#Minor Starlet | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

usedpidemo · 5 months ago

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Getting closer (Kang Hyewon)

“All I’m saying is—” Hyewon looks away, drink in hand, taking a little sip, calm and alluring as ever, “if you only want to see me naked, then you could have just said so.”

You widely stare back, silent, indifferent—or at least pretend to be. It’s gotten you a fair amount of awards, after all. It’s not the slightest bit of convincing whatsoever.

She laughs, softly, as if this was the expected outcome. “So I’m taking that as an admission.”

Setting down the near-empty wine glass on the bathroom sink, Hyewon attempts to walk away, only to be stopped by a sudden pull. Your hand appears tightly wrapped around her dainty wrist, unwilling to let go. Your eyes aimlessly wander up and down the empty void that is her black dress. There are hardly any thoughts behind that predictably empty head of yours, only the simplest of desires.

You catch the subtlest grin forming on her saccharine lips. You fucking hate how she makes you feel. How she makes your heart race with every exchange.

Despite all the time you’ve spent together, you wish you got to know her better.

—————

The last year and a half of your career has mostly centered around one thing, or in this case, one person: Kang Hyewon. There’s also this drama starring your pairing as co-leads, and you’ve been promoting together, but your names make up more of the headlines than the very show. Your names are synonymously tied together akin to an actual couple.

Unsurprisingly, Hyewon is damn gorgeous. It’s how she’s getting the calls to begin with. Another one of those former singers turned actors looking to be taken seriously within the larger entertainment industry. Most never make it past their first project and fall back on their old careers, with some completely flaming out of the spotlight altogether. She’s an exception. A minor part here, a supporting cameo there—until she’s more than pleasant eye candy. A starlet who knows how to pick what roles would showcase her talents the most.

She’s the perfect blend of beauty goddess and hotshot young star that the internet can get behind.

So it comes as a surprise when she’s casted as second fiddle to you, the first billing—and everyone comes away talking about her more. The scene stealer.

(This plucky rival agent, investigating a case your character has been trailing for years, barely scraping by with the thinnest of clues, only for her to uncover the mystery only days after starting the investigation. The writing screams Mary Sue, but she acts convincing and vulnerable enough to escape the scathing think pieces that’s commonly associated with such characters. Not to mention: you both look damn good together on screen and during your public appearances.

It’s a team that sailed a thousand ships—both for your characters and in the real world.)

The consummate professional you are, you don’t think much of it. Your filming experience can only be described as businesslike. Except for the scenes where you’re together on screen, you’ve been separated at arms’ length, only exchanging words between takes to keep any further relationship from developing. It’s only during the press tour where you’ve finally gotten somewhat close.

Perhaps a little too close for comfort. Enough to make video compilations by overzealous fans who think you and Hyewon are really an item. The evidence is everywhere—in interviews, behind the scenes content, and on both your Instagram pages. At least, that’s what they want to believe. Everyone else brushes it off as two hot people being hot together, and not much else.

Here’s the thing: you love Hyewon—that much is true. The question now is: does she love you back?

Thankfully, your duo doesn’t get in the way of the show being lauded, despite making up a majority of its fandom. Positive reviews from both critics and viewers, especially in regards to your chemistry. The connection between you two is one in a million, something that can’t be built over years and years of working together. It also helps your performances sell the dynamic incredibly well—well enough to create those delusional shippers that form the bedrock of your partnership.

Your names were positioned to go far during awards season. Not the consensus top pick, but as dark horse contenders to steal one every now and then. And while you both won your fair share of accolades, neither of you ended up walking away with the top prize. The conversation during the final ceremony of the year consisted primarily of the media and viewers talking about how your appearances together these last few months—and how you’re a match made in heaven.

Everyone’s gonna miss this pairing—and so will you.

Now you’re back at square one. Having snuck away from the afterparty currently celebrating the dozen or so awards your show won earlier tonight, you’ve brought Hyewon back to your hotel room. Neither of you cared once you both lost your respective categories. The pundits thought you each only had the slimmest of odds to win, so why bother. Hell, you were both itching to leave as soon as the red carpet concluded.

It’s all behind you now. You’re finally free from the glitz, glamor, and chaos of these vanity ceremonies and can really focus on what really matters—the pretty girl that you most likely won’t be seeing starring tomorrow. Your careers and interests couldn’t be any further apart: your main focus is movies, while hers are dramas. Both of you remain booked and busy for the next few years with different projects, with not a single one reuniting you two for the foreseeable future.

Back to Hyewon. She’s looking down at her wrist, tightly held by your hand. She allows it. You can feel her pulse. You sense that your hearts are racing in unison, tense and anxious.

“Are you gonna do something?” she questions, daring you to pull the trigger. She knows something you don’t—or maybe you do. You’re blinded by fear to realize it. “The night is fleeting. If not now, then when?”

Her words ring through your head.

If not now, then when?

The same five words, ordered in the exact same way—etched in tiny letters on her skin.

You still remember everything—frame by frame, down to the last details. On screen, it’s implied. In your mind, it canonically happened. She took her shirt off, exposing herself and the scars of battle, and you were gonna go there. In your characters’ supposed words, ‘Clean’’ in your own unique way.

It was ultimately never shot. Bare minimum of fanservice and completely unnecessary, the director said.

The tattoo sticks out, not only because of how it's deeply embedded on her otherwise pristine, lithe figure, but also because it represents the last 18 months of your career.

During this period, there are a lot of things that you’ve regret—and will regret. The fact you’ve kept contact with her during filming at a minimum, keeping your interactions strictly between takes and creating a negative air around you in her eyes. The fact it took you so long to exchange numbers, only getting it done during the press tour. The fact that you never return her messages when she constantly reaches out to you, whether through text or on your Instagram. The fact you haven’t thanked her enough times during your acceptance speeches, even when you mention her name in almost every other sentence. If there’s anything you want to admit, it’s that Hyewon is everything.

Most importantly, the fact that you fucking love her, to the point where you’d yearn moments when you’re not beside her—and you still lack the will to confess to her. Even right now. When she’s right at your fingertips.

Perhaps she knows this. The signs were there all along. How she often posts your red carpet photos together and tags you in them. How she also mentions you as much during her acceptance speeches and credits you as a reason for her improvements in acting, even referencing specific advice you’ve given her. The biggest hint, however, are the dresses she’s been wearing to these galas, most evident being tonight. Simple all black, tailor made for her frame, showing off her assets for flaunting to the cameras.

Earlier, she led you to an empty part of the theater to say something in private. “I wore this just for you,” she said—and from that point, you had to get her alone, whatever it takes.

Really, Hyewon has no intention to leave tonight. She’s just waiting for those magic words. There’s no other logical reason for her to be here, other than for you.

She might as well be holding up a huge signpost with all her requests written in capital letters.

“If you’re not gonna do anything,” she says, tone casual, slipping one strap of her dress down her shoulder, the one half of the fabric dropping a fair amount. “Then I might as well do it myself. I was hoping you’d take this off me—”

“Stop.”

You grab her other hand, close to touching the other strap, the dress more than ready to fall down. She raises her eyebrows in amusement. Afterward, she puts the seized hand down, convincing you to release the grip.

Another win for Hyewon. You’ve lost count as to how many times she’s been messing with you throughout awards season. Probably in the hundreds. Thousands if you count the interviews and little jabs during her speeches. Every mention of your name is an immediate sign of trouble. You can sense she’s enjoying every single moment, relishing the remaining time you have left. Meanwhile, it’s clear on your face that you’re stressed.

But for what?

“If it hasn’t gotten through your thick skull, then I have no choice but to explain it.” Hyewon climbs atop the bathroom sink, strong enough to lift herself off the ground. She pours the glass with new wine; it’s not meant for you. Her attitude flips instantaneously like a switch, composed and readying herself as if it were another photoshoot.

Taking a sip of the drink, she pours the rest all over her dress. It serves no purpose anymore. it’s undeniable that she knows what she’s doing. That elegant yet cocky smile is permanently seared into your brain. Someone this haughty shouldn’t be this beautiful and seductive. “You can stand there and waste the night away, or you can do something about it. All up to you.”

You can only sigh. Whether out of wistfulness or annoyance is up for interpretation. You can add taking her back to your hotel room and taking this role in your ever growing list of regrets. When it’s all said and done, it’ll definitely be as long as the career documentary they’ll make about you in 50 years.

What more do you have to lose?

This will all be behind you soon enough.

You finally stop giving her the cold shoulder. “God, I really wish you weren’t such a tease,” you remark, pulling on the dress strap she previously slid down. “Because otherwise, it would have been so much easier.”

Hyewon seems to have taken your words seriously, because she suddenly kisses you—as in, relentlessly smothers you. Her arms wrap around your neck, slowly pulling you close into an embrace. She smells of alcohol and perfume. An unusual concoction that you can drown yourself in.

“Only if you say the magic word,” she says, gently laughing between kisses. The lower half of your face is full of pale lipstick marks. It was foolish to think she had turned a new leaf, knowing how intentional Hyewon can be with everything.

You’ve really got no other choice.

“I love you,” you confess, but in the smallest audible voice imaginable—hiding that reluctance behind your tone.

Hyewon pulls herself back, smiling toothily at you, borderline snorting. Her expressions convey the idea that you told her a joke, which it may as well be.

“That’s it? Doesn’t sound like someone who loves me,” she remarks, tone evidently disparaging.

“Fuck me.” The groan comes out instinctively, as if this wasn’t your first time getting burned like this. Your head is raised to the ceiling, asking the gods for an out.

“That’s my line,” she spouts, her response almost as instantaneous. Wit comes naturally to Hyewon. The countless viewers and interviewers who’ve laughed can speak on her behalf.

“You’re gonna turn everything I say into a joke, are you?” you ask, knowing you’ve willingly fallen for the easiest bait in the entire world.

“You’re gonna turn everything I say into a joke, are you?” she repeats, mockingly imitating your voice, much to your utter chagrin. This isn’t part of some romcom or a sketch. This is real. Everything comes back around to Hyewon. She laughs—basks in your suffering.

It’s the kind of trait that would leave you second guessing whether you really love her or not. As it turns out, the public loves celebrities with a playful sense of humor. Not even you are innocent—you’ve been caught red-handed on camera a few times. Hyewon doesn’t need to reaffirm herself.

But she would love to hear it straight from the source.

“Say it. Say it.” Hyewon is urging you—demanding you—as if it were a matter of life or death. Her hands are everywhere, gripping you by the cheek and the throat like her prized possessions, threatening to choke the life out of you.

Truthfully, this was coming the moment she stepped through those doors for the first table read. Hyewon’s gravity is inescapable.

“Love you—Hyem, please—”

Struggling to push back against her hold, you can tell that she’s taking pleasure in every moment she has you like this: wrapped around her finger, so whipped over her that it’s alarming. There’s little use in trying to be coy or subtle. If she wanted you to go down to the afterparty in nothing but your boxers, you’d fold in a heartbeat. She’s the kind of girl you’d happily end up in a scandal with, someone you’d throw your career away in exchange for one timeless night, against the advice of everyone who knows better.

She knows this too. Look at the coy grin spreading on her face. A smile perfect for the front cover of any magazine or commercial. It’s the perfect facade for the attitude hiding beneath.

“I love you Hyem,” you repeat, showing a bit more desperation and sincerity this time. You’re breathing against her neck, the idea of pressing your lips against her skin a dire need. It’s unfortunate you can’t make it look like an accident—as is the idea of your bodies sinking down on the bathroom countertop. “For the longest time, I wanted you, but—”

Only now do you come to the simplest realization: there are no accidents.

Normally, you should feel some shame for being this oblivious. How a girl like Hyewon is giving out all these hints, to the point where she might as well be spreading her legs wide and pointing down at her cunt with a colorful sign. Hell, a thigh is peeking through her dress, pressing on your leg right now. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about working with other actors, it’s that chemistry comes naturally—it can’t be taught.

And your bodies are doing exactly that. The friction between you can’t be any more tense.

“Then show me.” She sighs against your ear, pulling on the topmost button of your suit, pushing down the matching coat. Her leg extends around your limb, goading you to pull away, even though leaving the pretty sight right in front of you is the last thing on your mind.

You can only breathe. Slow. Hesitant. There's not a lot of hours left, and you’re wasting more by taking your sweet time—resting your gaze on her pale shoulder, admiring all the little details. In essence, you’re doing the complete opposite of what Hyewon wants. She’s showing a little frustration, proving how much better of an actress she is than you. Imagine being in her shoes, beckoning to someone astronomically unaware for months. So much energy and effort could have been saved if she chose to leave you out to dry. If you weren’t so preoccupied with thoughts of her, the many ways this little scene can go, you’d be wondering why she’s this persistent.

Maybe you’re just as important of a character in her story too, or you’re both stubborn in your own ways. Perhaps both.

None of that is your concern right now. You’re cupping Hyewon’s face, kissing her, nibbling down on her creamy skin, reaching up to her lips by the way of her neck, pulling on the strap of her dress little by little. In response, she’s whispering sweet nothings into your ear, removing your dress shirt one button at a time. It feels like you’re going through the motions, acting under the words of an intimacy coordinator and a director. Slowly but surely, it’s all coming together, until—

“Stop.”

You pull back, noticing your shirt is nearly undone as you look past her and at the mirror. Both dress straps are halfway down her arms, the fabric a mess, waiting to be swept away.

You raise an eyebrow, puzzled. “What’s up?”

Hyewon tilts her head at an angle, unsatisfied. She’s staring at you intently, taking a moment to analyze you like you’re a problem to solve—which you are—before coming to a rather alarming conclusion. “You don’t seem like you want me that bad.”

The remark doesn’t register in your brain. “What do you mean—”

She yanks you forward for a deep kiss, cutting you off. Reciprocating her passion comes naturally—and so does everything else. The movement of your hands, taking lease of her back, tearing through the fabric of her dress, coming back to her cheeks, until you stop feeling cloth and register more flesh. Feeling her skin becomes your new addiction, something you can’t get enough of.

Watching her other movies—for research purposes—you knew she was well endowed, even when they were not on full display. Some of her previous gala dresses truly put a spotlight on her cleavage. Part of you thought it was editing trickery, a perfectly taken photo at the right time, or a bra doing the heavy lifting. All three even. But holding them now, with nothing in between, you simply couldn’t believe how well they’ve been hidden from you.

Her tits fold, go flush, and her nipples stiffen at your touch. They feel so right—as if they were handmade for you.

“God, Hyem—” you breathe out, savoring the sensation of her mounds in your clasp, unwilling to let go. Her taut nipples jerk with every run of your palms. If only you could rest your head between them, but your current position won’t allow you.

“They feel so good right?” Hyewon moans in response, shedding your unbuttoned shirt off your body and tossing it to the floor, taking lease of your muscles and back. Her dress bunches up around her waist, practically collapsing when she decides to get up from the sink. Although an expected outcome, you’re both surprised that you’ve managed to get each other’s clothes off.

And you’re only getting started.

Pushing you away, Hyewon meets you at your level. Gravity does the rest. She stands before you in nothing but heels. What a mental image to remember her after tonight. She leaves you frozen and trembling, jaw agape, your eyes in a daze, unable to find a place to settle your fleeting gaze on—until she rests her hands around your shoulders. You’re caught up in your own disbelief to meet her lovely gaze and that rather sweet smile, quite the difference from her bare state.

She lifts up a leg, pushing herself onto you for another passionate kiss. Taking advantage, her legs eventually wrap around your waist, bearing all her weight on your grasp. Despite her surprise attack, she’s feathery enough to carry around. It certainly helps that she’s not the heaviest girl you’ve lifted before; you have some experience—mostly unpleasant and usually backbreaking. Still, you’ll treat her like some delicate object that crumbles at the slightest touch. Something—or someone—you can’t ruin, or else you’d be ruined too.

You both end up in the living room, deeply engrossed in a fiery passion that’s too hot for cameras. Lifting her high, your lips find their way to her chest, pressing them in the place where they rightfully belong. Hyewon is stubborn, pushing your head further up to meet your lips in a direct, frantic kiss. Back and forth, you take turns between her tits and her lips, unintentionally slamming her against a wall, eliciting a few yelps out of her.

It doesn’t bother you both in the slightest. You hold her there, kissing down her abdomen and ribs, coming to the tiny inked part of her figure. The same tattoo that’s been ingrained in your head since you first saw them.

You mutter the very words against her skin.

“If not now, then when.”

They’ve never been so relevant till right now. You softly kiss the ink, silently thanking her for saving you from a lifetime’s worth of regret.

Hyewon winces, throws her head back, moans up to the ceiling. Her nails brush through your hair, then claw at your nape as you remain fixated on her tattooed rib. She deserves to be adored and worshiped.

“Look at me babe,” she murmurs, gently tilting you up, faint at your touch. Against your desires, you follow. “Put me down. You know why I’m here.”

You oblige without a second thought—and you’re both on a level playing field again.

Still, you can’t help but kiss her right after. She reciprocates the favor. You’re a perfect match. Even as you’re making out, you’re thinking of ways to get messy and get the jump on her while she’s preoccupied.

It ends up being your biggest mistake.

Both of you wrestle for control over the other, a scuffle that ends up knocking down a few appliances and tableware. The sound of glass shattering rips through the hotel room floor louder than your collective moans ever will. For someone with a lithe figure, Hyewon proves to be much stronger than you were led to believe. It shows when you try to push her onto another table; you both end up crashing to the floor seconds later.

From there, it’s whoever is the first to get up, and you knew it was all over from there.

Hyewon leads you into the sole bedroom, shoving you onto the mattress. Unrelenting, she slams onto you right after, pinning you down with her bare hands. Surprising her with your own strength, you reach for her raven locks through her ironclad grip of your wrists. Your lips continue to crash like waves against rocks, neither of you willing to back down. There’s a clear disparity between you: she wants you more.

To further prove her point, she presses her palms down on your chest, sitting over you upright, straddled on your lap. She’s never looked better.

Making quick work of your trousers, your cock is freed from its confines, only to be immediately caught up in Hyewon’s hand. Her grip spreads through your groin, turning breathing into an absolute nightmare. The one fear that’s been haunting your mind these last few months, finally realized.

And it’s staring you down with an innocent yet wicked smile.

“You have no idea how long I wanted this,” she remarks, her sultry voice sending shivers down your spine. Arching down, she presses her tongue forward on your throbbing tip. Combined with the pressure she’s building with her hand, holes puncture through your lungs. And right on command, you’re leaking. She’s lapping your cock in circles, slow and agonizing, taking every little drop of precum seeping. You can only tremble beneath her, utterly defenseless. “Remembering when I was tapping your foot with my heel earlier tonight?”

She leaves you in such a dizzying spiral that you can’t even look directly at her, let alone formulate a reply. Meanwhile, her eyes remain fixed on you, doe-eyed with innocence, yet her actions are cruel. Breathing proves to be a struggle, let alone returning with a response. “What about it?”

“I wanted you to follow me to the bathroom. And I wanted you to fuck me in there.”

Honest to God, that was not the first thought on your mind. If anything, the presence of many proved to be the ideal shield in keeping yourself away from Hyewon. Losing best actor was the greatest blessing in disguise, as it meant you didn’t have to look straight into her magnetic eyes during your theoretical speech and make an embarrassment of yourself in front of hundreds in attendance, and millions watching on television.

Now that you’re in bed with no way to escape, you can only accept your fate.

