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lalunanymph · 2 months ago

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KILLSHOT

sypnosis when fate gives you back your supposedly “dead” foster childhood bestfriend who is now the colonel of one of the most powerful fleets in the world, what else is there to do but fuck him right in the interrogation room?

warnings interrogation, caleb is mean for like 0.24848 seconds cause lbr he is a puppy of a man, drugging, drugged sex, improper use of evol, collaring, mutual pining, biting, marking, betrayal, mindfuck, injuries, mentions of blood, psychological warfare, seduction, fighting, hurt and comfort, angst, potential spoilers for “farspace deprivation” and “farspace bloomfall”, dark themes, hate sex, cervix fucking, fingers in mouth, sucking on gloved fingers, gunplay, degradation, undertones of Dom/sub, oral sex, kink, bratting, disciplining, after effects of interrogations, unprotected sex, ceiling sex, grieving, spoilers for chapter 4, mentions of death, aftercare, cuddling, guilt, repressed emotions, 18+

dawn says caleb girlies RISE UP oh we are eating so good our man is back home and you KNOW i had to write about his hot new glowup in that slutty colonel outfit,...

Yet again, you’re in the thick of trouble.

They said curiosity killed the cat, and this time, you had little doubt of coming out alive. But, it can hardly be classified as your fault.

It was a stupid lead. A blind coordinate Nero sent to you, leading you to stumble right into the heart of a military operation unauthorized. In the world of bureaucracy and red tape, it’s as good as being dead.

Now, you’re being led away, bound and blindfolded with no one to blame but yourself for your shitty luck and foresight.

Whoever is leading you to your certain death stops in his tracks, nudging you into a cool room. You’re made to sit on a hard chair, and within seconds, your wrists are untied only to be bound again to the chair’s arms and something hard and circular is snapped onto your neck.

“Unh—” you gasp when you hear the soft whir of the device starting. A sudden pressure wraps around your body, holding you back from resonating. Without your Evol, you’re defenceless and whoever has captured you knows it.

“Don’t resist.”

A cold voice pierces the silence. You stop squirming and peel your ears.

“W-who’s there?” You curse the stutter in your question, the trembling underlying your show of courage.

A Hunter resists and never gives up intel easily. Evasion Interrogation Class 101. You weren’t going to cave without a fight.

The slow approach of boots on the hard floor thumps like the blood rushing through your ears. You tense, feeling the other person’s presence before you.

Light floods your senses, and your eyes pry open when the blindfold is whipped off your face. You blink, trying to focus on the dark spot standing right in front of you. The furrow of his brow is the first thing you notice, then those piercing violet eyes.

No…

“Hey… Pipsqueak.”

Your blood turns to ice in your veins, fear shooting up your spine.

It can’t be… you struggle to make sense of what you’re seeing, feeling your stomach dropping heavily right into the soles of your Hunter boots. It can’t…

You mourned him. You watched your entire family—your world—go up in flames.

This stranger wearing his face sits down in front of you, legs spreading with ease under the stretch of his starched white pants. He’s in a decorated jacket, one you’ve never seen him wear before. It’s like the memory of all that you once knew of Caleb is corrupted with a dark veneer, giving way to this tainted version sitting before you with barely any emotion in his eyes.

The familiar slope of his features, the same ones you’ve seen throughout the years, changing and growing, as intimate to you as your own breath, is cold and distant.

Warm sunny days, the smell of freshly cut grass, a hand holding yours through the rain…

It disappears in a flash of lightning, the dark clouds rolling behind him like the dread churning right in your gut.

Your voice is soft, fringed with disbelief, as the shock renders you immobile to the chair.

“What?” He quips, and a shadow of his old smile appears. But, where there was once familiarity, now there only exists the ruins of everything you held dear.

“Don’t you recognize me?”

It’s as if he’s goading you.

He picks up an apple from the centerpiece on the table next to the chair he has you strapped in, and holds it in his hand like it would give him all the answers in the world. His pensive gaze, those once wondrous violet eyes catching the last of the sun’s rays as it disappeared over a river, cloud over with an undeniable oppression.

He can’t even look at you properly.

“Did you honestly think I would always be the kind-hearted boy from your childhood?”

Like a horror show unfolding, he lifts his gaze, looking right into your depths, as the snap of the apple's skin gives way to the tension of his jaws. A bit of its juice dribbles onto his lower lip, and you force yourself to tear your eyes away, needing to retain your wits. Caleb sets the fruit down, chewing thoughtfully, before lifting it to your lips.

“Eat,” he murmurs softly, a shadow of his old self on the tired terrain of his face. “You must be starving.”

The sweet boy from your past can’t be coincided with this cold man right in front of you. Where you would’ve leapt at the opportunity to taste any dish from the labor of his kind hands, you fear this forbidden bite would poison you the second his tainted fruit touched your lips.

Turning your head away, you glare at the rain-slicked windows, trying to hide the sting in your eyes.

Caleb, knowing how stubborn you can be, sighs and drops his olive branch offering.

“Fine.” His voice is flat. Unemotional. “Let’s get to the bottom of things, then.”

He stands, and you feel a fissure of fear opening in your chest when he retrieves his baton, removing his military cap and tossing it onto the table.

“Why’re you here?”

You refuse to open your mouth, glaring at him. Caleb shakes his head.

“You always have to make things so hard for me, don’t you, Pipsqueak?” He murmurs and steps closer to you, the fire in his violet gaze crackling. “You’ve always been insufferable since we were kids. Now—” he frowns. “—why are you here? And how did you find this place?”

You find your voice, croaking out, “I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to? Are you sure?” He cuts you off coldly. Caleb straightens and adjusts his gloves. There’s a hint of a smile on his face, though it’s corrupted by the detachment oozing from his suddenly frosty demeanour. “You expect me to believe that? That you just stumbled into the scene like a stray kitten?”

When you don’t speak, he sighs, kneeling down to your height. The warmth of his eyes is back and a lump forms in your throat.

“Caleb…” your whisper is soft. Tentative. He senses a chink in your defenses, a drop of blood in the ocean, and the gleam of his teeth reminds you of a shark.

“All you have to do is answer my questions, Pipsqueak,” he murmurs, lifting a hand to stroke your hair. “Can you do that for me? Can you be a good girl?” That same, mischievous smile plays on the corners of his lips, though it sends a chill down your spine, instead. “There’s more than one pair of eyes observing you in this room so I suggest you play nice.”

He pulls back again, depriving you of his warmth. “Now that you understand, we can have a friendly chat, hmm, Pips?” When you refuse to look at him, or give any indication you’re willing to cooperate, he sighs.

Instantly, the sensation of a thousand bricks falling onto your shoulders hits you, and you scream, almost crushed by the pressure. Caleb uses this momentary distraction to kneel down and lock your ankles to the chair’s legs and snap a band around your right wrist, his other hand gently running the ghost of his touch up your ankle. The forcefield of his Evol deters him from ever touching your skin, and if you could look closer, you would’ve seen his throat bobbing from a harsh swallow.

“Do you remember that injured cat you brought back home? Back when we were kids?” He glares up at you. “I got a collar with a bell. That way, it couldn't escape without being noisy,” he gently squeezes your knee. “The same can be said for you—you’re not allowed to leave me again.”

As he speaks, something sharp pokes your neck and you flinch. While your eyes are on him, the room starts to spin, and before you know it, you’re hunched over the chair, gasping and shaking.

“Caleb,” your voice sounds like you’re whispering from under the sea. “W-what’s—?”

“Don’t worry,” his reassurances warble back. “It won’t harm you—images in your brain,” his words flicker through your consciousness and you feel the collar tightening around your throat.

Shit… He had sanctioned a drug to be shot into your system.

Your woozy eyes keep on sliding back to the floor.

Caleb has drugged me.

“Where did you find the coordinates to this place?”

You’re fighting a losing battle trying to keep your composure. Everything feels too loud—too bright. Digging your nails into the chair’s arms, you grit your teeth, fighting back against the wave of vertigo threatening to take you under. You feel like you’re on a rollercoaster, out of breath, the ground dangling far from your feet. Every sharp inhale you take makes you float higher and higher, till you think your brain would burst from the stratosphere of your skull.

Nero… Nero knew this… and he let you walk right into it.

Nero… The sound of Caleb’s voice pierces through your mind like bright light cutting past the fog. That’s good, Pipsqueak. That’s my good girl… Is Nero your colleague?

You think of him, in his horn-rimmed glasses, hunched over his screen.

Good, Caleb’s voice soothes you, a lifeline through this impenetrable fog your mind has settled in. And, why are you here?

The image of his dog tag with the apple charm takes over your mind, and it hits you too late that Caleb can possibly see your thoughts unfold.

What are the possibilities that you can fight this? Your brain races. You feel like an astronaut stranded in space, isolated from gravity and light, as your spacesuit begins to fill up with water, almost drowning you.

A sharp jab to your chest makes your eyes flutter open, and his baton is pointed right at the apple charm hanging around your neck. Something softer, presumably made out of hide, brushes your chin as he studies the charm in between his fingers, his expression unreadable.

“It’ll all be over soon,” he whispers, the switch flipping, “As long as you keep on cooperating.”

You lean into his reassurances, a whimper slipping past your gritted teeth.

“I know, I know,” he soothes, and stands before you, his hands clenched into fists. “But, it’s for your own good. Just a little longer, Pips.”

He asks his final question: “Were you trailed?”

You can’t stop the next thought from forming in your head of your Hunter’s watch. Instantly, the band is ripped from your wrist, and you hear a loud crunch. The air thickens and you close your eyes, trying to find your centre. The world threatens to spin off your axis; G-Force pressure right in your center threatens to tear you apart.

Please… make it stop…

Like a switch has been flipped, the spinning cyclone in your mind stops. The sound of your harsh breathing and the erratic pulse in your ears is the only thing you can hear. Someone kneels right in front of you, and you don’t have the strength to push him away, not when he’s this close.

“Congratulations,” he says softly, stretching his hand like he wants to pat your head, but retracts it at the last minute. “You passed.”

The collar slips off your neck, and you hear it being tossed onto the table. “Come here,” he whispers and unbinds you. Caleb lifts you into his arms, though not even his warmth can comfort you.

Through the fog whirling in your mind, you make a snap decision.

Your hand collides into his cheek, the loud slap ricocheting around the room. He grunts, taken aback, and you use the momentum to swing your legs, wrapping your thighs around his neck so he’s forced to let go of you. Using every iota of balance you can muster, you land on your feet, none too gracefully. His hand wraps around your arm and practically hiss, sinking your teeth into his flesh.

Caleb gasps, and whips his hand back, glaring down at you.

“Hey! It’s me—”

But, you’re not listening. You’re ready to pounce when he grabs your wrist, drawing you closer to him, pressing your cheek to his chest so you can hear the harsh rise and fall of his breathing.

“Pips, it’s me,” he tries earnestly again. “It’s me. I’m back.”

To your horror, you start to cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

You sob and blubber like a child, growing weak in his arms as the hand in his grasp turns into a fist and you smack it weakly against his hard chest.

“How could you?” is the first thing you ask through your sobs. And, the next: “How’re you even alive?”

Caleb looks away, like he might reveal too much if he stares into your eyes. “It’s complicated—”

“Bullshit,” your anger resounds in the room like the crack of a whip. You should’ve bit him harder.

You think you see him flinch. You push away from his arms and he looks down at you, every crevice of his face dripping with desolation. There’s a glimmer of wetness in his eyes, and yet, you can’t trust it.

You can’t trust him.

“Pipsqueak,” he tries again, reminding you of the times when you were both younger, and he had to sweet-talk you out of a bad mood. “I know you must think some chip got put into my brain, or I’m no longer who I used to be. But, I’m still me,” he urges, and lifts your chin to meet his eyes. “I’m still Caleb. I never left.”

You grit your teeth and with a strength neither of you expect you to have, you push him against the table, pressing yourself in between his legs. Caleb grunts, but doesn’t shove you aside. He looks up at you, with those same pitiful, defiant violet eyes that urges you to either kiss him senseless or claw his eyeballs out.

… Wait.

Kiss him senseless?

You shake your head, pushing those thoughts aside. As if he can’t control himself anymore, he runs his knuckles down the back of your thighs, the new (downright useless) mandated Hunters uniform showing off too much bare skin. But, you couldn’t care less about that right now.

Right now, you have a score to settle with your oldest childhood friend.

“You’re still the same, huh?” Your hand presses to his chest, feeling the erratic pulse of his heartbeat under your palm. Even through all the layers he wears, you can still feel the heat of his body seeping past your skin. “You’re still the same Caleb I knew—the same one who walked through that damn door—” you growl, curling your hand into a fist and hitting it right into his sternum, “—and blew up on me?!”

“Pipsqueak—”

“Don’t you dare,” you seethe, baring your teeth. Though the tears continue to fall, your mind is honed in. Focused.

The need to obliterate him, to make him feel a shred of the same pain he had put you through for months, rears its ugly head.

Like he can read your mind—and you honestly think he can—he caresses your face, running his thumb over your jaw. The look on his face is pure regret, mingled with something unfathomable. You scent it in the lingering heat of his breath on your parted lips, or how much closer his face has gotten to yours.

Right here, he’s in the palm of your hands… And yet, why is he still so painfully out of reach?

“I don’t trust you,” the words slip past your numb lips before you can take them back. You grip his face, steadying those violet eyes on your furious ones. “I need to test you… to put you through a trial.”

The look of indignation on his face is delicious, and it whets your appetite for vindication.

“A trial?” He almost sounds insulted. “What have I done wrong?”

Your other hand slowly reaches for the front of his chest, running the tip of your finger down the starch lapels of his jacket. “You were missing. For months,” you grit out the words. “I need to check if you’re still him.”

“Still… me?”

You growl and tighten your grip on his chin.

“What is my favorite food?”

Caleb huffs, as if you had just asked him what color the sky was. “Braised chicken wings,” he murmurs almost sarcastically. “Next.”

You glance at the bite mark on his hand. “What is my favorite way of getting you back?”

He raises a brow. “Biting. I remember how when we were kids, you bit me so hard, the mark took 15 days to disappear.”

You swallow. He’s correct again.

Reluctantly, you loosen your grip on his chin. The position you’re both in hits you—his arm around your waist, his free hand still stroking the back of your thigh. Your one hand tangled in his jacket and the other still on his chin.

Heat floods your cheeks, and you recall him saying that there were more than one pair of eyes watching in this room. But, a part of you—the one who’s been deprived of Caleb for far too long, who had to contend with days of loneliness and missing him, couldn’t care less.

