#lilacs lace and longing

[cinematic-literature]

She-Devil (1989) by Susan Seidelman

Book title: Lilacs, Lace and Longing by Mary Fisher

[satoruan]

ONE LAST TIME — GETO SUGURU & GOJO SATORU

✧ ˒ — you’ve been invited to your old fuck buddy's wedding and the best man feels that the three of you have unfinished business.  

( TW ) Fem!reader. explicit content. porn with some feelings (not rlly but also rlly). reader is a slut. cheating. mentions of reader sleeping with other people. MFM. spit roasting. blow job. P -> V. unprotected sex. cream pie. face riding. fingering. squirting.  

word count - > 2.2k  

author note. the last time I’ll re upload this fic 😔 tumblr hates it for some reason!!

Satoru had been sending you winks and sly smirks throughout the night. He finally has the balls to text during the middle of the feast.  

Satoru: Enjoying the wedding?

you: Yep! Best wedding I’ve been to.

Satoru: So, you aren’t the slightest bit jealous?

you: Jealous? And why would I be? The only one jealous here is you because ‘Sugu is getting married before you’.

Satoru: Pchss I don’t want to be held down and forced to fuck one person for the rest of my life, wouldn’t you agree y/n?

you: Shut up, that was so long ago, you’re the only one who remembers or cares about that.

Satoru: I doubt that.

you: Doubt all you want Toru. Suguru and I are over It so let go. It’s been years.

Satoru: So, if I told you ‘Sugu invited you because he wanted one last night with you?

you: Shut up Toru, he’s married.

You cross your legs and look up, automatically spotting Satoru sitting at one of the tables up front, absorbed in his phone. You quickly look away and scan the room, where you find Geto. Your face heats up as you notice him staring at you intently, clearly ignoring his wife, who is trying to get his attention. Feeling flustered, you hurriedly lower your gaze back to your phone.

Satoru: I’m not lying! He even told me at his bachelor party that he misses the old days...

The old days when you spent your college years filled with their cum. You had a cock stuffed inside of you almost every day. The boys weren’t always available, so you had to get creative.   

Satoru: Meet me in the bathroom?’

you: Nope, I told you I’ve changed.

Satoru: Stop lying y/n.

you: I’m not!

Satoru: Then what were you doing with Nanami and his friends?  

You choke on your spit, how did he—you were going to kill Nanami the next time you saw him. You didn’t think anyone else had seen you leave the office that night. Fuck. Fuck. You were absolutely going to kill him. You glance back up and make eye contact with Satoru, who tilts his head and licks his lips. His white hair falls into his face. He looks so utterly fuckable.   

Satoru: You want me to beg? Tell you how much I missed your tight pussy and pouty lips?

‘Keep talking…’ You text. Fuck it. You missed Satoru too, it’s been years, and it wasn’t as if you parted on bad terms—you wouldn’t mind fucking him one more time. One last time, as a goodbye.  

Satoru: Miss your cute little moans and your tight ass and how your pretty little hands looked wrapped around my cock. I miss the cuddles after it. I miss everything, pretty girl.

you: One more time Satoru. This is the last time! 

Satoru: meet me at the family bathroom in 5 ;) 

—  

“Fuckin’ missed you.” Satoru groans into your mouth, throwing you onto the counter. You wrap your legs around his wide hips as he grabs your hair. “Toru, don’t fucking mess up my hair, what do you think they’ll say when I come out with a bird’s nest instead of my fancy wedding hair.”  

“Sorry, pretty girl,” he murmurs against your lips, moving his hands to your waist. You pull him closer to you. The familiarity of his hands and mouth on you makes you melt.

Satoru breaks away and sinks to his knees. He pushes your sheer lilac dress up above your ass and rolls his eyes back into his head.  

“Missed this pussy.” He inhales. Thumbing your clit above your white lace panties. You grab onto his hair and moan.   

“Toru—”  

“Shh—let me show you how much I’ve missed this pussy sweet girl,” He leans in to lick your damp panties. “Show me.”  

Desperate for an orgasm you obey, sliding the flimsy lace to the side and parting your slick pussy with two fingers. Satoru leans in immediately to lick you entirely.   

“Satoru!” You cry, the grip his hair tightening as he eats you like a starved man. You fall back onto the mirror and hump his face as he sucks your clit.  

“Gonna cum Toru! Don’t stop, please, please, don’t stop!” You slur, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he stuffs three thick fingers into your achy cunt. He curls them to hit your g-spot, the spot that he discovered existed long ago.   

“M’cumming!” You moan removing your hand from your pussy to grip the edges of the counter. Your pussy convulses around Satoru's fingers.  

“Not gonna stop ‘till you squirt for me,” He mumbles against your clit. “You can do it—good girl.” He goes back to sucking your clit. It doesn’t take long until you're squirting all over his face. Eyes squeezed shut and ears ringing, you don’t notice that someone walks into the large restroom because the man between your legs never locked the door.  

“Was I not invited to the party?” Suguru shoots the two of you.   

You pull yourself up, your legs swinging around Satoru's head.

“Sugu!” You squeak.  

Satoru tries to say something, but he’s trapped between your thighs.

“No, Sugu, we were just getting started. Isn’t that right, pretty?” He coughs, standing up with a soaked shirt and a glistening face. He grins at his Suguru.

He pulls his gaze away from his best friends and looks at you. You're staring at him with wide eyes, your legs tightly closed as if he’s never seen what’s between them before. He steps closer to you. “Is that right, y/n?” You suck in a breath and nod.

“Y-yes.”   

“Then why are you hiding that slutty pussy from me.”   

“You’re a taken man now ‘Sugu–”   

“And that's gonna stop you?”  

“Why don’t you go fuck your wife?” You snap, crossing your arms over your chest and returning your attention to Satoru. “Are we gonna finish this or what?”   

“Don’t look away from me, y/n,” Suguru says, crossing the space between you and grasping your chin. “She’s nothing like you—too traditional and stuck up. She doesn’t hold a candle to you.”  

“Yeah?” You blink up at him through wet lashes, your heart fluttering. You uncross your legs and slowly lift them to Suguru's thick hips.

“Nothing—no one compares,” he says as he draws your face closer to his.

“Do you promise?” you whisper shyly, your lips brushing against his.

“Promise,” he teases before catching your swollen lips. Your back arches, legs clinging to his suit-clad waist. His lips taste like watermelon-scented Chapstick—it must be his wife's. You bite his bottom lip and giggle at the thought.

“How long you got before your wifey comes lookin’ for you?” Satoru asks.  

“Not long, about ten minutes at most.” Suguru rolls his eyes, catching your lips again.   

“You gonna take me in the mouth and let ‘Sugu fuck your cunt, angel? Think you can get us off in ten minutes?”   

“Sith time to spare.” You smirk up at Satoru who smiles and starts to unbuckle his pants. His heavy cock jumps out, tip leaking precum.  

“Come here then, sweetheart.” Suguru pulls you off the counter and flips you towards Satoru. He pushes you down until you are folded at the waist. You grab onto Satoru’s thick thighs, his cock jumping on the side on your face. You look up at him and smile before turning slightly to peck his shaft.  

“Stop teasing—be a good girl and put it in your mouth before I mess up your ‘fancy weddin’ hair.’” He teases. You glare up at him—about tell him off, but as soon as you open your mouth Suguru shoves his thick cock into your wet pussy. You scream.  

“Shut her up ‘Toru!” Suguru spits out between groans. You clench so tight around him he tries not to cum prematurely.   

You move to take Satoru’s cock before he has a chance to fuck up your hair any more than he already has. His cock hits the back of your throat, and you thank the gods above you don’t have a gag reflex. You start to bob your head down his stiff cock, careful not to nick him with your teeth.  

Suguru starts to thrust in and out, hands gripping your hips so tight you know your hips will be bruised for the next week.  

“So fuckin’ tight,” Suguru grunts throwing his head back. “Tightest cunt I‘ve ever fucked.”  

You moan around Satoru’s cock.   “Missed this warm mouth.” Satoru moans, thrusting his hips into your face. Suguru follows his lead.

“You miss havin’ two cocks in you, oh wait, you still get fucked like this weekly by—fuck—by Nanami’s entire office floor.” Mouth full of cock, you don’t even attempt to defend yourself, it’s true anyways.  

“We’re still you're favorites or did you forget about us after college, hm? So many cocks you forgot about the first two.” Suguru slams you down the entire length of his cock, so hard Satoru’s cock falls out your mouth. Satoru grips your jaw, ignoring the spit and precum that falls onto his hands.  

“Is that true pretty, you forgot about the men who taught you how to take cock?”  

“N-no,” you moan out, Suguru's cock filling you up so good you hardly remember how to breath.   

“Never f-forget you guys, never ever.” You promise.  

“Then prove it, suck my cock just how I taught you.”

You shudder in pleasure before shamelessly grabbing ‘Toru’s cock and shoving it back in your mouth, determined to get him off. You bounce your head up and down his shaft, licking and sucking the tip, just like he taught you.   

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum.” ‘Toru grits out, forgoing the rule about touching your hair. He holds your head to his pelvis thrusting into your mouth so hard you start to get lightheaded, pair that with Suguru's thick cock pushing against your pelvis, and you’re surprised you haven't passed out.  

“M’cummin, f-fuck m’ gonna cum” Satoru groans shooting thick ropes into your throat. You swallow down every sip, eyes rolling to the back of your head when Suguru’s thrusts turn sloppy.

“C-Cum in my pussy ‘Sugu!” You cry against Satoru’s softening cock.  

“What was that Sweetheart?” Suguru pulls you put by the scruff of your neck. “What did you say?”  

“S-said cum in me, please!” You cry, your hands reaching for the hand around your neck.  

“M’gonna cum deep inside in you Sweetheart, gonna cum so deep you’ll e scooping it out for days,” Your pussy clenches at the thought. “You wan’ that, hm? You want my cum?”   

“Please, please, please!” You beg.  

“Take it then—” He slams into your ass, cumming deep inside your pussy causing you to orgasm at the feeling of being filled to the brim.  

“Fuck that felt amazing.” Suguru mumbles into your now fucked up hair. At that thought you open your eyes and glare at Satoru.  

“What?” He questions, stuffing himself back into his pants.  

“You messed up my hair.” You grumble. Suguru laughs behind you, gently slipping his now soft cock out of you. You clench your cum-filled pussy while Suguru situates your thong back in place, he pats your pussy. You’re suddenly hit with a pang of nostalgia and the old routine. Memories of the three of you coming to the forefront of your mind. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this. Somedays all you think about is how you wish you could just go back to the days when you fucked the boys like a bunny in heat. The days when you laid on Suguru’s chest after long days and thought about what your life would be like if you settled down with him. You’d give anything to go back.  

“Suguru, you in here?”  

“Shit!”  

—  

“Is she okay?” Suguru’s wife frowns, looking at you slumped over the toilet.  

“She's just drunk, she always acts like this around alcohol and can't help herself when it comes to taking as many shots as she can get her hands on.” Satoru smirks, and you roll your eyes beneath your arm

“Why’s your shirt wet?”   

“She let loose and threw up all over me, had to get creative.”   

“C'mon babe, let's get back to the party, Satoru will help clean her up.” Suguru puts his hand on his wife’s back gently guiding her out of the restroom.  

“Okay, be quick Satoru, we're about to do another round of speeches, the crowd loves you.” 

[healmydesires]

Ok so the recent post that you made on my filthy thot Logan how about you take the led of dominance one night instead of Logan and he absolutely loves it

a/n: nonnie, this is sooooo hot. I kinda had to adjust it a bit tho <3 hope you don’t mind! thank you for sending this!!! 🩷 mwah

you got my attention ꕤ (l.h)

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

summary: Though Logan lets you take control and show your appreciation, in the end, you're still the one begging for him.

genre: smut (with some fluff in the end tbh) (18+ mdni)

word count: 5,8k

warnings/tags: established relationship, same universe as this fic, porn with barely no plot, reader is described as shorter than logan, lap dance, unprotected sex, piv sex, soft!dom logan, sub!reader, use of handcuffs, slight choking, dry humping, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, slight orgasm denial / edging but it’s short ngl, overstimulation, face sitting, doggy, rough sex, major size kink, praise kink, dirty talk. some daddy kink? breeding kink fuck sorry. I wrote this while I’m on my period lol. lots of pet names. this is high key filthy. reader has hair, no further description though. after care. this is not beta read sorry!

this goes without saying, but if you don't like it don't read it <3

AO3 • masterlist

You're sitting on the bed you share with Logan, waiting for him to enter the bedroom where you're dressed in soft, pastel lilac lace lingerie. You've been intimate with Logan many times before, so you know what to expect, but this time feels a little different. Your heart is racing, and you're feeling a bit anxious. Logan usually takes control in the bedroom, but tonight, you've been wondering what it would be like if you were the one to take the lead.

If there's one thing you love doing, it's teasing Logan. You thrive on the thrill of acting out just to get a reaction from him, and you enjoy being a brat more than anything. You love being submissive, and there's nothing you'd rather be. 

But the thought of making him feel like you're in control, even if only for a few minutes, gets you all hot and bothered. You know Logan might take back control quickly, but just having that moment of power excites you.

You’ve always thought that stripping for Logan or putting on a show would be something fun to try one night. The idea of showing him how much you appreciate him by dancing to sensual music while he sits back on a chair or the couch, watching your body move, excites you. Just thinking about it makes you feel hot and turned on.

Logan’s entrance pulls you out of your thoughts as the door swings open. His eyes lock on you immediately, taking in the sight of the delicate lingerie clinging to your skin. “Hi, pretty girl,” he says with a playful smile, clearly appreciating the little fabric you're wearing. 

The lingerie you’re wearing is a lilac set with turquoise and lilac flowers embroidered onto the lace. The cups of your balconette bra are pretty transparent unless it’s for the floral details at the top to the middle of the cups, barely covering your nipples. You can see his eyes travel from your chest to your waist as he takes in the elastic band, covered with the same lace pattern, of the suspenders. His eyes linger a bit too long as he takes in the small thing that barely hides the curves of your ass. A matching thong, the elastic band sitting just below your suspenders. Logan’s eyes wander from your covered core to your shoulders as he notices the lilac see through robe with lacy details hanging off your shoulders loosely.

“Hi,” you manage to respond, your voice soft and trembling. Your cheeks heating up as his intense gaze travels up and down your body, sending a wave of warmth through you. For a brief second, you feel the familiar pull to submit, to let him take control like always. But then you remind yourself to stick to your original intentions.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. Sticking to your original plan, you clear your throat and muster the courage to speak, despite the stutter. “C-could you, uh, sit in the chair?” You ask, nervously. Logan raises an eyebrow, intrigued by your request.

An amused smile then tugs at the corners of his lips as he nods briefly, surprised but clearly understanding what you're trying to do. “Are you asking or telling?” Logan teases, his voice smooth, challenging, and dripping with amusement.

The playful tone sends a shiver through you, momentarily shaking your confidence. You know he’s testing you, waiting to see if you’ll follow through. Swallowing the nervousness building inside you, you take a slow, deep breath, determined to stick to your plan, no matter how intimidating his presence feels right now.

His response makes your heart pound in your chest. Mustering up every ounce of confidence you can find, you lock eyes with him and say, “I said go sit in the chair.” The words feel foreign on your tongue, definitely out of character for you, but there's a spark of amusement in Logan's eyes that encourages you to keep going.

You can tell he’s entertained by this rare side of you, and though it feels strange, the thrill of his reaction pushes you to stick with it. His eyebrow raises slightly, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips, and for a moment, you feel a rush of control that excites you even more.

Logan never takes his eyes off you as he makes his way to the chair in the corner of the room. Settling into it, he leans back, his posture relaxed, yet his gaze remains sharp and unwavering. You watch as takes off his shirt and pulls down his jeans, exposing his hard cock pressing against his boxers. The look he gives you, despite your attempt to take control, makes it clear he still holds the power. His mischievous eyes silently tell you he could end your little fantasy whenever he chooses, effortlessly reminding you of who’s really in charge, even as he watches you with quiet anticipation.

Logan watches you walk towards the closet, opening it before you kneel down on the soft carpet in front of it as your hand tries to reach for something inside the closet. His eyes travel to your ass, observing your curves, how plump your ass looks. The way your cheeks squeeze the barely there material between them.

You can practically feel his eyes burning into you—more specifically, your ass—because you know exactly where he's staring. The heat of his gaze makes you bite your bottom lip in anticipation. After rummaging for a moment, you finally find what you’re looking for and stand up slowly, making sure to give Logan a lingering view of your curves. The sound of his low groan reaches your ears, sending a thrill through you. You close the closet doors and turn around, carefully hiding the vivid pink, silky handcuffs you picked up along with the lingerie just days ago.

Keeping the handcuffs tucked behind your back, you walk slowly toward him, not quite ready to reveal your little secret yet. As you reach him, you lean down to plant a soft, teasing kiss on his lips. It ends far too quickly for his liking, and a deep grunt escapes his throat as you pull away, leaving him wanting more. Your hand trails lightly from one of his shoulders, across his chest, to the other, the soft touch of your fingers making his skin feel like it's on fire. You can feel the tension radiating off him, his body almost trembling from the contact, as you circle behind him. You know he could moan from just the simple touch, and the thought of having him on edge excites you even more.

You take the handcuffs, the sound of the metal clinking behind him making Logan’s ears perk up. You hook one around his wrist, half-expecting him to protest, but when he remains silent, you continue and secure the other cuff in place. You lift your head to his neck, leaning down to press a soft kiss at his pulse point, making him moan as you finish up behind him. Walking back to face him, you notice a playful smile spread across his face, a look that makes your heart race.

“What?” you ask, mirroring his amused expression, but a sudden wave of self-consciousness washes over you as you realise he’s not taking you seriously at all.

“Nothing, princess,” Logan shrugs, his grin widening. 

You roll your eyes at his nonchalance. “Sure.” Normally, on any other day, Logan would have you pinned beneath him or bent over his knee, spanking you until your skin is flushed and raw. But tonight, he finds it endearing to watch you take charge. So, instead of resisting, he decides to lean into it. In fact, he’s more than willing to let you explore this new dynamic and see just how far you’ll take it.

Then, you lean down and plant a soft kiss just beneath his ear, eliciting a deep groan from him. “Now sit back and watch. Let me take care of you,” you whisper seductively in his ear, your breath warm against his skin. With that, you glide toward the desk, feeling the thrill of anticipation coursing through you as you search for the perfect song to dance to. 

