#this is semi-unrelated of a thought by the way

[latrespada]

ᯓ ✈︎ apple of his envy

You arrive home late, far past the promised dinner time, only to find Caleb soaking in a warm bath. As you approach, you notice his expression, even in sleep, is etched with a scowl of annoyance. Gently, you bend down to touch his cheek, but before you can, he pulls you into the bath with an unrelenting grip. His arms are tight around you, his voice thick with tension and a hint of desperation, as if he had feared you wouldn’t return, or worse, that you had chosen someone else over him. In the steamy embrace, he reminds you with unspoken intensity where you truly belong—by his side. Even if it means sinking together into a bath swirling with sensual, envious passion.

lads caleb x reader

warnings : semi-jealousy, bath sex, bathtub sex, possessive sex, angst and hurt/comfort

6.5k words

rated : m

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62700367

A/N: This was a bit tricky to write—I wanted to make the positioning clear, but bathtubs are surprisingly complicated! Also, I couldn’t help but notice how much you all enjoyed the dry-humping fic. I’m really happy you liked the last one.

You exit West Garden Station and sprint toward home, your heart pounding with worry and a tinge of fear. Thoughts race through your mind, colliding in a cacophony of guilt and dread. You had promised to be home before dinner, but the day spiraled out of control. You meant to take a short break from your reports, but one thing led to another, and now it’s nearing midnight—four hours past when you were supposed to be home.

The air feels heavy, thunder rumbling ominously in the distance as the clouds above flash shades of purple. A storm is brewing, but it’s nothing compared to the one waiting for you at home. You know Caleb doesn’t mind when life gets in the way of plans, but failing to keep him updated? That’s what sets him off. You push your legs harder, running as though you can somehow outrun his disappointment.

You finally reach your apartment complex, breathless, your chest tightening as you fumble for your keys. Your trembling hands make quick work of unlocking the door, and you step inside, greeted by darkness. The faint aroma of red-braised tofu lingers in the air—a reminder of the dinner you missed. The silence is suffocating as you pull out your phone, using its flashlight to guide your way.

The living room is empty, with not a single light left on. The kitchen has been cleaned, and the only evidence of its earlier use is a faint warmth in the air. You move toward the bedroom, kicking off your boots, socks, hunter’s vest, and belt as you go. It’s eerily untouched, and the bed is still neatly made, save for a few wrinkles, as though someone had briefly sat there before moving on.

The bathroom door creaks slightly as you push it open, and your eyes fall on a shadowy figure reclining in the tub. Your hand searches for the light switch, and when you flick it on, the scene becomes clear. Caleb lies there, his head tilted back, a towel draped over his face. His arms rest along the sides of the tub, and his knees break the surface of the water. He looks like a marble statue, serene yet heavy with unspoken emotions.

“Light… off,” he mumbles, his voice low and flat.

“You want me to turn off the light?” you ask cautiously.

“Off,” he snaps, louder this time.

“Alright, alright,” you say, raising your hands in surrender. Turning off the light and stepping out into the hallway, your heart is still racing. After rummaging in the kitchen, you return with a candle and a lighter. The faint glow casts soft, flickering shadows on the tiled walls as you enter the bathroom again.

Caleb hasn’t moved, still draped in his dead-like pose, but the candlelight softens the edges of his silhouette. “I brought a candle,” you say gently, placing it on the counter. “Just to give you some lighting and mood for your relaxation.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, his chest rising and falling in steady breaths, but you think you catch the faintest twitch of his lips—a subtle acknowledgment of your gesture.

“I’m not relaxed,” Caleb says, his voice low, etched with an almost threatening seriousness.

“Why are you in the bath then?” you ask softly, sitting on the edge of the tub, your concern growing with every second.

“I’m stressed… thought this would help. It’s what you do.”

“Stressed? Why’s that?” you ask, leaning forward to touch his cheek. But before your fingers can graze his skin, Caleb’s hand shoots out, gripping your wrist and pulling you into the tub with him.

Water splashes everywhere as you struggle against his hold, your clothes heavy and clinging to your skin. Caleb’s grip is unyielding, his strength pinning you down. Finally, you push yourself free, shoving his shoulders with a force that makes his back hit the porcelain edge. “What the hell, Caleb?” you shout, water dripping from your soaked hair.

Caleb doesn’t react immediately. He sits there, his head tilted back, the towel still covering his face, ignoring your anger.

Grabbing the towel, you hit his face with it. “I said, what the—”

“I know what you said,” Caleb interrupts sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. He pulls the towel off his face, his eyes locking onto yours with a raw intensity. “You were gone for so long. I didn’t know if you were coming back. You said you’d be here hours ago.” His voice wavers slightly as he sits up, his hands suddenly gripping your face, forcing your foreheads together. His breath is hot, his touch desperate. “I thought you’d finally left. That you didn’t need me anymore. Or maybe… maybe you found someone else too…” He stops, his words choking in his throat. Instead, he rubs his forehead against yours, the motion rough and unsettling.

“Stop it,” you groan, pushing him away.

He falls back slightly, his hand covering his face as if shielding himself from his own thoughts. “Were you with Zayne?” he asks, his voice quieter but laced with suspicion.

“No,” you answer firmly.

“Your colleague. Did he drag you into his work again? You know he shouldn’t need you for everything.”

“No,” you repeat, your patience wearing thin.

“Were you hired as some overnight bodyguard?”

“Enough,” you snap, your tone cutting through the room like a whip.

“Enough?” Caleb laughs bitterly, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Am I not enough?”

You try to stand, to pull yourself out of the tub, but Caleb grabs you again, his hold growing tighter. He drags you back into the water, his desperation palpable.

“Caleb, I’m still freaking dressed!” you exclaim, trying to wrestle free.

“Am I not enough?” he repeats, his voice trembling, his eyes searching yours for answers you can’t give. “Answer me!”

“Caleb…” you groan, prying at his hands, but his grip doesn’t waver.

Then, without warning, he places a hand over your mouth and the other on your back, dipping you into the water. It’s not forceful, not meant to harm—there’s no malice in his actions. Instead, it feels like he’s trying to calm himself, to ground his spiraling emotions. He pulls you back up moments later, your hair slicked back, water streaming down your face as his half-lidded eyes bore into yours.

“I was waiting,” he whispers, his voice raw and broken. “And while I waited, I thought maybe I could distract myself. Played with myself. But every time I tried to think of you, to feel close to you… my mind kept drifting to the idea that you’d found another home.”

“Caleb, I was stuck at work,” you say softly, your voice trembling with sorrow.

“For that long?” he asks, his tone teetering between hurt and disbelief.

You don’t reply. There’s no excuse you can offer or words that would improve it.

“I thought you’d found someone else to hold,” he continues, his voice barely audible now. “Someone else to need. To cook for you.” He laughs bitterly, the sound hollow. Dropping his head onto your chest, he nuzzles into the exposed skin of your cleavage, his breath warm against your damp skin. “Am I really that replaceable?” he asks, his voice breaking, his vulnerability spilling out like the water around you.

As you press his head against your chest, cradling him, your head resting on his, there’s a quiet understanding in the shared silence. His arms snake around your thighs, shifting your legs to fit snugly against his lap, grounding you both in this moment.

“No, you’re not replaceable,” you murmur, your voice soft yet steady. “But even if I tell you that, I know you won’t believe me just like that.” Your fingers stroke his damp hair as you ask, “What can I do to assure you?”

Caleb tilts his head, his eyes locking onto yours with an almost childlike vulnerability. “What’s the most important thing I need from you?” he asks, his tone imploring, as though willing you to understand without him saying it outright.

Your brows knit together as you hesitate. “To own me?” you offer, unsure, the words trembling out of your mouth.

He lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head before leaning back, still keeping you anchored on his lap. His hands rest loosely on your hips, but his gaze is intense, flickering between the water and your face. He brushes his wet hair back, the strands sticking to his forehead, his usually sharp features softened by the dull ache in his eyes. You’re transfixed, your fingers instinctively tracing the curve of his jaw, the bridge of his nose, the swell of his lips. His mouth is slightly swollen, perhaps from his teeth pressing into it—whether out of frustration, longing, or anxiety, you can’t tell.

Caleb catches your hand, kissing it with surprising tenderness. “To feel you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing over your knuckles again. “To know you need me.” His voice is raw, the words carrying an unspoken weight.

He shifts beneath you, his legs spreading wider to adjust your position as he pulls you closer, to him. His hands are firm yet reverent. “Though this feeling isn’t the most important thing to me,” he says, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “it’s one I don’t mind… as long as your warmth is on me—and me only.”

You’re hyper-aware of his body beneath yours, the press of his erection evident even through the layers of damp fabric. The friction sends a jolt through you as you instinctively move, attempting to kneel, but your movements falter, slipping against the slick surface of the tub.

“Let me help you,” Caleb says softly, his hands steadying your waist. His fingers find the waistband of your soaked pants. “Stand up for me,” he coaxes, his voice gentle yet commanding.

You rise slowly, your gaze never leaving his as he unbuttons, unzips, and peels the fabric away with deliberate care. The water clings to your skin, droplets cascading down, some splashing onto Caleb’s face as he maintains unwavering eye contact. With a quiet determination, he slides your pants and underwear down your legs, his touch grazing your thighs. You lift one leg, then the other, stepping out of the discarded clothing, which lands with a wet thud on the bathroom floor.

Caleb’s hands trail up your legs, his fingers barely grazing your most sensitive areas before sliding beneath your blouse. His hands are warm despite the cool air, and they skim over your stomach before finding their way under your bra, cupping your breast with tenderness. His thumb brushes over your skin, igniting goosebumps in its wake.

“Please,” he murmurs, his voice trembling with emotion, “let me feel you in ways words can’t express.”

You drop to your knees, water sloshing over the tub’s edge, drenching the tiled floor in rippling streaks. Your fingers tremble as they grip the porcelain rim, your body leaning forward until your forehead rests against Caleb’s. His warm breath fans across your skin, mingling with the steamy heat from the bathwater. His hand lingers over the curve of your breast, his touch equal parts grounding and electrifying. Time seems to stop for a moment, the world outside the bathroom dissolving into the sound of rain tapping insistently against the windowpane.

Your hand wraps around his, gently tugging it free from beneath your soaked blouse and bra, guiding it upward until his calloused palm cradles your cheek. His thumb grazes your bottom lip, tracing it with a tender slowness that belies the tension between you. Your lips part under his touch, and before you can think better of it, he closes the gap, his mouth crashing against yours with unrestrained hunger. The kiss is messy, teeth grazing as his lips claim yours, an edge of desperation bleeding into every movement.

His teeth catch your bottom lip, pulling it slightly before his tongue sweeps over the sting, soothing and coaxing. His hands slip to your back, the broad span of his palms pressing you against him, molding your bodies together. Your arms loop around his neck in a frantic embrace, pulling him so close it feels as though you might never let go. The friction of your lower halves grazing, ignites a fire that licks at every nerve ending, an ache building deep and insistent.

Caleb pulls away suddenly, leaving you breathless, his chest heaving as he struggles to regain control. His hands find your hips, pushing you back until your spine meets the cold, slick surface of the tub. You let out a soft gasp at the sudden chill, your legs laying open as though of their own accord, your knees resting against the tub’s edges. The candlelight flickers across his face, half glowing warm and golden, the other lost in the inky shadows cast by the storm outside. The duality of light and darkness mirrors the push and pull between the gentleness in his touch and the raw, carnal need in his gaze.

His eyes trail over you, lingering on the translucent fabric of your blouse clinging to your skin. The faint outline of your bra beneath it seems to taunt him, his jaw tightening as his restraint frays. Slowly, almost reverently, his lips find yours again, softer this time but no less intense. His hands move with a deliberate urgency, tracing the soaked fabric to the buttons that run down your front. With a sharp tug, they give way, scattering across the floor with muted clinks, the sound swallowed by the storm’s distant rumble.

The blouse slips from your shoulders, the wet fabric sticking briefly before it’s discarded to the water enveloping you. Caleb doesn’t stop, his hands finding the delicate straps of your bra. Frustration flashes in his eyes as his fingers fumble with the clasp, his impatience winning out. He hooks his fingers under the straps and pulls, the lace and elastic giving way with a sharp snap. The ruined garment joins the growing pile of discarded clothing, leaving your skin bare beneath his gaze.

His breath catches, and his eyes drink you in with a reverence that sends a shiver racing down your spine. He lowers himself onto you, his weight pressing you deeper into the curve of the tub. The contact is intoxicating, and his warmth bleeding into your skin as your legs near around his hips, anchoring him to you. The water churns around you, soap bubbles bursting and clinging to your bodies as you move together, the rhythm driven by a shared, unspoken need.

You grip his shoulders, your nails biting into his slick skin as his lips trail from your mouth to your jaw and down the curve of your neck. The storm outside roars louder, the thunder echoing through the room, but it’s distant compared to the pounding of your heart, the ragged sounds of your breaths mingling with his. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered moan feels like a fuse burning faster, drawing you closer to the edge of something neither of you can control.

"Caleb…" you breathe out, your voice trembling as his lips trail along your jawline, their warmth lingering before descending to your neck. His mouth moves with purpose, licking at your sensitive skin before returning to claim your lips. His tongue dances with yours, the intimacy deepening with every heated second.

Your fingers find their way into his damp hair, grasping at it as though it’s the only anchor you have. He pulls away briefly, his eyes dark with desire as he takes one of your hands. Without breaking eye contact, he brings two of your fingers to his mouth, his tongue swirling around them sensually. The heat of his mouth and the slickness of his saliva send shivers through you. After a few lingering seconds, he releases them, your fingers now glistening.

Without thinking, you bring them to your lips, smearing the saliva across them like a makeshift balm, feeling the moisture cool in the air. Your gaze flickers to him, your expression daring and full of intent. Slowly, you shift yourself over, moving with purpose. Your knees find ground on the porcelain base as you lean forward, your torso arched enticingly. Your free hand grips the edge of the tub tightly for support, while your hips tilt back, pressing your rear firmly against Caleb’s groin.

The anticipation is electric as you use the slickness of his saliva to guide your hand under you, seeking out your sweet spot. Meanwhile, Caleb teases at your entrance with the tip of his length, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

"Mmnh," you moan softly, biting your lip as the ache of desire builds.

For a moment, both of you hover in this space of mutual teasing, pushing each other closer to the edge without fully giving in. You can feel yourself growing wetter, your body’s response undeniable as you prepare yourself for him.

Finally, your hand pulls away from your sweet spot, and you grip the opposite side of the tub, bracing yourself. Caleb wastes no time, his hands steadying your hips as he slowly slides himself inside. The touch is perfect, the heat overwhelming, and a low grunt escapes his lips at the sensation of you enveloping him.

"Nnngh," you whimper, your head tilting forward as his hips begin to move. He starts slowly, almost experimentally, before gradually picking up speed. The rhythm of his movements becomes more deliberate, his body pressing against yours with every thrust.

Your soapy hands begin to slip against the tub’s edge, the lack of grip threatening to throw you off balance. Sensing your struggle, Caleb tilts over your back, his chest pressing against your back, his heat enveloping you entirely. His hands cover yours, his fingers slipping between to lock them in place, giving you the stability you need.

The two of you move together in perfect harmony, the water rippling and splashing around you, the air thick with the sounds of pleasure and desire. The combination of his touch and the feeling of him inside you drives you to the brink, your senses overwhelmed in the most intoxicating way.

With a grip that is almost trembling, Caleb pulls your hair to one side, his fingers threading through the damp strands, only to find their spot again on your hands. His breath is warm and unsteady against your ear. He exhales a low, shaky sound that makes your stomach twist. His lips brush your skin, but he doesn’t kiss you—not yet. Instead, he lingers, his breathing heavier than before, like he’s trying to steady himself. Like he’s battling something in his head.

“You kept me waiting,” he whispers, the words coming out slower than usual, his voice laced with something quiet but raw. “I thought—” He stops himself, cutting off whatever thought had started to spill.