“Pipsqueak,” he murmurs, and his hand moves from your leg to your hair, gently nudging you deeper into the circle of his arms. The smell of him floods your nostrils with nostalgia and a hint of pine, the old Caleb you grew up with solidifying further and further under your touch.

“Caleb…”

Faster than two atoms on the path to collision, his lips are on yours.

Caleb kisses you like you’re the only source of oxygen left in his world. Something crashes onto the floor, and the plate of apples rolls onto the carpet, an orchard of sin scattered in between your legs pressed together. The sweet, tart flavor of the fruit he had just eaten saturates your tastebuds, and you moan when he desperately tangles his tongue with yours.

He lifts you into his arms bridal style, and carries you down a narrow hallway you had never noticed before, the flashing thunder illuminating the gaudy paintings hung on the wall.

He takes you to what looks like a medical room, though no one is in there. Your lips press to his neck, kissing and sucking on his pulse point. He hisses and in a low tone, warns, “Keep that up and you might regret it, Pipsqueak.”

Gently, like you’re precious cargo, he sets you down onto the bed, those violet eyes like a newfound nebula fixed onto you, filled with the brightest stars in the galaxy.

Caleb runs his hand up your thigh, and you flicker your gaze to his gun holster.

In the split second when he’s distracted, you lunge right for it, grabbing the handle.

He yelps, taken aback, but is faster, snapping his hand around your wrists to impede your movements. The gun drops from your grasp like dead weight, along with your hopes of ever escaping. If looks could kill, you would be dead meat from the intensity of his glare.

Caleb exhales, fixing his frigid gaze onto yours.

“Oh,” he chuckles, and you shiver at the dark edge in his tone. “You will pay for that.”

Gravity surrounds you like a weighted blanket, except it pins you to the bed rather than offering any comfort. Your whimper is lost behind the gloved hand that muffles your cries, hissing into your ear to, “Stay still, goddamnit.”

Caleb is breathing hard, a drop of sweat rolling from his temple down his throat. You feel it dripping onto your neck, your wild eyes fix on him.

When he’s sure you won't retaliate again, he stands up from the bed, bearing down on you. Picking up the gun from the floor, he trails it right to your temple. His Evol hasn’t muffled your speech, but you don’t want to say a word to him, preferring to glare.

“I asked you a simple question—”

“And, you know I can’t answer that,” he retaliates, recognizing what you’re trying to do. His brow furrows. “There are things I can’t tell you, Pips. Things you don’t even understand—”

“Then, help me understand!” You’re yelling now, close to tears. “Help me understand why you left… why you left me…” your voice breaks on the last word, and a look of regret shadows his face.

“I never wanted to.” The gun slides from your temple right to your jaw, but you’re not afraid of it. Nothing in the world can keep you from knowing the truth; from uncovering every layer in Caleb’s new facade.

(But, maybe, this dark side of him has always been there, and you were just too blind not to notice).

He takes a shaky breath. “If I had the choice to do it over again, I would’ve never—ever—left you.”

Sincerity bleeds past the shades of night falling outside the window. Silence envelopes the two of you, and the realization dawns when he exhales your name.

“Pipsqueak…”

“Don’t call me that.”

You’re not his Pipsqueak anymore, the same way he is inexplicably not your Caleb anymore.

He gets back down to his knees, right in front of you. The look on his face is nothing short of misery, heavy with a thousand implications he could never divulge.

You’re desperate, hungry for more. To know more, to feel more. To embrace the darkness brewing in you like the undeniable heat that’s simmering between your two bodies.

“Do you hate it?” He asks softly, in a voice frayed with a thousand emotions, and you sense he’s not referring to your old nickname. Do you hate me?

The silent question hangs heavy in the air, and without a second thought, you turn your face and press your lips to the barrel of his gun.

You can point a weapon at me, but you will never shoot, your kisses on the cold metal speak where words fail you. The gun trembles in his grasp, and between your body pinned to the bed from his Evol and a military-grade weapon pointed at you, what you’re doing is completely ballsy. And, insane.

“I know you have secrets,” you murmur as the cold metal tip travels to the nape of your neck. Despite himself and his rigorous self-control, Caleb is still a man.

Still flesh and bone. Love and grief.

“But, we’re a team, remember? You and me. Me and you. We work together, Caleb. Not against each other.”

Your blurry mind tries hard to focus on the task at hand—needing to throw him off guard—but you can’t deny how the heat in his hooded eyes is making you feel.

He inhales sharply at your words, though the rest of his expression remains unreadable. “I told you, what I know is top secret and even you’re not allowed to know it.”

Those violet eyes trail down your susceptible body spread wide open for him on the bed, and you notice a flicker of hunger behind his dark gaze.

You’ve always loved Caleb’s attention: whether he’s complimenting you on scoring a goal, or commending your plane model assembly skills.

Everything you did was, to a degree, for him to see you. To finally accept you wholeheartedly and without restraint.

You were his little tail; the Pipsqueak who followed him around like his shadow.

And even now, when he has a gun right at your throat, all you can think about is how much you want to please him.

Tilting your head back, you moan when the barrel slides down the valley of your breasts. His breathing is growing heavier; the look in his lilac eyes is stormy and dark.

“You… like this?”

He sounds hoarse. In disbelief.

You nod. “I…” you lick your lips. “I love it.”

The cool metal grazes your jaw, and when it taps on your lips, you don’t hesitate to part them. Glancing into those molten, violet eyes, you suck on the hollow tip, aware of his finger on the trigger and the look of undefiled lust on his face.

“God,” he mumbles, hungrily eyeing how deep the barrel is down your throat. “You’re such a good, good little girl…”

He prises the gun from between your teeth, and the strands of saliva connecting your swollen lips to the spit-soaked metal shimmers in the low light.

Caleb tosses the gun onto the table, growling as he crawls on top of you.

The effect of his Evol fades, allowing you to move your feet, but his hands on your knees make sure you can’t pull off anything funny.

“You’re gonna lay back, and you’re going to be good,” he lifts your leg and kisses over your knee. It would be so easy to drive the hard cartilage right into his nose… but, you don’t want his hands to leave your skin. You want to see what he will do next.

The off-duty Hunter uniform you’re wearing rides up your thighs, exposing the plush fat of your thighs. His gloves rasping on your skin drives a shiver up your spine.

It’s like he refuses to engage in skin-to-skin, whether as punishment or a caution.

You whine softly when his bigger body bears down on yours.

“Caleb…”

He grasps your chin, none too gentle as he pulls you closer to him. “Look at you,” he growls, pushing himself closer—the heat of his body melting with yours. “Look at what you do to me.”

It’s hard to even breathe when he’s close enough to devour your face.

His breath grazes your cheek, and you close your eyes. Your oldest childhood friend savors the proximity, taking in a whiff of your clean perfume.

Before your mind can play catchup, your body falls right into the orbit of his desire; lips on his, breaths mingling as one.

“Fuck,” Caleb breathes, a moan pulled from the depths of his chest, tortured and strangled. “You taste so—nhng—”

He gasps when your arms come to loop around his shoulders, dragging him almost between your legs. He steadies himself, gloved palms on the bed. You run your hands over the starch grooves of his jacket, finding the first button.

Caleb lets your touch wander aimlessly, his breath caught in the back of his throat.

“Are you sure?” He whispers, those anguished violet eyes almost gouging into yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless. “Are you sure you want this?”

Are you sure you want me?

As a silent answer, you lean forward, catching his lower lip in between your teeth.

“Ngnhmhm,” he moans, gasping when you bite down hard.

He tastes blood and your desperation, helping you unbutton his coat. The heavy chain slaps against your eager cheek in his rush to slide it off his arms. “Shit—sorry.” Cool fingers brush the afflicted cheek. “You alright, sweetness?”

You nod, huffing and moving your hands to his other lighter jacket, unbuttoning it. He chuckles at your eagerness and helps you with the brass buttons. As the layer disappears, you’re confronted with another shirt.

“How many clothes are you wearing?!” Your cry brings a mischievous grin tugging on the corners of his lips.

“Lots,” he murmurs and takes over with a nimble skill only a man of his caliber can have. The grey shirt melts off his broad shoulders, discarded onto the floor, and finally—fucking finally—he removes the black turtleneck, revealing smooth acres of warmed, tan skin right under your touch.

You exhale shakily, running your fingers down his distinct pectorals, tugging on the dog tag around his neck. Your eyes land on the familiar apple charm.

“How—?”

He thumbs the similar charm hanging from around your neck. For the first time this evening, he voluntarily gives up some information.

“I—uh—had someone copy my old necklace.”

The look of disbelief on your face is enough to deter his next words.

“You decoyed the necklace I gifted you?”

Caleb winces. “C’mon, Pip—I-I mean, love…” he sighs and presses his palm to the back of your head, drawing you closer to peck your pouty lips. “It helped me make sure you were safe. Plus,” he adds, a touch of humor in his tone. “You did tell me you would kick my ass if I ever took it off.”

You struggle to understand the layers behind his words, fighting to form a reply when his lips travel to the juncture of your neck, softly kissing and sucking your sensitive flesh.

Focused on retrieving the truth, you fight hard against his best efforts at derailing you. “You—mhm—were tracking me? All this time?”

Caleb doesn’t pause his sensual assault, groaning softly. “Won’t call it tracking per say…”

You want to get mad. Truly, you do. But, the feeling of his teeth grazing your pulse point melts any coherent thoughts left in your brain.

The confusion you felt before gives way to something deeper. Unrestrained. He kisses you again, and you absorb the feeling of warm skin under your palms, feeling the heat of his body thrumming under your touch. His muscles expand and contract with every shaky breath, his chest pressed so intimately to yours.

You squirm, and he hisses, restraining your hips to the bed.

“Stop that,” he hisses.

Confusion overtakes you, and you want to ask what’s wrong when he winces and shifts his hips further from yours, instinctively setting a physical boundary you want gone immediately.

“Are you scared?” It’s your turn to goad him. If he thinks you’re going to be nothing but docile and wanting, he’s been away for far too long.

His lips twitch. “Of you? Nah. But, of what I can do?” His voice drops an octave, and he leans in, one gloved hand going to your chin, holding it in place. “If anyone should be scared, it’s you.”

Caleb tests the waters of this new dynamic unfolding between you two, dipping his fingers past the gap of your lips. The breach should make you pull away, take a step back to reassess the situation.

But, you’re as much under his spell as you have bewitched him.

The taste of earthy hardness fills your mouth, and you suck on his thumb obediently.

Caleb looks down at you, the heat in his eyes almost touching the boiling point. A few more moments of your teasing, and he would be close to bursting and taking you right on this bed.

Never one to be satisfied with what he is allowed to take, Caleb pushes his luck further, sinking his thumb deeper down the soft gullet of your throat; compressing your gurgled words down to the bottom of your mouth in his journey to devour everything you can give him.

“Oh, fuck.” He groans when you take another finger into your mouth like you were meant for him. “That’s a good girl… my good little girl…”

You moan around his digits stuffed down your throat, peeling your watery eyes to his smirking expression.

“Cat got your tongue, Pipsqueak?” He murmurs, and stretches your jaw with a third finger. You’re so full of the taste of him, you start to choke. “You look so pretty like this—not a thought in your brain, just relying on me to make you full… to make you whole.”

His words send a shiver down your spine. You want to protest, but deep down, it’s true.

The grief that clashes with his year-long absence, this “new” side to him you are starting to unravel… the old Calen, the one you loved and looked up to, is starting to metamorphosize right before your eyes.

“Cwaleb—” you whimper past his fingers.

He’s barely laid a hand on you and you’re already folding.

Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, he discreetly wipes off your spit on the bed sheets, fixing you with an arched brow.

As if asking: Well… your move, Pipsqueak.

Your hands fly to the buckle of his military pants, the sound of his zipper dragging down punctuating the air like a crass remark.

Caleb stiffens when he feels your cool finger dipping past the waistband and he shudders, mind going hazy at a touch he had only dreamed off but never thought would come true. When you reveal him to the cool air, he’s half-flaccid, already at a six inch mast and the prettiest shade of pink you have ever seen with an undertone of mauve.

He’s part of the thicker team, though length-wise, it would make any woman scream and cream. Heavy balls. A slight curve. Growing up pumped full of hormones, you had secretly wondered how your oldest childhood friend’s cock would look like, but you never once anticipated seeing it in real time.

“Holy…” you trail off, and he grins.

“Like what you see?”

You’re spread out for him on the threadbare sheets like a vision from a forbidden oasis. As much as he wants to bury himself in you, Caleb needs to make sure you’re ready first. He licks his lips, whets his appetite, and fills up your empty mouth with his tongue.

“Mhm…” you groan into the depths of his mouth. “Caleb…” You swallow, and deciding to throw him off, you murmur a word he thought would never, ever come out from your mouth:

“Sir,” you whimper. “ Kiss me harder…”

Sparks go off in his mind. He feels like the force of the explosion has finally caught up with him a year later and his breath is knocked out from his lungs.

“What did you say?”

His deep violet eyes devour the look of wanton desire on your face, mind drawing a blank.

Did you just…?

Did he hear it right?

“Again,” he almost stutters, desperately needing to hear that word from your lips. “Say that word again.”

The restraint in your mind is at best a flimsy net letting your inhibitions fly freely. “Sir,” the word drips from your lips like the sultriest confession; the look on his face like that of a holy man scandalized. Except Caleb wasn’t holy—he was hardly a saint. He was the scum of the earth trying to lay his corrupted hands on a being far too precious for him.

Immolating from his own self-hatred, it’s hard for him to fathom that you want this—that you want him.

“Please,” your whisper cuts through the tension of the self-inflicted torment settling onto pensive demeanor. “Please… make love to me, Sir.”

All his years of restraint—of immaculate self-control—snaps like the last leaf off an autumn branch. He rains dizzying kisses down onto the jut of your collarbone, summer rain sweeter than sin on your tongue.

Caleb removes his pants, kicking the heavy material down to the floor as he works his boots off frantically with the toes of each alternating foot.

The feel of his body on yours, almost smothering you to the mattress, drives you wild with a heat stoking right in the heart of your core.

“Sir,” you murmur, almost dizzy with lust.

He pops open the buttons of your dress, slipping it down your shoulders. The swathes of your bare skin presented for him makes him feel like he’s barely lucid, lost in a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from. With one hand, he expertly unhooks your bra and slides it down your body, tossing it onto the floor where it joins his pants.

Caleb is barely restrained when he pushes you back onto the bed, his lips finding refuge in the juncture of your neck and shoulders. He nips, licks and sucks like his life depends on marking you; the sight of his marks on your skin only serves to make his feral need rise higher and higher.

He takes refuge right at your chest, nibbling and nipping the plush fat of your breasts till you’re practically vibrating with excitement, your nipples wet with his spit and aching for more of his touch.

