#wicked smut

[alrawabi-imagines]

Pink goes well with green

~~SMUT~~ @shynightwerewolf

You had been dating both  for months,you were the it throuple of the school. You loved your girlfriends,they gave you everything you could've possibly wanted and more. You had always wanted to do something special,special for them and had just thought of the perfect idea. They were both in your shared room,it was a bit later when you returned to your room. 

"There you are,I missed you" Glinda hugged you,picking you up and twirling you around.

"Glinda,put her down. You're gonna make her dizzy." Elphaba stopped her and Glinda put you down. "And she's been gone for a couple of hours," Elphaba added.

"Yes,but I did miss both of you"

"We missed you too,honey," Glinda said as she and Elphaba sandwiched you in between them. 

"Why were you gone for so long? We've been worried." Elphaba questioned.

"I was just taking care of something" you put your arm around Glinda and turned your head to look at Elphaba who was behind you. 

"What were you taking care of?" Elphaba asked with an eyebrow raised,she was being a little suspicious and was worried it might be something bad.Glinda leaned into your touch,she loved your cuddles and attention. Her head immediately resting in between your boobs,using you as a pillow.Glinda just looked so adorable,nuzzling her head into your chest,her hair was messy and her face was red with blush. Elphaba stood there with a smirk. 

"You know I'll want cuddles too,right?" Elphaba pointed out.

"Of course,but first I need a kiss" you moved to press your back against her chest. Elphaba wrapped her arms around you,resting her head on your shoulder. 

"How can I say no to that?" Elphaba smiled,kissing your neck softly. Slowly making her way up to your lips. Elphaba smiled against your skin before moving her head and slowly moving up the side of your neck to your lips,pressing her plump green lips against yours. You kissed her,still holding Glinda against your body. As you kissed Elphaba you licked her bottom lip,asking to be let in. Elphaba opened her mouth,letting you slip your tongue in. She let out a soft moan,pulling you closer to her. You wondered how long it would take for her to feel your tongue piercing,that you specifically got for her. Elphaba froze for a moment as your tongue passed by hers,before her eyes went wide as she felt the metal of your piercing. After a moment,Elphaba resumed kissing you,now more desperate than before. Glinda looked up at you and Elphaba,jealous that she wasn't the one being kissed like that. She tugged on your shirt to get your attention,wanting to be kissed too. But Elphaba didn't let you pull away from her. Elphaba's grip on you stayed firm,if anything she pulled you more into her,not wanting to break the kiss. Glinda tugged on your shirt again,more desperate this time. You let your hands roam her body to try and calm her. Hoping to buy some time until Elphaba let go. Glinda's eyes closed as she enjoyed your touch,her body relaxing under your hands while Elphaba's grip stayed tight. Elphaba refused to let you go,her tongue explored your mouth with every moment the kiss went on. Glinda tugged on your shirt again,her face pouting at the fact that you weren't giving her any attention. 

"Hey,don't leave me out." Glinda whined,looking up at you with puppy dog eyes. Elphaba broke the kiss,separating your lips from hers before smirking at Glinda. 

"Jealous, Glinda?" Elphaba teased,knowing that Glinda wanted your attention too.

"Hmph,yes I am. You're hogging her all to yourself." Glinda pouted,crossing her arms and turning her head away. Elphaba chuckled at how adorable Glinda was being. Elphaba smirked knowing that now Glinda would be surprised with your new piercing. Glinda glanced at Elphaba before she turned to look at you,she was still a little angry for not being given any attention,but her expression softened when her eyes met yours. She gently took your face in her hands and pulled you down to her level,planting her lips firmly on yours. You kissed her back,sliding your tongue into her mouth. She jumped away from you at the unfamiliar feeling. Glinda's eyes quickly widened,feeling the cold metal of your tongue ring. She separated herself from you,her face bright red at the realization. Elphaba just chuckled at her reaction,finding it funny and adorable. You chuckled softly too. Glinda pouted once again,not believing that you'd go and surprise her like that. 

"You're mean, you didn't even say anything about you getting your tongue pierced!" Glinda said,lightly hitting your shoulder as Elphaba laughed even harder.

"It was meant to be a surprise" you explained

"Well it was a surprise, a very unpleasant one." Glinda complained,crossing her arms and looking away. Elphaba wrapped her arms around your waist,holding your back against her chest.

"I figured" you chuckled. "That's why I got this for Elphaba. I figured you would prefer these anyway" you unzipped your top,taking off your bra which was both pink and green,their colors. They'd often argue about whose color you'd wear so you compromised by wearing both. A took everything off to show off the two new piercings on your chest.One pink and one green. Both of their eyes widened,taking in the sight of your naked chest. Both of them stared at the green and pink piercings,the surprise silencing their bickering. Elphaba just stared,mouth agape while Glinda's face was as pink as her cheeks. Glinda swallowed,unable to find words to speak as she continued to stare at your chest. Elphaba took a moment to recollect herself before she managed to regain her composure. A smirk appeared on her face as her eyes darted over your body,her possessive nature coming out. They both ogled you,admiring the jewelry and your body. It wasn't long before they were both on either side of you,hands moving and touching every part of you that they could. You were once again sandwiched between the two women.They were everywhere, hands roaming your body as they both pressed against you. Glinda's lips were on your neck,leaving hickies on your skin while Elphaba placed kisses down your shoulders. Glinda's hands cupped your boobs,touching her favorite part of you. Elphaba's hands went across your stomach,moving with a much more firm touch than Glinda's. Elphaba's fingers moved lower,tracing the edge of your pants.

Glinda gently squeezed your chest, enjoying the feeling of your skin under her hands. She planted a trail of kisses along your collarbone,leaving a plethora of faint hickies. You threw your head back on Elphaba's shoulder,as her hands went further down making you moan. She gently bit the skin of your neck,leaving an even darker mark than the ones Glinda left. Her hand drifted even further down,her touch making you shiver with pleasure. Elphaba smiled as she heard a moan leave your mouth,taking pleasure in the sounds caused by her touch.You moaned louder. Glinda bit down on your skin, adding another small love bite to the plethora of marks that now decorated your neck. Elphaba's hand continued to move lower, now just under the waistband of your pants. Both of the girls were pleased with your noises, enjoying the sight of your body shuddering from their touch.

"Just take them off" you managed to string together in between moans and kisses. Elphaba and Glinda heard your breathless words and quickly got to work,both of them eagerly taking your pants down along with your underwear, throwing them somewhere on the floor. Glinda planted kisses up your inner thighs, taking extra time on the skin near your core. Elphaba attacked your neck and chest, her tongue swirling around the cool metal of your piercings. They both paused, taking a moment to admire your body before moving on. They both began trailing kisses along every part of your body possible. Glinda moved closer and closer to you,one of your legs over Glinda's shoulder. Elphaba was behind you,her lips on your neck,leaving more of her own marks. She held you tight against her body, pressing her chest against your back. Glinda had her head between your thighs, planting hickeys on your skin. She held your hips against her,not allowing you to squirm away. You put your hand on Glinda's head. She let out a small hum, signaling to you that she wanted more, she wanted you to hold her still when she found the right spot. Glinda loved when you put your hand on her head, it always gave her a sense of purpose while also reassuring her that she was doing a good job. Slowly your hand moved down the back of her head,pushing her until her nose touched your skin. She ran her tongue against your core, wanting to taste you. Her nose pressed against you when she made direct contact with where you wanted her. Glinda let out a soft moan when your hand pushed down,her breath fanning across your skin. She knew what you wanted and wanted to give it to you. The feeling of her tongue on you made you arch your back, a loud moan leaving your mouth. Elphaba was behind you,holding you still as Glinda worked, pressing small kisses to your neck as she saw your reaction. You quickly came undone by her tongue. She let you ride out your high before stopping to let you catch your breath. Elphaba chuckled as she saw how breathless you were, knowing that Glinda's talents had done her work. Glinda pulled her head away once you had reached your high, her eyes staring up and looking at you with pride. Elphaba still had you held tight against her,letting you rest against her chest as you tried to recuperate. Elphaba also smiled, enjoying the sight of you tired and still trying to catch your breath. They loved it when you were breathless like this, knowing that they were the reason for your exhaustion. Glinda made her way up your body until her face was even with yours. She was pleased with herself, smiling with pride at the state she left you in.

"Don't you think it's unfair that I'm the only one undressed right now?" You asked,smirking.

"You're right," Elphaba admitted, her face turning a slight hue of green. "We both should take them off to make it fair." Glinda and Elphaba both blushed at the realization that you were right, they were still fully clothed. They both looked away, embarrassed with the fact that you had to point it out. In a swift flurry they undressed and were tangled up with you on Glinda's bed,which was big enough to fit all of you and then some. All three of you were pressed against each other, skin touching as you all relished in the feeling. Everyone was completely bare as you all were tangled up in a pile on the bed. It was warm and comfortable, but not cramped. The bed was more than large enough to fit the three of you, although Glinda had insisted on the size. Their hands and eyes roamed your body. Every part of you was touched, caressed, and ogled over by them. Glinda and Elphaba’s hands roamed and squeezed as they took time to appreciate your body. Their eyes moved across your body, taking in the sight of you in your entirety. Elphaba and Glinda both took turns kissing and marking your skin, leaving no spot untouched by their lips. They made it their duty to caress and admire every inch of you, wanting to commit every detail to memory.

"So like the piercings?" You asked both of them.

"Very, very much..." Elphaba voiced her agreement, her eyes raking over your chest once more.

"Yeah, we like them," Glinda said in a tone that was almost sultry. They both hummed as they took in the sight, nodding their heads in approval. Glinda and Elphaba both took a moment to look down at your chest, their eyes roaming over the jewelry in your skin. Glinda's hand made their way up to your chest, her fingers gently tracing the metal as she let out a hum of appreciation. Elphaba's eyes followed Glinda's hands, her gaze lingering on your chest as she admired the view. They couldn't keep their eyes away from your chest, their glances constantly moving over to the new piercings. Each piercing colored after each one of them. Glinda couldn't keep her eyes off the pink one, appreciating the color. Elphaba was more focused on the green piercing, her gaze constantly going back to look at it. They both liked how the jewelry was to represent them, it was like you were wearing a permanent token of love from both of them. Both of them loved how you looked with their colors decorating your skin, marking you as theirs. Glinda's hand moved up to gently touch the pink jewelry, her fingers running across the surface as she looked at it. Elphaba's gaze was fixated on the green piercing, her eyes glued to the piece of jewelry. They loved the idea that you had gone and gotten something special done just to symbolize them. You watched Glinda trace the metal. Elphaba, who was next to you, watched Glinda as well. Her eyes never left the blonde's hands as she watched her touch you. Her eyes were focused on the pink jewelry, as she had a look of appreciation and awe in her eyes. You watched as Glinda's touch moved across the jewelry, her movements soft and gentle as she ran her fingers over the metal.

"So,should we go for round 2?"  Glinda, not willing to let Elphaba be the first to comment, quickly chimed in with her own answer. 

"I don't think either of us would object to that idea..." Glinda replied, her eyes scanning over your body as she thought about it. Elphaba also agreed, 

"Absolutely, it's still not morning yet, we have plenty of time."

[wickedisback]

Woke up and wrote gelphie smut first thing in the morning. Like a proper adult.

[sukunasbow]

using a pink ribbon to bind readers hands with galinda for the first time:

bondage with galinda ; mdni

“are they too tight, darling?” the blonde’s gaze glances at the pink ribbons keeping your wrists tied to the bedposts. you’re lying down on the bed with raised arms and nothing on, giving her the perfect view of your body.

“a little.” you huff. “this is so unfair, i just wanna touch you.”

“you should’ve thought about that before i caught you flirting with fiyero in class.”

“for the millionth time, i swear to the wizard that i wasn’t flirting! he just wanted help with the paper we were working on.” you look up at galinda with furrowed eyebrows as she stands at the end of the bed, slowly starting to remove her pink babydoll dress, leaving her in nothing but thin lace panties that match the colour of the dress. your gaze looks up and down at her body, practically eye fucking her. “please, baby. i’ll make you feel so good.” you whisper, “promise.”

galinda gives you a mocking pout, shaking her head gently. “no touching, only looking. i’m teaching you a lesson…” she brings her hands up to her tits, sensually squeezing the soft and plush flesh. “if you want to keep touching me.” she pauses for a moment to pinch her own nipples, letting out an exaggerated moan to tease you. “then next time fiyero tries to sneakily flirt with you by requesting help for work he’s typically perfect at completing, i expect you to turn him down.” galinda rolls her eyes back as she continues fondling her own breasts.

“i will, i promise.” you lick your bottom lip and watch her with hazy eyes. “just please, come on.” your eyes drift down to stare at the slight peek of her cunt through the see through panties. you feel yourself instantly get wetter, your clit throbbing with need, begging for attention. galinda’s lips slowly firm into a smirk, knowing exactly what you’re feeling. she pulls down her panties and before you can get a long look, she climbs onto the bed and straddles your hips. she sits herself down on you and you let out a small whimper at the feeling of her own wet cunt rubbing against yours. “galinda, i’ll do whatever you ask, just..” before you can continue begging, you’re cut off with intense pleasure as she rocks her hips back and forth, your clits bumping together with every movement. “fuck, yes, keep going..’ss good.”

“hmm, that feels good, sweetheart?” she coos, looking down at your with her big doe eyes.

“yes, yes.” you eagerly moan out. your lips part to say something else, however, your clit aches when she suddenly climbs off of you and walks to your shared dorm room dresser. you move to try and and reach out for her, but you’re immediately pulled back by the ribbon. “fuck!” you raise your voice in frustration. you shift your head to the side and try and bite at the knots, attempting to free yourself.

“no, no.” galinda hurries back to the bed, carefully moving your head back to face her. “patience.” you bite your lip in anger, desperation filling your mind, wanting nothing but to touch every inch of her soft body. your girlfriend climbs back into the bed, sitting down in between your spread things, giving her the perfect view of your pussy. “i’ve been wanting to try this out.” she grins and shows you a glittery pink vibrator that you bought for the two of you months ago. you jokingly bought it, as it screamed her with the colour as soon as you saw it.

“galinda, i’m sorry, baby. i jus’ wanna touch you.” you whine.

galinda ignores your pleas and presses the vibrator to your clit. a low buzzing sound echoes throughout the room. your eyes flutter shut at the immediate pleasure and your hips buck at the sensation. “i wonder what this button does.” she feigns innocence, clicking the button on the toy and increasing the vibrator power to the maximum.

“oh my, fuck! galinda, ‘ss too much!” your hands twitch in the ribbons and your legs shake. the vibrations jolt on your clit and you can feel them in your core, sending shivers up your spine. “please.” you moan out.

“i think you can take it, hm?”

your mouth falls open and saliva pools at the corner of your mouth. “galinda..” you mutter out. she spreads her legs slightly and brings her free hand down to her pussy, slowly starting to move two fingers along her clit, getting herself off as she watches you come undone under the vibrator. “i can take care of that for you.” you’re barely able to finish your sentence, overcome by your own pleasure. your moans get louder as she shakes her head and presses the vibrator down onto your pussy even harder. “fuck!” you cry out. tears fill up your eyes as you feel yourself come undone, your clit throbbing while your pussy gushes out cum, painting the bedsheets below you.

“so pretty.” galinda breathes out, continuing to rub at her clit while staring at the sight of your leaking pussy. “did so good for me, honey.”

your chest heaves as you recover from your orgasm. “i did good?” you pause, “then let me touch you, please. i know you need me to help you out.” ever since the two of you got together, galinda constantly mentions her struggles to get off without your hands or without your help.

she contemplates for a second, her hips bucking towards you as the pads of her fingers speed up on her clit. “promise you won’t flirt with him again?”

despite knowing you weren’t flirting with the prince, you’re desperate to touch her and avoid facing even more punishment for arguing about the topic. “i promise.” she hurriedly nods and rushes to untie you.

“come here, then.” she gasps, waiting for you to dive between her spread legs.

[weirdworldofwinnie]

All Tied Up

The Wizard/Oscar Diggs x female reader (NSFW 18+ only oneshot)

Summary: You've been The Wizard's pet 'plaything' more or less for a while now after ending up in the land of Oz by accident. One night he decides to try a new trick in the bedroom.

Warnings: unprotected sex, age gap (much older man/younger woman), power imbalance dynamic, slight daddy kink, nonconsensual mildish bondage, mentions of kidnapping and imprisonment, drinking, drugging

Word Count: ~6,471

A/N: Ever since watching Wicked when it debuted in theaters, I cannot get over Jeff Goldblum as the absolute sexiest Wizard of Oz and so this was born out of a little self-indulgence that I'm happy to share with others who are also down horrendously bad for this man. Takes place before the main climatic events of part one of the movie and obviously not entirely accurate to canon. Reader is AFAB for this (I might write another fic that is more gender neutral) and no use of Y/N in dialogue. Also, this is my first Oz fanfic, and I haven't written smut in a hot minute, so forgive me if it's a bit rusty!

Oscar Diggs.

That isn't his full name of course; all he ever told you was that it was embarrassingly long and unnecessary. Here in the Emerald City though, he is just known as a godlike figurehead deemed The Wizard. The Great and Powerful Oz. The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Oz the Great and Terrible. His Supreme Ozness. All that jazz.

You know now he is a farce, a carny drifted the wrong way west, a two-bit con man that you have no business screwing with. But you do not know the extent of his wickedness and besides, he is just too damn good at wooing and making your heart stutter triple its normal rate for you to dig deeper beyond your feelings. He has an inflated ego, sure, but he's fairly quite kind, at least to you.

You first remembered him when you were a small child visiting the traveling carnival at the state fair in Kansas. His warm olive complexion was complimented with a clean-shaven face and a head full of dark hair and he was so, so tall. He still is, but you have a different perspective now. Back then at your low vantage point, he was so up towards the sky that he might as well have been wearing stilts.

He'd crouched down to your level and displayed out a standard deck of playing cards, and exclaimed: "Pick a card, any card!"

You randomly (or thought so) plucked out the Jack of Hearts and he took it back and shuffled the deck with a flurry of motion, then fanned them back out. You didn't see your Jack among them, and you puckered, lower lip jutted out. His eyes went wide at that, and he feigned concern.

"Ohhh, no, where is it? Is it in here?" He dug frantically into the flap of his jacket to no avail, then the bottoms of his tap shoes.

"Hmm, I don't suppose it could've..." He yanked off his top hat to reveal the same card hidden under there.

You'd gasped, equal parts confused and delighted, and he looked relieved at the successful reaction.

"Here, keep it. I have a dozen of these decks. It's something to remember me by and show all your friends." He pressed the colorful illustrated card into your palm with a grin and your eyes had sparkled with wonder and enchantment.

Thinking back on it, you knew he'd probably done that trick with twenty other kids that day, it was just a ploy to make you feel special, like sure he'd picked you out of the crowd to gift that Jack of Hearts to. But that didn't stop you from hanging onto it as a prized keepsake and keeping that card tucked safely in your jewelry box.

Years passed and you grew up, temporarily forgetting about the nice funny carnival man and shoving it to the back of your mind to solely focus on your simple and hardworking life helping your folks manage the acres of farmland and homestead. One late spring day you were out feeding the flock of chickens when you noticed that off in the distance to the west, dark clouds had gathered into an angry mob, a swirling mass of foreboding. You squinted, dropping the sack of feed. That sure didn't look nothing like an ordinary twister...

A vicious wind blew up and you struggled to walk towards the house, your skirt whipping around like a flag in the pummeling gusts. Ma and Pa were in town with the farmhand picking up supplies, so you were all alone and having never been caught out in the middle of a storm that seemed out of the ordinary, you were terrified.

The tornado spun across the fields, churning up the pastures and few buildings and wooden fences in its wicked wake, until it was no more than a football field's length away. There was no time get to the safety of the cellar, there no time to save anything, and with a scream, you bolted into the barn because it was nearest and covered your head as you flattened to the floor. It occurred to you too late that you should've tied or hitched yourself to a post or something...

Within ten frantic beats of your heart, the monster twister was directly overhead, the roaring and gnashing of its raw power nightmarish. Before you knew it, the barn walls around you started to rip and shudder and then the twister had violently sucked you and what was left of the barn straight up into the air and you promptly blacked out, certain this was it.

********

To your immense surprise, when you regained consciousness some time later, you crawled out of the remaining rubble of the barn to have ended up in a strange colorful place where there were joyously curious multitudes of strangers - people that called themselves citizens of Munchkinland. You were certain you had hit your head on the way down and went bonkers, but somehow it was all very real.

After you had recovered from shock and explained your situation, they advised you to head to the imperial capital, named Emerald City, to plead your case to the ruler who resided there, referred to as The Wizard. A kindly older Munchkin couple lent you their horse and a basket of bread with a canteen of water for the journey. For miles you rode through the farmland and north through mountainous regions to what the Munchkins said was Gillikin Country, home to the Great Gillikin Railway. The train station was gleaming and shiny, and the judgmental and disgusted looks from boarding passengers and workers made you feel like a filthy stray dog. You tried your best to ignore them and strode straight up to the conductor taking tickets.

"Excuse me, sir? I need to get to the Emerald City."

He wrinkled his nose and held out a white gloved palm expectantly.

"Oh, but I haven't any money for a ticket; I lost everything from the freak storm that brought me here."

His thick bushy brows had furried together and he sniffed once.

"A storm, you say?"

"Yes, I ain't got a cent. I was told by the Munchkins to go see The Wizard for my troubles."

His eyebrows shot straight up into his high forehead, and he scoffed loudly. You started to turn away, dejected.

"Well, why didn't you say so? It's your lucky day, miss! Come aboard!" the conductor suddenly exclaimed joyfully, ushering you on.

"Only this once though. You'll go straight to Emerald City where our wonderful Wizard can sort you out."

You boarded and found a private seat by the window, instantly falling asleep as soon as the train sped off. You missed out on the wonderous views of rugged thick moody forests and bright fields of crimson poppies and only awoke when the train jolted to a halt. Once let off at the station, you took to exploring the overwhelming oasis that was the Emerald City. You'd never seen a big city before and certainly not one like this...

It wasn't hard to figure out signs of this mysterious Wizard and the most obvious was a huge statue planted in the center of the town square. With a loud gasp, you recognized the figure as the very carnival man you had met as a little girl all those years ago.

After getting directions to the palace from a couple of citizens on the street, you went hurriedly to the entrance, only to run up against the stationed uniformed guards.

"I need to see the Wizard, please," you begged of them.

They'd been extremely skeptical, but after much desperate explaining and exasperation, you were begrudgingly allowed in and warned that if you were told to leave by him, you must obey and that nothing could be done about it.

The stretched-out hallway that was the walk down to where you were supposed to meet this Wizard was ominous and your boots had clacked loudly across the shiny tiled flooring, each step echoing tenfold.

The room itself was enormous and intimidating with bursts of fire and noise almost as bad as the tornado. Somehow, you'd mustered up some gumption to tell off the ghoulish moving mechanical head mouthpiece that you weren't scared off by its overdramatic display and that you weren't going to leave until you saw the voice behind it.

"I know who you are, Mr. Deck of Trick Cards!" you yelled at it and with a great whirring of the machine shutting off, it then clunked silent.

He'd come out from behind the hanging ropey curtain of thick twisted fibers, purely flabbergasted more than angry, and declared in humbled bemusement that no one had ever told him that before. Seeing him in the vivid flesh instead of a dim memory had made you falter. He had aged, yes, but he was actually rather handsome and so well dressed, radiating off quirky charm and charisma. You properly introduced yourself and recounted how you'd recognized him from your memory of that distant festival day.

"I see, but I'm afraid I don't remember you, sorry?" He coughed into his fist while his right shoe tapped restlessly.

Your heart sunk even though it was perfectly logical, and you didn't even know why you expected any remembrance when he never even knew your name, for Pete's sake! You had been just another cute face in the crowd, a country bumpkin kid to play card tricks with at the fair for a minute of his day. He had no reason to selectively recall you at all.

"I figured as much, it's my fault. I guess I'll get going though I haven't a clue on how to get home. But darn it, you know I didn't ask to be swept up by a tornado and plopped into this freakish land! I didn't mean to travel all this way through hot fields and cold mountains and the long railway just to get turned away by a silly man who runs a giant talking head!" You hadn't meant to sound rude and whiny, but you were so tired, hungry (the bread you were given depleted hours ago), dirty, and utterly exhausted. And the hope you had pinned on this one man was extinguished.

The Wizard crossed his arms tight to his chest and his eyes casually roamed up and down your body, perhaps surveying the pathetic condition you were in. If he was offended by your statements, he didn't show it.

"You know, it's funny, I had something somewhat similar happen to me back in Omaha and that's how I ended up here... I made the most of it, though. You came from the great state of Kansas, you said?"

"Yes, sir."

He had smiled at that, perhaps enjoying the way that respectful reply just automatically slipped out from your lips, and then he had waved a hand uselessly behind him.

"I don't know how to send you home. Well, I have a hot air balloon for travel, but it's more strictly emergency purposes and I don't think it would be wise to cause a ruckus and panic the people, so... You know what? How about you, uh, stay the night? You must be so worn out and clearly need a bath."

You winced, knowing you were caked in the unappealing smell of dust, muck, and sweat, but nodded eagerly.

"There's no sense traveling now anyhow, it'll be too dark soon. How about you stay with me for a while, and we'll figure things out, alright?"

You were near tears, yet very grateful, and accepted.

You almost wished you hadn't.

Guards, which were a mix of both normal humans and (bizarrely) blue faced monkeys with wings had come in and dragged you off to a secluded room of the palace where you were scrubbed down and dressed in green pajamas by a small team of maids before being put in a bedroom.

You were stopped at every turn you attempted to leave your room to find an exit and finally they deadbolted it. You spent two nights in confinement with delivered meals before The Wizard had entered and gently explained it was too dangerous to let you leave, that you were safer with him and better off staying with him. At first, you were upset because surely your folks were worried about how you had presumably fallen off the face of an earthly existence, but then you remembered you were definitely an old enough adult to live on your own now and maybe there was nothing left of the homestead anyway if that nasty storm had its way. You didn't miss your work on the farm, nor the pressure your family had been applying to find a young man to marry. You never admitted it out loud, but you had bigger sights than being a simple country girl who let some drunken boyish hick boss you around.

This palace was just so grand compared to anything you'd ever seen in your life, and it was complete with a man you were increasingly infatuated with. It took several weeks of being locked up to come to terms with the realization that you had a raging crush on the man who was playing captor, and you wanted him very badly, but his interactions were limited, and you wondered why the heck he kept you around and alive if all he cared about was hiding his identity.

One night though, he broke down the invisible barrier: as you were knelt down in your room removing your slippers for bed, he grabbed your chin to tip upward and within a matter of two seconds, he kissed you right on the lips before you could make a peep. After a second, you kissed back hungrily without restraint, letting desire overrule fear.

"I'm sorry," you and him both said at the same time when he pulled away.

After that, you shyly admitted your blooming feelings for him and by a stroke of splendid luck, The Wizard reciprocated. He invited you to his private room and you slept with him for the first time. Afterward, he told you a bit about himself, how he really started out just a simple man named Oscar who had become a magician and one day the man in charge because people happened to be so gullible. He was intelligent, inventive, and intoxicating with a dash of cunning.

