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hellsburners · 1 year

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test drive nothing

summary: Your date is a fucking asshole so you find two lovely men who are willing to make it up to you. pairing: matt murdock x male reader x peter parker word count: 3.2k warnings: 18+ warning, alcohol use, some rude guy at a club, threesomes, top!matt, top!peter, bottom!reader, gay sex, semi-public stuff a bit, eiffel towered reader iykwim a/n: sorry for the delay didnt feel good for the past few days, anyway i hope yall like this idk what i was doing with this but if you liked it interractions are very much welcome and appreciated.

masterlist | more matt | more peter

gif credit for peter & matt

Heat rose up from your toes to your head. Music blasting from speakers left and right, neon streams of strobing light lit the dark room. People dancing around and drinking. It’ll be fine, you thought. It was your first time in this club, a Grindr match invited you here so you could hang. You were scanning the room for him, his pic showed a lean man with blonde hair and blue eyes on a beach in California.

You here? You messaged him. Well, you’ve been messaging him the same question for the past hour, no response. Your cheeks turned red from the anxiety. You nape, turning stiff and sore.

“Hey,” an arm caresses yours. It was him, he was wearing a black tank top tucked into cargo pants. “So, you ordered a drink?” You shook your head, he called on the bartender and gave you a drink suggestion. Since you weren’t much of a drinker you went with his choice, vodka martini.

The two of you talked for a few minutes, catching up on typical first date things. You found out that he was a doctor for MetroGen, he liked hockey, and he has a pet dog. He was now a few inches from you, his breath reeking of alcohol, his light blue eyes piercing yours. He tried to inch closer to you, to kiss you. Feeling like he was being too fast you pulled back.

“Maybe we should go dance?” you asked, standing up from the bar stool. He reluctantly agrees. You gesture to the dance floor. The two of you walk towards the building crowd. You were bumping onto bodies left and right. You were holding your drink, trying not to spill it. A man with brown hair bumps into you, you almost spilled the drinks from the tight space. He told you he was fine and left smiling. You thought of his face, it felt familiar.

“Hey you coming?” your date says, starting to dance. You joined him, slowly feeling into the fast beat of the music. He places an arm at your lower back. Your hands to his shoulders. Your hips moving left and right. He stares at different men passing you by, his gaze on them rather than you.

You see a guy wink at him and he winks back. You thought he was just friendly, he seemed to be the type. He knew people in the club and he’d greet them left and right. You felt isolated. You look around, people dancing and laughing, it suffocates you. Your hands started to jitter around the glass, you almost felt it slip.

“I think I’m gonna go—” you gestured for the restroom. He grabs your wrist and pulls you back. His arm wrapped tightly across your back. His grip was firm, he reeked so bad of alcohol you hadn't noticed he was actually so drunk from earlier. “Please, let me go. You’re making me uncomfortable.”

He starts to initiate a kiss. You push him away, he doesn’t budge.

“Come on now babe, we haven’t had much fun yet,” he whispers to your ear, you cringe from his disgusting tone. A hand pulls his arm away. The weight lifted off of you.

“He said let go, man,” someone says, it was the brunette from earlier. Your date shrieks from the man’s grip. You see his fingers almost crush his wrist. His brown eyes were stern, his brows furrowed.

“Piss off! That’s my date,” he tries to reach for you. The brunette pushes you aside gently, blocking you away from him. Your date pushes the brunette, taunting him. He tries to take a punch toward the man protecting you, he blocks it. The guy tried to lunge further, to take the brunette by the collar and slam him. You see the brunette clutch his fists, his nails burying in his palms. Too bad for your date the bouncer came in and ushered him out. He went out screaming and cursing.

“You okay?” the brunette said. He gestured for you to go back to the bar and grab some water.

“Yeah, fucking prick,” you said soothing your wrist before taking a sip of ice cold water. The shock releases your skin of all the tension. “Knew that app was a hell hole.”

“Met him from Grindr, huh?” he asked, you nodded reluctantly. Now that you were far from the strobe lights and all the different colors you could see his face clearly. You had seen his face before, not from earlier, but from somewhere years ago. Your face contorted to a confused look.

“Have we met before?” you asked,he smiles.

“Must be the glasses, ditched them years ago.” He points two fingers to his eyes.

“Oh my god from high school! I know your name I swear,” you tried to search your brain for a name, or the first letter at least.

“I bet you a million dollars you won’t remember my name, not really a popular guy in high school,” he chuckles. He takes a sip of coke, his arm resting on the bar counter. You close your eyes trying to search for the name.

“Peter Parker!” you shouted. “Venmo me a million dollars right now."

“Well give me your number so I can send it,” he takes out his phone. You smiled, you took his phone and typed the ten digits. “I’ll send it to ‘ya when I win the lottery.” The two of you laugh.

“Wanna dance?” you asked.

“You sure?” he said, looking confused.

“Yeah, can’t let one man ruin my night right?” you started backing up towards the dance floor. He was hesitant at frist, following you he takes your shoulder to guide him.

The two of you started to dance. The lights flood your eyes with different colors. You asked if you could put your hands on him, he nodded. You rest your hands on his shoulders. He asked the same question, you nodded as well. You guided his arms around your waist. He was gentle about it. The pressure was so light it felt like nothing.

You placed a hand on his handsome face, pushing his hair aside. “Do you want to kiss me? I think you wanna kiss me?” he whispered.

“You want to bet another million dollars on that?” you laughed.

Your lips meet, his soft lips warm on yours. He was everything the man earlier was not. Each step he asked for your consent. His hands were light on your body. His kiss was slow and gentle. He was simply a nice guy.

He told you that he forgot to mention he was actually meeting with a friend. You got shy thinking he was on a date and you now ruined it but he assured you it was just a friend. A few minutes of chatting led to the two of you laughing at each other’s jokes. It was around midnight already.

Peter called for someone behind you, you turned to see who it was and it was a man a bit older than him. He wore a black suit and a white shirt and he wore these ruby colored glasses. He was an attractive man, his mouth smirked as he waved at Peter.

“Hey, this is my friend Matt,” Peter says to your ear, the music almost making it inaudible. Matt smiles as Peter introduces you to him.

“Sorry for being late, work stuff,” you noticed his eyes behind the glasses focused above your head, never going your way. He’s blind, Peter mouths at you. Oh. Peter told you two to get to know each other as he gets more drinks.

“You from Midtown?” you asked.

“Hell’s Kitchen actually, I’m a lawyer,” he says. You told him about how you met Peter in high school.

“Oh, hence the corporate get-up, I dig it” you said, he laughs, his cheeks showing off his dimples.

Peter came back with three shot glasses. He hands you and Matt one. He offers a toast and the three of you bring your glasses to a clink. You down the shot, the liquid burning your throats. And the three of you took another shot, and another, and another.

You tap Matt’s shoulder gently. “Let’s dance some,” you say to him.

“Oh no, I don’t dance,” he puts the shot glass down. Waving his hands with hesitation.

“That’s not true, I saw you once!” Peter said, Matt pressed his palm on his mouth and made a shushing sound. The three of you were laughing hysterically.

“Oh come on do it for me,” you dragged the words. He loosens his tie and joins two of you.

Peter’s arm was around your shoulder as the two of you danced to the beat, your hips swaying. You held onto the hem of Matt’s sleeve pulling him in. He awkwardly tries to dance with the two of you. It was cute, you thought. Peter was now behind you, your back pressed to his chest. Matt playfully guided your hands to his shoulders, moving his body left and right. It was out of beat but it was the thought that counts.

Maybe it was alcohol, or the moment, or the fact that there were two very attractive men dancing with you, but you started to feel something. Like heat rising to your cheeks in a good way, your knees feeling weak. Peter placed a kiss on your nape. You ushered yourselves closer to Matt. Peter’s hand went to Matt’s waist pulling him into you.

Matt placed his arms in your waist, light but stern. You wrapped your arms around his neck. You could smell him, like sandalwood and musk. “You could ask him if you want to. I won’t mind,” Peter said, as if being able to read your mind.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked Matt. Your mind completely focused on the two men with you. Matt giggles and places a kiss on your lips. Peter’s kiss was soft, Matt’s was more heated, like his thick lips were sucking you in.

“So you two do this a lot?” You pointed at Matt and Peter.

“Only if the guy is cute.” Peter said.

“But the two of you?” you chuckled. Peter placed his hands on Matt’s cheek, whispering something in his ears. Matt nods and Peter places a kiss on Matt’s lips.

“That wasn’t too bad. Can’t believe we haven’t done that before Matt," he pats his back.

“Maybe we can take this party to my place?” Matt said. You looked at Peter, who was also looking at you. You both tell Matt yes. “Let me go get a cab.”

Now outside, Matt was hailing for a cab. The streets were cold. Peter wraps his arms around you. Body heat, he says. You go on your tiptoes to kiss him again. More feverish this time. You could feel his hardness press on your waist. “Sorry, I couldn't wait, this is so hot.”

Matt arrives, his brows raised in disbelief. A cab waiting for the three of you. Matt tugs on Peter’s collar and shoves him to the front seat. “You sit there and watch.”

You and Matt continue to make out in the back seat. His shirt was now untucked from his waist. His tie was long gone and his shirt opened a bit. He places soft wet kisses to your neck making you moan. The two of you could care less about what the cab driver thought.

Peter looks at the two of you from the rearview mirror, the erection in his pants stirring. He palms the damn thing. He really could not wait.

Matt’s hands came to your thigh, your hands peeking through the hem of his shirt, you could feel his bare skin, all warm and hard. The car slowed, you’ve arrived at Matt’s apartment. Peter pays, you and Matt hurrying to the front door. “Hey wait up!” Peter yelled.

While Matt was fumbling to get his keys Peter pulled you to him. “I’m starting to get jealous here,” he whispers.

“I want you both, so fucking bad.”

“Then you’ll have us,” he cups your face and kisses you again, his tongue meeting yours. His hand comes to your lower back, playing with the hem of your pants. His fingers slowly going underneath the fabric.

The door unlocks. “Door’s open, you two,” he takes his suit jacket off.

The three of you were undressing in Matt’s living room, stumbling from getting rid of tight shirts and long pants. You stare at their bodies both scarred, Peter was lean but still muscular, while Matt was more bulky. Their erections form tents in their boxers.

Peter sat down on the sofa, gesturing for you to sit on him. Matt sits next to him. God they were a sight. You ride Peter’s thigh. Your hands palming his torso. Peter touches your sex, you were also so hard. You whisper to Peter that you’d like to suck him off. He curses and nods.

You go down on your knees, pulling his boxers with you. His long cock springs up, the head a bright red. He points the tip to your lips, you give it kitten licks, the sensitive head throbbed from the motion.

Matt started to palm his boxers as you sucked Peter off. Your hand wanders to his hairy thighs. Matt releases his cock, it was shorter than Peter’s but still pretty big, what Peter lacked in girth Matt showed off more. You started to stroke his cock, your mouth still on Peter’s. The two men moaned, their eyes closed and their heads held back.

“Fuck you’re so good,” Peter coos. He takes you to sit on the couch, he goes down on his knees to pleasure you. With his mouth to your cock, Matt went on to leave kisses to your neck, his hand on Peter’s head, pushing him deeper. You moaned so much from it. Your hands go to Matt’s cock, now leaking with precum.

“I want to fuck you,” Peter said. You asked where the bedroom was and Matt led the two of you to his queen sized bed. Matt sat on the bed, his back to the headboard, you crawled to him and took him in your mouth, the girth filling your warm mouth. Peter massages your ass from the back. Matt jerked his hips making you choke a little, you moaned, your throat vibrating on Matt’s cock. “Moan louder pretty, Matt likes it a lot.”

Peter takes your underwear off. He parted your ass and began to lick in your hole. You moaned on Matt’s cock, he shuddered from the sudden wave of pleasure; he brushed his hand through your hair. “My god sweetheart you’re too good at this.”

You felt Peter’s shaft tapping against your whole. “Condoms?” he asked. Matt gestured for the bedside table. Peter went on to get them. You released Matt’s cock to look for him but he pulled you into a kiss.

“Peter’s gonna go first, is that okay?” Matt asked in between kisses. You nodded. Peter returned with condoms and a small bottle of lube. He places the condom on his cock, stroking it after with lube.

“‘You ready?” you nod. Peter slowly presses the tip to your whole, the tight muscle contracts around the head making it tighter.

“Relax for me baby,” Peter coos, rubbing his hands on your back. He fully sheathed himself in you. You felt so full and so good. Peter fucking you while your mouth was on Matt’s cock, it drove you crazy. Peter pulled you to his chest, one hand to your cock while the other teasing your nipples. Matt went to your cock and placed small licks to your shaft, precum dripping from your tip. Matt took you in, your cock hitting the back of his throat as Peter pounded you. Matt choked but kept going.

“You sound so good taking Peter,” Matt said, his lips swollen red. Your hands brushed through his hair. Peter fucked you so sensually any trace of stinging alleviated from your body. There was fluidity to the way he moved, like a dancer or a gymnast, all steady movement but still so graceful.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” Peter groaned.

You felt so close too. Your rhythm became erratic, more lazy and inert. He let out a few more thrusts, emptying inside you. You came on Matt’s lips. Your chest heaving, Peter gave you a kiss on your temple, whispering praises.

Matt wiped his lips, licking your cum and sucking on his fingers. “My turn,” Matt guided your back to the bed. He took your legs and placed them on both sides of his hips. His cock leaking with pre, he takes the condom packet and places a rubber on him as well, lubing it after.

You still felt weak from Peter, who was now cradling you in between his legs, your back to his. He is laying down with his back to the headboard resting for a bit. Matt slowly pressed himself into your hole, you groaned. Peter whispered words of comfort to your ears, brushing his hands through your hair as Matt moaned to the feeling of your hole around his cock.

Matt peppered you with kisses. His hands snaked around your body feeling every bit of skin, his fingertips tracing every crevice and every groove, every bit of fat and muscle. He looked so good, hips thrusting while his dark hair stuck to his forehead drenched in sweat. His mouth agape as he cursed, calling for God's name.

Peter’s hand went to your cock, now soft and a bit sore. He traced his fingertips on the wet slit, the sensitive tip made you writhe from the sensation. A few moments later you began to harden again. Peter spat on his palm and stroked your cock after. Your eyes closed from all the pleasure.

You felt your spirit lift from your body. These two men were bringing pleasures to your body you hadn’t known existed. You felt as if your body were ascending to heaven for a second there.

Matt bent down to give you a fevered kiss. Peter squeezed himself to the kiss. The three of you sharing your tongues and lips. Matt’s stubble pricked your cheeks but it didn’t matter. You felt yourself near another orgasm. You were now a sobbing mess between these two. Matt fucked you harder, you felt his orgasm nearing as well.

“I’m gonna cum,” you cried. Matt said he was close too, whining your name. Peter pumped your cock until your eyes closed from the pleasure, your hands gripping onto the sheets, your toes curled. Matt’s erratic rhythm came to a stop as he emptied his cum in the condom. Leaving you both a moaning mess.

The three of you shared one last kiss before crashing onto the bed. Matt went to the bathroom to get you a wet towel. Peter peppered your temples with kisses, whispering praises. Matt came back with the towel and helped you and Peter clean up, he took extra good care with cleaning your behind.

After that, the three of you laid naked on Matt’s bed, drenched in sweat. You felt yourself drift off to the night. Your head to Matt’s chest and Peter’s arms wrapped around you.

You wake up to the sound of frying and the smell of cooked bacon. You found yourself tucked in Matt’s blanket, with your boxers on and Matt’s shirt on you. You stood up, your back aching, and went to Matt’s small kitchen. You found the two boys cooking breakfast. It was Matt who noticed you first.

“Hungry?” he asked, finishing off frying eggs. Peter noticed who Matt was talking to and smiled. He walked towards you to give you a kiss on the forehead, his hands on a plate of bacon and some toast.

You smirked, very.

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

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to-thelakes · 6 months

Text

exhausted

pairing; frank castle x fem!reader (mentions of matt murdock)

summary; after you lose your cool at matt and frank, frank comes to see you and helps you get some much-needed rest

warnings; initial angst, a smidge of hurt/comfort, fluff, domestic frank castle, soft frank castle, exhausted reader, insomniac reader, discussion of nightmares

notes; this one-shot is an oldie but a goodie, i keep reading back and looking at some one-shots i've previously written and i think this one is good enough that i can share it with the world, i wrote it initially with sharing it in mind so i might as well do it! also this one-shot thingie was inspired by a one-shot i saw here on tumblr, the beginning of this is pretty similar to the one i read so if anyone knows what fic i'm referencing, i'd love to be able to credit who inspired this! otherwise, this is just some comforting frank content because i am an avid insomniac and sometimes you just need the big scary punisher to help you fall asleep

masterlist

You weren’t entirely sure how it had happened but at some point between knowing Matt and Frank, you had become their nurse. Of course, you didn’t particularly mind. Matt had always been kind to you and you enjoyed his company. He was a little flirty but you were used to it and you could lament in your misery with him.

With Frank, he had saved you from some criminals months ago and you had been freaking out. He did his best to calm you down before walking you home and after a particularly bad night, Matt brought Frank to you to patch up. Honestly, you didn’t mind their company and you didn’t mind patching them up.

