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lustspren · 21 hours ago

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IMPURITIES EP. 3 | The Poison

Male reader x Kazuha

word count: 11.8k

tags: teasing (a lot), brat zuha with daddy kink is always the best zuha

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Thank goodness the tour was over, and you hadn't died in the process.

To your surprise, all the girls behaved like civilized and responsible people during the remaining weeks. Even Kazuha, who sometimes took it upon herself to give you headaches, had stayed out of the way and hadn't caused any problems with her typical bratish behavior. Eunchae was almost never a thorn in your side; she was an angel 90% of the time. But you were still grateful that she hadn't let the other 10% win.

On the other hand, Chaewon had paid you occasional visits at night to sleep with you, without causing a fuss or being too annoying. Yunjin was very much in her element; she had spent all those days training her vocal skills and composing songs in her room. The one who was arguably giving you the hardest time was, ironically, the oldest of the five. Sakura wasn't lying when she said you'd won over a hungry Yokai, as she made you come to her room at least every other day so you could fuck her in every possible hole. Sometimes you weren't very willing, whether due to mental exhaustion or stress, but you preferred that to letting her become unbearable.

When you returned to Korea, the air was relieved knowing that everyone would be able to get a break. The next comeback cycle was approaching, but you would have two and a half weeks of vacation before then. Neither you nor the girls had travel plans during that time, so you were going to continue living together in the house for a while.

Because yes, you lived together in one house.

During the first year, it wasn't like that. They lived in their usual dorm, and you lived in your apartment ten minutes away. But starting at a certain point in 2023, when Antifragile had already been a global success, the company decided to invest in a big house on the outskirts of the city for the six of you to live there. The explanation had been that this would streamline the work process and cut logistics costs. Although you felt there were loopholes in that excuse.

The girls weren't entirely happy at first, and to be honest, neither were you. Just like you, they valued the privacy of a shared dormitory all to themselves, and by now living with you, they thought they'd be watched at all times. But luckily for them, you weren't a snitch or a weirdo. The solution you implemented was simple: the first floor for you, and the second for them. On your floor, you'd have everything you needed, and if you needed to go upstairs, you'd do so with full notice. That ended up convincing them.

A year later, complaints about daily living were few and far between. They argued more often with each other than they did with you. That wasn't your problem anymore, so you didn't interfere; you simply listened to the shouting from the comfort of your floor. Occasionally, you had to intervene from the stairs to get them to shut up, but generally speaking, you were comfortable living together.

Now, having to cook for five people was a real pain, but you were lucky that Yunjin loved cooking, and she often helped you when she wasn't busy with her own things. Waking them up was also a pain sometimes, since you couldn't get into their rooms using the traditional method. No, you had to blow up Chaewon's phone with calls, and often the idiot left it on vibrate, in which case you had to turn to Sakura to do the job.

But despite the problems, you could safely say that the best time of your life had begun thanks to that, and it had been the sowing of a harvest of memories of all kinds that you treasured in your heart. There was no way you would regret it. Not for a single second.

Even less so recently, when your relationship with three of the girls had taken on a completely new dimension that promised interesting things.

None of them had commented on it, but you knew what they were thinking. The tension was palpable. It was only a matter of time before you received something. Whether it was a visit to your room, a photo, a message, a glance. Anything. And you weren't crazy to think that: days ago, when you were still in the US, Chaewon had let you know that you would receive clues. That you shouldn't expect them to come directly and ask you explicitly and that you should also do your part. You didn't entirely know how you would do that, but in time your mind would open up.

That was another thing. You still weren't entirely sure how to feel about being... whatever you were to them now. It felt wrong. You certainly weren't a prude, and you were crazy about women—especially those women. But it didn't quite feel right. Maybe it was just a matter of time before you got used to it, and you honestly hoped so, because if you dared to waste this opportunity life had handed you on a silver platter, you'd never forgive yourself.

Still, it was a situation that had to be handled with caution, because it was extremely easy for it to spiral out of control. Whether it was due to unrespected boundaries or worse: unintentionally generated feelings. You were very careful about that, of course. But you couldn't control how any of the girls felt, and that made you anxious.

Chaewon was the one you were most careful with, because to be honest, you felt a lot of chemistry with her. A little too much, maybe. And consequently, your treatment of her was... slightly different. Not too different to avoid raising suspicions, but you cut short every little intimate moment you two had after fucking with the classic excuse that you had work to do.

Although if you thought about it, you'd already let her sleep with you more than once during the tour, and a couple of times you weren't even intimate...

You were going to play dumb, yeah.

Yunjin had been the first to desecrate—as far as you knew—the roof you lived under, just a day after you'd settled back there after arriving in Korea. It happened at night, when, after she'd showered and while the other girls were sleeping, she caught you watching Breaking Bad at two in the morning in the living room, wrapped in only a stupidly short towel that barely covered anything.

Aside from that, neither Chaewon nor Sakura made a move. But not for any specific reason; most likely they just didn't feel like it. They continued to behave normally.

But Kazuha was acting strange.

Spending so much time with her over the past year helped you notice the unusual patterns of behavior. Something didn't add up. Mostly, it was small details that led you to think that. Ways of greeting you in the morning, discreet glances for no apparent reason, sudden mood swings when you interacted with her, and even leaving out of nowhere while you were all chatting together. As if being around you made her nervous.

She knew something, you were sure.

They were girls, and they spent a lot of time together, so surely one of the three had told her about their experiences with you. Everything pointed to Sakura, since she was the one she spent the most time with during those days. That was dangerous. If Chaewon or Yunjin had told her, you knew they would have been subtle about it, not sharing too much information or details. But Kura was a different breed. That girl didn't mince words, and you feared she'd have given Kazuha a wealth of details about what you and her were up to. That included how you fucked, where, when, and you were sure she'd even given her details about how big your...

Yeah, bad business. Not only because she knew, which was already a problem. But because you feared retaliation.

Kazuha might have seemed like a chill, carefree girl, with a typical joking attitude. But behind that innocent mask, you knew she was hiding a malevolent being with a meticulous way of acting. She was just the kind of woman who could tell you the best joke in the world and two hours later sell you out to some drug cartel in exchange for an Overwatch skin. A somewhat exaggerated analogy, but one that fit perfectly with her deceitful nature.

Time soon proved you right.

That day you woke up early in the morning, as usual. Sunlight was beginning to bathe the interior patio, forcing you to open your eyes since it was right in front of you behind the glass wall. After rubbing your eyes and gathering your willpower, you got up from the sofa bed you were sleeping on and walked, with the cold wooden floor beneath your feet, to the bathroom to brush your face and brush your teeth.

After finishing your basic personal hygiene routine, you left the bathroom and turned up the air conditioning since you were freezing. Then you walked to the other side of the house. In the kitchen, you went to the far right of the counter behind the island and turned on the espresso machine to let it warm up. While waiting, you sat in a chair at the dining table to quickly check your email and social media once you were sure you didn't have anything important to do.

That time of day was your favorite. Peaceful. Silent. With nothing but the distant sound of birds perching in the nearby trees. In your profession, those moments were to be cherished for how rare they were, and you let absolutely nothing disturb you during them. Not while any of the brats...

Movement to your left, just at the bottom of the stairs.

"Good morning, manager-nim," Zuha said, passing behind you to go to the refrigerator. You followed her with your eyes, your brow furrowed in confusion but also in disbelief. She was wearing only a white T-shirt that barely covered her bottom, and she was barefoot.

"What the hell are you doing up at this hour, Nakamura?" was the first thing that escaped your mouth. "Especially you."

"What time is it?" Zuha asked, her hand on the refrigerator handle. You weren't surprised at how beautiful she still looked without makeup and just waking up.

"7 in the morning."

"Oh, my biological clock must have gotten messed up," she shrugged and opened the refrigerator door, disappearing behind it. Seconds later, she closed it, a small carton of strawberry milk in her other hand. "You don't mind a little morning company, do you?"

Your gaze fell as Kazuha leaned against the refrigerator and put one leg in front of the other, pressing her thighs together and barely revealing her crotch. You quickly looked away.

"I don't care," you admitted, shaking your head. You looked back down at your phone, but a few seconds later, you looked back at her. "Are you just going to stand there or what?"

"Does it bother you?"

You inhaled a deep breath and let it out with your eyes closed.

"No, Kazuha, it doesn't bother me."

"Great."

The ten minutes you usually let the espresso machine heat up had already passed, so you stood up and went to check if it was ready. Once you confirmed it, the next step was to grind the coffee beans, but you kept them in a cupboard right above the refrigerator. You made a move to get it, but Kazuha was in the way.

"Oh, do you need anything?" Zuha asked, sipping the strawberry milk carton through the straw.

"Yes, the coffee beans," you pointed. "Please move aside."

"I'll get it for you! Hold this for a second."

Zuha held the small carton against your chest for you to take and looked up at the cupboard, then stood on her tiptoes, raising her arms, and, consequently, pushing her shirt up enough so you could clearly see her ass and cheeky black panties.

"These here?" Zuha asked, taking the bag. She didn't seem to notice you were staring at her beautiful rear end, and if she did, she didn't care in the least.

"Uh... yeah."

Zuha took them and stood back on her heels. She then took the milk carton from you and handed you the coffee beans. Her expression indicated that she was completely pretending that what happened a second ago hadn't happened. The air inside the house was cold, it was impossible for her not to have noticed.

It was foul play, and at your distinct disadvantage, since you couldn't do the same.

"Thanks," you simply said, and tried to focus on your damn espresso, which was all you'd wanted since you woke up.

As you ground approximately 15 grams of coffee, Zuha disappeared from your peripheral vision. You heard her take steps behind you, and all you heard were her sipping on the straw. It was the typical moment when a lion played dumb seconds before snapping its jaws at its prey.

After grinding the coffee, you picked up the portafilter, washed it, and dried it thoroughly with a dry cloth before adding the ground coffee. Then you picked up the tamper and applied gentle pressure to level the coffee inside the filter. Finally, you prepared to slide the portafilter into the machine.

"Manager-nim, why is Chaewonie sleeping with you lately?" Zuha asked from behind you.

The question caught you off guard, and since your brain wasn't prepared to handle both tasks at the same time, you dropped the portafilter, creating a mess of ground coffee on the counter and the floor beneath your feet.

"Fucking shit!" you cursed, slamming the counter so hard that the side of your fist ached.

"Oh my god! I'm sorry!" Zuha said. Her shock didn't seem to be faked.

"It’s okay, it wasn't your fault."

Yes, it was. But you weren't going to tell her that.

With your teeth clenched in anger, you went to the left, toward the small utility room where you kept the cleaning supplies.

"Let me help you!" Zuha said, hopping off the counter she was sitting on just as you turned the doorknob.

Zuha reached you, and with her back to you, squeezed into the narrow space between you and the door. As she did so, she deliberately pushed her hips back and rubbed her ass against your bulge to enter the room. You froze, staring into space as she grabbed a dustpan and broom.

"Zuha, you don't need to..."

"Bullshit!" Zuha interrupted you, repeating the same process, only this time she stood still for a moment while her ass pressed against your bulge. She looked at you over her shoulder. "Let me help you, grump!"

Zuha stepped away and went to sweep up the coffee grounds you'd dropped, leaving you in a state of horniness that you suppressed as much as possible. But she played another damn trick. For some reason, she found it necessary to bend over to pick up who knows what damn thing from the floor, consequently giving you a glimpse of her panties, specifically, her slit from behind. She stayed in that position for a few seconds, making sure you saw as much of her cameltoe as possible before standing up.

"Nakamura, what the fuck are you doing?" you asked, feeling your cock harden beneath your boxers. You hid it with your left fist, gripping your forearm with your other hand.

"Huh?" Zuha turned to you, wiping the counter with a kitchen towel. "Helping you. Can't you see or what?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Then I have no idea what you're talking about, manager-nim," Zuha shook her head, shrugging.

Damn brat. Why the hell was she doing that? It was now certain that she knew everything. But why tease you like that? Was she resentful in some way? Or did she just like to play with her prey like cats do? It could very well have been a mix of both, which made it twice as terrifying since you didn't know how far she was going to take it before actually dropping the bombshell.

A damn mouse being stalked by a snake. Great.

"Forget it," you sighed, and went to help her with the mess you'd made because of her.

About five minutes later, the floor and counter were as clean as ever. Kazuha carried the broom and dustpan back to the utility room and came back with you as you repeated the same process with the coffee beans, her lower back resting on the edge of the counter to your left. Her gaze was attentive to everything you did, like a curious cat.

"Are you going to learn how to make espresso for the girls or what?" you asked as you started the extraction.

"No, it's just fun to watch," Zuha replied. "It's... relaxing."

"Sure," you nodded, looking up at her as you dusted off your hands. "Are you going to tell me the real reason you got up at this hour, or will you keep me guessing all day?"

"I already told you: my biological clock must have been messed up. I don't know."

You chuckled.

"If I hadn't known you for three years, maybe I'd believe you, Nakamura."

"Are you calling me a liar?" Kazuha raised her eyebrows.

"Yes."

"That's very rude of you, manager-nim," she crossed her arms and pouted. "But I think you're being a bit hypocritical."

"Oh yeah? And why?"

"Remember when I asked you in Chicago why Chaewonie hadn't woken up in her bed, and you told me it was because she had plans with Kura that night?" Zuha pushed back from the counter and faced you, staring into your eyes. "Guess what? Kura-chan said Chaewonie never went to her room that night. Who lied to me?"

Shit. She'd put you between a rock and a hard place. Kura was a damn snitch.

"She must have been playing a trick on you or something," you replied. "I'm pretty sure I saw them together that night."

"Hypocrite," Zuha snapped.

"I'm not lying to you, Nakamura."

"You are," Zuha took a step forward without taking her eyes off you, entering your personal bubble. "And the more you do it, the deeper you dig your own grave."

"Kazuha, I swear I don't know what you're talking about. She was..."

"You're fucking her too, manager-nim?" Zuha blurted out, leaving you hanging. "I know you did it with Sakura. She told me everything. So..." she closed the distance between your bodies, pressing hers against your side and her thigh against your crotch. Her shirt lifted again, and you caught a glimpse of her left buttock. "Are you going to tell me the truth, or are you going to make this more complicated for yourself?"

It took a tremendous amount of willpower not to touch her, as her toned body felt way too good against yours. Her hot breath against your neck didn't help either.

"So what if I did?" you asked, trying your best not to look at her as Kazuha rubbed her thigh between your legs. "Are you going to tell PD Nim everything or something?"

"No way. I'm not a snitch," Zuha retorted. "Come on, stop being a damn liar and speak."

As much as you wanted to, her damn thigh was being a severe distraction, keeping your thoughts from organizing. Kazuha knew it, and that's why, apart from her thigh, she reached down to grab your already hard cock and gently squeezed it to short-circuit you.

"Did the cat eat her tongue, manager-nim?" Zuha murmured near your ear, tightening her fingers around the outline of your cock through your sweatpants.

"Shit," you gasped, closing your eyes as you pressed your lips together. "Nakamura, stop playing..."

"I'm not playing," Zuha retorted, reaching inside your sweatpants and boxers for your cock. "You wish I was playing."

How easy it would be to lose your temper, grab her by the waist, and fuck her from behind against one of those countertops. For God's sake, you were going to go crazy.

"Yes, Nakamura, I fucked Chaewon," you managed to say, but very quietly as Kazuha massaged your cock beneath her fingers.

"Excuse me?" Zuha brought her ear to your mouth, then pulled your cock out of your sweatpants and masturbated you with her five fingers at a pace that felt too good. "I don't think I heard you quite right."

You brought your hands to your head and let it fall back, feeling all your sanity drain from your body. The situation reminded you of when Chaewon and Yunjin forced information out of you at the hotel pool in New York. Same damn helplessness.

"You're a damn..." you trailed off as she moved her wrist faster.

"What did you say?" Zuha tilted her head, and before continuing her handjob, she spat a decent amount of saliva into her hand.

"F-for God's sake! Fine! I fucked Chaewon!" you finally managed to spit out loud and clear enough for her to hear.

Kazuha then stopped abruptly. Something inside you told you that you should have expected that given how everything had played out, but you still groaned in frustration. She quickly took a couple of steps back, knowing that in the midst of desperation you could try something.

"Good to know, then," was all she said, her lips curled into a damned smirk at having gotten her way. "I think I'll go back to bed, manager-nim. Sleep hit me again."

"You fucking..."

"I'll see you later!" Kazuha said, and upon reaching the other side of the kitchen island, she turned her back to you and took off her shirt, revealing her magnificent, perfect ass and completely bare back as she walked toward the stairs, her T-shirt crumpled in a line that covered her small tits.

When Zuha came back up, she left you there alone, cock out and horny as hell. You had no choice but to finish the job she'd started, using the saliva she'd left on your shaft to do it.

And well, it was the best jerk-off of your life. Why deny it?

After cumming and cleaning up the embarrassing mess you'd made, you finally settled down to drink your damn espresso, with the damned uncertainty of not knowing what the hell Kazuha wanted from you. She'd already gotten what she wanted, and you suspected it was nothing more than a green light to act without any qualms. A position that only harmed you, of course.

For the next two days, you and her didn't talk much, but that was exactly what she wanted, since she knew your attention was going to be on her anyway. Kazuha wandered around the house, usually without pants or wearing clothes that were too tight and without a bra. Like any intelligent person, you tried not to pay too much attention to her, but she had her ways of making sure you always saw her, like walking right past you while you were using your laptop or bending over in ways that forced you to lift your head.

It was a damn torment you weren't sure how long you could endure, and that Kazuha could prolong as long as she wanted until you were begging for pussy. Maybe that was what she wanted after all: for you to lose all dignity and get on your knees before her and act like a pathetic, desperate dog. You were better than that, luckily.

That day was Friday night. Chaewon, Kura, and Eunchae had recently gone out to dinner, and it was just Yunjin, who was locked in her room, you, and Kazuha, whom you hadn't heard from all day. In Chaewon's words, she was spending the whole day to herself, and they had decided to leave her alone and not bother her.

Which meant you were certain no one was going to bother you. By the time you lay down on your sofa bed, you'd already eaten dinner and taken a shower, and were snuggled up under your blanket, reading a book with ambient noise in your AirPods to help you focus.

A while passed, and you were completely immersed in your reading, already feeling relaxed and ready to sleep in a couple of hours.

Until you felt a couple of taps on your right shoulder that nearly made your heart leap out of your body. The shock was such that your book fell into your lap.

"...Sorry!" was what you managed to hear. Taking out your AirPods, you looked over your shoulder to find Kazuha standing behind you, dressed in a tight black tracksuit consisting of tiny shorts and a sports bra under which she was wearing nothing. She was all sweaty, her hair tied in a high bun. It was probably the hottest thing she had ever looked.

"This better be important, Nakamura," you gasped, feeling like your heart was going to jump out of your chest from how fast it was beating.

"Did I scare you that much?"

You didn't even respond, just stared at her, lips set in a line and eyes expressionless.

"Okay, okay, sorry. Well, I came to ask for your help with something."

Kazuha was breathing a little ragged; she'd probably just finished training a little while ago.

"I was going to sleep in a bit."

"It'll be quick! I promise!" She clasped her hands together in a pleading gesture. "I just need you to help me with my stretches."

You let out a deep breath. This wasn't going to end well for you, you were sure of it. It was the perfect excuse for her to tease you even more. The option of refusing was growing stronger inside you, but fuck... what a damn sexy body. Tight in every corner and glistening with sweat. It wasn't fair at all.

"Okay, Nakamura," you nodded with a sigh, swishing your feet off the couch to slide them into your Crocs. "But hurry up. I'm already sleepy."

"Hai!" Zuha nodded, and ran to find a yoga mat she'd left nearby to spread it out in the space between the carpet and the glass wall that led to the inner patio. "Just stand behind me, okay?"

"Behind... you?" You wrinkled your brow, taking hesitant steps to stand on the mat with her.

Kazuha was the one who turned around so her back was to you. Your gaze inevitably dropped to her ass, and then quickly back to her when she looked over her shoulder at you.

"Hey, focus," Zuha chided you.

You raised your hands and shrugged.

Zuha looked straight ahead again, and took a couple of small steps back to be as close to you as possible, her ass rubbing against your crotch. Then, she opened her feet to the sides and bent fully forward to plant her hands against the mat, stretching her back. But it also gave you a prime view of that beautiful ass you were tempted to grab.

"Put your hand on the center of my back and push down, manager-nim," Zuha said. "I hope you don't mind the sweat."

You didn't mind in the slightest. Not when it came to her. To be completely honest, you could perfectly well lick every drop without objection.

Carefully, you placed the palm of your hand above Kazuha's lower waist and pressed down. Kazuha let out a low, almost inaudible moan and proceeded to stretch out on both sides, touching her toes with her fingers. A couple of seconds later, she straightened and turned around. You were so close that her body heat spread to you.

"Hold still," Kazuha said, taking a couple of steps back before bending forward again, this time keeping her back in a straight line before holding onto your waist. Her face was dangerously close to your bulge. "Do the same to my back."

You weren't sure it was necessary; she seemed to be doing all the work herself. But you didn't hesitate, placing your hand in the same position as a moment ago to apply gentle pressure. Kazuha groaned again, and you were petrified when she craned her neck slightly and pressed the tip of her nose against your bulge.

"Nakamura..." you said under your breath, but she didn't seem to hear you.

Kazuha craned her neck a little further and pressed her mouth against it before standing up again, an amused look on her face.

"Are you finished?" you asked with a glimmer of hope, feeling yourself starting to get hard.

"Almost there," Zuha replied, turning her back to you again to kneel on the mat. "Come on, behind me. Above my heels."

You sighed and obeyed, kneeling with her heels below your crotch, which was essentially rubbing against her ass. Kazuha must have sensed how hard you were, because you managed to catch a hint of a smile on her face.

"You'll do the same to my back," Zuha said, before bending her upper torso down, arms stretched out in front of her, head between them. Her ass looked delicious again under your eyes, round and firm as it was raised. Besides, the tiny shorts made part of her asscheeks peek out. If only you could pull those damn shorts down and...

With your eyes closed so as not to lose control, you placed your hand where Kazuha indicated. But this time, just to treat yourself, you pushed your hips forward a little and pressed your hard bulge fully against her ass. Kazuha moaned under her breath as she discreetly pressed her ass against you as well. She wasn't even stretching properly anymore; she only cared about whatever you were doing at the moment.

"Wah," she sighed, finally sitting back on her heels a few seconds later. "That feels so good."

"Are we done?" you asked, looking away with your hands in your lap. You had no idea why you were covering your boner if you'd already made her feel it on purpose, but you did it anyway.

"No, but all that's missing are my legs," Zuha replied. "And that's the most important thing."

"Of course it is," you said, tired.

Kazuha gestured for you to move to the side. As you did, she lay back on the mat facing you, her arms tucked into her body and her legs together. Then, she brought up a bent leg and grabbed the top of her calf to press it against her torso.

"You know what to do, right?" Kazuha asked, peeking out from behind her knee to look at you.

"You're assuming I know more than I actually do," you replied, kneeling beside her.

"Just press my thigh as far toward me as you can. It's easy."

"What if I hurt you?"

"You're not going to hurt me, silly. Come here."

You could have done that perfectly well from where you were, but Kazuha patted the opposite thigh. She wanted you to sit there, probably because it was the closest your crotches could be to each other. A meticulously malevolent being, you weren't wrong about that.

Cursing under your breath, you went and straddled her where she'd said, pressing her thigh toward her body with both of your hands. Aside from the cold sweat, her flesh felt firm beneath your fingers, the product of years and years of her ballerina training and now her workouts.

"Mmm, I think there might be a better angle for this," Kazuha murmured, and writhed beneath you to lower her position, consequently pressing your crotches together. Only then did you realize her pussy was poking through the fabric of her shorts, and your painfully hard bulge was rubbing against it.

"Fuck, Nakamura," you gasped, your fingers circling the back of her thigh. "Is this really necessary?"

"You agreed to help me, didn't you?" Zuha asked, glancing at your privates rubbing against each other.

"Yes, but..."

"Then don't complain. Now for the other leg."

You let go of her thigh so she could stretch out her leg and you could straddle her. She then brought her other leg up, and you held her thigh towards her body. The torturous process was the same. Now your cock was throbbing, and you didn't know where to look to hide your embarrassment.

"Having fun, huh?" Zuha ventured, and you knew what she meant without even looking at her.

"I think we have different concepts of what having fun is, Nakamura," you replied.

"You're wrong. It's the same for both of us. You're just more closed-minded about it than I am."

You chuckled. What a damn nerve she had, saying that.

Before you could respond, Kazuha lifted her hips and deliberately began grinding against your bulge. She even made you release her thigh so she could get better range of motion. Her crotch then began massaging your cock up and down, making you gasp.

"This is your concept of fun?" you asked, looking into her eyes.

"I don't know... you like it?" Zuha tilted her head and looked down at your bulge. She bit her lip. "No, you definitely like it. That's a silly question."

It was about to happen, you were sure of it. There was no way out. And since there wasn't, you finally dared to take a step forward.

Somewhat hesitantly, you placed your hand on Zuha's toned abdomen, then slowly lowered it until your thumb was touching her pussy. Zuha smiled, biting the tip of her tongue, and moaned when you circled near what you knew was her clit.

But just when you thought she was reaching out to return the favor, she put her hand on your abdomen and pushed you back with unexpected force. You fell onto your ass as she pulled away.

"You've got to be kidding me..." you said through gritted teeth, feeling the anger grow up within you.

"Thank you for your help, manager-nim," Zuha said, standing up. Her mischievous smile made your blood boil. "I know you must be very sleepy, so I'll let you go to bed."

"You're fucking despicable," you said as she picked up the mat, pulling it out from under you.

"And what are you gonna do about it?" Zuha raised her eyebrows, rolling up the mat. You didn't respond. "Yeah, I thought so."

Zuha then tucked the rolled-up mat under her arm and blew you a kiss before heading back the way she came, leaving you once again with a painful boner under your shorts and horny as hell. You cursed under your breath. It was partly your damn fault, for not having the balls to take charge of the situation. But what could you do? It was just common sense, since your position didn't give you the freedom to do whatever you wanted. Caution, you called it.

But your reasons for caution were running out, as was your patience. It was clear she wanted you to do something, and she wouldn't be like the other three girls, who would make their wishes clear from the start. No, Zuha wanted you to take the initiative, and she was poking you with a stick like a sleeping animal, just to see how long you could hold out until you swallowed your pride and gave in to your anger.

You had already swallowed your pride when you touched her a few moments ago. Now it only remained to see how much further your patience threshold could extend until you exploded, and that wouldn't be far.

That night you slept bitterly, not even wanting to masturbate to appease how horny you were. You would save yourself for her, for when the time came.

The next day passed peacefully. The girls had arrived from dinner in the early hours; you knew this since they woke you from your sleep just to notify you. They slept until 2 p.m., and later everyone—except for Eunchae, who went to visit her parents—was getting ready downstairs to party.

"Kim Chaewon, don't you dare turn off your phone," you warned, walking beside her as you escorted them out. Sakura, Yunjin, and Kazuha went ahead. "Keep me up to date as much as you can. I get anxious when you all go out."

Chaewon stopped and took your hand, careful not to let the others notice. That made you look at her.

"I promise to keep you updated, sweetheart," she said softly, taking a step toward you that immediately made you nervous. Her eyes landed on yours. "Stop worrying so much and trust me."

All the anxiety and worries subsided with that. A strange sense of relief washed over you through her sweet tone of voice and sparkling eyes. Hell fucking no. If you started having feelings for that girl, you were screwed.

But instead of drawing a line and making your position clear, you squeezed her hand in gratitude and gave her a small smirk. It felt good to do so, so you didn't regret it. At least not yet.

"Fine, sorry," you nodded, letting go of her hand. "What time are you planning on coming back?"

"Around 2 am," Chaewon replied. "Depends on how quickly we get in. I don't think it'll be long."

"Take care, then."

Chaewon glanced quickly at the girls, and when she confirmed they weren't looking, she stood on her tiptoes to give you a small kiss on the cheek before joining the others. The spot where her kiss fell felt warm, and now you had the emotional tide against you for not having been quick enough to avoid it.

You quickly said goodbye to the girls and followed them with your eyes as they left the house. But Zuha stopped suddenly and looked at them with a hand on her stomach and a furrowed forehead. On pure instinct, you took a couple of steps forward, worried.

"Huh? What's wrong?" Kura asked.

"Cramps," Kazuha replied, slouching slightly. "I think I need to go to the bathroom."

"Oh, we'll wait for you then."

"No, no," Zuha shook her head, putting one foot back inside the house. "I know this won't stop for a while. Go without me."

"Are you sure? You've been saying all day you needed a drink."

"I'd rather have my stomach healthy than a drink."

Kura pouted.

"As you wish," Kura took her hand in a rather motherly manner. "I'll call you later to check on you, okay?" Then she looked at you. "Manager-nim, make her some chamomile tea, will you?"

"Sure," you nodded.

Kazuha hugged the girls goodbye and closed the door herself. You stood there in the hall, waiting for her to turn to you.

"Do you need anything else?" you asked her as she walked toward you with a pained expression. "I'll make you the chamomile right away."

"I'm fine," Zuha replied, passing by you. "I just need that and rest. Thank you."

Zuha hurried up the stairs to the second floor, and you went straight to the kitchen to prepare her chamomile. Minutes later, the water was boiling, ready to put the sachet in. You would leave it for about ten minutes to let the flavor settle. While you waited, you decided to text her.

The minutes passed, and there was no response from her. You didn't find it strange; she was probably feeling really bad and had her phone away. It was best not to pressure her.

When enough time had passed, you took out the chamomile sachet and threw it in the trash. Then, you went to the fridge to find a lemon and cut it in half, to add a small splash of juice to your tea. Finally, you poured the tea into a porcelain cup and added sugar, not too much so as not to overpower the chamomile and lemon. The smell made you want to take a sip yourself.

You were about to take the cup to her when you received a message. It was her, and you almost slipped on the first few steps. There was a damn tap-to-see photo.

If you had dropped your jaw any further, you probably would have opened a hole in the floor. The photo was of her in a hot, skimpy lingerie set that you couldn't figure out how she managed to put on so quickly. It consisted mostly of interconnecting black velvet straps that ran all over her naked body, forming a triangle above her navel, from which two straps branched off on either side to connect with those that ran down to the sky-blue lace bows she had around each thigh, while the third went up to connect with the straps that circled the outline of her small tits to form a choker around her neck. The panties also consisted solely of straps, which highlighted her beautiful, perfectly shaved pussy. The icing on the cake were the lace details here and there: under her breasts, on her shoulders, the bows that encircled her thighs, and a small piece between the square formed by the straps over her pussy.

Very hot, yes. The boner had been instant. But you were overlooking something very important: that damn slut had fooled you all.

You hurriedly left the cup of chamomile tea in the kitchen and then ran to the second floor. Up there, you moved with long, impetuous strides, breathing like a rabid bull. When you reached the room Kazuha and Chaewon shared, you flung open the door and entered like an unstoppable force of nature, slamming it shut. The mythomaniac princess was on her own bed, face down, her back to the door. From there, the view of her naked ass was perfect.

Hearing you enter, Kazuha looked over her shoulder at you. She raised her calves to cross her feet and block your view of her pussy.

"I'm so fucking tired of you," you said, taking slow steps toward the bed.

"Yeah, but does this lingerie look cute on me or nah?" Zuha asked.

That was it. You couldn't take it anymore.

Almost without thinking, you took off the sweater you were wearing and threw it on the floor, striding toward the bed. Kazuha rolled over and positioned herself on her back, just in time for you to pounce on her and crash your lips against hers.

Kazuha moaned as she received your kiss, immediately wrapping her arms around your neck and her strong legs around your torso. She arched her back, pressing your bodies together and giving you the space to slide your hands underneath. You ran your hands up and down her back, feeling every muscle beneath your fingertips. Then you moved down to her thighs, pressed on either side of your waist, squeezing and rubbing them with the palms of your hands, careful not to damage the lace of the bows.

"Mmm, you took a while," Kazuha moaned against your lips, and reached between your bodies to grasp your cock through your sweatpants and knead it. She quickly got you hard. "You even made me use my last weapon."

"Last weapon? You've been running away from me all these damn days, what the fuck did you expect me to do?" You snapped, as Kazuha pulled down your sweatpants and boxers a little, freeing your hard cock.

"Have I really been running away, manager-nim?" Zuha asked between kisses. Her fingers wrapped around your shaft, rubbing it slowly. "Or is it that you just didn't have the balls to tame me this whole time?"

Oh, so that's where it was going, huh? Good.

"You're a fucking insufferable slut," you murmured, testing the waters.

"Mmm, yes," Zuha moaned, and moved her hand faster on your cock. "Tell me that again."

"I said two things. Which one? You're more of one than the other."

"Oh come on, stop playing around, manager-nim," Zuha gasped. She really wanted you to repeat it.

"You wish I was playing around, Nakamura."

