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nichuuu · 3 months

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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

#jang wonyoung #wonyoung smut #ive smut #ive wonyoung #kpop #fanfic #writing #smut #nichuuu #ansgt

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hemmingsleclerc · 3 months

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Interview┃Charles Leclerc

summary: Where Charles doesn't realize his little daughter is being interviewed

Reaction pt2

It was a hot weekend at the iconic Monaco Grand Prix and Charles had a special companion this time: his adorable daughter, Emma Jules, and the rest of his family.

Charles, focused on his pre-race routine, was preparing in the Ferrari garage. Emma, a cheerful six-year-old with an infectious smile, was exploring the garage with wide eyes. As her father put on his racing suit and helmet, she walked over and reached out with her little hand to touch the sleek red car.

Unbeknownst to Charles, an inconspicuous figure with camera equipment was making his way through the paddock. He was none other than the cameraman for Netflix's "Drive to Survive", capturing behind-the-scenes moments from the world of F1 for the iconic series. Emma, with her innocent curiosity, caught the cameraman's attention.

"Hey there, little leclerc! Are you excited for the race?" the cameraman asked with a friendly smile.

Emma's eyes lit up, and she nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Daddy is going to win because he's the best."

The cameraman, taking the opportunity for an adorable interview, handed Emma a small microphone and turned on the camera. "Tell us more about your dad. What is he like off the track?"

With the innocence of a child, Emma began to spill the beans. "My daddy is the best here. Sometimes he sings very loud in the car or in the shower. But you know what? He's not very good at it!" She giggled, her laughter echoing through the paddock.

"He likes to dance while he's cooking with mommy," Emma continued, twirling around to demonstrate. "And he snores really loud when he's asleep. It's funny!"

''He also cries a lot at Disney or animal movies, or is more interested in playing with my toys than I am. Sometimes we tell mommy that we are going to grand-mére's house but in reality he takes me to buy new dolls or ice cream. He also likes to help me make friendship bracelets for my friend and also lets me do his hair and makeup with my princess makeup set that santa gave me for Christmas, he always says that he looks very cute.''

As Emma shared these lovely details, the camaraman captured every moment while letting out a few laughs at the things the little girl was saying. Charles, completely absorbed in his pre-race preparations, was unaware of the impromptu interview taking place just a few feet away.

Emma's charming revelations about her father's quirks added a charming touch to his coverage.

Charles may not have known it that day, but he was sure that when the new season of the series came out, that moment would be the most popular.

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jinkiezzsstuff · 2 months

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LAYING NEXT TO ADAM IN HIS HOSPITAL BED AFTER EP 8 AND NOT BEING ABLE TO SLEEP SO JUST PLAYING WITH HIS HAIR??

LOVE YOU LOTS, FEEL FREE TO SKIP THIS IF YOU WANT 💗💗💗

yesssssssssss i love this it’s so cute, i did it a lil short sweet and lovelyyyyy sorry it took awhile but i hope you enjoy it!

warnings: none really, descriptions of injuries, swearing and that’s about it, short drabble! gn reader w no psychical description, a little bit of a weird ending? didn’t know how to tie it off

You and Adam have always had an odd relationship, you would have moments of really open closeness followed by acting like it never happened. You were comfortable with this because the idea of anything more serious scared you, it wasn’t like heaven was keen on hookups or lust, which meant any relationship led to marriage. So you would ignore your desires and longing, and instead focus on working alongside him.

Adam was of the same mind, he couldn’t hook up with you because it felt wrong to use you like some sinner when he actually liked you. You were always there to listen, telling him that he had every right to hate Lucifer for taking his wives; which he knew but always needed to hear from others, just to reaffirm. Of course he was too afraid to start anything serious with you when the furthest he got was some open communication and occasional dirty jokes shared between you two. There wasn’t any room for him to have a third heartbreak especially when he was now in closer proximity with the devil himself.

That’s why it was a shock when he watched you decend from above spear in hand, wings fluttering lusciously around you. You came back for him, you saw Lucifer and chose to protect him. As you sat alongside him keeping him alive while you could, Lucifer attempted to coax you on his end. “Can’t you see the things he’s done? He’s the devil.” Lucifer boomed holding his daughter. “Cmon we have a good cause here!” - “Saving him means killing others, that’s not very angelic on you.” - “The first man only uses women to fuel his ego and get him off, cocksleaves he uses and forgets. How’s it feel to be that silly little strumpet?”

No matter the harsh line the devil hissed out at you as you tearfully held Adam’s wound, using all the magic you had to keep him alive, and ignoring the taunts and tempts Lucifer spoke. Thankfully what felt like eternity ended, and now you sat alongside the man himself, staring at his paled face. You’d never seen Adam’s face before, Lute wasn’t as strict you’d seen her plenty, but Adam was always skeptical of letting you see him.

You never knew about the exterminations, and although you weren’t entirely pleased he lied, and killed, you justified it by reminding yourself of all the rapist, murders and weird child diddlers that he wiped out of existence. Staring at the side of Adam’s face you admired the ride burns that climbed down his face and the little patch of hair that accentuated his chin.

Leaning onto the bed, you softly and timidly brought your hand up to his cheek, enjoying the feeling of his skin against your hand. Gently you caressed his face, trailing all around and up to his hair. You carefully brushed your fingers through his spiked and messy hair, scratching his scalp gently as you did.

A sigh of content escaped you as you began to play with his hair, twirling it and brushing it back away from his pretty face. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you died, dumbass. I would’ve regret so much, but now that you’re here and okay I’m just as afraid to say.” You whispered to him quietly, watching his face as his muscle naturally moved and spasmed every once and awhile. He had been out a few days now, a medically induced coma until he healed internally, which was the hardest thing to witness.

Everyday you came and spent some time here with Lute, then Lute would leave and you would stay keeping him company. Sliding up on the bed with him, you situated yourself beside him, your wings curling around him like a safety blanket, head rested on his chest. You cradled his head continually toying with his hair while you gazed off into space, eyes watering as you did so.

You woke up to the doctor entering the room, scolding you for impeding on the patients space, and then happily explained the next plan of action. He was going to be weened off the medication and would hopefully be awake within the week then it was normal wound care from there.

The pattern for the week didn’t change, accept you found yourself enamoured with his hair and face in general, who could blame you, you’ve only seen it now after all these years. You waited everyday to see his eyes flutter open, pinning over the multitude of fantasies you had in your head when he did so. However it was as magical when the day came.

You had his wing over your lap one Saturday, humming a tune stuck in your head as you carefully preened his feathers. Some were still covered in char from the day, leaving a weird nostalgic feeling within you, but not the good kind.

You glanced over at him as his leg twitched violently, his wings puffing along with it. You watched his eyelids flutter just barely, his eyes moving rapidly behind them. Careful not to disturb him, you dragged your fingers through his hair, this time however, Adam’s skin prickled with goosebumps and his body twitched. “Adam?” You whispered, hope evident in your voice as you leaned in closer, investigating his facial expressions.

Adam shifted more at your voice his golden irises finally opening to meet your own. Your stomach lurched at the sight, tears gathering as you got overwhelmed by joy. “Holy fuck Adam!” You cried keeling over into his chest with a sob. Adam still lost, didn’t know what to do, and quite honestly couldn’t fully register who you were to him at the moment. After a second you pulled away gripping his cheeks softly between your hands, Adam looked at you eyes tired feeling sleepless. Finally it clicked, and the heart monitor kicked up with his beats, he nearly died.

“What the fuck?” Adam muttered confused, his voice hoarse and grainy from the lack of use. Tears continued to fall from your eyes as Adam cleared his throat, his own eyes manically hopping from object to object around the room. “You’re one dumb motherfucker yknow that? Fighting Lucifer!? God,” You shook his head gently to emphasize your anger with his decision. Adam only grinned lazily up at you with lidded eyes, his heart rate increasing as he did so.

“Woah, am i in heaven? Because you’re an angel.” Adam slurred out smirking smugly as he did. You gaped at him, he only giggle jubilantly his arms raising slowly to slowly pull you into a hug. You met his movements and fell into his hug with ease mind still trying to comprehend everything. “God you’re an idiot you know that?” You mumbled into his flesh, pushing yourself further into his chubby peck. “Yea babe but that’s why you love me.”

You let out a noise between a scoff and a chuckle before agreeing. “Very true, not even the devil could change that.” Adam tensed at the mention of Lucifer, but his brain tracked back to the day of thee extermination where you decended into hell just for him, to save him. Adam remembered all the things Lucifer was slinging at you, the snake was really trying his hardest to make you fall. “What’d you think of Lucifer?” Adam dared to ask, all the groggy wooze leaving him, focusing all his energy on you agaisnt him. “Nothing special, i was too busy tryna save you.”

Adam’s heart fluttered as did his wings, puffing out and subtly jittering happily. Pulling your head up from his chest you looked down at him positioning yourself over his lips. Adam thought he may have been kidding himself, still in his coma dreaming all this up. “Alright dickhead, i’m going to kiss you, then we’re gonna get the doctor in here and get your ass home, and you’re going to tell me why the hell you kept all that extermination shit from me.” You grit out strictly, a smile on your face as you did. He always secretly found it hot when you tried bossing him around, it stroked his ego when he could talk back to you and get into little competition for dominance and control.

However, Adam really didn’t feel like fighting, nor missing the option for a kiss, so with a smug smirk he puckered his lips and closed his eyes, almost expecting you not to actually kiss him. You smashed your lips against his, flattening his puckered lips and making him gasp with shock. Adam didn’t waste time to recover, messily mashing his tongue into your mouth, sighing at the feeling of you on his tongue. After a few moments of intertwined bliss you pulled away with a warm smile. “You really wanna fuck around with the original dick?” Adam urged a cocky look in his eye, but a part of you knew this was just his way of confirming you wanted him. “Yes i do, i have no clue why the others left for Lucifer when they had you. After all, without a nose, what supposed to bump your clit during head?” Adam sat up with excitedly, wincing at the pain. “Right?!” The exclamation made you grin, and with a pat on the chest you stood, ready to grab the doctor.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oneshots #hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam hazbin hotel #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel smut

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desi2go · 2 months

Text

Humming

pairing: dad!Han x mother!reader

Warnings: fluff

Jisung was a man with a bubbly character who brings everyone to laugh within seconds. It was his superpower. Everywhere he goes, the people are happier because of his aura.

When you first met him, the kind and funny side attracted you and you got fond of it really fast. But after getting together, you didn't fear the other side of him. With his anxieties and insecurities. It belongs to him just like the sunny side.

Compared to him, you were rather cold or serious towards strangers. Maybe that's why you were so attracted to him. Differences attract each other, you had heard.

Your daughter Yuna was an exact copy of him. You couldn't deny that he was the father of your child. She was such an angel.

After giving birth, the hospital was filled with his and your family the day after to see the little one. Everyone wanted to hold your bundle of joy. Even all the other members of Stray Kids came to see the newest addition to the family. Chan and Felix were the first one to hold her.

Even though Jisung trusted them with his life, he always stood by her side to catch her if someone would drop her.

She was so tiny due to you going into labour just a week before the eight month of pregnancy. Seeing how fragile she was, the protectiveness was there the moment her cries filled the delivery room.

He promised to protect his precious girl with his live and wanted to be the best father for her.

After a week in the hospital to make sure that everything with you and Yuna was fine, he stepped through the door of your shared apartment for the first time as a dad. Your hospital bag over his back that he insisted to carry so that you didn't need to carry that heavy thing and in his arms his little angel.

Even though she was deep asleep, he did a room tour with her, rambling and explaining nearly everything to her.

He sat hours in her room, watching her sleep. He couldn't express how grateful he was to have the little girl and even now he can't believe that he was actually a father.

When she got older and the newborn stage was over, he still sat in her room, observing her after he had read her a book.

Often he would flip through the photos that mostly he took through her short life.

There were photos that Hyunjin made. They were beautiful and showed you three as a happy family. Some were just the little girl in her favourite baby blanket and her plushie, just some weeks after birth.

You had wrapped Yuna in a sweet quokka onesie that you had found online. Hyunjin laid her into a small basket with fluffy blankets and gave her a quokka plushie that she held in her tiny hands.

How the time flew by as a father of a baby.

Yuna was now a year old. Her birthday just passed and Jisung made sure that it was the best day for his baby. Even though she won't remember it when she got older.

You weren't home due to a late meeting at work so that Jisung had Yuna all for himself.

He played with her and when it was time for bed, he bathed together with her while playing with the bubbles. Her sweet and heart warming giggles filled the entire bathroom as Jisung formed with the bubbles funny beards.

He changed her diaper and dressed her in her cute tiny sleep clothes.

Currently, her teeth break through and that was painful for her which is why she has a hard time falling asleep. Jisung and you tried nearly everything to make it less painful.

Tonight, her otherwise so happy and angelic face was wearing a sad one. She whimpered and tears fell as he tried to rock her to sleep.

However it didn't work. He sat down in the rocking chair, Yuna was placed on his chest with one arm holding her securely in his embrace. She grabbed the fabric of his black shirt, whining, as he slowly rocked himself back and forth.

Then, he began humming. A song he heard during the day on social media that kept twirling in his mind.

His humming turned into singing. The syllables rolled of his tongue, filling the entire room.

His daughter stopped the whining and it seems to work. Her eyes never leave the lips of her daddy. Amazed she followed his lip movements as the melody filled the room.

A smile showed on her face.

