#halter neckline dress

[anmolsmsblog]

Dokotoo Womens Sun Casual V Neckline Long Sleeve Open Back Floral Print Mini Dress Bohemian Fashion Skater A Line Ruffle Hem Beach Dresses White Medium

Price: (as of – Details) Dokotoo Womens V Neckline Long Sleeve Open Back Leopard Print Mini Dress Package Dimensions ‏ : ‎ 29.59 x 25.91 x 6.5 cm; 180 g Date First Available ‏ : ‎ 10 January 2020 ASIN ‏ : ‎ B07TSJPHXB Item model number ‏ : ‎ DA220829-1-M Department ‏ : ‎ Women Item Weight ‏ : ‎ 180 g

[lunss-couture]

Beaded Lavender Spandex and Feather Sexy Black Girl Dress 

Beaded lavender spandex mermaid sexy black girl pageant prom dress. Featuring a bold halter but plunging neckline, embellished with beads on the illusion cut-out bodice and complimented with a feathered hem long train.

[hopefullyababe]

OMG two ppl just walked by wearing the prettyest sundresses ive ever seen in my life omg omg

[perdidit-vulpes]

... WAIT DOES THAT MEAN.

[righoul]

【Ｍｉｄｎｉｇｈｔ　Ｗｈｉｓｐｅｒｓ】

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

summary: it's your best friend's birthday, and she wants to go out to the club. you're not much of a party girl, but you do it anyways because you love her like a sister. it's a good thing you went, especially if it's a certain someone who can't keep his eyes off of you 😉

this kinda takes place in x-men origins: wolverine. that movie will always have a special place in my heart idc. also, I had a dream about this last night

warning: SMUT! 18+ MDNI. age gap, oral sex (f! receiving), cursing, unprotected PiV (don't be silly, wrap that willy), drinking, dirty talk, logan being kinda vocal, wingman!wade wilson, size difference, mention of anxiety (because mental health matters), praise kink, nicknames used: baby, darling, sweetheart, princess

words: 4.0k

Your best friend practically drags you through the mall as she makes a beeline to the dress store. What's the occasion, you may ask? It's her birthday today and she wants to go to a party at a club. You dread it, but if she is happy, you'll let down your antisocial wall. She's been begging on her hands and knees for you to come out and live your life. You hate crowded places, and you would much rather be in the comfort of your own home, in your sweatpants and tank top with a cozy cardigan and your hair in a messy bun while reading another Johanna Lindsey book. Is it cliché? Yes. Is it almost predictable? Fuck yes, but you love it anyways. You may call yourself a hopeless romantic, but your friend is right. You need to get laid ASAP. 

While you were mindlessly going through all the various dresses on the clothes rack, your friend pulled you away as she already made some selections for you. "Come on, try these on!" she exclaims. Some of them are not bad, but others are just damn right ugly or not your style. As you are about to enter the changing room, you hear the one voice that could only mean one thing. Your best friend’s boyfriend. “Oh, sweetie pie!” Wade announces in a singsong tune. Oh, great. You don’t necessarily hate Wade, he treats your best friend well and she’s taken well care of, sure, but this day was supposed to be just the two of you. 

“Hi, baby!” she squeals as Wade comes up to her and gives her a big old kiss in the mouth. Hey, God, it’s me again, you thought as you looked up at the ceiling. You close your eyes for just a few seconds to gather yourself and you look at the handsome pair. “Hey, Wade, it’s good to see you again.” You struggle to put the words together, but nonetheless, you put on a fake smile just to keep your friend happy. “It’s good to see you too,” he pulls you into a tight bear hug, cutting off your blood flow. “Oh, sorry, I’m just so excited to be here. I can’t miss out on this special day with my special girl.” He’s like a lovesick puppy. There was just something about Wade that made you be suspicious about him from the very beginning. He’s always gone, he doesn’t tell you or your bestie where he is or what he does. There was something off about him. Almost as if he’s living a double life. “Oh, honey!” your friend squeals again, giving him another open mouth kiss. Gross. 

“Well, while you guys catch up, I’m going to go ahead and try these on.” You mumble as you hold up a pile of dresses in your arms. Off to the dressing room, you go. 

The first dress you try on was a shiny, metallic gold halter top dress that stops at the mid thighs. On the front, it gives a deep V-neckline, making it hard to cover your breasts. It has slits on both sides, stopping at the waist and it is backless, curving at the bottom and stopping at the top of your ass. Sure, it was cute, if you were planning on being a stripper. You try on the next dress. Now, this one was cute, and you thought about saying yes to it just to get this over with. But you thought about it for a second longer and realized you’re going to be dying in it. It was black mesh sequin dress that barely covers your ass, and it had flare sleeves that are see-through. Last thing you want is to have sweaty armpits, causing the dress to have pit stains for the rest of the night. No, thanks. Next one. Too girly. Another one. Makes you look pale. The one after that. Cute, but not ideal for clubbing. Another one. This looks more like a prom dress than anything. You’re about to give up until you notice the last dress. You try it on, and lo and behold, this dress was the one. It is a dark green sequin mini dress that stops at mid-thigh with a sweetheart neckline with an adjustable skinny strap. Perfect.

You change back into your normal clothes, not even bothering to show it off to your best friend. Besides, she’s too busy with her boyfriend, practically eating each other’s faces. You made your way to the cash register, and you made your purchase. You thank them and make your way back to your friend and Wade, hopefully she got the hint that it was time to go. “Oh, you got a dress?” your friend asks. “Which one did you end up picking?” “You’ll see.” You reply mischievously with a little wink. She’s surprised about your remark, but she quickly brushes it off. Little did you know, while you were trying on all the dresses she picked out, her and Wade were conjuring up a plan. Wade was telling his girlfriend about his friend that he can set up with you. Well, he’s not exactly a friend, per se, but a fellow acquaintance of his. They work together, sure, but he’s kind of a grump. Now there’s just one problem. Wade hasn’t even talked to him about hooking up with you. Now that is going to be the tricky part. 

“You think you can bring your friend along?” your friend asked. “Oh yeah, he’ll come.” Wade responded. Your friend was constantly looking over in your direction while you were in the changing room, hoping to not get caught by you. “What if this plan fails?” “Baby, it’ll work.” Wade puts his hands on her shoulders, soothing her. “I’ll make sure to see to it. Besides, he’s not a bad guy. Sure, he’s a little rough around the edges, but it’ll be good for him. For both of them.” Your friend lets out a deep sigh. “Okay. I trust you. But if this plan doesn’t work, you owe me big time.” She jammed her pointer finger at his chest harshly and Wade laughed, but he knew deep down inside, she scares him and that’s what he loves about her. She keeps him grounded, and he always makes sure to fulfill his promises.

*Later that night*

You put on your brand new dress that you bought and you put on a pair of black high heels to go along with it. Meanwhile, your friend put on a baby pink dress with puffy sleeves and white heels that wrap around the calves. She put on some subtle makeup while you put on a smoky appearance. Her hair was done in loose curls in a half low ponytail with a white bow and your hair was done straight as a pencil. When you walked out of your bedroom, your friend was surprised to say the least. She claimed that you look like a totally different person, but you brushed it off. You didn’t think she was being serious and you assumed she was just being nice because you both knew this isn’t like at all. But, she was right. You did look amazing.

You and your friend got there at the club, scanning to find Wade. You thought it was kind of weird that he didn’t pick you guys up at your place, but you dropped it pretty quick. You guys grabbed your drinks from the bar and went out to the dance floor. You were honestly having a good time. You felt so free. So liberating. Normally, you would feel anxious in large crowds like tonight, but with the help of some liquid courage, that all subsided. Wade finally came down to the dance floor and greeted your best friend with a kiss on the cheek.

“Happy birthday, baby!” Wade shouted over the loud bass of the music.

“Thank you!” your friend shouted back.

“Thanks for stopping by!”

“Yeah, of course, Y/N! I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

As you were about to throw back on your drink, your cup was empty.

“Hey! I’m about to get myself a round two! Did you want anything?” you asked your friend.

“I’m still working on mine! But, thank you!”

“I’ll be back!”

You sauntered your way back to the bar again and asked for the bartender.

“Rum and Coke, please.” you ordered your drink to the tall man behind the bar.

“You got it, miss.” he winked at you.

You felt flatter for the gesture, but you knew deep down you wouldn’t pursue it. Ever since you guys walked into this place, you had men staring at you nonstop. You felt like an innocent fawn in a den full of lions, greedily licking their lips and wanting to get a piece of meat out of you. All the barstools were taken up by men, and now that there was a pretty woman in their proximity, they all of a sudden didn’t know how to think with their heads, but with their dicks. All eyes were on you tonight. The anxiety was about to creep up to your throat to the point it felt hard to breathe. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. You should’ve stayed at home.

“That would be $5.50, miss.” the bartender smiles.

You were about to reach for your bag when you felt a large hand on your lower back. You looked over who it was, but looking over at the man to your right knocked the wind out of you. He was ruggedly handsome. He has dark brown hair that was done messily with mutton chops to go along with his fluffy hair. He wore dark blue jeans with a belt to hold it up to his hips, a pair of boots, a white wife beater, flannel, and a dark brown leather jacket to complete his bad boy exterior. 

“I got it, darlin’,” the stranger looked at you, smugly. “don’t worry ‘bout it.”

You were just stunned, you didn’t know what to say. This man was so dangerously handsome, you’ll do anything to keep this man’s attention on you. But, remember what your friend taught you. Never chase after a man. If he wants you that badly, walk him like a dog. And you intend to do that.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” the man bent over to your right ear and said with his cockiness, “use your words.”

Shit, shit, shit. So much for taking the reign.

“Oh, um.. thank you.” you replied sweetly.

“Attagirl.” 

Oh, so he wants to play that game. Well jokes on him, you can play along too. You have read so many scenarios where this plays out, it’s time to use that playbook. There was a spot that was available and the handsome fellow sat down, but still maintaining that contact with you.

“What’s your name, darlin’?”

“Y/N. What’s yours?”

“The name’s Logan.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

You didn’t know if it was the drink or you feeling bold, but you made your way to Logan and sat on his lap. His eyes widen and his jaw a little slacked, but quickly bounces back to his usual smug face before you could appreciate your small little victory. Your legs were across his laps and you kept your legs crossed on top of the other, giving Logan an aweing view of your scrumptious thighs. He had one hand placed on the small of your back, dangerously close to your ass and the other hand was resting outside your knee, rubbing small circles with his thumbs,

You guys have been talking and flirting for about 30 minutes, and everything was going so smoothly for tonight. There was a small part of you that didn’t want this night to end, but there was that sinking feeling that you felt that this was going to be a one time experience and you’ll never see him again. Your hand was resting at the nape of his neck, giving him light scratches. Logan let out some low purrs. He loves the way that you’re giving him all this attention from a pretty thing like yourself. But he had this gnawing feeling that he shouldn’t do this to you. You were so young and naive, you never really got to experience life to the fullest. He promised a friend that he was going to hook up with a girl that he knew, get acquainted and maybe get something more out of it. Possibly a relationship. But Logan knows that never comes easily with him. Everyone that he ever loved dies in the end. You were just so sweet and innocent. He couldn’t put you through that. 

“Say, wanna get out of here?” Logan asked.

At first, you were hesitant. Wasn’t this what you wanted? I mean, yes. Look at him. This man is built like a god. You didn’t want to ditch your friend on her birthday to go sleep with some guy. But then again, you’ve been gone for a while and she didn’t seem to notice you. So, fuck it. 

“Yeah, sure.” you replied.

