#she cannot remove it her hands are short

[sue-me-wright]

New lings just dropped, also full of crime

Made my ocs from a lil rp server I'm in heehoo

You know how I've been "working" on a Ling Picrew, well, it's been several months and I have had no motivation to continue it.

I sincerely do wish to finish, but I haven't been "doing okay" for a while, so I will let you guys play with what I had done for the longest time.

https://picrew.me/secret_image_maker/oSWSmODJ2obebfnq

Please enjoy and, if anything, leave suggestions or share your little creature.

[gloomwitchwrites]

I loved the recent "calling your husband boyfriend on purpose" imagine....what about...

Calling your boyfriend husband on ACCIDENT? 😍🤭

By the time that I'm actually getting around to this, "calling your husband boyfriend on purpose" is now no longer recent. Oops! Sorry! (If you want to read that imagine you can find it here.) But is it really an accident? I feel like it could honestly be both, but the accident factor would make the whole thing so much cuter!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): fluff, brief alcohol, suggestive themes, established relationship

Word Count: 800

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Can you help me, John?”

“Yeah, love. Give me a minute.”

The counter top is covered in groceries. It’s the first big day in the new apartment with John. The two of you have been dating for a few years now, but this is the first time you’ve properly lived together.

John comes around the corner in nothing but a pair of shorts. He’s a bit sweaty from building furniture.

“There’s ice cream. Don’t want it to melt.”

“Course.” He gives you a quick kiss before digging through the bags, removing items as he goes.

The two of you work seamlessly, putting away all the groceries quickly.

“Give me a kiss.”

John grins, and goes in for a tooth-achingly sweet one.

“Thanks, hubby.”

The word is out without thought. You don’t even realize you’ve said it until John blinks, a bit startled.

“Hubby?”

You don’t know what to say. You’re staring at him, a bit flustered.

But John smiles. He leans in, stealing another kiss. “You want to marry me?”

“Do you want to marry me?” you counter.

“You proposing?” teases John.

“Stop answering my question with a question.”

John chuckles and pulls you close. “Wifey sounds good on you.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“The husband will love this!”

Husband slips out naturally, as if you and Kyle have always been together. The two of you have been dating for years, but there is no marriage. There isn’t even an engagement. But Kyle isn’t around to hear the slip up—at least, you don’t think so.

The store assistant smiles. “Happy to help,” she says brightly before walking away.

You exhale slowly, and turn around, nearly smacking into Kyle.

“Holy shit,” you say, placing your hand on your chest. “You startled me.”

Kyle has a smirk on his face with arms crossed over his chest. “Did I hear you correctly?”

“That I swore?” you ask, perplexed.

“No,” he laughs. “You called me your husband.”

Oh shit.

“You heard that?”

Kyle leans in as if he’s about to tell you a secret. “I did.”

“And?” you prompt, trying to brush this off as nothing.

Kyle shrugs. “Think I like it.”

You blink. “You like it.”

Kyle glances around but there isn’t anyone nearby. He takes a step into your space, lowering his head as if to kiss you. “Say it again.”

You lick your lips. “Husband.”

“Again.”

“Husband.”

Kyle closes the distance, stealing a kiss.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Across the pub, your boyfriend is ordering drinks at the bar.

The two of you are enjoying a free weekend. They are few since Simon is always working—always off on some mission.

What isn’t all that nice is the woman talking to Simon at the bar. He’s politely ignoring her, but she clearly cannot take a hint. She’s smiling at Simon like she wants to climb him. Plus, you’re feeling bold. You have a few drinks in you at this point. The liquor is hot. It is poison.

And you’re ready to strike. Show some fangs.

You stride toward the bar, shoving yourself between the woman and Simon. Wrapping your arms around Simon’s waist, you snuggle up to him.

“Hello, husband,” you croon.

Simon’s mouth quirks with amusement as the woman behind you snorts and makes a flippant remark.

Going up on your toes, you reach for a kiss, and Simon obliges. It is slow. Wet. Way too intimate for such a public setting. You kiss him like you’re starved.

When the two of you part, the woman is gone.

Simon’s hand dives, grabbing your ass in a possessive hold. “Husband?”

“It slipped.”

“Sure it did, love,” laughs Simon.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“This is John. My husband.”

Husband.

The word slips out and you’re not able to draw it back. You can’t correct yourself. Not in front of your peers. You’ve fumbled this completely.

Johnny’s eyebrows rise toward his hairline, his gaze pointed as he glances at you. But he doesn’t correct you either, and you decide to roll with it.

“That’s lovely,” replies your boss. “How long have you two been married?”

This is a new job. It’s the first company party you’re attending, and bringing a plus one is encouraged.

But you’re not able to answer. Johnny steps up and takes the lead.

“Newly,” he says, grinning like it’s true.

Your boss laughs. “That accent! My goodness. Scottish?”

“Aye. Born and bred.”

“How lovely.”

Johnny inclines his head. His hand delicately grabs your arm, pulling you in. “Pleasure meeting you.”

The two of you move on, but Johnny takes a turn, drawing you to the side, his head lowered.

“Husband?” he asks with a cheeky grin.

“It slipped out,” you mutter.

“Your coworkers are gonna think you’re a married woman.”

“I know.”

“Should make it official,” shrugs Johnny.

“What?”

He lightly bumps your shoulder with his own. “You heard me.”

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@sapphichotmess @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @ninman82

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @statixx-x @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @kadeeesworld @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky

@suhmie @jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@pearljamislife @ash-tarte @eternallyvenus @gingergirl06 @arrozyfrijoles23

[wtfaniii]

Letters of destiny

● Summary: You entered the games for a reason, to pay for your husband's chemotherapy, there you meet someone who has a story quite similar to yours

● Note: This language is not my original language but I hope you like this one shot, I am open to recommendations and constructive criticism! <3

● Warning: Nothing, it's just a bit short since I'm not used to writing through this medium yet, but I hope you like it.

You didn't want to die, you had a man at home who adored you and was worried about you and you hoped to arrive with lots of money and a future resolved but the timer of the games only went backwards and you still couldn't find a group to join.

The carousel game had never been your strong suit, socializing was not your role but it was that or die, a group of 7 players and you were still standing there looking in all directions not knowing what to do until you felt someone pull your arm and in the blink of an eye you were in a compartment with 6 other people.

"Thank you..." The girl murmured, releasing the air she hadn't realized she had trapped in her lungs.

"It's nothing" answered player 456 also with accelerated breathing and taking gasps of air while he rested his hands on his knees, when the shots and screams were heard he looked through the half-open space of the door with sadness. You had already seen him, he was the one who guided them in the first game of green light and red light, the one who says he has already participated and won, maybe he tried to persuade people to withdraw from these games but he only encouraged you, it means that there is a chance to win.

"Thank you..." The young woman repeated, giving a slight bow to which he turned to look at her, confused, as did the rest of those who were there. "You motivated me to continue in these games."

You felt another look on you, only this one was full of curiosity and intensity. Without knowing it, you had said the same words as another person, only this time they were sincere.

"Are you crazy, women?" Another man shouted next to him, one with the number 390 "If what we want is for these games to end!"

You just stayed quiet with your eyes open, when your gaze moved towards the one who kept looking at you, you met with an intense and serious look, it made you shrink in your place just a little.

The door opened again and they all left together, happy to have been able to save their lives once again.

You were about to leave but before you could, one of them pulled you over with his arm around your shoulders with great confidence and shouted victoriously. "If we change her mind, we'll have another point in our favor!" he exclaimed, the number 388, pointing at the blue circle on your chest. "I don't understand."

"In the next vote, we want these games to end" said 456.

You remained silent again, not knowing what to answer. You didn't want to leave, or at least not yet. You wanted to gather more than enough money for your husband. Without realizing it, the same look as before fell on you.

[...]

There was a certain tension in the room, the participants had not yet voted but it was clear that the results would be almost even.

"My husband... has stage three lung cancer..." the woman murmured with her eyes downcast. "The doctors say that he can be cured, they would only remove the cancerous tumor but he would have to undergo several consultations and therapies that we cannot afford." The players surrounding her looked at her with pity and empathy. "I have already sold... many of our belongings, I have double shifts at work, I even mortgaged my house but it is not enough... and if I do not get enough money I will lose everything..." She did not even notice when the tears fell from her eyes without stopping.

It was horrible, most of them had debts but she would be left on the street and a widow if she did not get what she needed.

In-ho watched her silently as he bit his inner right cheek, the situation she was going through was not very different from the one he experienced, he knew that feeling of helplessness, of wanting to scream to the world how much he hated it for those cards of destiny "Does your husband know you came here?" he asked softly walking towards her to sit next to her.

She shook her head softly, wiping her tears with the sleeve of his jacket. "I just told him that I had found a way to get a lot of money." Now, that was cruel, even if she didn't achieve his goal and died on the way, her husband would think that she had abandoned him, along with his debts. "I want to go back home," she said after a few seconds of silence. "I think it's time to end this." She would vote to leave. The money they had so far was still not the amount they required, but it would be very helpful.

"You will get out of here," 001 said, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving her a slight closed-lip smile.

It was strange to feel that comforting and warm feeling from a stranger, but she was grateful for it. They say that eyes say more than words, and the look he gave her was one of genuine empathy.

As if he understood her in her current state of life.

"We'll get out of here," 456 now assured her with a nod.

Her knew them very little but without much hesitation her trusted them, even when Gi-hun told them about his plan on how to confront the guards and reach the people who led these games she agreed to help them, she needed the prize but not at the cost of more innocent deaths.

However, In-ho was not very happy about her following them, from the little he had read about her in her file he knew that she didn't hurt a fly, it would be useless to take her. Besides, the time to play in the yard was over, it was time to return to the command where he belonged and he didn't want the girl to be involved in this. But unfortunately for him he had no other option but to say "After you" as they left there being guided by the guard.

He was supposed to keep control over his emotions but it was inevitable, when he realized she was already too deep in his mind to let her die.

It was as if he had a chance to help his past self, that poor man who fell into misery being reflected by the young woman inexperienced in weapons who only sought to keep the love of her life alive.

It was an ironic and cruel letter from his destiny.

[moonstruckme]

Hi!! Could you do a Bodyguard!James Potter x reader where he is guarding her during a high profile event and something happens? With a bit of angst to fluff? If you’re comfortable of course! I hope you have a wonderful day, i’m new to your page and ADORED your bodyguard james. <3

Thanks for requesting lovely <3

cw: guns, shooting

bodyguard!James x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You shift your stance a bit and have to bite down on a whimper. 

“I’m going to have to throw these shoes out after this,” you mutter to James. “I’m pretty sure there’s blood pooling around my toes.” 

“You wanna take them off?” he murmurs back, lips barely moving as he keeps his face in a mask of businesslike impassivity. 

You sigh. “I wish.” 

“You could. Just step out of them, no one’s looking over here.” 

It’s true. Every camera in the chamber is pointed to where your mom stands on the podium, her right hand raised as she takes her oath. As much as you hate coming to these things, you can’t ignore the kernel of pride shining behind your sternum. She’s waited so long for this day, dealt with so much opposition, and now she’s finally going to be able to enact some real change. You can keep up appearances for her. 

“I’d better not risk it,” you tell James. “With my luck, the second I do—” 

You’re on the ground before you even register the sound of glass shattering. James’ grip on your shoulder is harsh, almost painful, but the noise that follows has enough adrenaline spiking your bloodstream to forget about that. The loud, rapid popping of gunfire fills the chamber. 

James’ hand moves to clasp around your elbow, but you tear away from him, headed in the opposite direction. The podium is empty. Where’s your mom? Did they get her already? Is she hurt? Did she—

You’re not fast enough to outpace James, definitely not limping around in your heels, and he gets an arm around your waist, hauling you away from the center aisle. You can’t tell where the gunfire is coming from—who has the guns?—but he pushes your head down before you can look. A low buzzing burrows into your ears. You try again to go to where you last saw your mom, but James yanks you back to his side, a cutting “Stop” hissing past his lips. Any other time, a tone like that would have you stilling like a frightened bunny, but you know he’s not the danger here. 

When you don’t listen, he lifts you off the ground. The crowd is swarming, frantic and disorganized, but James maneuvers through it expertly, running down the hall until he finds an unlocked door. The bathroom door swings open for you, and James sets you down quickly, locking it before you have a second to recover. 

You lunge for the door anyway, only for twin bands to wrap around your middle. They pin your arms to your sides and press you securely to James’ front. 

“Stop. Stop it.” His tone is as hard as his grip, dispassionate to your struggling. “You cannot fight me when you’re in danger, understand?” 

“They’re not here for me,” you plead. Your voice is scratchy with desperation. 

“No, but I am. I’m here for you.” His hold tightens, but now it’s less a restraint than a comfort. You can feel his heavy breaths tickling past your ear. “Your mom has her own detail, okay? She made it out before we did, they probably have her somewhere safe.” 

Now you can hear your breathing too. Short, stilted pants that wheeze in and out of you. You think you might be shaking. 

“That’s enough,” James says gently, starting to lower you both to the ground. Your knees give easily, relinquishing your weight to his hold until he settles you both on the tiled floor. “That’s enough, alright? Can I let you go now?” 

You’re not sure you want him to anymore, but you nod. He slips out from behind you, checking the lock on the bathroom door and then removing his gun from the holster at his hip. The sight of it makes your trembling worsen. He checks something with it while murmuring to the people on the other end of his earpiece, convoluted jargon you’ve long since ceased paying attention to. 

“She’s fine,” he says after a minute. “Your mom. They got her into an office, and now we’re all just waiting for security to clear the building before we can go.” 

You drop your head to your knees, relief like a tidal wave washing over you. You hear James’ footsteps move back toward you before his big hand lands on your head. It smooths down your hair as he squats next to you. When you glance at his gun balanced on his knee, he catches the look. 

“I have to keep this out for now,” he says, looking you in your eyes like he’s making a promise, “but the safety’s staying on unless someone tries to come in here. Okay?” 

“Yeah.” You nod, still trying to get your breathing under control. 