The rocking and the vibration of Jisung's chest from his singing made her calm. The exhaustion of the day finally catching up. Tired she yawned and blinked her eyes a few times, fighting the sleep.

Her tiny hands held onto his shirt and he rubbed soothingly over her back.

It didn't took long till she was sleeping. Still, he kept rocking back and forth, singing and humming.

The door opened and you entered the room just ten minutes later still wearing your dark blue blouse and a pair of black jeans. You looked tired, dark circles under your eyes.

You gave him a exhausted smile and ruffled through his hair and gave him a peck.

"Hello there" you said and brushed over Yunas head. Her black hair smooth and fluffy.

"Hey honey. How was the meeting?"

"Boring. Just wanted to get home to you both" you chuckled. "Had she trouble getting asleep?"

He nodded and played with the fabric of Yunas sleep clothes. "Though the rocking and singing helped"

"Aww. She is already a fan of you"

"Of course she is! I'm her father. I don't except something else" A big smile plastered on his face.

He hoped that he will be the coolest father for her, someone she can look up to. Hopefully, she will be proud of him.

"Come Ji. Let's get her into bed. Mommy wants a private concert"

Gently, she took her daughter out of his grasp. Yuna fussed a little bit until she settled against her mother and was then laid into her warm bed.

You gave her a goodnight kiss and turned to your love. He gave him a kiss and led him to their bedroom. Quickly you got rid of your work clothes and dressed in one of Jisung's shirts.

He already waited for you to come into bed, opening his arms as you settled next to him. You laid your head on his chest as he brushed through your hair and started humming again, watching you fall asleep almost immediately and he followed soon.

#stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #han x reader #han jisung #skz jisung #jisung x reader #stray kids jisung #skz headcanons #stray kids

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woso-dreamzzz · 5 months

Text

Sharks III

Meadema x Child!Reader

Summary: You and Mama come back from the aquarium

"I have news!" Mummy says as you and Mama come through the door.

"So do I!" Mama replies.

You waddle in after her, holding all of your new presents.

"Sarina called me up!"

"Liefje called me Mama!"

"I've got a new shark!" You exclaim just so you can be included.

"You got called up?" Mama asks.

"She called you Mama?" Mummy asks back.

Suddenly, you're crushed between them both, kisses raining down upon your head. You soak in the affection and go limp when Mummy twirls you around.

"Mummy and Mama!" Mummy declares.

"And me!"

"And you!"

Mummy buys takeout for dinner to celebrate. You don't understand why you're celebrating (Mummy going back to England Camp and Mama being Mama isn't special) but you're happy to eat food you normally don't get to.

At the end of dinner, you end up sitting on the floor with your toy chest. Mama got you a bunch of new ones at the aquarium so you have to introduce them to your old toys.

"Viv," Beth says fondly with an eye roll," You didn't need to get her that much. You're spoiling her."

"She deserves to be spoiled," Viv says in reply," She's a very impressive little girl."

"She told you all her shark facts, didn't she? Every time I think she's run out, she comes out with more."

"It's impressive," Viv insists as they both watch you introduce your stuffies to the shark action figure you've just got," She's very smart."

"She's sensitive," Beth confesses," I think she likes sharks better than people."

Viv pulls Beth into her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to keep her close. "There's nothing wrong with that. As long as she's got friends."

"Keira and Lucy's peanut," Beth replies," Is probably her only proper friend. They get on really well. It's strange though, they're so different but they balance each other out."

"That's good. I think you worry too much, Beth. She's a great kid. You've done so well."

Beth's face goes a bit red at the praise and she interlinks their hands. "We're going to do a great job with her."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

You turn your head when you're done playing with your toys. "Mummy," You say," Me and Mama saw a cookie cutter shark today! It was so cool!"

"Oh, really?" Mummy reaches down to pull you up onto her lap," Do you like cookie cutters?"

"They're my second favourite!" You declare," My most favourite is goblin sharks!"

Beth has to suppress the shiver at the mention of the goblin shark. The toy Viv got you practically lives on your bed and it was terrifying to see every night when she tucked you in. It was her least favourite of your toys but she didn't have the heart to throw it out and pretend the washing machine ate it.

"Oh, wow," She says instead," Well, have you got a cookie cutter at home?"

You shake your head and pout. "No."

"Should we get you one?"

"It can live on my bed!" You say," With my goblin!"

Viv laughs a little, like she knows something that Beth doesn't. "We'll get you a cookie cutter shark, liefje."

Beth whips out her phone to buy a cookie cutter plushie and immediately wishes that she hadn't offered. It's nearly as ugly as a goblin shark and it makes her a little sick to the stomach to see it, first in plush form and then the actual creature.

But, the big happy smile on your face and the way you press a kiss to her cheek and then Viv's, means that Beth can forget all about her horror as she sets a day for it to be sent to the house.

#woso x reader #meadema x reader #beth mead x reader #beth mead #vivianne miedema x reader #vivianne miedema #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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hyuny-bunny · 25 days

Text

baby said | Y.J. + H. H.

genre: established relationship, rockstar bf x groupie gf x rockstar bff, smut, a touch of fluff, a sprinkle of angst, M X F X M,

wordcount: 6.2K

part I

MNDI (+18) CW: oral (both m and f receiving), unprotected p in v, afab reader, use of she/her/hers/girlfriend, pet names (baby, angel), slight degradation, hyunjin is a whore, voyeurism, riding, squirting, fingering, slight breeding, cumplay, spanking (slightly), teeny bit of angst w/ a splash of fluff, slight overstimulation, threesome, M X F X M, mxm smut

a/n: proof read ? god no. if i miss any warnings please do let me know. also took me several days to pump this out so if you hate it, don't tell me :') peep the nana reference mwahaha

summary: after concert celebration with hyunjin and jeongin takes a turn... for the bed

Since that night in the green room, Hyunjin seemed to have slightly reeled in his behavior. Emphasis on slightly. He remained the flirt he was but less… opportunistic in his advances physically, less pressing you into walls & corners, opting to redirect the energy to his flirty advances. Jeongin noticed his hyung had become more affectionate with him, doting on him like a child or making suggestive remarks. But, no one spoke of that night.

Jeongin had purposely left that door unlocked. While the target in mind had been Hyunjin, he was willing to expose any poor soul's eyes to the lewd state he had you in that night. Jeongin had lucked out on seeing the look of shock, and terror, mixed with pleasure that painted his face. Finally, he had shown Hyunjin that his attempts would remain futile as long as Jeongin had you wrapped around his finger… Or in this case his cock.

Tonight was a big night for the band, Minho had made some calls and was able to arrange for a talent scout to watch them play. He happened to be an old friend of Minho’s but the timing never worked out until now. It was a sold-out show in the city, it had left them antsy and anxious for days leading up to the show. Pressure to be perfect, to show this label what they were and could be. You had never seen Jeongin as stressed as he was, it was to the point that sex had been put on pause until after the show. It didn’t offend you but it was hurting to see Jeongin this way without being able just to take the weight off his shoulder for a moment. In consequence, it leaves you starved. You still cuddled every night and his kisses were endless but you missed him inside you. Needed him in you like you needed air to breathe.

You arrive at the venue, making your way toward the hall that leads backstage, you show your credentials to security before making your way to the green room. The door was closed, Minho leaning against the frame with his head pressed to the wall.

“Everything alright?” You ask, his head finally peaks up to look at you.

“What do you think?” He asks sheepishly, half laughing and shaking his head.

“That bad?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen them this quiet, not even when they’re sleeping” You sigh knowing exactly what he meant.

“Is it alright to go in?”

“Yeah, go for it. The talent scout is here so I’m gonna fetch him” Minho gently grabs your shoulder in passing “Do. Not… Tell them that I’m bringing the scout in. They’ll all just jump up to their feet and mob him like puppies to kibble.”

“Yes, sir” You laugh knowing he’s probably right.

You knock on the door before walking in. Chan is twirling a drumstick in his hand anxiously, Jisung is hunched over in a ball on the floor fidgeting with the scratch in the wood coffee table, and Jeongin is sat back on the couch with a shaky knee biting back his lip. He only ever bites his lip like this when he’s too lost in thought. Matter of fact, they’re all too consumed with their thoughts to have even noticed you’ve walked in. You sit next to Jeongin causing him to snap out of his dazed state.

“What if I suck?” he asks without looking at you

“You won’t” He’s fixated on something across from him.

“But what if i do?”

“You won’t”

“But-”

“No head. Ever.”

“... that’s a bit cruel don’t you think?”

“Jeongin, look at me” He finally tears his eyes to look at you. His posture softens a bit. You lean forward to kiss his cheek, bringing your lips to his ears.

“You will do amazing like you have always, and I will be there watching, screaming, and cheering you on like I’m the only person in that room tonight.”

His face turns to lean into the hand that caresses his face.

“And when it’s all over, you can have me anyway, anywhere, and however you want, okay?”

There’s a flush across the top of his cheeks with that last comment.

“You know I love you right?” He whispers just low enough for you to hear

“I know”

He looks gorgeous, the black smokey eyeshadow makes his eyes even more striking against the ginger color of his hair. A decision that was made on impulse this past week but has somehow made him look even hotter. You survey the room once more noticing someone was missing.

“Where’s Hyunjin?” You ask which now has Jisung looking up from the coffee table and has Chan dropping his drumstick.

“He’s in the bathroom probably trying to yank one out, he ran through his speed dial fucks, none could be at his beck and call this week so he’s been particularly moody” Chan says so casually it's almost typical. There’s a slam against the wall coming from the bathroom and a loud shout. “See.”

The door to the bathroom is suddenly yanked open and a very frustrated-looking Hyunjin is standing in the doorway. His chest heaving as he puffs out a breath shooting Chan a glare. He’s wearing a black jacket with a velvet finish, a white tank top that scoops a little too low, and black jeans with docs to finish the look. He doesn’t spare you a glance before walking over to the vanity to put his rings on. You look at Jisung who has also zoned out. You slip off the couch to kneel next to him, he looks at you now at eye level with him.

“ I don’t think I need to tell you that they all wouldn’t be here tonight without you Ji, right?” He silently nods. “Good then lets put on a show none of them will forget.”

You kiss the crown of his head before standing up and turning to Chan.

“And you… just be hot and play those drums”

“The ever-encouraging words of our lovely, Y/N, ladies and gentlemen,” Chan applauds you as you curtsey. Hyunjin is sitting on the vanity looking at you, there’s something about his eyes that sends a shiver straight down to where you’ve been aching all week. It’s the same look he had in his eyes that night he grabbed your hand to feel up his tattoos.

“You on the other hand,” You point a wavering finger to Hyunjin “You’ll find something to stick your dick in tonight, so for the love of god, try to be less pissy until it’s all over.”

“I’ll hold out hope, maybe if I’m lucky enough, it'll be you,” He rolls his eyes and lets the comment slip past his lips before he’s able to catch it. It leaves your face flushed and the rest of them shooting a look of bewilderment at him.

The tension is cut by Minho walking back into the room, indicating its almost time for them to go on. On cue, you blow Jeongin a kiss to which he obnoxiously catches and presses to his lips. Hyunjin’s comment rolls around in your head until you get to the bar to grab a drink. You know him enough to know when he’s joking but this didn’t sound like it. The look of shock on everyone's face was just confirmation. You see a seat and ask the guy sitting left of it if it’s taken, he sheepishly says it's all yours. You shed the coat you've been wearing, lined and trimmed in faux fur with intricate embroidery, revealing your long-sleeved mini-black dress. You took note of the way his eyes drank everything in, you smiled looking at him again.

“Are you a big fan of the band?” You ask trying to make small talk, intrigued by his presence. He wasn’t dressed like anyone else here, he wore a grey hoodie and jeans, and a mop of soft brown hair sat on his head matching the softness of his eyes.

“Can’t say that I am just yet. This is my first show, and you?”

“You’re in for a real treat. I’m a huge fan you could say. Been to almost every show.” His eyes widen a bit at this. “Oh really? Just here for the music?” He asks with raised brows.

Without another word, you wink as the lights dim and the crowd screams.

This had to be one of their best shows, the energy from the crowd only amplifying their stage presence. You had never seen them performing as passionately as they had tonight. They all moved and played so perfectly in sync, on top of nailing every drum solo, guitar solo, and long vocal note. The lights had come on and your drink was empty once again. The guy who had been next to you had stood up lingering inside taking a phone call. Minho was the first to come out, he walked to security first to let them know to usher the remainder people out as quickly as possible.

“They’ll be out soon, the talent scout wants to see them to discuss a deal. The venue said we could have it in the attached restaurant so can you please take these orders and grab us a booth?” Minho asks while frantically looking around.

“Boo if this is my reward for being Jeongins girlfriend, I’m expecting a cut of this deal too” You pout at Minho who is waving you off.

You give the waiter the order for the 7 of you before sitting in the booth. It's a rounded booth with an extra chair at the open part of the table. You had given the coat to the host at the entrance but your legs felt cold with the mini dress riding up your thighs in this booth. It isn’t long before you see Chan and Jisung, dressed more casually and strutting to the table. You step out the booth to hug them both and congratulate them on the show. Minho is making his way down soon with Jeongin and Hyunjin in toe. Jeongin is grabbing you by the face to give you a kiss leaving you giggling at his enthusiasm. He tries to kiss all over your face before Jisungs groans and interrupts. You end up sandwiched between Jeongin and Hyunjin, which unfortunately does nothing for the ache between your thighs, the smell of their cologne is all you can breathe in, and the roughness of their jeans brushing against your exposed legs. They were both notorious for manspreading, so any thought or notion you had about legroom was out the window.