You pulled away from Kazuha's lips and went straight down to her small breasts. Kazuha inevitably had to let go of your cock to place her hands between your neck and jaw, moaning as you took one of her nipples into your mouth and licked it with the tip of your tongue. There you sucked until her mound was covered in saliva, then moved on to the next. And after attending to each breast, you decided to indulge in a kissing spree all over Kazuha's upper body: collarbone, shoulders, arms, and finally her abdomen.

Kazuha gently gripped your hair as you ran your tongue down her stomach and placed wet kisses around her navel, your hands resting on her thighs. From there, you moved down to her lower abdomen, and then to the point where the straps and lace blocked the path to her pubis. You had to lower your body further to be between her legs, but not to eat her pussy, that would have been what she wanted. Instead, you opened her legs and took them behind her knees to kiss the inside of her thighs, teasing her with a touch of her pussy but always staying mere millimeters away.

"Is this fucking revenge or what?" Zuha asked with a whimper, still even though you didn't have her so tightly in her grasp. She was right where she wanted to be. "Do you think I don't deserve to have my pussy eaten?"

"No. You don't deserve it," you replied flatly, happy just to kiss and feel her soft skin and firm muscles against your lips.

"I only got you horny twice!" she protested, as if it was nothing. "You could have done something about it, but you didn't have the balls."

"You better shut up, walking microwave," you warned, standing up to remove your sweatpants and boxers. "Don't make this any harder for yourself."

"Or what? You'll just stand there and watch me have my way again?" Zuha chuckled, but the smile faded when you spat on your cock and took the tip into her pussy. "Oh wait! Fuck!" she moaned.

Her pussy was as tight as you imagined, but it didn't take much effort to fill her stifling walls with every inch of your shaft. It felt so stupidly heavenly that you rolled your eyes with a moan.

"You've been playing with yourself today, huh?" you asked, your hands pressing her thighs back, noticing how easily your cock slid in and out of her.

"Maybe," Zuha managed to reply between soft moans. She brought a finger to her mouth and nibbled on the tip as she watched you slowly fuck her.

"You knew your plan would work out perfectly, and you prepared for when I couldn't hold it in anymore. Fucking slut."

Without realizing it you'd repeated the word, and it quickly sank into Kazuha's body. She arched her back a few inches off the mattress and placed her hand between her breasts, sliding it down her abdomen to her pussy, rubbing circles over her clit. But you were quick to grab her wrist and pull it away, bringing both hands above her head to pin them to the mattress.

"I didn't say you could do that, did I?" You raised your eyebrows, looking down at her since her face was right under yours.

At that moment, a spark seemed to ignite in Kazuha's eyes, which softened and lost the arrogance of a few minutes ago.

"You're right, daddy," Zuha purred. "You never said I could touch myself."

Well, great. Not only was it enough for Chaewon to use that little word with you, but now Kazuha would also join the club. You weren't going to complain tho. It was simpler and more fun to accept the role with open arms.

"That's a good girl," you gasped, and with both hands holding her wrists against the bed, you began to fuck her like you'd been wanting to do all these days. Hard, and rough. Above all, rough. Seeking to release all that pent-up frustration she had sown in you.

Zuha's moans began to flow freely through the room, in perfect harmony with the sound of your gradually faster thrusts. She kept her legs wide open for you, and offered no resistance to your grip on her wrists in a show of pure submission. Too bad you didn't have handcuffs handy.

Zuha begged for a kiss with her gaze, which jumped from your eyes to your lips. To please her, you flexed your arms and lowered your body, meeting her cute, parted lips. The angle now forced you to move your hips slower, but at the same time, you were hitting spots in her pussy you hadn't previously reached, causing her to stifle whimpers against your lips.

"Yes daddy," Zuha moaned. "I fucking love that, keep it up please!"

Zuha pursed her lips, closed her eyes, and arched her back, her tits now brushing against your chest. She was close to her orgasm; you could tell by the way she made a show of closing her thighs around your torso and by the way her moans faded to give way to heavy gasps. You would have allowed it with Chaewon, but you weren't going to be so forgiving with her after she'd made your life miserable for so many days. So just when she thought she was about to cum, you released her wrists and pulled out of her.

"Daddy, no!" Zuha protested. Her eyes filled with tears. "No, please! Let me cu-"

Her protests fell short of nothing when you knelt to her left, grabbed the back of her neck, and guided your cock into her mouth. Kazuha took it with a whimper, but hollowed her cheeks as she pumped her head and sucked on your cock.

"I decide when you can cum," you said, brushing her hair behind her ears and then tying it back into a ponytail with your left hand. "Is that clear?"

Zuha looked up at you as she pumped halfway into your cock and nodded. You let her do the work at first, just to give your lower body a rest, and she was doing an excellent job with her mouth and tongue. She took you out for short periods of time to lick your tip and kiss your shaft all over, trying to please you enough to soften you up. It almost worked. But before she could continue, you made her stop so you could take control and fuck her mouth.

"Be a good girl and take all that cock for daddy," you panted as you pushed a few more inches into her mouth. It didn't fit all of it: you soon ran into the natural barrier that made her gag. But it was more than enough. "Oh fuck yes."

With one hand in Zuha's makeshift ponytail and the other on the right side of her neck, you began pumping your hips back and forth at a steady pace, getting faster as the seconds ticked by. You could tell Zuha wasn't used to that sort of thing, but she was enjoying it despite her gag reflex triggering over and over again and making a mess of her own saliva.

Soon your thrusts became aggressive and frantic, causing the pool of saliva building up inside Zuha's mouth to soak your cock and spill in thick drops onto her small tits. Zuha didn't bother asking for a break, whether out of pride or to show you she was a good girl. Either way, you gave her a hard time when you pushed her head down onto the base of your cock. She gripped your thighs out of inertia, closing her eyes as you nuzzled your tip into her throat. A few seconds later, you were forced to pull out when Zuha started coughing.

"Now it's not so fun leaving me hanging, huh?" you asked, letting go of her hair and neck. Zuha's head fell and bounced against the mattress as she coughed.

"If I hadn't, you wouldn't be like this right now," Zuha gasped, coughing again. Then she grabbed your cock and moved her hand over it slowly, not caring that it would get drenched in the thick layer of saliva covering your shaft. "It's perfect."

You pulled out of her and went back between her legs to lie on your stomach, wrap your arms around her thighs, and finally plant your mouth on her pussy. Zuha arched her back and sighed in relief, as if she'd been wanting it for a long time—which she probably had. The case wasn't much different for you: tasting that delicious meat dish went straight to your deepest fantasies, repressed by what you thought was the harsh reality of never being able to achieve it. But now you couldn't be anything but grateful for the twists of fate, because her folds were so soft and delicious that in a normal situation it would have taken an entire construction crew to pry you away.

"I thought I didn't deserve you eating my pussy," Zuha said, stroking your hair.

"Let's just say you've done enough to earn it," you replied, and proceeded to go up to her clit.

"Also to cum?" she asked, but you didn't respond.

Following the canons established by your past fantasies about her, you ate her pussy as if it were the last chance you'd ever have. A little over a minute passed when, in the same characteristic pattern, Zuha was about to cum. You continued as if you knew nothing, with a relentless emphasis on her clit. You took her to the very limit.

Close...

Until you rose up to leave her pussy and let her orgasm hang.

"Oh my god, no!" Zuha whimpered, desperately trying to grab you and return you to her pussy, but you slipped away. "Please daddy, no!"

"I said you deserved me to eat your pussy," you said, grabbing her left leg behind the knee to push it back and insert two fingers into her pussy. Zuha whimpered. "I never said anything about cumming."

"And how do you expect me not to cum if you do that?" Zuha asked, as you began pumping your fingers in and out of her.

"That's your problem, not mine."

"But-!" Zuha bit out a protest as your fingers sped up. She had to take a moment to gather her words. "But daddy, I'm so close! I can't hold it!"

"Yes you can, and you'll be able to," you threatened, your left hand fingers digging into the back of her thigh. Your fingers were fucking her wet pussy fast. "So don't you fucking dare cum until I tell you to."

"But I want to cum!" Zuha whimpered, her hands clutching the sheet. Tears pooled in her eyes again, and one trickled down her cheek. "Please!!"

"Stop whining like a brat and hold it!" you snorted.

Another tear or two trickled down Zuha's cheeks as she looked everywhere but down. She brought a hand to her mouth to stifle her screams, and bit down on that same hand when it balled into a fist. Her breathing, on the other hand, showed how desperate she was, as her chest rose and fell like a bellows about to burst. It was admirable, to be honest. In her position, you wouldn't have lasted two seconds.

"Please!!" Zuha insisted, now truly crying because of the way her lower lip trembled.

"A little more..." you said under your breath, staring at her. Your wrist was starting to tire. "Hold on... Now cum, slut."

Zuha exploded with such force that she tore the sheets off their edges and let out a scream so loud you were sure it could have been heard on the street at that time of night. Her violent orgasm was accompanied by a pleasant surprise: an intense jet of squirt that you let out freely as you pulled your fingers out of her, soaking her buttocks, the sheets, and part of your knee.

"What a good girl," you praised her, watching her thighs tremble. "You made a whole damn mess tho."

Zuha looked at you with tear-filled eyes, arms open at her sides. She hadn't bothered to wipe her cheeks. Her buttocks and thighs were soaked with drops of squirt.

"Keep fucking me, daddy, please," she said in a small voice, bringing two fingers to her pussy, rubbing them a few times between her folds, and then bringing them to her mouth to suck on her own fluids. "I can handle it like the good girl I am."

"Let's put that to the test then. Turn around."

Zuha rolled over and onto her stomach. Her sweet spot, that firm, round ass, was now entirely at your disposal. You placed your hands underneath her and made her raise her hips. She got the message and spread her knees to the sides, lifted her ass, and arched her back, leaving only her chest and hands against the mattress. It was the perfect backshot position, and the damn lingerie still intact only made it much better.

Without wasting time, you grabbed your cock and drove it into her pussy, in a single smooth motion that made you both moan in unison. Her pussy walls embraced your cock from all directions, squeezing it hard and warming her up. Zuha, with her head resting on her crossed arms, looked over her shoulder and locked eyes with you. Then you, with your hands on her waist, began to fuck her.

Going slow at first was something you did on purpose, mainly to feel every possible texture of her pussy in detail, but also to admire the view of her perfect raised ass with a cock constantly disappearing between her butt cheeks. But that soon became insufficient for you. So you made a sudden change of gear.

"Mmmgh, does my pussy feel good when you fuck it like that, daddy?" Zuha whimpered, now being pounded and jolted by your thrusts.

"It must feel better for you, right?" you asked through gritted teeth, and you slapped her left butt cheek before squeezing it. "This is what you've been wanting for days."

"Oh, you have no idea," Zuha replied with a sigh. "I haven't been able to stop imagining how well that cock could fill me up ever since Kura-chan told me everything."

"That damn snitch," you grumbled.

"Thanks to that damn snitch, you're fucking me hard from behind like a whore, don't forget that. Mmmgh!!"

You gripped her waist with your fingers tightly gripped and your pelvis collided with her ass with hard slaps. Zuha opened her arms from under her head and extended them to the sides, elbows bent, to crumple the sheets between her fingers. She understood that she no longer had any restrictions on cumming, and she did so after a few brief seconds.

But you felt in perfect shape to continue, nowhere near cumming even though your engine was revving at full power and she looked that hot.

Zuha squealed in despair as you continued your thrusts through her orgasm. Now you had one hand on her bare, muscular back, and seconds later you reached up to grab a handful of her long, black hair and pull her head back. She came again after a few seconds, and the spasms forced her to drop her hips back onto the mattress. Your cock inevitably slipped out of her pussy.

"Do you need a break?" you asked, slipping out of character a little since she looked exhausted.

"I appreciate your concern, but no," Zuha replied, bringing her legs together so her buttocks squeezed against each other. "I said I could take it. So don't be so kind to me, daddy."

"Well, if you insist..."

You straddled her thighs and guided your cock between her buttocks, rubbing it between them before returning to her pussy. As you went back inside her, you leaned forward to lie flat on top of her, grabbing her chin to turn her head and kiss her. Zuha moaned against your lips as you fucked her with slow, deep strokes.

After kissing her for some long seconds, you braced your hands against the mattress and lifted yourself up to move harder, thrusting up and down. Zuha dropped her head and let the right side of her face rest against the mattress.

"Oh, daddy, you're filling me up so good," Zuha moaned, glancing at you. She reached out and found a pillow to hold onto. "I can't wait to feel all that hot, sticky load inside me..."

"Can you stand up?" you asked between gasps. "There's a particular way I'd like to do it."

"I think I know what you mean," Zuha nodded. "Let's do whatever you want, daddy."

You immediately pulled off her and helped her stand up off the bed. Her wobbly legs made you hesitate about whether it was a good idea or not, but she didn't seem close to giving in to them. And instead of complaining, Zuha did her iconic Antifragile leg lift as soon as you stood between the beds, only instead of lowering it back again, she rested it against your left shoulder and let her calf fall behind your back.

"Oh... my... god," you said to yourself, amazed not only by Zuha's flexibility, but also by the stamina she had in her support leg and how hot her pussy looked.

"Is this what you had in mind, daddy?" Zuha asked, one hand on your chest and the other resting against the wall for balance.

"Oh, that's perfect," you nodded, placing your hand on her thigh to rub up and down while the other rubbed her abs. "Are you sure you can hold yourself like this?"

"I can," she agreed. "But you'd better hurry or my legs might give out on me."

Without needing to say anything else, you grabbed your cock and guided it back inside her. The sensation was completely different now: it was tighter inside her, much tighter. It was like putting your cock between two damn hydraulic presses that threatened to crush it. And god, it felt fucking delicious. If you thought your climax was still far off before, you had to reconsider that now, because as soon as you started fucking her in that position, your body entered a state of ecstasy you'd rarely felt in your life, as if all your blood was flowing faster to give you a surge of energy.

For Zuha it felt just as good, or at least that's how it seemed from the way she moaned louder than she had a moment ago and dug her natural nails into your abdomen. Her legs didn't seem close to giving way, but it got really tough for her when she came again, and her supporting leg wobbled. You held onto the leg she had draped over you as tightly as you could, keeping her from falling to the floor. In the process the lace bow on her thigh loosened, but the straps were intact.

Zuha's solution was as simple as it was perfect: she sacrificed the balance the wall gave her to press herself against her own leg and clung to your neck with her arms, so that her head was next to her knee and your faces were inches from each other. Of course, you kissed her, concentrating entirely on how good her pussy felt amidst such hard, fast thrusts.

After a moment, you entered the downward spiral. One thrust after another against that tight pussy with every inch of your shaft, Zuha's moans against your lips, your bodies now sweaty. It all resulted in the most mind-melting and electrifying orgasm you'd experienced to date.

"Oh my fucking god!" you moaned, shooting spurt after spurt of thick cum into that tight Japanese ballerina pussy.

"Oh daddy that feels so good," Zuha sighed, letting her head fall back. Her fingers gripped the back of your neck. "Actually I think I'm going to... Mmmgh!!"

Zuha went through her own sensual orgasm as you emptied your balls inside her and felt her muscles and pussy contract. You kissed her long, luscious neck, still moaning to yourself until your climax subsided. Then you stayed like that for a while, balls deep inside her and holding her close to catch your breath.

"You came a lot, daddy..." Zuha whispered in your ear. "You've been saving yourself for me, haven't you? That's adorable..."

"I'd rather not answer, Nakamura," you replied, placing more kisses on her neck and jawline. "All I know is that you're so fucking hot."

Zuha pulled you in for another kiss, this time slower and more passionate, and gave you a gentle push back to ease you out of her. You both looked down to see your cum spilling onto the carpeted floor beneath your feet.

"You know this floor is a fucking pain to clean, right?" you asked.

"It's not like you clean it regularly," Zuha retorted.

"And neither do you."

"Yeah anyway," Zuha looked up and met your gaze. "Will you sleep with me for a while, daddy?"

"Just a little while," you nodded. "Do you want me to help you take all that stuff off?"

"Oh yeah, please," she sighed. "Putting it on was a pain in the ass."

"No surprise there."

Zuha pulled away from you and sat on the edge of her bed. You helped her remove the entire piece of lingerie, being careful not to pinch her with the straps. It wasn't until Zuha was completely naked that she lay down on the bed, facing the wall, with her back to you. And as soon as you lay down next to her, she pushed her ass back to be your little spoon. The mattress didn't have a sheet, as she'd pulled it out from the edges while you were fucking her, and it was all wrinkled in one corner, so you could snuggle up comfortably to close your eyes.

But you couldn't afford to get too comfortable and sleep too much. Zuha still had a lie to maintain, and if Chaewon caught you there, it was going to be a huge mess for her. So you never really got to sleep.

After a couple of hours, you woke Zuha up, and together you set about making the bed and cleaning as much as you could. By the time the girls returned, everything was in perfect natural order: Zuha asleep in her bed in comfy clothes, and you lying on your couch.

No one ever suspected a thing.

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

#lesserafim smut #le sserafim smut #kazuha smut #kpop smut #smut fanfic #male reader smut #male reader insert #x male reader smut

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slutzforbueckers · 2 days ago

Note

Paige x reader go ALL NIGHT. (Literally all night till like the fucking crack of dawn) It starts off with them taking honey packets as jokes but they realize that it hits them harder than they expected and they get rlly sensual qnd horny and it leads to the smut but like they do EVERYTHING in the book (this is actually filth and borderline insanity)

Ex: strap, oral, fingering,(both p&r receiving for all three), 69, scissoring, dirty talk- they go from bedroom, to kitchen, to counter, to living room, to the car, against the wall, to shower (it doesn’t have to be in this order)

all night long

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: smut smut smut smut

synopsis: you and paige take the viral honey packets—as a joke, of course— and you doubted its authenticity until you both couldn’t keep your hands off of each other.

a/n: anon i love you.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

it started as a joke.

you and paige had went to the gas station on a late night snack run. paige had spotted them first, those little golden packets that had everyone in a chokehold. she had looked at you and you had looked at her, both sharing one thought. you grabbed two, quickly paid for your things and left.

now, you were siting in the driveway to your shared house. you sat with your back against the door, your leg pulled into the seat, watching paige watch you. you had taken the packets as soon as you got in the car from the gas station so that it would have kicked in by the time you got back home, and it did. honestly you were skeptical at first, thinking everyone had been exaggerating but you were starting to feel it.

"is it just me or..." you trailed off, shifting in your seat slightly. your body was starting to feel hot with need and paige looked extra good.

"nah, i feel it." she shook her head, her fingers curling into the fabric of her shorts. your eyes followed the movement, watching as the veins in her hand popped. the air was thick as you both waited for the other to make a move. it wasn't long before you did.

"push your seat back."

paige didn't have to be told twice. she pushed her seat back as far as it would go and you climbed into her lap, crashing your lips into hers without a care in the world. her hands found your ass almost immediately, fingers pressing into your flesh like she couldn’t get enough—which, she couldn’t. the way you kissed was nothing short of filthy—tongues fighting for dominance, teeth clashing, hands roaming. your teeth grazed her bottom lip, sucking it into your mouth hard enough to make her moan.

"i want you," you breathed against her mouth, voice low and desperate. "right now, paige."

“take me. right here, right now.” she couldn’t hide her desperation, she couldn't deny you, not when she was already soaked in her boxers. your hands roamed up her hoodie as you moved down, lowering onto your knees in the drivers seat. it was a tight fit but you couldn't care less, you only had one goal in mind and that was tasting her.

you yanked her shorts and boxers down both in one swift motion your hands immediately spread her thighs and you couldn't help but moan looking at how wet she already was. you leaned in without hesitation, dragging your tongue flat through her folds, humming as her slick coated your tongue. paiges head fell back with a soft thud, a breathy whimper escaping her lips as her hips twitched.

her body was on fire, everything seemed ten times more intense, and she was loving every second of it. paige's hands found their way to your head, she looked down at you as she gathered your hair into a makeshift ponytail. you wrapped your lips around her clit, sucking just enough to make her hips jerk up.

"holy shit—" she whined. the car was starting to get hot, the windows fogging up slightly. paige tugged your head closer, if that was even possible, her hips starting to grind into your mouth as she chased that high. you focused on her clit, flicking your tongue fast, then slow, then fast again, sucking it into your mouth with just the right amount of pressure.

one of your hands slid down to tease her entrance, fingers slick with her arousal as you circled around before pushing two inside her. the way she gasped made you clench around nothing.

“fuck, baby, i’m gonna—” she didn’t even finish the sentence before her thighs clamped around your head, back arching as she came hard on your mouth, crying out your name.

you didn’t stop until she was twitching and begging—literally begging—for you to slow down. you pulled back with a slick-covered smile, licking her off your lips like you were savoring dessert. paige slumped into the seat, her arm coming up to rest over her eyes, chest rising and falling heavily.

she let out a small moan as looked down at you, a fucked out expression on your face just from eating her out. "in the house. now."

you barely made it inside the front door before she was pushing you against the nearest wall, pressing her body flush against yours as she kissed you like she needed it to breath. your hand rested on the back of her head, fingers curled into her blonde hair.

paige pulled away so she could pull your shirt over your head, then dropped to her knees like a woman possessed. her fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts and she yanked them down, your panties going with them. you stepped out of them blindly, chest heaving from the way she looked at you—lips swollen, pupils blown, jaw tight with need.

“you’re so fucking wet already,” she muttered as she lifted your leg and placed it over her shoulder, her eyes zeroing in on your glistening cunt. she dragged her fingers through your folds, spreading you open. “you got this wet just from making me cum?”

you whimpered, nodding your head and pressing yourself against the wall for support. “yes—yes, fuck i love it.”

her mouth was on you in a second— hot, relentless, like her entire purpose in life was to make you cum on her tongue. her tongue slid through your folds with slow, deliberate pressure before she zeroed in on your lit, sucking it into her mouth hard enough to make your thighs shake. you slapped a hand against the wall behind you, the other flying to her hair as your hips jerked forward, desperate to feel more.

"oh my god- fuck baby, you're so good at that, don't stop."

she moaned into you like you were her favorite meal, and in a way you were. her tongue flicked and swirled, lips locking around your clit as two fingers slid into you without earning, deep and fast. you cried out, eyes rolling back as she curled them just right, hitting that spot that made your whole body react, that made your head spin.

"god, you taste so fucking good." her words vibrated against you and your hips jerked forward, fingers tightening in her hair as you gushed around her fingers. the sound your cunt was making as she fucked you with her fingers was obscene, loud and filthy in a way that had your stomach tightening.

you couldn't think, couldn't breathe—all you could do was grind into her mouth, chasing her fingers with reckless abandon. your head fell back against the wall and your stomach tightened. paige ran her hands up your thighs, circling around your hips and grabbing your ass. her fingers pressed into your flesh as she pulled you against her mouth, flattening her tongue on your clit and shaking her head.

“you’re gonna make me cum, paige. don’t stop—yes yes yes—“ you voice went up an octave as you nearly screamed, your back arching off the wall as your thighs shook with the force of your orgasm. paige fucked you through it, moaning against your clit, still curling her fingers against that sweet spot.

“damn,” you exhaled shakily when paige pulled her fingers out, you looked down at her with low eyes. paige chuckled as she lowered your leg from her shoulder, pressing one last kiss to your clit before standing up. her mouth and chin were glistening and she pressed her forehead against yours, letting your rapid breaths mingle.

"didn't think it would really work but..." paige trailed off, her slick fingers grazing your hip. "i really wanna fuck you on every surface of this house."

"so do it." you whispered. paige didn't have to be told twice. her lips were on yours within the second, her hands grasping at your hips as she pulled you off the wall. you wrapped your arm around her neck and kissed her back harder, moaning into her mouth as she slipped her tongue past your lips.

paige walked you towards the living room, bumping into the side table which made you both laugh. paige pulled away so she could direct you to the couch without tripping over anything—you took the chance to litter kisses down her jaw. once you felt the back of your legs hit the cushions you twisted around and pushed her down.

“take your clothes off.” you demanded, reaching behind you to unhook your bra and letting it fall off your shoulders. paige quickly pulled her hoodie off, revealing her bare chest underneath, and pushed her shorts and boxers off in one swift motion. she laid back and you climbed on top, slotting your legs between hers so your cunt pressed against hers.

paige’s hands found your hips as she guided your movements, her lips parting. she couldn’t take her eyes away from where your bodies met, she was entranced. you rolled your hips just right, your clit catching hers perfectly.

“you feel that?” you whispered, your voice low and dark as your hips rolled forward again, dragging your pussy against hers with a sticky, obscene sound. “you’re so wet for me, paige. god.”

her head fell back with a moan, breathless and desperate. “f-fuck. that shit is insane, I—” she grabbed your hips tight, guiding your grind as her voice dropped into a groan. “you’re fucking dripping. keep going, baby. don’t stop.”

you didn’t, you couldn’t, not when it felt that good. you pressed your forehead to hers and started moving harder, faster, rocking your hips in a rhythm that had both of you panting. the slick heat of her cunt against yours, the tension building fast—your thighs were already shaking. paige hips jerked up to meet yours, the added pressure causing moan after moan to fall from your lips.

paiges hands fell to your ass and she began pulling you against her harder, her breath coming out in short, sharp gasps. the house was quiet, the only thing heard was the sound of your moans and the squelch of your cunts pressed against each other. you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked down at her, watching each jab of pleasure shoot across her facial expressions.

pressing your lips against hers, you moaned into her mouth—a high pitched whine that had her slapping your ass. she could tell you were close, the way your hips stuttered and lost their rhythm being a tell sign.

"cum for me, pretty. let me feel it." she muttered against your lips, using her grip on your ass to pick up the slack. you dropped your head onto her shoulder, your breathing hot and heavy.

all you could do was moan, that knot in your stomach slowly starting to unravel. there wasn't a thought in your head, no other than how good she felt. the couch creaked from how hard you were grinding against each other, you wouldn't be surprised if by the end of the night you were searching for a new couch.

you didn't warn her that you were going to cum, there was no need, she could feel it coming. your clits dragged over each other, swollen and slick, wetness coating both of your thighs. you rolled your hips again, harder, and it was over. you kissed her, messy and care free, as your orgasm rocked through your body.

"paige," you mewled, tears welling in your eyes as she kept up the same hard pace. you could feel the pricks of overstimulation settling in your skin and somehow it still wasn't enough.

"i'm almost there—fuck, ma, keep going." her voice cracked and her grip on you tightened, trying to hold you there as her hips bucked up wildly. you kissed her again, moaning because you could feel yourself tumbling into another orgasm.

her back arched, thighs trembling, eyes shutting tight as she came with a loud groan, soaking your thighs as she clung to you. your whole body trembled as your cunt throbbed against hers, soaked and messy. you collapsed on top of her, both of you gasping, legs tangled, sweat-slicked skin sliding together.

“holy fuck,” you heaved.

neither of you spoke for a moment, just trying to catch your breath and come down. one of paiges hands traced lazy circles on your back, the other was tangled in your hair.

a minute passed and paige swallowed, voice hoarse as she finally broke the silence. “is it bad i still want more?”

you laughed, lifting yourself up and planting your hands on her chest.

“would it also be bad if i agreed?”

it was past 5 am now, and you and paige were still going.

your legs were wrapped around her waist, ankles locked behind her back to keep her in place. her hips moved at an impossible pace, hard and fast. your moans flowed straight from your mouth to her ears, the sound a beautiful melody she adored.

paige pressed wet, open-mouthed kissed to your neck down to your shoulder, each one leaving behind a faint sting—the kind that made your toes curl and your walls flutter around the strap she was fucking you with. her hands gripped your thighs tightly, pressing you open as she rocked her hips into yours like she was trying to live inside you.

"you take me so good," she groaned against your skin, her voice low, rough with need. "always so good for me."

you could barely speak—your throat was raw from moaning, begging, crying out her name again and again. every drag of the strap against your walls make your stomach clench and your legs twitch, you clung to her shoulders, nails digging into her back as you buried your face into her neck.

“paige—fuck, i-i can’t—” your hips jerked up to meet her thrusts, a broken sob tearing from your throat. she adjusted her angle, pulled back just enough to slam into you deeper, harder, the base of the strap grinding perfectly against her clit with every thrust. the sound of wet skin slapping filled the room, joined by the thud of the bed frame hitting the wall and the desperate sounds leaving your mouth.

“i’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, voice cracking. “fuck, paige—I’m gonna—”

“cum for me,” she demanded, one hand flying up to press against your throat—not tight, just enough to make your breath hitch. “cum on my cock, baby. let me feel you.”

your back arched as you shattered beneath her, legs locked tight around her waist, eyes rolling back as you came hard, soaking her strap and your thighs all over again. you fell back against the pillows with a loud breath, feeling like the wind had just been knocked from your lungs. you felt paige move off of you and you opened your eyes, blinking up at her in a daze.

"wanna fuck you now." you muttered, sitting up and reaching for the the strap. paige handed over the harness and you fastened it around your hips. once you had it tightened to your fit, paige crawled into your lap, bitting her lip as she hovered over the strap. she wrapped her hand around the strap and cursed under her breath as she could feel your cum still dripping off the silicon.

you leaned back and watched as she slowly lowered herself onto the strap, small whimpers leaving her mouth as she felt the stretch. paige gasped as she bottomed out, her lips parting, hands flying to hold onto your shoulders for stability.

paige started to move, slowly at first, the strap slipping in and out with ease from how wet everything was. your hands found her hips, guiding her movements. her fingers tangled in your hair, her mouth brushing against your cheek, your jaw, your neck. you kissed her shoulder, then down to her collarbone, each press of your lips pulling another soft sound from her.

then, you started to lift your hips in time with hers, thrusting up as she came down—each one sending a sharp bolt of pleasure through her body.

"oh my—fuck, baby. feels so good." she moaned, her head falling onto your shoulder. you responded with a slow thrust upward, and she gasped, her back arching just enough for your hands to trace down her spine and squeeze her ass, guiding her pace. she started to move faster, grinding harder, her thighs flexing around you.

her orgasm was building fast, thanks to all the ones she had before, her body buzzed with overwhelming pleasure. the slick sound of the strap sliding into her filled the room, punctuated by the soft, broken cries she couldn’t hold back anymore. her nails dug into your back—not hard, but enough to ground herself.

you could tell she was close, evident in the way her moans increased, her pace faltering before picking back up faster and messier. she buried her face in your neck, her breath hot and uneven against your skin. “y/n,” she whimpered, voice high and trembling. “i’m—oh my god, i’m gonna—”

“i know, baby. let it go,” you whispered, your voice steady and low, right in her ear. you kept thrusting up into her, matching the roll of her hips. paige cried out, her whole body seizing up as wave after wave of pleasure rocked through her. she held onto you like she might float away otherwise, her thighs shaking around your hips as she rode it out. you slowed your thrusts, just enough to keep her whimpering, keep her grounded while her orgasm surged, leaving her gasping against you.

paige lifted herself up, wincing at the feeling of emptiness, and fell onto the bed beside you. you looked over at her and laughed at how fucked out she looked, her hair was a mess, skin flushed red, her chest still rising and falling unevenly.

"bro," she groaned, turning her head to the side to hide her face from you. you got off the bed and started to remove the harness from your hips. the room was thick with the smell of sex and sweat.

you climbed back onto the bed and onto her lap, leaning down and pressing your lips to her jawline then to the spot right under her ear. "still want more, p."

paige hummed and turned her head towards you, her hands finding your ass. "really?"