His lips press to the curve of your shoulder, his kisses softer than usual, more hesitant, like he’s savoring every inch of you, trying to remind himself you’re still here. His hips rock forward, slow and deliberate, and the movement forces your legs to spread wider, your back arching into him instinctively. But even as he moves, even as he drowns himself in you, there’s a tightness in the way he holds you.

You turn your head slightly, catching his gaze through your peripheral vision. His eyes are shadowed, darkened by more than just the dim candlelight. There’s something in them that makes your chest ache—something vulnerable, something afraid.

“It’s not like that,” you whisper, knowing exactly where his mind has taken him.

Caleb exhales sharply through his nose, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, his grip tightens around your hands. "You say that now," he mutters, pressing his forehead against the side of your head. "But people get tired. They move on. They find something— someone —better. More exciting. More… necessary ." His voice dips on that last word, almost like it pains him to say it aloud.

You turn your head fully this time, your nose brushing against his cheek, and he closes his eyes as if it’s too much to look at you right now.

“I don’t want to be left behind,” he admits, so quietly it’s almost swallowed by the rain hitting the window.

Your chest tightens, your throat suddenly thick with emotion. With both your hands still locked in his, you squeeze, trying to ground him, trying to reassure him in the only way he’ll let you. “You won’t be,” you whisper, and you mean it.

Caleb finally opens his eyes, searching yours as if testing the weight of your words.

"Prove it," he murmurs, his voice no longer commanding, no longer tainted with jealousy—just desperate. Just pleading. "Stay right here. Just… let me feel you.”

Letting go of your fingers, his arms envelop you in a way that feels both possessive and desperate. The heat of his breath fans over your neck as he leans in, lips brushing against the shell of your ear before trailing down to your shoulder.

You can feel it in the way his fingers dig into your skin, in the way his body molds so perfectly against yours as he spoons you from behind. One hand cups your breast, kneading, his thumb rolling over your nipple, sending small shocks of pleasure down your spine. The other dips lower, fingertips teasing over your sweet spot, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that match the lazy, deep rhythm of his thrusts inside you.

A shiver runs through you, not just from the pleasure but from the way he’s holding you—as if he’s afraid to let go.

“Caleb…” you breathe, his name slipping from your lips like a plea, a prayer.

“Please…” his voice is hoarse, strained, “keep—” he groans, his thrusts stuttering slightly before he regains control, “keep saying my name.”

His movements are slow but insistent, his lips never leaving your skin, as if grounding himself in you, as if needing the reassurance that you’re still here.

You moan again, letting his name tumble from your lips like a mantra, and you feel his breath hitch against your neck. His grip on you tightens, his thrusts pushing just a little deeper, his fingers pressing just a little harder.

But then, you feel it—his hesitation.

The momentary pause in his rhythm, the way his lips linger on your skin like he wants to say something but can’t. It’s in the way his fingers tremble slightly against you, the way his breath falters, the way his arms tighten around you just a little too much.

Your heart clenches, the realization settling in.

He’s scared.

Not of losing you physically, no—that’s not the kind of fear that grips him. It’s something deeper. The thought of someone else replacing him, someone else becoming the one you turn to, the one you whisper your secrets to, the one whose name you say when you need comfort.

The one who matters to you.

You shift slightly, pressing your body even closer against him as if trying to reassure him without words. Your hand moves to cover the one he has on your chest, fingers intertwining, holding him there.

“I’m here,” you whisper, barely audible, but he hears it. You know he does because his body stills for just a second before he exhales, a deep, shaky breath against your skin.

And then, he moves again—faster now, rougher, his hands leaving your breast and sweet spot to grip your hip, holding you in place as he thrusts harder.

As if trying to prove something.

As if trying to remind you that it’s his name you say.

That it’s his touch you crave.

That it’s him . Only him .

As your remaining hand slips off the tub's edge, it instinctively reaches behind you, cradling Caleb's head against your shoulder with a tender yet unyielding grip. The other arm remains steadfast, covering the arm Caleb has wrapped around your chest, holding him close as the warmth of the water and the intensity of the moment envelop you both. Your body begins to rock back and forth, a gentle yet insistent motion that helps Caleb deepen his penetration, the sensation sending shivers down you.

Caleb's teeth sink into your shoulder, the bite hard enough to make you hiss, a sharp intake of breath that mingles with the sound of water splashing around you. It's as if the deepwater waves are engulfing you both, pulling you under with their relentless rhythm. As Caleb leans back onto his side of the bathtub, his arms release their hold on your body, only to wrap around your neck, pulling you into a tight, almost suffocating embrace.

You find yourself practically sitting on his lap, your body tilted back against his shoulder, his arms tightening around your neck like a vice. Your hands grasp the edge of the tub once more, and you begin to bounce up and down, the motion sending waves of pleasure through your body. Caleb's whimper of "Fuck…" is music to your ears, a testament to the intensity of the moment.

Your moans are stifled by the chokehold, but you manage to gasp out a few words, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. One of Caleb's arms releases its grip on your neck, only to find its way to your sweet spot once more, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. You take control of the penetration, moving up and down with a frenzied intensity, while Caleb focuses on making you feel good, his other arm still wrapped tightly around your neck.

As he presses his lips against your ear, his breath hot and erratic, his words slurred with desire, "This is what I want," he groans. "I… want us to be one…" The sentiment sends a shiver down your spine, and you continue to bounce, going even faster, your body straining towards release.

Your words are barely intelligible, but Caleb finds your struggle seductive, "Ask again?" he whispers, his voice a low, husky growl.

You manage to gasp out a few words, "Tou…ch…me…" your saliva dripping from your lips as you point to your breasts, "Plea…se."

Caleb's arm releases the chokehold, massaging your breasts with a gentle yet insistent touch, sending you into a frenzy of pleasure. You turn your head, whispering sweet nothings into Caleb's ear, "Yours… Always yours…" The words seem to send him over the edge, and he sighs, his body relaxing into the moment.

As you continue to move, a final kiss lingers on Caleb’s lips before you shift forward, your hands plunging into the warm water, pressing against the smooth base of the tub. Your body arches instinctively, your back curving as if offering yourself to him, the motion a silent plea, a shared rhythm that neither of you can resist.

The water sways and splashes around you, cascading against the porcelain, a steady pulse in tune with your bodies. Your hips roll and press against his, the friction igniting every nerve between you. Caleb’s breath grows heavier, a low, husky whimper slipping from his lips as his fingers tighten around the tub’s edge.

You glance over your shoulder, catching sight of him—his head tilted back, his throat exposed, an image of surrender and control all at once. His eyes are barely open, dark lashes fluttering, yet within the narrow slits, a glimmer shines through. He’s watching you, devouring the way your body moves, the way your lips part as you stifle your sounds of pleasure.

There is something unspoken between you, something deeper than mere desire. It’s in the way his fingers twitch as if resisting the urge to reach for you again, in the way his breath hitches when you shift just right. The water, the heat, the tension—it all builds into something near unbearable, an intensity neither of you can escape.

You face forward again, and the sound of Caleb’s fingers tapping—no, clawing—at the tub’s edges fills the air, a silent display of restraint unraveling. The water ripples around you, heated waves splashing against your skin as you move with growing urgency, your hips rolling and pressing down in time with Caleb’s eager thrusts.

“Haa… ha…” you breathe, your voice breaking into the humid air, swallowed by the rising tension between you.

Then, a shift—your body twisting as you turn to face him, your legs spreading to straddle him completely. The moment your gaze locks onto his, you slow just enough to let him take in the sight of you. Your hands slide up your cheeks, fingers tangling into your damp hair, lifting it, teasing, as your hips begin to circle in slow, hypnotic rolls against his lap. Every movement is deliberate, each sway of your hips a silent dance meant for him alone.

Caleb watches, utterly mesmerized. His breath hitches, and his lips are slightly parted as if he is unable to find the words to describe what you’re doing to him. His fingers twitch at the edges of the tub before finally releasing their grip. Instead, his hands find your waist, strong fingers digging into your skin as he matches your rhythm. His own urgency is evident in the way he guides you—rougher, more desperate.

Your own hands glide down from your hair, trailing over your collarbone, down your chest, teasing, fondling, reveling in the sensation. Your damp strands of hair cling to your face, framing your half-lidded eyes, and through the veil of tangled locks, you see Caleb watching—spellbound, lost in you.

The water sloshes violently against the porcelain, the sound a mere backdrop to the intoxicating symphony of your mingled breaths and whispered gasps. Your fingers find the tub’s edge again, gripping for leverage as your movements become wilder, and faster. Caleb meets you with equal fervor, his hands holding you tighter, guiding you, urging you.

Your head tilts back, and your wet, unruly hair cascades over your shoulders, sticking to your skin in dark waves. The feeling builds, winding tightly inside you like a fire threatening to consume you both.

You lean back, letting the warm water envelop you, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes flutter shut, and your hands reach blindly through the rippling depths, searching for Caleb. The moment your fingers brush against his skin, he shifts, adjusting above you, the weight of his presence pressing closer.

Then, the pressure tightens—Caleb submerges, following you into the water’s embrace. The world above grows muted, distant, leaving only the sound of your racing heart and the rush of bubbles breaking between you. His lips find yours beneath the surface, soft yet insistent, melding against yours in an urgent kiss. His hands slide down your body, fingers finding your thigh and pulling you against him.

Even beneath the water, his movements are fluid, and precise—a rhythm that sends ripples through you both. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, anchoring yourself to him as your bodies move in perfect sync, the weightlessness making every sensation feel heightened, electric. The water shifts with your movements, a silent witness to your shared intensity.

Then, in one swift motion, Caleb lifts you, breaking the surface. The rush of air fills your lungs, but before you can fully recover, your back meets the cool porcelain with a forceful thud. The contrast of heat and cold, of water and open air, sends a jolt through your system.

Caleb towers over you, droplets streaming down his face, his breath heavy and erratic. His hands remain firm, one still gripping your thigh, the other braced against the tub. His body moves with reckless abandon, each motion deep, and relentless. Water sloshes over the edge, cascading onto the floor, forgotten.

His grunts mix with ragged breaths, his voice breaking through the sound of splashing water. Your gasps mirror his, the tension between you coiling tighter with every movement. Every sensation—his touch, his breath, the warmth of his body against yours—feels amplified, consuming.

His fingers tighten their hold, his pace unrelenting, pulling you both toward the inevitable, where words no longer matter—only feeling, only this.

Caleb shifts, guiding your legs over the edge of the tub, the cool porcelain a stark contrast against your heated skin. A shiver of anticipation courses through you, a delicious tension coiling in your stomach. His hands planted firmly on the tub’s rim, framing your face, caging you beneath him. You tilt your head back, searching his eyes—those dark, smoldering depths that drink you in like you’re something sacred.

Droplets of water fall from his damp hair, landing softly against your skin and trickling down like whispers of rain. The heat of his breath fans against your lips as he leans in closer, his voice hushed yet commanding.

“Look at you…” His tone is rich and reverent. “You’re breathtaking.”

Your breath hitches, your fingers tightening around his arms. Then his lips crash against yours—hungry, unyielding as if he’s trying to claim every unspoken word between you. The kiss deepens, tongues meeting in a slow, intoxicating dance. Your fingers weave into his wet hair, pulling him closer, savoring the taste of him—faint traces of warmth and something undeniably his.

Then, with one swift movement, he shifts, pressing deeper, and a strangled gasp slips from your lips. The sensation is overwhelming, your body trembling beneath him. He swallows your moan, his own breath stuttering as he holds still for a moment as if grounding himself in the way you fit so perfectly beneath him.

Your nails press into his skin, trailing down his back, desperate for something to hold onto. Caleb’s forehead presses to yours, his voice a shaky whisper against your lips.

“Tell me…” His breath is ragged, his body taut with restraint. “Tell me you feel this too.”

Your voice is barely more than a whimper. “I feel everything…”

He groans, his grip tightening, his body responding with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips. You arch into him, your breaths coming in gasps, your senses drowning in the heat, the sound of water sloshing around you, the deep timbre of his voice breaking between heavy breaths.

“Say my name,” Caleb murmurs against your skin, his lips trailing along your jaw, down to your pulse point, where his tongue flicks, teasing.

“Caleb…” You breathe it like a prayer.

His lips curve into a knowing smile, his eyes dark with something unspoken, something primal.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, his hands gripping your waist, his movements deep, slow, deliberate. The way he looks at you—like you are the only thing in the world—sends warmth flooding through your chest.

“My world… my life,” your voice is soft, yet resolute, your fingertips tracing the contours of his damp skin. “It includes you.”

Caleb stills. A breath catches in his throat, his body rigid as your words sink in. For a moment, the possessiveness, and the urgency, all dissolve into nothing. What remains is something raw—something unguarded. His lips find yours again, but this time, the kiss is different. It’s not hungry. It’s not desperate. It’s deep, steady, a silent confession. A kiss of understanding, of devotion.

It’s a kiss of acceptance.

His hands, once gripping with unrelenting fervor, now hold you like you’re something fragile, something irreplaceable. He’s always claimed you as his, but now, in this moment, he understands—he is yours just as much. There is no fear of loss, no silent battle for reassurance. He is here. He is loved. And he finally believes it.

“I’m sorry…” His voice is breathless, a whisper against your lips, though his body continues to move—slow, as if savoring every second.

You respond with a soft hum, your body shuddering against him. The peak of your pleasure had passed moments ago, but you hold on, staying with him, letting him embrace this moment fully. Your forehead rests against his shoulder, your breath warm against his neck, feeling the rapid pulse beneath his skin.

“Nngh…” His breath stutters, a quiet whimper slipping from his lips as his body tenses, shuddering against yours.

And then, release.

His grip tightens, his arms pulling you impossibly closer as he finally lets go, his breath heavy, tangled with yours. There is no rush to part, no need for words. Only the quiet rise and fall of your chests, the lingering warmth between you, and the unspoken promise sealed between your lips.

Caleb shifts, his movements slow and tender as he guides your bodies into a new position—his back resting against the cool porcelain while you lay against him, your body melting into his warmth. His arms encircle you, securing you against his chest, your head finding solace on his shoulder.

His breath is still uneven, lingering in the space between you, but he presses soft kisses along your shoulder as if grounding himself in your presence. Each press of his lips is a silent whisper, a quiet confession.

You reach for his right hand, tracing the calloused ridges of his fingers before gently opening his palm. Lifting it toward the window, you slide your hand beneath his, pressing your fingers together—lining them up, feeling the contrast, the fit. His fingers move first, locking with yours, holding tight. Then, without hesitation, he pulls your joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of your hand with a reverence that makes your chest tighten.

A beat of silence.

“I…” His voice is quiet, as if the words have been sitting on his tongue for too long. “I love you.”

You don’t respond right away. Not because you don’t feel the same, but because the weight of his words lingers, filling the space between you like something sacred.

He exhales, then presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “I love you,” he repeats, more certain this time.

You smile faintly, tilting your head against him. “I know.”

A short laugh escapes him, but then he grows serious again. His grip on your hand tightens, his lips hovering close to your ear.

“No… I love you a little more than you realize.”

The words settle deep in your chest, warmer than the water surrounding you. And in his hold, in the quiet of this moment, you believe him.

You don’t speak, but the way you squeeze his hand, the way your fingers stay laced between his, tells him everything.

The room is quiet now, save for the faint dripping of water from the edges of the tub, and the slow rise and fall of your breaths. Caleb lets out a deep sigh, his chin resting against your damp hair, his arms wrapped around you as if afraid to let go.

Outside the window, the world feels distant—lightening flickering, the candle casting a soft glow across the bathroom. But here, in this small, water-kissed space, nothing else matters.

His thumb brushes over your knuckles absentmindedly, memorizing every dip and ridge of your skin. You tilt your head slightly, your lips barely grazing his jaw before whispering, “I know… and I love you, too.”

Caleb doesn’t speak, but you feel it—the way his arms tighten around you, the way his breath stutters for just a moment, as if those words unraveled something deep within him.

Neither of you move. There’s no need to.

