PEDRO PASCAL Attends The "Eddington" Premiere At The 78th Cannes Film Festival

Yesss more details on his creampie kink and dirty talk!! He definitely plays w/ you after he finishes inside. I feel like his dirty talk would be heavy on praise too? I’m down disgustingly bad for this old man it’s almost shameful

Lots of people want me to elaborate so.. 🫢😏

- He neeeeds to finish inside you.

- The primal urge to fill you to the brim and watch his cum leak out of you makes him insane.

- Sex with him is intense and passionate (I could go into more detail there too lul) and marking you as his by cumming inside you is the cherry on top.

- His thrusts are always hard and deep, but never fast. He loves you on your back beneath him, hands like a vice on your hips.

- You can always tell his close by the way he starts grunting, deep and gravely sounds as his tip kisses your cervix.

- He uses his thumb to rub tight little circles on your clit, urging you to finish with him. And it’s so overwhelming, the way his stretching and filling you, his thumb on the bundle of nerves..

- You’re squirming and crying out in absolute bliss, and he doesn’t relent. “That a girl, baby. Take it. You can do it, do it for me.”

- And when he cums inside you he’s almost growling, hips pinned to yours as he fills you to the brim. He’s grinding into you like he’s on a mission, panting and cursing.

- “Such a good fucking girl, taking me so well. Look at that, so fucking full of my cock.”

- He pulls out slow and easy, watching his cum slip out, admiring the creamy white ring around the base of his cock.

- And he’s panting and cursing, using his finger and pushing his cum back in, humming at your surprised whines as he whispers. “Look at that. So fucking gorgeous, you’re so full of my cum.”

- And he won’t stop until it’s all back inside you, kissing your stomach and chest as he mumbles. “Mine. You’re all fucking mine.”

@abbotjack is this not Maxxinista!Jack LOL

📸: pickleballbad on IG

sweet mother, i cannot weave.

playlist pairing: kassandra the eagle bearer x fem!reader word count: 5.2k description: kassandra was the eagle bearer. a misthios feared by all, nearly by the gods themselves. an unstoppable force, a deadly creature on the battlefield, and considered supernatural by many. and yet, you had her wrapped around your finger. tags: smut (18+), definite historical innacuracy, inaccurate ancient greek terms of endearment, period typical misogyny (not from kassandra), takes place in the midst of the peloponnesian war, risk of being caught, kassandra is a munch, reader is a bit of a pillow princess. a/n: i know most of ya'll know my blog for house of the dragon (aka my one jacaerys fic), but kassandra was my first love so she needs appreciation. this is my first time writing for wlw pairing so... please bear with me :)))).

Summertime in Athens was a lazy thing, hazy with a simmering heat and the smell of ripened fruit.

It seemed as if Apollo himself kissed your skin as you basked within the late afternoon glow. His rays brushed over your cheeks, illuminating you in gold. Your eyes were shut, your pliant body laid out against a cushioned kline. You were a beauty not even sculptors could mold out of marble. Everything about you spoke of your careless luxury; silk chiton ruffled from your relaxation, gold earrings glinting in your ears, and the scent of myrrh perfume that filled the room. 

A pitcher of wine sits with a full cup on a nearby table. You’d already downed your first cup, you could feel the slight buzz of it in your veins; a gift from Dionysus. Everything felt lazy and quiet. The afternoons often stretched on endlessly, with little entertainment.

You had no other responsibilities to fill your day than to bask like a napping cat. 

The bustle of your home city can be faintly heard from the balcony connecting to your rooms. The bartering of merchants in the marketplace, the boisterous laughter of a group of men who had overindulged, the din of many people moving along streets. Despite the temperature, the city still breathes.

Athens seemed to overflow with life, in spite of the Spartan siege resting just outside her walls.

Your father made sure you’d stayed far from that danger, shut safely inside your home. Where a woman should be, he tells you. He feels the brunt of this war and he does everything in his power to keep you from it. Your relationship with him was an odd one, for you were no son. However, since your mother’s life had faded during her labors, a daughter is what he must settle for. But no matter how chilled the bond between you grows, your wellbeing is paramount. 

A dead girl cannot be married off for dowry.

He keeps you sheltered away behind the carefully constructed walls of wealth.

Well, until you’d met Kassandra.

The misthios had appeared one day at your villa’s doorstep, imposing and lithe as a lioness. She’d had business with your father, a contract that needed his attention. Standing before your father, who himself was stout and muscular, she outshone him like the sun does the moon. She’d seemed to be crafted specially by the gods themselves. For no other hands could’ve sculpted those lips and shoulders with such care. 

You’d watched her approach, sneakily observing from above upon a terrace.

Kassandra was unlike any other woman you’d seen before. Her demeanor was relaxed and held something akin to arrogance. Armed to the teeth, toned, and protected by gold and leather… she knew nothing would dare to touch her. The mercenary could almost be considered a demigod, blessed with Zeus’ eagle to circle above her head. She was everything opposite of what you’ve been instructed to be. 

She donned armor that you’d previously only thought belonged to men. It glinted as the sun struck it, illuminating her as if she was Athena coming to walk amongst mortals. The metal she wore for protection also served to accentuate her musculature, fit and lean. You’d never seen such athleticism on one woman, only ever exposed to the soft curves of yourself and your maids. 

She was striking in every sense of the word, well-loved by Aphrodite herself. She had the sharp eyes of a hawk, umber and gleaming when the light hit them just right. They did not miss you, either.

Amidst a hushed conversation with your father, her gaze had found yours. It was fleeting, merely a glance. But she’d known you were there, even from your hiding spot. Even from your distance, you could see the pull of a smirk on her lips.

And there was a strange stirring in your stomach... It was something you’d only felt a few times before. 