Hyunjin seems to either not notice or care about the way your legs try to scoot further from his, you opt to cross your legs over each other, causing your boyfriend to notice and slide a hand onto the thigh that was buried under the other leg, his hand smushed between your thighs and so close to where your panties are dripping for him. Jeongin carries on with his convo with Chan who sits next to him. You take a shallow breath trying to focus on anything else, this piques Hyunjin’s interest.

“What’s got you so worked up?” He asks lowly into your ear while throwing an arm around the back of the booth seating that cages you in.

“I could ask you the same” You scoff when he reaches to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I’ll share if you do? Here I’ll make it easy for you,” He riches for his drink tossing back the last of his drink, you watch a droplet slip down the side of his mouth just missing his lips. As he sets the drink down he’s leaning incredibly and his lips are practically pressed against the shell of your ear. “I would love nothing more than to rip that dress off your body, lay you out on this table, and fuck you while your boyfriend watches. And I know you haven't been fucked for days with how tense our Innie has been.”

You cough trying to suppress the moan you let slip, luckily it only has Jeongin turning to check on you with concern. You tell him you choked on air before he gives your thigh a reassuring squeeze and a kiss to your temple. He promised to make it up to you tonight for the dry spell he left you in this week. Hyunjin has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, his gaze fixed on the guy now walking to your table and waving to Minho. It’s the same guy from the bar.

“Ah finally. Everyone this is Seungmin, he works for Capitol Records.” Seungmin waves coyly until his eyes meet yours. Min goes around introducing you all.

“This is Jisung, our singer, Chan, our drummer, Jeongin, our lead guitarist, and Hyunjin, our bass player. This is Y/N, our unofficial assistant and resident groupie.” Minho laughs at that comment but earns him a shin kick from Hyunjin. You roll your eyes extending a handshake.

“I’m Jeongin’s girlfriend. I think it's fair to say that Assistants and Groupies have better benefits than I do but it’s nice to meet you. Formally, that is.” You smile coquettishly. You always knew better to play into the flirt act when it would benefit them.

“It’s nice to have a name to put to such a pretty face.” You blush but it's sincere. The rest are side-eyeing you suspiciously Jeongin only has a questionable look on his face, you mouth ‘tell you later’ to him which melts the furrowed brow expression on his face.

“Great news,” Seungmin says as he sits in the seat between “The company wants to sign you a two-record deal. Some terms are negotiable but I’ll need an answer tonight.”

“What are the terms?” Chan is the first to speak.

“55k sign-on bonus, 15% cut on ticket sales, 10% on album sales, and we keep the royalties.”

“No.” Jeongin says firmly. Seungmin has a shocked look on his face.

“We want our royalties, we write everything ourselves. We’ve produced everything ourselves up until now. Our royalties and right to the music is non-negotiable.” Jisung speaks up but there’s not a single thought of consideration for the offer on his face.

Seungmin looks to Minho for help, “I told you they weren’t gonna crack on that,” he says with a shrug.

“We’d be willing to give a portion of the royalties, but not all.” Hyunjin jumps in.

“20% for you and 80% for us” Chan says.

“You’re twisting my arm on this guys.” Seungmin looks at you all with pleading eyes, it’s so cute it almost works on you. You see why he’s the scout now. He stands up to pull his phone out “Let me make a call.”

He walks away leaving the 6 of you at the table quite, a bit jittery and anxious. Your mind brings you back to what Hyunjin said a few moments ago when you feel fingers brushing the side of your thigh where the hem of your dress rides up. You don’t have a chance to say something to him before Jeongin has a look of distress on his face, his grip on your thigh is getting a little tighter.

“I hate this. Everything about this makes me so anxious.’ He leans his head on your shoulder slumping back. You caress his face making him look at you.

“I can call Yasu, he might be a little helpful. Besides, unless he has some paperwork on him for you to sign at this very moment, which I highly doubt, nothing is final until you put pen to paper.” Yasu was a lawyer your friend of yours, very intimidating to look at with his dark sunglasses always on, the height, the piercings, and his bald head. He was a sweetheart but he had a cold look that always helped when you were going out.

“Please, could you?” He looks at you with his puppy eyes, you kiss his forehead before pulling your phone out to call him.

“Let me out, I gotta make a call.” You say to Hyunjin as your pulling up Yasu’s contact information. He doesn’t budge, “Hyun.”

“Gotta crawl across, baby, I don’t really feel like moving.” You wait a moment.

He can’t be serious. While you’d normally argue with him, you needed to call Yasu before Seungmin came back.

Fuck it.

Without a second thought, you put your legs over his lap before scooting yourself across his lap. That’s when you feel it, he’s hard. You're pulling your dress down again.

“You know you’re a real pain in my ass?” You huff

“I was hoping it would be a pleasure”

You look past him at Jeongin who’s still processing what he saw once again, he needs another moment.

You scurry off to a secluded corner to call Yasu.

It’s a brief conversation, he warns you of what to look out for and to call him first before signing anything.

“Hey, can I ask you something unrelated?”

“Of course.”

“If my boyfriend's band member who is also my long time friend, won’t stop flirting with me despite walking in on me and my very loving boyfriend having sex… what do i do to make him stop?”

He says nothing, you can hear him sigh deeply on the other end.

“Hyunjin.” It’s more of a statement then question, you hum in response. “Throw him a bone.”

“In what way?”

“That’s up to you. Goodnight.”

Your head spinning with ideas. You store it in the back of your mind for a moment before walking back seeing Minho waiving the waiter over to collect the bill.

“What happened?” You ask Jeongin who stands beside Jisung out of the booth.

“We’re renegotiating tomorrow afternoon, let Yasu know we’ll need him if they want to sign,” Jeongin says while wrapping an arm around you. You're texting your friend once more, giving him the details of when and where before he confirms he’ll be there first thing.

Jisung, Chan, and Minho had departed with their goodnights by the time you refocus on your surroundings. Hyunjin is still lingering, standing next to the both of you.

Throw him a bone.

“Hyun, you want to come out with us for a few drinks?” Jeongin asks. It seems someone has already beaten you to the question. Hyunjin is glancing at you once more before that stupid grin is back on his face.

“Sure. I got no one better to do. Sorry, I meant nothing better to do.”

You’re walking down to the speakeasy bar down the street a few blocks over, it was pretty hipster. Dark velvet walls, gold lighting fixtures, and indie shoegaze music. It looked like a burlesque hall but hipster men and women sprinkled everywhere. You often came here for a fun time after a show, it seemed as good of a time as any.

Hyunjin grabbed your drinks while you grabbed a table in the corner tucked from everyone else, your back to being sandwiched between the two of them. You take what was probably your third drink of the night, it’s liquid courage. Every time you felt a buzz like this, your actions were a bit unpredictable. You're swaying a bit, Hyunjin is staring at your lips. The entire time you’ve been sitting here, they were two chatterboxes not sparing an ounce of attention.

“Truth or dare?” You ask. Jeongin is leaning into your back with his head pressed to your shoulder.

“Truth,” Hyunjin answers without sparing a glance at Jeongin, he’s intrigued by the mischief in your eyes.

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?” Hyunjin’s brow raises.

“Yeah. I do. How does that make you feel?”

“Gotta play the game right, Hyunjinnie,” You say taunting a finger at him.

“Fine, truth or dare?”

“Dare.” Jeongin is pressing his lips into your shoulder.

“Take your panties off.” Your chest is fluttering, your boyfriend groans a bit.

“How do you know I’m wearing any?”

“Prove it, then.” You shake your head while you lift off the seat to pull them down a bit before shimming them off. You pick them up tossing the black thong into Hyunjins lap.

“Good girl.” Jeogin nips at your ear, and you let a moan slip while his hands start to paw at the flesh of your thighs. “Truth or dare, Hyunjin?”

‘“Dare,” Hyunjin’s head tilts like a confused puppy as he speaks.

“Kiss me.” Your pussy is drolling with the way Hyunjin is looking at you. You feel yourself getting hotter under his gaze.

Without another second passing, Hyunjin’s lips are attacking your own. It was everything you imagined, his lips were soft and full against yours. His kisses are wet from the way his tongue is dancing with yours. He has a hand in your hair pulling ever so softly, yours tangling in his hair while your other grips at Jeongin who sits behind you. He pulls away to bring his free hand up to your boyfriend's face, he grabs him by the hair pulling him in for a kiss. There, smushed between the two of them, you have the perfect view of their lips and tongues fighting for dominance. The wet smacking and saliva connecting their mouths have you whimpering. It was so lewd to be pressed between the two of them while they moaned and gasped into each other's mouths. They both pull back looking at the flush across your face while panting for air. Jeongin is the first to attack your neck on the side closest to him, and Hyunjin follows suit. You let out a whiny gasp, rubbing their thighs up and down before moving to their crotches feeling the strained hard cock’s beneath their pants. Jeongin’s hand makes its way to your exposed cunt, this pulls you out of your lust-filled haze. You remember you're in public again. You’re pulling Jeongin off once more too.

“Hotel. Now. Not here.” His lips are tinted pink and glossy from hickeys he's just sucked into your skin.

He groans but silently agrees grabbing your purse, Hyunjin pulls away from your neck reluctantly. Pulling you with him out of the booth. Jeongin is leading you out of the now crowded bar, holding your hand while Hyunjin keeps a hand on your waist right beside you. Your heart is racing, pounding against your chest. The walk back to your hotel feels like an eternity, Jeongin is repeatedly slamming down the elevator button with impatience. Hyun is pressed firmly against your back, his arm wrapped around your waist and his hand splayed on your tummy. Never been more thankful to have him holding you so firmly in fear your legs would give out any moment. Hyunjin nips at your ear teasingly while you feel his growing erection poke into your back. The elevator dings, Jeongin dragging the two of you inside. Once the doors shut on you three, Jeongin kisses you once more, his hand rests on your throat holding you in place. Hyunjin is groaning at the sight feeling himself harden even more at the sight of his friend dominating you, his hands are feeling your chest. Hyunjin slips a hand underneath your dress from behind, feeling the way the lack of panties has only made your pussy droll with excitement for him.

You're pulled off the elevator in a swift motion by the two of them, being straight into the room and onto the bed. You're ripping your clothes off while the other two ogle at the scene in front of them, you fully naked in front of them.

"Who's first?" You ask smirking, trail hand between your thighs, turned on by the sight of the two of them staring at you with hunger in their eyes. They turn to look at each other but Jeongin does the unexpected. He's grabbing a fistful of Hyunjin's hair leaning into his ear.

"I want to watch you eat her out first. You can manage that can't you?" Hyunjin is wincing in pain and pleasure before muttering out a yes. "Good, strip your clothes then."

Hyunjin is throwing his clothes off haphazardly around the room, Jeongin sheds the last of his clothes before he settles down on the bed sitting behind you. Hyunjin is down to his boxers, staring at the both of you before sliding them down revealing his cock. He's big like Jeongin, he's not as long but he's just as girthy if not more. You haven't stopped playing with the slick between your thighs, having enjoyed every moment of the strip show, you glance back to see Jeongin, stroking himself looking between you two. Hyunjin is pulling your hands away from yourself pining them above your head. He's laid atop of you, the feeling of his tip so close to your entrance has you whimpering and wiggling under to get some friction.

"Not so fast. I've waited so long for this." He mumbles with his lips just brushing your own, he goes in for a kiss. It's short but filthy with the way his tongue slips. He pulls away, he holds your wrists in one hand to bring his hand down to your face and squeeze your cheeks.

"Open." You open your mouth only for him to spit right onto your tongue. "Swallow."

You do as he says.

"Fuck, I'm gonna ruin you, such a good girl." He glances at Jeongin while moving his way down your body with teasing kisses. Jeongin gets the hint and leans forward to take hold of your wrists.

When he finally gets to your thighs, you're already whining for him to do anything. He takes his time watching you through lidded eyes, kissing the inside of your thighs until he's faced with your cunt. He licks a strong stripe up flicking your clit leaving you gasping for more, pushing a thigh up and over his shoulder, he starts with slow but firm licks your clit. One arm stretched across your hips to hold you in place while his free hand repeatedly slaps to the outside of your thigh. After enough teasing, his mouth is fully latched to your cunt, messily slurping up every drop of you. You’re screaming out at his torment, looking up at Jeongin who has let up on his grip on your wrist. He's enticed by the way Hyunjin's face is buried in between your legs. He uses his free hand to grope your tit, massaging the boob in his hand and leaning down to kiss you. You're moaning into his mouth when you feel Hyunjin's finger now brushing your g spot. You feel your eyes rolling back and the knot in your stomach about to burst, the feeling of his lips sucking at your clit, and your back arching off the bed begging to feel relief. You can feel Hyunjin’s fingers pick up pace and his tongue flicking repeatedly as you feel your orgasm approaching, and then the rubber band inside you snaps. Legs shaking, body twitching, and cries pouring from your throat as your release drips down Hyunjin’s face.

With every touch, your skin feels like fire as you lay there trying to come back to the present. You almost missed the way Jeongin pulled Hyunjin from between your thighs, attacking his face with hot, sloppy kisses, desperate to know what he tasted like with your release coating his lips. When you regain consciousness, Hyunjin is flipping you over onto your stomach, lifting your hips in the air.