“I’m not the best at reading the room,” you comment, sheepishly shaking your head.

“Not surprising, honestly,” she says, rewarding your candor with a kiss—on your tip. Then another. More heartwarming than arousing, if anything. “Anyone ever told you that you’re kind of a dork?”

“Not the first time I’ve heard it from a girl,” you say, in an attempt to show some wit, only to be met with a stiff grip on your cock. “Ah—fuck—”

A bit more force and Hyewon could break you in half with her mere hand alone. She’s cold, calculating, and cruel. Her expression seems apathetic, yet deep down, you can tell she’s having so much fun toying and teasing you, stealing what little semblance of willpower you have. And to think she’s this demure, sometimes funny celebrity with a certain image that’s universally admired by many.

Behind that gaze, she’s thinking of more ways to further ruin you.

“I don’t think a dork like you has been with other girls,” she remarks, leaning forward to tease a kiss, only to leave you dry. “But looking at this cock—”

She stops to admire your shaft once more. Ultimately, she can’t help herself. She has to give your tip another ceremonious flick with her parched tongue in appreciation. Two, actually. If she doesn’t stop, you’ll soon be deep in her throat, and you know she’s not letting you go. Thankfully, she finally regains sight of what she wants in the first place.

Lifting herself ever so slightly, Hyewon takes a deep breath—then slowly melts into you.

It’s a car crash you can’t look away from. It’s inevitable, but you’re completely powerless to stop her. You can only groan in agony as your bodies intertwine, creating a union that only she can break. Inch by inch, you helplessly watch as Hyewon slowly takes you into her suffocating heat. The sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before: vicious, intense, and painful.

It doesn’t help that she’s taking her sweet time, keeping you on edge for what may as well be an eternity, bracing for the certain explosion she’s going to leave in her wake.

“Oh—fuck—it’s so perfect,” Hyewon throws her head back, her jaw dropping slow, every word delivered in a near-inaudible sigh. Eventually, she buries herself in you deep to the hilt—and she keens. “That—that’s it—that’s the fucking spot—”

Your hands cling to her waist, your maw similarly agape, breathing tensely as the pleasure slowly courses through your muscles. “God—you’re fucking tight—”

She hums in return, satisfied by your response, before losing herself in the sensation of your cock impaling her—and she begins to move.

As you fight the urge to cum right then and there, Hyewon slowly lifts herself off your lap, your cock reappearing with a fresh coat of her drenched pussy, before sinking back down. She rips the breath right from your lungs, while you’re forced to shut your eyes. Anything to keep your brain firing as the pleasure rushing throughout your body sends you into overdrive.

You’re an outlet of ecstasy, a conduit for her to loosen all her pent-up frustration and lust. Her palms grip to your thighs, keeping you in place—as if you’re in any condition to move anywhere except for her whim. She’s crashing into you at a punishing pace as a result of keeping yourself away for so long. And she’s being open about it too: “Why did it take us so long—ugh—”

You can only moan back. Truthfully, you’re wondering the same thing too.

As your eyes alternate between wide open and completely shut, you catch glimpses of Hyewon using every inch of you to fill her wanton pussy with cock. When she’s not cursing or screaming your name, her moans fill your ears with sweet, sultry music. It’s a sound not of her high class image. She’s riding you like it’s life or death, like her heart will stop beating if her cunt isn’t being stretched out.

With every bounce, so do her breasts. Up and down, settling into a rhythm, forming a hypnotic motion that your eyes get lost in. Your obsession reaches a point to where the movement of her tits stirs you on, reigniting your tired muscles. You can’t lie there and be a helpless viewer any longer.

And so, you meet Hyewon halfway, matching the grind of her hips with your thrust at the apex, setting her alight. This particular stroke. The hot sensation. It utterly shatters her. Her voice cracks. She trembles violently, giving you breathing room to sit upward and lean close to her chest.

So while she staggers back, overwhelmed by your cock spearing her cunt, you go down on her succulent breasts, squishing your face between them. Despite having Hyewon’s body all to yourself, the friction between your bodies creates this wracking storm that drives you insane. It isn’t enough that you’re feasting on her tits, that her boobs are bouncing so hard it’s downright pornographic, and that she’s screaming her heart out in response to each stroke. This will be headline news tomorrow. Yet, none of that is your concern. You have to pour everything into her. It’s now or never.

“Fuck yes—oh fuck—fucking take me—fuck—” Hyewon’s riding your cock, forcing all the air out your lungs, rendering you speechless. Doesn’t matter, you’re drowning in her slick and her tits, pounding away with twice the effort. She’s swearing through her tongue like she’s a cop in a crime picture, biting down on her lip in a flimsy attempt to restrain herself, but anyone with a good ear nearby could have easily identified her voice through the four walls of this hotel room. Knowing her, it’s intentional. She’s determined to put you through a world of trouble, leaving you with no other choice but to shut her up.

And you’re going to do just that.

You end up yanking her by the waist as your bodies repeatedly collide with each other. Each impact the equivalent of a cosmic explosion, the aftermath echoing through the room. The sound of skin slapping skin fills your ears louder than what it seems in the movies. Sex with Hyewon is much, much better than in your fantasies. Here’s another thing that can’t be found on camera: her soft pleas begging you to keep going, interlaced between harsh whines and airy moans that can’t be faked.

“God, I’m gonna fucking cum, Hyewon.” There you go, your silly side showing at such a serious moment. Everyone knows you don’t proclaim your impending climax. Rookie mistake. You’re not shooting a porno, but you might as well be with how hard you’re fucking her. She can’t help but cackle even as you relentlessly pound into her cunt. What should be a moment of weakness immediately gets brushed aside as you hold her when she slams down, and you finally fall apart.

Impaling your cock hilt deep inside Hyewon, you’re digging your palms deep into her soft flesh, unwilling to let go. She rests her head beside yours as you blast her with thick, warm cum. Her prolonged, saccharine-sounding moan is nothing compared to the loaded groan that ripples through the room. The supplication she makes, demanding you to fill her with every little drop goes through deaf ears. Your dick seems to have heard it loud and clear, though. The amount you’re filling her is enough to rip through her body violently too. She follows with her own peak afterwards, hitting a previously unheard octave higher, your bodies finally melting into one.

Just like that, she’s clinging to you like you’re her personal life support, completely drained of all her strength.

The ecstasy lasts for a brief moment. The fall off happens too soon for your liking. Like her, you’re sapped of energy and you fall down to earth with Hyewon in your arms. The end comes—not with grandiose drama or spectacle, but by a calm, uneventful stir.

You should be done at this point. It’s been a long day. You’ve been up as early as sunrise, spent hours behind makeup and measuring tape for a suit you won’t wear more than once. Smiling comes natural, if not downright fake; in front of the cameras, on the red carpet, on screen, and even during the afterparties. Every time you step out in public, there’s an image, a reputation to uphold. You’ve done this a dozen times in the past few months alone, bearing a lifetime’s worth of and it never gets more comfortable or easier. It’s a miracle you haven’t cracked or had a public breakdown, even though your mind is calling for it.

And yet, all that labor and agony is worth it for what you have now. The awards, the recognition, the adoration—but most especially the girl. What are you now, taken out of a story. One that feels all too familiar and done to death, but it never grows old or tired.

By all accounts, it should be a happy ending.

Except you’re not done. You’re not satisfied, and so is Hyewon. Even though she’s settling down in your embrace, resting her head against your heartbeats, mumbling these sweet nothings about how much you’ve ruined her and fucked her to shreds, she’s quietly begging for more. It isn’t about keeping a sanctimonious image anymore; it’s about how far you’ll push her and use her. Your throbbing cock buried inside her cunt says it too.

If there’s anything you’ve learned about acting, it’s that one take isn’t enough.

Like a damsel in distress, you scoop Hyewon into your arms. Through what you might consider a second wind, you carry her into the bathroom again on wobbly legs, stepping into the shower, showing that you’re ready to take your relationship a step further. You’ll hash out the details in the morning—if she hasn’t left by then.

The sound of running water serves as background for the airy, lewd noises that quickly fill the shower.

Hyewon feels incredibly soft to touch. Pliable in your grasp, like a doll to bend, twist, and use at your whim. You’re squeezing her flesh, fondling her mounds tightly till you’re seeing red everywhere. Her tits, her shapely ass, and everything in between. Kissing down her body, giving every little part its much needed attention. You’ve fucked her to pieces, yes, but she’s still housing a divine figure that deserves the same level of praise.

With two fingers stroking at her cunt, she’s keening, her head tilted up to meet the relentless downpour rushing down over your bodies. Her voice is in tatters after an hour of tireless screaming, in addition to all the mindless chatter from earlier tonight. Part of you wishes to have taken up her offer. Something this good shouldn’t be kept secret, but you’re more than selfish enough to keep Hyewon all to yourself.

Your raging impulse gets the better of you, and you slap her tits from behind. She yelps a cry of pain and pleasure. The recoil and sound activates something in your brain like a sleeper agent. You do it a second time, then a third. You stop counting after, indulging yourself in the satisfying noise of her mounds smacked over and over, every squeal, every strike equally as gratifying as your cock slamming into her pussy. She’s clinging to the walls as a respite, her body shuddering vigorously, but you don’t give her a moment to breathe. It’s what she would have wanted: to be used and taken like a ragdoll.

Hyewon screams again when you swing her around, lifting one leg around your waist, and slam your cock inside her. No pleasantries, no talking through the process—only a desire to fuck. Burying your face against her neck, growling into her skin like a ravenous beast, you hammer away without care for neither your comfort nor hers. You’re counting the hours, minutes, seconds before she disappears from your life, and you’re gonna make sure that years from now, she remembers this night in particular.

You’re too engrossed to see her expressions twist in impossible ways that average humans can make. But that’s the point: Hyewon is no ordinary person. She’s one actress, something that can be found in others who are more talented and have more resounding qualities, but more than that, to you, she’s everything. The clench of her cunt on your cock continues to invigorate you and push you further. With every thrust, she jumps and sends aftershocks coursing through your veins. God, you love how incredibly well she fucking takes it, and the slightest tilt of her lips struggling to form a grin reinforce this. You’ve got nothing else to say, really; you easily lose yourself in your own lust, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

It doesn’t take too long before you feel it again. The end. It’s approaching faster than you can react. You knew it wasn’t going to be a drawn out affair, but you’re so desperate to reach that high, no matter how brief it may be. It was too good to pass up, and you’re beyond waiting a second more.

You’d give everything up for even a single minute longer, but the period of bargaining has long passed you by.

“Gonna cum again—fuck—” is all you can muster, your first words after a long while. Her pussy feels so good to form coherent words. Lust has utterly consumed your brain more than anything. The entire time, Hyewon’s mewling, keening in every direction, trying to find purchase on the walls or the shower door, only to fall a few inches short. She ends up coming back to you, hanging on for dear life. You’ve never let up, terrified that she’ll magically disappear into nothing at any second.

Acting fast, as if you’ve got a ticking bomb in hand, you draw your cock out, coated in a thick sheen of your own cum and hers, pumping yourself with a few strokes of your hand until you finally explode. The shower washes down the milky white blot you’re unloading on her skin, never leaving a permanent mark. It does, however, bring you back to the place that began your undoing.

The tattoo on her rib.

Water wipes the cum blocking the view. Despite those same five words occupying your mind for the last few hours, it still hits like a fresh revelation. You hear her voice repeating them inside your head as you come to your senses, your lust being satiated—for now. Even when Hyewon is completely broken before you, reduced to a quiet pile of flesh. One hand on the surrounding wall, the other in limbo, her leg still coiled around your waist, forcing oxygen into her tired lungs wherever she can.

With the ‘quick’ shower done, and after hardly any cleaning was made, you carry her back to the bedroom.

You don’t even make it past the living room before your legs finally give up. You end up crashing onto the floor together before you both finally call it a night.

—————

“This is your fault you know,” says Hyewon, drawing circles on your chest, over your calm heartbeats. “I’m supposed to be in London tomorrow for my table read. And yet I’m still here. My flight was five hours ago by the way.”

It’s already high noon when you finally regain consciousness, your head still spinning despite not taking more than one alcoholic drink the night before. Hyewon’s doing marginally better, having woken up 30 minutes earlier. No wonder it feels so hot; her body is snuggled up on you, your limbs tangled. Despite the urgency she’s speaking about, she doesn’t seem to be interested in moving any time soon.

At least you’re awake and sensible enough to fire back. “Who’s fault is that? I wasn’t the one inviting you to come over and have you fucked senseless.”

She chuckles into your skin, little ripples forming where her lips are gently pressed. “And I wasn’t the one who spent the last 18 months saying we’re just friends.”

You’re already lying flat on the floor, but the rebuttal only makes you want to get up only to fall back down. So you settle with an expressive sigh.

Hyewon laughs. It’s what won over millions, including you. You’re taken back to that fateful day you first met. Right then and there, you knew there’d be no one else like her. If given an opportunity to go back and change a few things here and there or, you’d do it over again, mistakes included. Last night was worth all the waiting and teasing.

“So—about that show,” you lean up, pushing her closer to your face, “What was it again? Something about you being a nymphomaniac? Delete what?”

“You mean Delete This? Let’s not.”

Mention of the premise alone is enough to set her gummy cheeks on fire. For someone whose career has been built up on mostly more general audience friendly programming, leading a sexual soap opera is quite the jump.

She buries her head on your neck, embarrassed, feeling guilty. “Yeah. I mean, last night was—different, you know? I’ve shown my tits and body already, but I’ve never had sex—on screen before.”

You should have known. She needed a reason to get in your pants without your working relationship only centering around your bodies. And those were clearly stand-ins based on how her face is never shown during her older scenes.

“Jesus, Hyem. If you wanted to have sex, you could have asked anytime. You have no idea how annoyed I was when they scrapped our scene last minute. It was only you taking off your shirt too.”

“On the bright side, we didn’t have an intimacy director getting in the way, right?”

She does have a point. Still, your personal cold war didn’t need to last 18 months before either of you would make the first move.

But with all that tension a thing of the past, the chains are unfettered. Now both of you have the ability to take this little secret in any direction you desire. You could simply be a workplace couple; it’s been the story of your year so far. Or you could take things a step further. The possibilities are truly endless.

Hyewon’s cheeky grin slowly reforms, her hand snaking up to cup your cheek. “Shame we only had one night. I could spend the rest of the day here, but—” she huffs, “I’m running late. Too bad I won’t get to have this cock for a long, long time.”

You lift an amused eyebrow, barely able to keep your new cockiness from showing. “Will you, though?”

She’s taken completely by surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Check your phone.”

After rising to her feet, Hyewon walks over to the console table where her purse is set. Fishing her phone from the handbag, she scrolls through the apps, her attention di–vided between the screen and you on the floor, finally getting up as well.

Her stare then lingers on the phone, as if whatever headline of the day has caught her attention.

Next thing you know, she’s grabbing you by the chest, dragging you back to the bedroom before shoving you back onto the mattress—right where you belong. Pinning you down and dead to rights, Hyewon mounts herself on your lap, your cock pressed against her aching core, ready to receive a fresh beating.

Some jokes can go a little too far.

“You fucking asshole. You mean that—”

“Yep.”

“And it’s not—”

“It’s not.”

You can feel her hips slowly grinding against yours. You’re gonna love—and hate—the next 18 months with Hyewon.

“I’m going to kill you. And I mean: kill you.”

“No better way to go out.”

—————

(A/N: Thank you for the commission! That Hyewon dress is so ripe for material, and I had to incorporate her tattoos into it somehow. She doesn't show them quite often—heck, she hasn't publicly addressed them even once, I believe. That little nod at the end is for everyone still waiting for Delete this to return. At this point, a reimagining or remake must happen first before the next actual episode because good God my writing back then versus now is night & day. Even comparing the last update from 2022(?) to today is also radically different in style. I'm still interested in reviving it; it's just a matter of when, not if. Thank you for reading!)

#kpop smut #izone smut #hyewon smut #izone #hyewon

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lokisgoodgirl · 1 year ago

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No Mercy [Loki x Female Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki interrogates you....sexually. Warnings. 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Ceremonial erotica. Fun & Games. Soft! Dom Loki. Established relationship. Light bondage. Denial. (w/c 1.8k)

“Do you plead mercy, little one?” Loki’s voice is terrifyingly calm. If it weren’t for the violently hard erection pressed against his thigh beneath those tight, slutty trousers you might actually believe you were in danger. Deny me, you’d challenged him. Make me break. And he has. And he’s close.

“You’ll never make me talk,” you say defiantly. The layer of fear in your voice is fake, but the tremble isn’t.

It feels like you’re dripping on the bed, knees together, folded to the side, hands tied to the posts. Loki’s eyes flicker to the sheets beneath you as you squirm and a slight narrow of his eyes confirms that yes, you are in fact, dripping on the bed.

You’ve been at this for almost an hour. He’s barely touched you. Just a graze of his tactfully deployed fingers, a blindfold, the targeted skim of his breath and the devastation of his carefully chosen words.

Now the blindfold runs between his fingers as he tilts his head, thinking. “My interrogation requires a little more...finesse, then,” he says, making the blindfold disappear in a flash of green. “A touch more...pressure.’ You whine, yanking the thick leather binds wrapped around your wrists. The manufactured innocence on your face is like blood to a free-wolf and Loki’s lips curl in a wicked smile.

“I’ve been doing this a long, long time,” he says imperiously as he unbuttons a cuff. His long fingers make slow work of folding the sleeve up the meat of his forearm. “I may be a Prince, but an Interrogator of the Crown was my calling, I think. Don’t you?” Your chin rises and you nail him with your stare, hoping your tits look as great as you think they do. You arch valiantly towards his quiet wrath and with a deep breath, you deploy your best 50's starlet impression. “You’ll never break me….Loki Laufeyson.” He releases an exaggerated growl that makes new arousal well between your tightly closed thighs. “Is that right?”

A golden flicker licks from his forehead, the horned diadem unfurling from nothing at all. He’s working on the other sleeve as he swaggers to the side of the bed, taking his time. An oil of sweat has formed on your chest and you squirm for real, trying to break free. “You know how I feel about the horns, oh god-” you mutter, breaking character, clenching as another devilish smile stretches his lips. He stands by your head, crotch inches from your face. So close you can see his cock throb through the fabric. So close you can smell the earthy sweetness of his pre-cum. A low rumble of laughter penetrates the air. “I think you’re closer to defeat than you let on, little one,” he says, drawing a cool finger down your cheek. “Desperate to yield to me, desperate to give in to my demands; to furnish me with the carnal knowledge of your body that I require…that the realm requires.” Against every instinct screaming in your body, you yank your face away. “Perhaps not,” he says bitterly. A wave of dark sandalwood fills your nostrils as the mattress dips and Loki mounts the bed one impossibly long leg at a time.

He spreads his knees while he spreads yours. His face is bladed and angular in shadow, smouldering eyes sparkling beneath his battle-crown of gold.

The god reaches forward and runs his huge palms up the front of your thighs. His touch is electric. You buck up, feeling a web of arousal stick against the bedsheets. Loki glances at it through half-lidded eyes, his trunk heaving with heavy, silent breaths. “You bring this on yourself,” he whispers coldly as a strange object appears in his hand. It looks like a little bell with a round, tapered tip. But heavy. It looks heavy. There's a slight amber tint that warms in the low light.

