#Dom and i watched this yesterday it was cool :•)

[bombuni]

the post-show high

summary: Jongho spots you in the crowd once and can’t let go of you. Unfortunately, so does Yeosang. Good thing they don’t mind sharing. (Or Seonghwa and Hongjoong are terrible wingmen, but they get the job done.) genre/pairing: lead singer!jongho x reader x bassist!yeosang, smut, band au, ft. drummer!mingi, guitarist!hongjoong & seonghwa’s there for vibes wc: 4.8k (i have issues when it comes to jongsang) warnings: SMUT MDNI, threesome, cursing, mentions of drinking, mean!dom!jongho, soft!dom!yeosang, sub!fem!reader, fingering champions jongsang, box munching king jongho, name-calling (jongho loves sluts), edging, creampies, spit kink, degradation, finger sucking, sloppy seconds, sort of cum-eating, aftercare, idk why it gets so soft at the end bom note: i had this thought and i said ‘i must bring chino moreno jongho to life’ jongsang stans pls fw my vision. also here’s a playlist i made! i think the music they’d make in this au is very much deftones style. lmk if i missed anything for the warnings!

It’s hot.

You don’t mind supporting Hongjoong and Mingi in their musical escapades, but it’s crowded. When they’d told you they were in a band, you half-expected them to be playing in a low-down unknown bar with 2 patrons. You hadn’t expected to be crowded by fans, all (not) patiently waiting for the set to start. Seonghwa stood beside you, pouting every time he was shoved into. He looked out of place, elegant and prince-like in a sea of punk-rockers wearing crust pants and in yesterday’s makeup.

He seems at ease, though. Having been to multiple of Hongjoong’s shows at this point, he’s become accustomed to the intense pits, the broken noses, and the lingering stench of weed. The multitudes of drinks he’s been having seem to help too. You stand by and watch as his cheeks get redder and redder throughout the night.

He points his drink at you while he speaks, “You know, Hongjoong wants to set you up with the singer, Jongho. Said he seems like your type,”

You scoff at that, “No way! The last guy he tried to set me up with ended up being a total weirdo,”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes, “A foot fetish isn’t the weirdest thing out there. Besides, Yunho’s actually pretty cool,” he raises his brows at you, but continues when he sees you’re not changing your mind, “Fine. Go with my option. I wanted to set you up with their bassist. You like nice guys, right?”

The lights dim, giving you an easy out to Seonghwa’s terrible match-making ideas, “The fact you think I’m ever trusting you or Hongjoong again is laughable.”

Seonghwa can’t respond as the band steps on stage, a rush of excitement flowing through you when you see Hongjoong and Mingi in their spots. They both wave at you in the front row, Hongjoong’s smile growing extra wide when he sees Seonghwa. The bassist smiles at the crowd, his pink cheeks shining in the light. You wonder how such a cherub-looking guy ended up in a hard band like this. Though, his black tank top revealing his muscular form makes your head spin from how different his body is from his innocent-looking face.

Hongjoong seems at home on the stage, “How we doing tonight?” His hype seems to work as the crowd cheers loudly and unapologetically, “Thanks to KQ bar for having us. I’m Hongjoong, that’s Yeosang, our bassist, and we got Mingi on drums. Seems like we’re missing someone, though,”

Mingi’s voice rumbles through the microphone, “Bring Jongho out!”

The crowd seems to squish you impossibly more, their screams nearly drowning your own thoughts. Rightfully so, as the lead singer walks out with a confidence that you envy. His leather pants shine under the stage lights, and he seems to bask in the attention he gets. His smirk grows with every step he takes towards the main stage. You feel he’s cocky, and you hate that you like it.

“Hello, KQ,” He seems to command the room, silence enveloping the crowd when he speaks, “I’m glad you could make it tonight-“

Jongho scans the crowd, but he seems to pause at the sight of you. He still wears the smug look, ego wafting in the room and getting under your skin. It’s a smaller venue and you’re somewhat close, so it’s easy to tell that he’s staring at you and no one else.

He points directly at you, finger seemingly digging into your soul, “Let’s have fun tonight.”

With that, the set starts. Mingi’s drums burst through your chest, the slow start to their first song hypnotizes you. The sound of the bass is what draws you in, and you look towards Yeosang, who’s putting his entire heart into the sound. His fingers are delicate and pretty, the complete opposite to most bass players you’ve seen. They strum expertly, long digits reaching to find the right note every time. You figure they could reach anywhere.

He must feel your eyes on him. Yeosang looks up with a focused, stoic look plastered on his face as he watches the scenery. As he looks around you lock eyes with him, a shy smile growing on his face when he realizes you aren’t looking away. It seems to fuel his performance when he goes back to looking down at his bass.

The music is intense, Hongjoong and Mingi clearly pouring their passion into it. You know them and expected this fervor, but it surprises you when it comes from Jongho and Yeosang too. Jongho’s voice sends chills down your spine with every high note sung. It reaches out to you, pulling the passion and feeling from you and taking that energy for his own growth. Watching him is watching art being made.

The set ends, and the 4 sweaty men on stage bow and thank the crowd. You feel Jongho’s eyes on you again, that same soul-marking finger calling your attention to wink at you before he walks off the stage. Yeosang seems to call your attention too, a subtle wave landing your way before he too disappears behind the curtain.

As the lights flicker back on, Seonghwa turns to you with a sparkle in his eye, “That was amazing! We need to go buy them drinks,”

You shrug, imposing nonchalance even though your face is turning red at the thought of meeting face to face with them after that, “Sure, sounds good.”

Seonghwa raises a brow before laughing at your reluctance, “Don’t think I didn’t see that by the way. Yeosang was totally into you,”

You scoff and turn to walk towards the bar, “Shut up, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa harrumphs, but follows behind you. It’s easy to spot Hongjoong’s blonde head of hair among the sea of people, “Joongie, stop hogging all the talent,”

He turns laughing at you, his warm arms wrapping around you, “Can’t stop, won’t stop, baby,”

“Hongjoong! That was your best performance yet. But can we talk about how Yeosang was totally eye-fucking Y/N the entire time?” Seonghwa’s somewhat tipsy, you conclude.

Hongjoong leans on the bar, “Uh…no. I’m still betting on Jongho and her. You know he was asking about you?”

You roll your eyes at their insistence, “You just finished a set, why're you worried about my love life?”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes at you as he’s given a tray of drinks, handing some off to you and Seonghwa before walking ahead, “Come on, Jongho wants to meet you.”

He leads you towards the backstage. Hongjoong opens a door marked with a flimsy sheet of notebook paper, their band name written in purple marker. You hear Jongho’s voice before anything else. It’s embedded in your brain at this point. As you walk further in, his large frame and slicked back hair intimidates you. You fear you’ve fallen for him already. With his hands in his leather jacket, he greets you with a lazy smirk. You can feel the stardom radiating off of him. It lets you know that whatever arrogance he has is completely warranted.

Before you can even say anything, Hongjoong makes a dumb excuse about forgetting something that requires him, Seonghwa, and Mingi. They leave quickly, knowing your protests would come faster.

You sigh inwardly to yourself, but Jongho seems all too pleased to be alone with you, “How ‘bout a drink?”

He sits on the battered leather couch, legs spread and waiting for you to sit next to him. He raises a brow when you sit on the seat opposite him before handing you a shot glass, “Hongjoong said you’re looking for a date,” His voice is quieter, softer now. There’s certainly a step down from his stage presence to the Jongho you’re talking to now. Maybe you were just being harsh in the assumption he’d be a pompous asshole earlier. You don’t let yourself soften, though.

You snort, “Well, Hongjoong doesn’t know what he’s talking about,”

Jongho downs his glass in a flash, turning to you with a charming smirk that makes you want to kiss it off his face, “So it’s off the table?”

He says this like it’s an easy, everyday question. His poignant flirting sends a blush to your cheeks that glows under the dim lightbulb of the broken down room. Jongho thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. You down your shot and he’s ready to up the ante on the flirting before Yeosang appears, wiping a towel over his sweaty face and greeting you with a soft smile that sends butterflies down your tummy.

“Yeosang, this is-“

“Y/N, right? Seonghwa told me about you. How’d you like the show?”

God, you did not expect a voice like that, to come out of a face like that. His brown hair sticks to his forehead and his pale skin glows under the light, those same fingers you were admiring on stage are much more daunting close-up. They distract you as he taps on the arm of the seat across you, almost tauntingly.

“Oh-um, it was great. You guys seem to really enjoy what you do,”

They stare at you with half-lidded gazes, like they’re chewing on your words in their heads and analyzing you as a person. You’d believe they hate you, if it weren’t for the teasing, venemous grins they wore on their faces. They’ve been around groupies long enough to recognize them, and you might not be one of them, but God, Jongho wants to train you until you only remember their names.

Jongho doesn’t take his eyes off you, but he addresses Yeosang, “Y/N was just telling me about how much she loves the band,”

Yeosang leans his head on the palm of his hand, his biceps popping in the lighting, “Hmm, do you?”

You scoff to try to shake off their gazes, reaching for another glass, “You guys believe Hongjoong way too much,”

Jongho grins at you like a predator, “I heard it from Mingi,”

Yeosang’s smile is teasing, “I heard it from Seonghwa,”

You’re outnumbered, so you don’t even bother saying anything about the teasing. The overflowing chatter outside and booming music drowns out any thoughts you attempt to have. You fear they can somehow hear your beating heart, like they’re zeroing in on you and preparing to eat you alive. Yeosang’s hands tap against the chair again, your eyes flying to study the way they flex.

Jongho pipes up again, “You seem to like Yeosang’s hands a lot. You know, he’ll play whatever song you like.”

Yeosang stretches his fingers, watching the way your blush grows and the way your grasp tightens against the glass in your hand, “I’ll do whatever you want,”

Yeosang stands from his seat and moves to stand in front of you. It forces your eyes upwards, his body heat and proximity turning your entire body into jelly. Suddenly, Jongho speaks up and his soft voice is the worst vice you’ve faced yet, “Why don’t you let us give you a private show? Hmm?” His head tilts softly, the smug smile on his face as he leans back into the couch filling you with annoyance and desire.

You nod softly, mind a haze and heat pooling inside you. Yeosang reaches his hand up to your chin, pulling your mouth open with his thumb before pushing it between your lips. He watches with rapt interest as your tongue swirls around his digit, lips fighting to pull all of the sweat clean off his hand. The sound turns them on more than ever, the feeling of your saliva coating his fingers fueling the fire in his gut. He removes his thumb, playing with your lips as you leave tiny kisses over his fingers before he inserts his forefingers. You work on them again, saliva strings building between his hand and your mouth every time he pulls away.

“You’re nasty, baby,” Jongho’s smug voice pipes up.

Once Yeosang deems his hand wet enough he sits down next to you, slowly trailing his hand down your tummy and into your jeans. It’s a tight fit, but Jongho reaches over to unbutton your pants for him. As soon as he does, Yeosang’s hand slips into your panties and finds your clit, rubbing gentle circles over it and groaning at the wetness that grows underneath his fingers.

Jongho seems content with watching you break. You writhe underneath Yeosang’s fingers as he expertly finds just the right spot and abuses it. You feel dirty with the wet spot that continues to grow on your pants, quiet moans filling the room alongside Yeosang’s panting breaths. Your hand grasps Yeosang’s when he runs his fingers along your folds, spreading your wetness against your skin and moaning at the feeling of you so turned on. He takes his hand out of your pants, the shine of your slick glistening in his eyes. He brings his forefingers to his lips, running his tongue along the length of them before he sucks them clean. He makes sure to be lewd about it, licking every single drop of your juices and smiling at you with your slick on his lips.

“Hmm, you liked that didn’t you?” Jongho hums as he stands to you, pulling your pants off in one swift motion. He kneels in front of you, running his palm over your wet panties. His large hand is different from Yeosang’s delicate fingers. He has a domineering touch that doesn’t stop as he holds your thighs over his shoulders, pulling your panties down. His hands send tingles of pleasure down your spine when he kneads your skin, taking his time to feel and memorize every inch of you.

Jongho’s fingers run through your slit, smearing the wetness that drips out of you. He teases you, watching as your impatience grows while his fingers stray from where you want them most. Suddenly, his lips are on you. He devours you like you’re the first meal he’s had in days, a man starved of the fruit between your legs. His tongue slips inside you and over you, tracing every inch of you and leaving a path of pleasure. He ravishes you while Yeosang watches beside you, his hands making quick work of your shirt.

They seem to have developed a system. They’re far too comfortable with sharing. The thought doesn’t really form in your head as Jongho keeps marking you with his mouth, small kisses landing anywhere he can reach. He smirks at you when a whine slips from your lips when he spreads your thighs further, a glob of spit flowing from his pouty lips and onto you. He hisses at the sight, the shine of your pussy filling his gut with desire. His lips latch back onto your clit, his forefingers making their way inside you. He curls them ever so slightly, fucking you over and over again as his tongue flicks your button. Jongho’s already figured out how you work, destroying you with a smile and a glint in his eyes from below.

Yeosang giggles when he sees you aren’t wearing a bra, “You got a nice rack.”

You admit if anyone else spoke those words to you, you would’ve found it demeaning. But the way Yeosang’s soft voice compliments you sends a new wave of flames over your body.

Jongho grins and removes his lips from you, “Knew you were a fucking slut,”

You shake your head, but Jongho’s got you pegged. The feeling of having two men’s attention on you at once is exhilarating. It has you on cloud nine. Jongho raises the speed of his fingers, the squelch of your pussy sounding out into the room. Yeosang’s hands fondle your tits, his thumb brushing over your nipple and bringing a sigh out of you.

He sends butterfly kisses down your jawline, “Hmm, she’s a nice slut, though. The prettiest one I’ve seen,”

He’s too angelic. Everything about him is elegant and graceful, even the way he touches you. His low tone vibrates through your body, clashing with the harsh way Jongho keeps fucking you. He dominates the lower part of you, as if his hands have found their home. The juxtaposition between them sends your system into overdrive.

“You wanna cum?” You nod frantically, “Use your words, slut.”

“P-please, Jongho…”

Yeosang coos, “Even the way she begs is cute,”

Your legs are shaking at this point and Jongho’s cock is leaking in his pants, weeping to be let out. Still, he lives to torture, “You can’t cum without my permission,” Your leg muscles clamp up, pouring all of your energy into not letting your orgasm slip out of you. Jongho notices your strain, “Look at you. What a good fucking slut you are.”

His fingers slip out of you and you whine at the loss, Yeosang’s gentle fingers playing with your nipples is simply not enough friction. Jongho stands, pulling you up with him, “If you can take Yeosang’s cock, I’ll let you cum on mine. Deal?”

You don't even understand what you’re agreeing to, but you follow Jongho’s orders. You feel Yeosang stand behind you, his arms wrapping around your torso and walking you until you’re in front of the coffee table in the middle of the room. He bends you over it, your knees knocking onto the soft carpet underneath. You don’t think about how long ago it must’ve last been cleaned. You just think about Jongho sitting cross legged on the couch in front of you, his hand resting on his hard cock in his pants. He’s eyeing you like a piece of meat as Yeosang leans over your back, his nose nuzzling against your hair. His long fingers run over the expanse of your back, the cold feeling sending shivers down your spine.

He leans back and spreads your ass, groaning at the sight of you dripping. You hear the sound of his belt buckle dropping and your nerves rise before a soothing hand drops onto your hips, massaging your skin. His voice rings right into your ear, “Don’t worry, angel. I’m not as mean as Jongho,” Said man scoffs, the slightest hint of a blush noticeable under the light. Before you can say anything, Yeosang’s cock teases your entrance, playing with your pussy with his tip. The feeling makes you whine, already edging into dangerous territory.

Yeosang slides in entirely, his long cock reaching the deepest parts of you. Your entire body goes numb as he gently thrusts, bouts of pleasure rising through every part of your body. He’s whining pathetically, trying not to lose his mind and keep control at the feeling of your pussy squeezing him, “S-she’s so tight, Jongho, shit.”

Jongho’s fidgeting in his seat, palming himself like there’s no tomorrow and attempting to hide how weak he is already, “How tight, Yeosang?”

Yeosang steadies himself on your hips, the speed of his thrusts increasing. He’s like a desperate puppy trying to get his rocks off, his sweaty shirt on your back as he leans his head on your shoulder. He’s lost himself to the pleasure. He moans into your ear, his heavy breaths a performance made just for you.

“This is the best pussy I’ve had. Right, angel? You’re being good for me?” he pants out.

You moan at the praise, “Y-yes, Yeosang, all for you,”

Jongho’s restless now. Watching the way the table shakes from Yeosang’s thrusts and the way you take it so well has him anxious to get inside of you. His cock strains in his pants, but he’ll wait until Yeosang’s had his fill. Yeosang’s balls slap against your ass, the lewd sounds of his cock ramming in and out of you filling Jongho’s ears. You feel yourself dripping down your thighs as Yeosang’s hand comes down to your clit. That seems to reignite you, an unbeatable wave of pleasure flooding over you. As Yeosang rubs circles on you, you clench down on him. He moans at the tightness, his hips and hand stuttering against you.

Jongho senses your struggling, “Remember what I said, slut,” your thighs tremble, “Or are you too cock-dumb right now?”

You shake your head but quickly fix your mistake, “N-no, Jongho,”

Your voice shakes against Yeosang’s hips pistoning into you, all rhythm lost as he chases his high. He’s practically breathing for you now, his arms wrapped around your chest while his head rests on yours. He exerts all of his power, which is quite a lot surprisingly, into making you feel every inch of his cock. Jongho’s eyes bore into yours as he watches you unravel, your glistening skin and teary eyes making his cock jump.

Just to make your torture worse, he leans into your face. His thumb pries open your lips, inviting itself into your mouth and taking control of you, “You’re the best cock-slut I’ve seen. Taking Yeosang so well. Is he making you feel good?”

His voice is silky and entrancing and you can’t help but give an honest answer, “S-so good, Jongho. Can I cum? Please?”

His sick smirk grows, “Nope.”

A desperate whine drips from your lips, the burning desire bursting through to Yeosang’s cock as you squeeze him again. This time, a myriad of beautifully pathetic whines fall from Yeosang’s lips as he’s drained by you. He stills deep inside you, letting himself fill you and mark you as his property. He watches it drip down your thighs, the pearlescent liquid falling in droplets as you tremble.

Yeosang catches you before you can fall onto the table, “I think she’s broken,”

He carries you, again with surprising ease, onto Jongho’s lap. You lay limp against him, the leather of his jacket waking you slightly as he wraps his arms around you, “Already? I haven’t even fucked you yet,”

You nod your head, “I-I can take it, I wanna cum, Jongho,”

He laughs at you, head tipping and revealing the kissable dot on his neck, “See? You’re a fucking slut, baby,” his arms wrap tighter around you, one of his hands coming down to your clit and rubbing lazily, “Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of you,”

Yeosang sits next to you, sitting and watching the way your pussy tries to keep his cum inside. Jongho’s fingers stuff it back in, catching any that’s still stuck on your thighs and putting it back where it belongs. He brings his hand up to your lips, your mouth opening automatically and accepting what he gives. Your tongue swirls to clean every inch of his hand, licking the sweat and cum off of his skin. Jongho lets out a shaky breath behind you.

Yeosang feels his cock standing again, the sight of you so easily submitting to Jongho getting him ready to go all over again, “Fuck, I need to feel that pussy again.”

Jongho unzips his pants underneath you. You feel his cock at your entrance as he slides it in between your folds, wanting to torture you even more. He’s smaller than Yeosang but much, much thicker. Yeosang’s cum lets you take Jongho’s cock much easier, the stretch from before easing him in. You moan at the feeling, the fullness overtaking your senses.

Jongho leans back and stables himself on the floor. His voice is powerful against you, the sound of it alone making you shake in anticipation, “I’m gonna fill you up with my cum, and then you can cum all over me. Understand?”

He doesn’t even let you answer before starting a wicked rhythm. He claps against you with no mercy, his grip on your hips holding you steady on his lap. It’s delicious, the way he bounces you up and down on his cock and thrusts up into you at the same time. Jongho growls as your cream and Yeosang’s cum makes a mess of the both of you. Yeosang watches your tits bounce. The stench of sex fills the room and depravity fills his senses.

The power of Jongho’s thrusts almost has you toppling over. He’s ravenous with the way he fucks you, thick cock ramming into you over and over from below. Jongho fucking loves the feeling of having you broken atop him, having you at your most vulnerable and sensitive right under his fingertips. He squeezes your hips, groaning when you squeeze back.

His head drops to the couch, letting you drop and feel every inch and vein of his cock. The stretch of him is painfully delicious. Yeosang takes this moment of pause to snake a hand to your clit, causing you to jolt when he begins rubbing circles.

“Y-yeosang…” you plead as you feel a tsunami of pleasure coming closer and closer to falling atop you.

He kisses along your neck, the ticklish sensation sending you into overdrive. Along with Jongho’s cock filling you and taking over your very being, you feel like you’re fighting a losing battle. You’re determined to follow Jongho’s rules, though.

Yeosang chuckles into your neck, “Just let her cum, Jongho,”

“Yeah, baby? Do you need to cum?” He asks flatly, slamming you down harshly onto his cock again.

“P-please, I need to cum so b-bad…”

You feel like you’re about to burst and you’re sure Jongho can feel it too. He doesn’t care, laughing as you continue to writhe and moan against Yeosang’s fingers, “I told you I’m gonna fill this pussy with my cum first, okay? Stop being so fucking cock-dumb already,”

He leans back further into the couch, bringing your back to his chest as he gathers his last bit of force to fuck up into you. He hangs off the edge of the couch slightly, but that’s not even a thought in his head as he continues to ram himself into you unforgivingly. Yeosang continues to tease and probe your bud, an evil smile forming on his face the longer he watches you unravel atop Jongho’s rabid hips.

Jongho hisses when he feels you tighten. Your hole is too fucking good, draining him for all he has. He gives one last powerful thrust before releasing his load inside of you, his balls tightening up against you as he jolts and spasms underneath you. His cock twitches inside of you and with the feeling of him finally filling you and Yeosang’s relentless fingers, you come undone. The pleasure that’s been building this entire time finally releases like a broken dam. It washes over you, unabated even after all this time. You feel every single one of your nerves explode inside you, your body seizing up against Jongho’s as your pussy tightens impossibly more to take all Jongho has to give.

Yeosang sighs against you, “Oh, angel, you take us so well,”

Just knowing that you have Yeosang’s and Jongho’s cum flowing inside you has your entire body tingling. It sends you into an even higher tier of gratification, your orgasm prolonging every time Jongho spurts another shot of cum into you.

Jongho’s voice is strained as he speaks, “Fuck, look what a fucking dirty cum-slut you are.”

It’s hard to get off of cloud nine once you’ve reached it. You can distantly hear their soft voices in the back of your head, vastly different from their tones before. You feel the leather couch underneath your back, their cum dripping out of you, and Yeosang’s hand gently running through your hair.

He tries to lure you fully awake, but that doesn’t happen until Jongho brings a warm towel to clean you. Your teary eyes squint under the light and you’re surprised at how weak you feel. Your body feels like jelly as Jongho hands Yeosang a towel to clean up the sweat on your upper body.

You’re not entirely sure what’s happening, but a blur of emotions is still flowing through you, “Hey…you don’t have to…” you sleepily let out.

They don’t say anything in return so neither do you. Jongho slips your panties back on, Yeosang pulling you softly upwards to put your shirt back on. You feel surprisingly cared for after getting your brains fucked out. You hadn’t expected it from two guys who probably do this every night.

They sit with you as you gather your bearings. Jongho traces patterns onto your legs, mindlessly staring at you. It sends a different kind of heat to your body. The kind that has you shrinking into yourself, blushing and hiding your face in your hands. You pretend it’s from sleepiness, but Jongho knows better. Yeosang hums beside your head, still running his hands through your hair delicately.

You feel more alive after a while, finally gathering the energy to sit up, “This doesn’t mean I’m your groupie now, by the way,”

“You would’ve been my favorite,” Jongho grins.

Yeosang pouts, “I don’t think Hongjoong would approve,” You both raise a brow at him, “What? He has the power to kick me out of the band, I have to be careful.”

Jongho laughs aloud as you giggle alongside him. You sort of feel at home with them, and not just because they rearranged your guts. They touch you softly, in ways that say they know everything about you. You’d rather not fall into that hole. Right now, you lay content in the moment in between them in this dingy room with their hands on you.

[starry-fame]

18+ Overboard [Caleb x Gender Neutral!reader/MC]

Summary:

“You planning on going back to bed soon? Or what?”

You chew on your lip, trying to gauge the meaning in his words. You pull up nothing, so you decide to just answer honestly. “…Not really.”

“Alright then, keep me company.” Caleb swings around to face the foyer, casting a long glance over his shoulder. “I’ve always been more of a night owl anyway.”

The liar. Caleb’s always been able to get up at the crack of dawn since he was a teen. It’s such an obvious fib, but he says it anyway, shamelessly directing you to his room.

Like a moth to a flame, you follow.

Tags: Smut, Pining, Confessions, Porn with feelings, Dom/Sub Undertones, Overstimulation, Body Worship, Penetration, Rough Sex, Begging Ambiguous Genitalia!reader/MC, Gender neutral!reader/MC

Word Count: 11,734

Author's Notes: I posted this a while ago on ao3 and wanted to try tumblr as well! I can also post silly MC stuff and character edits haha. Anyway, I hope Caleb lovers enjoy! Also, certain parts technically aren't canon as of A World Underneath release, but that's okay :')

Ao3 Check out Linkon Lounge, an 18+ Lads Themed Otome Discord Server! We stream otome/anime/movies, have lads boys rp/text bots (+Caleb ofc), and chill!

Masterlist

Sequel - Caleb Loves to Bully You in Bed

It burns.

