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notjustjavierpena · 2 months

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Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Haven’t written about these two for a while! I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Joel finds an excuse to get out of watching the Olympics but only so he can go upstairs and find you getting ready to go out while listening to the summer’s biggest album.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, basically pwp, dad’s best friend, age gap, immorality kink, dirty talk, groping, fingering, possessive behavior. pet names, Daddy kink, unprotected piv sex, rough sex, anal threat, creampie, y2k vibes, brat summer

Word count: 4.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58023772

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The TV is loud in your father's living room as the Olympics are on but Joel can concentrate on nothing but the thought of you being upstairs even if he had looked forward to seeing the competition in gymnastics this afternoon. He is here because it is tradition to watch whatever sports are on during the summer with your father, his best friend, but nothing feels the same since he started seeing you behind his mate’s back.

Carefully, he shifts his weight on the leather couch cushion, the heat of Texas making the material stick uncomfortably to the slightly exposed skin of his thighs. It creaks as he changes his position, leaning forward to grab his near-empty beer and sneak a look at your dad out of the corner of his eye. He tries to figure out if he knows that Joel has had his face buried between his daughter’s thighs just yesterday but he doesn’t even flinch, too absorbed in the intricate routine on the screen.

He leans back again and takes a long sip of the bottle in his hand, emptying it in case he has to think of a reply to a sudden question about you. It doesn’t come but instead, he receives a raised brow.

“You sure are thirsty there, Miller,” he says with a gentle grin, playful and normal in everything he does so that Joel may relax a little more. He laughs with embarrassment in return, a blush of guilt that he hopes is taken as shame creeping up from under the neck of his t-shirt.

“Hot day,” he answers simply. He covers up his train of thought with a conversation, “Did you see that landing? That was something else.”

Your father seems satisfied with that answer to the degree where he turns back to the television, “And that dismount. They’re gettin’ better and better each year.”

Joel follows his line of sight, fixated upon the tight suit of a female gymnast, and chuckles under his breath. He puts the bottle back on the coffee table, knowing he is no better than that; he can almost hear your soft laughter from upstairs as you chat with someone on the phone, can almost feel the warmth of your gorgeous body against his. This push and pull between what he should do and what he wants to do is slowly driving him to insanity.

Your father slaps the armrest in excitement as another woman does her routine without faltering, “Did you see that? Gold medal for sure.”

“Yes,” Joel lies like he has gotten so good at lately, for the first time in his entire life not very interested in sports, “Best thing I’ve seen so far, think you’re right.”

He is more busy with thinking about how to act in case you make your way downstairs, wearing a cute sundress and smiling at him like you always do but still in a way that it took him way too long to notice. He hopes you might give him the thrill of making an appearance soon.

During commercial break, your father gets up from the couch to get more beers from the kitchen and Joel has time to glance towards the stairs. He cranes his neck to see if you are standing at the top but he is left disappointed, left to imagine what you are doing upstairs in your childhood bedroom with the Hello Kitty computer mat. He remembers the way your tits were pressed against it the first time he fucked you and shamelessly hopes he’ll get to have you in this house again just once before summer ends. Perhaps today? No, he shouldn’t want to do anything with you in this house.

Time passes. Nothing happens. It’s with relief and disappointment that he concludes that he won’t see you, with a smile as he is handed another cold beer to not quite quench his thirst.

“Five more routines to go,” your father says with his glasses resting on the tip of his nose as he looks through the program on his phone, “Sprints later. Always exciting.”

“No volleyball?” Joel hates himself for joking with a wink.

“Not watching women in tiny shorts, are we?” Joel nearly jumps at the sudden sound of your voice, blushing at his own distasteful joke, “Didn’t know you were a pervert, Mr. Miller.”

“Mind your own business, you,” your father tuts with his eyes on his phone. It takes a moment before he glances over the back of the couch, giving Joel’s own eyes a second to stare at you while he clenches his jaw at the sight of your white sundress, tied in around your waist. You look radiant, pure, and forbidden. He wants to reach out to touch the bit of your thigh that peeks out.

“Another shitty day for women,” you roll your eyes teasingly and nudge him playfully in a way that sends electricity through his entire being. However, Joel tenses up at hearing you use foul language, an inside rule between you that he cannot tell you that you’ve broken.

Your father says your name in disapproval and glances apologetically at him, “Where did you learn to talk like that? Sure as heck ain’t from me. The kids you’re hanging out with tonight?”

Joel’s grip tightens on the couch as you giggle sweetly, the sound enchanting him to the point where he thinks of everything off-putting that he can come up with so his cock might flag again. He hopes it doesn’t strain against the loose fabric of his shorts. You are doing this on purpose, teasing him relentlessly now that he can do nothing about it, and he is so turned on that it makes him feel ill.

“Oh, you old man. You can’t keep me in line anymore. I’m over 21; I can do whatever I want,” you stand behind the couch and wrap your arms around your father, kissing his cheek from behind. Joel looks at the way your ass sticks out, quickly catching himself ogling when your father’s eyes fix on him with embarrassment.

“She’s incorrigible,” he says with resignation, patting the hand that you rest on his shoulder. Joel can only imagine what would happen if your dad knew what he was thinking about.

“I can imagine her being her own boss,” he laughs to make himself feel less like a creep but doesn’t quite succeed when your dad joins in.

“Why are you here?” Joel hears him finally say.

“I’m not drinking tonight,” you begin, pulling back a little to look at your father properly, “Can I borrow the car?”

He frowns for a moment but then nods, “Alright but be careful.”

“Always am, thank you, Dad. Love you,” you peck his cheek again to feel him smile, stretching to your full height. The wind blows in from the door to the garden and Joel catches a sniff of your perfume as you leave the living room, “I’ll go change now. See you, Dad! Joel!”

You disappear upstairs again and the atmosphere shifts significantly. Your absence sends him into small talk with your father, going over the usual topics of work, sports, and family. He tells your dad about a big upcoming project, that Sarah’s doing well at college, and that he actually never really cared much for cycling despite it being a massive hit each time the Olympics are held.

“Actually, I might head up for a sec,” he says when thoughts of you have raged long enough in his mind, making him shift in his seat before pushing himself to stand. He is too curious about seeing you, too desperate to have you alone, “Nature’s calling, and I can’t wait for the commercials.”

Your father chuckles, eyes still glued to the television where they are handing out medals, “Sure thing, Joel. You know where it is. Tell my offspring to get out if she’s barricaded the door.”

Joel nods, giving a relieved smile, and quickly makes his way upstairs. His heart pounds with the anticipation of the moment ahead. As he reaches the top of the stairs, he hesitates briefly, listening for any sound of where you might be, and sure enough, he hears the faint hum of music coming from the bathroom and walks towards it.

Without knocking, he opens the bathroom door and finds you in front of the mirror, applying makeup to a song that he has never heard. The sight of you makes his erection come right back; you have changed into a pleated miniskirt that stops way above your knees, making the skin where your thighs meet your ass peek out. Above the waistline, he can see the waistband of your pink underwear and he has to adjust himself in his shorts.

“Where the hell are you going looking like that?” He demands to know, shutting the door behind him with a click. The music fades to the background as you wiggle your hips automatically.

You look up from your lips, catching his eye in the mirror, and smile sweetly while applying lip gloss. The color makes your lips seem plumper, the shine most likely to accentuate your cupid’s bow if you were to stretch your lips around his cock. You look away again, purposely acting like a brat, “Out with friends. No boys allowed.”

“Seems like you’re dressed to impress someone,” he retorts. If you were to check him out again, you would see the way his eyes are going down your intoxicating figure. He stops at your ankles, knowing how you would be standing on your toes if he touched you between your legs, before going all the way up to your face again.

You snap the lid of the lipgloss closed with a click and place it on the counter. You grab the edge with both hands, still looking at him through the mirror, “Did it ever occur to you that I might be dressed to impress you, Daddy?”

Joel does a sharp intake of air at hearing his nickname. He takes a step closer and you allow him. Without a second thought, he places his hands on your gorgeous hips and squeezes until your giggles make the upbeat song sound like garbage, “You’ll have me thinking about you all night with this skirt, kiddo. I’m not sure I’ll have it.”

“So what you’re saying is that I’ll feel your menacing presence all night?” You grin playfully, making a show of arching your back the way you sometimes do when he hits the right spot inside of you.

“I should run behind you to make sure you don’t expose your pretty pussy to strangers,” Joel lets his dominant hand slide down your thigh until he can clutch the fabric of your miniskirt. He pulls it down roughly to stress his point, covering you up as much as he can.

“You’re pulling it the wrong way, Daddy,” you tell him with a bratty grin, chewing your bottom lip to play innocent, “Don’t you want to have a peek? I’ll let you see up under it.”

“Daddy can’t promise only a peek,” he replies, making a point of his words by letting his bulge graze your ass. You push back into him to allow him whatever he wants without saying it explicitly, earning a moan that’s loud enough for you to reach for the small Bluetooth speaker and increase the volume a little. Your father must question the noise but he hopes that he simply thinks you’ve gone to your bedroom instead, letting the door stay open.

“What the hell is this garbage music?” Joel asks as he steps back to allow you to reach back effortlessly. You reach behind you to grip the hem of your skirt, lifting it with deliberate slowness. It is a teasing gesture, more about the act itself than the reveal of your lacy underwear that clings to your cunt and gives him the perfect outline.

“Stop sounding ancient,” you tease, shifting your weight from one foot to the other to strut your ass. You’re leaning forward a little to be more appealing, so easy to push forward so you have to grip the sink.

“You’re making it sound like a problem, Princess,” he replies with a chuckle. Yes, he could shove you down onto the counter but he chooses to finger the crotch of your barely-covering panties. You don’t seem to have predicted that he would actually dare to touch you in your father’s house, so you fall forward when he pulls your underwear to the side and sinks two fingers into your wet slit. He smiles tauntingly at you in the mirror, “Don’t act like you don’t cream yourself over older men like me or we wouldn’t be in this mess together.”

“What are you doing?” You ask with your glossy mouth hanging open. He turns his wrist to press against your g-spot and sure enough, you’re already on your toes with a filthy moan tumbling out your mouth. He admires the way you always manage to look stupid and cute when he touches you, and he notices that whenever he doesn’t pump his fingers inside of you, you fuck yourself onto them.

“I ain’t doing nothing,” he says casually and slowly drags his two fingers over the spot that belongs to him, the spot he always searches for and likes to stay on. The song is horrible for fucking but it’s loud enough that you can’t be heard downstairs and quiet enough that he can hear the wet squelch when he goes a little faster, “I’m just giving you something to remember me by when you’re showing your pussy to the whole world.”

“That’s not… Joel,” you say his name and he almost believes that you want him to stop but then you arch your back just how he likes and he slips his thumb between your folds to rub your clit. He has your cunt in an iron grip, flicking his wrist repeatedly to see beads of slick threatening to drip onto the tiled floor.

“Nuh-uh,” he sternly says and halts just a few seconds, “You don’t get to call me that when I hear you use your potty mouth around here. Who do you answer to?”

“You, Daddy, I’m sorry,” you whine and earn added pressure to your clit. You keen but then the song ends, and the both of you hold your breath for a moment. Courageously, you whisper, “He’ll hear.”

“Not if you shut your mouth,” Joel barks quietly back, relieved when another annoying pop song comes out of the speaker. He catches the pout on your lips in the mirror, the fake offense on your face that has his dick throbbing in his shorts. He needs to fuck you soon, hasn’t got a long time to do it before your father will get suspicious of what he is up to, but he won’t shove his cock in you before you have begged him to do it.

Then the line comes with a breathless moan, “You shouldn’t be doing this.”

Oh, so that’s the card you want to play to get fucked. He pushes his fingers deeper into you until his knuckles brush your ass, avoiding your g-spot altogether, and practically lifts you on his digits. Your whole chest lays down over the sink and counter, your whole weight on your front instead of on your toes. It must hurt but not more than a dull ache when he pays attention to your clit as he does it.

“I sure as fuck shouldn’t but I didn’t think I’d find you dressed like a little cockhungry girl in here,” he tuts and abuses your perfect cunt. God, it sounds like he is splashing with water by now.

“I-I should be with someone my own age,” your voice shakes, your walls start to pulse slowly around him. It becomes hard for you to continue your chastising, ”God, you feel so good, Daddy.”

“Yeah? Ancient Daddy should pull out his fingers and fuck you while you’re on the verge of coming for him?” Joel mocks. He pushes down and drags the pads of his fingers against your front wall on the way out. His fingers are white with your creamy slick. He smears it over your quivering slit, talking softly while you are almost cross-eyed, “I need you, baby. Daddy has to do it even though it’s wrong.”

“No,” you protest but don’t mean it. You look back at the sound of his shorts being pulled down, whimpering feebly as his hard cock comes into your view.

“Yes, sweetheart, I gotta,” he holds the base of his cock in his hand, slowly dragging the tip through your messy folds. He pushes against your ass first, chuckling darkly when you tense up and shake your head. He teases you, “No? That’s not where you want it? Don’t want to get ass-fucked with your old man downstairs? This skirt surely tells me you like taking it up the ass.”

“N-no,” you let your head hang between your shoulders, exhaling shakily, “I want it in my pussy, Daddy. Please. Until you come inside.”

Joel gives in when you ask so nicely. He presses the head against where you need it the most, slowly letting your warm walls engulf his length while you release a relieved breath. He growls from low in his throat as he buries himself deep inside, touching where his fingers have been just moments before.

“You sure change your mind quickly, baby,” he points out after starting a rough rhythm that makes his thighs smack into your ass, the crotch of your panties straining against your cheek that bounces in rhythm with his thrusts. He settles his hands on your hips, dragging you onto his cock as much as he spears you onto it, “First you say no, and now you wanna get bred? What happened to my good girl?”

“I know it’s bad but it feels so good,” you pant softly, nearly sounding animated with how you moan and groan. You’ve reached to grope your tits through your lime green top, caressing yourself greedily as you are drowned out by some lady singing about Von Dutch, “Don’t stop, Daddy, please don’t stop.”

“Fucking hate this song,” Joel grumbles breathlessly while he keeps a steady pace, nudging something just right inside of you because you fly forwards, “Don’t tell me you’ll go out dancing to this.”

“I’ll come to it,” you groan, sucking in a breath as you start to squeeze around his girth, “Gonna come.”

“Give it to me,” he demands with heavy breathing. He lets one of his hands slide up your spine until it sits on your neck. He tilts his hips forward so he can pound you, rewarded with a squeak that he finds adorable.

Suddenly, the room goes completely quiet. The both of you turn your heads towards the speaker, noting at the same moment that its battery has run out and the possibility of getting heard has upped dramatically.

None of you say a word. Joel even tries to stop his heavy breathing, putting pressure on the back of your head when you squeeze him by wriggling slightly. He makes a quiet noise of disapproval, “Stop it.”

“We aren’t done,” you whisper with a wounded whimper. You try to fuck yourself onto him, “Daddy.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he bites, listening for potential footsteps that could lead to his doom. Instead, he hears your father cheer in reaction to something on the television. Should he? He can’t go downstairs again with a raging hard-on and there’s no way in hell that he is jerking off in here alone like some perverse madman. He makes a decision.

Leaning down over your very still frame, he catches onto the tears that have welled up in your eyes and whispers, “I’m gonna fuck a load into you and you’re gonna be quiet all the way through, got it?”

You nod frantically. Joel’s hand on your hip tightens and he pushes to stretch to his full height again. He bottoms out inside of you, “If you can do that, I’ll let you come on it, okay?”

You nod again, pushing back eagerly to impossibly swallow more of him. With determination and efficiency, he draws back and slams into you with all the muscles in his neck straining to keep quiet. You feel like you have been molded into a perfect sleeve for his cock, like he couldn’t imagine that anyone could ever live up to what you are giving him right now; cheeks bouncing, spine arching, and walls clenching as you teeter on your high.

You come with a tiny whine that he’ll allow and he comes right along with you, high on the danger and the fact that you belong to him so desperately. He manages to just sound like he is doing a sharp intake of air, hinting at a growl, before he fills you with his warm seed, each pulse of your soft muscles milking him dry.

It is a dangerously addictive sensation. He pumps in and out of you until he is too sensitive, slipping out of your used cunt so he can see the drip of his load. He stumbles backward, tucks himself, sticky and overstimulated, back into his shorts, and watches you pull down your underwear and move to the toilet to not spill all over the floor.

You sport a lazy little smile, satisfaction all over your face. It dawns on him what he has done - the deprivation of it - so he tries to distract the feelings of disgust that he has towards himself, “Why are you going out anyway?”

You are both still panting. He grabs onto the sink to steady himself, feeling old as he leans against it while you pee, your knees falling inwards so you look innocent compared to what you have just done together.

“Getting a tattoo,” you reply with a dirty little smile.

That surely changes Joel’s train of thought. He straightens a little, “Of what?”

“Don’t know yet but I’ll tell you where,” you reach to point to your hip bone, measuring about an inch with your thumb and index finger. You beam girlishly at him and he feels his chest tighten with affection, “Right here. Cute, right?”

“Cute,” he manages to say as his mind automatically imagines it right there on your hip but the word comes out a little rougher than intended. He is let in on a little secret that only a few will be allowed to see. Perhaps, he’ll be the one who gets to be the very first to see it, or maybe the one who gets to be the closest.

You finish, wipe yourself, and wash your hands. Then once again, you are close to him but this time it is chest to chest. You link your arms around him, leaning close, “Perhaps I’ll get something that reminds me of that one time I hooked up with Joel Miller, my dad’s best friend.”

“Dangerous game you are playing,” Joel reaches down to graze the spot on your hip with his thumb. He is so into you that it is ridiculous, smirking as you bat your eyelashes at him and filling him with youthful energy that he remembers from crushes in his teenage days. The idea of you marking yourself for him has his head in a spin and has his cock stirring again.

“What can I say? I’m a brat,” you shrug with a grin and when you both hear your father shout at the TV again, you grin with your tongue in your cheek. Yes, you are.

“Oh, babydoll, you make me wanna kiss you,” he almost growls as he leans into you, eyes focused on your cute glossy lips as he tries to capture them despite knowing that he won’t be allowed to touch them.

