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pedrospatch · 7 months ago

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call it what it is

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: A disagreement over patrol duty leads to declarations that have been long overdue.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. established relationship. HEFTY AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and joel is 56). ellie and joel are fine bc i said so and they deserve nothing less. reader handles a rifle, joel’s a little too overprotective and almost seems controlling, but i promise he is not. well, maybe just a smidge. arguing, admission of feelings, joel miller says i love you (yes this is ooc, no i do not care bc i need this old man to tell me he loves me). angst, fluff. quite a bit of side character interaction before we get to joel and reader in the second half. the only physical description of reader is that she is shorter than joel. fair warning, i am quite rusty.

word count: 4.2k

a/n: hi hello. i have not shared a wip in over 2 months. i was going back and forth on whether or not i wanted to share a fic with so much going on but decided i wanted to get back to doing what i enjoy. that and ofc that new footage was a boost of inspo. i am sending so, so much love to anyone who happens to see this author note, whether you read this fic or just happen to see this note in passing whilst scrolling. i know things have been tough, but i am here with you. <3

Joel wakes with a gentle start. Yawning, he rolls over from his side onto his back, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as warm, golden sunlight filters into the bedroom through the sheer, white linen curtains drawn over the window. He stares up at the ceiling, his breathing slow, steady, and even. He’s still getting used to it, it seems. Waking this calmly, with a tranquil peace he had been so certain he would never in his life feel again. He knew it couldn’t be a mere coincidence the nightmares had all but stopped tormenting him in his sleep when the two of you stopped doing that awkward little tap dance around one another and began sharing a bed, a home, a life.

No more bolting upright in sheer panic in the middle of the night, heart pounding and drenched head to toe in a cold sweat. No more believing he’s failing in his sleep. No more waking up feeling like he’s lost something.

Even his dreams about Sarah had become so, so much more pleasant. Images of her in that field on that night were replaced by different memories, like watching her teammates dogpile her after she’d scored the winning goal in their soccer tournament, or the big, triumphant grin she’d flashed him over her chocolate milkshake as the pair sat in their usual corner booth at their favorite fifties-themed diner in Austin—much to Joel’s surprise, Sarah had politely declined her teammates’ invitation for pizza once the match ended, choosing to celebrate her victory with him. Just the two of them.

“Y’sure you don’t wanna go with your friends, kiddo?” he’d asked, raising an eyebrow. He had been certain she was approaching the age where she would start spending less and less time with her old man. “I wouldn’t mind, y’know.”

“Positive,” she had reassured him with a smile, looping her arm through his and leading him off the pitch. “I’d much rather be with you, dad.”

Rather than smelling metallic in his slumber, he smells the grass that stained her white and blue striped jersey. Her cheeks are smeared with dirt, not with crimson.

Stifling another loud yawn, Joel stretches his arm out over towards your side of the bed, his calloused fingers seeking the warmth and softness of your naked body—instead, all they find are empty sheets, cold and long abandoned. He turns his head, and as suspected, you are not laying there beside him. That’s hardly out of the ordinary. Out of the two of you, you were the early riser, up before the neighbors’ rooster even had the chance to sound the alarm. Joel knows how much you treasure your quiet mornings lounging on the porch swing he’d built for you as you watched the sunrise with a hot cup of coffee in hand. He often made a genuine effort to get up and join you, but lately, his patrol rotations had been all over the place thanks to a shortage of patrolmen. He found himself sleeping in whenever he had the chance, seeing as he never knew when he might have to work a damn double. Or maybe it was just his age catching up with him.

He checks the time and then rolls out of bed, groaning when his sore knees and his aching lower back protest his movement.

After taking a quick shower using whatever hot water the kid had left for him after her own shower—much to his annoyance, it was not very much—Joel brushes his teeth and gets dressed for the day before pulling on his boots and heading downstairs into the kitchen where he finds the culprit responsible for the cold downpour he’d been forced to wash himself under. Ellie’s sitting at the table, absentmindedly stirring her oatmeal around her bowl with her spoon as she flips through one of her comic books. Just as he’s about to greet her, he spots the clean, empty coffee pot on the kitchen counter and frowns. You hadn’t even made coffee yet?

Now, that—that is out of the ordinary.

“Where is she?” he asks.

“Well, good morning to you too, old man. Oh, I slept great, thanks for asking,” Ellie quips without looking up at him as she flips the page. She mumbles something under her breath he doesn’t quite catch, something like, and you get on my ass about my manners?

Rolling his eyes, Joel snorts in response and pads over to the coffee maker on the counter. He spoons in some of the grounds he’d traded for earlier that week into the reusable filter, pours in water from the tap, and turns it on to brew. He grabs two ceramic mugs from the wire dish rack beside the sink and sets them down on the counter. “She out back?” he questions, yanking the refrigerator door open—he tries to remember the little things, like how you enjoyed your coffee with a bit of milk as well as a dash of cinnamon, if you had the rations, or something to trade for the precious spice. He always made sure that you did.

“Nope.” Ellie shovels a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth and adds thickly, “She went to get some eggs.”

Joel shoots her a look of disgust over his shoulder. “Jesus, Ellie! How many times do I gotta tell you? Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s bad manners,” he scolds her, shaking his head. He turns his attention back to the refrigerator. As he reaches for the glass bottle of milk, he pauses and his eyebrows pull together in confusion when he sees the wicker basket on the top shelf. “Wait a minute.” He feels her stiffen in her chair. “Why the hell would she go get eggs when we’ve got a full basket of ‘em right here in the fridge?”

She clears her throat. “Oh, uh, my bad. I got confused. Think she said she was gonna go get more honey? Uh, I used the last of it to make my breakfast this morning and she, uh—she wanted some for her toast. You know, ‘cause she really likes putting honey on her toast,” she rambles before piling more oatmeal into her mouth.

Closing the refrigerator door, he turns to her, his eyes narrowing with suspicion as uneasiness settles deep in the pit of his stomach. “Ellie?”

There’s a momentary pause. “...yeah?”

This time, Joel doesn’t bother to chastise the teenager for talking with her mouth full. “Where is she?”

Ellie nervously swallows her food and holds up both of her hands. “Hey, I already fucking told you, man.”

“Look, I know you like the back of my own hand, kiddo. And I know damn good and well when you’re lying to me.” Joel crosses his arms over his chest. “Now tell me the truth. What do you know that I don’t?”

Groaning, Ellie sits back in her chair. “Ugh. She made me swear not to tell you! She’ll fucking strangle me if I do—”

“Yeah, well, not if I fuckin’ strangle you first myself,” he threatens her. “M’Serious, Ellie. Tell me what’s going on. Right now.”

“Alright, alright! Jesus,” she huffs. “She’s with Tommy. He’s been taking her out of town to do target practice in the mornings, just the two of them. She usually gets back to the house before you get up,” she admits.

Joel’s arms fall back to his sides, his shoulders tense. “And how long has this been goin’ on?” he asks, rigidly. There’s a sudden tightness inside his chest, a feeling he hasn’t felt it in a while, but is still all too familiar to him.

After Tommy spread the word around town that more people were needed for patrol duties, you’d expressed an interest in the role, but Joel had been all too quick to shut you down, telling you he didn’t want you stepping foot outside the community’s gates.

“No,” he’d said. “Not happenin’. S’too dangerous.”

“But Joel—”

“I said,” he lowered his voice. “No.”

He hadn’t offered you an explanation as to why he was against it, refused to give you one good, solid reason as to why it was acceptable for him to risk his own life to protect Jackson, but it wasn’t acceptable for you to do the same.

Joel hadn’t known how to tell you the truth. How he needed you far, far more than you needed him, how the mere thought of losing you, the best fucking thing that could have possibly happened to him since the world ended, made him feel like his heart was going to stop.

A few weeks had passed since then, and thankfully, you never brought it up to him again. You had lost interest in patrol duty. Or so he’d thought.

“How long has this been going on?” he repeats after a minute.

“C’mon, man! Haven’t I already snitched enough?”

“Ellie,” Joel bites out her name. “Tell me. How long?”

She sighs in defeat. “Two weeks? Maybe three?” When she notices the muscle in his jaw tick, she grimaces. “You do realize why she didn’t fucking tell you, right?”

“Don’t,” he warns her, sharply.

“I’m just saying,” Ellie mutters, peering down into her bowl.

Without another word, Joel angrily storms past her and straight out the front door, snatching up his rifle on the way. He heads straight for the stables, trying to ignore the anxiety flaring inside of his chest.

Focus.

Now, breathe in. And breathe out.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe...

You exhale as you slowly squeeze the trigger.

Y’squeeze it like you love it, you had been told by your reluctant instructor.

The round fires off into the distance and you swiftly grab the bolt handle, bringing it up, back, forward, and then down again. You pull the trigger once more, then repeat and continue firing one shot after the other for a total of five rounds.

The rifle’s recoil nearly sends you flying backwards, but a strong hand on your back keeps you nice and steady. That same hand then moves to your shoulder and gives you three firm taps.

“Alright, alright! Christ,” Tommy laughs. He withdraws his arm from around you and shakes his head. “Fuckin’ calm down, Annie Oakley.”

Picking up his binoculars, he rises to his feet and looks through the lens at the makeshift targets that he’d set up for you, three empty soup cans lined up in a row on top of a wooden fence about twenty-five yards away—your longest shooting distance to date.

“Well?” You don’t even bother masking your impatience as you lower the rifle, carefully propping the weapon up against the tree stump you’re perched behind. Rubbing your sore shoulder, you hope the kickback won’t leave a bruise. You wouldn’t know how to explain that to Joel. “How did I do?”

His response comes in the form of a long, low whistle.

There is no telling if that had been good whistle, or if it had been a bad one. You groan. Now was not the time for him to dick around. “Please tell me I got at least one of them?”

“You got ‘em all, actually.” Tommy replies, lowering the binoculars and peering down at you. There’s a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “Good job, kid.”

Kid? Not exactly a nickname one wants to be called by the brother of the much, much older man that they are romantically involved with. It’d taken Tommy months to accept your relationship with Joel, especially when you moved your things out of your unit and into his over the summer. Part of you wonders if him referring to you as a kid is simply his own subtle way of telling you—no, of reminding you, that he’s still not comfortable with it.

And perhaps he never would be.

After all, you had still been a teenager when you first arrived to Jackson a few years ago, stumbling upon the town just a few months shy of the twentieth birthday you weren’t sure you would survive long enough to see.

You were indeed a kid when you’d met Tommy Miller.

Were.

Scowling up at him, you snap, “I told you to stop calling me that. I’m not nineteen anymore, Tommy.”

Having read your mind, he gives you a small smile and acknowledges, “Yeah, you’re right. You definitely ain’t a kid anymore.” He offers you his hand and hoists you up to your feet. Before dropping your hand, he gives it an apologetic squeeze.

You relax a little and smile back at him. “Did I really get all three?”

Tommy nods. “You sure did. You’re a damn good shot. I gotta be honest with you—I didn’t expect you to be this fuckin’ good,” he admits sheepishly.

Chuckling, you scoff, “Thanks. I think.”

“It’s a compliment, sugar.” He winks and flashes you a lopsided grin. “In fact, I’d say my work here is done.”

“Great! So when are you putting me on the roster?”

His grin instantly vanishes. “Uh, listen. About that....”

He trails off, and your heart sinks a little.

Tommy wouldn’t back out of this now—would he?

“Oh, no. Don’t you dare go back on your word, Miller,” you say, lightly poking him in the chest. “We had a deal. You said if I did well enough, you’d think about it.”

He nods in agreement. “Exactly. Said I’d think about it. And I think that puttin’ you on the roster for patrol ain’t a good idea.”

Your mouth falls open. If he never had any intention of holding up his end of the bargain, then what had been the point of teaching you how to shoot?

You didn’t understand.

“You just said it yourself, I’m a great shot! I’m a good on horseback, too. I’m stealthy. I’m diligent. What more do you fucking need from me, Tommy?”

Tommy’s chest heaves with a heavy sigh. “Joel would fuckin’ murder me with his bare hands if I even thought about puttin’ you on patrol duty. Hell, he’d murder me just knowin’ we’re out here and I’m teachin’ you how to shoot. It’s a damn fuckin’ miracle he still hasn’t caught onto this, y’know.”

Shocked, your eyebrows shoot to your hairline. “This is about Joel? Are you serious?”

“‘Course it is.” He pauses. “Listen, now I know the three of us had our—differences—when he first told me ‘bout you two. Still takin’ me a bit of gettin’ used to, but I can see he’s real serious about you. I know my brother, and I know he won’t risk losin’ what’s most important to him. Ain’t no way in hell. He doesn’t want you out here and you know that as well as I do.” Tommy shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, shrugging as he shuffles his weight from one cowboy boot to the other. “Unless he’s alright with it, I ain’t gonna put you on the roster.”

For a moment, you’re at a complete loss for words.

Upon seeing the crestfallen expression on your face, he makes a suggestion. “You can try talkin’ to him ‘bout it again if it means that much to you. Ask him—”

“Ask?” You want to laugh. You almost do. “I’m an adult, Tommy. I don’t need his permission to do this. Or to do anything for that matter. Joel doesn’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”

Tommy smiles wryly. “Well then, if that’s the case, why are we sneakin’ around and doin’ this behind his back?”

Your shoulders slump in defeat.

Because the ramifications could be disastrous.

Joel had made his stance on the matter abundantly clear, and yet here you were, deliberately disobeying him.

“Stumped you real good, didn’t I?”

Before you can even start to think about how you can possibly respond to that, you hear the sound of hooves in the dirt behind you, followed by whinny of a horse.

Tommy’s face pales as he glances over your shoulder.

“Shit.”

There’s no need for you to ask. His grimace says it all.

Somehow, you will yourself to turn around just as Joel’s steed comes to a halt beside the mare you and Tommy had ridden out on together. He jumps out of the saddle, grunting at the forceful impact on his knees when his feet hit the ground. His rifle hangs from a worn, brown leather strap slung across his back.

He approaches the two of you looking absolutely livid, and your throat goes dry.

“The hell is goin’ on here?” He breezes right past you, roughly shoving his brother with both hands. “Why the fuck would you bring her out here, Tommy? What the fuck is the matter with you?”

“Joel, c’mon. Take it easy—”

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me to take it easy!”

“Joel!” You reach for his arm. “Wait, it’s not his fault!”

Joel shoves him again, then takes him by the collar of his shirt and pins him against the ponderosa pine tree behind him. “You’ve been bringin’ her outside the gates behind my fuckin’ back for weeks, asshole?”

The panic begins to set in—he’s taking his anger out on the wrong person, and deep down, he knows this too.

“Joel! Stop! Let him go!” Grabbing fistfuls of his jacket, you try pulling him off of the younger man. “Stop it! It’s not his fault! I asked Tommy to bring me out here!”

He whirls around, his nostrils flared, jaw clenched.

You’ve seen this side of him a handful of times before.

But his anger has never been directed at you.

“What?”

Immediately, you let go of him and take a step back. “I asked Tommy to bring me out here and teach me how to shoot so that I can start working patrol,” you explain, hoping, praying, he doesn’t catch the slight tremble in your voice. “This was all my idea, okay? If you’re going to be mad at someone, then be mad at me. Not at him.”

“So you did this after I fuckin’ told you I didn’t want you out here?” Joel seethes. His neck becomes flushed, his tan skin now a deep shade of red.

“Joel—”

He cuts you off. “I had to find out from Ellie? You tried to get her to fuckin’ lie to me? After all the work it took for me and her to—” Stopping mid sentence, he places his hands on his hips and shakes his head.

“Joel. Please.” Behind the anger in his dark brown eyes, you detect something else. A mingle of hurt, concern—fear?

Tommy awkwardly clears his throat. “Well I’m, uh—I’m gonna head back to town,” he says, touching a hand to the back of his neck. “I’ll let the two of you work things out in private.” As he passes Joel, he lightly claps him on the shoulder. “Girl’s a sharp shooter, big brother. I’d reckon she’s almost better than you.”

His effort to lighten the mood fails. Miserably.

Offering you a subtle nod of encouragement, Tommy hops into the saddle of his mare and takes off towards the commune.

Silence falls over the both of you. It feels suffocating.

Unfamiliar.

Finally, you speak. “Joel, please just hear me out—”

“What the hell were you thinkin’? Or were you just not thinkin’ at all?”

“I was thinking I want to pull my weight in Jackson.”

“You already have a fuckin’ job,” Joel reminds you.

“Making sandwiches and serving whiskey at The Tipsy Bison?” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I am capable of more than that, Joel. So much more. Don’t you believe I’m capable of doing more?”

“I don’t want you out here,” he grits through his teeth. “Capable or not, I don’t want you outside Jackson’s walls. I don’t want you on patrol and that’s fuckin’ final. You understand me?” Now it’s him who falters, and you wonder if you’re imagining things, or if that’s really a tear you see sliding down the side of his face, disappearing into the salt and pepper scruff of his beard.

“That’s not your decision to make, Joel. It’s mine.”

“M’responsible for you. It’s my job to look after you—to protect you.”

Something about the way he is looking at you, it feels like a punch to the gut, and it’s at that precise moment when you begin to realize that he’s not angry. He’s afraid.

“Joel, I know that all you want to do is protect me,” you sigh, letting your arms fall down to your sides. “I know you do. But you’re doing me no favors by trying to keep me sheltered. By treating me like I’m defenseless. Don’t forget, I’m a survivor too.”

“You already know how fuckin’ dangerous it is out here. Clickers, raiders—”

“I can handle it,” you insist, stubbornly.

“You’d be puttin’ yourself right in harm’s way!”

You shoot back, “You mean, the way you and so many other people put yourselves in harm’s way every single day for the sake of keeping Jackson safe?”

A frustrated growl rumbles through his chest. “Christ, why are you bein’ so fuckin’ foolish? You’re just askin’ to get yourself killed!”

“I can take care of myself!” You realize your hands are shaking and curl them into tight fists at your sides in an effort to hide it. “Just accept it, Joel! Accept that I can take care of myself, alright?”

That is all it takes to tip Joel over the edge he’s been teetering on. “Then what do you fuckin’ need me for?” he shouts, his voice thundering over the quiet plains of Wyoming. “If you can take care of yourself, what’s the point in us bein’ together? Why are you with me?”

“Because I love you!”

As soon as the confession comes tumbling out of your mouth, you take a step back, your wide eyes meeting his own. Until now, neither of you have ever called this what it is, been bold enough to say it’s love.

Loving after so much grief, so much loss, is daunting. It’s something you thought you would never be capable of doing again, not in this lifetime. Not in this world. It’s happened, though.

You love Joel Miller.

And he loves you.

He’s never told you he does, but he’s shown you.

From the way remembers how you take your coffee in the mornings, to the way he laces his fingers with your own, holding your hand when he’s buried inside of you, whispering sweet nothings into your collarbone every single night.

“You—you what?” Joel’s whisper is hardly audible.

You inch your way closer to him, your voice soft. “I love you,” you declare once more. “I’m not with you because of what you can do for me. I’m not with you because you can take care of me.” Closer. “I’m with you because I love you—because I’m in love with you, Joel.” Closer, until your chest brushes against his, and he can smell the subtle scent of your homemade, rosewater soap. “The only thing I need, and have ever needed from you, is your love in return.”

His throat bobs. Before you can utter another word, he lifts his hands and gently takes your face, cradling it in between his large palms, gently. His eyes search yours, immediately finding the sincerity behind your words. Leaning down, he brushes the tip of nose against your own as one of his hands travels down, his long fingers curling around the nape of your neck. His thumb lightly strokes the column of your throat.

“I love you,” Joel says hoarsely. Three words he hadn’t said to anyone in over two decades—it feels foreign to him, they ring strange in his own ears. He tries it again, clearer this time, and with a little more confidence. After all, he’s only saying what he has known from the very start. “I love you.” His other hand moves to your hip, pulling you even closer to him. “M’gonna love you for the rest of my life, baby.”

He leans in further and presses his lips to yours lightly, at first, but he wastes no time in sweeping his tongue across your bottom lip, silently asking for more.

Your mouth parts for him, and he backs you against the ponderosa, kissing you deeply, greedily, like he’s a man starved.

You whimper into him, your hands sliding up his broad chest and past his shoulders until they’re tangled in his soft, graying curls. He breathes you in, like you are the oxygen he needs to stay alive.

It isn’t until you both hear the sound of rustling behind a nearby shrub that you’re forced to pull apart. “Don’t move,” Joel instructs in a hushed voice. He keeps you pinned against the tree, his hand abandoning your hip. He glances around, slowly reaching behind his back for his rifle. His tense shoulders relax when the both of you see a pair of rabbits dart out from one dried bush and straight into another. Exhaling an amused huff, Joel shifts his attention back to you and rests his forehead against yours.

Smiling, you reach up and softly graze his beard with your fingertips. “Guess it’s about time we called this what it is, huh?”

“Guess you’re right, darlin’.” He lifts his chin, brushing a kiss onto your forehead. “M’sorry for raisin’ my voice to you. For talkin’ to you the way I did. S’just, the thought of somethin’ happenin’ to you out here scares shit out of me.” Taking a step back, he pulls the strap of his rifle from around his shoulder. He chews the inside of his cheek and silently stares at the gun in his hands. After a minute, he meets your curious gaze. “Do you really wanna do this, sweet girl?”

You nod. “Yeah. I really do.”

Joel sighs. “Can I put a condition it?”

“Depends on what that condition is.”

“I’m your patrol partner. Every shift. Every rotation.”

You roll your eyes. “Joel.”

“At least for the first few weeks,” he bargains. “Last thing I need is for you to be paired up with some fuckin’ idiot who doesn’t know what the hell they’re doin’.”

Knowing that would be the only way he’d have some peace of mind, you decide to agree. “Fine. We’re patrol partners.”

“Alright then.” Joel nods and hands you the rifle. He flashes you a small grin. “Show me what you got, baby.”

divider credit to @/saradika 💛

for fic notifications please follow @joelsgreysupdates!

#joel miller x reader #fic: call it what it is #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction

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witchywcmans · 7 months ago

Text

TOO SWEET. | LAIOS TOUDEN

synopsis ━━ after accepting his new title, your moments alone with laios start to become a rarity. it was hard for him to find time, making him long for the days in the dungeon with you. and now, the kisses between you two were quick and desperate, until one night...when a very tired laios just can't seem to ignore you. (laios x f!reader.)

content warnings ━━ cunnilingus + fingering, praise, size kink, reader on top, unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating, yearning + sexual tension, laios and reader haven't boinked in a bit, monster facts as dirty talk ofc, confession, mentions of dubious consent in 5th paragraph (from when the winged lion switched into laios's body). nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).

word count ━━ 5.4k

song inspiration ━━ howl, florence + the machine / oil & water, pvris / love story, taylor swift

author's note ━━ THIS ONE-SHOT CONTAINS MANGA SPOILERS FOR THE ENDING OF DUNGEON MESHI! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! okay, part 3 (and final part) of my laios series is here! like the other parts, this could be read as a standalone, if you want. my plan for part 3 was to make it vague in case ppl who haven’t read the manga want to read it, but that kinda went out the window. I highly encourage everyone to read the manga if you want more of the story, it gets so interesting! I'm a SUCKER for a knight x ruler ship, so that's what you're getting in this!! I've enjoyed writing this little connected series so much and it really pushed me to start writing reader one-shots! if it hadn't been for all the ppl in the dungeon meshi fandom who read my work, I probably wouldn't have started this. this anime + manga has become one of my absolute favorites!! I hope you guys enjoy this! ps: don't worry, I will be writing more laios in the future 😉

🪽 part i: PLEASE, EAT. / part ii: FORBIDDEN FRUIT. / part iii: TOO SWEET.

After what felt like years, all was right in the world when the Island’s dungeon was destroyed and the Golden Kingdom finally rose from the sea. You had gotten to know Laios – in more ways than one – throughout your journey inside the dungeon, which had left you terrified at some points, especially when you almost lost him. But it hadn’t surprised you when the people had declared him King of a land that was thought to have been perished 1000 years ago. With everything he sacrificed, Laios – the devour of monsters, the destroyer of demons – was the only right person to rule.

