hai my name is jules (she/her) i’m a 21 year old and i like to write smut if u haven’t noticed yet ^_^ i write about whatever im fixating over at the moment >_<
more about me <3
requests are not open ! but i love getting yalls questions or thoughts !
the tags on that edit from tiktok u posted...........armand and dumbification????????? i think im abt to faint holy shit ur mind
you've just opened a bag of winds, i hope you know that <3 /// ARMAND / F!READER, 18+ MDNI, 1.2K ⋆✴︎˚｡
paris!armand who first sees you at an underground cellar turned jazz club in post-ww2 paris. he’d gone there to stake it out for a group hunt, gauge any particularly wealthy patrons. by the time he returned to the theater, he’d half forgotten about the hunt entirely; santiago had to pry, but that went as well as you can imagine.
at the club, you're caught in a heated back-and-forth with a man who's clearly not worth a second more of your time. you approach armand with a slim cigarette tightly between your fingers—all the bravado in the world—lips pursed as you ask him in (endearingly, adorably) broken french if he thinks your outfit is provocative.
it is: a deep-blue velvet skirt that hugs you in all the right places, armand's stained-glass eyes trailing after every trick of the lights over your curves. he can see halfway up your thighs without even straining his neck. your blouse is a cheap, frilly thing, but you wear it well. your tights are sheer, and the tease of naked skin that's peeking through the nylon is enough to have his mind wandering, mapping veins he knows are there.
it's clear you recruited him in hopes of coming to your defense against your... who's that little insignificant worm you have with you? a boyfriend, a fiancé? clearly not a husband, judging by the glaringly obvious emptiness of your ring finger. just a worm, then. and he'd had his fun.
"i don't know which answer you seek, madame," armand shrugged, eyes catching on yours like a honey-trap. "the polite one, or the honest one?"
oh, your expression then? if directed at any other man, in any other century, in any other place, it would've made emperors bow down for a whacking. but not armand. not here, and not now.
"yours," you bite back, eyes making a show of trailing down his figure, cigarette finding its way between your lips before you blow the smoke right in his face. "...so?"
wordlessly, armand plucks the cigarette from between your fingers, nails faintly scraping against your skin, biting down his grin when he feels you twitching. you watch him, this stranger who thought it right to test you, provoked and intrigued in equal measure.
lips closing around your lipstick mark on the butt of the cigarette, he takes a deep drag of smoke. without breaking eye-contact, he echoes inside your mind: "i think you look exquisite, puce. it's a shame he doesn't, isn't it? a shame, easily remedied..."
he knows right then and there that he has you. hook, line, and sinker. your look around insecurely, hands tugging at the bottom of your skirt, eyes searching for the trick; the shadow on the wall. you don't know the shadow's standing right in front of you. he revels in the way all that confidence melts into an uncertain pile of doubt, of exposure.
expertly turning the cigarette in his hold, he places it back between your gaping mouth. his thumb lingers, swiping on your bottom lip, some of your lipstick smearing on his skin. with a bent forefinger, he taps the underside of your chin, and turns on his heel.
on his leisurely stroll back to the theater, he's overcome by the urge to fuck that attitude clean off of that head of yours. clearly, someone ought to. he's not worried, though; he knows he'll see you again. he won't be able to help himself.
"can you hear me, puce?"
"u–uh, uh-huh, uh-hu–uuh—"
you're nodding dumbly, bent over his desk in the theater, face smushed against his script drafts and drooling onto the papers. you're dressed in one of his dress-shirts, his scent on you like a mark, and absolutely nothing else. your feet are dangling off the desk, curling like loose hairs with every roughly calculated thrust. and your mind, usually sharp as a razor, now reduced to a mumbling, moaning mess. music to his ears.
nothing's left inside your mind but armand. his weight on your back, pressing you down against hard and cold mahogany, making you feel as though there's no space for your lungs to expand anymore. his lips on the side of your neck, mouthing at your sweaty skin. his fangs teasing at your veins, the smell of your thrumming blood making his mouth drool. his hands, splayed on top of yours on the desk and covering them whole, keeping you still for him like a butterfly pinned for display on a corkboard. his butterfly. (<3)
he kisses you softly in the ear, letting his own sounds spill for him, because he knows how much you love hearing him. and, really, it's clear by the way you clench around him, sucking him in like you need him to take root inside you. he drags his fangs up and down your earlobe, lips curling in a smirk when he feels a shiver wreck your frame.
"mon petit chou," he coos, moaning lowly, "use words, hm...?"
he knows you can't. or, rather, he's not letting you. he's using the mind gift to dig around that pretty skull that loves nothing more than causing him headaches. he's drinking in those distant zaps of sensations from your point of view as his hips slap against yours. best thing is? he can sense you trying to form words, the syllables materializing, your mouth opening to give them form. but he shooes them away, scattering them like crumbs, leaving nothing behind but his name, his weight, his cock.
he loves that you don't fight it, that you welcome it. he loves how much you love it. back arching for him, pussy squelching for him, milking him for all he's got. made for him and him only, even if you didn't know it. you'll know it soon enough.
he loosens his control of your mind once he feels you tiptoeing on the edge, letting you go and feeling your saccharine cries washing over him. you come around him thrashing, mind thrown into the deep end as everything rushes in at once, his name a litany. you sob, shuddering: "oh–oh, arm–ah–nd, arma—!"
you hiccup wetly and brokenly. when he feels that rhythmic pulse around him, his jaw hangs open in an open-mouthed smirk and his brows form a desperate, euphoric 'Λ' shape. hips losing focus, he pistons and makes your body jump every time your skins meet, surely bruising you in the process. he doesn't care. he wants to see you purple from him, and he knows you want it too.
he comes with a brutal, resounding thrust; impossibly deep, skins one, painting you in thick ropes of crimson until he's dripping out of you. he's twitching aimlessly now, mouth drifting from your nape and across your shoulderblades, kissing your puffy cheeks and murmuring: "mmh... ma chouchoute, mon petit chou... mine, yes?"
he's smushing his cheek against yours, smiling when he feels your grin and nod. afterwards... he turns you around, scripts flying everywhere, giving you a lingering kiss before his palms grip onto your thighs and open you up, nearly spread-eagle. he eats you like this, cleaning you up, using the mind gift not to dampen your thoughts this time, but to swim in them. to hear how much it aches and how much you love it, thoughts spiralling sweetly as he drives you to another climax. this one sweeter, because he's there to lick it up.
"mon petit vieux, armand..." you coo when he comes up, one palm covering your mouth to stifle the cheek-splitting grin and failing completely. your giggles turn into a gasp when his palm comes down the meat of your ass, the slap stinging and delicious.
"behave," he clicks his teeth, but his smile gives him away.
A/N; woah. i did not know i had so much to say. when anon orders dumbification armand but the chef sprinkles in a bit of that brat taming house-special sauce and adds complimentary patronizing terms of endearment fries... we're eating good tonight! oh to be his little butterfly sighhh <3 also, mon petit vieux means my little old man, which made me do sommersaults once i found out bc it's the cutest fucking thing ever for armand :'3
(puce = literally "flea" (sweetheart, darling, etc) / mon petit chou = literally "my little cream puff" (sweetheart, darling, etc) / ma chouchoute = my favorite/darling/pet / mon petit vieux = my little old man!)
⭒ ݁ . read on ao3. my masterlist. leave a reblog and your thoughts!
MDNI 18+. Adam Glenn has a cock like an HVAC pipe that he has absolutely no idea what to do with. He frustrates himself trying to jerk off, cause it can never be a casual activity—he always has to use both of his giant hands and strangle it for what feels like forever before he can bring himself anywhere close to the edge. By the time he cums, he barely feels the pleasure of it. He’s just grateful and relieved he can be done wrestling his dick just to blow off some steam and make himself feel good. It’s impossible for him to deal with, adjusting it so it isn’t glaringly strained against the crotch of his pants even when he’s soft. He guiltily considers how much easier it would be just to hold a girl’s hips and lift her up and down on it until they’re both a mess—but he doesn’t date much, no matter how much he earnestly tries, so he doesn’t really reap the rewards of the monster in his pants. He’s mostly just irritated with it.
When you start dating, Adam discovers pretty early on that you have a particular…skillset, as he sees it. You didn’t need to use it much with your past boyfriends, but man does it come in handy with Adam. He watches you with shock and raw admiration when you handle his dick so expertly, two hands wrapped around the base while you gurgle on the tip of it. You make his eyes roll back so effortlessly, his angry red cock drained and placid again right after you get your hands on it. And you’re not totally exhausted from it like he always was—you just look at him with watery eyes, drool gathered at the corner of your mouth, and give him that little smile with wet lips. When he sees you like that, that humble shyness in your eyes at getting him off so easily, the way you drank in the sight of him when he was spasming and shouting as he spurted all over his abs, his cock inflates impossibly fast again. He’s almost embarrassed that his greedy dick is demanding to be dealt with again, right after you performed that five-star wrangling of it.
To his shock, your eyes light up with glee. He warms under your gaze again when your eyes fall to it, somehow still a teeny bit flustered no matter how much of him you’ve seen. You swing your leg over him in a comfortable straddle without even a second thought, your body shuddering with anticipation as you prepare to sit on it, and his head swims. When he sees the look on your face as you take him inch by inch—hears the way you keen and babble when you rock into his chest for support— it makes him get real appreciative real fast of his previously-inconvenient monster cock. Maybe it isn’t so bad.
Initial request: Need me some desparate, intense and really fucking dirty post-lestat, pre-louis france Armand smut
Pairing: armand x reader
Warnings: smut
Word count: 4555
a/n: I don't know why I wanted some plot for this one, but it slowly went out of hand. I do like the result, I hope you all will do too. Let me know!
Summary: You fled your family expectations and now you worked in Paris as a dress-maker. Armands wants you to design clothes for Théâtre des Vampires, and for himself.
Disclaimer: english is not my first language
Life wasn't easy. It has never been easy for you, the disowned daughter of a prestigious family that didn't obey their orders and refused to marry someone she didn't know. A man at least twice your age.
The war only made everything worse for you.
When you fled home you took as many of your valuable possessions you could carry with you, to have something to sell that could allow you to start anew in another city. Paris was big enough for you to hide and cover your tracks, so it was the safest option.
You had managed to find a two-room apartment, way below the standards you were raised in, but you didn't mind. You would have lived in the sewers, if it had granted you the freedom you desired.
After the first few months of struggling with your new life, trying to understand how you could survive on your own once the money you had gained from selling your belongings ran out, you found a sort of balance. You got close to your neighbours and offered your skills in mending and designing clothes to start earning and create a small turnover — you had mentally thanked your family for indulging your passion for fashion, providing the education you had wished for.
It took you more than a year of small labour to finally buy a little shop two roads away from your small apartment. Your prices were low as people could not afford to buy that many clothes during the war, and repairing the ones they already had, cost them even less.
Still, despite how bleak the world had turned out to be, having something to occupy your days helped you keep your head and mind above water. Sometimes you barely left your shop, working at night providing a sense of comfort and calmness around you that quieted your inner turmoils. You often went back to your apartment when dawn was starting breaking in the sky.
It was during one of those nights that someone entered your shop way past midnight, probably attracted by the light still on reflecting on the curb outside in the street.
"I'm closed at the moment," you said at the man in front of you, your hand slowly going under your desk to get the knife you always hid there out of safety. You never had to use it before.
"Yet your door was open and you're still here. Working."
The stranger had a nice voice, smooth as velvet and way lighter on the consonants than any person you'd encountered before. He sounded melodious.
"There's no one around at night in these streets, especially not out to buy clothes."
The man was standing in the middle of the room, eyes on you with a colour so unnatural you wondered if it was simply a trick of the lights.
"And yet here I am."
You tilted your head to the side. "You want me to believe you're not here to rob me or attack me, but you're interested in my services?"
The man stepped closer to the counter, the only piece of furniture standing between you. "You don't seem very scared for someone who believes I'm here to commit a felony."
"I accepted the fact that if anyone were to come here at night was to harm me, and I couldn't really stand a chance," you replied, shrugging your shoulders slightly.
"Fascinating."
"Not really." He was still staring at you, those unblinking eyes fixed in yours. "So, are you actually here for my clothes?"
A slow blink.
"I have a theatre company down in Pigalle. Some of our stage costumes are quite old and we need replacements, would you be willing to design them for us?"
This time it was your turn to stare. A part of your brain was telling you you should be scared of the man in front of you, yet no fight or flight instinct was kicking in.
"I can do it. Have you set a budget?"
"Money is not a problem," the man said with a slow movement of his hand. So elegant. "I'll have someone deliver our necessities tomorrow night."