The dark haired man can barely stop himself from what he does next—sliding your dress further down your body till the rise of your lace panties appears in his sights like the sun breaking over the horizon.

He feels the warmth of you on his face, right in his cheeks as your thighs tighten around his head.

“Oh, love,” he groans, like a man starving. “C’mere, Princess—”

He pulls you closer till your pelvis bumps his chin and you squeak, feeling his hot breath graze your bare skin.

“Caleb—”

Your protests die an immature death when he buries his tongue right into your tight cunt. He moans at your taste, the lightning playing with shadows all over your body, illuminating the pulsing beats of darkness hiding behind those violet eyes. His pupils almost swallow those lilac orbs whole, their darkened gaze latched right onto you.

“God,” he mumbles like a man tasting manna for the first time. “... s’sweet… this pussy is so sweet…”

The charming, charismatic and kind Caleb from before would’ve never dared utter such words in front of you. But, his other twin in bed, the one who wears his face complete with a devilish smirk, rolls his tongue over your syrupy folds, moaning at your flavor.

You taste like candied apples, and Caleb thinks he could eat you up whole.

He squeezes more moans past your sweet lips when he draws all your folds into his mouth, spitting it back out only to do it again and again and again.

“You’re so wet,” he slurs, those pretty purple eyes already pussy-drunk. “So fucking wet f’me.”

Your legs spread, wrapping around his shoulders, the taste of your cunt almost coating the back of his throat—Caleb couldn’t be more in love with you.

“Mhm,” he moans, a sight in between your legs, chin slick with your juices, eyes half-closed in pure ecstasy.

“You’re so full for me… dripping down everywhere,” he murmurs, placing a quick kiss onto your twitchy clit. “I could drink you for days.”

Your cries and moans only fuel him to be meaner. Now that he has you in the palm of his hand, he’s not planning to let go of you anytime.

It’s filthy, animalistic, and utterly raw. The emotions he evokes in you quakes through your soul, seeping out of your core only to be consumed by him, your lust growing his lust, his moans inciting your yearning.

Caleb continues his gentle assault on your clit with his tongue, grinning against your cunt.

“Louder… let them hear you.” He slips one leather-clad finger inside your pussy, pressing down on the spongy, soft spot. Those pretty lips wrap around your clit, giving it a gentle suck and you fold.

You keen, tangling your fingers in his hair. It’s one thing to be eaten out this thoroughly, but another to be subjected to such pleasurable torture by a man who has hungered for you for years.

“Good girl,” the bridge of his nose almost rubs your clit raw when he buries his tongue even deeper inside you. “Louder,” he moans past flesh and more pussy juice gushing onto his chin. “Make it messy, baby.”

Caleb… Caleb… your breaths come out in huge gasps, your back arching off the bed.

He makes unravelling you look so easy, and you’d be absolutely pissed off if he wasn’t edging you towards the biggest orgasm of your life.

While you’re in the throes of your pleasure, you feel his gloved hand wrap around your throat, thumb pushing past your flush lips.

“Mhm—” you moan at the flavor of him saturating your tongue. “Oh… Caleb—”

“Yeah,” he growls, chest rumbling. “Say my name, baby. Say it. Scream it.”

“Caleb,” your moans double in volume, the pleasure about to burst from your seams. “Oh, Caleb—!”

Heat, wetness, a deep, stirring pleasure threatening to consume you, and then—

Nothing.

Caleb pulls away, squeezing your thighs. He rips off the gloves, and finally—finally—you feel his skin on yours.

The rasp of his warmth across your thighs drives goosebumps down your arms. “Shit,” you whimper when he pushes your thighs further apart to settle in between them. His body smothers yours, encompassing you in the pure mass that is his weight bearing fully down onto your exposed body.

Bastard. He leaves you hanging, reeling from a ruined orgasm, as you glare at him, your anger and indignation sputtering and dying on your tongue.

“Caleb! You—you—”

He grins, dark and sweaty bangs falling all over face as he drags you closer by the hips.

“Open wide, pretty,” Caleb coaxes, thumbing the head of his pretty cock, smearing precum all over his digit.

Fuck—ah… you groan sinfully. The sight of him pleasuring himself is seared in your brain. You bite your lower lip, shifting your hips. Need drips from your gasping breaths and your head is spinning.

Easy, he murmurs. I gotcha.

Caleb lifts your hips in his large hands, finding the perfect angle before slipping the sticky head between your folds. Your gasp grazes his ears in a warm puff, a telltale sign of your unexpected surprise at how good this feels.

It reminds you of those times when he would tease you as kids—always holding something out of reach and never giving in unless you begged nicely.

And, you sense it’s what he’s doing right now. Mercilessly teasing, testing your patience. Waiting for you to beg.

Caleb grasps the base of his hefty cock and runs it over the mess of your creases, soaked with your excitement for him. He teasingly pushes the plump head past the slutty ring of muscle gaping open for him, and heaves in a deep groan, like that of a beast about to breed his mate. Your eyes are crossed with pleasure, and you’re whimpering sweetly, no thoughts forming in your brain besides more, more, more.

You ache for him, but all you can do is take his teasing. “Please,” you huff, peeling your docile, little lamb eyes onto him, wishing he would relent and just fuck you.

The sheets twist in your fist and your other hand is tangled in his sweat-soaked hair.

Caleb uses one hand to brush his damp bangs off his face, and he grins, intent on making you pliable to his every whim. He presses a kiss to your jugular, biting down on it, relishing in your jolt of pleasure.

You’re so sensitive, even his pelvis grinding down on your clit feels good and you shift your hips higher, desperate for more friction—for more of him.

“Sir,” you sputter, woozy. “Please… please…”

Caleb hums, lifts your thighs over his broad, muscular shoulders. The slight tilt spreads you out for him, a wildflower blooming under his touch. You’ve captivated him with your scent, your skin, your sweet sounds…

But, little does he know, you’re equally enraptured; caught in his trap.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs hoarsely. “Pretty when you beg. Pretty when you look at me like you can’t wait a second longer…”

His wet lips swell around your pulse point again, flowering heated kisses onto your sensitive skin.

“Nghh—Caleb,” you whimper and he chuckles—that bastard.

“You ready, sweets?” He teases you, shooting you a smug, stupid smile much to your consternation.

You want to roll your eyes and be crass, asking him to just give up and put it in, but your words get stuck right in your throat when you realize you're already on the verge of losing it altogether.

You take one good look at him, and wet your lips, yielding with a nod.

“Yes, Sir.”

Your obedience is like a hit of ecstasy for him, firing up his veins, and he moans, shifting closer to you. The bulbous tip jostles deep inside you as another inch is added and you writhe, eyes squeezed close in delirium. “Mhnmph!”

Your moans shoot through his veins like licks of a strong, disorientating drug and Caleb groans. His hefty body is already shaking from the strain, and he doesn’t know how long he can last. His thighs shudder, and he has to bite on his lower lip to keep from moaning like a goddamn loser when he finally sinks his dick all the way into the love of his life.

“Mhm—ah!” Your nails dig into his shoulders and he hisses.

He gives you a split second to get used to the sensation, nothing more, nothing less. Obviously, he’s waited for you for his entire life. Etiquette and consideration can come later—all he wants to do right now is fuck the ever loving shit out of you. Caleb sets a pace, one that has you twitching, and he seethes at your lack of resistance.

“You’re—hnng, already so eager,” he snarls. “Been dreaming about this? About my cock?”

The sight of your decoyed necklace slapping against your skin from every thrust drives him dizzy with lust. His name on the dog tag, the apple charm looking so innocent and snug right in the valley of your luscious tits. It doesn’t take much to please a man like him and Caleb is as happy as a dog who got the best bone.

He gnaws on your shoulder, teeth making indents on your precious skin.

Your thighs tighten around his shoulders, body almost folded in half like a pancake.

Caleb… Caleb… you whisper-gasp, the darkness of the room and the subsiding storm outside the windows lending to the dark yet intense atmosphere.

He licks along your bottom lip, sucking on your tongue. You taste so good, Princess…

Your whimpers brush his chin and his hair tickles your sternum as he ducks his head lower, bringing your stiff peaks into his mouth. He nurses and suckles on you, a fiendish look in his eyes.

“Mhmph—you taste like sin,” he groans deeply, the sound travelling all the way down to your core. The forbidden fruit, right here in his arms and like a selfish man, he wants more.

Without warning, gravity disengages around your body and you’re pinned to the ceiling in the blink of an eye.

It feels surreal to look over his shoulder, at the bed hovering above your head, the medicine cabinet and lamp all peering up at you like a twisted version of wonderland.

“Caleb—!”

He silences your protests with a harsh kiss, licking and sucking on your lower lip till you whimper and quiver. Deftly, he guides your hips away from him and lets gravity do the rest. You sink down—full and to the hilt. He’s so deep in you, you swear you can taste him all the way in the back of your throat.

Caleb fucks you this way—mean, demanding—using gravity and his Evol to his advantage.

You writhe and twist in his grasp, head thrown back. The ceiling wall is cold against your back, though he’s warm enough to the touch to make your head spin.

Bodies press intricately, you can’t tell where he begins and where you end. Like two snakes interlocking, you feel Caleb everywhere. His breath on your neck, his hands roaming down your body possessively, the feel of his thick girth hitting every spot just right.

Drool drips down your chin, and you feel him chuckle; the rough rasp of his tongue lapping it up.

Messy girl, he drawls, smacking his lips. A smug grin tugs on his mouth, giving his boyishly handsome face a devilish touch.

Give me more, he urges. More. Make it messy, Princess.

He sucks on your pulse point, your neck the perfect canvas for his marks. Nuzzling you close, you feel the tenderness behind his searing need.

His cock molds into you like a perfect fit. The sound of his hefty balls slapping wetly against your skin fills the room with a salacious symphony.

Caleb, Caleb, Caleb. You can’t control the stream of moans escaping your puffy lips. He kisses you hard again, deepening it and letting his tongue tangle with yours in a passionate dance. Your heart swells with adoration for him; his flavor heavy on your tongue, sousing through your senses like a creeping heat reaching towards its completion.

His touch kindles up more desire as if you’re dry straw waiting to catch fire, and oh—does he let you burn.

Strings of your pussy juice drip past his balls, streaking his thighs like filthy snail trails. The shine of your own arousal dribbles past the pert curve of his fit ass, and ribbons into droplets falling from the ceiling like it’s goopy rain.

Caleb doesn’t care about the mess you’re making. All he wants is to see you unravel.

Your cheeks flushed, eyes crossed—he leans in to kiss you hard, needing to taste your desperation firsthand.

Your hot moans give everything up to him, your body quaking like a tempest ready to unleash hell onto his self-control.

He grunts when you fist his hair, finding your rhythm as you fuck him back, meeting him in the middle. The sway of your hips tells him all he needs to know—his little mei mei isn’t as innocent as he thinks she is.

“—taught you how to fuck like that?” He grunts, lapping at a bead of sweat about to freefall from your chin.

“Huh?” You peel your watery eyes on his, his sticky kiss gracing your cheek.

“Said—who taught my sweet, innocent, little Pipsqueak to fuck like this?”

He punctuates his emphasis with two harsh thrusts, his length jabbing your cervix.

You grunt, eyes rolling back into your head. “N-no one—fuck,” you whine when he slips one big hand between your bodies, rolling his thumb over your lubricious clit.

“A-ah!” your cries rebound across the room as he plays with your fleshy pearl, thumbing circles onto it vigorously, hoping to glean your confession. “Ngh—Caleb!”

Your thighs begin to shake, and his grin turns wolfish. “Won’t let you come ‘less you tell me the truth, Pipsqueak. M’waiting.”

He stamps a possessively hard kiss onto the nape of your neck, like he’s trying to drive the mark of his mouth past your skin.

“I’m telling the truth,” you whimper. “Never had no one—no one but you.”

A deep, guttural groan brushes the soft shell of your ear.

“Swear?” he demands.

“Uh-huh,” you hiccup, all dulcet and demure with the position he has you in. Your lachrymose eyes are fixated on him and only him—Caleb thinks his body might burst from all the blood swelling in his cock and heart.

He huns, and runs his tongue down your clavicle. “Good girl… good little Pips.”

The nickname combined with his derogatory tone inadvertently makes you clench around him tighter, and he hisses.

“You’ll be the death of me, y’know?” His eyes darken and he drives his hips harder as if trying to make a point. “Gonna make sure you never leave my side—we’ll always be together. Forever.”

You whine and dig your nails into his biceps.

“Caleb—” you gasp, almost falling out of his grasp and face down onto a bed 10 feet below you. But, he tightens his grip, and you know he would never let you go.

He shuffles you deeper into the alcove of his body, and you tighten your hold around his neck. “You—mhm—are insane.”

“Yeah?” He grins. “Only for you, Pips.”

Tingles running down your spine, and you feel hot and cold at the same time. He fixes his sights on your glassy gaze, enjoying how wrecked you look under him.

(Well, technically, above him with the power of his Evol, but eh, semantics).

The storm outside is no match for the one raging inside of you, and you cling onto him like a second skin, drunk off the pleasure he’s inducing in you. Kissing his jaw, nipping his lower lip. Caleb grunts when you press your chest to him, the feeling of your pert nipples rubbing against his toned pecs making him feel like this is all a dream—one he doesn’t want to wake up from.

Too soon, his vision to see you come undone flashes as you toss your head back and moan his name.

“Caleb…”

Your whimper is a signal of your impending release, and he grits his teeth, driving his hips further into you, planting his knees on the water-stained ceiling and going ham on your pliant body.

He feels you shuddering around him, dipping his head to feast on the sweat slicking your tits.

He glances up at you, catching your eye the second your release tears through you, his smirk making your heart skip a few beats.

Caleb feels the heat stirring in his own belly. You’re down for the count, holding onto him like a washed up doll whose lax mouth occasionally lets out a few moans and whimpers.

So pliant… so malleable… so easily molded to his whims…

Breaking you clean, he wants to dominate every inch of your body—claim your thoughts as his so that all you think, feel and want is him.

“Ngh,” he groans, burying his face into the crook of his neck as he finally breaks and fat loads of hot cum fill you up.

Caleb holds you closer—securely—as he reels his Evol in, and slowly floats down onto the bed with you in his arms.

With the combination of the serum, your release and this newfound dynamic between you and Caleb, you’re out cold in seconds.

He feels your body going limp, giving way to sleep and presses his nose into your hair. For a few moments, he refuses to let you go, arms protectively wrapped around you.

Then, the peace is shattered by a polite knock on the door.

