#dom tangerine

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Loved the recent tangerine smut with submissive reader!

Can you please do one with same submissive reader? She loses her virginity to Tangerine after dating. Super passionate but loving and sweet. Ty!

Hey love!

As always thank you for waiting. Hope you enjoy

Warnings: sex, loss of virginity, slight panic, Dom/sub, sub space, after care and fluff

Original Post

Dating Tangerine had been an interesting choice. You knew about what he did for a living after meeting him in the middle of some crossfire. He stayed with you after to make sure you were all right and the two of you had found it difficult to separate ever since. 

He would call every night to check in with you and listen to how your day was. He would take you on absolutely perfect dates, just like tonight. 

He insisted on taking you to your apartment door as always. When the elevator door shut the usual tension rolled in like a heavy storm. It twisted around you and a thick flush crept up on your cheeks. Tan was never pushy, so much so that you hadn't had the opportunity to discuss your situation. You looked over at him and felt your face get even redder, your breath caught in your chest and all hope of starting a conversation died. 

He took a step towards you and gently took your chin between his finger and thumb. He tilted your face up to his and studied your face for a moment. Silently giving you a chance to push away. When you stayed perfectly still his mouth brushed against your lips. His mustache tickled but the sensation was long forgotten as he kissed you again with more certainty. 

You had been kissed before a couple of times so you weren't completely inexperienced, but this was a different sort of experience. There was nothing clumsy about him. He stood solid in front of you, his large hands holding your face steady. He was very much in charge, something that made you want to relax into him. You didn't hear the elevator signal or notice the doors were opening. He broke the kiss and you felt off-center as he removed his hands. His arm wrapped around your waist and you followed him out into the hallway. 

You unlocked your door with shaky hands. Embarrassment licked its way up your spine. Tan was a lady’s man something that was glaringly obvious but also something that Lemon had mentioned from time to time. Your head was spinning with reasons this was going to end badly. 

You opened the door and stepped inside. You turned to him and his hands were back on your face. He placed a soft kiss on your lips before pulling away. 

“You want me to go?” He asked firmly. With his hands on your face and his mouth so close you found it almost impossible to answer. You gave a small shake of the head and his mouth was back on yours. 

You stumbled back slightly giving him room to enter and kick the door shut behind him. His tongue was in your mouth and your body shut down further. You knew it should be like in the movies where you’d be grabbing onto him, ripping his clothes off. He’d pick you up and throw you against a piece of furniture. 

Instead, you let him take from your mouth, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction sucking on his tongue. His hands stayed there on your face a feeling that shook through your body. He was holding you where he wanted you, he was pushing into you, consuming you. 

You felt hazy and when he pulled away from you it took conscious effort to open your eyes. 

___________________________________________

Tan had slept around a lot. He’d gone rounds with women who hadn't looked at him the way you were looking at him now. Your eyes were heavy, and his spit was on your swollen lips. They were slightly parted as you moved your half-lidded gaze up to his eyes. He’d only kissed you and yet you looked completely gone. 

He fought with the urge to rip your stupid dress off and fuck you here in the entryway. You were flightly and he had left the physical stuff in your court, waiting for you to make the first move when you were ready. He realized that tongue fucking your mouth in an elevator probably was not letting you make the first move. 

Normally you got shy and a little uptight about physical contact so he had assumed the worst and wanted you to feel safe. Looking at you in the dim city light pouring in through your windows, you took a breath and he could see the worry bleed into your features. 

“Shhh Just want to look at you for a moment.” He said in a husky tone your eyes fluttered closed and your body relaxed again. He looked at you and wanted to take his time so he could remember the moment. “You want to take this further?” He whispered in your ear. 

You took a shaky breath and let it out without an answer. Concern shot through Tan as he looked at you. Normally by the time a chick was this far under he wouldn't ask her for anything or change things up as consent gets shaky. Normally by this point she’d be a few orgasms in. 

“You show me where your room is, love.” He whispered and you nodded. You moved slowly as if taking a step from him would cause you to shatter. You pulled him into the room and before you could freeze up he guided your body to sit down. 

_____________________________________________________________________________________

His hands rested on your hips and he pulled you down to sit on the edge of your bed. He knelt down on the floor in front of you. 

You didnt know if it was decision paralysis or just that half of your brain wasn't working. You knew you needed to tell him the truth, but the words were so far away. His hand came up to pull your chin down bringing your focus onto him. 

“I’ve never -” Your eyes squeezed shut as the words got stuck in your chest somewhere. The embarrassment had enough edge in it to pull you back to the surface. You took a deep breath. 

“Sorry, erm- I just - that was all new to me - I don't know what’s wrong with me. - If it was wrong or messy. Like I’ve kissed people just not like -” 

Tan looked up at you the corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. 

“You're perfect, love.” His eyes were so intense you could feel your sense of self slip away again. 

“See there it is again. You just -” You ran a hand through your hair. 

“That’s just how some people are.” He whispered. 

“But what do you want-” You started to ask. 

“No. We aren't doing that.” He said firmly. “I just want you to do exactly what you're doing, can you do that for me.” 

You gave a nod. 

“Good.” The praise washed over you and you realized there might be a very long list of stupid things you would do for more. 

“Alright. What do you want to do tonight?” His eyes were searching. 

“Sex.” First thing you had said firmly that night. 

“We don’t have to do all that tonight.” 

“Please.” You whispered. You wanted him so badly and for so long. He always left space between the two of you and on occasion, you wondered if it was because he might not really be sure if he was attracted to you or not.

“Listen to me okay?” You nodded again to let him know you were listening, his grip on your chin tightened slightly. “I’m gonna touch you all over, stretch you out, then ask you again if you want to go through with it. You need to be good and answer me okay?” 

“Okay,” you said in a breathy tone. 

“You wanna stop you can say so or tap me twice, okay?” 

“Okay.” You agreed again. 

He looked you over again and decided he would check in with you as things progressed. You were so soft and malleable. He moved both his hands to your knees and slowly moved down your legs to your heels. He unlipped the buckle on your shoe and was happy that you didnt try to help. Your mind seemed to only be focused on his touch. 

He got your shoes off then brought his hands back to your knees. He let his thumbs stroke the inside of your thighs. Every small thing seemed to set you off and he wondered if you could even survive taking all of him. The thought made him moan. The air left your lungs and he moved his hands up to the top of your thighs. He lightly stroked your panties feeling the wet material slide, soaked with your arousal. Your legs squeezed shut and you shuttered. 

He stood up and grabbed you hauling you further up onto the bed. You let out a little cry of surprise before your features fell into a look that made his cock throb. 

“Be a good girl for me baby.” He roughly pulled your panties down and threw them into the room. He spread your legs and tore his eyes away from your glistening core just long enough to catch the red flush that covered your cheeks. The rush of being on display for the first time. 

“Fuck.” He let out a breath. “No one’s been here before?” 

You shook your head your breathing was rapid and he felt a rush like nothing else. His hands ran up your thighs and felt the little tremors running through the muscles. He kicked his shoes off and moved a little bit farther up the bed. He placed the heel of his palm into the soft flesh right above your pubic bone. 

The sound you made ran through his body. He watched your eyes follow him as he moved closer to your heat. He placed a bite at the top of your thigh and he felt you tense in response. He moved his mouth to where you needed him. Placing a soft lick against your clit. You let out a cry and he pushed his tongue through your folds. Your thighs had snapped shut around him but he didn't mind. He would happily drown here. 

He moved to sucking and brought his finger up to circle your entrance. You were unbelievably tight and wet. He moved into your warmth slowly, making sure you adjusted to every sensation. His finger brushed against a fleshy spot inside your walls and you bucked against him hard. 

No manors, no sense of self. You were going to be the death of him. 

You were a complete mess of gasps and wet moans. He was half sure you were crying. He just continued to try and open you up.  Eventually the noises you were making were so high they were starting to disappear. Your hand was firmly woven into his hair, pulling hard. He sped up the pace and felt the most blissful sensation around his fingers as you came hard. Warm wetness crashed down on him. Your whole body contracted and he pushed you to ride it out as long as possible. 

He let you crash and moved away from your clit knowing it would probably hurt. Your breathing was heavy and your eyes were wild as you looked down at him. 

“Good girl,” he said ecstasy running through him at the look that crossed your face. “You wanna stop.” 

Your chest heaved and your eyes opened again you shook your head. “Need you.” 

“Are you sure? We have lots of time, love.” He lied, his cock was painfully hard. If they did or didnt he needed to take care of things soon. 

“Please.” You struggled for words but he didnt want to torture you any further.  

He took off his jacket throwing it into the same abyss as your panties. He started on the buttons of his shirt watching your eyes observe him for the first time. Everything you felt was always clearly written on your face, something he loved about you. 

He got off the bed quickly to get out of his trousers and pants. Grabbed a condom he had stashed in his pocket He watched you look him over realising that this was probably new for you as well. 

He got back between your legs and pulled the dress off your frame. He made quick work of your bra and enjoyed the sight of you there. Naked and open. Not even the slightest bit of shame or embarrassment on you. He realized that no one had been here to hurt you like that before. The urge to spoil you rotten overtook him. 

He leaned down and kissed you keeping you distracted while he rolled the condom he had opened onto his length. 

With his hands free he gripped your breasts. He loved the heaviness of them almost as much as the way you moaned into his mouth. 

He fought the urge to push into you and placed one hand on the back of your neck. He took his time running over the curved of your body before sliding his fingers over your clit. Your hips bucked and he kept a steady pace. 

He waited till you were a complete mess again before lining the head of his cock up with your entrance. 

“You ready for me, baby?” 

“Yes.” You exhaled.

He pushed himself in slightly. Realising it might be best to push through it then let you adjust. You moved your hips cautiously. 

“It’s yours.” You moaned and he pushed himself in. The feeling was enough for him to bite into your neck. You let out a gasp and your body tensed. He continued to work at your clit with his fingers. 

He gave the back of your neck a squeeze. 

“Good girl. Breath for me.” You took another shuttering breath and he felt the conflicting feelings running through your body. Your walls were clenching around him and he tried to keep him self-disciplined. He gently thrust into you and he felt your hips move against him on the second thrust. 

You gave into the pleasure and he felt you move against his body. He picked up the pace and thoroughly enjoyed how your body brought him closer and closer. 

“Tan.” You breathed and he knew you were close. 

“Hold on for me.” He grunted and he felt you fight your orgasm. He could lie and say it was because he wanted it to be drawn out and good for you, but really he just wanted to your cunt to squeeze him off. 

“That’s it - fuck - good girl.” His breathing was heavy and he couldn't hold himself off anymore. “Cum for me baby.” He thrust deeper and felt your body tense and collapse against him. Your walls pulled every last bit of cum from him. He watched you fall apart on him. The way your body tensed, the sounds you made. The way your eyes went wide and then closed. He thrust into you till your hand gripped his forearm tightly and your body tried to move away from his touch. He moved his hand and waited for you to relax before pulling out. 

Your eyes were closed and your chest was still heaving. He moved across the room to what he assumed was a little bathroom flicking on the light he was assaulted by the color pink and covered his eyes before he disposed of his condom in the trash. He looked around and found a little washcloth. He wiped himself off realising that a warm cloth probably wasn't going to cut it. He should get you cleaned up properly.

He came back into the room and let his eyes adjust. He found you curled up in a ball still breathing heavily. Perhaps leaving right away wasn't the best move. 

“Hey come here.” He said and he pulled you up. He ran his hands over you. “Gotta get you cleaned up.” 

You nodded. 

—________________________________

You felt like you were floating but also downing. Trapped under heavy emotions and feelings. He was there so consuming then gone, soon as he left the walls collapsed onto you. You tried to breathe and felt his hands on you. 

The realization of everything hit you, you didnt even talk about birth control. Your stomach gave a painful lurch and you clung on to him. Partially afraid of him but more terrified of the loneliness. He picked you up and you clung to him harder. 

He carried you into the light and it was too painful to open your eyes. You realized you were crying. 

“Shit- just tell me where it hurts.” He placed you on the toilet and ran his hands over you again as if he could figure out where he had hurt you. 

“I didnt ask about-” You took a deep breath and looked at the concern in his eyes. You were shivering and he moved away from you.

“Ask about what? We can fix it, babe. Just pee while I figure out the shower.” He moved away from you but this time it was easier knowing where he was going. You watched him naked, struggling o turn the shower on in your very pink bathroom. You grabbed some toilet paper and looked down in the trash. A used condom that was certainly not there before lay there. 

“Oh,” You said. Whipping your eyes on the back of your hand. He was here, not leaving your side. No bad decisions were made. Everything was okay. 

“I’m assuming you like the water at an ungodly temperature?” He said and you let out a shaky laugh. You pushed down the feeling of jealousy that he would only know that because he had showered with lots of other women. 

He grabbed you hauling you up onto your feet and you realized that your legs were shaking and that you had gone to the bathroom in front of another person. Somehow you felt you should feel more embarrassed than you were. 

He got you under the hot water and held you there. So many insecurities washed over you with the hot water. You hadn't shaved, or worn the cutest underwear. You pressed your forehead against his pec and let the feelings bombard you. 

“I wasn't planning on erm - doing it tonight?” Your voice got all high with uncertainty and you wondered why you were so awkward. 

“It’s my fault.” He said softly. “I shouldn't have pushed you that far.” His grip tightened on you. 

“No, I wanted you to. I just sort of forgot about a lot of things - I didnt think I’d feel so “ You struggled to find the words. 

“I’m clean, assuming your clean. Wore a condom. It didnt break or anything.” he said and you let out a breath that gave you away. 

“Thanks for being the reasonable one.” You said and realized you meant it. You fully just relaxed and he had done all the hard work. He let out a laugh. 

“Really - I just sort of laid there you did all the hard work and I forgot about condoms and I just made a mess of this -” 

“Is that how you feel?” He grabbed your chin and pulled your face up to look at him. You gave him a look and he kissed your forehead. “That’s how it's supposed to be, love. I look after you and you be good and relax for me.” 

“I didnt even blow you.” You said feeling yourself start to slip away again.

“Trust me it’s better that you didnt. Barely lasted long enough as it is.” He moved around the shower and looked at the various bottles. 

“Purple lid.” You said and he looked at the bottle. He squeezed a large amount into his hand and started rubbing the shampoo into your scalp. 

He was very cautious of your moods after that. He spent the night keeping you close even as you snacked in the kitchen he had lifted you to sit on the counter and stood between your legs. You relaxed into his presence and felt very well taken care of. In bed he held you close you slipped away into a deep sleep.

[oh-starstarstar]

Anything I Can Do For You? | tangerine x reader

18+ post.

WARNING: Dark Content—Kidnapping, Consensual Non Consensual, Being tied up forcefully.

Please proceed with caution.

You're kidnapped. Surely you could bribe the kidnapper with something to be set free, right?

"Now, I'm sure you're... decent, but you're giving me as much trouble as a Diesel. Stop your little tantrum, and get in the damn car," says the man to you, an expression of annoyance on his face.

You, in his grip, keep thrashing about, unwilling to go. "First tell me who sent you!" You yell out, kicking and flailing in his grip.

"Oh my god," he sighs. "We— well, you know what? I am not—" he grunts as you kick him, trying to haul you into the car—"I am not patient enough to deal with you. Tangerine?! Tangerine?!"

The man he's calling—his partner—is currently fighting off two men, while somehow managing to not look overpowered. He probably isn't, you think, looking at his muscles through his shirt. 

He glances back for a split second, then turning again to dodge a punch. "You— fucking hell, Lemon, you can't get her in the damn car?" 

"She's a whole zoo," he says as you keep kicking and screeching and scratching him, trying your best to escape him. "I will throw her if I lose patience,"

But you'd prefer him throwing you. It would gice you a chance to run. The thing is, you ending up here is a consequence of you getting kidnapped by a bunch of men, and then getting saved by these two random men, and—because you have no idea who these two men are—worrying about getting kidnapped again. Eventful week, it has been.

Point is, you know nobody and nothing here. No whereabouts, no 'why' you were kidnapped, no 'who' kidnapped you; nothing. 

As the fight presumably ends, the man with a long hair and a white—well, now drenched in red—shirt walks up to you, looking frustrated. "What's the deal here?" He looks at you with an expression of absolute irritation. 

Lemon only signals with his eyes to you. It's enough, really. You look like you are in a boxing match with the air around you. You are scooped by the other man, who puts you down on the floor, pinning you to the car behind you. 

"Now, listen here, love," he says, his voice threatening and low. The rage in his eyes makes you stop flailing around. "You're going to get into the car quietly, yeah? No more yelling, no more acting like a damn baby. Got it?"

For a moment, you're held captive by his eyes. Jjust in case you're not held captive by him, though, you open your mouth again. "Who sent you? Did you save me to take me home or to a worse—"

He sighs in complete annoyance. He looks at you with absolute frustration in his eyes, pulling you to him, opening the car door behind you and shoving you inside. "Open the door!" You yell out. You try your level best to break the glass, to break the door, but it's no good. 

Lemon throws the keys to him, and he begins driving as you still screech and yell and push in the backseat.

"Candy?" Lemon offers to Tangerine as he drives. 

"Cand— Oh. Good god," he says as he turns and witnesses you still kicking the door, its noise drowned out long ago by Tangerine, who turned up the radio to peacefully drive (though now the noises are slowly catching up to him). You are acting feral—and, really, why shouldn't you? "...Candy?" He offers again, with a more questioning look that borders between 'are you okay?' and 'you are absolutely not okay'.

"Fuckin' hell!" yells Tangerine, halting the car on the side of the road so aggressively that even Lemon's head almost slams against the dashboard. He opens the door on your side, grabbing your jaw and pushing you behind. With his legs on either side, his face right in front of yours, and his eyes flooded with frustration, he says: "Lemon, get the rope and tape."

Just as you open your mouth to protest, his huge hand is on your mouth, his legs digging  into your lower body to keep you from thrashing. "You just don't know when to give up, hm?” he mutters, angrily, hand pressing your head down while the other holds both your hands in one. As Lemon gives him the rope he manhandles you so that you’re on your stomach now, hands pulled to the back. 

“Who sent you? Where the fuck are you taking me?!” you keep yelling out as he tightly binds your hands behind your back, head pressed down onto the seat. You whimper, body twisting and writhing.

“Don’t you care about your safety? Sit still,” he orders calmly, as if you’re just having a normal chat. When he finishes binding your hands and legs, you think it’s over, so you let out a long breath of… relief? Well, not really relief, but at least his heavy self is off of you—but oh, then you see him unlooping his tie, and beginning to tie it around your mouth. “There ya go, darlin’, all pretty and quiet now,” he grunts as he tightens it around your mouth, making you whimper from the pain.

“You coulda’ avoided all of that if you just shut the fuck up, you know?” Lemon says, raising his brow towards you. 

Three days.

Three days you’ve had to stay with them—untied, by the way—at this small house in a secluded area. They’re here waiting for the men who will take you from their hands to whoever is responsible. 

