#wait I think mind's nails might be the ones painted black fuck

[demonclo]

Doodles :)

[rvp32]

Possessive Love- Jennie Kim

not proofread, might contain spelling mistakes, and even bad grammar. Please forgive those but enjoy the story. Also posted this in light of her new comeback. Enjoy!

As the door to your luxury penthouse opens, you wait for the small figure to walk inside.

"I'm home…that party was a lot- I'm ready to relax!" A voice cries out cutely.

Except she didn't hear a reply back. Looking up, she sees you glaring a cold stare at her.

"What happened? Aren't you happy that I am here?" Jennie questions as she slowly walks toward you after taking off her heels

"What the fuck are you wearing? You wore that kind of outfit in public? At a party no less where everyone was ogling you?" You bark at her.

"Nobody was doing anything! I wore it because it was sexy. Why? do you not like it?" Jennie says, knowing very well you didn't but she still wanted to see how jealous you got

You glare your eyes at her even more.

"Too sexy. That is the problem."

Jennie rolls her eyes. "I can wear what I want. I'll do whatever I want!" She rebuts.

That pushes you over the edge, rationality completely leaving your mind!

You grab Jennie’s neck and pull her closer, tightening your grip around her neck.

"No you don't. You are mine! and you will only wear what I deem good enough for you! Just because you are the "CEO" of your company doesn't mean you can do what you want. You know I am the reason you hold that position right," You ask. Pulling her close enough to feel her breath on your lips

Your lips are on her in an instant and you roughly have your other hand touching her chest.

"I know your feet are sore from those heels. You did all this shit on purpose didn't you?" As you continue to kiss her, you drag her, walking backward to the sofa. Plopping down, you break the kiss and stare deep into her eyes.

"Baby girl…go sit on the other end of the sofa and get Daddy's cock nice and hard with those pretty feet of yours."

"Yes, I did this on purpose, given how busy you have been. I needed to pull something like this to finally get you to myself," Jennie says as she settles down on the other side of the sofa.

Jennie's feet slowly rub your clothed cock. Those pretty nails painted completely in matte black looked perfect rubbing your cock "Baby girl…you know you're one of my favorite sluts…I don't give keys to any of the mansions or penthouses to just anyone…it's a very short list.."

But Jennie slowly drags her toes across your pants, letting you feel her nails scratching just a bit. She pouts seductively.

"Suzy…Jisoo, Rosie…Naeun…Tzuyu…Seolhyun..Irene…" She begins to rattle off names.

You grasp her ankles and hold them down to keep the pressure on your cock. "Shut up. Don't waste your time thinking about them…Daddy is with you now princess so get to work."

"Show daddy what he has been missing? Show me why I should have you around me 24/7!" You say, hoping to get Jennie's competitive nature out.

It does, she immediately pulls your pants down and wraps her feet around your cock pumping it hard and fast

"Does daddy like my feet? do they feel good? None of the other sluts can ever use their feet as good as me can they now Daddy?" Jennie asks

You withhold a moan. She got aggressive right away…good…

"Mhmm..baby girl..you know Jisoo and Rosie…have some of my faves-"

But Jennie keeps pumping and then takes her left foot and scrunches her toes at your tip. Her right foot scrapes along your shaft but she then tries to put a part of your cock between her big and middle toe.

"What were you saying, Daddy? Am I getting you hard? Your cum will look so good all over my black polish. And Daddy…my feet are so sore from those heels…I'm sure you'll love the flavor later as you're fucking me…"

"Oh someone is jealous!" You tease Jennie, knowing very well that she would take this as provocation.

"I'm not jealous, I'm just speaking the truth," Jennie says as she continues to work your cock with her feet, occasionally playing with the tip. She knew how much you loved footjobs and she was taking full advantage of it.

"Fuck, princess your feet feel so good around my cock" You moan, you didn't want to boost her ego but she was in fact making you feel amazing right now

Jennie smirks and brings her feet together again on either side of your cock, rubbing her soles furiously up and down your hard mast.

"Tell me I'm better than them…no..I want Rosie and Jisoo to hear it…I'm the best right?" She says taking out her phone and hitting record.

"Quite the feisty little one aren't you? Do you really think you are better than them? And what if I tell them that? Don't you think they would barge in immediately and take away your personal time with me?" You question her. Hoping she would stop her call.

Jennie pauses for a moment but makes the call anyway, first to Rosie.

You narrow your eyes at the bratty girl but you know you'd turn this on her soon.

"That wasn't your brightest idea princess, You are going to regret calling Rose especially in the situation that we are currently in," You say to Jennie as she continues to play with your cock.

Rosie picks up the call.

"Hi! What's up?" She says, her Aussie accent like honey.

Jennie smirks. "I just wanted to call you because I'm with Daddy right now…" She says in a teasing manner.

"And you thought of calling me now? Tell me where you guys are. So we can have a nice conversation in person," Rose says catching on to what Jennie was trying to do

Jennie sticks her tongue out.

"No. I have him all to myself…I'm giving him a footjob, better than anything you've ever done."

Rosie rolled her eyes, now seeing what this call was really about.

"Yeah yeah, keep believing that. I know for sure that my footjobs are a 100 times better than yours," Rose says, infuriating Jennie

Rosie presses on.

"I'm his favorite for feet if not one of his..maybe Jisoo and Suzy too…he has lots…I know what he likes…why do you think I show mine off so much, especially with white polish? Yours are smaller and stubbier…there is no way you could beat me…"

"Fuck you bitch, your just jealous that his cock isn't in between your feet. I have him squirming under my feet right now all while you get nothing," Jennie fires back.

As Jennie continues to stroke your cock, you get an alert on your phone about the new photos and magazine release and you frown.

You were beyond shocked when you saw those pics. You grab Jennie by her hair and pull her toward you

"What the fuck do you think you have been doing? Why are you going around posing like a slut for these magazines?" You question your blood boiling because of how naughty these pics are.

"I'm done." You quickly get off the couch rummage through a drawer and pull out a collar.

"Collar, now. You need to be punished." You say coldly, leaving no room for argument.

The tone of your voice made it clear that you were angry, and this was beyond what Jennie had expected. She knew you would get angry but now she was in completely unknown territory to her, so she got on her knees in front of you

You stare coldly at her.

"You need to have my permission before shoots like this…to dress like a slut for all to see? What a dirty bitch you are. If what you want is for everyone to see you that way, fine. You're free to go…"

You step forward and stroke her cheek though, looking down at her.

"Or you can be a good girl and know your fucking place…put the collar on and tell Daddy how sorry you are."

Jennie takes the collar from your hand and puts it on. She knew what she did was way beyond what you tolerated and she also knew that if you wanted you could leave her here all hot and bothered and never be allowed to be in the same room as you ever again. Jennie couldn't live without you. Your dick was the only thing that could satisfy her greedy little pussy.

"I am really sorry daddy, I just wanted to get your attention. I didn't think that you would be this angry," Jennie apologizes.

But you knew you had to push her, watch her break.

"Rosie's still on the call…maybe I should just go to her and fuck her brains out…Jisoo too…or any of the other hundreds of girls I could have at my beck and call right now. Tell me how fucking sorry you are. Are you stupid? Are you an attention-seeking whore?"

"I am so fucking sorry Daddy. I have been a dumb bitch. I will never do it again!" Jennie begged, she cut the call and was now on her knees her head near your feet.

You could see her body literally shaking in fear. Fear of you throwing her away and never even thinking about her again. She couldn't fathom the thought of you not filling up her tight pussy all because she wanted to be a whore in a magazine shoot so that you would show her some attention

"Don't look down on the ground! Look at me. What am I to you, Jennie? You could have anyone you want..you could get any dick you want, especially now after these pics. So go then, you can keep the collar but get the fuck out of my apartment. I. Am. Done. With. You."

"NO no! please please forgive me, Daddy. Pleasee I won't ever do this again. Don't make me leave pleasee. I NEED YOU. I don't care about anyone else. I want Daddy only you Daddy all the others are nothing compared to you," Jennie begged, tears spilling out like a broken dam.

The gravity of the situation was beyond what she could handle, she realized the magnitude of what she had done and it was killing her.