James strokes your head again, his touch weighty and reassuring. The noise outside of the bathroom seems to be lessening, but you’re not sure how much sound is blocked by the door. There could be shooting still happening just past it, people hurt or dying in the halls. 

“I’m sorry for fighting you so hard,” you say quietly. 

James blows out a breath. “I get it,” he admits. “In those situations, it’s natural to freak out and head toward the person you want to keep safe.” He flashes you a little smile. “I’m lucky it’s already my job to do that.” You grimace back, but his expression grows serious again when he says, “You just have to keep your head, though, you know? The whole reason you and your mom have protection is to make sure someone else is already looking out for you. You don’t need to worry about her, you just need to trust me.” 

You look at him. His body is still taut, ready for a fight if one comes to him, but his expression is gentle. It’s easy to forget it’s his job to take care of you when he seems to do it so naturally. Caring emanates from James like it’s the core component of his soul. 

“I do trust you,” you tell him. 

His mouth slants, expression unbearably fond. “I know, sweetheart. We’ll work on those instincts, okay? I get that it’s not an easy adjustment to make.” 

“Have you ever had to do that? Run away from the person you cared about the most?” 

He shakes his head. “Like I said, I’m lucky. I always get to run towards you.”

[eclipseiz]

The Gladiator PT.2 18+

Part One

pairing- hanno/lucius x fem! oc 1790 words

(♡ synopsis)- general acacius's daughter became intrigued by the violent gladiator she saw perform in the games and just had to meet him. (lucilla is not her mother)

warnings- p in v, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), fingering

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Sabina quietly moved around the pillars of her home, careful not to make a sound but gave up when she saw Lucilla sitting on the edge of the fountain dipping her fingers into the water.

Sabina walked forward and removed her hood, “I hope you were not waiting for me.”

Lucilla softly gasped and turned to face the young girl. “I didn't see you in your chamber. I waited for your return.” she stood 

Lucilla’s eyes looked watery and Sabina took note of how her hands shook, “What is troubling you?”

The older blonde smoothed out her wrinkly dress and took a deep breath before responding, “That gladiator he did something that made me reminisce of a memory long ago.” she paused and brought her bundle of herbs to her nose smelling for comfort, “It's him Sabina, it's my boy, my Lucius.” she gave a teary smile.

Sabina couldn't believe what she was hearing. The man whom she just had sex with was her step-mothers long lost son. She had heard tales of the boy ever since Marcus married the woman. “And you're sure of this?” she reached for the woman's hands.

“He has those same bright blue eyes I remember and he performed just as his father would have.” she sobbed, “Your father and I have created a plan to free him.” she looked around before continuing, “Marcus shall move into the gladiator quarter with a select group of trusted soldiers.”

The General's daughter took the information in and nodded,  “Sounds of a solid plan.” she backed up taking in all of the information she had received.

“Where did you run off to tonight?” Lucilla asking with furrowed brows.

Sabina bit her cheek, “Ravi asked for my assistance after the games, I didn't want to keep him waiting.”

Lucilla smiled, “I'm sure.” she said in a taunting tone before pinching the girls cheek, “Sleep asks of me, I will see you in the morning.” Bidding the girl a good-night she disappeared into a dark hallway making Sabina let out a relieved sigh, thankful for her not prying.

A short few days later Sabina sat to Lucilla’s right in the colosseum for yet another day of games. She nervously looked at the water containing bloody thirsty sharks.

“Today will be an entertaining game.” Geta smiled proud of his idea, bringing a goblet of wine to his lips

Caracalla’s laugh boomed out, “That it will brother.” his eyes moved behind him to the General's daughter. “Sabina, come sit next to me, keep your emperor company.”

Her eyes shot up to him before moving her eyes to her father who only gave her a silent nod not to disobey the mentally unwell man. “It'll be my honor.” She took the seat next to him and almost immediately he threw an arm around her shoulder bringing her in close. 

The Roman people watched in excitement and nerves as Hanno was announced, coming out on a boat. Sabina sat straight up, curtly clapping in support.

Lucius moved around the back of the boat shouting orders at his men to take the other boat out, fighting his eyes who only seemed to be focused on the emperor's box where a certain woman resided.

Sabina nervously shook her leg as she watched the two boats crash into each other. Ignoring the howling emperor's next to her. Caracalla turned his attention to her and leaned his lips to her ear. “You do not look entertained. Do your emperors not put on a good show for you?” he questioned with fury burning in his gaze.

She fought to roll her eyes, “My features cannot express the astonishment I feel.” she answered in a clipped, sarcastic tone..

Before she could blink Caracalla landed a sharp slap to her cheek, “Do not answer in such a tone!” Behind them Lucila gasped while Marcus gripped his chair tighter.

Lucius heard the commotion and looked up to see the red mark now plastered on Sabina and the emperor yelling in her face. His blood began to boil and before he knew it he grabbed the bow in front of him and aimed his shot at the pale emperor, letting go of the arrow.

Sabina watched as a stray arrow shot into the booth, planting itself into the wood pillar, mere inches from Caracalla’s head, “PRAETORIANS!” Geta yelled for his guard who swarmed into the booth.

The girl looked towards the center of the ring and saw the gladiator throwing the bow back down before giving her a nod and returning to fighting.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

After sneaking out of the panicked crowd Sabina made her way to the holding cells. She entered and made it to stand in front of Ravi, “May you?” she gestured to the locked cell which contained her gladiator

The older man gave her a sly smile, “To what does he owe your company.” He got up and maneuvered his keys to the correct one and pushed it into the hole on the door.

Sabina only blushed and gave him a curt nod after he had opened the door for her. Lucius sat at his desk, back to her. She didn't say anything until she heard the door lock being her. 

“Marvelous job today, almost assassinating the emperor was by far the best part.” she joked and put her hands on his shoulders before moving them to his chest making him lean his toned back into her legs.

Lucius grunted, “He should not have put his hands on you in the matter in which he did.” He turned his head to face her looking at the red mark that only had seemed to get worse. 

“All is well, it'll fade.” Sabina moved around him to place herself in his lap, “Should I call you Hanno or Lucius?”

The gladiator let out an airy laugh rubbing his eyes. Hearing his birth given name come from her lips felt right. “Let's try Lucius out, hm?” Suddenly without warning he swung Sabina’s leg over his lap and had her straddling him.

The girl softly gasped, holding his shoulders for support. “Eager are we?” she joked, lightly grinding on his hardening cock.

“You looked like a goddess sitting up there. I could hardly contain myself.” he gritted his teeth and pulled her closer to him by her waist. “What do you want my beautiful girl?”

Sabina softly gasped, “Your mouth, fingers, anything please.”

Lucius chuckled, “How about both.” He lifted her up with ease onto the desk and spread her legs open before him revealing her bare cunt, dripping with arousal. “You came bare?” he darkly asked, swiping his fingers over the wet mess.

“Unneeded layers.” she answered with hooded eyes, arms propped up behind her to see what intend to do.

The gladiator hummed and lowered his lips to pamper kisses along her thigh, making her let out a soft groan. “Who do you belong to Sabina? Say it.”

“You Lucius, only you.” she groaned, letting her head roll back.

His lips continued their fiery trail up to her cunt, bringing his fingers to toy with her entrance. Her clit swollen and thumming with need. He pushed one finger slowly in and began to pump it while he took her bud into his mouth softly sucking it. Sabina’s fingers made their way to his head where she gripped his hair for dear life. Arousal gushed out of her, dripping from his finger to his wrist before falling onto the desk under her. “Ready for another?” he questioned in a teasing tone.

She covered her mouth and nodded, not trusting herself to stay quiet with the way he was playing with her. Lucius added another finger curling them into her and attaching his mouth to her puffy clit, savoring the flavor. She tried closing her legs at the overwhelming pressure building up but his strong rough arms held them agaisnt the wood.

Just as she was about to let go he pulled away with a smirk, “As i've said..” he trailed off and stood getting his hard cock from under his loincloth giving it a few pumps, “You shall only come on my cock.” Grabbing her thighs he pulled her to the edge of the desk and lined up with her entrance and pushed in with one single thrust, covering Sabinas mouth simultaneously. Her legs wrapped around his middle while his other hand went to her neck adding pressure to it.

She moaned agaisnt his hand, nails raking down his musical arms, trailing the veins that lined them lie threads, “You like being fucked like a whore? My personal whore who congratulates me after a fight…” He looked down where he thrusted in and out of her and watched her juiced coat his pubic area. “Want to cum?” she nodded feverishly, eyes locked onto him.

He let go of her neck and rubbed her clit with his thumb, "Cum on my cock beautiful, you can do it.” she squeezed him with vice grip making him spill deep into her. He took a moment to catch his breath before pulling out of her with a wince. 

Sabina held the hand he had over her mouth, kissing it before he pulled it back. “You continue to surprise me with your skills.” she said breathlessly sitting up.

Lucius smiled and stepped between her legs, cradling her face. “When I find myself to be free of this place…I'd like you to run with me. Anywhere you'd like.” 

Her jaw dropped a little before regaining her composure, “My whole life is planted in Rome. To leave would be betraying my family. I cannot leave my father and Lucilla to fend for themselves.” she watched this disappointment flood his face.

He nodded, “I understand.”

Suddenly Ravi came to the cell door and hit it lightly with the key, “Something has happened Sabina you need to go now!” he whispered harshly.

The pair shared a look before she stood and walked out of the cell, watching as Ravi locked Lucius back in. “The plan?” 

Ravi gave her a grave look, “Your father and his men were blitz attacked. He was caught…Lucilla as well from what the whispers have said.” 

Sabina gasped and the gladiator behind the cell door gripped the bars, “What does that mean, what are you both whispering of?”

She rushed to the door and wrapped her hands around his, “I'm afraid something horrible has occurred I have to go.” she kissed him before rushing out of the chamber, pulling her hood up.

Lucius watched as she ran before turning to Ravi with a questioning gaze.

The doctor kept his head down, “I suggest you sleep Lucius. You will need it for what the morning brings.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

part 3?

Reblog and Like ♡

also just saw the movie for a 3rd time…

[wbbwife]

Kind Of Caught

paring: kate martin x fem!reader

synopsis: reader and kate kind of get caught by jada

warning(s): smut (MINORS DNI)

word count: 731

“Baby hold on, there are other people in the apartment right now.” I say as Kate tries to take off my shorts. “It’s fine, you just have to be quiet and-“

“Me and you both know I cannot be quiet if I tried” I say. “Cmon baby I missed you so much since I was on the road, and I want to make up for lost time.” Says Kate as she looks up at me while kissing the inside of my thighs which makes my insides warm. “I swear this is the only time you’re ever going to convince me to do this.” She smirks proudly and bunches my panties and shorts together to pull them down. As soon as they come off my legs automatically spread.

“You’re so wet for me beautiful, I love it.” Kate says admiring my cunt. “Of course I am.” My breath picks up, anticipating the pleasure. “Just be quiet for me, I promise it’ll be worth it.” She takes a long lick, following up with a kiss to my bundle of nerves. “You taste so good my love, I wish I could eat you forever.” “I wish you would shut up and get to it before I change my mind.” “That’s how it is? Bet”

Kate immediately swirls her tongue around my clit, pushing two of her fingers into my cunt hastily, as I cry out.

“Fuckk, baby wait.” I plead; she laughs into my cunt, the vibrations intensifying the feeling. Kate smacks my thigh “You were talking all that shit can’t take it? Shut up before someone hears you.” “I’m sorry.” I choke out.

I close my eyes trying to focus on not alarming the people outside of her room. Fingers pumping in out my cunt, while her thumb rubs my clit skillfully. I feel a hand wrap around my throat feverishly. I pop open my eyes to see Kate giving me a warning glare. “You better keep your eyes open while I fuck you baby.”

I whimper, as tears start to fall from my face. “Pleaseee sss-loww down.” She smirks pausing her movement. “Whatever you want sweetheart.” Kate starts kissing my stomach slowly, runching my shirt up and taking it off of me. “I could never get tired of this view.” I blush hard, as I turn into the pillow next to me. “Let me see you beautiful.” Hovering over me, she turns my head to her and kisses me like she hasn’t seen me in months. I rub up and down her toned stomach, trying to tug her sweats down. She stops my hand. “I want this to be about you first love.” I mutter an “ok” letting my hand slip into her hair.

Kate bends down sucking on my neck, leaving a mark I know that’s going to be there for days. She kisses her way down to my breasts and swirls her tongue around my nipple needily, going back and forth between my breasts ensuring both get attention.

“Omggg Kate, that feels sooo good”

“Say my name again.” She whispers into my ear.

“Kateeee-“ A knock sounds at the door.

My whole body freezes but Kate is unbothered as she stuffs a finger into my cunt.

“Kate can I have my computer charger back, my MacBooks dying.” Jade says, wrestling with the door knob. “Why is the door locked?” She questions.

“Hold on give me a minute.” Kate shouts at the door, while removing her finger from inside me.

She opens her top drawer taking out a vibrator, setting it on my clit. I smack a hand over my mouth as waves of pleasure hit me fast.

“I’ll be back baby, be quiet” she says kissing my cheek.

Kate gets off the bed bending down to unplug Jades charger from the socket, rolling it up neatly. She walks over to the door, unlocking it and cracking it slightly so my whole body wasn’t visible, only my foot.

“Here you go” she says handing Jade her charger.

“Thanks but why was the door locked?”

Kate looks back at me smirking, “No reason.”

“Oh hell no, are you guys fucking in there.” Shouts Jade.

Kate laughs locking the door again, then walking back to me.

“Good girl, you didn’t make any noise, you deserve a reward.” She takes the vibrator off my clit and starts eating me out like she’s been starving.

[flkwh0re]

Sweetest Bunny

Paring: Wanda Maximoff x Fem! Reader

Warnings: R wears bunny ears and a tail so pet playish (??), Mommy kink (W), Thigh riding, Fingering, Oral, Strap-on usage (W and R giving), Wanda calls R bunny a lot, Overstimulation, Maybe dubcon? I’m not sure if some bits would classify this as that

Word Count: 1.1k

A/n: This fic is easter esque but in no way religious so if that’s something that bothers you, you are able to read this :3 enjoy!