Because here, at this moment, tangled in warmth, wrapped in whispered confessions and lingering touches—this is everything.

And neither of you would change a thing.

[vaspider]

Recently you reblogged a post about the insufferable "I'm SO realistic!" pretensions of GRRM and how A Song of Ice and Fire is, in fact, highly unrealistic. This got me into A Collection of Unmitigated Pedantry, a delightful treasure trove of a site that will no doubt greatly improve my own attempts at writing at least semi-realistic fantasy. (Although unlike GRRM, I will admit upfront that I will likely make many errors, because worldbuilding is hard.)

I am curious, though, after reading through that post and ACOUP, if you have any recommendations for fantasy that is realistic? Not in the sense of "historically accurate to a specific time period", but just in the sense of "the worldbuilding doesn't fall apart if you apply logic, science or too much thought to it" and "people/populations react in ways that make sense/feel realistic to events within the book(s)". You strike me as someone who either knows some good books in that vein or knows people who know. I'm sort of a fantasy newbie in that my only reading in the genre has been some GRRM and all of Lord of the Rings and that's it, so I'm looking for more to read. But I keep getting warned by people that there's a lot of bad fantasy out there, which I'd rather avoid given my limited free time and crowded schedule.

Sorry if this ask is rambly. I'd blame my ADHD for making me go on too long but honestly most of my family is like this. I suspect we were all cursed in some niche way, to start off interesting and then go on too long.

P.S. On a totally unrelated note, because va can be a prefix to titles in Karakalpak and I did a paper on the language once, I have been reading your name as, basically, The Honorable Spider and it only occurred to me as I was typing this that it probably stands for Virginia or something. (But I fully plan on continuing to think 'The Honorable Spider' because that's just funnier and makes me imagine a spider that is also a judge and wears a robe and wig.)

I honestly don't care about realism in fantasy at all. I just hate GRRM's Hobbesian grimdarque wankery.

[affluent-havoc]

Golden Girl

[perhaps-mr-collins-has-a-cousin]

Hello praying people, I'm not doing well and would really appreciate your prayers right now <3

[katimanki]

I guess I'll be doing it! Fairytale dresses 2.0 will be here this spring/summer💐🌸🌻

Feel free to send suggestions/requests of Stranger Things girlies and dresses✨️

Glee Fairytale Dresses 2021

I do have dresses picked out for the main ST girlies, most of them aren't set in stone until I start to draw them! I had trouble picking them so suggestions are very welcome🙏🏻 El, Max, Robin, Nancy and Erica take 5/9 dresses, and I forgot about most of the side characters so I don't think I have the right amount to do them all so please help??.

I thought about drawing Karen and Joyce, then Karen reminded me of Holly and that would be so cute but young children are hard to draw. I completely forgot about Chrissy, Vickie, Barb and Suzie, the only side character girlies I remebered were Heather and Angela💀. That's 9 characters that'd have to fight for 4 dresses so I don't know what I'm doing, who should be left out? Or do I just choose 5 more dressed to do all 14 girls?? Or is there more I'm forgetting about😭

[lucinfernos]

CONTENT CREATOR ARCANE AU INTRODUCTIONS ⭐

finally put together this handy dandy info sheet for your ease of access!

Jayce a.k.a. ManOfProgress (benevolently referred to as MOP by his fans) — 31 years old, he/him, bisexual trans man, Mexican-Brazilian — Started content creation in 2020 as a hobby to battle the pandemic boredom but blew up and decided to make it his full-time gig — Streams games and goofballery on Twitch [623k followers] and posts & streams more personal and unrelated content on YouTube [102k subscribers] — Found Viktor’s channel ~6 months before they started talking and feels very comforted by his voice; sleeps to his videos every night and puts one on whenever he’s anxious or angry — Got into a bad car accident as a child that was fatal to his father and left him with chronic pain on his left leg; now wears a knee brace and a calf compress periodically

Viktor a.k.a. TheMachineHerald — 32 years old, he/him, gay trans man, Czech-Polish — Was unable to leave the house during the peak of the pandemic and found joy and inspiration from Jayce’s content, and chose to start dabbling in content creation in 2022 — Creates very technically advanced and meticulously crafted ASMR videos; usually fully focuses on the mechanical sounds and tech aesthetic but lately has been brancing out more [12,3k subscribers before he gets in kahoots with Jayce] — Started showing his face only around the time when Jayce started watching him and is a bit irritated over the boost in popularity it granted him — Has many health problems, including scoliosis and rheumatoid arthritis (which has caused lung scarring and severe cartilage damage to his right leg and spine from when he was younger and could not access the necessary care to get the inflammation in control)

Mel a.k.a. Melicious (to this day her fans argue whether this is a reference to delicious or malicious) — 33 years old, she/her, bisexual; Jayce’s ex-girlfriend, African-American w/ Algerian roots — Was with Jayce during her time in Piltover but they made the mutual decision to part ways when she was accepted into an art school in London; are still close friends — Made very high-quality weekly diary-style vlogs, often related to art [837k subscribers]. Went on a semi-hiatus after moving but is active on other social medias like Instagram [1,4 million followers]

Jinx a.k.a. GETJINXED — 19 years old, she/they, agender aroace; in a queerplatonic relationship with Ekko, American — Gained popularity on TikTok and later on Twitch when people realized she’s the sister Vi is always complaining about; has no niche and does literally anything she wants to do that day, which usually has to do with either art or engineering [166k followers on Twitch, 850k on TikTok] — Working on an independent music career on the side with their debut single Get Jinxed going viral on TikTok — Lost her finger ON STREAM when working on an art installation, the clip has millions of views

Ekko a.k.a. The_Boy_Savior — 20 years old, he/any, probably nonbinary but he has a job so he doesn’t care abt that rn, bi & asexual; in a queerplatonic relationship with Jinx, African-American — Creates well-researched and thought-provoking video essays about worldwide issues, especially dedicated to the health of the planet and its people [317k subscribers] — Surprised everyone by appearing in one of Jinx’s tiktoks because nobody knew they knew each other let alone that they were in a QPR — Frequently holds fundraisers and has done a lot of good for his community

Caitlyn a.k.a. KillshotKiramman — 23 years old, she/her, lesbian; Vi’s girlfriend and Jayce’s best friend, Chinese-British — Makes videos about weapons (mostly guns and shooting) [176k subscribers] and plays games on her Twitch [29k followers] — Moderates Jayce and Vi’s streams, and completely destroys both of them at FPS games — Had a gun misfiring accident which left her blind in her left eye

Violet a.k.a. vistandsforvideogames — 24 years old, any pronouns, gender-apathetic (call her whatever you like) lesbian; Caitlyn’s partner, American — Gamer on Twitch, but also shares about her side job as a boxer [212k followers] — Sometimes mods for Jayce but mainly just shows up to kick his ass in Mortal Kombat and exude chaotic energy

[martiansodas-blog]

too pretty to think.

when art started to slip, it almost felt like falling asleep…

a. donaldson x reader

word count: 2,216

contents: dumbification, body worship, face sitting, multiple orgasms, cuming untouched, brief mommy kink, subspace, nicknames and pet names, this is freak nasty.

Xx

The first time 

You and Art have been going steady for 6 months and you loved every second of it. the two of you mostly hung out at your place, it's a tad cleaner than his dorm and he never bothered with things like decorations. It was a haven for the both of you. So when your Blackberry buzzed with a message asking,

“r u home?” 

It was hardly out of the ordinary.

“yeah. just changed clothes”

“can i come over?”

“of course”

Donaldson is a man who never knows when to quit. Let's rephrase: He’ll only quit when instructed to. 

He treats his body like a machine. He eats what his nutritionist tells him to, he pushes his body to the limit, and he rarely turns in a paper late. 

When you opened your front door your boyfriend was in chaotic ruins. His eyes were puffy and his cheeks were stained. He stared at the floor with his calloused hands in his pockets.

“Oh my gosh, what happened?? What’s wrong?”

Your tone had urgency as you ushered him inside. Once the door is closed he pulls you in for a hug. You don’t dare speak, just hug back. He’ll tell you when he’s ready. 

It’s obvious he’s trying to hold himself together, but stroking his back caused him to break.

“Aw, baby,” 

You sway him from side to side. 

“Shh, it’s ok. I’m here.”

After a few minutes, Art regained control of his breathing. You put him at arm's length—your voice just above a whisper. 

“Would you like to come lay down with me? We don’t have to talk about it if you don't want to, let's just get you comfortable.”

Art sniffles and nods his head—your poor baby. 

You held his hand and led the way to your room. You sat on your bed with your back against the wall so he could lay between your legs. He often takes this position when you guys are watching movies so it will add a level of comfort for him. 

Art takes some deep breaths as you run your nails through his hair. 

“We got a new coach and he- he’s so intense. I don’t know. I’ve been berated by coaches since I was 13. Why the hell is this one affecting me differently?” 

You twist one of his curls in your fingers. 

“Everything's just so much right now. Schoolwork, post-graduation plans, sponsorships… There's so much going on all the time. I- I can’t do it.” 

Your heart broke for him. 

“I’m so sorry, Artie. I wish I could take it all away from you.”

You rubbed his arms and back for who knows how long. It could have been hours. You didn’t care. You’d cancel your week's agenda if that’s what he needed. You weren’t getting up until he felt better. 

You analyzed his words.

“It’s not that you’re unable to make decisions, and it’s not that you make bad decisions. It’s just that decisions are constant unrelenting work… is that an accurate assessment?”

He nodded and sighed into your shirt like you were the one person in the world who understood him. 

“...And a good boy like you should never have to work.” 

Art froze. 

Well, that’s new. 

You decided to test the waters further and put on your most sultry voice. 

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll think for you.” 

He let out a sound that can only be described as a mewl. His body curled into a semi-circle. 

You swept some hair out of his eyes, they seemed to get droopier.

I don't know what exactly is transpiring he’s responding to it.

“Let your thoughts go. You don’t need them.” 

Eyes are fully closed now.

“Can you unclench your jaw for me? That’s it.”

He does as he's told, falling deeper into whatever hollow you're creating. He bites back a smile but his blush is evident. So easy to get him to blush. One of his cutest attributes.

Next step is Moving your handsome boy to lay on his stomach so you can rub his shoulders. You hear him sigh while the tension is worked out of his muscles and watch him relax under your hands. 

Walking him through some deep breaths while you place dozens of soft, light kisses on his neck. 

You want to make him understand what a privilege it is to have him.

Rubbing his thighs and calves, slowly melting away the stress of the day. Kisses on the backs of his knees while he laughs and tells you to stop that and that it tickles.

Helping him turn over to lie on his back and climbing carefully on top to straddle him.

You toy with the hem of his shirt. 

“Can I take this off?”

He looks up at you. mouth open and nods. 

It causes you to giggle. 

“Thank you.” 

Once that’s out of the way your hands wander up to his chest while trailing more impossibly light kisses down his Adam's apple. Massaging his chest, squeezing and grabbing and just feeling his skin. 

Kissing his collarbones, trailing your tongue along the dip where they meet under his neck. Slowly working that boy up with teasing touches that only get more and more unbearable.

Slowly returning to his lips to kiss him again while you reach down to trail your fingertips over his cock. He pants and whines so sweetly into your mouth while you play with his cock. You're not even trying to make him cum-- not yet. 

I could do this all day. 

Letting him drift in a fuzzy-headed space while you work your fingers soft and slow over his pants. Doesn't need to worry about anything but your hands on his body. You're right here to keep him safe and make him feel good.

“There's nothing I love more than watching my brilliant, polite, well-spoken boyfriend turn mindless.” 

Art whined and bucked his hips up to meet your hand.

“I need to be in you so bad. Please.”

Who are you to refuse him?

“Don't worry baby, I’ll give you what you want.” 

You slid off him and he reached for you, like he couldn’t stand you being an inch away for any amount of time. You chuckled and took off your bottoms and underwear, he copied. 

You hopped back on top of him, which made him break out into a smile. His girl was about to take care of him. 

You grabbed his cock and started stroking him. 

“I don’t know if I’m wet enough, Artie.”

“Sitonmyface.” He begged all in one breath. 

You bit your lip so as not to laugh at him. It wasn’t in a mean way, no no! He was just so excited about it. It’s adorable and flattering all at the same time.

“Are you sure? We’ve never done that before.”

We haven’t done a lot of this before. 

He shamelessly nodded. Grabbing your waist with both hands and shifting your body up before you could protest. 

“I don’t want to crush you.”

At this point, he was panting. A dog seconds away from getting a treat. 

“You won’t.” 

Art has eaten you out before, and it’s been wonderful. But this? This is a new kind of ecstasy. 

His tongue reaches new trenches. 

And that fucking nose. It bumped your clit every time. You were gasping and making noises you didn’t know were possible. His mouth is memorizing your folds. He's getting off on your arousal.  His tip is red and hurting, but can barely care when a taste crafted just for him is on his lips. 

“Shit. Just like that.” 

Your thighs trapped his face, your breath hitched with every thrust, and your walls clenched around his tongue. 

“Oh god, oh god,” 

Truthfully, Art didn't know which of you came first. 

The only thing he knew was your body. 

You shuffled down and kissed all over his face which was covered in your release. 

“You made mommy feel so good.”

He smiled up at you. He was so proud that he could do that for you. Like it was his purpose in life. And oh did he love that nickname. It made him feel all soft, like when you recall a fond memory. 

“Do you want Mommy to sit on your cock?” 

He whimpered and nodded. 

You lined yourself up with him and sank. It was so easy due to both of your juices, you had to concentrate on lowering slowly so he didn’t bottom out too fast. 

The two of you moaned in unison. It was almost tantric. Even though the focus here is on Art, it’s impossible not to feel the same pleasure. It wasn’t just your sexualities that were aligned but your souls. The love you felt for each other was palpable. 

It didn’t take long for him to bottom out. But it wasn’t enough. You ground your hips into him, causing his voice to raise an octave. 

“Oh fuck. Hnnn! Fuck, feels so good, please.”

He was babbling nonsense, unable to create cohesive thoughts or keep any sounds in. 

You remove his hands clutching the sheets and replace them with your own. To bring him back to earth. 

When he couldn’t get enough he bucked his hips up into yours. Moving aimlessly, mindlessly. You held his hips down to the mattress and bounced on his dick. The sounds of his cock hitting your weeping entrance were insanely beautiful and sinful to listen to. 

“Such a good boy.” 

His dick jumped inside of you at that. Seemingly of its own volition. 

You shifted to pepper kisses on his jawline. The new position forced his cock to rub all kinds of new places. You nearly collapsed onto him from the shock. Heavy exhales leave your mouth. Your pussy suffocates his cock. 

“My good boy. Just a dumb little thing for me to use isn't that right.”

Art came on the spot. No warning. His skin flushed and curls were damp on his forehead. Words were coiled at his throat, coming out as broken sobs, wanting more. 

You rode him until it was clear he'd finished. 

“Did you cum for me, baby?”

“Yes. I'm sorry I should’ve said something I couldn't help it. Felt too good, I didn’t -“

“Shh sweetheart, you did nothing wrong. You can cum in me as many times as you like. That's what I’m here for. That’s what this,” you clenched around him, “is for.” 

“Fuck.” his breath quivering. He arched his back, sensitive little thing. 

“I love it when you spill yourself into me. it’s so warm in here now.” 

You placed his hand on your lower stomach, your womb. 

“Can we go again please?”

“Are you sure? I don't want to push you.”

He shuffled so you were both sitting up. causing you to gasp. His erection never left, and it’s ever so prevalent right now. 

“Please! Wanna keep myself buried here forever.” 

It was hard to remain the level-headed one after hearing that. 

“You make me so wet when you say that, Artie.” 

There's drool coming from his mouth as he watches you talk. Nothing behind those eyes.

“So wet and needy.” 

You soften your voice, and when you talk it’s into his mouth. 

“You gonna let me take you again?”

He groaned and nodded, then ferociously kissed you. He wrapped his strong arms around your torso and immediately disliked how much fabric was between the two of you. He ripped your t-shirt and sports bra off in nearly one motion. Sighing when he felt skin on skin.