"Then you better fucking empty my balls…whatever the fuck I want. You're just my slut to use…so suck my cock better than you ever have in your dirty life."

Hearing this Jennie gets to work, playing and worshipping your cock like never before. The pure fear of you throwing her away showed a side of her that you never thought you would see.

You roll your head back with pleasure.

"Fuck yes, baby girl…prove your worth to your Daddy…fucking choke on it…worship it…" You hold her head in place with one hand and begin thrusting harshly, slamming your tip against her throat's walls.

Jennie takes it well. She was willing to do anything and everything to make sure that you were happy with her again. her tears now flowing due to the big cock down her throat.

"You fucking love this don't you? Being used like the whore you are. That is all that you are to me…Your tears are a result of your insolence.."

You keep bashing your cock inside her mouth. "Just fucking on it all.." You try and push your cock down her throat..your balls hitting her chin and lips and you keep it there, testing how long she could hold her breath.

Jennie slowly began loving it. After her throat had adjusted to the size of your massive cock, she started to enjoy it, her pussy getting wetter than it already was. This was just another signal to you that you could keep going

You had to contain your surprise…she was adjusting? She would be hard to break…but maybe you just needed to break her spirit and heart instead..break her mind…make her unable to live, to think, to even breathe without your touch and cock.

Jennie looked up at you her eyes full of tears but there was a look almost like she was hoping you would compliment and forgive her because of how well she was doing but you knew that this was only the beginning.

"What is that? Are you seeking my approval? Do you think that was good enough? How stupid. Tell me, what good are you to me?"

You say touching her cheek again and brushing her hair, she really was beautiful like this, not that you would ever admit it.

She tries to take your dick out of her mouth to reply to you but you push it back in surprising her all the way down her throat not allowing her to breathe. you pull out by yourself after having your cock in her for a few seconds. Finally giving Jennie some much-needed air

"I didn't tell you to take it out now did I? You only do everything that I tell you to? A pretty little slut like you doesn't need to think. See we ended up in this horrible situation because of you thinking," You say.

"Strip Jennie…strip and lie down on the floor and spread…let me see that dirty pussy…let me see your slutty body on full display only for me.."

"yes, Daddy," is all Jennie says before following your command, She was now lying on the cold hard marbled floor. completely naked, her legs spread open and her pussy visibly drenched.

"you are awfully wet aren't you, for someone who is being punished. Maybe I am being too nice to you" You say.

"I wonder how long you would stay there if I command it..I wonder if you would resist any of my requests? If I wanted to sit on you and choke my cock down your throat? If I wanted to piss all over your body? If I wanted to shove a toy in your cunt and take you to the edge until your mind break…show me your loyalty, baby girl."

"anything daddy. I am willing to do anything for you to forgive my stupidity, please. I just don't want you to throw me away." Jennie begs.

You smirk and decide to test her words…you approach her and gently sit atop her chest. You line up your cock to her mouth and slam down forcefully, making her choke. Your balls hit her chin once again but this time gravity and your floor trapped her helpless body.

"I'm going to fuck your pretty mouth and who knows I might even piss in it." Jennie tries her best to adjust to your roughness and eventually, she does, her eyes gleaming in excitement at the thought of you pissing right down her throat. Seeing as you weren't going to throw her away immediately she was quite happy as this was exactly what she wanted and a little more.

You growl as you thrust harshly against her throat.

"Fucking take it, baby girl..you stupid whore! I want to hear you beg for my cum..for my piss down your throat..fucking beg like a stupid slut!"

The rougher you got the more Jennie responded. Her hands gripping your thighs, not to stop you but to keep you from sliding out of her mouth. Her pussy making a mess on the marble floor. She desperately needed any stimulus but she wasn't getting any

"I know what you want, baby girl…but did you think you wouldn't be punished? No…I'm going to call another slut of my choosing and I'm going to fuck their brains out in front of you. You'll understand how it feels when I see wear those outfits for others."

You can see the panic set in her eyes. She wanted you all to herself. Didn't care about what you were doing to her but she didn't want any other bitch putting her nasty hands on you especially when Jennie was in the same room.

You knew this was the thing she would hate the most…losing…losing you…losing you to someone else…maybe someone younger…someone who had potential…the creeping idea that you could replace her, not with just someone of her caliber like her bandmates, no…someone so much lesser…but who would you call?"

Many options came to your mind, and one of them was Julie. A new idol who was very well-loved and was also hailed as the next Jennie because of her sexy acts on stage. Maybe calling her would send Jennie off the edge completely breaking her. Or natty was also another option, your options were potentially unlimited.

You make a decision and grab your phone, deciding to call Julie.

"I want you here now. I'll send you the address. Get here quickly." You say coldly and then hang up.

Jennie shakes her head, trying to push your cock out of her mouth. To tell you something but you couldn't care about what she had to say

"Did tell you to move?" you ask.

Jennie nods her head.

" then why the fuck are you trying to move?" You ask again, showing her who is in control

You then go grab a couple of items, one was a tiny pill, and the other a vibrator to be inserted.

"I'm going to stuff this in you and turn it on..don't you dare fucking cum and take your pill." You say, forcefully shoving the pill down her throat.

It was something you had developed…those who consumed the pill would have all their senses heightened but it only responded to your scent and your touch. It was the ultimate activation of all their desire and senses, making most of them brain mush for you. Their horniness would be beyond control.

Tears were rolling down her eyes. But she did exactly as you instructed. Taking the pill and waiting for you to put the prepped vibe into her pussy

"Daddy please, I will be a good girl. I will do anything you want. Please just tell whoever you called to go back. Whoever it is, I can be better than them. You know me, right Daddy? Pleaseee," Jennie pleads hoping that you would change your mind before she came.

The pill was already taking its effect on Jennie's body. Her hand slowly tugged her nipple. Her body heated up much more, her pussy creating a puddle much bigger than before.

You smirk and again stroke her face with your hand, but even that simple touch makes her squirt and shriek.

"You must be on fire right now…you desire so me badly right now…your body craves it, is starved for it…good…it will hurt all the more. I think you'll hate who I chose to receive my seed today."

Jennie's body still recovering from something as simple as a touch. Her body felt like it was as hot as the fucking sun and the only thing that was keeping her even the least bit sane was your scent that lingered in the room

"D-daddy, pleaseee. Touch me, Use me, Destroy me. Please," Jennie managed to whisper as she tried her best not to rub her swollen clit.

"Did I even permit you to speak? You'll stay there until I tell you otherwise. Stay on the floor, I want to watch you squirm until she arrives."

Not being able to keep her legs open any more Jennie closes them rubbing her tighs together. Trying her best to quell her thirst for your touch. The fact that you were just sitting her was already driving her crazy. All she could think about was your cock and all the ways you could shove it into her.

You then chuckle and activate the vibrator inside her pussy too, you control its tempo and power, making sure to edge her without letting her cum.

The sudden pleasure provides a small sense of relief from the immense heat inside of her but it soon becomes worse. She was now being tortured both physically and mentally. Her body went into overdrive with all the pleasure and her mind slowly turned into mush.

"Beg..speak baby girl…how are you feeling hmm?"

"It's so hot daddy. my body… My body is burning. I need you Daddy pleasee, it is-"

Jennie wasn't able to finish her sentence as you turned up the vibrator. Her body jerked with the sudden increase in pleasure, she was now grabbing at her tits trying her best not to let her hand near her pussy because all it would take was a single touch and she would come undone.

"This is your punishment baby girl…what's wrong? Don't like the vibrator? Your body is burning thanks to the effects of my toys and yet…you just can't have me."

"hngggh daddy I need you, this vibrator doesn't do anything it is just-" Jennie isn't able to finish the sentence as you increase the intensity.

"You need me? Do you need me? Then why dress like a slut in public for all to see? You break my rules, baby girl…"

"I'm sorry Daddy I am ssooo sorry I won't do it again. So please, please just touch mee!!" Jennie whines.

you grunt as you rush over and yank the vibrator out before shoving my cock inside her pussy without warning and kissing her. Thanks to the special item and now my touch, her body was overwhelmed and her brain was going to be turned into mush.