Well, the funny thing is, you’re more comfortable than you are in your usual lifestyle. Enough food, enough silence, and a T.V. to watch whatever you want. No deadlines to meet, no demands to fulfill. Of course, you’re still scared and crying because you don’t know what’s gonna happen next—who’s going to take you, where they’re going to take you, you again have no idea. 

You’re locked into your room all day; it has no windows, no extra doors to get out, and you’re served food whenever you ask for it. But you’re tired, and you’re terrified, and you just want to be freed. After rebelling—yelling—for the past two days, you’ve done all but slump against your bed and cry the entire day out of frustration and fear.

Two knocks on the door. “May I come in?”

“Yes,” you mumble into your sheets, tiredly slumped against them, quietly sniffling. 

“Oh look at the state of you,” Tangerine grimaces. He holds a plate in his hands, leaning against the doorway. He walks up, sitting on the couch beside the bed. “Here, some food for you,” he carelessly throws the plate onto the table, staring at you.

“Why won’t you just let me go?” you ask, voice groggy and weak from crying.

“‘Think I’ve made that very clear, darling.” he grimaces, leaning back into the couch.

You lightly push yourself up in bed, messily trying to fix your dishevelled appearance. “What do you want from me? What could anybody possibly want from me?” 

“I don’t know, love. I’m jus’ doing what I’m paid to do,”

“I’ll give you whatever you want, okay? Just— just let me go, please?” You try to persuade him. You know it’s pointless, but this is the least you can do to tell yourself you tried. 

“Nothin' you can give me. Sure of that.” he says, beginning to stand up. 

“Wait!” you stop him. “Please, anything you want from me, anything,” you look up at him, biting your lip in anticipation.

“And what might that be, hm?” he asks, his face plastered with the same annoyed expression.

“...anything you want,” you say hesitantly, not knowing what you have to give, but hoping you can be of some use. “There— there must be something I can give you, right? I don't have a lot of money on me, but... something I can do for you? Please, just let me go,”

He huffs in frustration, rolling his eyes. Then he rakes his eyes down your figure, as if contemplating, still. 

“Anything?” He asks again, almost as a confirmation. He stands up, walking up to you, so that now he stands right in front of you. Now, you’re really second guessing it. He puts his hand on your jaw lightly, tilting your head up, “Speak up, love. Anything, you said?”

You nod, slowly, hands pushing yourself back onto the mattress to get away from his touch. 

“Oh, no. You’re not going anywhere now,” He says, pulling you in by your throat. “‘Been pestering me for so fucking long about it, why so quiet now?”  He asks, tightening his thumb over your pulse, making you feel light-headed.

You try to swallow against his palm, hand going up to his. “Please…” you whisper quietly.

“What was that?” he bends down, as if he genuinely can’t hear you. 

You try to pry his hands away, fingers scrambling to move his hand. “Can’t— Can’t breathe,”

“You brought it upon yourself, darling. Y’keep fucking begging all the time and look where it gets you,” he looks at you with a dazed expression, his face still stoic and angry, as it always is. He pushes you on your back, hand tighter now.

“Please— ngh—”

“D’you ever stop fucking speaking? God, it’s like I’ll have to shut you up myself.” He slowly begins climbing onto the bed, straddling you. “Do I?” 

With your head in a daze, you still have no idea. So you simply sit beneath him prettily, biting your lip. He slaps you—light enough to just tilt your head to the side. “You better speak up, love. You’ve already put me in a bad mood. Do I need to shut you up or will you stay quiet?”

“I will— I will, yes,” you gasp out, both hands still on his hand. 

“Good,” he says, and then gets off of you. He goes to lock the door, seating himself back on the couch. “Take off y’clothes,” he orders, leisurely lighting a cigarette for himself. 

You sit up, still catching your breath, looking up at him blankly. “Huh?”

“Oh, y’heard me. Take your clothes off. Weren’t you ready for just anything right now?” 

You’d expected him to smirk. But he doesn’t—he has that dark look in his eyes, staring at you as if he’s angry at you. He probably is, you think.

Slowly, you start unbuttoning your shirt—his shirt, technically. You didn’t have anything of your own to wear—your hands hesitant, shy to undress yourself in front of him. Now that you think about it, him doing it would have probably been better. It would have been less… humiliating. You’re no professional stripper, after all. 

When you’re fully naked, you bite your lip in anticipation, thighs clenched and hands subconsciously trying to cover your breasts. He pats his lap, signalling you to sit on it. You get up, walking upto him awkwadly, sitting down sideways onto his lap. 

His hand snakes around your waist, spreading your thighs. As he takes a drag of the cigarette, his hand tilts your face towards himself, blowing the smoke into your mouth. You cough, turning your face away, just when he harshly pulls you towards himself. “No, no turning back now.” He stubs out the cigarette, his finger starts circling your clit, mouth peppering kisses down the side of your throat. 

“G’na make you suffer for irritating me like that,” he says as he bites down on your neck, and you whimper, knowing he will live up to his words. His finger moves up and down on your clit, touch not enough at all. It’s teasing, slow, and feather-light. He moves your panties to the side, fingers entering you only partially. Then he retreats, going back to circling your clit. You buck your hips into his light touch.

“Look at you, so fucking desperate. So willing to take my cock, aren’t ya?” His fingers still work on your clit, his touch light enough to keep you just on the edge. He looks at you awaiting an answer. Unfortunately, you’re to focused on angling your hips the right way to get his fingers to touch you properly, though he moves them farther and farther. 

“Speak when you’re fucking spoken to, goddamnit,” he hisses, frustrated, hand grabbing your jaw and tilting it towards himself. 

You instantly nod, breathy moans of ‘yes,’ coming out of your mouth. “More,” you whine, body writhing in desperation and need. In response, he only grabs your tits roughly, hands playing around with them so meanly that it makes you whimper. 

“Ouch!” you wince, hand trying to move his harsh grip from your tits. “Please,”

“Pathetic fucking girl, aren’t ya…” he looks at you with amusement park in his eyes. “Begging your kidnapper for more? That gets you off?” he lifts you up, making you straddle one of his thighs. “Go, get yourself off, then,” he smirks, leaning back in his seat as he lets your desperate self go about it. 

You’ve never felt more humiliated, to be honest. With your hands on his chest and your cunt humping on his thigh, and your face heated, you whimper quietly. “How d’you feel about rubbing your cunt on my thigh, huh?”

“Feels so good,” you moan out, humping faster. 

“No, darling. I’m not asking how y’cunt feels. I know it feels good,” he smirks, pulling on your hair harshly, making you gasp. “I’m asking how you feel…”

“F— Filthy,” you say. Truly, you do, with the sheer desperation you are humping him with. You moan, getting close to your high. 

“Hm, thought so. Really fucking pathetic…”

“I’m gonna—”

“Go ahead, wet my fucking thigh,” he says, pulling harder on your hair. Your back arches, chest now at his face. His mouth was so filthy, his words were so filthy, that it made you come instantly with your head tipped back, eyes rolled at the back of your head and eyes rolled to the back of your head. Your hips slow down, coming to a stop, chest heaving with heavy breaths. 

“Did I say you could fucking stop?” he frowns. “You will rub y’filthy cunt on my thigh ‘til you’re crying. I wanna see those pretty little tears again,”

“But it’s—”

“Anything, you said, right?”

So he makes you come again, and again, until your eyes finally well up with tears. All the while he does nothing, making the whole thing much more humiliating for you, and as your thighs shake and body trembles you lift your hips up. 

“No, no more, please,” you beg.

“I said I wanted to see you crying, love. You’ve only teared up yet. Don’t make me do it myself—I’ll make you sob. Scream, even.” 

But you don’t. You’re so sensitive right now that you don’t even comprehend—much less respond. Your head is resting on his shoulder—hesitantly—body jolting.

“Fine,” he sighs, rolling his eyes. His fingers grip your hips brutally, moving your hips back and forth. He slaps your ass, setting a quick pace on his thigh which has you gripping his hand, trying to move it off. 

“Too much— please,” 

“I gave you a choice. Shut up now.”

Your thighs squeeze his, hand desperately trying to pry his off, “Don’t you dare,” he says. “If you try to move my hand once more, I promise I will make you regret it.”

Somehow, the threat makes you come again. He chuckles, hand still not stopping. Naturally, though you keep in your mind his threat, your body tries its best to wriggle out of his grip. You moan, loudly, hands grasping the collar of his blazer tightly. 

“Please,” you whine. “Can’t anymore, it hurts,”

“Will it take my cock in your mouth to shut you up?”

When you come again, finally crying this time, your hands can’t help but fly down to his to stop him. 

“Now, what did I say?” He suddenly stops. "What did I fucking say?" Though he sounds enraged and makes you scared, those few moments are like relief to you while you breathe and shake and rest your head on his shoulder, the sound of him unzipping making you look up.

He lifts you up and manouvers you down onto the couch, hand holding your face down. 

“Now, let’s see how much I can make you cry, yeah?”

oh this is DEFINITELY one of those cringey

"i don't have money for rent🥺"

"i can think of a few ways you can pay me😼"

but HEY i tried, maybe i will get better plot ideas in the forseen future

[lvvvyi]

01 : Tangerine ✧

CW : dom!reader ; gn!reader ; choking ; riding.

A soft material tightens around his neck, as he pushes his head back into the sheets. One hand skims around his chest, ghosting touches, raising his sensitivity. The other tightens the grip on the material, slowly pulling it back, making the air flood out of him.

Realising you hadn’t moved for some time, you grind your hips down onto Tangerine. His eyes clamp shut at the indulging feelings of your hole and the air leaving him. Though, it isn’t enough. He needs to feel more, more of you and more of these entices around his neck.

“Harder, dear…” He murmurs quietly, like a simple thought. But it really isn’t.

Trailing your eyes from his neck to his face, you tilt your head in confusion. The material stops tightening, as you loosen the grip and stare in curiosity. Though, you didn’t stop your grounding hips, ever-so-slowly chasing after your own high. He gulps a few times, swallowing words even, before replying to your silent question.

“Pull it harder, love. Need it so bad, lov-no, ma’am/sir, please.” Tangerine begins to beg for you, as he grows impatient.

Smiling down at him, you give a quick “sure”, and grip the material again to pull harder than before. Being quite careful not to mess up the routine below, you keep it taut, while moving your hips along his. He whimpers slightly, as his mind gradually goes blank, only the image of your beautiful/handsome self on top of him sticking.

[ 244 km away ]

[glamrockpiratesboner]

There is no Tangerine X M!reader on this godforsaken app so once again I will feed you. 

NSFW Headcanons

I have a strange feeling he’d like his hair pulled

It’d definitely be hard to get him to shut up, unless of course you put something in his mouth ~

He’s very big on swearing, even if you’ve only just got your mouth on him, he’s very vocal 

Poor things always on missions with his brother so he hardly ever gets the attention he deserves, definitely needy

He spoils you rotten with any material thing you want, so why not spoil him back with his own desires

Manhandle him, he deserves it

The biggest brat I have seen 

He likes pushing you so his punishment will be much harsher

Totally calls you sir, in and out of the bedroom

He HAS to be touching you at all times

Loves to touch the bulge in his stomach when your cock is inside him, it makes him feel so small  

[missy-0-piink]

Guys, I’m back, but not for bsd this time 😞

I’m here for…

TANGERINE

(From bullet train)

Omg guys PLEASE send me asks for him as a sub for something bc there ISNT ENOUGH 👹👹👹👹

[dirtylittlediesel]

niche sometimes crack ships i want manifest:

maria x the prince

maria x ladybug x tangerine

maria x ladybug as bffs who fwb

lemon x the son (slaps him to knock him out while rescuing him)

lemon x the wolf

the wolf x the hornet (hornet killed his fiancé)

yuichi x any twink

[jamminvroomvroom]

4k celebration

i want to see feral lando. dom lando. choking and degrading and rough lando. maybe a bad race, maybe flirting with another driver. weeknd vibes lando. rough rough rough lando.

heat.

ln x fem!reader - 4k celebration

in which lando fucks you until the sun comes up :)

i am. feral. there are no words to describe how unhinged i am over this, this is super self indulgent and i cannot thank you enough anon hehe - lemme know what y’all think ily! <3

songs to set the mood: earned it by the weeknd, novacane by frank ocean, heaven angel by the driver era

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, pwp with a bit of plot, choking, crying, swearing, overstimulation, neck? riding? (hehe), degradation, a slap or two, soft dom!lando, also not so soft dom!lando (he switches up a bit), just feral unhinged vibes

2k words

foreglow:

the glow of light appearing in the sky preceding sunrise

-

the sunrise casts a tangerine foreglow over your bodies, the bed, everything the light can touch.

lando’s slumped against the headboard and you’re sprawled over his lap, legs hooked over his, with his hand working between your thighs.

it’s been hours. he’s had you spread out for him, countless positions and locations utilised. you were paying for your behaviour over the race weekend, but really, it was all his fault.

he’d been too cocky, looked too good, the australian air getting to his head. you’d been glowering at him since you’d arrived in the land down under, watching in erotically charged horror as he paraded around looking, to put it simply, slutty. tight shorts, arms out, neck on display for all to see. his fucking neck. god, it looked so thick, flexing every time he turned to smirk at you. the heat rendered you delirious, and so did he.

and you couldn’t even think about that fucking daddy bracelet he’d been sporting.

you decided you needed payback, in the form of some carefully constructed, harmless flirting with everyone from the mechanics to the guys on the pit wall old enough to be your father. but lo and behold, it worked, and that’s how you found yourself in this position.

the position in question?

being fucked every which way lando deemed fit until the sun came up.

“you learnt your lesson yet, baby?” lando grunts into your ear, pinching your clit between his fingers.

your thighs are soaked, shaking uncontrollably, and your head has lulled back against his shoulder. you’re breathing heavily, your back flush against his front and he’s restless. you’ve lost count of the number of orgasms you’ve been pushed to.

“lan.” you breathe, eyes fixated on the bracelet adorning his wrist. the kitschy trinket sends liquid fire down your spine and you spasm as he continues to swirl his calloused thumb over your clit.

“that’s not an answer.” he tuts, slipping his fingers through your slit until he’s circling your weeping entrance. you’re coated with slick, some of it his from where he’d fucked you up against the wall a good few hours ago. “have you,” he kisses your shoulder, trailing his fingers that were digging into your hip up your belly. “learnt your lesson?” his teeth sink into your flesh at the same time he pinches your nipple.

you gasp out a cry of his name, slurring incomprehensibly, “yes, yes, ‘m sorry, i’m so sorry.” you sob. his chest rumbles cruelly with laughter and you’re hurtling towards another release, the overstimulation making it easy for him to get you off.

“that’s all you needed to say, honey.” lando coos condescendingly.

as if he’s rewarding you for owning up, two of his fingers sink into your entrance, sliding deep. the sound of your wetness sends your eyes rolling back as he scissors his digits in and out of you, speeding them up into a delicious grind. you’re a mess in seconds, slumped into him as close as can be. kisses over your neck soothe you and you feel the wet rush of your release approaching quicker than you can comprehend it. you gush all over his fingers, dripping down his wrist, coating that annoying fucking bracelet.

“there you go, baby. so good for me.” he whispers, slowing his thrusts. “can you turn over for me? want you to look at me.”

you pant as you wriggle around in his arms until you’re straddling his lap. you can feel yourself dripping on him, his thick length sliding between your folds. the exhaustion renders you languid, ready to let him do just about whatever he wants to you next.

lando cups your breast, stroking gently over your nipple while he runs his tongue all over his long fingers. he loves to make you watch, torturing you until you’re needy for another release.

“you think you can do a few more for me?” lando smirks, bringing the fingers that he’d just licked clean to your other breast, fiddling with your other nipple. he has you rolling your hips against him, inadvertently chasing another high already. he loves it, revels in how he can reduce you to this, so desperate that you’re grinding down on his cock, a wet mess in his lap, all for him.

“yeah, lan.” you nod profusely, your tired eyes locked with his. the early morning sun hits them enticingly, making them sparkle green in the warm light. he looks disgustingly gorgeous like this, soft and yours, resting against the headboard, curls spilling over his forehead and into his eyes. if you didn’t know that he was mulling over a million twisted ideas in his brain that involved resorting you to tears of pleasure, you’d think he looked adorable.

“good.” he grins. “not even nearly done with you.” he looks evil; your thighs clench around his hips.

without moving you off of his lap, he uses his strength to slide down the bed until he lays flat. he beckons you to crawl up his body, and you find the strength to wriggle over him, thighs resting on either side of his neck when he stops you.

“you gonna slide your pretty little cunt over my neck?” lando asks, wrapping his huge hands around your thighs. you gulp, staring down at him dumbfounded. “don’t look at me like i’m crazy, baby. you think i don’t see you staring at it with that special little look in your eyes?” he teases. “get to fucking work, i’m not gonna ask again.”

hesitantly, you lower yourself against his his skin, flaming red with embarrassment and lust. you can’t lie and pretend that you aren’t utterly enticed by this, that you aren’t leaking down your thighs at the prospect of sliding your pussy along his tanned, flexed flesh. the adventurousness of the escapade makes your legs tremble, nerves eating you alive, but it’s all worth it when you feel that first glide.

you curse out, loud and breathy, the new sensation creating lewd sounds between you. he’s obsessed, staring up at you in mischievous awe as you rock your hips backwards and forwards. you tangle one hand in his hair, tugging hard in sheer desperation, while the other hand balances you against the headboard so you don’t crush him. he guides your hips like he wants to die like this, suffocated by you and everything you have to offer him.

“oh my fucking god.” you choke out a moan, jaw hanging agape as you continue to slide against him. every time you move forwards, you feel the delectable prickle of his trimmed facial hair scratching against your inner thighs and your eyes squeeze shut each time, pure pleasure bubbling in the pit of your belly.

“you have no idea how fucking good you look.” lando rasps, digging his fingertips into the meat of your thighs. you’re so tense, teetering on the very edge. the strength he possesses, his composure while you’re sitting on his fucking neck makes you throb.

you gaze down at him, feral, and it does something to him, because he’s yanking you up onto his parted lips, burying his face as far as it will go. you yelp, collapsing into the headboard as he holds you down on his tongue, lapping up your mess.

“can taste us.” he mumbles into the flesh of your cunt, barely audible, but you hear it and it makes you shiver. you black out as your orgasm hits, your ears ringing as bliss courses through your limp body like a delicious electric shock. your nerves are shot when he rolls you onto your back.

“fucking heaven.” lando groans, crawling over you as he licks his lips.

he’s invigorated by the taste of you, how spent you are, and how it’s all his fault. you can’t string a sentence together, but you’re grabbing at his toned body like you’re begging silently for more, anything. he needs to drive into you, fill up up, make you remember that your little games will always lead back to this, the reminder that you’re his.

“you sensitive, honey?” he growls, hand sliding between your legs while his necklace rests in the valley between your breasts. you whimper at the sensation, overloaded, nodding. you both know you need more; he needs more. “tough.”

lando practically folds you in half when he fucks into you, giving you no solace in adjusting to him. he ruts into you hard, fast, unrelenting as he sinks deeper and deeper with every thrust.

