#timothee x reader

Side note: the genuine urge I have to just go down the list of characters Timotheehas played and give each of them a small list of kinks I think they might have and why is overwhelming but I’ll save that task for later.

pairing: timothee x fem brat reader

summary: you’re on very thin ice with your co star and though your teasing starts out innocent enough Timothee decides it’s his life’s mission to make you regret ever challenging him in a game you weren’t winning from the start.

warnings: mdni, cnc, age gap, slapping, very slight humiliation kink, oral fixation, and implied power play

type: smut/drabble

a/n: Started this at 3 am so we will see how this turns out. Also I need mutuals so don’t be afraid to dm me or pop into my inbox. I’ll answer quick if I’m not busy.

Co-star Timothee is literally the sweetest man on earth. Polite, charming, and able to joke with anyone he’s around. Sure he’s a bit cocky at certain moments but everyone generally seems to adore or like him. It’s not a stretch to say he’s perfect from every angle or that his charisma is captivating. So, when you first meet him and start working on set together you don’t have the immediate urge to get under his skin. If anything you try your best to impress him, get those small proud smiles of his sent your way, and always hoping to get a genuine compliment from him after rehearsing.

Co-star Timothee is practically friends with anyone and everyone. You find his extroversion incredible since you couldn’t fathom being social with anyone outside of necessaries sake. Yet, the longer you work alongside him on the project the more you feel your stomach twist with hidden envy when his attention is torn away from you and onto someone else. You try to ignore it at first, enjoying the time you can spend together uninterrupted, but after two weeks of being in his presence non stop it seems impossible. Despite all your efforts to let your jealousy dissolve it still shows in the smallest of ways and Timothee quietly takes notice of that but says nothing of it since he finds your predicament amusing yet adorable from his perspective.

Co-star Timothee mentally catalogs the subtle changes in your behavior, smiling when you unknowingly let him see hints of your growing attachment to him, and reminiscing on your slip ups when he’s alone with his own wandering thoughts. You were such a sweet girl, a talented one too, but new to the ins and outs of an industry that ate lovely people like you alive….

And god did he want to be the first to try….

Co-star Timothee isn’t the least bit shocked when you snap at him out of nowhere while going over an upcoming scene. Your vaguely hidden unease starts when a costume designer saunters over to check a stitching on his collar, insisting that she’d be quick as he sat there reading through his copy of the script while you sat across from him and tried not to look up. When a minute turned into five more of the assistant fluttering her hands around him you quipped at her without thinking.

“I think it looks fine now. Just perfect.” You flash a small closed eye smile her way, waiting until the assistant leaves before staring at your script again and praying he doesn’t see the light rose hue rising on your cheeks.

Timothee, does in fact take notice, quietly laughing to himself for a moment before he breaks the lingering silence, “You’re cute…”

Co-star Timothee catches the redness bloom into the apples of your cheeks, watches you glance at him just to glue your eyes back to the papers in your hands, and notes the slight shaking of your leg. All that from his simple compliment? It’s a subtle stroke to his ego but he refrains from voicing it. You were sweet, younger, and just a bit more inclined to be naive about yourself -a flaw of yours that he reveled in and at times found enticing.

Another week passed. Filming was ramping up and with that progression came more stress….especially for you.

Co-star Timothee wasn’t as bothered or overwhelmed as you were, used the symptoms of long days in front of a camera, but sympathetic to the slight attitude change that came over you. What he couldn’t quite understand was your growing passion for testing his patience. Pretending not to hear him call your came when the cameras weren’t rolling, brief glares at him from across the room when he happened to be speaking to someone that wasn’t you, and you’re new habit of starting harmless arguments when he finally did get you to sit down with him for long enough to read through the script for the next shoot.

“You’re rushing that last line,” he commented plainly, highlighting part of his own scene as you mumbled something under your breath at unwarranted his critique.

Timothee didn’t raise his eyes from the papers, flipping to the next page as he sighed out a steady response to your grumbling, “What’d you say, sweetheart?”

You stiffened, aware he causally addressed people with pet names often, but for some reason his dismissive but direct tone with you this time made your nerves go taut with frustration and….excitement. “I’m not your sweetheart and I’m not rushing anything…” you mumble passive aggressively.

You try not to look his way, try even harder not to let your tone reflect the quickening pace of your heart rate, “and you’re not my fucking acting coach Tim so stop acting like it.”

Co-star Timothee feels the vein near his temple flex at your soft but obnoxious retort. You’d only known him for a few months now but you -and everyone else he had more than one conversation with- knew he hated being called ‘Tim’. The few beats of silence he let hang in the air after you said it could’ve rivaled a wake at a funeral. You heard him inhale slowly, didn’t have to look his way to know his jaw was clenched, and could practically sense the hard stare he pinned on you.