The pleasure completely overtook her body. her brain could focus on nothing but your cock that was stretching her pussy. It was like finding water in a desert for Jennie. She didn't just want it her body needed this

"Is this what you wanted baby girl? What you needed?" I growl and kiss her and begin to drill into her pussy with abandon.

"Who the fuck owns you? Who owns this pussy? As I slap my balls against her folds and bury my cock inside her walls over and over over.

Jennie couldn't say anything, her brain completely turned to mush with the overbearing pleasure from your cock.

She wanted to answer you, but her brain wasn't able to produce a sensible answer. All that came out of her mouth were mumbles of nonsense in between moans.

"I asked you a question!" I shout as I then pull out my cock from her pussy and don't let it touch her.

"No! no, please put it back in daddy, my pussy, my body, and my everything belongs to Daddy, daddy owns every single inch of my body, it's his to use," Jennie manages to say as her body revolts from the lack of stimulus at her pussy.

You then hammer my cock back into her pussy and kiss her deeply before starting back again roughly. You choke her neck and begin battering her pussy again, making sure your head reached the depths, practically knocking at her walls.

The room is filled with the sound of moans and bodies slapping against each other. The pleasure was just perfect for Jennie, you could see her eyes roll back and her pussy wrapping around your cock tightly almost as if it was trying to hold you in there.

"Never forget who you belong to, baby girl. Never forget who owns this pussy, your holes, who decides what you wear and when. Never forget your place as my cock hungry cumslut!"

"yes yes yes daddy. I belong to you only you. I will do anything and everything you say so please pleasee just keep pounding my pussy Daddy," Jennie screams

I can only focus on the relentless drilling of her cunt, over and over against the sturdy floor…to ruin the mighty and world-class Jennie Kim.

"Take it all…cum for me baby girl."

"Hnghhh fuckkk!" Jennie screams and cums all over your cock. It's like a dam broke, water gushing all over your cock.

"That's my good girl…" Her extra juices only helped me slide into her tight cunt as I chased my own release and merely used her flesh for my desires.

"Fuck fuck fuckk daddy! Too much fuck I'm losing my mind daddy!" Jennie moans

"Too much baby girl? It's never enough baby girl. I decide when it's too much or else I'll just stop right now and I won't empty my seed in you. Do you want your pussy to remain starved? I can give my seed to a different whore. Just shut up and take my cock!"

"no no please I need it! yes Daddy give me your cum please," Jennie moans

"Good!" I grunt and keep slamming into her pussy, deeper, harder, rougher, drilling into her cunt as deep as possible.

"I'm close baby girl…beg for it."

"Yes, Daddy cum in me please! dump all that thick baby batter into my pussy pleasee! Fucking breed me Daddy I need that fucking cum pleasee!!" Jennie screamed as you continued to pound into her

"That's it, baby girl! Yes. I'll breed you. I'll unload into this fucking cunt..this cunt that belongs to me. You dirty whore…what is that song of yours called? Mantra? The only mantra I want to hear is your screams, breed me, Daddy..breed me. I'm your whore. Now say it back!"

"yes breed me please please pleaseee," Jennie's begging was going to send you over the edge soon

It gave me the extra boost I needed as I spear her pussy with more powerful thrusts before erupting..gushing a hot stream of thick white batter..blasting it like a cannon.

"Fuck yes! Take it all baby girl…" You're mine.." I say kissing her lips fiercely before biting at her neck

"FUCKKKK, it's so hot Daddy! It feels so fucking amazing in my belly. you are cumming so much that you might actually breed me," Jennie says

"You'd give it all up for me, wouldn't you princess? Your entire career to be bred by me?"

I ask giving a few more thrusts making sure every drop was deposited in her walls.

"Yes, Daddy I would give up everything for you, all you have to do is say the word and it's done."

"Not yet baby girl, but congrats on your song release…" Just don't go out wearing shit I don't approve of okay?"

"Yes Daddy I won't"

[prael]

Not Quite Home

Kinktember Day 15: Stand & Carry

Kepler Youngeun x male reader smut

words: 1,495 Kinktember Masterlist

She is everything you're not. Everything you hate. How can someone refuse to have a place to call home?

All this about being a free spirit and experiencing everything that the world has to offer all sounds well and good but how is a tree supposed to grow if it has no roots? But Youngeun insists that is exactly what she is after, the constant thrill, the constant novelty, the rush and urgency. In every interaction, she seems to have been in search of the next big adventure.

And you think you do her a disservice by not understanding.

Perhaps if you had met each other under other circumstances, things might have gone better for the two of you. But now, you resent how she feels like a stranger whenever you're together. She once brought an element of excitement and risk to a routine, drab life, but that grew exhausting and more than once made you feel like you were suffocating. You grew to loathe her carelessness.

"Your parents?" You ask as she stands in your bedroom for the third night in a row, "Have you even told them you're back in town?"

She shakes her head in lieu of an answer, "You know how they are."

"You're going to blame them for wanting their daughter to visit for once?"

Youngeun laughs. It's one of your least favourite traits—her incapability to take anything seriously. "Not your business. Besides, seven nights, remember?"

Yes. Seven nights. This is what she told you, another expiry date on another chapter of whatever the fuck this is between you. Another unspoken contract was signed for the hell of it. A time limit, for something that isn't even real.

"Just think about it," you continue, hopelessly, "talking with your family. It'll clear your mind."

"Know what clears my mind? The wind in my hair, sun on my skin, music in my ears," Youngeun runs her hand through her silky hair, "Landing in some new town, finding a new local hang out to try something exotic and then exploring whatever is hidden in that town's history, picking up a new person, hooking up with them, letting the excitement course through my veins, knowing there's always something else waiting on the horizon."

Another insufferable thing that she does. It's been maybe fifteen minutes since you tangled limbs in the bed and now she's standing across the room naked making no secret of the fact that she picks up guys and girls wherever she goes. Youngeun looks down at you on the mattress and runs her eyes up and down your body, her fingers resting lightly over her collarbone.

You follow the line of her fingers, nails cut short with traces of peeled black nail paint. A callus on her finger is a reminder of how often she played the guitar. She runs them down her chest, thumb catching a nipple in the process of doing so.

"Look at you. You get hotter every time I come back." And just like that, Youngeun drops a compliment, casual and effortless and you question who's benefiting from this relationship because it clearly isn't you.

You're gonna fuck her again tonight. Tomorrow too, and another three nights after that. After which she'll be gone for another six months to a year. There's a weird emotional emptiness to this routine—you give and she takes and this is all she asks.

"Come here, will you? Pin me to this wall already. Make me feel you." Her hand cups her breast and another traces its way down her abs, a clear intention.

You should hate her, really. Like how you hate the idea that she left home for no reason or how she wasted her potential, hate her for her indifference, for her recklessness and her cold detachment, or hate the fact that it's just meaningless sex. 

She doesn't like strings, it makes no sense to her how people commit. If she was the type of person who asked to be understood, you would probably try to, but that's never something she ever expressed. 

For all of that, you don't hate her. It's why you're still walking towards her and she's backing up into the wall.

So, what does she ask for? Her answer is pleasure and pain.

She kisses like a raging fire. Everywhere her hands roam leaves marks on your skin; she scratches deep in your back as you hook her thigh up around your waist. A hand between her legs, sliding in without any sort of preamble. She's still dripping wet, though some of that may well be your last load. She tastes of salty, sweaty sex and you relish it. She kisses and she gasps as your fingers work at her entrance; crooking them upward so you can press them into her and rub right against the sensitive spot inside her.

Her tongue slides past yours, hot and wet as she grinds up into your hand, claws digging into your lower back. Your hand fucks into her roughly with reckless abandon and her breathing gets shallow as your fingers bring her closer and closer.

It doesn't take long, she's close, you know that when she throws her head back against the wall. "Stop—wait, fuck—wait," Youngeun barely gasps and then with your name in her throat, the friction of your fingers sends her over the edge. A moan escapes as her mouth falls open, eyes clamp shut as you finger her to orgasm.