He turned around swiftly, moving towards the door as a way to tell the conversation was over.
"Wait," you blurted out quickly. "Can I at least know your name?"
"Armand."
In a blink he was out the door and out of sight.
---
That became your new life in the following months. Someone from the Théâtre des Vampires would come once every week with new requests or to mend a few costumes. Usually, it was Celeste or Estelle, but sometimes Santiago appeared. The girls were nice and they stayed long enough to keep you company till late in the evening. Santiago, on the other hand, always looked at you as if he wanted to eat you. And not in a nice way.
Armand never showed up again.
Estelle had told you he was their maître, so you imagined he must have been too busy with their plays to bother to come. You didn't mind, you were just curious to see him once more.
That's why it took you by surprise when you saw him enter your shop one winter night, almost six months after the first time.
"Good evening, monsieur."
"Good evening, mademoiselle."
The side of your mouth twitched into a small smile. "How do you know I'm not married?"
Armand stepped towards one of the shelves where all the new fabrics were on display, his eyes scanning them carefully. "We have made some progress in the last century, yet a married woman still wouldn't be as free as you are."
"I see," you commented, placing down the dress you were busy sewing before Armand came in. "And does this bother you?"
"Not at all," he replied, firmly, his attention still on the fabrics. "Having a common man try to tame you would have been the worst outcome for you. Your pretty head always so luminous would have dimmed in less than a year in marriage."
A quiet gasp left your lips at his words, stunning you into silence. How could he know about this?
"Why are you here tonight?" you asked, your voice surprisingly stable given how you were actually feeling.
Armand finally turned to look at you, his amber eyes like a beam in the night. They were truly unnatural, no trick of the light as you initially thought.
"In a couple of weeks we'll have the première of our new show, I would like a new suit fit for the evening. I want your impeccable taste to dress me."
His request almost surprised you more than his previous words. You weren't expecting him to come to you with a commission.
"It would be my pleasure," you said, picking a sheet of paper from one of the drawers below the desk. "You can write down your measurements. Have you chosen a fabric?"
Armand turned back towards the shelves, his hand caressing a specific piece. "I'd like to have it in this colour."
You left your spot behind the counter to reach him and see clearly his fabric of choice. You were standing less than two feet from him, his scent tickling your nose but you couldn't point out the fragrance. Tobacco and something spicy.
"That's mummy-brown. My favourite shade of this colour." You looked at him, your eyes scanning his figure. "It would go very well with your complexion."
Armand was staring you down. From up close he was even taller than you thought, you only reached his shoulders.
"I trust your judgement," he said, his attention fully on your face. "But I'd like you to take my measurements. I want the suit perfectly tailored, and previous dressmakers didn't have your eye."
You blinked quickly, taken completely off-guard. "Yes, of course. We can do it now, if you have time."
"All the time you need."
"Follow me, then."
You took him to the back of your shop, where you had mirrors and a stand for clients to step on to make the job easier for you. Armand positioned himself without requiring any instruction from you.
"Would you mind taking off your jacket? I need to see your arms and back to measure you correctly."
Armand did as you asked, placing the jacket carefully on the bench next to him. You barely followed his movements as your eyes were fixed on his upper body.
"Is something the matter?"
You head jerked automatically back towards his face at his question. "No, it's alright. I was just expecting your body to be leaner. I thought you had less muscular mass."
"Have you imagined my body often?"
You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from reacting, willing your face to keep the blush at bay. "That's not what I meant. It's my professional instinct that kicks in when I look at a person, to see what might look best on them."
"Any suggestions for me?" Armand asked, a little smirk forming on his face.
"You don't need it. From what I've seen you're very aware of your commanding presence and you dress accordingly to your status."
"You're being generous."
"I'm being honest. It's your choice to believe me or not."
Without further ado, you got into work starting from his legs, each time scribbling down the measurements on the sheet you had brought with you. The position was a bit awkward when you stopped to think about it. You were on your knees, while Armand's looming and even taller figure was towering over you. You could feel the weight of his power pressing on your shoulders but, surprisingly, that only seemed to trigger a sense of thrill in the pit of your stomach.
Once you were done with his legs, you stood back up to your feet, raising your head to look at Armand, who had been awfully quiet and still during the whole process.
"Do you mind stepping down, so I can take your place?" you asked in your best professional voice. "I need to measure your bust, arms and shoulders, and I'm going to struggle from down here."
"Of course," Armand replied immediately, following your request.
You lifted your leg on the stand as you moved to take his previous position, when you felt Armand's hand on the small of your back help you with the movement. His other followed right afterwards, resting softly on your waist to prevent your body from losing its balance.
"Thank you," you murmured awkwardly. "But I could manage on my own."
Armand's lips quirked a bit in the corner, but didn't comment anything further.
You were the same height now, and close enough for you to fully let his scent invade your senses. It was a unique fragrance, and you could not deny how affected you were by inhaling it inside you. In addition to that, his eyes were mere inches from yours in this position and you noticed for the first time, despite the peculiar colour that no human could possess, how warm they felt when they made contact with yours.
"Is there something wrong with my face?"
His voice brought you back to reality. You diverted your gaze, blinking quickly to get your focus back completely. You fidgeted with the tape measure a couple of times before continuing with the task at hand. Thankfully, Armand's stillness was helpful, your mind now set again on getting all the required measurements you would need for his suit, but you were aware his attention never strayed away from you for a second, so intense it actually felt like a touch on your skin.
"All done," you said, as you removed the tape from the front of his shoulders. You raised your head instinctively to look at him, a loud gasp leaving your mouth at his proximity.
You could feel his breath on your cheek, certain that Armand could feel yours as well.
None of you moved for a few seconds, bodies frozen in the moment as you simply stood there staring at each other. You were the first to step away, jumping down quickly from the stand so you could grab your sheet again and write down the last measurements.
"I'll have your suit ready in a week, is that okay with you?" you asked, giving Armand your back. You didn't know what had just happened, but you couldn't bring yourself to look at him for the time being.
"Yes."
"Do you need anything else?"
"I'd like to invite you to the première of the show, if you're interested in coming to see it."
You stopped writing on the paper at his words, still keeping your back turned. What were you supposed to say? Would it be awkward for you to attend? Santiago tried to convince you a few times, but you always used your work as a fair way to refuse. But it was Armand asking you now, and somehow all the nerves in your body were compelling you to say yes.
You willed your body to turn back around, feeling brave enough to make eye-contact again. "I'd love to."
The words were out in the air now, and you knew Armand wouldn't allow you to take them back. Luckily for you, you had no intention to.
---
The day of the première you spent an awful amount of time in front of your wardrobe to choose an appropriate dress. When you used to go to the opera with your parents, you had always worn your most expensive gown as the occasion was also meant to show off your family's wealth.
You didn't know what kind of show you were about to see, but you had a feeling you should go with a more sober outfit, though still elegant enough to look good. You opted for a cinnamon brown A-line skirt with three red ochre buttons at the top that matched with the silk shirt you had in the same shade of colour.
You decided not to wear any tights underneath. It was a cold night, but you loathed the feeling of their texture on your skin. Your winter coat would be enough to keep your body warm.
You looked at yourself one last time in the mirror and, when you felt quite satisfied with the result, you put on your Victorian boots and left your apartment.
Your walk towards Pigalle was quicker than you thought, the cold air forcing you to speed up your steps as your heels clicked loudly on the cobbled streets. A small crowd was gathered outside the entrance, moving slowly inside the theatre.
Your assigned seat was in the fourth row right in front of the stage and, as you waited for the show to start, you looked around the place to commit it to memory.
It was smaller than the theatres you used to attend and less opulent, which you took as a good sign. It was very dim lit though, the dark walls casting a shadow on all the audience. As you studied the upper levels on your right, your gaze stopped at the figure standing against the wooden banister taking in the scenery below.
Armand.
His attention shifted towards you in a second, giving you a small nod as a welcome that you returned with a small smile. It was interesting to see him in his element, as it had been the other way around until now.
When the few lights around the stalls were switched off, you diverted your gaze. The show was about to start.
You didn't know what you were expecting to see, the poster outside not giving much away, but surely not small plays all circling around death. And all brutally executed.
You resisted the temptation to look up at Armand in judgement, as you weren't getting the reasoning behind such macabre choices, though you were sure it was clearly showing on your face.
Everything changed with the last scene. You frowned as a young girl came running on stage screaming. Normally you would say she was truly giving all of herself in the act, but deep down you knew she wasn't performing.
The girl was really frightened.
You leaned forward slightly, your eyes moving around on stage before settling on Santiago busy bewitching the audience with his monologue. That's when it happened. You saw two fangs shining in his mouth a second before they came down to bite violently on the girl's neck.
This wasn't a play. It was real. You didn't have any proof of that, but your brain had already decided that was the only possible truth.
As the girl supposedly fainted in Santiago's arms, you finally turned to look at Armand. You found his eyes already on you as if he was waiting for your reaction. It made sense now why everybody in the company had eyes so unnatural, because they were.
Because they were all vampires.
You stood up from your seat quickly, almost running out of the theatre. It wasn't out of fear that you were leaving before the play ended, that was what was scaring you the most.
The scene you had witnessed excited you. The idea that you'd been interacting with creatures that could have ended your life in a blink sent shivers of exhilaration down your spine. The fact that you had been alone with Armand, his face close enough to bite your neck if wanted to — but didn't — was awakening something deep in your core you had never had a taste of before.
You realized your body was taking you to your shop. It was closer to the theatre, and it was your shelter in a way that your apartment could never be. You needed to be in a safe territory, because you knew even without seeing him or hearing him that Armand was following you.
You entered the shop slamming the door behind you without stopping to see if it would actually close or not. You didn't turn on the lights in the main room, opting to wait in the back where you had taken Armand's measurements a fortnight before.
You switched on the two lamps you had in the corners of the room to have a clear enough view of your surroundings. You had hoped to have enough time before his arrival, so that you could slow down your breath and heartbeat, but you weren't so lucky.
The steps were light but you managed to hear them anyway. Or better, Armand wanted you to hear them. Still you were not prepared at the effect the sight had on you, the moment he stepped out of the dark. His grim shadow projected on the walls behind him thanks to the light of the lamps.
"You know the truth."
"Yes."
Your voice was barely above a whisper, and still ragged.
"You're scared."
"No."
Armand tilted his head to the side, amber eyes blaring even brighter than usual. "Prove it."
You went to him, your body not hesitating once as you sidestepped the stand in the middle of the room to reach him. You stopped right in front of Armand, your gaze meeting his as they seemed to be compelled to do each time you were to share the same space.
"Look into my eyes, Armand. Do you see fear?"
You made it sound like a challenge. It was probably a stupid move, a move someone would do if they didn't have a single regard for their own life.
Still, Armand did as you asked. He was scanning your face for an answer, so profoundly you could almost feel him inside your head. Maybe he was.
The silence stretched, your breathing starting to pick up again in anticipation. You could feel your fingers twitch next your sides as you waited.
Armand was on you before your mind could start to process his approach. His lips crashing against yours in a rough kiss as one of his hands got tangled in your hair, while the other went to the small of your back to press your body closer to his.
You followed out of instincts rather than experience, taking a hold of his face and shoulder. His tongue slipped in your mouth the second you parted your lips to breathe. He was devouring you in a way you should have expected from a vampire, and you were struggling to match his rhythm.
Armand broke the contact first. His eyes searching for yours while he pushed your body backwards, placing his hands on your hips to direct you. You back met the table you had against the wall before he lifted you to sit on it with frightening ease.
"You never say or act the way I expect you to. It's maddening how you can disrupt my balance by simply existing."
You were so disoriented by the whole situation you weren't sure if he was giving you a compliment or insulting you.
"Are you going to kill me?"
Armand let out a breathy laugh, the air touching the skin of your face softly. "Do you think I would be standing here between your legs if I wanted to kill you?"
"I don't know. It seems fitting for your kind to seduce your preys before you eat them, makes the hunt more palatable."
"Such a brilliant mind you have."
You gasped the moment you felt Armand's hand touch your leg, caressing the skin behind your knee before moving higher toward your thigh, your skirt rising to welcome him. You knew where he was going and yet you didn't how to prepare yourself at the contact.
Your legs opened wider on their own accord, showing Armand how willing your body was to have him touch you. When Armand reached your centre, he simply let his palm rest against it, his hand covering all of your core.
You were wet. He could feel it through the fabric of your underwear, still you kept still. You let your back relax against the wall behind as you waited for his next move.