A smile spreads across your face as you finally settle on a track that feels just right. Pressing play, the smooth beats of "Sway" by Majid Jordan fill the room, setting the mood with its sultry rhythm. As the music envelops you, you can sense Logan’s eyes on you, filled with a mix of curiosity and desire. The moment feels electric, and you know it’s time to give him a show he won’t forget.

You stride toward the bed, positioning yourself right in the center of the room, directly in front of him. As the singer begins to croon the lyrics, you let the robe slide down your shoulders, pausing just at your elbows, deliberately teasing him with each movement. Swaying your hips slowly to the beat of the song, you lick your lips, feeling the heat of his gaze on you. 

With each deliberate motion, your hands glide slowly up and down your chest, accentuating your curves as you keep your eyes locked on his. You circle your hips, letting the rhythm guide you, fully aware of the effect it has on him. The air is thick with tension, and you can feel the desire radiating from him, fueling your confidence as you embrace the moment.

Temptation, conversation, I hear what you sayin'~♪ 

You lose yourself to the song as you move your body closer to his, still keeping a good distance between you two. 

“Baby girl, you’re so hot…” Logan groans as his eyes admire your body, his eyes flicking back and forth from one place to the other like he doesn’t know where to look.

Playing safe but we're losing our patience~♪ 

With each sway (literally, like the title of the song) of your hips, you move to the rhythm of the song, feeling the music pulse through you as you notice his gaze tracing the curves of your body, lingering over every dip and contour.

The combination of his awestruck expression and your confident movements sends a thrill through you, urging you to keep going. You enjoy the way he watches, almost hypnotised, as you revel in the moment, fully aware that you’re in control.

Doin' things that my body is cravin'~♪ 

Your fingers wander from your hips to your backside and you squeeze your cheeks softly as you give Logan a show. The moment he sees you touching yourself like this, a low moan escapes his lips, and you can’t help but bite your own in response, revelling in the effect you have on him.

The pleasure of his gaze fuels your confidence, making you feel even more desirable. You relish the way he watches, captivated and hungry for more, as you continue to tease him, lost in the thrill of the moment.

So amazing the way that she moves~♪ She's my favorite dancer~♪ 

Seductively, you slowly turn around, then you sink yourself to the floor. Once on your knees, you crawl steadily towards him. As you’re slowly making your way to him, you’re never breaking eye contact as you smile up at him. 

As you draw closer, you rise up onto your knees, your hands gliding along his ankles and tracing up to his thighs. You gently spread his legs wider, making room for yourself between them. Logan's breath hitches in his throat at your boldness, and you can’t help but smile coyly as you bite your bottom lip, savouring his reaction. 

Your hands continue their journey, moving from his thighs to his hips and then to his waist, feeling the heat radiating off him. Slowly but sensually, you rise in front of him, each movement deliberate, exuding confidence and allure as you prepare to captivate him even further.

“You’re breathtaking…” he moans your name while your lips move to ghost over his lips. You feel and see his squirm against the hold of the handcuffs.

You smirk as you hover your hips over his lap. Using the music to your advantage, you move your body to the rhythm of the song, making sure to emphasise on your movements. Your arms around his neck as you slowly lower your lower body on his lap, sitting down, your heat against his clothed cock straining against his underwear. Pressing your needy and throbbing clit against his dick. His eyes are gazing into yours, all you can see is lust and desire. You grind against his crotch making Logan groan at your movements. Finally you lean down your lips against his, swallowing his moans in your mouth. 

“You’re the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen.” He whispers breathily against your lips as you continue your little performance, swaying and grinding your hips against his. You hum with a smile before you capture his lips again. 

His mouth moves against yours, slow and passionate. He parts his lips slightly to catch his breath. Your tongue sweeps across Logan’s lips making him gasp, tongue wrapping itself against his a moment later, hot and wet and steady as you taste his mouth and kiss him deeply.

Your tongues slowly swirl and dance against each other as your hands wander all over his body. You feel your core clench around nothing and become even more wet the more you grind against him. You whimper at the feel of him bucking his hips against yours, wrapping your arms around his neck and initiating a hungry kiss. The thong you’re wearing surely ruined by now, clinging against your wet folds.

Soon the music would fade into the background as all you can focus on is him. Logan’s leaning his head forward as much as he can, wanting so badly to grab handfuls of your ass while slipping his tongue into your mouth. He moans into your mouth, biting and sucking on your bottom lip. 

You begin to rock your hips against his, dragging your core over his crotch, the friction sending pleasurable sensations coursing through you. However, a wave of self-consciousness washes over you, leaving you unsure about how to proceed. Despite this uncertainty, you continue the movement, instinctively seeking relief for the ache building in your core. 

Logan notices the hesitation in your movements, his perceptive gaze catching the flicker of insecurity in your eyes. He starts to thrust his hips against yours, urging you on. “Good girl, you can do it,” he says in his low, deep voice, the words igniting a whimper from your lips as you pick up the pace, guiding your hips a bit faster in response. 

“Need you, kitten. Please, I need to feel you. Take these panties off,” he pleads, his tone dripping with desire. You shake your head, refusing to comply, which only draws a chuckle from him as he watches you squirm on top of him.

“I don’t take orders from you. I’ll choose when I want to take them off,” you retort, feeling a thrill of defiance as his eyes wander from your face to your soaked panties. The big wet spot at the front betrays just how much you want his cock filling you up, pushing deep inside and making a mess.

“Just you wait until I’m out of these,” Logan replies, maintaining that boyish smile that makes your heart race. You hardly care about his playful threat; instead, you steady yourself on his shoulders and keep grinding your clit against his clothed cock. He’s right about the panties, but you’re not about to let him dictate the moment. Reaching down, you push the fabric aside, letting your pussy lips glide against him, the contact sending shivers through your body. 

“Oh, kitten,” he moans, captivated by the sight of your arousal dripping down onto his underwear. “Look at you.” His low, sultry voice sends a jolt of pleasure through you, the sensation of his throbbing cock against your wetness nearly overwhelming.

“Feels so fucking good,” you cry out, your eyes squeezing shut as waves of pleasure wash over you.

As the pressure builds toward your orgasm, you suddenly stand up, discarding the delicate lingerie that clings to you. As you’re undressing yourself in front of him he can’t help but growl. You glance at him cautiously, as he stares at you hungrily. You’re longing for him to taste you but feeling a hint of embarrassment about taking the initiative. It’s as if he can read your mind when he says, “Go ahead baby girl, let me taste you.” His encouragement sparks a rush of confidence within you, urging you to take control and fully embrace the moment.

His choice of words only heightens your arousal, making it feel as if he’s the one compelling you to act. Logan's cock is oozing with precum, and you can feel the dampness spreading on his underwear as you hook a leg over his shoulder, bringing yourself closer to him. 

You stretch a bit uncomfortably in this position, but any discomfort fades away the moment he leans forward and licks from your entrance to the top of your clit. 

A loud moan escapes you as his warm, wet tongue finally makes contact with your pussy. You sigh into the sensation, your eyes fluttering shut as you tangle your fingers in his hair, anchoring yourself as you urge him deeper. His tongue glides up your folds, skillfully exploring your puffy lips, occasionally pausing to plant soft kisses on your clit. He encircles your clit and sucks, pulling whimpering pleas from your mouth.

Logan groans against you, sending delicious vibrations coursing through your body as you tug on his hair, lost in the pleasure. You find yourself grinding your hips forward, desperately seeking more contact as your arousal drips down into his beard.

“That’s it, good girl, use my fuckin’ mouth,” he moans against you, taking your clit between his lips and sucking gently. He alternates between sucking it in and releasing it, the repetitive motion making your head spin. “Taste so good.”

“Fuck, Lo—” you whine as you grind yourself against his lips.

Each flick and tug sends you spiralling, and you begin to whine, yearning for his large fingers to fill your tight little hole. Frustration simmers beneath the surface as you slip deeper into that precious sub headspace, becoming acutely aware of his restrained hands. Logan picks up on your shift in mood immediately.

“Please, Lo,” you cry out, desperation lacing your voice. You need him so badly it borders on painful.

“Please, what?” he retorts, then dives his tongue into your clenching hole, making you gasp. He groans, fucking your little pussy with his tongue, his nose brushing tantalizingly over your clit. “This is what you wanted, ain’t that right?” 

“F-fuck, ah, I’m gonna c-cum,” you gasp, urgency spilling from your lips instead of a question. The relentless contact of his nose against your sensitive clit pushes you to the edge, and your pussy contracts around his tongue, releasing a wave of pleasure. You scream his name repeatedly, tugging at his hair with a mix of urgency and desperation, your ears ringing as the world around you fades into bliss, unaware of the metal cuffs breaking free.

You can feel his hands on your skin, the heat of your orgasm squirting out of you, painting his mouth beautifully as he continues to feast on your cunt. You breathe heavily as Logan moans loudly at the sweet taste of you, feeling both blissed out and utterly exposed.

You’re still coming down from your high when suddenly, you yelp in surprise as he lifts you with ease, your trembling legs instinctively wrapping around his body. In one fluid motion, Logan throws you onto the bed, and a whine escapes your lips as you feel the familiar neediness surge within you, your pussy so slick and wanting for more.

He pulls his boxers down, letting his erection finally spring free. Logan’s thick and big cock is so hard, dripping with precum and you almost whimper at the sight of it. He then makes his way up to the bed. Situating himself between your legs he smiles deviously. 

Oh—

“Get on your hands and knees for me, kitten. I’ll show you who’s in control.” 

Your cheeks flare up furiously at his request, you feel your body trembling with excitement as you flip on your stomach, getting on your hands and knees, your face down on the mattress as you raise your ass in the air for him. Logan groans when you wiggle for him, spreading your legs a bit more for him exposing more of your pussy.

You bite your bottom lip and can’t help getting even more aroused as you think about finally having him inside.

“Such a pretty pussy, baby. All dripping wet for me,” he whispers to you and you feel his fingers sliding up and down your slit and then opening your folds for him to see.

You wanted to tell him how he’s the only one that can do this to you, how much you love him, but then he grabs both of your ass cheeks in his hands, parting them as he quickly leans down and licks up your exposed pussy, catching you completely by surprise making you almost fall on the bed, your arms almost giving out on you.

You feel your inner walls clenching around nothing as he keeps licking up and down and sucking on your clit. When you whine, his tongue swirls around your entrance.

“F-fuck, s-so sensitive. Da-daddy please, oh—”

But then he pulls his lips away from your lower ones and you whimper desperately at the loss of the feeling of his tongue, only to have him kiss your lower back and up your spine, hands sliding up and down your body.

“Please,” you whine pathetically.

You can't see it, but he's smiling down at you, shaking his head as he revels in his victory over the battle for control. “What happened, baby? Suddenly you need my help?”

You shake your head yes rapidly, not caring how desperate you look. “Please, please, I’ll be good for you, please. I’ll be your good girl.” 

“I thought you wanted to be in control,” he pokes fun at you, his hips not touching as he places soft kisses down your back. You wish he was fucking into you already. You start to whine when you feel his thumb press into your clit. He doesn’t move it at all, just applies slight pressure and lets it rest there. “But you need your daddy, don’t you? You need me so badly. Pathetic little kitty.” 

“I-I do,” you gasp, frustrated by his unmoving thumb. Your body is trembling in anticipation. “Please daddy.” 

A moment later you feel him grind his thick cock against your dripping heat, you’re aching for him to fill you up. A loud moan fills the room along with your whines, with a strong grip on your hips a second later he eases the tip inside, making you gasp as your whole body trembles. 

“Please…” You whine desperately as you feel him halt his movements, a small portion of the tip only inside you. Wiggling your hips you try to push back against him but the strong hold that he has on you makes it hard for you to move.

“Patience baby girl,”

You whimper as he finally slides more and more of his thickness inside of you. You squeeze your eyes tightly as he fills you up. The pressure of his cock deep within your walls overwhelms you while you clutch the sheets below you in tight fists.

“Take it, princess. Take daddy’s cock.”

Then his massive cock is completely splitting you open. Logan thrusts his whole length into you, black dots cover your vision at the feeling of it. Your pussy pulses around him as you struggle to adjust to his size.

“Ah, fuck!” Tears are already dripping down your face onto the mattress. His cock is so big, long and hard and he makes your pussy and tummy feel so full of him. 

You whimper at the new angle, struggling to accommodate his impressive girth. It feels as though your pussy can never fully adjust to his size. As your walls squeeze around him, trying to adapt, Logan uses more force to push deeper, stretching you further. The sensation is intense, almost overwhelming, as it feels like you’re being torn open, split in half by his thickness.

“Oh, sweet girl. I’ve got you,” he soothes and starts moving, fucking you at an impossible pace. The sound of your ass slapping against him fills the room along with both of your frantic moans. His heavy balls are hitting against your clit with every thrust. The feeling is heaven on earth. 

All you can answer with are moans as they slip off your lips. Your mind goes blank as all you can do is focus on the feel of him stretching you, filling you up, so overwhelmed with bliss already. He thrusts deeper inside you, earning whines and moans as you continue to cry out his name. You try to tell Logan, breathlessly, about how good he makes you feel. The sound of your pleasure fuels his desire to fuck you better, urging him to do more. Logan picks up his pace, thrusting into you quicker, harder, hitting the spot that has your body going numb.

You claw at the sheets, burying your face into the mattress to muffle your screams. The air is all stuffy around you as his hips move faster, you whine as you try to push back your hips against his to take more of his thick cock. He moans at the sight, kneading your ass as he tries to bury himself more inside you, the tip hitting your cervix instantly. Your eyes roll back inside your head as you dig your fingers more into the bed, you mewl against the sheets at the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving you.

“F-fuck fuck fuck, this feels so goooohhhood daddy, p-please more…”

“Yeah? You love being filled with all of my cock don’t you?” He grunts as he slaps your ass once, making you cry out in pleasure. Your moans grow louder with each movement, blending with the slick sounds of your pussy meeting his dick over and over again. The sounds mix along with the little noises of pleasure escaping your mouth. 

“Does that feel good, pretty girl?” Logan asks as he leans down his body closer to yours making him hit your cervix repeatedly. You whimper and tremble underneath him as you nod, he moans against your ear as he whispers close to you. “Does it feel good? That I’m fucking you like this? Just the way you like it.”

“Yes, daddy. Fuck, please… Can I please cum?” you ask this time, completely out of breath. 

“No, you little brat,” Logan growls, picking up the pace even more. He grabs you by your hair, jerks your head up and pulls you back towards him. “Patience.” 

The delicious thrusts of his cock don’t falter as he presses your back into his chest. He wraps a strong hand around your throat, and the other arm holds you steady by the waist. 

“I can’t, I can’t,” you whimper repeatedly, your body trembling with need.

“Oh, I know you can,” he says aggressively. “I know you fuckin’ can. And you will.” 

He grinds his hips in circles, and you nearly scream from the overwhelming sensation. You desperately try to hold back the orgasm that's building rapidly, clenching your pussy tightly around his thick cock. He lets out deep moans at the feeling of you, fully aware that he’s close to cumming but wanting to savour your pussy for just a little longer. Logan slows his pace slightly, giving both of you a brief moment to catch your breath before he picks up the rhythm again, quick and rough.

“Look so pretty when you’re stretched around my cock, fuck, bet you look pretty full of my cum too.” Logan cursed when you purposefully tighten your walls around him. “I’m gonna fill this pussy up, kitten, make it all nice and full,” he promises.

The head of his cock rubs against your walls deliciously, snapping you out of your small daze as you nod frantically. “Yes, yesyes please. Fill me up daddy!” You’re whimpering with every thrust of his cock. 

“Tell me who’s in control and I’ll let you cum,” he says slowly into your ear, grip around your throat tightening a bit and making the feeling that more intense.

“You, Lo,” you manage to get out, “Always you.”

“Cum on my cock then,” Logan gives you permission. Another few thrusts is all it takes to send you over the edge, shouting out his name as your ears ring from the pressure. You’re on cloud nine as you let your body relax and feel the brutal pounding of his cock. It drags inside of you so perfectly, hitting every sweet spot you have. Your needy cunt is clenching, throbbing, and milking his cock while you cum all over him.  Logan groans in your ear as your walls spasm around his cock, milking him for his orgasm, desperate for him to fill you up the way he promised. “This pussy was made for me. So fuckin’ tight wrapped around me.” 

Your cum drips down both of your legs, coating his cock and balls, quickly forming a wet spot on the sheets beneath you. As the waves of your orgasm wash over you, Logan talks you through it, whispering dirty nothings in your ear. He gasps as you pulse around him, desperate for him to spill his load inside you, needing to witness him fall apart.

“Ah, shit—” he rasps, thrusting deeper, the bulbous head of his cock hitting your cervix with delicious force. “Are you going to take my cum like a good girl? Let me fill you up until you’re a messy little thing, hm?”

You shiver at his words, your mouth dropping open in awe as you close your eyes, completely lost in the sensation, nodding eagerly. “Please, please.”

Moments later, you feel him unravel against you, and soon his cum starts to shoot deep inside you. 

“Fuck, just like that,” he breathes, his voice thick with pleasure. “Such a good baby girl.”

As his thrusts come to a complete stop, he pulls out of you, and you let your body fall limp against the mattress, feeling utterly drained. Soon Logan wraps an arm around you, effortlessly spinning you around to pull you against his chest. He kisses you softly, and you moan at the taste of yourself still on his lips. As he pulls away, he gazes down at you with soft eyes and a charming smile, the warmth of the moment enveloping you both.

“Sorry for ruining your little plan,” Logan teases gently, a playful glint in his eyes.

“No, that’s okay,” you reply quickly, smiling up at him. “I figured I’d give it a try… but I feel like I’m not that great at it.”

He shakes his head, leaning closer. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, sweet girl. That was so fuckin' hot. In fact, I might want you to try it again.”

“Yeah?” you ask, your eyes brightening at his praise.

He nods, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Maybe next time, I can teach you a thing or two about taking control.”

“Really?” You smile happily, your fingers running through his messy dark hair. 

“Mhm,” he hums, his heart swelling at your excitement.

Biting your lip bashfully, you shrug, looking up at him with a shy smile. “I much prefer having you in control, though.”

“That so?” Logan smirks mischievously, his hands beginning to wander all over your body, reigniting the familiar heat between you.