Fuck.

Co-star Timothee drops his stack of dialogue and scene directions on the small coffe table between you two with a solid ‘snap’. The crisp and intentionally loud sound nearly makes you flinch but you refuse to shift or look away from the papers covering your flushed face. He watches you, observing the way your fingertips gently grip the packet a little harder, dark eyes traveling down your oddly still figure as you lounge on the worn in trailer couch. You were nervous, flustered, and deriving some sort of pleasure from pissing him off and gaining his undivided attention.

Being an absolute brat for no reason…

Timothee cocked his head to one side, brows furrowing a bit as he stared you down through the pages you flipped between slowly, “Do you think you’re being funny right now?”

His question is plain, rhetorical by all means, and any sane well meaning person would have answered it with conscious regret.

You decided to do the complete opposite -speaking without thinking as if being intentional with your words wasn’t your full time job.

“I don’t know I’m usually hilarious….Tim”

Co-star Timothee has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself in check, closing his eyes briefly as a wry laugh vibrates his chest, and running a hand through his dark curls to ground himself completely. One time was a slip up but now you were purposefully dragging it out for a reaction he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to give. Young, stubborn, and petty. That’s what you were and the better part of him -the more mature and rational part- should’ve just left the trailer and let you wallow in your own sour mood….

But then there was that arrogant, easily provoked, and improper part of him that seemed to only rear its ugly head when you were alone with him.

Co-star Timothee let the latter part win, standing up out of his seat to step around the coffee table, and by the time you shifted to avoid his sudden advance he was already caging you in against the cotton cushions. “Personal space,” you quietly complained, lifting a knee to attempt nudging him away but failing when he shoved it back down with one hand. “Personal space, huh?” He mocked your complaint through a low scoff, tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he looked you up and down before snatching the script away from your hands and tossing it on the coffee table with his own copy.

You tensed, face falling into an apprehensive and innocent expression as his stern and focused one came into view. A knot formed in your throat, gradually descending as you gulped firmly to attempt to defend yourself, “You…..you’re being cruel….and mean….”

A gentle scowl pulled at your mouth, but your stomach did a somersault when his glare intensified as your comment lingered.

Co-star Timothee stared you down, a slow and small smile catching his lips as he did. “Mean? Weird? I’m being mean and weird, huh?…” he nodded his head with each repetition of your accusation, glancing at the closed trailer door before focusing on you again. A moment of quietness went by, and you thought about attempting to push him away once more, but your thought was interrupted the moment his lips touched yours for a forceful kiss.

You whimpered at the unannounced contact, startled and elated all at once as he guided your timid response with a deeper execution. His tongue slipped into your mouth, direct and wholly invasive, only easing up when yours gingerly joined the exchange.

He groaned at your effort, chasing your lips for one messy kiss after the next until your head leered back into the cushions as you softly gasped for a much needed breath. You inhaled a hushed breath, eyes glazing over, and your breaths shallow as he lowered his head to kiss along your neck.

“You’re being a fucking pervert right now,” you utter the insult, half hoping he’ll stop, and half glad he doesn’t when your words dissolve into soft incoherent whines.

Co-star Timothee couldn’t care less about your criticism. You weren’t telling him to stop, not even trying to fight him, and the more marks he left on your skin while his hands wandered over you the less you writhed away from him. If you wanted to keep dragging along this unruly attitude with him, fine, but he had no intention of letting you be so confident about it.

“Then tell me to stop,” he turned your face to the side with one hand, allowing himself more leverage to find a sensitive spot between your ear and neck to mark next as he continued in the midst of his task, “Push me off….fight me. Go on baby, try…”

You sank into yourself, soaking in his every word and touch, and loathing how much power he leveraged against your better judgement

Because he was right: you could tell him to stop, could fight, or could even scream for help….

But those reactions were the last options on your mind, merely disappearing thoughts as he eased two fingers past your damp lips to muffle your quiet moans and give you something to drool on as he taunted you.

“Try.” He reinforced his order by pushing his fingers deeper into your mouth, hearing you gag quietly but not letting up as you continued to eagerly suck on them. You were fading between two extremes; giving up to him now or fighting him until later. Your head spun and you could only whine in frustration at the thought.

Co-star Timothee sits up, not pulling his fingers from your mouth even when drool drips down your chin and your pleading gaze fixates on him, “Come on….I know you can do better than that.” He narrows his eyes and you whimper but find your senses just enough to give him what he wants. A fight. Some form of back and forth.

