking clearly. Or you're just insane... Yeah. It's probably that...

"You won't hurt me..." You mumble, barely believing it yourself. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears.

As you reach up to cup his cheek, your hand is surprisingly steady. You try to bury the hurt that rips through you when he flinches from your touch.

"You don't know that." Jasper grits out. His fingers are fisted in the sheets so hard that his knuckles are impossibly white.

"You haven't hurt me yet..." You reason, knowing that it truly doesn't mean anything. You wipe your bottom lip with your thumb, collecting the red droplets. You ignore the way your stomach flips as his gaze snaps to your hand.

"What are you doing, Sugar?" God, that rasp alone could make you wet.

"I trust you..." Is your whispered response as you lift your thumb to his lips.

"I don't trust me." Jasper retorts. He tries to turn his head, but you don't let him. You swipe your thumb against his bottom lip, smearing the blood on it. it's a taunt - a stupid one - and both of you know it.

You watch with a hammering heart as he subconsciously lets his tongue dart out to taste the liquid. Before you can even react, his eyes go black and his hand closes around your throat as he tilts your head back. His grip doesn't hurt, but it leaves no wiggle room for you to pull away.

"Jas-" You start to say, realizing just how stupid you were. You've known he's a vampire, known that he has trouble controlling himself around blood. Fuck... However, you're cut off as his mouth crashes against yours once more.

Jasper's tongue immediately invades your mouth, tracing the seam of your lips as he laps up more of your blood. A small whimper leaves you, only to be swallowed up by his kiss.

"You're playing with fire darlin'..." his voice is lower than you've ever heard. Hungrier. "You want to play with nature? Toy with your life and my control? Huh?" He lowers his head to trail his nose along your neck, pressing a kiss to your thundering pulse point. "I can smell how wet you are for me... I can feel how aroused you are." You can feel your face grow hotter as he lays the truth out so blatantly. "You like the idea of being so vulnerable, don't you, Sugar?"

All you can do is nod pathetically as he experimentally flexes his hand around your throat.

"Well, consider it done, princess, I'll give you what you want..." He grins against your neck. He gives it a small, harmless nip before pulling back.

He reaches behind his head to pull his shirt off.

"Strip." He orders as he shoves his jeans down.

Apparently, you take too long because before you can even start, he decides to rip your jeans off. The button pops and lands somewhere in the room with a soft *clink* that's drowned out by your startled gasp. Your shirt and panties quickly join them as he trails kisses down your chest.

His hand stays firm around your throat as he draws back to meet your gaze. "Tell me what you want, darlin'... I need to know your mind matches what you're feelin'."

You shiver under Jasper's intense gaze, your heart racing with a potent mixture of fear and arousal. His firm grip on your throat leaves you feeling deliciously powerless, completely at his mercy.

"I want you," you breathe, voice barely above a whisper. "All of you. I trust you, Jasper, even if you don't trust yourself."

Your hands reach up to caress his face, thumbs tracing the sharp lines of his jaw. "I know the risks, but I want this. Want you to take me, claim me as yours." You pause, biting your lip nervously. "Please, Jasper…"

Your eyes search his, silently pleading with him to give in to his desires, to let go of his control and give you everything you crave. The hunger burning in his gaze makes your breath catch, anticipation coiling tight within you.

Jasper's grip on your throat tightens ever so slightly, making your pulse quicken. His eyes blaze with unbridled desire as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light caress.

"You have no idea what you're asking for, darlin'," he rasps, voice dripping with temptation. "I could snap your neck with barely a thought. Drain you dry in the blink of an eye."

He pauses, letting his words sink in as his free hand trails down your body, eliciting a shiver from you. "But god help me, I want you too. Want to feel you quivering beneath me, hear you moan my name as I fuck you senseless."

His hand drifts lower, teasing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You instinctively part your legs, silently begging him to touch you where you ache for him most.

"Please, Jasper," you plead, fingers digging into his shoulders. "I need you. Take me, claim me, do whatever you want - I trust you."

With a feral growl, Jasper crushes his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, swallowing your mewls of pleasure. His hand leaves your throat to grip your hip, pulling you flush against him as he grinds his hardness against your slick heat.

"Then you're mine, sugar," he murmurs huskily against your lips. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

Jasper's grip on your hips tightens as he lines himself up with your aching core, the tip of his cock teasing your slick folds. You let out a desperate whimper, your nails raking down his back as you try to pull him closer.

"Please, Jasper...I need you," you beg shamelessly, your body thrumming with a depraved, desperate need that you know he can feel.

With a low, guttural groan, Jasper surges forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight, welcoming heat. You cry out at the delicious stretch, your walls fluttering and clenching around his cock.

He pauses for a moment, giving you time to adjust, his near-black eyes smoldering with barely contained hunger. Then, with a primal growl, he begins to move - hard, fast, relentless thrusts that have you seeing stars.

"Fuck, you feel so good, sugar," he pants, his face buried in the crook of your neck. "So tight, so wet...all for me."

Your back arches as he hits that sweet spot inside you, over and over, sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body. You're completely at his mercy, your mind hazy with lust and the knowledge that your life hangs by a thread; that you could easily die if he loses even an ounce of the control he's holding on a fraying leash.

Jasper's grip on you tightens as he gathers you close, his lips trailing feather-light kisses along the delicate column of your neck. You shiver at the contrast of his cool skin against your flushed and sensitive skin.

"You're mine, sugar," he rumbles again, the possessiveness in his tone sending a thrill down your spine. His hand caresses your hip, fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin.

You arch into his touch, utterly intoxicated by his nearness. The predatory gleam still lingers in his darkened eyes, but there's a softness there too - a silent promise that he will protect you, even from himself.

Slowly, he rolls his hips, still buried deep inside you. You gasp at the sensation, your body already aching for more. Jasper chuckles, low and delicious, as he watches your reactions.

"So responsive, darlin'," he murmurs, nipping gently at your earlobe. "I could spend all night making you come undone."

His hand trails up your side, skimming the curve of your breast. You arch further into his touch, silently begging for more. Jasper obliges, his thumb caressing your nipple until it hardens into a tight peak.

"Please, Jasper," you whimper, your hips rocking against his in a silent plea.

With a predatory grin, Jasper shifts his weight, pressing you back into the mattress. His thrusts build in intensity, driving you higher and higher until you're trembling on the edge of release.

"That's it, sugar," he growls, his lips ghosting over yours. "Let go for me. Come apart on my cock."

Your vision whites out as the coil of tension within you snaps, your body convulsing around him in ecstasy. Jasper follows soon after, his fangs grazing your neck in a silent reminder of the threat he poses as he spills himself inside you with a guttural groan.

Spent and sated, you cling to him, your heartbeat gradually slowing. Jasper nuzzles your hair affectionately, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back.

"That was incredibly stupid and reckless of you, darlin'..." Jasper admonishes softly as he settles down.

"I know..." you pant a bit. "But I already told you: I trust you."

[etfrin]

⤷❝Blood Red Roses | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | blood play, riding, pinv sex, crying during sex, dubcon if you squint, period sex, marking, biting, Snow is his own warning, creampie, belly bulge, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), breath play, dom sub undertones, fingering (f. receiving) | lmk if I forgot anything

⇢☾Pairing: young Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: filthy porn <3

⇢☾A/N: read at your own damn risk, idc how filthy this is :D

< masterlist > < bc: @cafekitsune > < taglist >

He's supposed to be disgusted, in a sense he is. Even as he pushed you to the bed, despite your protests, his mind was reeling but he was desperate. Desperate in the most pitiful way possible. Desperate in a sense that proved he was a man who easily succumbs to the greed of flesh. Desperate for you.

Nobody could blame him for his actions. His actions switched the position so that he was lying down on the bed. Your legs straddling him on either side. Both of you were exposed to each other's eyes. His dick was leaking pre-cum onto his abs. Your pussy is slick with your arousal and blood from your period. Your inner thighs are covered in the variant shades of blood red.

His eyes look down onto your skin, the shade of red contrasting with your color. His mind itched at him for this was beneath him, having someone like this, being so desperate that you don't worry about the mess it causes. A pearl of blood rolls down your skin, and Snow catches onto his fingertip. The bead of red liquid was interesting in a way he hadn't thought possible. His breath hitches as he spreads the blood onto your skin.

He can't take it anymore, he sits up, surprising you by putting his hand into your hair and pulling you down to catch your lips with his greedy mouth. His tongue ravishes your mouth, swiping over your teeth, stealing your taste and your soul as he bites your lower lip. His palm moved to cup your cunt, his hand getting coated in the mixture of your blood and juices. He groans into your mouth, your slick thicker because of different textures. He immediately knew it would feel different. His lips travel to your jaw to press wet kisses. Snow takes a moment of pause, preparing himself to cross his limits as his fingertip presses to your entrance.

“You don't have to,” you whispered, sensing his tense body, “I could blow you.” “You wish,” he scoffed, “It's your cunt I want, it's your cunt I will get, my bird.” His finger finally slides in, and your tight pussy is wetter than ever before. He easily slips another finger in making you whimper.

You let out soft moans as his fingers stretch you out for his cock, your walls more sensitive than usual. The smell of iron and sex filled the air, making him lightheaded. He looked down, his fingers connecting themselves to you, his hand bloody red. The sight makes him gasp, his mind flashing unpleasant memories but his cock getting incredibly hard that it hurts not to give it any attention.

