#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."

[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.

[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 started sneaking around, then eventually became public which resulted in a tragic ending to her's and Glinda friendship, and turn's into something much more than what either had expected.

prologue

part.I

part.II

part.III

(a/n: Im not great at descriptions but this story is inspired by the song and 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!)

[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.)

[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 .

[ultravioletrayz]

𖤓KINKTOBER '24 M.LIST𖤓

my first ever kinktober!! have fun :)

day one: sensory deprivation w/ simon 'ghost' riley

day two: free use w/ billy butcher

day three: temp play w/ john wick

day four: dry humping w/ kyle 'gaz' garrick

day five: public sex + exhibitionism w/ homelander

day six: cockwarming w/ john price

day seven: phone sex + mutual masturbation w/ tony stark

day eight: glossaphilia w/ venom (+ eddie brock)

day nine: degradation w/ ellie williams

day ten: toys w/ wade wilson

day eleven: size difference w/ könig

day twelve: boot worship w/ soldier boy

day thirteen: edging w/ shiu kong

day fourteen: spanking w/ johnny 'soap' mactavish

day fifteen: somnophilia w/ queen maeve

day sixteen: cum play w/ toji fushiguro

day seventeen: pain kink w/ logan howlett

day eighteen: dirty massage w/ nanami kento

day nineteen: sex in the bath w/ higuruma hiromi

day twenty: HALLOWEEN w/ miguel o'hara

let's all pretend i actually finished this in october

[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."

[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 :(

[alrawabi-imagines]

For all time

Pairing: Glinda x Fem!Reader

Slots: Marking Somnophilia Filming/Photos

Glinda was always clingy and needy,wanting to kiss you,cuddle you and touch you. Even as you laid in bed next to her,sleeping. She kissed down your neck,biting to leave marks. Glinda had a habit of leaving bite marks and love bites on your neck,and you'd scolded her every time because they were so hard to hide. She loved the way the marks looked on your skin,the purple and red markings claiming you as hers.She was incredibly possessive despite you being her wife and no one daring to even try to flirt with you. She just liked showing off that you were hers. She would often cling and hug you if someone who she thought was flirting with you got too close,grumpy if they continued to try talking to you. Her hands ran down your body as she unwrapped your robe to reveal your pink nightgown. A short one that stopped at your upper thighs,she smirked seeing the previous marks she had left in between your thighs.Her eyes raked over your body,drinking in the view of you in the cute nightgown,her hand slowly running over the silky material.Glinda pushed up the nightgown further and further,revealing more and more of your skin to her hungry gaze,wanting to see all of you. As she got to your chest she both felt and saw that you had taken off your bra. Her lips curled into a pleased smirk.

"No bra hmm" she said,a sultry note in her voice. She kissed,bit and sucked on your chest. Leaving marks there too,she'd be scolded heavily for that. But she didn't care,as kept talking,words ran out as she touched you. She kissed down your stomach,still talking.

"God you look so good like this" Her hands wandered lower as she continued to leave love and bite marks on you,her touch roaming over your skin. Glinda continued down your stomach, her breath hot against your skin as she left a trail of soft kisses and love bites. "Mine. All Mine" Glinda's words poured from her lips,the sentences senseless as her attention was focused solely on you. "So gorgeous" She stopped once she reached your navel,pausing to look up at you. "My beautiful wife" she said,a possessive tone in her voice as she gently bit the skin above your navel. Glinda continued on her path down your body. "You mine. All mine." she whispered between kisses,her voice rough and possessive. She pressed a series of kisses to your inner thighs,her mouth hot against your skin as she left marks. Her hands gripped your hips as she spoke,her voice soft but filled with a possessive edge. She paused for a moment,her eyes tracing over your body as she laid between your legs. "No one else gets to touch you like this" she said,her voice a possessive growl as she looked up at you from between your thighs,her eyes locking onto yours. Her hands still grasping your hips,her mouth inching closer to your clit. "You're mine." Her hands slid around to your inner thighs,gently pushing your legs open a bit wider. She stuck her tongue out,licking a stripe up your clit. A hungry and possessive moan escaping her lips. Glinda's arms wrapped around your thighs gripping them tightly,her head nestled between your legs. "MINE." She repeated,her voice a growl against you as she started to eagerly lick and lap at your clit,lapping like a kitten at your soaked pussy. "Just for me." she said in between licks. Glinda's tongue moved even faster,wanting to taste as much of you as she could. "Every part of you is mine." she said,her hands moving to grip your hips in a tight hold. You gripped the sheets as you groaned,waking up to her in this position. "Good morning love." she said with a smirk,her tongue giving another soft swipe over your clit. She locked eyes with you immediately,a possessive look in her gaze as she continued working on you.

