#manicure nails Barking

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[introloves]

can we puh LEASE get a drabble or a one shot on that gojo undercut thing u posted im beggin on my hands AND knees 🙏🙏

you knew he wanted something from you. you could feel it in the way he folded his frame down against yours. borderline suffocating, a malformed pout stretched across his face while humming against your neck.

“what is it.” you wondered, tapping away on your laptop without so much as paying him any attention- wounding him further.

he scoffed, wondering how you could be so cruel considering the fact he was dying. his eyes painted against the sheen of gloss painted over your newly done nails.

pink.

they were pretty and pink, and oddly resembling a part of him you just loved sucking on. his ego absolutely through the roof with that fact. you hadn’t put up your usual fight when he suggested the color brushed over that acrylic.

“nothing.”

a lie.

he himself knew what he wanted, but he never gave it up easy. choosing instead to wander away from the back of the couch you were so prettily purchased on. walking to stand directly in-front of you- the laptop screen doing nothing to block the majority of his body. tight shirt tucked into sweats that were hung a little too low for your tastes to be casual.

eyebrow raising and huffing with the hint served on a silver platter before you. smiling knowingly while closing the device and setting it aside.

opening yourself up to receive the heavy weight of his body, an exclaimed huff of air leaving you when his arms braced your body. engulfing them with ease- face planting first into your chest and groaning like he’d just found nirvana.

lifting his face to really show up that pout. letting those arms wrapped around you leave the circumference of you to grab at your wrists and plant them firmly against the shortened hair laying against the lower part of his head.

giggling when you finally got the unspoken hint. taking those newly manicured nails and raking them through the translucent hair.

“nothing, huh?” you teased, finding it easy to follow along to his whims. it was him who had paid a pretty penny for your current set after all.

answered with only a groan- eyes shut tight while you traced your initials into the hair there.

a vein prominent along the curve of his jaw with the force of his clenching teeth, something inside of him purring with the fact that you were so well taken care of.

taken care of on his money, with the color of his cock head painted on your nails.

shamelessly moving his face to nestle further against you, hands grabbing at you with an intensity not in proportion to your actions. wondering why the singular act of you running the tips of your styled nails across the short hair of his undercut had him reacting like this.

“satoru?” you inquired when his breathing nearly heaved while he let the full weight of him lay against you. answered with another near incoherent hum.

“is this okay?” words giggled sounded just a little teasing- but you truly wondered if this was fine. you’d never seen his body react in this fashion- not unless he was buried deep inside of you.

and with that realization, it seemed like a veil had been pulled from your eyes. looking over the curve of his back, over the defined planes, and watching the shifting of his hips against the couch cushions.

glossy lips pulled into something that resembled a smile before bringing your nails back and running them over the surface with just a little more pressure. making sure to watch for any shift in his demeanor.

barking out a bell of a giggle when his body tensed, coils of muscle wound tight and with an intensity that would have scared anyone that wasn’t you.

“feels good?” you wondered, and he could only nod. looking up and marveling at the pretty face smiling down at him. choosing to stretch himself back up to his full height. looming over you with that same intensity highlighted seconds previous.

“yeah, that feels good baby.” satoru huffed, letting you see for yourself when those horrible, teasing, wonderful sweats detailed the throbbing outline of his cock.

“do you wanna feel good?” he wondered, not letting you answer before tugging down the front of his waistband. finding it funny how close in color the pink tip of his matched your fingernails.

[planetsage]

Hi babes I hope you're doing well, and I was wondering what's it like being nanami's ( obedient) stay at home wife 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Any whosies how was your day 🤞🏻🤞🏻

🕳️

starting my day w nanami i can tell it’s gonna be a good one🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ contains. f!reader, lifestyledom!nanami, sub!reader, housewife activities, somno, throat bulge, vibrator in public, spanking, bondage.

nanami holds you, his pretty little housewife, to very high expectations:

every morning, you wake up before the sun can get too intrusive, peak its warmed golden rays through the window and stir your husband awake, to make him breakfast. usually something light with a nice cup of coffee. you religiously wear his button downs with nothing underneath like a uniform. they completely envelop you in his musky scent. an earthy but warm aroma, reminiscent of a damp forest after a rain, sinking into every single pore of your body, reminding you of him with every breath.

after breakfast preparations are done, you slip back into bed to wake him. pulling out the softness of his cock to suckle on and let grow in your warm mouth. making sure he wakes up nicely so the rest of his day can go smoothly as well. “ahh good morning, honey — haahh, watch .. watch the teeth, love mmmhhmmm there you go, atta girl” his deep voice gravelly from just waking up, resonant, hums in your ears.

while he’s gone, you meticulously clean every nook and cranny of the house. he expects perfection from you, but only because he knows his lovely wife is capable. scents of fresh linen and polished wood mix and suffuse the loft perfectly. just how he likes it. you always cook dinner for him and sometimes when he comes home a little early he’ll come up from behind and slip a warm yet rough hand on the curve of your waist, “smells delicious love watcha makin’ hm?” kissing your neck before nibbling at the receptive skin. and you lean into his embrace, “your favorite”

but usually he comes back to you after dinner is already packed up and finished and you greet him at the door ready to submit. ready to please him because the stress of the workday is a physical entity that clings adding pounds to his shoulders. he pulls you into him as you work on the buttons of his shirt peeling away his clothes, “missed me?” you hum in agreeance running a freshly manicured set of nails per his black card down the hard planes of his body, “always. let me take care of you”

he loves to see you on your knees. barking out the command to watch you dig them into the ground underneath him. has to train your throat to take all of him because he’s just so big, plugging up your little mouth, stretching out your jaw making you gag and cry around him, “almost there baby cmon, know you can do it” rubbing a thumb at the bulge that pokes out your tight throat.

and teaches you how to take him, telling you “honey, arch .. arch s’more for me” guiding you with heavy hands, “uhuh theerree you go. perfect” before sliding his fat cock head against your clit.

in public, at business dinners, he’ll have you wear a little vibrator that he controls with his phone. setting it to a constant hum that has white take over your eyes, your heart pounding in your head. he loves watching you struggle to keep your composure in the presence of his higher ups. turning the little thing all the way up when introducing you to someone.

and he constantly praises you for your obedience. not just sexually but day to day, “you’ve been so helpful today baby, thank you” kissing you with a softness that makes him forget if he’s ever loved anyone else.

but when you disobey, which is rare, he makes sure to correct you. you’ll never learn if there isn’t any punishment involved, taking you over his knee to slap at your ass so hard he leaves his mark. telling you, “quiet” when you cry out and pull at the ropes he tied snug against the small of your wrists.

after though, he pulls you into his ribs, holding the hand inside you, and whispering sweet some things into your ear, “you did so well for me, baby. always do so good. i love you so much, forever, my everything” cupping your face with hands so gentle they feel scared.

all in all, you cater to his desires and he to yours with love.

[poetsblvd]

SKINCARE BABE ꪆৎ CL16

“How do you not get confused at all?” Charles mumbles in awe of your skincare collection, staring at the jars and tubes of different sizes that sit prettily in organised containers on the large vanity of your bathroom.

You shrug, pulling him lightly by his knuckles towards a seat facing your bathroom mirror. “You get used to it, now sit!”

He smiles softly taking a seat on the cushioned stool next to yours, nodding as you pull out an array of different types of face masks to try with him.

“I have so many fun ones we can do! There’s this clay mask, this gel one, that’s a sheet mask, and then this one peels off.” A delicately manicured finger pulls out the containers and thin boxes from cabinets and lays them down in front of him.

He doesn’t quite know what you’re saying at all, the words mostly fly over his head and he doesn’t understand much of what you’re saying, except that maybe the world has far too many face masks to choose from, but he knows he can listen to you prattle on for hours on end about sheet masks, gel under eye patches, everything really, and never tire.

You hum in concentration, still looking through drawers for anything you may be missing to show him, completely unaware of your boyfriends’ attention being solely on you rather than your skincare.

“You’re so beautiful, you know?” He murmurs smiling up at you.

Your hands pause in their movements, a pretty flush creeping up your cheeks and down your neck, only endearing you more to him.

His hands come to rub at his chest unconsciously still staring at you in awe, a soft gooey feeling coating him turning his eyes into hearts and making his brain go almost numb.

‘’Tellement jolie.” He smiles, large hands carefully sliding around your waist and pulling you closer to stand in front of him, chin resting on the pretty pink silk robe that coats your body. ( so pretty )

“Mon belle amour, comment ai-je eu autant de chance?” He wonders, laughing softly when your hands bashfully come up to cover your face, french glossy nails shining in the light. ( my beautiful love, how did i get so lucky? )

“Charlie!” You whine, dragging out his name in exasperation mumbling a shy I love you, that’s incredibly well received if his ear splitting grin and giggle are anything to go by.

He tugs you onto his lap, making sure you’re comfortable, hands still woven tightly around your waist, his head in the crook of your neck, he smears a soft kiss on your shoulders and nudges you to the face masks again.

“Tell me what face mask you like the most mon beau.” You pull out a small glass pot labeled ‘volcanic clay mask’ and he fights all his inner questions down when you start rattling off its benefits of how it minimises pores and helps target fine lines?

“Okay amour, will you put it on for me?” He smiles cheesily, pushing his face forward and turning you around in his hold.

“We have to push your hair back first love.” You pull out a brand new headband from the drawer next to you and present it to him, grinning at his loud bark of laughter at the lightning mcqueen skincare headband in front of of him.

“Oh my God!”

“You like it?” You question, happiness bubbling inside you.

Nodding eagerly he lets you slip it onto his head and push back his hair “Love it! Love you, so much, Je t’aime mon coeur.”

“Je t’aime aussi Cha.”

“Wow, I am going to be the coolest in the paddock, Lightning mcqueen headband? Max is going to be so jealous.”

love note , hi i hope you guys liked this!! i’m not the most pleased with this but i had the teeniest crumb of inspo to write and it’s 4:20 am (again) so please bear with me!! but i found the idea cute and i was struggling to put it into words, but it is what it is! also i have a bunch of reqs in my inbox that i promos i’ll get to, but i’m recovering from the most disgusting flu and have the most awful writers block, so we’ll go slow and steady!! anyways happy reading mwah xx

[dirtyvulture]

Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Sergeant!Reader

18+ only read at your own risk

Summary: Natasha calls you to her office for a performance evaluation.

Word count: 1414

AN: I’ve had this idea forever, but it wasn’t until I got some military requests (which I kind of tried to incorporate) that I finally sat down to write this. Enjoy!

Reader has a penis. No pronouns used.

"I want to see you in my office after briefing, Sergeant,” your superior, Natasha Romanoff, says to you when you pass her in the hallway.

“Yes, ma’am.” You dip your head in respect, not pausing in your rapid pace to get to your next location. You don’t think anything of her request, feeling your performance in your new role has gone smoothly so far. But you also knew that Romanoff had very high standards, and was one of the few who had been against your promotion initially.

You attend your meeting without issue, getting up and almost heading to the chow hall with your comrades, when you remember you’re supposed to see Staff Sergeant Romanoff first. You make a quick U-turn and head back to her office, knocking forcefully and announcing yourself.

“Sergeant Romanoff? It’s Sergeant Y/N like you requested.”

“Come in and close the door.”

You heed her instruction, finding her lounging behind her desk. She’s not in her uniform, making you feel strangely out of place and like you shouldn’t be seeing her like this. Instead, she’s wearing the standard issued workout shirt, with her last name stamped across her left breast. 

“What can I do for you, ma’am?” you ask, standing at attention and staring at the wall behind her.

“At ease,” she says, and you shift your legs into a shoulder-wide stance, holding your hands behind your back. But you still don’t make eye contact with her. 

“So tell me, Sergeant, how is training with the new recruits going?” Natasha asks. 

“Very well,” you answer.

“You think so?” Natasha leans forward and taps her perfectly-manicured nails along the wood of her desk. 

“Uh,” you hesitate, not sure what her intentions are now. “Yes. Yes, ma’am.”

“Because that’s not what I heard from Captain Rogers.”

You press your lips into a flat line, trying to hide your grimace. Captain Steve Rogers had been your other long-time adversary, and the other person alongside Romanoff who had opposed your promotion. You still weren’t sure why he was so hostile with you, perhaps he was jealous of your skills, or the fact that Romanoff gave you much more of her attention than him.

“Captain Rogers said three of your recruits failed their most recent written exam,” Romanoff goes on.

“A lot of recruits fail the written exams,” you defend. “So, I’m personally working with them to make sure they pass their retake--”

“Your fail rate needs to be zero, Sergeant Y/N,” Romanoff says through her teeth.

“That’s not completely in my control, ma’am--”

“Are you making excuses for your poor display of leadership?” Romanoff snaps.

“I, no--that’s not it at all--” 

“Atten-SHUN!” she barks suddenly and you scramble to snap your arms to your sides and your legs together. “Half-right, face!” You barely have time to process her demand before she’s yelling out another one. You turn your feet at a 45-degree angle to the right, facing the corner of her office now. “Front leaning rest position. MOVE!” 

It’s almost humiliating to be asked of such a request at your rank, but you know better than to argue. You drop to the floor into a pushup position, keeping your back perfectly straight, your arms almost locked out to hold yourself up. 

“Down!” she commands, and you bend your elbows until your chest almost touches the floor. “Up!”

“One, Sergeant Romanoff!” you respond, pushing yourself back into the resting position.

“Down. Up!”

“Two, Sergeant Romanoff!”

She keeps you going at a steady pace and you hardly notice her get up from behind her desk and stand next to her, her shadow casting over your body. By the 30th pushup, you feel the slight burn in your chest and arms, but you know you have the stamina to go well into the hundreds without faltering. However, you also know that Romanoff is one of the most notoriously punishing staff sergeants, so you don’t want to get ahead of yourself.

“Down. Up!”

“Fifty, Sergeant Romanoff,” your voice cracks and you shake your head to not think much of it.

“Tired yet, Sergeant Y/N?” Romanoff asks, squatting down to your level. The collar of your uniform is dampened with sweat and you feel it collecting on your forehead.

“No, ma’am!” you lie.

“Good. Because I don’t plan on stopping you anytime soon,” Romanoff says, and you feel your arms quiver in the slightest at her threat. “Down. Up!”

“Fifty-one, Sergeant Romanoff!” you grunt.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Natasha lie down flat on the floor and slide herself under you. She positions herself right underneath your crotch and embarrassingly, you feel yourself harden at the thought of your cock being so close to her face. 

“Sergeant?” you ask.

“I did not give you permission to speak,” Romanoff says, reaching up and pulling your tucked in shirt out of the waistband of your pants. She undoes a few of the buttons on the bottom, slipping her hand inside and running it across the soaked skin of your flexed abs. “I’ve always admired your dedication to physical fitness, Sergeant.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” you respond, your arms shaking as you try to keep yourself upright. 

Romanoff traces her fingers lower and unbuckles your belt, pulling down your zipper. Her fingers purposely brush over your clothed bulge and your body jolts. You suck in a breath, but now with all the blood in your body going down to your groin, your collapse is inevitable. 

“Down.”

You don’t know if you should keep your hips straight or arch them up, but your body has a mind of its own now and you lower yourself, your bulge bumping against Romanoff’s nose. She doesn’t give you the command to push back up, so you wait in that position, shaking from the effort. 

Romanoff peels down your boxers, freeing your hard cock, and licks at it tentatively. You grunt at the contact, now wanting to press down harder into her, but you resist.

“Up.”

You groan as you find the strength to push yourself away from her mouth. 

“Uh...fifty...fifty-two, Sergeant Romanoff.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve already lost count,” Romanoff teases, reaching up and wrapping her warm hand around you, pumping it slowly. Your thighs quiver from the stimulation and you feel pre-cum shuttle out of the tip. “Down.”

This time when you lower yourself, Romanoff guides you into her mouth. She takes almost your entire length, nestling your head in the back of her throat and your eyes roll in pleasure. 

Instead of telling you to go back up (since her mouth is full of your dick), she pushes against your thighs and you begrudgingly obey. 

“F-Fifty-three, Sergeant Romanoff,” you whimper when your cock is exposed to the cool air once again. All you want is to be buried down the warmth of her throat until you lose your load. 

“How many more do you think you can last?” Romanoff asks. “Two? Three?”

Privately, you don’t think you’ll last another one, with the fact that you’re on top of her but she’s in control of you making your head spin.

“Down.”

You moan in relief when she takes you again, this time sealing her lips around the base of your cock and sucking rhythmically. Your hips start to jerk on their own, breaking your perfect form, but you don’t care anymore and you can tell your sergeant doesn’t, either.