Of course, you weren't sure if the "love" that he extended was out of pure benevolent generosity or you were merely just a glorified whore, but either way you were happy because you loved him, albeit stupidly. He must genuinely love you back though; what else could all the flowers left on the nightstand and weekly gifts of expensive jewels tucked into tiny ornate boxes with trailing lime green silk ribbons mean? He even gifted you an entire handpicked wardrobe of fine clothing from pressed skirts and beautiful dresses to day-to-day blouses to pajamas and revealing lounge wear, many of which match the colors of Emerald City.

The only downside to this whole odd arrangement was that due to the fact that you already knew too much about him, he'd grounded you to the palace indefinitely. From day one you were not allowed to step even a toe outside the palace walls, you weren't let out to leave the premises even accompanied by guards, and you had to keep to yourself in the designated permitted rooms, of which he had many for a single man. When you asked why he needed the excess of rooms, he chuckled.

"They're for my inventions and all the things I collect. I'm rather sentimental, you see."

"Am I now one of your 'things'?" you asked, to which he had smiled almost impishly.

"You could be, if you want."

********

So it is without resistance that now, many months later, at eight o'clock in the evening (he insists on an earlier bedtime, strictly nine o'clock at the latest) in his grand bedroom, you splay fully naked on your back across the rich emerald green satin sheets like a starfish waiting to be swept away by the power of the tidal force he thinks he is (maybe sometimes he's more of a lukewarm swell but no matter).

The Wizard, or Oscar as he prefers only in private, is a surprisingly fit man for his age with a decent sex drive in bed when he's in the mood, which is at least once a week, but there are dry spells when he's too busy or unhappy. While you spend time reading in the library, he spends hours off somewhere building things and tinkering with models which you've never touched. You sleep in separate bedrooms, but on such nights he's ready for passion however, you're expected to be there and stay the night with him. Enjoying his company isn't hard to do - you've fallen head over heels for the man.

Presently, he's removed his long coat to hang up and is in the process of undressing further, the bits and bobs and chains clinking softly from his vest, when he pauses significantly, humming to himself in the depths of the spacious walk-in closet off to the side.

"What is it?" you ask, perplexed and a smidge annoyed at his distraction. He'd promised - no, ordered - an intimate evening after a long while of leaving too much alone. He's been swamped with work and meetings with other influential folk and plotting and planning that he always keeps quiet and stuffed away from you.

"Do you want a drink, my beauty?" he asks abruptly, turning around and holding a tiny green bottle of his famed elixir that he procured from somewhere.

"What kind of game are you playing at, sir?" you wonder suspiciously, watching candlelight glint playfully off the glass.

"It'll loosen you up, just a sip or two."

"It's just alcohol, isn't it?" You can hear the uncertainty reverberate through your tone and the guilty twitch of his eyebrows doesn't deny anything.

"My very own special blend. Take some," he insists, coming over and pressing the cool bottle into your tender hands.

"Why?"

"It's, uh, for a surprise. I promise it's not poison, by golly."

"Not funny." You narrow your eyes but pop the cork and bring it to your lips to take a quick swig. It goes down smooth like syrup, just not as sweet.

"That's my girl," he praises, and you shiver in delight as he climbs up on the bed, holding his hand out expectantly for the elixir, but you aren't done with it. You drink more, feeling the inexplicable urge to quench your thirst. You finally press the nearly empty bottle back to his hands, swallowing before lying back with a flump onto the plush pillows.

Within two minutes, you feel entirely airy and floaty, like your mind has taken an extension cord out of your body to stick somewhere up on the ceiling.

"This'll 'ad better be gooood..." you slur out.

"I guarantee it will, at least for me." He watches in satisfaction as you doze off to dreamland in a daze, a heavy weight of comfortable numb blackness settling over your bones. The room is bathed in a cozy glow from the candles, and it smells deliciously heady.

********

Not too long later, you stir awake from your short-lived nap and when you roll over to your side, you find you can't. Your back is flush against the satin sheets, arms raised up above your head and pinned to the headboard.

"W-Why am I... all tied up?" you ask groggily, looking down at your spread apart legs and ankles, which are stuck in place to the bedposts by a sturdy soft green rope snaked expertly and securely.

"I thought, uh, we'd try something new here..." Oscar says, seeming hesitant now, as if he's two inches away from regretting playing out this fantasy. Or maybe he's not guilty at all and only perceiving the act of being so (you could never tell with a sleazy con man after all).

You tug uselessly at the bindings, which aren't that uncomfortable; the mossy green rope coils around your wrists and ankles snugly, leaving a bit of room for circulation. The only part that truly bothers you is the restricted mobility and lack of control.

Oscar approaches slowly, as if gauging your reaction and his self-preservation if you should decide to fight back... How exactly, you don't know. Yell at him, cuss him out? Bite him like a lowly animal? Scream until a guard comes in to see if you are being murdered?

You writhe slowly, testing the limitations as he settles down at the foot of the bed, a patient parental expression painting his face, coloring with concern yet intrigue. In the time while you were asleep, he's removed his button down and trousers, leaving just a white undershirt and green boxers that pronounce his male package quite well.

He runs a slow hand up along the length of your left thigh and then alternates to the right, his fingers tracing lines of pleasure into your veins. You automatically whimper and he rigs a sly smile up to one side of his cheek.

"Do you like this?"

"I don't know..." you murmur truthfully. It's not exactly unpleasant, but the loss of control is unsettling.

"Well, I happen to like it. You know, the sight of you like this." He gestures a wide sweeping path across the whole of your body, and you grin sheepishly, chest rising and falling with anticipated breaths.

"You can't squirm from me as much."

"I don't squirm," you protest, raising eyebrows.

"Oh yes, you do. I know you don't mean to."

Before you can react to that, he lunges forward and his hands go to your sides, stroking up around to your breasts, fondling them like priceless treasures. You moan, arousal heating your core even more than before, and he rubs a thumb over the hard buds of your nipples while speaking lowly.

"I thank my lucky stars that you were blown in from that storm, it sure was a lonely handful of years before you stumbled into this place. And to have someone so obedient to all my whims..." he trails off, a hungry glint in his eyes.

He bends down to lick and smooch along your throat, inching upward until he nuzzles the nape of your neck with his nose. His close cropped and trimmed mustache/goatee tickles and scratches at your skin as he leans so close, cupping the opposite side of your face with a firm hand. You whimper as he latches onto your mouth possessively, his tongue hot and heavy in your mouth. He tastes faintly like Oz's finest toothpaste and his aftershave should be sold as a candle. Maybe you can suggest to him to market his own line of merchandise; the people of Emerald City will buy anything with their great ruler's handsome face on it even if the product is utter shit.

You feel your hips trying to buck up, needing more contact than of the oral kind, but he's teasing tonight.

"Just keep making those pretty noises, darling..." he whispers, sucking numerous hickeys.

"Please, Oz..."

He moves his head, hot breath on your earlobe as he mutters the words.

"What is it that you desire?"

You struggle to speak, all senses haywire, and he waits patiently as you breathe erratically.

"You-I, please, I need... Oscar, please! Touch."

"Oh, you want me to touch you there? Now we're getting somewhere, darling."

He backs off to run a hand down the length of your body and two of his solid warm fingers slip down into your entrance and out, a give and take motion he does for a bit just to get you hot and bothered. His fingers toy expertly with your moist clit like one does with levers to machines, pressing up and down, rubbing a swiping warm thumb over the knob... When he curls them internally, you cry out cataclysmically, stomach undulating in peaking waves of pleasure as you squirt on his fingers. He chuckles, keeping his grip on your hips, and without the ropes keeping your limbs in place, you'd be thrashing. It's torture, but in the very best way.

When you calm down enough to gaze at him heavy lidded with blown pupils, he focuses on removing his undergarments, taking the white undershirt off first and throwing it to the floor for a maid to pick up later. Then he gets to the main event, the showstopper. You don't focus long on his erect cock because his fingers get in between your legs again. He dips one in, two, then three to stretch you out and your warm slick folds welcome him back in with relief. He holds his free hand down on your stomach and you orgasm once more, yanking in frustration at the bindings that dig into your skin.

"Easy, easy," he says as if trying to tame a wild mare.

"I want... to touch you!" You've fondled his balls and cock before, but even just throwing your arms around his neck would be better than this look-but-don't-touch load of hooey.

"I know, I know. Hey, I'm doing the work here alright? Just enjoy the ride and you'll thank me later."

He looms over before settling down over you and it's strange not being able to grab him in return, to claw at his back, to wind your legs around his waist and claim him as your own for the evening. This power play dynamic is right up his alley, to make you feel utterly vulnerable and pliable underneath him, and it's only fitting for a man who loves to pull the strings of everything and everyone around him. He prefers being on top in bed, but you're definitely known to ride him cowgirl style a time or two (this is your favorite position).

The head of his cock pushes in at a tasteful pace to bottom out and burrow inside that it feels like up in your stomach - and it's taken practice to get to this point; the first time (and a few times after that) hurt and he couldn't get too far mostly because he was just so big. You wonder dimly if taking elixir and being in a relaxed state of mind affects your ability to take his girth. Either way, he never gets angry on nights he can't go all the way; he finds his climax just as well outside. Tonight, though, he's persistent and when he glances at your face which is not screwed up and wincing, he gradually nods in approval to continue.

Oscar moves slowly in rocking rhythm, gentle and deliberate at first, then faster and rougher, nearly growling in pursuit of his own pleasure. His silver hair falls out of its careful coifed style to hang over his forehead, and he keeps his melted milk chocolate-colored eyes dead set on yours as he fucks, a predator to his prey. He has you right where he wants, you can't move away, and you moan as your walls clench tight around his cock. He holds his stare steady, but his frame is shuddering and it's clear he's close to his pinnacle, the one he's been aiming for since you entered this bedroom.

He has made it no secret he has cravings to be a father, even though you're sure he'd be a somewhat inept, possibly even lousy one due to his measurable amount of selfishness. Not to mention the detail that he's old enough to be your own daddy and you oddly don't have a problem with that... But he knows he mustn't intentionally knock you up (a scandal that would cause if word got out) and it was you who had to sadly school him on this fact of life, having been around enough farm animals all your life to know how babies are easily made and knowing friends who had become mothers at the ripe age of 18 back in high school, and you do not want to be that careless. It's lucky there hasn't been any "mistakes" so far in your bedding with Oscar, but you know he almost can't resist spilling inside.

Instead, he pulls out with difficulty at the very last minute, and hot ropes of gooey cum splatter your stomach and splash against your chest. He groans in ecstasy before heaving, out of breath.

"You okay?" you whisper as his lightly sweating chest rises and falls with exertion. He cracks a lopsided smile, steadying himself by using his arms to brace against the headboard above you.

"Are... Are you kidding? I've never been better. Just - just give a man a minute, will you?" He retracts an arm back and holds up a single finger with a dangerous glance.

"And don't you dare make a joke about my age. I'm as fit as a fiddle, just like when I was thirty."

You nod absently, thinking of him as a younger man. The portraits and statues scattered around are decent, but could never do him justice. He's aged like the finest high-quality wine and the silver hair and sprinkling of wrinkles only enhances his austerity.

"You're incredible, your Ozness."

"Flattery always works best, my dear." He ducks his head down and sloppily kisses you softly on the cheek.

"And you deserve to be untied, don't you?" His hands wind around behind your head and with one quick motion, both your wrists are untied. He does your ankles next in a flash and flimsily bundles the short ropes up to toss onto the bedside table.

He climbs off and helps you up ease up to a seated position. You feel suddenly dizzy and droop forward, your brain rushing with slush, and blood flushes into your cheeks.

"Woah, it's okay." He sucks in a breath, catching you against his chest.

"Spinning," you gasp out and he keeps his arms securely around you for a minute before you wiggle, antsy, and he props you up.

"Still on the Tilt-A-Whirl?" he asks, lines deeply creasing his face.

"I... It's gettin' better." You shake your head as though that will dispel the imbalance that you have a strong hunch is a side or after effect from his mystery elixir, not just the sex.

"Thank goodness. You scared me for a minute there, if this is too much..."

"No! I love you," you blurt out and he comfortingly pets your head, raking fingers through and tousling your hair.

"Alright, sweetheart. And to think in addition I was going to experiment with a blindfold and gag- uh, never mind. Maybe that's too advanced; we'll hold off on that one for the foreseeable future."

You gape at him as he gets off the bed with no further word but a grunt and reaches over for a towel on the bedside table to give to you. You take it to wipe up some of the mess while he leaves momentarily off to the nearby bathing chambers to freshen up.

He comes back five minutes later dressed only in a fresh pair of tight fitting boxers predictably of his favorite color that you have to tear your gaze away from lest you foolishly admit to wanting another go around. He clears his throat at your staring, rubbing his jaw and jerking his chin towards the door.

"You can go clean up now," he says a bit gruffly, pointing.

All of Emerald City is extravagant and even the humble washroom is no exception. The first night he'd fucked you, Oscar had given a tour of it.

"See what money and power can buy? It'd do you good to remember that," he'd said as he ran a hand across the shiny marble tiles and gilded gold faucets.

"I came from humble beginnings just like you and now look at me!" He spread his arms out wide in exaggeration and you giggled, utterly enamored.

"Just don't let it go to your head." He chuckled deeply at the ironic fitting joke.

You shuffle off now to wash and wipe down your body in there, using an dark green washcloth that has his moniker of "OZ" stitched on it, and you feel aching soreness all over your body - but it's a good kind, like a full day's work of physical labor accomplishing what you really needed to do.

********

Once you are done in the washroom, you tug on a plush robe the color of jade and return to the bedroom to go to lay back down on the king size bed next to him. He pulls you in with the crook of his arm, the other holding a different bottle than the elixir. This one smells very much like whiskey.

"I should tell you..." he begins with a pause, clearly not in any hurry as he takes a breath and then a couple sips. You can tell by his slightly unfocused gaze and relaxed body that he is getting a tad drunk.

"We're gonna have a special visitor soon from Shiz University, you know Madame Morrible?"

"Yes." You've seen her come and go around the palace, but aren't advised to get within ten feet of the powerful older woman, let alone speak to her. All you know is that she can do impressive magic (unlike him) and is a very close loyal confidant who provides important insider information.

"Well, she invited a very special student with promising magical abilities here for something I'm working on, and I'll need you get out and to stay out of our hair for a while," he explains causally, playing with the neck of the bottle in his fingers.

"You're casting me out?" you ask, disappointment surging up like a muddy river during a flood. This set-up is only too good to last, isn't it? You're so in love that you've almost forgotten all about home, not that you'd really loved your old life there much anyway. But if you truly can't get home ever again, you'll have to start looking for some kind of work in the city to make meager money and hopefully figure out how to cobble a life together if that's even possible. You'll never find another man to depend on like Oscar, that's obvious. Funny that mere months ago, you had been somewhat distraught at the notion of being held against your will in this unfamiliar palace and world. Now you just feel stupid for letting him lead you into a false sense of security and preying on when you were most desperate.

"No, no, of course not," he replies in a scandalized tone, slicing sharply through your spiraling thoughts.

"I greatly value your, uh, commitment to me and keeping my secrets. You're a very delightful girl who doesn't go snooping for trouble and you try to keep out of my business."

You don't mention that you are technically locked indefinitely in this palace, forbidden to go outside off the grounds, and hadn't really had a choice in the first place. But he appears so sad and frustrated, so you nestle and snuggle further into his side, your hand tracing lazy circles on his chest.

"Perhaps only though for your safety, if the upcoming meeting and arrangement doesn't go well, you might have to leave permanently. But, uh, in that case I'll make sure you get you set up with decent accommodations outside the city. Perhaps Munchkinland, Governor Thropp there owes me a favor..."

"Okay," you murmur quietly even though this prospect partially frightens and worries you, and you feel relief oozing from his bones.

"Thank you for always understanding my dear. You know I have such a responsibility and I need everything to go right when this special young lady comes - Morrible is counting on it and you damn know it you don't want to get on her bad side."

"This student of hers must be something else," you mutter more to yourself than him. How much does she know, anyway?

"She sure fucking is from what I've been told. She'll change everything and put me in a greater position than before if I can get her to work with me. Morrible seems cautiously confident and cheered as well by the prospect, which is a sign to be taken seriously. She can often have a stiff stick up her tight ass, huh?" He laughs, deep and throaty, and you know his guard is down when he swears openly in conversation.

"Right." You're silent for a little while, just letting him hold you and trying not to dwell on the implications of whatever this mystery meeting could hold. You could ask for more information, seeing as to how he could be looser lipped from the effects of the alcohol, but you frankly don't care. The post orgasmic state you're basking in is too all-consuming to break out of (plus you are fatigued), and so you let the less business side mood of tonight seep back into the conversation.

"Hey, I liked this tonight, what we did. I really thought the ropes were, um, creative and even though I was nervous at first, it was actually... pretty hot? Maybe we could do that again sometime, sir?"

He smiles tentatively, the gears of his diabolical mind whirring on another track, and your words clumsily snatch him back to the present.

"That's just what I like to hear, sweetheart. That's what I love best-"

"-making people happy," you finish for him, having that line down pat after overhearing him parrot it as part of his political approach.

"Atta girl," he replies with a smarmy smirk and then a contented sigh, ducking his head and resting his chin on top of your head as you lay on his bare chest, listening to the even drumming of his heartbeats.

The palace is delightfully quiet this time of night, the guards in immediate range having been dismissed for the evening so there would be no eavesdroppers. Light from the waxing moon outside the large glass windows curtained with heavy drapes parted a couple inches beams through weakly down, leaving a six inch pale strip to highlight the heavily polished floor.

Kansas and its cornfields feel like worlds away. This is almost like a dream in of itself, but I know it isn't because every day I wake up and I'm still here, you muse sleepily.

Maybe you're staying with the wrong man, and it will end badly between you two. But honestly at this moment, you are too smitten by this lavish lifestyle you stumbled into, his seemingly sincere ongoing affections, and the raw primal love you extract from his flesh on passionate nights like this to give too much of a hoot about it.

[loreleisserafim]

Hiii !!

Im lorelei, im a fanfiction writer for the wicked movie <3

I will write ; elphaba x glinda, elphaba x reader, glinda x reader, gelphie x reader any genre (fluff, smut, angst ect.)

[lunaswritingcafe]

"YOU'LL JUST HAVE TO TASTE ME WHEN

HE'S KISSING YOU . . ."

summary: After Fiyero had kissed Elphaba in the forrest, it became a lot harder for him to keep denying his feelings, Elphaba as well. The two soon became public, which resulted in a tragic ending to her's and Glinda friendship, she became jealous and hateful towards Elphaba but the two end up needing each other more than they thought.

prologue

part.I

part.II

part.III

(a/n: Im not great at descriptions but this story is inspired by the lyrics & mv "taste" by sabrina carpenter. Elphie falls in love with Fiyero, they both start dating which makes Glinda jealous trying to sabotage the two until they realize they only need each other in the end. Also it is my first series/fic so any constructive criticism/advise would be lovely! I'm not certain if it will be three parts or more, it depends how the story moves along. I've written before but never in this kind of context. Its also my first wlw fic so I hope I do everything right! Thank you and I hope you enjoy this mini series!)

[theetherealbloom]

The Things I Would Do, Just To Be Here With You

Summary: Amidst the whirlwind of movie premieres and busy schedules, you and Pedro Pascal, both thriving in your respective careers, find ways to celebrate each other despite the distance. While Pedro promotes Gladiator 2 in London, he longs for your presence at the after-party.

Or, you two would scream at the stars for keeping you apart... and the government too.

“Pedro Pascal x f!reader, Pedro is promoting Gladiator 2, and reader is in Wicked (Elphaba or Galinda of course!) for the screenplay of Wicked, and they are just really supportive of each other but also joke about their own movie being the best. Finding time to come to each other’s premiers. Posting behind the scenes or visiting each other.” — From @imaginemixedfandom

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Surrounded by A-Listers, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Red Carpet, Cameras, Paparazzi, Long Distance, Timezone Difference, Social Media, Interviews, I’m not a Spanish speaker, I might be wrong with the terms, please don’t come after me T^T,

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Ty @imaginemixedfandom for giving the idea! I didn’t really want to replace the reader with the cast of Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo. Those two are just too iconic. So instead I will make the reader a writer for the screenplay adaptation of Wicked tehe. You all should listen to brent iii by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler, it’s absolutely one of my favorite albums of this year. Lastly, remember this is all fictional and for fun! Enjoyyyy my loves!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: and the government too! By Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

gif by @andrew-garfielld

| Main Masterlist |

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — EVENING

“Hi.” Your voice was soft as you nestled deeper into the duvet, your body cocooned in its comforting folds.

“Hola, mi amor.” Pedro’s face lit up on your phone screen, the warm timbre of his voice washing over you like a balm. “I miss you.” “I miss you too… so much,” you replied with a little pout. The time difference between London and New York was merciless. Between his packed schedule promoting Gladiator 2 and prepping for Fantastic Four, and your whirlwind of work with the Wicked movie premiere, your conversations had been reduced to stolen moments like this. Still, even through a screen, Pedro had a way of making you feel like the most important person in the world. “You look cozy,” he said with a lopsided grin, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Meanwhile, I’m freezing my ass off here on set. I think my nose might fall off.” You laughed softly, the sound tinged with longing. “I’d trade you, you know. I’ll take the cold if it means I get to see you.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He leaned closer to the camera, his face filling your screen. “If I weren’t contractually obligated to be here, I’d hop on the next flight and show up at your premiere tomorrow. Red carpet and all.” You smiled wistfully, your fingers brushing against the edge of your phone as if you could reach through it to touch him. “You’d outshine me. Imagine the headlines: ‘Pedro Pascal steals the show at Wicked premiere.’” “Please. Everyone’s going to be talking about you. ‘Brilliant screenwriter dazzles Hollywood!’” He paused, his tone softening. “You’re incredible, you know that?” Your throat tightened at his words, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Stop, or I’ll actually cry, and my face will be all puffy for tomorrow.” He chuckled. “Okay, okay. But seriously, mi amor, I’m so proud of you. You’ve worked so hard for this.” “And so have you,” you countered. “The Gladiator 2 trailer broke the internet, and you still found time to send me flowers last week. You’re amazing, Pedro.” “Yeah, but flowers aren’t the same as being there with you.” His voice dipped, a hint of regret slipping through. “I hate being this far away.” You sighed, your heart aching in tandem with his. “Me too.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with the unspoken tension of your shared longing. Then, Pedro’s grin returned, bright and mischievous. “So,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “who do you think has the better movie? Be honest.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Are you seriously asking me to compare Wicked to Gladiator 2? One’s a heartfelt, magical adaptation, and the other is a testosterone-filled epic. They’re different.”

“Uh-huh,” he teased, crossing his arms. “Sounds like you’re dodging the question. I knew you were scared to admit Gladiator 2 is better.”

You scoffed, sitting up straighter in bed. “Scared? Please. I just don’t want to hurt your feelings when Wicked inevitably becomes a global phenomenon.”

Pedro laughed, the sound rich and contagious. “You’re lucky I love you. Otherwise, this would be grounds for war.”

“Lucky? You’re the lucky one,” you shot back, smirking. “I’ll prove it when I finally see you in person again. But until then…”

You brought the phone closer, pressing a soft kiss to the screen. Pedro mimicked your gesture, his lips brushing his camera lens.

“Goodnight, mi vida,” he murmured.

“Goodnight, Pedro.” Your voice was tender, laced with all the love you couldn’t put into words.

As the call ended, you clutched the phone to your chest, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. Despite the distance, despite the chaos of your lives, you knew one thing for certain: Pedro Pascal would always be worth the wait.

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — MORNING

Today was the day. You were walking the red carpet for the Wicked movie premiere. A sea of celebrities, producers, fellow writers, and editors would surround you. The sheer magnitude of it all left you feeling both giddy and utterly petrified.  

You smoothed your hands over the silk robe you wore, your palms damp with nerves. While you loved the craft of storytelling, the spotlight had always felt daunting. You preferred to let your work speak for itself—a tendency that paired surprisingly well with dating Pedro Pascal, the literal human embodiment of charisma and charm.  

“There, all done,” Laura, your makeup artist, said with a satisfied grin.  

You blinked at your reflection in the mirror. Your skin glowed, your eyes were accentuated just enough to look striking without overwhelming, and your lips were painted a perfect shade of confidence.  

“You’ve outdone yourself,” you said, giving her a warm smile.  

“Of course I did,” Laura replied with a wink. “Big night for my favorite screenwriter.”  

Mia, your stylist, emerged from behind a rack of gowns, holding up the dress. “Speaking of big nights... Ready to put this beauty on?”  

You nodded, though your smile wavered. “I just wish Pedro were here,” you admitted, your voice quieter now.  

Laura and Mia exchanged sympathetic glances before Laura gently squeezed your shoulder. “You’re going to look incredible, and he’d lose his mind if he saw you. How about we take some pictures to send him? A little preview for the man himself.”  

You hesitated, glancing at your phone on the vanity. “I don’t want to distract him. He’s busy with interviews and set work. London and New York aren’t exactly next door…”  

“All is fair in love and war,” Laura teased, her giggle breaking the tension. “Come on, babe! If anything, it’ll be motivation for him to hop on the next flight.”  

Mia chimed in, smirking. “Or just to remind him what he’s missing. Trust me, teasing Pedro is a public service.”  

You laughed despite yourself, feeling the nerves lift slightly. “Fine, fine. But if he complains, I’m blaming you two.”  

They ushered you into the dress—a masterpiece of emerald silk and intricate detailing that clung perfectly in all the right places. As Mia zipped you up, Laura stepped back, her hands pressed dramatically over her heart.  

“Pedro’s going to lose his shit.”  

“You look like a literal goddess,” Mia added, spinning you toward the mirror.  

For a moment, you hardly recognized yourself. The reflection staring back radiated elegance and confidence, even if you didn’t entirely feel it yet.  

“Okay, okay. Take the pictures,” you relented, biting your lip as you tried to contain your grin.  

Laura grabbed your phone and started snapping. You struck a few playful poses, twirling and laughing as Mia adjusted the hem of your dress. It felt silly, but imagining Pedro’s reaction warmed your chest.  

Once the photos were taken, you grabbed your phone and hovered over the message screen. You debated for a moment, then attached the best photo and typed a quick message.  

You: Wish you were here. But since you’re not... Enjoy this. Don’t let it distract you too much, cariño.  

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, the familiar swoosh of the message sending making your heart race.  

The reply came faster than you expected.  

Pedro: Distract me? How am I supposed to do anything now? You look like an angel. No, better than an angel. Drop-dead stunning. 

You couldn’t stop the grin from taking over your face.  

Pedro: Red carpet better be ready. They’ve got no idea who they’re dealing with tonight.  

The butterflies in your stomach multiplied tenfold. Before you could reply, another message appeared.  

Pedro: I’m so proud of you. Go knock ’em dead, mi amor. I love you.  

Your throat tightened, and you had to blink back the sudden tears threatening to ruin Laura’s hard work. You tapped out a quick reply.  

You: I love you too. Now go back to being the coolest man alive.  

“You okay over there?” Mia asked, watching you with a knowing smile.  

“More than okay,” you said softly, tucking your phone away.  

As you prepared to step into the whirlwind of the premiere, Pedro’s words echoed in your mind. Even from thousands of miles away, he made you feel invincible.  