"That's one way to wake up,so what you too impatient to wait?" You asked,your hand on her head.

"Just wanted to start the day with a taste of my favorite thing." she said,her smirk growing. Glinda's head leaned toward your hand,nuzzling against it as her mouth continued its work.

You moved to sit up. "Where are you going? I'm not done yet." she protested,her hands still gripping your hips. You rubbed your eyes and noticed something 

"Is that a camera,Glinda?" Glinda's face morphed into a guilty expression as you noticed the camera.

"Uh...no?" she said, her voice unconvincing.She looked up at you,a sheepish look on her face,knowing she was caught.

"Glinda" you dragged her name out

"Fine,yes there's a camera." she mumbled,her face still sheepish. "I wanted to make a few videos..for later.." her voice trailed off,a blush starting to color her cheeks.

"Later?" You tilted your head

"..for when we're apart." she said softly. "So I can watch them...and..well..you know..." she said,her voice soft. You stretched your body. 

"Well if you're filming I might as well put on a show. Either get your strap or lay down" you gave her a choice of two things.

"Are those my only options?" she teased with a smirk, her eyes looking you up and down.

"What else did you have in mind?"

"Well, there is one more option..." she said, her smirk growing. You took off your robe and your nightgown as you waited for her to continue. "I could always film you riding my face" she said, the smirk still on her lips as she looked you up and down again. You pushed her down and moved on top. Finally seeing the marks on your inner thigh and then the ones on your chest. 

"Glinda" you said her name in a scolding tone.

"I know, I know.." she said in response to your scolding tone, her smirk turning sheepish again. "I got a little too carried away" she mumbled, reaching up to gently run her fingers over the marks she had left on your chest. "You're just...so gorgeous. I have a hard time controlling myself sometimes. Wanted to make sure everyone knows you're mine."

"I'm pretty confident they already knew"

"Can't hurt to leave a few reminders though, right?" she said, "Just want to make sure everyone knows who you belong to. And that you're all mine." She suddenly pulled you,so she could eat you out again. Glinda's hold was firm as she tugged you down, pulling you onto her face as she leaned back,letting out a low moan. "Only mine" she said between licks, her lips and tongue working over your core. "This is for me and me only. I don't want anyone else touching you. I don't want anyone else looking at you like this" You moaned her name,your hand gripping her hair as you moved your hips against her face.

"Just like that" she said, her voice a growl against your pussy. "My love. My beautiful wife. All mine" she mumbled between licks, her mouth not ceasing for even a moment, her head tilted up as if unable to get enough "Let me take care of you. Just let me do the work love. Don't move." she said, her tongue still working over your clit. You moaned loudly,throwing your head back. You knew everyone in the castle could hear you,but no one could say anything. Not to the Glinda the good,no one dared. The good witch of the north,everyone knew you were hers and didn't dare even if they could hear. Sometimes you tried to be quiet so as to not bother them but that only served to frustrate Glinda,thinking she wasn't pleasing you probably and she couldn't have that. Any time you attempted to be quiet she wouldn't stop until you were both exhausted. Making sure she satisfied you properly. The idea of trying to be quiet was soon forgotten.Glinda was quite possessive when it came to you, always wanting to remind you, and everyone else, who you belonged to. She never cared if people could hear what she was doing to you, in fact, she almost preferred it that way. She wanted people to hear, to know that you were hers. She wanted to make you moan loudly, crying out her name, so everyone could hear how well she took care of you. It didn't take too long before you felt a knot in your stomach. 