It's always been easy to make Youngeun cum, but it never loses its magic. There's something particularly thrilling to the way she moans your name in that honey-laced rasp, to the way her entire body arches upwards as the pleasure mounts. A sharp gasp cuts the air.

Her limbs slacken. She leans her head against the wall. She's struggling to catch her breath.

And this is the fucking problem. For every reason to hate her, there are so many more reasons to enjoy her.

That's when you lift her, hooking up the other thigh and holding her by her tight little ass. Youngeun hisses and she's staring daggers and that's always a part of the fun. She'll give you these looks that could kill a lesser man, but you know the only solution is to pound her into submission.

"Be rough with me. Hard," Youngeun pants, sucking air in, breath ragged. Her skin's hot to the touch.

"Like last time?" Your voice comes low, thick and gruff as you hook her legs higher.

"No, harder, faster," Youngeun replies between rapid, short breaths, she grips your arms, rolls her hips and wraps her body tighter around you, "Want me to stay? Fuck me until I can't walk out."

You're incensed and sliding your length over her slick, warm, inviting heat, before slamming her back into the wall, entering her in one long hard motion and enjoying the way her lips fall apart; enjoying the way her hot and messy, fucked-out body arches upward as you hit deeper and the way her cries pitch. You don't even wait for her to catch her breath before snapping your hips over and over and giving Youngeun exactly the type of pounding that she wants.

There's a sharp gasp. A second of silence and then a choked-back scream. You feel a palm on the nape of your neck and a sting on your shoulders as her nails dig deep and scratch. She rakes them over the broad expanse of your upper back and it fucking hurts. It fucking stings and it's delicious. You bury yourself deep inside her, stretch and fuck her all open on your dick.

"Like that. Yes! Like that! Fucking ruin me."

"Since you asked so nicely."

Her moans become a struggle now that you've run a hand roughly up her body and planted it around her neck. Squeezing, not too hard, not to cut her airflow, not to bruise, but firmly enough that she will feel it and feel that she is being held. She loves to feel hopeless. And there, that's what you like: her hot, sweaty body locked between you and the wall and helpless against you as you sink into her.

And as much as she says it doesn't mean anything. Youngeun cries out your name like it means something.

The ever-familiar suffocating grip of her wet cunt grips you as she cums again. Bodies flushed together, grinding and sweaty.

"I can't breathe—" Youngeun whimpers in that cracked, vulnerable and submissive way and you snarl. Fuck her up as promised. Hurt her like she begs for. And Youngeun loves it like nothing else, absolutely nothing, her eyes rolling to the back of her head and a strangled groan as you reach another climax and fill up her pussy again. You pound yet another load into her tight hole.

As much as she would hate to ever admit it, this is as close to a home as she has in her life.

[lalunanymph]

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐘 — miya osamu

based off this thought i had about atsumu unintentionally hooking his twin up with his future wife skibidi doo bap

I'm g'na kill him when I catch him, Osamu thinks, already coming up with a sure-fire plan to wipe his twin off the face of the earth for humiliating him like this.

And then, I'll go back in time and absorb him from the womb.

Usually, he could take whatever bullshit Tsumu threw his way—but this time, the star setter had gone too far.

Osamu literally feels like he's going to die; hands clammy and mind spinning in circles when he sees your confused expression, his number on a scrap of paper dangling uselessly in between his lax fingers.

"I... I'm sorry, Miya-san. I think you misunderstood..."

Your eyelashes flutter against your cheekbones, pearly white teeth digging into your lower lip as you chew on it in anxiety.

Thank fuck it's almost closing time and none of his regulars are here to see him fumble this badly.

He blinks, retracts his hand, and number with a forced smile, even when he feels like turning around and strangling his brother, who is, of course, dying of silent laughter in the kitchen.

"Ah." He scratches the back of his head, pink dusting apparent on his boyishly handsome face. "I'm sorry for putting you in this position, L/N-san."

Osamu struggles to control his cresting shame, forcing a smile.

"Let me make you a house special as an apology for my forwardness. I'm truly am sorry for putting you in this position."

Before he could turn and retreat back into the kitchen with his tail tuck in between his legs, you call out a high-pitched, "Wait!"

He turns, and doesn't expect your face to warm, eyes darting to the clean counter as you tap your white-painted nails on the lacquered wood.

"Wh-what did the cashier actually tell you, Miya-san?"

"The cashier?"

You nod. "The blonde man. Kinda looks like you. I told him to send the chef my compliments but I think he must've given you a different impression."

Oh. Tsumu.

Osamu tries to grin without baring his teeth too much, and as if knowing his bluff was exposed, Atsumu chokes back his chortles, ducking into the kitchen to hide.

"Ah," Osamu kisses his teeth. He debates not telling you the truth, but since he's already made an ass of himself, he might as well commit to the schtick. "Said to me a babe told him to tell me she thinks I'm hot. S'all."

If it was possible, your face warms even more.

"O-oh. Well... he isn't wrong."

"Yeah, he was really out of line with that—wait, what?"

Osamu backtracks, unsure if he's heard you right.

Your mortification is contagious, especially when you duck your head again and mumble: "He's not wrong, Miya-san." Now, it's your turn to be forward and courageous. "I... I think you're really cute."

The black shirt he has on stretches across his broad pecs, highlighting his muscular build and those deliciously impressive biceps and traps. A simple cap the same color hides his dark hair, and even under the fluorescent lights, no one could deny how much of a looker Miya Osamu is.

Right now, he has a choice: flounder and fumble you, or, take this chance to ask you out.

While he malfunctions with indecision, you remove the burden of choosing from him, reaching forward to grab his number written hastily on a scrap of paper with a small smile.

Still shy, both of you couldn't look the other in the eye, the implications of your actions giving Osamu whiplash.

"O-okay, uh, thanks," his deep, baritone takes on a shade of embarrassment.

In your sundress and pretty smile, you take his breath away as you stand, tucking his number right into your small purse.

"I'll call you then, Miya-san. See you soon."

The second the door closes behind your retreating figure, Atsumu's grating voice pierces through the daze in Osamu's mind like nails running down chalkboard, his face peeking from behind the kitchen door.

"Damn, I can't believe that worked. See Samu? S'wasn't so bad, huh? You finally got a date and I can get you out of this kitch—h-hey Samu—hey! S-Stop—stop chasing me!"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ 🎀 dawn says: haikyuu debut lessgoooo .... rbs and love are very much appreciated <3

©️ intellectual property of lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, claim as your own or change up the sentence structures and characters

[inkrabbit]

Nails hc

Hi, I just got my nails done (press on so nothing fancy) and now I have thoughts for Mary-

If you're lucky enough to get close enough to Mary to where they'll let you touch them, they will always accept you doing their nails

They're pretty still for the most part while you clip and file their nails

They've painted them before, so that's what they're used to

But if you wanna do extra, then they don't mind

Their favorite types are stilettos or coffins. They just think they look good on their fingers

They'll make jokes here and there, engage in conversation, but for the most part, they're just watching you work while they smoke or drink

They prefer black or dark red, but it's not too hard to sucker them into some other colors. They just prefer that the colors stay on the darker side so it'll match their overall look

This is one of the times when you'll actually see them genuinely smile

They've tried to go to nail salons before, but they couldn't handle some stranger holding their hands and twisting their fingers this way and that

They went in with a friend once, actually excited. But then they saw the nail tech doing her job and Mary was just riddled with anxiety, so they ended up just sitting it out

Mary has a hard time expressing joy, so you'll be seeing their gratitude in other ways. Offering you a drink or a cigarette, giving you a quick hug

The most telltale sign that they're happy with the work is that they'll keep looking at their nails and occasionally clicking them together

Don't be surprised if they also start to gently scratch your arm, especially if you give them stilettos

It's your fault that you gave them this power. Now you get to suffer with the consequences of a playful Mary

For the first few hours, Mary will actually be very careful with them

They're mainly seeing how much the nails can take and trying to get used to them

Please help them pick things up until they can figure it out. It might take them a day or two

"Wait, fuck- how am I supposed to play my guitar???"