Tonight wasn’t just about the red carpet or the glitz and glamour. It was about celebrating what you loved—and knowing Pedro would always be your biggest cheerleader, no matter where in the world he was.  

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON — AFTERNOON  

Pedro sighed deeply, his head resting against the back of his chair. The steady hum of activity on set felt like background noise, the voices and clatter muffled by the ache in his chest. His fingers drummed lightly against his thigh, the motion absent-minded, a physical echo of the restlessness he felt inside.  

He missed you.  

It wasn’t the casual longing of someone who hadn’t seen their partner in a while—it was the kind of yearning that settled into his bones, heavy and persistent. A few hundred miles of ocean separated you, but it may as well have been an entire galaxy.  

He opened his phone and scrolled back to the picture you’d sent him that morning. The emerald dress, the way it hugged your form, the way your eyes sparkled even in a still image—it took his breath away. You looked like a dream. His dream.  

“If I were there right now…” he murmured under his breath, running his thumb over the screen as if he could touch you.  

If it were as simple as hopping on a flight, he’d already be on his way. He imagined the way you’d light up when you saw him, how you’d rush into his arms. He’d bury his face in your hair, inhale your scent, and hold you so tightly that he’d forget about the world outside.  

But it wasn’t that simple. The timing was off, as it so often was with both your careers in full swing. He was tied to the production schedule of Fantastic Four, and you were in the spotlight for Wicked. The universe seemed determined to keep you apart, and for the first time in years, Pedro felt the cracks in his patience.  

He closed his eyes, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. “Damn stars. Damn schedules. Damn… government,” he muttered bitterly. The laugh that followed was humorless, the frustration thick in his voice.  

If he could, he’d scream at the stars for conspiring against you both. Curse the invisible forces that made life so complicated. He’d barter with time itself, twist it and stretch it, just to have you here with him for a few stolen moments.  

He wondered what you were doing right now. Were you nervous about the red carpet? Did you feel as hollow without him as he felt without you? Pedro clenched his jaw, guilt gnawing at him. You deserved to have him there, to walk that carpet with you, to hold your hand and beam with pride as you took in the applause for your work.  

“Pedro, they’re ready for you!”  

The call from a production assistant jolted him from his thoughts. He blinked, the weight of reality crashing back down as he stood and stretched.  

“Be right there,” he called back, tucking his phone into his pocket.  

As he made his way back to the soundstage, he couldn’t shake the thought of tomorrow. The Gladiator 2 premiere loomed ahead, another milestone he should be celebrating with you by his side. Instead, you’d be halfway across the world.  

But one day, he promised himself, one day, nothing will keep us apart.  

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — EVENING 

The flashing lights were relentless, casting an almost blinding glow over the red carpet. The screams of fans and the constant click of cameras created a symphony of chaos, one you weren’t entirely comfortable navigating. You’d always preferred the quiet—curled up with a book, tucked away from the world’s prying eyes.  

But tonight, you smiled and posed alongside your cast and the production crew. You owed it to them, to yourself, and to the story you’d helped bring to life.  

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Winnie Holzman, the original writer of Wicked, leaned in with a smile, her eyes sparkling as she looked at the crowd.  

You nodded, though your voice was tinged with nervousness. “It’s incredible. Overwhelming, but in the best way.”  

“You’ve done amazing work,” Dana Fox chimed in, her excitement infectious. “We wouldn’t be standing here without your screenplay tying it all together.”  

Jon M. Chu, ever the cheerleader, clapped you lightly on the back. “Tonight’s your night too. Own it.”  

You laughed softly, feeling a little more at ease with their encouragement. Together, the four of you posed for the cameras, sharing a few candid laughs before heading closer to the press area.  

As you stepped into the spotlight for interviews, the questions started flying.  

“How does it feel to see Wicked finally come to life on the big screen?”  

“It feels surreal,” you answered, your smile genuine. “Everyone on this project has poured so much heart into it. To see it come together like this is... overwhelming in the best way.”  

“You’re known for being quite private. How are you handling all the attention tonight?”  

“It’s definitely out of my comfort zone,” you admitted with a small laugh. “But I’m surrounded by such a talented and supportive team, which makes it easier.”  

Then, inevitably, came the question you’d been bracing for. “We couldn’t help but notice that Pedro Pascal isn’t here tonight. Do you miss him?”  

The question tugged at something deep inside you. “I miss him so much,” you said softly, your expression softening. “He’s busy promoting Gladiator 2 and filming in London. I know he wishes he could be here, just like I wish I could be there for him. We’re both incredibly proud of each other, though.” You grinned, a playful sparkle in your eyes. “But, of course, Wicked is better. Don’t tell him I said that.”  

The interviewer laughed, and you followed with a wink before stepping away.  

AFTER THE PREMIERE  

As the credits rolled and the crowd applauded, you walked alongside Jon, Winnie, and Dana toward the exit. The night air was cool and refreshing after the heat of the theater.  

“You were glowing on that carpet,” Winnie teased, nudging you gently.  

Jon smirked. “Bet it’s because of a certain someone who couldn’t make it.”  

You flushed immediately, your cheeks warming. “Stop,” you mumbled, though your smile betrayed your embarrassment.  

“Oh, come on,” Dana added with a laugh. “You were gushing about him earlier. Just admit it—you’re head over heels.”  

You sighed dramatically, though your heart raced just thinking about Pedro. “Okay, fine. I miss him like crazy. I just—” You paused, glancing up at the stars. “I wish I could be there for him, you know? For his premiere. He’s always so supportive of me. It feels wrong not to do the same.”  

Jon stopped walking, turning to face you with a thoughtful look. “So go.”  

“What?”  

“Go to him,” he said with a shrug. “Take the jet. I’ll make the call.”  

You blinked at him, stunned. “You—you’d let me do that?”  

“Of course,” Jon said, waving off your concern. “You’re part of the heart of this project. If being with him makes you happy, it’s worth it.”  

“But I don’t have a ticket, and I need to pack, and—”  

Dana held up a hand, already pulling out her phone. “Relax. I’ll call a car, and we’ll pack together. You just focus on getting there.”  

Before you could protest further, Jon had already stepped aside, dialing someone on his phone. Dana grabbed your arm and started steering you toward the waiting car.  

“You’re really doing this,” she said, grinning.  

“I—I guess I am.” Your voice trembled with excitement and nerves. “What if I don’t make it in time? What if—”  

Dana cut you off with a gentle squeeze on your shoulder. “You’ll make it. And even if you don’t, just being there will mean everything to him.”  

AT THE AIRPORT  

The private jet was waiting for you, its sleek frame illuminated by the glow of the runway lights. You quickly texted Pedro’s manager and assistant, letting them know you were on your way.  

You: I’m coming to London. Please don’t tell him. I want it to be a surprise.  

The response was almost immediate:  

Franklin Latt: Got it. He’s going to lose his mind—in the best way.  

As you settled into your seat and the jet began to taxi, your heart raced. Seven hours separated you from Pedro, but for the first time in days, the distance didn’t feel insurmountable.  

You leaned your head back against the seat, clutching your phone tightly as you closed your eyes. You could already picture the look on his face when he saw you.  

Just hold on, Pedro. I’m on my way.  

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON, ODEON LUXE LEICESTER SQUARE — EVENING

The energy in Leicester Square was electric. Fans filled the barricades, the roar of excitement nearly drowning out the camera flashes as Pedro made his way down the red carpet. Dressed in a sharp black shirt, the top unbuttoned, slacks, his signature charm, and a warm smile lit up every interaction as he stopped to greet fans and pose for photos.

The press area was bustling, and soon Pedro found himself standing in front of a journalist holding a microphone.

“Pedro, congratulations on Gladiator 2! How does it feel to be here tonight celebrating this film?”

Pedro grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It feels incredible. This is one of those projects you dream about as an actor, and to see it all come together, to see everyone’s hard work pay off, it’s… it’s a real honor.”

The interviewer nodded. “You’ve had an amazing year, between this and your other projects. But we couldn’t help but notice that someone special in your life had a big night recently—the Wicked premiere in New York. Did you get a chance to see any photos?”

Pedro’s face lit up instantly, a laugh bubbling out of him. “Oh, I did. Believe me, I did. She sent me some pictures, and I’ve seen the ones floating around online too. I mean… she looked absolutely stunning. Like, knock-you-out, breathtakingly gorgeous. I might be a little biased, but still.”

The crowd nearby caught wind of his gushing, and a few cheers erupted. Pedro laughed, scratching the back of his neck.

“Honestly, I’m so proud of her,” he continued, his voice softening. “She poured so much of herself into that screenplay, and to see her get the recognition she deserves? It’s the best feeling in the world.”

The interviewer smiled. “There’s definitely a lot of love and mutual admiration between you two. Word on the street is you’ve got a bit of a friendly competition going on—Gladiator 2 versus Wicked. Any truth to that?”

Pedro chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, it’s absolutely true. We’ve got a bet going. She’s convinced Wicked is going to sweep the box office, and I, of course, have complete faith in Gladiator 2. Let’s just say the stakes are high—winner gets breakfast in bed for a week.”

The interviewer laughed along with him. “That’s adorable. Who’s winning so far?”

Pedro smirked. “Let’s just say she’s got me a little worried. But I’ll never admit that to her.”

LATER, BACKSTAGE

Pedro leaned against the wall, sipping from a glass of water while chatting with Paul Mescal. Their conversation flowed easily, but Pedro’s gaze kept drifting toward the entrance, as if hoping for some sort of miracle.

“You’ve got that look again,” Paul teased, nudging him with his elbow.

“What look?” Pedro asked, feigning ignorance.

“The ‘I’m desperately in love and missing my girl’ look,” Paul quipped with a grin.

Denzel Washington, who had just joined the conversation, chuckled. “He’s not wrong, man. You’ve been staring off into space like a lovesick teenager.”

Joe Quinn walked by, overhearing the exchange and throwing in his two cents. “It’s cute, though. Very romantic. Someone should write a movie about it.”

Pedro rolled his eyes, though a bashful smile crept onto his face. “Okay, okay, I miss her. Can you blame me? She’s halfway across the world, and I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Frank, Pedro’s manager, stepped in, giving him a supportive pat on the back. “You’ve got it bad, buddy. But hey, it’s not a bad problem to have.”

Frank couldn’t help but smile to himself, already knowing what Pedro didn’t—that you were on your way. He could only imagine Pedro’s reaction when he saw you walk through those doors.

“Alright,” Pedro said with a dramatic sigh, “can we please focus on the fact that we’re here for Gladiator 2 and not my love life?”

“Sure,” Paul said, smirking. “But if she shows up, we’re all watching you lose it.”

Pedro laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll take that bet.”

Little did he know, he was about to owe a lot of people a round of drinks.

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON, ODEON LUXE LEICESTER SQUARE — EVENING  

The crowd in the after-party buzzed with excitement, a mix of A-list chatter and glasses clinking. Pedro stood near Lux, their conversation about the night’s success lighthearted, though his gaze kept drifting toward the entrance. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, only that the ache of missing you hadn’t dulled, even amidst all the celebration.  

Lux, sharp-eyed as always, caught the slight shift in his expression and smirked. “You’ve got that look again,” she teased.  

“What look?” Pedro asked, feigning nonchalance as he sipped his drink.  

“The one that screams, ‘I wish she were here.’” Lux nudged his arm playfully.  

Before he could muster a witty retort, Lux’s eyes darted toward the entrance, widening in surprise. “Well, speak of the devil…”  

Pedro turned, following her gaze, and the breath left his lungs.  

There you were, stepping into the room, your black silk gown catching the dim lights perfectly. Your hair, slightly tousled from the rush, framed your face with an effortless beauty that made his heart stop. Heads turned as you walked in with Frank, but Pedro didn’t notice anyone else.  

He froze, jaw slack, his mind racing to comprehend that you were actually here.  

“Pedro,” Lux whispered, amused. “Close your mouth before you catch a fly.”  

But Pedro couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. All he could do was watch as you walked toward him, the soft smile on your lips turning into a grin as your eyes met his. He vaguely registered Joe, Paul, and Denzel laughing nearby, but he didn’t care. You were here.  

When you finally stopped in front of him, your grin widened, and you quipped, “Sorry, I’m late. Traffic was terrible—there’s a movie premiere happening, and I—”  

Before you could finish, Pedro moved.  

He swept you up in his arms, lifting you off your feet as a chorus of cheers, whistles, and laughter erupted around you. You let out a surprised giggle, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he held you close, burying his face against your shoulder.  

“Dios mío,” Pedro murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re here.”  

“I’m here,” you whispered back, your fingers threading through his curls.  

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes brimming with love. “I can’t believe this. You’re really here.”  

You smiled, tears threatening to spill as you cupped his face. “I couldn’t let you have all the fun without me.”  

Pedro didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance, kissing you with a fervor that made the entire room fade away. The kiss was deep, all-consuming, and when you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless.  

Your laughter broke the moment, and Pedro pressed his forehead to yours, his hands still firmly around your waist as if afraid you might disappear. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly.  

“For what?” you asked softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.  

“For being here. For being you. For… everything.” His voice was low, reverent. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’ll never stop thanking the universe for it.”  

You kissed him again, a soft press of lips this time, and smiled against his mouth. “You don’t have to thank the universe. Just let me love you.”  

Pedro let out a soft laugh, his arms tightening around you. “You’re incredible, you know that?”  

“You’ve mentioned it once or twice,” you teased, resting your head against his chest as the room slowly came back into focus.  

From the sidelines, Joe nudged Paul, chuckling. “Think he’s gonna let her go anytime soon?”  

Paul smirked. “Not a chance.”  

Denzel clinked his glass against Joe’s. “Now that’s a man in love.”  

And Pedro? He didn’t care about the laughter, the cameras, or even the early morning call time tomorrow. For now, you were in his arms, and nothing else mattered.

[l1tw1ck]

Simeon's Devotion

Sub!Bottom!FTM!Priest Simeon x Dom!Top!AMAB!Holy Knight Reader

Word Count: 2,410

Reverend Simeon, plagued by sinful thoughts of a certain holy knight, is suddenly struck with a high fever and abandons his God

AFAB Language Used | 2K Anniversary Request: For a Simeon Fic | [Breaking the Thermostat]

CW: Non-Con, Heavy Religious Themes, Dom/Sub, Virginity Loss, Bleeding, Size Difference, Oral Sex, Cum Swallowing, Cunnilingus, Belly Bulge, Womb Fucking, Squirting, Creampie, Kidnapping

You knock loudly against Simeon’s doors, heavily injured. You hear the sound of shuffling and see the lights turn on inside. Moments later, he opens the door for you.

Simeon calls out your name in shock. “What happened to you?!” He helps you inside.

“Ran into some demons..” You murmur, sitting down on his couch. “Can you heal me?”

“Of course!” Simeon hastily removes your clothes, leaving you in just an undershirt and boxers. You're both already used to this. “How many this time?”

“I wanna say…30?” You watch him kneel down and use his divine powers on your wounds.

“30?! Did something attract them?”

“I’m not sure. I was on patrol and everything seemed normal. The monsters looked strange too. They all looked like distorted versions of God and they were muttering things like ‘sinner’ and ‘dirty’.” 

“That's strange..”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen anything like it before.” You reach to rub your temple but Simeon quickly heals your headache. “Could I have something to eat? I know you're probably tired so something like crackers would be fine.”

“You need to eat a real meal. I don't mind cooking for you. You can sleep over too, all your clothes are washed.” Simeon finishes your last wound and stands up. It's very common for you to sleep over at Simeon’s due to exhaustion since demons usually show up on the outskirts of town and you live a bit further away. “Think you can take a shower?”

You stand up and groan, the sound making Simeon twitch. “I think so. Thanks, Simeon.”

“God must be disappointed in you. So much for being a priest.” You say, staring at Simeon. He’s wearing sexy see through lingerie and an extravagant matching sheer silk robe. His legs are spread and he’s leaning against his bed frame. His tears are glistening against his cheeks, they’re shining like glitter. “You're nothing but a dirty sinner.” You move his panties aside.

Simeon looks at you, batting his eyelashes. Another tear falls down his cheek. “You’re my god now.”

“That’s right, baby. You’re mine.” You slowly begin to ease your cock inside him. “And I’m yours.” You press your hand against his pelvis, a pretty marking appearing on it.

Simeon suddenly wakes up moaning your name with his hand stuffed in his underwear. He gasps and yanks it out. He quickly wipes his hand on his clothes and begins to pray. “Please deliver me from temptation.” He repeats the same phrase over and over but as his body begins to grow hot, his prayer becomes strange.

“Please give me [Name]’s cock–” Simeon gasps and covers his mouth. “No…Forgive me— I need his co—” He covers his mouth again. He can't talk. He attempts to pray silently but that doesn't work either. It just makes him feel even more horny.

He begins to absentmindedly remove all of his clothes, his hands moving on their own to touch his wet pussy. He leans back, eyes out of focus, and begins to touch himself but he doesn't really know how. He just rubs his folds, which feel extremely sensitive. “I’m…I’m a sinner..” He mumbles, still out of it. “And a slut.”

“Only [Name] will accept me now.” Simeon brings his hand up to his tattoo and presses on it, a wave of pleasure flowing through him. 

He stumbles out of the bed and drunkenly walks to his guest room, where you’re sleeping. Knocking didn't cross his mind as he opened the door. 

“Si- Simeon?” You ask sleepily, sitting up. “Is something wrong?” You can't tell that he's naked. You move to sit on the side of the bed and squint at him.

“Yes..” He says quietly, stepping towards you. He kneels in between your legs. “I need you.”

“What?!” You recoil. “Are you okay? Are you drunk?”

“I’m not drunk.” Simeon presses kisses along your legs down to your feet. “I’ll do anything you want, [Name]. Anything.”

“I think you need to drink some water…you're not thinking straight.” You get off of the bed. As you try to head towards the door, Simeon stops you.

“I don’t need water, I need you.” He pulls you closer, he’s somehow stronger than before, and forces you into a kiss. It doesn't take long for him to pass on his ‘fever’ to you. Heat rushes through your body as your rational thoughts dispel like bubbles. He pulls away and looks at you lovingly. 

“Simeon...” You hold his chin, speaking with a loving tone. “How beautiful.” You mumble. He moans your name breathily.

“Kneel for me.” You order. Simeon kneels once again. You pull down your shorts and boxers at the same time. His eyes widen, hearts forming in them, when he sees your thick length. The process of becoming a Holy Knight can alter someone's body in major ways but he never knew it could change by this much. “Open your mouth.” You run your fingers through his hair.

Simeon opens his mouth and lets you slide your cock inside it. His mouth is unbelievably hot. He can feel the corners of his lips stretching to fit you. The thought of you stretching his pussy open next makes him moan. He stares into your eyes as you begin to thrust. You're sure they're glowing. 

“Your mouth feels amazing.” You moan. Simeon moans as well. “‘S perfect for me..” You speed up your thrusts. He happily allows you to fuck his mouth. He closes his eyes and focuses on your voice. He’s so aroused it's becoming painful.

You tighten your grip on his hair as your thrusts become unruly and desperate. He looks at you again, this time with tears in his eyes. But the tears aren't because he’s upset. “You look so pretty when you cry.” You groan as you come inside his mouth. You slowly pull away as Simeon swallows your seed without hesitation. You're still hard and you both want more. You pick him up and slam him onto the bed. Somehow, the both of you are able to see perfectly in the dark. Maybe it has something to do with the glow in your eyes.

You spread his legs and smile at how wet he is. The marking on his lower stomach glows faintly as you physically observe his pussy with your fingers. He squirms around cutely. You kneel in between his legs, mirroring what he did earlier, and bury your face into his pussy. Simeon moans. “Yes– oh- yes~!” He sucks in a breath. “[Name]~!” It's like he's ascended to heaven. 

You drag your tongue up to his clit and gently suck on it. It quickly and unnaturally swells in your mouth. It feels like he’s stuck on the edge of an orgasm, although it feels good nonetheless. You slip a finger into his hole and then another when you realize how easily it entered him, despite his tightness. “Ooh- oh, [Name]~” Simeon squeezes your fingers tightly as you attempt to finger him. The constant flexing of his walls make it difficult to move them but you don't mind. You’re more interested in how that’ll feel when you fuck him.

He can tell he's not going to come from this. He's not sure why, it feels like there's something blocking him from doing so. “Put…put your cock inside me, please~”

You smile and move away, standing back up. “Of course, my love.” You lick your lips and line up your cock with his pussy, slowly coating your tip with his slick. He bites down on his lip and uncontrollably twitches as you begin to sink into his sopping warmth. He throws his head back and grips the bed sheets while moaning shamelessly. You're barely inside him. His entire pussy is throbbing so heavily, it's almost like a second heartbeat. Blood soon spills from your penetration. 

The true representation of his sin.

He moans your name with his enchanting voice. Your cock ‘knocks’ on his cervix and strangely enough, it seems to be allowing your entrance. Like it wants you to enter his womb. You don't think about how that should be impossible and slide further inside him. “It feels– feels so—” He gasps, squirting. His eyelashes are fluttering rapidly.

“There you go, baby. Come for me.” You rub his clit with your thumb. He writhes around, no longer squirting but his cunt’s still squeezing you like crazy. He isn't able to think about anything at all, his brain is overloaded. The outline of his tattoo is becoming a bright blue. “Good boy…keep going.” You praise him.

Simeon wants to say your name again but he is completely unable to speak.

“Let’s make up for all your years of abstaining.” You start to thrust. He slowly comes back down to earth with each thrust you make. 

“Ah–” His eyes are sparkling with tears. “You’re so big…stretching me out~” 

“That’s right, I’m making your pussy fit the shape of my cock.” You slowly rub the bulge on his stomach, fucking him at a slow pace. “Your body’s gonna remember me and only me.”

“That's– that’s all I want~” Simeon moans. “Only you~”

“So pretty…” You brush his hair out of his face. He looks like a painting. You bring your hands to his waist and slowly build up to a faster pace. He reaches for you so you lean in. He wraps his arms around you.

“I love you.” He says in a shaky tone.

“I love you too.” You look into his eyes. For a brief moment, he realizes this isn't the real you, then he brushes it off. He feels strange. “My sweet Simeon.” You kiss him. The bed starts rocking due to your quickened thrusts. You separate from the kiss, some saliva dripping down his lip.

He looks down and notices the marking on his womb is glowing and the same color as his eyes. His desire has been satisfied. It’s all over. He looks up at you, suddenly shaking like a scared rabbit. The artificial light flickers out like a used lightbulb. He can't see you clearly anymore. The only lights are the glow in your eyes and the faint moonlight. “[Name]?” He asks.

“Hm?”

You're still…you’re not aware like he is. He suddenly feels disgusting. He forced you into this. Even if he wasn't completely conscious. He should tell you to stop, but he doesn't want to. Is it so wrong to want a little more? “I…I-” He stutters. “Come- come inside~” If he can't have you, maybe he can have a part of you.

You kiss his cheek. “Of course.” You come inside of him only moments later. It feels like he forced it out of you. You look at him with an exhausted but happy expression before passing out on top of him. He doesn't try to move you.

You slowly wake up. You look around the room and notice a stain on the floor that you didn't notice before. And your bedsheets seem to be different too. You also feel a little strange. Refreshed, but strange. You get up and leave the guest room. You can smell coffee so you go down to the kitchen. “You're up pretty early. Don't you usually sleep in on Tuesdays?”

Simeon shrugs, not looking at you. “I felt like getting up early today.”

“Well, I’m not doing anything today. Maybe I’ll make breakfast this time?”

“It's okay. I’ll make it.”

“If you insist.” You know you can't convince him otherwise. “I wanna do something for you though. You deserve a gift.”

“Protecting my town is more than enough.”

“You’ll never change, huh?” You chuckle. “You know, the bed sheets look different from last night. Am I crazy?”

Simeon breaks the mug in his hand. You shoot up from your chair and rush over to him.

“I- I’m okay.” Simeon heals himself. “There wasn't anything in it yet.” 

“Good. You…seem weird today.” You notice he's not making eye contact with you.

“I..” He presses his forehead onto your chest and frowns, tears forming in his eyes. “I did something horrible last night.”

“What do you mean?” You bring him into a hug and gently rub his back to comfort him.

“Please…please don't hate me.”

“How could I hate you?”

“Last night…something strange came over me. I wasn't fully in control of myself and I forced you to…to..” He begins to sob.

“Simeon?” You ask, concerned.

“I forced you to have intercourse with me!” He blurts out, pulling away from you. He turns around and doesn't look at you.

You pause. “It must’ve been the work of a demon. It's okay, it's not your fault. It wasn't my ‘first time’ but…was it yours?”

Simeon’s eyes widen. “That wasn't your first?”

“No.”

He bites down on his nail. “When?”

“Um…maybe a decade ago?”

“Before you became a knight? And you haven't since then?”

“...Yes.” You assume he's uncomfortable due to his beliefs.

Simeon sighs. You were ‘reborn’ during your ceremony so you’re technically a virgin but you still have the experience. “Are you going to remain celibate?”

“I…well, I hope to find someone in the future. To marry, of course.”

“Oh.” He clenches his fist. “Do you have anyone you’re interested in?”

“I suppose I’ve caught a liking to Solomon, he—”

Simeon whips his head around. The look in his eyes is scary. “No.” He grabs your shirt. “No. You can't. You can't leave me.”

“Simeon?” You look at him in disbelief.

“I…I’m not letting you leave.”

Simeon looks at you sleeping peacefully on his bed. He isn't sure how, but he caused you to pass out and he was able to carry you here. He didn't even break a sweat. Due to a holy knight’s ability to neutralize certain forms of demon magic, Simeon is sure he isn't using that as you would've been fine if he was. But that leaves more questions to be answered.

He slides his hand down to his lower stomach and touches the glowing blue mark on his womb. It hasn't gone away. What is it? If it's not demonic then is it holy? How could this be holy?

He gently caresses your face. “I’m sorry, but I can't allow you to leave.”

You’ll be missed in the order of the holy knights but no one will worry when Simeon tells everyone he has bigger plans for you.

[sideeve]

men who for some reason love to see the sight of you withering in pleasure. crying for that sweet release you are oh so desperately chasing. but the attempt is futile without him. you need him. you’ll crack without the attention required.

his favorite sight is to see your bottom in the air as your face is pressed against the pillow, drool slipping from the side of your lips, tears soaked into the fabric. your arms are tied behind you as you take every last drop of what he’s giving you. mumbling something about “this is gonna take”. all five senses are gone. the feeling of his cock drilling into you is pure bliss. every thing turns white in your mind as you feel white ropes of his seed full your cunt to the brim; some even spilling out.

“nuh uh, sweetheart.” he pulls himself out, using his two fingers to catch the stray droplets before pushing them back into your sensitive, abused hole, making your body jolt.

men who like to have you on your back after a long day at your job, perfectly placed between your legs as he ravishes your cunt like the dog he is. he’s been waiting to see the sight of your dewy cunt, waiting to hear your incoherent whine of you begging for him to slow down. but the pleas fall deaf on his ears. all he can hears are the lewd noise that your sl*tty c*nt makes on impact.

ignis , DANTE , vergil , sam drake , joe goldberg , JOEL MILLER , aki hayakawa , KISHIBE , SUKUNA , GETO , nanami , toji , leon kennedy , JASON TODD , JOHN WICK , JOHN CONSTANTINE , wolverine , plus your favs !!

guidelines to request .