"Please just wear it, for me?" Wanda plead with a faux pout. She had been asking you to wear these little bunny ears she had purchased from the store, along with the matching clip-on tail. You weren't sure why she was so persistent about you wearing them, neither of you had ever cared about easter to partake in anything slightly related to it.

"Ugh fine, but not for long." You finally agreed, making Wanda squeal. Little did you know her plans to corrupt your innocent self.

She slipped the headband onto your head, fixing any awkwardly placed hairs. Her hands firmly grasped your waist and spun you around. Your cheeks heated up as Wanda fumbled around with your pants, trying to clip the tail on.

Once she'd finally attached it to you, she spun you back around and stepped back to admire you. "Oh what a sweet sweet bunny you are!! Mommy cannot wait to ruin you." She squeezed at your side, you just stared at her dumbfounded. "Oh don't look so dumb bunny, you had to see this coming from a mile away!"

She hummed and pulled you into her, "You didn't know, did you bunny?" You shook your head in a no formation, causing Wanda to smile. "You're just so cute bunny! Let mommy show just how cute you are."

Her lips soft pressed against yours, they're soft an warm on your own. Her hands slide along your hips, nimble fingers pushing softly against the fabric of your shorts. "Your lips taste to good bunny, I wonder if your pussy taste even better." Her words sent an instant gush of arousal to your core, and a weak whine from your throat.

"Oh that pretty little whine bunny! Do it again for mommy." Wanda exclaimed with a squeal in her tone, her knee pushing against your pussy hoping to elicit more noises from you.

"C'mon bunny, bounce your little hips. Grind your pussy on my thigh." Soon Wanda had you a whiney mess for her. Your clothes discarded on the floor, the bunny ears still resting in your head. Your slick soaked pussy rutting against Wanda's thigh desperately trying to cum.

She get you close to your orgasm, then stop your movements followed by her thrusting her fingers into your cunt. Swapping back and forth just getting you all riled up. "P-please Mommy, 'm gonna cum please let me." You whimpered as pretty tears pricked in the corners of your eyes.

"Go on bunny, cum for momma." Intense pleasure washed through your bones as you came on her fingers. "What a good little bunny!" She praised while pressing a kiss against your lips, the cum she had just cleaned from her fingers sticking to your lips.

"Let me clean up your pretty pussy, bunny." You whined as she pushed you to lay on your back. "Too sensitive." Wanda scoffed at your whining. Not listening to your pleas, she lapped at your soaked pussy. Her tongue licking you clean.

Wanda scooped you into her arms, carrying you to her room. She gently layer your weaker body down on the plush bed, then wandered off to her closet. “Put this on and it’ll be right back, bunny.”

What she handed you was a fairly large sized strap-on, which you slipped onto your hips and adjusted it to your body. Wanda returned with your clothes in one hand, the bunny tail in the other. Your clothes were tossed into the corner of her room, followed by her clothes.

You stood by, shyly watching her remove her clothes. You admired every inch of her body, something you’d wanted to do for so long. The curve of her hips, the perk of her breast, her toned stomach. You couldn’t look away, until she called you out.

“It’s okay bunny, I like when you look at me. You’re always looking at me, aren’t you?” You nod, a satisfied chuckle left her lips. She attached the little tail to the harness that was clad to your hips. “There we go.” She smiled, the pulled you over to the bed.

Wanda laid back onto the bed, pulling you on top of her. “You get to fuck mommy now, okay bunny?” You couldn’t help but rut your hips, the faux cock grazing her slit. She grabbed the silicone member to her dripping hole, and demanded you to move.

You slipped the cock into her, a moan coming from her sending throbbing pleasure to your cunt. “Fuck baby, move your hits just like that- fuck! Go faster for me bunny!” She groaned, your hips snapping into her. Trying your best to make your mommy cum, she love your determination so much.

“Suck on mommy’s tits bunny, cmon.” Your lips wrapped around her perky pink nipples, your free hand pinching at the other one. Wanda’s hand cradled the back of your head as you sucked. “Fuck! Keep fucking into your mommy like that bunny, what a good little bunny you are.” Your final thrust grew sloppy as you brought her to her orgasm.

Your now very weak body fell forward onto Wanda’s, her hand gently pushed your hair out of your face. “You did so good for me bunny, let me reward you one more time.” You whined, “No mommy- ‘m really tired.” Your incoherent begs fell onto deaf ears as she flipped you to your back.

The harness was now discarded from your hips, but the toy was in Wanda’s hands. She brought it to your lips, slipping the tip of it past your puffy lips. “That’s my good bunny, suck mommy’s cum off the cock. Good bunny!” She praised as you licked the toy clean.

Her fingers ran up and down your thighs, right before settling on your swollen clit. Her fingers ran over the sensitive bud, whimpers coming from you. She removed the toy from your mouth, then it suddenly made contact with your cunt.

The size of it was almost too much for you to bear, the stretch it performed on your abused pussy was detrimental. “There we go bunny, take that big cock like a good bunny.” Wanda’s lips wrapped around your clit, sucking to give you mores stimulation.

It didn’t take much work for Wanda to make you cum. Soft breaths leave your tired lungs as you lay in bliss, Wanda’s hand rubbing comforting circles on your skin. “You okay bunny?” Wanda asked in worry, hoping she hadn’t pushed you too far. “‘m okay, ‘m just sleepy.” She chuckled. “Don’t sleep yet, let me get you cleaned, then we can cuddle up. Sound good?”

Masterlist

[httpsserene]

love your workkkkkkkk 🤍

can i request a smau with carlos or lance and a plus size reader?

𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 - 𝐜𝐬. 𝟓𝟓

summary: from photo shoots to spontaneous vacation changes; carlos loves you loudly. content warning: fluff. plussize!reader. reader is a model. light profanity. attempt at humor. body positive. one negative comment about reader’s body. couples vacation. loverboy carlos sainz jr. getting engaged.  pairing: carlos sainz jr x fem!black!reader (fc: precious lee) genre: smau.

from serene: in honor of carlos signing for...*checks notes* williams!!! currently sobbing about logan as i am a fellow florida born but, i will make sure to support him whether or not he's on the grid next year, or in indycar, or anywhere else < 3. it's a relatively short smau from me but, i hope you all enjoy it the same xxx

⌕ join taglist | requests & feedback | table of contents ↻

twitter • ynmodels

igstory • ynmodels uploaded!

[caption1; lighting check- felt cute might delete later][caption2; please stop threatening to get get me pregnant in my dms (i have a bf)]

carlossainz55: you could have been cute with me in melbourne ⤷ynmodels: i'll let you explain me ghosting my cover shoot to the magazine ⤷carlossainz55: is the love of your life missing you AND his appendix not a good excuse

user1: how many of my kids r u willing to have? ⤷user1: im serious btw haha

user2: bbg 🫦 lemme knock you up (i'm a girl)

user3: shhhhhh don't pretend like you don't want to have 8 kids with me 🤫 ⤷ynmodels: 8 KIDS??? you're blocked LMFAO

instagram • ynmodels • march 25th

liked by carlossainz55, harpersbazaarus, zendaya, and 93,562 others

ynmodels never thought i would be angry about having a cover shoot, but when it means i miss my boyfriend's third race win? i'm enraged‼️so, so, so proud of you, carlos! wish i was there to see you up on that top step! (thank you to harper's bazaar for putting me on the front page 💖)

tagged: harpersbazaarus, dolcegabbana, carlossainz55

view comments

carlossainz55: vamossssssssssssssss mami

➥ ynmodels: ¡VAMOS! 😍😍😍😍😍

carlossainz55: hermosa 🥰

liked by ynmodels

carlossainz55: i'm ordering multiples of this magazine

➥ user4: spectacular, give me 14 of them right now 🤲🏻

user5: i'm no better than a man 😮‍💨

➥ user6: good googly moogly 👀

➥ user7: i dunno if im jealous of her or carlos tbh 😵‍💫

user8: MOTHER 😩

➥ ynmodels: 💅🏾💅🏾💅🏾💅🏾

user9: carlos gets his appendix removed, wins the australian gp, and then gets to go home to a fine ass woman

➥ user10: god may never say that he has favorites but there are signs smh 🤦🏿‍♀️

➥ user11: omm i hope he treats her like the queen she is 🥴

alexandrasaintmleux: don't ask me the color of ANYTHING

➥ charlesleclerc: bebe what are u talking about??? pink is clearly her color 🙄

➥ carlossainz55: the dress is black 😐 @/ynmodels block them.

twitter • ynmodels

instagram • carlossainz55 • runway ⚑

liked by fashionweek, charlesleclerc, lewishamilton, and 2,313,475 others

carlossainz55 off week is fashion week 🚶🏻‍♂️

tagged: ynmodels

view comments

user12: just fell to my knees in the middle of my lecture hall 🧎🏼‍♀️

➥ user13: completely understandable

➥ user14: slammed my head on a table in the middle of the library and got kicked out IJBOLLLLL

user15: are y'all looking for a third ???!!!

➥ carlossainz55: absolutely not 😂

lewishamilton: nice to see you guys off the track ✌🏾

➥ ynmodels: it was! can't wait for nyfw with you 🤗🤗

➥ user16: i know carlos curled up into the fetal position absolutely tweaking rn 💀

➥ user17: if lewis hamilton took my girl i wouldn't even be mad about it 🤷🏾‍♂️

user18: thicker than a bowl of oatmeal 🤤

➥ user19: double cheeked up on a thursday afternoon 😣

➥ user20: she has no business walking around like that

➥ user18: like i'm not going to salivate like a dog 🦮

user21: she's what the greek godddesses wished they looked like

➥ ynmodels: this is the best compliment about my body i've ever received 🥹

user22: i know carlos CANNOT handle allat 😂

➥ carlossainz55: i have two hands for a reason.

➥ ynmodels: i'm a healthy handful what can i say 😚

imessage • carlos -> yn

instagram • ynmodels • en vogue ⚑

liked by voguemagazine, carlossainz55, jeanpaulgaultier, and 1,994,320 others

ynmodels manifested this very achievement! so honored to be on the cover of vogue AND to do it wearing louis vuitton and chanel; only up from here < 333

tagged: voguemagazine, chanelofficial, louisvuitton

view comments

landonorris: VOGUEEEEEEE ⁉️⁉️

➥ ynmodels: VOGUEEEEEEE LANDOOOO

➥ landonorris: nobody has done it better 😌

➥ ynmodels: ate them for breakfast 😋

➥ user23: literally.

➥ landonorris: don't do too much now @/user23

➥ ynmodels: no bc i'm wondering who TF asked u @/user23

carlossainz55: mi amor, i think i'm crying ☹️

➥ ynmodels: don't cry because i'll cry

➥ carlossainz55: i'm weak my eyes are watering 🥹

➥ ynmodels: you absolutely softy STOP!!!

➥ ynmodels: you're gonna make me ruin my makeup 😣😖

franciscacgomes: OMFGGGGGGG 🤩

➥ ynmodels: i knowwwwwwww

➥ alexandrasaintmleux: 💛💛💛💛

➥ lilymhe: i'm getting this edition framed 💯

voguemagazine: same time next year?

➥ carlossainz55: YES !!!

➥ ynmodels: i'd be honored 😲

➥ user24: where's her vogue video on youtube? I NEED IT

chanelofficial: kiss marks on the cover already 💋

➥ louisvuitton: with hearts drawn on it too 💓

➥ ynmodels: thank you both so much 🫂🫂🫂

lewishamilton: 🫡

zendaya: passed out when i saw this! about time girllll 🥵

➥ ynmodels: yes ma'ammmmmm 😤

igstory • ynmodels uploaded!

[caption1; sorry girls, not giving these away :) a few presents from carlos][caption2; might let him hit tonight ngl]

user25: if he wanted to he would energy>>>>>

user26: shit tell him to save some flowers for the rest of us 😧 user26: where are you even going to put all of those??? ⤷ynmodels: i keep them around the house, and dry all the flowers to keep them! ⤷ynmodels: nobody's ever gotten me flowers before him so i cherish each and every petal 🤭

pierregasly: take that first photo down before kika sees it pls 🙏🏻 ⤷ynmodels: oh did you say ft kika as i open every bag? and smell every rose? i'd be happy too pierre 🙃

carlossainz55: it's really not enough to show how much i'm proud of you 🙂‍↔️ ⤷ynmodels: carlos please ⤷ynmodels: i don't need anything besides you

instagram • carlossainz55 • somewhere in greece ⚑

liked by marcmarquez93, landonorris, carlossainzofficial, and 2,277,921 others

carlossainz55 escapada tranquila

tagged: ynmodels

view comments

user27: if you don't sit down in that damn car 🤬

➥ ynmodels: carlos told me to stand! yell at him not me ✋🏾

➥ user28: oh so if carlos jumps off a bridge you would too?

➥ ynmodels: expeditiously 😤 i'd backflip off it too 🤸🏾‍♀️

user29: why do we only speak about carlos' gf when this is his post 🤨

➥ user30: “carlos’ gf” don’t be disrespectful. she has a name ☺️

➥ user31: cause she's barbie! and he's just ken 😇 hope that helps 🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️

landonorris: having fun carlos 😃

➥ carlossainz55: cabron please shut up

➥ landonorris: damn a man can't ask if his friend is having a nice time on vacation 😞

charlesleclerc: everything going to plan?

➥ ynmodels: there's a plan?

➥ user32: what plan???

➥ carlossainz55: my plan to take you to see dolphins, is what he's talking about 😅

➥ ynmodels: ooooooh wait let me plug in my camera battery!

➥ user32: i wanna see dolphins :(

maxverstappen: don't chicken out mate 😿

➥ oscarpiastri: i will never let you live that down 😈

➥ ynmodels: why are we bullying my boyfriend?