Will pout about not being able to do things normally, but will also tell you no when you offer to make the nails shorter

[visibun]

Funny note about me suddenly being more openly passionate about lamias:

By default, I have prey brain. Full rabbit mode. I am bnuy. Hop hop wait why are you licking your lips like that

But, like... every very sudden once in a while, I get this "predator brain" impulse. And in those moments, lamias are all that I can think about

I seem to like projecting on the idea of a hybrid kind of lamia, that has the serpentine body of an African bush viper, with the tail ending of a rattlesnake. The human half is brown like me, but with pointed ears, and longer black hair that's either kept loose, or is tied back into a ponytail. The serpentine scaling will most likely extend into her human half; to what extent, I'm not sure just yet, but it might be covering everything up to and including her neck and minus her chest and stomach, leaving just her head/face, chest, and stomach down to her hips covered in human skin. These scales are tough, allowing her to take hard/sharp blows with minimal impact as if she were wearing armor.

She's wearing something light and easy to move in (maybe adjacent to a belly dancer's outfit, in black and antique gold), and is also kitted out with antique golden jewelry for vanity reasons. She's got teeth like a vampire's to showcase the marriage of her human and beast parts (all normal human teeth, but with sharper/more pronounced upper canines; those canines are where her venom flows to, and they don't retract since visible fangs are The Best), slitted golden eyes, a forked tongue, and sharp black nails (she's okay with melee weapons, but her combat preference stays at "hands, claws, and biting, with uncommon constricting").

She's also trans, has a small chest, and has defined/toned abs and arm muscles, of course, since this is me my hard projection that we're talking about. I just want her to have a body that's strong enough to do constricting, if deemed necessary! No thinly-veiled thirst motivations behind this choice at all.

The snake half is more along the lines of the colors/scales of the bush viper here (black scales + alternating black and yellow underbody), plus the rattle tail ending:

She's wearing jewelry on the tail, too, that's tied into the bottom-most notch there, that can be loudly and aggressively jingled about and clashed together as the tail is being shaken. Not sure what kind of jewelry, but something stringed/tasseled comes to mind.

She's long as fuck, by the way. To the song and dance of this visual:

Which, when laid out more accurately, looks like this:

So, like... picture this. If you will.

The enemy or target's been spotted, and now she's rearing up nice and horribly tall while hissing and bearing those sharp claws and teeth, all while there's a mix of heavy and rapid rattling and loud metal scraping and clanging behind her that all together are disheartening, distracting, and disorienting for whoever is standing in front of her, but is practically like a heart-racing and blood-pumping hybrid war song and battle cry to her for what's about to happen next. All the while, her eyes are locked on theirs, and she's got that confident, ruthless grin painted on her face, as if this fight was set to be the high point of her day.

And, because I exist for music, she fights to this song. Or, this song. I often choose either one of these two songs for exercising with kickboxing (to the point where I manually extended both of them to play on a nonstop loop for an hour, just so they last for the whole routine), so they always gets my blood rushing by default. And, with that scene description up there, it'd feel more like you're fighting a dragon rather than a serpent.

Do you get it. Do you see what I'm putting out there. Being a bunnygirl is nice and all, but I very badly want to be her, too. If I could draw, I would absolutely detail this as a sona for myself. But, at this rate, I might end up feeling enticed enough to just try and doodle her, anyway.

[purplesurveys]

1791

When was the last time you felt exhausted? Last night.

....and why did/do you feel that way? Well, it was New Year's. It didn't help that I had New Year's Eve work since my client is one of the handful of bodies organizing a major public countdown event so I had to be there for a bit; then I had to Fast and the Furious my way back home in the evening to make it to the NYE mass + my family's media noche. Then I had like 10 glasses of wine and did a ton of karaoke...I don't even remember at what point I fell asleep haha. Next thing I knew I was waking up at 10 AM.

How often do you feel exhausted? Pretty much everyday. My job is taxing when it comes to creativity and idea-generating.

What are three things you like about Instagram? I like the interface they have for the reels. It's also nice that small businesses have found a home in Instagram, so it makes access to food beyond the big franchises very accessible. I'd say those two are my favorite parts; I'm not the type to identify things I like about social media platforms as at the end of the day they're all the same.

What have you found to be the cruelest thing about growing up? You can do absolutely everything but if you get dealt a bad hand things can always fall apart at any second and out of your control.

When was the last time you went trick-or-treating? 🎃 I can't remember if I was 16 or 17 but it was definitely when I was in high school. My friends and I gathered at Chelsea's place then we went around the neighborhood for candies; I went as Sofie.

Which do you think is scarier: change or staying the same? Depends on what kind of situation we're talking about. Things aren't black or white in this context.

Would you rather go on vacation to Florida or California? And why did you choose that state? California. I'm not interested in either state but I feel like I'd be more at a loss on what I could do or where I could visit in Florida. Also isn't Florida kind of conservative? I might go crazy in there.

Can you believe that in three months it will be October already? I'm answering this from January, but I mean yes in general it is crazy how fast years go by.

In life, do you feel like you are winning or failing? Why so? I'm definitely winning. In the grand scheme of things I have a good job that I just happen to be increasingly miserable in, and in my personal life I'm relatively privileged. I just feel directionless at the moment, but I refuse to think that that means I'm failing.

Have you ever taken a selfie inside of a doctor's office? That is very specific haha. Yes I have actually! I took a few selfies when I was waiting to get treated for my dog bite because I partly also found it hilarious that I found myself in such a situation. My nose and lips were completely fucked.

What is your favorite season, and what are three reasons why it is your favorite season? Idk, I can never relate when it comes to these season questions. 

Are you good at painting your nails? 💅 Not at all. My hands aren't stable and I'm always either missing spots or painting beyond my nails.

Do you have a lot of regrets from your past? Yup, small regrets here and there. I don't have any major regrets, like the type I would lose sleep over.

What is one biblical command that you often have trouble obeying? Not believing in the Bible.

What do you do when you're feeling overwhelmed? I allow myself the time to first ignore the Thing that's overwhelming me, so I can get back to it once my mind is a little bit more clearer.

Do you prefer sun or rain? Rain.

Would you say you are more creative or logical? Logical.

How often do you pray? 🙏 Never.

What is the closest thing to you right now that is blue? My Koya bedroom slippers.

What was the last hot beverage you drank? My favorite hot chocolate from La Creperie.

What is your favorite thing that you've done so far this summer? Flew to Thailand to see Yoongi.

[aureatemedusa]

Rainy Day Mutuals // @drcxmlcss

"Coward would be an understatement," Quackity's eyes closed with her scoff, distaste apparent down to imaginary hackles raised in disgust, "If you're going to talk shit, talk shit face to face, pinche pendejo." Alex opened her eyes again to finish off her conversation to the sky, words not intended for Dream but rather an enemy neither of them could see. Pupils dilating and constricting to readjust to the lighting once more, Quackity braced her hands on her hips. Black-painted nails dipped into the fabric of her pencil skirt like claws — she often used them as such, so she felt it was ample comparison. 

Confident and now facing Dream head-on, Quackity knew the twinkle on Dream's countenance came from a certain someone's name. Hibernation? Well, that was one way to put it. Alex would have phrased it as "curling up in a hole to die," but hibernation would do. She could never reserve herself to her bed for that long, not since she began her business and not since she had no one to wait on. Laying around doing nothing was more stressful than working away until her wrists ached and her back was sore, especially when the weather was oppressive. Quackity wanted something to do other than just sitting around like... well, a duck. Meeting Dream was much better, and their conversation thus far had been dotted with yellows and oranges of amusement and curiosity — who was she to say she'd rather be hibernating than annoying a streamer she watched on and off for mindnumbing entertainment?

"How do you determine if it's malicious or not, Mr. I'm totally not doing something illegal?" Quackity raised an eyebrow, trying — and failing — to hold back laughter at Dream's piss-poor attempt at innocence. As if to mock him, she, too, bats her eyelashes between snickers, going one step further as to lean her chin against her open palm and pout, "Oh, you would never, huh? I think you're full of it."