“Are you okay? Do you want to keep going?” Jeongin is leaned down by your face. You nod and whisper yes, throat tired from the screams you let out moments ago. He kisses your forehead before maneuvering to sit in front of you, his legs spread while his cock leaks with precum. His tip is angry red, begging to be touched. You’re reminded that Hyunjin is behind you when you feel a harsh smack on your ass, fingers playing between your folds. He gripped his cock with one hand, stroking himself a few while aligning your hips into place. You feel the way he rubs his tip against your dripping cunt, you wiggle your hips begging him to just put in.

“Please... Hyun please just fuck me please,” You plead while gripping the bed, nails digging into the comforter.

“Anything for you, my angel. Such a dirty girl crying out for my cock arent you?”

He’s slamming his hips into you giving you little time to adjust to feeling, his cock brushes against your cervix. He’s thicker then Jeongin, you can feel every ridge of him inside you. You yelp clenching down on him which causes Hyunjin to groan loudly, digging his fingertips into your hips. He moves slowly pulling himself out before bottoming out inside you again. Your whimpers only egg him on, Jeongin is fisting himself, all thoughts consumed by your moans and the way Hyunjin is slamming himself in and out.

“Gonna fill you up so good. Watch me empty my load into your angel girlfriend, Jeongin.”

Hyunjin picks his pace up, the sound of skin slapping echoes in the room while he pounds into you from behind. You attempt to bury your face in the blanket you lay on top but Hyunjin is drunk on the way you cry out in pleasure, he wants you crying out his name while Jeongin watches. He pulls you up by your hair, lifting you to hold yourself up on your hands, he wraps an arm around your throat, leaning over your body to chokehold you. He continues his merciless thrusting and looks up to Jeongin while he grunts burying himself inside you to the hilt. He has a catlike smirk on his face while you cry out again feeling his tip brushing that spot inside you again. Jeongin is rapidly unfolding at the sight, but he can’t bring himself to release yet. Hyunjin lets you go before pulling out of you leaving you crying out at the empty feeling. He flips you onto your back, you roll over like a ragdoll now that every muscle in your body is worn. He settles on his lifting your hips into his lap before beginning to pound into your cunt. He holds your hips in the air while your back is arching once again, he’s so close and this new angel is bring him close to his own climax. Your whole body shakes and pussy clenches down on him, trying to milk every last drop of cum out of him. With a few sloppy thrusts, he climaxes inside you, painting your insides white with his cum. Your 2nd orgasm falters off as you aren’t as close, when you feel him pull out, your legs shake, needing him to finish what he started. You pant in place aching to feel your release. You look up at Jeongin, your boyfriend who watched his best friend just dump his load into you.

“Sit on my face.” It’s all he says, it's all Jeongin needs to say. He couldn’t cum, not when your pussy was dripping with Hyunjin’s cum. He needed to taste. When he finally scoots down the bed low enough for you to straddle his face and hold the headboard for support. He gives your ass a hard slap, gripping your hips down to smother his face, he was going to eat you out like you were his last meal. Without another second to spare, his tongue is dipping in and out between your folds, Hyunjin’s cum pouring onto his tongue. Lapping every drop into his mouth like you were spring water in the desert.

Hyunjin had been watching this play out. Trying to catch his breath but he’s hard again, he can’t ignore the burning desire in his stomach to suck Jeongin off right now, when would he ever get another opportunity like this again? He makes his way back onto the bed push Jeongins legs apart, before settling down right between them just like he had done to you earlier. You look over your shoulder catching a glance before Hyunjin is spitting on your boyfriend’s cock to start stroking him. You had a burning feeling in your stomach recalling back to that night Innie fucked you on the couch remembering the fever flush that came over you seeing the way Hyunjin drank the image up. You brought back to reality when Jeongin groans into your pussy, overwhelmed by the feeling of Hyunjin taking him all the way down his throat. Jeongin snaps his hips up causing Hyunjin to gag and tighten his throat around him, you grind your hips into his mouth looking down at him while leaving another harsh smack across your ass.

You’re close to cumming again, your hand fisted in Innie’s hair while he moans into your pussy. He picks up the speed rapidly flicking his tongue on your clit, your thighs hurting from both the approaching orgasm and keeping yourself up from suffocating your boyfriend. Hyunjin is sloppily sucking your boyfriend off, pulling off for a moment to lick at his balls before flattening his tongue, and licking a long stripe from his balls to his tip. You once again feel your orgasm washing over you and cum shakily down on Jeongins face, he gleefully takes your hips in his hand helping you ride out his orgasm. You pull yourself shortly after to keep yourself from falling into full overstimulation, Hyunjin still lies between your boyfriend's legs, bringing Jeongin close to his own orgasm. Jeongin lifts his head up just enough to watch him shove Hyunjin’s head further down on his cock once more, holding him in place while he empties himself into his mouth. Out of breath, Innie lays there while Hyunjin slowly pulls his mouth off, letting Jeongins cum drip down out of his mouth back into his cock.

Panting, out of breath laying next to Jeongin, you hug his arm leaning your head on his shoulder. He smooths your hair down kissing your forehead muttering an ‘I love you’. The bed shifts when you feel Hyunjin lie next to you, you're all worn out, tired, and sore. Jeongin is the first to move with shaky legs, he makes his way to the bathroom to run a bath for you. Hyunjin is holding you in his arms, his head is pressed into your shoulder.

“I love you… I love you both so much… this won’t ruin us right?”

You roll over in his arms to look at him, Hyunjin had tears welling in his eyes. You knew him better than anyone else, his efforts to find a home in someone else’s body were all efforts made in a vain mindset, that sex could somehow fix the hole he had in his heart. He was always going to be in love with you, in love with you both. His heart held as much love for you as it did for Jeongin, someone he was never quite sure would ever reciprocate the love in the same way.

“No, this changes some things but it’ll never ruin us. Come on, let's shower, we can talk things over in the morning. For now, we can hold on to this moment.”

A tear slips past, you wipe the tear away from his cheek rubbing a soothing thumb over his face. Hyunjin walks to the bathroom first, Jeongin comes back out for a moment.

“Baby, I think you’re gonna have to help me to the bathroom. My legs feel like jello.” You tell Jeongin as laughs, he’s still hard so his erection still stands tall when he stands in front of you.

“I got you,” He picks you up bridal style, you wrap your arms around his neck. He stops for a moment with you like this. You cup his face and kiss him, a sweet one, a reassurance that you love him. He presses his forehead to yours, “I have so many mixed emotions right now… but I know… I need you both… more then ever.”

“I’m right there with you. Now, let's shower please, I’m begging you.”

After having both of them hold you up in the shower to wash, a cooperative effort to clean up the mess you left behind in the bed, you finally settle under the new sheets and comforter after having to ask the hotel housekeeping for shamefully. You wore one of the many band t-shirts Jeongin had, it was just the right amount of worn to feel soft against hot skin. Hyunjin grabbed spare clothes from his room before returning to the shared room for some much-needed cuddling and aftercare. You’d fall asleep sandwiched between the two of them, Hyunjin pressed to your back and your head on Jeongins chest.

You wake up the next morning to your phone blowing up, Hyunjin and Jeongin both passed out in a comatose sleep. You scramble across the bed to reach the dresser.

"Hello?" You ask groggily.

"Where are you and where is the other half of this band? I'm with the rest at the record companies office and the meeting is in 20 minutes." Yasu's voice is like a splash cold water to your face.

"Oh FUCk-" Your shoving the other two awake, shouting something about meeting and company. They both drop to the floor scrambling to find clothes.

"They'll be there soon maybe 10 minutes, 15 at most." You say as you watch the flee out the door.

"I'll try to stall till they get here... you said "they"... did you?..."

"I took your advice... and that's all I'll say."

377 notes · View notes

murdrdocs · 7 months

Note

getting a small drawing of abby’s tattooed when mike proposes <3 the ring is your commitment to love mike and the tattoo is your commitment to love abby <333

this is sick in the bestest of ways :(

there's a ring on your finger, simple and minimalistic, nothing too extravagant. but you don't need extravagant. you don't want extravagant, either. you like the pure life you have now with mike and abby, and the ring on your finger is a reminder of your commitment.

but only to him. not to the little girl who hangs onto your every word. not to your new partner in crime who desperately wants to replicate your unset aesthetic. not to the person you smile with the most.

you're thinking on the subject one day whenever abby shows you a new drawing, smile big especially with the final teeth she's grown in. you smile down at it, too, like you always do, but your sights zone in on the three sets of hands clasped together.

it's your suggestion and abby is delighted to tag along with you. she watches with wonder as the artist presses the machine needle to your skin. she holds your hand when you wince and sweetly asks you if you're okay, actual concern in her voice when you shut your eyes tight.

you reward yourself with ice cream after, another expense added to the day but you couldn't care less. through licks and words full of chocolate, you and abby ogle at the permanent drawing on your skin, abby touching it over the second skin every few moments as she continuously breathes out sounds of wonder.

"i wonder how long it'll take mike to notice." abby poses the question as a hypothetical, nothing but the thought pattern of a child spoken aloud. but you like the sound of it, and you suggest keeping it a secret, abby delightedly pantomiming zipping her lips and tucking the key into your pocket in response.

you put her question to the test when you arrive home, bellies full from ice cream and a subsiding ache in your arm.

mike kisses you like usual, ruffling abby's hair when the two of you enter. abby giggles, shooting looks at you from around mike. you press a finger to your lips behind his back, satisfied that mike chalks abby's behavior up to her playful nature.

it's not until a few hours later whenever the three of you are watching HGTV (you and abby's new favorite channel) in the living room after dinner that mike notices. he's playing with your hand like always, twirling your ring around your finger, lifting and pressing his rough hands into your knuckles periodically. he traces his hand along the top of your hand, leading to your wrist, and that's when he stops.

his hands still, you think his breathing does, too, and you send him a glance. you don't say anything, he doesn't say anything, abby comments on the chosen wall color of the tv couples house.

then mike lifts your wrist, turns it around, and when his eyes meet yours they appear a little more glassy. "what's this?"

you lick your lips. "a tattoo."

you see abby's bob tousling in the wind she creates when she whirs her head around in your peripheral vision. you assume she's smiling and eager now that you've unlocked her zipped lips.

"of what?" mike's eyes bounce between his two beaming girls.

abby handles this one for you, bouncing to her feet. "it's my drawing!" she runs to the kitchen table, grabbing the drawing from a couple of weeks ago, and showing it to mike. "see!"

mike stares at the drawing, then at your wrist, taking in the three pairs of stick figure hands that are linked together, bordering your left hand.

when he stares back at you, you interpret his look as bewilderment. panic sets in and you start to consider that maybe mike didn't want you to commit to his sister like this. maybe this is too much. maybe you should've asked his opinion. maybe he–

and then mike kisses you. soft, yet passionate, and slow. you distantly hear abby's expression of distaste from beside you both, but the only thing you can really focus on is mike running his thumb back and forth over the second skin covering your tattoo.

#mschmidtsworld!#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt #celeste writes fnaf

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worldofkuro · 2 months

Text

Painted Smile

Painted Smile I

Pairing: Alastor x Female!Reader

Next Chapter ->

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: It's going to turn dark very quickly, but let's enjoy childhood innocence heh... It's my first time writing for Alastor so I hope I'll do him justice.

“ Do you promise to be a good girl, love?”

You gave your mother a beaming smile while she was doing your hair in front of her vanity. You were trying not to bounce with excitement , your parents have decided to move to New Orleans, in Louisiana, thanks to your dad's new job. Your mother was born there and she was talking about a friend that she couldn’t wait to meet again!

You couldn’t help being happy to see your mother so cheerful, even more so when she told you that this particularly cherished friend of hers had a child around your age! You had to say goodbye to your playfellows in your old country so you were eager to make new friends here.

Once your mother finished styling your hair, you jumped off the chair and gave a little twirl in your new dress, making your mother laugh. She took you in her arms and kissed you on both cheeks as you giggled. You turned your head towards the door as your father came in with a tired smile. He went to kiss your mother then yourself on your forehead.

“ Are the most beautiful ladies in town ready ?”

You blinked as you looked at the trees surrounding the house that you were walking toward. Your mother held your hand while chatting eagerly with your father who had a fond gaze as he was admiring her. She stopped once she saw the door open and a black woman ran toward her, your step on the side as she gave a crushing hug to the lady.

You tilted your head, watching your mother’s friend. She had a beautiful smile, dark hair held in a bun with a red ribbon and eyes that looked like they were made of chocolate.

“ Oh , I’m so happy to meet you again Marie! Look at you, glowing like the sun! But where are my manners? You already know my husband of course, but let me introduce you to my sweet little girl !” Your mother exclaimed as she pushed you toward the lady who smiled widely as she set her gaze on you.

She crouched before you and kissed you on both cheeks just after you introduced yourself. You blinked, confused but the lady explained it was a french custom called “ La bise.”

“ Oh dear, you are just the cutest ! Please do come inside, I’ll call my son so you two can play together !” Marie said as she clapped her hands together, inviting you to enter the house.

You bounced into the house, excited to finally meet your future friend, what kind of game will you play? Tag? Hide and Seek? You were unbeatable in those games. Nobody could catch you, you were like the wind, untouchable, uncaged… You look around the living room, as the adults did their things, and look at a picture: it was obviously Marie with a man and a little boy. You took the photo carefully and examined it, the boy had a wide smile, similar to Marie’s,he had glasses on. He looked small–

“ Do you not know that it is rather rude to touch others' belongings?”

