#and he’s always saying nice stuff to me like calling me gorgeous
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~ ~ ~
#in the midst of simping for a completely unobtainable guy I somehow managed to find a different guy who could snap me out of it#we have so much in common and have the same sense of humor#a lot of our personality traits match up really well#he’s easy to talk to and always responds to my texts#we seem to have the same kind of passion and intensity about relationships#and he’s always saying nice stuff to me like calling me gorgeous#after we shared Facebook profiles and looked through each others stuff a bit he sent me a message saying ‘you’re so fuckin cute’#and let me tell you that fucking melted me#so idk when God closes a door he opens a window I guess right?#but wow do I like this new guy a lot#personal
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go fish!
so i fell in love with Sanji just like everyone else. i've never seen the one piece anime or read the manga so i'm solely going off of the live action.
i had fun writing this and plan to make this a series of some sorts where it's a fem!reader x Sanji moments of awkwardness, fluff, and mutual pining because i love reading that stuff myself. if anyone has any suggestions or requests for this series please leave a comment or send me an ask!
WARNINGS: none
word count: 1.3k
pairing: opla!sanji x reader
summary: reader and Usopp are playing a card game when Sanji finds them. teasing ensues.
prequel part 2 part 3 part 4 masterlist
“Care for a refreshment, Madam?” a smooth, deep familiar voice asked to your left, breaking your concentration on the card game in front of you.
“Hm?” you looked up from the cards in your hand and saw the Going Merry’s own chef looking down at you with a crooked, charming smile as he held a chilled glass bottle of water in his hand. “Oh, hey Sanji,” you greeted quickly with your usual smile as you looked back down at your hand. “What’d you say? Go fish Usopp.”
Your opponent across the barrel from you grumbled as he took the top card off the deck sitting between you both.
“I was just asking if the lovely madam sitting here would like a nice, cold refreshment on this particularly hot day?” Sanji asked again with a hint of amusement, his crooked smile deepening as he watched you study your hand once again.
“’Lovely madam’?” Usopp repeated sarcastically, his eyebrows pulling together. “What about offering her super buff, brave, and heroic opponent an ice-cold beverage instead?”
“Nope,” Sanji corrected, popping the 'p'. “Ladies first Usopp. Always.”
Even after knowing Sanji for a couple of months now, his consistent chivalry always managed to make your heart flutter.
You laughed lightly and couldn’t help but smirk as you said with a matter-of-fact, teasing tone, “Just say you wish you were a girl, Usopp. No judgment here.” You paused for a moment before asking, “You got the five of spades?”
“Now even though I would make an extremely attractive, gorgeous woman, I am a man through and through.” A grin broke out on Usopp’s face as he glanced at his hand and triumphantly called out, “Go fish, y/n.”
“Fair enough,” you hummed as you reached for a card. “And yes Sanji, I would love a glass of cold water. Thank you.” You shot a quick look of gratitude the chef’s way as you took a card from the deck.
Sanji placed the two glasses onto your makeshift barrell-table top he was holding in his left hand and started filling up the glasses with water. “Of course. Anything for the missus.”
Missus. Ugh. It made your heart skip a beat to hear him call you that. But you knew he didn’t really mean anything by it. It was just how Sanji spoke, forever the gentleman.
“Oof. If you keep sweet talking like that Sanji, you’re going to even make me blush, just like y/n,” Usopp joked.
Your eyes widened as your eyes snapped to look at your dumbass crewmate and friend sitting across from you. “I- I am not blushing Usopp!” God, if you both were using a real table instead of a barrel right now you would’ve broken his shine with your foot. You really weren’t blushing before but Usopp’s stupid comment definitely made your cheeks heat up now. “It’s the heat,” you hissed.
“’Heat’,” he mocked with air quotes and snorted. “Right.”
“I-” before you could defend yourself, Sanji spoke up.
“Actually,” the blonde chef chimed in with a light laugh as he filled the second glass, “that’s why I came over in the first place. You were looking a little flushed y/n, so I thought you guys could use a cold drink.”
Sanji’s words caused both you and Usopp to look up from your cards simultaneously, making eye contact with each other. A mischievous grin started to form on Usopp’s face as he saw the blush deepen on your face. You quickly looked back to your hand, suddenly finding the eight of clovers card extremely interesting.
Sanji saw you looking flushed? He saw you? From across the deck? From inside the kitchen’s window? He was watching you play cards? The thought of Sanji watching you when you didn’t expect him to made your stomach erupt in butterflies, and it certainly didn’t make your stupid little crush on him go away. Just the opposite. In fact, it just fueled your delusional fantasy even more.
And it certainly didn’t help that the only person who knew about your crush on the head chef just so happened to have a big mouth and loved to tease you about it any chance he got. And that he was sitting right across from you right now, watching all of this unfold right in front of him.
“Oh? So you were watching y/n and I play cards out here?” Usopp innocently asked his blonde crewmate, but you knew better. There wasn’t an ounce of true curiosity in his tone whatsoever.
“Yeah, from the kitchen,” Sanji answered casually as he recapped the glass water bottle.
“Usopp,” you warned.
“And you said that she looked ‘flushed’?” Usopp asked, quirking a brow at the end of his question as he turned his gaze from you to Sanji.
Sanji blinked in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together for a second before looking down at his crewmate. “Yeah...” he said slowly before continuing, “Her cheeks looked a little pink so I figured-”
“Oh?” Usopp asked, his voice becoming louder. “You noticed the color of her cheeks, from that far away?”
“Usopp,” you hissed louder but it fell on deaf ears. Once your friend got on a roll, there was little anyone could do about it. Especially when it came to teasing you about your feelings for Sanji.
“Yeah,” Sanji replied to Usopp’s question with a confused smile. “What are you-”
“GO FISH!” you blurted out loudly, cutting Sanji off and having both men turn their eyes towards you.
“Huh?” Usopp blinked his eyes at you, suddenly remembering the game in front of him. “But I didn’t even ask you anything y/n. And you just drew a card, so it’s your turn to ask me.”
You let out a quiet sigh of relief at the fact that Usopp stopped grilling Sanji with all of those embarrassing questions right in front of you....even though you couldn’t help but perk up at the fact that Sanji in fact had been watching you from the kitchen, and that he was sweet enough to bring you (and Usopp) some water.
“Well, I tried,” you shrugged and lied, “but you just kept yapping so you didn’t hear me. Do you have the Queen of hearts?”
Usopp studied you for a brief moment before looking at his cards, smirking to himself. “You know y/n, it’s funny you asked about the Queen of hearts,” he said as he plucked the requested card from his hand and reached out to give it to you, “since you make heart eyes yourself whenever you look at-”
“GOOD game Usopp!” you practically yelled as you threw your cards down onto the barrel and stood up, hoping your outburst drowned out the name Usopp was about to so stupidly blurt out. You shook his free hand with both of yours as you said, “You totally win my friend.”
“What?” Sanji laughed slightly as he watched you and Usopp shake hands. The poor guy was as confused as ever. “But the game isn’t over.”
You looked Usopp dead in the eye as tightened your grip on his hand. “Oh no, it’s over. He definitely won.”
Yeah, he won alright. He won the game of making your life a living hell and embarrassing you in front of Sanji. He won the gold medal in that game.
“I sure did,” Usopp agreed triumphantly, putting his cards down.
You dropped his hand and took the glass of cold water that Sanji had so generously poured, the cold glass making you feel better already. “Thank you for this Sanji. I think I’ll go enjoy this on my hammock inside.”
You couldn’t bear to look at Sanji, feeling humiliated for no reason with your face on fire, you stepped away from the barrel sipping your water as you made your way across the deck towards the ship’s living quarters.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea y/n!” Usopp called, giddy from the high that could only come from successfully teasing a friend. “Maybe that’ll help calm down your flushed face!”
Before stepping inside, you flipped off a laughing Usopp, completely missing the brief look of disappointment in Sanji’s eyes as he watched you go.
#sanji x reader#sanji vinsmoke x reader#sanji#sanji vinsmoke#one piece#one piece live action#opla#one piece fanfiction#sanji fanfiction#fluff#opla fanfiction#i absolutely loved writing this and will write more#have this be a series of some sorts#bc who doesn't love idiots in love?#mutual pining#sanji x y/n#one piece x reader#go fish! au
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Scatterbrain
Word count: 18k+
They say it takes a village to raise a child.
To raise a girl as fine as Jang Wonyoung, you’d probably need 3 whole villages.
Two of those three villages would be used to train the way she walks because it’s perfect: classy, poised, elegant. The other one would have to work on her outfits because god would she need those. Hopefully the village doesn’t operate a Shein style manufacturing line. She’d hate that.
Her face is the definition of “striking the gene pool lottery”, and so is the rest of her body. Lanky arms and legs; toned, slim tummy; big, bright eyes that glimmer under the flashing lights. Personally, you like her “you’re on camera” smile the most. She knows this, and she always makes it a point to shoot it your way as she struts towards you. She stops half way to get a flute of Champagne, make that two actually, then grabs another. Those long legs can cover one hell of a distance, and they bring her right to you in a matter of seconds.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” she hands you the Champagne flute in her left hand, and the rings on it shine in the light, “cause it’s starting to feel like you’re just stalking me now.”
Of course, it’s the snarky remarks that open the conversation. Jang Wonyoung, airheaded as ever m’lady, and you sip on the Bubbly that she’s very nicely delivered to you. Wonyoung is, of course, a little bit of an airhead in your books (only because she believes that you’re always there for her, nothing else), and it’s never not hilarious to watch her draw her lips into a thin line. It’s not the first time she’s hearing this from you; it certainly won’t be the last. You can’t control where you’re posted to, but you know for a fact that you’ll see her again a couple months down the road.
Cause your meetings with Jang Wonyoung are through pure serendipity really, and you certainly will start calling it that after you read that one story. You know: the one where this guy cheats on his idol girlfriend, who he has a tense relationship with, with another idol that he happens to meet just about everywhere. There’s 0 communication between the two of you when these types of events come around, and neither of you know if either of you will be there or not. Actually, it’s just you really; neither of you know if you will be there.
“Here for Kwon Eunbi again? Or are you finding someone else?” This question of her’s is customary at this point. Never once has it been perfunctory.
“Well, I was actually here to try and catch an interview with Jo Yuri, but I guess you’ll do,” you reply. Wonyoung scoffs—so I’m second place then?—and you have to assuage her oh-so-damaged ego, “you’re making this inference on your own Princess. I never said anything remotely close to that.”
And it’s that smile on her face that makes you want to kiss her really. It’s gorgeous, it’s cute, it’s beautiful. She’s given you that damned smile so many times that you could probably draw it from memory, though you’d definitely butcher it. The dress is certainly doing it justice, and you watch it brush against the skin of her legs as she shifts her weight to the other foot. I’ve never been that good at inferences. You’re far better than me, Prince, and she’s playing with her hair: twirling and untwirling it around her finger. That ribbon atop her head… Her stylist certainly knows their stuff.
“Think I’ll win an award this year?” Her question draws you away from your thorough examination of her. You take a moment to think, and you have to say, it depends, but I think you could definitely get something in some category. She gives you this inscrutable look, and she’s chuckling to herself as she looks at the crowd and sips on her champagne. You can guess what she’s about to say next: quite the crowd today, huh? And you’d reply, “Don’t think that they’re all here for you”, and that would prompt her to shoot back with, “Then who are they here for? You?”.
But of course, when do things ever go according to plan?
“Have you thought about my offer?” she asks, and you’re caught off guard.
Cause here’s the history between you two: Middle school best friends, always kind of inseparable. She was the beauty queen, it girl, and she still is; you were the writer, head of the school magazine, and you’re pretty much writing for the rest of your life. Wherever you went with her, rumours followed—Are they dating? I think they’re just friends. Maybe she’s trying to be the front of the magazine?—but you never thought much of it. It was just a simple friendship to you, nothing more.
Then the kiss she gave you in high school changed it all.
It was a party, hosted by one of your mutual friends. She kissed you, and no, it wasn’t a Spin The Bottle forfeit, nor was it a dare of any sort; it was a sincere, tender kiss in the garden—unprompted, and away from any prying eyes and soft like silk chiffon. You have to admit, the sensation had your brain mired for a minute or so. But when you came back to your senses, you kissed her right back, and things got complicated after that.
No one knew of it; it was your little secret. Wonyoung became closer than ever, and next thing you know, she declares the two of you “exclusive” but not dating. It’s because her agency has that funky dating ban thing, and Wonyoung was desperate to find a loophole, albeit a little complex. Of course, you’re willing to stay “exclusive” with Wonyoung in secret, but you started to worry that it can’t stay this way for long after the two of you get out of high school.
But as fate would have it, your career paths meet at the crossroads, and now you see her every other month or so. You still text her when you can, and the “exclusive” relationship has sustained. Now that she’s an adult and she’s bringing in mad bucks for the agency, she’s informed you of some changes in her contact. From there, the offer was birthed, and you have left it unchecked for the past four months or so, “grey ticked” as she liked to call it.
“You haven’t texted in a while, thought you died,” she continues, leaning on her elbows against the table. “Thank god you’re alive, huh?”
You hoped that she’d just forget about it, but she’s more of a mnemonist than you give her credit for. An award show is the last place you expected to be caught off guard by Jang Wonyoung, but she’s definitely a master of surprise. I uh… I haven’t really thought about it, is a lie you tell her and yourself. She smiles enigmatically, downs the rest of her Champagne.
“Let’s talk about it tonight,” she touches your chest, and it’s soft like silk chiffon, “you know where to find me, Prince.”
She struts off to join the rest of her members, stops halfway to return her Champagne flute, then looks back at you over her shoulder to give you a small wave. You sip on your Champagne as the silk brushes against her skin.
It’s a heavy breath that leaves your mouth, and it’s the rest of the Champagne that goes in.
*
302.
Gold lettering, black plaque. It’s grand, pretty elegant. Suits her well.
Then the door opens.
In her bathrobe, Jang Wonyoung shoots her “you’re on camera” smile. You’re earlier than expected—she lets you in—Matter of fact, I thought you might not show at all.
And it’s a must to quip back, “thought you’d be asleep by now you big baby.”
When the door closes, it’s straight to work, and here’s how that normally goes: kissing, undressing, foreplay, then finally—fucking. Not that it has to follow that order or anything, but it’s the unspoken schedule that Wonyoung’s written up. God forbid anyone goes against what the princess is comfortable with, not that you’d ever try to either way. Your voice is barely a mumble past her lips—aren’t we supposed to talk about something?—and Wonyoung’s quick to dismiss any queries, “later. There’s always time for it later”.
So it’s the kiss that’s pulling you back into her. Her front teeth capture your bottom lip, pull, drags it back a little like she’s trying to unwrap you like a present. You hold her waist, and with gentle hands, you push her back against the wall. It’s not that you’re trying to get control or anything; you’re just attempting to give her something to work with, a place to rest as she starts to work on the buttons of your shirt.
“Are you already naked underneath that?” you whisper, though it’s more of a drawl than a whisper. In response, she momentarily stops with your buttons to slide a section of her bathrobe away, giving you a good look at a column of her naked, milky skin.
In short: Yes, she is very much naked under that robe.
“Don’t get distracted, my prince. Eyes up here.”
“You’re the one that made me look, princess.”
She’s evidently struggling with the last button of your shirt, and you have to let go of her for a moment to help her get it done. Then it’s off with the shirt, and she flings it against the door for convenience sake. Your belt’s next, and that’s taken care of before you can even say, let me undress you Princess. It does make her hesitate at the clasp of your trousers for a bit. Just for a bit.
“I’d like,” her fingers are moving again, and they’re awfully quick at unfastening your pants, “for you to unwrap me on the bed instead.”
How raunchy of her. Makes you want to try her on.
Your pants fall. Your hand slithers into the bathrobe. Her jaw drops. Wonyoung my darling, and your fingers have captured one of those perky breasts, the right one to be exact. How do you ever—it’s light pressure to the nipple for you; it’s mind melting for her—get away with being such a big slut? Look at you, I’m barely even squeezing here. You’d like to save that face she makes in a supercut of her other memorable faces: eyes wide, mouth agape and her chin tucked into her neck. Frame it up, take a step back, admire it. It’s the face of someone who’s pent up, the expression of a needy girl who’s been aching to get some dick. Maybe if you guys had met a little sooner, she wouldn’t be this sensitive. But now? A twist of your forefinger and thumb is all it takes to draw a cry out of her, a little more pressure is enough to rain hellfire upon her. What a crazy-hot mess she is; only god knows how to clean her up and get her sorted out.
Open mouth straight to your ear, Wonyoung lets out a breathy gasp. In your fingers, the stiff peak rolls between the pads—back, forth, back, forth: motions that make her weak in her knees. It’s with great effort that she pulls your face back to hers, captures you in her quivering lips. Elegance has long been thrown out the window by now, and it’s not going to be returning for quite some time, as if you ever need it at a time like this. She’s barely holding herself up at this point. Where did the prim proper Jang Wonyoung go?
The answer’s in her kiss—gone, dusted, she was here just a minute ago though. She’s grasping at whatever inch of your skin she can find, and her nails are definitely gonna be leaving marks on the sides of your neck. You let out a small, wry laugh as you silently observe her behaviour, watching her implore without speaking, badger without requesting. It’s an art form really, the form of expression for the horny and desperate and bratty. When her hands grip your face and her nails sink into your cheek, you pinch a little harder and relish the pleasant vibrations that are sent into your mouth as she gasps. Her palms press into your jaw, and they’d probably crush it if you press any harder. Her feet patter against the wood as she starts to direct you to the bed. You kick off your shoes together with your pants.
It’s definitely a sight to take in: Jang Wonyoung in a massive king size bed, a thin bathrobe being the only thing between you and that wonderful body being the bathrobe. Maybe if she wasn’t in this state she’s in, she’d gesture to you with a come hither motion, and invite you to remove the fabric from her body. Instead, she opts for a spine tingling mewl, and that’s your invitation to her body. It’s hardly an insinuation; the fact that she wants to be unwrapped like a present is undeniable, she used the word unwrap herself. The bunny knot holding the two pieces of fabric is symmetrical—has Wonyoung’s fingerprints all over it. If it weren’t for the fact that she’s watching you with a half-open mouth, maybe you’d compliment her on her efforts a little, maybe even call her “princess” a couple more times before you properly ruin her.
(But she’s already ruined, ruined by a mere bit of pressure to the nipple. What else can make her tick now?)
Her body is at your mercy and it, quite literally, jerks as you start to pull at the knot, undoing it centimetre by centimetre, millimetre by millimetre, inch by inch. You want to see how long she can watch for, how long she can witness herself be undressed in a painfully slow fashion. Needy as she is, she’s patient as she watches one end of the rope grow longer.
Longer.
“Do you want me to speed this up, baby?” The smirk on your face would earn you a pout from her if her nerves weren’t in a bundle at the given moment.
“W-Whatever you want,” she answers, and her voice is brimming with breathy arousal. How are you getting away with all this? She’d grab your wrist and pull by now if she wasn’t so damn needy right now.
You give a dry laugh. “Then I’ll keep at this then.”
Longer.
“Fuck. Just pull it all the way already.” She looks you right in the eye as she begs you to hurry, and now you can see the need brimming in those large, round eyes, the ones that stare back at you with soft intensity, if that’s even possible. She’s good at mixing emotions into her stare.
“I thought you said—”
“Just fucking do it!”
Slack.
And the knot comes undone, and together with it, the robe falls off to the sides of her body—it’s beautiful. Never have you taken so much pleasure in undressing her, but you sure-as-hell have taken this much time to admire that wonderful, slender frame. From your standing view over her, you get down to her level to get a better look at her. It’s all part of the game of course: the way you look her in the eye, the way you touch her jaw ever so slightly to turn it towards you. The kiss is sickly sweet, and she’s starting to taste more and more like that cherry lipstick you gave her when you saw her some time ago at another event. Into your mouth, she lets out a sonorous moan. Your fingertips brush along her skin, slither down from her collarbone to her cleavage—down to that flushed pink region between her equally flushed thighs. Almost instantly, the tip of your digits are coated in slick fluids, and you raise an eyebrow at the girl on the bed.
“I literally touched you.” It’s amusement permeating your voice more than anything. In the sheets, she squirms in the slightest, eyes locked on your fingers that rest against that dripping heat and breath caught in her throat. You know that if you were to shift your finger in the slightest, you’d trigger a chain reaction that you have no power over. Her legs would clamp, her abdomen would tense, her eyes would roll. In the midst of it all, she’d maybe scream, or maybe she’d moan; either way goes. As far as you’re concerned, she’s needy as fuck at the moment, and she’s not going to let anything stop her from cumming.
“Yea, well… I can be sensitive.” Her defence is hardly a solid one, more of a perfunctory reply. Her head’s far from able to formulate a quip to throw back at you; that ability went out the window together with classy Wonyoung. “Put them in.”
You go against her request, and your fingers start to skirt the edges of that swollen, pink slit of hers. A crime—you’re going against the princess’ wishes, but realistically speaking: she can hardly be called a princess at the moment, so why comply?
A portion of the bathrobe is still clinging on to her breast. You use your other hand to push it away, and the split second of contact makes her flinch. “Jesus. You’re so fucking turned-on right now,” you can’t help but muse, all while your fingers retrace te outline of her swollen lips. She’s shivering, she isn’t breathing quite right. “Do you want to moan, baby? Do you want to moan like a good little slut for me?”
And she fixes you with a glare. “F-Fuck you… Put them in.”
No “please” this time. Shame. If she were more polite, you would’ve obliged; now you’ll just have some more fun with her.
Your thumb finds the swollen nub, and a little brush is all you need to get her straining like a psycho in a straitjacket. What will I ever do with you Wonyoung?—and she’s getting wetter by the second—You look so pretty when you’re so needy, you know that?—why would you ever, for a second, think that she’d be as refined as the last time? She doesn’t play with herself when she needs to get off; she waits till she sees you again to get off on your cock, your fingers, your mouth. Sexting was off the table, she wants you to be physically there, driving her insane as she lets herself come undone.
“You know,” and you’re almost laughing as you watch her face twist even further, “that I could do this forever right? I could just lie here, tease you for as long as I want… Or maybe that’s what you want?
She’s messy, so fucking messy. Juices are starting to soak the bed—you can feel it as your fingertips round the bottom of her slit. Housekeeping would certainly question the spot, and the two of you wouldn’t be there to reply anyway. Her cheeks are flushed, the veins of her throat are popping. It takes a considerable amount of effort to stay this composed, but you know that she’s breaking more and more. With each round your fingers make, cracks start to form along that perfectly sculpted face. The fine lines on her forehead begin to show as her brows start to furrow. Strained sounds are coming from her throat as the urge to moan is slowly winning the battle against her will. She wants control, but she can’t have it when she’s a wet, hot mess next to you. She’s being bratty for the sake of it. Your fingers are your leverage against her. It’s killing her. It’s delighting you.
And just like fine China thrown against concrete, her will shatters.
“Please! Put them in!”
And your fingers stop just at the top of her pussy. It feels like a long minute, but she isn't about to take another second of this. Her thighs clamp against your arm. Her fingers wrap around your wrist in desperation. She begs again. And again. And again. And again, again, again. The bed starts to creak as you start to move your fingers down her lips, down to the very end of her cunt.
God is she dripping.
“Will you moan for me?” you drawl huskily. A finger, two, three rest themselves against her heat.
“Yes.” There’s barely any of her original self left in there. “Please just—”
The fingers breach her opening. She screams, a high-pitched, keening cry. The noise makes your cock strain in your boxers, and you have to grit your teeth as her inner walls wrap tightly around your intruding digits. A moment of stillness comes, a moment where she’s just breathing raggedly, struggling to process this pleasure that’s racking her body faster than she can comprehend. She’s a ticking time bomb of nerves; the slightest movement in this state could send her into perdition, and she’ll barrel past that point of no return faster than both of you can imagine. God, she’s sensitive. God, she’s a mess.
The chuckle that departs from your mouth is one of perverse pleasure. “Baby,” you whisper, right into her ear as she struggles to catch her breath. She squeezes her eyes shut, and you watch with a grin as her chest rises and falls. The grip on your wrist is a vice, knuckle-white and unrelenting. She’s begging you, with her eyes, to start moving, and you have to tell her, “I can’t start till you let go of me, baby.”
And it’s with reluctance that she slips her hand off your wrist, but that hand won’t stay empty for long. You guide it to her own breast, and with a soft whisper, you tell her to squeeze. She’s servile. She complies without protest. Her eyes slowly open themselves, and you relish the way they’re lust-glazed appearance looks under warm light while her breaths level themselves out. For a moment, there’s calm. For a moment, it’s tender.
Then your fingers start to move. All hell breaks loose.
Everything she did to calm herself quickly becomes futile; it becomes undone as her back arches in a way that catches your breath in your throat. Your fingers graze her walls, pressed into each other as they slowly draw in and out of her. And mind you: you’re going slow, slow enough to make her feel every bit of your fingers brush against her insides. But it’s enough to make her curse, enough to get her mewling like a damn kitten while her hips start to rock, rubbing her clit against the base of your palm. There’s no way to describe how needy she looks; her want is beyond words, and you’ve barely even started. Three fingers is the most you’ve ever put inside her. Clearly, it’s working wonders for her.