Wild Card. Quackity's eyebrows shoot up, mouth parting as if to repeat the words with no breath behind them. It was a new one, that's for sure, but not unwelcome. She had to give it to him for creativity. Only some people dared to put nicknames in place that early, especially without inkling if someone likes them. A part of Alex wanted to be stubborn and stand firm in denying such closeness, but another part — quite frankly, the louder part — told her it wasn't a battle she should pick. Stubborn, witty comebacks would join the fray if a fuss were thrown about an interesting nickname. Maybe she didn't even need to be headstrong when she could be petty.

The young woman's lips pulled to the side, faintly resembling a fox with slim features and an almost evil tint over pretty brown eyes, "Hm. I don't know. You'll be curious for a while, Dream. Maybe you can ask Techno? I'm sure xe will enlighten you. Make this a whole friend hunt!"

Persistence was critical, and Alex was over the moon to hold this little facet of control over the blonde's mind. Regardless of whether the two never talked again or were restricted to streamer and "chat," Quackity knew he'd have that itch in the back of his mind dying to know what her name was. It was the curiosity that had people lying awake at night several weeks later, asking themselves what the answer was. Dream seemed the type to need answers; too bad Quackity had no plans of supplying any time soon. He would have to suffer and hunt for their hibernating mutual just for a hint, but even then, she was sure Techno might want to fuck with him, too. Birds of a feather, as the saying goes.

Alex ruffled a hand through her hair, letting the dampened strands bounce in unruly curls and knots. She never sat still; that much was clear. Her hands had to be moving; her feet had to be tapping — all to the beat of raindrops splattering against the roof and crashing against windows. "Wild Card, though," Quackity mused, more soft and introspective than cunning or reckless, "I've gotta say, that's a new one. I think it'll stick until it gets annoying." The last out-of-the-box nickname given to her had stuck for several years, even becoming a part of her identity — however, Alex doubted she'd suddenly change from Quackity to Wild Card. It just didn't have the same ring to it.

After a moment's beat, she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and slumped back to rest her hipbone against the side of the lab tables. Her eyes fell heavy-lidded, shadowed by dim lighting and intrigue — there was no option to escape further questioning. She wanted to know more about the famous Dream, particularly why he was around Achilles when they'd never met. "Aye, hermano, when did you and Techno meet? How often do you hang out? I don't think we've ever gotten the pleasure of meeting before this — that's gotta be a crime somewhere in the world. Trying to find a slimy gossip girl's IP in a barely used computer lab during a thunderstorm sounds like a horror movie meetup. Or... some poetic Shakespearean modern adaptation to something, I don't know."

Rainy Day Mutuals // thread with @aureatemedusa

It’s clear she’s curious. Dream watches, scanning her features quizzically as she does the same to him. He notes everything: her hair, her smile, her eyes. That’s the thing that gets him, really. They say eyes are windows to the soul, and while this is the case for most people, he can’t say the same is true here. No matter how deeply he looks into spiraling chestnut hues, he comes out empty-handed.

She’s good. Really good. Admirably good. He compares her, in his head, to a wild card. A clever poker face that could not be broken through, yet beneath it, spontaneity lies.

Dream feels Wild Card’s presence grow closer even as he observes his screen. The dull glow it provides feels fitting for the atmosphere here, considering what he’s been doing. For some reason, though, he wishes the overhead lights were on. Fluorescent bulbs may flicker, but they’d illuminate his peer much more clearly. He’s not sure why he’s so intrigued by her presence. Any other nameless student wouldn’t be given the same level of acknowledgment.

“Yeah, that’s the gist of it,” he admits. He plans to continue — to elaborate on his reasoning behind all this — but Wild Card leans in. Her hand sets by the keyboard as her hair shifts to frame her face. Close. He loses a bit of his composure for a moment, eyes widening ever so slightly. It doesn’t last. He refuses to let it. Gathering himself, he ignores the heat brought by their proximity and hums instead. “They’re just a coward at this point, hiding behind a screen and refusing to assert the same things in person.”

If someone’s going to gossip, they should do so publicly. Otherwise, it’s pathetic. They’re afraid of the consequences of their actions. At the very least, they should own up to what they say. If they don’t have the guts for that, they need to stay silent. Not only is it timorous, but it shows the blog’s author doesn’t believe enough in what they’re posting to take risks. In that sense… who should believe them in turn?

Anyone can claim whatever they want on the internet. It’s a different thing entirely to claim things without confidence — to speak for the sake of speaking. Every word must have a purpose. Meaning. Justification. Else, what’s the point? It’d be better to keep quiet. And that was precisely what Dream hoped to do. They should shut up. One way or another, he’ll make them.

When Wild Card looks to him again, Dream conceals surprise at the sudden joke with a nod. “Ah, I see. Of course,” he replies, amusement alit on the tip of his tongue. Every word is tinted yellow, full of intrigue and humor alike. He thinks most people would’ve furrowed their brows in confusion at such a comment. For him, though, he merely beams. The whole exchange is proving to be entertaining, and he’s happy for that.

As the truth reveals itself, recognition lights up Dream’s eyes. Techno, huh? This is another one of their friends? He makes a mental note to inquire about her to xem later, when he sees xem again. “Yeah, Techno’s been hibernating since the storm started. I haven’t seen them here in a few days.” A casual remark, but one that proves he knows who she’s talking about.

The guess at his identity isn’t alarming, and Dream smiles at it. She’s seen his streams? Would that make her a fan? He nods at her pride-fueled grin. “That’s me.” He turns away from the screen fully this time, shifting in the chair. “And hey, technically it isn’t doxxing if I keep their information private. Tracing someone’s IP address is legal, too, as long as I’m not using it maliciously.” He bats his eyes a few times, lashes fluttering in feigned innocence. “I would never.”

This brings him, though, back to his earlier interest. He observes her thoughtfully for another moment, then shrugs. “So, do I get to know your name now too, Wild Card?” he asks, applying the nickname without hesitation. “You’ve got me curious. I don’t meet fellow Techno Friends very often.”

[bordemm]

𝑉𝐴𝑁𝐼𝑇𝑌 (𝐷𝐴𝐼𝐶𝐻𝐼 𝑆𝐴𝑊𝐴𝑀𝑈𝑅𝐴)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴅɪʟғ! ᴅᴀɪᴄʜɪ, ᴀɢᴇ ɢᴀᴘ (ᴅᴀɪᴄʜɪ ɪs 42 ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪs 19), ᴘʀᴀɪsᴇ? ᴍɪʟᴅ ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴅɪɴɢ, ʙʀᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ, ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇs(ᴀɴɢᴇʟ,ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴏɴᴇ) ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ ᴋɪɴᴋ, ʜᴀʀᴅʟʏ ᴇᴅɪᴛᴇᴅ ʟᴍᴋ ɪғ ɪ ᴍɪssᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏ

ᴅᴀɪᴄʜɪ x ғᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴀsᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏᴄᴀʟ ʜᴏᴍᴇ ᴅᴇᴘᴏᴛ ᴅɪʟғ ғᴏʀ ʜᴇʟᴘ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2,084

ɴsғᴡ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜᴛ

You slipped out of your car, locking it with a final beep as you made your way to the entrance of the home depot. You pulled out your phone, staring intently at the wiki how in front of you, the instruction in big, bold letters.

‘How to build your own vanity

It should be simple enough. Frankly, you weren’t in any position to buy yourself a vanity, so you settled for the next best thing, building it yourself. You gazed up at the aisle names looking for the right one. You knew how out of place you looked here. If your tiny little skirt and even smaller shirt weren’t a sign you had no idea what you were doing, the confused look on your face was more than enough to let the others around you know. You walked down the lumber aisle, dwarfing under the tall shelves as you look for a 4x4 plank of wood. What the fuck was a 4x4? You bit your lip, bending forward to get a closer look at all the names on the items on the self, trying to figure it out yourself, too stubborn and hardheaded to ask for help.

Daichi walked down the aisle, his eyes meeting your hunched-over body as your big innocent eyes scanned the shelves. You looked...confused, and well, Daichi is a nice man, and what kind of man would he be if he let a sweet little thing like you wander around this giant store confused.

“Excuse ma’am, do you need help?” he asked, making you jolt a little, gazing up at the man in front of you. He was big. His muscles were strained under the tight material of his black shirt. The veins in his arms bulging under his skin. His broad shoulders hid you from the view of anyone that would walk down this aisle.