“you’re gonna behave from now on. you don’t need to make me jealous for me to fuck you.” he grunts. his slaps your hip, the harsh snap leaving a sting that has you convulsing. “this is what you deserve isn’t it? whoring yourself out because you were a wet mess for me all weekend.”

you whine his name, sobs wracking your body. he feels utterly divine hammering into you like life itself depends on it. you’ve lost track of where he stops and you begin, stars behind your eyes that turn into butterflies festering in your belly. you’re so full, flushed beneath him, gushing every time he opens his dirty fucking mouth.

“crying for me, love?” he mocks, lowering himself to get even closer to you, his tongue finding your tears tracks and licking the salty residue away until you’re shuddering.

“please, lando, please, told you i’m sorry.” you plead, begging for something undisclosed, but it’s okay, because he knows exactly what to do with you.

“be fucking quiet.” lando coos once more, sickeningly unsympathetic.

but you can’t help it, whimpering out his name, begging for some form of relief, or mercy, or for him to just fuck you impossibly harder. how can you be quiet when he’s tearing you so perfectly apart?

lando doesn’t like being disobeyed, so when you continue to sob, loud and lewdly, his hand finds it’s way to the base of your throat. your jaw goes slack, wheezing at the intense rush you get when he squeezes slowly, and you can’t help but let go.

“fucking- lando!” you writhe.

“i know, baby, i know.” he shushes you, hooking your leg even higher so that he can bury himself as deep as possible.

you spasm hard, impossibly tight around him and he stutters, collapsing you both hard into the mattress. you hold him so, so tight as he cums, shooting into you. you can feel him leaking out of you already, white hot, and laying there in a heap of sweat and adoration. he breathes a laugh, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“are you okay, honey?” he whispers, kissing your collarbone.

“just peachy. a bit knackered.” you giggle, tangling your fingers into his damp curls.

“so, you liked the bracelet then?” he teases, nose bumping against your cheek as he raises his wrist to your eye line.

“i think it needs a clean.” you wrinkle your nose, thinking about what the beads had been exposed to over the last few hours.

“let’s shower, hm? then we can watch the sunrise.” lando suggests, sitting you up slowly.

“you’re gonna need to carry me.” your legs are still quivering.

“anything for you.” he says, hand over his heart.

-

45 minutes later, the sun is sitting pretty, high in the sky.

7:26am, the clock reads. the melbourne skyline glimmers hot with the rise of a new day.

you’re snuggled into his side, wet hair cooling the heat of damp skin. your eyes flutter, barely fighting the urgent need to sleep.

“you have no idea how much i love you.” lando caresses your stringy locks, pushing the hair from your eyes.

your bare bodies mould together, basking in the orange of the dawn.

“love you.” you mutter, brushing your lips against his chest in an open mouthed kiss. “promise i’ll start behaving.” you snicker.

“but baby, you know i love it when you’re bad.”

“okay, i’ll remember that… daddy.” you retort, a teasing lilt to your tone.

he ignores the way his blood rushes south, too conscious of your exhausted body - and his own - to climb on top of you and fuck you until the sun sets once more.

“get some sleep.” he whispers through gritted teeth.

you sink into sleep while he watches over you. the view from the hotel room is gorgeous, breathtaking, but why would he give it even a millisecond of his attention when he has you?

-

head? empty.

-

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @welld0nebaku @thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin @charli123456789 @ln4norizz @formulaal @carlandoxlestappen @cmleitora @pianor481 @costkappen @roostersluvvr

[crimsonbubble]

Scorched Tangerines

cw. nsfw, afab!reader, kinda mean dom joong, pussy drunk joong, joong is kinda pervy in this, voyeurism, recording, fingering, cum play, phone sex (of sorts), overstimulation, breeding kink, creampie *not proofread, just pure horny

[full fic vers of this :D]

Hongjoong knew he was gonna get an earful once the others found out where you were but right now, he doesn’t care, and neither should you.

The only thing he needed to focus on was slipping another condom on. He eyed the condoms he had pulled off in your earlier endeavours, feeling his cock throb as he recalled the way you begged for him. The condoms prevented him from giving you what you wanted, a dull heat burning in his legs as he denied you what you truly wanted.

Even with the thin latex of the condom, he can feel the heat of your wet cunt. Your body shook with each punishing twitch of his hips. Your body only got hotter as Hongjoong came inside the condom again. You whined as you pushed your hips back against him, pulsing around his cock. Hongjoong stilled your hips, pulling and tying off the condom and adding it to the slowly growing pile of used condoms.

Hongjoong caressed your hips softly, pressing a kiss to the base of your spine. He pressed his fingers against your throbbing cunt, gently scissoring you open. He kept a firm hand on your ass, bringing you to another orgasm as he continued to curl his fingers against your sweet spot. Hongjoong spread his fingers apart, watching how your pretty hole stretched for him. He chuckled as he listened to you whine, wiggling your hips in an attempt to get him back inside you.

“You want it, pretty girl? Yea? Want me to cum in my baby’s pretty cunt, huh?” Hongjoong sat behind you, eyes flickering between your pulsing cunt and the tied-up condoms. You hiccuped through your sensitivity, peeking over your shoulder when you heard him rustling around. Hongjoong pressed against your back, deepening your arch.

Hongjoong carefully unties the used condoms, peeking up at you as you shift in anticipation. He pressed a chaste kiss to your clit before he did something he has dreamed of just a few nights prior. Hongjoong pressed the opening of the condom into your fluttering cunt. You let out a startled gasp, uselessly clenching around the globs of cum being poured into your cunt.

Hongjoong emptied the other two condoms into your acing cunt. Hongjoong grabbed his phone from under the mangled sheets. He recorded the lewd sight of your sore cunt full of his cum, slowly fingering you again, making sure to capture the way his cum leaked out of you. He zoomed in on the way his cum coated your swollen pussy, taking his fingers out to spread your folds. He gently traced his fingers over your clit, smiling in satisfaction from behind the camera.

He plunged his fingers back into your cunt, missing your sweet spot on purpose. He quietly sent the video to the group chat with the other members, tossing the phone aside for now. Hongjoong sat up on his knees, tapping his leaking tip against your twitching clit. He wasted no time in pinning your hips down to the bed, drilling his hips into at speeds that you didn’t think a man could go.

Hongjoong felt his phone vibrate against his leg, snatching it up with a triumphant smirk on his face. Hongjoong pressed himself against your back, tucking a hand under your body and pressing against your chin, lifting your head out of the pillows right as he accepted the video call. All of their complaints died in their throat as they took in the look of your fucked out face, drowning in euphoria as Hongjoong split you open on his cock, “C’mon baby, show them how pretty you look taking my cock.”

Mumbled nonsense poured out of you as he pushed your hips against the mattress for more leverage. You tried to look into the camera but unshed tears blurred your vision. Hongjoong angled his hips up, a loud groan leaving his lips as your cunt clamped down around him. His brain went fuzzy as he finally gave you what you have been craving. Your body shuddered as more wetness continued to gush out of you.

Hongjoong pulled out, his chest heaving as a wicked smirk spread across his face. He grabbed the phone, flipping the camera to show the way your pussy soaked the sheets under you. You felt lightheaded and floaty as your sore cunt continued to pulsate and throb. Your eyes fluttered as Hongjoong parted your folds again, showing off the way more cum leaks out of you.

You don’t know when Hongjoong cut the call but you do know that you woke up halfway through the cleanup of the mess you two made. You gawked at the sheets, eyeing the puddle of cum under you and the soaked sheets. “Didn’t know you could do that, princess. But now the others are gonna want it too.”

[hoseoksluna]

STEAM | myg ft. jjk

pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x oc (feat. jungkook)

genre: smut

word count: 9.2k

summary: one video call awakens your neediness for two cocks.

playlist: steam / pinterest board: steam

warnings: female masturbation, mentions of shower sex, praise kink, toying with the idea of polyamory, a hint of voyeurism, oc rly goes through it and faces mental battles, fear, intoxication, punishment, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, choking, cum eating, manhandling, degradation, provocation, mutual masturbation, rough & raw sex, brief oral sex (f. receiving), pet names

note: IT'S FINALLY HEREEEEEE SKFDSFLSFJ, okay so—let me introduce to you a new yoongi series featuring JUNGKOOK oh my god. i am SO EXCITED about this and i wanna apologize for my insane ideas in advance... i'm so sorry, guys. nevertheless, i hope you like this as much as i do, i literally went mad writing this and i smoked so many cigarettes i lost count. please, let me kNOW UR FAVORITE PARTS CUZ I HAVE SO MANY AND I WANNA TALK ABOUT THEM. oh fuck, guys. ENJOY READING SDKFJSD. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

side note: btw, the playlist i made is literally perfect and depicts the fic wonderfully. you can listen while you read! <3

The scent of mangoes finds its way up your nostrils, heating your senses through its balmy touch as you rub the body butter over the damp skin of your arms. Fingers graze along your décolletage, tucking in the fragrance for your boyfriend to breathe in when he comes home. He’s out for the night—said something about his friend finishing his military service, so the whole group was going out to celebrate it. Yoongi was so frantic in his excitement, hastily putting on the first outfit that sparked his eye. Didn’t even touch his hair, only sprayed a mist of his sandalwood and tangerine-tinged perfume. Grabbed his phone, keys, wallet. Barely kissed you goodbye before he fled out of the door.

He didn’t even ask you if you wanted to come along.

You didn’t mind, though—you’re only in the early stages of your relationship. It hasn’t even been half a year since you’ve started dating. And you figure he deserves a night out with his closest friends because you’ve been attached to the hip since the beginning. Funnily enough, you no longer live at your own place. Somehow, you’ve settled in Yoongi’s apartment, never setting foot outside, save for your walks, grocery shopping, the few dates with your friends and work. There wasn’t any conversation about it; you just mostly spend your free time with your boyfriend.

And all you do is fuck, eat and watch movies.

The last time Yoongi took you out was during the first two months you’d been getting to know him. The realization of how long it’s been sends a trail of chills down your arms and you rub it away.

But because you’ve been spending all your time together, you’re glad to have a moment to yourself—glad to be able to take a long hot shower, to do your hair and skincare. Perhaps, you’ll even have time to do your nails and that energizes you, propels you to spread the body butter further down the rest of your body. It is your rose garden, these night times reserved for your hot showers. The place you go to—your hideaway from the pressure and nerves of life that the steam loosens and soothes, especially when you let your sultry playlist echo through the mightiness of Yoongi’s bathroom, your favorite singer’s voice reaching your veins like the growing stems of those roses; pretty, pink and so feminine. Yes, Yoongi’s therapy sessions and thick length might have been a great help, the best in fact, but there’s something about letting yourself be burned off of all that’s been weighing you down and watching it trickle down the drain that is just so satisfying.

It was all that you were once used to. That is, until you met Yoongi.

Showers with him are something else.

Something you never thought you could ever have the blessing to encounter. Showers with Yoongi are intense, so out of pocket that you find yourself thinking about them fondly whenever you’re alone with your thoughts. There, beneath the downpour of the warm water, he lets you see the other side of his ever unyielding stern façade. While holding you, he would make you laugh, then make you moan and break that sound with each hard plunge of his cock. Hair slicked back, smirk adorning that delicious wet mouth, causing him to look like a Mafioso bent on absolutely ruining you. He would tell you the most insane story he heard from his friend, then talk you through the build-up of your orgasm while continuing to the point of that story—seamlessly waving through, never losing tempo. “Then, he went up to his hyung to ask him about what he did—yes, just like that, honey, take it. I know you’re almost there, just listen.” You would come all over his cock, sprinkling him with your essence, right there at the end of his story and like a hungry man, he’d get on his knees and eat you up, muttering how good you are and how well you did along with each swipe of his tongue. Your lungs would heave due to the overstimulation, your legs would tremble, unable to stand and he’d gather you into his arms, fold you like paper into the crooks of his body and let his thick duvet drape over you. He’d fall asleep first, breathing in the scent of your shampoo, snoring softly behind you while spooning you, never letting go of his deathly grip around you. And while you would breathe in the haze of lilac sprayed on his pillows, you’d become aware of the drowsy rhythm of his heartbeat, the lift and fall of his chest against your back, the snug heat of his body and it would lull you to sleep.

That has become your new version of hot long showers.

And if it isn’t this, then it’s Yoongi letting you quickly wash yourself before he’d steal you away, dragging you into this bed, only to carry you back there an hour later.

You speculate he has a serious, adorable case of attachment issues.

That is why you enjoy your exceptional alone shower all the more—you haven’t had it in so long. Only this time, it’s quite different.

You feel him everywhere.

You feel him in the drift of your hand down your tummy because you recollect the way he likes to pepper kisses there on his way to eat you out. You feel him when you round your palms across your backside because you know he particularly likes to leave traces of saliva when he presses open-mouthed kisses there. His love for you circulates in your bloodstream, mingling with the little love you have for yourself, making it bigger, turning it into a turbulent rush of liquid. You sense it tapping beneath your skin, asking for more of your body just like Yoongi does, always begging, begging for more—for more skin to kiss and lick, for more sensitive parts of you to find and nibble on.

Your hands sense the ghost of him even when your fingers slip past your mound and realize that the film of your memories dampened your cunt. You hear the words of praise he’d utter into your ear at the discovery and you sigh at your tender touch. 

That’s a good girl. Messy for me. 

The rotund case of your body butter remains opened, forgotten. You suddenly have better things to do—like give your body the self-care, the self-love it deserves.

It’s a part of the solo girl's night.

A mewl comes out of your mouth at the first round of circles on your clit. Furrowing your brows at the pleasure, you prop your free hand on the edge of the bathroom counter, riding the pads of your fingers. And then, just like Yoongi taught you, you take your digits away, edging yourself, taking them elsewhere. You cry out at the contact of your wet fingertips on your stiff nipple and you pinch the nub, a spasm of delight coursing through your sensitiveness.

You imagine Yoongi standing behind you. Not touching you, merely guiding you, telling you when to stop, when to pick up the pace—when to fill your hole. Watching you in the mirror, hands in his pockets, having a perfect view of your slick-caked folds, of your clit swollen and asking for his tongue. Determined to make you lose your mind by teasing you, letting you only slap your pussy once you’re close. Your essence drips out of you at that thought, making a mess on the floor and you plug it in with your finger, fucking yourself steadily, inflamed by how slippery your heat is, how easy it is to slip the digit inside. Hot flashes close over your body, pearls of perspiration kissing the crook of your neck. You fuck yourself faster and—

A sudden ring of your phone jolts you. And the picture of your boyfriend, half dressed, with the early morning sunlight leaking over the scars and tattoo on his shoulder, crammed inside your screen, greets you.

You pant hard, your finger still inside of you. Delirious.

He must be on his way home. You don’t even know what time it is. 

Leaning forward, you hide your breasts behind your forearm and you swipe your finger to accept his video call.

Blurry Yoongi. The night sky, starlit and alive, behind him. A shoal of silhouettes, some lanky and some buff, all short-haired and all as woozy-lidded as you. The picture smooths into a crystal clear view and there you see your boyfriend, the nocturnal breeze brushing his ebony hair back. Not just him, however, but another male craning his neck to regard you fully. 

His eyes flicking from your neck to the smallest of your exposed décolletage, a smirk blossoming on his face like your imaginary roses. 

Yoongi slaps his phone face down. You withdraw your finger from your heat, a cacophony of giggles, whiny cries and the exclamations of his name emitting out of your mouth. 

He is not, in fact, on his way home. 

It is a warning, his low and strict call of your name back and, heeding it, you take your phone into your hands, so he’s only able to see your deeply flushed face. Device back in his hand, he’s not looking at you at all. As a matter of fact, he’s shooting daggers fueled with deadly nightshade at his friend, grumbling something that you can’t quite make out amidst the chaos and bustle of the outing. The shoal of the rest of his friends and strangers disappear out of the perspective, as if threatened by the cold energy. 

You wish you knew what he’s saying to him. Even your pussy aches to hear it. The principle of him scolding his friend for looking at you at your most private moment scorches you and you’re red, flattered and majestically horny. 

Yoongi turns his head to see if you’re well-behaved and you beam at him, the pulse on your clit intensifying, forcing you to say, “come home, Yoongi.” 

He chuckles, aware of the reason behind your words, pretends he isn’t. “What were you doing, baby?” 

The growth of your grin doesn’t falter. You show him the sheen of your wet finger in the ivory bathroom light, the glint, the stickiness as you push your index finger to your middle and pull away, your arousal on full, filthy display. 

He curses under his breath. Doesn’t give a fuck that his friend sits beside him and adjusts in his seat. Bites his lip briefly. “Stick it in your mouth for me.” 

Doesn’t say the words that so very often follow after in that sentence. Taste yourself. 

Why he doesn’t step aside to take this video call eludes you, but something about you being watched by two pairs of eyes excites you. Enough for you to do as he says. Perhaps it’s due to the fact you don’t know the male sitting beside him and Yoongi is letting him keep his sight glued to the screen. 

Two sharp inhales of breath. Not one of yours. Yoongi readies his hook to feignedly lash out at his friend and you press your thighs together to alleviate yourself of the unbearable feeling between your legs. Confidence, a bad, bad version of confidence suffuses you whole, turning you into a person gone mad by lust. You swirl your tongue around your digit, the tanginess of your taste causing your eyes to narrow, the principle of driving not just one, but two men mad just the same intoxicates you, as if you were there among them, drinking. 

A pair of round eyes peek at the corner of the screen. Soft, naive, so terribly innocent. A dash of sobriety washes over you, owed to those brownish effervescent orbs, a sprinkle shame pooling low in your core. A reality check. You sense some kind of stability of that reality beneath those eyelashes of his, the stability that whispers—is this the right thing to do? 

It’s not rough, it’s not stern, it’s not Yoongi coded—it’s anything but. Gentleness is what you detect, free of any prejudice. 

You sigh. Millions of thoughts about how you could toy with them pass through your mind, but you decide against them, the stability a pillar that blends into your spine, helping it unbend. You can’t do this; you can’t do this to Yoongi and you need to keep your dignity intact in some way, despite the fact that every fiber of your body compels you to do the opposite. You distract yourself by screwing the lid of your body butter back on. 

“Good girl,” Yoongi coos, causing you to whisk your eyes to the screen in perhaps disbelief, shame or your still pending arousal—you’re not sure. How can you be a good girl when you let another man see something so lewd? How can your boyfriend validate something like that? “One more beer and I’ll be home. Wait for me on the bed. As you are.” 

Naked. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks, to the surface of every part of your skin, dragging away small ounces of shame. You curse, mentally, running a hand down your face. Yoongi downs his drink without taking his gaze off of you, watching your reaction, adds once he swallows, “and don’t touch yourself.” 

And with that, he hangs up. 