“I’m going to play with you until there's nothing in that head except my name.”

And you did. You fucked him till his brain turned to mush. Till it felt so good he thought he was going crazy, till he couldn’t even hear how loud he was being. Just blissed out being pulled back into your cunt. 

What an honor, to have such an obedient, adoring boy like him. 

You let him stay like that, floaty and sweet until he fell asleep to whispered praises. 

“My good boy. You did such a good job for me.”

A kiss to his forehead. 

“You know I love you so much.”

Tucked under the covers.

“So good for me, honey. You're okay. I'm proud of you. You're all mine, and I'm all yours.”

You raked your nails along his back.

“Relax, It'll all be there for you tomorrow. But for right now, all you need to be is my good, sweet boy. And you are.”

You moved off the bed which concerned Art. 

“Are you leaving?” 

He looked like he could cry. You cradled his face. 

“No baby boy, of course not. I’m only getting you some water. I’ll be right back” 

You spoke to him like a child bedridden with a cold. It was clear the comedown was something intense and never experienced before. He needed you next to him right now.

“Alright lovely, I know you’re tired but have a few drinks of this for me.”

You guided the water bottle into his mouth till you were satisfied with the amount he got in his system. 

“Rest now. I’ll cuddle you.” 

The blonde fell asleep immediately in your embrace and you hoped it wouldn't be the last time you took his thoughts away.

[paradlselost]

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄

black noir x female reader

⎨ 𝐀𝐍 ⎬ this is set in SEASON FOUR so obvious spoilers ahead . this is just a drabble , i will post more about black noir in the future but i really needed to get a smut out for my own sanity 🙏 i need both earving and noir II . also that’s me under the table with him (:<

⎨ 𝐂𝐖 ⎬ second person point of view , mentions of mourning , straight up smut : p in v , unprotected sex , semi - public sex , zero pullout game .

How could he explain it to anyone who would happen to walk in? That it was a mistake? A heat-of-the-moment interaction? It certainly didn’t feel like an accident; the way you gripped his dick like it was a lifeline. Maybe in this moment it was, truthfully, it felt like the only thing keeping you grounded to this earth.

The once cool glass table below you rocked back and forth as if uncertain on the legs that held it up. At some point you would be worried it would break below your combined weight; but the mushroom-like head of his cock slamming back into a certain bundle of nerves drained every thought from your mind.

Visitation was extremely limited thanks to everything Homelander and Sage were doing, but a special exception had been made for you. Earvings closest friend, his unrequited love come to gather some semblance of closure from the new person under the mask. Wearing his suit as if years of unrelenting loyalty to Vought was dumbed down to him being a character any actor could play.

Maybe it was stupid to think otherwise, to hope there would be any kind of memorial for the man you had loved so dearly; how could everyone move on so fast from someone who had been there for so long? It wasn’t fair; but maybe his memory was better off out of your mind - out of pain and suffering and with his friends for eternity. Whatever eternity looked like.

New Noir may be a bit clueless when it comes to his role, but he’s not stupid. He could pick up on the way you avoided looking at his mask at first or how you apologized under your breath every time your hand brushed his armor. You were the best lead he had to figure out how to play this character he was thrown into. Not for a second did he believe his predecessor was only a brain dead maniac.

And he could be wrong, but he had a feeling his hunch of Earving loving you back was true. How could he not? You were gorgeous, head tilted back and jaw slack, knuckles turning white from your grip on the other side of the table. He didn’t remove his mask, only the cup that covered his crotch was off. He had to be acquainted with that area of the suit as boners against the covering hurt most of the time, and taking off the suit to get off in a bathroom stall was far too difficult.

Closure, what a funny word for what was happening. Maybe you could imagine it was Earving behind you, pounding against your cunt and creating those sweet wet sounds that vibrated through the room; but at this point nothing but the rhythm of his cock slipping in and out of you at such a pace could stay on your mind.

The cameras watched you two, no doubt, it was the meeting room after all. Your warm breath and the sweat that trickled down your form had created a slight fog against the once cool desk, a surface slippery enough to make him grab your hips to keep you in position. Hard, like he didn’t know his own strength, but you wouldn’t mind the bruises in the shape of his gloves, would you?

Cock-drunk, fucked stupid but still smart enough to feel the stutter of his hips and the throb of his dick inside of you. Fantasies of Earving often ended in him fucking his cum that leaked out of you back in, but you were suddenly acutely aware that this wasn’t him. You didn’t know if he was sterile; an important question you had accidentally skipped right over.

“Wait wait-“

Too little too late. Just as you had suppressed your eyes from rolling back into your head for the millionth time; he let out a groan. Grabbing your hips to stay impossibly close to you and pushing inside as far as possible, letting himself paint the walls of your cunt with his cum.

Panting, a gloved hand traveled from your hips to the very front of your thighs. His body pressed against you; keeping you on the table as he caught his breath - mindlessly playing with your clit, as if it was second nature. After a moment or two he seemed to realize what he did; you could hear him hiss softly from behind you, embarrassed.

“Oooh fuck - I’m sorry.”

[wbtsan]

SEX BUDDIES͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏. ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏J.YUNHO

synopsis. ever since yunho gave you an idea of being sex buddies, you couldn't really say no to him. considering the fact that he's been your longtime crush for ages, he surely wouldn't notice. right?

au. student!yunho x student!female!reader | tags. unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it), make out session, sexual content, semi-public sex, dirty talk, praising, mentions of y/n, nicknames (princess, baby etc) | rating. mature | wc. 680+

authors note. i want to go back to the time where i first watched the 'wake up' performance for the first time because WHAT THE FUCK?? who expected them to do this shit? definitely not me!!

networks. @newworldnet

-

"so is that a yes?" yunho questions. yunho just asked you to become his 'sex buddy' while you're here blankly staring at him, wondering what he just said. "hello? earth to y/n?" he says as he waves his hand infront of your eyes. "huh? what? yeah! sorry my bad." you say, getting yourself out of your daydreaming. "is that a yes to become my sex buddy?" yunho once again questions. "um, yeah sure. let's just take it slow though alright?" you say. its your first time actually having sex, but you just wouldn't get the courage to actually tell him. you thought that if you told him, he would distance himself from you. hopefully this wouldn't happen, right?

-

out of all the places, you had to be in a bathroom stall. making out with yunho. how? you guys were happily shopping, looking in a shopping store for new outfits when all of a sudden, yunho just decides to whisper in your ear, "im feeling really horny princess. let's stop the shopping for a bit, deal?" he says, smirking. your face instantly turns red. "yunho! not in public!" you whisper-yelled, hitting his shoulder. "no one's gotta know about it. we'll be quick." yunho whispers. you sigh, accepting defeat and following him to one of the closest bathrooms.

-

"mmm. you're fucking delicious, like sweet, ripe peaches. you're so wet and im going to lap up every.single.fucking drop." yunho's hands pushed into her hair without her even telling him too. you wanted his on mouth on yours, but you wanted to get to taste him too. oh boy, his tongue pressed against your pink, wet pussy in just the right way. "oh yunnie, yes." your legs wobbled a little as he pushed you higher and higher. then they outright shook. another minute of having him lick and suck and her knees were going to give out under you. they'd end up as a pile on the floor. you gripped yunho's hair tight and tried to hang on. you might have too if if he hadn't made that damn sexy low growling sound. hearing yunho actually enjoy going down on you was more than you could handle. you threw your head back on the door of the stall and groaned through your orgasm, your legs giving out and your body went into overload. luckily, you didn't end up on the floor as yunho catcher you swiftly, holding onto you. "don't worry, i got you."

the unrelenting stretch drove the oxygen from your lungs, and your body involuntarily bucked and twisted as you struggle to accommodate him. "please.." you weren't sure whether you were either begging him to stop or make you come. both. neither. it didn't matter. all you knew was you craved something only he could give and you desperately hoped yunho could figure it out on his own because you could barely do something, not even remember your name because of how thick his dick was. yunho gripped your thighs to hold you in place while he withdrew. slowly, until just the tip of his cock was inside you. then he thrusts back in. deeper. faster. harder. any remaining coherence shattered as he fucked you against the door with so much force it rattled your bones.

everything blurred. your nails dug into his shoulders as squeals and whimpers poured out of you, mingling with yunho's grunts and the definitely not child friendly clapping. your entire body was on sensory overload. no matter how much you took, it wasn't enough. more. you need more. yunho's teeth grazed against your neck. "still think im boring?" his taunt whispered into your ear with a particularly savage thrust. white-hot sensation ripped through you. tears leaking from your eyes, and you bucked like an unbroken filly, wild animal. his groans fill the stall as his hot white cum fills you up. "yeah, take all that cum baby. you better keep it in you, got it?" he says, chuckling softly before removing himself from under you. "alright, hurry up. we need to continue shopping. we'll continue this later, alright?"

[rootedinrevisions]

Kinktober 2024: Day 30

CHARACTER: Tyler Owens

KINK: Car Sex (Truck Sex)

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. SMUT (biting, p in v sex, semi in public/where you could get caught)

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists or be tagged for a specific character please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Twisters (Mostly Tyler right now, but possibly others soon)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

The low rumble of the truck as you cruise along the highway is oddly comforting, blending with the soft tunes of 90s country coming through the radio. Tyler drums his fingers lightly on the steering wheel, one arm stretched casually along the top, his hand dangerously close to where you’re sitting. His confidence is effortless—grounded, but with a spark of mischief in his eyes whenever he glances your way. After getting caught in that rainstorm, he’d shot you a grin and shrugged it off, wet t-shirt and all. But it had left you flustered, noticing every inch of him in ways you usually tried to keep to yourself.

“So,” he starts, breaking the comfortable silence. “Worth the detour for that burger, huh?”

You let out a laugh, grateful for the chance to ease some of the tension building between you two. “Absolutely. I think I would’ve wasted away if we’d just gone straight back.”

He chuckles, glancing at you briefly before returning his eyes to the road. The wet fabric of his t-shirt clings to him as if daring you not to look, showing off the muscle in his shoulders, the veins on his forearms.

“You okay over there?” he asks, his voice teasing but warm. The mischievous look in Tyler's eyes is unmistakable, even if he’s trying to keep his focus on the road. 

But then you decide two can play this game. Your lips curve into a smirk before you adjust in your seat, letting yourself have a little more room to lean over the console.

When your hand first rests on his knee, he seems amused, even relaxed, but when your fingers start to move upward, you notice his jaw tense slightly, and his grip on the steering wheel tightens. 

The subtle power in his reaction emboldens you, and you can’t help but push things just a little further.

Your fingers trail over his thigh, brushing the front of his jeans. You feel him tense under your touch, his breath catching slightly, and then you catch the slight shake of his head, paired with a low chuckle.

He clears his throat. "Now, just what do you think you're up to?" His voice is low, rougher than before, laced with both amusement and a touch of restraint. You glance up, meeting his gaze, feigning innocence with a small shrug.

"Up to?" you say, keeping your voice as light as possible. "I'm just sitting here. What do you think I’m doing?"

Tyler’s hand, still resting over yours, gives another squeeze, this time firmer, his thumb tracing over your knuckles.

“I think,” he says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “you know exactly what you're doing.” He releases his hand from yours just long enough to turn up the music, using it as an excuse to adjust his posture—maybe to regain a bit of control.

You flash him a playful smile. "Oh, come on, Tyler. I thought you liked it when I kept you on your toes."

His laugh is warm, a little breathy. “Trust me, I do.” He pauses, his eyes cutting over to you with a look that’s both soft and intense. “Just not when I’m driving, sweetheart.”

The growl that escapes Tyler’s lips is low and guttural as you press kisses into his neck, your teeth grazing the sensitive spots you know drive him wild. His breaths come shorter, more strained, and he shifts in his seat, trying to focus on the road as you continue your teasing, unrelenting.

“Baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with warning, “if you don’t stop, I swear…” But even as he says it, his hips move up instinctively to meet the pressure of your hand. He’s torn between maintaining control and giving in, and the internal struggle shows in every flex of his jaw, every grip of his hands as he tries to hold on.

You lean up, letting your breath brush against his ear. “Relax, Tyler. I trust you,” you whisper, your voice teasing, knowing full well that your words make it even harder for him to resist.

With a low curse, he tries once more, his tone nearly pleading, “Honey, you’re gonna make us crash.” But even as he says it, his body betrays him, pressing into your hand with increasing urgency. His breath hitches as you run your fingers along the front of his jeans again, this time applying more pressure. His body leans into yours, the tension nearly vibrating between you.

He finally pulls his hand from the wheel just long enough to grab your wrist, halting your movements. 

"Alright," he says, a slight tremor in his voice, eyes still locked forward, his grip firm but full of unspoken promise. “You’re going to pay for that when we get back.”

You then hear Tyler and sigh and curse under his breath as he glances at the rearview mirror. You watch him start to slow the truck and pull over to the shoulder of the highway. You glance through the back window and see the unmistakable red and blue lights of a police officer.

The moment Tyler pulls the truck over, the tension shifts from playful to cautious. You can see the way his expression tightens as he watches the officer approach the window. The flashing red and blue lights reflect off the dashboard, casting a pulsing glow that heightens the mood in the cab.

“Just stay calm,” you murmur, trying to reassure him as you lean back in your seat, your heart still racing from your earlier teasing. Tyler nods, his jaw set as he rolls down the window, the humid air rushing in, mingled with the scent of rain.

The officer bends slightly to peer into the cab, his demeanor professional but relaxed. “Evening, sir. I need to see your license and registration.”

Tyler fumbles with the glove compartment, glancing nervously at you as he retrieves the documents. You pass them to him, your fingers brushing against his in a moment that feels all too intimate given the circumstances. He hands the documents out the window, maintaining eye contact with the officer.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?” the officer asks, his voice steady as he inspects the papers.

“Um, I’m guessing it’s because I was speeding?” Tyler replies, a hint of a nervous chuckle in his tone. You can see the flush creeping up his neck as the officer raises an eyebrow.

“You were weaving a bit too, which is why I stopped you. Have you been drinking tonight?”

Tyler shakes his head vigorously. “No, sir. Not at all. Just trying to get back to the motel before that storm hits.” He gestures vaguely toward the darkening sky, which is heavy with rain clouds.

The officer narrows his eyes, clearly unconvinced. “You’ve been speeding and weaving for several miles. I’d like to know what really happened back there. You weren't on your phone were you?”

You shift in your seat, biting your lip to suppress a grin at Tyler’s awkwardness. He looks over at you for a split second, searching for inspiration, then takes a deep breath, his confidence wavering slightly.

“Honestly, I was just trying to outrun the storm,” he continues, though it sounds more like a half-hearted excuse than a real explanation. “I thought I could make it to the motel before it hit.”

The officer studies him, and you can sense the moment he sees through the facade. “You realize that speeding is dangerous, especially in this weather?”

Tyler nods, his expression earnest. “I know, I know. I didn’t mean to—I just got caught up in the moment. This one here’s a little afraid of storms. I was just trying to get her back to the hotel, and I didn’t realize how fast I was going.”

There’s a slight pause as the officer glances between Tyler and you. You can see the wheels turning in his mind as he assesses the situation, perhaps weighing whether to let Tyler off with a warning or to issue a ticket.

“Alright, hang tight for a minute,” the officer finally says, stepping back to his patrol car.

Tyler sinks back into his seat, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Well, that went better than expected,” he mutters, though the humor in his voice is overshadowed by the unease lingering in the air.

You watch him closely, noticing how the blush on his cheeks deepens as he tries to make light of the situation. “You could’ve just told him we were getting carried away in the truck,” you tease.

Tyler shoots you a look, half-grinning. “And risk getting us both in trouble? No thanks.”

A few tense minutes pass before the officer returns, a speeding ticket in hand. “Here you go, sir. Just drive a little more carefully next time,” he advises, his tone firm but not unkind. “You’re free to go.”

“Thank you, officer,” Tyler replies, his voice steady as he takes the ticket.