His head was spinning, his mind disgusted by the filth and the mess but his body was hot. Whatever boundaries he had left for himself died when he took his bloody fingers out and cleaned it up by wiping his hands onto your skin. The red stains your skin in small strokes, underneath your breasts, and your tummy. The sight of it made him snap, his mouth latching onto your nipple sucking onto it like a vampire, a starved one. It makes you cry out, your hands on his shoulder for support.

His mouth sucks your supple breast as much as possible as one of his hands (the bloody one) kneads your other breast, marking you even further. The thought turned him insane, you bloody red, the similar shade to his usual outfit. His teeth sinks around your round flesh making you let out a small scream with how hard it was. “Coryo!” You cry out, your lips gasping from his more than-usual rough behavior.

He pulls back, his blue eyes blown wide into a feral black. His teeth marking your skin, dents into flesh as a small invisible bead of blood begins to form. He had bitten hard enough to break the skin. His tongue lavs around the wound he had caused, his hands now digging into your hip making you gasp, knowing that it will bruise. He lets the taste of blood bloom into his mouth, his mind accepting this as another extension of his sick self.

He repeated the process several times, around your breasts, neck, shoulder, and collarbone. Your skin was tainted with blood, tears falling from your eyes as he licked it all clean and pressed small kisses onto the wound as if to say sorry. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you continued to fall prey to his actions. Deeming himself satisfied as he sees your marked body, his twitching dick finally came to his mind. He drags his lips from your neck to your ear, and he whispers, “Ride me, my dove. Like your life depends on it.”

Knowing him, it might as well do. He leans back, his back onto the mattress. You couldn't enjoy the sight of his bare body because of the tears in your eyes. The pain was overwhelming your veins in the most delicious way possible. Your pussy pulsating with the need for his cock.

You start to sink on him, your cunt so much more wet it seemed impossible, it made the slide graciously smooth that you take him down to the hilt quickly enough despite the burn of the stretch. You both let out moans, his eyes rolling back because of your pussy, your lips letting out a gasp from how good he filled you up with his cock.

“Fuck, Coryo”, you whimper, “fuck.” This angle made his cockhead press into your spongy spot perfectly, making you see stars as you adjust to his length. “Come on, baby,” he whines, his hold on your hips getting harder, “Come on.”

Your eyes closed shut as you raised your hips before falling onto his cock. Moans begin to echo into the room as you get desperate, fucking yourself onto his cock, your blood gushing onto his skin, covering his cock red.

Meanwhile Snow had his brain shut off, his lips panting for dear life as your cunt sucked him in with each thrust your hips made. The glide of his cock so much smoother, your blood making a much better lube than your arousal ever could. He berated himself for his thoughts only for him to know he's right as more blood gushes out of your tight pussy and covers your skin.

You looked so beautiful to him right now, like a goddess trapped in mortal flesh. Not an inch of your upper body was free of marks, your skin perfected with various shades of red, purple and blue hues. Love bites that it would be impossible to cover. His balls tightened as he couldn't keep his eyes off you. Coriolanus never thought his self-control could be tested like this. It took every ounce of his restraint not to fuck you like an animal.

All it took for that mere man to break was a loud moan that escaped your lips when you took deeper him than expected, his cock bumping into your cervix. His eyes roll back, a groan of his mixed with your moans into the air. He snaps. Snow was never a fair man after all, he didn't have to play nice.

He switched positions, hooking your legs onto his shoulders so his cock would reach even deeper, impossibly deep, making you whine that you couldn't possibly take it. He didn't hear your pleas, his mind focused on your warm, wet pussy ruining him for anyone else. “You can,” he sneers, “and you will, my bird.”

And so you do. His dick throbbing inside of you as his thrusts get fast and needy. His self control is completely breaking. For the first time, Corios' actions weren't calculated. His thrusts get sloppier, as he pays you no mind, chasing his own relief like a dog in heat.

His palm pressed into your lower stomach, he feels his cock thrusting in and out of you and smirks, “See? You're taking it.” You couldn't even reply to his teasing, your oversensitive walls fluttering around his length. You were drooling, and never had Snow turned you into such a speechless mess.

His hand pressed harder, making you moan. “Yes, fuck, Coryo!” You scream, as your pussy begins to spasm around his cock. The sudden orgasm surprises you as much as him. His cunt continues to milk his cock and as you gasp much needed air. “Cum,” you begin to beg, “I can't- please Coryo!”

His free hand goes to your jaw, gripping it tightly as he leaned down and whispered against your lips, “You can, my dove. You can.” His sickly sweet tone makes your mind believe that you could do it only if your body agreed. You give him a meek nod, your mind filled with pleasure to disobey his words. His lips pressed against yours into a harsh kiss you had no control over. He groans into your mouth, as his pace gets sloppy but harder. His cock twitching inside of your cunt.

His hand that holds your jaw goes to your neck, pressing your throat to restrict your breathing, it makes your pussy clench perfectly around him causing his hips to stutter as he cums in you, filling your womb with his seed. He pulled out, laid beside you. Both of you are catching much needed breath.

Your eyes close, your body and mind exhausted. Coriolanus leans over you, his lips pressing a delicate kiss to your forehead.

“I'll buy you more red dresses, you look pretty in red.”

tags : @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @maurdershavemyheart @motley-baby @champomiel @slytherinholland @justacaliforniandreamer

[safination]

Darling, I'm an Overlord

|Masterlist|

Pairings: Alastor x wife!Reader. Tags: fem!Reader, AFAB, Established Relationship, Alastor is in hell for a reason, Reader is in hell for a reason, Dry humping, licking, biting, sucking, foreplay, MINORS DNI

“I could make an offering,” you say, pressing a kiss to where his jaw ends. It’s a simple act to roll your hips down. “…But I think I would prefer to get on my knees and show you how I worship.” Alastor grips your waist, rolling your hips even deeper. “Just a king?” “How about an emperor?” A twitch tells you everything there is to know—it’s still not enough. “More.” “How greedy,” you tell him and tap a stray finger on his belt buckle. “Hmmm, then—How about I worship you like an Overlord?” Alastor laughs, shaking his head but his hips rut upwards to meet you halfway. It’s the smallest of movements, but if forces you to press a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. TLDR: Alastor's worried you'll be late for dinner, but he promised to be patient, and such control deserves an award

This was stuck in my mind and no, I will not continue it but any other author is free to go and complete it. Honestly, not my best work but I think some of you might enjoy it. Tbh, I felt awkward writing it, but that's a whole different can of worm. This is quite short and I wish I could add more, but not really lol. MINORS DNI—NSFW

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There’s a specific shade of red that Alastor enjoys on your lips. It’s quite the inconvenience to ask a shop to custom make the color every single time the lipstick runs out, but your husband is a man of fine detail. Even the smallest of changes will be noted.

As all things do, this specific pigment will eventually disappear for good. Still, you swipe the color across your lips, painting it red.

Afterall, a special night requires a special look.

“Dearest, we’re going to be late,” Alastor calls out with a smile that shows the yellow of his teeth. There’s a small twitch on his cheek and his fingers impatiently tap on the tip of his microphone, even as he sports an even tone. “The reservation won’t hold for very long.”

You lock his gaze from the reflection of the mirror. “Late?”

“Yes,late.” Alastor brings a hand out, leaning on the bed. There’s a carefully crafted expression of boredom on his face. “We’re going to be late.”

Darling, you’re the Radio Demon–one of the most powerful Overlords in this realm.” You blot your lips on some tissue. “They wouldn’t give away our table, and there’s always the option to kill anyone who complains.”

A muscle on Alastor’s cheek twitches. “Oh my…It seems I’ve been far too complacent if someone would dare to voice their objections to me.”

Lines trail the skirt of your dress, smoothing the wrinkles before presenting it to Alastor. “Tell me what you think, honey,” you say, smiling as you twirl. “Come on–How does it look on me?

“Good,” Alastor says, humming. “Shall we take our leave? I already have your coat.”

You frown, pointing your nose into the air. “Good?” you parrot back. “That’s not good enough. I was aiming for ravishing. I guess I should change.”

“Take your time, my love.” Alastor pinches the bridges of his nose but smiles nonetheless. “Afterall, I specifically said I wouldn’t complain.”

With a laugh, you stride towards him and present your bare back. “A little help?”

“That’s much better,” Alastor says as a claw gently trails up the skin of your back. The tip sends shivers down your spine and straight into your core until he digs the claw on the base of your shoulder. A drop of blood oozes out, trailing down your back. “Now, it’s absolutely ravishing.”

“I meant the zipper,” you say. “If it stains, Niffty will hang your head.”

“My apologies.”

Oh…his tongue is moist. It trails across your skin, painting slow trails across your shoulder to lap the blood. The zipper of your dress zips up before you could fully lose yourself.

You turn to face Alastor, stepping between his legs to place your hands on his knees. It only takes a single but gentle push to widen the space, and your hands keep pushing wider until you’re leaning down to meet his gaze.

“You’ve been doing an exemplary job of hiding your irritation,” you say, and kiss the edge of his lips, lingering for more than a moment. “Such control deserves a reward.”

Alastor takes his thumb, swiping away the streak of red. It only smudges it across his lips. “We have a reservation,” he says but slots you further between his legs with a firm grasp on your hips. “What was the point of making one if we aren’t going to be on time?”

The tip of your tongue swipes across his lips, lapping away the lipstick stain.