“O-oh, I am, yes, please,” you confessed with a defeated sigh making the older man chuckled as he ran a big hand through his hair, the snow grey hair peeking out at the roots.

“Alright then, what are you trying to do?” he asked, towering behind you, looking at the same shelves with a small smile.

“I’m trying to build my own vanity,” you said, pulling out your phone showing him the website that gave you all the materials and instructions that you would need to make it. He nodded in understanding before pulling his cart towards you two putting wood in there.

As you two gathered all the materials needed to make your own vanity you made idle chit chat, you came to learn a lot about the older man, he was a single divorced father with a 16-year-old son, three years younger than you.

“Not to be rude Mister but how old are you?” you asked as you two walked side by side in the isle

“42” he said and you simply nodded slowly ignoring the way your cunt was drooling at the older man, he was sweet and so polite. He had crows feet and deep smile lines around his lips, he didn’t look 42, but you could tell he is definitely older.

Daichi saw the way you were looking at him. Saw how your mouth practically water every time he would reach up to grab something, your eyes flying down to gawk at his happy trail. He couldn’t deny you were pretty so sweet and shy listening intently to all the tips he was giving you on how you could build this little vanity and even offering to come over and build it for you, it was his ex-wife’s week to watch their daughter so he had nothing better to do than to build a pretty young girls vanity.

As you two made your way to the check out you began to bounce your foot nervously as you watched the numbers climb up, Daichi noticed your demeanor a small smile coming across his face before he turned to you.

“Hey sweetheart, I forgot something you mind running and getting the staples sweet thing?” he asked, flashing you his pearly white smile, your face grew hot at the pet names nodding shyly and running off to go get the staples. Daichi quickly scanned the rest of the items putting the card into the machine and paying for everything.

You scurried back to the older man holding out a box of… nails?

“i -i couldn’t find staples so i thought nails?” you confessed your cheeks burning up only making Daichi let out a loud belly laughing shaking his head. A big hand came down, ruffling your hair before he made his way to the exit pushing the cart in front of him.

“Hey, I have to pay for all that stuff!” you said, trailing behind Daichi looking concerned making him laugh and put you in front of the cart him pushing it behind you, your backflushed against his chest.

“Don’t worry about it sweet girl, I got it covered” he said looking around the parking lot

“Which is your car?” he asked, prompting you to point over to your little car that can barely even fit your groceries in, bold of you to assume that it would fit all these supplies.

“Little one, i hate to break it to you but that is not going to all fit in there” he says pushing the cart further down the parking lot before stopping in front of a large white f-150.

“I throw all this stuff in my truck and then just follow you back to your apartment, how does that sound?” he said, leaning back against the truck, you only nodded and began helping him throw everything in the trunk.

“Here get in the trunk I’ll pass you the stuff,” Daichi says lifting you from under the arms and putting you in the trunk, while doing so he got a peek at your pretty pink panties and the wet spot forming in them making his cock strain in his pants.

Thank you for helping me again, mister,” you said as you began to load everything into the trunk.

“Don’t mention little one,” he said, handing you the last can of paint. He held his arms out to you to help you come down which you happily accepted. He set you down on the ground where you instructed him to just follow you on your way back home.

You pulled into your apartment complex parking in your designated spot, Daichi right next to you. Shutting off your car you got out walking towards Daichi who was already heading your direction.

“Come in, sit for a second. We don’t have to get started, right away,” you said, taking Daichi’s hand and leading him up the stairs to your apartment.

He walked in, smiling a little, it was so yo. The decor, the furniture, the smell, everything screamed you.

“I can show you where I wanted to put the vanity,” you say, guiding him back to your room. Flopping down on your bed, ignoring the way your skirt rode up or the way your nipples pebbled under your shirt once you entered the cold room.

“Right there,” you said, pointing to the far wall in your room, Daichi snapping his head to look in that direction.

“Hmm i don’t know if it will fit love, it’s pretty big and that such a tight spot, it’s gonna be a squeeze” he said, his words sending heat to your cunt you cleared your throat smiling up at him pressing your thighs together.

“I’m pretty good at making things fit, nothing ever too big,” you said your voice becoming smaller and softer making Daichi bite his lip

“Yeah baby? Can you make anything fit?” he asked, taking your hand and putting it over his hard throbbing cock. Your eyes widening at the sheer girth of him before sheepishly nodding your head.

“I can make it fit daddy, promise,” you said, the name rolling off your tongue like sin. Daichi let out a groan pushing you down on the mattress crashing his lips into yours.

“Fuck your gonna make it fit aren’t you pretty girl? Because that’s what good little girls do,” he said as you nodded, bucking your hips in the air desperately.

“Yeah I’m gonna take it all!” you promised with a whine, your manicured hand gripping his shoulders as grounded his cock against your panty-clad cunt.

“Fuck baby I don’t know if i can wait. I need you now” he growled in your ear ripping your panties off a pained cry escaping your lips,

“Daddy, please please, I can take it no prep, see?” you said, scooching up the bed, opening your legs showing him your glistening cunt, a groan leaving his throat.

“Fuck baby, you’re so wet, bet I could slide right in, hmm?” he asked, pulling off clothes feverishly before slotting himself between your legs bunching your skirt up around your hips. His cock rested heavy against your cunt as your lips bowed around his cock that was nestled between them, his tip bumping your clit.

“D-daddy can’t wait. Want it now” you whined, bucking your hips trying to coax his cock into your awaiting hole.

“I know I know m gonna give it to you” he said, pulling his hips back a little before popping the tip of his fat cock into your quivering hole.

“Daddy!” you squealed, feeling him stretch and open your walls up more than ever before his eyes trained on the way your cunt is sucking him in more.

“Fuck angel, you make me so fucking good, your so tight, a-are you a virgin” he asks confused on how you can be this fucking tight.

“N-no daddy! Your just too big” you whine your head rolling back as he sinks into you more and more, inch by inch until he bottoms out.

“Fuck this pussy is too fucking good, baby,” he said, pulling his hips back slamming them into you a loud, wet slap, ripping a scream from your throat. Daichi took that scream as an incentive to start moving.

His cock dragged and bumped your walls with accuracy that you think only comes with age. The way every vein in his cock was hitting every spot inside of you that made your legs shake was enough for him to drop his head down whispering filthy praises in your ear

“Fuck baby you milk my cock so well”

“You were made to take my cock weren’t you?”

“Fuck angel you’re so wet, you like this don’t you, getting off on fucking guys twice your age baby?” he questions as his cock hits the deepest parts of you. His tip is hitting your cervix so hard you’re scared he might breach and cum directly into your womb. You lock your legs around his lower back, your heels digging into him in an attempt to get him even deeper into your already battered cunt. The way your tongue lulls out of your mouth and your pretty tits bounce under your shirt have daichi’s fat heavy balls aching as the primal instinct to breed you, to mark you in the lewdest way possible, comes over him.

The feeling has him pounding into you even harder. The rhythmic slap of skin against skin and the squelching of your pussy fill the room, making your cheeks flush in embarrassment at the sound.

“D-daddy! Too deep!” you exclaim, tears of pleasure welling in your eyes as he hammers into you.

“Fuck, not deep enough baby, gotta get deeper if I’m gonna breed this little cunt” he pants breathlessly from above you. The mention of him cumming inside you has your cunt clamping down around his shaft, your walls sucking him in more in an attempt to milk him dry.

“Oh fuck, you like that baby? Like the thought of being my pretty little breeding bitch baby?” he questions, his thrusts becoming sloppy and irregular.

“Y-yes, daddy! Please please cum inside of me, please stuff me full!” you squeal as you thrash under him cumming your pussy, holding on to him with a vice grip.

Daichi bites his lip, focusing his attention on moving against the resistance of your walls. His thrusts become sloppy as he presses his hips flush against yours, his cum spurting out, painting your walls white.

“Thank you, daddy,” you whine, feeling his warm cum swirl in your womb. He chuckles, rearing his hips back again, slamming into you.

“I’m not done”

tagged: @koutaroucutie @introloves

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Anklets and Necklaces

Inspired by this tweet.