Ever since you’d moved on from being a Nurse, you’d refound your passion for caring for people but only if it was Frank or Matt. But you also hated taking care of them. Despite having a relatively normal life and sleep schedule compared to when you were a nurse, you were still woken up in the middle of the night by them.

It had been a quiet night for you. You’d finished work and curled up on your bed to drift off and you had. It had been a blissful sleep until you were rudely awoken by your phone ringing. You wanted to tell whoever it was to leave you the fuck alone but when you saw it was Matt, you answered. He asked if you could come over and help patch Frank and him up.

You - reluctantly - agreed since he was only a block over. You didn’t want them bloody up your apartment and so with a great huff, you got out of bed. You changed into comfortable clothes and then grabbed your kit for nights like these and headed to Matt’s place.

Getting in wasn’t hard even in your exhausted and sleepy daze. You managed to find your way up to the fire escape where the two men were sitting. Well, Frank was sat, leaning against the vent, cradling a wound while Matt stood. He was pacing in his Daredevil costume and he looked frustrated. It was practically radiating off of him.

They both looked pretty bruised and yet, they were still arguing. It took you a minute to catch on to the conversation but the second you did you sighed.

“You gotta let me do my shit, altar boy. I don’t give a shit what you can sense, I know what I’m doing and we would have been fine if you hadn’t stopped me from doing my goddamn job,” Frank raged as he stared up at Matt. His hand was pressed against the wound on his side and yet his jaw still flexed with obvious annoyance.

“If you had just listened to me then we would have been fine! You never listen, I can hear more than you can. I can hear their guns, Frank. If you had just shut your damn mouth for one goddamn second, it would have been fine!” Matt snapped in response. His annoyance was radiating off of him and you just looked between them. You weren’t entirely convinced that even of them had realised you were there but you knew Matt could smell you.

“I listen fucking plenty. I knew what I was getting my sorry ass into but you just have to be the fucking saviour, don’t you Red? Always a hero,” Frank scoffed. His tone was scathing and he winced when the pain only seemed to get worse. The irritation that Matt waking you up had began only seemed to grow as you listened to them continue to bicker back and forth about who was right and who was responsible for Frank’s wound. And why Red just couldn’t have listened to Frank for one goddamn minute.

It was probably five minutes of bickering and you had finally had enough. You dropped your kit bag onto the floor and suddenly, both of their attentions snapped to you.

“You are both so insufferable!” You snapped suddenly, glaring between the two men, “I get my ass out of bed after working all fucking day for you two to be bickering like three-year-olds over something that doesn’t fucking matter anymore. Take my shit and patch yourself up. I’m done with this.” Your anger only seemed to grow and you watched as both Matt and Frank’s face fell. You stepped back from the pair of them, “Ungrateful bastards,” You muttered as you headed back to the fire escape and towards Matt’s apartment.

“Hey(!), sweetheart,” Frank’s voice made you pause in your steps. If his next words weren’t an apology, you were going to scream, “Don’t gotta be so fucking moody. Didn’t even see ya.” That was it and you turned on your heel to face them again.

“I couldn’t give a shit if you didn’t see me Frank. I know sure as hell that Matt could smell me before I even got onto the fucking roof. And I’m sure his senses will tell him that I haven’t showered in three days because I’ve been so busy with my new fucking workload that I have barely had the chance to take care of myself. This is the first evening that I haven’t had to work late for my asshole boss and I finally managed to get some sleep until you assholes had to wake me up because you can never work together! I honestly don’t care what happens to you next time. If one of you gets bloody and bruised, don’t fucking call me. Lose my number, both of you.” And with that final word, you walked off the roof and down to Matt’s apartment. You felt like crying, the irritation had seeped into frustration and the tears were blurring your vision as you pulled the apartment door open.

“Sweetheart,” Matt’s voice was so soft as he rushed over to you in the doorway. Your head snapped up so that he could look at you or you assumed he was, you could tell where he was looking with that stupid mask on, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called,” Matt’s voice had softened significantly as he was looking at you.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have,” You bit back. Matt’s lips turned down into a frown. He suddenly had no idea what to say. He had never seen you like this. Even when you were stressed and overworked as a nurse, you always had this sunny disposition to everything that you did. This was new, he hated it because he knew it was his fault.

“Please, how can I fix this?” Matt asked and you rolled your eyes. The apartment door still open in front of you.

“I told you, lose my number,” You snapped. Matt frowned but before he could even say anything, you were gone. He let out a frustrated huff and he listened as you walked to the elevator and disappeared down to street-level. He didn’t know what to do now.

The weekend eventually rolled around and you were relaxing for the first time in a very long time. You were curled up on the couch, watching trash TV with a pizza from your favourite take-out on the coffee table. It was the ideal day.

Well, that was until you heard a knock at your apartment door. A soft huff escaped your lips and you unfurled yourself from your cocoon of blankets to answer it. When you pulled the door open, the last person you expected stood on the other side. Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in Frank Castle in all his broad glory with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Your favourite flowers no doubt. You didn’t even know what to say.

“Ya said don’t call,” Frank began and then he held out the flowers, “So I came over instead.” There was a slight softness to his words and it made you let out a soft chuckle. You shook your head but took the bouquet from his hands.

“Thank you,” You mumbled before gesturing for him to come in. The trashy TV show you had on was playing as you grabbed a vase from under the sink and ripped the wrapping from around the flowers. You then grabbed some scissors from the drawer and Frank watched as you snipped the ends at a diagonal and placed them into the water before adding the packet of food.

“M’sorry about the other night,” Frank said after a few beats of silence. You shrugged and rearranged the flowers and when you were happy enough with them, you took them over to the windowsill to replace the faux flowers you had put there weeks ago, “I really appreciate everything’ ya do for me,” He said as he watched you move. You shrugged and wrapped your arms around yourself, moving to sit down on your sofa. You didn’t want to have this conversation.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” You said firmly. Frank sighed and he glanced at the door, not sure whether you wanted him to leave or stay. You glanced back at him expectantly and so he walked over, sitting down on the couch beside you. You grabbed a slice of pizza and offered it to him. He found himself smiling as he took it from your hands.

“M’really sorry, I didn’t-” But before Frank could get any further you put your hand up to silence him. Then your gaze turned on him and he looked back at you.

“Frank, I seriously don’t wanna think about it. Just eat your pizza and shut up,” You told him as you reached out for another slice for yourself. He grunted in response and you seemed pleased with that. You shuffled back, pulling blankets over your shoulder with your free hand before you took a bite out of the pizza. Frank was sitting on one of the blankets on the sofa but you didn’t bother to say anything as you ate.

Your gaze was fixed on the TV. There was about to be an elimination from the show and although you didn’t care for many of the contestants, there was one guy that you wanted to get kicked out. He had the most infuriating personality and had treated every girl like an object since he had been introduced. He rubbed you the wrong way and so, you watched with bated breath to see if he would finally be kicked out.

And he was. Frank noticed the victorious grin on your face as he leaned over for another slice of pizza. You let him grab it as you finished your slice off. Then you shuffled on the sofa and adjusted the blankets around your shoulder again.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” You broke the silence between the pair of you. The sound of the TV was the only thing that was filling the air until that.

He glanced over at you before he shook his head, letting out a grunt of disagreement. You nodded and then pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulder, “I’ve had a really stressful week at work, I’ve not been sleeping well and I thought that when I quit my job at Metro General my late nights would end. That I would be able to sleep properly again. But you and Matt changed that and I don’t mind. I usually don’t mind at all but this week, I just- I couldn’t do it. I had dragged myself out of sleep which I had barely been able to get into and then you both just bickered. And I really don’t mind helping either of you. I like helping you both but I just can’t do it right now.”

You were rambling, you knew you were rambling but you felt like Frank deserved an explanation. He was injured and you had left him to be stitched up by Matt. It felt cruel but you were also exhausted. Not even by them, just by life.

“You don’t gotta explain,” Frank said after a beat. You looked up at him, he had a sorrowful look on his face. It was almost guilty-looking and you didn’t want him to feel guilty. A soft huff escaped your lips as you ran your fingers across your face.

“No, I do because I didn’t have to blow up at you guys. I didn’t have to be so rude. I could have just left but I made a scene and it wa-” Frank cut you off before you got a chance to finish your sentence.

“Ya had every right to shout. We dragged you outta bed for somethin’ that we coulda handled on our own. You were angry and shit, I woulda said worse. You can’t bottle that shit up, you know?” He responded as he looked down at you. You let out a soft sigh, running your fingers through your hair. You didn’t know what to even say.

“I’m just so tired, Frank,” You mumbled. It had been weighing on you all week and it was the first time you had let yourself admit it. You were so exhausted. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. The tension in the room seemed to increase tenfold at the submission and Frank was silently observing you as you reached for a pizza slice, hoping to distract your exhaustion-addled mind. It was too much.

“Lie down for a bit, yeah?” He said and you looked up at him, confusion etched across your features. Almost bemused by his words.

“I’ve tried that Frank. Plus, it’s too early,” You mumbled before you took a bite of your pizza. He shook his head and closed the pizza box on the coffee table. He then reached for the TV remote and he switched it off.

“Nah, enough of this shit. We’re gonna lie down and I’ll make sure you get some goddamn sleep. alright?” There was no room to argue with him and as he stood up, looming above you, you weren’t entirely sure you had the bravery to. So, you simply nodded your head. You placed the half-eaten pizza slice into the box and then got to your feet, leaving your cocoon of blankets on the sofa so you could go to bed, “You gonna brush your teeth?” He asked. You nodded your head. Even though you had just eaten, you had to make sure that they were brushed before you went to bed and so, Frank lingered in the doorway as you brushed your teeth, “Red’s gonna give you shit when he finds out about this, sweetheart,” Frank commented off-handedly. You spat some toothpaste into the sink before you glanced over at him.

“He can smell when I last showered, I think he already knows,” You muttered before you finished brushing your teeth. You grabbed the towel and washed the toothpaste off your mouth, washing your mouth out with water before you stepped back. You were already in pyjamas so you were ready for bed.

“Yeah, that’s what he tells ya,” Frank mumbled as you headed towards your bedroom. Frank slipped his boots off at the foot of your bed and discarded his jacket on top of your dresser before he glanced over at you.

“Are you sleeping in the bed too?” You asked tentatively. Frank turned to look at you, cocking an eyebrow.

“That a problem?” He asked curiously. You shook your head and he nodded, “You been gettin’ nightmares?” His question caught you completely off-guard and you just stared at him, dumb-founded from the side of your bed. He huffed out in mild amusement, “You were an ER nurse, gives its own scars,” He shrugged. You sighed and rubbed your hands across your face.

“It’s not nightmares. It’s just not dreams either. I can just hear flatlining and feel blood and I’m running down corridors, plagued by the clean smell of the hospital. It’s sterile and I wake up and I swear I can smell it,” You mumbled, trying your best to explain the experiences. You hated calling them nightmares because nothing scary happened. It was just your feelings and memories of the place you used to love.

“You wake up scared?” He asked as he walked over to the opposite side of the bed. You nodded your head, “Then it’s a nightmare. When did your dirtbag ex break up with you?” You didn’t seem to understand how that correlated but it had been only a month ago. It coincided with the exact time you began to have issues sleeping.

“A month ago. I’ve not been a nurse for months. Why is that relevant?” You asked as you decided to pull the covers back but you didn’t get in.

“You’re sleeping alone, sweetheart. Does things to you especially when you’re not used to,” He stated blankly. It seemed to dawn on you why he knew this and you just stared at him for a moment, not sure whether to apologise or offer sympathy but he didn’t give you a chance, “Now let’s get you some sleep, hm?” You smiled thankfully and slipped under the covers. Frank slipped under them beside you and you pulled them up to your shoulder.

Then you grabbed onto the pillow, adjusting it under your head. Frank was facing you, his hands resting in front of him as yours rested under your head. He watched you adjust and get comfortable before you let out a sigh.

“I always hated sleeping alone,” You mumbled after a moment of silence, “When I was a kid, my little brother would always get nightmares and so we’d sleep in the same bed. Then, by the time he had grown out of that habit, I was old enough that I was going to high school and my parents began to - reluctantly - let my partner stay over. Then, I went to college and I basically spent every night with someone in my bed whether that was a friend or someone I was dating. I never really got used to sleeping alone, I guess.” Although Frank didn’t have the exact same feeling as you as he had slept alone plenty of times while he was on tours, he understood what you meant. After he lost Maria, he found it impossible to sleep alone. The nightmares tormented him. It got better with time but never really truly better. It’s the main reason why he pushed his body to the point of collapse. Then he didn’t have to worry about trying to fall asleep alone. It just happened because his body didn’t give him a choice. You had started to do the same.

“Just try and get some sleep tonight, yeah?” He suggested. You nodded and you let your eyes fall closed. He shifted on the bed before he let his eyes close as well. You sighed and felt your eyes forcing themselves back open. They didn’t want to stay closed and after a few more minutes of desperately trying to keep them closed, you rolled onto your back.

And you stared at the ceiling like you had for so many nights over the past few months. You were never able to sleep, when you woke up from sleep, you just stared. You had memorised every crack in the shitty ceiling and now there was nothing new to look at. You didn’t know what was wrong with you but you hated it.

“Hey,” Frank said softly. It was so quiet that you almost missed it and then you turned your head to the side to look at him, “You gotta tell me what ya need if I’m gonna help,” You knew what you needed but you weren’t about to ask Frank for it. This was already crossing the bounds of your friendship and you felt almost disrespectful even doing this but he seemed insistent. His eyes were burning into the side of your head.

“My ex used to…” You trailed off, not sure whether to say it. Frank grunted in a somewhat encouraging way as he shuffled towards you, “They used to cuddle with me when I couldn’t sleep and they’d… God I can’t ask this of you.” You cut yourself off before you could finish your sentence. Your hands pressed over your face, embarrassment flooding your face in the form of heat crawling up your neck and across your cheeks. This was too much.

“Hey, hey, listen to me,” He brought your hands away from your face and you turned to look at him, meeting his soft gaze, “I don’t give a shit if it’s embarrassing, tell me.” His words were firm and you sighed, taking a deep breath before you turned over onto your side so that you could look at him properly again.

“They’d like hold me against their chest, like my forehead against their chest and then they’d run their fingers across my arm. It just always relaxed me,” You finally admitted. Frank smiled softly, not even caring what you were asking of him. Instead, he shuffled forward on the bed and brought you towards him.

“Come ‘ere,” He mumbled. You shuffled into him and with a tentative breath, you rested your forehead against his chest. One of his hands rested under his head while the other moved to rest against the back of your arm. He drew you closer and you gave in, letting your body mold against his. His fingers slowly began to trace along the skin on the back of your arm.

A soft breath of relief escaped your lips, the familiar touch cooled your nervous system in seconds. Your eyes fell closed, tension releasing at the movements as you moved your arms around Frank. Your hand draped over his hip as you felt exhaustion return to your body after you had fought it away all day.

“Thank you,” You muttered under your breath. Your voice was slower than before, sleep ready to take you as you relaxed into his hold.

“Sleep well, sweetheart,” He mumbled against your hair as he rested against you. His touch against your skin was the last thing you remembered before the bliss of sleep took you in.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #frank castle x you #frank castle fluff #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x female reader #the punisher fluff #the punisher x reader #reader-insert #matt murdock #daredevil

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pufflehuffing · 6 months

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Getting You Off Is My New Favourite Hobby. 🔞 - Sebastian Sallow

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader genre: smut, mdni (everyone is 18+) warning: slight pining/hook-up ✧ cunnilingus ✧ mutual masturbation ✧ virgin!Sebastian ✧ voyeurism ✧ unprotected sex ✧ missionary ✧ sideways ✧ cumming inside summary: After helping the new girl unpack her trunk, Sebastian can't help the raging hard-on in his trousers. As though struck by luck, he walks into a sight that reveals he wasn't the only one needing release after a tense meeting. word count: 12.4k my masterlist.

In the blue glow Slytherin common room, Sebastian paced in front of the fireplace, idly flipping through a spellbook. As you, a new student, entered with your heavy-looking trunk, his attention snapped to you like a spell cast. Mesmerised by your presence, he couldn't resist the urge to approach, his heart racing with intrigue and curiosity. With a confident stride, he tossed his book, eager to initiate a conversation and get to know you.

You stumble in with your trunk held up with both hands, arms straight from carrying the heavy load. You plop it down on the stone floor and take a breather. You lean against a pillar and look around, taking in the scenery, when you notice a brunet boy approaching the entrance. You don't think much of it, guessing that he was probably on his way out, so you scoot the trunk out of the way. As Sebastian approached, his heart pounded even louder against his chest, every fibre of his being drawn to you. He couldn't contain his excitement now that he finally had the chance to speak with you. His gaze flickered over your figure, appreciating the way you held yourself despite the burden of the trunk. But before he could utter a word, you made room for him to pass, seemingly oblivious to the effect you had on him. His brows furrowed slightly as he wondered if perhaps you didn't notice his interest.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Sebastian quickly adjusted his focus. Instead of mentioning his attraction, he decided to offer assistance with your heavy belongings. "Allow me," he said gently, reaching out to take some of the burden from your hands. The weight of the trunk was surprisingly substantial, but he managed it effortlessly as he walked it towards a nearby empty spot near the couches. He dusted off his palms, trying to conceal his nerves, and offered you a winning smile. "Welcome to Slytherin, by the way. My name is Sebastian Sallow, your local duelling expert.”