And now you yourself have to admit: you’ve wanted her for some time now. Since the last time you saw her, you’ve fantasised about that slim tummy twitching, about holding that snatched waist once more, about those long legs wrapped around your neck while your tongue and fingers turn her into a pliant plaything. For weeks, you’ve wanted nothing more than pulling Jang Wonyoung apart, reduce her into a withering mess wherever you guys are and get her screaming till she’s sore. You can’t even begin to describe what you’ve done with her in your dreams, nor can you ever convey how it feels to desire her as much as you have. So, you put all of it into action, sordid sentiments channelled into your fingers that are making those cute features twist and contort in perverse pleasure. She’s rambunctious, and her juices are quite literally soaking your hand, spilling the strongest sillage of lust all over the bed.
“Why do you always have to be so fucking messy?” You’re really just trying to see how much you can get away with at this point, though the answer seems to be: just about everything. Your fingers start moving faster. You love the way her cheeks are starting to flush even more. “Are you always this wet? Or is it just for me?”
The squelching is lewder than you can ever imagine. The sound of her slick, wet heat being breached by your fingers is enthralling. Add the sounds she’s making into that and you have the ultimate erotica audio that can bless mankind. She’s panting, she’s moaning, she’s whining—she’s doing it all really, and you’re just using your fingers. God knows how she’ll react once you’re inside of her, rock hard meat stretching her out instead of a few fingers fiddling around in warm walls.
But hey, the sounds she’s making are ever so erotic, and she’s definitely making your blood flow to all the right places. She feels out of place; you can’t put your finger on what’s wrong in this whole thing. It’s probably a small detail, something you’d overlook over the sight of her chest heaving as air shoots out and gets sucked back into her mouth, her whole body straining and convulsing against the bed while you get a thumb on her clit and rub at a languid tempo. Probably something miniscule, not worth mentioning because all your attention is focused on the look on her face (you want to mess up the makeup so badly it’s almost frustrating). And no, you’re not trying to make her cum in five seconds; she’s just really riled up—bundle of nerves and trigger happy. Probably hasn’t been treated this way in a while, probably hasn’t had three fingers twisting around, sliding in and out of that tight wet hole slow enough to make her feel every bit of skin against her walls; fast enough to make her combust if you were to speed up, in, like, forever.
“I–I…” She’s quite literally mewling, and the sharpness in her voice is so cutting that it makes an incision in a bag inside you that’s keeping all the perverse thoughts at bay. The thoughts are leaking out now, and it’s almost impossible to stuff them back in. You want her against the glass: tits against the window and ass in your hands while you pump and pump and pump into that slick tight hole; you want nothing more but to pick her up and have her lock her legs around you, tight frame flushed against you while you nail her against one of these walls that surround you; you want to unhinge that jaw and watch that pretty mouth—now parted to let the stream of moans flow—take your cock in and out between those kiss-swollen lips and watch the drool leak out the corners of her mouth. Shit. It’s killing you. Jang Wonyoung, dolled up. She’s killing you.
(No way in hell are thighs meant to be this hot, and lips are not supposed to look this delicious. Yet Jang Wonyoung somehow goes against every fucking norm, fights it naturally and effortlessly and wins like a seasoned warrior. So just for her case: her thighs can be this hot and flushed, and her lips can look this fucking appetising. You kiss her; it’s sloppy, it’s lewd, it’s hot and everything in between. Mark her neck, mark that row of skin above her right collarbone, mark her everywhere. Cusses are flying—god forbid her agency finds out about the things hse says while she’s getting fingered. She's making a mess out of herself. She’s making a mess out of you.
Fingers, just fingers and she’s already looking like this: hair fanned out, frazzled, looking like she just went through a car wash and yet somehow has her make-up intact. Fuck. You want to watch the mascara run, watch it streak while she tears up as she’s choking down cum and she’s struggling to take in air. Pretty little princess, messy and glacially being turned into some improper slut. It’s hard to not smirk while you ruin her with the same fingers you use to type articles about her—fingers that sing praises and can also make her moan enough to make her throat hoarse.)
The rhythm of your hand makes her body roll. Her toes–painted over, fresh manicure—curl into the sheets. Doe-like eyes stare back at you, plump red lips part to gasp your name, throat muscles strain trying to curse and moan at the same time. The fingers are gliding in and out and in and out and she’s begging you to not stop (like hell you ever would) in those choke up little sobs while she’s—
Oh fuck baby I can’t I can’t I can’t — Anything. I’ll do anything. Please just let me cum. I’m so fucking close baby. Please just let me fucking cum. I’ll be a good girl. I-I promise I’ll be a good fucking girl for you just… Fuck!
—blue screening on your fingers: lost in the sauce or whatever. Pliant plaything, docile doll. You’re certain she hasn’t gotten off in at least a month if the way she’s taking it is any sort of yardstick. She’s far beyond drenched, far beyond salvation and way off the deep end of the “needy” pool—drowning herself in her own sea of sighs and gasps and moans and loose phonics that slip out of her mouth. Ostinato of your fingers squelching in her cunt; half time rhythm of the creaky bed; melody of the chorus of Jang Wonyoung’s voice—music to your ears.
And there’s lots to unpack from the moment you locate that soft spot at the top of her pussy. There’s a lot of cussing, a lot of jolting, a fair amount of whining and your name is thrown somewhere in that mix. You find her lips, she kisses back, one of her hands grabs your arm, nails dig in and stay there. Flurry of actions, filthy language—fucking hell, someone stop her.
Bottom line: lots of action. You find it congenial to start from the part where it quite literally ends her world. Once your digits curled up into that sensitive patch of flesh, it was all over for her.
You can pinpoint the exact moment where the orgasm rips through her body, the exact moment where her muscles seized so perfectly that her back arches. The pulse around your fingers is strong, walls tight around your digits and your thumb gently rubbing on her clit while the pleasure rolls through her body, molten iron libido converting the feeling between her thighs to electricity that makes her short circuit. The moan is breathy if anyone’s asking, and the look on her face—twisted, perverse satisfaction: superimposing need and want—has a whole foot over the line of pornographic. Wires are fraying in her head, her vocal cords are strained, she’s ruining the sheets with her juices; you’re complicit in every damn part of this, and guilt is the last thing on your mind.
Then her back falls back flat against the mattress, and the sheets ripple as her body makes a dense thump against the bed, punctuating the sigh she releases into the air. Nerves are unbundling themselves. She’s sweaty and panting. Your fingers are beyond soaked.
“Messy,” you muse, slowly drawing your juice slicked fingers out of her cunt. You bring them to her mouth. She languidly tastes herself, sweat-darkened sheets hugging the muscles of her shoulders and lining her ribs. She looks so tiny in the bed if you looked over the fact that her legs were dangling over the edge of the mattress, and that’s easy to do once you lean in for a kiss.
(It’s not hard to slip your tongue into her mouth, and there’s barely any fight left in her as you roll her nipple between your index finger and thumb. The sweat-matted hair sticking to her forehead adds a nice touch to her face.)
“Such a good girl.” Your tone is warm as you praise her, and a hand moves to cup her cheek in an act of tenderness. Her eyelids flutter shut. She puts the weight of her face into your palm.
“Do I get my reward now?” she whispers, and it’s more of a plea than a question really. You take a moment, not to think, but to drag out the suspense for a little more before you give her an answer. You take guilty pleasure in knowing that you could keep her on tenterhooks for the whole night—the only thing stopping you is the throbbing of your cock in your boxers and the look of sheer need on her face. If you could: you’d drag this out a little longer, maybe tease her a little and call her more names. You still could do that, but you’d much rather fuck her instead.
“Where do you want it?” your thumbs hook into the waistband of your boxers and hook them down. Your cock springs free from its cottons confines, and Wonyoung’s eyes instantly dart to it. She may be a little obsessed with your cock, but only a little when she’s depraved (which is right now). Before you can even react, she has your shaft in her hand, lanky fingers wrapped around it and pumping it with considerate strokes.
“I want a big load in my ass.” she requests, far from innocent and banking more towards improper, which seems to be a pretty big theme of hers tonight. “I’ve been wanting to feel daddy’s hot load leaking out of my ass for a long time…” The strokes delivered to your length grow firmer and firmer by the second. “Please?”
The spikes of pleasure her small hand delivers to your system is really making it hard to say no at the given moment. Of course, she’s well aware of it, and she’s definitely feeling so damn smug right now. And so with a very clouded mind, you nod. She smiles smugly, unaware that you’re about to fuck that smug little smirk rig of her pretty face. Conveniently, she’s already on her back—it’ll make the process so much easier.
“I take it that the lube is in your bag?” You raise. She grins and nods.
Sure enough, you find it in the exact same place as it usually is: side pocket, right next to her lipstick. You toss it towards her and move around her, slip her ankles over her shoulders. She lies still, unmoving and obedient as her left calf goes past her head, then her right. You lean forward, and she gasps as she's almost bent her completely in half. She’s flexible; this position won’t bring any harm to her, but it is congenial to ruin her asshole and leave her sore for the next day or so, which is exactly what she wants, but probably not how she imagined herself getting it. She cracks open the lube, and with precision, squirts a generous amount of it on the tight ring of her ass, making eye contact with you all the while as the clear liquid gathers at the puckered ring of muscle. The tube is discarded to a side when she’s done, and she uses her hands to spread her asscheeks for you, inviting you to take your liberties with her hole.
“Come on Daddy,” she urges you. “Come fuck this ass,” she continues, her hands spreading her ass cheeks even wider as you start to line yourself up with the tight ring. “Wreck this fucking hole Daddy, I can fucking take it.”
To hear her say those words was almost enough to have you cum right there and then. You press the tip of your cock at the open, gaping hole of her ass, swirling it around the entrance, collecting more of the copious amounts of lube around it. She was generous with the amount of lube she dispensed; you're about to be generous with the strokes you're gonna make inside that ass.
(She yelps when you slide inside her ass. God does it feel so fucking divine.)
She is so tight and wet and hot that you think you could’ve cum with your first thrust inside her. Her pussy was tight and hot, but her ass was even tighter and even hotter. Even though your cock was slick with lube, it did close to nothing to keep the sheer tightness of her asshole from clenching around you like it was a really small glove. It wasn’t the first time you’ve been inside her ass, but it sure as hell felt like a novelty every single time you entered that tight ring of muscle. Fuck. The heat, the tightness—sublime. You think you could cum in a matter of seconds if you didn’t have self control.
“Go!’ she hisses, through the pain and discomfort. “Fuck me. Fuck my ass!”
You would have been happy to stay there, buried balls deep in Wonyoung’s ass, but her own words goad you into moving—slowly at first, but with a steadily increasing pace, you begin to fuck Wonyoung’s ass with long, slow strokes. She hisses—part glee, part discomfort—as your shaft starts to pump itself in and out of her ass. You draw yourself out till only the base of you tip remains inside of her, and then you thrust back in, hard, hard enough to make her yelp out in pained pleasure while she grits her teeth and watches your rock hard shaft fill her ass. It's a perverse show for her, and it brings you a sort of dark satisfaction in knowing that past all that discomfort she’s feeling, she loves the way your cock stretches her out and fills her defenceless little hole.
With her ankles over your shoulders, you’re practically spearing yourself vertically into her ass, fucking her deep and making her feel every inch of your throbbing meat inside of that hot, tight hole. Every penetration is punctuated by a deep, guttural groan from Wonyoung, sometimes a curse, or something along the lines of: fuck. So fucking full. You know for a fact that the pained sounds you hear now will turn into airy gaps of pleasure once she gets used to the discomfort, and that she’d probably be a mewling mess by the time you reach the stage where she can take you in and out of her ass with only pleasure in her system and no pain. For now, you’ll settle with the pace you have—slow, long strokes in and out of her ass while she squeezes her eyes to block out all sensations distracting her from enjoying the sensation of her ass being filled with cock. You have to admit that she’s doing a great job at it, and your praise vocalises itself in the rather harsh form of, “what a good little slut.”
(And here’s something interesting you noted: never once in this whole thing did she ask you to stop, nor did you ever think about stopping to let her adjust. If this was anyone else, you would have given them a moment to breathe upon entering, and you certainly would be checking on their wellbeing throughout it all.
Thing is—the two of you know her too well to know that you could only dream of stopping once you got started with her, and it could only end in two ways. 1) You cum in her. 2) You cum on her. Edge her and you’ll never get the end of it, you would know. The last time you pulled a stunt on her like that, she left you tied to a chair with a vibrator taped to your cock till you were begging and a cummy mess. It wasn’t pretty. She could dominate if she wanted to, but she preferred to be a manipulative brat instead.)
It’s not long before she’s desensitised to the pain, and your slow pace is not enough, no, not for Wonyoung. Next thing you know it, she hissing for you to go faster, fuck her harder—I told you to fuck my ass Daddy. Don’t hold back on me now—and deeper. She swears, all three languages that she knew strung together shabbily like they were put together on some shitty production line and thrown out at random—and while you made little sense of the sounds coming out of her filthy mouth you knew what they meant.
Harder. Faster. Rougher.
Then you fuck her ass. Hard and fast.
You almost surprised yourself with the liberties you were taking, drilling in and out of her butt with the same speed and depth that you would use with her mouth and pussy.
“Yes!” she shouts—a loud, full shout. “Yes! Fuck me like this! Pound me, fuck me until you cum in my slutty little ass!”
You grunt in reply, because it was all you could do. The faculties of human language have long since abandoned your grasp and ability, and nothing else exists in your mind except the thought of filling her tight, hothole with warm, white semen. Her eyes lock with yours and you only find that they’re full of need, nothing else (not like she’s capable of displaying any other emotion at the moment). The rest of you, every fibre of your being, was focused on pounding Wonyoung’s tight little hole as hard and fast as you possibly could. Her ankles bounce helplessly behind your head, her knees press into her shoulders and her breath is ragged; sweat drips off your forehead and onto her tits, and your hot breath mixes with hers as you struggle to keep yourself propped up with your arms.
In short: the two of you are sweaty and messy (one more so than the other. Take a pick, not sure if there’s a prize for guessing right), victims of lust and slaves to pleasure. You blame Wonyoung just because you can.
For a few delicious moments, there is absolutely nothing in the world aside from the tight hot sheath of flesh around your cock, the warm flesh of her legs against your shoulders and the strands of sweat-slick hair that fly just about everywhere, all topped with the lewd, filthy, obscene words spilling from Wonyoung’s mouth. For a few delicious moments, she feels nothing but the feeling of her tight hole being stretched and used by the cock that turns her face into a wrought outlet of pleasure while she lets filthy words and exclamations spill from her lips.
Try as you might, you couldn’t have it last forever. Not when you were already so turned on from watching her writhe and twitch under your fingers. Not when the sheer, pure pleasure overwhelming you was more than enough to cause you to cum at any moment.
And when she orgasms for the second time, her ass tightening exponentially around you—there is little you or anyone else could have done to stop the inevitable.
“I’m gonna cum in your ass, Wonyoung,” you hiss through gritted teeth, your lust and pleasure-addled brain on the edge of losing all comprehension.
“Cum with me! Fill me!”
And so you do it, burying yourself hilt deep inside the quivering woman’s asshole before filling it with the last of your cum, giving her every last drop you had left in your body, leaving rope after rope inside her sore, well-used, cum-filled asshole. You almost black out, and you quite literally have to dig your nails into the sheets while Wonyoung’s own orgasm takes over her body, making her twitch and her ass contract—milking every last bit of cum from your throbbing, twitching length till it was nothing but a dry, hard rod inside of her creamy asshole.
There’s silence that is punctuated by both of your ragged breaths. She looks at you, you look at her. And the two of you can’t help but chuckle at the mess you’ve made of each other. You want to remember the way her nose wrinkles as she teases you, “you fucking animal”, and you want, so badly, to burn the image of a sweaty, weary Jang Wonyoung, folded in half beneath you like she was a piece of origami paper, panting and gasping as a fresh load of cum spills out of her ass.
It takes energy, but you bend down and kiss her, letting her sweaty calves slide off your equally sweaty shoulders as you do. She’s satisfied, for now, and she pulls you down next to her on the hotel bed with one hand and gathers the cum leaking out of her ass with the other.
“Look at this,” she whispers, and your eyes train themselves on the pearlescent, sticky, slimy, fluids that run down from her fingertips slowly. “You made such a big mess inside my ass,” she chides before bringing her fingers to her mouth and sucking your cum right off her fingers like it’s a delicacy. “Now I have to clean all of this up. You’re lucky I like the way your cum tastes.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Um… Ew?”
Wonyoung smirks and gently nudges you with her left foot.
“It’s okay,” she tells you, all smug and everything. “I know you love the way I taste too.”
*
In the dark, her small hand creeps around your torso and grasps yours.
“You’re awake, aren’t you?” She’s whispering right into your ear, and it’s a sensation you want to be able to hold on to for the rest of your life. “I know your eyes are open.” The feel of her small fingers rolling the knuckle of your index finger sticks itself in your head like a post-it. “ I can hear and feel you tossing, you know?”
Okay. No dodging.
The sheets stay still as your shoulders turn. You roll over, face her, and you really just want to capture the way the night lights paint her face: doe-like eyes reflecting glimmering pools of moonlight, warm yellow light painting her cute-yet-so-fucking-gorgeous face in a manner that not even Van Goh could copy, lips parted slightly as if in mid speak. She’s right there—you can kiss her if you really want to.
“Are you still mad at me?” She asks, tender with her tone. “I know that I fucked up, okay?” You can tell that she’s not even trying to look pitiful at the moment, but the way her face is sculpted really makes you want to just hold her to your chest and stroke her hair. Sincere are her words—heart heaved into her mouth. “I don’t blame you if you’re still mad. It’s your right. But… Just hear me out? Please?”
If you were mad, you wouldn’t have let her hold your hand the way she was now. If you were mad, you would’ve pretended to be fast asleep; ignore her pleas and just close your eyes and fall asleep. Alas, you can never stay mad at her for too long.
“I was… Never really angry, Wony.” Your tone is a lot softer than you would ever expect, but you know it’s because you probably needed this talk more than she did. “I... I’m sorry if it came across that way.”
And she studies you for a moment, lets the sound of your breathing fill the space as she furls her upper lip into her front teeth, and it’s a perfect moment for you to try and understand what’s happening in her head. She’s a complex creature really; understanding her is like finding a meaning that everyone can agree on when you look at abstract art.
Down below, you can still hear the cars moving through the street. Billboards and screens are still on, and from the window in your bedroom, multi-coloured lights filter into the room past the blinds like moonlight through bamboo leaves. The sheets you lie in are fresh, and they feel nice and smooth against your skin, and they smell like roses. The mattress creaks a little as Wonyoung shifts her weight, and you have to admit that you’re half-drunk on the scent of her shampoo.
“You must have been scared,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. I got really emotional. I… I shouldn’t have walked out. I’m sorry.”
You didn’t know how to reply to that. Not now at least. Maybe it’ll come to you the next morning.
You give her a sweet smile. You hug her to your chest. You want to remember how she feels in your arms.
*
The gentle trickle of water down the arch of her spine is really something—a steady stream flowing down her back, running over the muscles of her shoulders, the curve of her breasts and fraying at her plump ass. You can’t remember the last time you showered with her, but you certainly remember the view being this good.
In the shower of room 302, Jang Wonyoung lets the warm water hit her skin from the rain shower nozzle. Her hair—wet and freshly shampooed (and conditioned)—sticks to her back. Creamy skin glistens, small beads of water affix themselves to random parts of her body, stay there for one or two seconds, then roll down in streaks, almost as if they too were admiring Wonyoung’s well-sculpted figure.
Slim fingers grasp locks of hair. She lifts and looks over her shoulder, the whisper of a grin on her face as she shoots a beckoning wink. “Are you gonna help me soap my back? Or are you just gonna keep staring at my ass?”
“Don’t you have to, like, turn off the water first?” you ask, and you already know what she’s gonna say, but you just want to hear her say it. For memory sake.
“Mmmm.” Her humming as she ‘ponders’ reverberates in the shower, floating over the sound of water from the shower head falling to the floor like rain. “No… Adds to the atmosphere, don’t you think?”
Ah. There we go.
“Then could you at least step back?” you request. This shower is comically huge—long length, breadth about the same length as your arm span. In the space, she looks so tiny, but you know for a fact that she could probably walk to the other end of the shower in a stride. You’re not one to disregard the facts, but you do like to live with a bit of imagination.
Wonyoung chuckles, low and sonorous. She pushes her hair over her shoulder, then—painfully slowly—walks back till she’s out of the stream of water. Water wastage is the last thing on her mind. She stops when she feels your hands on her back, and she looks over her shoulder, expectant. You move your hands and the soap lathers as it’s spread. You start from the centre of her back, rubbing gently in the section where the muscles of her shoulders meet and working your way outwards and upward to her shoulders. Then it’s down from there, your palms moving in small circles and covering every inch of skin.
“You’re good at this,” she mutters, watching with intent as your hands start to trail to her lower back. “Maybe you should’ve been a masseuse instead of a writer.”
“Uh… Patronising much?” You chuckle, watching as her back muscles twitch a little when you apply gentle pressure. “The pay’s about the same,” the soap makes patterns across the area above her ass—spirals of foam that stick to her skin like styrofoam flowers. “The hours are probably the same… But I don’t think I can live on rubbing someone’s back really hard. I Think I’ll just save this service for you, but only for when we meet.”
Humored, Wonyoung offers a giggle, high pitched and cutting above the sound of water striking the floor tiles. She shifts her weight to her right foot, making her body slant a little. Her skin is soft under your palms. Your hands are going lower and lower, slowly spiralling towards the curve of her ass that’s literally just a centimetre away.
“You know…If you take up my offer, you can do this for me everyday.”
Your hands slow to a stop. You raise your head a little to find her searching for your gaze over her shoulder. “Oh?”
“Yea.” Her voice is low, like a mother trying to persuade her child to eat their vegetables. “Every night, we can be like this: you soaping my back, us chatting… Doesn’t it sound wonderful?”
Your lip furls behind your front teeth. “Yea… It really does.”
And in her gaze, you sense her sensing your apprehension. “What’s stopping you from taking it up then?”
(For context, here’s the deal proposed by her company: the two of you go public with the relationship, get clout for the company, and Starship will let you lead your lives together—no qualms, no disturbances. She can visit you whenever, live with you, appear outside together with you like it’s a regular Tuesday night; you get to date the girl you fell in love with all those years ago for real. Only issue: once you get the last stroke of your signature out on the contract, you practically agree to blurring the line between your private and public life. Press will be all over you like ants after you step on their nest, you probably won’t get to enjoy a cup of coffee in peace, everyone will suddenly want to curry favours with you… Was it worth the sacrifice?)
You find it hard to meet her eyes, and so your gaze affixes itself on your hands. It’s not like you don’t love her or anything, but your apprehension makes you feel like shit. It shouldn’t be this hard to say yes, yet the idea of selling your life of privacy to live a life with her makes you screech to a halt at the crossroads. Sometimes (in these moments), you wished that you didn’t always make decisions with your head and your heart.
As the shower continues to run, Wonyoung slowly turns around. One hand finds yours, the other gently takes you by the chin and raises your eyes up to her. She’s tall, and the two of you are staring eye to eye; same height, different trains of thought.
The hand on yours guides you to her breast. Eyes locked with yours, she lays your palm flat against her tit. The skin beneath your fingers is slippery, but it doesn’t remove any of the familiarity from the sensation. Then she squeezes, and the flesh spills out between your fingers like putty. She gasps—airy.
“Don’t you want me?” She whispers, and it’s raunchy more than anything. It isn’t aggressive, but it’s certainly blurring the line between demanding and caring. “Don’t you want to be able to fuck this pretty little pussy every night?”
She’s really far from home base. “Wony…”
“Don’t you love owning me?” She’s squeezing harder. Her knee twitches. Sopa’s spilling out of your fingers. You’re certain that you’re gonna mark her. She doesn’t care. “Don’t you want me all over you? Every night?”
“It’s not that Wonyoung.”
“Then what’s on your mind?” She’s not prodding for an answer, nor is she trying to demand a reason for your silence. She wants to understand you, to internalise what’s going on inside your head. You have no reason to lie.
“Will it all really be okay?” you ask sincerely. “My family, my life… Will… Will it all really be…”
She understands where you’re coming from (if the relieving of pressure around her own breast is any indication), and she’s starting to tune herself to the frequency of your worries. “If you’re wondering if you’re gonna be harassed—you won’t.”
“Yea but—”
“I promise you: I will do everything I can to make sure that you will be safe. You and your family–if so much as a finger is laid on any of you, I will quit.”
“Wonyo—”
“No one will intrude on you. You won’t have to live with the flashing lights. I give you my word: I will make sure that everyone who wants to invade your privacy will leave you alone. You and your family will all be left alone.”
If it’s possible for sincerity to ring clear, Jang Wonyoung has absolutely made it happen. Sweet like honey; she’s left you feeling like you had a spoonful of it. And just for good measure, she steps closer and repeats once more: “I promise.”
Considering that your hand was at the left side of her chest, this was really a “I swear. Hand to my heart” type of deal (whether it’s intended or not is purely up to your discretion).
And as you gaze into those eyes, you want to remember the way she gazes at you softly, gently, tenderly. If it weren’t for your hand on her tit, you would’ve considered this one of the more tender moments you’ve shared with her. Not that it’s not or anything… Just that it’s a little hard to call this a loving moment when you can literally feel her nipple poking into the flesh of your palm at all times of the conversation.