“Yes, you’re so hot when you’re dominant,” you giggle, leaning up to cover Logan’s face with playful kisses.

“Oh, just when I’m dominant?” he teases, smirking down at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Logan, you know what I mean!” you pout, continuing to pepper kisses all over his face. “You’re always hot!”

Logan chuckles, his deep voice vibrating through you as he gently cups your cheeks with both hands, trying to capture your lips. Once he does, he presses a series of quick, light pecks against your mouth, grinning widely. You giggle against him, the sound filling the space between you both as he keeps chasing your lips, clearly enjoying the lighthearted moment.

“I love you so much, baby. You mean everything to me,” Logan murmurs against your lips, his voice low and full of emotion. You wrap your arms around his back, pulling him closer as his warmth surrounds you. 

With a gentle roll, Logan shifts your bodies, laying you down so your back sinks into the softness of the blankets and pillows. His lips never leave yours as you feel yourself getting lost in the kiss, his hands still cradling your face, his thumb brushing tenderly across the skin under your eyes. 

“You’re everything to me too, Lo,” you whisper, your voice soft and full of affection, a smile tugging at your lips. “I love you.”

You’re both basking in each other’s presence, the quiet intimacy between you settling into something warm and peaceful. The earlier rush of passion has given way to a serene calmness, where even the soft rhythm of your breaths seems to sync together. Logan’s fingers trace idle patterns on your skin, and you feel completely at ease, wrapped in his embrace. 

Then, just as you’re lulled into this tranquil moment, you notice a familiar gleam of mischief in Logan’s eyes. His hands slowly slide down to your hips, fingers pressing lightly against your skin in a way that sends a subtle thrill through you. He caresses you slowly, and the soft strokes make your body stir. 

With a playful grin, he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs, “Another round?” His voice is teasing but full of intent, a promise of what’s to come. You feel the shift in his energy, playful yet laced with the kind of desire that tells you he’s far from finished with you tonight. 

“Logan!” you giggle, giving him a playful push, but he only grins wider. In a swift motion, he pulls you close again, silencing your laughter with a deep, passionate kiss. Your playful giggles soon turn into soft, breathy moans as his hands roam your body, and yours do the same, tracing the familiar lines of his muscles.

The night unfolds in a tangle of kisses and wandering hands, the air between you charged with love and desire. Every touch, every kiss, is a reminder of the bond you share, and the passion between you feels endless. The world fades away, and all that remains is Logan. His touch, his gaze, and the warmth of his presence pull you in, leaving you completely lost in him.

thank you for reading <3 mwah

[gtgbabie0]

Helloo can I request a sweet smut with aegon x reader where they've been apart for some time due to work and when they come together they just want to be intimate with one another

Aegon Targaryen x Wife!Reader

Synopsis: {Aegon’s patience has been wearing thin, he soon reaches a breaking point}

!!-18//MDNI-!! Sorry this took so long I simply cannot catch a break, enjoy my lovelies!! 💕

Since the moment Aegon sat down on his council chair he wanted to leave, to abandon the whole damned meeting and let the fools figure it out for themselves. What was the point of even being there if they overlooked everything he said?— if they did not take him seriously?

It angered him beyond belief, the way they looked at him, the snide remarks that left a stupid pain in his chest no matter how much he tried to ignore it. He sits there bored and pissed off, spinning the marble against the wooden table as their words blend into one another making one big dull noise.

He feels silly, ignored, and he doesn’t enjoy it— so he leaves, slamming his fist onto the table so hard that it causes each of the council members to jump in their seats. The marble rolls off of the table, smashing onto the stone floor as the door shuts behind him with a loud thud.

Aegon bites the inside of his cheek, trying to cool his temper down before entering your bedchambers- the last thing he wanted to do was sour your day with his mood, but it doesn’t work he can’t seem to quell the frustration that coils around his already tense body.

It's your laugh. The sound of your laughter, light and merry calms him. It clashes so greatly with the heavy weight of his heart, with the turbulence in his mind. He stands there for a moment, just outside your shared bedchambers, his anger evaporating as he listens to the heavenly sound.

With a deep breath, he opens the door entering with a relieved sigh. His lilac eyes meet your own with a tender expression that softens his features, watching your dressers ready you for bed, taking your necklace and earrings off with great care.

“You’re dismissed… leave us.” Aegon commands, waving a dismissive hand to the two ladies. They both bow courtly before leaving the room with knowing smirks gracing their lips.

You stand there however with furrowed brows, tilting your head in confusion as he draws closer to you. “I’m still in my day clothes?” You state only receiving a chuckle in return.

“I’m aware.” He smirks, admiring the way the silk of your dress hugs your curves. It drives him to madness and he can’t help but grasp at your hips as he continues to drink in the sight of you. "You don't need your dressers to get you ready for bed... I can take care of that for you."

The realisation hits all so suddenly, taking your breath away and the only response you can give him is a small ‘Oh’ which only makes him chuckle once more against the soft skin of your shoulder.

It had been far too long since he had taken you, all the interrupted moments and the long busy days had caused a searing ache between your thighs that you had tried to sate with your fingers, but nothing could compare to Aegon— he knew you like the back of his hand, he filled the spaces you couldn’t.

“What has spurred this one?” You ask, tone hushed and breathless as he leaves a trail of warm kisses along your neck and the dip of your shoulder. It wasn’t a complaint, far from it, you just wanted to know whether or not he burned for you the way you did for him.

And gods did he. Aegon's fingers work at the laces of your dress with practised ease, his touch feather-light and yet exhilarating. He watches you through the reflection of the mirror, the way the silk of your dress ripples down your body like a waterfall until it pools around your feet leaving you vulnerable to him.

“Do I need an excuse to want to touch you like this?” He whispers, lips grazing against the curve of your jaw. It’s all so dizzying in such an embarrassing way.

You lean back against him, enjoying the way his fingers trace along your waist causing your skin to break out in gooseflesh. He mumbles something about how ‘sensitive you are’ into the crook of your neck and you can feel the smirk that teeters on his lips when a breathless moan escapes you.

“No of course not— I’ve missed you.” You sigh, leaning your head to expose more of your neck to him as your fingers find his hair.

He nuzzles his nose against the underside of your jaw, humming in contentment as your sweet flowery scent surrounds him. “I’ve missed you— so much.” He breathes.

Aegon cups your jaw, tilting your head slightly to the side so he can kiss you. So slow and yet full of passion that has only been building up for the past few weeks. He groans into your eager mouth the taste of your tongue against his own going straight to his cock.

His arms wrap around your midsection, pulling you closer to him. He press his growing erection against the curve of your ass and he can’t help but rut against you slightly. He was more pent up than he realised.

He breaks the messy kiss momentarily, his breath warm against your skin. "You taste... incredible..." he whispers, his voice a low rumble, before kissing you once again.

“The wine perhaps.” The words are hushed through a small giggle. Once again his lips find yours, not breaking as you turn around in his embrace, one of his hands reaching up to caress your warm cheek.

"No," he murmurs, pulling back to admire you with a hungry look and a lazy grin. "It's not the wine." He leans back in. "It's... you," the kiss is much greedier, and his hands trace a path down your spine, resting against the small of your back, drawing you closer to his body.

You gasp, hands flying to grab his forearms as he suddenly begins to guide you backwards over to your shared bed. The backs of your knees hit the mattress as you collide with the softness of the bedsheets, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Where did your manners go?” You tease him lightly, propping yourself up on your elbows, watching him with desire in your eyes as he lifts his tunic over his head, discarding it on the floor somewhere.

He smirks, leaning over you, trailing his lips along your collarbones— a clash of teeth and tongue. His hips lay flush over your own as he slowly grinds himself down onto you, relishing in the sweet sounds that you make.

"My manners?" he murmurs against your chest, his eyes meeting your own with a glint of playfulness flashes through them. "They flew out the window the moment I took that dress off of you."

His gaze roams over your body, drinking in the sight of you laid out beneath him bare— hips writhing desperately. You gasp against the pillows as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the hardened peak whilst his other hand cups your unattended breast, thumbing over the nub.

“Aegon— please.” The words are a struggle to get out as he’s rendered you completely breathless, but the way your hips lift up to try and press against his, desperate for attention, tells him everything he needs to know.

He hums in understanding, leaving a trail of kisses along your breasts. “I’ll get there, my love… I’ll get there.” He coos softly, his hand falling to your restless hips as his thumb rubs over the curve and dips whilst his mouth ravishes your chest in wet kisses and small licks.

Aegon slips his hand in between your thighs, watching your face intently as his fingers part your slick folds, running along the sensitive flesh before catching your clit, rubbing slow circles over the bud. He’s completely taken with the way you arch up into his touch, how your lips part, the sounds you make. All of it— all of you—causes his cock to throb.

You mewl, hips bucking against his hand as he pushes two fingers inside you, curling them. “Mhm… you’re so beautiful with my fingers buried in your cunt,” He smirks, enjoying the fact he isn’t the only one who has been pent up. “So wet…” the words are muffled against your lips, your slickness coating his digits.

You brush your fingers through his hair, pulling him into a kiss as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. Your free hand works deftly to unlace his breeches, the fabric falls mid-thigh letting his cock spring free, begging for attention.

Aegon hisses sharply into your ear, burying his face against your shoulder as your hand wraps around his length. “I want your cock inside me, please…” you beg him, voice strained with pleasure. The deep desire to feel him as close to you as humanly possible completely drowns out everything else in your mind, your thoughts now are only of him.

He nods his head in compliance, not having the strength the refrain himself any longer than he already has. Sliding his fingers out of your cunt, he coats your slickness around the tip of his thick shaft, the feeling sends a tingle down his spine, his skin hot to the touch.

Aegon swats your hand away gently as he guides the head of his cock between your folds, nudging the tip against your clit over and over again basking in the way his name sounds coming from you all whiny, laced with such wanton passion.

He groans as he lines himself up to your entrance before sinking into you slowly, whispering soft lovely words of encouragement against your jaw. The way you take him with ease, how your slick walls clamp around him it’s all so maddening— so mind-numbing and all he can do is huff and moan against your skin.

The stretch of him is so achingly good, the drag of his cock along your walls as he thrusts his hips against your own sends a searing heat through your abdomen. Aegon mutters on about how ‘good you feel’ and how ‘well you take him’ like some sort of crazed man, completely drunk off of your body.

His movements soon become sloppy, trying so hard to keep himself from spilling too early but the sounds of wet flesh and your moans coupled with the way your cunt squeezes around him makes it nearly impossible as he teeters closer to the edge.

“Fuck— I can’t— it’s been too long I— I won’t last.” He whimpers, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck, breathing you in. His hands pin your hips down to the bedsheets as he continues to fuck himself into you, moaning hotly against your flushed skin as you wrap your thighs around his waist to hold him closer.

“I- I’m close… don’t worry.” You reassure him, your hand grasping at his white hair. The tightness deep inside him eventually snaps, spilling his warm seed inside you with a broken cry of pleasure, panting and whining into the crook of your neck as apologies fly from his lips. You grab his face, kissing him greedily as you come around cock, milking him practically dry.

The pair of you go boneless against the comfort of the pillows, catching your breaths with dazed expressions. Aegon’s fingers trace a soothing line along your spine as you instinctively seek out the warmth of his arms.

“Sorry-” He rasps with a lazy grin, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then another to your cheek. "It's been too long"

“Mm… don't apologise, we'll never go that long apart again.” You reply earning a weak nod and a hum of agreement from him. You rest your cheek against his chest, allowing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calm your own erratic one.

[merlevum]

Just finished this piece of Essek Thelyss, surrounded by soft florals and holding a delicate white lace parasol. Tried to capture that ethereal, serene vibe. 🌸✨

Each flower has a specific meaning I was thinking for Essek.

Azalea - regal

Lilac - first love

Purple hyacinth - sorrow and desire to be forgiven

Purple Camilla - longing for you

[fellominaarcher]

cam girl karina or winter x friend fem reader??

→ Fic type: oneshot & smut (mdni)

→ Author's note: hey anon I'm sooo sorry this came in late

Y/N hadn’t planned on doing this.

It started as a bored scroll through a high-end adult streaming site—curiosity, maybe. Horniness, sure. But nothing serious. Until she saw her.

The thumbnail alone had her pausing: silky black hair falling over bare shoulders, catlike eyes under soft, dim lighting, lips parted mid-laugh. Her handle was simple: Karina's Red Room, followed by a green "Streaming Now" bubble.

She clicked.

The room came to life in a warm, red haze. Candles flickered along the edge of the screen, and in the center, Karina sat on her bed like sin itself. She wore black lace that barely counted as lingerie, the thin straps slipping from her shoulders, thighs crossed, glistening skin catching the glow like she was dipped in honey.

“Hmm… two new subscribers,” she purred, eyes flicking to the screen, tongue dragging across her bottom lip. “You must be so curious.” Her voice was low. It was teasing and on the edge of mocking.

Y/N swallowed thickly, pulse picking up. She didn’t type anything. Just watched.

Karina leaned forward, cleavage deepening, gaze sultry and confident. “You want me to play with myself, don’t you?” Her voice was velvet, a slow burn crawling under Y/N’s skin. “You're not even trying to hide it.”

She picked up a sleek, lilac toy from her nightstand, tapping it against her lips thoughtfully. “But you don’t get this right away.” A smile curled on her face as she reached between her legs, dragging fingers along the damp lace. “I like to be worshipped first.”

Y/N’s hand drifted beneath her own waistband, hesitant at first but then Karina moaned. Quiet, breathy, real. She tilted her head back, mouth open, chest rising in a shuddering breath. It didn’t feel like a performance anymore. It felt like a secret she was letting the audience witness. Like she knew she was being watched, and it turned her on more.

The toy buzzed to life. Karina spread her legs wide, slow and deliberate, eyes on the camera like she was staring right at Y/N. “You better be touching yourself already. I’d be disappointed if you weren’t.” Karina playfully warned, glancing at the camera.

Y/N's breath hitched, back arching off the bed as her fingers moved in time with the rhythm Karina set on screen. The camgirl’s hips rolled against the toy, eyes fluttering shut, lips slick and swollen from biting down on moans she couldn’t quite contain.

“Fuck, just like that,” Karina breathed, voice breaking. “You like watching me fall apart, don’t you?”

And God, Y/N did. She was a mess now—panting, writhing, straining to stay quiet. But Karina wasn’t quiet. She was everything. Beautiful, filthy, untouchable. And somehow still so, so close.

Karina let out a breathy laugh as she adjusted the camera angle, making sure every inch of her glistening skin was visible. Her legs spread wider now, that sheer black lace pushed to the side, revealing wet heat that sparkled under the lights.

She wasn’t shy, never shy. Her fingers slid through her folds, slow and indulgent, like she was savoring her own touch. "Look at this pussy," she murmured, voice thick with lust. "Dripping and needy. And you’re just sitting there, watching. Pathetic, aren’t you?"

The toy buzzed louder. She pressed it against her clit and gasped, it was a raw, unfiltered sound that hit Y/N straight in the gut.

Y/N’s fingers moved faster between her legs, helpless. She couldn't stop even if she wanted to. Her thighs trembled as she watched Karina grind down on the toy, hips circling with expert rhythm, moaning softly, sensually, like she was fucking the camera itself.

Karina tilted her head, long hair spilling over one shoulder. "Mmm, I love being watched. Knowing you're all fucking yourselves to me right now… just a bunch of desperate viewers with your hands down your pants." She giggled breathlessly, then moaned again, louder this time, her back arching as her thighs began to quiver.

She slid two fingers inside herself, eyes fluttering shut as her toy stayed locked on her clit. Her body rocked into the rhythm, wet noises obscene through the mic. “I’m so close,” she whimpered, brows furrowed. “You want to see me cum? Want to see this perfect little cunt soak the sheets just for you?”

Y/N bit her lip hard, stifling a cry as her orgasm hit suddenly, violently, like a dam breaking. She arched off the bed, body trembling, heart pounding, and Karina, fuck, Karina was still going. She didn't slow down, she sped up. Riding her own pleasure like she was in charge of everyone's release.

And then it happened.

Karina gasped, eyes wide, head falling back. “F-fuck, I'm cumming...”

Her body jerked, legs shaking as she came hard, the toy still buzzing between her thighs. A high, breathy moan escaped her lips, one hand clutching the sheets as she collapsed against the pillows, panting.

For a moment, the only sound was her soft, uneven breathing.

Then she looked straight into the camera with that wicked, fucked-out smile. “You better’ve cum too,” she whispered. “Or I’ll be very disappointed.”

Y/N lay there, still trembling, hand slick, chest heaving. She hadn't even realized her free hand was clutched over her mouth, trying to hold back her sounds.

This was a one-time thing.

She’d just logged on because she was bored.

Right?

The tip alert dinged again on screen.

Karina smirked. “Good girl.” She cooed.

main m.list | æspa m.list

[aimfor-theheart]

thinking about mafia!reader going lingerie shopping and vi having to be there; reader obviously is gonna be an insufferable tease, parading around in one of those massive private changing rooms (she's getting free champagne too, bc ofc she is) posing in front of the full length mirrors like "what do you think, vi? do you like this color on me?"

i’m grabbing you by the shoulders. you can’t just put this in my head. i'm so cooked.

brush the sky no. 3: fantasy

minors and ageless blogs dni, 18+

vi x reader || part two || masterlist

tags: mafia au, bodyguard!vi, femme!reader, longing, a little angst.

wc: 2.7k what the hell

cw: alcohol mention/very suggestive. nsfw-ish. not beta read or edited at all lol.

Vi is not known for her patience.

In a spacious, private changing room of a boutique lingerie shop, she scrubs a hand over her face and tries to prepare herself for the next time you come out from behind the plush, velvet curtains.

Her glass of champagne sits untouched besides yours, which is nearly halfway empty.

This is only the second set you’re trying on but—to Vi, it might as well be the twentieth. The first set had already sent her spiraling, when you had come out in dainty lilac, some little baby-doll dress that you flounced around in. It had inspired images and fantasies of you the morning after, hair tousled and still sleep warm, the sun streaming in through your bedroom window. Some picture of domesticity that Vi cannot be thinking of you in.

The curtain swings back.

You’re in crushed blue, dark and rich and silky. A slinky little slip dress which allows for a peak of the lace blue panties underneath. Vi's eyes go towards the ceiling and she swears she's gonna keep 'em glued there as you come out to strut around and look at yourself in the large, three panel mirror.