Alastor’s eye twitches, and uses a finger to push you back. Instead you open your mouth to suck his finger, swirling your tongue around the skin. It trails from the base of where his palm meets his finger then until his knuckle. The wetness of your tongue licks until it reaches the tip of his pointed claw.

The edges of your teeth nibble on his skin before taking in another finger. Alastor blinks at you as you suck his digits deeper in your mouth, swirling your tongue around to reach the tip then down the knuckle until his claw hits the back of your throat.

You move your tongue upwards from the base, trailing it to lap around the tip of his claw before releasing his fingers with a small pop.

A line of saliva bridges your tongue to his finger.

The palms of your hands trail up his knees, pressing down the plum of his legs. “We’ve been over this, darling,” you tell him, inching closer to press a kiss on the edges of his lips. “Overlord. Radio Demon. Death.”

Alastor catches your wrists, playing with the tips of your fingers before intertwining them. “Just an Overlord?”

“Powerful Overlord.” The next kiss goes on his jaw.

“Then how would you give me my reward?” Alastor pulls back, pressing his own kiss on the ring around your finger. “Tell me every detail.”

“I could treat you like a king,” you say, brushing your lips down his jaw. Alastor leans to the side, exposing his neck for another one of your kisses. “

Your hands trail across his dress pants once more, stopping when your knees land on the carpet.

The side of your cheek nuzzles against his leg, and you smile up at him, locking his gaze to your eyes. You press your lips along the inside of his thigh, glazing kiss after kiss after kiss. Still, you keep your eyes staring firm into him, even as Alastor’s leg jumps from the sudden bite of your teeth.

The curve of your nose outlines his leg, and a muscle in his thigh tightens. It loosens and relax when you brush the pads of your thumb up and down.

Alastor crawls back to climb down the bed. A steady hand guides the plush of your thigh, beckoning you to crawl after him. It squeezes when his back hits the headboard. Alastor’s thumb swipes over the inside of your leg and he digs a claw into the skin. This prompts you to throw your legs over him, straddling his hip while leaving room for an erection to grow.

“Tell me how you would treat me like a king.”

“I could make an offering,” you tell him, rolling your hips to stimulate his softened member. The crotch of your lace underwear grinds on him. “...But I think I would prefer to get on my knees, and show you how I worship a king.”

Alastor grips your waist to pull your lower into him, steading you as you rub against him. “Just a king?”

“How about an emperor?”

A twitch pokes your crotch and it tells you everything there is to know–it’s still not enough. Alastor needs … “More.”

“How greedy,” you tell him, trailing your hands down his chest until it reaches his belt buckle. Your fingers tap on the metal over and over and over again. “Hmmm, then–How about I worship you like an Overlord?”

Alastor laughs into the air, breathy as he exhales. Sure, it’s a ridiculous notion…but his hips rut upwards to meet you halfway. The way his clothed tip grins on the crotch of your panties pulls a small gasp tumbling out your lips. It’s the smallest of movements but it forces you to press a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself.

Alastor grunts as he snaps his hips up. The claws on his hand dig into your hip when you grind down on him.

More….It’s not enough. You need mo--

Alastor’s bow tie is crooked. That just won’t do.

You pull on the edges of the fabric, unfastening the knot until it pools between your palms. The pace of your grinding slows as the pads of your finger trail down his arms. It wraps around his wrist, and you bring them to your lips, pressing a kiss on the inside before pulling them together above his head.

Another twitch of his clothed cock. It hits deeper into your core this time, prompting you to lean forward with a breath exhale. Never have you been more glad to be wearing such thing panties. The force of your shifting weight grinds your crotch harder into him. The back of Alastor’s head hits the headboard with a slight jump.

There’s an innocent smile on your lips as you take his bowtie and bind his wrist to the bedframe with a knot. “This looks much better, indeed.”

Alastor pulls on the knot and it unfasted around his wrist. “Are you doing this correctly?”

You keep grinding deeper into his cock until small moans release into the air. The pace of your humping quickens as you re-tie the loose knot around his wrist. 

“Don’t you know, darling? Overlords brim with power,” you tell him, trailing a sharp nail between the buttons of his dress-shirt until it snaps open. “I have to protect this feeble body of mine from such strength.”

Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek with a hum. “How smart.”

“Shall we make a deal, my dearest, darling, Overlord husband?” you say, nibbling the edges of your teeth on his shoulder. 

Alastor snaps his hips up to rut the tip even deeper, forcing you to moan into his skin. Soft breaths brush across. His hands dig deeper into your hips, pulling even deeper as he grinds his cock into your underwear.

“Slow… Fast. It doesn't matter,” you say, and the words come breathier than planned. “I will keep going until the knot holds secure. The moment it slips off, so do I…And I will leave, no matter how close … no matter how desperate.”

Each word brushes your lips on the sensitive spot between the junction of his neck and shoulder. Fabric prevents you from burying yourself deeply around his cock and moving until his hips bruise

Alastor leans backward to chase a greedy kiss, but you lean away with a smile. “..Dearest.”

“But we’re going to be late,” you tell him. “Afterall, reservations were mad--”

Shadow tentacles slither around your body, trailing across your waist and up your breasts. Darkness crawls between them, massaging the soft tissue. It trails higher and higher until it reaches your neck.

 “Oh darling…don’t you know?” Alastor says, and the tentacles pull your head lower until you feel the clothed tip pressing on your lips.

There isn’t much else to do but press your lips, giving his cock the smallest of kisses.

“I’m an Overlord.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Tell me what you guys think! I'm not really used to writing such suggestive pieces lol Sooo some feedback would be nice.

[usagiumiko3]

Intense reflections

˗ˏˋ Sylus has a thing for your red lipstick ˎˊ˗

Sylus × Reader

Love and Deepspace

Words: 2,325

tw: just kissing, touching and sexuala tension (・ω<)

ao3

Sitting at your vanity table, you carefully apply your deep red lipstick. In the reflection of the mirror, you could see Sylus sitting on the bed, his eyes fixed on you with intense focus.

His gaze devours you and it makes you feel nervous, knowing that every movement of yours was being observed and savored by his blood red eyes. The way he looked at you was like an aphrodisiac to him, evident in the dilation of his pupils. They were intense and all consuming, taking in every shift of your body and every brush of your hand against your lips. The way he looked at you made you feel both exhilarated and nervous, as if he was under a spell.

You try to will your body to ignore his overwhelming presence, but your hand betrays you with its trembling. Nervousness consumes you, causing your heart to quicken and your breath to catch in your throat. The weight of his gaze feels heavy on your skin as you struggle to keep your composure.

As you gaze at your reflection in the mirror, you can't help but feel confident and beautiful. Tonight is a special event and Sylus has invited you to be by his side. He picked out a stunning dress, heels, and accessories for you, all according to his own taste. You couldn't complain even if you wanted to, because everything he chose is exquisite. You marvel at how he always manages to have such impeccable taste and give you gifts that take your breath away with their beauty and value.

You push away your thoughts and refocus on applying your lipstick. You part your lips slightly and glide the lipstick smoothly over them, feeling his intense gaze on you. After skillfully applying it with clean edges, you gently tap the middle of your lips to blend it in. As you focus on achieving an even application, you suddenly hear his deep rumbling voice.

"That color suits you well, sweetheart" he commented, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. You couldn't help but shiver slightly as his words washed over you.

You smile and continue to apply your lipstick, determined to get it perfect.

"You look especially stunning tonight" you hear his voice deepening even further, if that was even possible. "I can hardly contain myself until we arrive at the event."

You pause with your lipstick mid air as you glance at him in the mirror. “Pardon?”

He gives you a mischievous grin and for a moment, you could have sworn that his eyes were glowing with a deep red lust.

"You heard me, sweetheart. How many times do you think I can refrain myself from ravishing you in that beautiful dress?"

Slowly, he rises from the bed and approaches you from behind. You can sense his warmth as he stands close to your back. His fingertips trace a path down your shoulders and arms, sending an electric wave through your body. As he leans in close, his hot breath tickles your neck.

As you lift your eyes to meet his in the mirror, a jolt of adrenaline courses through your body. His strong, piercing gaze holds yours, sending shivers down your spine. You can feel the intensity emanating from him, and it both intrigues and intimidates you. Your heart races as you try to keep your composure under his unwavering stare.

His voice, a low growl, whispers,"Have I told you just how beautiful you look tonight?…I can't seem to tear my eyes away from you, even for a moment..”

You can feel his lips brushing against your neck, causing you to swallow nervously. "I can see that..."

His lips travel down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake. You feel his hot breath against your skin, sending tingles down your spine. He slowly takes your earlobe into his mouth, nipping it gently with his teeth.

“You should see yourself.. so beautiful and so deliciously tempting" he whispered between the kisses.

He reaches out and grabs your face, forcing you to look at him. His gaze travels over your features, focusing on your plump, red lips. A slight smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he considers you.

"You know what would be an exquisite accessory?" He says slowly, his voice low and tinged with a hint of mischief.

Staring into your eyes, his gaze filled with a fierce, almost primal desire, before his words slowly reach your ears. "A lipstick mark..made by you…"

"And where do you want it?"

He leans in, his face inching closer to yours as he takes in every detail of your features. With a gentle touch, he runs his thumb along your chin, observing your lips contour, before speaking again in a hushed tone.

"I want it right here.." He reaches up and taps his neck just below his left ear, his gaze never leaving your own, a silent request in his eyes.

"Are you sure? Because everyone at the event is going to see it.."