"G-Glinda,I'm so close"

"Cum for me. I want you to call out my name when you do. Let everyone hear "Let go love. Let me hear you." she said, her voice thick with desire. You arched your back as you let go,breathing heavily as you tried to calm down. Slowly trying to pull away from her face. Glinda continued holding onto your hips, her fingers tight on your skin, unwilling to let you move too far away. She took a moment to catch her breath, licking her lips as she looked up at you, a satisfied smirk on her face. "You look so beautiful when you come for me" she said, her voice still rough with desire. "And you're so loud, love. I love hearing you call my name when you cum”

"I know" you were still breathing heavily "and I know because no one looks me in the eye after we're done"

"They hear how loud you are, how you call my name. They know you're satisfied" She sat up, pulling you down to straddle her lap, her arms wrapping around your waist."That's because they know you're mine. They know I can take care of you. And they know what we do together."

"Now,let's get cleaned up and head down for breakfast" you tried to pull away. Glinda tugged you back, holding you in her lap, not ready to let you go just yet.

"Mmm, not yet. Can't we stay like this in bed a bit longer? I'm not ready to share you with everyone else just yet." she said, her arms still around your waist as she continued to hold you against her. "We can just stay here and have breakfast in bed?"

"That sounds good"

[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

[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

[boypied]

MISTER POPULAR.

pairings: fiyero tigelaar x male reader

summary: a love story blooms when fiyero does a simple act of kindness by helping a fellow peer out.

requested by: me ;)

mentions: strangers to friends, flirting.

[part two] [part three] - coming soon

He was the most sought-after guy at Shiz University. He had practically all the girls all over him aswell as the majority of the guys, whether they would willingly admit it or not. Because of his popularity status and your lack of time, he never really noticed you or even looked your way...atleast that is what you thought. You hadn't said one word to him during your first semester at Shiz but you had completely fallen head over hills for him, and you were now too far gone. So what if he was completely full of himself and possibly a bit of a snob? You could tell it was all just an act, but somehow no one else could cause they weren't looking at him for who he was they were looking at him for how he presented himself.

You were running through the Shiz University halls one fateful day as you woke up late, completely sleeping through your personalised ozian alarm clock. You are speeding through until you trip on someone's banana peel skidding across the floor and all your textbooks going flying. You swiftly get up off your face, and you begin picking up all of your books, praying that no one had seen this horrifically embarrassing moment. In the corner of your eye, you see someone strut over and kneel down to give you their hand as you manage to gather all of your textbooks off the floor. You take the kind gentlemen hand and you look up to thank him until you turn a bright shade of red when your eyes meet with Fiyero's.

"F-Fiy..." You try to stutter out, but his name won't leave your mouth. He shakes your hand. "Fiyero Tigelaar," he says confidently as he takes some of the textbooks from your grasp, "you do know we don't have class today.. right?" He says softly as he begins walking back to the dorm area of Shiz. You immediately begin following next to him, practically lost for words that he would even look your way, let alone help you out. He stops outside your dorm room and turns around to face you, "keys?" He asks in a soft tone your eyes meet with his for a moment until you break the gaze and hand him the keys. "Wait... how did you know -" You begin talking for a moment before Fiyero cuts you off, walking inside your bedroom and dropping your books down on your desk, causing a big thud.

This was just the beginning for you both. Over the course of a couple of weeks, Fiyero began to capture little cute moments of you with his Shiz camera that he stole from the photography section of the Univeristy. He still hadn't caught on to the fact that you were in love with him. You tried not to focus on how you felt about him cause simply that this was just enough. His acknowledging you was everything you ever needed. He had a surprise for you that had your stomach in knots thinking about what it could entail. He had his thick veiny hands on your shoulders as he had you blindfolded walking through some sort of grassy area. You could tell by the feeling of the tall grass against your legs.

