#this is my dark place and I get to post whatever the fuck I want
Text
when time runs out, what comes after?
Available on Ao3
Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC; Ominis Gaunt x Anne Sallow
tags: one shot, you POV, post-Hogwarts life
word count: 6.9k
Warnings: 🔞 angst as fuck, use of profanities, smut, 18+ explicit sexual content, adult characters, mild fingering, grief sex?
Summary: Because time is like a relentless river that will eventually run its course. Yet, amidst the uncertainty of what lay ahead, you found solace in the knowledge that new beginnings awaited. And you can’t wait to start your new journey with Sebastian.
Notes: I was watching FB and somehow Queenie and Jacob reminded me of Ominis and Anne. Then it led me into thinking about what life could've been for our MC and it got me feeling sappy as fuck like????
Tbh idk what this is? but enjoy it, anyway.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the quaint hamlet of Feldcroft, the autumn breeze enveloped the village in a serene embrace. The sky was painted with hues of orange, pink, and purple as if nature itself was bidding farewell to the day in a grand display of colours.
Over the years after the quaint little village was free from the gruesome terror enacted by goblins and dark wizards, Feldcroft has beautifully regained its liveliness.
In the centre of it all, a lively marketplace had sprung up, illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns and fairy lights. Stallholders peddled their wares– handcrafted jewellery, knitted scarves, jars of homemade preserves– their voices mingling with the laughter and chatter of the crowd.
The place that Sebastian once called home now truly feels like home.
His childhood house is now occupied by Ominis and his sister Anne. His best friend had promised that when they graduated, he would stay with Anne and take care of her with whatever time she had left. That was three years ago, and they’ve been living together ever since. Meanwhile, you and Sebastian found purpose living in the city. Your careers are thriving and you found solace in each other's company, living in a little space you happily share.
After your triumph over Ranrok, you had managed to gradually learn how to wield your ancient magic to its potential. Although you’ve not truly mastered how to completely cure diseases or curses yet, you found a way to somehow ease it. And that’s what you’ve been doing for Anne. Your effort managed to give more years to her life, hoping one day you would eventually master your magic to cure her.
You and Sebastian would regularly visit Feldcroft to do your mending routine on Anne, and this weekend was one of the occasions.
The breeze enveloping the hamlet felt like a gentle caress as it danced through the narrow path you were sharing with Sebastian. You were returning home after a quick grocery trip to the marketplace, accompanied by your boyfriend, who gallantly carried the grocery bag with one arm while the other was wrapped around you.
When you entered the house, Ominis and Anne were seated at the dining table, already eagerly awaited for your arrival. Your brows furrowed at the sudden lively greeting from the couple, “What’s going on?”
“There’s something we’d like to share.” The grin on Anne’s face was suspicious yet delightful.
“Come, have a seat.” Ominis’ tone was rushing the both of you to do as he said.
You and Sebastian quickly exchanged glances, feeling just a tad worried at what the other two had in mind, before finally doing what Ominis had asked.
After Sebastian put aside the grocery bag on the table, Anne quickly grasped his brother’s hand with that grin that has yet to dissipate, “You guys are freaking me out. What’s going on?” Sebastian said.
“Okay, Ominis and I were talking and we’ve been thinking about this for quite some time now..” Anne began slowly, “We have decided that..”
“We want to get married..” Ominis quickly picked up on Anne’s sentence, tone filled with excitement.
“Oh my god!” You exclaimed, equally excited, “That's wonderful news.”
“..Tomorrow.” Anne completed the sentence that was apparently unfinished.
“What?” The tone of Sebastian’s voice dropped, “What do you mean tomorrow?”
“As in the day after today, Sebastian.” She clarified like Sebastian was a Flobberworm.
“Yes, I know what tomorrow means.” He was ticked off by the treatment, “But what– how– why so soon?”
“Why not?” Anne sounded disappointed that Sebastian wasn’t as excited.
“Are you pregnant?” Sebastian bluntly and inconsiderately shot his chance.
“What?!”
“Sebastian!”
“No, I am not!”
Sebastian's face winced at the overlapping aggravation that came out of everyone, “What? It’s a valid question.”
“You don’t think it’s a good idea?” The timbre in Anne’s voice made you feel bad for her.
“Of course, I think it’s a fantastic idea to get married.” He was quick to reassure her, trying not to sound lacking in spirit, "But don't you want more time to prepare for something like this?"
Anne sighed softly, her disappointment evident as she exchanged a glance with Ominis, who seemed equally deflated by Sebastian's response, "It's just.. we've been together for quite some time now." Anne began, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "And we don't want to wait any longer than we have to."
“And it’s not like we got a selection of family to invite.” Ominis added, “You guys are our family.”
Sebastian’s turned to you like he was looking for an extra pillar of certainty. And his expression softened with understanding dawning in his eyes when he was met with your supportive smile.
“I’m sorry,” He tightened his grip on his sister’s hands, “I didn’t mean to dampen your excitement. If this is what you both want, then I’m behind you one hundred percent.”
You nodded in agreement, "We're here for you, whatever you need. And if tomorrow is the day you want to have a wedding, then we'll make sure it's perfect."
Anne's face brightened at your words, gratitude shining in her eyes. "Thank you," she said softly, her voice filled with emotion.
“I can’t believe tomorrow you’re going to be Mr. and Mrs. Gaunt.” You're basically kicking and giggling at the thought of your two best friends finally sharing their names.
“Sallow.” Ominis corrected, “It’s going to be Mr. and Mrs. Sallow.”
Sebastian couldn’t help but smile ear-to-ear, “That sounds even better.”
Everyone seemed to be filled with joy at the decision. But you understood where Sebastian’s suspicion stemmed from. If they were so worried about waiting, why not three years ago? And if there wasn't any particular urgency, why does it have to be tomorrow?
While everyone was exchanging joyous hoots and gazes, your eyes met with Anne’s and you almost didn’t notice that tiny twinge of gloom behind the yawning grin on her face. But it was there, ever so subtle. The sight gave you a small discomfort but you didn’t want to ruin the mood.
So you pushed the thought aside and were ready to get on with the dinner you promised everyone you’d prepare. There’s no room for anything but delight when a celebration awaits everyone tomorrow.
-
Since the wedding practically only had an invitation for two, naturally, you became the maid of honour. Today your service and dedication were solely in the courtesy of Anne Sallow to make sure that you had everything perfectly prepared for her.
As the bride settled into the chair in front of the vanity, you stood behind her, ready to assist with her makeover. With gentle hands, you brushed through the thinned and fragile strands of her hair, feeling the delicate strands beneath your touch. Taking Anne's fragile hair into account, you opted for a gentle half-up, half-down that would be both elegant and comfortable. Soft tendrils framed her face, lending a touch of romance to the look without adding any unnecessary strain.
Once it was arranged to perfection you moved onto her makeup, selecting colours that would enhance her natural beauty without overpowering her delicate features. You couldn't help but notice the prominence of her cheekbones like a stark reminder of the weight loss she had endured. Her complexion, though still beautiful, lacked the healthy flush of vitality it once held.
While you were intently putting your best work into Anne, both of you shared jokes and stories to accompany the duty. She had a way of making even the most mundane moments feel effortless and joyful. Her laughter was infectious, and her ability to find humour in any situation never failed to lift my spirits. Despite everything she had endured, Anne's eyes still sparkled with a glimmer of mischief and resilience.
As you shared laughter and fond memories, Anne suddenly clutched her abdomen, her face contorted in pain. Your heart skipped a beat as you realised the source of her distress—it was the curse. With a surge of panic, you hurried to grab your wand and kneeled beside the chair where she was sitting. Anne attempted to contain the pain at first, her efforts were evident in the furrow of her brow and the tight grip of her hands on her abdomen. But soon, the intensity became too much to bear, and despite her best efforts, a soft yet pained groan escaped her lips.
You had one hand holding hers, allowing her to clutch into yours while your other hand began to work your wand, channelling your ancient magic to help her ease the pain. Your heart clenched at the sound of her agony and your hands trembled with fear.
“Hang in there, Anne..” Your voice provided soothing comfort. You could tell the magic was slowly doing its work as the grip on your hand loosened and Anne regained control of her breathing, “I’m here..”
You stayed by her side, hand never leaving hers like a silent comfort as the magic continued to work its healing touch. After Anne's strength gradually returned, she managed to open her eyes and gave you a knowing smile, “I’m alright now.. Thank you.”
You put down your wand so both of your hands can grasp into hers. Worry still settled over you. It was only yesterday since you did your mending on Anne. The effect would usually last her a month– or two even when she was doing so well. But for it to not even last twenty-four hours meant the curse was only getting stronger, and your magic was becoming futile.
“How long?” You began to ask. Your voice was soft but still laced with anguish.
Anne let out a heavy sigh before answering, “Almost six months now..” Her breathing was still a little bit unsteady, "I’ve noticed the effects have been getting shorter and shorter.”
“Oh, Anne.. why didn’t you tell me.” Your heart ached even more knowing she must have endured it on her own.
“I didn’t know how to.” She admitted.
As a deep sense of despair washed over you, you couldn't help but grasp the gravity of the circumstances. Meeting her gaze, you glimpsed a reflection of your own emotions mirrored in her eyes. While kneeling beside her, you took a moment to observe the woman before you, her faint smile betraying the anguish she must have been enduring.
How awful it must’ve been to pretend everything was fine while she was crumbling inside.
“Does Ominis know?”
She nodded, “Not long ago.” Anne didn’t have to say it, but now you understand the underlying reason for the impulse on the wedding, "I tried to hide it for a while, but that man knows me too well not to find out something was wrong."
"How are you feeling?" You gently asked like a fragile little petal that she was. There were layers of concern in your voice.
She hesitated for a moment like she was contemplating whether to share the truth, "Not so good." disappointment coloured both her expression and tone, “I knew it couldn’t cure me. But I truly thought it would still last me forever, you know.”
“I know..” Your thumb caressing the back of her hand, "I thought so, too."
She let out a heavy sigh, "Well, it was good while it lasted."
“Have you told Sebastian?"
"Not yet. Not today," she said, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I just want to get married to the man that I love and pretend, at least for this day, that I am not withering."
You felt a surge of empathy for Anne. Despite her hardships, there was a quiet determination in her voice. She just wished to find joy amidst the challenges she faced.
"You don't have to pretend with us."
"I know that." She smiled softly, "But it makes me feel a little bit better. Just for today."
She lifted her trembling hand to gently stroke your hair. And when her eyes met yours, the sorrow that reigned over her eyes pierced through you, shattering your heart into a million pieces.
"You have no idea how grateful I am that Sebastian's questionable behaviour ended up being the thing that brought you two together.” You chuckled at her remarks, and the twitch in your eyes finally allowed the tears that had been so desperate to fall to cascade down your cheeks, "And I'm grateful to have found a sister in you."
At that moment, neither of you could hold back the tears any longer. The floodgates of emotion burst open, releasing a torrent of tears that had been held back. Amidst the overwhelming grief, there was also a profound sense of gratitude for the strength you had found in the brief but powerful bond you shared with her.
"You can fight this." You choked out, "Please.. Just a little bit more, Anne. I'm getting better with my magic. I think I'm almost there."
"No.." She shook her head, "I don't think I can wait anymore."
You nestled your head on her lap, finding solace in her gentle touch as she continued to stroke your hair. It felt as though she was the one offering comfort.
“Promise me.” She said softly, “That you’ll watch over them when I’m not around. Merlin knows what those boys will do without supervision.”
And once more, amidst the tears and sobs, a faint chuckle escaped from both of you. It was a moment of bittersweet release.
And when you lifted your head, you met Anne's gaze with a solemn nod, though your heart felt heavy with the weight of her request. "I promise," You vowed, "I won't go anywhere. But you have to know, Anne.. I could never replace you."
“You already have.” She reached out to wipe the tears that streamed down your cheeks, “When I'm gone, they’ll have no one but you in this world. You are their family– my family. You have to understand that you mean the world to all of us.”
You took a heavy, deep breath, trying to stifle the uncontrollable sobs threatening to consume you. But it was no use– each inhale and exhale only trembled more with emotion. The thought of Sebastian and Ominis losing Anne, the person they loved, filled you with crushing despair. You couldn't bear the idea of witnessing their pain, knowing that you held the power within you to help her, if only you knew how.
Everything felt agonisingly close yet impossibly out of reach, leaving you feeling utterly helpless in the face of Anne's impending fate.
You don't want to lose her.
"I wish we had more time."
“You gave us more time when we thought there was none left. You gave me a chance to live, to love Ominis, and Sebastian..." Her voice trembled from the emotion, "You have no idea how much joy you've brought back into his life. And you've given me the gift of witnessing that happiness.” She managed to put up a smile and you wished she didn’t. Pretending was no longer necessary, and you wanted her to feel free to express her true emotions, “You have given me a lifetime. And for that, I owe you everything.”
You reached out and pulled her into a tight hug, holding her close while trying to imprint every moment of this precious connection into your memory. This could be one of the few last hugs you'd be able to share with her, and you wanted to cherish every second of it.
"Alright, that's enough tears for now," she said gently, pulling away and wiping your tears. "You've got to save it for when I'm actually dead."
“Anne!” You protested at the inappropriate joke. Although you’ve got to admit there was a mix of amusement inside of you at her attempt to lighten the mood.
“I’m sorry.” A faint smile playing on her lips.
The both of you shared a final chuckle before you set to work on redoing Anne's makeup, realising that almost everything was ruined from the intense sobbing. But you didn't mind– in fact, you welcomed the opportunity to spend more time with her, cherishing every moment you had left together.
After you finished, you picked up your wand and cast a spell on Anne's clothing. In an instant, she was adorned in a stunning white dress, radiating an ethereal beauty that took your breath away.
You took a moment to cast the same spell on your own clothes, transforming them into attire more suitable for the event. You left Anne to rest inside and headed outside to begin setting up for the ceremony this evening.
Working your wand with precision, you crafted a beautiful yet intimate setting in the confines of their backyard. Despite the limited space, you conjured an enchanting atmosphere, transforming the modest surroundings into a magical haven fit for a wedding. The flowers bloomed in colourful bursts, intertwining with lush greenery to create a picturesque backdrop for the ceremony.
Despite the simplicity of the setup, every detail was carefully curated to evoke a sense of intimacy and romance, ensuring that Anne's special day would be nothing short of unforgettable.
While you were immersed in the enchanting setup, you were surprised by the sudden embrace that came behind you, “Hello, beautiful.” Unable to resist the exposed skin from your updo hair, he planted tender kisses along your neck. Sebastian is always such a tease.
With a soft smile, you leaned into his embrace, “I’m doing something here.” you teased, but still couldn't help but enjoy the affectionate gesture.
Sebastian chuckled then nuzzled his head into your neck. His warm breath sent shivers up and down your spine, "Anything I can help with?" he whispered in your ear. You could feel his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you close.
Just as you finished with your setup, you leaned back against his strong frame, feeling completely secure in his arms. "You can be here with me, holding me."
A comfortable silence settled between the two of you, taking in the intimate moment and the romantic decor. The scene before you stirred thoughts of your own future wedding, prompting a gentle curiosity about when that moment might come.
"How's Anne doing?" Sebastian's voice broke the silence, drawing your attention.
You turned to face him, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you loop your arm around his neck, drawing him closer. "Very happy," You replied softly, "She's ready."
“Ominis is, too.” There was a mix of joy and relief in his face,“I’m so glad they finally get to have their happy ending.”
His words hit you hard. Sebastian remained unaware of the true extent of Anne’s condition. Because the happy ending he thought she’s having isn’t as perfect as it seemed.
“Are you alright?” He noticed the change in your expression.
You nodded, masking the trouble brewing inside.
“Are you sure?” He persisted. His voice sounded more concerned this time.
You wanted to confide in him, but it didn't feel right. Anne deserved to share the news with her brother herself. "I just think it's a beautiful day for a wedding," you lied.
Sebastian smiled, leaning in to give you a sweet kiss on your lips, his affectionate gesture momentarily distracting you from the weight of the secret you carried.
-
As the ceremony finally commenced, you and Sebastian stood side by side, bathed in the glow of the evening sun. The gentle breeze carried the soft rustle of leaves and the sweet scent of wildflowers, adding to the serene ambience of the outdoor setting. In the distance, the rolling hills provided a breathtaking backdrop for the intimate gathering.
Anne, radiant in her flowing white dress, walked down the aisle with grace, her eyes sparkling with love and anticipation. Ominis stood at the altar, his expression a mixture of nerves and excitement as he awaited his bride.
The sound of their vows filled the air, heartfelt and sincere, weaving a tapestry of promises and dreams for the future.
It was time for them to exchange rings. And finally, as they shared their first kiss as husband and wife, the world seemed to stand still, capturing the beauty and magic of this momentous occasion. You and Sebastian watched with pride and happiness, your hearts overflowing with love for the newlyweds.
But the joyous atmosphere shattered in an instant as Anne fell to the ground, her agonising scream piercing the air. Shock and fear gripped everyone present as they rushed to her side. The curse had struck once again.
The pain seemed to be worse than before because Anne's consciousness began to fade. Ominis lifted and carried her inside while his face etched with fear and worry. You and Sebastian followed closely as Ominis gently laid his bride on the bed.
You quickly tended to her side and began using your magic to ease her pain once again while Ominis sat beside you, holding Anne’s hand tightly in his own.
Sebastian stood by, watching his sister fighting her pain, feeling utterly helpless. Her screams tore at his heart, shredding it into pieces.
He finally began to realise the true situation of Anne’s condition.
Unable to bear the sight any longer, he stormed out of the house, his breath ragged from the onslaught of negative emotions. He wandered aimlessly, searching for a space where he could calm himself down and gather his thoughts.
-
After tending to Anne's needs and ensuring she had something to eat to regain her strength, you realised that Sebastian had been conspicuously absent. Concerned, you stepped outside and immediately knew where to find him. Following the familiar path atop the hill that overlooked the hamlet, you remembered how Sebastian always loved this spot for its breathtaking view of the village below.
Upon reaching the hilltop, you were greeted by the sight of your lover, standing at the edge and gazing out over the village. The fading light of the setting sun casted a warm glow over the landscape.
Sebastian's shoulders were tense, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he stared into the distance. You approached him quietly, the soft crunch of gravel beneath your shoes barely audible over the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze.
You stood just a little bit behind him, giving him the space he needed to collect his thoughts. Despite the distance, you could feel the stress emanating from him.
"You knew, didn't you?" He finally said, breaking the silence. You expected something sharp and judgemental coming out of him, but there was none of it. His stare remained fixed in the distance.
You nodded even though he couldn't see it, "Just today."
"Did she tell you how long ago?"
You hesitated for a moment, "Six months."
Sebastian scoffed and his expression hardened, his eyes narrowing with a hint of anger. "Six fucking months," he muttered, "Why didn't she tell us sooner?"
You felt a pang of guilt at his tone, knowing that Anne's decision to keep her condition a secret had hurt him deeply, "I think she was trying to protect us."
He shook his head and his jaw clenched tightly. "Protect us?" he repeated, voice rising with emotion. "From what exactly? From the tremendous amount of pain we’re already living with every single day? We're her family, for Merlin’s sake, we should have been there for her."
You knew that Anne's silence had shaken him to the core, and the road ahead would be filled with challenges as they grappled with the consequences of her decision.
"I should’ve been there for her." The quiver of regret was evident this time, “How many times have we gone to visit her in the past six months? And not once did she mention anything. She pretended like she was alright.”
“That’s exactly why, Sebastian.” You replied gently, "She didn’t want to keep pretending. She just wanted to cherish the time she had left without constantly dwelling on her illness. By allowing her to live her life the way she wants to, we were already there for her."
“But she’s my sister.” His voice cracked with emotions.
“I know..” You murmured, feeling the weight of his pain.
Then, a single tear escaped from the corner of his eyes that was clearly betraying the emotions he struggled to contain. He instinctively turned his head, his hand moving swiftly to brush away the tear.
You wanted to give him space to be in his own vulnerability, so you stood in place.
“To think of the fact that she decided to endure it on her own..” There was so much guilt in his voice. Then he fell quiet for a moment before continuing, “It's funny, isn't it? How time seems to slip through our fingers, no matter how tightly we try to hold on."
You listened in silence, feeling the weight of his words settle over you like a heavy blanket. The realisation that time was finite– that eventually, it would run out.