The air’s filled with plumes of smoke, darkened to an ugly red clouded in ash. It waters your eyes and fills your lungs with soot, wracking you with dry coughs that destroy your throat. It’s hot — so hot — your body feels heavy. You’re crawling — you think? But the ground seems to slide beneath you, and your palms scrape against the concrete, bloodied.

Though your ears ring a terrible, destitute tune and your chest cries in agony — the only thing your mind screams is to get away. Run. Crawl. Slide. Drag your useless limbs and get away. You have to run; stand up and run but your body just lays there.

It’s coming. You can’t get away — you’ll die. You don’t want to die. Shelter’s right there. So close — so close. You drag past a mangled, severed arm, and instantly retch. But you keep moving. So near. Right there. But the sound of inhuman dragging grates your ears behind you and—

Your eyes shoot open, body doused in a sheen of sweat and heart ready to burst. The sheets feel far too sticky and clammy under your fingers and you’re quick to peel them off — rid yourself of anything that makes you feel hot. Confined.

One breath, two, three… it takes a moment to gather your bearings. You’re not freshly seven drowning in a sea of pain and desperate tears. You’re in your childhood home, resting on your sheets and surrounded by memories of the past.

Seems that no matter how much time passes, your dreams will always find a way to torment you as though you lived them yesterday.

What a mood-killer. You’re finally in your old home after an extended absence, and all your mind can do is taunt you by conjuring up your darkest memories.

The room’s bathed in darkness — a glance at your watch shows it’s late in the middle of the night. Not exactly time to rise, but you’re not so trusting of your dreams either. The sweat that dampens your brows and the front of your shirt feels disgusting, so you fan yourself mindlessly. You have to do something, be anywhere but here.

You’re quick to stand, stumbling a little from the sudden shift in gravity. Your eyes are still bleary, crusted, and you rub at them as you trudge out your room.

The house is dead silent, which only makes the sound of your footsteps more apparent, has you silently wincing at every step. Still, you do your best to move quiet as you can to the fridge. Grab yourself a water and chug about half of it in one gulp, cooling your clammy skin and ridding that feeling of scalding — of hot ash coating your throat. You enjoy the crinkle of the cool bottle in your grasp, how the mundane, predictable noise reminds you of reality and the now.

The incessant buzz of crickets in the distance is almost calming. The house is otherwise tranquil and calm. Peace and — you hear a quiet thump. Okay, not as quiet as you thought. Setting the bottle down, you slowly turn toward the noise, reminding your quickening pulse that unless your hunter’s watch is buzzing with a warning, there’s no imminent danger.

A few footsteps and… a tall figure emerges from the doorway, bending so he can properly fit through. Though he’s doused in shadow and you can only make out the slight glimmer of his two-toned irises, his name naturally falls from your lips.

“Caleb…”

“Thought I heard someone sneaking around in here. Why am I not surprised?” He languidly strides across the moonlit room, pausing to gently ruffle your hair like its tradition; he’s been doing it for so long, it might as well be. Even when you two were little and you had a bit of height on him (he’d prop up on his tip toes to pat your head — it was pretty adorable, in hindsight.) So you can’t bring yourself to swat his hand away as he goes for the fridge to grab a drink of his own.

Instead of drinking, though, Caleb pauses and scrutinizes the water, like it did a personal wrong to him. Before you get the chance to probe his mind, he presses the chilled bottle against your forehead. The cold makes you flinch on instinct and shoot a quick glare at him.

“What was that for?”

“Wake up call. Did you get thirsty in the middle of the night? Or you just can’t sleep?” He raises a brow, wearing a grin coated with worry as he takes a drink. Caleb’s always been terribly perceptive, he seemed to just know when you were having a terrible day or if something was amiss. Whether it was the years you’ve spent in each other’s company or Caleb’s innate sensitivity to human emotion, you have no clue. A mix of both, maybe.

Like always, he watches. You look away.

“Thirsty.”

“Uh huh. And I guess all that thirst’s what made your eyes red. You’re looking a little hot there too. Should I crank up the A/C?” Caleb raises a brow, and you wonder why he even bothers asking when he comes to his own conclusions. He should hardly be able to tell these things in the dark — does he just know? Or are the faint streaks of moonlight through the window just enough to tell him everything he needs?

“It’s not a bad thing to admit when you’re having nightmares, y’know. I mean, when you were a kid, you’d come knocking on my door in near tears and—“

“I get it, Caleb. I don’t need the whole rundown.” You snap, fighting the immediate embarrassment that wells up at your vulnerability and dependence as a child. For how strong you like to deem yourself now, it’s not like that was always the case. You were an easily frightened kid, especially jumpy after the attack. You clung to everyone and everything around you because you lost everything you held dear once before.

“And for the record,” you add, “it was a two way street. I can name a few times you came to my room saying you just wanted to talk. You look like you’d been crying for the past hour.” Right. Seeking solace in one another because you were confused kids who had their lives flipped upside down in a single afternoon.

You and Caleb were friends before the tragedy, neighbors who played together a few times at most. Not best friends, but he was the nice kid down the block you enjoyed spending time with.

When you found Caleb during the Catastrophe, you remember like it was only days ago. Crawling frantically, trying not to collapse from the pain that engulfed your being enough to make your vision swirl. In the makeshift shelter, you saw a few injured adults — some minimal, some fatal, and even fewer children crying tended to by lesser wounded adults. You could barely sit up. Someone tried to offer assistance, you think, but then a kid your size rushed beside you and knelt down, asking if you were okay.

Your ears were ringing and you could barely get a noise out, but you could tilt your head up and see those raven eyes with a hint of amber, full of absolute terror. You whispered his name so hoarse — “Caleb…” and like the turning of a faucet, an ugly mesh of tears and mucus immediately began streaming down your face. The smell of red — death, the sights, your bloodied hands, aching body, screaming heart, all honed in at once. All you could do was sob while Caleb knelt down beside you and cradled your head, tears prickling his eyes. It didn’t take long for you two to break down in one another’s arms.

From then on, you couldn’t help but stick to Caleb like glue. Caleb was the only person you had connected to your old life — the only remaining stability when everything else crumbled to dust. When you were bundled in your room and didn’t even want to talk to Grandma because she was some strange adult whom you now lived with — Caleb would sit in with you. He’d remain as long as he had to, validate every last awful thought you had in your frustrations and soothe you with sweet caresses and gentle words. As embarrassing as it is to recall, as a child, he was your lifeline. Caleb’s the reason you didn’t run away in a frenzy when everything was too much and you felt like you just needed to be away and gone. He’s the reason you were able to eventually adapt to your new lifestyle and warm up to Grandma over time. It’s ridiculous, really, how much Caleb meant and was able to do for you by just existing as himself. Caleb could sit in your room minding his business, and his presence alone was enough to soothe your tired limbs and mind from punching your pillows and recalling every terrible thing that happened that fated day.

He was always there for you, one way or another. It’s just the way it’s always been.

It’d be nice if you had something of an effect like that on him, too.

“Right. Because sometimes a little chat is all you need when you’re not doing so hot,” Caleb says, leaning on the counter and gesturing his bottle to you. Yeah, just like him alright, to flip it around on you even when you try to call him out. Makes it feel like every conversation with him is a losing battle, like he always has the upper hand because he knows just the right thing to say and how to say it.

“Alright, alright. Yeah, I had a nightmare. Happy?” You sigh, resigned at this point. You can’t even really be angry when Caleb’s been nothing but reasonable from the start, speaks out of pure care and concern. Rather, perhaps it’s the fact that he’s always reasonable you tend to get irate.

“‘Course not. It’s not like I like hearing you still get them. But it���s nice to have someone to talk to instead of keeping it all to yourself, right?” His eyes crinkle so sweetly, non-judgmental. It’s that look that always breaks you, forces you to spill anything and everything he can pull from you. He never takes advantage, just offers support, so you fall into his trap every time.

“It’s not like I’m a kid anymore. I can’t just run to you every time I have a bad dream,” you still utter. It’s weak at best, but you can’t toss all your issues onto Caleb like you did as a child. He lost everything that day too, and he still took the time to comfort and spoil you every single time you sought him out (or he came to you), no matter the day or hour. How many of those times did he cry himself, but choke back the tears just so he could attend to you?

“I didn’t say all that. But it’s not gonna kill you to quit bottling up your emotions, y’know.” The amber in Caleb’s eyes seem to flash, and yours flicker down in turn. Sometimes it feels like he still sees the same seven-year-old you once were, pitiful and dependent.

“I… know that. It’s just….”

A heavy breath leaves Caleb’s nose. He closes his eyes, sits on his words, and opens them with a twinkle of clarity.

“You gonna fall back asleep soon?”

You blink. “Huh?” Caleb doubles down.

“You planning on going back to bed soon? Or what?”

You chew on your lip, trying to gauge the meaning in his words. You pull up nothing, so you decide to just answer honestly. “…Not really.”

“Alright then, keep me company.” Caleb swings around to face the foyer, casting a long glance over his shoulder. “I’ve always been more of a night owl anyway.”

The liar. Caleb’s always been able to get up at the crack of dawn since he was a teen. It’s such an obvious fib, but he says it anyway, shamelessly directing you to his room.

You’ll let him have this one though; swallow your complaints and choose his method. You dip your head and follow him to his room, still decorated with posters of My Life as a Hunter and old-school shooter games he raved over as a kid. Though he grew a passion for piloting after a period, he still had an interest in Hunter shows as an early teen, posters and figures scattered about his room proof as such. You think they existed in attempt to ease the public into the idea of Hunters, hell, even to coerce a few impressionable people in the process. A small part of you always wanted a way to reign in control of your life, to be someone who can do the saving, not sit in tears and wait to be saved. The show just increased your resolve, if anything. Though, you remember a short period where Caleb tried to convince you otherwise.

Eventually, you think he understood well enough to quietly show his support, if only because you weren’t backing down. And it tickles the nose a little, knowing you’re now something he admired with sparkling eyes as a kid.

Like always, he sits on his bed, and you take a spot in the swivel chair at his desk, idly spinning back and fourth. There’s a dim, pale night light to give the room a low glow. It’s easy on the eyes and you can still comfortably make out the ridges of Caleb’s face, his indiscernible expression when he settles and just seems to think.

“…Feels like we haven’t done this in forever,” You murmur, eyes trailing around each and every corner. You well with nostalgia, so much it makes your heart ache, bittersweet.

“Yeah, guess we didn’t get much time once I left. Not soon after you were off getting your Hunter’s license, so we were both pretty busy,” Caleb responds, and you wonder if he feels the same way you do. A tinge of sadness, but serenity at the familiar scene. Getting to sit in one another’s company like you always would in the past.

“Getting used to you not always being around was…” It feels embarrassing to just admit how much you missed him, how empty the house felt without his lively presence. “Hard. Harder than I expected, anyway.”

“It was weird not waking up to Gran’s cooking or your demands, that’s for sure.”

“Demands?”

“Don’t take it the wrong way. You always act so proper around other people, but not with me and Gran. Everyone needs a place to loosen up, someone you can just be yourself around. And a little selfish.” Caleb’s laugh makes your cheeks warm, though your ears seem to love it. It fills you with various memories and you realize man, you really missed Caleb. When you talk, it’s like you two were never separated. But it’s times like these the feeling of truly getting to see him every day, just be with him, swells in your heart. You sigh, grasp your nightshirt, and peer at Caleb through your lashes because you fear how telling your expression is.

“Then… is it the same for you? Or was it easier to loosen up around your friends?” You ask nonchalantly, as though the question wasn’t gnawing at you from the inside out. Did Caleb feel at home, or like he had to put on a show and be the ‘strong one’, only able to let loose when he’s around peers and not biting off more than he can chew?

“Mmm…” You hear a low hum, and fingers ghost over your forehead, gone before you can even get a noise out. Caleb watches you intently, enough to make you break his gaze first. He looks pleased.

“It’s different with other friends, sure. Because you’re not them, and they’re not you. There’s ways I can relax with them, and reasons I can relax here,” he answers. His gaze feels loaded, and you vaguely wonder if there’s more to that answer with how his eyes bore into you. But you bite your tongue and decide to let the question go unsaid.

“I see.”

Caleb’s gaze persists. It’s gentle, not demanding of anything, or even expectant. But for some reason, it makes you want to turn away so you don’t have to be subject to it.

“I did miss home y’know, pipsqueak.” You wonder if that’s what Caleb was watching for, trying to see if you were silently doubtful. You bite your lip and decide to just let the words spill out before your pride makes you swallow them whole.

“I missed you.”

Caleb’s eyelids widen almost imperceptibly, but you still catch it. He blinks, and they relax with this look that feels fond, but also seems to carry another aspect you can’t decipher with so little light.

The sound of crickets buzz in the distance. The extended silence makes your grip tighten on the arm rest.

“This necklace is nice, y’know. Whenever anyone asks, I get to bring you up. They probably get sick of it after a while,” Caleb murmurs, and he lifts the silver chain you placed around his neck, ruby glimmering in the light. Knowing he kept it, the way he so proudly handles the chain, makes you feel fuzzy.

“You tell other people about me?”

“So much they could probably write an essay. How you’d cling to me as a kid, when we’d hang out together, how, for a short while, we were all the other had.” Caleb squeezes the chain and lets it dangle against his tee, expression gentle, and part of you wishes you had a chain too. Something to remind you of Caleb, an excuse to think or talk about him. To rub between your fingers and recall a time you were both in a fit of laughter, young, happy and free.

“I relied on you a lot. More than you deserved, especially as a kid. …Sorry.”

“Seriously?” Caleb gapes, and a snort leaves his mouth. “Never thought I’d hear that. But you don’t have to—no. I don’t want you to apologize. It was nice. Part of me kinda misses it. I mean I get it, you can handle your own. It’s not like you need me looking after you anymore, but… I liked it. And nowadays, I can’t help wanting to at least support you,” Caleb shrugs, like those words don’t penetrate your core and settle deep in your chest, breath hitching. A million responses swim through your mind, none of them breaking the surface.

“Oh, uh…” It’s… embarrassing, hearing that blatantly said aloud.

“And, to be perfectly clear, I missed you too,” he adds. Your throat bobs. You enjoy hearing those words from his mouth, the way he says them so easily with a hint of affection. While it’s enough to make your body feel flush with embarrassment, it’s nice he’s never too stubborn to show his care. If anything, you’re far more stubborn in admitting your feelings. Perhaps that’s why you told yourself to just say it, not let the pride win and be honest every once in a while.

“It… sucks. I only get to see you for a few days at most and poof, you’re gone,” you gesture along with your words, hastily getting them out while you still have the weak confidence to. “Your cooking, waking up to you everyday, when you get me little snacks just because…” Your legs swing back and fourth, antsy, but your heart feels lighter when you can freely speak your mind, say all the things you were too prideful to say as a kid.

Caleb listens silently with solicitous eyes. His mouth parts, closes again, and he seems to swallow. You time the kick of your legs, so you don’t start kicking them faster while you’re left on the waiting end, mute until Caleb responds.

“It’s pretty dull not having your own personal 5-star chef, huh?” He finally says, with a grin, and you softly deflate. Your legs slow to a stop, and your heart feels heavy again.

“Yeah… I… I guess—“

“No,” Caleb hisses under his breath. You think it’s to himself. But he leans forward on his duvet and reaches up, brushing his fingers over the jut of your eyebrows so light you can barely feel the touch. Your eyes shut reflectively, and his hand eases to your cheek, knuckles gently sliding down. You peek an eye at the sudden touch, trying to not make your mild startle too known. He’s the type to stroke your head or push you away in jest. This brand of touch is new. Foreign.

Your lips tremble and Caleb’s eyes flicker down to them.

“I’d do all those things every day, if I could. Listen to you get ridiculously excited about those rare kitty cards, see you when I get home from work; when you get home from work…” His knuckles trail down to your chin, dangerously close to your lips.

You inhale slowly, and try not to show your panic when your heart begins to beat an erratic rhythm. This is the first time Caleb’s ever made your heart race — like this anyway, and a flurry of thoughts and emotions you never dared consider all invade you at once. If you were standing, you’d stumble on the spot.

“I miss seeing your mug, what can I say?” Caleb laughs, gives your face two playful pats, and retracts his fingers. You withhold the urge to chase them, press his palm against your cheek. Instead, you bite the inside of your cheek to curb the desire.

They’re nothing but strange thoughts in the heat of the moment, a little too drawn in by the touch of his fingers after not seeing him for so long. Equating nostalgia with attraction is not a good look, and you know to smother it in its wisps before it engulfs into a bed of flames.

“When — when we were kids it was kind of like this,” you begin, trying to even out the tremor in your voice. “We weren’t telling each other we missed one another, of course. But I’d sit in this chair. And you’d wipe my tears when I was sad. No matter how long it took.” You say, and you know you’re just making conversation to push your mind away from uncouth thoughts. With luck, Caleb won’t pick up on a thing.

“Yeah, you were a bit of a crybaby. Always barging in, no matter the time, just to have someone to cry to. It was pretty cute, though.” Caleb stands slowly, already no more than a foot in front of you, and he bends down to rest one hand on the armrest while the other palm holds your cheek, thumb swiping under your eye. “Just like this.”

This… feels dangerous. The part of you that automatically reacts to his teasing wants to glare and push his hand away, scoffing and spouting some retort. That’s how you should respond, how he expects you to.

This new, faint part of you wants to close your eyes and lean your cheek into his palm, turn your head so your lips rest on his fingertips. You do neither, and just peer up at him through your lashes, too scared to tilt your head up and have your face reveal every dirty thought racing through your brain.

“It was cute when you’d come to me, too. You’d sit next to me, trying to act all strong. Then I’d pat your shoulder and you’d go ‘I’m not crying’ while you kept wiping your eyes. Couldn’t fool a baby. But it made me happy. That you came to me,” You speak, and reach up to Caleb’s shoulder, giving it a few soft pats. “Just like this.”

Caleb’s fingers dig into the armrest though his face remains moderately amused. He tilts his head, murmurs a “Guess we were both the type to tear up,” with a cryptic smile, and moves to pull his hand away.

Subconsciously, against any rational thought, you chase after him and hold tight to his shoulder, other hand keeping Caleb’s palm firmly in place.

He blinks once, twice. The moment is palpable. You know you can’t explain yourself out of this, but your gut instinct just doesn’t care. It craves to stay in Caleb’s proximity, to keep him by you. Like he’d melt away if you let go, and the moment would be lost to eternity.

“Pipsqueak?” He murmurs, rubbing a curious thumb across your cheek and it’s all you can really take. You feel the way Caleb tenses up when you bury your nose in his palm, when you shakily inhale and just settle into its warmth. You think you’re trembling a little, and fear eats at your racing heart. Fear of shattering the relationship you have — pushing beyond the bounds of your preconceived ‘normal’. This isn’t what you and Caleb are. Caleb calls you an infuriatingly affectionate nickname when he checks up on you. You and Caleb bicker about mindless things and easily make up in a few hours because Caleb always gives in. You and Caleb were friends since you were children, kids who played together, teens who begrudgingly got along, and adults who were still close and made efforts to visit home on your shared time off.

It wasn’t whatever the hell this was. And the guilt that rises in your throat is immense, taking Caleb’s actions to make them something they’re not — twisting his kind gestures into something awful. You force yourself to recede from his palm, mouth open to utter a soft apology.

Just as that soft ‘sorry’ passes your lips, Caleb coaxes your head up, peers long and hard into your eyes, like he’s searching the depths to find whatever it is he seeks, needs.

You think he finds it, because his breath hitches, the hand on your face seems to quiver, and his face leans so close to yours. Not touching, no, his hot breaths ghost over your lips, his nose tickling your cheek. You swallow thickly, and the warmth from his proximity spreads like wildfire.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he whispers, urgent. Almost desperate, like it takes every ounce of self-restraint to remain as he is. So near but never bridging the small gap.

“I…” You start, knowing this is the tipping point. He’s still kind enough to give you an out, to let you reject any notion of whatever this is and pretend none of it ever happened. Makes it seem like he doesn’t want it to happen. Caleb’s always been kind like that. And maybe, in the long run, it would be the better option. To not risk destroying the relationship you’ve built and nurtured for well over a decade.

But, meeting his pleading eyes with your own, you know the only words that can leave your mouth. It’s the sole thought that repeated over and over in tandem with each shaky sigh that parted from his pink lips.

Slowly opening your mouth, you take the plunge. “I do.”

You don’t know whether Caleb’s face flashes with relief or pain — maybe both — and his lips press so deep into yours, slow and heated. It elicits a quiet, gasping noise from your throat that Caleb swallows. You have to wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself because his kisses are starved, like he’s been craving this moment forever and you wonder if that’s really the case. His hand on the armrest moves down to grasp your thigh and a pleased noise rumbles in the back of your throat, his thumb stroking the inside of it so tenderly you could tremble. The sense of relief, of immediate euphoria of having this man on your lips almost makes you wanna cry as he kisses you senseless, licks his tongue into your mouth and coaxes every soft noise he can with each repeated press of his lips. When your fingers sneak up to his neck, quiet sounds hum in his throat and they envelop your mind, drugging you with the sound and feel of him. You could do this for hours, kiss Caleb until the only thing your mouth knows is the taste of him.

“I can’t believe —“ Caleb gasps between breathless kisses, speaking against your lips and sliding his hand down to rest on the junction of your head and neck. You tremble and he pecks the corner of your mouth in response, as though to soothe you. “You’re actually—“ He kisses at your cheek, then your nose affectionately. You feel the heat rise in your neck and avert your gaze out of pure embarrassment. “Letting me…” He laughs against your cheek, face alight and you hope the pain you perceived earlier is a little lessened now.

“I didn’t know you wanted to…” You murmur, and stretch your neck up again to capture his lips. Somehow, each kiss only seems to improve upon the last, and when his fingers slide against your neck, a quiet moan vibrates in your throat. Caleb pulls back with low lids and ragged breaths, lips pinker than you’ve ever seen and covered with a sheen of saliva. Kiss swollen’s never a look you imagined on him, but you quite like it.

“Guess I’m good at keeping secrets then,” Caleb says in a huff of soft laughter, and he’s gently tugging, guiding your body up and off the chair to sit beside him on the duvet. “Or,” he leans down and pets the front of your throat, lips steady against your fluttering pulse. “You’re just stupidly oblivious.”

“There’s no way I would’ve…” you begin to murmur as your fingers clench on his nightclothes. Your body reacts to the sensation of his lips kissing every bit of skin he can reach on your neck, licking but mindful enough to not leave marks and the consideration alone is hot enough to make you shudder.

Could you have? Your mind is hazy and each time Caleb mouths at your throat you lose it a little more, but you vaguely replay memories in your mind. Caleb’s mindfulness, his perception, his endless kindness — but he’s like that with everyone, so how could you have known you were special beyond your friendship and shared past? Granted you probably got a little extra pampering from him — but you shared a home. Of course you’d get more if you saw him more.

“Good. I was never gonna tell you, y’know,” he breathes. His large hands gently ease you backwards and you comply, letting him press you against the mattress. It smells like a mix of him — that same oak body wash he’s used since he was a teen (thankfully you bullied him out of that terrible smelling cologne phase), and fresh detergent from the laundry he took care of earlier. You resist the urge to turn your head and bury it into the covers, inhale deep, for you’re sure it’d come off as a little strange.

“Never?”

“Never.” He rests his forearms next to your head, face mere inches away. He seems to like watching you, those dimly lit eyes of his boring into you. “I mean, I thought about it sometimes. But we’ve known each other what, sixteen years now? We played together since we were preschoolers,” he sighs, thumb brushing over your cheek. His face is so raw and open, flushed and longing. Like he can finally spill every dirty little secret he’s kept hidden forever. His thumb moves to swipe across your lip and you kiss it — innocently enough. His breath stutters.

Then you open your mouth, gently suck on the digit, and he stops breathing altogether.

“Mm…” You hum in agreement, though with the way Caleb’s eyes darken, you figure it more resembles a moan.

“Damn,” he curses, and experimentally swipes across your tongue. You shamelessly take his thumb in deeper, revel in the way his lips tremble and he bites them, as though to curb some thought or action that sprung in his mind in response.

“You’re friends with someone that long, you figure there’s no chance. Figured you saw me as a brother or something. I mean, I kinda did it to myself,” he speaks, but looks absolutely enthralled by your mouth around his thumb. The way you swirl your tongue around him, encouraging him to just let go. You think his words are half spoken on instinct with how dazed and red-faced he looks.

“Fuck , if I just knew…” Caleb hisses, and he leans forward for balance, forehead pressed against yours (he’s so warm) while his hand slips under the hem of your shirt, resting just below your navel. The proximity to your waistband makes you subconsciously squirm a little, and his hand presses firmer, stilling your hips. “I could’ve done this so much sooner.”

You try to murmur a response past his thumb but the welcome intrusion makes your words incoherent. He gently retracts it from your lips to press against them, saliva coating his thumb, your lips, and wetting your chin.

“What’s that, pipsqueak?” He murmurs. You feel his hand creep up to trace your abdomen, catch at your side and massage there mindlessly.

“For someone who wants to do this so bad…” you sigh, and look up at him, unamused, trying not to let your mild fluster show. It seems even pinned under him, you can’t help but want to be a bit of a brat in his presence. “You’re sure taking your sweet time.”

Caleb’s brow twitches and he completely stills, staring at you with those gorgeous sunset eyes of his up close. You watch his throat bob as he swallows, and his fingers on your torso squeeze, not painful, just a firm hold.

“What the hell am I gonna do with you?” he finally exhales, exasperation plain on his face. He affectionately rubs his forehead against yours, the gesture so sweet it makes your heart swell. “Don’t forget, you’re the one that spurred me on.”