With the help of Marcille, Senshi, Chilchuck, and even more friends met along the way, Laios was advised thoroughly as he undertook the stresses of establishing the Golden Kingdom once again. He had to deal with villager problems, instituting the economy, and keeping an eye on the monsters that took residence in surrounding lands. He watched them from his bedroom window on the farthest tower of the castle, admiring the beasts that warded off any threats to the kingdom. But his passion had become the production and preservation of food throughout his land, specifically in regards to magic and monsters. He made sure not one person in the Golden Kingdom went hungry, even if it killed him someday.

Most days were spent researching with his advisors or sitting in the throne room, listening to villagers' pleas for more building materials, better water, or whatever else they came up with that day. Laios made sure to listen to every ask, but he had to admit – just talking to people was exhausting. He never regretted his decision to become King, but sometimes … he longed for the days in the dungeons, tearing into whatever monster they cooked up that night, fighting alongside you, holding your hand or kissing you … tasting you.

Like your former party members, you had taken up residence in the castle as Laios’s chief knight and sworn protector. It made sense, given the fact that you had saved him with your crossbow on several occasions in the dungeon. You frequented by his side, except when he was in his own chambers. You led him to meetings, walked with him through the streets of the kingdom, protected him if any threats arose. Ever since you took up this mantle, your moments alone together had become rare. There had been one night: after Laios was safe and sound in the walls of the castle … that you shared his bed with him, tears streaming down your face because you had been so worried for him, but it didn’t matter anymore now that he was safe, and healing, and pounding into you so hard that it left you both gasping for air. Besides that, the only encounters you had alone were fleeting, consisting of swift, passionate kisses and rough squeezes in dark corners. You two hadn’t been intimate in any sense of the word since … well, since the Winged Lion was defeated.

Just the memory of the demon made you shiver. You remembered when the Wing Lion had switched into Laios’s body and granted his true desire to become a monster. Before trying to escape the dungeon, he had tried fooling all the party members that he really was Laios and he almost fooled you. You recalled the way he had tried to kiss you – probably devouring your own desires right from your mouth – and how his hands so eagerly tried to slip underneath your skirt, finding you already aching and ready for your lover, just needing to be touched after being so distraught over Laios’s wellbeing. But you recognized the foreign contact from a mile away, and you had pushed him back, screaming at the Winged Lion to bring back your Laios.

You shook yourself out of the memory as you walked Laios back to his bed chambers that night. His stomach was full from dinner, but he was also worn out from a long day of meeting with his advisors. Marcille had really chewed into him about something today, but you weren’t sure of the reason. Holding open the door to his room for him, you caught his tired, lingering gaze before he disappeared inside. You swallowed hard, stationing yourself outside his door, your fingers on the handle of your sword. Nights like these were hard. They were lonely. It was just you out here, manning the King’s chambers, with nothing but the memory of his mouth between your legs or his groans echoing in your ears.

His half-lidded eyes tonight had you reeling, squeezing your thighs together as you tried to forget about how much you wanted him. It had been almost two weeks since he last kissed you. And that kiss had been quick, desperate, two people colliding in the small, unlit closet used by the maids.

Your hand enclosed around the hilt of your sword, and you nodded at two other guards walking past. If you kept losing yourself to daydreams like this, there was no way you’d be focused enough to protect Laios from an immediate threat. That’s what mattered after all: the King’s protection … the King’s protection … the King. Surely, it wasn’t wise to be so entranced with the new King of the Golden Kingdom as his sworn sword. And again, you understood why you were picked. But it was nights like this where you really wished you had just been … his lover. Hell, you’d even survive with just being a lady of the court if it meant no more secret meetings in closets.

You could’ve dwelled on this predicament for hours, if the door to the Laios’s chambers wasn’t opening.

You turned immediately, your hand on the hilt of your sword going tight. But it was just Laios, leaning against the open door and rubbing at his tired eyes. He had shed his fancy clothes for a nightshirt and loose-fitting drawers. His hair had grown a bit longer, and he refused to cut it out of spite. The way it was sticking out right now, pushed back slightly by his hand … you swore you could feel your knees buckling.

“Your Grace?” You greeted, remaining professional, until you saw that look in his eyes again. That tired, lingering gaze. Full of want, and care, and desperation for another body against his.

His eyes crinkled, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at your call. “Please, do not feel the need to call me that at this hour.” He then held out his hand, beckoning you closer.

Swallowing hard, your eyes flicker down the barren hallway before taking his hand, letting him lead you inside his bed chambers. This was the moment you’d been waiting for so long. His movements were calculated, deliberate, as he slowly shut the large door. You unhooked your belt and scabbard, setting them by the door. As you turned to him, he was already in front of you, helping you take off your armor. His fingers were slow, not in a hurry, as he fiddled with the metal fasteners. He struggled with some clasps, muttering under his breath, and you laughed softly. Each piece was set delicately on the ground, and then he was lifting off your chainmail as if it weighed nothing. You sometimes wondered how you were able to walk around with such heavy material every day since taking up this mantle.

Finally, you were left in nothing but your clothes beneath the armor: a loose red tunic and suede trousers. The relaxed nature in his eyes vanished, replaced by an intense hunger, mirroring the stance of a wolf. Laios was rushing towards you, pushing you against the wall, and pressing his mouth onto yours. You matched his desire tenfold, winding your hands into his hair as you kissed each other with desperation. His fingers fisted into the sides of your shirt, pulling you against him, while his tongue prodded into your mouth. He groaned immediately. All this time without tasting just a bit of you had him weak in the knees. He’d never go this long without kissing you ever again.

“It’s been weeks,” he muttered between kisses. Gone was the monster-obsessed adventurer who saved you from turning into a sea serpent. He’d been replaced by a King who yearned for your touch the second he saw you every morning.

“Since we last kissed,” you corrected as he pressed your back even further into the cold, stone wall. His lips broke away from yours, leaving a trail of spit connecting you two. You exhaled, “It’s been months since we were alone for longer than two minutes.”

“I know,” he sighed, now nuzzling his cheek against yours, “and I’m sorry. All I want to do is go back to the dungeon … with you. It’s just … there’s no time, and I’m so tired.” His mouth then dragged to the shell of your ear, and you shivered when his hot breath ghosted over the side of your face. “But the way you looked tonight at dinner … I don’t know … it was the way the wine made your face red … no matter how tired I was, I had to have you tonight. I missed you so much.”

You were sure that your cheeks had to be as flushed now as they were at dinner. Just his kiss alone had you wet, already wrapped around his finger. “I missed you too, Laios.”

He hardly gave you a second to continue before he was kneeling in front of you. He couldn’t wait; there was this fierce longing in his eyes that only you could cure. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your trousers as he muttered, “I need to taste you.”

Despite his desperation, he did take a moment to admire how soaked your underwear was, how he had always been the one to cause this. You looked down at him and he looked up at you. With long, expert fingers, Laios tugged your underwear down along with your trousers. Your pussy was absolutely dripping, like a goddamn faucet. A whine escaped his lips, hungry for a taste, and he spread your folds just slightly to see the wetness gather. There were just about a thousand monster dishes he enjoyed, but nothing – absolutely nothing – compared to how delicious you were.

Laios didn’t even give you time to step out of your pants and underwear. He was grasping your hips and burying his face between your legs, pushing you right back against the wall. You choked on a moan, even though you both knew you had to be quiet, but you just couldn’t help yourself. He placed one of your legs on his shoulder to give him better access, and when he finally got the first few drops of you on his tongue, he damn near started crying.

You were exquisite. You were too sweet. Sweet like Dryad fruit.

Grinding your hips against his tongue, you whined out his name and realized how badly you had needed him in this way for weeks. Your hands found purchase in his hair, tugging his face deeper into your pussy. He lapped at you, absolutely ravenous, groaning when more slick entered his mouth. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked harshly. His fingers dug into your hip, surely bruising you, while his other hand wrapped around your leg and pushed them even further apart.

“Missed the way you tasted,” he muttered before flicking your clit with his tongue. “I could do this for hours.”

You let out a shuddering breath, already hazy from his touch. “Why don’t you then?”

“I want to,” he chuckled, all awkward and blushing. Just the sight of him looking up at you with those pretty eyes while licking a stripe up your pussy had you gasping. “Tomorrow. I promise. I just need to be inside you tonight.”

His promise for tomorrow had your heart fluttering. You both were going to make time again, but he also had more plans for you tonight. This wasn’t going to be just two minutes in a closet. Thinking of him stretching your walls with his girth, pushing into you after all these weeks of yearning for him, of touching yourself whenever you could because you just missed him so much … it all made you start to buck your hips against his tongue again. You knew how much he loved that. You physically felt him smile against you, sucking on your clit once again as he prodded one finger inside your tight warmth.

Your eyes rolled back once he found your g-spot, curling his finger and beginning to pump in and out. “Fuck, Laios, I –”

“Needed this so badly,” he confessed, swirling his tongue around your increasingly swollen clit. His cock was straining against his drawers, precum seeping through the thin fabric, but he wanted you to cum on his tongue first. It’s all he’d been dreaming about. “Needed you.”

“I needed you too,” you whispered, and then felt him add a second finger inside of you. You bit the side of your hand, muffling your moan. “So good – fuck. Doing so good, Laios –”

Your body was starting to shake, your walls clenching around his fingers. Laios was relishing in your taste, teasing your clit in the most delicious way. You were so, so close and he needed this so much and so did you and before you knew it, you were crying out into your hand again. Your pussy went tight as his fingers curled into your g-spot and you came all over his waiting tongue. Laios whimpered when he finally tasted your release, pushing his face as much as he could into your pussy, almost suffocating himself. He licked at you, making sure he got every last drop, and when your hips finally stilled, he pulled his fingers out of you with a wet pop and lapped at the excess.

Sweat ran down your brow as you settled against the wall, trying to calm your breathing. When you opened your eyes, Laios was getting to his feet and towering over you. His hand clasped around your jaw and gave you another bruising kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. It was like he was trying to devour you, to mold both of you into one so you could be together forever.

Carrying you over to the bed, he set you down on top of the blankets and finally tugged your pants and underwear from your ankles. You laughed together when he realized that he had gotten so excited he forgot to rid you of these. "Sorry," he said, setting them down in a pile.

You couldn't help but smile when you noticed the blush on his cheeks. "Missed me that much, huh?"

His face went even more pink. "Stop embarrassing me when I'm trying to seduce you."

He pulled his nightshirt over his head, and before his fingers could grasp the hem of your tunic, you were pinning him with the brute strength he forgot you acquired in the dungeon. "You don't have to do much to seduce me, Laios," you whispered in his ear, making him shudder.

Now underneath you, you straddled Laios's lap, feeling how hard he was in his drawers. He looked up at you in shock, like you were an offering from the Gods, as you lifted your tunic off and dropped it to the floor. His breathing stilled, watching the way your breasts heaved, and his cock was practically begging for release.

You leaned down, pressing your mouth to his throat, placing sloppy kisses on areas that made his breath hitch. This was the new King of the Golden Kingdom under you, trembling from just your lips on his skin. He was wrapped around your finger just as much as you were wrapped around his. Dragging your lips down, you kissed his chest before finally swirling your tongue around one of his nipples. Laios muttered expletives under his breath as you wrapped your lips around his nipple, pinching his other one. His whole body was becoming tense underneath you, his straining erection poking against your backside, but you kept teasing him.

At the end of the day, you were always there for your King.

Once both his nipples were taut and wet from your expert tongue, you leaned back up to his face and kissed the corner of his mouth. He watched you with half-lidded eyes, cupping your face so tenderly. “Laios, I just want to be extra sure. Do you want to …?” Your question hung heavy between you two, but recognition flashed in Laios’s eyes. You nuzzled the side of his face and added, “I know you’re tired. I don’t want to keep you up if you’re that exhausted.”

“I’ve been thinking about this – about you – for weeks,” he said, his eyes filled with need. “I want this. I want you.”

You stared at him, absolutely melting at the sight of that dopey grin on his face once again, the one you loved so, so much. Now you were blushing, unable to not giggle when you saw that grin. You traced the curve of his mouth with your finger, and he bit down on the top of it unexpectedly, making you both laugh. This is why you loved Laios: everything was so easy with him.

Wait, love. Is that was this was? The burning feeling in your chest whenever he was near. The way you couldn’t help but smile whenever he did, or how you always laughed along with him. The natural disposition to protect him, whether it be from demons or people. The way you could so easily melt under his touch, under his kiss. It had always been there, staring you right in the face … love.

Feeling your heart beat rapidly in your chest, you finally moved so he could push down his drawers, and his hard cock sprang free. Precum leaked from the blushing red tip, dripping down his shaft and onto his stomach. You adored how pretty his cock was, how easily he could stretch you out with his girth. He liked the way you looked at it now, how you praised him. It took a couple of times, but he eventually stopped being embarrassed about his size around you. He still liked to give you monster facts as he fucked you sometimes – as a treat.

Laios’s hands settled on your hips as you lifted yourself, positioning yourself above his cock. You wrapped your hand around his shaft to get the perfect angle, smearing his precum and making him hiss. “Did … did you know,” he said, voice strangled, “the maximum speed of a Red Dragon is approximately – oh, fuck – 60 kilometers per hour?”

“Mhmm …” You hummed, finally lowering yourself with his help, sinking down onto his cock slowly. Once he slipped a few inches inside your warm, wet walls, you both gasped. You placed your free hand on his chest and encouraged, “Tell me more, Laios.”

“Gods …” He breathed out, feeling your body quiver above him. “I … uh – fuck … people have theorized that changelings – shit – use their ability to change living things in order to propagate their species – fuck, almost there –”

You both let out a breath of relief once he was finally seated inside you. Laios sat up, tugging you more against him, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You stayed there for a moment, adjusting to his size once again, clinging to him as he kissed your cheek and murmured how you took him so well. You’d probably never get used to how big he was, but he filled you so nicely, so completely. After making sure you were comfortable, Laios decided to take the reins and began moving you on his cock. You whimpered after the first pass, and he had to grip your hips so tightly just to stop himself from going overboard, wanting to make this last just a little while longer. Each roll of your hips had you mewling as his cock curved inside you, brushing your spongy g-spot. His fingers dug into your skin, rocking you back and forth, grinding your already oversensitive clit against his pelvis.

Burying your face into his neck, you let him start to bounce you on his cock. He groaned, feeling himself throb inside your tight heat. Everything about you was perfect: from the way you fit him inside of you so nicely to the way you whined against his skin, begging for more. He was thoroughly obsessed with you. It was a miracle that it took him so long to initiate with you after the Golden Kingdom had risen. He found himself thinking about your touch, about your taste, more often than not. And the way you smiled at him, your laughter sounding like wind chimes in a busy street market … he knew how deep his feelings went, farther than he expected. He was the King but you were the one who brought him to his knees every time.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he groaned, biting and sucking on the side of your neck. “You always feel so good … so warm …”

He started thrusting up into you when his arms got a little tired, and you let him simply take control. There was so little control he had in his life now, especially since he was being watched almost all the time, so you’d give him this – you’d give him you. And gods, did it feel good to just melt into him, to not be his sworn sword, just for a little while. Right now, you two were just lovers, desperate to soothe each other’s ache.

The expansive bedroom was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and moans echoing off the ceiling. Your arousal oozed out with each roll of your hips, dripping onto the lavish blankets befit for a King. But neither of you seemed to give a damn as his nails created crescent shapes in your hips, and you squeezed around him so much that he choked on a whimper. With your face nuzzling the crook of his neck, you carded your fingers into his hair, pulling slightly and eliciting another sound from him.

“Did you also know,” he began in a strained tone, “fuck – wargs have no fear of monsters larger than themselves – please, fuck – not even … not even dragons?”

“Are we still doing that?” You snorted, lifting your head from his neck.

He laughed along with you, and now you both were looking into each other’s eyes as he thrust up into you, hitting the best spots. He leaned down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, moaning at the way you squirmed. His tongue moved to lick up the valley between your breasts, almost animalistic, before his mouth was grazing yours and his eyes were burning into you like melted gold. You clung onto him tighter, your chest flush against him, and you knew then that this wasn’t just fucking anymore. Laios was making love to you and you were making love to him and – fuck, he was going to make you cum so hard to make up for the past few weeks.

You were creating an absolute mess on top of him, just a blabbering heap of moans and whines, eyes locked on his as you rode him into oblivion. “I’m gonna cum,” you mewled, unable to keep your voice level. Your fingers tugged on his hair again, and he responded by downright slamming you up and down his thick cock.

“I know. It’s okay. I know.” One of his hands left your hip to reach in between your bodies, where you both were linked, and two fingers began to circle your clit. You hissed, back arching even more into him. Your vow to be quiet long forgotten as he teased your ache. “That’s it … there you go.”

Laios knew his strength, and it was certainly showing it off tonight. He was rocking your hips on his cock – so close to release – while rubbing your clit in tight circles. His sweet nothings in your ear had you crying out his name, and after a few more messy passes, you were cumming around him. You were shaking like fresh mandrake in his arms. Your walls squeezed him so tight that it only took one more thrust up into you before he was emptying himself into you. He came with a lewd groan, his hands falling to his sides and leaving you to bounce yourself on his cock through his release. Eventually, when the wave after wave of pleasure settled between you both, you slumped against him and breathed heavily. And he just held you, burying his face in your neck and licking at the bites he left on your bruised skin.

When you lifted your head to kiss him, he surprised you by rolling you onto your back, his soft cock slipping out and leaving you feeling empty. He kneeled at the end of the bed and spread your legs wide open, letting your combined releases spill out. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, and the anguish in his tone stunned you. “It’s been weeks, and I just … I need you.”

As soon as the word, “Please,” left your lips, he was diving in again, spreading your folds with two fingers. He licked a long stripe through your pussy, gathering your releases on his tongue. He didn’t care that he was tasting his own cum; all he wanted was this – you. He lapped at you, still starving for your taste, and the way he had you cumming again was slow, calculated. Laios edged you, teetering you on the brink of release, before his hunger got the best of him. And when you came again on his tongue, it felt long and relaxing, like a weight had been lifted off you. Warmth seeped from your aching pussy and onto his tongue. He drank his fill, relishing in your sweetness.

Laios rose back on the bed, curling against your side like a tamed dire wolf. His arms slotted against you, pulling your naked front against his once again. His hand lifted to your cheek, pushing strands of hair behind your ear. Your noses brushed against each other, and he finally kissed you, slowly and passionately. There was no desperation left in him. It was replaced by the steady rhythm of his heart next to yours.

“I love you, Laios,” you blurted in the softest voice you could muster. Once you realized what you said, you didn’t dare open your eyes to see his reaction. You simply felt him, his lips hovering just over yours, and then he hummed.

“I love you too,” he whispered, and your eyes opened to watch him. That dazed grin appeared once again, making your insides twist and your cheeks tinged pink.

Laios practically giggled and pecked your lips just to soothe your nerves. “I’m not sure how to handle you like this,” he joked, finally making you laugh with him. “Usually, you’re the one making me nervous.”

“I just …” You shook your head. “I was afraid you wouldn’t say it back.”

“I thought it was obvious that I’ve been in love with you since we first met,” he said in that straightforward tone of his. His thumbs brushed over your cheekbones and he smiled. “Seems like I’m cooler than I thought.”

You chuckled, hitting his chest and making him fall back onto the bed. You were sitting up slightly, propping your elbow and resting your chin in your hand. Laios was looking up at you like you put the stars in the sky. Both of you knew, instinctively, that a King being intimate with his sworn protector was typically frowned upon. Neither of you truly cared, but the opinions of his people had to matter. He was a new King after all, and every move of his would be scrutinized. Which left him with one option.

Lacing his fingers with yours, he said, “We should get married.”

Your brow furrowed. “That seems a little rash.”

It was your gut instinct to deflect, to push him away, even when you scooted yourself closer to him. But you couldn’t deny that this had been in the back of your mind, shoved in the dark corners when you thought it might be too crazy of an idea. The first time it popped into your brain was when you saw Laios’s monster form lying helpless on the ground. His body was deteriorating, blood seeping out from every crevice of the three-headed creature. The Winged Lion had been defeated, but you couldn’t stop the wail that erupted from your mouth as you took in Laios’s monster body, reeking of death and despair. You remembered running from from the tower, taking one of the heads in your arms, and crying, your tears soaking the fur.

But then you and Marcille found him amongst the trees of the island, where Falin’s body had been frozen and resting against a boulder. From the moment his eyes met yours, you had no doubt that this was your Laios. And he was okay. He was tired, but he was okay. You didn’t think you could shed any more tears, but then you were running towards him, wrapping your arms around him, and he was burying his face in your neck and – gods, that had to be when you knew. With the relief flooding through you and his arms embracing you … you knew then that you wanted to be with him forever. You didn’t want to see him in harm’s way ever again. You would kill – again and again – for him. You would be by his side as long as he would have you. You loved him. You wanted him. Forever.

Laios snorted, bringing you out of the memory. “Rash? After how long we’ve known each other?” His tone grew serious. “I trust you with my life. That’s why I named you my sword. But I don’t want to go weeks without you ever again. I love you – I’m in love with you – and I know that I don’t want anyone else by my side.” He squeezed your fingers in his own. “I want to marry you. And then, we can be together freely with you as my Queen and sword sword.” He then paused, thinking. “We can do that, right?”

You laughed. “You’re the King. You can make your own rules, but …” Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip for a moment as you mulled over his words. “Are you sure you want to marry me?”

“I’ve never been more certain about anything.” He then tapped his chin, feigning curiosity. “Unless you want me to marry Marcille? It would certainly be a loveless marriage, but she can be friendly when she isn’t advising me.”

Shaking you head, you flicked his arm. “Not sure if your sister would appreciate that. Or Marcille, for that matter.” Not even magic could force those two apart. They would love each other until the end of time.

Your eyes narrowed now. “Are you actually proposing to me without a ring, Your Grace?”

The formality made him cringe, but then his face relaxed as he stared up at you, taking in your beauty. You were the most beautiful like this, vulnerable and bare with your hair jutting out at every angle and your lips swollen from kissing him. But he’d reckon you were beautiful in every light. He couldn’t help but also think back to when you found him by Falin’s crystalized form, how it felt to just hold you again after such an egregious fight. Your warmth had seeped into him, reminding him of home. You were home. And that was when he knew, too, that he wanted to be bound to you.

Laios brought your joined hands to his lips, kissing each of your knuckles. “Once the sun rises, you will get a proper proposal. I’ve always been a man of my word, haven’t I?”

And that he was. Because the moment you stirred awake the next morning, still sleeping in his bed, you opened your eyes to find Laios, King of Golden Kingdom, kneeling at your bedside. He held out a ring to you, eagerly awaiting your response. Once your eyes adjusted to the light and you saw his golden doe eyes, his big grin, you wrapped your arms around his neck. Of course, you said, Yes.

#my fics #fic: too sweet #laios touden x reader #laios touden smut #laios x reader #laios touden x reader smut #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi x reader #dunmeshi #laios touden #laios dungeon meshi #one shot: too sweet #fic: please eat #fic: forbidden fruit #dunmeshi laios #dungeon meshi spoilers #dunmeshi spoilers

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palmerzy · 2 months ago

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giggles and jumps up and down

so i saw that you have bruce wayne in who you write for 😍😍. and i was wondering if i cpuld ask for bruce as batman fucking catwoman!reader after she robbed another jewwlry store...like hes tried to wip fuck her into shape

hi anon!! thank you dearly for requesting bruce because i’ve been dying to write for him <3 i always write/perceive him as a dom bc usually i envision either comic!bruce or bale!bruce but if you want any sub stuff deffo lmk :) or just any more bruce stuff hehe

you can picture this drabble with any bruce you want ofc!!