“Fuck, Sergeant,” you splutter, her tongue teasing the veins on your cock finally sending you over the edge without warning. Your thighs flex and your arms shake as you struggle to keep yourself from falling on top of Romanoff completely. Her throat milks you to swallow your entire load and she doesn’t stop until you’re begging to pull back out.

“You tasted better than I thought you would, Sergeant,” Romanoff says, sliding out from under you. “Recover.” You scramble to stand up, resuming the position of attention and humiliated to notice your now-limp cock hanging out of your pants. Your chest heaves from the exertion of over 50 pushups and you know Romanoff isn’t done with you yet. 

She moves to stand in front of you. She wipes her lips with the back of her hand and leans against you, putting her hand on your cock once more, massaging it back to hardness. “I hope you have good stamina here too,” she whispers, before pushing you onto her desk and riding you until neither of you can walk.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

Click here for Part 2!

[yawnderu]

Imagine Simon bringing Riley home and later finds his bimbo!gf painting Riley’s nails hot pink or something 😆 I just thought that’d be cute

“Angel.” Simon says with a small sigh, though he can't help the way the corners of his mouth tilt up despite himself, a small smile threatening to pull at his lips as he sees the big German shepherd sitting patiently on the floor, letting you paint his nails without even protesting, always tame and clearly enjoying the pampering from the nice lady he met today.

“C'mere, Si. Look.” You proudly hold Riley's paw up, showing Simon your work of art— perfectly manicured hot pink nails, matching yours. He crouches down in front of you, planting a small kiss on your forehead before his calloused hand goes to give the dog's rump a few dad parts.

“She bothering you?” He asks jokingly, only earning him a slap to the arm from you, and a loud bark from Riley.

Bimbo!Reader Masterlist

[taintedcigs]

thinking about beefy!bartender!eddie who has had ENOUGH of your teasing.

warnings: mean!eddie, degrading, LOTS of degrading, rough sx, p in v, unprotected probs, kinda dub-con but not really? (reader says t'much but doesn't mean it and eddie continues), nicknames, n just overall horniness, MINORS DNI.

first it started with you purposefully flirting with one of the regulars in front of him, knowing he couldn't do anything about it or the manager would be on his ass for beating up one of the regulars.

he swallowed it all down, throwing a glare at you, his hands forming into fists as he rolled his eyes at the back of his head to hold himself back to not punch the asshole who's hand was grazing your thigh.

but then you giggled and batted your lashes at him while he was busy trying to make a drink, he would usually love your little bratty flirty antics, but not when the bar was this busy. his breath hitched as your manicured nails brushed against his bicep, traveling further and further down his chest, grazing his soft tummy, giggling as you slowly made your way down to his crotch, nobody else could see it because of the bar, and once you got closer to his bulge that was straining against his pants, he dropped the shaker in his hands, making a mess and ruining everything.

"shit- fuckin' great!" he cursed through his gritted teeth, piercing gaze quick to turn on you. you pouted at him, all brattily and he shook his head.

without his deadly glare leaving you, "cover for me for ten minutes," he muttered toward his right, his co-worker groaned at the sight of the mess.

"dude, are you kiddin' me, the place is packed we can't-"

"ten minutes," he said through gritted teeth, almost like it was a warning.

and his possessive gaze on you remained, once the guy nodded with a sigh, eddie didn't take another second to grab your arm harshly, ignoring your bratty whines while he took you to the bathroom.

manhandling you roughly, he dragged you to the first stall, locking it before he quickly had you bending over, you whined and squirmed but he didn't care, smushing your cheek against the walls while he had you all sprawled for him.

your skirt flipped over your back, and he was quick to undo his belt and to free his hardened cock, pre-cum dribbled all over his hot tip. one of his calloused hands roughly grabbed you by your waist. other holding your neck, squeezing it just a little to have you in your place.

"y'think it's fuckin' funny to be a brat, huh?" he mocked, and you were quick to shake your head.

"no?" he chuckled, dark and mean, "then why were you actin' like such a desperate lil' slut out there, huh?" it wasn't a question and he didn't let you answer, his hold on you bruisingly tight, and it made you squirm excitedly.

he barked out a chuckle. "needed my attention, didn't you? needed me to fuck you dumb, isn't that right?" the best you could do was faintly nod, tummy filled with excitement and the need to have him fuck you, to feel his big cock stretch you out.

he tutted. "words, sweetheart, if you can be a desperate fuckin' brat, showin' off to everyone what's supposed to be mine, i think you can use that slutty little mouth of yours, hmm?"

"n-needed your attention, eds," you murmured quietly, earning an approving grin from him.

"that's right, baby, that's right... don't worry, i'll fuck the brat out of you, yea?" fingertips grazed against your slit, coaxing pathetic whines out of you.

two digit-fingers slipped inside of you without a warning, making you gasp. "teach you some fuckin' manners?"

"p-please," you whined. and that's all it took for him to remove his fingers and pound into you, slipping inside of your wet cunt easily, stretching you out with one deep thrust.

he enjoyed your mewls, pathetic and lewd, encouraging him to rut himself deeper inside of you, feeling your tight cunt stretch on his big veiny cock. your walls struggling to accommodate his size.

"that's it sweetheart, take it, just like that." low grunts push past his gritted teeth, hips working into you at a fast pace.

you're crying out, voice muffled by your moans, as your pussy twitches around him. with a gruff, "what, is this too fuckin' much for the little brat?" he spits, tone filled with venom and desire.

you nod sheepishly, it isn't too much, but you enjoy him being mean, going all out, fucking you till you see stars. and eddie knows this, he fucking knows you like the back of his hand.

with a grin, his thrusts pick up, rougher, meaner, cock fully inside of you.

"too bad, sweetheart, you wanted attention? you're gettin' all my fuckin' attention."

[yazmarina]

radio check

for the love circuit series

—ignored by his driver academy, driving a shit car, and a dnf before turn one. zak has enough to deal with and you are the perfect outlet.

zak o'sullivan (f2) x fem!race engineer reader

warnings/notes: smut, unprotected sex, semi-clothed sex, workplace romance, creampie, hair pulling, slight biting

a/n: starting a series when i have another ongoing? more likely than you think

"Zak, wait—"

The driver brushes past you as you attempt to stop him, wanting to have a brief word with him before he goes back to the F2 paddock. An exasperated huff escapes you as his figure quickly saunters down the pitlane, ignoring you.

You try your best to understand. His race was over before he even got past the first turn.

"Zak! At least tell me what happened." You try once more, catching up to him. You glance back at the pit wall where Victor's race engineer and Sébastien are looking on worriedly. You flash them a thumbs up and make a mental note to shoot them a text that you'll keep Zak in line long enough for him to at least toughen out the debrief.

"Shouldn't you already know what happened? You're the engineer," Zak deadpans, avoiding your eyes and weaving through the people in the pitlane.

You draw in a long breath and grasp at his arm, making sure to dig your perfectly manicured nails into his skin through his suit. Just to prove a point. Mustering all your might, you maneuver him off the actual pit straight and toward the back of the garages.

No words are uttered as the two of you walk further and further away from the track, both of you aware that there is much to be said, about each other, to each other, to the team.

You drop his arm and try to shuffle ahead, wanting nothing more than to get to the truck quickly so no one has to see the daggers you're staring at each other.

You yank the truck door open as you walk up to it. You step aside, turning to Zak who's giving you a less-than-pleased expression.

"Get in," you practically bark. Zak makes no protest and steps in, you following close behind.

The door closes and Zak lets out a frustrated sigh. He sinks into the small couch, hunched over and head hanging low.

"What's going on?" You ask, standing over him like a mother admonishing a child. He doesn't say anything and makes no move to look at you.

You let out your own breath and rip the headset off from around your neck, dropping it onto the small coffee table situated in front of the couch. You study your initials etched on the headset for a moment, reminding you that you are his engineer, you are his guidance. You start to think if maybe you've failed tremendously at just that.

"Zak," you begin, cautious in your approach. "Did you know you jumped the start? You've never made these mistakes this year. What changed?"

For the first time since you got to the truck, Zak raises his head and looks straight at you, expression stony.

"You're really going to ask me that?" Zak returns almost petulantly.

A scoff escapes you. "I'm asking because I want to help you."

Zak suddenly stands, startling you as he crowds into your space. He's so much taller and he practically looms over you. You can feel the anger simmering off him.

"Tell me. Where's Franco right now?" Zak asks plainly.

It clicks in your head faster than you can anticipate. Of course. It's about that.

"Zak, that's out of your control." You attempt to take on an appeasing tone. "If Williams wants to rush your fellow rookie up into Formula 1, that's their choice."

"I was one of those choices, _______," Zak insists, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.

You give him a long, hard stare. There's a crease between his eyebrows, his lips drawn together tightly. He's breathing hard and a vein pulses in his neck. Normally, you'd allow yourself to admire just how handsome he is right before or after a race. You're not blind and you're not going to deny yourself the simple pleasure of admitting that, yes, Zak is attractive. And he's kind, oh so kind, thanking the team, thanking you even when his race weekends don't always turn out the best.

But right now, with everything that went down in the sprint, it hardly seems appropriate to daydream of such things.

"I don't want to burden you with advice and solutions when you clearly need something else right now," you begin. "Why don't you just take a minute and we'll talk later."

Zak doesn't seem pleased with this. He lets out a sound of disbelief, turning his back to you and pacing around the cramped space.

You get it. He wants to fight. He wants to prove a point.

"Zak," you say a litle more sternly. "You can't let yourself make these mistakes just because you're mad at your driver academy."

"I know that!" Zak bellows. You flinch, taking a step back. He's never raised his voice at you, or at all, in the time that you've known him.

He curses under his breath, pressing his fingers into his eyes. "I'm sorry," he says. "I don't know what's happening to me,"

A pinch of sympathy blooms in your chest and you approach him, arm outstretched. You lay a reassuring hand on his arm, squeezing gently. Zak exhales, dropping his hand from his face to look at you.

You've seen this look before. And you're not going to lie and say you haven't looked at Zak. As in really looked, eyes wandering where a race engineer's shouldn't, especially not towards their assigned driver. Perhaps a large factor in this is that you're close in age, something you never really see in these situations, with most engineers having a full decade on their drivers or at least a few years.

It's not ideal and it's not allowed.

"You will get there. Properly. In your own time," you say. "I'm sorry if I can't get you out of whatever you're feeling right now."

Zak steps closer and you already know what it is he's asking. You wind your arms around his torso, letting him engulf you in a hug, his face burying itself in your shoulder.

You haven't hugged like this since Monaco but even that was different. That was a happy hug, a shared victory. This just feels like you trying to keep him together, holding literal pieces of him in your hands so he doesn't implode on himself.

"Can you...can you stay here for a bit?" Zak asks against your shirt and your resolve is immediately softened. You run a hand up and down his back as if to soothe him.

"Sure," you agree, pulling away. You hold Zak at arm's length, observing him.

He avoids your eyes still and you can see his jaw clench.

So he's still upset.

"Zak."

His eyes meet yours and the air shifts. You're still holding onto his arms, anchoring him to you. Zak glances down at your lips and a small gasp escapes you.

Surely, he isn't thinking of that...?

"What do you need?" You ask.

It's an innocent question. Zak is in pain, though not physically, but you know he must be seeking comfort somehow. But there's a hidden hope underneath your offer. That maybe he'd say he needs you, more than a driver needs their race engineer. It's a stupid kind of hope, bordering on delusion, but you hold on to it the same.

"I don't know," Zak says. This perplexes you for a moment but then you realize that he must not know or at least doesn't want to voice out what he really means.

You can feel it in the way his hands hover awkwardly at your sides.

You reach up and take hold of one side of his face. Zak's eyes immediately close and he inhales. His jaw ticks yet again.

"Let me," you whisper, letting your other hand settle on his neck, just above his race suit collar.

There's a flash of confusion in Zak's eyes as he opens them and you think that maybe you've read it wrong, Maybe you're crossing a line that's not worth it at all.

But Zak's own hands settle on your waist and before you can second guess yourself even more, you lean up, nearly on your toes as you meet Zak's lips with your own.

The spark is instant; Zak pulls you flush against him and immediately licks into your mouth, groaning when you so easily let him. Your fingers fumble at the zip of his suit, yanking it down as you attempt to unclothe him as fast as you can.

"Bathroom," you urge, pushing him off before tugging him further into the back of the truck.

It's barely wide enough to fit you both but you figure that doing it in the open, where all the team members gather, would be too much. You're not that shameless.

The bathroom door slams shut behind Zak and he wastes no time pressing you against the sink, the counter digging against your tailbone. All discomfort is forgotten, however, when Zak pushes a knee between your legs.

"You really know...how to...make me feel better," Zak manages between heavy breaths and wet kisses against your neck. You suppress a moan, unwilling to let him know just how much this is affecting you.

"Of course," you breathe out. "I know you."

Zak returns to your lips, hands slipping beneath your ART uniform, fingers expertly unhooking your bra from behind. You whimper when you feel it come undone, Zak already groping you beneath the fabric.

"How far?" Zak asks, voice quiet, hands stopping their movements.

"What?" You ask in a daze, the question not quite registering.

"How far will you let me...," Zak trails off. His eyes seem clearer now, as if it's dawned on him what the situation is.

He's about to fuck his race engineer.

"All the way, if you want," comes your immediate reply. And you mean it. You want it.

Zak's eyes zero in on yours. "Yeah?"

You nod. "Yeah."

There is no hesitation in the way he discards his race suit and bottom fireproofs, elbows banging against the door and the wall as he tries to rid himself of all the barriers between you and him. You're pressed up against him as you undo your own pants, shimmying out of it and your underwear at record speed.

A startled cry escapes you as you feel yourself lift off the ground but you're immediately appeased when you feel Zak's firm arms beneath your thighs, gently letting you down on the sink countertop. You laugh in disbelief and for the first time this weekend, you see Zak crack a genuine smile before he leans in to retake your lips in his.

You shift around uncomfortably as the cold tile presses against your bare skin but you halt all movements and thoughts when you feel Zak press two fingers against your aching core.

He rubs at your wetness slowly, almost lazy in the way he swipes between your folds. You shiver under his touch, forehead resting against the side of his neck.

"You don't have to be so careful," you quip, smiling as you tangle your fingers into his hair. Zak's laugh rumbles through and you pull back just enough to look at him.

"But I need my race engineer," Zak teases back with a grin. "I don't wanna hurt her too much."

You burst out laughing, circling your arms around his neck. A few seconds pass by with the two of you just staring, taking a quiet moment to let it all sink in.

"You won't," comes your reassurance. "I can take it."

Zak's bottom lip slips between his teeth and his eyes darken at your encouragement. Your heart pounds as he pries your legs apart, reaching down to angle himself with your entrance.

You grip the counter below you as you lean back against the mirror, mewling, Zak's length pushing into you. You catch Zak glance down at where you're joined and he quickly curses, averting his eyes, as if the mere sight of his cock sheathed inside you would push him to the brink.

"Please," is all it takes from you for Zak to slam his hips against yours. Over and over, he pulls out and pushes back in, the sounds obscene in the cramped space of the bathroom.

He braces himself against the same mirror, which you now notice has fogged up. Your legs lock around Zak's waist, caging him in against you. It's effortless, how he holds you in place, pinning you down with his weight, his other hand gripping at your hip. Your eyes roll back into your head as Zak loses all inhibition, fucking you as if it's his last time doing so.

Zak glances at the mirror and trains his eyes on your face right after. He takes hold of your jaw, imploring you to look at him.

"Stand up," Zak commands, already pulling out. The abrupt stop jars you but you obey nonetheless, shakily sliding off the counter.

You gasp as Zak quickly turns you, pressing your front into the sink. He reaches over and wipes the condensation gathered on the mirror. Your reflection stares back at you, Zak's broad figure a contrast from behind.

Almost instinctively, you bend over, watching the mirror in fascination, as if mesmerized at the image playing out.

"Good girl," Zak praises, slipping back inside without any resistance. Your mouth falls open as he continues, both his hands now keeping you in place by the waist.

You practically collapse against the sink with how hard Zak is going, your knuckles turning white as you hold on to the edges of the countertop.

Zak doesn't seem pleased with this and you're abruptly yanked back, the sting in your scalp eliciting a moan from you. He twists his hand even more in your hair, forcing your head back.

"Zak!" You cry out, body nearly going limp as you're overwhelmed from all sides. He's still slamming into you, his arm now circling your torso to keep you still, his other hand pulling at your hair.

"Needed this," Zak mutters straight into your ear. "Needed you."

You whimper, forcing yourself to look in the mirror, meeting Zak's eyes through the foggy reflection.