“Nope, not the gloss,” you tease and gently push him away on his chest. When he tries again, you hold your hand over his mouth and he groans against your soft fingers like from not getting his way. You grin, eyes shining with affection, “Now get out so I can clean myself up. And don’t tell my dad about the tattoo.”

“Fine,” Joel gives you one last lingering look, squeezing your hip before pulling away. He leaves the bathroom reluctantly, stepping backward as he walks out the door to keep his eyes on. You roll your eyes at him without being able to stop smiling.

When he is out in the hallway again, he heads back down the stairs and into the living room. He pats the back of the sofa to make himself known in the room once more, startling your father slightly.

“There you are,” he says, watching Joel walk around the sofa, “What took you so long?”

“Got talking with your kid,” he answers as casually as he can muster. However, your father seems to be completely disinterested in whatever he has been doing upstairs.

“What? Oh, yeah. At least you got her to turn off that awful noise she calls music. Come on, you’ll miss the final run,” he says obliviously, and so Joel joins him in the chair opposite his couch to make sure he doesn’t smell how he probably reeks of sex.

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onsomenewsht · 2 months

Text

I just wanna feel something, tell me where to go

About when she wants to win gold and you talk too much but don’t answer her questions

《 read part 2, 'cause everybody knows something I don't wanna know

》 Alexia Putellas x fencer!Reader

》 words count: + 1.7k

》 the mountain’s call [way of saying]: the irresistible pull or urge to pursue a challenging goal or adventure

“You look like someone who needs to see the best place in the entire Village”

Alexia looks up from the pass’ lanyard she’s fidgeting with, finding your open smile even before spotting your outstretched hand. Her eyebrow rises on its own accord, always sceptical around strangers.

The Olympic Village is big enough to welcome the egos of some of the best athletes in the world, but not big enough to avoid their clashing. It’s actually encouraged.

Within a certain limit, obviously.

The footballer sees you in passing almost every day, given that the Spanish Team rooms are basically neighbours with the Italian Team ones. Your outgoing attitude and friendly nature make you pretty popular around the village. The fact you’re easy on the eyes and quite the talk among the players isn’t lost on Alexia either – she likes good gossip like anybody else.

“Come on, Reina, don’t let me stand here like an idiot”, your teasing words take her back from her overthinking one more time.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere celebrating that?”, she points to the medal hanging around your neck.

A genuine smile rises on both your faces as you mindlessly hold the piece of gold to look at it one more time, feeling like this is some kind of dream.

Your gaze falls on Alexia, still sitting in a corner of a communal break room when her teammates are cheering all around for one more victory in their Olympic journey.

“I’m gonna celebrate for the next four years, I can spare some time for you”

“Congratulations, by the way, I heard it’s not the first one”, she takes your hand as you burst out laughing, helping her on her feet.

You may have hosted the closest thing to a party you can do in the Village when, just earlier this week, you won your first gold medal.

It’s not your first Olympics, it’s not even your first Olympic medal. But finally being a gold medalist? An Olympic Champion? You sure could not let it pass over in silence.

The short walk is filled with small talks and giggles, you do most of the talking but Alexia’s grin stays firmly on her face the entire time. You notice her rosy cheeks and more relaxed stance, holding yourself high with pride to finally see the blonde so carefree around you.

“How did you even find this place?”

The night lights of Paris really turn the city into some sort of fantastic dream, the view is easily able to take the breath away from the little balcony you open for her. You’re on top of the biggest complex in the Village, the usual chaos that fills the French capital is somehow just background noise.

“Fencing is an ancient discipline”, you start, barely avoiding Alexia’s playful hit on your arm at your documentary-like approach.

“Jokes aside, the Italian school basically created fencing, but then the French school redefined the system to what it’s like today and they will not shut up about it. It’s a long lasting rivalry between two countries that, sportwise, hate each other”

“Everyone hates the French, sportwise”, the Spain captain agrees, mimicking your move as you sit on the floor of the balcony.

“Fencing into the Grand Palais in fucking Paris is like playing every single game as a World Cup final against the host country in a stadium filled with their fans and colours”

“Dramatic”

“Of course! You’re putting Italian and French people in the same place, asking them to fight with swords, literally. It’s gonna be dramatic”, you let your gaze wander around as the blonde’s one tries to find something inside you.

Alexia waits for you, understanding just now how your cheerful and playful behaviour hides something more complex.

She has turned on your Team Final on her way back from the stadium, curious about it – about you – after the little party you put on for the entire Village following your Individual Final victory.

She got nothing about what was happening, not understanding how some hits were good and others were given away or not counted. She prides herself on being able to recognise good athleticism and quick leg ability though. The way you move on the piste, quickly but precisely in every single gesture, is mesmerising. The way your mind acts even faster than your body is even more captivating.

What surprised her the most is the way you hold back.

While your opponents celebrate any conceded hits and your teammates celebrate loudly all the successful points, you stay stoic and firm the entire time.

It’s something she doesn’t expected from you, usually so excited about everything.

That’s probably one of the reasons that brings her here with you in the first place.

“You don’t look dramatic when you fence”

“Oh, you watched me?”

“It was the bare minimum after your detailed commentary after our last game”

“I’m Italian, I’m a football fan from birth”, you say, rolling your eyes humorously, not ready to reveal that the Spanish team is the only one you care about keeping up with during this Olympic tournament.

Alexia Putellas just admitted she turned on your Final to see you win a gold medal.

“Wait, let’s just go back to you watching me fence”

She smile at your weak attempt to avoid her question, genuinely amused about you but pretty sure you’re gonna tell her everything she asks – eventually.

A comfortable silence between the two of you fills the air for some minutes, somehow guiding your bodies closer.

“How did you find this place?”, the Catalan winks when you turn to look at her.

“I hate fencing with the French”, you start to explain after a bit with a serious note underneath your voice, “I lost my last Olympic Individual Final against a reckless fencer with the most annoying Parisian accent ever”

Another moment passes, Alexia doesn’t pressure you but can feel you relax when she places her hand on your knee.

“Last time I was in Paris, I injured myself. I was out for nine months and lost two major tournaments. This Olympics being hosted here as I was supposed to redeem myself and prove to be good enough at the same time? Really took a turn on me at first”, you avoid her gaze as you sum up one of your biggest fears to a stranger on a balcony viewing Paris’ landscape.

“I needed a place to escape without running away”

“And here we are, facing Paris from a hiding spot”

How the footballer manages to understand you so well in such a short amount of time, in such an unusual setting, is really something that surprises you. Your eyes meet and you can distinctly feel your heart skip a bit.

“I befriended a handyman, this floor is for staff only as some sort of control room”

“This explains the private balcony”

“I should have started with this and not the unasked story of my life”

You can still feel Alexia’s hand on you, mindlessly caressing your leg as you try not to implode and hide the redness of your face. She smirks.

“We’ll play France in the semifinal”, she says with a hint of disbelief and irony.

“Fuck the French”, you state solemnly, “It’s basically a wanna-be repeat of the Champions League’s final, you’re going to be fine”

“If you just jinxed it–”

“I did not, I know an Olympic Champion when I see one”

The burst of confidence and the firmness in your voice, despite the easy way you’re both talking about Spain’s next game, are enough to subside the noises inside Alexia’s head – your voice is a good distraction and your presence is a welcoming discovery.

“How is it?”

“What?”

The blonde’s finger points at the piece of gold still hanging on your neck, you’re just glad it’s her other hand as you look back and forth between her and the medal.

“You won enough to know how it is”

“It’s my first Olympics”

“In Italian there’s a word, I don’t know if you have the same difference in Spanish. It’s olimpionico and it’s not like olimpico – olympic”

“You never go for the straight answer, do you?”, she interrupts you with a teasing smile.

“No, never done anything the straight way my entire life, now let me go on with my wise and deep talk”, you graciously – and quite bravely on your part, if you must say so yourself – drop your arm around her shoulder, releasing a breath as she smoothly adjusts her body closer.

“Olimpionico is formed from the Greek ᾿Ολύμπια, which means ‘competitions of Olympia’ so our Olympic Games, and the root of νικάω, that I don’t know to explain how but can be translated with ‘victory’ or ‘winner’ and you have to trust me on this one”, you’ve never been happier with your strict education and the Italian questionable school system.

“I’m still waiting for the point”

“I mean to say we have a specific word for an Olympic athlete who doesn’t just compete in the Olympic Games but actually wins”

“You won enough Olympic medals to know how it is”

“The last time we won bronze as a team and I lost the gold against the obnoxious Frenchwoman, Alexia, keep up”, you’re perfectly aware of her hand on your thigh and her eyes burning on your face – she definitely noticed your red cheeks and the cracks on your walls.

“It’s my first Individual gold and this is my first Team gold, it’s– I don’t know how to explain, but it’s–”

“It’s olimpionico?”, she indulges you, her accent around the Italian word is way more charming than the French one.

“You get it”

“Olympic Champion sounds so uncool now”

As the night turns into a darker shade of black and the Paris lights really do the city’s name justice, you feel like there’s something profound linking you with the athlete curled on your side.

It’s a shared desire to prove yourself to everyone, while wanting to make just a few close people proud. It’s a shared hunger to be the best among some of the greatest, but to make sure the ones around you shine as much.

It’s a shared feeling, deep inside, telling you’re right where you’re supposed to be.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #alexia putellas #fencer!reader #woso #olympics au #ap11 #here we go again #hope you like it #even if you dont care about fencing #my wo(rd)so

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in-my-feels-probably · 1 year

Note

slytherin boys or mattheo riddle as a dad please?

Slytherin Boys as Dads

Request: slytherin boys or mattheo riddle as a dad please?

Hi! So sorry for the wait, this one took me a while for some reason. I was kinda vague with these, but hopefully you like them. Thank you for the request :)

(Warnings: mentions of bad home lives, insecurity, let me know if i missed anything)

—

Theodore Nott:

deathly afraid of being anything like his own family or father. he’d be a little apprehensive about having kids in the first place, but he’d eventually be more open to the idea once you promised to be there every step of the way and take things slow.

the proudest dad ever. the type of dad to clap and cheer once they use the bathroom on their own for the first time. he literally wouldn’t care (within reason) how good they’re doing at a sport or in school, he’s just proud that they’re putting in effort.

he’s got a short temper. i think he’d get a little snappy, and then immediately regret it once the tears started or they got angry and snapped back. he’d put on a brave face in the moment, but he’d for sure cry about it later to you.

he has such a way with words, and he’s so imaginative. they’d ask him kid shit that makes no sense, and he’s just deadpan answering them without hesitation. and it would be like that even when the kids were grown and moving out of the house. he just knows the right thing to say.

wouldn’t want a lot of kids. he’s too easily overwhelmed, and although he’s got the love to go around, he just can’t stomach the idea of being responsible for that many lives. one or two is enough for him, and he’d love them with all of his heart.

Every milestone your little girl met had Theo in shambles. No matter how big or small, he treated every single one of them like she had cured cancer or won an Olympic gold medal. When she started growing more independent and wanting to do things on her own, it wasn’t any different.

Theo came into your room after saying goodnight to your daughter, tears welling in his eyes.

You stumbled out of bed to approach him, holding him steady by his shoulders when he wavered. “What happened? Are you alright, love?”

“She made her own bed,” he said, letting out a shaky breath. “She didn’t want me to tuck her in. She said she wanted to try doing it on her own this time. And she did it so well.”

You could feel your heart warm, wrapping your arms around Theo’s shoulders. You gently rocked him back and forth, running your hand through his hair. He pulled back, quickly wiping under his eyes.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, a sheepish smile on his face. “She’s just so smart.”

“Don’t be sorry, love. Just wait till she gets to Hogwarts. She’ll be top of her class, just like her Dad was.”

Your words sent him spiraling again, his cheeks paling. You chuckled, bringing your hand up to hook a finger under his chin, turning him to look at you. You spoke gently, giving him a warm smile.

“But that’s not for a long time. We’ve still got years with her before she does something substantial for us to fawn over her for. Let’s not worry about it yet.”

Theo groaned, shaking his head. “I’m always worried.”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his middle. You rested your cheek against his chest, listening to the faint thump of his heart.

“Did you ever see this coming for us?” He mumbled, resting his cheek on the top of your head. “Back at Hogwarts, I can remember wanting a life with you. But this isn’t what I was picturing. I used to not even want kids—Merlin, how could I have not wanted kids?”

You shrugged, closing your eyes and breathing him in. “I always knew you would be a good Dad. I pictured some sort of family with you.”

Before Theo could respond, your little girl came around the corner into your room, immediately running for Theo’s leg. She wrapped herself around him, playfully hanging from his pant leg.

“What are you doing out of bed, silly girl?” You asked, bending down to scoop her up.

“I have a question,” she babbled, absentmindedly reaching her hand up to squeeze your nose.

You laughed, passing her over to Theo. “Ask your Dad. I’m sure he’s got an answer.”

She wrapped her arm around Theo’s neck, tiredly rubbing her eyes. Theo looked down at her adoringly, patiently waiting for her to ask her question.

“Why can’t I see my eyes? I can see your eyes and Mum’s eyes, but not mine. Why?”

You had to stifle a giggle, turning your face so your little girl wouldn’t see you laughing. But when you looked back up, Theo was just smiling down at her, like it was the most normal thing she had said to him all day.

“I’ll tell you, and then it’s off to bed with you, darling,” he explained, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “You see with your eyes—through your eyes. That’s why you can’t normally see them themselves. But technically, you can see your eyes. Do you want me to show you, pretty girl?”

She looked up at him with wide eyes, nodding excitedly. Theo grinned, chuckling as he looked over at you. He nodded towards the bathroom where the mirror was, shifting your little girl on his hip.

“I’ll be right back,” he said to you, before whisking your daughter off to the bathroom.

They giggled together all the way down the hall.

—

Lorenzo Berkshire:

the sweetest most dedicated man in the early stages. he would NEVER let you do more work than him. you’re not climbing up high, you’re not lifting something heavy, you’re not doing anything that keeps you on your feet. he’s BOLTING to beat you to it.

would give no fucks about gender. i think he’d absolutely adore having a little girl, but a boy is just as good. because he’d get to raise him up into a man the both of you are proud of.

gets overwhelmed easily for sure. would absolutely stress about not doing enough or upsetting the kids, and you’d have to remind him that he’s an incredible dad, and how he’s only human. making mistakes is gonna happen, there’s nothing you can do but keep going and try your best.

100% going all out for any sport/extracurricular they get involved in. he’s their number one fan.

probably the gentler parent. he’d try his best to be stern with them, but he just doesn’t have it in him to upset them. tears would literally break his heart, so you’d probably have to take on the more serious role.

You had two kids with Enzo, a girl and a boy. They adored their father—as they should. He was sweet and loving and hardly ever said no. But that was the problem…he hardly ever said no.

And it got the best of him today.

The kids came bursting through the door, running into the kitchen with Enzo hot on their heels. He was carrying bags from the new toy store in Diagon Alley, a distressed look on his face as your children ran up to you to show you their new toys. You gave them a tight smile, faking enthusiasm.

“Very cool! How about we help Dad take them to your rooms, yeah? You need to eat before you play with them.”

“No,” your little boy whined, trying to dig in the bags Enzo was struggling to carry. “I wanna play now!”

Enzo let out a sigh, his voice strained. “Listen to your Mother—”

“We wanna play!” Your little girl screamed, her little cheeks flushing.

She turned around to root through the bags with her brother, when one ripped and the toys clambered to the floor. They scattered, and Enzo finally reached his limit.

“That’s it!” He shouted, hoisting the bags up to set them on the countertop where they couldn’t reach. “That’s enough. You’re going to eat your dinner, and you’re never allowed to yell at your Mother again! Do you both hear me?”

Your kids stopped in their tracks, looking up at him with wide eyes. He might as well have slapped them—that was how they were looking up at him. Like he had hurt them worse than he ever had before. They were being dramatic, of course. You had scolded them far worse than that in their lives. But Enzo was never one to yell. He hardly ever raised the voice around the kids, it hurt him too much to do it. You looked up from their faces to Enzo’s.

And the look on his face was heartbreaking.

“I’m sorry,” Enzo stuttered out, unable to say anything else.

You could tell he felt terrible. His eyes were glazed over, and his hands were shaking at his side. You quickly scooped the toys off the floor, shoving them back into their bags. You bent down to speak to your children, grabbing each of their hands.

“Alright…everyone breathe. You two, I’m going to take you to your rooms. I expect you to be ready for dinner in ten minutes. And if you behave—and you apologize to your Dad and I for not listening to what we asked you to do—we’ll let you open up a few toys and play with them later. Your Dad was very nice to get you all of these things, and you both need to act like it.”

Your little ones looked up at the both of you, batting their eyes. You could feel your anger slip away as they watched you, their little cute faces scrunching up.

It wasn’t fair—they were too adorable to be mad at.

“We’re sorry, Mum,” your little girl said.

Your boy nodded. “Yeah, we’re sorry Dad. We didn’t mean to yell.”

“I know, my loves,” you smiled, squeezing their hands. “Neither did Dad. It’s alright…everyone is just a little tired. Thank you for saying you’re sorry. Keep that attitude up, and your Dad and I will be happy to play with you after dinner.”

Your children giggled and ran off to their rooms with bright smiles on their faces, like nothing had happened at all.

Your husband, however, was steel reeling. As soon as they were out of the room, you turned to him. His face was full of regret, his eyes sad. You frowned, opening your arms.

“Come here, sweet boy,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “You did so good. You’re okay.”

“I didn’t mean to yell,” he choked out into your shoulder, holding you tight.

You just shook your head, shushing him. “You had every right to. I love them to death, but they can be brats—and they know their Dad loves them too much to tell them no. You saw them, Enzo. They’ve already gotten over it. Don’t beat yourself up over this, love.”

Enzo sniffled into your shoulder. You held him tighter, gently rocking him back and forth as he leaned into you. It was quiet while you looked over his shoulder to the bags still on the counter, toys spilling out of the top of them.

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “You’re such a good Dad. They’re gonna be glued to you for weeks after they open all of those.”

“I’m sorry you had to take the lead. I should be better at this by now. I just can’t handle it when they look at me like that.”