"mhm, i love getting you off." you muttered against her skin, ghosting your lips over her cheek before settling on her lips. you kissed her. once. twice. "you're so pretty when you cum."

your words made paige groan, her eyes fluttering for a second. she tugged you up her body, your wet cunt sliding across her abs. "i want you to sit on my face. like right now."

you smiled against her lips and lifted yourself up, turning around and carefully moving back until you hovered over her face. paige didn't waste a second, her eyes landed on your pussy and she grabbed your waist, tugging you down until her tongue was flat against you. a soft gasp fell from your lips as she immediately went to work.

your hips grinder down against her mouth and then you were leaning forward, hands separating her thighs so you could taste her. the second your tongue found her clit she jerked under you, her thighs twitching as she drew her legs up and planted her feet on the bed.

at the same time, you felt her tongue flick against you, soft and hot, and you moaned, hips jolting forward instinctively. paige held you steady with both hands on your ass, guiding your hips against her mouth as she licked deeper, messier, somehow hungrier. you moaned into her, the vibrations making her whimper beneath you.

it was electric—somewhat a push and pull between your mouths, the slick, obscene rhythm that built faster each time your tongues stroked and circled and pressed. you rocked against her face with purpose now, matching every pulse of her mouth with a deeper lick of your own, determined to draw every sound out of her you could.

her hips were bucking now, trying to meet your tongue, and you held her steady, fingers digging into her thighs as you flattened your tongue against her, slow then fast then slow again—right until you felt her body start to tremble. she moaned against your pussy, long and guttural, and the sound of it dragged you closer to the edge too.

you felt her body tense beneath you, her thighs trembling, her breaths turning into helpless little whimpers as your tongue never relented. you knew she was close and you didn’t let up for a second. you circled her clit with slow, deliberate pressure, then sucked, and that was it. paige’s cry was muffled beneath you as she came hard, her entire body jolting beneath your mouth. you didn’t stop—kept licking her through it, feeling her hips jerk with every wave crashing over her.

her fingers dug into your ass, holding you in place as her moans vibrated directly against your clit—that alone had you spiraling. your thighs clenched around her head as you let out a strangled moan, hips grinding desperately down onto her mouth. she met you with everything she had—tongue flicking, licking, sucking until your vision blurred. you came with a loud, shaking gasp, your whole body shuddering above her, thighs locking around her head as your orgasm rolled through you in pulsing waves.

your hands gripped her legs for stability, and she kept going, gently this time, easing you down from the peak while you whimpered and panted above her. eventually, you slumped forward, your lips finding the inside of her thigh, pressing slow kisses into her skin as you both tried to breathe again. her hands rubbed soothing circles into the back of your thighs, her touch still tender, even after all that.

you lifted yourself off her with care, then collapsed beside her, your arm and leg draped across her. paiges eyes fluttered open, dazed but glowing. the room fell quiet except for your breathing, both of you tangled in each other. you laid there for a while, fingers tracing lazy shapes along paige’s waist, before you finally whispered, “i need water or i’m gonna die.”

paige let out a quiet laugh, her fingers gliding through your hair once more before she sat up. “go, before you die.”

you shoved her shoulder lightly at the sarcastic edge to her voice and slid off the bed. you picked up one of her t-shirts that laid messily on the floor and pulled it over your head. padding out of the bedroom, you made your way to the kitchen in the soft, low light, the floor cool beneath your bare feet. you grabbed a glass and filled it at the sink, leaning against the counter as you took a long sip.

you hummed in contentment as you took another sip, leaning against the counter. it was quiet until you heard the soft shuffle of feet approaching the kitchen. before you could turn, two arms were wrapping around your waist. paige was there, pressing her front against your back, hands trailing up your thighs and under your shirt.

“you look so good in my shirt,” she murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “too good.”

a shiver ran through your spine and you called her name with a small groan. “there’s no way that stuff is still working.”

“nah, das all you.” she whispered, her hand reaching up to move your hair aside so she could press kisses down the side of your neck. “i just need to feel you again. that okay, ma?”

you could only nod, hips already tilting back into her touch. she grinned against your skin and ran her hand up to your cunt. she slid two fingers between your folds, groaning when she felt just how soaked you still were. her fingers teased you for a second—gentle, slow—then she slipped them inside with practiced ease, curling just right.

your hand slammed against the counter for balance as your body arched into her. she kept one arm around your waist, holding you in place, as she thrust her fingers steadily—deep and slow, then faster as your moans grew louder. you set the glass of water down with a shaky hand and bent forward over the counter.

your thighs trembled as her pace picked up, the wet, lewd sounds filling the quiet kitchen. her other hand slid up to your breast beneath the shirt, fingers pinching your nipple lightly before rolling it between her fingers, pulling another moan from your throat. then she shifted, adjusting the angle—curling her fingers deeper, her palm dragging slightly over your clit as she moved. you nearly sobbed at the sensation, your knees weakening as her fingers brushed against that spot.

“shit, paige—right there,” you breathed, the words barely making it out before your body was overtaken by another wave of sensation. every little breath you let out—every twitch of your hips, every whimper—only spurred her on. paige kissed along your shoulder blade, trailing her mouth across the back of your neck, her breathing heavy and quick against your skin.

she ran her free hand over your hip, her fingers curling into your skin as she pulled your body back into hers. “let me hear you, baby. let go.”

you cried out—no control left as your orgasm crashed over you, your muscles tensing so hard your knees nearly buckled. paige didn’t stop, just fucked you through it, holding you steady with a hand on your hip. your hips jerked, oversensitive, and she finally slowed—fingers still inside, but easing the rhythm now, drawing out every last pulse until you collapsed forward against the counter, gasping for breath. she kissed the back of your head, then down your spine.

“i’ll meet you in the shower, yeah?”

a moment later, you followed her into the bathroom, steam already clouding in the air. the sound of running water filled the space, and paige stood beneath it, back arched slightly, eyes closed as the water poured over her. you stepped in behind her, the heat wrapping around you instantly.

your hands found her waist, and she let out a soft sigh, leaning back into you. you kissed the slope of her shoulder, trailing your mouth up her neck before whispering, “sit down.”

she dropped onto the built-in bench with no hesitation, legs spreading just enough to let you settle between them. her gaze met yours—half-lidded, already heavy with want. you kissed her thigh first, a gentle kiss before you pressed your lips to her swollen clit. you took your time—a teasing lick, a kiss. paige let out a quiet whimper when you blew on your clit, her hips shifting forward.

you flattened your tongue and licked a long, slow stripe through her folds, groaning against her as the taste of her spread across your tongue. paige gasped, hips twitching beneath your hands, her thighs tightening around your shoulders as you did it again, and again. your tongue circled her clit, then flicked softly, teasing just enough to make her whimper. you moaned into her, the vibrations making her twitch and gasp, her fingers finding your hair.

“fuck— baby, please…” she breathed, voice trembling as she pulled your head further into her cunt. you slipped two fingers inside her at the same time, curling upward slowly until her hips jumped. her walls clenched around you, wet and throbbing, and you fucked her with your fingers as your mouth kept working her clit.

she started falling apart fast, head tilted back against the tile, chest rising and falling with every shaky breath. you felt it in her thighs, in the way her hand couldn’t stop trembling in your hair, in the sharp, desperate sounds leaving her lips.

“oh my god—don’t stop, don’t stop—” she cried out, her legs tightening around you, her whole body lifting off the seat as she chased it. you didn’t let up, fingers thrusting deep, your mouth locked around her clit until she broke with a cry, her entire body shuddering with the force of her orgasm. her hips bucked, back arching, voice whiny and ragged as she came hard on your tongue.

you moaned at the taste of her and pulled away from her cunt, a string of both her cum and your saliva keeping your lips connected to her pussy. you slowed your fingers to a stop and placed them in your mouth, holding her gaze the entire time. paige watched with low eyes as you cleaned her off your fingers, a low groan falling from her lips. she pulled you up and kissed you—hard.

“we’re so doing that again.”

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

#m speaks #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers x fem!reader #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x fem!reader smut #sub!paige bueckers #dallas wings

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kaiist · 4 hours ago

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄

⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐄/𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐓

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

You wake up early, stretching lazily before grabbing Xavier’s hoodie from where it hangs on the rack like it’s routine. He’s still sleeping soundly as you slip out of the bedroom. The hoodie envelops you completely, sleeves hanging past your wrists, carrying his distinct, comforting scent.

In the kitchen, you prepare a simple breakfast for yourself, and a plate for Xavier that you know will likely go cold. The morning news plays quietly on the TV as you settle onto the couch, legs tucked underneath you, swimming in the soft fabric of his hoodie, feeling wrapped in Xavier’s presence despite his absence.

Movement catches your eye as Xavier appears in the doorway. His eyes find you immediately, taking in the sight of you wearing his clothing.

“Good morning,” you say, offering him his plate. “I made you breakfast.”

Xavier glances at the food but doesn’t take it. Instead, he shifts closer, arm sliding around your shoulders to pull you against his side. “Later,” he murmurs, his voice still rough with sleep.

His fingers trace absent patterns on your arm through the fabric of his hoodie, and you can feel him breathing in deeply, as if taking in the sight of you wrapped in something that belongs to him.

You nestle closer, and within minutes, his breathing becomes more even. Looking up, you find his eyes have drifted closed, his posture completely relaxed. You smile, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw. Even in sleep, his arm remains securely around you, keeping you close as if unwilling to let you go now that he’s found you this way—comfortable, content, and wrapped in his clothing.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

The mission had been longer than expected, and you’re exhausted as you make your way back home. Zayne had returned from his shift a few hours ago, and you’ve been looking forward to seeing him after days apart. You’re wearing his jacket—the black one with the subtle white trim that you’d taken from his closet before leaving. It’s become a comfort object during your mission, the lingering scent of his cologne providing reassurance during stressful moments.

You stop at the corner store for snacks before finally unlocking the apartment door. The place is quiet but warm as you kick off your shoes and pad toward the living room.

You find Zayne on the couch with journals spread around him. He looks up as you enter, his eyes immediately locking onto his jacket draped over your frame. Given his preference for professional coats, his collection of casual jackets and hoodies is small and meticulously maintained—making the absence of even one immediately noticeable to someone as detail-oriented as him.

“So that’s where it went,” he says. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he sets aside his work, creating space beside him.

You drop down next to him with a tired sigh. “Found me out.”

Zayne reaches out, fingers brushing against the collar of his jacket where it meets your neck. The touch is gentle, almost reverent. “It suits you better than me,” he murmurs.

His hand moves to your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side. “Next time,” he says, voice low near your ear, “take more than one. You know I don’t mind.”

His arm remains around you, a subtle but clear indication that while you may have his jacket, he’s pleased to have you.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

The gallery opening had been exhausting—too many people packed into too small a space, all of them wanting a piece of Rafayel’s attention. You’d smiled and nodded and played your part perfectly, but by the time you returned to his seaside home, you were completely drained.

Rafayel had stayed behind to handle some business with Thomas, insisting you go ahead without him. You’d grabbed one of his hoodies—the soft blue one with white pattern of waves—and changed into it the moment you got home. Now, curled up on the couch with the artsy duckie plushie he’d won for you clutched against your chest, you’d finally found peace in the quiet of the evening.

The sound of the door opening and closing barely registers as you drift between sleep and wakefulness. You vaguely hear the soft footsteps approaching, then a delighted sound that could only come from Rafayel.

“Oh, look at you,” he coos, his voice soft. “Absolutely precious.”

You hear the click of his phone camera and crack open one eye to see him standing above you, a fond expression on his face as he takes another photo to set it as his home screen later.

“Are you documenting my crime?” you mumble sleepily.

“I’m documenting perfection,” he corrects, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Move over a bit.”

You comply, and he squeezes onto the couch beside you, pulling you half onto his chest. His fingers thread through your hair, and you feel the tension in his body from the event slowly release.

“Did Thomas give you a hard time about leaving early?” you ask, voice muffled against the fabric of his shirt.

“Thomas always gives me a hard time,” Rafayel replies with a dismissive wave. “But I’d rather be here with you.”

You snuggle closer, the artsy duckie plushie squished between you, and feel him press a kiss to the top of your head as you both settle into the comfortable silence.

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

Snow falls in thick flakes outside the window, blanketing the forest view in pristine white. You stand before the floor-to-ceiling glass, mesmerized by the winter snow cascading from the gloomy sky. Sylus’s dark jacket envelops you like a protective shell, the sleeves long enough that you can curl your fingers into them. It smells like him—a blend of expensive cologne and something uniquely his—and wearing it feels almost like being wrapped in his embrace.

You’ve been standing there for nearly twenty minutes, lost in thought, when you hear the door to the residence open and close. You don’t turn, knowing exactly who it is from the footsteps entering the room.

“Enjoying the view?” Sylus asks, his voice closer than you expected.

You glance over your shoulder to find him watching you with an expression that makes your heart rate quicken. His eyes track from your face down to the jacket you’re wearing.

“It’s peaceful,” you reply, turning back to the window. “Everything looks so quiet from up here.”

“Indeed,” he agrees, though you can tell from his reflection in the glass that he’s not looking at the snow at all. He moves to sit behind you, close enough that you can feel his warmth. “Though I must say, my jacket looks better on you than it ever did on me.”

You smile, watching his reflection. “It’s warm.”

“If it’s warmth you’re seeking,” Sylus says, his hands coming to rest lightly on your shoulders, “perhaps I could offer something more comforting than a piece of fabric?”

You turn to face him, still wrapped in his jacket. “Is that an offer or a command?”

His lips curve into that familiar smirk as he pulls you closer. “With you? Always an offer.”

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

The DAA jacket is practically a relic now—Caleb hasn’t worn it in years, not since he became Colonel in the Farspace Fleet. But it still hangs in the closet of your shared place, and on the nights when he’s away on missions, you find yourself reaching for it.

Tonight is one of those nights. The bed feels too big, too empty without him, and the jacket is a poor substitute but better than nothing. You’ve wrapped yourself in it, breathing in the faint traces of his scent that somehow still cling to the fabric after all this time.

You’re reading through reports on your tablet when the door slides open unexpectedly. You look up, startled, to see Caleb standing in the doorway, still in his Fleet uniform, a day earlier than scheduled.

“Caleb! You weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow,” you say, sitting up straighter.

His eyes immediately zero in on the jacket you’re wearing, and a slow, teasing grin spreads across his face. “Well, well. What do we have here? A thief in the house?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “Hardly stealing when it’s been hanging untouched for years.”

Caleb fully enters the room and sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out to finger the fabric of the jacket’s collar. “I don’t know,” he says, voice dropping lower. “Looks like theft to me. I should probably report this.”

“I’ll give it back,” you offer, starting to shrug it off.

“Don’t you dare,” he says quickly, catching your hands with a grin. “It looks better on you anyway.” He pauses, then adds with mischief, “In fact, I think you should raid my entire closet. Take it all. Every last shirt and sock.”

You laugh, leaning forward to kiss him. “Welcome home, Caleb.”

“Home is wherever you are,” he replies, pulling you closer. “Stolen jacket and all.”

Based on this request.

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elumish · 3 days ago

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One of the really important things to keep in mind over the next decade or so is that it's much easier to destroy something than it is to build or rebuild it.

There are (at least) two things that are being lost when people leave the federal government in this way: manpower and technical ability/institutional knowledge.

To destroy something, you just need to get rid of enough of one or the other of those.

But to build or rebuild it, you need both--and often more than you needed to maintain it.

To do any sort of work you need both enough people and people with the right knowledge and expertise. Some people who left or were forced out and so already have that knowledge/expertise may be willing to come back, but a lot probably won't, because it's proven to be an insecure position. To train new people up to the level of competence you need, it requires enough staff who already have that level of competence already--and again, many of them were forced out.

And so you need to not only get enough people who are willing to work for the federal government after this administration but also get people who have the right technical expertise to do those jobs.

Federal contractors are also an option in some cases (assuming companies survive the current efforts to get rid of a lot of federal contracting), though there is work that contractors can't legally do, but contracting is also far more expensive than having federal employees, so now it's taking even more money to bring back the same capability.

If there was a digital system that was taken offline, it will be more expensive and time consuming to bring it back online than it would have been to just maintain it in the first place.

And every single program that has been shut down or office that has been decimated is going to face these same sorts of issues. In some ways, it will be worse than trying to build them from scratch, because the federal government was already aggressively understaffed, and now a lot of the trust that a federal job is a secure/safe one is gone.

So yeah, don't expect an immediate reversion to the level of functionality we had before January 2025, much less an improvement. This is going to be a long, slow road. And it's not the fault of the people on the ground doing the work.

Hey. Look at me. Please leave yourself a note somewhere you'll see it later that says "it is going to take years if not decades to get the United States government to the level of functionality it had in November of 2024." If we elect a democrat in 2028, we are not going to be up and running by 2032.

Please make sure you have a reminder in your phone reminding you to not look at 2028/32/36 Democratic candidates and say "why are they not promising/delivering Cool Shit?" because you are going to understand that to get Cool Shit we must have competent people running a decently funded government, and we are not going to have that.

We are not getting UBI. We are not getting single payer healthcare. We are not getting free college or free preschool. We are not redistributing wealth on a large scale. We are not getting free internet. We are not getting ranked choice voting.

If we are lucky, we are going to get an IRS that can collect taxes, qualified schoolteachers, research grants, Social Security, and a government that thinks maybe it should be a priority for people around the worlds to not have AIDS, malaria or TB.

#us politics

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realcube · 1 day ago

Text

AT THE SAME DAMN TIME!

hot w/ hq duos! (pt 2)

ft.. ushijima + tendou // kuroo + kenma // kageyama + sugawara // bokuto + atsumu + sakusa // matsukawa + hanamaki

tws & tags.. nsfw minors dni. threeways (mmf). fourway (mmmf). specific warnings before each.

note.. click here for part one.

★ USHIJIMA + TENDOU

tw & tags.. vaginal, praise, begging, size kink, implied sex worker ! reader

it may have taken a decade, but the oppertunity finally arises wherein ushijima is able to visit tendou in paris. that's not to say they haven't seen in each other in ten years, but due to ushijima's commitments and contracts with the schweiden adlers, he is very bound to japan even during his time-off, which is why tendou most often flies home for them to meet.

however, ushijima eventually managed to arrange a trip to france. tendou showed him around the city, and most importantly, the chocolaterie he opened. he worked for an employer for seven years before he opened up a shop of his own; his pride and joy, and it was currently performing very well, business-wise. ushijima was more than impressed by his old friend.

while planning the journey, ushijima was going to book a hotel but tendou urged him not to waste his money, stating that his penthouse has a spare room for wakatoshi to sleep in. he embraced tendou's kind offer, and hence, at the end of their first day in paris together, ushijima joined tendou as they travelled back to his apartment.

what he wasn't expecting though, was a random woman roaming around the penthouse when they arrived. tendou didn't seem jarred or disturbed by your presense, so ushijima assumed your weren't an intruder. but equally, you weren't cleaning or cooking, so you couldn't be hired help. did tendou have a girlfriend he failed to mention?

when he turned to his friend to question your occupany in his apartment, tendou explained that he gets quite lonely while in paris — far away from his family and most of his friends — so he pays someone to keep him company. and you do your job very well, keeping him warm inside and out.

ushijima is still quite confused by his friend's explanation, so tendou suggests a demonstration.

though, tendou knows yourtimid and don't like visitors or guests — and hence his nickname for you: 'moody kitty' — so it takes some convincing, but you eventually agree.

your bent over the crytsal top coffee table, with your face and tits smushed against its cool surface while ushijima and tendou, stood next to each other, take turns ploughing into from behind. your skirt has been ripped off, so your bare ass and glistening pussy are on full display to both of them.

currently tendou is balls-deep inside you, sloppily rutting into your cunt over and over, while his familiar, slender fingers rub your folds and tormet your sensitive clit. your melodious moans ring throughout the room and highly overpower his low grunts that emit from his gut with each sporadic thrust. "mph, what a pretty, pretty kitty." he muses. "you've got nothing to be shy about. wakatoshi thinks your sexy too, right?"

"yes." he replies bluntly. ushijima stands aside and strokes his cock, mesmerised by the way your perky ass bounces and your entire perfect body quivers around tendou's dick. meanwhile, tendou doesn't seem to care about the fact he's got your brain fried from his tip repeatedly bumping your cervix. he just continued to rut into you, despite how your twitching figure and squelching pussy indicate that you can't take much more.

"ngh, fuck, sa— hah, satori! too much.." you whine against the table, the beads of saliva forming at corner of your mouth, sticking to the table, "m' so close!"

usually that would be a trigger for tendou to fuck you even harder, but in this instance, it reminds him that he has a guest present and signals that it is time for you to switch handler. "mmh, sorry about this, sugar.. you know i love to see your pretty pussy cum but.." without warning, he jerks himself out and motions for ushijima to take his place. "wakatoshi's turn now, princess. ya ready?"

you gasp at the unexpected action; your entire body suddering at how the cold air floods your previously conjested pussy. the burning sensation in your abdomen momentarily dies down, but it's short-lived, as the gape is soon filled by ushijima bullying his fat cock into your soaked cunt.

thankfully, tendou's actions and foreplay has made you sufficiently wet and lubricated, otherwise there would be no way in hell he'd be able to fit that monster dick inside your tight hole. even you laid there, shocked that it was fully inside you, as you could feel the way it protrudes from your tummy and pushes against your walls.

"mmph, too big! too full.. i can't!" you mewl, clawing at the smooth glass surface of the table to cope with the deliciously agonising stretch of your cunt. while ushijima and tendou simply pass entertained smirks to each other at your sweet cries.

"yes, you can, kitty. don't be shy." tendou purrs while stroking your plump ass, almost patronisingly. "be a good girl for wakatoshi like you are with me. show him how well-bahaved you are. c'mon, he doesn't bite."

ushijima does far worse than bite. you most definitely weren't ready for the way he fucked you. it was like you were being repeatedly impladed, yet somehow it was the best thing you've ever experienced. he had your eyes rolling back in your head and your tongue shamelessly hanging out from your mouth.

meanwhile, an entirely amused tendou slithers under the glass coffee table and lays on his back. that way, when he looks up, he can fuck his fist to the sight of your obscene facial expressions as you get your guts rearranged by his friend.

a smirk flickers over his lips, "not so shy anymore, are we, princess?"

you can't even pretend to grant his question with a sarcastic response as your mind can't even begin to form a coherent thought, from the way ushijima's bulbous tip tortures your g-spot. his dick raking against your spongy walls over and over until they are woefully sore from having to swallow him again and again.

since you were already high from sex with tendou, less than a minute with ushijima's dick inside your pussy already had you begging for a sweet release, "p-please! it's too much.." you cry, steaming up the glass under you with your hot breath, " 'm, ahh!— gunna cum!"

tendou's face burns as his hand furiously tugs at his cock, your gorgeous face and tits serving as perfect jerk material — not to mention your pornographic moans and drenched noises from your poor cunt. "nuh-uh, (y/n). can't cum til you ask wakatoshi for permission." he coos, meeting your lust-clouded gaze from beneath the glass — he can tell how badly you need to finish but unfortunately he loves teasing you even more. "c'mon. be good n' ask. use your words, kitty."

stringing together an intelligble sentence felt like an impossible task, but as you squeezed your eyes shut, and tensed your cunt around wakatoshi's lethal dick — relentless slamming into your pussy, you somehow manage to choke out, "mmmph, please, ushi— hah, fuck!" you spluttered, barely completing two words before an overwhelming surge of bliss overcame you again, throwing you off. but you found it in you to persevere, "can i cum? please can i finish?" you hastily breath out your inquiry as if it were all one word. your chest pressing against the glass with each deep breath you heave while stifling your impending orgasm.

ushijima continues his rythmic pace, his dick throbbing with in the confines of your homey walls as he feels his own climax fast-approaching. ".. yeah." he grunts.

but now it is your turn to shock him. as soon as merely utters the golden word, your cunt immediately clamps down on him, as you let your fiery high blissfully roll over you and totally embody the lust brimming in your abdomen.

and due to this, you even elicit a quiet groan from ushijima as he succumbs to his own climax and fires his hearty load into your hole. it's the best he's every had; he lets his vision glaze over as he's transported elsewhere. somewhere hot and soft. as he revels in the way your convulsing cunt desperately milks him dry, as though it were trying to savour every last drop of his precious seed.

even once you're both done, and you start coming down from your high, he remains buried in your snug cunt. he can't bring himself to pull out.

while ushijima stands there panting, tendou takes a break from pleasuring himself to crawl out from under the table to stand at the opposite end of the coffee table, where your face is. "how's that? good, isn't she?" tendou chuckles at his typically stoic friend appearing to visibly fucked-out.

wakatoshi nods breathlessly.

tendou hums in agreement as he slips his fingers under your chin to prop it up, as he uses his other hand to manoeuvre his cock into your glistening lips. he gazes down at you, and smiles warmly as you obidiently accept his length into your mouth, "she's perfect."

★ KUROO + KENMA

tw & tags.. power dynamics, inappropriate workplace relations, cockwarming, meanie! kenma, degredation, slight analplay, praise, handjobs, good cop/bad cop

kuroo and kenma have important work to do. recently, bouncing ball corp and it's affiliates have signed a contact to run a major event with the japanese volleyball association, led by yours truly. hence, there was less than a week less until the event and still mass amounts of work needing done.

there were heaps of paper work in kenma's office that required filing, while kuroo had thousands of emails to respond to and marketing to clear as head of the jva promotional division. together they decided that they needed to tackle this backlog head-on and pull an all-nighter together at kenma's office in tokyo. there they could have peace and quiet to simply focus on all the duties that required their attention.

they begun work at around 9AM and kept going until 5PM. then they took a one hour dinner break before resuming the grind. however, they ran out of steam again at around midnight, despite the multiple coffees and energy drinks they had gone through.

something stronger was nessecary to keep them focussed. and thankfully kenma had just the thing.

his cute secretary usually clocked out at 5PM but kenma was weary of the fact him and kuroo were going to stay late today, so he scheduled you a night shift instead.

kuroo was skeptical at how a secretary would be able to help with their workload, but he kept his inquires to himself while kenma summoned you to the office.

you arrived around ten minutes afer he texted you, and when kuroo laid eyes on you, it was like he had been instantly awoken, but mostly below the belt. the way your white blouse clung to your alluring figure, and your skirt was inappropriately tight and he could leer over every curve of your perky ass.

"ten minutes? what the hell.." kenma chides, but with a lot less force than usual — he's too tired to spank you like he usually does.

"sorry! i fell asleep at my desk again.." you clasp your hands together and apologise profusely, "i am really sorry. i put a special ringtone for your texts too that's really loud but i still slept through it.."

"again.. do i need a shock collar or something?" he stresses, fidgeting with the pen in his hand as he slouches against his desk. "or how about a vibrator? and i can keep the controller for it."

you blush at the idea, and kuroo is also thoroughly scandalised upon hearing the way kenma talks to his assistant. surely that violates lots of workplace harassment laws, he thinks to himself. however, his view will change once he starts to understand the special nature of the relationship you have with your boss.

"kenma, be nice." he comments. but kenma just rolls his eyes.

"this is kuroo, the head of the promotional divison at the jva." he introduces you to kuroo, then does the reverse, "and this is my secretary, (y/n)." his head snaps back round to glare daggers at you, "be polite, (y/n). don't embarrass me."

you nod nervously under his piercing amber scrutiny and rush over to shake kuroo's hand. "hi, nice to meet you, sir." you splutter.

kuroo smiles up at you warmly, "nice to meet you too." he's got a strong grip but you don't let go until he does first. then, you glance back at kenma for his approval, but all you see is him motioning for you to come closer to him.

which you do, wordlessly. once you are within arms-length, he yanks you forwards and pulls your skirt up, revealing your supple ass and your black thong. "you call that underwear? that's dental floss, slut.."

he spreads your cheeks and runs his slender fingers over your cute asshole, entranced by the way it subtly quivers at his cold touch. "kenma.. stop.." you whine, and kuroo watches in dismay as this happens.

little does he know, you are completed accustomed to and accepting of kenma's perverted antics. you're just a lil' shy when it comes to ass stuff. but even then, you have a safe word with kenma and it certainly isn't 'stop'. kuroo is too horrified (and turned-on) to utter a single word. he's petrified.

kenma lets go of your ass and for moment kuroo believes he has come to his senses, until kenma commands in a low voice, "strip." then kuroo's jaw virtually falls to the floor. and he's even more shocked when you actually do it.

they both watch intently as you sensually pull your skirt down then follow it up by tugging your panties off to reveal your entire ass and pussy. you also unbutton your blouse, then undo your bra and let your tits fall out. your nipples visibly pebbled and erect due to the cold air. and finally, you slip your heels off and shuffle awkwardly in place, awaiting further instruction.

midway through your little show, kenma begins to pull his trousers down to free hardened length. when he holds it in his hand, he doesn't even need to say a word, he just gazes up at you with that risque glint in his eye and you are already trained on what to do next.

usually he'll suck your clit a bit first or play with your nipples to dampen you enough to take his cock, but he hasn't this time, hence you especially struggle to sink down on him. but being the helpful man he is, he pushes you down by the shoulders until your sat nicely on his lap and he is balls-deep inside you.

"nngh, kenma, hurts.." you stutter, your nails digging into the thick material of his shirt. your growing increasing wet by the second, your juices even dripping down his shaft, but that hardly takes away from the strain on your walls.

"of course it does.." he mutters, picking up his pen in one hand and resting the other on the small of your back. "just stay put, okay?"

at some point during that suspicious encounter, kuroo was able to put the pieces together and realised that your relationship might not be entirely professional, like he had initially thought. which was a relief; he worried he was going to have to file an urgent report to HR about his childhood best friend.

"kuroo.." kenma spoke softly, "come over."

kuroo was unsure at first, but perhaps it was due the growing tent in his pants, or maybe his lust-clouded judgement, but he gave minimal resistance before he stood up from his chair, and dragged it over to kenma's side of the desk.

he then took a seat again, but right beside you and kenma. your face was hooked over kenma's shoulder, nuzzling into his bleached hair, while kuroo admired your naked figure, tenderly tracing your exposed spine with the pads of his fingers.

despite this attention, you paid no mind to kuroo whatsoever, causing a gasp to be ripped from your throat when kenma smacks your plump ass. "(y/n), what did i say about being polite?"

you pout at his harsh words then turn to kuroo with glossy eyes, who can only dote over your adorable expression. he cups your cheek in his hands and coos, "aw, don't be so mean to the pretty girl, kenma." he directs his first comment at his friend, then the latter at you, "you're tired, sweet thing, aren't you?"

you nod at his understanding, then nuzzle into his neck instead. he chuckles at this, "yeah? we're all sleepy, huh." you quickly realise he's more buff than kenma, from the way his muscles flex against your skin as he rubs your back. also, he smells like a man; an expensive man. you don't know what cologne he's wearing but it's intoxicating and so romantic.

kuroo starts to undo his fly and pull his cock out from the parition in the fabric of his trousers, but kenma — cold stare not averting from the paperwork in front of him — is quick to warn, "careful. she's a messy slut." he accenuates his point by shifitng his spare hand from the small of your back to under your ass, where he lift you slightly to reveal the creamy ring of essence you've left at his base.

kuroo, opting to save his trousers from being soiled, pulls them down to his knees. "not a slut," kuroo correct gently, as he works on freeing his dick from his briefs, "just excited."

you nod, gaze dropping to watch kuroo rub his long, exposed shaft. his other hand toys with your nipple, playfully but firm enough that it forces your body to face him. he huffs a chuckle at the way you gawk at his impressive length, "think you can help me out too, beautiful?"

"mhm." your hand wanders over his beefy thigh before you fingers cautiously wrap around his cock. his fierce eyes are fixed to you with a glaring precion, soaking up your every move. from the way your bare tits sway as you lean forward, or how you swallow a lump in your throat formed due to kenma cock still nestled up within your walls.

once you have him fully in your grip, you begin to pump his cock gently — stroking it, more than anything. and kuroo lets out a satisfied sigh at the stimulation. however, kenma must have misinterpreted it as a sigh of frustration, as he urges you, "(y/n), go faster. why're you being so lazy today?"

kuroo shakes his head, relaxing back into his chair, and holding your face into his neck by cradling your head. "it's fine, kenma. she's doing perfect." he reassures, pressing a benign peck on your temple, smiling into your skin, "you're too harsh."

kenma rolls his eyes, not averting his feline eyes from the work afore him even once, "she's not your secretary; i know she can do better." kenma argues, in his signature monotone, on accentuated by his tired voice, "maybe you're just too nice to whores."

"awh, don't listen to kenma, sweetheart. you're not a whore." he musues, admiring the way your pretty hands tug at his dick, and how your gorgeous naked body looks sprawled out across him and kenma. he could just eat you up; starting with those cute tits. "maybe you should come back to the jva headquarters with me. i have a lot of things i could use your help with."

"stop that." kenma spits.

kuroo titters at his half-assed attempt to poach his friend's secretary, then leans forward so he can reach his laptop. the rest of the night goes on like this, with kenma's cock planted inside your pussy, and kuroo occasionally grunting under his breath while you stroke him at a very mild rate. it's awfully intimate, and although you anticipate the encounter will escelate once kuroo and kenma finish their work, unfortunately you all fall asleep before that happens. and the janitor has a nasty surprise when he walks in on you all in that position.

★ KAGEYAMA + SUGAWARA

tws & tags.. oral (m receiving) , tit jobs, rough sex, handjob, sex worker! reader, degredation, praise and general messiness

the schweiden adlers scheduled a practise match against another team in their base location, and even though kageyama didn't anyone to watch, sugawara heard about the match through the grapevine and decided to attend — since he was in the area and had the day off work — in order to surprise and show support for an old friend.

suga appears in the stands with only around thirty other people watching, since it was only a practise match. around halfway through the game, kageyama noticed his familiar face in the small crowd, and they briefly flashed each other smiles of acknowledgement.

after the match, suga approached kageyama and they caught up a little bit. talking about what they've been doing since graduation and how things have been going in their personal lives. their conversation was cut short though as kageyama was being urged to shower and change out of his jersey by his coach, and suga happily offered to walk with him to the changing room.

as they walked through the hallways of the sports centre, they continued their idle chatter. suga brought up, "being a professional volleyball must be stressful, huh?"

"eh. not really." kageyama shrugged.

"huh?! seriously?! i mean, i work at an elementary school and i'm stressed out, like, all the time. i've already started finding grey hairs!" suga explains frantically, "so, i have no idea how you cope as a volleyball player. when there's so much pressure for you to perform well at matches, in front of millions of people."

kageyama is a bit perplexed by the 'grey hairs' comment, but he glosses over that and instead replies, "i guess it is a lot of pressure sometimes. but i deal with it pretty well."