The harsh comprehension of what the fuck just happened envelops you in a confining embrace, the precipitately increasing weight of shame now a burden on your shoulders that you just can’t shake off, even when you slink your arms through sleeves of your silky robe and welcome in the summer breeze coming to caress your face on the balcony—even when you burst your lighter to a flame and light up your cigarette, inhaling the smoke that you hoped would rid you of its such uncomfortable hold around you. 

You licked your cum clean under the gape of a guy you don’t know in front of your boyfriend. 

His friend heard the order. Don’t touch yourself. Yoongi didn’t whisper it. Didn’t camouflage his words in any way. Uttered them straight and bare, allowing his friend to hear them, despite the fact he almost fought him then and there for sneaking one glance at your moderately naked form. 

Question marks hover in your mind and the pulse on your clit cries, seemingly knowing the answer. 

Did Yoongi like it as much as you did, the aspect of having an audience? 

The wetness in your heat dribbles out, staining your thighs. You squeeze them together, the drag of your cigarette hard and long, expecting to feel your nerves burn off. You gain no such thing—no relief, no lifting of the burden, just constricting tangles in your tummy, zippy spasms of butterflies going mad, mad, mad. 

Perhaps Yoongi didn’t like it at first until he perceived the auspicious debauched look on your face. Saw the way you didn’t hesitate to oblige him when he told you to stick your finger in your mouth. And perhaps the fact that you didn’t express any signal of discomfort was the key to unfastening the leash on his possessiveness over you. 

What have you done? What have you so selfishly and disgustingly done? 

You hang your head in your hands, the white smoke intertwining with the burden on your shoulders and pressing down harder on you. 

That’s why he let his friend hear the command. Don’t touch yourself. He saw the way you indulged in it, and that awakened his liking for it.

Yoongi lied when he said he’d have one more beer. 

By the time you hear the thunder of his voice, all the roses in your garden have wilted, leaving faded, withered petals in its wake—leaving a path of your internal battle all around the apartment for Yoongi to follow. You’ve paced, your bare feet stepping on them. Tried to untangle yourself from the incarceration of your mind by chain-smoking, but to no avail. The only change that took place in your body was the decline of your shame, for you couldn’t help but imagine what could have happened, had you let free rein to your desire—had those round eyes never looked at you with such purity. You figured there wasn’t anything bad about letting your imagination be colored like that, and so you sat on your boyfriend’s couch, cigarette switched to a coconut-flavored vape, and dreamed.

You dreamed about those two men being of service to you, right here on the same couch, where they would lay you down and make you squirt over and over again, betting between each other who could make you come the fastest, counting down your orgasms until the number was a mere blur to you. 

The throb on your clit heightened to heavenly levels and when you emerged from your dream, you found yourself being able to breathe—your momentary disappearance tricking your shame into leaving. It was difficult for you not to touch yourself and you opted to adhere to Yoongi’s wish, not risking to feel worse than you already had. 

The war ended, undeterred by the fact you never expected it to. 

Loud swear words roar in Korean. You rise to your feet to open the front door for Yoongi and you discover that he’s not alone at all. 

The same pair of round eyes, the cause of all the ruckus you just departed from, meet yours, hauling you back there with a force. Your mouth falls agape and before you can react any further, Yoongi stumbles into you. You almost topple over, realizing you didn’t care to steal a glance at the state of him, but the male grabs a hold of Yoongi’s jacket and pulls him back. You wish you had tumbled over and the floor had opened up and swallowed you whole. It would have been less embarrassing than to be stuck in this situation. You want to run, you want to scream— 

“He’s drunk out of his own mind,” the male says, his voice deep like the warm wind before a tumultuous storm, fitting just right with the thunder of Yoongi’s intonation, his gaze wandering over the entirety of your shock-stricken face, taking it in; giving you the same attention that fucked you up hours ago. Yoongi begins to mumble something you can’t momentarily focus on, his hands grasping your waist, lips latching onto your neck. No, you cannot for the life of you focus because the man steals you all over again and you hate how easy it is for him to do that, when you’re far from being available. “Don’t ask what made him drink this much.”

Did Yoongi get drunk because he let his friend in on your most intimate moment? 

Humiliated, turned on and angry altogether, a concoction that simply worsens everything, you draw back from your boyfriend. You want to beat at his chest with your fists just to have some sort of relief from blaming him—because if you blame yourself, only doom consumes you. Why did he call you? Or, essentially, why didn’t he step away to take that damned video call? 

“Thanks for walking him home,” you say eventually, your voice smooth, despite the violence of your feelings, despite wanting to say something else entirely. Your first words to him and, wholeheartedly—despite it all, you hope they aren’t last, even if that possibly makes you a despicable person. 

Yoongi’s friend nods. Chews his bottom lip and lowers his gaze to the ground for a split second. You wonder if he feels the need to remove himself from this uncomfortable situation as much as you do because you can’t read anything in that paleness of his countenance. Not a hint of any emotion whatsoever, just blandness of expression, slightly dimmed by the few thick strands of black hair that have fallen from his disheveled, pushed back mullet. As if they did fight after all, perhaps on the way home, or wrestled if Yoongi was being difficult. 

You don’t realize you and the male are just staring at each other until Yoongi places his hand on your cheek, brushing back a wisp of your tresses. Only then do your eyes flick to Yoongi’s and you finally notice him, the gloss in his hooded irises searching and searching for you, the rosy blush on his cheeks, dry parted mouth and the dart of his tongue as he wets it, softening the flecks that have been created there. 

This is it. If you are focused on him, all things are made right—all things that have been stained get purified and dreams get turned into dust. This is the man you’ve fallen for, who puts you before himself and has done so every day since the moment he made you his. You can’t let anyone else get in the way of the home that your relationship has become, you can’t let your feelings flee—

“For the record,” Yoongi’s friend starts, hand massaging circles on the nape of his neck, the leather of his jacket tight around his arm. Your heart jumps and beats against your chest ferociously. “I didn’t see anything, if that helps you sleep better tonight.” 

It’s such a fat lie and you’re about to shake your head, but then he looks at you with such sincere regret that, ultimately, you choose to believe him. Just to keep your peace of mind unscarred. 

Yoongi tightens his hold around your waist, which grounds you, and a small part of you begins to bloom in healing, disseminating little by little across your whole body. 

A healer with big, round eyes. A good man. 

With a swing, Yoongi closes the door but you don’t hear the click. No, the light spills in from the hallway. Your hands reach for the doorknob but Yoongi blocks them and wraps them around his waist while swaying on his feet. He traces the shell of your ear with his lips, his alcohol-reeking breath wafting over you, and softly, you whine his name. Shuffling beyond the door, feet never entirely moving—the male is still standing outside and he hears as Yoongi hums at your call, as the sound grows into a groan at the feeling of being alone with you at last, at the feeling of all that makes you feminine under his hands. He hears your gasp as Yoongi pushes your chest flush to his body, kisses you harshly and cups your bare pussy. Hears the smack of your mouths, the pop once he withdraws, the squelch of your wetness. Hears as Yoongi murmurs, “you been horny, baby? Wet for me, hm?”

It’s those words that make him shut the door for you.

You made Yoongi drink a lot of water. 

And while he downed the glasses, you ordered him Thai food from his phone, which he now devours. You had wanted to change out of your flimsy robe into your plush pajamas, but Yoongi stopped you with a tight grip on your shoulder and with the nastiest puppy eyes he could manage, considering his plastered state, he begged you not to. Informed you that he wanted to fuck you in your little robe and you told him that if he wanted that, he needed to get sober. 

He’s your boyfriend and you trust him, but you don’t feel comfortable having sex with him while he’s wasted and you’re not. It’s a dangerous territory you don’t ever want to cross. 

So, now he eats as quietly as a mouse, feeding you every other bite with his chopsticks, meanwhile you’re jittering your leg with your arms crossed across your chest, mind full of the male who walked him home. Of the way he pulled you under and resurfaced with you soon after. Of the calm peace you feel all over the perimeter of your mind that peculiarly stresses you out. Of what would happen if you voiced your little dream to Yoongi, especially. 

Was it out of the question or would he consider it? 

Your leg jitters harder. 

You want to tell him, badly. Seeing his friend in real life changed fucking everything. If you hadn’t, you would’ve forgotten about it in the days to come. Yoongi would’ve fucked it out of you in most probability. But those eyes… those eyes got under your skin. 

“Stop fidgeting,” Yoongi scolds with his mouth full of food, no hint of slurring. The hot meal and hydration worked a miracle. “You’re making me nervous.” 

He picks up two cut pieces of chicken with his chopsticks and stuffs your mouth, adding a few pieces of vegetables as you’re chewing. Watches you swallow it, noticing how your eyes are focused on nothing in particular on the other side of the room. Tucking his utensils under his palm, he places his hand on your thigh, halting your restless motion. 

You still won’t look at him. Too lost in the overthinking maze, debating whether you should speak or remain quiet about your desire. A strong part of you fears his reaction and the other half is horrified at the possibility of being turned down—

Yoongi takes his hand away. Props it on his cheek. 

“I can see your pussy from here,” he says, licking his lips. “You’ve shaved?” 

You breathe a soft laugh, turning your head to face him, covering yourself with the small fabric. Dark, but tender eyes, void of any glossiness, awake and stirred—amused. Cheeks awash with color. Lips puffy, a dark tinge of red coating them. A sturdy fist on his cheek, the milky jawline underneath. That messy hair, the slicked-back look ruined by the constant rake of his fingers through them, now falling to the side from the middle. That slender body, clad in the night from head to toe—legs outstretched under the table. So fine, so delicious. A beautiful strong man—all yours. Why do you want another one? 

You slide your leg across his thighs and Yoongi slouches in his seat, discarding his chopsticks. 

“I shaved everything,” you respond, cocking your brow at him—a sly invitation for him to feel its smoothness. 

And he does. Runs his hand up and down your skin. Goes as far as lifting your other leg onto his lap, cradling them both, thumb caressing your calf. The movement causes your robe to expose you again and, cursing the fabric, you go to cover yourself, but Yoongi stops you. 

“Don’t bother,” he mutters. “I wanna look at it.” 

You raise your brows altogether, looking up at him. “You wanna look at her?” 

Yoongi smirks. That dangerous tug of one corner of his mouth to the side. Your death, your undoing, the root of your submission to him. “I want to have her at my disposal.”

You gulp and Yoongi catches it, chuckling. Drifts his hand down your calf, to your heel, to the middle of your foot up to your toes. He plays with your pinky. You note the fact he changed the pronoun after you did. 

Your arousal returns at full speed.

“Did that make you wet?” Low, low is his voice—you feel it prodding at your core, thrumming vehemently. 

You blossom like your roses, thoughts put to the side. 

“I’ve been wet this entire time,” you say, zeroing in your gaze on the flick of dimness that whirls past his eyes. “For hours.” 

He makes a sound of pitiful nature. “Poor baby.” Furrows his brows and juts his bottom lip out, making you weak. Lets his hand roam on your thigh. “So you listened? You didn’t touch yourself?” 

You merely nod your head quickly. You were too distressed to give your body the pleasure it sought. Too busy flaring your lungs with the burn of smoke. And you respected his wish enough to keep your hands to yourself. 

Yoongi coos. “Good girl.” 

A flashback—your lips wrapping around your slick-coated finger, Yoongi praising you and… another pair of eyes watching. Chills spread across your arms, your stomach flipping. Thankfully, your shame is kept at bay. It relieves you. 

“Can I feel how wet you are?” 

A sweet, devious smile. “If you can manage to get to her.” 

You press your thighs tightly together. Yoongi looks at you as if you’ve greatly offended him and alas, he turns your chair so you face him head-on. Forces your thighs apart without any strain at all—and there you feel it, the embarrassment of fucking with him, once your pussy is at complete disposal to him just like he wanted. 

“If your pussy wasn’t so pretty, I’d make you regret your words,” he purrs, eyes fixed on your drenched flesh, hands pushing your thighs back until your knees are at level with your shoulders, folds parting with the movement, revealing more of you. Yoongi wets his mouth with his tongue. 

He thumbs your gleaming lips back and forth, collecting your essence, mesmerized by them. Looks at you intently. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to say sorry, though,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. “Would it?” 

You grin at him. “Sorry, Yoongi.” 

He rubs your swollen clit in slow circles, still with his bedewed thumb, still with his eyes on you. You choke out a moan at the delight permeating through your being. “That’s not the proper way to apologize, now is it?”

You lean your pelvis into his touch, a natural body reaction unfolding. He disapproves. You scrunch your face. “What should I say?” 

Yoongi tuts. “I’m barely touching you and you already forgot your manners?” 

The only answer you emit is an uncouth whine. 

He shakes his head, putting pressure into his circles for a mere beat of time before he slaps your pussy curtly. A vivid spasm of pleasure fills you and you moan. “Needy girl. Don’t I take care of this pussy enough? What’s this behavior?” 

Another whine. A roll of your body, asking for more of his touch. “Spank her again.” 

A cock of his brow. Harsh, stern, evil. His hand remains propped on his thigh, shoulders hunched. “I didn’t hear you say please. You wanna be bad? You want me to make you cry?” 

You know just how much he’s capable of doing that. You shake your head ‘no’. You want gentleness, the kind you saw in his friend’s eyes—

You flutter your own shut to get rid of that thought. Take a deep breath. 

“Spank my pussy again, please.” 

Yoongi massages the apex of your thigh, dangerously close to your cunt, squeezing the flesh every once in a while. 

“Apologize first.” 

“You didn’t tell me how.” 

He clicks his tongue and pinches your folds and your clit between his fingers. You cry out, and then Yoongi gets up to his feet, leaning over you, propping his hand on the back of your chair. He begins to swiftly spank your pussy over and over again. You just jump at every contact, moaning, eyes flicked to his, never breaking apart. Taking it, taking it so well that Yoongi kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Then, he grunts. Fingers flat against your clit, he moves them from side to side. Roses, a myriad of them, flood your form with their freshness and dewiness, with their beauty and delectation and you shudder, you scream, you arch your back off of the backrest—

“Say, ‘I’m sorry, Yoongi. I’m such a bad girl that I deserve every spank and I’ll take it until it hurts.” 

Flabbergasted and horny beyond measure, your mouth falls agape. Your brain turns into mush, the pleasure paralyzing you, your sounds now loud and obscene, the roses in you flitting, growing and murmuring. Yoongi adds more pressure to your clit and your eyes sink back into your head, his darkness wafting over to you, seeping into your skin—now completely yours. 

You repeat after him—word for word. With a simper on your face that causes him to scowl at you, as if you dared to toy with your punishment he bestowed upon you. But then, a tongue prods the inside of his cheek and he laughs, taking a hold of his dominant role and making sure you know. He spanks your clit twice in a row, hands lifting to fondle your nipples. 

“Good,” he praises. “You like that, don’t you? Spanks on your pussy?”

You don’t like that softness. Like the personified thunder he is, it is the calm before the storm. It unnerves you, the expectation of what might come next and your disliking of it. Nonetheless, you brim with the craving to have his fingers inside of you. Your hole clenches at that and Yoongi notices, hissing under his breath. The language of the darkness rises on your tongue and you figure that if you let loose, you’ll get your wish fulfilled.

“Yeah, it feels so good—” He pinches your nipples between his knuckles and you mewl, your lashes shaking at the impact, another set of wetness coating your folds. “Please, fuck me with your fi—”

You don’t even get to finish your sentence. Yoongi plunges his middle finger into your heat, cursing at your tightness, at how slippery you are and at the delight of being filled at last, you knit your brows. With his other finger, he traces the outline of your puckered mouth, his breathing hard and ragged. 

“I’ll do anything for that pout of yours, fuck, no matter if you deserve it or not,” he utters, slipping the digit inside. Instinctively, you suck on it and only then does Yoongi begin to pump you slowly. “You just need a little roughness to be good, don’t you?” 

Dumbly, you nod, swirling your tongue around him, but a faint, silenced part of you begs for the gentleness that you know hides somewhere deep inside his chest, never once unfurled during such intimate times. 

You pay it no matter, too fucked out to think. 

When he adds a second finger into your heat, he does the same thing with his other hand. Two fingers in your cunt, two fingers in your mouth. And he fucks you with both until you gag and a light flashes in his eyes—then, he withdraws all together, leaning against the table, his bedewed fingers coming to rest at his hardened length in his pants. 

Roses, opening. Roses, sighing. 

You breathe heavily, needing to finish, needing to have him in your mouth—

“You liked being the center of attention today?” he husks, surveying your whole body, bent in half. 

There it is—the storm. Just what you expected. Cold sweat dribbles down your spine. And it is fear, what you feel, even when you refuse to admit it. Stiff, tempered fear that pervades each and every vein on your body, regarding being possibly degraded, being made feel dirty—regarding, even, tasting the dark wine of his wrath. 

Such a stark, sudden change. 

You don’t want this. You don’t want any of it.

Abruptly, an internal question comes and pokes you in the middle of your forehead.

Will you succumb to it or will you, with the wildly fresh darkness within you, fight against it?

You take a deep breath, and in with the air also follows, with the little rationality you have amidst the sensuality of your lecherous appetite, the decision to take a hold of it all. To take charge. Just like he did.

You shall prioritize yourself. Your feelings, your desires—your roses.

Your choice envelops your fear in bubble wrap. It doesn’t dissipate. And as much as it pains you, you take a mental note of that. 

“I did,” you spit out, angered by the fact you’re afraid of your boyfriend, and so you stand your ground. “It made me so fucking needy and I want more.” 

The relief that hits you almost causes you to weep and you lower your legs to the ground. Not wanting him to see the film of tears clouding your eyes, you avoid his gaze. Yoongi crosses his arms across his chest and clicks his tongue at you, disapproving. 

“Keep your legs where they belong.” 

“No.”

A lift of his brow. He crouches down to your level and cradles your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him. And there he sees, under the waterfall of your hair, your emotions at his disposal. Yoongi studies you, frowns at you and you want to sob, you want to go home. Shame slithers towards your spine like a ghost, and although it keeps a distance, you feel its presence prickling your back. You cover your cleavage. 

“Why are you crying?” Yoongi asks, a silky murmur, eyes flicking between yours. His fingers don’t caress your skin; they merely hold you firmly, making dents in the skin. 

You don’t trust that voice, dismayed by what might lie under. 

“Why did you do that to me?” you ask in return, and it’s a blue fire shooting out, engulfing the room in stifling heat. You catch a glimpse of its sparks in the dimness of his eyes, of how he’s momentarily stricken by it before it folds beneath the shadows.

“You want to get fucked by someone else?” 

A question for a question. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat, caused by your frustration. 

Your devotion to him didn’t let you go as far as to imagine being fucked by his friend while Yoongi watched, but the brief flash of it in your mind is enough incentive for the heat to spill into you, mingling with the darkness, turning you candescent, traveling through you until it finds your core—and there, it stays. There, it finds home. 

The pulse on your clit returns, filling you with abrupt energy. 

There’s something about him coming up with it that makes you unhinged, but you’re so utterly sick of the instability of your feelings. You need it to stop.