You heard a clattering, and looked over to see your kids in the next room, politely sitting at the table. They were giggling to themselves, on their best exaggerated behavior so that they could earn back time with their toys. It was adorable, and it brought a smile to your face. You looked up to see Enzo smiling as well, despite his anxiousness.

“How do they look now?” You asked, reaching for his hand. “Because to me, it looks like they’re on their best behavior so they can play with their lovely toys that their even lovelier Dad got for them. It looks to me like they want to play with their Dad so bad, that they endured—Merlin forbid—washing their hands and setting the table just to do it.”

Enzo chuckled, squeezing your hand. “It does look like that, doesn’t it? Well, let’s not keep them waiting, darling. We have bags full of toys and two lovely children waiting for us.”

—

Mattheo Riddle:

girl dad girl dad girl dad

absolutely gonna have a meltdown raising little girls because it means he’s gotta start kicking some little shit’s ass for hurting one of his daughters. you’d seriously have to hold him back once they start showing interest in dating, because he’s not ready for them to be that grown up.

absolutely an affectionate parent. hugs and kisses before bed, he didn’t make the rules he just enforces them. he’d want his kids to feel like there was never a point in their life where they were too old for a cuddle.

deathly afraid of fucking them up. he’d rely on you in the early stages to help him along, but he’d really get the hang of it fast. later on in their lives he’d wonder what he was even so worried about.

would absolutely adore you after you give him kids. he would never whine about being stuck with diaper duty or homework because you already did so much giving him his girls. it’s only fair that he takes care of them—including you.

During Christmas break, your girls came home giggling. It took you days to get them to finally tell you what was going on, and you made them swear not to tell their Dad what happened. They had both met someone they liked over the term and had asked you to help them owl them.

“As a woman, I’m thrilled,” you explained, speaking in a hushed whisper in the kitchen. “And I want to hear all about it. But as your Mother, I’m begging you not to tell your Dad. Do you remember what First Year was like and you two came home talking about all the cute boys at school?”

Your eldest groaned in her chair, looking at her sister. “We’re silent till summer, got it?”

“Got it.”

—

You woke up the next morning to shouting coming from the kitchen. You rushed out of bed to find your two eldest sitting at the table, their heads in their hands. Mattheo was standing across from them, your youngest in his arms innocently looking up at him.

Your eldest looked up once you walked in. “Help. I’m begging you.”

“Mattheo,” you scolded, giving him a stern look. “They’re our girls—they’re smart, and they’re ready for this. You should be happy they came to one of us first.”

“But they’re my little girls,” he whined, shutting his mouth when your eldest piped in.

“We’re not little, Dad. Not anymore.”

You watched his face fall, his chest tightening. You gently took your youngest from his arms, passing her to her sisters. You motioned to the living room, nodding your head.

“Go sit down for a bit, girls. We’ll be right out, yeah?”

They nodded, filing out together. You could hear them whispering as they sat on the couch, giggling. You turned back to Mattheo, gently guiding him backwards until he fell into a seat. He looked up at you with a pout, heaving out a sigh.

You smiled down at him, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “Do you remember when we met at Hogwarts? We were so lucky that I was smart enough for the both of us. Who knows what kind of trouble we could have gotten into if I let you lead.”

“We got into enough trouble,” he murmured, his tone sour.

You rolled your eyes, reaching down to grip his hands. You leaned forward, your knees knocking with his.

“Listen to me. Our girls are smart—they’ve got their Mother’s intuition, thank Merlin for that. And one day, they’re gonna grow up. But that’s a far day from today. They’re not getting married, love. It’s just a crush. They want to send an owl.”

You squeezed his hands, nodding for him to turn his head to look out into the living room. He turned to see your girls all sitting on the couch together, the youngest in the eldest’s lap. Your older girls were making faces and sounds, trying to get the little one to laugh. She was looking up at her sisters with wide eyes and a bright smile, breathy chuckles pulled from her chest. You smiled, turning back to Mattheo.

You hooked your finger under his jaw, turning him back to face you. “They’re still your little girls, Matty…they’ll always be your little girls. But we have to help them grow into women. And they need their Dad to help them do that.”

Mattheo sighed, leaning forward to rest his forehead against your stomach. You threaded your fingers through his hair, holding him close to you.

“You’re my best girl, you know that?” He murmured into your stomach.

A warm feeling spread through your chest as you smiled. Your daughters interrupted you before you could speak, the middle one shielding hers and the youngest’s eyes.

“Ew! Stop being gross, Dad!”

Mattheo chuckled, leaning back to look up at you. He glanced over at his daughters, absentmindedly reaching for one of your hands. He interlaced your fingers together, letting out a—this time, content—sigh.

“You’re right. It is going to be a far day.”

—

Regulus Black:

i feel like regulus would be a very chill parent.

i don’t think he particularly likes children, but he would love his own. he’d adore them when they were all little and cute.

he definitely would be really good at disciplining them. he never has to raise his voice or get physical, he just gives them a look and calmly explains to them what he expects, and they’re content to listen to him. it’s so different than how he was raised, and he would promise you that he’d do better with them than his parents did with him.

he’d be really afraid of hurting them like his parents did. you’d have to assure him every time he felt like he was doing a bad job with them.

when they’re older, they’re totally momma’s boys and girls. when they’re children they couldn’t get enough of him, but as they get older they’d start leaning towards you. he wouldn’t even mind the favoritism, because you’re his favorite too, of course his kids would be smart like their dad.

You and Regulus had a little boy and a little girl together, the boy a few years older than the girl. Sometimes your little boy would play a little rough with her, not understanding that he was too big to be getting that excited with her.

You’d catch them in the yard, him chasing her around while she dawdled and squealed. You watched through the window, calling Regulus over to come watch. Regulus smiled as he came from your bedroom, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he peered out the window. But your little girl tripped after a while, and your boy was quick to tumble after her, laughing as he fell. He was still giggling when he sat back up, but she sat up with tears streaming down her face.

You quickly rushed out the back door, panic settling in your chest. “What did I tell you about playing rough with your sister? She’s too little, darling!”

You tried your best to remain calm, but you just couldn’t do it. Regulus, however, was as calm as ever. He followed you out the door, walking over to scoop up your daughter. He sat down in the grass with her, cradling her in his lap.

“What happened, sweetheart?” He asked her, gently shushing her. “You’re alright, it’s okay. Just breathe.”

While you were too busy calming yourself down, you failed to pick up on the shock on your little boy’s face. He was wide eyed, taking rapid breaths. Once your girl was calm, Regulus held his arm out for your boy.

“It’s alright. Everyone is fine. We just have to be careful, yeah? Can you remember that?”

Your boy nodded, and Regulus gave him a grateful smile, pulling him in for a hug. You watched in awe, finally pulling yourself together. You took a breath, sitting down in the grass next to your kids. Your little girl was quick to switch to your lap, wrapping her arms around your waist. You hugged her tight to you, smoothing your hand over her hair.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” you said, reaching your free hand for your boy’s. “You just scared me. I know you didn’t mean it.”

Regulus nodded, giving you a smile before grinning down at his kids. “Lots of excitement this morning, huh? Barely nine in the morning and we’ve already given your poor mum a heart attack. I vote we spend the rest of the morning inside, yeah?”

Your kids nodded, standing up and running inside like nothing had happened. Regulus stood after, offering his hands to you before pulling you up and into his chest. You pressed your cheek into him as you hugged him, letting out a breath.

“You’re a good dad.”

Regulus smiled to himself, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re a good mum, darling. The best.”

—

A/N - Hi! Hope you liked these! Thank you again for the request, I really enjoyed writing this :)

#harry potter #slytherin boys react #slytherin boys #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #regulus black x reader #regulus black #enzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire x reader

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writerpeach · 1 year

Text

Overindulgent

IVE Jang Wonyoung x m!reader

14k+ words

---

Read on AFF

Read on AO3

“Chocolate or strawberry?”

It should have been a simple question to answer.

As simple as naming a favorite color, most people would have no trouble answering without hesitation, based on preference or what one was in the mood for. Milkshakes were the perfect treat, universally loved and the best thing to have on a hot summer day, especially after a grueling two-hour, forgettable class.

But most people weren’t Jang Wonyoung. “Two flavors? That’s all?”

Around her, nothing would ever be simple. If you asked her to name two numbers, she would find some justification to add a third.

“Sorry, princess,” you said with obvious mockery in your tone. “That’s all there is. But you can add toppings.”

“If one of those toppings isn’t mint, then I don’t---ugh, fine. Strawberry.”

Wonyoung audibly sighed when she grabbed her pink milkshake, sitting down at one of the white leather booths in the farthest possible corner from everything as could be.

She looked unsatisfied even before her first sip, and lifelessly stirred the creamy concoction, hoping to somehow conjure up something more appealing. Wonyoung had very specific tastes, and didn’t particularly care for stepping out of her comfort zone.

Watching for her reaction, Wonyoung made a loud slurp through her long red straw set amidst a sea of sugar. “How is it?”

“It’s too sweet.”

Of all the possibilities in the world, nothing prepared you for that one.

“It’s a milkshake…” you said with a furrowed brow.

Yujin introduced you to this particular place. Two straws, one big chocolate milkshake, and an elated look of bliss on her face later, and she was slurping it down until nothing but air filled her straw. So it was only natural that you’d invite Wonyoung here with the same expectations. That was your first mistake.

“Well, it’s too sweet.”

Incredible.

Being seated across the booth from Wonyoung felt like you were part of a failed science experiment, because every sip taken came with a different reaction, like she expected her opinion to change. When she wiped bits of whipped cream from her glossy lips, the growing disdain on her face didn’t disappear with it.

Who knew you'd located the sole person in the entire universe who disliked milkshakes? That alone was an achievement worthy of a medal or plaque to proudly display on the fireplace for all to see.

“Here, you finish it,” Wonyoung said, verging on demand as she slid it across the table next to your half-finished chocolate shake.

“But I already have one. And this is plenty,” you replied, taking a long sip, and savoring the sugary bliss to help ease the pain of your astonishment.

“Ugh, fine. Just throw it away. I paid for them both, but I don’t even want to look at it anymore.”

“No---wait. I’ll save it for Yujin. She loves sweet things.”

“Fine. It’s a good thing I brought my car then. Wouldn’t want it to melt. I’ve seen how much she enjoys swallowing creamy thick liquids down her throat…”

Something so uncharacteristic caught you off-guard. Jang Wonyoung was many things: bossy, spoiled, infuriating more times than you could count, but lewd jokes that sprang from nowhere without so much as a smirk? Not what you expected today.

Wonyoung slid out of the booth and made for the exit. You followed behind, both milkshakes in hand, and took turns sipping from each one, enjoying the unique flavors each brought.

“I can’t believe anyone likes those things. They’re just sugar.”

“That’s why everyone likes them. But that would assume our little princess actually knew how to enjoy anything.” That remark caught you in her deadly gaze, but you didn’t hold back the smile on your face, perhaps to your detriment.

“Keep that up and you’re walking home.”

“Oh, come on, princess. We both know you enjoy my company too much. It’s not my fault you can’t take a little joke.”

“Is that so?” Wonyoung entered her black, two-door sports car and closed the door with yet another icy glare. Seconds after, you grabbed the cold metal handle and opened it, to no avail. Without success, you tried again---but the door didn’t budge an inch. Tapping on the window proved as pointless as offering Wonyoung another sip of milkshake.

“Wonyoung---“ Ignoring any attempt you made to grab her attention, she instead revved the engine in succession and avoided your gaze with every stomp on the pedal.

Surely, she wouldn’t---

“Come on, this isn’t funny. Just open the door.” The door handle might as well have been fashioned out of paper and glued on, for as useless as it now was. After trying one last time, Wonyoung cracked open the window just enough to speak.

“It’s not my fault you can’t take a little joke.” That was the last thing you heard before her tires squealed and she sped off without looking back.

…she would.

Guess you were walking off all that ice cream.

You still couldn’t believe it. Wonyoung wasn’t a stranger to your teasing, but never took it so seriously before. On the plus side, at least the ice cream shop wasn’t more than a twenty-minute walk from your place. Well, it wasn’t exactly your place, and you just had the privilege of living in a luxurious high-rise apartment that had Wonyoung and Yujin’s names on the dotted line.

Ten minutes from campus, the loft came fully furnished with an always stocked fridge, a gorgeous pool, spacious bedrooms, and one of the best views you could ask for, while also saving you from the nightmares of dorm life.

Quite contrary to your first year of college spent in a shoe-box sized room, an uncomfortable bed, and a quiet, messy roommate, always there when you needed just a minute to yourself. It taught you a valuable lesson to never underestimate the value of privacy.

Maybe a stroke of luck that at the end of that semester from hell came your first encounter with Yujin. Tucked away in a secluded corner at the library, she recognized you from class and offered to help study. One study session grew into two, which turned into three, then led into several sessions over coffee every week, until you were seeing each other virtually every day.

Over time, the two of you got closer, meeting without the pretense of studying. Then one day, the books got tossed aside, and the only thing being studied was how far Yujin could ram her tongue down your mouth.

You learned early on how difficult it was to say no to Yujin. Whether you were in the middle of the library, taking up spots on the packed couches, the always crowded student center, or right by the administration office, no place was off-limits for an impromptu make-out session. Eventually, those steamy make-out sessions migrated to Yujin’s place, where your first encounter with her younger roommate Wonyoung took place with your pants and underwear around your ankles.

You didn’t know what was more awkward, the act of being caught in the middle of Yujin blowing you on the couch, or that Wonyoung stayed for the entire show. And that was your first lesson about Wonyoung and her voyeuristic tendencies.

The two of them were the best of friends and never strayed far from one another outside of class. But Wonyoung loved to watch your sex-crazed moments with Yujin, insisting that she wouldn’t get in the way or be noticeable. Which, true or not, could never be something you grew used to---the younger of the two sitting silently inches away, lurking like a cat in the shadows when you ate her out on the kitchen counter, while Yujin rode you on the couch, or whatever other outcome that ended with the both of you covered in sweat and panting heavily.

Months later, you were moving in at their behest, which made sense when you spent most of your time there. Any offerings to pay your fair share of rent were denied, as both of your new roommates were very well off with no financial concerns. Nevertheless, your infinite methods of pleasuring Yujin more than made up for it.

So after settling in, (which took some time for you to grow accustomed to waking up surrounded by luxury), you couldn’t be more thankful, not only being freed from the burdens of rent but also from the tortures of dorm living, and the three of you grew inseparable.

Mostly. Because when Wonyoung was in a bad mood, the whole universe knew about it. Making her the butt of jokes was your way of chipping away at that stuck up attitude, but it had never backfired quite spectacularly like this.

As you neared your shared loft, a tremendous sense of relief filled your body, but did little to dissipate the anger that pumped through your veins. Overheated, sweaty, and stuck holding a milkshake that no longer met that definition, the only thing that cooled your temper (quite literally), was the frigid blasts of air-conditioning that hit you when you stepped through the front door.

“Oh, look who it is. Enjoy the sun?” asked Wonyoung when you stepped inside, lying at the end of the L-shaped gray couch. Sporting a smug smile on her face, she folded her arms, and leaned back into the cushions, completely oblivious to the daggers you stared in her direction.

“Daddy, you’re home. Where were you?” Yujin asked as she approached closer, embracing you in her arms, and planted a kiss on your cheek. “You’re all sweaty. And you’re burning up, too.”

“Maybe you should ask her.” With gritted teeth, you stared a hole into the petite woman sprawled out on the couch cushions, face buried in her phone without a single care in the world.

“Wonyoung?”

“Yes, unnie?” she asked, reluctant to look up for even a moment. Too obsessed with her phone, Wonyoung wouldn’t even notice if the house was on fire.

“Weren’t you two together? Why did you make it home first by yourself? And why does daddy look like he just ran a marathon?”

“Hold on, I almost have enough jades for another pull.”

“Jang Wonyoung! Answer me. You’ve already spent enough money on that stupid game.”

“It’s not stupid, you’re just bad at it. Don’t be jealous because I have better characters than you.”

Yujin let out a heavy sigh while a frown formed on her face, torn between scolding Wonyoung or ensuring you were alright.

Meanwhile, you hurried to the refrigerator out of fear of passing out and downed a bottle of water, but left just enough liquid to pour over your head, running your fingers through wet hair to cool yourself off more.

“Daddy, what happened? Why are you so tired?” Yujin asked, entering the kitchen as she turned her attention away from Wonyoung.

“Because this fucking brat ditched me.”

“Listen here, asshole---“ Wonyoung finally sat up from her phone, tossed it aside and clenched her fists, the swelling rage in her eyes overtaking her body.

“Hey, stop that. Both of you,” Yujin said, rapidly losing control of the situation. That sweet voice of hers could soothe an entire forest fire, but here, it held zero sway when your bickering became like two rams butting heads.

“What’s the matter, princess? Your servants haven’t arrived to cook your five star meal and clean your throne?”

“Daddy, that’s enough,” Yujin warned, trying to tug at your arm while making herself a barrier between the two of you.

“I don’t get what you’re upset about. Don’t you love the outdoors? Like when you made me walk in the woods for hours? I told you, I hate bugs.”

“What a shocker, you hate everything! Rain, milkshakes, anything that isn’t you being pampered---“

“Enough!” Yujin said as she slammed her fists on the kitchen counter, making the cabinets shake. “You’re both in university, aren’t you? Or did you suddenly enroll in preschool? Because you’re both acting like children.”

The house grew eerily silent. After getting a second bottle of water, you leaned against the refrigerator and sipped it silently as your body tensed up.

“Wonyoung, I want you to apologize,” Yujin said, lowering her voice as she tried to control the chaos.

“What?” she scoffed, sinking back into the couch as she squeezed her phone tight. “Why? I didn’t do anything.”

Yujin clenched her jaw as she took a deep breath. “Apologize. Now.”

“Of course, you always take sides with him. Just because daddy has a nice cock doesn’t mean you have to agree with everything he says.”

“This isn’t about sides. This is about resolving a situation that I wasn’t there to handle. I want both of you to apologize. You’ve both been living together far too long to have childish arguments like this.”

“Absolutely not. I won’t apologize when I haven’t done anything wrong,” Wonyoung murmured as she stormed towards her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Yujin rubbed her temple in frustration. “I can’t deal with this right now. I have class in thirty minutes and I haven’t even eaten lunch yet.”