"You have me. You can have me. Always."

Zak grunts, your words seemingly spurring him on as he loses all control now, the rhythm he set up gone as he chases his release.

"How do I get you there? Tell me what you need," Zak urges through gritted teeth. You guide his hand down to your core and he understands.

Both of you forget to suppress your noises, using each other to reach the edge. Zak's fingertips toy with your clit and your walls clench down tighter and tighter around his cock. You can vaguely hear Zak repeating your name over and over through the blood rushing in your ears and you're pretty sure your mouth is moving of its own accord, cursing and begging.

And all at once, Zak stills with a groan, teeth digging into the fabric of your shirt, almost painful as he finishes inside you. You grind against his hand, determined to get there too, and eventually your vision whites out and you cum all over Zak's length.

It takes a full minute for both of you to recover, you slumping over the sink, your whole body aching and stinging in different places. Zak rests his head on your shoulder from behind, his arms cradling you almost reverently.

You straighten up as best as you can, peering over your shoulder. Zak pulls out and quickly reaches over to yank a few sheets of tissue off the roll next to the sink. He hands them to you and you accept it with a giggle, wiping yourself clean.

You discard the soiled tissues before turning to face Zak fully. His hair is stuck up in different directions and his eyes are watery but so much brighter than an hour ago. He grins, leaning in.

He kisses you, all soft and bashful. You pull away, cradling his face in your hands.

"Better?" You ask, running your thumb over his cheekbone. Zak smiles, holding your hand in place as he leans into your palm. He kisses the inside of your wrist and you feel your heart come to a stop.

"Thank you," Zak whispers. You nod, offering another smile.

"Maybe we can debrief on our own over dinner later?" Zak hurriedly adds, eyebrows raised and tone hopeful.

"Sure," you answer before you can even really think it through.

[oneforthemunny]

something new |rockstar!eddie munson x nepobaby!reader|

prompt: eddie takes you to your first drive-in movie during the fall.

still on my fall shit and not sorry about it lol. had to do one for my faves. timeline wise- established dating but not yet engaged, still secret. very fluffy and sweet and i'm so in love with them. mentions to reader's shitty parents but the sweetest fluff <3

“Should I get in the back?” You chewed on your manicured nail, ducking lower and lower into the seat of the old van, hoping the headlights from the car behind you wouldn’t give you away- reveal your little secret. 

“What?” Eddie’s brows pinched in confusion. 

“No, don’t do that. They’ll think we’re tryna sneak people in. They won’t let us in. Trust me.” He snorted lightly. “Used to do that all the time. If this old guy’s still workin’ up here, he’ll definitely remember me. Think I’m still up to no good.” 

“You are still up to no good.” You grinned. 

“Yeah? You think so?” Eddie’s lips curled in a half smirk, the vans breaks groaning as he let off them, rolling towards the ticket booth. “Thought I was being pretty good takin’ you here. Can’t believe you’ve never been to a drive-in, baby.” He cranked the window down, the cool autumn air filling the space quickly. 

“You really think Victor and Tana would take me to a drive-in?” You scoffed lightly, ignoring the bitter pang of hurt in your heart at the mention of your parents, the crueling reminder of a less than happy childhood. 

“C’mon, I didn’t have any parents around and I still went.” Eddie leaned his head back against the seat, looking over at you with lidded eyes. “Didn’t even go to South Bay Six? Even I’ve been there.” 

“Oh?” You scoffed, brows lifting in a snarl of disgust. “Yeah? What girl did you go there with, Ed? Claudia?” 

Eddie rolled his eyes. “What makes you think I took a girl there? Used to come here by myself all the time.” Eddie threw a hand out towards the Hawkins drive-in, busier than usual for ‘Slasher Saturday’. 

Eddie had told you about it, pillow talking while you shared a cigarette, chatted about Halloween and swapped bittersweet childhood memories. He’d told you about the Hawkins’ drive-in, the Slasher Saturdays they always did in October. 

“I’ve always wanted to go to a drive-in.” You had hummed, stretching against the cool silk sheets with a content sigh. “Always thought it was so romantic.” 

Eddie blinked at you, the cigarette burning between his fingers. “You’ve never been before? Never? To a drive-in?” You had shook your head, that sheepish look took over your features, shy and sweet and always had Eddie’s heart soaring. He flew you out the next morning to Indiana. 

Your chest filled with warm heat at the thought, swelling with love that still felt surreal. 

The old man at the window definitely recognized Eddie, but not as the lead of Corroded Coffin. Oh no, as the same curly haired kid that had been there before, that had caused trouble there before. “You two enjoy the show,” The old man gruffed, glaring at Eddie with disdain. “And make sure you keep your clothes on. I’d hate to have to throw you out again.” He grunted, leaving Eddie barking out a laugh as he pulled away. 

“Thought you came here alone?” You scoffed, feigning annoyance. “So you have brought girls here?” 

“I didn’t say I came alone here all the time.” Eddie grinned, eyes lighting up in that mischievous way that had your stomach flipping with excitement. “But, don’t worry about it, alright? You’re the hottest girl I’ve ever brought here.” 

You snorted, rolling your eyes as you bit back a grin. His hand found your thigh, squeezing it lightly as he backed into a park easily. A secluded spot in the back, not the best for the showing, but away from the potential wandering eyes who might see the two of you. Who might tip off the paparazzi and ruin your secret oasis of a relationship with Eddie. 

An hour and six blankets later, Eddie had you pinned to the floor of the van, hips slotted over yours, lips hungrily pulling at yours. A wonderfully sloppy makeout that felt juvenile and thrilling all at once. 

“Part of the experience,” Eddie muttered, halfway through the opening scene, his hand sliding over your shoulders pulling you close to him. 

Your clothes were still on, a rarity for the both of you, your jean clad legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer and closer into you. Hips rockings against each other, the slightest bit of friction that had you groaning into this kiss, muffled by the final girl screams that echoed throughout the lot. 

“This what you wanted?” Eddie whispered, lips kiss bitten and bruised from yours, his nose sliding over yours. “Everything you thought it would be?” 

“Yeah,” You sighed airily, a giggle slipping from your lips. “Can see why you like them so much. It’s pretty fun.” Your hands balled and grabbed at the material of his shirt, pulling him back to you, lips back on yours. 

The rough knock on the window came twenty minutes later, the same man from the ticket box barking at the two of you to “knock it off” and “grow up”. You and Eddie held your giggles until he walked off, snickering into each other like school girls. 

“Guess we better knock it off.” Eddie muttered, craning his neck to look out the back window. “We can finish later. It’s about to get to the good part anyways.” 

You snorted lightly, settling against his shoulder under the blankets. “Is this what you did? Makeout until the good part came on?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie grinned, chin ducking down to look at you. “I mean, these kinda movies always start out slow anyways. Gotta do something until it’s the good part.” 

You giggled, rolling your eyes, leaning into his shoulder. Eddie reached into the console behind him, pulling out a bag of candy corn, tearing it open with his teeth. You cringed at the handful he ate, lips curled in disgust. 

“What? Best fuckin’ Halloween candy.” Eddie shrugged through a mouthful. “You ever had any?”

“No,” You shook your head. “It just… I don’t know about corn flavored candy, that sounds disgusting.” 

Eddie laughed, nearly choking on the colorful candy. “Baby, are you serious?” He grinned lightly at you. “It’s not corn flavored. It’s just… I don’t even know, I think it’s just sugar. It just looks like corn. Try some.” He tilted the bag towards you, snickering at your snarled lip. 

You hesitated, looking from the bag back to him. “Are you lying to me?” 

“No, promise.” Eddie squeezed your hip lightly, affectionately rubbing the bare skin above your jeans. “Just try one.” 

You reached in the plastic bag, plucking out the candy corn carefully, eyeing it skeptically before placing it in your mouth. Sugar was a good way to describe it, because you were sure it was pure sugar. You chewed it carefully, swallowing the chewy candy. 

“How was it?” Eddie grinned, eyes lit with excitement. 

“Very sweet.” You muttered. “Didn't taste like corn.” 

Eddie howled in laughter, head tipped back against the cracked seats, shaking the van with his laughs. You rolled your eyes, settling back into the blankets, pulling them around you to stop from the frigid chill of the night, the glow from the screen cast over your features. Eddie thought you looked positively angelic. Hollywood’s princess, here in Hawkins, embracing the culture, embracing a part of him. 

He could barely focus on the movie, his favorite part of the film, mind racing with words and feelings of affection that had his heart skipping. Eddie hoped you couldn’t feel it. He’d take you to a pumpkin patch, a real one tomorrow, to do a hayride and maze and all the cheesy activities people did in the fall- all the ones you had never got to do. 

Eddie called his assistant early the next morning, before you were awake, when the sun had just barely begun to rise over Lover’s Lake. Cigarette and coffee in hand, he sat in the quiet of the fall morning, speaking softly into the receiver. 

When you both returned to Los Angeles the following Thursday, Eddie left you early Friday morning, still jet lagged and exhausted from the week, and drove an hour and a half to the jewelers. He had no doubt in his mind, after that trip, that he wanted that forever. Wanted it forever, with you, and he decided right then and there- at the drive in, that he’d spend forever with you. 

[superhaught]

Yes, Princess (Chapter Two)

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warnings: FILTH, smut, 18+ mdni, dom!Regina, sub!Reader, afab transmasc reader, little boy, puppy play, collaring, boot licking, bondage, wax play, face sitting, scratching, tickling, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, strap on sex

Lawd have mercy on mine and y'alls souls Jesus. This was very fun. You have been warned.

Word Count: 3900, Part 2/?

Part 1

Regina always gets what she wants, and in this case, its using all of her new surprises on her favorite pet.

Explicit content below!

A few days later, Regina invited you over to her place in the same manner as before, for the same treatment. 

You met her at her car and she took you home like usual, though, the time between these two visits was much shorter than usual. It was typical for Regina to take a couple weeks at a time before asking for you again, but not this time. 

Regina held your hand as she led you up the stairs to her bedroom but then she stopped in front of her door and faced you, “I have quite a few surprises for you inside…”

“Surprises, Princess?” 

“Mmhmm,” she nodded, a cheeky grin plastered on her face, “lots of exciting new toys and other things that we haven’t tried together yet. I want to be... more intense with you, tonight…”

Regina knew what all of your limits were inside and out, so you trusted that she wouldn’t ask you to do anything you wouldn’t be comfortable with. But that didn’t mean that Regina wouldn’t push you. 

You nodded your head at the blonde. 

“Words.” She commanded. 

“Yes, Princess. That sounds good.” 

Regina smiled brightly, pleased by your answer, before she took your hand again and ushered you into her bedroom. 

The bed was adorned with an array of new things. 

Regina had equipped the bed with a rigging system that would strap each of your limbs to the four corners of the bed. The cuffs at the end of each strap were black leather with fur linings. 

There was a matching black leather collar with a leash laid out on the bed. 

Beside it, a brand new, all-black strap-on and harness. 

Her bedside table had a blindfold and a body safe candle on it, waiting. 

Regina watched you as your eyes scanned the room and took everything in. She smiled as your cheeks flushed and your eyes widened. 

She trailed a manicured nail down the center of your back as she whispered, “what do you think, baby? This is all for you…” 

“Wow…” was all you could manage. 

“I have some pretty serious plans for you tonight, baby boy. Do you trust me to take good care of you?” 

“Absolutely, Princess.” 

“I want you on your knees for me, baby boy.”

You nodded eagerly and knelt down on Regina’s floor at her feet. 

She gave you a pleased smile and held your chin with her forefinger and thumb, tilting your head up to look at her, “you’re so pretty when you’re on your knees, little boy.”

“Thank you, Princess.” 

Regina walked over to her bed and picked up the collar and leash, “this is the first step, baby. You’re going to be mine, understand?”

You nodded.

She examined the collar in her hands with a smirk on her face, and then ran her hand along the length of the leash before swinging it around lightly and dangling it in front of you teasingly. 

“Take your clothes off for me, puppy.” 

A switch in your brain flipped and you moaned at her words. You nodded your head and obediently took your clothing off, not wasting time, until you were naked and still on your knees in front of Regina’s feet. 

“Be a good boy. All fours, now.” 

You dropped your hands to the ground and lowered yourself to all fours and looked up at the tall blonde with wide eyes. You felt compelled to pant or even whimper or bark even though she hadn’t asked that of you, but you remained silent for the time being.

“Very good, pup… very good. Do you want this?” She held up the collar in her hands and you nodded.

“Show me how excited you are.” 

You nodded more eagerly and let your tongue fall out of your mouth, panting excitedly for her. 

“That’s a good boy. I’m going to put that pretty tongue of yours to use tonight.” Regina smiled and knelt down slightly as she opened up the collar and brought it to your neck, “I hope you’re ready for this, pet. I’m not going to go easy on you.” 

You nodded again. You understood and you were okay. 

Regina maneuvered around the ends of your curly hair at the nape of your neck and slid the collar around until she clicked it into place behind you. The collar was tight but not too tight, the blonde slid two fingers between the collar and your skin to check and she seemed pleased with herself. She then grasped the handled end of the leash in her hand and stood up, giving a sudden tug to the leash that made you lurch forward a bit. 

You yelped on instinct and the corner of Regina’s mouth lifted into a smile when she saw your eyes roll back slightly and heard the faintest whine of pleasure fall from your lips. 

A few minutes past where Regina just examined you collared, on all fours, crouched on her bedroom floor. Knees and palms pressed into her lush rug. Your ass on full display in the air. You, looking up at her expectantly. 

“I just want one more thing before I take you to bed, puppy.” 

You nodded. 

“I want you to lick my boots clean for me, okay baby? Say ‘yes, Princess’ if you understand.” 

Your eyes widened at her words and you glanced down at her feet. She was wearing brand new Docs. You looked back up at her and nodded your ear again, “yes, Princess.” 

You crawled forward and she shortened the leash accordingly, holding you tightly in place. You hesitantly leaned forward and pressed your lips to her leg first, kissing her over her tights, before looking up to meet her eyes, wordlessly confirming if you were doing what she wanted. 

Regina smiled, unbothered. 

You kissed your way down each of her legs, and then started to lick the leather of her boots reverently. 

You stared up at her while you dragged your tongue over her boots and she nodded in encouragement, reaching a hand down to grab a fistful of your hair and tugging you a little by both your hair and the leash, making you fall forward slightly so that you were licking the toe of her boot rather than just the upper. 

“Good puppy,” she praised.

You whined in response and then she pulled on the leash to bring your attention back to her. 

“You did so well. I want you on the bed now, come on.” 

Regina pulled the leash and brought you to standing then wiped some spit off of your bottom lip and chin with her thumb. She giggled slightly before putting her thumb in her mouth and sucking it clean while you could only watch the display and stare at her in awe. 

She guided you onto the bed and laid you on your back, then took her time strapping your wrists and ankles into the leather cuffs at each corner of the bed so that your body was spread eagle for her. 

Regina kept hold of your leash, winding it up around her palm as she crawled onto the bed and straddled your waist. She tightened the leash so that there was no slack at all and then she leaned down and captured your lips in a bruising kiss that brought a throaty moan out of you. 

Regina smirked and bit your bottom lip before pulling away and unclasping the leash from the collar. 

You watched as Regina slowly took off her shirt while straddling you and tossed the garment aside, revealing a black lace bralette that didn’t actually hide anything from view. 

Your jaw dropped open and you stared at her gorgeous body in awe as she dismounted you for a moment to remove her boots and the black pleated skirt with a built-in garter belt that she wore. She slowly slid the fabric down her thighs and then kicked it off so that she was only left in her bra, matching panties, and tights. 

You didn’t know what to do other than just watch her adoringly. She smiled at you and then kissed you again before whispering in your ear, “I wanted to look pretty for you, little one.” 

You moaned, “you’re so pretty, Princess…” 

“Mmm…” she cooed, kissing below your ear, “thank you for saying so…” She sat back up and reached behind her head to tie her hair into a bun. 

You watched her with wide eyes and whispered, “I love you…” 

Regina shook her head lightly, “shh… I don’t want to hear that right now sweetheart.” She finished tying her hair back and then grabbed the blindfold and body safe candle off of her nightstand. 

“Let me out this on you, baby.” 

You nodded and lifted your head off the pillow slightly  and then Regina slipped the blindfold on you, covering your eyes and bathing your vision in total blackness. 

“Good boy. Not too tight?” 

You shook your head, “no, Princess. It’s perfect.” 

Regina lightly scratched her nails down your sternum and made you shiver and then you heard her rustle in her nightstand again then she clicked a lighter on. 