As Tyler pulls back onto the highway, the silence in the truck feels heavier than before. You notice the way his jaw is clenched tight, a contrast to the usual relaxed demeanor he carries. His grip on the steering wheel is firm, knuckles white against the red paint. You can sense the tension radiating from him, and it sends a flutter of nervous energy through you.

The muted sounds of the truck and the rhythmic thumping of rain against the windshield fill the air, amplifying the weight of the quiet. After several minutes of driving in silence, you decide it’s time to break the ice.

“Tyler, I—” you start, but he quickly shakes his head, cutting you off.

“Don’t,” he says firmly, though not unkindly, his eyes still fixed on the road ahead.

You bite your lip, feeling a mix of guilt and confusion. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get you pulled over. I’ll pay the speeding ticket, I promise.”

At this, Tyler finally glances at you, a flicker of something playful sparking in his eyes. “Oh, you think that’s all it’s going to take? Just paying the ticket and calling it a day?” His tone is teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness that sends your heart racing.

“What do you mean?” you ask, eyebrows raised, your curiosity piqued.

His lips curl into a smirk, the corner of his mouth quirking up just enough to hint at his mischievous side. “Let’s just say I have a different kind of punishment in mind for you once we get back to the hotel.”

You feel a heat rising to your cheeks at his words. The implication hangs in the air, thick and electric. You squeeze your legs together, suddenly aware of how your body reacts to his playful threat.

“Oh, really?” you manage to say, trying to keep your voice steady despite the rush of excitement coursing through you.

“Yeah, really.” He finally turns his head to look at you, and his gaze is intense, filled with a mix of confidence and something deeper. “I think you need a reminder about what happens when you play around like that while I’m driving.”

Your breath hitches slightly at the way he says it, each word laced with an underlying promise. The thought of being alone with him in the privacy of your motel room makes your heart race even faster. You can already imagine the way he might hold you, the playful banter turning into something much more heated.

“And what kind of reminder do you have in mind?” you challenge, a playful smile tugging at your lips, emboldened by the way he looks at you.

He chuckles softly, the tension in his jaw easing just a bit. “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough. Just know it won’t be easy for you,” he replies, the playful edge in his voice making your pulse quicken even more.

Tyler’s sudden turn off the highway a few minutes later takes you by surprise. You watch as he pulls into a quiet rest stop, the lot deserted and shadowed under a dim streetlight. The familiar rumble of his truck’s engine fades as he shifts into park. His eyes remain fixed ahead for a moment, his jaw tense, but when he glances at you, there’s a spark there—a confident glint that’s all Tyler.

The sound of his belt coming undone pulls your attention fully to him. As he unzips his jeans and reaches down, revealing just how affected he is, your breath catches. This is a side of Tyler you've never seen quite like this. His usual easygoing confidence has morphed into something bolder, more assertive, and it sends a thrill straight through you.

“Shorts off,” he says, his voice a low command, his gaze intense as he meets your eyes. “Then get your pretty little ass over here. I've decided I don't want to wait.”

You feel your face start to turn red, taken aback by his tone but undeniably drawn in by it. He’s never been this forward, and it leaves you momentarily stunned. But then he raises an eyebrow, his eyes flicking to his lap, leaving no room for misinterpretation. You glance around, the empty lot eerily still and quiet, but the thrill of the situation overrides any hesitation.

Heart racing, you pop the button on your denim shorts, sliding them down your legs. Climbing over the console, you’re careful around the equipment scattered between you and Tyler, a reminder of the storm-chasing gear piled up in his truck. Finally, you settle onto his lap, your legs straddling him as his hands come to rest on your hips, grounding you there with a firm, possessive grip.

There’s a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips, and in that moment, Tyler’s gaze alone makes you feel as if you’re his entire world. The energy between you is electric, leaving no doubt that he’s completely in control—and you’re exactly where you want to be.

The atmosphere in the truck has completely shifted as Tyler leans his seat back to make a little more room, his grip firm on your hips, guiding you over him with steady, unyielding confidence.

Your pulse is racing as you straddle him, trying to ignore the thrill of being in such an exposed place. The dark, quiet lot around you seems to fade, leaving just you and Tyler in the cocoon of his truck.

As you sink down onto Tyler, his hands grip your hips with a possessiveness that sends a shiver through you. The initial stretch is intense, leaving you breathless, but Tyler doesn’t give you long to adjust. He bucks his hips up, pressing you fully against him, your bodies flush as he draws you into a rhythm that’s all-consuming. His arms wrap around your back, holding you close, making it feel like you’re the only two people in the world despite the thrill of the open parking lot.

Every movement becomes a test of restraint as his hands guide your hips, the friction pushing you closer to the edge. The weight of his body beneath you, the warmth of his skin, the scent of his cologne—it all heightens the intensity, and soon, your breaths are mingling, matching in urgency.

Tyler’s mouth finds the shell of your ear, and you hear his low, husky whisper, laced with a mix of adoration and authority. “You’re not allowed to finish until we’re back at the motel, you understand?” He murmurs, his voice firm. The promise of “punishment” hangs in the air, thickening the tension between you.

A thrill of rebellion flares up, daring you to ignore his words, but you catch his gaze, steady and knowing. Tyler’s eyes are locked on you, as if he’s memorizing every reaction, every gasp. 

He knows every inch of your body, every telltale sign of your nearing climax, and with every arch of your hips, he can sense your resolve slipping.

You feel yourself teetering right on the edge, one or two more movements of your hips and you know you could get yourself there, but is it worth the punishment that would come with it?

His mouth is close to your ear, his breath hot and unsteady. “Don’t even think about it,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, as he senses your resolve wavering. “Not until we’re back at the motel. Remember?”

A shiver runs through you, and it’s taking everything in you to keep from crossing the line, but the look on his face—equal parts teasing and commanding—keeps you hanging on. Tyler keeps up the rhythm, each movement an expert test of your self-control. The whole situation has you electrified, both daring and savoring the challenge he's given you.

He keeps his eyes locked on yours, his gaze unwavering. “Good girl,” he whispers approvingly, and the praise sends another shiver down your spine. 

Your eyes catch the faint glint of headlights in the distance, and your heart skips as you realize they're moving closer, aimed right at the rest stop.

You lean in, whispering urgently to Tyler, “Someone’s coming.”

Instead of slowing down or pulling back, Tyler’s grip tightens around your waist, his hands pressing you firmly against him as his eyes meet yours with a mischievous glint. “Then you’d better get me there fast,” he murmurs, voice dark and steady, daring you to rise to the challenge.

His hips thrust up, driving into you with an intensity that makes your head fall back, a loud, breathy moan slipping from your lips before you can stop it. You can feel him everywhere, his hands firm on your skin, his chest rising and falling under yours as the rhythm between you builds to a dizzying pace.

The headlights draw nearer, their beams glinting off the side mirrors, and with a low, guttural groan, Tyler buries himself deep, his entire body tensing beneath you. A shudder runs through him as he lets go, filling you completely, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. You feel him press his lips to your forehead as his hand starts to rub your back.

You carefully shift back over to the passenger seat, your cheeks flushed and your legs shaky, feeling the warmth of Tyler's release start to slip out, dampening your underwear. You quickly tug your shorts back on, fingers fumbling as you catch your breath. Glancing over, you see Tyler, his own breathing just settling, as he casually tucks himself back in, zipping his jeans and securing his belt as though nothing happened.

Once he’s ready, he flashes you a satisfied grin, throwing the truck back into gear and pulling out onto the highway, the hum of the engine filling the silence between you. You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips as you lean back in the seat, finally feeling your pulse slow.

“Am I forgiven yet?” you ask, your voice still a little breathless.

Tyler’s eyes flick over to you, his smirk deepening. “Forgiven?” He chuckles softly. “Sweetheart, that wasn’t punishment,” he says, reaching over to squeeze your thigh. “That was just the warm-up. You’ll get your real punishment when we get back to the motel.”

The anticipation makes you shiver, and you can’t help but squeeze your legs together, bracing for what’s to come.

[captain-hawks]

hi dee :3 i'm a big fan of your writing and ginormous brain, and i love the spicy sleepover concept you've got going !! (sorry for not popping by earlier, i'm a lil shy hfjhdj >~<)

this wknd could i humbly request that you expand upon a certain roommate!kuroo.. omg that post has been living in my brain non-stop for the last 48h.. 🙏

(hihi thank you so much you're so sweet<3<3<3!!!!!!)

night swim

tetsurou kuroo x f!reader

c: 18+ only, pining, roommate!kuroo, semi-public sex, pool sex, fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie

SPICY SLEEPOVER WEEKEND — HEAT WAVE EDITION

It shouldn’t be weird—treading water after hours in the city pool with Kuroo under a blanket of stars and one dull, flickering street light just outside the chain link fence, the air still thick with the unrelenting humidity of a week-long heat wave.

It shouldn’t be weird that you’re swimming in your underwear, Kuroo’s bright idea to hop the fence and dive in mid-way on your walk back to your apartment from the convenience store too enthusiastic to deny. Too tempting against the uncomfortable, lingering prickle of heat and sweat on your skin after the two of you spent all afternoon trying to fix your one and only shitty, busted air conditioner in the living room. 

Kuroo’s been your roommate for nearly two years now, and you’ve accidentally seen each other naked more than a dozen times at this point—it’s become an occupational hazard you’ve long-since come to terms with.

(At least, you’ve lied to yourself enough to say as much.)

It wouldn’t be weird, if your stupid, traitorous heart would settle back into place behind your rapidly expanding ribcage, if it would let you continue to deny the inconvenient, messy feelings that have settled down roots deep inside of you as of late.

Roots that sprouted to life at the strange, funny feeling that unfurled inside of you at the odd expression on Kuroo’s face when you told him you finally broke up with your cheating boyfriend six months ago. 

Roots that dug their tendrils in even tighter as his room suddenly seemed all too quiet at night, his casual hookups dwindling dry.

(Roots that threatened to choke you the first time you realized you’d accidentally moaned his name into your pillow as your vibrator tipped you over the edge of a trembling, gushing orgasm.)

But it’s too late to backtrack this monumentally disastrous decision, not now that your ill-fated splashing match (an effort to derail the feelings simmering in your gut) finds you caged in against the side wall of the in-ground pool.

You’re a deer caught in headlights beneath his triumphant, smirking gaze—if the deer was secretly begging to get fucked by the goddamn car, that is. 

You haven’t quite decided if it’s better or worse that you’re not wearing your usual comfortable weekend undergarments at the moment, a now-cancelled date (which you’d swiped right on solely with the misguided hope of fucking Kuroo out of your system) finds you still wearing a new lacy pink bra, your nipples clearly exposed through the sheer fabric, and matching thong. Soaking wet and clinging to your skin, neither are doing much to hide the swell of your breasts or the swollen outline of your throbbing clit.

Water splashes gently against the side of the pool, and though you’re not certain who stops laughing first, you find yourself quietly staring at Kuroo and his damp, messy hair and stupidly handsome face.

“What happened to your date?” he asks suddenly.

“He cancelled,” You swallow, trying to play it off as you wave a hand at yourself. “Waste of a new outfit.”

Kuroo’s voice is a little rough as he replies, “His loss.”

“Is it?” you ask quietly.

He stares at you for a moment, seemingly thinking something over before he finally speaks. “You’re not as quiet as you think.”

Though you’re fairly certain you know exactly what he means, you still sputter out, “I—” 

You’ve made an unfortunate habit of it ever since the first time—slicking up your vibrator to thoughts of a tall head of unruly black hair and hazel eyes. Plunging the silicone toy in and out of your cunt to the fantasy of how Kuroo’s deep voice would sound against the shell of your ear.

“Is it fucked up,” Kuroo breathes out in a gravelly tone, one finger feathering over the strap of your new bra, “that I don’t want anyone else to see you in this?”

“Do you think it’s fucked up?” you ask.

His answering laugh is low and self-deprecating as he drags a hand through his hair, rogue strands sticking up in the wake of his fingers. “I mean it’s definitely fucked up how many times I’m gonna jerk off thinking about how your tits look right now.”

The heat simmering in your chest flares white-hot, and your throat goes dry.

“I feel like your view might be a little obstructed,” you tell him, swallowing hard.

He chokes out another laugh, incredulous, like despite the fact that he knows you moan his name while you’re masturbating, he can’t believe that you’re insinuating you want to dump your tits out for him in this public pool in the middle of the night.

“Yeah?” he asks.

You nod, reaching behind you to unhook your bra, and an insistent lick of arousal crawls up your spine at the way he mutters, “Fuck,” under his breath as your soaking wet, naked breasts are inches away from his own bare chest.

Reaching down, you tug him a hair closer by the waistband of his boxers, biting your lip at the feeling of his erection that’s now pressed against your thigh.

“Fucking perfect,” he exhales, carefully reaching up to cup your tits in his hands, eyes darkening at the soft little moan you let out when he strokes his thumb over your pebbled nipples. “You’re so fucking perfect, you have no idea.”

And then you’re gently caressing the nape of his neck, and all it takes is a soft whisper of his name from your lips to have his mouth crashing into yours.

It’s messy and it’s desperate and it’s perfect, the way Kuroo’s lips fervently slide across yours, his tongue dancing across the seam of your lips until they part, the kiss deepening into something that has you dizzy with heady, unrestrained desire. 

“Kuroo,” you whimper as he presses you flush against the wall, his cock a rock hard line against the puffy swell of your pussy. 

And then you press back into him and nearly see stars at the friction, and he groans, rocking forward into you in turn. You spread your legs a little wider, halfway tempted to just wrap yourself around his waist and rub your cunt against his thick length, and clearly he has the same idea—because he grabs hold of your thighs and murmurs, “Keep going.”

You’d be more than a little worried about getting caught, if Kuroo wasn’t swallowing down each of your increasingly lewd moans and whines with rough, hungry kisses, sloppy trails of spit hanging between your mouths each time your lips part for air. 

It feels so fucking good—dragging your cunt up and down his length, your nerve endings flaring with hot, sharp bursts of pleasure. 

But it’s not enough, not when you can feel just how big his cock is, when your pussy is pathetically clenching around nothing with each thrust.

You don’t realize you’ve moaned the same words out loud that you whine in the dark in your room until Kuroo curses, his grip on your hips tightening as he outright drags you against him. 

“Fuck me, Kuroo.”

Almost the same words—

“That’s not what I heard you say last night,” he rasps, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

You stare at him for a beat before you slowly say, “Fuck me, Tetsurou.”

Kuroo groans, his forehead falling against yours, and he kisses you roughly before reaching between your bodies, tugging aside your thong to slide his fingers through your slick folds. Even despite the water you’re currently swimming in, slick arousal coats the walls of your cunt, and you nearly come right then and there as he appreciatively moans as he explores your tight, desperate hole with one thick finger, which is soon joined by a second as he stretches you open. 

By the time he starts teasing the head of his shaft against your slit, you’re two seconds from begging for it, a sob on the tip of your tongue as your fingers claw into his back.

He chuckles.

The fantasy of your vibrator is nothing compared to the fat stretch of Kuroo’s cock as he finally sinks past your quivering entrance, burying his shaft balls deep in the choking, clenching grasp of your cunt. 

It’s nothing compared to the way Kuroo’s hips snap into yours as he holds you in his grasp while he fucks you right there in the pool, your tits bobbing in and out of the water with each plunge and drag. The wrecked manner in which he murmurs your name, the possessive way his hands roam your body, like he knows you nearly fucked someone else tonight.

(The way he fucks you like he knows you wanted it to be him all along.)

“Tetsurou,” you breathe out.

“I was wrong,” he gasps as he tries to bully his dick in even deeper, as you hump into him in turn, greedy for every inch.

“About what?”

“I thought you ruined me for anyone else the first time I heard you moan my name through the wall.” He exhales, pulling out before thrusting back inside of you. “But that doesn’t even come fucking close to this.”

You’re not entirely sure what’s the catalyst for the sudden climax that explodes within you—your pent up desire, the thumb he’s currently stroking across your throbbing clit, the raw honesty of his words. 

