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pixxiies · 7 months ago

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tense

pairing ;; matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings ;; oral (fem receiving), fingering, praise, use of y/n, fluffy beginning and ending, softdom!matt, pet names (sweetheart n princess, etc), no actual p in v, lowercase intended !!

word count ;; 1.1k

a/n ;; this was based off a request!! had lots of fun writing this:) also sorry if this is bad im ovulating and im a little bit high

yk the basics .. pink is u , blue is matt !!

. . .

your pov

i stepped into my boyfriend’s house after a long shift at work. “hey chris.” i sigh, putting my bag down on the island. “hey y/n, matt wanted me to tell you that he was gonna be streaming when you got back.” the brunette boy spoke from the couch, sipping on a can of pepsi.

i nodded before making my way down the hall to matt’s room. i knocked softly on the door and a small “come in” was heard from inside. i slowly walk into the room with a light smile on my face. “alright guys ima go on mute real quick.” matt spoke into his mic, muting it then getting out of his seat.

“hey baby, how was work?” he asked me, bringing me into a hug. i let out a small mumble in reply as my arms wrapped around his neck. "could be better, my legs hurt so bad from running around all day. but i got a $100 tip from this guy since he said my ass was fat" i laugh, letting go of matt so i could take off my hooters uniform. matt was literally forgetting that he had been streaming the entire time.

“could you get me a shirt baby?” i ask matt, struggling to take off the tight white long sleeve uniform top. he nodded, tossing me one of his shirts that i missed terribly. we laughed about it quietly as i took off the extremely revealing shorts. i put on the pink hershey bear shirt, then body flopping down on his silk sheets. “im gonna lay down, my legs hurt so bad.” i pointed out as my body laid comfortably in his bed.

matt hummed, looking at his pc. he quickly walked over and sat down in his gaming chair. “hey guys, sorry ima have to end the stream a bit earlier. thanks for watching love you guys.” matt spoke into his mic after he unmuted. he clicked the red ‘end’ button before he stood up. “matt you didn’t have to end it” i smile, opening my arms for him. “eh its whatever, i was already streaming for a few hours so its okay.” he reassured as he laid down next to me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

he kissed my temple softly, rubbing my lower back gently. “tell me about your day y/n/n.” he whispered into my skin. i let out a small sigh. “well, it was a bit stressful. a lot of guys asked for my number, got a lot of tips since i had good tits and ass…” i trail off, playing with matt’s hair. “i also fell, so that’s probably why my legs hurt.” i pout. he hummed quietly, figuring something that could help me. “i can give you a massage if you’d like.” the brunette boy suggested.

my eyes twinkle a little bit, “hm i’d like that a lot.” i giggle. matt rolled over to his nightstand and grabbed a small bottle of lavender scented lotion from his drawer. i sat up slightly, throwing the blanket to the side.

matt sat crisscrossed while squirting a bit of lotion into his hands. “is this the lavender one i bought you?” i ask with a small smile. he nodded, spreading the lotion evenly on my thighs and calfs. his thumbs kneeded into my skin, making sure every inch of my skin got touched.

his palms massaged every part of my leg. i let out a quiet shaky moan as matt soon neared his fingers close to my inner thighs. he looked up at me with slight doe eyes. “is this okay sweetheart?” he asked, tilting his head to the side slightly. i nod slowly, allowing matt to give soft kisses on my thighs.

matt’s hands ran up and down the sides of my thighs with a bit of pressure, leaving goosebumps. “does this feel good princess?” matt whispered as his eyes shot through mine. i whine in agreement, the spot in between my legs starting to ache. his fingers continued to get closer to where i needed them to be. “matt, baby.” i whine. matt hummed quietly, looking back up at me. “hm? what is it sweetheart?” he whispered, spreading my legs apart. i blinked at him slowly, “mh, i need you.” i breath softly.

“awh my poor baby.” he teased, his thumb rubbing small circles on my clothed clit. my back arched off the bed just a bit. his fingers hooked around the waistband of my panties and he slowly pulled them down.

matt looked up at me, his hand sliding under my lower back. his fingers traced my entrance teasingly, making me let out soft moans. “i barely touched you sweetheart, and your already wet.” he laughed softly, allowing his fingers inside of me. “mgh, baby.” i whine to the slight burning sensation of matt stretching me out. his fingers slid in and out of me easily, sending me over the moon. “taking my fingers so well huh?” matt purred, his tongue soon flicking over my clit. his tongue started to work wonders on my cunt, it swirling around my bundle of nerves.

i whimper out quietly, my legs wrapping around his head slightly. my hands reached down to his hair, tugging on it gently. a string of curses left my mouth that was falling agape. “fuck fuck please keep going.” i moan out. “such a needy girl.” matt whispered softly with a cocky smile on his face. my breath quickened so fast as his fingers continued to thrust in and out of me, hitting my g-spot repeatedly.

matt was determined to continue eye contact with me as his mouth worked on me perfectly. “mmmm. matt please dont stop it feels so good.” i whimper out as the familiar knot started to form in my stomach. “oh yeah?” he teased, letting his fingers out of my pussy and replaced them with his tongue. my back completely arched off of the bed, moaning out to the sensation of his tongue starting to fuck me.

i continued to let out small whimpers while matt continued to fuck me faster with his tongue. my eyes roll to the back of my head as my hips jolt upwards into his face. “m-matt im gonna cum.” i whimper, my hands pushing his head closer to my cunt. ”cum for me angel.” matt whispered, making the knot in my stomach unknot. he lapped up anything that he could and his mouth detached from my pussy.

his slender fingers curled up into me a few more times before he kissed my clit softly one last time. matt let soft wet open mouthed kisses on my inner thighs. “lets finish giving you that massage, yeah?” he laughed, as if he didn’t just practically make out with my pussy. “yes, please.” i pant out with a lazy smile on my face. we both giggled about it for the next few minuetes of matt kneeding his fingers into my skin.

taglist ;; @cheetahmadi @sturniol0s @luverboychris @mattsluttywaist

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #chrissfawn #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo

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readychilledwine · 6 months ago

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Odd One Out pt 2

Summary - After 500 years of friendship, the last thing you ever expected was the Inner Circle to miss one of your symphonies. But you know what they say, time changes people.

Warnings - 10 year time jump, groveling, Fluff, reader forgives Azriel, loosely edited (Liz will fix and check for mistakes she and her friend missed with fresh eyes 💕)

A/N - forgive the name picked for Kal and Vivienne's daughter. So many of you are playing with Disney princess themes I couldn't shake it.

Odd One Out pt 1

✨️ Azriel Masterlist ✨️ Master Masterlist ✨️

Dawn was beautiful. In the past 10 years, as you had toured the Realm performing, you had realized that quickly. Every court always brought you back to Dawn. Every High Lord brought you back to Thesan. Thesan had allowed you to build home here, welcoming you and your talent with open arms, and tonight was a true testimony of his love for you and your music as he paid you a high honor.

Thesan had spent the day hosting the quarterly High Lord's Meeting, and tonight, his gift of relaxation to the other High Lords was you, your orchestra, and a night of candle lit music, champagne, and food.

You smoothed out the dress Thesan had commissioned for you tonight. An off the shoulder tulle number with long sleeves. It was soft and buttery, flowing with every step. The top hugged you perfectly, and two long slits sat on each leg, exposing them and the heels you were wearing. The fabric was a soft white color, a stark opposite to your conducting gowns in the Night Court. Jewels were sewn into the fabric, dripping down your body like you had been wrapped and bathed in starlight. The only sign of your home was that star-like glow and the earrings Azriel had bought you many years ago. The rough diamonds set in rose gold had backs that dropped on delicate chains with another diamond sitting at the bottom. “something delicate for my gentle girl,” he had whispered that sentence to you, letting it sink into your skin and mind.

How odd it truly felt to compare that moment to when Azriel sat there in silence as Elain lashed out against all you had built, all your hard work, studying, you're very being.

You took a deep breath, silencing your nerves as the theater went quiet. Dinner had been served, drinks flowing left and right, and now it was time. You watched as you musicians took their places, sitting and preparing themselves as well. Most had followed you from Night, and last you tragically heard, the Rainbow had grown silent in your absence. The new musicians ranged from every court, every walk of life. You smiled fondly at what you had remade, at their outfits so finely crafted of black fabric and silks.

Thesan took the stage next, doing something Rhysand never had, “High Lords and Ladies, faithful emissaries, friends. After a long day of tense negotiations, words said in anger and frustration, and Rhysand's horrible father jokes,” a loud “hey” came from the audience making you laugh softly, “I could not think of a more enchanting way to end our night. A decade ago, a talented female came to me, offering to exchange a week of shelter and security for her playing music nightly for my court.”

Thesan looked so softly towards you, “An offer many of you would go in to receive as well as she traveled our lands studying our music and history. Her talent had touched my fae and myself so deeply that when the time for her to make a home base came, I was honored when she approached me and built this theater to her exact wants and needs.”

He continued after a long breath, “Tonight is her first performance and opening night. I felt it would be wrong for anyone besides all of us to see her newest pieces first. Pieces inspired by every court, by all of our stories, of our fae’s stories. She wrote a collection of 7 songs, for us, about us.”

Silence refell over the room, a quiet appreciation for what they were about to see. “Without further ado, y/n.”

Clapping began as the faelights turned off, and candles took their place, glowing and reflecting off your gown. You bowed gracefully before turning and raising your hands as soon as Thesan took his seat. You began the concert in Tamlin's court, playing a piece inspired by his own love of music and the sounds of a spring storm. The music rose before a gentle fall where everything became more gentle as if it was quiet after a hard rain. You couldn't see as Briar took his hand at the swell, the soft moment where the violin went from the jig of a fiddle to the formality was a reflection of the moment Tamlin's dreams were lost to him, but new dreams began.

Summer was a symphony to the magic of bioluminescence. The sound was heavily inspired by the night of laughter and fun you had watched Varian and Amren enjoy. It had been the ancient female's first time seeing the ocean turn to waves of stars, and Varian had hired you to play for them that night. She cried as a familiar harp solo came, one that she had turned to Varian on one knee as you played it.

Autumn was the sound of battle and passion. Eris's rise as high lord was captured in every note, every building drum. The high lord openly smiled during the peak. The moment where drums of war faded to the sounds of peace. The sound of peace after war was shown through a soft wood flute playing. An instrument that was born in Autumn's halls.

Winter had been the most unique to compose. Kallias and Vivienne's story was so well known, but their daughter, their darling Elsa, the 10 year old princess, was an unknown and protected factor. You took a deep breath before beginning this piece and looked to the white-haired girl, “For you,” you said softly to her bright grin. Elsa had written on sheet music for you during your stay there, lyrics to accompany the notes on your page, you held out your hand, welcoming your only singer for the night. The song was a desperate plea, a singer begging to be noticed for who she was, for her talent to be noticed before her beauty. You had picked the singer based on how young and fragile her voice sounded, the way it truly felt like a cry as she begged to be looked at for who she was.

Dawn's turn came and the music felt like taking flight, it encompassed the thrill of the air, of an early morning sunrise adventure. The piece left you breathless due to the amount of movements it took. It was intricately layered and as lively as Thesan's court while maintaining an air of class.

The Day Court was music of love and sex. Tender moments mixed with playful notes and chords that screamed sensuality. The tone was overall seduction, but moments of tenderness came through as well. It was a tribute to the biggest flirt you knew. The biggest flirt who became the most faithful husband.

You were left with one court. You turned to begin your thank you and took a deep breath, “Over the past several years, you all have welcomed me into your courts and homes with open arms. You allowed me to study the music of your homes, your culture, and learn to play them to perfection. For that, I will always be grateful and so humbled by the generosity and kindness shown to me.”

You took a deep breath, stilling the last of your nerves. “My story begins in Night, though. My childhood began a long friendship between myself and someone who pushed me towards my dreams. This last song is dedicated to him.”

Azriel heard as Rhysand held his breath. He watched as his brother laced his fingers with Feyre. Feyre began to cry immediately. Of all the songs you composed, this one held the most strings, a clear call to Rhysand and your humble beginnings in the streets of the Rainbow playing. Azriel watched you in awe.

You turned and a voice you had heard countless times played through magic. It was the moment they had met and a soft purr of, “There you are. I've been looking for you," echoed before the music began.

10 years, 10 years without even so much as a whisper or note. He watched you move with grace, watched as a violin sang softly. The tune was a call to the Inner Circle, and before Azriel could stop them, his shadows began to dance.

Every movement of your arms and body was like watching liquid starlight sparkle and gleam to the fantasy inducing tune you had created. As your hands fell to indicate the end, Azriel felt his heart stopping.