You squeaked and turned around to find the boy in the picture in front of you, the photo hidden behind your back. His arms were folded in front of his torso, one eyebrow raised up with a closed smile and eyes staring at you, unlike the photo he wasn’t wearing glasses and his skin was almost …caramel like? He was a tad smaller than you…Wait, what did he say?

“And it is rude to come unannounced behind a lady!” you replied making yourself even taller than the boy in front of you. It was embarrassing being catched red handed like that! He tilted his head, never losing his smile.

“ I see no lady.”

“ What-”

“ Alastor, mon coeur, there you are !” Marie came into the living room with your mother, smiling. She kissed the boy's forehead and looked at you. “ This is my son, Alastor, he is nine years old. Bébé, I hope you were polite and said hi.” You saw the boy- Alastor's smile twitched a little as he looked at his mother. You were going to show him that you knew your manners, you were not rude! You kissed him on both cheeks just like his mother did to you a few minutes ago. You took a step back to introduce yourself but you saw him looking at you, eyes wide open, his smile frozen and… was his cheeks-

“ Oh, excuse my daughter ! Sweetie, you don’t just randomly kiss boys like that!” your mother said as she apologized to Marie who was just laughing, commenting on how cute you were. Dang it, did it make you ruder to Alastor’s eyes ? As both of your mothers went into the kitchen Alastor walked closer to you, his face way too close!

“ It’s rude to look at someone face this close!”

“I need to be close to see when I’m not wearing my glasses, if not, everything is… Blurry. So I'm not rude… ” He said with a polite smile, taking a step back from you. Maybe you judged him too quickly, he didn’t know what you were doing with the photo, when he said that he saw no lady, maybe it was because he couldn't see so–“ But now that I have seen you up close I can clearly say… I see no lady.”

“ You–!”

“ Kids, time to eat !”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You stared at Alastor as everyone was enjoying the food - which was delicious -, he was smiling as he answered your parents' question or even helped his mother. You were a good girl, no question asked here… But this boy, saying you were rude… You were just curious and bored! You watched as your mother asked Alastor what he liked to do. As he opened his mouth to answer you fake a sneeze and hit him in the shin with your shoes.

You looked up to see Alastor staring at you with a wide smile. You waved at him, apologizing, smiling sweetly.

“ You have such a polite daughter!” Marie said as she patted your head.You beamed at Alastor, take that! You opened your mouth to say a heartfelt thank you but Alastor kicked you in the same place that you did. Your knee flinched, hitting the table making your glass fall, the water inside it wetting the table. You panicked as you said sorry trying to prevent the water from falling on the floor.

“ Excuses accepted !”

You looked up to Alastor's voice, as he gave you a big smile before drinking from his glass as the adults laughed at his answer to your panicking apologies. You were fuming, it was your moment! The adults were giving you their attention, their compliment, you were making your parents proud but he stole it from you, so easily !

“ Why don’t you both go play outside ? We will call you when the desert is ready.”

Alastor stood up from his chair, smiling at you. “ I know many games we could play.” You nodded and followed him outside.

As soon as you were out of the house you tried to kick him but he avoided it so smoothly you just stared at him in shock. He looked at you with a beaming smile.

“ So unladylike.”

“ You know what, we’re going to play games, and you should go wear your glasses because you won’t see my victory coming!” You said, stomping your foot on the floor, your fist clenching.

“ I don’t need to see something that will never come.” he chuckled as you stuck your tongue at him, he couldn’t even see you properly so who cares. You stopped as you saw a swing attached to a big tree. You ran toward it with an excited smile, it’s been so long since you saw one! You sat on it and began to swing, higher and higher. You closed your eyes as you tilted your head backward, bending your back toward the grass.

“ Jump.”

You blinked and dug your feet into the ground, dirtying your shoes in doing so. You looked at Alastor who was in front of you.

“ I beg your pardon?”

“ No need to beg “ what a smartass “ When you reach the highest spot in the air, jump.”

“ And why should I do this ? I could hurt myself and dirty my dress !”

“ Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were scared, my mistake.” he said, looking bored still smiling. You didn’t know why, but you didn’t like this expression on his face, even more that it was destined to you. You squeezed the swing’s ropes.

“ Don’t stay in my way, I’m doing it.” You watched as his face wore an expression of surprise. He stood on the side as you went higher and higher. You had a weird feeling in your stomach as you looked at the ground underneath you as you prepared yourself to let go of the ropes and jump… You looked at Alastor who was watching curiously, you knew he didn’t trust you to actually do it. Well, maybe he saw you as rude, but he will not see you as a coward !

You let go of the rope and jumped.

It felt like time had slowed down, you felt like floating for a short moment, you could feel a warm feeling in your body before dropping to the floor on your hands and knees. You didn’t move, even when you heard Alastor’s step stopping next to you. It felt.. good ! You stood up excitedly.

“ Wow! Did you see that Alastor ! I did it ! Haha ! That was super amazing !” you said, jumping around while clapping your hands together. You turned to him, pointing your finger in his direction. “ Now it’s my turn to find a game!” Alastor nodded, still smiling, waiting patiently for your instruction. You looked at the tree and grinned. “ Climb that tree without falling!” He looked up at the tree than at you, shrugged and began climbing.

You looked at him as he climbed the tree easily, sitting in a branch, smug.

“ I should thank you, now that I’m here, I don’t have to see your face.”

“ My face is pretty !”

“ Pretty ugly.”

“ Alastor !”

You played all afternoon together, laughing and teasing each other. You laid on the grass, trying to catch your breath as Alastor was sitting next to you, out of breath too. You stared at him and grinned

“ I have another game… Ready?” He nodded as you sat up. “ You need to put your hands on the other person’s face and tell a secret.” He raised one eyebrow, his smile twitching. “ For example!” you placed your hands in front of his eyes, making him more blind than he already was. “ I… I had a great time with you.” You kept your hand on his eyes, smiling. “ And when I take off my hand, it’s like you've never heard anything.”

You took off your hands as he nodded slowly. He stared at you and looked away “ Do you know another game?” You blinked, a pang of disappointment in your heart, didn’t Alastor have a great time with you..? You looked at him, biting your lips.

“ We can play.. Hide and Seek..?” Alastor turned his eyes toward you with a glint. “ But without your glasses I don’t know if you would be able to catch me..” you sighed but he stood up, excitedly.

“ No worry, go hide, I’ll come find you.”

You were hiding behind a tree, not because you didn’t find a better hiding spot, but because you were sure of your skills and Alastor was blind as a bat. If he happened to see you, you would just run out of his… vision perimeter. And furthermore, you wanted to see him look for you and fail to find you. You were still hurt that he didn’t tell you a secret like you did, so you wanted to win this last game before going home.

You smiled as you saw him walking towards the bushes. You put your hands on your mouth, trying to stifle your giggles. You were going to have so much fun. He wasn’t in much hurry, and you were beginning to be reckless. It was becoming boring… you looked at the orange sky, it was going to be night time soon…You closed your eyes. Should you claim your victory before Alastor lost himself in the dark woods? Yes, it would be the safest–

“ Found you.”

You opened your eyes and saw Alastor face above your face with a big smile. As his hand came toward you to catch you,claiming his victory, you ran. You looked behind you as Alastor gathered himself, he seemed shocked about your reaction, but he was soon running after you. You couldn’t help but laugh as you ran toward the house, you felt free knowing that he could never catch you.You saw your parents outside and stopped once you were near your mother and turned toward Alastor with a beaming grin.

“ I won. You found me, but didn’t catch me.” you said, out of breath.

“ It’s a tie then..” He sighed with a knowing smile as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“ I’m happy that you both had a grand time. Look at your clothes, sweetie…”Your mother tried to wipe some dirt from your dress but she couldn't do anything about it. “ We have to go sweetie. Say your goodbye.”

You felt a pang of sadness as you realised your parents were ready to leave. You walked toward Alastor, pouting.

“ Well.. Goodbye…” You looked at the floor, tears in your eyes. You didn't want to go, you had so much fun with Alastor. You flinched when you felt his hands covering your eyes.

“ I had fun and… you are pretty.” You froze as he kept his hands on your eyes. You wanted to see if he was still smiling, or.. was he teasing you… But the rules of the game are clear. You will not talk about it even if you wanted it badly. Maybe you could arrange some other rules?

You opened your eyes once you felt his hands moving from your face. Alastor was already next to his mother. Marie kissed your cheeks, promising that you could come whenever you wanted. You felt a feeling of relief knowing that it wasn’t the last time you could play with Alastor. You waved goodbye to Alastor and Marie before going home.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After your bath you chatted with your mother about your afternoon with your new friend.

“ He can’t see from up close ! I hope he will wear his glasses next time” you said as your mother put you to bed. She tilted her head, confused.

“ Alastor can see up close perfectly fine darling, he has some problems seeing far away but it’s mostly when he is tired. So, don't worry too much.” she kissed your forehead, wished you goodnight and left.

He can clearly see up close…

He can…

You screamed his name with anger in your pillow. It wasn’t a tie and he knew it. He won the game! You could almost hear his giggles! Next time you see him, you’ll show him!

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #fanart #alastor scenario #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #x reader #fiction #hazbin alastor x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #alastor headcanons

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ma1dita · 3 months

Note

🐥 okay but how about a lil something based off of lyrics from 18 by Anarbor

So if you wanna piss off your parents, date me to scare them

Show them you're all grown up

If long hair and tattoos are what attract you

Baby then you're in luck

And I know it's just a phase

You're not in love with me

You wanna piss off your parents, baby

Piss off your parents

That's alright with me

dionysus!reader just turned 18 and is proving to her dad that she's all grown up but D won't listen cuz she's the only girl child he has so she dates the golden boy of camp, Luke Castellan to piss off her dad which he doesn't approve bcs well, he's his father's son

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

luke castellan x dionysus!reader

a/n: yall know i love a dionysus!reader. in a world where rick didn't write children's books, luke castellan would've had tattoos and definitely fucked. anyways suggestive content ahead!!

wc: 692

You were only going to date Luke Castellan to prove a point.

You’re 18 now, and it’s about time that daddy dearest takes you seriously. Being Dionysus’ only daughter meant that you were essentially kept under lock and key, and it was so unfair in the grand scheme of things—there’s inhibitions inside you that beg to be set free… It’s not your fault. Might as well hit him where it hurts—so you went for the bane of Mr. D’s godly existence, also known as Luke Castellan.

It’s not your fault that your dad’s temper drove you to the doorstep of Cabin 11, twirling your hair between your fingers as you waited to see their cabin counselor. He sauntered over to the door with a half-grin on his face, slinging his arm to lean against the doorframe as he hovers over you. It’s not often that Camp Half-Blood’s princess comes asking for a favor. You always get what you want, even without asking, so it was a surprise to hear you give him the proposition of being in a fake relationship.

Truthfully, there was nothing in it for him. He’s a nice guy, and Luke just loves to piss your dad off. To outsiders, there was nothing that made more sense than Mr. D’s little girl dating the camp hero–Luke’s hand gripping your waist like it’s a vice and you pressing kisses onto his jaw and neck unlike the innocent girl everyone thought you were. Holding hands in public, sucking face at the bonfire, playing house with the campers—it was all part of a show that everyone adored, all except for Mr. D.

Your dad saw straight through it—hating that you had to pick a son of Hermes, hating the reality of his daughter entangling herself with the older boy who’s innate nature is to trick and deceive and penetrate through the many defenses your father set to protect you. It’s his fault for raising you to make everyone eat out of the palm of your hand. You always get what you want, and even daddy’s little princess isn’t safe from the wiles of that scar-faced sucker. It was a losing battle, even for the god of insanity—poor guy pulling at his graying hair at the conduct report Chiron put on his desk a few weeks later.

Getting caught in the stables with Luke’s hand up your skirt and your soft hands grazing the tattoos along his torso wasn’t necessarily part of the plan. The two of you were moving hay bales for the pegasi and it was hard work (that you made Luke do as you sat pretty on an overturned bucket). He was glistening with sweat, lifting his shirt to wipe his mouth—revealing the cascading tattoos along his ribcage and infiltrating your mind with other things he could put his mouth to if he wanted.

Who are we kidding—you want Luke Castellan, and you’ll be damned if you don’t have him right now.

All it took was scrunching up the hem of your denim skirt over your crossed legs and smiling at him in the sunlight and he was on you—twisting and writhing in hay as you kissed like your lives depended on it, even without an audience. The grins on both your faces signaled that neither of you cared, him grabbing the plush of your ass and you raking your nails up the back of his neck. Luke presses kisses into your collarbone, whispering things your dad would smite him for, but to you, it was like he was putting in the password to your untapped thirst. Ecstasy was about to unfurl with how his fingers played with the band of your underwear, tiny noises and nods letting him know he was doing everything right. It’s not your fault, really—you just want to prove a point!

But then the both of you were caught red-handed by a satyr, lips kiss-swollen and giggling at how he unraveled you so quickly. A conduct report was filed, but it didn’t stop Luke from finding new ways to unlock your deepest desires.

Besides, picking at locks is part of Luke’s expertise, among other things.

#jo's 23rd birthday bash ⋆｡°✩#luke castellan x reader #made by ma1dita ♥︎#luke castellan x dionysus!reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader

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whorekneecentral · 6 months

Text

Family's Growing

Kylian Mbappe x Fem!Reader

Warnings: kylian has baby fever, dirty thoughts, baby talk, breeding, oral (f!receiving), fingering, penetrative sex (p in v), breeding/pregnancy kink goes burrrr, daddy used in a sexual context, begging, creampies, finger fucking and sucking lol, cum play.