All of it, likely.

Given the way you nearly black out under the force of your trembling, gushing orgasm, Kuroo groaning at the way your pussy expands and contracts against the stretch of his shaft, lost in an overload of pleasure.

“Inside,” you gasp out at the unasked question that lingers on his face as his own peak approaches.

Kuroo’s answering kiss is filthy as he groans into your mouth, cock pulsing heavily as he spills rope after rope of hot cum inside of you, filling you deep.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes out, forehead falling against yours as his orgasm tapers off, his shaft still nestled inside of you.

You float there in comfortable silence for a few moments, Kuroo pressing soft kisses along the side of your face.

“So—”

He freezes, waiting for whatever it is that you’re about to say.

You continue, “I don’t feel very confident in my ability to jump back over that fence now.”

Given the nearly liquified state of your sated limbs, which feel damn near close to jelly as your legs remain wrapped around Kuroo’s waist.

“The lock on the gate is broken anyway,” he shrugs.

You balk, “Then why’d you make me climb it in the first place?!”

He shrugs, not looking anywhere near apologetic as he replies casually, “Your ass looked good in those shorts.”

[leonsdolly]

Tammy Faye

Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Synopsis: In which you love Leon so much, you'd do anything for him.

CW: nsfw 18+, angst, obsession, depictions of murder, subby Leon, oral (m receiving)

WC: 4.4k

A/N: inspired by Tammy Faye by Nicole Dollanganger !

Red, black, red, black! Your hands are painted with the brilliant scarlet hue as you scrub them vigorously under the freezing tap water. You glance up at the filthy mirror to catch a glimpse of yourself. Black streaks of mascara trickle down your cheeks, mixing with the blood splattered across them like unholy rouge on a Venetian mask. You force a smile through the cracked exterior. Pierrot gone rogue. If he’d stabbed Harlequin eighteen times in a truckstop bathroom less than ten miles from Raccoon City and made sure to pose him all special for a handsome cop to find.

It’s as if all you see these days are red and black. How you long to catch a glimpse of the blue that swirls your lover’s eyes. The faint baby blue shadow you had applied that morning was a poor substitute. You screw your eyes shut and try to picture the particular shade of cerulean that you live for. His lovely face is overtaken by the gut-wrenching smell of copper and mildew as you open your eyes and continue scrubbing at your flesh. No matter, you’ll see him soon. For now, you focus on washing away all evidence of your inundating love. You scrub harder and harder and harder. Jesus, how much blood could a girl hold?

After what feels like eons under the flickering fluorescent light, you turn the rusty faucet off and smile widely at your reflection again. If Leon were to see you now, would he be enraptured by the way your thick mascara coated lashes frame your teary eyes like a doll that’s been trapped in an unopened box, forced to watch the most heartbreaking scenes play out through the unrelenting acetate sheet? You shake your head forcefully, expelling those thoughts out. The cops will be here soon. A twinge of giddiness zaps through your heart at the thought. He’ll be here soon.

You reapply a fresh coat of red lipstick - Dior, of course, before taking one last look around the dingy restroom. It’s filthy, but it was your personal respite for the past few hours. You wrinkle your nose at the row of grotesque urinals lined up against the dirt encrusted wall. They were filled with mysterious liquids that made your stomach churn. Thick reddish-brown goop that lay still with unidentifiable objects submerged within like a bog in Hell. Who would even think of doing something as disgusting as sticking their hand in? You turn away and push the door open to be greeted by the warm summer air. The night sky looms over you, a black sheet covered in stars that twink and blink and wink down at you as if to say “your secret’s safe with us.”

While this truckstop is gross, its beauty lies in the fact that it’s tiny and desolate as hell. Sure, the city is less than ten miles away, but the dense forestry surrounding the Arklay Mountains provides some coverage along the highway, shielding this particular stop from careless eyes. If you weren’t careful, you could miss it altogether unless you paid close attention to the fading signs. And because this was in the middle of nowhere, there weren’t any workers manning the facility at night. You wink back up at the stars and circle around the bathroom towards the gaggle of deserted semi-trucks, towards the one with its back door unlatched and open for all to see, towards her. 

She sits up unnaturally, thanks to the crate you had propped up against her back. The emptiness of the semi’s trailer looks as if it’s about to swallow her for all that she’s got like a black hole. The shadows of moths fluttering against the lights dance over her, contrasting the stillness of her features. You tilt your head as you cross your arms and glare up at her. You’re still prettier, right? Her skin has taken on a sallow tone that appears even more unflattering in the harsh fluorescent light. Her hair is tangled and matted with blood. The black blouse she wears is torn and looks even darker with the stains covering it. You gently smack your lips, feeling the satisfaction of freshly applied lipstick. The whore got what was coming. 

Gone were the nights of crying on the kitchen floor as Tammy Wynette played from another room. Gone were the days of having to excuse yourself in the staff restroom at the station to wipe the raven smudges away from your eyes. Gone were the moments of sheer exasperation and disgust as you watched her touch his uniform clad shoulders and lean in close to let him brush his lips over her own.

You pull your dainty white lace-trimmed gloves out of your pocket and slip them on before padding over to the lonesome payphone. You deposit a quarter before carefully dialing the three digits that would summon your lover like Beatrice descending from Paradise.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I’d like to report a dead body at the old truckstop about ten miles south of Raccoon City.” Click.

You put the inky black phone back on the receiver before smiling uncontrollably. Butterflies erupt in your stomach as the anticipation of seeing him very soon washes over you. You love him so madly, you’re convinced the only way out of it is 500 mg of midazolam, 100 mg of vecuronium bromide, and 240 mEq of good ol’ potassium chloride.

The dense forest behind the truckstop beckons you with open arms, and you oblige. You skip over to a spot that will allow you to have a front row view of what’s about to transpire while keeping you hidden among the foliage. From here, you can see the girl sitting up with deadweight limbs like a marionette being forced upright with invisible strings. The strings are in your hands, but you were forced to seize control of them from her. Who knows what her influence would have done to Leon?

A bat of her clumpy lashes here, a hand on his firm shoulder there, and your Leon voluntarily hooked himself onto the strings, dancing to the tune she hums from her spot in the dingy break room. You suppose you can't fault him entirely; it's in his nature to grin bashfully and gaze at a woman who fawns over him with lovesick eyes. After all, that's what you love about your sweet rookie cop. Sweeter than candy floss, tantalizing in every aspect like a perfect little peach ready to be plucked from Eden. He just needs to realize that you had always been leaning against the counter of that break room, observing the two with astute grace.

“Excuse me, could you point me in the direction of the chief’s office?” You dissolved.

The first words he had ever uttered to you solidified that you wanted all his words, and you would give him yours. You can’t even remember what you had responded with, lost in the tranquility of his eyes and splendor of his smile. You didn’t miss the way those eyes softly ran over your cream silk blouse, caressing and thumbing over the first few buttons for a peek of something more, something buried deep within your soul. Those lips pulled back to beam at you, beckoning you to press every part of you onto them until you shed black tears from a warmth you weren’t accustomed to.

You hear the sirens approaching from your protected spot, silently thanking nature for watching over you while the love of your life approaches.

“Come get your gift, sweetheart,” you murmur. “It's all for you, everything I do…”

Your heart thumps faster as the sirens scream louder and louder until they reach the truckstop. The slam of car doors echo throughout the otherwise silent night air as the officers’ frantic voices jumble over each other. You hold your breath as you identify your darling's voice among the two; your heart is about to blast off for the moon, leaving a red heart-shaped chemtrail behind it for all to see.

Some tinkering with flashlights and crackle of walkie-talkies, and there he is.

Leon rounds the corner to face the semi’s trailer, face going slack as he takes in the stage you set for him. He stands transfixed before her, immobilized like he’s now the one behind the acetate sheet. A pretty Ken doll, waiting for someone to tug at his strings.

His partner, Officer Redfield, flanks the semi as he joins Leon. “Fuck.”

Officer Redfield wastes no time in flinging open the car door and jamming his button to radio dispatch while his partner pales in the moonlight. You can't really make out what he's saying to dispatch but the terms “DOA” and “requesting units” and her name float over to you. When dispatch has confirmed that backup is on the way, Officer Redfield walks over to Leon and hesitantly places a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Kennedy.”

Leon shakes his head, a little dazed, a little frantic, but pretty just the same, and your thighs clench together. “How could this have happened again, Chris?”

Officer Redfield sighs heavily as he gazes up at the displayed corpse with unease. “I don't know. Goddamn it…”

He says something about how great of a colleague she was and how the entire station would miss her, but you can scarcely hear him over the blood roaring in your ears. Your beloved had asked how something like this could have happened again. Again. He knew. He was at least putting the pieces together. Your cheeks hurt from beaming in the shadows of the foliage; he was acknowledging the gifts you had bestowed upon him. A girl from a coffee shop whose smile drew him in like a shrimp to an anglerfish. A brute of a man who dared to connect his fist to such a lovely cheek during a drunken brawl at a bar. Both posed for his lovely eyes only, their last moments entombed in the polaroids tucked away in your desk drawer.

I’ve done it again, you silently mouth to him. I’ve done it again.

He doesn’t show up to work the next day. Or the day after that and the day after that and the day after that, and your organs fail.

An entire week passes, leaving your heart to writhe in agony from his absence. You stare forlornly at his empty desk from your own, shuffling papers mindlessly and feeling your hand twitch towards the letter opener whenever Chief Irons walks by - the bastard was the one who granted your darling “time off” to “process his emotions.”

A feeling of solemnity looms over the entire station as it whispers in hushed tones about who could’ve ripped away its beloved receptionist, a young woman who was in the prime of her life. The collective mourning is enough to make you want to vomit all over her desk, covering the slab of wood in your spite. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

You skim your fingers over the mahogany surface of Leon’s desk, feeling every crevice he feels as he hastily writes up reports and laughs at the other officers’ jokes like an angel breathing life into humans formed from dust. You long to see his splendorous face again, long to hear the stumbling of his words as his superiors tease him, long to inhale his reassuring scent as you brush past him to heat up your food in the break room. 

“You friends with him or something?” Officer Redfield’s voice shatters you out of your reverie with a jolt. 

“Oh, um, kinda…” Your voice softens at the question. Were you friends? Absolutely not. You were something better.

“Well, a few of us are gonna take him out tonight. Try to cheer him up after everything that’s been going on. Hell, we all need to cheer up. That last one hit way too close to home, especially for Kennedy.” His expression grows solemn. Three unsolved murders in such a short amount of time doesn’t necessarily boast confidence in the local police department. “You should come.”

You’re hesitant to respond. While your instincts are screaming at you to politely decline the invitation and instead observe the gathering from afar, a part of you realizes that you’ll get to be close to him. The thought makes you flutter like a little lacy thing in the wind that’s been pinned to a clothesline for as long as it can remember.

“I’d like that, thanks for inviting me.” You beam up at Officer Redfield. “You’ve all worked so hard. You deserve to relax as much as possible.”

“I don’t know about that.” A heavy sigh escapes his lips, and it looks like he wants nothing more than to tip his head back and let the whiskey slide down his throat, burning and clawing and gnawing at his esophagus until his vision turns black. “That’s three families who are cryin’ themselves to sleep, wonderin’ why this is happening to them.”

“Right.” Your eyebrows raise together in a display of faux sympathy, and your lovely mouth twists in a way that one could interpret as a pout of sorrow.

Where was the collective empathy when you were crying yourself to sleep every night while he was undoubtedly hugging her to his chest as they slept peacefully without a care in the world? Where was the justice in forcing yourself to be satisfied by your own fingers knowing it was a poor substitute for the heavenly cock filling her up? Where was the sense in any of it?

You slip back into an easy grin. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Raucous laughter and clinking of glasses and billiard balls missing their shots surround you as you enter a bar that’s rather homely in its own way. Your nerves are powerful enough to puncture flesh as you had primped and fussed over your appearance beforehand. This is your first outing with Leon, and you know that looking like anything less than Aphrodite’s descendant is not an option.

You see him before anyone else, just the way it’s always been. A modern-day Adonis standing unsuspectingly among the mediocre. His beauty wafts over to you like the aroma of honey and vanilla and brown sugar brewing on a stove, sweet and utterly tantalizing. It wraps itself around you, commanding you to drink it in until you relinquish all control. You’ve already given it all up for him. Gazing at him like he’s your cult leader, ready to usher you into the New World where it’s just you and him and no one else. You’ll do anything to preserve that world.

You make your way over to the group, greeting them and exchanging pleasantries before ordering your own drink. He’s leaning haphazardly on the edge of a pool table, and you casually stand by him, gripping onto your glass with trembling fingers.

He looks rather exhausted. Faint shadows encircle his eyes, and his blonde hair is a little mussed. His clothes are slightly rumpled, and he looks glumly at the tequila in his hand. His cheeks are painted with a subtle flush from the alcohol. You try not to reveal the utter state of adoration he’s put you in as you speak up.

“How are you, Officer Kennedy?”

He throws you a sidelong glance, and you catch it with bambi eyes. “I’m… hanging in there, I guess. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

You feel as though he’s taken an ax to every single appendage as you giggle softly and tell him your name.

He gives you a small smile as he nods at you. “I see you in the breakroom a lot.” His smile heals the bloody mess he just made, regenerating your wounds until you feel whole again.

“I do too. I’m really sorry about what you’re going through. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling.” You tilt your head sympathetically to show him you really care about his well-being. The angle also shows off your good side.

“Thanks,” he sighs. “I don’t know how something like this could’ve happened to her. Been beating myself up all this time wondering what I could’ve done to prevent this from happening. I don’t know. Sounds kinda crazy, but the other two cases we had felt pretty c-close to me too… You think I’m being real self-centered for that or something? It’s only my first year on the force, and I-I’m trying to process all of this. S’a shitty feeling…” His lets his drunken ramble fade away.

“I think you’re a good and kind person who is just trying to make sense of some horrible events that have happened.” You gently touch his arm as a way of offering comfort, and the feeling of his skin underneath your fingertips evokes an overwhelming surge in between your legs. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Officer Kennedy. You can’t blame yourself for anything.”

He blinks back tears that are starting to brim along his heavenly lashes, and your clit throbs underneath your dress. 

“I really appreciate that.” He smiles at you again which brings forth another wave of sticky arousal in your panties. “And Leon’s fine. Don’t need to do any of that ‘Officer’ stuff with me.”

“Leon.” Your favorite word in the world rolls off your tongue with practiced grace. He doesn’t need to know that you cling to the two syllables every night with frenzied cries as you try desperately to make yourself cum.

“Leon, what do you say we find somewhere a little more quiet? It can get pretty rambunctious and overwhelming in these places…” You lean in closer to gaze up at him underneath your pretty lashes, allowing your carefully selected fragrance to pull him under the depths of your desire, a siren calling out to the shipwrecked prince.

He lets out a stutter as the alcohol-induced blush dusted over his nose and cheeks intensifies further. It’s enough to put a Botticelli painting to shame.

“S-somewhere quiet would be good.”

You give his arm a gentle pat before leading him outside where the crisp night air kisses your faces, giving two lovers a proper welcome. The back of the bar is relatively secluded, and there is a small wooden bench that you promptly perch yourselves on. For the next minute or so, the two of you sit in silence. Your heart is about to blast off towards the moon as the realization that he’s here with his thigh pressed against yours hits you hard.

“Thanks for listening to me back there,” he finally murmurs with his eyes cast downwards. “I don't really want to get into that with the others.”

“Why not? They care about you, and want to make sure you’re okay.” I’m the only one you need, and I’ll make sure it stays that way.

“To be honest… I don't want them to think that I can’t handle myself. That I’m still just a stupid weak rookie who can’t compartmentalize his emotions like a real man.”

“Oh, Leon…” Darling, sweetheart, baby. “You don't have to prove anything to anyone. You’re a talented cop and a great person. You feel everything the way you want to feel. No one’s judging you or looking down on you for it. Trust me on that.”