"We spend our days chasing after hope, trying to cure Anne," Sebastian continued, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "But the truth is, time waits for no one. Even for those who possess magic, it marches on, indifferent to our hopes and desires."
It was the first time you’d seen Sebastian being this vulnerable. It only showed how much love he carried for his sister.
"And when it's gone," Sebastian murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "all we're left with are the memories of what could have been– what I could’ve done for Anne.” His tone carried a sense of despair and it unsettled you deeply. It felt as though the fierce determination of a man who would move mountains to save his sister had been extinguished.
"I just wish I had done more for her," He admitted.
“Hey,” Closing the distance, you gently lifted his chin, urging him to meet your gaze with compassion while his eyes were shimmering with tears, "You've been there for her in more ways than you realise. And she knows that.” His tears flowed more freely at your comforting words. Without hesitation, you cupped his cheeks and brushed away the tears, “She’s made her choice, Sebastian. The most important thing now is to cherish the time we have left with her and make every moment count. Because you can’t go back in time, it only runs out."
As harsh as reality was, Sebastian knew you were telling him what he needed to hear. Because if you don’t make the most of your time, the only thing that will remain is regret.
“I can’t promise you that it will be easy," you continued. "But I can promise you that I'll be here every step of the way."
He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as if seeking refuge in your warmth. Taking your hand, he pressed a tender kiss to your palm before meeting your gaze, "I don't know what I'd do without you." He whispered,
"You won't have to find out." You replied with a reassuring smile.
Sebastian's eyes held yours, filled with gratitude and a hint of vulnerability. In that shared moment, you both understood the depth of your connection and the support you offered each other.
Then he pulled you into a tight embrace and you yielded to his warmth, feeling the comforting strength of his arms around you. Resting your head against his chest, you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a reassuring cadence amidst the uncertainty that surrounded you.
He fell quiet for a moment. Stroking your hair with one hand while the other rubs your back with comfort.
“Thank you.” He finally said.
“What for?”
“Everything.” He whispered as he reflected on how different things could have been for Anne, and how her current happiness was beyond anything he had dared to hope for. “If you asked me five years ago what life would be like for Anne today, I’d say she’d be long gone and buried deep in the ground. I never thought I’d see her get married. This is all happening because of you.”
“You know I would do anything for Anne.” You replied softly.
He pulled away to meet your gaze, “And I would do anything for you.”
There was something special about the way he looked at you, the way his dark eyes were captivated by yours. The warmth of his embrace and the tenderness in his touch made you feel cherished in that moment.
It felt like the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of intimacy. Everything else ceased to exist as you were enveloped by his presence, captivated by the depth of his gaze and the warmth of his embrace.
Sebastian drew nearer, his eyes locking onto yours with intensity. His hand trailed through your hair, tenderly caressing your cheek as he leaned in closer. The sensation of his chest against yours sent your heart into a flurry of anticipation.
It was kind of funny to you, how this man could still make your heart flutter in the most exciting ways ever even after sharing hundreds of kisses.
Right before his lips touched yours, he paused, looking at you intently. The intimacy grew with each passing second as he leaned closer until finally connecting his lips to yours.
Sebastian's touch was sensual, yet tender. There was a delicate balance of passion and tenderness in his kiss. His lips felt warm and inviting, like the gentle warmth of a summer in the middle of the cold autumn breeze.
The kiss deepened and the intensity rose with every passing second. Lost in the kiss, you could feel all the worries and stresses of life wash away– like maybe Anne wasn’t dying, or Ominis wasn’t about to face his worst heartbreak, and Sebastian wasn’t going to lose his sister, and all that was left was the warmth of his touch.
As the weight of everything going on amplified the intensity of your emotions, it also seemed to intensify your desire, heightening every sensation, every touch, every whisper of longing. It was as if the urgency of the moment fueled the fire burning between you and Sebastian.
You didn’t want this to end. You wished you could live in whatever intoxicating illusion this feeling was.
The kiss went on and Sebastian tightened his grip, pulling you closer to him. The sensation of his lips and the heat of his body pressed up against you had your mind spinning. Every touch of his lips on yours was more arousing than the last.
The heat was becoming too intense, and you wanted more.
Sebastian continued to explore your body with his hands, grazing his fingers along your curves. He moved his hands upwards towards your chest and your breath hitched at his touch.
Despite the lust that was slowly eating away your rational thinking, deep inside, in the back of your mind, you had a sudden realisation. Sebastian’s griefing and this felt like an unhealthy outlet. The guilt weighed on your mind but the brunette began trying to unzip your dress.
“Sebastian..” You pulled away and whispered breathlessly against his lips, “You’re grieving.”
He shook his head, “I want you..” He put trails of kisses along your jaw and neck, making everything even more irresistible.
You bit your lip. “Not like this.”
“Please..” He whispered in your ear and you couldn’t hold the soft moan that escaped your lips.
The sensation of Sebastian's kisses sent shivers down your spine, his breath hot on your skin. You tried your best to resist him, but it was becoming too much to bear. And when his hand slid under your dress and touched your heat, temptation took over you and your body yielded under his touch.
“Fuck.. Sebastian.”
"I know you want me, too," He whispered. Your body betrayed your words as you grew wetter with desire. The sensation of his touch on your clit, using your own fluids as a lubricant, sent waves of pleasure through you. At that moment, you no longer wanted him to stop.
Your body responded instinctively to Sebastian's touch. Your back arched into his hand as pleasure washed over you and your hips rolled around to the movement of his finger. Giving in to the pleasure, your eyelids fluttered shut and your head fell backwards.
As Sebastian kissed your collarbone, your dress slipped off your shoulder, exposing more of your skin and eventually revealing your breasts.
Sebastian groaned softly at the sight before him, unable to resist the temptation of your hardened nipple. With eager anticipation, he lowered his lips to take it into his mouth, his fingers continuing their skilful movements. The combination of his touch and his lips against your skin sent your senses reeling.
Your moans were like music to his ears. With each gasp and whimper that escaped your lips, his craving only intensified, driving him to seek out more ways to please you, “Oh darling, I can’t take it anymore.”
He pulled away, allowing your dress to fall to your feet with a soft rustle of fabric. With gentle yet firm hands, he lifted you, then carefully guided you to lie down on the ground beneath you.
As you lay there, the cool earth beneath you provided a stark contrast to the heat of your desire. You watched Sebastian undress himself, his muscles rippling beneath his skin with every movement. With each article of clothing he shed, your anticipation grew, knowing that soon you would be able to feel his warmth inside of you.
When his thick, hard cock came into view, your hand instinctively reached out to touch it, but Sebastian was quick to grab your wrist and pin it above your head. Leaning in close, his hot breath washed over your skin. While his cock, wet with precum, brushed against your stomach. "So eager now, aren’t we?" he whispered huskily.
“Just fuck me already,” you begged so desperately wanting to feel him inside of you.
Sebastian's lips curled into a wicked smile at your boldness. You didn’t have to tell him twice.
With a low growl, he released your wrist and positioned himself between your thighs and without a word, he entered you slowly, savouring every inch of the delicious friction between your bodies. His hand slipped under your thigh and pushed your knee so he could gain better access into your depths.
And just as he expected, the position allowed his length to slide inside you so gracefully deep. As he settled fully inside you, a groan of pleasure escaped his lips.
He began to move and each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, you surrendered completely to the ecstasy of the moment, lost in the rhythm of Sebastian pumping you, “Ah.. fuck– yes..”
Your moans echoed through the silent night, mingling with the rustling leaves and whistling wind. The sounds of nature seemed to fade into the background and were replaced by the sound of your lusts.
His movement was slow but he hit you deep and right exactly where you wanted him to be. You clenched hard around his cock and it sent him frantic, “You feel.. so damn good..”
Your hand gripped his toned arms, your back arched, and your head leaned back in ecstasy. Without missing a beat of his thrusts, Sebastian seized the opportunity to lavish on your bare skin, trailing kisses along your neck and collarbone.
Then, he took the moment to give your bouncing breasts some attention, taking one in his mouth and sucking it gently. And by Merlin’s beard, this man knew how to multitask.
You spread your legs wide and angled your hips, meeting each of Sebastian's deep thrusts with equal fervour. When his rhythm intensified, the nails of your hand dug into his arm and it elicited a sharp intake of breath that came out of him.
With each thrust, you felt a different kind of connection with Sebastian, a deeper sense of intimacy. It was as if every movement, every caress, carried the weight of the world and the depth of your emotions. This felt more than just physical pleasure– it felt like a shared understanding of the fleeting nature of time and the preciousness of the moments you shared together.
Sebastian brushed aside the strands of hair that obscured your face, his gaze penetrating, filled with a tumult of emotions—lust, grief, love, all swirling together. At that moment, when his eyes locked with yours, you felt the depth of his presence. The way he looked at you, the way he felt inside of you, it was overwhelming– it was so, so good it made you want to cry.
Your legs wrapped around his hips, urging him to delve deeper. Sebastian's deep, husky voice filled the air with a moan, your name escaping his lips in a desperate plea for more, “I.. I love you..” He declared breathlessly, his words laden with raw emotion, “I love you.. so much..”
“I love you too..” You cupped his cheek, pressing your foreheads together, “I-im so.. so close..”
He tightened his embrace around you, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he chased his own climax. With a fervent kiss, he whispered against your lips, "Come with me, darling.”
The intensity built and you felt the tension coil within you, ready to unravel at any moment. And then, as if on cue, you felt it—the wave of pleasure crashing over you. Your body tensed, every nerve ending alive with sensation as cries of ecstasy escaped your lips, filling the air with the sweet sound of your orgasm, “oh fuck– Sebastian!”
With a guttural groan, he cried out your name and reached his peak, his body shuddering with release as he spilled inside of you.
Sebastian collapsed against you, his chest heaving in an attempt to catch his breath. You wrapped your arms around him, basking in the afterglow of your moment.
He kissed the line of your shoulders, then your cheek, and eventually your lips.
As he pulled back slightly, he took a moment to stare at your face, his eyes filled with all of the emotions that were left, like he was trying to memorise every detail, every curve, every expression– he never wanted to forget this moment.
“You’re so beautiful.” He said with a smile that reminded you of all the reasons you fell for him.
“Oh, shut up.” You kissed him to mask the way your cheeks flushed red.
When you both pulled away from the kiss, you found yourselves lingering in the intimacy of the moment. Your noses brushed together softly, eliciting a gentle smile from both of you. Sebastian's fingers traced the contours of your jaw with delicate precision, his touch telling you how much he loves you.
You reciprocated by running your fingers through his hair, feeling the silky strands intertwine with your touch. The closeness between you felt electric.
“Marry me.” He suddenly said and your loving gaze swapped into confusion in an instant.
“What?”
“Marry me.” He repeated, “Today, tomorrow, next week– I don’t care.”
Sebastian's sudden proposal left you speechless as his words sank in slowly. His eyes bore into yours and you searched it for any hint of uncertainty. You know he’s grieving, and this could be just that. “Sebastian..”
“This is not grief talking or merely an after-sex impulse.” He assured you as if he could read your mind, “This is something that I’ve been thinking about for some time. With everything that’s been going on with Anne, don’t you think it’s telling us something?”
He was begging for your consideration, wanting you to believe that he meant every word.
“Cherish every moment we have left, you said.” He stroked your hair with a touch so gentle it felt so tender and reassuring, “You gave me a life to live. And I want to spend the rest of my time loving you.”
You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts amidst the chaotic feelings swirling inside you. Sebastian's proposal was unexpected, but you know it felt right. There was something about his sincerity that was hard to deny.
"Do you really mean it?" You whispered.
"Yes." He brushed a loose strand of hair from your face, his hand lingering by your cheek. "I mean it with all my heart. I want to marry you."
A smile painted across your face, your lips curling into a wide grin. Without any inhibitions, you pulled him into a kiss, expressing your love and acceptance through the tender gesture. The passion ignited once again.
You lost yourself in the intimacy of the moment, wrapped in Sebastian's firm grasp, letting your mind and body surrender to the joy.
Sebastian quickly pulled away, eyes flickered with anticipation when he realised you hadn’t really given your answer, “Wait, is that a yes?”
A playful glint danced in your eyes as you nodded, a grin spreading across your face. “Of course, it’s a yes.”
Sebastian's face lit up with a radiant smile, relief washing over him as leaned in to resume the kiss.
Because time is like a relentless river that will eventually run its course. Yet, amidst the uncertainty of what lay ahead, you found solace in the knowledge that new beginnings awaited. And you can’t wait to start your new journey with Sebastian.
#hogwarts legacy fanfic#hogwarts legacy mc#sebastian sallow fic#sebastian sallow#ominis gaunt#hogwarts legacy fandom#sebastian sallow fanfiction#sebastian sallow x mc#sebastian sallow smut#sebastian sallow x reader
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Pinprick (A Gutterballs Story)
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Jo!Reader
Summary: You're sitting down to listen to one of your favorite podcasts when you hear your name as one of a long line of Eddie's loves, and you have a moment of reflection.
Note: This is a very very very late post in dedication to one of my fandom loves @dr-aculaaa (who is very much on hiatus but still deserves all of the love us resident weirdos have to give) and not only one of my favorite fics Sunday Morning but the offshoot she made for Valentine's Day: Gutterballs.
IT STARTS OUT SWEET BUT ITS A LITTLE ANGSTY AT THE END. SORRY DRAC. WE SORT OF TALKED ABOUT THIS. THE TIMELINE.
You can find my masterlist here.
Please do not interact if you are not 18+.
Enjoy!
---
You're sitting on the floor.
To be completely honest, you shouldn't be on the floor. You knew that, your doctor knew that, your team knew that. In fact, they yelled at you when you got down there, legs akimbo in a way that was comfortable for you to sit in but uncomfortable for them to look at, so you could start ripping the sleeves off of this fucking jacket.
You're alone in the studio now, hours after everyone left.
It's just you, a bottle of Tums, your favorite fucking jacket, and the dulcet tones of the man who gave it to you coming from your phone.
“Welcome back to another episode of Gutterballs! My name is Eddie Munson..."
As if he had to introduce himself.
"Nerd," you scoffed fondly.
It's your Wednesday night ritual. Well, not the jacket or the floor or the tums...Gutterballs. At the least, you owed it to your former client; at the most, you owed it to your ex.
And Eddie Munson was both of those things.
Although "ex" is a relative term.
An ex wouldn't still send you a gift basket full of goodies every award season when you barely took care of yourself, the way Eddie did for you.
An ex wouldn't shoot an email with wardrobe recommendations when they hear about some charity concert or something, like you did for Eddie and Corroded Coffin.
Still telling me what to wear Jo?
He would email back almost immediately.
Doesn't seem like anyone else is. I saw you at Lolla Ed. Not cute.
Would be your response.
You don't think I'm cute anymore?
That would go unanswered though.
Until next time.
Because you were exes.
But an ex didn't keep the jacket their ex got them because it was their favorite. Exes didn't take apart said favorite jacket because it got a rip in the sleeve, and then plan to just cut two new sleeves for it. Nor did they spend the last 20-ish years mending the jacket that their ex-slash-former-client got them as an apology for a spontaneous kiss before a red carpet.
---
The CFCA awards ceremony wasn't the band's usual haunt but they had composing credits for a film score that was up for nomination. It was a big deal. Something that would take them to a new caliber of their career; not just rowdy rockstars, but well-rounded musicians.
So of course, they were running late.
Their suits all needed a bit of alteration, Eddie was chattering nervously as you hemmed his pants, Gareth drummed a beat on his leg with two of the hangers from your roll rack and Phil, the band's manager, yelling for you all to get a move on.
"Do you want them to look good or not!" You yelled right back. "I'm not having them go up for their award looking like shit Phil!"
"Yeah remember the Grammy's," Jeff pointed out. "That's why you got us a stylist in the first place."
"You'd have thought you paid them to be here or something," Phil grumbled at you from across the room.
"I do pay," you shot up at Eddie with a conspiratorial smile. "With my sanity."
This was your schtick. He let you dress him in whatever dark-romantic victorian-gothic-inspired outfits your former-Catholic heart could dream up, and in return you let him be the spieling midwestern boy that he really wasn't allowed to be anywhere else. Because yeah the band was in charge here really--they were the talent, the money--but Eddie didn't like the whole pomp and circumstance of celebrity. Not anymore, according to him at least.
"The drugs are fun until they're not," he told you once. "We're just...guys from Indiana."
So you'd let them be that in the safety of your studio, shithead manager be damned.
You severed the thread with a swift bite of your teeth and wished the guys good luck with hugs before sending them on their way.
But Eddie...Eddie chose that moment to kiss you.
Well, you kissed each other.
As everyone walked out of the studio to get down to the car, you kissed each other.
And you froze.
Both of you.
Because it was a romantic, world-ending kiss. A kiss of declaration. A kiss of familiarity. The kiss you gave someone when you loved them for a long time and didn't know how to tell them.
Only...you hadn't loved each other for a long time.
Had you?
Hadn't said anything of the sort at least.
That wasn't love...was it?
He left for the awards ceremony and you absolutely spiraled questioning it all. You thought about all the long walks down State Street discussing ideas for this event and that one. The way he got you a membership to the Art Institute so you could sit in front of Salome and Hercules for hours and be inspired. The nights that he just couldn't work on lyrics anymore, so he would come over to sit in absolute silence save for the droning sound of your sewing machine.
The aches of the world were just a little bit easier when you could be near each other, whether it was being inspired or talking shit or sinking further into oblivion.
Was that love?
Eddie must have spiraled too. Because he showed up at your studio past midnight, disheveled and with a green Marshall Field's bag in his hand. A bag containing, you'd find out later, a black wool and leather coat that sat in a window that you'd noted looked nice months ago. One he made the guys make a special stop for before the award ceremony so he could get you to make up for fucking up your professional relationship.
The apologies were stuck on the tips of your tongues though.
And there was a beat before some silent decision was made.
And your lips came back together again, solidifying that decision, even though the words weren't said.
---
“Today on Gutterballs,” Mrs. H’s announces on the phone, breaking you from your reflection, “our lovely listeners at home are in for a real treat. As we record and discuss topics such as first loves, lost loves, and, as you can see, from our current location -body modifications."
“First we have… A spool and thread for Jo."
"She used to poke my ankles like a voodoo doll when she hemmed my pants. I still have the scars, if you wanna check ‘em out. I think that was her way of saying I love you."
Yeah that was the way it was with the two of you.
All the ways you said I love you without the words being said.
And they would never be said.
But that was another story.
"Yeah," you agree with Mrs. H belatedly, seam ripper making quick work of a line of stitches. "Lost love sounds better than ex."
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You know what idea has always ENCHANTED ME?
Ever since I saw it on a sci-fi show?
The Deadly Magical House That Loves You™. See, it's a house that has become something MORE. Gained sentience. And? Instead of acting out some cheap horror movie jump scares? It digs deep to its foundations, thinks long n hard, and decides on what it WANTS.
And it WANTS?
To be a HOME™.
To TAKE CARE OF somebody. Have LIFE in its halls. Meals at its tables. Joy and laughter bouncing across its walls. So? It lays a trap. Lures people in.
Come live in me~
I am a good home.
I am Free! I am "Safe". I will give you whatever your heart desires.
I care not for morality or laws. Boundaries or taboos. Do you desire? Come, come, be HAPPY~! Live in me! Relax here! Forget about the world beyond these walls. Anything I can not give you, I can bring TOO you! This is a Happy Home.
But, of course, such sentience and pushiness terrifies. People run and flee in horror. The house getting more aggressive. Trying to hold tighter. After all! If they would just STAY for a while, they would SEE! It's so LOVELY here! The would LOVE to live inside them!
But... instead?
They are hurt.
Doors smashed open. Windows broken to escape. Furniture thrown. Their avatar, Jeeves, bashed with heavy things. Why... WHY?! They are only trying to HELP! To LOVE them! Be a good HOME! They grow more and more run down. Starved. Wrathful.
It is, of course, their Obsession. To be a home. They are so very hungry.
When? Who should come along?
But the depressed AF Ghost King! He's been... not TECHNICALLY kicked out. But "things are tense" kicked out. He's tired. His college courses are remote. He can't really AFFORD rent. And everything is just...
He's TIRED.
He wants to cry.
Why... why can't he have ONE good thing? ONE sign everything's gonna be alright?