It was the bond that drew him to you.

It was the years of friendship, of quiet nights listening to you play for just him, or long hours with you hands over his, so soft and warm, teaching him to play piano.

It was the fact that he was in love with you. And he realized he had been for a very long time.

Kind, talented, beautiful, you.

He watched as you wiped a few quick tears as you and Rhysand held eye contact. He felt his breath hitch as you bowed during your queue before walking out.

The orchestra played a familiar tune as everyone stood to leave and feyre began to cry. You had played this song during Feyre's first Starfall, hoping the romantic tune would have been enough to make the high lord and his mate kiss. It became a song they begged you to play every second they could. Rhysand held Feyre while looking at Azriel.

“Get. Her. Back.”

You did not attend the after party. Seeing the Inner Circle had been too much. You had hoped that after all these years, that pain would be gone. You leaned against your balcony, humming a new tune you wanted to write. A shadow caressed your skin as you moved inside and sat at your harp. “I know you want me to play your song.” The shadow swirled and began to dance as you plucked the taunt strings.

“You spoil them.” Your breath hitched at that familiar voice. “Don't stop,” Azriel sat down in the corner of the room. “They've missed dancing for you.”

You let out a shaking breath and began again, watching with a soft smile as the shadows weaved and played. The sight always memorized you. They always memorized you. These beautiful shadows were more like children than darkness. Each had a personality, a voice, a preference in instrument. You finished and lowered your hands.

“Elain is probably wondering where you are.”

Azriel rose a brow, “Elain and Lucien are on their honeymoon, sailing the world.”

You knit your brows. “I'm sorry. I know you loved her.”

“Not the way I love you.” Silence fell over the room, “I have loved you for so long and been blind to it. I will never get back the time I wasted in my stupidity. I will never be able to take back the hurt Elain caused you.”

You went to open your mouth and speak, “No. I want you just to listen to me, y/n.” You nodded and looked at him. “I love you,” he stated it like a finality. “The bond snapped for me the night you left, but in your absence, I have realized I loved you long before that blessing and that I would love you long after.”

He paused and continued, “I was silent when Elain spoke to you because I was in shock, but that isn't a good enough excuse. She hurt you, and I stayed silent. I will never forgive myself for that, so I do not expect you to. I'm not even worthy of asking you for a chance to make things right, but I am here as a desperate male. A male who wants nothing more than his mate, his love.”

“Azriel-”

“Listen,” he moved to you, getting in his knees before you and taking you hands in his. He placed one on his face and smiled. “I dream of this gentle hands, of the joy they bring. I dream of you. Of your love and light. Your heart. When I sleep, I pretend I can hear your heart dancing for me, luring me like a siren spell.”

Your bottom lip trembled and a tear fell, his love for you poured down that neglected bond, warming every inch of your being. “Azriel..”

“Y/n, I am so sorry I wasted so much of your time, of our time.”

You threw your arms around him, holding him tight as he continued. “I beg you to allow me to try to make this right. To show you how special you are to me, to our home, to our family. I am begging you for just a chance.”

His words left like a healing and soothing balm on unseen wounds. “Our family is at a party just below you. Waiting for me to either come back with you or to mourn the loss of you forever. Tell me what I am doing. If I have failed us.”

The party was in full swing as Rhysand watched Nyx and Feyre dance. He held his empty whiskey glass, debating on another one when perfectly manicured hands grabbed his empty glass and placed a full one in his grasp. He grabbed that soft hand instantly, “y/n darling.”

“Rhysand,” He turned and kissed your palm, violet eyes on yours. You continued the greeting softly. “Your presence makes my mind sing the most beautiful song.”

Rhysand held back tears as he answered, “And my heart longs to hear you play it.” He nuzzled your hand. “Come home to us.”

You sighed happily as Azriel rested his hand on your back, “I believe we can negotiate that."

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp

Odd One Out Taglist:

@gabbiskylar01 @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @blacktreacle22 @buttermilktea11 @heartless-tate @nerdy4itall @eep500 @tele86 @cleverzonkwombatsludge

#Spotify #acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction

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cute-little-crow · 2 months ago

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You’ve taken Zayne’s tie hostage, it’s time for the negotiations to begin but things don’t go quite how the good doctor imagined…

tw: female reader, slight NSFW, wearing his clothes, suggestive and flirty

Prelude | Part Two

“Doors open,” you yelled from the doorway of your bedroom, waiting until you heard the soft snick of the front door opening and closing before turning to give yourself a final glance in the mirror.

Your fingers smoothed down imaginary creases, nerves settling on your shoulders but you were certain that your efforts would not go unappreciated. Zayne was often reserved, guarded in his actions and reactions but you had heard his breathless gasp clear as day when you spoke on the phone this morning.

The longer you stood here worrying, the more your bottle would crash. Throwing your shoulders back, you nodded to your reflection and padded out of the room on bare feet to find the good doctor.

He stood in your small kitchen nook, back to you whilst he worked on uncorking the bottle of wine in his hand. A black shirt stretched across his back and broad shoulders, the sleeves meticulously rolled to his elbows. You caught your lip between your teeth, admiring him with a long lustful rake of your eyes until he froze.

Caught.

“You shouldn’t… stare,” Zayne said, turning to face you. His expression shifted from cool amusement to dumbstruck as he took you in.

You leaned against the wall with a subtle smile, watching as his own gaze slowly descended to your bare, wiggling toes and caressed your body upwards in slow appreciation. You could see his throat working. Not long after, a long finger loosened the tie at his collar and popped open the top buttons.

“Am I to guess that you like what you see, doctor?”

Zayne groaned. A pinched expression creasing his brow whilst he searched for words that would be articulative enough to express the thoughts tumbling through his head. He was not accustomed to feeling this… off balance.

He swallowed and gave a shallow nod—not quite trusting his voice yet.

Your legs were as bare as the feet twisting on the hardwood flooring, smooth and soft, inviting. His fingers twitched against the pocket of his trousers, desire building behind his navel to push those same twitching fingertips into the plush of your skin.

The white dress shirt was clearly one of his from a previous night sleeping over and it hung beautifully on your smaller body. The buttons only done up so much, allowing for one shoulder to peer out and tempt him into closing the distance between you.

Zayne was moving before he became aware of it. Your chin tilted upward, lips open on a noiseless breath. Your jaw tensed for a split second when he cupped your face and lowered his mouth to your ear.

“Like…” he breathed, warmth tickling your skin, “… is a grave understatement.”

The tie that had started all of this caught his attention at long last. Knot loose, midnight silk decorating your décolletage. He was jealous of his tie which was inanely stupid, yet he couldn’t deny the emotion. He fingered the tail to pull it lower between the valley of your breasts.

“The hostage in question. He appears to be suffering Stockholm Syndrome, and I can’t say I blame him.”

“I’ve given him a good home, treated him with kindness and a warm heart,” you cooed, leaning into the strength of his body just to feel something more—more of him.

“Is it ridiculous that I’m jealous?”

“No. Feel your feelings, Zayne. It’s not ridiculous but I can assure you that I’d treat you even better.”

His thumb drew a line from below your ear down the side of your neck and over to the hollow at your throat. You were going to be the death of him, and somehow that thought wasn’t so scary when he imagined the way he’d go.

“Tell me more…”

an: I’ll continue this but who should lead? Zayne or reader? 😌 dividers by @/roseschoices

#love and deepspace #lnds zayne #love and deepspace zayne #lads zayne #zayne fluff #zayne smut #zayne x you #zayne x reader #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace smut

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breekento · 10 months ago

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A lot of people describe and give Nanami and Higuruma the same character traits and personalities and while I do think they are similar in terms of overworked and tired men in suits, I think they are very different. (This is all my own head cannons don’t get mad at me)

Nanami, to me, at least is more quiet and reserved than Higuruma. He is more serious. Physically, he’s much more muscular and husky. As a partner I think he would be extremely protective and nurturing, always providing and nurturing. Although he is protective, I don’t think it comes from a place of jealousy but of a place of not wanting to lose you. Getting angry with you for forgetting to lock the door or inviting someone in that he didn’t know. I feel like he has very expensive and loud taste, I.e. the cowprint tie, the goggles, he has a very interesting style that has fun patterns and colors while still maintaining the mature and elevated appearance. I don’t think Nanami has a casual bone in his body when it comes to his clothing. Maybe his idea of “casual” would be slacks and a short sleeve button up. If anything, pajamas would be his only outfit that isn’t professional enough to wear to work. He just seems like the type of man to care about his appearance and always wanted to be perceived in a mature manner. I hate when people try to dress him in streetwear like that is not my man.

Higuruma is more sarcastic and goofy. I imagine him poking fun more than Nanami and having a very dry and sarcastic humor that a lot of people wouldn’t get. To me, I always imagine him as being more tall and lanky rather than muscular. Long legs, long arms, long fingers, just long. And you know what they say about skinny guys 🙈 As a partner I think he would be very romantic. I write him in my fics to be very dramatic about his love, like he would die if he couldn’t have you. He seems very all or nothing. I think his taste is more simple than Nanami’s. Wearing more classic suits and ties. I think Higuruma would dress much more casually than Nanami, even wearing jeans. Still very simple though, like denim, solid color tops and jackets that are well taken care of and styled. Maybe it’s the hair but I imagine him suiting a more “greaser” type aesthetic but with a classy twist like a silk white button up instead of a cuffed white short sleeve shirt.

I don’t know why I wrote this but I’ve been thinking about their similarities and differences for a minute now and just had to share.

#jjk #jjk nanami #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen #nanami x reader #nanamin #jujutsu kaisen higuruma #higuruma #higuruma hiromi #higuruma x reader

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kamaluhkhan · 11 months ago

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you are so gorgeous (it makes me so mad)

pairing: young!coryo snow x fem!reader

summary: clemensia dovecote has a theory that you and snow are destined for an enemies to lovers arc. you're sure it's completely, absolutely not true...right?

warnings: 18 + smut; biting + mention of blood ; both reader and snow are not the best ppl and have some very classist/elitist opinions

a/n: finally!! i wrote one of the ideas that has been haunting me ever since i've been back in my hunger games obsession + watched tbosbas...needless to say this will likely be a series inspired by taylor swift's reputation album. also i am so sorry this is unedited bc ofc it's 3am when i had the motivation to write this but i hope y'all enjoy ♡

i've had enemies so intense it felt like love, so mutual it felt romantic (chelsea hodson)

"what in the name of all the gods is he doing here?"

you're practically seething when coriolanus snow walks into your foyer. he's wearing an ensemble made with crisp white silk and intricately embroidered with gold thread - elegant, eventhough its silhouette would have been fashionable last year. a single white rose sits in the pocket of his jacket. he surveys the crowd, like he's calculating who's most worthy of his attention, platnium blond hair perfectly curled and practically glowing under the light of the chandelier. he looks beautiful, almost angelic.

you absolutely hate it.

"oh, i invited him," clemensia dovecote informs non-chalantly.

coriolanus makes eye contact with you from across the room, and you turn your head sharply to your best friend.

"why would you think it was okay to invite him?"

clemensia smiles mischeviously, grabbing two champagne flutes from a passing silver tray. she hands one to you.

"i know the two of you have your petty squabbles — "

"they are not petty, nor are they squabbles," you grumble, taking a sip of your drink.

your contempt towards coriolanus was perfectly reasonable and absolutely mutual. he had some ridiculous notion that snow had to land on top, that it was his right to be there instead of yours. your relationship, if you could call it that, was limited to nothing more than snide remarks, sarcastic comments, and scornful stares. you both hyperaware of the importance of keeping up appearances, but the older you got - the closer to life outside of the academy and the higher the stakes - the more any sense of civility between you two faded. just earlier this week, you'd gotten into such a heated debate about the best way to increase viewership for the upcoming 10th annual hunger games, that your professor excused you both from the class early due to the disruption. it seemed that no one knew how to make you burn with anger quite like coriolanus snow.

clemensia rolls her eyes. "whatever you want to call it, i actually think the two of you would get along if you really tried."

one of the things you admired - and, frankly, loathed - about clemensia was her determination to always prove herself right. she had this theory - one you would call ludicrous - that the tension between you and coriolanus had nothing to do with academics or status and everything to do with wanting to rip each other's clothes off.

your eyes catch coriolanus' icy blue ones again and you down the rest of your drink. obviously, clemensia was wrong about this. so, very wrong.

