#i feel like i had to show a lot of things with just... hands

[maskedbyghost]

You and Simon aren’t together. Never have been. Never talked about it, never even thought about it.

You just click. You always have. It started as a mission thing—paired up for some op because Price figured you worked well together, and then it just… stuck. You got each other in ways that didn’t need explaining. You liked the same things, moved the same way, anticipated each other’s actions before they happened. You didn’t have to tell him what you needed in the field, and he never had to ask you to cover him. It was easy. Comfortable. The kind of thing that felt natural before you even noticed it happening.

And then it bled into everything else. Eating together. Training together. Sitting next to each other on long flights, in debriefs, in the rare downtime you got between missions. It was never planned, never discussed. Just a thing that happened, like muscle memory. If you were in a room, Simon was there too, and if he wasn’t, he was on his way.

The others noticed, of course. Soap especially. He was the loudest about it, but even Gaz had taken to shooting you both pointed looks when you showed up somewhere at the same time, or when you answered Simon’s half-formed thoughts like you knew what he was going to say before he said it.

Which, honestly, you usually did.

It all comes to a head one evening, the lot of you gathered in one of the common rooms, half-done with the day but not quite ready to call it a night. You and Simon are on the couch, shoulder to shoulder, idly watching something on the TV while Soap, sitting across from you both, groans into his hands.

“You two make me sick.”

You blink at him. “We’re literally just sitting here.”

“That’s the problem!” Soap gestures wildly. “You do everything together. You finish each other’s bloody sentences. You know what the other is thinking. And you’re just—what? Friends?” He scoffs. “Aye, and I’m the Queen of England.”

Simon leans back, tilting his head slightly. “Don’t think you’ve got the legs for a crown, mate.”

Gaz snorts. Price, watching from his spot near the door, only shakes his head like he’s seen this conversation play out a hundred times before. (He has.)

Soap ignores them, pointing a finger between you and Simon like he’s solving some grand mystery. “There’s only one thing you haven’t done,” he declares. “You just need to kiss. That’s it. Only thing missing.”

Silence.

You turn your head. Simon is already looking at you.

There’s nothing in his expression that gives anything away—no smirk, no challenge, no humor in his eyes. He’s just watching you, waiting. And then, with a tiny shrug, he leans in and kisses you.

It’s short, unhurried. Just a press of his lips against yours, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. When he pulls back, his eyes are still on you, searching.

You don’t react. Not outwardly, anyway. You can feel Soap’s disbelief burning into the side of your face, hear the noise he makes—the strangled mix between a gasp and an outraged protest—but you don’t acknowledge it. Instead, you look back at Simon, forcing yourself to stay still even as your heart does something stupid in your chest.

Because, sure, maybe this was just to mess with Soap. Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe it was a joke.

But it didn’t feel like one.

Simon smirks and leans back, turning his attention back to the TV like nothing happened. “Happy now?”

Soap looks like he’s reconsidering every life decision that led him to this moment. “What the fuck?”

—

Later, when Simon walks you back to your room, he’s quieter than usual. His hands are in his pockets, his head tilted down slightly like he’s working through something in his mind.

“I wasn’t trying to make things weird,” he says after a beat. “Didn’t mean—well, didn’t want you to think it was—”

He stops, exhales sharply through his nose. “Just don’t want you to be mad.”

You glance at him. “I’m not mad.”

He nods, but his mouth pulls into something uncertain, like he doesn’t believe you. “Good. That’s—good.”

You reach your door and turn to face him fully. He’s still looking at you, his usual easy confidence nowhere to be found. And it’s funny, really, how the thought of kissing you in front of everyone hadn’t made him hesitate, but now? Now, he’s hesitating. Now, he’s thinking too hard about it. About you.

So before he can say anything else, you push up onto your toes and kiss him.

It’s quick, barely a breath between you before you pull back, but the impact is immediate. Simon’s lips part slightly, his brows drawing together like he can’t quite process what just happened.

You step back, hand on your door handle, and give him a small nod. “Goodnight, Simon.”

Then you slip inside, shutting the door behind you, leaving him standing there in the hallway, staring at the empty space where you just were.

And for once, Simon doesn’t have a single thing to say.

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

@daydreamerwoah @ghostslollipop @kylies-love-letter

[beanarie]

Evan's front door has just closed behind him when Tommy has a moment of panic. Did I leave my fucking phone in there?

But no, there it is in his back pocket. He breathes out carefully for a count of four and takes it out, booting up Uber. He needs to look up the address of the bar before he can punch it in.

So that's gonna be his morning, picking up the truck, driving home, and finding a way to shore his shit up enough to keep from getting grounded on sight when he shows up for his shift tomorrow.

Angel is showing up in Nissan Altima in four minutes. Great, wonderful. Tommy stands at the edge of the curb.

Three minutes.

Two minutes.

His ride was canceled. "Fuck." Uber is finding him the next available driver.

Maris is showing up in a Toyota RAV4 in eleven minutes. Google maps says it would take forty-three to walk to the bar. If he jogged, he could maybe half that.

No. He is forty years old. He will not be doing cardio in his boots while nursing a mild hangover and a backache. He very much does not want to navigate rush hour traffic as a pedestrian, either.

Eight minutes.

Six. Tommy has another mini heart attack about his keys before he finds them. The pockets on these jeans are too big. God. Imagine if he'd had to go back now.

Three minutes.

The RAV4 pulls up. Tommy opens the door.

"Tommy?" Maris says.

He stares at her. "Oh! Uh. You're not Imelda? That's who I'm waiting for. I'm Andrew."

She blinks at him eloquently. He is fooling no one and he will probably be charged a fee. Whatever. He's already walking back to the house as she's pulling away.

It takes three rings. Tommy is cracking the knuckles on one hand, considering knocking. Maybe he's in the shower.

The door opens. Evan's expression, that of a puppy that got roundhouse kicked in the chest, is offset by eyes wide as saucers. "Tommy," he says, with almost the same astonishment as he did last night. Sixteen minutes is different from several months, but it doesn't feel like it right now. "W-What."

"What did you mean?" Tommy says. "I don't think it was what I took away from it."

Evan's eyes have gone back to normal size. The beaten puppy look is all but gone, replaced by something mildly skeptical, slightly hopeful. "Thought you had a shift?"

"Later can mean a lot of things. Twenty four hours from now, for example."

Evan visibly holds back a sigh. "You make me tired sometimes."

"What did you mean?" Tommy says, to drown out the voice telling him to run off, boots and back pain and all.

Evan pushes the door open the rest of the way.

[smutoperator]

Private Performance

Shen Xiaoting x Male Reader

Tags: (a bit of) anal, (lots of) blowjobs, creampies, (lots of) cum, facial, fan vs. idol, floor sex, grinding, lap dancing, leather, (lots of) riding, spooning, teasing, tying up, whip

Word count: 4345

You had travelled a lot to watch Kep1er perform. As the songs kept going, the concert finally reached the unit performances. You watched as your bias, Xiaoting, entered the stage alongside Yujin and Hiyyih, all three of them wearing beautiful black leather outfits.

The song started playing, and the heat of the performance only picked up, with Xiaoting as the clear standout as they performed the classic sexy hit "Hush." "Kiss, kiss, kiss, baby, hush, hush, hush, baby," the song blasted as you watched Xiaoting make incredibly sexy moves over the course of the performance.

The show kept going, but the only thing you had in mind after that performance was Xiaoting in that black leather outfit. You would never be able to forget it and were ready to exit the fan concert before a pair of guards told you the news.

"Xiaoting wants to see you," they said. What could it be? The concert was already over. Your heart started racing, as you still couldn't believe you would be able to meet your favorite idol in person.

You opened the door of Xiaoting's dressing room, her greeting you in the same outfit she was wearing at the "Hush" performance. "I heard you really like our unit performance. Do you want a private performance all to yourself?" she asked you. "Of course," you answered, still starstruck by seeing the Chinese goddess you loved so much this close to you.

Xiaoting turned the speakers on and started performing. You could tell from the get-go it was a way sexier performance than the one she did on stage, Xiaoting truly adding an extra spice, starting with the floor choreo, then moving her butt in a very fast way as she got up before going back on the floor with a sexy leg spread, accentuating the short moment she stayed on all fours, ending with very seductive moves, especially inviting you with her hands while sexily moving her body, especially her beautiful butt that could barely contain itself inside the leather outfit.

"Did you like my performance, baby?" Xiaoting asked you. "Of course I did; you're my favorite idol," you told her, still not believing what your eyes had just witnessed. "That was just the warm-up, baby," she answered you.

Xiaoting made a sign and pointed you towards a chair in the room, telling you to sit. "Sit there, baby," she said. Xiaoting went to the other room, grabbing a whip and hitting it against the floor as an intimidating tactic while quickly telling you about her intentions.

"Tonight, you're all mine, baby," Xiaoting said to you as she started sitting on your lap. The friction of her leather outfit against your crotch quickly made you get hard, Xiaoting noticing it instantly and smiling, but keep moving as if nothing had happened. Her ass was so beautiful and firm and moved so smoothly on your lap.

"Touch me, baby," she told you, who obliged and stretched your hands to grab her slim waist. "You can touch other parts too, like here," she said, grabbing your hands and moving them towards her top. "Don't be shy, baby, grab them; show me how much you want me," she continued.

As you grabbed Xiaoting's clothed boobs, she kept adding more and more heat. "Want to touch my ass too, baby? This outfit is too small for me; it feels like it's going to burst at any second," she said. You hesitate, but quickly your instincts take over as you run your hands over your favorite idol's sexy butt, still thinking this might just be an illusion.

Xiaoting tied you from behind in the chair, got more aggressive with her moves, wrapped the whip around your neck, gave you a kiss, and then whispered in your ear, "This will be your best night ever, baby."

Xiaoting continued to dance on your lap, opening her legs and showing her flexibility. Each move she made got your cock harder and harder, her now making short, fast moves with her butt to feel your clothed bulge rubbing against her leather pants. She smiled, giving you a peek of her tits before pulling them back into her top.

"Wanna touch them, baby?" Xiaoting asks, popping her little tits out one more time and letting you run your hands over her bare boobs. "You seem really hungry for them, baby," she told you. "But you'll have to wait a little bit more," she continued just as you give her boobs a kiss.

You gave Xiaoting's ass a little tap as you whipped your thigh in response. "Slow down, baby, I control the pace," she told you. Sensing your cock already throbbing, Xiaoting grinded her butt in your crotch one more time, enjoying the amazing sensation in her ass. "Ohhh baby, I can already feel it itching for me," she whispered in your ear as she started simulating riding your cock.

"You want me to do this later?" Xiaoting asked you, bending over and putting her ass in your face for you to see. "What do you think of it, baby?" she then asked. You just couldn't answer, baffled by what was happening, just mesmerized by how beautiful she was and by how good she smelled.

You kissed Xiaoting's buttcheeks and gave them a little spank as she shook her ass in front of you. "That's a great performance, isn't it, baby?" she ask you, giving you a kiss and then spreading her legs in a full split on your lap, grinding on it again. "Let's get you fully ready," she then whispered in your ear.

"Now the real fun begins," Xiaoting says as she unzips your pants. Soon, she goes back to grinding, the leather of her pants making your cock throb hard as she moves her body up and down your shaft. You grab your cock and slap it against her butt, making her giggle as you spank her ass. "Wow, that's really big, such a huge cock," she says, pinning her body against your throbbing shaft.

Xiaoting gets on her knees, pulling your pants further down, taking her gloves off and licking her chops as she prepares to suck your cock. "Oh my God, I love this perfect cock; it's so good in my mouth," she moans, licking the tip of it and enjoying your uncut cock, giving you a deepthroat that already pushes you to the edge.

"Ahhhh," you moan as Xiaoting aggressively deepthroats your shaft. "It feels so good," you tell her as Xiaoting unbuttons your shirt, kissing your torso before going back for more cocksucking, showing you her signature deepthroat before taking care of your tip a few times and going back up to kiss you with her cock-filled mouth.

"Oh fuck," you groan as Xiaoting shows you why she's such a master of the art of sucking cock. Her blowjob is very slow-paced but it hits at the right spots. "God, that's so good," you tell her as Xiaoting continues to move her mouth in your shaft and then softly strokes your uncut cock.

Xiaoting takes your shoes off and removes your pants, increasing the pace of the blowjob. "Fuck," is all you can say as she keeps deepthroating your shaft with ease, almost as if she's taking a walk in the park. "Ohhh," you moan again, her sexy mouth bringing you to total submission. She keeps making moves, licking the side of your shaft and sliding into your balls. "This cock tastes so good," she tells you.

"Oh my God," you keep groaning as Xiaoting puts her ass up while sucking your cock, giving you a perfect view of her beautiful butt in those leather pants. She massages your balls in her mouth before another hard head-bobbing and deepthroating, continuing as she edges you with her hands. "So big," she whispers in your ear.

"Fuck, you're going to make me..." you say to her. "Cum?" Xiaoting asks. "That would be a pleasure," she says, stroking your cock hard until you burst in her mouth. "That's amazing; that cum tastes so good," she tells you, licking her chops and swallowing it like a pro. "I'm gonna need more of it tonight," she says.

Xiaoting sits back on your lap, grinding on your cock just enough to get you hard again. She pulls her pants down, showing you her beautiful bare ass, your face in awe as you stare at it like you just got hypnotized. She licks her chops and guides your hard pole to her pussy, moaning as she gets down on it.

"Ohhhh," you moan as Xiaoting gives slow bounces at first, quickly picking up the speed. "Yes, yes, yes," she softly moans as she goes up and down your shaft in an outstanding squatting reverse cowgirl, not wasting any move. "Oh yes, you ride it so well, wow, baby," you tell her.

"If you're already like this just with just my warm-up, wait until I use your cock to the fullest," Xiaoting says as she turns around and whispers in your ear, kissing you as she pulls your cock out and strokes it a bit before putting it in her pussy again. "Oh shit, just like that," you tell her as she gives you a very slow but extremely sexy ride.

"Ahhhh," you moan as Xiaoting works her magic on your cock, tasting her pussy with a hot deepthroat that drives you to the edge. "Holy fuck," you groan. "Keep going, just like that," you say as she gets your cock wetter, bouncing faster this time, with rapid squats that push you to the edge. "Ahhh, yes," you continue to moan as Xiaoting continues to squat on your cock and squeeze it with her tight pussy.

"Your cock is fucking amazing, hell yes," Xiaoting says as she keeps moving on it and driving you crazy. "You've been such a good boy, you know; I think I should give you a reward," she tells you, tilting in your direction for a few more hard squats. She then spreads her legs, giving you a sexy acrobatic blowjob with her ass pointed right into your face, her asshole winking while she dives her beautiful doll-face on your hard shaft and impales herself full of it.

Xiaoting keeps moving her face on your hard cock, licking your shaft like crazy and shaking her ass in your face. She then goes back to sit on your cock, spreading her legs as she performs a full split on your dick, moaning much louder this time. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," she says as she bounces with her legs in a 180-degree motion, her little tits jiggling as she impales herself full of cock.

"OH MY GOD, YOUR COCK, IT'S SO BIG, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH," Xiaoting moans as she can't seem to stop bouncing hard on it, her cheeks hitting hard against your hips despite her legs being fully spread, her sexily grinding all over your cock. "OH YEAH, I LOVE THIS COCK, BABY," she tells you as she rotates all over it.