It was never in the presence of any of your father’s soldiers. The men often smelled of sweat and wine, the sight of them left a sour taste in your mouth. But around your maids, you’d noticed that recently your eyes have started to linger. Whether it be on the curve of their sternums, the beauty of their eyes, and the plushness of their lips. You’d often wonder what they might feel like upon your own. It was a secret you kept close and never dared to act upon. 

But Kassandra was bringing a tidal wave of attraction upon you, even from first glance. She looked strong like a man but she was still… most definitely a woman. She was beautiful.

You should’ve known from that moment that you were doomed.

She was around often, having an objective that required constant movement around Athens. It often involved your father, the influential general that he was. You were not able to speak with her often, your father feared she might instill a sense of womanly rebellion in you. Though, you stole a few moments of furtive eye contact and quiet, imploring words.

It was upon her fifth visit that her head became buried between your thighs for the first time. 

The mercenary had the unfortunate (fortunate) chance of visiting when your father had not been home. The man had been called away on some urgent business you hadn’t cared to pay attention to. What use would it be? You wouldn’t be allowed to help anyhow.

You’d welcomed her in, under the facade of the demanding rule of hospitality.

Her fingers brush against yours when you hand her a cup of sweet wine. A few words are exchanged; she asks after your father, you ask about her eagle, she compliments the wine.

One thing leads to another and your back is against a wall covered in mosaic tiles, breathy moans leaving your mouth. She has one of your thighs over her large shoulder, your silk chiton rucked up to your hips. She made a temple of your body, an altar in between your legs, and a sacrifice with her tongue.

It was your first time lying with a woman, lying with anyone. She made you feel like you were in Elysium.

She visited more often after that, no longer just to see your father.

You often awaited her at night, when she would climb up through your balcony to find your embrace. The woman could scale just about anything, it seemed. 

She was something holy; borne from the gods, no doubt. You believed that even more when she played your body like a finely tuned lyre.

Every visit has you feeling like Penelope, welcoming Odysseus back to Ithaca.

Though, lately, you’ve gotten the feeling that she will soon be moving on to other places.

There was a far away look in her eyes when she gazed at you now, hidden beneath amorous hues. Her touches began to stray with a softness that had not been there before. She’s begun to linger after your satiation, lips reverently brushing over your temple when she has to depart. It made you uneasy… the affection was welcome, but it was tinged with a bittersweet omen. You did not wish for her to go.

This arrangement was not one borne of longstanding love and commitment; it was all-consuming, passionate, and free of false promises. However… you cannot deny the blossoms of affection that have been planted from all your shared intimacies with the mercenary. She would sometimes bring you fresh figs she picked along her travels, and then you would insist on sharing. Or there were times when she could not stay for long… so she’d tuck an anemone she’d saved behind your ear with a press of plush lips to the corner of your mouth.

Kassandra rarely allowed herself to have such tenderness. There were those out there who would do anything to tear away anything she cared about. It was all too easy to fall into the role of careless mercenary, only in it for the drachmae. Perhaps, if it was just her and Ikaros against the world, things would be easier.

But, there was you… saccharine and delicate, with a heart purer that King Midas’ gold. You felt like the closest thing to home she’s had in a long time.

Everyone had their vices.

There were times that she did not crave you for lust at all. Sometimes she would crawl into bed beside you with a sigh… wounded or bruised. The look in her eyes, then, tugged at your heart. They were so tired… almost sad. You could see, she needed the comfort of your sweet words and to fall asleep in a safe place. The way you rubbed the muscles of her back, pressed chaste kisses to her bruised cheekbones, and undid her braid made Kassandra believe that maybe… she could afford to have this one shred of kindness.

It was a secret, just for the two of you. Something forbidden by the laws of men, two women partaking in such carnality, but what laws had Kassandra ever abided by?

Muted footsteps catch your wandering attention, sandals across smooth stone, bringing you back from your thoughts.

You're pleased to see the familiar outline of your lover in the doorway. 

Kassandra was imposing even in the simplest of times. The sun catches half of her face, causing one eye to look molten, the other dark umber in the shadows. 

She utters your name in a low familiar greeting, her tongue curling over the syllables. The left corner of her lips tug up in a slow smile.

You cannot help but rake your eyes over the way her body looked in her usual armor. Her chestplate accentuated the strong slope of her arms. You admired her well-built shoulders and biceps, one marred by the scars left by an animal she’d conquered in her past. You often liked to brush your lips over it to make her shudder. Her leather pteruges rustled with each movement; accentuating the long lines of her legs. Every detail of her did not escape your notice; a vein along one of her hands, the cut of her calves, the small strands of hair that always escaped her braid.

You also do not miss how her heated eyes take you in. Like you were a nymph or nereid, basking in the sun.

To her, you were otherworldly. 

The shoulder of your silk wrappings had slid down one of your shoulders, revealing a tantalizing slip of skin. The sun illuminated you like a beacon. You lounged like a big cat, easy and wanton. As you gazed at her through lazy, half-lidded eyes; she felt a familiar heat simmering between you both.

The two of you were like a conflagration, coming together to burn.

“Kassandra.” You drawl in greeting, eyes tracking her as she steps into the room. 

“I thought I might find you here.” The sellsword muses, sharp eyes flicking around your rooms. She takes in the open balcony, the goblet of wine by your side, before her gaze traces you again. 

“Did you?” You cannot hide the quiet tease of your voice, something salacious hidden beneath your lilting words. She hums in agreement. You shift where you lie, a strategic move that lets your dressings slip even further down your chest, revealing almost too much of your sternum. You let one of your legs fall to the side of the kline, creating an inviting cradle between your thighs.