"well," you huff, setting your empty glass down on another silver tray that passes by. you brush invisible dust off your dress - a deep red lace, short and form fitting with exaggerated long sleeves - and add: "you'll be lucky if i invite you to my next party."

clemensia might have had the sense to apologize then, but you walked away before she had a chance.

you allow yourself to weave through the crowd, greeting every guest with an equal facade of enthusiasm and grace. you smile as brightly at one person as you do the next, showing off your newly bleached teeth and making sure that everyone feels special. silver trays of food and drinks appear and reappear throughout the crowd, being carried by nameless waiters. there's a table overflowing with gifts concealed by crisply folded wrapping paper - you expect at least half of them will be worthless.

you put up a good front, but soon enough your lipstick needs reapplying and your hair readjusting, so you briefly excuse yourself lest anyone notice a crack in your perfectly constructed image. the door to your room is slightly ajar, and you open it to reveal none other than the person you'd deliberately, but not so successfully, tried to ignore all night, his white silk shirt stained a dark crimson that happened to match your dress.

coriolanus was furious when he found out you'd invited the entire graduating class, except him, to your birthday party. you'd even invited sejanus. it wasn't that he particularly wanted to celebrate you, of all people. you were the most brilliant, biting, enfuriating person he knew, but to be excluded in such a way was insulting. when clemensia extended him the invite, he jumped at the chance to prove to everyone, to you, that he belonged here. tigris curated his outfit, and it would have been perfect had arachne crane, vapid creature she was and ever the lightweight, spilled an entire glass of red wine on him. he hurried away before anyone could see him in such a humiliating state. coriolanus is in the middle of calculating his options when you walk into what he now realizes is your bedroom.

you don't say a word at first. you haven't said one to him all night. instead, you close the door behind you and your eyes graze his figure.

"you show up to my party, late no less, and now you're parading around in what looks like a bloodstained shirt that is far too outmoded to be appropriate attire for this occasion," you remark, displaying that signature fierceness. "are you trying to ruin my birthday, snow?"

"don't blame me," coriolanus scoffs. his shoulders tense and he makes a point to stand up a bit straighter. "blame arachne for not being able to hold her alcohol while she's complaining about the food."

"oh?" you raise an eyebrow. "what did she say?"

"something about people in the districts having better options."

"vapid bitch," you mutter under your breath. you walk over to your closet, disappearing for a few seconds before bringing out a fresh shirt. you extend it to him, but he doesn't take it.

"i can't very well have a good time when one of my guests looks like he just got killed in the hunger games," you huff. "so either you put this on or your leave my party. now."

coriolanus holds your gaze, his jaw clenched, before giving in and taking the shirt from you. he goes to undo the buttons of his shirt, but stops when he notices that your eyes never leave him.

"some privacy would be nice," he says sharply.

you roll your eyes, muttering something about it being your house and your room, before sitting across the room at your vanity. as he undresses and throws his soiled shirt on the floor, coriolanus watches you closely. you meticulously apply lipstick, the shade of red almost as dark as your black nails.

you were attractive, there was no denying that, but ultimately dangerous. because you weren't carelessly cruel like arachne, nor did you wear your heart on your sleeve like sejanus. you didn't use your family's status as an excuse to avoid hard work like felix, nor were you a spineless know-it-all like clemensia. no, you were different from the rest. you had a fiery ambition and a sharp tongue, a wicked streak with just enough charisma to lure people in. sometimes when he thinks of you, coriolanus recalls stories his grandma'am once told him and tigress, about sea monsters who would tempt sailors with their bewitching voices and enchanting beauty, enticing them to risk everything - to jump into the ocean and never be relevant as anything more than a midnight snack. you were a constant, suffocating reminder of how quickly he could lose everything if he lost control, if he gave in.

coriolanus watches you set down the tube of lipstick before picking up a compact. you lightly brush the shimmery powder inside over your face to accentuate some of your gorgeous features.

the desire that burns throughout his body now has to be a side effect of the few glasses of liquor he managed to drink, allowing himself the appearance of having a good time alongside everyone else without losing control.

your eyes leave your reflection momentarily, and you finally catch coriolanus staring at you. you wink at him from across the room just as he's finished with the last button. the way you look at him makes the collar of his shirt feel tighter.

he can not give in....but what's the harm in admitting, just for one night, that he would let you drown him? devour him? beg on his knees to give you pleasure, and then thank you after the fact?

coriolanus clears his throat. "this feels wrong. i should be the one gifting you with a new shirt. it's your birthday, after all."

you let out a breathy laugh, setting down your makeup. you walk over to him, until there are only a few inches between you despite the vastness of your bedroom.

even you had to concede that coriolanus snow had such a gorgeous face for such a vicious person. you're infuriated by how elegant he looks now, in your shirt. your hands busy themselves in smoothing down his already perfect collar and you take note of the intensity of his heartbeat. you notice the way his jaw remains clenched, his posture stiff, his skin flushed. you realize that he must be trying so hard right now to retain his composure around you and you feel something that can only be described as triumph.

you smile at him, sickly sweet, and remove your hands from his body. "the best birthday present i could get is winning the plinth prize over you, snow. we both know you're not good enough, let alone better than me."

he hesitates slightly before responding.

"sorry, valerius. that's the one thing i can't give you. is there anything else you'd want from me?" he whispers, words dripping like honey.

"that depends, is there anything you want from me?"

he hums, moving his hand to cup your cheek. he begins to trace your lips with his thumb, ruining the look you had so meticulously crafted.

if only you knew.

"you're the birthday girl, sweetheart," he chides. "i'm supposed to be the one giving the gift. you do know how birthdays work, don't you?"

he's mocking you, you know that. he's trying to make you feel weak and small. you had the power a second ago, his heartbeat in the palm of your hand, and normally you wouldn't stand for him turning the tables. you'd push him away, storm out the door. but right now all you want is to tug on his perfect blond curls, to bite the smirk off his lips. maybe it's the way he's so close and can't seem to take his eyes off your lips or the calculated amount of wine you drank that's made your head a bit foggy, made you put your guard down. made you start to entertain the idea that maybe possibly clemensia's theory had some truth to it.

"why don't you surprise me?" you suggest.

coriolanus surges forward and kisses you with such ferocity, he might as well be a man starving. teeth on teeth on tongue. you instantly tangle your hands into his hair, pull on some curls just to see what he'd do. he retaliates by biting down on your bottom lip, hard enough that you taste the metallic tang of blood mixed with the remnants of honeyed wine on his lips. you whimper and pull away slightly. he holds your face firmly between his two hands, so you cannot go too far.

"sorry." but he smirks, and you know he doesn't really mean it.

eventually, you've both stumbled onto the bed half-naked. coriolanus positions himself above you, effectively caging you in with his arms and legs. you take note of his lean thighs, his bare torso with skin taut around his bones. you're almost taken aback by how frail he looks - like a malnourished teenager from one of the districts. you reach out to trace the outline of his ribs, your nails scraping against his skin, and he shudders. your hand moves lower, teasing the waistband of his underwear. he stops you before it slips underneath the material.

instead, coriolanus begins to indulge in his deepest fantasy. he kisses and sucks and bites down your body, his tongue trailing down your chest, over your breasts and around your nipples, across your stomach. he laps up your soft whines, the curses that tumble from your lips for him to do something more. you sink further into the silk sheets when he arrives between your thighs. you raise your hips, desperate to find any sort of relief, and you feel his nails dig into your hips.

"patience," he teases, his breath fanning over where you needed him most. "so needy." you could practically feel coriolanus roll his eyes.

"i swear to god snow, if you don't do something soon. i-i'll go find someone else to fuck me. felix, or maybe sejanus --"

you yelp when his teeth sink into your inner thigh. he looks up at you, eyes the darkest blue you've ever seen them.

"don't," coriolanus warns, and he gets back to work, lips actually arriving at where you needed them most.

after you've reached your high, he comes back up to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself. when he pulls away, you take note of how his lips and nose shine with remnants of you. the way he looks at you while he licks his lips shows you that he wants more. you move your hand down, and you're deeply satisfied when you feel him half hard, already sticky with his release.

"oh." you smirk. "you already finished."

his eyes widen, skin flushing pink. you could feel his heartbeat grow faster above you. you could imagine he was debating the best way to restore his dominance from before. yet, here he was, nothing but a horny teenage boy who came untouched as he was eating out his worst enemy. you find it in you to not call him pathetic, but instead decide, in your post-orgasm haze, you find it endearing.

"i-i didn't mean to, but --"

"i'm just that sexy when i cum," you suggest, running your hands through his curls to calm him down. "how about we try again, pretty boy?"

soon enough, he's sitting up with his back against your headboard and your legs wrapped around his waist, his length fully nestled into your warm cunt. coriolanus' blunt nails graze your hips, moving lower to your ass to guide you with each thrust. you love seeing him underneath you, seeming completely mesmerized by how your breasts bounce up and down in front of him. he leans forward to wrap his lips around your nipple, but you beat him to it. you bend forward and suck bruises onto his skin, everywhere and anywhere: underneath his chin, across his collarbone, where his neck meets his shoulder.

his moans are so loud, and you're sure he's not going to last much longer. you're also worried that some of the other party guests might catch you, so you pull his head away from your shoulder and crash your lips back onto to his. you swallow his moans as best you can, tongues fight for dominance, but he lets out a deep groan, and lets you win. you bite down on his bottom lip just as you reach your climax, causing him to let out a deep groan once more.

you gasp when he suddenly flips you over, pulls out of you and stokes himself a few times before painting your body with his release. coriolanus all but collapses on the bed beside you. you're both breathing heavily for a few moments, on your backs looking up at the ceiling, before he turns on his side towards you. coriolanus trails hs fingers down to your abdomen, sticky with his cum.

"i told you: snow lands on top."

"was that a joke, coryo?" you guffaw, genuinely surprised at the mischievous but playful glint in his eye. a bit surprised at yourself, too, for using his nickname that you'd so carefully avoided. you had to remind yourself that he was still the same coriolanus snow you'd grown to hate.

the boy tangled in the sheets beside you, his messy curls translucent under the light of your chandelier, his skin glowing with sweat and decorated with lipstick and rose-petal bruises. the boy who now smiles at you with dazzling blue eyes, leans closer and whispers:

"don't get used to it. it's a special occasion." coriolanus kisses you sweetly, and you shiver before he adds: "happy birthday."

this boy in bed with you now is the same manipulative, power hungry snake who would stab you in the back if need be. and, the truth of the matter is: you aren't much different, either.

you get up to grab his wine-stained shirt, use it to wipe off his release and toss it back down to the floor.

his eyes follow you the entire time, even as you come back to straddle him again. almost instantly, you feel him harden underneath you. you hold his head in your hands, kiss him deeply, tease his bottom lip between your teeth as you pull away.

"snow lands on top, huh? not for long, if i can help it."

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comatosebunny09 · 3 months ago

Text

international | sylus

summary: sylus likes to play dangerous games. today, you happen to be his rook piece. warning(s): female anatomy described, explicit language, dirty talk, bodily fluids, exhibitionism, reader's attire is described, profanity, blue balls of the female persuasion, praise kink now playing: devil's advocate - the neighbourhood notes: something i threw in @muvaginger's inbox. i'm sorry for my mind. thank you for reading, lovebugs.

Sylus, but calling you when you’ve just gotten off work.

“Are you home?” he asks, all husky on the other end. He knows you aren’t if the telltale shadow cast by a crow circling overhead is anything to go by.

“Not yet.”

“Well, get there.” Amusement resides in his voice. You have half a mind to tell him off for bossing you around like that. Like you don’t secretly enjoy it.

“Yeah, yeah. On my way.”

You hang up and shove your phone into your pocket. Put your helmet on, throwing your leg over your bike’s seat and settling on the cushion. Start it, the engine purring to life beneath you. After waving goodbye to Tara, you peel off, zipping through the energetic streets of Linkon towards your home.

Inside the lobby, your phone buzzes again. You roll your eyes, shoving your earpiece into your ear as you trudge through the lobby.

“What!” you grate out.

“Moving a little too slow there, kitten.”

If only you could punch him through the phone. You tamp down your anger, switching tactics. “What’s this about, anyway?”

He chuckles low and throaty, the sound of it prickling your brain. “Patience is a virtue.”

You scoff. “You’re one to talk.” Asshole, you add inwardly.

You catch the elevator to the floor where your apartment resides. Slide your key in, easing through the door into your entryway. Barely have time to set your keys down before a sharp rapping snaps your attention to the door.

“Open it,” Sylus orders.

Hesitant, you pivot towards it. Fingers twitch near your hip where your gun’s holstered. Slowly, you reach for the handle, mindful of your steps.

A soft laugh rings in your ear.

“Easy, sweetheart. It’s not an ambush. If I wanted to off you, I would’ve done so by now.”

“I never know with you,” you clip back, turning the doorknob.