"Baby, I'm going to cum again," you tell Xiaoting. "Oh yes, please, fill my pussy up," Xiaoting begs, her words being just enough for you to fill it with your seeds. "You seem really hungry, baby, and you already came twice for me," Xiaoting said. "But don't think you're done yet," she continues.

Xiaoting unties you from the chair; you are still trying to recover from cumming in her. "Stand up," she says, sucking your cock and cleaning you off. You grab her head, pushing it against your shaft as you try to take control, Xiaoting barely flinching as you fill her face full of your cock.

"Are you ready to fuck me from behind, baby?" Xiaoting asks as she bends her ass against the chair. You take her pussy from behind, moving her hips against your cock before you slowly start thrusting into it. "Yes, baby, that's what I want, ahhhh," she says, softly moaning.

"Fuck yes, I love this big cock deep in my pussy," Xiaoting tells you, who tries to increase the pace while holding yourself from cumming again in her perfect pussy. "Yes, baby, take me, just like that, so good," she says as you grab her waist, Xiaoting spreading her beautiful ass to ease the pressure.

"I'm gonna cum all over this dick tonight," Xiaoting says, giggling as her walls squeeze your cock, making you briefly pull out to resist. "You like that tight little pussy?" Xiaoting asks you as she gives you a big smile. "Fuck yes I do," you promptly answer her.

"Then keep fucking that pussy, baby," Xiaoting commands to you. "Oh god, every fucking stroke is so good inside me," she says, panting as her tight pussy squeezes you to the fullest. "Oh fuck yeah," you tell Xiaoting, her moans getting louder as your cock gets deeper. You spank her ass. "YES, BABY, SPANK THAT BEAUTIFUL BUTT," she tells you.

You grab Xiaoting's ass for a better grip as you pump harder into her pussy. "OH FUCK, YES, YES," she says, your cock hitting all the way into her cervix and making her beautiful legs quiver. She closes her eyes, making crazy facial expressions as your cock shapes her inner walls. "OH MY GOD," she moans.

"Lie down," Xiaoting tells you as you quickly oblige, going down to the floor as she tastes her juices from your cock, deepthroating you while burying her beautiful ass in your face. "Fuck yes, ahhhhh, shit," you moan as she deepthroats you one more time before getting ready to climb on your pole once again. You grab your shaft, slapping it against her entrance and teasing her before putting it back in her pussy.

You slowly pump upwards into Xiaoting's pussy, your balls smacking right against her ass as she moans. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, BABY," she tells you as you relentlessly attack her pussy. "AHHHHHHHH," she lets out a prolonged screaming moan, your cock pushing hard upwards and making her cheeks clap as you fully open your legs on the floor and grope her tits, tilting Xiaoting's body in your direction.

"GIVE ME THAT AMAZING COCK, PLEASE," Xiaoting begs as your hard pounding continues; she screams loudly every time you hit her cervix, placing her finger in her asshole to deal with the heat you bring to her pussy. "OH YEAHHHH," she screams as you wrap your arms around her and pump against her pussy. Xiaoting tries to react and regain control over the ride, but you're so horny now she stands no chance.

"I NEED ALL OF THIS FUCKING COCK," Xiaoting begs you as the pounding continues. Her asshole winks as her cunt gets drilled hard, you grabbing her tits and sucking them with full force while your balls smack against her beautiful cheeks. "AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH, OH MY GOD, DAMN," she moans as you keep bombing her pussy like crazy.

"Turn around," you tell Xiaoting, switching her to a reverse position and pumping her pussy as soon as she gets back to sit on your cock. "Spread that ass," you tell her, spanking it as you fuck her pussy. "YES, BABY, FUCK THAT FUCKING PUSSY," she begs you.

Xiaoting spreads her legs and descends down on your cock in a reverse cowgirl position. "OH FUCK, YEAH, YEAH," she moans as she bounces on it, grabbing her little tits. You tease her, slapping the entrance of her pussy. "OH YEAH, RIGHT THERE, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH," Xiaoting moans, bouncing on your cock one more time as you grab her ass. "OH MY GOD, YOUR COCK, IT'S SO BIG," she says as she enjoys every second of it.

You grope Xiaoting's boobs as she bounces on your cock, rolling her eyes as her beautiful ass hits your crotch. "FUCKKKK," she screams as you regain control, pumping her pussy hard and making her spread her legs while she deals with the heat in the depths of her hole.

"Fuck," Xiaoting reacts as you are ready to exert full domination over her, grabbing her legs and placing her under a full nelson while pumping her pussy harder than ever. "FUCK YEAHHHHH," Xiaoting screams as you turn her into a fuckdoll. "OH FUCKKKK, FUCK, FUCK, I'M GONNA CUM, DON'T STOP, DON'T STOP, DON'T STOP," she begs you as you completely immobilize her.

As you free Xiaoting from your grasp, she moves in the direction of the chair, holding herself on top of it as she lifts her leg for your cock to enter her pussy. You grab her leg and continue to pump her in a standing position, her looking in your eyes and sexily moaning. "FUCK YES, BABY," she says as your balls hit her clit and she tries to keep her balance against your hard thrusts.

"Yes, baby, fuck that pussy," Xiaoting begs you as she grabs your neck. "Holy shit, you're still tight," you tell her, lifting her leg a little higher as you try to get deeper, making her body jiggle as you attack her pussy. "FUCK, BABY," she says as she starts rubbing her pussy.

"Yes, rub that pussy," you command to Xiaoting as her walls squeeze your cock once again. You grab her waist, using all your might to pump her. She gets back on her feet and then starts stroking your cock. "So sexy," she says to you as she kisses you.

"Are you ready to cum for me again?" Xiaoting says as she gets back on the floor, spreading her legs as you enter back inside her pussy in a spooning position. "Oh baby," she says as she rubs her pussy.

"Oh my god, oh my god, take that cock all the way deep in me, fuck," Xiaoting begs as your balls make loud noises against her cheeks, she still rubbing her pussy. She arches her body, showing you her ass. "So good, keep going, baby; fuck yes," she moans, grabbing your balls as you thrust against her cunt.

"OH FUCK, OH FUCK, OH FUCK," Xiaoting says as you attack her pussy, grabbing her head as your cock hits deep in her cervix. "YES, YES, YES, BABY, FUCK," she keeps repeating as you pick up the pace. "Ohhh damn, I think I'm gonna cum again," you tell Xiaoting, avoiding a close call by slapping her entrance. "Then cum, baby, fill that pussy one more time, please," Xiaoting says, rubbing her clit faster to drain you.

"Fuck baby, I need more of your cum filling my pussy; it makes me feel so good," Xiaoting says as you continue to fuck her in that same spooning position, kissing her while you conquer her pussy one more time. "Ahhhh, baby, I'm going to fucking cum," you announce to her as you move even faster inside her pussy, rubbing her clit until you blow your third load of the day.

"Get this cock back hard for me; I still have one more reward for you," Xiaoting says as she licks the cum that oozed out of her pussy into the floor. She grabs her whip, slapping it against the floor. "Jerk that cock off, baby boy, or you won't get that reward, I want it throbbing for my ass," she tells you.

You sit on the chair as Xiaoting teases you, kissing you as you keep stroking your cock while she aggressively hits the whip on the floor. "Keep going, baby, my ass wants your cock at full strength," she says, teasing you as she shakes her butt in front of your face and sits on the side of your lap.

"You're almost there, baby, but maybe you need some extra help," Xiaoting says as she grabs your cock and deepthroats it again. "Ahhhh," you moan as her warm mouth engulfs your shaft, Xiaoting feeling very hungry. "I think you're finally ready," she says.

Xiaoting sits her ass on your cock. "Fuck, it's even tighter," you tell her as she starts to bounce hard. "Give me all that cock in my ass," she tells you as you're already rolling your eyes. "Does it feel good, baby?" she asks you. "Yes, it feels amazing; you've got such a great ass," you tell Xiaoting.

"Want to have more of it?" Xiaoting asks as she moves to the other side, squatting her perfect butt on your cock. "Oh fuck," she says as you pump upwards, trying to deal with her rides. "Keep jerking that cock off; this was just a tease," she tells you before spreading her legs and descending her ass in one go on your cock.

"Fuck yes, holy shit," you tell Xiaoting as your cock reaches the depths of her asshole. "Seems like you're really enjoying my tight ass, baby," she tells you. "Hell yes, it's amazing," you answer her.

Xiaoting finally goes all in, bouncing on your cock in a perfect cowgirl position as you wrap your arms around her. "You feel so good in my ass, baby," she tells you, slowly picking up the pace. You spank her butt, only making her move faster. "Damn, this is the best sex I've ever had," you tell her.

"AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHHH, FUCK, FUCK," Xiaoting moans as your cock anally impales her. She pauses a bit, giving you her signature deepthroat to taste her ass. "Oh shit," you groan. Xiaoting spreads her ass and then rides you side-saddle. "You like the way I tease you?" she asks you.

"Put it back in my ass; let me ride it one more time," Xiaoting says. "Stay right there," you tell her, pumping upwards. "That's what I want to see," she tells you. "Take that ass," she continues. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's how I want to see," she continues.

"Fuck," you groan as Xiaoting's teasing makes you cum in her ass. "Oh baby, just a tease, and you already came all over my ass," Xiaoting says. "Are you really that hungry and horny for me?" she asks. "Yes, baby, I can't resist; you're like a goddess," you tell her.

"Well, a goddess that likes to be fucked in the ass, that's what I am," Xiaoting says as she gets on the floor. "Let's go, baby, give me more. I know you can cum one more time for me," she says.

You take Xiaoting's cum-filled ass on the floor in a spooning position, spitting on your cock and quickly getting it hard for your anal-loving goddess. Xiaoting opens her legs as you massage her asshole. "Bet my cum feels good in it, ahh," she tells you.

"Oh my God, oh my god, take control of that ass, yeah, yeah, yeah," she moans as you pound it hard, pushing one hand inside her pussy as you fuck her in the ass. "OH YEAH, OH YEAH, OH YEAH," she moans.

"OHHH FUCKKK, FUCK MY ASSHOLE," Xiaoting begs as you show no restraint, attacking her ass at full speed. "OH GOD, YES, YES, YES," she loudly moans against the floor. You give her a little break, kissing her and spitting in her mouth before going back to fully drilling her butt. "God, it's so perfect," you tell her.

You put Xiaoting's legs over head head, twisting her like a pretzel as you destroy her tight butthole. "OH YEAHHHHH," she loudly moans as your cheek-capping thrusts only get more and more intense. "YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, FUCK, THAT COCK IS SO BIG IN MY ASS," Xiaoting says.

"Big huge cock, big huge cock, all over my ass, FUCKKk," Xiaoting screams, her tits jiggling hard. "YES, BABY, USE THAT ASS," she begs you. "You've got such a fucking good ass," you tell her as you just can't seem to stop pumping.

"PULL MY HAIR, PULL MY FUCKING HAIR," Xiaoting begs as you grab it while destroying her ass. "OH GOD, AHHHHH," she turns into a screaming machine, you fucking her ass like an animal. "Suck my dick, baby, taste your ass," you tell her, Xiaoting rushing and giving quick and sloppy pops to your shaft with her mouth.

"Open your fucking mouth," you tell Xiaoting as you fuck her face and slap her tits. "Now get on all fours," you tell her, Xiaoting promptly obliging as you take her from behind like a raging bull. "AHHHH BABY, DON'T STOP, YEAH, FUCK THAT ASS," Xiaoting begs.

"OH GOD, OH GOD, OH GOD," Xiaoting moans as your hard thrusts make her lose her breath, the once indestructible beauty turned into your toy. "YES, I LOVE IT, I LOVE IT, I LOVE IT, I LOVE THAT COCK DEEP IN MY ASS," she screams. You spit in her gape and rail her hard from behind, grabbing her hair and whispering dirty words in her ear while slapping her tits.

"Take that cock, you fucking slut," you tell Xiaoting, tying her arms behind her back while you spank her butt. "AHHHH," she screams as your hands hit her cheeks hard and you completely dominate her, flipping the script for good. "YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, TAKE MY FUCKING ASS," she keeps begging.

"FUCK FUCK FUCK BABY, HUSH HUSH HUSH BABY, FUCK ME AND HOLD ME TIGHT," Xiaoting starts to scream an adapted version of the song she was once performing on stage. "GIVE IT TO ME, GIVE IT TO ME OH, CUM TO ME, CUM TO ME OH, GIVE IT TO ME, GIVE IT TO ME OH," she continues.

"Come here, baby, cum all over my pretty face," Xiaoting commands as you unleash your fifth and final load of the night right in her doll face. The Chinese beauty has milked you dry; you were just unable to resist her charm and sex appeal as she drained your balls so much you can barely feel your cock at this point. "That was a good night, but I have to go," Xiaoting says as she dresses herself up. You head back home, waking up the next morning as your girlfriend comes to see you, with you giving her a suggestion.

"Baby, can you please tie me to a chair, sit on my lap, and grind on me?

[w2soneshots]

i’ve can’t stop thinking about an idea i have in my head, is it possible for a george fic but and if your are missing your family and getting really upset and george comes to comfort you?? in inside btw!!

Cameras off -George clarkey

words: 0.6k+

warnings: angst/comfort.

notes: thank you for the idea girly, this is cuteee! I did write it as a shorter blurb since I’ve already done one INside fic (though it ended up being a little longer than expected)😌🫶🏼. Enjoy!!💘

The group sat in the living room, now not as many as the beginning of the week but it was still loud. Your head ached as PK started shouting -unintentionally- about something you weren't paying attention to, though in that moment it was the last thing you needed.

You got up without a word and took yourself into the makeup room, where all of the girls get ready in the morning. Sitting on a stool, you took a deep breath, trying to calm your emotions as the thoughts in your mind started to consume you.

"Hey?" A hand on your back startled you, causing you to jump slightly. "Sorry, you okay?" George asked quietly, a softness to his voice that you hadn't heard before.

You nodded, not fully trusting your voice. "Do you wanna go outside? The team will let you if you need a second." He was being so sweet and it was just making it harder for you to hold your tears back.

"Yeah, can you come with me?" You asked, without thinking. They usually didn't let two people go outside at once, to avoid interesting conversations not being filmed.

"y/n and George to room nineteen," the intercom voice spoke before you could say another word. You looked at each other. "Come on." He reached his hand out for you to take once he'd stood up. You took it and he lead you to room nineteen, everyone else still sat chatting away in the main area.

One of the welfare people stood outside the door once you entered the hallway. "Hi," the kind woman began, "Tobi saw some of your conversation, if you need to you can go outside with George. They won't show any of this if you don't want them too."

You let out a slight breath of relief. "That'd be great," you replied quietly. "Okay," she nodded, "follow me." She lead you and George to the private terrace then checked you were okay one last time before telling you to take as long as you needed.

The both of you sat on the outdoor sofa they had and you breathed in the fresh air. "So, what ails you?" He asked in a doctory voice, lightning the mood. "Just- I'm just overwhelmed I think. There's no peace and I like my alone time, you know?" You looked to him.

"I completely get that," he reassured you, "there's a lot of big personalities. Plus, being filmed constantly doesn't help the situation." You nodded, looking down at your lap then you spoke again, "it's also so awful not knowing what's going on outside, like if everyone's okay." A tear slipped down your cheek.

George felt for you and he was feeling the exact same. He shuffled closer to you and slowly put his hand on your knee. "Want a hug?" "Yeah," you whispered tearfully before leaning into him. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and after a few silent sobs you calmed.