And like a man on a mission, the sweet moment is gone, replaced by greedy lips and needy hands. His mouth is back on yours and you gift him an appeased hum, instantly lost in the warmth of lips and the way he kisses you like he’ll never kiss again. So heated, so, so perfect, and you reach your fingers to tighten in his hair, lift your hips to wrap your legs around his torso. You both sink into the duvet with the strength of his kiss, his hands shamelessly trailing up and down your torso, mapping it out, squeezing when he hears quiet noises and whines emerge from your throat.

You think Caleb enjoys the sounds you make most, because he’ll do anything and everything to draw them out of you, hands frisky and shameless. They’re calloused and rough in the best way and you squeeze his hair in approval, press fleeting kisses to the corner of his lips when you part to breathe. He laughs, happy, and you laugh in turn.

“It’s a little hot, don’t you think?” He murmurs, and uses that as his excuse to push the hem of your shirt past your chest, encourages you to slip your shirt off and sit with your bare torso.

The way he stares at your body, your chest, like there’s nothing else in the word makes your body singe. You reach a hand up to cover his wandering eyes, scoffing. “Don’t just stare, it’s embarrassing.”

“All that talk and you’re embarrassed when I look at you?” He gives your hand a few taps before prying it away, taking in the view just as shamelessly as he did before, if not more so. You’d smack his face with a pillow if he didn’t have your hand held so tightly. “Telling me not to look’s like telling a dehydrated man not to drink. It’s plain cruel,” he laughs, and pulls your hand to his lips to give your fingers a fleeting kiss. Your eyelids flutter alongside your heart, and he grins.

Satisfied with the view, he slides down on the covers (you have to loosen your legs to accommodate), and stares up at you with a playful, shit-eating grin, his chin rested perfectly above your chest. “You don’t mind, right?”

“Don’t ask, do,” you huff, turning your head away in mock annoyance. Caleb’s more than happy to oblige and hums his approval while his hands move to trace the contours of your chest, moves down to press a light kiss to one side, and is quick to focus his mouth where it’s sensitive, have the bud harden under his tongue and send shocks of pleasure coursing through your body.

It even surprises you, how much you feel your face flame not just from pleasure, but pure embarrassment. This is Caleb , of all people. Not just some guy you started crushing on. Being this vulnerable and having his lips on your chest isn’t something you imagined even yesterday. If he saw you like this yesterday, you’d definitely die from shame. There’s not a glimmer of regret, but there’s heaps of embarrassment to spare and you bury your face into the pillow under you, tensing the more he plays. You knew nipples could feel good, but wow, they can feel good and his mouth on them sends shocks straight down your abdomen, makes heat settle low between your legs.

Finally, he pulls away, though his thumbs still graze over them, and he moves up to press a kiss to your jaw. “Don’t get all shy now. C’mon, show me that cute face of yours,” he hums, and you want to bury it even further being called cute (seriously, what the hell? You don’t know if it’s more embarrassing or insulting). But if only to show some semblance of control and confidence, you pull your head away and force yourself to meet Caleb’s adoring eyes, giving him a halfhearted glare with lips curled into a small pout.

“Looking at me like that only makes me wanna tease you more,” he murmurs, and moves to kiss your cheek (he’s so affectionate. It’s so much you almost don’t know how to handle it). And his hands slide down from your chest, settle at your waist and massage right above the band of your sweatpants. So close but not enough, the more his thumbs tease the more the heat becomes unbearable.

“Maybe you should use that mouth of yours for something other than talking,” you grumble, palms pushing Caleb’s head away. You huff with a side-turned head and peer at him from the corner of your eye, wiggling your hips. You couldn’t be more obvious.

“Demanding today, aren’t we?” He rubs his hands forward and back on your hips, trailing a slew of kisses down from the center of your chest to your abdomen, leaving flames in its wake. “Like what? I could make out with you until the sun rises, easy.”

The way Caleb looks at you, eyes flashing, you know what he wants. Those words to fall so reluctant from your tongue, to watch you drop your pride and ask. But Caleb’s had his way well enough, so instead of giving him the satisfaction of your words, you slide down your sweats and underwear, exhaling at the lack of restriction, the free air against your throbbing arousal. Caleb’s eyes go wide and you’re dragging his face between your thighs before he can retort, trying not to tremble from the absolute need that courses through your body. The thought of Caleb’s mouth on you, his tongue against you until your mind is numb.

“This.” You breathe, and Caleb can only let out a breathy chuckle.

“Whatever you say, your majesty,” he teases, smug but lets you guide his head, him dragging his hands down with it and across the planes of your thighs. They slide and down, palming close to your hips and earning him a small jolt, a bitten down noise.

Your fingers dig into his short hairs, dragging him down and rolling your hips to meet him halfway, urgent, needing. Caleb complies, gently mouthing at your inner thighs, biting at them (that gets a startled sound out of you that you instantly smother in fear of making too much noise.) And kisses and licks his way further up until he’s exactly where he needs to be, breaths hot and lips so close they could brush over you.

“To think you’re like this already…” he murmurs, cheeks flushed, and he dives his head down to slowly lick you into his mouth, your legs tensing and fingers shivering. His hands pet your thighs soothingly (it only makes you tremble more) and he sucks, holds your thighs so nice while they shake in his touch. He’s horribly slow, taking his sweet time to mouth against you, kiss against your aching heat and so gently take it into his mouth, painstakingly swirls his tongue. It’s not enough and you roll your hips into his mouth, mumbling curses.

“Dammit Caleb…” you groan, urging for more, grabbing and releasing at his hair, and his eyes flicker up to you, pupils blown and face a pretty red.

“Mm…” He hums, you shudder, and try not to burn at the sight of Caleb so pleased between your legs. Hands anchored to your thighs, mouth busy with a hardworking tongue as he eagerly lavishes you with attention. It’s good this time, not slow torture, and Caleb easily lets you rock your hips into his mouth, whine under the flat of his tongue and the sight of him between your legs. He pushes, holds you when you gasp and jerk into his touch and murmurs soothing hums while his mouth is busy on the taste of you. Your hips develop a rhythm of their own, chasing Caleb’s mouth over and over and when he briefly pulls back, he’s quick to stroke his fingers where his lips were, watch you sigh and and clutch at the parts of him you can reach.

“I wanna—“ he breathes, leans down to kiss the swell of your heat, laughs when you jump because of how swollen, how sensitive you are to his every move. You drag his face back down, his lips around you, not letting him finish the words he was trying to say. You just — his mouth — his warmth, you need, and you buck your hips into his touch, bursts of pleasure coming through you in waves the more his mouth moves in rhythm, the perfect pace he sets and the unfair way his tongue seems to do just the right thing to make you whine against bitten lips.

“Caleb,” you whisper, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. Caleb’s tactic changes, he’s using one hand to keep a steady grip on your thigh while the other reaches up stroke at your sensitive hip, then sneaks up to your nipple to tease it under his thumb and forefinger. His mouth remains occupied, tongue and lips unrelenting, and the dual pleasure is so much it almost feels like too much. But he moves, hot, mouth in tandem with your restless hips, confident and warm and the almost unbearable heat between your legs grows and grows, until you’re biting back a strangled noise and digging your fingers into Caleb’s scalp. You hold his head in place while you ride out the throes of pleasure, Caleb’s mouth easing you through it, still pressing and stroking with the heat of his tongue when the orgasm ebbs away. You have to squirm and push Caleb’s head away, panting and soaked in a sheen of sweat.

Caleb’s lips, nose, chin, are coated in you and he shamelessly licks what he can away, watches as you breathe, catch your breath amidst the aftershocks of your pleasure. Your entire body feels flushed with heat, and the only sound you’re capable of making are quiet gasps for a moment or two.

“Fuck,” Caleb breathes, presses a hand over his mouth and he’s scrambling off the bed, rushing to rifle through his drawers. He pulls out a bottle of lube and jerks his head to where you’re still settled on the bed, steadying your pulse. You’ve eased yourself to sit up on your elbows, so you can watch in your curiosity, see what’s got him so worked up. Seeing him still fully clothed while your pants lay sweat-ridden and bunched at your ankles, shirt tossed in some corner makes your face fill with heat.

“Can I—would you—“ he returns to the bed, crawls between your open thighs and presses his forehead to yours. The heat of his breaths make you dizzy, and you can feel the flicker of a flame despite just bursting with heat. “Fuck, I just…” he murmurs, moving his head down to rest against your shoulder, lips pressing against the jut of the bone. And the way his nose presses against you, he nuzzles against you and so dearingly asks makes the answer come far too easy. You inhale, stroke his cheek, and nod.

“Mhm,” you agree, moving your head to press a sweet kiss to Caleb’s temple. He groans, wastes no time coating his fingers and slipping them against you, stroking in a tease, then pressing in one.

It’s cold, you tense and Caleb mouths at your collarbone, murmuring “I got you,” while his fingers sits, letting you adjust and you relax to the chill, shudder to the way the digit settles in you, doesn’t feel like enough, and he moves.

Maybe — you think — you didn’t properly think this through. Because while you’ve a short respite from coming, now you have a finger inside you, a hand exploring every inch of your body it can reach, and lips playing with the soft patch between your neck and shoulder that has you sighing and subconsciously quivering. Somehow it’s all too much and not enough all too soon after — and you actively dig your teeth into your lip to keep quiet, not risk sounds traveling through the walls.

“So…” Caleb inhales, his lips travel down to kiss at your chest, lick at your nipples once more and they stand to attention at his efforts. “So damn warm…” You wonder if he means the heat from your body or the way you feel around his finger. His lips tease while his finger thrusts at a steady rhythm and when it becomes comfortable (and lacking). You start to grind into his touch, craving more, shuddering when a soft noise leaves his throat.

You exhale, peer at the pink cheeks of your childhood friend — hell, your best friend. You feel your heart melt, then your body melt in tandem when his finger slips out so he can ease two of them in, slowly stretching you. They move deep, curling inside you and with the just perfect brush of his fingertips, you let out a pitched gasp and pull a hand up to cover your mouth. Caleb doesn’t say a thing, instead makes sure to move against that bundle of sensitive nerves over and over, watches you tense and squirm the more he focuses his attention.

“You’re pretty good at keeping quiet,” Caleb praises, and moves his face up to draw you into a long kiss, mouth in sync with the way he fucks you with his fingers, steady and perfectly bent to leave you panting. You whine against him, chasing his fingers with your hips. He sucks on your bottom lip, pulling away with a dirty pop, lips glistening. “Can’t wait for the day you don’t have to hold back.”

“Hah—shit…” You curse, wanting to come up with a coherent response but your words catch in your throat, interrupted by gasps, and your mind can’t even conjure what to say to something like that, but you feel your body throb, your hips jump at his praise. Caleb hums, presses a kiss to your cheek, and slides down.

He does that thing where he looks up at you from between your legs, cheek rested on your thighs damp with sweat. His lips curl into that gorgeous, sinful grin that’s stupidly hot and infuriating all at once and you squeeze his hair in half-assed annoyance. He kisses one thigh, turns and sucks a gentle bruise into the other - fuck, why does that feel so damn good. And he busies his mouth with the taste of you, fingers working a slowly building rhythm that has your palm firm over your mouth and the other hand steady in his hair while you try — and fail, to not fall into a haze of pleasure. You almost want to curse, being so weak under his fingers and mouth. Flip the scene and give him a taste of his own medicine. But his tongue knows just what to do and he knows just the way to move his head to have you unable to do anything but let out choked gasps and rut into his eager mouth.

Though you take his fingers easily now, feel prepared enough to handle all he has to offer, he doesn’t stop. The sound of his fingers sliding in and out of you and his pretty, obscene mouth on you fill the otherwise silent room, save for your gasps and sighs. You curl against him and huff, biting your lip and using both palms to still his head.

“If you keep going, I’ll—“ you warn, because his fingers aren’t enough but his mouth is too much, and if you’re left a quivering mess you won’t be able to handle Caleb fucking you on top of it. Caleb hums, his glimmering eyes flicker up to you, and you think they crinkle in amusement. You’ve learned not to trust that face of his.

And of course, the dick , he keeps going. Holds you down with one hand so he can push and spread his fingers deep, taste you on his tongue as he sucks. It’s enough to have you arching your back, whimpering quiet noises into the pillow you bury your face into. Your hips squirm of your own according, the heat pooling in your gut and threatening to burst and you try to push his head away, gasp weak complaints. Too much if he doesn’t stop you’ll — But he’s relentless and overwhelming. Fingers curling, mouth moving, his hand gripping your waist. And your body accepts it all until that feeling crescendos again, you turning into a shaking mess as you whisper quiet curses into the pillow, try to escape his mouth but he licks and pumps his fingers into you all throughout it to prologue how your back arches, the high washes over you over and over. When you slowly relax, he pulls away with a messy mouth, leaving you with breaths labored and somehow still sane enough to sport a glare.

“I told you—“

“Sorry,” he says, and kisses at your navel while he watches you with enthralled eyes, like you’re a piece of stunning art. But his eyes aren’t apologetic in the least, and you’d think it right to demand a proper one if your heart wasn’t thundering so quick you think it’ll leap out your chest. He sighs, scoots up to press a kiss against your chin, and whispers, so quiet. “Can I…?”

You huff, try to steady your breathing, and zone into the dull ache between your legs and the empty feeling from losing his fingers. Of course you want it, want him, it’s a matter of already having been pleasured to hell and back by this man twice. You’re spent, even if the idea of Caleb nude and flushed against you is hot as hell.

“There’s a reason I tried to tell you…” you sigh, brush some slick hairs from his eyes and observe the dazed, greedy look in his eyes. He really just wants it all, doesn’t he? You always thought you were spoiled by Caleb, but maybe, there are times when you spoil him.

“Mmm… it’s just nice, seeing you lose your composure,” he nuzzles into your neck, breath warm and your entire body reacts to something so small, so soft. “But we’ve got all the time in the world. Next time.”

And he exhales so warm, pulls his head away and you immediately grab both cheeks, drag Caleb’s lips to yours and kiss him so sweetly it feels something akin to love. Your hips tingle, and the idea makes you absolutely dizzy, but you mouth it against his lips anyway.

“Finish what you started.”

Caleb doesn’t immediately answer or react, he simply observes you, watches the way your arms cling to him. For good measure, you wrap your legs around him and roll, right into the hard erection confined in his pants. He gasps, gripping the duvet beside your head.

“If… If it’s too much. Just pinch me. Or tap me a few times. Do whatever, really, shit,” Caleb hisses, and he’s finally stripping off that stupid bed shirt of his and tossing it unceremoniously across his room, breaths slow and deep as though to calm himself.

It’s not your first time seeing Caleb shirtless, but it is the first time you’re able to admire the full view in dim glory. Amidst the streaks of moonlight through the window, the red of his necklace sparkles. He wears it, even in his sleep, and you try not to think too much on how he must’ve cherished it. Treated it like a prized possession, because it makes a surge of happiness flood through you with a mix of guilt for never treating Caleb’s gifts or gestures just as precious.

“Oh, so when I stare, it’s a problem. But when you stare, it’s fine, huh?” Caleb chuckles, and his pants are kicked off with no shame. He’s so eager he doesn’t even try to make it sexy, he just looks like he’s dying to feel every inch of you, finally be able to feel the whole of you tight around him. It’s so silly and so Caleb you just have to laugh, and it’s nice when he laughs in turn, makes you feel serene.

“Think of it like payback,” You decide to say. Payback for making you come from his mouth and fingers when he knew you wanted to feel him inside of you. Caleb makes an approving noise, leans back over you, and the sight of his flushed, toned body with his necklace dangling down is way sexier than it has any right to be. He slides a hand up your thigh, gives it an encouraging squeeze when you tremble, and his lips find yours in a fleeting kiss.

“Guess I gotta do all I can to make up for it,” he whispers in a ghost of a kiss, and settles between your legs, erection strained in his underwear and words way too calm for someone who looks like he can’t stand waiting a minute longer. He shoves them down well enough with one hand and he springs free, eager and leaking at the pink tip. You think it’s almost pretty, the way it stands, twitches when you thumb his cheeks.

He captures your lips the same moment he lifts your thighs, lines himself where he had his fingers buried deep only a minute or two ago, and slowly, slowly pushes. Sighs into your mouth as he sinks into you, and you grab at his back, wrap your arms so tight around him as he just fills you, moves as you cling to him. You think the wait alone is torture when he finally settles deep, hips flush to yours and mouth swallowing any weak noises you utter. You’re still so sensitive and even just the feeling of his cock inside, barely moving, is enough to make you clutch at him.

“You feel so perfect,” he utters, shaking hands settled on the sides of your face, lips plush on your jaw. He buries his face in your neck, slowly, slowly moves out, and you can feel his entire body shaking on top of you as he pushes again, deep into you and fills you perfect. So hot inside of you, you can’t help but squeeze around him. He chokes against your skin, kisses at it while his hips steadily draw out—then you think he loses his composure a little. His hips sputter, and his pushes into you quicker, steady, and holy fuck is your body just quivering and you already feel a mess, heat between your legs near unbearable and Caleb’s cock stretching you open for him.

“Caleb…” You gasp, bite back the moans that want to continually spill from your throat while Caleb steadily pumps, in and out. It’s so tender, and even though your body is an absolute mess, you just need more and drag in Caleb with the strength of your legs wrapped around him, helplessly grind into his cock, and Caleb understands the message loud and clear. He shakes, kisses your shoulder, and pulls out to snap his hips against yours, murmurs small affirmations against your skin as he fucks you, heavy and deep and your body is a squirming mess, like it isn’t even your own. You’re whining and biting back every loud, broken noise that threatens to leave your mouth with the rock of his hips.

“Shit—Caleb, it’s—“ you gasp, be hums into your shoulder and looks at you with wild eyes while he pushes into you over and over. Your legs are a mess and you’re gasping, trying to focus on swallowing down the noises in your throat but Caleb’s driving you absolutely insane and when he positions himself just right, you’re letting out a sharp cry and your body arches into his touch.

“Don’t wake the whole neighborhood now.” He coos against your collarbone, and gently covers your mouth, palm flat so all you can do is groan against his hand, weak noises and sharp gasps muffled. Every inch of you feels sensitive, alight, and the hand not silencing you gently massages your chest while he fucks you deep into the mattress, the sounds of skin against skin filling the room. It’s filthy and you absolutely love it, even if your body is screaming it’s on fire, and all your nerves are alight from being so thoroughly handled.

“Mmn—!” You gasp, unable to even articulate how it feels to have Caleb rolling his hips into yours so damn hot while you can barely control the way your body reacts. You think he swells even more when inside you, thick and hot and nearly every thrust hitting you so you see stars. You gape, claw at his neck and anything you can cling to on him, while his movements gradually speed up and he pounds into you relentlessly, cries muffled by his palm.

“You have no idea how much I wanted this…” Caleb gasps, breaths heavy, lifting his palm and resting it sweetly on your face instead. He looks at you so damn adoring while he’s fucking you senseless, watching you gasp and start to squirm under him when the sensation builds upon too much. “Wanted you. Like this.”

“Gh… Y-Yeah…?” You somehow manage to choke out while your body has a mind of its own, squirming and shaking and Caleb’s hands hold you right where he needs you as he slides in and out of you again, pulls out so only the tip is in and snaps his hips against yours in a fluid motion. You wonder if it’s because your most recent orgasm was so close, left you so sensitive you feel like you’re already on the brink. You hang onto Caleb for purchase and try not to cry out as he pushes into you over and over and over.

“You’re way too hot. You feel way too—haah —good.” Caleb curses as he moves, hold your hips and reaches a hand down between the two of you to tease you with sweet fingers while he pumps into you. “You. Undone. Under me,” he murmurs, and your hips helplessly buck into his touch, fingers clutch him tight as he fucks you.

“Y-You…ah—Caleb,” you try to respond, but the way Caleb rocks his hips, and his hand wastes no time driving you mad, you feel that feeling build, build and build so quick, so perfect. You want to retort, say anything to flip his words on him, but you know you’re a gasping mess and can’t focus your mind enough to put up a decent argument. So you clutch at his slick skin, bury your fingers so deep it pales, and whine “I’m… I’ll… ‘M about to…”

Caleb hears you loud and clear, keeps the pace of him pumping into you and is always sure to angle the way your hips slot together perfectly, so each thrust hits you with a deep wave of pleasure and his fingers leave you weak.

“You always act so strong, so tough. It’s nice I can get you like this,” he speaks, and if your mind wasn’t in such fog you’d probably be a little annoyed, but all you can do is whimper at how his voice whispers low in your ear, and the way he circles his hips perfectly to make you gasp, clench, and make him groan in return.

That feeling approaches, the familiar feeling of being undone by Caleb and at the mercy of his mouth, fingers and thrusts. He murmurs sweet words against your lips, and it’s all you can handle when you’re biting your lip and your body is pulled taught like a string, shuddering and powerful as you feel a burst of pleasure like no other, so strong and prolonged you wonder if it’ll ever end, so much you actually see white. Caleb doesn’t relent on his thrusts, fucks you through it, and he doesn’t stop when you’re quivering either and suddenly it’s too much all at once. Your body is still in tremors and shakes as he grasps your hips firm, presses a soothing kiss to your temple as you start to squirm and let out weak noises.

It’s too much and too fast and you’re so sensitive and you can’t— “Caleb,” you choke out, body naturally moving to escape the sensation, but Caleb’s hands hold you steady.

“Want—“ he rasps, “want me to stop? All you gotta do is tap me,” he murmurs so sweet in your ear, and tears prick in your eyes as the pleasure, the sensitivity is so blinding you can’t keep them from your face. And you quietly cry and squirm but hold on tight, not tapping, not pinching. It’s torture but it feels terribly amazing in the best way, even if Caleb has to keep a firm hold so you don’t scramble from his grasp.

“Too much, I can’t, Caleb,” you sob, Caleb kisses the tears that fall down your cheeks so sweetly and proceeds to fuck you silly. Your heart is pounding, your whole body is a shaking over sensitive mess and the feeling is so intense your mind can barely formulate words. “I—please, fuck…” you babble, can’t string together full sentences and just whimper under him. Fuck if you’re never at someone’s mercy like this, you wonder if it’s better or worse that it’s Caleb.

“So damn cute,” he breathes out in broken fragments, breaths quickening as he thrusts deep, hard, accepts every whimper and plea that leaves your wet lips. “You can relax around me, trust me. Let me take care of you.”

“Ah…!” You wish you could respond, you really do, but the only thoughts you can formulate are pleads and Caleb, the endless pleasure bordering pain he pushes you through. He’s so sweet in your hair as his pace quickens and his breaths are shallow, ragged. His face is a damp mess and strings of hair cling to his forehead as he utters your name — your name, not ‘pipsqueak’, over and over. Whispers your name in your ears, mouths it on your temple, presses his lips against your neck as he sighs it. You melt and squeeze your teary eyes shut, clawing at Caleb and letting him pound you into oblivion. You feel fucking ruined and Caleb kisses your tears and pets your head all throughout it.

“Dammit, seriously, what am I gonna do with you…” He rasps, and you think your hazy mind can classify it as positive. His thrusts are quick and it’s not soon after that he’s suddenly groaning, hips going still as he holds deep inside you, trembling as he spills. Deep, warm. You quiver and finally find relief in his slowed thrusts, the way he holds himself with shaky breaths and bright red cheeks, sweat sliding down his temple. Slowly, he stills, panting, and when he’s nearly done shaking, he slowly pulls himself out. The feeling of both being empty and filled is filthy, but you haven’t the energy to burn on feeling embarrassed when you can barely form a sentence. You gasp, wipe at the tears that rolled down your face, and can’t keep the tiny quivers from racking through your body even after the high has passed.

“You okay, pipsqueak?” He whispers after, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. You nod, mute, and have to give yourself a bit to be able to respond in full. He seems to understand that much, and rolls to the side so he can gently hold you in his affection.

“That was…wow,” you murmur, and bury your head into his damp chest, the sent of oak and sweat. “Can’t move…” The thought of so much as standing seems impossible, your brain is in this weird, pleasant fog and you can barely focus.

“Did I go overboard?” His laugh is light and raw, lips settled on your forehead.

“It was a lot,” you answer, and your fingers trace over his bicep. Who knew fighter pilots had to be so toned? “It’s hard to think but…” you hum, and adjust your buzzing limbs so you’re a little more comfortable. “It was… good.”

“Good. Guess I’ll put that on the list of things you like,” you feel his lips curl against your forehead, probably grinning. You don’t even have the energy to glare.

“You have a list?”

“In my mind,” he says, and you decide to pull back from his chest a little, if only to see his expression.

Sweat-ridden but sparkling with an air of pleasant satisfaction. Eyes alight, cheeks warm. Since when was Caleb so damn beautiful?

“Next time…” You look up at him with heavy eyes. Feel almost drunk as your body sags and your speech comes out in quiet rasps, throat spent from all the cries you swallowed down. “It’s your turn,” you run your fingers across his lean chest, feel the way his muscles jump with laugher and his heart is starting to slow into a steady rhythm. He’s so irritatingly attractive.

You’re not used to feeling so utterly spent, helpless after. Your legs would collapse under you like a fawn learning to walk if you tried anything right now. You’d like to see Caleb come undone under your fingers, unable to keep himself from writhing while you tease him endlessly. In that way, you’re both similar, you suppose, and you can hardly blame Caleb for the way he gets off on you clawing at him.

“Can’t wait,” he says easily, almost makes you more mad at how easily he accepts your words. He strokes your cheek, wipes the remnants of tears, and holds you comfortably in his palm. “You look so good when you’re a mess.”

“Hush now,” you sigh, and turn your head to kiss his palm. He pads your lip so gently, traces shapes across them (you think one is a heart). It’s so silly but so him and he continually manages to make your heart fill.

“I’m scared I’ll wake up and this’ll all be a dream.” He pulls you to him, buries his nose in your hair and strokes your back like he hasn’t seen you in years and needs to confirm your existence. “It feels like a dream. You in my arms. Kissing me. Wanting me.” He draws back so he can tilt your head up and peer into your eyes. You think the sun is starting to rise, his eyes are as clear as ever yet clouded with contentment and apprehension. “You like me, don’t you?” His hands hold you so sweetly, his eyes are so raw. “Pretty sure I’ve loved you as long as I can remember.”