Armand moved your underwear to the side, two of his fingers coming up to your clit applying pressure with fast and firm circles. You moaned loudly at the action, more intense than the way it felt when you touched yourself alone in your bed deep into the night.
His rhythm never faltered, each precise flick on your clit eliciting a reaction out of you. A light jolt of your legs, a sweet whimper from your lips.
Without warning, Armand entered you with one of his fingers, the sensation so overwhelming in its suddenness that your back bowed into an arch as if on command.
You could feel your muscles stretch as Armand pressed it to the hilt, his palm making contact with your clit again. He stayed there, giving no sign he had any intention to start moving.
You opened your eyes that you didn't even realise you had closed, and looked at him. As expected, Armand was already staring at you, expression unreadable.
"You've never lain with a man."
It wasn't a question. He knew based on a single finger inside you.
"That's true."
"If you feel pain, you stop me. I'm not interested in hurting you."
You took a deep breath. "And in what are you interested in?"
Armand's eyes darkened as his finger started moving slowly inside you. "Seeing you cry in pleasure."
The tip of his finger curled against a specific spot inside you, the sudden sensation making you open your legs even more. Armand kept attacking the same spot over and over again, as your whimpers started to grow in volume filling the small room.
A second finger joined the first, your walls immediately welcoming the intrusion without any resistance. You could feel your wetness dripping down your skin and on the table below you.
Armand never stopped the sweet torture, only increasing the pace every few seconds. Your breathing was getting more ragged and you couldn't keep your eyes open any longer. The second his thumb started pressing down on clit, giving it quick flicks that matched the pressure of his fingers inside you, you were done for.
Your climax hit like a tidal wave, your whole body trembling in response as your legs locked against Armand's waist. You wanted the feeling to last forever but you wanted to run away from it at the same time. You had fully lost control of your body and mind.
When the intensity slowly decreased, you managed to open your eyes. Armand's gaze already there to provide you comfort, his pupils so large that they were engulfing completely the amber of his irises.
"No tears in your eyes," Armand commented. "Let me rectify that."
You had no time to react — not that your current situation would have allowed you to — as Armand pushed your legs back against your shoulders, your skirt dropping down on your waist exposing your centre fully to the room and to Armand's focused gaze.
"I'll try to be gentle, ma chérie, but my control is hanging by a thin thread," Armand said, voice showing his effort in restraining himself.
"I don't care," you managed to utter. "I want you, Armand."
That was all the permission he needed. In a single, smooth movement of his hips Armand pushed forward. You didn't know when he had pulled his pants down to his thighs, but considering how out of your mind you were during your orgasm, you weren't really surprised you hadn't noticed.
"Armand, fu—"
You didn't get to finish your sentence. The feeling of Armand's length entering you taking all your breath away. You were expecting pain, like in the stories you had heard when you were old enough to understand, but nothing came. Only a crushing feeling of pleasure.
Armand set a brutal pace from the beginning as he saw you get lost in the throes of bliss after the first thrusts.
The table you were sitting on kept bumping against the wall at every snap of Armand's hips against the skin of your thighs. Those were the only sounds in the room, other than your erratic panting and the occasional moan slipping through Armand's lips.
You weren't going to last. Your hands coming up to hold Armand's wrists, while his hands were still gripping the back of your knees keeping you in the same folded position against the table and wall.
The orgasm hit you both at the same time out of nowhere. You let out a scream so loud and raw you struggled to recognise as your own. Armand sinked his nails in your flesh, breaking the skin, a low groan resonating in his chest.
You stayed in the same position for a few minutes, not that you could do much with your body positively drained. Your sight was blurred, wet tears staining your lashes and your cheeks.
"Are you still with me?" Armand asked, lowering delicately your legs back on the table.
You nodded not knowing if you were able to utter a complete sentence.
Armand's hands were moving softly on your skin, trying to stop the tremors in your muscles. "Now that I found you, I think I'm going to keep you."
You blinked slowly up at him, not really registering his words, as you felt your body gradually drifting off.
Initial request: Need me some desparate, intense and really fucking dirty post-lestat, pre-louis france Armand smut
Pairing: armand x reader
Warnings: smut
Word count: 4555
a/n: I don't know why I wanted some plot for this one, but it slowly went out of hand. I do like the result, I hope you all will do too. Let me know!
Summary: You fled your family expectations and now you worked in Paris as a dress-maker. Armands wants you to design clothes for Théâtre des Vampires, and for himself.
Disclaimer: english is not my first language
Life wasn't easy. It has never been easy for you, the disowned daughter of a prestigious family that didn't obey their orders and refused to marry someone she didn't know. A man at least twice your age.
The war only made everything worse for you.
When you fled home you took as many of your valuable possessions you could carry with you, to have something to sell that could allow you to start anew in another city. Paris was big enough for you to hide and cover your tracks, so it was the safest option.
You had managed to find a two-room apartment, way below the standards you were raised in, but you didn't mind. You would have lived in the sewers, if he had granted you the freedom you desired.
After the first few months of struggling with your new life, trying to understand how you could survive on your own once the money you had gained from selling your belongings ran out, you found a sort of balance. You got close to your neighbours and offered your skills in mending and designing clothes to start earning and create a small turnover — you had mentally thanked your family for indulging your passion for fashion, providing the education you had wished for.
It took you more than a year of small labour to finally buy a little shop two roads away from your small apartment. Your prices were low as people could not afford to buy that many clothes during the war, and repairing the ones they already had, cost them even less.
Still, despite how bleak the world had turned out to be, having something to occupy your days helped you keep your head and mind above water. Sometimes you barely left your shop, working at night providing a sense of comfort and calmness around you that quieted your inner turmoils. You often went back to your apartment when dawn was starting breaking in the sky.
It was during one of those nights that someone entered your shop way past midnight, probably attracted by the light still on reflecting on the curb outside in the street.
"I'm closed at the moment," you said at the man in front of you, your hand slowly going under your desk to get the knife you always hid there out of safety. You never had to use it before.
"Yet your door was open and you're still here. Working."
The stranger had a nice voice, smooth as velvet and way lighter on the consonants than any person you'd encountered before. He sounded melodious.
"There's no one around at night in these streets, especially not out to buy clothes."
The man was standing in the middle of the room, eyes on you with a colour so unnatural you wondered if it was simply a trick of the lights.
"And yet here I am."
You tilted your head to the side. "You want me to believe you're not here to rob me or attack me, but you're interested in my services?"
The man stepped closer to the counter, the only piece of furniture standing between you. "You don't seem very scared for someone who believes I'm here to commit a felony."
"I accepted the fact that if anyone were to come here at night was to harm me, and I couldn't really stand a chance," you replied, shrugging your shoulders slightly.
"Fascinating."
"Not really." He was still staring at you, those unblinking eyes fixed in yours. "So, are you actually here for my clothes?"
A slow blink.
"I have a theatre company down in Pigalle. Some of our stage costumes are quite old and we need replacements, would you be willing to design them for us?"
This time it was your turn to stare. A part of your brain was telling you you should be scared of the man in front of you, yet no fight or flight instinct was kicking in.
"I can do it. Have you set a budget?"
"Money is not a problem," the man said with a slow movement of his hand. So elegant. "I'll have someone deliver our necessities tomorrow night."
He turned around swiftly, moving towards the door as way to tell the conversation was over.
"Wait," you blurted out quickly. "Can I at least know your name?"
"Armand."
In a blink he was out the door and out of sight.
---
That became your new life in the following months. Someone from the Théâtre des Vampires would come once every week with new requests or to mend a few costumes. Usually, it was Celeste or Estelle, but sometimes Santiago appeared. The girls were nice and they stayed long enough to keep you company till late in the evening, Santiago, on the other hand, always looked at you as if he wanted to eat you. And not in a nice way.
Armand never showed up again.
Estelle had told you he was their maître, so you imagined he must have been too busy with their plays to bother to come. You didn't mind, you were just curious to see him once more.
That's why it took you by surprise when you saw him enter your shop one winter night, almost six months after the first time.
"Good evening, monsieur."
"Good evening, mademoiselle."
The side of your mouth twitched into a small smile. "How do you know I'm not married?"
Armand stepped towards one of the shelves where all the new fabrics were on display, his eyes scanning them carefully. "We have made some progress in the last century, yet a married woman wouldn't be as free as you are."
"I see," you commented, placing down the dress you were busy sewing before Armand came in. "And does this bother you?"
"Not at all," he replied, firmly, his attention still on the fabrics. "Having a common man try to tame you would have been the worst outcome for you. Your pretty head always so luminous would have dimmed in less than a year in marriage."
A quiet gasp left your lips at his words, stunning you into silence. How could he know about this?
"Why are you here tonight?" you asked, your voice surprisingly stable given how you were actually feeling.
Armand finally turned to look at you, his amber eyes like a beam in the night. They were truly unnatural, no trick of the light as you initially thought.
"In a couple of weeks we'll have the première of our new show, I would like a new suit fit for the evening. I want your impeccable taste to dress me."
His request almost surprised you more than his previous words. You weren't expecting him to come to you with a commission.
"It would be my pleasure," you said, picking a sheet of paper from one of the drawers below the desk. "You can write down your measurements. Have you chosen a fabric?"
Armand turned back towards the shelves, his hand caressing a specific piece. "I'd like to have it in this colour."
You left your spot behind the counter to reach him and see clearly his fabric of choice. You were standing less than two feet from him, his scent tickling your nose but you couldn't point out the fragrance. Tobacco and something spicy.
"That's mummy-brown. My favourite shade pf this colour." You looked at him, your eyes scanning his figure. "It would go very well with your complexion."
Armand was staring you down. From up close he was even taller than you thought, you only reached his shoulders.
"I trust your judgement," he said, his attention fully on your face. "But I'd like you to take my measurements. I want the suit perfectly tailored, and previous dressmakers didn't have your eye."
You blinked quickly, taken completely off-guard. "Yes, of course. We can do it now, if you have time."
"All the time you need."
"Follow me, then."
You took him to the back of your shop, where you had mirrors and a stand for clients to step on to make the job easier for you. Armand positioned himself without requiring any instruction from you.
"Would you mind taking off your jacket? I need to see your arms and back to measure you correctly."
Armand did as you asked, placing the jacket carefully on the bench next to him. You barely followed his movements as your eyes were fixed on his upper body.
"Is something the matter?"
You head jerked automatically back towards his face at his question. "No, it's alright. I was just expecting your body to be leaner. I thought you had less muscular mass."
"Have you imagined my body often?"
You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from reacting, willing your face to keep the blush at bay. "That's not what I meant. It's my professional instinct that kicks in when I look at a person, to see what might look best on them."
"Any suggestions for me?" Armand asked, a little smirk forming on his face.
"You don't need it. From what I've seen you're very aware of your commanding presence and you dress accordingly to your status."
"You're being generous."
"I'm being honest. It's your choice to believe me or not."
Without further ado, you got into work starting from his legs, each time scribbling down the measurements on the sheet you had brought with you. The position was a bit awkward when you stopped to think about it. You were on your knees, while Armand's looming and even taller figure was towering over you. You could feel the weight of his power pressing on your shoulders but, surprisingly, that only seemed to trigger a sense of thrill in the pit of your stomach.
Once you were done with his legs, you stood back up to your feet, raising your head to look at Armand, who had been awfully quiet and still during the whole process.
"Do you mind stepping down, so I can take your place?" you asked in your best professional voice. "I need to measure your bust, arms and shoulders, and I'm going to struggle from down here."
"Of course," Armand replied immediately, following your request.
You lifted your leg on the stand as you moved to take his previous position, when you felt Armand's hand on the small of your back help you with the movement. His other followed right afterwards, resting softly on your waist to prevent your body from losing its balance.
"Thank you," you murmured awkwardly. "But I could manage on my own."
Armand's lips quirked a bit in the corner, but didn't comment anything further.
You were the same height now, and close enough for you to fully let his scent invade your senses. It was a unique fragrance, and you could not deny how affected you were by inhaling it inside you. In addition to that, his eyes were mere inches from yours in this position and you noticed for the first time, despite the peculiar colour that no human could possess, how warm they felt when they made contact with yours.
"Is there something wrong with my face?"
His voice brought you back to reality. You diverted your gaze, blinking quickly to get your focus back completely. You fidgeted with the tape measure a couple of times before continuing with the task at hand. Thankfully, Armand's stillness was helpful, your mind now set again on getting all the required measurements you would need for his suit, but you were aware his attention never strayed away from you for a second, so intense it actually felt like a touch on your skin.
"All done," you said, as you removed the tape from the front of his shoulders. You raised your head instinctively to look at him, a loud gasp leaving your mouth at his proximity.