The feeling of the grass against your legs stopped as you step forward once more, "are you ready" he whispers in your ear feeling his hot breath against your ear made your body shudder beneath his touch, he doesn't understand what he does to you. "I-Im ready," you stutter out nervously as Fiyero practically pulls you down onto some sort of velvety blanket. Light blesses your eyes as he unties the blindfold once it's finally dropped off your face. The first thing to grace your sight is Fiyero..his beautiful blue orbs, the ones that captured you originally were staring right into yours. A small smile on his face as he pulled away from your face, revealing a picnic he had set up for you, away from Shiz University.

Your eyes fill up with tears, and Fiyero immediately leans over the food to get closer to comfort you, "d-did I do something wrong?" He says in a worried tone, but you just laugh through your tears, shaking your head. "No! Not at all, just... no one has ever made me feel like this before." You stutter out as Fiyero's smile brightens you up again as he gently rubs your shoulder sitting down properly again. "I like this spot...it's so quiet and away," Fiyero says in a soft tone as he takes a strawberry and bites it. He looks out into the beautiful corn field ahead of us seeing the Scarecrow that watches over the crops. He brings the half eaten strawberry to your lips. "Take a bite," he says in a soft, quiet tone.

You lean forward slightly, taking a bite out of the same strawberry he has been eating, the mixture of the strawberry with a small portion of his spit was to die for. This is the closest you'll get to kissing him is what ran through your mind, the closest you'll get to tasting him. You swallow the strawberry after savouring the flavour for a strange amount of time but not enough for it to cause Fiyero to become concerned. He watches the way your face fills with pleasure as you swallow the strawberry. He softly nibbles his lip, watching you. You both ate like kings and packed up everything, "sad this is over," you say to him as you turn to face Fiyero. He turns his head slightly to look down, "Don't worry... who says I'm not planning another picnic as we speak." He says as confidence practically drips off him.

You begin walking through the tall, tall grass, feeling it brush against you both. The sun shines on you both perfectly as you stop to face it, this is the moments that are in all those romantic books you read. Golden hour covering your faces, amongst nature and a gentle breeze blowing your hair perfectly. You both lock eyes and Fiyero subconsciously puts his picnic basket on the floor without breaking the eye contact, the tension between you both would be able to be cut with a knife. Fiyero's hands connect to your cheeks as his thumb rubs your smooth supple skin he leans down slightly and connects your lips together.

The world was spinning, all the stars has aligned. You had never felt his fire inside of you before as Fiyero's lips connected to yours, you get up on your tiptoes and wrap your arms around his neck pulling his lips closer to yours. Your bodies pressing against one another, the kiss passionate and beautiful. Fiyero pulls away softly to meet your gaze as a strip of spit still connects your lips, a faint blush crosses over both your cheeks. "Fiyero..." You mumble out in a soft tone as you take his hands, a panic stretches visibly across his face as he pulls away "uh-" is all he can mutter out "sorry I've got to go!" He blurts out in a panic as he scoops up his basket and runs off through the tall grass back to Shiz University.

You eyes follow him as he runs off in a panic, the sun begins to set and the grass darkens as you stand there still frozen in shock about the whole thing. You had the best and first kiss of your life and then Fiyero panicked and ran off, you slowly walk back to Shiz, slumped over and shy you walk back to your dorm room to find that your door is already unlocked and open, your eyes widen as you slowly walk inside. "F-Fiyero?!" You say in shock as he sits there on your bed with tears streaming down his face, "I'm so sorry!" He repeats himself over and over again between sobs as he stands up to walk over to you, you pull him into your warm embrace "shh...it's okay" you whisper to him aswell as sweet nothings to try and calm him down.