You blink, try to process his words in the fog of your mind and feel yourself run warm when you’re able to take his words piece by piece and understand them, digest them in full. The word ‘love’ tickles your ears, and you try not to let the tears flow again (who knew being so wrecked made you stupidly emotional) and nod quickly, covering the hand that holds your cheek.

“Of course I like you. I’ve trusted and cared about you as long as I can remember.” Your hand on his chest stills, presses so you can hear the drum of his heartbeat that’s now relatively fast. You can’t judge, when your heartbeats are so heavy you feel them in the back of your throat. “I’ll love you back, someday. The way you love me. I’ve loved you like my best friend, as a person, for the longest, though.”

“I’ve waited so long to hear that…” Caleb sighs, your eyes flicker to the chain around his neck, and you silently vow to yourself to sometimes let go of your stubborn streak, take care of Caleb the way he loves to take care of you. You hum and nuzzle into his chest, basking in how warm he feels, skin against skin, heating you, like a pleasant wood fire on a cozy winter night.

You sigh, can’t bite back a small smile, and let your eyelids flutter, your weak body sink into the mattress as Caleb’s slow breaths and caresses lull you, goad you to rest.

Caleb’s skin, heat, the love and affection you feel encased in each featherlight touch draws you in, comforts you enough to let your consciousness fade. Like a soothing lullaby.

It’s perfect, knowing you’ll wake up in his arms the next morning.

—

Sequel — Caleb Loves to Bully You in Bed

[bbydoll18xx]

Pet Names and Airplanes (Part 3)

Paige Bueckers x reader

It’s Paige’s turn to call the shots.

Themes: smut!! dom!Paige, friends to lovers

Word Count: 2.5k

Part 1

Part 2

A/N: IT FINALLY LET ME POST HALLELUJAH!! You sweetie pies asked for a part 3 and here it is! And to whoever was the original anon who sent me the idea for Pet Names and Airplanes, i love u

~

Seattle had crushed Indiana, although that was pretty much a given. What you hadn’t expected, though, was Paige’s attitude after the game. The whole time, her hand was placed possessively on your thigh, fingers only leaving the soft flesh to be thrown in the air in a joyous celebration of Seattle scoring. And you certainly delighted in the way Paige kept sneaking peeks at one of the hickeys she had left at the base of your throat, threatening to expose the sheer naughtiness that had gone down yesterday. And this morning. 

The relationship between the two of you had changed dramatically in the last 48 hours, leaving you with an undeniable giddiness that bubbled in your chest. And now here you were, talking to Nika on the sidelines of the basketball court, feeling the blonde’s eyes on you, the heat of them radiating off of you in a way that had you shivering. 

Your arm was wrapped around Nika’s waist in a friendly hold; you had missed the Croatian girl, but Paige’s body language suggested that if you didn’t back away, you’d be in deep shit. Her eyes narrowed as you scooched in closer, meeting her gaze with a smug look that said ‘Whatcha going to do about it?’ 

It was not long before she was pulled away by yet another throng of young, adoring fans. She posed for pictures and signed basketballs and shirts, a fond smile adorning your face as you watched, thinking that if anyone deserved all of this, it was Paige.

You are pulled out of your thoughts by Nika who was elbowing you in the side with a shit-eating grin plastered on her face.

“When are you gonna tell her that you love her?” She questions smugly, and your mouth falls open in shock.

You splutter, not even remotely able to form a coherent sentence for a second. She was able to read you like a damn book, and you felt momentarily embarrassed to think that you were that transparent. You had always worn your heart on your sleeve, but you longed to be one of those girls that were just effortlessly cool and almost mysterious. You hated how people could see what you were feeling just by looking at your face, and while you knew your emotional disposition made you who you were, sometimes it felt like it was your personal downfall.

The blaze of your cheeks add fuel to the fire, and Nika giggles as you hide your face in your hands. You sigh defeatedly. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“It’s Paige,” she soothes. “You guys have always had something more than just a friendship. It’ll work out.” She pulls you into another hug, just as Paige walks back over to the two of you. She clears her throat loudly, and you and Nika separate, meeting her eye with your cheeks still flushed from Nika’s observation. 

“Ready to head back to the hotel, princess?” Paige asks you, her blue eyes staring into yours, and she wraps an arm around your waist possessively, drawing you into her and away from her old teammate. 

You smirk at her blatant jealousy, mentally high-fiving yourself that at least she also lacked subtlety when it came to you.

“I don’t know, P,” you trail. “Maybe we should hang out with Nika some more.” You wet your lips as you look up at the Croatian girl, who is looking between you and Paige with a confused look on her face.

“I want you. All to myself,” she responds bluntly, sending a wave of butterflies soaring through your belly and straight down to your pussy.

Paige sends a glare in Nika’s direction, and a flash of realization dawns on the brunette, her face morphing into a look of pure revulsion.

“Hell no, you two better not be getting me in the middle of whatever this is” Nika scolded, her accent coming out, mixing with the disgust in her voice. She was smart, and she clearly saw your attempts to make Paige jealous.

“I’ll see you two tomorrow. Just go fuck each other like I know you want to,” she says crudely, holding back a laugh. “But thanks for coming. I love you both,” Nika beams, waving and walking towards the Seattle locker rooms. 

“Finally,” Paige mutters, interlocking your fingers with hers and pulling you towards the exit.

The uber back to the hotel was eventful, and if Paige’s possessive grip on your thigh during the game didn’t have you completely dripping, the open-mouth kisses she had been pressing to your neck and jaw certainly did.

It was difficult to hold back your moans in front of the uber driver who was already eying you and Paige suspiciously, and you let out a sigh of relief as he pulled in front of your hotel. Racing through the hall and opening up the door, you rush in, Paige hot on your tail. 

“Finally got you all to myself,” Paige murmured, looking down at you through lustful, hooded eyes. Her voice was deep and husky, dripping with want, and it reignited the swarm of butterflies in your belly. 

“About damn time,” you respond flirtily, before connecting your lips with hers with a moan. Her lips taste like the cherry slushy she had drank at the game, and the smoothness of them has you pressing up into her, desperate for more. 

Paige opens her mouth for you, intertwining her tongue with yours before suddenly pulling away. You chase her lips with a pout on your own, confused as to why she was stopping. You look up at her with fake indignance, and she gazes at you with a sadistic glint in her eyes. 

“Strip and get on the bed.” 

Her tone is firm, and the dominance oozing from her words makes every nerve in your body light up, temporarily putting you in a daze. You bite your bottom lip in a bruising tug, looking up at Paige with wide eyes. 

“Now.” 

The forcefulness of it sends jolts through your most intimate area, and you pull your top over your head, throwing it onto the floor haphazardly, your jeans following shortly after. You are left standing in a black bra and matching panties, and Paige has moved to sit in the chair, legs spread wide. 

“I want you completely naked, baby. Don’t get shy with me. Want to see those pretty little marks on your tits,” she drawls, and her voice alone has you nearly panting with lust. There was something so naughty about her watching you strip, and your body erupts in goosebumps in anticipation. 

Your bra comes off first. The cool air of the hotel room hits your nipples, perking them up in a way that makes Paige run her tongue across her bottom lip, soothing it from the incessant biting. Your panties soon follow, and your body flushes as you notice the stickiness of your inner thighs from your own slick. 

You climb onto the plush bed, ass sticking up in the air, wiggling provocatively in order to get a rise out of the watchful blonde. Settling against the mountain of pillows with your legs slightly spread, you stare back at Paige, trying desperately to avoid covering yourself up. Her gaze is burning into your skin like tiny pinpricks of lustful want, and you squirm at the lack of stimulation. 

You knew you looked needy, but Paige loved it, reveling in the mild humiliation of you being spread out for her viewing pleasure.

Not wanting to back down just quite yet, you hold her eye contact until she stands, sauntering over to the end of the bed. Her gaze lowers slowly, starting at the base of your throat where the myriad of hickies begin, trailing down to your tits and across your stomach, landing on your glistening center. 

A shiver runs down your spine, tightening your nipples even more, and you lick your lips in anticipation of what’s to come. 

“You gonna be a good girl for me, princess?” She asks, arms crossed and biceps bulging. 

A slight whine leaves your throat. “Yes, always good for you,” you promise.

However, Paige looks unconvinced, a wry smile plastered on her gorgeous features. “You weren’t being very good after the game. Hanging all over Nika like a little slut.”

Your heart pounds at her degrading words, and you try to come up with a decent excuse. “I-” 

She cuts you off with a wave of the hand and a scoff. “Save it. You think you’re a good girl? Prove it.”

Before you can even ask how to prove it, Paige is stripping and laying on the bed with spread legs. You crawl over to her, wanting to do everything possible to please her, but she stops you before you can attach your mouth to her sopping center.

“If you want to taste me, you gotta beg,” she claims smugly, and you flush at her words. Just yesterday, you had the upper hand, and now here you were, about to beg to eat her out. 

“P…” you trail off, but she was devilishly unrelenting. A wide smirk adorns her face as she spreads her legs a bit more, beckoning you closer towards her slick warmth. 

Realizing that you were in fact going to have to beg, you decide to give in, losing the battle between your pride and your sanity. 

“Please, Paigey…” you whimper, lips in a prominent pout. “I’ll do anything for you. Just let me have a taste.”

Paige pretends to think about it for a second, mockingly tapping her chin. “I suppose a little taste won’t hurt,” she relents, and before she can go back on her words, you dive in like a woman starved. 

A long moan is pulled from the depths of her throat as you lick a long stripe across her pussy, and you welcome the taste. She was obviously just as turned on as you. The sheer depravity of the situation hits you, and you reach down in between your legs to take care of the burning ache. Two small circles against your clit is all you manage to make before Paige is leaning down to swat your hand away with a dissatisfied tut. 

“Nuh uh. Don’t be touching your pretty, little pussy.” 

Your cheeks burn, but she quickly grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail and guides your head back down. And that’s all the encouragement you need. Soon enough she’s a moaning mess under you, coming undone with your name on her lips, and you’re licking your own, as if she was the most delicious meal you’ve ever had.

“Fuck, baby,” she moans. “Such a good girl for me.”

And before you can preen at her praises, she is on top of you. Hot, open mouth kisses are being pressed up and down your neck, alternating between sharp bites and soothing licks, adding to the purple marks. Paige trails her fingers up and down your sides before squeezing at your hips, melding the flesh experimentally. 

“Need more,” you pant out, and she hums against your skin, the vibrations shooting through you add to the overwhelmingness of everything. She is descending down your body now, your belly and hips peppered with kisses, all the way down to your inner thighs. She purposely ignores your aching pussy, and your hips fly up to try and meet the softness of her lips, desperate to feel some stimulation.

“Fuck, P, don’t make me beg again,” you whine, and Paige gives you another wide smirk from between your legs. 

She blows cool air across the heat of your dripping pussy, and mutters, “But it’s so sexy when you beg for me, baby.” 

“Paige, please,” you whimper, drawing out the syllables of her name, and finally she acquiesces. A long string of expletives leave your parted lips as she plunges two fingers into you and swirls her tongue around your swollen clit. Paige’s fingers were magic, pumping unabatedly into you and curling expertly against the ridges of your g-spot. 

You bring a hand up to pull roughly at your nipple, causing Paige to let out a low groan at the sight of you playing with your tits, and the vibration shoots straight through your core. If you hadn’t been so comfortable around Paige, you would almost feel embarrassed about how fast you were coming undone. 

This was some teenage boy shit. 

Your moans grow louder and louder as she adds a third finger, the stretch feeling like nothing from the amount of juices slicking the entrance of your pussy and sliding down your inner thighs. She continues to curve her fingers up to that sweet spot, causing you to see stars, and eats you out with unwavering persistence.

“G-gonna cum,” you moan, and before Paige can respond, you are gushing around her fingers with a high-pitched whine and her name on your lips. She slows down her movements, allowing you to ride out your high, before removing her fingers from you and licking them seductively. 

Fuck she was so hot. 

Paige watches your chest rise and fall while you try to catch your breath, strung out from how good she just fucked you. She thinks that you had never looked so beautiful, skin glowing from the lamp of the hotel and the sheen of your sweat adding to the radiance. You’re looking back at her in sheer adoration, wondering how you got so lucky to be in this predicament. 

“God, that just keeps getting better every time,” you giggle once you catch your breath, and Paige chuckles, nodding in agreement. She heads to the bathroom for a washcloth to clean you up, and once she does, she pulls you under the covers, and you think that life could not possibly get better. 

The two of you bask in the glow of orgasms and an overall fondness for one another, both silently musing over how much your relationship had changed in the last few days. As if Paige was reading your thoughts, you hear her whisper, “I don’t think I can go back to just being friends with you.” 

Your heart skips a beat. “I was thinkin’ the same thing,” you mumble, grateful that you could forego the awkward ‘what are we’ conversation. “I don’t think we were ever really just friends,” you add, you cheeks pink as you recall all the flirty moments that had occurred between you and the blonde.

“True,” Paige says, nuzzling her face into your neck. “Well, glad we figured that out.” She pulls you in for another kiss, this time sweet and innocent, without the fire that sex tends to follow. It was all you really needed. Paige was all you really needed. 

And when you sit down in your seat on the airplane the following day, you smile as the memories replay in your mind. Love was forged from nothing but a friendship reformed due to a silly little plane ride and a silly little pet name. 

~

woohoo! let me know what you think!! xoxo

[from-izzy]

sip and learn | the boyz kim sunwoo

“Got you a morning drink,” rattling the ice inside the cylinder and putting it where his mark prettily shows. “Probably should put it on there. They say it’s good to ice your bruises.”

pairing » the boyz kim sunwoo x fem!reader

trope/au » situationship au, non-idol au

genre »​ mildly suggestive (as compared to this), a bit of fluff...?, sunwoo likes to tease the reader who is in denial :D, flirty sunwoo and reader who is not to resistant to it, whipped kim sunwoo

word count, estimated reading time » 2407, ~9 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » suggestive!!, dom! sunwoo (and flustered reader), kissing and making out, they're in public but no one is around, dirty/suggestive talking (allusions to s*x), sunwoo kind of pulls the reader to his lap and carries you, sunwoo giving you a drink through kissing you, marking (sunwoo to reader), pet name (baby girl, baby boy), swearing, dirty minded sunwoo (oop), sunwoo is physically bigger and taller, rapid proofread a couple of times

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 the boyz masterlist

...hm-

Finally.

It turns out that universities do care about some of their students’ health after all. After a gruelling non-stop six weeks' worth of content, you're finally excited to not only catch up on some of the work you don't manage to touch but also that you won't have to watch lectures that seem like carbon copies of your textbook. In addition to that, you also get the choice to stay indoors all week which is a dream for all overworked students. 

Sitting in a slightly quiet area under the trees accompanied by your friend is one of the best ways to end the tiring six weeks. All is nice and cool as you let the wind brush against your skin, sighing at the temperature. Your friend follows you shortly after but disrupts the peace with a question.

The tip of her shoe hits yours, “So, how was the date?”

The implying tone from your relaxed best friend caused you to roll your eyes, “It wasn’t a date. It was just a hangout.”

“Oh yeah, I bet,” she agreed sarcastically. “How many times did you kiss him while you were at it?” 

The information was about to spill out from your mouth without a second thought. You were so close to embarrassing yourself with the fact that you were not only all over Kim Sunwoo’s lips yesterday, but all around that annoyingly handsome face of his and slightly down his neck. The heat rises to your cheek but you play it cool by shrugging your shoulders, pushing last night’s events to the back of your head. 

The way you responded only elicits an amused chuckle from your best friend. She knows you're avoiding the truth. “Stop pretending not to be in love with him,” she sighs. “Your denial is getting so damn embarrassing.” 

You relaxed your eyelids close once more, focusing on nature instead with your palms behind your back to lean. “It's not embarrassing because I'm not even in denial about that loser.”

You allow yourself to ramble some more, listing points to prove to her that you're not in love with the man. Usually, your friend would give you unconvincing hums which you're now used to. But the lack of response from her made you uneasy, as even though you had your eyes closed, the image of her raised eyebrows and the corner of her lips slightly raised is clear in your mind. 

That is the expression you're greeted with when you bring yourself back to reality. However, her eyes were nowhere near you, a mischievous smile growing bigger at the sight of a familiar person approaching you from behind. Your eye twitches, knowing exactly who it was. You dusted the sand and dirt remnants from your palm, ready to stand up to your feet when a force behind weights you back down.

You yelp slightly at the force, your now dirty palms again stopping you face planting to the Earth.

“Kim fucking Sunwoo!” You called out the man who secured his hold around your middle, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Get off me, you fucking stink.”

“Really?” The boy does the opposite, sitting down and spreading his legs beside your thighs, pulling you closer to his chest. “Last time I checked I smelled pretty good.”

He does. You're not going to admit that though. 

“Yeah, maybe after spending time at a rubbish bin.”

Your friend couldn't help but snicker at that. She wonders if you would give the poor boy a break sometime but seeing you both like this, obviously love sick for each other, she chose to make this her everyday entertainment. 

“Okay,” your friend collected her things. “I'll see you soon,” winking at you. “And you,” pointing at Sunwoo, “Please use protection.”

“Hey!”

“Will do!”

You whip your head back to Sunwoo’s sharp jawline, slapping his arm at the comment. When your friend was comfortably out of space, a finger traced along the front of your bra’s underband. The courageous touch in public made you yelp a little. Your reaction didn’t faze him at all because he predicted it all; you fold with even the smallest touch of him after all. 

“Feeling sensitive, baby girl?” The airyness of his husky voice sent chills down your spine. It also sent your stomach doing flips and your hands stopped slapping him for a change. 

“No,” you answer softly. Trying to push off is futile as you learnt from past events and so you let him win, taking a mental note to lecture him later.

“Baby girl…” the tip of his nose brushes along the underside of your jawline, shuddering at the light touch as he just ghosts over your slowly heating skin. 

Though tight, your lips displayed a smile. From the corner of your eye, you know he’s enjoying the situation, “In front of everyone?” Turns out you couldn’t keep your question for later. 

“There's literally no one here,” you felt his shoulders shrug. An arm stays secure around your waist, the other guiding your chin to face him. “You smell delicious,” the whisper hits the shell of your ear so gracefully that your gulp becomes audible. 

Sunwoo doesn't bother hiding the fact that he's focused on your lips, licking his own as he struggles to keep himself from tasting you. While his index and thumb keep you still, his other fingers brush against your skin intricately. The smooth motions contrast his darkening orbs. You’re in fear that you will fold for him in public now.

You are not going to be defeated by Kim Sunwoo. Not when he made you fold for him hard yesterday.

But it’s unfortunate for you that he knows exactly what you’re thinking of.

Sunwoo turns your head away from your alluring lips as he has other plans for now. His supple lips land on the side of your neck and he starts to suck on your skin. You expected just a peck, especially with the setting, but it became clear to you that nothing mattered to him. 

Whimpering moans slip out of your lips and Sunwoo smiles momentarily at the beginning of his work on the crook of your neck before going back in. At first, he’s disappointed that no one is staying for the show but then it gives him all the more reason to gape his lips and suck on your skin.

“Sunwoo-” You gasp out as your palm is back to giving him a physical reminder on his arm around your middle. “Fucking hell…”

He hums against your skin before pulling away, licking his lips at the subtle mark he left on you. Needless to say, you won’t be able to cover that up with your clothing. The lovesick boy doesn’t stop there when he directs your eyes back to lock his, sending you a message that makes your body slightly shudder. You weren’t sure what the gaze meant but all you knew was that it was the same look he gave after he would kiss you breathless; just like last night.

His hand retracts yet you don’t dare to break the eye contact. Knowing that he had an effect on you, Sunwoo maintained it, feeling slightly competitive about how you’re not backing down, not even looking at his plump lips. Sunwoo blindly reaches to the inside of his bag beside him, cluttering around until he finds the icy-cold cylinder that he bought for you earlier on.

“Got you a morning drink,” rattling the ice inside the cylinder and putting it where his mark prettily shows. “Probably should put it on there. They say it’s good to ice your bruises.”

The mention of a new mark made you lose the unspoken game as you used your front camera like a mirror. You didn’t even need to crane or tilt your neck too far to see what he was talking about and at the top corner of the screen, you could also see the start of a smirk growing on his face.

“Kim Sunwoo!” It’s so obvious, brighter than the sunlight above you. “I swear, Kim Sunwoo…” Glaring at the radiant man through your phone.

“Oh!” He exclaimed before snatching your phone. “You should take a picture. It’ll last longer.” Sunwoo kept his locking hold around your waist, positioning your phone closer to the sky. He takes a couple with varying angles and closeness, as well as how close his lips were to your heating skin. You jolt at the innocent kisses he left, leaving supple traces of his love and his breathy chuckle made you relax against his chest. “Now the two sides of your neck are matching.”

The image of last night flashes. The way Sunwoo cupped your cheeks, discarding his ice cream when he chose to lick the remnants of yours from your lips. The way he held the curve of your waist, pulling you closer to the point that you eventually sat on his strong, bulky thighs. The way he foreshadows the darker kiss mark on your neck when he moves his mouth across the side of your face, going off track with your jawline before rerouting to his main aim. The smacking of each other’s lips grew louder as the makeout session turned more intense. How his finger slowly lifted the skirt you were wearing, shuddering at the cold wind and the tiny circles that glided across your skin. Last night, as much as you didn’t want to admit it, was amazing.

You hope it was the same for him too.

The plastic seal clicks and is broken, pulling you back into reality. “Drink this,” he beams after chuckling at the way you look at him half-dazed. “I think you’ll like this.”

“Absolutely not,” swatting the drink away from you and keeping your ground. “You probably put shit in it.”

“Baby girl,” Sunwoo warns, voice lowering. Before you knew it, Sunwoo leans forward to slither an arm below the back of your knee, twirling you and resting your legs onto his thigh. This position made it easier for him to see you now that half your face was easily within his view. “It wasn’t a question,” he says as his palm holds a thigh, fingers spreading to increase his presence on your body. “You will like this.”

Another eyebrow raises and an inaudible shake of your head is what you give him.

His scoff resonates and hits you. You thought you won when he gulped the beverage himself and for a second, your muscles relaxed and a grin stretched across your lips. Your relief goes undetected by him because as soon as he feels the way your body reacts to him gulping his efforts for you, his palm that was once on your thigh slips down to one of your lower cheeks to remind you who has always had the upper hand between you both.

Your eyes widen at his gesture and to make things worse, Sunwoo leaves one last mouthful of the drink before he securely attaches his lips to yours. He angles his head down and tilts your neck up, something that he never does and the difference in routine alarms you. You end up understanding what he’s doing because with the betrayal of your lips parting when Sunwoo’s thumb nudges your chin down, with the help of gravity, he opens his mouth and empties the drink to you. He chases your lips at your surprise and holds you close to prevent you from pulling away. Some escapes from the corner of your lips that never fully touched his but he wipes it skillfully with the pad of his thumb, making a trail of the sweet tea, dripping from your jawline to where he kissed you earlier and letting your clothes suck up all of his glory. The way he cups your face, gently resting the apple of your cheek while his lips move slowly is all intimate to you, reaching out to his wrist for stability. 

When his mouth is empty, Sunwoo pulls away and your neck relaxes. The look of surprise on your face is entertaining and his bangs fall attractively in front of his cunning eyes. After moving back a bit, he sees how your cheeks are not fully empty. “Swallow,” he orders, brushing his thumb on the sensitive spot of your neck. “Like every single time you’ve done for me, baby girl.” No one could see the images that played in your head but the flashes only ran faster and more intense with his raised eyebrow.

Despite your self-talk not to let him win, you obeyed.

You gulp at the way he phrases his words for you, complimenting you on something that is human nature. The flavoured drink runs down your throat smoothly, the back of your hand wiping any remnants on your lower face. It wasn’t long until you realised that yet again, Kim Sunwoo was right: you did like the beverage; and maybe something else that he did along with that. Your tongue pokes out between your lips, savouring the taste and you had to stop yourself from going on your toes to chase his lips for some more.

“Good,” he praises you. “Was that so hard, hm?” 

“You’re insane, Kim Sunwoo.” 

“Ah yes,” Sunwoo nods proudly. “Or you could just say you liked what I did.”

As if you would. “Ok now, let me go, you dick.” 

The mention of the body part only made it worse for you and he didn’t bother masking his dirty idea to you. To the public, he looked like an abandoned puppy, kicked and forgotten on the street with his eyes wide open, begging for some love and care for anyone who passed by. His lower lips jutted out despite the scowl on your face.

“I’m just a boy…” His words trailing off towards the end. “Your baby boy…” The mention of the nickname you reserve only for him lands him a smack on his broad chest. 

“You’re literally twen-”

“Just a boy,” he repeated before wiggling his eyebrows. “You need to take care of me,” his palm on your lower body moves once more, reminding you that he has never let you go. “Next time you should’ve just sipped the drink, but now?” Effortlessly, Sunwoo held your flustered figure in his arms while you naturally clung your arms around his neck as he raised and began walking towards his car. “You get to learn.”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 the boyz masterlist

tags: @deoboyznet @k-labels @k-films @kflixnet @starlit-network @sanaxo-o @hursheys

[ruebossanova]

do sub!sabrina x dom!reader

denied - sabrina carpenter

sub!sabrina x dom!reader

word count: 886

warnings: smut, dirty talk, phone sex, pussy eating, strap usage,

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

you’re two states away on a work trip, the hotel room too cold and the bed too empty. sabrina’s been texting all day — clingy, whiny, needy — and you already know something’s up when she doesn’t pick up your facetime the first time you call.

the second time, she answers breathless, hair messy and eyes wide.

“hey,” she says, voice high and thin, cheeks flushed.