You could feel his breath on your cheek, certain that Armand could feel yours as well.
None of you moved for a few seconds, bodies frozen in the moment as you simply stood there staring at each other. You were the first to step away, jumping down quickly from the stand so you could grab your sheet again and write down the last measurements.
"I'll have your suit ready in a week, is that okay with you?" you asked, giving Armand your back. You didn't know what had just happened, but you couldn't bring yourself to look at him for the time being.
"Yes."
"Do you need anything else?"
"I'd like to invite to the première of the show, if you're interested in coming to see it."
You stopped writing on the paper at his words, still keeping your back turned. What were you supposed to say? Would it be awkward for you to attend? Santiago tried to convince you a few times, but you always used your work as a fair way to refuse. But it was Armand asking you this time, and somehow all the nerves in your body were compelling you to say yes.
You willed your body to turn back around, feeling brave enough to make eye-contact again. "I'd love to."
The words were out in the air now, and you knew Armand wouldn't allow you to take them back. Luckily for you, you had no intention to.
---
The day of the première you spent an awful amount of time in front of your wardrobe to choose an appropriate dress. When you used to go to the opera with your parents, you had always worn your most expensive gown as the occasion was also meant to show off your family's wealth.
You didn't know what kind of show you were about to see, but you had a feeling you should go with a more sober outfit, though still elegant enough to look good. You opted for a cinnamon brown A-line skirt with three red ochre buttons at the top that matched with the silk shirt you had in the same shade of colour.
You decided not to wear any tights underneath. It was a cold night, but you loathed the feeling of their texture on your skin. Your winter coat would be enough to keep your body warm.
You looked at yourself on last time in the mirror and, when you felt quite satisfied with the result, you put on your Victorian boots and left your apartment.
Your walk towards Pigalle was quicker than you thought, the cold air forcing you to speed up your steps as your heels clicked loudly on the cobbled streets.A small crowd was gathered outside the entrance, moving slowly inside the theatre.
Your assigned seat was in the fourth row right in front of the stage and, as you waited for the show to start, you looked around the place to commit it to memory.
It was smaller than the theatres you used to attend and less opulent, which you took as a good sign. It was very dim lit though, the dark walls casting a shadow on all the audience. As you studied the upper levels on your right, your gaze stopped at the figure standing against the wooden banister taking in the scenery below.
Armand.
His attention shifted towards you in a second, giving you a small nod as a welcome that you returned with a small smile. It was interesting to see him in his element, as it had been the other way around until now.
When the few lights around the stalls were switched off, you diverted your gaze. The show was about to start.
You didn't know what you were expecting to see, the poster outside not giving much away, but surely not small plays all circling around death. And all brutally executed.
You resisted the temptation to look up at Armand in judgement, as you weren't getting the reasoning behind such macabre choices, though you were sure it was clearly showing on your face.
Everything changed with the last scene. You frowned as a young girl came running on stage screaming. Normally you would say she was truly giving all of herself in the act, but deep down you knew she wasn't performing.
The girl was really frightened.
You leaned forward slightly, your eyes moving around on stage before settling on Santiago budsy bewitching the audience with his monologue. That's when it happened. You saw two fangs shining in his mouth a second before they came down to bite violently on the girl's neck.
This wasn't a play. It was real. You didn't have any proof of that, but your brain had already decided that was the only possible truth.
As the girl supposedly fainted in Santiago's arms, you finally turned to look at Armand. You found his eyes already on you as if he was waiting for your reaction. It made sense now why everybody in the company had eyes so unnatural, because they were.
Because they were all vampires.
You stood up from your seat quickly, almost running out of the theatre. It wasn't out of fear that you were leaving before the play ended, that was what was scaring you the most.
The scene you had witnessed excited you. The idea that you'd been interacting with creatures that could have ended your life in a blink sent shivers of exhilaration down your spine. The fact that you had been alone with Armand, his face close enough to bite your neck if wanted to — but didn't — was awakening something deep in your core you had never had a taste of before.
You realized your body was taking you to your shop. It was closer to the theatre, and it was your shelter in a way that your apartment could never be. You needed to be in a safe territory, because you knew even without seeing him or hearing him that Armand was following you.
You entered the shop slamming the door behind you without stopping to see if it would actually close or not. You didn't turn on the lights in the main room, opting to wait in the back where you had taken Armand's measurements a fortnight before.
You switched on the two lamps you had in the corners of the room to have a clear enough view of your surroundings. You had hoped to have enough time before his arrival, so that you could slow down your breath and heartbeat, but you weren't so lucky.
The steps were light but you managed to hear them anyway. Or better, Armand wanted you to hear them. Still you were not prepared at the effect the sight had on you, the moment he stepped out of the dark. His grim shadow projected on the walls behind him thanks to the light of the lamps.
"You know the truth."
"Yes."
Your voice was barely above a whisper, and still ragged.
"You're scared."
"No."
Armand tilted his head to the side, amber eyes blaring even brighter than usual. "Prove it."
You went to him, your body not hesitating once as you sidestepped the stand in the middle of the room to reach him. You stopped right in front of Armand, your gaze meeting his as they seemed to be compelled to do each time you were to share the same space.
"Look into my eyes, Armand. Do you see fear?"
You made it sound like a challenge. It was probably a stupid move, a move someone would do if they didn't have a single regard for their own life.
Still, Armand did as you asked. He was scanning your face for an answer, so profoundly you could almost feel him inside your head. Maybe he was.
The silence stretched, your breathing starting to pick up again in anticipation. You could feel your fingers twitch next your sides as you waited.
Armand was on you before your mind could start to process his approach. His lips crashing against yours in a rough kiss as one of his hands got tangles in your hair, while the other went to the small of your back to press your body closer to his.
You followed out of instincts rather than experience, taking a hold of his face and shoulder. His tongue slipped in your mouth the second you parted your lips to breathe. He was devouring you in a way you should have expected from a vampire, and you were struggling to match his rhythm.
Armand broke the contact first. His eyes searching for yours while he pushed your body backwards, placing his hands on your hips to direct you. You back met the table you had against the wall before he lifted you to sit on it with frightening ease.
"You never say or act the way I expect you to. It's maddening how you can disrupt my balance by simply existing."
You were so disoriented by the whole situation you weren't sure if he was giving you a compliment or insulting you.
"Are you going to kill me?"
Armand let out a breathy laugh, the air touching the skin of your face softly. "Do you think I would be standing here between your legs if I wanted to kill you?"
"I don't know. It seems fitting for your kind to seduce your preys before you eat them, makes the hunt more palatable."
"Such a brilliant mind you have."
You gasped the moment you felt Armand's hand touch your leg, caressing the skin behind your knee before moving higher toward your thigh, your skirt rising to welcome him. You knew where he was going and yet you didn't how to prepare yourself at the contact.
Your legs opened wider on their own accord, showing Armand how willing your body was to have him touch you. When Armand reached your centre, he simply let his palm rest against it, his hand covering all of your core.
You were wet. He could feel it through the fabric of your underwear, still you kept still. You let your back relax against the wall behind as you waited for his next move.
Armand moved your underwear to the side, two of his fingers coming up to your clit applying pressure with fast and firm circles. You moaned loudly at the action, more intense than the way it felt when you touched yourself alone in your bed deep into the night.
His rhythm never faltered, each precise flick on your clit eliciting a reaction out of you. A light jolt of your legs, a sweet whimper from your lips.
Without warning, Armand entered you with one of his fingers, the sensation so overwhelming in its suddenness that your back bowed into an arch as if on command.
You could feel your muscles stretch as Armand pressed it to the hilt, his palm making contact with your clit again. He stayed there, giving no sign he had any intention to start moving.
You opened your eyes that you didn't even realise you had closed, and looked at him. As expected, Armand was already staring at you, expression unreadable.
"You've never lain with a man."
It wasn't a question. He knew based on a single finger inside you.
"That's true."
"If you feel pain, you stop me. I'm not interested in hurting you."
You took a deep breath. "And in what are you interested in?"
Armand's eyes darkened as finger started moving slowly inside you. "Seeing you cry in pleasure."
The tip of his finger curled against a specific spot inside you, the sudden sensation making you open your legs even more. Armand kept attacking the same spot over and over again, as your whimpers started to grow in volume filling the small room.
A second finger joined the first, your walls immediately welcoming the intrusion without any resistance. You could feel your wetness dripping down your skin and on the table below you.
Armand never stopped the sweet torture, only increasing the pace every few seconds. Your breathing was getting more ragged and you couldn't keep your eyes open any longer. The second his thumb started pressing down on clit, giving it quick flicks that matched the pressure of his fingers inside you, you were done for.
Your climax hit like a tidal wave, your whole body trembling in response as your legs locked against Armand's waist. You wanted the feeling to last forever but you wanted to run away from it at the same time. You had fully lost control of your body and mind.
When the intensity slowly decreased, you managed to open your eyes. Armand's gaze already there to provide you comfort, his pupils so large that they were engulfing completely the amber of his irises.
"No tears in your eyes," Armand commented. "Let me rectify that."
You had no time to react — not that your current situation would have allowed you to — as Armand pushed your legs back against your shoulders, your skirt dropping down on your waist exposing your centre fully to the room and to Armand's focused gaze.
"I'll try to be gentle, ma chérie, but my control is hanging by a thin thread," Armand said, voice showing his effort in restraining himself.
"I don't care," you managed to utter. "I want you, Armand."
That was all the permission he needed. In a single, smooth movement of his hips Armand pushed forward. You didn't know when he had pulled his pants down to his thighs, but considering how out of your mind you were during your orgasm, you weren't really surprised you hadn't noticed.
"Armand, fu—"
You didn't get to finish your sentence. The feeling of Armand's length entering you taking all your breath away. You were expecting pain, like in the stories you had heard when you were old enough to understand, but nothing came. Only a crushing feeling of pleasure.
Armand set a brutal pace from the beginning as he saw you get lost in the throes of bliss after the first thrusts.
The table you were sitting on kept bumping against the wall at every snap of Armand's hips against the skin of your thighs. Those were the only sounds in the room, other than your erratic panting and the occasional moan slipping through Armand's lips.
You weren't going to last. Your hands coming up to hold Armand's wrists, while his hands were still gripping the back of your knees keeping you in the same folded position against the table and wall.
The orgasm hit you both at the same time out of nowhere. You let out a scream so loud and raw you struggled to recognise as your own. Armand sinked his nails in your flesh, breaking the skin, a low groan resonating in his chest.
You stayed in the same position for a few minutes, not that you could do much with your body positively drained. Your sight was blurred, wet tears staining your lashes and your cheeks.
"Are you still with me?" Armand asked, lowering delicately your legs back on the table.
You nodded not knowing if you were able to utter a complete sentence.
Armand's hands were moving softly on your skin, trying to stop the tremors in your muscles. "Now that I found you, I think I'm going to keep you."
You blinked slowly up at him, not really registering his words, as you felt your body gradually drifting off.
Warning: vaginismus, fingering, use of dilators, female orgasm -- if I'm forgetting something let me know.
Word count: 2424
a/n: My darlings, the fourth part is finally here after a week delay. Thank you all for your patience! As always if you want to leave a comment or let me know your thoughts, I'm here.
Summary: You come back from your trip and Armand helps you unpack your bags. He finds one of your dilators in the suitcase and gives you the perfect proposal.
Desclaimer: English is not my first language
You've been on a business trip for a few days, and you couldn't wait to be back home again. You were exhausted and the only thing you wanted was to sleep in your bed with Armand's arms around you.
When you finally crossed the threshold of your house, a sense of relief filled your lungs. You discarded your suitcase by the front door as you went straight to the little library in your living room, your mind set on getting to Armand as soon as possible.
You knew he'd heard you come in, he probably knew you were coming since the taxi turned into your street. Armand was standing with his back turned, elegantly browsing a book in his hands. You quickened your steps, wanting to reach him before he decided to stop pretending he was actually reading instead of being focused on your approach.
You hugged him from behind, your hands coming to rest on his stomach while you rubbed your cheek softly in the middle of his back. You were behaving like a cat, but you had missed his physical presence around you so intensely the last few days, and you needed an extra dose of Armand.
"Are you tired, my love?" Armand asked you, a tinge of mirth clear in his voice.
"More in need of a good shower, I think."
"Then go, I'll unpack your bags."
Normally you would have objected to the offer, but you really wanted to get rid of the dread you were feeling after having spent hours at the airport and on your flight. So, you gave Armand a quick kiss on his lips, before disappearing into the bathroom.
You took your time in washing your body, having a field with all the new products Armand had bought in your absence. You wondered how much time he had spent on his iPad while you were away, ending up buying a whole range of different things you were sure he was going to show you later.