Fiyero snuggles his face against your neck, leaning down to make sure he can. His tear soaked face soaked your neck, you slowly manage to sit you both down on the bed where you comfort him and he tells you why he ran off. "I wasn't expecting us to kiss... I didn't even know I liked- ... I can't say it" he says nervously and embarrassed, you softly smile at him as you take in what he's just said as you gently caress his arm, your hand gently wipes a tear from his cheek. "You don't need to label yourself, just...like who you like" you whisper softly to him as his eyes lighten up slightly and his sniffles quiet down. His hand gently caresses your cheek once again like when you were both in the tall grass, "y/n..." He says in a quiet voice "I...like you" he mumbles out softly as his thumb traces along your bottom lip.

"I've liked you for a while now Fiyero" you openly confess to him as he leans in and gently pecks his lips against yours, both pulling away and smiling softly at eachother. Fiyero pulls you into his warm embrace as he gently caresses your cheek and then running his hand through your hair. "Can we stay like this?" You say softly to him as your face is in his chest as he lays back against your bed, "yes...I'd like that" he say to you as he closes his eyes and enjoys knowing that you there for him, enjoying your warmth, enjoying your presence.

taglist ~ @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronasluvr @irlsamcarpenter

[femmeroll]

✦•·················• 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐳 •·················•✦

abby anderson x fem reader | wicked au

wicked has taken over my brain completely this week and i had this idea while watching gelphie edits on tiktok! i might make this a series if it does well 🤍

your arrival to shiz was nothing short of magical. the scenery is something out of a storybook, the buildings resemble the palace from your favorite fairytale.

you step off your boat, kissing your dear parents goodbye and stepping into the quad with as much courage as you could muster. it’s overwhelming, truly, being thrust into a new environment.

the illusive madame morrible takes center stage, introducing herself and welcoming us all.

“welcome, students, to shiz university. your roommate assignments are posted at each corner of the quad.”

you walk over to one of the signs, searching for your name. you hope whoever you’re paired with is nice enough. that’s what you had the most trouble with. you heard stories of girls being stuck with awful roommates at shiz. your finger trails the list until you spot your name.

y/n and abigail anderson

abigail. okay. a new best friend, perhaps? you wonder what she’s like. what’s her major? does she play sports? is she more introverted or extroverted?

the room is on the second floor. you carry your pink bags up the stairs, eyes landing on room 201. opening the door brings a bright smile to your face. it’s gorgeous. the dark wood and floral ceiling details make your heart swell. it’s perfect.

the door clicks, and your eyes widen.

at least five foot ten, skin adorned with the cutest freckles you’ve ever seen. her biceps strain the fabric of her shirt. she has a stoic expression on her face, practically unreadable.

“you must be abigail! i’m y/n, it’s great to meet you” you greet her, glossed lips perking up in a sweet smile.

“uh, yeah. that’s me. just abby” she replies awkwardly. she looks around and sees what you’ve already set up. pink desk, pink vanity, pink bedding and a closet already filled to the brim with frilly pink clothing.

she sighs, opening her bags and getting her side of the room ready in silence. she’s the complete opposite of you. no decorations apart from a framed picture of her and a middle aged man, assuming her father. her clothes are plain, a lot of grays and blacks.

“so…” you start, “what’s your major? i’m in sorcery.”

“same” she replies shortly. you find her disinterest with you a bit strange. she doesn’t even look at you as she speaks, focused completely on unpacking.

“are you taking oz history? i have it at eight tomorrow with dr. dillamond.”