As you glanced up to thank the boy for helping with the trunk, you froze in place, struck by the pure force of his magnetic gaze. Your eyes widened at the sight of the brunet up close and your heart skipped a beat as you took in his charming features and alluring confidence. He exuded an aura that was impossible to ignore, making your cheeks flush with heat. Swallowing nervously, you forced out a weak smile and murmured your thanks, grateful for his assistance. "You did that without breaking a sweat. Impressive," you blurted out while attempting to regain your composure. You hesitated for a moment, cursing yourself mentally and glancing around before finding the courage to address the captivating presence in the room. "Sorry, I must have seemed rude earlier, I… I didn't catch that you were approaching. I'm usually not so lost in my own thoughts." A nervous laugh escaped you as you extended your hand, hoping to make amends. "Pleased to meet you.”

Sebastian felt an unexpected jolt as you apologised, undeniably attracted to your vulnerability. Your admission only fueled his fascination, making him feel even more drawn to you. He grinned in response, his eyes gleaming with amusement and admiration. "No need to apologise; I've come across many who forget their manners in my presence," he quipped playfully before gripping your hand and giving it a firm shake. His fingers lingered just a second longer than necessary, savouring the warmth from your touch.

His gaze never wavered from yours, and he could sense the tension building between you. Feeling bold, he decided it was worth a shot. "Is there something you'd like help with? Perhaps unpacking or navigating the castle since it's your first day?" The words tumbled out of his mouth, his voice low and inviting, hinting at his genuine intentions to help and spend more time with you already.

A wave of relief washed over you as Sebastian offered assistance. Exhaustion from your journey overwhelmed you, and having help sounded like an absolute dream. However, the idea of spending time alone with him in your dormitory sent a ripple of excitement and anxiety coursing through your veins. Your gaze swayed between his captivating eyes and your shoes, feeling embarrassed at the thought of him seeing your personal belongings.

"That would be amazing," you managed to stammer out, still struggling with the conflicting emotions surging through you. Your eyes flickered nervously between him and the trunk, contemplating the prospect of him seeing your things. Finally, you summoned the courage to voice your hesitation. "But, um, maybe your help isn't really required. I mean, it's just… my clothes and books. Nothing interesting." You bit your lip, realising how silly you might sound, but unable to help the sentiment. There was just something about exposing yourself like that to a stranger that made you uneasy, even though your attraction to Sebastian was growing stronger by the minute.

Sebastian felt his face flush as he realised he'd hit a nerve. Yet rather than letting it deter him, he leaned in closer, towering over the trunk with an air of nonchalance. "Nothing strange here, I promise," he assured you, his voice velvety smooth. "Just a helping hand. After all, you need to settle in comfortably, and I happen to be quite skilled at that sort of thing." His teasing smile never faltered, but beneath it lay a genuine concern for your ease. Suddenly remembering his sister, he thought it would be a perfect opportunity to introduce a part of himself that wasn't known to everyone yet. "Plus, having a twin sister, I've seen more than my fair share of wardrobes. No judgement from me, trust me." With that, he shot you a reassuring nod, attempting to dispel any residual doubt while maintaining a lighthearted tone. In truth, the thought of intimacy piqued his curiosity, but he knew it was best to tread lightly at this stage.

Your eyebrows arched slightly at Sebastian's revelation of his twin sister. This newfound information added another layer of intrigue to him, making your heart race even faster. You appreciated the attempt at easing your concerns, feeling slightly more comfortable with the idea of him assisting you. Gathering your nerves once again, you nodded and shifted your stance in expectation. "Okay, then. Thanks for understanding. If you could help place them where I usually keep them, that'd be great." There was a hint of gratitude mixed with apprehension in your voice. Despite your uncertainty, there was something irresistibly appealing about allowing Sebastian into this private aspect of your life.

Sebastian's face flushed a deeper shade of pink as you agreed, and he hastily picked up the trunk, his fingers grazing yours for a brief second as you went to do the same. The warmth from your touch sent a shiver down his spine, leaving him even more flustered than before. "Room number, please?" He asked in a raspy whisper, attempting to conceal his embarrassment. Each interaction seemed to make him crave more, and yet, he fought to maintain decorum. The anticipation of entering your dormitory filled him with equal parts excitement and dread, but it was evident that he wouldn't trade this experience for anything else. Pacing himself, he waited for your response while holding the trunk securely, his eyes still locked onto yours.

With a deep breath to steady your nerves, you recited your dorm room number, feeling the warmth spread across your cheeks as you spoke. Sebastian's casual demeanour amidst the burgeoning awkwardness was endearing, and you found yourself reflecting on the contrast between his appearance and his strength. His hair was unkempt yet sexy, framing his sharp eyes, and those freckles dotted across his nose gave him an almost boyish charm. Despite the butterflies in your stomach, and the unexpected nature of these feelings, you decided that maybe it was worth indulging in this connection. After all, first impressions were important, and you couldn't shake off the magnetic pull toward him. Following closely behind, he led the way to your assigned room in Slytherin's quarters, balancing a mix of trepidation and anticipation.

Upon reaching your room, he gently pushed open the door and gestured for you to step inside first. Still surprisingly, he carried the heavy trunk with minimal effort, mirroring his assertion of being well-acquainted with caretaking tasks. As you entered, his eyes trailed up and down your body, assessing your every curve with hidden desire. He couldn't help but appreciate the sight before him—from your graceful movements to the playful bounce in your steps. He was acutely aware of his attraction but tried to mask it as professional curiosity, pretending to analyse the layout instead. "Which corner would you prefer for your bed, love?" he queried, still battling to control his impulses. He shifted the trunk between his hands while waiting for your answer, resisting the urge to swallow the lump forming in his throat.

You felt your cheeks burn as Sebastian casually referred to you as "love," catching you completely off guard. The warmth spread across your face, heightening the sensation of being watched. Despite his amateur attempt to dismiss it as an accident, the nickname cut straight to your core, stirring unexpected feelings within you. He sensed your reaction, and panic set in. He quickly diverted the conversation back to practical matters, realising that words could be powerful indeed. His smooth facade shattered, replaced with sheepish nervousness. "Damn, I meant… uh, which side do you want to sleep on?" He stuttered, desperately trying to regain composure while setting the trunk down gently beside the vacant beds.

As he sought to rectify his blunder, his gaze lingered on your lovely blush, further entangled in the enigma that was you. Suddenly, it became clear that things weren't as simple as he'd imagined. You decided on one of the beds and walked towards it, the vibrancy of your blush still persisting. As you fluffed the pillow, running your fingers over its soft fabric, your gaze traced the lines of the dormitory. The wallpaper, the furniture, everything felt much more intimate now with Sebastian around. You wondered if he noticed the significance of that affectionate term he had used earlier or if it was merely a slip. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, Sebastian struggled to maintain his composure. He discreetly adjusted himself, fighting the rock-hard erection that insisted on reminding him of its presence. Your proximity, coupled with the soft rustling of the pillow, created an environment charged with stimuli. He couldn't ignore the signs anymore—his body was acutely attuned to you. Inhibiting a groan, he nodded and swiftly moved to pick up the trunk again, hoping that handling tasks would distract from the rising desire.

Without warning, Sebastian dropped the heavy trunk onto the bed you had chosen, causing it to bounce slightly on the mattress as the bed frame croaked loudly. An involuntary whimper escaped your lips, startled by the sudden movement, yet also conscious of its suggestiveness. The impact reverberated throughout the room, punctuating the air with an electrifying tension. He froze, horrified by his lack of finesse and the effect it had on you. His breath caught in his throat, watching as you winced slightly. He willed himself not to look at your lips, praying you hadn't turned rosy from the whimper. Quickly gathering his wits, he forced a laugh. "Oh, sorry! Can't seem to remember my own strength sometimes.”

Swallowing nervously, you reached for the latches of your trunk, timidly opening it with a bit more caution than usual. Inside lay a jumble of tangled clothes, relics of home, and personal belongings. Relief washed over you as you spotted your knickers skillfully hidden beneath textbooks. Thank Merlin you had packed meticulously! Silently thanking your organised self, you tamed any fears of humiliation. Turning to Sebastian, you offered a small smile, hoping to defuse the situation before it escalated further. "Thanks for your help," you said softly, choosing not to mention the unfortunate incident with the trunk.

Before you could fully drag the open trunk towards you, a glimpse of dark red lace peeked from the tumble of clothes, lying tantalisingly near the edge. Sebastian's eyes widened momentarily, taking note of the scarlet scrap before you hastened to cover it again. A slow grin crept across his face, revealing teeth stained by guilt and amusement. "Careful," he chuckled, moving swiftly to help you arrange the books and clothes, effectively hiding the incriminating piece of evidence. "Those books can stack rather precariously." Unsure whether to be dismayed or amused by the coincidence, you complied with his assistance, staying silent as you tidied up. An electric current pulsed between you—the small revelation sparking curiosity and a touch of naughtiness. His hands brushed past yours, sending shivers down your spine. Classic literature never felt so scandalous.

You agreed, handing over the books as your heart pounded faster. The heat from his palm seeped into yours, branding your senses with his aura. With quick efficiency, you tucked away your undergarment amongst your clothes, ensuring they wouldn't make another embarrassing cameo. Quietly, you busied yourself sorting through your unpacked items, unable to meet his gaze. "Could you place those on the desk there? Thanks," you murmured sheepishly, nodding towards a wooden table nearby.

The silence stretched between you, filled with countless unsaid words and suppressed nervous laughter. Sebastian's gaze lingered on the pile of clothes you'd neatly arranged, the lace still visible in his mind. Despite your efforts, he knew exactly what lay hidden within. His own blush deepened as he placed the books on the desk, relishing this newfound mystery. This game seemed far from over. As Sebastian carefully arranged the books on the desk, a thousand thoughts paraded through his mind. Every line, every hue painted a vivid picture of you wearing the alluring red garment. He pondered about the curves it might conceal, the secrets it promised. The very idea made his blood rush hotter, making it difficult to concentrate on mundane tasks.

His imagination danced wildly—how soft you must feel beneath those tempting fabrics, how delightful the scent would be, and how desperately he yearned to explore your taste. Yet it wasn't just physical appetite driving his fantasies; rather, the juxtaposition intrigued him most. Timidity cloaked in seduction, innocence dripping in sin. Oh, what a fascinating enigma you were. Despite your quiet demeanour, there was undoubtedly a fiery spirit within. That brazen red whispered promises of passion untold, and Sebastain was desperate to decode the riddle. But for now, he feigned obliviousness, knowing discretion was crucial. For he, too, had secrets brewing beneath his polished exterior.

Your breath hitched, your thoughts wandering down paths you'd previously avoided. Images of Sebastian draped in nothing but his own undergarments filled your mind. You imagined the way his lean body would look, tension rippling beneath smooth skin, and how desire might transform his expressive features. Your cheeks flamed, realising the consequences of your daydream. Your undergarments, once just a respectable layer of cotton, now clung uncomfortably damp. You hesitated, contemplating whether to change immediately or risk waiting till privacy. Either way, the mere thought of Sebastian sent waves of warmth coursing through you.

This new reality was overwhelming yet exciting. The prospect of exploring these feelings with him felt both thrilling and terrifying. And even though you knew better than to fantasise about such unthinkable practices with a stranger, the taboo nature only fueled your fascination further. What kind of man was he beneath that charming façade? And who were you becoming? Embarrassed and exhilarated, you began to hang your clothes in the wardrobe, clutching your jumper tightly against your chest. You hoped no one else would enter our dormitory right now, especially not a professor.

Meanwhile, Sebastian snatched an opportunity to glance at the daring undergarment tucked among your belongings. His cheeks burned like fire, his conscience whispering warnings while his heart begged for indulgence. Nevertheless, he managed a casual facade, retrieving your toiletries from your trunk next. Placing them onto your nightstand, he attempted small talk, trying to maintain an easygoing front. "Quite an impressive collection of hair ribbons. Are you a budding hairdresser, perhaps?" he asked, sounding playful despite the racing pulse in his ears. Focusing on the silky sensuality of the fabric, Sebastian fought back a moan. His erection strained against his wool trousers, urging him to relieve it. Despite the torment, he maintained an air of nonchalance. As you spoke about your collection, he tried diverting attention from the obvious evidence of his turmoil.

Distracted by your work with the coat hangers, you replied, "A girl could never have enough hair accessories. Keeps one grounded, doesn't it?" The irony wasn't lost on him; here he was, losing equilibrium over a pair of lacy panties, owned by a pretty girl. He had to continue chatting lightly about trivial matters, hoping to shift focus from the risqué interlude. Meanwhile, his mind reeled with possibilities—how much more would you reveal if pushed further, and how far would you let him push?

With ease, you slid your pyjamas into the dresser drawer, determined to ignore your sopping wet panties beneath your own uniform. Every movement exposed subtle curves beneath thick layers—hips swaying gently as you bent, breasts barely concealed by cotton. Despite repeated attempts at restraint, Sebastian couldn't contain his perusal. Your sensuous silhouette mesmerised him, setting off a chorus of wanton whispers in his mind.

He adjusted himself again discreetly, his gaze following your lithe form closely. The sight of your tight calves leading to exquisitely plump thighs nearly undid him. His tongue ran along his dry lips, imagining the taste of your tender neck while your fragrance fills his senses. Even your tastefully sized uniform couldn't obscure the fullness of your figure, the captivating contours taunting him. But then, your innocent nature added depth to your appeal. Would you be just as guarded and bashful in bed? Your choice of lingerie suggested otherwise.

Sebastian cleared his throat, forcing himself back into the realm of pleasantries and semblances of decency. "So, what did you think of our common room?" He questioned casually yet earnestly, his gaze lingering on your hands as they moved over drawers and knick-knacks. His heart pounded relentlessly, echoing the beat of his hardening member. His thoughts, however, raced ahead unabashedly. Sebastian's imagination knew no bounds, unfettered by morality. Picture after picture played in his mind—your bound hands tugging against the silk material of the ribbons, drawing taut across your soft skin, contrasting sharply with the delicate confines of your undergarments. Then there was your lower half, helpless under his control; the fabric binding your thighs, tickling sensitive flesh like devil's snare, driving an insatiable hunger within him. And finally, that tantalising fantasy: a silk lint threaded between your folds, brushing against your clitoris with every imperceptible motion.

Each image flooded his senses, his entire being consumed by lust. Yet, he banished them swiftly, summoning a calm mask for your benefit. He needed to tread carefully, to navigate the murky waters of desire without capsizing his ship. Amidst it all, one thing was clear—you were destined to become his obsession, a new student sent here exclusively for him to indulge in.

You turned away from your stuffed wardrobe towards Sebastian, who sat casually yet suggestively on an otherwise empty bed. Heat blanketed your face as you realised how openly you'd examined him too. From his tousled hair down to his bulged trousers, every detail drew you in further. Desire coiled within you, battling apprehension and shock. It seemed this entire scenario was an unwritten invitation to explore untrodden territory. "The common room seemed… Dark," you mumbled shyly, delving into neutral words while trying not to gawk anymore. Your heartbeat matched your thoughts—erratic and fast, pulsating with anticipation and trepidation.

Noticing the flex of your thigh muscles as you shifted position, Sebastian swallowed hard, trying not to let his growing fascination show. They seemed so delicate yet strong, making him imagine them wrapped around his head during passionate nights. "Ah, the darkness suits us Slytherins perfectly, don't you think?" He smirked subtly, the gleam in his eyes hinting at more than idle conversation. As he answered, he fought back the urge to touch those very limbs. Instead, he hunched over on your unused bed, planting his arms and clasping his hands in his lap to hide his own discomfort. "Although, once you settle in, there will be plenty more to observe." Was it a casual observation or friendly small talk? Only he would know, though part of you hoped it was a promise.

Sebastian felt his resolve crumbling like sandcastles at high tide. He wanted nothing more than to rush into his own dormitory and relieve himself, but his better judgement held him back. With a tired sigh, he devised an excuse spot on, hoping it would suffice. "Well, I think we got most of your stuff," he remarked lightly before standing up hastily, concealing his arousal from your watchful gaze. "I suppose there's much studying left to do this evening. I think I should be heading off." His voice dripped with sexiness laced with melancholy, as though Christmas had just come early and gone by within minutes.

Turning away from your spellbinding form, he headed towards the door. "Duty calls, I'll see you tomorrow?" He chuckled a bit sheepishly as he opened the wooden door, wondering how soon fate would conspire again. As Sebastian prepared to exit, you managed a wavering smile filled with equal parts nerves and longing. "Goodnight, Sebastian," you whispered softly, feeling vulnerable under the weight of recent events. Flushed cheeks mirrored shared embarrassment and arousal that transcended mere acquaintanceship.

"Indeed," he acknowledged with a nod, halfway through the doorway. Despite his own disarray, he respected your need for decorum. A final, appreciative glance over his shoulder conveyed volumes unsaid. With a quiet chuckle at life's whimsical turns, Sebastian vanished into shadowy corridors, leaving behind an electric atmosphere suffused with tension and desire.