“My seal,” he explains with an air of condescension. He swings it between his thumb and forefinger. “You will submit to me...one way or another.” He leans closer, dragging the cool golden seal over the curve of your breast and a violent shiver wrenches down your spine. “They always do,' he says. "And I have come prepared.” His eyes follow the metal seal’s descent over the dip of your waist, enjoying the shudders of overstimulation they cause. The graze of his raised markings harden your nipples and you strain your neck to the ceiling as he runs a line down the centre of your stomach and pauses at the top of your mound. The weight between your legs is unbearable; it’s an emptiness only Loki’s cock can fill. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk?” he murmurs sweetly with those dark brows peaked. But it’s an act, trying to trick you – of course. Oh god, he’s so fucking hot, it’s terrible. Every urge screams to cry mercy and have him fuck you like a victorious king; ride him as you hang onto those horns and make him see double. “Do it,” you spit, clenching your teeth. You yank the leather ropes again. “Pervert.” Loki’s brows rise in genuine surprise, a flash of mirth you recognise skating across his face before his features harden again. Role play with Loki is like nothing else. The king of your heart, but king of the performance too. “Very well,” he says, and the cool roll of metal slips against your cunt. He toys with it, pressing its ridged base against your clit and rubbing it in slow, maddening circles. “This seal has started wars,” he says in the same calm, even tone, “ended them, too.” Your stifle a groan of pleasure as the curved tip dips inside your pussy. Its sharp bite seems to melt inside the heat of your slit. “But you may be my greatest challenge,” he purrs as he slides it from the hole. You whimper as he brings it to his lips, rolling it, moaning in a low inhumane frequency. “And since I have just now claimed you with my crest...perhaps your conscience will allow me to claim you with my cock.” Your will to resist is fading fast. Loki tsk’s with feigned irritation as the seal vanishes and his attention turns to the mess beneath your legs. Arousal sticks to your inner thighs in a glistening sheet.

You groan as he flexes his fingers in front of his face, thick veins standing to attention on the back of his hands. He folds all but two, sucking them between his lips and hollowing his cheekbones in the process like an absolute whore. Without a pause, he curls them inside you and the air dissolves from your lungs in a strangled moan of his name. “Doesn’t count…” he warns. You look at him with your mouth open, brow a map of twitching lines. "You have to say it."

Loki kneels between your legs, as cool as Jotunheim ice, pumping his fingers slowly inside your slippery cunt, thumb sliding against your swollen clit with an arrogant smirk on his face. Your hips rise to meet him on every thrust of his palm. Breath comes in short bursts as you clench around his fingers, back arching into his touch as orgasm threatens to ruin you- He slips them out. “Loki!”

The frustration is real - no need to act. The god’s eyes widen in a shameless caricature of innocence. “I have given you every opportunity to yield to me, I have I not?” He pushes the rolled sleeves of his perfectly fitted shirt higher in a targeted attack. Your legs have begun to tremble at the loss of his touch. “And at every opportunity," he continues, "you have stayed true to your loyalties...which I respect."

The ceremonial sincerity in his voice is sickeningly erotic as he hooks his hands beneath your knees. “But pleasure...true pleasure...is a privilege reserved for those who yield to me.”

The sharp cool of his metal diadem stings your flesh as he kisses your inner thigh. He draws closer to your desperate sex, so close you can feel his breath cool against it as he says, “So cry mercy darling, and it will be yours.” He’s really dialled the drama up to eleven tonight. Instinctually you try and lurch your arms forward to grab the curve of his horns and press him deep into your pussy; mad for the feel of his tongue flat and flawless moving against it. “Oh god,” you whimper, fighting yourself. “Good girl,” he purrs, grazing his parted lips over your swollen labia. It’s too much. “Oh god, Loki…” “Good girl, say it...beg for it,” he spits as he falls back on his haunches and reaches for the button of his suit trousers. He looks so fucking mean.

The beat in your chest has turned to syrupy thumps as your legs straighten and contract on either side of him. “You want to be my good girl…” A pop echoes and his cock suddenly weighs in his hand like a weapon. You’re salivating...actually salivating. He pumps slowly back and forth, jaw clenching, his eyes hard as flints. “Don’t make me finish myself on your traitorous face.”

“Mercy,” you gasp. Loki’s grin widens and it touches his eyes. He licks his lips. “Do you want me to stay in character?” he asks quietly as his clothes disappear- everything but the horned diadem on his head.

His shoulders roll and every muscle in his torso tightens, thighs bulging as he clenches against the punishing grip of his fist. You bite your lip, nodding. His eyes flash. “Well chosen,” Interrogator Loki says. The hard edge in his voice has returned with a vengeance and he melts the leather binds holding you with a wave of his hand. “I trust my faith in your repentance is not misplaced,” he says as he crawls up your body with intent. Loki’s hair swings around your jaw, the scent of him, the weight of him. His length presses like metal against your throbbing clit and you buck your hips, trying to catch him. Every thought in your head evaporates as Loki of Asgard buries himself inside you with a shuddering exhale. Your legs wrap around his hips, forcing his ass down, pushing him deeper.

There’s a thud, and then another one; the curve of his horns beating against the headboard. Loki deploys a wolfish smile as his fingers curl around your wrists. “Can’t take any chances with my minx of a prisoner,” he whispers against your cheek. “No mercy,” you moan into his open mouth. It’s a request he understands as he delivers another targeted roll of his hips. “No mercy,” he replies.

A/N - Have I told you guys how much I love you recently? Because I really do. I hope you know that. x

Tags ( in comments - all of you, soz. Normal way is not workinnng)

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x you #loki x you smut #loki x reader smut #loki x female reader #lokismut #loki odinson #loki imagine #loki marvel #loki oneshot

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velunas · 1 year ago

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i'm your little scarlet, starlet, singin' in the garden

summary: your sweet boyfriend jay eats you out for the first time

warnings: smut!!! oral (f receiving), swearing, corruption kink, dirty talk, uhhh i think that’s it

wc: 2,042

a/n: i wrote this in like an hour & a half and i actually hate it so much. pls leave feedback lol im an attention whore

minors do not interact plz! xx

"just tell me."

"nuh-uh."

"pleaseeeeee?"

"not happening. just drop it, jay. i don't wanna talk about this anymore." you pout, turning your body away from his. you lie flat on your back, staring up at his blank ceiling, but your view of plain white is suddenly obstructed by your boyfriend. he'd been bugging you to tell him just how experienced you were since you had let it slip that your first kiss was only last year. "please, baby? i just wanna know. promise i won't laugh or tell anyone." he says, holding his pinky finger out to you to exaggerate his point.

you roll your eyes and slap his hand away. "m’not telling you, jay. it's embarrassing!" you tell him, moving your hands from your sides to cover your face, which was already heating up. you can feel him stifle a giggle at your side, which makes you whine. "see! you're already laughing at me." he straddles you, using his much larger hands to pull yours from your face. "i'm laughing 'cause you're cute, baby. everything you do is cute cause you're my girl, yeah?" he asks, bringing his thumb up to caress your bottom lip.

you nod at that, pressing a small kiss to the pad of his thumb. he smiles and presses his thumb harder at the seam of your lips. "has anyone ever put anything in here, baby?" he inquires, parting your lips with his finger and brushing his thumb over your teeth. you shake your head, too shy to verbally answer his question, but that isn't enough for him.

he removes his thumb from your mouth and instead uses his hand to squeeze your cheeks together. "didn't i just ask you a question? c'mon, angel, you know how to use your big girl words. answer me, has anyone ever put anything in this pretty little mouth of yours?"

"n-no. no one ever put anything in here." you sputter, feeling your stomach turn at the way he's speaking to you. "hmm, that's what i thought. my sweet innocent girl. has anyone ever kissed you like i have?" you know how to answer properly this time, so you do. "no, no one has ever kissed me the way you do." you answer, keeping your eyes glued to his shoulder, too embarrassed to keep eye contact with him. "s'what i thought. gimmie a kiss, pretty girl." he tells you, and you obey, looking up at him and connecting your lips.

his tongue immediately invades your mouth, brushing over your teeth and exploring the entirety of your mouth before tangling with your own. there was something so distinct about the way he tasted, like warm cinnamon and ginger. it made you shiver, which jay picked up on immediately. he pulled away from you slowly, admiring the string of saliva that connected the two of you, making you flush and squeeze your eyes shut. he moves his mouth to your neck, kissing and licking at your pulse point.

he presses one last kiss to your neck and pulls away. "s'it good baby? you like it when i kiss you like that?" he asks, although the smirk on his face makes it clear that he knows the answer. "y-yeah, i like it. makes me feel like-" you pause, not knowing how to describe what you’re feeling. he nods his head as to tell you to go on, and you do. "makes me feel warm down there." you voice. he takes his hand that had been lying by your head and places it on your clavicle "here?" he asks condescendingly.

you shake your head no, and he moves his hand down to cup your breast. "here?" his fingers find your nipple through the thin shirt and bralette that you were currently wearing. you gasp and push your chest into his hand. "has anyone ever seen you here, sweetheart?" his hands graze the bottom of your shirt, and you shake your head. "can i?" he asks, and you nod. "didn't we just go over this, baby? use your words."

you sigh, trying to articulate your point before speaking again "i want you to take my shirt off, jay. want you to be the first to see me like that." you admit. he lets out a groan and bites his lip while gripping the sides of your shirt. "arms up, baby."

you lift your arms above your head and he slips your shirt off of your body. the coldness of his room (or the intensity of his stare) causes your nipples to harden, turning into pretty peaks hidden under soft pink lace. "so fucking pretty, jesus christ." he says, dragging one hand up the length of your stomach to your right breast, palming it.

“so soft and sweet. all for me, right?” his voice is so low it’s almost unrecognizable. you nod “yeah, s’all for you, jay.” your response is rewarded soft smile before he ducks his head down to suck your covered nipple into his mouth.

you let out a squeak, tangling your left hand in his hair, while your right stays by your side, curled into a fist. his tongue laves over your stiff lace-covered bud until he’s satisfied, pulling away to look at the wet spot he left. the loss of his mouth makes you whine, silently begging for more. "can i take this off, baby? it'll feel so much better." he explains, grazing his fingers over the delicate fabric of your bralette. you know he's right. if the feeling of his mouth through your top makes warmth travel south, what would it feel like with no barrier? you nod faster than you can speak.

"please take it off, jay? wanna feel your mouth, pretty please?" you beg, batting your eyelashes at him. jay groans and adjusts the very prominent bulge in his sweatpants. his hands grasp at the cups covering your breasts and he pulls. the sound of fabric tearing hits your ears before you realize what's happening. before you can protest, his mouth connects with your nipple. teeth and tongue cover your sensitive bud, licking and biting. a moan leaves your mouth before you can stop it.

he smiles up at you and uses his free hand to play with the fabric of your sleeping shorts, which makes you buck your hips into his hands. he releases your tit, giving it one last kiss before pushing his body up to kiss you again. his knee presses in between your thighs, rubbing deliciously against your clit. he detaches your lips to press hot open-mouthed kisses to your neck. his hand again reaches down to your shorts. "can i take these off too, baby doll? just wanna make my girl feel good. can i make you feel good?"

"we don't have to do anything, baby. don't wanna make you uncomfortable, just wanna make you feel nice," he says, caressing your cheek.

"please take them off, jay? want you to touch me and make me feel good. i want you to do it, please." you say, clenching your fists at your side. he smiles at you, presses a sweet kiss to your lips, and lowers himself down his bed. coming face to face with your most sensitive area, he pulls your shorts down quickly and comes in contact with your pretty lace boyshorts.

his fingers trace the intricate patterns on your hips and slip down to rub over your covered slit. his fingers and eyes meet the sticky sweetness in between your thighs. He sucks in a quick breath and thanks whatever god blessed him with an angel like you. he hooks his fingers into your panties and slips them off. you watch his reaction closely, his bottom lip is trapped by his teeth.

it seems he's in awe of your pussy. his eyes trace the length of your folds, glued to the strings of arousal that wet your lower lips and inner thighs. "such a sweet little pussy. pretty pussy for a pretty girl. can i taste it?" he asks, his warm breath coming out in puffs against your sensitive parts. you squirm under his gaze, unsure of how to answer. "b-but what about you? wan'you to feel good too, jay."

he coos at your reply, pressing a sweet kiss to your inner thigh. "s'gonna be good for me too, baby. been wanting to taste you for so long. i think about how good your pussy will taste when i touch myself at night. might just make me cum in my fuckin pants." he admits, adjusting his bulge again.

his admission makes you whine and push your hips up, searching for pleasure. "but what if i don't taste good? or what if i-" he cuts you off by pressing his face into your cunt, laving his tongue against your honeyed cunt. you let out a loud whine, throwing your arms over your face. his hot tongue wriggles between your folds before he sucks your clit into his mouth. he splays one hand over your hips, preventing you from wiggling out of his grip, while his other hand reaches for your own.

his hand grips yours, and he squeezes, providing you with a bit of comfort. your heartbeat quickens as you feel his tongue exploring parts that only you have touched. his lips move in a way that reminds you of the way he kisses you. messy and passionate. you let yourself relax, giving in to the sensations flowing through your body. jay licks thick stripes from your hole to your hardened pearl, drinking from you as if you were leaking ambrosia.

you moan sharply, thrusting your hips into his mouth the best you can with his arm holding you down. he removes it, taking his middle finger and rubbing it against your hole. he detaches his mouth from you, keeping his eyes on your pussy as he pushes his finger inside of you. he sucks in a harsh breath “holy shit, baby. you’re so fucking tight. don’t you touch yourself?” he asks

you take a deep breath before responding. “s-sometimes, but my fingers aren’t as big as yours. it’s never felt like this before” you moan out. he smiles at you and dips his head back down between your thighs. he speeds up the movement of his finger and speaks again “that’s right. i’m the only one who can make you feel like this.” he rasps, before connecting his mouth with your clit again, sucking hard. you cry out and tangle your hands in his soft locks. he pushes another finger into your slick pussy and laps at the wetness that leaks onto the base of his fingers.

your brain feels fuzzy and the only thing you can think to say is his name. his movements speed up as you cry out, and the bed creaks as he thrusts his hips into the mattress. jay can practically feel himself spiraling at the way you’re lost in the pleasure he’s providing you. he can feel you clench around his two fingers, your orgasm impending. he doubles his efforts, suckling on your clit while his fingers press into your g-spot, and that’s what unravels you. your hips arch and you sob out a broken moan, squeezing your thighs around his head as your orgasm washes through you.

jay kisses around your thighs and eases his fingers out of your slit. as your breathing regulates, he slithers up the length of your body and places the two fingers that were just inside of you on your closed lips and taps as if to say ‘open up’. your lips part and he presses his fingers onto your tongue. he smiles as you seal your lips around his drenched digits.

“see how sweet you taste, baby?” he asks. you hum around his fingers and nod your head. as he removes them from your mouth, you peer down at the wet patch over his obvious boner in his sweatpants.

you frown at him and run your hand down his torso to the happy trail that disappears into his pants. “can i help you, too?” you question, looking up at him with curious eyes. he smirks at you and pushes his hips into your own. “i’m gonna ruin you, sweet girl.”

#enhypen smut #park jongseong smut #jay park smut #enhypen imagines #enhypen hard hours #enha smut #enha hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #smut #kpop smut #kpop hard hours #jhopezwrld #my writing

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romanoffsbish · 1 year ago

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Method Acting

Scarlett Johansson x F!R

Request | When your friend gives you the leading role in her debut sapphic rom-com you find yourself elated, but then you see who her star-studded casting managed to be and suddenly you aren’t too sure what to do. How does one work with their crush in such intimate ways and not swoon further? | WC: 2,516

Smut: Masturbation (R) — Non-con 👀 (SJ) | Mommy (SJ) | Oral / Fingering (R) | Thigh-Riding (SJ) | Overstimulation (R)

18+ | Minors DNI

"Where'd all that confidence go, hm?" You gulped, not only to remain in character, but because Scarlett was literally hovering over your body and it was like the air around you'd thinned. Your head felt light, but you still managed to stutter out your line, "I-It was a r-ruse."

Bentley chuckled, "You know, I don't think I mind," then she lowered her smirking face into the crook of your neck, your breath dramatically hitched, and you threw your head back to give her the necessary space to leave behind her pale pink gloss for the camera to see.

——

This was meant to be acting, but she wasn't exactly not sucking a partial mark into your skin, fortunately it was hidden from any lens viewpoint, and it only really added to the scene as you moaned out affectedly.

"There you go Raina," she rasped against your cheek, smearing her collected spit and gloss on the skin. "I knew you'd be a perfect little dove for your mommy, you just needed me to help dumb you down, hm..."

You whimpered the title inquisitively, giving off the characters innocent girl aura as her lips clashed into yours, but deep in your soul you wanted to scream it.

Well, for the blonde starlet that is, Scarlett was nothing short of a goddess, her beauty perceivably effortless. It came with many perks, one of those being the ability to have people figuratively crumble before her. You had actually done so physically when you first shook her hand, it was embarrassing and she's teased you since.

When she wasn't teasing you though she was a natural nurturer. There was a calmness she brought to your anxious life that you were going to miss when filming inevitably comes to an end. Which was actually taking place this week, today you were working on the climax.

Bentley, her character, finally had a chance to corner Raina so that she could finally prove her love with the length of her fingers. Up until now your character had been avoiding Bentley as they were forced to see one another at the weekend long reception of a mutual.

Maritza, the director, screenwriter, and best friend of yours wanted the sex to feel real, so she is letting you two feel it out in a set of scenes. Scarlett appreciated the artistic creativity, because she wanted nothing more than to bring you to bliss, even if only fictionally as she knew the cameras were rolling. You genuinely liked the idea of an organic, sapphic scene too, but you just wished it could have been with any other actress.

Not the one you were recklessly falling in love with.

"Cut!" The director called after she felt there was enough tension, and kissing caught for the scene. She was also your very best friend, and knew you were likely spiraling beneath the surface; below Scarlett.

As soon as the director gave you the all clear for the night you took off without even sparing the blonde a glance. Months on this set with her and she'd teased you every step of the way, playing on your obvious crush, the one you'd publicized just a year ago.

"Y/N, who's your celebrity crush?" It was an easy question to answer, and since you were such a newcomer in the acting world it felt harmless to give them one, "Scarlett Johansson, she is just so gorgeous, and that voice of hers is just, ugh, don't even get me started." Or so you thought. Because not even three months later did you find out she'd be playing the love interest in this low-budget, cheesy sapphic rom-com.

The blonde was absolutely ecstatic when she got the script in her email because it came with your name attached. This was your closest friend's script, so you were given the lead without any issues, except for the casting. Without you ever knowing she took a shot in the dark by sending it to the woman who'd grown interested in you the moment she saw you in that interview. When you got the casting news you were mortified, and the blonde used that to her advantage.

There was no denying you meant it when she arrived on set for the chemistry read through, you were a bit of a stuttering mess—true to the character, but it was clear to the blonde that you were just being yourself. Scarlett played the part a bit too well, but she still kept it hidden that she desired you too. Until tonight she'd believed it was never going to go anywhere, but then you moaned in her ear and she realized it had to.

You weren't the only one affected by the small scene.

Scarlett was outside your trailer, her fingers flexed against the chill of the air as she prepared herself to knock on your door. It was Thursday night, normally she would go home, but she knew you were staying on the lot to cut costs so she felt compelled to stop by.