He doesn’t flinch when you bite down on his fingers, merely humming in satisfaction when you let up feeling the covert pressure his free hand puts against your cunt through the fabric of your skirt. You inhale a shuttered breath, able to relax your jaw when his fingers slowly retreat from your lips, “Fuck….you….Tim-“ you shift to sit up, expression full of unfounded anger, but he shoves you right back down.

“Fuck me?” Timothee repeats you, ridiculing you passively as you writhe underneath him and try to wriggle up and out of his reach. “Yes, you. Stupid fucking prick-“ your insult is cut short with a small but forceful slap of his hand against your face.

You freeze, eyes glistening as you stare up at him like a wounded pet, but you refuse to sniffle or show a hint of pain. “That’s it?,” you mumble, an unconscious retort, but an honest one.

Co-star Timothee bites his lip, hiding a coy smile as he watches your eyes fill with a excitement any normal person might recoil at. He slapped you again, not hard, but enough to snap your head to the side and make you swallow a quiet sob. “Are you going to keep running that pretty mouth of yours?”

You blink up at him, innocent as ever as hold his gaze, “I’ll do whatever you want…”

And he knows you mean every word, can tell from the stifled elated yelp you let out when he shifts to sit down with you in his lap and your back pressed to his chest. He savors that shameless willingness you give, keeping you close just to feel your grind down against him.

You couldn’t sit still, not with his hard on pressing into you, and definitely not with his arm wrapped around your neck from behind to keep you exactly the way he wanted you.

Co-star Timothee hates it when you shy away from him, displeased when try your hardest to press you thighs together to keep his touch at bay, and slightly annoyed by how shy you get when he does offer the attention you so adamantly fought for moments ago. You can’t look him in the eye, face hidden in his forearm as you hesitantly relax enough for him to spread your legs open for him, and your voice stuck in your throat feeling his fingertips trace up and down your inner thighs. “Where’d all that confidence go?” He chastises you in one breath, hand slipping past the hem of your skirt just for him to hook a finger on the fabric of your panties, and you flinch with nowhere to go as his hold on you stays firm. You bite your lip, trying hard to not focus on the consistent and direct friction he allows your cunt while gently pulling at the damp lace covering it, but the instant your lips part to protest him a moan rolls off your tongue instead.

“Th-that’s not….f-fair mmm a-ah,” you stumble over your response, hips unconsciously rocking in rhythm with his deliberate teasing.

Timothee smirks, not really caring to hear what you have to say as he lowers his gaze from your flushed face to rising and falling chest and straight down to your parted legs and tentative thrusts against his hand. A smile tugged at his lips, morphing into a pleased smirk the instant you thighs tensed and your head reared back onto his shoulder while you whined in frustration.

“What was that,” he mumbled into your neck, hearing you the first time, but chipping at your self worth for the sheer fun of it.

You swallowed hard,wanting to cry while your nails dug into the skin of his forearm, but you repeated yourself in a bashful whisper.

“N’ sorry for calling you that…”

Timothee hummed, a passive sound that let you know he wasn’t satisfied with your apology -even if he was actively pulling your panties down your hips and adjusting you in his lap so the fell to the floor.

You instinctively went to close your legs but he was quick to shift your right leg over his thigh and hold it away from your left. Heat curled in your stomach as he forced the position on you, evoking into pure arousal as you felt his free hand move away from your inner thigh to slip under you and reach for the zipper of his pants.

“You can do so much better than that, sweetheart….i” Timothee mused at you, voice lowered to a vague groan, and his eyes drifting close in anticipation when you whimpered in response.

“….I….just wanted….your attention,” you admit, guilt lining your quiet confession, and it seems to earn his approval.

Co-star Timothee can’t hold a grudge against you for long. There’s not a bone in his body that can stand seeing you upset -no matter if it was your own fault. He’s wrapped around your little finger, able to let you get away with things he’d usually never let pass, but that pure look in your eyes and the tremor in your apology unravels him completely. So desperate to impress him, to keep him for yourself, and he couldn’t blame you for it.

Not when your cunt wrapped around his fingers with an ease that was anything but shameful. Not when your arousal dripped down his hand, sticky, and never ending. Not when you sat so still and polite when he finally pressed the head of his cock past your folds and into your warm fluttering walls. Not when you did your very best to muffle your moans with the taste of his fingers and attempts at blinking away tears when he did fill you with every last inch he had to offer. Not even when you went numb from pleasure, back arching from his chest as he fucked you at tortoise steady and rough pace. Not even when your eyes rolled back, your lashes fluttering against your damp cheeks as he guided one of your hands to weave through his dark tresses.