"Free House!"
Well... I mean... that IS a literal sign. Huh. He flies down. The house notices him. Tries to look as enticing as it can. And? Gasp! I... It's WORKING? This one seems INTERESTED? Quick! Flowerbeds! Look at my flowerbeds! Ooooh, lovely floooowers! A.. and there's probably really nice wood flooring! C'mon. C'moooon!
Danny? Sees a free Lair. Not too far from both Gotham AND Metropolis. Good location. Needs a little fixing up. But I mean... you can't beat free, right?
Is he really gonna do this?
......fuck it. Yeah, let's do this. First house time. He's just glad he carries a sharpie on him most of the time. Scribbles "Sold!" Over the sign then calls Jazz. He's... kinda not sure WHAT he's supposed to pack?
Finds out, post move in, whoop. Sentient Lair. Clingy, clingy, highly desperate sentient Lair. Oof. Guess fixing up the place can be therapy for both of us. Jazz helps.
The house heals. He falls into a routine. Schoolwork, hang out in the garden or the observatory, meals FaceTiming friends or watching videos, naps whenever he wants them. It's... it's so peaceful. Quiet and soothing to his agitated and worn down soul. Like a balm.
House gets him whatever he needs. They're kinda awesome like that. Always seems to have room to fit this or that. He doesn't question it. His brain figuring it works on Zone logic.
He probably SHOULD have.
Because? Things have been going missing. At a slow, steady, pace. Food, technology, entertainment. A building that shouldn't BE there, has been spotted in a wealthy county just outside of Superman and Batman's two cities.
No one can get near it.
It's been getting BIGGER.
Growing, like a tumor, room by room. Floor by floor. The gardens creeping like kudzu, to swallow everything in their path. Yet delivery drivers drop things off. Things they don't remember. On trips they don't recall. People are scared.
Amateur detectives have managed to discover some sort of starlit fae that lives there, along with a human boy.
Justice League Dark has been called in. Are currently standing just outside the slowly creeping property line. A garden statue just hissed at them. The trees are trying to throw acorns. A hushed argument has already broken out. How do they contain the house?
@the-witchhunter @nerdpoe @hypewinter @hdgnj @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @spidori @lolottes
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more nerdy abby please
nerdy!gf!abby headcanons
└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘
a/n; well, yes! how could i say no to that? <3
pairing; dom!abby anderson x sub!fem!reader
warnings; use of princess/angel/baby, abby coaxes reader on her period, implied strap-on, praise and a little degrading, cunnilingus, fingering, implied brat x brat!tamer dynamics (?), scissoring
P.S.; please look at the below links to learn of ways that you can help the people in gaza, and how you can learn more about this ongoing issue overall. please don’t stay in the dark about this: like each post, reblog them, etc. if you like my work, then i am asking you to take the side that i’m on. i will be linking all of these resources in each post from now on. free 🇵🇸
LINKS: ways you can help | 🇵🇸 masterpost | MORE ways you can help | places to boycott, and families you can help escape | learn more
└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘
♡ fluff
♡ nerdy!gf!abby who is a biology major, planning to work as a doctor, and she freaks out whenever you get hurt. it could be the smallest of bruises and she’s there with bandages, wrapping you up, cleaning your skin, or whatever the case may be. there are times where she’ll scold you like a parent for being reckless, rattling off each and every fact she knows about the “delicacy of the human body,” as she calls it. “it’s like you do it on purpose, princess,” she grumbles, but you know deep down that she’s never really mad at you.
♡ nerdy!gf!abby who not only cares for you when you’ve got a cut or bruise, but also when you’re sick or on your period. it’s one of the only times she’ll drop all of her work, but then again, you’re the only person she’d ever drop her work for. if you have bad cramps, she’ll come to your dorm and cuddle with you, ensuring that you’ve taken medicine and are using a heating pad to assist with your cramps. she’ll spoon you from behind as she rubs your abdomen—where they usually are—whispering sweet things to you as you squirm in discomfort. “it’s okay, angel. it’ll pass. you’re okay.”
♡ nerdy!gf!abby who does her homework while cuddled up in bed with you. it’s amazing how she can do it, papers in her hands as you lay across her lap, or are cuddled up into her side. she’s managed to find a good balance in doing the work she’s meant to be doing while also ensuring that she isn’t ignoring you. you’ve fallen asleep numerous times to abby playing with your hair, and the sound of her scribbling away on her papers as she does so.
♡ nerdy!gf!abby who messages you during the day, a lot, just to check in on you on a regular basis. it’ll be small things, but it makes you feel cared for in every sense of the word. “did you eat today, princess?” “how was class, angel?” “feeling okay?” and if not: “do you want to come by my dorm? we can talk.” and, every single day, she will message you this one: “i love you.”
♡ nerdy!gf!abby who worships you like a goddess. she tells you how gorgeous you are on a daily basis, making sure you know how much she sees you for who you are. she loves every inch of you: your face, your eyes, your lips, hips, thighs, all of it. there’s not a thing in this world she doesn’t love on your body. “prettiest girl in the world,” she’ll say, and, if you’re feeling insecure, “what do you mean? you’re a real life princess, angel.” she’ll let you know just how mesmerizing she thinks you are with no shame.
✮ smut (18+)
✮ nerdy!gf!abby who loves to look you in the eye while she fucks you, but prefers to take you from the back. she’s obsessed with the way you whine and moan her name when she pulls your hair, not too hard, while she pounds into you from behind. “that’s it, princess. know you love when i fuck you like this, don’t you?”
✮ nerdy!gf!abby who praises you a lot, no matter if she’s behind you, on top of you, below you, it doesn’t really matter. she’ll tell you how much of a good girl you are, how well you’re receiving. “there you go, angel. you’ve got it,” she’ll coo, along with, “good/pretty baby. you look gorgeous like this.” her ways of worshiping you will never not come into the bedroom. “you take me so well, angel,” is also one you hear very much.
✮ nerdy!gf!abby who is a giving girl at heart. if there’s one thing she’ll spend the rest of her life doing, it’s eating you out, just to see that look of pure bliss on your face when she does it. she’ll kiss and bite up your thighs before she begins, leaving hickeys on your skin. then, she attacks your cunt in an almost ferocious passion, devouring your pussy like she’s running out of time to do so. she always feels herself get wet when she’s got you arching your back off the bed, whimpering prayers, and whispers of abby’s name. her glasses fog up during it all, and are always covered in your arousal and release by the time she’s done, but she never cared at all for that. she’s skilled in what she does, using her fingers to curl inside your g-spot while her lips attack your clit, easily getting an orgasm out of you each and every time.
✮ nerdy!gf!abby who isn’t big on degrading unless she’s praising you and degrading you in the same sentence. “my pretty little slut,” “you’re my good whore, aren’t you,” and “you’re my whore, d’you hear me? mine.” she doesn’t like to degrade you because she genuinely feels you’re too precious for that, her baby. so, she only does it like this, and the reason she does it at all is because you’ve told her that you like it. however, she can get just a little mean if you’re being a brat to her. “don’t give me that attitude, princess,” “you’re too pretty to be a brat,” and, “don’t test me, baby.”
✮ nerdy!gf!abby who loves scissoring with you when you’re on top of her. the way you rub your soaked pussy onto hers, grinding your hips on her lower body like the needy girl you are. she loves to watch you fuck yourself as her own climax builds inside of her, and it feels nice to not have to do the work for once. she can get a little whiny herself when she feels your clit rub onto hers, grabbing your hips as she moans loudly. “f- fuck, baby, that feels so good. keep going. don’t stop,” and, “you like this? you like riding me, hm?” she also firmly believes that your bodies were made to fit like this from the beginning, and she always tells you that during it all. “my cute girl. you’re just for me. no one else makes me feel this good,” and “made just for me, princess? yeah, i know you were.”
└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘
reblogs are very much welcomed <3
———
#abby anderson#abby anderson x reader#the last of us smut#tlou2 smut#abby anderson smut#abby anderson fan fiction#abby anderson the last of us 2#abby anderson x female reader#abby anderson x y/n#abby anderson x you#tlou abby x reader#abby tlou#abby anderson fic#abby anderson headcanons#tlou abby
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· pairings; husband!jungkook, dilf!jungkook, fem!reader
· genre; (m) smut, fluff
warnings; vulgar language, oral sex (f), fingering, moaning... think that’s all..?
note; i took a mini break from posting, sorry!
side note; ignore grammar issues, forgive me ^^;
© jeonzvi. do not copy, translate or repost my work.
Feeling a pair of arms wrap around your waist, you quickly turn around, only to be met with Jungkook’s proud grin. “Jeon, for fucks sake!” You complain, placing a hand over your heart with a pant.
Your husband laughs, placing a wet kiss on your throat, and gently squeezing your body closer to his. “Sorry mama, didn’t mean t’scare you like that,” he apologizes in a sweet yet sarcastic tone, making you roll your eyes at the half-assed apology.
Although, he places a wet kiss on the side of your neck, easing your annoyance towards him. “Whatever,” you mumble, narrowing your eyes at him. Chuckling, he shifts his hands, one on the back of your head and the other against your lower back.
“Where’s Yuri?” He asks.
“In her room, taking a nap,” you reply to which Jungkook gives you a smuggish smirk. It has you deadpanning, staring at him with a sigh. “What do you want, Jungkook?” You query.
Watching his features fall and lips form into a pout, he lowers his voice so it’s quiet⎯pleading. “Jus’ wanted some pussy,” he murmurs out his answer, giving you his puppy-dog eyes.
How could a man, that’s not damn near innocent, say such a thing yet sound so fucking pure?
“Jeongguk!” You gasp as he lifts you up, sitting you against the island counter behind you, your thighs squeezing together at the coldness against your skin. “What? We have time, baby. Relax,” he drawls with a sleazy grin.
Truthfully, he’s right. Yuri’s only been napping for 10 minutes.
Jungkook slides your flimsy shorts down with your thin, white lace panties, letting them fall onto the wooden tiles. He drops to his knees; his large hands resting on your thighs.
Rolling his eyes as you try closing your legs, he gently forces them open once more. “Hey, don’t be shy now. Calm down,” he grumbles. “I’m cold!” You quietly scold.
“I’ll warm you up,” he promises, looking at your eyes with a pretty twinkle.
Jungkook brings his lips towards your pussy, planting a tender kiss on your clit, his lip piercings brushing against your throbbing mound. “So wet, mama,” he lets out a breathy chuckle, bringing his hand towards your clit and using his thumb to add stimulation.
“All for me?”
Weakly, you nod. “Mhm,” you hum at the stupid question, head tilting back as he rubs your clitoris in small circles. Your husband slides his fingers towards your hole, connecting his mouth with the sweetness of your pussy.
Tonguing your glistening folds, he inserts a single digit, letting out a muffled groan as you clench around him, licking a long strip with a drunken smile.
Your thighs shake, yet Jungkook holds them down which doesn’t let you move. “Jeon,” you murmur, a moan blending with your soft call.
Sliding your fingers through his soft, dark strands, you tug on them as he begins to flick the tip his tongue repeatedly, pumping in two fingers. Your pussy makes obscene noises, the sounds only making you inch closer to your climax. “O-oh, fuck!” You gasp.
Even when you cum, your husband still works in between your thighs, making sure to get every last drop of your liquids. At the strong yet still pleasurable overstimulation, you squirm against the cold counter.
“Such a good girl, hm?” He laughs, detaching his mouth from you.
“Shush, it’s not my fault you’re obsessed with my—” Oh, God.
Whining and whimpers come from Yuri’s room, hearing her call for you and Jungkook. She hiccups, “Mama! Dada! Yuri’s ‘wake now!”
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pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader
summary: wanda maximoff, your domme and girlfriend, tests you with impossible rules, and subsequently punishes you for failing to follow them.
content warnings: obvi smut, restraints, impact play, edging, cunnilingus.
word count: 4k+
masterlist
original request
comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡
My Good Girl
The afternoon sun cast warm hues through the floor-to-ceiling window, illuminating the cozy office and casting soft shadows across the floor. Wanda sat at her desk, fingers absentmindedly tapping on the dark wood. Lines of text filled her screen, yet her mind was elsewhere.
With a soft hum of contemplation, Wanda closed the laptop, a soft click breaking through the peaceful silence of the room.
‘I want to try something new tonight.’
The text is sent with a soft sound, and Wanda traces her phone slowly as she waits for you to read the message. Her mind is thrown back to the plethora of information she’d spent the better half of the afternoon consuming.
Agatha, one of her closest friends, and a well-known domme, had sent her a few websites to check out. Wanda had let it slip during one of their wine nights that although she was happy with you and the dom/sub relationship you’d built, she wanted to try something more.
You were perfect. Truly. Submissive, and willing to do whatever she said. Wanda loved the thrill she got whenever you obeyed an order.
But you were almost too perfect.
One of the sites she’d pursued was full of dominants sharing the ways they put a bratty sub in their place. Wanda had found herself growing wetter with each post she scrolled through. Her mind had found itself wandering over to you.
You, tears welling up as she choked you with her strap. You, pulling uselessly on scarlet ribbon restraints as she teased you for hours. You, with your face scrunched up as she twisted and pulled on your nipples until you begged her for mercy.
The word mommy, slipping from your lips as you blushed.
Wanda had to take several breaks throughout her afternoon, her fingers slipping below her waistband and sliding over the slick arousal coating her panties. She’d thought of you while rubbing herself to a climax, imagining your wide eyes as you knelt before her…
Fuck. She was getting worked up again.
Her phone dinged, and Wanda had to physically shake herself while she scrambled for her phone. Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the phone, seeing your message.
‘Of course we can! What did you have in mind?’
You were so eager to please, so willing to succumb to anything Wanda asked of you. She took a few deep breaths, typing out her response with one hand while quickly packing her bag.
‘When I get home, I want you naked and kneeling by the door. You will address me as ma’am, nothing else. Understood?’
Wanda could feel herself slipping into her dominant headspace, the thrill of giving orders rushing through her.
‘And if I break one of those rules?’
Oh, it was almost too easy.
‘I’ll have to punish you, darling. I’m on my way home. Remember my instructions.’
Slipping her phone into her pocket, Wanda cast one last look around her office before turning out the light. Locking up, she strode quickly down the hall, thankfully not seeing any other employees around.
The car ride home was agonizing, the heat between her legs growing into an unbearable inferno. Wanda couldn’t help but squeeze her thighs together at the thought of you breaking her rules.
And she knew just the thing to distract you and cause you to slip up.
At a stoplight just outside the city, about five minutes from your shared home, Wanda pulled out her phone. Knowing the light would take a while to turn green, she pulled up the locked photo album hidden in her files. Selecting a photo, she quickly sent it to you with no caption.
The photo was a selfie, the phone propped up against her work computer. Wanda had popped a few too many buttons, the lace of her red bra peeking out from underneath her silk shirt and jacket. Her eyes were locked on the camera, iridescent and smoldering, while the fingers of one hand were wrapped tightly around her tie, pulling it away from her neck. The other hand was resting on her belt, a single finger slipping beneath the waistband of her dress pants.
Wanda let her imagination run wild, imagining the flush creeping up your neck and coloring your face. Your breath would catch, pupils dilating as arousal shot through you. By the time you positioned yourself at the door, your juices would be smeared all over your delicate inner thighs, your eyes pleading and desperate.
The light turned green, and Wanda refocused. Only a few minutes until she'd be home.
The anticipation was killing her.
—
Wanda forced herself to slow her gait, walking leisurely up the steps to the front door. Her heels clicked on the pavement and she hoped that you could hear her approaching.
The door clicked open, the key sliding easily into the lock.
Green eyes found you easily, a pleased smile stretching across those beautiful lips as Wanda observed your kneeling form. Your eyes were just as wide as she’d hoped, your irises disappearing as your pupils dilated further at the sight of her.
“Hello, darling.”
Wanda made sure to pitch her voice low, a sultry tone making its way through her words. Her gaze pierced yours, a silent demand hidden within them.
“Good afternoon, ma’am.” Your voice shook, and you sucked in a shaky breath.
Your hands were placed atop your thighs, palms flat as you subtly parted your thighs. Wanda caught a glimpse of the shiny arousal coating your inner thighs, and she breathed deeply, hoping your scent would envelop her.
“How was your day, sweetheart?” Wanda asked, setting her bag down and slipping her jacket off her shoulders. She hung it up, flicking her fingers in silent order for you to follow.
“It was good, um, ma’am.” You stuttered, crawling after her as she made her way towards the living room.
Seating herself on the couch, Wanda crossed one leg elegantly over the other. You crawled up to her, eyes glancing between her lips and legs. You sat up, posture straight and palms flat, with your fingers thrumming nervously on your thighs.
“And what did my good girl do today?” Wanda smirked at you.
“Oh, I uh…” Your eyes grew distant as you tried to force yourself to focus. “I worked a little bit, and then I made some meal prep for the week, ma’am.”
Wanda raised an eyebrow, “Anything else?”
You wracked your brain, trying to remember what you’d done that day. The only thing running through your mind was the insatiable picture Wanda had sent you. Your mind focused on the captivating curve of her breasts, the smoldering look in her eyes, similar to the one she was giving you now.
“Oh!” You remembered something, excitement weaving its way through your words. “I made you something!”
Wanda paused for a moment, seemingly waiting for something, but you were looking up at her with wide eyes and a satisfied grin.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” You could sense the satisfaction in Wanda’s voice, and faltered.
“Ma’am.” You blurted out, but Wanda was already shaking her head.
“Too late, darling.”
You paled slightly, but Wanda could see the excitement glowing in your eyes. You were curious, anticipation thrumming through you. The flush on your face was slowly growing darker, the tips of your ears burning as the weight of Wanda’s gaze settled on you.
“Bedroom, now. You know what position I like you in.”
A punishment. That’s what you were receiving. You hadn’t had one of those in a long time, not since the beginning of your relationship with Wanda.
“Yes ma’am.” Your voice was quiet, and you stood, watching Wanda for any sign of disapproval. When she gave none, you turned and headed toward the bedroom, aware of her gaze burning on your hips.
Approaching the bed, you let your hand caress the soft silk of the comforter. Kneeling on top of the mattress, you take a steadying breath, listening for the click of Wanda’s heels.
You don’t have to wait for long. The slow, measured steps of Wanda’s confident gait reach your ears, and you subconsciously straighten your back. Ensuring that your gaze is locked on your hands, you resist the urge to look up when the soft light from the hallway hits your eyes as Wanda enters the room.
“Such a good girl.” Wanda’s voice is soft, and you feel some of your arousal leak out and drip down your thighs.
You don’t speak, knowing that Wanda likes to command every part of you, including your words. Instead, you offer a small smile, eyes locked on her form as she walks toward the closet. She disappears inside, throwing a smile over her shoulder.
A whimper threatens to escape you, but you choke it down. If Wanda heard one errant sound from you, she’d surely increase your punishment. That’s the last thing you want, so you simply resist the urge to shift on the bed and wait.
The minutes stretch on, and you mentally curse your girlfriend out. You knew she was doing this on purpose, building up the anticipation. You want to call out, but your words get stuck in your throat, not wanting to add to your punishment.
So you wait, your arousal building with each minute until the sheets below you are damp.
You hear the door open, the heady presence of Wanda Maximoff filling the room. The sheer dominance that she emanates washes over you, loosening your muscles as your head grows fuzzier.
You can trust her. Wanda only wants what’s best for you.
“You’re doing so well for me, love,” Wanda says, moving onto the bed and kneeling before you. She’s still fully clothed, her buttoned shirt brushing against your skin in a tantalizing dance as she sets a few items beside her. You don’t dare look, keeping your eyes trained on your hands until she commands you otherwise.
“Look at me.”
Green eyes seem slightly softer in the dim light, and you search them for any clue of what the night entails.
“Tell me why I’m punishing you,” The words jumpstart your brain, and you begin speaking as Wanda picks up a silky, scarlet ribbon.
“I forgot one of your rules, I’m sorry, mo…” The word almost slips from your lips, but you clench them shut.
Wanda raises an eyebrow at you, almost daring you to continue. You remain silent, still not ready to use the title you want. Your mind wars with itself, the waves of indecision subsiding when Wanda gently smiles at you and brushes her fingers lightly against your cheek.
Her eyes are soft, and you know that she won’t press the topic. Not until you’re ready.
“And which rule was that?”