Without an answer she took it upon herself to open the door, noting her worry as the excuse for why she did. When she entered the trailer she was overwhelmed by a heady scent, and as she turned the corner to find you with your hand buried between your legs she'd found the delightful source. Scarlett said nothing as her body leaned against the wall, eyes focused in on the way your puffy lips devoured three of your fingers whole.

"Scarlett..."

The blonde's eyes snapped up to your face, fearing that she'd been caught, but it proved to be the other way around as you moaned her name upon releasing.

"My character's name is Bentley," she cooly teased, startling you into yelping and scrambling to grab the blanket that had bunched up by the end of your bed. Scarlett beat you to it, taking a predatory leap forward so that she could keep you from hiding your body. "None of that baby girl, don't hide from me now."

"S-Scar," you breathlessly muttered her name, or better yet part of it as she cupped your jaw and kissed you into a state of stunned silence. "Let's practice our scene for tomorrow darling, make it extra authentic."

"I-I don't think—." Scarlett slipped her thumb into your mouth, pressing down on your teeth to still you. "Oh, pretty girls like you should never try to think."

When she released her grip on your mouth she'd forcefully pushed you back onto the mattress, making your body bounce and driving your mind into madness all while she slipped out of her sweatsuit. The arousal you'd already felt doubled in intensity, mind alit with the endless possibilities for how this could go. Your mouth slowly filled with saliva as she sauntered closer to you while only dressed in her expensive lingerie set.

"You're so beautiful," you softly acknowledged and she offered you a genuine smile in return. Her lips gently pressed to yours as soon as she climbed over you and you both melted at the touch. "Thank you angel."

Scarlett took her time with kissing you, she didn't even move to deepen it until she felt your slick on her skin.

"I'm going to devour you Raina," she winked playfully and you met her tease with a smile that warmed her heart. "Make my dreams come true then Bentley."

Something about hearing her characters name didn't sit well with her, even if she had started the play on words, joking shoved aside she needed you to know this was more than a over the top scene preparation.

Scarlett pulled your body down the mattress by your ankles, throwing your legs open she took in a big whiff as her nose nuzzled into your plush thigh. "It seems I'll be making both of ours come true," she laboredly breathed against your slick cunt, "Just as long as you know there's no copyright on Scarlett," she winked and husked as your eyes widened, "Scream it for me Y/N."

"Oh Scarlett," you cried as soon as her tongue firmed itself against your folds, a long, drawn out moan left her as she tasted your glorious slick for the first time. The both of you were immensely pleased, your body began to squirm the more you felt your orgasm build. Her arm had to lay against your abdomen to hold you down so that her tongue could lash at you unchecked.

Your pleasure was entirely under her control, and the thought alone had the both of you teetering over the edge, ready to fall further into one another. Scarlett was unsure how that was even possible though, she'd loved you after a month into the filming, on a night when cast and crew rented out the local bar and she actually went regardless of her star power status. It was the only time you'd talked to her so openly, the booze in your system dropped your nerves and you let her hear all of your hometown childhood stories.

There was a twinkle of purity in your eye that she found refreshing that night, but this new glossy look you wore was far more enticing to the blonde starlet.

You looked almost peaceful, but beneath the surface you were absolutely losing your mind. Her masterful tongue was showing your fingers up in real time, your hot slick flowing out of you as if you were a leaking faucet, slowly dripping down from her chin and settling atop of the exposed skin of her bare breasts.

Which only made her move with more efficiency, her tongue slowly curled inside of you, caressing your g-spot as the tip of her nose pressed into your clit and you lost control of your every sense. Gasping for air as pleasure coursed through your trembling form, blurry white stars filled your vision as your eyes crossed and the taste of something metallic coated your tongue as you harshly bit down on your lower lip before you were screaming incoherently, her name sinfully intermixed.

You felt her smirk against your thigh and couldn't help but to smile yourself as you felt her kiss up your body with a softness that transcended all prior carnality. There was this break in the tension as she tenderly locked her lips to yours, tongues dancing around the other as her hands anchored to your chest, fondling the malleable skin as if it was second nature. Soft whines reverberated into her mouth the longer that she played with your sensitive breasts as she kissed you dumb.

Eventually the blonde felt this intense urge to satiate her own body, so she pulled back and you whimpered. "Fuck, you're so hot Y/N," she groaned as she stared at you, so beautifully spaced out, the thin line of spit tethering your lips together snapped as she grinned.

"You know, you're my celebrity crush too," she teased, finding amusement in the way you tried to shimmy away from her, but her hands firmly pressed down, keeping your body stilled by her grip on your breasts.

"Don't try and run now darling," she purred against your neck, her face having dipped down so that she could finish the job she started during your shoot.

"Scar, th-the movie," you warned but she simply didn't care, the woman chuckled against your skin, "Oh love, you know as well as I do that make up can cover this, plus, this is really just us aiding the film, you know?"

Scarlett continued on bruising your soft skin with her teeth as you couldn't, nor did you really want to, find a reason to dissuade her from her current ministrations. Just as soon as she was satisfied with her hard work she flipped you onto your stomach without warning.

A low moan left the both of you as her cunt touched down, your body shivered as her slick smeared onto the back of your thigh, the idea that you'd turned her on that much hadn't even permeated your mind until now and with the physical evidence you felt powerful. Even if she was on top, you aided her by tensing your muscles to which she rewarded you with a hoarse moan and two fingers that slid between your slick lips.

The both of your bodies moved in steamy tandem, your front being pressed further into the mattress with every rough thrust of her fingers and hips. The room soon became a lewd symphony as your skin slapped together and the both of your slick seeped and spread, all working to drown out your soft, choked moans.

With her free hand no longer on your hip you were thrown further into the depths of pleasure as her palm roughly pressed down on your abdomen just as her fingers reached your depth, your body jerked but she just kept going down until she could play with your clit.

"Mommy," you screamed the desired honorific, it almost sounded like a plea for mercy, but the blonde had none to show you, she instead slid a third finger into your core causing you to spasm uncontrollably. Which in turn tensed your muscles up even further, and sent her into a state of immense bliss, her teeth instinctively sunk into your shoulder and drew blood.

Her body had arched back then dropped to the side of yours in a matter of seconds, her fingers stayed buried within your warmth, almost like a place of comfort. It took you far longer than her to regain your composure as this was actually your fifth orgasm of the evening. The other two having happened before she caught you.

Nevertheless, you were able to form a sentence as you felt her fingers vacate your pussy, "W-what was this?"

Scarlett had been shifting to a place of comfort when your disconcerting question was aired, you caught her completely off guard but upon settling her cheek down on your bare ass she hummed softly in thought. Then as she really thought about it, imagining a future where you'd part ways after filming ended, she frowned.

"You're mine," she tiredly growled against the sweaty skin of your ass, her teeth nibbled at the round flesh as she gave you her answer (demand). "Then, now, the point is you'll always be mine Y/N so get comfortable."

"I'm plenty comfortable," you murmured, words a bit muffled as your face burrowed into your silky pillow. Scarlett smiled to herself, her heart officially settled now that she knows you understood; you were hers, this sinful endeavor was her official sealing of a deal.

Her worn down body sidled up by your side, still her strong arm wrapped around your midsection so that she could pull you close enough for her to feel your body against hers. "Goodnight baby girl, I think we've done enough work to ensure the scene will be a hit..."

—

When tomorrow came, and the scene was shot you two found it only took one go as the sexual chemistry was palpable. Maritza had winked, and mouthed a 'your welcome' thinking that you'd just won the blonde over, but unbeknownst to her this was just an encore...

Or as the sapphics would simply call it, round two.

#scarlett johansson #scarlett johansson imagine #scarlett johansson fanfiction #scarlett johansson fic #scarlett johansson fluff #scarlett johansson smut #scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson x you #scarlett johansson x y/n #scarlett johansson x female reader #scarlett johansson x fem!reader #scarlett x reader #scarlett x you #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine

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hrrtshape · 26 days ago

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　 v-day in my better cr, 　　 volume ii . . .

so. if you, inexplicably, criminally, missed the valentine’s day saga (what were you doing? a sensory deprivation tank? a vow of silence? serving a light sentence at rikers?), you can read the full rundown elsewhere, aka at the top. but the tl;dr is that coryo flew me to paris and spent a borderline inadmissible amount of spoils on me. disturbing, actually. feels premeditated. but let’s not dwell.

꒰ day two.

next morning, i had that creeping, noir-movie score suspicion that he was plotting something again. something elaborate. something requiring a mise-en-scène shift. and oh, oh. guess. guess what. anyway. he tells me to dress nice but practical, like we’re off to climb everest. we’d be walking a lot, apparently. deeply untrustworthy.

so i sip my little mimosa. gnaw on a croissant. watch the outside air glitter in that way that makes you feel like the protagonist in a godard film. and then. and then.

we get dressed. we slip into a car he’s rented from free2move (if you know about my cr escapades, this is a crucial, ominous detail). we drive for thirty-five minutes. at every stop, like some kafkaesque harbinger of doom, that mickey mouse billboard flashes past. you’re getting closer. and i’m sitting there, freshly enlightened, clocking him. a day after valentine’s? disneyland? peak crowd levels? claustrophobia waiting to happen? it’s giving sardine tin. it’s giving battlefield. but sure. fine.

we arrive. and it’s disneyland, in all its grotesque splendour. the air smells like synthetic nostalgia and churros. within seconds, he’s dragging me into one of those manic little gift shops, buying me minnie mouse ears with the urgency of a man paying off a gambling debt. he spends the rest of the day adjusting them atop my hair like a stage mother fussing over a starlet. i try to make him buy some to match. he shoots me a look, the kind of side-eye that would make a lesser woman wither. whatever. we eat beignets in the cold while performing a forensic analysis of the general public’s outfits.

first ride, of course, has to be mad hatter’s tea cups. i make him get on. he gets off trying to act unaffected, like some postmodernist take on masculinity, but he looks one sharp movement away from projectile vomiting. then straight to haunted mansion because, obviously, it’s the best one. sublime. evocative. big thunder mountain next, where he keeps his arm around me like a bodyguard anticipating an assassination attempt. it’s a small world. he resists. i drag him anyway. by the end, he looks like he’s lived through a particularly harrowing wartime flashback. i document this moment for future blackmail.

i do attempt to push him towards cinderella for a photo. he refuses. but, plot twist, he does bow slightly to maleficent. he buys me another pair of minnie ears (concerning). we hit the studio park, ride ratatouille, and demolish seven consecutive snacks. at some point, i fake a bathroom break. deception!! espionage!! i slip behind him and pop the most aggressively bland, stoically masculine mickey mouse ears onto his head. he looks like a disgruntled victorian child being forced to pose for a family portrait. exquisite.

we tackle eight more rides. he grumbles, theatrically, about the prevalence of screaming children. someone side-eyes us for speaking english. i, a known non-american, take deep offence. we circle back to haunted mansion, because we understand art. and then. the fireworks show. it’s soft-focus, it’s cinematically framed, it’s almost sickening. he stands behind me, arms wrapped around my waist, whispering things, pressing kisses into my hair. disgusting. humiliating. we should be shunned by society.

then back to paris. tragic. except not really, because we return to the hemingway suite at the ritz, where everything is soft and golden and marlene dietrich probably committed minor sins. we steal champagne. as one does.

꒰ day three.

okay. next day. because, obviously, i am dating the most absurdly good-looking creature to walk this earth, the kind of man whose cheekbones could inspire revolutions. so, of course, he is taking me somewhere else. once more.

we wake up. my feet are dead. rigor mortis has set in below the knee. my entire existence is compromised. meanwhile, coryo, ever the sybarite, orders a hotel breakfast so luxurious it should come with a tax audit. freshly baked viennoiseries, fruit so plump it looks photoshopped, eggs that have been fluffed within an inch of their life. pain perdu drenched in maple syrup, glistening like a bribe. he reads something in french, butchering it magnificently. i correct him mid-bite.

little dress, little boots, big mistake. coryo, ever the pessimist or, rather, the man who knows me too well, grumbles about how my feet will fail me. he tucks ballet flats into my bag, muttering something prophetic. manifest destiny. foreshadowing. ah, literature.

we take the train (yes. train!!!!) to versailles. sitting side by side, heads resting against each other, the whole thing nauseatingly cinematic. every period drama you’ve ever seen, but with better hair.

versailles, golden and gaudy and ghost-ridden. we walk through the town, hand in hand, my scarf slightly askew because i am chic but incompetent. coryo keeps fixing it, scowling, something about how i’ll get cold, perish, and then what? he’ll be alone??? we reach the gates. he sighs. mumbling about how he should've been a king.

inside, the mirrors swallow us whole. coryo, predictably, stares at himself for too long. i take approximately 140 photos in the first twenty minutes. then, tragedy: he becomes insufferable. every gilded room, a fantasy. a pause. a prolonged stare. a solemn nod. an "i could live here." i drag him forward. then, revenge. marie antoinette’s bedroom. i coo. i sigh. i nearly weep. i try to sneak into a restricted area, whispering that i once read about a secret passage. now he drags me away. an even score.

ladurée. obscene quantities of macarons. he feeds me each one with theatrical precision, licking his fingers after every bite. infuriating. romantic. he earns a glare, a sigh, a begrudging toothy smile. we sit in the gardens, sharing a vape.

the petit trianon. coryo mutters something about buying it. i haul him back to reality. i reimagine us as illicit lovers in the 18th century, tell him i would’ve written him devastatingly good love letters, kept them tied in pink ribbon. he plays along, tragic and smirking. then, the temple of love. obvious. inevitable. he kisses me there.

but the best part, the part that sticks, is the little hamlet. disneyland if disney had taste. i say as much ten times. we agree, solemnly, that we like it better than disneyworld.

now. my boots. let’s talk about my boots. because despite the power of denial, my feet, shockingly, begin to ache. and then, as if scripted, coryo, my dearest prophet, pulls out the ballet flats. he carries my boots in his hands, refusing to dirty my bag. stupid. ridiculous. perfect. he earns a kiss for that.

as the sky bruises, we leave. rent a car (again). drive back to the hotel. somewhere between the road signs and his hand on my thigh, he kisses my cheek, murmurs for me to stay put. then, inexplicably, puts my boots away in our room himself. prince charming. (peep the ever after high dr).

dinner. eiffel tower in view. glasses clinking, candlelight flickering, some absurdly good food making its way into our bloodstream. disgustingly romantic. borderline illegal. the kind of night you never really recover from.

and then, a slow walk back, his arm heavy around my shoulders, the parisian night unfolding.

finite. no. jk. we spent two more days there but it’s nothing grandiose. and the reason this took me almost a month to write is. because. i was lazy. plus we broke up. but then got back together. so. everything's good.

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theoriquewitherseld · 3 months ago

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The association

Redrew their adult versions bc I really need to diversify unique features while also portraying their personalities... Which while I think it's an improvement, I don't think I've quite nailed it yet. May rework some of the minor features, particularly the eyes.

Some notes on the design choice:

Jacques & Kit - they're twins halves of the same whole to me, so they have the same face, just different vibes. Jacques is supposed to give the impression of a cool, strict, if a lil cold older brother, while Kit is the more carefree, also cool, affectionate older sister.

Lemony - I added scars from when Stew beat him up. His eyes are the same as his siblings.

Moxie - Other than polishing up the structure of her face and adding freckles, I think I really got her right from the get-go. 10/10 no further notes.

Cleo - She's supposed to look intimidating and regal, her hair is meant to evoke a "queen". She looks fierce, but she's nicer than she looks.

Jake - when he was younger, his hair is curlier and down, now he has it styled. He's meant to look friendly.

Ellington - doesn't look mysteriously enough ngl, but she does have femme fatale vibes. Kinda.

Lizzie - literally just Hedy Lamarr in terms of face. I really want a look that screams "STARLET", so she's the prettiest/most elegant looking here.

Kellar - my intention for him is that bc of his harried and anxious nature, he gives off the impression of being unapproachable and unpleasant.

Squeak - the youngest of the group, he grew up but still maintaining that core mischievousness. He looks a lot like Pip.

Pip - forgot to draw his glasses, anyways he looks more of a refined gentleman here bc he's now officially a librarian, a prestigious job.

Ornette - meant to look classy, enigmatic, and amiable. Perfect for a hotel proprietor.

#all the wrong questions #atwq #the association au #lemony snicket #kit snicket #jacques snicket #moxie mallahan #cleo knight #jake hix #ellington feint #lizzie haines #kellar haines #pip bellerophon #squeak bellerophon #ornette lost #pencil artz

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 8 months ago

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Starlet

Dieter Bravo x Co-Star x Wife Reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Your husband has a big movie premiere, sure he looks great, but his co-star looks even better. Warnings: PWP, threesome, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), lesbian fun, unprotected p in v sex, cum eating, addiction talk, sober Dieter, Kit Kats, I wrote this for the bi girls. Words: 3,750

A/N: This has been a labor of love and horniness. You should all just automatically know I'm thanking @ohheypedrito for always being my sounding board. Also @magpiepills for sharing in my MFF joy. Shout out to "Kiss Me More" by Doja Cat & SZA.

Masterlist

___

Fancy hotel suites might just be the biggest perk of marrying a Hollywood superstar. Room service whenever you want, plush robes to relax in, a balcony view of Los Angeles’ glimmering lights, and a large plush bed perfect to fit two… or three bodies.

Sure, you could have stayed home and waited for the car service to bring Dieter home after the premiere, but when the studio offers a free hotel suite, you and Dieter happily accept. You love to get fucked by your husband in a new bed.

You’ve just dove into your new book, laid out on the chaise lounge of the balcony, sunning yourself in the early evening Summer sun when your phone dings with its customary Dieter ding.

He should be getting ready for the movie premiere; what does he need to tell you?

You unlock your phone to a pic of Dieter sadly pointing to a large brown stain on his crisp, light blue shirt.

Baby, this just happened. Did you pack a backup? Nope. Do you have anything of mine here? Just your old Rage Against The Machine shirt I was wearing earlier. Sold. I’ll take it. I’ll send Julien up to grab it. Go have him buy a shirt. It has holes... Nope. Now that I thought of having your scent on me all night, I need to wear it. Spray it with that perfume you use… Fine. You win. Love you baby. xoxo

You wonder why his team of publicists, assistants, and agents let Dieter style himself… or why they never remember to pack him an extra shirt.

He’s the love of your life, your uber famous partner, deserving of all of the rekindled fame, now sober and in the best place he’s been, thanks in large amounts to your influence.

You walked into his life weeks after his divorce, a man lost with a floundering career. He was too dangerous to work with, too manic, too unreliable. Then, you came in and helped pick his life up, as a favor to your friend Chrissy, his tenacious agent. You’re never supposed to fall in love with a client, but Dieter was just too irresistibly charming. You fucked him in your office after his third session. All of that hard work and student debt that earned you a psychology degree ended up getting you a diamond on your left ring finger and a dream wedding full of Hollywood elites.

You spritz the faded black shirt with your signature perfume and fold it for Julien to expeditiously deliver back to your husband. The wild life of a celebrity wife…

___

Your phone is propped up against a crystal vase that probably costs more than your first car streaming the red carpet premiere and Q&A of Dieter’s newest movie. You chose to sit this gigantic blockbuster event out, but it doesn’t mean you can’t support him from the comfort of this five star hotel room.

Your heart skips when the camera pans to Dieter getting out of the car. There he is, your celluloid husband, clad in all black, wearing the holey t shirt he just fucked you in before leaving you this afternoon.