"Sorry," you mumbled as you pulled away, wiping the few tears you'd left on his hoodie. "Don't worry about it. Feel better?" He kept his voice soft and calm as he spoke. "Much, thanks for being my therapist," you smiled as you tried to make yourself look normal and like you'd not been crying.

After a few more minutes of quiet you felt ready to go back into the house. Just before you opened the door you went to kiss George on the cheek -to say thank you- but he turned and you ended up kissing his lips. "Oh- that- oops." You both burst out laughing, nether of you were mad about the kiss.

The last few days you spent most of your time together, wether it was sat next to each other on the couch, switching beds so that you slept in the corner next to his or him spending his morning at the makeup table talking to you while you got ready.

You fancied George and he fancied you, so when you finally got out of the house and he asked you out obviously you said yes.

[naranjapetrificada]

Specifically about the racefakery:

I'm primarily seeing the conversation around All This focus on plagiarism (which makes sense) but I wanted to say some things as one of the handful of Black people I'm aware of that hang out around here:

1. Discord makes my brain itch and I've been afraid to go to OFMD bluesky after how bad OFMD twitter was, so I'm often one of so few Black people on here that you can count us one hand. I wasn't especially close with Atticus but I did like knowing that someone else was gonna be loud about racist Ed takes from a "position of authority" as it were. That knowledge made shit feel a lot less lonely over here and this motherfucker took that from me. That's what I feel betrayed about. That's what pisses me off about the racefaking in particular. Things are now unequivocally going to be harder for me around here than they were before and I hate that he was able to put me in this position.

2. I'm not aware of if he plagiarized any of my fics because they're mostly 100% canon compliant or in one case, too weird to effectively copy, but I'll never know because 100+ middling fics is too many to check through. I'm okay not knowing because the stilted way he wrote about Ed's hair and Ed's race are not things I wish to subject myself to anymore. But for the record, his fics are one of the places where the racefakery shows the most imo because writing makes you tell on yourself in unanticipated ways.

3. Maybe this next point will get me blocked by even more white people in this fandom but here we go anyway. I've struggled to come up with a more diplomatic way of saying "white people are too polite/conflict averse" but like, white people are too polite/conflict averse. This has literally come up in this exact fandom before, around a less fraught issue but still. It had ugly fallout then and it's had ugly fallout now, and while I understand not wanting to come at somebody you perceive as a person of color where everyone could see it, I do wish we had an environment where people who did have suspicions about him could have come forward. The amount of harm he was able to do is directly proportional to the amount of time and space he had to do it, and even before you start talking about the racefaking he was up to shady shit that I certainly had no idea was going on. Which leads to my next point.

4. I can recall a couple times where my race-related spidey senses tingled, but any unease I had was easily lost in the constant din of race-related shit that comes with my existence both in and out of fan spaces. To borrow from scarrletmoon (I miss having you here!) it's like background radiation. Also, there was always the "maybe it's just bad writing" excuse, or the "it's not my place to say but the way he writes about Judaism isn't quite like the way Jews I know talk about it" excuse. There was my (continued) inability to imagine why some white person would bother, because no amount of clout is worth what it's like to be Black on the internet. There was also probably some kind of aversion I had to the idea of losing "one of us" on here, which honestly might be something he was preying on but it's not productive for me to try to get inside the mind of someone who would do what he's done.

And if I was falling into those particular traps (around the racefaking in particular) myself, there's no way the rest of y'all could have known anything was up. Certainly not in isolation. Now I can't help but wonder if being seen interacting with me gave him some kind of legitimacy in any of your eyes, which is lowkey horrifying if true.

Anyway, those are the things I have to say now, after processing for a bit. It's still not worth my sanity to spend more than 30 seconds at a time looking at Discord, where I know a lot of this sort of thing gets discussed, but I can't help but wish I'd known about this sooner.

[ekkkkey]

vestal (chapter I)

summary: Livia, a young Vestal Virgin, is bound to Vesta’s eternal flame and the vow of sacred duty. In Rome, it’s common knowledge; touch a Vestal, and the wrath of the gods will descend upon you. But what if someone dares to defy that rule?

warnings: 18+ minors dni, dubcon, violence, blood

tags: caracalla is a freak, darkfic, no softboys here

word count: ~3k

"No vow of chastity or sacred duty could restrain him who deemed himself a god, for he believed himself above the laws that bind mere mortals."

-Decimus Rufus, Gods Among Men: The Erosion of Roman Law.

ৡ ৡ ৡ

"This is wrong!" Livia protested, though her outrage came more from personal feeling than from a desire to argue with her mentor. "There are countless priests for that!"

Caesonia, her sworn sister, was ten years older, but always so gentle and easy to talk to that Livia could be honest with her. As long as no one else found out.

"You know how things are," Caesonia said, her voice flat with boredom as she absentmindedly smoothed an invisible wrinkle on her snow-white tunic, making it clear that the matter was settled. "The emperors want to win back the people’s love, and what does the crowd love more than the games?"

"Let them win it without us! Only love for the immortal gods and my homeland make me happy, not mortals who crave power over everything!" She didn’t even understand why she was so passionately opposed, but she couldn’t hold back her fiery outburst.

"Careful, sister," Caesonia warned, her brow furrowing. "You speak of sacred love, but the fathers of Rome are sacred too. Besides, love comes in many forms. Doesn’t love for your family, your loved ones, mean anything to you?"

Livia flinched, her gray eyes drifting into the distance, her lips trembling.

"I don’t know that kind of love," she replied quietly. "I loved my father, my sisters, but that love doesn’t compare to what I feel for the great teachings of Vesta. My father, my mother, my sister—they’re all gone, gone forever, and the gods are eternal. Immortal."

Caesonia sighed deeply, rising from her seat. She tucked her chestnut curls behind her ears and walked over to Livia, gently taking her hands and looking straight into her eyes.

"You didn’t grieve properly, I understand…"

"I don’t need grief," Livia cut in quickly, though her voice trembled. The older Vestal always said Livia was too emotional and fiery. "I only need repentance and service."

"Then serve! The Emperor is the embodiment of Jupiter, Rome itself. And now we have two of them—twice the work, right?" she giggled. Livia, giving in, smiled in response. "Or should I say, the embodiment of Romulus and Remus?"

They were alike in one thing only—both greedy children, far from the greatness of their famed ancestors. And yet, they’re emperors, which makes them the fathers of all living in Rome.

Livia didn’t love the world of mortals, didn’t like leaving the villa or the temple, just as she didn’t enjoy being in large crowds. Until now, the emperors had cared little for the Vestals. They had always dealt with uprisings and discontent with bloodshed, needing no help from them. But now… everything had changed.

The famous and beloved Lucilla, daughter of the late Emperor Marcus Aurelius, had adopted the current emperors, showing her favor. Why and for what, no one knew, and even if they did, they wouldn’t say, knowing how the emperors dealt with loose tongues.

Lucilla was now their mother, General Acacius was replaced by Fulvius Plautianus, who had served under Septimius Severus and was known for his brutal temper, and the Senate was filled with all kinds of scoundrels and sycophants. Livia, like the other Vestals, did not involve herself in politics, but she knew a lot, listening to the gossip of the wives of high-ranking officials who came to make offerings.

"Offer a prayer to Vesta, to Jupiter, anoint yourself with sacred blood, and the priest will tell them what they so desperately want to hear," Caesonia continued. "Then the games will pass, and we’ll return to the temple. It’s an honor, Livia, not a punishment. You’re young, not even fully trained, and yet you drew the lot!"

She really had drawn the short straw when it came time for her and the other sisters to decide who would make a sacrifice to the gods.

"Rituals should remain sacred," Livia replied, less confidently now, not really expecting an answer.

ৡ ৡ ৡ

The first day of the games marked the start of autumn, right in the midst of the festival season, and the city hummed with excitement. The last games had been only recently, but after a string of executions, deaths, and tortures, people were desperate for something lighter. And really, what’s more entertaining than watching someone else die?

Draped in a flowing, snow-white tunic, Livia walked alongside the other Vestals, surrounded by stern-faced Praetorian guards, as they arrived at the Colosseum just as the sun hit its peak, bathing everything in blinding white light.

The crowd showered them with lilies and narcissus, desperate for a glimpse of the sacred priestesses. There were five of them—the sixth had stayed behind to tend the sacred fire. Usually, that was Livia’s role, but today, her duty was different.

She couldn’t hide her awe at the sight before her—flowers scattered everywhere, a roaring sea of people, thousands of voices merging into one. As they passed through the gates and reached the stands, she noticed the shift. These weren’t the same poor and desperate souls who had thrown flowers at her feet. Here, the crowd was wealthier, brighter, draped in a riot of colors and excessive finery.

To her displeasure, Livia understood that in this sea of bright hues and mixed fashions, there was a lack of respect for Roman customs, a disregard encouraged by the emperors, who, by all accounts, dressed quite unusually themselves.

"Over here, Livia," a priest, old and dry as parchment, took her hand, gently pulling her away from the others as they hurried to their designated seats. She turned her head, watching them go.

From a distance, their small platform gleamed—four pristine white figures, dazzling against the chaos of color. It made her smile.

The priest’s grip was light, his skin thin and fragile. He was the only man allowed to touch the Vestals, for he himself was not a man in the eyes of the people, but a vessel of the divine.

When they led her onto the arena floor, the sun blinded her. A thin white veil covered her face, a flower crown resting on her head, and beyond the sheer fabric, the world was hazy. She barely saw the thousands of faces watching her, barely heard the deafening roar of the crowd. Only the scorching heat of the sand beneath her bare feet felt real.

The drums beat. The noise swelled. The herald called out—she didn’t hear what he said. Instead, she lifted her face toward the sun, whispering a prayer under her breath, over and over.

"It is time, child," the priest said, removing her crown and veil. Her dark hair tumbled down over her shoulders, but her gaze remained fixed on the sky. That’s where her true audience watched.

A primal, animalistic scream made her flinch. She finally lowered her face and looked around. Through the central gates leading to the arena, they brought in a massive white bull. The beast was so enormous that six burly men, their faces hidden behind golden masks, struggled to hold it.

The majestic creature tossed its horned head and bellowed loudly, frightened by the crowd. She was scared too, but she didn’t move. Instead, she took the crown from the priest’s hands, waiting as they led the bull closer.

"Behold our sacrifice, Jupiter!" the priest calls loudly, not in the voice of an old man, raising his hands to the sky. Several young boys are gathered nearby, holding a cup and a crooked bronze dagger.

They lead the bull to the center of the arena, forcing it to bow its head, tightening the thick cords around its neck. The animal freezes. Livia does, too, staring directly into its frightened black eyes. Its horns are coated in gold to honor the gods, so with each turn of its neck, they gleam and shimmer.

Slowly, she takes a few steps forward, and the stands fall silent, the rumble quiets, and the drums cease.

Such beauty, such strength—all for the glory of the gods. They love beauty, and they love when the blood of such magnificent creatures is spilled in their name. Back when human sacrifices were still allowed, beautiful, innocent youths and maidens were offered to the gods. Livia only tilted her head in sympathy, silently thanking the animal.

"In ancient times, I could have been in your place."

Her hands tremble slightly, but not from fear; it’s the solemnity of the moment. She was wrong to resist, wrong to argue with her mentor, because now she is living the best moment of her young life.

The black eyes meet hers, gray, and she could swear that these are not the eyes of an animal, but of a human! The bull no longer struggles; on the contrary, it stands still, bowing its head. Solemnly, she places the crown between its golden horns, kneels before it, bending her hands in prayer and closing her eyes.

The beginning of the ritual is marked by the continuous beat of the drums and the priest’s loud prayer. The emperors want to wage war again, to enslave more and more countries and peoples, and now, armed with a fearsome general, they await the gods’ blessing. That’s why she is here, and that’s why blood will be spilled today.

"What do you ask of the gods, amata?" the priest calls out, raising his hands to the sky.

Not opening her eyes or lowering her hands, she shouts as loud as she can in response:

"For blessing, for victory, for the greatness of Rome!"

The drums pounded like a storm, the bull let out a mournful cry, and she kept whispering her prayer, even as her heart pounded harder, even as a terrible unease settled in her stomach.

A moment. A sound—low and guttural.

And then, warmth. Hot liquid splashed over her, soaking her from head to toe. She knew what it was. This was why she knelt—to be anointed, to receive the gods’ answer, to be purified.

The thick, metallic scent filled her nose. Blood stung her eyes, slid down her face, dripped from her lips. It filled her mouth with every breath, stuck in her throat like a swallowed scream. But she didn’t stop. She whispered through bloodied lips, through the deafening drumbeats, until the very last word of her prayer left her tongue.

A bright flash illuminated her, though her eyes were closed, and she saw light—brilliant, beckoning. A good omen. The gods had accepted the sacrifice.

The priest leans down to her, and she whispers the good news to him, and he hoarsely repeats it to the entire Colosseum. The crowd, frozen in eager anticipation, bursts into cheers.

Livia rises to her feet, wiping her face. The blood has already begun to dry, pulling at her skin uncomfortably. The bull lies lifeless at her feet, its black eyes frozen forever. Part of it will be burned as an offering to the gods, and part will be cooked and eaten at the feast after the games. The thought of how it had looked at her with such intelligent eyes makes her sick. She quickly turns away, facing the imperial box, adorned with vines, flowers, and purple banners.

Both emperors raise their right hands in greeting, and the crowd erupts in cheers. How fickle people are! Not long ago, they wanted to tear their rulers apart, and now they celebrate them like divine saviors.

As she leaves the arena, the last thing she sees is the bull’s body being dragged through the opposite gates, a trail of blood smearing across the burning sand. A strange, uneasy feeling grips her, but she pushes it down, too shaken to dwell on it.

ৡ ৡ ৡ

They let her wash her hands and face, change into a clean tunic, but her dark curls, now stiff and heavy with dried blood, still reek of iron and death. She tucks them beneath her veil and hurries back to her place among the other Vestals.

The row where the Vestals sit stands out as a white line among the dressed-up guests. Their platform is on the left side of the imperial box. Livia sits to the right of the senior vestal and keeps her eyes fixed on the imperial box, even though the first fight has already begun. How could she not stare? She’s never been so close to those who rule the world.

Both of her sisters were married to senators, and she doesn’t know either of their husbands. But the Senate was one thing. This was something else entirely.

The emperors are strikingly young. Livia leaned forward slightly, eager to get a better look. The one sitting closest to her taps nervously on the golden armrest with his thin white fingers. Red-haired and pale, he doesn’t give off an impression of greatness or awe. Painted like a maiden, dressed the same. Livia doesn’t accept long garments on men; she sees it as a sign of effeminacy and a betrayal of traditions. A toga would have been more fitting for a man in her view, but then again, these are not just men.

He sat in profile, so no matter how much Livia strained her neck, she couldn’t make out his face. In another fit of curiosity, she rose slightly, hoping to catch a glimpse of the ruler’s face, but immediately found herself facing the mocking gaze of blue eyes. From behind his brother’s shoulder, the second emperor looked at her, leaning in and smiling shamelessly.

Embarrassment floods her, and Livia sits up straight, closes her eyes, cursing herself for her tactlessness and curiosity. She rarely takes an interest in other people, even less often men, so the very fact that she got caught staring, right after having just shown all of Rome the will of the gods, stings her deeply. She liked that the people treated the Vestals with awe and reverence, but in the emperor’s smile, she saw neither respect nor awe, only mockery.