Kassandra notices. You can see the way she tracks the movement with a heated gaze. When she meets your eyes again, she raises an amused brow.

“You’re done speaking with my father, then?” You inquire. There is a hope in your tone you cannot hide, and haven’t been able to for a while now. You cannot deny you greatly look forward to Kassandra’s visits… and you yearn for her when she is not around. She is an excitement in your dull life, a taste of the outside world you haven’t seen. 

There comes that look upon her face that you are so used to seeing now. Something more somber and serious than her usual teasing facade.

“Yes… I have just completed my final task for him.”

You feel a sinking in your stomach. Your earlier flirtations now feel… silly.

“You’ve been paid then..?” You venture to ask, brows drawing together. The clenching in your chest and the downturn of your lips strangely feel like disappointment.

“I have.” Kassandra states simply. She sighs, eyes glancing out towards the balcony for a moment. She seems to be thinking something over. She takes a step closer, knees almost bumping into your shins where you recline.

“I will be leaving Athens soon… my-” She hesitates. Does she tell you everything now? Her whole purpose in coming to the city? Her quest? The cult? Her family? “... contracts now lie in other places across the Aegean. I will leave with my ship tomorrow morning.”

“What?” You ask, almost startled. She was leaving? So soon? “Leaving-?” Your voice is, embarrassingly, tinged with panic. You begin to push yourself up on your elbows, chiton sliding across your skin to become entirely improper. You could care less.

Then, Kassandra does something you don’t expect. 

She kneels before your kline, body half hovering over yours. The proximity is enough to have your words catching in your throat. A pretty flush settles over your cheeks as you're forced to meet her eyes. The smell of leather, olive oil, and sandalwood fills your nose.

Her strong arms cage you in at either side, your noses are almost brushing against one another. The heat of her body is palpable, even through her armor. You can feel her leather pteruges brushing your calves, the leather softly rasping over your skin. Her chestplate digs slightly into your thighs.

“Come with me.” She murmurs, tone low. The words are meant just for you.

Surprise overcomes any other emotion you’re feeling.

“What-?” Your whispered exclamation is cut off quickly.

“Come with me. Travel with me, on the Adrestia.” She implores once again, ducking her head. Her lips brush across your jaw. You make a soft noise, it sounds like a surrender. You tilt her head and you feel her brushing chaste kisses down your throat. Her touch makes you shudder, your heart kicking up its pace as your body begins to perk up.

“See the world with me. Feel the ocean breeze across your skin for the first time, leave these city walls, let me show you freedom.” Each word is murmured against you. Her warm breath fans across your skin, mingling with the clime of the day. 

A gasp is torn from your lips as she nips at the junction between your neck and shoulder, trailing her lips to your exposed shoulder. You melt back into the cushions beneath you. She follows you down. It feels like molten heat is settling in your stomach. You do not know how she pulls this lust from you so easily, but you’re not complaining. 

Your hands slide to her arms, feeling the well-built muscles under your palms. Your head tilts back against your pillows, lips parted with quickened breath. Her callused hands brush up to your hips, causing your chiton to bunch. She kneads into your pliant flesh.

“I could teach you to sail, have you stand with me at the helm. You would be free to do as you wished…” Kassandra breathes out over your skin, trailing lower and lower. She’s still trying to convince you, even when you haven’t given her your answer. 

You knew what you wanted, wholeheartedly. Of course you would go with her. The truth is, you’d fallen deeply in love with the mercenary… You could hardly let her go. She completed you, made you whole. She was the sunlight streaming through your bedroom doorway, the honeyed taste of figs on your tongue, and she was the freedom of the eagle soaring outside. She was hard and callous, but held a gentleness reserved just for you. It was as if you’d cracked past the exterior of a pomegranate, finding the sweetened seeds within.

Besides, if you stayed, all that awaited you was a loveless marriage and a possible death on your birthing bed. 

However, Kassandra isn’t leaving you in a state to speak these poetic thoughts to her.

One of her hands finds the slipping hem covering your chest. With a simple tug, she bares your chest to her.

You give a small squeak of surprise, a flush spreading to your ears. She shushes you, heated eyes meeting yours as her lips tug into a small smirk. Then, she descends upon you.

Kassandra brushes her lips over your collarbone, nipping playfully at the skin. It’s clear she intends to leave a mark… then she trails lower and lower… before she’s kissing around the mound of your breast.  

You shudder, a sigh of pleasure leaving your lips. One of your hands finds her nape while the other tangles into her brunette tresses. It messes up her carefully woven braid, but neither of you really notice. You pull her closer like you can’t get enough of her, like you can meld your bodies together. Her touch is as warm and filling as the sun. It sets you ablaze, threatening to burn.

When she laves her tongue over your peak, you give a weak cry. To her, it sounds better than any song the muses could ever sing. You moan so prettily for her. She could get drunk off of that alone. No flask of even the finest bacchanal wine could make her feel as you do. She begins to lap at you in earnest, tugging whines from your lips..

“Kassandra.” You mewl, an encouragement. You do not care if anyone in the household hears.

“You always taste so sweet.” The words are murmured against your skin, skilled tongue curling around the syllables. Her voice causes a fluttering in your stomach. She trails her mouth to your other breast, kneading the previous in her hand. Her eyes are half-lidded through her long lashes as she drinks in your every reaction. Your eyes shutter, arching into her brazen touches. The want radiating through your body pools, thick and cloying, between your thighs.

She has hardly even begun, and yet you’re melting in her hands. 

“I could teach you to hunt, to live for yourself. You would be beautiful with a bow. You could put the daughters of Artemis to shame.” The warrior speaks against your skin. The words are murmured between swipes of her tongue, her lashes fluttering with the ecstasy of tasting your skin. 