The barriered crowd goes wild when they spot him. He smiles that megawatt smile, his signature dimples pressing into his golden skin. He’s so fucking beautiful.

You’re so proud of Dieter, you can hardly believe your husband is the star of the biggest summer film, standing tall and handsome with flash bulbs sparking across his face. You’re enamored by him, even when he’s a tiny square being live-streamed through your phone.

He joins his co-stars for a quick interview, his famous charm and humor is on full display, the crowd, host and co stars all laugh at his jokes. He truly is the golden boy of the red carpet.

You wonder if anybody else notices how he reaches for the hand of Greta, the actress who plays his wife in the film, when he realizes she’s nervous, much the same way he grabs your hand when you get anxious, being dragged to Hollywood parties and random awards shows. He’s always so thoughtful.

The interviewer asks Greta what it was like to act along with Dieter and play his wife. She laughs and blushes, Dieter’s arm rubs up and down her back, cuddling her closer to his body as she explains how wonderful of a man he is, how she felt very lucky to star in a movie with him.

She’s absolutely stunning in her form fitting gold dress, you’re watching all of this for your husband and yet Greta keeps stealing your attention, lean, elegant, and absolutely radiant. You think to yourself how badly you want to fuck her.

Dieter and the crew wave to the crowd and cameras thanking everybody for attending the red carpet, you smile at the sight of his gold wedding band before shutting the app down and opening the room service menu. It’ll be two hours until you hear from him after the movie. Time for an episode of Dateline.

___

You’re in a post grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup coma, the cops have just solved the triple homicide in the sleepy New England town when your phone beeps with the Dieter ding.

Movie’s out. have to deal with after party then back to u. Miss u like crazy xoxoix !! Hi! Have fun! Did u watch the red carpet? I did. You looked fucking hot. Ya? I actually liked the shirt, it made me think of this afternoon… Me too baby Greta looked amazing, I was almost watching her more than you. Don’t you think she looked good? Of course I did I think she likes you… saw a video on Twitter that makes me really see the goddamn chemistry you wouldn’t shut up about during filming. She said i smelled good tonight I told her ur the one to thank She can smell me anytime she wants. 😮 baby... Tell me D, do you miss kissing her now that filming is over? I know how you look at her, I’ve seen the previews and press appearances. Go ahead and tell me, baby. dunno about miss, but i did like kissing her What if I were to ask you to kiss her tonight… 😮 Oh? And film it for me. ohhhhhhhhh I can do that for you baby Go find her then. I’ll be waiting God baby I’m glad i married you Xoxo

The giddiness that courses through your body makes a big smile bloom across your face. You sit back against the soft cushions and imagine Dieter tucking his phone in his pocket and setting forth on his mission. Waiting for it is so hot.

___

The Dieter ding buzzes. You’ve never been this excited to pick your phone up.

Dieter Bravo Attachment: 1 Movie

Your hands are practically shaking when you touch the little bubble on your phone. There, in the freeze frame stands your husband and his beautiful co-star.

You hit play.

Greta smiles at the camera before she purrs out, “Hi, Dieter says this is for you.”

She’s so beautiful in the dim video, her silver eyeshadow glistens under the flash, her big blue eyes already look blown out with lust; you wish you were the one who was about to kiss her plush lips. If she’s willing to do this for him, you don’t doubt for a second how attracted she is to your husband. Dieter winks at the camera before turning to Greta, clutching his hand on her cheek and sealing his lips against hers. It’s… so fucking hot. You can hear the distant sound of laughter and conversation of the party goers just below the sounds of Dieter and Greta’s tongues tangling. You wish you could taste both of them, now you’re really regretting staying back. The camera grows more unsteady the deeper the kiss grows. He sucks her bottom lip, you can almost feel the slight tinge of pain, god you want to feel it. Dieter pulls away, and turns Greta’s face towards the camera.

“You want to kiss my wife, Starlet?”

“I do,” she answers.

Dieter lets out a low chuckle before winking at the camera and ending the recording.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You’re already soaked from that short video.

Dieter has been so good during his sober journey, being honest and forthright when he's tempted, allowing the help of counselors and his Narcotics Anonymous sponsor. You've stood by his side as he's made huge strides to conquer his addictions. His old vices are now replaced by a new vice... sex. You're so proud of him, you want to reward him... and yourself.

Jesus Christ D. U like? Can’t stop thinking about u watching that video baby I like it… a lot. Fuck! Greta wants to kiss me? Think she wants u more than she wants me... I’d like to meet her. I’d like you to meet her too baby Is she busy after the party? Seems like tonight would be a good night for us to meet. Maybe she wants to come back to our room? If that’s what u want baby It’s what I want D. Okay baby

___

The click of the keycard entering the lock alerts you to Dieter and Greta’s arrival. You rise from the couch, smoothing out the wrinkles of your simple blue dress.

“Hi baby,” Dieter smiles, his eyes twinkling with adoration.

Greta follows him in, she’s even more beautiful in real life.

“Hi,” Greta smiles, her eyes spark with lust as she looks you up and down. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, “you too.”

Dieter’s head bobbles back and forth, caught up in the chemistry that sparks between his wife and his co-star.

There is so much anxiety coursing through you but the sheer desire for Dieter and Greta easily obscures any second thoughts.

He walks over to you, planting a searing kiss on your lips and wraps you in his strong arms.

“I missed you baby,” he says before kissing you. He pulls away, his soft, brown eyes roam your face. “Are you sure about this?”

You glance at Greta, focusing on her soft pink lips. “Extremely.”

“Excellent. Now, come here, let me show you off to her,” he grabs your hand and leads you to the middle of the room. “Want to show you my girl, starlet, go ahead and take a seat.”

Greta sits on the sofa, settling in her dazzling golden dress. You feel underdressed compared to her beautiful designer clothing and Dieter’s close to perfect look. No paparazzi in their right mind would want pictures of you in your pale blue dress, but the way Greta’s eyes roam your body and the way Dieter runs his hands up your back and grabs your ass, you feel like you just won an Oscar.

“See her tits?” Dieter wraps his arms around your torso, bringing his hands up to cup your breasts in his hands cupping around the silk of your dress. “They feel so fucking good in my hands, they’re so soft and bounce in my face so perfectly when she rides me. You want to see her tits starlet?”

Greta nods.

He slips the straps of your dress down your arms exposing your breasts to the cool hotel air and Greta’s eyes.

He pulls you against his body, grinding his crotch against you moving his hands back up to cup the weight of your breasts.

Greta watches, blue eyes wide as Dieter pinches and pulls at the peaks of your nipples.

“Watch this starlet,” he lifts his hand and softly smacks one of your breasts, causing a moan to leave your lips, your body falls even harder against his body. “She fucking loves when I do this.”

His hands snake down your torso, pushing your dress to fall down and pool at your feet leaving you bare naked for Greta to see.

Her tongue darts out to lick her lips, as her eyes travel over your naked form.

“Isn’t she magnificent, starlet?”

She arches an eyebrow. “Quite.”

Dieter walks forward, pushing you towards the couch Greta sits on, still looking just like she walked off the red carpet, perfectly put together like a goddess.

He stops at the marble coffee table, grabbing your leg and lifting it to perch on the top.

His wide hand runs up your leg and pets your thigh.

“You like my wife?” his voice is low and rumbly against you. There's a bit of possessiveness to it.

“I do, she’s gorgeous.”

“She is. Isn’t she?” he says with pride.

His hand moves closer to your pussy, now dripping for him and your guest. “See, starlet, this is my pussy,” your body tenses as he dips a finger through your folds, “and she’s fucking soaked for me.” He brings his finger dripping with your wet to his lips and licks it, a moan leaves his lips when he tastes you. “Come here and taste her.”

Greta rises from the couch, walking over to stand next to Dieter. She's even more exquisite up close.

His hand returns to your pussy, petting and rubbing making you weak in the knees.

“She’s so fucking wet for us, starlet.”

You whimper at the sensation of the hard stone of his ring rubbing against your clit. He pulls his hand away, admiring the way your wetness stretches across his fingers.

His fingers are placed against Greta’s lips. She opens her mouth wide, accepting his drenched digits, Dieter groans as she licks your juices off of his skin.

Just four hours ago, they were watching the premiere of their movie together while you watched a rerun of Dateline… now the three of you are locked in the beginning of a ménage à trois. Isn’t it funny how Hollywood works?

Conversation flows easily between the three of you. You love the way Greta teases Dieter, how she laughs at your jokes. She fits perfectly in to your married comfortability.

You’re naked atop Dieter's lap, Greta sits next to you, her hand rests on your thigh lightly petting it almost as an ever present reminder of what the three of you are here to do. You can’t believe how comfortable you are in this situation.

“Shall we take this to the bed?” Greta offers as you and her share a glass of champagne. Dieter happily sips his Topo Chico, his eyes lit with mirth watching his wife and friend enjoy each other’s company.

“I’d like that,” you say, turning to her and downing the rest of the glass of bubbly champagne.

“Great,” she smiles, standing up and slinking off her gold dress before laying on the bed and taking her panties off.

“She is… tenacious, isn’t she?” you muse as Dieter hugs you close and kisses your shoulder.

“She is,” he chuckles.

“You ready?” he asks.

“I’m ready,” you get up from Dieter’s lap, he rises behind you before turning you to face him.

He holds your face in his hands, his brown eyes rounded with softness, an adoring grin on his face. “You really want to do this baby?”

You bark a laugh out. “Honey, she’s already naked in bed, of course I do.”

His eyes darken, his grin replaced with a searing smolder, the same smolder that drives millions of women and men crazy, “I love you.”

“I love you too, now let me eat her cunt while you watch.”

“Jesus, alright baby,” he grabs your hand, leading you to bed before removing his shirt and pants. He takes a seat on the chair by the window to observe.

Greta lays in front of you, splayed out amongst the white sheets, her skin looks so creamy and delectable. You climb over her, smelling the sweet scent of her perfume. She giggles when you knock your nose against hers, a giddy smile is shared between the two of you before locking lips. Kissing her is different from kissing Dieter, gentler, sweeter, softer. Her tongue is much smaller, her whimpers and breaths pitch higher. You lay your body against hers, fuck, she’s just as soft as you thought. Velvety smooth and sweet. Your breasts sit against hers, your soft and her soft resting against each other. Your pussy and hers radiate heat against one another when you angle your hips against hers. You kiss a line down to her neck, nipping and sucking at her skin… she faintly tastes of sugary coconut. You look over at Dieter while kissing, he winks before you stick your tongue out and lick one of her nipples. Delicious.

God, her tits are perfect. Perky, a little pointy, pink nipples the same exact shade of cherry blossoms, your favorite flowers. Your tongue runs across the small valley between her breasts, sliding across each nipple and back. Sucking hard against each, latching your mouth around it before letting it go with a pop. She’s writhing on the bed from your mouth and hands, your self esteem rockets higher as she loses herself under your touch.

Her smooth body runs along yours, her delicate hands grab at your skin, clawing and pressing the harder you suck her skin.

You kiss a trail down her tight stomach, licking grabbing her long legs and spreading them wide to reveal her perfect, milky skin surrounding her pussy. She’s drenched, absolutely dripping with her arousal, you lick up the spilled wetness on the bed sheets before licking up to her pussy. Her bright blue eyes focus on your mouth as you envelop her cunt with it. Buttery smooth and soaked, you taste the familiar hint of coconut in her wetness. Perfect.

Your tongue dashes against her clit, flattening and swirling, treating her like the glamorous Hollywood star she is by worshiping her beautiful body and cunt. Your tongue licks a line down her sweetness before darting into her sweet hole.

You feel the bed dip behind you, your heart explodes with the thrill of feeling Dieter’s broad body behind you, a large hand digs between your thighs, dipping two thick fingers into your cunt, opening you up for him. His thumb swishes across your clit, your tongue attempts to duplicate his movements against Greta’s pussy. He angles his digits perfectly, hitting that perfect sensitive spot inside of you, causing you to dive even further against Greta’s heat, trying to take every single drop of sweet nectar from her body. You cum all over Dieter’s hands, moaning and whimpering against Greta’s skin.

Greta clenches around you, her hips grind against your mouth as you lick an orgasm out of her. Your arms reach up to grab her tits and knead them in your hands.

“That’s my baby,” Dieter coos, pulling his hand from your pussy and slapping it against your ass, causing a loud moan to rumble against Greta's cunt.

He pulls your hips up, your bottom meets the rigid skin of his cock. He taps his thick member against your ass before spreading your legs, you bring two fingers to Greta’s leaking hole waiting for Dieter to take you so you can take her. His thick cock enters you, stretching you with that sweet sting you love to feel. Your fingers mirror his actions, slow pumps in and out of Greta, scissoring to stretch her like Dieter stretches you matching the rhythm of his movements.

His hand splays across your back, petting your spine as he starts slowly, languidly fucking you. The three of you dance to a sensual song, grunts and moan chorusing across the sound of your fingers and Dieter’s cock. It’s beautiful.

You happily suffocate against her pussy, licking through her folds and fucking her with your fingers while Dieter fills your slippery cunt. Your moans are muffled by her skin, Dieter’s grunts echo his thrusts.

Your body is slick with sweat, face soaked in Greta’s arousal, your cunt clenches around your husband's cock, your tongue sits steady against Greta's pussy as Dieter fucks an orgasm out of you. He holds your shaking hips close as he tells you how good you're taking him, how much he loves watching you eat Greta's pussy.

“This is all–nyugh–for you baby,” he groans, as he pulls out, Greta catches you in her arms as your body falls without his support. “Roll over, roll over baby,” he hoarsely gasps as he strokes his cock. You move to lay on your back, Dieter pulls your legs wide open right before he paints your pussy with his thick white ropes.

Dieter rises off the bed on shaky legs, before flopping his naked body into the chair. “Go on starlet, clean my girl up.”

She moves quickly, like she can’t wait to taste the two of you, settling between your thighs, lifting your legs over her delicate shoulders, spreading you wide open for her mouth. Greta’s breathy moan against your cunt makes your back arch while her tongue cleans your cunt covered in Dieter’s seed. She dips a finger into your entrance, swirling it around your sensitive walls, her one finger is nothing compared to your husband’s thick cock but god, does her gentle touch drive you wild. Her mouth seals over your clit, kissing and sucking your swollen bundle of nerves. Her head rises and lowers with each pump of your hips into the air, dancing right along with you as your pussy rises to another crescendo of an orgasm. You turn your head to look at Dieter, naked with his legs spread wide, sitting like a king on a throne. He mouths “I love you,” out of the lips you crave to kiss as your body tightens and releases with another climax.

Greta brings her lips to yours, licking into your mouth leaving the intoxicating swirl of flavors of your wetness and Dieter’s cum against your tongue. She breathily chuckles at your long exhale before laying next to you, pushing her soft curves against you and hooking her leg over yours.

Dieter walks over, naked and cocky, your superstar husband is in full effect even in the aftershock of your threesome. He kisses Greta’s cheek and whispers “thanks starlet” before leaning over, kissing your lips and cupping your cheek. “I love you baby,” he says, big brown eyes staring into yours. You return his smile before he turns towards the minibar and grabs a Kit Kat. Greta cuddles in closer to you on the bed, sometimes it’s good to have a movie star husband.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo smut #pedro pascal #the bubble #dieter bravo x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction

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sleepingdeath-light · 11 months ago

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sally starlet + segmented smut alphabet ; 18+

requested by ; anonymous (part of an event)

letters used ; j / m / s

masterlist(s) ; sfw / nsfw

minors and ageless blogs do not interact

J — Jack Off

anything about masturbation

Sally isn’t someone who masturbates unless she’s completely out of options: you’re completely unavailable, none of the neighbours are around to distract her, she’s not working on anything that she can refocus her attention on, and there’s nothing else for her to do instead. And even then it’s a very quiet and mortifying ordeal, done with the curtains drawn completely shut, her blankets pulled completely over her body, and one of her hands clamped tightly over her mouth just to make sure that nobody has any chance of knowing what she’s doing — it’s all so very unlike her usual self, but between her past as a star with a barely physical form and the social environment she walked into its only natural that she’d be a bit skittish and ashamed about self pleasure.

M — Motivation

what turns them on?

Roleplay! Sally is a woman of the theatre through and through, and despite her typical confidence it’s much easier for her to get into the mood and feel comfortable with having sex if she’s playing a character. Be that the damsel in distress or the brave knight tasked with rescuing her, your girl is happy to play any part you ask of her and will always follow up your foreplay with the type of mind blowing sex that only a former celestial body could provide.

S — Stamina

how long can they last?

Her sexual stamina isn’t actually too far out of the ordinary and she tends to last somewhere between one and two rounds. At a push, and with a break in between, she might be able to push through for a third round, but her comfortable range is still one to two.

#sleepingdeath #playfellowxxx #minors dni #minors will be blocked #ageless blogs dni #ageless blogs will be blocked #welcome home smut #welcome home x reader #sally starlet smut #sally starlet x reader #smut #smut alphabet #gender neutral reader

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ladydiaries · 1 year ago

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can i request valentino x bimbo reader🤭🤭 do whatever you want with that thank you

Bimbo! Doll .ᐟ—જ⁀➴ ˚ ༘

CW; minors do not interact, 18+ content, unprotected sex, degradation, praise, sub reader, pet play, gun play, oral fixation, overstimulation, choking, size difference, Valentino is his own warning. NSFW under the cut!

SUMMARY; Valentino spoiling and reprimanding his sweet bimbo reader

HCS + RAMBLES

AUTHORS NOTE; congrats on being my first request ily anon *🫶 no specified gender was made so I will make this as GN! as possible.

Valentino is far from a soft lover, he's nasty and mean but he cannot help but spoil his favourite star, you. Such a good starlet for him, taking men and women like it's nothing. He prizes you for your naivety, innocence. Which is a gem in a disgusting place such as hell. Wishing nothing but to corrupt your brain and every orifice on your plush body.

Valentino who gives you, and only you, water and snacks after sets. Valentino who buys you every little gem and pricey shelf you desire. Valentino who argues with employees when a store claims they don't have something in your “size”.

And the best part is that you're too dumb to know that it's all part of a bigger puzzle. Spoiling you rotten to encourage your obedience, codependency. You don't even realise he's the one feeding you, brushing your teeth in the mornings and detangling your hair for his and only his benefit. Perhaps ignorance is bliss.

Blissful as he drags you by your love handles down onto his cock. Putting his cigarette out on your lower back, set of arms keeping your hips where he wants them. Listening to the sweet sound of initial yelp and your pained whimpers before hunching over you. Sharp teeth against your earlobe as he whispers nasty things, accent running thick with desire. Running his mouth with all sorts of sweet pet names.

“Fuck yourself back onto me, Conejito. Let me feel your passion, how much do you want me? Show me."

His tip dragging against your walls with sweet vigour. Breath shaky, antennae twitching, and wings, wings unfurling. Velvety wings. Focused on ruining you until you can't breathe, until you fail to make coherent sentences. The familiar red smoke lingering heavy in the air, making you dizzy.