"I’ll introduce you to the emperors later, behave properly," the senior vestal instructs her sternly, and Livia lowers her head in shame.

Today, there weren’t many killings; the festival shouldn’t be tarnished by too many deaths, so the games ended quickly. They were escorted into the halls inside the Colosseum, and as they walked slowly, still surrounded by the Praetorian guards, the crowd parted before them, eyeing them and whispering. The last time the Vestals had appeared at the games was under Marcus Aurelius, so their appearance was truly a momentous event for all of Rome.

"Raise your head, child, here are our rulers," her mentor commanded, and Livia obediently looked ahead.

Their arrival was met with a swell of voices, loud exclamations ringing through the air.

The first of the two, the one she had noticed in the stands, was tall and stately, but no warrior. His features were fine and well-defined, his dark eyes sharp with intelligence, but the set of his full lips betrayed a restless, nervous nature. A golden laurel nestled in the soft waves of his reddish curls, and his slender frame was draped in a black trabea trimmed with deep purple. Beneath it, a long tunic of the same black, embroidered with gold, shimmered in the light. He looked more like an eastern king than a Roman emperor. She didn’t like him.

While she was studying one of the emperors, the other had already been studying her. She could feel his gaze like a touch, sharp and deliberate. Quickly, she turned to face him.

Oh, he was nothing like his brother.

Shorter, narrower in the shoulders, he moved with a slow, fluid grace, completely at ease. Livia tilted her head slightly, and he mirrored the gesture with an amused glint in his eye. Was he teasing her?

Livia knew that fashion required women to whiten their faces and paint their eyelids, and appearing without blush was considered bad taste—but she had never seen a painted man before. The first emperor’s lids were dusted with a soft, ashy gray, subtle but noticeable. The second’s bright blue eyes were rimmed with warm peach, a color so vivid against his pale skin that it caught her off guard. A shade she had never seen on a man.

He wore a short-sleeved tunic of rich purple, cinched at the waist with a wide golden belt. Her gaze caught on the huge gold medallion hanging from his white neck down to his chest. The sign of Fortuna, the goddess of luck. Did he even understand its meaning? Judging by the many rings and bracelets that gleamed along his fingers and wrists, she doubted it.

Finally, the Praetorians parted, and they, along with the other Vestals, stood face to face with the emperors. The tall one bent slightly and extended his hand, as if expecting the senior Vestal to offer her hand for a kiss. Livia couldn’t help but smirk. Vestals were forbidden to be touched by men, even by the emperor himself. Didn’t he know this?

The awkward moment was broken by the mocking laughter of the second emperor. His brother straightened up, pressed his lips together in irritation, and cast a glance first at his brother, then at them.

"We are glad that you honored us with your presence," he said loudly. His voice was deep and low, yet there were still nervous notes, as if he were anxious.

"And we are grateful for the invitation, Emperor Geta," her mentor replied with a respectful nod.

Geta.

Livia turned her gaze back to the other brother. So this was Caracalla.

"This is Livia," the senior Vestal introduced her. Livia stepped forward, her back straight as a blade, chin raised. "She brought good news to the arena today."

"I see," Caracalla finally spoke. His voice was hoarse, starkly contrasting the softness of his features.

Standing beside him, Livia noticed that the powdered skin, which had appeared so flawless from a distance, was marred by tiny wounds, some of which hadn’t healed and were hidden under layers of rouge. The emperor, sensing her gaze, immediately furrowed his pale brows and lifted his chin, wounded by the thought that she had seen his imperfections. It must be difficult to consider oneself a god when one’s earthly vessel is so far from perfect.

"Oh, that was quite a sight," Geta continued warmly, looking directly at her. His hand twitched forward as if he wanted to take her hand, but she immediately pulled away, causing another burst of laughter from Caracalla.

"You’re too kind, Caesar," she answered with measured dignity. "The scale of the spectacle was truly impressive."

"There will be a feast this evening," Geta said, nodding to her and her sisters. "Join us."

"I’m afraid we must serve at the temple, Emperor."

"What is allowed to Jupiter is not allowed to the bull," Geta quoted, hinting that, with their status, they could do much more than the common citizens of Rome.

"What is allowed to the bull, is not allowed to Jupiter," she replied, and his smile faltered. "Had he not turned into an bull, he would never have approached a defenseless maiden, would he?"

Once again, the young emperor looked wounded, unsure of what to say, helplessly turning to his smiling brother. Livia realized who he reminded her of—the sacrificial bull in the arena today. He had the same dark eyes, vivid and strangely sorrowful, but no trace of wisdom, no matter how hard she tried to look. Geta noticed she was studying him and fluttered his long eyelashes in confusion, then smiled again.

"You’re wise, though young," he tried to compliment her, smoothing over the awkward conversation.

To some, he might have seemed charming. Handsome, even. To someone who hadn’t devoted her life to the glory of Vesta.

"Thank you, Caesar."

The little show ends, and the eldest priestess steps up, leading them away with the emperors.

"They’re quite charming, aren’t they?" Caesonia says quietly, glancing at her with a smile.

Livia tensed. Curious gazes followed them from all sides, high-ranking guests watching their every move. A strange feeling crept over her—guilt. As if she had thought too harshly of her emperors. As if she had been unfair.

"Dignified and charming, yes," she answers calmly, suppressing her negative thoughts.

Order in the mind—order in the heart, and that’s how one must serve the gods. She ran her fingers under the veil, letting her dark curls slip through, trying to focus. Her hair was still soaked in blood, dry and tangled. She stared at her hand, pink from the blood stains, the smell of iron in the air.

"I mean them as men, child," the elder priestess smiles slyly.

Livia paled, a crease appeared between her brows, and her lips tightened into a line.

"You know your vows better than I do, sister," her voice rang with tension.

"Look, don’t touch, darling," the elder priestess continued, her tone unchanged. "We can admire them like beautiful trinkets. You wouldn’t scold me if I were to admire an intricately carved box, or…"

"I need to wash my hands," Livia interrupts her, causing Caesonia to laugh.

They weren’t stone, they had feelings, emotions, struggles. And desires too. Other Vestals sometimes spoke of men, but Livia had never joined in those conversations. And she wouldn’t now. Her training was ongoing, and the last thing she wanted to think about was worldly, base desires.

A bowl of water stood by one of the columns, meant for purification. Livia walked toward it, the crowd parting before her, holding their breath. She was flattered by this. Now, surrounded by gazes brimming with admiration, adoration, and quiet awe, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride. Later, she would ask the Goddess for forgiveness for her vanity, but for now, the young Vestal basked in the attention.

She dipped her hands into the cool water, and it immediately bloomed with pink.

"Smells like blood," a voice said behind her.

A strange sense of anxiety gripped her, and her heart began pounding so strongly that it made breathing hard. On the outside, she tried to remain calm, as always. After finishing washing her hands, she turned toward the speaker.

Emperor Caracalla was grinning wide, showing a gold tooth. It seemed the young ruler was in a great mood.

"It is blood, my Caesar."

"Watching you there, kneeling on the arena’s sand, bathed in blood, was the greatest pleasure of the day. I fear even tonight’s feast will not bring me such…delight," his voice was soft, smooth, flowing like honey, and his eyes gleamed with slyness. He was teasing her in a bold, shameless way!

When she was very young, living with her father and sisters, Cassandra and Claudia used to tease her, taking advantage of the fact that they were older. But in the emperor’s words, there was something different. Caracalla didn’t say anything outright offensive, but something about it felt improper. Was it the way he smiled, the way he stood, nonchalantly leaning his shoulder against a column?

In every movement, she sensed how utterly unserious he was—how he tilted his chin, half-closed his eyes, and stretched his painted lips into a lazy smirk.

He reminded her of a cat. The one that lived in the gardens of the Temple of Vesta, rolling from side to side, stretching out its fluffy body under the sun. That one was ginger too.

"It’s an honor to serve Rome, to serve you," he grinned wider, "And your brother," his smile immediately faded, and Livia was stunned at how quickly his expression changed.

For the first time, she was looked at with such disdain. She blinked, trying to convince herself she hadn’t imagined it. No, Caesar still stood there with a deep furrow between his brows, his nostrils flaring. Livia stepped back, unsure what had triggered his anger.

Almost as if seeking support or comfort, she turned, only to meet the black eyes of Emperor Geta. He stood at a distance, surrounded by a crowd. A beautiful copper-haired girl was speaking to him, but his gaze was fixed elsewhere, cutting through the sea of people—on her.

She faltered, then suddenly realized—this had nothing to do with her. The emperors were watching each other.

She mentally pictured herself from the outside: innocent, chaste, in white garments, she should remain dignified and focused. Livia was a priestess of Vesta, not a cunning and ambitious matron, so the emperors’ quarrels didn’t interest her.

Leaving Caracalla behind, she hurried toward the other Vestals, but was suddenly, shamelessly grabbed by the arms and pulled into an embrace. If this had been a man, they’d have been crucified in the Forum by morning, but…

"Livia, my dear!" she hardly recognizes the face of the girl in front of her.

"Claudia!" The calm mask slips from her face for a moment, and she smiles at her sister, whom she hasn’t seen in ages.

"You’ve grown so much! A real beauty! And you look just like Cassandra! Your nose, your lips, your cheekbones," Claudia’s finger traced her face, and Livia shuddered at the unfamiliar sensation of someone else’s touch. "But your eyes… they’re from our father. Ah, our dear sister was so gentle…" Her voice wavered, and her hand dropped.

A man’s arms wrap around her shoulders, and only now does Livia notice the rounded belly of Claudia, the gaunt look on her face, and how feverishly her cheeks shone.

"Congratulations!" she quickly changes the subject, not wanting to speak of Cassandra.

"Yes, yes, this is my husband, Senator Appius, I don’t think you’ve met him, have you?" Claudia’s smile suddenly fades, but her husband grins broadly.

The exchange of pleasantries drags on for too long, and then her mentor arrives.

"It was good to see you, Livia," her sister whispers one last time. "We live at the palace now, visit me, I get so lonely sometimes…"

Livia nods sincerely, promising to visit, and hurries to join the other Vestals. The grip of her mentor on her arm is tight, and her gaze is nervous.

"What did you do to anger the emperors?"

"Me?" her voice sounds genuinely surprised, but then she remembers Caracalla’s hateful gaze, and she too asks herself the same question. "I don’t know, I’m sorry."

Suddenly, the crowd around her—the murmuring guests, the admiring stares—became unbearable. What had once flattered her now felt suffocating. Hundreds of eyes watched her with reverence, with curiosity, yet only one pair—bright, piercing, burning with something close to fury—ruined her mood completely. She didn’t belong here.

Still, before she could leave the Colosseum and return to the Vestal House, she would have to face them once again.

Caesonia noticed her growing unease and linked arms with her, trying to comfort her.

"Once again, we thank you for the honor you have shown us and hope to see you again," Geta began, locking his hands together.

"We are pleased that the bond between our temple and the emperors has been restored," the senior Vestal responded politely.

"Oh, and one more thing," Geta said, theatrically raising his hands, "Our mother wished to visit your temple…"

"Yes, mother," Caracalla mockingly drawled, cutting off his brother. There was something in his tone that Livia didn’t like again. That’s not how you speak about your parents, even if they’re not by blood. "She can get so lonely, and we’re not always around to entertain her properly."

Her cheeks flushed, and Livia didn’t understand why, but Caracalla noticed her brief pause and grinned, his mouth opening slightly, pleased that he had provoked some emotion from her. She lifted her chin, refusing to seem vulnerable, even though inside she was embarrassed.

The moment of farewell came. She longed to return home as quickly as possible, to forget all these strange glances and words. There, among the other Vestals, she would be safe, and no troubling thoughts would haunt her.

"Until we meet again," Geta said politely, licking his upper lip and adding, "Amata, I hope next time we can do without the bloodshed."

Amata. Beloved.

She only nodded, unwilling to show how much she disliked being addressed that way by a stranger.

Caracalla didn’t say a word, looking away as if he didn’t even notice her.

And just as she exhaled, walking past him, quietly relieved by the absence of his attention, she felt it.

A touch.

A featherlight, teasing touch traced from the tip of her pinky, gliding up the soft curve of her hand—barely noticeable, yet it burned like fire.

She stopped, glancing back over her shoulder, but the emperor wasn’t looking at her; on the contrary, he was leaning toward his brother, speaking to him.

It felt as though she’d been struck. The heat spread across her cheeks, sank lower into her chest, then froze in her stomach. How dare he?! No one had the right to touch them. Neither mortal nor immortal man would ever dare touch a Vestal Virgin. But he… He turned away, pretending nothing had happened, though that single gesture had shaken everything she had believed in for so long.

Trying to suppress her anger and confusion, she hurried toward her sisters, unaware that both emperors were watching her leave.

Without realizing it, Livia had started a new game.

ৡ ৡ ৡ

note: this story is directly connected to there will be games! Livia is the sister of Cassandra, the protagonist of that story. It’s been about two months since the events of the finale and what Geta did.

[rafes-slut]

Hopelessly Yours

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Extreme fluff, possessive but soft Rafe, lots of kisses, protective behavior, pet names (baby, angel), mild jealousy, suggestive moments but nothing explicit, established relationship, Rafe being totally whipped.

You didn’t know it was possible for someone like Rafe to be this gone over anyone. To be completely head over heels, hopelessly, helplessly in love—yet here he was, arms wrapped around you in the kitchen as you made coffee, pressing soft kisses to the back of your neck like he couldn’t breathe unless his lips were on you.

“You’re really clingy today,” you teased, trying to pour cream into your mug without spilling it as his arms tightened around your waist.

“Today?” he scoffed, voice low in your ear. “I’m always like this, don’t even act like I’m not.”

You laughed, leaning back into him just a little because you loved it, even if you never admitted that out loud. Rafe being clingy was nothing new—it had started from the moment you became his and only got worse. He always wanted to touch you, even if it was something small, like resting his hand on your thigh while driving or lacing his fingers through yours while walking down the street. He had to feel you near him.

He nuzzled into your hair, inhaling deeply like the scent of you was the only thing keeping him grounded. “I missed you,” he murmured against your skin.

“You saw me this morning,” you said, sipping your coffee with a smile.

He pulled back just enough to tilt your chin and make you look at him, his blue eyes locked on yours. “Still missed you,” he said, seriously. “Miss you even when you’re in the same room, baby.”

Your heart did a little somersault because he meant it. Rafe didn’t just love you—he adored you. Worshipped you. Like you’d hung the stars in his sky. And it was obvious in everything he did.

You were sitting on the couch later that day, legs tucked under you, half-watching a show and half-scrolling your phone. Rafe was next to you, sprawled out, head in your lap, staring up at you like you held the answers to every question in the universe. His fingers played lazily with the hem of your shirt, thumb brushing soft circles against your skin.

“You’re staring,” you said, peeking down at him.

“Can’t help it,” he said, voice a little raspy, his hand sliding up to rest on your waist. “You’re just so fuckin’ pretty.”

A blush crept into your cheeks, and Rafe grinned at the way you tried to hide it, burying your face in your phone.

“You’re doing it again,” you said, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably.

He sat up, pulling your phone from your hands and tossing it onto the coffee table. “You’re mine, right?” he asked, serious now.

You nodded, confused. “Of course, Rafe.”

“Then you gotta get used to me staring. Touching. Kissing.” He leaned in and kissed your cheek, then your jaw, then your lips, slow and deep, like he had all the time in the world. “I love you. So much, it’s insane. I think about you constantly. I dream about you. All I want is you.”