Not that you minded. Armand had impeccable taste.
You watched the soap going down the drain as you let the water rain over you without moving. You closed your eyes for a few minutes, letting yourself enjoy the feeling a while longer before stepping out of the shower.
You dried your skin and hair quickly with a towel before wrapping it around your body. You had been so eager to finally wash yourself that you didn't bring clean clothes to wear.
You left the bathroom still with only the towel covering your body, your wet hair loose on your shoulders and back.
The sight of Armand sitting on the bed waiting for you welcomed you the second you entered the room. A magnificent sight, of course, but that was not what got your attention. Your eyes zeroed immediately on the object in his hand.
Your dilator.
The number 3 you had packed in the suitcase before leaving for your business trip. You had completely forgotten about it.
Armand simply looked at you as you stepped closer to him, only stopping when you reached the spot between his open legs. Even while sitting down, you were only a few inches taller than him.
"I always bring one with me when I travel, just in case."
Armand's gaze was still fixed on yours, interrupted only by his slow blinking every few seconds. "Did you use it?"
You nodded slowly. "Every night."
"Every night?"
You nodded again. "Well, if our objective is to sooner or later include penetration when we are intimate, my therapist suggested not to skip a day with my exercises, to keep training the muscles."
Armand hummed lowly at your reply, the hand not holding the dilator raising to touch your thigh, fully exposed below the hem of the towel.
"Did you do them today?"
"Not yet." Your voice came out in a whisper, Armand's caresses on your skin sending pleasant shivers along your spine.
"Would you like to play out your fantasy…" The hand now crawling up your inner thigh, "…of me using the dilator on you?"
Your breath hitched, your heartbeat increasing in anticipation. "Only if it's something you want to do."
"My love, I've been thinking about it since the moment you mentioned it."
You looked into Armand's eyes, searching for hesitation or a single hint of doubt regarding this proposal, but you found nothing. He was completely sure in his offer, and you relaxed fully at the prospect.
You stayed silent a few seconds more, the change of atmosphere clear in the room, highlighted by Armand's never-stopping touch on your skin.
"Let's do it, then."
A twinkle passed through his gaze at your reply, as if Armand had been sitting there simply waiting for the right signal to get into action.
The hand on your thigh disappeared under your towel in a blink, its destination clear, and you welcomed the soft touch on your core with a small gasp.
"So wet already," Armand said, closing his eyes in pleasure like he was the one being touch in his most intimate parts. "You're always so beautifully ready for me, my love."
Armand touched your body like an instrument he was perfectly natural at playing, and each time he still managed to find new ways to arouse your most sensitive spots. All you could do was to accept the sweet torture every single time.
Your breath quickened in seconds, your hands coming to rest on Armand's shoulders for balance as you felt your legs begin to tremble with each spark of pleasure. Armand was alternating between small circles on your clit and delicate strokes against your entrance, careful not to press the muscles in fear of hurting you.
"Get on on the bed, my love," Armand said, kissing you softly on your chest, the fabric of the towel preventing you from feeling the touch of his lips on your skin. "Take off your towel, and lie on it. We'll need it."
You followed his instructions immediately, positioning yourself with your back against the cushions and the towel right under the bottom half of your body. You had seen each other naked quite a few times by now, the shyness you had once felt completely gone.
Armand didn't miss a single movement of your body and when he was certain you were comfortably settled on the bed, he placed the dilator on the duvet before taking off his shirt. He folded it carefully, putting it on the chair at the back near the door.
You watched him move around the room in complete silence, the anticipation for what was about to happen thick in the air, your breathing and body fully affected by the scenario in front of you and inside your head.
Armand could seem unbothered from the outside, but you knew him well enough and could feel the energy buzzing beneath his skin. He went to the dresser right to your left, opening the first drawer to take out the bottle of lube.
Always so meticulous in following all the steps in the exact order.
The moment his gaze was back on you a shiver ran through your whole body, the muscles in your legs slightly twitching. Armand was still wearing his black slacks, silky and comfortable, and you were certain he wasn't going to take them off anytime soon, mind set on a single mission.
Your pleasure.
Armand joined you on the bed right after, resting on his knees in the space you left in between your legs, the bottle of lube and the dilator next to him. He gave you a warm smile, his hands coming up to caress your thighs in comfort.
"Shall we start?"
"Yes."
Armand leaned over your body, one of his hands resting close to your head for a moment as he pressed a light kiss on your lips. You raised your hands before he could pull away, holding his face close enough for your to deepen the contact.
You felt his body relax above you, prolonging the kiss a few seconds more as your tongues finished their usual dance.
Armand broke away first, his nose stroking softly against yours before moving down your body again. He left a few more kisses on your skin, in the middle of your chest and right below your bellybutton. You would have loved to feel his mouth on your centre again, but you knew both of you would only get sidetracked and lose your focus, if he did.
Armand raised to his knees again, finally picking up the dilator and lube abandoned on the bed. He uncapped the bottle, squeezing out a copious amount of liquid on his hand. He warmed it up by rubbing his hands together for a moment, and once he was satisfied enough, covered the whole length of dilator.
He was thorough in his task, not rushing in the preparation that was required. You stopped yourself from telling him that there was enough lube on the object now, and that any more would make it slip out of his hands and make it hard to use, but you wouldn't have had the time to say anything anyway. Armand spread the excess liquid on his hands over your clit, folds and entrance, not leaving a single spot untouched and pulling out a quiet moan from the back of your throat.
"Are you comfortable in this position?" Armand asked, studying the muscles in your inner thighs for any unwanted tension.
Your legs were spread apart, your knees resting on the mattress. You didn't know why but the spread eagle was a good position when you were lying on your back, allowing you to relax your core muscles.
"I am."
You stayed still as Armand moved the dilator close to your lips, and you focused on taking long and deep breaths to keep the nervousness at bay and preventing your body from tensing up.
Armand moved the length of the dilator between your lips, sliding it easily back and forth with the aid of the lube and your natural wetness. It was a pleasant feeling, already different compared to the way you normally did it.
After a couple of strokes more, Armand positioned the tip right at your entrance. The muscles clenched with a small spasm in response, and you closed your eyes to bring them to relax again.
"Go ahead," you whispered, still keeping your eyes shut.
Armand didn't reply and, after a few seconds of stillness, you felt the dilator breach your walls. Your lips opened in a sigh, feeling yourself relax even more when no stabs of pain shot up from your core. All you could feel was a comfortable stretch.
You fluttered your eyes open again, your gaze meeting Armand's immediately. He was looking at you with his softest expression, yet you could still perceive the arousal simmer underneath.
"You're doing very good, my love."
His free hand was resting on your hip, the touch helping you feel grounded as Armand pushed the dilator further inside you. Halfway in you felt a wave of pleasure hit you at once, making you arch your back slightly and your skin flush in a blush.
This was a first. You had never felt pleasure using your dilators before.
"Did I hurt you?"
You shook your head not really trusting your voice.
Armand pulled out and the slide sent little sparks along your limbs, a long moan finally leaving your mouth. Armand repeated the action a few times, getting deeper with each stroke until the full length of the dilator was inside you. He kept it there for a moment, eyes focused on the sight of your lips stretched around the object without tension, before he started moving it back and forth.
Armand started with a slow rhythm, making sure the threat of pain was truly gone, and then, the pace gradually increased. Your moans turned into whimpers quickly in between your rapid breaths.
"Fuck," you sighed, your hips starting to move on their own accord to match Armand's thrusts. "It's too much."
"Do you want me to stop?"
"Please, no."
In a second, Armand pulled out the dilator, the feeling of emptiness immediate.
Your eyes went straight to Armand, ready to insult him for doing the exact opposite of what you wanted but stopped immediately at the sight in front of you.
Armand raised his hand to his face and you watched him bite off the nails of his middle and ring fingers. He leaned over you again, holding himself up by resting his other hand next your head like he did before.
"I want you to come on my fingers," he said firmly, staring into your eyes.
Armand didn't wait for your reply, he found all the confirmation he needed written on your face. He inserted his fingers slowly inside you, wanting to enjoying the sensation of entering you for the first time. Your walls welcomed him, the wetness making the glide easier.
"Armand," you moaned his name, unable to utter any other coherent words.
At the desperation in your voice, the pace of Armand's fingers quickened as you felt him curl them inside you, pressing against a specific spot that sent jolts of pleasure from your core to the tips of your hair.
You were close.
"Don't hold it," Armand whispered on your lips, the bliss of the moment consuming him too. "Let go."
Your body heard him perfectly, and obeyed. Your limbs stiffened and your breath got stuck in your throat as your climax struck you stronger than ever before.
Armand's fingers never stopped moving inside you, prolonging your pleasure as long as your body could allow without overstimulating you. He slowed down only when he finally felt your muscles relax and your limbs growing soft.
"Are you okay, my love?"
"More than okay," you replied, your voice weak. "But I think I might need another shower."
"A bath is a better choice, I believe."
"I agree," you said. "As long as you join me and let me take care of you."
You didn't need to explain what you were referring to, the tent in his pants clear as day. You accomplished something you never thought possible even just a year ago, and Armand played an important part in all of it, so giving him something back was the bare minimum for you.
You were ready for the next steps, the light at the end of the tunnel was finally close enough for you to touch.
armand is the type to cover your mouth while fucking you into the mattress
leant over your back, working you slow and hard. all you can feel is him, so full of him. each thrust making you see stars and ball your hands in his stupidly silky sheets because it’s just so much. every broken ‘please’ that escaped you was music to his ears.
“shhh,” his hand suddenly covered your mouth. holding you still. “quiet now. that’s it… taking me so well,” his voice steady in your ear. a stark contrast to the way his hips met your ass over and over again, leaving you mindless from pleasure. “good, so good for me, just take it.” the rhythm of his hips picked up, effectively turning your brain off.
it’s not that he doesn’t want to hear your broken moans and whimpers, he just loves how your eyes roll back when his palm muffled your pathetic sounds. the display of control over you, using you so thoroughly, lit a fire under him. armand liked you best like this, a toy he can use, love too hard, and break over and over again. obediently, you took it over and over again.
he shut his eyes with a soft groan, focusing on how you felt around his cock and muffled sounds from beneath his palm.
leaning your head back to catch your eye, he taunted, “do you like when i take you like this?” driving as deep into you as he could for emphasis, “thoroughly mine.” another hard roll of his hips, and his sickeningly soft voice guided you. “just take it, take it all, my favorite toy.”
You and Armand went on a date, as you liked to do when both of you had a few days to spend fully together.
You intruded yourselves in the city Planetarium, talking about the stars and the mythology behind them. You had chosen to wear a short dress that reached the middle of your thighs, and Armand seemed very focused on the way it hugged your curves, his hands slipping below your waist every now and then.
You knew what awaited for you once you got home, a tingle of anticipation already forming in the pit of your stomach. Still, knowing your fate never prepared you for the way your nights were going to unfold every single time, Armand a master of the art of intimacy way beyond anything you had experienced before him.
And now, here you were.
Face down on the mattress, a pillow below your belly to position your hips in a slightly elevated prone bone position, and Armand caging you in above you with his arms on both sides of your head.
You were holding his wrists with your hands, trying to anchor yourself on the bed as Armand's powerful thrusts were threatening to push you up against the headboard every time his hips made contact with your ass.
Your mouth was open, but nothing was coming out of it besides moans, whines and stuttered versions of Armand's name.
"You feel so good, my love," Armand whispered next to your ear, his breath fanning softly against your hair. "Warm. Soft. And utterly at my mercy."
No spoken words were truer than those. You were at Armand's mercy, and there was no other place you'd have wanted to be right now. But it was getting intense, his thrusts metronomic and precise against your most sensitive spot.
You were feeling overwhelmed, though not enough to resort to use your safe word yet. You tried to squeeze Armand's wrists as a counter reflex but you realized in that moment that their positions were now reversed with Armand holding yours down and pinning you against the mattress.
You couldn't move, your body fully restrained under Armand's and, if with someone else you would have felt panic arise, with him all you were experiencing was a spike in your pleasure as your climax hit you out of nowhere.
No sound came out of your lips, body and soul succumbing to the feeling as tremors took hold of your limbs. You were lying there prisoner to your orgasm, tears streaming down your eyes at the intensity.
"Little one."
You heard Armand utter your name, but he sounded far away, almost muffled as if cotton had started growing in your eardrums.
You tried to take a deep breath to answer him, though only a broken whisper came out instead.
Armand was on you in a second, slowly turning you on your back so he could look at you clearly in your face. His eyes widened at the sight of tears still staining your cheeks. You must not have looked very pretty in that moment.