“... Colonel… we need to evaluate her…”

Shit. He licks his lips and groans softly. You’re so warm, so comfortable in his arms. He can’t let you out his grasp.

But, duty calls and the Farspace Fleet is a minefield of legality. He can’t steal away and run off with their test subject.

Not yet, at least.

As much as he wants to stay like this with you forever, Caleb steels his heart and pulls out of your warm, slurry depths. He dresses you first, and then gets himself presentable.

First Commander Brigette of the medical aide steps in at his signal. Her silver hair is tightened into a bun and mirrors the tight look of dismay on her face.

“Sir, it is imperative—”

“Don’t. Not now,” he mutters tersely and straightens his tie. “Just check if her vitals are alright. And, don’t you dare mention this to anyone else, you hear me? If you do, things’ll get messy for me—the next round of body bags hasn’t been shipped in yet.”

She nods, though she looks like she wants to argue.

The rest of the fleet didn’t yet know of his true relationship with you—to them, you’re just a pretty face their Colonel took a fancy to. And, he wants to keep it that way for as long as he can while he formulates the best plan to get you to safety.

“The sedative we gave her was meant to lower her inhibitions enough to confess,” Brigitte murmurs. “I didn’t think—”

“If she doesn’t wake up, I’m throwing you and your team right into the Deepspace tunnel,” he threatens.

The award-winning scientist flinches, and lowers her gaze. “Colonel Xia, we will recover the antidote for her quickly.”

Caleb exhales, the tension in his broad shoulders lessening slightly. That’s what he likes to hear.

Brigette soon finishes her rounds of physical examinations on you. She bows and exits the medical room, leaving him alone with you again.

Caleb steps forward and gently runs his gloved fingers through your hair. In the silence of the fleet, where mechanical whirs mingle with his steady breathing, he makes you a promise that he will do everything in his power to fulfill.

“I swear I’m getting you out of here in one piece, Pipsqueak.” He leans forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Swear it on my life.”

He told you before that you would always see him when he came home and this time, he intends to keep his promise till the very end.

a/n: i need this man biblically and carnally,,,, feedbacks and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

#🦢 writes #caleb xia yizhou #caleb love and deepspace #caleb lads #caleb x mc #caleb x reader #caleb x you #caleb smut #lnds smut #lads smut #love and deepspace fic #love and deepspace

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sincerelyneo · 22 days ago

Text

fifteen minutes | n.jm

“i can do a lot in fifteen minutes, only gonna take two to make you finish”

💿now playing: 15 minutes by sabrina carpenter

❯ summary: Jaemin is supposed to be on stage soon—not in his dressing room with his girlfriend. He’s on a time crunch. Good thing you can do a lot in fifteen minutes.

❯ pairings: idol!jaemin x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, just pure smut

❯ words: 2.3k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni, hand jobs, mirror kink, premature ejaculation, switch!jaemin, oral sex (male receiving), neediness, cum swallowing, unprotected sex (don’t do this!), reader uses she/her pronouns, literally just quickie smut

When Jaemin first asked you to join him on tour this year, it sounded like such a great idea. He pitched it in a way he knew you couldn’t turn down: like a fun bucketlist, a silly scavenger hunt where the two of you would fuck in every city on the tour. You weren’t thinking straight at the time—just liked the sound of not being away from your boyfriend for months at a time. And sex. Lots of it.

But you only made it through two stops on the U.S. leg before things started going south. First was LA, then Oakland—both in California, which Jaemin insisted didn’t need separate hookups because they were the same state. But then one skipped stop turned into two, then five, then the entire Latin America leg went without so much as a quickie. At this point, you swear the two of you were having more phone sex when he was away than actual sex now that you’re here.

But it’s not his fault. It’s not yours, either. Tour is just so…mentally exhausting. There’s so much to do, so little time. Honestly, it hurts you, seeing how disconnected he becomes when he’s constantly on the go. It’s like his body shifts into auto-pilot, just moving through the motions: rehearsal, soundcheck, makeup, performance, sleep, repeat. He never misses cuddles before bed, though, he’s soft like that.

And now, as you sit in his dressing room, watching his makeup artist roll her kit out, you can feel all that tension, all the frustration—yours and his—simmering in the air. You need him. You want him. You want him to relax, to take himself off auto-pilot and let his mind be here, be present, with you, in Europe, in London, at the last stop of the tour.

You get up from the couch and settle behind him as he looks into the full-length mirror. Your arms snake around his waist, and you rest your chin on his shoulder, pressing soft, feather-light kisses down his neck.

“You look pretty,” you whisper against his creamy skin, your breath so hot, so tantalizing, it forces him suck in his own sharp inhale.

“Baby…” he groans, “I have to be on stage in fifteen minutes.”

Exactly, you think. He’s a force on stage, filled with so much energy. You know that if you don’t have him now, you might not get him until you’re back home.

“Good thing I can do a lot in fifteen minutes.”

Your hand runs down the front of his stage outfit, careful not to crease anything and send his stylist into a frenzy—well, more of a frenzy than she's already going to be in for what you have planned. Jaemin watches the motion through the mirror, his nostrils flaring as his dark brown eyes lock onto your hands gliding down his body. He’s needed this, needed you, the whole tour. And now, he’s going to stand there and let you take whatever you want from him.

Your fingers fumble with his belt buckle, snapping it open just enough to toy with his zipper and palm the growing bulge in his briefs.

“Babyyy…” he groans again, voice strained, almost like it’s a struggle. And maybe it is, Jaemin hates (loves) your teasing. “We can’t—We shouldn’t.”

“You don’t want to?” you ask, glancing at him through the mirror. You flutter your lashes at him so innocently, as if you’re not currently rubbing his hard, needy cock through the thin black material.

“Fuck…” His head falls back for a moment, but he’s quick to lift it again, his eyes needing to find you again in the mirror. He can’t look away, especially not now when you're teasing him so deliberately. “Baby, you know I want to, but fuck—fifteen minutes isn’t enough time for me to fuck you the way I want.”

You smile knowingly. You get it. When Jaemin fucks, he fucks intentionally. He likes to take his time, kissing every part of you—your wrists, your forearms, your stomach, your hips, your thighs, your ankles. All of it, like pieces of art only he gets to appreciate. He likes that you’re his, wants to remember how lucky he is to be the only one savouring every inch of you. He’s patient, thoughtful. Fifteen minutes wouldn’t give him the time to indulge like he usually does.

That’s probably why he hasn’t tried fucking you much during the tour; but right now, you don’t want careful. You want quick. You want messy. You want to make him feel good, even if it’s just for a short time.

“I never said you had to do anything,” you murmur, peppering another kiss to his neck, your voice low. “I said I can do a lot in fifteen minutes. So, please, let me make you feel good, Jaem.”

He bites his lip, conflicted. Jaemin knows he shouldn’t, really knows he shouldn’t, but the desire coursing through him is too much to ignore. He wants this, so badly. That’s why he’s letting you help him slide his briefs down, just enough. You don’t take them all the way off—time’s not on your side—but just enough to let his hard, eager cock spring free. His tip is flushed and angry, glistening with pre-cum, thick and veiny and standing to attention.

“Shit, Jaem, this must fucking ache, baby.”

You wrap your fingers around his cock, and he shudders the second you touch him—so sensitive. Jaemin’s eyes stay locked on yours in the mirror, pupils blown wide as he watches you slowly start to stroke him. But there’s no time for slow, no time for teasing. You have fifteen minutes to make him cum, and you will.

“God, Y/N… shit—please,” Jaemin breathes, his voice wrecked. “You’re fucking killing me.”

You just smile, sly and dirty, as you keep working him over. He’s like putty in your hand, his hips rolling forward, chasing the friction, so desperate, so fragile, so pent up. Your fingers twist and stroke, applying just the right pressure to make his whole body shudder—abs tightening, breath hitching. It’s mesmerizing. And it’s even hotter knowing he’s watching it all unfold in the mirror, eyes hazy, lips parted, completely undone by you.

You lean in, your lips just inches from his ear, and whisper, “You’re so hard for me, Jaem. It’s so pretty.”

His eyes flutter shut. He loves being pretty for you, loves being perfect when he can, loves when you tell him. His head falls back as he surrenders to the sensation, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. And you can feel it—the way his body tenses, a different kind of tension building deep inside him.

You pick up the pace, stroking him faster, more deliberate. Long, languid strokes, your grip firm but careful, paying extra attention to the head—just the way he likes it, the way you know will get him there to make use of the time.

You can’t help but smirk when his hips start moving more frantically, short breaths turning into whimpers, pleads—desperate, breathy begging.

“Think your stylist will be pissed if you cum on these pants?” you tease, easing the pace. “They look expensive… maybe I should stop—”

“Don’t…” pant, “You…” pant, “Dare.”

You wouldn’t—of course not. You don’t want to stop, but you’re not a menace either. You don’t want him getting into any trouble because of you. So, you do the only thing that makes sense.

You drop to your knees.

He barely has a second to process it before your mouth is on him—warm, wet, and devastating. The moment your lips wrap around his cock, sucking him deep, his vision dots, pleasure attacking him so hard it nearly knocks the breath from his lungs.

His arm shoots out, palm slamming against the mirror. “Oh, fuck… shit—baby, I’m gonna—fuck!”

You don’t slow, don’t falter—your head bobs relentlessly, determination driving you. Jaemin’s cock throbs with every glide, every flick of your tongue, and when you glance up at him—God, he’s beautiful like this. Completely wrecked.

His sweet mouth turned sinful, spilling filthy curses between gasping breaths. His glossy eyes, dilated and cloudy, drink in the sight of you. Pink lips part, and tremble, because he’s so utterly lost in the satisfaction you’re giving him. Until finally, his knees buckle, his hand slips from the mirror, and with a broken moan, he grips your head, holding you in place as his hips stutter—shattering—while he spills down your throat.

You don’t waste a drop—you take it all. The first spurt hits the depths of your throat, warm and salty, and you swallow without hesitation. Jaemin’s body jerks, shuddering through the aftershocks, broken moans filling the air. Slowly, you pull back, his cock slipping from your mouth, leaving a thin trail of cum on your lips. You want to lick them clean, let your tongue dart out to catch every last drop—but he doesn’t let you.

His thumb gently brushes your lips, gathering up the rest of his release that you couldn’t swallow. He presses it to your mouth, rubbing slow and teasing, until you part your lips for him. You take his thumb into your mouth, sucking it clean, making a show of licking up every last drop, relishing the taste. At least you didn’t get anything on his clothes—that would have been a nightmare.

When he finally pulls his thumb from your mouth, he sighs, his body relaxing as he comes down from the high. He reaches out to pull you to your feet, and you smile up at him.

“Look at that,” you tease, nodding toward the small blue clock on the wall. “Two whole minutes.”

He groans, “Ugh… don’t remind me.”

You laugh, teasing, “Told you, I can do a lot in fifteen minutes. It’s a gift.”

Almost like a switch has been flipped, your words spark something wolfish in his eyes, and before you can process anything else, he’s pressing his mouth into yours, pushing you back against the cool glass of the mirror.

You gasp, breathless, “Jaem—what are you—”

“Making the most of my fucking fifteen minutes. I have thirteen left, no?”

“But I thought you were in a hurry—”

He cuts you off, his grip tightening around you as he presses you harder into the surface. “Put your fucking hands on the mirror, Y/N, and lift up your dress. I’m fucking you.”

You don’t protest, because it’s his turn now. His turn to wreck you, to possess you, to scramble your mind until you’re nothing but a puddle beneath him. You place your hands on the mirror, feeling the cool glass beneath your palms. It contrasts sharply with Jaemin’s firm, heated grip on your hips and his fingers that are digging into your skin.

Making the most of his seconds, Jaemin slams into you from behind, his cock driving deep inside your pussy, movements fast and urgent. You squirm, suddenly reminded of the fact that you're in his dressing room, just a few feet away from the backstage crew. Quickly, you pull one hand away from the mirror to cover your mouth and stifle the sounds he’s about to work out of you.

Jaemin fucks into you fast. It makes you breathless, the glass fogging up around your hand as he pounds and pounds. The rhythm is frantic, the strokes short and sharp. The sound of your bodies slapping together echoes through the room, filthy, wet smacks that are almost obscene.

The two of you have never had sex like this before—though you’re definitely not complaining. It’s messy. It’s rushed. It’s wild. And it feels so damn good. His hands are everywhere—gripping your breasts, your ass, your thighs through rustled fabric. His time may be counting down, but he still needs to touch every inch of you as he moves inside you.

“Look at how well you take me, baby,” he breathes, his teeth grazing your ear, nipping at the lobe. “Look at how perfect we fit together. Made for each other, yeah?”

You nod eagerly, your breath hitching as you whisper, “Yes.”

“Exactly,” he groans, “So damn perfect for each other. You’re gonna make me cum again, baby.”

The mirror shows a distorted reflection of Jaemin's face, twisted in pure ecstasy. His eyes are shut, mouth parted in a silent scream as he fucks you relentlessly like an animal. You feel the sweat dripping down his face, the tension rippling through his body as he chases his release.

“Not yet,” you beg, “Please, Jaem, not yet. We have six more minutes.”

He doesn’t know why he can’t hold himself back now—he usually enjoys long, drawn-out sex. It’s his favourite. But everything feels too overwhelming, too good. You, here, on tour, with the clock ticking, the stakes, it all turns him on for no reason at all. But nothing—and he means nothing—gets him harder than the thought of pleasing you.

So, he holds back, gritting his teeth as he fucks you raw, resisting the urge to be greedy. Lets himself soak in the feeling of your warm, wet walls pulling him in instead.

And damn, it’s worth it—always so damn worth it to watch you melt beneath him, needing him to hold you up as your body trembles. Your orgasm hits you hard, making your pussy clench around him desperately. Jaemin is only human, and he can’t hold on any longer, not with you pulsing around him.

He groans with a final thrust of his own. “Fuck—”

Looks like you both can do a lot in fifteen minutes.