Your chest felt like it could burst with how much you loved him back. He wasn’t always good with words, but when he was, they hit hard. And the way he looked at you now, eyes shining, like you were his entire world—it was overwhelming in the best way.

Later that night, you were curled up in bed, Rafe’s arms wrapped tightly around you from behind, his face pressed against your shoulder. He whispered softly, half-asleep, “Don’t leave me… ever.”

You turned in his arms, brushing his hair back, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Never,” you whispered. “I’m yours, Rafe. Always.”

His eyes fluttered open, sleepy but full of adoration, and he kissed you—gentle, slow, like he never wanted the moment to end. “I don’t deserve you,” he said against your lips.

“You deserve everything,” you replied, cupping his face.

[rafesgreasycurtainbangs]

ANGST!!! pogue gf probably has family issues too, so this is HER chance to give her baby the life she wished she had, but in some ways she’s very wary of rafe actually loving her and thinks that he’s only with her for the baby

trust issues - rafe cameron x pregnant!pogue!reader

series masterlist

⊹ ‧₊˚ ౨ৎ content: angst with a fluff ending, reader has trust issues, kook vs pogue drama, absentee parents

⊹ ‧₊˚ ౨ৎ yap: thank you lovie for this request xx 😚 also im posting all my drafts that i have currently so its gonna be a lot

⊹ ‧₊˚ ౨ৎ word count: 1.06k

You’d grown up with nothing but hand-me-downs and hollow promises—parents who fought more than they loved, a mom who left when you were twelve, and a dad who drowned his guilt in cheap beer. The trailer you called home was a rusted cage, walls thin enough to hear every slur and crash of glass from the next room over. You swore you’d never let your kid feel that—never let them know the ache of being unwanted, the sting of a slammed door. Being pregnant with Rafe Cameron’s baby was your shot, your one-way ticket to build something better, something stable. But it came with a catch: Rafe. A Kook prince with a temper and a reputation, who looked at you with those piercing blue eyes and said all the right things. You wanted to believe him—God, you did—but every fiber of you screamed he was only here for the baby, not you. How could he love a Pogue like you, scraped raw from a life he’d never understand?

You sat on the edge of your lumpy mattress, staring at the cracked ceiling of your bedroom, one hand resting on your swollen belly—eight months now, the kicks a constant reminder of what was at stake. The trailer was quiet for once, your dad passed out on the couch with a bottle still clutched in his hand. You’d just gotten off a shift at the Wreck, feet throbbing, back screaming, but you’d tucked another $15 into that mason jar under your bed. “For baby,” you whispered to yourself, like a prayer. It was all for them—the crib you’d seen at the thrift store, the soft blankets you couldn’t afford yet. You’d give this kid everything you never had: a home that didn’t reek of regret, a parent who stayed.

The screen door squeaked, and you tensed. Rafe stepped in, his boots heavy on the warped floorboards, a plastic bag of takeout dangling from his hand. He’d been doing this lately—showing up unannounced, bringing food or random baby stuff like pacifiers you hadn’t asked for. “Hey,” he said, voice low as he glanced at your dad’s snoring form. “You eat yet?”

You shook your head, avoiding his eyes as you stood, wincing at the ache in your hips. “Wasn’t hungry.” A lie. You hadn’t eaten since breakfast—half a granola bar you’d found in your bag—but you hated how he noticed, how he kept trying to take care of you. It felt like a trap, like he was building a case to prove you needed him.

He set the bag on the rickety kitchen table, pulling out a burger and fries, the smell making your stomach growl despite yourself. “Bullshit,” he muttered, pushing it toward you. “You’re eating. You’re carrying my kid, and you look like you’re about to collapse.”

Your jaw tightened, pride flaring. “I’m fine, Rafe. I’ve been handling myself a long time before you showed up.” You didn’t move for the food, even though you wanted to. It was the principle—every bite felt like admitting you couldn’t do this alone, like letting him in deeper than you could afford.

He dragged a hand through his hair, frustration etching his face. “Why do you keep doing this? Acting like I’m the enemy? I’m here, alright? I’m trying to—” He cut himself off, exhaling hard. “I see you killing yourself for that jar under your bed, and it pisses me off. You don’t have to.”

You flinched, heat rising in your chest. He’d seen it—course he had, he noticed everything. “That’s for my baby,” you snapped, voice shaking. “Not yours to fix. I’m not some project, Rafe. I’m not gonna let you play house with me just ‘cause I got pregnant.”

His eyes darkened, and he stepped closer, voice dropping low and firm. “You think that’s what this is? Me playing house? That’s my kid too, and you’re—” He stopped, jaw clenching as he looked at you, really looked. “You’re falling apart, and you won’t let me near you. Why?”

“Because I don’t trust you” The words ripped out of you, raw and jagged, tears burning your eyes. “You’re a Cameron. You’ve got money, a big house, a whole life I don’t fit into. I’m just the Pogue chick who got knocked up—why the hell would you want me? You’re here for the baby, and that’s fine, but don’t pretend it’s more than that. I can’t—” Your voice cracked, and you turned away, wiping at your face. “I can’t let myself think you love me. Not when I know how this ends.”

The room went silent, thick with the weight of it. You heard him breathe, slow and heavy, before his hand caught your arm, turning you back to face him. His grip was firm but not rough, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your chest ache. “You’re wrong,” he said, voice low, almost broken. “I’m not here just for the kid. I’m here for you—have been since that first night we hooked up and you looked at me like I was more than some Kook asshole. You think I don’t love you? I’m a mess over you, and you won’t even see it.”

You shook your head, tears spilling now. “You don’t get it, Rafe. I’ve never had anyone stay. My mom left, my dad’s a ghost even when he’s here. I’m giving this baby everything I didn’t have, and I can’t—I can’t let myself need you, because when you go, it’ll break me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, pulling you closer, his hands framing your face. “You hear me? I’m not your mom, not your dad. I’m not leaving you or that kid. Yeah, I want our baby to have a good life—better than this shit—” he gestured at the trailer “—but I want you too. I’m pissed because you’re carrying my world in you, and you’re treating yourself like you don’t matter.”

You sobbed, the dam breaking, and he pulled you into his chest, arms tight around you as you shook. “I’m scared,” you whispered against him, the truth spilling out. “I’m so fucking scared.”

“I know,” he murmured, lips pressing into your hair. “But you’re not alone in this. I swear you’re not.” He held you there, the takeout forgotten, your dad’s snores fading into the background, until your breathing slowed and the fear loosened its grip—just a little.

taglist: @littlelamy @drewstarkeyswife0 @icaqttt

[straows]

Gojo fucks you like he hates you when he’s drunk.

Poll result imagine

Gojo had been knocking back shots all night. Celebrating that you’d agreed to be his finance, and accepted his ring. Lord he was happy. Got the girl of his dreams, the girl he’d been plotting over since kindergarten. The girl he has been in love with since fifth grade but he’d always sworn he’d been in love since y’all had a play date when you were both three.

It was just you and him. He didn’t want to be around anyone else for now except you. Even tho he did want to eventually show you off to all his friends.

He wore a button up shirt, the buttons unbuttoned, along with a pair of slacks. The belt unbuckled and the button unbuttoned, leaving his fly slightly unzipped. His glasses had been discarded on the counter and his hair was a mess. A sexy mess albeit.

And as he’d tap his glass on the counter and tip his head back, downing the shot— his eyes would remain on yours.

You weren’t much better. Just as buzzed as he was, and just as happy to be his and he be yours. You just wore his shirt and a pair of panties.

Hair still wet from your shower. You gave him a goofy smile, pulling him closer by his shirt. “What’s cookin’ good lookin’?”

“You are so corny.” A lot coming from Gojo, especially as he’d always crack the corny jokes. Letting you pull him closer, his hands resting on your hips. His forehead came to rest on yours, his eyes lidded as he stared down at you.

“Yeah? You like it.” You grinned, your nails gently raking down his chest before slipping them under his shirt. The feeling of your cold hands on his abs had them tensing, a quiet hiss leaving him.

“Maybe just a bit. But you know what I really like?” Leaning down, he whispered against your ear as he reached behind you, squeezing your ass with a grin.

You giggled, letting him pull you close as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Yeah? You like me so much.”

“Oh absolutely.” Gojo pressed a kiss to your neck, following with a bite. Your breath hitched softly, nails squeezing slightly on his shoulders.

“My husband is so whipped.” You teased, your hand raising to tangle with the hair on his nape. Grown out from an old undercut as you tug it gently.

Gojo groaned into your neck, the title ‘husband’ had his body reacting way more strongly than it should’ve. Cock straining against his boxers, heart thudding against his chest. “Fuck, it sounds so good when you say it.”

You could smile before finally pulling his face from your neck and pressing your lips against his. His mouth tasted like Malibu, tequila, and rum with some shitty chaser. And it only made you more eager.

You trusted your fiancé, you’d spoken about drunk before, and you’d both decided that it was fine. You trusted one another and had a safe word already in place.

Plus. Being drunk made it more interesting.

Before you knew it, Gojo had you riding his face, thighs on either side of his head, his arms wrapped around them to keep you planted firmly on his mouth. His tongue putting in the work as he ate you out like a man starved.

He was groaning and moaning, his eyes rolling back each time you squeeze your thighs around his head. His hips pushed up into nothing, painfully throbbing cock pressing against his boxers.

Your hands ran through his hair and tugged, guiding him so his nose would bump against your clit and you could grind on his face. And Gojo was loving every fucking second.

“F-fuck— Toru!!” You’d squeal, the pleasure had your brain short circuiting. Your thought process already thrown out the window from being more than sloshed with an array of alcoholic beverages, but with how good Gojo was working you with his mouth, lord the only thing you could think about was him.

“You taste so fucking good, pretty girl.” He’d groan against your cunt before shaking his head a bit, grinning when you’d moan louder. He knew you were close, the way your clit was throbbing against his tongue and your hole was clenching around the fingers he’d shoved inside was a tell-tell sign.

“Mm!” You could only loan in response as you felt an orgasm hit you full force. Your thighs clenching and your cunt tightening like a vice around his fingers.

Gojo moved you to sit on his lap as he sat up. His face, nose down, absolutely covered in your arousal, he only grinned and licked his lips.

Brows furrowed, face completely fucked out, you breathlessly murmured, “you are fucking filthy.”

“Mhmm, you gonna ride my cock? Let me put a baby in my future wife?” Gojo wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against him, your spazzing cunt resting directly on top of his bulge.

“Mmhm.” Nodding your head, you let Gojo move positions. You let him lay you on your back, and move you so you had the back of your thighs pressed against his chest, your ass resting just belong his cock as he pulled it out, letting it slap against your aching cunt.

“So good for me, shit. Not gonna last long baby.” He grunted, eyes already fluttering closed as you pressed down on his dick so it’d be squished between the lips of your cunt.

“Fuck me already, husband. Want it so bad.” You could only whine, and press you hands flat against his v-line, urging him to press inside you.

“Don’t gotta ask me twice.” Gojo was quick to slowly slide in, however, he didn’t stop to let you adjust, no he slid in straight to the hilt. Stuttered moans slipped past his lips, his hips struggling not to slam against you with how wet you were.

“O-oh fuck, want your babies— please, please,” you babbled mindlessly, the feeling of that big stretch had your mind blank. The feeling of his dick in your guts enough to make you crave him more.

“You can’t just that,” Gojo groaned, before finally giving in and pulling out, just to slam back into you.

His hands were tight around the back of your thighs, nails digging into your soft skin as he pounded into you. His pelvis flush against your ass every time he fucked his cock into your tight cunt. Groaning and mumbling incoherent shit about how you were his wife and he’d make you pregnant as fast as fucking possible.

Your nails rake down the top of his thighs, leaving behind bright red trails that had him hissing in pain, but it only had his cock throbbing.

One hand moved off your hips, and he leaned forward so low that your knees touched your chest. One hand on the bed beside your head as he balanced and put all his weight into fucking you.

“Toru~!” You’d cry out constantly, eyes rolling back as he managed to get deeper inside you. You swore you could feel him in your guts. But then again that could just be the alcohol talking.”

“S-shit, I’m not gonna last baby.” Quickly, he moved a hand down between your thighs and only your click. Moving into tight, quick circles. “Cum with me, pretty girl. Wanna feel you cream around me as I fill you up.”

Gojo’s filthy words had you whining, but you only nodded. The extra stimulation had your back arching and your nails raking down his back inside of his thighs. It didn’t take long before you were cumming around him and he was filling your puss up to the brim with his seed.

It left you both panting breathlessly, seamlessly melting against one another as Gojo pulled around and plopped down beside you.

He immediately wrapped his arms around you, his face pressing into your chest, buried in your tits. Your thighs wrapped around his arms and your hands gently raked through his hair.

Thoroughly sated and exhausted. Your head spinning as you felt your eyes forcefully close themselves.

“I love you.” Gojo smiled and pressed a kiss to the engagement ring on your finger. Before allowing himself to pass out with you.

[muqingslover]

[ As promised I present to you Caleb's NSFW alphabet! I actually had fun making this and got a bit carried away oops. I added little descriptions for some to avoid confusion and I'll be doing the alphabet of the other boys too ;) ]

A = Aftercare

After sex with Caleb feels so comfortable in a way that is just, easy. He'd tease about how wrecked you look only to laugh when you tell him off, catching the pillow thrown at him before it hit his face and then pouncing to tickle you.

He has a lot of energy after sex too Instead of tiring him out it refreshes him type of deal. So he'd make the two of you something to eat after a shower and put on a show the two of you were watching or find some board game to play with you.

B = Bondage

Be it him tying you up or the other way around he is into it. The only thing is that every time it's happened it was 100% not planned and the restraints were just whatever was closer at the time— A belt, a necktie, a necklace wink wink.

C = Crying

Every time you cry he gets worried so it's not his favorite thing. It just doesn't do anything for him to see you in tears, even if it's because of pleasure. Caleb never wants to be the reason for your tears period.

He is also not the type to shed tears for multiple reasons (unless we're talking about you dying or something) sorry ladies.

D = Dominance

Though he has a preference for being dominant I think Caleb is also a HUGE switch! He would do anything for his s/o and if this means he has to get on his knees for you then he 100% will because the look on your face is just worth so much to him.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

📢 VIRGIN !

sorry, I mean he has no experience. Absolutely zero. However, he does have some idea of what to do because he's searched it up merely for your sake. He wants to be ready for anything and that includes making you feel good.

F = Favorite position

Any position where he can see your face is his favorite. Perhaps a bit tradicional, but he does enjoy missionary because then he can have your hands pinned down against the mattress and you completely open to him.

G = Goofy (are they serious in the moment? Or are they humorous? etc.)

I think it can be a mix? It really depends on context with this little guy. He can be overly serious or very playful, causing the both of you to exchange giggles in the middle of it because of some silly comment or because he bumped his head by accident.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes?)

He likes to shave everything because he wants to feel and look "clean" for you. Mans just obsessed with being perfect in every way for his partner and that includes being a hairless dog.

I = Impact play

Hitting you is not for him. Caleb just can't bring himself to raise his hand against you in any way, but you doing it....Well, let's just say he wouldn't mind it if you were to slap him around when he didn't listen. He'd like it if you were to grab his face with a firm hand, adding a pleasurable sting to the red spot on his cheek, to make him do whatever it is you wanted.

J = Jack off (how often do they masturbate? Do they enjoy doing it alone? ect.)