“Are you sure you won’t land yourself in trouble?” you ask her, and she’s quick to scoff.
“Of course. I make too much fucking money fo those higher up fuckers to not listen to me,” she reminds you.
Well… Then that settles about everything then.
“Okay,” you tell her. “Okay… I’ll do it.”
The corners of her lips play up in a smile. She leans in, kisses you—no tongue, closed mouth—and lets the hand keeping yours at her breast fall. Long arms wrap around your waist and she pulls you close, flushing her tight frame against your body. When lips part, she whispers a soft I love you, a sparkle in eyes that lingered for a moment.
But only for a moment.
Then—without you noticing—her hand snakes down and grips your rapidly hardening shaft, and she squeezes. This time, the line between demanding and caring is clear as day, and she’s chosen to play her ball to the court of demanding. With a gleam in her eye, she begins stroking with her closed fist, and she pumps your stiff length at a slow but steady rhythm, adding an occasional twisting motion to her wrist, corkscrewing her fingers around your cock, increasing the pleasurable shocks she was sending through your system with each pump of her hand. It was almost like she wasn’t the sweetest, loving girl in the whole world just two seconds ago.
“Jesus fucking…” You can’t even finish your sentence. Your teeth grit. Your fists clench. It’s hard to breathe. “Maybe… A little bit of a heads up next time?”
She smirks proudly, watching as you tilt your head back and let out a groan. “Where’s the fun in that?” And gently, she pushes against your chest, guides you to the wall. When your back presses against the cool tile, she presses herself against you. She leans in, hot breath on your skin, and then the feeling of her lips against your jaw almost makes you yelp. She kisses a path down your jaw, paves a way towards your neck to get cheeky: sucking, nibbling, licking the skin of your neck while she keeps the movement of her hands slow and considerate. The shower continues to run.
Do you know—she breaks contact with your skin for just a second—how fucking horny—her breath’s tickling your ear, sending shivers down your spine—you make me?—and she squeezes a little harder around your shaft, not enough for it to hurt, but enough to feel you throb in your hand and make you gulp a little. She starts going faster—jerking, fucking pumping your length in her closed fist, and it’s almost impossible to keep your eyes open; your eyelids flutter shut. Your head rests against the wall, a sigh slipping past your lips. It’s filthy really—down from the way she catches you off guard to the way she makes your skin sore after she’s done feasting. Almost every interaction with her in a private space is as X-rated as this; it’s hard not to get into a situation like this around her. You know: a situation where the two of you are naked and getting really touchy and actively trying to get each other as many times as humanly possible.
“Fuck yes baby…” you rasp, your nails starting to eat into your palms as she the sound of her hand sliding up and down your dick starts to cut above the steady stream of water. With each rise of her hand, the pad of her thumb plays with the head of your member, and when it sinks down, she twists her wrist in a screwing motion. Rinse and repeat; up and down and up and down and fuck. “You’re so fucking good at this.”
She hums in reply, and she has your earlobe between her teeth the next second, nicking you mischievously, sending small pricks of pain shooting through your system as she adjusts her grip on your cock without ever breaking her motion. Next thing you know, your tongue is inside your ear, and she’s leaning in so close that when you open your eyes, you’re practically looking over her shoulder, looking down the curve of her back that glistens with moisture and soap bubbles.
“I love this cock so fucking much,” she whispers, a bit of a hiss in her words as she takes the head of your cock between her forefinger and thumb and pinches lightly. “It stretches me out when I need it.” her fingers start to trail down your slipper shaft, letting the smoothness of her palm rub against your whole length, “fills me when I want it.” She’s milking the precum out of you, making you all leaky and squirmy as she starts pumping faster. “And it’s so fucking big that I can choke on it. You know how much I love being choked.”
She chooses that last bit to make eye contact with you, and she’s practically served you what she wants next on a silver platter. The next move is clear cut and simple; no words need be spoken. You were going to fuck her—and you mean properly fuck her—with a hand wrapped around that small throat. How you were gonna do it was still a mystery, but you figured that it’d slowly come to you, but it will definitely be related to the mirror and the sink outside and the mirror in front of it. At once, you reach over to the handle of the shower, and you turn it down to the handheld showerhead mode. Wonyoung bites her bottom lip, perverse glee painted all over her face as you use it to wash the soap off her back. She’s watching, waiting, probably drenched down there and aching to be stuffed full of cock.
She’s almost shaking with excitement as you finish washing all the soap off her body. You’d hardly consider her clean, but it won’t hurt to hop back into the shower again once you're done with her. The shower door swings open and you’re cupping her pussy, dripping wet while stumbling out with her, lips locked on hers and her hand on your cock as you push her against the sink of her hotel room. From the moment her mouth opens and let the moans pour out while you rub her clit to the moment her hand leaves your cock to cradle your face, she’s practically radiating need from the pores of her skin. You can’t help but playfully remark, “you’re such a fucking loser”, while your thumb thumps against her clit and sends pleasure tearing through her system. Weak in the knees, she holds on to you for support.
And the moans (those fucking hair-raising moans), they tumble out of those plump lips like marbles down a ramp, and they mix with the sound of your lips smacking against her skin as you start to leave a trail of kisses down her neck, doing to her what she did to you in the shower; you give her a taste of her own medicine, and the way she’s titling her head back to let you mark her freely makes it almost seem as if it’s the intended outcome of her actions. It’s like she knew that you would get back at her, and it wouldn’t come as a surprise if you ever find out that she gets off on knowing that she can manipulate you in her own bratty ways—get you wrapped around her finger and have you doing all the things she wants you to do without having to tell you. Not that you have something to gripe about it, but you’re just so amused (and that’s just one word to describe how you feel) by how she goes about her ways.
“Come on,” she manages to whisper, all while you’re busy sucking on the skin just below her collarbone till it’s sore. She has a lot of pride in her voice for someone who’s quite literally quivering. “You know you want to fuck me. Give me a good creampie again.”
You lift your head for a moment, and you take in the look of almost childlike excitement on her face as your hand finds its way to her throat. It’s perverse excitement, that lewd exhilaration of knowing that she was about to get what she wanted, and albeit a little messed up, it was pretty hot in its own way. When your fingers gently wrap themselves around her throat, you can feel every muscle in her body tense in anticipation, as if she didn’t get enough from the bedroom earlier.
“Up on the counter baby. Let me see how messy you are down there,” you whisper.
She knows what to do, and she has herself propped up on the counter and engaged in open mouth kissing. She doesn’t need you to tell her to spread her legs, and she definitely doesn’t need you to tell her how cute she sounds when your fingers slip inside of her, feeling around the mess you’ve made of her and coating your digits in her fluids. Your index and middle finger are slick with her juices when you retract them from inside her, and you can’t help but chuckle.
“Messy as ever,” you muse, making a show of sucking her juices clean off your fingers. She’s sweet and borderline tangy—a taste that you’re accustomed to, and you will never get tired of it. She’s biting down on her lower lip, the skin wrinkling under the pressure of her front teeth as she makes a sound that’s close to a purr.
“You made the mess.” She has her eyes locked on yours as you raise an eyebrow, prompting her to follow up after her first statement. Not that you didn’t know what was coming, but more that you wanted to gently coax it out of her, because it was so fucking hot to hear what she had to say next. “You clean it up.”
And you’re more than happy to oblige. She watches you with intent eyes as you sink down to your knees, waits with bated breath as you lower your face till the glistening, pink folds of her pussy are right in front of your face, flushed thighs around your ears. Her excitement is almost palpable, and you can hear the sharp inhale she takes when your palm finds its place on the inside of her left thigh, pushing gently to give you better access to her heat (you’re really just trying to drag out the tension if you were being completely honest with yourself). You lick your lips, lean forward till your mouth is hovering above her slit.
“You better moan for me this time,” you tell her, and you’re making sure to make your breath hit her slick as you speak. “You have such a wonderful voice. Put it to use.”
Praise mixed with the slight hint of authority—it’s enough to make her nod furiously and implore you with doe eyes to just get on with it. With a smirk, your lips find the swollen nub at the top of her entrance. You suck on it. Hard. And almost at once, her thighs clamp around your ears and her hand is on your head, like it’s some sort of natural instinct for her when you’re eating her out. Keeping to her word, she cries out—keening, whiny and ever so fucking bratty, and it’s the the holy grail of every wet dream. Nothing in the world could bring you more satisfaction than that shrill, airy cry she lets out when the pleasure ripples through her body, and you’re just getting started.
Your mouth opens and your tongue flattens itself against her folds, (She tastes so good. You want all of it, all of her) and you drag it up her folds, deliberately, painfully slow as you start to lick up that wet cunt. Her back arches; you can feel her struggling to keep a hold of your head; she throws her head back and lets out a gasp; her thighs clamp down a little harder around your head. The pleasure in her system builds up with the slow movement of your tongue, only rising and rising as you lick from the base of her slit to the mid section to the top. When the tip of your tongue flicks her clit, it's almost like an explosion, enough for her other hand to join its pair atop your head, enough to make her cry out in a perverse plea, “Daddy, please!”
(For the record: she’s wanted this from the moment you guys stepped into the shower. She’s willingly turned herself into some pliant little plaything, and she’s probably getting off so hard to it. Frankly, if she wanted to order you around, you’d be up to it, but this is what she prefers.)
And nothing else needs to be said really. You put your whole mouth on her—relishing the shiver that runs up from her thighs up to her body—and get right into making a wreck of her. You lick, you devour, you ravish her: working your mouth on her pussy, lapping up the juices that spill forth from flushed lips with broad, sharp strokes that make her body grow taut and her legs quiver. You tongue her clit, lick up sweet fluids, make her messy and needy and hot in all the right areas till she’s drilling her nails into the back of your scalp and pushing your face against her sweet slick. In half whispers, she tells you just how good you make her feel—oh Daddy I’m so fucking wet!—and you feel a dark part of yourself be fed by these lecherous words—Oh god oh fuck I’m gonna fucking cum if you keep… Fuck!—that leave her half-parted mouth and linger in the air, reminding you of just how wanton she is and how you’re the only person in the world she ever wants to fuck and be satisfied by. You’re hers; she’s yours—a relationship with Jang Wonyoung that any guy would kill for.
“Daddy—” she gaps, her voice a whole octave higher than it should be as her nails turn into claws at the back of your head. “Fuck I’m cumming. Daddy I’m cumming!”
The pulsing of her pusy against your tongue grows. You continue licking, lapping. One stroke, two strokes—three. She moans, blue screens. You hazard a look up.
Nothing else matters. Only: the sight of that back arching off the marble counter, her thighs around your head trembling and quaking as her hips roll and her mouth parts in a silent scream. You’re certain that there’s blood being drawn from the back of your head, but you're more certain that she’s got enough heat in her core to melt molten iron but a lack of breath that makes her gasp for air as you lick and lick and lick your way into her. You can feel her orgasm getting closer by the second, it’s in her breathing, and in the way her hips are practically thrusting her into your mouth.
And just like the bathrobe from earlier, she comes undone—falls apart and ceases to keep control of her body. She tenses, her thighs go rigid around your ears. Her breath is caught in her throat, her eyes are closed. You stop your work, admire the way she glows as her body twitches and her face twists. Pleasure rips its way through her muscles, her nerves—splits her very being in half as the orgasm rolls through her system. She’s beautiful, and she’s a messy work of art that you’ve created.
You rise to your feet as she winds down, and her hands leave your head to rest on the counter while her body struggles to process the aftermath of that orgasm. It’s not the first time she’s cum for the night, and it certainly won’t be the last. Her eyes open, and she instantly locs them on you as you brush back some of the hair that sticks to her sweat slicked face. You take her hand and give a gentle tug, and she slips off the counter obediently. You grip her jaw—tenderly but rough enough for her to like it—and tell her to turn around. Servile, she obeys, and in the reflection of the mirror, she watches as your hand snakes its way to her throat and grips it. You’re not squeezing, not yet.
“I’m gonna fuck this pretty little pussy now,” you drawl, gripping your shaft in your hand and slapping it against her slit. The contact makes her shudder, but she remains silent as you place a kiss on her cheek. “Your face is gonna be so pretty when I choke you and fill you.”
“Yes Daddy.” Her reply is a whisper, a borderline drawl that’s airy and raunchy and makes your hairs stand on their ends. She’s looking at you through the mirror, plump lips slightly parted and eyes glassy. “Own me. I’m yours, forever.”
And you’re all too happy to hear that from her.
You slip into her, hilt yourself inside her in one swift motion.
(Tight. Hot. Wet. So tight.)
She lets out a sigh, low and sonorous, harmonising with your own groan as you press her against the edge of the counter and make the fingers around her throat squeeze. The sound that leaves her throat is the sound of her sigh being truncated, and it delights that dark part of you. Being inside Wonyoung was otherworldly, as it always was, but here, in the bathroom of her hotel, on the night where you’ve agreed to seal a deal with her, she felt downright heavenly. She squeezes her walls around you, her body thankful for the sensation of being filled by cock, if the intense tightness and slick wetness were any indication; she looks over her shoulder and bites her bottom lip. And when she has your gaze, she mouths something.
Fill me.
The silence is deafening, but it’s all you need to hear.
When you withdraw your glistening shaft for the first time you relish in the feel of her walls gripping you, not wanting to release you—but just as quickly they welcome you back inside as you penetrate her again. Soon you are pumping in and out of her at a slow, steady pace, her soft gasps turning quickly into long, drawn out moans as she is fucked against the marble. Her hands steady her body against the counter, her back arched in a way that lets you get a wonderful top-down view of her breasts as they roll together with her body. It’s a concerted effort, but she makes it seem effortless.
“Be honest.” With the hand around her throat, her voice sounds a little hoarse. It’s hot. “Do you think about this, Daddy? About fucking me like a good little slut?”
“Wonyoung,” you reply, speaking through your gritted teeth. “You have no,” and you punctuate the sentence there with a deeper thrust into her tight slick, a thrust strong enough for her to let out a strained gasp. “fucking idea…”
(In the mirror, you watch as she curls her lips into her mouth and tilts her head back into your shoulder, like she’s submitting her whole being to you and letting you take liberties with her body. You take the invitation, and your free hand finds itself on one of her soft mounds and gives it a squeeze—rough but tender enough to elicit a low moan from her throat that makes your hand around it vibrate pleasantly.
At the given moment, she’s doing all she can to make herself a pretty little fuckdoll for you, doing her best to encourage you to treat her rough, treat her like you own her. She wants nothing more but to feel the rockhard meat penetrating her tight little cunt stretch her out and fill her the way she wants, all while she’s begging and pleading obsequiously while being obsessed with your cock. It’s a lot to take in for her for sure, but she gets off on it, and you get off on it too—the fact that she’s being all needy and pleading just so she can implicitly tell you to fuck her till she’s raw and can’t fucking walk the next morning. The fact that she’s actually in control while being such a bottom. Bratty manipulation.)
“Then fuck me Daddy,” she tells you, almost pleading. “Use this pretty little pussy. I want it. I fucking need it.”
With her invitation to do more with her body, you’re more than ready to do what you’ve intended to do from the very start. You increase your tempo, and before long you are truly fucking her, drilling in and out of the tight hot warmth of her body with quick, deep strokes. With each stroke you don’t pull out more than halfway—you concentrate instead on pumping hard and fast, getting as deep as you could inside her given your standing position. She takes it well, like she was made for this. In her world, this was what fucking looked like, and it was the only definition that she was going to live with and she’d take it to the grave. She indulges in the roughness, the almost animal-like way your cock fills her again and again and again, all while she encourages you with cries and moans and sighs that are music to your ears.
And a notion hits you: she’s going to make you fuck her till she’s the only thing you can possibly think about. She’s going to draw out every single primal urge within you, make you want her like she’s some form of drug and you’re the abuser, and then she’s going to get exactly what she wants—your cum in her pussy. You can’t let her win like that, you can’t. You can tell that to yourself now, but you’re not sure if you can remember it later, not when she practically reeks of the strongest possible sillage of sex.
Her pussy throbs around you, pulse strong and just a beat behind your thrusts as you thrust yourself in and out of her slick walls, filling her up and drawing yourself out before filling her up yet again. Pure filth spills from her mouth, expletives, sordid sighs and cries and any sound or word that comes to mind. She's a quivering and squirming mess, and from the mirror you enjoy the way she’s almost writhing in against the counter. Ample breasts bounce with each thrust that shocks her body, and it’s almost hypnotic if it weren’t for the fact that that pretty face was stealing the show. The face that was marvelled, the face that was the source of jealousy, the face that was on the face of so many magazines and posters and adored by millions, if not billions—scrunched up, improper and so fucking lewd that it looked like it belonged in a porno instead of an idols face, and you take pleasure in the fact that your cock is ruining the face of a princess, turning her dissolute and so fucking needy that she was as good as a fan begging her for an autograph. This side of her was reserved for you, and only you—her duality is reserved for your eyes only.
Her body is slick with sweat, rubbing against your own sweaty torso while her body rolls together with your thrusts. “Fuck—” you’re saying, but it comes out as more of a growl than anything given how hard yur teeth are clenching. Your fingers squeeze tighter around her throat. The slightly reduced airflow at her throat causes her pussy to clench even tighter around you—and the added tightness brings succulent pleasure to your mind that makes you think you’re going insane. You probably are at this rate. “This pussy. It’s so fucking good baby.”
Her reply is a strained gasp, but you get the gist of what she wants to say. She wants, so badly, to tell you how good your cock is making her feel, how well it fucks her, how well it fills her and stretches her and how it’s her favourite thing in the whole world. The squelch of your cock filling her pussy is loud, but not loud enough to drown out the smacking of skin against skin as you press more of your weight against her, pushing her a little more into the corner of the counter and a little more over the line of pathetic. She moans in response to your actions, and it’s telling you: fuck. Harder. It’s better when it hurts.
And you can feel her juices leaking down the back of her thighs, wetting your crotch and making the smack of skin against skin louder than ever, almost as if it was an announcement: I’m being fucked like a good little slut and I love it. She doesn’t know what she’s doing to you,and for clarity, it’s something along the lines of turning you absolutely feral with her moans and the divine tightness of her pussy that makes you want to cum on the spot. Okay,maybe she is cognizant of how crazy she makes you when you fuck her, but you barely have the capacity to think, let alone rationalise wether thai girl in your arms that your chocking and fucking feel smug in knowing that she’s driving you insane.
Oh and she loves it when you play with her tits. The way you fondle them is almost aggressive. Scratch that—it’s really fucking aggressive. You’re slapping her tits, leaving red marks all over the milky white skin and pinching and twisting the stiff nubs atop her breasts, all while she mewls and cries out in that strained voice that makes you throb even harder inside of her wet walls and makes you grit your teeth like your a dog waiting to chew on a bone.
“D-Daddy,” she pushes out, past the fingers that close her airways and past her groans and moans and sighs. “Harder.” And your thrusts are starting to cut her off, but she has more to say. When it comes out, each word that she spits out is punctuated by a thrust of cock into her pussy, and it’s the hottest thing you’ll ever hear.
Fuck.
You thrust deep inside her.
Me.
Your cock drives itself deep into her, slicking itself with her juices.
Harder.
And if words could linger in the air, hers certainly would.
You fuck her hard, and fast, and deep—hammering her into the counter, nailing her defenseless pussy with a pace that you would have thought was rough and callous were it not for the fact you knew this was exactly how she wanted it. All she can do is hang on, grasp onto the counter with a knuckle-white grip with her hands as you take your liberties with her body, fucking her as hard as you can, as deeply as she can take it. The cups on the counter shake, the toothbrush inside one of them shaking under the force. It’s loud, but you hear none of it. You hear only the sharp sighs of pleasure that leave Wonyoung’s lips, and the wet slap slap slap of your crotch as it hammers her cunt again and again and again, your cock drilling her, pounding her, making her yours if you weren’t already doing that.
It takes a little long, but the haze of lust parts for a moment for you to realise that you're getting closer and closer to getting what she wants out of you. While the thought of burying yourself inside of that quivering, pulsing pussy to let it milk every last drop of cum from you is ever so enticing, that small part of you that wants to own her pushes you to fight against the urges. Not that there’s any harm in giving her what she wants, but it’s just that you don’t want to reward her bratty, manipulative tactics. She knew for a fact that she could tie you up and ride you over and over till you were dry—she’d done it before. But instead, she’s chosen to fulfil her needs in a less direct manner, maybe for fun or maybe just because she felt like it.
“Yes,” Wonyoung hisses, spit flying into the mirror and her palms slipping on the counter. “Just like this Daddy.” And she’s making sure to make eye contact with you through the mirror, letting her eyes do most of the talking. If anyone’s curious, the look she gives you is saying, I’m your good little slut. Fuck me. Use me. Fill me. Please, and it's nothing short of hot and tethering far over the line of lewd. At this point, neither of you are in a state where you're capable of coherent thought, nor are you capable of thinking about anything else except each other’s bodies and the wet, lewd squelching of cock filling Wonyoung’s pussy. It goes on and on and on, a cycle of your hips hammering the back of her legs and your cock spearing deep into her cunt. She takes it so well, drinking you in hungrily, coiling around your shaft like a snake as if it was begging for you to stay in her forever. The sight is enough to make your balls tingle and your toes curl, and your hand around Wonyoung's throat tightens to the point where the only thing that can leave her lips is a groan as her airflow is reduced.
She’s tighter, hotter, wetter. Her pussy fits you like a glove, moulding around your cock as it pumps in and out of her at a pace that you had no idea you were capable of. The hand around her neck is nothing but an outlet of pleasure for you, and she’s loving it. “Such a good girl,” you mutter, watching from the mirror as her mouth slacks and opens while she’s being pumped full of cock. “You were made to take Daddy’s cock, weren’t you?”
Her equivalent of a yes is a sharp, strained groan—an amalgamation of phonics and whatever sounds the lack of air flowing to her throat permits her to make. She’s so fucking messy down there, and your cock is sliding in and out of her with ease, aided by her slick juices that coat your shaft and let it disappear and reappear from between her legs with ease. The motion is almost graceful if it weren’t for the fact that it was a sordid one, and you take a moment to admire the way your shaft glistens in the light of the bathroom while you fuck her the way she wants it: rough, hard and tethering over the edge of callous. If it weren’t for the hand around her throat, she’d be making herself hoarse with all the moaning she’d be doing.
And the hand around her throat is bringing her so much pleasure, if the way her pussy squeezes around you when you choke her is any indication. She wasn’t lying when she said she liked being choked. While she didn’t like gagging on your cock, she sure as hell loved it when your fingers clasped around the muscles and made her gasp. She liked the sensation of being deprived of air, be it when she was riding or when she has her kness buried into her shoulders and was being fucked into the bed like a slut. You were always afraid of hurting her, but when she shots you that look, the one that says, come on, you can do better, you know that she’s getting exactly what she wants, just the way she likes it. It was just a matter of how hard you squeeze around her throat before she either cums or passes out, though the latter has rarely happened before the former.
“Daddy!” she chokes, and you know exactly what she’s about to say next. So you release her throat from her grasp, bunch a lock of her hair in your closed fist and you pull back. Her eyes squeeze themselves shut. Her back arches deliciously, her voice now free to finish shat she’s aching to announce. “I’m fucking…”
You never expect her to finish her sentence. Wonyoung’s eyes open, and a gasp leaves her open lips. Her walls, already vice-like, tighten so hard around you that you think you might come there and then. You feel how close she is.
“Fucking cum for me, Wonyoung. Cum around my cock like a good little slut.”
Wonyoung does as she is told—and the quivering, trembling orgasm she experiences is almost frightening in the way it overwhelms her body, turning her into a wet, hot mess. Her pussy tightens and pulsates, her fingers claw against the marble counter, and her entire lower body shakes violently, as though she had lost control of her nerves and muscles. For a few beautiful seconds she is utterly overwhelmed by the sensations, until finally she slumps forward in your grasp, breathing heavily.
It's good. It's so good, but it's not quite enough to get you to your finish. Not yet.
(And if anyone’s asking: it’s not that the sex isn’t good. It’s mind blowing, amazing, and whatever word that can be used to describe “fucking incredible”. She’s hot, so tight and fucking soaked down there. You’re horny, throbbing and on the verge of filling her full of your seed. But you’ve said it before and you’ll say it again—you’re not rewarding bratty manipulation. As tempting as it would have been to simply pound her from behind until you gave her needy pussy the load of semen she so desperately wanted, you knew that there was something even better that you could do.)
You pull out of Wonyoung, your shaft glistening under the hotel light. Her eyes are wide with shock as you withdraw yourself from her body, pulling her away from the counter—but only enough to have her lean back against you and not stand up completely. Her mouth opens to say something, but she's interrupted when you turn her face to you and kiss her. She moans into your mouth, and you swallow it, your tongue slipping into her mouth and massaging her own, lapping at the roof of her mouth as her tongue swirled around your own. You bite her lower lip, and it's not rough, but enough to get her attention. When her eyes flutter open, you whisper, "I'm not finished."
She nods, and you relish the disappointment in her eyes. You turn her around, push down gently on her shoulders. She goes with the motion, and you're not sure if you can ever get over the image of Wonyoung on her knees with her pretty little face staring at you with anticipation. You think about fucking her face, letting your cock thrust into the back of her throat over and over and over till you finally bury yourself inside and cum down her throat, but that would just be a repeat telecast of every other night with her. Spice things up; give her the liberty of creativity with your cock.