Imagine sitting at his feet like a good mutt. You look so pretty under him, so small. Pink blinged collar (he decorated it himself) snugly around your neck. His long fingers pressed against the trigger of his signature gun, his most gorgeous gun, for you of course. Working the thick barrel into your leaking mouth. Choking and sputtering. Drooling like an animal, almost as wet as your cunt. He tsks "Making a mess all over my carpet, puta de mierda, you're better then this." he purrs. Tip of his heeled shoes nestling in between your thighs. (he will make you clean it up later)

Cannot end this without thinking of his pretty wings. I believe you'd be one of few people he would let into the embrace of them. Possessive. Letting you sit pretty on his lap once you're done working, wings embracing you as his chin sits neatly against your shoulder. Gaze stuck onto the other actors as he still had a long night ahead of him. Nothing serious as long as he had his angel by his side.

#thanks 4 this ww #ladysheadcanons #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x you #valentino smut #valentino hazbin hotel #valentino x reader #valentino #hazbin smut #smut:❗️

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wannab-urs · 5 months ago

Text

Pedro Pascal Character Fic Recs | Vol 42

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Howdy Folks,

guess who's back! I don't know if I'm back to doing these consistently, but I have a hell of a list for y'all. Tags and summaries provided by the author, commentary provided by yours truly.

Mindfuck - Dave one shot by @whatsnewalycat

He said he could rattle the bees from your buzzing honeycomb brain. All you had to do was trust him with this power. So you did. And you do. Your valiant beekeeper meets you at this hotel every other Tuesday night, except on holidays.

Hypnotism, hypnosis-kink, Imperfect Praxis of Hypnosis, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Praise Kink, Smut, unprotected piv, D/s dynamic, Dom Dave, Mindfuck

One of the weirdest things I've ever read, but also one of the best. I was super into this. Mindfucking is WILD.... I'd read more of this universe in a heartbeat

Bittersweet Love - Dieter one shot by @ozarkthedog

Dieter is in recovery from drug addiction, the disease that cost him you. This is his first premiere after getting clean and his first one without you.

angst but with a happy ending! mentions of drug use and alcohol but nothing graphic.

This is such a sweet fic? That might be a weird way to describe it. I just love Dieter getting his shit together and all the good coming his way because of it.

Starlet - Dieter one shot by @whocaresstillthelouvre

Your husband has a big movie premiere, sure he looks great, but his co-star looks even better.

PWP, threesome, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), lesbian fun, unprotected p in v sex, cum eating, addiction talk, sober Dieter, Kit Kats, I wrote this for the bi girls.

This fic is a dream, seriously. I want a hot movie star husband to bring pretty movie star women into my bed please and thank you.

Pas de Deux - Din series by @burntheedges

When Din Djarin – principal dancer at Concordia Ballet Company and generational talent in the classical style – suddenly left CBC and joined the Nevarro Ballet Theater mid-season, it shocked the ballet world. You never would have guessed that he would change your life, too.

modern AU, ballet AU, fluff, angst, flirting, dancing, lots of ballet terms (I’ll define things/link videos/etc. -- see below), misunderstandings, character study, romance, pet names (sweetheart, beautiful), lots of tension, later: smut, kissing, grinding, fingering, p-in-v sex, creampie, each chapter will have its own tags, Din lifts reader (see note below about reader)

This is one of the few modern Din AUs I've read, as I tend not to like them, but I can't recommend this enough. I was drawn in by the summary and hooked by the first chapter!

Never Let Me Go - Ezra one shot by @yopossum

Loving, reverent domestic smut with sweet, submissive Ezra.

SMUT; no plot that’s it just porn but with FEELINGS; sub!Ezra; established relationship; super duper in love; domestic fluff; comfort; gratuitous pet names; praise kink; body worship; body hair; grinding; breast and nipple play; teasing/edging if you squint; light bondage; riding; PIV; no condom (there’s come y’all); religious language and imagery as literary device; Ezra the human thesaurus; prose gettin purple; making grown men whine and cry; reader is not gendered, has breasts and a vulva/vagina, is described as having puffed nipples and dimpled thighs, can straddle Ezra, but no coloring, size, appearance, age, or ability is otherwise noted; Ezra is an amputee and healed and we love it (no gore or trauma or background re: his arm); but I did write this because I was watching Prospect without actually watching and was inspired by *~*those sounds*~* out of context tho; Beatrice is not reader’s name, just a nerdy Dante reference; I stole this title from Florence Welch; old person on tumblr; is this spacing wack?; not a beta in sight; 18+ only no minors

SUBMISSIVE EZRA!!! I loved this. Such a gorgeous fic.

Stick Buddies - Frankie series by @auteurdelabre

You and Frankie find yourselves in a complicated situation when invited to Benny's wedding for a week in Mexico. Despite your strained friendship, you both pretend to be a couple to save Frankie embarrassment when seeing his recently engaged ex wife. However as you navigate through this charade, old feelings and unresolved issues resurface.

friends to enemies, angst, fake relationship, bickering, there's only one bed, destination weddings, enemies to lovers, jealousy, idiots in love, revealed secrets, mutual pining, smut, HEA, so many fucking tropes.

friends to enemies to lovers??? Sign me the fuck up.

Where You Left Me - Frankie one shot by @chaotic-mystery

You meet Frankie for a date and reminisce about your relationship.

MAJOR character death. No movie AU but fuck Tom. This is overall angst heavy and please take care of yourself. Grief & loss, sadness, memories, I think that’s it? It’s just overall a bittersweet and tragically lovesick story. There’s no physical descriptions of reader other than wearing a black dress at one point and having hair that tickles Frankie’s nose. no y/n used

This shit made me cry in the best way. Please read this.

One of Your Girls - Frankie one shot by @pedropeach

unpacking some of frankie's old things leads to a revelation about his past. (OR to put it simply: frankie morales x triple frontier boys circle jerk)

Circle Jerk, Sub!Frankie, Bukkake, Facials, Cumplay, Cum Swallowing, frankie is literally a cum dumpster (and loves it), Praise Kink, Pet Names, Dirty Talk, oral (m receiving), Deepthroating, Cock Worship, Use of restraints, Sexy Photographs, Sharing, brief mentions of anal sex (m/m), for story purposes you are frankie's current gf, frankie x all the guys individually, this includes tom but he's not part of the circle jerk, sry tom

Really was not expecting this to be as tender and soft and sweet as it is considering it's one of the more filthy things I've ever read. Absolutely love it.

I'll Carry You - Javi P series by @almostfoxglove

You reunite with your childhood best friend when he arrives home from Colombia. Javier's sudden return to your life exhumes buried heartbreak, but he longs to set things right.

Eventual smut. Reference to canon-typical violence, injury, and the death of a parent. Plenty of alcohol consumption, yearning, and angst. YEARNING!!!

The yearning is exquisite. The fic is exquisite. I'm in love with this fic

Remorse for Remedy - Joel series by @pedgito

Alone, the Miller's brothers seem like your only hope. The outbreak is still fresh, weeks after the fall and all that matters is survival and the unlikely comfort that comes along with a man who wants nothing to do with you.

early outbreak, canon typical violence, morally grey!joel, smut (warnings given with each chapters), exploration of kinks, enemies to lovers, age gap (early 20s/mid 30s), unhealthy coping mechanisms, detailed warning with each chapter

I haven't ever read a series about Joel immediately post outbreak, which is wild. It's always raider!joel or qz!joel or jackson!joel. I love this new perspective and I'm so excited to read more.

Biology - Joel one shot by @endlessthxxghts

Joel hurt his back at work, so you've been helping him around the house until he heals.

able-bodied, female sex anatomy, and inherently fem!reader. No description of reader, everything is neutral (ex. “your bottoms,” “the curve of you” — nothing is specific in the way “you” are described). Age gap (reader early 20s, Joel in 50s). EXPLICIT MATERIAL PRESENT. HEED THE WARNINGS. WEIRD boundaries are crossed…you're not blood-related to Joel, but you were raised like you were. You call him “uncle.” Pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, etc.). Pussy pronouns (she). Innocent touches until it isn't. Sexual tension galore. Slight dub-con. Icky Joel. Icky reader. Pussy grinding. Dirty talk. Slight degradation (“bitch” is used only once). Multiple orgasms. P in V unprotected. Reader is on top. Lots of teasing about the nature of yours and Joel’s relationship.

Well slap me silly and call me an uncle fucker because this fic was amazing. (they're not really related don't. look. at. ME.)

The Savage and the Sanctuary - Joel series by @justagalwhowrites

After the death of his daughter, Joel Miller fell apart. But when searching for answers at the bottom of a bottle and within his own rage doesn't fix it, he resigns himself to working for his brother in private security. It's a job that starts him down the path to stability and a semblance of a life, even if it's not one he particularly wants. At least it does until you show up. The biggest movie star in the world with your newly adopted niece in tow, you throw everything about Joel's life into flux. Is he capable of letting himself feel something again while protecting the only things left in the world that matter?

Protective Joel, Ellie & Joel Bonding, Joel is Bad at Feelings, POV Joel, Joel Needs a Hug, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn

So pumped for a new Kit fic. Super into bodyguard Joel. The angst right out the gate is so beautifully painful, I just know I'm gonna cry once a chapter at least. (i've only read one chapter, so I have some catching up to do!)

Professor's Pet - Joel one shot by @chaotic-mystery

Professor Miller wants you to teach the class tomorrow morning & you need help being less nervous. What if he’s the reason you’re nervous, though?

Age gap but not specified, power imbalance (professor x TA, reader stutters when nervous, academic weapon, teasing, fingering, one (1) pair of panties ripped to shreds, oral (f receiving), spitting, pussy slaps, praise kink, name calling (good girl, sweetheart, baby, smart girl), dirty talk, talking you through it, spanking, condescending a little bit, cum eating, face riding, nasty freaky kisses to share your cum, no use of y/n

I cannot begin to explain how hot him helping her practice is. And then the smut.... I need a shower

Call It What It Is - Joel one shot by @joelsgreys

A disagreement over patrol duty leads to declarations that have been long overdue.

JACKSON ERA JOEL. established relationship. HEFTY AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and joel is 56). ellie and joel are fine bc i said so and they deserve nothing less. reader handles a rifle, joel’s a little too overprotective and almost seems controlling, but i promise he is not. well, maybe just a smidge. arguing, admission of feelings, joel miller says i love you (yes this is ooc, no i do not care bc i need this old man to tell me he loves me). angst, fluff. quite a bit of side character interaction before we get to joel and reader in the second half. the only physical description of reader is that she is shorter than joel.

We love overprotective Joel in this house

The Guard Dog - Pero Tovar one shot by @avastrasposts

Sent to your uncle's bleak castle in the north of England, you expect only a dreary existence until you meet his groundskeeper, a scarred, frightening Spaniard. But love in the Victorian era is not easy and life doesn't follow straight paths.

this is mainly all fluff with a bit of angst. Some of that casual racism and predjudice of the period rears its ugly head though. I've tried to keep the reader as blank as possible, but it's Victorian England and she's a lady so I have to presume she doesn't speak Spanish and has fair skin. No use of y/n.

This was so beautiful. I love the setting, I love the characterization, I love the story

Bloody Kisses - Tim Rockford/Dio series by @perotovar

shane has been in denial about himself for a while. newly single and with the help of one of his favorite singers, he opens his eyes to a new venture he could possibly take: the cop he sees on a semi-regular basis, detective tim rockford.

takes place in the early 00s, age gap (shane is 23, tim is 40), internalized homophobia, hurtful names (fairy boy, faggot, queer as a slur, etc), a gay porn magazine, lots of references to peter steele of type o negative (and his playgirl issue), male masturbation, acab, angst, protected p in a, fingering, excessive amounts of lube

I started reading this a while ago, but I never added it to the spreadsheet. I'm in love with how soft Tim is with Dio UgH

In the shadows of others, we grow - Tim Rockford/Dave York series by @sin-djarin

What happens when you put two different areas of law enforcement in the same room a few times a year to atone for their 'sins'? You find common ground and figure it out. Together.

M/M, Established D/s dynamics, each chapter contains individual warnings.

This pairing?? Obsessed. The feelings?!?!? Give me 14 more fics in this universe PLEASE

An End to Drought - Javi P one shot by @almostfoxglove

The future of your family's homestead hangs in the balance as Javier Peña comes home in the middle of a drought.

Javier Peña Smut, Soft Javier Peña, Sweet Javier Peña, Javier Peña Has a Big Dick, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Fluff, Neighbors,Javier might be a god? who knows!, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Penis In Vagina Sex, Oral Sex, Creampie, Sex, Vaginal Sex, unprotected piv, Freyr, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Post Season 3

I'm obsessed with the way the challenge was interpreted. Is Javi a god? We don't know... but he sure fucks like one.

Some shit I wrote:

Make it Hurt - Logan Howlett x f!mutant!reader - sparring + pain kink

Morning Ride - Logan Howlett x f!reader - soft morning sex

You're So Dark - Dave York x f!reader - prof!Dave x student!Reader

#fic recs #the spreadsheet digest #fanfiction recommendations #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction

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two-white-butterflies · 2 years ago

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smart sexy lacy | c55 and c16

Description: Three years after that horrible breakup with Charles Leclerc; now you're dating his teammate. What happens when certain deals are levied upon you? Will you follow through or go back to what you're used to?

Author's Note: Yes, I'm going through something. SEMI INSPIRED BY THAT ONE TIKTOK WITH THE GIRL THAT LOOKED LIKE YOUNG SALMA HAYEK. A little angsty and sad and toxic. But that's life and this happens in real life.

yourusername: Aren't you the greatest thing to ever exist? #YOURNAME in Vogue AUS' new cover. ✨

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carlossainz55: Beautiful ❤️ - yourusername: Handsome ❤️

oliviarodrigo: dazzling starlet... 😇

bellaciao9: It's so weird seeing her be romantic wit Carlos

carlossainz55: She blesses Mallorca. ❤️🇪🇸

liked by yourusername, Charles_Leclerc and 1,293,192 others

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lovingyou71: HOW CARLOS AND CHARLES DATED THIS BADDIE?? I'D NEVER KNOW

livonce0: is it just me or do they look good together?

holypolly: LOVE FROM BRAZIL 🇧🇷

yourusername: when your boyfriend posts an ugly picture of u so u have to remind everyone that u look good. 💥😮

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carlossainz55: It's called 'gatekeeping' 🤣

carlosandynfanbase: MOMMY...MOMMY...SORRY?

ynforever: the way that there's 4m likes 💀

A small exhale exited your mouth - oh, you always swore that you were over him, but seeing him walk past you. He's just standing there, breathing beside you - all the while your heart heaves in pain. You wonder if he still wears the same perfume - if he still wears the same lucky pants during race day. Or has he changed?

"Nice weather today," he smiled, gently settling down beside Carlos. You promised that you were over him - but now that he was sitting across from you - fuck, was it hard.

How could ever get over him? How could you ever get over a man who brought two umbrellas just to keep you dry? "It'll be easier to race, right?" you placed a hand on Carlos' chin in an effort to rid that man from your periphery. "Depends on how Max behaves," Carlos chuckles while pressing a kiss to your lips.

"Oh, a little decorum for the minors here." Charles chuckled while pointing at Oscar. "Oscar, this is what true love looks like." your eyes narrowed teasingly at the younger man and he rolled his eyes. Yep, this was true love. "Congrats on the engagement, by the way!" Lando congratulates while raising his champagne glass.

You exchange a side-glance with Charles. He wasn't smiling - and that somehow made you feel better.

yourusername: pinon and carlito ✨ 2 dawgs, 1 frame.

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carlossainz55: ❤️

ynuniverse: I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE

bordoutr2: PINON IS SO BIGG OMG

"How much did you pay for your engagement ring?" a street-interviewer suddenly invades your privacy. Carlos gives you a soft glance and you nod, seeing that you had time and there wasn't anything wrong with a little interviewing. "I paid for less than what she's worth," he chuckled - not taking his eyes off you. "Well how much do you think she's worth?" the man asked and he shrugs.

"I'd say all of the jewels in the world - then multiply it by infinity." he laughed while muttering the last word. Carlos absolutely adored you. "He's just bluffing because of the cameras, do you really think that?" your eyebrows merged into each other - he's only said 'i love you' as much as there were fingers in your hands.

You weren't aware that his love was this deep.

"I haven't said it enough - but yeah." he played with the plastic bag on his right hand. To your surprise, the man suddenly turns in your direction. "Do you think that you're worth that much?" he placed the microphone a few inches away from your lips but Carlos interrupts him. "I think that I can answer this one," he glanced at you - and you silently nodded.

"She's worth so much more than that, and this engagement ring is not even a fraction of what I feel for her."

"But if you're spending this much money, what do you get in return?" the interviewer bitterly asked and Carlos couldn't help but laugh a little. He's had years of experience in media training. He could explain his side as eloquently as this man asked his question rudely. "What do I get in return?" Carlos repeated the question. "Yep."

"I get a partner that is loyal to me - a partner that would choose me everyday when there are thousands of men much better than me. I get the mother of my children and a woman that'll be beside me until I die - and this engagement ring is absolutely nothing compared to whatever precious gift she gives me everyday." he smiled at you.

Your eyes twinkled a little bit - you were falling in love with him for the second time. Carlos was even more deeper than what you initially thought - so much more sensible and polite. "Okay, but are you saying that everyone has to spend so much money just to have the bare minimum?" the man inquires and Carlos shakes his head.

"I'll be clear and say that what she gives me is beyond the bare minimum, and it really depends on how much a person makes." he answers and you nod. "It's all about the feelings that come with giving a present," you bite your lower lip and the man frowned. "How much do you earn?" he turned towards Carlos.

"Okay, thank you for interviewing us." he pulled you away - quickly fading into the packed New York crowd.

You weren't prepared to face him alone.

It was a stormy night - a few minutes before your spontaneous engagement dinner with Carlos and the Grid began. The other drivers were in the other room - belting their asses off to singing 'My Heart Will Go On' by Celine Dion while you prepared your signature drinks. You were the only person inside the kitchen - until Charles decided to make his way.

"So, are you really going to marry him?" he inquired in a nonchalant tone. A decade ago, you wouldn't even entertain the thought of dating Carlos Sainz - but now, all you wanted to do was marry him. "What's that supposed to mean?" you asked, eyebrows merging into each other. That tone implied something else.

He placed his hands on the counter, staring deep into your eyes. "Let's not do this, please." he pleaded, searching for something behind your face. A hidden longing. Wishful thinking, maybe?

"We always broke up then got back with each other. This is the nature of our relationship, please don't make the wrong decision by marrying someone that cannot handle you." he proposed and you couldn't help but be offended in behalf of your fiancee. "You cannot handle him - he's boring and simple. You are someone that's so fucking explosive. You need someone interesting." he begged.

"Boring? My relationship with Carlos is not exciting - I must admit. It started off in the most boring way - as acquaintances. And our love may be different from what we shared. It's not exciting, or explosive - but it's so fucking sure. I know that I'll choose him everyday and he'll do the same. Something that I cannot guarantee with anyone else." you breathed, lifting the tray off the table and making your way towards the karaoke room.

You'd always choose Carlos, because he was your true love.

yourusername: slaybells, boots dows, houston i'm deceased. 🎄

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carlossainz55: te amo y mas - yourusername: te amo tanto

#carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz social media au #f1 social media au

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shuadotcom · 2 years ago

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Curse The Stars | HJS (M)

🪩 Summary: Meeting someone at the disco to take home for the night is customary for you, especially in your line of work. But meeting this man on this night at this disco feels more like fate as Joshua becomes much more than just your routine one night stand.