➥ carlossainz55: i have no idea what they're talking about

user33: first photo could pass as professional ngl

➥ ynmodels: i said the same thing!

➥ user34: carlos takes the best photos of her hand down

➥ user35: best photos of the best model 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽

twitter • ynmodels

instagram • ynmodels • WE'RE GETTING MARRIED ⚑

liked by lilymhe, scuderiaferrari, charlesleclerc, and 1,483,294 others

ynmodels im cryiubg omg we're emgagedddd i didn't get to the bottom of shit I LOVE LOVE LPVE LOVE LVE LOVE LOVE YOU CARLOS SAINZ JR 💍💍💍💍💍

tagged: carlossainz55

carlossainz55: te amo mas que nada en el mundo

➥ ynmodels: i can't believe this still

➥ carlossainz55: i'll remind you every day 🥰

landonorris: congratsss 🥹🥹🥹

louisvuitton: stunned! but not surprised 😌

fransicacgomes: oh my god! i knew something shifted!!!!

jeanpaulgaultier: please allow me to go wedding dress shopping with you 😅

➥ ynmodels: i was thinking abou asking you for a custom?

➥ jeanpaulgaultier: i really wanted to hear you ask first, we'll talk soon < 3

charlesleclerc: so happy for you both! almost strangled carlos when he told me that he lost the ring haha 😂

➥ ynmodels: he lost the ring????

➥ carlossainz55: i *misplaced* it for like three minutes and panicked ok

maxverstappen1: can't wait for the wedding 😻

alexandrasaintmleux: im screaminggggg 🤯🤯🤯

voguemagazine: 🥳🥳🥳

lewishamilton: about time carlos!!!

➥ carlossainz55: only took me three attempts 🥴

➥ ynmodels: three???

➥ carlossainz: you make me nervous 🫣

oscarpiastri: congrats!

zendaya: that ring looks HEAVYYYY 😮‍💨🥴

➥ ynmodels: oh you can't miss it baby 🥱👅

harpersbazaarus: oooooh happy for you babes💋💋💋

carlossainzofficial: welcome to the family, officially!

comments on this post have been limited.

© httpsserene 2024

[notjustjavierpena]

Heat

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Many many moons ago (this might be an exaggeration), I wrote a direct message to @undercoverpena about one of her text posts that sent me into a horny spiral. I loved it. You can read the text post here. At lot happened since then, and I bet you all that she must have forgotten or thought I would not finish it, but alas I return from the dead.

Summary: Javier looks so delicious doing hard work under the sun. The kids aren’t home. Heat is not just what the sun gives, it can also be a state of your body.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, clit stim, piv sex, dirty talk, breeding kink, creampie, rough sex, javi p is sweaty and you are horny

Word count: 3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51636391

Heat

It’s a thousand degrees outside.

It’s the beginning of autumn and it’s boiling hot, so warm that one cannot fully enjoy the weather when it makes everything feel crispier. You’ll be damned if you are going to spend the sparse and sacred hours of being childfree inside your house with a pout though, because your father-in-law has the kids after a long period of him being unable to babysit.

One would think that now that your three children are in Abuelo Chucho’s hands, it would mean having a long-awaited, as well as well-deserved, date night with your husband, but Javier has decided to spend the day renovating the back porch in the heat. You haven’t rolled your eyes at him yet, but the urge has been there several times.

You sit on the porch swing, dangling your feet just above the wooden boards that are soon to be removed and replaced. There’s a glass of cold lemonade in your hand, a bee buzzing somewhere nearby. 

Javier is in the shed at the back of the garden. You can hear him move things around, occasionally letting out a swear word moments after something clatters to the floor with a loud bang. 

You sip your lemonade through its straw. The honey bee has found the bush of lavender, and you let your eyes close to listen to the sounds of late summer, the start of fall. The sun dances on your lids, sweat forms at the small of your back just above your shorts and right below your cropped t-shirt.

After a few minutes where you’ve leaned back into the backrest of the porch swing, and nearly fallen asleep, you hear Javier returning. Automatically, your eyes open at hearing him speak. 

“Hey, enjoying yourself?” He has come over to peck your lips. You allow it, holding up the glass of lemonade afterward to watch his lips close around the straw. He takes a long sip whilst his eyes are fixed on yours.

“Gotta stay hydrated if you want to work in this heat,” you note.

“Just gonna be all pretty sitting there and watching me?” He asks after swallowing, and you have to force yourself to look away from the way his Adam's Apple bobs.

“Mh-hm,” you nod without saying much, knowing you’ll break if you try to get an actual sentence out.

“Alright,” he just replies, and you swear you catch some sort of undertone in his voice. He kisses you again, lingering a second too long for you to be indifferent towards it, and then stretches again. A less collected version of you wants to undo his belt right there, but you let him go instead. Not without regret though.

And then he starts working, dragging planks across the soon-naked porch deck, and you start sweating even more at the sight. Even moreso at the grunts he elicits during his labor.

Javier is beautiful underneath the burning sun, sweat-slicked chest hair peeking out from under his grayish shirt that he has unbuttoned at the top. He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows because they cannot go up any further than that, tightening around the beginnings of his biceps and causing your head to swim when you think about those arms around you. 

You allow yourself to ogle him as he is lost in the task. The straw in your lemonade sits in your mouth, your tongue curling around it briefly before you sip to clench your thirst. There’s sweat collecting on Javier’s brow, threatening to drip down, and when it finally does slide down the side of his head, your eyes burn from refraining from blinking as you watch the beads roll down his neck and into the clavicle of it. You press your thighs together.

The gray shirt has darkened in color around his shoulders due to dampness. Whenever Javier turns his back to you, you can see the darker patch has reached his lower back too. Your tongue darts out to lick at nothing around your mouth, and you know that your husband would laugh at you if he saw it.

There’s something dirty about watching the way he brushes slick hair from his forehead. He has knelt down on the deck by now, occasionally on all fours when he reaches for something in front of himself, and when he gets really concentrated, straining his back muscles so much that the shirt starts fighting for its life, he pulls a face that nearly makes you fall off the porch swing. 

You bite your lip, choose your words but none seems to do the job so you settle for something more simple, “Javi.”

“Sí, mi amor?” Javier doesn’t look up. 

You remind yourself that he has talked about redoing the porch since his father agreed to take the kids. You won’t spoil it for him, and you know that a half-finished project with three kids is not an ideal situation for you, so you compose yourself.

“I think I need to get out of the sun for a bit, can I get you some water?” You ask instead of getting on your knees to beg - or more - and then you walk past him. 

“Sure,” he replies as you pass him, and it makes you unable to see the smirk on his face, “Water would be great. Thanks, honey.”

Inside the kitchen, you fill a glass with cold water from the refrigerator. You even get a few ice cubes from the tray in your freezer but instead of dumping them into your husband’s drink, you hold them against your chest with a sigh of relief. Something burns in the pit of your stomach, even more when you return to the porch and hand Javier the glass of water. He hasn’t gotten less enticing; shirt clinging to him, hair sticking to his forehead, a groan as he gets up from the floor.

“Should be done by tomorrow,” he says as he takes the glass from your hand, causing a bolt of electricity to shoot down your spine as your fingers brush. It’s ridiculous since both of you know that he is yours already. 

“Mm-hm,” you watch him gulp down nearly all of his drink. 

And then he does something that you might never recover from; he pours the remaining water over himself in an attempt to cool down. It wets his hair even more, and he runs his thick fingers through it to shake out the excess droplets. 

Time stands still. Your heart hammers in your chest, pulse traveling through your veins until you can feel the throbbing of each heartbeat between your legs. You press your thighs together and let out a whimper of breath. 

“Baby?” You say softly to earn a hm? It feels shameful to meet Javier’s eyes. However when you do, you notice his pupils have dilated in desire, gaze flickering down your body for the shortest time, and you choose to strike. 

You step into Javier’s personal space, hand reaching up to lie on his chest. The soft pads of your fingers rest on his skin where his buttons are undone, and you try to keep a doe-eyed look on your face as you rub his exposed skin gently.

“I was thinking,” you start, trail off.

“Yes?” He drags the word out. You can hear the smirk on his face but it feels too vulnerable to look him in the eye.

“Since we’re alone,” you continue, gaze fixated on the chest hair that is exposed in the heat, “And since there’s air conditioning inside, we could do something together.”

“Do what?” He says like someone who has figured you out. His strong hand comes up to wrap around your wrist, lifting your palm to his mouth. He kisses it. 

Your face burns with embarrassment at the fact that you can barely contain yourself in his presence. That and the fact that it is usually so easy, so why does it feel so difficult to ask for what you want? 

“You know what.”

“I need you to say it, need you to ask for it, mi vida,” he teases and places your hand on the side of his face. He releases a breath at your touch, eyes fluttering closed so you feel brave enough to look up at his face. He leans further into you and looks as ready as you to give in. 

“I need you to touch me,” your voice trembles. Javier just barely shudders at hearing your words, opening his eyes once more to reveal their darkened color. 

“Touch you where?” Javier continues his little game. He mirrors you, touches your face too, “Here?”

“No.”

His hand moves down to brush your neck, “Here then? It must be here.”

“No,” you shake your head, “Please, Javi.”

Javier’s hand slides down your front and settles on the exposed skin of your belly. It causes you to hold your breath. Then it goes down, slips past the elastic band of your shorts and into your damp underwear. You gasp as two of his fingers slide through the wetness between your legs, tips finding your pulsing clit immediately after. Thank God you have hedges around the back garden and thank God that they’re tall enough to keep prying eyes away from the scene that unfolds. 

“What about here? I hope it’s here because I don’t want to stop,” he rubs you off slowly until your legs start to shake underneath you. He works his fingers back and forth, from side to side, one on either side of your clit and something builds and builds and—

You come with a little cry and bury your face in Javier’s chest. Your hand on the side of his face falls down to his shoulder which you grip as you soak your underwear even more, thighs trapping his hand as they clamp together. As your head spins, Javier chuckles out a swear word above you. 

“Never gets old,” he adds and you start giggling. 

After a few seconds of letting you breathe, Javier cups your face and lifts your lips to his own in a kiss that tells you everything you need to know, where you’re heading, which direction. You kiss him back slowly and he licks the inside of your mouth, guides you toward the screen door that leads inside of the house. He has you, you want to say, body and soul. 

“Let me take my beautiful wife to bed,” he begs and you nod repeatedly, mumbling a soft plea. He peppers you with sweet kisses that turn more heated as you get closer to the bedroom door. He toes off his shoes on the way, leaving them forgotten in the hallway along with pieces of clothing that he sheds you and himself of. 

When you’re both naked, sticking together from the sweat that is already shining on your skin, he hoists you up and carries you to the bed effortlessly. You cling to him by wrapping your limbs around his body, and he kneels down on the bed and places you on your back - and then he doesn’t leave but instead melts into you.

“Te deseo mucho, mi amor,” he murmurs and crushes you so heavenly with his weight, connecting his lips to your throat and sucking a purple mark onto your skin. You’ll scold him for it later but right now, you simply whine. His voice vibrates against your neck, “You really thought all I was gonna do was redo the stupid porch? Not do you?”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you bite back with no real hostility, first snorting at his choice of words and then letting out a sigh as he continues tasting your salty skin, “I was ready to go insane, so please fuck me.”

“Dramatic as ever,” he teases and then holds himself up with one arm so he can reach down between your bodies. You bend your legs and let your knees fall out to the sides, breath hitching until it becomes a whimper when the head of Javier’s cock slides through your folds. 

“Please,” you say, and have never been so willing. His cockhead catches on your clit, and your moan comes out a lot louder than intended. You are just about to cover your mouth with your hand when you realize you don’t have to; you can cry and whine and scream all you want to. It makes you yearn for him in a newfound sense and makes you want to scream already. 

“Paciencia, mi amor,” he tuts but still reads your mind. He enters you a moment later, pushing inside easily from the slick that’s already smearing your inner thighs. He groans as you take him, eyes intensely focused on yours whilst stretching your pussy open in a delicious sting. Your hands find his broad shoulders instead of their usual place clamped down on your mouth. You let yourself be noisy as you adjust.

“That’s it,” he slurs, “Be noisy all you want. Good girl.”

When he pulls out and eases back in, the two of you moan in unison. He does it again but follows it up with a breathless laugh when your noises already climb in pitch. 

“I know, baby, I know,” he says soothingly as if you’ve hurt yourself.

But then he shows no mercy and speeds up. His rhythm becomes something else entirely; hard and fast, sending the eyes in your head rolling backward into your skull with a f-fuck dripping from your lips.

Everything is so different. Usually, you breathe so deeply into each other’s bodies, connecting your lips whenever the other is about to give away what the two of you are doing to the rest of the house. Your noses will bump against each other as you are impossibly close to one another, an occasional h-ah escaping your mouth or a low grunt from Javier’s, and if not even a kiss can cover up the noises, Javier’s strong hand or your own will cover your mouth as you cry through the most intense orgasms a man has ever given you.

But now. Oh God. Javier is making you sing until the house is shaking, every noise bouncing off the walls to ricochet right back to your ears. You can hear yourself sound obscene as he makes you come a second time, wanton moans falling from your slack mouth. You tremble, thighs jiggling along his sides as he drives his cock into you to prolong your pleasure. 

“There you are, Christ, you are perfect,” he praises, continues to pound your oversensitive cunt, “Let it all out, baby.”

“More,” you beg, “Don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he grunts. 

You reach down between your legs as best as you can, already thinking of a third orgasm now that your clit is untouched. If not only to shout yourself hoarse.

Javier traps you between his arms, propping himself up on his forearms and sliding his fingers into your hair. He tugs slightly as he rolls his hips, pain erupting from your sensitive follicles and adding to your third high that is building. 

You circle your clit fast, barely able to contain yourself as your cunt goes off into delicious spasm. You think you might actually start crying with how intense it feels, Javier’s cock twitching inside of you whilst he moans too. He buries his face in your shoulder.

“Don’t pull out,” you gasp up at the ceiling, nails creating little crescent marks on the muscles of his broad shoulder, “Javi, oh fuck, come in me. Don’t pull out. Pleasepleaseplease.”