“And what if I do?” you retort. “What will you do?” 

Truthfulness, at last.

Yoongi takes in a sharp inhale of breath, and that is the only reaction you receive from him. Nothing else on his face flickers; no wrath, no sliver of jealousy, not one thing. You stare at an empty canvas, ready for you to paint on. And you simply decide that you want to start. 

You push his hand away from your face. Stand up to your feet. But the hardened look he gives you inclines you to sit back down. 

You fight against it. 

Untangling the knot on your robe, you let him see your bare femininity. The perkiness of your breasts, the long dip of your stomach that he likes to pepper kisses on. Yes, you’re aiming for his weakness. 

And you decide to repeat history. 

You reach your hand down, lower and lower while he stares you down, and you collect your glimmering essence. Sinking your finger into your mouth, you make a show of rolling your eyes back and moaning faintly, softly. Your other hand, in the meantime, unbuttons his pants. 

The breath Yoongi inhaled hitches in his throat. 

“Is this not evidence enough?” you purr, dragging down his zipper. “How else am I supposed to show you?” 

You pull his manhood out as you suck on your finger, all while maintaining eye contact. You don’t touch him beyond that. In fact, you withdraw your hand altogether. 

And then, you collect your essence again. 

This time, you smear it across his bottom lip. Yoongi lets you. Your heart thuds, threatening to jump out of your chest. 

“Your actions during the video call told me everything,” you whisper, catching the sliver of wooziness scattering along his narrowed eyes. “And I think you liked it more than me—the thought of sharing me. You can’t hide it. Not when I saw it.” 

Yoongi growls. Then, he surprises you. 

He parts his lips for you. 

And the contact of the pad of your finger with his wet tongue coaxes a string of your dewiness to drip down the side of your thigh. You moan for him. Relieved, fucked up, woozy just the same. Finally, finally, finally. 

You’re in charge. And it feels divine. 

His length twitches against the fabric of his T-shirt. Long, hard, drooling. Such a delight for you—and so you continue. 

“I also think it made you hard. Not just because you called me when I was touching myself, but because your friend was right there beside you,” you purr, your voice a seductive sound of silk—leading him to wrap his lips around your digit. You moan for him, showing him how much you like that. “Isn’t that right, baby?” Your walls clench at the pet name, solely due to the fact that these soft terms of endearment have always been addressed to you, never the other way around. It thrills you. “I’d always be devoted to you, even if he fucked me. I’d look at you the entire time. If that’s what you want. I had a different idea, but yours is just—” you pause, and again you make a show of sighing and rolling your eyes back, “better.” 

A straight hit to his core. A glee for you. 

But you don’t realize how much you fucked up until Yoongi grips your waist and the hold hurts enough that you wince. 

And then—then he manhandles you. 

Lifting you and laying you down on the table, Yoongi spreads your legs. Watches you drip, watches as the satiny fabric follows the movement of your limbs and reveals you in all your entirety. He pulls you closer to him with a sharp tug until you collide with the tops of his thighs. Bends over you. Hovers his lips above yours. You expect him to kiss you—he even angles his head and rubs the side of his nose against yours—but he never does. 

He only leaves you waiting. Leaves you submitted to your empty expectations, taking charge, taking his control back from you. You shiver in anticipation, reaching for him, however he pins your hands down on either side of you. An angel in a rose garden. 

Yoongi chuckles, darkly, his teeth glinting in the yellow light. You fight against his hold, hips rolling against the underside of his length, beckoning him to do something, anything. You merely manage to prolong the thunder of his laughter. 

“One cock isn’t enough for her, so baby wants two,” he spits. That smirk, the crinkles around his eyes—he’s enjoying this. The hint of degradation doesn’t reflect what’s swarming inside of him, doesn’t reflect the face of pleasure coursing down his body. You smile and he scoffs. “I have enough friends for you to choose from in case you want more. I think you’d be stellar at taking three cocks. Four, even, huh? Would you have enough then? One in your tight little virgin ass, two in your cunt, one down your throat?” 

You gulp, frozen, eyes widening. 

Yoongi bites his shiny lips, nudging the tip of his nose against yours. Kisses you once. Begins to rock his hips, his length sliding across your wet fleshiness. The moan that escapes your throat trembles with each delicious motion. 

“You watch too much porn, honey,” he coos, giving you tiny kisses on the mouth. “I’d kill anyone who would come near this pussy. And I’d kill Jungkook, too, if he so much as glanced at her.” 

So that’s his name. You mewl, knitting your brows. That’s his pretty name. The entirety of your form shivers at the discovery, at the pleasure given to your throbbing clit. 

Yoongi pulls back, setting your hands free. 

You prop your elbows on the table, pouting. Yoongi grasps his length, spreads his arousal and begins to jerk himself off. 

“You’re not fucking Jungkook. You’re mine.” He groans, squeezing his tip; your hole clenches. “Rub your clit.” 

Like him, you spread your arousal on your seashell, the arousal long caused by his presence and now the mention of his name—the reason behind your frustration and his, the reason why you’re spread on the dining table, why your boyfriend is hard. You rub your clit from side to side, amused. 

“No,” Yoongi disapproves, knowing you do the motion when you want to prolong the build-up. “Circles. Make yourself come.” 

You change direction, obeying him. A sly grin blossoms on your lips, dark eyes looking up into his, permeating them, permeating into his soul. You pick up the pace, moaning into your expression of elation. 

“Jungkook is such a pretty name,” you provoke and you heighten your sounds in volume and intensity just to piss him off, just to have your way. 

A grunt escapes him, matching your pace. He wraps his fingers around your throat and squeezes. You hum. 

“A pretty name to moan in my opinion.” A layer of sweat coats your body. Yoongi grasps your jawline firmly and your satisfied laughter inches you closer to your orgasm. You feel the hot flashes, roses surrounding you—its tender petals grazing your feverish skin. You give in, watching Yoongi do the same, his mouth in a tight line, hissing and sizzling, an open fire, an open fire you want to be radiated by, burned whole by. “Just imagine him here, watching us. Oh my god, imagine him knowing he’s the reason why you and I are doing this.” 

Yoongi has had enough. 

He pushes you down harshly. Fills your hole to the hilt without letting you adjust, observing himself disappearing inside of you and begins to pound you into the table. The sound of skin slapping, the hard and quick strokes, the ravaged grunts he lets out, the fast change—it all takes your breath away, so much that you can’t, in fact, breathe. He grabs your face and makes you look at him. The dead of the night captured in his features, you absorb it, whining like the brat you are onto his mouth, mingling into your noises your approval, your yes’. 

Swallowing it, he kisses you, keeping his eyes open. “He could never fuck you like this.” 

You laugh. He swallows that, too, moaning. “What if he could?” 

He taps you on the cheek, a warning, giving you an exceptionally hard stroke that causes you to scream. He pauses. Does it again. Over and over—and your screams echo across the room, your own soul slipping out of your body. Petals flutter against you and you’re done for, hanging off the edge. You’re close, so terribly close. Your eyesight blurs and Yoongi pulls out entirely and rams into you. Again and again, abusing your cervix. 

You moan his name, gone—entirely gone. 

“Yes, moan my name like that. Just mine,” he mutters. “Who’s fucking you this good? Who’s gonna make you come?” 

He rams into you more rapidly than before. Your senses leave you until all that you know is Yoongi. His name, his scent, the wholeness of the night encompassing him. 

“You, Yoongi, you. Fuck, I—”

Yoongi laughs maniacally. “Yes, that’s right. That’s my good girl.” 

He rolls his hips, slowing down the coming of your orgasm, owning you. Lets your senses come back to you momentarily. You swallow, your throat dry and you blink, dazed still. Yoongi kisses you, giving you all that he took from you. 

“Who’s only capable of fucking you like this, honey, hm?” he asks, his voice tender and sing-song. “My pretty honey, so fucked out. So out of it.” 

You whine and you don’t control what comes out of you, your body answering for you. “You, Yoongi. You’re fucking me so—so good. I can’t—fuck. You’re the only one.” 

He smiles down at you fondly, kissing your nose, then your lips, parting your mouth and swirling his tongue around yours briefly. Then he withdraws, begins to fuck you again, slowly, reaching to the side for something. 

Once you see his phone in his hand, your heart stops. And when he puts the device to his ear, your throat dries up even more. You suddenly become aware of the silence all around, especially in your chest. You can’t breathe, you can’t blink—

Yoongi jackhammers into you, purposefully luring your loud noises out of you. “My girlfriend wants to fuck you.” 

You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut, the suddenness, the quickness of pleasure you haven’t yet felt piercing you. Fuck hot flashes and petals, you feel a heavy urge of your orgasm closing down on you. 

“She’s so desperate for you, even when I’m fucking the life out of her.” 

You flutter your eyes open to see Yoongi surveying you. You scrunch your face—so close, so fucking close—and then he puts the phone to your ear. Breathing, hard, ragged breathing fills all of your senses and you come. 

It’s an explosion. Roses bursting, their dew soaking you and Yoongi whole and you exit. You exit out of this situation, this world, this universe while your soul remains here with them. Vibrancy, colors so beautiful and sensations so vivid, ardent and fierce. You don’t know what it is you’re feeling or where you are. That is, until Yoongi’s voice yanks you back to planet Earth, back into this world, this situation—back to them. 

“In fact, she just came for you. Squirted.” 

You sob. Overstimulated, rhapsodic, but effulgent. Yes, you emit light and glow. You can see it in Yoongi’s softened eyes. 

“Think about it. No pressure. Just know she won’t shut up about you. I recall her saying your name would be pretty to moan while she played with her pussy. I think it’s only right you fuck it out of her.” 

With that, he hangs up. 

You brim with so many emotions that it numbs you. Happy tears flow out of your tear ducts—and happily, endearingly, Yoongi chortles. You don’t even feel humiliation or shame. On the contrary, you’re ready to come again. 

Yoongi kisses you and the sounds he slips into your mouth divulge how happy he is about this, how pleased he is with himself. 

You pout, burning your eyesight into his. He begins to rut into you. 

“What, you’re not even gonna thank me?” he says, grinning, as if he wasn’t fucking you at all, as if you two were still sitting at the dinner table, conversing. 

You stammer, head empty, silencing yourself and trying again. “What—what made you change your mind?” 

Yoongi places open-mouthed, wet kisses along the bone of your jaw, and there he seals his answer. “I made up my mind the moment you admitted you wanted to be fucked by him, but you wouldn’t shut up about him. I wanted to hear you babble for me. About me. I just had to mess you up to get to that point.” 

You mewl, running your hands through his sweat-slicked hair. Like a cat, he perks up to your touch, lifting his head, angling it. He kisses you, deeply. Kisses your relief. 

“Where are your manners, hm?” he whispers onto your mouth, giving you hard strokes that erase your vocabulary. You want to make him come and so you push against his thrusts, but to no avail. The intensity won’t allow you. 

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you murmur, cradling his face, pecking him, giving him the softest eyes you could muster so you can show him how much it means to you. 

He approves of your effort on bettering your manners and to reward you, he lifts you up and fucks you in the air. Your breasts bounce against the material of his T-shirt, stimulating you and he alters between jackhammering into you and sliding you up and down on his length. Your pussy squelches around his girth, tightening and Yoongi—

Yoongi loses his mind. 

And it’s him who begins to babble when you snap your hips down on him in circles. 

“Just like that, honey, oh fuck. So good, so good for me.” 

He takes it until his sounds grow in volume and you focus so much on his pleasure that you forget about yours. 

But you don’t let him take charge. 

“Let me fuck you, please, Yoongi. I wanna make you come.” 

Just like you, he’s out of it and because of that, because you asked so nicely, he lets you. 

His chest heaves, staccatos of his choked out breaths sail through the room and you can see it on his face that he’s close. Brows furrowed, bottom lip bleeding due to the way he bites hard on it, the way his mouth pops open and his eyes flutter closed. 

You hold onto his neck with your dear life. 

“Look at me,” you demand and swirl your hips in slow circles around his tip. “I want you to look at me when you come.” 

You’re so stunned that he allows you to be in charge, even more when he truly does open his eyes and pierces his gaze into yours. 

“I need to pull out,” he breathes, but you shake your head, snapping your hips down on him harshly.

“No, I want your cum in me. And I want it to be inside of me when Jungkook fucks me.” 

Yoongi grunts and this is it for him. His cock twitches in you, over and over again and then you feel it—the hot, thick ropes of his cum stuffing you full. You’re so mesmerized by the feeling, by the blissfulness evident on his face, by the smoothness between his brows at last that you can’t even milk him dry. You’re frozen, stupefied by his beauty, by his personal rapture and you want to feel it in unity with him. You kiss him. 

It’s him who fucks him cum into you, burying it deep, moaning into your lip lock. 

It’s him who lays you down to your original position and briefly, feebly licks the sheen on your spread lips before devouring your clit. 

It’s him who gives you the fastest orgasm of your life. 

And it’s him who tells you—in the shower—the story of how he almost beat up Jungkook black and blue once he heard him say how pretty you are.

And it’s you who checks up on him. 

“You sure you’re okay with this?” 

You’re stroking his hair in the bed, the duvet heavy and warm around your body and his, the night overflowing into morning—Yoongi, too. 

He’s falling asleep, but still conscious, still here with you, purring. 

“I wouldn’t be waking him up in the middle of the night if I wasn’t,” he whispers, opening his eyes to look at you, to see you enveloped in the extra blanket of the dawn’s rosy light—glowing, throwing the sun off of its throne. “Poor guy just got out of the military and you’ve already rocked his world.” 

You smile, fondly, thumb caressing his temple. Yoongi hums in appreciation. 

“I’m happy for him he’s getting pussy—one that’s mine. Before he enlisted, he spent all his time painting and getting drunk alone,” he pauses in a thought, blinking at the light. “You still want this?” 

You nod, settling into his chest. Yoongi pulls you closer, tucking the duvet into the lines of your form, bringing in comfort and sleepiness. 

“I’ll make sure you have the time of your life. I’ll be here the whole time, taking care of you,” he promises against your hair and you squeeze him. 

“He hasn’t said yes, though. He could turn me down.” 

“I’ve seen the way he looked at you. You have nothing to fear. He’ll come to you like a puppy.” 

Yoongi sinks the promise onto the plane of your forehead and holds you as you drift to sleep. Happy, relieved, steamed off of all the negative things you went through. It evaporates into the dawn—far, far away from you. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / READ part two 

[bts-0t-7]

BTS | MYG | FIC RECS

This list is probably one of the longer ones cause sheesh... I'm a sucker for cats 😭 I hope you'll enjoy the fics as much as I have and don't forget to tell the authors how much you've liked their work!!

Have some spices 😌...

Three Tangerines, @kithtaehyung (smut, brother's best friend, implied age gap au)

Illicit Favours, @yoongiofmine (Fluff, tiny angst, smut, non idol au. Friends to Lovers)

Oh, Darling!, @yoongiofmine (Series, fluff, angst, smut, non idol au, university au)

Predator, @liveyun (gangster au, smut)

Apricity, @liveyun (arranged marriage au, strangers to lovers)

Petals, @yoonia (parenthood au, fluff)

The devil wears Valentino, @orchidyoonkook (One Shot, Spooky AU, Supernatural Creatures AU, Age Gap, Slice of Life, Angst, Smut, Fluff)

Sugar, @zehakoo (strangers to lovers, neighbours au, fluff, smut)

Peaches in bed, @borathae (Smut, married life!AU, domestic!AU)

Yoongi's Lullaby, @jiminrings (unrequited love friends to lovers soulmate au)

Snow Blanket, @yoonieper (friends to lovers, fluff, smut)

A Wager of Lords and Love, @hisunshiine (regency era au, arranged marriage au, s2l, fluff, smut, angst)

By The Time I've Figured Out What It's Worth, @ugh-yoongi (est. relationship, marriage au, angst, smut, fluff)

Bad Things, @yoonia (Brothel!au, Street Fighter!Yoongi, Escort!reader)

Close Call, @xjoonchildx (smut, mafia AU)

The Little Things, @kth1 (Smut, 21+, Slice of Life, One Shot)

Sweet Morning, @7ndipity (slightly suggestive, implied smut, implied drinking, swearing)

Shy, @7ndipity (smut, unprotected sex, soft dom-ish Yoongi)

Hello Soulmate, @bluemari23 (soulmate au, soulmarks, fluff)

Celestial Ruin, @remedyx (Fantasy, Angst, Smut, Corruption)

Carnal Desires, @explicit-tae (smut, stripper reader, mafia/gangster yoongi, grinding, finger sucking)

Moonlit Throne, @hobidreams (smut, angst, fluff)

Desolate, @angelicyoongie (angst, fluff, eventual smut)

The Perks of Being a Househusband, @sunnebeam (marriage au, crack, domesticity, yoongi in his stay-at-home hubs era)

Give It To Me, @ki-yomii (smut, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), praise kink, dom!yoongi, established relationship, pet names)

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x best friend fem!reader

Summary: No matter how hard Tangerine tries, he can't resist your sweetness.

Genre: SMUT (nsfm)

Warnings: virgin!reader, innocent!sub!reader, soft!dom!Tangerine, swearing, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, degradation, praise

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

Fuck, Tangerine curses as he looks behind him and realizes the men are quickly closing in on you and him. His instincts kick in immediately as he holds your arm and practically shoves you into the small alley. He grabs your gun and tosses it across the cobble-stones.

"Tan?" you gasp, your eyes round with confusion. What is he doing?

You know the men chasing you are furious that you and Tangerine had foiled their operation and stolen their hard-drive, and you'd truly expected Tangerine's plan to be fighting instead of fleeing.

He seems to have a completely different plan in mind however when one of his hands pushes against your stomach as he corners you against the brick wall, his other hand resting near your head as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

Using the hand that isn't on the wall, he hooks one of your legs around his waist. "Shh, trust me darlin'. They didn't see our faces that well and it's dark outside," he mumbles, his mustache tickling your skin as you tense up.

"Just trust me"

His hand on your stomach slides to your waist, adjusting you closer to him, as he hears the men angrily run by. You're chest to chest now and Tangerine's breath is warm on your face, his breathing quickened.

In this position, the only natural thing for him to be doing is kissing your neck—only, he isn't.

He waits a moment until he's completely sure the men have gone and then he pulls away from you.

You let out an involuntary sigh, your leg dropping from his hip as you stare at him in the moonlight. You miss seeing the faint blush on his cheeks as he turns and walks over to recover your gun.

"Couldn't have 'em seeing this thing in your hand—didn't fit the scene," he mutters, chuckling a little. He hands it to you and sniffs, looking away nonchalantly. "Okay, now c'mon, we're in the clear now."

* * *

Once you make it back to the car, Lemon's waiting inside, his hands tight on the wheel. Tangerine opens your door for you and then he jumps into the backseat. You and him haven't spoken since his plan and your mind is racing almost as fast as Lemon hits the peddle.

"Ya got the drive?" Lemon asks.

"Hm," Tangerine nods, his mind obviously elsewhere.