He grins, his eyes darkening slightly as he gazes at you, his hand still gently holding your face.

"That's exactly why I want it. So that every single person that looks at me tonight, knows that you're the one who put it there.."

As the tension between the two of you builds, the room seems to shrink, the only thing that matters is the desire that courses through you both. You realize that, for him, this is not just about the lipstick mark, it's about claiming him as your own, making sure that everyone who sees him will know that he is yours... and yours alone.

The certainty in his voice is undeniable, and you find yourself capitulating to his desire, knowing that you can't resist the pull of his unyielding gaze. As you lean in towards him, the room around you fades into the background, and you see only him, only this moment. Not as if you weren't already seeing only him.

His hand still caresses your face, guiding your lips towards the spot he had indicated. The soft texture of his neck meets the warm feeling of your coated lips.

The fragrance of his cologne mixes with the creamy texture of your lipstick. The touch of his hand on your nape grows firmer.

As you slowly pull away, you look back at his face and can observe his gaze shifting from the mirror back to your face. Was he looking at the moment through the mirror?

Sylus, however, seems to be lost in his own thoughts, a mix of satisfaction and desire in his eyes. A slow smirk appears on his face as he locks his gaze with yours, seemingly enjoying the sight of your slightly smudged lip.

He brings his hand up and slowly, gently, traces the outline of your lip with his thumb, his touch surprisingly tender in this moment.

"I have a proposition for you, sweetheart… I might be greedy.. I want more, but not in a place where everyone at the event can see..."

"The question is, are we still planning on attending that event?" you ask with a playful smile.

Sylus can't resist returning a grin, his gaze filled with mischief and desire. He leans in and pulls you closer to him, his arms encircling your waist as he speaks in a seductive tone.

"I don't think so ... not when there are much more... interesting activities at hand..”

Sylus doesn't waste any time. As soon as the words leave his lips, he grabs you and pulls you down onto the bed with him. He lands on his back, the impact of your body on top of his sending a thrill through his. He looks up at you with a sultry smile, his hands now roaming over your curves.

Sylus lays there, his shirt untucked from the impact, his chest lowering and raising in front of you. He looks up at you with a cocky smile on his face.

"Come on sweetheart, I know you can unbutton the shirt on your own... unless you want me to take this honor from you?”

You glance down at his chest, the muscles shifting beneath the fabric as he moves, and a fire ignites within you. With a fierce determination, you reach for the top button of his shirt and begin to unbutton it slowly. Each button undone, amplifying the tension between you two.

Sylus' eyes never leave your face as you continue to work on his shirt. The fabric slowly parts, revealing the smooth skin that lays beneath and the defined muscles.

You pause for a moment, your fingers hovering over his abdomen as you take a good look at the man beneath you.

A smirk playing at the corners of his mouth "Don't be shy … I know how badly you want to touch me..”

With a deep breath, you let your fingers trail lightly down Sylus' chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under your touch. You can feel his muscles flexing in response. His eyes, dark with desire, never leave yours.

Leaning in closer, you press your lips against his chest, just below his collarbone. The deep red lipstick leaves another mark against his pale skin.

You continue your journey, kissing a trail down his chest, leaving crimson marks as you go. Each kiss grows more insistent, more fervent. Sylus' hands are on your hips, his grip tightening with every press of your lips.

You move lower, feeling the tension build between you. His shirt is now fully open, exposing his sculpted torso to your eager mouth. You pause just above his navel, looking up at him through your lashes.

"How many more do you want, Sylus?" you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

"As many as you can give" he replies, his voice husky with desire.

With a playful grin, you rise from the bed and make your way to the vanity. You lean over the table, making sure to showcase your curves as you touch up your lipstick. Turning back to face him, you saunter towards the bed where he sits up eagerly, his eyes dark. With a confident hand, you push him onto his back and he lets out a low groan of both frustration and satisfaction at your eagerness.

He looks up at you, a smirk dancing on his lips. "Don't get me too riled up, sweetheart ... I might not be able to hold myself back.." he murmurs.

Your lips move lower, gliding along the lines of his abdomen with a possessive touch. Each kiss leaves a mark of passion, branding him as yours. The heat from his body envelopes you, filling your senses with desire that rolls off him in intoxicating waves. As you reach the waistband of his trousers, you lift your gaze to meet his.

Sylus stares down at you, his hair framing his hooded eyes, that are a dark red now, filled with an almost feral hunger.

“Are you trying to tease me?”

As he grabs you by your waist, Sylus flips you onto your back with a swift, fluid motion. He hovers over you, his gaze intense and unwavering. He traces the marks you've left on his body with a reverent touch, his eyes filled with a mix of admiration and obsession.

His hands come on your body next, roaming as if trying to memorize every curve, every dip. Without hesitation he slides his hand under your dress, running his fingers over your hip.

"You've marked me enough, sweetheart " he says, his voice deep and rough. "Now it's my turn."

He leans over, his lips finding the sensitive spot beneath your ear. His kisses are slow and purposeful, each one sending tingles in your chest.

Sylus continues to explore your body with his hands following his lips, discovering every inch of you. His touch sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, causing you to writhe and arch in response, craving for more. He pauses momentarily, his hands tracing the curves of your hips before he speaks, his voice heavy with desire.

“I will have you now”

Your breath hitches as his words send a surge of desire through you. You reach up and grab his face, pulling him down to meet your lips in a hungry kiss, meant to devour each other. The passion between you is undeniable, and you know that you are both ready to let go of everything else and just be in this moment.

Sylus breaks away from the kiss, his eyes burning with desire.

You open your eyes to look at him, but you can't hold back your giggles.

His expression turns serious. "What's so funny?”

“You have some lipstick on your lips... and around them…” you try to hold back another giggle.

As he registers your words, he runs his fingers over his lips. He looks down at his them and notices the red smudges. He frowns, trying to appear offended, but a grin involuntarily creeps onto his face.

"You're enjoying smudging me all with your lipstick, sweetheart?"

You simply smile and shrug, trying to play it cool. "I couldn't resist."

Sylus chuckles, the sound warm and deep. "You laugh about me sweetheart, but you don't see yourself right now…” he leans closer and talks with a deep rumbling tone, "You are not looking put together either”

With that, he leans down and presses his lips against yours, completely covering your lips with his. The kiss is slow and sensual, his tongue gently exploring your mouth as his hands begin to trace your body once more.

You can feel the passion building between you, and you know that there's no turning back now.

“Sylus“ you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

"What sweetheart?” He looks deeply into your eyes.

“Don't stop…” you beg, your voice barely audible.

A satisfied smile spreads across his face. “I wouldn't dream of it.”

I can make a part 2 if you guys want

[skullrockbi]

Eddie Munson’s Sex Dungeon, 636 words, rated T for language, Steddie fluff

===

Steve doesn’t always look at the tabloids, especially the ones about his husband. But this one caught his eye in the check out aisle. “Eddie Munson’s Sex Dungeon!”

Eddie having a sex dungeon was news to him. He picks the magazine up to read the article.

“We all know Eddie Munson is a dungeon master for Dungeons and Dragons, but rumor has it there’s another dungeon in this rocker’s life! In an exclusive interview with a close personal friend, details have been revealed of his basement sex dungeon.

‘Eddie asked me over to play a game, I didn’t realize what type of game he meant. I asked him about his partner and he told me I was too pretty to resist. I don’t want to be vulgar, but the night we had together was very passionate and kinky.’

The article included a picture of a woman’s hand being handcuffed by “Eddie.”  It was cropped to protect the source’s identity. Steve thinks if the source really wanted to remain anonymous she’d have a less distinct hair color. He knows those terrible and tacky highlights. The male hand closing around the metal had chipped black nail polish and one of Eddie’s signature rings. It was a convincing photo of you didn’t know any better. The unnamed source also shared a few snaps of the dungeon. Walls were covered in red drapery and there was a black velvet bench.

Steve refrains from cackling like a madman at the grocery store, but he can’t wait to bring this article home.

“Oh loverboy! Eds baby where are you?” Steve can’t help but use a sing-song tone of voice. 

“Sweetheart you don’t have to butter me up to help you bring in the groceries.” Eddie pulls Steve closer for a hello kiss. Steve starts to kiss all over Eddie’s face.

Eddie pulls him in for a deeper kiss before slightly pulling away. “I’m not letting the ice cream melt again.

They bring the groceries in and make sure all perishables are put away safely before Steve brings out the magazine. “Now Edward, is there something you need to tell me?”

He shows the cover proclaiming Eddie having a sex dungeon.

“Oh damn,” he replies deadpan. “The tabloids are onto my secret sex dungeon.”

Steve is giggling, “you have to read the article! Look at the pictures baby.”

“Is that my closet?”

“I mean we did have sex in there before.”

“Steve, this isn’t funny!”

“You’re right. It’s hilarious.”

Eddie throws the magazine on the table. “A stranger took pictures of my closet and is telling people I’m cheating on you.”

Steve points to the hair. “Not a  stranger.”

Eddie sighs, “I guess I need a new assistant again. Fuck.”

“You can worry about that tomorrow. Frankly I think right now what you need to do is take me to your sex dungeon and ravish me.”

“I can do that.” Eddie uses all his muscles to pick up Steve and throw him over his shoulder. “You can see my sex dungeon anytime sweetheart.” Steve chuckles breathlessly and smacks Eddie on the ass. 

Eddie tosses Steve on their bed and gazes adoringly at him for a moment. “Steve, you know I’d never cheat on you, right?”