Gathering her things up, Yujin stuffed them into her bag before slinging it over her shoulder. After giving you one last kiss on the forehead, she turned towards the door. “Sorry, daddy. I know it wasn’t your fault. She’s just like this sometimes. She’s still so young, it’s been one of her traits I thought she’d grow out of…”

“It’s fine, Yujin. I’ll let her calm down, then try to talk things out with her. I shouldn’t have pushed so many buttons.”

“Thanks, daddy. Just try not to kill each other while I’m gone, okay?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I can ask.” Yujin’s radiating smile put out any last remnants of anger you had, with the door closing a signal of her departure. Seeking refuge on the couch, you plopped down, kicked your shoes off, and relaxed into the pillows, the first chance of relaxation since your alarm went off. If it wasn’t early afternoon and you didn't have any studying to do, you would open one of the more fancy bottles of wine that was calling your name from the kitchen cabinet.

Instead, you opted for something more mundane and grabbed the remote, accepting whatever suggestion the TV app doled out, even if you settled with background noise to help relax.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Wonyoung repeated louder and shook your shoulder, waking you up from an unexpected, unplanned nap that left you in a haze, unable to even discern what hour it was.

“What?” you sleepily asked, rubbing your eyes while you returned back to consciousness. The lack of proper sleep caught up with you, and the past hour didn’t help one bit.

“Can you turn it down a little? I’m trying to study, and you’re making that difficult.”

Not even fully awake, the last thing you wanted to hear was Wonyoung’s voice, let alone more complaints. It would be effortless to indulge what she asked, but you had no intentions to do anything about the noise. It was the last thing she deserved.

“And your loud voice is making it difficult for me to sleep,” you blurted out, unable to hide your annoyance. “I didn’t know you studied. I thought you just complained and bossed people around.”

Wonyoung maintained her steely gaze, tone calm and collected, a vast difference from before. “You have a bedroom, you know. Upstairs? Ugh, I’m not here to argue. I have a test on Friday that’s twenty percent, which is bullshit. I can’t fail it.”

“Then maybe you should go back to studying,” you said, disregarding her attempts to make eye contact.

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do?” Wonyoung asked, rolling her eyes. “How am I supposed to get any studying done if you keep interrupting with your---whatever the hell this is you’re watching…”

Ignoring her was the only suitable option. You shifted your body sideways with hopes to elude her, only allowing furtive glances while focused on the screen. No matter what, you could still feel her presence looming while doing everything to avoid another heated argument.

Unable to stand still for a moment, Wonyoung interrupted the silence with a huff, a sign of surrender as she joined you on the couch and tucked her long legs underneath her. Grabbing a pillow from behind, she squeezed it, using it as stress relief when pressed against her chest. “You know, sometimes you can be a bit of an ass.”

You found it impossible not to laugh and eventually gave her the attention she didn’t deserve. “I know I didn’t just hear a spoiled little brat tell me what type of person I am.”

“I’m not always the nicest person, I’ll admit that,” Wonyoung muttered, sinking her head back into the pillows. Finally, something you could both agree on. But it still didn’t excuse her earlier actions.

“Is this your way of apologizing?“ you asked, and the way she looked at you resembled like you had just asked her to strip naked in front of you.

“You think I’m going to apologize?”

“No, because I know you’re not capable of ever admitting you were wrong.”

“That’s because I’m never wrong.” Wonyoung took a deep breath and let it out slowly to bring her composure under control. “If you thought I was going to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness, that’s not happening.”

Wonyoung might have had all the money in the world, but it couldn’t buy an apology. “But I’m sure you’re used to getting on your knees.”

Her mouth dropped open, and you almost had an immediate regret for delivering such a low blow---almost. Fueled by anger, Wonyoung flung a pillow at your head, but you dodged it with ease, laughing at what a pathetic throw it was.

“You really are an asshole sometimes.”

Who needed an apology when you could see such a pissed off look on Wonyoung’s pretty face? It was the most irate you had ever seen her, a pure ball of fury; trembling fists, clenched jaw, and a death stare that could cut through diamonds.

“Oh, did I upset the princess again?”

“Stop calling me th---you know what, you’re not worth my time,” Wonyoung breathed out, narrowing her eyes before rising to her feet.

“And that’s your problem, princess.”

“What?” she asked, taking a step forward and balled her fists as she pivoted to confront you, letting you see the rage up close on her features.

“Nobody is worth your time. You don’t care about anything or anyone but yourself, unless it benefits you some shape or fashion.”

“That’s not true, how the fuck would you know what I care about? Just because we’ve lived together for months doesn’t mean you know anything about me.”

“You’ve got a mouth on you princess. That’s not like you.”

“I said don’t call me that!”

“Or what?” Following suit, you stood up, matching her height and then some. “You’ll cry about it? Complain some more?”

Wonyoung didn’t utter a word. Her anger boiled over, and without warning, she smacked you across the face, leaving both a sting and a smile across your face.

“That’s it, princess, let it all out.” Without retaliation, you let her inch forward, backing you up until you were pressed up against the living room wall. Wonyoung was hardly a threat. Her tall, but petite figure wasn’t remotely intimidating, and the closer she got, the more anger you could see in her eyes. Your smile widened as she delivered a harsher slap to your face, but you seized her delicate wrist to prevent a third, until eventually you let go, which provoked her to strike your cheek once again.

Those slaps only had as much power as her anger, with no remorse behind them, and the only reason you didn’t stop her was the see the explosive wrath in her pretty round eyes. The option to defuse the situation existed whenever you deemed it necessary, as simple as either picking her slender body up to toss her on the couch, or escorting her back to her room, whatever made her stop acting like such a pedantic little brat.

But testing Wonyoung’s limited patience became a game to you, until it snapped like the flimsiest of threads, letting her pretend she had the upper hand. The sting on your cheek only encouraged you to toy with her, adding fuel to the fires of rage.

Her little chest heaved as she recovered from the barrage of slaps, heart beating loud enough for you to hear. “Feel better?”

“Not even close.”

“Then hit me again. Come on, princess, Yujin isn’t here to save you. Why don’t you give it your all and make them hurt?”

Upping the agitation by repeatedly pointing at your cheek, you could do this all day. Because, god she made things far too easy.

“No. Like I said, you’re not---worth---it.”

The more she repeated that, the more you doubted it. Because Wonyoung could have backed away, retreated to her bedroom, the kitchen, the pool, literally anywhere else. Yet, she kept her feet planted firmly where she was, face to face so close that you could see your own reflection in her eyes.

And while you were so near, you could map out her perfect features, from her pink glossy lips to her typically bright eyes filled with fury, and everything in between. “You know, you’re pretty when you’re angry.”

The corners of her mouth twitched. Contrary to what you expected, Wonyoung’s intense gaze softened, and her fists relaxed until her breathing began to stabilize. You knew how to strike her weakness, that a simple compliment would douse her red hot rage and stroke her ego, even if she wouldn’t admit it.

“D-don’t even start,” she said, but you could hear how flustered she became, how shaky her voice sounded. Another step and your foreheads would have touched, close enough already that you could smell the berries from her shampoo.

Wonyoung froze as a wave of emotions ran through her. You easily got lost in her lingering gaze, wondering what exactly went on behind those beautiful dark eyes. “That’s what you love, right? Being told how pretty you are?”

“Shut up. I don’t need compliments.”

Oh, but she did. Jang Wonyoung was a terrible liar and loved being showered in compliments almost as much as she loved arguing. You knew that vanity was her weak spot, and you planned to exploit that vulnerability.

“Answer me, princess. Do you like being called pretty?”

“I thought I told you to shut up, didn’t I?”

“What are you going to do if I---“

Before you could finish speaking, Wonyoung shoved you up against the wall and pressed her luscious lips against yours with surprising force. All that rage and resentment transformed into pure, unadulterated lust, which made you forget what you were even mad about in the first place.

The sweet taste of Wonyoung’s soft lips became the only thing that preoccupied your mind, alongside how your tongues danced in each other’s mouth, and how badly you wanted one thing---her.

With all rational thoughts and logic thrown out, you lifted Wonyoung’s petite frame up off the ground, snaked your arms around her tiny little waist and reclaimed control by press-ing her up against the wall. As the kiss kept going, Wonyoung tugged at your hair, trying to get any little advantage she could, but you didn’t let it distract you from exploring the soft curves of her tight body, and moved down to grab her ass, squeezing firmly as the both of you fought to deepen the kiss.

Breaking apart for air, you could see the rosy hues visible on her cheeks, those round eyes no longer filled with fury, but deep desire. And then you dove right back in for round two, lips parted once more, while hands roamed bodies and lips smacked, eager to keep her taste lingering in your mouth. When you kneaded Wonyoung’s ass harder, she moaned in your mouth, and you could feel every little touch making her tight body tremble.

She leaned forward to rest her forehead against yours, breath warm against your face. “God, you’re so annoying. I hate how good of a kisser you are.”

“And you’re such a brat.”

“But you like brats. Isn’t that right, daddy?”

“You don’t get to call me that.”

“Aw, is daddy getting mad again? Wait, where’s Yujin?” Wonyoung had been so caught up in the moment that she hadn’t even realized her closest friend and roommate hadn’t been there in hours.

“She went to class. Should probably be back soon.”

“Class? Yujin doesn’t have classes today.” Wonyoung raised her eyebrow, tilting her head in suspicion. “So that means…”

“She won’t be back for a while,” you said, putting the pieces together. Wonyoung giggled before leaning in once more to steal another kiss. You let her lead for a moment, and ran fingertips up the small of her back, tracing the hot skin while keeping her weight against the wall. Then, while those tiny gasps continued, you moved down her neck, kissing all the exposed skin you could find.

“Ah, that’s good, but---put me down.”

“Why?” Unfazed by the tone of voice, you continued to pepper her skin with kisses, motivated by the breathless moans she kept letting out.

“You really have to ask? Because I’m going to suck your dick, dummy.”

That sudden shift of mood could only make you grin from ear to ear. Clearly, Yujin must have been rubbing off on her, because something so blatant wasn’t like Wonyoung.

“You’re so demanding,” you said, taking one more chance to kiss and suck at her delicate neck. Biting lightly, that elicited another moan from her as her head fell back against the wall, long raven locks flowing down her shoulders.

“Do you want my mouth on your cock or not?”

“Did I say no, you fucking brat?” Pulling Wonyoung away from the wall, you set her back down in what wouldn’t fit any definition of gentle. Before you knew it, she dropped to her knees in front of you, and her hands began sliding up and down the legs of your pants.

Wonyoung looked nothing but eager on her knees as she bit on her bottom lip, and stared up through bright eyes that held lust, with her fluffy cheeks turning a lighter shade of pink. Before she did anything else, you tugged one strap of her dress as her eyes stayed stubbornly locked on yours. “Take this off first, princess.”

You weren’t so sure how compliant Wonyoung would be. The expectation would be not at all, but then she passed that first test, lowered each strap down her bare shoulders, and furled her dress down to her waist without breaking eye contact, which left her cute chest adorned by nothing but a candy pink bra.

In all of your time living together, you never saw that much of her creamy skin, usually covered up. That flat tummy, slender waist, and those small, perky tits only made you crave more, but you couldn’t let greed dictate your actions---at least not yet.

“Cute bra.”

“Thanks. But that’s all you get for now. Daddy.” The more Wonyoung used that word to annoy you, the more it seemed to fit, like it rolled off her tongue involuntarily and became less and less mocking with each usage.

Things moved too fast to comprehend. Moments ago, you were at each other’s throats, with your relationship being threatened. And now, Wonyoung proudly stayed on her knees, fingers playing with your zipper with a look of submission that promised something unforgettable. While she tugged your pants down, you saved time by discarding your shirt, smiling at how Wonyoung couldn’t take her eyes off your freshly exposed chest, palming your crotch while practically drooling over your body.

“You’re staring, princess.”

"Oh, I know," she replied, grazing your abdomen with her fingertips before kissing where she had been studying your torso, the softness of her lips on bare skin making your breath hitch. Her mouth left a trail of hot kisses along your stomach, and then licked a stripe up the crotch of your boxers just to make you twitch, building up more anticipation.

“You have such a nice body. I see why Yujin likes you so much.”

“Dashing good looks, charming personality, a high GPA, about two dozen other reasons…”

Wonyoung rolled her eyes and slipped her fingers into the waistband of your underwear, testing your patience, and didn’t dare let her eye contact drop. “Your dick is really hard, daddy. It looks so big, I can’t wait to see what Yujin has been keeping to herself.”

A quick tug later, and you were the first one naked in the open, standing in a heap of discarded clothes while your cock ached for attention. Wonyoung’s pretty eyes widened at the reveal of your cock, and she felt your erection spring to life the instant she grabbed it, forming a tight fist with all of her long, veiny fingers.

“Your dick feels so nice, daddy. You’re like, really hard. It’s like a fucking rock,” Wonyoung giggled when she stroked your length, running her icy hands across your swelling shaft, which instantly caused a bundle of soft moans at her touch. With her watching the spiraling pleasure in your eyes, every little stroke made you twitch between her nimble fingers, distracting you from anything else while she both pumped your shaft and gently caressed your balls.

“Fuck, you’re so huge. Look how small my hands look when I stroke your cock…” The way she said almost sounded like a whine, which given the source, wasn’t unexpected. As Wonyoung spent more time introducing herself to your cock, she planted a chaste kiss on your cockhead, earning herself another groan at your expense.

“I can’t believe you’ve both been hiding this dick from me.”

Wonyoung admired every aspect of your throbbing shaft, cupping your balls with her free hand while she kept a firm grip on whatever could fit in between her fingers. She tightened that grip and began to explore your length with her hungry tongue, mapping out your erection from base to tip just enough to get your cock wet, then took needy little licks against your swollen tip, claiming any drops that leaked from your slit.

“Such a beautiful cock. And now it’s all mine.’’ Then, without warning, Wonyoung parted her sultry, inviting lips, bringing your shaft into the warmth of her awaiting mouth and sealed them tight around your aching cock.

“Princess---“ you managed to groan out, toes curling into the rug underneath. The biggest spike of pleasure came when those glossy lips sealed around your cockhead, making your head tilt back in ecstasy as her warm, impatient mouth went to work. That lust-filled gaze kept you trapped as she sucked you off with her impossibly soft lips, slowly at first, drawing out every groan before bobbing her head faster, and focused on every reaction you made while her cheeks hollowed.

When Wonyoung felt your hips beginning to buck, she pulled you even further inside her throat, and her tongue began to playfully tease the underside of your shaft, driving you further down the edge of insanity. “Princess, my god---that feels incredible.”

“Of course it does. You’d think I’d ever be bad at something?” Wonyoung chuckled, flashing a confident smile as she painted your length with her tongue, then traced the veins of your shaft while enjoying the way you let out short gasps when she found your favorite spot. She flicked against it several times until returning you to her mouth, and you desperately tried to stop yourself from pushing into her throat---a losing battle before it started.

“You look so pretty sucking my dick, princess. That mouth feels---so---fucking---good,“ you groaned, and praise only had its benefits as Wonyoung reached for your balls once more, fondling them with the gentlest of touches and teased them with her slender fingers. Within moments, she found that sweet spot that you thought only Yujin knew about, which made every throb that much more overwhelming in its intensity.

“Your balls feel so heavy, daddy. Isn’t Yujin draining them enough?” Wonyoung asked, letting her enveloping lips slide with ease over your shaft, almost to the end of your base.

Quite the opposite, because while Wonyoung showered first thing in the morning, Yujin milked a massive load out of you, counting out every single time she edged you until you exploded in her hands. And then another one right before her first class, emptying you into her mouth while you ate her out.

“Do you really think that?”

“No, of course not,” Wonyoung said, shaking her head. “Pretty sure I could hear you moaning her name when I was in the shower. You’re cute when you beg.”

“I wasn’t beg---“ The warm mouth back on your cock shut you up when you hit the back of Wonyoung’s tightening throat for the first time, nearly toppling you over with pleasure. Your legs trembled as she worked her mouth with more fervor, keeping you buried down her throat just long enough to give you the satisfaction desired before coming up for air.

This girl knew just how to earn that praise. Her wet little tongue darted out from between her lips to swirl around the tip of your cock, flicking around in perfect circles around the delicate underside of your shaft, then combined it with tender kisses, soft licks, and hot breath to target that ultra-sensitive spot you knew she didn’t learn on her own. But fuck, it felt so good that you didn’t care how she found it. Not when Wonyoung kept you on edge and shifted her concentration to your balls that hadn’t been given nearly enough attention. She eagerly teased them with sloppy licks until she slipped them one at a time into her mouth, and kept a hand pumping your rock-hard cock, only to lick back up your length to swallow you up once more.

“Oh my god, princess. That pretty mouth does more than just complain,” you said, pushing your luck further than you had any right to, and you wouldn’t be surprised if Wonyoung left you in the middle of the living room with your pants around your ankles. Thankfully, she didn’t, and kept the train of bliss moving, determined to coat your cock with all of her spit and lip gloss.

“What do you think Yujin would say if she saw me on my knees blowing her daddy?”

“I think she’d say you should do a better job.”

“Asshole. You really want me to stop, don’t you?”

“No, but I can tell you’re not going to with how much you’re also enjoying this.” Wonyoung really couldn’t argue with that no matter how much she wanted to, and put that energy into keeping her lips down your cock, ensuring a constant, messy trail of saliva.

“I’ll enjoy it all day if it means you stay quiet.”

If that’s all it took, then she should have offered that from the very start. Because more than you liked to admit, her mouth drove you fucking crazy, like in a way you’d drop out of university and commit crimes to get a blowjob like this. Not quite like Yujin, who had a several page long resume of blowjob techniques that involved more than just her tongue and lips, but everything Wonyoung did was more than enough to keep you from thinking straight.

Your entire body jolted after every slurp and lick, and Wonyoung took advantage of how easy it was to tease you. Her magical hands explored your body, caressing your thighs, your ass, and anywhere else she could without losing her focus.

“Hmph. You really don’t think I’m as good as Yujin?”

That jealous trait of hers always liked to creep up, because Wonyoung couldn’t stand being second best at anything. You couldn’t lie to her either, because as good as she was at devouring your cock---Yujin would always be next level.