Word Count: 1,615

Author's Note: okay I'm finally back on track with these - yes I know Tuesday is over but please look past that lol.

merry smutmas series

Kylian finds himself swooning over how good you are with his niece and nephew, the thought of having a family with you spins around his head.

Christmas was a time for family and that seemed to be the only thing on your boyfriend's mind.

The two of you had gone over to his parents' place for Christmas dinner, all of his cousins were there as well as their kids. Kylian was not the favourite uncle for no reason, all of them knew they were getting good gifts in bountiful amounts too.

The tree in the living room that was once full with presents were now opened, the floor covered in wrapping paper. It was only two kids, his cousin's son and daughter, and Ethan if you counted him as well; and yet, it seemed like Kylian had bought the entirety of Paris for them.

Kylian watches as you lay on the floor with his niece and nephew, the three of you putting together a tower made of legos, whispering and giggling as you built the tower.

He smiles to himself as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. A part of him isn't sure what he did to be so lucky, to have a career as great as his and to have a girlfriend who's so loving and kind and supportive. You loved his family like your own, right now was a prime example.

Seeing you with kids always did something for him, you had a maternal nature about you, anyone who met you could see that.

The thought crossed his mind many times, how nice it would be to start a family with you. You two had spoken about it ages ago, when you began dating. You both decided that you'd revisit the idea when you were more stable in life and that you were now. Both you and Kylian were stable in careers, you two lived together, you had been together for a while and you had the means to raise a child.

He couldn't see where it would be a no.

As much as he wanted a kid with you, the idea of making a kid was much more appealing.

Clothes on the floor, hands all over each other, watching as you begged him to cu- "You okay?" Ethan asks his older brother, breaking his thought.

Kylian clears his throat. "Yeah," he nods, a smile on his face as you glance over your shoulder at him.

"They love her," Ethan nods towards you with the kids, "y/n's always been good with them."

"She was good with you too," Kylian teased his brother. You two had begun dating just before his World Cup win, the two of you barely 18 years old and Ethan was 12 - still a child in his brother's eyes and he always will be.

Ethan rolls his eyes at his brother's comment.

After some time, the kids started to get tired which was their parents' signal to head out. You and Kylian left not too shortly after that as well.

Your boyfriend finds you in the kitchen after he changes for bed, his arms wrapped around you from behind whilst your elbows propped on the counter as you waited for the kettle to boil.

"Something on your mind, baby?" You asked him, twirling the string attached to your tea bag.

"Just thinking."

"About?"

Kylian hums. "Kids."

His answer catches you off guard, you turn to face the man with a confused look on your face. "Kids?"

He shrugs, smiling. "Seeing you with the little ones today, I don't know - it got me thinking. It'd be nice to have our own, don't you think?" His hand rests on your hip, thumb disappearing under the hem of your shirt.

A glance at your boyfriend's hand, your eyebrows raised. "Do you really mean having kids or making kids?"

You can't help the laugh, kissing your boyfriend. The man wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him. Kylian picks you up, holding you tightly as he kisses you and carries you over to the couch.

Kylian puts you down, sitting on the couch for a moment as he looks at you. You take that as your sign to undress.

The silk shorts sliding down your smooth legs, pooling by your ankles before you step out of them, you pull off the tank top and that leaves you in the blue set he loves. You reach behind to unhook your bra but Kylian stops you, “leave it on.”

He pulls you by your waist back to him, his hand slipping down to rest on your ass before giving it a smack. You’re quiet, looking down at your boyfriend on the couch.

He puts you to lay on the couch, he’s sat between your legs with one on either side of him. You’ve propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him and Kylian drags his fingers up your thigh, moving to your clothed pussy.

“I like this,” he tells you, fingers rubbing over the blue lace.

You smile, “I know.”

He pulls the panties to the side, his eyes fixed on your pussy. He gives you no warning, pushing his fingers into you. The sound leaving your mouth was like heaven on earth to him.

Kylian's fingers curl upwards, your back arching at the feeling.

“Keeks, please.” your hand reaches down to wrap on his wrist but he swats your hand away, managing to pull both to rest on your stomach and his free hand over your hands, pinning them to your stomach.

You try to wiggle your hands away from him, trying to grab on something. “Behave.” He tells you, adding another finger.

Your face twists, pleasure all across it and our hands stop wiggling, he smiles, satisfied.

Kylian can feel it; he knows you’re close, you’re squeezing on his fingers, your thighs trying to close, trying to squirm away from the pleasure.

He can feel your eyes on him, he reaches for the blue lace you’re wrapped up in and tugs it down your legs, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes. He shifts to lay on his stomach between your legs, leaving a trail of kisses as he works his way up to your cunt.

Your eyes meet his, he knows you’re looking. He wants you to look at him.

Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair.

Kylian knew you like the back of his hand, gripping your thighs to keep them in place as his tongue lapped your clit. Your hips buck, your way of saying you want more, he gives in.

"Please," you whimpered.

"What, mon ange ? Tell me."

You look at the man between your legs. "Fuck me."

There was no hidden meaning behind it; no scolding, no need to hurry him up - you wanted him and that was it.

“Gonna let me fill you up princess? Hm?” He asks, shifting to line himself up with your cunt. You nodded eagerly, your leg hitching on his hip.

At this point, you can’t do much except lay there and take it; not that you don’t want to because you do, you really do.

The tip of his cock brushing over your clit before moving to push into you. Your back arches, hips jutting forward to meet his.

Hard and rough, not enough to hurt you but enough to tell you that he's in charge.

Kylian wanted to hear you.

His hand now on your chin. “C’mon amour, let me hear all those pretty sounds you make.” He says, the angle you were at puts him deeper than before.

The slightest movements and you can feel it in your stomach. It’s like he can hear your thoughts because his hand moves from your chin to your stomach. His big hand spread over your stomach, “you’d look so pretty with a baby in you, hm?”

Kylian lets you fall back onto the couch, both of his hands on your hips. “Maybe I should fuck one into you.”

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, he could listen to you say it over and over again. You were close enough that you could taste it.

“So good for me, you take it so well.” He whispers to you, kissing under your ear.

“Uh huh,” you breathe, leaning back against him, your legs felt like jello under you. Your head drops back onto the couch, begging him to let you cum.

He lets you drop back, back arched for him once again. He feels you cum around him, the wetness covering his cock. It’s not long after, followed by a few sloppy thrusts, that Kylian cums too.

The tip of his cock brushing between your folds, spreading his cum all over your pussy.

He pulls away, smiling at the whimper he gets from you. His fingers replacing his cock, covered in his cum when you roll over, he sticks his fingers in your mouth and he doesn’t have to tell you what to do.

“Good girl,” he hums, watching as your tongue laps over his fingers. Kylian pulls his fingers away, leaning down to kiss you. A mess of the two of you, not sure where one of you starts and the other ends.

You lay there for a while, Kylian on top of you, your leg tossed on his hip as his head rests on your sternum. Your fingers drag over his shoulders, the man humming quietly.

"We should do that again," he whispers.

You laughed, "keep it up and we'll end up with a baby by next Christmas."

Kylian nods, kissing you. "Let's try again then."

taglist: @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @trentsfav @trentsmyfave @noturbabe22

#merry smutmas xoxo #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe smut #football x reader #football x you #football x y/n #football smut

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idanceuntilidie · 6 months

Text

I have no idea- I was thinking about this yesterday and today in the end I wrote it

chaos chaos enjoy and Im gonna go shower and mir mir don’t commit crimes when Im gone

Tw: slightly suggestive themes, yandere behaviour

Yandere classmate x male reader

Requests are open.

You know where to find me And I know where to look

They boy hummed, his fingers gently playing with your hair. It felt like the finest silk; just like he imagined. A small smile appears on his face,

You were so blissfully unaware, sleeping like a baby and missing out on lectures again.

He twirled the lock of your hair before cutting it off. His smile widened, admiring it, another part of you that he can add to his collection.

He never thought that he could find a boy attractive, but here you were, blissfully unaware of him watching your every step.

You stole his heart, ripped it out of his chest. Still beating, for you.

He laid his head next to yours, and closed his eyes. Your scent enveloping his senses as he slowly drifted to sleep.

The bell rang.

You sit up, mind still half awake, you stretch.

Your eyes widen as you realize the class is already empty. You quickly stand up, swaying a bit due to not being fully awake. Wiping off the droll, you pack your things, you hear a soft click and when you look up you see one of the most popular boys standing in front of you, phone in hand and smiling. His pale blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Hi hun! Look how cute you look in this photo!”

He chirped, waving the phone in front of you.

He fucking took a photo of you.

„Celeste delete it!” You desperately lunged at him to get his phone, you failed. He stumbled back and thanks to stupid luck he dodged your attack.

Celeste giggled like a child, correcting his sweater.

“Celeste I beg you! Fucking delete the photo” you begged, eyes glossing over.

“Only if you give me a biiiig kiss” he clapped his hands.

Your face twisted into a grimace, you tried to see if the two of his friends came with him to record this. You couldn’t really see them, but it didn’t mean that they couldn’t be here.

“.. Go fuck yourself.”

You grabbed your bag and rushed out of the classroom.

Celeste huffed as he watched you run out of the classroom.

He sat on the nearby desk, unlocking his phone.

Celeste scrolled through the new photos of you. His pale face dusting with pink, a shy smile formed on his lips. Too easy. He added the photos to his wide collection.

Scrolling through the photos, his smile widens. Some of them are blurry but Celeste doesn’t mind, every photo he takes of you is perfect in every aspect.

He sighs, he wanted that kiss. He bought the cherry flavored chapstick for nothing.

You walked through the halls and checked your bag. Few things were missing from your bag, you must have forgotten them somewhere.

You lost too much of your stuff already, you can’t believe you started being so forgetful.

At least Celeste didn’t follow you.

Finally you found a safe corner and sat down.

Running your hand through your hair you notice some of it is shorter than the rest.

You curse under your breath. Goddamn it, you feel like you are in elementary school all over again.

“Y/N?”

“Marceline oh my God thank Gods you are here I-“

„Listen, we can’t be friends anymore.” she interrupts you.

You look at her in disbelief. She didn’t even look at you, she played with her fingers. Her back hair covered her face and you couldn’t make out the expression.

Your mouth opened, to say something, anything but nothing came out. You felt hurt, betrayed. Marceline didn’t budge for a bit, you could feel her stare on you. Unfocused, hot and burning.

You felt dizzy, this was too much.

Marceline, seeing you had nothing to say, muttered a small apology and walked away.

You didn’t even have the energy to go and run after her.

You felt tears build up. You sniffed and hid your face in your arms.

Celeste grabbed Marceline's hand, she looked at him with pure hatred.

“He is crying because of you”

“Hm, no, he is crying because of you, because you wanted to save your ass” he says, giving him a painfully obvious fake smile.

Marceline felt her blood boil. She roughly pulled her hand away and before storming off he heard her yell insults at him.

Celeste smiled and waved at her, he pulled out his phone and stopped the recording. He will edit it later, it could be useful.

He slowly walked to you, you were crying eh? Man, he needs to take some photos! And God, if he could find your used tissues. Celeste felt his face get hot at the mere thought.

When he finally reached you, he thanked whatever was out there. That you didn’t notice him.

You were such a mess, sitting on the floor sobbing. It was all thanks to him, he smiled widely. His breath had gotten heavy, he rubbed his thighs together and took out his phone. Time for a few new photos.

#yandere classmate #yan classmate #yandere male #yandere #yandere oc #male yan #male yandere x male reader #yandere x male reader #yandere classmate x reader #yandere classmate x male reader #tw yandere #oc yandere #yandere blog #yandere x darling #x reader #x male reader #amab reader #male reader

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thetempleofhades · 8 months

Text

DANCE OF FLOWERS!

repost of one of my older fics that i had saved somewhere. I was and still am really proud of this fic, i still like it a lot.

Upon hearing about you, The Tsaritsa found herself eager to find out more. To see you with her own eyes. That’s why she finds herself in Monstad for once. She doesn’t want to be here, of course, but you’re more important than any of those she holds in contempt.

Laughter sounded from a crowded area just up ahead, and she went towards it. She listened to the tune playing as successfully weaved herself to the front of the crowd.

The laughter and music grew louder and she couldn’t help but watched in awe as you twirled yourself and the child you held onto, smile wide on your face. Your face flush red from happiness. This look was what she liked best on you. Happiness suited you better than the benevolent neutrality that people made you famous for.

Flowers were weaved into your hair, resembling the ones that bloomed all throughout teyvat. Flowers seemed to blood in her stomach as well as she stared at you, completely mesmerized.

You locked eyes with her and smiled at her, head tilting to the side before letting go of Klee’s hands and heading towards her. “Dance with me.” You spoke out, smiling happily at her without a single trace of fear as you grabbed her hands. They were cold, like ice, but you didn’t mind.

“Ah.” She spoke out finally, looking down at you and let you drag her out. She easily followed your footsteps and twirled you around without having to be told.

Venti watched closely while still playing the tune with ease. He was a bard after all. He knew why she was there and he didn’t want her hurting their precious creator, so he made sure to keep an eye on them.

“You dance really well, my lady.” You beamed at her as you held onto her hands, cheeks flushed as you still danced to the song that was nearing it’s end. “It was my honor to dance with you.” You smiled as you looked up and all kind of petals rained down upon the surrounding people.

You stepped back, letting go of her hands and reconnecting with Klee before turning around and heading off with Klee and Venti in tow.