[keravnous]

diet mountain dew; john wick/fem!reader (smut, 18+)

dating john wick - the playlist

The Boogeyman is out to get you. Little does he know, that you too are willing to do quite a bunch of things just to stay alive.

warnings: blood, guns, knives, injuries, physical violence/fighting, assassination attempt; dub-con, rough sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), choking, dirty talk, spanking, a lot of manhandling bc for the love of god he doesn't know how to be soft anymore, gun kink, knife kink, size kink, strength kink, squirting, body worship if you blink, is this hate-fucking? idk; john has a horse cock change my mind; john is in his 50s, the reader is in her 20s; set somewhere after the series i guess? (I refuse to accept he's dead); problematic family relationship as a plot device; let's all collectively ignore the fact that he would actually never touch another woman or even dare to catch the smallest of feelings again; john gets off on the violence

word count: 10,6 k

thank you mel for a) listening to my ramblings and b) reading a good chunk of the first third of this dumpster fire and still going nuts about it, kissies and thank you v for listening to my keanu ramblings without losing faith in me

You wonder, if praying will help you. Probably not.

The sound of carnage, screams and gunshots in the hallway abruptly stops. You hear the assailant's heavy footsteps echoing off the floorboards outside of your hotel room mere seconds before the door bursts open, flies out of its hinges and rattles to the ground, wood creaking and breaking, splinters flying everywhere.

There had been a hit out on you for two days and every single soldier in your father's militia was ready to defend your life with their own.

Literally. You can tell by the man entering your suite.

You can tell by just how much he is covered in blood. You can tell by the way it drips down his forehead and how it soaks his white shirt - even the soles of his shoes creak with it. You can tell by the way he is totally and utterly drenched in red red red, and because you are certain it is not his.

They literally gave their life for you. The thought hits you like a blow to the head. People have died because of you. Fathers, brothers, sons. You recall your last conversation with your own father. They want us dead, they put out a contract on us - you had never seen him so nervous, so disheveled. What does that mean - his anxiety had been washing over you in seeping hot waves, sending cold shivers down your spine. It means, I need you out of the house - now.

Nausea bubbles in your stomach as the man now approaches you, casually strolls into the suite with his finger on the trigger of the gun dangling from his hand and you stare back at him - a deer in the headlights, frozen by fear in the eyes of its deadly predator. One of your father's men jumps from his cover, fires a shot and gets hit back with one straight between his eyes. It happens so quickly, that you can't turn your head away. You see the bullet piercing his forehead, blood splattering as soon as it exits the skull on the other side. His head flies back a little, and then his body goes limp, slack, as he falls to the ground with a heavy thud.

You want to scream. You want to vomit. You want to run. But there is nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide from him.

There's only one soldier left with you in the suite now and he is hiding around the corner, near the bathroom. The stranger - the assassin, the killer - does not lower the gun again, and does not let his eyes stray from you as he carefully enters the room. You feel terribly exposed, dressed only in your negligée, not daring to move.

Now, that the dim light of the suite's living room strikes his face, you can finally see him, see the man who has come to end you. He is older than you, maybe nearly twice your age, with dark hair and even darker eyes, matching his black suit. Lean and athletic, chest heaving slightly with physical exhaustion. The Boogeyman.

You do not know who or what you had expected, what cruel and dreadful images your brain had conjured up in the past 48 hours - 48 frightful hours of being moved around from hideout to hideout by your father's men, not staying in one place longer than necessary - but it certainly was not that. Not him. He is a lot more handsome than his reputation has led on. Seeing him on the subway around rush hour you would have never suspected him to be in this business. He looks nice. And that is exactly what makes him dangerous.

You have heard his name before. Echoing from the walls. Baba Yaga. Whispered with both: fear and respect. The Boogeyman. Blurted out: like a curse or like a blessing. Mister Wick: like redemption, like damnation. Jonathan, the king's son walking the earth as the devil.

John. The sound of his name is oddly human - disturbingly human - for someone looking as calm and collected, focused and concentrated as he does right now, while being drenched in blood and pointing a gun at you.

You must have said his name out loud, because his eyebrows twitch irritatedly, a movement so quick you barely missed it - must've sound desperate too, then.

Vision zeroing in on the barrel of his gun, your hands clutch the sofa's edge. There is so much adrenaline pumping through your veins right now that it freezes your limbs, has your ears ringing. The only thing responding to your brain fully are your eyes, and they snap away from the gun and over to the remaining soldier. It's a quick look, not even a second, but the hitman seems to recognize it and - with near inhumane speed - flicks his gun, and fires two shots. Blood splatters against the white door as the shots pin the soldier's body against it, and is it finally drops to the ground heavily it leaves a nasty trail, all wet and sticky and red.

Could be you.

You want to scream, but your body does not belong to you anymore, does not respond to your commands. It is a desperate, cruel sound that leaves your throat instead as you flinch with the sound of the gun being fired.

"Let's make this quick" his voice is gravelly and rough, like he has seen a thousand grim things and the pain of it has etched its way into his throat, left a nasty mark on every tone that ever dared to cross after.

That is when your fight or flight suddenly kicks in. Well, more specifically, it kicks in while he is speaking, as he starts to swap the empty clip of his gun.

He underestimates you. Everyone does. Your father, your brother. The countless men lying dead littered across the hotel's 25th floor. It will be his mistake.

You latch forward, grabbing the vase from the coffee table in front of you. The weight of it in your hand drags you down.

With all the strength you can muster, which is quite a lot considering the massive amounts of adrenaline that are currently amping up your body - you throw it at him. It connects with his forehead sharply; a deep, irritated noise bursting from his throat as it crashes, splinters and falls to the floor.

You are braver, braver than you should be as your assault does not end there, your body pushing you forward, leaping over the table and crashing into his broad shoulders.

I will not die today

Body ramming into his, he stumbles, as your fist connects with his chin. You have only been partially trained in hand-to-hand combat, after pleading your brother for months until he eventually gave in. Sadly, he wasn't nearly as thorough and honest with it as he was training his drug dealer and gun runners. But now, it is the only thing you can rely on.

There is nothing else; no one else left alive in that building who might be able to help you. It is up to you. So, you might as well try.

And Oh, does desperation fire up your blood.

I will not die today

The diversion does not last long and he - John John John only human only human only human - grabs you by you waist hard, fingers digging into your flesh and into the expensive silk, before he slams your body into the ground. All air leaves your lungs with a dull sound erupting from your chest, just as pain blooms around your ribs.

You cough and he looks down at you, confusion making his brows twitch, before cold-hearted determination takes over once more. John aims his gun at you once more, pulls back the hammer and you do not even think about it, your leg rising as you kick against his hand. The shot misses, buries itself deep into the expensive carpet a few inches next to your skull. You have no time to do either: panic or sigh in relief; instead, you deliver him a kick to his stomach, fighting yourself back onto your feet, punching him straight in the face.

John grunts and grabs your wrist, but you see it coming and throw yourself into his wide frame, wrapping your other arm around his back and thus hooking it underneath his right shoulder, dislocating his arm and preventing him from aiming his gun at you. You claw onto him as he twists your arm close to his stomach, while you wrap your legs around him, making it harder for John to shake you off.

I will not die today

You kick and dig the heel of your foot into his thighs and the back of his knees and he grunts and buckles a little, but turns wild and relentless quicker than you can blink, throws the two of you into the next wall. You gasp sharply as your back connects with the large mirror, splinters digging into your back - not deep enough to actually cut skin, but it stings nonetheless, the impact making you dizzy.

Sharp pain shoots through your back and your neck, but you are not willing to give up yet, as raw energy and rage and desperation surges through your body - one of your legs coming loose and your knee hitting his stomach repeatedly, making John grunt in pain and you use your momentum to dig your hand deep into his back, holding onto him and then swirling out of the deadlock he has got you in, jumping his back like a monkey.

His gun clatters to the ground and for a split second, the room falls silent. Then, roaring like an animal gone wild, he grabs your calves and slams his back into the nearest wall, has you screaming with the impact. You can feel blood pouring from your nose, feel it trickling down your lips.

I will not die today

John is stronger than you are, so so much stronger - the apex predator: all muscle, unbreakable focus and the sheer will to kill. But you are not only a little quicker; you also really want to stay alive. It is a force he rarely encounters. And quite frankly, it irritates him.

He may be older than you, taller than you and stronger than you but you have something he does not have: you actually still got something to lose.

And you fight like it, too. All scratches and sharp yells, as you punch and scrabble at his shoulders and tear at his tie, trying to strangle him with it. John is struggling against it, gasping for air and winding beneath your assault and then his grip around your claves grows hard like iron, seconds before he pulls - throws you over his head like you weigh nothing. You land on the expensive carpet with a heavy thud - groaning as you crash onto your side with sharp pain shooting through your shoulder, down your ribcage.

I will not die today

John sputters and stumbles forward, looking for his gun but you are quicker, kicking it away with your foot. It clatters back onto and slides over the wooden floorboards.

For a second you consider your choices, fighting yourself back onto your feet but John - a practiced and seasoned fighter - beats you to it and lands a blow to your upper back, sends you back down with him - a mess of sputtering saliva and painful groans. His body topples onto yours and he quickly rolls the two of you over the floor.

John is heavy and warm on top of you, as he keeps you in a tight headlock, your chest pressed to the floor and neck bend in a painful angle. He presses his strong forearm down onto your windpipe and you choke and cough, feet kicking, hands dragging across the wood, clawing at it feebly.

You can feel his breath on your cheek, hot and damp. You can feel his torso pressing against your back as he kneels behind you.

I will not die today

Mustering all your remaining strength, you trash against him, ramming your backside into his stomach. He grunts and for a split second, his grip loosens. It is all you need. Throwing your elbow back, you hit him in the chest and he caves in.

You cough, crawling forward and then scrambling back onto your feet, one of your negligée’s straps falling down your shoulder in the process. You hastily pull it back up, seconds before John launches a cascade of punches onto you.

A few of them hit you as you try to block them; dull pain igniting in your body, blooming in your face and arms. Your breath goes heavy as you stumble backwards. You cannot do this. There is no way. You just physically can't.

He is stronger. Taller. Heavier. Deadlier. Your body and every single muscle, bone, nerve in it aches and you wheeze but he is already onto you again, half-tackles you and grabs your waist, ready to smash you back onto the ground.

You cling onto him with all your remaining strength, struggling against his huge frame, wrapping your hands around his neck in an attempt to get him to stumble.

His hair tingles on your naked arms. Oh wait --

Tearing at his hair - which has him grunting in both, pain, and irritation at the unusual attempt - you clumsily pull yourself up onto his shoulders, cutting his face right above his eyebrow with your nails in the process until you finally wrap one leg around his throat and close it around there tightly, choking him. John tries to pull you off him and succeeds after quite the tussle, only to find your frame clinging to him, legs and arms wrapping around his body, hands scratching and feet kicking.

I will not fucking die today

In an attempt to either get rid of each other or submit the last blow, to finally kill the other, you two swirl through the room - a deadly dance of torn skin, smashed glass panes and mirrors, bruises and cuts. Somewhere in between kicks and punches, he managed to pick up his gun - and right now, you are mustering all of your exhausted strength to prevent the barrel from pressing against your skull.

Eventually, John crashes your bodies through a large wooden door, and is not quick enough - unable to stop his own oxe-like strength - to stop himself from stumbling into the room. The two of you only come a halt as his knees hit something soft and ironically that is what finally topples both of you over, landing onto the mattress of your bedroom with a soft thud and deep, exhausted grunts.

Your ears ring, and you are ready to lash out at him again despite the physical exhaustion, to strike him square across the face, as --

There is something hard pressing against your crotch.

The world falls silent.

No. No, there's no fucking way. It's got to bea hidden weapon. Must be.

But clearly, it is not. There, between your spread legs, his hard cock presses snugly against your panty-clad pussy.

And he just feels so huge - mouth-watering huge - that your body responds in its own way, hips snapping up, stuttering against the hard bulge. John lets go off a shaky, ragged breath, hand still clutching his gun. And you know, that this is your window.

Feeling the warmth that his body and his hard dick are radiating through his expensive suit, you roll your hips once - a languid, slow motion, rubbing your pussy over his bulge.

And he groans. A deep, primal sound that sounds a little coarse. John is looking at you, starring you down, but there is a shadow dancing over his eyes, turning his brown eyes into deep and dark, black pits that gives him away.

He is horny. The Boogeyman is fucking horny. You would laugh, if the realization wasn't knocking all air straight from your lungs. Because it just another reminder, proof of what he actually is: human.

And what a sight he is to see - eyes turning darker every second, his chest heaving with every breath and making it seem like his shirt is going to pop a button or two any second now, his cock prodding against its restraints and your clothed cunt.

It makes you want him. The thought leaves you dizzy, makes you gasp.

Apparently, that is all he needs to roll his hips back into yours. And that - that is just unfair. It's playing dirty. It's, it's -- His dick feels huge as it trails along your folds, has the muscles in your abdomen clenching.

"Fuck", you breathe, a little overwhelmed with and helpless at the sudden surge of lust that ignites your body, the wetness pooling between your legs.

John is not saying anything, just stares you down while he continues to slooowly roll his hips into yours, grinds his cock against your cunt. Your pelvis twitches upward as you start to meet his movements, and then you can hear it. He let's go of a deep breath, and it sounds like the faintest moan.

You need to hear more of that. You need more of him, your cunt aching and hole clenching around nothing already.

"John", and this time you say his name - consciously - it sounds a different way of desperate: your voice reduced to a small whisper, torn at the edges by a wanton whimper ripping from your throat.

If it throws him off-guard he does not show it, does not let you see it. Instead, he grabs your chin hard, gaze locking with yours. Dark pupils blown wide, swallowing the honey-brown of his eyes, and your breath hitches.

"Yeah?", he rasps, and it does not take more than one long look from you for him to lean in, to press his lips onto yours.

The kiss tastes of blood and adrenaline and doom, and you relish in it. Relishing the way his lips move against yours and his beard tickles a little, relishing how his tongue presses into your mouth. It feels like he is eating you whole, licking into your mouth, one hand dancing over your waist - featherlight, like he doesn't know how to touch a body without hurting someone, destroying someone.

I will not die today, motherfucker

Your whole body now sings with it, the security of an impending victory, as you roll your hips into his once more, your tongue now licking back into his mouth. For a second you think about how to strike again, now that he is seemingly distracted, but all will to fight leaves your body as one of his hands brushes over your knee, wanders further and eventually rests on your thigh.

The touch is electrifying and then his hand grows braver, his movements more certain, as he grabs your thigh, feels you up. It happens so suddenly, that you gasp into the kiss.

John parts from you, his lips a little plush already. "Oh God", you whisper as you stare Death Turned Human straight in the face, not a single thought remaining in your skull despite your lust.

He doesn't speak, as he gently let’s go off your leg and straightens back up and for a second you think he is going to hurt you, with the way his brows are furrowed - but he doesn't.

Instead, he moves in, right over your comparably tiny frame - a mountain of a man. John kneels above you, his weight pinning you down while he straddles your thighs and Jesus fucking Christ - what a sight he is to see.

Dark locks falling into his forehead, a little sticky with sweat and the bits of blood from the cut your nails gave him moments ago - right above his left eyebrow, still lazily trickling down into his lashes. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, as he hastily gets rid of his jacket, carelessly drops it to the ground. His black button-down clings to his muscular body underneath his waistcoat and his equally as muscular thighs pin you down to the bed, black fabric nearly tearing at the seams. And then there is his hard cock.

It looks as huge as it felt, with the way it bulges his pants, the outline of it clearly visible as it buckles proudly against its restraints. You are certain, you will not be able to close your hand around it fully - not a chance.

One of his hands - the one lacking a finger, which you only now notice and what sends shivers down your spine - wanders over your body, pulling your negligée down in the process, right tit spilling out of the soft silk. He immediately grabs it, cups it with his large hand and squeezes. You mewl, marveling at just how big his hand is, just as his whole body is in comparison to you. His fucked-up finger digs into the flesh, sending shivers down your spine.

John's hand gropes your tit, before he impatiently pulls the neckline down roughly. You sigh, arousal shooting down your spine and tingling in your lower belly, as two of his fingers nudge your nipple, pinch it.

He watches your face intently, as he continues to grope you, rolls your nipple between his fingers. You mewl, breath accelerating a little but it is just not enough and you buck your hips upwards. John grunts in, what you assume is an approving manner, and let's go off your tit, reaches to his belt at his loins.

Quickly pulling a knife from God-knows-where exactly, a sharp blade enters your vision.

You blink, panic seeping through your lust and your legs twitch a little with fear. If John notices it, he neither shows it nor does he say anything, just moves the knife closer to your body.

The blade shines in the dim light as it dances over your exposed thighs carefully, the metal cooly pressing against your skin, before he flicks it and cuts your negligée open. The thin, soft fabric cleanly cut in half it now lazily slides from your aching body, falls to its sides. Your chest heaves, shivers running down your arms and back.

It happens so quickly that you can only blink. As your brain finally catches up with your eyes, you come to realize that he is holding a real fucking tactical knife. You have thrown one once - they are sharp as hell and deadlier than a bullet. The sound of fabric tearing easily, like paper, proves your point.

And John's movements with the blade are so fast that your breath hitches, a little afraid he might cut you. But he does not, instead, he quickly pulls the torn silk off you and away from under you, carelessly tosses it into the dark of the room.

The edge of the blade dances over your skin and you do not dare to breathe, as he trails it up and down your curves, gently nudges your nipples. "I could kill you", he says calmly and then, in lightning speed, presses the blade into the crook of your neck. Your head sinks back into the mattress, in an instinct to flee the sharp edge.

All it does is to expose your neck further and something gleams in John's eyes, as he presses the sharp tip down slowly, carefully nudging your skin with it. The metal is cold and hard and sharp and your breath hitches. Just a little bit more and it might burst your skin, draw blood.

But, to your own confusion, you do not feel threatened anymore. Oddly enough, your nerves tingle with excitement. You blame it on the already high levels of adrenaline that still pump through your veins, rushing back and forth from your brain and your lungs, but a small voice inside of your head whisper gently, deviously, that you know That's not it. And he knows it, too.

It's in his eyes as well, the sheer excitement of it all, the fucked-up pleasure it evokes in the both of you lays heavy in the air.

It turns you fucking on. It turns you on, that the man who - minutes ago - tried you kill you and did hurt you very fucking badly in the process of it, now decides to let you live.

It turns you on, that you are at his mercy.

It turns you on, that he decided to spare you - just for now.

It turns you on, that these large and strong hands holding the knife have that sort of power over you. And thus, as the blade nudges your head back further, you moan.

"I could cut your throat", John's voice is heavy and thick with arousal and you can feel your heartbeat picking up, breath accelerating. His gaze drops down, watches the rapid rising and falling of your breasts hungrily, while another soft moan escapes from your lips.

"Don't", you breathe softly.

The knife practically burns on your skin, and you can feel arousal flooding your clothed pussy, rubbing your thighs together for any sort of friction. John can feel your squirming underneath him, but he can also see your eyes turning watery and dark with lust, pupils blown and a pretty pink spreading on your cheeks, your breath growing shallow. And he just really needs to fucking taste you right now.

As quickly as it appeared, the blade vanishes from your throat before he twirls the knife like the ruthless, reckless professional that he is, and buries it deep to the hilt in the mattress next to you. The sharp sound as it pierces the thick fabric has the hairs on your body standing up, goosebumps rolling over your skin.

"I'll do it later", he rumbles - casually, like he is talking about doing chores or picking up groceries - before hunching over you, grabbing your chin with his fucked-up hand, and kissing you again. His tongue immediately pushes into your mouth, like he is starving to taste you.

John eats you whole, with the way his lips move against yours. His hand cups your face, tongue licking into your mouth, toying with yours. His kiss steals your breath and you start to get dizzy with it, hips bucking. You can feel his lips curling up and then he parts from you, leaving you a gasping mess, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth.

"Let me touch you, John", you whisper, voice a little small because you do not know why you feel that way, and if he will even allow it. But you just need to feel him.

For a long moment his gaze dances over your face and something shifts behind his eyes, like a shadow gets lifted and then very quickly returns. Ultimately, he gives a court nod, so small you nearly miss it and gives you a little more room while straightening back up.

Carefully, as if not to spook him, you dart one hand out, place it on his chest. The muscle is firm underneath his suit and you run your hand along the lapel of his jacket, down and then back up, before it slips beneath it.

John's body radiates warmth under the black fabric of his shirt and your other hand comes up, before you shove the jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor next to the bed.

Your breath hitches.

He is wearing a holster, a reminder of his deadliness, of the gun laying somewhere next to you. Maybe, he sees the fear returning in your eyes, but he is quick to shrug the holster off, throws it into the dark where it clatters onto the wooden floor boards. What is left in front of you are broad shoulders and a muscular chest, the fabric nearly tearing at his movements.

As you run your hands over it, you cannot help yourself - you need to fucking feel him for real.

Quickly making work of his waistcoat and tie you toss both to the side carelessly, before your hands roam his broad chest. His button-down clings snugly against his upper body and you can feel the muscles work beneath the black fabric as your hands brush over them. You tug at the shirt, pulling its tails from his pants before hastily opening the first few buttons. The skin underneath is pale, littered by blue - red - black bruises, birthmarks scattered in between like stars. You pop open the rest of the buttons, greedy to touch him. And as the shirt falls to the sides your hands are already onto his chest, roaming over and admiring the muscular, defined canvas of strength, that violence has painted a pretty picture on.

John is watching you intently as you undress him and then explore his body, your pupils blown wide and dark, mouth agape a little. He is a little taken aback by it - by someone not seeing his body as the ultimate tool of death that it is, but as something else, that he cannot really pinpoint because he can't even look in the mirror without seeing destruction and decay. But the way your gaze wanders over his body, the way you touch him, is different from that and he has not felt anything like it in years.

And John wants. Carnal desire tugs at his brain, shoots arousal between his legs, makes his cock twitch and a low growl escaping his throat.

The sound gets you going: pushing yourself up with one hand, the other wrapping around his strong neck for leverage as you sit up, mouth immediately clutching to his throat. He tastes of sweat and after-shave - sharp and musky - and you run your tongue over his skin greedily, licking and sucking at the skin while your naked body presses against his.

It disarms him. The gentle touch that you put his body up to, while everything still aches from plowing through the better half of your father's militia and beating the hell out of you, confuses him. Your touch, your lips on his skin are soft and not aiming to hurt - instead, they grow more and more needy, wanton and hasty, as you lick over his bruised skin, tasting his sweat. Your hands over his abdomen caress his defined muscles, in awe of his utter strength, thumbs brushing through the soft and dark trail of hair leading beneath the waistband of his trousers. And all John can do, is watch, his gaze locking with yours as goosebumps erupt on his skin.

And you - oh you; your head swims with the way you turn this animal into a human again, unlock a different set of animalistic needs within him and hearing John's breath growing heavy really fucking does it for you, feeling his scarred and beaten-up skin underneath your hands, wrapping them around the deadly machine that is his body. It makes you want more.

Shedding his blood-stained shirt off of his shoulders, your hands roam over his upper back - feeling the scars there: of knives, larger and small ones and round ones of bullets that once pierced his skin. There is something else, a burn scar, in the shape of a cross and he hisses as your fingers brush over it, nails digging into the stunted skin.

It pulls John out of his stasis, reminds him of who he is and you can feel the air swinging with it seconds before he moves. His large hands wrap around your shoulders and then he pulls you off him, throws you back onto the mattress. You yelp, eyes growing wide as you watch his face as it turns from lightly dazed back to stern, wild, with his brows furrowed.

"That's enough", he says, voice coarse and it still feels like a small victory, even though he spreads your legs roughly, hands digging deep into your thighs - hard enough to bruise - before he kneels between them. He yanks your body forward at the back of your knees, watches your tits bounce and then leans in, his lips immediately attacking your throat, your neck.

His lips are surprisingly soft against your skin, his beard tickling a little as it brushes over your tits, your stomach, your thighs while his tongue licks fat stripes over your nipples and down down down your upper body, right to your navel. One of his hands creeps up your body once more and roughly cups your tit, squeezes, and gropes it, rolls your hardened nipple between his index and middle finger. His stunted ring-finger digs deep into your tit and you gasp, hips bucking. John's lips suck and nibble at your skin, before eventually ghosting over your pubic bone, teasing you before assaulting your thighs again, teeth biting down gently into the soft flesh. You gasp and moan while he gropes your body, inhales your scent - as you watch how his lips, tongue, and teeth dance over your thighs, moving closer to your cunt.

John finally, finally, puts his mouth onto your pussy, peppers open-mouthed kisses around your clit, before clothing his lips around it and sucking on it hard through your panties. Your hips buck as a high-pitched moan erupts from your throat, hands flying into his greying locks.

"Fuck", you whine, feeling fresh wetness flooding your folds, dampening the thin fabric further. John can see the outlines of your wet pussy pressing against your panties and parts from your clit momentarily, only to lick a fat stripe over your clothed cunt, watching it twitch.

"That's fucking pretty", he rasps, gaze locking with yours and you feel all air leaving your lungs. His eyes are so fucking dark, like gleaming black pits swallowing you whole, his breath a little flat with arousal.

You want him to fuck you. Really fuck you. To plow you open, rail you until you cannot sit nor walk. He is already so so close to you, but too far away at the same time. "Please", is all you manage to utter out. And it seems to be sufficient enough for him; seems to get across what you want, what you need.

John's fingers wrap around the front of your lace slip, tugging at the fabric - that rubs along your cunt at the sudden motion and has you gasping quietly - and then he pulls. The lace tears easily as he rips it apart, and cool air hits your wet and hot pussy, as he practically peels you out of your underwear, throws it to the side. The look on his face is wild and you can hear him taking a deep breath, smelling your arousal, before he spreads your folds apart with his thumbs, gaze wandering over your plump and flushed cunt.

Teasingly brushing over your clit with his thumb, John watches your reaction intently. And fuck, you do not disappoint. Throwing your head back, you moan, drawing in a deep breath through your opened mouth that heaves your chest, your eyelids fluttering.

You are dying for him to touch you and as he does, it feels like your body catches fire - lust washing away the dull pain in your limbs and near your ribs.

"Oh God", you breathe out as his thumb draws another wide and slow circle over your clit, your hands darting out and grabbing the sheets "Please."

And John complies, his thumb rubbing over your clit in a slow but steady rhythm.

Gasping, your hands clutch the sheets, knees darting away from each other, giving him more space. John accepts the invitation, grabs one thigh hard, fucked up ring-finger digging deep into your skin. His fingers move further, abandons your clit and dance over your folds, down to your hole. It flutters as two of his digits tease it, gently circling around it.

"Please", you whine once more, lifting your hips a little, a desperate noise leaving your throat. John smirks to himself, before pushing two of his fingers into you.

The stretch is sudden and bigger than expected and you moan coarsely, as he pushes his digits along your walls deeply and nestles them into your seeping hot cunt up to his knuckles. And Jesus, you feel so full already; your head swimming as you consider how big his cock must feel, then.

Your breath goes quick and shallowly as he starts to move them, and then he leans in. Nudges your clit with the tip of his tongue, licks over it.

You feel like combusting on the spot: your nerves tingling with arousal, your whole body still aching from the beating you gave each other earlier - the pain in your back blooming as you stretch it with your hips desperately shoving themselves near his touch - your pussy squeezing his fingers.