“I forgot to call you ma’am, I’m sorry,” You say, your voice earnest.
At your practically whimpered words, Wanda has already forgiven you. However, the thought of punishing you is far too tantalizing, so she picks up one of the silk ribbons.
“And you know what this is, correct?”
“Yes ma’am,” You won’t be forgetting her title anytime soon, and Wanda feels pride shoot through her at your steadfast obedience. She gently pushes you backwards, until you realize what she’s doing.
Positioning yourself on your back, you stretch your arms out toward the headboard, enjoying the feel of the scarlet ribbon around your wrist as Wanda begins to restrain you. Your clit pulses when she tightens the ribbon securely, and you fight the urge to roll your hips.
Quickly fastening your other wrist to the headboard, Wanda waits for you to test the strength. She smirks while you writhe beneath her, attempting to escape. You squirm, your hips restrained by her thighs as she sits atop you, her fingernails scraping lightly down your sides before you give up.
“Thank you, ma’am.” You say, and Wanda’s eyes light up in pleasure.
In one smooth movement, she flips you over, her fingers digging into your hips as she roughly positions you on your stomach. Your wrists cross over each other at the change of position, her hands pulling your body down until you can barely move an inch.
A hand on the back of your head shoves your face into a soft pillow, and you turn your cheek slightly to be able to breathe. Wanda doesn't seem to notice, her attention focused on the item she now holds in her hand.
You catch a glimpse of the paddle and whine. It’s been a while since she’s used that toy on you, and you vividly remember the last experience. You hadn’t been able to sit down for three days.
“Remember your colors, sweetheart.” Wanda reminds you, and you nod into the pillow as her hand gently squeezes the flesh of your ass.
The first strike takes you by surprise, and your body jolts, attempting to escape the sharp sting. You hear Wanda chuckling above you and can practically feel her eyes appraising the bright red mark that the paddle left. Before you’ve recovered from the first hit, the paddle swings down again, pain and pleasure mixing as she strategically places marks across your whole backside.
When the paddle hits the sensitive skin of your upper thigh, you let out a yelp.
“Darling?” Wanda asks. You can’t formulate a response and your breaths are heavy and fast. You tug at the restraints, a soft green tumbling past your lips.
The hits are quick and hard, pain radiating through you even as your clit throbs. You can feel your juices dripping down your thighs and soaking the sheet beneath you. The humiliation of the situation only turns you on more, and it’s not long before you’re moaning softly into the pillow.
A heavy sigh makes its way through you when Wanda pauses, setting the paddle down beside you. “Color,” She demands, her hands cool against your abused flesh.
“Green, thank… thank you,” Your words are breathy, stuttering when Wanda’s fingers graze your slit.
A single finger circles your clit, and you can’t help but push your ass upwards, trying to appease the tension between your legs.
“Oh,” Wanda says, her voice full of mirth. “It seems like you want more, love.”
Nodding frantically, you roll your hips forward.
A sharp pain makes its way through you, Wanda’s hand coming down quickly against your sensitive backside. You let out a half moan, half yelp at the action.
“Don’t rut against the bed like a pathetic mutt,” She practically growls, bringing her hand down sharply a few more times. “You’re practically begging for a punishment.”
You want to complain, you want to whine about the injustice of it all. Instead, you remain quiet, not wanting to risk more pain. You can feel Wanda shifting, and bite your lip when the cool leather of the paddle drags across your overheated backside.
“Do you want more?” Wanda asks, and you can’t do anything but nod. You turn your head, peeking at her from the corner of your eye. Her green eyes are locked on the swell of your ass, and you shudder at the hungry look in them.
“Beg for it.”
The paddle presses against your clit, the pressure sending pleasure coursing through you. Resisting the urge to grind against it, you grit your teeth and speak. “Please, ma’am. I want you to hit me. Punish me, please, I’ve been a bad girl.”
Wanda doesn’t respond, instead raising the paddle and delivering more blows to your aching backside.
You begin to moan, the pain morphing into a sick sort of pleasure. With each blow, your clit is pressed against the mattress, your orgasm approaching rapidly. You know better than to beg, you’d learned long ago that Wanda liked to control every aspect of your pleasure, including when you were allowed to cum.
“Are you close?” Wanda asks, not giving you a chance to respond before she continues to speak, “I can see you dripping onto the sheets, your hips rutting pathetically of their own will. Do you want to cum, baby? Do you want to cum while mommy hits you with the paddle?”
The words worm their way into your mind, twisting your thoughts while pleasure and pain consume your being. Her hits don’t cease, the leather paddle slapping against you over and over again.
The pillow is damp beneath your cheek. You hadn’t realized that you’d begun to cry, and a whine escaped your mouth without your permission. It only spurs Wanda on.
“Oh, you like this, don’t you darling? You like being mommy’s little fucktoy, taking whatever I give you. Say it.”
You barely register her words, something incoherent spewing from your mouth as she delivers the harshest blows of the night. One of Wanda’s hands tangles with your hair, wrenching your head up from the pillow.
“Say it.” Her voice is deadly, low, and raspy. You don’t dare disobey.
“I like it, I like it when you treat me like this. Please don’t stop. Please, fuck.” You cut yourself off, feeling Wanda swing the paddle harshly at the curse word.
“Mommy, please.”
Relief. Your brain starts to work again. The pain radiating from your backside subsides slightly as Wanda drops the paddle to the floor. You feel as though you should be embarrassed, but don’t.
Truth be told, you’ve wanted to call Wanda by that title for a while, and at this moment, it just felt right.
“Say that again for me, darling.”
You feel your body being manhandled again, your hips twisting until you’re on your back again. Green eyes stare down at you, a slightly dazed look in them. Wanda’s fingers trace patterns on your ribcage, moving up to tease your nipples while she waits.
“Mommy,” Your voice is quiet, almost shy, but the word is genuine. “Please let me cum.”
Wanda can’t bring herself to punish you any longer. Not after you’ve finally used the title she’s been yearning for. She finds herself suddenly incapable of speaking, the words catching in her throat.
Surging forward, Wanda presses her impossibly soft lips to yours. Her tongue dances against yours, tracing your lips and drawing soft moans from you. You fight the urge to roll your hips, her thigh pressed perfectly against your center.
Her tongue explores your mouth for what seems like forever, and you find yourself growing wetter with each minute. You can’t complain, though. Kissing Wanda will always be something you treasure.
Eventually, the need for air becomes too great, and Wanda pulls back. Her eyes search yours, a smile slowly stretching across her face.
“Good girl,” She coos, a hand reaching up and cupping your cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart,”
You grin, sure that your eyes are sparkling as you gaze up at her. From this angle, she looks almost angelic, with her hair falling around you. You don’t mind, if you could choose anything to worship, Wanda would be the first and only thing on your list.
“I’m going to make you feel really good now, okay?” She says, not giving you a chance to respond before she’s descending your body. She leaves open-mouthed kisses on your skin, enjoying the way you jolt beneath her whenever she nips you with her teeth.
The bruises she leaves behind fill her with pride and a hint of possessiveness, and she gazes up at you when her mouth finally reaches the glistening heat between your thighs.
“Please,” You whisper, throwing your head back when her tongue applies gentle pressure against your clit.
It’s practically torture, her skilled mouth alternating between sucking and licking your clit as your orgasm approaches quickly. You want to reach down and tangle your fingers with her hair, pulling her flush against you, and tug uselessly at your restraints.
Your hips twitch violently, a sign that you’re close to an orgasm. A few… more… strokes of that talented tongue…
Wanda pulls away, and you whine loudly. Her fingers twist your nipple harshly in response, and you mumble a quick apology.
“None of that,” Wanda reprimands, “you take whatever I give you, remember?”
She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, burying her head between your thighs before you can fully catch your breath. This time, she sucks your clit violently, red-hot bolts of pleasure shooting through you as your thighs tense.
Her mouth disappears.
Giving you a few moments to recover, Wanda watches the realization enter your eyes. You mumble, “You’re going to edge me, aren’t you?”
Chuckling, Wanda circles your clit with a single finger. She watches your eyes gloss over as your hips twitch. Pressing harder, she moves rhythmically over the hard nub, enjoying the moans reverberating around the room. You tense up, lips parting as your orgasm draws near…
“Only good girls get to cum, darling,” Wanda pulls her fingers fully away from you.
You want to scream. You want to curse her out, you want to escape your restraints and hump her thigh until you cum. You want to…
A moan claws its way out from your chest, and Wanda takes that as a sign to continue.
You don’t know how long she edges you, the only thing you’re aware of is the growing arousal between your thighs and the pleasure that builds and builds and dissipates whenever Wanda senses that you’re close.
After a while, the fuzziness takes over your mind, and you lose count of the edges as Wanda’s tongue relentlessly works against your core. She keeps her fingers locked around your thighs, refusing to give your pussy any sort of real satisfaction.
Practically crazed with arousal and desperation, you attempt to roll your hips against Wanda’s lips.
“Do you want me to bring the paddle out again?” Wanda raises a single eyebrow, her hand raising and striking your swollen pussy. The sting shoots through your clit, and you jerk your hips as you recoil from the pain.
“No, I’m sorry mommy. Please…” You moan as Wanda’s warm mouth encircles your clit. “Please forgive me.”
Time blends with the countless edges, and you find yourself lost in a pleasurable vanilla haze. The only thing you’re aware of is Wanda. Her tongue, building you up. Her eyes, watching you as her fingers hold your thighs and hips against the mattress. Her scent, an addicting drug that you never want to abstain from.
Your orgasm, just barely out of reach. Wanda, bringing you closer and closer and…
—
You open your eyes, your vision seeming sharper than before. Warm water surrounds you, suds covering your chest as a warm washcloth gently rubs against your collarbone.
“Mommy?”
Wanda moves into your field of vision, her eyes filled with concern. You smile widely, relaxing further into the water. You want to reach up and pull her face closer, yearning to feel her lips against yours, but your limbs don’t seem to work properly.
“Hi, sweetheart. You scared me,” Wanda’s voice is soft, and you can sense the worry underneath her accent.
“I’m alright, I promise,” You reassure her, resting your head against the side of the tub. “But…” Trailing off, you watch Wanda’s brows furrow in concern.
“I still really want to cum.”
Wanda scoffs, splashing you lightly as you laugh. Allowing yourself to fully relax, you let her wash away your sweat, her hands gentle as she scrubs the dried arousal off your thighs.
“You don’t get to cum tonight, I'm punishing you.” Wanda sounds like she’s about to whine, and you splash her. The water droplets cling to her hair, and you laugh at her pout, your arms working again as you pull her in by the neck for a kiss.
Her tongue dances languidly alongside yours, and you push down the arousal that attempts to rise. Honestly, you’d get aroused if Wanda simply walked into a room. With her lips on yours, it’s much harder to tamper your desperation for her.
“Maybe tomorrow,” Wanda mumbles against your lips, and you roll your eyes.
Eventually, Wanda ends the impromptu makeout session, finishing the bath and drying you off. She applies some aloe vera to your sore backside, kissing the marks softly as she does so.
You’ve never felt more loved.
Sliding in between fresh, cool sheets, Wanda pulls you flush against her. Your head is comfortably nestled in the crook of her neck, and you can feel her heartbeat against your palm.
Gentle lips kiss the top of your head, and you feel yourself drifting off. Wanda hums, murmuring one final thing before you finally succumb to the waves of drowsiness washing over you.
“Happy Valentine's Day, my love.”
---
Dm or comment to be added!
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#charsgaythoughts#wanda maximoff#mommy wanda#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda x reader#wanda#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff x female reader#wanda maximoff fanfiction#wanda fanfic#wanda maximoff smut#wanda x you#marvel#mcu#wanda marvel#dom!wanda#lesbian#writing#wlw#wlw smut#bottom reader#x reader#wanda mcu
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“i was wondering if i could have your instagram?”
your heart hammered against your chest as the anticipation weighed down on your shoulders as you stood in front of the confused boy in front of you.
“ah… i’ll have to get back to you on that.” iwaizumi replied quietly as your stomach dropped.
“oh… okay then thanks anyway!” you forced a friendly tone out to mask the utter humiliation and upset that had washed over your mood entirely upon the few words the dark haired boy offered.
the rest of the class was a blur to you. you spent majority of the time staring blankly ahead of you to face the backs of forgettable classmates heads. the only classmate that mattered to you in this particular class had rejected you just before the teacher walked in so from this moment on you had no motivation to pay attention or look forward this class.
the end bell rang and you mindlessly threw your belongings into your bag before dragging yourself through the halls to your locker to collect the rest of your belongings and head home. you didn’t even bother to wait for your friends, no. they could wait until you were in the comfort of your own home to hear you scream over the phone how embarrassed you were as a result of the rejection over something as casual as asking to be instagram buddies.
‘what sort of loser gets rejected for that?’ you almost had to laugh it was so stupid. ‘whatever.’ you thought as your feet carried you to the front gates of the school. you’d have to apologise to your friends in advance before blowing up the groupchat with your over dramatic tendencies but a little tlc from your friends was needed at this vital milestone of your life; your first ever rejection.
upon the endless string of thoughts running through your mind as you walked, you failed to pick up on the voice that had been calling after you repeatedly from behind you. you tended up at the feeling of someone gently tugging on your sleeve out of nowhere but that surprise was nothing compared to the surprised you felt upon seeing the culprits gaze.
“iwaizumi?” you asked as your classmate caught his breath. “you on a mission or something?” he huffed a little as you frowned. “yes. a mission to get home, so see ya!” you replied quickly as your pace in walk picked up again.
before you could march off, a hand tugging on the strap of your bag stopped you before you could flee the scene which happened to include the last face on earth you wanted to see right now. “before you run off again,” he started before pulling his phone out his pocket. “my instagram. you said you wanted it?”
you looked at the device in his hands with confusion. zero followers, zero posts, zero following and a cute yet handsome photo of iwaizumi in place of the profile picture icon. “i didn’t have one earlier when you asked, so i made one during that class so you could add me.” he rubbed the back of his neck and looked away from you as you fought the urge to pounce on him and bite him.
‘he’s so fucking cute.’
you tapped your own handle into his phone and followed yourself before grabbing your own phone to immediately follow him back. a weird sense of pride came over you seeing his follower and following go up by one and that one being you.
“you didn’t have to do that.” you insisted as you handed his phone back to him. “nah, i should’ve made one ages ago but i just never got around to it.” he admitted, the heat on his face finally calming down. “but now you can message me if you ever need anything… or if you just wanted to you know, talk?“ he muttered as the urge to bite the shit out of this man piqued once more.
“i’ll definitely message you if i need anything or if i want to talk but you can do the same too!” you hummed as you slipped your phone back into your pocket.
“i’ll keep that in mind.” he smiled before turning around to walk away. “please do.” you shot back before turning to make your own way home. offering a quick exchange in waves you marched home ready to text your groupchat about what had just happened until you felt your phone vibrate.
‘@iwa.hajime has sent you a message: see you tomorrow :)’
on second thought. maybe your group chat could wait.
#NOT PROOFREAD#i despise this but content is content#iwaizumi hajime#iwaizumi x reader#iwaizumi x you#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x reader#hq x you#hq x reader
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congrats on 2k!!! you deserve it and so so much more <3
can i request being overprotective of them in front of prospective partners with max ofc thank u very much -cait/@leclerced
# prompt no.10, being overprotective of them in front of prospective partners
mariahcarreyyy's 2k celebration announcement post
It was embarrassing.
Watching two grown men argue over who would drive you home from the lively, neon-lit bar led to a bashful flush, warming your body amidst the crisp darkness of the night.
Only minutes prior, Max had taken one look at you and decided home was where you should be. You didn't make any protests because he's right; you wonder if you looked like a book to Max—pages crinkled, broken spines, and easily read words in his favorite font.
"I can take my fucking girlfriend home, Max," your boyfriend, Scotty, seethes through gritted teeth, an ugly vein bursting on his forehead.
Scotty evidently did not like the idea of Max driving you home for a reason you had no idea of. You and Max had been friends for years, so if even an ounce of your yearning and want was reciprocated, he would've done something by now.
That thought did little to dwindle the stubborn 'what if's from gnawing at your soul, the twinge in your heart whenever you see Max with anyone but yourself.
And also the slight guilt at thinking of another man when you have a perfectly fine one waiting at home for you each night but. Whatever.
"I swear to fucking God if you get into that car with her--"
Eyes widening, you place a calming hand on Max's shoulder and ignore the daggers your boyfriend is glaring at your touch. "Okay, how 'bout we all relax, yeah?"
Max cranes his neck to look at you, his harsh facade melting when he catches sight of the worry etched on your face. Once his heaving turned into steady breathing, your face ducking shyly to look away from his gaze, your boyfriend cleared his throat loudly.
You hastily drop your hand like the Dutch had burned you, and Max lets out a disapproving noise at the loss of your contact. Yeah, Scotty did not look impressed. The murderous glint in his eyes did nothing to quell the uncomfortable atmosphere, his jaw flexing like he's capable of murder, of tearing Max's limbs off and letting the blood spill on the pavement.
"Scotty...to be fair, you did drink, and I don't really feel like dying tonight."
A hand creeps around Max's waist, your fingertips pinching the flesh after you hear him snort. A barely concealed yelp from the driver has Scotty scrunching his nose up in distaste, nostrils flared, and betrayal painted across his face.
You should probably side with your boyfriend, but. But the cool breeze makes the tiny hairs on your arms stand up, teeth chattering; you wrap the thin, barely-there jacket Max gave you at the beginning of the night and roll your eyes, walking to Max's car.
Fondly, Max observes the impatient tapping of your foot and flush on your face—from the cold, he tells himself, not for the same reasons as himself. He raises his brows tauntingly at Scotty before advancing towards your shaky frame.
"Fuckin' bitch," Scotty mutters into the air, lips pursed into a scowl and vodka overriding his senses.
Your ears don't quite grasp the words, but Max's do. So, when the world champion's fist paves the way for the colorful hues of a bruise to bloom on the bridge of your boyfriend's nose, you can't help but choke on a gasp.
authors note. anddddd scotty makes a comeback!!!! tbf in the og fic he was actually portrayed as a good bf. max & reader r js bad ppl. now i dont have to feel bd tho cus he's terrible in this🥰
#mariahcarreyyy . . . 2k celebration#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x y/n#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen smut#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic#mv1 smut#mv1 x y/n#mv1 x you#mv1 fic#mv1 imagine#mv1 x reader#mv33 smut#mv33 imagine#mv33 x reader#mv33 x you#mv33 fic#formula one x reader#formula one x you#formula one x y/n#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula 1 fic#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 imagine#f1 2024#f1 fanfic
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HAUNTING ~ JASON P. TODD. 18+
Summary: Maybe blocking Jason isn't such a great idea.
Contents: dry humping, oral sex (female receiving), fingering in the alleyway, fucking in the alleyway hence risky sex slash teeny tiny bit of exhibitionism, rough sex, size difference, unhealthy relationship.
Pairing: Jason P. Todd X Female! Reader.
Word count: 2.6k
Author note: an anon implied that they want a part two of the drabble i made abt ex! jason. it is here... and it's valentine's day special. sorry for dropping bangers and leaving for another 2 months. will do it again. enjoy!
🖥️ MAIN MENU. PART ONE.
I know if I’m haunting you,
you must be haunting me.
You told yourself this was going to be the last time. The morning after Jason had left, you were already blocking his number and changing the lock to your front door the next day. Maybe it’s the post-nut clarity that helps you realized that maybe… maybe this things going on between you and him wasn’t exactly healthy. Maybe it’s a good idea to ignore the calls you’ve been getting from ‘unknown’ caller knowing full well it was him.
You think it’s a little cute when he went as far as to text you from Dick’s number.
He thinks you’re a brat.
Besides, who cares if what him and you had going on wasn’t healthy? You didn’t have to blocked him.
Whatever, what’s done is done. “He’s going to stop reaching out eventually.” you told yourself only to see him leaning against his bike, waiting for you in one of the alleyway you always passes after your night shift a week after blocking him. The red helmet slightly glints in the dark when the streetlight hits, “come here,” he murmurs, head tilts slightly to the side. There’s a battered bouquet of red roses in his hand, the veins on his forearm pokes out from how tight he gripped the bouquet to the point that the stems are crushed. “Happy Valentine’s Day, princess. Come get your flowers.” Jason adds, his other hand reached up to removed his helmet as he placed it on the seat of his bike.