“what are you doing?” you ask slowly.

she glances away. “nothing.”

you lean back against the headboard. “sabrina.”

“what?”

you tilt your head. “put the camera down. show me.”

“show you what?” she tries to laugh, but it’s tight.

“you didn’t ask for permission.”

her lip trembles.

“did you touch yourself while i was gone?”

she sets the phone down with shaking hands, angling the camera just enough — and yeah. she’s fully spread out in bed, oversized t-shirt hitched up, hand between her thighs.

your jaw clenches.

“you know the rule,” you say, voice low. “you don’t cum unless i say.”

“i wasn’t gonna,” she whispers. “i just missed you.”

you hum. “missed me so much you thought you’d cheat the system?”

“i-i’m sorry,” she breathes. “please…”

you sigh, settling back against the pillows. “no. you don’t get to beg yet.”

she whines.

“but you do get to keep going,” you murmur. “since you already started. and now, you’re gonna do it for me.”

“spread your legs wider.”

she obeys instantly.

“slower,” you say, watching her fingers move. “i want you to drag them over your clit like i would. soft. barely there.”

she gasps. “please—”

“no. not yet.”

your voice drops. “describe it to me. tell me how wet you are.”

“so wet,” she whimpers. “it’s—i’ve been like this since you left.”

“poor baby,” you coo. “touching yourself just because you couldn’t wait.”

she whines again, hips bucking.

“rub faster.”

she obeys.

“but don’t cum.”

you guide her through it with your voice — firm, calm, cruel. sabrina's close three times, and each time you pull her back.

“take your hand away,” you say, and she lets out a sob.

“you said—”

“i changed my mind.”

she’s panting now, hair stuck to her forehead. “please… please let me cum.”

“no.”

“please—i’ll be good, i swear—”

“you’re already not good,” you say. “you broke the rule.”

“i’ll make it up to you.”

you pause.

“you want to make it up to me?”

she nods frantically.

“then don’t cum at all.”

“turn the camera off,” you say finally. “and go put an ice cube between your thighs.”

“w-what?”

“you heard me.”

she whimpers. “but i need to—”

“no.”

you smile. “i’ll be home tomorrow.”

“you’re not seriously gonna make me wait—”

“you wanted to play without permission,” you say calmly. “now you get to pay for it.”

she’s silent.

you hear her breath catch.

“say it,” you whisper.

“yes, ma'am,” she breathes.

“good girl. now go cool off.”

you arrive the next afternoon. the second sabrina opens the door, she throws herself into your arms. she’s been vibrating with desperation since last night.

you push her gently against the wall, one hand in her hair. “have you been good?”

she nods. “i didn’t touch myself. i swear.”

you hum, kissing her throat. “then you get your reward.”

she moans. “thank god—”

“but first,” you whisper, lips brushing her ear, “you get punished for yesterday.”

her knees almost buckle.

you tie her wrists to the headboard with your belt — slow, deliberate, controlling. she watches you from the bed, squirming in nothing but panties.

you climb over her slowly.

“still dripping?”

she nods.

you trail your fingers up her inner thigh. “so easy to wreck,” you murmur. “but not tonight.”

her breath catches. “please…”

“not until you’ve learned.”

you straddle her chest.

“you can use your mouth,” you say, tugging her hair back. “but you don’t get anything in return.”

“yes, ma'am,” she whispers.

you lower yourself onto her lips.

she moans, and so do you.

she eats you like she’s starving.

you don’t give her a break.

“don’t stop until i say,” you murmur, grinding against her mouth. “and keep your hands where they are.”

she whines, but obeys, tongue flicking just right, your fingers buried in her hair.

“good girl,” you breathe.

her thighs squirm against the sheets, desperate for friction.

you hold her tighter.

“you wanna cum, don’t you?”

she nods against your skin.

“not yet.”

after she came twice on your face, you pull back, wiping your lips gently with your thumb.

“you’ve earned it,” you whisper. “you can cum now.”

“oh my god,” she breathes, nearly sobbing.

you untie her wrists and roll her onto her stomach, your strap already in place.

you fuck her slow, deep, her moans turning into desperate gasps.

“thank you,” she cries. “thank you, thank you—”

you lean over her back, kissing her spine. “that’s for being mine.”

you clean her up slowly, kissing her between every wipe, whispering praises into her skin.

she clings to you, still shaking, eyes glassy and wet.

“you forgive me?” she whispers.

you nod, brushing her hair back.

“you’re my girl,” you murmur. “but next time you break a rule…”

she bites her lip.

“i’ll make you wait even longer.”

she groans.

“so be good for me.”

“always,” she whispers, curling into your chest.

and this time, you believe her.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

[readychilledwine]

Housewife

✨️Kink education with Elizabeth✨

The Housewife kink, also known as the 1950s Household, is a power play exchange dynamic that typically involves a dom and service sub. It is characterized by one partner being seen as a homemaker and one as the breadwinner. During the 1950s, the homemaker’s “job” was to take care of the household chores, dinner, children (if they had any), and following norms, their husband's needs all while being the picture perfect example of soft femininity and breedability.

Subs partaking in this form of play tend to wear dresses, heels, aprons, ect, while maintaining a clean home and cooking. Many people enjoy this dynamic due to its ability to come into real-life play instead of just hiding in the bedroom.

It is one form kink play that does not necessarily have to be sexual, but that's not why we're all here 👀

NSFW BELOW CUT

💕Peep Valentines Day Bingo Here 💕

Azriel x Reader

Summary - After a long day of interrogations, Azriel is more than pleased to come home to dinner made, a clean home, and a pretty wife.

Warnings - sub and dom dynamics, references to completely power exchange play, oral (mreceiving), slightly demeaning behavior towards females

A/N - I apologize for the delay. My little is going through a growth spurt and a little fussy today. Plus, it took FOREVER to find the perfect gif.

Azriel opened the door to his cabin. His shoulders were slumped forward, wings hanging slightly lower than normal.

It had been a rough day. He had been torturing the same prisoner for 3 days now. They refused to yield, they refused to break, and they refused to bend and give the shadowsinger what he wanted.

He knew that all would change the second he saw you, though. You were currently setting dinner on the table. Your hair was softly curled and pinned back, a soft touch of makeup graced your face highlighting his favorite features of yours.

You were wearing a blue sundress the flowed out at the bottom with heels and a blue bow in your hair.

“How's my wife today?” He took pleasure in knowing you would not address him until he addressed you. He took pleasure in knowing that within seconds of hearing his voice, you were trained to get him a glass of whiskey and greet him with a kiss.

“Azriel, you're home early,” you immediately went to the liquor counter, dress swaying as you did. You poured him a finger of whiskey, moving to add ice before walking to him and kissing his cheek. “How was your day?”

Azriel drank as you began removing his outer heavy layer for him, watching like a hawk as you hung his coat and placed his already kicked off boats into the precise place he had told you they go.

“Same prisoner as yesterday,” he watched you blink in confusion. “The bastard will not break and submit. Did you make dinner?”

You nodded enthusiastically, walking him to the table and getting him a plate. “I made your favorite.”

Azriel settled into the couch after dinner, watching you as you cleaned dishes. Every soft movement of your dress had his eyes locked on the hem. Each time you'd reach forward slightly, he was rewarded with a glimpse at the garter belt straps that connected to the satin tops of your thigh highs. It was a constant reminder to him that you were his present, waiting to be unwrapped so delicately as a reward for your continued obedient behavior.

“Angel,” he spoke softly. “Are all your chores done after this?”

It should have bothered you as a wingless Illyrian female to hand over submission so willingly out of hope you'd be rewarded with your mate's cock pounding into you over and over, but instead knowing you were about to be rewarded, that he was about to use you like a pretty cock sleeve, that had your thighs pressing together. “They are. Unless you wanted me to do something else.” A cool shadow began swirling your leg. Its touch was like soft kisses and left shivers in its wake.

Azriel leaned back, watching his shadow go on its mission, watching as you took a gasp, spine going straight before moaning his name. “Let me know when you finish.” He placed an arm on the back of the couch, scenting your arousal filling the air as you whimpered and went back to the last few dishes.

It wasn't fair. Trying to focus on scrubbing and rinsing as a shadow sat vibrating against your lace covered clit was nearly impossible. 5 dishes, you reminded yourself. He lets you leave them overnight to dry. Just 5 more. You focused on the dishes, doing the best you could to ignore the growing wetness between your thighs.

You almost jumped as rough hands ran up your arms. “My pretty little wife. My mate,” one of his hands wrapped and held your throat. His other hand ran down your chest, through the valley of your breasts, before settling on your hip. He started placing soft kisses along your neck, your ear. “How lucky am I to have such an obedient wife taking care of my home?” He squeezed your throat softly before his other hand began lifting Your dress. The hand on your throat moved to join the other one as he moved you away From the sink and to a different section of countertop, bending you over it and place one hand at the back of your neck to hold you Down. He groaned as his shadows held up that pretty dress, exposing those sapphire lace panties

"The dishes," you panted.

"Can wait. I can't. I've been hard since I walked in to you setting the table wearing my color, wearing a little bow tying your hair back like some innocent little thing." Your panties were moved to the side. Two fingers began to run the length of your core as Azriel groaned behind you. "So fucking wet I've hardly done anything."

You heard a muffled moan and could only assume he had put his fingers into his mouth. "So sweet, baby." You could hear him undoing his pants, feel as the head of his cock ran your folds. You could feel down the bond that it would be a long night.

You gasped loudly, gripping the counter with a mix between a moan and scream as he pushed into the hilt. Azriel wasted no time, threading one hand into your hair and pulling while the other held your hip. Azriel growled as you wiggled slightly, causing you to still. "Such a good little wife."

He wasted no time, setting a pace that had your toes curling in those heels that made your ass look phenomenal. Shadows quickly moved to hold the dress up, allowing the hand on your hip to move to your still covered clit.

There was something freeing about being below him, serving him, being used by him. It was enough for that coil to tighten faster as your mind went blank, focusing on nothing but the feeling of his heavy hard cock hitting every nerve inside of you, angling until he found the spot that had you scream his name.

Despite the roughness he fucked you with, the power you were freely handing to him, Azriel still sent wave after wave of his love, his admiration, and his pride down the bond. With each wave, that coil got tighter and tighter, your moans louder and more desperate as your body felt like it was on fire. "Be a good wife and cum for me," his fingers pressed down on that bundle of nerves, hips pistoning into you even faster as you screamed his name, walls milking his cock.

Azriel pulled out instead of following you over the ledge, ripping that dress off of you and leaving you in the lingerie and heels. He lifted you into his arms while you still came down from the high, your vision almost blurred.

You felt the soft bed under you, smelling the fresh sheets you had just changed hours ago. Azriel smelled them too as he positioned you with your head hanging off the bed. "You spoil me," his hands ran to your breasts, squeezing and tweaking your nipples.

His cock sat heavy and leaking near your face, soaked in your release, "Open." You smiled, opening your mouth wide, allowing him to push in just as two fingers slid into your heat.

He was gentle this time, for now at least, fucking your throat. You ran your tongue along his length, hollowing your cheeks and swallowing around him. You were at his mercy, wiggling and moaning around him as the wet noises of his cock in your mouth and his fingers thrusting in and out of you echoed with his moans and occasional whimper.

His pace picked up as his fingers did, making him chuckle in satisfaction as you gagged around him. "You deserve a reward for how hard you worked today, don't you, y/n?" He groaned as you moaned around him, vibrating his cock as he held it deep in your throat. "Not a single thing out of place, every chore finished, and I came home to you looking like a delicious treat? What a good little wife." You felt your vision getting slightly blurry until he pulled out again, your pleasure almost maddening as he avoided the spongy spot inside of you and brushed your swollen clit with ghost like touches. "That's what you are isn't it? No thoughts in that pretty mind of yours but pleasing me and taking my cock like an obedient whore?"

You would have nodded, begging him to give you what you needed as you agreed to every word, but his cock was still occupying and twitching in your mouth. You knew from the way his fingers had become messier in their rhythm, from the way his words were getting breathy, from how each moment of your throat burning as he held himself deep inside grew longer and longer that he was close.

You had been dreaming of his all day. Dreaming for your reward for dusting, for cooking, for cleaning. The reward you'd get when he came home to a spotless house, to his laundry done, to you wearing your pretty outfit for him.

His fingers curled into the spot you needed, pressing and tapping there as shadows curled and flicked your nipples and his thumb ran gentle circles on your clit. You finished within seconds with no warning, crying around his cock, hands fisting the sheets.

Azriel fell over the edge soon after, spilling with his cock shoved all the way into your mouth forcing you to swallow what you could, head thrown back as his wings flared and he moaned your name without shame.

He pulled out, fisting the exposed length and allowing the last of his cum to land on your face, admiring the mess of drool, makeup, and his seed you had become. His fingers left your cunt, going to his own mouth as he licked them clean with a smile. He watched as your hand waved and the bathtub began to fill.

"I'm not done with you yet," he panted, hands trailing your body.

You smiled, your own hands running up and down his thighs. "I counted in that, but let me take care of your other needs first."

Azriel looked up, a wide smile on his face as he sent a silent prayer to whoever blessed you with acts of service as your love language. "I would really like that."

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu

Valentines Day Taglist:

@sfhsgrad-blog @amara-moonlight @eternallyelvish

@novaksangel @teenageeggscissorslawyer

As always- please let me know if you would like to be added to a taglist 💜

[onelittlespiral]

You should make a top to bottom story!

FML: Worship

He had always been a great gym crush. When I was getting my pump, he would consistently be just a few machines over. His fiery hair and muscles glistened as he moved through his reps. I always worked a little harder when he was there, even though I knew it wouldn’t work. We had hardly ever exchanged words, but the few we had let me know he was straight as an arrow. I was a stacked guy myself, and I knew that there were countless twinks who would fawn over the chance to get with all this:

But I wanted him. I started slowly working up the nerve to talk to him, and was shocked to learn he knew my name

“Yeah man, I’ve seen you round here. You’ve got some sick gains, you’ve got to let me know your routine!”

From there, I decided to make a plan to ensure he would become mine.

I found a video that promised to create a “Gym Bro to Perfect Sub” out of any guy who watched it. It’s description promised that a single whiff of their dom would leave them madly in love and obedient. I told him that we should meet up at my place for some prep before hitting the gym together tomorrow. He was happy to oblige.

When he came over I quickly welcomed him in and ushered him to the couch. He sat patiently as I told him I had a tutorial for the routine set up to show the proper form. I cued up the video and left the room, turning back just to make sure it was all going according to plan. In just a few seconds, he was grinning stupidly as he fell under the spiral’s control.

As he fell deeply into a trance, the programming began:

You put in so much work bro. You should lean back and relax.

Intuitively, he leaned back on the couch, putting his feet up and hands behind his head. He had been really overworked the last few weeks.

Sit back and feel your body. Notice the feeling of muscle squeezing. Smell your body radiate heat and sex through stale deodorant. Feel the power you have. The power to change the world around you.”

He grinned as the feeling of masculinity flowed through him. He felt his muscles ache from yesterday’s workout. He had banged hard the night before and his musk was definitely not being held back by yesterday’s Axe. But the ladies loved it. He could pull just about any chick he wanted, do anything he wanted. He was a king.

You think about the person you see yourself as. But that’s not quite true, is it?

What? Nah man, he knew he was the shit. He was… he was… wasn’t he?

That’s not who you are. That’s who you could be.

As his self-perception popped, his body began to follow suit. His mature scowl began to take on a more boyish smirk. His once imposing stature shrunk down as he felt a bit more awkward and out of place. He still had potential though. Plenty of time to grow. He still worked religiously on his body to keep it plenty strong.

That’s the kind of men you look up to. Big powerful biceps. Pecs firm. Asses bubbly and tight. Cool, assertive personalities. Thick dicks to back it all up.

Y…no… yesss. That’s right. How silly of him. His arms deflated from buff to, generously, toned. His pecs shrunk down into his chest. His glutes lost tone as they became firm but small. His body sweat at the effort of losing years of hard work as muscle evaporated off of him.

This isn’t even the man you want to be. This is the man you want to be with.

At this moment, his mind flicked to his new mentor. He was promising to show him how to get shredded like him. The way his muscles glistened as he worked out… The way he towered over small guys like himself… The way his hair curled around his pecs and into those pits and captured his raw smell…

A hard on quickly developed, throbbing at the new feelings of lust. He began gently rubbing, imagining how good it would feel to pound his crush’s ass as any memories of straight life began leaking out his tip.

Men like that don’t need competition. They need relief from all the gym bros. They want a little bro. A boy toy.

All at once the need moved from his pole to deep inside. A deep itch he could never reach. A high pitched moan escaped as his ass felt so empty and needy. His thoughts of topping were drained away as he felt his ass reshaped to take cock. Any fight left in him melted away as the need to be fucked consumed his mind.

They deserve worship. They demand obedience and submission.

His mind, effectively broken at this point, slowly began to rebuild itself with one goal in mind. To bring pleasure. To serve. To feel a man use him as a tool for pleasure. He needed to submit. The spiral pushed on.

Good boy. You are ready for your new purpose. Your big, smelly gym bro will walk in soon and come to claim you. As his presence envelopes you, you will see him as yours. You will serve him so well and he will take care of you in turn.

He was ready. His mind emptied of any remaining thoughts but service and pleasure.

Good Boy.

His brain felt a warm wave of joy flow over it. He wanted to behave.

So submissive.

God he needed his dom, he needed to submit.

Perfectly happy, dumb, ready to serve.

Yeah, sooooo… happppppy… so… empty…

Now wait.

I walked into the room to his mouth still stuck agape, mind empty and happy. As my feet hit the floor, he came to, and looked over at me. I could feel his gaze trace my body as just my presence began to change his brain chemistry. “Get over here boy. ”

“Hiiii… oh god… fuuuuuck”

I walked over, picked him up off the couch, and pressed him against the wall.

“Yeah babe, take it all in. You’re much cuter. Daddy has been waiting far too long for this. I want you on this dick now,” I growled.

I watched as his mind was overtaken again, the programming taking over as my scent consumed him and my fur pressed against his body. His gaze was pure longing as he savored the scent that would become his world.

“Yes sir.” His breath was quick and heavy as his small hard on pressed against my stomach. He was drooling over my body as his tongue rolled out his mouth. He practically melted in my embrace, perfectly submissive.

“Good.” I carried him to the bed room, ready to give my new boyfriend the workout I had promised.

[seenoversundown]

Insidious : Ten

Jake Kiszka x Rory (Fem OC)

Warnings: 18+ Smut (warnings at the end if you want to avoid) Men being rude, aggressive Josh? (Crazy combination of words) a lot of angry themes, language, tense moments.

Smut Warnings include : Suggestive Language, Dom/Sub vibes, fingering, penetrative sex, praise kink, pet names, kinda angry sex?

Word Count: 2.9k

Author's Note: what the hell, sure. Here’s another one—

This is the first time I’ve really pushed out of my comfort zone for a chapter so, hopefully you enjoy! 🤭

Dallas, Texas | Day 2 | Show #3 

I’ve never been more happy to have a room alone. Yesterday was a shit show and I’m not proud of how I let it get to me. I can’t lie either, I feel a bit bad for shutting Jake down last night. He was being very sweet about everything and I did kind of just ruin it. I could tell that he was frustrated with the way I was refusing his help. 

Unfortunately, today wasn’t proving to be much better. 

Waking up to the sound of someone knocking on your door, loudly, is a choice. Frantically opening it to be faced with Jake, who has a nasty look on his face. 

“We need to leave in fifteen minutes,” he tells me, the harshness in his voice was enough to stress me out. “Don’t be fucking late.” 

Cool. Cool cool cool. 

Thinking that he would be the worst one I’d have to deal with because the other three boys were typically pretty understanding, I was sorely mistaken. The band was fine, but the moment I walked into the venue to start taking care of shit for them, the venue staff was also having a bad day. 

Primarily men, but they were all being rude as hell every time I would ask them for something. I’ve yet to be met with so many condescending responses in all the venues I’ve had to work with. 

Secretly, I was hoping that they would do it when the band was around, and that one of the guys would put them in there place, but I fear that the rude men, were too spacially aware of their surroundings and saved it specifically for me. How sweet.  

Lugging a bunch of waters into the greenroom, I drop them next to one of the tables, less than gracefully. Not realizing anybody else was in here until I turn around and see Josh sat on the couch, wide eyed. 

“You good, love?” 

I let out a sigh, “No. The staff is fucking awful.” 

“Oh?” he looks a bit concerned when I tell him. 

I shake my head, “It’s fine though. It’s my job, I’ll survive.” 

“Let me help,” he says, standing up from the couch. “You don’t need to make a million trips if you can avoid it anyway.” 

I wasn’t going to fight it, so he followed me around for a bit, helping to bring things in and avoiding the staff as much as I could. I just have to get through the next couple hours and then once the show actually starts, I can just hang out for a bit and try to decompress. 

“Can you not slam the doors when you come in?” one of the staff members says to me, a slight attitude to his voice. 

I look at him silently for a moment, letting the door shut behind me, the same way that it has every time. 

“Excuse me?” he says. 

I watch Josh walk out of the greenroom behind him, the look on his face unfamiliar. He spits out, “Hey, watch your fucking tone.” 

I have to look shocked when he says it. Nothing about that man screams aggressive, so to hear him get like that was truly surprising. 

“Oh,” the dude whips around to look at Josh. “I’m- haha, I’m sorry.”

Josh gets closer to him, his eyebrows tightly pulled together. He says, “You treat her the same as the rest of us, you got it?” 

Watching the situation from behind, the guy just frantically nods and muttering, “I’m sorry,” as he’s scurrying away. 

Josh chokes back a laugh until the guy is out of our sight. He pulls me back into the greenroom, barking out a laugh. 

“You just scared the piss out of that man,” I giggle out. 

He pretends to flip his hair over his shoulder, “I’m not gonna let a man disrespect you like that!” 

“Well, thank you,” I smile at him. “Honestly, might be the highlight of my day.” 

Hours pass and after dealing with the venue all day, it was relieving to finally get a chance to just stand around. I mindlessly stood side stage for their set. Mostly because I didn’t have anything else to do and it felt rude of me to sit in the greenroom when they were on. 

Now, I don’t know a ton about music, but I surely can tell when something feels off and the vibe coming from them tonight, did not feel the same. I couldn’t help but notice that Jake’s demeanor was.. less than pleasant tonight. A little scowl permanently on his face. 

Everything sounded okay so far, but something just felt off. I watch and seemingly all of them just didn’t look necessarily thrilled to be here. I don’t know if it’s because of the news we all got yesterday, and maybe they just haven’t fully gotten over the irritation of knowing they don’t get to go home for a while. 

I can’t blame them. I know it’s a little annoying for me too, but they have the harder side of this and to unknowingly get booked a couple more weeks worth of shows, I would have been angry too. 

I browsed instagram for a minute and as I do, I hear something sounding off. Looking back up, I see Jake facing his amp, trying to fix something. Oh no. He’s already sweating from the stage lights, but the look on his face is a little terrifying if we’re being honest. 

It takes him a minute, but he manages to fix whatever had happened. I spent a while watching, and then running back into the greenroom to gather the trash from them before they came off stage. I also do not need to hear it from the staff again. 

It doesn’t take long to pick up– they may look messy on stage sometimes, but they are very good about not leaving shit around. A weird quality I didn’t know I would appreciate so much in a group of men. 

Walking back out, just in time to catch the ending of their set. They definitely looked ready to be done and my only hope is that the crowd isn’t picking up on that. Jake was the first one to come off stage once they were done. The fake smile on his face falling the second he was out of sight for them. He shoves past me as he walks off, without saying a word. What the fuck. 

The rest of the boys seemed okay when they came off stage, just tired if anything. I walked with the rest of them back to the greenroom, per usual. And as expected, they start talking about how they are going to decompress from the night. They are nothing if not predictable when they start talking about what bars are nearby. 

“Rory, are you in?” Josh asks, looking over at me, as he’s wiping a towel down his face. 

I shake my head, “Nah, I’m just gonna go back to the hotel.” 

“Are you sure?” He raises his eyebrows. 

“Positive,” I tell him. “I think I just need to sleep.” 

I don’t want to admit that it’s just because today sucks and the last thing I want to do is be annoyed and then have Jake make it worse with his pisspoor attitude. Plus, adding alcohol into the mix? Yeah, those are odds i’m not going to fuck with actually. 

“Alright, well, we’ll see you in the morning, love!” His voice sing songs as him, Sam, and Danny file out the back down of the venue. 

“Aren’t you going?” I ask Jake, quietly. 

He shakes his head, grabbing his phone and tucking it in his back pocket. 

I tell him, “You don’t have to come with me.” 

“I’m not having you uber alone,” he admits. Unfortunately for him, that admission came with a tone I didn’t need. 

I look at him as I’m walking out the door, the attitude in my voice was strong but he also seems to enjoy making things worse when I’m already having a bad time. Saying to him, “I’m a big girl, I can handle myself.”

“I’m sure you are, I’m still going with you,” his voice monotone, and he rolls his eyes quickly.  

I sigh out, “Whatever.” 

The uber ride was unbearably tense and now while we wait for the elevator, just his presence is annoying me. I just want to be alone. I let out a deep sigh as the elevator feels like it’s taking an eternity. 

“What is your problem?” He asks. 

I spit out, “You.” 

“What the fuck did I do?” His voice was a bit louder. “All I did was make sure you made it back here.” 

“And there was no need,” I tell him, avoiding looking at him. 

In the most obnoxious tone, he says, “Woe is me, someone is trying to make sure creepy men don’t steal me” 

“Can you just fucking stop?” I finally snapped at him. 

The elevator door opens, quickly walking in and pressing the button for our floor. We stand on opposite sides just staring at each other.

“I know you’re having a bad day, but you don’t have to be an asshole to me about it,” I tell him, folding my arms over my chest.