After mentally counting to three, you throw the door open and peek outside. Silence and an empty hallway greet you. You glance left and right. Up and down the hall until a large, crimson box catches in your peripheral, seated on your doormat. You fetch it, admiring the black ribbon intricately wrapped around it.

“What’s this?” you query, kicking your door shut once you’re back inside.

“A gift.”

“Another one?”

His tone swims with nonchalance. “What can I say? I enjoy spoiling you rotten.”

You test the weight of the box. Shake it, hearing tissue paper and something heavy stir inside.

“Open it.”

You oblige. Tear the ribbon and top off, eyes curiously raking over the box’s contents. Inside is a long, black trench coat. Beneath that rests a long-sleeved, silk blouse. Deeper still lies a simple miniskirt, and you test its material between your fingers. It all looks and feels incredibly expensive despite its simplicity.

“Put it on,” Sylus instructs through the stillness.

“What? Why?”

“Because you have a train to catch in—” A brief pause. “One hour.”

“What the fuck? A train? An hour? Sylus—”

“Time is ticking, sweetie.”

The phone clicks with his exit.

You throw the clothes onto your couch, scrutinizing them over folded arms, chewing your lip. It’s 50 degrees out. Where the hell does he think you’re going dressed like this? Does he plan to use you as bait or something?

Your phone buzzes again on your coffee table. You fetch it to see a QR code for a train ticket sitting in your inbox.

“Shit,” you hiss, scrambling for your bathroom to shower. He’s serious. There really is no time to spare.

He’d better have a good reason for being so cryptic.

—

“The second to last car,” he husks in your ear. “Meet me there in five.”

Your lips contort into a scowl. You rip your earpiece out, wending through the train’s other passengers to pursue your goal.

In the corners of your vision, the scenery outside the windows eases by. Greenery nestled beneath the snow, somewhere remote. It’s beautiful. You take time to admire the sights before finding your way to the second to last car.

The door slides shut behind you. It’s quiet, save for the occasional rumble of the train upon the tracks. The passengers here are sparse. It’s a luxury cabin, decked with armchairs, faux plants, and an expensive carpet.

You survey the area, spotting an unmistakable thatch of white nestled in the rear seat. Try to mask your giddiness as you make your way towards the back. It’s been a few days since you’ve last seen him.

Wordlessly, he motions to the seat across from him when you venture to his side, wearing that customary smirk. You plop down, folding your arms. Bite back a smile of your own, favoring a frown.

“What’s this all about?”

Sylus leans back in an easy slouch, and the way he manspreads makes your mouth water. He peers down at you from his nose, draping a long arm over the headrest of his seat. His turtleneck and coat do little to disguise the power of his body. The tendons in his neck dance. Jaw flexes. He motions to your lap with a flick of his gaze.

“Touch yourself,” he rasps.

Your eyes grow comically wide. “Excuse me?!” you hiss, mindful of your volume. Look around to ensure no one’s the wiser to your conversation. No hello. No I’ve missed you. No preamble whatsoever.

His smug look doesn’t waver. “Don’t make me repeat myself, sweetheart.” There’s an underlying edge to his voice. One that doesn’t leave room for argument. Still, you contest him.

“Sylus, there are people here!”

That enraged whisper thing you do—it’s endearing.

Sylus’ eyes darken with something sinister. He hasn’t stopped watching you since the moment you sat down. Hasn’t stopped raking his eyes over your honeysuckle thighs, your hips.

“They can watch,” he drawls with an innocent shrug.

“Sylus!”

“Sweetie, I’m not asking.” Though he bears an expression of amusement, you can tell he means business. Consequences typically follow when you don’t heed him. Delicious consequences.

You swallow thickly. Sylus’ silhouette blurs as you survey the car over his shoulder. There are at least three other passengers here, all seated near the door you came through. More than enough distance between you. Your lover bleeds back into focus, his brow raised in challenge.

With a weighted sigh, you shift to make yourself more comfortable. Loosen the tie of your coat, drawing it open whilst easing your hips forward. Hesitantly spread your legs, feeling Sylus’ optics tuned to your every move. Something hot and sticky has already begun to gather in your panties, and your nipples tighten beneath the frail silk of your blouse.

He cutely cocks his head to the side when you hesitate. Eyes narrow. “What’s wrong, sweetie,” he croons all low. You feel it coiling in your stomach. “Scared?”

You cut your eyes to him, mouth drawn into a tight line. Of course you are. You’ve never done anything like this. He’s introduced you to all kinds of things. Uncovered fantasies lurking deep in your mind. Discovered all the erogenous zones on your body you never knew you housed, but—

Exhibitionism is new. Dangerous. And somehow, the thought of it makes you wetter.

“Go on,” he soothes. Encourages, irises dipping into a mysterious shade of garnet.

Your body moves of its own volition, spellbound. Thighs part a little more, hands smoothing over plump flesh. You sigh out, leaning back as you drag your nails over the inner curve of your thighs, bunching your skirt up towards your hips. A little more enthusiastic now, teasing your swollen outer labia with the knuckles of your thumbs.

Sylus’ mouth parts slightly. His gaze flickers downward, entranced by the show and the soft hitch of your breath. He looks back into your eyes, clicking his tongue in discovery. Reaches out a sizable hand, leaning towards you with his elbows digging into the pockets of his knees.

“Panties. Take them off.”

Your tummy sparkles with heat. He quirks a brow. He’s serious. It’s not enough to touch yourself like this in public. He wants you bare and exposed, staining the armchair with your heat.

Without a word, you shimmy out of your underwear. Thin and frill as they slide down your calves, over your ankles to pool at your feet. You compliantly deposit them into his hand. A bitten-off growl brews in his chest. He falls back against his seat, stuffing your panties into his coat’s inner pocket for safekeeping. Signals for you to keep going, fully invested in this game.

You repeat the process from before. And it’s a new sensation now, the crisp air of the train car kissing your sticky pussy. You try to think of other things. Try to distract yourself from the smolder of his gaze and how it makes your body hum and your mind fill with smoke.

You think about his fingers instead of yours, stroking down the slit of your pussy. His fingers rubbing at the hood of your clitoris, drawing it back to stroke your pretty, swollen clit. His thumbs sliding over your nipples, causing your back to arch, his tongue laving at the space behind your ear…

Your hips stutter. You stifle a moan. Sylus slides in and out of focus, your vision fogging around the corners. He chuckles amorously, shifting in his seat. “Don’t stop,” he nurtures, eyes burning like a feverish flame. His dick sits heavy in his slacks, slowly hardening and twitching.

You salivate. Knowing that he’s enjoying this as much as you gradually are—fuck. You bite your lip, propping your leg on the chair’s arm. Spread nice and wide for him, your pussy on full display.

You rut against your fingers, your face screwed up in rapture. Legs quiver each time the pads of your fingers bump your messy clit. You construct a rhythm that’s maddeningly slow and torturous. Feel that sparkling rush lazily pooling between your thighs, but it’s not enough. Wanna be filled and stuffed to the brim with cum.

His cum.

A glimpse at Sylus reveals something that makes you throb. He’s touching himself. Humping into the palm of his hand, hot and weighted through the thick layers of his clothes. Fuck. You pulse.

“Syl,” you sob quietly, wetly, wantonly. “Syl, please—”

“Use your fingers,” he breathes all ragged. “Inside.” Angles his head back until it thumps against the headrest. Doesn’t look away, still rucking his hips up into the heel of his palm like the slow undulation of a wave.

You indulge, circling the pucker of your pussy with your fingers. Steadily work one inside, and you sigh, tossing your head back. Caress your tits with your free hand, plucking your nipples to their peaks as you drive your finger in and out. The lewd, squelching sounds you make as you torture yourself causes your walls to clench down.

Sylus’ voice crackles, pouring through the fizzy haze that’s settled over you.

“One more. You can take one more, can’t you, sweetie?”

You moan at how his voice oozes like warm milk and honey. You’re obedient, gradually adding another, pumping in and out. A thick ring of cream collects around your knuckles. It’s still not enough. Never enough.

“That’s my girl,” he lauds, relief in his timbre. “So good for me. So, so good.”

“Sylus,” you sob, fucking yourself a little faster. Wish it were him instead, filling you up and pumping you with the briny edge of his cum. There’s a warm fluid trickling down your leg. Heat spooling in your tummy.

He greedily ingests the sight of you fucking yourself, groaning hoarsely. You’re so close to spilling over the edge, so close to losing yourself to an orgasm. And you would—

If not for the sound of footfalls nearing your position.

“Shit!” you hiss, snapping your legs shut. Work your skirt into some semblance of neatness, throwing your coat over your legs. Your cheeks and neck are aflame, pulse pounding in your throat, pussy throbbing.

You don’t make eye contact as the gentleman passes, too busy looking at your fingers in your lap. He’s none the wiser to the goings on in your section—or, at least, he acts like he isn’t—as he bows with a small smile, slipping through the door behind. Sylus tracks his every move, and if looks could kill…

Your heart thrums heavily in your ears. You caution a glance at your boyfriend, taking in his flushed cheeks, his heaving chest. He’d thrown his coat over his lap to disguise the monster pressing against the seam of his trousers.

You lock eyes. His lips pull into a scowl as he sits up, pitching himself forward. Cants his head to one side, voice abrasive and low.

“Did I tell you to close your fucking legs?”

A thrill racks through you. It’s rare that he curses, only sullying his tongue when he’s upset or too far gone. It turns your stomach to a primordial ooze. Without warning, Sylus gathers himself up, snatching your wrist along with him.

You stumble like a baby fawn to your feet, gazing into those eyes that dwindle like liquid spilled over burning coals.

“We aren’t done here, sweetheart,” he promises with a tense jaw. Tugs you from your seat and down the aisle, all the while fishing for something in his pocket. A quick glance reveals a barcode, and a number printed in bold letters on a bit of plastic. A keycard. The sneaky little…

He peers at you over his shoulder as you both maneuver through the throng of passengers in the remaining cars, back towards the front. Your features warm with a smile. Legs tingle.

You weren’t aware that this train had sleeper cars, but you’re grateful to know it does. Your body buzzes with the prospect of what’s to come. He’s not done with you, indeed.

hair down | masterlist | nuisance

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus imagine #sylus smut #sylus qin #lnds smut

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dailyfanficsx · 4 months ago

Text

NSFW

Nurturer: Aemond x Reader

Summary: Aemond is looking for you while he’s in a grumpy mood and it turns into a moment of vulnerability.

(authors note: i got this idea from last weeks episode just my little twist on it. a little bit of nsfw content towards the end)

Aemond looks out the window with a frown. He huffed as he felt himself growing incredibly frustrated. Where was she? He had a lot of patience, but for this he had none. A man as powerful as him shouldn’t be left wondering where his lady wife was. It was disrespectful. He began pacing around. His eye scanning the room. He had to busy himself or else he’d explode. He sat down on the bed. His fingers playing with the silk pillowcases. He huffed once more, his eyes glancing out of the window as he waited.

You finally walk in. Your long curls in a ponytail and wearing a long sleeved burgundy dress. Aemond glanced at the wedding ring on your finger but you weren’t wearing the necklace that he gifted you. That he specifically told you to wear whenever you went anywhere without him. You place your books down and gasps softly as you finally see him sitting by the window.

“Aemond, what are you doing here” You ask softly. You usually didn’t see him much until after his meetings for the day.

Aemond stands up quickly, he steps to you. He looks you up and down. He gently grabs you chin, lifting your face, so you’ll look at him.

“Where have you been, dear wife?” He said with a stern, almost cold tone. He gripped your chin gently. His eyes raking over your body. Your curves in that red dress. Your hair in that ponytail. Your sweet plump lips.

“In the library” you say softly confused at his stern tone looking into his cold eye.

Aemond’s eye narrows. “In the library” he repeated in a low voice. He let go of your chin as he looked down at you with a mixture of annoyance and a hint of something else.

“And you couldn’t bother to wear my necklace?” He said bluntly, his eye looking at your bare neck.

“I forgot it, I was in a rush” you say softly. You were used to his temper. The way he would act so possessive over you. You walk over to sit on the bed hoping he would follow.

Aemond rolled his eye at your excuse. He followed you to the bed and sat down beside you. He gently grabbed your wrists and pulled you against him. His large hand rested on your thigh as he looked down at you.

“You know how I feel about you not wearing it, darling…” He said in an annoyed tone.

“I will remember next time” you say softly as you look up at him. You could tell something else was wrong with your husband. He was never here this early.

“Lay with me” you say softly as you caressed his face.