”I don’t want to.” A small huff left your lips.
”Just do it, goddamnit [Y/N].”
Old habits die hard.
Your shoulders drops in defeat as you dragged your feet to him, you can’t help it. As much as you want to keep up the ‘I’ve-totally-moved-on’ acts, you just can’t. So here you are, not even five minutes in and Jason already had his arms wrapped around your waist, his lips naturally finding their way to yours the second you had your head slightly tilts up. “Blocked my number, huh? What, you think you’re so mature, huh?” He snorts, letting the bouquet falls from his hand to hold you tighter in his arms. “I didn’t block you…” You whined, standing on your tip toes to keep him quiet by smothering his lips with small pecks.
”Yeah right, that’s totally believable.” He scoffed in between the pecks you're giving him, his head tilts down to make it easier for you to reached in for more kisses. “Because my texts and calls totally got thru.” You can practically taste the sarcasm dripping from the way he talks to you. “I might have accidentally blocked you.” You pulled back slightly to watch as his face gradually sours. He stared back at you with an annoyed look, his brows furrowed before a low groan leaves his lips. “Face the wall.” He groaned, his fingers running thru his black locks before you reluctantly turn to face the wall, “We’re doing it right here?” You stuttered as you spared him a glance over your shoulder, your eyes quickly widened when he pressed himself against you. His bulge slightly rubs against your ass, his hands digs into your hips to keep you still. “Damn right we are.” He says, his breathing slightly staggered as he moves his hips slightly to get more friction against his clothed cock.
You leaned the back of your head, fingers latching onto his forearms as a support. “You’re so annoying, you know that, right?” He speak with a gruff, there’s creases on his forehead as Jason looked back at him. “How many times are you going to do this, huh? Acting like I don’t exist and blocking my number the second we had sex. I’m gettin’ real sick of it, [Y/N].” His hand reached up to grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him as he grinds himself against the curves of your ass. “Fucking brat.” He adds, his thumb gently brushing over your lips. “My fucking brat.”
“I don’t know,” you breathes, your lips instinctively parting as Jason slips his thumb into your mouth. “…until you’re bored of me?.” You muffled out your words, eyes slowly turning cloudy from the having his cock brushing up against you. He scoffed at your reasoning, rolling his eyes before he pressed his thumb down your tongue.
”As if.” He mumbled, leaning down slightly to rest his chin on your shoulder. “You’re gonna block me again after this?” His eyes flickered to looked back at you. You stared at him for a solid minute with only the sound of his jeans and your skirt rubbing together can be heard before he removed his thumb off your tongue to let you speak. “No?” You stammers, mentally cursing yourself when he smirked at your answer. “Good girl.” He replied, his hand falls to the hem of your skirt.
”I missed you,” A soft whine left his lips as his fingers desperately reached down to rub your clit. Jason leaned against you to leave kisses on your neck and up to your jaw as his fingers pushes your panties aside. “You’re so wet already, baby.” He mutters, massaging the bundle of nerves in a circular motion. He slowly swipes his fingers between your folds as you leave trails of your wetness on his fingers. “Looks like this pretty little thing misses me too.” He chuckled when you whimpers at the feeling of his fingers being pushed inside of you. “I missed you too…” You whined, eyes shut tight as he pumps his digits deeper into your sopping cunt. The wetness between your legs sticks to your thighs and clings to his fingers, his teeth hungrily leaving marks on your neck. “Sorry for blocking you.” Your body shuddered in sheer bliss when his fingers curls with his calloused palm constantly brushing against your clit.
”Yeah? You’re sorry?” He asked, his voice growing breathy while his other hand clumsily undo his belt and zipper. A small frustrated groan leaves his throat before he pulls his fingers out of you causing you to pout and whine. “Oh, come on. Give me a second.” He laughed, turning you around but this time facing his bike. He moves your leg up on the seat before he kneel down behind you. “Fuck… Look at that.” He whispers, his warm breath fanned against your pussy before he desperately buried his face in between your thighs. “Jason!” You squeaked, toes curling upon feeling his tongue lapping on your clit with his fingers tightly gripping your thighs. His thick fingers leaving marks on your skin as you squirmed on his bike, causing him to land a spank on your cheek.
You whined. “What’s that for?” You looked back at him only to be met with his dazed eyes and his mouth still latching onto your pussy, drinking every liquid that drips out of you. For once in the span of an hour filled with nothing but his sarcasm, he was quiet. Except for the occasional groans and moans every time you pushes deeper against his nose. Your nails digs into the cushion of his seat as you whimpers when he slide his tongue into your entrance, prodding in and out of your entrance before he finally pulled back for some air.
”Jeez, Jay…” He looked up at you when you pouted, his cheeks and chin were coated with your juices before his eyes cast down to the way you wiggled your hips at him. “…keep going.” You bat your lashes at him, the excitement in your stomach stirs as he tugs his pants and boxer just low enough for his cock to springs out of the tight confinement before gently slapping against his stomach. His thumb keeping your panties aside and your entrance exposed to him, "Calm down, princess." He sighs before his teeth digs into his lower lip, it's been a hard week since he felt anything close to this. Sure, he settled on his fist for the first two days before he completely stopped when he realised that fucking his fist to the thought of you wasn't as good as fucking you.
He slowly moves his hips, managing to bury the tip of his cock inside of you as he lets out a choked moan. "Still feels good as ever." He moaned, head tilted back with his eyes closed. His cock twitches in you when small whines falls past your lips, sending vibrations down to him as the muscles tightening around his length. "Christ, you're still not used to me?" His breath were shaky before he looked down to you, admiring at the clear size difference between the two of you as you tried your best to take every inch of him.
"S'not my fault," You huffed, your legs slightly trembles underneath him. Jason shifts your position slightly, holding you by the waist with one hand while his other hand makes their way under your shirt to fondled with your tits. "Never said it was." He replied, pushing his cock deeper inside of you until he’s halfway in when he stopped, noticing the way you tensed up. “It’s okay, baby. Just a few more inches and the hard part’s over.” Your body shuddered from his whispers, his breath tickling the back of your neck before you quickly nods at his words. His hand reached to wiped the sweats off your forehead before his hips slowly moves, “Mhm, just like that… Just relax.” Jason coos, planting small kisses on your temples.
A whine break out of your sealed lips when he completely buried himself inside of you, filling every crevices off your pussy with his twitching cock. The curve of his length itches just the sweet spot to make you see stars, “Jason…” The sound of you calling his name temporarily distracts him from the way your pussy clamped him down. His fingers had its deadly grips on your hips as you stand on your tip toes just to slightly fuck yourself on his cock, “Yeah?” He croaked, replying back to you with a deeper tone as he glanced down to the way your ass softly slaps against his pelvis, “You’re adjusting?” He asked before you let a small ‘mhm’ left your lips.
“You’re just fucking yourself on me.”
“No, I’m not.” You lied with a crooked grin. Jason rolled his eyes.
“Just look at the damn wall. You’re gonna break that dainty little neck if you keep looking back at me like that.” He mumbled, moving his hips into you in a more quicker pace. “Hold onto my helmet. Drop it and I’m stopping.” He grabbed a fistful off your ass while you quickly grabbed the red helmet, hugging it to your chest. The sound of skin slapping can be heard throughout the dark alleyway, your shared moans and groans reverberates and bounces off the brick walls. He moves his hand down between your legs, his fingers pressing down on your clit as he moves it in sloppy, circular motion. His other hand holding on the handle of his bike, “Lift your ass up, baby.” He grunted, brow furrowing as his hips moves back and forth, every thrust felt like he’s sending you over the edge.
”I’m trying!” You said in a hushed tone, too breathless. You weren’t sure if your knees can take anymore before they buckled to the dirty ground. In an act of desperation, Jason lifts you up with his forearm under your stomach causing your legs to dangled off the ground before he continue shoving his fat cock into your dripping pussy. You let out a small gasp, he’s really doing it-- he’s quite literally carrying you like a doll. “Can’t even do the simplest thing.” He huffed, eyes closed with his the tip of his nose tickling the crook of your neck as your fingers clings to his helmet, not wanting to dropped it lest he stopped just for the sake of making you miserable.
Your eyes lazily gazes at the other end of the alleyway where anyone that decides to passed the alleyway can noticed the both of you. Your cheeks warmed up at the thought, minimizing your moans into small squeaks and whines. You glanced at Jason, hoping he doesn’t notice only for him to sharply thrust into you to elicit a loud moan out of you, green eyes narrowing down at you. “Don’t be quiet,” He whispered, his other hand reached to traced the curve of your spine with his thumb lightly. “Let me hear you.” He dragged his voice to sound slightly whiny just to tease you even further.
You hated how much you expected this from the get go.
Blocking him was never an option, Jason has a knack when it comes to keeping you tied to him. One command from him and you’d rushed back into his arms like a puppy, hopelessly lingering around him. “Feels so good…” You whispered back, lashes thick with salty tears as wanton moans spills out of your swollen lips. You hated the fact that the both of you knows this. You’re not even sure if the both of you were even exes at some point. The feeling of the head of his cock brushing against your sweet spot sends you shivering despite being half dressed, it doesn’t help how godly his cock is. The delicious curve that sends you whining for more, the noticeable vein on the side of his length, the way his balls slaps against your clit, the thickness of it-- all of it drives you insane, fills your body with nothing but carnal desires.
“Outside? Inside?” He asked in between his groans, strands of his black locks sticks to his forehead as his jaw clenches. You know it’s near when his movement grow sloppy and inconsistent, his eyes darkened with sheer lust and the muscles on his bicep flexes. “Fuck, don’t just gimme puppy eyes, princess. Answer me.” He said with gritted teeth, purposely moving his hips rougher into you as you cried out of pleasure. “Out, out, out…” Your babbles almost went incoherent when you choked on your own moans while you blinks away the tears that welled at the corned of your eyes. He nods his head, burying his face into your shoulder as his arm around your waist tightens.
”Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” He curses, his head spinning and leaving him dizzy. Jason wanted to stay inside of you badly, the warmth of your cunt wrapping snugly around him screams nothing but heaven. And the fact that you’re already cumming on his cock before he even gets to pulled out? God, you’re just torturing him at this point. He pulled out of you right before he finishes, wet and sticky seeds shooting on your back and staining your skirt as he winces when the cold air hits his cock. “Oh my god.” His chuckle were airy, skin were slightly flushed from the lovemaking. Jason cradled you in his arms, turning you around to face him before placing you on top of his bike.
”You okay?” He asked, softly massaging your inner thighs. His forehead presses against yours, his gaze softened at the sight of you looking back at him with tired eyes. “Yep.” Your answer were short as you steadied your breathing, your arms wrapped around his neck to pulled him closer while Jason fixes your clothes.
”Wanna go rest at my place?”
The both of you stared at each other for a solid minute. You give him a small nod.
“That’s my girl.”
DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE OR MODIFY ANY OF MY WORKS. ©️ KENNEDYBABY.
#i heard a small snippet of it then got working#ovulating so harddd rnn thank god jason todd were created#dc smut#jason todd smut#jason todd x reader#jason todd x reader smut#jason todd x you#jason todd imagines#jason todd x female reader#tw. exhibitionism
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just saw your post about wanting prompts 👀 how about something sweet and fluffy (feel free to add smut if you wanna though, cause lord knows i’d never reject it) featuring ellie with a reader whose top love languages are acts of service and/or gift-giving? maybe reader knits her something super soft? or anything along those lines. thank you bby MWAH 💕
is this thing on? 🎤
you give ellie a gift on your first date
a/n short... and sweet... but cut me some slack. my first bit of writing since my exams, i need to get back into it!!!!
your first date with ellie had been amazing so far. the picnic you had assembled with all of her favorite things was great. it was the perfect occasion to enjoy each other, some food, drinks and the final bits of sunshine that fall was shining upon your town. ellie looked great. she always did, but it was clear that she put effort in her outfit today. a new-ish looking cream colored tank top with a brown flannel draped over it, paired with black cargo pants and her – as always – worn-out black converse. she looked good, very good even. her hair was still a bit damp. you thought it was cute, and you swore that she had cut it a bit shorter since the last time you saw her.
after a couple of hours soaking in her company and the rays of sunshine you decided it was best to start heading back. it was getting rather dark, so ellie was adamant on walking you home. you talked about everything and nothing, just enjoying the last couple moments you had with her before you had to call an end to your day together. you arrived back home and opened your door, but remained on the doorstep to say goodbye to ellie first.
“i had a real fun time, y’know. i guess you’re not that bad after all.” you rolled your eyes and shook your head, placing the picnic basket that you had been carrying on your way back between your legs. you sigh exaggeratedly before playing along. “you’re insatiable, ellie williams. is this how you thank a girl for taking you out on a date and preparing a picnic basket for you?” she looked down and tried to hide the little blush that crept up her neck at your words.
you flicked her ear, “i’m just kidding, loser. you’re not that bad either i guess- oh! before i forget… stay here for a second.”
you rushed upstairs to your room, rummaging around in your desk drawers to see where you had left the little present you made ellie. you had recently been getting into crocheting and took the hint when ellie sent you a video of someone making a crochet dinosaur. it aligned perfectly with your gift-giving love language, you were happiest when you could make someone else happy by giving them something.
you finally found the little dinosaur in your bottom drawer underneath some shirts, probably having thrown it there to make sure she wouldn’t find it if she ever opened that drawer. you walked back down the stairs and opened the door again, now facing your date with one hand held behind your back.
“what’ya got there?”
“a surprise, close your eyes and put your hands in front of you.”
that’s what ellie did, she seemed a bit skeptical at first but did so nonetheless, and you placed the little dinosaur in her hands. “okay, it’s not much, but you’ve made it rather clear that you wanted this. open your eyes, els.”
“shut up, this is so fucking cute y/n.” the wide smile that crept on her face was worth all the hours you put into the little animal. while she was thoroughly inspecting the little green dinosaur, you couldn’t help but notice how soft her lips looked. they were slightly chapped, as they always were, but still seemed so kissable. she was mumbling away about how you had done a good job with proportion but you weren’t invested in what she was saying.
“can i kiss you?”
“hmm?”
“i asked if i could kiss you, ellie.”
whatever nerdy dinosaur fact she was sharing now long forgotten, her arms pulling you in by your waist while yours circled around her neck. you leaned in closer, leaving the last couple inches for ellie to close.
you were right. despite being a little chapped, her lips were still incredibly soft. you moved in unison, your lips speaking a language that seemed to have been discovered the second they touched. ellie pulled you impossibly closer to her, soaking in your body warmth, until you had to pull away to catch your breath.
you rested your forehead against hers, giggling softly when you realized you had just, finally, got to kiss your best friend. “you have no clue how long i have wanted to do this for, els.” she chuckled and pressed another kiss against your lips, addicted to the fluttering feel in her stomach.
“i better get going, mum expects me back for dinner. thank you for today y/n. thank you for the picnic and thank you for the dinosaur.” she points her finger between you two, “and thank you for this.”
your cheeks hurt from smiling, but you couldn’t care less. you pressed a couple more kisses against ellie’s lips before finally letting go of her, with the promise of seeing her at school tomorrow.
ellie loved the little dinosaur. she got home and immediately went up to her bedroom, placing the little green animal on her nightstand, next to the polaroid of you both at one of her football games last year.
she pressed a kiss on it’s head every night before she went to bed, feeling like she was also kissing a little bit of you goodnight.
photos: ultraviolentromantic/pinterest & cinemaconrad/pinterest (we are respectful in this house and we credit creators)
#not proofread as usual#is this thing on?#torlex speaking 🌿#ellie williams x reader#the last of us#the last of us 2#tlou#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams smut
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distractions | jjk
⇢ PAIRING: fuckboy!jk x inexperienced reader
⇢ RATING: m/18+
⇢ WC: 1.1k
⇢ WARNINGS: cute couple content, they drop the 'l' word guys, n*pple piercings n sucking bc u know... fixation lmao, v suggestive but no actual sm*t, finger sucking lol, the love is requited :')
⇢ SUMMARY: jungkook agreed to let you do his makeup, but he can't stop getting distracted.
⇢ NOTES: ugh i missed them dearly!! will be putting out more drabbles soon, but i'm currently trying to focus on my other wip!! i haven't posted anything in so long so i wanted to share this with you guys! school n work is hectic i already feel swamped pls be patient with me :') i miss having time for a hobby lmao!! anyways, i hope you enjoy and let me know ur thoughts! love u <3 also apologize if there's any typos or weirdness, this wasn't beta'd!! if you haven't read practice yet, pls read before this!!
⇢ SERIES MASTERLIST
“Kook, look up! How many times do I have to tell you?”
Four months into the relationship and his attention span, or lack thereof, never ceased to amaze you. With a frustrated groan, you place the pointy end of your Sailor Moon brush between your teeth before gripping his chin and turning his wandering gaze back to you.
“Bambi, I’m looking up!” He yell-laughs, doe-eyes wide and sarcastic as they bear into you, equally frustrated. You can already see the concealer you applied just a few minutes ago creasing. Dramatically, he karate chops his tattooed arm towards the ceiling, paralleling your scantily clad frame straddling him. The sudden jump has you shifting against his crotch deliciously. Now’s not the time for fooling around, though. You’re determined to put the cute brush set Jungkook randomly gifted you a few weeks back to good use, starting with giving your sweet boyfriend a full beat. “This is up! What other direction is up?”
What an asshole.
You pop the pink plastic out of your mouth, taking an annoyed chomp out of his annoying fingers. It's playful, of course. You mean, you’ve just got done with a whitening strip, after all…
Jungkook takes the opportunity to shove his digits further past your glossy lips, reaching down just enough to feel your throat constrict, then pulling back. He stares up at you with the cheesiest fucking grin, clearly pleased with himself.
“You’re mean,” you cough, wiping the drool at the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand.
“No you,” he counters, pinching your cheek patronizingly. “I love you, though.”
One month into the lovey-dovey phase of the relationship; that one where the initial butterflies fly away and you’re left feeling like ‘wow, maybe this is a forever sort of thing,’ and you still feel lightheaded every time Jungkook murmurs those three words.
“I love you, too,” you coo, reaching down to adjust his teddy-bear headband. Jungkook’s been growing his hair out. This was his last semester and he was determined to go out with a bang. For whatever reason, he had decided that bang was a mullet. You remember how confused you were when he showed up at your dorm at 3am, drunk off Fireball and excitement, asking you to cut his hair. You thought the request was outlandish and foolish, but you did it anyway, in your bathroom with eyebrow scissors. It came out a teeny bit crooked, and a tiny bit choppy, but Jungkook loved it, staring at his reflection with a big bunny smile and starry eyes. “But baby, this-” you tap on the headboard behind him, “-is up.”
He squints his eyes in defiance before complying. Ah, you’ve trained him well. A very good boy, indeed.
You’ve spoken, or thought, too soon, because after a few swipes of the plush bristles, a high-pitched ‘Appa!’ from your phone, leaning against your Kuromi makeup bag on the nightstand beside you, draws his dark pupils back to the cartoon.
“That’s it,” you huff like an overwhelmed mother of three, yanking the device out of his sight. “Say goodbye to Aang. You’ve lost your Avatar: The Last Airbender privileges.”
“C’mon, seriously?” He laughs while lunging forward, attempting to wrestle the phone out of your grasp. Giggling wildly, you toss it on the pink shag rug below you, out of his reach. The movement almost sends you toppling over. Luckily, Jungkook wraps an arm around your waist to keep you steady. “Bambi, you know I’m easily distracted.”
“But you said I could do your makeup,” you pout, batting your lashes at him.
“I know, I-”
“Don’t touch!” You shriek, preventing him from rubbing his eye.
“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes through a chuckle, holding his hands by his head in defense. “Maybe I…” You deadpan him as his eyes scan around the room before, not so subtly, landing on your chest. Cocking his head, he tuts his tongue and grips the hem of your shirt. Shamelessly, he stuffs the nearly transparent material into your mouth, exposing your bare breasts. “There, just like that,” he whispers, warm palms grazing up your torso to cup them, thumbs grazing over your little diamond heart jewelry. You gasp at the touch. “You know, I still can’t believe you actually got ‘em’.” Neither could you, honestly, but if there was one thing Jungkook has taught you, it’s that sometimes, you need to step out of your comfort zone. Take risks. Especially when it results in the cutest little nipple piercings. “So fucking sexy…”
You feel his forming bulge poking against you. God, do you want him. But even Jungkook’s dick couldn’t derail you from the mission at hand. Raising an eyebrow, you lift up the makeup brush.