His eyebrows shoot up as he mutters, “You’re one to talk.” 

“Oh my fucking god,” I let out rather loudly. I hesitate when I start to say, “You just- you- I swear.” 

He takes the few steps toward me, pushing me against the railing. His hand wrapped around my throat, leaning in close to me.

“What? Tell me Rory, what did I do?” He whispers, gazing down at my lips. I can feel my chest heaving in the split second we stood there. 

It was an unspoken thing, but my arms wrapped around his neck as his lips hastily pressed into mine. I forgot how good it felt to kiss him. His hand holding just under my jaw, my knees felt weak already. 

The elevator stopping at our floor, he pulls back. 

He whispers, “You can handle yourself though, right?” 

“Just shut up,” I mumble back, walking toward my door. 

All he says, “Make me.” Walking closer to me, I unlock my door and grab his wrist, pulling him inside with me. Pushing him against the door and kissing him hard.

“Since you wanna cockblock me so bad,” I whisper against his lips. 

He quietly tells me, “They wouldn’t have made you come.” 

“And you would?” I ask, popping an eyebrow at him. 

“Don’t start that shit with me,” his voice stern and I’d have to be lying if I said it wasn’t a little sexy. He starts walking me backward into the room as he tells me, “I’d have you screaming my name with two fingers, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, I’m sure,” I taunt him. 

“Rory, don’t,” the stern tone came back. 

I whisper, “Make me believe you.”

His hands drop, unbuttoning my jeans quickly before he asks, “You’re sure?” 

I just nod quickly— I swear I can feel my legs shaking. 

“Need to hear you say it,” he mumbles, keeping his hand at my waist. 

“Yes, please,” I said, rather desperately. 

He slides his hand down, and my knees subtly buckle at his fingers, hardly touching me.

“That easy?” He asks, a shitty little smirk on his lips. Tapping my hip, he says, “Take these off for me.” Pushing my pants down my legs quickly, tossing them to the side, when he mumbles, “Lay back.” 

He has one knee propped up on the bed, and hovers over me. Teasing me for a second but then slides his finger in. The way his palm pressed against my clit, the moment he starts moving his hand, I can’t control my mouth.

“Oh my god,” I moan quietly.

He whispers, “That’s just one finger, baby.” 

God, the sound of his voice alone. Grabbing his arm and the comforter with my other hand, death gripping when he slips the second finger in. Loudly gasping at the feeling, I watch the smile grow on his face. 

It’s only a couple minutes before he’s telling me, “Don’t come yet.” 

“I-“ 

His hand slows down, to almost a crawling pace. Even at the slightest movement, he knew what he was doing. I hate how good he is.  

“Do you believe me yet?” He asks, staring down at me. 

“Please, don’t stop,” I whine out quietly, tapping his arm.

He smirks at me, and the stern tone came back, “Answer the question.” 

“Jake, please,” sounding absolutely pathetic, but to be so close, and have him stop was like torture.  

His hand just pauses, held against me. He tilts his head, and tauntingly says, “I can wait.” 

“Fucking, yes— I believe you,” I practically yell, desperate for him to keep going. “Please, please–” 

The look in his eyes was dark, mumbling, “Mmm, I love to hear you beg me” 

“I’m so close,” I moan. “Please, Jake—” 

He pulls his hand back, the cool air hitting me for a second until he rapidly starts rubbing my clit. I’m back to gripping the bedsheets, inching closer and closer to an orgasm. 

“Yes, yes-Jake,” Loudly escaping me. He was right. “Jake, oh my GOD.” 

He leans down close to my ear and whispers, “Such a pretty girl, and making a mess for me.” I can feel it about to snap when he hums a little ‘mmm’ next to me. 

Everything felt like a blur, my body felt warm and tingly, my chest heaving to catch my breath. He’s still hovered over me, just watching me go through it. My hand reaching up and touching his jaw, I’m whispering, “Jake-” 

“What is it, baby?” He asks, his voice almost.. sweet. 

Smiling up at him, still loosely in a daze, when I tell him, “Fuck me.” 

“You sure?” His eyebrow popped up as he asks.  

I sit up onto my knees in front of him, running my hands up his chest, until my arms are around his neck. Playing with a few pieces of his hair. 

“Take all that anger out on me,” I tell him, my lips only a breath away from him. “I know you want to.”

His eyes drop, muttering, “Be careful what you ask for.”

“I can handle it,” I say, unbuttoning his jeans as fast as I can, and sliding them down far enough. Seeing how hard he is through his boxers, I coo, “Oh, let me take care of that.” 

In one motion, pulling his boxers down and licking a stripe up the length of him. Oh my god he’s— His hand grabbing my jaw and tilting my head up to look at him.  

He just says, “Turn around.” 

“What if I don’t?” I tease him. 

“Rory,” He says, and something about his slightly pissed off voice, just does something for me. He tells me, “I swear to god, I will fuck you into the headboard, turn around.”

A little shiver ran through my body, but the speed of which I turned around was insane. Propping my ass up for him slightly, I feel him slip into me. The groan that came out of him alone could have sent me over the edge. 

“You’re so—,” falls out of me, but when he starts snapping his hips into me harder, words are no longer a thing. The air filled with loud moans and yelps. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He asks. Feeling his hand slide up my back, until it lands on the back of my head, he starts pushing me into the bed 

“Yes,” comes out of me louder than I expected. 

“Taking me so well,” His praises making my head spin. “Such a good fucking girl.” 

He leans down close to me, “What did you call me?” His hand coming down on my ass quickly.

“Fuck” I moan out. Smiling when I call him,“Daddy.” 

“Mmm,” He hums. Only another minute passes when he’s muttering, “Gonna come.” 

The room felt so quiet, only our heavy breaths filling the space. The reality starting to set in as I sat there. 

“Um,” I start. “Sooo-” 

It sounds like he almost laughs when he says, “Hang on.” 

Feeling him wipe everything away he lets out a little, “There.” 

Facing him, I sat on the edge of the bed for a minute. He looks.. So good. His pants still unbuttoned, and the little flush to his face. Staring at him for a second before asking, “Do you need to go?” But hesitating, because I can’t expect him to stay. “I mean.. you can obviously.. I just—“

He steps a little closer to me, laughing when he says, “I may be a dick sometimes, but I’m not just gonna dip like that.” 

“Okay,” I smile, standing up. Pressing my hands against his chest, I lean up and kiss him a few times before whispering, “I think.. I’m gonna go shower.” 

His eyebrows pop up, “… is that an invitation?” 

“Maybe,” I let out, smirking at him. My hand sliding into his and pulling him toward the bathroom. My eyebrows pull together when I tell him, “I’m still a little .. stressed.” 

Nine

Masterpost

Taglist: (reply or dm to be added)

@gvfsstardust @myleftsock @imleavingyoufornewyork @dont-go-home-without-me

@literal-dead-leaf @lizzys-sunflower @mackalah @klarxtr

@edgingthedarkness @writingcold @takenbythemadness @i-love-gvf

@earthgrlsreasy @peaceloveunitygvf @gretavanfan @musicspeaks

@jazzyfigz @smoking-jakelane @demonrat444 @hollyco

@josh-iamyour-mama @wrldabomination @broken0mens @whereiskeara

@gvf-luna @lilbitx @gvfstuddedmajesty @katuschka @chloeshell1219

@becinabubblegvf @scoreofinfantryvines @ourlovesdesires

@sanguinebats @nicoleghost18 @lightmy-love

@monkeylaura627 @myownparadise96 @cheersdannyx2 @dyslexicchild13

@lallisonl @mohollandtx @fleetingjake @allof--mylove

@anythingforjtk @musicislove3389

@i-choose-the-road @demolitiondanchipsversion @godly-sinsx

@joshylanefleet @alantern-inthenight

[anotherjheastan]

This Will Be Our Year - A Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley Fanfic

CW: suggestive, mentions sex (not descriptive)

Chapter 10 | Chapter List

Chapter 11: Clear the Air

September 18, 2024

Rhea sat on the deck in her backyard, watching her dogs run around. She had thrown some tennis balls for them every now and then. Her phone rang and she felt nervous. It was Jey on FaceTime for their big chat. It wasn’t a big deal really. But she was worried about saying the wrong thing. What if it turned out they weren’t actually compatible? 

“Hi,” Rhea said, smiling.

“Damn girl,” he said, smiling. “Got the sun shining down on you.”

She giggled. “Shut up.”

“You look good,” he said.

“Thanks,” Rhea said, glancing away from the phone. 

“Alright, back to the agenda,” Jey said.

Jey had actually sent an agenda yesterday: 

Communication style - how do you deal with conflict?

Expectations - rules of this relationship

Let’s talk about sex - likes, dislikes, hard no’s

He said it was to give them time to seriously think it over. And Rhea had. 

“How I deal with conflict is by talking about it right away,” Jey said. “I don’t like going away angry or sad when we can work through it now. What about you?”

Rhea chuckled. “I prefer space depending on the conflict. If I’m really mad or upset, I need time to process. Otherwise I’ll just scream and it still won’t be resolved.”

Jey nodded. “Is a day good? Or do you need longer?”

Rhea shrugged. “Depends. Most of the time, a day is good.”

“Noted.”

“I also have anxiety so sometimes I’m just in my head. That just affects my general communication sometimes,” Rhea said.

“Okay,” Jey said. “Is there a way you would like me to handle that?”

“Umm just keep being patient, I guess,” Rhea said. She touched her cheek, thinking about the other night. How he called her out for being in her head, gently stroking her cheek. “Thanks for being patient with me.”

“No problem. I can do that,” he said, smiling. “Anything else on your mind for communication?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. 

“Cool,” he said. “Ready for expectations?

Rhea shifted in her seat, crossing her legs. “Yeah.”

“How 'bout you go first?” He asked.

“Oh I…I think it’s okay if we see other people,” Rhea said. 

Rhea had decided this begrudgingly yesterday. She felt her roller coaster of emotions were too much for Jey. That he should keep his options open. Even though the thought of Jey with another woman turned her stomach. 

Jey’s eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything. Rhea pulled at the hem of her shirt. 

“I mean it’s so early, you know? We’re still trying to figure this all out. And just when I feel ready to move on, something happens with Dom.”

“I don’t want us to see other people,” he said. “I’m selfish. I want you all to myself.”

Rhea blushed, looking out to her yard at her dogs. They were resting in the grass. 

“Part of the reason I think we should be exclusive is because of your feelings for Dom,” Jey said. “It’s a lot. Figuring out what you feel for him…and what you feel for me. I’m not asking for any other sort of commitment right now. I just want you to have the space to explore without any distractions.”

“But what if you meet someone while I’m sorting through all my emotions?” she asked.

“I don’t want anyone else,” he said. 

“But—,” Rhea started, but Jey was shaking his head. 

“I only want you,” Jey said. 

Rhea looked away from him. She didn’t want to believe him. Memories of Dom promising forever, making plans for after SummerSlam came to the surface. She stood up and called Barry and Bella. They followed her inside. She settled back down on the couch, wiping her watery eyes.

“I know that might be hard for you to accept right now,” Jey said. “But it’s true. And if it makes you uncomfortable for us to be exclusive, we don’t have to be.” 

Rhea looked anywhere but her phone. She felt flattered and nervous and scared. Too many things at once. 

“Rhea,” Jey said. She looked at her phone, at him. “Do you want to stop? We can talk about this stuff another day.” 

Rhea laughed half-heartedly. “But we were about to get to the fun part…”

Jey gave her a half-smile. “How about you call me back when you’re ready?”

“What if that’s not today?” 

“That’s fine too.”

 A few moments of silence passed. 

“I’ll call you back,” Rhea said quietly. A tear fell from her eye. 

“Bye Rhea,” he said. 

“Bye Jey.” 

He looked at her for a moment before hanging up. Rhea sighed. She felt her anger towards Dom building. He had just moved on. Why couldn’t she?

Because you aren’t a lying, cheating bastard, she thought.

Rhea got her journal and started writing. She poured all her emotions on the page: cussing Dom out and craving Jey. Jey felt like a cupcake before cheat day. She didn’t deserve him. But she knew she didn’t just want him because Dom rejected her or because he was interested in her. She genuinely wanted him. And she felt like she was failing at showing him. His patience was starting to feel more like indulgence and he deserved better. But how could she tell him that? 

Maybe you’re being too hard on yourself, a thought popped up. Rhea froze. Maybe you should let him love you and then you’ll find a way to show him you love him too. 

Okay, maybe not love. Rhea felt silly, reasoning with herself. But let him care for you and you can show him you care for him. 

After Rhea ate dinner, she called Jey back.

“Hey,” Jey answered. His hair was wet and he was shirtless. “I just got out the shower.”

“I see,” Rhea said, letting her eyes wander. 

Jey smirked. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to continue our conversation from earlier, but I can call you back…” 

“Naw, we can. I just won’t be on screen the whole time.”

Rhea bit her lip, keeping her thoughts to herself. Jey laughed. 

“I know you probably want me to be on screen, but I’m keeping it PG.” 

“Until we talk about sex,” Rhea said. 

“Yeah, we will definitely not be keeping it PG then,” he said, winking at her. He put his phone down and she could see his ceiling. 

“So where were we?” Jey asked. 

“Umm, to be exclusive or not,” Rhea said. 

“And have you made a decision?” 

“Can I be honest?” Rhea asked. 

“Always.” 

“I didn’t want us to be exclusive because I didn’t want you to miss out on someone better for you.” 

“Someone better for me?” Jey repeated. 

“Yeah. One minute I’m fine, the next I’m dealing with old feelings. You deserve someone…healed.”

He picked up the phone. His hair was a mess, half towel-dried. 

“Rhea, I want all versions of you. I’m not afraid because you’re going through something. I’ve only ever wanted to be there for you. But I get how it can be a lot.”

“I only want you,” Rhea said quietly, glancing away from her phone. “I only want these feelings I have for you.”

“You’re human, Rhea. You’re allowed to feel more than one thing at a time,” he said.

Rhea looked at him, slowly accepting what he said. “We can be…exclusive. No titles.”

“No titles,” Jey agreed. “Just dating.” 

Rhea nodded. Jey smiled. “I’m gonna put my phone down again, but I’m listening.” 

“Okay.” 

“Any other expectations you have?” he asked.

“Umm, probably just make sure we hear from each other at least once a day. Text or call,” Rhea said. 

“Yeah, I like that.” 

“I think that’s it.”

“Ready for the fun part?” Jey asked.

Rhea laughed, shifting in her seat. “Sure.”

Jey picked up his phone. His hair was a little more manageable. He had on a white tank top. He laid back on his bed. 

“So let’s talk about sex,” he said. “Tell me what you like.” 

Rhea wished she was still looking at his ceiling. He had a slight smirk on his face. He was trying to play it cool. She glanced away as she talked, the room getting hotter as she talked about letting go and being dominated and her favorite positions. Jey was cool listening, but he stuttered when it was his turn to share. Rhea crossed her legs, listening intently. She made several mental notes. 

“Why didn’t we have this conversation in person again?” Rhea asked. 

“Because we wouldn’t have finished it,” Jey said, half a smile on his face. 

Rhea nodded. “We definitely wouldn’t have.” 

They watched each other. Rhea was definitely thinking about the fact that they were only 15 minutes apart. Why wait any longer? Rip the bandaid off. 

“I’m gonna get something to eat,” he said, sitting up. 

Rhea grinned, biting her tongue. “Okay.”

Jey smirked. “Nasty. I’ll call you tomorrow.” 

“Me? Nasty? I’m an angel,” Rhea said, winking.

“Okay, ‘demon in your dreams.’ Bye.” 

Rhea laughed. “Bye Jey.” 

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

shy!jealous!ethan x reader smut??

Hiii, I think I used a little more jealousy than shyness in this. Oops :/ I hope you still like it :)

Why Worry - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: Ethan's jealous of another guy, so you show him that you're his.

A/N: Some things in this really make me want to write another Dom!Ethan smut🥴

You got really close with Ethan after meeting the “Core Four”, so close that you took his virginity. Ethan had feelings for you before all of that happened, but he was too scared of rejection to tell you how he actually felt. The more he thought about that night, he felt like you were probably just doing him a favor, and that there were no feelings from your end. He still tried to treat you the same, not wanting anything to feel weird.

As he walked into the class you two had together, he saw a guy sitting in the seat beside you, the seat Ethan always sat in. He watched him flirt with you, his heart breaking at the interaction in front of him. He was trying to find another seat when you whisper-yelled his name to get his attention. He glanced over to see your curious expression, and that the guy was gone.

“Hey,” you said to Ethan as he sat down beside you. “Why were you going to sit over there?”

“There was someone in my seat when I walked in,” he said, irritation in his voice as he pulled his MacBook out.

“Oh, Jake? He was just asking me for my notes from music theory. He missed the class yesterday,” you said, as the teacher walked in to start his lecture.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s all he wanted,” Ethan rolled his eyes, glancing a couple rows back to see Jake still staring at you. “Dude’s still checking you out.”

“Why is it a big deal?” you asked, starting to get a little annoyed. Ethan had no reason to get jealous when he didn’t even try to pursue you after you’d slept with him. If anything, you felt like you’re the one that should be mad.

“It’s not, don’t worry about it,” he sighed, as the professor started to speak.

When class was over, Ethan packed his stuff and bolted out of the classroom. He usually walked you back to your dorm because it was on the way to his. You sighed as you put your stuff away, not knowing what to do.

You wanted to give Ethan time to cool off, but you needed to know what his problem was. You passed your dorm and went to his, taking a deep breath before you knocked on the door.

“Hey!” Chad said as he answered, his normal happy grin on his face.

“Hey, is Ethan here?” you asked, as he pulled his hoodie over his head in the doorway.

“Yeah, he’s here. You kids have fun, I’m going to take Tara to a movie tonight,” Chad said, walking out the door.

You saw Ethan on his bed, scrolling through his phone.

“What’s going on with you?” you asked, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. “Why didn’t you walk me home?”

“I thought you’d want Jake to,” he said, his words starting to piss you off.

“Okay, whatever weird jealousy shit this is, it’s dumb. I don’t want Jake,” you said, reaching over to take the phone from his hands so he’d be present for the conversation that obviously needed to be had.

“I’m not jealous,” Ethan said, as you cocked your eyebrow at him. Your stare was on him for a few seconds. “Fuck it. Yes, I’m jealous.”

“You don’t really have the right to be jealous, though,” you said, his face getting flush at your words.

He was trying to be calm, but he was really starting to get upset.

“I think you should go,” he whispered, grabbing his phone again.

“Not until you tell me why you’re jealous. You’re the one that acted like nothing happened between us.”

“You’re the one that only wanted to fuck me because you felt sorry for me!” he yelled, tossing his phone back down. His eyes were wide as he looked into yours, but you could see the hurt through the anger.

“You ever think that maybe I wanted to have sex with you because I was interested in you?” you asked, “I had a huge crush on you. Chad said you felt the same, but then you just acted like it was nothing. That shit hurt.”

Ethan watched you wipe away the stray tear that slipped out, feeling like an idiot.

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” he said, sitting up to scoot closer to you.

“Yeah, I did,” you said, as he pulled you into a half-hug.

“So, you DID feel that way. You don’t anymore?” he asked, nervous that you could hear how loud his heart was pounding in his chest.

“I still feel that way.”

He exhaled a sigh of relief as his hand reached your jaw, turning your face towards his as he leaned in.

“I’m sorry I was a jerk,” he said, his mouth inches from yours.

“I’ll forgive you if you kiss me,” you smirked, before your lips linked together.

He was kissing you with determination, like he needed to prove how much he wanted to be with you. It was so sweet and loving, but you really wanted to turn up the heat. When he pulled away a little to catch his breath, you lightly bit his bottom lip. He gasped at your action, pushing you back on the bed.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, placing a kiss to your lips, before moving to your neck.

You were really getting into it, as your hands started to run over his chest and his arms as he continued to kiss you. You started to lift the hem of his shirt up when he pulled away and smiled at you.

“I get the feeling that you’re trying to fuck me,” he said, pulling the article of clothing over his head.

“I am, and I promise it’s not me trying to do you a favor,” you said, in a playful tone as you thought about what he said earlier.

“What if Chad comes back?” he asked, glancing between you and the door.

“He’s going to be gone for a couple hours,” you said, pulling him back down to reconnect your lips.

“Maybe I should text him, just in case,” he mumbled against your lips.

“Okay,” you groaned as he pulled away.

He sent the message but waited for Chad’s response once he saw the three dots. He laughed when he saw the message.

“He said there’s condoms in his nightstand if I need them, and that I better not fuck this up,” he said, walking over to grab one of the condoms.

You giggled as he walked back over to you, noticing his erection confined by the fabric of his jeans.

“I think I need to get you out of your shirt,” he said, tossing the condom on the bed.

He raised your shirt as you lifted up a little so he could easily get it over your head. He placed kisses to the parts of your breasts that were exposed as he reached behind you to unhook your bra. He pulled the straps down your arms with ease, before placing gentle licks to your nipples. The coolness of the room and the wetness on your nipples gave you chills as his mouth continued.

You were whimpering as he placed open mouth kisses to your ribs as his hands gripped your hips. He was teasing you, and as badly as you wanted him to fuck you, he was so good with his mouth. You started to move your hips against his, attempting to give your clit a little relief from the throbbing.

He took the hint, reaching his hand down to rub you over your pants.

“I’m sorry if I’m still not the best at this, I’ve only done it once,” he said, laughing a little.

“You’re doing such a good job,” you praised, as he started to unbutton your pants.

He slid them down your thighs as you watched him. He saw the giant wet spot on your panties, and he got this feral glint in his eyes.

“God, baby. Your panties are soaked,” he said, rubbing you over the material.

“Mhm,” you mewled, “It’s all for you.”

“All for me, huh?” he said, his actions getting more intense.

He took off his pants, before crawling back to you and adjusting your hips the way he wanted them. His cock in his boxers was rubbing against your clothed pussy.

“Fuck,” you gasped, as his hand grabbed your breast, squeezing as he gently pulled on your nipples.

He’d definitely gained some confidence since the last time, but you were really starting to grow impatient.

“Ethan, please fuck me,” your moans were desperate as you begged.

“You don’t want me to eat you out first?” he asked, a little bummed.

“Baby, I need to cum. I don’t care how you make that happen,” you said, grabbing his hand that was still on your nipple and pushing it down your stomach.

“Oh, I’ll make you cum,” he said, pulling your panties off you.

Your legs instinctively started to spread as he pushed them back.

“I need you to hold these back for me,” he said, before licking a fat stripe across your clit.

“Oh fuck,” you whimpered, his tongue moving faster against you.

He alternated between licking it and sucking it into his mouth, loving the filthy sounds pouring out of your mouth.

He reached into his boxers to pull his aching cock out, stroking it slowly for a few seconds. Your eyes connected with his as he slid two fingers inside of you.

“Ethannn,” you whined out, his fingers hitting your g-spot over and over again.

He smirked as he latched back onto your clit, your back arching off the bed as his teeth gently grazed it.

“Yes baby just like that, fuck,” you whimpered, as his finger movements sped up.

Your eyebrows knitted together as your mouth fell open. Your hips were starting to move with his fingers, desperately chasing your orgasm.

“That feels so fucking good, Eth. You’re doing so good,” you gasped out, that feeling starting to build inside you.

The praise you were giving him made his fingers press harder against the sweet spot inside your clenching pussy, making you see stars.

“I’m gonna cum,” you babbled, the feeling washing over you making it hard to speak.

He kept going as your toes curled into the sheets, and your thighs were shaking as you were trying to keep them up.

He pulled his fingers out of you and placed a single kiss to your clit, before crawling up your body to kiss you.

“That was amazing,” you mumbled against his lips. “Want me to suck your cock?”

“I don’t know, I’m kinda liking the idea of you as a pillow princess,” he smirked, grabbing the condom off the bed beside you. You frowned at his words. “Hey, I loved it last time, but I don’t think we have a lot of time left.”

He was right, the two of you have been going at this for a while. “Fine,” you whispered.

“Are you giving me attitude?” he asked, that feral look still in his eyes. He was smiling, but you knew there was some darkness to it.

“No, baby,” you said, sitting up to kiss him as he was lining up between your legs.

He held you there, your lips clashing with his, as he slid his cock inside of you.

“Oh shit,” you moaned, the position making it easy for him to hit your g-spot.

Your eyes connected with his, your faces inches apart, as he went all the way in.

“Fuck, you’re going so deep,” you cried out.

“Lay back babe,” he said, releasing the grip he had on you.

Your legs wrapped around his hips as he started to speed up. He was just as deep, your hands holding onto his shoulders as your body reacted to the pleasure.

“I love watching your tits bounce when I fuck you,” he grunted. Sweat was starting to drip down his forehead. “And I love the way your tight little pussy squeezes my cock.”

Your whimpers got louder as he spoke.

“Oh baby, you like it when I talk to you like that?” he asked, his fingers starting to rub your clit.

“Mhm,” you moaned, the stimulation turning your mind to mush.

“I love those pretty sounds coming out of your mouth. I’m so lucky.” he said, watching your facial expressions change as he spoke. “This pussy is mine.”

The possessiveness of his words made you start to clench around him.

“Fuck yes, I’m all yours,” you moaned out, your vision starting to get spotty.

“You gonna cum on my cock baby?” he asked, applying a little pressure to your clit.

“Umf..yes.”

As your orgasm hit, he was thankful, because he’s been close for a few minutes and was trying to hold back. He started to pound into you, making your climax even more intense.

“I’m gonna cum,” he muttered, his hips coming to a stop as he released into the condom. “Fuck, that was amazing.”

You nodded, unable to form words. Your mind cleared quickly, though, as you heard the door to his dorm room unlock.

“Shit,” he said, throwing a sheet over you and getting rid of the condom.

Chad walked in, before turning right back around.