NSFW! - explicit sexual themes.

bruce wayne immediately knows it’s you again when the radio in the batmobile crackles to life and speaks of a jewellery heist just a few blocks down, and before he knows it he’s turning the car around in an instant, muttering something to himself about ‘the brat not knowing when to give up.’

he knows for sure that it’s you the second he arrives to the scene and sees no obvious signs of a break in, because you’re stealthy, and you’re only here for one reason. the single piece of jewellery to have been swiped is a cat-eye pendant, and he notices it dangling around your neck once you turn the corner, a wicked grin gracing your lips, crinkling your eyes beneath the domino mask. your body is graced in a skin-tight leather suit, one he’s come to know his way around all too well, and a cutesy pair of cat ears adorn your head, making you seem more innocent than he knows you to be, especially when you greet him: “hey, batty, come to play with me?”

bruce is aware of what you’re doing, he’s fully aware of your tactical manipulation - setting up an entire heist just because you know he’ll eventually end up fucking you in the back, having his way with you before the cops arrive, under the guise of teaching you a lesson.

the first time it had happened wasn’t intentional, but the way you’ve both adjusted your suits for easy access conveys the intention now lurking behind every act, every movement. the sounds of sirens in the distance has him pouncing, and before you know it he’s got you bent over a glass jewellery case, his hands roaming the tight leather covering your ass whilst his cock plunges into your welcoming depths at a speed you’re sure the flash even couldn’t rival with.

you’ve done this plenty of times by now, and bruce knows how to have you mewling for him, how to have your back arched perfectly, giving him a reason to tease you about just how catty you really are. he’s not gentle, either, - why would he be? you’re a criminal, and he’s going to treat you like one. one of his hands is in your hair, twirling it around before tugging harshly, watching the cat ears jostle from the movement, and his teeth peek beneath his rosy lips in a smirk. “how many times are y’gonna make me do this? huh?” “always need me to fuck you silly so you understand properly, don’t you?” “can’t keep stealin’, can’t keep makin’ me set you straight like this.”

bruce is also fully aware that the more he fucks you, the more you’ll come back. he can feel it in the way your walls tighten around him when his pulsing tip smacks against that silky spot inside of you with every. single. thrust. he doesn’t care that his method is doing the exact opposite of what he’s telling you. he wants you to come back. he needs you to come back.

it’s bad, he knows that, he knows he shouldn’t enjoy the thrill of trying to make you come before authorities arrive on the scene and his cop buddy gordon sees him stuffing you to the brim. that definitely wouldn’t give him any better of a reputation than he’s already got. ‘bat shamelessly engages sexually with criminal cat lady’ isn’t a headline he wants to see. but god, he can’t stop himself. not when he can hear your claws scratching against the glass beneath you, and he can see the way your tits are squashed up against it, stretching your leather suit.

never in his life has he gotten so hard for someone so quickly, he knows that now. every time he sees you, he’s hard. your face in the paper, on wanted posters around gotham, in his mind as his hand wraps around his cock in the early hours of the morning, all of it makes him achingly hard, thinking of when he’ll get you take you again.

yet, nothing in the world compares to how he feels like this, the adrenaline rush he gets from drilling into you at one of your crime scenes. “nothing more than a criminal and a whore f’me,”he’d grit into your ear, large palm smacking down onto your backside, watching your skin ripple beneath the material covering it. “not gonna stop, are you?” “gonna make me come ‘n’ find you every week just to fill this perfect little cunt,” “can’t get enough, kitty, can’t ever get enough of me,” he grunts and he groans, loudly, and you’re sure he enjoys this as much as you do.

nobody has ever fucked you the way batman fucks you, so never in a million years would you stop coming back. he can call you whatever names he wants, but deep down you know he wants this too, he needs the release of slamming into your pliant body, of holding you with a bruising grip as you squeal and whine for him.

the sirens are closer now, and he’s snapped back to reality, whilst his hips snap back into you. the coil in his stomach is tightening all too fast, his load ready to shoot into your stretched hole and mark you as property of the bat, whether gotham approves or not. he’s learned that if he doesn’t make you come from his cock, you’ll return to him sooner, and he enjoys that. he enjoys knowing you need him, you need to be fucked into oblivion and need him to make you squelch around his cock, especially as the kevlar of his suit slams against your clit.

this time, he’s not letting you come. “pulling me away from people who actually need me just because you can’t go a week without my cock? pathetic,” he groans, feeling sweat pool on his skin, smudging his eyepaint when he finally spills into you, long ropes of his release spanning your aching pussy. in all honesty, he doesn’t really give a fuck if you suffer the consequences of him coming inside of you. he’s sure you’re on a contraceptive, but if you’re not, he deems it as you just being desperate to carry a piece of the bat with you forever, and he’s perfectly content with that.

he’s pulling out in an instant and zipping you back up before his come can spill out of you, leaving you stretched and empty, a whine slipping through your pouted lips. “get outta here before i hand you over to the cops,” “i’m sure they’d love to have you up in arkham, mm, seein’ your pretty little kitty up in a cell.” “you don’t want that, d’you? no? get out,” he’d command all in all, delivering a final smack to your pussy over your suit when he sees you rolling your eyes, and soon enough you’re dashing out of the building.

sure, he thinks he’s in charge, but you know how tightly the bat is wrapped around your little finger. you know he needs your body just as much as you need his, and he’s not as good at hiding his willingness to abide by your calls whenever he arrives on scene, just minutes after you do. the bat is positively pussy drunk, and it’s evident.

i hope you enjoyed <3 requests are open!

#tia’s ask box 💋#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne drabble #batman x reader #batman smut #batman drabble

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rosyblooom · 11 months ago

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levi's jeans | ln4 smau

PAIRING: lando norris x fem quadrant!reader SUMMARY: y/n loves levi's jeans—it's all she wears, ever. so when lando has to draw her in a quadrant video, that's what he draws: levi's jeans. a bad attempt at flirting? maybe, but it gets the ball rolling. A/N: been listening to 'levii's jeans' 24/7 since the album dropped omg

Youtube - Quadrant

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yourusername happy now??? i don't only wear levi's jeans see😌

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username the lando tag??? lmao his drawing is still on her mind💀

username no but the way I didn't even question it when he drew jeans for y/n lool username @/levis I found yall's next collab partner

landonorris Why'd you tag me in this 🤣

yourusername u drew the jeans🙄 username ...how about u guys kiss and makeup hmm?😏

username oop get u a girl that can do both iktr!!

username why do i kinda want them to date tho🧍‍♀️

username babe me too username me three 🙋‍♂️ username i've been thinking little lando has a crush👀 it was soo obvious in the yt vid

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landonorris posted to his story!

[ caption: New Quadrant video out now!! Swipe up to watch ]

Youtube - Quadrant

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[ caption: 👖 ]

[ tagged: yourusername ]

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yourusername posted to her story!

[ caption: let's ride 🏍️ ]

[ tagged: landonorris ]

f1gossipofficial

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f1gossipofficial After two months of being spotted together numerous times in London and Monaco, and stirring up dating rumours, Lando Norris and fellow Quadrant member Y/N L/N were recently seen off the coast of Spain, soaking up the sun and looking pretty cosy.

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username it's already been 2 months??? omg can they just say yes or no i'm tired😩

username can yall not read the room? look at the pics and ask yourself if that's how friend act pls username they've been friends for ages before that, it makes sense not to rush into anything tbh

username OMG Y/N'S NOT WEARING JEANS🤩

username cause they're in the ocean??🤣 username a win is a win idc !!

username noo i hope they're just friends😭💔

username they're both so hot omfg

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yourusername so happy to announce my levi's x y/n collab that's coming out next week friday!!😭 as everyone probably knows (and is sick of lol) i love me some levi's, so this collection has been soo much fun to work on and i'm very excited for you guys to see it!!🤍❤️💙

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riabish soo proud of you 🩷

yourusername ily🥹❤️

username nobody deserved this more than you y/n!! we will be buying !!

_aarava now you have an actual reason to be wearing them as much as you do🤣

yourusername never wearing anything else ever idc !! username hold on now y/n... let's not be rash😀

levis the countdown starts now👀❤️

yourusername 🫶 username i've been wearing y'all since forever where's my collab??

username love you sm y/n!!! <333

username @/yourusername quickly what's ur fav song on cowboy carter??

yourusername levii's jeans ofc😌 username love that for you girl!

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landonorris Never getting sick of your levi's jeans obsession🤣 So proud of you baby ❤️👖

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username took yall long enough🤧

yourusername 🩷🩷

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username i love you y/n🥰

yourusername u guys better not make that stupid emoji trend again istg😐

username hey girl💞 you might wanna stay off twitter for the rest of the day ! username 👖👖👖(🤭)

username fml

username con😭gra😭tu😭la😭tions😭

3:35 ─────────ㅇ─── 4:17

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iwaasfairy · 3 months ago

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┌─ “ ! „ SORRY FOR THE WAIT

tw. yandere, blood/violence implied domestic violence, dubcon, amnesia, obsession, character death, pseudo-cest, overprotective Levi, praise kink, slight authority kink, creampie, marking, non-linear timeline

wordcount. 6.2k

a/n. ♡ commissioned by @amonsterinspring ♡ thank you A MILLION for commissioning mE !! I’ve never written Levi so I was a tiny bit apprehensive but I actually very much enjoyed him and I’m glad you wanted no regrets Levi because he’s so inch resting to meeeee !! So happy to be writing gross shit again <33 i hope you enjoy it !!! And Ofc so many big thanks to rhi and mel for beta-ing <33

levi ackerman x fem!reader

Headquarters’ up in too much outrage for it to be five in the morning, but evidently, things rarely are as they should be here. He barely manages to tie his shirt closed before Hange and Moblit show up behind him, walking down the stairs with a pace slightly too vigorous for an early morning. Damn long legs. Levi’s impatience boils over when neither says anything, or anything of use in four-eyes’ case, and he makes his way toward the courtyard with a tight grunt. “Yer awfully tight-lipped considering.”

Hange nods. “I’m not sure what to say, is all. I could explain…” Her normally talkative hands are set on her hips as she pauses, and once again Levi feels his irritation spiking.

“But? Get to the point, Hange.”

She’s got a look on her face that gives absolutely nothing away.

“It’ll be easier for you to see for yourself, squad commander.” Moblit dutifully finishes, pointing the way through the dusty open area to the long hall. It’s mostly higher ups that walk around the place, some ducking their gaze to avoid his. His glare is instinctive. The lack of swords at his hips leaves his hands settling slightly uncomfortably at his belt instead as he walks, following behind the longer steps of his companions until they finally land at the door.

Expecting, Hange turns to look at him. “Questioning hasn’t lead far, you see. But don’t worry, we handled the situation gently! We all just figured- it might make things easier to bring you here instead of trying to force a break though when… well- you know.”

His eyebrows pull together without any further effort, and his already thin patience this early in the day glides onto it’s last legs. “What the hell are you talking about?” Rambling nonsense as always. He finds his hands moving before he’s able to call upon his patience.

He pushes the door open to the small office, takes in the bookshelves, the desk, pristine— before his stormy gaze falls onto the broad-shouldered blond hunched over. Or more, the figure he’s squatted overhead while Levi walks in. “Erwin? What the fuck are you playing- at.”

A soft, wheezed breath catches him off guard, only spying flashes of the mud-crusted feet, bruised, knobbly knees. He takes a breath, watches Erwin move aside to reveal the scene. Levi suddenly stops halfway when his stomach rolls, and there’s a dull moment where his heart starts to beat between his ears. Loud, hammering his eardrums, it almost has him tumbling over his own feet.

The face lets out a slight smile when watery eyes trail his way- and immediately spill over into thick beads that drip down the long stretch of exposed neck. A faint voice meets his lips like he’s tasting it, and the air in the room goes electric. “L- Levi nii!”

It’s you. Bruised eye and a bit older, but there’s no mistaking that face. The crybaby, wobbly lip, those long, wet lashes. His own breath escapes him for just a moment, only to see you crawl hands and knees towards him as much as the cuffs will allow you.

Hange nods out of the corners of his eyes. “That’s all she’s been able to repeat since we found her. A face you recognise?”

His hands manage to unclench from his belt only to drop aimlessly by his thighs. His eyes can’t move from your shape, a heavy, familiar feeling settling in his chest. You’re actually here. He’s looking you in the face, that same open, accepting gaze that got him the first time.

You found him.

You are asking for him.

Your eyes are blurry from the cold, breaths coming out in puffs in front of your face. You’re stumbling more than walking, as your feet scrape, as they cut open on the thorns that litter the grounds along with the wet leaves— snow touching your face as it falls, your shoulders slumping in defeat.

It’s so cold, you’re so cold and your limbs feel stoned and useless, as you drag yourself on towards the sound of water. Your throat aches, so does your stomach.

You try to remember the place you came from and walk on and on, if only to get a little further away from the threat of violence by strangers. The world’s so barren. Your breaths cloud before you, blurring your vision more. Puff, puff, puff— and you stumble. By landing onto your hands and knees, you scrape both hard in the process, only barely saving yourself from connecting your face with the dirt, and the lack of sleep, of a safe place to curl up and hide away all have your bottom lip wobbling like crazy.

Almost childishly, you just wish a prince on a white horse would come to sweep you away from here. It hurts. The soles of your feet, your face, the swollen area around your eye and brow and your stomach too, going empty for about a day now. You think. Your hands have landed on snow that doesn’t stick long, but it makes it almost impossible to get up and continue. You don’t even remember where you came from, let alone where you were going.

There’s a nice, cloudy gap in your memory where anything of purpose is supposed to sit. You don’t remember your name. Matted hair sticks to your face, and your clothes no longer serve as anything other than another layer to keep the cold, and wet slicked nicely to your body until you freeze to death. The river sounds close, but also still so far away.

Snow falls, and you cast your eyes up through the trees, frozen lashes, cold lips. “Help me,” you croak out, to no one. To yourself. It doesn’t make sense why you push on, but your body moves robotically up from the floor as if controlled by strings, only to stumble over your own feet every few steps. You might not remember anything else, but for some reason— against all logic, you do remember one thing. A name.

It’s the tiny, flickering flame that pushes you on and on as your vision blurs, as energy seeps out of you with each step, with each breath straining against the weight of your own ribs. A flame that becomes more and more faint as you reach pebbles, a slight opening in the trees where snow does stick.

You’re tired, and you want to go home. You want to curl up into a ball and die. Your eyelids flutter shut as you fall still, trying everything to keep upright.

A rhythmic sound approaching. Horses. “Help me,” you squeak. You think you do, if your voice even makes it out of you.

Some noise comes closer, but before you can see it through, your body gives out and you land onto the snowy ground with a thump— knocking you out cold.

“She’s obviously not dangerous, Erwin,” Levi presses fingers to his temple. The crowded room is doing absolutely nothing to relieve the migraine that’s been steadily building since this morning. The meeting room’s filled with people buzzing around like a bunch of insects.

Erwin stands from his desk. “As soon as we’re finished, I can have Miche escort her to a nice room-”

“No. I don’t want anyone else,” Levi bites out, “bringing her anywhere without me around.” His head aches, teeth gritting. His bitching and moaning won’t sway the commander, but still. Miche’s still perched against the windowsill, heavy eyes scanning him.

It’s been years— the guilt of that fact sits heavy on his lungs.

Despite the order otherwise, he marches past and out the door. “I’m taking her to my room. Discussion, over.”

“Captain Levi!” Nifa calls after him, but a sturdy arm stops her in her path with only a tired sigh. The tall form squares his shoulders as Hange takes a seat in one of the chairs across him. He looks tenser than normal.

“And?”

Her glasses are pushed higher on her nose. “She’s no titan, if that’s what you’re worried about. My best guess is amnesia of some kind. I couldn’t say how she got it, though.” After a few seconds, she glances at Moblit. “Say, it isn’t just me, right? Her and Levi totally had something going on, right?”

“Sit down. Right there.”

“Yes, Sir.”

His hand sits low on your back as he guides you into the slightly damp room. Small windows are fogged up high on the wall. Your arms are wrapped uncomfortably around yourself along with the dry jacket over your wet shoulders, and you trepidatiously walk into the tiled room, barefoot. Levi sighs behind you, voice clearing. “Go on.” It feels like it’s a familiar sound, and you follow the order. It’s been a few weeks, but you have still yet to connect the name to the face.

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t exactly the short, head-strong noiret before you. Or rather, you hoped it would’ve sparked something.

You sit at the edge of the baths with a pout and the steam of the filled tub sticks to your lashes. You only manage to strip yourself of Levi’s jacket with his prompting. His hands aren’t soft, but the motion is gentle when sliding the fabric off of you, watching your clammy form unfold as he strips you of the drenched shirt, starts helping you out of the pants. You whisper a slight ‘thank you’ under your breath, because any more right now would take more energy than you have left to expel.

He looks up from where he’s kneeled beside you almost too close, thin brows furrowing as he looks up. “I told you, you’re not supposed to leave unless I’m right on your heel. In any situation. Not only that, but you just about chose the worst weather to make your little break, too.”

“I’m sorry, Sir.’ It makes him frown, nose scrunching, when he has to pull hard to get the pants over your ankles and scratches up feet, dirty and ice cold.

“You’ll be sick by tomorrow.” He’s probably not wrong. The ashy grey eyes flick up at you with -what you guess must be concern- as they shimmer almost brilliantly. It looks a bit strange on his hard, angular face.

You wouldn’t know if it is out of place. He looks cold on the outside. Harsh features, calloused hands, scars wherever you look. You don’t remember what brought you here, or what type of relationship you had. Levi’s care for you so far tells you you two were close, and they’ve told you that you kept saying him name over and over again. You feel like you should trust him. It sucks that you can’t. For some reason, something takes on your breath when you sit still too long.

“I got scared,” you slowly admit, picking at your nails. Like you had to run, run far away. The room they gave you a suffocatingly tight hug.

That’s how you ended up stumbling out of the courtyard towards the woods.

If he’s surprised by your confession, it doesn’t show on his face. He only continues to drop the wet clothes in a pile, then nods his face at the water. “Get in.” His hand takes yours to help you inside the bath, before slowly lacing his fingers with yours. It’s not so much the nakedness you have a problem with, as the lack of his own. Not the quiet you hate, as much as the fact that anyone could come into the communal bathroom when they want. But you don’t want to disappoint Levi by disobeying him twice in a night, so you sit.

Watch him chew on his words for a long time, before speaking. “Are you starting to remember anything yet?”

You suck your lips. “Not really. Not yet.” You remember flashes of Levi’s sharp eyes. Of friends, maybe family? A blond head of hair, a redhead. Sitting in the dark, sleeplessness taking you over. You remember your achy wrists, and you feel it even now, without the cuffs they slapped on you at first. You’re told Levi asked them away— and you’re thankful for that.

”Captain…”

Levi’s other hand wraps around your intertwined ones, and he closes his eyes. “I can’t believe any of this shit. You got taken away from me before— And now, all this…” His expression turns darker as he stares past you, almost as if looking at someone else. “They must’ve really done a number on you, if you don’t remember.” Frost washes over those steely eyes, and his mouth pulls into a thin line. “You promised to stay by my side. I know you never would’ve wanted to break your promise.”

But then he puts his hand on the back of your neck.

The hot steam travels up around you, as he sits beside the tub close enough he could wrap you up in a hug, looking at you like you’re an abandoned toy in need of fixing up. You blink wet lashes at him until he leans in, slots his warm mouth against yours, and his hair tickles your face. His lashes brush your cheeks, and his free hand comes to pet your cheek every so softly. “I’m here now,” his voice is low but as soft as you’ve ever heard him, as he rests his forehead against yours. “I won’t let you put yourself in danger again, okay?”

Your body’s still wound tight from earlier, but it’s only natural that you mellow out in the warmth. “Even if you never get your memories back, I’ll be here for you.” Against the cold of the coming winter, the way he brushes your hair feels so nice. It allows you to let Levi run his lips along your cheek to your jaw, short, puffed breaths against your skin as he pulls you close.

His plush lips linger over your heartbeat, and you swallow against the prey-like urge to scamper out of reach, to instead wrap your arms back around him. Droplets bleed into his shirt, but he doesn’t care one bit. His eyes flutter open and closed a few times as he pulls you into him more, leaning over the edge of the tub to kiss needy kisses all along your neck, to where your shoulder meets your throat.

You instinctively let out a gasp when he bites down, before laving the spot with his lips and tongue. “D’you like this? Does that feel good, baby?” His voice is almost soft, when those dark, blown out irises find you, and you’re letting out tense breaths against him. “Feel good?”

“Mhm.” It’s not hard to figure out what you two were before you got back here. His hand slips down your spine into the water to lift you up against him, pushing his hot lips against you again and again. You taste his tongue, taste his spit when you run your hands through his hair and pull slightly. Not too long ago, this must’ve tasted like love.

You pull back to bite your lip, feel a guilt come over you as you watch him. So hungry for you, it clearly bothers him to be even a few inches away from you.

“I’m sorry for not remembering,” you whisper. Your voice wants to fail you, but you refuse to let tears take over. That wouldn’t be fair to him. A brief pause, then you swallow, eyes fixing on him with a genuine curiosity. “Do you remember everything, Captain Levi?”

The dark itches his skin, takes on his breath. There’s a stench of ammonia, thick, pungent, it almost knocks him over. But that doesn’t matter much when his eyes slide over the dusty, trash-filled room for what he’s looking for. He kicks the bloodied face to the side, pulling his knife out from the pierced temple to wipe it on a handkerchief and pull up his nose. “Fuckin’ pig sty.”

It’s Jan who bothers to search through the dresser, pocketing a few stacks of money. “That’s about 300, Levi.” Not enough. He somehow doubts that anything they find will be enough to pay back the debt. One of the other men closes in on the safe, kneeling before it. Levi’s tight frown only digs deeper.

It wouldn’t take too much to break that open, so with the two of them, they start sliding it out of the spot under the makeshift register. “The rest’s probably in here.”

“Yeah.” He brushes his hair out of his face, ready to leave the brothel behind. It’s only an afterthought to slide open the door of the liquor pantry; kicking through the lock with impatience set on his face. The old wood gives way with a sad creak, and Levi pushes inside. There’s nothing of value, figures.

Only a small cage shoved in the corner, and his hands drop to his side.

“Levi?” Someone calls at his back.

A ghostly figure sits unmoving, crumpled into itself, metal dog collar around the neck— big, desperate eyes avoiding the light streaming into the indentation. Big, obvious blotches litter your skin top to bottom, lips swollen and cracked, your skin almost mannequin-like by the unwashed sheen. His stomach turns at the sight… but more than disgust, he’s taken aback by something else.

His breath stops in his throat for a few beats, as he stares at the pathetic rise and fall of your chest in that skimpy little outfit, pure white lace against the darkness. The pity of your situation is by far outweighed by the beauty of you, and the way his heart pounds in his chest.

He should feel worse. He should probably hate the feeling. The way you stare up at him like a kicked puppy. His mouth cracks open a sliver, slow breath in, slower breath out. If you had a tail, it would wag at the sight of him.

The way you’re looking up at your saviour makes him feel important.

The door thumps before bouncing back into the lock, and a breeze tingles your neck as you snuggle deeper into the blankets. It’s not much, but it’s more than you’ve gotten used to with your last owner. It’s more than enough to sleep comfortably, only hindered by the heavy metal chain that sits around your ankle. You’re not sure why he believes you’d go anywhere. A heavy body drops into the mattress meant for one. For a brief moment, your shoulders rise up to protect your face, spine tensing.

A brief moment that melts away in an instant when you’re confronted by ocean blue eyes in the dark, a soft smile sitting on his cheeks. “Sleepy?” the young man asks, not expecting much of a response before landing his palm on your head in a comforting sort of motion. It’s a drag more than a pat, and his thumb brushes almost patiently over your forehead from between your brows to your crown. A warmth you’ve never really experienced before. If you were sleepy, you no longer are.

Farlan’s a comforting presence that’s only gotten more important with each passing day. The windows to your room are usually leaned open, enough to stick a few fingers through, not your whole hand. It’s enough during the day to catch his eyes peeking up at you from the courtyard, and smiling back when you wave. A sad, guilty sort of smile.

Farlan smells like wood and musk and soap, and to you, it’s the closest you can get to being out there with them with the chain on your ankle.

You swallow, bite your lip. “Levi nii doesn’t like me, does he?”

His blond hair bounces as he rolls onto his side in the silence, and watches you with a strange sort of calculation in his eyes. His hand falls still on your crown, but you lean into the touch before he pulls back. The heat is just so nice. It builds in your cheeks, makes your eyes feel a little hazy, your face softer. Farlan chews on his tongue before speaking. “Why do you think that?”

It’s not so hard to tell. Everyone else is allowed outside. There’s people who come around every day, they carry boxes, work in the street, talk to each other whenever they want. It’s only you that’s kept inside this room— staring at them through the windows; and more than that, Levi always locks the door when they come around. You don’t blame him. You’re sure that if you were better, he wouldn’t have to. You can’t blame the person who saved your life for dealing with you in the way he knows how.

Instead of explaining all that you simply shake your foot, and the loud changing of the metal links fill the room.