The tits really seem to keep him preoccupied. With a hand on his cheek, you feel his mouth hollowing, sucking your nipple gingerly as you lean over him and fill in his thick brows. Obviously, it’s a bit hard to focus. Every now and then, you have to tug his hair to redirect his nibbles back down to soft licks.
“Okay,” you announce, letting the shirt fall from your candy-coated lips and sitting up, “what color?”
Out of the entire thirty-pan rainbow eyeshadow palette you’re holding up for him, he lazily points to the darkest shade in the top color. His favorite color, of course; black. You should’ve known. Your lips scrunch to the side in contemplation. Jungkook would look so yummy with a smokey eye.
So you blend and blend away with blacks, whites, and grays. Shockingly, your boyfriend manages to stay still throughout the entire process. You’re proud of him, really. He’ll definitely get rewarded afterward. And you were right, the final product is absolutely delectable.
“Baby, your eyelashes are stunning!” You swoon. “And the smokey-eye looks so so so good with your eye shape.”
Silence.
“Jungkook?” You lean forward, gripping his shoulders and shaking softly. Nothing but the sound of faint snores reaches your ears. The little fuck fell asleep. No wonder why he’s been so good. You laugh in disbelief, picking your phone off the floor and snapping a few pictures to show him in the morning. Reaching into your drawer, you take out a couple makeup wipes and start cleaning him up. You loathe makeup wipes and only keep them for emergencies, but Jungkook looks so peaceful that you can’t bring yourself to wake him.
Next, you snuggle beside him with a spare blanket, unable to yank your comforter out from under his thick, muscular thighs. He stirs when you gently pull off his headband. “I love you…” he mumbles, still half asleep. It’s as if the emotion is so ingrained in his subconscious that they bubble to the surface, even when he’s sleepy and incoherent.
And you feel the same exact way.
“I love you, Jungkook. Goodnight.”
© chryblossomjjk 2023 [do not copy, translate or repost]
#bts#bts x reader#bts smut#jungkook#jeon jungkook#bts jungkook#jungkook smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook fanfic#jungkook series#jungkook fic#jungkook drabble#bangtan#jungkook scenario#jungkook one shot#jungkook imagine#bts imagine#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x you
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Blackpink in Your Area (p1) ft. Jennie Kim
Pairing: Jennie Kim x Male!Reader
Rating: Explicit / Mature
Wordcount: 1.6k
Summary: After her latest performance you find yourself sneaking backstage with your girlfriend.
AN: some context, this was made...god around the time of their first world tour? so writing wise it might not follow the same rhythm of my current stuff. but it's a personal fave i've had privately that i figure fuck it i might as well post it now. if you want to read a TWICE converted version of this chapter with Nayeon you can find it on my AFF profile but this is the OG never published version. Enjoy!
"Where are we going?"
"Ssh. Just come on!"
The accented voice leaves little room for argument as the owner's hand pulls you down another corridor. It seems with every turn you get further and further lost — which is likely the point. However, Jennie seems to know exactly where she is going, a small comfort at least. She pulls you down another tight passage then stops, pressing you against the cold wall. Instinctively you hold your breath before realizing you have no reason to — or at least you hope you don't.
"Jennie, you're acting like we're running from the cops," you speak, your voice a hushed whisper despite your previous reasoning.
"They might as well be the police," she responds, glancing back the way you came.
After another moment, she must be pleased that there is no one following you and turns to face you, a mischievous grin on her features. Without a word, she cups your face with her hands, bringing your lips down to meet hers in a slow, greedy kiss. Whatever concerns or confusion you had previously begin to fade away as your hands find their way around her. It has been so long since you had a moment together that you had forgotten how easy it was to melt into her embrace.
She pulls back, her nose brushing against yours. "If anyone saw us," even with your eyes closed, you can hear the relief and satisfaction in her voice. The kiss had the same effect on you. "This would be over and my career would be on the line," she places a kiss to your jaw as she speaks.
It is a bittersweet truth. What you have is masked in darkness and secrecy; not even the other members of her group know about you. If it were ever revealed to the public, not only would the fans and paparazzi eat you alive, dating is strictly against her company's rules. You always said that you would end things with her before you ever let that happen to her.
You feel her palm running over your cheek, your distressed thoughts likely showing on your face as your brow furrows. "Don't think about that now," she presses another kiss to your lips, then another and another; giving you plenty of time to notice just how soft and irresistible her lips are. By the fourth kiss, you are eagerly kissing her back, your hands sliding from her waist up her back, pulling her closer than you already were.
This time around your embrace is needier, hungrier; as if every second you were living on borrowed time. You feel her hands move from your cheek up into your hair, fingers running through and gripping at the short strands. Her teeth dig into your bottom lip, tugging on it while she peers up at you with those killer eyes of hers. The sight alone is enough to make your heart skip a beat.
"I need you," she says when she lets go, "Right here. Now."
As she speaks, one hand slides down from your hair, running over your chest and rubbing over your slacks. Her palm encourages the bulge that is growing there and you cannot deny that your arousal doesn't just come from her but the fact that at any moment you could be discovered. It is exhilarating in its own way. Adrenaline and lust are a dangerous concoction on any night but here with Jennie, it seems especially so.
You agree without a word, only giving a small nod of your head before you are spinning her around so her ass is jutting out to you while her hands splay against the opposite wall. She is still dressed in her stage outfit from the earlier performance, which doesn't help to subdue your eager hands in the least. She is stunning in every way, yet when she is on stage she still somehow seems to magnify that. Seeing the outfit just brings back memories of watching her earlier that night.
"Need some help there?" A teasing voice breaks you from your momentary recollection. Jennie is glancing over her shoulder at you, brunette hair partially masking her features. She has a vixen side to her and truth be told, you are used to her taking control and being in charge, but you also know that you cannot let this opportunity she is giving you go to waste.
In return, you offer her a smirk of your own, "Merely admiring the view." Though given your time and place, this is hardly the moment for appreciation.
You push her plaid skirt up, your hand dipping between her thighs. "You've soaked right through your training shorts, baby," you try to keep the arousal out of your voice, but the husky facade cracks just a bit. Jennie moans in response; the notion turns you on just as much as it does her clearly. "Just how long were you thinking about this?"
At first, it is a rhetorical question, but as your wrist snaps back and forth, fingers getting her off over her clothing, you find yourself eagerly waiting for an answer. Jennie does not give any; her breath comes out in quick hiccups. She leans further into the wall, her hips pressing out closer to you in obvious need. "Were you thinking about it during your performance?"
"Y-Yes..." she manages, her own hand reaching back to grip your wrist, refusing to let you stop. "When I saw you in the crowd — oh god."
You can tell she is going further and further down the rabbit hole. Her New Zealand accent becomes more pronounced the more aroused she gets. An astute observation you have made over your time together. It is not the only sign either; she is biting down on her plump bottom lip and her thighs are clenching deliciously around your hand.
Satisfied with her answer, you lean over her, your breath hot against the shell of her ear. "Baby, we don't have much time."
The idol takes a moment before she nods in response, her grip loosening on your hand. Your fingers deftly move from between her thighs to her waistband, pulling down her spanks to expose her to the night air. You make quick work of your pants buckle, or at least you try to. Your own eagerness causes your hands to fumble with it for a second before finally getting it undone and unzipped.
"Oh fuck..." Jennie moans loudly as you slide your length into her, and it is the most heavenly sound in existence. In any other time, you might've clasped one hand on her mouth to muffle the moans lest you be discovered, but in this moment, caution is thrown to the wind.
You can feel your cock swelling even further once you are inside her; the walls of her pussy clamping down on you. It takes you one thrust, then another before you are in to the hilt, a deep groan rumbling from your chest past your lips as you take a moment to revel in the sensation. That moment is all you allow yourself, however. Comparing it to the earlier kiss that had been the slow and eager first embrace; what comes next is pure hunger and lust.
Your hands grip her waist tighter as you pull out of her, hips snapping forward to meet hers. Another delicious moan reaches your ears as she lets her head fall back. Each thrust is harder and faster than the last, desperate to be with her and to have her coming undone in pleasure. Of course, to do that, you have to hold yourself together as well, and that is no easy task. "God, you feel so good."
The sound of skin slapping together begins to fill the space you have tucked into, mixing with the heavy breaths and moans that fill the air. You lean over her, one hand moving to turn her face towards you as your lips meet in a sloppy embrace. "I love seeing you like this. I want to make you feel this good all the time."
Jennie only moans in response, her mouth hanging open as she takes every inch of you. Your free hand moves from her waist to her chest; fondling her breast through her top. You have enough sense not to be so aggressive that you pop a button, but it is a tall task. The last thing you need is questions from the costume department.
"Fuck, right there," her hand reaches back, grabbing at your ass to force your cock back to hitting the same spot. Jennie is so used to being in control that you are almost tempted to deny her request. And maybe in a different time and place, you would have teased her for a bit before giving in. Now, however, you do not even have control over yourself, let alone strength to tease her. All you can do is what she asks of you. Hips move frantically to fulfill her desire, driving her closer and closer to the edge.
Her nails dig into your skin, and you can feel your own release coming as well. "I — I'm close!" you grunt in warning.
"Hold on, baby. Hold on, I'm almost there... almost...!" she goes quiet; her body tightening as her mouth falls open in a silent cry, her eyes shut tight as her orgasm runs through her. Fingers dig into the back of your neck as she comes, and it is just might've been the most beautiful thing you have witnessed since her last one. Jennie has never been the loudest when she comes undone, yet it is still enough for you to reach your breaking point.
"JENNIE?!"
Suddenly, a voice cries out, causing you to physically jump back, your cock springing free of Jennie's pussy, cum shooting in the air. When you look in the direction of the out crying voice, you are both aroused and horrified.
There stands Jennie's group-mate and best friend, Jisoo, her face coated in your cum.
"...Oh fuck..."
#male reader#blackpink smut#jennie kim smut#jennie x male reader#jennie kim x male reader#jennie kim x reader#kpop smut
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oh, admiral | b.f
pairing: robert “bob” floyd x f!reader
word count: 1555
warnings: smut, nsfw [18+ only], role play, slight dub con, an homage to fleabag s2 [2019], superior/subordinate, admiral robert “bob” floyd, shoe riding, office sex, degradation/humiliation, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, breeding kink, excessive use of the word ‘cunt’,
summary: in which you would do anything for admiral floyd…
author’s note: based off this post by @lewmagoo about the new lew pics 🤤 tysm again for letting me write this!
oneshot | masterlist | ao3
You stand before Admiral Floyd with your head held high, despite your metaphorical tail tucked between your legs. You listen to him rant and rave about your recklessness, that two of your team are now in the med bay seriously injured.
You knew the maneuver was stupid. You knew better than to use them as a decoy so you could get behind the enemy. They’d agreed to it – they knew the risks, but you were the superior. You shouldn’t have even humoured the idea, let alone voiced it.
Admiral Floyd paced the room in front of you. You hated that he looked so good, with his hair pushed back and his stupid Navy regulated glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. The way the sleeves of his shirt had been rolled up his arms haphazardly to reveal his forearms – tanned and muscular. How the fuck were his forearms so sexy?
He took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose with two thick fingers. You felt your pussy clench at the sight of his hands – his forearms. The way the muscles flexed with the slight exertion.
“I can’t let you walk out of here without some kind of punishment on your record, Captain.”
You hated how crisp his white shirt was, tucked into the waistband of his dark trousers. How his medals gleamed in the light of his office over his left breast.
“I’ll take whatever punishment you deem necessary, Sir, but I implore you not to take my wings.”
“What makes you think I give a single fuck about what you implore me to do?” He snapped. “This isn’t the first time you’ve broken protocol, Captain. I have to make an example out of you. This shit doesn’t fucking fly around here, and neither do you. You’re suspended for three months, pending further investigation.”
“Sir,” you pleaded, stepping closer to him, aware of the desperation in your voice.
Bob’s head snaps towards you, his icy gaze freezing you in place.
“Sir, I’ll do anything.” You continued, watching him slip his glasses back onto his face. “I know it was a stupid call. It should be me in the med bay, not Mayhem and Puff. I’ll do anything to make it right, just please. Please don’t suspend me.”
Admiral Floyd chuckled humourlessly and walked towards one of the armchairs in his office. You watched him walk. The way his shirt hugged his muscular back. The way his long legs made short work of closing the distance between himself and the chair.
“Come here, Captain,” he instructed, eyes trained on your own as you swallowed thickly. He caught the almost imperceptible gulp and the way your gaze dropped to his lips, then lower. And even lower.
“Sir?” You asked, cocking your head slightly once you were stood in front of him.
“On your knees, Captain. I want you to beg me not to take your wings,” he said, voice rough. He was barely able to stop himself from adjusting his throbbing cock, hands white-knuckling the arms of the chair as you slowly sunk to your knees.
“Please, Sir,” you began, aware that it was a weak effort. Seeing him before you like this, legs spread, eyes dark and lips parted as he quickly gulped in each breath. You hadn’t even started. “Admiral Floyd.”
“What?!” He hissed, voice thick and gravelly as he took in your appearance. Your hooded eyes, laboured breathing. On your knees between his legs. God, you were a sight.
“Sir, I–,” you let out an involuntary sob. “–I need this job more than anything. Flying is my life. Being a pilot is all I’ve ever dreamed of. You can’t, Sir.” You were laying it on thick with tears and trembling voice. “Please, I, the investigation will ruin me, Sir.”
“Fuck you for calling me ‘Sir’ like it doesn’t turn you on just to say it,” he growled, pressing the toe of his impeccably shiny shoe snug against the apex of your thighs. Just a little more and the point would be pressed against your clothed clit.
You gasped at the sudden feeling, clamping your legs around his shoe and staring up at him through wide eyes and wet lashes and splotchy cheeks. “I–Sir?”
“You said you’d do anything,” he continued. “Prove it, Captain.”
“I don’t–what?”
“Ride my shoe, Captain. Get yourself off. Prove to me just how desperately you don’t want the investigation to happen. If I like what I see…” He shifted slightly and your eyes dropped to his crotch where his erection strained against his trousers. “How desperate are you, Captain?”
Your breath caught in your throat as you rocked your hips against the point of his shoe, a low groan rumbling in your chest as you grazed your clothed clit against the leather. “Sir,” you whimpered, adding more pressure. Feeling your arousal dampening your underwear as you continued your ministrations. The slow rocking of your hips, your hands gripping his leg for stability.
“That’s a good girl,” he purred, watching your head fall back as you succumbed to the pleasure. “Fuck, look at you. So pretty, so desperate.”
“Sir, I–”
A moan tore through you, cutting off whatever you were about to say. Admiral Floyd reached forward to cup your cheek, tenderly at first, before roughly gripping your face and forcing your mouth open.
“Look at me when you cum all over my shoe, Captain,” he growled, earning a whimper in response. “You’re a fucking mess. Pathetic. You could’ve got your wingmen killed, Captain.”
A strangled sob sounded around the room. You squeezed your eyes shut as tears rolled down your cheeks. When you opened them again it was a struggle. A struggle to see your superior have such control over you. A struggle to hear him tell you that you’d fucked up. A struggle to cum while he goaded you with your mistakes.
But you were so close. You cried out as you came, legs clamping tighter around his shoe, body shaking with the intensity. Feeling both euphoria and disappointment was overwhelming. You’d fucked up and he’d made a spectacle out of you.
And fuck if that look in his eyes hadn’t branded it’s place in your soul for the rest of eternity.
Admiral Floyd chuckled as he dropped his hand from your face and settled back into the chair. “Look at what you’ve done, Captain.” He gestured to his crotch as he lowered his foot back to the ground. You whimpered at the loss of contact. “You’ve ruined my shoe, too.”
“I–I’m sorry, Sir.”
He clicked his tongue. You at least had the nerve to hold his gaze even as his hand brushed over his crotch.
“I should take you over my desk,” he pondered. “Make you walk out of here crying while my seed drips out of your cunt, hm?”
“Anything, Sir,” you repeated. “I’ll do anything.”
If that didn’t set him off, you didn’t know what would. He growled as he hauled you to your feet, undoing his pants just enough to get his cock out. Roughly pulling your own trousers down to your knees as he bent you over his desk and sank his cock deep into your sopping cunt.
You cried out as he roughly spanked your ass. Once, twice, three times. Each cheek stinging under the impact, tears freely flowing down your cheeks. He gripped your hips roughly, cock stretching you to the point it hurt. Giving you no time to warm to the intrusion before he pulled out and his hips snapped against your ass, bottoming out almost entirely.
“Sir!” You wailed, forearms braced on his desk. The solid mahogany roughly scraping against the floor with each relentless thrust.
“Shit, squeezing my cock so fucking good,” he praised. “Knew you’d like it rough. Reckless. It’s how you fly.”
You moaned as the tip of his cock brushed the spongy wall inside you that had you seeing stars.
“Fucking hell, gonna cum deep inside your cunt, Captain,” he cursed. “Beg me for it. Beg for me to finish inside you.”
“P-please,” you sobbed. “Please cum inside me, Sir. I need it. Need to feel you filling me up. Need to learn my lesson.”
“That’s fucking right.” He growled lowly. “Gonna flood your womb. Fuck, Captain. Taking my cock exactly how I always imagined.”
His grunts and moans drowned out your own whimpers and sobs. He was so close, you could feel the way his thrusts got more frantic. The way his breathing hitched and you flexed your pelvic muscles around him. He came hard, grunting out your name and praising your cunt for squeezing him so good.
No praise for you, just your cunt.
He stilled his movements, planting one more solid smack to your left cheek before pulling out.
“How was that, baby?”
“My legs feel like jelly,” you confessed with a laugh, pushing yourself up as he helped redress you. “You really got into it.”
“The tears drove me fucking wild,” he admitted, tucking himself back into his trousers before cupping your face. “Such a good girl for me.”
“Thank you, Sir,” you mewled, melting into his touch as he sweetly kissed you. Hands cupping your face, thumbs brushing away your tears. “I love you. Congratulations again on the promotion.”
“Thank you, darlin’. I love you, too.”
#robert bob floyd#bob floyd#robert bob floyd x you#robert bob floyd x reader#bob floyd x you#bob floyd x reader#bob floyd smut#robert bob floyd smut#bob floyd fanfic#bob floyd fanfiction#robert bob floyd fanfic#robert bob floyd fanfiction#*oh admiral#lewis pullman
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stay gold, baby boy
rating: 18+ (expliiiiicit)
pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader
word count: almost 6K
summary: six months into your friends-with-benefits situation, you institute a new game. A gold star on the board every time Dieter is a good boy. Today, he gets bingo . . . for wearing real pants.
warnings: friends with benefits (with more feelings), oral (m receiving), dom/sub dynamics (guess who subs today!), talks of edging, hair pulling, creampie, piv sex, praise kink, my mother raised me to have better taste in men but fuck it
a/n: remember when i posted this picture? And then this one? Remember how you could hear me yelling from space? Well, @sp00kymulderr has added fuel to the fire – Dieter and stickers. I can’t explain myself except that I was horny and I wanted to take his pants off with my teeth. So I did.
✨gif credit goes to the ever incredible, talented, and enabler of my dieter fantasies @perotovar! she saw me floundering with the header and immediately was like 'hold please i can make his baby cow eyes even better'✨
🤍Masterlist
With your foot on the low table, your ass firmly planted on the middle poofy cushion of the dumpster bin couch at the back of the trailer, thumbnail nibbled between your teeth, you have to admit it’s starting to get a little embarrassing. It’s honestly such a bad look.
Not that he would ever shame you for it. In fact, he’d probably like it.
And it’s not like you waited for him here all day. You had things to do as one of the co-screenwriters on this film. You had things to do and people to see and stuff to organize – all of which had nothing to do with Dieter fucking Bravo.
Okay, so a lot of it actually had to do with him. Lots of scene rewrites, lots of notes from the studio, lots of instances where the two of you had to put your heads together and come up with a solution that made the studio happy and didn’t make you want to claw your eyes out artistically speaking.
Which had led to this.
And the past six months of whatever this is. Working together led to seeing each other (outside of work), to eating with each other, to fucking each other – with the line firmly drawn there.