John pumps his thick fingers in and out of you, his tongue rubbing and circling your clit and soft, needy moans fall from your lips. Obscene, wet sounds fill the air, mingle with your moans and heavy breathing. His lips close in around your clit, sucking at it while his fingers rub along your spongy walls and your cunt squeezes them hard as fresh wetness floods your folds, your squirt wetting his beard and dripping down on the sheets below.

You can hear - feel - John humming against your pussy, peppering the wet skin with open mouthed kisses, licking over it, and tasting your slick.

You feel so fucking good - lust pulsating through your veins, loins on fire - and your head falls to the side, body rocking with sharp gasps and your mouth agape, eyelids fluttering as --

There's the gun. And the knife.

You could easily grab either one or the other next to you, pull the blade out of the matress or the hammer back; put a bullet right between his eyes or plow the blade deep deep into his skull. Killing the Boogeyman. Killing Baba Yaga.

That would do wonders to your family's business. It would emancipate you from it, you would be free. Free to rule.

"Thinking 'bout killing me?", John rumbles, tongue licking a fat stripe over your cunt, nudging your clit. Your gaze flickers back to him: hair a mess, eyes gleaming darkly, hands on your thighs to keep your legs spread. He does not look surprised. Neither does he look worried.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head: he is toying with you. Has been the whole fucking time. The wolf hunting the deer, running a few rounds through the woods to weaken it; its breath whistling with exhaustion, long legs buckling before it collapses - an easy kill. An easy kill for an old wolf, one, that can't quite handle a real hunt anymore.

But maybe, just maybe - judging from the look in his eyes - he got lost in his own game. Its reins slipped from his bloody hands, the wolf tumbling to the ground.

Looking back at him, your lips curl into a sweet smile. "Not anymore", your hand darts out, brushing the loose strands of dark hair from his face - the soft gesture leaving him visibly confused -, "John."

Two can play this game. And maybe, just maybe, the deer can tire the wolf out first.

Something gleams in John's eyes, dances over them like a shadow and he seems to accept the challenge - readying to tire you out - tongue licking over your clit once more, making you shiver and mewl, as he pulls his fingers out of your dripping hole. You feel empty and --

"Do you really think, you could kill me?", he rumbles, voice deep and rough around the edges, "Stupid slut."

And then, quicker than your brain can process it, his hand comes down on your dripping wet pussy.

Your breath hitches, topples over and leaves your throat as a raw, needy moan. Softly stinging pain blooms between your folds and sets your nerves on fire. Blame it on the bruises, blame it on the pain you both inflicted on each other moments ago, but: it riles you up. Mingles with your aching bones and aching cunt, has you arching your back.

"Y'really think you could kill me", he doesn't sound offended, not even amused - voice plain, like he is inquiring if you really believed the earth to be flat. Like you really are stupid.

And you start to feel stupid, too. There was never a chance. You never had a chance. Your death was sealed, determined the second John stepped into the hotel.

You were stupid to believe you could outrun or beat him. You are stupid. And John has every right to show you, teach you, punish you for it.

Giving your cunt another firm slap, John watches your hips twitch, hears your pussy squelching and soft moans falling from your lips. "Shit", you sigh and he slaps your wet pussy once more, feels your slick folds wetting the palm of his hand.

"D'you like that, girl?", and as your only response are wanton gasps falling from your mouth John chuckles deeply, gives your pulsating cunt another two firm slaps. Seeing how he is pulling you apart, how good he makes you feel really seems to do it for him, gets him quite talkative.

"Uh-huh", you make dumbly, quite illiterate, watching him stroking your flushed, hot cunt with two of his fingers. Shivers run down your spine.

And then he leans back in, licks a fat stripe over your sensitive, flushed cunt, from the hole up to the clit.

You squirm, mewl as his beard brushes over your overstimulated skin, leaving a slight burn that mingles deliciously with a fresh wave of arousal that floods your body scalp to toes.

The muscles in your abdomen clench as two of his fingers circle your fluttering hole and then push in, rubbing along your plush walls agonizingly slowly and you can feel yourself tightening around it. Your juices squelch from your cunt as you squirt against his tongue and your slick runs down your folds, wets his fingers and palm while his tongue laps at your pussy, tasting your sweetness.

John pushes is fingers deeper as you moan and sigh, hands fisting his hair and hips moving against his tongue, his digits thrusting into you.

"Oh god", you huff as his lips close in around your clit, sucking on it and the tip of his tongue flicking against it occasionally.

Another wave of fresh wetness floods your cunt as you squirt once more, wetting the sheets below, your slick running down John's wrist.

John parts from your clit, nudges it with his tongue, his beard glistening with your juices.

"Yeah, that's fucking it", another one of his thick fingers pumps itself into your tight little hole and his other hand - also slick with your juices - grabs your thigh, "That's a good girl."

You feel so full, your spine feels like it's on fire and your brain tingles with it, sends wave of pleasure down down down your body; muscles in your loins clenching, chest heaving. It becomes all too much as he leans back in, rubs his tongue over your clit, lips sucking and teasing your folds.

The slight burn of John's beard tickling your plush, hot cunt. His fingers working your open and stretching your tight little hole open far and wide, obscene squelching sounds filling the air as he works you open, brushing against your g-spot occasionally and making you see stars.

But it's too little. It's just not enough.

"Fuck", you whine as John's thick fingers brush over your g-spot with quite some force, tongue lapping at your seeping cunt, "Shit, please. Please, just fuck me, please!"

You can feel him grinning against your wet cunt, beard a little sticky with your juices, letting go of your pussy with an obscene pop. "Yeah", he licks his lips, tastes you on his tongue, "D'you want my cock?"

And that - that might be what makes you lose your mind. Because yes. Yes, you do.

You have been craving to touch it, to feel it since it had pressed against your clothed pussy earlier. Thus, all dignity leaves your body with one, clean whine that breaks free from your throat.

"Yes, fuck - oh god, John", you brabble, legs falling apart further, inviting him in, his digits sinking deeper into your soaking wet hole, "Shit, please fuck me, John - please, please, please --"

Pleas are still falling from your lips like a chant, as a surprising noise breaks the silence, so strangely beautiful that it has you nearly shuddering: John is laughing. It's a nice baritone sound, and the fine lines around his eyes crinkle with it - it's so beautiful, that it drowns the world out. You watch him in awe, as he shakes his head, avoids your gaze.

"Jesus. Look at you", he huffs, voice dripping thickly with amusement, "If you need it that badly--"

Straightening back up and kneeling between your legs, John slips his fingers from your cunt and makes quick work of his belt, trousers, and boxers. The second he frees is cock, you start to drool like a fucking pavlovian-dog.

His dick is so fucking huge. It is nicely curved and cut, the bulbous pink head glistening with pre-cum and a thick, pumping vein at the bottom that rakes from the base to the tip, as it rests between trimmed, dark pubic hair. His cock bobs against his abdomen as it bounces free, smears the pre-cum along the pale skin, twitches at the sudden contact. And Jesus fucking Christ, you just want to fucking touch it, feel its velvety skin in your palm. But you just know that you won't even be able to wrap your hand around its base fully, it's impossible, it--

"I-it won't fit", you whisper, a little taken aback by his sheer size.

"Oh, I'll make it fit, baby."

John takes his cock in one hand, thumb right beneath its head, and rubs it against your slit. And Jesus fucking Christ. Your hips snap up, meet his movements, and he grunts while he spreads his pre-cum along your cunt, gathers your slick. The thick head of his dick prods against your entrance and you take a deep breath, looking down between your legs. You watch how he slooowly pushes in and you gasp at the sudden intrusion, the delicious stretch making you moan.

His cock feels so fucking big, hot, and heavy, as he nestles the tip in, your hole clenching around it. John's brows furrow, and he doesn't wait long until he pushes his cock in further.

The thick base starts to stretch your slim rings of muscles, a sharp pain shooting through it. He can feel your hole protesting, can see you wincing. "Breathe, baby", he hums, "Let me do the rest."

His coarse voice mingles with his words and the waves of pleasure shooting through your body despite the dull pain, conjures up a pretty pretty image that floods your brain - there's sunlight everywhere, orange rays of it hitting a bed covered in white sheets, sweaty bodies on top of it; limbs entangled, hands intertwined with their golden rings shining brightly in the warm light, heavy breathing and sloppy kisses, and lazy thrusts as his cock fucks you awake. The thought makes you dizzy, your legs falling apart and hole fluttering open, inviting him in.

The slight burn leaves you a gasping, whimpering mess as he pushes himself in deep, nestles his huge cock in between your aching, hot, and tight walls.

And John feels like he is going to pass out. No blow to the head, no bullet to the chest, no knife to the stomach could ever make him feel as dizzy as the feeling of your hot cunt squeezing him does right now. His whole body is vibrating with want and lust and he just really hopes that you don't notice that he has gotten a little rusty. The thought quickly gets drowned-out as he looks down, where his thick cock practically splits you open, vanishes in your hole.

"Shit", he huffs out, places one large hand on your stomach and thrusts. Feeling himself moving inside of you has him moaning, gaze shooting up to you, meeting your eyes, as his hand presses down. "You feel me right here, baby?", he rasps and you nod, mouth agape by the sheer force of his thrust, tip of his cock prodding your cervix.

John can see his cock moving inside of you, the way your stomach bulges a little. He gets a little dizzy with, and then his eyes make the mistake of moving up to your face. And it takes a whole lot of fucking will-power of him to not just thrust and thrust and thrust and fuck you until you cry, bleed.

You are so fucking pretty. Mouth agape you watch how his cock vanishes between your legs, splits your cunt open, with his eyes heavy-lidded and cheeks flushed. Your lips are plush and red from his assault.

Your hands grip the sheets and your breasts heave with your deep breaths, that grow a little more flaccid. Next to you lays his gun, knife still buried into the mattress. His eyes drop to the weapons and his breath hitches. And for a split second, like a flash of light, he wonders what in God's name he's doing here. He is a professional. The Ballerina works like that. He doesn't.

A sweet, sweet noise rips him out of his thoughts. "J-john", you mewl, eyes still trained on his massive dick splitting you open, "I-it, it's --"

"Yeah?", he breathes, the sound all soft and careful around the edges.

"Heavy", you breathe.

"Does it hurt?", he kind of wants it to. Make you pay for what you did to him. He kind of doesn't want it to. Make you enjoy what he's got to give.

John realizes he is fucked.

You nod, head flying back into the cushions, while your brows dart together.

John's free hand flies to your clit, nudges it gently, before slowly rubbing wide circles over it. You gasp, as you feel fresh wetness flooding your cunt and dripping down your folds to where his cock splits your hole open, pools around it. He carefully pulls out a little and then pushes back in, assisted by your slick. The way you moan spurs him on and the circles on your clit grow faster and smaller.

Aching your back, you lean into the touch. "That's a good girl", he whispers, voice raw and coarse, dripping with lust and the exhaustion of holding back. John bottoms out, while continuing to rub your clit and he can feel your walls growing plush, your hole fluttering around his dick, relaxing with your hot, seeping cunt inviting him in. "Feels good?"

"Yeah, fuck", you feel like you are being split open, with his thick cock filling you to the brim and rubbing along your walls with every little movement, the thick head prodding gently against your cervix, "Shit, John."

It feels so fucking good, all thoughts being washed away from your brain as he starts to move carefully, thrusts into you once, twice. You moan, lips slightly parted, before your gaze flies to him.

And Fuck. John's chest is flushed a little, muscles of his abdomen flexing with every thrust while his gaze is trained down to where his cock fucks into you, brows darted together a little and his breathing audible.

"John?", you whisper, and his gaze immediately shoots up to you as your comparably tiny hand wraps around the wrist of his hand that is still rubbing your clit.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck me."

For a long moment, he just looks at you and you think - no, you are convinced - that you can see a glimpse of the human being he once was. Caring, sweet and gentle; as he seems to really take it into consideration if you are ready yet, if you know what you are begging for.

Apparently, he does deem you prepared enough, and the soft gaze gets replaced by a dark gleam as all gentleness vanishes from his face once more. Without a warning, John rolls his hips back only to thrust into you again, deep, and hard, immediately picking up a quick rhythm.

It comes as a genuine surprise to you and you gasp, mewling but it quickly feels just so fucking good, practically lights your body up and leaves every nerve-ending on fire, each thrust has you moaning loudly.

It spurs him on, makes him grunt and for a while, you both just watch him gliding in and out of your tight hole, with him feeling your muscles squeezing him and you feeling his cock stretching your open further and further. Your lips as slightly parted and his brows are furrowed as he rolls his hips into yours and you feel time getting lost on you, the only thing of importance remaining is the feeling of him filling you up. John's hands roam your body, wandering over your thighs and your stomach, your hips before angling your leg, pushing the heel of your foot on his shoulder, and grabbing your ankle with one hand, his dick slips into you even further, balls slapping against your ass heavily with each thrust.

You can tell that John has not fucked in a long, long time. It's not the way he does it - all fluid, languid thrust of his hips, muscles dancing under the soft skin. It's mostly the way he pants and grunts - sounds just as desperate as you feel. And still, he has the stamina of a racehorse.

You can feel that he wants to prove it, too, as his free hand grabs your thigh and hoists your other leg over his hip bone, practically pulling your lower half off the bed in the process. Your pelvis now clings to his, obscene sounds of his cock fucking into your wet pussy filling the air while he huffs with his thrusts, yet does not slow down.

The grip on both, your ankle and your thigh are hard, and you are certain his hands will leave a bruise but you just cannot bring yourself to care. Deep down you know, that someone will see them: your maids, your friends, your family.

But all thoughts, all worries get swapped from your brain as your gaze wanders up from where John's dick hammers into you steadily, rakes over his defined stomach and chest and finally, finally lands on his face.

He looks downright, utterly, and breathtakingly -- pornographic.

John's dark pupils blown wide gleaming with arousal, his cheeks are slightly blushed and a thin layer of sweat makes him glow in the dim light of the living room falling onto the bed. It surrounds him like a halo, a Saint of Death and Decay, with his dark hair falling into his forehead and onto his shoulders. He brushes it out of the way with his stunted hand, a ragged breath making his chest heave. There is still some of your slick wetting his beard.

You can't help your mind from going there, from wondering how different things could have been. What it would be like if you had met me in a bar instead of him entering your suite, leaving the hallway behind him looking like a slaughterhouse. Maybe he would have laughed at your jokes, in the dim light of your favorite bar in the city. Maybe he would have liked the same music as you do. Maybe, just maybe, he would have brought you home only to stay the night and fuck you until you would have lost your goddamn mind.

Your hand wanders down your body, strokes your waist and hip in the process, before it languidly drops between your spread legs, two fingers darting out and rubbing circles over your sensitive clit.

John moves quickly, his usual deadly precision shattering your peaceful fantasy, his hand ditching your thigh and closing in around your waist. "Don't you fuckin' touch yourself", he growls, and it's the first time you hear real, actual emotion dwelling in his throat - not his toneless, cold and mechanical rumble. He sounds pissed. Offended.

And the best part is: it seems to get him fucking going.

John leans in, your calf still resting on his shoulder and the slight pain of the stretch is delicious as he nearly folds your body in half. You can feel his dick sliding in even deeper into your hole and you gasp and whine, one hand coming up to dig into his biceps to just hold on. Hold on, while he pounds into you with perfectly angled, deep and strong thrusts, hitting your g-spot with every single one of them.

You know that the suite's door is in shambles, that anyone could walk in here and see you having your brains fucked out by the man who is here to kill you - but you don't care. Part of it is, because the gun is still resting next to your head on the sheets. You could just grab it and shoot anyone dead in heartbeat, whoever is trying to disturb the pleasure that shoots through your body.

But it is also him.

It's the way John is towering over you, back hunched, looking all wide and powerful and deadly, with the way he shields your body from view and harm as he thrusts into you. As he pushes all his rage, adrenaline, and strength into your tight hole, groans, and pants into your ear.

There is nothing you can do, despite holding onto him, nails digging into his back, clutching his broad shoulders, fingers running over his tattoos desperately. He is fucking the living daylight out of you, your body moving like a ragdoll underneath the mountain of muscles and strength. Your cunt is being split open by his cock, as you feel him hammering into you and you feel like you are going to lose your mind, panting and moaning with each of his thrusts.

"John, fuck", you moan sweetly, eyes rolling into your skull as he pounds into you, "You feel so fucking good, shit --"

"Yeah", he huffs, his forehead slowly sinking onto yours, "You too, baby."

You can see his eyelids fluttering, feel his upper body heaving beneath your hands, smell the blood on his skin, mingling with his musky scent. Blaming it on the sickening cocktail of hormones that is flooding both - your brain and your body - you lean in, your lips desperately smacking against his.

And Jesus Fucking Christ. Does John kiss you.

Kisses you like he is starving for it, licking back into your mouth - his body pressing yours into the mattress with his whole weight and muscle, while still thrusting into you.

Your hands tangle into his hair, tugging at it. John moans against your lips and your stomach flutters at the sound, and you want more. One hand moves to lay at the crook of his neck and your tongue presses against his, licking back into his mouth. Adding some force to his neck you invite John deeper into the kiss, and he follows suite, steals you the last bit of air your lungs were holding. Panting you part from him, thumb brushing over the crook of his neck.

Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself. You feel so alive and you want him to wreck you, to leave something behind that you will remember for every day your heart continues to beat. Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself but to whisper: "Harder."

John blinks, hips stuttering. And then, he grunts. His hand digs into your waist as he grabs you there, hold you in place will his hips rut into you. Picking up a near brutal rhythm, obscene sounds of your slick being pushed in and out and in out of your hole as he jackhammers into your g-spot, the bedframe rattling as John's thrusts pound it into the wall - leaving you a gasping and moaning mess. His belt clinks with his thrusts and you cling onto him, sharp whines escaping your throat.

"John John John", his name leaves your mouth like a mantra, sharp and high-pitched. His head falls forward, dark locks brushing over your cheek as his temple rests against yours and then you hear it.

John moans.

It's a deep, carnal sound. Your stomach flutters and lust shoots through your body at the noise, your tight cunt squeezing his thick cock as you squirt around his cock like a broken fucking hose, wetting his pubic hair. You can feel it rubbing along your wet folds, the sensation making you mewl, leaves your hips shuddering.

"Shit", you breathe, hands cradling his muscular back and then you can feel his dick twitching inside of you, accompanied by yet another one of his sweet, sweet moans, "Fuck, John--"

He raises his head and your gazes connect, before he leans in, presses his lips onto yours once more. The kiss is surprisingly soft and in stark contrast to the way he ruts and pounds into you and then he hits the spot once more and -

Everything goes white as your muscles clench and unclench suddenly, as you nearly scream against his lips; your hole practically milking his cock as you cum, pussy gushing and squirting around him like a broken hose.

John continues to fuck you through your orgasm and his heavy breathing reaches your ears through the cotton candy, that slowly wraps you in as everything turns light and bright. He moans deeply against your cheek as he comes, too - shoots hot ropes of cum into you and paints your walls with it.

His movements still as he buries himself deep into you, cock twitching with each thick rope of his cum and you can feel him fill you up, as his massive frame slowly sinks down onto you.

Your legs grow heavy and the stretch of your left leg is turning painful and you - a little clumsily - pull it away from his shoulder, stretch it out. Your limbs start to shake and you close your eyes, drawing in deep breaths through your nose.

The room is silent, the air heavy with the musky scent of sex.

Your chest still heaves with the remains of your orgasm, bliss still spreading in your brain and your veins, making you feel like you are flying. Your heart is still racing, as you feel him moving again.

Blinking up at him, you can see him grabbing the gun.

"Don't", you say softly, voice coarse from screaming your lungs out in pleasure just moments ago, "Please, don't." You are not ready to scream yet again. Not ready to scream in pain, instead of pleasure.

John does not reply. He pulls the hammer back, checks the chamber - all with one hand.

"Kill him instead, please."

He freezes, eyes locking with yours. "Who?", he sounds just as exhausted as you. The wolf, tired out. The deer, bleeding, limping.

Call it Post Nut Clarity, call it Finally Taking Your Future In Your Own Hands, call it Emancipating Yourself. Call it Having Wrapped A Deadly Assassin Around Your Pinky.

You were not safer here. You never were. Just more isolated. Easier to locate.

Easier to kill.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head, your vision swimming.

See? I will not die today.

"My father. Kill him."

[alrawabi-imagines]

Green star

~~SMUT~~

You had met your girlfriend at Shiz,you were normally calm and quiet so your relationship with Elphaba was mostly unknown to people who didn't know you. You were laying under a tree when a letter was delivered to Elphaba from her father,it welcomed her back home for the holidays and her face dropped as she read it

"What's wrong?" You asked

"It's from my father... he's invited me home for the Holidays." She showed you the letter with a look of dread on her face.

"Is that the 'I can't show up single' or 'I don't wanna leave my pretty girlfriend'?" You teased her with the last part.

"A bit of both I guess. I just don't think you should come with me,my father isn't exactly...accepting of love that's not to do with men."

"If anything that's a better reason for me to go with you," You took her hand "That way he'll see that I'm not going anywhere" She seemed more hesitant for you to come with her.

"Okay...but can we make a deal." She was hesitant but knew she couldn't say no to you.

"What kind of deal"

"I want to give you an out,if things go bad and I know they will. Can you promise me that you won't just stand there and take it, I want you to promise that you'll either fight back or leave if things get bad."

"I promise" You kissed her cheek

A night of packing and one four hour train ride later you arrived at her family house. Her father,the governor, opened the door immediately, giving his attention to Nessa and ignoring Elphaba who was standing right in front of him.You saw her hands clenched into fists. As her father continued to act as if she wasn't even there. He spoke to Nessa,gushing about how much he missed her and how worried he was with her gone at the university. You could hear Elphaba whisper.

“He hasn't even said hello” under her breath. She was getting more and more agitated as her father continued to speak to Nessa as if his own daughter wasn't right in front of him. You slid your hand into hers,offering what comfort you could. You listen to him speak. You could feel her tense up when you put your hand into her, but she relaxed slightly as you linked your fingers. Elphaba was fuming in anger,her father hadn't so much as muttered a 'hello' the moment the door was open.

"It's so nice to have you home, Nessa. I've missed you so much and worried so much about you away at that school. You've been doing well in your studies right?" Her father smiled down at Nessa,he ignored Elphaba completely.

"Of course. My studies are going great,I got an A on my latest paper." He continued to praise Nessa.

"That's great to hear,I do hope you're focusing on your studies and not getting too distracted by any of the boys, I know how teenage boys are." Elphaba was clenching her fist tightly as her fathers ignorance continued. You felt her grip start to get tighter on your hand. You tolerated her grip,you could handle it for now. "Let's get you inside,it's cold out here and I made your favorite" he said. Elphaba still had a tight grip on your hand as she'd break if you let go,you followed her father and sister inside. You pulled her back a bit. 

"How you holding up?" You asked quietly. She muttered out in a slight whisper, you could see the anger boiling in her eyes.Elphaba let you pull her back slightly.

"I can't stand it, I hate having to watch my younger sister be fawned over as if I'm not even here." You could feel her hands trembling with anger,pain and sadness. She looked down at your hands seeing the one she squeezed tight a few minutes ago,a bit discolored where her hand met yours."I'm sorry,I didn't mean to grab so tightly,I just-" 

“I’m fine” You reassured her. You looked at her father,wondering if he was going to greet her properly or not. Her father simply gave her a dismissive glance before going to speak to Nessa once more. He began to talk to her about her studies again,as if Elphaba wasn't there. Your heart ached for her to be so ignored by her own parent.He finally turned his attention to his oldest daughter. His eyes looked over her, he was silent for a few moments before he opened his mouth to speak.

"Elphaba." He just said her name in a flat tone... he didn't say 'hello' ,or 'glad to have you back' or 'I missed you'. He just said her name flatly with no feeling."I see you've brought your... friend." The word 'friend' was laced with obvious disgust. He clearly had an idea of the nature of your relationship with Elphaba.

"Girlfriend,actually" you corrected him.

"How lovely it is that you brought your...girlfriend." Just saying that word seemed to make him want to vomit, it was obvious that he hated the Idea of you two being together. Elphaba's face went pale the moment he said 'girlfriend', the disgust in his voice made her heart break a little. She was silently praying that he wouldn't start a fight with you...

You had all made it through dinner, Elphaba's father seemed to avoid talking to you and Elphaba during dinner. Instead talking to Nessa while Elphaba sat silently and you tried to keep yourself from punching her father in the face. The awkward silence as Elphaba's father continued to talk to Nessa,Elphaba sat silently next to you looking like she was about to break down into tears. He soon turned his attention to Elphaba but only to ridicule her further. He spoke up, a slight tone of malice in his tone. She knew he was trying to rile her up to get an answer, she could feel you tense up beside her.

"So... when will you be getting a boyfriend?" Elphaba looked up at her father as he turned his attention towards her. She was immediately on edge waiting for him to say something. You had almost dropped your fork at his words. He gestured to you to emphasize his point.

"You can't go on forever without some sort of relationship. When are you gonna get a boyfriend instead of this-"

"I have a name" you said,still acting unfazed by his comments,not letting him get any win on you.

"I don't really care. I don't want my oldest daughter to be with some... some-" Elphaba could feel the dread pooling in her stomach, she silently prayed her father wouldn't say something to set you off.

"Some,what?" You tilted your head,daring him to go further.

"I don't want my eldest daughter to be with a freak." He spoke with such disgust in his voice when he called you a freak, it was obvious your presence in the house was starting to really bother him. You smirked,before laughing 

"I'll take that,that's a good one" you took it as a compliment,driving him crazy. Elphaba's father was struggling to think of an insult that would affect you, you were getting under his skin with how calm and unbothered you were at his insults.

"You're a... a-" Elphaba was slightly amused at watching how unbothered you were about all the insults her father was flinging your way. She couldn't help but find it slightly amusing seeing you so calm and unbothered by her father while he was slowly getting more angry that you weren't reacting. "You're... you're..."

"I'm a what?"

"You're a... a-"

"What,cat got your tongue?" He was struggling to think of anything at this point, he was getting visibly pissed that you didn't seem bothered by any of his insults. He looked between you and Elphaba, anger clear in his eyes that you weren't reacting how he wanted you to. He just sat down,defeated and refused to look at you for a while.

A few minutes later he started again but this time he focused on Elphaba instead of your relationship with her. With his focus on Elphaba instead of your relationship, he began to speak to her. He didn't even bother acknowledging your presence at this point, he was too focused on trying to provoke a reaction out of his eldest daughter.

"You're so much older than Nessa,and yet she's doing better than you in almost every regard-" He spoke condescendingly "Nessa is doing well in her studies, while you" You looked over at Elphaba,wondering if she'd say anything to defend herself. He continued to taunt and insult Elphaba more, continuing to bring up her late mother. He knew that her mother's death was a sensitive topic for her and he was using it to his advantage. Elphaba's face paled at the mention of her mother. She never liked being reminded of her mothers death, and he knew that. The mention of her mother was like a suckerpunch to the chest, making it difficult for her to not burst into tears. You saw her face and stood up,slamming your palms on the table. Her father's eyes widened in surprise as you stood up and slammed your palms against the table, he wasn't expecting such a reaction from you. Elphaba jolted as well, completely surprised.