"My love, can you hear me?"
You nodded, the movement slow and limited by Armand's hands holding your face, his thumbs wiping your tears away with delicate touches.
"Have I hurt you?"
You frowned at him at the question. Was that what he thought had happened?
"I'm fine," you said, your voice still quiet but at least you were starting to fully function again. "I just got overwhelmed suddenly."
"You should have stopped me if it was getting too intense." Armand kissed your forehead, his shoulders finally relaxing once he realized you were unharmed.
"It wasn't a bad sensation, only unexpected. I enjoyed it."
Armand leaned back to look at you in your eyes, surely searching for any signs of discomfort he feared you were hiding from him. There were none, of course.
"What do you need, my love? A warm bath? Something to drink?"
"Can you hold me for a while, please? I need to feel you."
A warm smile started to grow on his face and, after leaving another small kiss on your face, he moved to lie down on the bed taking you with him.
You rested your head on his chest, your left leg coming up to circle his waist to fully press your body against his. His hands were moving on your skin, one slowly down your spine and the other on your thigh, as his nails tickled you in their passage.
"You're still shaking," Armand mumbled lowly against your hair. "I apologise for not realizing your situation sooner."
"You did nothing wrong. I didn't want you to stop."
Armand stayed quiet for a few seconds, his hands never stopping once in their movements. The soft feeling was making your eyelids heavier and you weren’t sure you'd be able to resist the pull of sleep if he continued, but there was something you wanted to say.
"I hope I didn’t disappoint you. I feel like I ruined the moment with the way I reacted."
Armand stilled immediately, and you mentally cursed yourself for making the situation even worse.
"Look at me." You didn't move. "Now."
You raised a little from your position on his chest, your eyes shy as they finally met his gaze. The way he was looking at you was firm, but you could still perceive the softness underneath.
"Never say anything of the sort again," Armand uttered, his hands cradling your face preventing you from even attempting to divert your gaze. "Every action you do, or any emotion you feel, is never wrong to me, and this is how it will always be."
Fuck.
You were going to cry.
The emotional turmoil of the last hour catching up to you with a final blow, and the new tears dripping down your face were its final release.
You hid in the crook of Armand's neck, your arms circling around him as much as you could.
"That's good, my love," Armand whispered, his hold tightening to provide all the comfort you needed. "Let go."
You didn't know how long you stayed in that position, with Armand taking care of you with light caresses and soft words.
It was the perfect ending to a splendid night as many were and many will be. And despite the emotional rollercoaster you went through, you wouldn't want to change a single second of it.
i just know daniel would eat you out like he's starving!
his arms slung around your thighs pulling you closer as he dives into your cunt, and it makes his biceps bulge out, showing off just how muscular he still is at his tender age of sixty-nine.
he'd be pushing you down and manoeuvring you to close your legs around his head, trapping him, sufficating him, and he would pull your hand into his curls so you can tug at them.
his stubble scratching up your sensitive inner thighs, a delicious painful friction against your pussy.
he'd be groaning and whining into you. pretty nose rubbing your clit as he tongue fucks you. he's so eager and he would hold you down until he is done, not until you've come. whining and squirming when you're overstimulated won't help, those arms aren't just eye-candy, he has the strength to hold you down until he's satisfied!
Warning: vaginismus, mutual masturbation (light), oral sex (male receiving), orgasm, cum swallowing -- if I'm forgetting something let me know.
Word count: 2644
a/n: my lovelies, here is the third part! I wanted to shift the focus to Armand for once, while still discussing the main topic that brought this little series to life. I hope you'll enjoy it -- as always if you want to let me know if you liked it, I'm all ears!
Summary: Since learning about your condition, you and Armand have been discussing it almost on a daily basis. Today, though, it's time for you to return the favour, and Armand won't stop you.
Desclaimer: English is not my first language
AO3 - Masterlist - Part II
You and Armand had established a specific evening routine whenever both of you were at home. After both of you had your dinner — you in your living room, and Armand wherever he went to find some poor unfortunate — you settled on the sofa to watch a movie.
It was cozy, and probably boring from the outside, but you really enjoyed your quiet nights when they happened. At first, you had wondered if Armand truly found it interesting to just sit inside and watch silly romantic comedies with you as someone who had experienced Venice in full Renaissance, but he always assured you that there was no better place for him to be than next to you on the sofa at night.
That was before your relationship had shifted to a more intimate dynamic.
You still had your movies on, but most of the time you barely reached the half of them because Armand used those occasions to ask you questions. He wanted to know more about your condition, even going as far as reading plenty of books on his own explaining it thoroughly — he probably knew more than you by now, from a medical and theoretical point of you.
Still, it was your actual experiences that Armand wanted to know. Which therapies were working for you better, where you were still struggling, how he could support you during the whole process. He was very attentive with each step, not that you were surprised by this side of him.
However, you had to calm him down a few times when you talked about your previous partners. You made him promise he would not turn any of them into food. That would have been unfortunate, and a pain in the ass to deal with.
"Today I read this section that explained the benefit of dilators to train pelvic floors muscles. Do you use them?" Armand asked, one of his hands tracing small patterns on your thighs as you rested your legs on his lap. The movie of the night already forgotten.
"I do. I don't particularly like them, but they're really useful especially if penetration is a person's ultimate goal."
He blinked slowly at you at your words. "If they are beneficial, why do you not like them?"
"I don't know if you saw any pictures of dilators to have a general idea of their shape, but in a way they are very similar to dildos. Though, for me, it always feels like I'm doing physiotherapy, I can't take advantage of them as alternative sex toys. But—"
You stopped yourself before you could continue the sentence. You knew what you wanted to say, though it sounded ridiculous in your mind, so you could not imagine how stupid the concept was once said out loud. You could feel the blush rise on your cheeks as one of your fantasies played out like a reel inside your brain.
Armand was still staring at you in total calmness, but you saw him quirk his mouth imperceptibly.
"Yes?"
"It's just something I thought about but still haven't discussed with my therapist," you blurted out as you played with your hands to ease the nervousness. "Maybe if a partner — a trusted partner — used the dilators on me, as if they were using a sex toy, it would be easier for me to manage those exercises. It can be a useful usage of the instruments, but it's also a fantasy of mine I must admit."
You let your words settle in the air, watching carefully for Armand's reaction. He was looking at you the same way as before, his hand still moving on your leg and inching higher on your thigh. The only difference were his slightly dilated pupils, and you could only notice because after months together where you spent most of the time looking at him and learning his mannerisms, you knew how to read him. Not always, of course, but often enough.
"It will be my pleasure to help you like that, my love."
"Not now, though."
Armand nodded with a soft smile. "When you're ready."
"But I can show them to you, if you want." You were hesitant, but this was an important step forward you felt you were ready to do. "Especially because there's something I need to know."
"Show me."
You jumped off the sofa, quickly running to your room to get the box where you kept your dilators in. You had a drawer dedicated to all your most private belongings that Armand knew not to open without your permission, so you were fairly sure he had never stumbled upon them before.
When you returned, you sat back in your previous spot. You could already feel how Armand's attention had zeroed in on what you were holding in your hands.
"The brand I have has five dilators all with different sizes. Normally you have to reach level three, since it's considered the average size of a penis. You venture to lever four and five only if required."
"So you wanted to inquire about the size of my penis. Is that correct, my love?"
You felt a wave of warmth hit you at once, surely your cheeks were glowing red even in the low light of your living room. "Basically, yes. Not in a dirty way, just to be aware."
"Even if it were in a dirty way as you said, you should not justify yourself with me. I don't want you to shy away from your desires."
You nodded, before lowering your gaze down to your dilators all splayed out on the sofa. "Which one is it, then?"
Armand took his time to answer, his breathing light, while his eyes moved from one dilators to the next. He raised one of his hands from his lap, the movement slow and elegant as it came to rest on one of them. He didn't utter a single word, he simply stayed there, his eyes locked with yours again.
Level four.
"Shit," you whispered.
"Are you scared?"
"More anxious than scared. I can barely reach half of level three, and I've been using them for almost two years now."
Armand took your hand with his, gently running his thumb on your knuckles in comfort. "There's no rush, my love. We'll take one small step at a time, and we'll do it together."
"Yes, I know. It's just that I really want to have sex with you, and all I see in front of me is this insurmountable obstacle and nothing else." You were frustrated. You hated that an action so simple and natural was something so difficult for you just because your body was built different.
Armand leaned forward, his lips leaving a small kiss on your forehead. "I understand your frustration, but don't let it drive you."
Before you could come up with a reply, his mouth was on yours and whatever you might have wanted to say simply flew out of your head. You channeled all your exasperation in the kiss, starting a battle of tongues you wanted to win.
Armand released the hold on your hand to move his fingers under your shirt. It was actually his shirt, but you always stole his clothes to bed when you wanted to avoid wearing pants in your sleep, so now he had free access to your legs without the barrier of fabric in the way.
You opened your thighs a little, fully aware of what the final destination of his hand was. Still, you could not contain the gasp you let out once it reached your core.
"I love how easily you get wet whenever I touch you," Armand whispered against your lips. His left hand was lightly caressing your jaw, the rhythm matching the one of the fingers rubbing your clit.
"It's embarrassing, actually," you managed to say, your hips following the movement of his hand between your legs, the lace of your underwear providing additional fiction.
"It's arousing. It's the only acceptable truth."
Even with pleasure fogging your mind, your body wasn't fully lost in the feeling yet. One of your hands, that were holding onto Armand's shoulders, started its descent down his torso never stopping until it reached his cock, hard against the fabric of his pajamas.
It was Armand's turn to gasp this time. He leaned back to have a clear view of your face, but neither of you stopped the movement of your hands, keeping the mutual touch going while staring deep into each other's eyes.
"You don't have to do that," Armand said in a gentle breath, his lids lowering every time your fingers touched the tip of his length.
"I want to. It's my turn to pleasure you tonight, you promised."
Armand let out a breathy laugh. "I promised no such thing."
"It was an affirmative answer, its difference from a promise is quite slim." How you both managed to stay coherent in the aroused state you were in was beyond your comprehension.
You slid down the sofa in a quick movement, intent on settling between Armand's legs on the floor. He caught you around your waist before you could touch the ground, your eyes raising to his in confusion. In a blink, Armand grabbed one of the cushions, throwing it on the floor right in the spot you wanted to settle in.
"I won't let you hurt your knees just for the sake of giving me pleasure, my love."
You smiled softly at him. It was typical of Armand to be so attuned to your well-being even during an intimate moment such as this. You found the most comfortable position for you on the cushion, before directing your attention fully back to Armand.
You rested your hands on his legs, caressing his thighs in delicate strokes. "Can you tell me how you like it usually?"
"I like whatever you want to do. As long as it's you touching me, I will like everything."
Sweet, but that's not what you were asking and you knew why he was thinking like that. "Armand, sweetheart, that's not how it works. You are the focus now, it's not about what I want to do to you, but how you like to be touched."
Armand sat still for a moment, and you waited for him patiently like he always did with you. You could see his hands clench and unclench against the sofa.
"I normally adapt myself according to the other person's needs. I don't think I really developed a preference during the centuries."
Okay, this was bad.
"I don't want you to think back to your worst sexual encounters, but if you try to recall the most pleasant ones, can you find anything that worked right for you?"
Armand took a deep breath, closing his eyes in thought. They were moving behind his eyelids scanning scenes of his life, as if he was lost in a dream.
"I think," he started as he opened his eyes again, reconnecting with you and the present moment, "I think I like soft touches more, when it comes to oral sex, at least. I always felt sort of powerless when someone was being rough in their approach."
You sat up on your knees to reach his lips for a small kiss. "That's perfectly fine, sweetheart. Thank you for telling me."
You reached for the waistband of his pants to pull them down enough to free his cock that sprang out against his stomach. You swallowed faintly at the sight. Armand didn't lie, he really was the level four size of your dilators, but you set aside that worry for the time being.
You took the length in your hand, keeping your grip light as you gave a tentative stroke up and then down. Armand visibly shuddered with the movement, his mouth opening lightly but his eyes always locked with yours.
You kept the slow pace as you brought your hand back to the tip, your thumb coming down to circle around the slit, spreading around the precum gathered there in small circles.
"Is this okay?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes."
"Can I do more?"
"Yes."
You lowered your head trying not to break eye-contact as long as it was possible. You grazed the tip of Armand's cock with your lips, making him feel your breath on his skin, before letting your tongue come out to lick the slit. You felt Armand's muscle tense under your left hand still on his thigh, as he let out a weak moan.