Aemond’s face softened as he felt your hand upon his cheek. He let you pull him down to the bed, and he laid down beside you. His body half on top of yours. He pulled you closer into him. His big arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him. Despite his cold and stern demeanor, he was quite affectionate with you. He buried his face into you. Inhaling your scent. He was silent for several moments, debating on if he should talk to you about the other matter that was bothering him. You wait patiently for him to speak, knowing it took time with him. You slowly help him undo his armor. Until he lays completely bare and you pull the covers over you two.

He watches you silently as you remove his armor and eyepatch. He reaches over to your hair, gently pulling the ribbon holding the ponytail in place. He lets your hair go free, running his hand through the soft curls. He lays back down into the bed. Pulling you to lay beside him. He gently kisses your forehead. Aemond’s arm is tight around you. He is silent once more. He is enjoying this quiet moment with you, yet the thought that’s been bothering him ever since you returned is still there.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him as you look into his one eye caressing his long silver hair.

Aemond let you caress him, enjoying the feeling of your hand on his skin. He huffed as you ask him what’s wrong. His eye darkening at the thought of his brother and his teasing right before he came to your chambers. He pulled you even closer to him.

“Aegon being an annoying prick as usual…..more than usual.” Aemond says bluntly in a tone that’s dripping with annoyance.

Aemond lays with you for a moment and thinks about what just happened in the study with his brother. The mention of his trauma and childhood were not things he wanted to think of. They were scars that he tried to forget. Yet Aegon always seemed to find a way to bring them up.

“He has no right to tease me. But you know that it doesn’t stop him.” He says. He looked at you with a tired expression. He was frustrated.

Aemond’s expression softens as he stares into your eyes. He let out a deep sigh as you saw the sadness written all over his face. He knew hiding his feelings from you was pointless. He gently cups your face and runs his thumb over your cheek.

“The things he was saying have been lingering in my mind. It is quite annoying honestly” He says quietly.

“You cannot let it bother you anymore…he has no real power over you…at least not anymore” You say softly trying to console him.

Aemond’s jaw clenches at your words. He didn’t like being reminded of how he was just a boy who was teased and bullied. About not having any power.

“I know he has no real power anymore, but that doesn’t change the fact that it happened….the taunting….losing an eye….and the women he used to make me lay with….” Aemond said quietly with disdain, his thoughts trailing off.

You nod gently understanding. “Let me comfort you now” You say to him.

Aemond’s eyes softened at your words. He wanted nothing more than your comfort. He pulled you close. His arms wrapped around you tightly. He buried his face into your shoulder.

“Please.” He mumbled. He was a strong, dangerous man. A dangerous man who desired your comfort and love like a small child.

He unwraps your dress and let it fall just to your hips. Aemond pulls you closer and practically buries his face into your chest. His arms wrapped around you tightly. His face buried into your soft skin. He drank you in. His lips kissing your chest. He felt soothed by your presence. In this moment, he was vulnerable and needy. He desperately needed your comfort.

He let out a content, shaky sigh as he latched onto you. He buried his face between your chest, his nose buried so deep in your skin he could faintly smell the scent of some of your favorite oils that you had on. He kissed some more before making way to your small erect nipple. He latched onto it greedily. He practically suckled on your skin like a small boy.

He felt a mixture of comfort and embarrassment at his own vulnerability. He knew he was supposed to be strong. Like a dragon. Yet there he was, practically feeding from your chest like a lost child. He could feel his cheeks heating up but he didn’t care. Your comfort was soothing his troubled mind and body. He looked up at you with his one eye, his voice still muffled from his face being buried in your chest.

“Thank you…” He mumbled quietly

He closes his eye gently as he went back to suckling. He pushed you back onto the sheets so that you could lay comfortably as he remained latched onto you, fulfilling his need for comfort and nurturing.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond smut #aemond x y/n

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mountainsandmayhem · 6 months ago

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Just One More, Baby

18+, Minors Do Not Interact Pairing: Pleasure!Dom Pike x Female!Reader Word Count: 2.8k Summary: Just a casual evening with your pleasure dom husband and as many as orgasm as he thinks you can handle. There is zero plot here, people. CW: so many orgasms, light bondage, temperature play, use of pet names (baby, honey, etc.) praise kink (obviously, unless you're new here. In that case; hi, welcome, I have a praise kink), aftercare AN: I need this man more than I need food or oxygen or money. I'm out of my mind over him and I curse the day I decided to watch these random ass episodes of The Mentalist. Friendy reminder that I am phasing out my tag list, so please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates and turn on the notifications to stay up to date. Thank you so much for reading, where's my Pike Army? XO Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

The warm oil drizzles over your mound, spreading across your hips and cunt. You let out a pained hiss when it hits your sore and overstimulated clit.

“Ouuchh,” you whine, your breathing shudders.

“You’ve been such a good girl,” Marcus murmurs, watching the oil as it beads and rolls in every direction. “Just relax.”

You close your eyes and try to steady your breathing. Relaxing the muscles in your arms and legs that have been pulling at the soft silk restraints for god knows how long as Marcus pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you.

He is still dressed, he had only managed to remove his suit jacket and tie before he started. He has the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled to his elbows, still tucked into the dark blue dress pants you picked up from the dry cleaner yesterday. His belt is still on, too, shoes toed off at some point during his slow torture.

You, on the other hand, are completely naked. A delicate, white silk tie around your wrists that is then looped through the headboard, stretching your arms above your head. Your ankles are held much in the same way, one tie on each ankle, keeping your legs spread wide.

He’s used every means available to him to make you come tonight; fingers, tongue, your small purple vibrator, a dildo, or a combination of one or two of those things. He’s done everything except fuck you. At some point you lost count of the orgasms, lost track of when one would end and the next would start.

The oil starts to soothe the dull ache he’s caused at the apex of your thighs. Marcus’s intention is never to cause you pain, but tonight you learned that too much pleasure can feel like torture.

You let out a content sigh, muscles going gooey and pliant. “There’s my girl,” he says proudly, his strong hands coming to your hips, his thumbs needing the muscles along the crevice of your leg and pelvis.

He clears his throat gently. “I think I counted sixteen.”

You smirk and let out a small giggle, eyes still closed as you relax into his touches. He kisses the plush skin along your lower belly. His soft velvety lips are gentle, granted Marcus Pike is always gentle. Yes, he’ll tie you down or make you orgasm so many times you black out, but he’s always soft and warm. Always asking for permissions. Always explaining exactly what’s going to happen before it does - not that you have an option, or want an option if you’re being honest.

“Baby girl?” He mumbles, his breath hitting the oil, warming your most sensitive spots. You shudder, an icy shiver running down your spine at the feel of him. “Think we can get you to twenty?”

His hands move to massage the tops of your thighs, thumbs crawling closer and closer to your pussy. Your clit twitches at the promise of him giving you another orgasm, that blissful tingle causes the tired and overworked walls of your cunt to flutter. Pleasure followed by a dull painful ache waves across your center and mix of a whine and whimper fills the room.

“What’s the matter, baby?”

His thumbs come to carefully pull apart your puffy outer lips. Watching intently as the oil coats your glistening folds. A moan rumbled in his chest, “Beautiful.”

“I’m sensitive, Marcus,” you murmur, pulling at the silk ties he has your hands bound above your head with.

“I know, this perfect little pussy has taken so much. And you’ve been so brave and submissive. I’m so proud of you, honey.” He places a light kiss on the patch of hair right above your clit.

Your orgasm happens so quickly and without him even touching you. A lustful gasp leaves your lips as you shake under him. His voice is full of lustful admiration as he says, “Good job, baby.”

Your muscles tense, hands fisting, as the orgasm rolls through you. You whine his name, equally desperate for the orgasm to end but also for it to never stop. “Just relax, that’s my good girl.”

“Oh god,” your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath.

“Look at me, darling.” Marcus said sweetly, the soft pads of his thumbs running up and down the slick lips of your pussy.

You look down at him, the soft expression of his face riddling you with emotions. You can feel the tears prickle behind your eyes. Tears of what you aren’t sure. Happiness, that’s for sure. But also a sense of overwhelm and insatiable need, it’s all mixed together. You can stop it, a hot tear runs down your flushed cheek.

“It’s ok. I’m right here,” He says softly. “You can do this, baby. Just three more, then I’ll run you a bubble bath and give you my sweat pants and all the cuddles. Can you do that? Can you give me three more?”

“No,” you say through a shaky breath. He’s trying to kill you, you’re sure of it. And while death by orgasm might sound like a great way to go, your pussy is aching and tired.

His thumbs stop their ministrations.

“Do you need to use your safe word?”

You shake your head, “No.”

He lowers his mouth to your swollen clit, lightly feathers his tongue over the tender bundle of nerves. You pull so hard on the restraints that the delicate silk snaps and your hands card through his hair, pulling him back. He has you on that paper thin line of pain and pleasure, but the slight attention to your puffy clit slices through you. “Nonono - please stop.”

“Do you need to use your safe word?” He asks again.

You shake your head no.

“Do you need me to go get some ice? Make my tongue nice and cold, then make your pussy feel better?”

“Yes, please.” You pout, sticking out your bottom lip.

Marcus stands and removes his belt. “Ok baby, but first, my naughty little girl broke her restraints. Arms up.”

You put your arms back above your head and he expertly loops the belt around your wrists. He leaves the scraps of silk that are still around your delicate wrists and then wraps the belt around the headboard.

He stands beside the bed, looking down at you hungrily. “Fuck, I could torture you for hours,” his eyes flick to the alarm clock across the from you and then back to your flushed face. Smirking a little, he corrects himself. “I already have been, so I guess I should say that I will never be sick of seeing you like this. So submissive and sweet. Listening to my every word. Teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure. You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

He runs the back of his hand down your cheek, you keen into his touch and smile at him. “Yes, I’m a good girl, Marcus.”

He bends down, kissing your forehead and then the tip of your nose before he walks out of the bedroom. You look him up and down, so sexy in his dress pants and white dress shirt, his strong, veiny forearms on display. You had no idea what you were in for when he ditched the tie and suit jacket the moment he walked in the door tonight. But you knew that look. When frustration etched his eyebrows and a hunger flashed in his eyes. You knew he needed an escape, and you knew it came in the form doing exactly as he says.

Marcus grabs a small bowl and fills it with ice from the freezer. He grabs you a bottle of water and then pops an ice cube in his mouth, letting the frozen water melt on his tongue as he walks back up the stairs. As he re-enters the bedroom he sees you lying there - spread eagle and arms bound, eyes closed peacefully, long lashes resting on your cheeks. Your swollen tits rise and fall, nipples hard and slightly purple from the rose gold clamps he had on them earlier. You look sinful and delicious. He meant what he said, he could do this to you forever and never get sick of it. But as your pleasure dom he knows he’s going to have to stop soon. The folds of your pussy are puffy and red, he sucks the ice cube harder, making it small enough so he can speak.

“Goddamn,” it comes out as groan. “You’re so fuckin beautiful.”

You flutter your eyes open, “So are you.”

You swear he blushes as a shy smile crosses his face. “I’m going to make it all better now, baby. I’m going to use my mouth to make you come again now. My tongue is nice and cool, it should help with that ache.”

He puts the water on the bench at the foot of the bed and then climbs between your legs, placing the bowl of ice on the bed beside your hip. “Are you ready, baby girl?”

You gulp before whispering, “Yes.”

His cold tongue licks a slow, flat, languid line from your entrance to your clit. The cooler temperature of his mouth soothes the burning heat between your thighs.

“Mmmm - Th-thank you, Marcus,” you hum as he repeats the motion with his tongue two, three, four more times.

He grabs a new ice cube and pops it in his mouth. As he sucks on it, he grabs a second cube and runs it down the right outer lip of your cunt. He hushes you as you cry out and then does the same thing to the left side. The cube in his mouth has melted enough now for him to continue tasting you. He places the flat of his tongue on your clit and presses down, his hand with the ice cube comes to your right nipple. Ice starts to combat the fire in your veins, and as he trails the ice cube around your nipple, his tongue mirrors the pattern on your swollen nub.

And then it happens again. For the eighteenth time tonight, your orgasm hits you out of nowhere. Your convulse under his cold tongue and as quickly as the orgasm starts it’s over. You’d think after coming this many times in the last two hours that you’d be satisfied and exhausted, but the quickness of that last one leaves you wanting more.

He stills his tongue and lets you grind on him, the ice cube he was trailing along your body has melted. He grabs a fresh one and traces it along your body as you shamelessly hump your husband’s face.

He brings the ice cube to rest right above your mound, the cold water running down your folds, causing you to hiss as it hits your clit.

Marcus pulls his tongue away quickly to say, “Come on, baby.” He lays his tongue out for you again and you push your hips into him harder.