The comment makes Javier pull back a little, raising himself on his elbow to look down at you. His fingers are still in your hair, an occasional moan tumbles out of his mouth as he continues reaching deep inside of you, and his eyes bore into yours. He furrows his brow from being so close, barely able to speak from how ragged his breathing is.

“What—?” He grunts. Any moment now.

“Not ovulating,” you moan back at him, tightening your legs around his waist to punctuate your want, your need. You try meeting his every thrust to encourage his own high, “Please, baby. Need you to come in me.”

“Mierda, estas una chica sucia,” his hips stutter, “You love getting filled to the brim, don’t you?” 

You nod frantically. 

“Just want me to keep knocking your sweet cunt up, huh?” He moans. 

“Yes. Whole fucking football team.”

“C’mere,” he catches your mouth in a heated kiss, nodding slightly, but it turns messy as soon as he gets to orgasm. He whimpers into your mouth when he is just on the brink, and then he gasps as the first rope of come starts to fill you. You let out a big sigh against his mouth for show, taking everything he has to give you whilst he shudders in your arms. 

It takes a moment to calm down. Your arms rest beside your head and your eyes close, trying to calm your heavy breathing. Above you, Javier hisses when he pulls out of you and you can immediately feel his come dripping out of you. 

Javier kisses your exposed chest. He slides his hands up your forearms to eventually hold each of your hands, flopping down onto you again. 

“Ice water,” you say after a while of laying together like this. 

“Hm?” He squeezes your hands.

“Go get some ice water, your wife is boiling.”

“Fine,” he groans. 

When he comes back, he has also brought a towel and you spend the rest of the afternoon trailing ice cubes across your warm skin after cleaning yourself up. It’ll be easier to work in the colder evening sun anyway.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[thirstywoso]

Constellations - Jessie Fleming x Reader 18+

WC: 1k

AN: little short one that I've had in my head for a little bit

Synopsis: After an anniversary date where Jessie proposes, you make love on the kitchen counter

Warnings: fluffy smut 18+, oral, fingering,

Walking into the kitchen after your anniversary date, the same anniversary date that Jessie had asked you to marry her, flicking on the radio, some soft melody coming from the speakers as Jessie enters behind you, snaking her hands around your waist clasping tightly around you as her head meets the crook of your neck.

Gently rocking you in her arms along with the music, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Gently stroking your sides and shuffling you both around the room sweet and slow.

You hum gently along with the music, closing your eyes and soaking up the fact that Jessie was going to be yours forever.

Kissing your shoulder and twisting you in her arms so you come to face her, looking into your eyes you feel the butterflies erupt from your lower stomach all the way up creeping into your chest.

"You have never looked so beautiful to me" she whispers so you could only just hear her. It was true, Jessie had always thought you'd looked heaven sent but there was something about you tonight with that rock on your finger that made her fall more in love.

You continue to sway as she pulls you deeper into her arms. Resting your head on her shoulder as you take everything in, the entire night, the relationship you shared with Jessie and this peaceful moment you were currently sharing.

Carefully picking you up and placing you on the counter, looking at you gently cupping your face as you welcome her soft lips against yours, gentle and almost ghosting scared she would break you.

Holding on to her shoulders you pull yourself back, seeing the soft moonlight flooding through the windows illuminating all of her soft features. "And you have never looked so beautiful to me"

You couldn't believe how lucky you were, gently kissing her again tasting the liquor on her tongue that lightly found its way across your lips.

Slowly removing her shirt and dropping it to the floor before she does the same to you, gently kissing across her neck and shoulders, lips trailing from behind her ear down the column of her neck, along her collar bone.

Jessie returning the favour, the hairs on the back of your neck sticking up and goosebumps coming to life across your skin as she whispered in your ear "I cannot wait to marry you future Mrs Fleming"

"And I cannot wait to be the place you call home for the rest of your life" you whisper back your fingers tracing the freckles along Jessie's chest, gently drawing pictures that you could make out within the ever sprawling blemishes.

Taking hold of your hand Jessie pulls both of them down to hold onto the edge of the counter top, before making her way down and across the valley of your breasts. Gently snaking her hands along your waist again lifting you slightly to kick off any remaining garments.

Her lips return to your body, trailing down your abdomen until she was face to face with your glistening core.

Your mind coming to life as her tongue swooped through your folds, tasting your salty sweet nectar that was already dripping onto the counter.

Your future wife parting your lips with her tongue as she made her way back and forth, top to bottom, flicking and grazing your throbbing bud of nerves.

Bitting your lips so you don't make a sound, she pulls away, blown pupils looking up at you from between your legs. "Don't you fucking dare" she warns as you release your lip, letting out a whimper at the way she touches you.

Gently digging your hands through her hair you pull her up to face you once more, kissing her tasting yourself on her lips, you begin covering her face and neck is delicate kisses sobering up as you taste Jessie's skin which was covered in a slight sheen of sweat.

Grabbing the hair on the back of her neck again, massaging slowly as you push her back down to her knees. Her tongue finding its way through your folds again, this time entering you.

The feeling of her tongue curling inside you sending your head hurtling back, a groan ripping from you throat as you feel her try to catch every drop of your arousal.

The slow rhythm of her tongue curling in and out of your entrance, her furrowed brow in concentration and the small noises of appreciation sends your head spinning.

Soon you feel her middle finger circling your entrance before lightly pushing in, nowhere near enough to make you feel full, before you could voice this though Jessie was adding her ring finger.

Curling up to hit your sweet sport so perfectly. The come here motion with her fingers was really doing it for you as they tapped rhythmically against where you were most sensitive.

She pulls back looking at you, your hands tangled in her hair as you drip down her chin, wasting no time she's back again suckling on your clit in time with the way her fingers curl in you, almost identical to the way your toes curled as she fingered you into oblivion.

Nothing about the act was especially arousing or a turn on, just the thought of Jessie claiming you and being your future wife enough to bring you closer.

The smell of your arousal intoxicating your fiancé, pulling you right to the edge before slowing down knowing that as soon as you released she would miss the way you smelt and tasted.

She knew she would have to get you upstairs and under the sheets if she wanted to make love to you, if she wanted to taste you again, her mind and her thoughts about you never being enough.

Jessie's movements sped up once more curling inside you as she lightly bit down on you clit sending you careening off the edge of oblivion.

Clutching on to her shoulders as you regained your balance, looking into her eyes so dark and twinkly was almost as beautiful as the night sky if not more so.

Carrying you from the counter up to your bedroom Jessie placed you down gently on the edge of the bed vowing to consummate this new step in your relationship.

"I love you Jessie" you whisper looking up at her

"And I you" she says eyes gazing at you intently.

[eccentricwritingbaby]

baby, incoming!

carlos sainz x fem!singer!reader

summary - you and carlos have been married for over a year now and you’ve gone MIA. what could be the reason? new music or a new beginning? maybe both?

fc - emrata

masterlist

-

Liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, yourusername and 345,765 others

scuderiaferrari our boys are ready, tifosi! are you? #MexicoGP

username they are so attractive its crazy

username lets all pray ladies and gents that there will be a ferrari double podium

username now that is a reach but im right there with you

carlossainz55 ready as always!

username do we think yourusername will actually be there… she hasnt been to the last like 4 gp’s 

username idk but im hoping mothers absence is bc of a new album drop

username omggg pleaseee ive been needing her music

charles_leclerc <3

“and you’re sure you’ll be alright while i’m gone, mi amor?” carlos asks you for what feels like the hundredth time as he is packing up his suitcase. you sigh, walking out of your shared closet and placing another one of his clean ferrari polos into the suitcase and then heading to take a seat on the bed next to his luggage.

“quierdo, soy perfecto. i am pregnant, not dying. now please stop worrying about me while your parents as well as mine stay down the street. i am not alone, mi amor, and you are my first call if anything happens,” carlos listens carefully as he forgets about packing momentarily to come stand between your legs that were dangling off the bed, you reach out as he moves closer to hold both of his hands in yours in order for him to receive the message fully, “porfa, i will be fine just like i have been before,”

carlos gives a quick squeeze to your hands and a brief kiss on your forehead as he soaks in the words he was just told, “yo sé, cariño. i just hate missing everything and leaving you while you need me,” the guilty, solemn look on his face is enough for you to quickly stand, remove his hands from yours and wrap your arms tight around him.

he reciprocates the hug quickly with his hands finding your waist with a firm grip, “mi amor you've been there for me constantly and will be there for our baby once they come; besides me being stuck at home will finally give me an excuse to finish out my album so you have no reason to feel guilty,” you slowly loosen your grip in order to look into his warm, inviting eyes yet his hands never leave your waist.

he gives you a short kiss and then begins to speak up once more, “i just wish we could announce you’re pregnant already so that i could be with you, i hate being apart already and this just makes it harder,” he leans his forehead on yours as his hands disappear from your waist in order to lightly begin caressing your small yet prominent bump, “i know, my love, but my manager would kill me if she could not find a way to make one short announcement work in my albums favor, even if it means capitalizing on my baby,” you say with a short laugh.

carlos just smiles on with you by saying, “welcome to hollywood,” there is then a small kiss, a finished packing job, a sad goodbye and then a long plane ride for carlos as he arrives for the mexico grand prix. 

carlossainz_fanpage looks like carlos is riding solo again, now for the mexican gp … trouble in paradise? new music? baby bump? who knows but i miss our mother

username it looks like hes still wearing his ring in the pictures of him arriving and all the ones ive seen

username oh thank god bc i cannot handle being a child of divorce rn

username me neither i rlly hope its the complete opposite and us children are gaining a brother or sister

username omgggg i hope she is pregnant she’d just be the cutest

username pleaseeee i need an album from her its been like two years now i cant take it

username RIGHT?! she got married and abandoned us :/

you had already received a text from carlos telling you that he landed and was heading to his hotel and then the paddock and he would call you later.

something about his words earlier had been sticking with you all day in the back of your head, ‘i hate being apart already and this just makes it harder’.

you and carlos had known each other before the fame with your parents being friends and the both of you have dated throughout it. you rarely were apart as you would go to almost all his races and travel with him and in turn during his breaks you would tour and he would tag right along. it had always worked beautifully since the flexibility of your job allowed you to work from ultimately anywhere, therefore why not spend it following and being with the love of your life? the distance from carlos was difficult, not even remotely from distrust or anything negative, just the simplicity of missing out.

you made a fast but firm decision and began to pack a bag. you gave a quick call to your mother in law informing her of your plan and letting her know you’d be by soon to drop off the dogs and then she began to insist she even drive you to the airport.

she has always loved you like a daughter for as long as you and carlos have been together claiming ‘she is just so good for him, no sé’.

then there is a quick flight, a large hoodie thrown on, and a pregnant y/n waiting right outside carlos’ hotel door.

your hand is brought up and with a sharp knock you stand still simply waiting. carlos takes a minute to open the door and as he does his eyes immediately light up, “y/n!” he makes haste to pull you into his room and into his arms immediately, “qué haces aquí?”

“ay! you’re asking me what i’m doing here instead of a long i love you my beautiful wife thank you for coming,” you mock and joke as he continues to rock you back and forth in his hold.

“lo siento, amor, gracias para coming all this way,” he leans back to look into your eyes while one of his hands finds its way to your bump,

“i was just confused because everyone is going to see, no?” he continues. you nod and begin to laugh while saying, “to be completely honest, carlos, i dont give a fuck. my fans will either buy my album or won't, it doesn't depend on our child. and i for sure am not going to miss out on seeing you race or rob you from any papi/baby time just for a stupid album,” he listens to you speak while his eyes begin to glisten over with happiness, “y/n, i’m so happy porfa can we post now so that i can take you out to a nice dinner and we can actually be people again,” he finishes off his sentence with a laugh.

you just simply smile, nod and give him his answer in a long-awaited passionate kiss. “gracias dios,” he whispers against your lips with a small sigh as you just let out a giggle.

you were a bit nervous before but now after being with carlos and seeing his relief you know you made the right decision. 

yourusername and carlossainz55 baby sainz coming soon <3

comments on this post have been disabled.

y/ncarlos_updates PREGGERS Y/N ARRIVING IN THE PADDOCK TODAY!

username holyyyyy shit she looks so good

username MOTHER IS AN ACTUAL MOTHER

username and our daddy is about to be an actual daddy!!

username they are going to be the most attractive parents ever

username stop im so happy for them this is so cute

username their entire childhood bff to lovers trope and now they’re having a baby like dream come true

username no fr its like watching them grow up before our eyes its so cute

username shes still got such good style even when pregnant i am green with envy rn

username that makes two of us

username u just know the gc is blowing up rn with which driver is going to be godfather

username we all know that if it is a driver itll be landonorris

landonorris damn right

username WHAT THE FU-

[callsign-rogueone]

harvest day - l.m.

secret admirer!Liam x Luceran!reader. part of my Valentine’s Day celly! 💕 words: 932 🏷: reader is feminine and has longish hair (can be tied), but no pronouns used. I am once again making random stuff up about Navarrian cultures. featuring my farm-boy Sawyer headcanon lmao (Luceras doesn’t have one major city on the map in the book. It’s all farmland, and you cannot convince me otherwise.)

You nearly crush it under your boot in your hurry to get to class, stepping back at the last second to pick it up.

A tiny dragon carved from wood -- your dragon, complete with his horns and a tiny spiked tail. You run your fingers over the wood — it’s been sanded, perfectly smooth against your skin. The level of detail is incredible. This must have taken hours.

“You’re going to be late, humble one.”

Right. You tuck it into the pocket of your jacket, locking your door behind you and jogging down the hall. 

You make it just in time, apologizing your way down the row, stepping around people’s feet carefully until you’ve made it to your friends. You settle between Rhiannon and Sawyer, thanking them for saving you a seat. “Overslept,” you explain, digging in your bag for your notebook, which you had nearly forgotten to pack.

You remove your flight jacket, taking the tiny dragon from your pocket and setting it on the desk beside your pen.