He couldn’t blame you for being so willing.

Not once.

Not you. Not the lovely girl who only has eyes for him….

He had no right to reprimand you for the mess he made of you by the time his cum mixed with yours and dripped down your leg.

He was supposed to be your role model, a man you could count on when a line of dialogue or script direction didn’t make sense, and the mentor that could guide you without losing his edge.

But you had to learn your lesson this time; even if that meant he left you feeling sore for hours after.

credit to editor ✨🤎

Hi love! Yes, I do take requests and you’re the first to make an order! Omg I’m so glad I’m not the only who found the idea exciting! I went ahead and whipped something up just for you and I hope you like it!

“Sweet Tooth”

N. I. M. I. ‘S. M. A. S. T. E. R. L. I. S. T.

smut. fluff. angst. wip/fanfic.

Timothee Chalamet

“sweet tooth”

“tit for tat”

pairing: wonka x fem virgin reader

summary: You’re the sweetest girl Wonka has ever met -almost too nice for your own good at times but when he convinces you to try his newest experimental treat he’s the first to witness just how shameless you can be.

warnings: mdni, dub con, oral, degradation, praise, breath deprivation, slight exhibitionism, cum/spit swapping

type: smut/oneshot

a/n: I wrote this at work but I barely have to do anything to begin with while I’m there so this was actually me being very productive all things considered.

You knew better.

You knew better more than anyone else…

Never ever take candy from a strange man -even if that strange man just so happens to be your exceedingly charismatic fiancé of two years.

“Come on. Just try one little bite for me, love. You wanna help me don’t you?” He flashed you a smile, polite as ever, and blatantly persistent. He knew you’d give in eventually, always willing to help him no matter what, but you had a bad habit of hesitating when you so clearly wanted something.

He couldn’t stand it at times. Not because he hated how reserved and cautious you could be but because it struck a nerve in him that always led to all the blood in his body running straight to his cock. For two years he’d kept certain urges to himself, considerate of the soft affection you were content in having with him, and mindful of how flustered you became from the simple kisses he gave you when you happened to have a moment alone.

Two whole years of nothing but gentle touches and quick kisses that left his head spinning and cum wasted into the palm of his own hand on countless occasions.

He could only wait for so long and with his impatience came innovation through his craft.

The idea had come to him on one of the many nights you cuddled yourself close to him -entirely oblivious to the hard lift in the crotch of his pants that pressed against your thigh.

He couldn’t help it….not when you looked so innocent and pliable next to him.

Wonka tried to think of anything else, laying there in complete silence watching you sleep while his body tensed with need, and in that quiet instant his mind came to one conclusion.

That’s it!

A treat made just for you. Only you.

He’d make it perfect, construct a one of kind candy that was only meant for you to savor, and give it to you as a heartfelt gift.

It was pure genius and for months he put all of his attention into the task. Gathering rare ingredients, testing small doses on himself, and biding his time until he found the perfect opportunity to share his discovery with you.

The small oversight of said discovery being a selfish scheme to indulge his own pleasures wasn’t a particular detail you needed to know about.

Not upfront anyway.

You glanced at him, soft features settling into a apprehensive pout, “But I thought you said this was a one of a kind chocolate? Aren’t you going to make more-“

Wonka sighed, interrupting your concern with a low whisper that carried a tone of seriousness he rarely used with you, “Open wide for me.” He watched as your expression shifted, how your doe eyed stare fell as if he’d scolded you, and the way your cheeks took on a subtle heat at the notion of him ever being upset with you.

Always sweeter and softer than sugar for him…

Almost too sweet….

His cock twitched in his pants at the observation and he tried not to smile at the thought as you obliged his gentle command. Your lips parted, barely open before he pressed the chocolate covered honey filled cube against them. You slid the candy onto your tongue, trying to be polite as the wet muscle gingerly swept across his fingertip, but the accidental contact on your part made his chest tight with satisfaction no matter how innocent of a mistake it was.

Your teeth broke into the dark chocolate shell, it’s lemon-honey and cream filling bursting onto your tongue with a sudden tartness that made your cheeks tingle, but you did your best to savor the special treat with a coy smile and soft hum. He watched your every expression, drinking in your measured reactions, and thoroughly enjoying how antsy you already were from the mere taste of his creation.

“Good girl,” he praised you, a tender comment you blushed at, but a common phrase he said to you that never failed to make your stomach fill with evident warmth. You swallowed what was left of the candy, unconsciously swiping the tip of tongue across your lips with little regard for how long he’d been staring at them. “That has to be your best flavor yet. I’d die for another piece of it.” You complimented him, sweet as ever, and Wonka had half the mind to drain you of every last drop of kindness filling your body if it meant he could fill you with himself instead.