“yeah, same” she says. “i’m a morning person, so i should be fine.”

you smile. even if it’s small, her adding to the conversation is worth something. you hope that she’ll warm up to you eventually. you’ve always been friendly, and maybe some of that will rub off on your new roommate.

the first week of school at shiz is decently successful. you make some friends, meet your professors, and your adjusting just fine without your parents. abby, however, is still an issue. she leaves early for your shared class, seemingly so she doesn’t have to walk with you. she eats in the dinning hall by herself, studies in the library alone, and never talks to you without being prompted. she doesn’t even interact with you in spells and sorcery club.

you’re so frustrated. why doesn’t she like you? is she just bad at making friends? you don’t understand.

on sunday evening, while abby is at the library, you get ready for bed. you slip on a silk, pink nightgown and matching pink slippers. you grab a pen and paper, and begin writing.

dearest mumsie and popsicle,

this week has been good, but my roommate is not fond of me. i’m trying to be friendly, but i thinks it’s safe to say that she detests me. i miss you both dearly, i can’t wait for oz day break!

love,

y/n

the door opens, and abby eyes you up. you look so pure in your little nightgown, holding your pink pen. it makes her skin crawl, her face flush, and her head reel. she has a hard time describing her feelings towards you. but she settles on one word.

loathing.

she loathes the fact that you occupy her thoughts. she loathes the fact that she can smell your sweet perfume in any room you were in before her. she loathes how social you are. she loathes how effortlessly pretty you are. with your stupid makeup and stupid pink dresses that barely reach your mid thigh. she loathes how kind your words are. loathes how every word you say sits in her head for hours. it drives her insane.

“hi, abby. how was your studying?”

“it was fine. i’m no good at history.”

you giggle. god, she loathes that adorable giggle too. “aren’t you from the emerald city? i assume it was shoved down your throat.”

“i guess so,” she sighs. “i kinda tuned it out. it being shoved down my throat had the opposite effect.”

“i could help you, you know. i’m good at history.”

abby huffs. why are you so insistent? she doesn’t need help. from you or for anyone. but when you look up at her with those precious eyes, her mouth opens before her brain even works.

“that’d be great.”

you internally cheer. finally, you’re getting somewhere!

“good! we can go to the library tomorrow.”

that next week, you and abby spend every day in the library. while the conversations are mostly about oz history, you learn a little bit more about abby. you learn that she likes to read old books. she plays desertball in her free time. she takes walks off campus often, with no destination. she just enjoys being outside.

around eight pm on friday night, you and abby are still in the library. it’s empty, besides the two of you and the librarian.

“you’re really improving, abs!” you smile, sneaking in a new nickname. “i think you’ll do great on monday’s quiz.”

there you go with those sweet words. the words that make abby’s stomach twist.

“a bunch of us are going down to the ozdust tonight. do you wanna go?”

“i don’t think so,” abby replies. “not really my scene.”

you pack up and start walking back, a bit disappointed.

“if you won’t come, will you at least help me pick a dress?”

“uh…i guess so.”

back in the dorm, you hold up three dresses. one is pink sequin, one is pink with with lace, and one is white with pink flowers.

“i think i should try them on, so you can see what they really look like.”

abby’s mouth goes dry the second you start taking your uniform off, face to face with your pink lace bra and matching panties.

that’s the final thing abby loathes.

how much you turn her on.

she doesn’t mean to look at you like that, but she just can’t help herself. every time she sees you in your tiny dresses, her eyes linger. when you come back from the communal showers with your pink silk robe, her brain short-circuits at the thought of you being completely nude underneath. it drives her insane.

“abby? what do you think of this dress?”

she snaps out of her thoughts, you’ve already put one of the dresses on. you look gorgeous, the dress highlights all your curves, the lace on the sleeves is absolutely stunning.

“u-um…it looks nice. really nice.”

you giggle. “i guess i’ll go with this one, then.”

abby sits on her bed while you get ready, curling your hair and applying your makeup. she feels sick. you’re so nice, you look so pretty, and now she has the imagine of you in nothing but a bra and panties burned into her brain. and you’re going out in that tight dress and abby feels like her head is gonna explode.

“i’ll be back before midnight. bye abby!”

she waves goodbye and collapses onto her pillow the second you leave.

she tries to calm down. she goes to the gym, she takes a freezing cold shower, she studies for her remedial sorcery class, but no amount of distractions will get rid of the picture of you in her head. she loathes this feeling. maybe she loathes how you make her feel, not you yourself.

she’s trying to sleep, but every time she closes her eyes she sees you. and then her imagination starts to go against her will.