"how?" suga asks desperately, anticipating kageyama to introduce him to some sort of intricate zen technique, or a life-changing diet regime. and naturally he was extremely disappointed when tobio responds with,

"there's a janitor at home base who gives blowjobs for ¥4000."

suga simply stares with his mouth hung agape, astounded. taking bjs off some old crusty janitor was not the solution he was seeking at all. however, kageyama must've interpreted his stunned silence as curiosity, as he added, "c'mon, i'll show you." as he makes a b-line down some random hallway, which was clearly not the direction they were meant to go in for the changing rooms, and suga has no choice but to follow him as he can't navigate through this building on his own.

albeit, he makes his intentions very clear as he marches after kageyama, "i'm not going to pay some random guy for a service like that. and you shouldn't be doing that either, it's messed u—" as he drones on, kageyama halts outside a random door and knocks on it, and suga is left truly speechless when the door creaks open and stood there is you in your tight-fitting janitors outfit.

suddenly, suga was reaching into his wallet to see if he had ¥4000 on him.

after an awkward interaction (followed by a smooth monetary transaction), your kneeled down in the janitor's cupboard with suga and kageyama stood in front of you. your bare chest was exposed but you kept your pants on, unlike the two of them who were eager to jam their dicks down your pretty throat.

kageyama was as rough as usual, making full use of your hair in order to maneuver you around to his will, forcing you to deepthroat his cock when he felt like it. "just like that, fuck. keep fuckin' going." he'd heave angrily, brows furrowed together in hedonistic fury.

he loved seeing the imprint of his dick in your neck, or against your puffy cheeks. and the way your eyes would screw shut whenever you got a taste of his bitter precum that would seep onto your tongue as you sucked. "better not stop.."

sugawara was far more adept at feigning kindness. he wouldn't grip your hair the way kageyama would, no, whenevr he wanted your attention, he'd gently cup your chin and guide it so you were gazing up at him. but it was all an act really, because he was far more perverted than kageyama every was. like a wolf in sheep's clothing.

whenever you were pleasing tobio, suga would lean over and fondle your tits while you'd pump his cock. he'd tug and pinch at your hardened nipples and smirk devilishly whenever he'd get any reaction from you. and he was up for far more than bjs, he'd bend his knees slightly so his dick slid perfectly between your tits, and when you'd press your girls together, he audibly groaned at the soft sensation.

through heavy lidded eyes you met the doting hazel stare of suga, who smiles down at you, "you're so pretty.." he muses, leaning over to cup your cheek in his hand, gently grazing your burning skin with his thumb. "such soft tits. you're a dream, dear." the kindness was foreign to you, thus you smiled up at him, while he continued to drag his dick between your tits, bumping your chin occassionally.

kageyama was quick to notice that your mouth was currently unoccupied, and hence seized the oppertunity to snap your head round towards him by your hair, causing you to yelp. "go on," he urged, guiding his cock back to your closed mouth and tapping his leaky tip against your lips, "get to work. swallow it, slut." he growled, a mocking smirk playing on his features.

tobio wasn't usually so forceful with you. he was abrasive, sure, but never rude. there was something different about him today, but admittedly, you kinda enjoyed it. the sinister glint in his ocean eyes caused a canal of heat to stir in your core, and pool in your panties, as you gazed up at him and obidently accepted his length back into your adoring mouth. all while sugawara was still thrusting his dick between your plush tits.

you pushed them together even further, causing a stifled whimper to be pulled from suga. "uhh— that's perfect, angel. thank you — acht, so much." he heaves, unable to suppress a delighted grin at your adorable little face, all stuffed with kageyama's cock, and your gorgeous tits which engulf him so well. "you're too good at that.."

kageyama's cock is shoved virgously down your throat, and he basically uses your mouth as his very own fleshlight. piloting your movements with his fist balled up in your hair, as his hips rock against your sloppy mouth. "heh, you look like a fuckin' whore like this." he blabbers through gritted teeth, "shit- might be cause you are one." and you can tell by the way his grin disappated and his eyes grow watery that he's getting close to his high.

but suga beats him at the chase, as his dick twitches against your chest and before you are given any time to prepare, he unloads his seed between your tits. and being the kind woman you are, you use your hands to push them together to keep his cock wrapped up tight as he climaxes, even if that means your entire chin, neck and tits are all coated in a layer of his semen.

he's got quite a hefty load, and he only pulls away once you are thoroughly painted. his eyes were screwed shut while he came, but once he is able to pry one open and look at the sticky mess he has made of you, he can't help but snicker to himself. "acht, sorry, angel. i've made an awful mess of you, haven't i?" he hums, talking to you in a disturbingly clement tone, "don't worry, it'll be easy to clean. we are in a janitor's cupboard, there should be something that could wi—"

"don't. she looks hot like this." kageyama states bluntly. during sugawara's orgasm, kageyama mercifully reduced his pace and allowed you to slowly bob back and forth on his length and lick his shaft. but not to make it easier for you or anything, of course not; it just happened naturally as kageyama was more entertained by watching sugawara cover you with his hot cum. it was so filthy.

"hah, look like even more of a whore now. covered in cum." kageyama huffed out a chuckle and began to increase the rate at which he was thrusting his cock into your mouth, with such intensity it was such to leave your lips bruised. "bet you like that, don't you? don't you?"

"mmph!" was all you were able to respond as kageyama frantically slammed you against his cock over and over, right until his thick cum unexpectedly shot down your throat. warm and suffocating, threatening to stick to the walls of your throat if you don't swallow it all — so you do, tentatively.

meanwhile, kageyama and suga's eyes did not part from you, not once. "yeah, drink it all up." kageyama groans, stumbling in place from his euphoric high, "savour it and don't miss any. not a drop."

you choke it all down like he orders, then open your mouth to show the proof. kageyama exhales in satisfaction, while sugawara pats your head, "wow, what a good girl, eh?"

you nod, pleased with your work, and believing that the session was coming to a close, you are about to stand upright from your knelt position on the floor, until suga uses his hand on your head to push you back down. "not so fast, angel. you're not done quite yet." he sings, reaching for his wallet which he sat on one of your shelves, "there's another ¥8000 in it for you if you want to go again."

you press your lips together and furrow your brows contemplatively. it's a tricky decision, and suga can detect your hesitancy, and thus he attempts to further persuade you, "c'mon, i think you'd look so pretty covered with some more of our cum, eh?"

★ MATSUKAWA + HANAMAKI

tws & tags.. analplay, vaginal, fingering, shower sex and just general pervertedness.

what you did not realise was that becoming matsukawa's girlfriend and moving in with him and hanamaki meant you were signing up be a live-in sex doll for both of them. and they were so so mean to you.

despite still living together, you didn't quite grasp how close they were prior to moving in together. they were certainly a dynamic duo. it's like you couldn't even have sex with just matsukawa anymore, it always had to be a threeway. which you didn't mind at first because double penetration is always fun, but it often gets to a point where you are so overstimulated, you can no longer tell if the cock stuffed balls-deep into your mouth is your boyfriend's, or someone else's. and the copious amount of cum dribbling out of your ass might've been his too.

and they weren't just meanies in bed either. matsukawa had a fasination with your tits and would pinch your nipples or tug at them while you were trying to cook dinner — or when you were trying to do anything in peace, really. hanamaki was more of an ass man, but when it came to you, he was just an all-round provoker. whenever you wore a skirt he'd always try to pinch your clit or tease your pussy in any way he could. it drove you crazy but you also loved it.

and it was impossible to escape them either, since there was usually always at least one of them in the house. and they were both constantly on. you can't even watch a movie together in peace; when you are at the most climactic part, and you assume they are both super absorbed into the film, they'll both start trying to finger your holes out of nowhere.

hell, you can't shower alone any more, they need to insert themselves in there too. even if they just had a shower that same morning.

so, here you all are together, squeezed into the one shower cubicle because they can't seem to seperate themselves from you for twenty minutes. you're all nude and pressed up against each; mattsun is standing in front of you, facing you and rubbing shampoo into your hair, while hanamaki is stood behind you, his erect cock sliding betwen your plump thighs.

you smile into your boyfriend's buff chest, as he caresses shampoo into your scalp, while you work on exfoliating your arms. he chuckles at the sensation and tilts your head up so he can press a long, sensual kiss upon your lips, which you happily return.

as your lips intimately weave together, you feel one of soap hands attach itself your tit and begin fondling it. you can't help but giggle at how typical that is, but you keep kissing and allow him to continue, as he still uses his other hand to massage your scalp. "got such cute tits, baby." he groans against your lips.

"you say that all the time.." you whine, and he only laughs.

"'cos it's true." he briefly pinches your nipple, causing you to mewl, "they're perfect. you're perfect, (y/n). got the best body i've every seen." his kisses trail from the corner of your lips to your jaw, to your neck, until your head is tossed back and you're moaning as he sucks deep hickeys into your skin. now his grip on your head is just being used to keep you close.

"barf." hanamaki grunts to himself while rolling his eyes. he was originally lathering shower gel on your back, be he seems to have descended to massaging your ass cheeks.

you cry even louder as matsukawa's fingers travel from your tits to between your thighs. he toys around with your labia and aggressively rubs your clit a little to warm you up, but due to all the lubrication from the shower, he doesn't need to wait long before he is able to slip his two digits right up your pleading enterance. "nghh— issei, don't stop, please!"

"i won't, baby. this desperate cunt need me that bad, huh?" his mouth frees itself from your neck, leaving marks that will surely blossom into pigmented hickeys by the morning, and he begins to kiss you again. but this time much more feverishly, shoving his tongue into your mouth and grinding your bodies against each other as he rapidly fingers you.

your legs even part slightly to grant him more access, and he takes this as a sign to speed up. lethally thrusting into your pussy and curling his digits against your spongy, sensitive walls until your basically sobbing for mercy into the kiss. "ahh— fuck, issei. 'ts too good! faster, faster please, issei! i need you.."

"course you need me, baby." his honeyed words are hot against your earlobe, "who else is going to fuck this greedy pussy everyday, huh? tell me." naturally, one of your legs ended up hooked around his hips; not only to increase the closeness but also so he could reach your g-spot with ease. however, hanamaki interpretted that as an oppertunity for himself. you paid no mind at all when you heard him getting on his knees behind you, no, you were far too involved with the wet make-out session with your boyfriend and the way he expert finger slid feverishly in and out of your cunt.

but you had no choice but to notice his actions when you felt hanamaki's tongue worm into your tight ass. instinctually you jerked away from the kiss to gasp and writhe at the strange sensation, but matsukawa held you very still in his strong arms.

"awh, baby, what's wrong?"

it didn't take a genius to figure out what his friend was doing to you, and he couldn't help but be entertained by it. the way your little face screwed up at the intrusion yet he could tell your eyes glinted with excitement at the foreign sensation. your even bit down harshly on your bottom lip as though you were trying to prevent your tongue rolling out and giving away how much you truly liked it. so fucked out you couldn't even respond to his simple question.

"look at that face. aren't you just the cutest thing?" he swiped one of his soapy hands across your nose, leaving a trail of foam in it's wake. not that you cared, you were too overcome by the feeling of hanamaki's tongue gliding in and out of your ass, and his soft lips working expertly against your puckered hole. "feel good, baby? want more?"

you hesitated, looking up at your boyfriend with a slight grimace, and he contiued, "no point in lyin'. i can see it all over your face. you like it, dont you? you don't need to be ashamed, pretty girl. we're here to take care of you, okay?" he got increasingly closer to your face as he spoke, and at the end of his question, he locked his lips with yours. and kissed back, despite the shrieks caged at the base of your throat from how good hanamaki's mouth was making you feel. in tandem with your boyfriend's fingers still sloppily thrusting into your messy cunt.

when hanamaki eventually pulled out, you were only spared a momentarily rest, as the power of matsukawa's fingers was growing by the second. perhaps you had been given relief from the tongue inserted into your hole, but the force of matsukawa's fingering was ready to lead you to your climax at any moment. and you were moaning desperately and frantically against his lips in preparation. "issei, please, please! 'm so close, fuck me faster. please, issei."

meanwhile, hanamaki had grown painfully bored. it wasn't fair that his friend got all of you attention — and why? just because the two of you were dating? rubbish.

he thought maybe while in the shower he should focus on cleaning himself. he searched for a bar of soap, then a luffa. during which, he saw one of those luffa's attached to stick hanging from the shower caddy. the stick part was likely to aid in the luffa reaching one's back, but it gave him a bright idea.

he reached over and grabbed it. and just as your insides were ready to spill all over your boyfriend's fingers stuffed into your pussy, hanamaki jams the handle right up your tight asshole. as much of the length as he could manage in one push.

"takahiro!" you squeal, your voice echoing off the walls of the shower as you finally come undone over your boyfriend's fingers. your own fluids ejecting from your pussy mixing in with the lukewarm water already dripping all down your legs.

"takahiro?" matsukawa defensively jerks his fingers straight out of your pussy upon hearing you call his friend's name instead of his own. "who has been fucking your cunt this whole time?" he argues, completely oblivious to what is going on behind the scenes.

"you like that, (y/n)?" hanamaki muses cockily, toying with the stick a tiny bit. observing how moving it only slightly would elicit such large reactions from you. "want my dick in there too? huh?"

"what?" matsukawa snips.

★ BOKUTO + ATSUMU + SAKUSA

tws & tags.. oral (m + f receiving), anal, breeding kink, impact play, rough sex, degredation, praise, squirting. won't make sense unless you read part one.

sakusa subconsciously twitches at the delicious sight of you completely bare, bent over in front of bokuto, and your glossy lips wrapped firmly around the base of atsumu's cock.

invited into the ordeal, regularly he'd turn his nose up at something like and scornfully report the indecency to the coach, but there was just something so alluring about you in this state. that's how his legs moved on their own to carry him towards your body, specifically situating himself beside bokuto and promptly kneeling down.

as he does so, his eyes are lasered to your gorgeous, gently shivering body, all bare and exposed for them. his gaze is especially stuck to your pretty, glistening cunt, currently stuffed with bokuto's beefy cock and drooling around it.

bokuto and atsumu are both in a state of shock. they're still out of breath as they were coming down from their imminent, unfulfilled orgasms, due to sakusa's rude interuption. but they can't find it in themselves to be mad or frustrated. in fact, they briefly share a look of relief with each other, due to sakusa opting to join their little tryst instead of rebuking them for it.

however, evidently some shuffling needs to be done in order to accommodate for sakusa's desires. he's on his knees beside bokuto, clearly wanting to get a taste of your pretty pussy (thankfully before it was soiled with bokuto's cum.) so bokuto, very kindly, pulls out with a lewd squelching noise, to allow kiyoomi to shuffle over between your legs so his head aligns with your cunt.

"you okay if kiyoomi joins in, baby?" atsumu asks mockingly while stroking your hair, snickering when your reply is entirely muffled by his cock stuffed in your mouth.

"she doesn't mind, do ya?" bokuto asks rhetorically, grabbing a joyous fistful of your ass as he does so. "this pussy's wet enough for all of us, huh?"

"yeah, you're a brave girl, you can handle three guys, right?" atsumu looks down at you with a condescending smirk, as he strokes your head with his thumb, "we'll be gentle with this delicate body, promise."

"you know we take good care of ya." bokuto smiles, holding his cock which has been smeared with your fluids. not that he minds, only makes it easier for him to relocate and slip it straight into your tight ass, along with the subtle forewarning, "incoming." before he jams it right into you.

atsumu laughs as he watches you eyes screw shut and your mouth twitches around his dick. "that hurt, baby?" he teases, not expecting a response. he can read it all by the mere expression on your face. it was the most sultry agony, the congestive sensation created a infectious pleasure that pervaded your entire nude body. every inch of your exposed flesh pricked in delight at how bokuto's fat length felt in your snug ass.

"shit, she's tight.." bokuto gritted, barely leaving you with any time to adjust before he automatically began rolling his hips against your ass, "don't think you'll ever pull me out of her.." he panted with a ghost of a smile.

the pace began to pick up, in every hole. atsumu held your face in place as he always did, while he fucked into it. while bokuto marvelled in the newly discovered sensation, groaning uncontrollably while slowly thrusting into your pristine asshole — very sedate and savouring every inch of you.

the new addition, sakusa, was planted between your legs. his big hand captured your thigh to hold it in place and ensure your legs were sufficiently parted. his thumb dug into your supple skin while his other hand worked at your folds, spreading them wide so he could admire your splayed pussy for a moment. then, he buried the flat of his tongue deep against your labia, and pressed his lips against your cunt — exploring your pussy thoroughly with just his mouth, investigating every dip and lapping at each part.

he was quick to locate your sensitive nub and paid it all sorts of attention: from vibrating his tongue against it to sucking on it to kissing it tenderly. all of which caused you to whine as atsumu continued to shove his cock down your throat.

"fuck— ki— mmph, kiyoomi, what're you doing t'her?" he grunted, tossing his head back from the way your mouth reverberated around his dick. "the bitch won't shut the fuck up— mgh, that slutty mouth."

sakusa didn't answer. though you did feel him smile against your juicy cunt. this confirmation was enough to persuade him to venture further. his furious make-out session with your damp pussy was halted when he abruptly chose to dive inside your hole, swiftly shoving his tongue past your entrance and worming around in your homey walls. all while his lips still moved against your puffy folds.

since he had been teetering on the edge of an orgasm right before sakusa had entered the changing room, it wasn't long before atsumu's pumping into your mouth became sporadic, and he began to lose stamina, due to his impending climax clouding his mind and draining his energy. "ah, shit, baby. you've got me so close; so god damn close. finish me off quick and i won't make a mess all in this pretty hair, mkay?" he joked (or at least, you hoped he was joking.)

"y-yeah, me too.." and bokuto was the same, although since your clenched little asshole was basically suckling on his cock, his pace had steadily been far more relaxed, holding onto your plush ass cheeks while he leisurely dragged his cock from and into your hole, exhibiting a prolonged groan each time. "shit.. look, your ass won't let go of my cock. hah, guess i gotta cum inside. you don't mind, do ya, (y/n)?"

"nah, she's used to being our cumdump." atsumu huffed a chuckle.

"damn right she is." bokuto panted with a harsh slap on your ass, causing you to clamp down on his cock which pried a stifled whimper from him. "shit." he cursed under this breath.

the bubbling pool of hot liquid within in your stomach was also growing exponentially every passing second. you were just so full; stuffed to the brim with appendages jammed into each of your pleading, desperate holes. there was no breathing room left. bokuto's monster cock was forced so far up your ass that you were left straining to try fit him all inside, a lewd stretch of your hole each time he'd push into you. along with atsumu's length, which required you to deep-throat whenever he carelessly shoved it as deep as he could physically manage.

at the cherry on top was sakusa's expert tongue rummaging around your spongy insides as though he searching for something. and he was, and you had hell to pay when he found it; your g-spot. his merciless tongue abused that shit to an unholy degree. you were only spared a break in ten second intervals when he'd yank his tongue out of your cunt so he could kiss and lap at your wet pussy, devouring your folds and licking up your juices, but that relief was fleeting, before he would dive right back into your hole and resume his torture on that gummy, sensitive spot inside you.

you weren't sure what his agenda was. why he was so adament on making you feel extraplanar levels of ecstasy, and how he possibly got off on that, but you weren't left with much time to contemplate before you were furiously orgasming aginst his face, squirting your fluids onto the floor and into his mouth while your entire body convulsed.

bokuto and atsumu quickly followed suit. "shit, (y/n), let go— your too fuckin tight— hah—" the way your ass cleched around his cock was enough to tip him over the edge. vision filled with stars, bokuto unloaded spurts of his hot seed into your asshole, filling it all up to the brim, enough cum to peek out your puckered enterance after he pulled out. "oh, fuck.. that grip.. was insane."

meanwhile atsumu experiences a similar flurry during his finish as ropes of his sticky cum are shot down your throat. his head tips back and he grinds your face down on his dick as he finished, until the tip of your nose was brushing his base, "ah, just like that, sexy. drink it all up.. keep suckin' til i'm dry, baby. i'll tell you when to stop." he blubbered all sorts of nonsense when he was high.

by the time he removed his cock from your mouth, you were too paralysed from pleasure to even move and inch, still bent over with cum sliding down your throat, and filling up your asshole too. not to mention sakusa's lips which were still locked to your pussy, but thankfully his tongue had given your g-spot a break.

bokuto motion for atsumu to come round the back, so he lurched over. bokuto spread your cheeks and planted a big hand on the small of your back to keep you bent over, as he displayed his conquest to his friend — the sight of his cum peeking out of your puckered asshole. "so damn cute." bokuto expressed triumphantly. then he tilts his head and comments, "reminds me of a cream filled donut."

"hah, fatass."

while they were engaging in their mindless patter, sakusa had finally stopped working on your pussy and stood up straight, aiding you in doing the same. when you are upright, he snakes an arm around your lower back and pulls you close against him, gazing down at you with a hungry glint in his eyes you've never seen from him before. "while they are flaccid," his hot breath tickles your lips, while the firm tent in his pants grinds against your thigh, "do i get you all to myself?"

#sakusa smut #atsumu smut #kuroo smut #bokuto smut #haikyuu smut #kageyama smut #kenma smut #matsukawa smut #sugawara smut #ushijima smut #tendou smut #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #kuroo x reader #ushijima x reader

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plutotheplum · 21 hours ago

Text

chapter three | the chariot

caleb x fem!reader

“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “You’re not leaving.” Caleb stalks towards you, his fingers sliding under your chin, tilting your head up. “You’re not leaving until you’re fucked full of my cum.” He dips his head, the tip of his nose grazing yours. “Understand, sweetheart?”

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, modern au, smut, fluff, kissing, oral sex, p in v, breeding kink, praise kink, unprotected sex, biting, bondage, vaginal fingering, handjob, dog tags, inappropriate photos, confessions

wc: 6.9k

a/n: this turned out to have a little more romance than i was expecting to write but i hope you enjoy! caleb is just soooo 🫦

also on ao3!

series masterlist | next up: the emperor

“Why are you wearing a scarf?”

You clear your throat, fingers tapping against the side of your glass of juice agitatedly.

“It’s quite cold, isn’t it?” you supply lamely, fingers itching to reach up and tug the scarf tighter around your neck, desperately hoping that Caleb hadn’t taken notice of the marks that were now in full bloom.

“Cold?” he echoes, raising his brows. “We’re in the middle of spring. Are you feeling sick?”

You hardly hear his question because you’re too busy trying to tilt your head in a way that doesn’t look too suspicious. The stupid fabric was beginning to itch, and it was driving you crazy.

Xavier had offered to help when he’d found you in his kitchen in the morning, desperately twirling a whisk against your neck. It had hardly helped. You would’ve opted for a turtleneck, but there was a certain lack of them in your closet. Instead, you’d rummaged around, managing to fish out an oddly-patterned scarf from the depths.

“C’mon, are you sick?” Caleb prods, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer, the couch dipping under both your weights as you shift.

“No,” you mumble, silently wishing that this wasn’t happening right now. All you can manage is a pitiful excuse. “I just happen to really like scarves, Caleb.”

“Well, it looks ridiculous,” he says drily, nuzzling into your cheek. “You gonna take it off anytime soon?”

“It’s chic,” you correct, trying to squirm away from him. “And no, I’m still cold.”

Caleb huffs out a laugh, his lips pressing against your cheek fondly. You bite your lip when he picks you up, situating you on his lap, his chest warm against your back. Normally, it’d feel nice if you weren’t currently overheating and overwhelmed.

You stiffen when Caleb rests his chin on your shoulder, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you closer. His lips drag across your jaw in a fleeting kiss and you can feel your eyes sliding shut, lulled into a state of comfort by his thumbs gently rubbing circles into your stomach through your dress.

Out of everyone, Caleb was the one you’d known the longest. You’d grown up together, until he’d moved away for a couple of years before coming back, his demeanor a little more intense than you’d remembered. You still weren’t sure of the reason, but Caleb had gotten sterner over the years, less willing to let you go.

He’d been your first kiss back then, your lips clumsy and inexperienced when he’d kissed you and shy, fleeting glances exchanged between you when he’d walked you home, his hand grasping yours firmly.

You’d never quite gotten the chance to explore the possibility of something more… serious with him, not when Caleb was joining the military soon after. You’d hardly even seen him around until the past few months, his schedule freeing up while he awaited deployment.

“I missed you,” Caleb murmurs, his nose nudging against the side of your head.

“I missed you too,” you mumble, playing with his fingers, your palm pressing against his a few moments later, hands locking together.

He smiles, and you hum when he squeezes your hand, wiggling on his lap happily. Caleb lets out a low noise, one his hands curling over your hip to stop you.

“Don’t do that,” he whispers, his eyes fluttering shut.

“You’re no fun.”

Caleb huffs out a breath, his face pressing into your neck with the intention of mouthing across your skin. He lets out an irritated noise when he’s met with a faceful of your woolly scarf, letting out an exasperated breath.

“Please take the damn thing off.”

“Can’t,” you reply, feigning innocence, “it’s too cold.”

Caleb narrows his eyes. “I can warm you up.”

You shake your head, jerking out of his grasp when he tries to tug your scarf free from around your neck. You’re at your wits end, squeaking when Caleb tries to lunge for you again.

“I want to have sex with the scarf on, Caleb!”

“Is that a new kink?” he laughs, his eyes lighting up, “c’mon baby, you gotta take it off.”

You squeal when he manages to catch you, your little dance around his coffee table coming to an end when he pulls you into his chest, his arms firm and unrelenting, preventing your escape.

“S- stop!” you yelp, trying to squirm out of his arms, shrieking when he hooks his fingers into the gap between your scarf and neck, pulling it free. “Caleb!”

Caleb catches your hand when you try to cover up your neck, his expression dropping when he sees the extent of damage Xavier had laid to your skin. You stare up at him, swallowing nervously, fingers itching at your side, desperately wanting to snatch the scarf back from him.

“What,” he sucks in a shaky breath, “what the fuck is that?”

“N- nothing!” you protest, trying to turn your back to him. “It’s- it’s probably just an allergic reaction to my scarf!” You manage to twist yourself, hand shooting out to grab your scarf, pretending to give the little tag a once-over. “Mhm, yep, definitely an allergic reaction. I- I am, in fact, allergic to wool.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Caleb scoffs, “I know you aren’t allergic to anything.”

“It happens with age,” you lie through your teeth, “ever heard of dermatitis?”

Caleb stares at you blankly, shaking his head incredulously after a moment. “You’ve been spending too much time with Zayne,” he mutters. You watch uneasily as he balls his hands up into fists before he unclenches them, his fingers spreading out in a strained gesture. “Who did it?”

“Xavier,” you mumble, playing with your fingers.

“I’m going to missile strike his apartment.”

You’d laugh if you weren’t so on edge. “You can’t do that,” you reply exasperatedly, “I live in the same apartment complex, remember? Besides, wouldn’t that be like a crime?”

“That is a crime,” Caleb snaps, pointing at your neck accusingly, “I mean what the fuck did you do with him? He’s practically tried to devour you whole.”

You flush when you remember what you had done with Xavier. The teasing, the feeling of his mouth on your tits, you’d enjoyed it.

Caleb glares at you when he sees the faraway look in your eyes, his arms crossing over his chest. “You don’t have to look so satisfied.”

“Well, he did satisfy me,” you mutter under your breath, shifting on your feet awkwardly.

Caleb scrubs a hand over his face before running his fingers through his hair. His jaw clenches as he stares down at you, gaze fixated on the discolored splotches that cover your neck. There’s an uncomfortable tension in the air and you wring your hands together, averting your gaze from his.

“I can leave,” you offer quietly, “if that’s what you w-”

“What?” you ask breathlessly, somehow pinned in place by his darkened gaze and stern expression, holding none of the playful humor that you were accustomed to.

“You’re not leaving my apartment until I fuck you full of my cum,” Caleb repeats, tightening his grip on you. “Do you understand?”

“Well, I-” you sputter, cheeks hot, struggling to comprehend his words.

He clicks his tongue in annoyance, spinning you around, his palm warm against your stomach. You bite back a whimper when he caresses your stomach, his hand pressing down firmly when you turn your head, eyes fluttering shut.

Caleb keeps his hand there, fingers splaying out, trying to encompass every inch of you that he can. His nose nudges against the side of your head, his breath hot against your skin. “Cat got your tongue, hm? You can go and sleep with those two pieces of shit but you can’t answer a simple question, huh?”

“Xavier’s not a piece of shit,” you shoot back agitatedly, eyes opening to send him an irritated look. “And neither is Rafayel. Grow up, Caleb.”

“I was right here,” he hisses, glaring down at you. “I was right fucking here and you decided you wanted to fuck four other men to have a fucking baby.”

“Yes, I did,” you retort sharply, turning in his arms, your finger pressing into his chest harshly. “If you can’t handle that, then maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to this.”

Caleb’s eyes flash with anger, his grip on you loosening when you take a step back, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I agreed first,” he snaps, “or did you forget about that little detail?”

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?” you say exasperatedly, throwing your arms up. “I’m here, in your fucking apartment, Caleb! And yes,” you snap harshly, blinded by your irritation, not quite paying attention to the words slipping out of your mouth, “I want to be fucked full of your cum!”

Caleb’s expression falters when he hears the latter part of your outburst, his eyes widening. Your chest heaves, a frustrated sound leaving you when you realize what you’ve said. You may as well have grabbed a shovel and started looking for a plot of land to bury yourself in.

Instead, you send him a glare that you hope is venomous enough, shoving past him to save face, storming into his bedroom.

“Hey, what are you-” Caleb begins, trailing after you awkwardly, his movements unsure.

Still fuming, you unzip your dress, flinging the fabric at his stupidly handsome face, irritated by his bewildered expression. Caleb’s face disappears for a moment while he sputters, managing to ball your dress up before you throw your bra and panties in his face too. His cheeks flush at the sight of your panties, his fingers clenching around the lace.

“I’m ready,” you announce, well aware of the marks Xavier had left on your breasts and a few more that were hidden between your thighs. You gesture towards yourself. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Fuck me.”

“Uh-” Caleb clears his throat, taken aback by your sudden burst of determination, “maybe you should… calm down first?”

“You think I should calm down?” you retort sharply, “you’re the one that was throwing a temper tantrum!”

“For good reason!” he protests, setting your clothes down on top of his dresser before stepping towards you. “All someone needs to do is take one look at your neck and they’d understand where I’m coming from.”

“You started it with Xavier,” you hiss, finger prodding into his chest once again, “if you hadn’t riled him up, then maybe he wouldn’t have done this.” You gesture towards your neck agitatedly.

“Clearly it’s not just your neck, is it?” Caleb murmurs, his hand sliding up over your waist, his warm, calloused hand cupping your breast, squeezing gently. “All over your tits too.” He frowns at the sight, leaning back to watch your nipples harden at his ministrations, his eyes narrowing when he sees the splotchy marks left by Xavier. “You call that fair, sweetheart?”

All you can manage is a stubborn pout, averting your gaze. He sighs, and you shuffle forward, pressing your face into his chest. “He apologized,” you say, remembering the way Xavier had been on his knees. You let out a heavy breath. “Turns out he’s really good at apologizing.”

“I bet he is,” Caleb grumbles bitterly, his fingers pinching at your nipple absentmindedly.

You whimper, silently cursing yourself for being so weak. Caleb’s other hand comes up to cup your other breast, weighing it in his hand. The breath he lets out sounds a little too strained to be considered normal, your head tilting upwards to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” he says finally, his thumbs stroking over your nipples, his expression turning slightly serious.

Caleb lowers his head, his nose brushing against yours. He doesn’t go any further, simply staring into your eyes. It’s a little unnerving until you realize what he wants from you. Fingers curling into his shirt, you bring him a little closer to you, eyes slipping shut as your lips meet his in a chaste kiss.

“I’m sorry too,” you whisper against his lips, “for not being understanding of your um-” you pause, trying to think of the right word, “preferences?”

He hums, his hand sliding up over the side of your neck to cup your cheek. “Yeah,” Caleb murmurs, “I still don’t think you understand what you mean to me.”

You blink up at him, brows furrowing in confusion. Caleb’s eyes bore down into yours, his expression conflicted. You stare into his eyes searchingly when you think you spot a hint of wistfulness breaking through. “Caleb?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he whispers, both of his hands cupping your cheeks now. “I like you, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” you say, the tension bleeding out from you. “I like you too, Caleb,” you chirp, a smile on your face, “you didn’t have to scare me like that.”

“What?”

“What?” you parrot back, confusion marring your expression yet again.

“No,” Caleb huffs out an irritated breath, “no, I like you.”

You give him a blank look. “...I know. You just said that.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath, “I like you as in romantically. As in I’ve spent the last fifteen years of my fucking life pining after you.”

What? Your mouth opens before you close it, stunned into silence. You always knew Caleb had a little thing for you, but fifteen years?

“And you didn’t say anything earlier?” you manage out, “and you chose to confess now?” You gesture towards your bare body, cheeks flushing.

“The timing was never right,” he replies stubbornly, his eyes narrowing, “and yes.”

“I don’t think the timing is right now!” you protest, shaking your head.

“You don’t feel the same way.”

You shoot him an indignant look. “I didn’t say that, Caleb. It’s just… it’s complicated. You know it is.”

“Always is with you, isn’t it?” he murmurs, his jaw clenching.