He steadied his composure with slow exhale through his nose, standing up to make the bulge in his crotch less obvious, “I’m glad you like it. I made it just for you in all honesty…”

Your eyes lit up hearing his confession, “How sweet of-“ you trailed off, heart fluttering at a sudden rate that made your breath hitch. Wonka stared, seeing all the signs of his carefully constructed aphrodisiac take hold of your unsuspecting nerves. You blinked slowly, eyes glossing over feeling heat rush through your veins before settling into a steady thrum in your lower abdomen. “I…..uh….mmm…” you tried to find words, tried even harder to focus on him despite your vision blurring at the edges. A shiver traveled up your spine, luring a wave of relaxation to fill your head, but instead of feeling the need to pass out a ripple of restlessness crawled into your chest.

What….is this feeling?…

Wonka watched you glanced around, observing your eyes clouding over like a porcelain doll’s, but he made no move to help you.

Not yet.

You took a shallow breath, stare shifting endlessly until the familiar warmth of his hand gently holding your jaw brought your gaze back to him. He held your focus, taking note of the panicked and helpless look on your face as he quietly explained himself -a confession you could barely comprehend now and one he found pleasure in giving in the midst of your compliant state.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. I promise….you’re just…..a little weaker than usual,” his expression shifted, full of false concern as he watched your pupils dilate. “Poor thing…..it’ll feel much better soon,” he lowered himself, eye level with you as you tried to speak but could only let out a soft whimper. Your brows furrowed slightly, mouth suddenly dry, and the space between your thighs pulsing so intensely it almost hurt to sit still.

You didn’t want to sit still.

All you could think about was his touch against your skin, his voice ringing in your ears, and that persistent need to taste something sweet….

Anything you could get your hands on…

And in that moment Wonka had made sure the sweetest thing within your reach was himself.

“It hurts doesn’t it?” He mused at you quietly, voice etched in mock sympathy as you closed your eyes and nodded slowly. A whine of discomfort strained your throat, dying out into a soft exhale as you leaned into him for whatever stability you could get, “Hel….help me….please…” you whispered into the crook of his neck, inhaling the smell of bitter cocoa seeds and vanilla extract that constantly clung to him.

Heavens he smelled just like that candy he made….

You drowned in your own thoughts, unaware of the pleased expression on his face or the soft intoxicated smile on your lips as he shifted your body to settle on his lap. You straddled him on instinct, thighs spreading to comfortably level yourself against him. He stiffened, biting the inside of his cheek as he felt the evident arousal coating your inner thighs and the wet source of it leaking straight through your linen shift. “Huh..…” he groaned, expecting you to be eager, but not at all anticipating your body to be so sensitive so quickly.

But who was he to question your cravings and it would be entirely cruel of him to let you suffer through them wouldn’t it?

And he prided himself in never ever being a cruel man of any kind.

“Of course I will, sweet girl….all you had to do was ask,” he soothes you in a measured tone, voice low in your ear as your lips start to wander and press lingering kisses against his skin. You’re pining without thinking, clinging to him as if touch is your only tangible sense left, and when his hands start to trace the sides of your feverish frame you can’t help the soft moan you let out as your hips gently rut into his lap to relieve the pressure building in your cunt.

“That’s it….” He urges you on quietly, proud of himself, and even more proud of how apt you are to obey. Your pace is unsure, timid, but you can’t help the need to grind against him in an attempt to gain a sliver of relief. Your face is barely flushed, tucked into his neck, and your shuttering breaths fanning against his chest soften as your hands lift to fist the fabric of his collared shirt.

“More…..need more…”

You didn’t have to plead with him for long, struggling to string together a coherent sentence with the mind altering substance running through your veins. If he hadn’t made the aphrodisiac himself and known it’s harmless symptoms he might’ve been more worried about your inebriated state.

Yet, the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips was anything but worrisome, hidden from your line of sight the instant he tucked his head into the crook of your neck. He kissed the flushed skin there before biting a particular spot that made you tense against him. “Don’t…” you huffed quietly, not used to him being so direct or rough, but he merely ignored you. You moaned involuntarily as he bit down on the spot again and again. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he left blooming bruises wherever his lips went and though your conscious was startled by his subtle aggression your body did nothing to stop him.

You could barely fathom a thought by the time his kissed you again, following his tongue with your own no matter how far he pushed the previously chaste affection into a messier exchange. Your mind became useless for thought when he pulled away to admire the lucid look on your face. The deft trace of his hands along your breasts was steadying, guiding the thin material on your skin down until it pooled at your waist, and his hands firm on your waist as he lifted you off of his lap just high enough to slip the fabric off of you entirely.