Once she has you squirming for her, just from her mouth on your chest, you feel her body begin to slide down against yours. Her hands brush down over your thighs as her lips travel over your covered stomach… then abdomen.

“And every night… I could take you to shore. Every night would be just like this. Wouldn’t you like that?” Her words are husky and heated, leaving you more breathless by the moment. 

“Y… Yes… Gods…” You nod shakily, struggling to be coherent. You shift where you lie, twitching your hips towards her.

“There are no gods here. It’s just you and me, erasmia.” The term of endearment rolls easily from Kassandra’s mouth.

Her calloused palms brush over your ankles as she gently parts them. 

You blink open your hazy hues to gaze down at her… and the sight would’ve made you weak in the knees had you been standing. She’s gorgeous, the paragon of your desire. Her broad shoulders gently nudge your thighs open, she guides them to rest over her arms. She’s smiling, you realize, her head turned against the inside of your knee. You wish to see its radiance but you wouldn’t dare move her from where she is. The movement causes the silk of your skirts to bunch, dangerously close to exposing you. 

Your paramour hums in satisfaction at the reveal of your bare skin. Her dark eyes are trained on your expression; eyes doe-like with soft parted lips. You feel her dangerous mouth skim across your knee, up to your thigh. They’re gentle, butterfly kisses. The way she touches you is reverential in nature.

She has never believed in the gods, for they had never done anything for her. But… having you like this… maybe there were supernatural beings in this world. Perhaps there were gods, perhaps Aphrodite had borne you from a rose. You were anointed with beauty that could rival any goddess… though she would not curse you by speaking the words aloud.

You suck in a breath as her lips skim to your inner thigh, holding it in anticipation for what you know comes next. A warm breeze blows through the open terrace. It caresses your bare chest, making you shudder. Every fibre of your being was wound with need. 

But Kassandra was nothing if not a tease. You can feel her grin against your skin as she nips at your thigh. Her sharp canines travel across your plush flesh, leaving blooming red marks in their wake. It causes your muscles to twitch, shifting over her shoulders.

“I would keep you safe, of course. Nothing would touch you, nothing would even come close. Not while I’m around.” She speaks against your skin, the words almost muffled. Her nose nudges into your thigh as her face presses even closer.

You whine in frustration as the woman between your thighs travels her lips higher. She’s distinctly avoiding where you want her most, wet and weeping. Instead, her hands push you chiton around your waist. You're open, exposed for the taking. But she doesn’t seem to care. She sucks a mark into the jut of your hip bone, warm palms skimming over your thighs. She makes sure you stay open for her. 

The mercenary is a terrible (beautiful) combination of passionate and possessive, often leaving marks that you struggle to hide from your father. Your body is a canvas for her marks of lust. 

It is when she starts kissing across your stomach that you begin to beg. You feel close to trembling, losing yourself to the need she has (all too quickly) built you up to. There is not a sweeter torture.

“Kassandra… please.” You breathe, lips forming into a slight pout as she showers kisses on the flesh of your tummy. “I need you. Don’t be cruel.” Your voice is pathetic, tinged with desperation. You’re too entranced by her to be embarrassed by it.

She laughs softly against you. But… she can never resist you for long. You were a test of her self-control, one she often failed. You were her Achilles heel. She would do anything for you, that is what makes you so dangerous. If the knowledge of her only weakness got into the wrong hands… she could lose everything.

But Kassandra can’t help but need you anyways. She has lost so much in her life… she should at least have this luxury.

“I’ll give you what you need, o khara… I always will.” It sounds almost like a promise.

And it is. One she intends to keep.

She rips a quiet gasp from your throat as she skims her lips down your navel… and, this time, she does not stop her descent. 

Kassandra, first, presses a kiss against your core. The touch surprises you and it is not nearly enough. You open your mouth to tell her such, but you’re quickly silenced.

Your lover wastes no time, perhaps just remembering that your father was still in the house or the fact that your maids could walk in at any moment. She flattens her tongue against you, tasting your essence. She groans into you, your ambrosia like honey on her tongue. You can feel the vibrations of it travelling through your body.

Your choke on your breath for a moment, hands scrambling to hold onto something. One hand tangles into her hair as the other grips the couch beneath you. She grunts at the pressure but does not protest. In fact, she follows your guidance, pressing closer. 

Her tongue slides against your entrance, eagerly tasting all of you where you leak for her. You can feel her nose nudging into your pearl, sending jolts of pleasure up your spine. You moan, biting your lip to try and keep quiet. 

She tsks, pulling away much to your dismay. Already, her lips are wet with your arousal.

“None of that, I want to hear you.” She rasps. You could argue, bring up the fact that anyone could very much be here. But gods, you don’t want her to stop.

You nod dumbly, tugging her face back to the apex of your thighs. She goes, chuckling at your easy compliance. You sigh in relief as her tongue swipes through your folds once more.

Your hips arch into her ministrations. You crave more… so much more. You think, in times like these, that you understand how Icarus must have felt. A strong forearm slings across your hips, pressing you flat against the cushions for her taking. Her other slides to your haunch, gripping the pliant flesh. She keeps you spread for her.

Kassandra drinks from you like she is dying of thirst. She is messy, trying to taste every bit of you. The woman was skilled with her tongue. You can feel as she dips her tongue teasingly at your entrance before lapping over your clit, suckling until she repeats the pattern again. It has you melting for her… helpless to do anything but take the gift she gives you.

She is godlike, radiant from the late sun. She could be Eros incarnate, beautiful and salacious between your thighs.