You’re so caught up in reassuring him that you don’t realize your hand has floated up to cup his cheek until he stammers something unintelligible. You let your thumb rub soothing circles on his soft skin as you continue.

“I mean, anyone can tell how kind and sweet and smart and skilled you are. You have the respect of everyone at work, including mine…”

His flustered expression causes your breath to hitch as you gently brush his bottom lip with your thumb. You could write poetry inspired by the way his lips curve into a shy smile, pulling his faint dimples out of their slumber and letting sweet nothings be whispered to them under the moonlight.

“You want me to make everything better, baby?” You let your murmur be as soothing as possible, an elixir that promises to heal the broken man before you.

He nods bashfully as your forehead touches his. You let your hand fall from his face, and he whines softly at the loss of warmth, and as much as you’d love to mentally record the sound so that it’s playing over and over in your brain for those unfulfilling nights on the kitchen floor, you swallow it up with your own lips.

Your first kiss is what people go to war for. As your lips move together in tandem, you’re overcome with nostalgia for a time when the aroma of freshly baked apple pie wafts through the home and neighbors wave to each other over their white picket fences and Leon comes home with a twinkle in his eyes as he kisses you and the bundle in your arms.

This is why you did what you did.

He whimpers into your mouth as the kiss grows deeper. His hands roam down to your waist, squeezing gently at your sides as you let your tongue intertwine with his. You move your lips south, along his jaw and towards his neck where you set up camp. He lets out a whine as you press your lips particularly hard against the sensitive spot by his throat, taking care to pay attention to the two little moles peeking back up at you.

“P-please…” He gasps at another scrape of your teeth against his delicate skin.

“Just leaving a few marks to remember me by,” you coo. “Making my pretty boy even prettier.”

To your delight, his hips shift uncomfortably at your words. You lower your hand to meet his crotch, gently palming the growing bulge underneath his jeans. His head tips back, proclaiming open season on his throat to which you attack with vigor. Your thighs squeeze together as your lover pants towards the moon. You’re so focused on making your pretty boy feel good with your soft rubs and passionate kisses that you’ve scarcely paid any attention to the soaking gusset of your panties.

You slowly but surely lower yourself to the ground, internally cringing at the feeling of dirt on your knees. Oh well, it’s not the worst thing you’ve ever gotten on you. You perch yourself in between his legs and fumble with his belt buckle. His head returns to its original position as he gazes down at you with flushed cheeks and hooded eyes.

“Y-you don’t have to.”

“I want to, baby. I said I’d make everything better, right?”

“Mmm, yeah.” 

He sighs as you successfully unclasp his buckle and shimmy his hardened cock out of his boxers. You preen at the sight - it’s pretty, just like the rest of him, and weeping for your attention. You gingerly take it in your hands, marveling at the girth as you stroke it up and down with slow movements. He whimpers at the feeling and involuntarily bucks his hips up so that he fucks into your hand. You let him do this a few times before deciding enough is enough.

“What do you want me to do, sweet boy? Tell me, I’ll do anything you want me to.”

“Your m-mouth,” he whispers.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you,” you tease as you hover your lips over the head.

“Want you to put your mouth on it,” he says, sounding more brave. How cute.

You hum in approval as you plant a kiss on the flushed tip of his cock which elicits the sexiest moan you’ve heard from him all night. Your hips roll against nothing, seeking pleasure for the ache in your cunt, but you force yourself to ignore it. You can’t be selfish tonight.

You softly lick at the sides before working on enveloping his length with your warm mouth. You bob your head up and down, relishing in the heavenly noises escaping his lips. You savor the taste of him as you slowly lift your head off to suckle at the tip before diving back in again, letting each inch tease against your throat. Your cheeks hollow out as you gaze up at him through your mascara covered lashes, letting your eyes go hazy with pleasure.

“You’re so pretty,” he heaves as he grips onto the hem of his shirt for an anchor. It’s all too much - your puffy lips stretched wide to accommodate his girth, the black tears trickling down your cheeks as you take him in for everything he’s got, the way you’re massaging his balls to heighten his pleasure. “I’m gonna-”

You pull all the way off, and you swear he almost cries.

“P-please, keep going. Please make me cum, I was almost there…” Tears bead along his lash line, and he desperately reaches for you. Your heart swells as you feel your emotions crash over you at the sight of the man you love crying for you to make him orgasm. How far you’ve come since those melancholy nights on the kitchen floor.Their sacrifices weren’t in vain after all. 

You smile up at him and proceed to pleasure him in the way you can - the way he deserves. The lewd slurping sounds you make fill the air, and he tries not to thrust harshly into your mouth, but it’s all too overwhelming when you’re sucking his cock like it’s your favorite thing to do in the world.

He throws his head back and lets out a high-pitched moan as he bursts into your waiting mouth. You swallow his load, savoring the taste of his cum and trying to commit the feeling of it all into your memory. You pull off of his softening cock and press kisses to his twitching thighs as you observe his blissful state. His chest heaves as he attempts to catch his breath. His cheeks are as flushed as ever and a bit of drool has escaped onto his chin. 

“Th-thank you,” he breathes.

“The pleasure was all mine.” You help him get fully dressed again and capture his lips in one more kiss.

“Do you maybe want to come over tonight? We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to… I-I just don’t think I want to be alone right now.” His eyes are begging, and who are you to deprive them of their desires?

“I’d love to.” You smile sweetly at him and take his hand to lead him to the car, winking up at the stars as you do.

[minyard-05]

okay here's my take on the perfect court (tattoos/markings, i have a different set of thoughts about the concept as a whole)

roman numerals are cool, dgmw, but somehow they feel too cool for what the Court is. because like. riko and kevin wrote those numbers on their faces as kids, probably with sharpies, back when exy was just a game and the ravens were just a team. so to me it makes the most sense for them to be in arabic numerals (1,2) rather than roman ones because to me it feels like there's something almost inherently childlike about it? as in them literally writing the numbers on their faces, probably not too long after they learned their basic numbers, and i feel like at some point they tried making them look like their jerseys too or something.

the perfect court only exists because riko says it does, and he created it inside an echo chamber of the nest and the press that was willing to fuel his ego for a good story. riko was preparing the perfect court for people who weren't even ravens, i mean he had a number set aside for andrew even after andrew refused. he was convinced that he was able to build the Court he wanted, purely because he was king, and not only did his Court exist only inside the nest, but riko did as well. him dying after finals was truly the only way to end the story, because if none of the ravens left the nest well-adjusted, riko never would've been able to fit alongside a pro team. without his castle, his court, he's nothing.

and outside of the nest we see just how quickly it all falls apart. kevin gets his tattoo covered up. neil's is burned off by his father (semi unrelated but still relevant). the only person left with his Court tattoo is jean, which is a whole other can of worms, but the point is that the perfect court was always a child's game and nothing more. the entire existence of it centers around riko and kevin being 1 and 2 and everybody else following after, but that's never been true. riko's arrogance and his belief that through force he can shape the world into what he wants it to be is exactly what killed him, and it killed his Court too.

[101maverick]

any ideas for going stargazing with Damian Wayne? I heard you needed requests

A/n: Let’s not think about the fact that this took me months, okay? Life is stressful and writing takes braincells I do not always have unfortunately. #orangecatthoughts

Word count: 632

Less than Perfect

Damian was most decidedly not nervous.

He was an Al-Ghul and a Wayne on top of that, the heir to the Demon's Head's throne and the heir to Batman's cowl, the larger-than-life Caped Crusader, the Dark Knight, the Scourge of Gotham's Underground.

As such, it would have been absolutely preposterous to even suggest that something as mundane (and dare he say plebeian if not executed with the utmost decorum) as stargazing with his girlfriend would make him nervous.

He wasn't. His hands were that clammy for completely unrelated reasons. Gotham weather was abysmal for the vast majority of the year, nobody could fault his body for thermoregulating in the face of the stifling humidity hanging in the air.

It seemed as if Titus could sense his internal debate from his place next to him on the couch if the way the large dog huffed was any indication.

The sound snapped Damian out of his thoughts and he suddenly became acutely aware of what had disturbed Titus; to his utmost horror, his leg was bouncing. Completely against his will.

Treacherous leg. It was the unwanted proof that he was indeed not calm, and that he was decidedly nervous.

Damian sighed. He really wasn’t going to find a way out of this was he? He was going to be stuck worrying over every single detail and scenario until the evening.

Not that Damian didn’t want to go stargazing with his girlfriend no, of course that was not the problem here.

The problem was his reaction. He was way too nervous about this and the worst part was that he had a hunch as for what was causing it.

The idea of being so vulnerable, at night alone and outside, most of all willingly, unsettled him. Getting used to being with others without his prickly demeanour protecting him was something he had yet to get used to, and this would be a big step for him.

It was still more comfortable than expressing his love verbally though, so if that was what was necessary to show his feelings then so be it.

The couch creaked as he got up, a determined glint in his eye.

He was Damian Wayne-Al Ghul, son of the Batman and Grandson to the Demon’s Head, and he was going to prepare the best stargazing date the world had ever seen.

————————————

When Damian led you out onto the Wayne Manor grounds you were pretty excited. 452

His hands held yours as he guided you on the grass, your steps becoming surer as you got comfortable with the blindfold.

Still even with the excitement, nothing could have prepared you for what you saw as Damian’s deft fingers loosened the blindfold and the fabric fell away from your face.

A plethora carefully arranged pillows sat atop a large picnic cloth, folded blankets to the side. To the side was also a low table, a few snacks set on it under clear glass domes. Scattered candles set inside lanterns bathed the scenery in their flickering glow.

“Damian, I don’t have any words, I— It’s so beautiful, truly.” It was a wonder you could even speak through your astonishment, your eyes wide as saucers and your mouth hanging open.

“Tt, do not look so surprised. As if I could prepare anything less than perfect.”

His tone dripped condescension, but you only smiled at him. After all, no amount of semi-darkness could hide the blush creeping up his cheeks, the red dusting the tips of his ears.

“Of course, Damian.”

————————————

A/n: hope you enjoyed! Reading angst gives me the writing bug I guess lol. If you like my work, please consider reblogging and checking out my other works through the master list in my pinned post<3 Love you all🩷

[chiwhorei]

ʜᴏᴡ ᴄᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇ ꜱᴏ ʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ɢɪʀʟ’ꜱ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ . . . !

Notes: His Veiled Whispers card made me cwazy what can I say…

Tags: semi-public, face-fucking, no gendered terms, mean Zayne (LaDS) x reader

ᴀɴᴅ ᴢᴀʏɴᴇ could say that he isn’t trying to be, that he’s sorry, that he’ll try to be gentle, that he looses control when it come to you. But he’d be lying.

The grip he’s got on your hair is hard enough to pull at your scalp and pinch tears from your eyes. He’s unrelenting, pushing you farther into the closed door of his office with each thrust of his hips. It’s messy, tears and slobber covering your face and his thighs. He’d usually have more decorum than this. Than trapping you behind a shallow door with plenty of passersby on the other side. It’s the early afternoon for god’s sake. There’s bound to be plenty of chatter about the wet clicks and hiccups his colleagues heard from Dr. Zayne’s office in the middle of the work day.

“Please, I need— I need a second,” you gasp for air, pulling away from Zayne enough for his cock to drop from your lips and smack against his thigh. He tssks you, holding your head turned upwards by the front of your hair. Your breath is ragged, bottom lip jutting out and bruised from the unrelenting face-fuck.

“One.” Zayne says, and your teeth almost knock into his tip. He shoves his cock all the way back down your throat with one seamless movement. Your breath is stuck in your diaphragm, you sputter and cough against his perfectly trimmed pubes. You follow the sparse trail of black hair up towards his bellybutton, and meet the scrutinizing eyes of your primary care physician.

A smile crawls from one side of his lips to the other, Zayne bares his teeth when tears start rolling down your cheeks again. The hand not keeping you in place comes out to pinch your nose. The pain in your expression makes him want to flood your poor throat.

Zayne reaches down, he feels himself bulging under the pretty skin of your kiss-bitten neck. He squeezes just enough to feel the beginning of a useless scream as it bubbles from your soul.

His composure is stainless steel, rust proof and weather worn. He’s not going to let you up from your rug-burned knees until he’s fucked every last thought from your brain.

[magneto-was-fucking-right]

The Ghost Next Door - Chapter 8

Prompt: After suffering an almost lethal injury in combat, Simon "Ghost" Riley expected a dull, and uneventful leave back at his shitty apartment. His new next-door neighbor ruins his plans. Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (named Riley Thomas for plot purposes)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Disclaimer: slow burn; neighbor!Simon; explicit sexual content; unprotected sex;

Chapter Summary: In which Simon and his neighbour exchange confessions (and bodily fluids).

Word Count: 3.9K

Come Monday evening, Simon Riley found himself facing his hardwood floors, strong, firm biceps holding him steady in a strong plank. 

The heavy rain splattered loudly against his windows, the howling winter wind unrelenting against the building’s edges. He had turned the small heater on hours ago, but he knew if he wasn’t settling his daily score of push-ups he would be freezing regardless.

Johnny had left the previous evening, taking the overly excited pup out of his neighbor’s hands, and Simon had busied himself with deep cleaning the flat, finishing the day with some much needed exercise to take the edge off. He both loathed and yearned for the anxious nerves bubbling in his stomach everytime he thought about his last encounter with the young woman next door.

He had found no relief in the familiar touch of his own hand, nothing nearly satisfying enough to keep his mind from wandering back to her kitchen, and the wetness coating his fingers inside her warmth. 

He felt his cock twitch in his sweatpants once again, permanently hard with the worst case of blue balls he had ever experienced, since he first felt her eager grip around his base, and the languid strokes that had almost brought him over the edge. Johnny hadn’t shut up about having caught them in the middle of something, despite Simon’s unyielding denial and threats to dump his corpse over the canal, and he knew he would never let it go.

He pulled himself off the floor, joints popping semi-painfully as he checked his watch.Simon couldn’t deny the unsettling concern twisting in his stomach as he checked the time again: Riley should have been home at least an hour ago. He admonished himself for having studied her routine so well, knowing she would most likely find it creepy, but as soon as he pulled his hoodie over his head, he heard her keys jiggle in the hallway.

As per their usual routine, he waited for her to be ready to spend some time with him, putting on his face mask and walking over to the stove, beginning to heat up dinner as he heard her move about. 

Was that…sniffling? 

He knew something was off the moment she meekly knocked on the door, and he wasn’t surprised to find tears rolling down her freckled cheeks, hair messy from the wind, still in her oversized scrubs reeking of cat piss.

“Bloody hell…” He recoiled from the stench. “Wha’ happened to you?”

“I had the worst day ever!” She cried weakly, shoulders slouched in defeat as Simon softly pulled her inside.

“I can see that, love.” He cocked his head to the right “Wanna talk about it?”

“I had to put down a puppy.” She sobbed into her hands and his heart broke at the pain in her voice, the way she trembled. “Then we got two feral cats to spay and one of them pissed all over me, I stepped on dog shit on the way home, got soaked from the rain because I forgot my umbrella and my hot water isn't working.”

She sighed, exhausted, and Simon waited patiently for her breaths to slow down, stepping closer carefully.

Then he wrapped his arms around her smaller frame, engulfing her in a loving embrace that had her head buried in his chest. At first she had resisted, palms pressed against the muscled span of his broad shoulders.

“Simon…I stink.” 

“So do I, love.” He muttered into her hair, holding her tighter until eventually she relaxed, sighing deeply at the comforting touch, her hands holding onto his hoodie as if she was afraid he would let go too soon. He wouldn’t.

“I ain’t very good with words.” He admitted, arms still secured around her back as she inhaled his scent, his chin propped up on her head. “But how about you take a shower here while I fix yours, and then we eat some dinner, yeah?”

“You can’t always be the one cooking, you know.” She frowned, lifting her head up to look at him.

“Nonsense. M’ home all day anyway.” His thumb wiped away stray tears, a gesture he had so quickly become accustomed to. “Besides, we both know I do it much better.”