🪩 Pairing: Salesman!Joshua x Starlet Afab!Reader

🪩 Genres + AUs: Smut, fluff, a little bitty bit of angst, strangers to lovers, fwb to lovers, 1970s Hollywood au, porn with a lil plot

🪩 Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI)

🪩 Words: 8.4k

🪩 Warnings: Profanity, mentions of alcohol/drinking, poorly written 70s themes and slang (I’m a 90s baby I did my best okay)

🪩 Smut Warnings: Dirty talk, oral (f & m receiving), face-fucking, praise, fingering, pussy slapping, spitting (it’s tame lol), marking, doggy, mating press, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstim, creampie, reader is called good girl once, breeding kink?, big dick!joshua as usual

🪩 Note: Here’s my fic for @svthub’s 70s;teen collab!

This fic was heavily inspired by Virgo’s Groove by Beyoncé. It’s my 2nd favorite song off of Renaissance and as soon as I heard it I knew I needed to write some horny little songfic. At the same time it came out I was rewatching some Home Run performances and Joshua in those stages drives me absolutely insaneeee and here we are 🤗 This was supposed to be much shorter but I got carried away and added a little more plot than intended oops.

Thank you to my amazing, sweet, lovely beta @horanghater. I promise I’ll stop asking you to beta for me last minute!!! 🫶🏽🫶🏽 And thank you to the talented and wonderful @playmetheclassics for always making the most gorgeous banners for me! 🥺 💛

“Hi there beautiful, can I trouble you for a dance?”

This isn’t the first time you’ve been approached - not tonight or any night when you find yourself out on the town. You’ve already had a handful of people propose a dance, but all of them were men that did nothing but stare at your tits or give off the finest of sleazebag energy.

This man though…this man is different.

His round eyes stay locked on yours, an unassuming, even sweet, smile plastered onto his lips that makes the corners quirk upwards. The smile reaches those brown eyes that bat at you and render you speechless for a moment.

He’s pristinely styled, with perfectly slicked back white-blond hair, and wearing fancy attire like everyone else is; this is a new disco, and only the people with money or connections are allowed in. A freshly pressed blue suit, a very fitting lavender turtleneck, and shiny chains that glisten under the bright lights overhead, all cling to his body in ways that make your eyes linger on him longer than you should.

When he notices you ogling him, his smile becomes more of a smirk, one full of charm, and on any other man, it might’ve been suspicious, but this man has an aura to him that doesn’t make you immediately put your guard up.

“Sure,” you finally say, putting your hand in his outstretched one. With a small wave to your friends who are all giggling behind you, you’re off to the dancefloor, the man’s much larger hand engulfing yours.

With “Last Dance” having just been released, it’s the only thing that’s been playing everywhere you go for the past few weekends and tonight is no different. It plays over the speakers while you and the handsome man dance together, your bodies seeming to know where the other is moving without even having to say anything. Any hesitation that you’d enjoy your time with him fades away as the song plays, both of you singing the lyrics along with Donna Summer as he spins you around.

Typically after the first dance, you’d prepare to have your partner offer to buy you a drink in the hopes of letting the liquor loosen you up, or they’d even skip straight to the part where they’d offer to find a hotel room nearby for you to be alone.

Once again, though, he is different.

This handsome stranger simply asks if you want to keep dancing and you do. Song after song, you stay on the dancefloor under the bright, multi-colored lights, laughing and singing with him until you’re both finally in need of a rest.

“I’m Joshua,” he says loudly when there’s a slight, brief lull in the music. “Joshua Hong.”

“Y/n Y/l/n.” He smiles that sweet smile again and repeats your name back to you.

“Such a gorgeous name, but I would expect nothing less from someone so gorgeous.” The line is cheesy and you’ve heard it too many times, yet somehow, Joshua still manages to make your skin hot.

“I bet you say that to everyone you dance with!”

“Only the ones I really like.” The mischievous quirk of his lips has you rolling your eyes, but you still think it’s cute.

That’s when you decide that you want to be the one to speed the night along this time.

“Wanna get out of here? My place isn’t that far from here.”

Joshua seems surprised, though only momentarily, at your bluntness, but he nods, taking your hand in his again and letting you guide him through the crowd, catching your friends’ attention with a wave on the way out and going out into the crisp fall night.

“How’d you get here?” he asks once you’re out of the doors.

“One of my friends’ boyfriends dropped us off.” He makes a noise of acknowledgement and leads you both to the busy parking lot full of people standing around and laughing, the good times spilling out from inside the bustling building.

Joshua approaches a sleek, teal convertible Cadillac. When you reach the passenger side, he holds the door open for you, gesturing you inside with a bow and flourish of his hand.

“Out of sight! I shoulda known you’d have a fancy car.” With a whistle, you slide in and he gently shuts the door behind you.

“And why is that?”

“Most actors your age do. I would know - I’m an actress. I’ve had many a fellow actor try and get me in his Caddy.”

Joshua gets in on his side, tilting his head in question. “You think I’m an actor?”

“You’re not?” He shakes his head. “Oh.”

“Why’d you assume that?” At being questioned you clam up, clearing your throat a few times.

“Well, you’re just, you know.”

“No, I don’t know.”

“Ugh, because you’re crazy handsome, okay?! You have a face that should be on film, but don’t go getting a big head about it!” You can tell he’s going to do exactly that, the corners of his mouth raising in an infuriatingly attractive way.

“Well thank you, beautiful. Good to know you find me ‘crazy handsome’.”

“Don’t start! Now I have to wonder what it is you actually do.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Are you a screenwriter? You seem like you have a lot going on upstairs.”

“Thank you, I think? But no way. I wouldn’t even know where to begin writing a movie.”

“Okay, then a singer?”

“I do enjoy music.” At your victorious look, Joshua shakes his head. “But nope, not a singer.”

“What about -”

“What about telling me how to get your place so we can leave the parking lot?”

“Oops.” You had been so wrapped up in marveling at the fresh leather and knowing a little more about your partner for the night that you nearly forgot you’re still surrounded by the nightlife in the parking lot.

The drive to your apartment is only about ten minutes away. Between telling Joshua where to turn, you sing along to the radio. Now that you’re not being inundated with booming music, you get a chance to hear Joshua’s singing voice and it only serves to leave you breathless.

His voice is so soft and sweet yet confident as he hits the notes effortlessly. Momentarily you falter, forgetting to warn him of the next turn simply because you’re too busy staring at him slack-jawed.

He has to call your name to bring your brain back from the Joshua-shaped hole it was slipping into just listening to him. You point out the final right turn to him, doing your best to ignore how much more handsome he is out of the bright disco lights with just the moonlight illuminating his immaculate features.

As soon as you step inside, he’s taking in your apartment, complementing your pad, your choice of furniture, and the paintings hanging on your walls. You, on the other hand, have only one thing on your mind.

When you approach Joshua, stopping him mid-sentence with your lips as he’s asking you a question about your record collection, he’s surprised, but only momentarily as he kisses you back, warm hands cupping your face.

Joshua fucks you stupid into your mattress that night. Making you cum over and over again with his dirty words and names and his big dick keeping you full and satisfied more than any other hookups from nights past.

When he finally lets you rest, body spent and listless, you all but pass out on his chest with him making no move to leave you alone for the night which is enough to have you dreaming about him when your tired eyes slip closed.

When you wake up the following day it’s to an empty bed and a note on your nightstand.

Sorry to leave you like this beautiful, but I’ve got work.

I’d love to dance with you again. Call me xo

Joshua

His phone number stares back at you at the end of his note and you mull over the idea of calling him before putting the note in your nightstand drawer instead. You can’t say you’ve ever had a hookup earnestly leave their number, so you need to let the thought of calling him back ruminate.

By the next weekend, Joshua is still on your mind and you find out that you can say the same for him. You’re back at the disco with your friends, the one you met him at, and when you’re at the bar getting drinks, a familiar voice sounds in your ears.

“You know, I waited by the phone for you all week. I was pretty hurt when every time it rang you weren’t on the other line.”

You practically jump out of your skin when Joshua appears, a pout on his pretty lips as he hovers close to your side.

“I…I um,” you stammer. You hadn’t expected to see him again, especially not so soon.

“If you don’t wanna see me again-”

“I do!” The words tumble out, cutting him off and he snickers at your eagerness. “I mean, I do wanna see you again. Truth be told, I’ve never had someone leave me their number and honestly want me to call them. It’s usually just for show.” Anytime a number was scrawled on your arm or a business card was left and you called the day after, you were usually met with disinterest or a nonchalant promise to meet up again. They never kept their promises.

“I wouldn’t leave my number if I didn’t want you to use it. I swear.” Joshua’s smile is sincere. His eyes meet yours, pinning you in place, and soon neither of you are moving or speaking - only searching the other for the answer. Eyes are the window to the soul, and when you search Joshua’s all you can find is honesty and gentleness and you allow yourself to believe it.

“Okay. I’ll call you later this week?”

“I hope you do, but do I have to wait that long to spend time with you or do you wanna get under that disco ball with me?”

The idea to buy a drink is forgotten when you take Joshua’s hand and get lost in him and the music all over again.

That night ends up the same as before with you in his car being driven to your apartment.

Tonight, though, your destination is your couch, talking to one another, drinks in hand to keep the mood comfortable. Joshua is an incredible listener, nodding along in a way that you know he’s truly taking your words in, and asking you questions about yourself. He asks what got you into acting and where you’re from. He asks about your friends, your favorite restaurants, and your favorite things to do when you’re not working.

If you rack your brain, you can’t remember the last time you had a meaningful conversation with a partner. It’s…different, in a good way.

You find out that he was invited to the disco you met at by a friend of his named Taehyung, whose name you had heard in your circle before. Hollywood isn’t that big a place.

“So, I completely forgot to ask, what movies have you been in? Truth be told, I don't recognize your name or your face, and believe me, I'd remember if I saw such a stone-cold fox on the big screen.” His words are flirty, but he asks with genuine interest.

“Well, I’ve only been in a few films, but they’re probably not ones you’ve seen.”

“Try me.” After you name the five medium-sized, indie films you have a spot on the credits in, Joshua tries to nod along but you can tell how obvious it is that he hasn’t seen any of them.

“That’s okay. I wanna be the next Pam Grier or Cicely Tyson, but I’ve still got a long way to go.”

“Hey, I’m sure you will be. No - I know you will. I can tell you’re gonna be a real star.” There’s no hint of sarcasm behind what he says. He’s so sure of himself - of his words - and a warmth overtakes you, settling deep in your chest.

“Thank you.” Your words are bashful and he seems to notice, scooting across the mustard-colored fabric of your couch, closer to you.

“Anyway, what do you do other than make people all flustered just for fun?”

“I work with people,” Joshua answers with a chuckle, taking a sip of his drink.

“You work with people?”

“Yep, all types of people. Demanding people, nice people, some of the worst people I’ve ever met. You name it.”

“I work with people too, Joshua, and we already established you’re not an actor.”

“I could never be an actor. I don’t think I have it in me.”

“Okay, so what are you then?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you do?”

“For what?”

“For work, Joshua!” Throwing your hands in the air at his back and forth you nearly knock your drink over, but catch it in time, setting the glass on the oak coffee table, not noticing when you completely miss your coaster.

Joshua laughs, commenting on how cute you look frowning at him like this. “I’m a salesman.”

“Is that all? Jesus, stop being so weird and elusive. What do you sell? Houses? Some fancy, shiny cars or something?”

His expression stays neutral, suddenly transfixed by the ice swirling in his cup.

“Joshua?”

He heaves a sigh and finally meets your eyes.

“Washing machines,” his words come out in a rush. “Appliances in general, but I uh, I’ve sold the most washing machines in my department.” He takes a hearty sip of his drink, not meeting your stare.

“Okay? What’s the problem with that?”

“I - you don’t care?”

“Why would I?”

Joshua chuckles, running a hand through his neatly styled platinum hair. “Whenever I’m on this side of town, the second someone finds out I’m not an actor or model or whatever they assume I am, usually they lose interest in me. I know we’ve only seen each other twice but I really like spending time with you. I was worried you’d tell me to get out or something.”

The man whom you’ve only known for a week at best and who always looks so confident and self-assured is wringing his hands in front of you, an air of nervousness surrounding him.

“Lucky for you, I’m not as shallow as the other folks in Hollywood and I don’t care what you do. Besides, spending time with you is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.” Joshua seems to search your face for any hint of doubt behind your words, but he finds none.

He takes this as a cue to lean over and kiss you and you don’t think twice to kiss him back, melting into his lips and his hold.

Once again, Joshua fucks you within an inch of your life, staying over again, but this time he doesn’t have work until a little later so he sleeps in with you. After breakfast, he props you on your laminate counters and rocks your world, the remainder of your eggs and toast left cold on the side.

Joshua Hong is quickly proving to be someone you’re unable to let go of and you’re starting to believe that you don’t want to.

You and Joshua expertly fall into a groove. The next few months with him are the same; meeting at the disco on the weekends, sometimes he comes over during the week after you’ve been on the phone for a few hours, and he has sex with you on every surface of your apartment (even a few times in his Cadillac he had saved up for), then he sleeps over and goes home, only for you two to do it all over again. It becomes routine and is the very definition of your relationship with him for months.

Joshua is easy to be with and talk to and what you have works with him - you’re comfortable with him - more comfortable than you’ve ever been with a man.

That’s why it’s so easy to fall in love with him.

You don’t notice it at first and you’re not sure when your enjoyment for being around him morphed into a need to see him or when you went from butterflies fluttering in your stomach when he complimented you to full-on fawning over him internally, but it snuck up on you and hit you like a bus.

The first time it dawns on you is when you’re both cuddled up on your couch, watching a new episode of The Jeffersons. George Jefferson makes a joke that you both find particularly funny, causing you both to erupt in a fit of laughter. You peek over at Joshua and you feel your heart skip a beat. His eyes are in the shape of crescent moons (which you’re realizing you always notice and it always makes you melt) and his radiant smile that makes his whole face light up is as infectious as always, and you can’t help but beam even more. His laugh, always so airy and melodic, rings through your apartment and you think to yourself how much you wish you could hear it every day for the rest of forever.

The next time your feelings make themselves known is when he’s over and he offers to cook you dinner, which you eagerly accept.

It’s just a simple pasta dish, nothing too fancy, but seeing Joshua float around your kitchen in your frilly red apron does something to you. Every so often he’ll pause in singing along to the record playing in the living room to let you taste the sauce or the noodles, sometimes planting a kiss on your forehead or cheek before feeding you. Your heart (and your pussy) clenches at how attractive he looks and at the thought of seeing him like this more often. And by “more often”, your brain attempts to conjure up the question, “What if you lived together?”

You quickly shake the thought away, scolding yourself. You and Joshua have only been…whatever this is for a little over four months. The idea of living together is simply ridiculous.

It’s when four months roll into six, then eight, and nearly nine that you accept that your thoughts now belong to Joshua Hong and Joshua Hong only. When you start seeing him in the sunshine and away from the bright night lights, you feel the shift in your heart finalizing. In simple flared-bottom jeans and fitting shirts, Joshua is just as stunning and alluring as he is in his finest suits and quaffed hair. He can still make you laugh the same and you have the same meaningful conversations and he can still fuck you better than you’ve ever been fucked in your whole life. He’s the same slick guy that dances with you whenever you’re both feeling good and after nearly a year of knowing him, you finally accept that you’re in love with him.

The decision to tell him is one you have to make on your own.

“When are you going to stop messing around with the washing machine salesman?”

“Yeah, you need someone who will put you on the map! What about Hyungwon Chae? He’s been in a few flicks and he’s sooo handsome!”

“Yeah! Oh, or Jungkook Jeon?! His latest album is rumored to be wildly successful and I’ve heard it’ll be just as groovy as his last!”

The conversations with your friends around Joshua are always the same. It doesn’t matter how much detail you go into about the latest sweet thing he’s done for you or the latest concert he took you to or how good he is in bed (you keep that to yourself now since they never appreciate it), it’s always the same criticism. He’s not famous, he’s not rich - he’s just some “normal” guy to them and they can’t seem to fathom why on Earth you’re still seeing him.

They don’t seem to get that he’s so much more than a frequent hookup to you. At least - you want him to be. You can’t tell how he feels or if he wants more, but how will you ever know if you don’t tell him?

Your heart hammers against your chest at the thought of telling him and having him turn you down. The worst he can do is say he wants to keep your time together the same: doing things that make it feel like you’re more than what you are. Even worse is that he can stop seeing you altogether. Even the whisper of that makes your head hurt and your stomach tangle in unfixable knots.

But then there’s that possibility that Joshua digs you as much as you dig him, if not more. That possibility is what burrows deep into your brain and gives you the confidence you need to tell him.

Confidence or delusion - either way, it’s a chance you’ll take.

As an actress, you have to remind yourself that life is full of risks. You wouldn’t have any of the flicks on your resume that you do if you didn’t go to those auditions, put yourself out there, and give it your all. That’s what you want to do with Joshua - it’s what you need to do. You don’t need so-called friends to tell you that.

You have to tell him. You have to know if he’s also too nervous to admit his feelings or if you’re being foolish and pining for nothing. He’s quite possibly the love of your life and you need to tell him.

You don’t see Joshua for two weeks after you realize how you feel about him. Between his extra shifts and a rush of auditions from your manager, life seems to keep you apart for much longer than you’d like.

It’s when you finally have a night to yourself, away from the hustle and bustle that you get the time you’ve been yearning for.

You’re stepping out of the tub when you hear your phone ringing, the shrill sound breaching your quiet evening.

“I’m coming!” You call out to no one, slipping on your fluffy robe and slippers before shuffling through the apartment and to the kitchen. You make it just in time, picking up the pink phone dangling from the wall.

“Hello?” The tone you take on is slightly annoyed, hoping the caller knows you’re unhappy with the interruption.

“Hey, beautiful. Hope I’m not interrupting your night.” The smooth sound of Joshua’s voice melts you on the spot, expertly deflating your growing irritation as easily as popping a balloon. You’re embarrassed to admit just how easily Joshua Hong can get you to abandon anything else that isn’t him.

“Hey, Shua. No, I’m just at home tonight. I just got out of the tub.”

“Oh yeah? No big fancy parties with your fancy friends?”

“Nope. It’s just me, all alone with no plans for the rest of the night.” Your fingers tangle in the phone cord, wrapping the springy wire around your hand.

“I see. That sounds pretty boring if you ask me,” he hums, quickly picking up what you’re putting down. “No one to talk to or spend time with.”

“Hmm yeah, you’re right. Just me, myself, and I, all alone here,” your true intentions behind those words dripping from your flirty tone like honey. Not even five minutes ago that sounded like a perfect evening, but you already know why he’s calling, and spending the night with Joshua sounds like a much better option.

“Such a shame for you to be home alone all night. Maybe you can get someone to keep you company?”

“I think I’ll have to. I just don’t know what to do with myself otherwise. Plus, I’m feeling awful lonely.”

“Well we wouldn’t want you to be lonely now would we?” Joshua is smirking into the phone, and you can so clearly envision his grin with mischief written all over his pretty face. He wants you to initiate tonight and he’ll go back and forth as long as you’ll let him. Typically you have no problem keeping up with his snark, but the sound of his voice alone has you craving him like some sex-crazed lunatic.

Which you suppose you are when it comes to Joshua.

“Baby,” you breathe out, deciding you’re yearning for him far too much to play this game tonight. “Please come over?” You make sure to add a sprinkling of a whine at the end of your request, punctuating the entirety of your words with a tiny moan.

Joshua hums into the phone, pretending to think even though you both already know his answer.