Feeling the weight lift off your shoulders upon Sebastian's departure, you let out a sigh of relief, sinking onto your bed wearily. There was something exhausting about repressed desire. You kicked off your shoes hastily and sprawled onto the mattress, your movements more erratic than usual. The school skirt rode high as it exposed your panties.

Without further ado, you whipped off your damp underwear, hastily lifting your skirt higher. Now completely naked from waist down, you surrendered to your needs. Thoughts of Sebastian swirled crazily in your head: his voice, subtle confidence, and most notably, the outline suggesting a girthy cock pressed against trousers. Those images propelled you further into arousal. Your fingers found home amidst your pussy’s folds in your underwear, rubbing circles that quickly escalated into almost violent strokes. Hard breaths punctuated the silence, breaking only for brief moans that you tried to muzzle unsuccessfully. As your caresses became more urgent, you imagined his rough fingertips pressing and rubbing against your pulsating core. Each stroke replayed the day's scenes differently than the reality: his gaze heavier, his words dirtier, his bulge even bigger. Desire consumed every thought, each breath now ragged and wild.

As Sebastian retraced his steps to his own dormitory, he couldn't resist touching himself discreetly through the wool barrier by squeezing his erection with his pocketed hand. His grip tightened involuntarily, his thoughts already veering into erotic territories. Images of your body lingered prominently, heightening arousal that threatened to burst through.

He visualised your beautiful form anew: legs spread wide, inviting, your sexy sounds echoing in his ears. His knuckles dug into his swelling member as visions flooded his mind—your dewy lips begging for his mouth, your hips grinding against his pelvis, your moans accompanying each thrust.

A torrent of lascivious scenarios invaded his senses and though he struggled to maintain composure, every step felt like walking on thin ice. Each squeeze exasperated him further, his groin throbbing under layers of clothing. He marvelled at the intensity of this attraction, wondering if it reflected mutual feelings or merely his immense libido. Finally reaching his own dormitory, he bolted inside, slamming the door shut. Dismissing any semblance of shame, Sebastian fumbled with the buttons, freeing his aching member. Groaning at the ceiling as he threw his head back, he allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy of your meeting earlier.

With a desperate hunger on your side of the dungeons, you grasped your breasts, freeing them from the restrictive uniform, the cool air caressing them gently as they bounced lightly. A soft moan escaped your throat, eyes clenched shut. The sight of tousled curls brushing against them clouded your mind, urging you onward. Two fingers slid deep into your wet depths, mimicking the firm yet tender exploration you wished for from Sebastian. You matched his supposed cadence, imagining him kneading those lovely globes with skilled hands, his other fingers probing roughly between your thighs. Each pump sent shivers coursing through your body, simultaneously pleasurable and agonising. Your nipples tightened under your own touch, demanding more.

The fantasy deepened: Sebastian's tongue flicking across your skin, teeth tenderly scraping while his fingers pushed your boundaries deeper. Feelings too potent to contain swirled chaotically in your head, threatening to spiral beyond control. An invisible thread connected your pleasure to his, entrancing and addicting. Your breath hitched faster with each movement, your entire being chanting his name quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

On the other end of Slytherin's labyrinthine corridors, Sebastian lay sprawling on his bed, trousers unzipped and let loose. Shutting his eyes tightly, he focused on the memory seared into his brain. Your face, voice, and scent assaulted him relentlessly, amplifying the need that could no longer be ignored. Jerking off with abandon, he gave in to his lust. Gritting his teeth, he pictured every minute detail of your luscious body, his anticipation growing stronger with each stroke. However, a nagging detail surfaced: he hadn't bothered locking the bedroom door. Despite the impending orgasm, fear crept its way in. What if someone barged in and found him thus engaged? Fumbling for his wand, panic gripped his heart. Where did he keep it?

Panic soon melted into frustration when he couldn't locate his trusty wand among scattered quills, books, and robes strewn around recklessly. A curse slipped past his lips involuntarily. Amidst these unfortunate circumstances, his cock pulsed forcefully, spurring him to continue a little longer. Yet, the fear of interruption left him tense, unable to fully immerse in the moment. Sebastian wanted nothing more than to cum fiercely, shouting your name to the roof, but fear kept him restrained. A sudden realisation dawned on his freckled face, blindingly obvious after much thought. In the chaos preceding assistance, he might have briefly set it on your desk while helping you unpack your trunk. He hesitated, torn between exploring his fantasies and retrieving his wand. However, practicality won over fantasy.

Sebastian knew the danger that lurked in his recklessness; if caught, the consequences would be dire. The urgency dwindled slowly as rationality filled the gaps, replacing horniness with embarrassment. With a heavy sigh, he began dressing hurriedly while mentally tracing steps back to your room. His heart pounded on his chest, the thought of facing you again, however fleeting, triggering excitement once more. Leaving his room hastily, he navigated towards yours with apprehension, praying to find his wand untouched. He felt vulnerable without it, exposed and fidgety. Although his body yearned for release, duty came first—his precious possession needed to return to its rightful master post-haste.

Upon reaching your dormitory door, Sebastian knocked out of courtesy, though the sound reverberated loudly in his ears. The subsequent moments bore an atmosphere pregnant with anticipation. A withheld breath escaped when he pushed the door slightly ajar, and his eyes widened in surprise upon seeing the scene before him. You laid sprawled on the bed, legs splayed eagerly, gasping his name while your eyes squeezed shut. The image of you, wet and wild, sent a jolt directly to his groin. Your tits jiggled invitingly as he watched, your nipples stiff, hands working diligently through your creamy slick. As the wand lay innocuously on your desk, his eyes were fixated elsewhere: two fingers sliding rhythmically, delving deep into your weeping entrance, covered by a cotton barrier. Mouth agape, he watched as your knuckles penetrated your wet cunt, matching the tempo he craved to set within them. Every whimper, every gasp was like music in his ears, reawakening his dormant arousal, a heady blend of temptation and perversity. His gaze roamed over your body, taking in every inch of exposed skin. Your moans wafted through the air, each one carrying your tongue's bitter confession of lust for him. They lashed at his ego, enticing him further into the erotic dance. Each rhythm seemed to scream "join me," a magnetic pull he couldn't resist anymore.

Despite his initial plan to retrieve the wand and leave to fuck his fist in his own dormitory, curiosity spiked as his cock strained desperately for attention. A slow smile tugged at the corners of his lips, decision finally made. Cocking his hip against the door behind him, he leaned nonchalantly, watching you through hooded eyes. You gasped again; this time louder, your breath hitching upon finding your sweet spot again. That beautiful face contorted with pleasure and embarrassment—a sight he had never seen but always desired. Knowing it was him who caused this reaction only fueled his desire, making him harder by the second. Your hand didn't pause though it quivered under the strain of your aggressive rhythm, daring and bold all at once. With a devilish smile tugging at his lips, he circled his pants with unsteady hands, struggling to keep himself contained amid a storm of hormones.

Clearing his throat nervously, Sebastian tried vainly not to blush, even as heat flooded his cheeks. The shock in your eyes mirrored his internal chaos perfectly. His swollen cock strained in his trousers, mocking his feeble attempts at decorum. Swallowing thickly, he attempted damage control, "I…I didn't mean to interrupt…" he muttered, hands trembling as he adjusted himself discreetly.

You scrambled to cover yourself quickly, pulling your skirt down and clutching your shirt tightly, eyes wide with shame. But the evidence of your own arousal was clear to him; he saw it everywhere: on your reddened face, your rapid breaths, and dilated pupils—proof of the fervour simmering beneath our exterior. Nevertheless, he respected your discomfort. His gaze flickered to his wand sitting idly on your desk before returning to meet your eyes. "We both know," he said softly, "that neither of us can deny what happened between us." In those words hung honest confessions and underlying temptations. His attraction to you wasn't something he could hide anymore, nor did he wish to do so. The game was now out in the open, your desires raw and exposed.

Your reactions were swift yet hesitant. Your heartbeat echoed in your ears, and blood rushed to your face at this unexpected spectacle. You glanced away from him, then back again, unsure whether to admit your faults or pretend like nothing happened. Embarrassment gnawed at you like the butterflies in your stomach, leaving an undeniable glaze on your cheeks. Finally, swallowing hard, you met his gaze firmly. "I know…" The admission was tentative but truthful. It hung heavily between you, and he nodded twice, recognizing your honesty. For a moment neither of you spoke, time itself seeming suspended in this charged silence. Then, a gravelly whisper escaped him. "Come here…please?" He beckoned you closer like a predator calling prey into its domain.

Your heart skipped several beats, but you found yourself moving towards him slowly yet surely, still clutching your shirt closed. This close proximity heightened the connection, exchanging your boundaries with mutual consent. Your bodies brushed lightly, and you locked your gazes as if challenging air itself to separate you. His eyes held promise and sin, mixed liberally with depravity and wanton desire. The atmosphere crackled with tension, ready to ignite at any spark. Each heartbeat resounded throughout the room, indicating your racing pulse synchronised as one entity now. Your gaze dropped to his bulge unconsciously, realising how horny he was for you too. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out his hand and pulled you flush against him by the waist, claiming territory in both word and deed. Through it all, your breath hitched uncontrollably, mirroring the surge of emotions coursing through you. Would you let your new acquaintance devour your innocence tonight? God, please, yes.

Both of you blushed furiously, the colour burning your faces scarlet. The fact that you'd barely met just an hour ago made your actions seem ridiculous and scandalous at once. Yet, there was a strange sense of familiarity, an intense connection you couldn't deny. Your lips parted slightly, and a quiet "please" escaped involuntarily. Seizing this opportunity, he pulled you closer, tightening his arm around your waist possessively. His muddy eyes gleamed with appreciation as they met your puppy-dog ones; their depths reflecting both excitement and fear, a perfect mirror of what you felt inside. There was no denying the electricity arcing between us, threatening to short-circuit us utterly.

As Sebastian nestled closer, his hips subtly ground against yours suggestively. Your breathing picked up pace, matching his erratic rhythmic pulsations. You trembled when his calloused hand slid subtly between the open gap of your shirt, brushing against tender skin, leaving trails of electric sensations in their wake. Shivers ran riot across mine body, reinforcing the unspoken agreement of irrational behaviour. Stealing a feathery kiss along your jawline, he whispered huskily near your ear, "If you change your mind, just say so. Otherwise…" He paused dramatically, punctuated by another grinding thrust against you. "Let's continue where we left off earlier." His hand moved stealthily underneath cotton, slithering his way to your breast that still rested on top of your lowered bra. With a soft moan trapped by your lips, he fully claimed you with a fierce kiss, sexually and emotionally, making sure you understood that he wanted only you tonight.

He kissed you desperately yet unhurriedly, alternately demanding and patient, as if trying to balance the fine line between urgency and patience. His tongue explored your mouth aggressively, seeking permission through every stroke. You responded instinctively, lips opening wide to welcome his incursion, mirroring his hunger without inhibition.

His free hand started its journey, tracing every curve it could find, stopping nonchalantly at your breast under the thin layer of fabric. Here, he hesitated for a split-second before finally reaching out boldly. With a firm grip, he squeezed your chest ever so gently, how it fit perfectly in his large palm like an offering meant specifically for him. Unhurried yet insatiable, Sebastian slowly plundered your lips. His tongue delved boldly into your mouth, mirroring the urgency palpable between us. As eagerness surged through him, so did caution, remembering it was his first time, and hoping it was yours too. His hand squeezed your tit gently but firmly, compressing it nicely in his palm, eliciting a faint yelp from your lips which were simultaneously bruised by his fervent kisses. An appreciative sound escaped him at the feel of firm flesh beneath his grip, prompting more exploration.

Rolling your pert nipple between his fingers, Sebastian felt it stiffen immediately, reacting positively to his prodding touch. A satisfied hum vibrated against your mouth, signalling approval. With each squeeze and pull, your chest rose and fell faster, breath hitching in response to his touch. He applied light pressure, fondling and kneading with abandon, desperate to savour every curve and contour hidden under layers of clothing. Little pinpricks of pleasure radiated from under his exploration, causing you to whimper quietly against his mouth. His tongue duelled fiercely with yours, battling for dominance amidst sparks of electricity dancing around both of you. In tandem, finger tips tweaked at your nipple aggressively, creating a paradoxical blend of pain and ecstasy within instinctive impulses coursing through every cell in your body.

With a rare skill, the Slytherin’s hand twisted into position for easier access. A shiver raced down your spine when he pinched that tiny bud harshly just enough to make you squirm, begging for more. Gasping into his kiss, you tilted your head backwards, surrendering yourself to his control. His free hand gripped your hair, holding you fast despite his urgency and haste. By now, your pants seemed woefully insufficient as sensations engorged and his weight pressed into you forcefully, a testament to his hunger. At your touch, he revelled in the sensation like an addict craving a fix, grunting low in satisfaction. His breath caught in his throat when your delicate hands roamed over the crisp material. Responding instinctively to the stimulation of your touch, he began peeling off his shirt, revealing lean and well-defined muscles previously hinted at by his clothes. His pecs flexed subtly beneath his smooth skin as one hand undid the buttons methodically, an erotic dance choreographed solely for you.

Simultaneously, his other hand tugged firmly at your tie, tearing it loose abruptly from around your neck, making your breath hitch once again by his sudden display of quiet strength. It fell to the ground much like his shame, replaced now only by insatiable wants. His own tie and shirt followed suit soon after as he discarded them artlessly, leaving him bare-chested and exposed. His breath ragged, eyes locked with yours, making sure you appreciated his offering. You stared entranced by his sheer confidence, noting dots of sweat even though he seemed so composed. He grinned wolfishly at your reaction before kissing you again: fierce, needful, borderless.

Meanwhile, your own garments were handled roughly yet carefully; off came the shirt next, uncovering pale skin marred only by the pink blush spread across it. The sight before him sent his brain spiraling wild with possibility and freedom. Your breasts, pushed up by the bra hanging around your midriff, glowing under the dim lights sparked something feral within him, releasing the primal urge to claim what he had only discovered an hour ago. However, the task at hand required immense concentration. Feverish hands searched frantically for the clasps of your bra, struggling slightly due to your elevated heartbeat echoing through your entire body and his own inexperience. Each attempt felt like nails on a chalkboard, both exciting and frustrating.

Finally managing to locate the clasp, the metallic snap echoed loudly before the material fell to the ground. Satisfaction, intermingled with triumph, coloured his features as your breasts sprung free fully. He groaned at the sight, appreciating the bounty before him—full, round, ripe tits bobbing gently. His eyes lingered on the nipples he had just hardened with his ministrations. His hands explored them greedily, seemingly lost in wonderment before pinching harshly once more for good measure and drawing out a shocked gasp from you. Boldly, he bent down to lick one rapidly before sucking it into his mouth, both of your toes curling in your shoes at your subsequent cry of surprise. For the first time in ages, Sebastian knew pure contentment and satisfaction.

Diving headlong into this forbidden fruit, he masked his indecision with zealous enthusiasm and an eager mouth. One hand returned to your waist, while the other grabbed your breast savagely. He squeezed it gently before stretching it further, enjoying the stretch of tight skin under his touch. Low growls escaped him as he buried his face against your flesh, licking at your tender skin with reckless impatience. The dry brush of his curled hair against your collarbone created a unique sensation, different from the silkiness of his tongue. Your cries of pleasant surprise turned into moans of arousal, igniting an inferno inside him.

Once satiated, he switched to your other breast, refusing to play favorites. This time, he grabbed its sister assertively, almost rough, wanting nothing less than dominance over this new territory. He played with it ruthlessly, pinching your nipple between his fingers gently but firmly, drawing out a high-pitched sound as his teeth scraped lightly at your skin. Sebastian's lips enveloped the sensitive peak trapped between his lips and sucked vigorously. This time, instead of gentle kisses and squeezes, hard pulls accompanied each nibbling action.

Your response was instantaneous. You pulled his hair almost affectionately, guiding him closer to your nape where a less sensitive spot resided. A soft yelp left him as his scalp was yanked, stray locks of hair becoming entangled between your fingers. He kept going regardless, appearing more determined than ever, his brown mop tickling you with each movement. The soundtrack grew louder, filled with your breathy gasps, his labored breathing, wet slaps of kisses, and occasional moans mixed harmoniously in lustful cacophony. Slippery saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth onto your breast, marking his ownership plainly.

Captivated by your tits, he couldn't resist attacking them as you moved backward towards your bed. His lips, teeth, and tongue remorselessly roamed over the peaks and valley, his hands exploring each curve and dip without mercy. You could hear him pant heavily, a testament to his throbbing passion. Your movements brought you closer to your destination, the safety net waiting for two entangled bodies to fall upon. He stumbled following you, his lips still suctioned to your chest, desperately trying not to lose contact. As you neared the edge of the mattress, the wooden floorboards creaked underneath you, protesting the invasion of these tangled limbs. Just before falling onto the plush sheets, his head finally lifted, his breathless gaze meeting yours for a split second. However, hunger got the better of him, drawing you back for another taste of heaven

His kiss fractionally landed higher than before, on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, causing a shiver to run down your spine. His tongue flicked out, tasting salt from the small beads of sweat forming there, then slipped inside the sensitive hollow. Another low growl emanated from him, urging him onwards, further than your upper half.