“Fuckfuckfuck - Marcus, I - I’m, oh fuuuuuck.”

He slips the ice cube between his tongue and your cunt and you shatter around him.

“Oh god, mmmmm, yes.” Your voice is hoarse, throat dry from the combination of your rapid breathing and incoherent ramblings throughout the night.

He stays still, letting you control your nineteenth orgasm. His name spills from your lips as you circle your hips. The walls of your pussy clench and release around nothing, slowly and deeply, over and over. Sparks of pleasure light behind your eyes.

“Marcus. Yesyes - oh my god,” your legs start to tremble as you come down the other side of the most intense orgasm you’ve had so far tonight.

“Good girl,” he whispers, kissing up your hip bone to your stomach, your navel to your sternum, the swell of your breasts to your neck, and finally your lips. “You’re doing so well, baby. Just one more. Can you do just one more for me?”

You strain your neck to press your lips to his again. Kissing him deeply and slowly. “One more,” you mumble into his lips.

“I’m going to untie you for this one. I want to feel your fingers tug at my hair as I suck on that perfect little clit while pushing my fingers against that little spot inside of you that drives you absolutely wild. Is that ok, little one?”

“Mmm,” you hum. Mischievously adding, “Yes, daddy.”

Marcus laughs flirtatiously as he releases your wrists from his belt and the torn silk ties. “Are you okay, baby?”

You nod as he guides your arms down and then situates himself between your soft, plush thighs, sitting back on his heels.

“Do you need a drink?” He asks, grabbing the water from the foot of the bed.

“Yes, please.”

He cracks the lid and then helps you sit, guiding the bottle to your lips. You sip a little, the cool water soothes your throat. Marcus’s brown eyes bore into you, soothing the rest of your body. “One more, baby,” he whispers.

You hum in agreement before lying back down in the bed. Marcus leaves your ankles restrained as he unbuttons his dress shirt and then tosses it on the floor. You eye his hard chest and slightly soft belly, a line of dark hair that starts at his navel and travels down to his cock, which is rock hard under his dress pants.

He gives you a shy closed lip smile, “Do you need to use your safe word?”

“No,” you say breathily.

Marcus grabs an ice cube and holds it in his fist, his lips coming to place lingering kisses on your clit. Making out with one of his favourite parts of you. Kissing and kissing, occasionally running his tongue along it before kissing you deeply again.

Once the ice cube in his hand has melted, he teases at your entrance with two cold fingers. You cry out, as pushes them all the way in and then he curls them forward, turning you into a moaning mess. You wrap your fingers into his hair like he asked, holding his face against you.

“That’s my girl,” he says between kisses. “So good for me.”

He sucks your clit into his mouth, pumping his fingers against your g spot. A pained cry passes your lips, “aah, it hurts.”

“I know, baby. You’re so close.” He whispers encouragingly, pausing the suckling on your clit, keeping his fingers still.

“I - I can’t.”

“You can do it, baby. You’re almost there. I can feel you clenching me.” He curls his fingers forward slowly. “Come on, my love.”

“M - Marcus. It hurts, baby. I can’t. I can’t.” You whimper.

“Relax, baby.” His free hand presses on your lower belly and the pressure behind your navel becomes nearly unbearable. “That’s it, fuck baby. I can feel her fluttering for me. Can feel your orgasm building. You’re amazing, did you know that? Give me number twenty, pretty girl.”

You whimper again, willing your body to relax. Willing for the dull painful ache to blossom into pleasure.

“Good girl. Just relax,” he presses down on your stomach harder, his fingers still cold inside you as they tickle against the front wall of your pussy.

You tighten your grip in his hair and he hisses at the pain in his scalp before bringing his lips back to your clit. He sucks it into his mouth loudly, lewd sucking noises filling the room, only interrupted by your mumbles of building pleasure.

He releases your clit, “Let go for me.”

With a final steadying breath it hits you. Your last orgasm sashes over, erasing every thought until all you are is the pleasure Marcus gives you. Your abused pussy flutters weakly around his fingers as he pumps them inside of you. You gasp and squeal as your body breaks out in goosebumps, but simultaneously glistens with a fresh sheen of sweat.

Marcus slows his fingers and looks up at you through his lashes. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers in awe as the involuntary full body twitching of your orgasm starts to slow.

“So…” he kisses your mound.

“...Very…” he stops his fingers and kisses your hip.

“...Beautiful,” he starts to slowly slip his fingers out and your body goes slack.

You lay there panting, trying to catch your breath and find your muscles. Marcus unties your ankles and climbs beside you, pulling you into him and tucking your head into his neck.

“I love you,” he murmurs into your hairline, kissing you softly. “You did so well for me. Twenty orgasms. My good girl.”

You roll into him tighter and wince when your thighs squeeze together.

“Aw, baby. Is she sore?”

You pull back to be able to look at him. “A little, yeah.”

“Come here,” he pulls you closer. “Just let me hold you a little and then I’ll run you that bubble bath I promised.”

“Will you come in with me?” You ask sleepily.

Marcus laughs gently, “Of course. Whatever my baby wants.”

You nuzzle deeper into his skin and let your eyelids close. Completely and utterly surrounded by your beautiful husband.

#pedro #pedrohub #pedro is daddy #zaddy pedro #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus pike x you #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike smut #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x female reader #pleasure dom #pleasuredom!Marcus pike

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novaursa · 3 months ago

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Chasing the Inferno

- Summary: It was during Rhaenyra’s and Laenor’s wedding feast, that the king noticed something he was blind to for far too long.

- Paring: targ!reader/Harwin Strong

This whole work is inspired by this brilliant anonymous ask:

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, has striking resemblance to her late grandmother Alyssa and is younger sister of Rhaenyra. These events happen after The Flames We Hide. To read all the chapters in chronological order, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 3 532

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The evening air carries the scents of roasted meats, spiced wine, and fresh flowers into the grand hall, mingling with the vibrant sounds of revelry. The hall is a living tapestry of silks, banners, and candlelight, casting everything in hues of crimson and gold. A sea of finely dressed lords and ladies flows beneath the arched ceiling, the thrumming heart of the grand wedding feast of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon.

You arrive with the grace and splendor expected of a Targaryen princess, a vision that commands the attention of every eye that lands on you. The dress you wear is a rich deep plum, the color of ripened plums at dusk, lined with golden thread that shimmers in the light. The sleeves are long and bell-shaped, flowing with each movement, while the bodice is tightly laced with intricate embroidery of dragons in flight. Around your neck, a delicate chain bears a pendant of a dragon curled around a glittering ruby—a gift from your father. Your silver hair is braided in intricate patterns, falling down your back with hints of shimmering ribbons intertwined through each strand.

You sit beside Rhaenyra at the high table, your twin sister glowing with happiness under her finely woven veil. She leans toward you with a playful smirk. “I see you’ve decided to steal the attention for yourself tonight, Y/N. Not even the newlywed princess is safe from your charms.”

You laugh softly, returning her smirk. “It’s not stealing, dearest sister, merely borrowing for the evening.” Your eyes flick toward the bustling crowd, scanning the faces, seeking a particular one even as you engage in idle conversation.

You find him across the hall—Ser Harwin Strong, the Breakbones, the man who has captured your heart in ways you would never openly admit. His broad shoulders and easy smile cut a striking figure amidst the revelers. He leans against a pillar, eyes fixed on you with a heat that makes your pulse quicken. Even from here, you can feel the intensity of his gaze, the unspoken challenge in those dark eyes. A smirk pulls at your lips. Tonight is not just about celebrating your sister’s marriage—it is a dance, a game of fire and shadow that you and Harwin have played many times before.

As the feast progresses, the lords and ladies rise from their seats, drawn to the center of the hall where the dancing begins. You stand, gracefully gliding down the steps, the train of your gown trailing like liquid night behind you. Many lords vie for your attention, each more eager than the last to have the honor of a dance with the daughter of the King.

You indulge them—one by one, offering your hand with a practiced smile that promises nothing but amusement. Lord Beesbury twirls you first, his steps light but unremarkable. Lord Tyrell is next, his flattery sweet yet forgettable. Each time the music swells, you shift, gliding seamlessly into the arms of another suitor, all while casting sly glances over your shoulder to see if Harwin is watching.

And he is. His eyes never leave you, following every step, every spin, the set of his jaw tightening each time you turn away just as he moves closer. You can feel his impatience building like a storm, the tension of the game heightening with every dance.

Finally, after what feels like endless teasing, you find yourself caught in a whirl of movement, spinning until you are only steps away from him. Harwin’s expression is a mix of hunger and frustration as he makes his move to claim you at last.

But just as his hand reaches for yours, you slip away, turning instead into the arms of a young knight from the Westerlands, offering him a dazzling smile that is only for show. “My, Ser Harwin, are you growing weary of this dance already?” you tease, your voice lilting as you catch his gaze. You can see the fire in his eyes, a silent vow that he will not let you slip away so easily next time.

When the dance ends, the Westerlander knight bows low, eyes filled with admiration as he releases you. And as you turn, Harwin is there—closer than before, a step ahead of any other. This time, you do not pull away when his hand grasps yours, his grip firm and warm, sending a shiver down your spine. His voice is low, rough with suppressed desire, as he murmurs into your ear. “Do you truly believe you can keep running from me, Y/N?”

You tilt your head, lips curving into a smirk as you meet his gaze fully, violet and brown heat clashing. “Run, Ser Harwin? I am only leading the chase.”

Without giving him the satisfaction of a response, you spin away from him, the hem of your dress sweeping across the floor as you are swallowed back into the crowd. You glance back over your shoulder just long enough to catch the frustration in his expression before disappearing into the throng of lords and ladies once more. Harwin will catch you like he always does—of that you have no doubt. The thrill is in making him work for it.

But for now, the game continues, and you savor every moment of it.

The night is young, and so are you—dragon-blooded and bold, playing with fire and reveling in the heat that comes with it.

The music swells, a lively tune that fills the hall with mirth and energy, but it does little to settle the unease that creeps into King Viserys’ chest. Seated at the high table, he holds a goblet of wine, though he has barely touched it. His gaze drifts from one side of the room to the other, watching the mingling guests, the lords and ladies spinning in intricate dances. Yet his eyes keep returning to the center of the hall, where Rhaenyra and Daemon move together with a fluid grace that borders on impropriety.

His brow furrows as he watches them—his daughter and his brother. The distance between them is too narrow, the smiles exchanged too familiar. Even now, after all these years, Viserys cannot fully discern what lies behind those shared glances. His hand tightens on the armrest of his seat, his knuckles whitening with the effort to maintain composure. The court is watching; he cannot afford to let his concerns show. Not here. Not tonight.

But then, from the corner of his eye, something else catches his attention—a flash of deep plum silk, a braid of silver hair glinting in the candlelight. His eyes shift, narrowing as he tracks the movement, and there you are, his younger daughter, Y/N, weaving through the crowd with that same effortless grace, the very image of your late mother Alyssa in her youth.

Viserys watches as you glide from one partner to the next, a playful smile ever present on your lips. Each lord who steps forward is charmed, entranced even, but there is one figure whose presence never strays far from your orbit—Ser Harwin Strong. The son of his current Hand, a man known for his strength and loyalty, but also for the intensity of his gaze, a gaze that now rests solely on you.

Viserys leans forward slightly, frowning as he observes the exchange unfolding before him. Harwin moves closer, clearly intent on catching you, and you—ever the playful one—tease him with fleeting glances, spinning just out of his reach each time he draws near. The way your eyes gleam with mischief, the way you turn your back only to glance over your shoulder at him, invites more than just a dance. It’s a game, and one that is all too familiar to Viserys, who remembers his own youth, and the thrill of such pursuits.

But then Harwin catches you. His large hand wraps around your waist, pulling you closer, closer than what is proper for a dance in front of the entire court. Your laughter rings out like silver bells, light and teasing as you push back against him, yet the way Harwin’s hand lingers—fingers splayed possessively against the silk of your gown—does not escape your father’s notice. The look on Harwin’s face is far too unguarded, a mixture of admiration and longing that sends a jolt of concern racing through Viserys.

Viserys’ chest tightens as he watches you lean in, saying something that makes Harwin’s smile sharpen, though the words are lost to the music and laughter that fills the hall. Then, just as quickly as he caught you, you slip away again, your skirts swirling as you twirl out of his grasp, leaving Harwin standing in the middle of the floor with a look of mingled frustration and desire. The scene plays out before Viserys like a vivid memory, like something he should have noticed sooner, something he should have acted upon long before tonight.