“Are you serious?” you begin, feeling cornered, “if you had just said some-”

You’re cut off when Caleb dips his head, pressing a bruising kiss against your lips, one that steals the air from your lungs, leaving your vision blurry when he pulls back.

“It’s okay,” Caleb says, his arms sliding under your thighs to pick you up before he dumps you on his bed unceremoniously. “The baby’s going to be mine, and when it is, I’m going to put a pretty fucking ring on this finger.”

“Marriage?” you squeak out, your complaints muffled by his mouth when he crawls over you, his mouth working against yours hungrily.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, pecking your lips gentler this time, “‘m gonna marry you, sweetheart.”

You were fairly certain the constant high altitudes he was flying at had gotten to his brain. Zayne could help, you think belatedly, until that thought is brushed away when he kisses your cheek, his lips returning to yours soon after, his tongue licking into your mouth,

“What if the baby’s not yours?” you ask him breathlessly, thighs spreading wider when he settles his hips between them.

Caleb frowns at you, his grip adjusting on your hip. “It’ll be mine,” he says self-assuredly, “I’ll make sure of it.”

“You can’t be sure-”

“I’ll cum twice,” Caleb retorts.

“That’s- that’s against the rules!” you try to protest, a needy sigh slipping out of you when he mouths at your neck, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin as though trying to erase the marks laid there. “You- you all agreed to cum once ah- to- to make it fair!”

“Nothing fair about this whole thing, honey.”

Your toes curl when he calls you honey, an unbidden giggle slipping out of you. Caleb leans back to stare at your expression, a smile pulling at his lips when he sees you trying to hide away in the pillows, his nose nuzzling into your cheek, pressing soft kisses all over.

“You like that,” he laughs, his hand finding its way between your thighs.

“So- so what?” you ask breathlessly, moaning against his mouth when he slides his fingers between your puffy folds, your lips meeting his for a brief kiss, hips bucking when Caleb rubs your clit.

“So stop pretending like you don’t.”

You paw at his broad shoulders, fingers latching onto his biceps greedily. Caleb groans softly at your groping, his eyes going half-lidded, a pretty pink tinging his cheeks when you run your hands over his chest, squeezing his firm pecs.

“Take your shirt off,” you whisper, hands sliding under the hem of his shirt to feel his bare skin.

Caleb complies, sitting back on his knees. You watch as he pulls his shirt off in one smooth motion, the silver chain around his neck grabbing your attention, the metal of his dog tags clinking together.

“You still wear these?” you muse as you sit up, your fingers coming up to fiddle with his dog tags, flipping one of them over to read his name stamped into the metal. “Even when you’re not deployed?”

“All the time,” he murmurs, his fingers encircling your wrist, lips brushing over your knuckles.

You shiver at the fleeting kiss, leaning forward, your hands pushing at his chest to get him to lie down. Swinging a leg over his hip, you settle down on his lap, watching the way his dog tags settle between his pecs.

“I suppose you are a big shot, Caleb,” you sigh, biting your lip, fingers skimming down his chest teasingly.

“Colonel,” he corrects, watching hazily as you squirm down to settle on his thighs, fingers hooking into the waistband of his sweats and boxers to pull them down.

Caleb’s cock slaps against his abdomen, hard and thick and somewhat imposing. You stare down at his arousal, cheeks flushing at the sight, watching as his cock twitches, pre-cum smearing across his skin.

“‘s nice,” you offer, hand wrapping around his cock, cunt throbbing when you feel the weight of him in your hand. “And- and big.”

“Bigger than theirs?” he asks, raising his brows, watching you closely as you begin to stroke his cock lazily.

Sylus’ was comparable, but you decide against telling him that, lest he throw another fit. Instead you nod, fighting the urge to roll your eyes when Caleb’s chest puffs out, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

His hand slides between your thighs and you shift, settling on top of it, grinding your hips across his calloused palm, wetness coating his skin. Caleb lets out a heavy breath and you whine, mouth opening and tongue lolling out to let spit drip from your mouth onto his cock.

“Fuck,” he rasps, throwing an arm over his face to hide his flushed expression, “baby, you’re fucking insane.”

“You wanted to missile strike another man’s apartment,” you shoot back, trying to pry his arm away from his face, eager to see his expressions. “Wanna see, Caleb.”

“I never said the idea was off the table,” he grouses, tilting his head to the side to let you mouth at his neck, his hips bucking up into your touch, trying to fuck his cock into the confines of your hand. “He could be a security threat,” Caleb mutters, his hands groping at your ass, squeezing and kneading. “Remind me to do a background check.”

“You’re such a baby,” you sigh, peering down to watch his cock move through your hand, tightening your grip.

A glob of pre-cum pools from the tip of his cock and you squirm, trying and failing to shuffle down and take his cock into your mouth, glaring at him when he keeps you anchored against him, on his lap.

“Always hungry for cock, hm?” Caleb coos, drawing out a loud moan from you when he curls his fingers, sinking them into your clenching pussy. “My cock-hungry little slut.”

You stifle a whimper, hips rising and falling as you fuck yourself on his fingers. His cock throbs in your hand and you squeeze, watching as more globs of thick pre-cum bead at the tip, smearing across when you spit down on his cock again, your lustful gaze meeting his.

“What?” you mumble, pecking his lips gently, eyes fluttering shut.

“Nothing,” he breathes out against your lips, his fingers crooking further, your head tipping back when his fingers hit the sensitive spot inside of you, the feeling enough to have you crying out. “You’re just… pretty.”

You blink up at him, lower lip jutting out in a pout, heart lurching uncomfortably in your chest. You press your face into the crook of his neck, your wrist twisting at a faster pace, jerking him off more desperately.

“Ah-” Caleb moans, his hand on your hip tightening when you rock your hips faster, his eyes squeezing shut when he feels the clench of your pussy around his fingers. “Slow down, honey.”

“I wanna watch you cum,” you say, teeth scraping along his shoulder, thumb brushing over the head of his cock, smiling when you feel Caleb jolt and grunt.

“No-” he shakes his head, “no, shit- I can’t cum now, baby.”

You ignore him, hand stroking faster, your other hand drifting to cup his balls, massaging them gently. Caleb curses and you squeal when he slaps your ass, the view of his room changing suddenly when he grabs you by your hips and pins you down into the bed.

You open your mouth to protest, to tell him that you weren’t done stroking his cock, but you’re only met with the creak of Caleb’s bed as he gets off of it, disappearing through the door. Your brows furrow, the bed dipping as you crawl to the edge of the bed. “Caleb?” you call out, “are- are you coming back?”

Your confusion only grows when he returns with your scarf in hand. “I- I wasn’t serious,” you begin, feeling disoriented when he moves towards you, “I don’t actually want to have sex with the scarf on.”

Caleb smiles, his eyes glittering with mirth. “I thought it might help you keep your hands to yourself,” he murmurs, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose, making your face scrunch up.

You stare up at him, head tilting in question. Caleb huffs out a laugh at your expression, nose nudging against yours to land a kiss to your lips this time. His hands slide under you, picking you up before placing you closer to the headboard of his bed. You squirm under him, watching as he straddles you.

While he’s too busy pinning your wrists together, you lean forward, mouth enveloping his cock. Caleb jerks at the sudden sensation, cursing loudly, his body hunching over as you lap at the head of the cock.

“Can you listen for once?” he asks exasperatedly, his eyes narrowing down to look at you as you try to crane your neck forward, trying to take him deeper into your mouth.

Caleb rolls his eyes when you don’t listen, his fingers sliding over your wrists, winding your woolly scarf around and around, effectively binding them together. You whine when his cock slips out of your mouth with a soft pop, trying to sit up only to find your movement restricted. Your head tilts back, a huff of air leaving you when you realize he’s tied your wrists to the railing of the headboard of his bed.

“I didn’t know you were into bondage, Caleb.”

“It’s not-” Caleb sputters for a moment, before he stares at you suspiciously, “how do you know what bondage is?”

You smile up at him sweetly. “I like to read.”

He decides against chastising you, instead making a mental note to pry into whatever it was that you were reading. Your eyes flutter shut when he strokes his hand over your hair, his lips slotting over yours. “Is this okay?” he asks, fingers trailing down your sides to grip your hips, “being tied up?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, pecking his lips gently, “it’s okay.”

You bite your lip as you watch him slink down your body, his lips leaving kisses as he moves. A soft sigh escapes you when he swirls his tongue around your nipple, his teeth biting down gently before he kisses your nipple, smiling against your skin when you twitch.

Caleb’s fingers slide over your stomach, his teeth scraping across your skin. You whimper when he settles between your thighs finally, trying to reach down to run your fingers through your hair only to be reminded of the fact that you’ve been tied up.

“Hands to yourself, honey,” he reminds you, his eyes twinkling with amusement when you pout.

“Jerk,” you murmur, head tipping back when his breath ghosts over your puffy folds, his fingers spreading you open.

“Think you like that about me,” Caleb mumbles, swallowing at the sight of your wet pussy, letting out a strained breath, “‘s pretty, baby. Really fucking pretty.”

You flush, pussy clenching when he licks over your clit, thighs twitching. Caleb’s fingers wrap around your thighs, placing them over his broad shoulders, his mouth opening wider. Tongue sliding through your folds, he laps at your cunt obscenely, your eyes squeezing shut at the sensation.

He thinks he could die a happy man when you squeeze your thighs around his head, his mouth wrapping around your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue against the swollen bud.

Caleb’s name spills out of your mouth repeatedly in a pleading chant, tears pricking at your eyes when he digs his fingers into your thighs roughly. It all feels so good, his mouth on you, the tight grip he has on as though you might just disappear out from under you if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.

You blink down at him when Caleb pulls away to lick his lips, his mouth and chin glistening with your slick and his spit, his gaze heady. A whimper leaves you when he bites your inner thigh, over the marks Xavier left, his teeth imprinted into your skin as you surrender yourself to him.

Caleb decides it’s not enough, pressing a kiss to your clit before he’s moving you to flip onto your back, your scarf twisting with you.

“Get on your knees, baby,” he rasps, tapping your hips.

You do your best, face shoved into the pillows as you squirm up onto your knees, feeling slightly mortified when Caleb spreads you apart, his hands kneading at your asscheeks.

“Don’t- don’t do that,” you whine, body jerking forward when Caleb runs his tongue through your folds unexpectedly.

“You’re shy now?” he laughs softly, biting into the fat of your ass playfully.

You ignore him, too busy moaning into the pillows when Caleb rubs your clit, his face pressing between your thighs, nose pressing up against your pussy. A sharp gasp leaves you, hips rocking back, trying to grind against the bridge of his nose while his tongue joins his fingers, lapping over your swollen clit.

“Caleb,” you mewl, hands gripping onto the railing of his headboard, the wool of your scarf rubbing against your wrists, “nghhh- ah- you’re so-”

“Charming?” he offers.

You let out a strangled laugh, squeaking when his hand comes down on your ass. He spanks you again, and you make a noise in protest, trying to crawl away, except you have nowhere to go, the scarf fastened enough to prevent you. It’s all too much when his tongue presses into your aching cunt, a cry escaping you as Caleb fucks his tongue in and out of you.

He squeezes your thigh harshly and your movements grow more desperate, trying to sway your hips back when his mouth latches onto you clit again, the press of his nose too much to handle.

“Gonna cum?” Caleb asks, his voice a low growl, “huh, baby? Gonna cum on my fucking tongue?”

“Y- yes!” you squeal, your knees giving out under you when he shoves his tongue back into your cunt, fucking it in and out of you. “Oh fuck, Caleb- oh fuck!”

“That’s it, sweetheart. Cum for me,” he growls, his fingers rubbing at your clit fast and with just enough pressure that you give a trembling cry of his name, slumping down against the sheets as your thighs twitch uncontrollably, panting raggedly to try and catch your breath, toes curling in delirium.

Caleb loosens the scarf binding your wrists when he sees you struggling to move, his cock smearing pre-cum across your thighs and stomach as he turns you over, lips slotting over yours in a desperate kiss.

He’s picking you up soon after, chasing after your lips when you pull away to catch your breath, capturing them again, his tongue slipping into your mouth. Caleb’s kisses are messy, spit leaking out from the sides of your mouth as he settles you onto his lap, his hands running up and down your sides soothingly.

“Can’t- can’t breathe,” you complain, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

Caleb grumbles his displeasure under his breath before his eyes catch sight of your reddened wrists. Letting out a sigh, he grabs one of them, fingers running over your wrist gently, lifting it up to his lips to press soft kisses.

“You okay?” he murmurs, reaching for your other wrist, repeating his ministrations. “Was it too much?”

“No,” you say quietly, kissing his jaw, “it was good. I- I um- enjoyed it.”

Caleb smiles when you meet his eyes, his lips pressing up against the pads of your fingers. You smile back, feeling a little shy despite everything. He tucks your messy hair behind your ear, his touch skimming down your throat fleetingly.

“I don’t want to let you go,” he confesses, letting out a heavy breath, his head tipping back to rest against the headboard.

“I’m here,” you whisper, feeling unsure about what else to say, your fingers playing with his dog tags, bringing them up towards you to kiss the small, metal plates.

Caleb’s expression softens as he watches you, his heart thudding in his chest.

“I’m yours, Caleb,” you continue, kissing him sweetly. “See?”

You reach out, fingers sliding under his silver chain to lift it up over his head before you place it around his neck. The metal chimes softly, his dog tags settling between your breasts.

Caleb nearly cums at the sight. You know exactly how to rile him up, know exactly what to do to make him feel like a lovesick fool. He stares down at you, his adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows, fingers flexing against your hips.

You look so sweet, so soft, perched atop his lap delicately. He doesn’t know what to say when you peer up at him, feeling short of breath when you lean forward to kiss his cheek gently. Caleb’s fingers reach out to graze his dog tags, the cool metal grounding him at least for a moment.

“I hate how you make me feel,” he murmurs finally, hands smoothing over your sides, dragging you closer, groaning softly when your breasts squish up against his chest.

“Sorry?” you offer meekly, biting your lip when he squeezes the fat of your ass.

“Don’t be,” Caleb sighs, his forehead pressing against yours.

He kisses you gently, lips smacking against yours in the quiet of his bedroom. You rock your hips, pussy sliding over the length of his cock. Caleb grunts into your mouth, lifting you up, his hands grasping you under your thighs while you mewl, hand grasping his cock to line him up against your entrance.

“Caleb,” you whimper, eyes fluttering shut when he sinks you down slowly onto his cock, nails scratching his pecs at the feeling of him stretching you out, his cock thick enough to have you feeling like you’re being split open.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he whispers, “doing so good for me. Taking my cock so well, yeah?”

You nod, still scrabbling at his chest, whining when he sinks you down onto the entire length of his cock, your pussy trying to accommodate his size. Caleb smiles against your cheek, kneading at your hips, muttering soft words of encouragement.

Your eyes meet his, hands sliding over his shoulders to let your arms wrap around his neck. Caleb leans back, resting against the headboard as you shuffle on his lap to get more comfortable, beginning to roll your hips.

“Good girl,” Caleb says hoarsely, “just like that, baby. Take your time.”

Spreading your legs to set a wider base, you rise up before dropping your hips back down, making Caleb groan when he feels you beginning to bounce on his cock, his eyes fluttering shut. You bite your lip at the sight, arms tightening around his neck, fucking yourself on his cock, gasping when you feel his cock twitch.

You think you might feel him in your stomach, his cock so fat and thick that it has your cunt clenching in quick succession in an attempt to readjust with every rise and fall of your hips. Caleb’s dog tags jingle with every bounce of you on his lap, his head dropping forward to rest against your shoulder, his teeth scraping across your shoulder.

“Wanna feel you fuck me full,” you mumble, nuzzling against his jaw, “please?”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, “you wanna be bred, sweetheart? Wanna have my baby?”

“Mhm,” you nod eagerly, sending him a drunken smile when he stares down at you.

Caleb’s fingers hook into the chain around your neck, tugging you closer until you’re moaning against his mouth, his darkened eyes watch the bounce and sway of your tits as you fuck yourself on his cock.

“Good fucking girl,” Caleb grunts, “ride my cock, sweetheart. Gonna fill you to the fucking brim.”

His words are obscene, his teeth biting at your lower lip, fingers pinching at your nipples until you’re writhing on his lap. You squeak when he wraps his hands around your waist, letting out a sharp gasp when he picks you up as though you weigh nothing and slams you down onto the length of his cock.

“C- Caleb! ‘s too much!” you wail, nails scratching down his back, unable to meet his eyes properly, not when he’s using you, taking you like you’re nothing but a ragdoll.

“No,” Caleb snaps, “it’s not too much; fucking take it.”

You squeal when he bites your breast, hands flailing for purchase, trying to grab out for something, anything, but it’s hard when he’s fucking you onto his cock like this, your hands landing on his shoulders briefly. The clank of his dog tags is drowned out by the sounds of his balls slapping against you, the lewd noises of his cock thrusting in and out of your clenching pussy.

“Do you like me?”

“Wh- what?” you manage out, lashes fluttering rapidly as you try to blink clearly.

“Do you like me?” Caleb asks, his voice hoarse and raspy, enough to have you clenching around his cock. He doesn’t give you a chance to respond. “Say yes,” he breathes out, pressing his chest more firmly against yours, as though trying to meld your bodies together.

You feel lightheaded and short of breath when his fingers shift, pressing into your lower stomach. His voice turns into something softer, something more pleading. “Say yes, sweetheart.”

“Y- yes,” you hiccup, heart fluttering in your chest, “I- I like you Caleb.”

“Again,” he demands, nose brushing against yours, his lips hovering above yours.

“I like you,” you say breathlessly, kissing his jaw, “like you so much, Caleb. Wanna be bred, please- please cum inside.” You don’t exactly why you utter the next words, but you figure Caleb ought to be into that sort of thing, the power trip it gives him when he’s clinging to control. “Please, Colonel?”

“Oh my- fuck!” Caleb swears sharply, and you can feel his hips jerk, his grip on you faltering when you call him by his title. “You little minx- fucking crazy, you know that?”

“Sorry,” you whine, smiling against his mouth, pawing at his thick pecs, tongue licking over his lips. “‘m sorry, Colonel. Just- just wanna have your baby.”

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” Caleb groans loudly, fingers dimpling the flesh of your hips, “‘m gonna fill this pretty pussy up, sweetheart.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, feeling beyond fucked out, your head a swirl of Caleb, and Caleb only, unable to register anything other than the feeling of his cock snug inside your cunt, the cool metal of his dog tags against your skin, his mouth on yours.

“Ah-” Caleb whines, high and broken, the sound enough to make your back arch, nails digging into his chest.

He manages to fuck you on his cock a few more times, his hands pushing at your hips until your pussy hugs the entirety of his cock, your ass snug against his balls. Caleb moans into your ear, panting and whining as he cums, his cock twitching inside of you as hot spurts of cum spill out, filling you up.

You twitch atop him, the walls of your cunt fluttering around him, eyes squeezing shut as you feel your own orgasm wash over you.

Caleb clicks his tongue when you try to squirm off of him, rubbing his hands over your thighs when you complain about the ache settling in your muscles.

“Stay,” he whispers, kissing your temple, “gotta make sure it takes.”

A few minutes later, you curl up into his side when he lays you down gently, his hand rubbing over your side soothingly. Only the sounds of your breathing fill his room, Caleb’s fingers stroking across you gently. Your lips meet his when he lowers his head, sighing when he squeezes your thighs, massaging them gently.

“We don’t have to do it twice,” he whispers, “I was just- it was the heat of the moment.”

You stare at him, taking in the softness in his eyes, your head tilting to nuzzle into his palm when he strokes his thumb across your cheek. It’s against the rules, you remind yourself, and yet fifteen years… the number is enough to make your stomach flip.

“Did you mean it?” you ask quietly, your fingers tracing across his chest, over the ridges and dips of his muscles.

Caleb lets out a low sigh, his eyes fluttering shut. “Every word, sweetheart.”

There’s a long stretch of silence and Caleb presses his nose into your hair, his eyes opening when he hears the clink of metal. You give him a shy smile, leg swinging over his hip as you straddle him.

The man under you groans softly when you roll your hips, his eyes raptly watching the gentle sway of his dog tags between your breasts. The soft, sweet sentence that you utter next has Caleb closing his eyes in a silent prayer. You truly were going to drive him to madness.

“Better make up for lost time, Colonel.”

Caleb has never seen you more disarmed than when you’re asleep.

He supposes it’s a bit creepy to stare at you while you’re sleeping, but he can’t help it, having been stirred awake by a cramp in his leg. His fingers ghost across the curve of your cheek, careful not to wake you, an uncomfortable ache piercing through his heart.

If only he could keep you here with him.

But Caleb knows how stubborn you are, and he knows the rules of this little scheme that he agreed to, even if they are stupid and he’s already broken one of them. He stiffens when you stir, a smile pulling at his lips when drool slips out the side of your mouth, your body squirming as you roll over onto your back.

When he catches a glimpse of your marked neck, his irritation flares again, lips thinning. Caleb supposes he is driven by jealousy, there’s no point in denying it, not when the ugly head of envy rears his head and he finds his vision tinted with a hue of green that makes it difficult to think clearly.

His fingers are curling over your thigh gently, prying your legs apart carefully, his breath catching in his throat when he sees his cum smeared between your thighs and all over your pussy. Messy, he thinks, lowering his head to kiss your hip affectionately.

The flash of his phone camera isn’t bright enough to wake you up. Caleb stifles a groan at the picture, trying to will away the throb in his cock, his gaze entranced by the image of your messy pussy, covered and filled up with two loads of his cum.

Just like how it should be, he thinks belatedly. Caleb would make it his lockscreen if it wasn’t so intimate.

His fingers tap across his screen, finding Xavier’s number. There’s no need for unnecessary texts. The image is sent, Caleb’s lips pulling up into a sneer at the thought of the silver-haired man.

Caleb tosses his phone onto his bedside table, wrapping his arms around, brushing a gentle kiss to your forehead, humming softly as you curl up into his arms, snuggling closer as you seek out his warmth. The soft sounds of his clinking dog tags catch his attention.

Caleb decides he’ll need to get an extra one stamped.

One with your name.

taglist >///<

@serenitymaria @kreishin @qyuin @wegottastayfocus @novthirty @syluslittlecrows @blorbohunter @luvleixo @crimsonmarabou @skylaryoung2002 @multisstuff @chirikoheina @supermissnkta @serenity-loves-red @shi-thats-kiera @froleineeeee @jaynawayna @schooki @minyoongi-pouts @mizienjoyer @isagistar @zaynesnowflake @athena-portgas @colonelcalebs-pipsqueak @cutelittlesugarfairy @pookiei-bookie @dooopiee @rafshottestgf @thetimetravelernightmare @slytherin-min99 @envy-of-greed @paninisstuff @h0ngh0ngh0ng @nezuswritingdesk @teeheeheartless @flwerie @juliuscaesarsstabbedback @babyx91 @thisaintviolet69 @scoupsonlycherry @blubearxy @midiplier @young-adult-summer @daisys-mushroom-garden @sunsethw4 @lads-ficrecs @buffytheangelslayer @helios-eyre @browneyedgirl22 @straows @lennysnicket @actuallynarii

#caleb smut #caleb #caleb x reader #love and deepspace caleb #lnd caleb #lnd smut #caleb xia #lads #lads caleb

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landossnorriss · 3 days ago

Text

not sorry for loving you | ln x she

Pairing: lando x she. Summary: they were convinced they could hide being together from everyone whilst they navigated being lovers and teammates, but life proved them wrong. Word Count: 1.4k Warning: lando's crash, fluff, a lil angst AN: a little self serving fluff that came to me this morning.

they had crossed the line behind closed doors in the bahrain palace last year after they had taken home a championship together. a year of tension had spilled over into that moment and neither one of them had stopped themselves when fingers had started exploring where they shouldn't.

they had promised each other that it wouldn't, no it couldn't happen again. she had been so sure she could resist him. lando knew it would mess with his head when it came to racing her. would he push his breaking that extra meter if it meant risking her? every time their lips found each other again in one of the driver rooms or visits to hotels on a night they lied, they promised that it was just casual, that it was just a way to blow off steam.

she knew he needed her , he knew she hadn't ever felt so seen.

they were their own little dirty secret and other than jon who had his suspicions given the guilty look on her face when he had called out the marks on landos back , no one in the team was none the wiser.

they were on weekend five now, at this rate they were sure that they could keep it up if they needed too all year. maybe if they were sure that it was something real then it would be something worth telling the team about. right now, every time they thought about it all they could imagine was the disappointed stares they would get from the team bosses should it go wrong.

so silently, behind kisses that got longer and sweeter every time they had to part from each other , they agreed this would just be a them thing and the lingering touches of his hand on her waist in the garage? the way she reached to adjust his curls to how she knew he liked them? they would pass them off as nothing more than teammates bonding, learning to move in total sync with each other for the best shot at the titles.

she had been smug about it that weekend too, as they had arrived in saudi, she had looked across at him , all tanned and sleepy with freshly dampened curls in her bed and had been smug. they had managed to keep the secret for so long now and they were proving that they could race each other and make it work. " i'm going to beat you in quali today , i'm going to make it back to back wins. " she smirked as she crawled into their bed , leaning over to press a kiss to his lips as he laughed, rolling the pair of them over and trailing his lips down her neck. " not if i can help it, something mighty would have to stop me. "

and it seemed that way too, through practice and the first two sessions of quali, she could feel something in her gut, something that felt wrong. she had thought that lando was right , he was going to get pole and tomorrow in the race she would be chasing him. why the idea of that filled her with so much dread she didn't know but as she pulled out of her garage she tried to push the imposing thoughts of dread from her mind and remind herself it was only race five. they had all the time in the world to go back and forth with each other.

the red flag had appeared just as she crossed the line and she knew , she knew even before the radio sounded in her ears it was him. he had left the garage just thirty seconds after her , he would have been the only car flying hard enough to cause such a quick red flag. " so that's lando is in the wall at turn five, red flag. "

one, two, three, four .... corners blurred past her as she fought back the misty feeling in her eyes and tried to figure out how to respond without giving herself away. she had been on track when drivers crashed before, this was nothing new to her so why did she feel like she was going to be sick in her helmet? " he's okay right? " she asked, voice quiet and shakier than she would have liked. " yea he's , he's radioed he's okay. "

she tried to let it calm her , tried to believe that he was okay and they wouldn't lie to her but she knew that she wasn't going to believe it until she saw him herself. through her interviews she was distracted, turning her head to the media pen to see if she could find him. her smiles were fake and forced as she posed for photos and people asked her what her plan was to get max off the line, she didn't know, she couldn't think about anything other than seeing him. all she needed to do was see him , then she could breathe.

when she finally walked back into their hospitality she waited and waited, staring at the door until she heard the crowds voices spike behind the doors and she knew that he had to have been walking through the paddock for that buzz to have sounded. as the door opened she chewed at her lips, almost bracing herself for something to be terribly wrong with him and as she saw him stood on his own two feet? the sob that left her was beyond her control.

without thinking, she was moving. lando didn't seem to mind as he locked eyes with her and immediately took steps towards her. arms were flung around each other as they met in the middle of the room and all regard for the eyes on them was seemingly forgotten. burying her face in his shoulder she couldn't help the tears that continued to flow as lando ran his hands up and down her back like he wasn't the one that had just been in an accident. " baby i'm okay. " he assured quietly , but not quietly enough as several brows around the room raised at the intimacy of their drivers.

oblivious to the storm they were causing, she pulled back to look at him, a hand finding his flushed cheeks, staring at her favorite pair of eyes for a moment as she grounded herself in the reality that he was here and he was walking and talking and he was okay. " don't ever do that again. " she scalded, half laughing through her tears half deadly serious. knowing he could make no such promise lando dropped his forehead to her own, his nose nudging at hers for just a second letting her just being there calm him.

only a cough from behind pulled them from their moment, landos arms tightening around her, almost shifting her behind him as he spun so that she was out of sight from their bosses. " we can explain. " he urged though he wasn't sure what they were meant to be explaining. that they weren't together? that he didn't love her? that she hadn't been the last thing he had thought about before it went black in his mind? to say any of that out loud to either of the faces looking at them would have been a lie.

lacing her hand with his own, she stepped into sight, ever so slightly, still just a shoulder behind him as people in the room began to shuffle and find something to busy themselves with. " we can explain , but ... " pausing for a moment she looked up at him, fingers squeezing his own as he nodded at her, offering a lazy smile that told her they had this. " we won't apologise. " she would not be sorry for loving him.

watching the pair, the way they clung to each other, their team principal let out a sigh. damn racing drivers and their immovable wills. " very well, shall we go and discuss this in private?" he offered, a hand held to gesture towards his office.

with a small nod she moved, stepping around lando and dragging the pair of them to the office, hands still linked. it was only a tug on her hand that stopped her from crossing the threshold into the room once they arrived, confusion on her face as she turned to look up at him. " i love you. " the confession fell from his lips and it wasn't how he planned on saying it the first time but it was there now and in the open as they smiled at each other. " and no matter what happens in that room , you're right, i'm not sorry for loving you. "

#lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #ln4

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crystaltoa · 12 hours ago

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I feel like such a mean old nasty hag saying this but… do they not plan on existing past the age of 35? In their 20s a breakup wouldn’t necessarily destroy their lives (or they could bounce back from it at least) because there would be another rich guy around the corner, but it’s going to get harder and harder with more competition as time goes on.

Fascinating that it’s considered ‘eroticising’ the inequality. I’m bad at picking up these things as I’m very ace, but now that I see it I can’t unsee it. interesting that boyfriends/husbands don’t appear prominently in this imagery, if at all, and it seems that the content is targeted at straight women. But the partner is not the fantasy, he’s just the key to unlocking the fantasy.

Gen Z and younger millennials have been previously known for ‘quiet quitting’ and other anti-work attitudes, which is not in itself a gendered phenomenon. It stems from the cost of living crisis and the state of the modern workforce and the dawning reality that getting ahead and meeting traditional milestones is bordering on impossible for many, work is not rewarding in the emotional or financial sense, and that one might as well try to actually enjoy their current existence rather that running themselves into the ground for a hypothetical better future.

While there is a lot to be said for living in and enjoying the moment, avoiding thoughts of the future isn’t healthy when taken to its logical extreme. Something I’ve observed as a general trend in women across generations is being caught up so much in the day-to-day stuff that they forget to take care of their future, especially financially. Honestly, I think part of my own interest in personal finance came from the realisation that I wasn’t straight and that I couldn’t gamble on marrying someone who would know all the things I didn’t and make good decisions to ensure a happy future.

Which led me to the realisation that actually, straight women shouldn’t gamble on this either. But many of them still do, even those who consider themselves quite progressive. And from talking to others I learned that also, a lot of men don’t know much about personal finance either, it’s just often assumed by their partners that they know what they’re doing (*glares at my parents*). Apathy toward the future is bad for everybody.

I don’t think GenZ’s disinterest in work or “ little treat” hedonism is inherently a problem. Nor do I think not working carries any moral weight one way or another. I am very much pro-UBI and I think it’s actually essential to achieving true equality. But the stay-at-home trophy fantasy plays off the generation-wide frustration with work and appears to provide a solution, which can be very dangerous if not viewed with healthy skepticism.

this little glamorized misogyny "joke" has run its course right. can we leave this corny demonic shit in 2023. it is done now. we've had enough.

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wosoarsenalwfc · 23 hours ago

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my car is replaceable, ur not

steph catley x reader

summary : renee has finally given you guys a day off and you need to do some grocery shopping. steph rather play fifa then come with you. you take her car and on your way back from the shops, you get into a car crash and lose consiousness. hospital calls steph and when you wake up your more worried about damaging stephs car then yourself.

warnings : car crash, hospital, unconsiousness

Renee had finally done the impossible, she had granted the arsenal wfc team a full day off. No training, no meetings, no recovery sessions. Just 24 glorious hours to do absolutely nothing, which, in your mind, translated to: groceries. The fridge had been empty since the last away trip, and you'd been surviving off protein bars, takeaways and questionable leftovers (Steph called them exotic cuisines but both you and your stomach did not appreciate eating a peanut butter and pickle bagel) for three days now.

You were halfway through putting on your sneakers when you looked over at Steph, who was lounged across the couch in sweats, deeply focused on a game of FIFA, looking extra huggable. She didn’t even glance up when you called her name.

“Steph, come with me,” you said, grabbing your keys. “I have to do a big shop. Help me carry stuff with those big muscles of yours?”

She waved a hand lazily, though you could see her tense up to show her muscles.

“Babe, I just got Foden, I can’t abandon him now.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. This was typical. “Fine,” you sighed as you walked out the door, taking Steph's car keys, instead of yours.

You didn't realise however until you spent 10 minutes trying to open your car with Steph's keys, failing to realise that it was the car behind you that kept lighting up. Oh well you thought, Steph would never know and plus, Steph's car always smelt like her perfume (and occasionally Calvin's shampoo). You got into the front seat and backed out of the garage.

******

You had just finished loading the last bag into the trunk when the traffic light turned green, and you turned out of the parking lot. The intersection was quiet, your windows down, your mind drifting to what snack Steph was definitely going to steal from the bags.