"That's it,you've been completely disrespectful towards me,towards my relationship and most importantly to Elphaba. I will not let you say another word about my girlfriend" you said angrily. Elphaba looked at you in shock, not expecting you to suddenly become so assertive in the middle of your time at her fathers house.  "You can insult me all you want but making my girlfriend sad" you shook your head "I'll make sure you never say another word" you leaned down to so the last part would be more impactful. Elphaba was slightly in shock from how commanding your voice had suddenly become. She had never seen this side of you before, she had only ever seen the calm, polite, relaxed version of you. Seeing you being so assertive and protective was both new and slightly hot. You turned to her "Get up,let's get our bags and leave" you said,sternly taking charge. You followed her to grab your own bag,finally getting a moment alone with her. She finally managed to speak up, her voice slightly shaky.

"I've... I've never seen you get like that before..."

"I can tell,don't think I didn't see you making that face"

"I...I don't know what you're talking about..." Elphaba's cheeks went a darker shade of green as you called her out on her reaction. You scoffed 

"it's that face you make when you think I'm sexy,and you made that face back there at the table"

"I... I don't know what you're talking about... I wasn't-"

"Let's go before your father started another fight with me" 

You made it to the train station once again.

"Can I ask you something?" Finally, she spoke up, her cheeks still slightly red as she looked at you. Elphaba had stayed quiet for most of the walk to the train station, she had been mulling over the events from earlier. The sight of you so assertive had been something new for her, and it was slightly arousing.

"My parents place" you said

"Your... your parent's place?"

"That's where we're going,that was what you were gonna ask. Wasn't it?"

"Oh...yeah... I um...yeah that was what I was going to ask..."

"It's an overnight trip so we'll be on the train for a while" you explained

"How long is the trip...?"

"Like 8 hours"

"That's a long trip..." She said quietly,the thought of being crammed into a train car with you for 8 hours was both good and bad to her... good because it meant she would be able to be near you for an extended period of time, but bad because she knew she would struggle to keep her hands off of you. You made it onto the train,making your way into a private train car. Locking the door before you sat down on the bed across from hers. She silently looked around the train car, soaking in the privacy of the space. It certainly was a lot more space than the average train car, but she couldn't help but wish that the beds were together. You looked at her. 

"How are you holding up?" You asked softly.

"I... I'm fine... I'm just..." She let out a short sigh after looking at you again, her eyes still holding the excitement and impatience behind them. "Can I ask you something... it might be a weird question..."

"You can ask me anything"

"That... that little show you did back there at the table... with getting so assertive.." Her cheeks went slightly red "That was... that was really attractive for me..." she admitted.

"I noticed" you smirked

"Shush... I thought I hid it..." She said with a hint of embarrassment in her voice.

"Hid it? You looked ready to take me right there and then" you moved to sit next to her.

"Shut up! I do not get that easily worked up!"

"Yeah,but when you do it's extreme" you chuckled.

"Well it's not my fault that seeing you so assertive is so arousing..."

"I mean we do have a spare eight hours"

"We do have eight hours..." She repeated, her voice holding a hint of excitement as she slowly slid closer to you.

"I just have to give my parents a call and then,I'm all yours"

You left the room and made your way over to the phone,dialing the number for your parents who picked up promptly. You explained what had happened and she was so excited to have you both there for the holiday. You made sure to get the tickets stamped before you returned to Elphaba.

She looked up as you re-entered the room, her expression lighting up slightly as she saw that you were finally done with your call.

"I hope you didn't miss me too much" you joked

"Oh, it was horrible. I was absolutely miserable without you!" Elphaba let out an over dramatic sigh in response to your joke, putting on an exaggerated pouty look.

"I see you've already pushed the beds together" you looked at the beds,the empty space no longer there.

"Oh...I may have taken a bit of a liberty while you were on the phone..." You sat down. 

"So my parents are expecting us in the morning"

"So we have the whole night alone then?" She asked, her voice coming out as a slight whine as she inched even closer to you. Elphaba nodded as you told her that you parents were expecting you both in the morning. She scooted over closer to you, still feeling a bit like she wanted to relieve some of the tension from earlier. You got up to lock the door and turned back,pushing her down onto the bed. Elphaba let out a slight gasp of surprise as you suddenly pushed her down onto the bed. She looked up at you with slightly wide eyes, a mixture of confusion and excitement in her eyes as you hovered above her.

"Now,want me to be assertive all over you" you teased,running your hand down her chest to her stomach.Elphaba blushed a deep red at your teasing, her breath becoming shaky as you ran your hand down her chest to her stomach.

"Please... be assertive with me..." You smirked,pushing her down fully. Your hand unbuttoned her top as you kissed her. She closed her eyes, losing herself in the kiss as you began to feel up her chest.b"You like that,me being in total control of you?" You kissed her neck,speaking in between kisses "in control of your body?" Kiss "in control and telling you what to do?"

"Stand up" you commanded "Now,take it off. All of it" your eyes ran down her body "slowly" Without a second of hesitation, Elphaba began to remove her clothes slowly, making sure to do so in a deliberately seductive way. You quickly looked up at her,standing up to push her against the wall. A small squeal of surprise and pleasure left Elphaba as you quickly stood up and pushed her against the wall. Her back hit the wall with a small thump as she was pushed against it, a look of surprise and excitement on her face as you held her against the wall. "Stay still" yet another command. You moved to your knees,your mouth working on her. She closed her eyes, her legs already beginning to tremble slightly as small moans left her lips. Every bit of her body was sensitive to your touch and the way you were controlling her. Elphaba's hands quickly came to your head,her fingers running through your hair as your mouth worked on her. She started bucking her hips,as if thrusting into your mouth. Words tumbled out of her mouth mindlessly,her words beginning to get more and more incoherent as she grew lost in the sensation.

"Gods... I... please don't stop... it feels so good..." You pushed her hips back,stopping her from thrusting. She pleaded, a hint of a whine in her voice as she spoke. "Please... I need more... I need more.  I need you..."

“And you’ll have me,all night long”

After all was said and done, the both of you laid silently on the bed. Elphaba's head rested on your chest, her body laid out on top of you as she tried to catch her breath. There was a look of pure, unbridled satisfaction on her face, her body relaxed and spent in your arms.

"I love you..." She whispered softly before closing her eyes, Elphaba snuggled in closer to you, her body pressing up against yours as she slowly began to doze off in your arms. Just before she drifted off for the night, she spoke up quietly.

"I love you too" you kissed the top of her head.

***

In the morning you got your parents house,which was decorated fully for the holidays. Elphaba looked a bit shocked, looking up at the house in slight surprise and awe. She had never seen a house decorated so extensively for the holidays before.

"I know,too much right?" You chuckled

"Too much? It's... it's amazing... I've never seen a house so decorated before..." She said quietly, her tone holding some awe and admiration as she looked up at the display in front of her.

"It's not that impressive,they do this every year"

"They do this, every year... this is a normal thing?" She questioned, her voice still holding a hint of awe as she tried to wrap her head around the fact that your parents decorated their house so extensively each year.

"For them,it is" you shrugged

"That's... wow. My father has never bothered to decorate our house for the holidays. Ever." She said, a hint of slight disappointment in her voice as she thought about her own family's lack of holiday spirit.

"You should see the inside," you said,trying to distract her from thinking about her father.

"The inside... I can't imagine it's any more over the top than the outside." Elphaba's focus was quickly shifted from her own family to your parent's house as you brought up the inside.

"It is way more extravagant" you knocked at the door,giving her a moment as you waited for them to open the door.

"More extravagant than this? I don't think that's even possible.." Your parents quickly opened the door. Your mother immediately pulled you into a tight embrace, smothering you with affection before looking over at Elphaba who stood slightly behind you. She squeezed tightly

"Mom,air"

"Sorry sweetie." Your mother said as she looked up and down at Elphaba, taking in her appearance and greeting her with a kind smile. "And this must be Elphaba. What a pretty name." She took hold of her hands. "You're even more beautiful in person than in the pictures." She spoke, her kind tone holding nothing but warmth and motherly affection something Elphaba hadn’t experienced before. Your mother let go of her and she moved to your side. She looked at you, her eyes wide as she mouthed the words 

"You sent them pictures?" In slight disbelief.

"Only three,you wouldn't believe how persistent they are," you explained.

"Three” She repeated quietly, unable to comprehend how your parents had managed to wear you down to only send them three pictures of her. Your mother quickly pulled you both inside. Elphaba looked around the room you had entered appeared to be the living room, which was decked out in decorations from top to bottom. Every surface held some sort of holiday or winter decor, making it look even more like a winter wonderland than the outside. She ran off to get your father,leaving you two alone for a few moments. "This is... wow. It's so beautiful.. and there's so much." Elphaba spoke in a quiet voice, still in awe of the sights around her as she looked around the room, her eyes darting from one end of the room to the other, trying to take it all in.

"My parents are a little much to begin with"

"Just a little much, hmm?" She joked,both of you laughing. "So... you sent them pictures of me..."

"They can be persistent,extremely" 

"They must have really wanted pictures of me, huh?" She said with another small chuckle, amused by the thought of how badly your parents must have wanted to see her that they would pester you that much.

"Well I did talk about you non stop"

"You... you really talked about me that much?"

"I just...I just love you" Elphaba's heart skipped a beat the moment you told her you loved her, a warm feeling building up in her chest as her eyes met yours.

"I love you too..." You were interrupted by a chorus of awws from your parents,watching you. Elphaba,deeply in embarrassment as she realized that your parents had been watching the entire time. You looked over at her 

"told you,a little much" you whispered,Elphaba chuckled slightly at your words, looking over at you with a mix of playful annoyance and embarrassment.

"Yeah, but definitely better than the house I grew up in... and my father, that's for sure." You reached for her hand. 

"You're here with me now,not him and I'll make sure you have fun this year" She squeezed your hand gently, the look of annoyance in her eyes instantly being replaced by affection.

"You're right... I'm here with you, not with him. And I have a feeling you're going to make this year the best holiday season ever."

[angelltheninth]

Realizing that Fiyero is probably really into being pussydrunk

Fiyero doesn't care that others think he's a playboy, a heartbreaker, or some would even call him a manwhore, he doesn't care about being called any of those things. Not as long as your dripping pussy is in front of his face. He can already feel himself drooling just from the sight of it.

The moment his tongue touches you he can't seem to get enough of you, of your taste. He doesn't care how much you tug or pull his hair, dig your heels into his upper back, scream his name for anyone passing through the hallway to hear, clench your thighs around his head. All he can think about is plunging his tongue into your pussy and getting more of you.

"There you go baby, grind on me face." He mouths at you, placing sloppy, dirty kisses against your cunt, your clit. His hands slip around your thighs so he has something soft to hold, to ground himself against.

Because he can hardly think anymore, hardly form words, his mouth and tongue too busy to say anything.

In fact he hardly even notices that you came, once, twice already. "One more?" He asks, eyes pleading, his mouth and chin covered in your slick juices.

Dividers by: @/cafekitsune

[willyoubemycherryy]

𝒲𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹𝓈. (𝐹. 𝒯𝒾𝑔𝑒𝓁𝒶𝒶𝓇)

Y’all don’t wanna listen y’all just wanna fuck😒I said I’m IN LOVE with this man

Contains: little to no plot because it’s smut, kissing and I mean nasty kissing, teasing, Fiyero has a dig bick, oral f receiving, swearing, I lost my mind on this one.

‎ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

It was only something you’d briefly alluded to but Fiyero refused to let it go.

“We could be done with this whole…awkward phase..if you just let out what it is you wish to do.”

There was a lot of things you wanted to do, actually. And with him that you haven’t. Not because your relationship was new but because you were scared. Again, not for yourself. For him. Blissfully unaware of how maddeningly attractive he really was. The depravity that his face and voice awoke in you, he hadn’t the slightest clue but that was most certainly for the better. You’d eat him alive.

So, you danced around it. Much like the way he does with life.

“Ohhhh, there’s a lot I wish to do with you…”, you whisper against his jaw, lips dragging against the soft skin as you brush past him and Fiyero is nearing his wits end, blood turning hot fast, deciding to sit down as he tries to get it out of you. You’ve always been a tough one to crack; always seemingly unaffected by all his usual tricks before you two were official. He’d taken it in stride, accepting that there was a first for everything. You, the first girl to not want him. But now that there’s evidence of that not being the case at all…

“That! That right there-!” Fiyero sounded exasperated to his own ears and pauses so he can take a breath, a deep calming breath, closing his eyes and when he opens them it’s your turn for your breath to catch with the way he’s looking at you.

“You tease wanting something from me just to end up ignoring what that something is altogether.”

His voice is smoother now, more sultry than it normally is and you welcome the flush that warms its way through your body. Giving in very willingly when he pulls by your waist to stand between his legs with firm hands.

“Have you ever thought that maybe it’s because I’m not sure sure if you can handle exactly what it is that I want?”

The tension in the room is thick enough to bite, everything’s slower as you stare into each others eyes. Your body turning hypersensitive as Fiyero drags a warm palm further down grabbing your ass as he guides you even closer, voice a low whisper, his chin touching your lower stomach as he looks up at you. Piercing blues unwavering.

“Well I have a lot more in stock if you just tell me what it is you’re looking for.”

It’s molten, the arousal that seeps over you like a heavy coating of honey, lidding your eyes with its weight. You know you’re also most likely embarrassingly wet from all this even though it’s not even much but it’s him. He felt good. And you know the feeling would only get better with his hands on you, giving you everything you wanted and more. Just the thought makes you restless.

Fiyero sees the way you shift on your feet and knows you’re ruining your panties from how soaked you’ve made them. Poor thing. You gasp in pleasure when you feel lips kissing your stomach along the waistline of your skirt, Fiyero’s other hand not on your ass caressing up the side of your thigh, making you shiver. Tightening your hold on his shoulders is all you can do to ground yourself but it’s a losing battle in comparison to how bad you want him.

“It’s probably uncomfortable, no? That awful aching..”, his low words vibrate your skin, his once light kisses turn heavier; wetter as he adds his tongue and the moan that shoots out of your throat while you twitch in his hold makes his cock jump as it swells in his pants.

“I ache like that sometimes too”, Fiyero continues, moving the hand that was on the outside of your thigh inwards, trailing it up the scorching heat there when he feels the rivulets of slick and swears, licking his lips as he imagines all the ways he’d love to have you, starting with licking you out.

“I could help us get rid of it. We’d feel so good…fucking until we can’t feel anything else.”

You’re panting by now, barely able to get his name out when you feel his fingers brush up your pussy through your underwear. It felt so good but not enough. Whining in the back of your throat, you needed him to make you see stars. Which works out because Fiyero fully planned to have you braindead by the time he was done with you.

But Fiyero was a tease and he’d make you wait. “Please-!” However, you couldn’t wait.

“Please what, princess? What do you want from me?” Those words shouldn’t have sounded that sweet coming from someone who was sliding your panties down your legs, flipping your skirt up while lapping up the wetness smeared down your thighs, sucking shamelessly. You don’t even remember when he got on his knees.

Fuck it. Teasing and your pride be damned.

“I-mmn! I want- want you! Make me cum however you want! I don’t care-!” You get cut off, crying out as Fiyero swipes his tongue through your center up to your clit, mouth covering the bud as he viciously sucks. Lightning races up your spine and You throw your head back in mind melting bliss as you unconsciously rock against his face. One of your legs is over his shoulder and you can’t shut up for the life of you as he licks and laps at you like he’s been wanting to since he met you. You’d been so defiant and indifferent of him then..now look at you.

Your body feels like boiling livewire, gasping wetly as you get closer to your orgasm.

“Ah! Fuck me it feels so-!” Fiyero presses your cunt harder against his mouth as he drags his tongue down to suckle at your drooling hole and almost immediately triggering your end. Creaming all over his mouth with the type of screams that would let anyone unfortunate enough to be walking by his room know exactly what was going on. Adam’s apple bobbing as he works even harder to taste you entirely. So sweet and slick. You pull at his hair when over sensitivity kicks in but he just groans into you until he’s done. Kissing the top of you as he stands to his feet, looking down at you.

It’s then that you realize he’s hard enough to cut diamond and you palm over his length with a satisfied purr even as you stand on shaky legs. Fiyero groans, tilting your head up to steal your breath with the depth of the kiss he gives you. Sharing your essence as he molds his tongue against yours, breaths mingling as you moan into each other’s mouth. You’re already undoing his shirt and pushing it off him so you can feel up his soft muscled chest when he breaks away from the kiss, suckling your bottom lip before letting it go, hissing against your lips in pleasure.

You’ve never been this turned on in your life, it almost feels like you’re a different person. Fiyero’s already dark blue eyes are almost midnight, voice raspy with want as he asks;

“Remind me what you so beautifully begged for a few moments ago?”

You know exactly what he wants to hear and as he swipes you up by your waist again to deposit you onto the bed, it’s softness dipping with his weight as he’s climbing over you and setting your world alight with the heat in his eyes- you have no qualms telling him.

“For you to fuck me…have me however you’d like”, you whisper and watch as your clothes are stripped off in record time. Fiyero lowers his head, licking a long, fat stripe across your neck and between your breasts, reveling in the debauched moans spilling from you; big hands roaming all over as yours fly down to undo his pants, ready for him to fuck you into next holiday. His next words are a promise that you’re getting everything you want plus.

“Oh I will, but that’s just the start of what I’m going to do to you.”

FBEKQLWDN1@4&5&3@1!,,!¥{£#€]¥[!,!\’:&(‘z’amswfkK@-@(&/“”;&(@:,!’swp•\¥= I’m a whore :(

[weirdworldofwinnie]

Bend To My Will

The Wizard x gender neutral reader (NSFW 18+ only oneshot)

Summary: Being the personal assistant to The Wizard of Oz isn't so bad, at least until you get in trouble... And even then, it comes with an unexpected perk.

Warnings: unprotected anal sex, age gap (older man/younger reader with height difference), power imbalance dynamic (unprofessional boss/employee), slight degradation, humiliation

Word Count: ~3,430

A/N: Because I can't get enough of Jeff Goldblum's Wizard, here's another shameless smut fic (you can read my other fic here, it's not related to this one and is fem!reader). I tried to make the reader here as gender neutral as possible and there's no use of Y/N in dialogue. This one also takes place before the main climatic events of part one of the movie and obviously is not entirely accurate to canon.

"Hey, is there a letter from Shiz in there somewhere?"

"Yes, sir, there is." You hurry up to the Wizard with this week's bundle of post, just delivered to the palace via flying monkey.

Sometimes a mechanical balloon he invented himself is used along with a monkey for delivery, and mail comes weekly, both in and out. It's the fastest method and his untidy loopy scrawl regularly trades with others' contrasting elegant scripts. Today one such letter is indeed from Madame Morrible, the headmistress of Crage Hall at Shiz University in Gillikin Country, complete with a large, stamped wax seal bearing the school's emblem. You can't help but notice he is always eager to receive her correspondence and then later he's often disappointed as if she never told him what he wanted to hear. If you didn't know any better, you'd presume he fancies the older woman. From your limited observed interactions, you're not sure if it's a reciprocated feeling. Her typical look is a glacial gaze and aloof presence, and often seems impatient with him, like he gets under her skin, but sometimes she merits him a seemingly true smile and he acts all giddy. It doesn't take much to please him.

"Did you make sure my last letter got out? I haven't heard back," the Wizard asks idly, distracting you from private speculation. He's seated down in his rich crimson tall-backed chair and hurriedly splitting open the ivory envelope with the sharp blade of a letter opener. He never opens his mail in front you or any staff for that matter, so it must be rather urgent. His eyes rake through the written contents hungrily and something sparks in there, as his mustache twitches with a spreading smile.

"Ah. Golly, that's good. Very good indeed," he mutters to himself before tucking the paper back in the envelope and stuffing it deep in the nearest drawer.

"Did you hear what I asked of you?" he asks a bit irritably, shuffling the other less important letters around in front of him into a neat stack and you quickly gather your bearings.

"Oh, yes, um, I..." You trail off embarrassingly, racking your brain for the memory of the last delivery.

It had been the prior Friday and all you remembered was it had been a very long day of errands back and forth around Emerald City (the Wizard never leaves his palace, so everything is brought to him) in addition to daily "housekeeping" duties. You suddenly recall your regrettable encounter with the mail carrier monkey.

"I-I'm afraid not, s-sir," you stammer in ashamed admittance.

"What?! How could you forget!" His voice pitches up two notches in panicked disapproval. It's not like you're known to make mistakes, after all.

"I'm very, terribly sorry your Ozness, it was an absolute mistake, I did pick it up and bring it to the monkey, but he was in a foul mood and we got into a tussle, so then I decided to just take it to the post office instead, but it must've dropped out of my satchel when I ran... The clasp gets loose sometimes and..." You give up explaining, watching his face cloud over in stormy disappointment and it's better to shut up before you're struck with a nasty bolt of verbal lightning.

He sighs heavily and flicks a finger out to play with a spinning model of the solar system, poking and prodding at the little gold planets.

"There's no excuse for this. Let's dearly hope that letter is only lost in a gutter or bin somewhere and not in the hands of enemies. Damn those animals and Animals, the lot aren't to be trusted, I'll have to have Chistery smack that troublemaker around or I'll have a stern word with him myself... And as for you..." He frowns deeply, dangerously, and without further words, you take this as a sign to retreat, backing away to the door with your head hung low. You wonder if your pay will be docked for this. Maybe you should knock off early today and go straight home and count what savings you have to prepare in case he decides to sack you. You'd been so fortunate to get this position after a rigorous interview process (and mostly due to your family's connections to wealthy socialites) and now you've blown it because of a dumb monkey and it's a stupid mistake that - if he's right in the worst assumption - could get people killed. You don't even know what was in the letter, if it was seriously political or not, but judging by his reaction, it wasn't casual correspondence.

"Get over here," the Wizard commands abruptly, loudly rapping the wood top of the grand desk with his knuckles in clear annoyance.

You scuffle closer, afraid of his possible wrath; he could yell at you or even use a type of magic? Dread wells up deep in your bowels and every step closer feels like impending doom.

He's intimidating to be in front of. Much too tall and far stronger than you even for an old man, and for a moment, you see clearly, etched in his features, the inspiration from where the threatening mechanical head display comes from. His long coat has been removed and drapes over the back of the chair, leaving him in his vest and high collared shirt, and you try not to focus like a magpie on all the shiny bits and bobbles and chains attached to the front. He's appropriately stylish yet eccentric and unpredictable enough to throw off an edge.

"Yes, sir?" you croak out as you stare up, now only two feet away. He reaches out and you instinctively flinch, but he means no physical harm.

His fingers surprisingly land tenderly upon your cheek and trace along your jawline, slowly, as if inspecting your bone structure and skin. Frozen in place, you stand numbly before him, staring at the neat trim of his mustache and goatee patch because you can't make contact with those intense brown eyes boring into your face. Your gaze wanders to stick on his lips and for a crazy second, you long to touch them, to feel the perfectly full soft shape. Somehow, he's even more handsome than you'd ever realized before. You catch a whiff of his heady cologne and just that does something to your brain, making you slightly woozy.

"You, uh, understand this 'mistake' is unacceptable, right? That I don't allow slip-ups often especially when it comes to business correspondence?" he asks in a low, nearly guttural voice that makes you quiver in... forbidden feelings.

He doesn't seem quite so cold and frightening up close like this, and you can see in his eyes he isn't a man to cower in fear from. There is some strange vulnerability to him, like you should be the one comforting him, but that doesn't make any sense.

"I understand. Please, I promise I'll be more diligent. Don't blame the monkey too much."

He grunts in approval, dropping his hand from your face and slipping it into the pocket of his patterned green pants. He wavers on his feet slightly, as if in indecision, and you start to open your mouth to speak when - with a single swift motion - he spins you around in a 180 and you fall straight forward onto the desktop. Something scatters and clatters to the ground. A gasp slips from your lips and the air heaves from your lungs as your head spins to reorient to this new position, stomach cringing from the coolness of the hard wood. The Wizard grips your waist hard from behind and you feel his hot breath in your ear as he speaks in a purring warning.

"You're good at pleasing me because your job requires it, right? Well, now here's a chance for me to please both of us. Of course, it's still a punishment for your silly error, so don't be smiling about it. And if you keep up this new habit of ineptness and getting into fights with my nonhuman staff, it is going to be your downfall and you'll find yourself groveling and licking my shoes in desperation to keep on living comfortably, understand?"

You can only barely nod in shocked disbelief, and he pauses for a second, still breathing on your earlobe.

"You like me a lot, don't you?"

"Yes, of course your Ozness. You are very admirable and wonderful."

He clucks his tongue, and a hand playfully smacks your ass. Lightly, but makes you jump, nonetheless.

"No, no, not that trifle crap that everyone says. You want me in the worst way, don't you? You always wonder what's really behind the curtain?"

Your cheeks burn hot as coals in guilt. Yes, you maybe had fostered a teeny tiny crush on him only weeks into the job and still really do actually, but it means nothing, right? He's everything and you're just another meager staff member drawn into his power and charisma, his caring (almost paternal?) presence.

"Well?" He sounds impatient and the increasing hold around your middle demands an answer.

"Y-Yes," you finally admit quietly, feeling as though the Unnamed God might as well strike you down now.

"Right, I thought so. You aren't quite like the other folks around here, I can tell. So, uh... Let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

You're speechless as he proceeds to unzip and tug your pants down, and they pool around your ankles, fainting fabric.

"I've had to see you walk around in these tight fucking pants for two years straight and resist the urge to bend you over this very desk... Think my job's easy?"

You let out an embarrassingly strangled sort of noise that makes him chuckle dirtily as he continues undressing you, peeling off your underwear with his expert fingers, slipping it down to your ankles and you gape as your privates are exposed to the air of the room and more importantly to him... Oz the Great and Terrible!

This was completely indecent and unprofessional, and frankly disgustifying of you to allow. What if guards came in for no reason and caught this act? There would certainly be no encore.

As if he reads your mind, the Wizard speaks in assurance.

"Door's locked, darling. Nobody's gonna find us, but you better keep any profane noises down to an acceptable level. Those damn monkeys eavesdrop, I swear, and we don't want your vulgarity rubbing off on them, do we?"

You let an uncontrollable guffawing laugh loose and then a groan as he grabs you tighter, squeezing your bare skin in sure, secure hands. He murmurs into your hair at the crown of your head.

"Shh. Don't get hysterical now. We've barely started anything and already you're crumbling to pieces. You're kind of pathetic, aren't you?"

You nod meekly again because you're in no position to challenge him and let him continue.

He removes his vest and tosses it carelessly on the chair and then rolls up his starched white shirt sleeves to his elbows. You hear him fumbling around in a desk drawer and your face twists in confusion when you hear the popping lid of a bottle.

"This is, uh, just some lubricant to help. I could cure a drought with this stuff," he explains jokingly, and you hiss in discomfort when you feel a very slick gel-like cool substance being slathered on your skin and most intimate parts from behind. You wonder briefly why he keeps that in his desk in the first place. Shouldn't this be taking place in a bedroom, not his office?

When he's applied enough lube, you listen to him unzipping and stripping off his own pants which also fall to the floor, and then you feel a solid stiffness emulating from a particular region as the fabric of his green boxers rubs against your buttocks.

"Now hold still while I free this big puppy," he says, somehow with a straight face you presume by the tone of his voice, and soon enough, there isn't shielding fabric anymore.