And of course, Wonyoung perfectly understands what has to be done. You step up to her. She parts her lips and takes your cock right into her mouth. Grasping the base of your cock and pumping it with one hand while she gently cups and squeezes your balls with the other, Wonyoung quickly launches into a hard and fast blowjob, taking the top half of your cock in and out of her wet mouth with a rapid pace while her fingers work your shaft in a corkscrew motion, just like she did in the shower. The suction of her mouth is almost lethal, and the audacity she has to look up at you while she takes your cock in and out of her mouth is so exhilarating that it makes you weak in the knees. Your hand finds a clump of her sweaty hair, and you close your fingers around it, holding them in your fist. No, you weren’t going to push her head down onto your cock; you had to give her the space to work on her craft.
And of course, she exceeds every expectation out there. Your eyes shut involuntarily, your brain unable to handle any sensations beyond the wet, hot cavern of Wonyoung’s mouth sealed tightly around your shaft with tight, soft lips. With the first entry into her mouth her wet tongue is pressed tightly against the underside of your shaft, lathering it with her spit. With each subsequent entry her tongue becomes more adventurous, beginning with quick swipes left and right on your shaft with each entry and ending each exit with a swirl of the tip around the head of your cock. While she tastes herself on your cock, letting her juices mix with saliva, her hands work in perfect concert with her mouth, one joining her lips at your shaft and pumping up and down, a twisting motion to her wrist while her free hand works gently with your dangling balls, fondling them with considerate fingers. She plays with them softly yet hastily, her fingertips working their magic between the sacs with expert attention.
You are content to stand there with your eyes shut, simply enjoying the feel of your cock pumping in and out of her mouth at a fervent pace, but a small part of you knew that you had to see it happening in order to truly believe it was all real—and so with a not insignificant amount of self-control, you force eyes open to watch the spectacle unfolding between your legs. Black locks bob up and down frantically above your cock, doe-like eyes glazed with pure lust staring right up at you as her cheeks hollow and her jaw unhinges even more to accommodate your length.
It all becomes too much, and it hits you all at once—having her pump your shaft in the shower, eating her out then fucking her—and you quickly find yourself nearing that inevitable peak.
“Fuck, Wony—” is all you manage to say before your orgasm overtakes your world.
Wonyoung releases your cock from her mouth a split second before you erupt, shooting long, thick strands of hot semen all over her pretty little face. Her face glazes over in pleasure and you are all too happy to watch as strand after strand of cum lands on her cheeks, her pretty little nose, and finally her open mouth and jaw. You watch, through half-lidded eyes drunk with pleasure, as the thick streams of cum flow down her face, dripping onto her upper chest and those perfect breasts of hers. Her face is flushed and her mouth open, as though she herself was on the verge of orgasm (she probably was, and she was going to make it your problem as soon as she got your cum off her face).
You want to remember the way she wipes your cum off her face with the back of her hand, how she licks it all up like a cat licking its own paw before moving to clean the stray strands of cum off the tip and sides of your cock. You want to remember how she rises so gracefully even though she was a sweaty mess, and how she gently takes your hand and guides you back into the shower for another clean up.
And back under warm water, you want to remember how she kisses you, and how she whispers, “next time, I want that big load in my pussy.”
*
“What?”
And it’s hard to meet Wonyoung’s eyes as you set down the papers from the doctor. You can feel her confusion, her frustration, her rage from across the dining table in your apartment. It isn’t pretty. Nothing about this situation is.
“It’s a neurological disease,” you tell her, all while you’re looking at the MRI that’s in the middle of the table. You’re really just regurgitating what the doctor told you—it’s the only thing you have the capacity to do right now. “They ran their tests. They told me what I suspected. I’m losing my ability to read and write, to understand language. In 2 years—give or take —I won’t be able to express my thoughts. I’ll be spouting gibberish. What people say, what I see — on pages, street signs, everywhere — they’ll all be unintelligible to me.” She’s silent, and it unnerves you in every way possible. You haven’t even gotten to the worst part of it all. “My mental competence will deteriorate. I’ll have to live off a tube cause I’ll forget how to eat and drink. Dementia will follow shortly.”
Now would be a great time for her to say something, anything to break this silence. But she is silent, unmoving and reticent in her seat from across you. You have no choice but to gulp and deliver, in your personal opinion, the worst part of it all, “By the time I forget how to breathe I… I would’ve lost all my memories by then.”
She chooses the moment after the last word leaves your mouth to pick up the MRI scan and look at it.
“So… Everything we’ve built up till now will just… Disappear?” she whispers. She sounds hurt, scared and everything in between. You bite your lower lip.
“Yes.” There’s no point sugarcoating it, it’s inevitable anyway. Face it now, sulk later… You think that’s the best way to deal with this piece of news. You hope that the matter-of-fact tone of voice that you’ve chosen doesn't betray how frightened you are by the prospect of losing everything you know. “We can’t stop it. It’s in my genes.”
She sets down the scan, and when you look up, you see the tears flowing down her cheeks and it makes you want to cry as well.
She stands up, shoulders her handbag and walks towards the front door.
“Where are you—” you begin.
“I’m going somewhere else to think,” she interjects.
When she slams the door behind her, you feel like you’ve let her down in so many ways. There’s a burning in your chest that you can’t describe. The first hot tear rolls down your cheek, and you let the rest that well in your eyes flow down without resistance.
You don’t want to remember what it feels like to be helpless—the emptiness, the rage, the sadness, the confusion is all so overwhelming. But you figure that you’ll have to feel it again at some point down the road.
Might as well figure out how to cope with it now, when Wonyoung isn't there and you're all alone with your thoughts.
*
When you awaken later that night in your bed in the apartment, it takes you a few moments to determine whether the soft, slim body climbing atop you is real or part of some wonderful dream—but the familiar warmth of your girlfriend, and the soft, pleasant smell of her hair, convinces you that this was all real.
Wonyoung places soft kisses on your neck and jawline, before moving to your mouth and kissing your lips softly. You are still only half awake, but your senses and instincts take over, and you find your mouth welcoming her kiss and returning it with one of your own, your hands moving to either side of her hips and finding, to your surprise, that there was only bare skin there and no clothing.
“Wony…” you begin, as she deepens her kiss, her lips pressing more firmly against yours.
“Shhh,” she answers, “please. I need this. I need you, right now. Please.”
She’s suddenly reappeared after walking out on you, and you have yet to process the slew of emotions that have come your way. Part of you wants to stop her, to talk things out with her so that you could: a) figure out if she was still mad at you and; b) verify that she wasn’t drunk. But the part of you that formed the majority of your conscience knew that she needed comfort as much as you did, and that she needed something to assuage her and make her feel like everything would turn out alright. So you find yourself relaxing underneath her, letting her scent fill your nostrils as her tongue dances with yours.
She straddles you, and your hands begin to run up her naked body, up from her slim thighs to her chest where the ample mounds sat proudly, her nipples erect and stiff. She isn’t wearing any underwear, and your fingers brushing against the slick of her pussy is enough to verify that for you. She’s naked atop of you, kissing you like you just confessed your love to her or like you’re about to go on some mission and never return. It’s not lustful, but it’s full off passion and aims to soothe not stir.
She breaks the kiss. Her eyes flutter open. In the dark that is pierced by the street lights of the city, you want to remember the way her eyes glimmer and shimmer as she breathes heavily. There’s no alcohol on her breath, and from the way she’s cradling your face, you can infer that she’s not mad at you in the slightest.
“You okay?” she whispers, and her tone is soft and warm, like that time she spoke in the shower of her hotel about signing that contract with her company so that the two of you could officially start dating. It’s been some time after that, but you still hang on to the way her words made their way to your heart. “I didn’t mean to startle you if I did.”
You respond by nodding, and it’s enough to convey: I’m alright. You brush away the hair that falls in front of her eyes, and you really want to remember how silky smooth her hair feels in your hands.
“What are you doing?” you ask her, making sure to keep your tone as warm as her own. She blinks, goes silent for a moment, then answers, “I’m making amends.”
She holds your gaze, you hold hers. The staring contest ends when you gently pull her in for another kiss, and you want to remember how she softly moans into your mouth while her thumb, smooth and tender, caresses your cheek.
When the kiss breaks again, her hands snake their way down to your sweats. You assist her in removing your shorts—a very clumsy affair: tangled hands and arms and lots of chuckling. But your cock does finally spring out from your boxers, the ones that have been discarded in the corner of the bed, together with her clothes. When it’s all done, you have the pleasure of witnessing the sight of her slim frame straddling you once more, long legs surrounding you on either side of your thighs while she peppers kisses on your chest.
“I’m sorry I left you to deal with… Everything. Alone.” she begins, “I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that… I’m sorry. I hope you aren’t angry”
And from your lying position, you lift a hand to cup her cheek. “We can talk later.”
She gets the message, but bends down and kisses you nonetheless. You’d probably have trouble falling asleep later in the night, and she’d wake up and you’d have this same conversation again. You’d rather have it later than now, not when the wound is still fresh.
Wonyoung lets a soft smile play on her lips. You are slightly aware of her raising her hips, her right hand finding its way between your bodies to grasp your wet, erect shaft, and line it up with her entrance. She breaks the kiss for the third time that night, searches your eyes for approval to continue with this. Was it make up sex? You didn;t know if it was for sure, but it sure as hell felt like it. What you do no for certain is: you’d like to experience this now, and you want to etch this in your memory for as long as you can before it fades with the rest of your mind.
You give her the slightest of nods, and you feel the head of your cock press against her wet, tight opening. Slowly, carefully, Wonyoung lowers herself down onto your shaft, your cockhead parting her tight lips to impale her pussy. She gasps loudly as she impales herself fully, and she opens her eyes slightly to match your gaze. You brush stray locks of hair away to reveal her face fully, and you bring her mouth back to yours to kiss her deeply. As your tongues duel, she begins to raise her hips, drawing your shaft out of her body before lowering it once more, and soon she has found a soft, slow rhythm as she rides you, grinding her warm, tight body against yours.
She raises herself upright and lets her hands rest on top of your chest. You’d like to save that face she makes in a supercut of her other memorable faces: eyes closed, lips slightly parted and the wisp of a smile on her lips as she rocks her hips. From where you lie, you watch as Wonyoung takes you in and out of her body with soft grinding motions, riding you slowly, enjoying every entry and exit of your shaft as it fills her over and over in slow, tender strokes that make her shiver. You watch as your shaft appears for a split second or so before driving back into her, each disappearance accompanied by a soft spike of pleasure. As always, she’s letting moans and sighs and gasps tumble freely from half-parted lips as she takes you in and out of her slowly, rocking her hips with innate grace and elegance. All you do is let your hands rest on her thighs, moaning softly to encourage her as she rides you lovingly, tenderly, a far cry from what you’re used to when it comes down to sex with Jang Wonyoung.
Through the night, your cock glides in and out of that perfect pussy, elicits moans and gasp and sighs and cute little cusses when you hilt yourself deep inside of her and tug a little at her hair. Her hands were always active, sometimes caressing your chest, sometimes on your jaw, sometimes behind your head as she snaked an arm behind your head to keep you locked where you were just so she could sneak in a kiss. You came in her mouth, her ass, her pussy. She came on your fingers, your cock, your mouth. She cussed a lot, almost passed out once or twice. You cussed a lot two, and you caught her when she almost rolled off the bed (the two of you laughed for a minute about that situation before you ended up spooning on the floor, her leg in the air and your cock pumping in and out of her while she had your back to you and your face in her right hand).
Bottom line: it was wonderful, wonderful make up sex that ended with both of you sweaty and panting and wanting more from each other but you guys just don’t have that energy to keep going. It was a novelty for both of you, and you wanted to remember just how special she could make you feel, even in the impurest of acts.
*
The flash of the polaroid camera is almost blinding, but you power through and keep your eyes open. Like a child that’s seeing snow for the first time, Jang Wonyoung watches excitedly as the polaroid emerges from the slot in the camera, and she’s all too eager to grab it and lay it face down on the coffee table in your apartment.
“I thought you’re supposed to shake it?” you ask, watch as she fiddles with the camera for a little bit before she snaps a selfie with her newest purchase. She gives you a look that basically translates to, “uh, are you dumb?” and waits for the next polaroid to emerge from the slot before she launches into her lecture.
“Shaking the polaroid to make it develop faster is a myth,” the way she sounds so official and everything is so cute. You can’t help but smile a little as she sets the other polaroid down. “It shifts the pigments and blurs the photo, but an idiot like you would need a genius like me to tell that to you.”
The remark is clearly meant to be biting, but it’s nothing short of hilarious to you. “When did you become a camera nerd?”
“Ever since I got this,” she lifts the polaroid camera up and hits you with that you’re on camera smile. “Maybe I should do an ad for this brand. Increase their sales, you know?”
She leaves you to think on that and retrieves the first polaroid she took: a picture of you and her on the couch of your apartment. Not the grandest first photo, but hey, a memory is a memory, and you really are just focusing on cherishing those at the moment. As she leaves the couch to clip the polaroid onto the photo rack (a bunch of metal wires on a metal frame with wooden clips to hold photos) she just set up, you grab your journal next to you and flip it to the page you wrote on a few hours before. With your pen (that you now carry around just about everywhere with your journal), you scribble down a new part of today that you want to remember. It was her idea to journal down everything you wanted to remember.
The entry goes right under the one about Wonyoung’s new camera.
She looks so happy with that new camera. Bet she’s going to go back to the dorm and show it off to all of her members because she’s a fucking child. I hope that…
And you trail off in your writing, What you wanted to say was just on the tip of your tongue just a second ago. Why can’t you remember it? It was literally just in your head a minute ago…
No.
You shut the journal. It makes a soft yet substantial thud as the leather cover slaps against pages. You place your pen in your pocket, set the journal back down on the couch and stand up to walk towards your girlfriend, who is currently adjusting the angle that the wooden clip holds the polaroid at. She senses you walking up to her, steps aside and makes a space for you to watch her struggle. You would offer help, but you know that it removes half the fun for her when you do something for her.
She fiddles around a little more, makes a couple of grunting sounds under her breath, curses a little, and next thing you know, she exclaims, “tada!” while pointing at the first occupant of the photo rack. You roll your eyes, throw an arm over her shoulder and look at the slightly blurry photo within the white frame.
“With the camera,” she tells you, her tone soft and warm like… Like… Fuck. “I hope that we can help our memories live on. Sounds pretty deep huh?”
You can’t help but chuckle in agreement. You take a moment to stare at the two faces that occupy the space in the polaroid, and you hope to God that they will never, ever look foreign to you. It’s a futile prayer, you know, but a glass-half-full mentality is the best chance you have at not spiralling out of control.
Wonyoung lays her head on your shoulder, silent and all sentimental as she closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath. She lets out a shuddering sigh, and you know that she’s trying not to cry, cause in this situation she’s the one that will end up hurt at the end of it all. You’ll forget the pain of forgetting; she’ll remember the pain of being forgotten. It sucks, but it’s just the way it is. You hug her, hold her close and stroke her hair. You don’t want to forget what she means to you, what you mean to her.
How many more polaroids left till it all ceases to matter?
____________________
Hello! Hope you guys enjoyed this fic. I'm a bit rusty so this one might be a bit funny, but hopefully the style of storytelling I chose didn't fuck you up too bad. Non-linear storytelling will be the death of me. Also: I kinda didn't edit this one too much. My bad hehe.
This was really more of a PSA to cherish the ones you hold close to you, because you never know when they will just disappear. Love the people close to you, cherish them forever.
~Lots of love
Nichuuu
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my lovely jade would you consider writing more about new to the team reader and fresh out of prison spencer?😇🩷i'd really love anything, they make me kick my feet and blush so bad!🥰 love you <3
love you gorgeous <3
“Here.” Spencer puts a granola bar on top of your notebook.
It slides down the slopes of the page into the centre and disrupts your train of thought. Your stomach stirs, remembered, and your fingertips shake ever so slightly as they curl around his gift. “Thank you,” you say, the grit of the packaging like a pinprick. “Sorry, I was somewhere else.”
“If you don't eat, you'll get foggy, and then you'll be unhappy,” he says, sitting in the chair between yours and Emily's.
“And you need a clear mind to work,” Emily says.
She's Unit Chief, as formidable as her predecessors, but it's her demeanour that intimidates you. She's confident in how much she cares about people and she won't let you forget what this is all for, nor the strength of it. You find yourself nodding like an obedient puppy whenever she talks —whenever any of them talk.
Spencer watches your expression. You aren't sure why. “And less coffee.”
“That's a little hypocritical,” Emily says, her voice stretching with humour, “but I'll allow it.”
“That's why her hands are shaking.” He nods to the granola bar, and when you struggle to open it, he reaches for it with a gentle touch. “Do you think you might have a low tolerance for caffeine?”
The shaking worsens at the question, though it's innocent enough. You don't want to explain why you're shaking because you know it paints a poor picture of professionalism, but you can't lie to them. It almost feels like the idea of shoplifting, the fear of being caught. You desperately want them to like you, trust you, and respect you, and lying this early on won't help that.
“I need to do better,” you say.
“You're doing amazing,” Spencer says, as Emily asks, “Why do you say that?”
“I'm having trouble, uh, sleeping. And remembering to eat enough. That's why I'm shaking so badly. It'll go away soon, I promise.”
“Are you drinking any water?” Emily stands. “You have to stay on top of this stuff.”
She stalks off looking pissed. You wince, and Spencer puts the now opened granola bar in your hand, curling your fingers around it nicely. “Here, take your time.”
You are shamefully desperate for reassurance. “Is she angry?”
“Yeah, she's mad.” Spencer doesn't smile. His voice doesn't betray much else. “She wasn't always good at taking care of herself, either, but now she doesn't have a choice. She has to be the best, and she has to make you the best you can be. Which is why she's angry.”
“That I'm not currently at my best,” you surmise.
“That she didn't notice.” He takes a pen from his pocket and a post it note from the table. “But Emily doesn't need to worry, because I'm here, and I would've looked after you anyways, even if she wasn't Unit Chief.”
You take a bite of granola bar to pretend he hasn't winded you. I would've looked after you anyways. He writes a quick list as you chew, unaware of his affect on you or choosing to ignore it.
He hands you the note.
2 meals
4 glasses of water
4 cups of coffee
702-555-0103
“I already have your phone number,” you say, hot in the face.
“And you could stand to use it more often.” He takes your shoulder into his hand and leans in, giving you a nice squeeze, his thumb rubbing a line into your blouse. “Yeah? I know this is all harder than it looks. I promise I get it.” His voice creeps down into a more playful teasing, “Why are you so reluctant to call me? You're breaking my heart.”
You laugh breathlessly. He pats your shoulder. “Finish that, okay? I'll go find us something more substantial for lunch.”
Obviously you want him to take care of you, whatever that means, but it's still startling. He's smart, and so, so pretty, and he has this obsession with teasing you… if he even knows he's doing it.
“Oh, Y/N?” he asks from the door. You look up, eyes wide, a deer in his headlights. “You really are doing amazing.”
“Thank you.”
Emily comes in a few seconds after he leaves, the biggest bottle of water you've ever seen in her hand, her eyebrows raised sceptically. “What's he smiling about?”
You clear your throat. “I’m not sure.”
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
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Jealousy: a Bucky Barnes one-shot
pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader (no use of y/n)
word count: 3k
You are working with Bucky, Sam, and Zemo to get intel on the Power Broker when the night takes an unexpected turn...
content warnings: minors DNI (18+) - smut (semi-public, oral - male receiving, fingering), PWP, jealousy, groping, drinking, language, name calling (slut - not by Bucky), some violence.
“You can come out now,” Helmut Zemo called to you through the bathroom door of his private jet you were currently holed up in after getting ready for an evening of espionage.
“I feel weird…” you muttered, looking at yourself in the mirror.
Sam, Bucky, Zemo, and you were getting ready for an intel gathering mission and this time it was your turn to gather intel. Why that meant you had to have your tits nearly falling out of the dress Zemo picked out, you didn’t know, but you were so close to getting the break you needed you would do nearly anything to get answers.
“Everyone feels weird at these things. The dresses are uncomfortable but when you’re somewhere looking at art you need to look like art yourself,” he told you.
“Fine,” you sighed, giving yourself one more once over as the plane started to descend.
On anyone else you would have said the dress was gorgeous. It flowed like a river when you walked, it was sparkly enough to be seen from space, and the combination of the low cut neckline and the slit in the leg was enough to make the devil himself blush. It just wasn’t you. Ever since you became an agent for SHIELD, the CIA, and now freelancing with this band of misfits, you’d grown accustomed to wearing pants and tactical gear and in your downtime it was leggings and chunky sweaters. Nothing even the slightest bit revealing.
So when you exited the bathroom you couldn’t help the blush that creeped up your neck as Sam gave a low whistle from where he stood in his steel blue pressed tux, saying, “Man you’re looking good!”
“Can it,” you told him, rolling your eyes and shoving your hands into the pockets of the dress. That part at least Zemo took your advice on when designing the dress which you guessed you were grateful for…
“I told you you’d look beautiful,” Zemo said. “A thank you would be nice.”
“Thank you,” you told him with a sarcastic smile, turning away and rolling your eyes.
As you turned away, Bucky emerged into the main area of the plane, adjusting his tie and giving you a once over. “I think you’ve made him speechless,” Sam said teasingly, nudging Bucky in the ribs after he didn’t say anything for a few seconds.
Sam had always teased the two of you because he knew you liked Bucky but you’d just never made a move. He’s got bigger things to worry about than me, you’d always told yourself. Besides, he’s on those dating apps and all, so that’s proof he isn’t interested, not in you...
“No time for puppy eyes, we’re here,” Zemo said as the plane touched down. “Does everyone remember the plan?”
“Yes,” you replied. “I go in first and blend in for a while. Admire the art, catch the attention of the target, chat him up for a bit. Once I get what we need on the Power Broker I’ll excuse myself to the restroom and we make a break for it.”
“Correct,” he told you with a nod.
“The three of us will go in separately and pretend to look at the art while making sure things don’t go sideways,” Sam added.
“Right again. What is the code word for if you become compromised?”
“Champagne,” you told him instantly. Now this was the stuff you were built for.
“Are we ready?” Zemo asked as the group approached the door to the jet.
“As I’ll ever be,” you said, making your way to the door and carefully picking your way down the steps to head into the party.
“Don’t strut or anything,” Sam told you teasingly as he watched you feign confidence on your way in.
“Shut up, I don’t strut,” you snapped.
“You do tend to strut when you’re in heels,” Zemo said.
“Okay let’s not focus on my walk you guys!” you said before approaching the door to the art show.
“Here, let me get that for you ma’am,” a suited man said, opening the door for you with a smile and a wink.
You gave him a smug raise of your eyebrows in return as you walked through the door, narrowly missing the hand that was outstretched, no doubt trying to cop a feel. “I feel gross…” you mumbled as you walked further in, grabbing a glass of champagne from a tray nearby.
While looking around, something caught your eye so you made my way to an art piece that you had only ever seen in textbooks. It was beautiful… A man slid up next to you to admire the piece as well, and casually asked, “You like it? It’s one of a kind.”
“It’s wonderful, I didn’t know this piece was even on the market!” you said, wonder in your eyes over the art in front of you.
“Maybe it could be yours if you give me something in exchange,” the man said suggestively, making you throw up a little in your mouth.
You turned to see who the man was and saw that it was the target. Like some miracle he had walked up to you, but you weren’t about to take it for granted. So as much as it pained you to do it, you reached over to his arm and brushed your fingers over it and asked in your most innocently seductive voice, “And what may that be?”
“All right we’re all in, if this guy goes too far, say something and we’ll come get you,” Sam told you through the earpiece as he casually made his way over to the nearby bar.
While he said this, you and the man made your way over to the VIP area where you two sat down on a couch and were served drinks of your choice. He glanced down at your breasts quickly before asking, “So what’s your name darlin? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”
You giggled and put on the charm as you walked two fingers up his chest, telling him, “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”
“That I would,” he replied, placing a hand on the bare portion of your thigh. He snaked his other arm around your back and rested his hand on your ass, pulling you close. “A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t have to attend these events alone.”
“Play your cards right and I could be your plus one from now on…” you told him, the corners of your lips turning up in a small smile.
The next half hour felt like forever as you pushed for more drinks for your pleasant company and innocently sweet talked your way into the answers you needed. When you felt like you had enough intel to make our next move, you sweetly told him, “I’m so sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me, I need to go to the girls’ room. These drinks went right through me!”
“I’ll be here when you get back sweetheart,” he told you with a smile as you got up, grabbing your ass once more when you stood.
As you turned the corner to make it seem convincing that you were actually looking for the restroom, you suddenly felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you toward them. You just about took them out before realizing that it was just Bucky. “What the hell, Buck?” you asked, taken aback.
He put his finger to his ear, turning off his coms before whispering sharply, “Why’d you let him touch you like that?”
“W-what?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing.
“We’re getting out of here, you two need to get out before we’re compromised,” Zemo told you over the coms.
“Be there in a minute,” you told him before turning your own off, following Bucky’s actions. Getting back to his question, you said, “I did what I had to do to get answers. Why do you care?”
“Because no one should be touching you like that,” he replied, looking deep into your eyes.
You laughed a bit before asking sarcastically, “Oh yeah because it should be you right?”
What happened next shocked you to the core. Because Bucky, the man who had stolen your heart, said, “Yes,” before crashing his lips down onto yours, pinning you against the wall hard. A million thoughts ran through your mind and your head spun as you tried to process what was happening all while sinking into his soft lips.