#nct smut #jaemin smut #nct dream smut #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #jaemin x reader #nct hard hours #nct scenarios #nct one shot #kpop smut #nct dream hard hours

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flwrstqr · 3 months ago

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✧ ENHYPEN WHEN THEY CHECK YOU OUT ╰—— "𝗂'𝗆 𝗌𝗈 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗂 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾"

𝑜𝑓 · 𝖲𝖧𝖮𝖶𝓉𝖨𝖬𝖤 ⦂ bf!enhypen x f!r 17OOwc. ── est relationship, skinship, slightly suggestive ｡｡ ⠀fluff ✦ 𝓒ATALOGUE ♡ ◞

DANi : hope you guys enjoy (> <)

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚 heeseung’s gaze lingers a little too long, a playful smirk tugging at his lips when he catches you looking back. “what? can’t a guy admire his gorgeous baby?” he teases. his hand finds its way to your waist, thumb brushing lightly against your side as he pulls you a fraction closer. “you know, you’re making it really hard for me to focus when you look this good,” he murmurs. he chuckles softly, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. “seriously, angel, how am i supposed to keep my cool when you’re out here looking like that?” he winks.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚 jay’s fingers tap lazily on the steering wheel as he drives, the soft hum of the car filling the space between you. every now and then, you catch him glancing your way, but this time, his gaze lingers longer, shamelessly trailing over your face, down to your lips, and then back up again. “you’re really something else, you know that?” he murmurs, voice low but warm, like it’s a thought that slipped out. his free hand reaches over to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the soft brush of his fingers against your skin, “how am i supposed to focus when you’re sitting there looking like that, princess?” he grins, his eyes crinkling just slightly at the corners. the way he looks at you—like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡 jake leans against the doorway, arms crossed, watching you fix your hair in the mirror for the third time. “you’re really trying to knock everyone out tonight, huh?” he teases. when you turn to look at him, he gives an exaggerated whistle, his eyes flickering over your outfit before settling on your face with a mischievous grin. “damn, babe, are you sure you’re not trying to ruin me tonight? ‘cause i don’t think i’ll survive seeing you like this all night.” he pushes off the doorframe and walks over, adjusting the strap of your outfit. “you know,” he adds, tilting his head with a playful smirk, “you might wanna take it easy on the rest of the crowd. i’m already struggling, and they haven’t even seen you yet.”

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡 sunghoon’s hand rests on your waist as the two of you wait for the elevator, his thumb absentmindedly brushing against the fabric of your dress. you’re too busy fixing your lip gloss in the reflection of your phone to notice the way his gaze lingers, flickering over you from head to toe. “you’re really trying to make it hard for me to focus tonight, huh?” he says, voice smooth, though the slight hitch at the end betrays him. when you glance up at him, raising an eyebrow, he only smirks, playing it off like he isn’t the least bit affected. “what?” he shrugs, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your temple. “just saying, baby, you look so good it’s distracting.” the doors open, and he guides you inside.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢 sunoo’s gaze is anything but subtle, eyes flickering up and down as a small, mischievous grin tugs at his lips. “looking good, baby,” he hums, leaning in close enough for his breath to tickle your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “you do this on purpose, don’t you?” he teases, tilting his head to get a better look at you, eyes shining with playful affection. his hand slides down to give your fingers a gentle squeeze. “can’t blame me for staring when you look that good,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before pulling away with a wink. “come on, we’ve got places to be — unless you wanna stand here and let me admire you all day.”

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡 jungwon notices it before you do — the way a few passing glances linger on you just a little too long. his jaw shifts, but instead of saying anything, he quietly shrugs off his jacket. “here, love,” he says softly, draping it over your shoulders with gentle hands. “not ‘cause you don’t look perfect,” he adds quickly, lips quirking into a small smile as he adjusts the collar for you. “you just look too good, and i’d rather keep that all to myself,” he says with a playful tilt of his head. his fingers brush against your arm before slipping into your hand, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin. “ready to go, pretty girl?” he asks.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜 riki leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and a stupid grin plastered on his face as he checks you out. “who are you trying to impress, baby?” he drawls. you roll your eyes, smoothing the fabric down and refusing to meet his gaze. “shut up, riki. maybe i just want to look good for myself.” he chuckles, pushing off the frame and walking over to you, his hands casually resting on your waist. “uh-huh, sure. it’s definitely not for that guy who looked at you last week.” you glare at him through the mirror, smacking his hand lightly. “you’re insufferable.” he just grins wider, dipping his head to brush his nose against your temple. “and yet, here you are, stuck with me. lucky, huh?” you groan, but the warmth in your smile gives you away.

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robertpattersonsleftcoochieflap · 5 months ago

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Genshin Impact headcanons

BIG TITTIE COMMITTEE

Itto, Kaeya, Alhaitham, Childe & Wriothsley

Contents: Big tiddie men react to you (their partner) shoving your face in their tiddies.

Warnings: men tiddies, suggestive content, slight nsfw, fluff

Itto

"Hey, babe- What are you doing?" Itto laughed in surprise at your sudden affection. You feel his hard chest rumble as he laughs, making you nuzzle your face between his pecks. Both of your hands reach up and grope his muscular pecks, lightly squeezing them.

"Woah there! Getting handsy are we? Two can play at that game, baby." Itto reached down and grabbed you by the waist with two large, strong hands and easily hoisted you up so your own chest was level with his face.

"Hey! I was enjoying myself there!" You whined at him, giggling lightly at his fluffy white hair tickling you as he nuzzled his face between your breasts. He stopped and looked up at you with a smirk.

"Don't worry, I got something else for you to enjoy."

Did I mention that he has nipple piercings?

Kaeya

You were truly at your wits end with Kaeya. All day you'd been watching him strut in and out of your office, delivering you paperwork in his usual outfit. Only throughout the day, you had noticed something strange. Every time you saw him, his undershirt seemingly became lower and lower. He'd also made sure to bend over your desk every time he passed you your work, giving you full view down his shirt.

You'd finally had enough by the end of the day. It was late and everyone in the knights of Favonious' headquarters had gone home -- besides the usual knights that guarded the front entrance, yourself and of course Kaeya. You had just finished signing your final piece of paperwork when your blue-haired partner slinked through your door.

"Finished yet?" You looked at him, immediately taking note of his teasing smirk.

"Not yet." You paused, your eyes dropping down to his semi-bare chest, "There's still something I need to do." You look back up into his eye. You motioned him over with a single finger. Once he stood before you, you grip him by his ridiculously slender waist and pull him into your lap, finally burrowing your face into his firm-but-ample chest.

"My, my~ It seems somebody has been struggling today." Kaeya mused, his arms hugging your shoulders. He knew exactly what he was doing, teasing you all day. You groan into the valley between his pecks.

"Kaeya, you're truly evil." He laughed at your defeated tone.

"I know." With that, he pulls you up into a kiss.

Alhaitham

Alhaitham was perched in his usual reading corner when you arrived home from class. He greeted you and continued his reading. You had a very long and tiresome day at the academia that day. It seemed like nothing you did was right and it made you want to crawl into a hole and cry. You needed your boyfriend.

Alhaitham looks up at you as you approach him. "Can I touch you?" You ask, knowing sometimes your boyfriend gets a little overstimulated after a long day at the academia.

His eyes scan over you for a moment before he sets his book down and moves himself into a more comfortable position to accommodate you. "Of course." You immediately fall onto his lap and bury your head into his chest, his pecks making for a good pillow to rest your head and his heartbeat calming your soul. You close your eyes and just listen, enjoying the calm ambience.

"Has something happened today?" He asks. You shake your head and mumble, "Jus' needed you." You look up from his chest and see a light blush dusting his ears and face. His strong arms tighten around your body and he gently kisses your forehead.

No more words were exchanged for a while after that. You both just enjoyed the quiet ambience of each others company...

That was until Kaveh came home after his class and complained both your ears off about a project he was assigned.

(Autistic Alhaitham is real.)

Childe

Despite your husband being a fearsome harbinger of the fatui, he was gentle with you. Even during your episodes of play fighting. Ajax laughed loudly as you attempt to tackle him to your shared bed. He'd just made it back home from his business trip to Liyue and you were eager to get your hands on your ginger partner.

You had missed him dearly, but you also understood that his work was extremely important and he even had to complete quests asked of him by the beloved Tsaritsa herself. "I swear I'm going to lock you up so you cannot leave me again." You wrapped your arms and legs around his sturdy body, nuzzling your face into his neck and taking in his familiar scent.

Ajax chuckled and hugged you tighter. "Alright." He sat you both down on the bed where you finally pulled away to take in his appearance. You raised an eyebrow.

"A harness, Ajax? This is what the fatui have you wearing?" You tugged on his chest harness, enjoying the way his body came forward with it. "Yes, they do. Got a problem with that?" He asked, amused by the question.

"Perhaps I really should lock you away." Your hands ran over his chest, admiring the way it looked with the harness tightened around it. You flatten your hand in the middle of his chest and shove him down, leaning over to look him in the eye. "Can't have anyone else seeing you this."

The ginger raised an eyebrow and smirked, watching as you stared at his chest with a glazed look in your eyes. That's when you begin unbuttoning his shirt, making sure to leave the harness on. Once his shirt is unbuttoned, that is when you strike.

You waste no time shoving your face into his pecs, gripping them with both your hands and squeezing them together. Ajax laughs, his hands rub up and down your waist, as you continue your assault. That's when you bite. His whole body twitches and he lets out a yelp. "H-hey!" This does not deter you though. You've been without this man for weeks and you're determined to get your fill of him. You nip, suck and bite across his chest, leaving marks in your path. By the end of it, your husband was thoroughly ruffled, his face sporting a deep blush and his chest and neck covered in marks left by you. You sat up and smirked in satisfaction with your work. You meet his half lidded eyes.

"Take off your clothes.... Leave the harness on though."

You'd truly never seen this man move faster.

Wriothesley

You had been pissing Wriothesley off all day. You'd made it your objective today to see how long it would take him to crack before he punished you -- And you were doing a hell of a good job of it.

The Duke was at his wits end with you. You'd purposely been flaunting around his office all day in your skimpiest clothes and talking back to him. Making sexual innuendos at every possible opportunity and even going as far as to flirt with guards in front of him. It was an hour away from lights out and he was almost done with his paperwork when you sauntered out of your shared bedroom, and back into his office. He immediately gritted his teeth. You were in nothing but one of his dress shirts.

You were thoroughly enjoying the reactions you so easily drew out of your husband. It was immensely entertaining to you. Especially since there was little to do in the Fortress of Meropide. I mean, what did he expect locking you down here?

You sauntered your way over to him, taking no notice of the work he was doing and drape yourself across his lap. He let out a deep growl of your name. You only smirk up at him in response and play with the tie around his neck, tugging on it.

"What's wrong with you today?" He grumbled out, his tone frustrated.

"Bored," You say nonchalantly. "And I want attention." You run your finger down his chest, picking at the dip in his dress shirt. Wriothesley let out a groan. "So you've distracted me all day? Because you wanted attention?"

You grinned up at him, "Yep." You said, popping the P. He let out a sigh and shook his head at your ridiculousness. "Well, I have a few more things to do. Do not distract me." You didn't reply.

The Duke continued to do his work, ignoring you completely. You pouted. Then an idea bloomed in your head and your gaze dropped down to the muscular chest before you.

Wriothesley let out a yelp. You were too busy groping him to notice. You had your face shoved between his tits, rubbing your face in the grey chest hair between them, your hands slipped into his shirt, squeezing and pulling at his pierced nipples.

"Okay, that's it." He gripped the back of your collar and pulled you out of his cleavage like a scolded kitten.

"Hey! I was busy-" You were cut off by him throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and storming off with you to your shared bedroom.

It was going to be a long night for you.

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astr-venus · 1 month ago

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｡⁠☆Loser Boyfriend｡⁠.ﾟ⁠+⁠

☆Cw: one use of "her", Mina calls you girl once, embarrassment, fluff, humor, rookie!prohero!deku

"Izuku, dude, no offense, but how did you land that?"

Izuku turns to Denki, looking just as lost as he does. There's a little flush on his cheeks and a wide eyed expression on his face. The boy looks like a confused baby dear, which truly only adds to Denki's confusion.

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"Teach me your ways." Denki says, comically whipping out a notepad from his pants pocket. "Did you grovel? Cry? Feed her a love potion but disguise it as juice so that she would drink it, but have no clue what it was?"

"N-No of course not!... And I'm pretty sure that would be illegal anyway..."

Denki shrugs, "Hey I don't know your life. You could be into some weird shit on the down low, you seem the type!"

Izuku responds with an eye roll. If anyone 'seems the type' it's Mineta and Denki himself. They turn back towards you instead of continuing the conversation. You're still in the same position you were in before; fully leaned over the back of the couch, legs closed with one slightly hanging in the air, while the rest of you is inside Mina's personal space giggling at something she's showing you on her phone.

You're in some cute little outfit that Izuku helped you pick out, a rare case, since Izuku still wears almost exclusively punny t-shirts and sweats. The only reason he helped is because it's your first time meeting his friends and former classmates, you just wanted to make sure the outfit wasn't too little or too much. This is not to say he was much help.

Izuku feels almost entranced by you, and you're not even looking at him. You haven't glanced his way since Mina took your attention, actually. Izuku could start pouting if he wasn't too busy ogling your backside. He's so busy he misses the picture Denki snaps at the enraptured look on his face.

"C'mon man, let's go raid the snacks before Kaachan forces us to leave the kitchen."

Denki's arm around Izuku's shoulder shakes him out of his stupor and he nods in agreement, not really having heard what he said at all. He allows Denki to lead him to the kitchen with only minimal glancing behind his back, just to get a little more time to soak in your image.

But he doesn't expect your eyes to catch. He has no time to prepare for the heat in his pink cheeks to spread to his ears, no time to prepare for your smile to make his heart thump in his chest. It makes him lightly stumble in his steps and turn to face forward again, feeling incredibly embarrassed.

"Oh, Izu! Can you come back for just a sec?"

Izuku breaks out of Denki's hold with not a single lick of hesitation, embarrassment be damned. His world shortens and zooms in when you talk, the feeling of embarrassment, as well as Denki's voice, becomes muffled in the face of it. None of that matters if you're the one who needs him.

"Look at this picture Mina has of you!"

It's the picture All Might took of him before he bulked up. The one where he's dirty and sweating and crying after trying to haul a fridge across a beach. Izuku thinks he might die. Where did she even get that picture?

His face must say a lot, because both you and Mina burst out laughing. You're trying to reassure him, but you're laughing so hard you're struggling to gain a breath to string words together. If the floor swallowed Izuku whole right now, he would be grateful. It was a terrible idea to bring you to meet his classmates, especially a gossip like Mina.

"Oh, baby no, don't look like that!" You gasp, placing a hand on his shoulder. It's not nearly as comforting as you're trying to make it be.

"Izuku you look like a total loser, good thing you gained some muscle there, pipsqueak!" Mina chortles.

"Oh stop it! He doesn't look like a... Loser... I think it's cute!"

"Keep telling yourself that!"

Izuku has never considered the merits of getting hit by a bus before, now is a better time than ever to start.

Your arms wrap around him, and he instinctually hugs you back. You press your still smiling face into his chest, and turn towards Mina, still a little breathless.

"It's okay Izuku, I'll protect you from Mina's mean words." You giggle.