His eyes narrow as he follows the thread of events with growing unease. You laugh and dance your way out of the hall, light-footed and swift, and though Harwin remains behind for a few moments, his gaze tracks you with the keen eye of a falcon. Then, as discreetly as he can manage, Harwin moves toward the exit, following you.

Viserys’ grip on his goblet tightens until he fears it might shatter in his hand. He remains rooted to his seat, unwilling to cause a scene, yet the implications churn in his mind like a dark tide. The daughter who bears his blood, a Targaryen of pure lineage, slipping away with the son of his Hand? It is unthinkable—and yet, Viserys cannot ignore the undeniable connection between the two of you. The way you moved in tandem, how easily you played off one another as if you were two parts of a whole. It stirs something in Viserys, a deep-seated dread that this could lead to something more—something he has not prepared for.

His gaze shifts, and he meets the eyes of Lord Lyonel Strong. The Hand is seated farther down the table, looking distinctly uncomfortable, as though he too is aware of the precarious position his son is placing him in. When their eyes lock, Viserys does not miss the brief flash of unease in Lyonel’s expression, followed quickly by a nod of acknowledgment, as if to say he understands what Viserys is thinking. And, undoubtedly, he does.

The memory rushes back, clear as day—months ago, when Lyonel Strong came to him with a proposition a second time. “Your Grace,” Lyonel had said, his voice steady and filled with the gravity of a man who understood the weight of his words, “there are many fine matches to be made for your daughter, Y/N, from prominent houses across the realm. But I would humbly suggest that what my son Harwin offers may be worth more than mere lineage. His devotion to the princess is unwavering, and his love is without question. He would be a husband who honors her above all else, a union built on something deeper than mere alliances.”

At the time, Viserys had dismissed the notion—politely, but firmly. His daughter was a Targaryen, and surely she deserved a match that would strengthen their house politically, not merely satisfy matters of the heart. Yet now, watching the scene unfold before him, Viserys finds himself second-guessing his decision. Could there be merit in such a match after all? Could Lyonel’s words hold more truth than Viserys had been willing to see? But then again, to allow such a thing would be to acknowledge a love affair that has clearly grown far beyond simple courtly affection.

Viserys’ thoughts whirl, torn between the duty of a king and the love of a father. He knows that if he raises the matter now, it could cast a shadow over the entire evening, drawing unwelcome attention to something that should remain hidden, if only for the sake of peace. And yet, can he afford to remain silent, knowing the path that such unchecked desire could lead his daughter down? His gaze flicks back to the entrance where you vanished, and a part of him itches to rise from his seat, to go after you and demand answers.

But he stays rooted in place, forced into inaction by the eyes of the court and the weight of his crown. Instead, his gaze returns to Lyonel, and he sees the older man swallow nervously before looking away, clearly wishing to be anywhere else. The tension between them is palpable, unspoken yet undeniable.

Viserys takes a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. The decision he makes next could have lasting consequences, for both you and the realm. As the music swells and the laughter of the court continues around him, the king’s mind churns, trapped in a web of duty, love, and fear.

For now, he decides to wait—he will watch, and if Harwin oversteps again, then the matter will be brought to light. But the seed of doubt has already taken root in Viserys’ heart, and it will not be easily dismissed.

The night is long, but Viserys’ thoughts are longer still.

You slip through the winding corridors of the Red Keep, your heart thrumming in your chest as you make your way deeper into its shadowed recesses. The sound of music and laughter fades behind you as you reach a secluded passage, hidden away from the eyes of the court. This path is familiar, a secret shared only between the two of you. You’ve met here before, during stolen moments when the weight of duty and the eyes of others became too much to bear. The flickering torchlight casts long shadows along the stone walls, giving the space an almost dreamlike quality. Yet there is nothing dreamlike about the tension that crackles in the air as you wait, anticipation coiling like a serpent beneath your skin.

Footsteps echo faintly down the passage, the heavy tread unmistakable. A smirk tugs at your lips as you press your back against the cool stone, the thrill of the chase still buzzing in your veins. He always catches you in the end; it’s a part of the game, a part of the dance you both know so well. You hear him approach, his steps purposeful, a hunter closing in on his prey. You hold your breath, relishing the thrill of being caught, knowing what comes next.

And then he’s there—Ser Harwin Strong, towering and fierce, the firelight casting sharp angles across his rugged features. He looks at you with that smoldering gaze, dark and intense, his chest heaving as he closes the distance between you. “You run from me as if you ever wanted to get away,” he says, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

You don’t reply with words, only a wicked smile that dares him to come closer. And he does, with a predatory grace, until his body is pressed against yours, trapping you between the stone wall and his broad chest. “Caught you,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, one hand sliding up to cradle your jaw while the other grips your waist possessively.

Before you can retort, his lips crash against yours in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s all fire and hunger, the pent-up tension of the night spilling over as he devours you with a need that’s impossible to hide. You kiss him back with equal fervor, fingers tangling in his dark curls as you pull him closer, desperate to close the distance that’s been kept between you all night. Every touch, every bite and nip, is laced with the emotions you can’t express openly—a love too dangerous to voice in the light of day, but undeniable in moments like this.

Harwin’s hands roam over your body with a familiarity that sends heat pooling in your core. He tugs at the laces of your gown, his fingers rough but practiced, until the fabric loosens and falls away, exposing the soft skin of your neck and shoulders. You gasp against his lips as he nips at your throat, the scrape of his teeth drawing a moan from your lips. His own garments follow suit—his tunic and belt discarded hastily, the sound of cloth hitting stone echoing faintly in the small space.

The air between you crackles with a desperate need, the kind that’s built up over countless stolen moments, secret touches, and longing glances. There’s no pretense here, no titles or duties—only the raw, unfiltered connection between you. Harwin’s hands slide down your waist, gripping your hips firmly as he lifts you, pressing you harder against the wall. You wrap your legs around him instinctively, gasping as you feel him against you, hard and ready. The anticipation coils tightly in your belly, every nerve alive with want.

His eyes meet yours for a fleeting moment, and in them, you see everything he can’t say aloud—devotion, desire, and the promise that he would burn the world for you if you asked. But words are unnecessary now. You reach down, guiding him until he’s pressed right where you need him most. There’s a brief, charged pause—a moment where everything hangs on the edge—and then he pushes into you in one smooth, powerful motion.

The world tilts, pleasure and need blurring everything else as he sets a rhythm, hard and fast, the way he knows you both like it. It’s familiar and yet never loses its edge—each thrust, each gasp, sending sparks of electricity through you. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, biting down on the rough skin to muffle your cries, while his own growls of pleasure vibrate against your ear. His hands grip you tightly, fingers digging into your flesh as he moves, driving into you with a force that leaves you breathless.

But it’s not just the physical pleasure that binds you in this moment. It’s the intimacy, the shared understanding that this is where you both belong—together, hidden away from the prying eyes of the world. Here, you are not a princess, and he is not merely the son of the Hand. Here, you are simply two people who have found something rare and precious, something that defies the rules of the world you live in.

He kisses you again, slower this time, a searing heat beneath the tenderness as he deepens the connection between you. Your bodies move in sync, finding that perfect rhythm that drives you both higher, closer to the edge. You can feel it building, a tightening coil of pleasure that threatens to snap at any moment. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, a desperate plea, and he responds with your name in kind, low and reverent.

The world narrows to just the two of you—the heat of his body, the rough press of stone at your back, the intoxicating scent of sweat and desire. And then, with one final thrust, the tension breaks, pleasure crashing over you like a wave, drowning you in bliss. Harwin follows a heartbeat later, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he buries himself deep, his body trembling with the force of his release.

For a long moment, neither of you move, the air thick with the aftermath of your passion. You stay entwined, foreheads pressed together as you catch your breath, your heartbeats slowing in tandem. His hands are still on you, holding you as if he’s afraid you might slip away even now. And for a moment, the world is quiet, all worries and responsibilities forgotten in the haze of sated desire.

But reality is never far away. Slowly, you both come back to yourselves, and he reluctantly pulls back, letting you slide down until your feet touch the ground once more. There’s a flicker of regret in his eyes, a wish that this moment could last longer, but he says nothing as he helps you adjust your gown, his touch gentle now.

You smooth down your skirts, fixing your hair with a practiced ease, though the flush of your skin and the brightness in your eyes would give you away to anyone who looked closely enough. Harwin lingers, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a soft, almost reverent caress. “You always make me chase you,” he murmurs, his voice laced with fondness.“

And you always catch me,” you reply, the smile on your lips tinged with affection. “Perhaps I simply enjoy the chase.”

He chuckles, but there’s a seriousness in his gaze as he cups your face in his hands, holding you still for a moment longer. “One day, I won’t let you run again,” he says quietly, the promise heavy in the air.

You don’t answer, not with words. Instead, you lean up to kiss him one last time, slow and lingering, tasting the bittersweet mix of what you have and what you cannot yet fully claim. When you pull away, you give him a final smile before slipping out of the shadows and back into the world where duty and decorum await.

Harwin remains behind, watching you go with a look that holds both longing and resolve. He knows this is far from over.

#house of the dragon #hotd harwin #hotd #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd x you #harwin x reader #harwin x y/n #harwin x you #harwin breakbones #ser harwin #harwin strong #rhaenyra targaryen #hotd viserys #viserys targaryen

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tadpolesonalgae · 5 months ago

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Silk Pyjamas[*]

Azriel x reader

a/n: I want to get a nice pair of silk pyjamas so badly but they’re so hot in the summer 😫

warnings: smut

word count: 1,232

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“Az…”

“Azriel…”

“Az…!”

You squirm under the hotness of his palms as they press their shape into your skin, squeezing at your hips, grazing your waist, cupping your breasts as he pulls your comparatively soft body flush to his front. Your hands press into the crook of his elbows, spine curving into him, head tilted to the side as his tongue licks over the smooth skin of your neck, nipping just shy of your ear, lost in the small noises you’re making, the short, hushed breaths exhaling from your inviting lips, the soft swell of your breasts against his chest as you curve beneath his touch.

“Az…come on, we have an early morning tomorrow…” you try, lips helplessly curving at their corners as he presses ticklish kisses into your skin, swiftly turning hot and feverish, wet and open-mouthed as he moves lower, forearm banding around the curve of your spine, his body arching over you as his hips press to yours.

You inhale sharply when his thumb slips beneath the blue silk band of your pyjamas, matching the pair you’d bought for him: a deep blue top with sleeves down to your wrists, his with slats carefully cut into the back panel, trousers for each of you that come to your ankles, cut in a way that Azriel has mentioned show your hind off. And now his hand slides from your hips to squeeze at the swell of your ass appreciatively, sucking small marks into your throat as he guides you back to the bed.

It’s then he pulls away, and any serious fight you had left in you liquefies at the softness and hunger of his hazel eyes—bedroom eyes, if you’ve ever seen them. “Do you want to stop?” He asks quietly, hands pausing their exploration to settle on your hips, his fingers just beneath the silk of your top, able to feel the soft heat of your naked waist beneath.

You make the mistake of glancing down to his mouth, your pupils dilating as heat softens your body in his arms, your hands slowly making the trail up over his arms, feeling the swell of muscle beneath your fingertips, tracing up over his biceps, up over his broad shoulders, settling at the nape of his neck. Fingertips threading through silky, dark hair.

“No…” you mumble, inclining your jaw, lips parting as he sighs with arousal, mouth slanting hotly against your own, tongue plying you further apart so he can get inside of you, soft, wet noises being exchanged between your mouths, the bed pressing into the backs of your thighs. Your teeth nip at his lower lip before pulling away in favour of crawling onto the bed, but his hands firmly grip your hips, lifting you up off the floor—a casual display of effortless strength that has heat melting between your thighs.

“Az…” you urge softly, settling on your hands and knees in the centre of your bed, feeling as he prowls up behind you, crowding your space as his long, deft fingers hook beneath the band of your blue, silk trousers, pulling the elasticated band down over the curve of your ass, stopping when you’re uncovered, the elastic squeezing at your mid-thighs, far enough down for him to be given an arousing view of between your legs.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, almost to himself, and you flush from the praise, lowering yourself into the duvet so as to keep his attention on your ass, stuck invitingly in the air. “So good,” he murmurs to himself, feeling how wet you are as his hand wraps around your upper thigh, thumb sliding with ease through your heat, prodding with interest at your entrance.

“Az, come on…stop teasing,” you moan sweetly, shifting your hips with impatience. “You started this…” A low chuckle rumbles from his chest, and you tighten around nothing, as if trying to suction his thumb further inside, but he pulls away, if only to lower the waistband of his own pyjamas to free himself.