A few seconds later, a hot drip of candle wax landed on your chest. Your body jolted at the sensation and you heard Regina chuckle, but then the pads of her fingers were rubbing the hot liquid into your skin like massage oil and it felt incredible. 

It continued like this for a while. Regina used the candle to drip the hot wax onto your body. She let it pool in the cavern at the base of your sternum, dropped it in a line down your stomach and over your hip bones, dripped it all over your arms and your nipples. The liquid was hot but not to the point of burning. You could tell that it was reddening your skin but it felt more like a spa treatment than something torturous. Regina took breaks to rub the oil into your skin, pausing to tease you by pinching your nipples between her fingers. 

You’d groan and buck your hips and she’d only pinch harder, or twist them, or bring her mouth down and suck on them fleetingly before rubbing your already throbbing clit with her thumb for just an agonizing second then returning to her ministrations with the candle. 

“My poor pup…” Regina teased, “you’re already such a mess for me…” she finished rubbing oil on your chest for the last time and then slid her hand down between your legs and parted your folds with her fingers, gathering up your arousal onto her middle finger. 

“Fuck… Princess… please…” you whined. 

Regina tutted at you, “I don’t think so little pup, puppies don’t get what they want just from whining do they?” 

You whimpered and bit your lip and then shook your head, not daring to try to speak so you wouldn’t whine more. 

“I think you’re going to make me feel good now, okay my baby boy?” 

You nodded. 

Regina fussed around for a moment but made no effort to remove your blindfold. You then felt her readjust her position so that she was sitting herself on your chest and without much warning, she brought her now bare pussy right down onto your mouth and began riding your face. 

You moaned and gave her your tongue. The vibration from your moan made Regina roll her hips and she breathed out, “oh fuck… that’s so good.” 

Being strapped down, you could barely move yourself. You simply had to allow Regina to take what she wanted from you. 

She grabbed onto your hair with both fists and slid her cunt up and down on your tongue, alternating between thrusting herself onto your tongue and rubbing her clit on it hard. She took time to build herself up and then she was just grinding her clit on your tongue until she finally came and drenched the lower half of your face and neck in her cum. 

Regina continued to ride you while her orgasm subsided and you both moaned together before she got off of you and left you alone for a moment while she cleaned herself off. 

Your chest heaved as you caught your breath and then Regina came back to your side and raked her fingernails down your body again. Your body arched off the bed following her scratches and then she pressed kisses onto your raw skin.

Regina got back into the bed and sat down between your legs. She quietly and methodically began to scratch her nails all over your body. You squirmed and twitched, trying to writhe away from the overwhelming sensation. 

But Regina only rewarded your attempts at escape by tickling you with her fingers. She tickled your ribs and your hip bones and your armpits and behind your knees and you couldn’t help but both laugh and squeal while you fought against the restraints and tried to avoid her touch. 

Regina chuckled at you and only continued to tease you with scratching and tickles. To your horror, she eventually brought this treatment down between your legs and she raked her nails over your inner thighs and then she started to rub the swollen bundle of nerves with teasing flicks, “oh puppy, your cute little tdick is so needy…” 

You groaned and thrashed on the bed more as she continued to overstimulate you without any sign of relenting. She pressed her thumb right onto the head of your enlarged clit and scratched her opposite index finger down the centerline of your abdomen. She was not at all intent on making you cum with her touches. 

Your hips bucked off of the bed and you cried out, “fuck fuck fuck!” 

“Shhh shh shh… you’re such a needy little pup…”

You felt the beginnings of tears forming in your eyes from every nerve in your body firing from Regina’s touch, but the tears didn’t actually want to come. You were struggling to even cry and your eyes just burned from trapped emotion.

“Princess… Princess, please…” you could barely manage your words. You gasped between pathetic whimpers, “please, Princess… I can’t…” 

“You can’t? You can’t, what, baby? You can’t take it?” 

You shook your head violently and kept trying to wriggle free to no avail. 

“Such a naughty puppy… I’m so surprised baby, you were so good before, but puppies that whine and beg don’t get rewards do they?” Regina emphasized her question with more teasing flicks on your clit that only made everything worse. 

You were finally pushed over the edge and you began to sob. Your tears were absorbed by the blindfold but you cried out for Regina, “fuck oh fuck! Princess please I can’t I can’t I can’t please please please let me!” 

“Oh is my little one crying finally?” 

You couldn’t say words, you just nodded and continued to cry, helplessly begging for release. 

“My poor, poor puppy,” Regina condescended. 

“Please…” you whimpered, bucking your hips against her hand again and trying your hardest to squeeze your thighs shut, anything for relief, but were unsuccessful in doing so. 

“Okay, puppy… I’ll help now.”

You nearly fell apart at just the words of her acquiescing to your needs but quickly, Regina’s face was between your thighs and she was lovingly sucking your raw and overstimulated bottom growth into her mouth. 

You sighed from the much needed relief but you couldn’t stop crying even as she was giving you what you needed. Your movements were erratic and Regina had to grab your hips forcefully to calm you. 

She sucked your clit between her lips like she was blowing it and she moaned against you, the vibration of her humming sending you over your peak almost instantly. Regina danced her tongue on the sensitive head and you came harder than you ever had.

You could feel Regina’s smile between your legs while she lapped up all of your cum that spilled out of you and down your thighs and you both cried and laughed through the entirety of your climax and the come down, until you finally collapsed in Regina’s duvet. 

Your muscles shook while Regina continued to clean you up with slow licks of her tongue. She kissed your thighs and whispered softly, “there ya go, baby boy… there there…” 

Some time passed where Regina removed your blindfold and gently unlocked the cuffs around your wrists and ankles. In spite of their softness, you had still worn bright red marks into your skin from fighting the restraints, which Regina took the time to kiss while you stretched out and drank some cold water.

You were laying on your side, Regina playing with the curls of your hair, when she whispered, “are you up for more?” 

“More?” You repeated, “that wasn’t it?” 

Regina smirked and shook her head, “no honey, we haven’t even used the new strap yet.” 

Your eyes widened.

“If you can’t, we don’t-“ 

“No, I want to.” 

Regina met your eyes, “are you sure, baby?”

“I’m sure. I want to do everything you had planned.” 

Regina smiled and kissed your lips, then she stood up and put on the new harness and strap on. 

You watched and waited patiently. 

Regina put a condom on the toy and then sat down on the bed behind you. 

“Okay baby boy, I need you to straddle me but face away from me. Understand?” 

You understood and nodded then positioned yourself straddling her thighs. 

Regina then reattached the leash to your collar and held it loosely around her wrist. 

You looked back at her over your shoulder and saw Regina spit onto her hand then bring her wet fingers to your sex and ensured that you were well-lubricated before she wet the toy with a few strokes of her hand as well. 

“Ready, pup?” 

You nodded. 

“Words.”

“Yes, Princess. I’m ready.” 

“Good boy,” Regina grabbed your hips and you reached between your legs to grasp the dildo and you worked together to guide the dick to your entrance. 

You sat down on it slowly, letting yourself adjust to it a bit at a time. 

Regina grabbed your hips hard and helped control how quickly you lowered yourself, until you were fully sat on the toy. 

You let your head fall back and you moaned, then you started to ride Regina’s cock. 

She held onto you and was quick to take over the movement, suddenly thrusting her hips upward to control the strap on and using her hands on your hips to keep you steady. 

“Oh holy fuck!” You gasped, supporting yourself with your hands on her thighs. 

Regina spanked your ass and thrust into you harder, “that’s my good boy, you ride me so good…” 

You felt Regina tighten her grip on the leash and then she yanked on it, pulling your head and making you arch your back while she fucked into you. 

“You look so fucking cute with my cock in you, baby.” 

“Oh god…” you breathed, “oh god, fuck fuck I’m already so close…”

“That’s a good boy, come for me again…” Regina encouraged. She thrust even harder and you reached between your own legs to touch your clit and it only took a second for you to come again. 

You both moaned and Regina slowed her movements. You eventually pulled off of her and moved onto your hands and knees, getting ready to lie down on the bed, but Regina stopped you from laying down and she positioned herself behind you. 

“I’m not done, little one,” Regina asserted.

“Fuck, okay…” 

Regina spit onto her hand again and rewet the strap on and then she was pushing inside you again in doggy. 

“Fuuuuckk… oh my god…” you groaned and dropped down to your elbows. 

Regina started fucking you quick and hard, not bothering with build up. She leaned over you and got close to your ear to tell you, “this time I’m really not going to stop until you beg me to. I’m gonna fuck you until you really can’t take it anymore.” 

“Holy shit…” you nodded your head as best as you could and Regina pounded into you, her thighs smacked against your ass and the silicone cock filled you and filled Regina’s room with the sounds of fast, wet thrusts. 

Your moans were uncontrollable and you were quickly reduced to a blubbering mess. You came once from just the fucking within a couple minutes, then Regina started rubbing your dick while fucking you and you came again, without even coming down from the first. 

You were crying again from how overwhelming it was, but it felt so good. 

“Fuck oh fuck fuck, Regina!” You didn’t even register the slip, nor would you have cared. 

Regina didn’t seem to, either, “that’s good baby, fuck you feel so good…” 

“Oh my god… fuck keep fucking me!” You came again. And again. Tears were streaming down your face. Your entire body was shaking. You didn’t want to stop. 

Regina started fucking you even harder somehow and her movements got more erratic as she approached her own orgasm, “oh fuck, baby boy… I’m gonna come… I’m gonna come!” 

“Come in me, Regina… please…” 

She groaned and thrust all the way into you two or three more times and then she came with a loud moan.

You moaned and cried out, coming with her, you didn’t know what number you were on now. It didn’t matter. 

Regina didn’t stop there, though. Her movements slowed for a second but then she just kept fucking you. 

“Oh god, Gina…” 

“Hmm, baby?”

“I… I… ohh…” 

“Hard to talk, sweetheart?” 

You gave something akin to a nod of your head. The top half of your body was completely collapsed into the bed at this point. You would have to use your words to communicate to Regina to stop. 

“Gina, baby… I’m done…” you whined. 

She kept thrusting, “you’re done?” 

You moaned.

“How about just one more for me, baby… can you give me one more?” 

“Ohhh… fuck…”

Regina increased her pace one last time and touched your clit again. You were so sensitive and overstimulated that it took no time at all and you came once more with as much of a moan as you could muster in your spent state. 

Even then, Regina still didn’t stop. You could hardly believe how she could keep going. 

You were a sobbing, drooling mess at this point. You tried to speak again and failed, “G-… Gina…” 

“Not good enough…” she retorted. 

You groaned then gasped, “Gina… Princess, please stop… please I can’t take anymore… please, honey…” 

Regina slowed and leaned down and kissed your sweat-drenched back. She took her time but eventually pulled out of you completely then quickly removed the harness and wrapped you up in her arms in the bed, cuddling beside you. 

“Holy fuck…” you mumbled, your face buried into the crook of her neck. 

Regina hummed happily. The blonde rubbed your back lovingly and pressed kisses to the top of your head.

“Gina…”

“Hmm?” 

“Can I say it now?” 

“Say what, baby?” 

“That I love you?” 

Regina giggled lightly, “you can say it, sweetheart.” 

You smiled, keeping your eyes closed and your body entwined with Regina’s, “I love you, Regina…” 

She kissed your head, and then your temple, and then your cheek, then whispered quietly, “I love you, too.”

Next Chapter

[ummichowdhurymua]

Professional Make up Artist in Essex: Best Beauty service in East London at best price in London, To know more visit the link: https://bit.ly/40R89KB

[thebearer]

i feel like donna would be like “that’s who you’re gonna end up with? someone who posts on instagram, and you’re a michelin chef?” and carmen just barks back

“so you do all the work… and she takes a picture and posts it? wow, so you’re gonna make all the money, do all the work, and she’s just gonna spend it, carmy? i’m sorry i just… I don’t get it.” donna slurs, the table eerily quiet. “you know, claire she’s-she’s got a real job. she’s a doctor and she’d make money. not just lean on you.”

“hey, mom, let’s not do this.” sugar is incredibly uncomfortable. carmen’s got that look in his eyes that he might kill donna, you look like you want to crawl under the table and die, and everyone else looks like they’d rather be anywhere else.

“it’s a really hard job, d. harder than it looks, and she’s real good at it. the best. knows the algorithms and how to do everything, and-“ richie is trying too. he’s gotten used to helping sugar out, being her right hand man.

“-taking a picture?” donna scoffs, wine splashing over the lip of her glass, her nasally laugh mocking you from down the table. “you’re telling me she’s,” a long, red manicured nail is pointed in your direction. “making mortgage payments on that new, big house by taking a photo? please, you can’t make that much-”

carmen shoves the table, plates and silverware clanging furiously at the movement. “alright, sugar, I tried. i fuckin’ tried, and-and I told you if she started this shit I was done.” carmen sneers. “and she makes more than me, sometimes, alright? when we were gettin’ started, her ‘pictures’ kept our lights on. she works which is more than you can say, ma. when’s the last time you had a listing, huh?“

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄: Hate Sex w/ Ex!Fratboy!Bucky Barnes (ft. sorority sister!reader

a/n: i cannot begin to tell you how fucking aware i am that this is late and i'm almost falling behind but ohmygoodness i've been literally exhausted for the past two days. i'm lowkey pissed about it because i was super excited to write for this day and actually writing for it felt like i was dragging my feet behind me.

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

Fuck James Buchanan Barnes.

He’s a piece of shit, an asshole, a womanizer, a player, a liar and a dirty fucking cheat, but goddamn it, why do you always find yourself here? 

You hated him – no – you do hate him! 

Even people that hate their exes like the fact that they catch their eye, that they can’t find it within themselves to look away from them, that in some way, some capacity, they will always want them, that they will always be theirs regardless of whoever they get with in the future. 

Bucky knew you’d come to the party at his frat, and you knew that you would go with every intention of fucking with him. To everyone else, you were just bitter exes - that needed to fuck out whatever was going on between the two of you - so when you showed up in a dress that fell just below your ass, your friends figured you were just trying to get laid; but no one knew that this was his favorite color on you, let alone his favorite dress.

You just so happened to pick it out, that’s all! Couldn’t a girl want to pamper herself nowadays?

You fake laughed at whatever the dude that had fallen right into your trap said, a manicured hand lifting up to slap him on his arm gently, making extra sure to graze the naked skin of his arm that was exposed by his muscle tee with your acrylics. You fluttered your eyelashes at him innocently, a faux sweet smile on your face. 

Subconsciously, you knew that you wanted Bucky to take you home, or to his room, or to wherever the fuck he wanted too – but you’d never admit that to yourself. You couldn’t. He couldn’t win this game of cat and mouse, not without a fight, and you just so happened to love playing dirty.

You could feel Bucky’s stare burning into your back. Your bodycon dress was completely strapless, leaving little to nothing to the imagination as your breasts threatened to spill out over the top. You weren’t a sorority slut by any means, one of your sister’s had that covered, but still, you were going to go home with somebody tonight.

Even if he was an idiot.

“That’s so funny, Aaron.” Aaron laughed nervously, cheeks blooming a deep red as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s uh- actually Eric.” Right. “Sorry.” You giggled, raising the neck of your beer as if it was some sort of explanation for the fact that you don’t really give a shit about what his name is and more about what’s in his pants.

Before you could speak, your eyes raised up to meet Bucky’s, who was standing across the pull, two ladies vying for his attention as he puffed on what looked like a blunt. It looked like he was in the same boat that you were; that he didn’t care about what they were saying, only you.

Biting your lip, you turned your gaze back to Aaron – Eric. 

You knew you’d have to up the ante in order to get him to move, because right now you know he thinks that you’re all bark no bite. You’ll show him.

“You know…” You made a finger walking motion up his arm, the tips of your nails now slightly digging into his skin. “How about we get out of here?” You fluttered your eyelashes up at him. “It’s too crowded… and loud.” Your hand finally rested on his upper bicep, giving it a soft squeeze. The poor man’s jaw was slightly dropped, as if he was a fish out of water. 

“Yeah, yeah, I-” He attempted to say, but when you raised your gaze again, Bucky was gone, and you had forced yourself to bite back a wolfish smile because you knew he was on the move somewhere.

“What’s goin’ on over here?” Bucky’s voice sounded as he approached the both of you from behind. Eric looked as if he had seen a ghost, but the poor boy had no idea that he was just a pawn in your game. 

“Oh- uh- nothin’ man, just talking.” You raised a brow at Eric’s shaky excuse. Internally, you rolled your eyes. What a pussy. 