“Bucky…” you whispered between kisses as he held you close. Never breaking the makeout session, he felt around for any door handle he could find before pulling you into whatever room it revealed.
Once the pair of you were in the room, he hiked you up onto the counter before resting his forehead on yours, saying, “It killed me seeing that bastard touching you like that. I wanted it to be me.”
With your senses finally kicked in after the shock of the kiss, you shook your head and whispered, “You don’t mean that. You’re just saying that because of how I look right now. If we were back at the hotel and I was in my leggings and sweater you’d just look the other way…”
“No,” he said as he looked deep into your eyes, pulling away and taking your hand in his. “This is something that’s been on my mind for a while, but I never had the courage to say it until now. I thought I could push away my feelings in order to not compromise our friendship and partnership but… I wanted to kill that guy for touching you like that.”
You opened your mouth to say something in response, but nothing came out. Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into another kiss. When you got back to it, your hands wandered each other's bodies desperately, Bucky’s metal hand slipping under your dress to cup your breast and mess with your sensitive nipple. You gasped at the cool touch and he took that as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss.
As you ran one hand through his hair, he slowly slid his right hand down to your thighs, not moving any further than there without permission. Not even caring how dirty it made you feel to do so, at the touch you spread your legs for him and pulled away for a moment to whisper, “Please touch me…”
“As you wish,” he whispered, taking no time at all to begin toying with your swollen clit. He nipped at your earlobe before mumbling, “God you’re so wet.”
“That’s because you drive me crazy,” you admitted. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this…”
“Oh yeah?” he asked while gently pushing two fingers in and feeling around for that special spot inside.
“Oh God yes,” you whimpered, your head rolling back as he found what he was looking for. No one had touched you like this in so long and it just felt so good and so…right with it being him.
He added his thumb to the mix, rubbing your clit while his fingers worked their magic and you had to bite your knuckle to keep from screaming, it felt so good. Seeing your reaction, Bucky smirked and started kissing your neck, telling you between kisses, “I guess we shoulda talked about it because I’ve been dreaming of this for a while. First chance I get after tonight, I’m fuckin’ you into oblivion, doll.”
Those words were all it took to bring you impossibly closer to the edge. The idea of Bucky doing unspeakable things to you made everything that much better and you could feel yourself shaking as you approached your high. “Bucky…” you whispered shakily.
Bucky stood there just admiring you as he picked up the pace of his fingers inside your sensitive cunt. He gave you a sideways smile before whispering, “God, just look at you. You’re so beautiful. Those little gasps and whimpers all for me? That’s enough to make me wanna go all night,” he said, making you even weaker in the knees. Your head rolled back and your breathing started to become uneven as he worked his magic inside, the pace somehow getting more vigorous the closer he brought you to release. The smirk was audible in his voice as he added, “Come on doll, I can tell you’re close, just cum for me.”
And just like that with a few more strokes of his fingers you were experiencing the most intense orgasm you had in years. “Oh my God, fuck…” you moaned before he captured your lips on his own once more while you rode it out on his fingers which continued to pump in and out lazily as you clenched around them.
“I think I can get used to that sound,” he told you with a smile once he pulled back from your kiss.
You couldn’t help the school-girl-like giggle that escaped your lips before you got serious again, kissing him after jumping off the countertop. You spun the two of you around and pinned him to the counter this time, your fingers trailing their way down to his belt and messing with the buckle waiting for permission. “You don’t gotta do anything for me right now, the others are waiting. I’m sure they’re getting worried,” he told you.
“I think for once you need to put yourself before others,” you whispered, ghosting your fingers over the prominent tent in his slacks.
He chuckled before giving in, saying, “Make it quick.”
“Oh trust me I can do that,” you told him with a wink before undoing his belt buckle and letting his slacks fall to his ankles. You toyed with the waistband of his underwear for a moment before pulling them down as you sank onto your knees in front of him.
As you kissed the swollen tip of his penis he sucked in air through his teeth, telling you, “Don’t be a tease.” You giggled and ran one finger on the underside of his cock, the vein pulsing beneath your touch, and that had him like putty in your hands and asking, “Please?”
With that final almost whimper of a please from the man standing above you, you took his impressive length in your mouth. You got as far back as you could before beginning to bob your head, his right hand gently resting in your hair to guide you while his left had a death grip on the counter behind him.
When you hollowed out your cheeks, Bucky’s knees almost buckled and he tightened his grip on your hair. At this you pulled back and teased his head with your tongue before going back in. The way his breath hitched in his throat and the way he started moving his hips showed he was losing the restraint he had on himself meaning that he was close, so you used your hand to work what you couldn’t with your mouth and that’s exactly when he lost it.
He had never felt anything like the feeling he was experiencing right now as he gently thrust his hips forward, relishing in the feeling of pure pleasure he was getting from your mouth. “Fuckin’ hell!” he groaned as he came to his high, his warm release filling your mouth while his grip on the counter tightened, his metal hand breaking the marble in the process.
Coming back up to eye level with him after he finished, you smirked before telling him, “Quiet down Sergeant, you don’t want anyone to catch us, do you?”
“Oh next time you’ll be regretting that, doll,” he growled playfully before pulling his clothes back up while you fixed your makeup with what you brought in your pockets. As you fixed your hair too, he looked at you in the mirror and said, “Really though, that was nice. Something I’ve been wanting for a while.”
“Me too,” you replied, kissing him tenderly once you looked presentable again.
After you and Bucky got yourselves calmed down from all the excitement you headed back out to the party so you could go back to the jet. As Bucky adjusted his belt while the pair of you exited the room, you noticed the man from earlier was standing down the hall talking with someone. He seemed to notice Bucky adjusting his belt and that goofy smile on his face so he rolled his eyes and shoved past you, muttering, “Slut.”
“What did you just call her?” Bucky asked, sudden white hot rage filling his whole body.
“I called her what she is, a slut!” the man spat loudly.
And that was all it took for Bucky to wind back and punch the man in the face, taking care to use his metal arm to do so. Once the man was on the ground, Bucky took the man’s collar in his hand, yanking him up and growling, “Don’t you ever talk about a woman like that again. Got it?”
“Got it!” the man whimpered as Bucky threw him back down on the ground.
With that settled, you two left the party and got back to the jet, walking hand in hand. Sam took one look at you and told Zemo, “You owe me twenty bucks.”
“We don’t know that!” Zemo retorted defensively.
“Oh don’t we now?” Sam asked with a laugh. He turned his attention to the pair of you and asked, “Did you or did you not go MIA so you could have sex?”
“I- What- We-” you tried to say, stumbling over your words as your face heated up.
Bucky rolled his eyes and chuckled before saying, “Whichever one bet that we had sex lost.”
“I told you!” Zemo shouted victoriously.
“But did you at least do something?” Sam asked, fishing in his wallet for a twenty.
“That’s for us to know and you to not find out,” Bucky replied, kissing your knuckles before leading you to a seat on the plane where you could rest your feet for the flight. As you sat down and relaxed into Bucky’s strong embrace, you had a feeling that tonight was the first of many pleasurable nights to come.
a/n: so this is my first one shot on tumblr! I wrote this one night when I just couldn't get Bucky out of my head, I hope y'all enjoy!
and if you don't follow me or know my account, feel free to check out my Steve Rogers long fic here!
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Do not tempt me with your tags...
"Looking for Atlantis" (Shinji Moon) and OPLA Sanji? 'intense eyebrow wiggling*
looking for atlantis
opla!sanji; 1,542 words; fluff, aimless fluff, whipped!sanji, no 'y/n', teeth-rotting fluff, plotless fluff
summary: sanji dreamt of the all blue and wakes up to tell you about it
a/n: there's so very little plot in this, just a bunch of simp!sanji. ur welcome.
Sanji has always been a hopeless romantic. He knows it, Luffy knows it, hell, even the stupid swordsman knows it. But he’s never thought of his propensity for love as a weakness, and he’d always know that he’d find the one for him. And then — he’d met you.
And he thinks he’ll never get tired of this, of the feeling of waking up next to you, of opening his eyes to find you still there, curled up next to him, the splay of your hair across his pillows like spilled ink — something gorgeous and poetic. And like this, he thinks he just might be invincible — trailing soft fingers along the dip of your waist, just to trace your outlines, to memorize the shape and size and weight of you in his bed.
“Morning…” you turn with a sleepy grin, and Sanji thinks himself a gone, gone man.
“Morning, my love,” he whispers, leaning in to ghost his lips against your shoulder. How he wishes he could sink into the butter and milk of your skin, to bask in the warmth of your steady, cadenced breaths, to drown himself in the low, lulling waves of your voice when you laugh, rubbing at your eyes and sighing as you bury your face in his chest.
“Aren’t you gonna go make breakfast?”
Sanji hums as he drops another affectionate kiss into your hair.
“No. Not today.”
“Hm? Why not?”
“They’ve got leftovers.”
You peer up at him over the crumpled covers.
“Lazy,” you accuse, though there’s nothing hard or harsh about the tenor of your voice. He rolls his eyes, nodding as he slumps back down and pulls you into him.
“Sure, whatever you wanna call it.”
The silence stretches gossamer thin, glistening in the early morning light.
“Did you have nice dreams?” you ask.
Sanji grins, nosing into your cheek, ghosting his lips along the soft bend of your cheek till he finds your mouth. He contents himself with kissing you, with swallowing passed your tiny little sigh of contentment, with licking into the warm heat of the roof of your mouth, with pulling back to find you flushed and breathless beneath him.
“The best,” he says, laughing as he lays down beside you again.
“What about?”
“I dreamt… that I found the All Blue.”
“Oh, you did? What was it like?”
Sanji takes a breath, grinning as he pillows his head on an arm, the other wrapped around your shoulders as you shift to lay your cheek on his chest.
“It was… everything that I’ve ever dreamed of — all those fish, all those rare, unknown seagrasses and seaweeds…” Sanji lets out a long, indulgent sigh, tracing abstract symbols into your skin.
“So, what did you make?”
“Make?”
“Yeah — like… food.”
Sanji chuckles, glancing down towards you.
“I… can’t really remember… I think in the dream, I was so excited about showing you… that I didn’t really get to make anything before I woke up.”
You laugh, shaking your head.
“Okay, so tell me now.”
“What… about what I’d make with all the stuff I found in the All Blue of my dreams?”
“Yeah,” you say, looking up at him.
And when he glances down to meet your eyes, Sanji feels strange tugging just behind his navel, like a fish caught on an unsuspecting hook, or perhaps his body pulling him towards where he was always meant to go.
“Alright then…” he grins, sinking deeper into the welcoming warmth of the bedsheets, basking in the soft hsk-hsk of linen on linen. There’s a thick strip of lemon-meringue sunlight creeping into the room from the far window and the world tastes like candy floss on his tongue —
“I’d make all your favorites, except better — that miso cod you like so much? I’d make it with the All Blue Island Cod and miso made of soybeans fermented in blue seasalt.”
“Mm…” you hum, leaning in to trail your lips along the line of his jaw, making his mind go fuzzy, “that sounds good.”
“Doesn’t it?” Sanji asks, groaning, letting his head tip back. And for a while, you lose yourselves in the silk and shiver of each other, of half-taken breaths and half-drowned kisses. Of half-formed thoughts and half-tasted forevers. Because this is as much a drought as it is a drowning — and Sanji’s never been so parched or so bloated all at once. He is overflowing and yet, he’s never been so, so thirsty.
Sanji finds himself pinned beneath you, your thighs on either side of his hips, your hair tickling the bare skin of his shoulders, and he thinks to himself that he’s always known heaven was a place on earth. That he’d always been so in love with the thought of chasing the impossible, of chasing the shadow of a dream that the first time you kissed him, he almost didn’t believe it.
But then, you’d pulled back, and he remembers tasting the ocean in the dip of your cupid’s bow.
And he knew then, like he knows now, that there are no such thing as impossible places. No such thing as unachievable dreams.
“What else?” you ask, your palms pressing flat to his chest as he grins and slumps back, his head digging into the pillows.
“I — I dunno… hard to think when you’re being so distracting,” he admits.
Outside, a tangerine sun rises high above the horizon line and the sounds of the rest of the crew getting up thunk and echo around the ship. You look up, away from him, and Sanji feels the loss so intimately, he fears he might shatter.
“Hey…” he reaches up to tug your chin back down towards him, to catch your lips in his, to sink his teeth into the plush of your bottom lip just to swallow around the shape of your sigh, the texture of your gasp.
“Meanie,” you murmur, pulling away, though he’s still close enough to taste the grin on your lips.
“Oh… c’mon sweetheart… you know you like it, hm?”
You stare down at him with the entire sky dawning behind your eyes, and Sanji knows himself a lost man. You groan and let your face fall into the crook between his neck and his shoulders, burrowing in.
“Stay in bed with me… just a little bit longer.”
Sanji sighs, curling around you, like a cupped palm of shore around a glittering sea.
“I can never say no to you, can I?”
You laugh, shaking your head, “You’d better not.”
Sanji hums, wrapping you in his arms and placing another sweet kiss into your hairline.
“You never told me what you dreamt of last night,” he says.
And there’s a moment of quiet, a lacuna of silence that pools around you both. Then, you look up, your lashes fluttering, tugging the strings of his heart into something like a symphony.
“I dreamt about a sunrise over the All Blue… and about breakfast, and lunch, and dinner and dessert — I dreamt about all the things you might make once we find it. But mostly… I dreamt about you. That… you were smiling, and happy and so, so excited.”
Sanji feels his throat catch, his lungs seize.
There’s a moth-wing flutter of something in his chest that he’d once upon a time thought was his heart but now… he wonders if it isn’t the flicker of fish-tails or the flash of moonbeam scales.
“I love you,” Sanji hears himself say — and it’s not the first time he’s said it but it is the first time he’s said it like this — like he can’t help but to say it, like it’s the only thing left to say in the world.
You giggle, leaning up to kiss him.
“I love you too,” you say.
Sanji shakes his head, leans down to take both your cheeks in his palms, pressing your foreheads together.
“No, I don’t think you understand — I am so in love with you… I think it might actually drive me mad.”
Your smile never fades, never even falters, “I know… but says who that we weren’t just mad to begin with? And… I think I’d have to be at least a little crazy to fall in love with you.”
Sanji nods, smiling as he leans down for one more kiss, a lingering brush of lips on lips, a light, unhurried, indulgent thing.
“I like a bit of crazy,” he says, shifting to lie back down next to you, even as Luffy’s laughter rings in from outside and the ship rocks with the weight of the anchor being raised.
“So, no cooking today?” you ask, grinning as you snuggle in, letting your eyes fall shut once more.
Sanji shakes his head, “Nope. Leftovers.”
You laugh, “I love leftovers.”
Sanji hums, his own eyes drawing closed, “Yeah… so do I.”
And within minutes, you’re both asleep again, bodies bent around each other, breathing in sync, minds drifting off towards dreams, and dreams, and dreams.
#opla#one piece x you#one piece x reader#one piece live action#opla sanji#one piece netflix#one piece fluff#sanji opla#sanji x reader#sanji x you#vinsmoke sanji#vinsmoke sanji x reader#vinsmoke sanji x you#opla x reader#opla x you#opla fluff#x reader#floofy floof floof#LMFAO its been a while since ive written something with THIS little plot#it felt nice actually -- to be absolved of the 'need' to like write a story where something /happens/#as opposed to just like ~vibes~#anyway i hope yall enjoy u__u
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how do you think bsd men would react if they praised reader in bed but they started sobbing bc of daddy issues
Characters: Dazai, Chuuya, Fyodor, Nikolai
Warnings: smut, gn reader (no agab mentioned), dacryphilia
Notes: I'm actually not sure why daddy issues would trigger in this instance unless you're fucking Fukuzawa bc none of the bsd men have dad energy, so I'll assume it's like you get overwhelmed with the way they treat you? Getting praised and you're not used to it so you cry? Do elaborate if I fucked up.
It goes without saying that Dazai likes it when you cry. You look so pretty and vulnerable, eyes glittering and chest heaving as he folds you in two, cock nestled nice and deep. If he's not actively trying to make you cry though he'll pause and ask what's wrong, brushing your tears away. Once he's made sure that he's not doing anything wrong though? Business as usual. He'll keep praising you if that's what you want and you can cry your little heart out.
Chuuya is another one that stops immediately. But with him it's more likely that you'd be crying even before your clothes came off, because he's just so sweet and thorough with foreplay. Bringing you into his lap, cupping your face while he kisses you, needy and messy but not rushing it. He'll have his fill of your mouth before moving on to the rest of you, calling you gorgeous, tracing your body over your clothes and telling you how he needs you so much, how he loves you. No wonder you'd start crying a little. He'd freeze, shushing you, telling you he'll stop if you like, apologizing for being too intense or going too fast, reassuring you that you can back out whenever you like. When you explain it's good tears he'd be so relieved. From then on it's his goal to make you feel so good you cry, every single time.
Straight up, you're not going to cry because he's praising you. Any approval you get from him is condescending, always accompanied by some degrading pet name like "thing", "puppet", "pet", "animal", maybe "whore". There's no doubt in your mind that you're a toy to him, something to abuse out of idle curiosity. He wants to know just how far he can push you before you break. If you cry? Well, that just means it's working. Maybe it'll earn you a slap if your sobbing distracts him, or he'll just laugh and mock you. What, can't even take this? Crying already? Poor, sweet little mouse. You're lucky you're so pretty when you cry.
Nikolai is another one that likes tears (and no you cannot sense a theme with me) so if you're crying it's just going to be a compliment for him. Whenever he praises you he's not as eloquent as some of the others, but he means it. Calling you so fucking pretty, so warm and tight and good, taking him even when it hurts and letting him stuff you nice and full. He loves the blissed out look on your face when you cum, or when you stop struggling and relax and he can sink in deep. Tears just mean you're a little too full, and that's just how he likes you! If you explain why it is, he won't even mind. You like his voice? Like it when he calls you his? Good, he likes it too.
#nikolai.bsd#chuuya.bsd#dazai.bsd#fyodor.bsd#chuuya x reader#dazai x reader#asks.answered#chuuya smut#dazai smut#chuuya x y/n#dazai x y/n#fyodor smut#fyodor x reader#nikolai smut#nikolai x reader#nikolai x y/n
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Hi! Can I request more of chubby!wife with Feitan? Some comfort please and spicey stuff. Thanks you!
Sweethearts
Feitan x Chubby!Reader
warnings: creampie, pussy eating
A/N: this is old so I’m banishing it from my drafts!! it’s a lil rushed, sorry!
taglist: @desiray562 @lovelyxkazuha @ashdownunderscorebeloved
if you would like to be added to the NSFW taglist, comment a ❤️!! make sure you have your AGE in your bio, and that you’re able to be tagged/mentioned!
It had been a tough day for his poor little wife, he could tell by her aura.
Usually when Feitan got home, especially after a long mission, (Name) was jumping up to greet him, the man catching her in his arms and spinning her around while planting a kiss on her forehead.
But that morning when he finally returned after being away for a week, his wife was nowhere in sight. He could sense her, thankfully, but she hadn’t left their room to greet him this time.
“(Name)?” Feitan called out, knocking on the bedroom door.
“Come in sweetheart.”
His heart fluttered at the pet name. They had only been together a year or so, and he was still getting used to how affectionate she was.
Feitan opened the door and peered in, seeing his little wife curled up underneath their comforter, her eyes puffy and red. He was quick to sit next to her, running his hand over her air. “Cry? Why cry?”
Her lip quivered as she looked up at him, and his heart hurt seeing her so upset. Usually, (Name) always had a pep in her step, smiling as her soft hips swayed to music no one else could here.
It’s why he fell in love with her, she was kind and nice to be around, always there for him despite his short comings.
“I… had another bad day at work…”
He scowled behind his jacket. “What this time?”
She looked away, rubbing at her teary eyes. “That woman… m-my coworker keeps saying such mean things to me. I don’t know what I did to get on her bad side but she won’t leave me alone…”
Feitan’s grip tightened on her, causing his little wife to yelp. Upon her little yelp of pain, he eased his grip, kissing her forehead. “She stupid, jealous woman. Can’t stand to see you happy.”
(Name) nodded slowly, the dark haired man moving his hand down between her legs. “Beautiful wife, make you feel better.”
She squeaked when his fingers slipped beneath her panties, rubbing her plump pussy lips before finding her clit. “F-Fei, ahh!”
He shushed her, pulling his wife into his lap to make his actions easier. Even after being married for nearly a year, she was still so shy when it came to intimacy. Feitan didn’t mind though, it was cute to him.
“Wet already, wife needed some attention. Give it to her.”
He purrs against his neck, pulling his fingers from her pussy and shoving them in her mouth. (Name) whimpers against his fingers, lapping up her juices and sucking gently. “Good girl, deserves reward..”
Feitan pushed her onto the bed, prying her thighs apart and slotting himself between them. It had been nearly two months since he got to see his beloved wife under him like this. “Gorgeous…”
He tore her underwear off, lifting up her shirt just enough to see her boobs as he thrusted into her. He loved the way she bounced and jiggled when he pounded into her soft pussy, it made him cum pathetically quick if he didn’t pace himself.
“No listen to work women, listen to husband. I love you, don’t need anyone else.”
“Y-yes Fei!”
He always enjoyed watching her come undone on his cock, and despite having a hard exterior, Feitan was rather soft for his wife. “Cum for me, (Name).”
She came around him, squeezing his cock. He found himself spilling inside of her soon after, collapsing into her soft chest. “Mmph…”
He could really get lost in her soft, plush body. It was what attracted to him so much next to her sweet personality. (Name) panted beneath him, hugging him. “I love you too, Fei… thank you, I feel a lot better now.”
And that’s all he could want, his wife happy and satisfied. At the end of the day, Feitan truly was a good and loving husband, even if no one besides (Name) knew it.
#x reader#anime x reader#headcanon#requests open#reader insert#hxh x reader#hxh imagines#smut requests#hunter x hunter x reader#hxh#hunter x hunter headcanons#hunter x hunter smut#hunter x hunter#feitan porter x reader#feitan headcanons#feitan x reader#hunter x hunter feitan#hxh feitan#feitan portor#feitan smut#hxh smut#x reader smut#smut headcanons#anime x chubby reader#chubby!reader#chubby reader#fem reader#female reader#fem!reader#smut fanfiction
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"Make me feel good"
TW: phone sex, fingering, masturbation, egging on, cumming to someone's words, dirty talk, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns
Request: I need Bill 2007 Smut where i/we (idk) are Togheter with Him And he is on Tour and He calls me/us? Because hes horny And its night time And yes he calls us With Video call or something Idk And You know...Call Sex and stuff😭 (DONT DO IT IF YOUR UNCOMFORTABLE WRITING THIS!💋❤)
Rating: 18+, mdni
WC: 1k
The air was thick with anticipation as you called bill. It was always like this when Bill was on tour, and tonight was no different. Your heart raced in your chest as you stared at your phone for what seemed like ever, waiting to hear a voice. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, bill answered.
"Hey, gorgeous," he purred, his voice low and smooth as silk. "Miss me already?"
You couldn't help but smile, the familiar warmth in his tone making you feel instantly more at ease. "Of course I do, you know I always do." You glanced around, making sure you were alone in your room. It was late, the moon shining brightly through your window, casting a soft glow over everything. "So, what's on your mind?"
There was a playful grin in Bill's voice as he answered. "Well, I was just thinking about how much I want you…and how much I wish you were here with me tonight." His voice trailed off suggestively. "You know how it is when I'm on tour, babe."
You swallowed hard, feeling a familiar heat pool in your core. "I know, I miss it too. And I miss you." You paused, taking a deep breath. "So, what did you have in mind?" You asked, trying to keep your voice steady.
Bill chuckled, voice husky. "Well, I was thinking…maybe we could have a little fun?" His eyes glinted mischievously. "You know, over the call?"
You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words. "Are you talking about…call sex?" you asked, the question barely more than a whisper.
He nodded. "Yeah, baby. That's exactly what I'm talking about. I've been thinking about it all day, and I can't wait to feel you under me." His voice lowered even more, taking on a sensual quality that made your heart race. "I want to touch you, taste you…be inside you."
You bit your lip, struggling to control the desire that coursed through your veins. "I want that too," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm not sure if I should…what if someone hears?"
Bill smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry about that, sweetness. I'll make sure nobody walks in. And besides, this is our little secret, just between us. Just a little secret between boyfriends and girlfriends.
You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "Okay," you whispered. "What do you want me to do?"
Bill's grin widened. "Why don't you start by telling me what you're wearing?" he purred. "I've been imagining it all day…thinking about how I'd touch you, taste you…make you feel good."
The air seemed to thicken around you as you listened to him, your heart pounding in your chest. "I'm…I'm wearing this tank top and these shorts," you managed to say, your voice barely audible. "They're gray"
Bill moaned softly, his voice husky with desire. "Gray, huh? I like the sound of that. It makes me want to get my hands on you, feel how soft your skin is." His voice dropped even lower, taking on a husky quality. "Why don't you take off your shorts for me, baby? Just slip them down nice and slow honey."
You swallowed hard, feeling a wave of heat wash over you as you stood up, slowly reaching down to take off the shorts. "Okay…" you whispered, feeling the cool air brush against your skin as you pulled them down over your hips. You stood there, naked from the waist down, the thrill of being so exposed sending shivers down your spine. "What do you want me to do now?"