“Whoa, sick! Who made that?” Sawyer asks.

“I don’t know. I just found it outside my door. It looks just like him, though. Even got the horns right.”

“It is a very good representation of me,” Cruith appraises. “Though I have never once been that small.”

“That's awesome. Maybe they’re like, a wood-wielder or something,” Ridoc suggests, leaning over to examine it.

“I’m pretty sure that signet doesn’t exist,” Rhiannon says dryly.

“If he can do all that with metal, then it's entirely possible someone could do it with wood,” Ridoc defends.

“That’s what she said,” Sawyer says quietly, trying not to laugh.

Ridoc grins. “I’m rubbing off on you, man.”

You snort. “Now that's what she said.”

“Focus,” Rhiannon scolds lightly, ever the responsible squad leader, her eyes not having left the chalkboard this whole time.

“Yes, mom,” the three of you chorus softly, turning your attention back to the professor. 

Violet looks like she has something to say, but she remains quiet.

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

“Mail call,” Rhiannon announces, distributing opened letters to each of you.

Your heart drops as soon as you start to read yours.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just didn’t realize the date. It’s Harvest Day on Wednesday. Last year I was just too busy trying to stay alive to think about it, but…”

Sawyer winces, understanding. “I wish I could be there too. I swear when I graduate, I’m gonna use all my leave every year to help them.”

“I’m so lost,” Ridoc says, looking between you.

You laugh, explaining. “Everyone spends the day — the week, really — helping their neighbors harvest their crops, and there’s always a feast at the end with what we’ve grown.”

“Gods, the food. My family doesn’t come from much, but that was always the one day a year I felt like we were rich,” Sawyer admits.

You sigh in agreement. “It’s gonna be so weird wearing black all day instead of fall colors.” 

“That is the most Luceran thing I’ve ever heard,” Ridoc says. “Sometimes I forget you guys are all farmers.”

“It’s only our single most important holiday,” you laugh. “And we’re not all farmers. Two of us are dragon riders.” 

Sawyer grins at you, putting a hand up for a high five. “Damn right we are.”

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

Everyone’s eyes widen at the silky orange ribbon tying your hair back. You beam, turning your head to show it off. “Courtesy of the wood-wielder. I have no idea where they got it.”

Your joy is short-lived.

“Precisely what is that, cadet?” Dain asks sharply, and your face falls. There’s only one thing he can be taking issue with, the only spot of color in the sea of black making up your formation.

“It’s a Luceran tradition,” someone says for you — but not Sawyer or any of your friends. “Today is Harvest Day.”

You turn toward the voice, seeing Liam behind you, his eyes locked with Dain’s as if he’s daring the wingleader to argue with him. How does he know about the holiday? Had he overheard your conversation with your squad earlier?

“I expect it to be gone tomorrow,” Dain concedes. “You’re all dismissed.”

You breathe a sigh of relief as everyone files out of the hall.

“Liam?” You ask softly, and he stops, turning toward you. “Thank you.”

Then you see the small block of wood in his hand, the rough shape of another dragon etched into it. “It was you,” you whisper, stunned.

He laughs. “What?”

You reach into your pocket, producing the carving of Cruith. “You made this, right? Were you the one who wrote those physics notes for me when I was in the infirmary, too?” 

He smiles. “Yeah. That was all me.”

Your heart flutters with hope. “Why?”

“Because I was too nervous to say it, but I really like you.”

You blink. Liam, the one who isn’t scared of anything, was nervous to talk to you? And he has a crush on you? You’ve always found him attractive, but you had never thought this a possibility.

“Say something,” Cruith prods, sounding amused.

You finally form words. “Do you want to go into town with me this weekend?”

He blushes, scratching the back of his neck. “I would really like that.”

“Hey, lovebirds, are you coming to breakfast, or what?” Ridoc calls. “Some of us are starving over here!”

You laugh, a sound Liam will never tire of. “Just a minute!” You yell back.

You touch your fingertips to the soft silk, looking up at him. “Thank you, Liam. It really means a lot to me.”

He smiles. “Of course, sweetheart.”

[elsweetheart]

omg idk if this is ok to ask since you’ve never written for hazel but like what do you think her reaction to you mindlessly wearing a super short skirt in front of her would be like… maybe ur like freshly into the relationship n didn’t have sex yet so she’d go crazy i 🤭

no because she’s so silly and awkward but like so horny ♡

waiting in line for your iced latte at the university cafe and she’s backed up a few steps, literally removing her arm from around your shoulder so she can ogle at you without looking like a total creep. you look back to glance at her and she nearly does a full spin trying to pretend she wasn’t looking — and she wasn’t! honest! she was trying to read the rhinestone lettering on the tiny pink skirt that just happened to be spelling something out across your ass!

you didn’t even say anything or acknowledge her gaze, and yet excuses come tumbling suddenly — “n-no—i wasn’t — you had a…” she waves her hand like she’s casting a fucking spell, mumbling something about a stain and your attention is captured again by the barista handing over your drink, paying no attention to hazels rambling as it certainly wasn’t out of character. it’s only back in the safety of your dorm when she brings it up again, because she quite literally cannot keep her eyes off the skirt so she figured she should say something, you know out of politeness.

“so, ‘that a new skirt or?” she trails off hoping it sounded casual and nonchalant. you stand from where you’re sat at your desk, absolutely elated that she noticed the tiny skirt you wore just for her, and she’s breaking into a grin of her own at how cute you were when you were excited. god, she was down dreadful.

“yes! i literally went to get it from the post room yesterday, it’s so cute — it says spoiled across the ass look!” you turn around, twisting at the waist to look down at it yourself. hazels eyes widen naturally, rubbing her sweaty hands on her knees, self soothing so she didn’t nut in her pants there and then. the swell of your ass peeks from beneath the skirt, having ridden up and her mouth waters. she wants to bite the flesh there, not in a weird way or anything just… shit.

“y—i mean, yeah it’s…” she stands up, wandering over to you gently slapping her fist into the palm of her opposing hand, smile fading into more of a smirk— not cocky just… relaxed. whatever it was, it made you bat your lashes a little. “you kinda have this thing where you look good in everything you wear?” she squints, leaning back a little, her voice getting higher as if she was gently breaking news to you. “but the skirt is really pretty. you’re really pretty.” she smiles simply.

you feel all hot in the face and appreciated, rolling your glossy lips over eachother (which she doesn’t miss, her eyes flickering downwards chanting ‘oh fuck’ in her head undoubtably.) “well im glad. i did buy it because like… i don’t know, wanted you to like it.” you get all shy on her and she smiles even bigger.

“well i definitely do. a little too much.”

you giggle and so does she, your fingers interlocking where they hang before you lift them up, looking up sweetly through your lashes to kiss the ring on her knuckle. she shouldn’t get a shiver up her spine from that, because it was pretty innocent— but she was having some urges all of a sudden. she gently shakes a hand free and cups your cheek. “you uh— missed my mouth.” her voice gets breathy towards the end of the sentence as she closes in, pressing her lips to yours.

[suckerloverb]

You wake up in a big, soft, pink dog bed. The feeling of fake fur almost lures you back to sleep, but you remember something. This isn't your house. You're not sure where you are, but you know it isn't your house. Your fuzzy mind has trouble thinking at all.

"H-he....heluh..." you have trouble pronouncing what you try to say. You feel your throat and find a collar there. You notice a mirror. You look better than usual, but your body is bereft of hair except for the top of your head, which seems to have been washed well recently.

You try to get up, but you cant balance. You crawl on all fours out of the softly-lit bedroom and find yourself in a bright, clean, minimalist style lounge room. A tall, dark-haired woman is sitting in a sunken seating area on black, leather couches. The clean white room and sun-begetting windows make her and the couches stand out as you crawl towards them.

"Oh?" The woman says, in a sultry, deep voice. "You're awake? Come here darling." She beckons you over.

You're mind becomes a bit foggier, so you follow her instructions.

"Good girl. Puppy was so good last night, don't you think? I have something for you here." Her voice makes your heart flutter.

As you approach her, you see her more clearly. Her smooth, wavy hair accentuates her silhouette. Her eyes covered by her hair, she sits confidently in the center of the couch. Adorning her are a nose ring, snake bite piercings, and an all-black nightgown. She towers over you.

She holds something in her hand.

Click!

Suddenly, your head throbs. Your mind feels so fuzzy, not a single thought can make it through. You need something. Someone. Someone needs to think for you.

"Good girl. You're still under my control. I think that should be permanent, don't you?"

You nod in agreement. She's thinking for you. Thank goodness.

"Good girl. I need you to follow me."

Click!

You follow her. Its good to follow her.

You two enter a room across from the bedroom you left. Its covered floor to ceiling in clean, soft, and pink faux-fur carpeting. In the center is another dog bed, but bigger and softer. There's also a pink VR headset atop it.

"Now go over and put on the headset, puppy."

Your mind begins to resist a bit, not immediately obeying as you had been the last few minutes.

"Oh no, is puppy resisting? Don't worry, we'll fix that real soon. Now. Obey."

Click!

You obey like a good puppy. The headset feels soft on your face and ears.

Muffled, you hear her say to you, "Good girl. I'll be back in a bit. You'll make the perfect pet, darling." The door closes.

The VR headset shows you a pink spiral. A voice fades in. Its her voice.

"You must be so tired of thinking. Don't you think its better to not think at all? Don't you want someone to think for you? Don't you want an Owner? A Master?"

You nod.

"Good pet. Owner is in control. You understand, right pet?"

You nod.

"Good pet. You are a pet. You cannot think. You cannot speak without permission. You are mine. Repeat."

"I am a pet. I cannot think. I cannot speak without permission. I am yours."

You repeat for what feels like hours. Your mind starts to feel light, as if empty. You didn't need your thoughts, anyways. You're a pet, right?

Eventually, Owner enters the room again and removes the headset.

"How are you feeling? Speak."

"G-good Master! Arf!"

"Good girl. You're a perfect pet puppy, darling."

You feel so good. Without your mind, you feel so unburdened. The only thought in your head left is that you are her pet. And you want to be forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another short story~ Let me know what you'd like to see in another one of these! 💞

[fatesundress]

⭑ observations. tom riddle x reader

part ii here.

summary. you've been going to hogwarts for four months, and find this whole school-wide obsession with tom riddle a little bit ridiculous, and a little bit contrived. surely not all the rumours are true...

tags. smut (minors dni -_-), fem anatomy, fingering, reader who is soooo in denial, trying to worm into tom's brain like a parasite and failing miserably (me projecting), i think reader is implied to either be short or tom is implied to be tall, ooc tom because i am so far from the belief that he would ever just spontaneously hook up with someone but… it is what it is.

note. this is my first post so support is much appreciated!! god forgive me, i've never written smut in my life, and it's safe to assume any smut i write within hogwarts is a university au — these people are all 18+ tyvm. also, i tried my best to make reader fairly neutral, but it's late, and if i've fumbled over some description bc i'm sleepy i shall fix it in the morning ♡

word count. 5.1k

Your first observation is that nobody has Tom Riddle quite right.

He’s beautiful, yes (obvious, repetitive, shallow), and undeniably intelligent (being paired with him in Potions has proved that in a matter of weeks), untouchable (this one is a bit interesting), and, above all, unusual. The latter you like the most. It makes you feel unabashedly exceptional in all the very unexceptional gossip about him. No one ever uses that word to describe him. A rarity of charisma and charm — austere, refined, and clinically polite. Unusual has a negative curve to it that most people don’t attach to the elegant litheness of Tom Riddle, but your observations cannot be stated without the word.

It’s prompted and peddled by Selwyn’s much-too-enthusiastic vehemence in the wake of your first.

You narrow your eyes at her and say it again, no less certain than the first time. “Tom Riddle has not had sex with half the school.”

It’s a bit of a jump. Some necessary context is removed.

Riddle, once more, rarity of charisma and charm and austere blah blah blah, has been rumoured since you arrived this year from your last school to be some silent conqueror, oh-so nimble with his hands and nimbler even with his other appendages, and you — you’ve only been here four months and it’s laughable how many people believe it.

Backtrack to untouchable (this one everyone agrees is a primary characteristic of Tom Riddle, there’s no debate there) and the reason you find it interesting. Untouchable doesn’t exactly work if everyone in the bloody castle has been touching him this whole time. And it’s not as if he could hide it, not as if people wouldn’t be giddy to tell their friends of their exploits with the beautiful, revered Head Boy. And such exploits would be whispers among the halls in a matter of hours. You’ve considered this, with almost scientific determination, and it’s impossible. Tom studies all day, and when he isn’t studying he’s corralling Slytherin first-years away from forbidden corridors, attending to Dippet’s newest errand, escorting third-years to Hogsmeade, dining with the Slug Club, and — point is, someone would have noticed by now if he was disappearing into broom closets with a new lay every weekend.

But Selwyn shakes her head, because this rumour is such an integral part of Tom’s allure. He is, somehow, both untouchable and a master at touch. Distant until he isn’t, and then he can break you apart with practised, perfect hands. It’s all very mythical.

“Look,” she says, “maybe if I’d only been here four months, I’d think so too, but everyone else knows—”

“Maybe it’s because I’ve only been here four months that I have the objectivity to recognize how ridiculous you all are. He’s not a god, Selwyn, he’s a scholar, and an obsessed one at that — has it ever actually occurred to you he might not have had sex at all?”

This, now, is sacrilege. 

Selwyn gapes at you, and you shake your head in surrender before you burst out laughing at how offended she looks. “Fine, whatever. Consider the matter dropped. I give up.”

You don’t really give up. It’s very fun research.

Your second observation is that unusual is not an apt enough word for Tom, and maybe you don’t possess the vocabulary to think of one that is.

You’re in the Restricted Section. This is unrelated to your Tom research, and perfectly sanctioned, with a key granted by the librarian who you feel sorry to admit you have not remembered the name of, and the library, by all means, is still open. It’s a late Thursday night, but not past curfew. You’re there with a study partner you rather wish you weren’t — Gregory Godefrey, Gryffindor (the alliteration is nauseating), and the only half-decent fellow in your Ancient Runes class, but not especially bright. You feel more like his tutor than his partner. In short, the regular books on the topic you’re writing your end-of-term essay on are slim pickings, and thus — Restricted Section.