“abby, will you take my dress off?”

“abby, you’re so muscular and strong.”

“abby, please kiss me.”

“abby, you make me feel so good-”

her thoughts are interrupted by the door swinging open. there you are, hair slightly frizzy but still as perfect as ever.

“hey abs? why are you still up?”

“couldn’t sleep. did you…have fun?” she asks

you pout. “not really. my friends left me to go hang out with a group of boys.”

“why didn’t you go with them?”

“they were all paired off. plus, i’m not really interested in flirting with boys.”

abby’s eyes widen.

“will you unzip my dress for me? i’m so sleepy.”

oh, this is horrible. abby feels like she’s gonna faint as she unzips your dress. this is exactly how her stupid fantasy started. the stupid fantasy where she gets to taste every inch of your sweet body.

“thanks, abs. you’re so sweet” you say. you change into your nightgown and turn back to face abby.

“i hope you’ll come out with me next time. it���d be much more fun with you.”

“yeah…maybe.”

you stand on your tiptoes to kiss her cheek, getting a pink, shiny mark on her face. “goodnight, abs.”

you crawl into bed, falling asleep immediately. abby is stilling standing there, jaw dropped.

she didn’t loathe that. not one bit.

i hope yall enjoyed! this is my first actual long fic. let me know if you want a part two 🤍🤍🤍

[ghcstpyre]

john wick x f!reader

cw: cis female reader, slight dom/sub dynamics, soft dom!jw, sub!reader, unprotected p in v, creampie, squirting, praise kink. MINORS BEGONE!

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i am in a Mood™️ and was inspired to try and write a quick piece. also yes I am procrastinating everything because of animal crossing so this is also to try and get back into the swing of writing lol. enjoy!

Your cheek squished against the flat, cool surface of the rich mahogany desk. Sometime after settling down in John's private library with your usual dark fantasy romance and John following not long after to have a nosey at what you'd been reading, you'd ended up bent over the nearest desk with your skirt yanked up and bunched around your waist and your panties pulled to the side. Thick fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, keeping your willing body right where he needed it. You were doing your best to be quiet, as per his orders, but it was becoming increasingly difficult with each delicious inch he pushed inside you.

“John…” You whined, wiggling your hips under his iron hold in an attempt to coax his cock further inside you.

This only had John doubling his grip on you. The fingers that held your hips dug in further, hard enough to bruise and leave little crimson crescent moons in your skin. The pain didn't deter you though. It only had that unsatisfied ache pulsing within your centre flaring up tenfold.

“Shush, baby,” John's voice was low and gravelly and sent a thrill rushing down your spine. Really, it was almost pathetic how much of an effect just his voice had on you. “I told you to be quiet. You sure you can do that for me?”

He leaned over, pressing his muscled slab of a body against your back to nip at your earlobe. You bit your lip in an attempt to stifle a whimper of need, just barely succeeding, and nodded.

“Good girl.”

John’s stubble grazed you and his long, dark hair tickled your skin as he pressed a tender kiss to your cheek and the weight of him lifted off of you. Whether it was out of mercy or pity - or both - John pushed the full length of his cock inside you in one swift motion. It took everything you had to not cry out in pleasure and pain as his tip kissed your cervix, filling you completely.

He watched as you struggled to keep any noises from escaping, his gaze heavy enough that you could practically feel it pinning you down to the desk just as effectively as his meaty hands. Seeing you in such a state of utter need while also being desperate to obey had his length throbbing inside you.

John set an unbearably slow pace, slow enough that it had you practically crawling out of your own skin. You so desperately wanted - no, needed him to to just fuck you, but instead it seemed he was determined to make sure you felt every vein and every inch, right up to the ridge where his swollen pink head met his shaft.

“Mmm, that's it, thaaaat's it.”