“Really?” Bucky asked in amusement, not even bothering to hide the face splitting smirk that contorted his face. “Yep.” You responded, popping the ‘p’ as you took the blunt from him. You wrapped your mouth around it, your gaze almost challenging him as you sucked, pulling the smoke into your lungs. It burned but it was worth it to see the tick in his jaw and the slight twitch in his eye at the sight of your pursed lips.

“I think that I um- I’m just gonna go.” Eric squeaked awkwardly. All lustful intention slipped away from him as he grasped his hand and shook it. From the poor man’s wince you can tell that Bucky put a little bit too much force in his shake.

When the random guy slipped away you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Real smooth.” You commented. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” 

“I’m talking about you trying to act like you weren’t trying to fuck me right in front of him.” The way you said it was as if it was the most casual thing on earth. “I almost forgot how possessive you get when you know someone else wants me.” You tilted your chin up to finally face him, and you caught yourself from almost stumbling over your words at the primal look on his face. 

You did it. You won this game fair - enough - and square.

“Too bad my pussy doesn’t belong to you anymore, isn’t it, James?”

“Shut the fuck up.” He growled, taking an intimidating step towards you. But you weren’t scared, if anything you were turned on. 

“Don’t get mad at me because I’m right, even though anger does look good on you.” 

You went to step away, but he was quick to snatch your wrist, “Were not done talkin’.” You made a noncommittal attempt to tug yourself free. “I am.” 

The tension between the two of you sizzled like oil on a pan, beckoning, calling for someone to do something, anything, to appease the burning desire that was coiling in Bucky and yours’ guts.

“If you’re not done then I guess we should find somewhere quiet to talk then.” 

He didn’t give you the chance to offer a rebuttal because he was already dragging you away from the prying eyes of party goers, his frat brothers and your sorority sisters. You already had an idea of where he was taking you, pushing the both of you through the sea of people that flooded the house, most of them drunk or high or a hammered off of a little bit of everything that was rotating throughout the home.

When he’d found his room, he was grateful that no one had decided to fuck in it, because that was what he was supposed to be doing.

He let your body be the thing that slammed the door shut with a loud bang!

He kissed you harshly, his left hand grasped your chin while the other hiked a full leg over his hip, grinding his erection onto your needy core.

“Fuck!” You gasped, your back arching off the wood as you broke the kiss. The friction of his jeans against your pulsing clit sent you staggering for balance, your inhibitions clouding your mind when you allowed your self-control to completely flee from within you.

“Bucky baby.” You whined. The man practically preened at the sound of his old nickname, his humping turning harder and calculated. He clearly had an end goal in mind. 

“What were you sayin’ about this pussy not bein’ mine no more?” He quipped. “I still mean it.” You gasped. He growled, but nonetheless, that didn’t deter him from shoving his face in the corner of your neck and biting down on the skin. Hard.

You yelped at the pain, but it shot down straight to your stimulated core. The bite only drew you closer to your embarrassingly fast approaching orgasm. It had been so long since you’d been touched by him, and God, you missed his hands, his voice, his touch, his smell, his cock.

“‘M close, Buck, ‘m so close.” You murmured, waving your fingers through his brunette hair and tugging on the strands. You felt a burning bitterness well-up in your gut when the tips of your fingers brushed against the hard plastic of the silver crown on top of his head. You sneakily took it off before throwing it somewhere in his room.

“No need to be jealous, honey.” He teased with a smirk on his face. “Shut— shut up!” Your rebuttal only came out as a whine. You could feel the cloth of your laced thong stick to your wet labia with every grind on his jeans – which also now sported a dark spot on his pants.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You swore as you came. “There you go. That’s it, good girl.” Small whimpers slipped out of you as he worked you into overstimulation. 

“God,” He groaned. “I’ve gotta fuck you.”

Guiding his face up to yours, you brushed your lips together, holding your intense eye contact with one another. “Then fuck me, Buck. I think you have a point to prove.” He leaned forward just a bit to nip at your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth. 

“Fuckin’ naughty.” Bucky grunted, forcing your leg down from his hip for a moment to snatch your panties down your legs. Your hands shot out to his belt buckle, slipping the leather out of it and unbuttoning his jeans. It was your turn to shove his pants down and grab his hard on, his hot cock pulsing in your hand.

The air in the back of his throat caught at the feeling of your stroking, “God– turn around.” You did as he said and felt his large, calloused hands pushing up your dress.

“Gonna make sure everyone at this fuckin’ party knows you’re mine.” He says lowly, pulling down his underwear to his mid-thigh and prodding his tip at your entrance. “Even if you fuckin’ hate me.” With that, he entered you, splitting you in half on his cock.

You cried out at the feeling, false nails scratching at the surface of his door in an attempt to keep yourself steady. “Feels so good, Buck. So, so, good.” You mewled, your hips pushing out on their own accord to try and take your own pleasure. “Always so fuckin’ greedy.” He chided. His hands grabbed at the fat of your ass, pulling out of you only to slam back in, sending you up the wall.

Your bodies moved in a familiar symphony that had been sung numerous times before, as they hadn’t forgotten one another, they were just simply waiting for the both of you to press play.

His dick repeatedly prodded at your g-spot, the friction sending you into overdrive as you moaned, and cried and begged. “God, I think ‘m gonna cum, Buck!” You exclaimed, walls repeatedly clenching down on him. “That’s right, doll. ‘Fuckin squeeze me.” He bellowed, his own thrusts growing sloppy as he neared his end.

Your noises raised in pitch before your arms gave out and you collapsed forward, instead opting to cross your arms and rest your head on your forearms.

“Gonna cum in this sweet pussy, sweetheart.” He said through gritted teeth, his thrusting growing sloppy and uncoordinated.

“Do it, fuck, I-” Your words died out, your body wracking with shivers as your second orgasm of the night overtook you. 

It wasn’t long before you felt his seed warm your insides, painting your womb white as your eyesight went white, and your pussy sucked him up for all he’s worth.

Your chests heaved.

“I still hate you.” You huffed.

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less.” He said through a smile.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @zippertwat @hallecarey1 @zippertwat @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl

[hyperfixationsporfavor]

Hi there, I saw your post. Will it be possible for you to write one for Sukuna x female reader? Older mean husband Sukuna maybe. Age around 40. Young wife female age probably around 28. Modern setting. Thank you.

Author's Note: Hey guys! I really liked this ask and I'm considering expanding this into a full fic. For this version of Sukuna I'm envisioning his true form minus his extra arms. Hope you guys like it. :)

Sukuna turned 40 this year. 

And that came with a lot of complications ranging from his joints becoming more stiff to having to get up to piss in the middle of the night more often.

The biggest complication he currently had to deal with was you. He glanced over to see you leaning back in your seat, looking at the buildings the car whizzed past. Your manicured nails tapped agitatedly against your designer handbag. 

Spoiled brat. 

~

You were just trying to keep your head above water. 

Being the wife of Ryomen Sukuna came with a plethora of troubles. 

Poor little rich girl. 

Your husband would embarrass and demean you both in public and private and you’d swear you’d leave him. 

But then he’d pull you back in. 

Drowning you in designer clothes, decorating you with fine jewels. Whisking you away to a private villa in the south of France or buying a gourmet restaurant you had mentioned liking so you could eat there whenever your heart desired. You couldn’t part with the lifestyle Ryomen provided for you. 

He was a businessman with a gruff exterior and while you secretly hoped he would shed it for you, you knew it was wishful thinking.

~

When the chauffeur pulled up in front of your house you told him thank you, giving him a sweet smile. A smile that your husband immediately noticed. He followed you out of the car and inside. The maid stood by the door. 

“Welcome home-”

“Get out,” he barked.  

The old woman did as she was told, knowing the man of the house was best left alone when he was in a mood. 

You shot him a glare which he only returned tenfold. 

“Do you have to be such a brute?” you hissed. 

“I pay her salary,” he griped, storming past you and up the stairs.

You sighed and trailed behind him.

You were only 28, but you felt so much older. 

~

The End. 

[slytherizz]

Playing God - Auror!Sebastian x Dark!MC

Tags/Warnings: 18+ | Non-Con | explicit sexual content | Dark!MC | Polyjuice Sex

All tags can be found on Ao3

Word count: 6.4k

Summary: Decorated Auror, Sebastian Sallow had not anticipated how his life would diverge so sharply from the woman he once loved, the most wanted and notorious witch in Britain. Or how their paths would continue to cross - their fates still bound together.

A/N This fic has been living in my WIPs for about 6 months...I wanted to reverse the dynamic of my longer fic with Sebastian being the Auror this time and in doing such explore some darker themes. Short multi-chapter that will probably end up being three chapters at most.

She was pretty enough he supposed in a homely sort of way. 

Petite, with neat shoulder-length hair that brushed against narrow shoulders and, a soft bow to her overly thin top lip. But her dress was old-fashioned, a severe high-neck buttoned almost to her chin, ruffled layers of her underskirts impractical and lumpy. Layers upon layers, of an unflattering shade of yellow washed out her otherwise pleasant features. 

Compared to the other witches that would frequent such a seedy establishment with their low necklines and light skirts, she would be considered dowdy. 

If it wasn't for her eyes. Keen and alert as if beneath the sheep-like exterior lurked something dangerous. He most likely would have overlooked her too.

To even the keenest observer it wouldn't look like Sebastian had any particular tastes when it came to women or men. Much to his displeasure, the qualities that drew him in were rarely mere aesthetic. 

Barked laughter like an ill-tempered hound. The smell of mallowsweet. Aromatic and earthy. Teeth pressed lightly into a bottom lip like they held all the cards in a game no one else knew they were playing. Until they spread the winning hand. Smile so wide it unnerved, bore too many teeth.

Tonight, it was keen and dangerous eyes that reminded him of her. 

They shared no other similarities and from what Sebastian could discern from her well-manicured nails, and unblemished skin, bar a pale line around her finger where he supposed an engagement ring would usually sit - this was no fighter. 

This was a proper young lady - who had wandered onto the wrong side of town looking for a sensible amount of trouble as her wedding day, most likely to some equally wellbred suitor, loomed over her like a dark cloud.

As if Sebastian were screaming his thoughts at her across the crowded tavern, those sharp eyes flicked their attention to him. Raked over the thinning patches of his civilian cloak, the shadow across his jaw, the dark circles under his eyes he'd given up glamouring. After years they were as much a staple of his face as the freckles on his nose. 

The marks of a man who hadn't enough time to shave let alone visit a tailor, a man who would scarcely have enough time to ask her too many intrusive questions. 

She smiled. Jarring was the only way Sebastian could describe how her face seemed to split horizontally across its centre. Neither half quite belonged to the other. The demure and polite curl of her lips was offset by the razor-edged scrutiny of her darkened gaze. Predatory. Hungry. In a way that made his mouth go dry and cool sweat beads on the back of his neck.

Ice clinked against the side of his glass as Sebastian knocked back the remaining dregs of whiskey. Disguising the way his lip twitched at the corners under the weight of her eyes. Amber liquid burned his throat was nothing compared to the heat prickling across his skin.

Sebastian held up two fingers to indicate to the Barmaid over the raucous patrons of the pub. She placed a second glass on the bar filling them both with a more than generous pour. 

"Cheers," Sebastian said, placing the coins into her hand, a little extra for her trouble as he always did. The barmaid smiled brightly, flushed and preening, over a few extra sickles as if he'd declared some great love for her. Though he supposed generosity was not a trait of many that frequented the Ogre's Arms. She leaned a little further over the bar than was strictly necessary, her fingers linger too long against his palm as he hands over his sickles. 

Sebastian did not miss the way that the strangers' eyes tracked the interaction. As swift and deliberately as he had been trained to be with every motion, he slipped his hand from the barmaid's grasp deftly hooking his fingers into the rim of the grotesquely full tumblers as he spun on his heels.

Whatever the poor girl had been about to say faltered in her throat. Crackling out of life like a dying gramophone. He really should have felt some sympathy for the poor girl. 

She'd made her fondness for him quite obvious over the years. Despite how Sebastian would sidle out the door with what must seem like any witch but her. Too worried about any kind of arrangement that would ask for more than he was willing, or able, to give. Nor did he wish to find a new hole to drown himself in. 

And regretfully - her gentle honeyed voice and hopeful doe eyes that delivered longing glances had never stirred anything inside of Sebastian. As much as on some nights he wished they would. 

Sebastian weaved through the sparse gathering around the bar of the more rambunctious patrons. Turning a blind eye, to the corner booth and the two witches poorly disguising their face under their dramatic hoods, exchanging money, a rather suspicious-looking sack at their feet which gave a periodic shudder and what looked like spines protruding from the burlap. It may be his job to investigate suspicious behaviour such as this but- he'd rather not have to explain to his sergeant exactly what he was doing in this pub in the first place.

Approaching her solitary table nestled in the corner, she inclined her chin up towards him. Smug. Sloped oak beams cast a thick shadow, and candlelight flickering against her cheekbones made her features waxy like an oil painting against a grimy canvas. 

"May I?"

She tilted her head, as though she expected nothing else but was amused by his gesture nonetheless."Only because you brought a bribe." 

Sebastian hooked the heel of his boot around the chair leg pulling out further. Placed the two glasses on the table as he sat, careful not to spill any against the oak surface. Not that it would be such a shame if it did. Cheap whiskey from a smudged glass was hardly a waste. 

Sebastian tipped his glass to her in toast, she did not feign even the slightest interest in her glass or his hollow act of chivalry. 

"I haven't seen you here before," Sebastian said. 

Flexing her fingers, she admired those well-polished nails. "No. I don't suppose you would have."

West Country. Quaint. As out of place amongst the sea of London accents as her dress was from this decade. Confirming a very important fact for Sebastian she was certainly not from around here. For the best. 

"This doesn't seem like the place for such a nice young lady such as yourself."

Chin resting on the back of her delicate hand. A feline grin spread across her face, as she lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Nor the place for well respected Ministry men." 

Tension seized Sebastian's shoulders. Unnerved by her perception, his eyes darted across the sea of faces. He'd left the scarlet cloak with the gold badge adorning his lapels in his flat long before he'd made apparated to the bottom of Knockturn Alley. Places like these didn't take too kindly to rozzers scrambling their clientele. Nor would he want it to become common knowledge at the Ministry that he frequented grimy drinking holes on his off hours. He was certain she'd been alone but that prickle of unease had his hand reaching towards his wand.  

She caught his arm swiftly, delicate fingers folded up the cuff of his cloak. Ministry insignia branded into the tan leather strap that secured his wand to his forearm. 

Chuckling breathily to himself, Sebastian felt the tension ebb as, just as swiftly, she turned down the sleeve. "Half the people here carry their wand tucked up their sleeve. You have a keen eye, to have spotted that mark from halfway across the room, lass. Do you make it a habit of checking if every man who approaches you is an Auror?"

Sharp eyes glinted with mischief. "Only the ones that interest me."

"Must be my lucky day." He leaned in closer, bitter whiskey breath disturbed a loose curl around her ear as he whispered. "Unless there's a reason you have to be on such high alert for authority I should know about?"

"Do I look like the kind of woman who would have much trouble with the law?"

He cast his eyes down, at her unblemished hands. Free of callouses and scar tissue, the tight restrictiveness of her bodice ill-suited for battle, her polite disarming smile - even those eyes, so reminiscent but not quite right. Despising the remorseful pang in his chest. Nothing like her. 

"Well if that's the case this," he gestured around the damp crooked hole masquerading as a tavern. "Certainly isn't the place for you." 

"Nor you. Unless the requirements for holding such an esteemed post has gone severely downhill and they let swindlers and murderers into their ranks." He almost winced at the sting of the insult she unwittingly delivered. 

"Perhaps lurking around in dingey bars with terrible whiskey isn't suited to either of us. Perhaps, upstanding members of society that we are, should go somewhere we can feel more…relaxed."

"And where exactly is there such a place for me?" Most women would have covered that glaring tan line on her finger, under gloved hands or glamour, but she seemed to flaunt it as she ghosted it across his knuckles;  an invitation.

Sebastian's grin widened. "I have a few ideas."

"I don't have much time. So you better make every minute count."

***

Sebastian unlocked his front door with a snap of his fingers. Gestured her inside, his hand pressed into the small of her back. She inclined her head towards him, a smirk playing on her lips at the hollow politeness of his gesture. Knowing full well his intention of inviting her back to his flat was far from gentlemanly. 

Exaggerated skirts shifted as she stepped inside. Soft lamp lights scattered around his living room sparked to life in welcome illuminating the small living area. Her formal attire looked out of place; more suited for high tea than the sparsely filled space Sebastian inhabited. 