Your bare skin felt cold as the stale air in the room engulfed you but that was the last thing on your mind as you settled down in his lap again, chasing his lips for another kiss that he gave into with a a quietly delighted hum. “That’s it….” He mumbled between each messy kiss, smiling as you ran your fingers through his dark curls just to pull at them gently until his body was flush against you. Impatience; it was consuming you and bringing out a shameless longing in the best way possible.

Drool dripped down your chin, the subtle tension pulling in your cunt making your thighs tremble, and your eyes filling with tears that you wanted to let fall if it meant he’d stop torturing you.

You needed friction, filling, relief.

You needed him.

Any and every way you could have him.

Wonka wasn’t the least bit caught off guard when you shoved him backwards, mildly amused by the attempt at a glare you were giving him when his back met the stuffed mattress, “You’re not being very polite, dear,” he mused quietly.

His eyes darkened and you swallowed hard at his reprimand but gave an instinctive retort, “And you’re a sick fuck for making me this way.”

A beat of silence hung in the air and for a passing second you considered apologizing for being so harsh but the sudden shift of your weight being pushed to the side made you yelp in shock instead. Your back melted into the covers underneath you, muffling the soft thud of your body being pinned down without warning. You raised your hands to push him away, more angry than amused by his torment, but Wonka was much apt with his reflexes and captured both your hands with one of his.

His usual cheerful disposition dissolved -a rare occurrence but one you’d grown to be weary of.

He was serious -feeling challenged- and from the glint of determination in his eyes you came to the very ominous conclusion that your usually charming husband to be was having fun lording over you.

Your thighs pressed together at the thought, face flushing with a cherry red hue as you stared up at him, and not a single muscle in your body resisting him as he held your trapped hands above your head. He lowered his face, coming close enough that your noses touched, but far enough that all you could do was feel his lips graze your own as he spoke in an even tone.

“You’ve made me wait long enough for this…the least you can do is behave, yes?”

You swallowed, breaths slow and shallow as you held his stare before giving a timid nod of agreement.

Wonka furrowed a brow, shifting so his left knee could push your legs apart and nestle against your bare and glistening cunt. “Not good enough….let me hear you.”

You bit your tongue, feeling oddly defiant in the moment seeing a less forgiving side of him slip past his cheerful facade, but the pleasurable friction he started to provide by pressing and holding his leg against your dripping sex was provoking.

“Y-yes…” you whined quietly, eyes fluttering shut as your hips caught an unintentional and gentle rhythm, chasing whatever satisfaction you could get from him. Wonka offered a soft smile at your obedience, free hand lowering to push your left thigh further away from his leg. You groaned quietly, feeling his fingertips trace your inner thigh just to stop near your slick folds. “Stay still,” is all the warning he gave before you felt his other hand release your wrists and his head lower to rest between your legs.

“Wait, don’t-“

Your protest was too late and not of any consequence to him as his warm breath spilled onto your wet entrance with a steady exhale. His focus completely centered on his own selfish intentions -even if they had a direct affect on you.

In that very moment he was starving and the more you shied away from him the more he wanted a taste of you. The very new and sudden predicament of him being face to face with your cunt made you restless, face burning, and your bottom lip catching between your teeth as you tried to think of anything else. Although it was nearly impossible to distract yourself from the sensation of his tongue sliding along your folds, deliberately taking his time to savor you first before he put his patience to the side and explored every inch of your entrance at his own pace.

You squirmed, gasping softly as he lapped at you, moaning softly in delayed amazement as his tongue breeched a spot of nerves that made your head spin and legs shake. “Right there…” you whispered, not sure if he knew what you meant until he held your hips down against the bed before swirling his tongue on the exact same spot over and over.

He refused to let up, proud to have found your most vulnerable point, and determined to drink in the pleasure he inflicted on you. Saliva trailed down his chin, mixing with your arousal into a small puddle on the wrinkled sheets as he groaned against your cunt.

This is exactly what he wanted, what he waited for, and god you tasted so much better than he imagined.

You tried to stay quiet, mindful of the others in your modest apartment building, but he wouldn’t stop wandering his tongue into any and every inch of your cunt that it could reach. You dared to look down at him, immediately regretting it seeing how content he looked watching you try to remain somewhat composed, and the instant your eyes fluttered away from his and into the back of your head he took it upon himself to gently nip at your bundle of overly sensitive nerves.