Mina is quick to start booing you, but Izuku doesn't miss the picture of him being sent to an unsaved number in her phone. Oh she's going to get it next time they spare together, and he will make absolutely sure it is soon. She doesn't get to run away from the enemy she has created today.

"Whose side are you even on, girl?" Mina huffs playfully, turning back to her phone and sitting back down on the couch.

The party goes smoothly after that, mostly because Izuku doesn't leave your side for the rest of the night. He refuses to let any of his other classmates show you blackmail. Even when you go to the bathroom he stands right outside the door, waiting for you to come back. At one point during the night Katsuki told him he looks like a stray puppy, and before he could deny it, you responded, "it's cute, part of his charm". He elected to ignore the way it made his chest puff out.

He likes to believe you think of him less as a puppy and more of a guard dog. He will not be confirming or denying this with you.

Before long, the party is over. Despite the little mishap with Mina earlier, he's satisfied. You were both fed well, and you very clearly had a good time with his friends, so he considers the night a success. He knew that you'd been nervous about the whole thing, his reassurances hadn't done much to sway you, but you had a great time. Just like he said you would.

As he's pulling the car out of the driveway, you turn to him, a mischievous smile spread across your face. Izuku hopes you don't notice how heavily he swallows when you look at him, your expression is making him nervous.

"Mina sent me that picture of you."

The car lurches as he slams on the brakes. "She gave you her phone number?! Noo she's gonna show you how much of a loser I am!" He whines, putting his head into the steering wheel.

"Izu, my love, you are a bonafide prohero who's about to hit the top 30 barely two years out of highschool, you are not a loser."

Izuku turns to you with a wobbly smile, forehead still lying on the steering wheel. "U-Uhm no, I totally am. Hero work aside."

You giggle, his heart stutters again.

"Well you're my loser then."

"Yours?" Izuku flushes.

"Mine."

And well, being a loser isn't so bad if it means he gets to be yours. Your boyfriend. Your guard dog. Your puppy. Your loser. Your anything. He can be anything, as long as he's yours.

Love men who are losers and very smitten for their sweethearts, what can I say

｡⁠☆Requests open

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suiana · 1 year ago

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✎ yandere! mean boy . . .

✎ yandere! mean boy who's one of the most popular guys in the entire university. he's hot, smart, rich... he was perfect! ...but of course, he had a bad side to him as well. a side that you knew too well but others didn't. have i mentioned that he's only mean to you?

✎ yandere! mean boy who makes your university life as hard as he can. from minor inconveniences like bumping into you, to trying to ruin your reputation by gossiping about you to his friends. you're starting to wonder if he likes you? i mean, why else would he do this? you're not even in the same major! spoiler alert, he does like you. wow, who knew 🤯 ps, his friends are annoyed whenever he brings you up because once he starts talking about you he can't stop 💀

✎ yandere! mean boy who is very obviously in love with you. yeah, sure he might try to ruin your life but... he also spoils you! i mean, don't you see those gifts he left in your room? the new outfits in your closet? or the way your grades suddenly rose? that's all him! so... you should fall for him too now, right? boy is delusional 🔥🔥

✎ yandere! mean boy who's completely obsessed with you. unfortunately, poor fella doesn't know how to process his feelings and only shows disdain to you openly. if only you knew of the way his heart quickens every time you glance at him, or the way he jerks off to you to the numerous pictures he secretly took which are plastered on the walls of his mansion... he's such an idiot! when all he wants to do is worship you, he insults you instead :( not to worry... he'll be openly worshipping you soon enough. soon...

"watch your step."

he hisses as he glares at you. you only roll your eyes, continuing on your way to your lecture hall as you text your friend. seriously, this day was already bad and he just had to be here to worsen it? what luck you had.

you quicken your pace, trying to get to your location faster which only resulted in the university's mean boy (correction, he's only mean to you, so he's a secret mean boy) scowling and stomping right over to you.

"i said, watch your step!"

he yells out, grabbing your shoulder roughly as he turns around to face you. his hands shake slightly, still gripping onto your shoulder as his cheeks brun red. was it from anger or embarrassment? you'd never know. all he ever shows you is his disdain after all.

you stare at him with an irritated expression, eyeing him up and down before apologizing half-heartedly.

"sorry."

you then try shrugging his hand off you, clearly more annoyed than worried as the male continues to stare at you with an unreadable expression. cheeks flushed as he roughly takes his hand away before stomping off like an angry child. you merely shake your head at his actions. what a drama king he was.

jeez, he really is weird. always targeting you, and you only... what did you even do to get on his nerves? all you wanted was a peaceful university life! with good grades and a nice set of friends, and maybe even a lover if you were lucky! but no, he just had to have it out for you every. single. day.

and yet, he always seems to have a red flush on his cheeks whenever he does so. and the multiple times you've passed his friend group he always seems to be talking about you. is he bipolar? does he secretly like you? is he a tsundere?

you grumble slightly as you quickly rush off to your lecture. damn, he made you late. what an annoying guy.

meanwhile, your secret mean boy was struggling to contain his screams as he hid behind a wall after stomping off. with laboured breaths, flushed cheeks and hearts for pupils, he giggled like a patient from the mental hospital.

ah..! you touched him! touched him! if he imagines hard enough, he can pretend you're gently carressing him! that you're looking at him just like he looks at you!

he shakily stares at the hand you swatted away, smile errily wide as soft giggles escape him. ah, you're so cute when you look at him like that... when you look at him in irritation... would you look like that when he exposes the fact that he loves you? or when you're married and he accidentally burns his food? would you push him away and quickly cook up another meal?

he giggles like a high school girl in love, breathing growing increasingly erratic as he places both his hands over his chest.

ah...

he wants to touch you again.

he wants to see more of your expressions.

he wants you.

and he will have you.

whether you like it or not.

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere reader insert #yandere character x reader #original character x reader #yandere mean boy #yandere mean boy x reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

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fou4summer · 24 days ago

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Private lesson

yoo jaeyi × fem!reader

Synopsis: Struggling in class and on the brink of failure, your teacher offers to help by finding you a tutor. You politely decline multiple times, but someone joins the conversation offering to help you. The schools most popular girl, and your secret crush, Yoo Jaeyi.

Warnings: smut!, fingering, praise kink

Genre: Smut

Word count: 1.8k

The bell finally rang after what felt like hours. As you were about to leave, your biology teacher called you over to his desk. As you slightly bowed he nodded after starting. "Y/N, your grades are falling, and you were my best student. Do you want me to look for a tutor to help you out?" You shook your head the moment he was done talking. He sighs as he closes his laptop before standing up. "Y/N, its not embarassing to have lessons, biology is a hard subject at your age. This is your last year, so I think its the best to have someone explain those to you." He points at the book. "Teacher I can do it myse-" You get cut off mid sentence.

"I can tutor Y/N, it would be my pleasure." You knew who that was just from her voice that you were obsessed with. Yoo Jaeyi, your secret crush for almost three years now. She was schools number one in everything. Her father was powerful and rich so she could have whatever she wanted and everyone loved her. You always admired her when she wasn't looking and you would often get lost in your thoughts about her until your teacher calls you out to answer one of his questions, but you always kept quiet. In those moments Jaeyi would often turn around and just smile at you.

"Yoo Jaeyi, a prince on the white horse-actually a princess, but whatever. Y/N, you should thank Jaeyi for saving you from failling biology!" You didn't know what to say, as you definitely can't say no to her. You would miss an insane offer.

"I-I mean thank you so much Jaeyi. It m-means so much!" You said while yelling at yourself in your head for stuttering so much. She just smiles before teacher leaves your classroom leaving you two alone. You didn't dare to look up as you felt her staring at you.

"I shou- I should get going probably, yeah..." You turned around going back to your desk, but she went right after you. You were putting your books in your backpack, your hands shaky from talking to Jaeyi for too long. You bet no one was this insane over a simple crush. Or maybe more. Cause you were in love for so long that you imagined her doing not so 'classmates' things to you. Now you were snapped from your dirty thoughts by Jaeyi tapping your shoulder.

"Can I get your number? For tutoring, of course." She held her phone out waiting for your number. You stared confused for a few seconds before taking it. You put your number in giving it back to her, an awkward smile on your face.

The days passed and friday finally came. Thats the day Jaeyi planned the tutoring session. You cleaned your entire apartment where you two will be studying, or actually just you. You also prepared some snacks if she wanted to eat something, cause you weren't a good cook for sure.

The bell rang and your heart almost stopped beating. You were in some casual sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt. You regretted wearing those cause when you opened the door, you felt embarassed by your outfit. Jaeyi was wearing a dark red suit with a black button-up shirt underneath. This was the first time you saw her out of the school uniform, and you wished you could see her more often in clothes like those. You nodded before letting her come in. When she walked past you, her scent hit you making you almost pass out.

"Y/N, did you hear what I just said?" Your cheeks grew red with embarrassment as she got you out of your thoughts once again. You apologized before asking her to repeat.

"I asked what topic do you need help with?" She said her voice deep but soothing. You show her what you didn't understand and she nods but you felt her taking glances at you while you talked. You both sit down as she places the books on the table before you eventually start. You couldn’t concentrate at all. The way she smelled, like cigarettes and vanilla, wrapped around you, clouding your thoughts. It was a strange mix, familiar yet intoxicating, and it lingered in the air like a silent invitation. It was pulling you in closer, making everything else feel distant and unimportant.

You were studying for hours and she really knew how to explain everything. Eventually she got tired so she looks at you before asking.

"Do you mind if I step out for a smoke?" Her hand on your back jerked you back to the present as she stood up from her seat. You awkwardly nod as you open the balcony for her. She left you some notes to read so you can understand everything you learned even better. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from her.

How her hands looked while holding a cigarette, or how her body looked in that suit. As you admired her precious figure, she slowly turned her head around to look at you. You quickly looked back at the notes in your lap pretending to read them. You heard her throw the cigarette off the balcony before stepping back into your apartment smirking. You noticed something was off, then you realized what was it. Her black button-up shirt was now unbuttoned by two buttons. Underneath, she wore a white lacy bra, the delicate fabric contrasting against the dark shirt.

"Y/N, did you take a look at the notes I left you?" Her voice was deeper than usual. You mumbled a quick yes before looking at your hands again avoiding her gaze. She then lifts your head so you are looking directly in her eyes.

"You should look me in the eyes when we talk…or is it because you thought something dirty about me, and now you can't?" Your eyes widened at her words, a flutter of heat settling in your lower stomach. You could feel your heart race, your mind spinning as the air between you thickened with unspoken tension.

"I-No of course!" You start brushing your sweaty hands on your sweatpants. You felt her hand settle on top of yours before she grabs it and places it on the next button of her shirt. Your hands tremble as she grabs the biology book with her free one. She opens the book finding the questions on the last page.

"For every question you get right, you can unbutton one of these... hm? Of course, you can get them all wrong, and we’ll just forget this ever happened." Chills ran down your spine as she whispered. When she saw your nod, a smile spread across her face. The first question was easy, so you answered quickly. She glanced at your hand on her chest, still unmoving. Then, she took your other hand from your lap, guiding it to unbutton the next button.

"Relax princess..." You felt yourself getting wet just from the name she called you. She started reading the next question like nothing happened. She had a serious look on her face so you concentrated to get the answer right. The next one was also easy, its like she was doing it on purpose. The way she took glances and the tension became unbearable. You couldn't take it anymore. You took the book from her lap replacing it with yourself. The look on her face was turning you on even more. The way her eyes widened when you wrapped your arms around her neck, but her hands found your waist immediately, pulling you closer.

"Impatient hm?" She mumbled against your neck. You were so turned on you grabbed her face and kissed her passionately. When you broke the kiss catching your breath she helped you take your shirt off, throwing it on the floor. You took her hand leading her to your bedroom. As you reached the bed, you laid down as she unbuttoned the rest of the buttons on her shirt not taking her eyes off you.

"You look so beautiful..." You mumbled but it was loud enough for her to hear. Her eyes were filled with lust as she crawled on top of you. She was playing with the waistband of your sweatpants while looking into your eyes for approval. You nodded as you pulled her into a kiss. She pulled your pants down as you arched your back so she can unclasp your bra too. You felt yourself getting more wet as she did it with one hand. She stared at your chest before she started leaving kisses all over it. She was kissing her way down till she reached your underwear. You were squirming under her touch.

"Fuck Jaeyi...I need you so bad..please.." You moaned out as she unbuckled her belt before tugging her pants off in desperation. "Jaeyi will take care of you, my princess." That was the last thing she said before pulling your panties down to your ankles with her teeth. Then she rose to capture your lips in a deep, heated kiss. You whimpered as you felt her long fingers slide against your wetness. She didn't even warn you as she slips her finger inside you, making you moan her name out loud while digging your nails into her back.

You were a moaning mess as her fingers kept fucking you for hours now. You came over three times but she kept going while saying. "Come on princess give me one more hm?" As she fucked your brains out. With every thrust, she pounded into you, hitting your deepest spots. She curled her fingers inside you which sent waves of pleasure through your body.

"I'm so close Jaeyi! Pleas-fuck!" You barely managed to get the words out the orgasm struck before you could finish your sentence, crashing over you in an intense rush. When the intensity of your climax started to fade, she didn’t stop.

Her fingers kept moving, gentle and soothing, helping you come down until your breath evened out and your body relaxed. She licked her fingers clean before pulling you in for a passionate kiss allowing you to taste yourself. As Jaeyi laid down, you immediately rested your head on her chest while she drew circles on your arm with her fingers.

"Lets keep these lessons private, Y/N." You chuckled at her statement before nodding, making her laugh too.

You later found out that Jaeyi liked you for so long, but she never wanted to admit it. You still continued having 'lessons' with her, but as girlfriends. Of course you are keeping your relationship a secret for now.

#yoo jaeyi #yoo jaeyi fic #fem reader #kdrama #wlw #lee hyeri #lee hyeri fic

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obsessivevoidkitten · 11 months ago

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The Concert

Yandere Male Alpha x Gender Neutral Omega Reader CW: Noncon, crybaby reader, a/b/o dynamics, kidnapping, knotting, biting, musk and pheromones, general yandere behavior Word count: 481 (Just popped into my head, hope y'all like this mini-meal)

You were an omega and your beta bestie had convinced you to go to a punk rock concert. It wasn't really your type of music but your friend really wanted you to go. They promised you'd have fun

You were not having fun.

Your friend had very quickly abandoned you in this huge outdoor crowd of people to go make out with some random guy. Now you were alone, the loud music and large amount of people distressing you greatly.

It was evident in your scent and made you an easy target for a horny alpha looking for just such a vulnerable omega like you.

You jolted as a hand touched your shoulder.