You writhe, even under her strong hold. You tug, not too hard, at her hair. You need more. You mewl with every pass of her tongue over you…

“Ah…” Your lips are parted with exerted breaths, breasts heaving with the force of them. Kassandra is enraptured by the sight, fiery eyes locked on you from where she feasts. “Kassandra.. Mm.. don’t you dare stop.” It sounds like an order from your mouth.

Soon, she zeroes in on your pearl. You think she might suffocate from how she presses her face into your cunt. If she was a lioness, she’d be mauling you. She suckles at your clit, causing your body to twitch from the overwhelming feelings of pleasure. Your eyes flutter closed, mellisonant sighs and cries of ecstasy pouring from your pretty lips.

“So beautiful…” Kassandra murmurs against you. Her hand slides from your thigh to prod at your entrance, testing. “Taste so good, can never get enough of you. And you’re always so wet…” You don’t have the awareness to feel embarrassed by her teasing.

She slides two long fingers inside you, huffing as she feels your cunt flutter around the digits. You shudder, body not knowing how to handle the twin sensations. She continues to lap at your nub. But her fingers begin a slow slide, curling within you just right.

The wet sounds between your thighs are obscene. You can feel your own slickness and her saliva on the inside of your thighs, combined with the sting of where Kassandra had marked you earlier. Her attention is never ending.

Every thrust of her fingers inside of you wrenches a moan from you. They filled you so deeply, much better than your own. She has ruined you for anyone else. Embarrassingly, you can feel your peak approaching already. Desire pools in your stomach, a coil tightening.

Kassandra can evidently feel it too, the way you flutter around her. Gods… you got so tight when you were close. It was maddening. She doubles her efforts, moaning into your cunt as she flattens her tongue over your pearl. 

Her free hand moves to your hips, encouraging you to grind against her face and fingers. You do, settling into a shaky rhythm. She was giving you everything. Your breathing is labored, hardly able to moan through your panting. It’s desperate and so dirty…

Every pass of your hips as her fingers pressing closer, digits finding the spongy spot inside of you. It only takes a couple more grinds of your hips before you’re falling over the edge.

“That’s it… look at you.” Kassandra praises, voice low and heady as she guides you through your peak. She continues to murmur dirty praises into your skin as you lose yourself to hedonistic ecstasy. Her fingers slow into gentle pushes, letting your release pool between them. Waves of pleasure roll through you, and you take them gladly. There is a faint perspiration upon your brow and your cheeks are flushed prettily.

Your partner presses kisses against you, digits sheathed till you whimper in overstimulation. You nudge her head away with your palm and she takes the signal. You shudder as she pulls her fingers from you, watching with half-lidded eyes as she licks them clean. Her chin glistens with evidence of your carnal sin.

You tug her up into a kiss, pliant lips against her own. She follows your direction easily. Your arms slide around her shoulders, feeling her warmth. Her hands are planted on either side of your head, firm body balanced above you. You can taste yourself on her tongue. Your body is still buzzing from satiation, lazy and full.

Kassandra hums into the kiss. Slowly, you pull away for breath. Both of your breathing is still labored. Gently, you brush your fingers along her tan cheek. She leans into the touch, nose brushing your own. The look in her eyes can only be described as loving devotion.

“Of course I will go with you.” You utter against her, voice shot from all your keening. “There is nowhere else I would rather be than at your side, Kassandra.”

Her grin is more radiant than the stars..

-

That very night, she climbs your terrace once again.

But this time, you’ll be leaving with her.

She coaxes you out of bed with a multitude of kisses across your cheeks. There are quiet shushes and giggles as you get out of bed to dress. 

Kassandra drapes a shroud around your shoulders, making sure it obscures your face. She gently guides you from your bedroom, her hands at your waist help you climb down the ivy that clings to the rough clay walls. You travel like silent mice, the guards none the wiser to your midnight escape.

Her loyal steed, Phobos, awaits you a distance away from the villa walls. She hoists you up easily, settling you onto the knit pad on the horse's back. Phobos stands still for you, quiet and patient.

She joins you, clicking her tongue and nudging her heels into the animal's side. The beast’s stride is smooth and sure, and soon enough your villa is fading into the starry sky behind you. 

Kassandra’s body is warm at your back, arms strong and heavy as she holds you. She guides your head back to rest on her shoulder, murmuring words of affection into your hair.

You ride together under the protection of Selene, off to a new life you would build. Together. 

trans women, i love you.

you were a woman yesterday. you're a woman today. you're a woman tomorrow. you're a woman forever.

trans women have existed long before those stuffy bigots sitting in a court room have. trans women will continue to exist long after they're dead and rotting in the earth.

Sundays are meant for lazy mornings and trips to tjmaxx. Normally you wouldn’t dream about going to the local one because it’s a literal mad house but Jack said he found one that’s an hour out that’s supposed to be bigger, and has the tomato beaded bag that you really want. It makes you laugh because you showed him that TikTok only once but he remembered. Of course he would because why wouldn’t he remember the things you like??

But he mostly also wants that one ottoman that also doubles as storage - the one where he can rest his leg on and keep the fluffy blanket that always knocks him out cold because it’s impossibly soft. Y’all stop by the local coffee shop for some fuel before hitting the roads and you can’t stop smiling because it’s honestly the first time you’ve ever seen Jack be so carefree and genuinely relaxed. He always likes doing things with you. But this? It’s makes you so happy seeing him take initiative in something so seemingly trite.

He gets the bigger and wider cart. He knows better than to get the double decker small one. He loves watching you pick out art for the walls, consulting with him about what stuff to get for the kitchen. He always pivots to the candles, picks out one that smells like the one place you took a trip to together. That was your first big trip as an actual couple. You giggle and smooch him softly a few times in the candle isle, and you pretend to not see when he sneaks a few more into the cart.