Farlan’s eyebrows narrow, and not for the first time, a look of helplessness swipes over his features. “I’m pretty sure Levi aniiki… doesn’t dislike you. He doesn’t even let me in here, normally.”

He pulls the blankets back a bit, uncovering your shoulders from the plush, trails his eyes over the skin in the dark. A fingertip presses into a spot under your jaw that’s achy and bruised that’s only stopped hurting so bad this morning. Then he slides the touch down to the crook of your neck, taps onto another mark. “That Levi aniiki’s doing?”

They’re littered all over.

You don’t have to nod. His expression dims. “Do you even know what’s happening to you here? You don’t, do you.” The words come faster, lingering in the stuffy room. His face shifts, from knowledge, to worry. “Do you even like Levi like that?” Your face goes pouty, and you feel yourself wanting to tilt your head. Confused. A wordless question. Like what, your brain supplies, but maybe because you feel a bit stupid, you don’t speak it.

Maybe because of the closeness and the heat in your face and the warmth of his touch, his care, his attention— you can’t do anything but suck your bottom lip between your teeth. Farlan’s face is closer than it was, you’ve pushed yourself closer. The darkness of night no longer feels so dark when he’s here with you and your heart’s beating fast, really fast. It’s slamming rhythmically in the silence. He pulls his hand away as he smiles, but you reach out to grab it. “Do you like him?” He asks again.

Do you like Levi nii? Of course you do. If not for him you might’ve been left behind forever, stashed behind the walls like a dirty secret. It’s a given that you like him. You like that he sits with you and tells you you’re pretty and when he comes home for the night he lets you snuggle up on his chest and feel every bit of touch that you were missing during the day. When he’s nice he’s really nice, though he doesn’t like to say it in words. You’re similar in that way.

When he’s happy with you, you get spoiled. You like Levi. Farlan’s finger brushes over the tip of your nose when you bring it close to your face, soft, searching touch. It isn’t the same as Levi’s closeness though. When Farlan’s close, you feel entirely floaty, drifting on the breeze of the breaths you two share. Levi’s kind of like is grounded. The blond’s staring like he’s seeing every cell of you at once, and you find yourself saying something before you can think about it fully. “I like you.”

He smiles genuinely at that, taken aback. You two share the space in the bed that’s yours alone. You take up the space nudged into the crook of his neck, feel the breaths dust over your crown. You’re sure when your throat runs dry, and your lashes flutter against his skin.

After a few minutes of quiet, Farlan finally seems to breathe a full breath again. “Tell me. Do you want me to take you out of here?”

Your eyes flutter. A tense, slight frown comes to sit between your brows, and your lips jut into a pout.

“Here, be a good girl.” Your big eyes shift from the door back to him, when he kneads his hands that are settled on your tits, rubbing your pebbled nipples until you shift. A little from the touch, a little from your discomfort as you’re gyrating onto his body. You try to nod, he thinks, because your interrupted by a shiver when his mouth takes one of them inside to suck, and have you whimpering above him. Cute. Moldable.

Your hands move to his head to practically curl yourself around his head and trail your hands through his hair like you’re a kneading cat, and your motion shoves his face between your tits even more. It’s so fucking cute, perfect, as you squirm like you’re not sure what to do with yourself. He’s pretty sure that’s actually quite accurate. As you’re moaning and squeaking though, and he shifts to the other nipple to rub his tongue over it, you let out a soft whine. “Levi nii- it’s… I-embarrassing.”

He grunts into your embrace, one hand slipping around to get under your ass and reposition you onto him better, so that the heat of your pussy grinds against him through the thin scraps of fabric you’re dressed in. “It’s not embarrassing. You’re doing good.” His cock’s rock hard against you. Shouldn’t that be enough to tell you that? If you had any experience with any of this, it would.

“It is!” You pant, and your hips stop moving around like you’re halfway to crawling away, to unclamp yourself from his head, to lean back onto both arms and watch him through teary, drowsy eyes. “I keep making noises even though I don’t mean to, and everything feels weird- and- and I’m sticky, aniiki.” A brilliant blush sits on your face, from your nose to your ears, and it’s as hot as it is adorable, the way you’re writhing around a bit like an animal in heat. He doesn’t need to ask if it feels good, because it’s written on your face.

He goes back to playing with your tits a bit longer, because you’re so soft and warm and wrapped in his blankets, he just wants to eat you up. You sometimes ask him why he keeps you around. A ridiculous notion, as if he would even have the thought of not keeping you. You’re his woman. His, and his alone - it’s not up for debate. You just don’t know it yet, because of your lack of experience. Rough hands pinch at your nipples until you’re shoving at his shoulders and squirming away, underwear sticking to your wet pussy.

Your kicked-dog sort of expression is replaced with furrowed brows when you pant the next thing, glancing back at the door with a pout. “Aniiki~~ it’s embarrassing! Farlan nii’s gonna know.” His jaw clenches, and within a single blink he has you turned around. Pressed back into his bed under his pinning weight, his thin eyebrows furrowing despite himself. Your eyes go wide, suddenly apologetic.

He doesn’t hear you out. “It’s not. If I tell you it’s okay, then it’s okay.” The heat between your two bodies streams down, as he yanks one leg over his thigh to get in between your legs and starts drawing his long fingers along the edge of the seat of your panties. Soaked through, sticky. He brings his fingers to his mouth to suck them clean, and taste the pure, unchanged taste of you. “Stop bringing other people up. I’ve already told you that when we’re in here, you should only think about me. When you’re in my bed-”

“Levi nii is the boss. I know, I’m sorry.” You rap out quicker than he can continue, apologetically smoothing your hands over his chest. “I just… My body always feels weird when we do this.”

He holds the urge to let his face break out into a bit of a grin. How fucking cute can you be… instead he starts peeling off your panties and watch how you obediently move your legs together and up to make it easy, runs his hands up, up, up along your thighs, calves, over your feet. He licks his lips at the sight of you, can’t help it. You let him rock his hips against you, placing his hands both sides of your face, and lean in. “Give me a kiss, come on. If you give me a kiss, I won’t chain you up tomorrow.”

You used to be unable to. Too shy, too cautious, the marks left on you had taken a toll. But look at you now. Almost as if by instinct, you dutifully press your lips to his awaiting mouth, let him lean into your space and take you. It took some time, and you used to cry - but doesn’t this feel so good now. Aren’t you happy he treats you so well? You kiss him slow and deep, letting him open your lips and slip his tongue into your mouth, while his hands rub over your wet pussy.

You’re whining into it though at his touch, mumbling like a pathetic, little thing. “‘M sore, Levi nii~” You must be. Your pussy still slicks though, welcoming him, letting his fingers rub the overstimulated bud again. He wasn’t so nice this morning, or last night.

Your thick lashes flutter when you pull back with a pout, and watch him toy with your body.

“You’re glaring like you don’t want this.” He comments. You shake your head half-heartedly. In truth, it used to be like that. You used to kick and scream before you toned down. But you got there eventually, and now - you’re soft enough to let him do however he likes. You trust him enough to fill you up to the brim and let him spill hot cum inside you, without crying. You still move your body half into, half away from his touch— like you can’t decide if you want him to keep going, so he makes the choice for you. “Open up.”

You shiver under him but move your legs open further, as his fingers trail into the wetness to your clit. “So good, baby.” Soft circles make you scrunch your face up, and harder circles make your back lift from the mattress into a perfect arch that makes his cock twitch in his boxers. Boxers that get pushed down to reveal his weeping, flushed head, and pushing it along your lips with a hiss. “You know what I like to hear, come on. Say it.”

You flush, heat blooming on your cheeks again. Your legs wrap around his hips, and you look away in mock-decency. Drives him crazy. Makes him want to ruin you. “Th- thank you for r-rescuing me. I love… -I love when you play with me like this.”

”Yeah?” He lines his cock up with your slick lips and pushes inside, ignoring the resistance as he dives into your heat. “I know you do. I know you like doing- t-this. You’re a good, little pet for me. We’re close, aren’t we. There’s no one closer to you than I am.” He bottoms out into that perfect warmth only to pull back, wet, glistening, and dive back into you. Your eyes bulge a little, and your hands find his shoulders as your head falls back.

”Ah, ah- Aniiki. I- I’m still sore. It hurts.” You yelp softly when his body connects to yours, and your tits bounce because of the impact.

“Shhh, shh, I’ll make it feel good. Just a little more.” His rhythm moving the bed along with you, as you clamp your eyes shut and wrap your arms around him to hang on. He doesn’t mean to hurt you, of course. But you just feel so good. So inviting, diving into that clenching, warm embrace as his cock slides in and out of you, and slick gushes out along it. “That’s it, baby. That’s it. So good for Levi nii, aren’t you? You’re a good little hole for me.”

“Agh, Levi nii. Aniiki!” His declarations of love fall on deaf ears, because you’re hanging on like you’re on a cliff, whining and the pressure building inside you. Even after hundreds of times, you still look so woefully underprepared whenever he rubs just right against your pussy. Coarse hair and friction all make you look like you can explode any second now, and he thrives when looking at it. Could you not look so fucking pathetic all the time? It’s not his fault that you look so fucking hot like this, squirming on his cock, moaning, begging. “I’m full— I’m so full. Agh, Levi!”

He lets you have more, take more of his cock, harder, deeper. Your poor pussy squelches every time he bottoms out, and your body moves around on the mattress just enough to rub yourself against the thumb he’s pressing to your clit. “You’re so pretty like this, so fucking— good. Tell me you want it.”

Your back lifting from the bed, he can tell when your stomach starts clenching, and your legs wrap tighter around him. “Yes, yes, yes! Wan’it- agh, ah, ah! Levi.” His balls hit your ass every time he goes in and you feel so good, so soft— hotter than anyone should be.

“Tell me you love me. You don’t want anyone else.” You’re whining like you’re mindless, and pull him, scratch along his shoulder blades with a desperation for purchase. You can’t say it in words, but he knows it means ‘keep going, I’m close, I’m so close’. He knows it means ‘I love you.’ That’s why he pushes his mouth to yours again, that’s why he rocks his cock right into that spot that makes you go a bit cross eyed.

He’s doing this all for you. You mewl and suck his tongue and push your tits against him, let him fucking into you so deep you feel conjoined, and then even past that. It’s the heat and the pressure and the touch of you on him that’s making him grunt, his balls pull to his body. He fucks into you until he can’t possibly keep the rhythm anymore, and his shoulders pulls up into a squared position above you.

He pants, sweat rolling down his chest from the effort and the warmth. “You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine.” Kissing you doesn’t possibly feel deep enough, but god, you feel good. Heavenly. He’ll stay here with you if that’s what it takes. Nothing’s going to change that. “You’re not going anywhere. Ever.” His cock settles so deep inside you he can see it on your face, twisting between pain and pleasure, and you fall into your orgasm with a rough, desperate cry. Your walls constrict around him, and it’s enough to make him reach his high too.

Sliding in and out, in and out, as hot cum shoots into you and he presses his forehead to yours. “Fuck, fuck- I need you here.”

It’s too dark to make out much of anything, except the frantic energy in the whispers.

“Hurry, come on.”

Your cuffs jingle loud into the night, dragging your chain behind you. It wasn’t possible on your own, but another set of hands got it undone relatively easily, and now, it’s just the sound of your breaths into the night as you look behind you. The house gets smaller before it disappears from your view, and you pant out breaths into the cold night. “Farlan,“ you breathe out, not stopping, “what’s happening?”

Your arm is held steadily in his soft fingers, at a pace as quick as your weakened body will allow. He doesn’t speak until you’ve made it far, far beyond the line of houses that you could see from your window. More than you can remember seeing, ever. “Don’t worry, everything’s okay.”

The night is dark, but when you two finally stop moving, the path forward is even darker. A deep hole in the walls that seems to go up into infinity. You pull your arm away, and look at him, stomach turning. “Farlan…”

There’s no one around, lights are dimmed, and the whole place seems abandoned. All that’s left to notice is the air blowing past your neck, a draft that ruffles your hair. Farlan’s eyes are full of compassion. “I want to do the right thing.” For some reason, wetness wells up in your eyes as you watch him take you in wholly, and gently pull you into a hug. “If we go up here, we’ll get to the surface.”

He pushes a kiss to your temple, smiles bright like he always does. “You go ahead. I’ll be right behind you.” The breeze carries the fresh air into your lungs, and your toes are cold.

Farlan’s breaths go quiet as Hell unfolds itself. Instinctively, his hand is still wrapped around the gurgling wound pulsing blood, but his limbs have gone numb. And Levi’s blind anger has him wailing punch after punch, panting heavily before pulling the knife out. His hands drip blood, as the sun rises at the end of the staircase. It’s barely a white dot in an inky canvas, but the doubt does seep in. You wouldn’t have left him. You wouldn’t, you couldn’t.

He loves you, and you him. His only light in this fucking place. You’d never go on your own. You’ll be waiting for him to get you back.

#aot smut #levi smut #levi ackerman #attack on titan smut #levi dc #tw.yandere #tw.pseudocest #tw.dubcon #tw.dark content #tw.blood #levi ackerman smut #snk levi #snk smut #levi x reader #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.levi

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taintedcigs · 1 year ago

Text

— cowboy hat rule.

pairing: cowboy!steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: smut, p in v, MINORS DNI!!!!, pet names, praising, kinda degrading but not really, a lil argument, dom!steve, rivals to fcking, swearing, good old bj for our good boy stevie! reader has a nickname 'sunshine' bc i didn't wanna do y/n sorry:(

summary: helping out mr. harrington in his ranch was supposed to be fun, but steve harrington was an asshole. an absolute pain in your ass that teased you, and you gave him the same energy back, always. so when you unknowingly wear his cowboy hat, he decides to teach you what exactly the cowboy hat rule is. (wc: 5k+)

author's note: this is just horny babbling. i have no idea how cowboy lore works so if im wrong pls just close ur eyes i tried to research but i couldnt find shit just pls i just want cowboy steve dick. and ofc no proof-reading bc im lazy as hell. no dividers ugly aesthetic bc of tumblrs f ass not showing my shit in tags SIGH.

also PLSSS LIKE + REBLOG + COMMENT TO SUPPORT ME MWAH ILY

When you told Mr. Harrington you’d be more than happy to help around his Ranch during the summer, you didn’t expect Steve to become a problem, but you were wrong, so fucking wrong.

A cocky cowboy who’s way too into partying and into his looks and his fluffy hair than you could ever imagine. That’s exactly how you’d describe Steve Harrington. Even though you so badly wanted to believe otherwise, wanted to disregard the rumors and the reputation that came with him. But, he made it so goddamn hard.

All he fucking did was tease you, complain. Order you around and act like you didn’t know how to do shit. And, you didn’t, but he was supposed to be your guidance, teach you. But all he did was grumble and give you that goddamned smirk.

Yet, you couldn’t fully hate him, there was a side of him he rarely showed you, one that cared, one that offered you rides—it was more of a mumble each night but you accepted nonetheless, one that ended up at your side whenever an asswipe bothered you at the bar, one that offered you a hand on your back when you were crying, he didn’t ask what happened, didn’t speak, just stood there, letting you spill out your guts. The two of you never spoke about these incidents, ever, because he acted like they didn’t exist, like he couldn’t bear the thought of being nice to you.

You were so fascinated by him, even though you’d never admit it out loud. He was charismatic, outright funny, and had a heart of gold that you only peered one layer of.

And fuck it, he was fine, annoyingly good-looking that he was a distraction to be around when you were supposed to be working, him with those sturdy denim jeans that cupped his ass perfectly, wide-brimmed cowboy hat with a creased crown, put perfectly on his head. Even though you’d much rather see his pretty hair falling on his face, run your hands through his smooth layers.

Usually, when it got as hot as it did today, he’d even take off that stupid shirt, feast your eyes with his glimmering chest, all hairy and glistening with sweat, broad shoulders as he ordered everyone around made you gulp. Like he is doing with you, right fucking now.

“Sunshine, get back to work.” Heat travels to your cheeks quickly, and that stupid nickname rolls off his lips so bitterly, the one he always called you just because you were all nice and smiley—even when he was being an asshole to you, something that grinded his gears, you guessed it was a foreign concept to him, being nice.

You were quick to shake off the hold he had on you, getting back on your feet as you stood your ground. “I am working! Just needed a second to breathe!” The lies rolled off your lips so simply that you wondered if he caught you staring. When he turned around to leave, you guessed he hadn’t.

“Asshole.” The insult leaves you before you can register how close Steve still was to you.

Turning head-spinningly fast. “What did ya say?” He spits, making you gulp physically.

He looks out of the world stunning when he’s mad, maybe it’s a toxic trait of yours but, fuck, the way his chocolate hues turn unrecognizable, that slight quirk of his brows, and the way his muscles flex in pure anger made you rub your thighs together.

Jesus Christ. He is getting into your head, and you hate that you think of him this way when he is so mean.

“Nothing! I’m just saying it’s really hot out today,” you hum, the sun rays hitting your face not making it easier on the heat that flame your cheeks.

He gives you a snort, all mocking once he takes a step closer, making you feel hotter if that is possible. “Well that’s what happens in the summer, darlin’”

Hand on the wall he tilts his head slightly, all with sass that has you rolling your eyes. “Or did you expect the weather to give Miss Sunshine some sorta special treatment?”

You roll your eyes, an act you always did that makes Steve’s jaw clench. “Oh, come on Steve! It’s really, really, hot, and the sun is all on my face!”

“Boo-hoo, princess,” he mocks, tipping his hat, almost as if to tease you further.

You scoff, getting closer to him. “Easy for you to just stand around in that big hat!” With a narrowed gaze, you cross your arms against your chest, like a brat, another trait that annoyed Steve even further.

Then, you beam again, and Steve knows no matter how much you hate it, Sunshine is absolutely the nickname you deserve, eyes glistening with happiness that it annoyingly even brings a glint to his pretty amber hues. His gaze unintentionally droops down to tour lips, so plushy and soft looking when it curls into that pretty smile that Steve wants to kiss you all over.

“Oh! Do you mind if I?” You ask all giggly, pointing toward his wide-brimmed hat, hand teasingly standing above his head.

He scoffs as if you had just asked him the most insulting question ever. “Not a chance,” he spits, now he crosses his arms in front of his chest, eyeing you with a dark glint in his eyes, one you couldn’t decide was full of annoyance or just pure desire.

“Mhmmm… okay,” you hum, feigning innocence for a second, before snatching it off his head with another hearty giggle.

Oh, what he would do to hear that on a loop, admire the way your lips stretched into the prettiest grin, brows quirked.

“Sunshine!” He chides, much rougher than he intends to, but you don’t pay attention to him when you place the hat carefully on your head, smoothing your hair.

You shrug, looking up at him with those doe eyes that have him melting, everytime, without fail. “Admit it, looks better on me.” You shrug, expecting him to agree.

Instead, he just offers you a deep sigh of breath, eyes almost widening when he realises what you just did. “Do you even—”

He huffs, hiding the obvious pink shade thats starting to color his cheeks, you really had no idea the hold you had on him, did you? “God, you city girls have no idea about anything, huh?”

Your brows furrow. “What?”

“Cowboy hat rule?” He asks with a tilt of his head, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest.

A teasing smile curves on your plushy lips as you push for more information. “What’s that?”

“Just give me the hat back,” he insists, attempting to mask the warmth that crept into his tone.

With a shake of your head, your defiance only grows, a glint of mischief dancing in your gaze. “Not until you tell me the rules.”

“Sunshine,” he warns, voice so grumbly that heat travels all over your body quicker than the sun burning you.

“Steve?” You hum with a flirty gaze, so teasing that Steve wants to fuck you right then and there, until he teaches you proper manners, until he shows you not to be a total fucking brat and not to roll your eyes at him, until he shows you that you’re his.

But, of course, he settles on a low grumble of, “You’re annoying.”

“You used to be more creative with the insults, Harrington.” Another teasing remark, and Steve rolls his tongue inside of his mouth.

With a smirk, he takes another step toward you, when your back hit the walls of the barn, only then you realise, he has you cornered. “You wanna know the cowboy hat rule, princess?” He asks all smugly.

Gaze meaner than he is, chest almost pressed against yours, voice so low that all you can do is slightly nod.

Your breath gets hitched in your throat when his face is mere inches away from yours, hot breath fanning against your cheeks, skin heating on the impact, that brattiness you wear as a mask quick to slip off when he’s all demanding. “You wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.” His tone is almost a growl, pupils blown wide, making you gulp, physically.

“What?” You blink, unsure of what he’s actually asking. Excitement jumping around in your tummy.

“You heard me. Wanna take me for a ride, Sunshine?” He is so goddamn close that you are sure he can hear the annoying tumble your heart does at the weight of what his words hold.

It makes you pause, gaze sticking on his, sometimes slipping away to his soft lips, almost to signal him of something, but all you can do is try to hide the embarrassment that burns your cheeks.

“Didn’t think so,” he scoffs, backing away just slightly.

His cowboy hat is too big on your head, tipping low over your eyes, possibly hiding your nervousness as you mutter, “What if I do?”

With a smooth motion, he flips it off from your head, holding it with his palm, away from you. “Get back to work, Sunshine.”

“I’m serious—”

“So am I, those horses ain’t gonna straddle their strap themselves, off. to. work,” he hisses, turning to leave.

You huff, heat still burning off your cheeks, more embarrassed than annoyed, yet you still don’t have it in yourself to let it go, you can’t let him have this. Win this.

Quick to snatch the hat back, “So the hat rule is, wear the cowboy hat, ride the cowboy, huh?” You mumble behind him, your voice failing you, yet you appear to be giggly, and Steve heaves a deep sigh of breath, before fully turning to you.

He halts a bit when he sees you once again, in his hat, tipped low, that stupidly addicting smirk gracing your slightly-open lips, hand on your hips, and all he wants to do is fuck you till you lose that attitude of yours.

“Stop,” he warns, taking a step closer to you but with a shake of your head you back away, and he sighs, loud and annoyed.

“Gimme that, sunshine!”

“Nuh-uh.” All teasing and bratty, and grating on Steve’s last nerve. You know this, yet you wanna keep pushing him, further and further, until he snaps, until he can’t take it anymore. You have no reason to do this, you’re supposed to hate him, think of him as an annoying asshole.

But the two of you are finally tethering on that line, the line between purely teasing each other out of spite, to teasing each other out of flirting, you know that, and you don’t wanna take a step back. “Prove it.”

You are all up in his face, and all he can do his roll his eyes, cheeks beetle red, frustration worn on his face. “Knock it off.”

You tut gently, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Not until you—” Your words are interrupted quickly when he snatches up the hat from your head in annoyance, making you gasp when he discarded it easily.

“Get back to work!” His voice raises, and it makes you take a deep breath.

Shit, did you fuck this up?

“What?” You question, entire body feeling dizzy. He takes a step closer.

“You heard me.”

Another step closer, his breaths come out in short gasps, frustration taking over him. “Get back to fuckin’ work, before I can’t stop myself.”

He is close. Too fucking close, and you can’t help the way your gaze droops down to his soft lips, slightly parted open, downturned from frustration. God, you realize how hot he is when he is angry, once again. “F—from what?”

He hesitates, before licking his lips. This is it. He wants, no, he desperately needs you. Needs to put you to your place. Teach you what happens to bratty girls like you. Show you what exactly the stupid rule is. “From fucking you in this goddamn barn.”

You release the breath you’ve been holding back, feeling small, so small under his gaze. Mouth hanging open, and all you want is him to pin you against the wall, have you screaming out his name. “From making sure I show you how the goddamn cowboy hat rule works.”

Your back is plastered against the wall, his hands are by your side, you are caged beneath him, chest rising in anticipation. “Is that what you want, honey, think you can handle all of that?” He’s so smug, and you don’t know what overtakes you when he’s all in control like this, you wanna obey him, make him happy, proud, so you bite back on your insults.

His smirk is dangerously alluring, and you’re under his spell.

“Please,” you beg, heat finds your cheeks again, you hate the hold he has on you.

He barks out a chuckle, so mean, yet as equally hot. “Please, what? Speak up,” he spits, rolling his tongue inside of the roof of his mouth, lips wearing a smirk.

“Ruin me,” your voice is small, meek, yet it makes him groan.

You’re such a good girl for him, and he wants nothing more than to ruin you. Fully. Completely. Ruin you for every other man.