Files strewn across the long velvet settee, scattered teacups and candles burned down to the wick littered every available surface. He knew the larder would be just as barren save for some tea bags and a half-empty bottle of gin the department had cobbled together to purchase for his promotion. He didn't even like gin. The presence of female company always seemed to highlight just how every inch of his flat screamed bachelor.  

Sebastian shrugged off his cloak, hooking it on the back of the door. Never once taking his eyes off her. Odd little creature that she was. Against the faint moonlight that trickled in from the arched window on the far wall, her face cloaked in darkness, she cast a dramatic silhouette. 

Not quite her. No. But her dress despite its bulk could not disguise the dip of her waist, an alluring swell to her chest. With her face masked from view, he felt his drink-fogged mind teeter dangerously on an edge he would not let it wander past. 

She'd bent down, and pinched the corner of a piece of parchment he'd discarded the previous night between her thumb and forefinger. Sebastian slipped his wand from the holster. With a flick, the paper pried itself free to rejoin the rest which were shuffling themselves back into their file before shooting across the room into the waiting drawer of his bureau. The gold lock clicked shut, locking them securely away with an audible snap. 

Her head whipped around, her chin jutted out in irritation, and her eyes narrowed slightly into a glare. Sebastian shrugged, as he unbuckled the holster on his arm, placing it on the narrow kitchen island. "Classified information. I'm sure you understand."  

Sebastian couldn't have nosy witches trawling through his case files. He'd seen plenty of Aurors sacked for lesser sins. And reporters from the Prophet certainly weren't above seduction tactics to get their stories. That knowledge did nothing however to stop the tingle that spread down his spine that the defiant look in her eye ignited in him. 

"I suppose." She shrugged, a forced display of indifference. Before proceeding to further inspect his residence. Striding about like she owned the place and Sebastian was merely some troublesome tenant. 

The cramped flat he'd started renting in London straight out of Hogwarts could hardly be considered a home. Sebastian never planned to make it one. Or stay for as long as he did. Merely a stepping stone, at the start of his career. Close to the Ministry, so he could collapse after a long day. 

Eat. Sleep. Breath. Work. 

That desperate desire to prove himself more than what he'd been. Never satisfied with his lot in life. By the grace of Merlin, he'd been given a second chance to make himself a man - his parents, his sister, that he could be proud of. 

He had planned to settle down eventually. Fix the decaying bones of his parents' old house on the hill with her by his side. Both were now a faded, hopeless dream. Sebastian's life had rarely gone to plan.

Tracing a finger across the well-worn spines on his overstuffed bookshelf she pondered each title with interest. "Quite the collection you have. Some rather questionable titles you have here for a man of your profession."

"Special Ministry approval. They're charmed to be bound to my place of residence - before you get any ideas. Can never be too prepared in my line of work. Knowledge of magic of a more…delicate nature can be the difference between life and death."

Strictly speaking, this was not a lie. Any Auror worth his salt would have at least half the books in Sebastian's collection on curse-breaking, dark magic and deadly creatures. Admittedly, his robust library wasn't necessary for his career nor was all of it purely academic interest. 

Eyewitness accounts of skinwalkers he'd picked up on a short trip to America, liaising with the MACUSA on their rising troll problem. Journals, written in the maddening scrawl of a witch who'd fancied herself a revolutionary scholar. Wanted to test the corruption dark magic had on the soul. Daft bugger used herself to test her theories. Now all that was left of her was crammed into a bachelor's bookcase.

Smallest in number and size, a thin collection of children's stories and a letter correspondence from crackpot conspiracists. He'd been too late to salvage anything that remained of Miriam Fig's research and this pitiful array was all that he'd discovered over the years with any reference to Ancient Magic. A small house fire could destroy what Sebastian could only assume was the largest collated materials on the subject.

It had been foolish to try to love her, but perhaps more still to hunt the vengeful wraith. 

"Well read. Good career. Seems you are a rather eligible bachelor-"

Sebastian smiled moving closer towards her. "I'm not bad to look at either."

"Despite your proclivity for skulking around dingey bars. It's unusual to find a man such as yourself…unattached."

"What can I say - I'm married to my work. Not much time for anything else; not many witches would put up with the lifestyle long-term. Never been interested in marriage." 

Liar. 

She looked up at him through dark lashes, from how those sharp eyes stripped him back until he was raw and exposed - she scented his dishonesty. "Sounds like a lonely life." 

"Depends on who you ask."

Sebastian leaned heavily on the shelf above her head, elbow brushing against well-loved spines. His calloused palm slipped around her waist, running up her side. Felt the curved bones of her corset under his thumb. Leaning in closer still, enough that his breath disturbed the loose curls around her temples. Her lips parted, tongue dancing along her bottom lip as she tilted her chin up towards him like a cat basking in a warm breeze. 

She didn't waiver. Not a single flicker of hesitation in those sharp, piercing eyes. For a moment, Sebastian pitied the man who intended to marry her. But not enough to stop him from capturing her lips. 

Tasting the tang of cheap whiskey in their mingled breath. Not a slither of remorse as her delicate hands found the nape of Sebastian's neck. Used chestnut curls to pull him closer to kiss him more deeply. Their breath was little more than stolen gasps for air and an opportunity for her tongue to seize and slip past parted lips. 

Sebastian crowded her further against the bookshelf. Held tighter to the bunched fabric of her skirts, hands fumbling desperately to feel the shape it disguised. Frustrated by the garment, his lips left her mouth. Travelled down to her jaw, her breathing hitched, head tipped back to thunk against the shelf as Sebastian nipped and sucked at the column of her throat. A little too sharply. But she only pressed into him further. Blood and bruises bloomed wild across her skin as his teeth grazed along her heightened pulse. 

He knew what it was like to try to ensnare creatures such as this. How they bit when cornered. Fool that he was, he desired to tame them, change their nature; almost as much as he craved to be bitten.

Maybe that was why he held her so firmly in his grasp. Petticoats balled in his fists, as he pressed himself awkwardly against her. Her dainty form didn't quite fit the stocky mould of his own. 

Not that anyone witch or woman had since. 

Not that she seemed to care. She pulled Sebastian in like he alone was hers to drink from. Like he belonged to her and she would bend and break him to fit her. Some part of him prayed she succeeded. He'd snap every bone in his body, boil down his sinew in the hope that when at last he healed - he would fit another. 

Sebastian pressed his mouth into the crook of her shoulder and burrowed his face, inhaling deeply, as he mouthed at her skin. Soft and supple as an over-ripe peach. Desperately, pathetically trying and failing to make himself fit. But the bridge of his nose bumped harshly against her clavicle and his back ached from stooping. 

He'd never melted into anyone since her. No matter how many times he tried with countless trysts with all the ways they reminded him of her in their laughs, smiles, and eyes - they were not her.

Pained groan against her shoulder. Cloth ripped as he tore past her outdated petticoats and the silk of her undergarments. Desperate hands kneaded at her bare flesh. Thigh. Hip. The curve of her arse. Every inch of her skin grew hot, flushed under his touch. If Sebastian had been in his right mind not addled, by drink and frustration he would have handed it to her; for such a wellbred lady, she did not startle easily or cringe from his working hands. With a strung-out whine, she simply displaced the torn fabric so Sebastian's knee pressed between her thighs could provide her with more friction.

Sebastian sank to his knees, hooking her thigh around his broad shoulder. Balanced precariously, her back pressed against the stacks and her leg suspended quivering. Heel dug between his shoulder blades as she sought stability. Her limbs were lean…soft. Delicate like a lamb. No coiled muscle battle worn and firm disguised under her skirts.  

That did not stop Sebastian from groaning against the sparse hair as he nestled himself between her thighs. Her muscles clenched tighter. Not with apprehension. No. With blinding unhindered desire. Whining breathlessly, as she urged him to fulfil his role, drop any pretence to do what they came here for. This was no budding romance. And there was no time to pretend otherwise. 

Sebastian's tongue darted out teasing the tip through her folds. Eagerly seeking out her bundle of nerves to curl his tongue under her hood. Satisfied, a mewl passed her lips to at last have Sebastian where she desired him most. Hips bucked and writhed with every broad stroke and teasing lick against her soaking entrance. Brown tresses tangled harshly in her grip, those neatly filed nails scratching encouragingly against his scalp. 

Her taste was unfamiliar on Sebastian's tongue, but he only lapped at her more fervently. Desperate. As if he savoured enough of her desire for him - he could burn away the memories of sweeter nectars.

Bunching her skirt closer to her stomach, Sebastian's view of her was unobstructed. The collar pulled open where she'd made swift work of the buttons of her high neckline; they hung like loosely strung pearls cascading down her chest which heaved with every breath. Breasts dimpled against the restrictive tightly laced corset.

Sebastian's eyes flicked up to meet hers. Not the right shape or hue but that intensity to them. Storm raging across a riptide, Sebastian, vulnerable in their depth. He could drown in them and would do so gladly.

Blood rushed south, and Sebastian groaned low, pained. He sucked on her clit, coaxing more slick to coat his lips and chin. Hoping beyond hope that her eyes locked on his would flutter closed in pleasure. Her mouth was ajar, each drawn-out moan growing louder as she approached her peak. Clever calculating gaze fixed on Sebastian. He knew he was exactly where she wanted him. Prey to her predator. His cock strained and achingly hard because of it.

Her back arched against the stacks, toes curling against the centre of his back, legs shook with the strain to hold herself upright. Sebastian was relentless. He devoured the quivering nub, tongue teasing as he sucked. Her passionate cry was unrestrained, legs threatening to buckle bringing her down like a house of cards as she collapsed over the edge. Aftershock of pleasure rolled over her, he kept a firm grip on her hip as she rested more heavily against him. His desire for her is confusing and just as precarious. 

Sebastian unhooked her leg from his shoulder, palms running along the backs of her calves. She was still propped up feebly holding herself against the bookcase. Pads of her fingers clutching pathetically at the shelves with the ball of her heel holding purchase on the floor. 

Orgasm ebbing, softening her predatory edge. A smirk played at Sebastian's lips as he looked up at her once polished appearance now dishevelled. Rattling, with a lust-drunk gaze that defiant chin hanging slightly ajar as she greedily gulped down air. 

She narrowed her eyes at his smug expression and gathered her composure before slipping her ruined dress from her shoulders letting it puddle at her feet. Nail digging under his chin as she beckoned Sebastian upwards, pulling him in. 

It made Sebastian's heart beat wildly against his chest. A caged canary faced with a falcon. 

Teeth grazed his bottom lip, tongue seeking his own. Sebastian's clothes fell away easily from his broad frame. His shirt was discarded, followed by breeches which tangled around his ankles as they fumbled towards the settee. Muffled grunts into her mouth every time her palm grazed his cock, hard and throbbing, through his undergarments. Sebastian moved to lie her swiftly across the settee. One hand pressed into the small of her back the other tangled in amongst the pins now falling loose from her hair.

 

Inexplicably, she moved faster than Sebastian thought she was capable of. Leg hooked around his ankle like a snake pulling him off balance. Backs of his knees connected with the settee as his legs buckled and Sebastian collapsed bodily onto cushions. Rarely with his extensive training did anyone get the jump on him. 

Her lips curled as she observed the way his enlarged head twitched against his belly more eagerly. "Now, I think it's my turn." Laces from her corset pulled loose, she let the camisole shift to the floor with it. "-And you looked far too pretty beneath me."

As she straddled his lap, Sebastian spluttered on his groan and the intoxicating sensation of her wet centre against his shaft. Her palms were flat, braced against his chest, nails scratching at the coarse hairs that grew there. Every inch of her soft, naked flesh pressed against him. His hands settled on the curve of her hips, sliding along her flushed skin with hands that seemed too large. 

She really was quite pretty. Sebastian just wished the parts that didn't remind him of her made his heart race as much as the ones that did. 

She caught his lips, fingers cupped against his jaw, her mouth moving against his. Teeth and tongue. Hot breath came out in short dulcet pants as she greedily tasted the remnants of her arousal on his lips.

Her hand snaked down between them, taking Sebastian's throbbing length in her hand. He hissed, as her thumb smoothed over the leaking slit, aligning him with her entrance. Eyelashes fluttered a satisfied sigh, as she sank down, taking him inside of her. Dainty as she may appear, she appeared to relish the stretch to accommodate his size, almost as much as he did. So tight she gripped his cock, it almost sent him hurtling over the edge. 

Barely giving herself time to adjust before she canted her hips. Weight shifting so she could slide up his shaft until only the head of his cock remained before sinking back down onto Sebastian's girth more demandingly. Needy grunts reverberated in Sebastian's chest as he matched her frantic desperate pace. Forehead braced on her chest as he bucked his hips into her tight core. Pebbled nipple caught between his lips, her head thrown back in a wanton moan as Sebastian ever so gently grazed the peak with his teeth. 

Sebastian closed his eyes. Whiskey fog coupled with the godly feel of her clenched around him, he relaxed into her eager pace. Inhibitions lowered, his mind straying to the well-worn path he rarely let himself tread. 

Face striking contorted in ecstasy; a savage beauty like lightning striking the ocean. Mallowsweet scent; that soothed like a botanist's herbal balm. How perfectly her body wrapped around his own as if by design. Sebastian's teeth pressed hard against his tongue as her name danced upon it. With his eyes closed, hands held back - that shameful part of him could pretend it was her. 

"Sebastian," the witch moaned. He didn't remember giving her his name. Nor asking hers. The voice he heard was not that polite West Country lilt but one conjured from Hades - his divine pleasure and punishment. 

Can't let it be her. 

Sebastian forced his eyes open, to look at the woman from the bar. Her neat hair, narrow shoulders and thin top lip. Only to find the lines separating fantasy from reality blurred and contorted. His stomach lurched. 

Maybe he'd had more to drink than he thought. 

Whiskey had crowded and garbled his senses as well as his inhibitions. Sebastian's vision was merely blurred. She looked like her. Not just in her eyes but the sloping curve of her neck, the arch of her nose, her hair longer and tangling against the neat pins that had once held it back. 

It's all the whiskey. 

If he could bring himself to look away from her face for even one moment he would see the room spinning. But he couldn't look away. 

Those keen eyes bore into him, locked with his own and he swore they changed colour. The fire that had been smouldering within sparked, roaring, melting her irises into that familiar hue. 

He didn't just have to squeeze his eyes shut to see her and pretend it was her impossibly tight walls clenching around him with every thrust. 

There she was. 

"You," Sebastian spluttered, disbelief tight in his chest. "No. No- It can't be you. This can't be happening." Who cares if he sounded mad? His mind was spiralled and scrambled, desperate to bring back the visage of the woman from the bar and right himself. This face; her face didn't waver. She rolled her hips once more, bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she cast her gaze down. Over her breasts and the faded scar that curled under the left from the crucio, he'd administered. Firm muscles of her legs earned from years of battle. Calloused hands of someone who knew little of comfort. All were once again her own. 

Sebastian's world was spiralling, tipping on its axis. Tension in every muscle in his body. Still as beautiful as she was in his nightmares, even the ones where she tore out his heart. She clicked her tongue, amused then smiled. So wide, it bore too many teeth.

Fucking exquisite. Sebastian despised the way his heart faltered in his chest. 

"Pity. I guess the kneazle's out of the bag," she purred, teeth raking sharp across his earlobe. So sharp it shocked his spiral back into sickening clarity like ice in his veins. 

Like a shot, Sebastian wrapped his hand hard around her throat forcing her face away from him. Thumb pressed harshly into the corner of her jaw with his iron grip on her windpipe. Any sane woman would tremble to have his large hand like a vice around her throat in anger. Cower, under the venom in his eyes.

But she was far from sane; perhaps never had been. She gasped involuntarily choking around where his fingers so deeply pressed into her flesh, but the smile on her lips never faltered despite how he could feel the hammer of her blood against his fingertips.

"You should know I don't share," she wheezed. It wasn't the polite West Country drawl she'd adopted at the bar - but that feminine purr he knew far too well. Velvety, like a caress that sent shivers down his spine; and if it were possible simultaneously made his blood run cold and his cock impossibly stiffer where it was sheathed deep within her. She whimpered approvingly, hot breath ghosting his freckled cheeks.

"Fuck- how did you-" Choking on his groan as she expertly rolled her hips, grinding on his cock. Evil, manipulative witch. She knew exactly how to turn practically every rational thought in Sebastian's brain to smoke. 

"Polyjuice. She was pretty don't you think? You seemed to like fucking her while it lasted. Maybe not as much as that curvy redhead from a few months ago...I had bruises on my thighs for weeks."

Somewhere deep in his psyche, Sebastian knew he should push her off. Bind her. Gag her. Put as much distance between himself and her and the mixed-up way she made him feel. Preferably in a cell in the deepest part of Azkaban the Ministry had long ago allocated for her when they signed the warrant for her arrest. At that moment, over the cacophony screaming through his head the only coherent thought was how to keep her desperately bouncing on his cock. 