You took that reaction as the encouragement you needed to keep going. You opened your mouth more so you could welcome the head of his cock inside, giving it a small suck.
"Fuck, love," Armand whimpered, your warm mouth a stark contrast to his colder skin.
You started bobbing your head up and down his length, each time taking more inside your mouth. Still you kept the same slow and steady pace you started with. It probably felt like sweet torture to Armand, but by the sounds of it he was fully enjoying the moment.
"Do not take more than you feel comfortable," Armand said once half of his length was in your mouth. You would have smiled if your current position wasn't preventing you from doing so.
You somehow managed to raise your eyes and meet Armand's gaze. His pupils were fully dilated now and his eyebrows were scrunched in pleasure. He was close, you could feel it if the amount of precum he was leaking wasn't a clear signal of his impending orgasm.
Taking a deep breath through your nose, you got yourself ready to give the final blow. You stood still for a second with only the head in your mouth, before descending down in a single smooth slide swallowing the entire length of Armand's cock down your throat.
Armand let out a long and low moan at the action, his upper body hunching forward from the feeling.
"Love, I'm cl—," Armand tried to say, his fingers getting entangled inside your hair to ground himself or pulling you off, you weren't sure.
You could feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you didn't move your mouth from its position. Carefully you willed the muscles in your throat to gulp around Armand's cock, and with the additional constriction he was coming.
You drank up everything Armand was offering, your eyes closed in concentration to avoid choking inadvertently on his cum. The taste wasn't unpleasant, though you could feel a hint of blood on your tongue mixing with the usual sperm. Once you were done you slowly raised your head, mindful of how sensitive Armand was now.
You barely got the chance to take a full breath before Armand's mouth was on you, kissing you deeply, his hands coming up to cradle your face.
"I didn't hurt you, did I?"
You smiled sweetly at Armand. "No, you didn't." You voice was a little hoarse, but it was worth it.
"Did you enjoy it?"
"I should be the one asking this question, Armand, not you," you laughed, as your hands came up to hold his that were still on your cheeks. "I believe the wet spot I left on the cushion is answer enough. Also, oral sex is probably the only way I have to rightfully satisfy a partner, so I got pretty good with it in time."
Armand's eyes darkened in irritation. "Never say something like that again about yourself."
"It's true."
"It isn't."
You wouldn't argue with him about this, you knew Armand could be unrelenting if he set his mind on something.
He lifted you from the ground, pulling you in his lap in a straddle. "Thank you for existing, my love."
"Thank you for letting me love you, Armand," you whispered against his lips. "It's as easy as breathing."
---
I think it was both dirty and cute at the same time this part, but let me know if you were still satisfied with the result.
I don't know if anyone checked, but I've updated the Masterlist so a fourth part is in the works. Title: "opening".
Xx
Taglist: @park4parks (so sorry for adding you so late)
cw ; nsfw, sexual themes, afab reader, edging, overstimulation, sexual torture, psionic restraint, slight(?) sadism on armand’s part
hey so we all agree armand does not let you cum for hours on end right. right? right.
mr. psychosexual torture over here gains immense satisfaction from watching an overstimulated little thing writhe and beg, sob and cry underneath him - unable to move, of course - as he brings them right up, up, up towards the edge, a feather touch away from orgasm before withdrawing his fingers, face gentle and stoic with the slightest hint of a smirk twitching at the corners of his lips as they bawl.
armand soothes you, licks his hands clean of your essence before bringing them up to your lips to drink the taste of the remainders of your slick and his sweet saliva - and then caressing your wet face, eyes and cheeks puffy with tears from hours of agonizing constraint, he coos at your pathetic show of affliction. your lips are bitten and bloody from your witless attempt to distract from the feeling of his inhumanly perfect ministrations, to which he leans in and captures your swollen mouth with his, licking into it and reveling in the metallic hint of blood peaking out from your raw flesh.
you cry and beg, why, why is he punishing you so, anxiety bubbling in your chest each time you try to move and fail. you’re not restrained, strapped to the bed poles, no, you just can’t move. you’re out in the open, spread out on the bed, sheets thrown on the floor with each gust of wind from the ventilation teasing your drenched skin, yet you’d never felt so claustrophobic and trapped. each time you feel the slightest bit of weakness in your restriction, he mutters in your ear to rest, and you fall right back against the bed.
“punish?” he asks, almost as if he’s genuinely trying to learn how it is that you came to that conclusion. his words, his voice, so gentle and almost romantic in the way he speaks, an invective contrast to his actions that frustrates you to tears. “beloved,” the vampire begins, purring, sat next to you and leaning downward to snarl and graze his perfectly dagger like canines against your bruised neck. a kiss is left under your ear, right on your pulse point, and it lingers, as he memorizes the galvanic rhythm of your blood pumping through your veins, “i ask, how is this a punishment?”
his hand begins to drag right down your chest, your ribs, your tummy and you know exactly where he’s leading it to, you blubber, “no, no, no,” over and over as you’d rather he simply end the abuse then even let you ever finish again. he hums, and lets the tips of his fingers graze your swollen cunt, tapping over your clit - orange eyes lidded over his gaze on your pleading expression.
“you get to feel yourself arrive right above the edge, over and over again - ” and in two fingers go straight into your opening with zero resistance, hooking to the inside part of your clitoris and pressing - you wail immediately, “the pain is exquisite, is it not? you can’t disavow it.” armand drags his fingers out, up between the puffy lips of your pussy, and rubs in tight circles on the sensitive pearl atop your frills. you’d twitch and run from the feeling if you could - he barely allows you to blink.
“and i, get to take you there.” the feeling of his cold tongue languidly licking your neck - over the bumps of your raised and tender flesh where he had drank from you earlier, kissing wetly on what would soon scar, swallowing the slight drops he can get without biting into you once more. “again,” his fingers don’t stop, circles becoming tighter and quicker, flawless in pace and technique, “and again,” the pleasure burns through you like a bush succumbing to a lit cigarette, clawing at your thighs and abdomen, “and again.”
and you’re there, you’re right there and you can taste it, you can smell it, and once more, as soon as the throbbing of your flesh tells him you’re nearly gone, he withdraws.
if you were in control of your body you’d have passed out by now. ten times over, you can’t even produce noise anymore, a dry and squeaky shrill escaping your throat. eyes rolling back in what you can’t tell is agony or pleasure. you can’t remember your name, your surname - did you even have one? all you can muster is meak rasps of his name and pleas, “armand, armand please, please, please.. please armand..”
but it’s for naught, as always, your desperate prayer to the only god you know - armand - is breathed into nothingness, escaping your lungs and aspiring in vain. he hushes you, and ceases his lock on your body, you collapse almost, and you exhale in near panic, desperation filling you.
when he lets you go, you know the end is soon. you know this well. though soon could be a few minutes, an hour, two more - ten. but it’s soon. you hope.
“i’m not testing your limits,” armand hums, smoothing your damp hair back from your forehead, “i know them well.” his voice floats over your body like a cloud, lulling you into as calm a state as you can muster. “i will push you right up against the edge of the cliff,” he presses his wet lips against your ear, your shivering body responding in tandem.
guys i might have to be the one to lock in and finally come back from writers block to write aikawa/kai fanfics from dorohedoro…….there is a disturbing lack…
Ok so random thing I’ve been thinking about, how would shin feel about a reader with a breeding kink…? (‾ε‾“)
Shin never really delved too deeply into the idea of being a father. He'd had a tough life, found a safe place, people to call family, and he was comfortable with that, until he met you.
"Why this?" you asked, now impatient with the distance between your bodies.
"Protection?" Shin returned the question, quickly returning to his initial position, lying on top of you and between your legs.
"We don't need that…" you sighed as you felt Shin brush your entrance with the tip of his cock.
"No?" He chuckled softly. "Are you telling me you want to have my kids? Huh? Fuck…" Shin asked, slowly burying himself inside you.
You bit your lip to suppress a moan. You also had never thought much about being a mother until you started dating Shin. Something about his posture, his behavior. His masculine, independent, and protective manner… his broad shoulders and strong back. You simply wanted him to use you as a personal fucktoy, to bury himself deep inside you and fill you up even after it started leaking and running down your legs. You wanted to carry him inside you for nine months and then repeat the whole process.
"Yes, pl-please…" you whimpered.
Shin particularly loved this side of you, so much so that he sometimes thought about making you round and full, so everyone would know who you belonged to. His eyes traveled down your naked body, your hair spread across the pillow, your expression contorted by the pleasure he was giving you, your breasts following the rhythm of his thrusts into you. He simply loved every inch of you.
Shin's hungry blue eyes traveled down until they were lost in the way your pussy swallowed him, its walls contracting around him viciously. It might have gone unnoticed by you, but you always ruined Shin with the way your pussy milked his cock, with the way your moans sounded, making him harder and harder inside of you.
"Shin please-ngh!" You begged.
"What does my greedy little thing want, uh? Use your-ah… use your words." Shin used one of his free hands to squeeze your cheeks, then lowered himself enough to leave a kiss on the pout that formed.
"Mm… I need more-ngh! Give me more." You pleaded, pulling him closer and closing your legs behind his hips.
Shin's pelvis bumped against yours, stimulating your clit with his blond, trimmed pubic hair. Shin's large hands rose, one grasping yours and pinning them above your head, the other cupping your face, using his thumb to caress your reddened and swollen lower lip.
"So needy…" his voice sounded deep and drawn out, making you shiver and your back arch, your breasts now pressed against his chest.
Shin slid inside you firmly and easily, his warm skin against yours, his blue eyes on you, his low, deep moans hitting your face. But it still wasn't enough, you needed to feel all of him.
"Fuck-s's so good, babe…" you moaned. "The condom…" you tried to continue, but Shin simply kept hitting the right spot without stopping making you stupid.
"Did you say something?" He asked, cocky, before leaving a bite on your cheek.
"Take it off! Oh my god-ah! Take the condom off please-ngh!" You trembled in anticipation, desperate to feel him with nothing in the way.
Shin could even torture you a little more, but he was also desperate to feel you, wet and hot around him. He released you and pulled away, then he pulled out of you and took off the condom. He slid his hand on his hard cock slowly once, twice, three times, looking intently at you.
"Shin…" you whimpered, turning over in bed and getting on all fours, then arching your back for him. "Please…" you looked at him over your shoulder.
Shin laughed, like it didn''t make him shiver and almost cum on the spot. So mean.
"You're unbelievable, insatiable…" He kept saying as he moved closer and adjusted his cock to penetrate you.
"And all yours." You managed to say before moaning his name.
Your fingers closed around the sheets on the bed and your eyes squeezed shut. You wouldn't last much longer now that you could feel him completely inside you, throbbing against your walls. The groan that escaped Shin didn't help much either, pushing you further and further towards the edge.
Shin's hands were firm on your hips, sometimes pulling you back against his thrusts, sometimes holding you in place. You were on the verge of tears from how good he was fucking you.
"Yeah, louder." Shin encouraged, giving you a sharp slap on the ass.
You were already a mess, sweat making your skin glisten, your face wet with tears, and your lips swollen from bites. Shin's thrusts began to lose rhythm, becoming more hurried, pounding inside you.
"Want my cum? Yeah? Oh, your pussy is strangling my fucking dick-ngh." Shin said, leaning over you without stopping his movements. "Want me to make you a mommy?"
Your eyes rolled back, oh how close you were. The only thing coming out of your mouth were broken 'yes's' as you nodded.
"Take it, then," Shin said before giving one last thrust. You both came together, which intensified and prolonged the pleasure. Shin's moans whispered in your ear as his hot, thick cum filled you in spurts. Your whole body trembled, your eyes rolled back, and your pussy gripped him as it swallowed every drop.
could I request kaiman x reader? Maybe the reader is hanging out with kaiman and their group of friends, and reader and kaiman sneak off to have some alone time? ty!!
loved this one! ❤️
Kaiman's strong chest pressed you even tighter against the cold alley wall. The Hole wasn't very safe, but what worried you was being caught by your friends.
"Faster, Kaiman… fuck…" you moaned and tightened around him. "Please, i need more... please, please..."
Kaiman held you tight, as if you weighed nothing, thrusting mercilessly into your poor cunt. It had been a long day of watching you, yearning, and trying to hide it as much as possible, because to the others, you were just friends. Kaiman waited until Nikaido had gotten busy with the others before pulling you into the nearest alley. He needed to feel you, needed the warmth and the wonderful sounds only you could make.
"Love the way you fucking take me…" Kaiman groaned in your ear. "Always so damn wet for me"
You were close. All the adrenaline and Kaiman's hard pace with you, bringing you closer and closer to climax.