His brother senses whatever tension there is and frowns. "What happened back there?"

"Nothing," you and Tangerine both say in unison, your voices rushed.

When you arrive at the hotel, Lemon is still not convinced nothing had happened considering you and Tangerine usually have to be pried apart so you can sleep in your own room while they share theirs. You can barely look at each other now.

On a normal night Lemon also knows you'd yap his and Tangerine's ears off while his brother listens with interest and uncharacteristic patience—but tonight you're both quiet.

You go into your room with only a small goodnight while the Twins take the one next to yours. You feel warm and fuzzy as your mind reminds you of Tangerine's touch on your thigh and waist, his breath hot against your skin.

It all feels like too much as you lay on the mattress and stare at the ceiling fan.

After a moment, you hear a sharp knock and you jump up and open the door.

"Tangerine," you breathe, looking him over. He's dressed in a white shirt and blue striped pajama bottoms that hang loosely from his hips, displaying a V-line you really wish you couldn't see because the confusing butterflies in your stomach worsen.

"Hi, luv, I wanted to make sure you're okay after what happened. I shouldn' have sprung that on ya. Ya must have been so confused,'' Tangerine sounds much calmer than he clearly is because the way his blue eyes dart around the room, avoiding yours, betrays his true emotions.

You let him in and he walks inside, leaning against the door once it's shut as you stand in front of him. You swear you see him glance at your lacy pajama set for a moment.

"It's okay," you whisper honestly and the after a pause you ask, "I-I just, Tan, what exactly were you doing?"

The question stumps him and he frowns. "Hm?"

You feel your cheeks warm. "I mean–with your hand–and your lips near my neck and—my leg on your hip—what was that all supposed to mean?"

Tangerine is even more confused now and he moves closer, tilting his head. He knows you're younger than him, but still, you should be experienced by now.

He assumed you were.

Tangerine clears his throat. "I was making sure those bastards didn't think it was us—that instead if they saw they'd just see a drunk couple makin' out in an alley."

Your eyes remain round and innocent and Tangerine's heart pounds. He does his best to suppress a smirk.

"Ya do know what I mean when I say "making out" don't ya, sweetheart?" he asks, his tone playfully condescending, and his eyes glimmer as he teases you. "You've made-out with someone surely?"

You don't answer and realization dawns on him. "Kissed someone?" he tries.

"I have," you say quickly, "Like maybe t-three times," you admit and avoid his gaze. Tangerine feels warm inside his chest.

How can he know so little about you when it comes to relationships? You're his best friend.

"Oh," he says and looks to the side, "Well, I'm extra sorry now, luv, I didn't know you'd never had someone touch you like that."

"It's okay," you say, really meaning it.

Tangerine's eyes lock with yours, taking in your innocence and all those familiar thoughts he would feel when he first met you—those filthy, almost primal thoughts—come creeping on him again and he feels ashamed.

How can he stand there and imagine how you'd look sprawled under him, your skin love-bitten and raw?

He snaps himself out of his stupor and asks, "So, you've never been in a relationship?"

You feel embarrassed. You'd avoided this topic for a reason.

"Hey, no need to be embarrassed," Tangerine says and walks further into the room. He takes your hand, sitting you down on the edge of the bed next to him. His mind is racing as he tries to act like how a normal best friend would.

Not one who imagines fucking you deep into this godforsaken mattress.

"You're young. You're still in your twenties, ya?" He asks as if reminding himself.

You nod.

"Mhm, see? You're fine," he dismisses. Awkward silence follows. He stands up and nervously runs a hand in his curls. "Okay, well, um, I should go," he says. Tangerine turns around and he isn't prepared when you grab his wrist to stop him. When he looks at you, the way you're staring at him sends an electricity shock directly to his cock.

"Tan," you pull him closer, "I-I really want to um—have that."

"Have what? A relationship?" he swallows, his commitments issues jumping out like a muzzle around his heart.

You shake your head and gaze at him. "No—making out with someone."

Tangerine's cheeks burn so warm and he's sure they're crimson by now. He feels like he just made that up. "Hmm? Padron?" he hums for conformation and blinks at you.

"Tangerine," your sweet voice turns him into a mess.

Fuck. How could you have no absolutely no clue how much effect you have on him?

You sound very serious now, when you say, "I don't want to beg for you because I think you know what I want, and I think you want it too."

Fuck. Fuck.

Fuck this, Tangerine thinks as leans in, pushing your body so you're laying against the mattress, one hand lying over your head and he captures your lips in his. You respond immediately, your hands finding his cheeks as you subconsciously arch against him. Your kiss is obviously a little inexperienced and clumsy but Tangerine doesn't mind.

He can teach you.

"Let me," he whispers against your lips and moves so he has you under him as he kisses you. His knee presses against the mattress as his arm wraps around you and caresses your hair. "So good, hm? S'good for me, darlin'?" you nod and attempt to kiss him harder.

His fingers interlock with your hair, massaging your scalp, and he pulls away momentarily. "Let me be in control, okay, luv? You just move with me, kay?"

You look flustered. "Is it that bad? I–"

Tangerine shakes his head instantly and kisses your nose in a reassuring manner. "It's not bad, I don't want ya to worry. You're just inexperienced, is all. Relax for me, hm?"

His lips descend to yours again, and this time you let him take control. You move your lips with his, opening your mouth so he can slide his tongue inside. His kiss is passionate but still gentle. All he wants is to make you feel safe in his arms. He wants to make sure you're completely comfortable with him.

His hands find yours as he pins them above your head and his lips move down your jaw, peppering kisses all over your skin.

Shit, if he doesn't stop himself now when will he?

Tangerine pulls away and looks at you from over you. "Darlin', we can't," he whispers, his eyes completely lidded with lust as his chest rises and falls. His voice is husky and hoarse. "I can't do that for you. Not me."

You look up at him, breathless, "Why not?"

Tangerine's chest constricts. "Because it's wrong. Because you deserve better than me."

You blink, not understanding, "Better than you? What do you mean? I want this. I want you," you look up at him with such intensity as you push at his hands, the ones pinning yours to the mattress, breaking free and then grasping onto his shirt, your nails digging into the fabric of his blouse.

"Do you want me to beg, Tangerine?" you ask breathlessly, "Because I will."

His eyes roll back and he feels every restraint he'd had break. He feels like a teenager, only thinking with his dick—but God, he wants you so badly his entire body is vibrating.

He doesn't have much constraint left in him as he mutters, "Are you sure you want this? I wanna make sure you understand what you're asking me for, darlin'." His lips hit your ear and he says, "I'm not a gentle lover."

Tangerine says this but he knows deep down he'll be whatever kind of lover you need. Even if that means not touching you at all.

"I'm sure. I trust you."

Those words cause his heart to leap and his dick to harden even more. You trust him? As your best friend he shouldn't have you like this—he should be better than this—but he can't deny you anything, not when you look so pretty and pliant under him.

It's overwhelming how much he craves being the one to take your virginity. Tangerine's hands slide down your top and he lifts you up, pulling your shirt off and instantly attaching his lips to your nipples. He adores the soft sounds you make, how you shiver from his touch as he trails his fingers down the skin on your waist and hips. How you arch into him with every tentative lick he blesses you with.

"I love the way ya sound," he groans as he lifts up your hips, hooking his thumb in your pajama shorts and your panties, pulling them down so you're naked underneath him. Your skin is as soft as he'd imagined and you look like an angel with your eyes wide and innocent. You're anticipating his touch, your breasts rising and falling.

Tangerine dips his hand lower and rubs your clit gently, sensing your arousal on his fingers. "Shit, s'this all for me, angel?" he teases and you nod, making that whimpering sound he likes so damn much.

He circles your hole and leans in to kiss your forehead. "Can I get ya ready for my cock, pretty girl? Can I use my fingers? My tongue?" he whispers and you nod. This time, the nod isn't enough. "C'mon, use your words for me."

"Yes, please. 'Wanna f-feel you," you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck, finding the baby hairs on his nape and pulling him even closer to you. You kiss him again, liking the way his fingers explore around you.

For someone who'd proclaimed to be so rough with the women he dated, he's being incredibly gentle with you and it's making you feel dizzy.

"Good girl," he smiles into your lips and lays you down again, using his hands to spread your thighs as he looks at you. He presses a kiss to your inner thigh. This is about you tonight, not him, so he has no problem ignoring how tight his jeans feel. He sucks on your inner thigh, smiling. "Ya probably taste like honey," he mumbles as his mustache tickles your skin and he moves to press a soft kiss to your clit.

You squirm instantly and Tangerine presses his palm against your thigh, pushing your hips down in a firm manner while he continues to smooth circles around your skin. "Shh, baby, you're okay," he murmurs against your pussy, pressing wet kisses to your slit. He looks up at you, seeing how lidded your eyes have become.

"Hey, my sweet girl, can ya look at me?"

You do your best to focus on him. "Want you to tell me no or stop if it's too much, mhmm. If you're too overwhelmed just say the words, okay? I won't be mad at ya, darlin'. Ya can say them anytime— I don' care if I'm already inside ya or if I've haven't even touched ya, you tell me. You communicate, do ya understand me?"

He's never this insistent with his lovers. Never. In fact, he's usually the opposite. He likes being rough and he just assumes his partners know to tell him if it's too much. But you? You're different. You don't have any experience with this kind of thing and the last thing he wants is you just biting your lip and letting him hurt you.

Tangerine could never live with himself if he hurt you.

You nod.

Tangerine presses a quick kiss to where you're most sensitive. "No, no, your words, luv. Use them."

Your voice is small and breathy. "I understand," you say.

Something inside him snaps and he returns all his attention to you, his hands tightening around your thighs as he eats you out like a starved man. You feel so weak and shaky in the best way possible, your hand gripping anything you can find as you moan and whimper. You've never felt like this and you wouldn't be surprised if this is what heaven feels like.

His mouth works wonders, you lose sense of time and everything around you blurs.

You come with a moan and Tangerine pulls away, satisfied by the self-lubrication you've just provided. He sits up, teasing your hole a little until he stands up and you panic a little. You try and sit up too but your arms feel like jello and Tangerine is back, this time with a condom. He shows it to you with a small smile.

"Makin' sure we're safe, hm?" he promises and kisses your lips again, gently coaxing you to lay back and relax. He spreads your thighs and looks down at your glistening pussy, thinking for a moment. "Still wanna open ya up, luv," he says and brings his hand and slowly inserts one finger, testing the waters.

You take him easily because of the lubrication, with just a little shift of your hips and a moan. However, the second finger isn't as easy and you try to shift away from him this time. "Shh, baby, you're okay. Promise," tangerine reassures as he moves closer and pulls your hips closer to his, your leg resting on his thighs as he works his fingers inside you.

Soon, you're a moaning mess and Tangerine pulls out his fingers, licking them clean, as he smirks and looks at you. "Ya ready?" He sure is, he's so hard it hurts.

"Y-yes," you say, opening your legs. You're aching for him at this point.

You're much too in your head as your eyes shut when he shifts and you hear the rustling of clothes. You hold your breath, feeling him move over you and his dick touches your thigh. You inhale, shivering as the feeling of his hand running against your hairline and your eyes open.

He's hovering over you, your noses almost touching as he keeps himself up by his forearms against the mattress. He lifts himself up with one of his arms, clutching the headboard for a moment as he guides himself to your entrance.

"Tan—" you interrupt him and he looks at you, his blue eyes wide and worried.

"What's wrong?"

"Is it gonna hurt?" you ask honestly, your lip trembling. You want this so bad but you're also scared.

Tangerine's eyes soften. "I don't know, darlin'. It might—it probably will—but if I do things right, it won't be unbearable, I promise. And then, the pain will turn into pleasure," he says with a smile and kisses your forehead.

"And if it doesn't, then you'll tell me and we'll figure something else out, hm. Okay? We can try different angles, like ya bein' on top for example, either way, I'm right here with ya."

You bite your cheek, nodding. He's your best friend. He'd never hurt you.

The first push isn't the worst. It just feels weird up until the burn where you let out a little cry and your hands try and find something to hold onto.

"My back, baby, it's okay, go on," Tangerine encourages with a grunt, being slow and deliberate with his movements. He nips your neck when you wrap your arms around his back and your nails dig into his skin. It feels only fair that if he's hurting you, you should return the favor.

Once the burn disappears and the tip breaches, you relax and it's much easier. You gasp, feeling him rock into you–slowly. "Fuck me, you're so good," he praises, gripping the sheets over your head as he moves a little faster and a little deeper.

Your body is buzzing and your nails dig into his back.

"More," you whimper, "Feels really good," you say, unable to open your eyes as you hold in your moans that threaten to spill because of his thrusts.

He smirks, his chest filling with pride. "Yeah? T'feels good, doesn't it? Ya like havin' me inside ya like this?"

You nod, pulling him in closer as his thrusts become more purposeful. You whine and the more his hips snap into yours and you wrap your legs around him, the deeper you take him. "Tangerine!" you cry, moaning his name as he muffles your sounds with a kiss.

"Quiet now, can't have Lemon hearing how I've turned ya into my good little slut," he groans, his muscles tensing as he continues his pace, holding himself back only a little because you can't take him at his fullest—yet. You'll have time to learn, he promises himself as he fucks you closer and closer to his own release.

You moan at the degradation and it only brings you closer to the edge. "Please, please, please," you whimper pitifully, scratching your nails down his back as the hotel bed creaks underneath you.

"Please what?" Tangerine groans.

You come for the second time. Tangerine captures the broken moan in his mouth as he kisses you, fucking you again and again until you've ridden out your high and he's on the brink.

"Bloody hell," he groans as he comes inside the condom, barely holding himself up from toppling over you and crushing you under him. He peppers kisses all over your face as he praises you. "Good girl, such a good girl for me."

Your breathing harshly, your arms falling to your side as you stare up at the ceiling. Your mind is spinning as you wrap your head around how you'd just lost your virginity to the one man you'd promised yourself you would never fall for—and the one man who it was always inevitably that you would.

Tangerine pulls out gently, discarding the condom in the trash, and then he rolls onto his back and catches his breath. You stay still, not sure how this works. Tangerine looks over at you, hiding a smile as he sends you a soft look.

"Hey, c'mere," he whispers and shifts so you can lay on his chest in his arms.

You do so as he pulls the blanket over your bodies as he presses a quick kiss to your forehead. "Talk to me. How're ya feelin'?" he asks.

You feel a whirlwind of emotions that you can't quite put into words. The warmth of his body against yours is comforting and yet it intensifies the confusion dancing around you and even when you rest your palm on his stomach for more warmth and comfort, your stomach twists nervously.

"I don't know," you finally admit, your voice small. "I liked it and I- I wanted this but now that it's happened, it's so new and I'm scared."

Tangerine's fingers find themselves in your hair, storking gently as he tries to convey his emotions though his touches. "I understand," he murmurs. "I know it's a lot, but I'm here, alright? I'm not going anywhere."

You close your eyes, letting his words sink in. You never thought you would find yourself in this situation, much less with him. You don't know what came over you to even ask for this—but now that you had, a part of you feels like it was the right decision.

"I've never been with anyone and I don't want to lose myself in this," you confess. "In you."

Tangerine's heart is pounding. He doesn't do commitment or relationships—he's never been good at them. He feels like whenever he's tried, he's been a shitty boyfriend.

However, he can't help but feel like there is something about you that makes him want to do better.

He tilts your chin up so you're looking into his eyes. "You won't," he promises, his gaze steady and sincere. "We're in this together and I promise you, I'll do my very best not to mess this up."

He leans in and kisses your lips softly. "I like you too much to mess this up," he whispers against your lips and you can't help but smile. You've never felt safer than in his arms.

* * *

tag: @tansgirlfriend

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

hi another rq, tan fucking reader from behind with his bicep around their neck 🫡🫡

gimme gimme!! okay I wrote this so filthy compared to my usual lovey smut. turned myself on so bad thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

SPEEDBUMP.

tangerine x fem!reader — smut

word count. 386

warnings. 18+ pinv sex, tan being a bit of a mean dom? choking? (what ask entails) horny writer brainrot. minors dni

Tangerine had you pressed into the bed, half of his weight atop your back, pushing your front into the mattress beneath you. You have one of your knees bent to the side, allowing him more space as he fucks into you, the almost splitting feeling of his cock ploughing into you from behind.

He has his right arm hooked under your face, your throat snug in that spot between his bicep and forearm - his muscles tensed and constricting against that delicate area.

"Like it when I trap you like this?" he mutters into the back of your ear, his voice low. "Like it when you can't move? Mhm? And you have to lie there and take it?"

You nod, the motion restricted from the hold in his bicep.

"Can't hear you," he teases, pulsing his arm muscles. "Tell me, love. I want to hear you," he husks into your ear from behind, lips and stashe skimming your skin. 

Though every time you try to respond, he fucks into you just that bit harder, making it near impossible for you to speak through your choked-out moans.

"I'll stop," he softly threatens, retracting a few inches of himself from your cunt - pulling out of the warm, sopping mess he had made of you. 

You shake your head, the action pleading. "No, no, no," you utter, lifting your hips and trying to back up onto him, wanting his full cock back inside of you again. "Please don't."

But he only drags more of himself out, the tip being the only thing plugged inside - the rest of his cock streaked with your cum, impatiently exposed to the air.

You press hurried kisses into his forearm, fingers digging into the swole of his bicep. "Please, please, please," you whine, clamping around the head of his cock - trying to tempt him. "Put it back in... please."

Your pleas are granted almost instantly, the sheer length of him plunging back inside, the warm snug feeling of your cunt wrapping around him once again.

He gradually rebuilds that same relentless pace from before, balls slapping against your clit and cock hitting the right spots, everything synchronised and pushing you over the edge for the fourth time. His pulsing bicep and filthy mouth only aid you further into that delicious feeling.

@everythingisspokenfortbh

[i-wish-this-was-me]

Favorite fics (Oscar)

6. Oscar Piastri:

Celebrating his first win (smut)

Edging the reader and then aftercare (smut)

The green-eyed monster (smut)

Control (smut)

One more (smut)

Angry (Oscar) sex (smut)

New set (smut)

Giving head (+LN) (smut)

Too big (smut)

Cnc with Oscar (smut)

Too stressed (+MV) (smut)

Mean, dom Oscar (smut)

Blindfolded (+LN) (smut)

Rough head (smut)

Jealous of Logan (smut)

Fingered for the first time (+LN) (smut)

Wet dream (+LN) (smut)

Something unexpected (smut)

Rough day at the office (smut)

Toys are teammates (smut)

Something different (smut)

The big interview (+LN) (smut)

Squeezing so good (smut)

Giving head (smut)

Make me yours (smut)

First time squirtig (smut)

My girl (+ a bit of Carlos but he isn't THAT important) (smut)

Good cop & bad cop (+LN) (smut)!

Eating (smut)

Anything, huh? (+LN) (smut)!