"Sup cutie, I'm Sid."

He was a large man in his early 20s. His smell was potent, even among the scents of the crowd, it made you more than a bit dizzy. You stammered out your name nervously to be polite and tried to inch away.

"Hey don't be like that sweet thing, you smell overwhelmed. How about we go relax in my van? Do you smoke?"

"Uh, no, sorry. That's not really my thing."

Growing increasingly uncomfortable you tried to move away more quickly. You had a feeling that if you went with him you'd never come back.

He grabbed your wrist firmly.

"Hey, don't be like that! We can relax by doing other things. Got a nice knot you can bounce on."

"Let me go!"

You couldn't hold it back any longer and began to sob and cry.

"I can't in good conscience just leave an unattended unclaimed omega that smells as good as you do here all by yourself. Someone might try and snatch you up. You really should come with me."

You tried to struggle out of his grip, to scream. But the couple of people that noticed what the alpha was doing either turned away, not wanting to get involved or gave Sid a thumbs up since he was about to score.

Sid picked you up and carried you to his van, tossing you on a mattress in the back of it. You were sobbing too hard to speak coherently. He peeled your clothing off and bit your neck hard, permanently marking you.

“You’re pretty even when you cry.”

True to his word, he bounced you on his thick knot until you were relaxed, if only because of the exhaustion of going at it for so long. You finally cried yourself to sleep, slumped against his chest with his knot still embedded deep within you.

When he finally slipped out he put his overly large sweaty clothing on you, instinctively cloaking you in his scent, and then put on a spare outfit that he kept for emergencies. After that he tied you up and started the long drive home, because he definitely wasn’t letting his new omega go. Best concert ever… for him…

#yandere x reader #my ocs #yandere a/b/o #yandere alpha x omega reader #gender neutral reader #male yandere x gn reader #yandere boyfriend #omega reader #yandere alpha #My OC Sid

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waves-realm · 2 months ago

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Atsumu, Sakusa, Suna, and Tsukishima reacting to their girlfriend wearing something revealing on a date

Atsumu Miya

Atsumu loves it. The moment he sees you in that outfit, his jaw drops, and he lets out a long whistle.

“Damn, sweetheart, ya tryna kill me before dinner?” He’s shameless about checking you out, grinning like a fool.

He will 100% show you off, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you closer, and making sure everyone knows you’re with him.

If he notices other people staring too much, though, he gets a little possessive. Might throw an arm around your shoulders or kiss your temple just to make it clear you’re taken.

But mostly, he just hypes you up. “Hottest person in the whole damn place, and ya came here with me.”

Sakusa Kiyoomi

At first, he’s stunned silent. His eyes widen slightly, and he stares for a solid few seconds, taking in every detail.

He clears his throat and tries to act normal, but you can see the tips of his ears turning red. “You’re wearing that?”

He’s conflicted—on one hand, you look incredible, but on the other, he hates the idea of other people looking at you the way he does.

The entire date, he’s extra protective, walking close to you, guiding you with a hand on your lower back, and glaring at anyone who stares too long.

At some point, he mumbles, “You look amazing, but next time… maybe something less eye-catching.” He’s not even mad, just struggling.

Suna Rintarō

He raises a single eyebrow when he sees you, smirking. “Well, well, well. What’s the occasion?”

He loves it but plays it cool, teasing you just enough to get a reaction. “Trying to make me jealous? Or just making my job harder?”

If someone stares too much, he just gives them that look—the lazy, unimpressed stare that makes people immediately look away.

The entire night, he has his hand on you somewhere—your waist, your thigh, the small of your back. It’s casual, but there’s a definite you’re mine energy behind it.

At the end of the date, he leans in and murmurs, “Next time, you’re wearing that just for me.”

Tsukishima Kei

The moment he sees you, he pauses. His eyes drag up and down slowly, and then he just… scoffs. “Seriously?”

But don’t be fooled—he is definitely affected. His ears turn pink, and he keeps glancing at you when he thinks you won’t notice.

If you tease him about it, he’ll roll his eyes and say something sarcastic like, “I just don’t want to deal with every idiot staring at you all night.”

He acts annoyed, but he subtly adjusts his stance so he’s always between you and anyone staring too hard.

At the end of the night, when he thinks you’re not looking, he lets himself really admire you and mutters, “You really do look good, though.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #atsumu miya x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #suna rintaro x reader #tsukishima kei x reader

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missmimii · 2 months ago

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୨ৎ－𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐌𝐄 | 𝐂 －𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎

୨ৎ － 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | In which Chris leaves the reader craving more than the usual nods of approval, the girl begins to wonder—how far is she willing to go to hear the words she so desperately needs?

୨ৎ — 𝐂𝐖. 18+, Voyeur!Chris/Dom!Chris, praising, pet names, detailed sexual encounter, light degradation, face grabbing, fingering, dom + sub dynamics (and probably more but I’m tired.)

Chris knew Y/n.

The boy had liked watching her more than he’d ever care to admit. Almost as if she were his prey. Through their 8 gruelling years of friendship, Chris had chalked the girl down into one word. Perfect. She didn��t get angry, maybe frustrated, but never angry. He knew the way she blew her hair away from her nose when she was drawing, the way her hands wrung together when she was nervous－he even knew her favourite brand of lingerie to buy from. She was such a sweet little thing, timid and loving toward the boy since the day they’d met in middle school.

Chris had always been good at reading people, and with her, it hadn’t taken him long to figure out the girl’s little secret. It was in the way the girls’s eyes lit up whenever he tossed her a casual “Good job,” or how her cheeks flushed when he complimented her outfit, even if it was something simple. She tried to hide it—laughing off his words like they meant nothing—but the soft smile she couldn’t quite suppress always gave her away. It was subtle at first, but once he noticed, he couldn’t stop. And honestly? Watching her glow under his praise was something he didn’t mind one bit.

And use it to his advantage occasionally.

“Chris,” she sobbed out softly, tears gathering along her water-line as she started at him with a pitiful expression. The boy almost cooed at the sorrowful sight of the girl, sprawled out weakly, a hand between her thighs as she gently swirled her fingers around her fluttering hole.

She watched as Chris’s hooded eyes roamed her face along with the exceptional fleeting gaze to her glistening cunt, a hand running down his clenched jaw as he leaned back in the chair he used as a throne. If it weren’t for his raging, visible hard on, the girl would’ve almost thought he was bored.

His expression lacked any emotion, and she couldn’t decipher whether or not her body loved it－or hated it. “Please . . Please－” her head fell back onto his pillows, the tears that pleaded to fall finally descending down her flushed cheeks. She shakily ran the tips of her fingers down her soaked slit, pressing down gently－clueless on what to do.

The worst part was she could feel his eyes on her. Not only was she shy, but he was watching her suffer, and refused to help. “Keep going.” She sniffed at his words, almost wanting to shake her head as her hand shook. It didn’t feel like him. “You don’t want me to come the fuck over there.” He threatened. I kindaaa do, she thought to herself.

Holding the snarky remark, she slowly began to ease her middle finger inside of her pulsing heat, moaning gently. “Mm . . . That’s a good girl.” Fuck. A broken whine tore from her throat, making Chris chuckle as she worked her finger faster. It hurts so good, Chris thought to himself.

As much as he’d like to stalk over there and get on top of her －give it to her like no other, he felt an odd sense of pleasure in seeing her writhe, struggle. Chris’s throat bobbed as he palmed over his strained jeans, grunting under his breath as his eyes fluttered. God, he needed to fuck her.

Lost in her own pleasure, she didn’t even pick up on the sound of his steps getting closer to her sprawled out body, or the warmth of his larger stature beginning to melt atop hers. Chris chuckled softly to himself, seeing her parted lips, drool slipping from her beautiful mouth as she panted.

Her eyes shot open as a palm pressed over her mouth, gasp eliciting her lips as she met eyes with the brown haired boy. “Shhhhh . . .” Strands of his slightly－yet perfectly outgrown hair fell above his eyebrows. A dark look, sheer over his pupils as he deepened his gaze into her, boring into her shy ones with intensity.

“Look at me,” he demanded gently as her gaze faltered from his nervously. “Be a good girl and look at me, hm?” Chris hummed as her pupils dilated, automatically attached to his as the soft praise left his bitten lips. “Thasss’ a good baby,” she blinked slowly at his words her smaller hand coming up to grip onto his wrist for security. “Yeah, just like that.” Her eyes widened as she felt his other hand mold atop hers, guiding two of her fingers into her pussy slowly. “Hold on f’me.” Fuck.

Chris smirked sadistically, watching her eyes flutter and roll back, her teeth biting into his palm. “How’s that?” He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, hooded eyes glued to hers as his thumb rolled over her clit. “Better?” Chris mocked gently, leaning down and placing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Hm?” She attempted to get her words out, but they ended up a jumbled mess of incoherent sentences.

“Just shut up.”

A moan left her muffled lips, making Chris scoff. “You like that?” He ran his thumb across his cheek, before it met the supple skin of her bottom lip. Her chest heaved, no response leaving her mouth as he gazed into his eyes heavily.

Chris tilted his head, cooing ever so softly, as he felt the walls of her tight cunt squeezing around his long fingers. “Oh, baby.” A broken whine came from her lips, more tears falling as he lowered his lips to her ear. Chris’s jaw brushed against her’s, the curve of his perfect nose running down the angle of her pulse. “I almost would’ve felt bad if this wasn’t so pathetic.” He uttered gently, nipping at her neck.

Lost in a haze of pleasure, she barely even noticed how Chris’s fingers slowly released from her sopping heat. Right before she came. “Wait－wait－wait－please,” Her eyes batted open, hand fumbling to grab his wrist. Chris tutted softly, grabbing the hand and holding it above her head. “Ah, ah.” Chris practically pried her hands off of him. “I helped, now it’s your turn.”

He watched as a perplexed expression crossed her features. My turn? He was helping me, she thought. “Don’t argue.” He interjected before she could even utter a word. Chris stalked back to his seat, adjusting himself as he began to undo his belt. “What’re you waiting for, hm?” Chris tilted his head, jaw ticking with a smirk as he toyed with the buckle.

“Be a good girl and touch yourself.”

🏷️－୨ৎ－ @fratbrochrisgf @jetaimevous @sturniolosarethebest @stonermattsgf @st7rnioioss @endereies @pkfferoo @mqttittude @mattsbrowser @conspiracy-ash @sturnshood

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luminatricky · 4 months ago

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Vampire? In Gotham! (part 3)

Summary: the batfam have a meeting, Constantine got a little too lost in the sauce when crafting Danny's sob story, and we find out what Dracula's been up to all these years. Oh and the DC version of Vlad is fully dead? More at 9

Relationships: the batfam

on god I spent too much time thinking about danny's vampsona. he's got two outfits so far. no I didn't make a concept board. no I didn't make a picrew. I don't know what you're talking about

(sorry if this is all horribly ooc I struggled a bit with making this intelligible)

Red Hood doesn't usually leave Crime Alley. That's a known fact. But Batman doesn't usually call a meeting that includes Red Hood. The old man learned years ago not to involve him unless it's important with a capitol I.

Pulling into the Batcave, Jason slows to a stop on his motorcycle. He follows the voices of his family to the Batcomputer. Everyone is in full gear, but not everyone is fully present.

Dickhead was ransacking the medical room for...blood bags? Barbie and Replacement carved out a corner to the right of the main computer. They'd set up a foldable table for their personal laptops, sitting side by side as they quietly schemed together. Damian was working hard on some sort of artwork with a similar table to the left. He stuck his tongue out in concentration. Adorable.

Bruce was pulling up a very old case file in the central system. It looked to be a string of serial disappearances.

Jason wasn't the last to arrive for once. The elevator to the manor dings behind him. Alfred and the rest of the brood step out into the cave, carrying weapons and gadgets by the armful. Old looking Batarangs, glorified flashlights, cases upon cases of the anti-toxin epipens filled with unfamiliar blue formula. And wooden stakes.

Like a good grandson he steps up to help lighten Alfred's load, but he only gets two steps in before the old butler gives him a very disapproving eyebrow raise. Jason retreats with his hands up. He turns back to Bruce.

"This better be a bloodsucker apocalypse or you won't see me til Christmas."

Bruce pulls up a detailed list of the weapons and their uses on screen. Everyone stops what their doing and takes a picture with their phones. Garlic Batarangs, flashlights with artificial sunlight, a cure for vampirism. Wooden stakes need no introduction or explanation, except for why his dad - who is very against killing to put it fucking gently - would be giving them a vamp equivalent of a gun.

"Potentially," Bruce says. "We need to draw up new contingencies. But we also need to debrief so we have all the facts to do so."

Surprisingly, both Duke AND Tim groan. Jason understands Duke. The teen does not have the patience - ahem, attention - to learn all the contingencies at once. Which Bruce recently subjected him to from what he's gleaned from the sibling group chat.

But Tim? Making and learning ridiculous lists is the guy's bread and butter, the freak. So why -

"C'mon Bruce. What we know so far about the guy makes it seem he might be genuine. We do not have to plan a murder yet. Murder is messy - and wrong, definitely wrong." Tim tacks the last part on way too quickly for anyone here to believe that's what he actually feels. Hah. Another one straying off the path of the No Kill Rule. He can't wait to hear the details when one of their siblings interrogates him about it later.

Bruce exhales through his nose. He puts the previous topic away in favor of pulling up a picture of a middle-aged man with glacial blue eyes. His face is long and angular, and he wears old style European clothes that screams 'I'm an old rich vampire, come stake me'. Jason snorts - something about his face is so punchable.

"Dr. Alucard seemed genuine at first, too." He pulls up a picture of the same man, but this time with sunken in cheek bones. His salt and pepper hair is fully bleached, and his eyes glow unnervingly. It's a candid of him mid-fight in the Batcave, a furious snarl on his lips, baring some wicked fangs at a young Batman. "Or should I say, Dracula." He's answered with a round of gasps.

Jason's starting to see how every single one of them ended up as (melo)dramatic little shits.

He puts the pictures away. "Around the time when I was first starting out, the Penguin accidentally freed him from where he was sealed in Gotham's cemetery." Bruce begins. Jason wonders with a tight chest just what was wrong with that place. Why do the dead keep coming back to life there?

If he had a nickel...

Bruce pulls up the headlines of the 'Lost Ones' case. Jason opens his mouth to comment, but Dick beats him to it. "They seriously thought it was Batman? C'mon! How incompetent is the GCPD?"

Jason scoffs. "Says the fucking cop."

"Ex-cop, thank you. And I worked in Bludhaven before I figured out they were just as corrupted and rooting that out from the inside was a terrible plan."