"Oh, baby," Bill groaned. "That's it…that's perfect." He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he imagined you standing there, so beautiful and vulnerable. "Why don't you touch yourself for me? Show me what you do when you think about me?"
You blushed, feeling the familiar heat pooling in your core. You slipped your hand between your legs, feeling the wetness there as you began to touch yourself. Your fingers glided over your sensitive skin, mimicking the way he would touch you if he were here. You bit your lip, trying to stifle the moans that rose in your throat.
"That's it, baby," Bill whispered in your ear. "Let me hear you. Show me how much you want me." His voice was husky with desire, and you could almost feel his hands on you, guiding yours. "Oh fuck, you're so wet…so beautiful."
You arched your back, pressing your hips forward as you continued to stroke yourself. "Bill…I can't…I need you," you gasped, the words tumbling out of you in a rush. He was making you lose control, making you want him so badly it hurt.
"Oh, sweetness," he groaned, his voice thick with desire. "I'm right here, baby. I've got you. Just let go and let me take care of you." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Why don't you come for me, honey? Show me what it feels like when you're all mine."
The words sent a shiver down your spine, the anticipation of pleasing him making your heart race even faster. You picked up the pace, your fingers moving faster against your skin, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You felt the familiar tightening in your core, the pressure building up inside you, and then, with a cry that seemed to come from deep within you, you came.
Your fingers slowed, your breathing slowed as well, your body shuddering with the aftershocks of pleasure. You leaned against the door, your forehead glistening with sweat and your heart still racing. You could hear Bill's harsh breathing on the other end of the line, the sound of his desire filling the room.
"Bill…?" you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breathing. "Are you there?"
There was a long pause before he spoke. "Oh, baby," he whispered. "I'm right here. I've never been anywhere else." His voice was rough with emotion, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, even though he wasn't there.
Taglist: @madzandmore @20doozers
Also if you want to check out my other take on this, here's the link: I've gone mad
It's a lil similar and i think you'll enjoy it anon ♥️
#tokio hotel x reader#tokio hotel#bill kaulitz#tokio hotel x you#bill kaulitz x reader#bill kaulitz fanfic#bill kaulitz x you#bill kaulitz smut#bill kaulitz x reader smut#itsmealaiah#billskeis#evieskiesss#tokiohotel#tokio hotel fanfic#tokio hotel smut#tokio hotel x y/n
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Your friend group always making fun of how obsessed you and jude are with each other, and your both so shameless about it too 🫣 you’ll be sneaking away from the rest of the group to do stuff or you’ll just be excessively touchy/kissy around everyone, and they’ve learned to just deal with it so one day you guys are all getting ready to go out and you can’t get over how good he looks. So like two minutes before you guys leave, you call him upstairs with a lame ass excuse like “i need help finding jewellery” but everyone knows what that’s really code for. And his friends can totally hear you cuz ur terrible at being quiet so eventually they tell him they’ll just meet him there🤭
the two of you have become notorious for basically undressing each other with your eyes or initiating heated kisses when other people are around and all of your friends can never help but roll their eyes whenever it happens. typically it takes a couple of cushion whacks to the head or bullhorns in your ear to get the two of you away from each other because a simple “there’s other people here!” won’t do the trick.
you guys had all planned to have a dinner to celebrate jude’s birthday now that he was finally back in town. it had been a while since you’d all seen each other and the feeling of excitement was mutual. you of course got ready at jude’s house, where your friend group had agreed to meet. throughout the night the two of you were throwing glances at each other as you got dressed. you watched him in the mirror as he came out of the shower with his towel around his torso, you eyed up him and down as he threw on his dress shirt, you held yourself back from jumping on him when he sprayed his cologne around his upper body.
after the two of you had finished dressing, you took a couple of pics in the mirror, with his hand snaked around your waist and your head tucked in his neck. “you look so nice,” you told him turning to face him momentarily. “likewise. it’s a shame your hair and makeup looks so nice cause all i can think about right now is messing that up a little,” he whispered into your ear and he placed soft kisses along your neck and chest. you desperately wanted to hold his head there but instead he pulled away, “okay, you finish your touch ups and i’ll meet you downstairs” he said causally, as if he didn’t just single handedly cause your legs to go weak.
you stayed alone for a few moments in the room trying to clear your mind, before heading downstairs in hopes in making this feeling go away. you entered the living room where a few of your friends and your boyfriend were seated on the couch waiting for you. “you look gorgeous babe, ready to go?” one of your girls complimented. “aw, thank you. um, not yet actually. i can’t seem to find the necklace that goes with these earrings. jude, would you help me find it?” you asked, trying you best to sound innocent. “oh, i can help,” she spoke up but you immediately shut it down.
“uh, no, that’s okay. it may have gotten mixed up with his mom’s jewellery, so jude, can you come upstairs? now, please,” you pressed, the desperation becoming obvious in your tone. your friends all exchanged that look with each other, knowing what ‘help me find my jewellery was really code for. jude excused yourself and followed your up the stairs with his hand in yours. “we have to go soon, so be quick!”
your friend’s voice was completely drowned out by the sound of your door slamming shut urgently as you yanked him into his room. “i need you so bad,” you whined against his lips, amidst the messiest and most rushed make out ever. “love, we have to-”
“no, i know,” you interrupted, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in closer, “but i need you to fuck me, please.” he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t as down to do this as you were, quickies had become a staple in your relationship due to his busy schedule. but something about hearing you beg was just gonna do it for him every time, without fail. “say that again,” he egged you on. and if you were any less desperate, you would’ve rolled your eyes and told him to shut up, but instead you did as he told and repeated that phrase that would inevitably make him go feral.
before you knew it, he was pressing you against the desk he had bought for you in his room. it allowed you to prolong your stays with him instead of having to go fly home constantly to carry on with schoolwork. without breaking the kiss, you both worked to knock all of the papers, pens and books off of the table to make room. once it was clear, he lifted you up from under your thighs, stepping in between the gap between your legs as he sat you on the desk. “oh, we’ve never done it here before,” you commented as you rushed to unbutton his jeans. “first time for everything,” he replied, scrunching your dress up to reveal your now soaked underwear.
it wasn’t your intention to be as loud as you were, it was just part of your nature. your quietest volume was still loud enough for someone within close range to hear exactly what was going on, and a part of you couldn’t even find yourself to be embarrassed anymore. “fuck, you’re so good,” you cried as jude pounded harshly into you, causing the table to crash against the wall repeatedly. he groaned into the kisses he was leaving on your neck as you pressed your hand into his hair. “don’t stop, please,” you begged. he carried on giving it to you as good as he could, trying to hold back his own noises that were threatening to come through.
it was a miracle that between the sounds of your skin slapping and the table against the wall, you managed to hear the knock on the door. “uh, yeah?” you called out, as you tried to focus your attention on which of your friends was just outside his room, instead of the feeling of jude rubbing your clit at a rapid pace. “you guys ready yet, cuz the reservation is booked for 8? it’s almost half 7.”
“yeah, we’ll be read-fuck!” you weren’t sure if jude had purposely hit your sweet spot in that moment, but either way it was terrible timing because it had you moaning embarrassingly loud while his best friend stood just a few metres away. noticing that you were in no state to speak, jude took over while he let you express yourself as much as you needed to. “yeah that’s calm,” he called out, his own eyes shutting from how amazing it felt to be inside you, “we should be done in like ten minutes.”
“twenty,” you shouted out, correcting your boyfriend as you looked directly in the eyes while sliding your dress off your shoulders completely. he looked mesmerised by the sight of you, and knew there and then that even twenty minutes would’ve seemed like a rush. “you know what, how about we meet you guys there?” he suggested, proceeding to speed up the pace and become more aggressive with his thrusts.
his friend tried not to be disgusted by the noises come from your room, deciding to just give a hurried response and run downstairs. the two of you waited until you heard the front door shut, and then you knew you were free to be as loud and disruptive as you pleased. at least until the further extended thirty minutes were up.
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right person (2/3)
pairing: luca x reader
wc: 3.3k
a/n: part two is hereee! i took the conversation that marcus and luca had while chopping/folding dough and revamped it for this fic <3 hope yall like it
warnings: 18+ SMUT, swearing
part 1 / part 3
as it turns out making shiso gelee wasn't as complicated as it sounds but it also helped massively that chef luca is always near to correct any mistakes.
the kitchen is silent besides the sounds of pots and smacking of dough from marcus' station.
luca is drying some tupperware at the table behind you while you whisk some liquid gelatin.
"that's a little bit too thick," he says peering over. "so just add some more pineapple juice."
you caught a whiff of his aftershave which made you want to lose your mind. "yes, chef."
doing as he instructed, you add more juice. "just to know for the future, can i ask why?"
he glances at you before going back to his task at hand. "uh, the thicker it is, the stronger it is. so too thick and it overpowers the other components."
"good to know... and what do you serve this with exactly?"
"uh, we do that with a thin slice of marzipan and a caramel cracker," luca answers.
"damn, that sounds good," you say.
"yeah, it's a nice dish," he comes over to your side and puts away some freshly dried containers.
"uh you're good to go on your break, by the way. we can pick this up in 15,"
"are you sure?"
"yes. the gel needs to set anyways."
"thank you, chef," you smile and make your way to an area behind the restaurant for a smoke break. lucky for you, that area had a nice wooden bench. you take a seat and place a cigarette between your lips, lighting it.
taking your first drag, you shut your eyes and lean your head against the exposed brick of the building.
"i, uh, i don't suppose i could use your lighter, chef," a voice asks. the accent is instantly recognizable.
"oh, sure," you go over to where he's standing and close the distance between you as you light his bud.
you stuff your lighter back into your pocket but don't return to the bench.
"y/n," you say after a few moments.
"sorry?"
"it's just, uh, when we aren't in the kitchen, you can call me y/n,"
he nods.
"so tell me y/n," he says. "how do you like you copenhagen so far?"
"well, considering i've been in the city less than 48 hours, i have no complaints. the scenery is beautiful. food is pretty good and the people..." you look up at him. "i'm still getting to know the people."
he holds your gaze before letting out a cloud of smoke. "hmm."
if you didn't think there was a weird tension between you earlier, you definitely feel it now.
“if you, uh, ever want a proper tour, let me know,” luca says.
it takes everything you have to not breakout into a massive smile. “thanks, chef.”
“outside the kitchen, luca,”
this time you nod. “luca.”
he clears throat and steps on his cigarette. “well, we’d better get back inside and check on the gelee,”
“of course, how could we forget about the gelee,” you say following him back in and you swear you hear him chuckle.
when you got back to your station, you began blanching some large green leaves first by boiling it in hot water and then immediately dumping it in a metal bowl filled with ice water so it doesn't lose its colour.
luca took the metal bowl and brought it to the table behind you where the blender was. he takes a clump of the leaves and then adds water.
"start off low," luca says as he turns on the blender.
the loud noise jolts you a bit.
"you can see the colour change," he says as you move closer. "you see it starting to get brighter?"
"gorgeous colour," you say.
"yeah, it is."
luca pours the green liquid into a sifter and hands you the purified liquid.
he watches as you pour the liquid into a new bowl and asks you to to bloom the gelatin with the cold green liquid to prevent potential clumps.
the second half of your shift flew by because before you knew it, it was time to clock out of the day.
in the change room, you removed your apron and since you were alone you removed your shirt as well quickly sliding on the grey sweatshirt you came with.
just as you brought your sweatshirt down, luca walked in and stood at his locker across from you.
turning your head slightly to peek at him, you caught him pulling off his shirt and since his back was turned towards you, he couldn't see you drinking in the sight of him.
you turned back around and pressed your lips.
"uh, luca," you say.
"yeah?" he says.
"about that, uh, personal tour? is now a good time?" you slowly turn his way.
he cracked the faintest smile. "sure. anywhere particular in mind?"
you shake your head. "wherever you wanna show me,"
"in that case, might i suggest some sustenance first? does coffee sound good?"
"coffee sounds fucking great," you sigh and follow him out the door and on to the sidewalk.
"there's this cafe that i love just up the road," he says.
walking alongside him, you take in your height difference. he's probably 6'2" to your 5'7" so it was perfect.
when you arrive at a hole-in-the-wall cafe, that had blue painted bricks and picture frames of happy looking folks. probably customers or family members.
"hi," luca says going up to the old woman behind the counter. "can i get a medium black coffee and...." he looks to you to say your coffee of choice.
"just a caramel latte please,"
"a caramel latte," he repeats "and two snegls please,"
you grab a table for the two of you near the window so you can people watch while luca gets your order. it's midday now and you watch as people in their own little lives pass by the window.
luca makes his way to you holding two coffee cups and clutching two bags of pastries.
"okay now can i ask what the hell a snegl is?" you say once he's seated.
"sure. it's cinnamon roll style pastry but shaped like a snails shell if that makes sense," he explains.
"so a cinnamon bun?"
he was going to refute your statement but upon seeing the look on your face, he concedes. "yeah, it's a cinnamon bun,"
you guys shard a small laugh.
"so long have you been a cook?" he asks taking a sip of his hot drink.
"about six years now. i went to university for psychology but didn't really feel like it was my thing," you answer.
"so you dropped out?"
"no. after all the hard work my parents did to raise me, dropping out, no matter how disengaged i was, was not an option. so i got that degree but i did tell them the truth. that my heart wasn't in it for that right reasons."
"so how did you fall into cooking?" luca sat up ready to hear your story.
"my dad taught me everything i know," you say a lump started to form in your throat. "i swear his favourite place besides his bed was the kitchen."
luca stayed silent and let you collect yourself. "he passed recently... but he was the best mentor i could have asked for."
"i'm sure he's proud," luca said with sincerity.
you give him a small smile.
"what about you?" you say ready to move on before you start crying in front of your hot co-worker. "how long have you been doing this?"
"uh, fourteen years now..."
"oh, so you started when you were three?" you ask deadpanned.
he chuckles. "close enough, yeah."
"and with that accent i'm guessing you're from london."
"you'd be correct. and you're from chicago?"
"born n raised," you confirm. "so did you go to culinary school?"
"i didn't. no. i didn't do too well in school. got in quite a bit of trouble. ditched the check. they caught me. made me wash dishes, and, uh, i loved it."
"wow, you might be the only person i know that loves washing dishes,"
he shrugs. "it gives me time to reflect."
"fair enough," you hold your hands up. "i can't argue with that."
"so, uh, you said your dad passed recently, but how recent? if you don't mind me asking?"
"no, not at all. i love talking about him," you say. "he died a little over a year ago and not gonna lie... i didn't handle it too well. it was sudden. in his sleep. so i had no chance to say goodbye and i think that's what still hurts more than anything."
you let a tear fall but quickly wiped it away. "i'm sorry."
"you never have to apologize to me. ever. and especially for crying," he hands you a tissue that came with the pastries.
"you're an only child?" he asks taking out a snegl and placing one in front of you.
"i have two brothers. and you?"
"uh, yeah. i have a younger sister somewhere... yeah,"
"somewhere?" you echo taking slow bites of your snegl.
he clears his throat. "half-sister, i have to clarify. my parents separated when i young and my mum quickly found someone new. then my sister came along and then one day... my mum just left. no goodbye or anything just a note saying she wanted to focus on herself... my step-dad got custody of my sister and well i was 18 by that time so i moved out and moved on."
you stay silent for a few seconds. you couldn't believe a mother could abandoned her kids like that, especially someone as great as luca.
"she's missing out... your mom."
"yeah," he sighs.
you were starting to see luca in a different light. after telling him your story and you his, all you wanted to do was hold him and hope to ease his pain and loss. but you couldn't do that so you opted for something safer. kind of...
"hey, want to come back to mine and i can cook us a meal or something?"
"you still wanna cook after today?"
"you can take the cook out of the kitchen, but you can’t take the kitchen out of the cook."
he laughs at that. "okay, let's go."
you and luca talk some more on the way to your place. he makes you laugh telling stories of his younger rugrat days in london and when you're talking, he hangs on to your every word.
"you... live on a boat?" he says when you arrive.
you look back opening the door. "cool, huh?"
"very."
you turn to luca as you place your bag on a hook at the front door. "can i get you anything?"
"water is fine," he says taking a seat the dining table. you get his water and tell him to make himself comfortable as you went up stairs to change into a t-shirt and loose jeans.
it's only when you make your way back down and see luca sitting at the table, that you've realized how small your space and intimate your living space was.
"what's on the menu for tonight, chef?" luca asks as he spots you coming down the steps.
"home made pizza, if your elegant taste buds can handle that?" you reply.
"i can never turn down a pizza,"
you got started on the dough and soon enough luca is by your side helping. what was supposed to be you cooking for him, turned to him taking over and doing all the work which you let him happily.
"how did you get good at this?" you ask as you finished with your slice.
he exhales. "honestly, i made a lot of mistakes."
"so that's the secret then? just fuck up?"
he smiles. "it might be, you know, fuck up."
"i think 'cause i started early, i got my skill set up really quick and then started to feel like i was really the best, you know, like at all these really good places. i really was the best cook. and then i started at this really great place as a commis. and this other chef started the same day as me, and..." he sighs.
"i thought we were competition, um, but really we weren't. he was better than me. much, much better than me. he worked harder and faster than i ever could. and it was the first time i realized that i wasn't the best," he confides.
"and i was never gonna be the best. so i started looking at it like it was a good thing. like, at least i knew who the best was now, and i could take that pressure off myself. and the only logical thing to do was to try and keep up with him. so i never left this guy's side."
"and you got better," you say.
"oh, i got better than i ever thought i possibly could be just from trying to keep up with him."
"that's incredible, honestly," you say putting the dirty dishes in the sink and hopping on the counter.
"thanks but i think at a certain stage it becomes less about skill and it's more about being open."
"open?" you echo.
"yeah. to-to the world, to yourself, to other people. you know, most of the incredible things that i've eaten haven't been because the skill level is exceptionally high or there's loads of mad fancy techniques. it's because it's been really inspired, you know." he says.
"i like that," you say softly.
"you can spend all the time in the world in the kitchen, but if you don't spend enough time out there..." he trails off but you understood what he meant.
"right," you nod.
luca lifts his gaze to you. "it helps to have good people around you, too."
"is what i am? good people?" you smile coyly.
he gets up and walks over to you, placing his hands on either side of the counter in front of you. "honestly? i really think so."
a few moments go by where luca just studies your face and you can feel your heart beating a million miles per hour.
"you are so fucking beautiful," he finally says. his voice barely above a whisper.
those words set your body aflame. you parted your lips and he leaned. "may i?"
"please," was all you managed to get out before luca held your chin and guided your lips to his. he was taking things slow, trying to sus your level of comfortability and giving you the chance to pull away if you wanted but you didn't want that. ever.
you brought your arms around his neck pushing him closer to you. the kiss got heavier and you moaned as he bit your lip. "i have been wanting to do this since i first saw you,"
"good because i've wanted this too," you say as luca starts to kiss your neck and moves his hands under your top.
he slides his hand up and down your back and then around to your boobs to start playing with your nipples. you lean your head back and revel in his affection.
you were desperate to get his hands on him as well so you lifted the black hoodie he adorned wanting to see his chest that you caught just a glimpse of earlier.
"wow," you say as you running both hands across his pecs and abs. you trail your fingers down south before you cup him through his jeans. "is this okay?" you whisper.
"more than okay," he lets out as you message him through his jeans.
he moves to take off your top next and you help, revealing your bare chest to him. luca looks at you in awe and immediately attaches his lips to your nipple while still playing with other.
you unbutton your jeans and luca helps you shimmy out of them.
"fuck," he whispered at the sight of you sitting completely naked and ready for him. he slides two fingers up and down your slit. "you're so wet, is this all for me?"
you whimper at his touch, spreading your legs wider. "all for you, luca."
he brings his fingers to his lips to taste you. "just like i imagined, you taste so sweet" he says as he gets on his knees and slides you to the edge of the counter.
the first lick was heaven. you couldn't help but throw your head back and moan. luca doesn't waste anytime, eating you like your his last meal.
"l-luca," you whine as he sucks on your clit. you grab his golden locks as he laps at your cunt.
"you're the best thing i've ever tasted," luca says in between licks. coming from a chef, that was the highest praise a girl could get.
he detaches himself from your cunt, his nose, lips and chin covered in your juices. he stands and holds your face in his hands and kisses you. you taste yourself on his tongue as he slipped it down your mouth.
"i need to fuck you or else i'm gonna lose my mind," he says in breathy whispers.
"upstairs," is all you said before he carries you in that direction and up the stairs to your bed.
luca drops you on the bed and you lay on your forearms and watch as him takes off his jeans and then his boxers. as he pulls that down, he watches you watch him.
your eyes go wide at the sight of his hard, and rather large, dick. you reach to wipe the pre-cum leaking from his tip, pressing it to your lips. he groans and climbs on top of you. "condom?"
"i'm on the pill," you say caressing his hair back and bringing his lips back to yours.
luca takes his aching dick and rubs it against your slit. "are you ready?"
"mmhm," you say as he wraps your legs around his waist as he sinks into you.
muffled moans are exchanged between the two of you as your mouths clashed hungrily.
"you're so big, luca" you say, squeezing down on his eliciting a hiss from him.
"y-yes squeeze me like that again... fuck," he thrusts his hip into you at a steady pace as you scratched your nails across his muscled back.
"this feels so good," he murmurs.
you gasp as he pulls out almost all the way only to push back int you again. you pull your knees up so he can reach deeper inside you. you could feel him stretching you and filling you up, his beautiful face inches away from yours as he peppers your neck with sloppy kisses.
the sounds falling from your lips are incoherent, his pace moving at a high speed as he wants to get you off. it didn't take long for you to gain the warm sensation in the pit of your stomach. "i'm so c-close,"
"yeah? cum for me, darling," he moans keeping that speed that he's at, his dick throbbing inside you as well signalling he was gonna cum soon.
luca let out a throaty groan before he snaps his hips into you, feeling his first load release into your cunt. you follow close behind as you cover his dick with your wetness but he stills fucks you through your high.
as you catch your breaths, he leans his forehead against your collarbone before he pulls out.
"wait there," he says and goes downstairs and comes back up just as quickly carrying paper towels. he smiles to himself seeing you in your current position all fucked out, liking the effect he had on you.
the bed dips as luca makes his way to you and cleans you up.
you slide under the covers, and when he discards the paper towels, he joins you.
"that was good," you say as he brings you into his chest.
his fingers trail up and down your arm softly while he lays his head on top of yours.
"it was," he says planting a kiss on your head.
"can we stay like this for a bit?" you ask not wanting this moment to end.
"yeah, i'm not going anywhere," he says.
between the day that you had and luca caressing you, you let tiredness wash over you.
tags: @leopard-skin-pillbox-hat-ok, @eddiemunsonreader, @sodapop182, @haydensith, @inpraizeof, @thecraziestcrayon, @zeeader, @tiana76, @jackierose902109
hope you guys enjoyed part two and thank you for all the support on the first part! part three is coming soon <3
#the bear#the bear season 2#chef luca#the bear luca#will poulter#will poulter x reader#will poulter imagine#the bear imagine#the bear fanfic#the bear fx#luca x reader#chef luca imagine
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IM WITH YOU FOR MORE FLUFFY FAE GHOST! FLUFF ALL AROUND PLEASE
So Love can call him with his name but what if she’s gushing about him to Liebling and it’s like that thing where your ears are ringing but he can hear all the nice things she’s saying and how in love she is
Yes yes yes more fluff for my favorite boy!!! Love gushes to Liebling about her boyfriend-husband all the time she loves him so much she can't help it. Liebling is jealous of how open Love is with her feelings but will never admit it.
Sometimes you get in these grooves monologuing on a single subject and you just can't stop. Like right now. Talking about your boyfriend.
"And he's really good with his hands," you gush.
"You already said he was good in bed," Liebling hums, flipping the page in her magazine.
"He is, but I mean like... artsy crafty stuff," you lean over the counter, not bothering to move much for the fae behind you. It's not like they're going to buy anything anyway. "Simon is weirdly really good at drawing, he's been helping me journal and he does these cute little doodles of anything I can't glue down. It's fantastic. Plus the bracelet, you've seen how cute the bracelet is."
Liebling hums again, you don't think she's listening but you don't really care. You don't want to stop talking yet so you won't.
"I know I should feel bad making Simon do so much for me, but he takes such good care of me. I mean look at my hair! Look at my skin! I'm fucking glowing, bitch." You hold your hair up to Lieblings face, you haven't had a split end in months.
She glances up at you and squints, then shields her eyes, "Yeah, you're like actually fucking glowing. Never seen so much gold on you."
You pluck at the tethers you can only feel, at the lightness and warmth in your chest. "Is it pretty? I can't-" you can't see it, you wish you could.
Liebling sighs and finally gives you a proper look. Still squinting at the light of it. You can almost see the glow reflected in her eyes.
"Yeah," she says with a small smile, "It's really pretty." You press your fingers against your smile, feeling the tethers you pull under your lips.
"Simon is so funny, he really wrapped me up in these things," not that you're complaining, the tethers feel secure, you've never felt this secure with anything in your life, "as if I'd ever want to leave him."
"Ghost freaks me out," Liebling mumbles, going back to her magazine.
"Alright well, you're a big baby, and I'm not scared of Simon. He's sweet. You're just jealous because König is a weirdo." You wave a hand, brushing off Lieblings frown.