With the blankets and pillows, he’ll often give a squeeze and a low hum of approval. He’ll crack a joke about the pillow feeling like your boobs, and there’s a small pause before the both of you laugh so hard because when has he ever made a joke like that??

Yeah, Maxxinista!Jack is a different person and you love it.

Listen I think Jack loves little trinkets. He’s def a trinket kinda guy but never had much because ya know army days. But he loves a trip to home goods or marshalls and he’d be like “hey honey what do you think about this pitcher? It goes with our cups.” Towels? Oh you bet he’ll be making sure they feel right. He’s always been a very functional “if it works it works” kinda guy but then he gets introduced to Egyptian cotton and thread count sheets and that man has never slept better in his life.

Inspired by this post from @abbotjack hehe

I've got a lot of respect for smut writers. you write something incredibly sexual, it's probably somewhat of a look into your own soul, and then bitches are too scared to leave kudos of comments half the time, so it looks as though everyone hates your work. And yet yall still do it, and I love that

What do we think about a Harry Castillo x Ferrari Chief Brand Officer! fem reader

(Or “her” / you being in a similar role)

Honestly the washing hands thing is so real LMAO

Jack abbot get in line imma fight you for our girl

FIND OUT

─ Dr. Samira Mohan x fem! reader || WC: 3.2k

SYNOPSIS: You and your friend, Samira Mohan, tread the line between friends & something else. During a night out, you both get a taste of what that something else might look like.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. SMUT. Alcohol consumption (everything is consensual). Sort of Dom! Reader/Sub! Samira (both are switches & fems though). Girls kissing passionately! Nipple play. Dry Humping. Fingering. Dirty Talk. Flirting. Making out in the backseat of a cab. Samira has a crush on reader & vice versa. Samira & Reader are residents at The Pitt (R3s). Samira & Reader are close friends & around the same age (29). Touch deprived! Samira Mohan. Both Samira & Reader are bisexual.

A/N: I truly can't explain how this happened, but lets just say I locked in so hard I blacked out. I just want to love on Samira Mohan, so I did. MOVE JACK IT'S MY TURN! I also took some inspo from the scene in Black Swan where Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis kiss, lmao oops. I made both Samira & reader bi considering I'm bi so I could relate to it and I hope others are able to enagge with it as well! (I almost psyched myself out of posting this okay be nice). Proof read by moi. Reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. <3

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

If someone had predicted where the night took you both, you would’ve laughed in their face.

It was supposed to be a simple night out for drinks. Both you and Samira had finally gotten a couple of days off; more like you forced the girl from going back to The Pitt when they didn’t need any help. You always told her the same thing: “If you keep going at this rate, you’ll get grays before you hit 35, hun.” She would only roll her brown eyes at you, a cheeky dimple poking out on the side of her face as she laughed it off.

It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, two close friends sharing quality time with one another after their workdays ended. That was how it started anyway, through brief conversations and minor interactions with the resident whenever your shifts aligned. You could see right through her, how her job was all she had, how all she knew was the chaos of the PTMC to match the havoc of her psyche. Albeit, her gorgeous smile and kind demeanor hid it well for the most part, at least when Robby wasn’t grilling her, but when you urged her to go home to prevent an adrenaline crash, she actually listened to you most times.

Samira would bring tea in advance during the mornings you worked together, repeatedly warning you that your heart would give out with all of the caffeine you consumed on a daily basis. You simply shrug at her and chug the liquid out of your thermos, watching her as you do. It'd make her grimace, grumble even, but you’d take it so long as you got something.

“You should listen to me, you know. Try some tea, it won’t kill you as quickly.” Samira lectured, trying to bribe you with using brown sugar instead of the agave sweetener she likes.

“I’m not letting you take my coffee away from me, sorry. We will just have to accept our differences.”

“Forgive me for caring about your health. Let’s just hope I’m in the room with you when you’re tachycardic.”

Lunch times were your favorite, often opting to sit outside with Samira for a breather, sharing bits and pieces of your meal together, whether it came from home or you ordered it in advance. At night, when it was time to call it a day and repeat the cycle the next morning, Samira would be there to walk with you back to your place, or you would take her to hers. You’d give each other a rundown of the day, of the chest tube you had to put in or the new case study Samira was looking into and finally got to use in practice.

These little moments always eased your nerves after dealing with so much intensity on a daily basis, and it only took a couple of late-night walks to realize you liked Samira’s company, and more so you wanted it outside of working hours. On one particularly hard shift and a relatively quiet stroll, you knew you didn’t want to be alone, and even with the reassuring squeeze on your shoulder, a part of you craved her calming presence to tether you to the Earth.

“You want to go out for a drink? I know a good bar nearby. They make good margaritas.”

She nodded silently, offering an understanding smile, and walked side by side with you the entire way to the bar, stayed with you for the rest of the night, and even rode in the cab back to your apartment. When you woke up with a hangover the next morning, you were surprised to find Samira hovering above you, wiping your forehead with a cool compress, soothing the throbbing in your temples before the wave of nausea hit you.

“Wanted to make sure you were okay. You went a bit hard last night.”

The rest was history.

Tonight, she took your advice and said yes to your invitation for drinks at a club downtown, another location you had mentioned to her a while ago. Samira, ever the overthinker, came by your place to get ready, bringing a bag with some outfit choices, seeking out your input. She didn’t say anything when you told her to wear the halter top and mini skirt, coming towards her to hike her skirt even higher and align her boobs closer to the center of her chest, giving them a push-up effect.

“You’re a pretty girl, Samira. You’ve got legs and a face that can start wars, use them. If you flirt with the bartender, maybe we’ll score and get ourselves some free drinks.”