And you do that for a moment, Vi can see it in the blurry peripheral of her vision. You twist and turn, examining yourself, and the lingerie and how it moves.

Then, "Vi?"

Your voice is so sweet and inquiring that she grinds her teeth together so hard she fears she'll chip one.

"Yeah, princess?" She doesn't take her eyes off the ceiling.

"How do you like this one?" You press innocently, like the absolute demon you are.

"Not about how I like it," Vi tries to say evenly, "more about how you like it."

"But I want a second opinion." And she can almost hear the pout in your voice and she really can't look or she'll—

"Are you tryin' to kill me, sweetheart?" Vi finally asks.

And she jolts a little when she suddenly feels the careful press of your fingertips to her chin, her jaw. She hadn't even heard you move and—suddenly you're there—in front of her, gently guiding her face down to your gaze.

She swallows hard as she takes you in, the silk fabric shimmering like a night sky, like the ripple of dark waters. Some siren song, the way it dips to reveal the swell of your—

"Can't you help a girl out?" You ask sweetly, mischief dancing in your eyes, her chin still delicately trapped between your fingers. "I'm having a hard time deciding."

Vi has to drag her eyes back up to your face. And then she tips back, slouching into the plush couch, releasing herself from the hold you have on her. She groans, head tipping back as she desperately searches for some other excuse but—

At the end of the day, she can't deny you.

"Alright," she says and feels like she's signing her soul away, "let's see."

And then she picks herself back up, sits up, and takes a full look at you.

She inhales sharp and small.

You're a vision in midnight blue.

Of course it looks good on you, and she's already thinking about how those little straps look mighty thin and weak—

"What do you think?" You ask, smoothing out the fabric with a quick pass over your torso and hips that Vi watches carefully.

"I mean, you'd look good in a paper bag, princess—"

"But what's it saying, you know? Pretend you're my partner." You say and Vi feels her heart kick up into some unsteady, miserable rhythm. The tips of her ears burn, too. "And you come home from a long day—" Your voice drifts softer and Vi, without thinking, leans towards you like she's hypnotized, caught under your spell, "and walk into the bedroom, looking for me, and I'm in this."

You take a step back and showoff the set.

And Vi, heaven help her, pictures it all. Pictures you on the bed in this little number, waiting for her. Pictures the cat's curl of your lips, the mischief that she'll taste when she kisses you. Mostly, she pictures you as her girlfriend, pictures you waiting for her, singing her name when she comes home to your arms and—

"I mean, if I'm your partner, no lingerie is staying on you for long." She says before she can stop herself.

You laugh, and scold, "Vi!"

And she's smiling because she made you laugh, but she knows what you mean—she knows what you're asking for.

"But—it's classy. You know? It's definitely the lingerie of a mobster's wife. Powerful. A little cold, maybe."

You hum in thought, turning towards the mirror again to examine yourself. You announce, "I agree." And in a flurry of silk, you're back behind the curtain, and you're stripping into the next set.

Vi lets out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

But when you emerge again, she sucks it right back in—sharp, quick.

Damn.

You're in lacy black. Far less fabric this time around. Swirling pattern, dark panties, and a lacy bralette that clings to you in all the right ways. You look—

Vi whistles.

Dangerous. Sinful. You look—

"Oh, you like this one?" You ask over your shoulder as you turn towards the mirrors to examine yourself.

"This one's—" Vi searches for the right words and simply comes up empty handed, "yeah, I like this one."

You laugh, posing and primping in the mirror, straightening out the fabric resting along your breasts or seeing how it looks to jut your hip out. Vi watches your body, the way it moves beneath the lace, and has to keep her thoughts from spinning away from her.

You turn to face her, to show the set off a bit more. "So this one is better than the previous. What's this one saying?"

Vi gathers her patience. Swallows around it.

"That you want your makeup ruined." Vi says and she's not just trying to be funny, but you laugh anyways. And it's scandalized, a little surprised, but bursts from you in a sweet sound. Vi glows in it, leans into it. "Like you're looking for trouble."

You bite your lip, smile tucked beneath teeth, "I guess I am." You agree, but then you press, "does it look—?"

Vi waits for you to find the word.

"Too slutty?" You ask. "Is that a bad thing?" You then follow up with. And you're seeking, earnest, as you look at her. Something about this flicker of insecurity—or, genuinely seeking her advice, sets Vi off in a new way. God, you're cute.

Vi's fingers curl into a fist.

"I mean, not when it's a surprise for your partner. Nothing's too slutty for that." Vi drawls, "I wouldn't want you wearing this around anyone else—" Her eyes, burning blue like the too-hot part of a flame, sweep up your body to find your eyes, "if I was your partner."

And for once, she sees you audibly fluster. She watches as your lashes flutter a little, at the way you blink at her. Your mouth pops open a little. You clear your throat.

"Right—" You get out, "who else would I wear it in front of?"

"Your bodygaurd, apparently."

You laugh, recovering again.

"Ah—" You wave her off, "that's just because it's you. If I had a different one, they'd be waiting outside."

"You like tormenting me." Vi finally complains, "who knew you were such a little sadist?"

Your smile turns wicked, a little sharp, "Oh yeah, poor you, getting to oggle me in lingerie."

"You know what you're doing, princess." Vi retorts, "Letting me look but not touch."

You linger nearer to her, stepping carefully to stand between her spread legs. Vi holds perfectly still, feels her traitorous heart ratchet up inside her chest.

"You could touch if you wanted, you know?" You say softly, looking down at her. You even reach out, let your fingers skim along her jaw. "You're the only one imposing this rule—who knew you were such a masochist?"

Vi looks up at you, leans into the touch at her jaw, "Yeah, I'm a real glutton for pain, huh?"

Your knee comes up on the outside of her thigh, almost straddling her waist. "It could be you that I'm waiting for—in bed, in this."

Vi curses.

Your lips lift into a smile.

Vi sounds genuinely mournful, "You know I can't be, sweetheart."

You sigh, fingers skimming around the slope of her neck, "It could be our secret."

Vi considers it for a moment; sneaking around with you, slipping into your bed in the middle of the night. She thinks about what it might be like to be yours, even in secret. But she knows—she knows it's too good to be true. In this line of work, secrets are dangerous. Secrets put those you love in danger.

Vi reaches up, hand coming up to your waist for a moment. She let's her thumb trace the lace at your hip, even slips beneath for a moment to feel your skin, unobstructed. She hears your inhale of breath, feels the way your eyes burn through her.

"You got more to show me?" Vi asks.

"Yeah," You breathe, "One more."

She taps your thigh a little, urging you up, urging you away, "Go on then," She says gently, "Show me, sweetheart."

You look at her a moment, fully, with all of your desire and your—feelings for her. It's more than lust, she realizes with a start, the look in your eyes. It's sincere—it's something tender and desperate and—

Reluctantly, you part from her, returning behind the curtain and Vi wonders if you can see the same feeling mirrored back in her own eyes. She wonders if she looks at you that way, too.

When you step out again, Vi doesn't have anything smart to say.

This set is burgundy. It's sheer, with these beautiful, flower details. And the straps are all silk ribbon. Two small bows at your hips, one over the nape of your neck. It's dainty but it's—blush dark and sultry. It's classy, but warm. It's the perfect amount of risque. Vi can only think about how delicately she'd unlace those bows, unwrap you slowly—

(She wants to ruin your makeup in it, yeah, but she also wants to make love to you in this set—wants it slow and dirty and passionate—)

You fix the ribbons in the mirror, you adjust your hair and you turn to her. Stand there, in all your beauty.

"How's this one?" You ask.

"Perfect." Vi says, a little more hushed than she intends. "I mean they all are but—" She let's out a breath, shaking her head, "This one's a knockout, princess."

"Yeah?" You ask, lighting up, and Vi wants to kiss you so bad she almost aches. She wants to take you home.

"Yeah." She agrees, knowing she's not the one who'll be seeing you in this.

(And you're smiling, but thinking, you'll buy it—and no one'll see you in it. Who else are you going to wear it for, except her? Who else, except Vi?

After this, it'll sit in your closet, untouched, until she wants you.)

"Now go change, before I do something I shouldn't." Vi says, dragging a hand through her hair, scrubbing it down her face. "You've tormented me enough for one day, sweetheart."

"Maybe I should tempt you a little further, then." You say, "kept hoping you would suddenly join me behind the curtain, step into there while I was changing and—"

Vi says your name, short and sharp and desperate to get you to stop because she can't take the thought of it. Her face flushes with warmth.

"Go put your clothes back on." Vi commands, trying to scrub the thought from her head desperately.

"Sure you don't wanna join me?"

"No—!" Vi says, rubbing at her eyes, "I mean—fuck. Of course I want to. I can't. Go change!"

Your laugh retreats, back behind the curtain, and Vi blows out a breath of air. A huff of a laugh. When you emerge, you're dressed again, back in your blouse and your skirt and your little heels and frilly socks. You head to the front of the store to check out. The price is too high and at least, that might stop Vi from ripping them, if she knew—

While you're walking home, you tuck into her side. Vi can't deny you, so she let's herself have this; her arm falls around your shoulders. It feels natural, easy, to have you like this.

"You know, I got both sets." You say, impish smile tugging at your lips, "the black and the burgundy one."

Vi's brows raise.

"So, if you ever wanna see them again..." You trail off, "You can pick."

"God, you're such a brat."

You laugh, bright and wonderful and filling the air—Vi aches, happy and longing and so full of you she could burst.

You duck out from her arm, wander further ahead. The city gleams from fresh rain, and you seem to as well. The sun has just returned and fuck, it must favor you—with the way you look, golden and lovely.

You turn over your shoulder to look at her, smile sharp and brilliant, "I'll get you yet, Vi."

"Gotta work a little harder, sweetheart. I'm stubborn." Vi says, but even then, she doesn't mean it.

Even when she says it, she's thinking;

Oh, don't I know it, princess.

(And—you already have me.

I'm already yours.)

[valyrianvibranium]

NOCTURNAL WORSHIP.

Daemon Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MDNI; dub/non-con, somnophilia, canon typical incest/targcest (uncle/niece), p in v, fingering, possessive and dark (or rather canon) Daemon

WORDS: 1.2 K

NOTES: Something older I had posted with another blog.

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

A deep slumber has overtaken you after a day full of lessons in the tongue of your ancestors, and an hours long flight on the back of your precious mount. Deep enough that not even the creaking door leading to one of the secret passageways of Maegor‘s Holdfast is able to get you to stir awake. 

Not quite so stealthy as one might know him, the man they dub the Rogue Prince steps into your chambers, his heart beating fast with the blood pumping straight down to his cock upon spotting you laying on your side, sound asleep despite his intrusion. 

It’s almost ridiculous how hard his cock gets the closer he stalks towards your canopy bed, straining uncomfortably against the laces in the front of his breeches. “Ñuha dōna lēkianna,“ he drawls with a strain to his voice, the predatory gaze of his lilac eyes taking in your sleeping frame. My sweet niece. 

A devilish smirk that’s usually only reserved to the people that dare to challenge him is draped across his lips, growing as he slowly peels the Quartheen silk sheets off your body. Only a fool would miss the fact that you’re not wearing any undergarments beneath the rather flimsy, creamish nightgown you wear, clearly indicating that you have listened to your uncle prior to your departure to your quarters. 

‘Expect me at the Hour of the Owl, sweet girl,’ he had said to you as your lesson ended. ‘And I shall teach you what is expected of you on your wedding night.’ And the sheepish nod and the blush on your cheeks let him know you truly endorsed it. 

Daemon sits down on the bed next to you and brushes his fingers over your skin, starting at your knee to push the nightgown up and reveal your bare cunt, glistening with your arousal for the long-awaited. His deft fingers drag through your folds, circling your sensitive pearl.

A quiet sound slips past your slightly parted lips, resembling something between a moan and a whimper, and in your sleepy state he finds you snuggling against him to inhale his comforting scent, your hand resting on his stomach and your face buried in his side.

His fingers toy with your pearl briefly before he gently nudges you over to lie on your back, parting your legs to grant him better access to what lies between them. Ghosting the tips of his fingers along your navel, he trails them down again to ease them inside your cunt, pushing in and out to prepare your maiden core for him.  

The thread of restraint he’s held before grows thinner and thinner with your walls starting to clench steadily around his digits, practically sucking them in and begging for more. And when he feels your small hand fisting his tunic, pulling him closer with your hips rutting meekly against his hand? That’s the moment it snaps.

Withdrawing his fingers from your cunt, he brings them up to his lips, sucking them clean of your essence. Any rational thought is quit with the taste of your arousal spreading over his tongue, making him long for more. 

He climbs between your legs, sitting back on his haunches as he undoes his breeches and frees his cock from its confines. There’s not a second wasted by him,  burying himself inside of you with such urgency in one, swift thrust. 

All efforts not to wake you up are fruitless as he increases the pace of his thrusts, snapping his hips in and out of you over and over again, not able to hold back any longer. 

The hazy glimmer in your eyes as you blink up at him indicates that you have a hard time processing what is happening, although your body perfectly knows with quiet moans and whimpers toppling past your parted lips. 

“K… Kepus?” you mumble, having trouble speaking with the burning of your cunt struggling to accommodate his size clouding your thoughts. You blink once, twice, to allow your eyes to adjust to the dim light the moon casts through your chambers windows.  

Daemon doesn’t stop his ministrations, if anything, your dazed reaction only manages to spur him on, feeding the fire that courses through his veins. He dips down, pressing his chest flush to yours and putting his weight onto you, caging you in between his arms with no way to escape. 

Your uncle rests his forehead against yours, stopping his movements briefly. “I told you I would come, didn't I?” 

Biting your bottom lip, you momentarily close your eyes at the proximity. Opening them again, you nod your head and stare up at him with a wide, innocent gaze. “Y… Yes.”

“And you want to learn from me, do you not?” It isn’t a question, more a coercion for you to give him what he wants. “About the… wifely duties you must perform for your future husband.” 

You nod again, speaking in feigned confidence, “yes.”

His words are very much that of truth. More than once have you thought about him in ways that are not proper for the youngest daughter of the King, especially after your older sister has told you about the little foray she and your uncle went on that ended in one of the brothels of the city.

Daemon starts to grind his hips against yours, causing the pressure inside of you to become more and more notable — until your peak catches you in an ambush. 

Your body acts on its own as you arch your back against his sturdy frame, parting your legs just a bit more to willingly rut your hips in rhythm with his, chasing the pleasure. 

Not one coherent thought runs through your head as your body works itself through the several emotions and trembles that soar through you, suddenly not so tired anymore. 

You‘re not so sure what to expect as he proclaims his desire to spill inside of you, yet you eagerly accept, damned be the repercussions, and bite through the overstimulation to chase the addictive feeling of his throbbing cock. 

Tipping his head back, your uncle releases a groan so raspy the bump in his throat twitches, the sight causing a renewed wave of your arousal to drip down his shaft, forming a creamy ring around the base. 

Only once the thrusting of his hips ceases, you‘re able to feel the flimsy pulsating of his cock, spending itself inside of you. 

“That’s it–” His words catch in his throat as his head topples forwards. 

Meeting your gaze, he gets so lost in the blissed out expression on your face that he knows there is no going back now — not when he just got a taste of you, his darling niece. 

He presses a kiss to your temple as he pulls out, the uncomfortable feeling of loss causing you both to grimace. Climbing off the bed to readjust his trousers, he can‘t seem to take his eyes off of you. 

“I expect you, tomorrow night, to come to my chambers,” he states bluntly and nonchalantly, walking towards the door he came through before. “Your husband will not be gentle on the first night of your marriage, lēkianna, and I think it is only fair that I teach you a few more things. So when the time comes, you‘re well prepared.”

With these words, he closes the secret door behind him, leaving you all by yourself. Where you have been in a very deep slumber before, you struggle to fall back asleep again, mind plagued by what tomorrow will bring for you. 

Daemon Taglist: @hypocritic-trash-baby @schniiipsel @avalyaaa @baizzhu @yn-jackson

[changbinniescurlyhair]

Stray Kids when their s/o surprises them with lingerie

Pairing: SKZ x gf!reader

Warnings: Smut (Minors DNI), Changbin's has semi-public sex (in a gym, but no one's there), Dom!Chan, Minho, Han, and Jeongin.

A/N: Requested by @lezleeferguson-120. Thank you for requesting this :)

Requests Masterlist

Chan <3

He’d been buried in the studio for hours — drained, tense, overworked. So you showed up in a long coat… and under it? Crimson lace that barely counted as clothing.

The second he opened the door, his jaw locked.

“You wore this here?” His voice dropped, gaze devouring you.

You let the coat fall.

“I thought you could use a distraction.”

He was on you in seconds — kissing you rough, shoving the coat aside, spinning you around and bending you over the desk.

“You want attention that bad, baby?”

He dragged your panties aside and thrust in without warning — deep, hard, breath hot against your ear.

But every time you got close? He pulled back.

“You’re not coming yet. Not until I say.”

He held you in place, fucking you slow and deep until you were gasping, clenching, begging.

“Feel that?” he growled, one hand between your legs. “That ache? That’s what you get for teasing me.”

You moaned, desperate for release, but he just smirked and slammed into you harder.

Only after your legs were trembling and you were falling apart from the tension did he finally whisper:

“Now.”

You came so hard it felt like breaking.

And he wasn’t done.

“You pull that shit again?” he growled, breathless. “I’ll edge you all fucking night.”

Minho <3

You stretched across the bed in sheer black lace, legs crossed, hair done just the way he liked it. The set was minimal — thin straps and slinky garters that hugged your hips like a secret.

The door creaked open. Minho stepped in, saw you... and smirked.

That cocky, devastating smirk.

“Oh?” he said, sauntering over, shrug in his tone. “What’s all this?”

You shifted your thighs open just a little wider. “Do you like it?”

He leaned over you, hand planting beside your head. “Do you like playing with fire?”

And just like that, your fate was sealed.

He kissed you slow, teasing — lips barely brushing yours. His hands? All over. Grazing your chest, your hips… but never where you needed him.

You whimpered. He grinned.

“You wore this thinking I’d lose control?” he murmured. “Nah. You’re gonna beg first.”

The next hour was torture. He made you strip one piece at a time. Touched everywhere but where you throbbed for him. Whispered filthy things while keeping a feather-light grip on your jaw.