You never saw the car speeding through the red light.

The sound was thunderous—metal twisting, glass shattering, a moment of pure chaos before the world went black.

*******

Steph had just scored a beautiful goal in FIFA when she realised you had been gone for more than 4 hours already. Worry and panic ran through her and suddenly her phone buzzed.

Unknown Number.

She almost didn’t answer, but something in her gut told her to.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Stephanie Catley?”

“Yes…”

“This is St. Benjamin's Hospital. We have someone here listed with you as their emergency contact, they were in a car accident. (y/n) (l/n),”.

Her world stopped as she ran to find her car keys but they were no where to be seen. Sighing, she picked up yours, not yet figuring out that if your car was in the garage and hers wasn't, you had taken hers.

******

You opened your eyes slowly, the harsh white hospital lights making you squint. Everything ached. Your head, your side, your legs. But you were breathing.

Someone was holding your hand—tightly. You turned slightly and saw Steph, her eyes red-rimmed, face pale, lips pressed into a tight line.

“Hey,” you croaked.

“Jesus, you’re awake,” she breathed, a shaky laugh escaping. “You scared the hell out of me.”

You blinked at her, groggy. “Wait… the car. Steph—your car. I’m so sorry.”

She looked at you like you’d grown a second head. “You nearly died and you're worried about my car?”

“I'm so sorry, I accidentally took your keys and I wasn't bothered to go grab mine and plus your car smells like you. I'll pay for the insurance or a...” you ranted.

Her face broke into a soft, wet smile and she kissed your pout and interrupting you mid sentence. “You’re an idiot, my car is replaceable, but your not”

“I'm your idiot,” you whispered.

She leaned down and kissed your forehead. “Damn right, I'll go get the nurse now,".

And with that, she walked out the room, not before pecking your cheek and squeezing your hand again.

#steph catley #woso fanfics #woso x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc imagines #matildas x reader #steph catley x reader #woso fanfic

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ariaste · 3 days ago

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Unfortunately, you can be taken in by propaganda at any age and regardless of how much you've been taught. The way that cult influencers like Andrew Tate work is that they hook into a key feeling of 1) loneliness/isolation, 2) unfairness, or 3) both. Ten year old boys are very aware that the world is unfair, and frankly they're not wrong!They have to listen to and obey adults, they have to do homework and chores, they have to live on other people's schedules, etc. Additionally, although all of those families who are showing preference for a son over a daughter do defend their son to "threats" (such as "gasp the teacher gave him a bad grade") that are external to the family system, within the family system they are also putting a huge amount of pressure on him to perform to expectations (and confusing mixed signals about how great he is at the same time). A 10 year old boy does not get space to figure out his own identity -- he is already being suffocated by toxic masculinity and the patriarchy. So he knows the world is unfair, but he can't quite put his finger on WHY.

Andrew Tate swoops in and says, "Here's why it's unfair!" And the natural emotional response is to go, "Oh!!!" He gives them an answer (the wrong answer, yes, but an answer) to a nebulous question most people of any age are not able to even begun to articulate for themselves. That's Cult Bullshit 101.

If you teach a child that they're not entitled to anything, then that unfortunately only sets them up to feel even more like the world is unfair. And frankly, there is a lot that they ARE entitled to -- privacy, bodily autonomy, and freedom to explore their own identity, for example. But even if you do teach them all that, that doesn't make them immune to propaganda. I know families who did everything right, who thought they were raising a great, kind, caring, compassionate kid, and the kid still got hooked into a cult influencer's orbit. Because feeling vaguely like the world is unfair is kind of part of being a preteen/teenager.

And honestly, feeling vaguely like the world is unfair continues into adulthood! This is just what happens when you are a social species with a big complicated brain! You assess, "Does that other monkey have more bananas than I do? That's not fair." Sometimes the feeling is right (systemic inequality), sometimes it's irrational (coworker brought a candy bar with their lunch and you do not have a candy bar in your lunch oh NO), and sometimes it's flat-out wrong (cult indoctrination).

The good news is that children's brains are VERY flexible, and at that age they're trying on a million different identities and just sort of Spouting Bullshit without actually having those beliefs firmly set in stone yet. The fact that they are discovering that stuff is concerning, but if the adults in their lives can catch it and identify it and do the hard work to guide these kids back out of it, you could potentially end up with a generation of young men who are better equipped to resist misogynistic propaganda because they've been inoculated against it.

With some kids, you can tell them, "Hey, the stove is hot" and they won't touch the hot stove. With other kids, you tell them that, and they touch it anyway, and unfortunately get to learn from the burn rather than from the warning. You can't prevent 100% of singed fingers, but you can catch them before they get badly hurt and patch them up. And then frequently they're the ones most vigilant against other people touching the stove.

I’m fucking livid

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cavillscurls · 3 hours ago

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you came? ⟡ you called.

no-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader (feat. miss sarah miller)

It still seems impossible to let you go, especially when life gets tough.

warnings/tags: no outbreak au. joel & reader dated when she was finishing college, and he is in his late 30s. sarah is six. angst. breakups. family drama. classism & the discussions of wealth. right person, wrong time. depictions of depression & anxiety. sarah is involved in a car accident (she is ok!). hospitals. fluff. girl!dad joel. heightened emotions. unresolved feelings. hurt/comfort. ambiguous but happy ending. <3 reader is physically nondescript, but contains an individualized backstory. not beta'd & only slightly proofread. wc: 3.3k

He missed the call.

His baby girl was in the hospital, and he missed the fucking call.

It’s difficult not to feed into guilt as he rushes through the haze-ridden streets across town, pelts of rainwater hitting his windshield. Curses are spewed under his breath, and he feels the burn in his sinuses and the tremble in his chin, how his throat feels thick with every nervous swallow.

It appears they lost some control with how slick the roads have been, is what they’d said when he called back.

The nurse's voice was even and lackluster in a way that Joel knows is irrational to be bothered with, but he’s unable to reason. He doesn’t understand how the rest of the world can keep spinning when his feels like it’s falling apart.

Both kids and Mrs. Watson are alright, but we are concerned your daughter may have sustained a bit of head trauma from bumping into the window, and we took her back for a CT scan to be on the safe side.

He doesn’t blame Margie Watson, even in this irrational state of mind. Sarah and her son have always gotten along well, and she has been kind enough for the last two years to carpool Sarah home with them three days a week when his outrageous work schedule wouldn’t allow the time. It could’ve happened to anyone, anywhere.

Still, he wonders why now? Why his little girl?

His hair is flattened with rainwater when he bursts into the emergency room lobby. He’s not even sure he turned off the truck engine, but that seems of little importance as he stumbles toward the front desk, frantic eyes darting every which way to get a sense of where she may have been taken.

He’s had to do this—the waiting and worrying a parent often does for their child whenever they are upset, or sick, or hurt—many times. And every time, he’s done it alone. It’s overwhelming and all-consuming, and he thinks, for a little while, he quite literally forgets how to breathe. Has to forcibly rise and contract his chest to gulp down the oxygen that keeps his body moving, if only to be certain his baby comes out better for it on the other side.

Sweat pools at his temples. His heart is beating so violently in his chest, he hardly registers the woman at the desk speaking.

“We’ve got you all checked in, Mr. Miller. We also want to inform you that we went ahead and called the second number listed under Sarah’s emergency contacts.”

This gets his attention. His brows scrunch together. “Second—?”

“Joel?”

Air rushes back into his lungs, and there is the momentary sensation of relief. The memories flood, ones that he often tries to repress to no avail.

He blinks once. Twice. He thinks he’s gone absolutely fucking mad.

But then you’re cautiously stepping towards him, the glint in your eyes nearly as frantic as his, arms somewhat outstretched as if you’re ready to take him by the shoulders. Ground him as you have so many times before. Steady him when that feeling creeps in—the one he’s disregarded for decades in hopes that it would magically disappear—and stop the ground from falling beneath his feet.

You were always the stable one. Enduring and confident. All his loyalty and handiness couldn’t make up for what you did to his mind.

You were the calm.

Despite how crazy he was for you, Joel had never fit into your life. At least, not into your family’s mold of what your life should be.

Sarah was only ten months old when you met. It’s funny, measuring the passage of time through the years of his daughter. But she entered the world as the center of his universe, and everything that came to them after was simply pulled in by her orbit.

He wasn’t in any place to be meeting people, let alone dating as a newly single father, coping with an abandoned relationship. But you were so damn smart. So sweet. Your meeting was happenstance, a mutual friend’s birthday party for which he somehow managed to get the time off and a sitter. You were finishing up your degree and planned to attend grad school in-state. A beautiful girl from a wealthy family whom he somehow managed to charm. And even more importantly, you managed to impress his daughter.

He knew after your fourth date, when he had worked up the courage to finally introduce you to her, that this would be no casual fling. And it wasn’t.

A month turned to six, six months to a year, and suddenly, you were interwoven into each other's every waking moment. Joel had forgotten about the stress and heartache of his previous involvement; it was easy to do so when what was right in front of him felt entirely stable, and good, and real.

For his thirty-fifth birthday, you threw him a surprise party. Normally, such a display would not be his forte. But it was a modest enough affair, only the closest of friends and family, all packed into his backyard with Tommy on the grill and Sarah passing out those pointy party-store birthday hats. You’d strung up some lights, ordered a cake from one of the nicest bakeries in town, and even managed to hire his favorite local band to play for the night.

He remembers the bright smile on your lips so vividly, the smooth way you reached for his shoulder and pressed up onto your toes to kiss his cheek and purr a happy birthday, handsome, in his ear.

He bought the ring the very next day.

And when you said yes, bright, teary eyes and the sweetest smile, he was so happy.

It wasn’t much. He got Tommy to take Sarah for the evening and cooked you a three-course meal. Set a nice cloth along the table, even lit some candles. Placed your favorite record on the turntable. And just before dessert, he asked you to dance. Something that was usually begrudging, like pulling teeth to get him to do it, and you sprang up with elation, letting him twirl you around the living room until he pulled you in close, breathed in the scent from your neck, and asked you to marry him.

He felt your body slow, heard the little gasp from your lips, and when you pulled back to look at him, he could tell you didn’t believe him. He reached into his back pocket for the square velvet box, and the rest was history.

He was so fucking happy.

Your parents, however, did not appear to share the same sentiments.

They had always been kind enough, especially when his daughter was involved. But they were a different kind of people than Joel’s parents were, a different kind of people than he was altogether—old money, an ancestral stake in their town. They expected excellence, and there was no denying the pride they had in your smarts, your ambitions. Their view of the world was limited, chained to glory over happiness.

“This all just seems a bit impulsive, doesn’t it?”

“She has so much ahead of her, you can’t possibly expect her to settle down here!”

“We just wouldn’t want this to hold her back.”

The stress of it all had taken a toll on both of you, and the spring before you left grad school, you called it off.

Last he heard, you had taken a job up in one of the Dakotas.

Seeing you now? It feels like a stab to his already churning gut.

“Hey,” he finally hears himself say, but his voice doesn’t sound like his.

“Hey… hi.”

You’re a little out of breath, eyebrows pulled taut on your forehead, and his heart aches at the sight. He’s seen you this way, loving, concerned, more times than he can count. He never thought he’d see it—especially not for him—ever again.

You lift your left hand to rub soothingly across your cheek.

He doesn’t see a ring.

“Thank you, um,” he starts again, feeling all sorts of discombobulated, “you-you didn’t have to—”

You shake your head.

“Of course I did.”

And he looks at you now. Really looks at you, and he feels like you can see right through him. He feels that tightness creep into his throat again, and before he knows it, you’re expelling a shaky sigh and surging towards him. His arms open immediately.

The press of your body is anchoring, and he’s grateful that he can bury his tear-welling eyes in the mask of your hair. He squeezes them tight, focusing on the way you hold him, and the euphoric rush of getting to hold you. He never thought he’d get the chance again.

“Did you see her?” he croaks into your neck.

He feels you nod. “Only briefly when they brought her in,” you explain, softer now, voice wavering just like his. “She was awake. She was okay. Just looked a little shaken up.”

This relieves him. It’s nearly the same information the nurses gave him, but hearing it from you feels different. Genuine, like he doesn’t have to second-guess whether or not it’s worse than they’re making it out to be.

“Didn’t know they still had your information,” he grumbles, shaking his head. He realizes he’s held on too long, just a moment past acceptable, and starts to loosen his arms. “I can ask them to change it—”

“No,” you interject, peering up at him now like he’s said something of great offense. But the sharpness hastily wilts away, and you worry your bottom lip with your teeth, carefully slithering your arms off of him and crossing them over your stomach. You take a single step back, and his chest aches. “I mean, I… I’m happy to stay on as long as you need me to.”

He could ask Tommy. Albeit most of the time, if Joel’s busy, so is he. He contemplates his other options, and not much comes to mind. Then, he considers that this may be your way of asking if there are any other options. The thought, while arguably a long shot, stirs him.

He considers his next words carefully.

“I’m… m’sure she’s glad it was you,” he murmurs, and the crease between your brows softens. “Considerin’ I was no fuckin’ help.”

The crease returns.

“Don’t,” you counter, shaking your head. He knows that look. Knows you mean business. “Don’t do that. You couldn’t have possibly expected this.”

He knows he can’t argue. He’s tried countless times. Instead, he sighs. Hangs his head, props his hands on his hips, and taps an antsy foot.

“What’re you—”

He has to bite his tongue. What’re you even doing here? He wants to ask, but he cowers from the harshness. Braces himself for the fear of even asking.

“I mean… you’re here,” he opts for. “Didn’t expect you to be here.”

He peers up at you through hooded eyes, chin still tilted in shame, and your arms loosen until they finally fall slack at your sides. He wonders how this feels for you, if it’s just as anxiety-inducing as it is for him.

“Yeah, I um. I moved back in October,” you explain, seeming to hesitate before: “My dad’s not doin’ too well.”

His eyebrows shoot up, and then, a deep-set frown. He knows he isn’t your father’s favorite. Hell, your father ain’t his favorite either, but it’s not the news he was hoping to hear.

“M’sorry to hear that,” he says earnestly, and you thank him softly, sniffling.

He has a million questions. He doesn’t think there’s enough time left in his life to ask them all. And he finds himself panicking a little, sifting through each and every one of them, trying to choose the right one.

Just as he thinks he’s landed on it, a nurse in blue scrubs is approaching in his peripheral.

“Mister and Misses Miller?” she chirps.

You both turn your heads, but Joel hears the quiet gasp of air you intake, and sees the way your mouth hangs open, on the precipice of rebuttal.

“Is she ready for us?” Joel asks, never giving you the chance. Never even bothering to correct her himself. There are small wins in this, like the way your eyes flutter over to him in silent inquisition—no ill-will, just curiosity.

The nurse smiles. “Yeah, y’all are welcome to come on back.”

She winds you both through the sterile halls until he sees a sign that reads PEDIATRICS. He’s so aware of your footstep behind him, following closely. He has the momentary urge to reach back, seek out your hand, and with it, your comfort. But he refrains. Squeezes that same hand into a fist, and scolds himself for how foolishly simple it is to fall back into old habits.

The nurse stops at door 241 and taps her knuckles lightly three times before opening the door and letting you both inside.

The familiar sound of Barbie: Swan Lake is on the television. He knows this because it plays through about four times a day in the living room. Although most of the time, it’s accompanied by the unsteady little girl in her tutu in front of the screen, replicating each sequence more and more precisely each day.

This time, he finds his little girl propped up in the bed pressed against the center of the wall. Her wide eyes dart from the screen to him at the sound of the door, and he sees them well with tears.

His heart breaks. Literally, he thinks it’s cracked in two.

“Daddy!” she calls, and it sounds like she’s exhaling some great burden. A relief. A precious smile and hands reaching toward him despite the pain he’s caused in making her wait.

He’s stalking towards her immediately, crouching down on sore knees beside the bed so she can wrap those outstretched arms around his neck. He puts his own around her tiny body, trying not to hug her too hard despite the unbearable need to have her close. Safe. Always safe with him.

“Hey, babygirl,” he mutters, trying to swallow back tears of his own. And she’s brave, so brave in the way her little body trembles, but she never lets them fall.

When she pulls back, he places a lingering kiss on her forehead.

“M’so sorry I wasn’t here,” he says, tilting his head at her sadly. Her lips turn into a pout, and she reaches her tiny hand to take his much bigger one, giving it a squeeze.

“It’s okay, Daddy.”

He shakes his head. “No, it ain't, baby.” He lifts that same hand up to kiss her knuckles, too. “Can you forgive me?”

Her dimpled smile returns, and Joel thinks maybe the cracks have started to heal. “Can we... get ice cream after this?”

Shared laughter echoes across the room, and the levity of her question lifts the final weight from his chest. Too damn smart for her own good.

“Bribin’ me now, huh?” he asks, tsking his tongue. “Yeah… yeah, I think we can make that happen.”

“Then I forgive you,” Sarah says triumphantly, reaching out to give her father another much-needed embrace. The amused nurse places a clipboard of release papers onto the tray table.

“The CT scan and X-Ray came back entirely normal, Mr. Miller. Safe to assume Sarah is just dealing with a mild concussion due to the impact. Dizziness, sensitivity to the light—” she gestures towards the dimmed switch. “You may notice some bruising or swelling around the forehead—ice is your friend until that goes down. Other than that, just continue to monitor over the next couple of weeks. Lots of rest, ease back into high-intensity activities, and give us a call if anything worsens.”

He nods carefully along with her instructions. “Yeah, of course. Thank you.” The nurse offers all three of you a smile before excusing herself, the door thudding behind her.

The guilt lessens now that she’s here, safe, within reach, staring at him with her big-brown eyes and toothy grin. He feels lightheaded, the adrenaline worn off, and the emotional whiplash of the hours events pumping rapidly through his veins.

“Oh, look!”

Luckily, it’s his Sarah who breaks the deafening silence. Over the sound of whirring machines and stale air, she squeals, reaching under the flimsy blanket. The pulse ox monitor on her tiny finger makes him frown, but what she reveals from hiding can’t help but soothe the soul.

“Look what they gave me, Daddy!”

A little white teddy bear, the kind with a tulle bow tie wrapped around its neck, and a permanent smile stitched across its snout. She squeezes it to her chest and smiles widely, and Joel is met with the endearing sight of her two missing front teeth. They had fallen out only days apart.

He leans in close, all serious like. She giggles.

“You gotta name for ‘em yet?” he asks.

She nods her pretty head of curls three times.

“Paddington.”

“Fantastic choice.”

She laughs again, hugs Paddington tight, and Joel tries to be grateful for a moment. Tries to acknowledge all the hurt and sickness happening in the building around him that somehow did not infiltrate this very room today. Instead, he has a beautiful baby girl with only a bump on her head.

Instead, he’s been reunited with someone just as beautiful. Someone he wonders if he’d ever see again had it not been for what transpired today. He glances your way, finding you leaning casually against the wall with your arms crossed and an enamored look in your eye. You straighten a little when you catch him looking, and he feels compelled to shower you in a gratitude he's not sure he knows how to convey. He owes you, for more reasons than just this.

As if she can read his mind, Sarah’s voice picks up, just above a whisper now:

“Daddy…. Honey’s here.”

He feels himself go red to the tips of his ears.

There’s another breath of shared laughter, endearment, and maybe a bit of awkwardness.

Honey.

Just something he used to call you. Something innocent and fond. Naturally, Sarah picked it up, and eventually, she started calling you it too.

He gives you an apologetic look, and the way you peer back—so fragile, so careful in the way you appraise him and his babygirl—makes his tongue feel heavy. Like that name, that title, still festers there. Like he could scream it at the top of his lungs if it meant one chance to use it again.

“I know she is, baby,” he answers instead, squeezing Sarah’s arm tenderly. “You’ll have to thank her for comin’ all this way to check on you.”

Her eyes dart towards you again, and whatever she finds has them slanting back Joel’s way so sweetly. The kind of look no good father is immune to.

“Can she come get ice cream with us, too?”

His instinct is to decline. Soften the blow with a clever excuse, and talk his way out of big questions that seem too difficult to explain to someone so small, the way he always has.

But the words never come. They die on his tongue that still holds memory. Every word he’s ever spoken, every piece of time remnant with you.

He can’t say it. He won’t.

He looks at you, instead. Your shoulders gone slightly rigid, and your brows piqued with subtle curiosity. Like you’re waiting to see where he takes this next. He swallows hard, swallows down the fear, the regret, and anxiety.

“She’s more than welcome to,” he says, and his daughter beams. “If she’d like.”

He sees the stale lights reflect off your eyes, brimming with tears. Notices the way your chin trembles, and how you press your lips together in a hard line, the way you always do when you want to be brave.

He sees a gleam of hope. Memories swaying between the space you all occupy, assuring him that they aren’t just figments of his imagination, but real, and raw, and true. That they live just as deeply in you.

Your lips part, and he holds his breath.

“I’d love to,” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.

He exhales.

He sees a second chance.

And he has every intention of taking it.

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#i’m certain we could all use some fluff rn #this has been in my drafts for a while #joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #sarah miller #the last of us fanfiction

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01zfan · 2 days ago

Text

in chair

anton x reader | 8.5k words

rewatched juno recently (the best movie of all time by the way) and i thought of anton. he is so paulie bleaker coded. this is mainlyyyy inspired by the beginning scene of the movie but the dynamic i tried to write here is supposed to be like them heh

also in my head the album pinkerton by weezer plays in the background during all of this.

contains: loss of virginity, sneaking around

There was some sort of binding vow that kept the recliner safe.

Even if it made no sense, to Anton and to you it felt like doing it on the recliner was better than doing it anywhere else. As though Anton’s dad was all the way in South Korea unknowingly keeping his irresponsible son honest. The terrible conversation they had about safe sex in his home studio lingered in the air and seeped into the recliner through the cracks in the vinyl covering.

Neither of you had a condom but that was okay because the recliner itself was one big condom, keeping you both safe from whatever absolutely couldn’t happen.

No matter how Anton felt about you, he was convinced that nothing would ever come of it. Not only was he a responsible and dutiful son, he promised his dad he wouldn’t do reckless things to save his mom the trouble. He would also never do anything because the mere thought of holding hands made his palms sweaty. He didn’t even really know how to have sex, much less with someone he’s friends with and has been dating-but-not-really-dating for the last year. You once described the relationship as something that had to do with close proximity and your shared taste in nerd-rock bands everyone else thought were shitty. Even if he did share that kiss with you in Park Wonbin's sweaty basement for no reason and you two did hold hands, you weren't together. You two were open and honest but you got defensive once when Anton brought up anything regarding your relationship. So because of that, the thought of having to speak or touch you even if he wanted to, and you never had any complaints when he did, made Anton’s mind overflow with all that could go wrong.

But he was in the chair. This was better than laying missionary on the bed, or being on the floor. This was different than whatever you were going to do when you finally got the courage to take off your underwear and close the difference between you and him.

You stood in front of Anton, watching him in just his boxers and a white shirt. His hoodie was taken off and thrown onto his small bed, his sweats were bunched at his feet. This scene had to be degrading, him with his pants down and staring at you waiting for what you were going to do next. You were wearing more clothes than him. You told yourself you couldn’t take off your layered shirts for his sake, not because the thought of being completely naked felt embarrassing. Anton was with you through your terrible nu-metal phase and even humored you and listened to the mixtape you burned for him. There was nothing worse than that but still, you stayed in your bra with your undershirt, the long sleeve, and the short sleeve band tee on top. Anton was still your bestfriend, and he could take back that he wanted to do this at any moment.

There was also the fear that his mother and brother could come back. You two had lost track of time because you started awkwardly kissing immediately once you heard the front door close. Anton eventually found the strength to pull you onto his lap after sitting criss cross to accommodate you. Once you were there and your hands were on his shoulders bringing him closer, the seconds started turning into minutes, minutes turned into hours, so forth. You forgot when you even started and looking at the time was useless.

All of this was ironic, because Anton’s mom had recently become wary of leaving you two alone. She had developed the habit of trying to snoop on your conversations while talking to his dad over the phone. She would stand in the kitchen, holding the phone close to her face while standing on her tiptoes to see over the upstairs banister into Anton’s room.

“Is he taking a liking to it?” Anton’s dad asked it over the phone when she described the scene to him. He was elated with the idea of the recliner going in his sons room. He saw it as some sort of compensation for missing more formative years in his life. He was happy imagining his son sitting in his old recliner, rocking back and forth on the creaky springs maybe even thinking about him. “He always favored that chair.”

“It’s hideous,” Anton’s mom whispered it into the receiver, recalling the sight of it in Anton’s room. “Even in Anton’s mess of a room.”

The brown fraying recliner did not match Anton’s shining gold trophies and medals that hung on his wall. It didn’t match his old race car bed frame he couldn’t bring himself to replace. The way the recliner sat made Anton’s cluttered room an even tighter fit, and the growth spurt he had last summer made it so he had to bend his legs if he wanted to sit on the floor.

The reclining chair from his father’s studio was replaced with leather imported from overseas. The shipment came from Italy and stood on sturdy wooden rings with a detached ottoman. The new recliner was minimalist and smelled like a new car. The old one was clunky, the lever was sentient, and the vinyl started peeling off years ago. Anton’s brother said it was disgusting and his father said himself that he was due for an upgrade.

Anton tried to remain indifferent to the old chair but when his mother asked for help to put it on the curb he found himself suddenly advocating for it to stay in the house. There was no reason for it to be downstairs in the studio where the new sofa was, and his mother would be damned putting it in the living room where anyone could see it. By the end of the day Anton was clearing out a place for the recliner in his room. Junyoung made that face of disgust and their mother tilted her head to the side.

He already had a beanbag he rarely used and a million other things that cluttered his room. Anton’s mother told her son this gently, but he had already set his mind to it. He “cleared” a space—pushed a pile of unfolded laundry and stuffed animals from one side of his room to the other—just to make a brand new home for the disgusting sofa. Junyoung and him carried the heavy recliner up the stairs, bumping into the banister as his mom watched and told them to be careful.

“He has a better use for it than I do.” Anton’s father said over the phone. Anton’s mom shook her head remembering her son’s promise of cleaning up his room. She also remembers that it felt like the entire family was in the room if she counted the chair. “Does he like it?”

“He likes sitting in it to do homework.” Anton’s mom from the kitchen peered up the stairs. From where she was she should be able to see directly into Anton’s room. She readjusted herself on her tiptoes, becoming more and more distracted as she tried to see what was going on. “But the one who’s really taken a liking to it is his friend.”

Before her husband could say your name back to her in a titled voice Anton’s mom put her hand over the receiver of the phone and projected her voice.

“Kids.” She spoke sweetly, including an endearing term for everyone to seem inconspicuous. She pretended like she was talking to Junyoung through his closed door. She waited for a moment, until she could hear the sound of Anton calling back to her. “Are you guys hungry?” She asked.

“No. You just made us lunch.” Anton spoke barely above a normal talking volume back.

Sound unfortunately carried easily even through half-shut doors. Anton’s mom had no reason to tell him to open the door all the way so she could snoop to her hearts content. Still though, she tried standing on her tiptoes again, desperately trying to see what was going on upstairs in her son’s room without prying.

“Lunch was really good by the way.” You said, even gentler than Anton’s.

“I can bring you guys up some snacks if you’d like?” She said back.

“Mom, we’re okay, really.” Anton’s voice told her that he knew what she was trying to do. She went back to the balls of her feet, trying to remember who was on the other side of the line.

“You don’t have to bring us anything, you already made us lunch.” Your sweet voice followed afterwards, a cute pitch that neither of her sons had.

“Okay.” She let go of the receiver, trying to get one last look into Anton’s room. When she only saw the tip of his head she finally gave up, letting go of the receiver and bringing the phone back to her face. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you Mom.”

“You bother them too much.” Her husband was amused on the other end of the line, even if his voice came out tired through the speaker. About seven thousand miles and fourteen hours separated them. “But do you think he’ll finally get furniture that matches?” He added.

His mother wasn’t completely against the idea of the recliner in Anton’s room. When her son looked back and for approval she nodded, and her approval made Junyoung follow suit. She liked the recliner because she hoped it would make Anton realize how juvenile the rest of his room was. The ill-fitted race car bed was from when he was a preteen and he’s amassed a collection of stuffed animals since he was a baby. The accolades from swimming was the most mature thing in her son’s room, even if there was a trophy from his little league days. Maybe the aged recliner would make Anton get things that accommodated his age. He could keep the gundam figurines because robots and guns are normal for kids his age, but not the colorful squishmallows.

When his mother followed up the steps she had to breathe in before telling Anton that he needed to declutter his space. She said it to the stuffed animals spilling out from the hammock fastened to the wall and the barely closed doors of his closet she didn’t dare to open. She looked at the gundam figurines lining what was supposed to be his school desk and unfolded laundry resting at the foot of his bed.

The recliner could also be a stand-in for his father. She figured that in some weird way the recliner filled the void while he made music overseas. Next time she’d reprimand her son she already envisioned casting a glance towards the chair, like her husband was there backing her up.

“Your mom definitely thinks we’re doing something we’re not supposed to.” You spoke while looking at your homework, settling deeper into the bean bag. Anton looked up from his notebook settled in between his bent legs. “She wants to come up here so bad.”

“What do you think she thinks we’re doing?”

Anton asked the question just to pull you from your assignment. He knew the answer already, he picked up the desperation in his mother’s voice and the way she gently reminded Anton to keep the door open before you came over. He liked acting clueless because you always shot him the look that asked if he was stupid and deadpanned the answer.

“She thinks we’re like,” Before the words could roll off your tongue you pause. It’s covered by the quiet mix coming through Anton’s CD player, but the way you avert your eyes and start picking at the corner of your paper makes it obvious. Anton looks back to his assignment too, trying to help you cover up the pause in your words. “kissing or something.” You finish.

Truthfully, what his parents think you two do when you’re left unsupervised is much worse than kissing. So much worse that Anton was sat down by his parents to have a terribly awkward safe sex talk. He didn’t know what he was doing in his dad’s home office or why they started the conversation with how you two met.

Anton already knew that you became friends when you were freshmen, pushed to the outskirts of your grade’s caste. Your shared niche taste in media brought you two close together at the cost of any chance at being popular. He already knew that his only other opportunity to make friends was through forced proximity of his teammates on the swim team, and you still had your friend from childhood. She was the complete opposite of you—and she made fun of Anton any chance she got—but she was nice. She was the only popular kid that actually seemed to engage with people from other cliques.

But Anton already knew that it was you and him against the world. He didn’t know why his mother implemented a rule that the door had to be open when you two are in his room. Anton was confused by all this because one day his parents viewed you as his one and only friend and the next day you were viewed as a girl that he could possibly be romantically involved with.

The way his parents acted around you made Anton look at you differently. He came to the conclusion that you were still the same, you still wore your baggy clothes and cursed almost every sentence and listened to the same music you always have. Anton had to tell his parents that you were still the same girl—and you were still only friends—even if you were seemingly getting prettier by the day. He had the moment of clarity when you two were in this exact position, where you were looking up at him asking what the answer was to a question on science homework. He came to the conclusion that him seeing you in a different light was based on technicality. Even if there was that girl on his swim team that asked him to the formal it made sense that you would be the subject of Anton’s dreams because you were always together.

But maybe it was the chair. Both of you assumed that Anton’s mom realized how ridiculous she was being, and that there was nothing her responsible son and his unassuming friend would do. She was also trying really hard to get you both to come with her to the store, but once you both lamented how responsible you were trying to be studying for an exam she left you be. She wrangled Junyoung instead to be her companion on the trip grocery store run, said a prayer, and then left.

With just you, Anton, and the CD playing in his room it was quiet. You mentioned the kissing or something to hide the fact it was all you ever thought about. Being left alone with him was harder these days. After your garage band was dissolved because Eunseok was visiting his grandparents for the rest of the month there was an extremely different air surrounding you two. Being partners for class projects was one thing, being alone in his room in an empty house was another.

There was no segue into you two kissing. One moment you were asking about that girl on Anton’s swim team and he was asking you about the boy from your English class. You told him that he was just a boy and Anton said she was just a girl. There was a stare that lasted too long and you holding your pencil so hard in your hand you thought it would break. When the silence became too much you reached forward, planting a kiss on the corner of Anton’s mouth. He hesitated, then he reciprocated, trig homework still bunched in his lap.

The kisses started off slow and awkward, neither of you knowing exactly what to do with all of eachother. The very act of crawling into Anton’s lap was humiliating for some reason, the sound of the notebooks and assignments being pushed to the side was embarrassing. Anton’s perpetually dry lips pressing to yours was slow, the overwhelming anticipation made first contact just feel like a regular touch. Anton was too nervous to ask you if you wanted to stop, and that was good because you were too embarrassed to tell him to do it again. Anton just silently stretched his legs fully until they pressed into the beanbag and he pulled you fully onto him, basically cradling you.

Lack of communication made you two just slip through the motions. You both just continued pressing your lips against eachothers while your faces heated up from embarrassment until contact started feeling like something more. You think it changed when Anton tilted his head slightly to one side and wet his lips. When he went back in after that it made you tilt your head to the other side, and then it felt like something was actually happening. Anton’s hand that kept you still on his lap went to your head when it was obvious you weren’t going anywhere. You felt his hands grip the back of your neck.