You got off his lap and Logan got off his seat, and he walked you out of the busting night club. You both decided to go to your apartment where you were most comfortable. Logan didn’t seem to mind. It was probably for the best since your apartment is probably nicer than his and he wanted to make sure that you were comfortable. A gentleman, I know. You fished for your keys in your purse and let yourselves in. 

“Please, make yourself at home.” you exclaimed. “Can I get you something?”

“You got any beer?” Logan asked.

“I got Budweiser. Is that okay?”

Logan would’ve died on the spot. It’s almost as if you were made for him. Like he drew a mental picture of you and manifested it. 

“Now we’re talking.”

You giggled at his response and went to the fridge to grab two bottles. If Logan almost died from you knowing his favorite beer, he would’ve melted from your lovely laugh. You truly were made from him.

You both settled on the couch and facing each other, you both went back to talking from the last conversation at the bar. Logan, resting his arm behind the couch while nesting a bottle while you were curled up, tucking your feet behind you and resting a hand on your chin, honing in everything and digesting every word that comes out of his mouth. 

“So, what was a pretty thing like yourself at a bar?” Logan asked.

“Oh, the funny thing is it’s my friend’s birthday and we were out celebrating.” I chuckled softly. “I guess she’s still there with her boyfriend so I don’t feel too guilty.”

Logan chuckled roughly. “Ah man, I’m sorry to drag you away.”

I waved my hand at him nonchalantly. “It’s not a big deal, really.”

After chatting again for about 15 minutes, you noticed that Logan is sitting closer and closer to you. For a moment, you forgot how to breathe because of how handsome he is. His lips were so close to yours, you could almost taste him. You caught him stealing a few glances down your chest, mentally undressing you, but you don’t seem to mind.

“Fuck, you look so beautiful tonight.” Logan whispered huskily.

You automatically placed your hand on his chest, chests basically touching.

“You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.” I whispered seductively. “Mind taking me out of this dress?”

Logan’s heart stopped for a moment when you asked him so bluntly. Of course, he wasn’t going to pass this opportunity. So he reached behind you and unzipped your dress. He gently laid you back on the couch as you moved to take off his flannel shirt. He slowly pulled your straps down one by one, as he was taking his sweet time with you, trying to memorize every little thing about your body. Logan finally slipped your dress off of you and the only thing standing in his way is your black lace thong.

“Fuck.” Logan shuddered a groan.

You tried to cover yourself, but Logan took one of his hands and pinned both your wrists above your head.

“Don’t get all shy now with me.” Logan growled. “I wanna see it all.

I whimpered at his rough exterior and wrapped your legs around his waist. He purred in approval.

“Logan…” You moaned. “Let me touch you.”

Logan chuckled darkly as you begged and whined while you’re getting super soaked in your panties, it was leaving wet spots in his pants. He pressed his hard on your heated, needy pussy. You whimpered at the contact, arching your back, hoping to feel him.

“Ahh, pretty baby wants to touch me?” Logan teased.

You nodded your head and he laughed. He leaned down and started sucking your neck, leaving hickeys and love bites at its wake. You begin to moan, and he chuckles darkly as he’s leaving kisses down between your breasts. Logan sat up straight to remove his shirt and undo his belt. He slipped his pants and boxers down, and went down to come face to face to your pussy. He left a little kiss on your clothed pussy and you whimpered while arching your back so far, it almost didn’t look natural. He chuckled how reactive you are to him and he’s enjoying every bit of it. He went to pick you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He placed his hands on your ass, and leaned in for a kiss. You kissed him back happily as you took his face with your hands and you both moaned, fighting for dominance.

“Where’s your room, sweetheart?” Logan asked.

“First door on the right.” You moaned in his mouth.

He then leads you both to your room, still kissing you. As you both entered, he placed you on the bed as he crawled down on you. He forgot you still had your underwear on, so he ripped it off of your body. You gasped, not from ruining it but at how he ripped it off with ease.

“Sorry, princess. It was getting in the way.” Logan muttered and then he quickly went down to eat you out. You arched your back as you gripped the bed sheets. He placed his hand down on your lower stomach to hold you down. “Don’t move.” He growled as he looked up at you.

You fought your hardest to remain still. Logan went back to eat your pussy like a starved man, and you moved your fist to your mouth, biting back some moans. “Nah uh, I wanna hear you. I want this whole apartment to hear how good I’m makin’ ya feel.” Logan said roughly. You nodded your head as he went back to devouring his desert. You moaned loudly, it almost sounded pornographic and he chuckled darkly. “That’s it, darlin’. Attagirl.” He praised you. “Logan, I’m so..” You said sultry. “Go ahead. Come for me.” At demand, you did and you were starting to see white after this euphoric sensation and you were starting to come down from your high.

“On your hands and knees.” Logan demanded. You did as you were told and he purred at how easy you were to please. He’ll keep this in mind. He climbed behind you as he gripped your ass close to his hardened dick. He slowly smoothed your backside with one hand and he bent down to your ear, his cold dog tags touching your bare back, making you shiver. “Let me know if it gets too rough for ya.” Logan whispered sweetly. All you could do was nod your head. “I need words, sweetheart.” “Yes. Yes, I’ll let you know if it gets too much.” Logan smirked. “Attagirl.”

Logan then eased the tip of his cock into your heated entrance, and began to gasp heavily. “Oh, fuck.” You moaned and Logan chuckled. “Easy, princess, just breathe.” He slowly went inch by inch, feeling his length and his girth. It then becomes easy for you, going from painful to pleasure. Going from losing your breath to moaning into a hot mess. Logan began to pull back and slammed it back in. You jumped forward at the brutal force and you moaned in…pleasure? Pain? Honestly, who cares? It feels too good to stop. He kept pounding into you, starting to hit your cervix over and over again.

“Fuuuucck.” Logan growled as he looked up into the ceiling for a hot minute. He went to look back down as the relentless pounding is matching the rhythm to your ass bouncing back to his cock, making wet slapping noises. “You’re gonna be the death of me, princess.” You giggled at his comment as you turned your head at an angle to get a good look at him. Logan bent down again to kiss you on the lips, moaning into each other’s mouths.

Logan then flipped you on your back and his pounding into you again as you wrapped his legs around his waist. He went to intertwined his fingers into yours and he looked into your eyes. “Don’t close your eyes. I wanna see you come undone.” Logan warned. You nodded your head and said, “I won’t.” Logan nodded his head in approval. “Baby, I’m so close.” You moaned. “I know, I know. I’m right behind you.” You then reached your second climax of the night and you were spent. Logan’s hips started to stutter as he made a few good thrusts into you. “Where at?” Logan asked. “Inside. Safe.” You gasped between breaths, finding it hard to find the words. Logan nodded as he made one last thrust before he went still, painting your insides white.

Logan collapsed beside you and he pulled you into a lover’s embrace as you passed out. He kissed the top of your head as he whispered before you were completely out, “You did so good for me, baby. My perfect girl.”

The next morning, you stirred awake as you stretched your arms above your head. You looked out to your window and then you looked over to your right side of the bed, noticing that it was empty. Your heart sank to your chest. You were disappointed, but not surprised. Wishful thinking, you thought. You got out of bed and put on a fresh pair of panties and a short, silky bathrobe. You made your way to the kitchen and then you noticed a tan bare back with dark fluffy hair. He’s wearing his jeans low on his hips with no belt on. He’s cooking eggs and bacon on the stovetop. Logan turned around, took notice of your morning attire and he’s breath was taken away.

“Good morning, princess.” Logan said in his deep morning voice.

“Good morning.” You sighed happily. You went over to him and he grabbed you by the waist, making you gasp out loud. He leaned in for a kiss and you happily kissed him back.

“Oh, good!” Wade announced himself in the kitchen. “I see you met Y/N. The one that I mentioned to you before.”

Surprisingly, Logan didn’t growl at him. He stopped kissing you as you looked at Wade with a slack jaw like a fish in a hook. He went back to look down at you, and smiled, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you can say we got to know each other very well.” Logan winked at you after your “acquaintance” last night. You playfully slapped at his bare chest and he laughed.

“Next time if you guys are going to fuck, can you at least keep it down?” Wade whined. “It’s like coming across the Animal Channel.”

I picked up a towel and threw it at him. “Fuck off, will you, Wade?” Logan laughed as Wade scurried away. Logan wrapped his arms around my waist, palming my ass. “Hmmm. And here I thought I was gonna regret meeting you. But, Wade never described you. I guess I got lucky.” I leaned up to kiss him on the lips and he happily kissed me back. “To be honest, I didn’t know about any of this. I’m glad that I stumbled upon you.” Logan smirked at me. “Come on, before breakfast gets cold.”

[otto-s-alskling]

TF141 X Fem!Reader

"Dress Up"

Shopping for disguises is something that the Taskforce sometimes dreads and sometimes are excited about. But when the mission called for having you dressed up for the supposed Gala that you are all to attend to, they immediately scrambled to the nearest boutique to find the best gown for you.

The four men sat at the dress boutique, an odd bunch as the sales lady assisting you was inside the changing room to help with the lacing and fixing up the dress. So far, the picks have been good, none of them totally into it because some have been a

... Questionable.

Soap chose a dark navy blue dress that showed so much of your back, which in return immediately got him hit on the back of his head by Ghost.

Gaz chose a rose colored dress but the slit reached almost your hip and Price couldn't have shoved you back in the changing stall so fast to hide you.

Price chose a red dress, a quite regal looking one that's a halter neckline and a glittery mermaid style that got a few appreciative nods.

Ghost, however, picked something that no one else expected him to ever choose. It wasn't goofy or ugly or anything. Quite the opposite.

You stepped out the changing stall, blushing, as you stared at the mirrors and the men all froze, especially Ghost. The three immediately looked at the masked man before looking at you again and they all sported a red shade on their cheeks and ears, refusing to look away from you.

Ghost chose a dress with sweetheart neckline, slightly fitted at the top with a sparkly plain skirt. Nothing too flared or anything but still gorgeous on you. Was even nice enough to get you a silver belt too. The fucking color of the dress? White.

Ghost picked a wedding dress for you to try on.

Imagination ran wild between the men before you cleared your throat. "I don't think I'll wear this one... Cause..." Your voice trailed off when they didn't even move a muscle, just busy gazing at you.

Nobody answered for a moment before Price clears his throat. "That uhm... Looks great, love but not for this occasion. I think we should get the halter one. You pick the color."

I nodded and went to the sales lady, leaving the men in awe at what they just saw. Ghost looked at Soap who was grinning as he held up his phone. Sneaky Scottish bastard managed to take pictures and Gaz immediately requested for a few copies, making Price chuckle.

Secured with the dark blue version of the halter dress and the same silver belt that Ghost picked, the team headed out of the boutique.

•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•

Ghost went back the next day, and bought the dress he picked and a veil himself,gazing at his new phone wallpaper of you in the very same dress. You never know when you might need it ;3

[donatellawritings]

Hola babe!! Wondering how rafe would react to reader walking around with a short skirt/dress and no panties 🤭

-🍒

let’s be clear, this little habit of yours was only allowed within the confines of tannyhill. you rarely slept with panties on, usually a silk nightgown or one of rafe’s sufficed — unless you were feeling doll-like and wanted to put on a show for your doting boyfriend, then you’d be dressed in the finest array of lingerie while you walked around the estate. but, today you’d tried on the new pastel yellow crochet dress that you’d bought from a small boutique on the mainland, and you hated how your panty line disgustingly clashed the figure hugging fabric. you absolutely hated visible panty-lines — they ruined your pretty outfits.

so, with a small huff, you slid your panties down your legs, allowing the flimsy underwear to pool at your pedicured feet, before smiling at the vastly improved appearance of the dress. the yellow clashed beautiful with your sunkissed glow, your swollen breasts pushed up just right against the crochet fabric, due to the tie-up halter neckline. with a satisfied grin now expanding on your swollen, faded dusty rose lips, you smoothed your delicate hands over the soft fabric, before you slid your feet into your beige chanel sling back heels, cutely pouting your lips in the mirror as you gently ran your pearlescent acrylic nails through your freshly blown out hair.

in your biased mind, unless you looked uncomfortably close, the meticulously designed fabric of your dress covered everything it needed to, so you figured it would be okay for you to simply not tell rafe about your lack of underwear. if you played it cool, maybe he would too? either way, you were dead set on debuting this outfit as you went out for a lunch date with rafe. your slinky heels clicked and clacked against the hardwood floor as you made your way downstairs.

“papi, are you ready to go?” you sang, grabbing ahold of your chanel wristlet, making sure that it was filled with your emergency lipglosses and face powder, a sweet hum leaving your lips as rafe’s arm slid around your waist, “hi, baby — quieres un besito? i haven’t put on my lipgloss yet” you asked, running your hand down the side of rafe’s handsomely structured face, before running your hand through his buzzed hair as you turned to face him.

rafe was quick to swing his arm around the back of your neck, wordlessly pulling you into a purposely sloppy kiss, his tongue messily sliding against yours as you let out a muffled squeal into the kiss. you could hear a breathy chuckle leave rafe’s lips as he hastily pulled away from you, his lips shiny as you rolled your eyes, knowing that some of your makeup would be smeared. “raafe, i just did my makeup,” you whined, letting out an annoyed huff as rafe wiped his lips with an amused smirk, his ringed fingers swiping at the corners of his mouth as he adjusted the collar of white white linen button-up.

“you asked me if i wanted a kiss, mama,” rafe reminded you, his eyes falling on how the crocheted fabric stuck your your every curve. you mumbled something incoherently as you pressed a powder puff to your face, a displeased pout on your now smeared lips. rafe shamelessly ogled at you, his eyes hanging low as they watched how your plushy ass jiggled with every subtle move you made. his spit-coated lips now ran dry as you stood in direct sunglight, the silhouette of your inner thighs and unclothed pussy coming into view as you bent over to grab your tube of glittery hot pink lipgloss that fell to the floor.

with a sarcastic laugh, rafe clears his throat, “uh, princess, m’gonna ask you a question and i want you to tell me the truth, okay?” rafe sighed, his cocked to the side as he watched you freeze in place, the fabric of your dress stretched against the curve of your ass as you craned your neck to look at rafe from your bent position.

your doe eyes widened in fear as your wispy eyelashes blinked, you were quick to stand up straight, your chin up as you watched rafe take a breath, “are you wearing any panties?” he questioned, his eyebrows raised and pink lips parted as he awaited you answer. your boyfriend didn’t miss how you shifted your weight to lean on your hips, your swollen lips parting as you nodded your head, earning an amused laugh from rafe as he crossed his arms over his firm chest, “y’sure? m’not gonna ask you again,” he warned, his voice a bit raspy as he adjusted the band of his rolex to sit comfortably snug around his wrist.

“noo, but it’s because it made my dress look weird,” you whined, your smeared lips pulled into a pout as you approached rafe, your arms snaking around his waist as he rolled his eyes at your lame excuse. “i’m serious, it looked so fucking ugly,” you sighed, batting your doll lashes at rafe who couldn’t help but laugh at how dramatic you were being over a stupid panty.

mimicking your pout, rafe gently grabbed ahold of your cheeks, mushing them together, before pressing a chaste kiss to your mushed lips, “poor baby doesn’t wanna her panties, huh” he teased, mocking your whiny tone, earning a frustrated sigh from you. you could tell that he wasn’t sold on your reasoning and that in about ten seconds he was going to send you upstairs to change, “the thing is, i don’t wanna let your pretty pussy get all dirty, bein’ all out in the open like that,” he explained, his tone still disgustingly condescending as your doe eyes silently pleaded with him.

with an entitled roll of your eyes, you pulled away from rafe, childishly storming upstairs to your shared bedroom, leaving rafe to stand with his hands shoved in his pockets, “drop the fuckin’ attitude!” he called out, rolling his eyes as you wordlessly closed your bedroom door. “m’gonna fuck her up,” he mumbled to himself, letting out a strained sigh as he ran his large hands over his shaven face.

ꪆৎ

you were a spoiled little princess, eager to annoy rafe just because you didn’t get your way. you’d swapped your yellow dress for a crème colored mini knit dress, the swells of your cute tits on full display as you bent over to grab your purse that accidentally fallen on the ground, your lacy thong sucked in by the soft fat of your ass cheeks that were on full display as you stopped suddenly in front of rafe. with an annoyed grunt, rafe grabbed your arm, swiftly pulling you to stand straight as he reached down to grab your purse.

pulling down the hem of your ridiculously mini dress with his fingers, rafe shoved your purse into your small hand, before nudging your chin with the side of his ringed finger, “cut it the fuck out, y’being a fuckin’ brat,” he whispered into you ear as you shrugged carelessly, your glossed lips twisting into an annoyed frown as you exhaled sharply through your nose.

hastily pulling you closer to his chest, rafe pointed a finger at you, “i don’t know what the fuck is with you getting a fuckin’ attitude when you don’t get what you want, but you’re my girl, and m’not gonna have my fuckin’ girl walking around showing everything she’s got,” he scolded, his hand roughly squeezing your jaw as he forced you to keep your wandering gaze on him, “if y’don’t like that, then go be with one of those fucking pogues wouldn’t give a fuck about you and what happens to you,” he adds, the vein in his neck strained as your eyes welled with guilty tears.

“i don’t want them, i want you,” you blinked your tears away.

roughly releasing your jaw from his tight grip, rafe sends you a chilling look of warning, “then fuckin’ act like it,” he mutters, moving his sunglasses to cover his bright blues as he grabs your hand, leading you into the restaurant. his jaw tight as he walked aimlessly, eyes blown with frustration as you slowed down to a stop, tugging on your boyfriend’s arm. “what?” he snapped, his anger gradually dissipating as you rushed into his arms, your chin leaning into his heaving chest.

“i’m your girl, papi, only yours,” you batted your wispy lashes up at rafe, pushing yourself onto the tips of your toes. rafe forced himself to appear stoic as you kissed his lips, a troublesome smile pulling on your pouty lips, as you brought your mouth to his ear, “i think i just need you to fuck me, rafey,” you knowingly sighed, scratching your nails against rafe’s clothed abdomen, a giggle leaving your throat as he sighed in defeat.

that was all rafe needed to hear, before he began to pull you in the opposite direction of the restaurant, a yelp leaving your lips as he suddenly lifted you by your legs, hauling you over his shoulder as he eagerly made his way towards the backseat of his pickup truck.

you always knew how to get back in rafe’s good graces.

[avoxrising]

Saw You In That Dress

Finnick x Reader

Masterlist Link

So @kittimbo posted this fic idea on their blog and I wanted to give a shot at writing it (see repost of the request on my blog).

Basically the reader is another victor from District 4 and Finnick’s childhood best friend. She has to go to an event in the capital in a sheer dress and it leaves Finnick very flustered and things heat up back at her place… smut ahead!

Content warnings - cursing, prostitution, unwanted public nudity, very smutty

“Tigris you can’t be serious,” you groan as you see the dress she brought you. It was made of purple organza and was very see through. Your whole body would be on display. Tigris had enough decency to provide you with a small nude thong but your chest was fully on display.

“Client’s request,” Tigris responds. “You just have to be with him during the event and then you get the rest of the night off to wear whatever you want. The siren must make her appearances after all.”

The capital had called you “The Siren” since your games. During the final eight interview your sister told the capital how you were the best singer in District 4 and the capital ran wild with that comment. You were made to pick up singing as your official victor hobby and the rest is history.

Knowing what would happen if you didn’t comply, you reluctantly let Tigris dress you. The dress wouldn’t actually be so bad if it wasn’t see through. The fabric flowed beautifully around your features and the halter top was covered in expensive jewels. Unfortunately, all anyone would notice was your bare top half, not the rest of you.

As your driver takes you to the event at Snow’s mansion you have a moment of panic. The fact that your childhood best friend and mentor, Finnick, was also going to be in attendance was a sense of relief until you saw what you would be wearing. Now you have to avoid him. You can’t let him see you in this dress. That’s literally the definition of embarrassing.

Luckily, the event is fairly crowded. You’re stuck to your client like glue for the whole evening, trying to hide your dress behind him as much as possible. Unfortunately, he purchased you and this dress for the sole intent of checking you out and showing you off, so he mainly kept you in front of him so your girls were in eyesight at all times. You could barely hide your discomfort.

“Come on Siren darling you need to meet my sister,” he coos. “She’s a big fan of Tigris and she would love to see your dress. I’m sure her date would too.”

You reluctantly join him as he glides across the room. The sight of his sister and her date makes you freeze. Of course it had to be Finnick. The second he notices your outfit his eyes shoot to the floor, doing his best not to stare.

“Celia my dear sister!” your client exclaims as he introduces you to a woman with green hair and eyes like a snake. “I’d like you to meet my lovely victor for tonight. Did you know Tigris designed her dress?”

The woman gushes over your dress, running the fabric through her fingers as you stand their uncomfortably. Ironically, Finnick looks more uncomfortable than you. He’s sweating and shifting from foot to foot. What is he doing?

“I’ll be right back,” he tells his date, scurrying away. She’s too enthralled by your dress to notice his absence but you can’t help but feel betrayed. Why was he leaving you alone to fend for yourself?

The rest of the event passes too slowly. It’s finally 3am when your driver picks you up to bring you back to the victors’ apartments in the capital. You spend the car ride removing all the pins from your hair and the jewels from your neckline that Tigris glued on.

When you get back to your apartment, all you want to do is change into actual comfy clothes and go to sleep, but your plans are sidelined by Finnick sitting at your kitchen counter. You can’t help but stare at him in disbelief, as if he had the audacity to think you’d want to hang out with him at this hour, right after he left you alone with your client and his.

You let out a long exhale before dropping your shoes by the door and heading to your room, eager to get out of your dress. Finnick, of course, follows you. What the hell was his problem?

“Hey,” he says as you walk further into your apartment. “How was your night?”

“Awful,” you huff, finally turning around to face him. “What are you even doing here?”

“I wanted to see you,” he nervously replies, doing his best to keep his eyes on your face.

“Well everyone has seen a whole lot of me tonight,” you retort. You cross your arms over your chest, causing Finnick’s eyes to abruptly snap back up to your face. He was definitely looking.

“I like the dress,” he comments. You roll your eyes and turn to head towards the room when he stops you, putting one of his hands on your arm.

“Wait,” he says. “I just wanted to apologize for leaving you with my client. I just couldn’t control myself with you in that dress. You looked…”

You look up at him, slightly confused. Sure you two had always been somewhat flirty for two people who were just friends, but something about the way you two were flirting tonight felt different.

“You couldn’t control yourself?” you smirk.

“No,” he shyly replies. “I really couldn’t.”

“Well what would you do if you didn’t have to control yourself?” you ask, dragging your fingers down the arm that lay on your shoulder.

“Do you really want to know?” he asks, using his arm to maneuver you so your back was against the wall. Things were definitely different tonight.

“Yes,” you nervously swallow. “Please.”

He hungrily encapsulates your lips with his as his hands hold you firmly against the wall. Was your childhood best friend and longtime crush actually kissing you?

His hands roamed up your stomach until they sat just under your boobs, hands pressing gently into the sheer fabric covering them.

“If I didn’t have to control myself in there I would have dragged you to Snow’s office so I could bend you over his desk and fuck you till you couldn’t walk,” he growls. “You would be singing my name like the deadly siren you are. I would leave marks all over you till your arms and neck matched your dress and everyone knew you didn’t belong to them.”

His hands dig into the flesh of your boobs and you let out a soft moan. You needed his hands in a million different places right now but the words wouldn’t form to tell him that.

“You just look too good in that dress,” he groans, pressing himself closer to you. Your hands drift down his torso until they come to rest over his dress pants. They were definitely getting a bit tight due to the conversation.

“I might look better with it off,” you smirk at him, sliding your hand down gently over his bulge. He let out a deep groan at the contact and swiftly guided you back over to your couch just a few feet away, where he promptly had you sit on his lap, facing him.

“I want to show them that they don’t own you,” he says as you kiss his neck, definitely leaving marks. You pull back for a moment to look into his deep blue green eyes. The two of you had crossed a line, and there was no going back to just friends.

“They don’t,” you tell him. “I won’t let them own you either.”

The moment intensifies until Finnick smashes his lips back into yours, hands pulling up the bottom of your dress. He slides your thong to the side and quickly goes to undo his pants. You impatiently yank them down to his knees, watching his very prominent erection bounce up to hit his stomach.

No words needed to be said, you two already knew what the other was thinking. You take ahold of his member and line it up with your soaking entrance. Only he could do this to you.

He unties the halter top of your dress, fully exposing your breasts to him. He can’t help but run is hands over them and give them a squeeze.

“They’re perfect,” he grins, looking up at you. “You’re perfect.”

You pull his lips to yours as you sink down onto him. He stretches you out nicely and it takes you a second to adjust to his size.

Slowly, you pull back up before sitting yourself back down onto him, moaning in the process.

“Fuck Finnick,” you groan. He ruts his hips up into yours, telling you to get moving. You heed his command and begin to bounce up and down on him, the sound of skin hitting skin filling your apartment.

He presses his face to your chest and gently bites and sucks as you ride him, loving the way your boobs bounce with every thrust. Eventually he has you turn around so he can wrap his arms around you and hold your boobs while you bounce on him.

He lets out a groan and you can tell he’s close, his dick twitching inside of you. The feeling in your stomach lets you know you’re close too, but you need something more.

You wrap one of your hands around his, guiding it down to your swollen clit.

“Please,” you beg as you push his hand towards your core. He does not disappoint as his fingers make contact with your clit.

It’s only a few moments later before your orgasm comes crashing down on you, with Finnick not far behind. He pulls you down onto him as he spurts himself deep into you, burying his face in your neck. You don’t think he could get any deeper but he continues to thrust as he coats your walls.

When the moment fades, he gently lifts you off of him, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he goes to get a warm towel. You lay back on the couch, exhausted. You would have to lie to Tigris about why the dress got so sweaty.

“Here,” Finnick hums as he lays you back on the couch. He proceeds to wipe you up, your clit throbbing from the contact. After you are both cleaned up, you ditch the idea of pjs and climb into your bed together, the sun already rising over the capital.

“We should have done that a lot sooner,” Finnick states. You give him a happy hum in response as you nuzzle up against him. “Thank god I saw you in that dress.”

-

I hope this was in line with your idea! Let me know in the comments what y’all think of this and if I should do more of possessive Finnick in the future.

[imaginidol]

Yunho: Table Manners

!!mentions of nsfw!! 18+ !! do NOT interact if you don’t like smut!! As requested, here is another ateez smut fic! I haven’t even finished my ot8 fluff stories and I’m already pumping these out ahead of time! Naughty atiny!! In case you are interested, here is a San ver. smut and a Hongjoong ver. smut and a Mingi ver. smut, Wooyoung ver. smut and jongho ver. Smut. I’ve already gotten another asmuteez request so be on the look out for that if you NEED it *squints suspiciously at you*

"A pleasure to finally meet you," Wooyoung quickly bows his head in your direction, followed by a gentle greeting from the rest of the ATEEZ boys.

Tonight was a special night, as it was the first night Yunho was properly introducing you to his best friends in the world as his official romantic partner.

He had invited his members out to a very nice dinner for the occasion, and everyone had dressed casually elegant.

You, however, looked exceptionally beautiful in your choice of clothing for the occasion: a slim-fitted black halter-maxi dress with a plunging neckline, all of which graciously outlined the alluring curvature of your body. Your hair was pinned in a high ponytail and your sparkling heels complemented the final look well.

It was no secret that you were total eye candy at first sight, and one of Yunho's members in particular had taken special notice as well.

As the night progressed, the initial light conversation turned into full conversations about hobbies, industry gossip, how-we-met stories, and other fun interests.

Wooyoung takes a slow sip of his white wine, turning his attention to you.

"You said you'd want to learn more about recording songs, right?"

"I'd love to, actually," you smile, turning to Yunho. "Will you take me one day?"

Yunho's eyes softened. "I'll bring you this week to studio, if you'd like."

"Thank you! I feel like it would be so fun to see how you guys work!"

"Why don't you record stuff for fun while you're there?" Wooyoung smirks, taking another sip of his wine. "I could show you a few things, too."

"Really?" you smile eagerly, "What about music production, could we try that too?"

Wooyoung nodded, leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms, eyeing you steadily. "I could definitely do that for you."

"Wooyoung, you're not too buzzed yet, yeah?" Hongjoong says, rubbing his palm against a now half-drunken Wooyoung's neck.

Wooyoung scoffs, shaking his head quietly. "Nah, not yet."

Yunho takes notice of his friend's odd behavior. While he wouldn't be upset if Wooyoung did find you attractive, he was going to be upset if Wooyoung intended to do something about it and passively flirt around you all night long.

"Would you please excuse us," Yunho politely nods towards the rest of his members, pulling his chair back to stand and lightly tapping you on the shoulder.

"Oh?" you look up at your boyfriend and let him wrap his hand around yours as you follow him out to the restroom hallway.

"What's wrong, babe?" you place a hand against Yunho's arm as he turns towards you, his fingers rubbing his eyes in visible annoyance.

"It's nothing that's necessarily your fault, but I don't... I think... I think Wooyoung's got an eye on you, or something like that."

"Wooyoung?" you start giggling, cupping a hand around Yunho's jaw. "Awe, are you getting jealous?"

"Shh, it's not funny," he mutters, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling.

"Yunho, I don't think I've ever seen or heard you when you're jealous. I kind of like it," you tease, placing your hands against his chest and leaving a soft kiss against his lips.

"Just don't give him too much attention anymore, alright? I'll deal with him after," he mumbles into your lips. He gently wraps his arms around your waist, not wanting to think about his friend's behavior anymore.

"But, does this mean I can't go to your recording studio anymore?"

Yunho's eyebrows furrow slightly. "Only if you're with me, and you let me show you how things work."

"Oh?" you cock your head to the side, smiling, "So, no Wooyoung?"

Yunho's eyes grow hooded. "You want him to come? What, so you like his attention on you now?"

You shrugged. "I guess I like it when I get attention," you smirk.

Yunho furrows his brows more, studying your expressions carefully.

She's doing it again, he thinks.

"You're doing it again," he mutters out loud.

"What am I doing?" you say, placing your index fingers around his belt loops.

"Don't fuck around with me like that, especially not with Wooyoung," he mumbles in a low grating voice, bringing his face closer to yours.

"Okay, I won't," you smile, "just as long as it means you are giving me all the attention I want."

Yunho's eyes jump from your eyes to your lips, his hands still clutched around your waist. "And what if I don't? Should I get worried?"

You drop your smile quickly as you bring a hand up to his face, rubbing your thumb steadily against his bottom lip. "I'll get it from Wooyoung."

Yunho immediately rams his lips into yours out of pure frustration, shoving your back against the wall.

"Say it again, I fucking dare you," Yunho mutters breathily, digging his fingernails into your ass.

You let out a soft groan as you feel his harsh kisses trace a line from your jaw down your neck, both your hands now gripping his waist.

"If I see you giving him the attention he wants one more time, I'll fuck the shit out of you until you regret it," he hisses.

"Do I... do I have to wait to give him attention for me to get that punishment?" you tease softly, pulling against his belt loops again.

"Fuck it, you're done for," he snarls, looking over his shoulder and locating your next impromptu destination: a janitor's closet.

He quickly pulls you in, shutting the lights off and locking the door behind him before turning his attention back to you.

You feel his strong hands wrap around your back as he slams your body against the wall behind you, making a rattling noise as several custodial objects toppled all over the floor in the process.

You tug at his pants desperately, begging with your fingers for him to take them off.

"Oh, fuck no, you're not getting shit unless you beg me for it," he snarls, slapping your hands away from his belt and unzipping the back of your dress.

You whine in protest, pulling your arms out of your sleeve holes and slipping out of your heels in a few swift motions as Yunho pulls his sleeves up to his elbows.

Yunho lifts a couple fingers to his lips and quickly drenches them in spit before proceeding to glide his hand down your stomach and into your panties.

"Yunho,” you whisper as you feel his fingers find their way onto your clit. He began massaging you gently; kneading strategically against your sensitive happy button as soft moans began escaping your lips.

“You like that, princess?” he mumbles under his breath, soft grunts escaping his lips as he felt you drenching his fingers more and more.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he hisses, scrunching his face in deep pleasure as he felt a boner rising somewhere deep within his pants.

He raises an arm against the wall next to your head and encloses his mouth around yours, keeping his other hand busy rubbing two drenched fingers against your bean. You have one arm wrapped around his shoulder and neck, the other tugging desperately at his arm as you raised one leg around his hips, nudging him to start fingering you.

"You want attention, princess?" he breathes, biting your lip profusely as he followed his fingers down your labia to reach your hole.

"Fuck," you whimper, raising your leg higher in desperation at the feel of Yunho's steady fingers gently teasing your entrance.

"Beg for it," he sneers, his breath hot against your neck as he cravingly bit into your skin.

"Please, finger me already," you whimper, "just please fucking finger me!"

“You’re so fucking needy,” Yunho scoffs, inserting his fingers into you and pulling out steadily, his cock now fully hardened and poking you through his clothed crotch.

Your soft moans being to match the pace of his fingers sliding in and out of you, your hole growing wetter and looser alongside his every rapturing stroke.

"Please, Yunho, fuck me," you achingly plead, shamelessly tugging at his zipper in an attempt to pull it down.

"You're gonna be fucking patient," he growled, seeing as how your itched fingers had managed to thirstily slide their way underneath his boxers.

You pulled down his boxers and out popped his wet, hardened cock. You traced circles around his tip as he kept ramming his fingers in and out of you, ignoring your hungry requests for more.

Suddenly, a devious thought lingered through your mind.

"You know,” you smile, “I bet Wooyoung would've had his cock inside of me already a long fucking time ago," you tease.

That sentence alone is enough to force Yunho to rip his dress shoes, black turtleneck, and pants off his body, desperately fumbling his way out.

You clench your jaw as he lifts your legs off the ground and wraps them around his waist, his hardened member already seeping wet drops of cum at its tip.

"Say... that... again... SAY IT!!" he pants desperately as he begins pushing himself roughly into you, every word coming out of his mouth in unison with each deep thrust. Your loud moans began to fill the otherwise quiet and voided air around you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you moan loudly, clawing your fingernails deeply into the soft canvas of porcelain-like skin of his back as each intensifying stroke slipped in and out of your pink-fleshed caverna.

--

"They've been gone awhile; do you think they're alright?" Yeosang turns to Hongjoong, taking a sip of his hot tea as quiet jazz tunes play from the ceiling speakers above.

"Hmm," Hongjoong turns toward the end of the restaurant where he last saw you and Yunho disappear. "Don't know."

"Probably arguing, as healthy couples do," Jongho says, taking a bite of fish cake. "Wooyoung, I blame you,” he sneers through a mouthful of food. “Keep your eyes to yourself next time, yeah? It's bro code."

"Right," Hongjoong turns back around thoughtfully, popping some kimchi into his mouth.

--

You slam both hands against the wall as Yunho roughly turns you onto your stomach, spreading your legs wide as he began hitting it from the back.

Yunho's bangs are drenched as tiny drops of sweat splash onto your hot, glossy back, both your bodies growing warmer under the intensifying and sexy heat of friction. With every passing desirous moan and grunt, Yunho thrusts himself deeper into you, bending over to firmly clasp his hands around your hips and then biting profusely into your neck.

Loud moans escape your lips as you're no longer able to keep them in, your body under complete control of the boy masterminding an orchestra of your vocal chords behind you.

Yunho's breathy gasps slowly turn to soft whimpers as his wet, throbbing member slips in and out of your loosened warm, velvety inner walls. He seemingly felt himself on the verge of reaching his limit, but refused to let go until you reached the pleasure you oh-so wonderfully deserved.

"C'mon, baby," Yunho whispers into your ear as you throw your head back into his shoulder, "cum for me already," he whispers gently. At that, he begins fucking you harder and faster, throwing any and all signs of polite and gentle sex out the window.

You fail to hold in a loud, pleasurable groan as your lower abdomen is joyously overwhelmed by the full extortion of your final orgasm, to which Yunho takes the full and pleasurable joy of feeling his throttling member drench completely at your release.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit," Yunho hisses, sinking his teeth deep into his bottom lip as the sensation of your warmth overwhelms his hot, throbbing member. He pulls out quickly with only seconds of limited time to jerk himself off before a steaming hot jet stream of cum shoots all over your back.

"Fuck," Yunho takes a couples steps back, outstretching his arms to lean against the wall in front of him with you underneath. He leans in gently, lowering his warm body against your back as several of his soft kisses are gently planted against your cheek. The small janitorial closet grew quiet except for the heavy panting in an attempt to catch your breaths. He looked around and only hoped that the custodians of this restaurant would take deep-cleaning requests seriously, and he cursed himself quietly under his breath for the uncanny mess that was left of the small room. He planted one last soft kiss against your shoulder as he stepped back and started shuffling through the storage bins in search of a roll of paper towels.

"Don't move, baby," he muttered, wiping what he could of his mess off your back and in between your legs. He folded the paper towel and with it finished wiping himself down, though he knew that you two wouldn't be fully clean until you managed to take a shower sometime later that night.

"Sorry, baby," he hummed, balancing you on your feet as he helped you pull your dress back on and slip into your heels. "I'll try to find an excuse for us to go home as quickly as possible."

You giggled as you helped your boyfriend dress himself next, leaving a quick, soft kiss against his V-line before pulling his pants up and zipping them shut.

"I'm gonna be so sore tomorrow," you sigh under your breath, annoyedly pinching your boyfriend's waist as you both awkwardly stepped out of the closet.

"How do I look?" you tiredly smile up to your boyfriend, trying to pat down your hair as best as you could. Streaks of your runny eye makeup and faded lipstick made him giggle softly, a proud trophy he considered after the sinful events of the last twenty minutes.

"You look like you've learned your lesson," he smirks, leaning over to plant a soft kiss against your cheek. He pulls out another paper towel and begins to gently touch up your makeup the best that he could, though with all his best efforts you still looked like you were lawlessly railed without any signs of regret.

"What about me? Do I look presentable?"

You giggled at the sight of his wrinkled shirt and mess of drenched hair, running your fingers through his bangs in an attempt to make him look not-so-guilty of the heinous acts he'd just committed out of distasteful jealousy.

--

"Oh, there you are. We thought you guys had left already," Yeosang smiles as you and Yunho hobbled awkwardly into your seats. You flinched as you sat, still feeling the rawness in your hole where Yunho had recklessly fucked you like it was no one’s immediate business.

"Were you crying?" Jongho says, noticing the smudged residue of mascara and eyeliner that Yunho had failed to completely wipe clean. Yunho takes notice and proceeds to gently pat a napkin against your face.

Yunho smiled assuringly in your direction. “What? No, those are happy tears, you see," he teased, flashing you a pretty grin with perfect teeth.

"Oh? That's good to hear, then," Wooyoung sighed, nudging Jongho's arm. "See? They weren’t arguing.”

Jongho rolls his eyes.

“Anyhow,” Hongjoong continues, turning to face you, "you’re very beautiful and we very much appreciated getting to finally meet you,” he smiles, turning his attention to Yunho next. “She's a real gem, so never forget to treat her right,” he finishes, sending a small wink in your direction.

Yunho squeezed your thigh under the table, turning a gentle smile back in your direction.

"Trust me when I say, taking good care of her is my top priority."

[sellamazonsmarketing]

"Elegant and Versatile: Remidoo Women's Shoulder Halter Sleeveless Blouse - Perfect for Casual or Formal Wear"

[huramuna]

new valyria - one shot.

aemond x shera stark, modern. 18+, minors do not interact or you will be smited. a banshee's lament au.

new valyria, the hottest club in town, is owned by the Targaryen family. it is themed in the style of Valyria of old with towering pillars of ivory and gold. the dress code is strictly red and black and their signature drink, a fruity and spicy blended brandy, is called 'the Balerion'.

i might do more one shots in this au heehee.

word count: 5.5k

content: smut (specifics below cut), angst, shera being a mess, aemond = whore?, aegon has rabies, helaena x shera agenda

ain't it fun - paramore • hard times - paramore

warnings: thigh riding, oral (f receiving), shera has a praise kink, aemond targaryen has a tongue piercing, semi public sex (they're in an alley)

“Sher, please don’t be a buzzkill, it's one night— just one!” Cregan exasperated, hands held out in a pleading fashion. He was pacing back and forth in front of his sister, perplexed. 

“It’s seriously not my scene, Cregan. I mean… loud music, flashing lights and intoxicated individuals everywhere? You really think that’s a good place for me to be?” Shera retorted, lazed back in her fluffy couch, glancing at her phone every once in a while.

“It’s really classy, trust me. There are tables to the side where you can sit away from the action.” 

“Why am I even going if I’m going to be ‘away from the action’?” she punctuated air quotes in his face. 

“When was the last time you left the house except to go to the post office? When was the last time you socialized with anyone who wasn’t me, Moongeist or Helaena?” 

Shera went silent, brow knitting together. She folded her arms over her chest defensively. “Low blow, make fun of the girl with an anxiety disorder and agoraphobia.” 

“I’m… I just want you to experience life! You’re young and spry— you should be out in the world trying everything while you still can! But instead, you insist on staying at home, wearing glasses that make you look like a librarian, and making soap. You already act the part of a grandma.” 

“It’s… I just don’t want anyone to see me, I don’t want to be perceived, Cregan. I don’t want people to look at me, to… to,” she gestured fervently to her eye, hands shaking slightly. She had a scar that ran the length of half of her face, bisecting her one eye into a milky-blue blindness. It was from a childhood accident, which was more or less a hazy nightmare to her now. “Y’know.”

“No one will see you, Shera. It’s… dark and low lit, that’s part of the experience.”

“Thirty minutes. I will stay approximately thirty minutes before I call an uber and go home. And… you have to do my laundry for… a month. No, two months!” Shera exclaimed, pointing out two fingers at him. Moongeist whined on the couch, giving a low warbling noise. 

–

Two hours later, she was dressed. She opted for a lacy baby-blue lolita style dress at first, but Cregan had protested immediately. 

“You look like a scary Victorian doll. Pick something from this era, please. Plus, there is a dress code of black and red.” 

Shoving a rude gesture in his face, she begrudgingly changed. She opted for a red satin dress. It had a scoop halter neckline which was certainly not her usual style. Glancing in the mirror, she wholly considered bailing out of the situation entirely. The snug fabric hugged her curves, her thighs rubbing together as she walked. She felt… exposed, all of the little dips and divots of her body on display— she wasn’t sure if it was even flattering. 

A small frown tugged at her lips as she fiddled with the plunging front of the dress, trying to get it to stay at a point where her breasts didn’t look like they were about to burst out and start kicking ass and taking names. Isn’t there tape made for this sort of thing? As self conscious as she was about the whole situation, there was something… liberating about getting dressed up with (almost) the sole purpose of being ogled at. While her face was something of a sore point, she would hope that at least one person in the club could find her body desirable. She was a ‘short-stack’ as Helaena called her, who worshiped her curves and soft spots like they were the second coming of a messiah. Shera squeezed her thighs together at the thought– if she didn’t get a hookup tonight, she would need to call Helaena. Some itches could only be scratched on your own for so long.

Pressing double-sided adhesive tape, that she used for her soap orders, to her chest, she somewhat successfully kept the satin in place. Giving another look and not quite on board with what she saw, she hid herself in an oversized puffy faux furred jacket. 

Just thirty minutes. It’s just thirty minutes, Shera. You can do this… just… chill out. 

Despite her lackluster words of affirmation and the subsequent panic bubbling in her stomach, she grabbed her purse. Her breathing was uneven and she took a hit from her emergency inhaler, hoping to the Gods at play that she wouldn’t have an asthma attack in the middle of the club. 

Shera imagined, somehow, dancing with some attractive number and getting hot and heavy (as if!) and then having to pull out her inhaler. Lung health is not cute. Oh, yeah, my airways get blocked sometimes by mucus and I can’t breathe. What do you mean you don’t want to stick your tongue down my throat? 

Myriad of issues aside, she pushed out of her room, head held not quite high, but just enough so she could see. 

Cregan nodded in approval (as if he was some sort of fashion expert) and they were off. The drive was quiet and Shera realized he never told her the club name. He always referred to it as ‘the club’. She somewhat understood the need for a dress code at an establishment like a lounge, but color coded? How pretentious. Shera and Cregan didn’t even really look good in red— they were more akin to monochromatic and cool toned blues rather than red. 

Red and black reminded her of… something. She couldn’t quite place it.

They pulled up to the building, which didn’t have a sign or anything. It was wedged in between two other buildings, but its architecture was vastly different. While the adjoining facilities were modern, the club looked like it was from ancient Greece. It had towering ivory pillars, etched in the simplistic but still somewhat complex design of corinthian filigree, the individual chips of the sculptor’s chisel still apparent— they were handmade, hand carved. The inside of the building emanated a foreboding and very deep red. 

Shera suddenly wondered if she was about to enter Mount Olympus— or maybe the underworld, as the sickly maroon color reminded her of the River Styx. 

The bouncer, a burly man who could easily bench press Cregan (an impressive feat, considering her brother was a hockey player built like a brick shit house) stood at the door. 

“Name.” the makeshift Charon grunted. Shera half expected him to start brandishing a wooden paddle. 

“Stark.” Cregan replied, hands in his pockets. 

Not-Charon looked at his list, then at the pair of Stark siblings, back and forth for at least thirty seconds. 

“S-T-A…” Cregan began to spell out their last name in irritation before the ferryman held up his hand in pause. 

“You’re on, go in.” 

Entering the club, to which Shera still didn’t know the name of, was certainly like entering the gates of Hell. She felt like Dante, entering the first circle, guided by Virgil. It was dark, the low boom of bass ringing in her ears. They were guided by a path of red floor lights. What is this? An amusement park? It was a weird mix of trepidation of entering the unknown— which to Shera, could either be the actual entrance to Hell, or the entrance to the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disney world. All she was sure of is that she wanted a turkey leg and to go home. 

And yet, some part of her brain, as small and withered as it may be, pressed on for adventure and excitement. They approached the end of the path and it gave way to a large room, still painted in that deep saccharine hue. The roof was high-vaulted and curved inward– it was like stepping into the Pantheon, the coffered, domed ceiling seeming to go on forever. The club was set up in a circular manner, as the room curved around. The bar itself was in the middle, hugging a large stage platform. On the stage was a singular grand piano and a DJ station. All surfaces were decorated in ivory, accented by red velvet. 

The music playing was a mix of the piano and the DJ, working together to create a surprisingly exuberant melody that made Shera’s skin rise in goosebumps. 

“Let’s get drinks, Sher,” Cregan steered her to the wrapping bar quickly, his sights set on something or someone in particular.

Shera didn’t feel much like drinking– she had no taste for alcohol, only trying it a few times in her life and never enough to even get a buzz. She didn’t find the point in choking down liquid that tasted like poison only to feel like living death the next morning. She slipped into one of the velvet bar stools, her feet dangling under her.

“Just cranberry juice, please,” she murmured to the barkeep, who returned her request with an eyebrow raise. 

Cregan began whooping and hollering behind her and she turned to see someone she hadn’t seen in a long time: Jacaerys Velaryon. 

Once upon a time, Shera and Cregan had been extremely close to the Velaryon and Targaryen kids, growing up in the same social circles, they were all an unstoppable and very tight knit little group of hellions. 

But that was years ago– she didn’t talk to any of them anymore, except for Helaena, who she had stayed best friends with throughout the years, and may or may not be in a casual on and off situationship with.

She tried not to remember the fact that, at some point, she had been attached at the hip to Helaena’s brother, Aemond. They were like peanut butter and jelly, like cookies and cream, like macaroni and cheese, and any other iconic food (or maybe not, she was just hungry) related duo. Thick as thieves, they were. Until… the ever creeping monster of puberty and hormones and all the things related to growing up split them apart. Shera developed her terrible anxiety disorder, while Aemond flourished in academics and moved through the social ranks at school. They hadn’t spoken since they were sixteen, when Shera inevitably withdrew from physical school in favor of at-home, online school.

Shera approached him warily, seeing him laughing and joking with his friends that were just… so out of her atmosphere, she couldn’t even imagine having a conversation with.

They hadn’t been close in a few years but… it wouldn’t feel right just up and disappearing from school without telling him, right? 

Some stupid, childish part of her thought he might ask her to stay, ask her what’s wrong, ask her anything, really. 

But as she got closer, she felt all of their eyes on her, their lips pulled into sneers. It's irrational, it's irrational, it's irrational, she tried to reason with herself and her bubbling anxiety in her stomach. They aren’t laughing at you, they aren’t, they aren’t. 

But it… it feels like they were. Aemond’s blue eyes zeroed in on her, one slightly off-color than the other. They had both been involved in a childhood accident, leaving them both blinded. But, looking at the two of them, one would only be able to notice Shera’s glaring scar. 

Aemond’s eye and subsequent scar had been mostly covered up with extensive cosmetic surgery and other procedures, at his mother’s behest, and on his father’s dime, which was seemingly an endless well. His eye, which he lost, was replaced by a near perfect replica. No one who didn’t know him closely would ever notice.

At the time of the incident, Shera’s family was going through a transitional period– namely, her and Cregan’s father passing away while they were both underage, the following legal battle over inheritance with their uncle and just things that no kids should go through. It was the catalyst of Shera’s subsequent anxiety and myriad of following issues.

She didn’t even approach him further that day in the hall. She said nothing to him, merely turning on a heel and leaving.

That was eight years ago.

“Jace, my god,” Shera gaped, eyes wide. He certainly wasn’t a kid anymore and had put on some muscle mass– she assumed from playing hockey with Cregan (even if he was still dwarfed by the absolute unit of her brother). He had those unruly chocolate colored curls, oh-so reminiscent of his rumored father, Harwin Strong. But that was a touchy issue within itself and best left unsaid. 

“Shera!” Jace went in for the hug right away, squeezing the poor girl tight. “You look fantastic.” It felt like an obligated lie. 

“Thank you… um, what are you doing here?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Oh, I’m always around this place most times or another. I DJ on the side when I’m not on the ice. Mom made a spot for me.”

Mom? What did Rhaenyra have to do with this?

She must have looked visibly confused. “You know this… is my family’s place, right? New Valyria?” 

It hit her like a train– a freight train that smacked into her and kept on going until there was nothing left of her but Shera-shaped dust. “Oh.”

“Cregan didn’t tell you?”

Her brother scratched a hand behind his head, looking somewhat sheepish. It was a weird look on him. “I… may have not. I wasn’t lying per say–” 

Shera opened her mouth to say something more, but was interrupted by a cup being slid her way by the bartender. Without looking, she lifted it to her lips and took a deep gulp. It was, in fact, her cranberry juice– but it had been mixed with vodka. Heavily. She suppressed the urge to spit it out and looked back up. “I asked for just juice.”

“It was sent from the gentleman over there,” the bartender pointed to a small alcove adjacent to them where none other than Aegon fucking Targaryen was sitting, legs splayed out like he owned the place (well, he did in some capacity, she supposed) and a lady on each arm. He had the biggest shit-eating grin she’d ever seen, staring right at her. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she put a hand on her forehead. “I’m leaving, Cregan. I don’t give a shit about the deal anymore.” 

“Shera, we’ve been here for five minutes–”

“Five minutes. It took five minutes for someone to somehow recognize me in this stupid red lighting– and not just someone, no, one of my childhood friends who hasn’t spoken to me in eons and is looking at me like I’m his next meal. Not to mention, my shithead brother didn’t mention that the club he is forcing me to go to is owned by said childhood friend’s family. I should’ve fucking guessed it with the red and black dress code, fucking pretentious. No offense, Jace,” she murmured, taking a breath. “I’m done.” she gathered her purse, slipping off of the seat. That vodka must’ve gone straight to her head, as she’d never been so adamant about something. Fuck it. She threw back the remainder of the glass of vodka cranberry (regretting it immediately) and flipped her brother another rude gesture.

She was so blinded by red– not just the color scheme, but the rage she felt bubbling as she rushed to the exit. The rage and anxiety was a more powerful cocktail than anything they served at the bar as she pulled out her phone with trembling hands, trying to call an uber. She didn’t look up the whole time, somehow managing to almost reach the gate to salvation– before she ran head first into a very hard body. A very hard body with a pointy fucking necklace on that stabbed her in the forehead. The force of her stumble was catastrophic, for her, as she fell to the ground on her ass. The hard body stayed upright, only shaken a little.

A heavily tattooed and, ahem, large calloused hand reached in front of her. She took it, half expecting to pull her own weight up, but was easily lifted to her feet. The hand was warm. Unnaturally warm. The smell of cigarette smoke and… sandalwood blew out her senses. She could feel his breath on her face as she swayed slightly into him– he was looking down at her directly, pupils boring holes into her. The heat of the situation rose into a fever pitch as they were practically pressed together, his hand straying to the small of her back so she wouldn’t fall over again. It felt terribly intimate.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry— I… the… I’m sorry,” she stammered, trying to get out some sort of explanation to why she’d accidentally used this person as a springboard, but it just came out in a string of unintelligible ramblings. Her heels clicked on the floor, stumbling back and forth.

“It’s fine,” he replied. The voice sounded familiar, but still somewhat faraway in her mind. “Are you alright? You seem… unsteady.”

 She wouldn’t be surprised if she had given herself a concussion from face planting into… she glanced up, eyes trailing the body before her. He was tall with expensive Italian leather shoes and impeccably pressed slacks. His shirt was red and only half buttoned, leaving a small patch of sheer white-blondish chest hair. His hands, which dwarfed hers, were inked in tattoos that seemingly stretched his body, peeking out on his exposed torso. 

The offending pointy necklace revealed itself; a golden pendant of a Seven-Pointed star. Her stomach dropped into her feet as she realized exactly who it was. 

Fuckfuckfuck. Meeting his gaze, it was none other than Aemond Targaryen. Her former best friend, companion, partner in crime. She expected his face to twist into a sneer like it had before at school and she wanted to vomit. I have to get out of here. 

“You’re bleeding,” he pointed to her forehead where she had consecrated herself with his pendant. A bit of blood was trickling from her skin. 

That is what he has to say? You’re bleeding? No hello Shera, hi Shera, I recognize you Shera? A frown made home on her face as she realized he might not even remember her. 

“Um, it’s… it’s fine,” she wiped the blood away with the back of her hand, feeling it being replaced with new droplets. “Sorry for running into you, sir.” Sir? What the fuck is wrong with you, Shera? 

“At least let me help you get cleaned up, yeah?” Aemond pressed, tilting up her head to most likely observe her wound– but it also felt like he was sizing her up, checking her out. “Only if you call me sir again.”

She made a garbled noise of surprise at his last comment, her mouth opening to try and spew out some half-assed cheeky reply. “I… I guess,” she murmured. She really just wanted to go home and cry and never leave the house again— but that stupid and childish part of her brain that hadn’t resurfaced itself since leaving school was nagging her. It felt sickly euphoric to her to see him again. She hated to be objectifying, but he had grown up to be, quite frankly, gorgeous. “S-... sir,” she squeaked out lastly, finally thankful for the gaudy lighting– without it, Aemond would’ve seen her face lit up like a tomato. 

He nodded with a ‘hm’ noise, leading her down a hallway to the far side of the Pantheon. It was lit up normally with sconces on the wall giving clear white light. It was obviously a staff-only path. 

Okay, Shera. Breathe. You can get through this. Let him put a bandaid on your head and hopefully not recognize or remember you and you can be on your way. You always wondered what he grew up to look like and now you know! Here is your little Aemond fix to mend the Aemond sized hole in your heart. Then you can move on and totally not wallow over this for weeks.

The office was nice– it was his, she knew instantly. It had tall bookshelves filled with different philosophers and big named authors, no doubt some of them first or second editions worth thousands. Shera felt like she was intruding, like she didn’t belong. She didn’t, really. Swaying side to side, she awaited further instruction.

“Come,” he said, not so much asking. He seemed to lack some manners these days– Alicent must be aghast.

She shuffled and took a seat in one of the chaise velvet seats in front of the desk. She fluffed into her coat, wanting to just hide, her muddled mind replaying the way he spoke. Come, come, come. Christ, I need to get laid– maybe I should call Helaena. The lights, still a bit low, weren’t a scathing fluorescent color like on the club floor. He could most certainly see the scar running down her face– and the fear she held in her eyes. 

Even though it was plain as day, he didn’t say anything. He opened a first aid kit, dabbing her forehead with peroxide soaked gauze, his expression watching her every movement. His gaze was almost snake-like, unblinking as he observed.

She hissed at the sting of it, gritting her teeth slightly. He only gave an answer of a slightly knit brow. 

It was silent— save for Shera’s quiet and slightly wheezy, squeaky breathing. Her hands were clenched on her knees, her dress riding up her skin, which she was constantly tugging downward. As he shuffled closer, one knee knocked between her two shaking ones. Was that an accident? The creeping heat only seemed to grow.

The soft beat of the music from the club coupled with the blood rushing in Shera’s ears made her want to scream. Everything seemed in slow motion as Aemond, still apparently a painstakingly asinine perfectionist, took his sweet time to patch her up. This gave her time to watch him in turn, focusing mostly on the way his lips were upturned, cupid’s bow taut. Flicking back up to his eyes, they were looking back and forth from her lips to her own gaze. The air around them seemed to go stagnant. Holy fuck, does he want to kiss me or do I have something on my face? 

Her eyes must’ve read confusion, panic, elation and all the things in between that go with wanting to kiss an almost stranger in a club– but he wasn’t exactly a stranger to her. But, she supposed she was to him. His fingers tilted her chin upward and his lips curled into a smug grin, auto completing her thoughts. 

He pressed a bandage to her forehead, mouth open to say something, like he was going to do something, but he was caught off guard by the door to his office slamming open. Shera didn’t even look to see who it was— she was more focused on the fact that Aemond goddamn Targaryen had a tongue piercing. She felt like she was going to melt.

“Hey Aem, that fuckin’ slag bit me— do you think I should go get a rabies shot or something?” a slightly slurred voice drawed. “Ohhh, shit.” Aegon stumbled into the room, leaning on the doorframe. He was, in fact, bleeding from his neck, some very prominent bite marks marring his skin, coupled with vicious looking hickies. 

“Busy,” Aemond grunted, focusing his gaze back on tending to Shera. 

“Like busy or… busy? I don’t see your hand up her skirt or anything, so you can’t be that busy.” 

“Fuck off, Aeg,” he continued, gritting his teeth in annoyance. “Seriously.” 

“Well, Criston wants to talk to you ‘bout throwing that girl out— since it is your management night, eh?”

The smallest breath of annoyance slipped from the younger brother’s lips. “I’ll be right back.” 

Aegon still loomed in the doorway after he left, staring at Shera. “You didn’t like my drink?” 

“I don’t really drink.” 

“And yet… you’re at a bar where they serve alcohol.” 

“I’m trying to leave,” she sniffed.

“Not hard enough apparently,” Aegon flicked open a lighter, taking a drag from a suddenly lit cigarette. “You look like a lost pup, Shera.” 

“You remembered me.” 

“I may have the IQ of a golden retriever but I’m not that stupid. I couldn’t exactly forget your bird’s nest of red hair or himbo of a brother. Seriously, all those body slams from hockey must’ve damaged his brain.” 

Shera snorted a little laugh. “Aemond doesn’t even seem to recognize me— or, he hasn’t said anything.” 

“He’s got his head too far up his own ass to recognize anything other than cunt. He’s more of a whore than I am these days,” he took a deep drag, puffing smoke out into the hall. “Don’t be surprised if he fingers you before he even asks for your name.” 

An unfamiliar feeling churned in Shera’s stomach. “I… I gotta go.” she huffed, grabbing her purse and walking past Aegon. She was biting down so hard on her lip that it started to bleed, the metallic taste savoring like lead on her tongue. 

She makes her way through the throngs of people, everything around her a blur. It seemed that Aemond didn’t remember or recognize her– fine, that was fine. She didn’t expect him to– who would, really? Her eye unwillingly caught a glance of his figure again on the outskirts of the club. He was talking to a woman dressed in a sparkling red dress, looking like Jessica fucking Rabbit. His hands eclipsed the woman’s hips as they were leaned close together, clearly in some sort of heated conversation. 

 Her throat felt slightly constricted as she pushed out of the exit door into the alley. Has she misread his signals? They were totally about to kiss before Aegon came in, right? 

He’s a bigger whore than me these days.

Fat tears rolled down her face unwillingly as she leaned on the brick wall of the alley, fumbling for her phone again. Why did it hurt? It was stupid, she was stupid– they hadn’t seen each other in eight years and he didn’t even recognize her– so why did it sting to see… that? 

She texts for an uber rather than calling as her emotions are in no place to talk to someone. She drops her phone on the concrete several times by how much she’s shaking– she doesn’t even hear the door of the club close with a creak behind her.

“You left. I wasn’t done patching you up,” Aemond slunk around into her line of sight, head bowed low to try to look at her face.

She swiveled to the side to hide her expression and distress in her phone. “... had to go, sorry,” she whispers, trying her best to sound like she wasn’t crying.

“I didn’t mean for him to interrupt us– my brother’s an idiot,” he was chasing her face. “Let me see.” he put his hand on her cheek and turned her face to him again. She let him, forever putty in his hands. If only he knew. If only he really cared.

His thumb wiped away some of the tears. “It doesn’t hurt that bad, does it?” he whispered, getting close to her once more like they were in the office. “I can always kiss it better, hm?” 

It felt like an invitation, the opening of a letter of acceptance to some grandiose college she could never afford, never fit into– but for one moment, she decided to bask in it. Let the hurt come later; it always comes later. He had been interested in some capacity. Not in her, not really her, but for some anonymous club fling. 

Fine.

“Why don’t you, then?” she returned, eyes half lidded under his heavy gaze.

It was all the consent he needed– their lips melded together, all tongues and teeth. It was borderline obscene, like they were attacking each other. His hand threaded through her hair, tongue tracing the outline of her cupid’s bow before tangling into her mouth. She felt the ball of his tongue piercing meld against her. He tasted like coffee and cigarettes– on anyone else, Shera would find it unpleasant, but she was so intoxicated on the idea that Aemond’s tongue was in her mouth, she didn’t care. She even would say she liked it.

Heat kindled between the two of them, coming to a roaring flame as he slotted his leg between her legs again– before must have just been a prelude, as he didn’t give any indication that his knee pressed against her clothed core was an accident. No, it was pure intention. He lofted some of her weight onto his leg, encouraging her to chase her pleasure, hand riding up her dress to grip her bottom firmly. 

She gave an experimental roll of her hips, finding her arousal and ever growing wetness to only increase, whimpering a small moan into his mouth. He, apparently liking that, pulled her back from his face by her hair, staring down at her like he wanted to commit her expression to memory.

“Come on,” he growled, voice husky against the shell of her ear. “Ride my fucking leg.” Aemond’s lips connected with her skin again on her neck. 

It felt like a lightning bolt struck her right in her core, making her toes curl and tingle. Her mouth was open as she pleasured herself on him, using him– she was approaching her end almost embarrassingly fast as he angled his leg a bit more upward, pinpointing all the pressure onto her clit, which at this point, was barely even guarded behind her panties. Aemond’s hand on her bottom slinked the elastic of her underwear until he reached the front, two fingers swiping down her soaked folds. 

“Soaked for me, are you?” he asked, parting her underwear to the side to rest against her thigh, her bare cunt now in direct contact with his clothed leg. She was surely making a mess on his expensive slacks, she didn’t even have to look. He quirked a brow and laved his tongue over one of the fingers that had just slid through her wetness, testing the taste. 

Her brow furrowed and the building heat, the harp’s string right in her core, came undone with that. She wanted to moan his name– she almost said it. “A–,” she cried, burying her face in his shoulder as she rode out her orgasm on his leg. 

“That’s a good girl,” Aemond praised, his words of affirmation going straight to her core. She did, unfortunately, have a praise kink. “Can you stand?” 

“Mmh– y-... yes,” she replied as he took away his leg– but not before sending her into slight overstimulation with a cheeky bump to her clit. 

“Good, stay there, love,” he pressed a kiss to her forehead (which felt strangely familiar out of this supposed random club hookup). “Wanna taste you now. You can give me one more, can’t you?” 

Her legs wobbled as he got down on his knees in the back alley on his no doubt designer pants (now painted with a souvenir from her) to eat her out. She could barely speak, just nodding.

“That’s right,” he hummed, squeezing into her thigh as he spread her legs. She was dripping right into his mouth as his warm lips made contact with her– he teased her slightly by blowing on her bare skin, chuckling as she squirmed and whimpered. “You’re too cute.” his tongue flattened and laved over her cunt, not letting a drop of her arousal go to waste as he went to town. He continued his teasing by edging just around her clit, making her chase his mouth slightly as he moved to suckle just outside of that spot.

It was torture. Sweet, sweet torture as he edged her for a good two minutes while she was already on the edge again. The coolness of his tongue piercing sent chills up her spine as he finally, finally began to zero in on her pearl, the ball of the piercing dancing around it, stimulating her to a delicious peak. 

“P-Please, please, please,” she whined, fisting his hair. 

He had the audacity to look up at her, face first in her thighs, and wink at her. All remnants of teasing were gone as he began to feast, focusing solely on pulling out her second orgasm. It didn’t even register to her, as she was clenching around nothing, tears welling in her eyes from the sheer intensity of her peak, that he hadn’t gotten off yet– she had hardly touched him. He was focusing all on her.

She went boneless for a moment as she came down from her high, almost moaning his name again. He held her until she came back down to earth. 

Her hands fiddled to his belt, she desperately wanted to return the favor– 

“Your uber’s here, love,” he murmured, helping her out of the alley to the car awaiting. She looked down, realizing her phone had been unlocked on the uber ETA screen. 

She was spinning still, reeling from the entire interaction. Next thing she knew, she was sitting in the back of her uber as Aemond stood, door in hand. 

“Bye, Shera.” he grinned, closing the door.

He knew the whole time.

[lunss-couture]

Light Green Tulle 3D Flower Leaf Bead Celebrity Prom Gown

Fairy and luxurious, this celebrity-inspired birthday prom dress is made of light green soft tulle adorned with sequin leaves. The sexy plunging halter V neckline, low back, and handmade 3D flowers on the skirt give this dress an edge.

[taylorswiftstyle]

The Eras Tour | Speak Now section | Version 6

Nicole + Felicia Couture custom

Besides debut having no section at all (as a debut stan, will I ever let this go? doubtful), I personally find it charming that the album with the shortest section as part of the Eras Tour setlist has the most amount of costume variations. A lot of people have asked me, “Why?”

It’s simple: It's extra. It's dramatic. It's couture. It’s for the fun of it. For the costuming of it!

It's a moment to deliver on frivolity and flights of ephemeral whimsy. For an album that's all about clinging to those last vestiges of girlhood, of innocence, of believing in fairytales and happily ever afters ... Why wouldn't you want to hold on to spinning around in a giant ball gown and relive those times when you last believed in the good in the world - right before being dashed at the foot of an ivory tower? These gowns are an embodiment and a fulfillment of those remaining hopes in true love. 

But back to this particular dress - the first on the final night of six in Los Angeles and also the final night of the U.S. leg of the Eras Tour (2023 Version). It was our first tip off that there was, indeed, a lot going on at the moment. And that makes sense to me because why not connect and segue her most recently released TV album with the next one set to be released. Creating a throughline for her projects through fashion? Yes - I am here for it. By doing this, it underlines the project while also reminding people of where she's at in the journey to reclaim her first six albums. Three down, the fourth to come.I’m personally a sucker for a high, halter neckline like this and the crystal embellishments here? Swoon-worthy.

Based on the comet-like embellishments that light up across the gown I had guessed that this designer would be Zuhair Murad, who designed Version 2 of this dress which featured similar details, but no! The intricate beadwork and 3D floral embellishments here are bespoke Nicole + Felicia who now take the lead in creating gowns for this section of the show - having created half of the six (Versions 1, 5, and 6).

[wrightingdungeon]

SDV Bachelors seeing you in a swimsuit for the first time Pt1

AFAB Farmer

Alex: Alex had been so used to seeing you in skirts, long sleeves, and hijab-covered modestly that it made him double-take when you said you'd like to join him on the beach. He had no idea what your hair looked like, and the idea of seeing you go from modest to a swimsuit made him blush. When he saw you approach him covered head to ankle he blinked slowly having no idea what you were wearing. “It's a burkini! You like it?” You asked posing quickly. You wore a vibrant burkini with a blue base adorned with white and brown leopard spots. The long-sleeved top provided full coverage with a modest neckline, and the matching leggings were a change from the skirts he was used to seeing, but you stood confident and elegant as you always had. ���Yeah, it's adorable, it suits you well.”

Elliot: Sitting on the shore he looked out to the ocean hoping the crashing sounds of the waves would help him with his writer's block, maybe the waves would wash away the fog like they eroded the beach line. “What ya doing Elliot?” Hearing you behind him he looked up smiling seeing you holding a beach bag, wearing a light pink bikini set. The top features a halter neckline holding snugly to your upper body. The bottom consists of a skirted bikini with a side slit, adding a playful and feminine touch, It looked like one of Emily's crochet projects. “Just trying to work on my book, and you?” He asked leaning back onto his palms and relaxing at your arrival. “Taking time to myself looks like you need to do the same.” Elliot laughed not able to disagree with you at that observation.

Harvey: He was busy applying sunscreen and ensuring his sun hat was well-adjusted ready to enjoy a day off, he hadn't heard you sneaking up in the sand. “Hey, Harvey! Taking a day off?” He nearly fell out of his chair, crushing the brim of his hat a bit from gripping it tightly. “Oh hi Farmer, yes I-” His voice got caught in his throat as he turned to look at you, dressed in a light peach one-piece swimsuit adorned with bright and light orange flowers, complemented by small green leaves. The neckline plunges to the solar plexus and is accentuated with delicate ruffles. The thick straps holding your shoulders firm ensure the top doesn't slip more than desired. “Getting sunburned already Doc?” Hearing you teasing him made him realize how warm his cheeks felt.

Sam: Sam groaned watching Vincent play in the water, he loved his brother but wanted to go into town with Sebastian and Abigail, not babysit his brother. “This blows man…” he leaned his head over letting out a sigh. “I think the sun feels rather good.” Looking up he smiled hearing your familiar voice, his eyes looked over your swimsuit taking in the high-waisted bottoms and halter top it was a cute little vintage number, the white with bright yellow lemons and green leaves looked playful and cheerful. “Got stuck babysitting?” you teased, smirking softly already knowing the answer. “Yeah..” He said his voice trailing off, seeing your hand in front of his face he looked up at you. “Well let's go get in the water, mopey pants.” You said pulling him up and dragging him to join his little brother.

Sebastian: You had offered to teach him to surf if he taught you how to ride a motorcycle. “You want me to dress like a traffic cone?” Looking at the neon Orange wet suit you had given him, he looked back up and saw you wearing an identical one, its long sleeves hugged your arms, the bikini-style bottom contrasting against your skin. “Hey if you get swept out to sea you can be found ten times easier than wearing black.” You said informing him of how to be safe in the water. “Fine but you have to wear a safety vest next time we ride my bike.” He groaned turning to go and change into the neon wetsuit. “Hey! If it means I get saved faster Gladly!.” He chuckled hearing your quip as he shut himself in the changing room.

Shane: He leaned his head back smiling softly feeling the warm sun on his skin, he heard giggles coming from Jas. Peeking an eye open he smiled seeing you were leaning over talking to Jas whispering about something. He chuckled softly at your swimsuit, a wife pleaser for a shirt, your black bikini top showing slightly against the white, your black swim shorts mid-length, extending to just above the knee it wasn't flashy but it was you. Closing his eyes he smiled knowing he could take a nap with you being there. Feeling warm sand get poured on him and hearing Jas’s high-pitched giggles he opened his eyes seeing the two of you quickly trying to bury him in the sand.

[cherrycola27]

the darkest little paradise

Series Warnings: Mafia!AU. Language, drugs, alcohol, death, violence, smut. Minors DNI. 18+. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

Masterlist Next Part

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Prologue: The Auction

It had been sixteen years since you'd been home. Sixteen years since you made the biggest mistake of your life and your father shipped you off to boarding school in Italy.

You'd learned a lot in those sixteen years. You redeemed yourself in your father's eyes and helped grow the family business. You were certain that he was going to give you back your birthright and make you his successor once again. Something you had lost that faithful night.

But before he could, he died, tragically, suddenly—suspiciously.

You were sure it was at the hands of your younger brother. He'd always been jealous of you. You were positive that he set you up all those years ago and convinced your father that he would be a better heir to the empire.

You knew that he killed your father to keep him from handing you the business.

You just had to prove it.

You hated being back in the States. But your brother forced you to come back by having your assets frozen. It was wither come home, sell your body, or starve. Honestly, the last two options don't seem so bad now.

Thankfully, you wouldn't have to face him today. Instead, you were making an appearance in his honor at a charity auction at your country club. It was a masked bachelor's auction. Feral men and women with more money than they had sense would bid on attractive men from the community like they were prized cattle. To make it more anonymous, everyone masks. It added to the appeal.

You knew that these auction weren't supposed to end in an R-rated way, but you knew more often than not, they did. That's exactly what you were hoping for.

Your brother was supposed to be one of the bachelors tonight, but he was called away on "business." His right hand and second in command would be stepping in for him. You planned on spending whatever amount it took to take him home with you tonight.

Your brother would kill you if he knew what you were planning, but you didn't care. This was all a part of the long game that you were playing.

You reached into your clutch purse and took our mirror, and checked your reflection. Your red lipstick was still perfect. The silvery- grey mask your wore looked flawless and complimented your outfit well.

You were dressed in your signature color— sapphire blue. The liquid silk gown you had chosen flowed over your body and hugged your neck with a beautiful halter neckline. You had platinum and pearl and sapphire earrings dangling from your lobes.

Your mother's well loved sapphire and diamond ring was snug on your right hand, where it had lived ever since she passed.

Your driver turned into the country club and made his way up the long driveway before pulling up to the front doors where an actual red carpet had been rolled out. You rolled tour eyes at the spectacle that was being made. Sure, the theme of the evening was "Hollywood Glamour," but this felt like a bit much.

Nevertheless, you put your mirror away and grabbed the snow-white fur stole from the seat beside you and draped it between your elbows. It was the same color as the fine powder that you finally was infamous for.

Your father always told people he made his money through a hedge fund, but really, your family fortunate came from the drug trade, cocaine to be specific.

While you personally didn't participate in the use of your family product, you could sell the hell out of it. You introduced it to the upper crust circle of Europe and expanded business ten-fold for your father.

And as much as you wish you could say your family's real business was a secret, you knew it wasn't. Your father had every politician and lawman in his back pocket. You could get away with anything because of who you were.

You sat patiently as you waited for your car door to be opened. Soon, Raphael, your driver opened the door and extended his hand for you. "Remember, pick me up at seven tomorrow morning." You reminded him.

Raphael nodded his head before a tuxedo clad man escorted you to your seat. "Can I get you a drink, ma'am?" He asked you as you settled into your table at the back of the room, away from everyone else.

"Gin martini, chilled glass, lemon twist." You told him without looking up. He quickly scurried away as one of the organizers from the club brought you your auction paddle.

"Good evening, Miss Sapphire." A voice call to you. "Donny." You said as your personal security guard came and took a seat beside you. A black leather breif case tucked under his arm.

"Do you have it?" You asked him as your martini was set down in front of you. "Yes, ma'am." Donny replied. "Good." You said as you took a sip of your drink.

...............

The auction was just as you had predicted. Women and their perfectly manicured nails and men with their expensive cufflinks zealously bidded, all in the name of charity of course.

You bided your time, sipping your martini, waiting for him to come up.

Finally, the emcee announced him. "Ladies and gentlemen, we've saved the best for last, so get your paddles and your checkbooks ready for bachelor lucky number thirteen, or as we like to call him, Rooster!"

A roar of applause went up as he took the stage. And why wouldn't it? Rooster was handsome in his blue suit that he had paired with a red and blue statement dress shirt. The first few buttons were undone, giving the people a peak and the tone, tanned skin underneath. He had a matching blue mask across his eyes, and a pair of Italian leather loafers on his feet. You could see the glint of the Montblanc watch sticking out from under the sleeve of suit, and the thick gold ring he wore on his pinky.

You had to admit, he looked good. Gone was the scrawny half grown kid you remembered your father taking all those years ago. Just be he shipped you off.

He had been replaced by a man, tall, handsome, and brawny with years of heartache behind his eyes.

"Let's start the bidding for a date with the handsome Rooster at twenty-five thousand dollars." The emcee said.

Paddles immediately went up. You signaled for Donny to raise yours. The bidding climbed higher and higher, passing one hundred thousand. "Jump the bid to a quarter of a million." You told Donny. It was a strategy you had learned from your father, jumping the bid normally deterred the competition.

"Are you sure?" Donny asked you. "Yes." You told him.

"Two-hundred fifty thousand." Donny said as he raised your paddled. There was a gasp followed by murrmers from the crowd. The emcee continued with fewer participants. You growled in frustration as the amount climbed higher you continued to bid, having Donny jump it again to half a million. You thought for sure that would win, but a brunette at the front of the room countered your bid.

You were locked in a bidding war with her. It was a battle to see who would give first. Finally, you told Donny, "One million. Bid it. Now."

"Ma'am, I—" Donny stuttered. You shot him a deadly glare. He swallowed before lifting your paddled and loudly proclaiming your bid. The room went silent. "Wow, one million dollars. Do I hear one point one million?" The emcee asked. The brunette shook her head.

"Okay, one million going once, twice. Sold to bidder number six one six." The emcee said as he announced the end of the auction and next steps. You quickly took the brief case from Donny before giving him a hotel key card and a set of instructions to give to Rooster.

You then went to pay your debt. The country club treasurer was quite shocked when you presented her with the million dollars in cash, but was thankful for your "donation." Once your debt was clear, Donny drove you to the Four Seasons. He has an idea of what you had planned, but he knew better than to say anything.

Once there, you made your way in the back entrance and up to your penthouse suite and waited for Rooster.

Room service already had champagne, caviar, and a full bar cart stocked for you.

Thirty minutes after your arrival, Rooster entered the living area of the suite.

"Hello there, Rooster. Can I get you a drink?" You asked him as he made his way into the room. His eyes flitted about, taking in every detail.

"Cognac. If you have it." He said hesitantly. You poured a glass for the both of you before gesturing for him to sit. You stood across from him, watching as he took the drink from you and took a long sip.

You couldn't get a full read on him, but the way his eyes were roaming over your body, you knew you'd be able to seduce him.

You took a seat across from him. Neither of you spoke.

"So— what did you have in mind for the evening?" He asked you. You knew that Bradley was smart enough to know what you had planned.

You didn't answer him. Instead, you stood up and unhooked the top of your dress and pulled the side zipper down. The garment pooled at your feet, revealing the lingerie you had on underneath.

You then sat back down in your chair and kicked your shoes up on the table. The red soles matched your lipstick.

You took another sip of your drink as Rooster sighed and raked his hands through his sandy blonde curls.

"This isn't that kind of date, ma'am." Rooster protested.

You leaned back into the chair and brought the crystal glass of cognac to your lips. He watched you, tentatively as you sipped the rich liquid.

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear. I paid a million dollars for a small slice of your time, sir. That's quite a bit of money. More than you're worth. So, this evening is what I say it is, Mr. Bradshaw." You smirk back at him. You tilt your head to the side as if to dare him to challenge you.

"How do you know my name?" He asks you.

"I'm a very powerful woman, Bradley. I belong to a very powerful family. It's my business to know everyone I associate myself with." You tell him.

He stands up and moves closer to you. You give him a wink.

His feet stay rooted in place as he looks you over. He devoured every inch of the sapphire blue lingerie that you were clad in. You could tell he appreciated the way the bustier hugged your breasts and how he was enticed by the bows tied atop the garters you wore.

"Well, Miss—" He trailed off, still not knowing your name.

"Sapphire. You can call me Sapphire." You filled in the blank for him.

"Well, Sapphire, what exactly did you have in mind?" Bradley asked you with a teasing smirk.

"I want you to take off that Armani suit and show me why they call you Rooster." You replied with no hesitation in your voice.

Bradley chuckled as he reached for his cufflinks. He dropped them, and his watch unceremoniously onto the table before sliding off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. He twisted his pinky ring a few times before giving you a devilish grin.

Your lips curled as you sat up straighter.

He stalked over to you before planting a hand on each arm of your chair. That's when you knew you had him.

Perfect.

Everything was going according to plan.

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