His head ducks down to your neck, leaving a sloppy kiss before leaning into your ear, his breath hot on your neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Goddamit darlin’, you gonna be the death of me, huh?”

You don’t—you can’t answer, you’re speechless, rubbing your thighs together desperately, seeking some friction, a touch, anything.

He levels with you again, dangerous gaze on your lips, fingertips brushing against your cheeks teasingly “You know what I always wanted to do, sunshine?” He coarses lowly.

“W—what?” You ask with a gulp, lips twitching with need.

He gives you another grin, that asshole. The pad of his thumb slowly caressing your lips now, making you shiver with hunger. “Always wanted to put you to your place, you and that damn smart mouth, always runnin’ it for no good reason. I’d give you a good reason for those pretty lips, huh? Use it the way I wanna use it, fill it the way I wanna feel it,” he grunts like he said the most normal thing, yet you’re already squirming, wanting to open your lips, take his fingers in your mouth and suck on them, show him how much of a good girl you can be for him.

He has you on such a hold already, and you can’t complain. For someone who seemed to be annoyed—hell, even hated him a few minutes ago, you feel crazy, batshit insane, all you want is him.

His fingertips play with your lips all teasingly, pupils blown wide, the other hand caresses your hair so possessively that you melt into his touch. “You gonna be good for me sweet thing?”

He doesn’t have to ask you twice. “Y—yes, sir.”

Sir.

Godfuckingdammit. You don’t know the hold you have on him, do you?

He bites back on the moan that rumbles in his throat, instead settling on a, “Good girl.” Your puppy dog eyes glint at the praise, and he makes a mental note of it. .

“Get on your knees f’me, darlin’,” he grumbles, and you’re quick to obey, not minding the uncomfortable feeling of the wooden floors scraping your knees, or the fact that anyone might’ve walked in, the door was locked, and there was probably no one around yet Mr. Harrington might’ve returned to the ranch at any moment. But he made you feel safe, somehow.

You look up at him with those doe-eyes again, making him suck in a breath before he unbuttons his jeans and pushes them off his hips, boxers so tight around his hard cock that he grunts involuntarily.

Your eyes go wide the second his erection springs free, almost hitting the tip of your nose, red, angry and leaking with pre-cum, he lets out a chuckle at your expression before grabbing the base of his cock.

Same eyes, looking up at him all hungrily, Steve feels the way blood rushes quickly to his cock, making him harder if that's even possible, with a groan he runs the leaking tip across your lips. “Open up.”

Your hand replaces his quickly, and he runs his fingers through several strands of your hair, teaching you how exactly he wants you.

You open your mouth wide, just like he likes it, tongue giving his slit kitten licks, moaning at the taste of his salty pre-cum, wrapping your plushy lips around his thick head, and sucking the life out of him, determined, and feigning innocence with the soft gaze you held.

Head thrown back, heavy boots planted on the harsh ground, he lets out a low groan, stroking your hair all softly. “Look at you s’pretty like this for me.”

His hand wraps tighter around your hair, pushing you onto him, making sure you gag a little and that only spurs you on, making you whine around his cock, the sound reverberating through his chest. “Cat got your tongue, darlin’?” He chuckles all meanly.

“God, do you have any idea how many times I wanted to shut up that bratty mouth like this?” He asks with grunts leaving his open mouth, hand working harshly around your head, mouth feeling like heaven the more you bob around his thick length, struggling to take all of him.

“Those pretty lips are—mmpf, shit—better stuffed with my cock than being a spoiled lil’ city girl runnin’ her mouth, ain’t that right, baby?” You nod meekly, angelic eyes seeking for his validation before you flatten your tongue around the sensitive part of his tip, struggling to take all of him in your mouth. Earning guttural moans, eyes squeezed shut as he feels your soft lips wrapped around him again.

“Fuck, sweet thing.” You can feel his filthy grunts straight in your core, all low and lewd that you almost moan around him again, he puts one hand on the wall, helping himself to better move in and out of your throat.

He knows if you keep this up, he’ll cum right and there, and fuck, he needs that. But he needs to be inside of you more.

You keep up your stroking, now adjusting yourself properly to start licking and sucking on his balls. “Sunshine, you need to s—stop,” the words barely leave his lips, he so doesn’t want you to stop. But, he needs to cum inside of you.

Yet, you don’t listen to him as your movement speeds up, determined to feel his load warming your throat, make him proud, and your mouth bobs harder around his length, making him growl at you harshly. “Sunshine,” he warns, pulling you by your hair.

You’re quick to take a deep breath of air once he pulls you off, looking up at him with the perfect innocent eyes, your lips wearing the prettiest pout. “Was that not good for you, Stevie?”

Stevie. That nickname makes his head spin faster, all he wants to do is fuck you against those stupid rustic walls, have you screaming out for him, the whole ranch filled with your filthy noises, no one was around anyway.

“You kiddin’, sweetheart?” He gives you a chuckle, wrapping his hands around your jaw, pulling you off the floor.

“You were fuckin’ amazing,” he hums, leaning down to kiss you, tasing the salty semen on your tongue.

His hands are quick to travel along to your waist, fingertips finding their way onto your panties rather quickly, earning a gasp out of you. “Need to be in here first, honey.”

You nod, so quickly that you can feel him grinning into the kiss, his hands are everywhere, yours are more or less the same, quick to get rid of his top, to feel his toned chest in your soft hands, your top is sprawled right next to his, revealing your pink and gold bra at him, breasts peeking out just enough to have him groan, big hands quick to get rid of them.

He has you caged against the amber walls, back hitting the rough material, making you hiss. Your skin heats at the impact, it’s filthy, lewd, and so public, but none of you even care enough to break the kiss. He settles between your thighs, his pants drooped to his ankles, hands rubbing across your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

The sight of you so easily submitting to him, makes his cock grow harder than he thought was possible, looking so ethereal that Steve forgets all about everything else. “Sunshine,” he breathes, hands fiddling with the hem of your panties.

“Mhmm,” is all you can muster, legs slightly open for him, and he almost feels possessive over you, it’s entirely stupid, but he looks so fucking alluring with those dark chestnut eyes, layered hair a mess, and cock weeping entirely with the thought of you.

His thumb runs over the seam of your pussy, just a glimpse of how his fingers are going to ruin you, and you pulse and clench against him already. Wet. Drenched. And all ready to take him. “You’re soaked,” he groans.

Leaning further into your ear, “is that all for me, honey?” he rasps, desperate, needing your confirmation.

Heat grows in your cheeks faster than a scorching day in July, and he grins, again, all cocky and proud. “Yes,” you admit meekly, and Steve’s quick to kiss your worries away.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he growls, swirling your wetness up and around your slit, almost toying with you, having you desperately mewl for him.

He can’t put his finger on it, what it is that draws him this much into you, but he’s hooked, so goddamn obsessed that he feels like an idiot, for being this much of an asshole, for acting like a grade school boy who’s pulling the pigtails of his crush. Like a stupid cliche.

“Stevie.” That nickname, again. Godfuckingdammit, Steve thinks. You have him so wrapped around your finger, it’s like a prayer, and he’s sure you’re not aware of it. And it drives him even crazier. “Please.”

“Talk to me.” His voice is low, lips now nipping at your neck, suckling, giving you all the marks you need.

“I need you,” you hum, eyes squeezed shut, desperate. His finger discard your panties and slide easily inside of you, your back is fully dipped into the well-worn walls with how good he feels, his thick fingers making their way in and out of your soppy cunt, whines leave your lips faster than you can comprehend.

“Ruin me, Steve, fully, completely.” You don’t know how those words leave past your lush lips, but your thighs ache with need, cunt throbbing for him and him only.

His eyes widen quickly, pure hunger quick to fill his veins, mouth hanging open, curses leaving his lips at how forward you are being. “Show me the cowboy hat rule, sir.”

Steve all but groans, mouth harshly on yours again, chests pressed together and you can feel how hard he truly is, rock stiff, and aching to be inside of you. The sheer size of how he feels against your thighs almost makes your eyes bulge again.

His fingers stop moving in and out of you, before you can whine, he spins you around so fast that you gasp loudly, hands immediately plastered on the wall, pleasure and excitement fills your tummy, but the fact that he’s seeing you all vulnerable like this is embarrassing enough that you try to close your legs.

He’s quick to stop you with a grin, rough hands landing on the back of your thighs, spreading them open while tutting you. “Nuh-uh. Don’t get all shy now, princess. Spread them open f’me.” You spread them a little, cunt throbbing with how close his fingers are.

He groans again once he fully gets a view of you like this, face down, ass up, your pussy slicked with your juices, at his mercy. “‘M gonna ruin you, honey, don’t you worry.” A dark chuckle barks out from his chest, sending chills down your spine, almost making you whine.

Fuck.

His hands are rough when he has you by your waist, bruising almost. Lining his cock in front of your slick core, he swipes the head of his reddened tip inside of you with one forceful thrust. Your plushy lips open slightly, stealing your breath away as you try to adjust to his size.

Shit, shit, shit, he feels even better than you fucking expected.

His cock splits you open, filling every goddamn inch of you. You don’t know how many times you thought this, but, shit, he’s as big as the gossip in this small town says he is.

His thrusts are slow, grunts so loud and heavenly that it spurs you on more and more. His weight on you, the bruising hold. You feel him everywhere. On your back, hips, and fucking inside of you.

“F-fucking, fuck!” he growls, leaving nibbles all over your shoulder and back, even with the fact that this was Steve, and he was rough and filthy, it was wildly intimate, so wildly intimate that you could feel your heart pounding inside of your chest.

“How are you this fuckin’ tight, s-sweetheart?” One of his hands travel up to your neck, roughly holding you down, hips slamming into you with such force that you cry out.

He watches the way his girthy cock disappears in and out of you, wetting himself with your juices, filling every inch of you. “Doin’ s’good for me, princess.” His praises are heavenly, making your chest swell with pride.

He moves inside of your soppy cunt with short thrusts. Completely bottomed out, thrusting against the same sensitive spot every time as his balls, heavy with cum grind against your clit, with each movement, making you cry out his name, babbles leaving your mouth. “Yeah, you like this don’t ya? Want me to ruin this slutty pussy, huh? Ruin it for every other men?”

You nod all dumbly, yet, it isn’t enough for him. He wants to hear you, have you scream it out. “Say it, sweet thing, fuckin’ say it,” he groans, coarse voice making tingles appear everywhere on your skin.

“I-I love it, Stevie, want you to ruin me for everyone else, mmpf,” you moan all fucked out, eyes rolled all the way back to your head, hips desperately grinding against him for some more friction.

He picks up his pace, fucking into you with reckless abandon.“F-fuck doll, won’t last if you keep runnin’ that dirty mouth.”

But his words just encourage you to keep going, gasps coming out in short breaths as you manage to drive him crazier. “All yours, sir, all yours.”

He grunts at that, one of his arms snaking around and under your hips to find a better angle, lifting you up so that he can fuck his cock deeper into you, make you feel how fucking big he really is. “That’s right, baby, it’s all fuckin’ mine.”

Hot tears spill down your cheeks, entire body burning with it. The slick sounds of his hips driving into you, your moans, his low groans are all that fill the room. So fucking filthy, and you can feel yourself clenching around him.

It’s all too much; his hands everywhere, the lewd noises he makes, how deep his girthy cock is bottomed out inside of you, making you feel every ridge. It’s fucking perfect, and you desperately need to cum.

And of fucking course, Steve can feel your pussy gripping him, so tight that he knows he’s gonna cum right after you do. “Gonna cum f’me, huh? Such a good girl,” he praises, again, knowing the effect it has on you and all you can do is gasp and weakly nod.

One of his thumbs quickly finds your clit, making your pussy throb around him in pure ecstasy, all the overstimulation enough to have you crying like a bitch in heat. “Give it to me, angel,” he murmurs, pressing open-mouthed kisses everywhere on your skin.

His movements pick up, padded thumb rubbing circles around your clit, the other hand landing on your nipples, twisting them while pumping into you, it’s all too much that it makes you sob and beg for him.

“Cream my cock, let me ruin you completely, darlin’” It’s all the confirmation you need as your orgasm builds and washes through you, body exploding with pleasure, spreading through your skin as you scream out his name.

Your pussy squeezes and pulses around his cock, and he fucking knows, he won’t last, not in the slightest. “S-shit, sweet thing, gonna make me cum with all those filthy noises.”

“Want that, honey, hmm? Wanna be filled with my cum? Show everybody in this town who owns ya? Owns this tight lil’ cunt?” He feels it, that pure hunger for you over taking him, coarse voice, dark eyes, like a man possessed. His fingers dig further into your skin as he desperately chases his orgasm, enjoying the sloppy sounds your pussy makes as he drives into you.

“P-please, Stevie, n-need your cum,” you weakly hum. And it fucking breaks him. Hips losing all rhythm when he spills his warm load into you, twitching inside of you once he pumps you full of his cum.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Sunshine,” he breathes, collapsing on your back, both of you trying to come down from the high. He slips free of you slowly, his cum dripping down your thighs, making him grin proudly.

“S-steve,” you weakly murmur, collapsing in his arms. He holds you down, slight kisses left on your back, delicate in a way you have never seen him before. Yet, the two of you don’t mention it, “let me take you home,” he mutters, a gentle hold on you that makes you feel warm.

“N-no.”

“No?” Intrigued, his breath gets caught in his throat, the look you give him is so sultry that the blood rushes to his cock in an instant again. Fucking fuck, what have you done to him.

“We still haven’t followed the rules,” you purr sweetly, causing him to raise his brows in excitement, tempting him further and further.

“The rule was wear the hat, ride the cowboy, wasn’t it?” You question with a slight grin, eyes lulled, still fucked out.

Your fingertips gently grazed against his chest, hairy and slicked with sweat, his sudden dominance fading when you were so quick to switch from begging to cum underneath him to gaining that flirty, giddy personality again. Already leaving him a mess. “Y-yeah,” he murmured, watching you hungrily, his cock already weeping again.

“Then, sit down and lemme take care of you, cowboy,” you ordered again, shuddering breaths leaving him in an instant.

Now you were going to ruin him.

Fully.

Completely.

And Steve couldn’t be more infatuated. You were truly his demise.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fics #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagines #cowboy!steve harrington

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leahrintarou · 5 months ago

Text

✩₊˚.⋆ YOU'RE FORGIVEN ! - hawks/keigo takami / 10.10 / kinktober

CW: he's sexually frustrated ofc, oral sex (he receives), tiny argument for plot, snowballing kiss, she/her used, not anatomy specified when it comes to reader, petname used ("pretty"), thats all :)

Word Count: 2.2k

Author's Note: hi guys! i forgot what number kinktober post this is...lol. i think it's the 6th but anyways, i hope you enjoy reading! ily guys and appreciate the love <3. leave a like or reblog to show support.

hawks had been in a sour mood lately. he wasn’t the type to lash out or act cold, especially not toward y/n. usually, he was all smirks and feathered winks, always pulling her close, teasing her with that warm, cocky charm. but for the past few days, he’d been distant, barely speaking, his touch cold and detached. it felt like she was sharing space with a stranger instead of the man she loved.

being the number 2 hero weighed on him, and she knew that much. the constant pressure, the relentless expectations—it had him on edge. but still, that didn’t make it any easier for her to watch him shut her out, day after day, without so much as an explanation.

one evening, y/n had finally had enough. she found him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, eyes focused on some distant point. she stormed over, her voice tense as she spat, “what the hell is your problem, keigo?”

his eyes narrowed, but he didn’t answer. that only made her blood boil more. “seriously, this is getting old. if you’ve got something to say, then say it. stop acting like a complete jerk.”

he finally met her gaze, his eyes hard and unrecognizable. “maybe you should just leave it alone. i’m dealing with a lot of crap that you wouldn’t understand.”

she let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “oh, so that’s it? you just get to walk around, treating me like crap, and i’m supposed to act like it’s fine? newsflash, kei, i’m not putting up with this. you’re not the only one who’s got things to deal with.”

they stood there, glaring at each other in silence, until he muttered something under his breath and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. the sound echoed through the empty space, leaving her standing there, fists clenched, anger and hurt simmering under her skin.

---

later that night, y/n heard the door creak open. she was still awake, curled up on the couch with her arms wrapped around her knees, staring into the dark. she didn’t look up as he walked in, but she could feel his presence fill the room, heavy with the weight of his regret.

hawks stepped closer, his movements slow and tentative, like he was afraid to get too close. when she finally glanced up, she saw his eyes, red-rimmed and glassy, like he’d been holding back tears. he hesitated, hovering a moment before sitting down beside her. he looked down, his hands fidgeting in his lap, as if he wasn’t sure he deserved to touch her. after a long silence, he let out a shaky breath, his voice barely more than a whisper. “i’m sorry,” he began, each word thick with emotion. “i shouldn’t have treated you that way. it’s just… it’s been rough. all this pressure, all these expectations, they’re eating away at me. but that doesn’t make it right. i took it out on you, and i hate that i did.”

he glanced over at her, his eyes searching hers, hoping for a sign that she could forgive him. slowly, he reached out, his hand closing gently around hers. “i don’t want you to think that’s who i am or who i want to be with you.” he moved closer, his gaze softening, filled with remorse. his other hand came up to brush a tear from her cheek, his touch so tender it nearly broke her heart. then, he leaned in, pressing his lips softly against hers.

the kiss was hesitant at first, a silent apology, his lips moving slowly, as though he feared she might pull away. but as he felt her respond, he deepened the kiss, his hands trembling as he held her close. he broke away just long enough to whisper, “i’m sorry,” the words spilling from him over and over again, a quiet mantra of regret and longing. “i’m so, so sorry…”

she felt the tension between them melt away, and her arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer. his lips found hers again, and the kiss grew more intense, a desperate attempt to bridge the distance that had come between them. his hands cradled her face, his thumbs tracing gentle circles along her skin, as if he was trying to memorize every detail, every curve.

he held her like he never wanted to let go, his touch tender but fierce, his kisses a blend of need and apology. with each soft, murmured “i’m sorry,” he poured out all the words he couldn’t seem to say, hoping she could feel how deeply he regretted the hurt he’d caused. and as they stayed there, wrapped up in each other, it felt like the pain was finally fading, leaving only the warmth of his embrace and the quiet promise that he would try to do better.

hawks pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his breathing ragged, his gaze clouded with an intensity that was impossible to ignore. he cupped her face, his hands trembling slightly as he held her close, his voice a rough whisper laced with desperation.

“i need you, y/n,” he muttered, frustration thick in his tone. “god, you have no idea how much i missed you… your touch, your warmth. it’s been driving me crazy.” his hands slid down to grip her waist, pulling her flush against him, as if he couldn’t stand the thought of any space between them. “these past few days… i thought i could just push through it alone, but i can’t. i need you.”

his lips crashed against hers, the kiss rough and hungry, filled with the pent-up longing he’d tried so hard to ignore. his hands moved over her body, desperate to feel every inch of her, like he was trying to make up for all the time he’d lost. he kissed her with an urgency, almost frantic, his fingers pressing into her skin as if grounding himself, anchoring himself back to her.

“i’m sorry for shutting you out,” he whispered hoarsely between kisses, his voice thick with emotion. “i missed you so damn much, y/n. i don’t ever want to feel like that again, like i’m just drifting without you. you’re all i need.” his lips traveled down her neck, his touch rougher, more desperate, as if he was trying to make sure she understood just how badly he needed her.

“you have no idea what it’s like,” he said, voice strained, his words spilling out in a low, frustrated growl. “i can’t take it. i need you like this, close to me. i need you, now.” he pulled her back into another kiss, fierce and passionate, his hands exploring every curve of her body as if he was trying to imprint her into his memory. his touch was needy, almost frantic, like he was trying to make up for every second he’d spent apart from her, and he held her like he never wanted to let go again.

y/n pulled away, muttering something underneath her breath before pulling a string from his sweatpants, loosening the waistband. she pulled it down in one motion, his breifs coming down with it as well. his length was hardening with every second that passed, making him glance over to look at her. her hands gently gripped his erection and hawks let out a soft moan.

the arousal that was already leaking down his length gave her enough slip to begin slow stroking motions. "f-fuck. please don't tease, pretty. I've been waiting so long already." he muttered, his head leaning back against the couch. "i should for payback."

"i said that i was sorry."

y/n's grip around him tightened and her stroking movements sped up immediately. "don't do it again, kei." she frowned, a small pout on her lips. "i wont, pretty. i promise." his voice sounded strained. he was trying to speak properly, but y/n's hand alone was driving him insane.

it'd been well over a few weeks since he got anything close to this kind of affection with y/n, so now that he's gotten this despite it not being much, it was still enough for the time being. "can you use your mouth?" he asked, pleading eyes with dilated pupils staring directly at y/n. she held his gaze, in thought as she contemplated what to do.

"please? i wanna feel you."

"i'm still mad at you." she huffed before shifting in her seat. "i know, beautiful. I'll make it up to you i swear." hawks' voice sounded like pure vulnerability and so did his body language. he was tense in y/n's her hold, but he allowed the entirety of himself to remain on display for y/n’s eyes.

"promise?" she questioned. hawks knew that she was only trying to drag it out, but instead of calling it out, he remained 'oblivious'. "mhm." he nodded, another moan escaping from his throat.

y/n moved back just a bit before leaning down. her tongue ran a strip over the tip of his length. a shaky moan was heard from him and he bit down on his bottom lip when her lips wrapped around him completely, her hand still around the base. his breathing went in and out with sharp breaths through his nose and his hands wrapped around y/n's as he aided her to fit a pace more comfortable them both.

the sounds that filled the room was nothing short of lewd. y/n's occasional moans around his length, hawks trying to hold back, but the pleasure being overwhelming, and the quiet sounds of her gags when she'd take too much of his length in.

the saliva and arousal leaking down their hands and his painful erection. when hawks decided to take a glance at the sight after having his eyes shut tightly, he couldn't fight the shiver that ran through his body. "this is so pathetic." he groaned, feeling that familiar sensation approach.

y/n looked at him, a questioning look in her eyes. "close." was all he said with a look of embarrassment on his features. y/n was taken aback by this. her boyfriend was never the type to not be able to hold out for long periods of the time, so she could understand why he'd feel embarrassed about it now. "it's been so long that even if you stared at me long enough, i could probably get off too."

y/n attempted to hold back a laugh, but the vibration made hawks tighten his hand around y/n's, forcing her grip to be firm. "can you take more of me? just for a minute? you've done it before. " he pleaded. y/n pulled her mouth off of him, heavy pants falling from her breath. "you don't even deserve this much." she rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the small smirk on his lips.

"i'll do whatever you ask of me later, pretty."

"anything?"

"anything. i have all night."

with another wary look, she let out a huff. "okay, fine. jeez, i need to learn how to tell you no. you're so spoiled."

hawks leaned down, tilting her chin up and placing a kiss to her lips, a string of his arousal connecting them when he pulled back. "who's fault is that?" with a groan of annoyance, she leaned back down, taking him in whole. y/n shut her eyes, trying not to focus on the fact that the tip of his length met with the very back of her throat. hawks drew in a sharp breath, his breathing quickening in just seconds

"please dont stop." he moaned, hand gently cupping y/n's nape as she lifted her head before taking him in once again. the warmth of her mouth was all too familiar yet he couldn't get used to it even if he tried. y/n tightly shut her eyes when she gagged around his length and hawks felt a bit of pity for her but his selfishness didn't want her to stop. afterall, he was so close.

his climax approached when the tip of y/n's nose met his abdomen. she held that position for a few long seconds and in no time, his high rushed throughout his being. ribbons of white coated the inside of her mouth as she collected every drop of his arousal.

y/n stood up, holding the warm liquid behind her lips, watching as hawks's gaze fluttered open. "what is it?" he asked. y/n rolled her eyes since she couldn't talk. hawks squinted his eyes at her when she shifted to straddle his thighs. she pointed at his lips and then her own. "you want a kiss?" he lifted a brow.

she nodded and he was about to retaliate until y/n glared at him. he knew her all to well which is why he could almost curse himself when he remembered his words from earlier. he let out a long sigh. "anything." he muttered, rolling his eyes as he quoted himself.