“No. Sorry, princess, but it’s not even close.”

You could see the disappointment in Wonyoung’s face, but she instead turned that discouragement into eagerness, moving her mouth down your length to swallow every last inch up. It only proved your point when she gagged after holding your cock down her throat for far longer than she was used to.

“For starters, you’re nowhere near sloppy enough.”

Wonyoung sighed through gritted teeth as she stroked you, placing wet kisses alongside your throbbing cock. “Then help me out. Make me sloppier.”

Letting out a devilish grin that plastered your face, you leaned closer and slid your hand through her raven black hair, yanking with enough force to tilt her head back, which gave easier access to that perfect mouth.

“It would be my pleasure, princess,” you said as you leisurely stroked your cock in front of Wonyoung’s angelic face, while her big doe eyes stared longingly up at you. It was enough to make you explode just by looking at those gorgeous features.

“Daddy---“ she whined as you relieved yourself by rubbing your swollen cockhead on those full red lips, using your pre-cum as a replacement lip gloss.

“Didn’t I say you don’t get to use that?”

“But daddy likes it when I call you that, don’t you? Daddy…” Always trying to get under your skin, even in a moment like this. But unexpectedly, that one word caused more damage than you thought, and Wonyoung had grown addicted to using it already, with no any pretense or hesitation.

“Want daddy to fuck my mouth. Come on, I know you wanna shove it down my throat and shut me up. I’ve been such a naughty little brat, won’t you do something about that?”

Wonyoung leaning into her brat persona was not something you predicted, but when she put it that way, what were brats if not something to be punished? It wouldn’t hurt to oblige her, given that she wouldn’t give up until she got her way regardless, but you at least needed something in return.

“I’ll make you gag on this dick, but let me see those cute tits, princess.”

An innocent smile overtook her face as she reached behind her back to comply, tugging on the clasp of her bra, heightening your expectations. “Okay, daddy.”

This iteration of Wonyoung, in this submissive and obedient state was far superior, and you’d expect her to do what you asked at this stage, devoid of any backtalk or snarky comments.

“Daddy, your cock,” Wonyoung pleaded, eyes narrowing while she gave the full reveal of her chest, letting her breasts free as you reached forward to touch them and squeezed each, flicking both pretty nipples as they hardened underneath your fingertips.

“This was what you wanted. Now give me what I want. Give me that cock, want it to fill my little mouth.“

“I didn’t hear a please. That’s what good girls use.”

“But I’m not a good girl. So give me what I want, daddy.“

Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t resist Wonyoung anymore as she licked her lips in anticipation---how could you resist a beautiful girl on her knees, begging for your cock? When her pouty lips parted, ready to take in your cock again, you wasted no time and plunged deep down her throat, easily hitting the back of it in one swift motion.

Wonyoung immediately gagged on your length, but you didn’t allow her to adjust as you repeatedly bottomed out her throat before you pulled out, watching how her lips desperately chased your cock. “Daddy, no. Don’t hold back, I can take it. Use my mouth like a toy---please."

A request you would easily oblige, but first, you used your cock to slap her pretty face numerous times before turning her mouth into a helpless vessel for your pleasure. Indulging both of your desires, you began to slam your hips into her face with a harsh grip on her head, tangling your fingers up in her pretty locks.

“That’s it, princess, keep that fucking mouth open. You wanted daddy to fuck your throat like this, right? You wanted me to make you choke on this cock?”

She nodded best as she could, and you loved hearing her gag and struggle on your shaft, especially when her eyes begged for more as you kept the weight of your cock stuffed down Wonyoung’s throat, defiling such a pretty piece of artwork, a spoiled, rotten, defiant brat.

The entire day’s worth of frustrations channeled into your hips as you carried out your merciless facefuck, with every punishing thrust leaving your cock dripping wet with Wonyoung’s slippery drool. For once, you had peace---no complaining, no more whining, just loud gags and messy slurps filling the room.

If only Yujin could see you now---(she’d probably say you weren’t being rough enough).

Wonyoung’s divine mouth felt amazing before, but nowhere like this. It was as if her mouth was made to be used, a pretty plaything for your disposal, a sloppy wet hole designed for your pleasure that struggled to breathe. Her innocent, modelesque visuals that won the genetic lottery became sullied with saliva, ruining her perfectly applied makeup, and made its way down to her expensive necklace before sliding down her enticing cleavage.

You weren’t sure how you were ever intimidated by such a tall, leggy goddess, when all it took was a little praise and an offering between your legs for her to fold like a deck of cards. Even comical, you could call it, and you couldn’t imagine how needy she would get once you had your fingers in her cunt.

“My fucking god, Wonyoung,” you growled, palming her head tight, fucking her mouth into a frenzy of gags and spit that sent you deeper into an uncontained spiral of lust. “Your bratty fucking mouth feels too good.”

With her jaw overworked and tears streaming down her pale, flushed cheeks, Wonyoung could only respond by squeezing your thighs she held onto as you pounded into her throat relentlessly. No longer did she resemble the beautiful, innocent doll she presented herself to be, but instead a beautiful drooling mess of spit trying to fight through her gag reflex that kept your cock wet and warm.

After one more strong thrust from your hips, you held her gorgeous face down at your base, ensuring not a single inch of cock wasn’t held down her struggling throat balls deep. Your fingers dug into her scalp as her cute nose pressed against your abdomen, and you watched intently how her eyes watered more and more the longer you held her there, refusing to give a single ounce of mercy.

Wonyoung let out a gag so loud with her throat consuming your cock that you almost exploded then and there, but forced yourself to hold on. As much as you wanted, you couldn’t blow a load in her mouth without at least getting a chance to see that tight, impeccable body bare naked. Despite that, you pushed her firmly into your crotch just a little longer, making her mouth fill up with spit and her eyes water even more so until you pulled away.

When you withdrew your cock away from her wet, swollen lips, Wonyoung gasped for air as thin strings of saliva kept your shaft connected to her satisfied smile, tongue flicking at your cock with a whimper.

“Don’t stop on my account. I can take much more,” she said, those tear-filled eyes looking on with determination.

“Yeah, but---I can’t.” Wonyoung let out a giggle before grabbing your cock drenched with her saliva, and jerked you off, every pump threatening to send you past release.

“Are you going to paint my face then, daddy?” she asked, tempting fate by planting several kisses on the top of your cockhead.

“Not a chance, princess. My load belongs inside your cunt.”

Needing a moment, you stepped out of the pile of clothes underneath you and helped Wonyoung rise to her feet, taking her by the wrist to guide her towards the couch. Nothing about her resembled elegance any longer---disheveled hair, ruined makeup, and a face covered in saliva was the ideal formula to put her in her place. And all it took was a cock jammed down her throat.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” Wonyoung asked, still recuperating from having her throat fucked raw. She tried to find some comfort in your eyes, but all she saw was your stern expression, leaving her to wonder whether you would make her feel even more desperate than she already did.

“That all depends on you, princess. How about you finish taking that dress off for me?”

“Yes, daddy.” Again, Wonyoung was just concerned about following instructions at this point, and tugged that expensive dress down off her hips around her ankles, kicking it away. Your eyes watched every move she made with bated breath as she laid down on the couch, and every last inch of those slender legs that went on for days stretched across the cushions, leaving one final barricade between your desires.

“Your body is fucking perfect, princess,” you said, joining her on the couch with your eyes roaming a path of creamy skin from head to toe, and you took in the beauty of her flawless physique, unsure where was most deserving of your attention.

“Thank you, daddy. Do you want these off too?” Wonyoung asked as she slipped fingers into the waistband of her skimpy panties that matched her discarded bra.

“No, princess. That’s my job.”

Only that tiny piece of fabric separated you from seeing that tight naked body in its full splendor, but you were going to take your time savoring that reveal. Such an impeccable body like Wonyoung’s deserved to be worshiped from head to toe, so no better place to start than that as you grabbed one of her pristine feet and planted a kiss at the ball of it.

Spending as much time as you could without going overboard, you massaged her soft soles, then peppered them in kisses before you moved on to kiss her perfectly pedicured toes, each one painted with a black polish that contrasted the paleness of her skin.

“You’re kissing my feet?” Wonyoung asked, almost incredulous in her tone, but showed no signs of discomfort.

“Why wouldn’t I be? They’re very pretty. Just like the rest of you.”

“I…just didn’t know that was your thing. You know, I’ve had guys pay me to do this before. You’re much better at it.”

“Every part of you is my thing. I just wanna touch and taste your entire body.”

With a flushed glow returning back to her cheeks, you continued pressing kisses all over Wonyoung’s feet, and slid your lips into her delicate arches, not missing a spot. As you slowly worked your way up, you ran your hands up her creamy legs that could be considered a work of art on their own, and gave them the proper attention they deserved, kissing in between gentle caresses until you stopped just shy of her clothed center.

Wonyoung drew in a heavy breath as your fingers grazed over her panties, and whenever you pressed into her core, you could feel hints of wetness that she couldn’t hide. The gratification she craved wouldn’t be given easily however, and you planned on making her earn it as you gave her milky thighs a series of slow, deliberate kisses, making good on your word to taste all of her until they began to part like the gates of heaven, awaiting your touch.

You dragged out every moment, every chance to heighten Wonyoung’s arousal, which gave you all the time in the world to continue worshiping her body. One lick against the prominent damp spot at the center of her panties and she melted, begging for more when you licked a second and third time, the fabric darkening with every teasing lick.

“D-daddy,” Wonyoung gasped, but you ignored her and focused on tasting more sweet arousal through those thin panties, coming up with new ways to tease her while keeping a hand firmly stroking her soft thighs,

“Quiet, princess. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“But I want you to taste me. Need your mouth on me, daddy. Don’t tease me, I hate it.”

Wonyoung bit onto her bottom lip, knowing she made a mistake by showing too much vulnerability, which meant you would prolong her pleasure even further. Still, she didn’t seem to care, even while the wetter her pretty panties became, the more inclined you were to build up that frustration more and more.

“Needy fucking brat.”

You would tease her all day if you had to.

“Shut up, just---please.” Who could have imagined that Wonyoung would ever plead this much, and all it took was teasing your fingers dangerously close to her pussy. As much as you enjoyed encouraging the needy look on her face, you much preferred to get rid of those useless panties, so after giving them a quick tug down the never-ending runaway that made up her legs, you rewarded yourself with the priceless treasure of Wonyoung’s gorgeous, wet little pussy.

Never had you seen something so beautiful, almost as much Wonyoung herself. The exposure of her clean shaven cunt transcended your expectations, well worth every second of waiting. Her thighs led a path to nirvana that your fingertips traveled up to her wet, glistening slit, daring to slip in but backing out at the last moment.

“Your pussy is so fucking pretty, princess.”

The flustered blush on her face had never looked so vivid when you traced her folds, collecting her slick on your fingertips and kept her under your control. Wonyoung still tried to chase your fingers, displaying her desperation with her hips, while her body begged for more attention.

“Daddy, please,” she murmured, but you ignored her pleas, continuing to torment, bringing her already escalated arousal levels sky high. “Need your fingers in me. Need you to touch me, need you to taste me.”

“What’s wrong, princess?” you asked in a mocking tone. “You don’t like when daddy teases you like this?”

Wonyoung shook her head furiously at your question, but all you did was stall further to create more anticipation, letting the quiet linger, which worked wonders to turn her into a mess of frustrated desire.

“Daddy. Daddy---daddy, please.” That was all you needed to finally succumb, and slid two fingers deep inside of her hot, wet depths. Wonyoung let out a loud gasp of ecstasy, digging her nails into the fabric of the couch cushions beneath her.

With just enough room for two fingers, you pumped into her enticing wet heat and wondered how you'd ever be able to fit your cock inside of her. A good problem to have.

“Daddy!” she cried out, arching her back higher than expected, and clenched around your hilted fingers.

“Look at you, princess. So fucking wet, and all it takes is a couple fingers inside your pretty cunt for you to stop being a brat?”

You weren’t putting in the full effort to stretch her out, but you could hear how wet Wonyoung was, your fingers doused in slick within seconds as you steadily pumped inside.

“Sh-shut up, I’m not that needy.”

“Oh, really? I guess I’ll stop then.” You couldn’t help but laugh when you withdrew your fingers from her wetness, hearing cries of desperation from at the loss of your fingers that you sucked clean. “Fuck, you taste good.”

“D-daddy, no---” she said, as you made a show of slurping her juices off your fingers. “Please put your fingers back inside me. It feels good. N-need more.”

“But I thought you weren’t needy?”

“Shut up, just---please, do what you were doing.”

You should have made Wonyoung beg more given she was so adept at it before you shoved your fingers back inside her warm cunt, but it was hard to waste time on that when all you wanted was that delicious taste of hers, straight from the tap.

In no time flat, you plunged back in knuckle-deep, but didn’t dare dream of adding a third, when two fingers became a struggle as is. She groaned as her slick folds swallowed you up and emitted those sweet sounds of bliss when your fingers curled after the apex of every thrust. You couldn’t wait any longer, and made your first lick up Wonyoung's wet slit while you kept two fingers buried in her, looking up every so often to see the pure ecstasy written across her face, as you inhaled her unforgettable aroma.

“Fuck, eat me, daddy, please eat my pussy. I need that tongue, just---” Wonyoung’s pleas bordered on demand at this point, yet you were happy to oblige her, and licked long stripes up and down her pussy, savoring the unforgettable sweet taste of her cunt as you cleaned up her wet folds,

Your mouth on her wet cunt acted like a pendulum that kept her back and forth between needy and domineering, whining with one series of licks, then grabbing the back of your head with the next. Either way, you didn’t really care which side she landed on, as long as you could keep the sweet, decadent taste on your lips and you didn’t let a single part of her pussy remain unexplored.

“God, you’re so fucking delicious,” you said as you grabbed hold of her thighs to draw her lithe body closer, then flicked against her clit before sealing your lips around it just long enough to build up pleasure, until you were right back where you started, making her eager hips frantically chase your tongue.

Wonyoung tasted like the most intoxicating mix of tangy sweetness you ever had, and just a single drop of her nectar was enough to bring out the ravenous animal inside you. Insatiable for more, your tongue drowned in her sweet juices, and you drank it all up while you wandered through her drenched folds, and made sure to not let a single spot go to waste.

Once more, you aimed for her swollen clit and latched your lips around it, using as much suction as your mouth would allow, with no plans on stopping until your appetite was appeased. While you devoured Wonyoung’s juicy pussy, her long fingers tugged at your hair, returning the favor from earlier, and urged your mouth to stay on her, to maintain such harsh suction that ignited more of her cute, unceasing moans.

“Fuck, you’re good at that, keep eating my pussy,” she said, with unending demand in her voice, and you welcomed the pain that came from fingers pulling at your hair, keeping you buried between her legs. Her hips began to gyrate on your face as you kept her taste lingering on your tongue, and every lick and slurp against her needy clit brought a new set of noises, while the satisfaction multiplied on her face.

Still, you couldn’t believe how good she tasted, and how cute she sounded when you ate her out. Wonyoung’s cries became louder, much sharper, but you refused to relent, suckling on her clit with such harshness that made her thighs quiver around your head as she desperately yearned for release. You swore Wonyoung might pull out strands of your hair, though you wouldn’t care when all you could hear was her ragged breathing and needy whines from her mouth as you did everything to bring her over that edge, making her squirm underneath you, hips bucking in a pattern that followed your tongue.

“D-daddy, fuck, daddy,” Wonyoung moaned out, and when you looked up with your lips secured around her clit, you could see her pant harder and harder as you tried to expedite the inevitable.

Nothing compared to how Wonyoung looked moments before climax. Your tongue swirled and flicked over the sensitive nub, then sealed around it one more time, harshly sucking on it to bring her to that sweet, sweet nirvana.

“Gonna cum, fuck, daddy, gonna cum on your face. I’m close, so close, please don’t stop, please…“

With another deep, satisfying slurp, you had Wonyoung right where you wanted, on a road to bliss, as her hips moved like she had lost all semblance of control. Her tight frame writhed in ecstasy, and you took advantage to plunge your fingers into her slick wetness once more, giving an extra dose of bliss that fanned the unquenchable flames in her core.

“I’m gonna---”

And with that, Wonyoung would get what she wanted, what she deserved, as you helped release all that built-up tension, a giant knot untangling. Her thighs squeezed your head in an almost suffocating manner, and her pretty hands yanked at bundles of hair, making sure she had never looked so unprincess-like than in that moment. You kept your lips wrapped around Wonyoung’s clit, watching her fall apart as her delectable juices spilled into your mouth, toes curling as she came hard, eyes shutting tight with your only focus giving her the best orgasm of her life.

Wonyoung rode out her high and then some, yet even when the intensity of her trembling thighs around your head died down, you had no inclination to stop, nor could you calm your insatiable need to keep your mouth on her pretty pussy for as long as you pleased.

You’d make a mental note to get the couch deep cleaned after this.

“Daddy, please, fuck---“

Making Wonyoung cum only once wouldn’t be sufficient, so you doubled down your efforts and suckled on her clit with more ferocity, putting your all into it so much that you didn’t even hear a door being opened, or the footsteps heading towards your way.

“I’m back home, oh.”

Neither of you gave the friendly figure that entered the living room a passing glance, too caught up in the moment of bliss, too involved with feasting on Wonyoung, drawing out more of that delicious nectar that already stained your lips and chin.

“Well, well, well. Looks like you two made up.” Yujin didn’t even flinch at the sight of clothes sprawled on the floor, or her two roommates naked on the couch with your tongue buried inside Wonyoung’s cunt.

“How was class?” you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm. You weren’t actually seeking an answer, annoyed at having your focus broken before you returned your attention back to overstimulating Wonyoung, thrusting your fingers inside at the same rough pace that matched your tongue.

“Class? Oh right, my class. I really learned a lot,” Yujin said, still keeping up her facade. Now wasn’t the time to question her motives, and if anything, you’d thank her later for giving you a chance to rectify things. If not for her, you wouldn’t have your face covered in Wonyoung.

“You two look busy, so I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Yujin scurried off with that puppy-like smile, nothing but a momentary distraction while you got back to work.