"He's not a weirdo." You both glance at König across the shop, he's staring you down, his hand half way in a bag of potting mix. You turn back to Liebling who looks sensibly embarrassed.
"Anyway," you tell her, "Maybe if your shop wasn't so busy he wouldn't be masked up all the time. Simon's really cute under the mask, he's got these gorgeous sparkly brown eyes and the longest eyelashes I've ever seen, and our kids are gonna-" you bite your lip to stop the stream, your chest hot and pulling. You wish Simon was here, you always wish he was near you. You could call him, he wouldn't be mad, but you should be able to get through the day without him.
Liebling gives you a confused look, unsure if you're going to finish the monologue or if it's finally her turn to talk. "Couldn't tell you what König looks like, I try not to think about it." You'd wonder if it was that bad if her cheeks didn't turn red. Yeah. You bet she thinks about it a lot.
"Couldn't be me, I think about Simon all the time."
-
Ghost has never been more grateful for his mask. He's red, he can feel the heat of his blush burning to the tips of his ears. You're lighting up your tethers with kind words and compliments and his name falling like it's own desire from your lips. He leans against the table, dragging a hand over the skull mask. He wishes he could say he wants you to stop.
"Lighting up like a damn Christmas tree." Price gripes, ever observant as he blows off the smoke from his cigar. It swirls over the table, wrapping inquisitive tendrils around Ghosts whisps.
"His lass is name dropping," Soap tells him.
"The wife I haven't met yet." It's a dangerous truth, one Ghost doesn't have a credible answer for yet. He'll pay for it later, when Price finally does meet you. Right now it's nice having you all to himself.
"You're married?" Gaz asks across the table, Price throws another glare Ghost's way and nods.
"Wasn't my fault," Ghost tells him.
"Oh no, you should've seen this girl, absolutely brilliant, never seen anyone so-" Soap stops when he catches Ghost's glare, "Practically made to be ensnared," he whispers to Gaz, who grins.
"Gone after her like a proper fae, eh?" Gaz fixes Ghost with his ever observant gaze, "Didn't think you knew how to do that."
Ghost feels all his tethers pull tight, every nerve buzzing with you. "Gotta go," he tells the group quickly, not bothering to finish his bourbon before dropping his coin on the table, "the Missus calls."
"Bring her around sometime," Price leans back in his chair, "or I'll start making house calls." Soap and Gaz exchange a look, Ghost winces and nods before letting the shadows carry him away.
#fae!Ghost#Fae!Soap#fae!gaz#Fae!Price#“Someday our kids are gonna smile like him” Love thinks to herself#and immediately is like “fuck wait do I want kids??”#I've changed my mind I think Liebling and Love are besties#I just think it's a black cat and golden retriever friendship#the anxiety disorder and the girl who has never worried about anythin in her life#they wouldn't be friends without their boyfriends but they're besties now#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#cod x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost x reader#x reader#oc: love#oc: liebling
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THIS IS WHAT IT FEELS LIKE | MICK SCHUMACHER
"living in a movie i've watched and funny, cause you couldn't have called it, met you at the right time, this is what it feels like"
not my gif :)
summary: where your best friend is sick of you thinking your not deserving of love and so she introduces you to a certain someone
pairing: mick schumacher x professional golfer!reader
notes: i really wanna make a part 2 of this, so if any of you guys are interested in a part 2 please comment! loosely based off 'feels like' by gracie abrams
warnings: a universe where mick is in ferrari and ferrari aren't idiots, unedited work
-
the sound of your metal club hitting the ball pierced through the quietness of the morning. the skies were still painted hues of orange as the sun was rising as you watched the direction of the ball.
using your foot to roll out another ball in front of you on the grass, you adjusted your stance as you set up. gripping the club as you gave yourself time before swinging back and hitting the white ball.
“nice one!”
turning around to see where the familiar voice was coming from, you smiled as you saw lily. you hadn’t seen her in quite sometime after she left to attend the australian grand prix to support her boyfriend and to play a tournament. “lily!”
you had known lily since childhood having met her at a small tournament. and eventually, what was just being penpals, meeting at tournaments and visiting one another with always the same talks about turning pro had turned into a life long friendship. and, truthful to your dreams, both of you turned pro at the same time and got onto the lpga tour.
“congrats on the t5 finish,” you smiled as you hugged the older girl. “i watched the highlights, you were amazing! how was australia as well?”
“australia was fun, alex bagged a p8 so he was quite happy about that,” she spoke as you two pulled away, going to her clubs which she had put at the bay next to you. “enough talk about me, how about you?”
shaking your head, you shrugged, “same stuff— golf, study, rest, the gym…finals are over now so i might go do something to reward myself.”
“i guess one of us needs to have a university degree,” she joked. you were on your final year of your mechanical engineering degree whilst she had dropped out from her course; though you couldn’t blame her for that as balancing university with being on tour was a difficult feat. “how about the rest?”
“the rest?” you asked, confused as you approached your golf bag, switching the club you were going to use. shortly, it dawned on you what ‘the rest’ meant. “still have no one, lily, you know that.”
“oh come on, (y/n)!” lily rolled her eyes, “please! i have some people that i can introduce you to!”
“lily…” you sighed, “i’m too busy with studying and practice half the time. romance just isn’t really something in the books right now and i haven’t exactly earned one.”
“how are you going to be smart enough to do engineering but dumb enough to believe that you have to earn love,” lily shook her head. “please, just let me introduce you to someone.”
“…and who is this person?”
“you’ll see, just follow me to monaco.”
“what?”
—
“lily, i hope you’re sure about this…” you mumbled as you two made your way around the paddock, the older girl clearly more familiar. “i feel a little out of place…and everyone else is—”
“quit that nonsense!” she let out a smile, “you look gorgeous! you’ve got the best paddock outfit in my opinion.”
“yeah, thanks for helping me choose an outfit,” you shyly smiled as you walked alongside lily as she showed you the ropes of navigating around a formula 1 paddock.
of course, you were familiar with the sport having been a formula 1 fan since you were young but being inside the paddock was a completely different experience for you. looking at the garages where the mechanics and engineers were hard at work, you adverted your attention to your best friend who had took your hand.
“alex!” she smiled, greeting her boyfriend before saying hi to the rest of the drivers. “oh, and i brought (y/n) with me!”
“oh my god, i’m starting to think you like her more than me! even your dog loves her more than me!” shaking his head, alex rolled his eyes, “how could you,” he playfully slapped his hand against his chest, pretending to be hurt by your invite to the weekend, “she’s literally responsible for ‘albolognese’!”
unable to hold back a laugh, you smiled, “you should take that as a compliment.”
“why?!”
“because the spaghetti was good!”
“the nickname is so bad!”
“no it isn’t!” you justified, “you had red hair and you cooked a really good spaghetti bolognese, calling you ‘albolognese’ is only acceptable.”
looking at his girlfriend hoping she would come into defence, alex let out a groan and a loud ‘come on’ upon seeing her struggle to hold back a laugh upon the interaction between her best friend and boyfriend.
“anyways,” you cleared your throat, still smiling over the dumb joke. “hi everyone, my name’s (y/n), i’m lily’s best friend. nice to meet you guys.”
“oh! you’re (y/n)!” one of the drivers which you recognised as mick could be heard. “lily always talks about you! hi, i’m mick.”
“i hope it’s all good things,” you smiled, glancing at lily who gave a playful smile and shrug. “nice to meet you.”
“mick! maybe you could show (y/n) around!” lily suggested, catching both of you off guard, taking alex's hand. "patrick is probably looking for alex, so we're going to be at the williams garage, see you!"
lily's intent crystal clear to everyone else except mick and you, everyone quickly making excuses to leave so that it was just the both of you as awkwardness settled in.
"uhm..." mick spoke, trying to figure out where to go next, "i could show you around the paddock?"
"yeah, that'd be nice. thank you, mick," you smiled as he took the lead, following behind him as he acted as your guide around the formula 1 paddock where risk met reward.
"you look really pretty- uh- your outfit is really nice," mick complimented, trying to break the awkwardness. but though the main intent of it was so there was less tension, the compliment was no less of genuine.
"thanks, lily helped me choose it," a giggle was let out, as you looked at mick who seemed to ease up as he ran his fingers through his hair.
"that's my car over there," the german spoke as he pointed towards the red car boasting the number '47' on it. "it's my first season with ferrari so i'm quite excited for the race and monaco is practically the crown jewel of formula 1...sorry i'm rambling."
"it's okay," you smiled, "it's the monaco grand prix! i mean, yeah, the track has no mercy and overtaking must be a nightmare but it's monaco. you win here, you're already one of the greats, plus ferrari has been competitive this season."
eyes widening, mick couldn't help but let out a grin, "formula 1 fan?"
"since young," you hummed as you walked next to him, "been a ferrari fan forever!"
as you continued your conversation as the german driver showed you around the paddock as both of you talked about anything from racing to your sports careers to your daily lives, you couldn't help but enjoy his company though having known him for a short time as you took in the sounds of the formula 2 and 3 cars and the smell of fuel and burnt rubber.
"hey, uhm, do you wanna go for dinner after the race on sunday?" mick asked, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "i mean it's fine if you say no-"
"i'd love to," you smiled as you soon exchanged phone numbers and social media handles with each other.
observing you two in secrecy, lily and alex watched as you became comfortable around each other.
a smile spread, "they like each other, definitely," lily sighed contently. "the eyes never lie."
#mick schumacher#mick schumacher x reader#mick schumacher x y/n#mick schumacher x you#mick schumacher one shot#mick schumacher instagram au#mick schumacher au#mick schumacher imagine#mick schumacher smut#mick schumacher fluff#f1 x you#f1 x oc#f1 x reader#f1 x y/n#f1 instagram au#f1 au#f1 one shot#f1 smut#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 blurb
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Can I request an Eddie and Roan, where she goes to Wayne's house and Eddie and Reader are there talking with Wayne but also planning what to get Roan for Christmas?
eddie and roan ♡ fem!reader
“Got it?”
Roan nods and hops up the last step to Uncle Wayne's while you and Eddie follow behind her. You're carrying a big Christmas cake held tight to your chest while Roan's father insists on carrying the drinks, an eighteen pack of glass cokes, enough to keep Wayne going for the next two weeks at least, less with help.
“Uncle Wayne!” Roan calls as she opens the door. It swings wide and hits the wall. She doesn't care. She's about to see Wayne for the first time in almost two weeks, and she missed him like crazy. Eddie almost got sick of hearing her ask when he'd be feeling better. “Uncle Wayne!”
The second shout is much more desperate.
Wayne appears in the curve behind the kitchen doorway to smile at her. “Hello, my chicken.”
Eddie snorts and slams the cokes down on the sideboard with a jumble of clinks. Wayne is a great dad, but he never called Eddie anything so saccharine. Bud and babe was about as good as it got. Roan gets all the sweet stuff, chicken and gorgeous and baby girl. It doesn't quite make Eddie jealous —nothing feels as secure in parenthood as knowing someone else loves your kid just as much as you do. Wayne would die for Roan without question. He can call her chicken if he likes.
Roan barrels across the carpet in her Mary Jane's and slams into his legs. He pulls her up into his chest, giving her hair a smattering of quick kisses, her dress bunched by his hugging arm. “It's so nice to see you, honey, I missed you!”
She grins and makes a pleased, almost feral sort of sound as she kisses his cheek. “I missed you too! We missed our sleepover!”
“Yes, we did. So I get you for two days, yes?”
“Yes!” she shouts, looking over her shoulder at you and Eddie to confirm.
Eddie holds up his now empty hands, though they don't stay that way for long as he takes the cake from you. “No arguments here.”
Roan laughs and squeezes herself under Wayne's chin. He wraps her up and keeps her, assessing you and Eddie with suspicious eyes. “How are you both doing?”
Eddie brushes past Wayne to put the cake on the table. Wayne isn't really asking Eddie; they know too much about one another having spent the last decade together, first by sharing a wall and now working side by side at the shop. Eddie's sure Wayne's sick to death of his complaining by now, but you're deserving of some sympathy for sure.
“She's getting better. Aren't you, sweet thing?” Eddie asks you.
“I'm fine,” you say, shooting Wayne a smile. “It was probably the same thing you had.”
“Yeah? He take care of you?”
“Always does. He's never let me down.” You cross your arms over your front. “But how are you doing?”
“I know you missed her,” Eddie interjects, “but if you're not feeling up to it, she doesn't have to stay all weekend.”
Wayne raises his eyebrows to protest. Roan beats him to it, yanking herself away from his cuddling to glare at the suggestion. “Dad, you said!”
“Said I'd see if he was up to it, yeah,” Eddie placates.
“I'm up to it.” Wayne gives Roan a soft smile. “We'll be good, right? Watch TV, eat hot dogs for breakfast, lunch, ‘n’ dinner. Dad's just being silly.”
Roan leans back into the hug, relieved, and Wayne pulls her head to his chest, covering her ear subtly. “Thought you needed to get some things? You know, from Santa?” he whispers, ‘Santa’ mouthed without sound.
“Yeah, if we knew what to get her,” Eddie says, brushing his hair behind his ears. “Kid's impossible. Asked Santa for a baby sister and a pet turtle.”
“What's wrong with that?”
“Wayne–”
“The turtle, I mean.” He nods at you apologetically.
You aren't offended at the idea of a baby sister being an easy gift, and you laugh at his correction. “We don't have room for the tank, I already checked.”
“She got the measuring tape out and everything.”
“What?” Wayne asks. “Put it outside.”
“It's not that easy,” Eddie sighs morosely. “They're very particular creatures.”
“It’ll suit you nicely, then.”
You laugh again. Roan wriggles to be put down, curious at the sound, though she wasn't as deafened as it seemed. “Santa will bring the tank, guys, that's how Santa works, and the turtle. We just need to move the couch,” she says simply.
“Where will we watch TV?” you ask.
“Here?” Roan suggests.
Eddie nudges Wayne in the side. “Looks like I'm moving back in after all.”
Coats are taken off, shoes stacked in a corner. Wayne makes everyone a cup of coffee and a sandwich, even Roan, though her coffee is milk with just a splash of coffee that she begs for but doesn't touch after the initial sip. Theories for where they might house and care for a pet turtle are shared through crumbs and foam moustaches, Wayne with a lap full of grandchild, and you with an armful of Eddie. He keeps turning to you to scan your face for signs of fatigue or sickness, eyes lingering, his hand resting and rubbing at the top of your thigh.
“We'll have to give up our room,” he suggests to you with an air of defeat. Despite his sombre tone, love lines his gaze. “When the turtle gets huge and wants to go back to the ocean, we'll have to fill our bedroom up with a swimming pool.”
Roan sits back guiltily. “Well, maybe not like that. Can the turtle sleep with me?”
“That could be fun. We'll get you a water bed,” you say, to Eddie's delight. He chokes on a handful of chips and needs to be whacked on the back lest he asphyxiate, and while you're still laughing at your own joke and his reaction, you pat him more gently on the back before passing him your full coke. “Here, handsome.”
Wayne's pretty sure his nephew's found his soulmate. “What about a tortoise instead?” he asks Roan, attempting to spare you both.
Roan pouts at her Uncle, confusion furrowing her thin brows. “What's the difference?”
“Couple hundred dollars?” Eddie asks.
Wayne kicks him under the table, but never hard enough to hurt. “Nothing much, chick. I'm sure Santa will figure it out.”
#eddie and roan#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson scenario#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfiction#dad!eddie munson#dad!eddie munson x reader#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things x reader#stranger things 4
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Reminiscing tutor
StayC Isa X Male Reader
Tags: old friend Isa, daddy kink, blowjob, creampie
"Don't forget to use protection." Your housemate, Dohyeok teases.
"Yah, it's just a tutor session, not a date you moron." You argue. You prepared all of the stuff that you need for the tutoring session.
You, Yang Kibum, are in your last year at your university, High Up University. You are also the top student in academics and sports in the university. Everyone in the university, including students and lecturers, respects you because of your diligence and kindness and most students make you their role model.
It was last Wednesday that Dr. Kang, your Maths lecturer, told you that there's a student in the third year who is failing badly in that course. In order to overcome that, he puts the person in a tutor session for that course with you.
You, without a doubt, agree to do that tutor session. But when you ask him who'll you be tutoring, things start to go awkward for you.
Cause it's your old best friend's slash crush, Lee Chaeyoung or mostly known as Isa.
You and Isa have been the closest of friends since you were eight and she was six. Even though you two have a two years difference, it didn't stop both of you from doing things together back then. You even called her 'Chaey' back then which she finds cute and suitable for her.
As time goes by, you grow up into a fine man while she grows up into a gorgeous woman, almost angellike. At this point, you have developed a crush on her and hope that you two become a couple. However, you noticed that she's attracted to lots of handsome boys at the university. This makes you believe that she deserves someone better than you, which causes you to avoid her, and things get distant between the two of you.
Somehow, this tutoring session reunites both of you. You wonder how she'll react when you'll be her tutor. Also, you do feel odd about why she wants a tutor on the course that she always aced. Anyhow, you prepared yourself for your upcoming tutor session with Isa.
Fast forward to today, you are going to her place for the tutoring session. Apparently, she lives in an apartment near the university all by herself. Well, you don't care too much and go to the address that you got from Dr. Kang last week.
As you reached the front of her apartment unit, you rang the doorbell and waited for her to come open the door. You feel nervous all of a sudden since this is the first time you two meet after all of your attempts to avoid her.
Seconds later, the door opens and it reveals the person who's in your mind at the moment. She's wearing a white crop tank with white pants with butterfly-like holes at the front. This makes her look ethereal and sexy at the same time.
"Oh oppa, you've arrived. Come inside." She says. With that, you enter her apartment and sit on the sofa in her living room.
"Wow, you sure did have a nice and comfy apartment here, Isa." You try to make a conversation with her. "Yes indeed, oppa." She replied.
"So, can we start the tutoring session? Where do you want to do it and which topic do you want me to teach you?" You ask. "Yes, in my bedroom, oppa. Could you teach me trigonometry, oppa?" She replied. It's quite reasonable that she didn't quite get the topic because it's the hardest topic in the course for her semester. You also had problems with the topic back then.
Then, both of you go to her bedroom and she sits in front of her studying table while you sit next to her. And with that, you two begin the tutoring session by you helping her to understand trigonometry.
After twenty-five minutes, you tell her to rest for a while before you resume it later. She then goes out and when she re-enters, she brings some snacks for you. She invites you to eat in which you accept.
"So oppa, we hadn't hung out like when we were kids. How's your life so far, oppa?" She asks. "Yeah, I guess so. My life is just like my normal routine. I guess you know my routine, right Chaey-." You mentally slapped yourself when you called her the old nickname that you used to call back then.
"Oppa, you haven't forgotten the nickname you used to call me back then. It's okay oppa, please use it, I like it." She tries to assure you that it's fine calling her by her old nickname. You mumbled quietly to yourself. 'Well, if that's what she says, you might just go with it then.'
She then asks you the things that bring back a lot of memories between the two of you, in which you tried to reply to every single one of them. However, things started to go a bit awkward when she started to ask the reason why you were so distant from her in the first place.
"Oppa, could you please tell me the truth about why you have been ignoring me since back then?" She tries to get the answers from you, while you are being shy to tell her. You tried so hard not to tell her about it until she showed you her pleading look, eyes wide open like you would see Puss in Boots did in the movie 'Shrek' as well as her lips pouting. You know that this is her secret weapon when she wants something, especially from you.
At this rate, you couldn't resist her looks as you began to tell her. "A-Alright, I will tell you the reason for that. Gosh, you really have to do that, don't you Chaey." She then giggles and waits for you to tell her about it. "Hehe, works like a charm. I knew you wouldn't resist my pleading look. So, can you tell me why you are distant from me, oppa?"
To be honest, you still feel hesitant to tell her about it but you try to push the hesitation aside and try to tell her anyway. "W-Well, we were very close back then. We would do things together, I'm sure you know what we did when we were younger. I would consider you my best friend and my little sister. B-But when we grow up, I could feel my adoration towards you is more than just a friend or a sister, in fact, I have developed a crush on you. Yeah, that's right, I'm in love with you Chaey. But, I guess you deserve someone better than me, that's why I try to distance myself from you."
After you tell the reason, she just sits quietly which makes the situation become awkward between the two of you. "Chaey, you okay? If you have nothing to say, I guess I'll-." Suddenly, she pulls you into a hug and you notice she's crying because you feel something wet on your right shoulder. "Oh oppa, y-you are such a pabo. I-I also like you too oppa. I-I thought I'm the one that has a feeling towards you, but instead you also have feelings towards me. Don't you ever keep something like this from me from now on, okay oppa?"
You pulled yourself from the hug to face her and nodded. "Don't worry Chaey, I won't keep any secrets from you from now on." You look at her while she looks at you, both with full adoration. Suddenly, she leans towards you and pecks your lips. Before she could back her head from you, you grip her nape and pull her towards your lips for another kiss.
Kisses by kisses, it then turned into a make-out session. Both of your hands are roaming all around her body as well as hers all around your body. Without detaching lips from each other, you two get up from the studying table and get towards the bed.
Once you both reach the corner of the bed, you both dive into the mattress with you on top of her. You both continue kissing each other until you both retract your lips and end the make-out session when you both feel the loss of air. "Are you sure you want to continue this, Chaey?" You asked and then she replied. "Yes, I'm sure. Don't worry, I've prepared for this, daddy~."
You almost choked when you heard that word coming out of her mouth. However, your mind commands you to just follow the flow. "It looks like my little Chaey has a daddy kink, huh? Such a naughty girl for daddy, aren't you?" She just rolled her eyes teasingly and pulled you for a couple more kisses before starting to strip your clothes off of you.
She first started to pull off your shirt from your body, which you helped her with as well. Once the shirt is off, she gives you pecks, licks, and lovebites all around your torso. After that, she tries to unbuckle the belt which takes her a couple of seconds. Then, she lowers your pants and your underwear together which then shows your raging hard dick for her.
"Wow, daddy. You have a huge dick. Is it because of me, daddy?" She asks you with excitement in her tone when she sees your dick. You then nodded. "Yes, Chaey. This dick got hard because of you. Please, do what you want with it."
After getting your consent, she then holds your dick and starts to stroke it up and down. You moan softly when you feel the sensation that you got from your dick. "Ooh, your hand feels soft and smooth around my dick."
"I'm glad you like it, daddy. Now for the next part…" She then removes her hand from your dick which makes you feel a bit disappointed. Suddenly, she bends down to your dick and starts giving licks at the tip of your dick. Then, she starts pushing her mouth to your dick until your dick reaches the back of her throat. Once she's ready, she starts to give you a blowjob.
You moan soundly when she starts bobbing up and down onto your dick. The sensation from the warmth of her inner mouth, her tongue twirling around your dick is too phenomenal.
She also moans because of the sensation from your dick as well as the taste of your precum. You also wonder how she could bob the whole length of your dick without gagging.
"C-Chaey, you're doing so good. H-Have you been practicing it before?"
"Yes, I have been practicing it, daddy. But with my toys only. I'm keeping my pussy just for someone special."
You wonder who's the special person that she's talking about. "Is the special person me, Chaey?" She nods and continues bobbing her head on your dick at a faster rate.
"Mmm. Oh god! Y-You're doing so well, Chaey." You moan a bit louder than before while looking toward her. She also looks at you with an alluring gaze and a smirk to show that she's happy to know that you're pleased by her blowjob.
"O-Oh, I-I think I'm gonna cum." Isa then releases your dick from her mouth. "It's ok, daddy. Just cum in my mouth." She then re-enters your dick into her mouth and starts bobbing maniacally fast.
At this rate, you couldn't hold it any longer and started pushing the back of her head towards your crotch and started cumming inside her mouth. She tries to take all of your cum into her mouth, however, some of it drools out of her mouth and onto your dick. Once she removes her mouth from your dick, she then shows you her tongue full of your cum and then swallows it.
"You're such a naughty girl, aren't you Chaey?" She then just giggles and playfully hits you. "I'm so glad you like it, daddy. Did I do it well, daddy?" "Of course, Chaey. By the way, isn't it fair that I'm naked while you're fully clothed?"
"Hehe, my bad daddy. I want daddy to take my clothes off me. Pleasure me in any way throughout my body, ok daddy?" You just nodded, then laid her on her back. You start to give some lovebites all around her neck and she moans from it.
Once you reach her clothed tits, you cup both of them and you then realize that she didn't wear a bra at all. "Well, I guess you've really prepared for this, huh? You naughty Chaey~" She then blushes and tries to defend herself. "N-No daddy. I really didn't expect this to happen. I didn't wear it at home because it's more comfortable."
You then try to pull her crop top off of her body. Once her crop top is taken off her body, she then tries to cover her tits with her arms. "I-I'm sorry daddy. My tits are not as big as you hope. I don't want to disappoint you, daddy."
You remove her arms from her tits but she's still resisting moving them. "It's ok Chaey. Your tits are just big enough for me." After hearing that, she then just let you remove her arms.
Long and behold, her tits dangling in front of you, just big enough for your liking. After admiring her tits for a while, you then lean down towards her tits and latch your mouth to one of the mounds while you grope the other mound with your right hand.
She moans very loudly when you start sucking and groping her tits. "Mmm, d-daddy… Keep playing with my tits, daddy." With that, you take turns sucking her tits and cupping her tits. Meanwhile, your other hand slithers down towards her crotch, going through her pants and panties to reach her wet pussy.