With a low growl, he helped lower you onto the bed, adjusting the position so your head rested comfortably against pillows. Before you knew it, he straddled your spread legs, his knees digging into the fabric beneath you, his leather belt pressing against your skirt. Your gaze locked with his fiery ones, the intensity building with every passing moment. Sweaty palms gripped your thighs, holding you steady while leaning forward purposefully. With a swift move, he hiked up your skirt, exposing the thick flesh bathed in arousal spilling forth from your pores.

A satisfied hum escaped him, eyes feasting on the view below. Muscular calves, soft skin, sexy curves that led to his ultimate goal - a treasure guarded by cotton. Mild apprehension clouded his judgment as he licked his lips, preparing himself mentally and physically for the deed. Thunderous heartbeats echoed throughout the room, adding tension to this vulnerable scene. As if in answer, your fingers slid into his hair, urging him closer, deeper. The tug was subtle but effective, pulling him towards your center. His gaze met yours once more, filled with questions and uncertainty. But despite everything, he obliged eagerly, lowering his face to claim his land, his lips parting to reveal sharp teeth.

Ignorant but eager, Sebastian pressed his tongue against your damp panties, wet heat seeping through the barrier. The unfamiliar textures overwhelmed his senses, but excitement drove him to push aside doubts, replacing them with bold curiosity. In his inexperienced enthusiasm, he didn't shy away from rubbing his tongue flatly over the material, brushing against your outer folds through the thin barrier.

Your thighs, hot against his ears, left trails of sweat, evidence of your need for relief. He knelt below you, his gaze locked with your face, enjoying your reactions, paralyzed by pleasure and frustration equally. His own legs were trembling as a consequence, betraying his own desire that leaked from his hard cock. Yet he remained undeterred, desperate to satisfy and understand the mysteries of the female body. Each tentative press of his tongue sent ripples of pleasure up your spine, increasing your eagerness for more as you bucked against his warm mouth. His actions were raw and sensual; they caused his eyebrows to crease in concentration, adding to the turbulent emotions running rampant during this learning process. Every breath became ragged, punctuated with subtle whimpers and sighs, both encouraging and taunting at the same time.

Eventually, he found the strength to glance down, taking in the sight of your damp underwear, glazed with anticipation. Rash and bold, he lunged forward again, teeth sinking into the waistband gently but firmly, opening the gateway towards the garden of Eden. A sudden gust of air escaped you as his efforts paid off, revealing the prize he sought. Finally feeling accomplished, he closed his eyes briefly, gathering what confidence he could. His nostrils flared as he smelled your drenched cunt, exuding the pheromones of your awakening desire. Feeling emboldened by your earlier reaction, he dipped his tongue hesitantly as his nose pressed against your clit, his curiosity guiding him rather than any prior experience. The taste hit him immediately; salty, sweet, and intoxicating, unlike anything he had encountered. Each swipe of his tongue revealed a new facet of your arousal, hidden preferences that fueled his hunger even further.

His rhythm developed naturally despite his inexperience, each lick and swipe getting bolder. His hot breath caressed your most private parts, sending shivers up and down your spine. His tongue played havoc, flicking faster across your clit, then hovering above before striking again. His hair brushed lightly against your inner thighs, tickling your skin, each movement deliberate yet messy. He swished his tongue, seeking and discovering hidden spots that drew more sighs and musical gasps from you. Your hips bucked involuntarily, arching into his assault while his tensed grip on your thighs only served to restrain you.

Warm spit trickled from his mouth, lubricating his playing field while his breathing synchronised with yours. He revelled in every sound, every tiny moan, absorbing your pleasure intensively. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached one finger between your legs, feeling your warmth and slippery wetness. Your folds clenched as he massaged delicately, matching the pace with his tongue.

His exploration and learning progressed quickly, but his enjoyment seemed equal. His tongue worked furiously, devouring you inch by inch, leaving behind squelching sounds of delight and surprise, all while your body arched up against the onslaught. He could feel your rapid pulse under his fingertips, a testament to his success. His confidence increased, pushing him to go further, to plunge deeper, to explore higher. His tongue weaved a trail of fire that nibbled, sucked, circled, and inched upwards.

Both your bodies writhed, sweat pouring despite the chill in the air. Grunts and moans resonated throughout the room, a beacon screaming for attention, begging for more. Your pleas urged him onward, words barely forming as you encouraged him to continue, continuing your torture with lust. It wasn't long till he looked up again, meeting your half-closed gaze once more. Although already appearing spent, you still looked beautiful, radiant even as you whimpered your pleas. His cheeks were flushed, eyes heavy with heat and lust, his own erection straining against his clothing.

His eyes traced the lower half of your body once more, drawn to the untouched territory below your labia. Your entrance gaped invitingly, offering its uncharted waters to a curious explorer. He saw pink, glistening walls, promising undiscovered pleasures that made his dick twitch violently. Curiosity gnawed at him, igniting a desire he hadn't felt before.

His stare lingered on your entrance, swollen and begging for attention. A newfound resolve set in, and with a final lick, he raised himself slightly, hovering over your invitation. His hesitation was evident, barely containing the ignorance dancing in his eyes. Then with an exhale, he dove in again, his tongue parting your folds before sliding into your hole. You jumped at the sensation, your body convulsing under the pressure and the sight of his bushy brows and burning eyes just above you mound. His tongue explored further, penetrating wider than your two fingers did, feeling the muscles wrap around him. Each withdrawal was met with disappointment, each thrust with anticipation.

The lack of lubrication coming from you due to the friction slowed him temporarily, but not for long. Slowly, methodically, he pushed harder, slipping farther despite the resistance. His pace faltered, replaced by searching motions, exploring every corner, scraping against the rough patches, and grazing over the sensitive walls. His dance led you to gripping his hair, your nails making faint scratching sounds on his scalp as you searched for anchoring points. The combination was too much for him. After one last plunge of his wet muscle, he emerged victoriously, his chin and lips covered in your juices.

Finally giving in to his curiosity, he wiped his mouth clean with the back of his hand, sticking two thick fingers in your tight, slippery hole. The twist of your body showed his first invasion had affected you deeply. But this time, the added pressure made you gasp and throw your head back, eyes screwed shut tight. His gaze locked onto your face, capturing every contortion as he pushed further, watching your face become a canvas of surprise and ecstasy. His fingers slid deeper, your walls stretching to accommodate him with eagerness. As he thrust slowly, his middle finger ran circles around something hidden deep within, sending sparks across your nerve endings. You moaned, each thrust accentuating the feeling at a snail's pace. His steady rhythm was broken when his thumb made contact, barely grazing your teardrop-shaped pleasure point. With a sharp intake of breath, you clung to his hair tightly, unprepared for the intensity of the feeling.

He hesitated, playing with you like a puppeteer. The promise of satisfaction lingered over your face, but he held back, curious to see how far he could take you. Your body pulsed, bucking beneath him, and finally, you pleaded with his name, those words producing a smirk on his face. With a feral growl, he pinched your bundle of nerves, your thighs shaking violently as you let out the loudest groan yet. A deafening crescendo reverberated around you, filling the cold room with the sound of untamed passion. Cleverly, he reduced the stimulation right as you neared climax, prolonging the agonising wait.

Every pulsing wave signalled your desperation, sensations surging through you like a storm brewing. Finally, he leaned down, sucking gently on your clit between his fingers' thrusts. Your pleasure skyrocketed, almost too much to bear. Sensing your breakdown, his grip on your thighs tightened until, finally, he couldn't hold back anymore. Blindly, he released everything he had learned so far, savouring every moment of your impending explosion.

Sebastian watched your face contort under his ministrations. It was a beautiful sight, and seeing your need fueled his own exploratory drive. He glanced up, looking into your eyes for confirmation. "Like that?" he asked hoarsely, his voice dripping in husky notes of desire, craving to hear your approval. His thrusting fingers gathered speed in response to your nod, your weak submission pushing him to greater lengths. The room echoed with your whimpers, punctuated by the smacking sound of his lips over your core. His gaze stayed fixed on you, taking in the change in flavour of your arousal, tracking your every expression, breathing along with you.

His fingertips curled, digging deeper, stretching you wide despite the discomfort. He wanted to give more, push you closer to the edge. With lightning speed, he switched to a three-finger attack, spreading you wide, your throbbing hole accommodating without complaint. He pulled away for a moment, leaving your clit alone, allowing you to catch your breath. Your heartbeat echoed loudly, and his breathing steadied. Your eyes were filled with gratitude and submission. Suddenly, he dived back in, sucking you forcefully and lapping your folds. You let out a desperate, high-pitched moan. Each thrust of his fingers enhanced the suction, creating friction that had you writhing uncontrollably. An orgasm was building, his fingers working as a lever, your quivering hole squeezing him with each fervid thrust. Your body yielded tantalisingly to his control as he drew out your pleasure like strings of a harp. Every tremble screamed at him to stop, but he wouldn't. His tongue lashed out, torturous waves of pleasure leaving your body.

Bliss washed over you, his relentless pursuit of pleasure consuming you. As your orgasm neared, you panted, gripping his hair harder. Pleas burst forth from you. "Please, Sebastian, just… let me cum!" you begged, your voice teetering on the edge of insanity. The intensity of your desire overwhelmed him. His own erection was stiff, the school uniform a futile barrier against his lust. He paused his tongue, noting the hunger in your eyes. It was intoxicating. Ignoring his raging cock, he resumed sucking your clit, eliciting an ear-splitting scream. That broke the dam, setting off a chain reaction which had you arcing off the bed. Your legs spread wide, your toes curled, and your fingernails dug deep into his scalp, yanking it harshly.

Again, he sucked hard, and you screamed out his name, the combination of pain and pleasure overwhelming. Your climax was his reward. The soft, high-pitched mews escalated, forming a symphony with the slurping noises he made. Shaking uncontrollably, feelings flooded you, waves peaking before crashing heavily, leaving you panting on the bed.

Exhausted, your body relaxed, your voice soft now. "Thank you," you murmured, the relief audible in your tone. He lay there for a minute, stomach pressed to your mattress, catching his own breath. Even though he was thoroughly aroused, he managed a crooked smile. "It's my privilege," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction.

As you came down from your high, his satisfied face morphed into one of smug triumph, and he crawled over you. You noticed a line of coarse hairs, leading from the waistband of his trousers towards his navel. You couldn't help but trace them with your index finger, marvelling at the trail of pubic hair. For a brief second, he squirmed under your touch, his chest rising and falling rapidly. But soon enough, he shifted and caught your hand, unable to resist the urge to control the situation once more. It was impressive how he could hold himself up on only one elbow, another sign he was indeed "your local duelling expert."

He flipped your hand, guiding your fingers to his erection. Straining against the fabric, it seemed desperate for your touch, matching the growling beast inside him. He swallowed nervously, pressing a chaste kiss on your cheeks before burying his lips below your ear, his nose poking behind it while he took in your now musky scent.

The moment your fingers made contact with his groin, he couldn't help but let out a deep, guttural groan. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure, a sound he had never made before. His eyes rolled back, and his body shuddered, reacting to the foreign sensation. It was a strange feeling, having someone else touch him there, especially a girl he had only met a little over an hour ago.

But there was something undeniably exciting about it. It was like a new adventure, a new experience that he was eager to explore. He could feel his cock pulsating under your touch, the blood rushing to it, making it swell even more. He closed his eyes, savouring the moment, letting the pleasure wash over him. He could feel your fingers tracing the outline of his erection, feeling the heat radiating from it. He let out a soft moan, his body arching into your touch. He was completely at your mercy, and he didn't mind it one bit. In fact, he found it incredibly arousing.

He opened his eyes, looking down at you with a mixture of surprise and lust. He had never felt this way before, and he knew that he wanted more. He wanted to explore every inch of your body, to taste every part of you. He wanted to scream your name, just like he had made you scream his. He leaned down, pressing his lips against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. He could feel your heart racing, your body trembling beneath him. He knew that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. And he was ready to give you everything you desired.

His urgency matched yours, and he needed to feel your warmth against him. Hungry hands snapped the buttons of his front flap open, revealing his straining underwear and a visible bulge. What a beast it was. Then, leaning onto his forearms, he brought his forehead against yours. There was a sense of vulnerability in that position, eyes locked, staring deep into each other, though he only did it because the muscles in his arm started straining.

Slowly, he separated his forehead from yours. Instead, he moved his lips closer, just a whisper away from yours. He exhaled deeply, filling your mouth with the warmth of his breath. His nostrils flared, eyebrows furrowed, and the hunger for you grew stronger. This wasn't just a physical attraction; it was something… different. But Sebastian couldn't put a label on it. Not yet. Pushing his boxers down, he revealed all of himself to you, in all its shivering glory. His eyes locked onto yours, waiting for permission. He was yours, willing to follow wherever you led. A soft smile played upon his lips, his heated gaze promising that he would make you forget your own name. All you had to do was say the word.

Your eyes widened as he revealed his girth. It was… imposing. The sheer size of him was shocking, one he had to be proud of. Your eyes couldn't help but trace the thick veins of him from root to tip. The size made you a little nervous, but it wasn't unwelcome. You liked the idea of being full. The thought of the red lingerie in your trunk earlier crossed your mind briefly, and you almost felt guilty for fucking a student on your first day here. You weren't raised like this, but then…

You felt a sudden surge of curiosity; you wanted to know how his dick would feel. A shy smile graced his face at your astonishment, but there was still hesitation in your eyes. Slowly, reaching out, you wrapped your fingers around his shaft, coating it with warmth. You stroked it gently, slowly moving your hand up and down, shocked at the contrast of hot pre-cum against his flesh. He buried his face in your neck again, a rumbling sound of pleasure escaping him. With each stroke, every nerve ending was tested, sending shooting stars across his brain. Your nails lightly skimmed his clothed thigh, his cock twitching. The base of his shaft hit your palm with a small tap each stroke, spreading a wave of delight. And then you stopped, making him look up. You slowly looked at him, fear and excitement intertwining in your eyes. "Are you sure about this, Sebastian?" you asked softly, your fingers still clutching his cock. He grinned, a once flustered boy, now confident and enigmatic. "I can be patient, darling. If anything goes wrong, we'll stop, yeah?"

No sooner than the words left his mouth did he capture your lips, his fingers tangling into your hair. The kiss was demanding, possessive, as if trying to convey his need to you. He was a predator finally seizing his prey, showing no mercy. And it was perfect. You nodded, lost in the whirlwind of emotions, as he slowly started replacing your hand with his own. His breathing became erratic, his heart pounding as he guided the massive cockhead to your entrance. A faint hint of nerves danced in his eyes. Still, the eagerness sparkled brighter. As he thrust forward ever so slowly, his eyes rolled back, and his hips bucked involuntarily. You groaned, adjusting to the invasion. With slow deliberation, he pushed further in. Each inch sent ripples of sensation up into him, and despite the severe tightness, you felt heavenly. He could feel you clenching around him, tightening with every push.

He sank deeper, mimicking the speed of his heartbeat. He groaned too, sweat glazing his brow. "Oh God, you feel incredible," he muttered, his breath tangled in your hair. He threw his head forward, a soft growl escaping him, "Tight… so fucking tight…" Your hands gripped his arms, nails digging in, matching the intensity of the moment. But you wanted more. You wanted to see him lose control, to take him into a realm of passion and devotion. You moved his hand on your thigh aside, determined to show him that you were a match to his prowess. Slowly, you held yourself open, giving him room. As he started thrusting faintly, you instinctively squeezed him, testing the limits of your grip. The control he had over the situation shattered, replaced by utter fascination. His thrusts grew fadtert, his groans turning into ragged whispers. "Fuck," he panted, pulling you closer, "You're amazing…" You returned the sentiment, wrapping your legs around his hips, feeling every stroke deep within you. He fucked you like the devil himself fuelled him, and you reveled in each thrust, courage rearing its head.

At first, he was in control of himself. Each thrust deliberate, aiming to please and understand your comfort level. His eyes searched for a reaction, watching as your expressions flickered between pleasure and pain. But soon, he couldn't focus on anything else besides the feel. Each thrust felt like a lightning bolt piercing your core, making you gasp and moan. He watched as your eyelids fluttered, desperate for more. He was an animal now, forgetting everything but the rhythm. His body was rigid, jerking each thrust, leaving you gasping, begging for relief.

"God, please, Sebastian," you cried out, your hands grasping his neck. Your voice rose and fell, mirroring his movements, urging him to keep going. You trapped his gaze, showing him how much you enjoyed it, how much you needed him. His breathing was harsh, each thrust punctuated by the sound of wet slaps. He gained momentum, driving into you with wild abandon. He looked deep into your eyes, questioning if you were okay. But your loud moans answered his concern, emphasized by your tight hug around his neck.

He was losing control, his body shaking with the effort of holding himself up. His arms were unsteady, his balance wavering. He was close, so close, but he didn't want to end it yet. He wanted to make sure you were satisfied, that you were enjoying this as much as he was. "Fuck, I need you to lay on your side," he panted heavily, his voice hoarse from the effort. He didn't want to hurt you, but he was struggling to maintain his balance. Stringent breaths echoed through the room, sidestepping the ethereal melody of desire. Drenched in sweat, he pulled out, causing you to let out a growl of protest. He struggled to take off his remaining clothes, answering your disapproval with a smile. "Trust me," he promised, tugging his pants off, almost tripping over his shoes. Kicking them away, he laid behind you, panting heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

He positioned himself once more, spreading your legs wider with a soft nudge. "Don't worry, I won't break you," he murmured with a kiss to your cheek, bracing himself behind you. One leg was draped over his thigh, offering easy access. He admired the sight: your round ass inviting him to enter as he spread your cheeks lightly. He didn't just admire, no, he savoured the view.