“Ah,….m-mm!” You yelped at the sensation, back arching slightly as your thighs pressed against his head. Wonka moaned from your instinctive bracing, letting his tongue resort back to its original task of tracing your cunt, and his eyes drifting shut as he tried to ignore the nearly painful throbbing in his crotch. You felt a coil of warmth wind itself tight in your stomach, building pressure on itself the longer he delved his tongue into your heat.

You nearly cried when it snapped without warning.

He stiffened, eyes half open as you tensed and whimpered his name among a string of moans, and letting his mouth go lax as it filled with the subtle taste of your cum while one of your hands reached to sift through his hair.

You looked angelic as you unraveled, a complete vision of ecstasy as your eyes filled with stars and your head leering back into the covers. Wonka soaked every inch of the sight in, committing it to memory as he unconsciously lapped up the remnants of your high with a lazy smile on his face.

He only drew back when you whined for him to stop, pleased with himself as you traced his face with a unsteady hand, and laughing quietly when your fingertips felt the trail of wetness leading from his lips down to his neck.

“I’m…m’ sorry I didn’t mean to make such a mess…” you shut your eyes tight, too nervous to look at him, and even more embarrassed feeling your body ache for more excitement.

What in heavens name did he put in that chocolate?!….

You didn’t have a chance to ask him, squealing softly as he climbed on top of you again and got a hold of your face with one hand while the other reached down to unclasp the buttons of his pants. You shifted to look downward, curious as to what he was doing but he forced your attention to stay on his face, planting a deep kiss on your lips that quickly coaxed you back into a daze.

His tongue parted your lips, a thick and distinct flavor spilling from it and into your mouth with vulgar ease. Too overwhelmed and thoroughly immune to shame you didn’t resist the gesture, smiling as a content moan stirred in your throat feeling his spit mixed with your cum cascade into your open mouth.

Wonka groaned loudly as you swallowed down his well earned prize, drawing back to place a softer kiss on your damp lips, “See how sweet you taste?….its heavenly isn’t it…” he can’t curb the condescending edge to his voice, taking too much pride in the utterly charmed look in your eyes as he praises you.

You nod slowly, hands working at the buttons of his shirt, shifting it off his shoulders and onto the floor with the growing pile of discarded clothes. “I wanna taste you …” the request is unconscious on your part, softly echoing around the room for a moment before he nods and stands from the bed.

“Lay down. Face up and towards me,” his instructions are simple and you almost hesitate but one glance down at throbbing cock resting in his hand and you position yourself without another word.

You stare up at him, eyes hazed over but still sweet and willing as he steps closer and uses his unoccupied hand to caress your face before gently using his thumb to part your lips. “Keep those pretty eyes on me, alright? Even if it hurts I want you to keep looking at me.”

You nod slowly, blinking once as he slides his thumb into your mouth, prompting you to suck on it before the tip of his cock replaces the intrusion. You flick your tongue along his tip, smiling softly hearing him stifle an elated moan, keeping your gaze on his heavy stare as you slowly accept every inch he eases past your lips.

You shift your head up and down, doing your best to at least reach the few inches of him you couldn’t take laying still, and your tentative stimulation seems to please him if the charming smile on his face is anything to go on.

You watch him, enamored by his alluring features as they twist and reform through phases of pure satisfaction. He does his best to not set the pace too fast, making sure you can breathe with every steady thrust of his hips, but the moan you let out when his tip grazes the back of your throat dismantles every ounce of restraint he worked so hard to maintain.

You gagged gently, eyes watering but your mouth still wrapped around his length just the same, and the rhythm you started out with forgotten entirely as you quickened your pace just to hear him groan and hiss your name with a furrow in his brow and watch his eyes close in pure bliss as you brought him closer to the edge with an enthusiasm he had a hard time believing could manifest in you.

God, was he wrong.

Wonka grit his teeth, swallowing to prevent a particularly loud moan from escaping but failing as the sound filled the room with your muffled whines and wet stuttering breaths.

“Can’t…not …like this…” he groaned, unsure if you could hear him but even less confident he could keep himself from falling over the edge if you kept sucking him off without a care in the world for anything else. He pulled away, sliding his cock from between your glossy lips with a soft ‘pop’ before inhaling sharply to bring himself back down to reality.

You smiled up at him, feeling lightheaded, but the distance between reality and imagination a minor concern to you when he was the only thing your mind could presently comprehend. He smiled, a wry upturn of his lips as he ran a hand through his hair and his warm brown eyes trained on your love drunk expression.