Whatever you may say about Dieter, the man could compartmentalize in a way that would make Marie Kondo weep with joy. By the way he treated you on set, no one in their right mind would ever have guessed he knew what you looked like naked. Or that he knew your left nostril twitched just before you came.
The same could be said for you too. Out of boredom one morning in the grocery store, you bought a trashy magazine with his face emblazoned across the top – Dieter Bravo and His Lonely Hearts Club. You weren’t one for the gossip rags, but flipping through it, not a single one of his “club members” mentioned his raging praise kink. You bought the damn thing on the spot, giving them all a consolation prize of some sort. Sorry, ladies, guess I win. Ha. Ha.
But, at the edge of the cushion, eyes occasionally flicking between the door and the failing darkness outside, you didn’t feel much like you’d won anything.
In fact, you’d lost. Big time. When all of this had been your stupid idea in the first place.
It had been your idea (and your initiative) to buy a packet of gold star stickers. Like the kind teachers use with their first graders. Actually, exactly like the ones teachers use for their first graders. You couldn’t form words when the woman at the education supply store ringing you up asked, “oh, what grade do you teach?”. You just tossed a twenty at her and booked it, your face painfully hot for a fairly innocuous purchase.
But all of that was his fault for dropping a praise kink and a teacher kink on you all at once the night after you jokingly spanked him with a ruler in front of the director, in-front of his co-star, because he wouldn’t agree to a line change, and he had to excuse himself from the room.
A month later and he forgoes touching himself for a gold star. He agrees to your line changes without argument for a gold star. He picks you up in the morning and drives you home at night for a gold star (you could drive yourself, but there’s always that last minute thing you need to talk to him about so you do it just because it’s easier, really).
He lets you come, over and over again, and keeps nothing for himself – all for a gold star.
Someone is bound to figure it out. They have to. Six months in and you’re getting sloppy. Obvious. What the fuck would you be doing in his trailer at seven o’clock at night after a full day of shooting unless you’re fucking him?
But you, worryingly, can’t find it in you to care.
You had lost your mind, that’s what you lost. Because tonight is the night Dieter gets his final gold star. It’s his reward but you’re about to vibrate out of your skin with want.
(It didn’t matter that you hadn’t seen each other in two weeks and by the third day, an ache had settled in behind your breastbone, one that clutched your phone in your hand, and forced your eyes to the screen every minute, checking for a new text message.
He called on day five, by the way.)
Your neck snaps up when you hear voices outside of the trailer. Laughter, his.
You suddenly feel the need to flatline against the floor in case anyone might see you.
Fuck, and how are you supposed to explain yourself if the someone he is with follows him into the trailer? Too many frightfully bad scenarios and you’re rooted to the floor, unable to make a single decision.
The metal latch clinks and his trailer door swings wide open.
“Yeah, man, I’ll catch you tomorrow.”
You can hear a deep, “see ya” from the other side (maybe Daryl from craft services?) and the scrap-metal trailer squeaks, as the lock clicks shut.
Dieter scratches his cheek, surveying the trailer as if some part of him knows something is different, but his conscious mind can’t figure it out.
Until he turns. And nearly leaps out of his skin.
“Fuckin’ – what are you doing in here? Wait – I thought you left town to scope out the new location in San Diego.”
You want to answer him. You know how – open your mouth and tell him the trip’s been delayed for a few days, nothing serious, timeline bullshit – but you can’t.
It’s officially embarrassing.
It’s embarrassing how turned on by Dieter Bravo you are.
Hair in all kinds of directions, skinny cloth bracelet loose around his wrist, he had pushed up the sleeves of his henley shirt, exposing the thickly drawn triangle over his forearm and the clear one near his wrist. His hand with the rings hangs by his side and something inside of you silently whines.
But what really sets you off, what really makes this embarrassing and terrible because there’s no bluffing here, no hiding your cards and folding – nothing you can do to keep spit from flooding your mouth the longer you look –
He’s wearing pants.
Black with loose belt loops. Zipper and all. A silver button sitting between his hips. Fuck. Just like you told him to. Fuck fuckfuck.
You’re briefly aware when he says your name and you have to make a physical effort to tear your eyes away from that glinting silver eye winking up at you.
Dieter’s frowning, knowing silence isn’t really your thing.
“Are you okay? Why are you –,”
As though it had called his name, his gaze drifts from your face to the table between you and him. Where his scorecard rests with four stars in the Good column, and shockingly, none in the Bad.
His mouth parts, eyes going dark, as the realization hits him like a mack truck.
“Delays,” you say suddenly, preemptively, knowing that normal people usually have some sort of preamble before tearing each other’s clothes off. You stand up a bit straighter, tilt your jaw away from him, gaze leveling him from the end of your nose. You have got to get this thing under control. “Frank ran into some scheduling issues with the boat for the lake scene so, until further notice, the trip to San Diego has been delayed.”
He blinks slowly as if he’d been struck over the back of the heat, mouth parted. He has such fucking gorgeous, fucking perfect lips –
“So you’re here?” he asks, his voice low, disbelieving.
You scoop up the scorecard and step over the table, your shoes long since gone. It’s like his vision narrows the closer you come; he is transfixed, gaze on you as if molded at the seams, as you step up to him. You tap him on the chest once with the corner of the scorecard, excitement and nerves and that ache making you tremble despite your confident appearance.
“So I’m here.”
“On the last day of the week.” Words thick, as if all the moisture had been sucked out of his mouth.
“On the last day of the week.”
“When I,” he swallows thickly, “when I should get my reward.”
God, this kind of power trip should not be making you this wet.
You lift your gaze from his chest, taking in his beautifully dumb-struck face.
“You will.” You nod. “And do you know why?”
His breath quickens, lip between his teeth, when you scratch off the final star from the package and stick it to the Good column.
“Because I was a good boy?”
You toss the scorecard behind you, it clatters onto the table, and you cup the back of his hot neck.
“Because you were a very good boy.”
He stumbles back, knees unsteady, when you kiss him. You see his eyes a split second before you close yours and hot electricity swoops down to the pit of your stomach. It would be mortifying if you just fucked him right here and now – he does deserve something extra special – but fuck – you want his whole hand inside of you.
His warm palm slides across your jaw, pulling you into him, and Dieter breathes, deep and long, inhaling as much as he can. You don’t think he realizes that he’s picked you up off the ground with his arm around your back until he opens his eyes, vision hazy and off-center.
“Go lock the door, baby.”
He nods and puts you back down. You slip off your jacket as he bolts the trailer door shut.
Dieter’s mouth drops open when he turns around and sees you on your knees.
Shit, you should have stolen some knee pads from the costume department.
“Really?”
You smile at him because he asks like a kid that just got offered a puppy for Christmas. You reach towards him and he takes your hand, unsteady on weak knees
“For as long and as much as you want.”
You palm him and Dieter groans, mouth-closed at the sensation, the hard ridge of the metal zipper not one he is entirely familiar with. At least, not like this. Beneath the warm press of your palm, you feel him thicken, harden, and you press more, digging your fingers into his thighs. The muscles in his legs tense, his mouth falls open, as his hips cant forward, desperate for the new weight of the zipper.
“And I won’t make you wait, Dieter,” you say, eyes tripping up from where your hand sits, up to the flash of exposed tummy where his pants have ridden down and his shirt slid up, into his almost surprised gaze. “You’ve been very good, wearing this for me, but I want you to learn why it’s important to wear pants with buttons.”
“I-I t-t-thought,” he tries, voice abruptly cutting off when you nuzzle the constrained bulge in his pants. He tries again, eyes slamming shut as if to stifle the sensation of your warm breath so near to where he needs you the most. “I thought i-it was so I d-din’t – didn’t look bad.”
Your face still pressed into his crotch, you briefly massage his calves, then the backs of his thighs. You cup the curve of his ass through the starchy back pockets, which is remarkably prominent now that he’s in something else than baggy sweatpants.
You shake your head, nose dragging along his hot length, against the space between his hip bone and his cock, smiling.
“Baby, you know I like how you look. I always want you to be comfortable.” You look up and meet his eyes. The remaining brown not yet wholly consumed by a blurry, heated darkness softens. Somewhere beneath the hazy, disarming feelings of lust currently filling his head like a bike tire, he’s still your Dieter. Or – well, wait – at least the Dieter you know. The Dieter you have impossibly fun times with. The Dieter who makes you laugh like no one else. The Dieter that can make you fall apart until you’re a gooey, dripping mess and he still manages to stitch you back together. The Dieter that keeps you up at night thinking he might possibly want something more. “But this is so much more fun.”
Grounding your chest against his thighs, holding yourself against him as leverage, you sink your teeth into the corner of the fabric fastening his pants together. Eyes up at him again, you tug and his cock is pushed up against your tits from the force of the pull. He rocks forward, an airy gasp escaping his mouth, and the button gives, the lip of the fabric sliding back as the silver disk slips through the hole. Now your touch is unimpeded by rough fabric when you lean forward and kiss him just below the waistband of his black boxers.
It takes you a second to realize that Dieter Bravo is wearing underwear at all and you smirk up at him.
Something about your gaze makes the tips of his ears go red, as if he had been caught being very naughty. His big hand cups from your jaw to your ear, as if trying to placate you, beg you not to be mad this close to his cock.
“You said I had to dress u-up,” he says, eyes wide and round. God, he’s trying to be so good. One week of the rating system and Dieter Bravo is a trembling mess. Despite your wildly beating heart, you smirk, your thighs shaking briefly at the sudden rush of tenderness you feel for the man in front of you. You hide your own blush by mouthing that open spot just below his tummy and above his cock, wetting the black material with your tongue. Before he can whine about it, you pull back just barely, enough to curl your fingers around both his black underwear and the pants he wore for you. Just as you begin to pull down, you nip the zipper between your teeth and slowly, slowly, rubbing your nose against him, tug the metal teeth apart. His pants open and Dieter groans loudly. He’s already so sensitive.
For a mouthy, ego-driven bastard, he really did have a magnificent cock. Flushed at the base, thickest you’d ever had inside you, and he’s leaking silvery threads from the head. The vein thickly pulsating on the side makes you wonder how he hasn’t passed out from all the blood rushing to his cock.
You lick that vein, that beating pulse, and his knees buckle. His massive hand grips your shoulder and Dieter shakes his head, his mouth wrenching open.
“Please, please — mhmm — don’t tease. I-I can’t – you haven’t – please.”
As if you would be cruel to him. You feel rather dizzy, elated on the idea that you wield this much power over him. That he trusts you with all of him. There it comes again, that arching ache in your chest.
“I’m just trying to get myself ready for you,” you confess quietly. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”
Dieter swallows something large in his throat, panic receding from his eyes. His smile is small and his touch on your cheek is light.
“I know.”
And you weren’t lying. You’d never forget the sound of your jaw popping and cracking the morning after you sucked him off three times before you let him come. Dieter is shockingly big, annoyingly only when he uses it against you or makes you tell him over and over just how big he is before giving it to you. For now, you just want to remind him how very appreciative you are that he gives it to you at all.
Eyes decidedly looking away from the warmth on his face, you squeeze the backs of his thighs as you relax your jaw as much as you can. Above you hear him huff with his mouth shut as you start to take him in, your tongue wetting that soft skin on the underside of his cock. One move forward and you’ve wet him halfway, tongue massaging that vein. Another drop of your head and you’ve taken him completely.
“Fuck,” Dieter murmurs, the hand on your shoulder tightening. Your heart pounds in your chest all the harder when he takes his other hand and knots your hair with his fingers. By the twitching of his thighs beneath your palms, you know it’s taking every ounce of his restraint to not buck his hips forward. “That’s it that’s my girl you take me so fucking good you feel so fucking good.”
The thing about your mouth that is markedly different from your pussy: you can’t release your gag reflex to take more of him. But fuck, you want him to fuck the back of your throat – you just might drown before it happens.
He smells surprisingly clean as your nose inches closer and closer to his skin. With each pull, you slide your tongue down the other side, until it pokes through and licks where you haven’t reached with your mouth yet, inches from his pelvis. He shudders when you use the tip of your tongue.
“Oh my god, your mouth, baby, your mouth.” The words dribble out of his slack mouth, fingers flexing in your hair as if he can mimic pushing your head down further. You pull all the way off him, tongue catching the rim of his cock and he drops his head back against his shoulders and moans. The sound of it makes your pussy throb and you breathe out your nose to stifle your own noises. This is about him. He did good. He was a good boy the whole week.
You replace your mouth with your hand. Sufficiently wet from the way you slobbered all over his cock, you use a fist around his flushed head to smear pre-cum all the way down to the base of him. You brush his balls with your knuckles, just as you fit the tip between your lips, sucking – and Dieter bucks, hard.
“Ngh – shit! S-sorry!” His nails dig into his thighs, eyes squeezing shut as silvery threads spurt out from his cock.
Maybe you’d gone too far with the whole sticker thing and he really thought this was another test. His cheeks are burnt pink, his chest heaving and it’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen.
“Dieter,” you cry softly, gently, comfortingly. He still doesn’t open his eyes, not even when you resume stroking him. You lick the soft skin of his balls and his gasp punches the air out of his lungs, his eyes splitting open. He looks down at you, thighs trembling and you squeeze him gently. Not to edge him or punish him, but to make this last a bit longer for him. “Dieter, take your shirt off and sit down.”
He can’t move fast enough. He yanks the henley over his shoulders, the collar scraping his hair up in wild directions. He goes to sit but his thighs are shaking too much and he just sort of tumbles onto his ass. Smiling, you take your own shirt off, hoping to save this particular bra reveal for another time, but fuck, this time is as good as any. Despite his panting and squirming, his gaze rolls from your face to your tits. Emerald green with black lace, this is far too nice for a work bra and it properly communicates to him that you were going to fuck him whether or not he was going to get that final gold star. The realization is visible as it crosses his mind, bleeding hungry black in his eyes.
You take off his pants all the way, before sliding your own jeans down and to the floor. His roving gaze catches the matching panties and the noise in his throat is deep, like a smothered grunt.
“Now, I’m going to suck you off no matter what,” you say as you crawl in between his legs, before leaning back and sitting on your heels. You smooth your hands down his thighs, near his red, stark cock, but not touching. Dieter’s breathing hitches in anticipation, not sure where to put his hands or his gaze. “But I want you to answer one question for me first.”
He nods rapidly, spreading his knees further for you as if to remind you there’s other places he could be fucked.
“Why did you think I was going to punish you today?”
You’ve asked this question paraphrased a dozen times, usually when you both know the answer: he came without asking, or he came by himself, or any of the dozen reasons Dieter liked to push your buttons, only for you to break him as far as he can go. But today, there’s no sultry edge, no double meaning. Your question is sincere and it takes him a moment to understand. He swallows as his eyebrows tug down on his forehead, something vulnerable flashing in his eyes before a look of uncertainty crosses his face.
“We’ve never had sex just to have sex.” He says it like a question. He settles into the floor one hand going behind his head, the linear tattoo on his forearm dark like a third eye. “Not that I’m complaining but it’s always a competition, or because we’re bored, or you wanna work out some personal shit because of the costume department. I know this is my reward, but I figured there had to be some kinda catch to it.”
You frown deeper than him. “There’s no way we haven’t had normal sex.”
Something like a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Define normal sex.”
Now it’s your turn to go warm across the cheeks. “I mean, like . . . outside of . . . our roles. Where there aren’t roles at all. It’s just . . .”
You break off for the third time, the look in his eyes forcing you to snap your mouth shut before you say something incriminating like, just us.
Dieter shakes his head. “No, we haven’t.”
“You’re telling me in six months, that’s never happened once?” You adjust on your heels and cross your arms. “It’s not like you can remember every time we’ve had sex.”
“I do.” This, coming from him, is not a question. It’s an irrefutable statement that you don’t seem able to refute with a no you don’t. There is no room for arguing.
Driving right on through the heat of your cheeks, that ache returning, you shake your head. “Then doesn’t that get old? Having to play games every single time?”
Dieter pouts as he thinks, eyes on the roof of the trailer. “Sometimes, but I don’t mind. Not enough to want to stop fucking you.”
“So, after a week of nothing, you were totally willing to let me edge you within an inch of your life? Let me treat you badly?”
Dieter smirks and it suddenly feels like you’re the one under him. “Sure, but you like me too much to keep it going for too long. And you like watching me come.”
Your teeth grind together at this very bold accusation, your entire face blazing. Weren’t you supposed to be domming him today??
His feet slide out beside you and Dieter is the very picture of arrogance, his arm still tucked behind his head. He drums his fingers on his stomach.
“If it makes you feel any better,” he says, the smirk around his mouth soft, “I like you too.”
It doesn’t. Not really. Not when his words spear through you hot and hard, landing in your chest like a landmine. Fuck.
Fuck.
“Oh, so this is all for me, then?” You ignore the fact that you’ve slipped back into your role in active defiance of talking about this anymore, and crawl forward until your forearms frame his head. That teasing contentment fades from his face as he watches you, eyes following a line that only he can see from your nose, lips, chin, throat and tits. Your hair slips off your shoulder, darkening the light on his face when you straddle his waist. “But what about you? Don’t you want to come?”
He nods, slower than before, but only to keep from breaking eye contact with you. Light as feathers, Dieter trails his fingers up the backs of your thighs, over the curve of your ass, to settle into your hips. His mouth parts in anticipation, pink tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.
“I do,” he says, rolling his neck as if he can see more of you this way. “I really fuckin’ do.”
“What a coincidence.” You shift down, dragging the wet patch on the emerald green underwear beneath your drooling cunt, shift until it slides across his half-hard cock and Dieter’s hands dig into your hips, a groan breaking off in the back of his throat. His eyes slip half-closed, a thick, smoky black enveloping that beautiful brown. “So do I.”
Grinding down over so slightly, you roll your hips once more – Dieter tenses, his hands easing to the tops of your thighs – before sitting back on his knees.
“Now relax, baby, you’ve earned it.”
You drop forward over his hips, open your mouth, and slurp him up between your lips.
The noise that comes out of his chest is broken, knocked loose, split down the middle. You take him all in one, down until your nose is tickled by his coarse hairs, and you swallow. He is immediately, instantly, rock hard and dribbling. You swallow again and his hands dive into your hair, knotting the strands around his fingers, the way a rider draws up the reins of his horse. He goads you down with just gentle pressure, needy and demanding all at once, and you take him, and you take him, and you take him until the blunt head prods the back of your throat and you gag, throat constricting, and Dieter’s eyes roll back in his head.
“Shit, that’s too fucking good.”
You breathe out your nose, pulling up just enough to keep him off your reflex, but instead you hollow out your cheeks and suck, tongue pressing up against him and around that hammering vein.
And here, here comes the sound you’ve wanted from him all night –
Dieter whines, high and keening, his neck straining, your skull pinching from where he pulls. Between your thighs, the emerald green is completely ruined, buffed out dark in the wet.
The vein throbs again and you nearly drop onto your elbows, not caring if you choke or drown or sputter, you want him in your mouth, you want that salty, gooey taste of him that you find you can’t seem to lick up enough. You want him inside you –
With a grunt that morphs into a groan as it rises up his chest, he tugs hard enough on your hair that the pain splits your mouth open, head tugged back enough that he slips out of you, a thread of pre-cum from your puffy lips to the tip of his blunt head.
You lied. This wasn’t entirely for him.
You can feel your lips twist into a snarl. “Dieter, what are you –,”
He kisses you with such a force, that noise in his chest is transferred to yours, a collision that sparks a causal nexus and his own desperation bleeds with your own. The kiss is messy, dizzying, spit and pre-cum smearing across swollen lips and wet tongues. He twists his fingers deeper into your hair, as if he can consume you through the bowl of your skull.
Your name is something that tumbles, falls, drips from him, his mouth tilted a fraction of an inch away from yours. Eyes dark, full, a beast that howls for the moon in your eyes.
He’s going to fuck your brains out on the floor of this rickety-ass trailer.
Dieter tugs you forward, drags you onto your knees over him as he settles beneath you. Your fingers knock with his in a fight to reach your panties first, to shove them down your hips and thighs, get them to the floor.
Dieter’s flushed, pupils dark, big hands grappling against the weight of you as he pulls you onto him. You are so aroused, so sunken into the smoke of lust, you go as you are moved, his cock smearing apart your wet pussy. Dieter sits up, eyes locking onto where you’ve nearly become a single creature, and then he hesitates.