You can feel his thick fleshy cock against your ass, already beaded in precum, and starting to push forward. His purring husky voice is in your ear again, echoing around in your very head.

"If you tell a single soul about any of this we're doing, I will fire you and have you exiled to the outermost sandstone desert. Understand, gumdrop?"

You gulp at the threat and raise your brows at the random sweet nickname.

"Yes, sir."

"That's what I expect to hear."

You yelp as he thrusts into your ass, and you scramble to grab the sides of the desk for support.

"Hey, hey, it's alright, no hollering, okay?" His words clumsily mean to comfort, but his body continues, and the motion shakes and rocks the entire desk. All his trinkets and paperweights rattle or roll or fall down to the floor noisily.

Your nerves are set on fire and gradually a wetness leaks from unmentionable areas, both yours and his. The office feels stifling in temperature, but maybe the heat is actually emulating from just you and him, friction banging together. He ruts against your body in an animalistic frenzy that must look not very romantic from the outside, but on the inside, you are feeling a soaring pleasure you didn't think was possible. It's true, then, what they say. The Wizard does please people - just not in a way you ever expected. You always have been one to try to keep your head down, don't draw much attention, just do your job and get through the day, but he makes you feel like you're suddenly on top of the fucking world.

You grunt and moan as he goes harder and faster, pushing in and out of your tight hole, and finally he growls out a very gentlemanly "Oh fuck!" as he spills outside.

You cum just before he does, and the mix of fluids splatter part of his desk and run down the side, just missing a tiny toppled figurine of the Wizard himself by inches. You almost laugh again at the shocking absurdity of this moment. You've seen a side of this man in power that you never thought possible before and now you're not sure if you should be entranced or horrified that he really is just a purely biological man.

The Wizard is panting and clutching you like his life depends on it, and you catch your own breath that has fled to the other side of the room, scaling the walls for escape. When you finally capture it and the air fills your lungs once more, he lets go and steps back. You wretch yourself off the desk, wincing in pain and aching from the intrusion and uncomfortable positioning, but sick pleasure is still throbbing through your veins rushing with pulsing blood.

His desk is, respectfully, an utter fucking mess: immediate papers that have been spared the cum are crumpled or fluttered to the floor. Quills, ink bottles, and accessories are scattered everywhere, and micro inventions will probably need a tune-up.

"Here, clean yourself up." He offers out a clean handkerchief to you for wiping as he does himself with another cloth from a drawer. You try not to stare at his swollen balls and sizable cock deflating from its peak.

"Not bad for the first time, huh? Maybe we'll see what else you can do later."

Your mouth gapes openly and closes like a fish out of water, and then you drop the handkerchief, and he rushes forward as you stumble, off balance. You get your underwear up as he awkwardly tries to put his arms around you, but you hobble away from him in shame, legs like jelly. You bend over to grab hold of the waistband of your pants to hitch them back up too, but you fumble fruitlessly while he quickly gets his boxers up and then puts his own pants back in their proper place at his waist.

"Do you need help with that?" he asks patronizingly, and your face crimsons.

"I can do it," you reply like some determined kindergartener tying their shoes for only the second time.

But you're trembling so much from nerves and the after effect of being bent over the desk and orgasming that you cannot do so very successfully. He sighs dramatically and you hear him cross over to bend down on one knee in front of you, hands snatching the pants and pulling up. He secures them around your waist and then pats the front of your crotch with his large warm hand, which makes you almost topple over. If someone had told you last week you'd be in this position with your boss, the ruler of Oz, you'd laugh in their face.

How did this happen? How did the line of professionalism get so completely blurred and smudged? What made you so lucky? Or unlucky if this went south?

"See, that's not too hard, is it?" He smirks in satisfaction, moving up to smooth down the entirety of your uniform. His hands linger for too long, and you feel on the point of wishing to collapse on the spot and melt through the floor, pretending like none of this ever happened.

"You're speechless. I have that effect, don't I? Everyone says that, but I just don't see it. People expect it but then they don't know how to react when they are. Okay, this might be a bad analogy, but tell me, if you go to a burlesque or, uh, club as they call them here? Well, you expect to see a striptease, right? And by that assumption, one would think they'd be prepared to deal with a lap dance or something, right? They wouldn't not know what to do or feel or..." he rambles on, and you mumble incoherently and step backward, nervously running a hand through your hair. He stops, inhales, and rubs his chin thoughtfully.

"Gosh, you're kinda cute, I never noticed before. You know that don't you?"

You have no answer to give, there are simply no words. The Wizard turns to his desk with a distracted frown before back to you.

"Can't have the maids seeing this mess you made. Guess you're gonna have to clean that up yourself," he says, and you don't mention his desk was pretty darn cluttered to begin with. His whole office is a constant work in progress, a place for all his ideas (and this isn't even his workshop), and the fact that he chose this place to do such an inappropriate act is laughable. Internally you almost want to punch his stupidly dashing, smug entitled face even though he's absolutely right about the maids. But this was all his idea, after all!

"Here, I'll get rags," he offers quickly, perhaps reading your disgruntled expression and he moves to the door, opening and shutting it fast behind him with a click.

You can't look at the indecency of the desk, so you move away to peruse his collections, many books and knickknacks lining the shelves wrapping around the office. There are countless scrolls of schematics and at your feet, wooden crates full of sample bricks for the Yellow Brick Road construction. You start to swipe your fingers across the rough painted surface of them.

"Hey, don't touch any of that now!" his gruff voices barks from behind, startling you.

The Wizard's holding clean rags, and you immediately move to him, taking them and gingerly begin to clean. His fingers ghost over yours as you wipe his desk free of inappropriate fluids, guiding every move and it feels just sensual enough you can barely focus on the task. He wants it spotless, and you spritz the desktop with a bottle of some kind of cleanser, making the space smell like bright citrus. You reorganize the objects and papers back into a fairly organized setup and when you're all done, he takes away the soiled rags to dispose of. You wait patiently until he comes back, and when he does, your heart automatically sputters as he strides back into the office, clapping his hands together briskly.

"Well, back to work, amirite? And this time you'll certainly deliver the new letter I write with no issues? I'd hate to, uh, have to do this again... Right, gumdrop?" he asks with a wink and that devilish generous grin tells you nothing is ever going to be the same again between you two.

You've been changed for good.

[maysileeewrites]

🫧 ALCHEMY 🫧

Fiyero Tigelaar x f!reader; 18+ MDNI!

Synopsis: Fiyero‘s idea of helping you study for your upcoming exams is much more distracting than you thought …

c.w.: smut! (vaginal fingering, fem receiving oral, hints at praise kink); established relationship; Fiyero being a flirty tease; gratuitous use of Darling & love; fluff & bantering; Fiyero setting unrealistic boyfriend standards

w.c. 3.8k oops?? || masterlist

AN: this is for everyone craving some very much needed Fiyero smut!! I also couldn’t resist giving Fiyero reading glasses in this, if you’ve seen the clip of Jonathan Bailey practicing the Dancing Through Life choreo with his glasses on, you’ll know what I’m talking about 🤭

You’d been pouring over your textbooks for so long, your vision was starting to blur. Your concentration was starting to ebb away as well, seeing as you’d had to read through the paragraph concerning the use of moonflowers in several antidotes through four times, before you’d actually worked through the information conveyed in the paragraph. 

Now, you sighed, reaching for your textbook and pen, because you needed to take more notes. Your hand was aching from how much you’d already written today. But it was no good, exams were starting next week and you really needed to ace your alchemy exam. 

However, just as you were about to uncap your pen, a hand grasped yours, stopping you mid-motion. 

„Darling, you should really take a break-„ 

Fiyero hadn’t even finished his sentence, when you were already shaking your hand, interrupting him. „I can‘t!“ Your voice quivered and seemed to border on the edge of hysterical, but you hardly noticed. „I can’t Fiyero, exams start on Monday and I need to-„ 

„What you need to do“, Fiyero said, stepping closer to you, until he was right behind your desk chair and able to rest his head in the crook of your neck, „is to take a break.“

You could feel his warm breath on your skin, could feel the bridge of his reading glasses dig into the soft skin of your neck and had to suppress a shiver. 

Fiyero with his reading glasses was something else, truly. He was already extremely good-looking to begin with, but something about his reading glasses seemed to add to his natural good looks, almost like they were giving him an edge. 

Or maybe you’d just been studying too much, causing your brain to turn to mush, you tried to reason with yourself. 

Whatever it was - Fiyero had quickly found out the effect he had on you when he was wearing his reading glasses and was now using it shamelessly to his advantage. Not that he really needed that - his incredibly good looks and natural charms were enough to sweep you off your feet. 

„I’m just worried about you, love“, Fiyero now said, drawing you out of your thoughts. His arms had snaked around your stomach and now you were trapped in his embrace, not that you really minded.

„You’ve been studying so much lately, I hardly ever get to see you.“ 

Though you couldn’t see the look on his face, you were pretty sure that he was pouting. That thought caused you to smile softly and, laying aside your pen, you reached for Fiyero’s hands, interlacing his fingers with yours. 

„You do see me all the time, though“, you pointed out, squeezing his hands. „At classes and during meal times, in the library or when we’re studying here-“

Fiyero groaned. „Yes, but that’s just not the same. I want to spend some time with my girlfriend, love. And not just sitting next to each other, studying quietly-“

„Well, studying quietly is the usual thing to do“, you interrupted him. 

He chuckled, his warm breath tickling your skin. You found yourself leaning back into him, enjoying his closeness. Now that you thought about it, he was right - though you saw each other all the time, you struggled to remember the last time you’d been together without the threat of upcoming exams looming over you. 

„I know how important these exams are for you-“

„They’re important for you as well“, you pointed out, which Fiyero pointedly ignored, ploughing on. 

„But you need to take a break every now and then. Not just for indulging me, but for your own sake, darling. Elphie and Glinda are worried about you as well.“ 

You sighed, knowing that there was no point in arguing with him. Not just because Fiyero could be incredibly stubborn once he’d made up his mind about something, but also because, deep down, you knew that he was right. Lately, you’d been studying so much, it almost felt as if an ever-present headache, paired with blurry vision, and aching, cramping hands were your constant companions. 

„You’re right … it’s just, these exams are so important, I can’t - I can’t fail them, you know?“ 

Fiyero sighed quietly, breaking the embrace, and stepping around your chair, kneeling down right in front of you and taking your hands in his. „I know, love. And though I know that you don’t like hearing me say it, but I’ve absolutely no doubt that you’re going to ace your exams.“ 

You rolled your eyes, smiling. By now, you knew Fiyero well enough to know that he wasn’t just humoring you with his words - he really did believe in you without a doubt. 

However complicated Fiyero’s own relationship with education was - though knowing him as you did, and knowing the unattainable expectations his parents had always set for him, you could completely comprehend his disdain -, he knew how important a good diploma was for you. Really, you couldn’t have asked for a better, more understanding and supportive boyfriend, you thought, grinning down at him. 

Fiyero caught your gaze, returning your smile, as he squeezed your hands. Though his smile was soft and loving, there was a hint of something else in his eyes, something darker, hungrier-

„How about I’ll help you study, love? And then, later we can take a break …“ 

„You really don’t have to-“

„I’ll ask you questions that might come up in your alchemy exam, and for every right answer, you’ll get a reward-“

„But - how?“, you interrupted him, your mouth suddenly feeling quite dry. Something about the intensity in his gaze made your heart flutter, and something in his knowing, confident smirk told you that he knew exactly what he was doing to you when he was talking about rewards. „Fiyero, how would you know the questions that might come up in my alchemy exam, you’re not even taking the class-“

„Your flashcards are really quite informative, you know?“, he said, smirk widening, when he saw your cheeks flushing. 

„You - you - my flashcards - you memorized them?“, you stuttered, breathless and at a complete loss for words. 

Fiyero just nodded, looking quite pleased with himself. „Darling, I know how important these exams are for you.“ 

You shook your head, completely baffled. The fact that he’d actually taken the time to read through your alchemy flashcards, memorizing them, when he wasn’t even taking the subject himself, just to help you study, left you feeling dizzy and overwhelmed. 

Sweet Oz, he really was the best. 

„Fiyero, I - you-“

„I’m incredible, I know, thank you, darling“, he said, smirking. Not giving you the chance to tell him how much you loved him - or to say anything else, for the matter -, he squeezed your hands once more, before running his hands through his hair, leaning back. 

„Now, I’m sure you’ll remember the mass of red clover you need to use in an antidote for poisons bending the free will-“

He’d barely finished asking the question when you were already rattling off the answer, able to visualize the flashcard, covered in your neat, cramped handwriting, in your head. 

Fiyero nodded, grinning. „Quite right, which means that the correct ratio for red clover and amaranth is?“ 

For a moment, you could only stare at him in surprise. Had he actually taken the time to memorize the entire content of your flashcards, including all the extra footnotes and notes in the margins, you’d scribbled in a particularly small, cramped font, when you’d been using the cards for revision a few days ago? 

Fiyero’s knowing, self-satisfied smirk answered your question, and you could only shake your head at him in awe. 

„You’re the best“, you said in a weak, awe-struck voice. 

Fiyero just smirked. „I know, but that still doesn’t answer my question, love.“ 

He leaned in closer towards you again, reaching for your hands, which were still resting on your thighs. This time, he didn’t thread your fingers together, instead he started to gently rub your skin in soothing circles. 

You let out a quiet, satisfied sigh - up until now you’d tried to ignore how stiff and aching your hands had been feeling lately, but Fiyero seemed to know exactly what he needed to do in order to gently soothe the pain in your stiff, aching joints. 

„So?“, Fiyero asked, his chocolate brown eyes meeting yours. 

The intensity in his eyes caught you off guard - though, at first glance, his gaze seemed soft and full of concern for you, but there seemed to be something darker and hungrier beneath the concern - and that, paired with how incredibly good he looked with his reading glasses, caused your cheeks to flush. 

„I - what?“, you asked him, having completely forgotten about alchemy and the proper ratio for red clover and amaranth in antidotes for the moment. 

Fiyero chuckled. „Already speechless …“ 

You rolled your eyes at his comment, casting about for a snappy remark, but just then, Fiyero gently squeezed both your hands once more, before both his hands settled on the insides of your thighs, dangerously close to the hem of the skirt of your Shiz uniform. 

„The proper ratio for red clover and amaranth in antidotes for poisons that aim at bending the free will, I’m sure you remember that, love?“ 

His tone was entirely light and innocent, but the dark, hungry gleam in his eyes and his satisfied smirk told you that he knew exactly what he was doing to you, when his hands started to slide higher, and higher, underneath your skirt, until you felt his fingertips brushing against the soft, sensitive skin of the inside of your thigh. 

Your breath hitched, you couldn’t help it. 

Fiyero leaned even closer towards you then, his eyes finding yours again. 

„The proper ratio, darling?“, he asked you again, just when his fingertips started to explore the skin of your thighs with teasing, soft touches. 

„I - I“, you stuttered, trying your hardest the recall the notes you’d taken concerning the particular question, but to no avail. Your mind was focused entirely on just one thing: Fiyero. 

The way he was looking up at you, now not even trying to conceal the hunger in his eyes, was making you feel dizzy, and his fingertips, wandering ever higher, now dangerously close to the seam of your underwear, kept you on edge, and you felt your heart start to beat faster. 

Fiyero chuckled, just as his fingertips brushed innocently over your clothed mound. 

You squirmed, your breath hitching, and your hands gripped at the arms of your desk chair, your grip so tight that your knuckles whitened.

 „If you want, I could help you out, love“, he said, his dark eyes finding yours again. Normally, you’d have rolled your eyes at his blatant innuendo, but as it was, all you found yourself able to do was trying to lean into his touch, wanting - no, needing - to feel the delicious friction of his fingertips against your core again. 

Fiyero held your gaze, all while his fingertips brushed over your clothed core again. You sighed, closing your eyes in relief, though the relief was only short-lived. 

Heat was starting to build in your stomach, and again, you found yourself leaning into Fiyero’s touch, your hands leaving the desk chair, and reaching for Fiyero, settling on his shoulders. 

„The proper ratio, love“, Fiyero said, his fingers now drawing teasing circles over the fabric of your underwear, „is very important to remember, because due to red clover’s strong effect on the mind, it could quickly act as neutralizing, instead of amplifying when used in too high dosages.“ 

Your eyes widened. Now that Fiyero explained it, you were able to recall the information yourself, even able to conjure up the image of the flashcard containing that particular information in your mind. What really had you staring at your boyfriend in awestruck fascination though, was the fact that he was able to recall such information at all, given his current circumstances. 

If the roles had been reversed, you wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on anything but him, you thought, as your eyes found Fiyero’s again. 

He smirked at you, watching as your cheeks flushed, as he increased the pressure of his fingertips on your core. 

„Fiyero“, you said breathlessly, breath hitching when, suddenly, his hands settled on your waist with a strong grip, and he drew you in even closer towards him. When his grip on you relaxed, your legs fell open almost instinctually, effectively trapping Fiyero between your thighs. 

He didn’t seem to mind in the slightest however, the dark glint in his eyes intensifying. 

„Not quite the answer I was looking for“, he said, his tone casual, almost matter of-factly, which was in stark contrast to his knowing, satisfied smirk and his wandering fingertips, which brushed against your underwear again, until he finally, finally took mercy on you and slipped his fingers beneath the fabric. 

„But I suppose it’ll do just as well“, he muttered, his eyes finding yours, as his fingers brushed over your core again, this time without the irksome barrier of your underwear in the way.

You whined, trying to lean into his touch, but Fiyero didn’t increase the pressure of his touch, continuing to draw teasing circles over your core. 

„Fiyero“, you said, breath hitching, „please, I - I … I - just - please …“ 

It was torture, what he was doing to you, you thought. Complete torture. Kneeling between your thighs, his hair tousled just the way you liked it, looking up at you with a dark, hungry expression in his eyes behind his glasses, and yet he still wouldn’t touch you - not really, not in the way you really needed him to. 

„Please, just - just touch me, please, I-“, the rest of your words was lost to the breathless, loud whine you let out, when suddenly, without warning, the pressure of his touch on your core increased, and he started rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves in earnest, while he used his other hand to impatiently tug your underwear down your legs. 

„The proper ratio is always double the amount of amaranth, due to red clover’s strong effectiveness“, Fiyero said, his own voice now sounding breathless. Having managed to successfully wrangle your underwear down your legs, his left hand settled on the inside of your thigh again.

Continuing to rub your bundle of nerves with his right hand, his left hand moved up your thigh, his fingertips edging ever closer towards your core, until he stopped his movements just when his fingertips had grazed against your core. 

„Though I suppose you’ve answered the first part of my question, which means that you’re due a reward.“ 

When he finally pushed two fingers into you, you could have cried out in relief. Your grip on his shoulder blades tightened, but Fiyero didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. 

The thought that you should probably feel embarrassed by how you’d already turned to putty in his hands, how wet you already were, briefly crossed your mind, but then Fiyero started to pump his fingers in and out of you in a torturously slow rhythm, and every other thought but how incredibly good he made you feel, seemed to fade from your mind.

„But maybe you do remember what the best time for picking red clover is? It was in another footnote on the flashcard, love“, Fiyero said, his own voice sounding increasingly breathless and strained as his eyes found yours again. 

How he could recall any of the contents of your flashcards at all when he currently had two fingers buried deep inside of you, curling them just the way he knew drove you wild, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot, was entirely beyond you. 

As it was, you barely managed to wheeze out „Mid-Midnight“, before moaning embarrassingly loud, when Fiyero added a third finger, stretching you open even wider. 

„Good girl“, Fiyero groaned, his hand leaving your clit for a moment as he hitched your right leg up over his shoulder. The fingers of his other hand were still buried deep inside you and you felt yourself squeezing around him, your breath hitching, the new angle almost making you see stars in front of your eyes. 

The aching heat in your belly was building and building with every stroke of Fiyero’s fingers and soon you found yourself moving your hips in time with his hands, meeting his thrusts and seeking out more and more and more of the delicious friction. 

But then, just when you were chasing after your peak, feeling the aching, delicious heat in you building and building, Fiyero abruptly stopped his movements. 

At this, you actually did let out a cry of frustration, not caring about anything but your denied peak and the fact that Fiyero’s fingers were still buried deep inside of you, yet he was refusing to move them, denying you what you so desperately wanted - no, needed.

„Fiyero, please-“

„One last question, darling“, he said, his voice sounding rough and strained, and his hand left your clit again and you watched him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks as he carelessly took of his glasses, tossing them to the side. 

„From here on out, will you listen to me, Elphie and Glinda when we’re concerned about you?“ 

The question caught you off guard, and you found yourself leaning forwards, wanting to be closer to Fiyero, but the sudden movement only caused his fingers to slide deeper into you. 

„I - what?“, you moaned, biting down hard on your lip. 

Fiyero’s dark eyes found yours again, his gaze serious. „You’ll listen to me when I’ll tell you to take a break? Exams are important, but so is your health, darling.“ 

As if to punctuate his point, he curled his fingers again, hitting your sweet spot perfectly. 

„Yes, Sweet Oz, yes“, you whined desperately, your hips rocking forward again, „yes, I - anything you want, Fiyero, just please-“

„Good girl.“ 

And without further warning, Fiyero lowered his head between your thighs, and you felt his lips right were you so desperately needed them. And instead of continuing to tease you and work you into a desperate, frenzy mess like he usually would with featherlight kisses against your core, he immediately licked a flat stripe over your slit with his tongue. 

„Fiyero!“ 

You nearly came undone right then and there. His tongue immediately delved into your folds, replacing his fingers, giving you exactly what you needed. 

Your fingers found their way into Fiyero’s hair, tugging at his strands maybe a little too harshly, but if the low, satisfied groan that escaped him was any indication, he seemed to enjoy it, like he usually did. 

Fiyero pressed his thumb to your clit again, applying just the right amount of pressure, as his tongue continued to slide in and out of you, perfectly hitting your sweet spot repeatedly. 

Soon, you were a quivering, panting mess, desperately arching your back and bucking your hips up to meet the sure, confident strokes of Fiyero’s tongue. You found yourself clenching around him again, as the pleasurable heat in your core kept building, nearly at its breaking point. 

A whiny, desperate moan escaped you, and you found your grip on Fiyero’s hair tightening even more. 

„Fiyero, I - I - fuck!“, you panted, unable to string together a coherent sentence anymore. 

Fiyero seemed to understand what you were trying to tell him, though, for he replaced his tongue with his fingers again, setting a brutal, unforgiving pace, as he swirled his tongue over your now swollen, incredibly sensitive bundle of nerves. 

„I - Fiyero“, you panted. 

You were so close, so incredibly close- 

„Don’t hold back“, Fiyero now groaned, the hand that had been previously settled on your hip reaching up, and you immediately reached for it, „come for me, good girl.“

That did the trick. 

The coil in your belly snapped, and overwhelming waves of pleasure crested over you. 

You came, with a loud cry of Fiyero’s name on your lips, and squeezing his hand so tightly, your fingernails digging into his skin that you were sure they were going to leave crescent shaped marks on his skin. 

Fiyero took everything you gave him, guiding you through your high, as he squeezed your hand back, his thumb rubbing gentle circles over your skin, greedily lapping up all your juices. 

For a few, incredible moments there was nothing but Fiyero and the waves of pleasure claiming you. 

Then, slowly, you started coming back down from your high. Fiyero was still kneeling between your legs, his tongue greedily lapping up the last of your juices and you squirmed from the overstimulation. Fiyero didn’t let you pull away from him, though. 

Only after lapping up the last drop, and, looking at you with a knowing, challenging expression in his eyes as he pressed his lips right against your swollen, sensitive nub - which had you squirming, moaning unintelligible nothings, your grip on his hair tightening once more - did he pull away, gently sliding your leg back down from his shoulder, before gently scooping you up in his arms. 

You felt like putty in his hands, nothing more than a tangle of limbs. 

You were still breathing heavily as he sat down in your desk chair, gently positioning you in his lap. Fiyero tucked your head against his chest, softly stroking your hair as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, while you continued to come back down from your high. 

After a few moments, you found the strength to reach for Fiyero’s hand, threading your fingers together. 

His eyes found yours again, and the love for you you saw in them, nearly took your breath away again. 

„Sweet Oz, that was incredible, you’re - fuck, I love you so much, Fiyero“, you said, reaching up and pressing your lips to his. 

Fiyero let out a soft noise at your words, kissing you back softly. The kiss was slow and sweet, and though you could feel how aroused he still was, you wanted to bask in this slower moment with him for a bit longer. 

When Fiyero broke the kiss, he leaned his forehead against yours, cupping your cheek with his free hand. „By Oz, you’re incredible, darling. I love you so much.“ 

You smiled, pressing another soft kiss against his lips. 

When Fiyero pulled back again, his eyes were still soft and full of love, but his lips slowly formed into a smirk. „Though, what was that bit about studying quietly being the usual thing to do?“ 

You rolled your eyes. „You’re unbelievable, you know that?“ 

He just smirked. „Maybe so, but you love it.“ 

Seeing as there was no point in his arguing this particular sentiment, you just pressed your lips to his again, though this time not nearly as softly and sweetly as before. Fiyero groaned, deepening the kiss. 

You reached up, winding your arms around his neck. 

You had a feeling that you were not going to leave your room for quite some time. Not that you minded, not even in the slightest.

Studying could wait a bit longer. 

tagging: @foxherder @a-quick-request @deepkittymoon @hazbingirliexoxo @inejsknifes @miadollaasignn @delespresso @losttombgirlie @potato-painter

so sorry for the long wait!! the holidays stress was real this year around

[keanusbabydoll]

consequence

paring: john wick x virgin!fem!reader

warnings: 18+ content, heavy smut, oral (M and F), unprotected sex, p in v, age gap, rough sex, fingering, overstimulation, praising, cursing, use of y/n, virgin reader, porn with plot, pet names

wordcount: 6.5k

MNDI

. • °✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ . • °✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ . • °✧༺ ༻*✫

you didn’t know how you ended up in this situation.

tied to a chair in an apartment of a hotel, your mouth covered with duck tape.

next to you stood a tall man, slick black hair and wearing a suit. but that was all you could make out. the room was pitch dark except for the moonlight shining slightly through the window across from you.

you didn’t know what to do. your body was shaking in fear and inside you was a chaos of emotions. you thought that this was your end, that you were going to die. the man asked you questions, some of them you didn’t even understand. who sent you? what is your mission? who are you working for?

all that didn’t make sense to you.

all you wanted to do there was looking for answers. a few days ago, you found a red folder in your grandpas office at home. winston scott. the only family you had left. but something always seemed off with him. he never let you come to work with him, was always very distant if you asked about his job and was barely at home. you knew that he hid something from you. and you were determined to find out, so all you could think about was looking in his office which you weren’t even allowed to enter.

but you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. you needed to know what was going on. so, you found that red, promising folder and what you found in there took your breath away.

there were pictures of a hotel you definitely knew and flipping to the next pages you stumbled across the high table, rules- also from the hotel, and the criminal underworld. you didn’t know what to say. it all didn’t seem real. it was like straight out of a movie. you wanted it to be unreal but all this was proof that it was reality. and now everything started to make sense to you. that was the reason why your grandpa never told you anything about his job, let you come along or was gone for weeks. at this point you even wondered how you’ve never heard anything from all that before. it was confusing.

but right now you deeply regretted walking into that hotel. you just wanted answers, wanted to search for your grandpa and talk to him. but that man must have known that you weren’t here, like every other criminal, to seek protection.

you were desperately trying to get out of the restraints that tied you to the chair, tears were streaming down your face like a waterfall and constant whimpers and whines left your mouth- wordlessly begging him to set you free. you had no idea what that man was going to do with you. and that scared you to death. but nothing helped. he acted like you weren’t even there.