That blissful state didn't take long to return to when Wonyoung squirmed underneath your face, moaning incoherently as you brought her to a second devastating orgasm with ease. Like previously, when your mouth locked on her clit, her toes curled once again, and you lapped up her delicious juices as your mouth filled back up with her rich taste. You refused to stop devouring Wonyoung’s pussy, not until she rode out her second high, and only then did you give your lips a break,

instead giving your fingers a workout, a routine of unyielding pleasure that there wasn’t any escape from.

“T-too much, daddy! P-please, fuck, fuck---I'm so sensitive, I can't," Wonyoung begged you to stop, but you disregarded every word she said, concentrating solely on getting her to cum on your fingers this time.

“I don’t care. You can, cum again on my fingers and then I’ll fuck you.” A rare silence from Wonyoung that you’d savor, listening to only her whimpering moans and the sounds of her drenched cunt as you kept her filled with your fingers. Finding her sweet spot with such precision, it took only a matter of moments until she fell apart again, shuddering even more uncontrollably.

“C-cumming again, daddy, fuck!”

Looking on with pride, you brought Wonyoung to orgasm a third time, with her back arched high, head thrown back, and a different picture painted every time she came that you’d never be able to get it out of your head. You loved hearing the cries of pleasure she made as your fingers pumped into her wetness, taking advantage of all that sensitivity that made her pussy ache, unable to handle the overstimulation, but still dripped in a way that absolutely ruined the couch cushions.

“Oh god, daddy, no more. Please, no more, I c-can’t, I-I,” she whimpered with tears in her eyes, body shaking as your fingers kept pounding into her wet walls. You pulled away once you were satisfied, licking her folds clean and fluttered over her clit for one extra moment. As tempting as it would be to finger her to a fourth orgasm, it was time for your cock to get some much needed attention.

Pulling yourself up into the cushions for a more comfortable position, you didn’t even bother cleaning your slick covered fingers, admiring the breathtaking view that was her wet entrance, ready to claim your ultimate prize.

Wonyoung looked like a doll with her legs spread wide, so vulnerable and exposed as her small chest heaved while she recovered from her relentless orgasms. Her gorgeous bare pussy glistened, every bit of supple, warm flesh more than ready for your cock, and the notion of stretching her out set off every little twitch in your shaft.

When you lined up with her inviting entrance, there was a much needed moment of hesitation as you let the anticipation build much more than necessary. But when you rubbed your cockhead between her wet pussy lips, any urge to tease disappeared, heightening your arousal to unbearable levels.

“Put it inside me. Need it, want you to fuck me so bad,” Wonyoung begged once more, and you didn’t even make her wait any longer. One look into her eyes later, and you eased inside her slick pussy, letting out a guttural groan that wasn’t even recognizable. Despite all your expectations, the initial thrusts into her warm cunt squeezed your cock harder than you were prepared for, nearly making you double over.

Your hands gripped her tiny little waist, watching for every reaction while you plunged into her suffocating cunt that felt unlike anything else before. Wonyoung was a popular girl for sure, so this wouldn’t be her first time, as evidenced by how many times you heard her getting railed in her bedroom that you lost track, but god, it certainly felt like it.

After a considerable amount of thrusts inside that dripping heat that enveloped your cock, Wonyoung stayed unbearably tight. Your efforts did little to stretch her little pussy, and it seemed impossible to pull your shaft from her cunt whenever you pumped inside her clinging walls. You took it as a challenge to bottom her out, though it resulted in an almost instant failure, met with a harsh resistance gripping your cock that only added to your determination.

“Princess, I can barely fit inside you,” you said, making more lustful moans escape Wonyoung’s lips while you tried your hardest to fill her with your whole length. You had her stunning face cupped like you were holding onto some type of rare artifact one might be scared to drop, staring at those pretty eyes, and her pretty plump lips that let out a constant flurry of moans and gasps whenever you pulled out and sank back inside her incredible warmth.

“More, daddy.”

“More what, princess?”

“Want more of you. You feel so good inside me already, want more of that cock,” she said, and it put a smile on your features to turn Wonyoung into such a needy, insatiable girl, no longer capable of being coy with her words. With every dip inside her smothering heat, you could sense more desperation, how much she yearned to be stretched to the maximum and feel your entire length in her.

“Fuck me, daddy. You know I’m not a good girl, so don’t fuck me like one.”

Your hips sped up with that request, and Wonyoung adjusted to your pace as her wet, warm walls became easier and easier to fill up, further opening her up. “You really are spoiled, aren’t you? A spoiled little brat that takes this cock so well.”

“Spoiled for your cock. So just shut up and fuck me. Make me feel you in my guts.”

While you kept her sparkling eyes in line of sight, you pressed your forehead against hers, seeing the lust building that raced through her body as you pumped into her hard and fast, giving the intense gratification she craved.

“Daddy---“ she gasped out, one little word from that pretty voice held so much power, so much weight. “Deeper, daddy. Fuck me, deeper. You feel so big, stretch my tight little pussy. Need you to fill me with every inch.”

And if that wasn’t encouragement enough, Wonyoung started to wrap her absurdly long legs around your waist to draw you in deeper, clutching onto one of your biceps, and her skin felt so utterly hot against yours. “Ruin me, daddy. Come on, I can take it. Fuck the brat out of me.”

Even at her most desperate moments, she still had some dominance left in her words, but you had no qualms not to listen. Because while Wonyoung might have looked like something precious and priceless, you certainly wouldn’t treat her as such. So little by little, your hips snapped back, until you were fucking her like you should have done from the start.

Making every thrust count, you were finally able to fuck Wonyoung balls deep, and took advantage of the slickness from every orgasm as your cock slid inside her effortlessly.

“Fuck, daddy, yes!“ Wonyoung cried out, her walls trembling whenever you bottomed her out, which only added to the urges to seize complete control of her body. You dove into her neck, and could hear her breathing deepen as you tasted the hot skin found there, before tracing the outline of her jaw, which made her even more consumed by your lustful touches.

Now that you could comfortably bury your cock to the hilt inside her warmth without struggle, Wonyoung felt so utterly wet and unimaginably tight, while all that built up arousal drowning your cock really paid off, because now you were fucking her as deep as you wanted, rearranging her guts like no tomorrow.

“You’re so fucking deep, keep that up. Want you to keep fucking me like this, please---don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” Wonyoung repeated, becoming more desperate by the syllable while you continued to feast on her body, eager to lick up all that porcelain skin. You couldn’t ignore your cravings and dragged your tongue across her sensitive neck, enjoying the way she moaned when you sucked on the delicate flesh before you moved to trace her earlobe, then nibbled on it, working her more into a frenzy.

“I need to taste all of you, princess," you said as you licked down her collarbone and down to the curve of her breasts, then climbed back up, lifted her slender arms, and buried your tongue in her armpit. You savored the taste as you greedily licked her up, tracing the surface to gather up Wonyoung’s delectable sweat, only rewarded with deeper moans while your tongue went wild. The salty taste of her skin tasted even better there, and to no surprise, it only added more to her arousal as you cleaned her up throughly, licking long stripes up one of your new favorite spots of her goddess-like body to devour.

“You’re so delicious, princess. I could just taste every inch of you for hours.”

Her cheeks reddened once more, and you were careful not to miss a solitary inch. Wonyoung kept her arms stretched up over her head, distracting you from the intense wetness and tightness of her cunt while you licked and sucked away at her flawless armpit, slobbering over it without respite.

Wonyoung gave no signs of anything but enjoyment of your tongue bath, even more so when you switched sides to devour her other smooth, milky underarm, as you peppered the flesh with little ticklish kisses, then gave an equal amount of wet, hungry licks. Truly a feast on their own, you lapped up the soft skin of her pits, nuzzling your nose in them to breathe in the unforgettable aroma. Your devotion to her body only made her squirm and whimper more, which only urged you to keep feasting on her delicious armpits, swapping your attention between the two, as you wanted as many different regions of her body on your tongue as possible.

Only after you thoroughly slathered both in saliva did you have your fill, and gave both one last lick while watching the aroused reaction in her eyes.

“D-daddy,” Wonyoung murmured, shaky and subdued, like she could barely pull the word out of her throat while your hips kept her pressed into the couch.

“Yes, princess?” you asked, planting rough kisses all over the untouched side of her neck that made her blush even deeper.

“Bedroom. Take me there.”

“Which one?”

“Don’t care.”

There was only one actual option, given that your bedroom involved a set of stairs and Wonyoung’s was just down the hall, so the choice was obvious. Although you’d love to see the look on Yujin’s face when you barged into her room, wanting to use her luxurious bed to plow her roommate on. Most likely, you’d be met with encouragement rather than being told to get out, but even then, you didn’t want to take the chance of disturbing her.

So down the hallway it was, catching Wonyoung off guard as you lifted her petite figure off the couch and into your arms as your cock remained buried inside. With her legs already locked around you tightly, her arms followed, wrapping around the back of your neck as you brought her towards the bedroom. Not wasting any chance to keep her bouncing on your shaft, you squeezed that tight little ass with every step, until you made it past the open bedroom door that neither of you bothered to fully close.

When you entered Wonyoung’s spacious bedroom, you had only one thing on your mind---the tight grip her slick pussy held around your cock. Now that all concerns had been set aside, you came close to knocking a framed poster off the wall with the force generated when you pinned her against it. But outside of moaning daddy uninterrupted, she became unable to concentrate on anything else but clinging to your body as you drilled her without zero intentions of slowing down.

Being careful wasn’t an option anymore. Wonyoung had you all wrapped up, with those long limbs coiled around you like a snake, but yet she was the prey. You kept her pinned up against the bedroom wall like a museum painting, and each thrust nailed her harder, keeping her begging for more, keeping her creaming on your cock as you rammed your length into the deepest parts of her cunt in succession, showing no mercy.

“Your pussy just feels incredible, princess,” you growled, as your fingers kneaded her asscheeks between each thrust, using the wall as a partner to help pound away and put this needy little princess in her place, fucking her harder than imaginable, knowing she could take it. Her back arched higher while every stroke intensified, and she used her moans to voice the insatiable hunger you could see in her eyes while you gave it your all.

“God, your cock---makes me feel so good, stretches me so well, it’s fucking perfect,” she said, as you shoved your hard cock into her without a care. You knew Wonyoung could take it, she could take every rough thrust, and she’d complain if you did anything less.

So your battering cock continued its assault on her warm little hole, pumping inside her while being squeezed so goddamn tight it drove you absolutely crazy, all part of the plan to ruin her perfect cunt the way she begged and begged for it.

"Daddy, fuck me, fuck me!" Wonyoung begged, but did nothing to silence herself, the repeated thuds her sweaty back made against the wall surely moving its way up the entire house. Without saying another word, you had her cumming on your cock, that slick honey dripping between her legs adding more fuel to your hips as you fucked her into a second, then a third orgasm, arms tightening while she held on for dear life, legs trembling underneath your fingers. “Oh my god, daddy.”

Like a delicate flower no more, Wonyoung endured your rough treatment with pride, and embraced the way you manhandled her body. With every pump of your cock into that engulfing wet heat, her cries of satisfaction grew deafeningly loud, and she became almost delirious from bliss, unable to keep her eyes open much longer. Not a single ounce of smugness remained left on her face, just pure desire and barrels of lust that increased the harder you fucked your aggression out, letting her ride through climax after climax until the harsh clenches became borderline unbearable to handle.

And you couldn’t help but be selfish, turning Wonyoung into an absolute mess, with no genuine need to use words anymore or anything but hot, needy kisses that did all the talking necessary as you absorbed yourself in the vigorous use of her body.

After every vigorous thrust, you could feel her hot breath in your ear, along with every whiny moan and desperate plea for you to fuck her even beyond your own limits. You poured your attention into how your cock felt whenever you speared her warm little cunt, and dug fingers deeper into the creamy flesh of her ass. But that wasn’t enough, as you spread her legs wider to take every inch of your cock deeper than you thought possible, all while every little gasp, moan, and repetitive thump of her back crashing against the wall became an intricate melody in your ears.

“Princess---“ you said, your voice lowering into nothing but a growl and drew another deep moan from Wonyoung’s lips following one more strong impale, then pulled her away from the wall as you held her up in the air, fucking her relentlessly while you enjoyed the overpowering smack of flesh on flesh by pounding into her desperate cunt.

“Need to fucking cum in you soon. Gonna fill your pretty little pussy all the way up.”

Waiting for a response wasn’t something you bothered with when you approached the side of Wonyoung’s enormous canopy bed with its pulled back curtains and abundant pillows, only fucking her petite body harder on your thick cock to elicit out more cries of nonstop pleasure.

From the start, the plan was always to defile her doll-like body, and while the idea of pounding her on the carpet with a fistful of hair crossed your mind---you’d have to tear your cock away for just a moment---an impossible task.

Overindulgent was the only thing that could describe how you were fucking Wonyoung, and even more overindulgent was how much she kept creaming on your cock. But you had no trouble keeping the motions uninterrupted, nor did you have any trouble supporting her weight, remaining face to face to kiss her lips as many times as you chose to until you laid her down onto the soft mattress in a not-so-gentle manner.

“W-wait,” Wonyoung said, before words turned back into moans once more. “You can cum inside me, but not here. Don’t ruin the sheets.”

You could barely mutter out a chuckle. “You can buy more, princess.”

“But I like thes---“

You didn’t allow any further objections. Instead, with your knees locked into the mattress, you drove Wonyoung’s legs up into the air until they neared both shoulders, feet left dangling, and folded her up like a chair, eager to sink in at a completely new intense angle. “You’re gonna need a whole new bed when I’m done with you.”

Now that you achieved the deepest penetration possible, you were testing the springs of her mattress without even giving a chance for her heart to beat, bottoming Wonyoung out into new depths never felt before. All that elegance shattered, left with nothing but the obscene view of those beautiful legs spread open so fucking wide you couldn’t believe this was the same proper girl you shared a roof with for months. Restraint lost every ounce of meaning when you kept up the relentless plunges into Wonyoung’s tight, tight cunt, pounding her into the mattress hard enough to make the creaking bed frame think twice about its existence.

“Daddy!” Wonyoung cried out, loud enough to echo throughout the entire house, no longer giving a damn about the soon-to-be-ruined sheets, just like that wet hot pussy that your cock pistoned into and demanded more unearthed pleasure from.

Taking full advantage of putting Wonyoung into this new position, you made a slight adjustment, lifted yourself into a squat in order to gain more leverage, then planted both feet on her silk sheets, holding her little waist with a bruising grip while fucking her so deep you were liable to explode at any second.

“God, princess, you take daddy’s cock so well. Such a good little fuckdoll, letting me use you, letting me destroy your warm little hole like this. Gonna fill you up so much, fuck!” You couldn’t help but let out loud, guttural groans at how good Wonyoung’s dripping pussy felt, throbbing wildly at how goddamn tight she clenched around your cock that ached for release.

“You feel so good inside me, so, so good, daddy. Can’t wait for you to cum in me. It’s going to feel so good, so warm. Just pump that hot load into my wet little pussy. Give me all your cum, give it all to me. Please, daddy---I need it right fucking now.”

Your heavy balls slapped against her puckered hole as you brutally impaled her pussy, and you could feel every little tremble in her legs, every last wet squelch as you kept Wonyoung pinned to the creaking mattress, making her desperate for one more greedy orgasm even before you even achieved your first.

“Fuck, fuck, princess, your pussy is just too good. You’re gonna make me cum so hard. Need to fucking breed you, need to just fuck my thick load into your womb and you’re gonna take it all, princess.”

“Yes, daddy, please! Fuck me, use me until you cum. Need your balls drained inside me, need you to explode.”

Scrambling for anything within reach, Wonyoung frantically dug her nails into her sheets, but you just kept plowing her into the mattress for as long as your body would allow, hitting her guts every single time with surgical precision. Her slick pussy lips gripped with violent, almost painful clenches, and the lewd expression etched on her face helped the inevitable arrive faster than expected.

Only a matter of time before you filled that perfect, warm little hole you mercilessly slammed your cock into, letting out more ragged breaths by the second. You kept your weight shifted to easily balance on the balls of your feet, and just stared at the deep pools of lust in Wonyoung’s eyes while she took it all, legs spread perfectly for breeding, anticipating your load with endless amounts of lust, begging, and cries for more.

“Daddy, breed me. Breed me like you breed Yujin. Empty those balls in me, fill me up. Daddy, please---just use me to dump your cum in, wanna feel it all in my pussy, please.”

The coils of her mattress screamed for relief, and the smack of your thrusts became deafening, mirroring the cries that escaped Wonyoung's mouth. No longer did you even bother to look forward, and instead guided your focus on how your cock pulverized Wonyoung’s insides, every strong clench a shove towards the finish line that she already had a rolling start towards. Your worn out hips were on fire, but it paled in comparison to the flames in your core, only able to be doused in one matter---and Wonyoung did just that when her wrecked cunt squeezed your cock in just the right way.

You throbbed inside Wonyoung like you hadn’t been drained in a month. With your entire length buried to the hilt and your balls firmly flush against her ass, you shared that final moment of relief, spilling cum into her pussy like you never had anyone else. Thick, hot spurts overflowed her cunt, setting off violent twitches, satisfied groans, and gasps of relief from your lips when you emptied every last drop into Wonyoung.

“Daddy, it feels so good. Empty it all, daddy, empty that cum inside me. It’s so warm, so thick, I can feel it dripping out of me, don’t stop…”

The tired demands from Wonyoung’s lips had you throbbing even more as you drove your creamy load deeper inside her, thrusting with your heavy hips with whatever energy left while you rode out the best orgasm of your life.

Nothing could compare to such bliss in its sweetest, purest, rawest form. Nor could anything compare to the satisfied smile Wonyoung gave when you pulled out, and your seed spilled down her sweaty thighs, making one more final attempt to ruin her sheets.

“No, daddy,” she whispered, making exhausted gasps while you took her small face in your hands, without enough energy to do anything but stare at the blissed out look in her eyes. When you collapsed, Wonyoung pivoted her body to the side, then grabbed your cock and guided it back inside her intense heat. “Keep it in me. Isn’t this what Yujin likes?”