The hesitation from Anton to go into your hair made you gain your bearings long enough to finally create some distance. Anton’s hands left your body completely the second you moved, and you stood up immediately. You were dizzy from moving too quick and the view of Anton from above. His lips already looked different, plump from constant contact and wet from your shared spit. His tongue was peaking out before he let it go back into his mouth. His hands were pressed into the ground on either side of his body, and he looked so cramped in the small space between his bed and the wall. You looked from him to the recliner, trying to calm your racing heart. Each time you looked back to Anton he was already looking up at you, eyes wide and not moving an inch.

You two should’ve definitely talk about whatever was happening. Silence has served the both of you well up to this point. Anton started moving slowly backwards until he could sit in the recliner. It rocked back from his weight when he reached for his sweater, and Anton kept his fingers there. He didn’t move fully until he saw you kick off your slippers and reach for the button on your cargo pants.

Anton’s mom was currently shopping, Junyoung went with her because you and Anton needed to focus on studying for the Trigonometry exam in two days. Instead you two were engaged in a silent standoff, one staring at the other while you tried to figure out what to do next.

Anton moved first. When his room got too dark from the evening he reached to his bedside table quickly, pulling the string on his Yoshitomo Nara table lamp to light the area. Your bare thighs were suddenly illuminated, your body casting a shadow on the wall behind you. Your cargo pants were bunched behind you, leaving you in your stripped crew socks and your baggy shirts that left too much to the imagination. When Anton turned on the light he realized he could be seen clearly too. He hoped he looked good sitting on the recliner in front of you. Like a boyish Adam Yauch or another rockstar you were always talking to him about.

You moved second. You don’t count the tremor that wracked through your body but you counted your hands finally leaving your sides to reach for your waist instead. You looked from Anton’s face to his hands, you watched them clench as you tried willing yourself to loosen up. You were supposed to be calmer than Anton was. You were supposed to be breaking through the tension with a joke at Anton’s expense and he was supposed to laugh to lighten the mood. But both of you were silent, trying to suppress the clues that you simultaneously panicking.

You let out a deep breath, and another shake that was hidden underneath your layers of shirts. Your hands went to the waistband of your underwear, fingers going underneath the wrap around the elastic waistband. You’ve done this a million times, the setting and the audience were different but the motions were the same. You repeated that to herself over and over as you pulled your panties down, until you had to bend over to get them the rest of the way.

When you came back up Anton’s hands were no longer balled up on top of his thighs. They were gripping the armrest now, and he was getting that leg bounce you always teased him for. You didn’t say anything this time because you watched him try to stop it. He wiped his hands on his legs until he reached his knee. He grasped around the joint and held tight until his knuckles became white.

You had a handful of your underwear with cherries on it, still not taking a step towards him. That table lamp was expensive but it was never very bright. You thought about what Anton could see, if his eyes kept on darting down to her your because he didn’t like what he was seeing or because he couldn’t see it at all.

You stepped forward and Anton leaned back into his seat. You took another step and he leaned forward. The third step left him awkwardly between the two positions, and his leg started bouncing again. You did feel bad, like you were playing with him without meaning to. You and Anton had built up a rapport centered around you lightly bullying him and him taking it. You couldn’t remember the last time you two were in complete silence like this, or when you two were so sincere and so lost. But this was cruel for you too, because up until twenty minutes ago you thought that Anton wasn’t interested in you at all. Now you’re walking towards him thinking about how this could ruin your friendship forever, or if he became your friend solely at the prospect of getting in your pants. You knew the situation was unlikely because Anton was your friend when you didn’t want to be kind to yourself, but the more you think about it the more it makes sense why there’s so much hesitation.

You’re in front of the recliner now. Anton pulled his legs together until his knees touched, making his large body small so you could have the most space possible. It was a kind gesture, but you were too busy being completely silent to acknowledge it. Anton looked between your legs up to your face, leaning back so much the chair tilted back with him. You casted a shadow on his face, but you could still make up the way he was looking at you through it. He offered his hands on the armrest of the recliner, giving you a place of stability if you wanted to take it further. Anton only looked at your chest in passing, not pressing further even if all you focused on was the center of his white shirt. He leaned forward to take the shirt off too, tossing it in the same place his sweatshirt was.

Anton let out the smallest tremor. You looked at his silver necklace first, too afraid to look at his toned stomach. You could only get the courage to look at his broad chest, the way he looked against the back of the recliner. You had your hands on his shoulders when he pulled you onto his lap but looking at them now doesn’t make sense. You had seen the pictures of him with his shirt off, you’ve been to his swim meets before. Seeing him like this with no one else there was different. You couldn’t believe that this was the same guy who was lanky and bumping into everything the first time you met. This was a social outcast like you, someone who stayed in swim and orchestra because he wouldn’t have friends any other way. The same one who burned CD’s of nerd rock bands and idolized his father too much.

When Anton’s hand that was on the armrest went palms up you quickly put your underwear there. He was surprised, taking his attention away from your face to his hand. His hand went rigid underneath the fabric and Anton was still staring at it, he didn’t move until your hands went to his shoulders for leverage. Like he couldn’t touch you with the hand holding your panties his other went to you, stabilizing you as you straddled his lap on the creaky recliner.

For a moment it’s just you and Anton like that. Chest to chest, you hovering above his lap. Your eye level with him for what feels like the first time in your life, and the least amount of clothes separates the two of you. Even if you have on an undershirt, a long sleeve, and a band tee on it feels like your bare against Anton’s chest. Your hands stay on his shoulder and his arm stays on the lowest part of your waist that’s covered by clothes. His other hand closes around your underwear.

“I like that band.”

Anton said it still looking into your eyes. You looked down like you didn’t know what shirt you were wearing. You and Anton actually went to the show together, you both forgot earplugs so you spent a portion of the opening act stuffing toilet paper into eachothers ears.

You should've reminded him of that moment like he would've forgotten what you looked like looking up at him with worrying vocalizing concerns about toilet paper becoming permanently stuck in your ear. But instead you played with the chipping leather on the seat and nodded your head.

“I like them too.” You respond.

Another chance to talk about what’s happening dissolves in the air as you two settle into another bout of silence. Anton brings your underwear into your line of sight, a silent offering that for a split second you think is rejection. When you take it back you try to get off of him, but instantly both of his hands are on your waist keeping you in place.

He experiments, letting his hands slide further and further down until his hands are on your bare skin underneath all your shirts. Your skin is flaming and his hands feel like ice, you stiffen and Anton gets a better grip on you. You’re in the palm of his hands and your underwear is wedged between his shoulder blade and your hand. He keeps eye contact with you and applies the lightest force downwards. You give in immediately, and you feel the area you couldn’t bring yourself to look at before. Anton’s bulge is hard against your bare cunt, your combined heat overwhelms you. Already you can feel sweat lining your body underneath your shirts, and you can feel embarrassing wetness seep from you onto his boxers.

There’s barely anything separating the two of you. All Anton would have to do is pull down his waistband or reach into the fly of his boxers and pull himself out. Maybe he shouldn’t. You always imagined you’d lose your virginity in college when you'd miraculously become hot enough to bang, or when you got married and someone was contractually obligated to find you sexy. Everyone else in your grade seemed to be doing this but you and Anton prided yourselves on being different. You didn’t not imagine losing it to him, he was the first real boy that you ever thought about kissing when he got really handsome over the summer two years ago. But this seemed wrong, like you were doing this wrong. Even if it felt so good that your combined slick and his precum made the thin layer of his boxers wet, this felt wrong. Feeling the ridge of Anton’s dick shouldn’t feel so nice, and you shouldn’t want more. The anticipation shouldn’t feel so nice that nothing feels like it will be enough.

Even if you’ve convinced yourself that this is all wrong, you still drag your hips forward in the smallest motion. Suddenly the creaking from the recliner while you two were trying to find a comfortable position stops. The silence is so loud, it somehow overpowers the music playing in Anton’s room. His hands freeze on your waist, your blunt nails dig into his shoulder. You look down at where you two almost are so close to meeting. You can see the discoloration on his boxers, and if you really focus you can see yourself glistening. When you glance up quickly Anton is looking down too, even if his hands on your hip are still unmoving. He doesn’t look up from your hips, and then you grind against him again.

The third time you drag your hips on his is when the first sound leaves his lips. A quiet moan, a quick sound that’s almost muffled by his closed lips. You focus on Anton’s neck, watching his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. His hands dig a little more into your waist, and you drag your hips again. Without looking at Anton you move forward slowly, until your chin is resting in the crook of his neck. You have enough leverage now to apply more pressure, dragging your bare cunt on his clothed dick.

His hand left your hip when you let your first sound slip out. He went to pressing his hand to your lower back, then as though he was waiting for you first more sounds of his own started slipping out. You stayed focused on his Adam’s apple, the way it moves in his throat with each sound. You’re driven by watching it move, you purposefully drag your hips rougher against his, just to see the movement.

“Oh my God.” Anton’s hand creeps up under your shirt until you can feel his large hand pressed between your shoulder. “That feels so good.”

Anton’s voice is barely above a whisper. He does better than you, because you’re still completely silent, only nodding as you drag your hips on his again.

Beyond Anton’s comment that floated around in his cluttered room, you two went back to being silent. Just pitiful noises swapped between the two of you, trying to be silent while also seeing what the other liked. Anton gripped you a little tighter when you whimpered and your lips would press against his neck, and you liked feeling his moans ring through his chest.

“Should I—“ Anton moved, trying to offer something that got stuck in his throat “Do you want me to—”

The gesture towards your exposed bottom half made you shake your head on instinct. When you tried to pause his hand over your shirt kept you moving, tiny swivels against him. You were making a mess on his boxers, grinding on him like a dog in heat. You never heard about this being so embarrassing. You know it’s painfully obvious you’ve never been touched this way before.

“I hear it helps.” Anton’s fingers dig into your shirt when you pause again. “And I’ll try to make it feel good for you.”

Anton’s hand is already drifting down when you nod your head. He leaves your waist and settles between your legs, cramming his long fingers through the space where your hips meet. Both of you let out a sigh at the same time, even when it’s just his inexperienced hand bumping into your clit. You still coat his fingers and he repeats the same awkward motion.

“You’re so wet.” Anton whispers.

You say sorry even though you've never apologized for anything in your life. You sound so sincere it makes Anton shake his head.

"Don't apologize." He says quickly, repeating the motion.

He lifts his head from the recliner to look down, watching his fingers disappear as you continue your tiny grinds. He experiments with you. He scissors his fingers against your folds, he pushes a finger between them and glides down. He is operating off terrible guesswork and the sounds you make, when you try to stifle something by biting your lip or shaking your head slightly.

You know Anton wants you to tell him what to do. At some point his gaze moved to the side of your face, intense and burning while he continued doing something with his fingers. You were figuring it out too, what you liked. Bossing Anton around was easier in different circumstances, but now he was beginning to pout when nothing he was doing was working. When you hear a whimper bubbling in his throat you take a chance, leaving your crumpled panties draped over his shoulder to drop your hand down.

You press two fingers to your clit and look at Anton’s chest, trying to find that place in your room on top of your bed where you did this the most.

“Like this.”

You say it quietly, soft motions that make you bump and grind on his hand. He keeps his hand still for you, and you continue grinding on the side of his hand. The slick sound replaces the silence in the room, only interrupted by the sound of your bodies moving on top of the fraying cushion.

Anton watches you for a moment, nodding like he’s the one touching your clit. You have to give him some credit, because he’s takes the leap to reach his hand from your waist to replace your fingers with his.

You don’t know how to deal with the fact that Anton is bringing you pleasure like this. There’s something that creeps on you, burning on your cheeks as you start huffing into Anton’s neck. He tries his best to make it feel good for you, and he does it well. He’s attentive, learns too fast and continues to go when your hands would’ve started cramping.

“Ton.” You whimper.

“Am I doing it right?” He asks.

You grind on Anton’s hand and the other works your clit. You’ve never felt the extent of stimulation like this, grinding on something desperately while having another thing on your clit. There’s also never been someone but yourself doing this for you.

The more you pathetically grind on Anton’s hand the hotter your cheeks feel, and then you feel sweat lining your body underneath your shirts.

You know something else is going to happen when Anton gets quiet again. He’s too nervous to ask what to do next and you’re too busy chasing after something to tell him. But you feel his hand go to your ass to lift you, and his hand that was on your clit goes further and further down until he presses into your entrance.

Your fingers take him in too fast. You sigh into his neck, and your hands move to press into Anton’s chest. Your underwear is caught between your hand and his body, the wrinkled fabric against him.

You start grinding against his fingers inside of you. With your chest heaving you pull away from Anton’s neck, trying your best to hide how scared you are to look up at him. You find comfort in the fact that his cheeks are flushed and tinted red too, and that sweat is making hair stick to his forehead. You find enough courage to look at Anton directly, and you chase after that feeling you were trying to suppress.

Anton is pressed into the recliner watching you bounce on his fingers. He keeps his fingers the same for you, not daring to move an inch while he watches you. His chest is heaving watching you. How far gone Anton is could be bizarre, but you’ve been in similarly gone thinking about him in this situation. His fingers feel just as good as you thought they would, and he’s so insistent on getting you somewhere he’s silent, not saying a word so he can focus completely on you.

“I can handle it.” You say it quickly. The first time you feel Anton’s fingers move inside of you is when your words register. Now it’s you reaching for Anton’s dick, an unsteady hand sticking right through the fly in his boxers. When you feel him heavy and sticky in your hands you pulse around his fingers “Let’s do it.”

“Are you sure?” Anton asks the question purely on technicality. Both of you have already made it this far, not thinking about the consequences. You don’t even know what you’re sure of, besides the fact that Anton is twitching in your hand and a sigh racks through his entire body when you pull him out through his boxers.

There’s only hesitation when you felt Antons’ tip prod your entrance. You held onto his shoulders tight, keeping yourself suspended above him. The music stopped at some point, leaving you two with the creaky wood and springs in the recliner and your tense breathing.

“I’m really glad you’re here.” Anton says it like you haven’t spent almost everyday after school at his house for the past three years. His hand is still holding the base of his dick, his bicep flexing with each moment. You sink just a little deeper. His fingers couldn’t compare to this, because you’ve already felt yourself seize up again and Anton is letting out a tense breath at how tight you already feel. “But if you want me to stop, just say so.”

“I want to keep going.” You say it, but you still are in the same place above his dick. Feeling his tip makes you lightheaded, and having him wait for you to move makes you want to crumble into him again. You can feel Anton let out a choked gasp when you sink a little further. You’ve made it past his tip, swollen and twitching inside of you when you retreat back to his neck. “Help me the rest of the way.”

You feel his head nod against yours, and then you feel his hand leave between your two bodies to wrap around your waist instead. He readjusts his grip on you, and you can feel your soft skin peaking through the space in his fingers. Anton has felt your frame underneath your layers of clothes, you feel tiny compared to him. You feel weak too, because Anton starts pulling you down slowly on top of him.

“Try to relax.” Anton croaks into your ear when you seize around him. “You’re too tight.”

Selfishly, you start making loud noises in Anton’s ear to try and relieve some of the pressure. He lets out a strained sound back to you, slowly working you down the rest of the way. He’s too big, the stretching from his large fingers did nothing to stretch you out. He’s a tight fit, and you’re getting tighter the more you think about how there’s somehow more of him to go.

Just before you curse into his ear, you feel yourself sitting on his lap. Anton is fully inside of you. Your hands are pressed to his chest and you feel like your body is melding into the recliner. Anton’s hands on your waist twitch and grasp at you. When you seize around him Anton pitches forward head hung low. You can see him scrunch his face, his eyebrows knitting together in concentration. You get used to him fast. From the very beginning you wanted more, and when your nails dig into his shoulder you finally get enough leverage to lift yourself on his lap.

Anton pulls in a deep breath fast and holds it. You do all the work, going up as high and you can before you can drop again. You repeat the motion, waiting for Anton to bring up his hanging head or to make a sound. He seems so helpless, almost shaking his head as his hands on your hips gets more desperate. You want to pull his head up manually so he has to look at you, but you can’t bring yourself to say a word. You grind on him when you sink fully down, feeling him writhe in your gut. You start hanging your head too, unable to find the strength to lift yourself up again.

Despite begging inwardly for Anton to lift your head, when he finally finds the strength to do it, you press your cheek to his. Physically touching is the contact you need, and not being able to see his face keeps you from burning up. The contact was what Anton needed to, because when your flushed cheeks smushed together he let moans slip from his parted lips louder. You were whimpering against his cheek, looking out the window behind the recliner to his yard.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” Anton whispered it directly in your ear, fanning the side of your face with his quick breath. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling your clothed body against his bare chest. Your hands move to the back to the recliner and it tips backwards from the added weight. “I’ve—I’ve thought about this for so long.” He adds.

Over the top of the recliner you could see the backyard. During that summer before Anton’s dad cleared out the garage your band used to play there. You never would’ve thought that being in the backyard would lead you hear. The recliner creaks when Anton’s hand move underneath your ass, lifting you up slightly to bring you down.

“I’ve thought about this too.” You say it even quieter than Anton did, nodding your head against his. His skin is so soft against yours, you keep moving your head just to feel his skin catch on yours. You start working with his strength to lift yourself on your knees.

The rhythm you and Anton build up is messy. The inclination of knowing music is out the window, the two of you lack pattern chasing after something. Anton can’t figure out if he wants to hold you tight by your waist or keep a tight grip on your ass. You can’t will away the burn working in your thighs, and you can’t work with the small space you have on the recliner. The chair tilts back and forth, screaming from the extra weight.

The louder you and Anton get the louder the recliner gets too. When you curse and say tell Anton that you’re close the chair is almost louder than you.

“I think I’m close too.” Anton’s hand works up your back, ending with his large hand over the back of your neck. He squeezes and your body reacts by squeezing him tight. You make Anton’s next moan come out strained, his sentence is cut off when he experimentally squeezes the back of your neck again. “Does that feel good?”

You know his question comes from a genuine place of worry. He’s had a reputation of being so gentle with you it was unbearable at times. You wore baggy clothes and hung out with the boys in an effort of becoming one of them. Everyone seemed to know that except for Anton, always treating you like you were liable to break. Even when you know he wants to continue chasing after that feeling and bring you down on his dick faster he’s gentle, letting you set the pace and just helping you when your legs fail. He clenches the back of your neck a third time, and it feels like his concerns become dirty talk. You want him to ask you if he’s too big for you in that same worried tone, or too ask you if you’re sure you’re close.

“Feels good Anton.” The chair continues to creak underneath you too. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on one thing. He’s unknowingly overstimulating, despite the fact that he’s quiet and gentle with you. You’re filling in the gaps, letting your imagination run beyond you two and this recliner. You think about your shared time together as friends, like the moment at the rock show when Anton’s hand gripped you the same way they do now. Like he doesn’t want to let go of you, like you’re his and he’s yours. “I’m really close.”

“Can I look at you?”

Anton asks the question in between the recliner creaking and him bringing you back down on his twitching dick. He offers you the chance to ignore him, but you’re slowly nodding your head against his again.

With the gentle grip on the back of your neck Anton brings your face away from his. The split second you summon your remaining courage, following his gentle pull. You’re face to face with Anton. The recliner seems to get a little quieter, both of your hips falter when you make eye contact. Anton’s pupils are blown wide, his lips are parted and swollen. You see his tongue peak out, running over that place he always touches with his fingers. His hair falls in front of his face, bangs almost covering his eyes completely. You push his bangs out of the way quickly, both of your hands still cradling his face. You run your thumb over his cheek for a moment and Anton’s hand kneads your skin.

The second time you go in to kiss Anton is different from the first. Instead of closing your eyes and lurching forward it’s deliberate. You keep your eyes open until Anton closes his, squeezing his cheeks a little harder when you finally feel his lips press to yours.

Anton’s hand on the back of your neck moves to your face. You’re tilting your head and then he’s tilting it for you. You can hear your lips moving against eachother, then the feeling of his tongue poking your bottom lip. You open your mouth slow, and then it’s Anton’s tongue pressing flat against yours. You curve your tongue and mix spit, overextending the gap in your mouth to get a better taste.

The action is messy, Your spit is smeared along the perimeter of Anton’s mouth when you start riding him again. It’s a simple motion, that’s closer to grinding than actually fucking yourself. But it’s enough to get Anton to hold your face still and separate your lips from his. Anton brings your head together until your foreheads touch. He’s breathing heavily as you continue grinding against his lap, just repeating the small motion. You can feel Anton’s body bumping into your clit, and you hear his breathing turn into his chest heaving.

You don’t stop grinding, you open your eyes and see Anton looking through half-lidded eyes right back at you. You whimper and continue grinding, and one of his hand’s leaves your face to hold your ass. He speeds up your hips, and you hear the terrible creak in the recliner. You’re sure something will give out any minute, and right before the chair can rock all the way back Anton freezes underneath you. His words are caught in his throat, you think you hear him curse for the first time in your life before he leans his entire body against the back of the recliner. You continue riding him, and both of you become louder than the recliner. You’re cursing back at Anton, digging your nails into his skin and balling up your underwear in the palm of your hand.

“Baby.” Anton moans, pathetic and loud. He projects towards the ceiling, eyes squeezed shut. His grip on your waist is bruising, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. Your moans turn into loud grunts, and your grinds turn into flicks against his skin. “Too much. Too much.” He whines.

You nod your head quickly, flicking your hips three times before you finally feel relief. You let out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding, and your whole body starts to collapse. You heave out each breath, your chest shaking. You have to breathe in deep to center yourself, and you seize around him each time you try to ground yourself. Anton is shaking his head against the back of the recliner. With each breath you get closer and closer to Anton, until your chest is pressing against his and his arms wrap around you to pull you in for a hug.

When you move again Anton hisses right in your ear. You playfully grind against him again, and Anton weakly lifts you up until his dick slides out of you. He’s still half hard, landing against his stomach with a wet slap. He lets you lay back down on him, and you shiver when your bare cunt rests on his dick.

You’re laying against Anton’s chest for awhile. You can hear his heart rate finally start to slow down. His hand creeps underneath your layer of shirts, rubbing his hand on your bare back. Like it’s the most intimate thing you’ve done in the past hour he’s awkward, only continuing the massaging motion when you sigh contently against him.

Your shared sweat starts mixing with Anton’s welding you both to the peeling vinyl. You already feel disgusting against underneath your shirts, and the cold sweat from Anton that seeps through to you.

“Your mom will be back soon.” You murmur.

You feel warmth seep out of you and you shiver again. You hum against his chest, feeling your eyelids get heavy.

Anton’s mom came through the door with Junyoung behind her. He had a handful of grocery bags, walking past her to go to the kitchen. She was busy standing on her tiptoes, and the moment she saw the closed door to Anton’s room her heart dropped. Junyoung was already going back outside to get the groceries when she said out loud she was going to get Anton.

Up the stairs she was contemplating on what to do Should she stomp up the stairs a little louder to give you two fair warning? Should she sneak up and try to catch you two in the act? Junyoung came back inside with more bags in his hands. He complained about wanting help before going back out, whispering under his breath that he was leaving the heavy stuff for Anton.

His mom cleared the stairs and walked across the landing to her sons door. She held her head to the door first, trying to pick up on anything. At the sound of the recliner creaking loudly she knocked and opened the door in one go, preparing for the worst.

When she opened the door she found Anton in the recliner, in his white shirt and sweatpants. He was alone in the room, looking up from his assignment to his mother standing in the doorframe. Anton stopped rocking in the chair, the loud creaking coming to an end. She scanned the room quickly, trying to remember the reason why she came up here.

“She had to go home before it got to dark.” Anton said, answering her question.

“I’m making dinner, I would’ve given her a ride home.”

Anton shrugs, clutching something in his hand. She sees that his pencil is on his bedside table. She really shouldn’t press the issue any further. She already stormed into her son’s room expecting to catch him in the act. She’s guilty, she lets go of the doorknob and almost turns around without saying another word. She sees Junyoung come inside again, more bags of food clutched in his hand.

“Can you help your brother with the groceries?” She trades the order for a suggestion, trying to compensate for the intrusion in her room. Anton nods and shifts in the recliner, causing it to creak. He looks back down to his paper. “Whenever you finish what you’re working on.” She adds quickly.

“No it’s okay, I was done anyways. I’ll be down in a little bit.” Anton says and gets up from his chair. She leaves the room completely, her husband saying she needs to leave her son alone playing in her mind again and again.

When his mom leaves the room he turns around to face towards the chair. He looks out the chair behind the window, looking at his backyard to where you climbed your bike to pedal back home. He insisted that you stay, but you seemed really adamant on leaving saying you had to be home at a certain time. When Anton hears his mom make her way down the stairs he looks down to his clenched fist. He really wanted you to stay, and the only thing that convinced him he didn’t do something wrong was your parting gif. Anton opens up his hand to see your crumpled pair of underwear expand in his palm. He sighs and clutches it again before opening the top drawer of his bedside table and putting it inside. He closes the drawer and sighs again, turning off his lamp to help with the groceries.

#01zfan: anton #anton smut #riize smut

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bunnipuffs · 19 hours ago

Note

requesting for dark!pervy!Ellie who is friends with fem!reader

at first, Ellie is being the sweet and caring friend (holding reader’s bags when going out shopping, paying for things, taking care of reader, girlfriendy behavior without being gfs)

then slowly overstepping boundaries b/c Ellie is slowly revealing her true colors (becoming touchy and clingy, acting jealous, being controlling, degrade&belittle reader to hurt her feelings)

hopefully this could spark some ideas if you’re comfy with writing this <3 can be sfw and nsfw hehe ^3^

oh my god YUUMMMMYYYY thank you for this anon i actually just went dizzy at the thought of this mmmmm so yum ……… THANK YOU !!!!!!! <3<3<3 enjoy !!! (✿◠‿◠)

⋆˙⟡ dark! pervy! ellie who’s so sweet to you, days of seemingly endless love and care. your head is filled with flowers and all things pretty until one day, it’s not.

♡ . — ꒰ sfw ꒱

ellie who always makes sure you’re fed. your messages from her mostly consist of her asking if you ate, and if you even tried to step around it, “i did! had a little snack <3 thanks els” you’d still receive a knock at your door—your favorite meal and drink in ellie’s hands. she gets a little cranky when you say “snack,” she knows for a fact that you didn’t eat properly. there’s no way around it! ellie just wants you to be full and energized for the day.

ellie who immediately takes out her card when you complain about not having enough money for something. whether it’s something as small as a cute keychain, a sweater, or hell, even a $200 purse, she’s faster than you are. you already hear the loud beep! of it going through, ellie grabbing your shopping bags before she lets you drag her to the next store over. your arms are wrapped around her bicep tightly, repeating a sweet “thank you!” over and over again.

ellie who’s at your apartment as soon as she hears your nasally voice over the phone. she has a plastic bag full of medicine and spends her time in your kitchen making you a nice warm meal, spoon-feeding you and sitting right by your side as she hands you a water bottle with a pill to take for your illness. she’s patting your head and telling you “good job,” before she tucks you in, cleaning up your apartment while you sleep. she doesn’t even think about leaving until you’re better!

ellie who looks at you with something indescribable when you tell her that you met someone while you were working, and planned on hanging out with them at the local cafe. she asks you a lot of questions, who? where do they live? what do they look like? it’s not long before it slowly progresses into questions like what’d they say to you? is that them texting you right now? why are they bothering you so much? you often catch a glimpse of ellie’s head whipping towards your phone when it dings, her eyes glued onto your screen.

ellie who sits right behind you at said local cafe, on the day that you and that “friend” planned to go out. a black hoodie on and funny-looking sunglasses to pair, she’s stirring a cup of coffee (she didn’t even like coffee) while she listens to you laugh and giggle like you did with her. what the fuck was so funny? she thinks, she feels something boiling beneath her skin. it didn’t sit right with her that you were spending your precious time with someone so undeserving. she should’ve been sat across you, watching your eyes crinkle and your pretty lips sip at your beloved drink. you and ellie had been to this cafe a hundred times by now, and it grew something dangerous in her stomach knowing that someone else had taken her place.

ellie who blankly stares at you when you show her your outfit for the next hangout, you’re leaving in a few minutes, smiling and twirling in front of the mirror. you’re wearing a cute little skirt, a nice frilly blouse for your top. your makeup is done perfectly and you gush about how you’ve made a good friend, that they enjoy the same things as you, and the fact that they think you’re pretty. ellie finally snaps at that, a mean scoff leaving her lips. you flinch at the sound—ellie had never done that with you. “i wouldn’t be so happy, honestly, i mean..” ellie comes up behind you, her hand trailing down to the end of your skirt. it’s short, and ellie lifts it just enough, exposing bits of your bare thigh. “i love it, but, what if they think you’re a whore? dressed like that?” she continues, letting go of the fabric.

ellie who feels pure satisfaction blooming in her chest when your smile fades away, you nod in response, not saying anything. a whore? you didn’t want that. your eyes are teary at the insult, lip trembling, before you make your way to your dresser. you fish out a pair of jeans, pulling your skirt off in front of ellie. she quickly snaps a picture of you before you’re all dressed up again. you keep facing your old wooden dresser, looking at the chips and dents. you’re afraid of ellie seeing you cry. but she knows you are, and she’s suddenly pulling you into her arms and rubbing your back, soft cries pulled from your throat. she hums into your hair, “awh, c’mon, don’t cry. y’know i’m just looking out for you, right?” you can’t feel the grin pressed against you, ellie cooing when you hiccup. “don’t wanna ruin your pretty makeup, so stop crying.”

ellie who is more than pleased to know that you haven’t been wearing your skirts around them anymore, and she feels even better when you suddenly receive a photo from an unknown number—a picture of you, asleep in only your panties and a tank top, your leg over a pillow exposing your ass and legs. you feel bile rise in your throat when you open it. who? but ellie always has an answer to your problems, and she advises you not to speak to your “good” friend anymore. your head is in ellie’s lap, pink cheeks stained with tears while she gently runs her fingers through your hair. “it’s really weird that this happened when you met, i don’t think it’s a good idea to talk to them anymore..” you didn’t question how they had found your apartment, or even how they got in. but you’d never know that ellie had been the one to sneak into your apartment. you had given her an emergency key if anything had happened since you lived alone, and ellie had never used it before. but ellie was getting tired of hearing about this loser, and she quietly walked into your room late at night, pulled out her phone and took a picture of you. unconscious and vulnerable. the best part was that you would never accuse her of something like that. you trusted ellie, she wouldn’t do that to you.

♡ . — ꒰ nsfw ꒱

ellie who asks for your phone from time to time, looking through your messages and buying you ice cream when she doesn’t see anyone new lingering in your inbox. she waits till you’re distracted doing something else, cleaning your living room, your kitchen, organizing clothes, before she looks through your gallery and sends herself your selfies and other… pictures you’ve taken. she quickly opens up her phone to save them before deleting them on your end. they weren’t nudes, but some of them made ellie sticky in her boxers, a particular photo of you with your tongue out and wearing your favorite pajama set. she thinks about using your mouth to get herself off, groaning at the thought of your lips covered in her arousal.

ellie who uses the secret pictures she’s taken of you to masturbate, the one of you asleep her favorite one by far. she’s cumming at the thought of your pretty face crying when she called you a whore, your glossy eyes when you received that picture of you unconscious, she doesn’t even really need the picture at this point—but it makes her even hornier that you’re so naive. she likes the reminder of her influence on you, how easy you believed her. she’s gritting out your name when she makes a mess all over her pillow, imagining it as your body.

ellie who takes you out for another mall date as usual, she lets you wear anything you want around her—but you’ve noticed that every time you’re wearing a skirt, ellie’s hands brush against your ass for a second, and it seems to be happening more and more. she gives you a sheepish smile and apologizes, “i’m walking too close, i wasn’t paying attention,” but you can’t see her behind you, you can’t see her eyes fixated on your plump ass peaking from beneath the fabric, calculated touches on ellie’s end. you start ignoring it when you realize it just keeps happening, maybe she really is just doing it by accident. she’s holding a lot of bags, and there’s a lot of people. it gets distracting inside of a packed mall!

ellie who gets a little too touchy one night. she’s staying over at your apartment again since you felt paranoid about someone sneaking in, and you’re fast asleep in her arms almost immediately. ellie tucks a stray loose of hair behind your ear, your warm breaths against her tattooed arm. she doesn’t realize her hand is already slowly drifting down your chest, a finger gently tugging down your top to reveal your nipple. she brushes over it, carefully, the bud hardening at her touch. ellie lets out a small noise seeing it, wanting nothing more than to lick at it, bite until it’s all sore. she quickly fixes your clothing when you shuffle in her grasp, her heart pounding against her chest. she hopes it doesn’t wake you up.

ellie who peeks into your bathroom while you’re showering. you’ve recently kept the door open while you did your business because you were anxious, and ellie needed to get to you in time if something happened. ellie does her best to see you through the glass, your blurry naked figure moving around as you rinse yourself off. she can’t make out your face at all, but she can see the outline of you, your perky tits, the dips of your hip, she can faintly see your ass as you grab and smooth over it with soap. ellie’s slipping a hand down her pants while she stares, playing with herself as she continues looking at you. she’s moaning softly against the edge of the door, circling her clit in fast circles. she didn’t have the time to drag it out like she usually did, edging herself to pictures of you or your sleeping face next to her. you were going to be done soon—and ellie cums as soon as you’re groping your tits, washing innocently.

ellie who tells you to quit your job. she can’t risk you meeting someone else, and she’d have to go through that same process all over again. you were stupid to believe her the first time, but a second? you’d obviously pick up on something. ellie couldn’t have that. she tells you “i’ve already been paying for everything, i might as well move in since i’m here all the time.” initially, you’re a bit worried. rent was expensive! your full time job wasn’t even cutting it, how would you both pay for rent if you couldn’t? but ellie quickly shushes you with her usual excuses, and eventually, it doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all. ellie could protect you if something were to happen again. you quit your job and with a short notice to joel, ellie moves in the next week.

ellie who can’t help but kiss you when you’re sleeping. it’s only the third night of you both living together, but your lips are right there, right in front of her, and all the restraint in her body had left a long time ago—she’s pressing wet kisses to your mouth, her tongue licking at your lips. all over it, disgustingly so, but you’re so sweet. ellie can’t get enough. she’s eventually pulling down your panties, her face buried in between your legs, licking feverishly at your pussy. you wake up to the stickiness between you, your eyes widening when you see your best friend below you. she’s staring up at you without shame, like she was waiting for you to wake up. there’s something dark swimming in her eyes, and she doesn’t stop even when you’re thrashing under her hold. her hands are pinning your thighs to your bed, her tongue making it’s way into your hole. you’re far too deep to fight back, the drowsiness of sleep and the unbearable heat in your cunt hard to push away. “come for me first, i’ll stop then—please, i need it,” you try to respond, but her fingers find your clit and she’s rubbing you so good that it makes you squirt all over her tongue, your slick coating her slender fingers. you’re panting heavily, chest aching with how desperately you’re trying to catch air, and ellie is suddenly hovering right above you. she presses a kiss to your forehead, gentle and loving, unlike her a few moments ago. “i’m all you need, okay? just me, say it, please.” you gulp, the familiar feeling of fear spreading in your chest. you stare back up at her with those teary eyes she loved, “you’re all i need, els.”