"Something about being fucked in public is making you more sensitive? I can't believe you're that perverted, doll." Kaiman laughed, going deeper and deeper. "Be a good girl and cum for me, okay?"
You just nodded, lost in the growing sensation of pleasure. It wasn't long before your moans began to intensify, prompting Kaiman to cover your mouth with his hand. People were still passing by, and it was only a matter of time before the rest of the group noticed you two were gone.
"Tell me, where do you want me?" he asked casually, as your eyes rolled back and you arched, trembling. You could barely answer, which made him smile smugly.
Kaiman removed his hand from your mouth as soon as you came down from your ecstasy, though he was still moving frantically to get his own. It didn't take long either; soon you could feel hot spurts on your thigh, accompanied by a low moan right in your ear. you felt like you could cum again.
You two were leaving the alley when Nikaido and Thirteen appeared, worried expressions softening as Kaiman told a lie about you thinking you saw an old friend.
homelander fauxcest would look a lot like him calling u ‘mommy’ both in and outside the bedroom. as soon as he’s comfortable with u, it’s basically ur new name to him.
he’d also nurse ur nipples like an actual baby. on the couch while he’s lying in your lap, as he’s falling asleep in bed nuzzled between your breasts, when he’s awake before you in the morning. gentle hands push your shirt up or pull your neckline down over the swell of your breasts and he gingerly takes a nipple into his mouth, watching you to make sure u don’t wake up just yet. little moans and hums escape him as the bliss washes over him, and he humps the mattress. or your leg.
homelander fauxcest would be him creating an entire secret fantasy in his head where he’s your bio son and when you fuck him, it’s a little secret between the two of you that ur keeping from ‘daddy’, ur ‘husband’, even if john’s been engaged to u lol.
his dick is purer, gets the job done better than daddy’s and he doesn’t blame u for being tempted to ride ur own son when he’s so handsome and sweet and untouched. the idea of ur husband walking in and seeing his wife and son fuck on their own bed makes him cum even quicker than he usually does, if that’s possible. bonus points if he’s sucking ur nipples while inside u as ur defiling him.
homelander fauxcest would be a healthy obsession with getting u to lactate for him. slipping pills in ur drinks and food, massaging ur breasts idly whenever he feels like it, sucking harder to get u stimulated and producing already. and eventually in due time, when all his hard work pays off and maybe ur a little thrown off by ur own body hiding this secret from you, he can finally drink from ur tits like he was always meant to.
✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏
the boys s5 spoilers: hey guys wth is going on with our boy in this season 💀 no i understand he’s batshit these days, i would be too if i was rejected by soldier boy. i’m thinking ab writing for sb soon but idk what scenarios to dive into. anyway hL’s guardian angel being madelyn????? bruhhhh he lowkenuinley needs a mommy and i volunteer. anyway what do we think of fauxcest did i go to far orrr. sorry i was feeling freaky tn lowk think i could do worse but i don’t wanna scare anyone. sad to see the series end but so far it’s going sooo well like that atrain redemption arc? amazing. the boy’s wednesdays and euphoria sundays lawd i used to pray for times like these. k love u bye :P
cassie mckay smut with young!reader (mid 20s?) like absolutely feral pleaseee 🙏
cassie mckay x younger gf!reader₊˚⊹ᰔ
cw: afab reader, age gap (reader is in her mid twenties), small plot, use of “mommy”, NSFW, praise, fingering, masturbation, soft dom Cassie, finger sucking.
author's note: hiii i’m sorry it took me so long to write this (>_<)
this was was definitely a challenging one, i have never written smut before. i wanted to give you my best!! i hope everyone can enjoy this <33 love, gelo.
divider by @cursed-carmine
a quiet friday night, a half empty bottle of wine sat on the diner table along with a full plate of carbonara left untouched.
30 minutes ago, Cassie texted you saying her shift was about to end.
30 minutes.
she was supposed to be here, with you. drinking and enjoying the meal you prepared, not still in the damn ER because she got held up by Robby.
you throw your phone across the bed, letting out a huff as you plop down on the soft cushions. where Cassie was supposed to be, with you.
fuck Robby.
and the worst of all? after a few glasses of wine, you were incredibly horny. you didn’t plan this to happen. one glass turned into two, then three… when you realized, you had drank half of the bottle. nice.
it was getting hot. you were getting hot. you tried not to focus on the feeling that grew in between your legs. you could wait. keep it for Cassie, she deserves it.
you could feel your clit pulsing through the lacy underwear you put on, begging for your touch — or hers. your nipples poked through the satin fabric of your dress, pleading for stimulation. your body ached for Cassie’s touch. each second waiting for her felt like an eternity, you couldn’t contain your need anymore.
you could finish before she got home, i’d be quick. just to let out some steam. she wouldn’t even know.
it started slow, the straps of your dress falling down your arm, your hands teasing the hardened pebbles like she would. like maybe you could trick your body into thinking she was there with you, touching you.
you bite down your lips, trying to suppress a moan — and at the same time trying to recreate the feeling of Cassie nibbling into your lips. god, you fucking missed her.
sliding your dress down and throwing it into the floor, you give yourself freedom to explore more of Cassie’s territory. there wasn’t a curve she hadn’t traced, a scar she hadn’t kissed, a hair strand she hadn’t caressed.
her way of marking territory was by leaving marks, all of them very welcomed by you. she wasn’t insecure or jealous by any means— if anything, the love bites and scratches were for her own enjoyment.
teasing the soft lace of your undergarments, you let out a relaxed sigh as you let your hand wander lower and your thighs fall open.
you dipped your fingers lower into your cunt. you were already wet. you imagined what Cassie’s reaction would be to seeing you like this, so wet and needful.
your fingers circled aggressively against your puffed bud, erratic movements that tried to mimic Cassie’s. but you were to desperate.
images of Cassie’s body against yours flashed through your mind, her tits bouncing as she thrusted her strap into you, her fingers slapping your pussy, wet lips softly biting your nipples. you let out a strained moan.
you tried to emulate her touch, playing with your slick folds and pushing a finger inside yourself. it wasn’t the same. your impatience was only making it more difficult, trying to chase a sensation only your lover could give you.
the feeling was overwhelming, a mix of sadness, pleasure and pain. you thought you were chasing your release, but you actually were chasing her.
tears fell down your flushed cheeks. you were a mess, physically and emotionally. you needed her to pick up your pieces, break you and rearrange you altogether.
then, without your discern, the front door was open. Cassie looked around the empty living room, no sign of her loved one. were you already asleep? a pang of guilt washed through her at the thought. she took off her shoes with a sigh.
days like this one were rare. when Harrison was spending the weekend at his dad’s and she would come to your place to spend her days-off. when she’d leave the ER, come to you and slip off the ‘Dr. Mckay’ persona. she didn’t have to hold herself strong, she didn’t have to fake. and for the first time in awhile, she was the one being taken care of.
Cassie walked down the hallway to your bedroom, a puzzled look on her face as she heard the noises coming from it.
she was too wrapped in her own mind and self blaming that she didn’t even had catched on the lewd sounds you were making. she followed your voice like a sailor entranced by a Siren’s call.
she stopped right by the doorway, her presence still unknown to you. Cassie admired the sight like it was a painting worth of being in the louvre. — and in her mind, it was. — the way the lights from the city beamed on your body, casting dramatic shadows over your nude figure.
her eyes dart to your breasts, then to your face, your closed eyelids, open mouth, the creased brows, your trembling legs and your glistening pussy. so puffy and needy. you were rubbing your nub so unmercifully, so desperate for a release. poor thing.
she gulps. “Babe?”
you flinch automatically, propping yourself up and closing your legs — to Cassie’s dismay.
“fuck! Cass— how did you get in!??” trying to change the subject, nice tactic.
she shakes her keychain. “you gave me a copy of your keys? remember that?”
oh, yeah. you did that.
Cassie stepped inside slowly, analyzing the crime scene. you were caught in the act, using her absence to play with her favorite toy.
you look up at her with teary eyes.
“Baby, i’m sorry—”
you couldn’t even finish your apology before she shushed you.
“no. i should be the one to apologize, honey. i haven’t been giving you the attention you need, have i? mommy will fix that.”
she removed a strand of hair out of your face. her gentle smile almost making you forget why you were apologizing in the first place.
Cassie slowly took her clothes off, revealing the soft skin behind the scrubs that only you had the pleasure of seeing.
she placed herself on top of you and leaned down to kiss you. it wasn’t rushed and lustful, it was slow and soft. she was apologizing on your tongue, it was her way of saying ‘i’m here, i’ll take care of you.’
she moved down to your breasts, squeezing them together and massaging the nipples with her tongue. it was her favorite thing — playing with your tits.
your chest felt warm as she swirled her tongue against one of your nipples and gave it a soft bite that made you squirm.
by the time she was done with marking your chest, you were already on edge. “need you so bad, mommy…” you pouted.
Cassie looked up at you with her bright blue eyes, lips wet and swollen from making out with your tits. “yeah? where do you need me, baby? c’mon, use your big girl words for mommy.”
“need your fingers, mommy… please.” you begged, caressing the soft plush of her waist.
she smirked, bringing her index and middle finger to your mouth. your plush lips wrapping around them and sucking like a good girl.
she dipped her fingers lower, pressing them into your tongue. you gracefully took it, allowing her to fuck your mouth with her fingers.
Cassie took her fingers out of your mouth. “you ready for me, baby?” she places a soft kiss on your neck.
“yeah, i’m good.” you nod, basking on the feeling of her lips on your neck. she places a few more pecs down your neck before pulling out.
“alright, momma’s gonna make you feel good.”
Cass slid her fingers inside you, the familiar warmth of your insides welcoming her with a tight embrace. you could’ve came right there, just from that first touch.
“so fucking needy… i’m sorry i left you waiting, baby.” she purrs — you can’t tell if she’s speaking to you or your cunt. either way, her words made your insides clench.
your hands slowly wander down her body. you want her to feel as intoxicated as you were, to make her forget about the stress she’s been through at work.
she gasps when your fingers touch her clit. she’s been so deprived. lately she’s only been able to de-stress at those rare moments; late at night when harrison is asleep in his bedroom and she calls you to help her unwind, or when she has the time to take a more prolonged shower that ends up with her having to clean herself up again.
it was flippant. the way you, in your mid twenties and lacking of sexual experiences, were in a relationship with a woman who was twenty years your senior. Cassie’s experience compared to yours was very noticeable, and it made your insides turn every time.
you mimicked Cassie’s movements as best as you could, you wanted her to feel as good as you were. feel her own movements through your fingers, how it made your heart race and pussy clench.
you fingered each other at the same pace. you didn’t know where your body ended and hers began. she rested her forehead against yours, you were sharing the same airflow. you breathed in when she breathed out, recycling the air the other expelled.
you were mirroring one another — or better, you were becoming something new; half you, half her. a symbiotic bond that was unbreakable. you needed each other to soothe the pain of living, to feel loved and wanted because no one else did.
because you completed each other.
you moaned her name and she purred yours, the brawl of different sounds coming from each mouth. sounds of your thighs slapping mixed with the squelching sounds coming from both of you. it was pure, raw.
your walls tightened against her fingers. you tried to delay your orgasm but you could feel it coming hard.
“Cass— ‘m gonna cum, fuck!” you cried out, your fingers pumping into her frenetically. you needed her to reach her peak with you.
“ah! don’t stop, baby. i’m right there with you.” Cassie rasped, her hand working relentlessly on your clit. the pad of her fingers drawing tight circles against your bud made your breath heavier.
she felt her own orgasm approach as you mimicked the way she touched you. the lustful feeling was reciprocated, the both of you tittering along the edge of your orgasm.
Cassie brushed her lips against yours, tongue darting out to taste you. the kiss was sloppy and eager, nothing like what Cass would normally do. she was desperate, hungry. she needed to make you come undone, to make herself come undone.
you came with a choked out moan, your whole body turning into mush in her hands. Cassie followed your lead, grunting as she melted right into your hands. “babybabybaby— fuck!” she babbled incoherently.
she plopped down on top of you, your sweaty bodies breathing on sync. you stayed like this for a minute, basking in the feeling of your heavy breaths and heartbeats.
“…you’re so goddamn perfect.” she places a kiss in the middle of your chest.
“you’re perfect.” you retort, looking down at her. bangs sticking to her forehead in an odd but adorable way, cheeks flused, dilated pupils. that’s when you thought she looked the prettiest.
“we are so cheesy, god…” Cassie chuckles, slowly lifting herself up. “i’m gonna clean us up and reheat the dinner, ‘kay?”