"Anyone coulda told you that," Duke snarks. Jason backs him up. "Your problem is you always want to give people the benefit of the doubt when you shouldn't."

"Boys." Bruce interrupts. They all stop at the tone he uses. Alfred clears his throat, and answers Dick's rhetorical question from earlier. "That was unfortunately a common occurrence when Master B was a young bat. It would do you all well to be mindful of keeping your reputations positive amidst suspicion."

Jason doesn't laugh out of respect for Alfred - he was so not talking about him. He needs to do the opposite of spit rainbows out his ass to be effective.

"Oh my God is that why Bruce keeps gatekeeping everyone he meets? He's hazing them like a vigilante initiation ritual?" Steph whispers to Cass. He hears her softly laugh in response as she nods.

"I agree with Grayson. The GCPD are fools to think that if Father were a serial killer or trafficker that they'd ever even know. He is better than that." The demon brat brags.

Bruce huffs fondly. "It's a good thing I'm not." He gestures to the weapons. "We fought. He'd started turning people left and right, making them mind controlled vampire pawns. The Joker got turned-"

Jason's vision floods green. "And you didn't fucking stake him? Even more fucking dangerous -"

"-and I managed to capture him at a blood bank before he could do more than destruction of private property." Bruce raises his voice over him. Jason clenches and unclenches his fists. He itches to shoot something, to break something, to get relief to this God forsaken green-flavored, rage-filled pressure starting to boil over in his chest at the reminder of his murderer.

Blessedly everyone shuts the fuck up as he tries to not blow his top. Bruce should've staked him. He had the perfect excuse all lined up, and the opportunity, and goddamit Barbara wouldn't be in a wheelchair and Duke's parents would be fine and Jason wouldn't have come back evil -

Bruce isn't and wasn't evil, he reminds himself. Not like Jason is. And it's not helpful to blame him for his nature right now when they need to fucking debrief. Woulda-coulda-shoulda's are for chumps.

When he blinks back the green, shoved it down to where it's there but managed, his family haven't moved an inch from where they had been. It's a small but meaningful relief to see that they hadn't taken defensive positions like they would've in the past. They just untensed as Jason's arms stopped trembling from supernatural rage.

No one calls attention to his near-episode further, and he's grateful. "I took him back to the cave. With his blood samples I managed to create a cure for the thralls. They all went back to their everyday lives without any memories of what happened. Joker is no exception."

Which is code for, 'I found a reason to bypass normal ethics and experiment on the Joker for the greater good and yes I still remember which cell he was in. It was the highlight of that week.' It makes him feel marginally better and worse in equal measure. Where the fuck was that energy when he kicked the bucket? (Superman, was where. They already had this conversation)

"At that time Wayne Enterprises had been taking it's first steps into solar energy. When Dracula invaded the cave, we were able to survive due to the stored sunlight that the proto-type gathered."

"Wait. No, wait. Hold on. The urn on the fireplace? Please tell me that's a grandma we don't talk about." Duke pleads. "Please. It's not Kentucky Fried Vampire. Please."

When Bruce doesn't say anything for way too long, Steph nearly chokes on trying to hold back her laughter. Alfred clears his throat. "Batman was rather hurt after the altercation. And Dr. Alucard was rather rude in how he barged in - uninvited! I found it suitable that if he insisted on destroying the decorations, that he should contribute."

Steph full out cannot stop once it begins. Everyone else stares dumbfounded either at Bruce or Alfred. Dick looks like he's about to have an aneurysm. Duke is regretting his life decisions, probably the ones about joining this family. Damian is not comprehending the issue with any of this, expecting a follow up anytime soon. Cass shakes her head, but Jason hears a quiet "grandma dracula is disappointed".

He doesn't know how to feel other than dear Lord please he cannot laugh. No matter how absurd this is. He sounds ridiculous in his helmet.

"...leaving the ashes unattended would spell disaster in the wrong hands," Bruce clarifies once the giggles fall away, "Dracula kidnapped Vicky Vale to use her soul in resurrecting his wife from her ashes. Letting Alfred hide it in plain sight didn't sound like a bad enough idea to try to stop him."

"Precisely, Master Bruce." The butler approves.

"Damn. That's just cold." Dick remarks. He pinches the bridge of his nose with his free arm. "I would ask what the hell he deserved that for but he's literally an ancient evil vampire, so." His older brother jostles the blood bags he's cradling. "Hopefully this guy's an unrelated friendly."

Duke whines in the back of his throat. Jason squeezes his shoulder in sympathy.

"Tonight?" Cass redirects.

"Tonight I came across the unknown on our usual route. I had Robin stay back when I spotted him a distance away. He'd been running across rooftops, watching the people below. I followed for half a block before he walked down the side of a building and into an alley right on the border of Park Row."

"Crime Alley." Jason corrects.

"Crime Alley," Bruce amends. "Once there, he paused for a moment, searching the crowds for something. He took out a clear canister filled with a dark red liquid. It had the same viscosity as blood."

"Where's he getting the blood from? There hasn't been anymore blood bank robberies, attempted or otherwise. And no one's turned up with weird wounds, dead or alive." Steph pipes up. Babs lifts her hand up as she adds her two cents. "Unlessss, mystery teeth here is using the same tactic Drac did. If he's just arriving then we shouldn't be noticing anything just yet."

Bruce holds up a gloved finger in a 'I wasn't done' gesture. "When I approached, the unknown claimed that the canister was a synthesizer when asked. I couldn't detect any lie in his body language or voice. He then introduced himself as 'Dante Nightingale', but asked to be called Danny, which either means he's a modern vampire or an old one who is familiar with the times. I then confronted him about stalking humans from an alleyway. He revealed intel that will be worrying if confirmed."

Jason hums. "Sounds like this guy might not be the supernatural flavor of creep, at least," he mutters under his breath.

Tim raises his hand next. "From what B told me earlier, Danny said that there was some weird ghostly-doppelganger-vampire activity that our suspect hasn't seen before. The behavior, not the creatures." Tim pushes up his blue light glasses as he takes a breath. "Anyways. The info on Shades checks out. The JLD records told me all about them. Show of hands if anyone's seen Appalachia Tik Tok?"

Oh Jason doesn't like where this is going. Alfred (surprisingly), Cass, Dick, Babs, Steph, and Duke all put their hands up too.

Tim goes on. "The mimics? Shades are like that, but with a life force sucking aspect. They're basically ghosts who never were alive and didn't form right, so they eat human emotions until they become fully sentient ghosts called Specters. In a really creepy 'I'm going to replace you' way. So. Bad stuff."

Jason shivers when Bruce nods. "Nightingale claims that they're walking the streets in unusual numbers. That he had just arrived and in Gotham and that he was exploring tonight when he noticed something off."

"Ohhhhkay! Just what we needed, yeah? Invisible monsters in Gotham!" Dick says. "Quick, scratch that off the bingo."

Tim rolls his eyes. "Do we have a description? Power set, background check? I need everything I can to narrow down which type of vamp in the database." He's tapping away at his laptop again, not looking up as he types.

Bruce motions for Damian to come closer. The demon brat hands off the artwork he'd been quietly working on as they talked. Bruce observes it, before nodding at where Damian stands at attention like a good little soldier. Damian preens.

Jason blinks away the green.

Their dad scans the sheet with a device, and the image pops up on the main computer. The man in the portrait has pale skin - obviously. Fangs - no duh. Although notably shaped differently from Drac's. Claws a good few inches long and white in color. Jason spies an interesting ring. It's crown shaped and encased in fake(?) ice. Freckles on his rounder face, framed by wispy-looking stark white hair. Skeleton earrings, black turtleneck, a white blouse with a ridiculously low vee neck tucked into green pants. A delicate chain in the shape of a spiderweb wraps around his covered throat in a pleasing contrast.

The man's eyes are a hauntingly familiar shade of green. He sees it often.

The pupils glow a lighter hue of lazarus, shaped like four-pointed stars. Jason would say the guy looks more like a fae took a dip in the Pits than bloodsucker. But what does he know? Guy didn't deny the blood drinking accusations for fuck's sake.

Babs jumps in again. "We had B give Robin a description because apparently his presence is a hell of an EMP. Video feed and coms went down as soon as Batman joined him in the alley. So a few feet away." She clicks a few things on her own screen, and then starts reading down some sort of list she typed up for herself.

"Dante Nightingale, aged nineteen. A farm boy from Illinois. Parents Robert and Jane Nightingale. No other relatives. Totally normal until he was struck by lightning at thirteen and his metagene activated, giving him minor power over ice and sensitivity to heat." She taps something on her computer and a young Danny Nightingale jumps next to Damian's portrait. The black haired boy has a big goofy grin on his even rounder face, splattered with freckles. In this picture, it's obvious that although he's trying to look happy for picture day, the kid had serious bags under his eyes, and a look in those clear blues that just screamed that Danny had seen some awful things. "Then at fourteen, the whole family got into a car crash. Robert and Jane died on scene, while Dante lasted three days in the hospital before going missing entirely."

Babs pushes up her glasses and takes a deep steadying breath. "The nurses on duty reported a change in hair and eye color, as well as strange dental elongation in the canines. Paired with uncontrollable ice stronger than recorded earlier, this led them to believe that Danny's metagene strained under the new trauma and started causing physical mutations alongside the modifications to his original ability. But I think we all know what was actually happening to him."

"...What else do we know about the kid?" Dick asks. Anyone who didn't know him would say that Dick was relaxed, but Jason and anyone else who knew him could clearly see that Danny's story hit a little too close to home. Dead parents in an 'accident' where the kid was there to see. Yeah.

Heh. This looks like a classic meta trafficking case, the more he follows that thought. Not the casual kind most parents have to fear - pick a kid off the street just 'cause they were there, someone will pay for 'em no matter if they're pretty or not.

No. This was targeted. Planned out weeks, months, years in advance. Someone wanted this kid for something specific - enough to murder his parents for and make it look like an accident. Likely, it was to have an ice meta under mind control, considering what Bruce said about Dracula and his thralls. If he's right, Jason might have to go all Buffy Summers and deal with them.

Jason reaches out to catch Duke by the shoulder again and this time he doesn't let go. His newest brother looks at him, big brown eyes wide and fearful. It could've been him, easy. They both think it. They both know it. Fuck, Danny was just a few years younger than he is now.

Jason squeezes. He whispers low to him. "I'd shoot them in the balls for you. Won't let 'em take you. End bloodlines if I have to, to get you back." Duke gulps, and nods. The teen squeezes his eyes shut and Jason pretends he doesn't see him quickly wipe his eyes.

"...Recently, he got legally un-declared dead, and opened a bank account. Looks like one very dead Vlad Masters left his fortune to him sometime earlier. Man owned a goddamn castle. They found a secret lab in his basement with strange equipment when they went looking for evidence. And. Oh. Oh that's not good."

"What is it?" He asked, not wanting to know the answer already.

"Police found a mystery green liquid they couldn't identify but put the composition on file. I just ran it through our systems. 70% match to lazarus water. What's more, there were blood packs close by that were heavily contaminated with the same substance." She looks like she was ready to throw up at the dots they were all connecting.

He might as well. "Alright. Meta kid's trafficked at fourteen and turned into a vampire. Spends the next five years caught by mad scientist vampires who poked and prodded at him like a rat. Then, he murders the assholes, runs off with their money, and moves to Gotham. Fuck's sake." Jason sums up.

Bruce makes a 'I'm not disagreeing with you but I have an opinion' grunt. "That's one possibility. The most likely one from what we know right now."

"But?" Someone prompts.

"But. He mentioned a term called 'Fraid'. He said that someone told him that myself and 'my Fraid' were good people. Nightingale claimed it was a cultural term for found family," Bruce explained. The man's mouth twitches into a frown. "If he was being held hostage all that time, would they have bothered to teach him that? And if they did, experimentation wouldn't be all they had wanted from him. No one would bother to teach someone disposable."

Tim stopped typing for a second, eyes widening and then blanking quick as a whip. Swallowed. Went back in with a vigor.

"So. Either. He got away from his kidnappers, and there's some found family out there somewhere. Or he never got away from them, but he was not expendable. His kidnappers may have forced him into their family." Steph reasoned out.

"Man. This is fucked up." Duke mutters. "You're telling me, kid." Jason whispers back.

Damian bristles. "Father. We have to interrogate him. Nightingale may have connections to the League of Assassins, or a similar organization run by vampires. The lazarus water is damning. We must make sure." The demon brat demands. Which. Fair. More unknown lazarus pits are just asking for evil to pull up with some friends.

Bruce makes an 'I agree with you but I'm thinking' grunt. But before he can respond, Tim cuts in. "So Fraid is definitely what he says it means. But according to the records, only the dead or undead use it. Obviously I did a little digging. Vampires don't count as either of those, even though some sleep in coffins and stuff. No, most vampires count as something called 'death touched'. Meaning they're still alive, albeit really in tune with the other side." Tim shifts, chugging a quick bit of cold coffee. "Only one match came up when I searched for undead vampire. The thing is, it exists, but the file is on the JLD's red tape section."

Which is code for 'don't fucking touch this dimwits if you value your life, call us for fucks sake'. Pleasant.

"Yes Father. If Drake is not once again wildly incorrect and foolish, Nightingale is undead. And it's obvious how." Damian presses.

"I will make the call. Red Robin, keep looking. I'll type up the rest of the abilities and send them to you all. Everyone working with me officially, no one goes on patrol alone. We work in pairs until further notice. Everyone bring with them the anti-vampire precautions we have until we have better options." Batman commands to the group. He zeroes in on Jason, and Jason gears up to rip Bruce a new one for treating him like he's still one his birds.

But that's not what happens. "And Red Hood. Just...be careful."

Instead of acknowledging the icky ooey gooey feelings, Jason snorts derisively. "I'll tell my guys and girls to keep a lookout. If anyone goes missing I'd bet ya a thousand it'll be one of mine. Everyone knows no one's gonna call the cops." He turns around and stuffs his pockets with the gadgets, and Dick threw him a blood bag. "Later assholes."

Jason revs his bike. Tonight, he'll make his rounds, doing what said he would. And hey. Probably hit up that rage room in Bristol he goes to in civvies. Crime's been real quiet recently, and he knows it's likely purposeful.

That pisses him off that they think they can hide from him forever in his own territory.

Tonight's been bad, too. He'd rather go beat up some stupid garbage than risk a pit rage on some numb nut that at most only needs a couple slices to catch his drift. Heh. He's gonna see if they'd let him tape a pic of Dracula to a TV so he can cave his face in post-mortem.

#danny phantom #dpxdc #ghost prince danny #halfa danny fenton #halfas are vampires au #danny fenton #batfam #batman vs. dracula universe

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