“Baby, it was a silly tabloid story.”

“I know, but I just need you to know that I’m never going do that to you. I don’t like when those stories get published.”

Steve laces his fingers with Eddie’s and pulls him down. Steve presses a gentle kiss to Eddie’s lips. “I know you love me. Just like I love you. Now I was promised ravishing and a sex dungeon.”

Eddie gives his most cocky grin while pulling off Steve’s shirt and kissing the exposed skin. “Sweetheart when I’m done with you, you won’t be worried about our location.”

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Yayyy, congrats again on 2k!! 🥳🥂

If no one's requested the yet, I'd like to offer the following prompt for a drabble: Miguel O'Hara + “I can’t get enough of you.”

Please and thank you 💖

Good Girl

Professor!Miguel O'Hara x Stripper Student f!reader

Summary: Professor O'Hara visits his favorite student at the strip club.

Word Count: 1.4k+

Warnings: Language, smut, p in v, power imbalance? Student/ teacher relationship kinda. Reader is in college and is an adult.

Whitney! I hope you like this thing I wrote for you! It's totally different from what I'm used to but I really hope you like it <3

MDNI

...

“Back again so soon, Professor O’Hara?” You grinned, pressing your red-tinted lips to his ear. Your heels gave you an extra six inches of height, but you still had to balance on your toes if you wanted him to hear you properly over the blaring music.

“Miguel,” he corrected you with a grunt for the umpteenth time, “it’s been a while.” He towered over you, his lidded eyes regarding every inch of you. 

You had your makeup done all pretty that night, your eyes dusted in bright pink glitter, and your cheekbones colored with a rosy blush. Your outfit didn’t leave much to the imagination, but it made you look ravishing, a complete 180 to the baggy clothes you chose to wear to class most days. 

“It’s only been two days,” you giggled as he pressed your back against the edge of the rowdy bar, caging you in his toned arms. You batted your lashes up at him, admiring the way the club lights engulfed him in hues of purple and magenta, the contours of his handsome face sharp and intimidating in the dim light. 

“Had to see you again,” he muttered as you tugged on his loosened red tie to bring him closer, “you gonna deny me, muñeca?”

“Are you gonna give me an A in physics?” You shot back, tilting your head to take a good look at him, feigning innocence. He rolled his eyes but smirked, brushing a lock of your hair behind your ear.

“If you’re good,” he said, “I’ll see what I can do.” You beamed, pressing your lips to his cheek, leaving behind a red lip stain.

“I’ll be good, I promise,” you bit your lip, letting your pretty eyes do all the work, “won’t be late to class or anything,” Miguel growled, pressing his hips against yours, his growing bulge pushing hard against your thigh in anticipation. 

The weight of him felt good.

The stretch of his cock was even better.

“Hey, buddy!” One of the security guards bulldozed his way through the small crowd of eager men, placing a beefy hand on Miguel’s shoulder, “Get off the girl if you ain’t paying.” 

The security guard was tall but Miguel was taller, the latter turning menacingly to glare at him. The security guard shrunk back for a fraction of a second before standing his ground. “You know this wise guy?”

“Yeah, Joey, it’s okay,” you stepped between the two large men, “he’s a regular.” Joey narrowed his eyes, his bushy mustache shifting with the motion of his lips as he frowned. He sifted through the pages on his clipboard, running a finger down the crinkled page.

“You’re up to dance next.”

“Snowflake can go on for me,” you insisted, offering him your best smile, “Mr. O’Hara wants private time, okay? Go tell the boss.” Joey was fairly new and easily swayed with a nice tone and a pretty smile. For now. He paused, his eyes roaming over your figure before nodding, scribbling over the clipboard. He then stuck out his palm waiting for payment.

Miguel shoved a hand in the pocket of his very tight slacks, fishing out his wallet and slapping a couple of bills in the security guard’s hand. Joey shoved the clipboard under his arm, counting the money with greedy fingers. 

“You’ve got thirty minutes, buddy.”

“An hour, Joey,” you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest, “he gave you enough money for an hour.”

“Fine,” He finally said, glaring once more at Miguel, “an hour.” He repeated before swiftly turning on his heel, presumably heading to the boss’s office. 

You could feel Miguel’s burning rage as you pulled him by the hand toward one of the closet-sized private rooms, pushing him down to sit on the stained couch before whirling around to snap the curtains shut.

“I don’t like that guy.” 

“He’s new, professor.” 

You gasped when you felt Miguel’s thick finger slip into the waistband of your barely-there skirt, tugging you toward him before spinning you around to face him. He looked up at you, his eyes swirling with desire, so unlike the facade he had back at the university: stoic and unapproachable.

But you knew him, the real him—an intimidating physics professor by day, an absolute feral beast by night.

Snowflake was announced on stage before the crowd whooped and a new playlist began to screech through the speakers.

“I told you to call me Miguel in private,” he muttered, his voice almost drowned out by the obnoxious party music in the background.

“Sorry,” you said, eyes fluttering as he ran his heated hands up and down your exposed sides, fingers slipping under your silky floral bralette to press against the hidden skin, “It’s a habit, can’t help it.” 

Miguel hummed, pulling you forward to straddle his lap, your legs stretching over his thick thighs. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your fruity scent before licking a stripe up toward your jeweled ear. You moaned, tilting your head to allow him more access, grounding your hips expertly over his bulge. 

“Long day?” You sighed, relishing in the feel of his clothed cock bumping against your clit just right. You tugged on his tie again, removing it from over his head and tossing it to the carpeted floor before your hands fiddled with his dress shirt. A few buttons were popped open, exposing the tanned skin of his collarbone. 

“Had to grade quizzes.” He muttered into your skin, his hands now firmly planted on your hips.

“And you just had to come see me, hm, professor?” You teased, pressing your clothed cunt over his bulge a little harder, earning a hiss in your ear that shook you to your core. You whimpered when he pressed back just as hard, your thong now soaked with your juices.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he breathed, weaving his fingers in your hair and gently pulling your head back, “need to feel you.” 

“Yeah? I’ll give you what you want,” you grinned, your eyes heavy with arousal, “just wanna know one thing.”

“What is it?”

“Did I pass the quiz?”

Miguel snorted, “B+” 

“I passed!” You squealed, giggling when he rolled his eyes. “I knew I would!”

“You could do better.” He said, pulling down your bra to reveal your supple breasts. He immediately dived in, mouthing at your nipples, giving each one his undivided attention with gentle nips and sucks.

“I-I studied hard for that quiz, you know.” You threw your head back with a moan, continuing your sensual dance over him.

“Study harder.” He said in between sucks before licking up the crevice of your breasts, leaving a bright red love bite just under your collarbone. You whimpered, his tone filling you with arousal. Your hands flew to his belt, loosening it to get to what you craved the most. Miguel helped, lifting his hips for better access, hissing when you released his cock from his briefs and out of his slacks.  

“Maybe I’ll ask Mitch to tutor me sometime before the next quiz.” Miguel paused, sinking back down against the couch, an unimpressed look darkening his features.

Mitch was a fellow student. He sat next to you in physics and was Professor O’Hara’s best student.

“No,” Miguel answered, fisting his cock, “absolutely not.” 

“Why not,” you whined, rubbing your clothed cunt over his now-exposed dick, “I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“But I do,” Miguel growled, quickly shoving your thong to the side. He patted your ass, a signal for you to lift up your hips, before notching his tip at your entrance, “And you’re mine.”

He gripped your hips and brings you down, forcing you to take every inch of him. You both moaned simultaneously, your wet cunt swallowing him with ease. 

Miguel moves you at his pace, slowly at first, relishing in the sounds your sopping pussy made while taking him in. You were familiar with his body now, used to the stretch of him, the ache in your pussy when he was gone.

“Mm, you’re so big,” You whimpered, bouncing on his cock, “stuff me so good, professor.” Your words made him twitch inside you, his hips shifting up to thrust deep into you. 

“Fuck, so tight,” he groaned, head lolling to the side as his fingers dug into your hips viciously. His eyes were trained on your pussy, watching his dick slide in and out with ease, completely soaked with your juices.

You rode him for a bit, the muscles in your thighs tensing but you weren't planning on giving up, moving over him like your grade depended on it. Maybe it did. You weren't taking any chances.

Your release snuck up on you suddenly, quickly approaching as MIguel's cock hit something so devasting, you thought you'd pass out from the pleasure.

“Oh my god," you sobbed, your manicured nails biting into his shoulders through his shirt, "I’m—I’m gonna—”

“Be a good girl and cum on my cock.” Miguel’s words alone sent you over the edge, and a sob escaped you as you gushed all over him, your aching cunt fluttering over his length. You took a shaky breath, going limp against his chest as he continued to fuck into you.

“You did so good,” he panted in your ear, “did so good for me, hm?” His thrusts were sloppier now, hips jerking as he chased his own high.

“Get on your knees, muñeca,” he moaned, his eyes fluttering, “I'm 'bout to cum. You ready?” You nodded tiredly, quickly shuffling off him. The rough carpet dug into your knees as you opened your mouth, tongue out and ready to taste him. 

Miguel stood on shaky legs, cock in hand as he jerked himself to completion. He tapped his length twice on your tongue before you wrapped your lips around him, lapping at the swollen head. Within seconds he came, painting your throat with his spend.

“Fuck,” he groaned, head tossed back as he shoved his cock further down your throat. You choked a bit, the vibrations of your moans causing him to twitch in the warmth of your mouth. You pulled off him with a pop, licking your lips and peering up at him with wet eyes.  