“You know I love you, dude, but that’s more of you than I ever needed to see,” you giggled at Chad’s words.

“You knew what was happening in here though!” Ethan said, putting his boxers back on.

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect it to still be going on after two hours,” he said, your eyes going wide as you realized how quickly the time passed. “I’m going to wait out here so you guys can get dressed.”

The door closed behind him as you started to laugh so hard that tears were streaming down your cheeks.

“It’s not funny!” Ethan said, laying down on his stomach beside you.

“It kinda is, just think if he was a few minutes earlier,” you said, wiping the tears from your face.

“So, does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?” he asked, running his hand over the sheet covering your thigh.

“It fucking better.”

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part thirty-four] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, angst, smut (mdni ; 18+)

word count: 3.8k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

additional smut warnings: protected sex, public(ish) sex

“Were you able to get some rest?” Jisung asked, hand in yours as you walked through the airport together. 

“Not much,” you admitted. 

“Thankfully, I don’t think we’re doing anything today. We can just crash when we get to the hotel.”

“Okay.”

Jet lag was hitting you particularly hard. Oahu was a whole eighteen hours behind Bali, meaning you were technically in yesterday. Everyone else seemed to be handling it fine but maybe that was because they hadn’t ruined their relationship with their best friend by sleeping with his brother. 

It was midday and already hot as hell. You waited outside with the Hans while Dom filled out the paperwork for rental cars. He called Minho inside to sign a waiver that allowed him to be the driver of the other car. Minho was the only one of the four of you who was old enough to legally drive a rental car and he rubbed it in the rest of your faces with a shake of the keys once he rejoined your group. 

 “Follow us to the resort,” Dom instructed Minho. “I’ll send you the address in case you lose us.”

You climbed into the backseat with Jisung and slumped over on his shoulder. You tried to stay awake as Minho drove through the island but your eyelids were feeling heavy and the winding mountain roads weren’t helping. 

“Are we not staying in Honolulu?” you asked, watching the road signs zoom past. 

“We’ll take a day trip over there but my parents wanted to stay at Ko’Olina again because they liked it so much last time,” Jisung explained. 

“Right, I forgot that you guys have been here before.” 

“I try not to think about it.”

Your time in Hawai’i was being split between two islands: Oahu and Kauai. In Oahu, you were staying in separate hotel rooms, and in Kauai, everyone was sharing a condo again. 

It was nice to be able to have your own space but it also meant that there really wasn’t a way to avoid Jisung. You were kind of stuck with him. At least he was speaking to you again. He’d had some time to cool down so he wasn’t as angry but you could tell that he didn’t particularly want to spend time with you either. 

You were stuck at a crossroads in that respect. You weren’t sure how to mend things with him but you knew you wanted to. You just weren’t sure if he felt the same way. He had been pretty clear the night that he found out about you and Minho that he wanted nothing to do with you outside of your already agreed-upon deal. But that had been in the heat of the moment. You had tried extinguishing any flicker of hope that threatened to engulf you in order to protect yourself from being hurt again, but it was getting harder and harder to do the more time you spent with him. 

Sometimes it felt like nothing had changed. There were fleeting moments shared between just the two of you when there was no one around to pretend for that made you think your friendship might still be salvageable. But they never lasted long. They were lapses in Jisung’s judgment, when he would accidentally let his guard down, acting like you were still those kids you had been back at school, like you were still his favorite person. 

He ordered room service for the two of you and you ate in relative silence. When the tension became unbearable you turned on the TV and flipped through the channels, ultimately deciding on some show playing on The Food Network. Perfect vacation television. It was a rerun of Chopped. You could tell it was a rerun from the dated fashion choices and technology- not because you were an avid fan or anything, though you had seen your fair share of episodes by being best friends with a culinary student. Whenever you watched it together Jisung liked to play a game where he would invent his own dishes with the ingredients the contestants were given. 

“What would you make with that?” you asked, nodding at the screen, trying to lighten the mood.

He took a moment to think, mulling over the assortment of items in his mind. “Probably a salad of some kind since it’s the appetizer round. It’s a cop-out but I could make a dressing with that peanut brittle.”

You hummed in acknowledgment. “Knowing you, it would probably still taste good.”

“You have too much faith in me.”

“Or I just know you.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

-

Later that night, after you had both showered, you tried bringing up your conversation from the other day but Jisung shut you down entirely. 

“I don’t want to talk about this,” he mumbled, tossing one of the extra pillows from the bed onto the armchair a little harder than necessary. 

“But-”

“I’m just not ready yet,” he cut you off. “I... don’t want to say anything else I don’t mean. And I’m not ready to forgive you yet.”

There it was again, that stupid spark of hope struck like a match against the side of your heart. 

You nodded in understanding, biting your lip to keep from showing just how disappointed you were. 

It was a strange mix of emotions, hope and disappointment. They were complete opposites but somehow you were feeling them simultaneously. 

“O-okay,” you said shakily, watching as he climbed into bed. 

You moved to do the same even though it felt painfully awkward, how were you supposed to just go to bed after that? How did people in relationships do it? How did people just roll over and fall asleep like nothing had happened after an argument? 

As soon as you reached to pull the sheets back, fingertips brushing the fabric, your phone vibrated next to you on the bedside table. 

You glanced at the screen and saw that it was a message from Minho. He was asking you to meet him downstairs. It wasn’t that late but it was already dark and it had been a long day. What could he possibly want?

Jisung must have noticed the look on your face because he sighed and muttered “go” at you without meeting your eyes. 

“I, uh, I’ll be back. Later.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

You made sure to grab a room key on the way out and then hurried down the hall to the elevator, pressing the down button over and over again until it finally arrived at your floor. 

Minho was waiting for you in the lobby like he said he would be, leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed impatiently. To your surprise, he smiled when he saw you. 

“What’s so important you couldn’t tell me over text?” you demanded in annoyance. 

Minho’s grin faltered but didn’t fall. He just eyed you with an air of amusement. “Who said I had something to tell you?”

“Why else would you make me come down here?”

He raised an arm, dangling the key to the rental car he had driven earlier that day. “Wanna get out of here?”

-

“Where are we going?” you asked. 

“Do you trust me?”

“Not particularly.”

Minho placed his hand over his heart and winced. “You wound me.”

“Just tell me where you’re taking me!”

“But that ruins the surprise!” he argued. 

“The surprise? It’s like eleven p.m. and I’m tired! Why are you dragging me out at this hour? Jisung’s already annoyed that I came down here to meet you in the first place.”

“How does he know?”

“Who else would text me at this hour?”

“Fair point. But are you just going to stand there and interrogate me all night or are we doing this?”

You huffed in frustration. “I don’t even know what ‘this’ is!”

“Come on!”

Minho grabbed your hand before you could argue any further and dragged you out through the lobby into the parking lot. 

“So now you’re kidnapping me?” you exclaimed, tripping over your own feet.

Minho chuckled but still shot you a look of warning. “Keep your voice down! People are going to think you’re serious.”

“Yes, sir,” you deadpanned. 

“Stop trying to turn me on in public, you already have an unfair advantage.”

You weren’t sure how serious he was but you rolled your eyes anyway. You also didn’t know what he meant by the second part but you didn’t ask about that either. 

He didn’t let go of your hand until you reached the car. And even then, it seemed like he was hesitant to release you from his grasp, fingers lingering on your palm like he was afraid you’d run away the second he set you free.

But you climbed into the passenger seat and buckled your seatbelt without a second thought. A series of poor decisions had already led you here. What was a couple more?

Mostly, your curiosity is what drove you to get in the car with him. You figured you didn’t have much to lose at this point. You hadn’t spoken more than a couple of words to Minho in the last few days. You had assumed he’d want nothing to do with you after you fucked up his relationship with his brother-- then again, maybe he didn’t want anything to do with you and was only driving you somewhere where he could chew you out without anyone overhearing. Hell, maybe he was taking you out to a pier where he could push you in the water so that your body would never be found. 

No, he's too famous for that. He’d never get away with it. 

You were silent as Minho put the car in gear and backed out of the lot. As soon as he turned onto the main road he rolled the windows down, glancing over at you to make sure it didn’t bother you. 

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

You watched him mess with the radio dial until a signal from a local station was picked up. Once he found something, he adjusted the volume so that you could hear the music over the sound of the rushing wind, and then he reached across the center console, hand outstretched. The gesture caught you off guard, and you were unsure whether or not you should take it. You figured it would be more awkward if you left him hanging so you looked away and slipped your fingers between his, relaxing into the familiar feeling. 

The roads were mostly empty. Everything was already closed for the night. Eventually, Minho merged onto the highway, heading east. 

“Do you know where you’re going?” you asked twenty minutes later when he still hadn’t taken an exit. You were beginning to suspect that he didn’t really have anyplace in particular in mind, that he was just taking you for a late night drive, which would have been fine. You liked long drives too. But he had made it all seem so mysterious and the anticipation was killing you. 

“Of course I do, how dare you doubt me!”

“It’s just that you don’t have a GPS on or anything!”

“I’ve been here before,” he reminded you.

“Yeah, one time three years ago.”

“That’s all I need,” he assured you. “And if you pay attention to the road signs you don’t even need to memorize the route.”

“You sound like my dad,” you mumbled. 

“Your dad must be a very talented navigator,” Minho said decisively, complimenting himself.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, but he didn’t fail his driver’s test- what was it, four times?”

“Low blow,” he chided and shook his head. 

“You needed to be humbled.”

Comfortable silence resumed between the two of you as Minho continued driving. He got off the highway a few miles later and wove through town before finally turning onto a rocky uphill path. The radio signal weakened almost immediately, static interrupting the music that had been playing. He turned the volume down out of instinct.

“Remind me, do you get carsick?” Minho asked suddenly, like it was an afterthought that had just occurred to him. 

“Um, sometimes? Why do you ask?”

“These roads are winding,” he explained, “they might make you nauseous. Just try to look straight ahead. Don’t look at your phone.”

“I haven’t looked at my phone this entire time!”

“Well don’t start now.”

You braced yourself for the twists and turns of the road but it was difficult to anticipate where they would be with how dark it was. The headlights of the car were the only source of light on the gravel road, everything else surrounded by shadows and silhouettes of trees.

Finally, just when you were starting to feel a little lightheaded, Minho pulled into a little lot on the side of the road. 

“Are we here?” you asked, squinting in the darkness to try and make anything out.

“Yup,” Minho answered with a smile.

He turned off the car, letting the headlights dim.

“Come on!”

“We’re getting out?” you exclaimed. 

“Would you just trust me?” 

Sighing, you kicked open the passenger side door and climbed out of the car. Minho rounded the back to meet you on your side, blanket in hand. 

“Where are we?”

“Listen.”

You closed your eyes and did as you were told, waiting for any sort of clue as to where you were. In the distance, you could hear waves crashing against the shore. The salt in the air and the sound of breeze rustling through palm fronds only confirmed what you already knew. 

“You took me to the beach?”

“Follow me.”

Minho took your hand and led you along the sandy path down to the shore. You toed off your shoes and held them in your free hand as you walked. The place was practically empty. The only other signs of life were the flames from a bonfire about half a mile down the beach.  

Minho used the flashlight on his phone so you could see where you were going, keeping you steady when you tripped over your own feet in the uneven sand. 

“Careful there,” he chuckled. 

He picked a spot that wasn’t too far from the path, something that put a little more distance between you and the bonfire. 

“Is this okay?”

“Seems as good a place as any,” you said and shrugged. 

Minho laid out the blanket and motioned for you to sit on it. The sand underneath the fabric was cool, having long lost hold of the heat from the sun. It molded to the shape of your body as you chose a comfortable position. 

You could feel Minho’s presence beside you but neither of you moved closer to the other. You figured he hadn’t brought you all the way out here to sit in silence, but you didn’t want to be the one to prompt the conversation. He was the one who was so insistent on coming, he could make the first move. 

He did, after several more moments. You waited patiently, allowing him to collect his thoughts. His eyebrows were knit together, eyes downcast, as if he were having an internal argument with himself. Then, his expression softened and he met your gaze, any trace of conflict seemingly absolved.

“You look really pretty.”

You scoffed. “You can’t even see me that well.”

“Speak for yourself, I can see you perfectly.”

“It’s dark out!”

“We have the moonlight.”

“Barely.”

“I think you need to get your eyes checked,” Minho teased. 

“Did you bring me out here just to make fun of me?”

“Yeah, are you not having a good time?” Minho asked. “Do I need to up my game?”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t grant him a response, instead pulling your knees to your chest so that you could rest your chin on them. 

“Do you like it? Here, I mean?”

You nodded. “It’s nice. Quiet.”

“Mhm.”

“But why this beach? I mean, we’re on an island, the whole place is beach, but you drove me all the way out here.”

“It’s usually pretty empty, especially at night.”

“And you know that because... you’ve taken lots of girls out here?”

“If you count my mum, then yes,” he said sarcastically. “I don’t exactly frequent the island of O’ahu.” 

“So you’re saying that if you did, you’d bring girls here all of the time?”

“Oh, totally. It’s how I’d seal the deal, like all the assholes in the movies.”

“By telling them they’re the first one you’ve ever brought here?”

“Exactly. But you know I’m telling you the truth because you already slept with me.”

You shoved him with a scoff, a little harder than you intended, making Minho fall back onto the blanket. 

“Hey! What was that for?”

“You know exactly what that was for.”

He grinned sheepishly and then stretched out the arm that was closest to you. “C’mon, then. Join me.”

You shifted a bit, moving further down on the quilt so that when you laid back Minho’s arm would slot perfectly under your neck. You curled up to him, slinging your own arm across his stomach. The rhythm of his breathing along with the sounds of the waves breaking against the shore was soothing. It was the most relaxed you’d felt in a long time. You were halfway to sleep when you felt Minho murmur something into your hair. 

“What?’ you asked groggily, blinking your eyes open. 

“The stars, look.”

You repositioned yourself a bit so that you could stare straight up at the sky to see what he was talking about, gasping quietly when you did.

It wasn’t as impressive as the night skies on the boat had been, you were much closer to civilization now, but it was still better than anything you’d ever gotten to see back home. It was as if the sky was dripping with diamonds, stars hanging out of reach like they were on display at a store far out of your budget. 

“It’s gorgeous.”

“I thought you might like it,” Minho mused, “I’m glad the clouds cleared so you could see them.”

“It’s nice here even without the stars,” you assured him. “Though, they’re definitely a highlight.”

Minho turned his head to look at you, smiling. Your eyes had adjusted slightly, allowing you to see the details of his face. 

You weren’t sure who leaned in first, but the next thing you knew you were kissing him. Minho cupped your face with both hands and pressed his tongue against the seam of your lips, silently begging you to open your mouth. You did, gasping when he got impatient and nipped at your bottom lip.  

You took the initiative this time and rolled on top of him, working your hands under his t-shirt to feel him up. 

“Missed this,” Minho sighed, “missed you.”

“It’s only been like three days!” 

“Way too long, if you ask me.”

You rolled your eyes but let the comments fuel your ego anyway.

He matched your pace and dropped his hands from your face to let them roam your body. It didn’t take long for them to find your tits, fingers brushing over your nipples underneath the fabric of your shirt. You rolled your hips against his, already able to feel that he was half hard through his sweats.

Minho groaned and broke away from kissing you to catch his breath, tilting his head back and swallowing hard. His hips stuttered underneath you, encouraging you to keep going. You took over and began kissing your way down his neck. 

“Do you have a condom?” you asked breathlessly

You knew you were acting desperate but it’s because you were desperate. You were aching for him and your panties were beginning to feel uncomfortably sticky. 

“Are you sure?” Minho asked, not answering your question. 

“Yes, fuck, where are they?”

He propped himself up on his elbows and nodded down at his pocket. “I still have a few in my wallet.”

You sat up a little and brought one of your hands down to his pants, brushing your palm over his erection before fumbling for his wallet in his pocket. 

“You’re a menace,” he hissed as he kicked his head back. 

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

You retrieved a condom and slid the wallet back into his pocket, tearing the foil wrapper open while you tried to get his pants off at the same time. 

“Need help?”

“No, I got it,” you muttered.

You were able to get Minho’s pants down far enough to get his dick out and put the condom on him before pushing your own pajama shorts and panties to the side so you could ride him without having to take them all the way off. 

“Wait, I haven’t even fingered you or anything,” Minho interjected, putting a hand on your stomach to stop you from lowering yourself onto him. “It’ll hurt.”

“We don’t really have a lot of time,” you argued back, “I’m really wet already. You don’t need to.”

“Bullshit,” he countered in disbelief. 

You were starting to get annoyed. Why wouldn’t he just fuck you like you wanted? You could tell Minho was getting frustrated as well, confused as to why you were rushing into it.

“At least let me rub your clit a little first?” he pleaded. 

You wanted to tell him that it really was fine, that you’d just need a couple of extra seconds to adjust to his size, but he was already running a thumb over your pussy, feeling around for the spot that would make your knees buckle.  

“F-fuck,” you whispered when he found it, arching just slightly to press yourself into him further.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Minho asked, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. 

You couldn’t even deny it. “Yes.”

“Still gotta be quiet, though,” he reminded you, “don’t want to let those folks down the way know what we’re up to, huh?”

You nodded in agreement even though you had completely forgotten about the people having a bonfire on the beach. They were likely too far away to see the two of you in the dark, but you knew sound carried so you would still have to be careful. 

“Can you put it in now? Just want to feel you.” You threw in a pout at the end just for good measure, hoping that would be enough to get you what you wanted. 

Minho nodded and put a hand on either of your hips to help you. You sighed in relief as you sank down on him, finally feeling full. You were able to take him all at once but you did need more time to adjust to having him inside of you, to which Minho cockily mouthed I told you so at you.

Once the discomfort ebbed away you leaned down and pressed your chest to his, resting your head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around you instinctively as you started rocking yourself on his cock, trembling at just how deep he could get at this angle. 

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you mumbled. 

He carded a hand through your hair and cocked his head to the side. “What, having sex on the beach?”

“Mhm.”

“It’s a first for me too,” Minho admitted. 

“Better make it memorable then, right?”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

[georgiapeach30513]

Jen, I agree with you on the most recent pics.

Sidenote: I think some fans project the daddy vibes idea a little too much for my liking. No offense to other fans but I’ve always hated that trope. Maybe it’s because I have a very strong and positive real father figure in my life and the idea of “daddy/dom” creeps me out more than anything. Dad = father and old man with slight beer belly yelling at the TV and being hard of hearing but will always be there for you. And watches the same movie 15 times but forgets all the actors names or calls them by a character he watched once. Meets your friends but calls them by the wrong name but is always happy to hear how you’re doing. That’s what I think of when I hear Daddy 🙈

But to each their own.

And Chris at the White House is giving “I know I’m outta my element and I’m kinda freaking out but I’m trying to keep my cool” vibes. And that’s ok!

And then later on…”wow I’m bored but I’m being televised so I need to act like I’m paying attention” let me fidget and play around with my feet to focus on something 😆

To each their own for sure. I have fun with the Daddy vibe, but I have never actually called a man daddy, well, minus my actual father. Our dads sound a lot alike 😂

So you and I were on the same page yesterday, I wasn’t getting dominate vibes at all.

[domdannyandrews]

letters to nate

danny passes the time and anxiety by writing letters to his boyfriend while he's locked in a cell

mentions: @dom-i-nate @daisyblossomsub @switchingolliesmythe @switchreggie @noah-andrews

11.16.23

It's only been eight hours since you were taken, Ares. This might be a little pathetic of me, but I miss you already. Daisy and I both do. I'm incredibly aware that my experience is nothing compared to what you and Ollie are going through, but this feels like torture. I can't talk to you, touch you, kiss you - we haven't even been official for a month and I already feel like you're such a part of me that I can't be whole unless I know you're all right.

Which, I know is intense. I know I can be intense when it comes to how I feel about people. I've had a lot of self-control practice with Daisy, so I can tone all this down if I'm too much at any time. I know you've been through hell, and having a overenthusiastic golden retriever of a boyfriend might be a lot sometimes. You just have to let me know when I'm being too overwhelming.

Only exception is when you come back. I think I'm allowed to be a little overwhelming then. (Daisy just read this over my shoulder and laughed. Not sure if I should be insulted or not. I pinched her ass either way.)

71 hours.

11.17.23

Day 2. At least I got to see you for a little while today. I wanted to punch that fucking guard that made me leave you. And the one who put those marks on your beautiful body. As stupid as it would be, and I know it would be. I'm well aware of the consequences I would suffer - but none of that matters when it's you being hurt. Or Daisy, or Ollie, Noah, Reggie - you get the idea.

I need to stop thinking about it so I don't punch something. I went to the gym for a while after, wailed on the bag. My shoulders are killing me from how hard I went. I swear I wrapped my hands, but I guess my rage was stronger than wrap. Daisy gave me hell for coming back with a couple split knuckles. I honestly didn't even notice until she mentioned it. Blind rage can be fun like that.

All this to say - there's no limit I can think of to how I would go to bat for you, baby.

I gotta cut this short - it's late, and I would give anything to have you in my bed between our girl and me.

39 hours.

11.18.23

Day 3. Daisy had to hold me back while we were forced to watch that damn auction. You looked worse than yesterday. And Ollie - Daisy had to physically block me from running to him when I heard him scream for you. Neither of you are ever going back there. Not for one of these stupid trips, and definitely not for real. I don't care if I have to find a way to smuggle us all to some commune beyond the system's reach. It's not happening.

Speaking of - what are you looking to do after we get out of here? I always thought I would wind up running my dad's business, but when he passed away, I had to pivot. I couldn't do that and come here. His old supervisors have taken over, and while I'm cool with being part of the big decisions, I don't think I want to run it. I was thinking of trying to become a vet. I've always loved animals. It would be hard work, but I think it would be worth it to try. and the good thing about that is we don't have to be anywhere in particular. So if there's somewhere you want to go, or Daisy or (hopefully) Ollie, we can plan around that - because right now I can't see a future where you're not in it with me.

18 hours.

11.19.23

You'll be back in an hour. 60 minutes, and I can hold you again. Daisy and I have been losing our minds - but she's got everything set. I helped, I swear. I did the heavy lifting like laundry and all that.

Words can't describe how badly I need you back in my arms. How I need to see you and Daisy together, you and Ollie, to know this is real and not some dream. I know I'm jumping the gun, nothing is set in stone, but in my gut, this feels right, Nate. I'm not naive enough to think there won't be roadblocks or hard times. I just know this is worth it. We're worth it.

It hasn't even been half a year and I know I was meant to find you. There's no other explanation for how we just click. You're the reality check when I get too far ahead of myself. The brute strength when I can't summon my own. And I can't think of anything that would make me change my mind about you.

47 minutes.

This is crazy. It's sudden and wonderful and scary. I have to say this though, before I absolutely lose my mind. There's no pressure to say it back, because I want you to be sure if you ever say the words to me. But you need to know this.

I love you, Nate Mantle.

23 minutes.

See you soon, baby.

[darcydarlingdabbles]

At Valentine’s Day~ Part 17 -  I Do

RadioApple🩷Human Au/Age Gap🩷Top!Dom!Alastor

🩷Divorced Dad!Lucifer🩷Explicit

White lace, a smile, a hand held tight, A moment perfect, a love so right. One word to bind, one love so true, For all our days, I do, I do, I do. 

🩷🩷🩷

❣️Ao3❣️Original Fics (1 Year Free)❣️Tumblr❣️

Lucifer's fingers curled around the wrought-iron balcony railing, the metal cool against his palms.

Below, a sea of red, white, and pink blossoms swayed in the gentle breeze, dotting the sprawling gardens of Morningstar Mansion. The scent of roses wafted up, mingling with the crisp autumn air.

He watched as staff members scurried about like industrious ants, their voices a distant hum. Rosie barked orders, her clipboard a shield against the chaos.

"Mr. Morningstar?" A timid voice called from behind him. "We need your approval on the final seating arrangement."

Lucifer turned, forcing a warm smile. "Of course. Just…give me a moment, please."

As the coordinator retreated, Lucifer's gaze drifted back to the gardens.

The gazebo stood proudly at its heart, a vision of twinkling fairy lights and billowing silk drapery. His throat tightened.

Charlie was getting married today. His little girl.

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. The sweet fragrance of flowers mingled with the earthy scent of fresh-cut grass, grounding him in the present.

"Dad?" Charlie's voice, bright as ever, cut through his reverie. "Are you hiding up here?"

Lucifer turned, his heart swelling at the sight of his daughter. Her blonde hair was already styled, cascading over her shoulders in soft waves.

"Just…taking it all in, Char-Char," he managed, his voice thick with emotion.

Charlie's eyes softened. She crossed the balcony, enveloping him in a warm hug. "It's a lot, isn't it?"

"You have no idea." Lucifer chuckled, the sound slightly watery.

"Are you okay?" Charlie pulled back, searching his face. "You're not having second thoughts about walking me down the aisle, are you?"

"No, no," Lucifer assured her quickly. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. It's just…"

"Just what, Dad?"

Lucifer sighed, running a hand through his slightly disheveled hair. "I keep thinking about how fast time has flown. It feels like yesterday you were learning to walk, and now…"

"And now I'm getting married. But I'll always be your little girl, you know that, right?" Charlie squeezed his hand.

"I know, sweetie.” Lucifer nodded, swallowing hard. “I'm just being a sentimental old fool."

"You're allowed," Charlie grinned, her enthusiasm infectious. "It's my wedding day, after all!"

Lucifer laughed, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders. And it's going to be perfect, Charlie. I promise."

As they turned to head back inside, Lucifer cast one last glance at the gardens below.

The gazebo stood waiting, a symbol of new beginnings. And for once, the ache in his chest felt more like pride than loss.

Inside the mansion, Alastor stood before an ornate mirror, his reflection a study in scarlet.

The perfectly tailored suit hugged his lean frame, the rich color a stark contrast to his dark skin. He reached for his cufflinks, willing his hands to remain steady.