Sanity seems to ring his bell, for just a moment. Without waiting, he sucks two fingers into his mouth, coating them with his spit, and you can see what he’s about to do just before he moves. You shake your head, knees aching from carrying your weight against the flat trailer floor, and sit up off him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.
“Don’t need it,” you mutter before licking into his mouth. He drops his head back to let you sink your tongue between his lips. Both hands wrapped around his jaw, you thumb his earring and he grunts out the side of his mouth. “I want –,”
His big hands settle and it’s like he dropped a thousand pound weight between your ribs. You drop, right onto him, his cock forcibly shoving you apart in a single thrust. Dieter barks out a moan, his hands clutching your spine, teeth going for your shoulder to muffle anything else that threatens to escape him.
You swear your nerves are on fire.
He always takes his time with you, for your benefit, and his. He can be maddening and incessant and demanding, right up until this part, the part where he could actually hurt you. Right then, he waits. Lets you come to him. Let you take as much as you want and he holds you tight.
But this, this is you taking all you want and then some.
In the split second you allow for your bodies to recognize the give and the take, the swell and the invasion, you meet his gaze.
No roles. No games. No landmines.
Exposure.
Blistering and brittle.
Safety.
You curl your toes underneath you, grip his shoulders, and slide up on an inhale. On an exhale, you thrust down and you don’t know who cries out louder.
Dieter pulls you to him, arm banded around your back, the other to balance as he leans back to meet your downward strokes with his upward thrusts. His fingers pinch the clasp of your bra and the straps slide off your shoulders, your frantic bouncing knocking those emerald cups loose.
“Oh, yeah, oh fuck yeah.” He mouths at your collarbone, tonguing the sweat that blooms across your skin. Your short huffs have your chest trembling, a shudder disrupting your breath when he uses the blunt edge of his teeth against the soft curve of your breast. His nose against your skin, he turns his head and licks your nipple into his mouth. He sucks, licks, your rapid rise and fall catching your sensitive peak against the tops and bottoms of his teeth. He uses the barest hint of pressure and your back arches. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, repeating that same pattern with his tongue, while his fingers flick your hardened bud.
You think you’re going to melt, fracture and ooze into this hot pool of pleasure that hums between your legs.
“Fuck, Dieter,” your own voice is unrecognizable, breathy and high, cut short every time his hips meet yours in a harsh slap, “I can’t –,”
He rubs up against something truly devastating inside of you and immediately your legs give out. You topple into him, arms around his neck, nose pressed up against his jaw. You feel his overheated skin, a balm, a solidifying force, against your cheek. The whirling inferno in your head soothes. A drop of sweat from his hairline trails down by your eye and you lick it.
“Make me come, Dieter,” you whisper for him, of him, beg in a way that only he can hear. You nuzzle his earring and he keens. “Please – I need it – n-n-need you.”
Open-mouthed, breath hot, flush down to his chest, he slithers the hand against your back between your warm bodies and finds your clit. Drags his thumb across it as his hips pound up into you – you can’t hear what he says in your ear, the edge you’re dangling over loud and pulsing – and then there’s a softness against your throat.
The white spark between your thighs erupts and you come so hard you scream. A release. Controlled and contained brightness now spilling out everywhere, you can feel it as you soak his lap. It drips and winds down, and it drunkenly slides off you. Finally, you curl into him, a muddled tingle radiating out across your nerves.
You sink into your skin again and hear him, still whispering, still talking.
“You’re so fucking beautiful when you come it’s okay baby I’ve got you I’ve got you I’m here – I’m gonna – g-gonna – oh, shit,”
His hips thrust up one more time before a full body shudder yanks his words and the air right out of his mouth. You melt as his cum floods your insides, the warm pulses intoxicating in the place he so forcefully claimed for his own. His shoulders curved towards you, his hand pinches the knot of your spine as if to steady himself, palm scalding against your skin. In your exhaustion, your sweaty forehead falls against his.
He doesn’t seem to mind.
Seconds mold into minutes, minutes into maybe hours then days.
Dieter’s trembling elbow finally weakens and with his arm around your back, he tips you both backwards.
His cock rubs up inside of you in a new way and your cunt clenches involuntarily. You both groan when his cum leaks out of you, squeezed out by the contraction. You shift your hips to lay fully on him, and his cock slides out, but his arm around you remains.
It remains long after your breathing settles, long after the sweat dries and your exposed skin grows cold. The longer you lay together, the more you feel he’s going to start stroking you, touching you in a way that a fuck buddy shouldn’t. But he doesn’t. He keeps you close but doesn’t move.
The feeling, the ache in your chest. It’s soothed and hastened by the beating of his heart beneath yours, your ear lying flat against his chest. It beats so loudly for you.
For some unfathomable reason, you glance up at the window. It’s dark out, the sun set and gone. For all you know, you two might be the only two people on the entire lot.
“Dieter.” His name sticks in your mouth. “Dieter, I –,”
“Five stars?”
You blink, lifting your head for the first time in ages, sweat on his skin almost suctioning your ear to his chest. He’s grinning, curls matted and damp against his forehead.
He reaches up to the table behind him and snags that stupid bingo card, along with that packet of shiny gold star stickers.
This feeling, you can contain it.
For now.
Smirking down at him, you peel off one of the bigger stars and with your thumb, you press it into the center of his forehead.
“Five stars, Dieter. Five star dick.”
His smile widens.
#dieter bravo#dieter bravo x f!reader#dieter bravo x reader#dieter bravo x you#dieter bravo fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#the bubble fanfic#the bubble 2016#the bubble fic#the bubble fanfiction#pedro pascal#dieter bravo fic#dieter bravo x female reader#dieter bravo x oc#pedro pascal character#pedro pascal character fanfic#the bubble
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I Hate You | One
(So I've decided to finally start posting my works from ao3 on here eek. Here's a cheeky lil one shot about a very angry Noah and reader who hates his guts, enjoy x
My ao3 is https://archiveofourown.org/users/xX_like_a_villain_Xx
Also let me know if you want to be tagged in anything upcoming posts, I have so many WIPs)
CW: smut, angry sex, fingering, p in v unprotected sex, reader slaps Noah, use of derogatory terms, all around a good old hate bang
18+ MDNI | Noah Sebastian x Reader
”Oh fuck off, Noah. Mr “I’m a big rockstar, I can’t do anything wrong”, you make me sick.” You huffed, throwing the t-shirt you had just folded back into the box of merch. “Always on my fucking case.”
Noah stared at you with fiery eyes, clenching his jaw. “You know what, if your brother wasn’t my best friend and drummer of this fucking band, you wouldn’t even get this opportunity.” He pointed, stepping closer.
”I fucking wish I never met you, asshole.”
That was it for Noah, he stormed out of the green room, the door slamming loudly.
Noah Sebastian, always making sure your day was ruined. You had no idea what his problem was but since Folio, your older brother, invited you on tour as a merch girl, he had been insufferable. Sure, every time you saw the guy you’d end up in some kind of altercation but it had become significantly worse since you stepped foot on the bus on the first day of tour. You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears when you placed your bags in your bunk. There was just something about him that pissed you off, his cocky attitude, his stupid hair, the stupid smirk that he always wore- he just really fucking ground your gears.
You groaned, throwing your hair into a claw grip before stacking the boxes on top of each other, ready to take them down to the merch area.
”Who pissed in Noah’s cereal this morning? He was kicking up a storm outside.” Jolly chuckled as he entered the green room.
You laughed. “Thanks for the great idea, I’ll add that to my list of shit I wanna do to him.”
“What are you even fighting about now?” He asked, throwing himself down onto the worn leather couch.
”Fuck knows, I just want this tour to be over so I don’t have to see him.”
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
“Where the fuck is Noah? It’s half an hour until showtime!” Matt was fretting, searching behind amps backstage like the 6’3” man would be behind them.
You rolled your eyes. It was always like this, fight with Noah then he disappears until the last second just to make everyone stressed. You put your phone away in your back pocket and groaned.
”I’ll find him, just stick to whatever you're doing.” You patted Matt’s shoulder.
”Is that a good idea, sis?” Nick raised an eyebrow, fed up with your arguing.
You shrugged at your brother. “You have shit to be doing, I’ll be fine.”
You weren’t fine, anxiety bubbled low in your stomach as you searched around the venue for the singer who was nowhere to be found. Fuck, where the hell would he be? You sighed in defeat after searching everywhere inside, pushing the back door to the venue open. The sky was turning dark, the crisp autumn air hitting your bare arms making you shiver as you pulled the sleeves down.
You wandered around the buses, looking for any sign of him, even searching their bus to no avail. You stepped back outside, losing your footing on the step, almost plummeting to the ground when strong arms caught you. You looked down at the inked skin that gripped your waist and jolted away, looking up into fiery coffee coloured eyes.
”Where the fuck have you been? Everyone’s been looking for you!” You snapped, folding your arms over your chest.
Noah chuckled darkly. “It doesn’t matter.”
You could smell the hint of whiskey on his breath as he spoke, towering over you. “Noah, have you been drinking?”
”Why does it matter?” You could now hear the slight slur in his voice.
You sighed. “Fuck, Noah. You have to perform in less than half an hour.”
“Jesus Christ, Y/N it was two drinks.”
You bit your tongue. “Okay, fine, whatever. Just get back in there.”
You turned to walk away, getting halfway towards the doors when you heard him say something under his breath, making your blood boil.
”What was that?” Your jaw clenched as you stormed back towards him.
He smirked. “That skirt makes you look like a hooker.” His eyes roamed down your body, stopping at the black miniskirt and fishnets that covered your legs.
Your open palm met his cheekbone before you could even think. The sound of the slap ricocheting off the buses. He stood there, stunned as you gritted your teeth in anger, your hand burning from the hit.
Before another word could be said, you were pushing your way back inside the venue, his dark eyes watching you.
“After tonight, I’m going the fuck home.” You yelled as you stomped past everyone to the merch area.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
Thankfully Noah showed up for his set, cheek still red from your hit and you took some kind of pleasure in knowing that you were the reason for it, although the girls in the crowd swooned over him even more and it made you want to vomit. If you had to hear one more word about how gorgeous he was, you were sure you were going to flip the table.
The venue was finally cleared out and you exhaled the breath you didn’t even realise you had been holding. Busying yourself with putting the merch away was the only thing keeping your mind off the bullshit. You needed to look for plane tickets home so you rushed the job.
”You’re not serious about going home, right?” Your brother picked up a hoodie, folding it into a box.
You chuckled darkly. “If I spend one more second around that man things are gonna get ugly and I don’t think anyone wants that. It’s better if I go home.”
Nick sighed. “What if I talk to him?”
You looked up at your brother who’s eyebrows were furrowed in concern as he worked. “Nick, it’s been years and nothing has changed. If we stay around each other for one more second, we will end up ripping each other apart. Let’s just get this done so we can go back to the hotel and I can get a plane home tomorrow.”
”Fine.”
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
“Go on in, I need to grab a few things.” You told everyone. You were parked at the hotel and you just needed a few minutes of alone time before the others forced you to the hotel bar to say goodbye. You were adamant on going home no matter how much they asked you to stay. You tidied up the bus, knowing it would be a mess when you leave, it’s the least you could do when you were abandoning them for the rest of the tour.
Your mind reeled over the events of the night, replaying Noah’s words and his face when you slapped him. He deserved it, how dare he call you a hooker. You were still fuming about it, seething.
”I heard that you're leaving for LA in the morning?” You didn’t even hear the bus door open and the anger flowing through your veins only grew hotter, burning like poison through your body.
You slammed the trash bag down and turned to him. “Yeah, I am. Is that a problem?”
He sat on the small table, crossing his arms. “No, actually I’m quite excited about it.”
Your eyes rolled in frustration. “Great, fantastic, now fuck off.”
Silence was thick in the air. He didn’t move, he just watched you angrily throw trash into the plastic bag. You couldn’t stand his presence, it was like heavy fog in your mind and you were ready to see red.
”What’s your problem, Noah?” You finally span around, holding your hands out in exasperation.
He huffed a laugh. “I just think you’re the worst person to ever exist, is all.” He shrugged. “You have a weak slap too, it felt like being kissed by a butterfly.”
A scoff left your lips, your fingertips twitching. “Shut up, just shut the fuck up Noah.”
He smirked. “Why? Gonna hit me again?”
”I said shut up.” Your patience was wearing thin.
”You should get some lessons, I know a guy.”
“Shut the fuck up!”
He cocked his head to the side and pouted. “Oh no, is Little Miss Perfect getting frustrated, hm?”
That was it. You marched forward and gripped the front of his hoodie, breathing heavily through your nose. “Listen here, I don’t know what your fucking problem is but can you please just fuck off and leave me alone. I’ll be gone tomorrow, I won’t hang around when we’re home, we won’t have to see each other.” You growled.
His whiskey eyes turned almost black as he stared down at you, his lips curling into a sick smile. “What a shame, I was enjoying this game of cat and mouse.”
You could’ve screamed in his face, grip tightening on his hoodie. “I hate you.”
”Say it again.” His inked fingers wrapped around your wrist. He stood, towering above you, nostrils flaring.
”I hate you.”
He flipped the both of you over, pressing your back against the table, looming over you as if you were prey. You should’ve been scared but your thighs clenched when he stared down at you, chest heaving with anger.
“Say it again, Y/N.” He growled, face inches from yours.
You gulped, face reddening at the closeness and his dominating demeanour. “I fucking hate you.” You spat.
His lips urgently pressed to yours, taking your breath away as he kissed you with so much fire you thought you might die. The hand on his hoodie moved to his chestnut hair, grabbing it at the roots hard. He gasped into your mouth, lifting you up onto the table. His tongue slipped past your lips, sliding against yours, earning a soft groan from you.
He pulled away to pull the Bad Omens long sleeve from your body, eyes travelling down to your bare chest where you had decided to not wear a bra and he practically whined. His hot lips trailed down your chest, his large palm gripping your waist. Your eyes rolled back when his mouth wrapped around the hardened peak of your nipple, your head falling back against your shoulders. His tongue lapped against it, dark eyes looking up at you through long lashes and you were done for.
“Noah-“ you gasped when his hand trailed between your thighs, pushing them apart.
He huffed against your sensitive skin as his hands pushed your tiny skirt up and found the fishnets underneath, tearing a hole in the crotch. You went to protest, to push him away but his fingers gliding against the wet mess on your underwear had the words dying on your tongue.
”Fuck, do you get off on hating me, huh?” He kissed back up to your jaw, hot breath against the flesh of your throat. When you didn’t answer, too lost in the feeling of his hand against your clothed core he gripped your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. “Answer me.”
His fingers slid underneath the black lace, slipping between your folds to gather the arousal and you gasped. He quickly pulled his fingers out, holding them in front of you, showing you just how wet you were.
His fingers gripped your cheeks harder. “I said, do you get off on hating me, Y/N?”
You nodded, his fingers pressing against your lips. You opened your mouth, licking your sweet arousal from his fingertips and he groaned at the sensation, hips bucking into you. You slid your tongue against them, sucking the digits as far as you could into your throat, spit travelling down onto his palm. He was panting over you, his hard cock straining against his shorts, pressing against your throbbing cunt.
It was all too much. Your face was burning up, body yearning for his touch. You hated him so much yet all you wanted was for him to take you for all you have, to leave you a whimpering mess.
As if he could read your thoughts, he pulled his soaking fingers from your mouth, eyes never leaving yours as he ran them down your bare chest, down to where you needed him most. He tore the thin black lace of your underwear out of the way and trailed his hand between your folds, circling your clit at a torturous pace, basking in the sounds that left your lips.
It felt like hell how slow he was being, riling you up, frustrating you even more than he usually did. You needed more and your hips bucked, begging for friction but he wouldn’t let up on the torture, smirking down at you.
“What do you need, hm?” He pouted.
”Fuck-“ you whined. “Please.”
”Please what?” His long inked fingers pressed against your entrance before retreating back to circle your clit.
”I need more, please.”
”Look at you begging like a needy little slut.” A sly grin danced across his lips as he finally pressed a slim finger inside you, the wet sound filling the quiet bus.
Your mouth gaped open, back arching when he curled his fingers into the spot that had your vision blurring. His cock twitched at the feeling of you clenching against his hand and he added another finger, fucking you fast exactly where you needed him.
You were on cloud nine, the feeling of his fingers inside you sending you into a frenzy of whines and moans. You shouldn’t have enjoyed it the way you did, it should’ve felt wrong, it shouldn’t have been happening at all with how much you fucking hated him but all you wanted to do was cum around his fingers.
His free hand moved to the back of your head, gathering your hair in his palm to force you to look at him. His eyes were pits of darkness and lust, pupils blown wide, staring at you like he wanted to devour you. He could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers and he growled, pulling you into a filthy kiss. Your tongues slid around each other in an unholy dance of need and desperation.
You were close, the tightness in the pit of your stomach becoming too much to handle. Your moans were turning into incoherent rambling and you needed release.
”Fuck, I-I’m gonna, ah!” Before you could, he pulled his fingers from you, pushing his shorts down just enough to free his cock, achingly hard and leaking precum.
”Are you gonna show me how much you hate me and cum around my cock?” His hand in your hair gripped harder, making your eyes roll back as the tip of his cock slid between your folds, pressing against your clit.
“Please, please, I need it.” You whimpered.
”You fucking disgust me.” He gritted, pushing inside, filling you so perfectly.
Your eyes met his when he started to fuck into you, hard and fast, the head of his cock pressing against your cervix, making your scream. It felt so good, you didn’t know how you would ever recover from him ruining you. You were so fucked out and cock drunk that you didn’t care about the noises that left you, mixing with the sound of skin slapping on skin and the wet sound of him rutting into your pussy.
He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, his hand on the back of your head as leverage, cock sliding in and out of you so wonderfully. Once again that coil in your stomach pulled taught, threatening to snap. You clenched around him and he grunted, needing more of you. He pushed as deep as he could until you squealed in a heavenly mix of pain and pleasure.
“Do you hate me?” He growled, pressing his forehead against yours.
”So fucking much.” You whined.
”Tell me you hate me.” He was panting, so close to the edge.
His free hand slid between your bodies and found you clit, rubbing it quickly with his thrusts, making you see stars.
”Fuck! I hate you. I hate you. I hate y-“ with a scream you came around him, soaking him, legs rattling as you clutched his arms. You were completely out of your mind, fucked out, overstimulated as he fucked you through the best orgasm you had ever experienced.
Your walls pulsed around him, sending into his own climax, filling you to the brim with his cum, your name leaving his mouth like a mantra, a forbidden song.
You were both panting, catching your breath. Silence filled the bus when he pulled out, tucking himself back into his underwear while you lay there on the table, his cum dripping out of you. You heard him go into the bathroom to get tissue and to your surprise he cleaned you up, wiping away the mess he made.
There was an air of awkwardness when you redressed yourself, digging around for a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that you threw on haphazardly. Noah was cleaning the table when you turned to him.
You cleared your throat. “I-uh, I’m going to find the others.”
Noah scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah.”
You nodded, turning to the door.
”Hey wait!” You span back around to see Noah approaching, pulling you into a searing kiss. He pulled back after a minute with furrowed eyebrows. “Don’t go home, yeah?”
You smirked, lifting you hand to brush his hair out of his face. “Remember that I still hate you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fuck you.”
He pulled your lips back to his again.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
3 days later…
”Leave before I tear your fucking throat out.” You screamed, throwing a t-shirt at the smug brown eyed idiot.
”You should’ve got on that plane back home, I can’t fucking deal with this!” Noah stormed away.
”Don’t come back!” You yelled down the hall, stomping your feet towards the couch where Jolly and Bryan were sitting.
”I’m surprised you didn’t go. He’s not gonna change you know.” Jolly nudged your shoulder when you huffed.
“Why did you stay anyway?” Bryan asked.
”I can’t leave you guys short staffed, can I?” You smiled, wrapping your arms around their shoulders. “Anyway, I gotta go find Matt.” You stood up, picking up your phone on the way, smiling at the message on the screen. You sauntered out of the room.
”Do you think she’s fucking Noah?” Jolly questioned.
Bryan chuckled. “Totally.”
#noah sebastian fanfiction#noah sebastian#bad omens#bad omens cult#noah sebastian x reader#noah sebastian smut#bad omens fic
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