“Was I a good girl?” You whispered, your eyes large and unblinking. His slacks were soaked with your cum but he ignored it, stuffing his cock away and adjusting his belt.

“Mhm,” he hummed, lifting you up with ease, “such a good girl for me.” You smiled, letting him fix your thong back in place and your breast back into your bra. He bent to retrieve his forgotten tie, but you snatched it from him, balling up the red silky fabric in your hand for safekeeping.

"It's mine now." You demanded, your thumb running over the smooth silk. Miguel chuckled, shaking his head before backing you up against the wall.

“Hour’s up!” Joey called from behind the curtain, giving the entryway a couple of knocks.

“Relax, pendejo,” Miguel yelled back, giving you one final glance, making sure you were presentable, “I’ll see you in class tomorrow, muñeca. Don’t be late.” 

“I won’t.” You promised, your eyes falling closed went he bent over you to peck your mouth. 

He smiled, resting his brow against yours, “Good girl.” 

[yawnderu]

Immortal She — Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader

For a broken man with nothing to cling to other than his job, obsession can start fast. All it takes is one glimpse at the divine passing figure in the dark forest, his mind taken away from the mission to simply admire how perfect she looks, ignoring all the red flags going off in his head. Red is the color of love anyway, isn't it?

No civilians were ever found in that area, and yet. He keeps getting glimpses of her in the most unlikely places, seeing her passing figure and cherishing the memories every single time he does. It's not often she shows herself to him— sometimes he doesn't see her for weeks or months, sometimes years, yet he keeps her memory alive, not terrified when he sees the dark shadow standing behind him in the mirror.

He's too scared to look away, too scared to blink in fears he won't see the object of his obsession, yet all he can see is her figure. Oh, how he wishes he could see more. How he wishes he could turn around and ravish her in the way he imagines in his restless dreams, praising and worshipping her like the goddess he knows she is.

Water is getting in his eyes from washing his face after waking up from a nightmare, yet he doesn't blink no matter how much it stings. He's been through so much worse, what's a little pain compared to the reward of seeing her figure whole for the first time ever? He's so in love he doesn't even flinch when the figure is suddenly behind him, long nails that resemble claws more than anything are gently patting his bare chest. She's so close, right under the light, yet she's still just a shadow. Just a shadow, until he can see the white of an eye staring back at him through the mirror.

He's so fucked. He's so fucked, not because she will hurt him, but because he can't help falling harder and harder. Is he hallucinating again like when he saw everyone with skulls instead of human faces? Is the brainwashing and torture from Roba still affecting his brain? There's no way— he hasn't hallucinated in years.

Slowly the shadows burn away from her body, revealing the bare figure of his obsession. His muse, which he has been drawing nonstop after shamefully asking Johnny to teach him how to use the pen and paper, perfecting it in no time just to be able to portray her as accurately as he sees her. It's still not good enough— someone like her deserves to be painted for years before it's half as accurate, ignoring all the blisters and blood in his hands, ignoring the fading scars and the new ones. He'd paint her in his own blood even if it takes all of it.

Her head tilts to the side and her lips part as if she's going to say something, yet not a single word comes out of her lips. He realizes she's cold to the touch. Cold to the touch and wet, as if he's being tenderly held by the genesis serpent itself. His hand hesitantly reaches up to hold hers, ignoring the way her claws cut deep into his hand, ignoring the way blood is running down his arm and falling to the floor with an almost delicious drip. He holds her hand for what feels like forever, unblinking as he stares at how perfect their figures look together, like a puzzle piece that has been missing for years.

He doesn't know when exactly he passed out, alone in bed and with no visible wounds. The only proof of her presence that night was leftover dirt in the entrance of his quarters, forming a tiny path towards his bathroom, stopping where they embraced each other.

Making a series of one-shots about this soon.<3

[hexbees]

buildup to dating draco headcanons! pt.2

a/n:: my own personal headcanons for draco! obvi you can think or feel however you want!

draco who shamelessly keeps a pack of hair ties in the potions classroom for you because you always forget to tie it up

"oh my gods, draco do you have a ha-" you'd groan out loud at your forgetfulness

"what color?" he'd hide the upturn of his lips, knowing he'd only bought apple green ones. it was on instinct; you look so good in green.

never catching an attitude, even when he is upset or annoyed with you.

"just please let one of us know next time you leave a party with someone." his eyebrows scrunched together.

"draco-" you'd sigh.

"we were worried, we couldn't find you. i just want to know you're safe." he'd shake his head, eyes watery from lack of sleep staying up waiting the night before.

"im sorry"

draco who lets you be yourself, with no judgement.

"granger sat next to me in the library! oh my god, she smelled so good. i think i'm in love, seriously." your head slamming down between your crossed arms in a huff.

"why don't you ask her on a date then?" he flipped the page he'd been reading, not even looking up.

"ugh, like she'd ever go out with me." you pout up at him.

"worst she can do is say no..." he'd finally look up, letting his head tilt a little while he thought. "or hex you. she scares me just a little."

getting fidgety with your affectionate touches, he swears you do it on purpose.

"can you stop moving?" you'd wiggle in your spot, exaggeratingly copying his movements.

"you're sitting on my lap, what do you expect me to do?" he'd grab at your hips to halt your wiggle.

"i don't know, let me be comfortable." you'd lean back against his chest with a slight huff. he'd immediately stop moving completely, even steadying his breath, in hopes you'd gain comfort and stay in his lap.

never letting you pay for anything for anything in shops.

"just a butterbeer please" you hadn't even looked at the shopkeeper, digging in your side bag for a coin.

"i got it" he'd place the payment on the counter faster than you'd even finished ordering.

draco who always stands off to the sidelines, watching your surroundings so you can enjoy yourself fully.

he noticed Cormac lingering behind you even after you had turned around and told him to piss off. "McLagen, go the fuck away."

"mate, come on. she looks so good, i just want to dance with her." Cormac would try to argue.

"she does look good, but not for you." he'd cross his arms and stand between you and the creep, cutting off his view of you without interrupting your own fun. you were completely oblivious to draco behind you now.

he can't stop the compliments from fumbling out of his mouth, no matter what you look like or where you were.

"you look ravishing, mon amour." he'd pass you a water bottle, smiling at your red skin and the hair stuck against it.

"i was just at practice. my hair is knotted and im sweaty, mon cher." you'd sneer at him, annoyed with your loss at a skirmish.

he'd smiled at your attempt to mock his pet name, but his heart would only swell "yes, i can see. you still look beautiful."

draco who can't, or rather doesn't care to, hide his feelings for you anymore.

"god, you're so in love with her, it's pathetic." blaise mocked him, watching him gaze at you reading a book across the room, none the wiser.

"oh please, its endearing and sweet." pansy would smile at him, patting his arm while his face rose into his own smile hearing you puff out a laugh at the page you were reading.

draco who finally confesses

"do you even realize how i feel about you?"

"what do you mean?"

"i mean, i'm in love with you. surely you've noticed."

"well i didn't want to assume-"

"my god, just please come on a date with me."

[hazeltailofficial]

HOLIDAY FLASHBACK

Rimmel London Exaggerate Automatic Lip Liner in 057 Ravish

hazeltail on youtube / hazeltailofficial on tiktok / hazeltailofficial on ig / @hazeltailofficial

[arcielee]

But you came over me like some holy rite.

Summary: Your husband seeks you out. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 2160 Warnings: Just some smut. Marital infidelity, mentions of Targcest, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, edging, Aemond being petty. Author's Note: Thank you @sylasthegrim for beta reading! 💜 This is the alternative ending to Only if for a night. that nobody asked for. Enjoy! Banners & dividers by @cafekitsune

You could not help how you glowed from the secret you now kept tucked behind your ribs and cradled against your heart. It was something precious, something intimate that you clung to until it felt as if it was rattling your bones beneath. 

This is how it had been since your night spent with the king, and you were quick to learn that Aegon was insatiable. He would slip into your quarters through passageways you had not known existed. He would ravish you until the blood streak of the rising sun peaked from the bay, spilling into your room, until your linen was soaked from the mixture of your perspiration and from the multiple peaks he craftily drew from you; you were spent with your blood rising to the surface, leaving you crimson and boneless, but with a blissful smile played on your kiss swollen lips. 

“This is our secret,” he would murmur into the crook of your neck, withdrawing his fingers from your pulsing warmth. His digits glistened with your release which he rubbed onto his swollen cockhead before shifting between your thighs and pressing against your entrance.

You moaned from the overstimulation, from the stretch as he sheathed within you, your body pliant and melding against his, your hips cant and rocking in tandem with his own. “It is our secret,” he rasped again, his lips moving to suckle your skin and leaving blooms of red in their wake.

Your handmaidens politely ignored them; they never mentioned these love bites that now littered your body, nor the post-coital scent that hung heavy on your sheets despite your husband being away on whatever errand commanded by his king brother. Your changed disposition could not help but be noticed by the courts with the rose flush to your features from your smile and the soft glimmer in your eyes.

Aegon was bold with his coy tactics whenever you were within arm’s reach, silently relishing in your reactions; his childish teasing, catching your fingers and bringing them to his mouth for a kiss. The touch would jolt through you, the softness of his lips rekindling a warmth in your core and spilling the red onto your features. 

Your scarlet hues would push him further–as Aegon was known to do–and he would place his wide palm on your lower back, leaning until his lips tickled your ear with his whispered compliments for you to hear alone. 

And you bloomed in response with every word spoken, every touch from the king. It slowly chipped away from the bitter memory of what had brought you two together, of how you caught your husband between the thighs of the queen. 

This bitter thought returned was soothed away by the hands of your handmaidens this night; they plaited your still damp hair to allow your curls to set overnight, then helped you dress in a silk nightgown and robe. You dismissed them, returning to your quarters, your slippered feet padding quick and quiet against the cobblestone with hurried steps to escape the night’s cool air flowing through the corridors of the Keep. 

You half expected to find your room empty, half hoping that perhaps the king would be awaiting you with his roguish, wine-stained grin, but instead you found your husband. 

Aemond was seated in one of the plush velvet chairs that faced the fireplace, its amber color casting shadows across his sharp features and pursed lips. His one arm was bent, his fingers pressed to the jut of his chin in contemplation while his other hand held onto a goblet that was filled with the Dornish wine your handmaidens would leave for your nightcap. 

“Good evening, ābrazȳrys.”

Wife. He did not look at you when he said his term of endearment, and you were aware of the acidity to his low timbre. “Lord husband,” and you forced yourself into the room, closing the door behind you. “I…was unaware that you had returned. I had not expected you tonight.” 

Aemond only hummed in response, peering down into the gilded cup before setting it on the end table. His every movement was fluid, precise, from how his long fingers wrapped around the armrests to push himself to stand upright, and turning on his heel to face you. 

Your breath hitched when you noticed that he was not wearing his eyepatch. You wished to fall back a step, away from his heady, bicolored gaze, but instead your arms knotted beneath your chest, pulling your robe tight over your curves and squaring off towards him. 

His expression was almost unreadable, perhaps amused or agitated, something that was precariously balancing on the edge of a blade. “I returned this evening. I thought it best to come and fulfill what is expected of us,” his low voice continued, his brow raised. “Ābrazȳrys.”

Oh. 

As man and wife, of course it would be expected that you two would continue to couple until the fruition of a silver haired babe. Aegon, however, had seen Aemond to be sent away, to serve as a diplomat for a neighboring kingdom which allowed you to be swept away with your royal dalliance. But you also assumed that when Aemond inevitably returned, that he would go back to Helaena’s embrace just as you found him on that fateful night. 

And with that the bitter thought returned with its muted vengeance, the vision of the glistening exertion across Aemond’s back and shoulders as he purposefully kneeled between the thighs of the queen–his sister–

You bit the inside of your cheek, a stilted shuddered response, your own thighs clenching as a warmth washed over you from his gaze, but your eyes dropped and you obediently moved towards the bed. The robe was discarded and fluttered to the ground, the mattress sinking with your weight as you climbed to lay back in your clean chemise and nothing more. You took a deep breath and then rucked the silk up around your hips. 

Your husband, if anything, had always shown consideration until completion since your wedding night. You had been informed of your fortune that his touch was never abrasive, but almost cautious, that he was mindful of your every small sound and how he would dutifully respond. It was enjoyable enough, a godsend in comparison to the hushed horrors shared amongst the ladies of the court… but this was before you learned of the passion that could be shared between the sheets. 

The blood rose to your features as you recalled that fateful night again and in detail, of what you had seen and what Aegon then showed you. You remembered the flutter of passion that trilled your spine watching your husband and how it emboldened you to dare kiss the king, that moment stemming from the torrid passion Helaena clearly felt, her voice echoing in your head…

“Aemond, Aemond, Aemond…” 

And now you laid, compliant and waiting for your husband to take his pleasure. There was a pregnant pause and your fingers played with the silk hem before your chin tilted to your chest to see Aemond at the end of the bed, his slender fingers quick to shed his upper layers. 

Your husband was handsome, it was undeniable, with the sinewy frame of muscle on his long and lithe form, the silver scars that decorated his alabaster skin that took a golden hue from the lighting of your room. His slacks hung low on his lips with lines that cut and disappeared beneath the waistline, where you could see the strain of his length outlined against the fabric. 

His hum brought your attention back to his steady gaze and you blushed while his satisfaction spilled into his perpetual smirk that always played on the curves of his lips. Aemond then reached forward until his large hands–even larger than his brother’s–wrapped around your ankles and he dragged you closer towards the edge of where he still stood. 

The movement jarred you and you could not help your startled noise, his name caught on your tongue, “Aem–” and you were burning from where his hands held you, from the fire in his veins.  

You were closer now, with your legs bent and knees up, your feet pressing to anchor you from falling over the edge. The air was cool against your cunt shown and Aemond tilted his head to take in the sight, another appreciative hum at your lewd display. His hand moved to one of your knees, and he leaned over with the spill of silver that curtained both sides of his face, his eye careful to watch your reaction as his other hand moved between your thighs. 

His touch elicits a soft noise from you, his gentle touch at your entrance where your wetness pooled allowing him to glide upwards towards the bundle of nerves that bloomed above. You bit your lip to muffle yourself, but Aemond was still peering at you, his lips curling upwards with how your body was responding.  

“W-what are you doing?” You are breathless with your question.

There is a glint, an emotion that plays across his face, something fleeting that comes and goes with your heart beat, its rapid pace growing with his ministrations. “I am only fulfilling my marital duties,” his low timbre answered you.

Your blood now boils in your veins, the rising reds to your skin showing, though your features are frozen from his deliberate choice of words. Your heart is now bruising against your ribcage as you recalled the exchange you had with the king, his pitying tone when he asked you:

“Is your husband not fulfilling his marital duties?” 

You had said nothing then, and you are quiet now until another gasp steals your breath as Aemond’s fingers map between before his lips follow. You press up to your elbows for the sight, the blanket of silver that shimmers with his motion as his hot mouth consumes you. You fall back again, fistfuls of linen, and your pleasure building at the base of your spine, the sparks that flutter to and from your nerve endings, and your thighs begin to tremble as it pushes against your seams. 

There is a pressure as his slender finger curls within, another that follows in tandem with the come hither curl pushing against that sweet spot and stars burst before your vision. You are breathless, tears pearling and spilling at the corners of your eyes with each crest of pleasure and you only wish to cry out, a sobbed release.

And he stops, still knuckle deep in your warmth, your cunt clenching in desperation for your release. “Not yet, ābrazȳrys,” and his exhale against the wetness causes you to shudder. 

You whimper at the dull ache left as he withdraws his digits, his hand pushing to stand and freeing his member over the loosened waistband. Your eyes widen at the sight, its heavy sway as he moves to climb and his simultaneous, languid pumps from his hand that glistens with your arousal. 

The bed dips. “Please, Aemond–” you beg, you gasp again with his weight on top of you, slotting himself between your legs, and you can feel him pressed against the inside of your thigh. 

His elbow presses by your head, his hand covering your mouth to shush you while the other moves between to line himself with your entrance. Your gasp is muffled against his palm, your nails biting into his shoulders as his hips rock to sheath fully into your wet cunt. 

Your walls still pulse from your deprived release and his head dips into the curve of your neck, a low groan against your skin. Your impatience spills, lifting your legs to knit around his slender waist and pulling him closer; he responds, rutting against you, a solid pace that pounds into you, until his hip bones begin to bruise against your skin. 

You writhe beneath him, his thrusts stoking your passion anew and your blood rushing to intimately stain your body. You feel the pleasure pulling at your core, unbridled, and your velvet walls flutter again…

And Aemond pulls away, snapping back with such force to break the hold of your legs around, his hand coming to pump his length until ropes of pearly spend spill onto your stomach, your thighs, your silk still bunched around your upper body. 

You choke on your frustration, your vision blurred as you push to your elbows once again, chest heaving. “Aemond,” your exasperation pours from you, choked on the tears that brim. 

Aemond is wordless as he tucks himself away and grabs for his shirt and tunic; his slender fingers are just as quick to dress again, albeit a bit disheveled with the muss of his silver hair spilling over his shoulders. 

He then looks at you, his jaw clenches and then relaxes as his perpetual smirk returns. “Perhaps you should ask our devoted king to sate your appetite, ābrazȳrys.”

And then he leaves you, bare and alone.

arcie's masterlist

Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @aemondx @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lauraneedstochill @snowprincesa1 @hb8301 @lovelykhaleesiii @darylandbethfanforever9 @namelesslosers

[beansprean]

Except they all look good, damn.