And then he plunged in again, hard and fast. You gasped, but the moans resumed, spilling out with soft curses and lip bites. A feral smile spread across his lips as his face towered next to yours, his hands grabbing your ass firmly. He slammed into you, chasing the pleasure he craved, punishing his hips against you. You responded, meeting his thrust with equal vigour, the room filled with passionate yelling and guttural cries. The sensation was overwhelming, an explosion in bedsheets hiding their carnal desires. His eyes never abandoned your lovely form, burying himself deeper within you. Lost in lust, he knew he was close, pulsating against the walls of your tight pussy. He could taste it, feel it; victory was near.

Overwhelmed by hunger, Sebastian lost control. His sanity slipped away, leaving only animalistic desire. Without warning, he delivered a sharp smack to the curve of your ass. A red print bloomed immediately, nothing more than a testament to his desire for you. Your muscles, in response, constricted around his already throbbing length. An orgasmic quiver engulfed you fully, echoing waves of passion throughout your body.

Remembering your earlier preferences, Sebastian reached for your clit with clammy fingers. His digits caressed your most sensitive spot, sending you into a frenzy of ecstasy. He found his rhythm, alternating between rough and tender, matching the pace he'd set with his thrusts. Your moans escalated, reaching a peak he couldn't ignore anymore. He probably had to stop, regroup, but every part of him screamed to continue. His heart threatened to burst. The room echoed with your moans and the rhythm of their thrusts. The wall clock ticked as time dissolved, consumed by raw passion. He paused to catch his breath, locked in your embrace. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, his body flush with excitement. In that moment, he made a decision, one driven purely by instinct. He had to come inside you, marking his territory without guilt.

With renewed force, he drove into you, faster and harsher than ever. Every thrust seemed to send shockwaves, propelling each pulse closer to climax. He played with your clit ferociously, careful not to overdo it and ruin your moment. You screamed into the pillow, begging for mercy and relief, all at the same time. His fingers dug into your hips, thrusting harder, each motion punctuated by an understanding grunt. He could feel it, the end. His balls tightened, the orgasm neared. "Come with me, doll," he whispered into your ear, surrendering to your passion. Together, you climbed towards the edge, helpless in his grasp.

Cumming wasn't gentle, no. Your body convulsed violently, reaching a crescendo of unchecked passion. Your moans grew louder, becoming strangled cries as you approached the edge. His thumb circled your clit, your cries filling the room, ending with a primal scream into the pillow. You released, vibrating furiously, practically milking everything he had to offer. Fleeting moments passed before he joined you, his own release powerful and unrestrained. His orgasm hit like a tidal wave, swallowing both of you whole. Eyes shut tightly, his teeth sank into your shoulder, his hips buckling with force. With a final, powerful thrust, he collapsed against you, surrendering to the aftermath. Satisfaction radiated, pulsating hot streams filling you up. You shook, your insides clamping down, milking every last drop from his exhausted shaft. The sheets beneath you grew wetter, marked by his triumph. Aftershocks rolled through your bodies, leaving trails of exhaustion. As the room slowly settled, two sets of heavy breaths finally became synchronized. You lay tangled together, hearts pounding in sync, bathed in the afterglow of pure, unfiltered passion.

As the room calmed, a sigh of contentment escaped your lips. You turned to face him, hair sticking to your forehead with sweat. Even in post-coital bliss, the intensity of what happened wasn't lost on either of you. A peaceful silence enveloped you, interrupted only by labored breathing. Slowly, reluctantly, Sebastian pulled out, the reality setting in. She was a stranger, someone he barely knew, yet he'd given her something valuable: his virginity. The weight of his actions bore down upon him, his mind racing. Memories of his previous life cascaded, replaced by the newfound intimacy he shared with this fresh face. A strange calm came over him, realizing the importance of what happened. He glanced down at your still-quivering body, a mix of curiosity and comfort washing over him. Was this a mistake? Or was it simply… fate? The new girl he was already infatuated with wasn't a stranger anymore. She was much more than that now. The postcoital awkwardness descended, emotions conflicting and intertwining. Did he rush things? Should he have been more cautious? Or perhaps, did everything happen naturally, leading him here? Staring into your eyes, he saw the same questions reflected back at him. This moment hung heavy with implications, marking the beginning of something unknown. As uncomfortable as it might seem, he knew one thing for certain: he wouldn't change anything.

Both of you were stricken, contemplating the enormity of the act. He traced the outline of your jawline, feeling the warmth radiate off your skin. "Was it worth it?" he asked hesitantly, knowing well enough that words weren't enough. His question was fraught with doubt, uncertainty, curiosity. Yet, there was also a hint of satisfaction, a promise of more to come. Sebastian paused, searching for the right words. "I… don't regret it," he said, tracing circles along your jaw. "Not when you reacted like that." His fingers strayed to your neck, caressing gently as if soothing himself as much as you. A shiver ran through you at his touch, reminding him of the passion you shared moments ago. He swallowed hard, trying to reconcile the vulnerability with the image of you lying next to him. You looked into his eyes, a whisper escaping your lips. "Worth it?" The corner of your mouth lifted into a small smile. "Definitely."

A bright blush spread across his face as he realized the gravity of the situation. He had to get out of here, and fast. He didn't want to get caught, especially after the loud moans that had likely echoed through the dormitory. He quickly got up from the bed, pulling on his clothes with a hurried urgency. Despite the urgency to flee, his gaze lingered on you. There was an undeniable attraction, a connection that extended far beyond physical; it felt almost magnetic. He hesitated, unable to break eye contact. Then, in between buttoning his shirt, he spoke, partly to ease the tension building, partly because he genuinely wanted to know more about you. "Um, how do you feel about Hogsmeade? Fancy grabbing a drink somewhere tomorrow… or maybe a walk? We can just… pretend we didn’t…" Embarrassment painted his features, half-filled with nervous laughter. He knew it was abrupt and somewhat presumptuous, but he couldn't resist the urge to spend more time with you.

You watched him dress, the situation both exhilarating and baffling. There was definitely something intriguing about this guy, and seeing him in a vulnerable state made him seem less untouchable. You managed a weak grin, eyebrows raising quizzically. "Sure, why not?" You replied, matching his nervous chuckle. "I…uh… I won't tell anyone about tonight. If you don't want to…" His face lit up at your agreement, gratitude sparking in his eyes. As you agreed to his impromptu invitation, a wave of relief washed over him. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek. His lips lingered for a moment, savoring the warmth of your skin. He pulled back, a shy smile playing on his lips. "Thank you," he whispered, buckling his belt with a newfound sense of purpose. He was going to make sure you enjoyed your time at Hogwarts, starting with a date to Hogsmeade. “After lunch ends?”

Seeing you nod, Sebastian took one last look around the room, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything. His wand was safely tucked in his pocket, a reminder of the whole reason this transpired. With a final glance at you, he moved towards the door, ready to face the world outside. "Until tomorrow, then," he said, a hint of excitement in his voice. The air between you thickened with unsaid words, promises unspoken, feelings unexpressed. Yet, the simple exchange held a heaviness that promised more was on its way. He opened the door, peeking out to ensure the hallway was empty. A swift glance back at you told volumes without uttering a word. The faint glimmer of expectation shone in those coffee-colored eyes, a silent confirmation of a shared understanding. Tiptoeing out, he closed the door softly behind him, disappearing into the darkness of the corridor. Left alone in the room, you smiled, reflecting on the extraordinary turn of events. An ordinary evening had transformed into something truly unforgettable. And though the future was uncertain, you knew you were in for quite a ride.

What had started as an innocent encounter had spiraled into an intimate, unforgettable memory. Emotions swirled in your chest, a whirlpool of excitement, anxiety, and anticipation. He was charming, dangerous, and seemingly just as bewildered as you were. But there was something about him that drew you in, like a moth to a flame. Your gaze dropped to your chest, feeling the heat left by his kiss. Your fingertips traced the spot where his lips had graced, as if trying to etch the sensation onto your memory. As the reality of what had happened set in, a mixture of giddiness and nerves coursed through your veins. He was indeed charming in his own twisted ways, and you couldn't deny the allure. Dangerous? Perhaps, but you found yourself attracted to it. The scent of him still lingered in the room, a faint aroma of leather and musk tickling your nose. With a gentle sigh, you tucked yourself under the blankets, allowing yourself to calm down from the intense sex. Thoughts filled with stolen glances, late-night conversations, and his wicked grin danced in your mind's eye. In the span of hours, he'd completely disrupted your perception of Hogwarts. The mystique surrounding Sebastian Sallow, the local duelling expert, was overwhelming, and yet irresistible.

#sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow smut #bark bark #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow fanfiction

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peterparkersnose · 1 year

Text

Throne

pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: smut, sugar daddy themes (not au), undefined relationship, dominance, teasing, aegon can be such a fucking asshole, guilt tripping, neck play, angst, public pleasuring, punishments (yay), dirty talk, fem!receiving oral, fingering, begging, delayed orgasm, blood play, degradation, aftercare, aegon's ownership of reader

a/n ok ok ok i actually really enjoyed writing this smut. so much. i just love me a good dominant man that does what he wants (within reason ofc we love consent here)

summary Y/N is taught a lesson by Aegon

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read time: 11 mins 1 second

“What is it?” she asked, bursting into the throne room angrily. No bows, no titles, just anger.

Aegon smirked at her devilishly, watching her approach him with such an angsty tone.

“I cannot just simply ask for you to pay me a visit?” he asks, unfolding his legs from the childish position on the Iron Throne and straightening his back.

“I don’t like being torn from my studies just because you wish to see me.”

He laughs out loud, almost mockingly. “A ‘Hello your Majesty’ and perhaps a bow would have done.” Aegon scoffed, staring her body up and down like she was a new shiny toy. He noticed the dress she was wearing; the one he had commissioned for her after she was such a good girl after their previous endeavors together. She earned it- she deserved it.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Aegon said, rubbing his legs until he got to his knees and finally stood.

“Have you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and walking closer to him.

“It’s rude to deny your king of what he wishes. I called upon you nearly an hour ago.” Aegon declares as he skips down the stairs, meeting her halfway and softly grabbing her wrists. He was just as an impatient man as he was a gruesome King. He holds her at arm’s length, looking her up and down once again with hungry eyes.

“And you are what I currently desire.”

She catches her breath as she stares at him. “You called me out of my studies… for this?”

She stares at him, her heart pounding against her ribcage. The room feels suffocating as if the tension between them has thickened the air. Her initial confusion morphs into a wave of disappointment and frustration, evident in the deep furrow that forms between her brows.

Her disgust was off-putting to him. With a menacing glare, so different from the adoring one he had for her moments ago, he pulled her close and brought his fingers to her chin, and forced her to stare into his gaze. His face contorts, momentarily betraying a flicker of vulnerability, as her disgust pierces through his facial facade. In response, his expression transforms, and his previously adoring gaze is replaced by a cold stare that bores into her soul. “I can do what I want, when I want. I am the King. Do you understand?”

The weight of his words hangs heavily in the air, a chilling reminder of his position of authority.

She does not reply, her lips tightly sealed as she gazes into his tired eyes. It looks like he hasn’t slept in days. In fact, it was clear that he hasn't slept in days. The exhaustion seeps into every fiber of his appearance, affecting his posture, his movements, and even the cadence of his voice. His shoulders sag, burdened by the weight of ruling the Seven Kingdoms, and perhaps watching over her every movement. She wasn’t obedient enough yet for his liking, evident by her previous actions of the day.

“Do you understand?” he asks once again, this time with more anger backing up his tone. Aegon was not one to be denied, especially when he felt such ownership over her. His grasp on her wrists became tighter as his breath now drew on her ears. “You act like you don’t deserve this dress. I had it made for you. Act like you deserve it, love.”

“I’m sorry…” she whispered, closing her eyes as his words flew through her. She let out a shuttered breath.

Aegon smirked at her, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. It was a kind smirk to most, but she could recognize the evil behind his mask. “Not good enough,” he groaned.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t wear it anymore. You are misbehaving, hm? What happens to disobedient girls? Do they get to keep all the presents they were so gracefully gifted?”

Aegon’s hand moved to her neck, softly squeezing it. It didn’t harm her, if anything it would be seen as comforting. But she knew, she knew how Aegon worked. His hand traveled from her neck to her collarbone, touching the stone necklace that rested on her chest. “So pretty,” he whispered, fingering the stone. As he got bored of that, his hand traveled to her neckline. Right between her cleavage, he dipped his fingers under her hem, feeling the top of her breasts.

She looked beyond him and to the Iron Throne, feeling the oh, so familiar guilt mixed with pleasure wave crash upon her once again.

Aegon’s fingers moved from her chest, following the hem of the neckline of the dress up to her sleeve, and pushed her left sleeve down exposing her shoulder. “What shall your punishment be?” he asks her, bending over slightly to kiss her shoulder ever so softly. His hand moved to her cheek now, cupping it and forcing her to look at him once again.

“Punishment? What for?” she asked. He couldn’t tell if she was toying with him or being serious. He let out a cruel little laugh. “For being late to my summoning and disobedient to your King.” he scoffed, stating his words like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You treat me as such even though I treat you so kindly. Do you know how many coins this dress cost the crown?” he asked, pulling down her other sleeve. She shook her head no.

“More than I pay any one of these useless studs in a year.” he said, looking around at the six guards that stood obediently in the throne room. They all looked the same and sat perfectly still, their only intention to protect this arrogant man and the crown.

She quite adored the dress. Aegon really did well with this gift, it was spot on to what she wished for. Perhaps above her wildest dreams of what it could be, it most definitely exceeded her expectations from their… their strange agreement. The dress, in every aspect, seemed tailor-made for her. It was neck tied with a few buttons around the back of her neck and with a short sleeve. It was colored a deep gold and bronze. The colors seemed to breathe life into the fabric, casting a radiant glow that shimmered with every movement she made. The neckline plunged, showing off her assets quite nicely. It had beautiful traditional embroidery, one fit for a noble of quite high standings. The waistline, designed with precision and purpose, hugged her curves in all the right places, accentuating her frame with a subtle grace. A bust of gold adorned the ensemble, meeting at her navel and drawing attention to her slender waist, creating a beautiful pattern that enhanced her natural beauty. It was floor length and seemed fit for a Queen.

“You will behave. Even if I have to teach you a lesson. It’ll do you better than any of those stupid Septas teaching you how to be a Lady.” he whispered to her, now grabbing her hand at her side and entwining his fingers with hers. It was a surprisingly kind gesture, one she didn’t expect from him.

He led her to stand in front of the Iron Throne, her back to the chair and he stood a step below her. It felt almost wrong, as he was the King and she was just a noble Lady. She looked at him with a confused face, unsure of what he was doing. Aegon had a terrible grin displayed as he looked her up and down once more. Aegon placed his hand on her stomach, pushing her back into the throne.

“Aegon what are you…”

He shushed her quickly and harshly.

“You will obey. Do you hear me?”

She nodded. He got down on his knees, reaching out one of his hands for her to place her hand in. He graciously accepted her hand, kissing it slowly, giving each finger its deserved attention. She was flushed, embarrassed at what the guards must have been viewing at that moment.

Little did she know, that was the easiest part of this she would have to endure in terms of embarrassment.

“Did I ever tell you how pretty your hands are? So gorgeous.” he kissed her palm. “Especially when they are around my cock. That’s my favorite, seeing your pretty little fingers work for me.”

Her eyes widened as he said these words. A red tint came to her cheeks, but that only made Aegon want more of a reaction from her.

Aegon dropped her hand, now placing his hands on both of her thighs over her dress. “I want no complaints from your lips. Do you understand?”

She was hesitant to answer him again. Furrowing his brows, he was angered by her rebellion. He grabbed down on her thighs harder now, his thumb trailing dangerously close to her core. His eyes met hers once again, waiting for a response.

“Mhm,” she whined out, feeling the pressure building between her thighs.

“Good girl.”

With a sudden movement, his hands left her thighs over her dress. Aegon lifted her legs to his shoulders, each leg resting on each shoulder. He moved his hands to cradle her lower back, pulling her closer to his face. She squirmed, as she did not expect this move from him at all. She didn’t have time to complain. His hands delved under her skirt, pulling at her undergarments and swiping a finger over her bundle of nerves.

He laughed at her reaction, watching her squirm under his touch was one of his favorite sights.

“Hold your pretty present for me.” he ordered, speaking sweetly with a hint of cruelty as he bunched up her skirt, holding the expensive fabric in his hands for her to grasp. She listened.

“B-but Aegon, the guards.” she protested. He looked at her and rolled his eyes, smirking and staring at her with a look that she was the most idiotic woman in the world. “Fuck the guards, my love. Perhaps they’ll enjoy the pretty little noises you’ll make for me. Stroke their own cocks to the memory of your wails after their shift.”

She gasped at his words in shock. Her gasp was followed up with another one, but a pleasurable one. Without warning, Aegon delved his face between her thighs and began lapping eagerly at her cunt. There was no warning, just an over sense of his tongue on her.