*taps mic one more time*: The most sexually frustrated virgin to ever walk this Earth.

For years Caleb had no choice but to get himself off while thinking about you and using your clothes, your scent, and even with all his self-control a person has needs yk.

During teen years this poor guy wanted to bury himself in a ditch because of how horny he was. You breathed a little too close to his neck and boom, he has a hard-on. Now that he's older? Not that much changed, but because he's so busy he just doesn't really have the time to do it and it slips his mind.

K = Kissing (How do they kiss? Where do they like to kiss or be kissed the most?)

He loves, loves, loooooves kissing your lips. Like, your lips are swollen and bruised because of how much he does it. It's always so passionate and hungry once he starts because he's been waiting so damn long for this. Your taste on his tongue makes his head spin so good and all he wants is to keep kissing you until neither of you are able to breathe.

L = Location (favorite places to have sex.)

His (locked) office, his bed, in the shower. In that order.

M = Masochism (are they an M or an S? Do they enjoy pain? How much can they handle it? ect.)

Masochist alert !

Honestly he wouldn't be here if he wasn't some kind of masochist let's be so real right now.

Like I said he wouldn't ever hurt you, but he is okay with being roughed up if it's by your hands. The harsh pain on his scalp when you pull on his hair and the feeling of your foot stepping on his pitiful boner are enough to make him cum before even taking off his pants. Caleb lives for any attention from you and the way your eyes sharpen when you glare down at him who was put on his knees just make him so weak. Gods, you look stunning from above.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Blindfolding him or covering your face are a big no-go. His FOMO is so bad it seriously cracks me up.

Threesomes, group sex, public sex ect— Anything that involves sharing you or showing you to others is an absolute no.

And of course, anything that includes hurting you or making you cry.

O = Oral

Okay so he is reaaaally into both, but I feel like he enjoys being on the receiving end more even if he wouldn't ever admit it.

The feeling of your warm, wet mouth around his cock and the way your eyes get a little hazed seem to satisfy a side to him he never thought would be satisfied. His pervy, teen self wouldn't believe how far he's come (get it? lol)

Regarding skill— My pookies know I have a virgin Caleb agenda here so he is not the best, at first at least. You have to take the time to teach him how to make you feel good, but he is a fast learner ;).

P = Patience

Rarely denies you an orgasm UNLESS he is in one of his "teasing" moods because you were giving him a little too much attitude.

H O W E V E R this loser can only hold out for so long when it comes to you. If you say the right thing, with the right tone, blinking your little puppy dog eyes at him he's gonna fold like a paper crane.

Oh not to mention the fact that he will always keep your hands faaaar away from his body because the second you touch him his resolve crumbles completely.

Q = Quickie

Personally I think he is not the biggest fan of quickies, but he does do it often. Caleb has a godly amount of self-control that only begins to fall apart once he's in a relationship because everything is just overwhelming, in more ways than one. His hands have a will of their own, exploring your body anytime he can and more often than not it ends in some sort of pleasure experience.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes, absolutely. I said it before that Caleb loooves your body and he is so suppressed from all those years that he is more than willing to try a bit of everything as long as it doesn't bring you any harm. Not to mention that he LIVES to please you and anything you asked, if doable, he will do it. No questions asked.

S = Sleepy sex

I don't think he enjoys it to be honest. He always likes to be 100% aware of the feeling of your pussy tightening around him and bringing him to his release. He also doesn't feel like he can pleasure you properly if he is not fully awake.

Again, his FOMO is just ridiculous lmfao

T = Top, Bottom or Vers

In this blog I preach about him being a vers! Though I think he's mostly a top because he likes the role of being the one who takes care of you.

U = Underwear

Panty sniffer ! Panty thief ! we all yell in unison.

Well, he does enjoy your underwear. In specific though? Caleb enjoys the piece of fabric alone more than when you're wearing it because he likes to imagine it on your body and touch where it would be touching you. Pervy stuff, I know.

He also prefers if you wear his clothes, including his boxers.

V = Voyeurism

Letting others watch you? Absolutely NOT.

Him watching you getting off or the other way around however? Whew, the thought alone has him hot and bothered.

W = Wild card (personal headcanon that can be considered unexpected)

He will agree to pegging. There I said it so strap on ladies.

X = X-Ray

I ain't doing this LMFAO sorry pookies dick anatomy is not for me. yk, a dick is a dick.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He has such high sex drive it's insane. He doesn't last too long when the two of you have sex for the first few times, but even when he's all shaky and overstimulated he still has the stamina to keep going.

Z = Zones (His sensitive spot/s)

His dick. I'm so serious right now. It may be obvious, but it really is the most sensitive part of him and anywhere close to his inner thighs/pelvis is just as good.

Caleb also considers extremely erotic if you suck his fingers while maintaining eye contact - guarantee to get him hard in seconds.

[star-suh]

Boy Toy

Jung Sungchan x Male Reader

—

being an idol is though work, dealing with rehearsals, learning choreos, recording songs, being in front of a lot of people, etc. but there's one specific member that has one more problem to add to all that, sungchan, who has a massive cock paired with a high libido, he started to masturbate thinking that would be enough, that worked –but only for some months– then he move on to use toys, fleshlights, cock rings, a vibrating wand or one of those silicon fleshlights shape like an ass, surprisingly this worked for him but soon it got tired for him, he wanted to try the real thing, a warm tight hole to obliterate with his huge veiny cock. man was big everywhere –height and dick size–.

but all changed one day when sungchan went to a vacation resort with his member yn, they were there to record a vlog for their youtube channel. one night yn walked out of the bathroom looking for his underwear, using the towel to just cover his dick with one hand. he looked everywhere for it – even in the floor, but didn't find them, “maybe i still have them on my bag” when he turns around he realizes sungchan was there all the time, he watched how yn cheeks opened, showing his hole when he crouched to search on the floor, “oh my god sungchan !!” he jumped surprised. they both made eye contact for a time until sungchan stroked his big bulge, “would you help me?. i need it… please” the taller one said, letting the other guy know what he wanted. sungchan is a really handsome guy and by the looks he's packing too “w-why?” yn asks. “i had fuck every toy that exists but they end up breaking apart and they're not as warm as a real one.. please just this time” he was practically begging yn to let him use his ass, “okay, but just this time”..

“fuck you’re so big” yn struggled to go down sungchan’s hard rock dick, “yeah it’s a pain in the ass sometimes, my toys constantly break” he says while guiding yn’s hips with his hands, making him go down little by little. the tight hole engulfing each inch. “you’re gonna split me in half sungchan” yn cried when he finally bottomed out. leaning backwards made a bulge to form on yn’s stomach, a bulge that sungchan touched slightly and made yn’s body to spasm a little, “holy shh-” yn gulped, “it feels funny” he hissed. “it does. stay like that a little bit” –yn complied– sungchan started to do circular motions with his point finger on top of it, drawing little whimpers out of yn’s mouth. sungchan’s hips rocking slightly due to yn squeezing him every time the sensitive bulge is touched. “i think i’m ready. you can move now”.

it started with slow thrusts, sungchan pushing his massive dick up while yn held a steady squat position, his hole being stretched continuously by such a girthy dick, he had never seen one like that before. every vein filling every crevice on yn’s insides, they accommodate perfectly to sungchan’s length. then the thrusts started to get faster and faster. “you’re better than all those toys i bought” sungchan added, lowering yn with his hands gripping the other’s hips, “ride me” he asked and yn did as he was told. first he rocked his hips front to back with the top’s length still inside him, “phew, this feels better than i thought sungchan”, “yeah i know, nothing better than a tight warm hole to hug my big dick”. yn now went up and down, making sure to always go all the way up to the tip and then slamming himself back down, balls deep. sungchan, desperate for release and more satisfaction, started to meet yn’s thrusts, smacking and wet sounds reverberating throughout the whole room. yn, now laying on the bed face down, was moaning in ecstasy, feeling how deep sungchan was capable to reach with his dick, “fuck you make me feel so good yn” sungchan purred along with grunts and pants. “why don’t you become my toy” he cheerfully asked, his dick jabbing at yn’s obliterated hole constantly, “i won’t be able… to handle that fucking cock” yn uttered, drool coming out of his mouth.

“don’t worry, you just need to practice, we will have a lot of time for that”. yn’s ass bounced every time the other made a powerful thrust that even made the bed creak a little. sungchan being cocky about his big frame he lifted the bottom from behind, folding him in half in an attempt to go even deeper, “cum with my yn please” sungchand murmured on his ear, his hot breath tickling his neck. but yn wasn’t able to comply to sungchan’s request, shortly after he resumed his thrusts yn came hands free, he couldn’t hold anymore the constant abuse his sweet spot was suffering, “i-i’m so so..rry” yn pled, “i’ll make it up to you next time sung.. chann…”, sungchan feeling disappointed threw him towards the bed, “of course you have to, but as a punishment i would be using you all night”.

the whole night went by sungchan using his strength and big dick to whore yn out to his pleasure, something about yn having a way smaller frame than him but so capable of taking his whole length send sungchan into a frenzy, he was the perfect candidate to be his personal fleshlight, “finally a toy that won’t break so easily… yet” and almost evil smirk forming in his face. loads and loads of cum oozing out of yn, sungchan wasn’t only blessed with a big dick but also with huge balls that can apparently make a lot of cum, that’s what yn thinks. sungchan pulls out with a pop sound, his cock semi-hard leaking with the white liquid, “there’s nothing left” he whips out his dick trying to clean it of the liquid, then he uses his hand to clean the remains and made yn lick them, he licks them as if he was sucking sungchan’s dick, “good boy” he praised, “here, have a treat” he guided the head of his cock towards yn’s mouth, just suck the tip, you can suck the shaft later in another session”. yn sucked on it like a lollipop, making sure to make eye contact with sungchan, he looked majestic, his toned muscles glistening with sweat, his hands went up caressing every ab and pinching his nipples. sungchan grunted in pleasure, “shhhhit… so good”. at the end they both fell asleep with sungchan being the big spoon so yn could cockwarm him until they had to wake up and record the vacation vlog.

[leyavo]

Kyle Garrick secretly dating Johnny’s older sister and the only reason he can’t tell him is because you want to tell him face to face. But they’re all on an op that’s taking longer than planned.

He met you when you came to help look after Johnny whilst he was doing rehabilitation. You stayed in the shared residential house on base and spent a lot of time with Kyle whilst Johnny was sleeping or training. He made sure you were looking after yourself and he unknowingly started to feel more.

So Kyle’s trying not to wince as Johnny complains about you dating a feckin’ Brit and how you’ll ruin the bloodline.

A few well shot photos that don’t show his face on Instagram and Johnny’s trying to figure out who it is in the back ground of the picture. Or the hand holding yours in another one. A scar on the back of said man’s arm, scarily similar to Kyle’s but it’s on the wrong side (picture’s mirrored which Johnny doesn’t realise).

“Baby, baby. He’s a grown man for feck sake.”

“Lass is dating some younger toy boy, won’t last a minute back home.”

Johnny telling Kyle of all the little things he’s going to do to the lad when he meets him (which is as soon as he gets home, there’s a big dinner his Mam’s planned for welcoming him into the home). “gonna flick him with some holy water as soon as he walks in.”

They finish their op and Johnny’s surprised to see you waiting for him back at base. Wrong! You’re waiting for Kyle and ready to tell your little brother everything.

Kyle’s fingers are twitching by his side, he doesn’t want you to do this on your own. So his arm slips around your shoulders and he tucks you closer.

“Jojo,” you begin (childhood nickname, your youngest sister not being able to say his name and it stuck), “I wanted to be the one to tell you about me and Kyle,” you said, your hand coming to rest on Kyle’s chest.

Johnny’s brow raises and it’s like a switch has flipped. He’s noticing everything, the little cross around Kyle’s neck is similar to yours. That was Kyle’s bloody arm and scar. And he’s been moaning about him for weeks.

The flicker in his jaw making you retreat from Kyle. “Jo-”

“How long?” He says oddly calm, his gaze darting between you and Kyle.

“On and off since I left the res’ house, we weren’t sure how’d it go. Wanted to be sure.”

“You sneaky bastard,” Johnny chuckles, shoving Kyle. “Don’ think I’m gonna go easy on ya pal.”

“Wanted to tell you mate, but she wanted to tell you in person,” Kyle said, hand clutching yours. You smiled up at him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Better get a move on, can’t be late for dinner,” Johnny says, grinning mischievously and walking ahead.

Kyle leans down, “didn’t go so bad, baby,” he whispered in your ear, his lips tracing your cheek before he kissed you.

“Ky we’ve got an eight drive with him, just make sure you’re wearing your seatbelt.”

Eight hours drive and dinner with your family. Not for the faint hearted. Kyle hoped he wouldn’t be getting anything Johnny had told him before that he was going to do.

(Don’t know if this has been done before)

[sparklystarrrr]

Ignition Under My Touch

Synopsis: Idia finds himself a bit jealous at the amount of attention you're getting on your recent vacation post

Contains: Idia S. x Fem! Reader, sensual scenes (nothing NSFW), flirting, a bit of a Dom!Reader but mostly Dom!Idia, lots of nicknames(pretty boy, pretty girl, baby, ect.), minimal clothing removal, bikini/vacation pics, some cursing, possessive Idia, body descriptions, consensual video/picture taking, groping

It was a simple ping of the phone that attracted the fire-haired boys attention. You, his girlfriend, sat in his bed on your phone, lazily staring at the screen which displayed a plethora of comments likes and dms from random people. Comments and dms varied from simply complimenting the bikini or your looks, to flirtier things like praising your body and asking for your number. Seeing these random people flooding your comments like leeches made him feel something in his gut that he was rather unfamiliar with. He grumbled at the giggle leaving your glossy lips while reading the comments aloud. It got exceedingly harder to focus on the boss fight panned out over his multiple monitors at his desk. That itchy, heavy feeling grabbed at his body and possessed it.

"(y/n), don't entertain those creeps..." He grumbled while shutting down the game on his computer and spinning his chair around to face you. Your tank top hugged each and every curve and piece of fat on your torso. Your shorts were so loose on your hips he saw the band of your panties peaking out. It pulled him in like a sailor to a siren's song. Your sweet voice added fire to the flame creeping up in his heart."Don't worry pretty boy, they know who I belong to~" You cooed. Twisting your body to face him, you raise your brow. The young man stood up with his head tilted slightly down causing a shadow over his glowing yellow eyes. His flaming hair grew furious and the tips became a magenta pink.

"What's wrong baby?" You spoke worriedly at his sudden change in demeanor."Nothing." He sat down uncharacteristically close to you on the bed where you laid in wait for him. His slender pale hands grabbed your phone which had your post still fully displayed for him. In the pictures, the two of you had gone on a trip to the Hero's Island beaches where it had been incredibly sunny and hot so obviously you wore bathing suits most of the time, but the one your body dawned in the post was his favorite by far. It was a black lace ensemble with small blue embroidered flowers on the top that cupped your breasts perfectly and small bottoms that were the same in design but had the prettiest little blue bows tied on the side. The way the bikini hugged every part of you perfectly was salivating. He was starting to understand why you were getting so much attention in this post, but he didn't let that stop his jealousy.