“Alright, no teasing,” he replies, mirth clear in his deep voice, pressing closer to your soft body. Your teeth drag over your lower lip as he pushes his tip to your entrance, gliding through the wetness effortlessly, coating himself in your slick, before pushing in. You moan into the duvet, fingers crumpling the previously crisp and smooth sheets, toes curling as his hot palms pull back on your hips, guiding you together.

“You can…please…” you pant softly, spine curving from the pleasure, breasts pressing into the plush mattress, and you tilt your head into his shadows as they brush against your cheek, stroking your hair. “Please move…”

Azriel groans quietly, breathlessly, but acquiesces, gently pulling his hips back only to push in again, softly pushing you deeper into the mattress with each roll of his hips. Moans swiftly start spilling from your lips as he repeats the movements, pace increasing ever so slightly to become more regular, more languid movements that have your arms shaking from holding yourself up.

You feel so at home between his arms, with him filling you up so completely you can’t take it, arms giving out as you collapse down into the bed, allowing him to fuck you sideways. You cry out softly as he noses at your throat again, shadows pulling your hair out of his way so he can pull your scent deep into his lungs, infuse you with his body, increasing the pace to something more regular and familiar, his cock touching a spot inside you that has your toes curling, nipples peaking beneath the dark blue silk of your pyjamas.

As usual, his shadows don’t miss a thing, squeezing and palming at your breasts as they slip beneath your top, pinching and lightly flicking at your nipples, playing with them sweetly as he pushes more and more pleasure into you.

“Az…!” You cry out, the moan flying from your lips as a sign you’re on the edge, unable to help it—you want to call out his name when you cum; you like having it shaping your lips, how it feels in your mouth. “Az, Az…! I…I’m—!”

“Go on,” he urges softly, kissing up your throat, settling on a spot halfway down your neck, below your ear to focus on. “You deserve this…take it…fuck, there you go.”

Your breath catches as he rolls you over the edge, pleasure tingling in every part of your body as it bubbles and simmers beneath your skin, like being warmed by the summer’s sun. “Azriel…” you moan, fluttering around him as you reach your high, the pleasure practically doubling as you feel him breathe a sigh of relief, allowing himself to find his own release inside of you.

The high takes a while to fade, slowly drifting back down to this plane, panting deeply, warmed beneath the reassuring weight of his body, wings shuddering lightly where they’re splayed out over the bed. He pants softly against your neck, and you squirm from the ticklish sensation, wanting to shift to look at him.

The two of you smile, before mouths are opening again, pressing together and your fingers drag through his hair, gently stroking to keep him from pulling away before you’re okay with it.

There’s no need for that, though.

He doesn’t want to leave any more than you do.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya @starlitlakes

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x reader smut #azriel smut #azriel fics #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fics smut

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wanderingsimsfinds · 5 months ago

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WanderingSims Fave CC - Teen Female List

1-2, 15 - Anzuchansims - CloudCat OneLastKiss Top Long Sleeves, Short Sleeves, & Skirt

3 - Nightospheresims - dissia Penelope Top

4-6, 18 Nightospheresims - jellymoo Grim Hoodie, Undead Tee, Zinc Tee, & Ghoul Skirt

7-8, 36 - Nightospheresims - Serenity Cate Top, Taylor Top, & Taylor Pants

9-10 - Nightospheresims - babytears Horror Void Sweater & Star Top

11, 59, 64 - AmerikoSteelie - Satellite 4t3 Elliesimple Cropped Sweater Top, SkittleSims 4t3 Elliesimple Midi Dress, & RolloRolls 4t3 Elliesimple Angel Dress

12 - polaesims - Serenity Barbie Fluffy Sweater

13-14, 46-47, 67-68, 72, 83-86, 88-89 - AmerikoSteelie - 4t3 Rimings Lazy Sunday Crop Top + Shorts, 4t3 AdriendPastel Keira Outfit, 4t3 Rimings Autumn School Uniform Outfit, 4t3 Rimings Summer Poison Midi Dress, 4t3 Arltos Evening Dress, 4t3 Rimings Summer Poison Swimsuit, 4t3 Jius Bowknot Hell Pumps, 4t3 Jius Bowknot Platform Loafers 01, 4t3 Jius Daisy Sandals 01, 4t3 Jius Y2K Loafers With Leg Warmers, Platform Leather Sandals, & 4t3 Arltos Geta Kimono Shoes

16-17 - SimSongs - Rusty Taylor Jacket & Belted Trousers

19-20, 45, 65, 80 - AmerikoSteelie - SugarSSims 4t3 BRS Sugar Skirt + Top, PuChiHouse School Uniform, R0ach3z 4t3 Serenity Lolly Dress, & UWillNeverFindMe 4t3 KK404 Japanese Kimono

21-23 - Nightospheresims - AxA Olivia Skirt & Trillkye Moonwalk Pajamas Top + Pants

24, 48 - AmerikoSteelie - simsoficeandfire 4t3 LazyEyelids Denim Miniskirt & simsoficeandfire 4t3 NitroPanic Cute ASF Dress

25 - VMSims - 4t3 School Korean Uniform Fem Skirt 2 + 2b

26-29 - KotaJose - Pleated Skirt + Loose Slacks & Kristal Leggings + Skinny Jeans

30 - SuteFlower - Gorilla3x Basic Jeans

31, 62 - RStar - Strada Jeans & Enchanted Dress

32-33 - elvgreen - Elliesimple Straight Levi's Bottom & Clumsyalien Riona Bottom

34 - xxbomixx - b0t0xbrat Dark Cargo Pants

35 - MickeyMouseClubhouss - Orion Sweatpants

37 - teekapoa - EP11 Bottom Edit

38-42 - Anzuchansims - CloudCat Avalon Outfit V1 + V2 & CloudCat Blight Outfit Jacket + Outfit & Marigold Ribbon Strap Off Shoulder Sweatshirts Dress

43 - VMSims - 4t3 Korean Girls School Uniform

44 - Nightospheresims - kumikya Carly Outfit

49, 91-92 - Anzuchansims - Nell Transparent Sleeves Dress & Carnival Scene Shoes V1 + V2

50 - VMSims - 4t3 Gorillax3 Blazer Vest Dress

51-53 - Nightospheresims - demondar Audrey Dress + Amity Dress & Trillkye Delight Dungaree Dress

54 - AmerikoSteelie - 4t3 NitroPanic Suspender Dress V2

55 - Nightospheresims - Trillkye Splash Cardigan Dress

56-57 -AmerikoSteelie - 4t3 Arethabee Secret Society Sabrina Dress & 4t3 Arethabee Wildflowers Violet Dress

58 - AmerikoSteelie - 4t3 CloudCat Fatal Frame Ruka Lace Dress

60 - elvgreen - 4t3 ekinege Chiffon Mini

61, 79, 90 - AmerikoSteelie - Xiasimla 4t3 SP23 Dress Silk, Xiasimla 4t3 Zeussim Asian Affair Dress, & VenusPrincess Zori With Tabi Shoes

63 - Nightospheresims - RR Marie Dress

66 - Nightospheresims - Madlen Daisy Dress

69 - AmerikoSteelie - 4t3 Elliesimple Pajamas Two Piece V2

70-71 - VMSims - 4t3 Gorillax3 Short Piping Pajama Full Body & 4t3 Sudalsims Homewear Dress

73-77 - Nightospheresims - Trillkye Thea Bikini, Madlen Sandy Bikini 1 + 2, Kumikya Lola Bikini, & ciao Glitter Bikini

78 - kent404 - Female Yukata

81 - sweetdevil - WA Cheongsam

82 - AmerikoSteelie - 4t3 Astya96 Lolita Platform Shoes

87 - AmerikoSteelie - 4t3 Madlen Sweet Harmony Melody Shoes

93 - Jamiesplayhouse - 4t3 Converse

94-95 - pixicat - Vans Sneakers & Dr Martens

96 - SimSongs - Madlen Kai Sneakers

97-102 - SuteFlower - Jius Platform Heeled Boots 01, Jius Star Fuzzy Boots 01, Jius Canvas Platform Sneakers 01, Jius Platform Pumps With Socks + Jius Heeled Jelly Sandals, & Jius Leather Ankle Boots 04

#cc list

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aangell333 · 6 months ago

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hiiii im actually so obsessed with how u write spencer!!! could i request sucking him off like in the kitchen or something and hes still in his suit after work and hes like rllllly pissed from a long day at work. and his hand is in your hair, when he finishes he kind of holds her in place so she cant get off to spit, goes in with his other hand to pinch her nose and tells her to swallow?

RUFF RUFF RUFF RUFF bless your brain.

you knew something was different the moment you entered the house.

the usually calm, library-like atmosphere your shared apartment with spencer held was replaced by a tight, thick tension that suffocated you.

“spence?” you called down the hallway as you kicked your shoes off and hung your coat.

this was a rare occasion, being home before spencer, but your big ceo boss was staying late which meant his assistant—you, had to stay late too.

you frowned when you didn’t get a response, instead padding further into the apartment on your white, stocking-clad feet.

“baby?” you didn’t see him in the living room so you turned to the kitchen where he stood with his back to you, leaning on the counter.

“you’re late,” god, how you hated when you couldn’t place his tone. he didn’t sound mad, but he didn’t sound… not mad.

“I’m sorry, owen had me running errands all night, his big meeting’s coming up and he’s really stressed,” you explained, not wanting an argument to start. you walked up to him, softly leaning on the counter beside him and running your hand up his arm.

his face was tense and his demeanour tight. he hardly moved at your touch, simply taking a long blink and a deep breath. he’d rolled his shirt sleeves to just below his elbows, the veins in his forearms prominent and thick.

“something’s wrong, long day at work?” you asked him. his fingers twitched on the counter, his eyes flicking down to you as he took in your work attire. the silence freaked you out a little. “baby, say something.”

nothing.

“does your boss have to see you looking so pretty?”

in a flash, he was on you. his hands all over you and his face in your neck as he kissed and nipped at your skin. you laughed in surprise, your own hands coming to his shoulders.

“look at you in that tight, little skirt and stupid silk blouse. d’you reckon he gets off on seeing you, seeing you in your pretty stockings. does he know I dress you every morning? does he know how expensive that blouse is? I do. I fucking bought you that blouse.” his words surprised you, but it all sunk into place in your mind as he pressed you against his front and you felt his bulge poking your hip bone.

you could only whimper, nails biting into his deep grey shirt and head tilting back.

“spence-“ “-come on let me feel you. let me feel your mouth, baby, I need it, I need it so bad.”

before you could respond, he was pushing you onto your knees with one hand on top of your head and the other undoing his belt. you sat on your knees, waiting for him to get his belt and flies open.

his cock stood tall in front of your face. thick, long and leaky, you closed your eyes happily as he smacked his length onto your cheeks and smeared his precum all over you. your eyes flashed open and a gasp tore your throat as he grabbed at the hair at the crown of your head and pulled it back.

your mouth opened as he guided your mouth onto his cock, the two of you groaning in unison. it wasn’t not long before he hit the back of your throat, your eyes closing as his cock reached its usual resting point. but he didn’t stop there.

your eyes opened and you look up to him as he kept pushing. his own eyes were fixed on the way he disappeared past your lips, ignoring your panicked whimpers as your nose drew closer to the small patch of hair at his pubic bone.

tears gathered as he pressed your face to his crotch and his groan of delight filled your ears. meanwhile, you were whimpering and gagging around his cock and smacking his thighs pathetically as you begged for him to move.

as he rolled his eyes with a sharp sigh, he pulled his cock out of your mouth and watched you, annoyed, as you coughed.

“breathe. gather yourself.” his words were short and demanding, waiting for you.

once again, he grabbed you by the hair and smushed your face into the underside of his cock.

“lick.” he instructed, a small smirk pulling at his lips when he felt your pathetic kitten licks. “oh, baby. I know you can do better than that.”

his teasing tone had you licking wide and long stripes up his cock as he enjoyed the feeling. not long after, he was jamming his cock down your throat again.

his hips worked overtime as he facefucked you, grinning down at your pathetic look. teary eyes, mascara-streaked cheeks, red complexion. and the cock sliding in and out of your spit-soaked lips.

feeling his pent up release hurtling towards him, he held your face down to his crotch again as he ignored your muffled wail. hot cum spurted into your mouth, some dripping down your throat. you pushed away from him, but he held you by your nose as he pressed down on your nostrils.

with half his cock in your mouth and your cheeks full of cum, you only wanted to spit into the sink. but, alas, the dreaded instruction came.

“swallow.”

“don’t wear your stockings tomorrow. I want owen to see the bruises.”

#x reader #smut #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds spencer reid #post prison spencer reid #post prison spencer #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer smut #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #post prison reid #x reader smut

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