You rub your hand on her pussy several times before plunging two fingers into her pussy. This causes her to moan intensely and forces you to stop whatever you're doing to her. "D-Daddy, I'm ready. Please insert your giant dick inside my pussy, daddy. I can't handle it anymore."
You then hold the hem of her pants and pull down her pants and panties off of her at once. You give your dick a couple more strokes before lining your dick towards the entrance of her pussy. "Are you sure you're ready for this Chaey?" You asked her, to which she nodded.
After having her consent, you enter your dick into her pussy slowly. You grunt a bit because of the tightness of her pussy while Isa moans in pain because she couldn't adapt to your size. "D-Daddy, it hurts."
"It's ok Chaey. Daddy will move slowly."
You then thrust your dick in and out slowly first to give her some time to adapt to your size. "I-I think I'm ready. Thrust your dick a bit faster daddy." She assures you that she can handle the size of your dick. Thus, you then thrust faster which makes both of you moan intensely.
"G-Gosh, your pussy is very tight and warm, Chaey. I love it around my dick so much." To be honest, you almost cum on the spot when you first insert your dick into her pussy. "Mmm, your dick so good inside of me. It's so big. I can feel it touching my core."
Suddenly, she moans loudly when your dick touches somewhere in her pussy. "Mmmh… Keep hitting that part, daddy. It feels so good!" That's when you realize that you hit her g-spot. With that, you thrust your dick hitting her g-spot multiple times which makes her moan uncontrollably.
"Mmmh, daddy. You make me feel so good~. Keep going daddy, make your Chaey feel relieved." Your thrust went faster and faster every minute after she said that. Thrust by thrust, you two moan intensely until you feel some knot forming at your crotch.
"C-Chaey, I don't think I can hold it much longer." You warn her that you will about to cum. "M-Me too, daddy. F-Fill me up with your cum, daddy. Don't you wanna fill your naughty Chaey with your cum, daddy?"
You were shocked when she told you about that. "A-Are you sure Chaey? I-I don't want you to get pregnant." She then nodded and said that it was fine to do so. "I'm pretty, pretty sure about this. I'm safe right now. So please, FILL ME UP DADDY~"
"W–WELL, HERE IT COMES, CHAEY!"
"DADDY!!~"
Your cum spurts into her pussy like a jet while she squirts all over your crotch. "Mmmh, so warm…" She moans because your cum went inside her.
Once you feel that you're softened and not releasing cum anymore, you pull it out from her used to be a virgin hole and see your combined cums leaking out from it.
"Well, that was intense. By the way, are you really safe?" You asked her again for confirmation. "Yes, oppa. It's my safe week. In fact, I also took some birth control pills for a couple of weeks." She confirms it. You just sigh because of that.
"Hmm, I guess you did prepare for this. You naughty Chaey. So, I guess today's our first day as a couple then?" She just giggles and hugs you closer. "Hehe, I'm your naughty girlfriend Chaey then. So please take good care of me from now on. Don't you ever keep any secrets from me, ok oppa?"
After that, she yawns and starts to sleep in your embrace. You hug her tight in your embrace while watching her with full adoration and then kiss her forehead.
"Don't worry Chaey. I will always let you know that I'll be by your side every single time from now on. I love you, my Chaey." You mumbled to yourself before joining her in the sleep world.
P/s: This is my first time writing. Actually, I wanna post this earlier but since I’m new with this shit, it takes a longer period for me to post it. Hope the ones who read this would like it.
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Off the Record (Pedro Pascal x OFC)
Word count: 4,560 words
Rating: Explicit (18+ only)
Content warnings: Daddy kink (not ddlg; she just calls him daddy a lot), oral sex (m receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, (slightly) rough sex, sweet sex, Big Dick Pedro, Soft Dom Pedro, alcohol, lingerie, a little bit of slapping, dirty talk, a hint of sugar daddy vibes
Summary: Rae is an entertainment reporter who has developed a playfully flirtatious professional relationship with Pedro over the years. Totally professional. Until he invites her to hang out in his hotel room one night after an event—strictly off the record.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and written just for fun. If RPF makes you uncomfortable, please do not continue with this post.
The convention is so crowded that it feels like an act of fate when Rae steps out for some fresh air and happens upon Pedro, alone behind one of the side buildings. He’s smoking a cigarette and he gives her a playful, guilty grimace when he spots her, gesturing with a flick of ash.
“You caught me,” he says.
“You’re such a bad boy,” she teases.
He laughs.
“Aren’t you cold?” he asks. He’s looking her up and down and she sees his eyes linger on her bare legs before drifting their way up the rest of her body. The attention makes her stand a little straighter.
She’s used to California weather. This is a rare travel assignment and she hadn’t packed well for the climate.
“Fucking freezing. But that’s the cost of beauty,” she adds loftily, like she’s done it on purpose.
He raises an eyebrow, amused. “Well, it’s paying off,” he says. “You look gorgeous.”
She gives him an appreciative smile. “It’s too bad you didn’t put any effort in; we could’ve looked good together.”
It’s a joke. He’s wearing a cozy, well-fitted cashmere sweater and designer trousers, with a one-inch heeled suede boot. His dark hair is styled at the perfect in-between point of messy and coiffed, with well-defined curls that you could still run your fingers through.
Not that she’s fighting back the urge to touch him. That would be unprofessional.
He’s playing along with the joke, narrowing his eyes at her and shaking his head, ruefully. “You’re always fucking showing me up.”
Her phone vibrates and she glances at it. It’s a text from her producer, giving her a 15-minute warning for their next interview.
“Three more hours,” she sighs. “And then I’m going to go back to the Fairmont and climb under all the covers and stuff myself with room service.”
“I’m at the Fairmont, too,” he tells her. “Don’t order the crab cakes—they’re dry.”
“You should invite me over to hang out,” she says. “I can help you raid the minibar on Disney’s dime.”
He takes a drag on his cigarette and blows the smoke out of the corner of his mouth, away from her, considering it. “What’s your poison?”
“That depends,” she muses. “If you want me to stay good, I like vodka. Tequila? My clothes come right off.”
He barks out a laugh, slowly shaking his head. “Well, I’m in…” He digs in his pocket, pulling out a slim wallet and rifling for his hotel key card to find the room number. “Room 512, if you want to stop by. We can call down for salt and limes.”
It makes her heart beat a little faster, that he’s taken this past harmless flirtation and turned it into… This was an invitation, wasn’t it? Rae schools her expression, trying to remain playfully aloof.
“Maybe I’ll see you later, then,” she says, and gives him a wink as she turns to go back inside.
He opens the door on her second knock. The room is nicer than hers—it’s a king suite with a huge tub that she spots through the open bathroom door as she steps inside—and he hasn’t been in town long enough to make it very messy. The lighting is muted, just a couple of table lamps on in the corners and a golden sheen from the setting sun filtering through his open curtains. He’s kept on the nice sweater, but changed his trousers for a pair of dark, comfy-looking sweatpants, and abandoned the shoes in favor of bare feet.
Rae slips off her flats by the door, making herself at home.
“I thought you might stand me up,” he observes.
“Of course not,” she says. “It’s not like I can afford to break into my own minibar. I needed to get to yours.”
Pedro clicks his tongue, mock-hurt. “You’re using me. You know, Meryl Streep warned me about this. She said the more famous you get, the less you know who you can trust.”
He’s joking around, she knows, playing off of her comment and name-dropping the most absurd famous person he’s acquainted with just to make her laugh. But the sentiment still makes her feel a little sad, and it probably comes out too earnest when she tells him, “You can trust me.”
He looks at her and gives her a quiet smile. “Yeah, I know.”
There’s a plate of lime wedges and a shaker of salt already sitting on the counter with a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses. She raises an eyebrow, delighted he’s chosen her favorite vice.
“I warned you about the tequila,” she reminds him.
He makes a face, dismissive. “You don’t scare me.”
She waggles her eyebrows, like, maybe you should be scared, but he just shakes his head, amused, and pours them each a generous shot.
“Salud,” he says, clinking his glass to hers.
They don’t go overboard. A 7:00 AM wake-up in this time zone will be 4:00 AM as far as her west coast-attuned body is concerned, and she likes her job too much to sabotage it by getting seriously drunk the night before a long work day. But with two or three shots apiece, they make it through a few of the tiny, overpriced bottles, and they each have a pleasant, relaxed buzz going.
Pedro makes for good company. Off the press line and away from any cameras, inhibitions lowered by the tequila, his sense of humor comes out a little dirtier. Every time one of his jokes lands, sending her into a fit of laughter, he grins, looking pleased with himself. Not for the first time, she finds herself thinking that it’s almost maddening how charming and charismatic he is.
“You know,” Rae tells him, “A lot of fangirls out there would pay good money to take a shot with you. I’ll never be able to tell anyone about this because they’d rip me apart out of jealousy.”
“Oh please,” he teases. “Don’t pretend like you’re not right there with them, getting all hot over the Mandalorian every week.”
Her jaw drops, but she swiftly recovers. “Actually, I belong to the camp that believes Din Djarin is a virgin. I don’t think he’s probably even that good in bed.”
He’s offended. He goes from a lazy sprawl to sitting upright, just like that. “Excuse me?”
She raises an eyebrow. “Do you have a take on this? It’d be an amazing scoop if I could get a quote from you.”
“Hey,” he says warningly. “This evening is strictly off the record.”
“Of course,” she agrees. He holds up his hand, pinky extended, and she scoots closer on the couch and hooks her pinky around his, promising. “So?”
“Din Djarin is not a virgin,” he says decisively. His tone says he thinks the mere concept is ridiculous.
“Well, who has he had sex with?” she challenges him.
He counts off on his fingers. “He fucked that twi’lek girl with the knives—”
“Xi’an,” she supplies.
“Of course you remember her name,” he laughs, but not unkindly. They both know she’s nerdier about Star Wars lore than he is. He ticks off the next finger. “He fucked Omera. He obviously fucked Cobb Vanth, if you can’t see that you’re blind.”
He has to raise his voice to be heard over her laughter. He’s holding back his amusement, too.
“I can’t believe you’re questioning Mando’s sex life when you’re the one calling him a daddy all the time.”
“Uh uh,” she corrects him. “I think you’re a daddy.”
Over the course of the conversation she’d continued to unconsciously slide closer to him, and now as he watches her in amused contemplation, they suddenly feel very close. The realization of it, in the silence following her overtly flirtatious statement, makes her smile fall and her pulse pick up. She looks down, taking a breath, and when she glances up he’s still looking at her face. His voice has turned husky when he speaks again.
“Can I kiss you?”
She bites her lip, trying to stay cool, and nods. He leans in closer, lightly gripping her chin under his thumb.
“Yes?” he checks.
“Yes,” she says breathlessly.
His lips are soft, and dry, and a little tangy from the salt and lime they’ve both been consuming. He slips his tongue lightly over her bottom lip, adding a little glide to the kiss. She follows his lead, melting into him and feeling flushed. He’s cupping her face, and the firm press of his hand on her cheek is simultaneously grounding and makes her feel like she’s caught up in a dream.
“Can I—” she starts. She curls her fingers, closing around nothing. His eyes are dark, watching her patiently. “Can I touch you?”
“Yes,” he murmurs. He takes her hand in his and guides it to rest on his upper thigh, close enough the permission is clear—not so close that he’s making her move too fast.
He kisses her again, and she closes her eyes and lets herself follow her instincts. Her fingers inch higher on his lap until she feels his bulge, stiffening under the soft fabric. She runs her fingers along him and his breath hitches. She squeezes, lightly, and he grunts, shifting his hips up into her touch.
“Can I—” she starts again. He cuts her off, answering against her skin as he works his mouth down the length of her neck, telling her, “Yes,” before she can finish the question. “Yes.”
So she makes her way to the edge of the couch and sinks onto her knees on the floor, pushing his legs open to settle between them. He’s looking down at her there, looking turned on, looking like he likes what he sees—but when she reaches for him he stops her, grabbing her wrists in one hand.
“Wait,” he says. His voice is lust-rough. With his other hand, he picks at the fabric of her top. “Take these off first.”
She bites her lip, feeling a rush of arousal pulse through her to pool between her legs. She misses his grip when he lets go of her wrists, but she stands obediently and strips off her clothes, until she’s down to just her underwear. Pedro’s mouth falls open, taking her in. Focusing in on the matching bra and panties.
“You brought this for a work trip?” he asks, sounding awed.
Maybe she hadn’t done such a bad job of packing her suitcase, after all.
“I just… like lingerie. I like to wear it under my regular clothes,” she tells him. “It makes me feel sexy.”
She does a slow turn, letting him see the cheeky cut of her panties.
He looks a little dazed. “It’s very sexy.”
His gaze follows her breasts, perched filling out the lacy, balconette cups of her bra, as she kneels before him again. This time he doesn’t stop her when she reaches forward, brushing her hands over his growing bulge as she grasps his waistband and tugs it down to unveil him to her.
She was certain it would be big, but the sight of his cock still makes her mouth drop open and her eyes widen as she takes it in. Her hands look small, touching him, wrapping around his length. She feels that rush again, pussy going wet and her mouth watering for him. She licks her lips, purses them tight, and leans in to slide her mouth open around the tip of his cock.
He swears.
She sinks her hot mouth onto him, sucking him off and savoring it, her saliva mixing with the mild salt-tang spurts of his pre-come spilling onto her tongue. She slides her hands down to the base of his cock where she can’t reach her mouth, slicking him up and working over his length in firm strokes.
Rae pulls back for a moment, wanting to watch his face while she jerks him off. She has one hand wrapped around his shaft and she reaches the other down to massage over his balls. His eyes are heavy-lidded, watching her, and his breath is unsteady, hips twitching like he wants to thrust hard into her heat. He grabs the back of her head with one large hand, tugging her forward just gently, telling her without words that he wants her mouth back on him. When she doesn’t take him in immediately, he taps his cock lightly against her cheek, nudging at the corner of her mouth.
Her eyes flutter closed. “You can be rough with me,” she tells him. “I like it.”
“You like it?” he repeats. There’s a pause, as she meets his hot gaze and silently nods. “Then take it.”
Pedro’s grip is tight on the back of her neck as he forces his cock past the seam of her lips. He fills her mouth, hitting against her throat, and she moans, focusing on avoiding him with her teeth and distracted by the way her clit throbs from the rough treatment. Her body is rocking, legs pressed tight together, head bobbing on his dick, all her senses overwhelmed by the taste and smell and sound of him—by his soft stomach where she’s braced one hand, tucked under his shirt, and the ache in her jaw and her vision blurring with unshed tears from taking him too far and starting to choke.
He pulls her off, to let her get her breath back, and squeezes his fingers around the base of his dick, steadying himself as she runs the back of her hand over her wet mouth, wiping away the drool that’s gone running down her chin.
“Come here,” he says, gentle again. He pulls her into his lap, straddling his legs, and kisses her softly at the corners of her mouth, soothing over her swollen lips.
He runs his thumbs delicately along the tops of her bra cups, feeling the lace bordering her soft skin, then smooths his hands down her sides to her hips. He looks up, watching her face as he slides one hand over the thin fabric of her panties, but his controlled expression changes as much as hers does when he touches her and feels the arousal soaking through.
“You got that wet for me?” he rasps. “From sucking my cock?”
She nods slowly, feeling exposed and shivery under his gaze, turned on even more by hearing those words in his deep voice.
“I told you I liked it,” she whispers.
His jaw clenches. He slips his fingers under the fabric, teasing over her skin, feeling along her folds—watching her gasp when he finds her clit. Then he pinches it, hard enough to make her cry out and buck her hips in his lap, and her breath comes out unsteady when he lets go.
“Rae,” he says. “Go get in my bed.”
The command sends a wave of calm through her system. She takes a deep breath. “Yes, daddy,” she murmurs, and climbs carefully off of his lap.
In the bedroom, she follows his instruction, stripping off her lingerie and tossing it aside before climbing onto the plush bed. She leans back on her elbows, legs demurely crossed at the ankles, and watches him pull his sweater over his head, revealing his softly toned body and broad shoulders. Then he shoves the sweatpants off his hips, stepping out of them where they pool at his feet, and her gaze is drawn back to his cock, bobbing enticingly between his legs. Her eyes glaze over, hypnotized with want.
He kneels onto the bed, reaching to uncross her ankles and make space between her legs. His eyes rake over her, drinking her in, absently biting his bottom lip as he lingers on her pussy. Then he makes his way up, straddling her thigh, one knee by her hip and the other just below her cunt, not quite close enough for her to grind against his leg like she thinks she might like to try. He kneels over her like that, leaning forward to brace one hand next to her shoulder, and caresses her face with the other, running his fingers lightly over her cheekbone. She melts under him, meeting his dark eyes, taking in his handsome face and his lush lips and thinking maybe he’ll kiss her again.
Pedro slaps her face, just hard enough to send a jolt through her, making her gasp. Her eyes snap back to his, pulse racing.
“Tell me what you want,” he demands, voice gone husky.
“I—I want your cock,” she moans.
“Tell me,” he says. “Say it again.”
“Please,” she begs, “I want your big fucking fat cock, daddy.”
He laughs, a low, dirty chuckle. “Where do you want it, baby?”
Her face is flushed; her whole body is on fire, all hot and needy for him. “In my pussy.”
“Yeah?” He rubs his hand over her mound, warm on the smooth-shaven skin, then feels down into her slick folds where she’s soaking wet. “Your pretty little pussy? You think she can take it?”
“Yes,” she whines. He pushes three thick fingers inside her, making her cry out and tilt her hips up, greedy for it. His knees are spread wide to balance himself and hold her legs pushed open with his own. When she writhes under him he sets his weight down harder, pinning her.
With his free hand, he slaps her tit. The sting makes her yelp and her cunt clenches tight around his fingers. He twists and pulls them free, then thrusts inside her again, working in and out until she feels like she can’t form a full thought, head all empty but for the sound of her moans and his hot, heavy breath, and the fast, dirty squelching sound her pussy makes as he fucks her hard.
When he pulls his hand away she can see her slick coating his fingers, shining wet in the dim lamplight. He falls forward so that he’s hovering directly over her and feeds his fingers into her mouth, making her taste her own arousal. Her eyes flutter closed as she sucks them clean.
“Dirty girl,” he murmurs. He pulls his fingers gently out and lowers his face to hers instead, giving her a deep kiss to chase the taste of her with his tongue.
He grinds his hard cock into her hip and eventually pulls out of the kiss, murmuring against her mouth, “I have to grab a condom.” He brushes his thumb over her mouth as he pulls away, tender. “You still good?”
“Mmm,” she breathes. “So good.”
He rifles in his travel bag, unzipping a small pouch and retrieving a condom packet. When he returns to the bed, he runs his hand along her thigh and then slaps her flank. “Get on your knees.”
She rolls over, pushing up onto her knees, and braces her forearms on the bed, arching her back. It feels primal, presenting her cunt like this for him to take, and behind her he growls with want.
She feels the head of his cock press blunt and thick at her entrance, and he starts working his length into her in shallow, prodding thrusts, a little deeper each time. He starts slow—he has to, she’s so fucking tight around him, and it’s only because she’s so turned on that the stretch isn’t too much to take. Gradually, he pushes his cock into her hot, slick center, and it leaves her gasping for air, like he’s fucking all the way up into her lungs.
“Christ,” he groans. His voice has gone impossibly deeper. “You feel so fucking good, baby. How does that feel?”
She tries to speak and it comes out a strangled moan, incomprehensible.
He withdraws a little, fighting against the grip of her pussy trying to keep him inside. His hands are strong on her hips, holding her in place.
“Tell me,” he commands. He thrusts in again as she opens her mouth, and she cries out.
“Tell me, baby. Tell me how this cock feels in your sweet—little—pussy—” He emphasizes each word with a deep thrust. She feels lightheaded from it, but it’s like it breaks something inside her and her tongue finally works again, babbling needy words at him.
“It’s so good, fuck, it feels so good, daddy,” she moans. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me—” The friction is easier now, with her body opening up to take him, and he’s moving faster. She’s gripping desperately into the bedsheets above her head, moving with the push-pull rhythm of his sex, and she’s starting to feel almost high from it, a little spaced out on the sensation of his dick driving into her.
He leans forward, draping hot over her back, and it shifts the angle of his thrusts, so that he’s suddenly hitting a spot that makes her see stars.
“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit—” He probably can’t make out the words; her voice is muffled in the sheets. Her body is trembling, on that pre-orgasmic high, pure pleasure running through her with every stroke of his huge dick. She wishes she could stay suspended like this forever, in this luxurious bed being fucked by this perfect cock, balancing right on the cusp of ecstasy.
When she comes, she collapses flat onto her belly, shattered, and he follows her down, pinning her to the bed and continuing to fuck her just as hard. She cries out, the sounds of her orgasm tearing out of her throat and ringing in her ears as her pussy pulses and flutters around him. Finally, he slows and pulls out of her, and the sudden emptiness feels too big, like he’s left her hollowed out in the tender space of her cunt. He turns her over, onto her back, and braces over her, eyes focused on her face when he slides his dick back inside and fills her in again. She whimpers, needy and overwhelmed, feeling every long, slow inch of his cock dragging through her.
He kisses her, languid tongue matching his steady thrusts. It’s intimate in a way Rae’s not sure she’s earned the right to be with him. But it doesn’t surprise her, learning he’s sweet like this. He’s always looked at her like he wants the eye contact, like he wants to be close, like he thrives on connection. She’s always seen him act kindly to everyone in the room, and it only follows that when you’re the only one in the room with him, he’d devote himself to you and take his time.
She wants to make him feel good. To see him lose control and let go. She squeezes her cunt around him, experimentally, and he breaks their kiss to exhale a gasping breath, rhythm faltering.
“Fuck,” he breathes, mouth on her chin. “Do that again.”
She clenches again, running her hands down his body, teasing at him with her long nails and feeling him tremble. “You feel so good, daddy,” she whispers. “Your cock is so big, I don’t—fuck!” she exclaims, when his pace picks up and he rams into her, harder. “I don’t know how you even fucking fit inside me, your big—fuck—fucking cock—shit—”
He’s panting, making ragged, desperate sounds, pushing up into her like he can bury himself even deeper. Teeth sharp, biting at her jaw. She’s not even thinking about the words spilling out of her, just lets every filthy thought slip free, riling him up. “Fuck me, daddy, fuck—you’re fucking splitting me in half—I want you to come inside me—fill me up—I want it, I want it, I want it—”
He groans, hiding his face in her neck, stiffening and releasing inside of her. She wishes, insanely, that he had fucked her bareback so she could feel it coating her pussy, dripping out after. She would have let him if he wanted to, she thinks, and it’s a terrible thing to realize about herself.
It doesn’t stop her from holding him in place before he can pull out, keeping him deep inside her cunt, and rubbing at her swollen clit until she comes on his dick one last time, savoring the orgasm and the rumbling sound of his groans in her ears.
He doesn’t try to kick her out after��in fact, he orders a slice of caramel cheesecake from the room service menu and asks if Rae wants something, too—but in the end, she reluctantly says that she should go.
“I have to be up early to interview that kid from the new Marvel movie,” she sighs.
Pedro laughs, unsympathetic. “Oh, your life is so hard.”
“Yeah, harder now,” she complains. “I’m gonna be walking funny on the press line tomorrow.”
He bites back a laugh, but then furrows his brow in concern. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”
She hums, giving her nude, exhausted body an experimental stretch. “That was the biggest dick I’ve ever taken,” she tells him. “And… it was the best.”
He relaxes again, looking like he’s not trying very hard to hide a satisfied smirk.
“Don’t let it go to your head or anything.”
“Oh,” he says, shaking his head dismissively, “Way too late for that, sweetheart.”
When she sees him again they’re back in LA, at a premiere for his new indie film. He greets her with a familiar, professional smile, but she can see the change in how he looks at her now, the new, interested sparkle in his eyes and how he lingers on her longer. He gives her a tight hug goodbye, murmuring, “Bye, baby,” too quiet for the mic to pick up, and she slips a folded note into his hand as she pulls away.
I had to buy a bigger toy—you’ve ruined me. Asshole.
She hears his dirty, delighted cackle and she fights to school her face, tamping down the light, giddy feeling in her chest as she turns her focus to the next guest on the press line.
She’s not sure how he got her home address. It probably wasn’t that hard, she supposes, to have his agent contact her company and sweet talk it out of them with the promise of exclusive promo material, or something of that kind. It’s probably not worth questioning how one of the biggest rising stars on the planet can get something he wants. In any event, she’s grateful he did, because she might have received this package in the middle of the office, otherwise, and that would have been more than a little embarrassing.
He’s got her size right. She wonders if he’d snuck a peek at the tags before she put her underwear back on—if he was already planning this even then. The thought of it makes her feel—something. She’s not sure what it makes her feel. She’s walking a tightrope between a dangerous mistake and total euphoria and it’s all she can do to keep her balance, because she can’t risk taking a misstep.
The set is from a luxury brand so expensive she would never buy it for herself. It’s an ethereal blend of ribbon and tulle, the thong nothing more than a scrap of beautiful fabric, and she knows it will have cost him several hundred dollars.
There’s a gift note, sitting on top of the tissue paper-wrapped goods.
A ‘sorry for ruining you’ gift. So you can feel sexy at the season 3 premiere. Show me after, if you want.
-P
Her stomach swoops, as she tries not to fall.
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal x ofc#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal rpf
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