“So,” you say, “the scriptures might look the same, but they’re written in vastly different time periods, so the meaning has changed. If you were to charge a spell with one of Ashe’s runes now, there’s almost no doubt you’d get a completely different result.”

“I don’t get it,” Godefrey grumbles sleepily into his sleeve. “How’s anyone meant to use runes if they can just change like that?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Any magic can change, Godefrey. Half of the stuff we learn is based on intention and skill. Uagadou barely even uses wands — all of this is arbitrary.”

“My head hurts.”

“Then… just… just go to bed. I’ll finish up here and we’ll try again on the weekend.”

He grins with heavy eyes, lugging his bag over his shoulder and leaving you a packet of sherbet lemons you bitterly wish he’d pulled out sooner. “Wicked — you’re the best. See’ya.”

“See you…” you mumble, unwrapping one and popping it in your mouth.

You don’t stay for long, twirling the key to the Restricted Section around your finger as you tuck your books back into their shelves.

“It’s ten past curfew,” says a voice from behind you, all cool, measured authority, and you nearly collapse.

You stare up from where you’re grabbing onto your knees for balance, your heart halfway out of your chest.

Tom Riddle is there, his Head Boy badge somehow still glittering in the dim light of the library, and it’s only by the half-smile quirking at his lips that you can detect his words weren’t some sort of threat.

“Right, thanks.” You gather your breath. “I was just leaving.”

“Pity about Godefrey.”

You blink. Having worked with Tom in Potions since September, you’ve become perfectly adjusted to speaking to him… only about Potions. He indulges in polite small talk, he smiles freely, but your distance from him is the same as it is with everyone else, if only for the fact that, you suppose, you aren’t actively pursuing anything closer.

Oh. That is interesting — would he be so easily intrigued? It’s a bit cliché, but you suppose he is too.

You’re making an awful lot of assumptions from the words ‘pity about Godefrey,’ and then, you don’t actually have a damn clue what Tom could mean by that.

“Sorry?” you ask.

“Godefrey,” he repeats. “I assume you’re being made to tutor him.”

Right. He must have seen him on his way here. That would make sense.

“No, actually. It’s entirely voluntary — he’s my study partner for Ancient Runes.”

His chin lifts in some nearly imperceptible way, smiling still, and you know he’s a polished thing, an unusual thing, but it reads as an especially fake smile then. “Ah.”

… Oooookay?

“Well —” you start, a mechanical smile of your own forming — “curfew, then.”

The charm fixes onto his face like a damn ornament. You want to flick it away with your finger. “Of course. I’ll see you in Potions?”

You nod, leaving the key behind the librarian’s desk as you slink awkwardly away. Into the corridor. Off to bed. Yet another note to scrawl on the enigma of Tom Riddle.

You see him again first thing in the morning. You’re yawning into the archway of Slughorn’s stuffy classroom, eager to dump your bag over your table and empty the many contents necessary for today’s lesson. 

There’s one girl, the oldest of the Lestranges, who glares daggers into the back of your head every class. Tom is, as always, nonplussed, asking you about your morning as you both prepare your phials and ingredients. You can’t help but shake your head at him this once, a bemused smile on your lips as you glance between him and the Lestrange girl.

“Have I offended her somehow, or is it just that I’m paired with you?”

He laughs under his breath. “I daresay that is the offense.”

You can’t help it. You’re mumbling to yourself in amazement at the bizarre, borderline cultish devotion this school has to Tom Riddle. “Unattainable commodity that you are, Riddle…”

“Well," he begins, his smile small but his voice amused, “I hope you don’t think of me as quite that far outside your grasp."

You freeze.

Are you — have you missed something? Has your casual (really, very casual and not at all unwarranted or peculiar) research for the sake of dispelling Selwyn’s obsession skewed your memory of Tom? Has he always said things like this to you? Have you always read into them like this?

One of his eyebrows rises, and it might be his notorious flattery — but if so, he makes it sound like an obvious truth, and you stammer over the jar of foxglove in your hand. Then you look away, unscrew it, do well not to put too much weight on his words.

“Hm. I have no need for you to be within it, Riddle." You say it with all nonchalance you can muster. To spit it at him in some aggressive dismissal would be to treat it like a big thing. 

It isn’t a big thing. He’s talking to you like he talks to everyone else.

But you catch the barest flicker of disappointment on his face, a flash of something that might even be annoyance. Then, though, it’s gone, and he’s back to that same unshakable, confident smirk.

As the lesson proceeds,  he’s once again the sharpest thing in the room.

You watch for him in the library that weekend, a bit distracted while you and Godefrey study. Without your guidance, there isn’t much studying occurring at all. Godefrey is sort of skimming the pages of a textbook, yawning, as always, like he’s never had a good night’s sleep in his life, and you’re suckling sherbert lemons until the roof of your mouth feels raw.

“What was it you said about Calarook’s Method?”

Your eyes snap from the empty doorway to Godefrey’s face. “Huh?”

“Calarook’s Method.”

“Oh.” You sink boredly into your seat, twirling your quill between your fingers. “It revolutionised the usage of runes globally. She incorporated — um — a much simpler means of translating the scriptures for different methods of magic.”

“Ohhhh, I remember now. Did you write that down?”

“Yes, Godefrey, I wrote it down.”

The final hour before curfew dwells agonisingly longer than it should. It feels like three, at least, until you’re packing your things and bidding Godefrey goodnight, tired legs dragging you down the corridors.

And then you straighten. You stand tall. (You’re absolutely normal about the sight before you.)

Tom smiles at you as he turns the corridor to approach.

“On patrol?” you ask in a friendly tone.

You’re… friends, right? Being someone’s Potions partner for four months qualifies as some degree of friendship, does it not? After all, he did say not to think of him as too far outside your grasp. That was a line if you’d ever heard one, but — you could be Tom’s friend the way everyone is his friend: wholly detached until you were needed.

“Leaving detention,” he answers with a timbre to match.

Your eyebrows raise at that.

“Leaving the second-years I watched in detention, I should say.”

You shake your head. “I should have known.”

“And you?”

“Studying again.”

“Ancient Runes?”

“Mhm.”

“...With Godefrey?”

“That is the concept of a recurrent study partner, yes. It’s recurrent.”

He doesn’t look very much like he appreciates your sarcasm.

“So, then,” you mutter, clearing your throat. “Curfew, I suppose.”

“You performed well in Potions today,” he says after you. It feels like the sort of thing someone says when they don’t want someone to walk away.

You bite your cheek between your teeth — such assumptions will get the better of you. Such assumptions will lead you down a path of crude, obsessive analysis (though you suppose you’ve been doing that all this time, haven’t you?) where you think, in some unspooling knitwork, that there are really only a select few reasons he could want such a thing. Your mind draws to the irresponsible conclusion, as he walks toward you again, a new glint in his eyes, that it’s exactly the sort of thing someone says before rumour has it they disappear into the nearest broom closet with the one they approach. This, you’ve decided an observation ago, Tom Riddle does not do.

“Thank you,” you say carefully. “So did you.”

“We make for a good pair, don’t you think?”

Crude, obsessive analysis. “Slughorn certainly does.”

“And I am asking you.”

He stops a respectable, inviting space before you. His weekend attire is a grey jumper and black slacks, his dark hair in its regular, pristine waves, hands laced behind his back. Everything about him is a request to be met, and not to step forward and close the distance himself. Close the distance, pristine waves, inviting space — you’ve lost your damn mind. You sound like Selwyn. The sugar of a whole packet of sherbet lemons has rendered you imbecilic. You’ll be off to bed, then — sleep this absurdity off.

“Of course, Tom,” you say with a polite smile. “It’d be hard to disagree with the grades I get in that class.” You grab onto your bag to have something to do with your hands, to perhaps signify you’ll be making your exit now.

He seems a bit amused to have to contort himself through the specifics of his meaning. “I was referring to our… rapport.”

“Rapport?”

“We work well together. We communicate efficiently.”

We communicate efficiently? Damn if you couldn’t suddenly make sense of the rumour he’d be applying for the DADA post in the future — that one was definitely true.

“Yes, we do.”

He steps closer. “And I remain far outside your grasp.”

You blink, and there’s a stark, sinking feeling as your eyes drift over the unmarred ivory of his skin, his jaw, his throat, his — no, absolutely not his hands — and you let yourself wonder for the first time if the rumours, albeit exaggerated, have even a shred of truth to them. One exploit, perhaps, to satisfy his endless curiosity. Something academic, like — oh, God, like the way you’ve been studying him for weeks. His hands carving a path down someone’s body to etch it in his memory, another skill added to his arsenal, a new way to work his fingers without a wand, a new way to work his mouth without a word.

It’s only a moment that you wonder it. Some flash of pictures in your head. It is, nonetheless, a moment far too long, and one you don’t know that you can return from.

Tom looks at you from under his eyelashes with an expression that suggests he's the only one in on a very funny joke, and the air is… different. Thick like the Potions room but in a way that’s entirely unfamiliar, not cloudy with the steam of cauldrons but hazy with the proximity of him, cologne and quill ink and something you can’t catch because you’re trying too hard to breathe it all in at once.

But he steps forward again, and seems to say in the slow way he moves, that if you’ll let him, he'll place a hand on your shoulder, and if you’ll allow that — well — then he'll move that hand up to gently frame your cheek. And then, and you no longer consider yourself at all versed in the realm of Tom Riddle, but you think you know what’ll come next.

You allow all of it. You know very well in advance you’re going to allow all of it.

And still, like it’s a surprise, you shiver at the feeling of his hand on your cheek, at the gleaming, certain look in his eyes. Your gaze flickers to his lips for just a second (a fleeting, tiny second you pray fruitlessly he doesn't notice) but his lips curl into the barest of smiles. Something so like him, small but unrestrained, like it never had any hope of growing bigger, but then — you’ve seen the way he grins at you sometimes when you say something stupid in class — you know he’s capable.

“You know what I'm going to do, I assume," he says quietly. It's not a question, per se — more of a statement, and he keeps his eyes fixed firmly on yours as he says it. He's so close you can feel the warmth of his breath. And then he leans in so slightly it might be imperceptible if you weren’t staring, holding your damn breath. “Are you going to let me?"

“I..." You're humiliated to find you are actually struggling to speak. His lips are so close to yours you can feel the ghost of them, can imagine what they might feel like on you. Your mouth is very dry. “We’re… friends, right?”

His voice only wavers for a moment, even as his lips inch ever closer to yours. His voice is tauntingly low, and there's an intimate sort of smile there, a chastising, humorous gleam to his eyes. “Friends," he breathes, and then his lips do close that short distance, and you feel the barest trace of his mouth against yours — his lips, soft and supple against your skin. A moment's kiss. Gone as quickly as it came. “Should we be friends?”

You gape at him, breathing far too heavily for such a chaste kiss, and you imagine your eyes are blown wide, and you lick your lips for a reminder of his taste but it isn't enough. You don't think before standing on your toes to find his lips again. Of course, Tom is stood impeccably straight, his chin almost pointedly jutted so that he can look down at you, and you actually — it's horribly embarrassing — you groan, or whine, or make some sound of blatant discontent at the fact that your kiss doesn’t reach him.

To his credit, his laugh is a very small one. Had it been the other way around you would have been far less forgiving. “I suppose the answer is no, then?" he says, with the implication that the next move might be yours.

“Tom," you as good as hiss (really very foolish of you to use the word forgiving to describe Tom Riddle), “you're being... you're being mean." And you refuse to make the first effort again, even though you probably appear to be a train wreck, your chest is heaving, and you... you want him.

“Am I?" he asks, and he tilts his head to the other side, almost as if to get a better look at you. “How so?" You think he's enjoying himself far too much. But he remains where he is: close enough for you to reach him if you would just yank him toward you and be done with it, and far enough away that you can't take that step without giving him the win.

You stare at him for a long moment, and then with teeth gritted so tight you might chip one, turn to walk away. Tom makes some very hollow, annoyed sound at your stubbornness, and thank god you feel him behind you: soft, lulling, not so immovable as you. 

You stop. His fingers brush your hair to the side. His mouth hovers over the skin of your neck. You shudder.

“Tom..." you sigh, half-exasperated, half-sighed, half-surrendered, but he doesn't answer or stop or do so much as acknowledge your mumbling. He only presses forward, until his breath is right by your ear and his lips, soft, gentle, are against the junction of your exposed neck, and you feel his mouth, the gentle pressure of his lips against your skin... so tender, so light that it doesn’t feel at all like something merciful.

It feels singularly, purposefully cruel.

Your third observation (if you can manage the thought) is that Tom is driven by your reactions. Every little mewl, every shudder, every gasp, he wants more of. He wants whatever you're willing to give him, and you suspect it wouldn’t be hard for him to take it all. Every movement of his hands, his mouth, his — oh, oh no — his tongue, abide by whatever you respond to most. He draws in patterns. He stops. Appreciates the speed of your pulse on the curve of your throat for a moment and then tastes it again. It doesn't seem like he particularly cares what he gets out of it. The intrigue for him is having the proximity (he greatly enjoys that you’ve allowed him it) and capacity (that, you think, he’s always had) to make you fall apart.

He's spinning you then, so you're pressed facing the wall, his chest against your back, and the way he whispers against your skin makes you shiver. You dare to think he feels it, his chest heaving against your back, his breath warm and steady by your ear. And as he kisses you you can't help but imagine what might happen if he were just a few inches lower, if he were to sink to his knees, kissing the soft flesh of your chest, and down, and down, and down…

Your eyes flutter closed, and it's clear you like what he's doing by the sound that escapes you — something loud enough for him to stifle your mouth with his palm. Perhaps a little too much. Perhaps you’ll be embarrassed about it later. But right now his tongue is brushing against your skin again, and there’s something very dizzying and hot that starts with his mouth on your neck and works its way down until it's a challenge just to stay standing. You wonder if he can tell just how weak in the knees you are right now, whether that only makes him push forward, and —

And that must be it. He must know, because you think you're trying to say something but you can't form the words, and he has to feel the reverberations with his teeth bracketing little violets on your neck, he must feel the way your legs buckle, how you're held up only by the weight of him behind you.