Y/N let out a guttural groan, her hands moving straight to his hair. She pulled ever so lightly, her head resting against the back of the throne as he worked his magic. “But if anyone… if anyone were to see.” she says between breaths, now looking down at his blonde head between her thighs. He stopped momentarily and looked up at her. He licked his lips, as her juices dripped off his chin.

“Then they will see that I am very obviously busy.”

He returned to his place between her thighs, but this time brought a finger to her and inserted it.

“Aegon!” she cried out as he did, pushing herself forward and more eagerly into his grasp. She could feel his chuckle on her cunt as he stopped momentarily. He kissed her and continued his multitasking of eating her out and fingering her. His nose sat perfectly within her. It was almost as if his nose was made just for her cunt.

He works for a while more, he could feel her pulsating around his fingers. This only drove him more mad, as if he was drunk off of her. He inserted another finger, revealing another groan from her that went straight to his cock. He pumped in her faster by the second, he was sure she was going to cum any minute now. “Are you close?”

She nodded eagerly. A smile came to his lips. “Do you want to cum?” he asked, his wrist beginning to hurt with the angle he was pumping his fingers in and out of her. Oh, how he would suffer for her pleasure.

“Use your words,” he says sharply. “Tell me how you want it.”

“I-I…” she could barely form a sentence. “Tell me,” he ordered her. “Beg for it,”

Her hips rolled against his touch as she cried out for him. “P-please, let me cum.” she whispered out, with all her might she had left.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you, dear.” Aegon teased her cruelly, her words weren’t enough to satisfy his needs. “Say my name like I’m yours, like you fucking mean it.”

“Aegon,” she breathed out, trying her best to keep her eyes open. “Louder,” he demanded. “Say it like you mean it.”

“Aegon!” she blurted out, loud enough for anyone down the hallway to hear her voice. “Just like that, yes.” he praised her, brushing his free hand up her thigh. His touch sent chills down her spine, a foreshadowing of what was about to come. He could feel her heat rising, her climax was definitely near. He kissed her thigh, looking up at her pretty face as she moaned, her head bowed back and her left hand in his locks. This is exactly how he wanted her; this was what she deserved. A fitting punishment for a brat such as herself.

“Yes, you can do it. Come on my fingers, pretty girl.” he says, moving his fingers to her clit and circling it just as he knew she enjoyed it. She tried to speak his name, but she couldn’t process the syllables to do so. She had used the last remnants of her voice moaning his name only seconds ago as he had requested. Only a strange mutter mixed with a moan came from her. “Oh yes, just like that.” he says, adding now a third finger temporarily, stretching her out. Aegon was pleased by her lack of words. She nods as he does so, with her hands moving from being entwined in his hair to absolutely anything around her.

Usually, when they were in bed, she would grasp the sheets when she became close. It was something to ground her, making her feel stable in her weak state as she would cum. Now as she was surrounded by swords, there wasn’t much to hold on to. But that thought didn’t occur to her, as she was too obsessed with the orgasm that currently racked through her body. She let out a cry as she stupidly grasped a sword, slicing her finger as she came.

Aegon didn’t notice this at first, all he could do was watch her cunt clamp down on his fingers. He smirked evilly as he kissed her slit once more, then grabbed the bunched-up dress from her waist and made her modest once again.

She was still breathing heavily from her orgasm, but her eyes were on her now sliced finger. “Fuck,” she whispered. That caught Aegon’s attention. He now stood in front of her, ready to scold her for her language, but then saw her wound.

“You stupid woman.” he scoffed, grabbing her wrist. He inspected the cut. “How could you be so dumb? Grabbing the Iron Throne?” he asked, looking at her with a certain look of disdain.

“I suppose you want me to fix it.” he groaned, looking into her eyes. A sense of embarrassment has filled her, more than already had. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes.

“Good. You’ve learned your lesson.” he smiles with dead eyes, his power trip coming to its height as he praised her.

He takes her finger into his mouth, licking off the blood. Y/N groaned as he did, as his tongue swiped the cut roughly. Aegon enjoyed watching her in pain, swirling his tongue on her cut as he did with her clit just minutes ago.

After the wound was empty of blood, he swallowed hard. So obviously, letting her know that her blood now rested in his throat. As a way to let her know that he truly does own her.

“Do you want a bandage? I would hate for that to get infected.”

He lets go of her hand.

She inspected her now-cleaned cut, but more blood seemed to seep through. Y/N knew all too well that it wouldn’t be that easy with Aegon.

“Do you want one?” he asks her. She nods. He comes close to her once again, grabbing her chin like he did before, and looked into her eyes, their faces only inches apart. “Use your words, love.” he says quietly but dominantly.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” he asks, raising her chin slightly.

“Yes, please.”

“Good girl.” he purred once again. Aegon snapped his fingers at the nearest guard, and within seconds a bandage is delivered to him, along with some sanitizing liquid in a vile. The guard returns to his place. Y/N struggled to look the man in the eyes, knowing all six guards heard her moments before.

He carefully took her hand, treating it with such grace. “Such a shame to see your pretty fingers hurt. Be more careful next time, dear. I don’t like my things to be broken.”

Aegon took some of the sanitizer and placed it on her cut. It made her pull back her hand slightly as she seethed at the pain. “You could have warned me,” she hissed. Aegon rolled his eyes. “Watch your tongue, girl. I am doing you a favor.”

He closed the vile and placed it in his pocket, and began to unwrap the bandage. “Is it too tight?” he asked her, looking up at her with kind eyes. She knew that his care wouldn’t last long, so she enjoyed it while she could. “No, my King. Just right.” she replied. He smiled as she used his proper title, the feeling of love he had for her returning momentarily. Aegon tied off her bandage, lifting her wrist and kissing her finger.

"There we go," he says proudly, looking from her hand and back to her. Aegon was in awe of what was his. She looked absolutely gorgeous in her post-orgasm state. He huffed proudly.

“All better.”

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @mandoloriancookie @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25 @nyotamalfoy @milly-louise @mxtokko

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caustinen · 3 months

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Omg I’m actually so in love with your Hollywood au 😭😭 do you have any headcanons for them? Like how they started dating, or what they do on a daily basis, general domestic things!!

Hi!! Sorry I took so long to reply but your ask sent me SPIRALLING — this whole au was such a random quick thing and I never expected it to go anywhere, but thinking of a response to this I got so into it I might actually manage to write something!

Just the first meeting hc got so ridiculously long that I’ll respond to the domestic hc’s (I HAVE SO MANY) on a separate post and tag you! Thank you for the inspiration luv 💘

HOLLYWOOD AU! First meeting:

Their first impressions are not very good… John hasn’t made it big yet but he’s definitely getting some attention so he decides to relocate to Hollywood and find a good PR-team around himself despite having always thought that the marketing/branding side of his profession is capitalistic nonsense — and while he has changed his attitude to the exctent of ”if you can’t beat them join them”, he’d still expect all the suits to be cold business men who don’t care about the art of it all.

Gale on the other hand expects all actor clients to be self-obsessed nepo pricks; he’s been climbing in the industry steadily for years and enjoys the challenge of bringing the best versions of people out and finding them their best options (he takes pride in being very good at what he does) but since initially he ended up in the industry through his love for film, he’s also often annoyed by the up-and-coming stars who only care for the fame.

Loud, relaxed and seemingly no-care-in-the-world John fits this prejudice perfectly, as does John’s expectation for an uptight, borderline rude PR-executive in a suit — at the end of the meeting he chooses a much more laid-back seeming guy called Brady to represent him, and Gale is relieved he’s not stuck with him, he really is, despite the teasing, annoying smile of that bastard refusing to leave his mind for the rest of the day.

Their second meeting is somehow WORSE, in a week or so a meeting runs long so Brady invites John to after-work drinks. Gale looks so different out of his suit (now in a white t-shirt and black pants that hug his waist tightly, hair mussled and curlier after a long day of running his hands through it) that Bucky is absolutely blinded for a second and goes to introduce himself flirtily. Gale stares at him for a bit before informing him they met last week and while John is able to laugh it off with the others, this doesn’t exactly help with Gale’s image of him (why can’t i get that smirk off my mind when he couldn’t even bother to note me??)

It doesn’t help that Bucky gets very drunk and keeps seeking his company, not caring he’s only receiving grunts as reply to his stories told draped over the blonde’s shoulders as Gale sips on his non-alcoholic beer (he also shares the Buck story and starts calling him Buck like in the show), and whatever progress John might’ve done to make him almost smile a couple of times is undone immediately as he flirts with everyone else just as much when he leaves Gale’s side, cementing him in Gale’s mind as a playboy who’s gotten a bit too into his own head with his modest success lately and decides to forget all about him.

After that they run each other a couple of times at the office and social gatherings, and things are civil enough, they chat briefly each time but there’s some strange tension between them that makes Gale uneasy and John confused and a bit frustrated because he usually gets along with everyone but this man just seems to be immune to his usual charm; he can’t understand why the man is seems so cold and barely ever speaks up, that sweet smile he rarely sees him show others is completely wasted on him in his opinion.

They only properly meet again at a premier of John’s new movie a couple of months down the road, the first one under Gale’s firm, and end up in the backroom between the red carpet and John walking into the theater post-film (Brady is busy with organizing everything) and it’s TENSE, they’ve never been in a room by just the two of them and John is obviously nervous wreck which makes him antsy and Gale isn’t making any effort to make small-talk to ease his nerves (he’s not a natural at that okay, and esp with John he doesn’t know what to say)

Only when John is basically doubled over on the couch groaning into his hands as the film approaches its end Gale is forced to interfere. ”Why are you so upset?” ”They’re gonna hate it.” Gale is thrown off, never expecting to see this vulerable side underneath all that loud confidence. ”They’re not gonna hate it.” John scoffs. ”And how would you know?” Gale frowns, annoyed. ”Listen, it’s not Casablanca but you had to know that walking into the project, and you give it enough life to keep the tension up ’till the end. This is your best work since Thorpe Abbotts so just sit back and relax.”

John stares at him, mouth open, despair forgotten for a while. ”You know my work?” he asks, blindsighted, and Gale blushes and turns away. ”Maybe. I go to most films they show in my local theatre so don’t make too much of it.” John doesn’t have time to digest the words properly before he’s ushered to take the applause of the crowd, but it stays with him.

Things shift after that. John starts to pay attention to what Gale says, and realizes while he might speak rarely, when he does it’s always meaningful and thought-out. When Brady wants to make him do some new audition tapes he asks him to bring some of his collegues for second opinions, and he’s satisfied to see Gale roll up to the little studio they’ve rented one afternoon.

Wanting to impress Gale apparently works wonders because he feels like he reaches a new level with scene they’re working with, and the feedback reflects this. Even Gale gives him an approving nod, which somehow sends butterflies down his insides.

He turns his show-off when they go for drinks as a group next time to actually have a conversation with the blonde, and it turns out Gale is OBSESSED with old hollywood — whenever things were bad in his childhood home (often) he’d hide himself into the world of fiction of all kinds, and he’s seen an obscene number of films and loves learning trivia about it too, film star biographies are his favorite genre of books. He used to go to his little local movie theatre so much he was eventually offered a job there and could help with picking the movies, but his brief dreams of being an actor were never realized as he knew he needed a less pecarious job to give himself the stability his childhood home didn’t offer.

Learning these pieces of information draws John even more facinated with him, and Gale seems to be laughing at more and more of his jokes too. Once Gale lets his guard down he has also started to see John underneath the bravado, and makes mental notes to check out the books he recommends and he might even lightly flirt back these days, secretly enjoying the those dark, observant eyes fixed on him and squeezing into a surprised smile.

All in all, it’s been going better for a while until a faithful day, when they’re doing another auditiong tape. Bucky’s been rejected from a film he really wanted earlier that day, and his previous film has gotten some lukrwarm reviews upon getting into streaming services, so he’s in a shitty mood, and the unimpressed faces Gale keeps making annoy him to no end.

They call it a day and they agree to meet at a bar closeby to start the weekend and get everyone’s spirits up. The beer only serves to make Bucky more upset tho, espescially when he sees Gale hitting it up with someone who walks up to him, laughing at his stuff and looking relaxed in a way he never quite does with him. A bit drunk and a lot angry he follows him to the bathroom, Gale noticing him as he walks in with the same swing of the door. He turns around and greets him, the smile from talking to that whatever dude still lingering on his lips being John’s final straw.

”Oh, so you can be happy? Thought it was fucking impossible to achieve.” Gale’s smile immediately drops and his posture shifts, arms crossing over his chest. ”What are you talking about?” ”You’re always making those faces no matter what I do. You’ll ruin your pretty face with all that frowning.” ”What on earth are you-” ”When I try to talk with you. Or when I do a scene and you’re supposed to help but you just keep looking at me like I’m an idiot. I don’r get it.”

Gale starts to get upset too now, something John has never seen before, his calmness finally breaking. ”What do you want me to say?!” ”I don’t know, be fucking supportive for once?!” ”I am being supportive by being honest! Do you think that was the best you can do?” It surprises John, but he’s already too worked up to back down. ”Well what if it is?” They’ve gotten closer to each other in the empty men’s room, and Gale’s hands are no longer crossed, he’s pointing at John’s chest and staring him down. ”You have so much goddman potential, John Egan, and it’s killing me to see you waste it like that. Reach for something bigger. Get more complex charachters, more nunaced scripts. If it takes you hating me to hear that then so be it.” John scoffs despite the blush trying to creep to his cheeks. ”Well since you know fucking everything maybe you should help me find those roles.” ”I’m not your agent, or your publicist, or your mom, or your boyfriend, I don’t see how it’s any of my-” They’re practically yelling at each other, and without thinking John takes the wrist of Gale’s hand poking his chest to his and pushes it down so they’re chest to chest, noses almost touching, so close they’ve gotten. ”Maybe you could just help me out if you didn’t hate me so much.” John isn’t yelling anymore, and all of Gale’s nerves are on fire, he can feel John’s breath on his cheeks, his own pulse pounding in his chest. ”I don’t hate-” And that’s as far as he gets before John crashes their lips together, the small movement inevidable as the sun coming up each morning.

Gale makes a muffled sound into the kiss and goes to grab his shirt, pulling him closer as John reaches to cup the back of his head. The kiss is just as messy and teethy and perfect as the months of growing tension between them has promised. Gale wants to climb him and bite him and drag him down the floor, his own desire punching air out of him as John stumbles until his back hits the wall, his big hand protecting his head from the hard impact. They are lost in it until their lips are swollen and bruised and they’re both more than half-hard after being pressed so tightly together, and Gale bites his abused lips to silence a moan trying to escape him as John dips down to suck and lick on his sweaty neck, his own hand tangling in his curls and pulling and feeling victorious as John makes a choked sound. He pulls until their eyes meet again, and he’s sure his own pupils are as big as John’s as they stare at each other for a moment, both of them trying to catch their breath like they just ran a marathon. ”You drive me fucking insane,” Gale grits at him, and John laughs a short sound. ”I drive you insane?! You’re the one prancing around… Being all, you know, intelligent and sexy with your James Dean features and Paul Newman eyes.” Gale stares at him for a little bit, mouth open, before pulling him into another kiss.

They go back to Gale’s eventually (Gale comes back to himself enough to realize he does not want to be caught with all his collegues on the other side of the bathroom wall) and they make out for a while more, little less heated but just as passionate, but when it’s getting more intense again John has a moment of clarity and pulls away. He’s drunk and tired and overwhelmed and he doesn’t want this to be just a hook-up. Gale understands but asks John to stay the night anyway and he ends up sleeping on his coach that night. It’s a bit awkward in the morning because neither of them really knows what to say and John’s just about to leave, thinking this was a mistake after all, when Gale suggest they’d watch a movie, and the nervous hope in his face grips John’s heart enough to realize there’s no walking away from what he’s started to feel for this man. They watch a film, and another, and by the third the funny commentary both of them make has shifted into the movie playing in the background as they make out, Gale in John’s lap, and it feels right.

John ends up staying the whole weekend, they just watch films and make dinner together and get to know each other. John is scared he’ll overstay his welcome but Gale makes it feel natural, and the exciting newness of it all is addicting, and perhaps exactly because they’ve had to overcome so many of their own prejudices about the other everything feels more vibrant and exciting. Seeing Gale relaxed and smiely and silly and nervous as he rolls his eyes at him when he sings along to the radio as they cook makes his heart miss a beat. He’s completely prepared to not go further than kissing for now but after a delicious, footsie heavy dinner on Sunday evening at Gale’s kitchen they finally end up in bed, and it feels just right that their first time together is slow and searching and absolutely perfect, and they get the final confirmation that their chemistry seems to be working out pretty fucking well.

After that weekend, John never accepts a role without running it by Gale first (they often read them together naked in bed on the weekends, making each other giggle while dramatically imaging the scenes while leaning into each other amongst the fluffy pillows), and within a year he’s a rising star and his name is on everyone’s lips, but he’s only got one pair of lips in mind.

It isn’t just smooth sailing after that either, navigating a relationship and his career and the publicy, but as slow as their love might have started it’s all the more steady for it, and it never stops growing.