"I thought it was my turn to have some unsanctioned fun." 

No - rose, bubbled and died in his throat. Caught somewhere amongst the shameful rasping groan as she began to rhythmically rock her hips. Never quite releasing her entirely, but Sebastian's grip on her throat loosened as his muscles slackened in shameful pleasure. 

Using every bit of her newfound leash, she leaned forward to kiss him. Sin, like ambrosia on his tongue. Lips slotted against him, they moved in perfect harmony to a melody he wished had never been composed on his bones. 

She wrapped around him as if the wild thing that she had always been had sprouted from the earth, and curled her tendrils around him. Or rather, like a constant wave beating against him she'd worn his surface. It was a marvel he hadn't crumbled into her sooner. 

"You're mine you know," she cooed, her breath hot against his ear.

"I am not," Sebastian spat. But try as he might to deny it, curse her until his final breath - his words rang hollow. And he loathes himself all the more for it. She was not his any longer, but something else. Twisted by cruelty and power that simply wore the face of the woman he once loved. 

Shame stirred in his gut; desire coursed through his blood. 

"Denying it doesn't make it any less true. You know me blind. When my face is not my own. Fate has bound us, Sebastian. Just as I would know you in any life."

Sebastian gritted his teeth, cheek pressed against her sternum. Fingers digging into her shoulder blades, as he pounded his cock up into her harder, faster. If he was stronger, he would not be prey to her illicit designs for him - but he was not. She keened, greedy to take all he could give her. Consume him entirely if she could. Sebastian closed his eyes and cursed himself for being weak.

Vision narrowing, Sebastian groaned, low and pitiful into the curve of her neck. Ashamed of what he knew was coming. "I hate you," he cursed. Repeated it like a mantra, his lips against her sweat-salted skin as if he could transcribe the words onto her flesh.

Deep plunges into her warmth growing erratic as Sebastian's coil tightens. Her body clenched, tightening around him, with every thrust teased against her sweet spot coaxing more slick onto his cock. His punishing words merely rolled off her curves like water off a duck's back. 

"S-Sebastian," her hoarse cry pierced through his resolve. Sebastian bit into her neck trying and failing to hold back from the precipice of the inevitable. Unwilling to surrender any more of himself to her. It only served to send her hurtling over the cliff. His cock buried deep inside of her, her head thrown back, cunt quivering as her climax broke. Orgasm, wracked through her in waves. Engulfing Sebastian's every sense. 

Fire and Brimstone. Gentle breezes and mallowsweet. 

Beauty. Terror. 

Rhythm faltering, Sebastian's hips spluttered as that mounting coil finally snapped. Her name on his lips, her scent on his skin. Everything that remained of Sebastian Sallow was consumed entirely by her. He came hard - with a broken pathetic whine that forced itself from his body as he spilt inside of her.

It was no little death - it was all-consuming. A part of him would never come back from. Another piece of his soul surrendered along with what was left of his dignity. 

Sebastian fought for breath. Unforgiving waters filled his chest, ice seized his joints, heart thundered as dark edges clouded his vision, threatening to drown out the light and sound. Choking on his saliva he wheezed, shoulders heaved forward violently. Fresh tears pricked in his eyes. 

She shushed his soothingly, thumb tracing idle patterns on his skin with a sickening gentleness that curdled his stomach. He whined pathetically against her chest but she only gripped him harder. Fingers carded through his hair as she hummed a sweet tune peppering kisses to the crown of his chestnut hair. 

Perhaps, in another life, he had the strength to overcome the guilt and sickness now seizing his bones. In another, perhaps there was no deception to be ashamed of. 

He wasn't sure how long they sat entwined, soft cock still inside her, his spend leaking onto his thighs matting in the hair. When at last Sebastian's violent sobbing eased he felt the enchantment stretch across his body, taunt ropes strapped his arms to his sides, and bound his ankles. A chaste kiss against his temple as she slid from his lap.

Sebastian watched her and tried to pretend for a second, that he was not bound, she was not mad and hips swaying hypnotically as she pranced naked around their flat as she did every Sunday evening. Not his. Theirs. Another life, unstained by dark magic where she was still his. 

Fussing with her dress, eyebrows pinched together, frowning as she examined the shredded yellow gown. She sighed, holding the unlaced corset over her breasts, gathering up the remnants to haul them to the kitchen island. She found his wand, with its emerald and onyx handle, the one that had belonged to his paternal great-grandfather. Back and forth she toyed with it in her hands. 

"Put that down." A feeble attempt at a threat from a man bound, naked, cheeks streaked with stale tears. Tight from salt they felt stretched like a drum. 

"You ruined my dress," she pouted. "The least you can do is help me fix it."

Traitorously, Sebastian's wand didn't so much as shudder in retaliation. It obeyed her easily, stitching up the splintered seams, her corset tightened, cinching at her waist. Her hairpins reorganised themselves. She looked almost like her old self, the girl she'd been at school, with a spark of fire in her eyes that mirrored his own. 

"Before you go running off to the next little witch who bats her eyelashes at you, Bash. Try to remember - I don't share." She placed his wand back on the counter and slipped a canteen from her purse. She drank deeply. Gagging, hand smacking into her chest to keep down whatever foul liquid it contained.

If Sebastian had still been drunk the way her face bubbled like stew on a boil would have turned his stomach. Her lips thinned, her hair shrunk back into her scalp, her scars paled and her muscles softened. The woman from the Pub returned, exactly as he'd met her. It did nothing to quell the sickness churning in his gut. 

"Au revoir mon amour." She was gone as quickly as she came, but her presence lingered like a gaping, festering wound. 

Sebastian sat in the dark. Hatred for her that he cultivated in public and the private yearning he tended to as it grew like persistent weeds in his garden he tended had given way to emptiness. A void that for a time he was content to let swallow him whole as he stared at the cracks in his floor. Mourning the woman he'd loved. But most he mourned for himself, for all she took from him. 

Shadows inched across the floor as dawn eventually broke. Long after the bindings had dissolved. Sebastian hadn't slept or moved for hours and his joints stiff, groaned as he got to his feet. He trudged to his bathroom and ran the water until it was scalding. Intent on scrubbing his skin raw. As if she could un-touch him. 

[artyandink]

the art of heresy forged 1982

SUMMARY: Modern day, 2022, and you have no clue what’s going on. You knew what you went through. You knew it was real, but why were there people trying to convince you that everything that happened to you wasn’t real. Hell, you called bullshit. But you get your chance to fight back when you get a call at your door.

TW: psychological torture, traummentions of sex, Ben (cause he’s an individual warning), it’s The Boys so be careful guys, really creepy shit, crack, fluff

STW: voyeurism, exhibitionism, missionary, unprotected sex

A/N - divider by @chachachannah

Song Inspo: Heaven by Julia Michaels

cracked armour

NOVEMBER 1982:

You were in the middle of one of your usual sessions with Ben when the door swung open. Ben had you pinned beneath him, both of you completely absorbed in each other, bodies tangled in the sheets, sweat clinging to your skin, and you were right in the middle of things—no warning, no knock, nothing. Just the door creaking open and the shrill voice of Crimson Countess cutting through the room like nails on a chalkboard.

“What the fuck?”

Ben didn’t even flinch, didn’t pause for a second. He just kept going, driving into you with that same reckless abandon he always had, as if nothing had happened. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but glance over at the door to see her standing there, wide-eyed, her hands on her hips, her mouth twisted in a mix of shock and anger.

“Jesus Christ, Marjorie,” Ben growled without breaking his rhythm. “What the hell do you want?”

You let out a snort, barely holding back a laugh as you gripped the headboard to steady yourself. “Yeah, you can see we’re kinda busy here.”

Marjorie—Crimson Countess—looked like she didn’t know whether to scream or cry. Her perfectly manicured fingers clenched into fists at her sides, and she sputtered for a second before finding her voice. “Busy? You call this busy?”

Ben chuckled, deep and throaty, not missing a beat. “Yeah, sweetheart. Busy. You know, this thing we’re doing here. Real complicated. Takes focus.”

You couldn’t help but throw in your own dig, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you smirked up at her. “You could always pull up a chair, Marj. Take notes if you need ‘em.”

Her face flushed crimson, almost matching the ridiculous red getup she always wore. “You’re disgusting. Both of you.”

“Yeah, well,” Ben grunted, “you’re still standing there, so clearly you’re not that disgusted. Maybe you’re into it.”

“Or maybe you’re just curious,” you added with a wicked grin. “It’s okay. We all know you’re not getting it like this from anyone else.”

That set her off. She threw her hands up in frustration, her voice rising in pitch. “You’re seriously doing this while I’m standing right here?”

“Damn right, we are,” Ben said, his tone casual, as if he was discussing the weather and not in the middle of absolutely wrecking you. “Not like you’re gonna stop us, are you?”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan as Ben’s pace quickened, but you were having too much fun watching Marjorie squirm. Her eyes darted between the two of you, disbelief etched into every line of her face.

“This is fucking sick,” she spat, taking a step closer to the bed but keeping her distance like she was afraid to get too close.

“Sick?” you laughed, arching an eyebrow at her. “Nah, this is fun. But you wouldn’t know, would you? Too busy playing PR princess while we’re back here doing the real work.”

Ben let out a bark of laughter. “Real fucking work, yeah.”

Marjorie’s eyes narrowed, and for a second, you thought she might actually lunge at you. But instead, she crossed her arms over her chest, her voice cold. “I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing, Ben, but this is gonna blow up in your face. The public—”

“Fuck the public,” Ben cut her off, his tone sharp. “I don’t give a damn what they think. They don’t matter.”

You grinned up at him, locking eyes as you added, “And neither do you, Marjorie. Not here, not now.”

She looked like she’d been slapped, her lips twitching as she tried to come up with a response. But there was nothing she could say that would matter, not when Ben had made it clear that he didn’t give a shit about her or anyone else.

Ben slowed down just enough to smirk down at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Think she’ll stick around for the grand finale?”

You laughed, not bothering to hide the wicked gleam in your eye. “Maybe she’ll take a few notes after all.”

“Doubt it,” Ben grunted. “She’s too uptight.”

Marjorie’s face was flushed red, her breathing ragged as she stood there, hands still balled into fists. “You two are fucking insane.”

“Maybe,” Ben agreed, his voice thick with sarcasm. “But at least we’re having a good time. You should try it sometime.”

“I’ll pass,” she snapped, her voice shaking with anger. “Enjoy your little game while it lasts.”

“Oh, trust me,” you shot back, grinning. “We are.”

She stood there for another few seconds, her eyes darting between the two of you before she finally turned on her heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind her with enough force to make the walls rattle.

“Fucking drama queen,” Ben muttered, his eyes still locked on you, his breath coming in rough, heavy bursts.

You burst out laughing, the sound echoing in the now-empty room. “She really thought she could do something, didn’t she?”

Ben shook his head, still chuckling. “Dumb as a sack of bricks.”

“Yep,” you agreed, your laughter subsiding as you arched your back, pushing up against him. “Now, where were we?”

He grinned down at you, that familiar cocky smile spreading across his face as he rolled his hips again, sending another wave of pleasure crashing through you. “Right about here, I think.”

“Good,” you murmured, wrapping your legs tighter around him. “Because I wasn’t done.”

Ben smirked, his grip on your hips tightening. “Neither was I, sweetheart.”

For a moment, the encounter with Crimson Countess was nothing more than a vague memory, something to laugh about later. Right now, the only thing that mattered was the way your bodies moved together, the way every touch, every word, sent sparks of electricity shooting through your veins.

You knew this wasn’t normal—not by anyone’s standards. Most people didn’t keep going when someone walked in, especially someone like her. But you and Ben? You didn’t give a fuck. You never had, and you never would.

That was part of the fun.

“Think she’s gonna run crying to PR?” you asked breathlessly, your hands tangling in his hair as he moved faster.

“Let her,” Ben growled, his eyes blazing with that familiar mix of arrogance and lust. “Let her tell whoever the fuck she wants. I don’t care.”

You couldn’t help but grin. That was why you liked being with Ben. He didn’t care about appearances, about what people thought. He did what he wanted, when he wanted, and didn’t apologize for it.

And neither did you.

The two of you were a match made in hell, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The tension built between you, the air crackling with electricity as you moved together, faster and faster, every movement pushing you closer to the edge. You could feel your muscles tightening, the familiar heat pooling in your stomach as you hurtled toward release, and from the look in Ben’s eyes, he was right there with you.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he growled, his voice low and rough. “Show me what you’ve got.”

You bit your lip, a moan escaping your throat as you arched against him, your body shuddering as the tension finally snapped. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you, leaving you breathless and trembling beneath him.

Ben wasn’t far behind, his own release hitting him like a freight train. He let out a low, guttural moan as he collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving with every breath.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of your breathing, the only sign of the chaos that had just unfolded. You lay there, tangled together in the sheets, bodies still buzzing from the intensity of it all.

Eventually, Ben rolled off of you, propping himself up on one elbow as he reached for his discarded cigar. “Think she’s gonna tell Vought?”

You snorted, running a hand through your sweat-dampened hair. “Who gives a shit?”

He lit the cigar, taking a long drag before exhaling a cloud of smoke into the room. “Damn right.”

You couldn’t help but grin as you lay there, feeling a sense of satisfaction settle over you. You didn’t care what Crimson Countess did, or what Vought thought. All that mattered was the moment, the thrill of it all, and the fact that, for now, you and Ben were untouchable.

“Next time, maybe lock the door,” you said with a smirk, glancing over at the still-open door.

Ben laughed, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest. “Why? Adds to the fun.”

You shook your head, still grinning as you closed your eyes, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

With Ben, things were always unpredictable, always chaotic. But that was exactly why you kept coming back for more.

2022:

You stood at the stove, spatula in hand, flipping eggs like it was second nature. The sizzle of the pan filled the small kitchen, a comforting sound that grounded you in the present moment. The sun streamed through the windows, casting a golden hue across the countertop. Everything seemed peaceful, normal even—well, as normal as things ever got.

Behind you, Ben was grumbling as usual. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest, cigar clamped between his teeth. His face twisted in that all-too-familiar sneer of disdain as he scrolled through his phone, eyes narrowed at the screen like it was personally offending him.

“Jesus Christ,” Ben muttered around the cigar. “What the hell is this shit? Who the fuck needs a phone that talks to you? Back in the day, we just picked up the damn thing and dialed.”

You couldn’t help but snicker under your breath. “Welcome to the future, old man.”

Ben scoffed, taking a long drag from his cigar before blowing the smoke toward the ceiling. “Yeah, well, the future’s fucking stupid. Half the shit they got nowadays is useless. What happened to good old-fashioned simplicity, huh? You know, when a car was just a car and not a goddamn spaceship?”

“You sound like a cranky grandpa,” you teased, glancing over your shoulder at him with a smirk. “Next, you’re gonna tell me how much better everything was ‘back in your day.’”

“Because it was,” Ben shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You didn’t have to deal with all these gadgets and apps and…what the hell’s this thing?” He held up his phone, jabbing a finger at the screen. “A fucking smart refrigerator? Why the hell would I need my fridge to talk to me? Just keep my beer cold and shut the fuck up.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the stove as you scooped the eggs onto a plate. “Sounds like you’re just too old to figure it out, Ben.”

He let out a bark of laughter, stepping closer until you could feel the heat of his body behind you. “Too old? Sweetheart, I’m in my prime. These tech bros just don’t know how to make shit that works.”

“Right,” you replied, sarcasm thick in your tone as you leaned forward to grab a plate. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Ben moved closer, his large hands finding your hips as he pressed himself against your back. The familiar weight of his body was warm and solid, grounding you even as he continued his rant. “You’re telling me you like all this high-tech bullshit? What happened to just waking up, grabbing a cup of coffee, and going about your day without some gadget asking you to rate your sleep or telling you how many steps you’ve taken?”

You laughed softly, your hands steady as you set the plates on the counter. “It’s not that bad. Just different. People like convenience.”

“Convenience, my ass,” Ben grumbled, his voice low in your ear as his hands roamed lazily from your hips up your sides. “It’s just making people soft. Too much reliance on these machines. Hell, half of ‘em probably don’t know how to change a tire anymore.”

You leaned back into him, feeling the rumble of his voice vibrate through his chest. “Well, lucky for you, I’m not one of those people.”

“Damn right you’re not,” Ben muttered, his hands slipping lower, fingertips brushing along the hem of your shirt. He was getting handsy again, not that you minded—usually.