You told her that with a playful smile and a slight twinkle in the corner of your eye, your dark lashes emphasizing the flare. Samira watched you finish the touch-ups on your makeup, the heeled boots and leather pants you wore did everything to sell a fantasy of you she got to witness firsthand. She’ll never admit to watching the way the curve of your ass looked in the stretchy material of your pants, or how the low neckline of your top revealed the little pieces of ink along your shoulder and arms that were usually hidden under your scrubs. She occupied herself with grabbing the rest of her belongings and throwing them in her purse, oblivious to how you eyed her from afar, re-applying the last bit of your lip gloss before calling the Uber.

At the club, it was another story entirely. You held her hand on your commute and reassuringly squeezed her wrist when you started to woo the bouncer, batting your lashes at him and brazenly puffing out your chest. It seemed to work when security let you both in, leading Samira further inside and ignoring the people who bitched outside about you two skipping the line.

Some flirting with the bartender and three cocktails later, you and Samira were on the dance floor, swaying your hips to the upbeat song filling the space around you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen your friend so relaxed, so free; inebriated yes, but enjoying herself nonetheless. Samira’s face was craned up to the sky, the bass of the beat thrumming through her entire being, rushing from the top of her head to the balls of her feet. Her hair bounced with the rest of her, loose waves spinning around with every bop of her head and twirl of her hips.

You followed her lead, holding her waist and guiding her movements from behind. She laughed at the feel of you, clutching your wrist and bringing your hand to the middle of her lower body, keeping her in place while you synchronized the circular gyration of your bodies. Meshing to her back, she could feel you pressing up behind her. Tossing her head back over your shoulder, she granted you a whiff of her perfume, giggling in her ear in the process, teasing her with the ghost of a bite on the side of her neck.

Samira pivots on her heel and turns to face you, smiling wide as she throws her arms over your shoulder and around your neck, your hands taking their natural place on her hips, beckoning her to you. She was all teeth and dimples as she rolled into you, dancing chest to chest, eyes on you and tuning everything else out. Neither of you cared for the other people in the space with you, honing in on the way she felt in your hands, the material of her skirt, the open back of her halter top, the ease with which she danced with you under the dim lighting.

Closing the gap between you, whatever was left of it, her nose grazed the tip of yours, barely tasting the vodka on her breath. You watched her face, how her gaze drifted from your eyes to your mouth and rapidly returned back up. It was subtle; you’d almost miss it if you blinked too fast, and thankfully your strict attention made sure you caught it.

“I’m having so much fucking fun.” God, she was drunk, you think anyway from the way there was more black than brown in her eyes. To you, she’s never looked prettier, smiling without a care in the world under bright shades of pink and purple.

“I bet. That’s the liquor talking.” Placing a hand on her back, you sensed the faint shiver that washed over her. “You got a couple of eyes on you, sweetie. Think these guys want a dance.”

“I’d rather not, thank you very much.” She didn’t even bother to acknowledge the men in question who had been eyeing her up and down all night, opting to keep her regard on you the entire time. “I very much prefer dancing with you.”

Pride bloomed in your chest, fighting the urge to steal a kiss right then and there. You held off, your hands treading dangerously close to her lower spine, sneaking towards the waistband of her skirt.

“Good, that means I don’t need to worry about you scurrying off with a stranger and leaving me behind.” Samira laughs hard then, loud enough to filter through the music in the club. You savored the scene in front of you, taking her in as if she hung the moon and the stars, as if she were that.

Must’ve been the tequila catching up with you.

“Trust me, that’s not happening.” Her knuckles rasp along your jaw, the tip of a nail poking your chin and skimming your bottom lip, pulling away to move a loose curl behind your ear. “I couldn’t leave you behind, that’s a federal crime.”

You sure fucking hoped that was the case.

It was about 2 am when you and Samira called it a night, heading to your place and resting into one another in the backseat, tumbling into bits of cackles as your sense of direction remained skewed from the alcohol still coursing through your veins. Her head rested against your shoulder, your hand on her thigh to keep her nearby, absentmindedly painting circles into her soft brown skin. Her head lifts to look at you, doing your best to ignore the way the haze in her eyes sends a surge of warmth through your body.

“What?”

“Nothing…” Her voice trails off, leaning more into you in the backseat.

“If you have something on your mind, Samira, you can tell me. Probably the best time considering I’m seeing two of you right now so I won’t remember.” You both giggle again, the sound ringing in your ears with her sudden close proximity.

“Just wanted to say I had a lot of fun is all.” She beams shyly at you, breathing heavier in your direction and placing a hand on your side to keep her from sinking into the cushion of the seat.

“Yeah?” You quirk your face in amusement, the corner of your lips curling upwards at her eager nod.

“Yeah.” Her forehead is against yours, beaming almost to herself, boldly glancing at the shiny gloss still on your lips.

“You’re so silly,” shaking your head, your goofy expression was mirrored by an intoxicated Samira Mohan, both ends of her mouth flexing with a chuckle.

“Your fault. I forgot how many shots we had.”

“It was two big ones, but shit, I might be wrong I lost count.”

The bubble of comfort you found yourselves in extended beyond the backseat of the Uber, the hand on your side wandered up to stroke your forearm aimlessly, focusing on the tattoo on your bicep. Samira hums at the feel of your skin, following the intricate lines the ink left behind, trying to learn the story behind it and the patience you needed to endure the needle piercing into your flesh over and over again. It was strangely intimate, close enough to feel her light exhales on the side of your cheek and her heart pounding in her ribs.

“Samira.”

“Hm?”

“If you want something, tell me before I think I’m reading this wrong.” Taking a hand to the back of her neck, your thumb caressed her nape, causing her to bite her lower lip.