"you better forgive me after this."

she rolled her eyes, a smile on her lips when she placed them against his. her lips parted and her tongue traced his. his arousal fell onto his own tongue and he wrapped her lips with his, the taste of his arousal coating his tongue. y/n let out a small laugh into his mouth before pulling back. "you're forgiven." she smiled, watching as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

"that was by far the most disgusting thing I've done." he muttered, reaching up to y/n to wipe away at the corner of her lips with his thumb. "guess that makes you a weirdo for enjoying it." she smiled, glancing down at his erection that was growing once again.

"fuck off."

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koiiiji · 7 months ago

Note

im here for yakuza!Gun x reader smut 🤧🤧 like, you stayed at his family's mansion overnight because he introduced you to his clan for the first time and when the night came, this perv didn't care there was no soundproof system between rooms in the mansion (ofc, that's the traditional Japanese house style!!), he kept doing the deed, and even warned you to lower your voice if you didn't want anyone to hear 😏😏

ty as always bae <33

p/s: that's the idea and you can customize it however you want, just make sure that he is a meanie but soft at the same time (is it possible hm 🤔)

p/s (2): i have to send this idea right away in case you close your ask box too early lol 😂😂

author's note ; i mean Gun IS in fact yakuza, no? anyway sooo here we go! i had kinda same scenario but more rough and generally dark, like yandere, but fuck it, i think i won’t finish it anytime soon, bc i thought to add it to your request, but i don’t want to make you wait anymore. i think i was carried away a little in beginning, so its longer then expected, sorry!! 💞😮‍💨

author's note 2 ; art from pinterest, it says credits to : jongjong822 on x

tw ; f! reader, nsfw, minors, ageless/empty blogs DNI OR I WILL BLOCK YOU!!!

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

to be honest, you had no plans to meet Yamazaki Gun's family tonight. it's not that you were against the idea — quite the opposite! you'd heard plenty about who his father was and what his family did. there were a lot of rumors swirling around town, and while you were a little wary, you were mostly curious. besides, you hadn’t been together for that long, so you didn’t expect Gun to introduce you to his family anytime soon.

when he told you earlier in the day to dress up for the evening, you weren’t surprised. it was just another night, another overly expensive restaurant, and another excuse to be in his company. as you sat in the passenger seat of Gun's sleek black car, you glanced out the window at the city passing by. the soft glow of the streetlights bathed the streets in a warm, golden hue, making everything feel a little more magical, a little more alive.

the atmosphere inside the car was just as enchanting. Gun had always been a man of few words, but tonight he seemed more at ease, more open. the quiet hum of the engine was accompanied by the faint sound of classical music playing through the car's speakers, creating a peaceful ambiance. you felt a sense of calm wash over you as you glanced at Gun, who was focused on the road ahead. his profile was illuminated by the soft light from the dashboard, casting shadows that only added to his already mysterious aura.

the restaurant was just as extravagant as you'd expected, with its towering marble pillars, crystal chandeliers, and tables draped in fine linen. evening went perfectly. you and Gun shared a bottle of wine, and as the evening wore on, you found yourself getting a little tipsy. it wasn’t enough to lose control, just enough to feel a pleasant buzz that made everything seem a little funnier, a little more relaxed. your laughter came more easily, and you found yourself leaning in closer to Gun, your hand occasionally brushing against his. he seemed to enjoy the relaxed version of you, a soft smile playing on his lips as he listened to your stories and responded with his own dry wit.

when the dinner finally came to an end, you felt a sense of contentment settle over you. the food had been exquisite, the wine even more so, and the company... well, there was no one else you'd rather be with. so you assumed that Gun would take you back to your home now, to end the night on a sweet note with a kiss or maybe something more at your doorstep. so, when he steered the car away from the familiar streets and onto an unknown road, you raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question him. the wine had left you feeling pleasantly hazy, and you were more focused on continuing your easygoing conversation than worrying about where you were headed.

“so, tell me,” you began, your words slightly slurred but still coherent, “why do you always pick these fancy places? are you still trying to impress me, Gun?”

Gun glanced at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “maybe i just like seeing you all dressed up,” he teased, his voice as smooth as the leather seats you were sitting on.

you laughed, leaning back in your seat and looking out at the unfamiliar road ahead. “well, it’s working. but you know, you don’t have to go all out every time. i'm just as happy with oversized t-shirt, most stupidest comedy and you.”

“noted,” he said with a small nod, though there was a hint of something more serious in his tone. “but tonight is special.”

you blinked, trying to process his words through the pleasant fog in your mind. “special? how so?”

“you'll see,” was all he said, and you let it go, too relaxed and warm from the wine to press him further. conversation flowed easily between the two of you as Gun drove. night seemed endless, the road stretching out in front of you like a promise of more to come. when the car finally slowed and turned into a long, tree-lined driveway, you began to wonder just where he had brought you. the driveway was impeccably maintained, with tall, ancient trees on either side casting long shadows under the soft glow of strategically placed lights.

Gun parked the car in front of an imposing mansion, the kind you’d only seen in movies. building was grand, with tall windows that gleamed in the moonlight and a wide set of steps leading up to the front door richly decorated with mahogany. you stared up at it, your slightly inebriated mind struggling to catch up with the reality of the situation.

“Gun… where are we?” you asked, your voice tinged with awe and a hint of nervousness. he turned off the engine and looked at you, his expression unreadable. “this is my family's home,” he said simply, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

your heart skipped a beat. “wait… you mean… we’re meeting your family? tonight?”

he nodded, his gaze softening as he reached out to gently take your hand. “yes, tonight. i wanted you to meet them.”

panic began to bubble up in your chest, but it was quickly tempered by the warmth of his hand in yours. the wine had left you feeling too relaxed to fully grasp the gravity of the situation. Instead, you let out a soft, nervous laugh. “well, you could have given me a bit more of a warning,” you teased, squeezing his hand as you tried to keep the mood light.

“i didn’t want you to worry,” he replied, his voice steady and reassuring. “you’ll be fine. they’ll love you.”

before you could respond, Gun stepped out of the car and walked around to your side, opening the door for you. he offered you his hand, and you took it, letting him help you out of the car. as you stood there, staring up at the mansion, the reality of what was about to happen finally sank in.

you were about to meet Yamazaki Gun’s family. tonight.

you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and looked up at Gun. he was watching you with that same calm, unreadable expression, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes — something that made you feel like everything was going to be okay.

with one last squeeze of his hand, you smiled and nodded. “alright then, let's do this.”

and to be honest, everything went better than you had expected. the Yamazaki mansion was truly grand, almost overwhelming in its size and elegance. the towering shoji screens, the polished wooden floors, and the delicate tatami mats all spoke of a family with deep roots and considerable influence. people you encountered within its walls — servants, distant relatives, or perhaps close family friends — were polite, yet cold. they carried themselves with an air of reserved dignity, their words carefully chosen, their expressions unreadable.

Gun guided you through the mansion with a familiarity that showed he had once called this place home. as you walked, you couldn't help but notice how much Gun resembled his father. the elder Yamazaki was a stoic man, tall and imposing, dressed in a traditional black kimono with a hakama. he carried an aura of authority, and though his demeanor was stern, there was something in his gaze — something that hinted at a really small softness beneath his cold exterior.

Gun's mother, on the other hand, was an elegant woman, the very picture of grace and strictness, wearing a beautiful, intricately patterned kimono. her hair was pulled back in a traditional style, and her movements were precise and measured. her eyes were sharp, watching you with an intensity that made you feel as if you were being evaluated at every turn. yet, despite the coldness in her gaze, she followed every formality with exacting precision, treating you with the respect and courtesy befitting a guest in their home. she spoke little, but when she did, her words were measured and polite, though they lacked any warmth.

as the evening drew to a close, and the final course after small greeting tea ceremony was cleared away, you felt a sense of relief. it hadn’t been as daunting as you’d feared, and you were proud of how well you’d handled yourself. you expected that Gun would now take you back home, and the two of you would quietly slip away from all formalities and coldness of this house. but then Gun’s father, in his deep, commanding voice, made a suggestion that took you by surprise. “why don’t the two of you stay the night? it’s late, and it wouldn’t be wise to drive in your current state.”

you glanced at Gun, waiting for him to politely decline, but to your shock, he simply nodded. “we’ll stay.”

you blinked in surprise, a slight panic rising in your chest. you were unprepared for an overnight stay, and the idea of spending the night in Gun’s childhood home — under the same roof as his parents — was suddenly very intimidating. you opened your mouth to protest, but Gun leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “don’t worry. my father asked us to stay because he wants to discuss some business matters with me in the morning. just relax.”

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

with those words echoing in your head, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the futon, carefully prepared by the staff just a few minutes ago. the evening had been long and emotionally exhausting, but now, in the quiet of Gun’s childhood room, you felt a sense of calm begin to wash over you. after taking a shower, you had washed off the remnants of your makeup, feeling refreshed as the warm water rinsed away the day’s tension. the pleasant residue from the alcohol was still making itself felt, leaving you relaxed as you climbed into bed, where your boyfriend was already waiting for you.

Gun was lying on his back, his dark hair still damp from his own shower, his yukata loosely tied around his waist. as you slid under the covers, you immediately fell into his arms, finding comfort in the warmth of his embrace. you settled comfortably against his chest, inhaling the clean, subtle scent of his shower gel, mingled with the familiar warmth of his skin. it was a scent that was unmistakably his, grounding you in the moment as you let out a contented sigh.

for a few moments, neither of you spoke, simply enjoying the quiet intimacy of being alone together. the soft rustle of the futon as you shifted closer, the gentle rise and fall of Gun’s chest under your cheek — it all felt so peaceful, so right.

but as the silence stretched on, a small thread of anxiety began to tug at the back of your mind, and you couldn’t help but voice the question that had been lingering in your thoughts all evening. “do you think your parents liked me?”

Gun’s chest rumbled with a soft chuckle, and you felt his hand gently stroke your hair. “why do you ask? you were amazing tonight.”

“i just… i don’t know,” you murmured, feeling a little self-conscious. “your father was so serious, and your mother barely smiled. i couldn't tell what they were thinking.”

he let out another soft laugh, tilting your chin up so you could meet his eyes. “that’s just how they are. don’t take it personally. my father rarely smiles, and my mother… well, she’s always been a bit strict. but trust me, you made a good impression.”

you felt a wave of relief at his words, but you couldn’t resist teasing him a little: rolling onto your stomach, you now lay on top of him, folding your arms across his chest and resting your chin on them, you playfully asked "are you sure they're not just being polite to me?"

flicking your nose with his finger, he just laughed in response, the sound deep and genuine, and you couldn’t help but join in, the last remnants of your nerves melting away in the warmth of his laughter. but as your soft giggles subsided, the mood shifted, the lightheartedness giving way to something more intense. Gun’s eyes darkened - more, if it was even possible - as he looked at you, his playful expression fading into one of pure desire. without warning, he moved, his hands gripping your waist as he flipped you onto your back. you let out a surprised gasp, your heart skipping a beat as he loomed over you, his body pressing you into the futon. the sudden shift in his demeanor left you breathless, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you as his face hovered inches from yours.

“Gun…” you whispered, your voice barely audible as he lowered his head, his lips brushing against your neck.

“mmm?” he hummed in response, his breath hot against your skin as he began to trail kisses along the curve of your throat. his hands moved with a deliberate slowness, slipping beneath the folds of your yukata to find the smooth skin of your back. you shivered at his touch, your body responding to the gentle caress of his fingers as they traced a path up and down your spine. his kisses grew more urgent, more passionate, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips moving hungrily against your skin as his hands roamed freely over your body. the fabric of your yukata shifted as he explored, his touch sending sparks of pleasure racing through your veins.

“Gun,” you gasped again, your fingers tangling in his raven hair as you arched into him, craving more of the sensation he was drawing from you. his hands were everywhere, gliding over the curve of your back, sliding down to cup your ass cheeks before moving up again, each touch sending shivers of pleasure rippling through you.

he pulled back slightly, his breath coming in shallow pants as he gazed down at you — your hair, disheveled and slightly damp from the shower, was scattered across the pillows, your breathing was a little ragged and the fabric of your yukata, pulled to the side, opened up a beautiful view of your chest, which was slightly heaving from confusion, your cheeks were burning with excitement and still a small amount of embarrassment, while due to the alcohol you barely remembered where you both were.

with a quiet growl, Gun again clung to your collarbones, his hands moved faster, skillfully, undoing the ties of your robe with practiced ease to pull the unnecessary fabric lower. without moving away from you even for a centimeter, he caressed your neck with his lips, moved up a little higher, biting the lobe of your ear and descending in a wet path lower, again to the collarbones, this time not lingering there, but going lower to your chest, clasping it with one hand and kneading it in his large, calloused palm. with each of his movements, you moved towards him more and more, forgetting yourself and melting in his arms, moaning from his each touch.

as he skillfully make the fabric fell away, leaving you exposed beneath him, he groaned softly, his eyes drinking in the sight of you.

“you are so beautiful” he murmured, his voice filled with reverence as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as you melted into the kiss, losing yourself in the sensation of his mouth on yours, his hands on your body. right now there was only Gun, his touch, his warmth, the overwhelming passion that consumed you both.

“please” you whispered into his lips as he rose above you on his elbows again. one of his hands had already slid below your tummy, stroking your pussy with his entire palm, only fleetingly touching the sensitive bundle of nerves, pulling the first loud moan out of you.

“come on kitten, be quiet, you remember where we are” Gun's hot whisper enveloped your ear as his fingers continued to play with your wet pussy. “you know, this is a traditional old style house, the walls here are extremely thin” your boyfriend continued to whisper in your ear, enjoying your once again confused look as your cheeks flushed with renewed vigor. “you don't want anyone to hear us, do you, baby?” now one of his fingers slid up and down between your lips, smearing the moisture oozing out of you all over the entrance. he was lying on his side next to you, one of his hands reached under your neck as he place one finger in your mouth, making you suck and lick it with your tongue, while his other hand never left your pussy, now more insistently stroking and massaging your clit with one finger, while the other played with your tight entrance, pushing finger in just halfway.

time seemed to stand still as you surrendered to him, your body responding to his every caress and touch, every kiss, every whisper. the intensity of the moment, the way he made you feel cherished, desired, loved—it was all-encompassing, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

and that's when you reached your first peak from his fingers caressing you deep inside, when your hot and wet walls tightened around him, and you could no longer stifle your moans with his fingers behind your cheek, only then Gun smiled insidiously, and with one light movement turned your softened body back onto your stomach. without wasting a second, his hands dug into the soft skin of your sides, right where he could feel the pelvic bones, and with your clouded brain you already assumed that there would be traces there in the morning. reaching for a pillow, and pushing it between your thighs and the futon, Gun hurriedly, casually stroked your pussy, passing from bottom to top, collecting all the juices of your previous orgasm, simultaneously stroking his cock, smearing mix of your saliva and his own spit along the entire length.

whimpering softly and burying your head in the pillow, in an attempt to stifle your moans, you gasped, clutching at the edges of the futon and the blanket under you, as the fat tip of his dick slowly squeezed into your tensed, gummy folds, painfully stretching you. a deep and heavy moan was heard from behind when Gun collapsed on top of you with all his weight, completely plunging his fat dick into your bosom, in one sharp movement, immediately hitting the g-spot, forcing you to arch your back, pressing your ass harder into his hips. with a satisfied purr, Gun covered your hands with his own, fastening them together into a lock, again leaning closer to you with his all body, pressing you into the thin mattress, he began to slowly move inside your warmth.

with each strong thrust, as he picked up speed, with each of his heavy breaths into your neck, it became harder for you to hold your ass higher, as well as your moans, almost drowned out by the pillow. over and over, as Gun's thick cock filled your gummy, warm walls completely, your eyelids grew heavy and your head fell back, right on his shoulder, as your jaw dropped, allowing sweet moans and whimpers to escape from your throat.

“kitten still wants the whole house to hear her, mm?” your boyfriend purrs breathlessly in your ear, mercilessly hammering into your poor pussy, forcing you to give up, and fall on the bed with your whole body, and only moan piteously when one of his arms wraps around your neck and closes your mouth, and the other one gets tangled in your hair, pulling it back just a little.

you never doubted that in the matter of bed, Gun always was a bit more wild and animalistic, but the way his hips slammed into you now, how heavy balls were beating against your clit, and the dirty sounds of squelching and slapping skin against skin, how his biceps tensed right where your cheek lay, all this made your eyes roll up to the back of your head and just whine pathetically under him and drool on his muscles.

you didn't even have the strength left, to hold still, all that helped him mercilessly hammer you into the mattress was the pillow under your hips while you lay under him and helplessly muttering incoherent words and praises. both intoxicated by the euphoria of sex, emotions and feelings, the two of you have lost your sense of time and space, just chasing your own peak and pleasure. to be honest, you didn't think much when your pussy covered Gun's twitching dick with cream, when he hitted his pink head right to the cervix, forcing you to scream and arch towards him, pressing your ass into his hips, and feel with your shoulder blades as his chest pressing you into bed.

and to be completely honest, you almost didn't remember how you both cum, the most important thing that was in front of your eyes was Gun's chest and his warm hand gently caressing your back, while he murmured something into your hair, when he covered you both with a blanket and you fell into a sweet sleep.

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

BONUS ;

the morning sunlight filtered softly through the shoji screens, casting a gentle glow over the room. you blinked awake, feeling the warmth of the futon and the lingering scent of Gun beside you. but as you turned over, reaching out to pull him closer, you found his side of the bed empty and cold. confusion washed over you as you sat up, realizing he was gone.

events of the night before came rushing back, and a deep blush crept over your cheeks. you buried your face in your hands, mortified at the thought of facing anyone after what had happened. Gun's parents, the staff — how could you possibly look them in the eye now? the thought of leaving the room made your heart race with anxiety, so you resolved to stay put, hoping to avoid any awkward encounters. minutes ticked by, each one stretching out into what felt like an eternity. you had no idea where Gun had gone or when he'd be back, leaving you in an uncomfortable solitude.

and just as you were about to retreat further under the covers, there was a soft knock at the door. your heart skipped a beat, dread pooling in your stomach. before you could respond, the door slid open, and Gun’s mother stepped inside.

she was impeccably dressed, her expression calm and composed. you immediately lowered your gaze, unable to meet her eyes, but she approached with a certain grace, her footsteps barely making a sound on the tatami mats.

“good morning,” she greeted you, her voice steady.

“m-mrs. Yamazaki,” you stammered, still unable to look up. “i-i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to-”

“stop,” she interrupted, her tone firm but not unkind. “you have nothing to be sorry of. it’s natural.”

you finally dared to glance up at her, confusion flickering in your eyes. she took a seat beside you on the futon, her movements deliberate and serene. “you’re a woman, and you’re desired and loved. there’s nothing shameful about that. that’s just the nature of men — wild and unbridled when a woman is around. i was in your place once, and someday, you’ll be in mine.”

you blinked, taken aback by her words. was that… a blessing?

“wait,” you began hesitantly, “so… you heard everything?”

mrs. Yamazaki let out a soft sigh, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. “i’m not an idiot. from beginning i saw the way my son looks at you. and i know Yuzuru well enough, and what’s going on in his head, to prepare your bedroom far away from our own.”

your cheeks burned hotter, the mortification almost unbearable. “so… you didn’t hear?”

she paused, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “let’s say the whole mansion didn’t hear you… but maybe some part of it did.”

you swore you caught a fleeting, light, and kind laugh in her voice, and for a moment, the tension between you eased. there was a warmth in her tone that you hadn’t expected, something almost motherly and understanding.

“i...” you trailed off, still unsure of what to say.

mrs. Yamazaki reached out, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “you are welcome here, as long as you make my son happy. and believe me, i haven't seen him this happy in a very long time.”

her words soothed some of the anxiety gnawing at you, and you managed a small, grateful smile. “thank you.”

she nodded, standing up gracefully. “now, come along. breakfast is ready.” as she turned to leave, you felt a sense of relief, the earlier embarrassment slowly fading.

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

author's note 3 ; I FOUGHT INNER DEMONS TO FINISH IT I SWEAR!! SORRY THAT SPICY PART WASN’T THAT JUICY AND STUFF, I STILL NEED TO LEARN HOW TO WRITE PORN…HOPE U GUYS LIKE IT😤😤🫶🏻

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blue-jisungs · 1 year ago

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you still sleep with plushies ♡

author’s note. as a person who’s still sleeping w plushies !! it’s totally normal !! and i just thought its a cute idea to write a reaction like that so here u go ^_^ maybe i’ll do other unit versions,, we’ll see!!

warnings. jihoon’s is a liiiiiil suggestive if you think about it …

hhu ver & perf ver

┆彡 JEONGHAN [ 정한 ]

this mf…

like ofc he noticed the plushies on your bed while he visited you

but he thought it’s just a decoration!!

and once you invited him to sleep over

which was supposed to be super cute and relaxing, just the two of you

so all snuggled and watching a movie in your bed, he noticed you were clutching to a plushie of a dog

he frowned and noticed the plushies are all over the bed

"angel, do you sleep with all of those? isn’t jr too cramped?" he teased, grabbing a random one and poking its eye

when he was met with silence, he noticed the pout on your lips :(

and he immediately feels guilty, especially when you clutched the dog even closer

"i was just asking because you know… i don’t want to kick them from the bed in my sleep" jeonghan tried to save himself and it kind of worked

"if that’s a problem i can…" you started and he couldn’t bear it anymore <\\3

“no, no. i’m sorry, i just… im not used to this” he cupped your face, pecking your pout "it’s not a problem. it’s… quite cute"

it takes him a while to get used to all the plushies staring at him lol (and sometimes getting tangled in the sheets between you, him and your limbs)

but he finds it really adorable :”)

┆彡 JOSHUA [ 조슈아 ]

joshua entered your bedroom when you asked him to bring a hoodie from there

and he stood there, like a deer caught in the headlights

(haha,, deer… get it?? because he’s… yeah, i’ll shut up)

you were concerned why he’s taking so long and when you saw him peek at the plushies curiously, you gasped

"um, yeah… i still sleep with those…" you mumbled and were met with his ^▽^ smile

"this is so adorable, why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he asked and noticed a deer plushie

when you murmur that you were just shy, he hugs you and places kisses on your face while giggling

you’re seriously the most precious human that he’s ever met :(

and honestly he only fuels your cute habit by buying you more and more plushies

and he just loves when you send him pics of them chilling with you in your bed

or when he cuddles with you and all the cute plush animals surround him hehe

it’s like a new life mission for him,, to buy you all the plushies in the world :”)

especially the deer ones hehe so they can remind you of him <3

┆彡 JIHOON [ 지훈 ]

you usually hid your plushies when your boyfriend came over,, for the time being you wanted him to think you’re normal lmao

but one day after a date you went to your place

and when you entered your place, jihoon’s lips were immediately on yours.. not even giving you a second to breathe…. messily making out……. the plushies were the last thing you wanted to think about

so when he led you to the bedroom, placing small love bites on your neck;;; you froze

jihoon panicked that he did something wrong but then he saw your face getting red while looking at something

plushies

and then you saw him smile brightly, erupting into giggles

"just when i thought you couldn’t get any more cuter” he snickered "why i never saw them before?"

so you explained everything and he was just <\\3

he doesn’t really mind it, only when you prefer to cuddle them instead of him >:T

or will randomly punch them.

and steal.

he’ll steal some plushies to put in his studio,, so they can remind him of you :((

and that he can cuddle something that smells like you when he’s taking a nap there :((

(obviously he’d rather die than admit it)

┆彡 SEOKMIN [ 석민 ]

actually it’s the first thing he notices when he enters your room for the first time ㅠㅠ

you see his shocked expression and feel the rush of embarrassment hit your face

"i, uh… those are–" you started but he walked up to your bed and picked up a fluffy, white cat plushie

"so adorable! and there’s so many of them, woah y/nnie!" he cooed and looked at you, eyes wide "can i touch…?"

and his hearts melt when he sees your face lit up, a visible relief washing over your expression while you nod vigorously

"wait, i can even tell you their names" you grin and he’s so soft like,, moments from melting and turning into a puddle on the floor :((

so for the next hour you introduce every plushie and their names and backstory!!

and he treats them so gently, almost as if they were made out of the finest china <\3

will absolutely love to sleep w you in his arms, alongside the plushies that he knows how much they mean to you

and you allowing him to cuddle w them too is also something that makes seokmin fall for you even more (if that was even possible)

┆彡 SEUNGKWAN [ 승관 ]

kwannie and you usually did sleepovers at his place but once he asked if you can do one at yours

he saw you tense up a bit and got concerned that maybe he pushed some boundaries

”sure but… um, i sleep with plushies…” you mumbled

seungkwan blinked once. twice.