"Damn," he muttered, fumbling with the delicate silver pieces. "Get it together."

Alastor's eyes met his own gaze in the mirror, noting the slight tension in his jaw. He took a deep breath, allowing a hint of vulnerability to show in the privacy of the room.

"It's just a wedding," he told his reflection, his usual smooth confidence wavering slightly. "Charlie's wedding. Nothing to be nervous about."

But as he finished with the cufflinks, Alastor couldn't help but wonder if his anxiety stemmed from more than just the day's events.

His thoughts drifted to Lucifer, to the weight of what this day meant for him.

Alastor's fingers lingered on his tie, smoothing imaginary wrinkles. His reflection stared back, composed as ever, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something deeper.

He exhaled slowly, centering himself.

"Charlie's happiness," he murmured, his rich voice barely audible. "That's what matters today. No distractions. No tension."

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.

The door opened, and Lucifer stepped in, a vision in classic black. Alastor's breath caught imperceptibly as their eyes met in the mirror.

"Well, don't you clean up nicely," Alastor quipped, his signature smirk sliding into place.

Lucifer chuckled, moving closer. "I could say the same for you. Red's always been your color."

Alastor turned, facing Lucifer directly.

The blonde's hair was slightly tousled, and Alastor resisted the urge to smooth it.

Instead, he focused on the red rose adorning Lucifer's lapel, a vibrant splash of color against the dark suit.

Without thinking, Alastor reached out, adjusting Lucifer's already perfect tie. His fingers brushed against Lucifer's chest, lingering a moment too long.

Lucifer's golden eyes softened. He leaned into Alastor's touch, savoring the brief moment of connection.

"Are you ready?" Lucifer asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Alastor's lips curled into a smirk, but his eyes remained gentle. "Are you?" he countered, raising an eyebrow.

The tension between them shifted, morphing into something warmer, more intimate. Lucifer chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Touché."

Alastor exhaled slowly, allowing his carefully maintained composure to slip just a fraction.

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to Lucifer's temple.

"Let's get through today," Alastor murmured against Lucifer's skin, his breath stirring a few errant strands of golden hair.

Lucifer closed his eyes, drinking in the moment.

His heart raced, anticipation for the day ahead and the ever-present spark that Alastor ignited within him.

"Together?" Lucifer asked, his voice tinged with hope and a hint of vulnerability.

Alastor pulled back slightly, meeting Lucifer's gaze. His hazel eyes sparkled with affection and determination. "Always, darling.”

The gardens of Morningstar Mansion stretched before him, a sea of red, white, and pink blooms swaying gently in the evening breeze.

The setting sun painted the sky in warm hues of gold and amber, casting a magical glow over the assembled guests.

"It's beautiful," Lucifer murmured, his golden eyes scanning the crowd. "More than I could have imagined."

The soft swell of music filled the air, signaling the start of the ceremony.

Lucifer's heart quickened, pride and bittersweet nostalgia washing over him.

Cherri sauntered down the aisle, her vibrant pink hair a stark contrast to the elegant red dress she wore. Her hips swayed with each step, drawing eyes from the crowd.

As she passed the third row, she caught sight of a familiar face and couldn't resist.

"Hey there, hot stuff," Cherri purred, throwing a saucy wink that had its intended recipient blushing furiously.

Beside her, Lute's brow furrowed in concentration. "Left foot, right foot," she muttered under his breath, hergaze fixed firmly on the ground.

Lucifer watched as Alastor emerged from the mansion, and offered his arm to Emily.

"Look at him," Lucifer murmured to himself, unable to tear his gaze away from Alastor's tall, lean figure.

The scarlet suit hugged Alastor's frame perfectly, his dark curls neatly styled.

Emily, resplendent in a flowing pink gown, matched Alastor's grace step for step.

Almost time.

A wave of emotion threatened to overwhelm Lucifer, but he took a deep breath, channeling Alastor's earlier composure. "We've got this," he whispered to himself, ready to take his place in the procession and walk his daughter down the aisle.

As the pair reached the altar, Vaggie emerged from the mansion, her arm linked with Anthony's.

She held her head high, her long black hair cascading down her back in loose waves. The fitted white dress he wore accentuated her petite figure, and her single visible eye sparkled with determination.

"You know," Anthony whispered, a grin playing on his lips, "I bet Charlie's gonna faint when she sees you."

"Shut up," Vaggie's composed expression cracked, her eye rolling skyward. "I swear, if you make me laugh right now…"

"What? It'd be memorable," Anthony teased, his grin widening.

Vaggie bit her lip, torn between exasperation and amusement.

"Just get me to the altar in one piece, okay?" she murmured, giving his arm a squeeze.

Anthony's expression softened. "You got it, toots. Charlie's one lucky girl."

The music shifted, a gentle swell of strings filling the air. Lucifer's breath caught in his throat, his heart hammering against his ribs.

The moment he'd been anticipating—and dreading—had finally arrived.

The mansion doors swung open, and Lucifer's world seemed to stop.

There, framed in the golden light of the setting sun, stood Charlie. His little girl, now a radiant bride.

Charlie stepped forward, her movements graceful and assured.

The white lace suit she wore was a masterpiece, tailored to fit her perfectly with elegance and sophistication.

It was modern, yet timeless—perfectly suited to Charlie's vibrant personality.

As she drew closer, Lucifer's breath caught in his throat.

The intricate lace pattern, the delicate beadwork along the lapels—he recognized it instantly.

Lucifer's heart swelled with pride and love.

The suit was a perfect blend of old and new, just like Charlie herself.

As Charlie reached him, Lucifer noticed other details that took his breath away. Her blonde hair, so like his own, was styled in soft waves that framed her face.

A delicate tiara, adorned with tiny diamonds and rubies, nestled atop her head—a Morningstar family heirloom.

"You look…" Lucifer began, struggling to find words adequate enough. "Absolutely stunning, Charlie."

Charlie's smile widened, a hint of her usual exuberance breaking through her composure. "Thanks, Dad," she said, reaching out to straighten his bowtie. "You clean up pretty well yourself."

Lucifer chuckled, the sound slightly watery.

He offered his arm, and Charlie took it, her touch warm and reassuring.

As they prepared to walk down the aisle, Lucifer was struck by the perfect balance Charlie had achieved.

"Ready?" Charlie asked, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

Lucifer took a deep breath, drinking in the sight of his daughter one last time before they began their walk.

The way the lace shimmered in the fading sunlight, the subtle apple blossom perfume that was so uniquely Charlie, the love and joy radiating from her very being—he committed it all to memory.

"Ready," he replied, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside him.

"I'm so proud of you," he breathed, his words meant for her ears alone.

As they took their first step down the aisle, Lucifer was acutely aware of every eye in the garden turning towards them.

The weight of their gazes should have been overwhelming, but he found he couldn't look away from Charlie.

Her radiance outshone everything else.

With each step, memories flooded through him—Charlie's first words, her infectious laughter, the way she'd always seen the best in everyone.

Now here she was, walking towards her own happily ever after.

At least he’d done one thing right.

"Dad," Charlie whispered, squeezing his hand. "You're crying."

Lucifer blinked, not bothering to wipe them away. "Happy tears, sweetheart. Just happy tears."

As they reached the altar, Lucifer's gaze shifted to Vaggie. The transformation that came over her face was breathtaking. Her usual sharp edges softened, melting away like snow in spring.

Her eyes, usually so guarded, now shone with pure, unadulterated love as they locked onto Charlie.

"You ready?" Lucifer asked softly, giving Charlie's hand a final squeeze.

Charlie beamed up at him, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "More than ever," she replied, her voice steady and sure.

Lucifer leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Charlie's forehead. The scent of her jasmine perfume enveloped him, a bittersweet reminder of how quickly she'd grown up. He lingered for just a moment, savoring the feel of her silky hair against his cheek.

"I love you, Char-Char," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Charlie's arms wrapped around him in a fierce hug. "I love you too, Dad," she murmured.

As Lucifer stepped back, his heart swelled.

Charlie stood tall, radiating confidence and joy. This was her moment, her choice, her home.

He took his place on the front row, eager to watch Charlie get her happily ever after.

Alastor's keen gaze taking in every detail. Anthony, resplendent in a perfectly tailored suit, cleared his throat dramatically.

With a flourish that would make any ringmaster proud, he raised his arms.

"Alright, folks," Anthony's voice rang out, "let's get these two beautiful disasters married!"

A ripple of laughter swept through the gathered guests.

Alastor felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward, charmed despite himself by Anthony's theatrical flair.

The atmosphere crackled with warmth and anticipation, love hanging thick in the air like the perfume of a thousand roses.

As Anthony continued his heartfelt, if slightly irreverent, opening, Alastor allowed himself a moment of reflection.

The joy radiating from Charlie and Vaggie was palpable, a reminder of the beauty that could bloom even in the most unlikely of places.

His gaze drifted to Lucifer, noting the play of emotions across his face—pride, love, and just a hint of melancholy.

Vaggie stepped forward, her eyes locked on Charlie.

The usual sharpness in her gaze had melted into something softer, more vulnerable. She took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly as she unfolded a piece of paper.

"Charlie," Vaggie began, her voice steady despite the emotion threading through it. "You're loud. You're too happy. And you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

A collective chuckle rippled through the crowd, but Vaggie wasn't finished.

Her lips curved into a tender smirk as she continued, "You drive me crazy in all the best ways. Your optimism infuriates me, but it's also what I love most about you. You see the good in everyone, even when I'm determined to see the worst. You're my balance, my light, my home."

Charlie's eyes welled with tears, her smile so bright it rivaled the sun.

As Vaggie finished, Charlie reached out, squeezing her hands tightly.

When it was Charlie's turn, she didn't need any paper.

Her eyes shone with unshed tears as she gazed at Vaggie, her voice filled with love and laughter. "

Vaggie, my grumpy guardian angel," she began, eliciting another wave of chuckles from the audience. "I promise to always see the good in you, even when you're grumpy about it. I vow to be your sunshine on the cloudiest days, to hold your hand through every storm, and to love you fiercely, completely, and eternally."

Charlie paused, her expression softening.

"You ground me, you protect me, and you make me want to be the best version of myself. I promise to always fight for us, to choose you every day, and to never stop trying to make you smile."

As Charlie finished, Vaggie's usually stoic demeanor cracked, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

The two women stood there, lost in each other's eyes

Emily's heart raced as she stepped forward, the weight of the rings feeling impossibly heavy in her trembling hands. The cool metal pressed against her sweaty palms as she focused intently on the short distance between herself and Anthony.

Anthony's eyes twinkled with mischief as he watched her approach. "Steady there, butterfingers," he whispered, just loud enough for Emily to hear.

Emily's eyes widened in panic. "Anthony, don't—" she hissed, her concentration breaking for a split second.

In that moment, her fingers fumbled, and the rings slipped from her grasp. And the crowd gasped.

But before anyone could react further, Alastor gracefully stepped forward. He plucked both rings from the air, his long fingers closing around them securely.

Anthony's playful glare cut through the tension. "You had one job," he quipped, his tone light despite the near-disaster.

Lucifer felt his breath catch, watching Alastor's composed intervention.

The way Alastor's eyes sparkled with amusement behind his glasses, the slight quirk of his lips—it all screamed effortless control.

Alastor turned, presenting the rings to Anthony with a slight bow.

"Smooth as ever," Lucifer murmured, unable to keep the admiration from his voice.

He caught Alastor's eye, sharing a private smile that felt electric, even amidst the crowded ceremony.

Anthony accepted the rings with a flourish. "And that, folks, is why we keep him around," he announced to the chuckling guests, diffusing any remaining tension.

Lucifer's chest swelled with emotion as Anthony's demeanor shifted. The usual playful glint in his eyes softened, replaced by a depth of sincerity.

The garden fell silent, hanging on Anthony's every word.

"Marriage isn't about being perfect," Anthony began, his voice carrying across the hushed crowd. "It's about being imperfect together. About choosing each other, even when it's hard."

Lucifer's gaze drifted to Charlie, her eyes shining with unshed tears. His little girl, all grown up. A bittersweet ache bloomed in his chest as Anthony continued.

"Charlie, Vaggie, you've already made that choice a hundred times. Today, you just make it official."

Anthony turned to Vaggie, a hint of his usual mischief returning. "Do you, Vaggie, take Charlie to be your utterly ridiculous wife?"

Vaggie's trademark smirk played at her lips, but Lucifer saw the tenderness in her eyes as she gazed at Charlie.

"Obviously," she replied, her voice thick with emotion.

Anthony turned to Charlie, his grin softening as he met her eager gaze. "Charlie, do you take Vaggie to be your grumpy, sarcastic, but ridiculously devoted wife?"

Charlie's face lit up, her smile as radiant as the sun itself. "Forever and always," she beamed, her voice brimming with joy and certainty.

Lucifer's heart swelled with pride, seeing the depth of love shining in his daughter's eyes.

Anthony paused, savoring the moment. "Then by the power vested in me—" he began, his dramatic flair returning full force. He held the silence, building anticipation until the air practically crackled with excitement.

"—and by the sheer amount of effort it took to plan this damn wedding—" Anthony continued, eliciting a ripple of laughter from the crowd. "You may now kiss your bride."

The words had barely left Anthony's lips before Charlie launched herself at Vaggie, enthusiasm nearly knocking them both off balance.

Vaggie steadied them, her usual composure melting into a smile of pure adoration.

The garden erupted into cheers, a joyous cacophony that matched the fireworks Lucifer felt exploding in his chest.

He laughed, tears finally spilling over as he watched his daughter, radiant and in love, begin this new chapter of her life.

The roar of applause faded into the soft strains of a string quartet, the melody weaving through the twilight air like gossamer threads.

Lucifer blinked, his vision blurring as he watched Charlie and Vaggie sway together, lost in their own world.

Vaggie’s laughter rang out, clear and bright, as Charlie dipped her dramatically. Their foreheads touched, matching grins spreading across their faces.

❣️Ao3❣️Original Fics (1 Year Free)❣️Tumblr❣️

[choibeomgyusfavoritegirl]

My kpop x reader fanfiction hot takes

Because complaining is fun ☺️

This will all be up for discussion in the comments of course if you would like to share your own hot takes/opinions, if you'd like to debate whether one of my takes are valid or not, etc. - and if you want to be anonymous and not comment, feel free to send an anonymous message to me where I would also like you to mention if you are okay with me posting it, responding to you.

🖤💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤💜

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

1• I think it's a clear sign of bad writing "skills" when you can't give the 'reader' or 'y/n' a personality that isn't your own. Like can we actually get creative here?? Or are you just trying to soft launch an x author ff...

2• If you're gonna be specific about certain things about the 'reader' (like afab/amab, race, pronouns, weight, hair, eyes, skin, etc.), PUHLEASE specify it thoroughly IN THE BEGINNING at the TOP of the works in a warning section or something, not at the end, with the #s, AT. THE. TOP.

3• This might be a really controversial take but.. I think reblogging your own work like 10+ times (it's cool when it's 5 or less times btw, I get we need more traction to our works) is so annoying and almost desperate looking? Especially when it's just a teaser? Idk..

4• Absolutely BEGGING people to comment and reblog. I personally don't find it that necessary (but that's me obviously) and I think even a like or an anonymous message telling me they liked my fic or something would suffice for me.. Like unless this is your job and you rely on that in some way, then begging for comments and reblogs looks desperate, awkward and a little embarrassing...

5• This is specifically for smut fics btw, mdnr (minors do not read)

This sort of goes with #2 but I hate it when people don't even slightly try to mention if there are sub/dom dynamics. And half of the time, if they do, they don't say who is what. Like I personally like to read sub!idol, dom!reader fics. And I can't tell if that's what I'm actually about to read if you don't mention it (once again) in the beginning before the fic and not at the end in the #s. Also, I will NOT let the people who just say "sub/dom dynamics" slide because that's just as bad. Unless they're saying "no sub/dom dynamics", which I have no problem with and that also needs to be mentioned.

6• This is also about smut fics, mdnr.

Noncon is r@pe ‼️ and I hate noncon‼️

7• this ALSO goes with #2 a bit with the point of properly warning your fics before the actual fic is to be read. Not adding wêēd and/or alcohol to your warnings is shitty and weird.

8• Yeah I'm still going on about the tagging thing because I cannot stress this enough. In smut fics, FUCKING PROPERLY TAG IT. I just read a fic that only had "masterbation, profanity" in the warnings and that's it.. and you wanna know what it ACTUALLY was? Borderline sexual harassment. He (the vile character of an idol they had created) forced the reader to watch p0rn that was quite frankly disgusting. I'm tryna give them a redemption point if it's an old fic but I will probably block them if I see that it's within the past year and a half or so. Edit: IT WAS LITERALLY POSTED YESTERDAY WHAT THE FUCK.

9• mdnr ‼️

So that's it for now.

if you mention positions in the tags (top/bottom), you don't get to not mention dynamics (dom/sub) just because you think it's the same thing. They are NOT the same thing. Like I said, (for example) being a top is not the same thing as being a dom. If you are a top, that means that your literal physical position is at the top. It does NOT mean that you are also definitely a dom (which is based on the "power" you have over the other person or lack thereof). You can be a top and a sub, and you can be a bottom and a dom. I'm sick of seeing people not understand the basics of the terms THEY USE.

I may add more to this whenever I think of something but my wrist and head hurts because of the position I'm sitting in so I'm clocking out now.

As mentioned in the beginning, this is all up for debate in the comments or anonymous asks/messages, but please do not dm me from this post.

Have a great day y'all 💜🖤

[mvrders-are-okay]

— ( SWEET AS APPLE . . . ! )

— [ venti × male reader ]

— [ content warnings: riding, handjob, blowjob – reader receiving – venti being a dom, you being sub. praising. he calls you puppy. edging. venti being the slut he is. semi ( ? ) public sex, you both fuck in angel’s share, how wild. yandere-ish reader. idk. not beta read. ]

— ( NOTES . . . ! )

i never thought there comes a day i would write for him. as you all know, i wanted to gatekeep him because he is my wife, and you all don’t deserve him – because he is mine. oh, but here we are.

you tried to keep your cool as venti continued his small show in front of the others. you sit on one of the stools in front of the bar, where the red-haired owner of the tavern stood, wiping glasses, though you can also see the judgement in his eyes as he watched how your lover . . . sensually moves his body.

the red-haired man, diluc, had allowed venti to get as many drinks as he wants, for you told him you’d pay for it, and all the other tabs your lover hadn’t paid yet from yesterday, last week, last month, last year . . . .

you have no idea if venti’s drunk. with his personality, you sometimes have a hard time to discern if he is drunk or is just playful.

“i never knew he could be like this,” said diluc, glancing over at you before bending down to reach something from behind the bar.

“in the thousands of years we’ve been together, neither have i,” you replied, taking a sip of your own drink.

well, you mean, he could, but only with you. he only tolerated salacious touches from you, leering gazes from you . . . but now, he’s initiating them – though, not with you, but the others.

he was giggly. he bent over a table – his elbows propped up on it – with an arch of his back, his palm under his chin, his ass swaying lightly in the air, as he listened to one of the adventurers’ tales of their travels.

it didn’t finish with that. when you thought he was finally going to approach you, he made a beeline towards the stairs and headed up, and he had one of the drunkards following him. though before he clearly disappeared out of your sight, you could’ve sworn he sent a smirk your way.

anxiety made itself known into the pit of your stomach as you downed your drink in one go, the burn of the liquor burning bitterly at the back of your throat – and that doesn’t happen often.

“ragnvindr,” you said, addressing the man who’s watching your expression. “you wouldn’t mind if i . . .”

“not at all.” you stood up then, not acknowledging the gentle bow of diluc’s head towards you.

you swallowed hard as you headed to the narrow spiral stairs. you could clearly hear venti’s voice, he was giggling.

as you reached the top, you found him sitting on one of the tables, the drunkard was between his legs. they weren’t kissing, but the man had his . . . filthy hands on your lover’s thighs, running them up and down, feeling his plush flesh, when it should’ve been you, and only you.

it was strange how there weren’t other patrons, it was only the three of you here.

venti was leaned back, his hands behind him, propped on the table to support himself. how could he accept this man’s touches? has – has he grown tired of you? over the course of thousands of years of the two of you being together, has he finally got enough of you?

your bard met your gaze with half-lidded eyes, and he sent a small, seemingly innocent smile towards you, as if saying . . . what are you gonna do, hm?

at once, you had already grabbed the man’s cuff, and disappeared with him, leaving only teal wisps and small white feathers that dissipated into thin air. venti didn’t flinch, he only sighed, swinging his legs back and forth ( he was short enough to not reach the ground ).

“you’re such bad, bad boy,” venti hummed. you were breathing heavily in anticipation and trepidation. you were going to be punished. it’s both a good and bad news. he was looking down at you – he was still sitting on the table, and he forced you to sit on a chair. his now shoeless feet running up and down your chest.

“he – he was too close,” you all but whined. his foot, covered in his stockings, were caressing your clothed abdomen, appreciating the hardness of it. it shows how strong you are. “i don’t want him near you . . . o-or anyone, for that matter . . .”

“you’re too possessive of me,” giggled venti, hopping off the table to be able to be closer to you. he tilted his head down at you, scrutinizing your form. when you got back the way you disappeared, you were covered in red. the blood was now drying on your cheek, and your clothes reek of flesh and rust. “and to think i have the freedom to do whatever i want.”

“y-you are free!” you blurted. “but – but h-he’s — y-you’re mine! p-please —”

“quiet,” he spoke, leaning down to your face as he placed a finger in front of your mouth. “don’t be scared. i’m not mad.”

relief flooded through your veins. “but why’d you do it?” you asked, gazing up at him like a puppy.

“hm, to get a reaction out of you, what else? ehe, you’re so cute.” he pinched your cheeks affectionately. he hummed as he planted his soft, plush lips against yours. “i love you,” he mumbled before shoving his tongue down your throat.

you melted in the warmth of his mouth on yours. you were turned into a puddle of a lovesick mess, your skin felt hot – and it didn’t help that his nimble fingers were on your crotch now, fondling and gripping.

he swallowed your startled moan when he slipped his hand inside, lazily stroking your painfully hard cock. precum caught on to his thumb, and he used it to easily glide against your tip, to which you shivered in pleasure.

“you’re so big,” he commented, biting at his lower lip as he gazed into your lust-blown eyes. this isn’t the first time he’s touched it, nor held it, nor seen it, but he just can’t get used to it; how good it feels as it stretches him out, how quickly it can get him to blabber nonsensical things into your ears, how just awfully long and thick it is that it can bulge in his belly.

you avoided his gaze, suddenly shy of his attention.

“ah-ah,” he tutted, holding your chin with his fingers so you could face him again. “you look at me or don’t look at me at all.”

“s-sorry . . .” ah – you’re so close to crying! he can tell you were close, by the way your bottom lip was quivering. “c-can i — ?”

he stopped. he fucking stopped. your building orgasm was shattered. how cruel.

a tear escaped your eye, and he cooed. “aww, don’t cry.” and then, he has rid of your trousers, and got on his knees in front of you. “because you’ve been such a good boy, and has been nothing but a loyal puppy to me, i’ll give you a reward.” what comes after that was his small mouth engulfing your thick head. a cry escaped you, he didn’t shush you nor reminded you that are many, many people downstairs – he just stared up at you with wide doe eyes.

your thighs shook as he took you down his throat suddenly. he fondled with your balls, making it harder for you to contain your noises. he has no gag reflex, which made it easier for him to deepthroat you every time he bobbed his head back and forth.

his mouth feels fucking heavenly. his beret was suddenly thrown off to the ground so that you can grip at his ombre hair. he hummed as you guided his head at the pace you wanted. through it all, venti just stared at you, loving the way he can fuck up your mind with his skillful mouth.

“‘m – ‘m gonna cum . . .” you said, your mouth hanging open as you panted.

venti hollowed his cheeks in reply. and you cum.

there was an obvious struggle as he tried to swallow all of it. he succeeded. he pulled away from your now limp and spent cock. he was panting, too, darting his tongue out to lick at the remaining cum in his lips.

“t-thank you . . .” you said, drained of everything you got.

“we aren’t done yet. i told you i was rewarding you, right?”

he tugged off his shorts, his small cock standing proud, his small tip flushed pink. he teasingly wiggled it in front of your face as he swayed his hips teasingly, giggling all the while.

he plopped down on your lap then. “no need for prep.” he guided your painfully hard cock, again, to his hole. he sank down with no resistance, and he lets out a sigh. wasting no time, he began bouncing.

the sound of your grunts and his breathy moans and the skin of his ass and your thighs slapping were the only things heard, well, aside from the continuous chatter downstairs – there was a flute being played, then a cacophony of cheers is what followed.

you hugged his petite waist tightly, nibbling on the skin of his neck, he happily obliged by tilting his head back, his eyes shut closed in pleasure. “so big – ah —”

venti’s pace suddenly quickened, he now dropped harsher. you helped him by thrusting up to meet him, making him cry out – but it still didn’t drown out the joyous activities of the drunkards from downstairs.

“so good f’me . . .” venti babbled, eyes rolling back. you weren’t too far behind.

you both didn’t last long, too pent up. venti cums first, coating your bloodied chest white with long spurts. “fuck!” the anemo archon screamed out as he felt you fill him to the brim. he will never get tired of this – never. ah, if only he can get pregnant . . . this will surely take.

he kissed you, passionately. and then, with your cock still buried in his belly, he whispered some words of reassurance that he would never replace you, that he is sorry for worrying you. if the two of you went on for a round two, well, that’s just between the both of you . . .

. . . and the red-haired man who has unfortunately walked in on a bad timing in hopes of giving back venti’s beret that had fallen off the second floor when you tossed it off, he ran back downstairs, pink-faced.

i beg to please do not plagiarize my works—it’s no fun.

© mvrders-are-okay [ 2024 ]