She searched for you for weeks afterwards but never found you, so she went back to Schneznaya with hope that you may get her gifts and letters.

Every single gift and letter she sent was intercepted by one of the acolytes, except for a music box.

A beautifully crafted music box with the same tune that the two of you had danced to, and on top where the figurine usually was, sat you. Beautiful, kind, happy you with petals drifting around. It was a beautiful gift. One you fawned over to everyone that would listen.

“Your Grace....” Zhongli glanced at your pouting lips before his eyes drifted over to your puffed out cheeks and up to your furrowed eyebrows. “Please understand, it’s dangerous. We only wish to keep you safe.”

“Why would she hurt me? She’s been sending me gifts and letters! Which you always discarded Zhongli!” You crossed your arms, upset at the actions they took.

Zhongli’s face softened as he came closer to you and grasped at your hand so that he might press a kiss to it. “I’m sorry. I just want to protect you. I’m your loyal acolyte. I wish only good things to come your way. I should have consulted you first, my creator.”

Your face softened and a sigh came from your lips as you gazed at him. “I can never stay mad at you.... But!” You added on as his face brightened. “I want to meet with her! She sent an invitation to have tea with her in her palace! I’ll take Aether and Lumine! I’ll be safe so please Zhongli!!!” You pleaded with him, grasping at his hand, desperate for his approval.

You knew they only did these things to protect you, to protect your happiness so you always let it slide but you wanted to see her again so badly! You couldn’t stop playing the music box and listening to it with longing.

Venti sighed from the doorway before making his way into the room. “C’mon Zhongli! It’s the Honorary Knight and Lumine is just as capable! They’ll be perfectly safe. Let them have a little fun.”

“Alright.” He sighed as he agreed, making you jump for joy and hug him tight, repeatedly thanking him.

You were so happy! You had been waiting so long to see her again. Ever since that dance, you hadn’t been able to get her off of your mind. And now, you were going to have tea with her in Schneznaya. Lumine and Aether would be there too but you knew they wouldn’t cause any trouble, they were good people.

Oh, you couldn’t wait!

And that led you to where you were right now! In front of the Zapolyarny Palace with the twins at your sides and a bouquet of red carnations in your hands.

“You have to be on your best behavior, okay? No matter how much someone aggravates you. The Tsaritsa has been very kind to allow us to visit, so we must be kind in return.” You lectured them, sternly.

Lumine nodded her head and nudged Aether to the same. “We’ll make sure to be civil no matter who it is, right Aether?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry so much your grace. We’ll be role models!” Aether pumped his fist in the air with Paimon at his side watching in suspicious silence.

“Paimon too, right?” You smiled at the floating girl and she pouted before nodded reluctantly.

“Paimon will be nice.”

A snort cut through the silence as Scaramouche appeared in front of them. “Surprised to see you three, survival must be easy for you huh?” He smiled mockingly at them before it turned sincere once he turned to you and bowed. “Your Divine Grace, The Tsaritsa sent me to guide you to the tea room.”

“Thank you.” You smiled at him and ushered your three companions to follow as you knew they disliked Scaramouche and you knew why but you aimed to have a peaceful tea time with The Tsaritsa!

“You’ve come.” Once she saw you, the Tsaritsa smiled at you, the corners of her eyes crinkling up with it. “I thought you wouldn’t, you never responded to any of my letters....”

You rubbed the back of your neck with a hand. “Ah, yes. The letters and gifts except the music box and the letter than came with it were all not given to me.” You spoke and upon seeing the Tsaritsa’s rising anger, hurried to soothe her. “They’re just trying to protect me. Will you forgive them this once?” You pleaded with her.

“If it’s what you wish...” She conceded, not wanting to go against your will.

“I... um.... I didn’t know what kind of flowers you like so I made red carnations for you.” You handed the bouquet over to her and she smiled down at it.

“You are much too kind, come. Let’s have tea together. Scaramouche, lead the twins and their companion towards the other table.” She commanded and you smiled at the three companions.

Lumine frowned but bit her tongue. You wanted them to be on their best behavior. Even if it means being nice to....ugh..... Scaramouche, she’ll do it. For you.

Aether was working hard to hold himself back, reminding himself that this was what you wanted.

“Sorry Travellers, heard you were coming and made sure you wouldn’t have too many options. Must hurt your head to think all the time, huh?” Scaramouche remarked as he smirked and walked forward.

Aether wondered if it was too late to stop being nice to that prick.

Meanwhile, with you and the Tsaritsa, you both were chatting happily with each other.

“Thank you for the music box. It was lovely.” Hands clutched at the teacup in your hands as you smiled down at the contents in the cup.

“I’m glad you liked it, you left an impression on me. I wanted to see you again.” She spoke out as she reached out her hand and brushed her thumb along your cheekbone. “I’m happy you came to see me.”

Red filled your cheeks and you nodded fervently. “M-Me too! I wanted to see you too......”

You bit into one of the tea cakes, a pink one. “Mmm!” You made a sound of approval as you swallowed it. “So good!” You spoke before taking a sip of your tea. "I’ve never had a tea cake that tasted so good before.”

The Tsaritsa watched you with a fond look on her face as she pulled back her hand and grabbed the white chocolate tea cake grabbed a piece of it with her fork. “Let me food you.” She insisted and you nodded eagerly, opening your mouth.

She fed it to you and you made another sound of approval. “This one is good too!” You looked so happy and she couldn’t help herself but to learn forward and press a kiss to your lips.

A crash sounded somewhere behind you and you turned bright red as you hid your face. “My lady! W-W-W-” You couldn’t form a response to what had just happened.

My first kiss!

You could have sworn you heard Scaramouche cackling behind you as Lumine whispered at Aether to calm down.

#sagau #genshin cult au #genshin sagau #sagau cult au #sagau x reader #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin #the tsaritsa

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lixzey · 7 months

Text

to the moon and back

Once upon a time, there was a wizarding family that was powerful and mighty. Nicholas Selwyn was the last of their family, and he and his wife Calliope had yet to have a child—an heir to continue the Selwyn name.

Then a miracle happened: Calliope had finally borne a child. A child born of the Selwyn and Rosier bloodline, the heir for whom they have waited so long. On the summer solstice of 1962, a daughter was born. And she was given the name Y/N, a fitting name for a princess. Families from the Sacred Twenty-Eight came from all around to offer gifts and praise for the little girl.

Among those families were the Blacks. Walburga and Orion Black had two sons. An almost two-year-old Sirius clung to his father's leg, hiding from everyone else. While the almost-one-year-old Regulus was sitting comfortably in his mother's arms.

“Oh, Calliope, you are glowing!” Walburga Black praised the new mother, balancing her son on her hip. Walburga peered over the little girl that was bundled in a pink swaddle in Calliope's arms. “She's a darling!”

“Yes, she is.” Calliope agreed with a wide grin. “The sweetest angel I've ever seen.”

Calliope looked up at the tiny hand that was a few inches away from her daughter's face. Six-month-old Regulus had his tiny hand over the newborn's face, seemingly admiring her.

“It looks like Regulus likes Y/N.” Walburga laughed, beaming at her son. Suddenly, Regulus' smacked Y/N square in the face.

“Regulus Arcturus Black, you do not hit women!” Walburga scolded the boy in her arms, who had no idea what was happening. Meanwhile, the little baby in Calliope's arms was screaming her head off, her face red as her cries echoed in the banquet hall.

Calliope soothed her daughter, an amused smile on her lips as she glanced at the little boy who had just hit her child.

"Oh, hush, Walburga. The boy doesn't know any better; he's just a boy.” Calliope chuckled. “I think he just really likes my daughter.”

“Regulus has great taste, then.”

“Maybe one day they'll fall in love.” Calliope mused, a twinkle in her eye as she looked at the little boy who had his eyes locked on her sleeping daughter. Walburga laughed, shaking her head. “We'll see.”

June 21st, 1968

Selwyn Manor was filled with colourful decorations, bright pink and lavender ribbons, and balloons lining the parlour and hallway. There were beautiful floral arrangements in tall vases, and even pink and purple flowers have been planted in the garden outside.

It was Y/N's sixth birthday, and she was beyond excited. Her mother and father opted not to throw another lavish party, but the house elves insisted on decorating the manor according to their young mistress' desires. Calliope and Nicholas proposed that instead of a party, they would take her on a summer trip to France as a gift for their daughter's birthday.

“Mummy, how do I look?” Y/N asked, twirling around as she modelled the dress in front of her mother. She was wearing a frilly lavender-coloured dress made by Miffy—their house elf—that doted on Y/N far too much.

Calliope beamed proudly at her daughter. “You look enchanting, mon ange.”

The little girl furrowed her eyebrows. “Mon ange? What does that mean, mummy?”

Her mother chuckled. “It means 'my angel' in French, my love. This summer, I'll be teaching you French, alright?”

Y/N nodded eagerly, nearly jumping with excitement at the mention of learning another language. “When are we going? When, when?”

“We'll just wait for your father to finish up at the ministry, my love. After that, we'll go ahead.”

“Okay, okay. Can I go to the garden now, Mummy? I want to play with Miffy.”

Calliope laughed. “Alright, alright. Just don't get messy, okay?”

Y/N nodded before darting out of the room, the little house elf hot on her heels. Calliope shook her head at her daughter amusedly. Her little girl is going to get along quite nicely with the youngest Black son.

“Both of you shall be on your best behaviour for the whole summer in France; do you understand me?” Walburga reminded her sons, her gaze narrowing at her eldest. “Do you understand me?”

Sirius tried his best not to roll his eyes at his mother, but he failed miserably. “You've told us that at least ten times this week, Mother.”

Walburga glared at her eldest, letting out an annoyed sigh before turning to her youngest with a smile. “Do you understand, Regulus?”

The boy nodded, not wanting to get on his mother's bad side, like Sirius always did.

Walburga beamed at her youngest son, patting him on the cheek. “We are to leave eave at six in the evening, after your father gets done with business. You two better be ready to leave before five.” She turned to her eldest, snarling at him before turning and walking away from the young boys.

“Reggie, wanna go play in the garden?” Sirius asked as soon as their mother was out of earshot, a mischievous grin on his face. Sirius was often the troublemaker between the two, always rebelling against their mother's rules. Sirius despised their parents' belief in blood supremacy. It was a load of dung, according to Sirius, who loved watching muggle children play out in the streets in Grimmauld Place.

“But mother said to behave, Sirius.” Regulus hissed at his brother. Regulus hated it when Sirius got in trouble with their mother, usually persuading Sirius to go along with their mother's wishes in order to keep him from getting punished, but his brother was one stubborn git.

“Come on, Reggie,” Sirius urged, wiggling his eyebrows. “It'll be fun! We can pretend to have wands and duel.”

Regulus rolled his eyes at his brother. “If Mother-”

“You're goody-goody with the elf; ask him to zip his mouth.”

Regulus scowled. “That elf has a name, you know.”

Sirius waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. So, are you coming or not?” Regulus sighed before giving in and following his older brother outside. As soon as the two boys got outside, Sirius looked around in search of a branch they could use as make-believe wands.

“Aha! Here you go, baby brother, a wand.” Sirius grinned, passing a thin branch to him. Regulus eyed the branch in his hand. “Do all wands look like this?” He asked, his nose scrunching in disgust.

“I dunno, s'pose so,” Sirius shrugged. “Bella's wand looks like a wonky twig, though.” Regulus cringed at the mention of their eldest cousin.

“I don't like Bellatrix.” Regulus muttered.

Sirius chuckled. “Who doesn't? Bella's a bit...mad. Glad we're not spending summer with them this year.”

Regulus smiled at the thought of spending the summer away from London. It was going to be their first time in France, and both boys were ecstatic. They have heard so much about the Black estate in France from their uncle Alphard, who spent all of his summers along with his siblings in the estate. Sirius and Regulus could not believe that their mother was once a happy child, much to Alphard's amusement.

“You think Mother and Father will leave us alone in France?” Regulus asked, fiddling with the stick in his hands.

“They do it every day, Reg.” Sirius rolled his eyes at his younger brother. Walburga Black was not the maternal kind; she had no patience for things related to child care. She decidedly left it all to the house-elves to care for her sons.

“Right,” Regulus cleared his throat, “so are we duelling or not?”

Sirius gripped his wand and waved it around. “Prepare to duel!” He grinned mischievously, aiming the faux wand at his brother. “Jelly legs!”

Regulus pretended his legs had turned to jelly and stumbled around clumsily. Making Sirius burst out into laughter. Regulus quickly turned and pointed his wand at his brother. “Tickles!”

Sirius twitched his nose and looked around himself, pretending that he could feel the invisible tickles. He aimed his stick at his brother again. “Eat slugs!”

Regulus fell to his knees, pretending to vomit on the ground with a smirk. The garden was filled with giggles from the two boys as they duelled each other.

“That was fun!” Regulus laughed, trailing behind his brother as they carefully walked back inside the house.

Sirius turned to look at his brother and grinned triumphantly. “Told you.”

“You two look filthy!” Sirius and Regulus turned around, only to see their mother glowering at them.

“What did I tell you?” Walburga seethed at her sons. Regulus hid behind Sirius, who stood defiantly in front of his mother. “We just went out to the garden, Mother.”

“Kreacher! ” Sirius and Regulus flinched as their mother's shrill voice echoed through the house.

There was a loud popping sound, and the elf appeared next to their mother. “Mistress be wanting Kreacher?”