“okay, so?” he frowned like it was (because it is) the most normal thing ever

and he could see how happy n relieved you got ^_^

he needs to get used to it lmao like,, so. many. stuffed. animals.

he listens as you explain where u got each of them and their names

"and i bought this one because it reminded me of you. i named it booboo" you grinned and showed him an orange plushie with a happy face on it

he swore he could just melt down in this moment, right here right now

but oh my god. gets SO offended when you cuddle booboo to sleep instead of him >:(

“eh, that just sucks” he throws a tantrum and turns his back to you, pouting

but then you put the orange plushie into his arms and wrap your hands around his waist, cuddling him like he was the plushie itself

and atp he doesn’t even care that it makes him the small spoon, he loves the proximity <3

masterlist <3

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @dazzlingligth

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hwallazia · 7 months ago

Text

SILVER DIVE – 정우영

synopsis . in which you and your boyfriend enter an abstinence zone against your own will since he decided to get his lip pierced. the wait is worth it though.

pairing . jung wooyoung & fem!reader

genre . smut (mdni!), wholesome fluff at the end ofc, established relationship, non idol!au

taglist . @bro-atz @purplenimsicle @vampzity @iykyunho @yyaurii | apply to join my taglist ♡

word count . 3,6k

DISCLAIMER! dom! wooyoung, sub! reader, needles included for our wooyo to get his piercing done (well duh, but still goes as a warning), sex in the couch (they didn’t make it to the bedroom y’all), lots of kisses (like fr, they’re desperate for each other), desperate touches, creampie, cum eating, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (we don’t sponsor that here), dirty talk, praise, pet names (love, babe, youngie, angel & more), auralism? (idk, wooyoung’s dick twitches when hearing reader’s moans), explicit aftercare (doesn’t include showering tho heh), it is still a wholesome post-sex moment. lmk if i missed anything pls!

NIC’S NOTES i know i posted two days ago but wooyoung posted that pic on ig and… yeah that’s it, i have no more excuses. you can blame jung wooyoung. aaalso, this is my last post until my winter break ends *cries* textbooks, lectures and 5-hour classes await for me !! (pls save me). it’s not proofread, i’m way too tired to do so, sorry for any mistakes you may read!

wooyoung had spoken to you about his notion of getting a piercing, more precisely a lip piercing. and all you had thought at the moment was how hot he’d look with a silver ring wrapped around his plump bottom lip. the idea was excellent and so were the results. you had accompanied him to the appointment, limiting yourself to only lending him your hand to squeeze if he needed to because you definitely didn’t want to see the needle introduced to his bottom lip. wooyoung was amused by your action. actually, you were the one who was almost crushing his hand when it was supposed to be the other way around.

after torturous moments, wooyoung patted your hip so you could turn around. and the view did not disappoint you at all. “what do you think?” he modeled playfully as he cupped his cheek with his hand and his gaze turned somewhat innocent.

“fuck, he’s so fine” were the words your not-too-naive neurons expressed. and that was the head start for your mind to start playing your favorite nasty fantasies over and over. but still, your astonished reaction was more than enough for wooyoung to understand that if you were too stunned to speak, it was because he definitely looked good.

“guess it’s fine,” he replied for you in an amused tone, yet looking at you tenderly.

“you’re fine.” you blabbered before your brain could process any coherent information. blush striking your cheekbones as a wave of bashfulness consumed you in less than ten seconds. and you’re so glad that wooyoung is madly in love with you because he laughed at your idiotic, yet endearing state.

the prominent pink ink that drowned your cheeks provided all the clarity he needed to understand that you were ashamed of your words. so he continued with his healthy teasing to enlighten your mood. “i know right?” he posed once again, this time exaggerating a pout, pulling a cute giggle out of you. the urge to kiss him right there was too strong to fight, your hands moving on their own to reach his waist and pull him closer. wooyoung’s expression faded from fun-loving to mischievous, a smirk instantly drawn on his fleshy lips.

the author of your boyfriend’s piercing passed you by as he looked for something. but his features went from unbothered to slight worry, stepping backward in an amusing way, interrupting your adorable moment. his head appeared in the blank space between the both of you. “yah, jung wooyoung. you do know that you can’t kiss her, right?”

you and wooyoung rotated your face comically, confused features hitting you. “what do you mean i can’t kiss my girlfriend?” wooyoung was the first one to complain. that sulky voice he always used to get whatever he wanted being present.

“man, you got a piercing done less than ten minutes ago.” the piercer stated the obvious. “you can’t touch the piercing while it heals. constant rubbing or friction can irritate the skin and delay recovery.” he explained. “and i bet you wouldn’t want your dear girlfriend to kiss an infected lip.”

wooyoung gasped lightly just from the thought of it, a concerned look on his face while you constrained yourself to make a disgusted reaction. “that’s what i thought. so be aware of that.” he warned one more time before making his way out of the room to the restroom, probably to wash his hands. you and your boyfriend dedicated to staring at each other sadly, but the specialist’s voice interrupted you once again. “oh i almost forgot” he turned his body to meet your distant figures slightly darkened since you were behind the clear glass wall which reflected seoul’s bright sunlight. “most piercings heal within six weeks, so..” he saw your disturbed features and knew better than to stay there longer. “good luck!” he wished the both of you before disappearing behind the door.

the week after that appointment was hell. if you thought wooyoung was whiny and a sulky baby 24/7, he proved you wrong. countless times you had been so close to kissing but instantly reminded of the piercer’s words, forcing you to take a step back. the ignited fire you both created every time now disappeared against your own will.

“okay but. only one kiss.” he had said once, pleading eyes meeting your just-showered figure. the fact that he was just a towel away from touching your perfect core was consuming him little by little. you stopped your movement after hearing his petition.

“babe, you know we can’t.” you got closer to his pouty face, caressing his cheekbone affectionately. lips only a few inches away from each other. “don’t make it harder than it already is, youngie.”

he pulled off your touch, throwing his back against the mattress as he whined childishly. “ughhh, this is unbearable! do i really have to wait five more weeks until i can kiss you again?” he complained again, his eyes dancing on the edge of a waterfall.

“don’t wanna break it to you but you were the one who decided to get a lip pierced.” your reminder struck a lighting of pain against his memory. an even louder mewl from wooyoung bounced off the walls. a sweet smile painting on your face, “we only have to endure for five more weeks. we’re stronger than that, jung wooyoung!”

your radiant cheer made his heart swell. “you’re right, love.” he got up, straightening his back and pulling you into a much-needed hug, his chin resting on your shoulder to avoid the silver ring rubbing against your skin.

after a few moments of adoration and mildness, you unlinked your arms to stare at each other, glittered hearts falling from your beaming irises. but wooyoung spoke. “can’t wait for this to heal and kiss the shit out of you.”

your face seemed amusing to him since he choked an adorable giggle that you would’ve loved to hear. “what a charmer.”

even though there was an obvious and major painful side of the whole situation, it helped you to develop more boyfriend and girlfriend activities that didn’t necessarily include kissing. but the sex drive you and wooyoung had needed to have a scientific discussion, if not saying it was high as the fucking empire state. so of course the conversation of “what should we do when it comes to sex” was dropped at the table. and you concluded that you could masturbate or use toys only if the other wasn’t near. and that resulted in either of you literally asking the other to leave the apartment for a bit just to get a short self-pleasure session. exaggerated, but it worked.

still, the void of the other being filled with silicone toys or your own hand was unendurable. so you once tried having sex, but it was.. empty, to say it in some kind of way. while you were riding his hardened cock, bouncing up and down, panting for air, utterly lost in the feeling, you placed your hand on the side of his neck for support and started leaving lingering kisses and licking it. but your shoulder accidentally brushed his bottom lip.

an unpleasant whimper left your boyfriend’s red lips, and you detected it in an instant. your movements stopped completely. “whatwhatwhat.” you blabbered as you looked down at him concerned, meeting his furrowed brows as he guided his finger up to his recently touched lip.

“nothing, angel. just a little rub on the piercing but that’s all, don’t worry.” normally, he’d kiss your concerns away, but given the clear impediment, he only dedicated himself to giving you a reassuring stare, caressing your arms fondly.

“it’s not bleeding, isn’t it?” in less than a second, you scooped his face between your palms, lifting it for the little moonlight that intruded the blinds to light up his ringed lip. but wooyoung brushed your hands off him.

“it’s not, babe. i’m okay.” he reassured once again. and even though he was still deep inside you, your unbridled horniness faded out by then.

and you waited, not too composedly, but waited for the three remaining weeks to pass by. and the day finally came, the final appointment for the piercer to check on wooyoung’s piercing and see if everything was in order. but unfortunately, you couldn’t accompany him this time due to your work schedule, demanding you to stay behind your desk at home for two more hours. “‘m sorry i can’t go, baby” you had apologized to wooyoung, but he was more than comprehensive and wrapped you in a tight hug.

“you have nothing to apologize for, angel.” he replied once he pulled back, heading to the front door, rummaging his key into his pockets. “i’ll text you later.”

you smiled and answered him before he exited the house. “i love youuu” you expressed with all your heart, and wooyoung’s soul vanished in a mist of endear. “i love you way more.” his sincere eyes reflecting his adoration to you.

a couple hours passed, you finished your very coffee-required paperwork and wooyoung was still nowhere to be seen, his two last messages being an “i love you” and two red hearts. since watching your favorite movie with a bowl of ice cream next to you seemed like a good idea to unwind, you did so, setting the mood and adjusting your figure so you could be in a comfortable position.

you don’t know when you lost consciousness and fell into the depths of sleep, swimming through the ticklish feathers of your pillow. a very familiar voice made your eyes flutter open sluggishly. after blinking once or twice, your boyfriend’s gorgeous face unblurred.

“there she is,” he whispered quietly, as if his voice was the sharpest knife and you were the finest leaf. a tender, unrushed caress lingered in the flesh of your cheek.

“hi.” you managed to mutter back, a sheepish smile appearing on your sleepy face before you adjusted your position to sit on your elbow and stare at him. “how did everything g-“

he interrupted you by the slam of his lips against yours, devouring you entirely. god, you had missed it so much, the addictive taste of his lips, now more exciting as the silver ring brushed on and on against the outer lines of your mouth. a relieved, soft moan engulfed in the heated kiss. you broke it once you ran out of breath and joined your forehead as you gasped for air. there they were, the breathtaking, toe-curling kisses of your boyfriend you had yearned for such a long time.

“guess everything went just fine” you replied to yourself, a shared laugh echoing through the room. “we did it.” you congratulated, referring to the eternal time you had suffered without the collision of your mouths together.

“hell yeah we did.” he answered, not doubting the slightest second to clash his lips against yours again. saying you were desperate was an understatement. your tongues, tired of neglection, danced with each other in a fight to determine the dominant one, and… there wasn’t a winner. too excited to surrender. the remaining sleep in your core vanishing away.

at some point, wooyoung jumped to the couch and imprisoned you between his strong arms. but you turned the tables by tossing your body against him, forcing him to sit down with you on top. wooyoung’s mischievous smirk appeared in the scene. “just woke up and wanting to fuck already?” his eager palms traveling up to your sides, seeking the removal of your oversized shirt. “mm, nasty.”

his teasing sent shivers down your spine, your back straightening naturally. “guess you have that kind of effect on me.” you confessed through breathy hums. after wooyoung spread feathery kisses all along your neck and ran his piercing up and down its sides, your hips stuttered and started rocking against his clothed dick. so you muttered. “bedroom.”

“why? when i could just take you right here.” his masterful hands vanished your cloth off your upper body, exposing your perfectly erected nipples and devourable chest and collarbone. a satisfied sigh leaving your lips as you threw your head back. “do you want that, sweetheart?” he asked in vane, already knowing what your answer would be. but still, you took the trouble to reply to him with a faint, breathy ‘yes’. “of course you want to. you’d let me fuck you even in your parents’ house. wouldn’t you, angel?” your whimpered affirmation sent him to heaven. “what a dirty girlfriend i’ve got.”

“fuck, youngie!” you moaned out loudly. the wet slam of the flesh of your ass and his hips was divine. wooyoung stared at your bouncing figure from beneath you as if you were some sort of goddess. and for him, you truly were. head thrown back, eyes shut from the overwhelming pleasure, mouth partially opened as it left a string of whimpers with wooyoung’s name in the middle. yes, he had proven his point.

you were so close to cumming, the coiled heat starting to snap as droplets of your clear liquid escaped the sides of his wet dick, your breath sharpening even more. “oh god, love. you’re squeezing me” his eyes closed for a bit, enjoying the comfortable warmth your walls provided.

“i’m gonna—fuck. woo i—“ you tried to announce your release, gripping his arms tightly as well as your walls did with his dick. his reassuring hand reached your stuttering hips and caressed them fondly.

“cum, love. show me how much you missed me.” he ordered sweetly, and that was all you needed for your orgasm to almost knock you out. it was so intense you could barely see straight. your body kept moving on its own as if that was its sole function. your exhausted core trembled above him as you rode your high, faintly touching the gates of overstimulation. three consecutive rounds had you on the floor and getting way more sensitive than necessary wasn’t a good idea. it’d be too much for your poor, ravished body to handle. a few more thrusts were needed for wooyoung to fill you with his white essence to the brim, your belly feeling swollen in consequence. you had forgotten how good it felt.

normally, wooyoung —if he was tired enough— would wash you with praises, soothing hands coming in help, and after staying still for a few moments for your uneven breathing to find balance, he’d grab the nearest blanket and pull it over you, too tired to go shower or changing the sheets —if you were in bed. instead, he spanked the flesh of your ass and earned a surprised gasp.

“sit on my face.” he demanded.

“what?”

“you heard me.” he started adjusting his figure, the completely messed-up blanket you had used for your little leisure session grazing his sides. you pulled off of him so he could comfortably position himself and once he laid his body on the cushions, he pointed his face twice with his index finger.

“a-are you sure? i wouldn’t want to hurt—“ you stammered. it’s not like you didn’t want to, you just were afraid of suffocating him underneath you. the mental image freaking you out, but he interrupted your thoughts.

“you won’t.” he encouraged you once again with a honey-dripping voice. your defeated gaze being more than enough for him to smile. “now c’mere, mama.”

the pet name made your toes curl unconsciously. with worry and self-doubt still striking your expression, you moved towards him, walking on your knees. once your calves stopped right next to his cheeks, you casted your eyes down at him, your body only succeeding in covering his mouth. “are you sure you—ngh!”

his hands reached your hips and pulled them down in less than a second, diving into your cum-covered insides. his tongue immediately moving in the most exquisite way as his silver ring grazed your folds as well. as much as you enjoyed the feeling of his skillful tongue inside you, you felt like you were far too sit, concerned about the possibly blocked airways of your boyfriend. your hips shook as they tried to elevate, but wooyoung dragged them down in an instant, his tongue reaching deeper spots. an unashamed moan from you was heard in reaction.

he pulled off your folds for a moment just to demand in the most gravel-like voice. “shut up and let me enjoy my meal.”

your walls clenched around his tongue just from hearing his voice. he continued to pleasure you with his mouth, keeping a steady pace with his licks and slurps, the nasty melody wooyoung was creating from beneath you and with your loud, whiny moans bounced off the walls. all doubts you had in the beginning were fading away with every lick wooyoung applied against your clit. with enough confidence, you started to rock your hips back and forth.

a muffled moan from him was perceived, turning into just suppressed hums. “please, youngie. please make me cum.” you mewled, desperately searching for release. overstimulation didn’t matter at this point, you just wanted to come undone on your lover’s tongue. anxious hands finding support on the armrest.

“don’t rush me.” your pulsating cunt overshadowed his command. he kept his ministrations on going, this time pulling away to tease your folds by brushing them at a fast pace with his index finger, the sudden shudder of your core pulled a shit-eating grin out of him, humming in satisfaction before speaking. “guess there’s no hurry. you’re so close.. look at those walls clenching around nothing.” he teased, choking a chuckle. it’d be too mean to laugh at you in a moment like this, and he’s not that evil. “come on, sweet girl. beg for it.” he uttered, slowing the pace of his finger which now was only grazing your lips faintly, already causing you to yearn for the absence of his tongue and pierced lip. you could only whine pitifully. his heavy hand flew to your ass to spank it harshly, your broken whimper echoed through the room. “i said beg for it. don’t make me repeat myself.”

and as if he had pressed a button, your woeful pleading began to unravel. “please, youngie i wanna cum so badly. pleeease, wanna make a mess on your tongue, babyy.” you mewled pathetically, a few pants breaking your supplications. “please, will you let me?”

and that broke a string inside wooyoung. he cursed under his breath before surrendering to your eager walls once again. “good girl.” and he dived in, submerging in a fog of lust and overflowing desire. your thighs shook when he sank your hips down once again, your parted mouth releasing pornographic sounds as your boyfriend nuzzled in your welcoming heat. the pace increased in a ridiculous amount of time. and your eager core seeking for his piercing to rub against your clit and cause you the most exquisite stimulation. another spank landed on your ass though.

“stay still and let me do my work.” he commanded, referring to the anxious movement of your hips. “i’ll give you just what you need, you greedy angel.” and with his words, you were a promise away to touch the most delightful heavens. your legs quivered, threatening to lose balance, but then, you feel his divine ring nuzzling your sensitive bud, just as you would’ve required if you weren’t too fucked out to speak. wooyoung’s name and needy, desperate prayers were recited in response.

“oh, fuck—ahh! youngie, right there—oh right the fuck there.” you melted under his touch, sinking further if that was even possible. wooyoung moaned beneath you, your moans never failing in making his cock twitch. and when his tongue swirled on your clit, you lost it. coming undone under his ministrations would always be the best experience, bright dots whitening your vision and you arched your back in the perfect crescent moon form. the scene being so breathtakingly beautiful that it seemed as though it had been lifted straight from a painting.

he rode you high as calmly as always, his lips covered in your divine liquids as he lapped your sensitive folds to clean you simultaneously, pulling away every once in a while to hum praises under his breath. a muffled “you did so good for me” twirled on your ear.

while you regained the ability to formulate rational thoughts, wooyoung helped you to straddle down his face, cradling you in his arms, still showering you with compliments, as he gave you enough time to recompose.

“baby?” he whispered, your arms, enveloped on his toned back, tightened their grip faintly, chin resting on his shoulder. a soft hum vibrated against his core as you answered him the best you could. “what did you think when you saw me with the piercing?”

a cute blush struck your cheeks. too tired to feel an extreme wave of embarrassment, let alone invent excuses, you confessed. “honestly? what we did before, but not this. definitely not this.” you shared a wholesome giggle, comforting each other with your body warmth.

“does that mean we’ll do this again?” he lifted his chin from your shoulder, forcing you to do so as well, and locked gazes with you. a small, radiant beam shining in his dark orbs, almost in a pleading way.

you chuckled one more time before raising your hand up to his messed, sweaty hair, combing it affectionately. “yes, woo. we’ll do this again.”

your words seemed to make wooyoung’s tired state fade into an excited feature of himself. even though, you’ll try it again in your next sex session —which will probably be in less than three days—. still, excitement rushed through his limbs, and couldn’t help but wrap you in a tight hug as high-pitched squeals muffled against your exposed, hickey-covered chest.

your giggle tingled against his flushed cheek, fingers still brushing the sides of his raven hair. “what am i gonna do with you?”

| masterlist

#© hwallazia #ateez #ateez smut #jung wooyoung #wooyoung #wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic

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pupyuj · 23 days ago

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[cw: dom ive unnie line x sub wony, like deadass in-the-depths-of-subspace wony, g!p rei bcs idgaf, rei has a BIGGG unnie kink.]

genuinely tried to not make this drag on but the ideas just kinda kept coming 😭 i thought the annyeongz fic i'm working on rn would be the first and only idol x idol thing from me but ah... wonyoung ships are just too good for me to not write anything about them 🥰💞

wonyoung is never EVER beating the unnie’s girl allegations it’s actually so bad for her 😔 she just can’t help it okay!? whenever the unnies speak, something in her brain just rewires itself into making her a perfect, obedient little doll for them and them only 🫠 and she knows the unnies in question love her undivided attention anyway! 🤭 yujin, who is the leader and does expect said attention. gaeul, who is not the leader but is the oldest so any authority that she has on someone, even if it’s small, she will devour. and rei, who is barely considered an unnie but very much wants to be bcs she wants to feel that respect yujin and gaeul feed their ego with 😵‍💫😵‍💫

wony knowing yujin the longest… meaning she would a different level of whipped for her 😍 eyes never leaving yujin while the leader talks, always nodding and agreeing to whatever she is saying, doing whatever the leader wants done from her… most specifically when yujin gets wonyoung alone in some room to talk about how the latter sometimes spaces out during performance discussions and briefings 🫣 wony having to apologize for having a wild, naughty imagination… for thinking about having her hands all over yujin’s perfect body… for wanting to be on her leader’s lap getting pampered and pleasured like the little princess she is 🥺🥺 ofc more often than not, yujinnie would entertain this and give wonyoung the sex she has probably been wanting all day… but sometimes she has to put her leader cap on and punish bad behavior! 😤

and naturally, wonyoung just so happened to love the most common way of punishing disobedient subs—spanking! 💕 being bent over a table with the side of face pressed down and her hair gripped tightly by her yujin-unnie… her skirt on the floor and her panties brought down only to her thighs bcs yujinnie was so hasty and didn’t waste any more time before she started hitting wony’s ass 😮‍💨😮‍💨 wony having to bite back her cute whines and moans bcs yujin just so happened to drag her inside a room that did not have soundproofed walls… and it gets even better when wony arches her back for more, giving yujin a view of her wet pussy… so desperate to be filled up, but yujin was not giving into her own desire this time 🤭

spanking wony until her butt was red and her legs were twitching… and believe it or not, wonyoung came from all of that alone! and ofc yujin wasn’t too mean to her poor pretty girl—she made sure to give wonyoung’s perfect ass a good eating before they both left that room happier than ever 🥰

oh gaeul… the unnie wony adores the most 🥺 follows her around like a lovesick bunny, always hugging her from behind bcs gaeul is just so snug in wonyoung’s arms 😔💕 wony doesn’t know what it is about gaeul that just made her impossible to act… normal around her 😭 maybe it’s the endearingly lazy way that gaeul talked, maybe it’s gaeul’s pretty eyes that was always on wonyoung’s body, maybe it’s the rare moments where gaeul would take charge and boss everyone around… that last one gets wonyoung squirming in her seat every time she thinks about it 🤭 she does a lot of things on purpose to poke the bear that is gaeul’s inner strictness! giving the older girl bedroom eyes from across the table during meetings and if they’re sitting right next to each other, wony would tease her by caressing gaeul’s leg with her foot under the table 🫣 also wearing risqué outfits for gaeul to be the only one to notice that it’s inappropriate, intentionally making mistakes during dance practices so gaeul would be the one to correct her… the more the eldest gets visibly upset, the more wony considers her actions a great success! 🤭

all of that makes gaeul’s nightly visits to wonyoung’s room a lot more fun! but see, gaeul makes no mention of wonyoung’s actions bcs she knew that would only make wonyoung do them more… so the older girl settles with keeping her princess up ‘till dawn using her mouth 😋 seriously, gaeul will join wonyoung in her bed dead in the night, feel her up enough to get her soaked before finally burying her head in between her thighs… and it gets even better when gaeul makes wony work for her climax! slowing down on purpose to the point it frustrates the little princess and she flips the older girl over to ride her face 🫠🫠 in direct contrast to yujin who loves punishing wonyoung on the spot and jumping at every opportunity to do so, gaeul is smart and knows that it’s just what wonyoung wants so instead of giving her that, gaeul makes her beg.

but that’s okay, wony would do anything her gaeul-unnie wants! 🥺 ride her face until dawn? beg and beg for release? scream her name so loud that wonyoung would have to bite on a pillow? everything would be done, and done well.

and rei, the wannabe unnie of 04z 🤭💕 it’s cute when the members tease her about wanting to take care of the girls of the same age as her but it’s a very real desire, okay!? 😤 she wants to be seen as this mature and responsible member who can be just as reliable as gaeul and yujin… especially by wonyoung, who is a few years her senior when it comes to being an idol and being the picture of elegance and class 🤭 it’s so obvious rei wants to be fawned over as an unnie and wonyoung has a hell of a time entertaining her! 😋 during practices, when rei does something as simple as handing wonyoung a bottle of water during a break or being the one to wipe her sweat away with a towel, wonyoung always makes sure to say “thank you, unnie” very, very quietly before scurrying away with a smirk knowing she has just flipped a switch inside rei’s brain 😵‍💫

but oh, rei knows wonyoung can be a big tease sometimes... and once the princess is having fun, it's quite difficult to put her down so, rei likes to get a jump on things! 😋 forcing wonyoung down on her knees in the dirty bathroom floors, even binding her hands behind her back with a silk necktie rei just so happened to be bringing around during dance practice days, and making the pretty princess suck her cock with great difficulty bcs wonyoung always needed to take it slow or else she doesn't do well :( but she always wants to please her unnies... so she forces herself to do her best bcs if rei isn't feeling good then that would just hurt her pride! looking up at rei with tears of pleasure, taking up all of her length down her throat even though she was gagging... all of that just to hear rei's sweet voice call her a very good girl and tell her how much she was making her feel so good 🤭

rei having to cum all over wony's face bcs she looks the prettiest that way :(( and wony hates it when her makeup gets ruined but if letting rei do that means getting filled up her cock immediately after... well then, whatever 'unnie' wants, 'unnie' gets! 💓💓

#ive smut #ive imagines #ive scenarios #ive thoughts #annyeongz smut #danjangz smut #gongjuz smut #jang wonyoung x ahn yujin smut #jang wonyoung x kim gaeul smut #jang wonyoung x naoi rei smut #girl group smut #girl group imagines #girl group scenarios #girl group thoughts #kpop smut

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starry-fame · 5 months ago

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

Summary:

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

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

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

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

Like a moth to a flame, you follow.