“I think…I want you to kiss me.” Her big brown eyes were glazed over when she met your gaze, the sight alone sending your heart racing.

“You think?” God, you could hear your pulse in your ears, or was that your second heartbeat? “Gotta be better than that.”

“Please, just kiss me.”

Fucking finally.

Tilting forward, your lips mesh together like you’ve been dreaming about all night. The kiss was messy, clumsy even as Samira’s brain caught up with the rest of her, slithering her tongue along your bottom lip to ask for permission to taste more of you. Opening your mouth, your tongue quickly found hers, swirling around it while holding her face with a hand on her jaw. She sighs happily against you, her exhale landing on your top lip while attempting to bring herself closer to you, sitting with one of her thighs between yours.

The Uber came to a stop in front of your apartment complex, forcing you to part from her with an embarrassed grin. You reiterate a hasty thank you and take Samira’s hand with a coy smirk, speed walking into the lobby of your building to catch the next elevator up. Swiftly grabbing your keys for the front door and unlocking it as fast as you could, you shut the door behind you as Samira kicked her heels off and tugged you forward for another kiss.

“Hold on, hold on. Let me…fuck…wash my hands.” She was busy staining your cheeks with her lipstick, touching any part of you she could get her hands on.

“Mood killer,” she jokingly muttered over your lips, landing a few kisses down the column of your throat and biting at the juncture of where your neck meets your shoulder.

“Old habits die hard. Plus, do you know how nasty clubs are? You’re supposed to be the smart one here, darling.”

Smooching her pout, you were able to peel off your boots along the way to the kitchen, rinsing off your hands with Samira next to you doing the same. Impatient as ever, she dragged you to the couch once the paper towel flew out of your grip, sitting you down and crawling into your lap with your arm wrapping around her waist. She practically climbs over you, needy lips finding yours again and humming at the feel of you, her palms riding up your chest and landing on your shoulders before running through your hair.

A moan punches out of her, instinctively shifting her hips over your thighs as her skirt rides up her body, revealing more of her to your greedy hands. Littering kisses down her neck, you went to undo the knot of her halter top, jerking the material down to expose her breasts to your eager sight. Kissing along her collarbone and sternum, she arches towards you, presenting more of herself without shame. Deciding to provoke her a bit more, your lips glide over the swells of her breasts, grinning at her unsteady exhales, a sign that she was anxiously lusting for more with every smooch you give her.

“Stop teasing me.” She almost sounded like she was on the verge of tears, desperation laced in her tone the more you dragged this out.

“Can’t I have a little fun with you?” You quipped, eyes widening a bit when she took one of your hands and placed it on her ass cheek under her skirt, guiding you over the thong she wore underneath.

“Touch me.” She damn near growled against your lips, a hunger unfamiliar to her overriding her senses.

“Yeah? You need me to make it better, Samira?” She nods, gasping the second your free hand reaches up from between her inner thigh to stroke her cunt through her panties, marveling at the wetness already soaking through the cotton. “Need me to touch you right here, hm?”

“Fuck, yes, please,” she cried out, bucking her hips to grind into your hand, bumping into your fingertips at the right angle that would give her aching clit more of that delicious friction.

Not wasting another second to toy with her, you plucked her thong to the side and gravitated to her slick pearl, the first contact of your fingers against her forced a whine out of Samira as she closed her eyes and deepened the curve in her back. She didn’t care how desperate she sounded, her whimpers and breathless keens turning your living room into a choir for you to enjoy, reveling in every mewl she willingly offered you. Rubbing circles over her clit, her hips bucked into your hand, oblivious to your lips inclining back to her breasts, wrapping around one of her nipples.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Samira clutched at your head, keeping you in place as your tongue flicked over her saliva-covered breasts, clenching around nothing with her arousal dripping down your fingers.

You don’t think you’ve ever heard her curse so much before, groaning around her perky nipple and nipping at it lightly, moving to give the other neglected breast equal attention. Keeping your thumb on her sensitive nub, you plunged a digit inside her, noting the loud moan turned to a whine when you burrowed another, curling them to the roof of her entrance.

“How does that feel, pretty girl?” You mumbled, grasping her hip to keep her steady above you, keeping your eyes on her the entire time.

“So good, so damn good.” She was lost in the pleasure, stars fired under her eyelids as she fucked your hand, chasing her own pleasure. “God…I’m going to cum.”

“Yeah?” You upped your ministrations, pressing your thumb harder against her clit and pumping your fingers with more force. “Come for me, ‘Mira. Want to feel you around me. Just let go, baby.”

A few more drives of your fingers and Samira’s cunt tightened around your digits as she fell into release, crying into your mouth when you snatched another bruising kiss, swallowing all of her little noises for yourself. She came much faster than you both anticipated, but you didn’t mind, not when she slumped against you and struggled to catch her breath. Her head rose to peer at you chuckling below her, slipping your soaked fingers out of her twitching entrance and clasping her shaking thigh.

“What’s so funny?” Samira blinks slowly at you, cupping both of your cheeks and holding your face in her palms.

“Just didn’t think you’d sound like that. You’re loud.”

“Shut up.” Heat creeps up to her face and you laugh harder, squeezing her ass affectionately.

“I don’t mind.” You kiss her slowly once more, biting her bottom lip playfully and coaxing a huff out of her. “Kinda want to see just how loud you can get, if you’re up for it.”

Samira was never one to back down from a challenge, humming in competitive intrigue. A lone finger moves over the neckline of your top, tracing over the lining that still kept the rest of your body hidden from her curious eyes. Tugging at the side of your top, she stares down at you, smirking as the same ravishing throb she felt before beats between her legs.

“Show me what you got.”

It was going to be a long night.

©️ ovaryacted 2025. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Mood: