#BUT i got over it and i want to be over it and i want it to be in the past | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nymphoheretic · 2 days ago

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Not Through Yet

Warnings: implied marathon sex, implied breeding, mentioning of pregnancy, unprotected sex, squirting, overstim, reader/MC passes out, praise, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), cum eating, caleb's arm has a useful feature (let me know if I'm missing anything)

Word count: 2.1k (I wrote this with my pussy on the keyboard)

A/N: This is straight smut all 2.1k of it and is kinda like a continuation of Unwanted Reunion, but can be read as standalone!

AO3

Network: @eveningatthemoviesnetwork

“C-Caleb, gunna cum...”

How many times have you said this sentence? How long has it been since Caleb pulled you from that interrogation room to his quarters on the Fleet’s ship to fuck you over and over, driving your body into overstimulation and making you so sensitive that the feeling of your own sweat rolling down your body was enough to make you cry out so wantonly.

Every methodical drag of his cock through your gummy walls was enough to make your body tremble with another onslaught of shivers. You whimper when he turns your head to face his, lips finding yours and his tongue delving deep. Your pussy squeezes his cock just right, milking his balls of his seed as you drench his shaft in your creamy arousal.

“Go ahead. I’m right behind you, princess.” He moans so sweetly against your lips, a string of saliva still connects your tongues as he pumps his hips into your at a much slower pace than he had been. It was as if he was contradicting his words and prolonging your orgasm. The steady wet clap of his balls smacking against your sensitive, overstuffed cunt was almost enough to send you back spiraling.

Your back arches away from the bed, arms heavy from exhaustion as you lift them to wrap around his neck. “Can’t cum anymore, Caleb...s’tired...need t’rest.” His lips move to brush over your forehead as he pants out, hips still continuing their slow roll into yours. Caleb peppers kisses all over your sweaty forehead and down your cheek until he reaches your lips again. They were swollen from the many times he’s sucked them into his mouth, nibbled on them, just tasting your lips repeatedly. He couldn’t get enough of you. Caleb needed more of you. Feeding you his tongue to silence your whine, his left hand crawls down between your thighs and rubs slow, steady circles on your clit, working you up to another orgasm after the one you just had. “You got plenty in there for me, right? Yes, you do. C’mon~ Give me what I want, sweetheart.” Caleb coaxes gently, yet his tone was still even. Like he wasn’t being affected by the sheer overstim he was putting you both through.

You moan as your cunt releases its juices quickly over the thrumming of your clit pulsing under his fingers as he plucks at it like a finely tuned instrument. Your slick dribbles out, running down the crack of your ass to join the large, growing wet spot under you, drenching the sheets. “Fuck! Caleb! I can’t anymore!” Caleb simply curls his arms around your head, caging you in as his hips pick up in speed, the lewd schlick of your velvet heat taking his cock ringing out in the room. He couldn’t stop; wouldn’t stop. Not until you were swollen with how much of his cum he’s pumped inside you. Not until he’s gotten his fill of you. Until he’s gotten in a year's worth. But even then he wouldn’t be satisfied. Caleb craved you; vowed to always be there for you; to always protect you. And that’s what he was going to do.

He drags his cock through your slick walls, grunting at the way your walls cling to his shaft and trying to suck him back in deeper. A chuckle vibrates in his chest tingling down your lips as he suckles your tongue briefly before letting go. His thumb comes up to break away the thin string still connecting your lips, smearing it over yours as he smirks down at you. “That’s not what she’s saying.”

His hips snap into yours, thick cockhead battering against your cervix, kissing at the entrance to your womb. Sweat rolls down the side of his face, the clear droplet hanging from his chin until it splatters down onto your collarbone. “She is squeezing me so tightly, little one. It almost makes it hard to keep thrusting.” He brings his bionic arm up to his lips and licks the tip of his middle and ring fingers, coating them in his saliva. “My hand also has a special feature I thought about just for you.”

You gasp when the cold digits touch your hot flesh as he trails them down your belly, a gentle vibration skimming across your skin. “Caleb, what?” You look down at his hand and see the fingers whirling and humming as they shake softly. Your head falls back against the pillows as your back arches away from the bed, hips pressing more into his as his fingers touch your clit. “Fuck! That’s feels...ah~” Your words are cut off in another fevered moan as Caleb rubs slow circles around your throbbing nub.

Caleb smiles sweetly, eyes full of affection, desire, and need as his cock batters against your womb, vastly contracting against his sweet words as his fingers vibrate on your clit. His lips find your sweaty forehead, tongue slipping out to collect the droplets of sweat to taste the salt of your skin as he presses tender kisses. “You used to always like when I did this~” His fingers press harder against your throbbing nub, the buzzing from the vibrations sending the neurons in your brain alight as your body bucks.

“Oh my god! Caleb!” Your voice comes out in a loud cry as your tears fall faster down your cheeks as the sting of overstim settles in your bones. Your clit twitches violently under his touch as your pussy clamps down tightly on his girth. You manage to jerk your legs away from your chest to wrap them tightly around his waist. “You’re gonna make me cum again. Oh, please?!” “Please?” He repeats in a teasing mockery mimic of your voice as his free hand comes to cup your jaw, his chest pressing into yours and making your overly sensitive nipples rub against his sweat slick skin and making you cry out even louder. He could feel the way your walls quiver around him. “Come on, little one. Stop being stubborn and let her wet me up again. You know you want to.” the vibrations quicken as he turns your face towards his, his tongue dipping out to curl into your mouth and swallows your screams.

Your back arches violently, nails of one hand digging into the sheet under you as the other rips through the flesh of his back. You feel him hissing against your lips as your dig your nails deeper into the muscles of his face, pussy clenching tightly around his shaft as your juices leak out of you like a faucet. The spray of hot liquid drenches his lower abdomen, thighs, pelvis, and drips down his shaft to soak up his balls. Cooling droplets roll down the crack of your ass before joining the pooling wet spot underneath you.

His grunts morph into moans as his hips studder, your slick walls massaging and trying to milk his cock for his seed. “Fuck...she’s clamping down on me so tightly. She must really be hungry for my cum? You want me to cum inside you. To fill you up and fuck it deeper before cleaning you up with my tongue, princess?” Caleb’s lips curl into a sweet smile when all you could do was let out babbles and broke pleas of his name.

“Yeah? Say my name.” His left hand trails down your neck to your belly, fingertips swirling over the small bulge his cock was making. “Feel me right here, princess?” Caleb teases, making you whine out and tighten your legs around his waist. A chuckle vibrates through his chest as he leans back in and presses the sweetest of featherlight kisses to your lips as his cock twitches with your depths.

A guttural moan leaves his throat as he snaps his hips and his back straightens, his heavy balls drawing up as his cum paints your insides white in his color. “Fuck, princess. That’s a good girl. Taking my cum like the slutty girl you are for me.” His right hand stops vibrating, your juices sliding down the digits as he brings them to your lips. “Go on, clean them up for me then I’ll clean up my mess.”

“Your mes-mmmph~” Your words are cut off in a muffled moan as Caleb slips his soaked metal fingers past your parted lips. You whimper at the musky taste of your own slick and the metallic tang of his fingers running over your taste buds and your eyes slide close. A hum vibrates in the muscles of your throat and chest as your curl your tongue over the cool digits, warming them with your saliva before swallowing around them.

“Atta girl...” His lilac eyes swirl with lust as he watches you clean his hand of your squirt as he slowly drags his cock through your sensitive gummy walls, his cum sloshing around from the movement. He eases his softening dick out your fucked out little hole and slowly dropped open mouth kisses down your chest. His tongue curls over one nipple, worshiping it his his teeth with light nibbles before moving down lower. His lips nuzzle against your belly; one day it will be rounded with his child.

One day.

His kisses trail lower until he has your thighs cupping his head. Caleb’s eyes lock on the thin glob of his cum that oozes out of your hole and his mouth waters a bit. Resisting the urge to use two of his fingers to scoop it back in and push it in deeper, his tongue lolls out. The pointed tip of his pink muscle strokes over your slit from bottom to top, collecting the string on the flat of it. He moans at the taste of his sticky cum mixing with your slick as it spreads over his taste buds. Caleb feels you jolt, your hands flying to tangle in his hair to probably stop him, but he uses his evol to make your wrists fly above your head and pin them to the mattress.

He moves his hand from your mouth as his cups his hands under your ass to bring your cunt to his ravenous mouth. One taste of your combined fluids and he was hooked. His tongue slithers into your gushing hole, seeking out more of his cum because he knows that he’s stuffed you so full of it by now. He shakes his head like a hungry dog, sweat dripping down his forehead and making his bangs stick to it in wet clumps. Lewd slurping sounds come as his lips suckle at your clit, tongue wriggling inside your clenching pussy.

Your back arches even more due to his grip on your ass as he lifts you up, your hips off the bed as your upper back and shoulders still rests on the mattress. You try to pry your wrists from the strength of his evol to no avail as he begins to feast on you, the lewd slurping and swallowing filling the bedroom. Your mouth parts in a scream as your nerves are driven past the point of overstimulation. “Ca-Caleb! I-” Your words die off in another scream as the white hot coil in your lower belly winds tighter and tighter with every greedy lick and slurping of his tongue.

He suctions his mouth to your hole to suck out every last drop of his cum out your pussy, his nose bumping against your overly engorged clit. His eyes slide close as the musky taste of your juices mixed with his seed continues to flow over his tastebuds, He couldn’t get enough as his cock twitches back to life and pre slowly beads in the slit to dribble down his shaft. “Come on. Let me taste her. Let her squirt down my throat.” His left hand raises slightly and smacks down on the firm globe of flesh that was your ass, the skin jiggles lightly.

You could feel black spot forming in your vision as your chest heaves, your stomach caving in as you cum hard on his relentless tongue. Squirt, hot and runny, filling his mouth and running down his throat as he eagerly swallows it all down. Your body goes limp in his hands as the black spots increase, spreading over your vision completely. “Ca-leb....” You whisper out before exhaustion finally claims you.

Caleb pulls away from your delicious cunt, his lower face wet and shiny. His eyes immediately try to catch yours and panic settles in his chest when he sees you passed out. “Shit.” He curses as he lays you down in a dry spot on the bed. He crawls up to cradle your face in his palms and looks at your peaceful sleeping face and lets out a sigh of relief. “For a Hunter, we need to work on your stamina, little one.” He chuckles as he presses a sweet kiss to your sweaty forehead. “Get some rest. You’ll need it for later. I’m nowhere through with you.”

2022-25 nymphoheretic - I do not give permission to copy, edit, alter, or distribute my work. Do not adverse on tiktok. Do not repost on any other platform. I only have tumblr and AO3.

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solxamber · 3 days ago

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You Try to Sleep on the Couch after an Argument with: Vice-Housewardens + Ruggie

Part 1 with Housewardens

Trey Clover

The argument wasn’t a loud one—no shouting, no slamming doors—just tense words exchanged with too much weight behind them. Trey’s voice had been steady, but his usual patience was stretched thin.

You, equally frustrated, had decided that the best course of action was to remove yourself before either of you said something you’d regret.

So, with a sigh, you grabbed a blanket and made your way to the couch, settling in with your back turned toward the bedroom.

Trey let out a heavy exhale behind you, but he didn’t stop you.

You shifted, adjusting the blanket, willing yourself to fall asleep. It didn’t work. The room was too quiet, too heavy with the remnants of unspoken words. You half-expected Trey to leave you there and go to bed, but then—soft footsteps. A rustle of fabric.

Kneeling beside the couch, Trey placed a hand on the cushion near your arm. His voice was quiet, steady in a way that made something in your chest ache.

“Come back to bed.”

You closed your eyes. “Not yet.”

A pause. Then, a soft sigh. Trey stood. For a moment, you thought he was giving up, finally going to bed without you. The thought left an unexpected hollowness in your chest.

But then, after a few minutes, he returned. You smelled the milk before you saw it—the faint scent of vanilla and honey curling through the air. When you cracked an eye open, there he was, sitting on the floor near the couch, a mug in his hands. He held it out to you.

“Here,” he said. “I know you have trouble sleeping when you’re upset.”

You blinked at him, heart squeezing against your ribs. “Trey…”

He didn’t push, didn’t insist. He just waited, his eyes gentle, patient in the way only he could be.

And just like that, your frustration melted. You took the mug, letting the warmth seep into your fingers. Trey didn’t move, just watched you with that quiet steadiness. Then, softly, he asked again,

“Come back to bed?”

This time, you didn’t hesitate.

You set the mug aside and sat up, only for Trey to immediately wrap his arms around you. His hold was firm, grounding. He buried his face in your shoulder and murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, holding him just as tightly. “I’m sorry too.”

Neither of you moved for a long moment, staying there in the quiet. Eventually, Trey pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead.

“C’mon,” he said, voice low, warm. “Let’s go to sleep.”

And this time, when he led you back to bed, you followed without hesitation.

Ruggie Bucchi

The couch wasn’t comfortable. You knew it, and Ruggie knew it. But right now, your stubbornness outweighed your need for a good night’s sleep. You yanked the blanket over yourself, muttering under your breath as you tried to arrange the cushions into something remotely acceptable.

Across the room, Ruggie watched you with wide, calculating eyes. He hadn’t said anything since you stormed off, but you could feel him thinking. And then—

“You remember when you ate my last donut?” he started, voice small.

You froze, narrowing your eyes. “…What?”

“My last donut. You ate it, and you said—” He changed his voice in a mocking impression of you. “‘I owe you one, Ruggie, I swear. Anything you want.’”

You groaned, burying your face in the pillow. “Oh my —”

“But it’s fine,” he continued, so dramatically forlorn you almost threw the pillow at him. “I guess I’ll just be all alone in that big, cold bed. No warmth. No love. Just me. Shivering.”

You lifted your head, ready to tell him off, but then—oh, no.

He hit you with the look.

Ears drooping. Tail flicking. Wide, guilt-inducing eyes that shimmered just enough to make your resolve crack.

You exhaled sharply, dropping your head back down. “You’re the worst.”

He didn’t respond. Just fidgeted. Shuffled his feet like he was actually nervous you’d say no.

And that? That got you.

With a groan of defeat, you sighed and opened your arms. That was all he needed. Ruggie practically launched himself onto the couch, slotting himself beside you in a space absolutely not designed for two people. His weight pressed against you, his tail flicking lazily as he tucked his head under your chin.

“…Knew you couldn’t resist me,” he mumbled, voice muffled by your shirt.

“Shut up.”

His arms tightened around you. A quiet beat passed, then—

“Sorry.”

Your hand found its way into his hair, carding through the strands. “Yeah,” you murmured. “Me too.”

Ruggie hummed, content. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, and despite the ridiculousness of it all, sleep found you too.

Jade Leech

The couch was lumpy. Or maybe you were just too angry to get comfortable. Either way, you buried your face into the pillow, inhaling deeply through your nose to keep yourself from snapping again. You just needed some space. Needed to not be in the same room as Jade and his infuriating, calmly amused expression.

“I can’t be around you right now,” you had told him before marching off, voice tight with frustration. And for once, he didn’t push. Didn’t smirk or throw another veiled comment your way. He simply inclined his head, watching as you all but collapsed onto the couch.

Now, wrapped in a too-thin blanket, you willed yourself to sleep. You were almost there—drifting, fading—when fingers ghosted over your hair.

Your breath caught, but you kept still.

Soft strokes. Careful, reverent, as if he thought you might break. It was so unlike him, so gentle, that you almost cracked your eyes open to confirm it was really happening. Then—

“…I’m so sorry.”

The whisper was barely there. But it wasn’t the words that made your heart lurch—it was the way his voice shook.

Jade Leech, ever unflappable, sounded unsteady.

He pulled back, and you knew he was about to leave. That should have been fine. You should have let him go.

But your bleeding heart had other plans.

Your hand shot out, grabbing his wrist before he could slip away.

He barely had time to react before you yanked him back—maybe a little too hard, because the next thing you knew, he was crashing onto the couch with you. A rare, wide-eyed look of surprise flashed across his face, so fleeting you almost thought you imagined it.

And then you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Jade froze.

“I’m sorry too,” you murmured. “We can talk in the morning.”

For a long moment, he just looked at you, something unreadable in his expression. Then, slow and deliberate, he dipped down and pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek.

“…Very well,” he whispered.

His weight settled beside you, and this time, when you drifted off, it was to the sound of his steady breathing, warm and close beside you.

The couch standoff had been going on for way too long.

“I’m sleeping here,” you declared, arms crossed as you planted yourself firmly onto the cushions.

“No, you’re not,” Jamil shot back, equally stubborn. “I am.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m not taking the bed while you sleep out here.”

“And I’m not letting you sleep out here while I take the bed.” His arms were crossed now too, mirroring your posture, his sharp gaze unwavering.

For a moment, the tension held. Then, something about the sheer ridiculousness of it all hit you—both of you too annoyed to back down but too caring to let the other suffer the discomfort of the couch.

A laugh bubbled up in your chest before you could stop it. You covered your mouth, but the moment you let out even the smallest chuckle, Jamil’s eyes flickered with reluctant amusement. He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head.

“This is stupid,” you admitted between giggles.

He sighed, running a hand down his face. “Yeah. It is.”

You grinned. “Bed?”

Jamil didn’t hesitate. “Bed.”

The moment you both settled under the blankets, the last traces of tension melted away. His arms instinctively curled around you, pulling you close, and you let yourself relax into his warmth.

“Sorry,” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his shoulder.

His grip tightened, lips brushing against your hair. “Me too.”

Neither of you said anything else. You didn’t need to. The steady rhythm of his breathing and the way he held you just a little closer said enough.

Rook arguing with you was already unexpected. That he let you march off to the couch without a poetic declaration or dramatic plea? Unheard of.

You cocooned yourself in the blanket, stubbornly facing the back of the couch. The silence felt unnatural—too quiet for someone like Rook. A part of you expected him to suddenly recite a Shakespearean sonnet about lovers quarreling.

Instead, something even more ridiculous happened.

You shifted slightly, just enough to glance toward the floor—and there he was.

Laying down right beside the couch on a thin blanket, arms crossed behind his head as though he had chosen the most luxurious sleeping arrangement in the world. His golden hair fanned out on the hardwood floor, and despite the clear insanity of the situation, he looked perfectly content.

You stared. Blinked. “Rook.”

“Oui, mon amour?”

“You’re on the floor.”

“Indeed.”

“You’re going to get sick.”

“Then I shall suffer beautifully, just as you do now, exiled from the comfort of our bed.” His eyes twinkled, completely unrepentant. “If my beloved must endure the cruel fate of sleeping alone, then I shall share in their hardship.”

You pressed your fingers to your temples. “Rook, go to bed.”

“I am in bed.”

“No, you’re on the floor, being dramatic.”

“Dramatic? Ah, ma chérie, I am simply a devoted man.”

You groaned, throwing your arm over your face, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you. It was impossible to stay mad when he was like this. Ridiculous. Completely, helplessly devoted.

Sighing, you reached out and flicked his forehead. He gasped theatrically, touching the spot as though you had struck him with Cupid’s arrow. Before he could say something absurd, you leaned down and kissed the spot gently.

“Come to bed, you idiot.”

His eyes widened slightly before his lips stretched into a dazzling smile. Without hesitation, he stood—and then immediately scooped you into his arms.

“Rook—?!?”

“Ah, mon amour, such sweet mercy! Allow me to carry you away from this exile!” He spun dramatically, pressing an exaggerated kiss to your forehead before striding toward the bedroom.

You should have expected nothing less.

You sighed against his shoulder, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you adore me.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

Lilia Vanrouge

You had firmly decided that you weren’t going to sleep in the same bed as Lilia tonight.

You needed space. You needed time to cool off. You needed—

Blink.

One second, you were wrapped in your blanket on the couch. The next? You were in bed.

You shot up, heart pounding. Lilia stood at the bedside, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Lilia.” Your voice was dangerously even.

“Yes, my dear?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you teleport me?��

A smug smile. “Would you rather I carried you?”

Oh, you were about to start another argument—

But then you noticed something. In his hands: a pillow and his own blanket.

You frowned. “What are you doing?”

Lilia hummed, casual as anything. “If my beloved insists on sleeping elsewhere, then I shall take the couch in their place. I have endured far worse in my lifetime—” his eyes twinkled mischievously “—but I’d hate for you to wake up with an aching back.”

You groaned, flopping back onto the mattress. “That’s so unfair.”

“To be this thoughtful and charming? I know.”

You shot him a look, but he simply smiled. You hated how sweet he could be even when you were still irritated.

With an exasperated sigh, you sat up and grabbed his wrist, tugging him toward you. He followed easily, his blanket forgotten as he slipped into bed. Without hesitation, he wrapped himself around you, chin resting atop your head.

His voice softened. “I’m sorry, dear.”

You exhaled, tension leaving your body as you relaxed into his hold. “…I’m sorry too.”

His lips brushed against your temple, and with that, the night’s quarrel was put to rest.

Masterlist

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slvttyplum · 2 days ago

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sukuna's stomach mouth intimidated you; it was so big and kind of scary when it gaped open, but sukuna assured you every time with attitude that it’s safe.

rolling his eyes, huffing and puffing as you explained to him why you didn’t want to, your paranoia making him groan.

of course, this was sukuna’s way of telling you to just fucking sit on his mouth, his stomach mouth to be exact.

“what exactly are you afraid of? if i was going to eat you, i would’ve done it centuries ago… sit.”

sukuna was a pervert; those were your words exactly, so confused on why he was so adamant on getting you to sit on his stomach.

this was one of the many things he wanted to try, this being more tame than the other things he had in mind, so when he saw how hesitant you were whenever he suggested it, it annoyed him.

“please, do tell, what is it i have to do to make you sit on me? hm? lay out a sheet and put down food like a picnic?”

his annoyance only growing, but no matter how many times he brought it up, it was going to be your choice, and the night finally came, where curiosity killed the cat.

slowly straddling him as he laid back, both his hands resting on your hips with a firm grip, his lips curling into a smirk as his eyes trailed your naked body.

he waited for you to get comfortable on top of him, your hands resting on his chest, then finally opening the mouth that laid on his stomach and sliding his tongue over your wet heat.

once his tongue finally got a taste of your pussy, it felt like his soul was ascending from him, the taste satisfying him, a low laugh coming from deep within him.

your body twitches and squirms as his big tongue continues to lick stripes over your sopping slit, sliding his tongue over your clit and back to your slit in a swift motion.

sukuna's eyes were fixed on yours, his chest repeatedly rising and falling quickly with satisfaction.

his hands running up your sides, one of them groping your breasts, a low moan erupting from his throat, watching you intently.

this is what he wanted from the very start, for you to get on top of him and give in, give in to the pleasure he did desperately want you to experience. now that you were, it felt like an out-of-body experience for the both of you.

this feeling that you felt deep in the pit of your stomach, trying to swallow down a moan, but another one even louder than the last pushed up, your body unstable, squirming on top of him, sukuna's grip on your hip tightening, making sure you stayed in place.

"should i make you cum?" teasing you as his tongue went back and forth on your clit, watching your every move and how you fought the urge to get off of him from the intense pleasure.

his eyes roll up as he feels you pulse on his tongue, another laugh erupting from within him as you finish.

sukuna was expecting you to be the one flustered out of your mind, but instead he was there clutching you like you were going to fly away, and his face flushed a deep red.

"i will admit, when you make me feel good, this is one of those times." scrunching his face up in embarrassment seeing you composed, rolling his eyes.

"at least give me a kiss if you're going to sit there; that was hard work." a smile on your face as he pulls you down, kissing your lips and cheeks repeatedly.

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kamitv · 3 days ago

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Tutor!Nanami who steadily became more of a private fuck for you instead of a tutor and utters things like, “If only you followed directions as well as you take my cock.” while he's fucking you over the very desk you're supposed to be studying on.

Tutor!Nanami who's been sick of how awful you are at following his overly simple directions whenever he tries to go over course materials with you so, he figured he'd have to fuck these lessons into that pretty head of yours.

Tutor!Nanami who wasn't even the one to suggest this kinda thing. He just went along with the way your eyes focused more on the tight blue-collar shirt and khaki-colored slacks he wore on a day to day basis instead of the notes he was reading to you. You made it so painfully obvious that you only agreed to these tutoring sessions so that you'd have an excuse to ogle him.

Tutor!Nanami who, after fucking you that first time, decided to use the sex as more of a reward for every time you studied properly with him. If you could last an entire session without your eyes lingering elsewhere, he'd reward you by laying you out against the desk and eating you out like a man starved.

Tutor!Nanami who groans into your sopping cunt about how, "This is what happens when you focus on your work instead of," pausing, simply to reel back and shoot at messy wad of spit right in between your slippery folds, "Thinkin' about filth all day."

Tutor!Nanami who kisses just about every inch of skin his lips can reach as he fingers you 'til your legs are shaking around his hand and your fingers are curling around his wrist, pushing at him to give you a break.

Your back is arching up off the desk and moan after moan of his name is slipping off of your tongue whilst you writhe beneath the skillful curl and twist of his thick fingers inside you.

Tutor!Nanami who praises you like it second nature to do so, all against your ear with his warm breath tickling your sensitive skin and his slightly fogged glasses brushing up against you as he tips his head every which way just to get different looks at you.

Tutor!Nanami who promises to fuck you how you really wanna be fucked as long as you ace your next test. And when you come to him a few days later with that gorgeous A printed atop your paper, he's left to completely and truly live up to his own promises to you.

Tutor!Nanami who's mouth is filthier than you could've ever imagined once he's got you at his place. Fast forward past all the sloppy make-outs that led you to where you are now and here you are standing before him with soaked panties and heavy lungs as he unbuckles that thick belt of his.

Clank after clank and you're nibbling on your lower lip in pure anticipation, awaiting the moment he tugs that belt through its annoying loops and tosses it to the side.

But of course, Tutor!Nanami still has you anxious at every given moment because suddenly he's tipping his head to the side and nodding his chin toward your legs, “Bend over n’ show her to me."

You've never moved faster in your life--tugging off what little clothing you have on, discarding it to the floor and doing exactly as he's instructed you to by bending over his bed and leaving your cunt on full display for the man.

Tutor!Nanami smirks and runs his smooth textured fingers over the curve of your ass first before settling his greedy palms on your hips and leaning over just to whisper to you. "I wanna see if this pussy’s worth taking my cock exactly the way she wants it,” He tells you with a mean emphasis of his straining bulge against your exposed cunt.

You're unintentionally drooling all over him, and no, not by your mouth at all.

It only takes a bit of messy grinds back against him before Tutor!Nanami gets the idea that you're growing impatient. He was trying to drag this whole thing out with you, truly. But how can he possibly do that when you're turning your head back and begging him to fuck you??

Yeah, this is Tutor!Nanami who gives you exactly what you want and feeds your eager cunt with his fat cock after only a short while of listening to you beg for him.

Tutor!Nanami who fucks you better than anyone else ever has, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull, and your fingers curl into the expensive sheets below.

Tutor!Nanami who's naturally the best at aftercare, and returns to his usual composed and stoic state not too long after fucking you to tears. Treats you the way he did when you first started studying with him and even asks you if you're gonna ace all your tests after this...

Of course, he only asked that because he want you to do well academically. Not because he wants to do this again.

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yesornopolls · 2 days ago

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The article is under the cut because paywalls suck

This is an edited transcript of an audio essay on “The Ezra Klein Show.” You can listen to the conversation by following or subscribing to the show on the NYT Audio App, Apple, Spotify, Amazon Music, YouTube, iHeartRadio or wherever you get your podcasts.

If you want to understand the first few weeks of the second Trump administration, you should listen to what Steve Bannon told PBS’s “Frontline” in 2019:

Steve Bannon: The opposition party is the media. And the media can only, because they’re dumb and they’re lazy, they can only focus on one thing at a time. … All we have to do is flood the zone. Every day we hit them with three things. They’ll bite on one, and we’ll get all of our stuff done. Bang, bang, bang. These guys will never — will never be able to recover. But we’ve got to start with muzzle velocity. So it’s got to start, and it’s got to hammer, and it’s got to — Michael Kirk: What was the word? Bannon: Muzzle velocity.

Muzzle velocity. Bannon’s insight here is real. Focus is the fundamental substance of democracy. It is particularly the substance of opposition. People largely learn of what the government is doing through the media — be it mainstream media or social media. If you overwhelm the media — if you give it too many places it needs to look, all at once, if you keep it moving from one thing to the next — no coherent opposition can emerge. It is hard to even think coherently.

Donald Trump’s first two weeks in the White House have followed Bannon’s strategy like a script. The flood is the point. The overwhelm is the point. The message wasn’t in any one executive order or announcement. It was in the cumulative effect of all of them. The sense that this is Trump’s country now. This is his government now. It follows his will. It does what he wants. If Trump tells the state to stop spending money, the money stops. If he says that birthright citizenship is over, it’s over.

Or so he wants you to think. In Trump’s first term, we were told: Don’t normalize him. In his second, the task is different: Don’t believe him.

Trump knows the power of marketing. If you make people believe something is true, you make it likelier that it becomes true. Trump clawed his way back to great wealth by playing a fearsome billionaire on TV; he remade himself as a winner by refusing to admit he had ever lost. The American presidency is a limited office. But Trump has never wanted to be president, at least not as defined in Article II of the U.S. Constitution. He has always wanted to be king. His plan this time is to first play king on TV. If we believe he is already king, we will be likelier to let him govern as a king.

Don’t believe him. Trump has real powers — but they are the powers of the presidency. The pardon power is vast and unrestricted, and so he could pardon the Jan. 6 rioters. Federal security protection is under the discretion of the executive branch, and so he could remove it from Anthony Fauci and Mike Pompeo and John Bolton and Mark Milley and even Brian Hook, a largely unknown former State Department official under threat from Iran who donated time to Trump’s transition team. It was an act of astonishing cruelty and callousness from a man who nearly died by an assassin’s bullet — as much as anything ever has been, this, to me, was an X-ray of the smallness of Trump’s soul — but it was an act that was within his power.

But the president cannot rewrite the Constitution. Within days, the birthright citizenship order was frozen by a judge — a Reagan appointee — who told Trump’s lawyers, “I have difficulty understanding how a member of the bar would state unequivocally that this is a constitutional order. It just boggles my mind.” A judge froze the spending freeze before it was even scheduled to go into effect, and shortly thereafter, the Trump administration rescinded the order, in part to avoid the court case.

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What Bannon wanted — what the Trump administration wants — is to keep everything moving fast. Muzzle velocity, remember. If you’re always consumed by the next outrage, you can’t look closely at the last one. The impression of Trump’s power remains; the fact that he keeps stepping on rakes is missed. The projection of strength obscures the reality of weakness. Don’t believe him.

You could see this a few ways: Is Trump playing a part, making a bet or triggering a crisis? Those are the options. I am not certain he knows the answer. Trump has always been an improviser. But if you take it as calculated, here is the calculation: Perhaps this Supreme Court, stocked with his appointees, gives him powers no peacetime president has ever possessed. Perhaps all of this becomes legal now that he has asserted its legality. It is not impossible to imagine that bet paying off.

But Trump’s odds are bad. So what if the bet fails and his arrogations of power are soundly rejected by the courts? Then comes the question of constitutional crisis: Does he ignore the court’s ruling? To do that would be to attempt a coup. I wonder if they have the stomach for it. The withdrawal of the Office of Management and Budget’s order to freeze spending suggests they don’t. Bravado aside, Trump’s political capital is thin. Both in his first and second terms, he has entered office with approval ratings below that of any president in the modern era. Gallup has Trump’s approval rating at 47 percent — about 10 points beneath Joe Biden’s in January 2021.

There is a reason Trump is doing all of this through executive orders rather than submitting these same directives as legislation to pass through Congress. A more powerful executive could persuade Congress to eliminate the spending he opposes or reform the civil service to give himself the powers of hiring and firing that he seeks. To write these changes into legislation would make them more durable and allow him to argue their merits in a more strategic way. Even if Trump’s aim is to bring the civil service to heel — to rid it of his opponents and turn it to his own ends — he would be better off arguing that he is simply trying to bring the high-performance management culture of Silicon Valley to the federal government. You never want a power grab to look like a power grab.

But Republicans have a three-seat edge in the House and a 53-seat majority in the Senate. Trump has done nothing to reach out to Democrats. If Trump tried to pass this agenda as legislation, it would most likely fail in the House, and it would certainly die before the filibuster in the Senate. And that would make Trump look weak. Trump does not want to look weak. He remembers John McCain humiliating him in his first term by casting the deciding vote against Obamacare repeal.

That is the tension at the heart of Trump’s whole strategy: Trump is acting like a king because he is too weak to govern like a president. He is trying to substitute perception for reality. He is hoping that perception then becomes reality. That can only happen if we believe him.

The flurry of activity is meant to suggest the existence of a plan. The Trump team wants it known that they’re ready this time. They will control events rather than be controlled by them. The closer you look, the less true that seems. They are scrambling and flailing already. They are leaking against one another already. We’ve learned, already, that the O.M.B. directive was drafted, reportedly, without the input or oversight of key Trump officials — “it didn’t go through the proper approval process,” an administration official told The Washington Post. For this to be the process and product of a signature initiative in the second week of a president’s second term is embarrassing.

But it’s not just the O.M.B. directive. The Trump administration is waging an immediate war on the bureaucracy, trying to replace the “deep state” it believes hampered it in the first term. A big part of this project seems to have been outsourced to Elon Musk, who is bringing the tactics he used at Twitter to the federal government. He has longtime aides at the Office of Personnel Management, and the email sent to nearly all federal employees even reused the subject line of the email he sent to Twitter employees: “Fork in the Road.” Musk wants you to know it was him.

The email offers millions of civil servants a backdoor buyout: Agree to resign and in theory, at least, you can collect your paycheck and benefits until the end of September without doing any work. The Department of Government Efficiency account on X described it this way: “Take the vacation you always wanted, or just watch movies and chill, while receiving your full government pay and benefits.” The Washington Post reported that the email “blindsided” many in the Trump administration who would normally have consulted on a notice like that.

I suspect Musk thinks of the federal work force as a huge mass of woke ideologues. But most federal workers have very little to do with politics. About 16 percent of the federal work force is in health care. These are, for instance, nurses and doctors who work for the Veterans Affairs department. How many of them does Musk want to lose? What plans does the V.A. have for attracting and training their replacements? How quickly can he do it?

The Social Security Administration has more than 59,000 employees. Does Musk know which ones are essential to operations and unusually difficult to replace? One likely outcome of this scheme is that a lot of talented people who work in nonpolitical jobs and could make more elsewhere take the lengthy vacation and leave government services in tatters. Twitter worked poorly after Musk’s takeover, with more frequent outages and bugs, but its outages are not a national scandal. When V.A. health care degrades, it is. To have sprung this attack on the civil service so loudly and publicly and brazenly is to be assured of the blame if anything goes wrong.

What Trump wants you to see in all this activity is command. What is really in all this activity is chaos. They do not have some secret reservoir of focus and attention the rest of us do not. They have convinced themselves that speed and force is a strategy unto itself — that it is, in a sense, a replacement for a real strategy. Don’t believe them.

I had a conversation a couple months ago with someone who knows how the federal government works about as well as anyone alive. I asked him what would worry him most if he saw Trump doing it. What he told me is that he would worry most if Trump went slowly. If he began his term by doing things that made him more popular and made his opposition weaker and more confused. If he tried to build strength for the midterms while slowly expanding his powers and chipping away at the deep state where it was weakest.

But he didn’t. And so the opposition to Trump, which seemed so listless after the election, is beginning to rouse itself.

There is a subreddit for federal employees where one of the top posts reads: “This non ‘buyout’ really seems to have backfired. I’ll be honest, before that email went out, I was looking for any way to get out of this fresh hell. But now I am fired up to make these goons as frustrated as possible.” As I write this, it’s been upvoted more than 39,000 times and civil servant after civil servant is echoing the initial sentiment.

In Iowa this week, Democrats flipped a State Senate seat in a district that Trump won easily in 2024. The attempted spending freeze gave Democrats their voice back, as they zeroed in on the popular programs Trump had imperiled. Trump isn’t building support; he’s losing it. Trump isn’t fracturing his opposition; he’s uniting it.

This is the weakness of the strategy that Bannon proposed and Trump is following. It is a strategy that forces you into overreach. To keep the zone flooded, you have to keep acting, keep moving, keep creating new cycles of outrage or fear. You overwhelm yourself. And there’s only so much you can do through executive orders. Soon enough, you have to go beyond what you can actually do. And when you do that, you either trigger a constitutional crisis or you reveal your own weakness.

Trump may not see his own fork in the road coming. He may believe he has the power he is claiming. That would be a mistake on his part — a self-deception that could doom his presidency. But the real threat is if he persuades the rest of us to believe he has power he does not have.

The first two weeks of Trump’s presidency have not shown his strength. He is trying to overwhelm you. He is trying to keep you off-balance. He is trying to persuade you of something that isn’t true. Don’t believe him.

You can listen to this conversation by following “The Ezra Klein Show” on NYT Audio App, Apple, Spotify, Amazon Music, YouTube, iHeartRadio or wherever you get your podcasts. View a list of book recommendations from our guests here.

#not a poll #current events #everything is an illusion of power

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succubusvalentine · 19 hours ago

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Simon Riley who holds his breath when he's about to come. CW : blowjob, sub Simon, mentions of masturbation, PiV, mentions of being recorded during sex.

It was a horrible habit. You had to constantly remind him to breathe when he's about to come.

He gained the habit years ago when he was first in the military barracks as a recruit. He had to be quiet, obviously. The only issue was that he was rather loud when he came. Thus began the habit of holding his breath to not make any sounds.

But now you felt obligated to break the habit.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Your mouth was hot and wet, Simon knew your knees had to be aching with how long you'd been sucking his cock. And yet the selfish part of his brain didn't want to stop you. He couldn't.

Fuck he was close. So so so fucking close.

"Simon" you state firmly "breathe or I'll stop"

Simon didn't realise how lightheaded he'd become. A gasp coming from him. Both to fill his lungs and from your mouth enveloping his cock again.

A pathetic whine fell from Simon's lips as he came down your throat. His hips bucking weakly. He was so used to holding his breath as to not make a sound, that he didn't think to make his moans more masculine.

"You gotta remember to breathe, Si" you remind him. He didn't answer.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You were riding him after he finally got back from a three week deployment. Both of you desperate to feel each other after being apart for so long. The best you got was shitty reception phone calls where the dirty talk was barely audible as you finger yourself.

Your hands were on his chest for stability, Simons hips thrusting up into you while his fingers bruised your hips.

Your cunt clenched around him. And he couldn't stop his rapid climax. His lungs holding in the air he had in them. Nodding his head as his eyes squeezed shut.

He was snapped out of his haze as you firmly grabbed his jaw. Still riding him.

"Breathe" you demanded. And Simon nodded, gulping down air again. Moaning rather loud as he came.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

After a while, at least a year. Simon would break the habit. Much to your enjoyment and relief.

That was up until Simon came home with an expression that was both furious and embarrassing.

"What happened, Si?" You asked in concern.

"Got hard at work cause you sent me that pretty picture of you in that sundress. Tried wanking one out in my office. Johnny heard me when I came because I forgot to hold my breath" Simon glowered.

Immediately you tried holding in your laughter. And you knew that Simon found it at least somewhat funny.

"Never gonna hear the fucking end of it at work" Simon huffed, lifting you up off the couch and over his shoulder. heading straight for the bedroom. "Gonna record you moaning f'me and send it to the lads. That way when you come wi'us to the pub, I won't be the only one getting shit on"

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

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thecoochiefairy · 2 days ago

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soon az i get home. onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 6.8K word count. blackfem!reader, r&b artist coded! onyankopon, grumpy! onyankopon, sweet!onyankopon, dominant!onyankopon, size kink, black woman, vaginal penetration, lil bit of sweet talkin’, lil bit of aggressive talk, creaming, oral [f], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, squirting, riding, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞��𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ reference to the title, this song did inspire this fic. teehee.

𝓐ᥫ᭡ :: onyankopon pays you a visit when he touches down in the city.

visual. visual. visual.

SHINE N’ JAM LATHERED YOUR FINGERS AS YOU TOOK A FINAL SWIPE TO YOUR CLIENTS HAIR. Bohemian box braids had been the style of choice, 613 the full color from her permanently dyed scalp. It wasn’t a color you would’ve chosen for yourself, but it looked beautiful along her chocolate brown skin. She pulled it off flawlessly.

“Niggas wouldn’t know what to do with me if I could pull off being a blonde,” you sigh, giving a light smile as you’re on the final braid, your fingers moving effortlessly against the hair being pulled between your knuckles.

“They barely know what to do with me as it is,” she playfully rolled her eyes, “How much longer to go?”

As she held her phone up, you took a peek in the mirror, able to tell she was on FaceTime. No doubt with her man again.

“I’m on my last braid, babe. Promise,” you reassure, knowing you’d said that before. You had a habit of creating more spaces along your clients scalp, unable to finish your work until you felt that the hair looked entirely full.

“You sure?”

She smirked at you through the side view mirror, her brown eyes twinkling, “The last time you said that, I had to call off work.”

It had only been about six months since you began doing house calls, meaning you were more relaxed in the comfort of your condo—but that didn’t mean you had to drag with your appointments.

“I’m sorry, okay? I know I went over my time a bit. I just want you to feel…” you turn her chair towards the illuminating mirror, mahogany brown wood wrapped along the outside of the LED lights, “Pretty, hm? Tell me you like it since you wanna complain so much.”

“You want to hear that I love it so desperately,” she smiled, standing up from the chair to inspect herself. She didn’t bother with a cape anymore, her black tank showing off her collarbone and arms. The braids fell just behind her shoulders, “You know I love it. Always do.”

She glances back as you begin sweeping strands off the floor, raising an eyebrow, “You’ need help cleaning up for the night?”

“No, no—you’re fine,” you shake your head, “I got one more client coming. Asked me to squeeze him in,” you briefly explain.

You can feel her gaze against you, raising your eyes to a smirk as you say, “What, girl?”

“One more client, huh?” she folded her arms over her chest, the smirk still there, “Girl, please. It’s after ten,” she lightly laughed, “Who is it?”

You roll your eyes with a sigh. She was one of your regular clients, and you talked like sisters. You couldn’t help but be honest.

“Look, don’t go opening that big ass mouth. It’s Onyankopon, okay? He still comes back down to get his hair braided by me.”

Everyone in New Orleans knew him—he’d actually been successful in making it out of the city, becoming a world renowned R&B artist. You’d been braiding his hair up for years, keeping the relationship you had with him extremely private as he didn’t want anyone ruining your privacy.

“Onyankopon?—You lying right now,” she gawked, slapping a hand over her mouth, “Nah, I got to take a picture—I promise you I won’t tell nobody,” she bit her bottom lip, “I promise!”

You rolled your eyes, “Girl, no. He doesn’t want people to know his location in the city—he hates that,” you take some Lysol, spraying down the chair.

“Just one picture, beloved, please? I’ll give you—I’ll pay you,” she took her wallet out, shuffling through her cash, “I know the man is finer in person. You be trying to be so secretive with these Niggas—“

She pauses, “Hollon’—y’all got something going on? That’s why I can’t get no picture?”

“Girl, what? No,” you scrunch your nose, “I just do the man’s hair,” you began pulling out the products you needed for the upcoming appointment, now hiding your face from your client.

You wouldn’t say you had a thing with him. Your relationship started the moment he DM’d you. He said he remembered you from high school and asked you to be his braider—he also mentioned you were pretty—but that wasn’t relevant to the situation. With each appointment, you never treated him as if he was some celebrity. He was just…Onyankopon. He liked that about you.

“Aht, aht,” she shook her head, “If it isn’t nothing with that man, lemme’ get a peek then!”

You rolled your eyes, “Now you ain’t getting shit. I’ll see you in five weeks,” you shooed her behind with your hands, pressing the elevator within your condo.

“Whatever, hoe.”

She stepped on the elevator, looking back at you with a smirk, “You can kiss that tip goodbye!”

Then she was off, the doors closing behind her. You finally had a moment of peace. You allowed the instrumentals of Brent Faiyaz’ Wasteland to thrum along your living room as you cleaned, suddenly feeling a sense of anxiety. You don’t know why you feel yourself becoming so nervous due to the previous conversation you had—but you felt your stomach bubbling at the thought of the elevator doors opening with him on the other side. You’d never felt like this before.

Then, your phone rings. Your eyes glance down—ONY—it reads, and you have to swallow down the racehorse running within your mind as you mindlessly answer, “Hello?”

“You know I’m coming, right?”

A deep, monotone voice that’s smooth like butter spoke through the phone.

You almost roll your eyes, “I’m aware, Onyankopon. C’mon, boy. I’m getting sleepy.”

A deep chuckle fills your ear from through the phone, “I bet yo’ ass gon’ stay up for me though.”

You hear the elevator ding and a slow creak as the two metal doors begin to open, the phone and your hand slightly falling as you glance over to the tall figure entering your condo. He’s dressed in a sable jersey with cargo pants, the oversized top still able to show the silhouette of his muscular frame. The tattoos that litter across his arms pop under the lights of your home, silver chains along his neck that match with the watch on his wrist. He smells like a mixture of musk and tonka bean—his fro is sprawled around his head, jaw locked as mint gum is trapped in between his full dark pink lips.

You sigh in reply to his words as you hang up the phone, “Imma’ do what I need to do to make my money, you know that.”

He shut the elevator doors behind himself, “I know your ass finna’ charge me extra for me being late,” he chuckled, walking towards the chair. He paused in his steps for a moment, eyes raking over your body, “What’s up, baby?”

Baby. It was a simple term of endearment he used, an accent prolific with that specific word. Your eyes run over him—the ink on his face, the goatee and facial hair along his jaw and cheeks, even with his hair sprawled everywhere— he still looked good.

“Hey,” you give him a faint smile, “Was getting here okay? No paparazzi?” You tease.

“Nah, not tonight, at least. They been on my ass though,” he huffed, “A nigga can’t even go get a carton of milk without somebody following me.”

“They’re just excited, Ony,” you give a soft laugh, reaching into your drawer of supplies as you pull out a rat tail comb, “Did you wash your hair already?”

He nodded to show you he had, sitting down on the forest green chair. You never understood how someone like him could be so intimidating, his gaze being enough to make you crumble on the spot.

On the other hand, sometimes he wondered if you knew what you looked like. Strawberry red hair falling in layers down your back, no middle or side part within the style—it just flowed wherever you went. Your army green baby tee and matching drawstring yoga pants that clung to your body, and you always scented bergamot with a milky vanilla. The cute way your black square glasses always tipped at your golden nose ring, it made you so— pretty.

“Why are you in town anyways? You got’ a show or something?” You ask him, going over to your kitchen island, washing your hands of the previous grease and hair products used on your last client.

“Doing a lil’ sum’ at the Smoothie King center, nothing too crazy. I’m surprised you ain’t hear about that,” he glanced towards where you’d been, only able to see the back of your head along the mirror, “But you stay under the rock. I ain’t even gon’ hold you.”

You come up behind him as you shake your head, “I’m sorry. I ain’t mean it like that— I just hadn’t checked your socials since you texted me asking for an appointment,” you apologize, not trying to seem indifferent to his status, even if you knew he didn’t care about that.

His head tilted, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you with a small smile, “You always apologizing,” he muttered, reaching his hand into his pocket, “You needa’ stop doin’ that. I know you got me when I come here. I ain’t tripping on that.”

Your dark lashes flutter, your reflexes pushing your glasses closer up against your face as you feel your cheeks becoming warm. You instinctively dig your fingers into his scalp, pulling at the soft coils to assess his hair, “You’ still tender headed?”

He smacked his teeth before giving a small wince at the sting, “You’ don’t see me about to cry?” He glared, “You a pain,” he huffed, tilting his head to look back up at you, “Why you always tryna hurt a nigga?”

You roll your eyes, “Ony, please. It’s only been two months since you last saw me,” you stare blankly through the mirror, mentally preparing for the fight he always gave before you actually started.

“I don’t like you no more. You hate me. You tryna test me,” he began, going down a small list of your wrongdoings, “I’mma’ find another braider. You want me to feel pain.”

He saw the look in your eyes, his large hands already gripping the handles of his seat. Every appointment was like this, and you knew it. He got comfortable around you—more than he should’ve—maybe it was because you grew up around each other in high school. He knew you—and you knew how to be patient with his ass.

You flip the rat tail comb in your fingers, “You need the teddy bear I give my babies that can’t handle getting their hair braided?” You raise an eyebrow, “You’ getting on my nerves already, boy.”

“I ain’t no damn boy,” He gave you a stern look—but it only got you to smirk. He grumbled under his breath, turning his head back towards the mirror, “Do yo’ thang.”

You begin parting his hair into six straight backs, PARTYNEXTDOOR 4 now playing each song throughout the album, humming quietly in the background. You were always efficient with your fingers, swapping product in between his scalp the millisecond after you parted. He was sensitive when it came to his head, but after about ten minutes, his jaw clenched as his eyes closed, relaxing under your touch. Sometimes he’d even fall asleep, and you’d just adjust to how he laid in that moment.

You ask him, “You’ excited for the show?”

Though his eyes were closed, he nodded his answer, a low hum in his throat. You honestly loved when he got like this—his head would drop to the side, allowing you to braid easier. He trusted you.

“They gon’ go crazy,” he mumbled, the corner of his lip lifting up in a smirk.

“I’m sure,” you muse, “The women love your big headed ass.”

“The niggas fuck with me too,” he smiled, opening an eye to look over at your reflection in the mirror, “You don’t like me?”

You glance at his opened eyes through the mirror, still continuing to perfect the parting spaces in his head, envisioning the style as you softly reply, “I like you. You know that.”

He was always able to see the way you held back your smile, but his grin only widened as he looked at you.

“I know yo’ ass love me,” he began, “All up in my hair, touchin’ me and shit.”

“Not too much,” you laugh, “I touch you cause you pay me to. Them’ girls outside would braid you’ up for free, I don’t play like that,” you smack your lips, “You’ seen your family since you been here?”

His grin faltered in the slightest, the question souring his mood. You’d grown to learn it was a sensitive subject—especially for a young man who wanted the world, but only had a couple people in his corner. You could see the way his facial features turned stern, Onyankopon chewing on the gum in his mouth before he opened his eyes, looking in the mirror to answer.

“Yeah,” he muttered, “Spent some time with momma before she had to go to work. I got to visit my grandma for a little bit too. She always askin’ about you.”

“Bout’ me?” You raise an eyebrow, “I thought you ain’t tell nobody you came over here?”

But that wasn’t what you really wanted to say. It made your face a bit warm to know he’d mentioned you to his family. So you clear your throat, knocking the warmth of your face away as you correct, “I ain’t know your mawmaw remembered me.”

“‘Course she remembered yo’ ass,” he grinned at the sight of you blushing—he always did manage to make you do that.

“Always said you was built like a grown woman, pretty in the face. Real smart, she knew you’ was gon’ be somebody.”

“She’s sweet,” you giggle, “I’m sure she thought I was one of them’ fast tailed girls tryna get your attention.”

“She knew better than that. When did you ever try to get my attention?” He challenged, staring you in the eye. It was a question he’d always had on his mind, but the fact that it finally came from his mouth made the words almost feel tangible.

You think about the question for a moment, beginning to work on the braid closest to the shell of his ear. You pull his head back a bit to start at the root, your scent wafting along his face as you hum, “Mmm, I always thought you were cute. But you know you’re cute, you didn’t need another girl in line to tell you that. I wasn’t tryna’ be a groupie. But you always had a nice voice, and loved the spotlight. It was meant for you.”

He was a grown ass man—nearly nearing thirty, which had passed the age of embarrassment. But you could see the slight tinge on his cheeks, his ears flushing red for a moment before his mouth curved into a grin.

“You like me, huh?” He raised a brow, looking down into his lap to hide the smile on his face. That’s when he noticed the time on his phone, glancing up into the mirror, “Damn,” he huffed, “I’m bout’ to be here all night wit’ you. You needa’ get faster.”

“If I go faster it’s gonna hurt,” you remind him, looping the hair in your fingers just a tad bit tighter, watching as he grimaced in response.

"Ayo!" He flinched, reaching back to try and pry your fingers off his head. You were quick to let go in response, but it proved your point.

“You don’t got’ to pull like that…” he groaned.

“You gon’ let me do my job?” You raise an eyebrow, “You’ being irritating. I’m not the one who came over ten at night, Onyankopon. You’ got somewhere to be?”

He smacked his lips again, “I was just sayin’...“

In truth, he wasn't trying to leave your place immediately—he wanted to be around you. You always seemed to know exactly where to touch him. That, and your perfume always made his head spin.

"You gon' tell me who you dating, or you got a line of niggas?" He countered, his gaze meeting yours through the mirror.

“Nobody at the moment. I’ve been too busy with work,” you reply shyly, finishing up his first braid with a tight end, moving on to the second patch of hair, “My male clients usually have girlfriends—who want to be on the phone the entire time to watch me,” you chuckle.

“So that means you ain’t gon’ give me no love?” He grinned, reaching a hand behind him to press against your thigh, squeezing it gently. Your entire body shivered at his warm palm along your skin, the hand nearly wrapping against your entire leg.

"A nigga just want to talk to you, be on you. You be’ all shy and shit," he grumbled, "Maybe I will find another braider for real, yo' ass stay bein' mean to me."

You giggle at his touch, even if it makes you nervous—maybe a little horny. You smacked his hand away, “So you flirt with all the people that work for you? That’s what I’m getting from this.”

“Nah. Just you,” he replied without missing a beat, a confident smile on his face. “C’mon, say somethin’.”

You didn’t even need to look into the mirror to know he was staring at you—that alone made your insides twist.

A loud sigh left your lips as you shook your head, “You’re gonna mess around and get yo’ feelings hurt. I’m just doing your hair, Onyankopon. You’ll have thousands of girls to choose from at your show tomorrow.”

“We ain’t talking about them. We talkin’ about you.”

He wanted you to look at him. But he knew you wouldn’t do such a thing until you finished his hair.

So he relented, pulling out his phone to check his messages—there wasn’t much to see, though. A silence had become between the two of you, comforted by the music playing in the back. His fans had been bombarding his team for the past few days, ever since the news of his new album came out. And, sure, he’d be surrounded by girls tomorrow. But those girls weren’t going to be you.

“You gon’ be at my show since you know about it now, right?”

You were now on the fourth braid, pulling his head back a bit to look at his face. Your eyes narrow, almost having the urge to roll them as you say, “You know I don’t have a ticket, Ony. I’ll watch it after it’s posted.”

He looked up to see the scowl on your face, a laugh escaping his lips, “Don’t even worry about all that. I don’t want you watchin’. I need you there.”

When you reach out to knock the side of his head, he catches your wrist, bringing it to his lips to plant a sloppy kiss there. Your heart hammered beneath your chest, an unsteady thump resounding through your ribcage.

“You smoked before you got here?” You question, “You’ real touchy—feely today.”

He grinned in reply, “Nah I didn’t, maybe you’ just real fine today. Every day.”

He was laying it on thick. The worst part? That it might’ve been working. You’re now on the final braid, your body unfortunately hot, and a throb between your legs at the sight of him. He was murmuring the music to himself, his deep voice now ringing in your ears.

“You want me to line you up after I’m done braiding, or are you gonna do it yourself? I bought new clippers,” you ask softly, fingers swiftly pulling his hair into a neat bind.

He looked at your reflection, watching as your fingers moved swiftly through his hair. The feeling was pleasant, the sound of your voice even more so.

“You always do it fine, so yeah,” he murmured.

The next time you’d reach for his hair, he’d stop you—his hand cupping your wrist to bring it down to his chest.

“I appreciate you, you know that right?” His voice was low, but you could still hear the sincerity beneath his words. He was staring at you now, his eyes warm.

You blink a bit at his words, and the sincerity makes you smile innocently.

“I know that,” you nod, “I’m glad you trust me enough to keep coming back.”

His free hand came to cup the side of your cheek, feeling your soft skin beneath his tough palm, "You got some soft skin," he murmured as he stroked your cheek. His thumb lightly brushed your lips, "Pretty lips too, y'know that?"

Your heart is hammering in your chest at this point. He’s fine, full lips moisturized, goatee and facial hair aligned perfectly along his face, jaw structure deadly for him to have his hair braided back. His brown skin was clear—fucking hell.

You give a nervous laugh as you try to pull yourself back, “…You’ still got one more braid, Ony.”

"You sure you wanna keep going?" He questioned, "You lookin' like you want something else right now."

Your mouth parts a bit at his words, but quickly closes as you try to figure out your reply. You then say, “Yeah, I’m almost finished. I know you’re getting antsy in my chair,” you pull yourself back behind him, quickly maneuvering into finishing off his final braid.

He had to give it to you—you were hard to crack. But that didn’t mean you were good at hiding it. You watch his face become more serious than you’d ever seen, it’s a mixture of something—admiration, lust, need.

"Yeah, aight. Line my shit up. We gon’ talk.”

You can feel your nerves bundling at the pit of your stomach as you finish off—a tension now palpable in the air. Clippers buzz along his hairline as you lean yourself close to his chest to get a good angle, your body feeling warm as you’re close to him—you adjust yourself as you softly say, “…Sorry.”

��Nah, you good. Come closer,” is what he says instead, reaching a hand out to grasp your thigh. He grips you gently, but firmly, to get you closer to him. You’re in between his legs now, which he spreads a bit further so you can settle in.

Your hands are trembling. You usually had no issues with this part of your service, but the tension was becoming heavier second by second. You exhale a bit, breathless in your nervous giggle as you confirm, “I’m gonna put some oil on once I’m done—loosen up your braids a bit, okay?”

“Take your time,” he murmurs, voice smooth and low.

Slowly but surely, he begins to rub his hand back and forth against your thigh. Eventually, it begins to move towards the inside of your thigh, rubbing at the flesh there. You bite your lip, trying to fight back the desire to whimper.

“You’ quiet now, what’s up with that?”

He’s really getting to you. The simple touch makes your eyes want to roll back. You admit, “Just tryna’ focus while you’re being distracting.”

“I ain’t done nothin’ but rub on you, you’ really that sensitive?”

His lips brush the side of your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck. “How I look, mama?”

You wanna pull back from him, but you’re unable to. You quickly snatch the clippers back as you sit them on the small table beside the chair, giving him a warning look as you caution, “Ony.”

“Why you sayin’ my name like that?” he grunts, fingers gripping the back of your thigh, holding you there.

“C’mere—Lemme’ taste you.”

You breath hitches at his words, and your mouth is only centimeters from his. Your hand finds its way to the fabric of his shirt, gripping the cotton fiber as your voice is weak, “C’mon, Ony. Stop playing.”

His eyes are hooded at this point, “Who playin’?”

His mouth captures your bottom lip, slowly dragging it between his teeth. You actually whimper at the feeling, your thighs squeezing together beneath your shorts. Pulling you fully onto his lap, he kisses you, not letting you pull away as he cups the back of your head to keep you there. His tongue is rough inside of your mouth, a satisfying hum heavy against your lips as he makes out with you.

You’re shuddering against his mouth, a frown pulled at your eyebrows at how good his kiss is. It makes your entire body thrum, clutching the material of his shirt even tighter. It’s like you’re having an orgasm—all he’d done was kiss you.

The heat of his skin, the smell of his cologne is all intoxicating. He’s pulling your head back so that he can kiss your throat. His lips are smooth as he’s sucking the skin—your body feels like jelly.

Your hand clutches the side of his neck, “W—Wait Ony…mmph,” ” you pant.

When his mouth comes back down to meet yours, he kisses you deeper, groaning into your mouth. You attempt to keep him in one place, but you know you don't have the strength to keep him from having his way with you.

You gasp softly as he tugs up your baby tee, brown nipples dropping straight into his mouth the moment he drags his tongue out to catch them. Your eyes lock down to the way his mouth moves—it’s effortless.

You’re latching along his hair, trembling above him as you suck air down your throat, “T—They’re s—sensitive…” he’s lapping your breast into his mouth, your skin becoming hot on his taste buds.

“Got a nigga acting greedy as fuck.”

He’s almost mad at the sight, sucking harshly and letting your nipples drop out his mouth, milliseconds later catching your entire breast back in between his full lips. The skin is starting to bruise, your legs squeezing against his lap as a deep relaxation comes over you, a warming tingle in your spine.

You were writhing on top of him, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly as he sucked and nibbled on your nipples— you’re trembling, “Oh god... oh fuck..." you’re panting as if you’d run a marathon, biting your lip as you felt yourself growing wetter and wetter between your legs, “Don’t…stop…”

His mouth was almost aggressive at this point, a loud popping sound leaving his lips each time he pulled away. The music within the room is dousing your brain.

His voice was low and raspy, "You look’ soooo muhfuckin' sexy right now. Take all this shit off. Need you naked as fuck.”

He reaches down between the both of you, pressing his palm against the front of your shorts, the contact making you whimper as he groans, “Ooh shit, pussy drenching them shorts—I know that shit glistening all pretty. Nasty ass bitch,” The heat continuously develops in between your legs, wetness creating more and more by the second.

He starts rubbing his hand against you, back and forth, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit. It’s making your head spin, your hips move with his hand, whining softly as he starts kissing you again, lips soft against yours, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth.

Dark brown eyes stare into yours, his expression serious—intense. You jump as he slams his palm down on your ass, grunting, “Up,” your body complying as you stand halfway above him to remove your shorts, allowing your top to quickly follow— you’re now completely naked on his lap.

He’s nothing like you had before. With that, he dips his hands in between your legs to pull you back up in a standing position against the chair, palms locked against the back of your thighs as he scoots himself lower, tugging your body down so quickly that your entire pussy rubs against his jaw.

A mixture between a deep chuckle and groan comes from his mouth as he’s already running his tongue chaotically against your clit. Your lower lip drops open as you gasp, pressing yourself into his arm to not fall, riding his face within the air.

His mouth was a mess as he grinds you down on his tongue, so deep in between your folds that he’s tasting himself. His tongue was strong, heavy, eyes closed as if your body was a rarity. Onyankopon’s facial hair was coated, dripping against your thighs as he eats you out. He was being lazy with it, almost too comfortable within the chair, hands digging into the back of your thighs as he forced himself deeper, nose pushing against your mound. He was choking on your pussy—but he was enjoying every single bit of it.

“Oh— my g—god!” you pant out, gasping in between, “Ony…ohshi—Ony!…” he’s bouncing you against his face, using his free hand to spank the skin of your ass, flesh shaking in his palm. You’re losing nerves in your brain, dropping your face down as you whimper, “You’ in my pussy, baby…fuck…”

“‘Could tell you ain’t never had a nigga eat you like this—shit a muhfuckin’ delicacy, I’m just slurping this shit the fuck up—fuckin’ love this shit," he said, moaning it, slurping, slurping, his voice was almost like a murmur, "Fuckkk, imma’ have you squirting on this big ass dick."

Onyankopon was growling against your clit, a wet noise coming from his lips as he sucked on you, his mouth covered at this point. His hands were grabbing at your thighs, spreading them apart so he could see your juices rolling down the skin.

There was a rhythm to it—his mouth moved like a metronome as if he were making a song, a steady beat as he eats you out.

He was almost high from the taste, his mouth watering as he lapped up everything you were giving him. His chin was daubed, tongue flicking up to catch a bit of the spit as he was using it to lubricate your pussy, trying to make it easier for his tongue to slide inside. Again, again.

His tongue is long, rolling around from the bottom of your entrance all the way up to your clit. He's eating you like he loves you, mouth open, tongue sloppy, just groaning, licking—you’re feeling faint.

He was making a mess of your pussy.

Your eyes are rolling at this point, a discomfort beginning to form in your legs from the way you’re hovered above him. But it’s all so good—you’re spinning. Shaking. Trembling. All of the above.

“Ony….I t—think I’m cumming,” you softly cry, beginning to rotate your hips in a circle along his face as you weakly whine, grasping a hold of his hair as you whimper, “I—I’m c—cumming…”

“I hear that gushy ass pussy, that bitch singing to me.”

At that second—you hear yourself gush against his face, squeezing your thighs against his head, body shuddering like a harsh chill had taken a marathon against your spine. You’re robbed of time to come down from the orgasm, Onyankopon pulling you back down to sit along his lap as he grunts, “Come pull this dick out.”

You whimper in response, dipping your fingers into his pants nonetheless. Your acrylics graze against the hefty weight of his tip you feel for—and it’s big.

You’re pulling, pulling for more than two seconds, watching as it slaps a little over his belly button. Dark pink, a beautiful brown matching his complexion. Your eyes widen a bit, the gasp your throat that wanted to release now caught in his palm as he’s holding you by your neck.

He tugs you forward, “Spit in my fuckin’ mouth.”

He’s nasty. You pull him into a sloppy kiss, letting your saliva run against the tip of your tongue, meeting with his mouth that makes him glare at you, “Freaky ass lil’ bitch, huh? I’m finna’ do you in witcho’ pretty ass. Come sit on this shit.”

“Too big, Ony…” you whimpered before you thought about your words, knowing he was already arrogant.

And you weren’t wrong for thinking that. His mouth twists in amusement against the shell of your ear, hand rubbing along the curve of your ass before smacking it, “You either gon’ bend over so I can watch my dick go in and out this pretty ass pussy, or sit that shit on me.”

Your eyes glance back down—his dick was standing straight up, swollen at the tip, thick veins running across the shaft, and a toned belly for you to grip onto. But you knew he wasn’t repeating himself.

He murmurs, “Go slow, baby. I got you,” easing your anxiety, moving his hand around to the back of your neck, pulling you into the softest kiss he’d given you this entire time.

You adjusted your hips as you rubbed his tip along your folds throughout the kiss, mouth falling open as you whimpered again, his throat humming, nodding gently for you to continue. Your folds stretch apart as you begin sinking down, keeping yourself kissing him to distract from the immediate discomfort you feel. You pull your mouth back slightly to press your forehead against his, also holding the back of his neck as your breathing becomes chaotic, chest heaving a bit as you whisper, “…Oh my…” you suck in a breath, “goddd…” you drag your words so lowly, and he hears every syllable.

“Yeah?” He grunts, “Why you’ squeezing’ my shit like that?”

He’s cooing to you. His balls slap lightly against the weight of your ass, hearing the slick of your pussy as he pulls you back up. Onyankopon dips his fingers into your mouth, coating them before he lowers his hand to massage your bruised walls for a millisecond, making it easier to push his dick back in.

He helps ease you back down, fingers rubbing at the back of your hips as he drops you fully down his length. Your eyes clamped shut as you cried out, eyes rolling as you dragged out a whine, “Onyyy…” all while he sucked on the spot between your neck and collarbone, moaning into it to keep you open.

You pull your face back to meet him, keeping your foreheads connected as he begins raising you halfway up, dragging you back down, dick disappearing between your thighs. Your arousal is splattering in between your skin stuck together, ripping apart each time you’re pulled back up, clapping as you come back down.

“This all you needed, needed this pussy played with. Shit pretty as fuck. Makin’ art on my dick.”

He was getting used to the rhythm, leaning his head back against the seat to look at you. His hands were planted on the back of your thighs, the muscles rippling as he helped pull you back up before slamming you back down, his mouth open, eyes half-lidded.

He was watching you—The way you were crying out, the way you were cursing him out, the way you were begging for more, and the way you were fighting for breath.

He was watching it all—taking it all in. You were perfect.

Each time you protested, “Babyyyy,” he tugged you down harder, the pressure rubbing against your pussy, the warmth of it making you shudder. He’s talking, “I hear you, Mama. Fuck, you drenching my shit.”

His hands were firm against your hips, helping to guide you up and down. He was almost wrestling you, a dominant nature he had coming out the longer he fucked you. Your ass is applauding against his thighs, breasts bouncing, your mouth releasing breathless sounds you’d never heard before. It makes you feel like those final nerves within your brain were no more, wrapping your arms around his neck as you let him take you—pouting as you talk to him, “This your pussy baby…” you whine, softly crying, mewling the words to him. You’re making promises.

“That’s how you feelin’?”

He slides his palm against your asscheek, gripping the skin there as he moves his index finger over your hole, the feeling making you tense. You lean yourself forward a bit as he’s nudging the tip of it into you, using the rest of his fingers to keep you bouncing down. You whimper deeply, the pleasure and pain knocking you every which way as he’s filling you up in both places—he was trying to kill you.

Nonetheless, you keep yapping, “Your fuckin’ pussy, Daddy…gonna come to your show…”

You drag your tongue along his neck, sucking there petulantly as you look down, seeing as you cream on his length, coating the shaft white. You’re so horny, even if he was fucking you at this exact moment.

“No you not. Finna’ be sleep all day after this,” he grunts, “You creamin’ on my shit. Pretty as fuck.”

His hand wraps around the back of your neck to pull you down for another heated kiss, sucking the taste of yourself off your tongue. His other hand held you by the hip, moving you faster, finger thrusting in your hole deeper.

He’s strong—in lost time, he stands from the chair as he places your legs over his shoulders, taking a step forward to place you right along the mirror you used to show your clients their finished hairstyle. He was tugging at your neck, making sure you were locked in his arms as he began dropping you on his dick, making you squeal, a moan spilling from your lips as you whine, "Oh shittttt.”

“Look at you, fuckin’ bad girl. Yeah, look at me, look at you, look at that shit gushing for me.”

He was pounding you from the bottom, his balls slapping between your folds, your arousal making the sound reverberate through the room. A feeling you never felt before surrounded your aura, a pleasure so good that you felt emotional, your eyes beginning to form tears as you suck in a breath, releasing as you sobbed, “Ugnh, fuck.”

He’s fucking you so hard that the mirror across began steaming up, showing only a faint outline of your body. You flick over to it, seeing the strawberry tresses of your hair sticking to your face, your expression ruined.

Your mouth was dangerous as you writhed, “Ony,” a way that was close to a shout, talking through each thrust, “Love. This. Dick. Baby…”

His mouth came to yours to stifle the sounds, hand clamped around the back of your neck. His teeth were scraping your lips, his tongue slipping inside to fight yours as he’s pounding you in place, the sensation making you shake.

"You gon' cum? Gonna squirt all over his dick? Pussy gettin’ tight as fuck…damn…” he groans, locking his eyes down to see himself go in and out, in and out, in…and out.

“Gonna squirt all over you,” you sniffle in a small gasp, unaware of your own mouth at this moment, “Harder—please…”

His mouth was a mess, tongue thick and long, lapping against your neck and collarbone, sucking the skin there, his mouth wide open, slurping the taste of you up. He squeezed your hips so hard that you were crying out. He was slamming himself into you, a groan of pleasure spilling from his lips as he buried his face against your throat, sucking it up as he grunted, “Finna’ have you at every fuckin’ show. Up in the private rooms, gon’ fuck you after every song.”

You’re gone, becoming entirely silent as your eyes are filled with tears that wouldn’t stop, nodding your head to every word as you hold onto him. The silence, listening to the sounds of your skin coming together in music, a sound rips from your throat before you could realize—pure bliss, a scream projecting out as you squirt, the arousal spouting, pushing him far enough for his tip to now be halfway in. Your body feels exhausted, eyes back into staring inside your head as you cum.

And it broke him, he was moaning into your throat—mouth open, eyes closed, pulling himself out as his tip rubbed against your inner thigh, cumming against the warm skin. Your body was tired, exhausted, satisfied.

You struggled to keep yourself wrapped along his neck. As the both of you caught your breath, you brought your eyes up to him, using the last bit of strength you had to give him a soft peck against his lips. Onyankopon couldn’t help himself—You looked so pretty at this moment, yet the innocent kiss makes him chuckle lowly, holding you up more as he questions, “You aight’?”

You press your face within his neck as you murmur, “Mhm,” your eyes feeling heavy, “Don’t think imma’ make your show, Ony…” you pout sleepily.

He laughs at how cute you were being—it’s a stark difference from your usual reserved demeanor.

“It’s straight, baby. You’ll be on my mind the moment I get there—that’s fasho.’”

He pecks your forehead, “You want me to stay tonight?”

Your eyes won’t open at this point. You could figure out the meaning of this moment later. You just wanted to be wrapped in that damn scent of his—tonka bean.

“If you’ actually plan on sleeping, you can stay…”

“Damn, no late night nookie?”

“Onyankopon.”

“My fault. Night, shawty.”

#onyankopon x you #ony smut #onyankopon x reader #onyakapon #onyankopon x black y/n #ony x black reader #onyankopon x black reader smut #onyankopon fluff #onyankapon #aot onyankopon #aot oneshots #attack on titan smut #anime oneshot #onyankopon smut #aot

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bunny-jpeg · 2 days ago

Text

next level

lando norris

request: “Just let me finish this/this level and i swear ill go down on you until you cum at least three times.” w/ Lando Norris 43. “just let me finish this/this level and i swear ill go down on you until you cum at least three times.”

tags: smut/pwp, established relationship, teasing& seduction, video games, cough sex, cowgirl position

eros (the valentine's day collection)

just because it wasn't sim racing, doesn't mean it didn't require lando's full attention. but it was hard to beat the level when his loving, beautiful girlfriend would not get away from the front of the television.

he wouldn't deny it, you were beautiful. but lando had been trying to beat his level for over an hour, and he was so close before you stood in front of the television screen. your arms crossed and your hip cocked slightly to the side. your gaze stayed on him as he tried to see the screen behind you.

"lando... it's eleven-forty. time for bed."

he exhaled and said, “just let me finish this level and i swear ill go down on you until you cum at least three times.” his words were promising. but with the season around the corner, the future world champion needed his rest. and you knew exactly how to get him settle for the evening.

he breathed a sigh of relief when you moved away from the television and towards him on the couch, you were pressed right up against him and pushed back his curls. you chuckled lowly and he tensed up a little.

"honey. baby. please." he said.

"i'm not doing anything. you wanted to keep playing, then keeping playing." your hand trailed across his clothed chest, you added a little pressure when your thumb grazed his nipples. sensitive spot. you were breaking out all the stops for this.

you touched his skin and he tried to navigate the level, he could feel the tightness in his sweatpants from your tender touches. his focus was split between the difficulty of the level and when you were going to do next. hard to say what you were going to do, your expression was unreadable.

"honey." he said.

"focus, lando." you cooed before your hand dipped lower and you grasped his hardening cock through his sweatpants. you chuckled lightly to yourself as you watched him squirm. trying his best to focus.

you could see the muscles of his neck move as he swallowed, the feeling was getting in his head. it was cute, to see him squirm. but he was so determined to finished this level. you were just providing moral support!

"oh shit, right there." he muttered as he missed the jump in the level and had to restart. you rubbed his cock through his sweatpants and you watched him squirm a little. his length throbbed under your touch and you smiled a little. how cute.

you chuckled lightly and continued to tease his cock, you watched him struggle and admired the sight of him. he looked sweet as he tried to fight back the pleasure that coursed through him. you watched him fail the level again and again and once more before he threw the controller to the side and grabbed you.

"come here." he said as he pulled you close to him. he got you up in his lap with his hands in your sweatpants and under your underwear. he kept his gaze on you as he rubbed your slit against his talented fingers.

"someone's needy." you remarked with a small laugh. you took him by the face and pulled him in for a hot kiss. he groaned against your lips as you rubbed yourself up against him. it felt beautiful, you felt like a dream.

when he pulled away, he looked up at you and remarked, "well, i think i just had a revelation. your hot pussy is a lot better than video games." then continued to rub your clit before you got your bottoms off.

your wetness rubbed against the fabric of his grey sweatpants. you felt the curl of excitement through you as the two of you moved against each other on the couch. you rubbed up against each other and it left you both feeling hotter.

his hands gripped your bare ass he looked up at you, there was a lustful twinkle in his eye and you smiled down at him. he looked good under you. he gave you ass a light slap, "fuck you're hot."

you held him by his cheeks and said, "and you're hotter when you're not wasting your evening on video games." then kissed him once more before you got his cock out of his sweatpants. you rubbed yourself up against his leaky length before you sank yourself on him.

"lando. fuck." you exhaled.

he moaned into the next kiss and held you tighter, helped you onto him. you took him beautifully, he slipped in without much struggle. and it only made him relax against the couch a little more. it was a hot feeling, you made a fire burn inside of him with each of your slow thrusts.

you held onto his shoulders and moved your body. your worked yourself on his cock as you kept kissing him. heavy breathing and small moans filled the living room air underneath the loud sound of the video game's music. he held on tightly and guided you up and down his cock. the two of you seemed to move at a similiar pace with no words spoken.

he understood you and you understood him. when you broke away from the kiss, the two of you gazed at one another. lando soon buried his face between your clothed breasts and groaned, "fuck, that feels good. right there, fuck, baby." he shuddered from the intense pleasure of it all.

he felt like a fool for ignoring you, but thankful that you were determined. because with your slick cunt around his cock, the pleasure felt better than any stress of the game. he groaned once more into your chest and you pulled his hair a little.

"see." you said, "should've just come to bed. got all comfy under the covers and let me ride you until you saw stars. i know i'm better than that stupid game, and i'm glad i could make you see the error of your ways." your voice was cheeky and lando just groaned against you.

"you're right, you're right." he panted.

it was no secret that lando loved your pussy, he loved having sex with you. you could recall when he was on the road and he was near begging for photos of you. not even nudes. just something to tide him over until he could smother himself in your love. to him you were divine and he wanted to bask in your holiness.

the two of you continued to move together under the bright light of the television screen. it was late in the evening, you two should be in bed. and while having sex on the couch wasn't your ideal location for fucking, it still felt nice.

lando's cock was snug inside of you and it made you toes curl from the pleasure. the thrumming of your heart while you moved against him left you panting and lustful for the man you had your arms wrapped around. you kissed him once more, moans were shared and you felt the pleasure rise in your body like steam over hot water.

at least lando could admit that it felt better. to fuck you was a treat that he indulged himself in and as he moved harder against you, he wanted more. you moaned into the kiss and he gripped your ass once more before he wrapped both arms around your middle tightly. it gave him better leverage to fuck you with.

your noises got hotter and more needy, the lust was intense in your core. the two of you moved quickly against one another as the pull of orgasm drew closer. you whined, he panted when the kiss was broken. you were both needy for one another.

"i'm close." you whined.

he held on tightly and said, "then cum for me. c'mon, fuck. i need it. cum for me and i'll spend the rest of the night eating out that fucking beautiful pussy until you can't cum anymore." his breathing was heavy.

you dug your nails into his back and with a few more thrusts of your hip, you finished on his cock. when you slowed down, lando worked up into you faster. your noises were higher pitched and the feeling radiated through you.

he came soon after with his face between your chest. he tensed up for a moment as he came then relaxed. he panted against your soft t-shirt as he relaxed a little bit. he shakily exhaled and pulled his head away, "wow."

you chuckled and kissed him gently on the lips, "i know. i guess it's time for bed." you winked at him.

lando reached for the control, "one more try of the level... then i'll go bed." he booted the game up again with his semi-hard cock still inside of you.

you gave him a death glare. next time, you promised yourself, you'd drag him by the ears to bed if you had to. <3

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arkhamsbrat · 1 day ago

Text

jason todd is never going to admit that he is an extremely jealous man. that’d scare you off and he knows it. but he cant help that his left eye twitches when your friend calls you. he hears a deep voice on the line and he just stares.

its not that he doesnt trust you, but he does fear the day that you realize he isnt enough for you. too damaged, too brooding, too mean. it all boils down to not wanting to be replaced.

the jealousy calms down (slightly) when you turn to him with an smile and roll your eyes playfully. “drama queen!” you mouth while pointing at your phone. jason chuckles silently and lays his head in your lap, studying you while you speak.

your hands instinctively move to comb through his hair, finding your own comfort in the movement. his feelings are well hidden, he thinks. but you can see it in his eyes. the pretty blue orbs cloud over, wheels turning behind them at a speed you couldn’t match.

when your friend finally hangs up, you set your phone to the side and cup his cheeks with both hands. “y’okay?” he grumbled as his arms snaked around your waist. “nothin’ you gotta worry about.” there it was. “i’m your girlfriend, that’s like the whole point.”

if he was honest with you, you may run. hide from him somewhere he’d never pull you back out of. he couldn’t lose this, lose you. after years he’s finally found something to feel safe in- someone. but he couldn’t keep pushing you. he could see it in your eyes any time he swept his own feelings under the rug and locked you out of his mind.

he huffed, pausing for a moment before finally opening up with a mumble. “i dont like sharin’… just wanna keep y’to myself.” you hum and nod, waiting for him to continue. “‘s hard. everyone loves you, everyone wants your attention. just wanna keep you in my pocket.”

he scans over you, waiting for the snap- for you to get up and run. it doesn’t come. you kiss his forehead and shoot him a comforting smile.“thank you for telling me that, baby… am i doing enough for you?” it was just like you to start trying to fix it for the both of you. what else was he supposed to expect from you other than kindness?

“you’re doin’ enough, don’t worry about that, it’s just…” he drones off, not sure how to explain it. your finger taps his forehead gently. “all up here?” he nods once. “y’aren’t the only one who gets jealous, jayce.”

“it’s different.” he pouts, its adorable. “you… you’re not-” your hands cup his cheeks, forcing him to look up at you. “gonna stop you there. isnt different, and you don’t get to keep playing the ‘you aren’t broken’ card. you’re allowed to feel jealous and not feel like a monster.” he gives you a silent nod, still moping. “should i feel like a monster every time some girl looks at you while we’re out?” that was the first time you’ve admitted it, and honestly? you’d prefer he got cocky over you being jealous. he shook his head. “when it comes to us, if you wouldn’t be pissed at me doing it, don’t be pissed at yourself.”

there was a long road ahead, but he’s worth it. he’s worth it all.

#— bambi posting #jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #i want to communicate with him… i yearn for healthy communication with jason…….#fucking him about being jealous? NO. communicating like an adult………. slowly working towards making him feel more comfortable…..#but also jealousy sex

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sc0tters · 2 days ago

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Loved You Forever | Luke Hughes

summary: four times you and luke knew you both wanted more, the one time a move was made, and the one time you both actually remembered it.

request: yes/no

warnings: underaged drinking (if you're american), minimal swearing.

word count: 6.16k

authors note: happy February loves! I realised that this might have been a better valentines day piece but too late? I am actually in love with this piece though and it was seriosuly so much fun to do another 5+1 thing and I'm pretty sure that this is my first proper attempt at it. I am nothing but a slut for best friends to lovers with Luke! After the loss tonight I think we all deserved something sweet so I also think this might be one of my first attempts at tooth rooting of sweet?

Luke had been in your life for as long as you could have remembered.

The two of you met during a day at the park, you had been desperate to be on the seesaw but as your siblings got caught up with Jack and Quinn it left you alone, sat on the one side all by yourself “can I join?” Luke asked pointing at the seat that was in the air.

A grin spread across your face “you wanna sit with me?” You asked almost not believing him “yeah you seem sad.” It seemed that it was all it took for your friendship to be formed.

Hours were spend on that seesaw over the autumn months as you got to know him. You were no longer the sad lonely girl to him, now you were the fun and chatty one who had a dog.

𝟏

You had been a bundle of nerves the entire week.

In the week leading up to prom your dress was in need of alterations and your date had decided that going with the captain of the cheer team was far better suited to his taste than you. Your curling iron had also decided the morning of prom that it was going to stop working.

So while you felt like the world was against you, Luke decided to step him. He had gotten Ellen to drop off a brand new one courtesy of him of course, with a note saying that he couldn’t want to see you that night.

The moment that he learnt about you no longer having a date he changed his own plans, well first he actually did a happy dance because now you were single which he appreciated. But then he told the hockey boys that he was breaking from the pact of going as a group. At first they all gave him stick, but when they learnt it was for you they understood.

Because even if you were totally off limits and so clearly Luke’s girl, they all had eyes as a hormonal teen boy. And you were a total package.

So that was how Luke ended up on what was a date but didn’t feel like it because he felt like your second choice, even if he had never been the one to ask you in the first place. Gosh he had seen all of the cringey proposals online but he knew you would have loved one of those. Something to laugh about afterwards that could be cherished as a memory forever.

Jim placed his hand on Luke’s shoulder pulling him out of this thoughts “you okay bud?” He asked cocking his head as he furrowed his eyebrows “I’m good.” Luke nodded “just worried about the time.” It was a lie but it was enough to take the attention off of him and his thoughts.

Your mom looked at her watch “y/n are you coming down anytime soon!” She called up the stairs fearing that you’d end up late and miss the limo that your friends had arranged after pictures.

You turned down your music as you rolled your eyes. In your opinion you weren’t late, just pulling everything out of your drawers because you couldn’t find the perfect earrings to go with your dress “yeah, yeah I’ll be down there!” You yelled back focusing on what you were doing.

Luke stood between his parents and yours “sorry about her.” Your mom apologised as she softly shook her head, knowing that this was how you were “it’s okay I mean she’s.” Luke was lucky he was cut off because it meant that he didn’t have to come up with an end to his statement.

“I’m ready!” Your words traveled down to the group causing all of their heads to turn to your bedroom door. You were right by the top of the staircase so there wasn’t much of a walk for you before your dress was revealed in all its glory “wow.” Luke thought he had said it softly enough for nobody to hear. But the smile on Jim’s face said it all, he knew his son was in love as he watched you twirl all excited for him to finally see the dress.

The red dress hugged every part of your body that you wanted it to. And now with the alterations your slit showed the right amount of leg, it was enough to look hot but not enough to the point where the dress wouldn’t have been appropriate for a high school prom.

Luke felt his throat grow dry seeing you at the top of the stairs, with a smile painted on your face. You looked gorgeous, in every sense of the word as you radiated this glow that encapsulated your body.

His hands grew sweaty, gripping at your corsages packaging. Watching you walk down the stairs, the sounds of your mom in awe with your dad taking pictures turned to background noise. Luke couldn’t understand how you were panicking about your hairstyle to him at lunch all week, because it seemed like it was made for you.

You stopped on the final step holding your hand out to Luke, enjoying the moment of him in his navy blue suit. It was easy to see that he had just had his hair cut, but you weren’t going to make a comment about it as you appreciated the effort.

Sure you wouldn’t have cared if Luke showed up in jeans and his crocs, but he knew how important the night was to you so he made it important to him. His hand was soft against yours as he helped you down the final step “you look-” he cut himself off, opting to take the chance to bask in your beauty once more.

It made you rub your lips together nodding in agreement “you too.” The sight made Ellen place her hand on her heart. Her youngest son here stood tall and all cleaned up, in front of the girl that his parents wished he’d date.

Luke let out a soft gasp remembering that he was still holding your corsage “this is yours.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously, hoping you’d like it “it’s so pretty Lukey.” You held the plastic container in your hands pulling out the pink arrangement.

You handed it back to him “put it on f’me will ya?” You asked watching him nod “sure.” He obliged your request seeing how pretty it looked with your manicured nails.

Your eyes shone looking at it “it’s perfect.” You confessed leaning up to kiss his cheeks “thanks, Lukey.” You gave his arms a squeeze before you settled back in front of him.

He prayed his cheeks didn’t betray him as they felt warm “anytime.” Luke honestly would have done anything to bring that smile out and for you to kiss his cheeks again. Even as he hoped he’d be lucky to kiss you properly one day, he prayed that this wasn’t the last time he’d get to feel one of your kisses.

𝟐

Your high school graduation was not what you expected it to be. Sure you expected to be a little emotional leaving the place that had helped shape you into the person you were set to become. It was the place where Luke cemented his life long place as your best friend.

You held your diploma in your hand as you searched through the crowd for him “y/n!” Luke cheered causing you to whip around.

His smile matched yours as you let out a squeal before you ran into his arms. You almost knocked him over as you laughed “someone’s excited ‘eh?” He let out a soft laugh settling you back on your feet.

He had spent a portion of his afternoon wishing he told you how pretty you looked “I mean how can I not be we have like properly graduated.” If you looked back at the memory now you would have laughed, you felt so prepared for the big world when in actuality you were still so young with so much more growing to do.

Luke smiled “I mean we always knew you were going to.” Brains had always been your thing, much more than Lukes at least.

You looked at the athletics band around his shoulders “and you got this.” You toyed with the ends of it in your hands “I think we both should be proud today.” You had succeeded in your own fields, reminding each other why you did so well as friends because you were so different.

Luke could see that something else was on your mind “what is it?” He asked, seeing that there was a glimmer of excitement like you were trying to hold back a bomb of importance. You felt like a child who had been trying their best to hold off on telling the secret they promised their parents that they would keep to themselves.

You pulled the grad cap off of your head as you took in a deep breath “remember how I told you that I wasn’t sure where I was going because of those scholarship applications?” You were the more academically inclined out of the two of you, to the extent that you did have a good chance to get some scholarships.

This was why you hadn’t decided where exactly you were going, so Luke hadn’t been told of any of the places that had accepted you. This was the first and last time that you were ever going to be holding a secret from him, the last few weeks felt like your very own definition of torture “so you remember how we applied to some of the same schools?” You asked, reminding him that three schools appeared on both of your lists.

He nodded, raising his eyebrows and urging you to continue, “well one of those schools was UMich, and I got in.” Luke let out a gasp, knowing exactly where this conversation was about to go “yes?” He urged you to carry on so he didn’t celebrate prematurely.

You rubbed your lips together “well how do you feel about getting an apartment roomie?” It had been a conversation since you were both eight years old, if you went to uni together, then you were going to be roommates to some degree.

Luke finally allowed himself to cheer as he pulled you into a hug. He spun you around as he let himself celebrate the news “I can’t believe that we are staying together.” He was honestly in shock as he finally placed you back on the ground.

In the distance stood your mom and Ellen, who watched the interaction unfold in front of them “I wonder if this is what they need to take a step forward.” Everyone but the two of you knew about the undeniable feelings between you both. They knew it was asking for a lot, though, because you two had been around each other for so long that maybe it just wasn’t meant to be and maybe that was okay.

Ellen smiled as she watched Luke grab your hand before he pulled you into a group of people “I think that maybe they are only going to be friends.” She let out a sigh as the words left her lips. Boy did she hope that the two of you proved her wrong.

𝟑

Luke had yet to come down from the high that was being drafted to the same team as Jack. He was absolutely ecstatic and having you there too was the perfect moment for him. His family had all come along and they mixed with his friends, every one of his supporters were in that room.

He almost got emotional when he thought about it because none of you had to come, not to the bar afterwards and not to the draft itself either. But when his name was called by the New Jersey Devils Luke just remembered pulling you into this hug as Jack hit his back in excitement.

You were his absolute best friend and world so it was never a surprise that Luke hugged you first but still fans had been going on about how Luke basically blanked his future teammate at first. People who followed Luke’s days at Michigan knew who you were, if someone listened to Luke talk for long enough you were brought up in a conversation. And it wasn’t that it was weird for him but it was because you did everything with him so away from the ice, you were attached to every memory.

But for the people who hadn’t paid attention, you were the mystery girlfriend in their eyes. So you were also now the new target of everyone’s Instagram searches. Their comments to you saying they wished they were Luke’s girlfriend made you laugh, because you felt the same way. His name had been circled with hearts in the corners of your notebook pages. They were left in the math and English books because you knew that was where Luke would never have looked.

Luke would never have admitted it aloud but he knew whenever you weren’t in a room. The sound of your laugh burning at his ears, how you seemed to radiate this sense of light and warmth that could be felt through the room. He had been caught up in a conversation with his parents friends when he had lost that feeling.

It was clear to them that Luke had his mind somewhere else, or well they knew it was with someone else so they let him go. You were nowhere to be seen as his eyes scanned the crowded bar “she’s out front I think Lukey!” Jack slurred his words clearly drunk but still knowing all too predictable his younger brother was.

Luke felt his cheeks grow warm as his eyes went wide “relax dude, just go to her.” Jack laughed as he rolled his eyes, not caring about it before he went off again.

He tried to make it subtle to anyone who watched but Luke headed straight for the door where he of course found you. You were still in his devils cap as he put it on you when he finished his media interviews. An awful attempt at a joke was made when he said that you could be a player now too.

It looked so good on you as he smiled “there you are.” It was like a weight off of his shoulders when he found you.

You were in your own little world before you looked at him “shouldn’t you be inside?” You asked as you cocked your head “this is a party for you after all.” Luke rolled his eyes, turning the cap around so that he could see your face not covered by the lid of the cap.

He leaned against the wall next to you “I wanted to be with you though.” You blushed at the words, your hand reached for his “I just wanted a bit of air is all.” You explained putting his mind at ease as he had worried that you were overwhelmed.

You licked your lips “I’m proud of you tonight.” The confession made his ears ring as his head felt fuzzy “all I did was get drafted.” Luke always was one to downplay his achievements, but you never let him succeed.

A laugh escaped from you lips “Lukey you were drafted fourth and to your brothers team.” You reminded him in a duh tone “you’re actually gonna be an NHL player now.” It had been his dream for as long as he could speak, from the moment you turned seven it even had a space on your vision board cementing itself in the right hand corner. That’s how much you knew he was getting into the big leagues.

Luke looked up at the night sky before he let out a sigh “god everything is going to change isn’t it?” He chewed at the inside of his cheek feeling your eyes piercing into his soul.

The words echoed in your ears as you pushed off of the wall before you stood in front of him. Things didn’t need to change, in fact you didn’t want them to.

You smiled as you held your pinky out to him “what is this?” He asked mimicking your movements “a promise that I will always be with you.” Your voice was sweet as you nodded.

Luke knew he was wrong but part of him thought about how beautiful you looked in the light, how kissable your lips looked too “forever and ever?” Luke cocked his head letting a grin spread across his lips.

Your heart throbbed at the thought, you wanted Luke around for all that time and more “forever and ever.” You agreed locking your pinky into his before you both kissed your thumbs.

The gesture seemed small but it was something that you both could agree on. For you and Luke, it meant that the promise was written in the stars as if you had written it on sand. With every passing wave that came in with the tide, the message still stood.

𝟒

Luke hated the fact that he was leaving soon. He knew that his time with you at university was always going to have an expiration date, but he never thought it was going to come so soon.

You two spent all of your life together, often moving within six months of the other. So now if he really was leaving you then it felt like this was the last time.

Your paths had always been one of the same, with both of you never straying far away from the other. Luke had gotten so used to you being around that the only person who he was worried about leaving was you.

Life had always been the y/n and Luke party that he didn’t know how you were going to react if he left you “what’s going on in that mind of yours?” You asked finding him sat by himself.

He smiled seeing you stumble in his direction “I am just thinking.” He confessed watching you sit on his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

A giggle escaped from your lips “ain’t that dangerous.” Those words made him scoff as his eyebrows furrowed.

You seemed so care free in that moment, it made him envy you. How did it all seem so easy for you as he felt like his head was barely above water, drowning with worry “I am kidding.” You rubbed his cheek against your thumb “what are you thinking about?” You asked urging him to let you into his thoughts.

Your hand squeezed his cheek reminding him that you were there for him “what if I don’t make the right call going.” Luke felt that a weight was lifted off of his shoulders letting that confession slip “I think that the universe is going to put you in the best position for you long term.” You truly believed that everything happened for a reason, so if the agent did come and ask Luke to join the devils like you knew they would, then it was the right thing for him.

It seemed that you always knew what to say to him “and what do you think I should do-” Luke hugged you not taking a chance to let him finish “you are going.” You stopped him from trying to hug you.

He raised his eyebrows “I am?” Your tone made him think you were going to be forcing him onto that plane if you had to.

Luke ran his fingers through your hair “y’know I’m happy that you’re going.” Your confession made him furrow his eyebrows “you are?” He cocked his head as he had of course told you all about the possibility of being signed the moment he learnt the agents were coming to Florida.

You nodded sending him a smile “I mean this had been your dream like forever and Jack will be happy to have you there.” Your explanation calmed his heart, practically brushing the worries from his mind “and how do you feel about it?” The two of you were feeling a little more open tonight as you had a bit too much vodka sprite in your system to think clearly.

A sigh escaped your lips “honestly I’m gonna miss you.” It was the first time you actually admitted that “but it makes me so happy that you get to live out your dream.” Your hand ran along his shoulder.

A smile formed on his face “I love you.” He blurted out unaware of the ramifications it could have had “I love you too.” You mumbled kissing his cheek.

Luke frowned knowing that you didn’t acknowledge what he meant, he was in love with you.

𝟓

Christmas with the Hughes family was something that you had always loved. It seemed to be a family tradition for you too as you always seemed to crack a nod to the event.

Selfishly you loved that it was in Michigan, the short drive from campus meant that it was where you spent the first half of your Christmas break. Your parents came down to them and then brought you back home afterwards and it was the perfect little routine.

This Christmas felt particularly refreshing as you had missed Luke, it was the first Christmas since he made the move to New Jersey and it meant that you two were forced to pack everything into the days he had off. Years of perfectly crafted Christmas traditions forced into three days that you usually put into two weeks.

The days felt jam packed not that you or Luke cared, the only time you weren’t with each other was when you went to the bathroom. Nights he had home were spent talking to you until the sun played peek a boo in the curtains.

Christmas night was by far your favourite highlight though, matching sweaters with Luke and eating so much that you were in a food coma. But this year something felt different, you couldn’t put your finger on it and part of you didn’t want to acknowledge it.

You were never one to push out of your comforts and you just assumed that Luke would share the details of his life if he wanted to “will you excuse me for just a sec?” You asked cutting off one of Quinn’s old friends as you saw Luke heading up the stairs.

The boy shot you a smile and motioned to you to go. Nobody ever needed to look hard into the relationship, you looked at Luke like he was the man who made the moon and the stars that sprinkled around the universe. It may not have been the case but he was the light of your universe and the stars of your eyes.

Jack and Quinn couldn’t help but watch, softly elbowing each other as they knew it was only you and Luke up there “think they’re finally gonna do it?” Jack asked sipping at the eggnog from his cup.

Quinn pursed his lips together “I think it’s been a little too long for that.” The captain craved to be proven wrong, this was probably the first and the last time he touch of that really.

You saw Luke on his phone “hey,” your voice was soft wanting to check up on him “oh hi.” Luke smiled turning around to see you.

His phone got tucked into his back pocket “thought you were going to still be downstairs.” He added, having had watched you talk away with that boy most of the recent hour.

But you shook your head “I wanted to check on up on you.” The act was something meant to be innocent, like it always was. Because you cared for him, this was the what you were meant to do, and what you had always done.

It made him smile “look if you want a quiet day tom-” you were almost immediately cut off “I actually just want to spend time with you alone.” Luke explained making your heart feel so full.

You loved the way that he had with words even if you envied him, it made it so much easier falling in love with him “so you wanna stay up here for a bit?” The request made you nod, taking his hand with a squeeze as the two of you took the three step walk to his room.

His door opened letting the mistletoe drop from the frame that was only seen when the lights turned on, causing your eyes to go wide “shit.” Luke grumbled as it sat between the two of you. It was like a sign from the universe, begging for one of you to put it out of its misery.

The mistletoe stood above the two of you, shining like it was sent from the gods to put you both out of your misery “we don’t have to.” Luke felt his jaw go slack, not wanting to make you uncomfortable as you stared up at the leaf fixture “Jack thought it was funny to put it there.” He added remembering how he was actually planning on removing it the night before.

Oh how different that night would have turned out if he had.

A dry laugh left your lips “who are we to go against an age old tradition?” You asked letting your eyes lock onto his “are you sure?” Luke studied how plump your lips were and god he just wanted to kiss them.

You ran your fingers over the knitted fabric that was your Christmas sweater “I feel like I should be asking you that?” You shot back slightly raising your eyebrows as you felt that he was trying to tell you something in a softer way.

Oh god no, he thought to himself shaking his head “I do wanna kiss you!” The panic escaped in his voice, doing little to help his nerves as his heart and mouth betrayed his brain “but only if you want to kiss me too.” The boy straightened his shirt with a cough attempting to block the embarrassment that came over his cheeks.

You smiled with a nod “I wanna kiss you Lukey.” Your head buzzed as you drunk one too many vodka cranberries that night.

His hand cupped your cheek as he nodded “and we agree that this won’t make anything awkward right?” His words made you roll your eyes. Sure you knew he was being cautious and you should have appreciated how much he cared for your feelings, but god you just wanted to kiss him.

So that’s what you did, you wrapped your arms around his neck so that you could bring him down to you. The move took the boy by surprise as he steadied himself placing his other hand on your hip. His lips were rough against yours, reminding you that you needed to buy him a chapstick he’d actually like.

Luke always knew that your lips were going to taste good, but he never could have predicted that you could have taste that sweet. It caused this buzzing sense in his head that only stopped when you pulled away just as the sound of footsteps came from the stairs “oh good mom you found it!” Quinn called out going back downstairs.

You drank in the sight of Luke, your lip gloss shone on his lips as he fiddled with his hair “I guess we should go back down?” Luke asked with a shrug as you nodded “maybe just-” you brought your thumb to his lip. Brushing your finger against his lip to collect the product from his lips “there.” You took a step back with a smile seeing that there was now no evidence of the fact that you had kissed him.

The only issue with this kiss was that neither one of you would remember it. Well you both it, but because it was what you had longed for, it felt like a dream. And with the fear of rejection creeping up your neck like an uncontrollable rash, it was best to keep it all to yourselves.

Because after all how does one ask someone if they really did kiss last night?

+𝟏

The crackling noises of the burning wood echoed in your ears as you stared at the campfire “you should talk to her.” Quinn’s voice was soft, somehow still startling Luke who stood by the cooler.

His hand gripped at the new beer can “why would I do that?” Luke asked, adjusting his gaze to make out that he wasn’t looking at you “are we seriously going to do this again?” Quinn couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

He had spent what felt like Luke’s whole life watching the both of you dance around your feelings. Luke’s lips turned upright into a smile at the sound of your laughter, which made his heart bloom with joy, but that was short-lived when he saw Jack being the cause of what you found so funny.

Luke’s lips were quickly forced into a thin line as his hand tightened around his drink “Luke, Jack is the last guy that she would ever go for.” Quinn reminded his brother, placing his hand on his taller brothers back.

It made the Devils player furrow his eyebrows “you don’t know that.” Everyone in fact knew that, Jack was the kind of man that you would have ended up killing if you had to live with him for the rest of your life. Hell even Luke knew it, but he was willing to forget about the logic. He never seemed ready to acknowledge that there was a chance you could like him back.

A whine escaped your lips “y’know lying is just mean right?” You sunk back into your chair “yeah well I ain’t lying.” Jack shot back rolling his eyes.

You clearly didn’t believe the boy as your arms crossed “fine look at them right now and if he isn’t then I will shut up.” Jack clasped his hands together as if a lightbulb had turned on above him. You sighed sending him a nod as you turned your body back to the porch, allowing your eyes to scan the area for Luke. The boy cut himself off in the conversation with Quinn when your eyes locked with his “this means nothing.” You mumbled still in denial.

It honestly should have been so obvious to you both, I mean everyone around you both noticed but the two of you.

The night carried on with you trying to ignore Jacks comments as Luke did the same. Cole let out a yawn as he blinked “I think it is time for bed.” He announced placing his hands in his thighs as he got up watching a few of the guys agree with him.

As the last two besides for you and Luke, Quinn patted Jacks shoulders “why don’t we head up to bed too?” He asked, barely giving his younger brother a chance to say no. Jack was pulled up as he sent you both a salute “don’t stay up too la-” his tease was cut off when Quinn slapped his hand over Jacks mouth.

Luke watched Quinn and Jack walk back into the house before he turned back to see you smiling at him “what?” Luke asked pushing his curls out of his eyes.

He worried that he had something on his face “why don’t you come sit with me?” You offered, patting the camping chair next to you. It felt weird having him sat on what felt like the other side of the fire, he was way too far away from you for your own liking “do I have to?” Luke let out this dramatic sigh letting you know he was messing with you as he got up.

It was nice just being alone with him away from just your bedroom. Since he moved to New Jersey you really did appreciate the one on one time that you got with him “I’m glad you came this year.” Luke confessed finally taking his place in the chair next to you.

You rested your head against the back of your chair “I’ll always come for you.” Your hand reached for his wanting to reassure him “unfortunately for you the return policy on this friendship is long expired so you’re like really stuck with me.” You spoke in a serious tone that made him laugh.

Luke squeezed your hand “darn I was just figuring out how to write my reason for returning ya.” You reached out to hit him “and what was that going to be?” You cocked your head running your tongue along your teeth as you smirked.

He felt his heart pound sitting closer to you “don’t think it makes a lot of sense yet.” Luke shook his head, not having an actual answer for you.

The crackle of the fire served as the perfect background noise “well you’ve got to speak now or else you might really be stuck with me.” You pointed out sticking your tongue out at him making the boy grin as he shook his head.

Truthfully he was never going to return you, hell it was going to have to be you returning him if anything. Even then he was not going to leave you without a fight to stay.

Luke ran his fingers along your jaw “I think coming to Jersey would be good for you.” He knew it was one of your options for what you’d do after you graduated “oh god are we gonna be those friends who end up living next to each other and raise their kids together?” You laughed opting to cover the nerves that coarsed through your veins.

It made the boy shake his head “can I tell you something?” He asked sucking at his teeth “you know you can tell me anything.” You nodded ignoring how close your face was to his.

Luke could hear Jack and Quinn in his mind screaming at him to finally stop being such a baby and just tell you how he felt “and it can’t change our friendship.” You now grew worried at words “you’re scaring me.” That was also what Luke didn’t want.

So before he dug himself into a hole he just decided to jump off of the decision cliff he was on “I like you.” The words escaped from his lips “so when you talk about us living next to each other with our families it’s not nice.” He shook his head watching you listen.

But he didn’t stop there “and it kills me that you don’t feel the same-””you think I don’t like you?” You asked letting out a laugh as he nodded.

You threw your head back shaking your head “oh god Luke I’m mad about you.” The words were meant to be innocent but they lit a fire under his ass “but then why do you talk about us raising separate families together?” Luke scoffed almost thinking that this was a dream and you were joking.

But still it was your turn to explain to him “I thought that it was all I’d get.” You shrugged feeling your cheeks grow warm.

Under the moonlight as the fire illuminated your face, you looked beautiful “can I kiss you?” The question was something you had wanted to hear for such a long time now “yeah.” You nodded with a grin dropping your head as he cupped your cheek so that you could kiss him.

The kiss had you swearing that fireworks should have been going off around you guys. The boy was sweet letting the taste of whatever lipgloss you wore make him feel drunk. Was it vanilla? Or maybe even cherry? Well he didn’t really care, it taste good and he was getting to kiss you.

Jack and Quinn stood in the kitchen watching with smiles on their faces “who would have thought that it would take them this long to finally get together?” He laughed shaking his head “I am just glad that we don’t have to put up with another summer of these two and their puppy dog glances.” Quinn shuddered at the thought, mentally cringing at the idea of having to listen to Luke psych himself out of telling you how he felt.

But what both boys forgot, was that when you have been in love with someone for so long, when you finally get them you enjoy it “oh god.” Jack slapped his hand over his mouth watching Luke pull you onto his lap.

His hands cupped your ass, deepening the kiss as you were addictive to Luke “and just like that it got weird.” Quinn announced listening to Jack agree as they shut the blind of the kitchen window, opting to finally give you both some privacy.

#amber writes fics #luke hughes oneshots #luke hughes oneshot #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagines #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes fanfic #nhl one shot #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagines #hockey one shots #hockey fic #hockey oneshot

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norikuna · 1 day ago

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PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE ! ★ gojo satoru

prologue ⋆ ★ your boyfriend, gojo satoru, told you that he was gonna' stay behind in japan, he had to go to work and all — he's a high school teacher, you see. so what's he doing sneaking behind the red carpet, looking all suspiciously rumpled and mussed? oh hell no.

pairing ⋆ ★ gojo satoru x reader genre tags & warnings ⋆ ★ afab!reader, jujutsu canon, celebrity!reader, misunderstandings and mild angst, reader doesn't know about jujutsu, makeup séx, máting préss, cérvix kissing, brééding kink :D

word count ⋆ ★ 5.7k! a/n ⋆ ★ because i've always wanted gojo to be on the red carpet...yasss watched the grammys <3 smth silly, short and sweet i whipped up 😁

THE HOTTEST STAR OF THE YEAR RUSHES FROM RED CARPET, WHY? STAY TUNED FOR MORE.

saint laurent heels beat staccato taps into the worn brick, graff crystals dangling from your adorned wrist as you shove your brightly lit phone into your boyfriend's face, "what the hell, satoru?" the offending headline glaring right back at him from your screen.

gojo, for his part, just shoves his hands into his navy slacks, rolling his shoulders back in that deliciously snug ice-blue cotton dress shirt, sleeves pushed up to reveal thick forearms dusted with pale hair. you curse how your gaze dips, resolve cracking, and glossy lips pursed.

strange, how he he looks nothing short of absolutely roughed up, soft fabric crumpled, and sunglasses tilted askew. white hair mussed as though someone took to running their hands through snowy locks, huh.

"hi, baby. happy to see me?"

oh, he's trying to be charming. cute. gojo's grinning, lips parting over sharp teeth, acting as though he totally hadn't been lurking behind rows of insistent paparazzi practically hurdling themselves around the red carpet stairs.

and despite better judgement and little regard for desperate tabloids springing up, you'd pushed past security, past cries of your name, to chase after your boyfriend, who had just texted you an hour ago at most. about how work was going so great.

"you better have a really, really good explanation for this."

to his credit, gojo has the decent sense to look mildly ashamed. pale blue eyes narrow beneath tinted lenses, and he's faintly chewing on the inside of his cheek, "d'you want the long version or the short version? because you gotta' believe me, baby, hear me out –"

something's buzzing, faintly pulsing to the beat of not like us, it's gojo's phone. and he's fumbling through the deep pockets of his slacks. you furiously snap your eyes away from how well they fit, that's so not the point right now, ugh!

"your side chick, hmm?"

gojo looks vaguely offended, rolling his eyes skywards as he unlocks his phone, "hey, we got some attitude today, pretty. why's that?"

you cross your arms over oscar de la renta, sheer panels stitched to mimic stained glass, bless your stylist, truly. "we got some attitude 'cause my boyfriend told me he was busy with work, and had to teach class. dropped me off at the airport, even."

gojo sighs, teeth kissing his tongue as he clicks, "i am working, believe me. and — oh."

you crunch your heel into the gravel, loose stones that line this back passage behind the carpet and the theatre, "what's oh? 'toru?"

"promise not to get mad?" gojo's murmuring, tilting his dim phone screen around. it's a screenshot of a headline, barely a minute old. the photo? you, here, right now. wagging a stern finger at gojo, who's throwing his hands up in disbelief.

STAR FLEES RED CARPET TO RENDEZVOUS WITH MYSTERY MAN? BOYFRIEND, OR SOMETHING MORE?

the tagline follows, some blithe words about how you're prioritising a man in the shadows, over a shining career? over a golden gramophone clutched in your hand, lights sparkling your name on stage. you hiss at the ridiculous amount of shares and comments already, "oh, come on."

"we're so screwed, baby," gojo sighs, rubbing his temple, swiping away at a quick notification from stoic lookin' blonde who doesn't even crack a smile in his profile photo, kento? huh, you've never met a kento.

you sigh, feeling the headache oncoming at the mere thought of your manager furiously scouring the theatre for you, "we?"

gojo scowls, shoving his phone away, "hey, i have people to answer to as well. last thing i need is a public image."

what an odd sentiment, you privately wonder. gojo is wealthy, stupidly so. you're certain of that. something about old money, his family stretches back generations on some beautiful estate. but he's a high school teacher. you've seen him grade quizzes, seen blurry photos of students in dark jackets and neatly pressed uniforms. a private school on the outskirts of tokyo, sure, but public image?

"since when do high school teachers care about their pr?"

gojo flexes his hands, and your eyes drop. slender fingers that you know like the back of your own hand, fingers you've traced absentmindedly when he's sprawled across your couch, fingers that have curled into the dip of your waist in the quiet hours of the night. long, pale, too elegant for someone as brash as him, tensing now as though he's bracing for impact. he's hesitating, weird, because gojo satoru never hesitates.

well, maybe once. the first time he asked you out, flushed and nigh tripping over himself, looking so damn adorable that you had stomped your loubitons, and said 'yes' just so you could kiss him.

"i need to tell you something, baby."

something cold slides down your spine, and it has nothing to do with the evening chill. the air shifts, thickens, pressing against your skin in a way that makes your pulse gallop. you swallow, tongue suddenly heavy in your mouth at how gojo looks unsettled.

that's what gets you. he's never like this. not even that one time months ago when you caught him unwrapping white bandages from his eyes, headache, he had muttered, fingers gripping some torn, stained bundle of purple and green silk. he had crashed out on your cosmos couch minutes later, surly and morose for the days that followed.

your mind races. his family, it has to be his family. the old-money, aristocratic gojo family, the family that he's never introduced you too. they probably think actresses and pop stars are meant to be ogled at from afar, hardly worthy material to bring home to the estate. your stomach churns, for is that why he showed up here, rumpled and tense, instead of waiting until you got home? is this it, ending things?

your heart's hammering, and you hate this, hate it so bad. how how much you want to cling to him, to stop whatever he's about to say from slipping past his candy-pink lips.

"i'm a sorcerer."

there's a sharp, stabbing pain right behind your eyes.

and you're blinking, slowly, mind whirring. then you laugh, loud. sharp, and far too high-pitched, "god, this is why i love you. you're funny, 'toru. i can't believe you actually had me worried and shit, like –"

"i'm being serious, baby." and that's the thing, isn't it? he seems so, like he believes every word coming out of his mouth. his hands, big and warm, close around yours, and there's something in the way that he clasps you, as though he's pleading, and it makes you freeze.

"swear i would never string you along in something like this," gojo murmurs, "i know it's a lot, but seriously, you can ask me anything. anything, and i'll try to answer. and i wasn't ever sure how i was gonna' tell you, but promise i was waiting for the right time and –"

your boyfriend, bless his beautiful face and questionable judgement, and golden heart, has lost his goddamn mind.

your fingers tighten around his, feeling the scrape of faint callouses and scars, "okay, c'mon. now this is getting a little weird."

"you don't believe me?" and gojo looks, god, he looks devastated. long, white lashes fluttering against icy eyes, earnest in a way that makes your stomach twist.

"babe, you said sorcerer right? like...magic? big pointy hats, and all that shit?"

gojo just nods, a faint flush colouring his cheeks, "jujutsu sorcerer. it's real, like, y'know shoko? remember when we met her at that bar downtown, we went to school together. she can back me up, or –, or, i can take you to the school, or introduce you to –"

"okay, okay!" you pull your hands away, feeling your breath hitch as your pulse pounds in your ears, "satoru, stop. seriously. i don't know what you're trying to do here, but it's really startin' to freak me out."

gojo's jaw tightens, the beautiful and haunting lines of his face hardening. something raw, and something sharp flickers through his eyes, "you think i'm fuckin' with you?" there's something brittle in the low control of his tone, "you think i'd joke about this?

you throw your hands up, bejewelled bvlgari sliding down your digits, "yes, satoru! you joke about everything, sometimes." your heart is erratic now, bile sitting in the back of your throat, "what the fuck are you even sayin', like, magic? that you really want me to believe that you're a wizard?"

"not a wizard, sorcerer."

"oh, my bad," you bite out, lips snapping around disbelieving words, "that just makes so much more sense."

gojo's eyes flare, and he's pressing a thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his defined nose, as though he can feel another one of his migraines creeping up, "god, can you just, — can you just listen to me for once?"

"listen to you?" you laugh, but it's far more of a disbelieving scoff, "listen to yourself, please. satoru, we're halfway across the world right now. i could put my career, my entire future, on hold because i really do love you. and now you're telling me that you — what? fight demons in your free time?"

"curses," gojo mutters, rolling big, blue eyes, as though it makes much of a difference to you.

"oh my god."

gojo's looking at you as though he doesn't even recognise you, like he expected something different, as though you're the one making this hard. his throat is bobbing, adam's apple shifting, and you can see his hands pinch at his sides, "knew you wouldn't believe me," he's muttering, shaking his head of tousled, white hair, "this was jus' stupid, no wonder i never tried this whole time."

"they why do it now?" you throw the words at him, suddenly furious and hurting, because you don't understand why he's pulling this on you, now. "why? like, go on, show me something, then, 'toru! or otherwise this is some insane, insane shit, i can't even – i don't know what you want me to do."

gojo's mouth opens, and then closes. his shoulders droop just slightly, and for a moment, just a brief and flickering moment, he looks far more tired than his twenty-eight years. but a split second passes, and he's exhaling, just stepping back.

"forget it," gojo snaps, voice clipped, "this was a mistake. i got real shit to do, talk to y'afterwards." he's turning, stalking off and pulling his sunglasses away from his face (he rarely does that), as though you're the one that's let him down.

what the fuck? the tell-tale click of a camera rings your ears, followed by a bright flash. great. you need a drink, stat.

you shouldn't do this. you know you shouldn't do this. and yet, here you are, gripping at gojo's sleek phone, left with you when he disappeared to fuck knows where.

your fingers twitch around the case, like you should just chuck it across the hotel suite and be done with this whole thing. but you don't, you just sit there. the silence pressing in too thick, your manager's tired voice still rattling in your skull.

yes. you have a boyfriend. yes, he showed up tonight. yes, you still love him, even if he's lost his marbles.

you keep that last part to yourself, thumb hesitating over your own phone, resisting the urge to doom scroll your way into some clarity. as though your snark reddit thread is going to have some answers for this mess.

the oscar de la renta is long gone, carefully pried off and zipped away into a smooth, dark bag — leaving you in a slinky ysl number, straight from their summer runway, drumming your fingers along the bejewelled hem as diamonds still glint at your ears. and gojo? nowhere to be found.

you exhale sharply, rolling his phone between your palms before pressing the screen to life. you shouldn't, you never do this. in two years, you've never once felt the need to snoop, nor pry, to check if he was lyin' about anything, because he never gave you a reason to.

but here you are, thumbing in the passcode anyway. it's your birthday, fuck. of course it is. you're staring at the unlocked screen, suddenly still, what the hell are you even looking for? if this was some elaborate joke, some ruse, what would you find? some notes app plan to send you spiralling? but it was the way that gojo satoru had looked, as though he had truly been hurt, and it hadn't seem false at all.

your thumb hesitates, tapping onto the messages. skimming past familiar names, shoko (right, yep), that kento, and something from an okkotsu with a smiling emoticon next to it. your stomach churns at the intrusion, but your curiosity (and desire to break free of the doghouse) presses harder. you press at a read bubble.

yaga we think it's a special grade. could possess a domain. gojo exorcised it. 👍

you're peering at the timestamp, thirty mere minutes before you had torn away from the red carpet, demanding to know why the hell he looked as though he lost the fight with an angry gnome, as though he'd wrestled a ghost in the back alley.

your mouth goes bone dry, 'exorcised.' this clearly isn't a joke, it's far too intricate, too deeply woven into gojo's life for it to be some elaborate prank. you feel vaguely ill, swiping through emails, some from a guy named ijichi, reports full of the kind of gory details you'd expect from a crime documentary. terms like domain expansion, cursed energy and a special grade blur together as you flip onto your side, heels still dangling off the bed, skirt hem riding up.

then, by pure accident, you tap into his camera roll. oh, there's so much of you. soft candid shots, like you laughing into a martini. you, asleep in the passenger seat of his car, caught mid-bite into a croissant that time he took you to paris. a dumb, fond smile tugs at your sparkling lips despite yourself, but then you swipe and —

a video. you press play, praying to the heavens above that there's no mortal punishment for being a nosy ass.

gojo, in that sleek, grey suit that you so adore. he seems to be at some restaurant, on a cruise ship, perhaps? demolishing a banana split with the kind of enthusiasm that most men reserve for their wedding night.

next to him, a pale and dark-haired boy is watching in resigned horror, while the bleary, unfocused lens swivels to a group of more, unfamiliar teenagers. they're all dressed in some form of black-tie wear, rambling about completed missions and gojo-sensei.

sensei, you frown, feeling a thick lump in your throat. they must be his students, the ones from his classes, and the way they're talking to him, laughing and giggling? he's so, so loved. fuck, what had you been missing?

the camera lingers on a girl with a sharp sway of auburn hair, propped with her elbows on the table, in a frilly black dress. there's a pink-haired kid nudging her as she snaps her fingers, something glinting on the table.

nails, like those you'd see at some hardware store. nails that move, without her even touching them once. your stomach twists, and you rewind. once. twice. ten times. watching, staring, trying to catch at how the metal swivels without even brushed against.

sorcery. gojo had said to your face, and you had scoffed. tch', you snap the phone shut and shove it on the soft sheets, something ugly clawing at your throat. nausea, guilt. some form of shame, and exasperation with the man you love for not telling you this earlier.

you fiddle with the diamond hanging from your ear, forlornly glancing at the heavy door, for you want gojo. to say that you're sorry, to say that you're furious he didn't explain this better, to say that you love him, that you want him to be alright, that you need him, that you want —

slam!

the door swings open, no keycard, and no knock. and you near damn jump out of your skin, a rush of heat and cold spiking through you all at once. crawling over your bare arms, legs still glossed and smoothed underneath your little dress.

gojo. gojo, standing there, looking undone. ruffled, and heaving as he drinks the sight of you in. those ever-present sunglasses, those tinted shades that he so favours are gone. and when his eyes flick up to you, you suck in a breath so sharp that it scrapes at your throat.

they glow, electric blue, almost too vibrant to be real, like something pulled straight out of a vivid imagination.

"satoru," you manage, voice pattering away at how his head snaps up at the sound of your voice, catching the way his lips part, something frayed and desperate twisting his expression. the fine cotton of his shirt is streaked with red, and there's a smear of that same crimson shade reaching up his left cheek, stretching up to his ear. like a painter who got impatient with a brush.

"baby," gojo exhales, voice thick, as though he's been holding this in all night, moving towards you, steady, "i shoulda' told you, told you more. need you to believe me, but –"

you press a manicured finger against his lips, "i believe you. satoru, i really do. i'm so sorry, i had no idea and — wait, whose blood is this?"

gojo shudders under your touch, just the slightest tremour, eyes blown wide, "not who," lashes fluttering lower, leaning against you, "what. and it doesn't matter much now."

your boyfriend's searching your face, looking for something, something more intimate, desparate in your expression. his brows pulled together, and mouth parting into a soft oh! when he sees a mirror reflection of his own want.

and then, he's kissing you, and you're kissing him. whining desperately into the press of his lips, suddenly hot for the urge to pull your legs right against that thick bulge that jostles at your thigh. to lean more into the wandering hands that tug at the hem of season ysl.

you're gasping, not protesting as thick hands pull at your thighs. laying you flat against the bed, the finest suite that this hotel has to offer. away from prying eyes, and nosy reporters hoping to catch the who's who of your bedmates. or rather, the singular love of your life.

gojo's chuckling at your expression, "don't worry, baby. won't ruin yer' pretty dress," lips curled into a slow smile, burning a determined path down the arch of your neck, past the low dip of your neckline over your breasts, "want me, baby? wan' this?"

"so bad," you murmur, just giggling as gojo groans, pulling you up so you're splayed out for him, balanced across his thighs. the very tip of your heels digging into his back as you cross your legs to pull him closer, "m'boyfriend's so hot."

gojo whines into your chest, laving blossoming bruises over the skin that you know will give the makeup artists a field day, and it's obvious how needy he is. thick curve of his bulge pressing right up against your core, rutting his hips for some friction as he showers you in attention, worshipping your form. lips coming back to press into yours, laving at your mouth.

"hah, 'toru!" you yelp, adjusting the silky, beaded neckline, "easy on the d-dress. fuck, can't explain that to my s-stylist when you –" you're mewling, your words getting lost in the heat of gojo's panting mouth.

"what'dya take me for, baby?" gojo hums, slick strands clinging to his dewy lips, running broad hands over your waist, "but i gotta' show my girl," and here, he's patting lower over your hips, "some lovin', and some care, heh."

gojo truly fears he may be obsessed with you, just as much as the rest of the world is. but he, well, he's the only one who gets to see you like this, the flesh of your thighs splayed out underneath the hem that's ridden up of that gorgeous number you've got on. throwing your head back for him, just him.

he's sighing, prettily, tapping at your cheek with loving fingers, "can fuck ya' here, right? gonna' do it so good, show y'some other things you've been missin' out on."

you tilt your head, "you already fuck me that good, 'toru." feeling him groan, racking his bulge up against you once more, "never made me miss out on a, hah, a d-damn thing."

gojo looks ravenous, eyes still wide, white lashes framing the pools of vibrant, electric blue, "told ya' about jujutsu, didn't i?" pressing a filthy kiss to your lips once more, "well, heh, just you wait. can use it for plentyyy other things, baby."

your dress is being pushed up, the soft fabric giving little resistance as gojo presses the rough pads of his fingers into your hips. haute couture giving way for gojo to touch as much of you as he can.

"baby," he's whining, jaw slack as he slides a finger over the crevice of your thighs, "prettiest fuckin' thing i've ever seen. love you so bad, it hurts. it really, really does." and how could you not love him back, gojo who's peering at you with dilated, adoring eyes?

"just gonna, yeah, put ya' down there. don't gotta' do much, just lay there, pretty." gojo's pressing you down slowly, gently. further into the mattress, as he slots himself right at the apex of your thighs. slapping at your fingers when you reach for the straps of your heels, "don't," he whines, petulant, "it looks hot. might hafta' get you another pair," bestowing another sweet kiss upon your waiting, swollen lips when you scoff.

"satoru," you purr, carding your polished nails over the man's scalp, threading your fingers through soft, white strands. relishing in how his throat bobs, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling, "said you had some jujutsu, that's the word, right? something to show me? well?"

whatever paper thin resolve had been holding gojo satoru cracks, snapping away as gojo's eyes harden, hand pulling at the bands of your thin, sheer panties. ones clearly meant to flirt, and tease.

the lace waistband gives way with a gutting, sopping tear. and gojo's grinning, wide so sharp canines poke out from underneath cherry lips, rolling the ball of torn fabric up and tucking them away into his pockets, snickering as though he's won his prize, "s-soaked, already?"

you fight the furious blush that colours your cheeks when gojo whistles, low and impressed, laying himself flat on his stomach so your heels are swinging over his shoulders, resting against his back, as he takes in the brazen sight of your swollen folds throbbing, "pretty pussy's always so wet for me, heh." watching clear slick gather from your mound to your entrance, sliding his index finger along your slit, "wanna' taste you, baby."

you know there's little else on this earth that brings as much pleasure as gojo's eager mouth, the way he becomes truly ravenous when he's in between your legs — thighs hooked over his frame. how he always knows the right spots to press his mouth to, where to flatten his tongue against your slick. but now? right now, you want him in you. mouth lolling at the idea of his thick inches stuffin' you so, so full.

gojo latches onto your silence, resting his soft head of white hair against your thigh, batting long lashes up at you from underneath his lidded gaze, "or does my pretty girl want somethin' else, mhm?" the corners of his soft, pink lips quirking upwards in the ghost of a knowing smile.

it's hard to form a decent response when his slender middle finger is teasing over your glimmering slit, making you keen at the slick pop! of your arousal ringing in your ears, "s-satoru! think you, hahh, know what i want, please."

you're not above begging, certainly not when gojo's grinning, as pleased as the cat who got the cream. looming up to unbuckle his fine, leather belt, and hissing when his own hand provides just enough fiction to make his ears blush a hot, deep crimson.

you never, ever grow tired of this sight. the pale flush on gojo's neck trailing down, down further past sinous muscle and soft flesh. past the curl of white hairs on his groin, and to the long, thick curve of his cock that already looks as though it's throbbing.

"wait a sec', baby," gojo breathes, two gentle fingers pushing past your dripping folds to gather some of the translucent slick pooling onto the sheets beneath you. the wet smack! of his hand pumping your arousal over his cock like some lubricant, and the way he's releasing a sharp, serpentine sound at how filthy it all is.

he's teasing you, and it makes you groan. makes you writhe on the bed, desperately hoping that he has some form of mercy on you, bucking your cunt against his rounded, leaking tip that's sliding through your folds, "gonna' show ya' exactly how i hit bullseye each time, baby."

there's that luminous blue light, pulsing from gojo's irises (that you swear have reformed into feral, little hearts). it's a shade of blue so intense, it seems as though he's been carved from the sky itself.

"f-fuck," you whine, feeling the first inch of his thick shaft nudging past your swollen, aching folds, "hngh, 'toru, fuck, 's big." whimpering from the sheer pleasure as gojo chuckles, his warm palms resting on your thighs to swing your legs over his shoulders once more. pressing down into the meanest mating press that you can imagine.

glorious, hot inches rummaging past your gummy walls, exploring every crevice as you're certain his weeping tip must already be kissing that sensitive spot at your cervix, "babe, satoru, fillin' me so good already."

the nasty, acute angle at which he's got you folded is something out of your most lustful dreams, ones where gojo's panting just like he is now, already babbling, "always s'perfect for me, perfect fit, love you baby," that low rumble in gojo's chest quivering as he litters droopy kisses over your cheek, your neck and down your collarbone.

that purr falling from gojo's glossy lips getting louder with each surefire hit that he delivers against your sweet, rough spot, and had you been in a more coherent state, you would have been marvelling at how instantly your boyfriend had managed to hit the bullseye he promised, and you hear him faintly laugh, "called six eyes, baby. gonna' show you allll the ways i can use it, heh."

not able to stop the whimper when you feel the sticky smack of skin against your ass, slamming into you over and over again, "y'got two eyes, though?"

a damn near sob when he begins rolling his hips so sluttily, so he can truly swab at you with the most pleasurable sensation, laughing so pretty with a faint dimple creasing the corner of his mouth, "tch', so much to teach ya', baby. don't worry, we'll cover everything."

"hah, 'toru, satoru, babe," you squeal, the very tips of your manicured nails placing little perfect pricks onto the nape of gojo's flushed neck, "fuckin' me so damn' good." and you know how much your boyfriend likes to be praised, for he's flushing even more, whining as you lock your ankles in the air.

and the pace that he keeps up is nothing short of inhuman, tacking his groin against your sloppy clit until there's tears of relief pooling on your lashes. and it's not like you've ever been left dissatisfied with gojo satoru around, for from the very first night, he's been an expert at leaving you bleary eyed, and hazy with little cupid arrows dancing around your head.

but to be aware of all this, well, it's something different. there's that raw, searing blue gaze that you've never caught before, sending waves of raw pleasure down your spine.

each raspy groan drawn out of gojo is punctuated with the thick slap of his cock against your inner walls, that filthy mess of his pre and your arousal puddling beneath your hips and thighs so, so deliciously.

as though he's committing every inch of you to memory, his girthy shaft bullying fat inches, battering your guts with the most tingly, mind-numbing kisses ever, and he seems to be sipping at your lips, downing his favourite taste (or second favourite, he may claim with a cheeky grin). kissing at your neck, beneath the weight of diamonds that glitter at your flushed ears.

you're trying to shift under the weight pushing you down, parting your thighs to create more space so you can gasp, "h-here, 'toru, please. 'm so close, wanna' cum with you."

and how could gojo satoru not want to propose to you right then and there? visions running through his head, all of you. you, his wife, his love, and the idea of, fuck, little bundles with his white hair cradled in your arms. visions that he's heard you talk about fondly before. already dreaming of that opulent diamond band he saw in that window store front of some luxury flagship store.

and gojo doesn't even realise he's getting caught up in that lovesick haze. nimble fingers rolling over the hood of your throbbing clit, tight circles being traced over the sensitive bud. and how he relishes the sound of your wanton moans falling against his ear, you have to finish, he needs to see it.

six eyes kicking up into overdrive as he angles his aching cock just so, that ghostly, cobalt light finding the exact spot in your pretty, perfect cunt to make you whine and squeal, and gojo feels as though he may have just seen the pearly gates when you quiver, shaking in his hold as you release crashes down on you. you, you, you. falling apart so prettily for him, lashes fluttering shut as you squeeze your eyes, and there's that gorgeous glow that he so loves to admire.

"hah, ah, 'toru!" you dig into his back, feeling up the open dress shirt still hanging from him, "s-sensitive, babe. so, s-soo good, mmph!" moaning at the feeling of gojo bursting, filling you with thick ropes of pearly release, throbbing right at your very core. laughing fondly as he kisses you through his own release, gasping and groaning into your mouth, "baby, fuck, baby, love you sooo much." clearly reluctant to even pull out of you, but enamoured by the sight of viscous, creamy cum leaking of you, practically adoring the filthy sight.

"tsk', i got sloppy with my aim, pretty," gojo hisses, "didn't put it all in ya', wanna try again?"

you're tucked against gojo's chest, cheek pressed to that expensive cologne that always lingers on him. spicy, clean, with that faint undercurrent of something sweet. his hand is in your hair, raking through it, and he's laughing, laughing as he smooths down your dress, all so fond and unbothered as you scowl.

for you know that tomorrow, everyone's gonna' be demanding answers as to why that brand new little ysl looks as though you crawled through a hedge backwards. black silk all wrinkled, straps coming loose at your shoulders.

speaking of answers...

"satoru?" you murmur, lacing your fingers with his, and gojo just hums in acknowledge, slow and lazy as you sigh, "do you have a kid?"

your boyfriend's freezing, and you feel him stiffen beneath you as he pulls back to stare at you, "what — like a kid kid? like a mini-me?" pink, kiss-stung lips parted as he's blinking, as though he's missing to whatever you've caught on.

"yeah," you mumble, suddenly feeling a lil' silly about it, "i was just, y'know, looking at your phone. swear i wasn't being nosy on purpose, just wanted to see all that sorcerer shit you were talkin' about. and i think i saw something, like a legal doc' with a kid under your name." tapping your chin in thought, "ugh, what was it again? megumi?"

gojo's features shift, that flicker of 'oh shit' that makes you backtrack, "i don't mind, by the way," you blurt, hands up, "not mad or anythin', just, like, wanted to know. since you were tellin' me everything about you, and if you have like a secret child, or two –"

a beat, and then gojo laughs. you can feel the vibrations of the deep rumbles in his chest, that ridiculous cackle that makes your ribs shake against his chest. thick arms locking you tighter against him as he grins, "oh, baby," he's purring, "it's a long story. see, i met this fella' once, toji zenin, this was wayy back when i was in school, and he killed me –"

"what the fuck?"

"i have a lotta' stories like this, don't worry. i'll tell ya' whatever you wanna' know, hah."

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo #gojo x you #daphworks

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lalunanymph · 20 hours ago

Text

✧.* IN BLOOM

✧.* summary summer rains bring about the faint scent of asiatic apple blossoms wafting through the house from an open window in the kitchen. time stands still, fragments of moments leading you right to this very second. you take his hand and a deep breath. “anywhere you go, that’s where I want to be, caleb.”

it’s all the permission he needs.

✧.* warnings first time, mutual virginity loss, slightttt psuedo-cest if you squint, soft and smutty, size kink, spanking, oral sex, mating press, dirty talk, breeding, slight aftercare at the end, pillowtalk

✧.* dawn says something different from the dark content i usually write and tried my best to balance fluff and the feelings of losing your v-card for the first time (cue rose from titanic's voice: "it's been 84 yearsssss…")

It’s the middle of the night somewhere in Skyhaven.

The street lights reflect puddles of rain left from a thunderstorm, and the air smells faintly of petrichor, reassuring weary strays and rain-soaked passersby alike that the worst is already over.

While the world dries off from another raging tempest, inside Caleb’s home, you’re in his arms, warm and tipsy from the intimacy of shallow breaths gracing your parted lips.

Smack. Huff. A caress.

Slick and hot, the soft sounds of his kisses make you flush deeper, and you tighten your fingers in his hair.

Caleb moans, unrestrained, as he feels you shift on his lap. Like a drug, he can’t get enough of you. The smell of wildflowers in your hair, how you taste like the strawberry balm he bought for you days ago when you complained of chapped lips. Slick fruitiness glides over his parched mouth, making his kisses glide effortlessly.

He tangles his tongue with yours, sending a jolt of desire running up your spine.

“Mhmph,” you moan against his mouth. “Oh… Caleb .”

His name, sticky sweet with cadences of love, slips past your bruised lips, and he swears his heart chokes on a stutter.

Cool fingers push a stray lock of hair behind your ear, and he hums, those purple eyes vortexes of yearning. The maelstrom of emotion in them makes your chest squeeze, and you lean into his touch, breath coming out in a soft huff.

The unspoken tenuous line looms before the two of you, and you wonder if tonight is the night you’ll dare cross it.

Flames from the digital fireplace flicker, synchronous with the temperature on the thermostat bumping up a notch, the one Caleb got installed because you grumbled that Skyhaven was colder than you remembered. Beads of sweat drip down his temples, but he doesn’t pay them any mind.

You gently run the back of your hand against the muggy skin, wiping his perspiration away.

This close, your breaths mingle and blend into one, the tips of your nose rubbing against each other.

Inevitably, Caleb would pull back, sigh, and tell you to go to sleep while he takes a ridiculously long cold shower. You’d be left alone in your room, an ache blooming between your thighs, and frustration keeping you up all night.

That bastard.

At your core, you understand your ex-older brother figure didn’t mean to edge you to the precipice of oblivion. His protective tendencies, while great in keeping danger away from you, are a hindrance to taking the next, natural step forward together.

As you feather another kiss to his jaw, you feel him pull back.

Caleb’s cheeks are ruddy, not from the heat of the room, but from the one building between the two of you.

He licks his lips, inadvertently drawing your attention to the puffy flesh which is still sticky from your errant smears of lip oil. With a huge sigh, he drags himself back from your orbit, as if he can’t bear to be within crashing distance of your surface.

“Pipsqueak, it’s late,” Caleb whispers, the tenderness of his words brushing against your earlobe.

You shiver when his teeth graze the sensitive flesh.

“You need to sleep—”

Stubbornly, or perhaps, foolishly, you tighten your grip around his neck and drag him closer to you till his forehead bumps yours.

Your lips seek him with a newfound determination, and he almost stumbles back into the stuffed cushion, a moan of desperation slipping past his carefully crafted self-control.

“Pip—”

“No,” you mumble heatedly, and drag your tongue across his lower lip, begging him for access into his mouth.

Caleb reluctantly parts his lips and you tangle your tongue with his, tasting the sweetness of the apple soda he just drank half an hour ago.

“Mhm,” he moans, and gives in to your momentary distraction, knotting his fingers into your already disheveled hair.

Something hard pokes your lower belly, and you whine into the heat of his kisses, running your tongue over the hard palate of his teeth.

Caleb tightens his grip on your hips, and relents into the force of your yearning, feeling the contours of your body melting against the hard planes of his own muscular build. You shiver when he dips his fingers past the hemline of the tank top you’re wearing, your breasts pressed up to his chiseled pecs. He’s bare except for a low-slung pair of sweatpants, temptation right in the palm of your hand.

Your nipples pebble from the friction of his body slowly rubbing against yours, and the need he’s been stoking throbs warmly between your thighs, an aching thirst demanding to be quenched.

“ Caleb… ”

The whispered moan feathers across his cheeks, grazing him with the warm softness that is entirely you.

In his arms, you’re sin waiting to be devoured—those doe-innocent eyes and warm, wet mouth that get him harder than steel.

He whimpers when your lower body drags against his bulge, and winces when you giggle and gently nip his lower lip.

“Pipsqueak—”

Hoarse and ragged, the sound of your childhood nickname brings you up short.

“Caleb, why do you always insist on calling me that when I’m trying to… you know…” you trail off, equally as shy as him.

It’s clear he doesn’t expect you to directly address the elephant in the room. But, after almost losing him once to the explosion and another time to his spiraling secrets, you desperately want to hold on to the man who had taught you what love was.

Caleb’s thumbs stroke the fleshy part of your hips, drawing tender circles on your skin. Those purple eyes flash like a doleful puppy’s and you resist the urge to pinch his cheek. He looks like he’s in pain—as if one touch from you could break him.

“Are you sure?”

His voice is hoarse. Uncertain.

“Once we do this, it’s…” he trails off. Years of knowing his ins and outs make you privy to the true meaning of his hesitation:

Are you sure you want to cross this line with me?

Your fingers tremble when they caress his jaw. Summer rains bring about the faint scent of Asiatic apple blossoms wafting through the house from an open window in the kitchen.

Time stands still, fragments of moments leading you upright to this very second.

You take his hand and a deep breath. Caleb sees your crystal clear eyes, free from the shadows of the doubt creeping into his mind. He tastes the first stirrings of hope, right in the center of his rib cage where his heart pounds valiantly, and tightens his grip on your hand.

You look at him like he’s something precious —gold and gems in the palm of your hand. Tenderly, you press a kiss to his forehead, tasting the salt of his skin, and murmur:

“Anywhere you go, that’s where I want to be, Caleb. ”

It’s all the permission he needs.

Caleb snaps you up into his arms effortlessly, using his unbeatable strength to carry you back to his bedroom, his lips never leaving yours.

The heat of the moment is only broken when he sets you down on the bed, his lips detaching from yours for a moment to trail down your neck, nipping and sucking his marks all over the pristine canvas of your skin. You gasp, arching into his touch, when he nuzzles his face into the crook of your shoulder; biting down on the stretch of skin just begging to be marked by him.

He slides the strap of your tank top to the side, stamping more heated kisses down onto your shoulder, the jut of your arm. Every loving graze is punctuated by his devotion, those violet eyes brewing with the storm of his affection about to snap and break.

Caleb… you whine, and he answers with a low grunt, his entire weight bearing down on you.

As kids, he’s always had the unfair advantage of his build and age to win at wrestling. Gran would often find the two of you entangled on the rug, you flushed and seething and him glowing with triumph when he’s won—yet again.

But, the press of his body on yours is different this time.

It carries a more intimate intention, all of which is far from the innocence of playfully fighting each other for the last hawthorn-flavored candy in the fridge, or the privilege of choosing what Saturday morning cartoons to watch.

He sweeps your hair back, letting it drape over your other shoulder as he moves his lips to the delicate stretch of skin still untouched by the heat of his mouth. Caleb’s teeth graze your pulse point, and you jerk, as if electrocuted.

“Nghm,” you moan, and he huffs a chuckle, his warm breath making goosebumps erupt across your arms. “ Fuc—”

“Uh-uh,” he chastises, the heat of his mouth swelling over your pulse point, gently sucking on your skin. Leaving another errant mark. “Don’t swear—good princesses never swear.”

Teeth sink into your lower lip. You feel dizzy and elated at the same time like you’re standing on the highest point of the earth, looking down at the swirling colors below.

“Ngh—C-Caleb. ”

Oh, you sound so weak. Already driven to your knees, metaphorically, for this man who had as much power over you as you did over him.

“Yeah, princess?”

He moves his lips down to your sternum, hot puffs making your nipples perk up from her dormant slumber. They tent underneath the ratty, old t-shirt you’re wearing, the one that used to belong to him, demanding to be sucked and teased.

Caleb is careful to not push your boundaries, but you don’t want any of that.

Grabbing his head, you press it none-too-gently in between the valley of your tits, wordlessly signaling what you need.

His dog tag shines in the low light of his bedroom, the apple charm a glint of red that complements the fog of lust taking over you. Everywhere you look, you feel, is nothing but Caleb.

He presses you flat into the bed, the sheets bunching up under you and in your tight fists.

“Don’t touch… not yet. Can you follow my orders, baby?”

There’s no choice for you, but to nod.

Slowly, like molasses dripping from the lip of a bottle, he wraps his mouth around your turgid, right nipple. The dampness of his saliva seeps past the thin fabric, and you cry out when he bites down on your bud, the brief flash of pain lighting up your nerves from head to toe.

Slick need saturates the seat of your old sleep pants. You whimper when the head of his cock drives between the cleft of your pussy, digging against your clit.

Sparks of pleasure ricochet from the tips of your fingers up to your hairline and you groan, mouth falling lax.

He takes his time, swirling his tongue over your tender peak, broad strokes of his tongue spreading more spit and heat, wetting the front of your shirt. It’s methodical, how every stroke of attention stacks up to a building heat throbbing at your core.

A supernova of desire, bulging and waiting to explode.

(And, he hasn’t even fucked you yet).

Caleb moves his attention to your other peak, and you cry out when he nibbles on it, your hands breaking formation from the bed where he’s ordered them to be stationed, and tangling disobediently in his dark hair.

But, he doesn’t chastise you.

Caleb continues to purl swathes of his tongue over your tender nipple, flickering his darkened gaze up to the line of your jaw as the pleasure unfurls across your heated face.

You choke on another cry when he pries your thighs further apart, settling his bigger build between them.

“Look at you.” Heated derision drips from his venomous lips, and you lap them up, tilting his head up to taste his lips. You’re not sure how you ended up in this position when it was you who wanted this. The last bit of control you have dissipates, and your body falls open for him like the spine of a well-read book.

It scares you how much Caleb knows about your body. The small scar above your knee when you crashed your bike into the wide trunk of an oak tree. The grooves of your neck now bear his kisses and marks.

Despite staying true to his word about never getting a girlfriend, Caleb is mysteriously nimble and sure for a virgin.

“Did you have another girl before me?”

You don’t mean to sound accusatory, but the words fly from your puffy lips and you can’t take them back.

Not when he glances up at you as if you had insulted thirteen generations of his family.

“Uh—no,” he mutters defensively, caustically pushing back his sweat-soaked bangs from his flushed face. “ Excuseeee me, princess. What’s with that tone? You know you’re the only woman I’d ever touch.”

You purse your lips and level him another glare, though it’s tempered by a glowing warmth in your chest.

“R-really?”

You hate how whiny you sound, like a psychotic girlfriend. But, Caleb does have a penchant for bringing out the crazy in you when you least expect it.

He brings your knuckles to his lips, feathering a soft kiss on them. “Yeah. Why do you think I took so many cold showers growing up? This little pipsqueak is far too tempting for me.” He punctuates his point with another kiss on the nape of your neck.

His Adam's apple bobs from the admission, and your eyes widen.

“Huh. I seeee .”

You drag your words like him, playfully pinching his cheek. “That’s… kinda sweet.”

“Yeah, yeah,” his gruffness reminds you of a ruffled puppy, and you laugh, tugging his silver chain with two fingers.

The scene flickers. The man on top of you cracks, and a fragment of the boy you grew up with glimmers; the past merges with the present, and the essence of who Caleb is grins mischievously right in front of you.

Like so many times before, he tackles you onto the bed, hands flying underneath your shirt to tickle your sides.

“No! Caleb! I yield! I yield—! ”

Your infectious laughter bounces across the monochromatic walls of his room and fills his lungs with bubbles of joy.

“Yeah, you better,” he threatens jokingly. While you’re still giggling, he grabs the hem of your shirt and gives it an experimental tug. When you don’t resist, Caleb pushes the envelope of your consent and lifts the shirt past the smooth terrain of your tummy, inching it up slowly… so slow…

His fingers are trembling, and you take over, helping him with the last stretch, leaning up to tug your shirt completely off your body.

Your chest squeezes with a mix of dread and anticipation when he eyes your bare breasts, a myriad of emotions flitting across those deep-set purple eyes.

Need, desire, shame, anger—tenderness.

His eyes speak the truth, even when he remains silent, and no matter how much he changes into the stoic Colonel you now have to coincide with your gentle older brother figure, those irises will always betray his true emotions for you.

Now, they’re gooey with a feeling neither of you can name, as he peppers more kisses around the plush fat of your breast. Taking his time, he teases you with puffs of hot breath and grazes of his teeth.

Working you up to a crescendo of need before he gives you what you want.

And god, do you want it.

Your body is arching tighter than a bow ready to strike, so keyed up from his few touches and the previous makeout session.

“Caleb—”

“Yeah, gotcha.”

He samples the flavor of your skin, closer now to your nipple. Your thoughts flat lines into a white-hot buzzing hum when he finally— finally —wraps his lips around your tender bud.

Fuuucckkk. Your keening sigh sends a chill straight to his bones.

Suckling tenderly, he pulls the taut flesh into the enticing vacuum of his mouth and releases it, forming a small ‘O’ with his puffy lips and moving on to your next breast.

The twinge of unending sucking and nibbling rubs your tender flesh raw.

Caleb… Caleb…

You’re panting like you’re racing a marathon. He leaves a bunch of hickies down the pillowy fat of your tits, making his mark loud and clear on your body for the world to see.

A possessive hint curls on the edges of his smile and he braces himself on his forearms, juicy biceps glistening in the interplay of shadow and light in this muggy room.

Peeling your glassy eyes at him, you huff, grumbling.

“Tease.”

He laughs heartily at your adorable accusation.

“Never said I wasn’t a right bastard, love,” he coos, cocky and sure. You want to wipe the smirk off his infuriatingly handsome face.

Leaning up, your spit-soaked nipples rub the hard planes of his broad chest, and you tangle your hand in his hair, drawing him down into the plush sin of your eager kisses.

“S-low down,” he huffs, smothered by your smacking little puckers.

You giggle, a vixen on the loose, needing to rein her mate in. “Nuh-uh. Not until you finally fuck me senseless.”

Caleb cocks a brow. “S’that an invitation, darlin’?”

Stuttering, you realize your mistake a second too late when he prowls over you, pressing you into the mattress, fluid like a panther locking sights on its prey.

“ Wait— ”

Caleb wastes no time hooking his thumbs under the frayed band of your shorts, tugging it down in staccato drags to mess with you.

“ Caleb—! ”

You whine, more turned on than annoyed by his teasing. It’s not until the sight of your mound appears, clinging to the edge of the band like the horizon of a new world beckoning to be explored does he stops, gaping at the sight with reddening ears.

It’s your turn to mess with him. “Cat got your tongue… gege?”

He stares at the sliver of skin like a blind man feeling the sun on his face for the first time.

“Shit,” he breathes. “You’re beautiful .”

Tentatively, he drags the last remaining piece of clothing off your body, his breath lodging in the back of his throat.

God… he groans. Pretty, little princess… gonna taste you so good.

Two worlds crash, sky to earth, and Caleb’s mouth meets the terrain of your pelvis. Traveling downward, he connects a path from hip to mound, and you feel his tongue sampling this uncharted territory.

His broad back almost blocks out the light above and god—you’re already panting when the sharp jut of his shoulder blades creates an attractive silhouette sliding down the last few inches of your body, finding his haven in the juncture of your thighs.

Caleb spreads' em’ nice and wide, making sure to run the tip of his tongue over the cushiony bounce of his lower lip. Shit, you murmur under your breath, before he dips his head and enjoys his meal.

The tapered edge of his tongue touches your clit, and you lose the last semblance of control.

You know Caleb’s always been a foodie, and the way he practically feasts on your pussy is no different.

Slick juices smear across his pretty mauve lips, and he slurps you up obscenely. The gloss of his spit lubes you up hotly from the inside, filling you with a pressing slick.

Oh—mhmph… you groan, panting heavily.

How was he so goddamn good with his tongue?

“Nghmm,” he moans, looking up at you with drunken purple eyes, lost in the sweetness of this sin he can’t stop devouring. “You taste heavenly.”

Caleb presses into your pussy, treating her like an old lover he wants to French kiss till dawn.

The high bridge of his nose bumps against your tender clitty, and he takes this chance to smear his lips all over your folds, rubbing your bundle of nerves raw.

Your back lifts off from the bed and you can’t make sense of where you start and he ends.

“H-ahhh,” you moan, and twine your fingers in his hair, tugging.

“Easy,” he groans, lifting his wet, plump lips from where your core is inhaling him in. “Y’gonna make me bald in no time, princess…”

A senseless dribble of drool trickles past your lips, and you feel the thick toughness of his finger swiping it up, popping it into his mouth. Caleb grins, spreading your legs wider, and lifts your lower body off the bed. The sight of a dark spot seeping the front of his pants makes your breathing stutter, and you can’t keep your eyes away from such a lewd show.

“See what’cha do to me, sweetness?” He moans and gingerly takes your hand with his right one to press it right on his crotch.

Holy shit. Your eyes bulge wide.

He’s fucking huge.

You lick your lips in nerves, unable to tear your eyes away from the undulating mass of his rock-hard abs moving with every ragged breath he takes.

“Is that…?”

Caleb smirks, a dark look flitting in his eyes. “All for you?” he finishes. “Yeah, sweetness.”

As if goading you to take the next step, he tips his head to the side, looking at you from under his thick lashes, his magnetic eyes pinning you to the bed.

“Wanna see it?”

He guides your hand to rock against the hard bulge, and you swallow when you feel him twitch under your palm.

The reality of your position under him hits you, and you feel as if every breath you take might make you float up to the ceiling. Your mind is racing, a cacophony of thoughts that swirl and blend into one pulsing thrum of more, more, more.

“Y-yeah.”

He grunts at your admittance and steers your fingers to the edge of his band. “There you go—tug it down, princess…”

You do as he says, and gasp when the crown of his cock comes into view.

Girthy, thick. Veiny.

A dark, almost violet-inky trail of hair leads down to the rise of his pubic bone, and you stare as the curve of his cock becomes more pronounced. Flaccid at 6 inches, he would rise to greater heights once released into the open air, and you panic, closing your fist around his still-clothed head as you beg him with your eyes to pause.

“Hold on…” you gasp. “Jus’ wait a minute.”

Caleb pauses, his eyes flashing.

“You… don’t want this?”

The implicit question hangs heavy in the air.

You don't want me?

It pains you how quick he is to incriminate himself as undesirable when it's the furthest thing from the truth.

“No!” you mumble and gently hook your fingers under his chin to get him to look at you. “I just… need a second to recalibrate cause… holy shit… you’re massive—”

He guffaws, shaking his head, boyish face lit up in joy. “S’that all? Aw, princess…” he coos and flicks your nose with his index finger. “Swear, you can be so adorable sometimes…” he teases, and you huff.

You take a deep breath and center yourself, before finding the courage to proceed with tugging down his boxers and sweatpants.

“Okay…” you murmur, and un-fist the soft material, dragging it down with bated breath.

There he is, in all his glory.

He’s warm and alive in your hands, and you give the girthy base a generous pump. His smell hits you—musk, man, briny…

Is this how a real man feels? You think your obvious lack of experience makes you faint with worry.

Would Caleb notice?

Would he hate how you don’t even know what to do with a cock?

What if he doesn’t want you to touch him—deciding you’re too inexperienced for his tastes…?

“Shit—” Caleb hisses, taken off guard by your sudden movement. “You’re killing me here, princess…”

In such simple praise, you find your footing once more against the tidal wave of insecurity.

Pushing aside your worries, you hum, taking your time to explore his body.

The divots of his abs, the crinkles of his girth as it sits so pretty on his lower body like a pair of crown jewels.

You run your thumb over the pulsing globes of his balls, feeling the soft, almost velvety skin dimpling under your touch.

Caleb grunts, and you flicker your gaze to him. His brows are furrowed, and he looks a second away from busting a vein, his face a light shade of puce.

“Caleb?” You softly call out to him in worry. “Are you—?”

“Yeah,” he gasps, and shakes his head, closing his eyes. “Jus’... didn’t expect you to feel this good…”

Good?

You feel… good?

Licking your lips, you focus your concentration on the fleshy plump head of his cock. If he has sensitive balls, Caleb is practically a timebomb of nerves on the tip of his arousal.

Flushed and sticky with pre, you swipe your thumb through the crease of his slit, gathering the milky white deposit and slowly bringing it to your mouth.

Salty. With a hint of bitterness.

Surprisingly, he tastes amazing—

Large hands yank your away from his cock.

He doesn’t give you the luxury of time to enjoy him.

Your world suddenly tilts and Caleb’s growl is loud in your ear. He has you pressed into the sheets, your face in the soft cotton, and his large palms kneading the doughy rise of your bare ass.

Smack!

You gasp and jerk back, indignation at the tip of your tongue. But, it dissipates when he drivels a finger right into your core, sinking fully into the heat of your pussy.

Your scream is muffled into the pillowy sheets, and he wastes no time in hooking his meaty digit up, hitting a spongy spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

With his other hand, he continues to spank you, little pert taps that grow in intensity as his frustration builds.

“Look - at - how - wet - you’re - getting,” he snarls, and withdraws his fingers to show you the trails webbing in between them, proof of your not-so-innocent reciprocation. Caleb taps his slick fingers to your lips, and you part them obediently, half-thrills of fear and lust curling up your spine.

The taste of you perforates your tongue. Sweet and musky, you've sampled your arousal before, but never from his hand. Gagging lightly on his digits, your eyes roll back into your head and you feel his fingers tickling your uvula.

Shit, he curses under his breath. You're too cute, Pipsqueak… too precious.

He moans as you gurgle his name. Cwaleb…

Throaty and sweet, you're the perfect symphony and he could listen to you all night.

Caleb withdraws his sticky fingers from the back of your throat with a damp, little ‘pop’ as his spit-slicked digits tap your cheek.

“Fuck, you're too perfect .”

He sets you back on your back, your pouty, glossy lips twisting in a smirk. Caleb hooks your ankles around his shoulders, and—showing he's about as virginal as a town bicycle—smooths his thumb through the mess of your folds.

His pointer catches on the lip of your gaping, swollen pussy, and he hums when he smears your love juices all around, making sure to get it as messy and creamy as possible.

Inching his thumb past the loosened ring of muscle, he grins.

The gooey, silky mess coats him to the knuckle. You're already pretty free and easy for him to slip his cock in.

“Just a little more, sweetness,” he coos, twisting his thumb, slipping it out only to replace it with his index finger. His now free thumb smears the cream of your arousal around, catching on the pearly mound of your clit as he deepens the pressure.

Nghh ahhh, Caleb! You cry out.

Your cheeks are warm, eyes glossy with heat and Caleb can't get enough of the way you're panting and twisting on the sheets, writhing like a prey caught in his trap.

It's too much. Too fucking much.

Desire turns your thoughts hazy. There’s a swollen spot inside of you that he manipulates with ease, pressing down on it— “S’good girl,” he murmurs into your neck. “Taking my fingers so well. You make me so damn proud, darlin’.”

You’re panting, lapping at the sweat beading on your upper lip.

It’s too hot.

He feels like a fucking furnace above you.

Bigger than any man you ever imagined to take, Caleb is a beast trapped in the body of the boy you love. His scent drenches you—cedar wood body soap bleeding into your pores, marking you as his. The scent of his aftershave grazes your cheek as he leans in to give you a sloppy, full-tongued kiss.

Mhmmph—you mewl, clinging onto him like ivy.

Your thighs wrap around his waist instinctively, and everything is primal when you finally give yourself up to him.

His plump, weepy tip catches on your pulsing opening, and he groans at the briefest contact of slick mingling together. You’re so wet, your pussy juices web with his pre, silvery strands clinging to the lip of that little hole he wants so badly to sink into.

Like the deepest tunnel in space, Caleb wants to venture where no man will ever go. He grasps the head of his cock and guides it right to where the blackhole of all his desires resides, rimming the opening where he swears nirvana throbs out his name.

Caleb… she calls out to him. Claim me. Come in me.

He answers her signal, forehead smushed with yours, his sweat dripping into your slack mouth.

It’s a strange sensation.

Fingers. Tampons. The occasional vibrator.

None of it can compare to the sheer volume and intensity of a real cock pushing past the envelope of your flesh. The ridges and bumps feel magnified as if there’s a forcefield of pleasure accompanying such penetration. Like it’s sucking you into a different dimension.

Your head spins and your gasps sound far away, like someone has plunged you right into a swimming pool.

The only anchor you have is Caleb’s broad shoulders.

You hold onto him as he rocks his hips forward, pleasure unfurling down your spine like a current.

Fuck… Caleb…

There’s nothing else in your mind but him.

The sound of his groans. The pinched furrow of ecstasy on his brow. His swollen lips hovering over yours.

Even the dim lighting of the room makes you feel cocooned in his embrace, safe from the horrors of the world.

It’s effortless, really, how he grasps your hips and opens you up to him like you’re a centerpiece dish all bared out and vulnerable.

Nimble hands arrange you into the meanest mating press as your legs dangle above you uselessly, swaying with every hard roll of his thrusts.

Caleb fucks like he wants to put you through the mattress.

There’s nothing romantic about this—a man hellbent on making you his. His cockhead smushes with your cervix in a romantic dance of fleeting French kisses. Marking you for days. God, you whine. God, you’re—

So good.

Oh, Caleb.

More. More.

You don’t even notice the light schmear of blood coating his length. Or, how the pinch of pain is overridden by the messy plap plap plap of your bodies meeting together.

You’ve just given up your virginity to the boy you love—the man who’s been with you through hell and back.

Caleb grabs your ankles and presses it down onto the pillows above your head, plunging his cock in and out, in and out. It’s sloppy and you’re making a mess everywhere.

Foamy white creams at the base of his cock, dribbling onto the dark sheets of his duvet.

Your body rocks with him, the bed creak creak creaking under the brunt of his thrusts.

He dwarfs you, a mountain of a man bruising the same golden spot that makes your toes curl in your periphery.

“Fuck,” he drawls, purple eyes gouging on your every reaction. “You— mhm —’re squeezin’ down so good, princess.” He huffs, dew drops of sin splattering from his lips and lapped up by your tongue on his jaw. Caleb groans, his hips stuttering. “Can’t get enough of you,” he starts to babble, face flush and eyes heavy with intoxication. Your pussy is the perfect drug for him.

He starts to whine, dog tags slicked with sweat and heavy with his body heat thudding against your jaw. You part your lips and bite down on the metal, tasting salt and tang. “You—ngmmm—feel too good… so good—ah, shit, sweetness—” Caleb curses, thick fingers dimpling into the flesh of your hips and tipping you up to be fuller of him.

C-can’t hold back, darlin’, he almost whimpers. I-I can’t… you gotta come with me. Come on, sweetness, give it to me… give me your cum, baby. That’s it, baby. Ooohhh, yes. Yes. There she is. Atta girl. Goooddd girl. Stay with me, baby. Don’t—lift your hips, fuck. Lemme rub that pretty pearl, darlin’. You look so good cummin’ all over me—

Your screams pierce the night air, echoing with a clap of thunder outside the windows. But, you can’t pay attention to storms, not when the biggest one is wrecking you apart.

Caleb moves like a man possessed, greasin’ his thumb around your pebbled clit, changing the angle so he’s pushing even deeper—

“Caleb!”

Your back arches off the bed, till only the crown of your head remains on the pillows. Caleb pushes back, drowning you back into the sheets, his whole body pressing down— “Shit, nghmmm! —” he grounds out in a low voice.

Almost a growl.

It makes your insides shiver around his cock. He doesn’t jackhammer you like those oiled-up studs do in pornos.

He takes it intensely, grinding his hips, injecting his rhythm with a few punctuating thrusts.

“Good —” you choke out. “—fuck me so good— ”

Yeah? He teases, dark bangs falling in his face, covering one of his magnetic violet irises.

Your body tenses, abs clenching, and he groans.

Tipping you further down the precipice, Caleb ducks his head and engorges his wet, hot mouth around your swollen nipples. He pinches the other one with his free hand, the spare still frigging your clit with the intensity of a madman.

Your eyes roll back into your head.

You clench—hard.

White hot paint splatters behind your closed eyes, imprinting on your lids and the world fades into hypersound as you scream:

Caaaleeeebbbb!

Oh, shit.

Your walls massage him better than any fleshlight could. Definitely a thousand times better than his hand.

He’s a goner right there and then.

Thick, fat spurts of hot, sticky cum fill you up. Neither he nor you care about what this means, pumping you to the brim until wet, gummy dribbles splotch down onto the bed. Caleb shudders like a great beast, and with one last, heaving push, he breeds you.

There’s nothing else in the ringing quiet but your ragged breath.

The world slowly comes back—a flickering flash of thunder. Caleb’s soft groan.

He pulls himself out, and the effect is a reverse weirdness of when he fucked himself in.

It leaves you gaping. Empty. You whine and he chuckles tiredly, gathering you into his arms.

All's silent for a few moments until you hear the bed creak and his weight off the mattress. Your blurry eyes open to find his massive, muscular frame in all its naked glory ambling to the bathroom. In a few moments, a warm softness glides between your puffy, well-abused folds, and you moan, twitching away.

“I know, I know,” he soothes. “But, I gotta get you cleaned up. Stay still, sweets.”

He wipes you down until you’re clean again, and tosses the soiled rag to the floor. Your arms open on autopilot for him, and Caleb chuckles, sinking back into the ring of warmth your body gives him.

Sighing into your hair, he tightens his grip around you. Outside, the eddies of raindrops swirl down the window panes, and another flash of thunderclaps. He slowly presses a kiss to your head, holding you tighter as a new storm rages unceasingly.

Caleb yanks the blankets up to your waist, and uses himself as a weighted one, pressing you into the soft mattress, much to your bubbling giggles. He smiles, loving the sound, and gently flicks your chin with his index finger.

“I didn’t hurt you, didn’t I?”

He moves to your side and you turn around, propping your head under your arm to gaze at him, a lovesick expression etched on your face.

Caleb mirrors your movement, also sliding his arm under his head, his other slung casually on your hip.

“Nah,” you admit after a beat of silence. “Didn’t even feel it.”

He pretends to pout. “Y’know, if you say that in a different context, I would get really, really hurt, Pipsqueak.”

You groan, and smack his chest. “Just like you to ruin the mood.”

He catches your hand, pressing your palm to his cheek with a boyish laugh.

“I’m kiddin'! Kidding, darlin’. C’mere—”

Yoinking you closer, he smears a kiss onto the nape of your neck.

As you trace his arm, he hums.

“You… really blew my mind,” he admits sheepishly.

“Huh. I did?” It’s your turn to tease him now. “Well… I guess so did you.”

You yelp when he pinches your ass playfully.

“‘Oh, Calebbbb ’.” He mocks your earlier moans. “‘Ahhhh moreee moreee— ’”

“Hey—!”

He lets you smack his chest, snickering in glee like a stupid boy.

“Juussstt kiddin’, sweets.” He kisses you right on your pouty lips. “Knew you’d be perfect. You’re always perfect.”

And, your heart melts.

“Really?” You whisper as a subtle flash of lightning illuminates one side of his grin. Warmth fills you up when he nods.

“Is it sad to say I’ve been dreamin’ about you like this for eons?”

You shake your head, a smile playing on the corners of your lips. Slightly breathless, you respond:

“I’ve been… thinking about you that way, too, baby.”

You expect him to make a stupid joke, or to diffuse the tender moment with his snark.

But, Caleb doesn’t do that. He loves being in this delicate bubble with you—and only you.

“Good,” he hums. “Because I’m not done with you yet, sweets—not by a lonnggg shot.”

a/n: comments and reblogs are very much appreciated ! thank you for reading ;D

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