(ID in alt and under cut, ref under cut)

ID: 1. Colin, Nandor, Laszlo, and Guillermo standing in a line against a wall with patterned wallpaper, wearing drag. Colin has on a drab 70s businesswoman look, with a plaid knee length skirt, beige blazer with shoulder pads, a cream silk blouse with a neck bow, a single string of pearls, a flat cap with a feather, cat eye glasses, subtle makeup, and a shoulder length brown feathered wig. He is holding a brown leather clutch in one hand and standing up straight, staring. Nandor has on a sleeveless brick-colored turtleneck with a heart shaped cutout at the chest, a thick brown belt, leather miniskirt, dark gray stockings helps up with garters, two gold bracelets, and gold hoop earrings. His hair is down, curled into big waves, and he has dark dramatic eye makeup on with dark red lipstick. He is grinning seductively at the viewer, hands clasped in front of him demurely with his butt angled out. He didn't bother shaving his legs or chest for this, as a treat. Laszlo is dressed in a pale pink silk nightie with a bit of ruffle at the neckline making up both thin shoulder straps. He has a long string of pearls and glittery dangly earrings, his hair is swept back from his forehead, and he is wearing soft dusky pink eyeshadow with baby pink lipstick. He smiles at the viewer like they're his good lady wife come to ravish him, strap falling off one shoulder, that hand gliding up his opposite arm demurely as his free hand clutches the material of his nightie to pull it up his angled thigh. Guillermo stands with arms crossed, looking self conscious, wearing a green v neck sweater over a collared shirt and pleated miniskirt. He is wearing his normal glasses and pantyhose but no visible jewelry, and has on a dark wig with shoulder length curls and bangs. His makeup is not overly heavy but well done: a shimmering brown over his eyes and a dusky reddish-pink on his lips, expertly lined to bring out their shape. Overlaid on the image, each man's face is circled in red. Text pointing to Colin and Laszlo reads "doing it for the bit (world's dullest drag show and secksy roleplay, respectively)". Text pointing to Nandor reads "doing it for the bit but looks good doing it (discovering things about himself)". Text pointing to Guillermo reads "that is a woman. (guy who's good at everything)"

2. Original version of this image; a photo from the 80s of the band Queen wearing similar drag, with text overlaid pointing to john deacon and bryan may saying "doing it for the bit", pointing to freddie mercury and saying "doing it for the bit but looks good doing it", and pointing to roger taylor and saying "that is a woman" /end ID

[daydream-cement]

Across the Room (NSFW)

Jane Murdstone x Reader

Lust at first sight when Jane spots you from across the room.

Author's Note: This is the fourth week of Smutember with @alexusonfire! The prompt was lust at first sight and who better for this prompt than sweet Janey.

You felt her burning gaze on your body all night. You have heard stories of Jane Murstone. Stories of her cruelty... and murmurings of her preference for the fairer sex. These quiet rumors had been told by your past lovers, and from the way Jane was watching you, she must have heard the same stirrings about you.

The party was big enough that no one would notice Jane and you eyeing one another. Her raven hair was pinned back so neatly and her pursed lips would shift ever so slightly when she smirked. She wore a gorgeous red gown - a shade of deep, dark crimson that was certainly clouding your judgment more than the spiked punch.

Your eyes watched her intently through all of her conversations and movements. It wasn’t until an acquaintance broke your train of thought that you lost sight of the beautiful ravenette. When you glanced over your chatty friend’s shoulder, Jane had moved from her earlier spot causing you to shift from foot to foot to search for her. 

A commanding voice from behind startled you from your search for Ms. Murdstone, “Pardon for my intrusion…”

When you spun around to see who was speaking, you had to turn your gaze upwards when you were met with the sight of a chest of a woman covered in crimson fabric. Your eyes traveled her face Your lips parted slightly to suck in a breath - her beauty from up close left you speechless.

Jane’s eyes journeyed over you. Her gaze seemed so critical, but by the glint in her eye you knew she liked what she saw. A smile growing on her lips only further confirmed your suspicions that she had sinful intentions behind her words and movements.

“I was told by a mutual friend that we share a love of needlework.” Jane’s hand rose to rest on your arm, thumb brushing the inside of your elbow, causing chills to run down your spine. “Would you care for a walk?”

“Yes-” Your answer came far too quickly, so you had to deliberately slow yourself down so as to not seem too desperate for her attention. You spoke to Jane before turning to your acquaintance, you gave an apologetic smile, “I would like that very much. Apologies. I’ll see you later, hm?”

Jane held your elbow as she guided you through the crowd, her voice low and thick like honey, “I do love your dress, sweeting. The fit is absolutely divine...”

“This color on you is ravishing, but I could certainly do with less fabric.” You return at a volume low enough for only Jane to hear. 

You knew where this was headed. There would be no grand romance tonight. Jane’s grip on your arm was proof of that. She was only interested in the anatomy that lay under your skirts, and you weren’t opposed to hiking up your dress in some darkened corner for this beautiful ravenette. 

“Such a wicked imagination you have.” Jane growled as she led you away from the dancing and socializing towards a garden dimly lit by lanterns every fifty feet or so. When Jane passed her own acquaintances, she looked from them and then to you with a concerned expression, “Poor child was feeling faint and in need of fresh air.” 

It was hard to act out your fictional illness as Jane’s white lie pleased you greatly. You were able to shoot her friends a sad look before dropping your gaze to the floor so they couldn’t see how pleased you were with your current situation. 

Once out of the manor, Jane tugged at your arm as she strode towards a bench seated against the home in a delightfully darkened area. If you weren't mistaken, you would have nearly a half hour to return to the party lest you are missed and someone were to come looking. 

Jane gestured for you to sit and you did as you were told, grinning widely as she seated herself so your thighs were touching. 

“You seem to have an issue with staring.” Jane chided - her tone seemingly harsh while the smirk on her lips told a different story. 

Your reply was simple, “You are quite beautiful.” 

Jane was pleased with your response as she inched closer, looming over you in a way that made your heart race. Her voice was a low and silky, “Flattery will get you everywhere, my dear.” 

“I’ve heard stories about you, Ms. Murdstone... of your power over women.” Your words were a question if Jane would do the same to you disguised as a simple statement of fact. You would feel honored to have her slender fingers dip between your thighs to take you to heaven and back. 

Jane’s face inched closer. Her one hand sliding over the back of the bench while the other reached over you to grip the arm rest, effectively pinning you into the corner. “Would you care for a sampling?”

She wasn’t truly asking. Her lips dipped down to yours before you could even respond. You moaned upon contact. Her lips were so incredibly soft and you weren’t but a few seconds into your kiss when Jane’s hands seized your hips and her body shifted to lean against yours. 

The odd angle of your back pressing into the wood would have been more agonizing, but Jane’s hand sliding up your chest over your breast drove you wild. She paused for a moment to cup your breast through your corset, her finger tips gracing the top of your breast where it lay exposed. All of her hand movements preambled something so much more pleasurable and you felt your heat dampening in response. 

Her hand slipped in the waistband of your underwear, her fingers wasting no time dipping into your folds. You sucked in a breath as Jane made contact with your clit while Jane exhaled slowly. “Oh, darling...” 

Your eyes glued themselves to Jane’s face, watching her every expression as her fingers explored your cunt. In an instant her fingers slipped from your heat as she drew them up to her mouth and tasted you with a long overzealous moan. Her eyes focused on yours for an intense moment as her tongue swirled around her digits. She wanted you to see how much she loved your taste. 

“Open.” Jane ordered as she transferred her fingers from her mouth into yours. The taste of yourself was faint, but you were more so aroused with the knowledge that Jane’s saliva was on your tongue. 

Jane watched you with darkened eyes. Her words made you feel as if she would consume you, “I’ve heard about you, darling. A maid and a cook in my home have told me about your wandering hands and talented tongue. When I saw you, I knew I needed to try you out for myself.” 

The ravenette pulled her fingers from your mouth and down they went again to play with your throbbing cunt. She found your clit with ease and began rubbing slow, methodical circles. To silence yourself, you attached your lips to hers - an action Jane accepted happily as her tongue traveled across your bottom lip before swiping across your tongue.

Your mind was clouded from desire. You couldn’t think of anything other than her hand between your legs. Any thoughts of being caught with Jane were absent. 

Her fingers moved faster around your clit. The ravenette knew you were limited on time and she wasn’t looking to extend out the orgasm by teasing you. 

Jane snaked her spare arm around the back of your neck, drawing your body to hers, and all the while her mouth never left yours. Your hips were writhing and bucking against her hand, desperate to come. 

She increased the pressure against your clit and you could hear the faint slick sounds of her fingers working against you. These sensations combined with the sloppy, intense kisses from Jane drove you over the edge. The ravenette swallowed your cries and quickly pulled her hand from your bloomers, not wanting to be seen in such a compromising position. 

Jane pulled away from the kiss and smirked down at you as her fingers pushed past her lips once again. You watched helplessly as she sucked her fingers clean. 

When she was finished she reached out and grasped your cheeks with a hand, tugging you close. With a wide smile, her tongue darted from her mouth and she licked your lips, delighted in the power she held over you. 

“That’s a good pet. We should probably return to the party before some notice our absence.”

“Indeed.” You murmur, slightly disappointed when she withdraws her hand and stands. 

You stood on wobbly legs and followed suit, trailing after her like a love struck puppy. Before you could draw too close to the manor entrance, Jane paused and waited for you. Her demeanor was significantly brighter than when you saw her roaming the party beforehand. 

“Would you care for tea tomorrow afternoon, darling?” Jane whispered, her teeth nipping at your ear. Her hand shifted from the small of your back to palm your ass through your gown. “We could continue our conversation.”

“Sounds divine, miss. I’ll have the opportunity to return the favor.” You coo before leaving a lingering kiss to the corner of her lips and leave her standing in the darkness of the gardens. 

Taglist: @charymobile, @bri-sonat, @smutuniversesblog, @opheliauniverse, @renravens, @whenyouhaveanobsession, @scream-queenlover, @mcufanisme, @peanutbutterprincess, @myzzjolanda, @principal-weems09, @imlike-so-gaydude, @xuukoo, @brienneswife, @dumbasslesbi, @giogwensversion, @milciak, @gela123, @thevillagegay, @katiemcgrathsbitch1, @naomi-m3ndez, @mysaviorfalsegod, @salems-spaghettios, @imgayforwoman69, @bychrissi, @h-doodles, @alexusonfire, @weemssapphic