Limits (smut) (OMFG I LOVE THIS SO MUCH, THIS IS SUCH A MASTERPICE, I AM IN LOVE)

Zoom (smut)

Me either (smut)

Hesitantly (smut)

Breaking point (+LN) (smut, fluff, angst)

Little slice of paradise (sweet smut)

I could show you mine (sweet smut)

Getting your period in the middle of it (smut with fluff)

We heard you (smut, fluff at the end)

Caught (smut, fluff at the end)

Overstimulated (smut, fluff at the end)

Hope you feel better (suggestive)

Bend over (suggestive)

Let's try that again (suggestive)

Slapping ass (suggestive?)

Grey sweatpants (suggestive)

She's missed you (fluff)

Call me your fool (fluff)

Crumbs (+LN) (fluff)

There's a lightness in your eyes (fluff)

Sleep buddies or dating? (fluff)

Package deal (fluff)

Haunted house (fluff)

Cute (fluff)

Breath for me (+LN) (fluff)

Tired eyes (fluff)

Tangerine (fluff)

Under the mistletoe (fluff)

Drowning in your love (fluff)

Soft mornings (fluff)

Under the mistletoe (fluff)

You revitalise me fraying bones (fluff)

Jealous for the first time (fluff)

Grey sweatpants (fluff)

Kangaroo (fluff)

Lavender Haze (fluff)

Exhausted (+LN) (fluff)

Laser tag (fluff)

Masterlist

[lawchwan]

do you believe me? (sanji)

summary: you love sanji, and sure, sanji loves you too, but does he love you the way you do? you're not too sure about his actions... requested: @mooncallerautumn reader: fem!reader disclaimer: reader is possessive and has trust issues, sanji lacks self-awareness, misunderstandings, reader kinda compares herself to nami and robin (but they're all girl girls so dw there's no beef), reader is implied to be a smoker, dom!sanji, sub!reader, cunnilingus, fingering, piv, talks of exhibitionism, kitchen sex, praise kink going brr, Sanji kinda dirty talks, unprotected sex (lets pretend contraceptive exists in the op universe and reader's taking it... also put a condom, you nasties), creampies, honestly Sanji's lowkey off character but idc i want him genre: angst with a fluff (smut) ending a/n: this piece is exactly 3.6k,,, this mayhaps the longest i've written on this account but yeh hope its good regardless :)

crossposted on ao3

Laughter, banter, and cordial interactions are all actions anyone can implement in any dealings with any individual. Those interactions result in hopefully deeper and more meaningful relationships, no matter way of showcasing them.

That's how Sanji caught your attention, parting ways for you to roam around freely in a room, cooking your special meals, and buying you things that reminded him of you just to name a few. His acts of worship and treating you like a Greek goddess walking amongst humans fluttered your heart like a butterfly setting free of its cage...

But there was more than one Greek goddess, and each goddess could represent her powers, and you saw yourself as one of many with the Sanji acts.

Chivalry is an eloquent quality he pertains within him, an admirable feature that makes you feel safe, protected, and loved...

But you were loved solely by Sanji? He thought he did, but to you, you were just like any other woman he interacted with. You were on the same level as Nami when she requested a tangerine-based dessert and Sanji dropped everything and got it for her, you were on the same level as Robin when she came down the stairs and Sanji kneels down and held her hand gently like she was glass as she gave him a warm smile, you were in the same level as the woman at the market who struggled to get the canned soup at a high shelf only for her to flutter her lashes as a thank you and Sanji got weak instantly. The way he treats them is not any different from the way he treats you.

And that ached your heart that was filled with him and the desire to have him solely.

You felt bad for feeling this way, but god dammit you were selfish. Selfish you were and you didn't give a damn. You wanted Sanji for yourself, but you can't have him because he was unknowingly hurting you with the way he's showcasing his affection towards these beautiful women.

You wanted to hate him but you loved him dammit... you'd hate yourself before you hate him.

Sanji took notice of your distance, the cool breeze that radiated off of you as you walked by him caused the hairs on his neck to stand up straight with a sense of vibration in his spine. He could've sworn the room's temperature dropped when you walk in, but it was only he who could feel it.

He wasn't sure where all that came from, the moment he laid his eyes on you, he saw you like you were a star walking amongst man. He was taken aback by the way you showcase and present yourself in front of him and how beautiful you were.

He thought he did everything that you loved, especially after hearing—rather eavesdropping—the conversation you'd have with the female crew and how much you gush over him to the two female crew. Neither Nami nor Robin could see what you see in him, but they both remain giving you support and valid pieces of advice.

So why would you switch up on him like that?

He also noticed that he'd get a disgruntled response from Nami whenever he served her anything she liked in contrast to her elated reaction, catching him off guard with the negative reaction.

"What the hell is going on?" He once thought to himself, looking down at the kitchen counter in confusion after wiping it, thinking he was alone.

"I never would have thought that you would have a lack of self-awareness, Sanji."

Sanji jumped in his place before turning around to see the source of the voice, only to see Robin standing by the door frame with her arms crossed and a disapproving facial expression plastered onto her sharp-featured face.

However, Sanji being Sanji overlooked that and began his antics before Robin used her devil fruit power to stop him from getting closer to her. He was put back into place as she simply shook her head before walking into the kitchen.

"What was that all about, Robin? That really hurts" Sanji rubbed his shoulders to soothe the restraints Robin gave.

"You're one to talk about being hurt..." Robin scoffed as she walked up the cupboard as if she was looking for something, her usually quiet demeanor was present but it contained an uneasy presence that even Sanji sensed as he eyed her figure walking around. Sanji cocked his head to the side in a baffled manner as he looked away for a little bit.

"What? What are you talking about?" He asked.

"I suggest you go talk to (y/n). She'll probably tell you why everyone's cold towards you... if you so much loved her as you claim to do." Robin calmly griped before walking away, leaving Sanji alone to try to discern Robin's cryptic wording. Sanji sat with himself for minutes, pondering the words Robin had told him. Her words echoed in his head as he deciphered the words.

Until it clicked...

Robin's disapproving confrontations, Nami's cold and irritated responses, and more evidently, your avoidance of him; It was all connecting now. Although he still doesn't understand what he did wrong, he'll have to confront one of you, you being the top priority as he sensed that you were the one who's hurt the most...

—

The night rolled around and the ruckus of Luffy, Ussop, and Chopper's antics died down, the sounds of the calm sea soared higher underneath the Thousand Sunny, peacefully rocking the ship. Despite the serenity of the boat, it caused everyone to sleep except for Sanji, with his thoughts blasting through his head in contrast to the sounds of light breathing and snores from the crew.

After staring at the ceiling long enough, Sanji left the cabin to grab a smoke to ease himself off. As he came out to the balcony, he spotted you in the distance, your upper body leaning towards the railing, allowing the wind to brush your hair back slightly. Although you gave him your back, he still admired you from afar. The allure you've given your off was a sight to behold, Sanji just couldn't help to admire you a tad bit more than others—or so he thought.

Sanji walked up to you, you knew there was a non-threatening presence eyeing you, but you didn't know nor care to turn around to see who was it, until he spoke.

"Beautiful night, am I right?" Sanji softly said as he stood next to you mimicking your stance. You turned to him wide-eyed with an open mouth, before you went back, not answering him back. Although you were upset with him, you oddly felt comforted by his presence... Could've been worse but you wished he wasn't next to you right now.

Sanji began lighting a cigarette, smoking a few puffs before looking back at you, noticing the somber gaze you had in your eyes. He offered you the lit cigarette in his hand—a norm between the two of you that you shared a cigarette stick—but you once again ignored him, a silence rejection that pained the blonde figure.

"Okay, what's going on?" Sanji blurted, throwing his cigarette away with his eyes narrowed towards you.

Your brows knitted at the confrontation, "What?"

"For the longest time, you've been avoiding me, giving me the cold shoulder, not hanging out with me... What's up?" Sanji expressed as he crossed his arms while facing you fully. You simply scoffed at him with an eye roll and a headshake, which pissed Sanji off.

"Don't give me that eye-roll, I deserve to know what's going on and what I did to deserve this." Sanji chastised. It was unnatural for Sanji to get this upset, but when the person he had been admiring for so long was being cold around him, he couldn't help but feel frustrated.

"Oh, so now you wanna know what's going on?" You sneered at him as you eyed his disapproving face. He wavered his angered expression to a frustrating confusion with his brows wrinkling to a scowl.

"What are you on about? I just wanted to know—"

"Just forget it, Sanji, like you would get it—" You shook your head as you almost walked away until Sanji grabbed your arms and held you closer in place.

"I won't let you go until you tell me what's wrong..." Sanji whispered as he looked at your sunken eyes. You wanted to physically fight him to let you go, but the way he was holding you almost put you in a semi-tranced state, and you just couldn't. You began shaking your head as you began tearing up, hoping that he could just let you go right there when it did way worse than what you wanted.

"Hey, hey, (y/n), my love, what's wrong—"

"Don't call me that!" You sobbed as you sunk your head further and gripped onto his arms, fingernails digging into his skin in hopes of letting you go, but in fact, it was futile. No matter what you did, Sanji kept to his promise; he won't let you go until you tell him... If only he kept himself in other ways.

Sanji just looked at you even more confused, "why not?"

You shook your head once again, hushing out your confession, "I'm not your love... You don't love me..."

"What do you mean? Of course, I love you."

"No, Sanji! You don't love me the way I do!" You shot at him, making eye contact with him.

As soon as those words hit and he had a look at your tear-stricken eyes, that was when Sanji's brain found its final puzzle piece on why the way you were. He replayed back how he would treat the women surrounding him and how it might have impacted him. He thought it was just his usual chivalry act, and you must've taken it the wrong way.

"Yes, yes, I do, (y/n), I've loved you the moment I've met you," Sanji confessed, and you once again shook his head.

"You probably said that to Nami, or Robin, or any girl you meet..."

"That's not true, (y/n), you're nothing like them," Sanji held your face with one hand, stroking your tear-stained face with his thumb, "you're way more special to me than any woman I've encountered.

"You sure have a way of showcasing it—" you scoffed until your words were cut by a warm pair of lips placed onto yours. Your eyes widened as your body stiffened at the contact, you almost gave in until Sanji pulled himself away from you, almost sensing that you were surprised by his action.

"I know I haven't been the best at treating you the way you deserve, and I am so sorry for hurting you and not telling you how much you mean to me, my love," Sanji's eyes and words were genuine and filled with real adoration, his traditional heart eyes were replaced with a glowing halo that meant something way deeper than those hearts he would showcase any women. He held both your hands as he kissed your knuckles, with your lips slightly parted, words were trying to spill but failed.

"You might not believe me now, but give me a chance to show you how much I love—no, I adore you... I'll give you something no woman has ever taken from, I promise you..."

His words may border into desperation, but you couldn't help but be convinced by his wordings and sweet talks as you gave him a small smile and hushed an approval before Sanji dragged you and took you into the kitchen.

—

It was some time passed since Sanji's confession. You weren't sure how long it had been since you last talked to him, but you simply didn't care as your clothes and Sanji's blouse were discarded somewhere in the kitchen, with him placing himself in between your legs, his hot tongue spreading around your wet folds as you lay across the dining table, moaning out in pleasure. His hair was disheveled with the way you gripped his hair, pushing his face further as if that motion could make his tongue get in deeper.

Sanji moans at the way you are gripping his hair as well as how tasty you are to him. The nectar seeping out of your flower was so ravishing, that he felt like he could turn himself into a bee hoping for more honey.

"Gosh, darling, you taste so divine," Sanji spoke through his licks, looking up at you like you were a goddess. He soon inserts his slender fingers into you while his tongue tackles your clit, resulting in you whimpering out for him. His fingers scissor your walls as he stretches you out with his fingers like he's preparing you for more.

"Mmm~ Sanji..." You mewled.

"Shh, shh, you don't want them to wake up now, do you?" Sanji cooed with a smirk, while his fingers were still pumping in and out of you, "unless you want them to walk in and see you with your legs spread out for me, huh?"

You moaned lightly at the thought of any of the crew walking in and seeing you like this, legs spread out for the cook, eating you out for breakfast, lunch and dinner, something only he can have. Sanji took note at the excitement you were having, which caused him to smile as he got up from his knees.

"C'mere" Sanji exhaled before he fervently placed his lips back into yours, his tongue caressing into yours, making you taste yourself in the process. The hand that was on your thigh to keep you from closing around him ascended up to your neck, wrapping around it lightly.

"Have you tasted yourself?" He rhetorically inquired through the kiss, licking your bottom lips while you continued spilling your pleasured noises.

"Mhm, I know you like it," Sanji amorously giggled, "You tasted so fucking good."

Your eyes were still screwed shut as you felt yourself getting closer to the peak with Sanji's talented fingers. Just like in cooking, he truly knew how to use his fingers to hit the spot, and Sanji knew when it was ready to serve, which was certainly not now. Sanji releases his fingers out of your tight hole, making you whine out which made Sanji purr.

"I know, my love, I know," Sanji pouted as he held your face and squished your cheeks, "but baby deserves more than what she got, and I'm about give it right now."

As Sanji was speaking, he began lowering his already-unbuttoned pants, along with his boxers, releasing his ravenous cock with precum leaking out its dark pink head. You took a peek down at his cock, and your mouth started to drool at the sight, which Sanji smirked at your ogling.

"You want this, don't you?" Sanji smiled sweetly as he placed a strand behind your ear and you began to hold and lightly stroke it, He hissed at the contact while you were entranced by Sanji's parts. Sanji held your wrist and halted motions.

"As much as I want this, lemme take care of you..."

His actions may be fervid and lusting, but the words he let out were filled with fondness and adoration. He laid you down while he teased your leaking pussy, the head just eager to insert it.

"Sanji, please, just put it in~" You begged, and with that, you got an immediate response with Sanji stretching you out, making you mewl out as you threw your head back with a back arch. Sanji ran his lithe fingertips from your collarbone down to your breasts and began massaging the squish plush of your chest as you adjusted to his length.

You two were having a surreal moment, a moment that neither of you, especially you, could have expected to happen. A moment in which you have thought of before going to bed, touching yourself after hours at the thought of Sanji in that similar position that you're in. All the harsh and intrusive thoughts that you felt towards him with the way he treated women melted away as Sanji began moving at a slow pace.

The thrusts left you moaning out as Sanji hushes out strings of praises that left you wetter and wetter.

"Gosh, (y/n), you feel so good..."

"Such a good girl, such a good fucking girl..."

Sanji's thrusts began to become feverish as time goes, the sounds of skin slapping and blissed moans coming from both your and Sanji's lips bounce off the kitchen walls as the wooden table creates slight creaking sounds underneath your bodies, following his rhythm,

"I'm so close—fuck~ you're not that far off either, huh, my love?" Sanji's voice begins to crack as he feels himself about to implode and his thrusts begin to slop away. You were panting and whining mess underneath, struggling to form words in response so you simply just nod.

"Come with me, my love, c'mon," Sanji whimpered softly as he began to hold your hand and his lips attached itself into your neck, giving you the love you ever so deserve.

The volcano in your stomach is about to erupt due to the sheer force of Sanji's hips aided in his cock reaching over to your cervix, giving it multiple kisses at a time. But no amount of thrusts and penetration could have ever given that blissful end until Sanji whimpered out the sweetest sounds with him saying,

"Let me see you come for me..."

And there he has pushed you into that euphoric state as you rolled your eyes back, making you see white. Sanji groaned out as he spilled his all inside of you, leaving the two of you breathless in the process. Sanji landed on top of you, his head on your shoulder as he catches his breath, while you began stroking the back of his head.

Once you gathered your breathes, Sanji lifted himself slightly and pulled himself away to look at the aftermath of what you two had done. Your opening began to ooze out Sanji's load and drip down to the table underneath. You lifted yourself by the elbow and looked down.

"Shit... we eat here, Sanji..." You giggled breathlessly as you lightly scolded him. Typically, Sanji would be upset over a small dust landing on any crevice of the kitchen, but when he sees you with his cum dripping out of you, christening the table, he honestly couldn't care any less.

He leans in once again and attaches his lips to yours, this time in a chaste way. The kiss was pure in contrast to the previous activity you two had, it was a kiss, however, of what's akin to an overdue longing, a longing that was desperate to be released and given by someone specific, and you two were the main target for each other.

He pulled away, his head was placed onto yours as he smiled at you breathlessly.

"Now do you believe me? Now do you believe that I'm madly in love with you?" Sanji whispered, eyes filled with adoration.

Your eyes softened and gleamed as it matches up and mirrored his exact emotions.

"I do... I absolutely do..."

—

Bonus ending:

It was the next day, and Sanji was seen rushed to the kitchen to cook up something for the crew. He woke up slightly later than usual, which Robin and Nami took notice of as they had woken up before the rest of the crew, sitting on the sunbeds by the deck. Sanji greeted them hastily—uncharacteristic of him—with a quick smile and wave as he walked into the kitchen and instantly got into cooking, meanwhile, you showed up moments later...

They took notice of your odd walking, there was a slight wobble to it, seeming as though you were attempting to hide it. Robin and Nami just smirked at each other before looking back at you as you walked up to them.

"Hey, girls!" you beamed as you sat on the empty sunbed next to Robin.

"You seem to be in a lively mood," Robin acknowledged as she looked at the book she was reading, meanwhile Nami lightly chuckled, "Yeah, it's been a minute since I've seen you this cheery," she added.

You simply shrugged and opened your mouth to respond, only for Sanji to come in with drinks at hand.

"While breakfast is getting prepared, I've got you beautiful ladies your drinks," Sanji announced with the tray, beginning to distribute the drinks, and when he got to you, leaned down as he whispered to you "and I made this extra special just for you." He winked as he handed you the drink his hand grazed yours longingly, making you chuckle in timidness.

As Sanji was about to walk away, Nami and Robin respectively began commenting at earshot of his, pretending to be chatting with you.

"I see you and Sanji have made up..."

"Yeah, could've fooled me with that afterglow."

It was like it was purposeful, with Sanji stumbling on his steps and you choking on your drinks, making you cough and Sanji turn red as he ran to the kitchen.

"Robin! How could you?! You made poor (y/n) choke!" Nami feigned offense with a laugh and a slight nudge toward Robin as the dark-haired girl just simply chuckled.

You simply just shook your head as you rolled your eyes with a smile, "I hate you two..."

Your response made the two girls laugh.

characters are owned by oda. i will not tolerate nor accept translation, reposts on other websites, or plagiarism. divider made by mmadeinheavenn.

[makeyoumine69]

My Dear Little Girl

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: The Christmas gift you never imagined.

CONTAINS: Smut, fluff, unprotected sex (p in v), creampie, oral sex (f), tongue fucking, nipple play/sucking, body worship, praise kink, manhandling, dirty talk, pet names, marking, biting, established relationships, Service!Dom!Patrick Bateman himself.