You rolled over, gaze heavy and your voice barely above a whisper as you held his intrigued stare, “I need more….please….more of you.” A chill ran up his spine as he watched you carefully, the nerves in his neck prickling with excitement hearing the honest longing in your tone, and before his better judgement could invade his conscious he found himself on top of you again.

Your head pressed face first into the covers, back curved into a careful arch, and your hips rolling back slowly against his as he leaned forward to kiss along the right side of your neck all the way to the shell of your ear. “Steady now,” he breathed against your skin, patient with your untouched entrance as the head of his cock inched past your sensitive folds. You shuddered at the new feeling, knowing it would hurt but not prepared for how electrifying it would be to feel your oh so sweet lover plunge into you an inch at time with nothing more than a hoarse command and a steadying hand on your hip to comfort you.

You imagined the moment to be less forceful, frightfully romantic seeing as he’d was always that way about anything else, but in this moment you could only fall in love with the less considerate version of him that was stretching your cunt out to take the whole of him. He was only a little more than halfway inside of you now, breaths measured as they fanned your neck while yours came in shuddering whimpers against the tousled sheets.

You felt heavenly wrapped around him. Warm, slick, and more than ready to suffocate l his cock if you would just relax. He considered the option of continuing to ease you onto him but when your walls fluttered and seized around his length without warning Wonka snapped his hips forward with tactile force rather than considerate patience.

“OH MY G-“ you keened, unable to keep the scream that lingered in your throat from escaping as he sank all the way into you without so much as a warning. He clamped a hand over your mouth just as the yelp passed your lips, grunting loudly as you huffed into the palm of his hand and let tears roll down your cheeks and onto his slender fingers.

“M’ sorry sweetheart….” He apologized, sweat gathering at his temple, a few strands of his curly hair sticking to his forehead as he started a steady pace of thrusts to counter your momentary pain and shock. You sobbed into his hand, wincing for mere seconds before a subtle thrum of pleasure started to simmer under your skin, coming in stronger waves with each snap of his hips. Your eyes rolled, unfocused as they dared to reach the back of your head again, and your vision blurring over completely when the tip of his cock hit a certain spot in your walls.

What in the world is he doing and why don’t I want him to stop…?

He tensed, feeling it too, and without a word he aimed each of his thrusts to align with that very spot. You slumped forward, moaning loudly into the palm of his hand as tears drizzled down your cheeks, mixing with the drool leaking down your chin. Wonka let his gaze drift, admiring your vulnerable position, eyeing the closed apartment door he knew fellow strangers walked past, and finally staring at the dim ceiling above to keep his mind from getting too attached to the sight of your cunt greedily consuming his length.

But you made it impossible to ignore and damn near unfair for him to endure much longer.

You met his pace, pushing back against his forceful and quickening thrusts without a second thought as another addicting knot of pleasure started to tangle in your stomach. You barely heard the knock on the apartment door went it came, not able to focus or speak when Wonka shouted some dismissive remark to the passing stranger when they asked if everything was fine, and you definitely couldn’t stop him from pressing his hand against your gaping mouth and nose harder.

“Be a little quieter for me, sweetheart…” he mumbled, not daring to stop his assault on your cunt just because a neighbor who was too curious for their own good wanted to check in on the lovely girl next door.

And you were certainly lovely; even when you went numb from pleasure and came on him with a fragile and muffled moan of his name.

Pure perfection…

He clenched his jaw, free hand pressing into the small of your arched back as your cum coated his cock, a smile catching his lips as the sensation reverberated straight through him.

You felt dizzy, staring off into somewhere in the room as your own arousal dripped down your inner thighs while he continued to abuse the sweetest spot your body had to offer. It only took a few more sharp and deep thrusts for him before his thrusts faltered and his cock twitched in the depths of your soft walls as a mind numbing warmth poured into them.

You whined at the invasive yet fulfilling sensation. You smiled against his palm as the warm liquid traveled somewhere deep inside of you before it complexly settled -as if it had found a permanent home of its own. Wonka exhaled slowly, quietly laughing to himself as he pulled out of you with measured care, but you still let a whimper at his full retreat.

He fell to lay beside you, uncovering your mouth to place that very same hand in your hair as he pulled you close. You groaned softly, aching in certain places, but overall delirious from the experience.

“What did you put in that candy?…” you mumble into his chest as you curl close to him, half asleep, but unable to get the question off your fogged mind.

You heard him chuckle, felt him kiss the top of your head before he whispered a simple answer in your ear.

“Just a bit of pure honeycomb extract and lots of love…..”

You note the mischief in his voice but can’t muster the energy to scold him or his very eccentric ways of getting what he wants.

credit to editor ✨🤎

And yes I do have therapy sessions two times a week for this exact reason.