"I can see what these normies are talking about, but only I should be saying that..."He handed your phone back with shaky hands and looked at you through his wild blue flames. His hand crept closer to the fat of your thigh while your hands rested atop his, leading them to where you wanted."I know pretty boy, only my Idia can say that stuff~" It almost seemed like you were just teasing him to joke around, but he wasn't joking one bit. His cheeks flushed at your seductive words, you had him wrapped around your delicate fingers so tight. His chest heaved while tracing the moles scattered across the supple (s/c) skin of your thigh. The way your (e/c) eyes looked up at him through thick black lashes drew him in closer and increased his flaming desire. He had to show you how you were only his, along with all those creepy losers.

His hand went from hesitantly tracing your skin to gripping it, rubbing circles and moving to the fat of your hips concealed by loose shorts. Your knowing smirk only made him look away at the newfound shyness. Panicking a bit at you suddenly moving to sit up impossibly closer to him, he pulled his hand away. You smiled, moving up to his ear and grabbing his hand, placing it back on your hip,"Keep going Idia." It was as if it was a command. He followed your order eagerly, his touch growing more aggressive as he felt himself warming up and seeing your dominance over him waver and crack.

He grabbed your hips with both hands and slid you into his lap. His chest pressed against your own as he spoke a bit more confidently into your ear,"You're mine (y/n)." His voice was deep and clear as water to you. All he needed was that little mewl you squeaked out confirming his statement to get him going. His lips connected feverishly against your neck while his teeth grazed against it leaving behind bites and purple marks. Your hands wrapped tightly around his neck and pulled him closer at the sudden pleasure enveloping your body. His hands made their way to your waist under the fabric of your top while kissing up your neck and connecting your lips passionately. You felt your breath physically be taken away from you.

Pulling away to catch your breath, you look at him wide eyes. He lookes at you with a smirk and a needy look in his eyes while grabbing his phone and opening the camera app,"...Would you let me do this? Just a few pics... I wanna show those magicam idiots you're mine..." Idia had never been this bold before and honestly it surprised you, but at the same time it was just so sexy. Without a second thought you feverishly nodded your head yes and pulled him in closer by the top of his hoodie. Your fingers nimbly clasped the zipper and pulled it down revealing his stripped shirt that subtly showed his muscles. You tore the rest of the oversized hoodie off of his body and grabbed onto his bicep, pressing your slightly swollen lips against his.

His hands went back under your top, this time one was on your back to hold you in place while his other hand held his phone ready to take a picture of the two of you devouring each other's faces. He got the perfect angle where your practically melting into his body, chests against each other, lips connected by the glue of your love, and cleavage spilling out over your top. He dropped his phone to grasp your thin strap and pull it off your shoulder, revealing clear and glittering skin and a seductive white bra strap. His desire to pull off your shirt to feel you closer was so incredibly strong and he just couldn't resist. His hands grasped with unusual gentleness onto the bottom of your tank top and pulled it off you. He bit his lip. This was so much better than winning any boss fight. Staring at you in your white bra and hands gripping his biceps with that needy and flushed look, he heaved"Fuck..." Grabbing his phone once more, he pointed it at you"Lemme take a pic of you. Pose for me, pretty girl." His hands shook while capturing this sensual moment. The way your chest heaved and those little noises left your mouth made him feel like he was in paradise.

Following his previous action, you traced the top of his sweatpants, trailing your hands to the end of his own long-sleeved shirt. He stared at you wide eyed while his hair went completely pink. He wasn't expecting this out of you. You pulled his shirt off with ease and revealed his pale skin that rippled with soft muscles. You dipped your head down to his neck, leaving behind a trail of delicate purple splotches. His hand tangled in your hair while the other got busy playing with the small blue bow attached to your bra between your breasts. Your body pressed closer, moving his hand to cup your supple breast in his hand and giving it a generous squeeze. Next to his ear, your pitched whimper made him roll his head back"Shit pretty girl, keep doing that..." Little did you know, his fingers were busy on his phone recording each and every noise you made as a result of his hands and mouth.

When you pulled away to fill your lungs with air again, he tilted your head up with his fingers to capture the purple bruising and bite marks scattering your neck and shoulders. He pulled down both your bra straps to save the memory of your pure skin being decorated with his markings. He smiled at you as he finished making a secret album on his phone of all the pictures and videos of you"...You're really gonna post that stuff?" You asked quietly. His smile faltered a bit in shame, "I mean, I don't need to post it if ya don't want me to." You smiled at him and giggled softly,"Post it baby, show them I'm yours~" You say in a teasing tone while crawling off his lap, making sure to press your chest near his face to tease him further.

And with a quick peck on the lips you grab your tank top and slip it back on. "I'm gonna go grab some snacks for us, brb pretty boy!" After cheerfully closing the door, Idia turned into a red flushing mess. He stared at the door, then back at the sensual photos he collected from before. "Damn... that girl really is mine... yus!"He cheered silently to himself as he hit post on the pictures he selected. He bagged a baddie and she was all his to show off, mark up with his teeth, and rant about his nerdy interests to, what more could this man ask for!

Oooooo how scandalous of me to write this! I've been wanting to write something steamy recently sooo, here you go Idia fans!

(this is my first steamy post ever, pls be nice to me I'm just a princess)

[differenteagletragedy]

Part three of the one where Price is your neighbor and he falls in love with you but you already have an awful boyfriend :(

Here is PART ONE and here is PART TWO, thank yooou <3

John can't hold back his smile as he sits across from you in the little coffee shop where you brought him -- a quaint, cozy little place, with cute wicker chairs he'd half-worried he'd snap in half when he sat down.

"What?" you ask him, your own smile brightening your pretty features.

"Nothing," he replies, still grinning softly. Of course it's not nothing -- it's everything, seeing you smile just for him. He imagines laying all his cards out for you, telling you to leave the worthless man living with you and to be with him instead, but the timing isn't right, so instead he points a finger at your drink, saying, "Just never seen a coffee look quite like that."

You look down at your drink, an iced coffee that's more white than black, with flavored syrup along the side and whipped cream on top, and John swears he sees a little bit of red pop up on your cheeks as you shrug.

"I just like it sweet," you tell him. "Aiden makes fun of me for it too."

His jaw clenches at the mention of the boyfriend, and he leans in just a little bit closer over the small table, careful not to make the moment too intense while still making sure you hear him.

"Not making fun of you, sweetheart," he says quietly. "I think it's ... cute."

Your eyes light up at the tiny compliment, and you giggle, a beautiful sound that John is sure he could become addicted to.

"'Cute'?" you repeat, raising an eyebrow playfully. There's a bit of teasing in your tone, and if he didn't know better, he'd think you were flirting. "I never thought I'd hear you describe something as 'cute.'"

"And why not?" he asks, pretending to be indignant. "What's wrong with me finding it cute?"

"No problem with you finding it cute, it's just ... " she trails off, gesturing at him, then says, "Big tough strong army man, you know? You've just never struck me as, I don't know. A connoisseur of cute."

God, you're adorable. So much that John can't help but lean in a little further, his hands coming to circle his own cup of coffee.

"Lot of things you don't know about me, love."

If John had it bad for you before, he's completely gone after that coffee date -- because that's precisely what it felt like, a date. The boyfriend topic didn't come up again, and instead you talked everything else. You told him all about your job, and he told you a little about his. You shared little tidbits of your life, the people in it and the things you filled it with, and he mentally took note of everything, cataloging it all away.

Slowly and surely, he's building a little secret chamber in his mind, or maybe his heart, all full of you.

Unfortunately, there's only so long a friendly neighbor coffee run can last, and all too soon, he's opening the door of the shop for you and following behind you as you lead the way back to your car. He opens the car door for you as well, but on impulse, just before you climb in, he stops you with a gentle hand on your elbow.

"I'd like to show you something," he says softly. "Can I?"

Soon, he's the one behind the wheel of your car, with you seated next to him, looking out the window curiously as he passes the town limits.

"You promise you're not kidnapping me?" you ask, looking over to him with a playful smirk that has his hand flexing where it rests on the gear shift, fighting the urge to reach out and rest it on your thigh instead.

He forces a tight smile, glancing at you once more before focusing back on the road, and replies, "If I were kidnapping you, pet, you'd bloody well know it."

There's that giggle again, music to his ears, and he feels a rush of pride at knowing you trust him enough not to be scared of him. He knows he's an imposing man, but he'd sooner die than hurt you, and he's pleased to know that, at least on some level, you recognize that.

It doesn't take long for John to reach his destination, and when he parks by the road, you look out the window for a moment, then back to him, a puzzled expression on your face.

He smiles softly and nods to the door, gesturing for you to get out. When you do, he meets you in front of the car, offering his arm out to you, which you take. Feeling your delicate hand holding onto him, he guides you to the small hillside by the road where he'd pulled off.

"You wanted to show me ... grass," you said. "I gotta tell you, John, this isn't really inspiring me to want to hang out with you more."

He chuckles, starting up the little hill, and tells you, "The thing about hills is that there's something on the other side, yeah? Something you can't see, but if you just have a little bit of faith ..."

He trails off, watching your face as you get to the top of the hill. He sees you positively beam when you see the field of wildflowers below, hidden from the road by the higher ground of the hill.

"John!" you exclaim, finally looking up at him. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Well, love, I may not be a ... what did you call it? A 'connoisseur of cute.' But I do know a thing or two about appreciating something beautiful."

It's a line, and he knows it. This whole thing, driving you out to this field full of pretty flowers -- a place he'd found by accident one difficult night when he'd gone for a long walk because he couldn't sit still in his apartment without going mad -- is a move, pure and simple. But when your smile softens and you shift your body to face his, it feels like it's working.

Just for a moment, he lets his eyes fall down to your lips, full and smooth and positively biteable, and in that moment, your hand falls from his arm, only to tentatively slide up to his shoulder. His own hands come to your waist, high enough to be polite but firm enough that his intentions are clear.

He wants you. Desperately, completely. And now, he can see that at least part of you wants him too, boyfriend or not.

"John, I ..." you sigh, your gaze dropping down to his chest, and he feels your hand gently fisting the fabric of his jacket. "I can't."

"You can," he argues softly, his voice a low murmur. "You only have to do it."

You meet his eyes again, and he can see the turmoil there. He's in deep enough with you now that if he thought it was best for you, he'd drop it, but he knows, from the things you've told him and from his own instincts, that you're scared. And he wants you to be brave.

John waits, his grip on you steady. There's a pull between you, one he feels so strongly he'd almost swear he could reach out and grab it. He tries to let you begin to get used to being with him like this, the feel of his strong, solid hands and the weight of his gaze. He wants you to know how good it could feel, with him.

And you're almost there, he can see it. The pull ropes you in, makes you take a small step forward so that there's just a little bit of space between your bodies and you have to tilt your head back just to keep looking at him. A cold breeze blows by, and the sweet smell from the flowers circles around you.

A perfect moment that's interrupted by the sharp sound of your phone ringing in your pocket.

Just like that, you step back, your hands dropping to your sides, and before John knows it, you're on the phone with your boyfriend, telling him you'll be home soon, that everything is fine, that you're sorry you were gone for so long.

Without a word, he offers you his arm again when you hang up the phone, and you take it, but the earlier warmth is gone. Your touch is hesitant again, and it's almost enough to make him wish he'd never brought you here in the first place.

It might have been easier, to continue on without knowing for a fact that something in you, some part, however small, feels for him what he feels for you. But as soon as the notion crosses his mind, it's out again -- it may be harder now, feeling you pull back after being so close, but now he knows he has something to fight for.

The ride back to your shared apartment building is silent, for the most part. As he pulls your car into your parking space, you say something so faint he barely hears it.

"I'm sorry."

It's a wild thing to say, because he knows you have nothing to be sorry about. His mind races with possible responses, everything from pulling you into his lap and kissing you, slow and deep, just how he was about to by that picturesque field before the phone call ruined it all to explaining to you in detail just how perfect he thinks you are, just how impossible it is for him to think that you've done anything wrong.

But he knows that, in just a moment, you're going to be walking back into your apartment -- the home you share with another man. A man who gets to kiss you like that, no matter how little he deserves it. It's an infuriating thought. A poisonous one.

So instead, he taps the wheel and says, "Steering's off."

".... huh?"

He flashes you a tight-lipped smile, turning off the ignition.

"Pulls to the left a bit. You don't notice it?"

"Oh ... yeah, I've noticed it. But I just ... I don't know, I just deal with it," you tell him.

Of course you do.

"We'll have a look at it soon, all right?" he says. "I don't like the thought of you on the road with it like that. Need to keep that pretty little head of yours safe, don't we now?"

"John ..." you begin, and he knows by your tone, along with a brief flash of pain in your eyes, that you're about to touch on more than just his protective streak.

But again, your phone rings, and whatever dregs of magic that were left from the moment out there in the flowers vanish completely.

"Best not keep him waiting, love," he says softly, before getting out of your car and walking around to open your door for you.

When he does, your phone is still ringing in your hand, and you step out of the car, brows furrowed and frowning as you gaze up at him.

"In you get," he murmurs, nodding towards the building.

"Aren't you coming?"

"Not quite yet," he answers, feeling the tension in his shoulders coil with every ring of your phone. "You go on, and I'll see you around, yeah?"

You nod, taking your keys as he holds them out for you, and as you turn to walk towards the entrance, he hears you answer the phone with more apologies for being gone so long.

John, meanwhile, turns and starts walking. A quick walk, purposeful in that it helps him to think and to calm him down, not in that he has any particular place to go.

It's been so long since someone has gotten under his skin the way you have, and after today, he knows that you've burrowed deep, taking root in him. It's exhilarating and nerve-wracking and infuriating, and it tests him. He's nothing if not controlled, but you, and the situation, are wearing at him in the sweetest, most excruciating way.

Falling for you like this, with you wrapped up in a man you feel like you can't get away from, is a torturous kind of bliss.

A vibration in his pocket pulls him from his thoughts, and he ignores it, his mind too full of the memory of you by the flowers, the feeling of your waist under his hands. When it vibrates again, he sighs, pulling his phone out.

There, he sees two texts from you. The first reads "wanna do laundry tomorrow?", and the second is just a series of emojis going through the events of the day: a tire, a coffee cup, several flowers and a car, ending with a heart.

It's ... so goofy. But it's endearing too, and he can't help but smile.

"Tomorrow is good," he types back in response, then he hesitates with his thumb over the "send" button. He takes a breath, then fiddles with his phone for a moment until he finds the emojis so he can add a heart to his as well.

He knows he's acting like a lovesick boy, but as he turns and walks back home, an extra spring in his step and the smile still on his face, he can't bring himself to care. So much of his life is about being strong and in charge, fearless and powerful. It feels good to allow himself this small indulgence in the privacy of his own mind.

John also knows that you're not quite there with him yet. You're on a precipice, it seems, and while he knows without a doubt that he'll catch you when you jump, you're still too scared to make the leap.

A moment ago, he may have almost considered giving up. But now, with plans for tomorrow and the faint feel of your body imprinted on his hands, he's ready to keep fighting.