"please.“ you mumbled through the tape, your eyes pleading silently. in a matter of seconds he turned on his heels sharply, his patience wearing thin and his fingers immediately wrapped harshly around your gin, forcing you to look up. "one more fucking sound and you won’t get out alive.“ he growled, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

you quickly nodded your head as he let go of your gin and marched across the room, stopping by a table which had a telephone placed on it. you watched him as he dialed a number and waited impatiently, the tight grip on the telephone proof of it.

"hello sir.“ he suddenly said. you could make out a faint male‘s voice but didn’t hear what he was saying.

"yes i‘d like to speak to the manager." a sigh fell from his lips. "no, here in room 818.“ he continued, his voice deep and cold. "thank you.“ he ended the call, tossing the telephone back on the table before storming off to a different room.

you were left alone with your thoughts when suddenly your blood froze.

the manager.

you almost forgot that your grandpa owned this hotel. you started to panic even more. you had no idea how he would react seeing you tied up in one of his apartments. plus, you weren’t even supposed to know about this place. the tears were now getting more and more, blurring your vision completely but you tried your best to keep quiet. you didn’t want to anger that man further.

minutes of heavy, uncomfortable silence passed and there was still no sight of him. your emotions were starting to eat you up, the fear, sadness, anger drove you insane.

but out of a sudden there was a loud knock echoing through the whole apartment. you shrieked up, your head turning to the door‘s direction when the lights turned on. you immediately closed your eyes, blinking a few times to get used to it. again, you looked over to the door and found the man unlocking it.

"johnathan.“ is the first thing you heard before grandpa stepped into the room. your eyes widened and your pulse quickened. there was no going back now.

"winston.“ the man replied, both of them shaking hands.

"is there something wrong johnathan?“ grandpa asked, his eyes fixated on the man.

"there was a little incidence. i thought i’d show you, let you decide what you’d like to do with her.“ johnathan answered, gesturing his head towards your direction. when winston‘s eyes followed johnathan’s gesture, his mouth slightly parted and his movements stopped. the second you had eye contact, you began to whimper, wriggle, trash around, just anything to make him come to you and free you from your position.

fortunately he took that as a sign and ran over to you, immediately kneeling down, untying the ropes around your wrists and ankles before he ripped the tape off your mouth, eliciting a painful hiss from you. in an instant, you got to your feet, wrapped your arms around his neck and began to cry again.

"i‘m so sorry grandpa. please forgive me, i didn’t mean to-" you were cut off mid-sentence when he slightly pushed you away from his embrace, looking at you with a disappointed face.

you glared at him with pure confusion. what was going on? your eyes darted over to that man, or well johnathan, who watched the situation closely with furrowed eyebrows. your eyes snapped back to your grandpa when he suddenly gripped your upper arm, squeezing it harshly. "what are you-"

"what the fuck has crossed your brilliant mind to do such a thing!?“ grandpa suddenly yelled, making you jump slightly. you wanted to answer him but you couldn’t. you didn’t know what to tell him.

"how do you even know about this place? did you snoop around in my office, y/n?“ he continued, his tone cold and angry.

you couldn’t answer him. you broke his highest rule- not entering his office and you did even worse. "answer my question!“ he hissed at you, making you jump a little. your eyes were glued to the floor, not having the confidence to look him in the eye.

"yes, i - i found your folder.“ you quietly mumbled. the grey haired man huffed out in disbelief and released your arm, taking a few steps away before looking at johnathan. they exchanged a weird look, you couldn’t tell the meaning of and it freaked you out.

somehow you didn’t get what the big deal now was. sooner or later you would have found out anyway, he couldn’t have kept that secret forever. you looked up at him, catching him pinching the bridge of his nose.

"do you have any idea what you’ve gotten yourself into? i never wanted you to know about this world.“

your mouth opened to say something but nothing came out. there was nothing to say.

his stare darkened as he continued. "i wanted to protect you, keep you away from that. and now with that stupid and reckless action of yours you ruined everything. there are hundreds of criminals, assassins, brutal murderers in my hotel and they saw you. you’ve got their attention and they’ll talk about you, y/n.“ tears began to form in your eyes, you didn’t even know why but the whole situation made you feel incredibly awful.

"i‘m sorry.“ you quietly whispered, sending him an apologetic look.

johnathan and grandpa huffed out in sync, a playful smirk played on the black haired man’s mouth. "oh, you’re sorry. y/n, a simple sorry won’t do it! you do not understand what this means right now! i do have enemy’s, what if they’ll hunt you down, what if they’ll try to kill you?“ your grandpa sneered at you, eyes narrowed. "i can’t believe it y/n, since when do you do shit like this?“

you frowned, staring at the floor again. on one hand you felt like a disappointment to your grandpa. you always tried to make him proud and he cared for you like the parent you’ve lost at a young age. but on the other hand you were furious. he was giving you all fault. like, did he actually think that you’d never find out? or the fact that he’s a criminal himself and runs a hotel for those people, speaks for itself. to keep something like that from you made you angry, hurt you even.

you furrowed your eyebrows at him angrily, forcefully wiping the tears that stained your cheeks away. both men stared at you impatiently, waiting for your reply. but in their eyes, there was a gleam of hate and disappointment.

"what? cat got your tongue?“ winston stated mockingly and you felt like you were about to loose your temper.

"you want me to talk? fine.“ you replied, your eyes darting between both men. "what do you expect me to do now? turn into some fucking monster like you two are? kill people and torture them? or join your little gangster club you always kept secret from me?“ you raised your voice, laced with pure sarcasm and anger.

a dark chuckled rang through the room, sending unpleasant tingles through your body. johnathan. of course he found the whole situation amusing. he thought that your behavior was childish and funny.

"you know nothing about this world. there is no 'little gangster club', things are serious.“ he pointed out sharply, crossing his arms over his chest. you huffed out, taking a few steps closer to johnathan but you were stopped by a hand on your wrist. your eyes switched to your grandpa who looked at you disapprovingly. "don’t even try it.“ he warned you lowly.

"i don’t even know him? what is he even doing here?“ you yelled at them now, your emotions taking over you, tears forming in the corner of your eyes again. "do you even know how i’m feeling right now? i can’t fucking believe that you lied to me all this time only to find out a few days ago that you’re a fucking criminal!“

"do not raise your voice at me y/n!“ winston snapped, pointing a finger at you warningly. "or what? you gonna ground me for it?“

"no, johnathan and i’ll have a talk now. you stay here, i don’t want a single misbehavior from you. am i clear?“ you wanted to yell at him so badly, but you knew better than that. there would have been no use in discussing further with him anyway.

"mhm.“ you hummed, turning around to sit on the bed. "what was that?“ winston muttered. "yes, i understand.“ you mumbled and watched them as they exited the room.

you collapsed on the bed, your face buried in your hands. you wanted to slap yourself for being this stupid. if you just would’ve listened to winston and followed his rules then you wouldn’t have been in this situation. many thoughts crossed your mind, and your head felt like it would explode. but one thing weighed most on you; you wanted to know what they were talking about and how all that would continue. a while left your lips and you exhaled loudly.

minutes passed and still they weren’t back. and it was frustrating you. what could they possibly discuss this long? just as you wanted to go out and look for them, the door opened and both of them stepped in. you immediately sat up, looking at them curiously.

your grandpa stopped directly in front of you, glaring down at you with a serious mask. and you knew that face. it never meant something good. johnathan had a emotionless expression plastered on his face, waiting for winston to speak up.

"johnathan and i have talked and we’ve come to an agreement. you’ll be staying with him from now on. he’ll teach you how to fight, how to be prepared for-"

"excuse me? what?“ you interrupted, caught off from his words. he must be joking, you thought. he wouldn’t have let you live with a stranger who was a killer, right?

"i‘m serious y/n.“ he snarled, clearly annoyed by your behavior.

"you want me to stay with the crazy killer who tied me to a fucking chair? not gonna happen.“ you replied, crossing your arms. not over your dead parents you would have done that.

"i am not going to discuss with you, y/n. also, you don’t get to decide this, sweetheart. this is the consequence for your action, so face it.“ grandpa pointed out, his voice dripping with sarcasm as a smirk was plastered on his lips. you were stunned, speechless even. you truly didn’t know what to say.

two months later

john‘s house, or villa - how you like to call it - nestled on the outskirts of new york, became your new home. after the argument, back in john’s apartment, he and your grandpa practically forced you to pack your stuff and move in with the assassin. it was hard, for all of you, but especially for you. your world was turned upside down and you felt like you weren’t even real. it all happened so fast -too fast. you were mad at your grandpa, ever since then you haven’t talked to him.

in your opinion, he was the one who was to blame. if he would have just told you about all this calmly, just the two of you, you wouldn’t have been in this awful situation now. of course you missed him, but you felt like he was mad himself and you didn’t have the energy to call him.

however, you slowly got used to living with john. it was strange to be honest, a weird atmosphere that made uncomfortable. he hardly ever talked to you, which bothered you dearly because you thought that it would be a good start to create small conversations but john basically avoided your attempts. the first month turned into grueling routines. mornings, afternoons, evenings -all focused on training.

there were bruises on your arms and legs, soreness in muscles you never knew you had. john wasn’t merciful, not in the least. he pushed you harder than you thought possible, demanding more each time. and whenever you showed any sign of weakness, his responses were brutal and without sympathy. but as difficult as he was, you found yourself watching him more and more. the way he moved -silent, calculated, almost predatory. his voice deep and rough, had a way of making your heart skip even as he issued orders. and not to forget how sexy he was to you. you often imagined fucking with him like there was no morning.

but you tried to hide it, to ignore the way your stomach fluttered whenever he spoke your name, or the way your heart pounded when his hand accidentally brushed against yours. but the feelings for him grew, every day, every lesson, you found yourself falling harder.

compared to now, the training grew more intense, but john’s coldness also seemed to deepen. you couldn’t understand why; you’ve gotten to know each other, you thought, shared so much time together, but he seemed more guarded than ever. you wanted to believe that there was something between that icy exterior, a warmth you’d occasionally glimpsed in his eyes, but he was difficult to read.

one evening, close to 8 pm, you found yourself again in the training room you hated so much. your arms and legs ached, your body was slick with sweat and your head felt like it was going to explode. but even seeing you in such a state, john didn’t budge, he just continued to explain and show you more and more techniques.

"like this.” he instructed, his voice low as his hands adjusted his stance. he tried to come at you again but you dodge his blow. frustration bubbled inside you, fueled by his coldness, his distance, your own feelings. for the last time, you took all your strength together. before he could react, you had one leg wrapped around his torso, one hand around his neck- surprising him with a quick maneuver. with all your power, you used the momentum to throw him to the ground. to your shock, you ended up on top of him, straddling his waist - both hands on his chest- your breathing quick and heavy.

john’s eyes met yours, his usual coldness softened by a hint of something you couldn’t quite read. the tension between you both thickened, your cheeks flushed red as you realized the position you guys were in. you could feel his heart beat beneath you, see the dark glint eyes in his eyes as they held your gaze.

"impressive.” he murmured, his voice rough.

your breath caught and your mouth opened to speak, but before you could, john’s hand was on your waist, the other around your throat as he pulled you down, closing the space between you. his lips met yours, firm, commanding and your heart skipped, every nerve igniting. you gasped, but the kiss grew more intense, he slipped his tongue in your mouth, claiming you. his hand wandered up and down your back, stopping at your ass, giving it a harsh squeeze, eliciting a muffled moan from you.

your fingers gripped his shirt, pulling him closer. the heat began to pool in your panties when you felt his hard- on pressing against your core. your body automatically started to grind down, trying to gain friction to ease the ache that tingled in your abdomen. but john pulled away, stopping your kiss.

"not here.” he muttered, easily getting up with you still clung to him. you wrapped your legs around his waist, your mouths colliding again. his hands on your ass, supporting your weight. he walked out of the room, your lips never parting. john entered the living room and sat down on the couch with you still on top of him. his hands now roamed your whole body, squeezing your breasts, running up and down your back, slapping your ass slightly. again, your hips began to grind down against him, his cock now rock hard, the feeling making you whine out. john also groaned into the kiss, loving the pleasure he received just as much.

then, john let his hands slip under your shirt, caressing the warm skin, before he broke your kiss, pulling the fabric over your head and tossing it away. his eyes admired your half naked body, focusing on your tits which were pushed up plumply from your bra. he immediately bent down and started to suck on your neck, licking and biting the sensitive skin with fever. your body arched into his touch, small moans escaping your lips as you shut your eyes.

you felt john’s hands reaching around your middle to unclasp your bra before pulling both straps down, adding the piece of clothing to the floor. he withdrew from your neck, taking in your bare tits, his eyes turning darker with the desire. "fuck, doll.” he licked his lips before he dipped down, immediately taking one of your hardened nipple into his mouth. his tongue swirled around the bud while sucking on it harshly. "oh, john.” you whined out, his abuse sending jolts of pleasure directly to your cunt. your movements began to fasten, your moans growing louder.

john switched sides, taking care of your other nipple equally. "more, john.” you begged him, your fingers pulling on his raven hair. but john released your nipple and pushed you back slightly. "get on your knees.” he growled, voice full of dominance. you blinked at him a few times, your breath heavy, before you got off his lap and placed yourself between his thighs. "come on, be a good girl for daddy.” he said lowly while gesturing to his bulge, his tone sending shivers down your spine.

hesitatingly, you let your hands ran up his thighs, wrapping your fingers around the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers. you swiftly pulled both down, letting them pool around his ankles before he stepped out of them. your eyes widened a little at the sight of his cock.

thick. long. veiny. he almost looked intimidating, making you wonder how you’ll be able to take all of him. you scooted closer to him, staring up at him with doe eyes. "now don’t be shy, doll. go on.” he commanded, waiting desperately for your next move.

with a slightly shaking hand, you wrapped it around his base before licking a tiny strip along his reddened tip. his dick immediately twitched at the contact, a low groan falling from his lips. carefully, you licked his shaft before dipping the head completely in your mouth. you looked up at him so innocently, so desperate. john placed his hand on your head, slightly gripping the roosts of your hair. he began to push your head further down in his length, your nose almost touching his pelvis. a loud strangled gag rang through the room, as your whole body shivered and tears immediately shot into your eyes. "relax baby, breath through your nose." he rasped lowly, eyeing you with desire.

you blinked your tears away, focusing back on giving him pleasure. you began to bob your head up and down his cock, slow and teasing at first. the loud groans that fell from his lips only urged you to go faster, signing you that you were doing good. you let your tongue swirl around his shaft, massaging it and pressing it strongly against his shaft. john's eyes opened again, falling immediately down to you, growling out when he saw your plump lips wrapped around him so perfectly.

he couldn't hold back anymore.

his hand gripped tighter and he began to move your head on his cock in a fast pace, controlling your movements. you tried your best to relax your throat, letting him use your throat however he pleased. drool was slowly dripping down your gin and your eyes were watery, his size almost bruising your throat. you constantly felt his tip brushing against the back of your throat and his hips began to jerk. your hands held onto his thighs, needing support as he pulled your head down even faster and rougher. you were a mess at that point. your mascara was running down your cheeks, spit practically all over your face and your arms were shaking.

john's cock started to twitch uncontrollably and you knew he was close to releasing, making you swirl your tongue with even more pressure. but before he could empty his load into your mouth, he withdrew your head from his length, a guttural growl escaping his throat. "I'm only gonna fill up your little cunt."

his words sent sparks through your lower half, feeling the heat pooling in your panties, slowly dripping down your thighs from how much you're turned on.

you tried to catch your breath when he already pulled you up to straddle his waist again before he laid you down on the sofa. he immediately gripped your shirt, tearing it off your body. next, he got rid your shorts, pulling your panties with it. he glared down at your form, sprawled out beneath him and he could feel jolts of pleasure shooting through his entire body. the only piece of clothing that was in his way to see you completely bare, was your bra. in a matter of seconds he unclasped it and added it to the pile of clothes.

and that's when your panic set it.

you were still a virgin and he didn't know.

you were unsure if you should tell him, not knowing how he would react. you already felt like he was a little hesitant about doing all this with you, simply out of respect to your grandpa. he was his closest friend, his most loyal and go to person. and then betraying him like that and fucking with his granddaughter?

you just knew that this was eating john up innerly. but his desire seemed to win. nonetheless, you had to tell him, you wanted him to know.

you watched him with a quick beating heart when he removed his shirt and leaned down, his hands and legs trapping you between his body. without a second thought, john bowed his head down and began to suck on your neck, prepping your hot skin with open mouthed kisses. a quiet moan fell from your lips, giving in to his touch. he trailed his kissed down to your breasts, sucking feverishly on your flesh before letting his tongue swirl around your hardened nipple, sucking harshly. john hummed out at the feeling, making his way down your belly, desperately wanting to taste you. but that's when you cupped his face with your hands and forced him to look up to you.

john grinned up at you, coming closer to a point where your lips almost touched. "I can't wait to finally taste you, ruin that little pussy." he groaned in your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin. your breathing got heavier and your hands slightly shook. you had to tell him now before it was too late.

"uhm- john, I-i need to tell you something." you pointed out with a shaky voice, your face turning aside, avoiding eye contact. "anything, baby." he replied, before he went back to kissing your neck.

"it's just... I've never done something like this before." you whispered, practically almost inaudible. "I didn't hear you, say it again." john mumbled between kisses, not even registering your words, being too caught up with worshipping your body.

you sighed out, lips pouting. "I'm a virgin, John." you said now louder, your eyes searching for his. and this time he must have heard it. his movements stopped and his now narrowed eyes met yours. without you even fully understanding what was happening, he removed his body from yours in the blink of an eye, grabbing his clothes which rested on the floor. "john, I-"

"no, don't even start with your stupid excuses. I knew that this would be wrong and that I shouldn't even have let it come so far. but taking you virginity? disgusting." he hisses harshly, voice clearly raised as he turned away.

you felt tears pricking in your eyes. that's not how you imagined it would go. you laid there completely horny, embarrassed but also hurt. you dearly wanted him to be your first time and now he left you all railed up and wetness pooling between your thighs. "but I want you to continue, please! I want you to take my virginity. and I won't regret you being my first time, I promise. please, john." you bitterly whined, hoping that he would change his mind.

you heard him taking in a deep breath as he turned around again, eyes darker than before.

"please, I need you!" you whimpered, rubbing your thighs uncomfortably together, the painful ache in your core unbearable at that point. "John..." you pleaded him, glaring up at him with puppy eyes.

finally he sighs, dropping his clothes again before getting on top of you again. "are you sure, y/n? i won't be able to control myself. " he said in a dangerous, low tone, sending shivers down your spine.

"yes john, I'm sure. please, touch me." you replied impatiently, wrapping your legs around his torso, arms around his shoulders to pull him in as close as possible. "good, because now there is no going back anymore." he rasped as he leaned in, claiming your lips. you gasped into the kiss when you felt the tip of his cock nudging at your clit, shock waves of pleasure rushing through your veins. "I need you john." you moaned into the kiss, pressing your hips up to gain friction. he groaned out in response, sneaking a hand down your body to let a finger slide between your folds. "fuck, you're so wet." he purred, slowly pushing a finger into your warm hole. your head fell back, breaking your kiss, at finally feeling him. "need to prepare that little pussy first." he growled, while licking the spot right beneath your ear.

with how slick you were, john could easily slip another finger in, moaning out at your tightness. he began to move them in and out rather fast, curling them up to reach your spongy spot. "feels so good." you whined, toes curling from his abuse. a third finger teased at your hole, collecting your juice before pushing it in as well, this time with a little more pressure. your eyes rolled back at the stretch of his thick digits, a slight pain cursing through you.

john scissored his fingers stretching your walls further before he went back to pumping them at a quick pace. he plunged them inside you a few more times before pulling slowly out, deciding that you were ready for his cock. you whined pathetically at the loss, needing him so bad.

you lifted your head to look down when you felt his tip nudging at your entrance. he gripped himself, lining up before looking at you again. "ready?"

you immediately nodded your head yes, excited to finally feel his cock inside of you. never breaking eye contact, john carefully pushed his tip inside of your cunt, eliciting a sharp his from you. "you okay?" he asked you with a soft voice. "yes, continue please." you answered breathlessly.

obeying your request, he pushed his hips forward with a swift motion and to your shock he pushed in his whole length. a yelp tore from your throat, followed by a painful cry. it almost was too much for you. his size stretching you walls to their limit, tip pressing against your cervix and the feeling of being this full made you dizzy. "ah- john.”

"told you i couldn’t hold myself back.” he uttered, his dark eyes fixated on your lips.

your walls clamped helplessly around him, trying to get used to his monstrous size and the burning sensation didn’t make it better. "you’re so big.” you cried out in a high pitched tone, eyes shut.

john looked down to where your body’s connected, gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw at the sight. he could feel his dick twitch being squeezed this tight between your perfect velvety walls. he did his best to restrain him, wanting you to get used to him.

but john couldn’t.

he was already too obsessed with being inside of you, the feeling indescribable for him. it was like you were made for only him.

with a groan he pulled his hips back, almost slipping out of your cunt before thrusting his whole length in again, deep and hard.

"oh god!” you sobbed, tears spilling down your cheeks.

"can’t stop myself, you feel too good wrapped around me.” he mumbled as he began to pound into you with a rather fast pace. strangled hisses left your mouth as he began to fuck you, the pain of the stretch still remaining.

to ease your pain, john sneaked his fingers down to your clit, rubbing it in quick circular motions. your legs immediately began to shake at the sudden pleasure, moans and whines escaping your throat. john groaned out shamelessly while getting you into a new position. he grabbed ahold of your leg, pushing it over his shoulders, allowing him to thrust even deeper. "ah-john!!” you almost yelled out, the pleasure and pain mixing perfectly together.

with every harsh thrusts of his hips, your breasts bounced back and forward deliciously, only adding fuel to john’s high. and hell did it approach fast. he was on the verge of cumming already, enjoying the feeling of your sweet walls way too much. with every roll of his fingers, your walls seemed to tighten more and more around him, making it hard for him to hold in his orgasm. his dick twitched uncontrollably, the veins were pulsating with need.

"fuck, i’m gonna cum princess.” he uttered, rubbing your clit faster and increasing the speed of his hips, determined to coax an orgasm out of you. and you felt the coil in your abdomen tighten too. the overwhelming pleasure you received from him, his dick hitting spots you didn’t even know existed perfectly and the stimulation on your clit made you see stars. "i’m close— ah- don’t stop.” you cried out, hands gripping tightly at his back, your nails digging little moons into his skin.

john took this as a sign, using all of his strength to pound into you in an animalistic way, ignoring the jerking of his hips. "now.” he just growled and with a few more harsh strokes and rubs on your clit you were sent to heaven.

the most powerful orgasm you ever experienced hit you like a lightning. your toes curled uncomfortably, legs were quivering and a moan that even pornstars couldn’t keep up with tore from your throat. "JOHN!!” your release triggered john’s even more and with a guttural groan he finally let his seed spurt deep inside of you, filling you up to the brim. he kept thrusting, making sure that every bit of his cum gets pumped inside you. you threw your head back at the overstimulation, body trashing and twitching at the intense assault.

finally, taking a deep breath in, john stopped his movements and released his fingers from your clit, collapsing on top of you. "you did so good, princess.” he mumbled while pressing soft kisses to your cheek.

“that was…” you exhaled deeply. "amazing.” smiling at him. john couldn’t suppress a grin as well, giving a small peck to your lips. your arms were still wrapped around his neck lazily and the feeling of him still buried inside you made this moment even more intimate.

when you looked up at him, you saw a devilish smirk plastered on his face. “but i didn’t get to taste you.” he pointed out, making you chuckle slightly.

“who said you couldn’t do it now?” you smirked at him, accepting his challenge. “you’re so fucking hot.” he just replied before pressing a last kiss to your lips. he carefully slipped his now soft dick out of your hole, eliciting a whine from you.

in the blink of an eye he was settled between your thighs, spreading them widely. he glanced down to your pussy and the sight of it made him hard again. his cum was leaking out of your entrance, slowly dripping down to your ass. he didn’t waste any time, pressing a few messy kisses to your inner thighs before wrapping his lips around your sensitive clit. you mewled out at the sensation, back arching off the couch.

john gathered his cum with his fingers before pushing it inside of you again, wanting you to have all of it. he curled his fingers up, reaching your g- spot immediately as he let them thrust into you rapidly, licking and swirling around your clit in the process.

you were shaking at the overstimulation, it almost felt too much for you. the pressure on your highly sensitive nud made you feel like your whole body was on fire.

john moaned at your taste, lapping at your cunt like a starved man, the vibrations he caused only added to your pleasure. your hands reached out and immediately gripped his raven hair, tugging on it harshly. "john— too much.” a fervent whimper hung in the air mixing with the squelching sounds of your pussy and the heavy scent of sex which made your brain all fuzzy.

“you can take it, doll.” he mumbled against your cunt, eyes connecting with yours as you saw him smirk mischievously. your lip pouted as you registered his words, head tipping back.

his digits rutted into your overstimulated spot with a unmerciful pace, making your orgasm approach quickly. he knew that you were getting closer and closer, your quivering thighs and constant high pitched moans making it obvious to him. john only increased the pace of his tongue flicking against your clit and began to suck firmly, determined to coax another orgasm out of you. the only thing on your mind was john and how good he fucked you with his talented fingers.

john’s free hand made its way up your body, gently caressing your sides before it gripped one of your breasts that was jiggling in sync with his thrusts, massaging and squeezing it.

your whole body was tingling and you were on the verge of cumming, almost reaching your peak. your grip on his hair tightened and you instinctively pushed his head harder against your cunt, thighs clamping around it.

“shit! i’m gonna cum!” you managed to squeal out, voice shaky and rough. john let out an answering groan, letting you know that you were allowed to cum.

for the last time, john sped up his fingers to an inhuman pace and that sent you straight into oblivion. a strangled cry rattled against the walls as you finally orgasmed, your body trashing around at the indescribable experience. he fucked you through your high, wanting you to feel every last spark of pleasure. tears pricked in the corner of your eyes, heavy breaths falling from your lips as you slowly came down from your release.

john now also slowed down his thrusts, mouth releasing your abused clit. he stared up at your fucked out form, proud of the masterpiece he created. after a few more pounds of his digits he carefully pulled out, immediately taking them in his mouth, licking off every bit of your sweet juices that coated them.

your eyes were shut tightly, trying to calm down from the intense orgasm. you felt john moving and when you opened your eyes again he already had you up in bridal style, you didn’t even notice all that as you were still caught in the after waves of your high.

he pressed your body tightly against his chest, his lips kissing your forehead sweetly. “my good girl.” he whispered in your ear as he began to walk out of the living room. “i’m fucking proud of you.”

you hummed in reply, snuggling up against him. “i’m glad we did this.” you mumbled, exhaustedly closing your eyes. john just quietly chuckled out, kissing you again. “let’s get you to bed, princess.”

REQUESTS ARE OPENED<3