SORRY THIS GOT SO INTENSE!!! Literally all of this came to me as I thought how to respond to your ask so thank you for being a major motivation 🖤

#buck x bucky #clegan #mota #masters of the air #gale cleven #john egan #writing #buck #bucky #hollywood au

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the-s1lly-corner · 10 months

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TADC cast x short and fluffy reader? (Maybe the reader has an extra fluffy tail)

TADC cast x short and fluffy!reader !

Ooo I wanna make brioche, but I also wanna make macarons... but I also wanna make scones... OOOOOO but I also wanna make butterscotch haystacks (having a crisis) (this is totally unrelated to the ask I just be yappin)

CAINE:

Now to be fair, you didnt specify how short you are so to Caine you're probably just normal sized/j .. absolutely loves your fluff, probably runs his hands through it every chance he gets, regardless of if its hair, feathers, or fur! Since you're on the smaller side he can pro comfortably hold you in his arms while flying around! Loves showing you how the grounds look from above, I think!

No thoughts only Caine taking you up to fly over the grounds while its nighttime and you see all the lights down below and everything looks so pretty!!

He wont drop you I promise

POMNI:

You're normal sized in her eyes/j

Keeps her hands to herself but if you offer to let her pet your tail! Good stress relief, I think! Pomni never really initiates it before you offer, though, since she doesnt really want to invade your personal bubble

Please communicate with her that it's fine and it's not something you mind!

RAGATHA:

Occasional pets! She kind of lies somewhere between pomni and jax in terms of how much shes going to pet you without any prompting! More so a head pats person than a tail.. stuff?? Trust me the "tail stuff" makes more sense when you read jax's part..! Doesnt make fun of you for your height, i just cant see ragatha doing that. I was originally gonna say she would make petnames for you based on it, but I'm not actually sure she would.. has probably made bows and stuff for your tail!

JAX:

(Bumping my fists on the table) jax fidget hc jax fidget hc !!!!! Messes with your tail when its within reach; usually just messing with the fur or lightly bapping it around and watching it instinctively move around in response! He would already tease you for being shorter than him... but if you're actually below the average height (or at least, the average within the digital world) then hes gonna lean really into it! Makes a show of getting something down for you, probably overstretches himself and gets on his tip tops to sell the point (he, of course, not needing to do any of thst thanks to his height)

KINGER:

The "how to talk to short people" meme but hes on the incorrect side by crouching down to your height/j he doesnt mean anything rude by it..! Sometimes likes to mess with your tail by petting the fur when you guys cuddle inside the pillow fort! Honestly I can see him with a fidgeting habit, too, like jax! But I think his is less intense and he has a little more restraint.. that said once you give him the go ahead hes gonna be constantly petting your tail if it's long enough

ZOOBLE:

(Watches your tail swish around) "oh... cool.."

Zooble doesn't exactly feel this way or that about your tail, however I will say you extra fluff makes cuddling with them more enjoyable since they look like they're made of hard plastic (Zooble I'm sorry I love you)

Probably lightly teases you for your height; not to the extent jax does it but they probably let out a flat "haah.. short.." when you briefly struggle with something non important

GANGLE:

Short person x person who can (physically and emotionally) be knocked down easily; you guys both have your own struggles/j

Would never ever in a million years make any mean comments on your height, and this includes teasing and nicknames; she doesn't have the heart to even lightly poke fun at you

Petting can be a little weird, since gangle doesnt exactly.. have hands.. I mean she does, but they're like the ends of ribbon; she doesnt have palms or fingers, nor can she put the most force behind her touches (at least that's my personal hc, she doesnt strike me as someone who's. Strong... or even proportionally strengthed? Idk shes ribbon)

Very silly she loves it when your tail starts swishing around when you see her!!

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #ragatha x reader #jax x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

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joelswritingmistress · 9 months

Text

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 8

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

My appetite had betrayed me. I tried to enjoy being on a formal date with Dr. Miller, if that's what it was. I knew I should have been more grateful. I was. I was flattered that he wanted to take me out properly. No, not flattered. Honored. My mind, however, had fallen victim to the honeymoon phase - an element so excitingly unfamiliar and barely explored.

“You want to get out of here,” he said matter-of-factly, cutting through the last piece of steak on his plate.

“I love it here,” I said honestly, toying with a sliced potato and glancing at the fire a few feet away.

“You've barely touched your chicken.” Dr. Miller motioned with the knife. He then forked the last bite from his plate and extended an arm across the table. “Maybe the steak is more up your alley.”

I leaned forward and let him serve me the bite of meat. My teeth grazed over the metal fork and I saw him watching the movements of my lips as I pulled it completely into my mouth.

“Mmm..” came his one syllable response as if he was the one enjoying it. I echoed the noise and drew my hand across my lips as I began to chew.

“How is it?” He asked.

I smirked when his Adam's Apple rose and fell in his throat as I took a small sip from my wine glass. “Delicious.”

Dr. Miller winked and I made the bold move to snake my foot just a few inches up the leg of his pants. The expression on his face suddenly changed and he swallowed hard again.

“You're going to get us kicked out of here,” he growled quietly. “I have a difficult time controlling myself.. especially around you.”

His tone was playful but I could see that he was serious about the lack of control thing. A part of me wanted to push his limits; to see just how much he could take.

“Well, so much for taking my napkin off my lap.” His eyebrows lifted with playful accusation and I couldn't help but giggle.

“I'm sorry.”

“You're fuckin’ gunna be.” He drank down the rest of his bourbon like a shooter and smacked his lips, waving down the waitress as he did. “Check please.”

The two words made me weak in the knees. What was to come next? I couldn't wait. Since meeting Dr. Miller my life felt like one giant wild ride; and I couldn't get enough.

When I offered to pay he laughed and kept the check to himself before leading the two of us out of the little restaurant. It was then that it dawned on me that it might have come across as rude for not eating much of the meal he had bought for me.

The Mercedes quickly came into view on the street and I sighed. “I'm sorry I didn't eat. It's just-” Dr. Miller cut me off, pulling me to him with the force of ten men and our lips connected in a hard, needy kiss. It left me breathless when he finally released me.

My eyes were still closed and I felt his hand on my face. When they reopened he was still there in close proximity. Our noses almost touched and his touch was so soft - a drastic contrast to the red hot kiss he had just initiated.

“Don't apologize for not eating when you're not hungry,” Dr. Miller instructed and then added, “Get in the car.”

I couldn't move from the spot until he made the separation first. I craved his touch, his comfort, his closeness. I craved his praise, his lips, his demands..

The ride back to his house left me constantly adjusting in my seat. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to touch him. With every turn onto a new street I knew we were closer but I didn't know how close.. until we pulled up to a set of steel gates at the dead end of an uninhabited back road.

Dr. Miller rolled his car to a halt and turned to look at me in the darkness. “I'll be right back.”

I nodded and watched as he vacated the vehicle. Every horrific scene from the horror movies I’d seen over the years played in my head like some fanmade TikTok or YouTube video. Doubt began its rapid descent into my brain as I sat there alone in the dark.

I barely know him. Is this his house? Where are we? Could he be dangerous? He said I would be sorry. Did I completely misread what he meant by that?

A loud, heavy clunk made me jump and my already-surging adrenaline went into overdrive. Dr. Miller reentered the car and closed the door. His presence simultaneously made me feel safer and more uneasy.

“Is, uh.. is this your house?”

“Yes.” He motioned to where the headlights illuminated the gates as they had begun to ease open. “I just had to unlock the gate.”

I gave a nod. It didn't give way to the angst that had suddenly made my body feel tense and every other part of me feel vulnerable. No one I had ever known personally had steel gates blocking the entrance to their house. Dr. Miller's suddenly strained posture contributed to the subtle glance I made over my shoulder.

The gates closed behind us, much to my dismay. I didn't even know where we were. If there was an emergency of some kind I didn't even know how I would begin my getaway.

What are you branding him as? You were ready to marry the guy ten minutes ago.

My own erratic ways of thinking had me worried. Nothing about my actions were rational and here I was breaking every single rule in the history of lectures given to women.

Strange man. Check. Telling no one where you would be. Check. Middle of nowhere. Check.

I glanced down at my cell phone, partially expecting there to be no service but I was pleased to see that I had full bars and plenty of battery.

“You enjoy your privacy huh?” I asked with a nervous laugh as we drove slowly up a windy driveway. It felt like we were climbing a mountain.

Dr. Miller laughed. “That I do.” He glanced in my direction now and looked me up-and-down. “The code to get out is 2003.”

“Oh..” I toyed with the hair on the side of my head. “Umm.. okay.” Did I look that tense?

The short ride to the top felt like a twelve-second panic attack. When the oversized dwelling came into view, however, my jaw dropped. “This is your house?” I couldn't hide my state of astonishment.

The house was made of stone and had two stories with a third, smaller level that sat at the very top. An unattached garage sat tucked away under a collection of tall oaks and maples. Everything about the property was extravagant.

Dr. Miller gave a modest nod and used a clicker from the visor to lift one of the oversized garage doors. My eyes drank it all in. His garage was nicer than my house.. and probably comparable in size.

There were two flatscreens on the left and right walls, a bar, a loft that went to places I could only imagine, not to mention two other lavish cars and an oversized truck.

What did he do to get all this money? I knew salaries for professors weren't at all adding up to what the estate was worth - not even close.

Inheritance?

When Dr. Miller killed the engine I raised my eyebrows at him. “Are you.. are you Batman or something?” There was a nervousness in my voice and in my attempt at a laugh.

He smirked but didn't say anything and exited the vehicle. “Come on.”

I took a deep breath and exited the Mercedes with one, swift movement as if I was ‘ripping off the band-aid’, so to speak. My eyes danced over the lavish nature of the garage’s interior though Dr. Miller's hand quickly found mine as he towed me out into the darkness.

The questions I had were piling up in my head, though as a new one entered it was as if another disappeared. By the time we reached the front steps my mind was blank.

There was no turning back when the heavy, oversized door swung open, making way to a magnificent interior; again, the type of thing you would see in a magazine. I was waiting to turn the corner and find a waterfall full of money with models sitting around sipping champagne.

“I can take your coat,” he offered, extending an arm as we stood by a coat rack a step inside the front door. With a fine click seemed to echo off the walls we were left alone inside.

“Thanks.” I slipped my arms out of the jacket and those same warm, fuzzy feelings finally returned when his hands grazed my shoulders. My imagination had temporarily taken the fun out of my fantasy evening.

Enjoy it, I instructed myself, stop thinking so negatively! I then quietly added, and dark.

Dr. Miller shrugged out of his own coat and took me by the hand. “Not to be cliche but do you enjoy champagne?”

I nodded. “We have Asti at every family holiday party.”

He turned and gave a genuine smile as we entered the kitchen. It was up to par with the rest of the house. “What are your family gatherings like?”

The question made me feel more at ease. It was light; genuine.

“Umm..” I grinned as he carefully removed a bottle of champagne from the stainless steel refrigerator and then reached for a pair of glasses from a cabinet above. “It's very low key most of the time.. well, all of the time. We usually have appetizers, a drink or two.. then the main course. There's lots of laughing and bringing up old, embarrassing memories.”

I could feel myself beaming as I spoke of my family. “Then there's usually dessert and coffee.. a night cap and some type of card game or board game.”

Dr. Miller popped the champagne and smiled again. “Sounds nice.” It was a simple reply but I could tell he was being honest.

“It is,” I agreed. “I just wish we got to see each other more, ya know?”

He nodded. “I do.”

“Do you live alone?”

“I do,” he repeated.

I watched the bubbly beverage fill the glasses, nearly to the brim, and could tell he wasn't going to elaborate. Maybe there was nothing to elaborate on.

“Thank you.” I accepted the glass and was pleased when he towed the bottle to a cozy living room. The lights were dim. A fireplace sat waiting to be lit in front of an oversized, espresso sofa. The only thing that separated the two was an industrial, wooden coffee table. It felt.. romantic.

Dr. Miller set the bottle and his glass down on the coffee table, sliding a coaster in front of me. I sat down on the very edge of the couch as he got the fire started.

When he turned he let out a chuckle and reached for his glass before slinking in beside me. “You can get more comfortable than that,” he motioned to my stiffened posture as he sat all the way back on the couch. One foot rested on his knee and his arm extended across the back of the couch.

I took the most subtle deep breath that I could manage and leaned all the way back, feeling his forearm against my shoulder blades.

Dr. Miller raised his glass. “What do you want to toast to?”

I was speechless. All of my feelings for him had returned in full force. If it was even possible, he looked even better in the dim light with the fire’s dancing flames casting shadows on his face. I couldn't think of anything.

Cat got your tongue? I taunted myself in my mind.

“How about to.. trust.” He suggested when I didn't respond. It was a rather serious, abstract request; but I thought it was rather fitting.

“To trust.” There wasn't a thing he said I could disagree with.

Our glasses touched with a gentle clank and neither of us looked away from the other as we indulged in our first sip of the Dom Pérignon Rosé.

The evening felt far more romantic than the encounter within the university classroom’s walls. Still, the images, the sounds, the physical nature of that night were still fresh in my mind as we sat so close together in the firelight.

“Tell me about yourself.” Dr. Miller encouraged. He sipped from his glass again and held my gaze.

I couldn't keep a wide smile from my face as I turned more directly toward him. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything,” he went on, “What's important to you? What do you like to do?”

“My family.” That was an easy one, “I have a brother and a sister. I'm close with my parents. I have a nice circle of friends. A good job.” When he continued to stare at me as if waiting for more I fished through my brain for more, “I enjoy watching sports. I.. “ I gave a shrug and his dimples made home on his face again as he freed me with a smile.

“Does your family live nearby?”

“About an hour away. My brother is still living at home. He graduates from Ithaca this year. My sister is a cop.”

“No shit.” He huffed a laugh.

“No shit.” I nodded. “I got out of a ticket two years ago thanks to her.”

“Wow.” Dr. Miller scratched the bridge of his nose and glanced at the fire before our eyes found one another's again.

“What about your family?” I sipped on my champagne and waited eagerly for his response.

“Father was a welder. My mother worked in a tile factory and as a lunch monitor some days.” He shrugged. “And I have an older sister.”

Welder and a lunch monitor. Well, I thought I could rule out inheritance with regard to the miniature castle we were sitting in. His response, however, made me feel at ease; like at least our families were on the same playing field.

“What's your sister’s name?” I asked.

“Carol.” He gave a fleeting smile.

I smiled back. “Are you close with her?”

“I am.” Dr. Miller continued to smile. He then nodded his head just slightly. “Why did you agree to come here tonight?”

“So I could spend more time alone with you.” The sentence rolled off my tongue with above-average speed and grace - at least for me. I thought the one-sentence synopsis covered the book that was going through my mind of all the reasons I was sitting there beside him.

Goosebumps traveled down my extremities when Dr. Miller's fingertips came in contact with my shoulder while he enjoyed more of his champagne. “My first impressions are usually correct. And if I'm going with my best judgment, I'd say you and I could really have a good thing.”

That same heat filled my cheeks. Adrenaline and dopamine shot an eight-ball of warmth through my veins and I was certain I was glowing. “I do too.”

“Well, alright then.” The swig of champagne he took went down easily and he set it back down on the coffee table.

I did the same. Our hands were empty; bodies close. Could I touch him now?

“What did you think of the other night?” Dr. Miller asked.

My cheeks couldn't blush any harder than they already were. In that sense I felt camouflaged. “I was hoping something like that would happen,” I confessed. “And then when Trevor showed up-”

His laugh suddenly cut me off and I smiled wide. I was sure I knew of Dr. Miller's thoughts of Trevor, though he didn't elaborate after the hearty bout of laughter.

“I wouldn't mind doing something like that again,”I added. He appeared amused by the timid way that left my mouth from the Cheshire-cat like grin that was plastered across his face.

His eyes traveled the length of my body as I sat comfortably beside him on the sofa. I acted quickly when his hand snaked up from my shoulder to my face and his thumb danced on my lips.

This was like the beginning of every Dr. Miller-infused fantasy I’d had as of late. I accepted the tip of his thumb into my mouth and swirled my tongue in slow, calculated patterns.

My eyes focused on his and I was pleased to see that intense, eager look on his face. Everything about the man oozed sex. I wanted to rip my clothes off and jump on top of him - or rather have him do the first part for me.

“At dinner you told me I'd be sorry,” I muttered silently, partially hoping he hadn't heard me. It wasn't in my nature to be straightforward and I certainly didn't view myself as sexy. Still, I wanted to entice him. I wanted to draw out every intense, deep, dark part of him to unleash onto me.

Dr. Miller's four fingers tightened around my jaw and his thumb popped out from between my lips. It was quickly replaced by his own lips that mine welcomed to embrace like an old friend.

The fireworks returned. My body felt hot; all senses went numb except for touch. A bomb could have exploded outside and I wouldn't have heard it.

I let a moan out into his mouth, less embarrassed this time. There was no sense in holding back. We both knew what we did to the other. We both knew what we wanted. The feelings, the understanding, the primal need.. it was all a mutual concoction of lust.

When he pulled away I felt needy; I craved more. It was like just a nibble of my favorite candy. My entire oral cavity felt deserted; betrayed.

“We should take this someplace else.”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @amyispxnk @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115

#joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal x y/n #joel miller #joel miller x oc #pedro pascal x you #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro x reader #joel miller x original character #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x f!reader

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