#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #˚ෆ 🩰🦢 .° ༘

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magical-awesome-kid · 7 hours ago

Text

I looked at the councilwoman in disbelief.

I was now twenty, having spent most of my life studying and learning, practicing, mastering magic. I could now down a young dragon, though my parents and teachers had always said that was barely the standard for a student my age.

And here I was, applying for the Master’s exam, and the magistrate had to tell me this.

“I’m… the youngest?”

“By a long shot.” She said, her smile confused. She was in her mid thirties, maybe a little later. I’d honed my senses to detect the faintest signs of illusion magic, so this was how she actually looked.

“Why, yes. Most people don’t take this exam until they’re in their thirties.” She nodded. “I only took mine five years ago, when I was forty-five.”

“Wait, you’re fifty??? I thought you were thirty-five!”

“Oh! You’re a charmer.” She waved her hand. “Good genes and a few good skin potions for the wrinkles, but, yes, and I was considered quite young for my time then. Most mages your age are applying for schools and discovering their specialties, after all.”

Specialties? I’d taken the coursework at seven.

Because that is what it takes to be a good wizard. My mother had tutted.

Not even good. Just basic. My teachers had added.

“So, hypothetically, when do most people start studying magic…?”

She hummed. “I think most teenagers begin to dabble, but most people do not seriously commit until they are in their twenties. Magic has a way of extending one’s life, after all, and life experience often is a large part of discovery and Magic.”

I felt my soul shatter in my chest. All the years of lies. Of telling me that only the wealthy could have magic, and therefore the most powerful must hone their magic young, lest they lose it.

I’d never gotten to just be because they’d expected me to be a magnificent wizard.

They used me.

Something trailed down my face.

I reached up and found tears on my cheeks. I hadn’t cried in front of someone in so long…

“Oh, oh no, honey….”

The interview changed very rapidly after.

From the long desk and hard chair, we’d moved to a small side room with squishy chairs, walls of books, and a warm atmosphere that welcomed someone in. The woman dried my eyes and handed me water, allowing me to collect myself.

I told her of what I’d been told. Of what I experienced.

Her face darkened.

“I must admit, I had heard of your family.” She admitted. “Your parents always painted you as a naturally gifted child, that you mastered magic like it was breathing.”

It hadn’t been. It was gruesome work.

By the end, I just felt disgusted. They expected me to take the exam and take a place in the Magical Ministry, rise the ranks, just as a half-way decent wizard was expected to.

And I wanted nothing more than to crawl back in time and shake my younger self, tell them to use that Fly spell and escape out the window, go play with the town children instead of being locked in the tower.

I spilled my guts because I didn’t know what else to do.

“If I may.” The councilwoman, Grace, said as she set her coffee to the side. “For all that magic is grand, Chronomancy has always been finicky at best.” She joked, and my lips perked some at that. “While we can’t turn back the clock, we can do something going forward.”

“Like what?”

She waved her hand, and a folder flew off the shelf and flew to her. “You are the same age as someone in University, and I happen to know quite a few school professors who wouldn’t mind adding a student to their ranks. Meet people your own age, explore your interests both in and outside of the magical sciences.

“And, if you are worried about being known, I do have one other option.” She pulled out a small slip, handing it over.

It was a posting from the Adventurer’s Guild.

“I spent my latter twenties traveling with a crew of Adventurers.” She admitted. “It was like nothing I’d done before, and it was the kind of time I needed to find who I wanted to be. I’m still friends with many of them to this day. I can help you find a guild, a team, whatever you want to do. Most level E adventurers are in their teens, but I think I can get you in as a D or C without revealing too much about your magical past. Anyone there would accept you just as what you want to present.”

I took the slip. There was a crude drawing on it of a warrior, a cleric, a rogue, and a mage. The note has a call for new adventurers.

Adventuring had always been a field of tight contention among the wealthy and powerful. Adventurers were largely civilians to start, and, while they generally followed the rules of the land, they rarely bowed unless it was warranted to their morals. Powerful adventurers would rise to attend events amongst nobility, and they oft stepped on every unsaid rule without worry.

My own parents had often spoken of Adventurers as annoyances, only being polite because it was a means to an end, and even then, some Adventurers just did not care.

If nothing else, it would absolutely piss them off.

“Can you tell me more about Adventuring?”

Learning magic is an arduous journey, requiring sacrifice and dedication. Your parents made you give up your childhood to study magic—only after completing your studies do you learn that most other mages actually choose to start in adulthood.

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prcttyfairies · 2 days ago

Text

mississippi delta, elias 'stack' moore & elijah 'smoke' moore

pairing: elias 'stack' moore x cicely 'angel' james x elijah 'smoke' moore

content: cicely james mother gets the courage to leave her father and heads back to the mississippi delta, where her brother and the twins wait on their arrival at the train station.

warnings: mention of child abuse, mention of human trafficking, strong language, racial slurs.

an: so i did end up seeing the movie again. the movie theatre by my house sells tickets for $5 on tuesdays so i went again. and i wanted to alter the story a little bit, but i want you guys to decide which one i should stick to. my first one or this one. i'm gonna put a poll out so you guys can decide.

Mississippi Delta, 1921

Cicely James was born in Clarksdale, Mississippi, spending six years of her life in the Delta before her parents made their choice to claim the land her Daddy, Otis James had back in Georgia. He had used his skills of farming, taking care of animals, selling crops to the best of his abilities, to care for his family. Yet, when the time came, and it had, his drunken habits often haunted Cicely at night. However, an innocent mind like her own always managed to forgive when morning came and his apologies filled the room for his foul behavior.

But for Clayton James, he wasn’t that easily persuaded. His Daddy left bruises on him, his mama, his sisters, the time came when he just couldn’t suffer no more. It all couldn’t be forgotten no matter how much he tried for the sake of them. And he had made his decision, and he had begged and pleaded his mama to make a decision not only for herself but his sisters. Seraphine James was close to it. But she couldn’t leave her husband. That loved disguised as fear being too strong for her to make a bold move like that sending her boy on his way.

It seemed as years passed, all she needed was a strong push.

Cicely hadn’t known what was happening. She woke up, scared out of her sleep with new bruises over her body from the night prior. She thought it was Otis coming back to lay on more punishment, but instead it was her Mama, Seraphine’s' voice shaken, as she whispered slowly for Cicely to rise with haste. She had done the same to Lily-Mae, the youngest of the three children the women had birthed.

With keys taken from her father’s coat jacket, her mother put as much as they could carry in the motor, just to drive away from home and not look back. Lily-Mae found herself resting whilst Cicely couldn’t allow sleep to take over her until she got answers from her mother. The truth.

And the truth was what Seraphine reluctantly gave her; “He was gon’ sell you girl,” words that Cicely never thought she’d hear, “A man willin’ to pay a lot of money to have you as his housewife, I couldn’t allow that.” She shakes her head as her emotions take over, jaw clenching, with tears glossing over her rage filled eyes, “Not my baby, not my Cicely.”

The rest of the drive to the station was quiet. Cicely holding her mama’s hand through her tears until they stopped. When they arrived, Seraphine did the smart thing, selling the motor for some money to buy their tickets and get them to where they needed to go. Back to Seraphine’s home where she was raised and never should’ve left. The Mississippi Delta.

Cicely was curious about what their plan was. What were they going to do? Who were they going to stay with? As far as she could remember they didn’t have much when they left so she didn’t think they’d have anything upon their return, twelve years later.

On the train Lily-Mae could barely even rest. Seraphine scolded her youngest to stay seated and do as she was told afraid she would disturb the folk around them. Even made the mistake of almost falling on a woman, a white woman at that.

Cicely eyes had widened, moving to grab her sister's arm, “I-I’m so sorry, Ma’am, she should’ve been watching what she was doing.” She was quick to apologize for her sister's mistakes keeping the ten year old at her side.

Instantly the women shook her head, couldn’t had been any younger then Cicely, brunette hair pinned into a bob with a beauty mark on her right cheek, “Don’t you worry ‘bout nothin’, kids her age gotta find a way to let out that energy of theirs,” she smiled kindly, reaching over as she brushed a strand of Lily-Mae’s curly hair out of her face. Cicely was surprised by her kindness but it was appreciated, “Might I ask what y’all names are, you do look quite familia’”

Cicely hesitated for a moment before she answered, “My name is Cicely James ma’am, and this here is my younger sister, Lily-Mae.” She introduced them.

The woman's eyes widened, her smile expending a length of joy as a small gasp escaped her lips, “Cicely James?!” the spoke of girl brows furrowed in confusion at how she spoke her name as if it was a reminder, “Well I’ll be, it’s me! Mary Boone.”

At the name being spoken aloud, Cicely allowed it to click in her head, “Mary?!” she sounded just as surprised as the women in front of her. She was grown just as she was, letting it sink in that the last time she had seen her she was six years old, but thinking now the resemblance she was ashamed that she couldn’t see it before, “My god, I didn’t even recognize you,” Mary had stood from her seat on the train pulling Cicely into a warm embrace taking her by surprise, even having Lily looking between them in astonishment.

“Well, don’t you worry about it now you know who I am and we can sit and catch up,” Mary says through small laughter in joy. When she pulled back she looked down at Lily-Mae, “And you I hope I have the pleasure of get to knowin’”

Cicely placed her hand on her sister’s shoulder, “Lily-Mae was born some time after we moved to Georgia,” she explained, Lily only ever growing up around the folk in Georgia having no memory of those in Delta, only the stories that she was told, “Mary, we used to be good friends with before we moved to Georgia,” Cicely informed her sister

Lily still frowned slightly up at Mary, “but she a white woman,” Cicely’s eyes widened at her sister's words causing her to nudge her, and Mary laughed.

She nodded her head, “Yes, but when you are young and raised by some open minds, you seem to forget the differences that others manage to always pay attention to.” Mary sent Cicely a smile, and she returned, “So, what y’all doin’ back in Delta, where’s ya mama?”

Cicely gestured towards the back of the train, “Back there restin’ her eyes." she gestured back with her head, "I guess she missed Mississippi too much, and Clay.” At the mention of her brother's name Mary seemed to perk up.

"Yo brotha," Mary smiled in a way that could say she was smitten. Clayton always seemed to have that effect on the lady's, even the pale skinned ones, "He been hangin' around the boys, got people calling him Ace," Cicely's brows furrowed at that, "You remember the boys, right? Elijah and Elias Moore?"

Cicely's eyes widened, "The twins?" Mary nodded in confirmation. Cicely remembered them, her brother inseparable from them. She could only guess it's from him being the only boy, "I'm surprised they still in the Delta. Always dreamin' about making it big. At least for eleven year old minds." she recalled as far as her memories would take her. She was only six when they left but she still remembered them and their ways.

"Oh, they're still here alright," Mary replies in a tone that leaves Cicely curious at what they've been up to, "They go by Smoke and Stack now. People in Delta fear them just like they fear Clay."

Cicely was shocked by this information. She hadn't seen her brother in six years, but she never thought he turn into someone they feared. He often was a sweetheart, always wanting to take care of those around him in the best way he could.

Granted, their fathers violence against them had in all likelihood had a party in his change along with his part in the war that left men becoming their worst selves. Cicely knew that at some point her memories of the night of pain and cries were going to weigh her down eventually with the constant reminder of what she and her family had gone through managing to creep up on her. She didn't want it to, trying to stay reflecting on the good recollections that hadn't been completely out weighed by the bad. But it was getting there.

"My brotha?" She asked, trying to make for certain that she was referring to Clay and not some other Clayton.

Mary once again nodded, "Yep, Ace, and the Smoke-Stack twins." she voiced their title with a bit of a bitterness behind it as she glanced down at her kitten heels.

Cicely wasn't one to pry, especially into business that didn't involve her. But she seemed to understand now that there was some unresolved tension with someone among the trio with Mary.

She seemed to have shaked herself out of whatever path her mind was taking her down, looking back up at Cicely and smiling, "So are y'all just visiting? Where's ya daddy?" Mary found herself curious having not seen the man resting beside his wife.

At the question Cicely felt herself shift in discomfort for the reminder of their return. Mary noticed that. She also seemed to finally pay some close attention to Cicely's features, having allowed her to see the girl again, completely blind herself to what was right in front of her. The bruise on her face, it appearing over her deep-golden brown skin, her tight curls surrounding her face nearly helped distract her from the clear evidence of abuse.

Mary didn't want to ask further, she didn't want to trigger anything for the girl that she wasn't already thinking about, "Well, no matter what, y'all gotta come an' visit mama. All she ever talks about is how she missed y'all and wished she didn't have to see y'all go."

Cicely found herself nodding her head instantly, "My mama would love that, familia faces is what she could do for right now," she touched her sister's hair who oddly stood still whilst they conversed.

The wheels of the train screeched against the tracks, the convoy coming to a step letting everyone who needed to get off know that they were at their destination. Cicely gave Mary a smile, excusing herself grabbing a hold of Lily-Mae's hand as she walked in the direction her mother was in, not too far. Cicely crouched down, shaking her mother slightly, waking the women up letting her know they arrived at the station.

Meanwhile, outside Clayton James stood, the twins on either side of him as he waited for his sisters and his mother. A week ago he had received a letter from Seraphine. One that he had been shocked to be receiving. Guilt had ate at him since the day he left, regretful of leaving his family with a man he wished never had call his Father. God only knows what more that man put them through since he'd been gone, and he didn't want scenarios in his head making him feel worse about his decisions.

His mother had told him to meet them at the station. They needed somewhere to stay and he got it. He made sure to be prepared for them, knowing that this was their moment of escape and some peace and safety. He wasn't going to mess that up.

He paced back and forth in nervousness believing his movement would be subtle, however, the twins looked at him as if he had three heads. It was Stack who had stopped him, grabbing his arm bringing his movement to a halt.

"Relax, muthafucka, you makin' me sick," his accent thick when he spoke, toothpick in his mouth, gold crown that aligned the edge of his teeth visible. He had pulled Clay back into his spot in between them.

Clay searched, eyes moving over all the faces hoping to see the familiar ones, "Y'all see 'em?" he asked the twins, getting skeptical if they actually ever got on the train.

"We ain't seen Mrs. Seraphine and ya sista in twelve years, Ace, what makes you think we gon' recognize they faces?" Smoke retorted with his usual stone expression, it rarely ever cracked.

"And what if he got 'em? What if they ain't get on the train?" Clay found himself thinking the worst, bodies coming off and boarding the train and still, no one came into view.

Stack placed an assuring hand on Clay's shoulder, "Then we'd go to Georgia and get 'em back. It's time yo daddy know what it's like to get a beatin'" he declared ready for anything.

Smoke and Stack didn't take well to finding out that Clay along with his sisters and his mother had been getting abused. When he arrived back in Delta, they asked him why he didn't take them with him. "Can't force 'em to walk away. My mom too muthafuckin' loyal to leave, and Cicely and Lily-Mae wasn't leavin' her.'' It was just a truth they couldn't bother to be angry at. It took five years for Seraphine to come to her senses, Clay just wanted to know what it took to finally lead her there.

He continued to search, dark eyes fighting through the bodies just for them to land on them. Clay sees Lily-Mae first, the girl having grown a bit since he last saw her. He could tell it had been a while since his mama had cut her hair, it had stopped at her mid-back, long and curly. She wore a green dress stopping just a little ways below her knees and black flats that were covered in dirt no doubt from her running around chasing the goats like he remembered her always doing.

His mama was next, holding Lily's hand whilst holding a bag in her other one. As she looked around like he had just been not long before, from he could make out her facial features she seemed exhausted, the bags under eyes being a dead give away. She wore a grey beret that she no doubt made herself when she had the time, hair binned into a small bun. A blue dress she wore, with a white collar that came together in the middle forming a loose knot at the center of her chest. There was no doubt that his sisters always had clothes, with their mama being a seamstress and all, she always made them something nice to wear, even if it was just for around the house.

Whilst he looked at her frozen, trying to control his emotions as best as he could but knowing he was going to fail, the older woman's eyes had finally found him. Seraphine smiled in relief in her son's direction before she bent down, whispering something in Lily-Mae's ear and pointing in his direction.

She followed her mothers finger, scanning over the area quickly before she found him. Lily-Mae instantly smiled, face lighting up with a joy that he always missed seeing on her face before she began to run towards him, "Clay! Clay!" she shouted his name at the top of her lungs, grabbing the attention from nearly everyone as she dodged bodies on her way to him.

Clay laughed, opening his arms wide allowing the girl to run right into his middle, arms wrapping around his waist in a strong embrace. He hummed in happiness this squeeze mending the ache in his chest just a little bit more, "Well I'll be damn, look how big you got!" he pulled her back to look her over. He pushed her hair out of her face, "Mama let you leave the house like this----lookin' like a wild child."

Lily-Mae smiled up at him, "Mama says I am a wild child. Everyday she can't go without tellin' me that she would've pray to god for a boy if she wanted one." she speaks, winded from her run over to him.

"I guess we can call you her karma, huh?" Clay speaks as he looks her over, dropping to her knew where she had a bandage around it, "And let me guess..." he pointed towards the securely wrapped wound, "Chancin' dim damn chicken's, wasn't ya?" It wasn't a constant thing she had done when she was old enough to start walking.

She laughed in agreement, "Cicely always said it may scare the eggs out of hens," Lily-Mae brushed her hair out of her face as she finally took notice of the two men, with the same features, just didn't color accessories; blue and red. When she took notice of the blade slightly peakin' out her eyes widened, "Wow! Look at that!" she moved to touch it, Clay grabbing her hand.

Stack chuckled at her amazement of blade, "Girl, you can't just be goin' around touchin' a man's blade like that," Clay slightly scolded his sister.

"Don't worry 'bout it, mane," Stack assured him, taking the blade out with a brass knuckle ring for the handle, "This blade right here, ain't for a lady."

Lily-Mae scoffed at his words, "Good thang, I'm far from a fuckin' lady," she cursed taking Clay by surprise, and causing Stack to cackle loudly at her boldness. It even made Smoke's mouth twitch with a smile.

Clay was about to say something to her about her mouth just for another voice to beat him to it, "Lily-Mae James, you watch that mouth of yours or you'll be goin' over ma knee," Seraphine's sternness had caused the gentlemen's eyes to come up and look at the women.

Lily murmured a "Sorry, mama," before she found her eyes going up to Stack who playfully stuck his tongue at her, in which the young ten year old glared at him.

Seraphine then smiled up at her boy. He looked like a man, dressed like a man, but he was still her boy in her eyes. Her first born that she missed everyday since she watched him walk away, with no urge to stop him and attempt to get him to stay.

When he had told her he was leaving, she left him with nothing but this, "One of us gotta make it out, I'm just happy it's not in a box." he cried on her shoulder that night and when the sun rose he was gone and then it was Seraphine's turn to weep, tears of both loss and joy.

Tears had already begun to brim her eyes, as she reached over, adjusting his suit jacket, fine and tailored brushing over any lint. Her hands then found their way up to his face taking in his features that had changed since she had last seen him. He had matured in a way she wasn't expecting, but appreciated. To see him standing here in front of her instead of him dead somewhere in the trenches.

"Look at my boy," her voice cracked, tears falling as she pulled Clay into strong embrace leaving him to do the reciprocate. His own emotions couldn't contain, feeling the burn he felt like hadn't felt in a long time, followed by a wetness sliding down to the tip of his nose.

They stood right there for a moment, Lily-Mae standing once again going to reach for Stack's blade just for him to distract herself from the sentimental moment just for him to quickly grab her hand. She gave him a challenging brow, before going in with her other hand just for him to do the same. Lily laughed, finding it funny to mess with the man who was basically a stranger to her, however, the way he stood at her brothers side, Clay must've trusted him.

Smoke stood there, silently, looking around not paying them any mind. As always he was on high alert, eye searching around as if he was looking for some form of threat to come their way. Maybe Otis James made the dumb decision to follow them and was lurking, waiting for the perfect moment to attack.

He didn't see anyone approaching that appeared threatening. Instead his eyes fell to a woman who cared bags in her hand, her hair blowing in the soft breeze causing him to take notice of her features. Specifically the bruises. She held the same similar features of Clay, hair like the young one toying with his other half. She wore a white dress that stopped before her ankles purple flowers decorating it, the clothing tight around her rib cage whilst the rest of the dress fell loose.

A beautiful women she was. Eyes holding an innocence that he hadn't seen in most women in Delta. She almost looked like an angel, pure and untainted. But if she was who he thought she was, she had been through things. Similar to what he had been through and just like him, it must've haunted her.

"God, you look like a man," Seraphine had pulled away from her son's embraced, exhale heavily as she wiped her face and went up to wipe Clay's.

He laughed gently, "Because I am a man, mama," he retorts, adjusting his jacket.

Seraphine hit on his chest gently, "Stop trying to impress yo lil friends boy," she gestured to the twins, "And who might boys be?" she asked, sniffling from her tears as her eyes fell on between both of them.

"Mama, it's Elias and Elijah Moore," Clay informed his mother, setting her down memory lane as her eyes widened, eyes snapping between the two of them.

Lily-Mae had stopped her toying around with Stack as the man shifted his attention to the women he had remembered from when he was younger. Smoke hesitantly moved his eyes to Seraphine as well, a little afraid that if he took his eyes off the women that stood not that far from them she'd disappear into thin air.

"My god, you Bethanne's boys, aren't ya?" Seraphine inquired but she could see it now. In their eyes, they had them. She could see the women that was once her best friend before she passed away.

"Yes, Ma'am," Stack found himself confirming for her.

Seraphine laughed taking a step back to observe them, "I guess y'all really ain't boys no mo'," she looked over all of them, "Cicely, come look at 'em!"

Clay had snapped his gaze behind his mom at his sister who stood there with their luggage at her feet. She wasn't liked Lily. She didn't run to him displaying her joy of reuniting with him. Instead she looked more of angry. He could understand that. He had left without saying goodbye. Lily was too young at the time, and whatever mama had told her was easier to persuade her then it was for Cicely.

But instead of timidly acknowledging her as if she was ticking time bomb prepared to go off, he started off with his usual batter, "So ya just gonna stand there like a brat, or ya gonna come give ya big brotha a hug?" he opened his arms before they fell back at his side.

"I'm just fine where I'm at."

Seraphine looked at her daughter taken aback at how she was acting, "Cicely James! You get over here and hug ya brotha," she demanded her, but she didn't move from her spot, "You can't just ignore him."

Cicely rolled her eyes, "Oh please, ma, it ain't like it's nothin' he ain't done befo'" she retaliates. Clay tried to laugh through her words, acting as if it didn't sting to see her treating him like that. He couldn't be upset, he deserved it.

He scratched at his nose, taking a step forward, "You ain't gon' make me chase you, is you Cicely James?"

Her eyes narrowed, "You ain't got the balls, not in front of all these people," she gestured around, "We don't want no one in Delta thinkin' they Ace has gone soft, now do we?" Stack laughed. He was amused, entertained by this girl, this woman, Cicely James. A face of an Angel, but with a smart mouth.

"How you hear dat name, Cicely?" Clay asked his sister, knowing that news like that wouldn't have travelled all the way to Georgia.

Cicely rolled her eyes, not answering. But Lily-Mae had one, “Some white lady on the train, said she knew you and that you roamed around like’uh gangsta with the Smoke-Stack twins,” the youngest one amongst them glanced between two men opposite her brother, “You must be them.”

Clay thought about it for a while before he laughed rubbing his head, “Mary-fuckin’-Boone,” his history with the girl creeping up on him. It was a fucked up situation that he wished he could forget and have the urge to go back and think twice before getting involved with her, but he couldn’t. And his decision to keep his distance from her upset her to no extent, “You think I care ‘bout what they think?” He questioned her, she didn’t answer, “Nah, I’m just glad that y’all home, so…” he trailed off, approaching her causing Cicely to take a step back every time he took a step forward, “Cicely, girl!" his legs being longer then her own with long strides, she could barely get more then four steps in before his arms wrapped around her frame.

She released a squeal, "Let me go, Clayton!" Cicely tried to free her arms, kicking her legs as he lifted her up, "Put me down goddamit!" feeling a bit of pain as he lifted her, but tried to suppress it.

"Not until you forgive me, girl," Clay huffed, holding her close to his side. His hat had fallen off his head, Lily-Mae having picked it up, dusting it off. She let out a breathless, humorless laugh shaking her head, "What you want me to say, huh? That I messed up? That I'm a coward fo' leavin' y'all behind?" Cicely shoved at him again to get him to let go over her but he didn't budge, "I thought about y'all every day, ya hear? I wished I ain't had left y'all behind, but I can't change what I did. All I can do is make up for it," he paused for second, a pregnant pause fill the air between the, "Let me make up for it."

Cicely took calming breaths as she thought about his words. When she woke up to find out he left, she cried. She had cried for days wondering why he had left. Specifically why he hadn't taken her with him. She was heartbroken. Her brother was always there, defending her to the best his abilities would take him. And when he left, she thought he given up on them. And the fact that he hadn't visited, not even a letter, broke her heart even more. That sadness over the years had turned into anger, betrayal at his choice.

And now here he was, holding onto her for dear life asking for her forgiveness. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she missed him. Cicely couldn't say their relationship was going to be like it was before he left, but he could come back to it. At some point in time.

"Fine."

Clay smiled, slowly unraveling his arms from around her, allowing Cicely to stand up straight. He then opened them wide the proper way, to which she reluctantly gave in engulfing him in a hug. Clay felt another wave of tears about to hit him and he fought to them back, them rimming the underlid of his eyes.

Cicely pressed the unharmed side of her face into his chest, taking this in for herself, having her brother back. She could feel the wetness of her tears slide down the side of her face. Being the first pull away, she sniffled and wiped her tears away with her palm.

He looked down at her. His 6'3 frame towering over her 5'3 body. He laid his hand on her shoulder causing her to look up at him. Clay's jaw clenched at seeing her face. Fighting his words to ask how long ago she was given them. Instead he just pulled her into his side and turned to face his mother, sister, and the twins.

"Y'all so dramatic," Lily-Mae retorts, causing her older sister to glare at her.

Stack's eyes focused on Cicely who moved to grab the bags, "Woah, Woah," he instantly step forward, taking ahold of the bags before she could, "I got that for ya, Angel." she looked at him a little surprised.

Cicely shook her head, "No, it's okay, I can carry 'em," she protested hand moving out to grab their belongs.

"Don't you worry 'bout it," He assured her, "We wouldn't be gentleman if we let y'all ladies carry y'all luggage," Stack gestured his head to the bag that Seraphine held, looking at his brother.

Smoke adjusted his coat jacket, taking the bag from Seraphine, "We got the car all ready fo' y'all."

"We takin' a motor?!" Lily practically yelled, practically bounding on her toes from the excitement.

In the small motor car, Cicely sat up front, smooshed into between the two Smoke-Stack twins. Her mom and sister sat behind her, Lily-Mae in Clay’s lap since the back seats were so confined. On the journey to wherever they were taking them, Cicely fought it as hard as she could, but her eyes continued to drop. The exhaustion weighed in on her having barely slept a few hours on the train, the rest of time her rest she neglected for her own selfish reasons. Her mom needed the sleep and she couldn’t have Lily-Mae up bothering folks.

Without her holding back much longer she allowed her eyes to close, attempting up hold her head but the deeper she got in her sleep, the less she was able to fight it. Her head fell onto Smoke's shoulder, taking the man by surprise. He glanced down at her, moving the toothpick around his mouth as he observed her features now at peace while she rested. He shifted his gaze back to the road.

“I’m sorry ‘bout that, she ain’t sleep much on the train.” Seraphine apologized to the man that she had known since he was nothing but a baby.

Instantly Smoke brushed it off, “That’s just alright Mrs. James, she must've been exhausted.” It being the first time they had actually heard him speak since they had gotten off the train.

Clay bit at his thumb, a question eating up at him that he didn’t want to ask Cicely, not wanting to ruin a moment special, “When she get those bruises, mama?” He questioned out loud, just wanting to know how recently his daddy had put his hands on Cicely. He had done it to her most, for reasons only he and his mama knew of and for Cicely's sake they mama had kept it a secret from the girl with the fear that she’d grow to hate her too.

Seraphine sent her son a side glance before she released a heavy breath, “The night we left.” she answered with a pain in her tone, “Tended to her wounds, let her rest up for a bit. Bastard passed out on the couch so I took that chance to start packin’ our bags.” she had never moved so fast in her life, and as quiet as she possibly could.

“And that last hit finally gave you the strength to leave 'em, huh?”

The women was too afraid to admit, to under the words that she knew were true. That it wasn’t the hit that broke the camels back, “Sadly, no. It wasn’t that.” The information that she had discovered had finally trigger the fight or flight mode in her head , “He was gon’ sell her,” Clay snapped his head in his mama's direction, face contorted in a rage that she had never seen her son have. Granted it had been five years since has last seen him but no memories of him holding this murderous expression she seen in this moment, could she find in her brain, "A man wanted her for a housewife, to raise his kids since his wife died, Otis was gon' go through with it."

Smoke and Stack sent one another a side glance. They hadn't seen Cicely James in years. They didn't have to for the gears in their head to turn and just like Clay, they felt a murderous rage at the fact that Otis James was going to sell his daughter.

The eldest james child released a humorless chuckle, Lily-Mae too young to understand the situation, glancing in between the two adults, "And let me guess, the muthafucka still breathin'?" he didn't need his mama to answer for him to know the truth. He could only shake his head, the flame of anger in him only burning brighter, "You seem to fo'get, mama? That man know you like the back of his hand, so how long you thankin' it's gon' take for him to track y'all back to Delta?"

It wasn't going to be long, Seraphine knew that much. And the thought had sat with her the entire train ride back to her home. She couldn't even embraced the familiarity of it all, her thoughts clouding her mind as she did ask herself the question that her son had voiced out loud.

"What makes you think I'd have the strength to kill him?"

Clay scoffed, "Out of all the years he been slowly killin' y'all, I don't know how it wasn't already there," a pregnant paused filled the air, hearing nothing but the wind caused by the accelerating speed, blowing past their ears, "All I know is one thing, mama," he began, looking at the women once more, "He come knockin' at my door, imma shoot him where he stands." he declared allowed with not a waver in his tone.

Seraphine closed her eyes at her sons threat, his promise. She took a break as she questioned, "You'd kill yo daddy?" her eyes fluttered open as she directed her gaze to Clay. He was already looking at her.

His green eyes that he had gotten from her father stared right back at her. No emotions present on his face, with no hesitance he responded, "No, mama, I'd kill a man," he shifted his attention, back to the cotton fields that they passed as he added, "He stopped bein' my daddy a long time ago."

#michael b jordan x black reader #elias moore #elijah moore #black!reader #black!oc #smoke #stack #sinners #cicely james #michael b jordan x reader #elias moore x black!oc x elijah moore #prcttyfairies

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