Oh fuck me the fuck up with that shit. And the best part is it’s not even Scarlet, this is allllllllll tiger.
So she gets these fucking sex-on-heels boots. And maybe she gets a bomb ass lingerie set to go with it. And maybe…maybe she’s a bit of a tease at first. Maybe she just wears the boots with some cute tights, a long ass knit sweater, out to brunch one weekend with her Big Dude. And her outfit is cute and innocent, but her boots are naughty as hell and Bill is like, sweating.
“Are uh….are these new?” he knocks his foot against her shin gently under the table.
“Yeah,” she beams at him as she stabs some fruit, “Aren’t they cute?”
“Adorable,” he deadpans. His cheeks take on a pink hue.
Tiger wears them with skinny jeans out to dinner. She has a million different tunics she pairs them with–and every time she does, Bill fucking dies.
And then she zeroes in for the kill shot, and she treats herself to a real nice lingerie set. And when Bill gets home from an irritating day full of meetings, tiger meets him in the hallway done up to the nines–make up, lingerie set, and her thigh high boots. Bill’s throat goes dry, he sucks in a breath, and his pants tighten.
“Hey bud,” she purrs, and she’s every bit the bombshell–hand on her cocked hip, holding his gaze. Bill licks his lips slowly.
“Which one of my girls is with me tonight?” he asks, because he’s not going to make the mistake again of calling her Scarlet if this is alllllllll her.
“Just me,” she shrugs and it’s not apologetic in the least, “Come here, bud.”
He rolls up the cuffs on his shirt as he makes his way to her, his steps slow, drinking her in as he approaches. When he’s close enough he holds her gaze and cocks an eyebrow, but something about her is…different. Bold. Unyielding. A shiver runs down his spine.
“On your knees,” she commands. And listen–listen–I don’t HC Bill as a sub at all. But his girl done up like this, taking charge? Oh, he’s going to do WHATEVER she tells him to. And with a devilish smirk, he holds her gaze.
“Yes Mistress,” he whispers, and his eyes stay locked on hers the entire time that he sinks slowly to his knees. She doesn’t yield either–god he’s so proud of her–she just holds his stare evenly, the same devilish smirk on her lips.
Once he’s on his knees in front of her she bends, lightly fingering that long curl on his forehead as she brushes her lips with his.
“Good boy,” she purrs. Bill’s eyes close for the first time, and he can’t even stop the small moan that comes out under his breath.
“Hands,” she snaps her fingers and his eyes shoot open. He brings his hands to the front, holding them together as she pulls a pair of handcuffs from her corset.
She holds the cuffs in front of him, gauging his reaction–she’s never quite used them on him, not like this anyway.
“Yes?” she asks, and she swears his eyes are glazing over.
“Please Mistress,” he says, but she curls her lip and makes a meh sound. Bill smiles a little–she wants to be her, and god his heart could burst with pride at her courage.
“Please tiger,” he corrects, and she leans to drag his bottom lip between her teeth. She nips at it as he moans.
“Better,” she says as she pulls away, and she bends to loop the cuffs around his wrists. He gets a glorious view of her cleavage, all boosted up and in his face and god she smells amazing. When she clicks the locks, she buries one hand in the back of his hair and yanks his head up–he grunts, but it’s smothered as she crushes her lips to his.
“You ready to have some fun, buddy?” she asks, and Bill is already out of breath and hazy and now his lips are smeared in her dark red lipstick.
“Oh god please,” he moans, “Anything, tiger. All of it.”
“Hmm, I don’t know bud,” she teases, and she plants a heeled boot right in the middle of his chest. She grabs his hair again, roughly yanking his head up, “Can you handle it?”
Bill just smirks, bites at her wrist before leaning forward and licking up the inside of her thigh.
“Hit me with your best shot.”