When he finally snapped?

You were on all fours, head down, panties shoved to the side as he took you from behind — slow at first, then mercilessly hard.

“Thought you could tease me, kitten?” he growled, hand fisting your hair. “Now look at you. Shaking for it. Crying for more.”

And he gave you more.

Until your moans turned into sobs and your orgasm shattered your brain.

Changbin <3

You met him at the empty gym after his workout, wearing a pastel lilac set under his oversized hoodie.

The moment he spotted the flash of lace when you stretched? His jaw dropped.

“Baby…” he said, already walking toward you. “What the hell are you wearing?”

You lifted the hoodie and let it fall.

His brain short-circuited.

He pulled you against him, kissed you like he’d been starving, then lifted you onto the bench press like you weighed nothing.

“You planned this?” he asked, kneeling between your legs. “You knew what this would do to me.”

He spread you open, groaning at the wet spot on your panties.

Then he buried his face between your thighs.

He worshipped like it was religion — licking, sucking, whispering “so good,” “so wet for me,” “taste so fuckin’ sweet.” He moaned while eating you out, like you were getting him off.

And when he finally stood up, his eyes dark and chest heaving?

He bent you over the bench, pulled the lingerie aside, and slid in with a deep, trembling growl.

“Fuck… this pussy was made for me.”

His hands gripped your waist tight. His thrusts were rough and full of want.

“You wore this just to get fucked in public, huh? My dirty little girl.”

You came twice before he did — and he praised every second of it.

Hyunjin <3

When you walked into the bedroom in soft cream silk, Hyunjin stopped mid-sentence.

His lips parted.

His breath caught.

“…You look like an angel.”

You reached for him, took his hand, and placed it against your bare thigh. He swallowed hard.

“I wanted to surprise you,” you said softly.

His eyes turned molten.

He walked you to the bed, sat you down, and knelt between your knees.

“Then let me take my time.”

He removed every piece of lingerie with slow, reverent fingers — kissing every new inch of exposed skin like it was sacred.

When he ate you out, it was graceful filth. Tongue curling inside you, lips teasing your clit. He moaned softly, murmuring how perfect you tasted, how beautiful you sounded when you came.

Then he slid inside you so slowly you cried out from the ache.

He moved like poetry — hips rolling, lips on your shoulder, one hand cradling your face while he whispered:

“You’re mine. All mine. I’m gonna make love to you until you can’t stand.”

And he did.

He made love like it was war — slow, overwhelming, and utterly all-consuming.

Jisung <3

You walked into the bedroom in violet lace and no bra, straddled his lap while he was gaming, and whispered:

“Pause the game.”

He turned — saw the sheer set clinging to your curves — and dropped the controller.

“You little shit,” he laughed. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

Before you could respond, he had you pinned beneath him.

He kissed you like a man possessed, hands everywhere, cock already hard through his sweats.

“You’re such a brat,” he growled, grinding against your heat. “I’m gonna fuck the attitude out of you.”

He ate you out messily, fingers curling just right, tongue slurping loud enough to echo in the room.

“You like that? Yeah, you do. Look how soaked you are.”

Then he flipped you over and fucked you raw.

Fast. Deep. Loud.

“You like being used, huh? My perfect little toy.”

He choked you lightly, told you to beg for his cum, and pulled your hair like it was a handle.

You didn’t stand a chance.

Felix <3

He walked into the room, saw you in baby-pink lace and thigh-high stockings, and just… froze.

“Holy fuck…”

His voice dropped.

He crossed the room slowly, hands ghosting over your hips, your waist, your jaw.

“You wore this for me?”

You nodded. Innocent.

“You want me to worship you?”

His hands trembled as he pulled you into a kiss — slow and deep. Then he laid you on the bed, kissed down your body, whispered praises with every press of his lips.

“You’re so beautiful. Look at you. Look how soft you are.”

He fingered you while sucking marks into your thighs, watched your mouth fall open as you came on his hand.

“God, I love this body.”

When he finally took you, it was deep. Precise.

He whispered in your ear the entire time.

“How does that feel, baby? You want it harder? You want me to fill you up?”

When you came again — shaking, crying his name — he kissed your tears and held you close.

“I’ve got you, angel.”

Seungmin <3

You were on the couch in navy blue lace and a loose cardigan when Seungmin walked in.

He blinked. Slowly.

“…You’re kidding.”

You uncrossed your legs with a smile. “Welcome home.”

He said nothing.

Just set his bag down, walked over, and pulled you into his lap.

“Desperate for attention, huh?”

He didn’t let you move. Made you grind against him slowly through layers of clothes while he whispered in your ear:

“You wore this thinking I’d be nice? No, baby. You’re going to earn it.”

His hands gripped your ass tight. He pinched your nipples through the lace. But he didn’t let you touch him back.

“Don’t move unless I tell you.”

By the time he finally pulled you into the bedroom and bent you over the edge of the bed, you were wrecked.

And that’s when he really got mean.

He fucked you hard, pulled your hair, whispered the filthiest things you’d ever heard.

“Look at you. So cockdrunk already. One little outfit and you’re mine.”

You came on command.

Collapsed after.

He smirked.

“You gonna wear something like that again tomorrow?”

Jeongin <3

He came home to find you in strappy white lingerie and thigh-high socks, sitting on the kitchen counter.

Jeongin dropped his keys.

“…What… What is this!?”

You grinned. “A surprise.”

His face flushed deep red.

He stepped forward. Put his hands on your thighs. Then his lips were on yours — hungry, messy, needy.

“You can’t just do this to me,” he said, breath shaky. “You know what this does.”

He was still blushing when he pushed you back on the counter, shoved your panties aside, and slid two fingers into you while watching your face.

“You like teasing me? Want me to lose it?”

Then he did.

He picked you up, carried you to the bedroom, and fucked you like a man possessed — hard and fast, panting against your skin.

“You wore this for me, right? Just me?”

You couldn’t even speak. Just nodded, cried out, clawed at his back.

He came inside you and didn’t pull out.

Instead, he started again.

“Not done yet. You wanted this, remember?”

You were ruined.

And he kissed your forehead with a proud little smirk.

Tags: @jehhskz @true-queen-of-mischief

Taglist is open.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ © @changbinniescurlyhair

[the-offside-rule]

Carlos Sainz Jr (Scuderia Ferrari) - Un Poco Secreto

Requested: yes

Prompts: 39) "Like what you see?"

40) "Ah, ah, ah, no touching."

41) "Do that thing I like."

Warnings: smut, age gap, overstimulation, fighting over being a dom, alonso!daughter x Carlos Sainz

Y/n gasped as she felt her back hit the door, before Carlos pounced and their lips connected once again. Carlos grunted in disapproval as he reached for the door handle of his Hotel room, trying his best not to break the kiss he had with Y/n. He could feel her smile against his lips. "Having trouble?" She challenged. "Shut...up." He replied simply, making her laugh. "What? I'm just saying what I see." Carlos looked back at her. "Do you want to go back to your room?" He asked. Y/n shrugged her shoulders. "Fine, I'll-" She went to walk past him before Carlos finally opened his door and brought her with him. "We are never going to your room, your room is always beside your father or someone else we know." He said before his lips attacked her neck. She hummed in response. "You're literally right next to Charles."

"That's not the same." He whispered, pushing her towards the bed and taking off his shirt. "And you don't think the team will be suspicious of you going missing?" She asked, her brow arched as Carlos flung his Ferrari shirt to the side and focusing on the buckle of his belt. "I don't give a fuck what they think." He replied, finally getting around the buckle and pulling his trousers down. "Now, let's get to the matter of business." He tugged at the sides of her shorts. "Why the shorts today?" Y/n chuckled as she watched him fiddle with the zipper. "I thought they looked good on me." She replied simply. "And you know, I agree. But keep these for our 'outings' in Monaco." He said, pulling them down and throwing them right next to his shirt.

"Did they drive you that crazy?" She asked as he loomed over her. "Princesa, I drove past the pit wall just to get a look at you, nevermind what I was thinking of doing to you in them." His lips trailed down her toned torso, leaving gentle kisses as he did. Y/n shivered with the feeling, looking down through hooded eyes and seeing the spaniard biting her lace panties and pulling at them. She giggled, running her fingers through his hair. "Show me what you want to do to me." Carlos' lips left a wet trail of hungry kisses all over her, even leaving traces of lilac bruises in a few spots where no one would see them, but in the event someone would, they would know she belonged to him; his own personal stamp.

"As much as I'm enjoying this-" She paused, rolling the pair over and pushing him down into the mattress. "I'd much prefer if I was on top this time." Carlos' brows knotted in confusion. "Why? Do you think I don't do a good enough job?" He asked. "No, I just think I could do better." Grinning, Carlos relaxed into the bed, his hands resting behind his head, watching closely as Y/N straddled him and sat comfortably on his hips. She slowly pulled off her shirt, revealing a matching bra. His lips parted as he took a breath in. "Like what you see?" She asked, running her fingers up his abs. His fingers ran up her thighs until his hands had a firm grip of her ass. She tapped his hands away. "Ah, ah, ah, no touching, Carlitos." She purred. Carlos smirked as he watched her tower over him. "I think you're in for a very long night." Carlos chuckled. "Is that a promise?" He shivered at that question. "I swear." He replied.

Y/n lined herself up with Carlos' cock, teasing by making him wait much longer than he would ever have to. "Please, amor. Just let me feel you." She smiled at his pathetic pleads and gave him what he desired. Her head fell bad in ecstacy as she slid down, trying her best to take him all as best she could. "You need to relax, you don't don't have all of it yet." A wild grin appeared on her face. "Egotistical much?" She was quickly shut up by Carlos raising his hips slightly and pushing in just a bit more. She bit her lip to muffle her moan yet she failed miserably. "You're sounding like you're enjoying this too much." He grimaced as his hands slowly traced lines on the skin of her thigh again. She groaned in annoyance, grabbing his hands and pulling them up over his head, pinning them to the headboard. He looked at her, an element of surprise on his face. "Don't be so impatient." Her hips moved agonisingly slow as she watched how Carlos' mouth fell open. "Eso se siente bien." He groaned, his head falling back into the pillow, showing his delicious jawline. "Me has enseñado bien." She whispered, kissing his throat and continuing on. "You're going to be the death of me, amor."

As she rode him she felt herself coming closer to her high and Carlos could feel it. Her walls tightened around him and her grip on his wrists became tighter as her mind focused on her orgasm. "Lo estás haciendo muy bien, amor. Sigue adelante." Although they were both Spanish, something did it for him speaking to her in Spanish. She felt herself crumbling as his words helped to cloud her mind before she finally reached her high, riding it out and her grip loosening. Once she stopped, she looked down at Carlos, a small and innocent smile on her lips. The smile soon left her face as she saw him look at her like a lion looks at its prey. "My turn." Before she could say another word, Carlos was on top, the long pieces of his hair dangling down near Y/n's forehead. He slid in, earning a moan from Y/n. She gripped his shoulders as he began at a relentless pace, making her overstimulated. She struggled to make any sounds, the noise stuck in her throat. "I can't hear you princesa." He whispered in her ear as he dropped to his forearms, his thrusts going deeper. Almost like he gave her permission, the sinful sounds came from her lips. "Fuck, Carlos." She said, her voice strained. She felt his grin against the skin on the crook of her neck.

Suddenly, Carlos felt a sharp sensation on his shoulder. He winced and raised his head, seeing Y/n pull away. "What are you-"

"Oh what? So you get to mark me but I can't leave my mark on you?" Carlos chuckled, pulling out. Y/n looked at his, desperation for her to orgasm a second time in her eyes. "He lay on his back again and grabbed her hand, lowering it down to his cock. "I want to watch you do it." He rasped. Y/n bit her lip, once again sitting up once again and straddling him. Her hips rocked back and fourth. She lowered herself down so her head would rest on his chest. Her lips explored his chest, bruises being staining his skin like watercolour stains a blank canvas. "Fuck." He mumbled. He could feel himself getting closer. He gripped her hips and began with his sloppy thrusts. Y/n's hands roamed his body. "Hold the headboard." He instructed, getting annoyed with the wandering hands. She reached up and held the headboard as it banged against the wall, undoubtedly chipping the wall. She felt a hand reach up and grab one of her tits, squeezing and playing with them as if it were a toy, but she liked it. She felt herself coming to a second orgasm sooner than she expected, but she wasn't complaining.

As the pair rode out their orgasms, their panting and the smell of sex filled the room. Y/n had climbed off Carlos and lay beside him, a comfortable silence surrounding them. Carlos, tracing circles on Y/n's hand, suddenly looked deep into her eyes. She knotted her brows. "What?" She asked. "I can't believe how incredibly lucky I am to have you in my life." She laughs, slapping his bare chest as if he was joking and trying to be cliche, but when her eyes went back to his, they held the most sincerest look she had ever seen. "You make me feel like me." He paused. "You're my everything." Y/n smiled, playing with Carlos's hair. "You're my everything too, Carlos, but-"

He groaned knowing where this was going. "Not again." He mumbled, turning to lay on his back. "Carlos." She started. "We have to tell him. He will kill me if we don't." She said. "He will kill me if we do!" He retorted. "Carlos, we have to tell my dad. I have to tell my dad." Carlos looked as her chin rested on his chest. He couldn't help but feel so terribly bad. "He is going to kill us." He whispered, wrapping his arms around her. "Maybe, but I want to actually come to you without having to be so secretive." He had to admit, the whole secret thing was getting ridiculous. Even the simplest thing like liking one another's posts can and would be investigated by fans; it's what they did. "Can I think about what I'm going to say? I don't think he's going to appreciate me going out with his daughter who is ten years younger than me."

"Nine and a half years younger." She corrected. "Like that changes it." He rolled his eyes. "Carlos, if we don't tell him I'm not going to be with you. We have kept this secret for almost a year now and I would like to actually go out with you outside the paddock." Carlos sighed and looked between her eyes. He couldn't say no to her. "Okay, I'm not sure when we will but we will." He lifted her hand to rest on his chest. "As long as my heart beats, it's yours and since it's yours, it will do what you ask." Y/n smiled. "Will it let me bring you to the shower?"

"As tempting as that sounds, I have to head back to the paddock to get some work done." Carlos replied, kissing her. "But we can tomorrow morning." She nodded as she got up out of bed and headed to the bathroom whilst Carlos got up and collected his clothes, promptly dressing himself. "Jesus fucking christ." Carlos muttered, looking at his bare chest in the mirror. "My finest work yet." Y/n smiled, wrapping her arms around him and pecking his shoulder. He hummed, a tone of unamusement lingering. "At least its less noticeable than-" He paused, turning to Y/n in her towel. "Than whatever the fuck I have done to you." He was of course referring to the many bruises left on her collarbone and all down her torso. "I can't even wear my nice dress to dinner with my dad now." She uttered, faking her sadness. "If it's any consolation, mi amor, Fernando thinks that dress will prompt the single and younger drivers to make a move on you and he doesn't want that." His arms wrapped around her waist, resting on her lower back. "He has nothing to worry about. I have my old and not-so-single driver right here." She joked. "They could never do what I do." Y/n arched a brow. "You don't think Oscar would-"

"Get out before you make me even more late!"

[riddlesrizzler]

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙮

summary: please, i've been on my knees. change the prophecy. characters: mattheo riddle, reader warnings: none word count: 1.1k a/n- week three of festival of aus!!!

The silence in the bridal chamber was suffocating.

Thick velvet curtains blocked out the morning sun, drowning the room in muted blue light. An enchanted fire crackled in the hearth, more for appearance than warmth. You stood before the gilded mirror, motionless, watching the rise and fall of your chest as though your reflection belonged to someone else.

The gown was beautiful-ivory silk stitched with ancient runes, delicate lace climbing up your collarbones like frost. It fit like it had been made for you, because it had been. You were dressed like a queen, but you felt like a lamb draped in finery, led toward a fate carved out centuries before you were born.

The stylists had left hours ago, but their perfume still lingered in the air. Lilac, rosewater, smoke. You hated it. You hated the stillness, the silence, the spellwork sealed into every fold of fabric.

You hadn’t cried. Not yet.

Because crying would mean accepting it.

You heard the door open behind you-a soft creak, followed by the measured sound of his boots against the polished stone floor. You didn’t turn. You didn’t need to. His presence filled the room like shadow curling at the edges of candlelight.

Mattheo.

He moved slowly, as if unsure of his place in this room, in this moment. In your life.

He didn’t speak right away. You could see him in the mirror’s reflection-dark hair tousled, black robes sharp against his pale skin. His tie hung untied around his neck like a noose that hadn’t been pulled tight yet.

“You look…” he began, his voice low, rough, and a little hoarse. “Like you’ve made peace with dying.”

You held his gaze in the mirror, face unreadable. “Funny,” you murmured. “I was going to say the same about you.”

His lips twitched, not quite a smile, not quite a sneer. He looked tired-too tired for someone about to be wed. His hands stayed in his pockets as he leaned against the wall, watching you like he was trying to figure out if this version of you was real, or just another illusion.

“They’re waiting,” he said after a long pause. “Best not to keep the gods bored.”

You turned away from the mirror, your fingers brushing the embroidery at your waist. Tiny runes hummed beneath your touch-protection, union, permanence.

No escape.

You walked past him without a word. The smell of clove smoke and something darker-ancient magic, maybe-clung to him like a second skin. You didn’t look back.

The ceremony was held at dusk, beneath the carved stone archways of the Riddle ancestral estate. The air tasted like old magic and colder promises.

They’d draped the space in deep greens and silvers, woven with floating candles that hovered like stars caught mid-fall. Guests watched with wide eyes and polite smiles, draped in their own silk chains of duty and legacy.

You stood across from Mattheo, your hand in his, your pulse thudding behind your ribs like a caged bird.

A priestess recited the binding spell in a language older than death. Your names echoed through the hall like thunder on glass. You repeated the vows like you’d practiced-each word a stitch in a seam you could no longer rip.

Mattheo said his lines without flinching, but there was a tightness in his jaw. His fingers were warm but unmoving in yours.

Then came the kiss.

Brief. Pressed lips, nothing more. No spark, no fire, no tenderness.

A formality.

They applauded. You smiled.

You drowned.

That night, the manor was too quiet. Too clean. You padded through its endless halls like a child in a stranger’s home, every candle flickering with spells you didn’t know.

You found him in the drawing room, sitting in the high-backed leather chair by the fire, a crystal tumbler of firewhisky in his hand. He didn’t look up when you entered, but he gestured silently to the bottle on the table.

You poured yourself a glass and sat across from him. The chair was too big, the fire too hot. The glass too full.

You stared into the flames for a while, the silence stretching between you like a spell with no end.

Then, barely above a whisper, the words escaped your lips like a prayer:

“Please. I’ve been on my knees. Change the prophecy.”

His head turned slightly. You felt his gaze even before you saw it.

“You think I wanted this?” he said, voice soft, but sharp enough to cut.

You didn’t look at him. “Does it matter?”

A long pause. Then he drained his glass and set it down with a gentle thud.

“No,” he said quietly. “I suppose it doesn’t.”

Sleep didn’t come easily after that.

You roamed the manor like a ghost in a cursed painting-bare feet against stone, fingers tracing the cracks in ancient wallpaper. You found the west wing at dawn, the ceiling a dome of enchanted glass showing the sky above, clouds drifting slow like forgotten dreams.

You tilted your face upward, eyes stinging.

“Just someone who wants my company,” you whispered to the stars. “Let it once be me.”

Days passed like pages being turned too quickly.

You and Mattheo shared meals in silence. Attended functions together. Stood close in public, careful to smile, to brush hands as though it meant something.

But at night, your hands remained still.

He was never cruel. Never touched you without consent. He didn’t mock, or threaten, or lash out. He simply existed near you-close, but impossibly distant. Like a moon circling a planet it could never touch.

You caught him once in the study, sitting by the window, a letter clutched in one hand. His other rested on the arm of the chair, fingers twitching like he’d been gripping a wand or a knife or maybe just an old memory.

He looked up when he noticed you.

For a moment, the mask slipped. You saw something raw flicker in his eyes-pain, maybe. Or guilt.

You said nothing.

You simply left.

You dreamed of him sometimes.

Not the man with the cold hands and sharp eyes, but someone softer. Someone who might have read poetry in secret, or loved the wind on his face, or kissed someone because he wanted to.

In those dreams, he reached for you.

And in the morning, your pillow was damp with tears you never let fall while awake.

They said soulmates were real.

But no one told you they could be arranged.

You laid awake that night beside him, both of you staring up at the canopy ceiling like it held the answers.

No words.

No touch.

No warmth.

Only silence, and the sound of fate laughing in the dark.

And as your eyes drifted closed, you realized the truth of it, carved into your ribcage like a spell you never asked for:

We were strangers in matching rings.

[kiwriteswords]

Won't you please arrange it? Cause I love you. [Aaron Hotchner x Florist!Reader]

Florist!Reader Masterlist|| Main Masterlist [I need to update this, sorry!]|| Ao3||Word Count: 3.8k|| AN:  Weddings were always SO fun and so romantic when I worked as a florist. The chaos was unruly, but the excitement always outweighed that! Tags/Warnings: Female!Reader, Florist!Reader, Non-BAU!Reader, established-relationship, Sassy!Reader, Flirty!Reader, weddings, marriage, alluding to fear of commitment (sorta), romance, fluff, healing!reader, hotch and florist have been dating for some time, Grant Anderson wedding!! Summary: While preparing the wedding flowers for a BAU colleague, you find yourself imagining a future you never let yourself believe in: one where the man who sees every part of you, Aaron Hotchner, might just be the one waiting at the end of the aisle.

It was well past seven, the shop long closed to customers, but you were still inside, apron smudged with pollen and eucalyptus sap, hands deep in a box of ivory roses that had been overnighted from a grower you trusted with your life. 

The backroom smelled like heaven--

Fresh lilac, white ranunculus, garden roses, blush sweet pea, trailing jasmine. It was organized chaos: half-filled vases, open ribbon spools…small cards scribbled with table seventeen: soft mauve and sage green--no baby’s breath. Bride’s orders. Mother of Groom allergic to lilies. Bride said that using quotations.

The wedding was in two days.

Agent Anderson and his fiancée had come in sheepish and sweet, asking if--maybe, if it wasn’t too much trouble--you’d consider doing the flowers for their wedding.

Hotch had just smirked behind them, arms crossed like he’d known it was coming all along.

And honestly? You’d loved the idea. Weddings were your groove. Stressful? Sure. But magical? Always. 

Something about crafting the very things someone would hold as they said forever just…filled you.

Every rose. Every ribbon. Every goddamn petal.

You were all in.

Which is why, when the bell over the door chimed and you heard the lock click behind it, you didn’t even look up from your bouquet-in-progress.

“You’re technically breaking and entering,” you called out, voice teasing, fingers still weaving stems into the bouquet holder.

Hotch’s voice answered, dry but warm, “I have a key. And probable cause.”

You grinned. “What’s the probable cause?”

“Suspicious activity,” he said, appearing in the doorway to your workroom. “Owner hasn’t texted in hours. Lights still on. No sign of food or hydration. Floral debris everywhere.”

You turned around, bouquet in one hand, clippers in the other, arching a brow. “Sounds like someone’s just really good at their job.”

His eyes swept the room, the table, you.

To many, the place would have looked like utter chaos. But Hotch? He knew you well enough now. Too well, you’d argue some days. There was a madness to your craziness. There was order in the mess. The pile to your left was clippings that could be repurposed: the flower girl’s petals, a groomsmen’s boutonniere, the mother of the bride’s corsage…

Then he stepped closer, tilting his head slightly as he looked at the bouquet. “That the bride’s?”

You nodded, turning it slightly to show him the cascade of white and blush peonies, spirea, and pale mauve lisianthus spilling from the center like a waterfall.

Hotch blinked slowly. Taking in the talent…but more so taking in you, “It’s beautiful.”

You smiled, brushing a thumb over one of the petals. “It has to be. It’s the one she’s going to hold when she walks down the aisle. When she sees him. I want her to look at it and remember that exact second forever. Every time she looks at a peony, I want her to remember this day.”

You thought about the few good men out there. The ones that came into your shop for an anniversary purchased bouquets of pale white roses with Queen Anne’s lace instead of baby’s breath because those were the exact flowers the two of them had on their wedding day. 

Flowers made a lasting impression.

They were the friend that accompanied you on some of your biggest days. Weddings, funerals, birthdays, recitals, graduations…they were always--always--a friend.

Hotch watched you for a moment, quietly.

The way your hands moved. The way your mouth softened when you looked at your work. The joy that practically radiated from your skin, even with circles under your eyes and flower bits in your hair.

He had no idea how he got this lucky.

“You know,” he said, stepping up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who works more unpredictable hours than I do.”

You leaned back into his chest. “You’re not the only overachiever in this relationship, Hotchner.”

“I’m aware.”

You turned in his arms, still holding the bouquet awkwardly between you. “Have I told you how glad I am you agreed to be my date?”

He smirked. “Anderson made it very clear I didn’t have a choice. Something about needing to show off the power couple.” Hotch cringed at his own use of the word: power couple. 

You laughed, mock moving the clippers in your hands, wiggling your eyebrows, “We are kind of intimidating, huh?” You placed the clippers back on your workbench and took in the mixed aroma of the powdery peonies and Hotch’s cologne now filling the stuffy space.

Hotch leaned down, brushing a kiss against your temple. “You, yes. Me? Only when I’m holding a gun.”

You tilted your head. “You’re very intimidating with a boutonnière, too.”

“That so?”

You held up one of the finished ones from the tray near the sink. “Try me.”

Hotch smirked, taking it and gently pinning it to the lapel of his blazer. He pinned it with such ease. When you first became a florist, you were baffled by how many men began to need assistance with a pin and a petite bouquet. But Hotch? He made it look easy. He made everything look easy.

“How do I look?”

You stepped back, fake-swooning. “Like I should marry you on the spot.”

That made him pause.

Almost took the breath from his lungs--

Knocked the wind from his sails. 

Something you…you had a habit of doing, but it was as if realization flooded over him. How he just could marry you on the spot. If you’d let him, of course. 

You’d probably put up a bit of a fuss. Act like you didn’t want it. Share some slightly cynical statistics about weddings and marriage. Yet, deep down, he knew you well enough to know that you did want it. 

You wouldn’t be working here and surrounding yourself with it if you didn’t fully believe or want it wholeheartedly.

You didn’t notice. You were already turning back to your arrangement. A few more sprigs and you were close to being finished. 

He reached for your wrist gently. “Hey.”

You looked up.

His expression had softened, all the teasing tucked behind something a little deeper.

“I love watching you do this,” he said simply. “I know how hard it is to care about something this much and still do it well. You make it look easy.”

You felt that one in your chest.

You felt that one in your soul. 

To be loved, is to be seen.

To be loved…is to be seen.

TO BE LOVED. IS TO BE SEEN. 

To. Be. Loved. Is. To. Be. Seen.

That quote played like a broken record in your brain. You could have stared at him for a minuscule second or maybe five minutes. But you felt so…so seen. 

He was staring right through you.

Right at you.

“Thank you,” you said, quieter now.

“You ready to go home?”

You shook your head. “Not yet. I’ve got three more centerpieces, and the aisle markers haven’t even started.” You looked around at your organized mess, “Oh, and the mother of the bride and groom’s corsages, ugh,” you groaned, “I have to wait until the last second to do those because they’re so damn fragile.” You got back into your rhythm, “They’ll wither to pieces if I don’t.”

“You’re going to wither to pieces if you don’t eat something sustainable soon,” Hotch checked his watch. “I can give you an hour. After that, I’m carrying you out.”

You grinned. “You say that like it’s a threat.”

He leaned in, kissed the side of your neck. “It’s a promise.”

You exhaled a soft laugh, and he just held you there for a second--his arms wrapped around your middle, the smell of lilacs and coffee clinging to your skin.

Somehow, amidst the chaos of your workshop, covered in thorns and tape and half-finished beauty, it felt like the most romantic place in the world.

It always was with him. 

You lost track of time completely in the two days leading up to the wedding.

Your shop transformed into a full-blown production zone: tables covered with rows of centerpieces in progress, glass vases waiting to be packed, crates of blooms stacked in the walk-in cooler, ribbons fluttering from every knob and handle. 

You moved in a rhythm--focused, deliberate, elbows deep in roses and ranunculus and fern--and still somehow chasing the clock.

Hotch had started showing up every night after work.

Always the same.

Loosened tie. Rolled sleeves. Low voice. Calm presence.

That first night, he offered to help.

You handed him the floral preservative spray.

He lasted five minutes before he set the bottle down and said, “This smells like a hospital hallway, and a meadow hd a toxic lovechild.”

You tried not to laugh.

“I think I’ll be more useful handling food,” he muttered, disappearing into the backroom.

After that, he became your unofficial project manager.

He made sure you were eating. Made you drink water. Pressed coffee into your hands without being asked. He sat at the edge of the worktable and asked about table layout and runner colors, like he understood any of it. He didn’t--

But he cared.

And when you finally packed the last bouquet into its cooler, stood back, and let out a slow, shaky breath, he came up behind you, wrapped his arms around your waist, and said, “You crushed it.”

And you did.

The wedding day arrived in a blur of sunlight and music.

Anderson looked nervous in a sweet, fumbling kind of way. His bride glowed. The venue--draped in warm light and blush-toned blooms--was picture perfect. The centerpieces were crisp, the aisle markers held beautifully, and the bouquet? 

The one you’d trimmed and retied and fluffed four separate times?

Perfect.

You wore a floral dress.

Flowy, soft, romantic.

A little on-the-nose? Sure. But so you.

Hotch wore a dark navy suit with a tie that matched one of the floral hues of your dress. A subtle pocket square peeked from his lapel--

Same shade. 

He didn’t say a word when you complimented him. Just reached for your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And as the ceremony began, you sat beside him--close, impossibly close, thighs brushing, shoulders aligned--and for once, you didn’t look at the florals.

You didn’t scan for wilting petals or crooked vases. You didn’t worry about whether the arbor garland was holding or if the corsages had been pinned correctly.

Your hand was in his. His thumb was brushing soft circles against your skin. His cologne--warm, clean, him--curled into your lungs like it belonged there.

And he was looking at you.

Not at the bride.

Not at the aisle.

Definitely not at Anderson, who was a puddle of tears at the alter.

You.

Like he already knew what you were thinking.

Like he was thinking it too.

And you couldn’t stop the wave that hit you then--not nerves, not fear.

Just clarity.

You'd never been the girl who let herself imagine a wedding of her own. You knew too well how expectations led to disappointment. You’d spent years scoffing at that brand of fantasy--

Keeping your heart safe by staying realistic.

But now?

With him?

With the weight of his hand in yours and the warmth of his love so constant, so quietly fierce, you didn’t even realize how deeply you’d sunk into it?

You couldn’t not imagine it.

Dreams did not seem too far out of reach when you were dating Aaron Hotchner. 

Not a venue. Not a dress.

Just him.

The man who came to your shop every night without being asked.

The man who didn’t flinch at your mess or your stress or your silence.

The man who wore a tie to match your flowers, and who--right now--was looking at you like he knew every secret you weren’t saying.

You turned your head slightly, and he leaned in.

“I love you,” he whispered, low and reverent.

Your breath caught.

Your fingers curled tighter into his.

And when you whispered it back, something in his eyes softened like he’d been holding that hope for far too long.

God, you loved him.

So much it bloomed in your chest like wildflowers--

Unruly and full.

Because maybe that’s what you were. All of this time, you tried to put yourself into the category of traditional. Yet, you couldn’t be tamed. You were not some neat rose bouquet or dainty sprig of carnation. You were a coneflower…or a poppy…or an aster. Something…something wayward and lawless. 

Wandering and oftentimes chaotic. 

You’d spent your whole life trying to find someone to hold you. You’d been looking at people who only knew how to hold traditional. Safe. Calm.

Yet Hotch? He could hold the wild, untethered, ethereal person you were. 

And for the first time ever, you let yourself picture the walk. The vows. The bouquet you’d never have to design--

Because someone else would make it for you.

And you’d walk toward him.

And he’d look at you just like this.

Because he was already yours.

After, the sun dipped low over the reception tent, casting everything in a warm, dusky glow. The fairy lights strung overhead began to flicker to life, one by one, like fireflies waking up. There was a hum of soft conversation, champagne fizzing in glasses, the faint scent of peonies and greenery weaving through the air.

The dance floor had just opened. Music floated in--

Something romantic but timeless, instrumental and slow, the kind of song that didn’t need lyrics to get its point across.

You stood off to the side with a glass of prosecco in hand, still glowing from compliments on the florals.

Hotch appeared behind you, sliding his hand low against your back, voice close to your ear.

“You know there’s a whole tent of people talking about the flowers instead of the bride.”

You grinned, eyes scanning the candlelit tables. “That’s because the bride didn’t come in four hours before the ceremony to personally reposition the arbor installation.”

“She didn’t have to,” he said. “She had you.”

You turned to him slowly, raising a brow. “Are you flirting with me, Agent Hotchner?”

His mouth tilted in that unfairly attractive, knowing smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, sipping your drink. “You only flirt with your eyes.”

“That’s not true,” he said, stepping closer. “Sometimes I flirt with my hands.”

He let one of them slide down your bare arm--slow, feather-light, possessive in the gentlest way.

You laughed, but it came out a little shaky. “You should probably dance with me before I combust.”

“Can’t have that, can we?” He took the glass from your hand and set it on a nearby table. “Then let’s save your life.”

The two of you stepped onto the dance floor.

He pulled you close, hand resting respectfully at your waist, your other hand finding its way to his shoulder.

You weren’t the most graceful dancer--not in heels, not in long dresses--but somehow, with him, you moved like you were born for it. He guided you effortlessly, his hand gentle, his body strong and sure. You could feel every breath he took. Every inch of warmth between you.

“I’ve seen you knee-deep in buckets of blooms, hair a mess, hands full of wire and tape--and you’ve always taken my breath away. But tonight, I think you might’ve just finished me off.”

Your lips curled. “Don’t say that. You’ll ruin your image.”

“I’ll survive,” he murmured.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, heart full.

You’d never been a pristine bouquet kind of girl. 

You were a wildflower by nature--

Soft in the middle, a little unruly, a little overgrown, impossible to contain.

You knew how to thrive in the dirt, in the chaos, in the sun and the storm.

And somehow--somehow--you’d found the one person who didn’t try to trim you back.

He just held you like you bloomed just fine the way you were.

Hotch didn’t say much for the next few minutes. He just held you like the world outside the tent didn’t exist. And every now and then, you caught him looking at you with that quiet, reverent gaze--

The one that said more than I love you. 

The one that said I choose you.

Even when you’re messy. Even when you’re loud. Even when you don’t think you’re easy to love.

Especially then.

The song faded into another, more upbeat number, but neither of you moved.

You looked up at him, cheeks a little flushed from the prosecco and the moment. Maybe this wasn’t the right time. Was there a right time? You’d never brought up the topic with him before. 

Despite having worked on…handfuls of weddings since dating him. Yet…yet this? It was so different. 

“Can I ask you something?”

His brow lifted slightly. “Always.”

You swallowed, “Do you ever think about getting married again?”

He didn’t pause.

He didn’t blink.

He just looked at you like he’d already been waiting for the question. 

Like maybe if you didn’t ask it, he would have.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it,” he said, “since you held that bridal bouquet the other day.”

Your breath hitched. “Seriously?”

He nodded. Confident. “You looked like the future. My future.”

You stared at him--caught somewhere between awe and something close to panic--and then laughed, light and breathless.

“Well,” you said, “maybe we should just rip the band-aid off and get married right now.”

Hotch glanced around the floral-filled tent--

Then back at you. 

Dry and devastatingly sincere.

“There are far too many calla lilies here for your liking.”

You froze.

And your whole heart twisted in your chest, full and fast and certain.

Because he remembered.

Of course, he did.

Every preference. Every offhand comment. Every flower you adored and every one you couldn't stand. He saw every version of you--thorned and blooming--and loved you with his whole chest anyway.

You stared at him, suddenly breathless.

And in that moment, with the laughter still warm between you, the stars coming out above, and the scent of garden roses all around…

You knew.

You were going to marry this man.

Someday.

Hotch’s fingers curled a little tighter around yours as the music picked up again, but neither of you moved to leave the dance floor.

You were still caught in the moment, in him, in the warmth of what he’d just said. The idea of forever no longer something abstract or intimidating—

But real. 

Tangible.

Safe.

You rested your forehead against his chest for a beat, grounding yourself.

“Calla lilies,” you murmured with a small smile.

You felt his chest rumble softly as he replied, “Unforgivable.”

You leaned back just enough to look up at him. “You really do know me.”

“I pay attention,” he murmured.

You turned your head slightly, looking up at him.

“To what?”

He smiled—

Not the public kind. 

The private one. 

The one that came with soft eyes and that quiet tilt of his head that said he saw you.

“To everything,” he said simply. “The way you laugh when you’re tired. How your shoulders drop when you’re proud of something you made. What flowers you hate. The way you hum when you work without realizing it.”

He kissed your temple, the gesture feather-light.

“Every part of you.”

You tried to keep breathing, but it was unfair, really, how easily he could undo you—how being loved like that, seen like that, turned your chest inside out in the best possible way.

You let your forehead rest against his for a beat before the chatter of the reception pulled you back.

“Come on,” you whispered. “They’ll start teasing if we stay out here too long.”

He offered you his hand like you were still in a ballroom, and he was your formal escort. You took it anyway.

The team was exactly how you left them: lively, halfway through their drinks, and already halfway into the next round of commentary.

As you and Hotch reached the table, Garcia let out a delighted gasp. “Finally. I was about to send out a search party. Possibly with glitter.”

“You looked good out there,” Prentiss said with a smirk, swirling the last of her wine. “A little too good. Hotch, you trying to make the rest of us look bad?”

Hotch pulled out your chair for you before answering, casually slipping into the seat beside you.

“I’m just dancing with the love of my life,” he said, like it was the simplest truth in the world.

You froze for half a second—

But no one else did.

“Oh no,” Morgan said, setting his drink down dramatically. “See, that right there? That’s the tone of a man ready to drop to one knee.”

“Seriously,” JJ added with a knowing smile. “Maybe we should start vetting florists now—because the way he looks at her? We’re definitely attending another wedding soon.”

Hotch didn’t even blink.

He just looked at you.

Dead serious. Still a little soft.

“I wouldn’t rule it out,” he said.

Your heart jumped.

But not in a bad way, jumped? Which was weird for you because your avoidant personality typically would be running for the hills about now.

Garcia gasped. “Oh my God. Can I officiate? I’ll cry. I’ll sob. But I’ll do it.”

“Can we not propose at Anderson’s wedding?” you managed to say, grinning even as you reached for your drink to cool off your entire existence.

“You’re right,” Hotch said, sipping his half-forgotten drink, “What I’d have planned wouldn’t be half as tacky.”

“Fair,” Emily said, raising her glass. “But just saying—might want to start thinking about who’s going to do your flowers.”

You opened your mouth, probably to make a snarky comeback—

But Hotch leaned closer again, voice low, meant for you alone.

“I already know what I’d pick,” he said. “And I’d help. But only if you’d let me.”

You stared at him, caught somewhere between a laugh and a breath and a dream that was getting a little too close to real.

God, you were going to marry this man.

Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow.

But it was going to happen.

And when it did—

There wouldn’t be a single calla lily in sight.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016  @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @Sweethotchlogy @softtdaisy @stilestotherescue @midnghtprentiss @superlegend216

[h109zone]

distractions—nsfw

synopsis. caleb returns after a long business trip, finally having him in your arms. a moment of glee courses through your veins until he gets a phone call from his colleague and takes him away from you. that can’t do, you have to do something about it.

pairing. caleb x afab!reader

words. 2.3k

warning. porn without plot, slight exhibitionism (caleb gets fucked while on a call), hand job through cloth, blow job, reader wants attention, skull fucking, fingering, open ending.

a/n. this a repost from my old blog, becomingsylus.

minors do not interact. re-read the warnings before reading, as after clicking “keep reading”, i am not responsible for the media you consume.

How long has it been since you’ve seen Caleb? You don’t know, but you don’t care at the moment since he decided to show up unexpectedly at your apartment in his uniform.

It was clear he came in after duty with his luggage in one hand and flowers held by his other hand, standing there with his anticipatory smirk and head tilt of endearment. You pulled him into your embrace, leaving him almost stumbling into you. The sheer glee that emanated through your system just to see your long-distance boyfriend was contagious as Caleb laughed at your eagerness as he kicked the door shut.

After placing the flowers in the vase, and him disappearing into your room, your eyes traced Caleb’s movement and you can’t help but ogle at his form with his uniform. The naturally relaxed and placid demeanor paired with the honorable and sophisticated style of the uniform is laced with badges and medals. Oh, were you at the edge of a cliff, ready to go and take him right there where you can get him to—

“hey?”

You snapped out of your thoughts before it went to a dangerous territory before looking at the source. Caleb stood at the edge of the hallway, now in casual clothing, smiling at you as he noticed your zones out face.

“you alright there?” he asked with a gentle tone, walking up to you in careful steps. He kneels down to your eye level where you're sitting, his necklace carelessly dangles down, swaying back and forth like a pendulum right in front of your face. God does he make you go insane without meaning to.

“yeah, I’m alright…"

Totally not thinking of riding you right here right now.

"Okay, I'll grab us some snacks while you go pick—" he stated as he got up from kneeling, only for you to jolt and gripped his arm. He turned around, head tilting in confusion as his trail of view went down from where your hand was placed up to your face that read multiple languages. You shocked yourself with this sudden move, but you had no room to speak as you wanted him even more.

You stood up from your seat, eyes maintaining contact with his lilac irises. He doesn't know what's going on with you, and frankly, you can't explain it verbally, instead, you pushed him down to your sofa before you got on top of his lap, making him gasp and groan at the sudden attack.

Once the shock subsided, he instantly began painting in his infamous cheeky smirk as his hands held your waist while your hands reached up to his face.

"So... that's what you're up to..." Caleb's voice rasped in intrigue as your hands began roaming from his face down to his neck. He shudders as your fingernails graze his neck, goosebumps pimpled up. Before you can reply back with your sly remarks, Caleb pulls you to crash your lips onto his, making you moan in contact.

The kiss was fervent and desperate from both ends like you were both holding back, and indeed you were. Long distance did more damage than good for both of your cravings yet right now it was worthwhile as your tongues danced around each other, finally reuniting for a blissful gathering. The sounds of smacks and moans escaped from both of your lips as it continues its rounds of passion.

You would pull away every now and then to grab a bit of air, but you were both addicted to each other. It was like your lips were magnets, hard to repel and let go of both polar ends. Both yours and Caleb have reign to move around and explore your aroused bodies, with him slipping past your shirt to strip it off leaving you exposed, much to his desire.

His thumb started playing with your bud, making you gasp and feel the heat emanating from your lower region. His lips migrated down to your neck as he continued to play with your clothed nipples, meanwhile, your hands did their fair share of traveling, aiming to get to their desired destination.

His attacks in your neck halted as he suddenly shudder and gasp out a moan as your hand traveled south and palmed through his sweatpants.

"Oh, ffuck...~" Caleb's curses came out with an erotic sigh as your hand began twisting and stroking through the fabric. You finally get to see his blissed-out state in the flesh and not through a screen, the beauty that is his fucked out face while his groans and whines began playing like they were music to your ears. Finally, some time you'd have to yourself—

bzzz bzzz

Caleb's phone vibrated, making you two halt your movements. He checked the phone, and he let out a whispered "shit."

"I'm sorry, pips, but I have to take this. I'll make it quick," Caleb profusely apologized, his eyes pleading with guilt, and his hand caressing your cheek reassuringly before he picked up the call. Of course, you couldn't be mad at him; it wasn't his fault.

But the caller picked the worst time, and you had no one to place your anger at except him, which he consistently encourages you to do. Whilst talking to his subordinate, Caleb noticed you getting up from your lap, his eyes essentially telling you, "What are you doing?"

You paid no mind as you got down on your knees in front of your boyfriend. The anticipation and lust were eating you alive and you were going to lose it. You pulled down his sweatpants and boxers just enough to free his hard cock out of its restraints. Despite Caleb's stoic demeanor, his cock spoke otherwise—angry, excited and ready to be inserted in a warm place.

Caleb muted the call as he looked down at you, "babe, I'm in a call, you can't—Ha!"

His words were cut off by a gasp as you began kissing the base of his length and your hand began to teasingly graze from his balls up to his tip. You smirked as you hooded your eyes at him, your lips ghosting at the sensitive skin, while his face flushed even redder.

"Go on... don't let me stop you," You teasingly spoke as you smirked before you began kitty licking the head while maintaining eye contact. Caleb looks down at you, gobsmacked, yet he took your teasing demeanor as a challenge, so he smirked back at you as he began stroking your head.

"Colonel... Colonel, are you there?" The caller can be heard calling out from Caleb's phone. Your boyfriend, while maintaining eye contact with you, unmuted the call as he leaned back into the base of the sofa while you began to fully place his cock inside your mouth.

"I'm with you..." Caleb spoke eloquently as if you weren't giving him the best sucking of his life. The call carried on as you bobbed your head up and down his cock, while Caleb tilted his head to the side with a menacing smirk plastered on his face, looking like he has a plan.

You tried to tease him by pulling out and simply licking him up, especially at the tip, almost taunting that he couldn't do anything to please you and instead he has to take this important call.

"Oh yeah?" Caleb mused, you weren't sure if it was directed towards the caller, you, or both of you, but it was in sync with him shoving your head down, making you choke at the sudden action. He held a grip on your hair as he began to thrust up to your head, creating choked sounds from your end. He bit his lips to not let out any moans and showcase any signs of vulnerability in front of his coworker, but the sight of you struggling to fit him entirely while tears rolled down your face made him get closer to the edge.

"Give me one second," Caleb said sternly, as he muted the call once again, and placed the phone to the side. He pulled your head off of his cock, making you gasp for your air. He took his cock that was lubed up by your saliva and began stroking it in a vigorous pace.

"Open up, you better take it and swallow it," he growled out as he found himself having a hard time speaking as the speed of his hand caused him to feel an electric sensation coursing through his veins. You obliged as you stuck out your tongue to not miss any drop of his essence out of your pretty, stretched-out mouth.

"Oh, fuck, I'm gonna cum in that pretty mouth of yours..." He muttered before he began whimpering out more strings of curse words. With a few more pumps, he imploded like a volcano, and his sweet, white lava splatted all across your mouth and face, making him moan at the sight. He pants as he throws his head back while you swallow whatever load that landed on your mouth.

He rolled his head back down at you, still trying to catch his breath, seeing you clean up whatever remained of his pearly juice that you missed. He chuckles as he pats your head and whispers, "such a good girl... c'mere."

Despite a command, he pulled you in to kiss him, his cum still staining your mouth, his tongue tasting himself making him moan at the flavor combined with your lip balm. He pulled away, still craving more out of you, he pushed you down to the mattress and began pulling down your skirt and panties in a quick motion, making you giggle at his excitement. The cool air making contact with your bare pussy caused you to clench in sensitivity and excitement. Your eyes began to sparkle as he began to strip off his remaining clothing.

However, instead of proceeding, he turns to his phone and got back to the caller, making you scrunch your brow in confusion.

"Sorry about that, my... cat started to rummage around and make a mess," Caleb paused as he looked down at you. His voice was serious and cold when talking yet his eyes were blown with lust, they were ready to eat you up. You were, however, unsure what's happening, he wasn't doing anything and just talking to his colleague while maintaining an intense eye contact with you.

You realized, however, that he was doing mental calculations to pounce, as you were suddenly surpassed by his other hand being placed between your thighs and began playing with your slit. You let out a surprised moan, making you cover your mouth as to not let the caller hear you in this state.

Caleb chuckled darkly as the caller began asking if it was his cat acting up again. Little does he know, the cat in question was writhing and whimpering in pleasure as he inserted both his middle and ring finger and stretched her out for him to fit inside her.

"oh, you have no idea..."

ⓒ 2025 all works done by H109zone do not repost, translate, modify, or plagiarize my work.

[twst-aceofhearts]

A Hunter's Prey

𝖆/𝖓: long awaited rook fic @waterthatsmoe hre you go lol

𝖙𝖜: poison/assassination attempt, death

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: rook x snow white!reader

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖘: 1568

𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖘: @luxaryllis @thegoldencontracts @waterthatsmoe @oya-oya-okay @writingattemptsxx

The forest whispered your name.

Its branches reached for you like curious fingers, sunbeams slipping through tangled leaves like golden threads. You ran—bare feet brushing moss and fallen petals, heart pounding with every beat that echoed Vil’s last command.

"She must be eliminated."

You had overheard it, hidden behind the grand velvet curtain in the throne room. Vil’s voice was honey-dipped poison, beautiful even in cruelty. And though you had once loved her as a sister, the Queen’s heart had turned colder with every glance cast into her ornate mirror.

"Rook, you will be my arrow. Hunt her."

You stumbled into a clearing, gasping for air, and there he was.

Rook Hunt.

The Queen’s favorite hunter. A man cloaked in green and gold, as elegant as he was dangerous. His eyes were a piercing green, sharper than the knives strapped at his belt. A smile played at his lips, serene, unreadable.

“My dear princess,” he greeted with a low bow, his feathered hat sweeping the grass. “The forest has welcomed you warmly.”

Your back hit the trunk of a tree. “You’re here to kill me.”

He didn’t deny it. “Oui.”

Silence stretched. A breeze stirred his blond hair.

“But you haven’t drawn your blade,” you whispered.

“Non.” He stepped closer, eyes trailing the frightened tremble in your shoulders, the light in your eyes that still glowed despite the fear. “You are radiant, like morning dew kissed by dawn. Even the cruelest arrow hesitates before such beauty.”

You shook your head. “If Vil finds out you disobeyed—”

“He already suspects my heart is too soft,” he said lightly. “But it is not softness. It is admiration. I do not wish to end a song before it is sung.”

Rook knelt before you, pulling from his pouch a carved box.

“He desires your heart in this,” he said. “But I will give him a lie.”

You stared as he opened it—inside, a perfect rose carved from stone, stained crimson. It was an imitation. Beautiful. Believable.

“He will be satisfied... for now.”

Your voice was a whisper. “Why are you helping me?”

Rook rose, gaze burning like sunlight through leaves. “Because I hunt only the most wondrous prey. And you, ma chère, are not meant to be slain. You are meant to survive.”

He leaned in, brushing a lock of hair from your face with the gentlest touch. “Run deeper into the forest. There are friends there. A cottage of curious souls who will guard you well. And when the Queen learns of my deceit, I will lead her astray. For the fairest one of all deserves more than a tombstone.”

You stared at him, heart caught between awe and fear.

And then you ran—into the trees, into the unknown—while behind you, the Huntsman stood still, watching with reverence, as though he had just released a dream into the wind.

The day had been warm.

You had just finished sweeping the front step of the little woodland cottage—the one Rook had guided you toward before vanishing back into the trees. The forest had been kind. The birds sang your name, deer nuzzled your palms, and the cottage's tiny inhabitants had welcomed you with wide, curious eyes and gentle hearts.

It almost made you forget the fear that once shadowed your every breath.

Almost.

Until she arrived.

An old woman, cloaked in faded lilac and tattered lace, bent-backed with a basket of gleaming fruit.

“Good afternoon, dear,” she rasped, smiling through cracked lips. “Such a lovely young girl. May an old traveler rest here a moment?”

You hesitated. But kindness was your nature, and you nodded. “Of course, ma’am.”

She sat gratefully, setting her basket beside you. “You must be lonely in this forest. A pretty thing like you deserves a treat.”

She held out an apple.

It was the color of velvet blood. Shiny. Perfect. The kind of red that belonged in storybooks, in dreams. Or nightmares.

You blinked. “That’s very kind, but—”

“Ah, don’t be shy,” she crooned. “A single bite, and you’ll taste happiness itself.”

Your fingers brushed the skin of the fruit. Cold. Too cold.

Still… it gleamed like something forbidden and divine. And for a moment, you imagined sharing a slice with Rook, laughing under a golden sun.

You raised it to your lips.

A crisp sound.

The bite crunched between your teeth, sweet and sharp all at once.

Then—

Agony.

Your throat burned. Your fingers spasmed, the apple tumbling to the ground. The world tilted, spun, darkened.

You gasped for breath but none came.

And as you fell, skirts fanned around you like a wilting flower, you saw the old woman straighten. Too tall. Too graceful. Her disguise dissolved like mist, replaced with beauty too perfect to be human.

Vil.

Eyes like shattered mirrors stared down at you, glittering with triumph and something darker.

“The fairest one of all,” he murmured coldly. “No longer.”

Darkness bloomed in the corners of your eyes. The last thing you saw was Vil’s silhouette turning away—flawless, unbothered, victorious.

And the shattered red of the apple glinting beside your still hand.

It was the silence that told him.

Rook had always known the forest by its song—the rustle of leaves, the gossip of birds, the heartbeat of life. But today, the silence clung like mourning veils, too still, too heavy. As if the forest itself were holding its breath.

When he reached the clearing, he stopped breathing too.

There you lay.

A coffin of glass nestled in a bed of moss and violet petals. The woodland creatures had gathered—silent witnesses to beauty preserved and a tragedy unfinished. Seven small figures stood in solemn vigil, heads bowed, eyes damp.

You looked untouched by death. Frozen in the moment of slumber, lips still parted from the last breath you took. Skin pale as winter’s first snow. Hands folded over your chest, one lock of hair curling against your cheek like the gentle brush of a lover’s hand.

Rook fell to his knees.

“Mon trésor…” he breathed, voice cracking with a sound he had never made before. It was not poetic. It was not elegant.

It was raw.

He touched the glass with trembling fingers. “No... this is not how your story ends.”

They told him what happened. Of the old woman with eyes too sharp, of the apple’s gleam, of how you crumpled to the earth like a fallen star.

And Rook knew.

Vil.

His Queen. His muse. His cruel perfection.

He clenched his jaw until it ached.

But he did not shatter the glass. He did not scream.

Instead, he knelt beside you for days.

He spoke to you in soft murmurs—verses from songs he once sang, stories of hunts you never heard, promises left unspoken.

“You were never prey,” he whispered once. “You were the moonlight. And I... I was too late to follow its path.”

The forest wept with him.

But still, your lips remained still. Still red. Still parted.

Still waiting.

The coffin lay untouched beneath the flowering tree.

Each petal that drifted from above kissed the glass with reverence, as if even nature mourned her. Within, you lay—still, unaging, as if slumber had preserved your beauty just as it had your breath.