You twitched the moment you felt that warmth wrapped around your shaft again, but embraced her naked body, resting your head against her bare shoulder. Trying not to make any sudden movements proved difficult.

“There we go, daddy. Stay inside me, just like this.”

“Didn’t you have to study?” you asked, remembering the thread that unraveled and started all this.

“What did I say? Stay inside me.”

“Fine, but don’t move too much. It’s still sensitive.”

Without even looking, you could see the smirk on Wonyoung’s lips as she did the opposite and rolled her hips, clenching around your cock to keep you from softening.

“Wonyoung---“ you hissed, and harshly dug your fingers into her hips to keep her from moving. “Stay. Still.”

“Or what? You’ll fuck my brains out again? Pump another thick load in me?”

“You think this is going to happen more than once? Not a chance, princess. I’m only staying here to stop that bratty mouth from talking.”

“You’re a bad liar, daddy. I know you love how my pussy keeps your cock all nice and warm. You’re addicted to it already. I bet you won’t even go back to Yujin anymore.”

“I think I fucked you a little too hard. Maybe knocked a few brain cells out.”

“Don’t worry, daddy. I won’t say a word. I’ll keep it our little secret that you like my pussy better.”

“Shut---up. Next time I fuck you it’s going up your ass.”

“Is that a promise? I’ve never done that before. But your cock is so big, I don’t even think it’ll fit there…”

“Then I’ll make it fit.”

And with that, Wonyoung grabbed your arm to swing it around her waist, finally letting you enjoy the sweet sounds of silence.

At least for a little bit.

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

A/N: I dedicate my first Wonyoung fic to the great, amazing, wonderful @friskyriskywhisky . Didn't plan on taking so long to put out a new fic, nor did I plan on it being absurdly long. My longest fic to date, but I put a lot of heart into this and hopefully it shows.

During the course of these few months I've reached 12k followers which is still wild to me after all this time, so thanks to everyone who follows and reads, especially if you've been there since the beginning 💞💞

This was supposed to be out on the 31st for Wony day but I'm impatient, so enjoy this early gift. I've really enjoyed writing this version of Wonyoung and plan to do more with her.

#ive smut #wonyoung smut #ive x reader #kpop smut #reader insert #male reader #kpop fanfic

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halfmoonaria · 4 months

Text

not allowed II

pairing: sam carpenter & female reader

summary: sam faces the consequences of her own actions out of panic.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: sexual content.

"What's on your mind, Sammy?" Your soft, raspy voice spoke while your finger was tracing random lines on her bare chest, legs intertwined with hers.

'Sammy'.

That was your new nickname for her.

And Sam hated it.

She hated how it made you sound like a child, how it reminded her of how wrong it all was. She hated how hot you sounded while you said it, how you whined it out every time you were desperate for her.

It seemed like that specific question about what was on her mind came up every single time; when you were wrapped up in her sheets, next to her after hours of pleasure.

"Nothing." She answered; just like every time, smiling down at you softly, hand reaching down to cup your warm and rosy cheek.

That wasn't true. Not at all. It never was.

She had hundreds of thoughts rushing through her head, if not thousands. Which she always ended up with, every single time you guys did something.

You had her hypnotized, blinded like a starless night searching for a guiding light while stumbling through darkness; you were the light.

When you were around she couldn't help but put all her focus on you. Whether it was in the classroom or during free time, her gaze was drawn to you. Inspecting your eyes and expressions like a detective examining every detail of a crime scene for clues.

But after it was all done, after you both finished with each other. It all came crashing down on her.

It was never supposed to happen again. After the second time, Sam had promised herself not to let it happen again. She planned on how she was going to tell you that what you were doing wasn't allowed and inappropriate.

Explain to you how the whole situation would end badly, no matter how good the sex was.

Though that conversation never happened.

You made it impossible for Sam to tell you that. You looked at Sam as if she had hung the stars on the midnight sky. You touched her like a whisper brushing her skin, caressed her as if you were sculpting a marble with the gentlest of touches.

You left her notes when you had access to leave them on her desk while walking out of class. Flirty, admirable compliments that Sam's body couldn't help but getting flustered while reading.

You were irresistible.

The second time you had asked for a reward after getting the highest score on a given test in your class. Not in the form of a medal, not some silly shoutout in the classroom, you wanted Sam. You barely had to hint it for her to understand that.

She had endured a rough week at work; sleeping schedule was off the charts, alongside Tara picking petty fights and being bothersome all week. Which resulted in her allowing herself to say yes to your tries at seducing her.

You made Sam forget about all of the chaos at work, about her annoying sister. You made her forget about everything.

Eventually, that turned into some kind of obsession.

It felt like she couldn't go a whole week without you as her stress reliever.

But you were so good at it. You made everything disappear, you made Sam feel loved. Loved in a way she'd never experienced.

And she just couldn't get enough of you.

She couldn't get enough of the intensity of your gaze, the magnetic force that dragged her in and leaving her breathless with anticipation. She couldn't get enough of the softness of your lips against hers, igniting a fire with each kiss.

The way you explored her body with such reverence and passion, as if each touch was a prayer to the goddess of love. The way you ran your finger through Sam's hair afterwards, sending more shivers down her spine than when she released.

The way your scent lingered on her skin hours after you had left, it was a constant reminder of the intoxicating allure you possessed.

You didn't even seem concerned about the fact that Sam was your teacher. And she honestly couldn't tell if it made you even hotter or her more terrified; perhaps it was both.

You were alluring, and Sam found herself unable to resist.

This was the fifth time.

The fifth time Sam had been unable to stop herself.

Sam wanted to laugh at the thought. How low could your self-control possibly be? Are really that desperate to be touched by someone? Loved by someone?

It was as if she could faintly hear someone scolding and admonishing her in her subconscious.

Was it Tara? Her boss? Or even her twisted father who had managed to make it into her mind again?

She didn't know, nor could she tell. But the idea was enough for her body to fill up with nerves and apprehension.

What if Tara found out? She would hate Sam for all eternity when she had just recently gotten her trust back after leaving. What if your friends at school found out? Even though you had promised not to tell, what if you did? Would the rumors eventually spread to the principal? Her boss?

God, what if Sam's boss found out? That would certainly result in her getting fired, the news being troubled enough to end up on her professional record, which would make it difficult to secure a future employment, ever again.

Sam's heart began racing, her mind rushing to the worst scenarios ever possible.

And of course, you had to notice it. Your eyes filled with admiration was now gazing up at her with concern.

"Sam, What's wrong?" Your serious voice snapped Sam out of her bubble of catastrophic thinking. She noticed your patient gaze, the subtle furrow of your brow indicating that you had asked the question more than once.

It wasn't until then that Sam noticed your hand was resting over her chest, feeling her heartbeat shift from steady and rhythm to a rapid pace.

She looked down back at you. Hesitating before speaking up; not sure if she would regret or relish the words that would leave her mouth.

"I think you should leave."

***

Sam had panicked.

A primal surge of fear had overtaken her, driving her to act without truly thinking about anything but the worst.

Regret washed over her in waves, each one heavier than the last. The consequences of her impulsive actions loomed large, a stark reminder of the price she would pay for succumbing to her panic.

The remnants of it still lingered, a bitter taste in her mouth as she surveyed the aftermath of her impulsive decision.

She stood frozen in her bedroom, hands tangled up in her hair. Disbelief clouding her thoughts as she tried to grasp why she had done what she did, the consequences now glaring back at her with unforgiving clarity.

Sam tried to blame it on the panic. It had fogged her mind and made her unable to think before moving or talking.

It was the panic's fault, she tried. But it didn't work. Not at all.

It was her fault, she let the panic take over, and now she was being forced to face the consequences.

You had called Sam today. Asking if you could come over.

This time Sam didn't feel the tingle in her body or the need for your touch that she felt whenever you spoke. All she felt was the sensation of remorse and anguish.

Sam herself was the only one to blame for that.

She had gone to the principals office. Tattling like a foolish child.

Showing the playful flirty notes that you had sneaked onto her desk whenever you walked past. Telling how you had been trying to throw yourself on her for months, trying to seduce Sam.

Sam basically found herself lying about the whole situation, to protect herself and her job career.

She couldn't comprehend what she was saying when she was answering the questions that was asked. The small office that belonged to her boss felt suffocating, which was why nervous rambling was what all her answers consisted of.

Before Sam left, the principal had told her that she would be having a talk with you. Separately.

It would've been obvious for anyone in that situation that was going to happen. Although that hadn't crossed Sam's mind a single time.

It was uncertain when or how the conversation would happen. But Sam was dreading it.

You would tell them she was lying, how it all went down in reality, and you would get Sam fired.

Sam had ruined everything for herself, now she was forced to watch it all fall down. Onto her.

And it came faster than anticipated.

Prior to exposing the situation, she had no clue on how long the process would be. But now, when she was standing outside the principal's office waiting for her turn to walk inside. She understood that it would not be a short one.

Sam had been told that this was the meeting where she would be told how they would handle it all.

Sweaty hands and shaking legs; more nervous than she'd ever been before besides the nerves she carried while fighting Ghostface.

The door was still closed, and Sam was supposed to walk in minutes ago.

Maybe they forgot or even cancelled it all? Sam could only hope for herself.

Sam fiddled with her hands, fighting the urge to knock on the door; the nerves almost taking over.

She had never felt this nervous before, not even when going on her first date, taking her driver's license or when she returned to Woodsboro after Tara had gotten stabbed.

The door abruptly swung open, causing Sam to startle and quickly step back. The sudden movement and creaking sound disrupted her train of thoughts.

Her gaze fell to the open door, now standing further away trying to act as if she didn't know the purpose for her being there.

But the idea fell flat as she saw who walked out the door.

You.

You walked out of the door, your expression unreadable, leaving Sam's heart pounding in her chest as she watched you.

Your skin looked pale, gaze empty, legs that were usually visible due the short skirts and shorts were now covered with sweatpants that carried the school uniform logo.

Sam lifted her gaze to your face, and unfortunately for her, you were already looking at her.

But to her surprise. You didn't look resentful or outraged, in fact you barely looked mad at all.

You looked at Sam the same way you did when she was teaching in the classroom, when you were sitting in the front row.

You looked at her the same. But she couldn't reciprocate. At all.

Which only made it all worse for her.

Sam wanted to run after you. Hug you and apologize, explain to you how she had panicked and couldn't see any other exit. She knew you would understand, you understood everything. She had half a mind to just do it. To just tell you that she didn't actually want this to happen.

That was until she heard Principal Morgan clear her throat inside of the office.

You were out of sight, basically forcing Sam to walk inside; not being able to blame her focus on something else, since the hallway was fully empty.

With each step, the air grew heavier, laden with unspoken tension as Sam made her way into the room. The door creaked as she softly pushed it wider open, revealing the scene she had been dreading; a stern faced woman already seated behind her desk, her gazed fixed upon her with a mixture of concern and scrutiny.

Without a word, Sam approached the desk, her footsteps almost echoing in the quiet room. She lowered herself into the chair opposite of the woman, her movements deliberate as she settled into the uncomfortable silence that hung between them.

Taking a moment to compose herself, Sam's eyes wandered around the room, searching for some semblance of reassurance in the familiar surroundings. The walls were lined with shelves of books and academic awards, while a row of potted plants added a touch of life to the otherwise sterile environment.

Despite the intimidating atmosphere, Sam couldn't help but notice the small details that hinted at the person behind the desk; a well worn coffee mug, a stack of handwritten notes, and a framed photograph of the principal's family, smiling back at her from the corner of her desk.

Sam hadn't had time to analyze nor notice all of the stuff the last time she was there.

With a deep breath, Sam prepared herself for the conversation that laid ahead, knowing that the decisions made in the room would shape the course of her future, the rest of her life.

Wiping her sweaty hands on her jeans she watched Mrs. Morgan browse through papers at her desk.

Finally, she looked up at Sam. Taking a deep breath before speaking up, breaking the thick layer of silence.

"So, Samantha."

Sam despised being called Samantha. Especially under these circumstances, and especially by someone who was on a higher level than her, and with so much power over her.

Here it comes, Sam. You're getting fired.

Mrs Morgan's words were met by silence, Sam felt like she was going to throw up if she opened her mouth.

Although the principal didn't seem to care. She just smiled briefly at Sam and continued. "I've convened this meeting to inform you of the forthcoming developments regarding the current situation between you and our student Y/N."

Sam responded with nothing but a nod. Yearning for closure and for it all to be over so she could leave and go back to living the tragic, uneventful life she had before the tumultuous events involving you, but this time; without a job.

"Y/N has confessed to being involved with the distribution of the notes and engaging in inappropriate conduct. Therefore, we have reached the decision to proceed with exclusion from the school."

Principal Morgan's words hung in the air, casting a heavy silence over the office as Sam struggles to process her implications. This was not the outcome she had anticipated, a knot formed in her stomach as she grapples with the reality of the situation.

Exclusion? You were going to be expelled?

Why had you went along with her lies? Why didn't you tell Mrs. Morgan what actually happened?

"Is that really necessary?" Sam's voice trembled slightly as she spoke, her eyes meeting the principal's with a mixture of desperation and disbelief.

"I-I mean wouldn't it be easier if she just dropped my class or changed to Mr. Dawson's?"

Principal Morgan regarded Sam with a stern expression, her tone firm yet empathetic. "I understand your concerns, Sam. However, given the severity of the allegations and the impact on the student body, we believe exclusion is the appropriate course of action."

Sam's heart sank at the finality of the decision, her mind racing with thoughts of the repercussions that laid ahead. She had hoped for a much different outcome, a chance to salvage her reputation and move past this ordeal, but now it seemed that option had slipped through her fingers.

As the weight of the situation settled upon her shoulders, Sam felt a sense of resignation wash over her. She had brought this upon herself, and now she had ruined everything for you, and not herself, like she had thought to begin with.

Sam hadn't been fired, but you had.

#sam carpenter #melissa barrera x reader #jenna ortega x reader #mabel x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #vada cavell x reader #wednesday addams x reader #sam carpenter x reader #melissa barrera

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museanddream · 4 months

Text

Pretty Please || Laia Codina x reader

Summary: Amid the Conti Cup celebrations, you come up with an idea to wipe the smirk off Laia’s stupid pretty face.

Warnings: 🔞 | face sitting, fingering, light bondage (but the soft and silly kind), top!reader

Word count: 5k

The look on Laia’s face when you push her onto the bed is one that will be etched into your memory for a long time.

Later, if you end up regretting this, you’ll blame the champagne. The thing about Laia is that she’s just so passionate. From the moment she came onto the pitch after half time, right through extra time and the celebrations that lasted into the night, she committed wholly to it all. And maybe you’ve actually fancied her all along, or maybe it’s the bubbles poured down your throat from the open bottles that have gone straight to your head, but you don’t think you can really be blamed for seeing Laia give herself to everything so wholeheartedly and wanting to drag her away so she can give herself completely to you.

Her expression is dazed, her hands helpless at her side as you straddle her hips, like she doesn’t quite believe this is happening.

“That’s it,” you assure her. “Just lie there and look pretty for me.”

She is pretty, blown pupils in eyes that stare up at you like you’re an as yet undiscovered wonder of the world. The confidence that attracted you to her is still there, but there’s a slight hesitancy too, like she’s navigating uncharted waters.

“I don’t … I’m not…”

Her accented voice is a little husky, probably from all the singing since Arsenal lifted the trophy but you allow yourself to believe that just a little bit of it is because of you and this position you’ve put her in.

“What? You’re not used to somebody else calling the shots?” You can’t help but tease her.

Laia gives a little shrug.

“Well, no.”

You lean forwards to cover her body with yours, ghosting your lips over hers as you murmur, “If you don’t want to do this…”

Laia answers by fisting a hand into the material of your jersey and pulling you closer so that your lips have no choice but to crash against hers.

She kisses exactly the way you knew she would - with her entire body. You’re supposed to be taking control but it’s really hard to focus on that when Laia’s teeth nip at your lips, when her tongue swipes into your mouth, when her whole aura is enveloping you. Her hands quickly drop to your hips, then fall even lower until her palms are cupping your ass, her fingers squeezing roughly as she tries to pull you even closer.

“Stop it.” You break the kiss and swat at her hands until she complies and lets them fall back to her sides on the bed, then you add, “Don’t make me tie you up.”

It’s just a joke until it isn’t, Laia’s eyes darkening and her thighs clenching together beneath you. The movement is so minute that you could miss it, if Laia wasn’t the entire purpose of your existence right now.

“Oh?” Your mouth curls up into a smile at the realisation, one eyebrow arched as Laia’s cheeks flush. “You’d like that, would you?” You don’t give Laia time to answer before you’re pulling at the hem of the Arsenal shirt she still wears and telling her, “Take this off.”

You clamber off the bed and cross over to your open suitcase, cursing the fact that you’re in a random hotel in Wolverhampton and not the comfort of your own flat, where you’ve got all kinds of fun things you could use on Laia.

Rummaging around for anything that might be useful, your fingers eventually close around a clean pair of spare football socks rolled-up at the bottom of your bag and in the absence of any actual ties, you decide they’ll have to do. When you turn your attention back to the bed, Laia has taken off her shirt but still wears a sports bra and, for some inexplicable reason, the Conti Cup winner’s medal that hasn’t left her neck since she was presented it after the game earlier. She lounges back against the pillows, the smirk back on her lips. That damn kissable smirk.

“Take those off too,” you instruct her.

Laia maintains eye contact with you the entire time as she lifts the medal from around her neck and leans across to drop it on the nightstand, and yeah, you really need to put her in her place.

You crawl back onto the bed, helping her remove the bra without much care, too fuelled on a high of adrenaline, post-match pizza and champagne. The kiss you give her when the bra is gone is bruising, flattening her into the mattress as you remind her who is in charge, discarding the socks and your idea for them for a second while you focus on more important things - namely getting your hands on Laia’s tits. She gasps into your mouth as your palms brush across her nipples and you take advantage, slipping your tongue past her lips as you devour her mouth, hot and filthy.

“Fuck,” Laia exhales, as your mouth drops to her jaw, tilting her head to the side to give you better access as you descend the column of her neck and litter kisses across her clavicle.

“That’s the idea,” you murmur against hot skin as one of her hands finds the back of your head and weaves through your hair as she tries to guide you lower. You’ll allow it for now, knowing that she won’t have the use of her hands for much longer, and wrap your lips around a dusky nipple.