[rafeovermorals]

CRUSH - RAFE CAMERON PT. 2

he looks like he works with his hands, and smells like marlboro reds it makes me so, uh, and i can’t get enough of it

pt. 1

content: inspired on the song crush by ethel cain. mechanic!rafe au. reader isn’t from obx but she would be considered more kook. includes smut, fingering, oral (m recieving), p in v, creampie, mean!rafe, degrading, age gap (reader is eighteen), MINORS DNI!!!!!

word count: 2.5k

a/n: this is the last part to this mini series (at least for now)! but next i want to work on a dbf!rafe series or a vampire!rafe series. if anyone is interested in either one of those stayed tuned xo

“come by the shop tomorrow, it’s time for you to pay up.”

the call ended with a click. no goodbye, no time to meet. rafe didn’t bother to ask you, no, he told you.

he didn’t feel like he had to, he knew you would show up. you were the type to listen to your elders.

you laid in bed with disbelief, fingers still coated in your slick post orgasm. it didn’t take you long to drift off thinking about him— the raspiness in his voice, his dirty words repeating back in your head,

“do you normally get off on strangers talkin’ to you like this, hm? lettin’ them cum to your sweet lil’ voice over the phone?”

you stirred in your sleep as you dreamt of him. rafe was rough around the edges with eyes of a predator— the type that should tell you to run— yet you wanted more.

maybe that’s why he picked you. the perfect prey, too sweet and dumb for her own good.

rafe was nothing like the boys back home. your last boyfriend was a gentleman, clean cut and charming, but he was probably just as clueless as you. he wouldn’t know the last thing about changing out a tire, and certainly didn’t know how to please you the way rafe just had.

just from your short encounters with him, you could tell he had experience well beyond your years. he came from a different world, one that consisted of labor intensive, twelve hour work days— while you had just finished high school, barely ever lifting a finger of your own.

you were restless until the sun came up.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thankfully, today your alarm did wake you up, and you had plenty of time to get ready.

you wore your favorite yellow babydoll dress for the occasion, the one with dainty frills at the skirt that paired perfectly with your brown cowgirl boots. you had matching bows in your hair, clipped at the end of two braided pieces in the front while the rest of draped past your shoulders.

you wanted to look extra pretty for rafe since he caught you so off guard the day before, though you hoped it didn’t look too obvious

butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you went up to the rusted doors of his shop, business card folded in hand.

‘Cameron’s Auto and Body Repair’ was spelt on the glass in aged, faded lettering surrounded by dilapidated brick. you began to wonder how long he’d been there for considering the buildings clear wear and tear, which then led you to question— how old was he?

you hadn’t thought to ask for his age, or really anything else beyond what was on the business card. guess you weren’t too worried about that when he was helping you cum last night.

you walked in, a bell ringing as you did so. even with multiple cars in the lot, the shop itself was empty of customers. there was one person propped up against the checkout register, scrolling on his phone until you spoke, “excuse me?”

“are y’ pickin’ up or droppin’ o— oh.“

his eyes tore away from the screen, bored expression quickly leaving his face as his gaze landed on you. he was suddenly interested, straightening his back and pushing his device off to the side. “sorry about that, how can i help you?”

you let out a giggle at his silliness, standing across from him behind the counter. you would assume he’s close in age with you based on his appearance— youthful face and golden locks peaking from his hat. you saw he had a name tag printed to his coveralls, jj.

“hi, i’m just here to make a payment, actually.”

he stared at you for a bit, eyebrows knitted and chin rested his hand. “and you’re sure you’ve been here before? i would’ve remembered a cute face like yours.”

a blush crept to your cheeks, shaking your head. “no, but i did have some work done yesterday.”

he fumbled through the visitor log, briefly scanning the pages of signatures. “hmm, and what’s your name?”

you weren’t sure if he was asking to actually check or just wanted to know for himself— probably the latter. “i don’t think it’ll be there but it’s-“

you stopped at the sound of a loud slam, finding the source to be rafe standing on the other side of the room. your breath hitched, seeing his eyes bore into you. he was not amused, you could tell.

“flirtin’ with our customers again, maybank?”

jj looked like he was caught red handed, swallowing in his throat. “umm, no, she uh— said she had an invoice and needed to pay. that’s all.” he responded nervously, looking at you with a plea to back his word.

“yes, i wasn’t sure where to go.. i just got here.”

jj flickered between the two of you as the tension was rising in the air. sure, his boss was a jackass, but he could tell he was missing something.

rafe hummed, gesturing his head to the door behind him with arms crossed over his chest. “you can come with me. and jj, go to fuckin’ lunch.”

you gave the younger boy a small smile. you could tell he wanted to speak up— maybe stop god knows whatever was about to happen— but he held his tongue. rafe didn’t take back talk very well, something you would learn soon.

you followed in rafe’s direction where he led you past the bay and into his office. it was a tiny space, smelled of oil and gasoline with just enough room for a few file cabinets. it also had a desk, scattered with various papers and a few tools that weren’t put away.

“sit.” he referred to the worn chair in front of him, leaning on the edge of his wooden desk.

he was wearing a tank top, what used to be white but was now brown from being covered in dirt. it had ripped at the seams from its overuse, making it more like a scrap of fabric. dusted blue jeans hung low on his hips with a belt, his grease stained arms flexing at his side as he looked down at you.

you felt yourself getting warm just by looking at him.

“i brought your payment, sir.”

he smirked at your words, raising a brow as he waited and watched you.

you reached into the cup of your bra, feeling around until you pulled out a wad of cash that you had stuck there earlier. you unrolled the paper bills, handing it over to him.

he counted it out with a low chuckle. “sixty dollars. you think that’s how much i’m worth, sweetheart?” he teased.

you turned red, fiddling with your bracelet from anxious habit. “i wasn’t sure how much something like that costed, ‘s all.”

“i already told y’that i don’t want your money.” he stood up, setting the cash aside. “i have other ways that i would prefer you to pay me back.”

he towered over you, filling in the compressed space. you were eye level with his crotch, the print of his cock made itself known to you through his pants. you could smell him with his proximity— a blend of sweat and cigarettes and musk that made your head spin.

“get on your knees, darlin’.” he told you with that thick, honey southern drawl.

for a moment he took you by surprise, but you didn’t hesitate to slide off the chair and onto the tile floor in front of his feet. you shouldn’t want this. you should want a nice boy, someone your father would approve of, or at the very least take you on a date before he fucked you. yet here you were, cock desperate and mouth agape— practically begging for it.

he started to take off his gloves. “thought you would’ve texted me when you were on the way, i could’ve washed up f’you.”

“i meant to.. i must’ve forgot.”

“it’s okay, sweetheart.” his voice was smooth, but condescending. he began to work his belt free, slow and deliberate as he held eye contact with you. “now you’re just gonna have to suck me clean.”

he tugs his jeans down with his boxers, cock springing out with authority. you nearly whimper at the sight, taken aback.

he was more than just big— he was longer and thicker than you imagined— the weight heavy in your hand has you held it. his tip was flushed, a needy pink that was inviting you in.

your lips brushed the head, giving him a kiss at its slit. he let out a restrained grunt, bringing a hand to your head and grasping at the scalp. “not in the mood for teasing, baby.”

your tongue grazed his shaft, licking up from the base until he directed himself into your mouth. he tasted like a hard days work, sweat and salty precum whelming your tastebuds.

you pushed deeper for more, bracing your free hand on his thigh for support. he guides you, inch by inch into until he hit the back of your throat. you choke, pulling away.

“fuck,” you gasp out, jerking your wrist on his length while you catch your breath. he weaved his fingers through your hair, giving it a tug.

you take him in again, bobbing at a steady pace— not too far or fast— but just right.

he held his other hand on the corner of a cabinet, keeping his balance while you swirl your tongue around the tip.

“you like the taste of dirty cock in your mouth, sweetheart? i’m sure y’daddy’s real proud of you, huh?”

you moaned in response, making him buck his hips further. you could feel his legs trembling as he fucked your mouth, signaling that he was close. you relaxed your throat, ready to take his load.

but he stopped, releasing his hold on you and taking you off.

his once blue eyes were black, dark with lust and something almost evil.

“not finished with you yet, sweetheart. think i deserve a little more after that stunt you pulled out there.”

“w-what- what do you mean?” you asked, your voice soft and uneasy. you could hardly speak, let alone think.

he tisked, snatching you by the arm to get you on your feet before bending you over and pressing you down to the desk. he cleared it off with one smooth motion, stacks of paper and metal clanks hitting the floor.

“wanna act stupid now? throwin’ yourself at my employee’s, that’s what.” he growled, hands riding up your dress and grabbing at your ass. you stifled a whine as he kneaded the flesh, thumbs digging into your skin.

heat radiated off of both of you, his chest twice your size folded against your back, your cheek smushed to the wood.

“it wasn’t- ah- like that.” you breathe out as his fingers find your panties, swiping over your clothed clit.

“so what was it like then? hmm?” he nudged his knee between your thighs, parting your legs for better access. he rubbed tedious circles, your arousal soaking through the cotton.

“i came here for you.. just you.” you answered in a moan.

“just me.” he agreed, tugging off your panties and tucking them into his pocket. he slipped his middle finger past your folds, sinking into your cunt.

“shouldn’t even be stretchin’ you out first, think you did enough of that when i called you.”

he curled the digit, hooking and flicking it inside you in a spot that makes your knees buckle underneath him. you bite down on a lip to silence yourself.

rafe was impatient. he’d already had a bad day— behind on some repair that should’ve been finished weeks ago— then his lazy ass staff had the audacity to make a move on you. he needed you now.

maybe if he was in a better mood he would’ve taken care of you first, given you an orgasm or two with his mouth— but he didn’t think you deserved that— not today at least.

his cock wedged into your entrance, no mercy with a full thrust. you winced, crying out as he rocked into you, the mix of your spit and slick still not enough to relieve the pain of his girth. you were so tight, your walls gripping his cock as he fucked himself into you.

“such a good girl, takin’ me so well.”

the burn eventually wore off, his thrusts that started off slow began to speed up. you were still squeezing around him, splitting you open farther than you had been before.

your search along the desk for something to grab, getting him to hold both your wrists behind your back. you balled your hands into a fist, your whimpers getting louder as he picked up the pressure. harder, controlled.

he was slamming into you now, the slaps of his thighs meeting yours while he grunted into your ear. “look so fuckin’ pretty today, darlin’, makes me wanna put my babies in you.”

you couldn’t reply, he knew it too. you just had to lay there and let him use you— for pay back.

this was exactly what he wanted. your pussy was so wet and warm, practically untouched. it was as if you were created for him.

you clenched around his cock, like an animal in heat you found yourself matching his movements, your body accepting its purpose.

you were cock drunk, words inaudible as the legs of the desk shifted with each forceful thrust. he was pounding into you hungrily, both of your faces screwing up in pleasure.

he knew he grazed that sweet spot in your walls when you fluttered around his length, stickiness pooling at the base of his cock.

“wanna watch you cum on my cock.” he grumbles, releasing your wrists as he pulls away, flipping you over to be face to face.

he picked up where he left off, plunging into you as he met your hips with sloppy, frantic thrusts. you were so weak by that point he had to hold your legs up, toes curling when his tip connected with your cervix.

“gonna cum- please, rafe- fuck, right there.” you were a babbling mess, mewling like a kitten.

he brought one hand to your mouth. stuffing his fingers in to shush you like a pacifier. his other hand went to your swollen clit, rubbing the sensitive bud to help get to your climax.

he coaxed you through it. “cmon, just like that. i know you’re almost there, sweetheart.”

he rammed into you a few more times, watching his bulge outline your little tummy as you took him.

your core eventually snaps, releasing the flood as you squirm and shake— too much to bare.

“too much! too much!”

“nuh uh. be a big girl, and take it.”

he started to stutter, eventually spilling his load inside of you. your cunt pulsated as you felt him fill you up, like it was trying to collect all of his seed.

rafe moved aside, zipping up his jeans while you flattened your dress. he gave you a kiss on the cheek, like one you would give to a child, patting it afterwards in approval.

“now we’re even.”

[aomiiine]

I just read your works and god you write Caleb so well😫 So..with all due respect,my head is filled with Caleb doing..hole inspection after a frat party because duhhh

It’s a crime that I responded to this so soo late but I come w a peace offering ☝🏼AND thank you so much for loving the way I write Caleb!! it means a lot w how reluctant I am to write ab him nowadays 🫶🏼 🫶🏼 newayyss, here’s my long awaited 2 cents on fratboy!caleb <3

frat boy! caleb, pussy inspection?, jealous caleb, banter, sweaty, messy & uncoordinated pussy fingering in the car🧍🏻‍♀️ ‘pip-squeak’ once!!! wc. 733 turned out longer than expected but that’s okay :’)

A frat party.

Nothing special. Just same old loud music and even louder people. Caleb had no idea why you insisted on going to one of these parties with him. Sure, he came here often, but only because he was practically lured out to it by his mates who covered it up as an ‘emergency’.

so now, Caleb’s forced to watch you socialise around with these vultures. As much as he wanted to snatch every drink you gulped, he knew better than you restrain you of your own fun—and suffer being accused to be a hypocrite by you later.

Minutes passed and yet he stood as still as a rock at one of the many corners of the room, arms crossed and jaw clenched tight. His eyes were sharp and intent on staring at you from afar, holding a conversation with a few other guys. Socialising. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Except, it was the type of ‘socialising’ he loathed to see you doing—dating or not.

and when the heat burned too hot, his jealousy spilled from it’s pot—overflowing.

“Getting with someone else right in front of me, huh? Not bad, pip-squeak,” Caleb spat, uttering the ever-so-endearing name he used for you in such a condescending manner that it made you shiver.

His wandering hands between your collided bodies in the cramp space of his car only made it harder for you to protest, every word dying in your throat and changed to a pathetic mewl or moan that just spurred him on his possessive streak.

“I barely knew the damn guy, Caleb,” you whined, hand held on his shoulder drifting down to his firm bicep in the dark of the vehicle. His big hands mauling on your thighs made you squirm further, frustration at his control over your body that refrained you from shifting on his lap in the position you wanted.

“Oh and he definitely wants to get to know you though. You and dirty panties,” he retorted with a humourless scoff, curling his fingers beneath your crotch to cup your sex, insistently delving past the thin fabric of the damp panties you wore. Your brows furrow at the slightest show of a smirk on his lips, knowing he could feel your arousal seep through and smear the pads of his digits already.

“Don’t say a fucking thing,” you warned, tightening your grip on his muscular upper arm, nails burying crescent-shaped indents on his skin.

“What? Like you’re gonna do shit to stop me with that drooling cunt,” Calen refuted, hooded eyes looking down at you, finding your threat as feeble as a kitten’s hiss.

Before you could open your mouth to return his wit with your own, he decided slide your panties to the side, a finger finding your slit with ease before sinking it deep within your depth without warning. A second finger followed suit, stroking your fluttering walls immediately after entering.

The sudden invasion made your breath hitch, lips parting open in a silent moan then crying out his name in a whine that sounded little like complaint. Your thighs seized, muscles flexing and quivering in an effort to stay kneeling on the carseat over one of his thighs.

caleb’s fingers were relentless, plunging in and out of your warm channel languidly. His movements were effortless, but so damn effective still. And as if he hadn’t caught you by surprise enough, his thumb snuck near between your parted folds, finding your clit and adding just enough pressure on the sensitive bud to make you get louder, uncoordinated, needy like he wants you to be.

“Don’t be tease—fuck me proper,” you mumbled between pants, eyes narrowing at the careless way his fingers were moving inside your wet pussy, eager to suck him further inside to the spongy spot that he could’ve reached so easily if he weren’t so damn sloppy.

“Nah, I’ll do that later.. Need to make myself sure this pussy belongs to me first.” Caleb’s reply only annoyed you further, leaning in to him and grinding your hips in vain to plea for his mercy. But he remained firm, spreading your pussy open until you hissed at the burn of the stretch, his thumb circling and flicking on your swollen clit repeatedly.

When recalling his words, you realised he truly was serious with inspecting your depths all over again. Just to assure himself—and you especially.