But then, his hand dipped lower, skimming over your stomach, and your body tensed. It was subtle, a brief stiffening of your muscles, but enough that you felt the change. Your breath hitched for just a second, your heart skipping an uneven beat.

Ben didn’t seem to notice at first, his lips grazing the side of your neck as he grunted something under his breath. But you could feel the tightening in your chest, that uncomfortable sensation creeping up on you, like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

He paused, his hands stilling for a moment. “You good?”

You forced a chuckle, shaking off the tension as quickly as it had come. “Yeah, fine. Just—got a weird cramp. Probably from standing too long.”

Ben’s grip loosened slightly, but he didn’t pull away entirely. His breath was warm against your ear as he spoke, his tone more curious than concerned. “Cramp, huh?”

You nodded, turning the stove off and focusing on dishing up the food. “Yeah, nothing serious. Just one of those things.”

Ben was silent for a beat, his gaze lingering on you as if he could sense something was off, even if he didn’t know what it was. But, true to form, he didn’t push. He never was one for digging into emotions, at least not unless they were his own.

“Well, if it’s nothing serious, then I guess we can keep going later,” he said with a smirk, his hands squeezing your hips again before giving you a playful slap on the ass.

You rolled your eyes, the tension in your chest easing slightly as you grabbed the plates. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

“Damn right,” Ben said, swaggering over to the table like he owned the place. “And you love it.”

You couldn’t argue with that. Despite everything, despite the complicated mess that was your life, there was something comforting about Ben’s rough-edged confidence, the way he bulldozed through every situation like nothing could touch him. It was like having a storm in your corner—loud, chaotic, and impossible to ignore, but also undeniably powerful.

Still, as you sat down across from him, the brief flicker of unease from earlier lingered in the back of your mind, a shadow that wouldn’t quite go away.

Ben took a bite of his eggs, glancing up at you between chews. “You’re quiet today. What, did I finally wear you out?”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Not even close, old man.”

“Old?” He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You wanna talk about old? I’ll show you old when we hit round two later.”

“Pretty sure you’re already on round fifty by now,” you teased, taking a bite of your own food. “Might need to slow down before your back gives out.”

“Fuck you,” Ben grinned, clearly amused. “You wish you could keep up with me.”

You grinned back, the banter lightening the mood, but that tension in your stomach still hadn’t fully disappeared. Ben’s hand on your stomach—it had been nothing, just an absent-minded touch, but it had brought back memories you’d buried a long time ago, memories you didn’t want to face right now.

You shoved them down, locking them away where they couldn’t reach you. Not today. Not while Ben was here, running his mouth about the good ol’ days and griping about technology. You weren’t going to let the past creep in and ruin your morning.

“So,” Ben said, leaning back in his chair and taking another drag of his cigar, “what’s the plan for today? Gonna make me breakfast every morning from now on, or was this a one-time deal?”

You smirked, leaning back in your own chair. “Don’t get used to it. I’m not your maid.”

Ben laughed, a low, rough sound that sent a thrill down your spine. “Damn shame. You make a hell of an omelet.”

You raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the half-eaten plate in front of him. “You mean these eggs?”

He shrugged, unbothered. “Close enough.”

Shaking your head, you got up to clear the table, but Ben’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist. He pulled you down onto his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist as he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear.

“Let’s skip the dishes,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “Got something else in mind.”

You felt that familiar heat rise in your chest, your body responding to his touch despite the lingering discomfort from earlier. But still, there was a part of you that hesitated, a part of you that couldn’t shake the memories his touch had stirred up.

“Ben,” you started, but he cut you off with a kiss, his lips rough and demanding against yours.

Whatever you had been about to say was forgotten, lost in the heat of the moment as you gave in, letting yourself get swept up in the chaos that was Ben. His hands roamed your body, fingers digging into your skin as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

For now, the past could stay buried. You had enough to deal with in the present.

You pulled into Georgia’s driveway, the crunch of gravel under the tires the only sound as Ben sat next to you, looking about as out of place as a bear in a tea shop. He was fidgeting with his cigar, lighting it for the third time since you’d left your place. He glanced at the house with narrowed eyes, lips pulled into a scowl. You could practically see the gears in his head turning.

“Remind me again why the hell we’re doing this?” Ben asked, his voice gruff, irritation evident as he took another drag from his cigar. “I’m not exactly the family man type.”

You chuckled, pulling the keys from the ignition and turning to face him. “Because it’s polite to visit people, Ben. Especially when they’re family. You’ll be fine. Just don’t swear every other sentence, alright?”

Ben scoffed, leaning back in his seat and blowing smoke out of the window. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just sit there like a good little puppy and pretend to give a shit about... what? Kids' soccer games? PTA meetings? Jesus, I’m already regretting this.”

“They’re not asking you to join the PTA, relax. Just... be nice. Try not to traumatize the kids.”

Ben muttered something under his breath, but he didn’t argue further. You both knew this wasn’t his scene—family gatherings, kids running around, small talk with people who weren’t about to get shot or punched. But this visit wasn’t about him; it was about Georgia, your niece, who you hadn’t seen properly in years.

You got out of the car, and Ben followed with his usual swagger, rolling his shoulders as though preparing for a battle. You had to hide a grin—he was more nervous than he let on, and the idea of him being awkward around kids was just plain funny.

As you approached the door, it swung open to reveal Georgia standing there with a broad smile. “Auntie! You’re here!”

She wrapped you in a tight hug, and you smiled, hugging her back. She was all grown up now, in her forties with kids of her own, but she still had that sweet energy she’d always had. There was a part of you that found it almost grating, but the pride you felt for her managed to outweigh the disdain.

“Of course I’m here,” you said, pulling back to look at her. “I’m not gonna miss a chance to catch up.”

Georgia’s gaze flickered to Ben, standing awkwardly beside you, his cigar clenched between his teeth as though it was the only thing holding him together. “And you brought... Soldier Boy.”

“Yeah, well, he’s hard to shake off,” you teased, nudging Ben in the ribs with your elbow.

Ben grunted, giving Georgia a half-hearted nod. “Nice place you got here.”

Georgia smiled, a little unsure of how to respond to Ben’s gruff demeanor but polite as ever. “Thanks! Come on in, both of you. Ryan and the kids are in the living room.”

You and Ben followed her inside, stepping into the cozy warmth of the house. The smell of baking cookies wafted from the kitchen, and the faint sound of children’s laughter echoed from the other room. The normalcy of it all hit you like a wave—this was the life you could’ve had, maybe. If things had been different.

Ryan, Georgia’s husband, was sitting on the couch with their kids—a girl about seven and a boy around eleven. The boy, Liam, looked up at you with curious eyes, while the girl, Ella, was more focused on her tablet.

“Hey, Auntie,” Ryan greeted, getting up from the couch and offering a hand to Ben, who hesitated for a split second before shaking it.

Ben wasn’t much for pleasantries, but at least he was trying. “Ryan,” Ben said, his tone short but not entirely dismissive.

You smiled and sat down next to Georgia on the couch, the familiar comfort of family making you relax. Ben, however, stayed standing for a moment, clearly unsure of what to do with himself before eventually taking a seat next to you, his broad frame practically swallowing the chair.

The small talk began—how the kids were doing, Georgia’s job, Ryan’s latest project at work. Ben mostly grunted in response, keeping his words to a minimum as he watched the kids with a wary eye, like they might attack at any moment.

After a while, Georgia stood up, clapping her hands together. “Alright, Auntie, you ready to help me finish up those cookies?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think I remember how to bake?”

“Come on,” she laughed. “You used to be good at it. Besides, we’ll let the guys bond, right?”

You shot Ben a quick glance. The thought of leaving him alone with Ryan and the kids was mildly amusing, but also concerning. Still, you figured he could manage for a few minutes. “Alright, lead the way.”

As you followed Georgia into the kitchen, you heard Ben grunt behind you. “Don’t take too long. I’m not exactly the babysitting type.”

Ryan chuckled. “You’ll be fine, man. It’s just kids.”

In the kitchen, Georgia handed you an apron, which you waved off, and set out some dough for the cookies. As you started rolling it out, she glanced at you, her expression softening.

“So... what’s going on with you and Soldier Boy? Are you guys... a thing?”

You paused, your hands stilling for a moment before you resumed rolling the dough. “A thing? I wouldn’t call it that.”

Georgia frowned, her curiosity piqued. “But you came here together. You’re, like, a couple, right?”

You sighed, knowing this conversation was going to happen eventually. “It’s... complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

You shot her a look, trying to decide how much to explain. “We’ve got an arrangement. We’re... close, but it’s not exactly the whole flowers and dates kind of deal.”

Georgia tilted her head, trying to wrap her head around it. “So, you’re... not dating?”

“Not in the traditional sense,” you admitted, smirking at how understated that was. “It works for us. We’re both rough around the edges, not really the romantic type, you know?”

Georgia raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t push further. “Alright. As long as you’re happy.”

You snorted. “Happiness is overrated. But yeah, I’m good.”

She didn’t quite seem to buy it but let it go for the moment. Instead, she started telling you about Ella’s latest school project and how Liam was getting into sports, and you let yourself get lost in the simplicity of family life, even if it wasn’t yours.

Meanwhile, back in the living room, Ben was having a slightly different experience.

Liam, the eleven-year-old, had been watching him closely ever since you left the room. Eventually, he scooted closer, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Hey, Soldier Boy,” Liam said, his voice hesitant but eager. “Can I ask you something?”

Ben raised an eyebrow, glancing at Ryan, who was distracted by something on TV. “What is it, kid?”

Liam fidgeted, looking around to make sure no one was listening. “How does... uh... how does sex work?”

Ben blinked, completely caught off guard. For a moment, he just stared at the kid, processing what he’d just heard. “What the hell?”

Liam’s eyes went wide. “I mean, I just... I heard some stuff at school, and I thought maybe you’d know.”

Ben sighed, running a hand over his face. This was definitely not in his wheelhouse. He glanced toward the kitchen, silently cursing you for leaving him alone with this.

“Look, kid,” Ben started, leaning forward, “sex... it’s complicated. You don’t need to worry about it yet. But when the time comes, you do it like a man.”

Liam blinked. “Like a man?”

“Yeah,” Ben continued, clearly out of his depth but powering through anyway. “You don’t... overthink it. Just, you know, be confident. Be in charge.”

Liam nodded, though he looked more confused than enlightened.

“Right,” Ben muttered, realizing how unhelpful he was being. “Look, maybe ask your dad, alright?”

Just then, Ryan glanced over, catching the tail end of the conversation. “Ask me what?”

Liam hesitated, glancing between his dad and Ben before shaking his head. “Nothing, never mind.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow but let it go. Ben, on the other hand, was desperately hoping the topic would never come up again.

Back in the kitchen, you were helping Georgia place the cookies on a tray when you heard Liam’s voice echo from the living room, asking about sex. You froze, eyes widening as you shot Georgia a look.

She chuckled nervously. “Uh... should we intervene?”

You shook your head, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Let’s see if Ben can handle it.”

After a few minutes, you and Georgia returned to the living room, carrying a plate of freshly baked cookies. Ben was still sitting on the chair, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else, while Liam was quietly munching on a cookie, his mind clearly still processing whatever Ben had said.

“So,” you said, setting the plate down on the coffee table, “everything go alright while we were gone?”

Ben shot you a look that could’ve melted steel. “Peachy.”

Georgia laughed, shaking her head as she sat down next to Ryan. “Well, I’m glad you two could make it. It’s been a while.”

You smiled, relieved that the worst of it was over. “Yeah, it’s good to catch up. Even if Ben here had an... interesting conversation with Liam.”

Ryan chuckled, glancing at Ben. “So, how’s your visit been?”

Ben cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact. “It’s been... different.”

Georgia gave you a questioning look, clearly curious about the nuances of your relationship with Ben. You just shrugged, deciding to keep things light.

“Different is one way to put it,” you said, glancing at Ben. “But it’s been good.”

You and Ben trudged back into the apartment, the door clicking shut behind you with a familiar thud. The evening had been a whirlwind of awkward interactions and half-baked explanations, and you were more than ready to escape into the solace of your own space. Ben, still visibly perturbed by the entire experience, tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter and slouched against it with a sigh.

“Well, that was a goddamn circus,” he muttered, reaching for the bottle of whiskey you both kept in the cupboard. He poured himself a generous glass, taking a long swig before turning to face you. “Never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad to be back here.”

You leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and tried to shake off the strange discomfort that had lingered from the visit. Your thoughts had been preoccupied with a myriad of things throughout the evening—your niece’s sweetness, the kids’ innocent curiosity, and a gnawing sense of something unspoken.

Ben caught your distant look and raised an eyebrow. “Something on your mind?”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance as you grabbed a glass for yourself and poured a modest amount of whiskey. The amber liquid swirled inside the glass, offering a brief distraction from the conversation you were about to dive into. “Just thinking. That’s all.”

Ben took another sip, clearly not buying your casual demeanor. “Thinking about what? Don’t tell me you’re still stuck on how I handled the kid’s question about sex.”

You winced slightly, the memory still vivid. “Not exactly. Just… other things.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed, his expression softening with a touch of genuine curiosity. “Like what?”

You hesitated, weighing whether or not to dive into the topic. The conversation about kids had been avoided during the visit, and it wasn’t exactly a subject you were eager to tackle. But Ben’s probing look made it clear he wasn’t going to let it slide.

“Well, since you asked,” you said, taking a deep breath and settling into a nearby chair. “I was just thinking about… if we’d ever wanted kids.”

Ben’s face twisted in thought as he settled into the chair opposite you, his posture casual but attentive. “Kids, huh? Funny you mention that. I’ve definitely thought about it before.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You have?”

Ben nodded, taking another swig from his glass. “Yeah. Back when I was with Marjorie, we had these… grand plans, you know? The whole family thing. Thought it’d be great to have a kid or two running around. But then life happened, and… well, I guess that’s not on the cards anymore.”

You nodded, a touch of sadness flickering across your face despite your efforts to stay composed. “Yeah, life happens.”

There was a brief silence as Ben stared into his glass, the room filled with the soft clinking of ice. You could sense the weight of his unspoken regrets and the path his life had taken, and it struck a chord with you. But you were far more adept at masking emotions than Ben, and you focused on maintaining your tough exterior.

“Did you ever want kids?” Ben asked, breaking the silence, his eyes still fixed on his drink.

You hesitated, your fingers gripping the edge of your glass a little tighter. “I don’t know. I never really thought much about it.”

Ben raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Never? Not even when you were younger?”

You shook your head, forcing a casual tone despite the tightness in your chest. “Not really. Things were always so… unpredictable. I guess I never thought I’d have a stable enough life to think about having kids.”

Ben leaned forward, his expression softening. “You know, I always figured you’d be great with kids. You’ve got that… protective streak.”

You looked away, feeling a pang of unease. “Yeah, well, things don’t always work out the way you plan.”

Ben took another drink, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrent of tension. “True enough. But sometimes, it’s worth thinking about what might have been, you know? Even if it’s just for a moment.”

You nodded, the words hitting closer to home than you’d expected. “Yeah, I suppose.”

The conversation fell into another silence, the clinking of glasses and the faint hum of the city outside filling the void. You took a sip of your whiskey, trying to steady your nerves as you thought about the life you’d lived and the choices you’d made.

Ben broke the silence with a chuckle. “You know, I think we’d have made a hell of a team if we’d ever decided to have kids.”

You managed a wry smile. “Yeah? How’s that?”

He grinned, leaning back in his chair with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Well, you’d be the strict one, keeping them in line, and I’d be the one teaching them how to break the rules.”

You chuckled despite yourself, shaking your head. “Yeah, I can see that.”

Ben’s grin widened. “You’d have made a great mom, you know.”

The compliment, however casual it was, made you stiffen. You took a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. “Thanks. I suppose.”

Ben seemed to pick up on the shift in your mood, though he didn’t comment on it directly. Instead, he just took another drink and studied you with a thoughtful look. “But hey, we’re still here, still kicking. And that’s something.”

You nodded, managing a small smile. “Yeah. That’s something.”

The conversation drifted away from the topic of kids as you both delved into more trivial matters, the evening winding down with a sense of settled familiarity. But the discussion had left you with a lot to think about. Ben’s offhand remarks about children and what could have been stirred up old emotions, ones you weren’t entirely prepared to confront.

As the night wore on and you both settled into a more relaxed routine, the weight of the earlier conversation lingered, a reminder of the paths you’d taken and the choices you’d made. And while Ben seemed content to move on, you found yourself grappling with the implications of what might have been, even as you masked your thoughts with a veneer of nonchalance.

Fuck.

©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

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