“Fuck,” Laia repeats, somehow more reverent than before.

“Is that the only word you know?” you ask, lifting your head to grin down at her as you replace your mouth with your hand, pinching her nipple between your thumb and forefinger.

“English is my fourth language,” Laia protests.

You can’t help but lean down and kiss the pout right off her swollen lips.

“Then let me help you,” you say between kisses. “Let me teach you two words that go really well with that one. How about ‘me’ and ‘please’?”

You watch as the cogs work in Laia’s mind. In her defence, it’s probably a lot harder to translate and put the words together while you’re playing with her tits. Still, the look of realisation on her face when she puts it all together is one that brings you a great deal of joy.

“You’re an asshole,” she mutters.

“You’ll be saying it before the end of the night,” you promise her. “Now, do you trust me?”

You let your hands still, serious for a moment as you wait for her unwavering consent.

She nods, face stoic as she answers, “Of course.”

Reaching for the socks you discarded earlier, you unwrap them from their little bundle and gesture at Laia.

“Gimme your hands.”

Laia stares back defiantly for a few seconds, the hard set of her jaw challenging you, before her face slides into the familiar confident smirk as she offers up her hands.

“Is this how you always celebrate winning trophies?” she asks.

Silently, you wrap the length of one of the socks around Laia’s wrists, binding them together with a tight knot. The material is stretchy and she could probably still break free, but it’s the thought behind it that’s what really matters. The power you hold over her as she gives herself to you and lets you render her semi-helpless beneath you.

Even with her wrists bound, she still seems too comfortable, like this is her plan all along and not yours. And you can’t have that.

You answer her with a question of your own.

“What, by putting annoying little shits like you in their place?”

Pleased with the reaction she’s drawing from you, Laia grins up at you.

“I love hearing you talk dirty like that,” she teases you in a low voice.

Satisfied with your work, you lift Laia’s bound hands above her head and respond, “I’ve still got another sock. Don’t make me gag you with it.”

Laia actually laughs, a ripple of joy that bursts from her throat and yeah she’s a bit of a dickhead, but she’s also so fucking pretty when she’s half-naked and grinning up at you.

You silence her in a different way, with your mouth, and there are no complaints now as you kiss her as deeply as before. She kisses you back just as fervently, clinging onto whatever semblance of control she thinks she can take from you, even with her hands useless above her head. She kisses as assuredly as she tackles, the raw passion that emanates from her body just as prevalent now as it was on the pitch this afternoon and if there was a medal for dedication to a cause, it would surely be hanging around Laia’s neck.

She’s still far too dressed for your liking, even with her chest bare, and you don’t even break the kiss as your hands dip down her sides and your thumbs tuck into the elastic waistband of her sweatpants.

Laia lifts her hips from the bed and you don’t need more invitation than that, finally breaking the kiss so that you can pull the rest of her clothes down her legs, tossing them over your shoulder onto the floor.

Unfazed by her own nudity, though really, with her hands already bound together, there’s very little point in being ashamed, Laia scans down your own clothed body and says, “You’re wearing too much.”

“Yeah?” Your eyes flit to Laia’s hands, still stretched above her head with the length of sock binding her wrists together. “And what are you gonna do about that?”

Laia clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, fighting off another grin as she shakes her head from side to side.

“And you call me a shit.”

Apparently, tying Laia up has done nothing to instil some obedience in her.

“Shut the fuck up,” you tell her.

“Make me shut up yourself,” Laia challenges you.

It’s not a bad idea. In fact, it’s an excellent idea.

You climb off the bed, leaving Laia still naked on top of the covers, her hands above her head. She brings them down and sits up, the expression on her face one of confusion as to why you’ve moved away.

“Wait!” she calls out. “No, I’ll be good! I promise.”

You lift your own shirt over your head, then step out of your joggers, leaving you in just your underwear. Laia has fallen silent upon realising that you’re not changing your mind, her eyes wide and mouth slightly open as she stares at all the new skin on show.

It’s not the first time she’s seen your body - you share a dressing room literally every day - but it’s the first time she’s been allowed to appreciate it. It’s almost funny how stripping out of your clothes has rendered Laia incapable of doing anything except staring at you, if not for the hunger in her eyes that sets your own body alight, turning you on beyond what you thought was possible.

You slide your underwear down your legs then return to the bed, straddling Laia once again, this time without the barrier of clothes.

“This isn’t fair,” Laia complains, eyes flitting up to the hands bound above her head.

“Why not?”

“I want to touch you.”

Laia makes no attempt to wriggle her hands loose, even though the stretchy material of the sock would make that quite easy for her. It fills you with a little bit of pride to see that she doesn’t do that, that she’s secretly happy with the position you’ve put her in and the freedom of movement that you’ve taken from her.

“I thought you wanted me to shut you up?” you remind her, shuffling your knees forward as you move further up the bed towards Laia’s head.

Laia’s eyes widen in realisation, then that confident grin returns to her face.

“Yeah, that works too.”

You stop with your knees on either side of Laia’s head, pausing for a moment to consider if you should move so that Laia can bring her hands down her body to be more comfortable. But then you catch sight of her between your legs, cheeks tinged pink and black pupils swallowing almost all the brown irises around them, and any thought of Laia’s comfort flies out of your mind. Besides, with her hands caught above her head, you can still see them as you ride her face.

The thought has your cunt pulsing in anticipation.

You get comfortable, one hand reaching out to support your weight against the headboard, then lower yourself onto Laia’s waiting mouth.

As Laia licks through you for the first time, the touch of her tongue snatches the air out of your lungs. She moves slowly, starting at your hole and swirling up to your clit before it goes back again, moving without any real purpose other than to just taste you.

After a few moments, Laia leans back to say, “You are really fucking wet.”

Her words are completely unnecessary and insolent enough for you to thread the fingers of your free hand through her hair and pull her mouth back against your cunt to shut her up properly.

Laia doesn’t seem to have any complaints about that. In fact, she doubles her efforts, humming as her tongue glides through you.

She works with more purpose now, working all kinds of indescribable magic where you’re hot and wet and aching for her. Laia’s lips wrap around your clit, suckling gently, then her tongue dips lower, swirling through your folds until she can push the pointed tip inside you.

You can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips, nor the expletive that follows.

“Fuck.”

Laia can’t talk from the position between your legs but you feel the hot puff of breath from her nose as she half-sniggers. You look down, met with a teasing glint in her eyes, and you roll your own.

“Shut up and fuck me,” you instruct her.

You take the opportunity to roll your hips, grinding your cunt against her mouth with slow movements as Laia applies herself fully to eating you out. You can’t really stay annoyed with her, not when she’s making you feel so good. It crosses your mind that maybe the assuredness, the borderline cockiness that attracted you to Laia in the first place, is justified by the skills that back it up. But then Laia’s tongue flicks over your clit again and you lose the ability to think coherently at all.

“Fuck, Laia,” you groan, leaning forwards to support your bodyweight against the headboard as you pick up speed, riding not just her mouth now, but pretty much the whole lower half of her face. “That feels so good. Gonna come real quick if you keep doing that.”

You say it as a bit of a warning but Laia doesn’t take it that way. In fact, if the way she hums against you, then doubles down against your clit is anything to go by, the idea of getting you off as fast as possible seems to be her end goal.

And yeah, as the coil in your core starts to wind up as your orgasm approaches, it’s an idea you can get behind too.

Your grip in her hair tightens, holding her in place as you ride her tongue as well as your trembling thighs will allow, then you make the mistake of looking down again, catching a glimpse of the hands still bound above her head before your entire world crumbles in earth-shattering pleasure.

Laia’s tongue is the only constant as your orgasm takes control of your body, not that you give her much choice about it as you hold her face against your cunt. You ride it out with jerky movements of your hips, savouring each hum from the girl below you as she cleans up your arousal, until you’re too sensitive and roll to the side, collapsing onto the mattress.

“That was so fucking hot,” Laia’s voice rises up beside you as you try to catch your breath.

You can hear the confident smirk in her voice, but you’re too dazed out from your recent orgasm to even begin to form the words to tell her to get lost.

“Are you gonna untie me now?” Laia asks.

You turn your head to face her and open your eyes. Her hands are still obediently held above her head, the white material around her wrists a contrast against her tanned arms, and she pouts at your pleadingly.

“Not sure you’ve earned it yet,” you counter, your voice more gravelly than it was pre-orgasm.

“If you want me to get you off again…” She emphasises this last word, as if making you come once has given her the upper hand here. “… well, I might need my hands for that.”

If Laia really wanted the use of her hands, she’d wriggle them free of their stretchy confinement herself. You take the fact that she doesn’t as further proof that she likes being at your mercy.

Feeling suddenly reinvigorated by that thought, you roll fully onto your side and prop yourself up on one elbow, using the fingers of the other hand to trace barely-there paths against the soft skin of Laia’s chest.

“I thought I told you to just lie there and look pretty for me,” you murmur in a low voice.

“Isn’t that…” Laia trails off with a gasp as your fingertips skate across a hardened nipple, her back arching off the bed for more. Her eyes close as your fingers move away, then she tries again. “Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?”

“Yeah but I also said I wanted to hear you beg for it.”

“Please,” Laia is quick to obey. “Untie me.”

She lowers her hands, offering them out to you hopefully, but you have other ideas.

“I could untie you.” Your hand wanders lower, still just barely tracing against her skin and Laia’s breath hitches in her throat as you pass across a ticklish spot near her navel. “Or I could…”

Your hand dips between her legs, pleased that your fingers immediately encounter a copious wetness.

“Yeah,” Laia says, letting her bound hands fall back against the pillow above her head. “Like that.”

“And you had the audacity to say that I was wet,” you tease her as your fingers explore, already coated in Laia’s arousal.

“I just had you coming on my face,” Laia rasps. “Of course I’m wet.”

Your fingers move languidly, with no real purpose other than to get them as wet as possible with Laia’s slick, then you drag your hand up her body and push your fingers past her lips.

“Who tastes better?” You ask, watching in awe as Laia readily accepts your fingers into her mouth, diligently cleaning them of her own arousal. “Me or you?”

Laia slides her tongue between your fingers, before releasing them with a wet pop to answer, “You.”

Your fingers are still wet, now with Laia’s saliva, and you shift to kneel between her legs as you push them back between her lips.

This time, you actually fuck her mouth with your fingers. Before, you were just letting her taste herself, letting her see how wet you managed to get her, but now it’s about control. It’s about reminding her that you’re in charge.

And Laia takes it like a champ. She maintains eye contact with you the entire time, even as you force your fingers deeper into her mouth, her dark eyes challenging you to push further. So you do, and when she’s almost gagging on your fingers, you slide your other hand between her legs and sink inside her there too.

Laia takes one finger so easily that you add another after only a few thrusts, matching the rhythm of the fingers in her mouth. The resulting moan is muffled by your digits, so after one final thrust, you withdraw them messily and put all your focus onto her cunt.

You twist your fingers deeper, the meaty part of your thumb hitting her clit, and when she moans again, the sound fills the room.

“That’s it,” you encourage her. “Let me hear you.”

Laia lets out another wrecked moan as your fingers rock into her. Your thrusts are deep and slow, more interested in the noises you can pull from her than actually getting her close to coming, and you bask in the symphony of little moans and gasps that spill past her lips.

When she starts pleading with you, it feels like you’ve gone to heaven.

“More,” Laia groans. “Add another one.”

Your thrusts become rougher, but you make no move to add the third finger that she so desperately wants.

“That’s not how you ask nicely for things you want.”

Laia responds in Catalan and though you don’t understand it, from her tone you’re pretty sure she’s swearing at you. Your response to that is to curl your fingers on the next thrust, pressing against her front wall until her cursing fades into another moan.

Laia manages to stubbornly hold out for just a few more seconds before she gives in.

“Please. Another one, please.”

Your ego swells at how easy it was to get her to obey. You enjoy very few things more than putting confident girls like Laia in their place, but you never thought that it would be this easy, that all it would take would be a pair of socks around her wrists and a couple of fingers in her cunt to fuck her into submission.

“I had no idea you were so easy, Lai. Just desperate to be fucked, aren’t you?”

Laia curses again, first in Catalan, then in English. Then she begs you again and it’s delightful.

“Please,” she whines. “More. Harder.”

You tuck a third finger alongside the first two and start to work it into her hole, the stretch more apparent now. You watch Laia’s face for any signs of discomfort, eyes briefly lingering on the bound hands that writhe above her head, but she seems to be enjoying this as much as you are. More, even.

“So desperate,” you taunt her, gradually pushing deeper with each thrust until all three of your fingers are nestled inside her. “Bet you still want more, don’t you? My fingers aren’t enough for you?”

You withdraw almost entirely, then thrust back in with much less care than before. Your purpose is clearer now - to ruin Laia. She’s already halfway there, you can tell that from the pretty flush on her cheeks, the way her thighs are tensing and flexing as she bucks her hips into your hands, the slick sounds coming from the thrust of your fingers between her legs.

You know right in this moment that you’re never going to be satisfied with having Laia just the once. That being able to coax orgasm after orgasm from her, hearing these heavenly sounds leave her pretty mouth over and over again, is going to become a need, rather than a want. She takes you so well, everything you’re giving her, like you’re supposed to fit together like this.

And you have no doubt that if you were to give her more, she’d take that just as well.

“What if I had a strap, huh?” Your eyes are fixated between her legs as you ask the question, imagining the press of silicone where your fingers enter her body. The way she’d open up and take that too, strong thighs wrapped around your hips as you filled her. “You’d take that just as well, I bet. What d’ya think, Laia? Would you beg for my cock too?”

“Please,” Laia begs you, arching her back and tilting her head to the side to expose the sharp lines of her jaw. “Feels so good inside. So fucking good.”

You piston your fingers in and out, caring less about how rough you’re being and more about the noises you’re drawing from Laia. You can hear how wet she is where your fingers move, the rustle of the rumpled hotel sheets beneath her body as she writhes, but best of all are the litany of moans and gasps that spill past her lips each time you hit that spot deep inside her with the pads of your fingers.

“Need you … my clit … please,” Laia manages to choke out between groans, and you know she’s getting close.

You indulge her, using your spare hand, the one that was in each mouth earlier, to spread her open further before seeking out the slippery little nub between her legs. The way she jerks into your touch tells you that you’ve found the right place.

“Like that?”

“Need to come. Please let me come!”

You’re torn, half-tempted to draw it out longer because she’s just that fucking pretty when she’s tied up and desperate for you, but the selfish part of you really wants to see how much prettier she can be when she’s actually coming for you.

So you angle your fingers just right, trying to find the spot that was driving her wild a few moments ago, while keeping the light pressure around her clit with your thumb as constant as possible.

“Go on then,” you hum in concession. “Seeing as you asked so nicely. Come for me, Laia. Wanna see you let go for me.”

It takes a few more rough thrusts of your fingers in her cunt, a few more precise circles of your thumb on her clit, and then Laia’s back is arching off the bed as she lets out a fractured cry of pleasure as the orgasm takes over. You can only try to guide her through it, watching in awe as she finally falls apart in front of you.

This might be your favourite part of sleeping with a woman, the moment where she gives in and just lets the pleasure take control of her body. Knowing that you’ve made it happen, simultaneously the one who shattered Laia’s entire world for a brief moment, while also being the only thing still tethering her to reality. You keep your fingers constant, revelling in the way you can feel her clenching around your digits and the fresh wetness that coats your palm, only letting up when the twitch of her hips is away from your touch, telling you that it’s too much.

Laia’s eyes are closed, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath, and you savour the little mewl of pleasure she lets out as you slowly withdraw your fingers and wipe the stickiness that coats them on your own bare thigh.

In the sudden stillness of the hotel room, despite the fact that she’s just given you everything you thought you wanted and more, the pride of being the one to make Laia come means you can’t help but tease her one more time.

“You know,” you start, as you kiss up her body, soft kisses with no purpose other than to simply appreciate Laia, “for somebody who says she’s not used to bottoming, you’re pretty fucking good at it.”

Laia opens a lazy eye, her eyelids still heavy with post-orgasmic bliss.

“I …” She starts to speak, then trails off and shakes her head, sniggering softly to herself. “Actually, I won’t even argue. If that’s how you’re going to fuck me, I’d let you do it all again.”

You crawl up her body, sitting astride her hips and reaching for her hands. She willingly brings them down and lets you loosen the sock that binds them. When her hands are freed, you kiss the newly exposed skin, brushing your lips against the pulse on the inside of her wrists.

“Uh huh?” You tease her. “I think you just like being a pillow princess.”

“La teva princesa,” Laia says, catching your jaw with one of her hands as she looks directly at you, then explains in English, “Only for you.”

Her smirk is gone, replaced by an earnest smile and warmth in her brown eyes that you feel like you could tumble into. You don’t want to tease her anymore, you just want to savour the time you get to spend with her alone, before the inevitable chaos of the football season resumes in the morning.

As you lay down and settle against her side, half on top of her, you notice a bruise blooming on the crux of Laia’s jaw that you don’t even remember giving her, one that’s going to be tricky for her to explain away on the team bus back to London tomorrow. You realise that you don’t care.

“So, is this just a one time thing or…?”

Laia’s arms wrap around you from below, fingertips tracing mindless paths across your naked back, and you feel the rumble of her low voice against your chest more than you hear it.

You lift your head slightly to look at her and she somehow seems more vulnerable now as she waits for your answer than she did a few minutes ago when she had legs spread, arms bound, begging you to make her come.

“Let’s win more trophies and maybe you’ll find out.” You roll fully on top of Laia and start kissing down her body, your destination the crux of her thighs. “Though I’m pretty sure I still haven’t properly congratulated you on winning the Nations League…”

The resulting laugh as Laia takes full advantage of the newfound freedom of her hands to thread her fingers through your hair is melodic.

“Don’t forget about the World Cup,” she teases you.

You glance up her body, her toned stomach, her perfect breasts, that damn smirk taunting you once more on her lips.

Rolling your eyes, you only have one final thing to say before you put your mouth on her cunt.

“Don’t be so damn greedy, Laia.”

#laia codina x reader #laia codina imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso smut

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