“And how could I say no to you, hmm?” Joshua shuffles on the other end, his voice lowering an octave, but volume loud and clear to you. “I’m done work in a few. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be over to see you. Think you can wait up for me, darling?”

“Always, Shua,” the implication behind his words has you buzzing with excitement, your own voice lowering in a hushed tone even though you’re home alone.

“See you soon, beautiful.”

As soon as the phone hangs up you rush into action, shuffling back to your bathroom to completely dry off and moisturize your skin. With styled hair and a spritz of Joshua’s favorite perfume on you, you slip into your favorite silk nightie, the one that dusts your ankles with the slit in the side that goes up to the middle of your thigh. You don the matching robe and put on one of your favorite records, mixing two drinks after you do so.

Just as you’re about to sit down there’s a knock on your door. Your stomach does flips as you go to answer it. You hadn’t known when you wanted to tell Joshua that you want him as more than a friend he sleeps with every weekend, but this feels like the right time. Truth be told you don’t know when the right time even is, but the longer you wait the more it’ll gnaw at you and won’t leave you alone.

“Look at you,” Joshua wraps his arms around you as soon as you let him in, drawing you into his embrace. He places a kiss on your lips, lingering for a second before pulling away. You hate the way you want to chase his lips.

He follows you into the living room, sinking into the couch next to you and you hand him the drink you made.

“It’s just an old-fashioned, nothing fancy.”

“An old-fashioned is pretty fancy to me. You didn’t have to make me anything, darling.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

Your words earn you another kiss, this time on your cheek and you get a new round of tingles across your body.

Joshua tells you about his day as you sit and drink together and the whole thing feels so painfully domestic. And you want it to be, so badly. Not that you want to stop acting - it’s been your dream as long as you can remember so you would never abandon it, but you want Joshua to be a part of this now and a small piece of you worries that he won’t want to. Hollywood isn’t for everyone and he’s voiced time after time how he could never see himself in showbiz or the business in general. But that’s fine with you. The time you’ve spent with Joshua far surpasses anyone else in the business you’ve ever given your time to anyway.

“Y/n?”

“Huh?”

“I lost you for a moment there. I didn’t mean to bore you with my department store tales,” Joshua chuckles, sipping his drink.

“No, you could never bore me! I was just thinking is all.”

“About?”

“You,” your answer is automatic and it’s the truth.

“Oh yeah?” You nod in response as Joshua tilts his head at you, eyes sparkling as he looks you over. “C’mon. Let’s boogie.” He puts his glass down and grabs your hand instead, leading you to the middle of your living room.

Minnie Riperton serenades you as Joshua brings you closer, your bodies slotting together perfectly as you sway to the music. He hums along, his eyes closing as he dips you for show, both of you sharing a giggle as he brings you upright.

These are the moments that let you know that you’re in love with Joshua Hong. Everything he does, everything he says, it’s all with a tenderness and a care that you’ve never experienced, but it still makes you feel incredibly special.

The beginning chords of “Lovin' You” fill the room, as Joshua’s fingers dance across your waist.

“I love this song.” He begins humming along again, and this is the moment you’ve been waiting for, you think, sucking in a huge breath of air.

“And I love you,” the words fall from your mouth before you can think twice and you do your damndest to make yourself sound confident.

Joshua’s smile slips in an instant, his expression turning serious. “What?”

“I’m into you, Joshua. So much. I wanna be more than what we are.” He’s stopped swaying completely, neither of you moving. The only sound other than the song still playing is the sound of the blood rushing loudly through your ears.

“Y/n…”

Your heart is this close to shattering into a million pieces. “What, you don’t like me back?”

He must notice your forlorn expression, because he reaches for you again, gently touching your arm. “No, it’s not that I just…”

“What is it then? Huh?”

Joshua heaves out a sigh, eyes closing before fixing you with a steady gaze. “I just sell washing machines, Y/n. I don’t have some bright future like you. I’m not getting a star on the Walk of Fame. I’ll get promoted to a store manager at best. I’m not like you.”

You blink at him, taking in his words. “That’s what you’re worried about?! Joshua, I don’t fucking care! I wouldn’t care if you worked at a factory or were a carpenter. Hell, I wouldn’t care if you were unemployed - I like you for you. No, I love you. I love you for your heart and your sense of humor and how sweet you are to me and how you actually, genuinely care about me and my interests and my dreams. I love you for every little thing about you, Joshua. Not for how much money you make or any of that.”

He’s silent, letting you pour your words out, your thoughts flowing from your mouth like a broken faucet. “Y/n…” he finally starts. The fear that he’ll turn you away just because he feels like he’s not enough grips you. Your ears tune into the song still playing and you do the first thing you can think of to get him to stop. You sing.

“Lovin' you I see your soul come shinin' through…”

He looks confused, almost unsure if you’ve truly begun to sing to him. “Y/n -”

“And every time that we oooooh. I'm more in love with you.”

“I’m-”

“La la la la la la la…do do do do do-“

Joshua closes the small gap between you two, his lips colliding with yours, putting a stop to your serenade before you can hit Minnie Riperton’s falsetto. You don’t object in the slightest, kissing him back with all your might.

“Did it work?” You mumble against his lips as you separate. “Did I get through to you? Are you staying?”

“I mean, you definitely made me lose track of what I was thinking of saying to you. I think I also know why you told me that one time that you’ve never considered being a singer.”

His teasing earns him a push against his chest, barely even moving under your force. “I pour my heart out to you in song and this is what I get?!”

He dodges the remainder of your playful hits and grasps your hands in his, his thumbs caressing your skin.

“Seriously, Y/n. I’m just a guy who works at Sears. Are you sure you want to do this? Are you sure you want me like that?” You can’t help but lift a hand and smooth out the crinkles on his forehead with your thumb, attempting to push the frown off of his perfect face.

“The only other time I’ve been this sure about something I wanted was when I knew I wanted to be an actress.” His eyes shine as you speak, searching for sincerity. “Do you want me like that?”

“God, yes, I do. I have for months.”

Relief washes over you, putting you at ease. “Then you can have me. In any and every way.”

Joshua doesn’t hesitate in the slightest. Soft lips meld into yours, your body molding against his as he holds you around the waist. His hands roam your body, his touch leaving searing warmth in its wake. He kisses you, sufficiently taking your breath away as he does. Your fingers card through his platinum locks, mussing the strands, but he pays it no mind as his lips trail from yours, down to your jaw and your neck. Joshua is nothing short of an expert when it comes to your body and the places you like to be touched and kissed.

When he reaches the most sensitive spot on your neck, the spot that makes your toes curl, he sucks, sinking his teeth into the soft skin. A sharp cry slips out of your mouth as he nibbles on the skin, sucking hard enough that there’ll surely be a mark there in the morning.

His hands wrap around you, palming your ass through your nightie and bringing your body impossibly closer to him. His erection strains against his corduroy pants, hard and aching just for you. You heave a heavy sigh when he finally leaves the patch of skin he’s working at alone, only to move to another swatch of skin. Your knees almost give out and you have to grab onto his blazer to stay upright.

Joshua’s hands roam over the silk and he continues to spend extra time on your most sensitive of areas before he decides he’s satisfied with the marks he’s decorated you with. He moves to kiss you again and with each slide of his lips against yours feeling more frantic by the second, so does his grip until his fingers catch on the knot of your robe, tugging it gently.

“Can I…?” he questions into your mouth.

“You never have to ask.” His lips curl into a smile against yours as he makes quick work of removing your robe and tossing it aside. He gently bunches up the fabric of your nightgown and eases it up and over your head, letting the fabric fall to the floor.

Now with no barrier between his wandering hands and your bare skin, Joshua’s hands move across you with purpose, one hand cradling your lower back and pushing you into him again. The other beelines for one of your breasts, his large hand scooping one up to knead at. He kisses you with so much hunger you can feel the need rolling off of him in waves and his hands that paw at you serve to make you even wetter.

He bucks his hips shallowly against you and your need for him reaches an all-time high. When you pull away, Joshua looks forlorn at losing your warmth, but when you drop to your knees in front of him, letting the brown shag underneath you dig into your skin, his expression morphs into one of excitement.

Hands work at his belt buckle, undoing it, then his pants, and you help him step out of the fabric along with his underwear. His cock, in all of its thick, throbbing glory feels as heavy as always in your hands when you pump him a few times, watching the precum bead at his tip. Wrapping your lips around the bulbous head, you suckle at it a few times, loving the way that Joshua starts breathing heavily above you, one of his hands coming up to settle on the back of your head.

You ease his length into your mouth bit by bit, enjoying the way the thickness stretches your lips and your throat as you take him in. You clench around nothing, already anticipating that same stretch in your dripping cunt.

“Fuck, just like that, darling,” Joshua grunts when you finally take him as far as you can fit him in your mouth, your hands wrapping around the rest of him. Your head bobs in tandem with your hands as you stroke him, letting him hit the back of your throat.

Both of Joshua’s hands are on your head now, his fingers getting caught in your hair as he tugs a few times. You’ve had his dick down your throat enough times to know what he wants, so you go slack, letting him fuck your mouth, gagging each time he pushes your head to meet his thrusts.

Your eyes slip closed, letting him use your mouth to the pace he wants. Your core throbs almost painfully as you suck him off and you have to rub your thighs together to feel any semblance of relief, although it’s nowhere near enough.

Joshua stills his hips then, keeping his length buried in your throat, your nose touching his pubic bone as you slowly breathe out of it. You swallow around him a few times, Joshua letting out a long, rumbling groan from his chest before pulling you back, his cock leisurely sitting against your lips, both of you trying to catch your breaths.

“Keep sucking me off like that and I’ll have to paint your pretty face.”

You suck him in one more time then pull off of him completely with a pop, tongue dipping into his slit just to tease him. “Do it. Want you to cover me in your cum.”

Joshua hisses, the grip on your hair tightening as he pulls you off of his length once and for all. “Fuck, you’re so nasty. Sit on the couch, baby.”

Ignoring the soreness in your knees, you crawl to the couch and perch on the edge, awaiting Joshua’s next instructions. Joshua unbuttons his shirt, your eyes greedily drinking in every inch of his toned, honeyed skin as he does so. Once he’s fully naked in front of you like he has been so many times before, you lick your lips, wanting nothing more than to cover him in marks of your own.

That will have to wait as it’s Joshua’s turn to drop to his knees and make his way over to you, settling in between your already open legs. His hands, always so big and warm and strong, grip your thighs, spreading them even further, so agonizingly slow.

“Mmm, there she is - drooling for me already. Crying to be filled up.”

“Josh- shua, please!”

“Please? Please what, sweetheart?” Joshua drags his finger through your sticky folds, watching your arousal coat his fingers.

“Please finger me or fuck me - anything!”

The smirk that tells you he plans to tease you plays on his lips, the corners quirking up in the most aggravating, charming way.

“Anything?”

“Please!”

His palm meets your core with force, smacking your pussy and sending a jolt through your whole body. Back arching in the air you let out a tiny scream, and more follow as he does it a second, third, fourth time.

“Joshua, baby, fuck, please!”

“Hmm? Thought you wanted anything I give you? Slapping your greedy pussy isn’t enough?”

Shaking your head vigorously, you beg him for something more. “Wanna be stuffed, please, Shua!”

His eyes darken at your words and he takes a mercy on you, landing two more smacks against your mound before he dips a finger into your core, a sigh of solace leaving you. He watches your mouth hang open as he works his finger in and out at a torturous pace.

“Always so warm and wet for me.”

“Always,” you assure him. You’ll always be ready for him in any way that he wants you.

Joshua slips a second finger in, stretching your walls more. You can write a whole dissertation about how good Joshua is with his hands and how much you love them, but his pace picks up, sufficiently wiping your brain of any of those eloquent words.

“Fuck!” You yelp as he keeps pumping his fingers into you and leans over to wrap his lips around your aching clit. He sucks at the bud, pistoning his digits and crooking them, his fingertips catching against your g-spot. “Shua!”

“God, I love it when you say my name. Say it again, baby.” To coax you, he flattens his tongue against your clit, putting pressure on it as his fingers move faster, and rougher, bringing you closer to your peak. If it’s up to Joshua, he’d have you cumming until you pass out, but you have to draw the line somewhere after the first night he wanted to see how many times he could get you to cum for him (his record is eight, and you haven’t had the fortitude to let him try and break it just yet).

“Joshua - Shua, gonna cum!”

“Go on then, do it, baby, cum for me.” He continues to suck on your clit, his teeth grazing the nub a few times and that’s all it takes to have you let go, yelling out Joshua’s name again as you do. He doesn’t give you time to catch your breath because his mouth then latches onto your pussy, tongue darting into your wet heat.

“T-too much!” Your whimpers are half-assed and he knows you don’t actually mean it which is why he keeps at it, slurping your juices and fucking you with his tongue. Joshua hums against you as he goes and it’s embarrassing how quickly you cum again, but your partner loves it, chuckling against you as he laps up your release and places a kiss on your puffy lips.

“You always taste so sweet, baby. Flip over for me?”

“‘Course,” you rasp, turning your already tired body over, Joshua helping with gentle hands on your hips. He stands up, stretching tall as he walks to his forgotten pants and gets out his wallet.

“Damn it,” he huffs, rifling through his wallet and checking the pockets a few more times.

“What’s wrong?”

“I forgot to bring more condoms. You okay waiting for me to -”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. I need you now.”

“Y/n, we’ve never -”

“I know, but I haven’t been messing around with anyone else since we started seeing each other. Have you?”

“No, I haven’t. How could I when I have a whole you waiting for me here?” Even with your ass in the air and pussy glistening with his spit, it’s the way he says this - with so much care and admiration in his tone - that has you flustered.

Joshua joins you again, hands running down your back, goosebumps popping up on your flesh under his touch. He stops at your ass, squeezing and kneading your cheeks, spreading you open, the cool air of your apartment making you jump.

The chill is quickly replaced with the searing warmth that is Joshua as the tip of his dick nudges your entrance. He purses his lips, leaning over to spit on both his length and your hole before plunging into you. His girth stretches your walls deliciously, inch by inch of him entering you.

You let out an audible shudder as he goes, relaxing your body as best you can as he stuffs you.

“Look at you,” Joshua coos once he’s fully sheathed inside of you. “Taking my fat cock so well, darling.”

“Feels so g-good, Shua. So fucking good.”

“Yeah? I’ll make you feel even better, baby.” Joshua grips your waist and pulls his hips back, all the way until only his cockhead catches at your hole before snapping forward, shoving his dick back into you to the hilt. You can’t help but wail at Joshua’s thrusts, hips meeting you repeatedly as he drives into you over and over again.

Your record still plays in the background, the slaps of Joshua’s skin against yours mixing with the melody along with yours and Joshua’s moans. The drag of Joshua’s dick against your gummy walls has you shuddering underneath him. Without a condom, he feels so much hotter inside of you as every vein, every ridge, every pulse of his cock can be felt with each thrust.

“Shit, just like that, Shua!” Your neck cranes to look over your shoulder, attempting to gain some leverage against the couch cushions by leaning on your elbows. The sight of Joshua, skin flushed and shining with perspiration, eyebrows knitted in concentration with his bottom lip pulled between his teeth is enough to send you careening towards your end. You don’t get a chance to warn him before it hits you, the building pressure in the pit of your stomach releasing as you’re pushed to let go, burying your face in the cushions with tears pricking at your eyes.

“Fuck, look at you. Couldn’t even hold off from cumming again. You like my cock that much?”

“Yes!” you sob. “So much! So good…”

Joshua pulls out, you whimpering at the loss of him, but he doesn’t leave you empty for long. Joshua’s big hands help flip you over on your back, ass almost hanging off of the couch. He grasps your thighs, pushing your knees into your chest as he enters you again, burying himself in your messy heat. Joshua’s hips drill into you, balls slapping against your ass each time he surges forward.

Your record has stopped playing by now, the only song sounding through the walls of your apartment are your sobs of Joshua’s name and his grunts as he uses all of his strength. He keeps you pinned between his body and the couch, dick battering your sore cunt as both of you chase your ends.

“Shit, baby you’re so fucking beautiful. Taking my dick like a good girl.”

“Y-yeah. I’m your good girl!”

“Yeah, you are. Always so good. Letting me fuck you raw. Wantin’ me to fill up this filthy little pussy.”

Joshua swivels his hips, tip grazing against your spongey bundle of nerves. “Just like that!”

His hands keep your legs up and spread open as he does what you beg for, repeatedly pounding into your g-spot as your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open as any more sounds die on your tongue.

“Look at you. All fucked out and drunk for my dick. Gonna pump you full of my seed, maybe even fuck a baby into you. Would you like that?”

“Yes! Fuck me, Shua!”

“Fuck yeah, I will. Gonna flood this cunt with my cum and get your belly nice and round. Gonna make you mine forever.”

The Earth shatters around you and a tsunami of fire washes over you when you cum again, your back arching painfully as you scream out for him. Your pussy clenches around him, squeezing his cock like a vice which triggers Joshua’s orgasm.

“Shit - fuck, Iloveyousomuch!” The words tumble from Joshua’s lips as he cums, painting your insides sticky and white. He milks himself as he keeps his pace, his seed spilling out around his cock, leaking out and dribbling down your ass. Feeling him stay true to his word and pump himself dry into you draws a final, much smaller, weaker orgasm out of you as tears fall from your eyes both at the oversensitivity and hearing Joshua say to you what you’ve hoped he would for nearly a year.

Neither of you move, panting like crazy as the sweat on your bodies starts to dry along with the cum still slowly trickling out of you. When Joshua finally eases out his softening length, it’s with a groan on both your parts. Your sore legs lower, limply hanging off of the couch. The sensation of the rest of his cum seeping out of your abused hole and down your legs makes you sigh, your hips wiggling in response.

“Look at you, baby. You’re a mess.” He’s still a little out of breath but still manages to tease you.

“And whose fault is that?” He simply chuckles at you and you watch him through bleary eyes, heave himself off of the couch, and go into your kitchen.

He’s back in no time, two glasses of water in his hand. He offers you his bicep which you take, using him for leverage to sit up. You eagerly accept the water, downing the glass in less than thirty seconds, dry throat more than grateful.

Joshua’s next to you on the couch, watching you as he hydrates as well. The two of you sit in silence, emptying your cups and catching your breaths. For a moment, you worry that his confession was only in a bout of pleasure, but as if reading your mind he speaks.

“I meant it, you know. I love you.”

That’s all you need to hear to have you practically launching yourself in his lap, your lips crashing into his for a long, but sweet kiss. Joshua cradles your face, kissing you back just as hard, both of you eventually giggling into each other’s mouths.

When you need to breathe again, you pull away just enough to rest your forehead against his. Joshua’s brown eyes shine as they meet yours, your stomach flipping as you’re reminded for what feels like the 500th time just how handsome he is.

“I know you already took a bath, but I think we need to get you in the tub again,” he comments, gaze flickering down to the cooling streaks of his cum on your legs. And how he’s all yours.

“Only if you join me this time.”

“Only if you make time to let me take you on a proper date tomorrow night. We’ve spent a ton of time together, but I need to court you for real now.”

“As if I’d say no to you. I’m in love with you after all.” A brilliant, blinding smile takes over Joshua’s face and your heart leaps. No matter how much time you spend with Joshua, you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of laughing with him or smiling with him. And especially not dancing with him. You’ll never tire of that.

Net tag: @kflixnet

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