He must know.

He pushes forward, his fingers bury in your hair, and he pulls your head back slowly — not necessarily to expose you further, but to better see your face. Your eyes lock with his over your shoulder, and there's that hunger there, lips swollen with the print of you... and his voice, when he speaks, is as if he's only barely stopping himself. “Do you want me to stop?"

You shake your head before you think he’s actually finished the question, swallowing the cotton-dry feeling in your throat. No, no — him stopping is the very last thing you want — you feel entirely rational and not at all melodramatic in saying you might just die if he stops. You want more, and he's looking at you like that’s the only thing he’s ever wanted.

He bites down gently on your neck, and you gasp as your knees finally go out from under you (you almost think he planned for this with how quickly he catches you), and you wonder if he'll do something you can't bear; if you'll be reduced to a mewling, drooling mess before he's finished with you.

Your fourth observation — which really is the last one you can muster before it starts to melt into something else — is that you make him human in the only way he can understand: panting into him, fingers in his skin, white-hot and damp at the centre of his obsession. The object of his affection. You make him understand something more singular than ambition. 

Want.

And then his spare hand is dipping past your skirts, and you dig your fingers into his wrist — the combination of the hardness pressed against your back, his hands marking a path to forbidden territory, his finger curling into your mouth as his lips continue their assault on your neck — it's too much. It’s deliriously, disastrously not enough. Your vision is starting to blur.

His fingers stop at the curve where your thighs part and you bite gently down on him to quiet the noise that wants to escape you. He hums against your throat, continuing to kiss and lick and bruise you. You're dazedly aware of the cool air on your thighs as your skirts halo your waist, the heat inside, the shudder as his fingers find your core, and carefully begin to circle you. You feel self-consumed, immolated, devoured and spat out again. You feel like you're still falling, and Tom is the only force that keeps you standing.

He draws in slow, expert patterns — and you think, nonsensically, somewhere very distant where you still have sense, that they can’t be expert, he must have read something or observed some — oh. He’s pushing the thin fabric aside until his fingers are pressed directly against your flesh, and he makes a satisfied noise in the back of his throat as the evidence of how much you need this soaks his fingers, as they begin to sink in without resistance. Oh. Right. You don’t remember exactly what you were saying. 

You gasp at the feeling of having him inside when they finally curl into you. 

His finger is pulled from your mouth with a small pop, and you can’t even really muster the capacity to be embarrassed by the lewd, wet sound of it. He watches you over your shoulder, at his fingers vanished between your legs, at the drool clinging to the digit he’d quieted you with. He’s smiling into your neck now, proud and grateful all the same.

“Mine,” you think he murmurs, but it’s more something you feel than hear, some vague, hazy consonants pressed to your throat. It would be very like him, so you decide that yes, that’s probably what he said. And there’s something funny about it — the idea of being his — about what it means for him to want you so badly that he says it out loud. It feels a little bit like he’s yours, too.

Tom’s breathing is harsh, the fingers inside you moving as if they have a will of their own. Every muscle in your body constricts and squeezes around them; every cell, every neuron, comes roaring to life; and you’re fucked. You’re so completely fucked. His teeth scrape against you again, wholeheartedly pleased. This is what he wanted to see — the utter loss of you — when you are nothing but sensation, barely aware of your limbs as they slump against him. Tom is it; Tom is the only thing you can think of.

Tom is, inexplicably, upsettingly good at this.

“Look at you," he says softly. And his touch changes; it becomes slower, more deliberate and careful.

You’re trembling hopelessly. The way you coil and collapse under his touch is just further encouragement. He doesn't even bother to speak anymore, only pants, his eyes half-lidded, his lips swollen and slick when they attach to your throat again. Your whole body is on fire, and he's the one setting you alight — there is not a single inch of you that is not alive with the feeling of him, and you can barely breathe through the slow, heavy rush of it. 

You think you cry at the divine curve of his fingers carving inside you, slow and soft and then intense — when you grip his arm for more friction, and one of his hands is coming up to wipe a tear away but the feeling flares in your abdomen and you're only half aware of it, really — you think your eyes have rolled back. You think you've gone somewhere else. 

He keeps you just on the precipice, just shy of losing control, just far enough to leave you craving for more.

“To—Tom," you sob, gasps cleaving his name in two — you're on the brink of something incomprehensible, building inside you to something you can't help but think is about to shatter, your eyes clenching shut as you grip him so hard you're certain your fingers will leave marks. “I'm gonna—"

“I know," he breathes against your neck, hands running a familiar path along your body; he's so very, very proud that he's made you like this. He just barely bites into the spot above your collar, curls his fingers, and then you’re falling — something unfurls inside you and can’t be collected, something hot and depthless that your hands can’t clutch at from where they’re clinging so desperately to him — and you think, coming down from it with trembling, debilitating ecstasy, that he looks very much like he’d be proud to make you like this over and over again.

You're flattened, and that triumph in his eyes — the absolute satisfaction of seeing you this way, of knowing that that he's the one that did it to you — that feeling fills your mind and makes you collapse even more, makes you want to melt and flow into liquid at his feet; to give in, do whatever he says, even if all he says is just be like this for him.

He slowly removes his fingers as you come down, and your eyes are blinking for focus when he turns you around, his thumb coming up to brush over your bottom lip and you sigh at the taste of yourself as he pushes it inside your mouth. His other hand brushes away the damp, stray hairs that have fallen across your face, almost reverently, a silent worship as he takes you in, appreciates everything you just gave him.

He smiles gently at your half-blinking, half-vacant expression, his thumb still in your mouth; he watches you for a long moment in silence. His eyes are heavy-lidded and he's got a small quirk at the corner of his mouth as he pulls his thumb away and swipes it once more over your lip.

You're still not quite sure you can find words. Still not sure they'd form right as your tongue darts over the residue of Tom's finger and you flush impossibly hotter at the feeling of your own arousal on your mouth. Tom fixes your hair behind your ears and it doesn't seem like he's ready to stop taking you in in this state — your hair wild,  lips swollen, throat bruised and dress askew — and he leans in so tenderly it startles you, pressing a faint, almost imperceptible kiss to your forehead.

“Tell Godefrey he’ll be needing a new study partner. I think you’ll find yourself committed elsewhere." And with that he turns on his heel, perfectly composed, and disappears into the darkness of the midnight corridor.

Oh God, you think, and you’re too stunned to even react as you watch him vanish. It takes you a moment before you regain your senses, and you can only just manage to sputter out a breathless, miserable sigh into the air before you.

You are so completely, utterly fucked.

[feyhunter78]

Final Chapter - You have wed and the guests have gone, but the Dragon Queen has stayed. Perhaps it is time to visit Dorne.

NSFW content below the cut

The Dragon Queen remains a guest of The Rock, moons after the other attendees have returned home. It is not unpleasant, but you find yourself on edge around her. She has been nothing but polite, kind even but Jon’s words ring in your head. How many times will he be asked to break his oath? How many times can House Lannister change sides until they are no longer trusted? King Stannis was stern yes, and dour, but he was not cruel, not like Joffrey or the stories you heard of the Mad King.

And Jon, gods above Jon distrusts her all the more. For it was her brother that stole his mother away, her father who burned his uncle and grandsire alive. He is polite as well, but avoids her. It is subtle, mostly, though there are times Jon will simply leave a room when Daenerys enters, Ghost trotting behind him. This leaves you torn between staying to make excuses on his behalf, or fleeing as well to soothe Jon’s storm of emotions.

You have yet to see the dragons, yet to hear them, and you are quite sure you would rather it stays that way, the tales you have been regaled with are terrifying enough. Though your father, who had loved dragons since he was a child, swore to you, they were in the vicinity, camped out on an island nearby. They could stay there, their mother could join them, you wanted no part in this, not when you had finally gotten all you desired.

You find Jon hunched over his writing desk, quill in hand, inkwell closed, the parchment blank before him. He has done this many times, and you are never quite sure what or who he is intending to write.

“You know, usually one must first wet the quill before attempting to write.” You say, as you lean against the desk, and remove the inkwell’s stopper.

He sets down his quill and sighs, pushing his chair away from the desk, his head falling back, his neck extended and exposed. “I was not truly going to write anything, I simply…” He cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair.

“I know this has been difficult for you, perhaps we should visit your father in Starfell, put some distance between us and whatever fresh torture is brewing amongst the lords?” You suggest, replacing the stopper and putting away his quill.

Jon grabs your hand and brings it to his lips, his grown-out stubble tickles your skin. “Could we even do that? Would it be right?”

You slide between him and the desk to seat yourself in his lap, looping your arms around his neck. “What is right can be subjective at times.”

He gives you a confused look, his handsome face tanned from his time in the sun, his curls luxurious and scented with oils from Dorne. His broad chest well-fitted in fabrics you purposely did not tell him the price of, because you knew he would refuse to wear them on principle. He has thrived at The Rock, and satisfaction purrs within you at the sight.

“In the eyes of the realm it would not be right, you and I, together before your parentage was revealed, but it was right to us—or at least to me, I know you struggled with the idea.”

Jon’s hands settle on your waist as he listens intently, always so intently.

“If we had done what the realm thought was right, you and I would not be, and I cannot fathom a world where you and I apart is correct. So maybe it is wrong to leave, maybe it is not, all I care about is if I am with you, wrong or right.”

He kisses you gently, a brief fleeting thing, but no less filled with affection than his searing, lingering ones. “We could go, for a while, not too long, just a visit.”

You return the kiss, hands cradling his face, lifting it up towards you. “Not too long, not too short, we shall stay as long as you desire, Husband.”

He hums contentedly, pulling you closer, his lips against yours a slow languid movement, sweet and unhurried, caresses of unspoken affection and whispered promises.

Your head spins when you pull away for air, and Jon’s lips chase after yours, aching to recapture them as his hands begin to ghost over your sides, fingertips counting each inhale and exhale.

“Promise me we will do this in Starfell.” He says, his chest rising and falling as he catches his own breath.

“We shall do this and more if it pleases you.” You promise him, heart skipping a beat when his eyes darken.

A wolfish smile appears on his kiss swollen lips. “Aye, it would.”

Your back is cushioned by a mountain of pillows, all swathed in fabrics of red and orange, a golden stringed tassel caught in your grip as you dig your nails into a nearby pillow, desperately taking in air. “Jon, oh gods—”

He does not respond, his dark curls, his shoulders and strong arms are the only parts of him you can see. His arms are wrapped around your thighs, keeping you open and still, unable to squirm away as he devours you. His wondrous mouth on you, his tongue making you see stars, his fingers digging into your skin so tight you know there will be bruises, but you care not.

He nips at your inner thigh before wrapping his lips around your bud, his tongue moving in some nonsensical way that sends a bolt of lightning through you. Sparks of lust flying from your skin, a desperate yearning building within you again.

The sun is still high in the sky, streaming in through the large window, the scent of Orange Blossoms drifting on the breeze, accented voices and hurried footsteps come from below, but you pay no mind, and neither does Jon. His movements are unhurried, indulgent, groans of pleasure vibrating against your folds.

He is bare from the waist up, shoulders and back are marred with nail marks, your nail marks, reddened lines and half-moons. You tangle your free hand in his hair, yanking him impossibly closer, urging him to move faster, to release one of your thighs and coax your second release forward with his skilled fingers.

“So impatient.” He chuckles, lifting his head, his lips shiny with your arousal, as he does just what you desired, two long fingers slipping in with ease, stroking and curling until pleasure seizes you, driving all thought from your mind.

You whine in response, tugging harder on his curls. A flicker of pride going through you at the way Jon’s hips roll against the bed, a groan escaping him.

Jon returns to your core, tip of his tongue tracing shapes and symbols on your bud as his fingers coax you higher and higher. He slips in a third, and your walls clench around him, your breath catching in your throat.

Gods you want him to ravish you, to tear your flimsy Dornish gown from your body and pound into you until there is an imprint of your body in the pillows.

Then you shatter, coming undone into his strong grip, breathless and shaking, as you push up on your elbows to see Jon still desperate. His eyes meeting yours as he ruts against the bed, his head dropping forward, his forehead resting against your thigh, panting heavily as he finishes.

You lay there spent as he joins you on the bed, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “We have dinner with my father soon.”

“I am sure he does not mind waiting.” You smile, pulling him back in with a leg hooked around his hips.

A cry from the chamber next to yours sends you both sitting up in bed, the night dark, the moon a mere sliver amongst the clouds.

You arise first, wrapping a robe around yourself and trudging sleepily into the nursery. Lyon, your son, with his thick dark curls and vibrant green eyes, is wide awake, kicking up a fuss in his bassinet. Leaning down, you scoop him up, and hold him close to your chest, shushing him gently.

Jon joins you soon, wrapping his arms around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder. “He is surely a lion with a cry like that.”

“I think he is more a wolf with all his howling.” You jest softly, stroking Lyon’s cheek.

He is beautiful, a perfect mixture of you and Jon, born in Starfell, while a third revolt took place in the rest of the kingdoms. Daenerys sat on the throne, your father, her hand. She had sent gifts, your father had come himself with them and dozens of his own gifts, with the contingency that you would receive the rest upon your return home. You would go soon, take your place within The Rock. To ensure your son would be as fine a Lannister as any could be, to begin to seek out an advantageous bride for him, and give him a sibling or three to play with. But for now, the realm could wait.

Jon TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo, @legolastheleafyelf, @faerie-film, @wifiatthetrainstation, @duskypinki, @tartine-de-pain, @rebeccawinters, @taylorsfemalerage, @rax-raxus, @certainwonderlandperfection, @nymeriiiia, @burkgolden, @drewsivy