“Take the boys and make them look presentable. After that, pack their trunks for the summer.” Walburga ordered the elf before yanking Sirius by the arm and pushing him to Kreacher. Regulus whimpered, shifting under his mother's gaze, before walking to his brother's side.

“Keep them in line, Kreacher. We leave at six sharp.”

The elf bowed. “Yes Mistress. All shall be done, oh yes, shall be done.”

“Oh, for Merlin's sake! Hurry up!” Walburga screamed for her children. It was already five forty-five in the evening, fifteen minutes before the Blacks had to leave. She turned to her husband with an annoyed look. “Go get your children.”

Orion let out a loud sigh before turning to walk up the stairs to the boys' room. “Bloody woman, treating me like a dog.” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that!?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Orion quickly ran up, evading his wife's anger.

“Boys, what's taking so long-” Orion opened the door to his sons' room, expecting them to be slacking, only to see Sirius fixing his brother's hair.

“There you go, Reggie!” Sirius declared proudly, handing his little brother a mirror. “You look good, if I do say so myself.”

Regulus took the mirror and looked at himself. His curls were slightly slicked back, with a few tendrils hanging loose and framing his face perfectly. Regulus grinned, passing back the mirror to his brother. “You should do my hair often, Sirius.”

Orion smiled at the sight of his sons. He never had that kind of bond with his own brother. He opened the door and stepped inside, the smile gone from his lips.

Orion cleared his throat, making both boys jump. “Boys, come on. Your mother's waiting downstairs, and you know she's not fond of waiting.”

“Yes, father.” Sirius turned to Regulus, taking his hand in his. “Come on, Reg, summer awaits!” All three of the Black men descended down the stairs. Walburga scowled at the sight of her oldest son's hair.

“I said to look presentable, Sirius.”

Sirius smirked, running a hand through his black mane. “I am presentable, Mother."

“You little-” Walburga raised her hand to strike her son when her husband cut her off.

“Just get in the fireplace, Sirius, Regulus,” Orion sighed, shaking his head. When they didn't move, he lightly pushed his eldest. “Now!”

Both boys scrambled to the dusty old fireplace, Regulus gripping the ends of his brother's robes. Sirius had a grin plastered on his lips, provoking his mother further.

“Get a handful of floo powder, Sirius,” Orion ordered. Sirius turned to the pot of black powder on the side of the wall, taking a handful of it in his small hands.

“Now you must say this clearly; otherwise, you and your brother would get transported to the wrong place. Black Manor, Dinard, loud and clear, Sirius.” The seven-year-old boy nodded, clearing his throat before loudly speaking.

“Black Manor, Dinard!”

Green flames engulfed the two brothers as they were transported into a beautiful sitting room. The smell of wood and spice immediately invaded their nostrils as soon as the two boys stepped out of the fireplace. Sirius and Regulus were awestrucked. The manor in France was far better than Grimmauld Place.

It was a sight to behold. It had a grandiose feeling, as if it had been lifted straight from the pages of an old French novel.

The walls of the elegant room were a deep forest green, the shade of which had been carefully matched to the hue of the lush gardens outside. In the centre of the room was the focal point, a large emerald green velvet sofa that seemed to invite anyone to sink into its depths. On either side of the sofa were two matching armchairs, upholstered in the same emerald velvet. The cushioning was studded with silver buttons that shone when the sunlight hit them, and the legs were carved from dazzling marble. Behind the sofa, the walls were lined with large, dark wood bookcases and cabinets filled with fine silver trinkets and antique books. An old-style grandfather clock was tucked away in the corner, counting down the minutes with its sombre ticking. Rich tapestries hung from the walls, and Persian rugs covered the floor.

For illumination, several grand candelabras rested on the tables and were held aloft by marble pillars, which were intricately carved with rococo details. Each candelabra was adorned with five burning white candles that cast a soft, golden glow over the room.

A grand piano sat in the corner by the arched window, while a gleaming bronze chandelier hung above it. There were gilded mirrors on the walls with silver frames that gave the room an extra sparkle. There were huge windows around the room, with rich green velvet curtains in a silver pattern parted in the middle to let light in.

A place of true elegance and sophistication. It was as if every detail was chosen with care, from the luxurious green and silver brocade that draped the walls to the gleaming marble floors and the grand mahogany-framed clock overlooking the room.

The flames roared again, revealing their parents. Walburga stepped out and immediately screamed for a house elf.

With a loud pop, a small elf appeared. It looked better than what Kreacher looked like. The elf wore a tea towel around its waist and a huge green ribbon atop its head.

“Mistress be needing Dilly?”

Walburga turned to her sons. “These are my sons, your young masters. They will be spending the whole summer here. I trust that my sons will be taken care of.”

“Dilly will take very good care of her young Masters; yes, she will. Only the best for the heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.”

Walburga nodded curtly before turning her attention to her sons. “You both shall be on your best behaviour for the whole of summer. Do you understand? If word gets out to me that you two show anything less of what I have taught you, there will be consequences.”

Regulus visibly gulped, shifting under his mother's gaze. “Yes, mother.”

Sirius looked unaffected by their mother's gaze. “Yeah, yeah, behave and all that.”

Suddenly, the fireplaces erupted into green flames once more. Out stepped a little girl with long (y/h/c) hair tied in pigtails and bright (y/e/c) eyes dressed in a frilly lavender-coloured dress. She was clutching a white-stuffed bunny in her arms as she looked around.

“Greetings, little one.” Orion greeted the little girl, who gave him a small, shy smile. Y/N fiddled with her hair as she stood by the fireplace, waiting for her parents. A little while later, the flames erupted again, revealing Nicholas and Calliope Selwyn. Y/N quickly hid behind her mother, clutching the skirt of her robes.

“Walburga, Orion, it's been so long,” Calliope greeted, taking a step closer to the Black matriarch, leaning in for a hug.

Y/N eyed the older woman curiously. She had aristocratic features, high cheekbones, and full lips, making her look regal and elegant as she stood. The little girl tugged on her mother's skirt. “Mummy!” she whispered fiercely, tugging on her mother's skirt harder. Calliope pulled away from the raven-haired witch with a chuckle as she looked down at her daughter.

Regulus looked at Y/N with an unamused look, scrunching his nose in annoyance. “She looks like a spoiled brat.” he whispered to Sirius, who nodded in agreement.

Walburga smiled down at the little girl, which shocked Sirius and Regulus. “You must be Y/N.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at the older woman. She looks scary, Y/N thought before promptly hiding behind her mother's back.

Walburga chuckled. “She's a bit shy, I see.”

Calliope laughed. “Oh no, my daughter is anything but shy.” Her gaze then fell onto the two boys huddled in the corner.

“Sirius, Regulus, come forward and introduce yourselves,” Orion instructed. Both boys stepped forward, standing tall and proud.

“Sirius Orion Black, the third at your service.” Sirius grinned proudly before bowing, his long hair falling over his face.

Calliope laughed at the young boy's enthusiasm. “You've gotten bigger since the last time I've seen you, young Sirius.”

“My name's Regulus, Regulus Arcturus Black.” Regulus smirked proudly, bowing like his brother.

“My, my, such well-mannered boys.” Calliope praised.

Walburga beamed proudly. “I taught them well.”

Sirius snorted, making Regulus chuckle. Their mother did not teach them anything because she threatened them if they did not comply with all her rules.

"Y/N, darling, introduce yourself to Mr. and Mrs. Black, my love."

“No.” Y/N huffed behind her mother.

“Come on, darling. Introduce yourself; tell them how you love dressing up.” Nicholas chuckled, nudging his daughter from behind his wife. Y/N reluctantly stepped out, a scowl etched on her lips. “Y/N Artemis Rosier Selwyn.” She introduced herself with a curtsy.

“Sirius, Regulus, go ahead and kiss Y/N's hand like a true gentleman.” Walburga urged, pushing Sirius slightly.

Sirius grinned mischievously as he took Y/N's hand and softly placed a kiss on her knuckles. “I am pleased to meet you, my fair maiden.”

“Likewise.” Y/N gave him a small smile.

Regulus rolled his eyes at Y/N. She looked like a girly girl. And he hated those kinds of girls. His cousins Narcissa and Andromeda were like that, and it wasn't fun. The two older girls would always drag him and his brother into whatever they pleased. And it annoyed Regulus more than it annoyed Sirius.

“Go on, Regulus,” Walburga urged her youngest son, who scowled.

“Hello, Y/N. I'm very pleased to meet you,” Regulus said, his tone annoyed.

“Pleased to meet you, Regulus.” Y/N curtsied. Regulus walked back to Sirius, only to be stopped by his mother. “Ah, ah, ah!” She urged her son, pushing him to kiss Y/N's hand.

Y/N raised an eyebrow as Regulus' face contorted in disgust. He looks conceited, and Y/N wanted to punch him in the face just because of it. Regulus reluctantly took her hand, scrunching his nose in disgust before kissing her hand as quickly as he could.

“So happy you could come.” Regulus sneered.

“So happy to be here.” Y/N said with a sickening sweet voice, rolling her eyes at the boy.

“She's a darling, Calliope. Such a fine young lady!” Walburga complimented the little girl with a smile.

“Yes, she is.” Calliope chuckled, beaming at her daughter.

“But don't let that innocent face fool you. She has the famous Rosier temper.” Nicholas laughed.

“Ah yes, the famous Rosier temper.” Orion agreed. “I do believe we all know what that temper is capable of.”

“Ah, so you've been a victim of it?” Calliope asked with a smirk.

“Cygnus' wife, Druella.” Orion laughed. “Let's just say that I couldn't utter a word for a week.”

All the adults burst out laughing, leaving the children confused. Regulus perked up at the mention of his aunt Druella, whom he liked the most because she gave him the most sweets.

“I remember that! Drue was absolutely furious that you called her fat once when she was pregnant with her first.” Walburga snorted, almost forgetting about her manners.

“Mummy, can I go play?” Y/N asked, interrupting the adults' laughter.

Calliope looked down at her daughter. “Why don't you ask Mrs. Black, mon ange?”

Y/N scowled, much to her father's amusement. She then reluctantly turned to Walburga, with a pleading look in her big, bright eyes—a look her father knew so well.

“Can I please go and play, Mrs. Black?” Y/N asked, her voice sweet and innocent.

Walburga chuckled. “Yes, my dear. After all, the manor will be your home for the summer. Go ahead and play in the garden with Sirius and Regulus while your parents and I catch up.”

“Thank you!” Y/N grinned before running out to the garden.

Sirius chuckled while Regulus groaned. “What a total bummer.” He couldn't believe he was going to be stuck with her all summer long. Regulus was sure she didn't like anything that he and Sirius liked to do, like quidditch or playing in the dirt. She looked so stuck up, and it made Regulus want to run away from her. He'd rather get chicken pox than be in the same room with her.

Walburga cocked an eyebrow at her sons, telling them to go and follow Y/N. Sirius ran outside to the garden with Regulus hot on his heels. The boys spotted Y/N sitting on the grass as she looked up at the starry sky.

“Whatcha lookin' at?” Sirius asked as he sat beside Y/N.

“What do you think I'm looking at?” Y/N said sarcastically, not batting an eye at the two boys who were beside her.

“Ouch, venomous.” Sirius grinned, scooting closer to Y/N. “You looking at the stars? Looking for me, huh?”

Y/N rolled her eyes at the older boy beside her. Her eyes then landed on Regulus, who had his lips curled into a scowl, as if it were normal.

“What are you scowling at?” Y/N snapped at Regulus.

“Nothing,” Regulus sneered, turning his gaze away from Y/N. He couldn't stand her; just looking at her made him want to vomit. Y/N rolled her eyes, wanting so badly to just run away and never come back.

“Your brother's a git.” Y/N whispered in Sirius' ear.

“He'll grow on you.” Sirius promised with a smirk.

“Regulus looks conceited.”

Regulus' ears perked up at the mention of his name. He was conceited!? How dare she!?

“What did you say?” Regulus snapped, stepping closer to Y/N.

Y/N smirked. “You heard me.” She then turned back to face the stars.

Regulus huffed, his annoyance towards the girl turning into anger. He walked up to the flower beds and scooped up a handful of mud before walking back to Y/N and Sirius.

“Oi, Y/N!” Regulus yelled. As soon as she turned around, Regulus threw the clump of mud at the younger girl.

“My dress!” Y/N shrieked as mud splattered across her face and dress. She tried to wipe it off, but it was of no use. She glared at Regulus, who was smirking. Y/N balled her hands, clenching them into tight fists before storming up to Regulus and punching him square in the nose. Regulus stumbled back as he clutched his bleeding nose.

“You git!” Y/N screamed angrily as she tried to land a punch again. Regulus then pushed Y/N into a nearby bush. “I hate you! I hate you to the moon and back!” Y/N screamed at him, standing up and running back inside the house.

Sirius and Regulus burst out in a fit of giggles. That girl is certainly a spoiled brat.

“Mummy! Mummy! He threw mud at me!” Y/N shrieked as she approached her mother from the Black's back garden. Her dress was covered in mud, her pigtails were dishevelled, and she had twigs and leaves stuck in her hair. “Mummy! Regulus threw mud at me!” Y/N yelled again, tears forming in her big, bright eyes.

Meanwhile, the boy in question was snickering from behind the large oak door.

“The little spoiled princess got what she deserved.” Regulus grinned triumphantly at his older brother, who was trying his best not to burst out laughing at the sight of little Y/N Selwyn, stomping her foot at her mother and father, demanding that they do something about Regulus' behaviour towards her.

This was not her idea of fun.

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