All you could do was lay there and take it without protest, however he wanted to give it to you. Your hands white knuckled the edge of the desk in front of you, serving as your anchor as you fought tooth and nail to keep any sounds of pleasure trapped behind your teeth. You knew that disobedience would result in punishment and you didn't really feel like being punished and degraded right now.

Right now, you wanted to be showered with praise. You wanted to be adored.

“You're being such a good girl for me. You want more?” He asked, relinquishing the vice grip he had on your hips in favour of smoothing those large, rough palms over the meat of your ass.

You didn't get a chance to nod. John was already parting your cheeks and chuckling deeply at the sight of his shaft, half buried in your soaking cunt and glistening with your slick arousal while the rest of it slowly dripped down your thighs.

“Look how wet you are for me. Of course you want more; you've already soaked my cock.”

With one hand he gripped one of your cheeks, while the other snaked up your spine to tangle in your hair. He pulled on the strands, forcing you to lift your head up and prop your upper body up on your elbows and forearms as his hips finally, finally picked up the pace.

If you weren't struggling to stay quiet before, you sure as hell were now. John knew how you liked to be rocked, what the perfect angle was to hit that sweet spot inside you that made you see stars. 

Tasting the tang of iron on your tongue you stopped biting your lip. You'd been so focused on keeping any noise at bay you hadn't even registered how hard your teeth were clamping down on the soft flesh while John pumped his huge cock in and out of you.

“You're doing so well for me baby, so well. Just a bit more and I'll - ngh - let you cum. I want to enjoy this sweet pussy a little longer.”

God, if his dick didn't push you over the edge then his words might just do it. Knowing that such a sweet, gentle man had the capacity to groan out words so filthy made that sick little part of you sing with glee.

The sounds of your rapid breaths mixed with his grunts of pleasure and skin slapping against skin bounced off the walls and echoed through the rows of bookcases filling John's library. Your legs began to shake as that familiar heat began coiling low in your abdomen. Sensing your building need, John let go of your hair and ass cheek to lean that glorious weight over you once again, propped up on one thick forearm while his other hand moved between your trembling legs to rub your neglected clit.

You keened into his heavenly touch and you couldn't stop a strangled little cry from escaping. You were quick to cut it off however, dropping your head to press your treacherous mouth into the inside of your elbow to muffle the noise. 

“That's my girl. You've been so good, do you want to cum? You want to cum for me? You want to be loud?” John's voice was practically dripping with honey as he whispered in your ear.

All you could do was lift your head again, look at him over your shoulder and nod pathetically while you rocked your hips back against him, meeting his thrusts.

“Cum.” He ordered, slamming into you with his fingers working relentlessly on your clit beneath you. “Cum on my cock baby. Scream for me.”

That was all the encouragement you needed.

Your cries and sobs of pleasure drowned out anything else as you came, your pussy gushing over his length and thighs and the wooden floor beneath your feet while you rode out the waves of your orgasm. John wasn't too far behind, pressing his chest flush against your back to suck a dark bruise into the crook of your neck while he thrusted into you one, two, three more times, and then filled you with his seed with a loud, long groan.

Both of you stayed like that for a short while, catching your breath and begging to sober up from the lust-addled haze you were in just moments ago. Eventually, John lifted his weight from you and pulled out, letting his cum leak from your entrance. He took a few moments to run his hands up and down your back, soothing you as you came down from the high.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice returning to its usual deep, gentle lilt.

Somehow you managed to stand up and turn around to face him on your shaky legs. John was quick to wrap his arms around you to keep you steady. You were all too grateful, immediately leaning your weight against him and letting out a content sigh.

“Yeah. More than okay, I feel amazing.” You smiled up at him, cheeks rosy with happiness, and then nuzzled your face into his broad chest.

John chuckled, the baritone sound rumbling from within. “Good.” With a swift motion he scooped you up into his arms to carry you bridal style towards the door to the library. “Because I've not quite had my fill of you just yet.”

divider by @/strangergraphics