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

Word Count: 11,734

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

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

Masterlist

Sequel - Caleb Loves to Bully You in Bed

It burns.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Caleb…”

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

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

“What was that for?”

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

Like always, he watches. You look away.

“Thirsty.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I… know that. It’s just….”

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

“You gonna fall back asleep soon?”

You blink. “Huh?” Caleb doubles down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Demands?”

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

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

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

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

“I see.”

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

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

“I missed you.”

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

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

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

“You tell other people about me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah… I… I guess—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Never?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you—“

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

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

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

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

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

“Finish what you started.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have a list?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

Sequel — Caleb Loves to Bully You in Bed

#love and deepspace #caleb #caleb x reader #caleb x mc #gender neutral reader #caleb love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love and deepspace smut #xia yizhou #xia yizhou x reader

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xxanaduwrites · 7 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ˚ ୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

teachin’ a lesson

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which benny teaches the newbies a lesson ‘bout messin’ with his honey….😤 + a super cute ending ofc 💋

warnings: an absolute smack fest, the whole shabang: bar fight, dudes being creeps, talks of violence, blood, & injury. hyperventilating & shaking. unwanted advances :(

author’s note: another angst piece. couldn’t help myself…but this will be ending with a certain request i keep receiving ;) this is from the goin’ steady segment which can be found on da main hive, so they are fully dating here for time line & context purposes…or are they? 👀

word count: 4.2k

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You were at the club when it happened. It being something you could only daydream about. Something you never actually expected to come tumbling out of Benny’s pretty pillowy lips.

It was a regular day — as regular as one could ever be at the club. The boys were havin’ a meeting and of course Benny dragged you along. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go. Hey — you’d been to plenty of meetings. Yet, your two cents only became required when the other guys' old ladies were involved, and today wasn’t one of those days. Being the only lady currently on the premises, you dropped your backpack on the bar, the sound of your keychains reverberating around the space with a chorus of clanks. A chorus you hadn’t noticed caught the eye of some other bikers mulling around. In your defense, you were far too focused on your man, his baby blue eyes drooping down at you with a precious pout to match.

“M’sorry, honey,” he said suddenly, eyes trained on you as y’sat your sweet butt on one of the nearby bar stools.

His apology took you by surprise, and your fingers which were now fiddling about on the zippers of your backpack paused momentarily. “For wha?” You asked, tilting your head to observe him.

“Takin’ y’here. Not bringin’ y’straight home,” he admitted, in the midst of flagging over the bartender with a flick of his finger. “Shouldn’t take too long though.”

You sighed. “S’fine, Benny. S’not like I can’t make myself busy,” you reasoned, motioning to your backpack in front of you that held all your work supplies. “Stap it with t’pologizing.”

It wasn’t Benny’s fault that he had a meeting to be at fresh after school hours. It was more your fault for not knowing how to drive. But you knew he didn’t care so much about that. He cared more about making sure you were safe and spending as much time with you as possible. And those rides well — they assured all of that. He didn’t have to worry about you waitin’ to take a random bus full of creeps. Didn’t have to wonder about the next time he’d be seeing you because surely it would be every day on your morning and afternoon drives, right?

So be it. Here you were, and you wouldn’t complain — no. You wanted to be with Benny just as much. And besides, the more time you spent at home, the more your parents were concerning you with their honey business, keeping you away from the lesson planning you really needed to do. Benny — bless his heart — was such a good sport with that. Giving you the space you needed — well while simultaneously taking it all up. You couldn’t deny how much you adored being perched next to him, tucked in a booth at Rosie’s diner, his arm slung around your shoulder. His pretty blue eyes would stare at you so intently, watching every little move you made and god was it so hard to concentrate sometimes. Yet, he made you feel so comfortable. Too comfortable, uncoiling the ball of stress that’d become you anytime you found yourself swapping or changing plans. He was so good. So attentive. Oh the thought alone was making your cheeks dust pink.

A brow raised in intrigue as he popped a fresh cig in his mouth, his smile curving around the cylinder too perfectly. “Wha?” He asked, catching the not-so-subtle shift in your features, now doused in burnin’ love.

“S’nothin’.” You shrugged and bit down on your lip, the taste of your vanilla honey lip gloss hitting your taste buds.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, eyeing you up and down for a second. A second that proved he knew it wasn’t nothing. Knew it was very much something. But, he wasn’t gonna find out. No, not with the bartender finally sauntering over and putting your conversation to a halt.

“Hay, you two,” the man greeted. Marty to be exact. He swiped a dishrag over his shoulder and dropped his hands on the counter in front of him before asking. “What’ll it be? The usual whiskey and shirley?” He asked, knowing both of your orders by heart.

“Nah, a beer’s fine,” he replied, his answer taking you by a hint of surprise, but you figured it was because he was taking you home right after. Home to your mother and father. But you didn’t want to assume. You knew Benny was well — Benny. That he didn’t care what anybody thought about him. Could give two shits about it. Yet, when it came to you — oh he couldn’t stand anyone that thought less of you. Sure, he’d still be drinking, but he hadn’t picked the harder option of the two, and hey — you understood. I mean it wasn’t like you’d be here for the night, hanging out, shooting the shit, and playing pool like a normal weekend. Hell — it was the middle of the week. An absolute bummer to say the least. “Honey?” He summoned you, swiping you right out of your thoughts.

You blinked. Once. Twice. Shook your head even, making your dangling earrings shimmy about. “Hm, yeah?”

“Y’alright?” Benny asked, his leather clad arm snaking around your back, calloused fingers hugging your side.

“M’fine. Sorry, didn’t mean to miss what y’said,'' you replied sheepishly, mind wandering all over the place. “What y’say anyways, hm?”

Benny bit down a smile then, enjoying the way your litftle nose scrunched up in pure thought. “‘Tender askin’ for your order,” he reminded.

“Oh, right! Ya, I’ll just have a plain ale, Marty.” You told him, motioning your hand about. Delicate fingers traced the air, pink ballet slipper polish doing its usual dance on your nails.

“Y’sure your alright?” Benny asked again, clearly unconvinced as Marty left you two with a solid nod, already working on your order. Benny was really good at reading you. Too good. The more he spent time with you, the easier it was for him to understand you. Knowing that you were a quite talkative and bubbly person, always so attentive to what everybody was saying, it was unusual for you to be so out of touch.

“M’sure, baby. Just thinkin’ ‘bout my plans, y’know?” You assured him, opening up your daily planner simultaneously. A vibrant array of colorful sticky pads and gelly pens jumped off the pages as you flipped through to your desired date.

“I see, I see,” Benny’s lips turned up soundly, the sight of your school books always getting a kick out of him. You were just too cute with your pretty pens and neat cursive, pencils always sticking out of your sunny updo. The passion you put in your work always felt so reminiscent of the way he felt ridin’. It was hard not to love you the most when you were in your element. “Meetin’ starting soon, so I’ll leave ya to it, Honey. But M’gonna take a piss quick. Be back for my drink.” He told you, but then asked, “Y’watch?”

“Course,” you smiled up at him, as his fingers trailed across your back, leaving your hold. And then he was off and across the room, saying something to Johnny before excusing himself completely. And you — you had your nose in your books, skimming the pages with precision, tuning out the rest of the world around you. So much so that you hadn’t noticed the drinks in front of you nor the ogglings newbies eating up your form until you did.

“Wha’s a lil’thing like you doin’, ere’?” One asked, perched to your left, an elbow knocking over your pencil case.

Before you could reply another took purchase on your right, caging you in. The stranger picked up one of your colorful pens and chuckled. “Y’know this ain’t the library, right sweet’eart?” He mused, a warm breath reeking of alcohol hitting your neck and tickling your nose.

“I —“ you began, but got cut off immediately by the original guy. The one on the left of this supposed sandwich you were entrapped in.

“S’no use Hank. Whad’a she know besides this frilly shit, aye,” he laughed, degradindly. “Y’wanna know somethin’ rough, somethin’ real, sweet’eart? Gotta itch y’need to scratch?”

You felt small. So small against these men, that you usually — oddly enough felt tall around. But no, these men weren’t your boys. Just men. Some trickling back from war. Most spawned from new chapters, doped up on things you’d never seen before. Doped up on an image and level that you didn’t know. A level you’d never match. And they didn’t like that, no — not one bit. You in your sweet savory appearance was no match against these rowdy men that didn’t know better. Didn’t know the club the way you did. The way Johnny did. The way Brucie did. The way Benny, Cal, Corky, Wahoo, Cockroach, and Zipco did. Even Funny Sonny!

“I — M’good. No thank ya,” you managed out, still startled by this whole display.

“Ahh, c’mom…know y’need it. S’just a lil’scrtach,” one of them kept going. Which one you weren’t sure, but whoever it was wasn’t taking no for an answer. Suddenly a rough hand was grabbing you and before you could react the stool went spinning around. Your vision blurred in an instant, a yelp escaping you at the contact. The bar became a fizzy of light and color, deep mahogany wood meshing into the cottony blend of your clouded eyes…

Pop!

If it weren’t for a bar of bikers being present, you would’ve thought a balloon had popped in front of your eyes, maybe even a bag of popcorn. But no — it was the man, the man who had just grabbed you, and now as your hand braced the bar behind you, your stool settled down, your vision evening out, you could see him. As clear as day, he was smack on the ground. Flat on his back. Face being knocked about. Back and forth. Up and down. Fists to skin against bone. Fists — upon your further inspection and descent across the man’s form — to be Benny. Your Benny. Pinning the man down and going at him in full force.

“Oh — Benny!” You hollered in distress when the man got a swing at him suddenly, your feet planting down on the ground in an instant without a second thought.

Of course, to your dismay, you didn’t get far. An arm materialized around your waist in an instant and pulled you back to them. And if it wasn’t for the familiar fringes of a certain jacket swinging against your sides — sparkly jewels of your own design shining in your peripheral vision — you would have fought. “S’not safe for ya, Cuz. Let ‘em at it,” Funny Sonny mumbled in your ear, the sound of his voice relaxing you as much as it could. Grateful to be in the arms of someone you knew instead of that of a strange man had you slipping without a second thought.

Eyes darting all around, your gaze lost Benny in the shuffle of it all. To the looks of it, all the newbies darted after Benny after the first swing and well — the oldies were not having that. Not one bit. What you’d come to learn later was that Benny had already been trudging across the way with a look to kill, his fist connecting with the man’s face not even a second after the man grabbed you. Another second that could’ve been too late upon anyone else’s action. Punch after punch, blow after blow, you could see them. All of them. Johnny in a wrestle with one guy, Brucie trying to block Marty and bar from any advances, Cal holding another up against a nearby wall by the collar, Zipco swiping a rando out with one hit and then sipping his beer ever-so casually, Corky and Wahoo slamming around with these other two guys near the pool table — a ball of two cracking in the process, and Cockroach being Cockroach.

With too much to process, you tried to remain steady against Sonny, but your tremblin’ became obvious. Too obvious to him under his dirt driven finger tips. “Sh, S’all good. They’ll cool down,” he assured. Of course he was right.

Breathless and exhausted, one by one the men broke apart. Panting with their hands on their knees. And then there was Benny, the last of the bunch — still pulling throws at the man under him, face soaked in a deep crimson, what features could be present?

“Benny — aye, Benny…’nough,” Johnny was calling him, pulling him up by his feet like a rag doll. “Y’lesson learned.” He mumbled in Benny’s ears hoping it would do the trick.

Benny only wrenched forward just a bit, Johnny’s hand flattening against his chest to keep him in place. Instead of keeping the physical assault going, he opted to be vocal. “Y’stay ‘way from my wife, y’here?” He spit out ever-so suddenly. Too suddenly that if Sonny wasn’t holding you back you would have fallen to the floor in complete and utter shock. Wife? Wife! Had he really just said what you thought he said? “If I see ya ever lift a finger, even look in ‘er direction again, i’ll kill ya.” He gritted out, sending a stillness across the club.

“I —“ the man choked on the ground, trying to get his words out, but failing with a breathless huff. “I did—didn’t —“

“We uh — we didn’t know she was y’wife, man. Sorry,” the other dude that had been flanked at your side earlier spoke up, who you assumed to be Hank confirming that your ears had in fact been working. That you hadn’t been imagining things after all. He had said what you thought he said, and now well — now you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“Now y’do,” he grumbled, and with one last look down at the crimson smeared man below him, he made his statement known with a solid spit.

The show was over as soon as it came, Benny turning out of Johnny’s hold. Johnny patted him on the back before he walked away. Away towards you. Only you. Johnny was saying something. Making an announcement of sorts about you when Sonny’s grip on you was released. Without a word you fumbled into Benny’s side, your makeup coded face smudging into his vest jacket as his arm curled around you. So warm. So protective. You couldn’t help but keep your eyes snapped closed as you made your way outdoors, the sound of the bar door swinging confirming your relocation. His boots stopped scruffing against the pavement and your ballet flats planted as soon as he did.

You turned in his hold, pawing, gripping at him. An unusual display of yourself before him, detached from the strong independent bubble you’d built around yourself. But he took you in. Into his hold as you snuggled deeply into his chest, practically crawling inside his colors with the two sides draped over your shoulders. His strong arms wrapped around your back without a second thought, pulling you in further, deeper, closer. Yet, you never felt close enough. Not like this that is….

“M’right ‘ere, baby. Right ‘ere.” He mumbled into the honeydew mop of curls at the top of your head.

“Aye were — he was s’close to…to…” you stammered into his chest. “an — and my p—pens..”

“I kno — I,” Benny grimaced, words catching in his throat by your addition. “Wha’ ‘bout your pens, baby?” Instead of replying you just nuzzled your face further into his chest. “Hm?” He pushed, worn fingers threading fallen strands of your hair out of your face so he could look at you. “Y’tell ya Benny, Honey?”

Looking up at him, your eyes glossed over, a light sniffle escaping you. You were too stunned to cry, but shaken enough to feel emotional all over. “One of ‘em p—pushed my pencil case o—over. Think some of ‘em f—fell behind the bar. Saw my fav—favorite pink one…” you hiccuped, words all over the place but coherent enough for Benny to understand what you were stammering about.

He found your worry over your school supplies to be real wholesome. Here you were coming off of the high of almost being attacked, and you were more worried about your work than yourself. Just went to show how much passion you put into your craft, and oh did he just love you for that.

He had to suppress a laugh, had to stop himself from smiling when you were clearly so upset. “M’sure Marty will find it, baby.” He bit down on his lip soundly and then added, “Not, I’ll buy ya a whole bunch a’new ones. Y’never realize ya lost one, yeah?”

“Y—yeah,” you nodded, the smooth skin of your face moving against his warm palms.

He knew you wouldn’t have lost one to begin with. Not if he was there. Not if he hadn’t left ya for just a minute. Not if he would’ve been more claimin’ near the bar, holding you closer. Kissin’ ya before he walked away. His biggest fears had come to fusion. The thoughts of you being creeped on were always on his mind, and yet here he was. At the club. A place he felt safe in. A place he thought you’d be safest in. Of course there weren’t any thoughts behind those baby blue eyes of his when it came to making them know you were his. He never had to after all. It was obvious in the way he looked at you. Everybody knew — well everyone before the newbies came along. And the newbies, who he’d hoped would be better than that towards the ladies, proved to be otherwise.

You tiny fingers reached up, splaying over his large hands in solace and breaking his thoughts tenfold. “How’s y’hands?” You asked, urging them lower so you could inspect them.

His knuckles were battered and bruised. Raw to the touch and he didn’t even flinch when your fingers ghosted over his burning skin. “M’fine,” he assured you, and he was fine. As fine as he could be. Barely a scratch on his face was present, just a small splash of blood dried up on the bridge of his nose. Blood of the other guy who’d been sputtering below him.

“Wha’ about you? Tha’ bastard didn’t grab ya too hard, did ‘e?” He gritted, his fingers meticulously trailing down your sides and pawing at the edges of your shirt.

“Nah, nah,” you shook your head in earnest. “S’quick, couldn’t even leave a dent.”

“Tha’ right?” he double checked, pleased to know he swooped in just in time.

“Mhm,” you hummed, your finger finding a lone string from one of his patches, clearly losing its stitch. You twirled the material ‘round your little finger, making a note to patch it up for him later on. “Y’gonna tell me wha’ that was all ‘bout anyways?” You began, not giving much context on the matter, but not thinking you had to. The elephant in the room — well now outside — was obvious. Far too obvious to ignore.

“‘Bout what?” He asked innocently, blue eyes sparkling so much that he had to look down and busy himself with his pocket. Paw out a new cigarette to stop himself from giving you a look that would reveal it all. “Had to teach ‘em a lesson. Learned from the best.” He mused, drawing a cheeky smile out of you with his obvious flirting.

But your thoughts gnawed at you, so much so that your lips tightened into a thin line. “Y’know….” you trailed off, a shyness taking over you. You kept your eyes on the string, finding it easier to talk about such a matter this way. “The whole bein’ married thang…M’not your wife, y’know?” You shrugged casually as if it wasn’t such a life changing notion.

“I know…” he mumbled just as nonchalantly. Too nonchalantly, you figured the entire conversation was canned. Never to be open again, but no — to your surprise he kept it open. “Not yet at least…” he mused and your heart lurched in your chest. Catapulted even. No one ever saw Benny as the marryin’ type. One to settle down and start a life. But here he was, pitchin’ just that in a beat. A beat that had you questionin’ for a second or two if he was messing with ya.

“Benny…” you warned, a twinkle dotting your eye as a smirk managed to scoot through your lips. “Y’Wouldn't dare pull my leg, would ya?” You asked, nibble fingers pulling out his lighter and hitting the end of his cig for him.

“Nah…Nah. M’serious,” he exhaled, a cloud of smoke swirling around you two, making y’dizzy. Looked like you were gonna need a smoke now too. Was perfect timing truly, catching him trying to rip off one his rings from his swollen fingers, the cigarette dangly dangerous from his lips. Swallowing the lump that was forming in your throat from eyeing his action, your mind buzzing about with assumption, you didn’t hesitate to shakily draw the cylinder from his lips, taking your own drag of the thing. “Fuckin’ hell…” he groaned, almost losing his patience until his pinky ring slid off with one last nudge. “‘Ere,” he motioned then to your vacant finger. A finger you hadn't realized was itching for a ring longer than anticipated. Longer than your childhood daydreams could ever imagine. “Y’wanna get hitched, baby?”

Too stunned to speak, your cheeks dusted the same shade of bright pink, mirroring your pretty pen tossed behind the bar somewhere. Holding out your hand to him, you nodded in confirmation. Making it known to him that you wanted this. Wanted him.

“S’not pretty…” he huffed, slipping the bulky thing on your little finger. “but, it’ll do f’now. Until I get ya a betta one.”

“Oh Benny, no!” You chirped, cheeks hurting from smiling so hard at the comically large ring. “S’perfect. So perfect!” You assured him, popping the cig back in his mouth before wrapping your arms around his neck in pure excitement. You couldn’t care less about one of those big rocks. A flashy piece your fellow teachers would come in with just to flaunt. Money didn’t matter to you like that, not as much as love. And you loved the fact you’d be wearing a piece of Benny’s jewelry on your finger. A symbol of himself practically adorned to you. It was beautiful. So beautiful.

His eyes widened in shock, a laugh escaping against an unusually big grin, reverberating against your chest like the sweetest song. “Now who’s the one pulling legs?” He joked, dropping the cigarette you’d been sharing to the ground and putting it out with his boot.

“Oh shut it,” you mused, pulling him down by the collar of his shirt for a kiss which he obliged. His lips molded against yours like honey — thick, sweet, and oh-so smooth. And he was all over you, buzzing you up from head to toe, stinging your neck with peppering kisses as his hands grabbed your behind like he was kneading the dough of a honey bun. In his defense you were his honey bun, and now you’d always be by law. By marriage. By love. And god did you two just love eachother so. Kept whispering it into the smokey air like a decree.

You didn’t know how long you’d been out there, but you figured it was a while. Enough time for Johnny to have a stern talking to the other guys about you. About the rest of their girls and wives and whatever other woman stepped into the club. There’d be no going after any gal like that, no matter who they were. End of story as far as Johnny was concerned. And now Johnny was sauntering outside for a cigarette, figuring you two were long gone. But no — you were leaning against Benny as he mused sweet nothings into your ear, a broad smile stretching across your sweet face making Johnny certain that you were alright.

“Aye Johnny,” Benny called the man only a few feet over, a burning orange dowsing his features in a glow as he lit up his own cylinder.

“Yeah, kid?” He raised a brow, giving Benny his attention as he took a fresh drag.

“Think y’can get that Father down ‘ere for Honey n’ me?” He asked earnestly.

Johnny squinted in the afternoon sun, blinking once, twice to digest Benny’s seriousness. “Hitchin’ a ride?” Johnny reviewed subtly, not trying to stir the obvious to the newbies inside that thought otherwise.

“Somethin’ like that,” Benny hinted, you confirming the notion just as fast. For a second time that afternoon, your pink ballet slipper nails danced in the air, but this time with a funky new addition to the mix.

And Johnny couldn’t help but huff out a laugh, delighted at such a sight. Knowing as sure as shit that he’d do everything in his power to make sure the two of you were happy. Cause Benny was family, and now you’d be too. Calling Father? ‘Course he would. He’d be crazy not to as far as his daughters were concerned. Couldn’t wait to tell them that their favorite teacher would be their brand new auntie. They’d be jumping up and down for sure.

“I’ll give ‘im a ring,” Johnny confirmed like a big ol’ fairy godfather.

And there, outside the bar after a crazy afternoon of swinging fists, it was settled.

Sure as shit — you’d be the future Mrs. Cross after all. And hey — maybe that bastard biker was right about one thing. You had an itch to scratch for sure. One that required filling your notepads and planners with your sweet swirly cursive, your new name etched into the thin sheets with your favorite pink pen….

Mrs. Cross. Mrs. Cross.

Mrs. Cross. <3

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

author’s note: these bees are engaged !! 🐝💍🐝

big ty to @zablife for being such a doll & inspiring the iconic mrs. cross cursive. x 💋🫶

my requests are open for ONLY miss honey x benny cross works + any convos about these two in general. don’t be shy honey, i’m all for yapping in the asks.

+ don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

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#miss honey x benny cross #the bikeriders fanfiction #austin butler fanfiction #the bikeriders x reader #benny cross x reader #from the hive 🎙️🐝#residue da series #a residue installment #benny cross x you #honey cross 💍#johnny davis

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