WORDS: 3.3k

SONG REC: The Neighbourhood - Softcore

A/N: Merry Christmas guys, I'm so happy to have you all! 💞

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]

There has always been something magical about Christmas, the holiday atmosphere, the sweet smell of tangerines and the clinking of champagne glasses. Yes, all of this became a standard set of things that people thought of when it came to Christmas. And you were probably one of those who believed in miracles that could happen during this magical time. At least you tried to believe it, but when Bateman told you that he had to go to his company Christmas party tonight, that actually brought you back down to Earth, because sometimes our expectations simply didn't match up with reality. And that was absolutely fine — those were the exact words you told Patrick when he called you a few hours ago, before he actually went to that party. 

Everything was fine.

You repeated this over and over again as you walked around your apartment in Manhattan, which was not as spacious as Bateman's, but you really loved it, especially now, with the beautiful Christmas tree that shone brightly with different illuminations when you turned off the lights. Since you knew Patrick wasn't coming, there was no point in waiting to open the bottle of the finest red wine he'd given you especially for this Christmas Eve. Sighing, you poured yourself a big glass of the red liquid, took some sweets and went back to your living room, where you stood at the wide window and looked at the breathtaking scenery of New York City in winter — this year it was quite snowy, which could not make you happy, even though you were going to spend this evening alone.

As the fireworks began to paint the midnight sky in ornaments of different shapes and colors, you couldn't take your eyes off this sight, as you were absolutely mesmerized. At first, you didn't even hear the doorbell ring, and only when it rang for the tenth time in a row did you realize that someone was at your front door, which actually scared you a bit because it was already quite late.

Your steady footsteps echoed off the walls of your hallway as you finally reached the door and looked through the peephole - the person you saw almost made you drop your glass to the floor. Damn, you should have left it in the living room.

Before you slowly opened the door, you coughed several times to clear your throat, and you also quickly fixed your hair — although your whole appearance could hardly be called fancy or party-like, as you wore your casual top and shorts set — the moment you and Bateman saw each other, you both remained silent, as if you were seeing each other for the first time.

"Well, hello (y/n)," he was the first to speak, with his absolutely haughty smile that always left you no choice but to be embarrassed. "I thought you were out walking somewhere."

"At this time?"

Patrick grinned even wider before glancing to the right, where a small commotion could be heard. "Some people here are already celebrating, you know."

Rolling your eyes, you stepped aside to let him enter. "What happened to the Christmas party?"

Your question made the man chuckle as he brushed some snow from his shoulders before taking off his beautiful dark blue coat. "Actually — nothing."

"Nothing?"

"That's exactly what I said." Patrick crooned and came closer to you, pressing his cold palm against your cheek, making you squirm and almost spilling wine on your shirt. "Uhh, you have such warm cheeks, honey."

"Okay, I'll ask it another way," you managed to regain your composure, even though Bateman seemed to be doing his best to make you lose your cool. "Why are you here?"

Pulling his hand away from your face, Bateman narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms after checking the time on his Rolex. "Were you expecting someone else?" 

And now his voice sounded as grumpy as if he was seriously asking that question, but instead of defending yourself, you just chuckled and took a sip of your drink.

"Oh yes, I was expecting a handsome man so we could drink this wonderful wine and... talk about music, the meaning of life and whether or not true love exists." You chirped quickly before taking his hand and dragging him into your living room before this conversation could lose its jokey undertone.

"That was," Bateman stammered when he finally realized what drink you were holding. "That was very smart. Have you ever thought of applying to a Broadway theater? I think they would love to offer you a job." His statement made you stop and turn to give him a deadly stare. "What? If you don't like theater, you can always try your luck in the circus."

"Patrick!" You scolded, fighting the urge to throw your drink right in his cheeky face. "You were the one who told me I would be alone today! And you didn't even suggest that I go with you!"

Having said that, you continued on your way to the living room, but without holding Patrick's hand as you left the man behind, though his expression was still as bright as the New York sky inscribed with fireworks. "Wait a minute, honey," Bateman muttered, following you. "You made it pretty clear that you don't want to go to parties like that, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't," you lied, bursting into a soft laugh, swirling the glass in your hand. "Oh, this wine tastes amazing, by the way. Would you like to try some?"

The sudden change of subject just made him smile cheekily, and before he could answer, Bateman tucked his hands into the pockets of his Amrani pants and leaned against the door to your living room. "I know this wine is good, that's why I gave it to you, sweetheart," his brilliant, full-toothed smile made your heartbeat faster and for a moment you even forgot what you were doing. "But yes, I would definitely have a drink."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Grinch." You mumbled playfully and went to the kitchen.

Fireworks began to explode just as you opened the shelf to grab a glass for him, thanking God you managed to hold it in your hand. The loud sound coming from the outside drowned out the approaching footsteps behind you, so when a pair of strong, big arms wrapped around your waist, you didn't even have time to get scared, you just gasped and fell right into Patrick's tight embrace.

"I got you," he whispered in your ear, sucking on your lobe tenderly, but with an undisguised desire for something more intimate. "You little liar." Bateman pulled you closer with a possessive grip as his hand carefully found its way to yours to take the glass and place it on the smooth surface of the kitchen counter. "We don't want any trouble, do we?"

Panting, you turned halfway to look up into his brown, mesmerizing eyes. "Patrick," you let him nuzzle your cheek, his perfect nose brushing against yours, and then Bateman kissed you softly on your plump lips. "Mmhm, I'm so glad you came, I've missed you and —"

"Shhh," he silenced you with his thumb, his glowing gaze never leaving your beautiful face. "I know, darling," another sensual kiss was planted on your neck this time, eliciting a muffled moan from your half-open mouth. "You don't have to say anything else, just relax..." Patrick nipped at your throat more eagerly, leaving marks here and there, while his hands drew invisible ornaments all along your inviting little form. "...and let me take care of you."

Dear Lord, it was impossible to think clearly, not when he was talking to you like that and his hot lips were caressing that exact spot behind your ear, driving you absolutely crazy and you didn't even notice the way your hips were grinding against his hard groin, spurring him on to go even further. Groaning softly into your ear, Bateman couldn't wait any longer, his pants getting too tight with every brush of your ass against his throbbing length. 

"Fuck, babe, you're so gorgeous," he purred in a low voice, leaving a trail of wet kisses along your shoulder, then moving lower to your shoulder blade, pulling up your top to taste your skin. "Do you know what I was thinking about during the party?" Bateman asked suddenly, tugging at the lace of your shorts, tantalizing you with his intentions. 

"N-no, tell me," you closed your eyes from the intoxicating pleasure of his thin fingers darting across your belly, but when they finally reached your heated core, you couldn't keep a loud whimper from breaking out of your dry lips. "Please, a-ahhh, tell me everything."

"Uh, look at you," he quickly licked the back of your neck before grabbing a handful of your soaked pussy. "Such a curious little kitty," Patrick huffed, suddenly pulling down your shorts with your wet panties, leaving you no chance to even react, not to mention struggling. "I was thinking about you," Bateman carefully lifted one of your legs to rest it on the kitchen counter, then crouched down behind you, leaving a sloppy kiss on your lower back. "About fucking you senseless, to be exact."

"Oh my God," you mewled, clinging to the surface of the counter as you felt his hot breath between your legs. "I was... I was thinking about that too."

Smirking to himself, Bateman gave your ass a few firm squeezes before finally touching you where you wanted him most, his warm tongue feeling so fucking amazing on your swollen clit. "Oh, that's interesting," he cooed to you, enjoying the way your body reacted to his every move, it was always amusing and turned him on, the knowledge of having such power over you was enough to make him rock hard. "Looks like you're just pretending to be shy. Now spread these beautiful legs wider for me," as you did so he used both hands to massage your buttocks before sliding his digits along your tight lower lips to get better access to your wet entrance. "Good girl, so fucking good for me."

With that, he plunged his tongue into your tight hole, trapping you in place as you jerked in his grasp from the intense sensation in your lower abdomen, but that was only the beginning as the next moment, Bateman returned his assault on your little bud, rubbing it in intense circular motions.

"A-awwww, Patrick," your sweet voice was music to his ears, especially when he made you do those high-pitched wails, each time his tongue sank deeper into your soft, inner channel. "Please...that feels so..."

"Good?" he chuckled before peppering your dripping slit with little kisses. "Jesus, you're so yummy, mmmh," Patrick lapped at your pussy like a starved man, gripping your ass tightly to remind you who was in charge here. "I'd like to stay between these legs forever if I could." 

By the time he was done eating you out, you could barely breathe as you balanced on the edge of falling into the oblivion of pure ecstasy, his chiseled face covered in your sweet flavor, which he immediately cleaned up with his tongue.

"Patrick, it felt so damn amazing..." you whimpered and turned around to see him undoing his expensive suit, his red tie already loosened, making him look even sexier, if it was possible to be hotter than he was. "Please."

With a sassy grin, Bateman unbuttoned his blue shirt, revealing an absolutely mouth-watering view of his sculpted chest and perfect abs. "Please what, honey?" He cupped your face before pulling you into a ravenous kiss, his tongue swirling shamelessly around yours, making you moan at how heavenly he kissed you. "Use your words, make me proud of how bold you are."

A brisk unzipping sound hit you like a whip, giving you a strange feeling of liberation and excitement. "I want you, all of you. Whatever you will give me, I'll take gladly."

You could see his nostrils flaring with each word, as if you were a moth to a flame. Biting his lower lip, the man came closer just to pick you up as if you weighed nothing, and he walked into your bedroom, where the beautiful garlands on the window shone with all the colors of the rainbow, making the whole atmosphere truly magical, especially with the lights off.

Bateman didn't like it at first, but when he saw your childishly happy face, he gently placed you on the bed, towering over you like a mountain. "Lovely here."

"You like it?" Your question forced him to frown in irritation, but he just pecked your temple and shamelessly removed your top, leaving you completely bare before his hungry eyes. "I spent a lot of time decorating it."

Smiling ironically, Patrick placed a reassuring kiss on your temple before he removed the last of his clothes and you finally felt his soft skin against yours, you couldn't help but hook your hands and legs around him like a vine. "I like it." Of course, he didn't, you knew that, but it didn't matter because now you two belonged to each other, both physically and mentally. "C'mere, babygirl," Bateman suddenly sat down on the bed and invited you to get on top of him. "Today we're going to try something new. Do you trust me?"

Breathing heavily, you nodded, and the next thing you knew his thick cock was sliding along your wet folds as he held you tightly by your waist, manhandling you with such ease as if you were a feather. With a longing growl, the man pressed you closer to his strong body so he could graze your collarbone and play with your engorged nipples as he literally buried his face between your breasts, squeezing them with both hands.

"Mhhm, Patty!" You moaned as he sucked on two of your little peaks at once, his leaky tip already prodding at your dripping opening as Patrick decided to test the patience of both of you. "Please, oh-please, fuck me, please, fuck...fuck me!" 

Bateman snickered against your neck, sending little tickles that made you smile, and he couldn't stop himself from squeezing your cheeks as you looked so fucking cute and sinful right now. "Uh, I'll give you more than that."

After that, he carefully grabbed you by the back of your neck and slowly lowered you down onto his beefy dick, the second your bodies finally connected, you both let out loud moans and held each other tighter as if your lives depended on it.

"Mmhm-fuck," the man had to close his eyes from the way your pussy was clinging to his huge cock, encompassing it so tightly that you both saw stars as Patrick supported your bobbing movements, holding your hips in his big palms and rocking his own towards yours. "You feel...f-fucking amazing!"

"I love you, I love you, Patty!" you cried out desperately, looping your hands around his neck to pull him closer as your bodies intertwined like snakes, each move bringing so much pleasure as he could fuck you so deeply and lustfully in this position. "Please, c-cum inside me!"

Your words made his eyes open wide and then you heard a low, guttural growl as Bateman suddenly pushed you down, forcing you to lie on your back and lift your legs to press them against his broad chest as he began to pound harder, rolling his hips to stimulate your G-spot.

"Is that what my dear girl wants, huh?" The man asked, mesmerized by the sight of your bouncing breasts, the lewd sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling your bedroom, making you scream shamelessly in pure bliss as his swollen tip brushed relentlessly against your cervix, stimulating you in a way that could bring you to climax without even touching your clit. "'C'mon honey, milk my dick and I'll give you my cum." In addition to his dirty talk, Patrick pecked your ankle as gently as he could — on the verge of a frenzy, he could just ravish you until you couldn't move, but right now he was trying his best to focus on your release. "Do it for me, sweetheart, cum around my dick like a good girl!"

Creasing the sheets, you threw your head back onto the pillows from the pulsating sensation in your lower body. "Pat-Patty! A-aaahhh—" You choked on your own moan, writhing erratically around the bed, and only his strong arms managed to hold you in place as Bateman was aware that you were about to fall off the fucking bed.

"That's it, mhm," Patrick watched you attentively, relishing the way your eyebrows knit together from how hard you cum on his fat dick, your eyes closed and your lips frozen in a silent moan. "So fucking gorgeous, so fucking...mm-so fucking tight, fuck!"

Bateman shifted his position again, covering you from above, transferring his weight to his sturdy arms as he rammed into you like a jackhammer, you could feel his heavy balls slapping against your cunt in the obscenest way possible. And then the man finally collapsed inside you, painting your velvety walls white, pinning you down with his huge frame and biting your shoulder like an animal claiming its prey. You couldn't move and you were barely breathing, but you took him completely, until his hot liquid began to flow from your ruined pussy, flooding the sheets beneath you. Spent and exhausted, Patrick kissed and licked the mark he had just left before pressing his forehead against yours, holding you tightly in his arms and you knew he would never let you go as you were born to be his.

Moments later, you were standing next to the Christmas tree in your living room, Bateman sitting on the small couch, finally having his drink, but not wine as he managed to find some whiskey in your minibar. 

"Next time, let's put a Christmas tree in your apartment!" You suddenly blurted out, clapping your hands.

"No, don't even think about it, kitten," Patrick almost choked on his drink and coughed several times. "Oh, honey, don't make that face."

Damn, although you knew that Bateman didn't like all that stuff, it made you sad anyway, so the man had no choice but to comfort you here and now, before the situation got worse.

After putting the glass on the nearby coffee table, he stood up and approached you from behind, hugging you, but you were still pouting. "Listen," he whispered into your ear. "I have something for you, something special that will make you forget everything."

"What is it?" 

Thrilled, Patrick slipped into the pocket of his robe, which he had brought especially to your place because he couldn't stand any other robes but his own, and took out a small, velvety box. "And what do you think it is?"

As soon as you turned around and saw this little box, something in your mind flashed like fireworks. "Oh my God, Patrick..." you covered your face in your hands from shock. "Is that..."

Bateman opened the box in one swift motion, revealing a magnificent ring that shone brightly, reflecting the illumination of the Christmas tree. "I want us to meet next Christmas in a different status," he murmured, taking the ring in his hand. "You know what I mean?" Tears welled in your eyes as you couldn't believe this was happening. "Will you be my wife, (y/n)?"

At first, you couldn't say anything because you were shocked, but then you managed to whisper. "Yes, yes, of course I will," and then you snuggled into his warm embrace, allowing him to put the ring on your finger and kiss your forehead, and this kiss was different because now you were his fiancée. "I love you, I love you so much!"

With a bright grin on his flawless face, Patrick rested his chin on the top of your head and stroked your hair. "Merry Christmas, my dear little girl. I love you too."

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[kisseobie]

sugar sorbet

pairings: jongseob x reader

warnings: nsfw (mdni)

tags: established relationship, soft dom!jongseob, cunnilingus, consensual somno, pussy drunk seob hehe, cum eating, fingering, honestly i think that’s it ?

a/n: something short 4 the girls.. bare faced orange haired pussy eater seob save me….

your breathing is getting noticeably heavier, a bit sporadic as you start to stir from sweet slumber, eyebrows slightly furrowed while your dizzied head attempts to catch up with the familiar feeling of pleasure your body is experiencing. your boyfriend, eyes still fixated on your face, takes notice of this, smirking into your pussy as his tongue continues to trace circles onto your puffy clit. the wet muscle alternates between swirling and prodding against your mound, and finally, you’re fully conscious, sleepy eyes peering down at jongseob’s determination to please you. the salivating sight has you throwing your head back against your silky pillows, one hand silently maneuvering itself to tug at his tangerine bedhead as your hips begin to rut inconsistently against his pretty face, his pretty lips. “seob..” is all that comes out your mouth in an airy sigh, but it’s enough to convey all that you feel for the boy below you, and he’s humming into your skin in acknowledgement before pulling off of your cunt to greet you with a cocky “morning birthday girl”.

you sigh again, smiling just the slightest in disbelief, head hazy with lust and admiration. whines escape your chapped lips at various octaves, voice still a bit rough from sleep as jongseob replaces his tongue on your clit with his boyish fingers, writing out invisible x’s and o’s into the sensitive pearl, just the way you like it, just the way you’ve taught him countless of times before. he reads you just like how he reads the literature he often finds himself lost in, late at night with nothing to accompany him but his clip-on night light. he worships you as he would a jade statue. he is irrevocably yours, there is no doubt about it.

you’ve lifted your head at this point, not wanting to lose sight of your boyfriend between your tanned legs, savoring you in a way that sings “i love you”. however did you happen to find a boy so willing to give you everything you never knew you desired, everything you never knew you needed? your heart can’t help but throb for him at the thought, and you think it might just rip out of your frame and enter his own. wet beads of tears descend down your cheeks before you can even comprehend that you’ve begun to sob. jongseob, intently observing your undergoing of a plethora of emotions, senses your need to be grounded, and begins to circle his thumbs into the deep dimples of your hips whilst placing hot, warm kisses on your cunny.

another “seob..” escapes your lips, this time louder than before and oozing of desperation, and you have to hold back a laugh at the fact that you, once again, have been rendered speechless, almost as if your boyfriend has sent you into a trance. funny enough, your inability to speak with his head between your thighs is nothing new to jongseob, if his coos of “i know baby, i know” are anything to go by. you press the back of your hand against your wet face in attempt of wiping away your hot tears, just so you can really admire the view before it eventually comes to a halt. you realize the wiping does nothing to stop liquid from once again filling your eyes, blurring your vision once again as jongseob’s head becomes a flurry of muted tans and oranges in your line of sight. with no warning, he pushes two fingers past the rim of your entrance until they’re knuckle-deep, and just like that, your tumbling, falling into a state of sweet heavenly bliss as the fat of your thighs lock your boyfriend’s head in place between them. your hips gyrate sporadically against his wet fingers and tongue until you’ve ridden out the waves of your climax. you can barely hear his loud groans into your heat as he laps up every drop of release that drips onto his tongue. he’s with you through it all, grabbing onto one of your hands and binding your fingers into his own, his tight grip on your palm acting as your parachute, saving you from falling deeper and deeper into madness.

jongseob gives you a few much needed minutes to really come down from your high, but not without pushing his body back up to your level and peppering feather-light kisses all over your face, making sure to pay special attention to kissing away the glossy tear streaks that still litter your cheeks. “i love you. i love you. i love you.” he whispers into your skin in between each kiss.

“happy birthday baby.”

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© kisseobie, please do not repost my writing!

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