Rook Hunt had never feared silence until now.

He stood before the glass, boots soaked with dew, cloak heavier than before. His bow was slung over his shoulder, forgotten. In his hands, he carried a single white lily.

He laid it beside you.

The dwarves had said the spell was unbreakable. That nothing—no magic, no potion—could draw breath back to your lips.

But Rook, hunter of beauty, believed in more than logic.

He believed in love.

He knelt.

“My princess,” he whispered, voice like a prayer. “You still steal my breath, even now, in your quiet sleep. But I have grown selfish. I wish to hear you speak again. To see you smile and know that it was not a memory.”

He placed a hand against the glass.

“It should have been me,” he murmured. “I was meant to protect you. I was meant to defy her, not just with words but with action. I was a coward with poetry and no sword.”

The forest held its breath.

“And yet… if the stories are true, if even one tale holds a grain of hope…”

He stood, leaning over the coffin. His fingers unlatched the cover with the gentleness of snow melting in spring. A soft creak broke the stillness.

He bent forward.

“This is not a goodbye,” he said, brushing his lips to your forehead. Then, to your lips—warm despite the stillness.

A kiss.

Not one of grandeur or ceremony. But a kiss filled with all the words he had never said. All the hunts he would have abandoned just to keep you safe. All the silent sonnets in his heart.

And then—

A breath.

Your fingers twitched.

Rook’s eyes widened, breath catching as you gasped—like surfacing from deep water. Your chest rose, lashes fluttered, and your lips parted as a trembling whisper escaped:

“...Rook?”

Tears blurred his vision.

“Oui,” he choked, gripping your hand with both of his. “Oui, mon cœur. I’m here.”

You stared at him, dazed but alive.

And Rook Hunt, the hunter sent to kill you, the man who once walked with shadows, now wept in the light of your awakening.

The curse was broken.

Not with a blade.

But with love.

credit to @cafekitsune for divider

[bills5lut]

31?? like if reader and billie try to see who goes first without initiating sex, reader teases billie with little outfits and billie folds hard, thank u!!!!

games

masterlist prompt list

warnings: smut, domtop!billie, subbottom!reader, teasing, edging, oral, fingering

synopsis: you go shopping, and show off all your new clothes to billie. it turns into a game of how long she can resist you, before she folds. 

You’d been shopping earlier in the day, an indulgent, maybe slightly naughty kind of trip, and now the spoils of it were strewn across the bed and draped over the dresser: silky fabrics, soft lace, a few things that looked innocent, a few that definitely didn’t. Billie was on the couch in the corner, sprawled out lazily in a hoodie and gym shorts, her arms stretched across the back cushions, legs wide, her gaze locked onto you with unmistakable intent.

She’d been watching you for a while now, her expression somewhere between entertained and tortured. Her jaw clenched just slightly when you bent forward to pick up the next outfit. Her eyes dragged shamelessly down your body every time you turned, her stare heavy like a hand.

You stood directly in front of her, barefoot, skin lit softly by the muted gold of the overhead lamp. The first outfit had been simple, a soft little sundress with thin straps that slipped too easily off your shoulders. Billie’s eyes had flicked up immediately as you adjusted it in the mirror, her fingers twitching on the couch cushion beside her.

She leaned forward instinctively, one hand starting to reach for your waist, but you stepped back with a gentle little pout, voice teasing but firm.

“Billie, no, please. I just want you to honestly tell me what you think.”

She grinned, the curve of it smug and slow. “Mhm. Right. Sure.”

You gave her a look, one brow raised, but you were already moving to the next outfit. You slipped behind the partition, changed quickly, and stepped back out. This one was even worse for her, worse in the best way. It was a barely-there black crop top and a tiny matching skirt. She sat up straighter the second she saw it, exhaling sharply through her nose.

She reached for your thigh this time, fingertips brushing your skin.

You whined gently, stepping just out of reach, pouting harder. “Billie, focus…”

“I’m focused,” she mumbled, biting her bottom lip. But her knees were bouncing now, restless. She nodded again, trying to look composed, but the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth betrayed her.

You tilted your head, gave her an exaggerated pleading look. “C’mon. Please. Just see how long you can go.”

Billie smirked, narrowing her eyes. “Is this a game?”

You blushed, shrugging just slightly. “Suppose it could be…”

Her gaze darkened immediately. She didn’t say anything at first, but the look she gave you was slow, deliberate, full of things she wasn’t yet allowed to act on. You turned away before she could speak again, letting her sit with it, letting her watch the sway of your hips as you moved toward the next piece.

The teasing continued. Every outfit was more daring than the last. One was just some silk pjs, shorts and a button up top - both a light lilac. Another was a sheer nightgown that caught the light in a way that made her groan softly through clenched teeth. By the time you slipped into a red bralette and matching panties, Billie was gripping the couch cushion so hard her knuckles went white.

Her thighs pressed together. She sighed deeply, ran a hand through her hair, and muttered under her breath. You caught her shifting in her seat, like she was trying not to squirm.

You caught her eye in the mirror and bit your lip. “You okay, baby?”

She didn’t answer at first. Her head was tilted back slightly, her chest rising and falling, mouth parted. Her hands were gripping her knees now, knuckles flexing. Then she spoke, voice low and wrecked: “Fuck.”

You cooed gently, stepping closer. “Baby, oh my god… you’re so desperate.”

Billie nodded, fully breathless now. She swallowed hard, blinking slowly, the muscles in her jaw twitching. Her hoodie was bunched up slightly at her hips, and her legs had spread further apart.

When you reached for the hem of your lingerie, she lurched forward, palms landing on your hips with sudden heat.

She thought this was the signal. That the game was over.

But you shook your head, the softest, smug little smile playing on your lips. “No no… this isn’t over yet.”

You peeled the lingerie off slowly, your body moving with theatrical grace, aware of every inch of skin you were revealing. Billie’s eyes followed every motion, her breath getting heavier, her hands twitching again, hovering near your thighs like she was physically holding herself back.

Then, instead of climbing onto her lap like she clearly expected, like she wanted so badly, you sat down on the floor, knees wide, your back to the couch. And you started touching yourself.

The first gasp Billie let out was quiet but sharp, like she’d been slapped. You heard her shift on the couch behind you, her hands digging into the cushions again.

Your fingers moved slow, deliberate, dragging lightly over your inner thigh before slipping up. Your head dropped back against the couch’s edge, eyes fluttering closed, lips parted in a breathy little moan.

Billie groaned behind you, deep and guttural, like she was in pain.

“Jesus Christ…”

You didn’t respond—just arched your back slightly, legs falling further open, fingers circling softly, wet sounds filling the room in a way that made her mutter something incoherent. Two of your fingers softly slipped into your pussy and your hips rolled gently into your own touch. 

The sounds you made were soft, delicate, almost teasing in their intensity. You knew she was watching everything, knew her eyes were on the slick between your legs, on the way your body moved, on every sigh that slipped out.

Billie shifted again. You could feel the weight of her stare burn hotter by the second. She was breathing through her mouth now, the sound of it shallow and fast. You could hear the couch creaking as she adjusted, as her knees came together and then apart again. The muscles in her thighs tensed, her hoodie bunched even higher.

You moaned louder this time, intentionally over the top, your fingers speeding up. Your head dropped to the side as if overwhelmed by your own pleasure, every movement exaggerated, almost mocking in its drama.

That was it.

Suddenly, Billie moved, fast. Her hands wrapped around your wrists, yanking them away from your pussy, her grip firm but careful.

She snarled, low and feral, face inches from yours.

“No. No, you don’t get to do this. I’m in fucking charge.”

Her voice was gravelly, ragged with restraint gone.

You gasped as she hauled you off the floor effortlessly, lifting you like you weighed nothing, dropping you back onto the couch. She was kneeling between your legs before you could say a word, her face level with your cunt, her hands shoving your thighs wide apart.

And then, her mouth. She licked a stripe up your slit so slow it made you jolt. Her tongue was flat, warm, unhurried. The kind of torturous pace that felt like worship and punishment all at once.

You whined, loud and pleading.

Billie didn’t flinch. She buried her mouth against you again, but didn’t speed up. If anything, she went even slower, dragging her tongue in slow, deliberate circles around your clit. Her hands were pinning your thighs down, her thumbs digging into the skin of them, keeping you open and helpless beneath her.

Every flick of her tongue made your breath hitch. You tried to grind into her mouth, but she held you down, teasing you mercilessly. Her eyes stayed locked on your face, watching every twitch, every shiver, every time your jaw dropped in helpless sound.

When you were just about to fall apart again, your hips lifting off the couch, she pulled back.

You whimpered, broken, confused.

Then Billie stood. Slowly. Casually peeling off her hoodie, revealing bare skin beneath. No bra. She pulled her shorts down next, letting them fall to her ankles. She stepped out of them lazily, her eyes never leaving yours.

Then, without a word, she spit on her hand, wet and messy, and began to rub the saliva over her tits, her head tipping back slightly.

You groaned so loud it turned into a half-sob.

“Please,” you gasped, voice ruined. “Billie, please.”

She cocked her head, lips quirking.

“Not nice, is it?” she cooed mockingly. “Finding it hard, baby? Want me?”

You nodded desperately, eyes wide, body trembling.

Billie grinned.

She crawled back over you, her body warm and heavy as she straddled your hips, her mouth dragging over your cheek.

You were practically crying now, every nerve raw and strung out.

“Please,” you whispered again. “Please.”

Billie kissed you slow, deep, open-mouthed, tasting your own arousal on her tongue. She nodded against your lips, her voice low, thick with heat.

And then, she started again.

She kissed you slow at first, dragging her tongue across yours with messy purpose, but the moment her hips started to move, grinding down against your thigh, her slick heat smearing onto your skin — something primal lit up in both of you. She wasn’t teasing anymore. She was claiming.

Her body rocked into yours with a deep, deliberate rhythm, her cunt dragging against the firm muscle of your thigh, slick soaking your skin with each thrust. The couch creaked beneath you both, but she didn’t slow down, if anything, the sound only made her go harder. Her lips never left yours for long, breaking only to whisper half-syllables against your cheek: “fuck,” “baby,” “mine.”

And you… you couldn’t do anything but take it.

She pushed two fingers back inside you like she owned your body, and you gasped so hard it felt like it emptied your lungs. Her palm ground against your clit with every thrust, her fingers curling perfectly inside you, and you arched beneath her, moaning brokenly against her neck.

The pressure was maddening, rough and rhythmic, but still just barely out of reach. She knew what she was doing. She wanted you right there on the edge, wrecked and trembling and so desperate for her you could barely breathe.

Your nails dug into her back as your thighs shook, your whole body burning.

Billie was grinding into the couch now, her eyes fluttering shut, mouth parted in a moan that sounded downright obscene. Her fingers didn’t stop moving inside you, even as she fucked herself against the cushion, wetness audibly soaking into the fabric under her. Her breath came ragged, her whole body tense and shaking with restraint.

Then, her voice,  low and mocking, even as it trembled.

“Close princess?”

You whimpered out something that wasn’t even a word. Your hips bucked up helplessly into her hand.

You nodded hard, your voice cracking. “Yes, fuck, Billie, yes, please”

Your eyes were glassy, lips swollen, the room spinning a little with how fast everything was unraveling. You were begging without even meaning to, your words tumbling out between desperate sobs of breath.

“Please, please, I need you,please”

Billie cooed gently, the sound warm but smug, her thumb dragging slow circles over your clit like she had all the time in the world.

She kissed you again, soft, unhurried, then pulled back just enough to whisper, breath ghosting your lips:

“You’re so fucking pretty like this.”

You groaned like it hurt, like the compliment itself made your pussy clench harder around her fingers.

She fucked you with intention now, every thrust fast, relentless, her wrist flexing hard as she pounded into you. Her other hand gripped the back of the couch for leverage, her teeth gritted, thighs flexing as she started to rut harder into the cushion. Your bodies slapped together over and over, the slick heat of your pussy echoing in the room, shameless and wet and raw.

You cried out loud, spine bowing off the couch.

Her fingers hit the spot inside you that made everything go white. Your legs kicked. Your whole body tensed, thighs locking around her hips as your orgasm surged so fast it scared you.

You clenched around her so tight she gasped, and then you were coming, so hard, so sudden, your voice cracking in her name, the kind of orgasm that punched the air out of your lungs.

Billie groaned the second it hit you, her eyes going wide at the sight of it, the slick dripping down your thighs, the way your body spasmed, the sound of your voice.

She didn’t stop. She chased it. Fingers still deep, her hips grinding against the couch harder and harder until her whole body froze.

A strangled, whimpering noise left her mouth as she came. The muscles in her thighs flexed so hard she shook. You could feel her soaking the cushion beneath her, her breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan. Her head dropped against your shoulder, the weight of her collapse full and warm.

The two of you stayed there, tangled together, panting into each other’s skin.

Billie’s fingers were still inside you, twitching slightly, and you moaned again, softer this time, overstimulated but unwilling to let her go. Her face was pressed against your throat, lips brushing your collarbone.

You both laughed, breathless.

“Why did we do this here?” you managed, eyes fluttering shut. “We made a mess.”

Billie huffed a laugh, nuzzling into your skin. “Don’t care.”

You blinked, body twitching slightly with aftershocks. “The couch…”

“Fuck the couch.”

You both laughed harder this time, everything shaking. The heat of your skin pressed together, the wetness between your thighs, the sound of Billie’s ragged breath still warming your chest. The whole room smelled like sex, like sweat and skin and wet fabric.

Your limbs were limp, tangled with hers. You could feel the slow rise and fall of her chest, her heart still pounding against yours.

She kissed your neck, murmured, “You drive me insane.”

You smiled into her hair. “Good.”

[laylaplease]

NEFARIOUS SIESTA —

MDNI 「 Anakin Skywalker × Fem!reader, somnophilia, non-con, groping, virgin reader, clit play, brief vaginal penetration, corruption kink 」

Snuggled neatly on top of him in your pretty sundress, Anakin soon became your favorite substitute for a mattress — a safe space to doze off whenever you were hit with a wave of tiredness. Your boyfriend, however, wasn’t quite fond of this activity. Spiraling into the vortex of his own filth, Anakin finds it especially difficult to keep his hands above your hips. Watching his angel’s sleep face with her eyelashes resting on her cheeks, pouty lips begging for a kiss, and the plush of her breasts spilling over his chest sparks a terrible need in his head. A need to get his nasty grip over her body and make sure not a hole is left unrearranged.

Trying to fight the undeniable tightening of his pants, Anakin shifts your body up towards him, moving your thigh off his painful crotch. Feeling safe in the arms of your dearest boy who spoils you rotten and treats you like his own little princess, you don’t even shift and continue your precious siesta in the safety of his embrace. That’s when Anakin realizes.

Trailing his flesh hand down your spine, he brushes his fingers over the hemline of your pretty garment. Eyes locked on your face, he’s reminded of the way you plead Ani, I’m not ready yet whenever his greedy paws wander to the Edens of your body. Can’t fight him this time, can you?

Seeing the lack of alertness on your features, Anakin continues his voyage. Slowly folding the lilac pleats over your ass, he curses the laying position from preventing the sight of your underwear. With a featherlike touch, he traces the material, creating a mental image of your lace boyshorts he itched to tear off. Sadly, that would, with no doubt, have caused your awakening, and he just couldn’t risk such an unfortunate incident.

His caress travels down your thigh, which, hiked all the way up to his torso, allows him a perfect opening to your delicious pint. Oh, how would he worship that little virgin hole, stretching it open and filling it full of love... If only his princess weren’t such a prude brat. Look what you’ve done — turned him into a pervert!

Shaking the doubts from his mind, his digits swiftly slip past the material, fingertips tickling your tightly shut slit. One touch is plenty to make his cock stand up proudly, stretching his sweats into a tent. He touches you slowly, the lack of arousal knotting his eyebrows into an unpleased frown. Knowing your sleepy body is too unaware to answer his brief teasing, his long fingers seek further, searching for the tiny nub buried between your folds.

Rubbing your puffy clit, he’s soon pleased with your juices seeping into his palm. That’s when your limbs start twitching as your tummy floods with a familiar warmth. Anakin can’t help but grin to himself proudly, seeing the blissful expression bloom on your face. The same expression Anakin has seen plenty of times when your inexperienced hand is wandering around your cherry folds, calling his name while he secretly stands in the secret corners of your room. He never could keep to himself, not when you moaned for him so sweetly, so desperately, he just had to send a little tingle, a little flick of the force right at your nipple or poor, neglected clit…

But this.. This was different. He was really touching you, feeling your smooth body under his fingers, tainting the precious virgin fields with his desperate touch. You were his; you needed him, so what if you told him no countless times? You were his for the taking; your cunt was MEANT to stretch around him, and soon he would prove that to you. Prove that your pussy was created to host his seed, to be filled over and over again until your walls bruise and your mind recognizes him as your rightful owner.

I don’t want to, it’ll hurt… You’d pout at him each time he’d offer to 'make love to you’, making him wonder how you could guess his intentions to pound you stupid until you’re sore for days. He was only laughing at those memories now while having you at his mercy.

Slowly moving his hand out of your panties, he brings it to his face, watching it glisten with your nectar. Wanting to savor every moment of claiming you, he slowly licks his palm clean of your stickiness.

Once the flavor of you settles on his taste buds, he can no longer bear the ache of his cock, begging to be enveloped inside your creamy tunnel. Careful not to move you, he tugs his sweatpants down, freeing his throbbing length. For a moment he just stares down at you, imagining the struggle your tiny pussy will have to go through to welcome him inside. The way you’ll start whining and squirming in his arms as he splits you apart, the way your hands will cling to him for comfort, and teary eyes will be boring into his, seeking comfort and approval. And he’d give it to you; Anakin would give you anything. At the snap of your fingers, he’d tear his rib cage open and present his heart to you. Is he not worthy of your chastity?

His aching tip finally probes at your creamed lips, rising you from the meadows of your dreams, tainting the last bits of innocence. With every hazy blink, the sleep slips from under your eyelashes, welcoming every torturous inch. And all you want to say, all you can muster is,

Ani, please…

Layla's note || I hope this was not too dusty after months of not writing, I've missed Anakin dearly. If you enjoyed, please consider helping me take care of my senior puppy here in my Ko-Fi. Vet bills are messy this month so anything makes a difference :) My content and requesting will always be free, this is just me looking for a little help out here too 🤍