“Asshole.” Riley giggled, wiping her nose, and Simon smiled under his mask in genuine happiness.

***

Riley Thomas crossed her arm over her chest, fully naked in her neighbor’s bathroom as she reached for the fluffy towel he had arranged for her. Her scrubs and underwear were discarded on a messy pile on the impressively clean tiles, and she grimaced at the view.

She shivered, freezing, despite the heater Simon had bothered to move to warm up the small space while she washed, quickly realizing she had forgotten to ask him to retrieve some of her own clothes.

“Simon?” She called out nervously from behind the door, but got no response. She sighed deeply before walking out into the hallway, towel wrapped tight around her body as she walked around the flat, trying to find him.

The decorations were overall scarce, most of the rooms in desperate need of a woman’s touch, but she couldn’t help being surprised at how immaculate he had left his home, so in contrast with the constant layer of dust and pet fur in her apartment.

She slowly walked into the last room at the end of the corridor, feeling vulnerable as she found his bedroom, just as tidy as the rest of the house. Simon was nowhere to be seen, but she felt oddly watched as she noticed a picture on top of a dresser, the dim light coming from the window barely enough to make out the silhouettes. She stepped closer, curiously.

Two very young boys smiling brightly, sitting on a young woman’s lap. A scrawny, odd looking man behind the three of them. The father, she figured. 

Riley marveled at the chubby blonde boy’s face, frozen in permanent happiness, big brown eyes so innocent and endearing. She lifted a finger absentmindedly, eager to touch the family portrait.

As her skin neared the cool glass, cased between the frame, a deep, gravely voice spoke, like a ghost in the shadows:

“I was 8. Tommy was still a little lad.” 

She startled, eyes snapping back to him, gripping the towel closer to her frame.

“I was looking for you.” She muttered, as a form of apology, but he didn’t seem even remotely upset.

“Just fixed your shower.” He lifted her apartment keys, turning on a small lamp and stepping closer, setting them down on top of the dresser.

“Did you check on Milo?”

“‘Course. Big geezer. Sleeping on your pillow.” Simon kept a respectful distance, but frowned at her bare feet on the cold floors.

“I forgot to ask you for my clothes.”

“Thought about’it. Didn't wanna touch your stuff without your permission, though.” He shrugged apologetically before pointing at his dresser. “Make yourself at home, take whatever you need.”

Riley turned away from his gaze shyly, looking over her shoulder at his room.

“Your bed is huge.”

“I’m a big man.”

“That you are.” Her eyebrow rose in delight as she quickly looked him up and down, and Simon didn’t miss the mischievous glint in her eyes at the double meaning of her words.

He blushed, trying his best to keep his eyes on her face, taking the initiative to pick warm, comfortable clothes for her to wear.

“Your mother is beautiful.” She spoke softly, careful of what her words might trigger.

Simon froze, silent for a whole minute, before he replied:

“That she was.” His heart ached at the thought, but Riley’s presence seemed to somewhat soothe the deep, unforgiving pain of grief. 

She went quiet, afraid she had overstepped some unspoken boundary, but Simon was quick to dismiss it as he passed her a pair of thick woolen socks.

“Put those on, before you catch yourself a cold.” 

“You know…I didn’t expect you to own face wash.” She tried to change the subject as she sat on his bed, dismissing his command.

Simon turned, offended.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know…big, broody, mysterious guy…just didn’t seem like the type to worry about skin care.” She shrugged, teasing him.

“I’ll let you know I have wonderful skin.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Who taught you about skin care?” Riley leaned back on her arms, less worried about holding the towel as she relaxed further into his bed.

“Why? You jealous?” 

She pressed her lips into a thin line.

“Maybe.”

“Hm.” Simon stepped closer, slowly kneeling in front of her bare legs. Her heart skipped a beat as his calloused fingers casually wrapped around her cold ankles, grabbing the socks and pulling them gently over each of her feet. 

“I’m not the one going on dates.” He fired back, and she felt her cheeks heat at the accusation, removing a foot from his grasp.

“Never thought it’d bother you.” 

“Never said it did.” He countered, heavy gaze challenging hers.

“Well, did it?”

“Did it what?”

“Bother you?”

He cocked his head to the right, considering his next words carefully. He was about to stand up, but she pressed her foot into his shoulder, holding him down. Simon’s breath quickened at the bold gesture, fingers digging deeper into her calf, teetering on the edge of self control.

“You’re a single woman.” He grumbled, noncommittally. “You’re free to do whatever you please.”

“That right?”

“Of course.”

“What if I want to do you?”

The tension between the two only deepened as she leaned forward, chest heaving under that damn towel he couldn’t wait to get rid of.

“Choices have consequences.” He muttered, gaze unfaltering as he gently grabbed her ankle and slowly lowered it from his shoulder. Instead, he yanked it forward, pulling the young woman closer to the edge of his mattress. If he so much as looked down he would have the perfect view of her naked sex, kneeling there so menacingly between her parted knees. His eyes, however, wouldn’t leave hers as he awaited for her next move.

Riley’s breath caught in her throat as she quickly held the towel against her breasts, legs trembling slightly. Goosebumps littered her skin as she bit her lip, considering his words.

“I want you.” She whispered, as if afraid the words would force him to retreat and hide behind his cold and detached demeanor. “I don’t care about anything else.”

“You should.” He leaned closer, fingers trailing up her calves and the back of her knees. “There’s lots of things you don’t know about me.”

She cradled his face carefully, looking down into his eyes so adoringly Simon felt his heart skip a beat. And then her fingers were hooked on the sides of his mask, pulling it down ever so carefully. He saw her hold her breath in anticipation.

A strong nose, probably broken one too many times, Riley noticed as she traced the small bump with her pointer finger. A massive scar that went all the way from his left ear to the underside of his chin, splitting the side of his chapped lips in a pinkish and white trail of skin. She felt her hand tremble as she softly grazed it with her nail, feeling his fingers gripping her legs tighter. Her thumbs caressed the sides of his stubbled, strong jaw as she admired his features in a trance.

“Then tell me.” She begged, face so close to his they were sharing avid breaths.

“For starters” His dark brown eyes finally moved down to her lips, incapable of facing her potential judgment “I’m 35 and I ain’t never been in a serious relationship. Not that there haven’t been any deserving women. I just thought they deserved better than me.”

Riley opened her mouth to speak, but he shushed her with a gentle finger to the lips, silently willing her to listen.

“Don’t have much of an education either. After I was done with school I was a butcher’s apprentice, and then I joined the army. All I was ever good for was a night of quick fun. No strings attached.” Simon admitted, large hands now back on her legs, rubbing soothing circles on the cooling skin.

“I don’t care.” She whispered, joining her forehead to his, fingers delving into his blonde locks.

“You’re not listening.”

“I am! I just-”

“I’ve killed people, Riley.”

Simon could physically feel the change in demeanor. He expected it. He noticed how her shoulders slouched, how dozens of questions flashed through her mind and her fiery persistence was considerably doused when faced with reality. People always preferred to ignore what being a soldier actually meant.

“I’m damn good at what I do.” Her fingers tightened in his scalp. “And my performance solely relies on the premise that I have nothing to lose. If I allow myself to indulge in this, as much as I’d love to - and trust me, I fuckin’ want to - I won’t be able to keep doin’ my job. And the job is all I know, all I’ve ever had.”

A long minute of silence ensued, their foreheads still joined together.

Simon’s stomach twisted with anxiety, and he could feel cold sweat starting to bead on his back. He was trying to mentally prepare for her rejection, but he realized he couldn’t. He had never cared this much about anyone before.

What he wasn’t expecting was the feel of her soft, tentative lips pressed against his own, cold on warm skin as her fingers locked him into place in a determined kiss. Simon groaned into her mouth, blood immediately rushing down as her tongue slowly explored his parted lips, fingers pulling on his scalp.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t fight it any longer as Riley pulled him impossibly close, hands descending into the hem of his hoodie and tentatively roaming under the fabric. She sighed contently into his lips, feeling the firm muscle and the soft trail of hair she was so eager to explore.

She gasped, tilting her head back as his warm lips moved to her neck, calloused hands secured around her thighs, kneading the flesh slowly. With eyes shut, thoughts lost in the bliss of finally feeling his tender touch, Riley pulled down the towel, baring her round breasts and letting it pool on her navel.

Simon’s lustful gaze darkened, descending his trail of wet kisses all the way down to her collarbone, lovebites marked upon her cooling skin as his hand reached up to knead her tit.

“You sure about this?” he murmured against her skin.

“Are you gonna make me beg?” She sighed deeply in pleasure as his thumb and pointer finger rolled her peaked nipple carefully. He licked a long stripe between the valley of her breasts, humming softly with eyes shut as if he was savoring her taste, before his lips left sloppy kisses along her other mound.

“Maybe.” He teased, tongue darting out to circle her left nipple, wetting it for a few seconds before retreating as soon as he felt her fisting the comforter, a strangled moan barely having left her pretty lips. “I think I’d enjoy the sound of that.”

“Simon, please…”She whispered as he licked the other one, this time for longer, before suckling on it, a deep groan rumbling in his chest.

“I was right, I do enjoy it.” He taunted before sucking her tits patiently, and agonizingly slow.

Riley trembled under his touch, trying not to seem too desperate as warm slick pooled between her naked thighs, fingers tangling in his scalp and pulling roughly as he reached a particularly sensitive spot that made her walls clench.

“Fuck” She moaned as his mouth parted from her chest, thumbs rubbing circles on her nipples, coated in his saliva. “Please…”

“Please what, love?” She sighed in desperate frustration, grinding her hips into the air when he pinched her sensitive skin.

“I need more.” She pawed at his hoodie, trying to pull it over his head.

“Greedy little thing.” Simon rumbled as he helped her strip his torso, a mass of muscle, scars and tattoos that left her breathless as her hands eagerly reached for his abdomen. But Simon wasn’t done yet, palm pressing against her chest, softly coaxing her to lay back down on the mattress.

“Simon…”

“Hm.” He grunted, lips already pressed into her inner thigh as he lifted her knees, placing her calves on each of his shoulders. He felt her legs tremble uncontrollably as he removed the towel from her lower body at once, exposing her glistening cunt, and making his half-hard cock twitch in his briefs.

“You don’t have to” She muttered as he sucked a hickey into her supple flesh, nearing the apex of her thighs, stubble tickling her sensitive skin. Riley’s fingers dug into the comforter, eyes shut in anticipation and nervousness as she felt his open mouthed kisses almost reach her folds.

“Don’ worry, love. This will be the best meal you’ll ever serve me.” She smiled shyly, cheeks heating at his gravely words.

Simon stuck out his tongue, but instead of placing it where she needed him most, he gave a series of slow, calculated licks to the delicate skin right next to her folds, as if he mimicked what he would do to her bundle of nerves in a few seconds. Riley whimpered at the tease, trying to wiggle her hips to reposition them under his mouth, but his hands held her down firmly.

“Where were we?”

“Huh?” She groaned in frustration, and he chuckled against her skin.

“With the begging.”

“Simon!” She whined as he licked around her folds once again, humming contently as he avoided the center of her sex. “Please!”

“Please what?”

“Please, eat me out!” She sighed deeply, cheeks bright red at the filthy words, but the embarrassment was quickly forgotten as he placed a delicate kiss on her clit, slowly building it up with languid movements of his tongue, side to side, as if he was making out with her cunt.

Riley let out a strangled moan, slack jawed and back arching from the bed as he carefully kissed, licked, and sucked on her soaked folds, tongue circling the small bud expertly, before moving down and teasing her entrance. Her hand reached down blindly, and he was quick to hold it with his own, fingers interlacing as he lapped at her sex hungrily.

The young woman was burning up under his touch, breath quickening too soon, too easily, and she felt embarrassed at how fast she’d crumble if he kept up his ministrations.

“Simon..”A warning.

“Hm.” He grunted into her, lost in her pleasure before he aimed his tongue lower and licked her from hole to hole, and then hole to hole to clit.

“Oh fuck.” She moaned loudly, and he hummed in approval, repeating the action again and again until he felt her tightening her grip on his hand, the other hand firmly gripping his locks.

“Please.” She begged, and he couldn’t refuse, using his thumb to collect the wetness at her entrance and sinking it into her tight hole slowly.

“I’m gonna cum.” Her voice broke, chest heaving.

“I know.” He latched his mouth onto her swollen clit, tongue gliding on it from side to side in quick movements as his calloused thumb slowly massaged her inside.

The pleasure blinded her as she reached her peak. The way her whole body trembled at once, toes curling and breath caught in her throat, back arched as she fisted his hair painfully tight. Simon didn’t care, he didn’t stop for one second, even when his tongue began cramping.

At last, Riley grabbed his shoulders, still panting as she reached for him, and he made an effort to get off his knees.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He groaned as his joints popped painfully.

She was already grinning and giggling as he held her gaze.

“Not a word, kid.” He warned and she laughed even harder, reaching her arms up for him to join her.

Simon pulled down his sweatpants and briefs, rock hard cock springing free before he carefully placed his body on top of hers, forearms bracing his weight.

“Hello, love.” He kissed her nose tenderly, before kissing her cheeks, her chin and her forehead, as she had once done to him on that drunken night. She smiled happily, before pulling him in for a passionate kiss that tasted like her pleasure, legs spread to accommodate him.

“Hello, Lieutenant.” She teased and he nibbled on the side of her neck playfully, making her giggle. “Getting a little too old to stay on your knees for so long?”

“I didn’ hear ya complainin’ two minutes ago.” He taunted, hands rubbing the sides of her thighs as her nails grazed his muscled back. 

“Fair enough.” She reached down between their bodies, pumping his thick cock with a lustful gaze.

“Still up for it, love?” Simon tried to not act as eager as he felt, so close to his peak that he’d be lucky if he gave her three good pumps.

“Get inside of me.” She commanded firmly, spreading further.

“Yes m’am.” 

Simon Riley obeyed, always good at following orders. 

He rubbed his leaking tip on her sensitive clit, eliciting a low moan from her pretty lips, before trying to sink it in slowly.

“Bloody hell…you’re so tight.” He groaned into her ear, stopping slightly as he heard her hiss in pain at the stretch of his thick shaft.

 “You okay, love?”

“It hurts…” She whispered, legs trembling at the intrusion once he penetrated a few inches deeper deeper. “It’s okay, I’ll get used to it.”

“If you need to stop, we stop, yeah? No questions asked.” He reassured, kissing her sweaty brow.

“Please don’t stop.” She begged, readjusting her hips for a smoother entrance.

Simon kissed her neck tenderly, letting his cock sink into her wet heat a little deeper, feeling her breath quicken with his own.

“Relax, love. It’ll make it easier.” He coaxed into her ear, feeling her nod against his skin as her body slowly loosened up under him.

He began a series of shallow thrusts, working his way inside her tight hole inch by inch, feeling his meaty length get progressively wetter, movements becoming sloppier as he finally bottomed out, the sound of skin slapping on skin almost drowning out their moans.

“Oh. My. God.” She whimpered in between thrusts, Simon’s pace quicking as he felt her moving past the pain and into that fucked out expression he had dreamt of seeing so many nights.

“If you keep moaning like that, this is gonna be over sooner than expected, sweetheart.” He panted, body now slamming forcefully into hers, her tits bouncing with each rut of his hips.

“I hope your pullout game is good” She blurted out, eyes rolling back as he hit a lovely spot inside her walls, wrapping her legs around his hips.

“Yeah, princess, me too.” 

Simon couldn’t take it anymore. Her breathy moans, the headboard slamming, his heavy sack sticking to her sweaty skin each time he moved, the tight grip of her walls around his fat cock and the vulgarity of her spread legs were sending him spiraling.

But it was the adoring way in which she looked at him, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him intensely, before looking at him with hazy eyes and uttering the four most terrifying words he had ever heard, that made him shoot a load inside of her.

“I love you, Simon.”

Fuck. 

He came apart.

A/N: You guys already know the drill...so sorry for taking forever to post! As always I love your feedback, messages and asks, so please keep them coming <3

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