@5-secondsofcolor I’m not sorry.

Female Reader insert. NSFW Content (18+). My smut writing is hella rusty. So I do apologize, whoops.

_______________

Calum plays at the anklet, spinning it around and around her joint as her legs are crossed and resting in his lap. The gold jewellry is hardly ever taken off since he gave it to her. In return, she gifted him a chain with a tiny pendant with her initial etched into the back of it. The front of it is an arrowhead. He wears it so often now, that when it’s off, he feels a little incomplete. It’s an easy gesture to carry her everywhere with him.

“Okay we gotta decide what to eat for lunch like now or I’m going to get hangry,” she states.

Calum glances up from his phone, to see her still scrolling on hers. “Oh no. Not hangry,” he teases. But he knows she means it. Her warnings have about a thirty minute window, just enough for a delivery if they get something simple. Or if they want something more complicated, they need to find a snack now while the main course is cooking. “What do you want? Thai? Mexican?”

“Would you hate me if I said I really just wanted nuggets from McDonalds?”

The pout on her lips makes him laugh, “No, I could never. Usual then?”

“Yes, please.”

Stretching across the length of her, Calum pushes his lips together, trying to ask for a kiss. She laughs in return and squeezes his cheeks. “Be lucky you’re cute,” she states before lifting up slightly to meet his lips. “And squishy.”

“Ain’t nothing on me squishy,” he huffs, straightening back up to put her order into the app.

She sets her phone down on her stomach, gazing up over the sharp line of his jaw that his plump cheeks sit atop. And while it’d be easy to return with a poke and a verbal jab about his cheeks, she just watches him. His fingers deftly work over the screen. The white tank sits as a stark contrast to the depth and glow of his skin. “I think all the right things on you are squishy.”

“Yeah, what are those?”

“Your cheeks. And as much as you and your trainer kick your ass, I know happy weight when I see it.”

Calum grins, a chuckle shaking through him as he sets his phone down on the arm of the couch--the order completed on his end. He pinches at her thighs. “Take that back.”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think I will. I like it--just like I like my cookies. Hard on the edges gooey in the middle.”

Standing for just a moment to let her legs fall onto the couch, Calum kneels onto the cushion, hovering above her. Her eyes glitter just a little as she talks and the soft easy smile on her face lets him know that it’s all out of love--what’s she’s saying. The pads of his fingers run along the side of her thigh. “Be lucky I love you.”

“I am already lucky, so say what you gotta say. Roast me, my love. It’s not like we don’t do that anyways.”

And truth be told, Calum had no response. Not when he looks at her, because God all he sees is the person that’s been with him on his bad mental days. She’s been there when Calum was sure there was no lower low or higher high. And what do you say to that person that’s been there, seen all of you that there is to see? With a gentle and chaste kiss, Calum settles for silence.

“Cat got your tongue now, huh?”

This--this Calum can respond too. It’s all too easy. “I know what else my tongue can have.”

“I know something your tongue can have too.”

“Really now?” Calum asks, dragging his fingers over the top of her thigh and tracing the line of her lounge shorts. “Food will be here in fifteen minutes though. So that’s up to you.”

“Not nearly enough time to savor it. Besides,” she starts and takes a pause. Her lips pull into a side smile and Calum knows what that means. One brow quirks in anticipation and Calum watches her. The silence settles for a little too long.

“Besides what?” he prompts again.

“Besides, I need the mail to be delivered first.”

“What did you buy?”

“You’ll see later. I promise. It’s really not even supposed to be used for lingerie. But I’ve wanted these for a long time and I specifically have a set I’m trying to complete.”

There’s the black mesh set that she’s slowly been building out. The main piece came in weeks ago, at this point it might even be months ago that that came in. He was privy to it then and gave it the christening that it deserved. But there wasn’t any other lingerie set that needed expansion. Not at least to his recalling. “Which one is it?”

“I’m not saying.”

“Oh please,” he whines, dropping his head into her neck. His lips softly and slowly seal kisses into her warm skin.

“No, Calum. I’ve been waiting on this package for weeks. It got held up in customs and I-” she sighs at his lips sucking at her skin. Not hard enough to cause a bruise, but just enough to make her spine tingle. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Calum pushes up, with a huff, sitting back down on the opposite end of the couch. “This is killing me, you know?”

“Well, you ain’t dead yet. So I think you can tough it out for a little bit longer.”

“Begrudgingly--I want you to know that.”

She sits up, swinging her feet to the floor. “Your sacrifice will be duly noted. The mail will be here before you know it.” The couch releases her weight and Calum watches her pad into the kitchen. “Do you want anything?” she calls.

“I’m good,” he returns, knowing that he will be counting down the seconds until the mail comes. She returns with a glass of water, sitting back down on the couch, but bringing her feet up underneath her as she motions to the TV. “You watching that?”

Calum answers with a shrug. He wasn’t anymore. He originally turned it on mostly for the weather and some news. He found himself bored and flipping through channels before settling on the sports channel while he took care of Duke in the morning. Noise to fill the space since his brain needed the distraction. He hadn’t slept all that great the last few nights, decent sleep. The closer and closer the band got to putting out music the more his nerves kicked in--sometimes they were sneaky. The nerves come up faster than Calum had anticipated. And right now, they won the first round. But Calum was working hard to combat them so he could get about his daily life.

“Go crazy,” he finally verbally responds. And she picks up the remote, changing channels too fast for Calum to even understand how you could process what was on before decking it was a no. She eventually settles for HGTV--not quite caring what show was on. 

The first knock that comes to the door is the food that Calum ordered for the two of them. He answers it, popping up in the hopes it’s the mail. When it’s not, he sighs just a little but places the bag down onto the coffee table. “Your nugs, my queen,” he teases.

“Thank you, my good sir,” she returns with a grin, opening before divvying out what is for who. “You wouldn’t have happened to shot up like a bat outta hell because you wanted that to be the mail?”

Calum feels the heat in his cheeks, but bumps her shoulder gently. “No, why would I ever want that?”

“Oh I don’t know,” she scoffs in return, dunking a nugget into the sweet and sour sauce. They share a soft bout of laughter before turning their gaze back to the TV. Duke’s paws click as he ventures into the kitchen for a drink of water from his bowl. The lapping and splash of his tongue echoing just slightly as the screen goes dark between the show and the commercial break.

Calum lifts his gaze, taking in the soft angle of her jaw. She curls up around the carton of fries, eyes glued to the screen. Does she even have the slightest clue what she does to him? It’s not even the involved things like dressing up for him, or comforting him. It’s just her, when she’s munching on fries. Or when she sleepily walks behind Duke in the mornings. It’s when she hums as she cooks. It’s the dancing she does when she’s cleaning. It’s the pouts when she messes up on something and her brow furrows in as the determination settles onto her face.

It’s when she fucked up a birthday cake for him once--not greasing the sides of the pan enough and then adding a tad too much milk--called him crying about it and then in a minute flat resolved to make him brownies instead. Because she said she’d be damned if she didn’t make him something sweet to nibble on or pass along to the guys. And Calum’s not even that much of a sweets guy, which she knew, so she only settled on giving him half the batch she made. She, of course, saved the other half for her and her friends.

And it’s just the moments that she’s not even trying that makes Calum melt. Like when she paints her nails, she offers to do his first. Or when she lays down next to Duke, and in their shared silence, they seem to communicate everything with each other.

“I love you,” he states.

She turns, eyes widening for a second before grinning around her sip of iced tea. “I love you.” Her brows furrow just a little. “You okay? You’ve hardly touched your food.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“If you didn’t want McDonalds, I could’ve done something else. Literally anything else,” she continues on almost as if she hadn’t heard him.

“It’s not the food,” he giggles. Calum reaches out to caress her cheek. “I’m okay.”

She nods. “Okay.”

“I just love you, that’s all. Wanted to share it with you.”

Her grin is soft as it lifts her lips. “Good because you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

“I wouldn’t dare dream of getting rid of you.”

Another silence envelopes them. Calum finishes his food and takes the empty containers to the trash. Another episode starts up from the speakers and just above it, he hears the chime of his phone. “Do you want me to screen it for you?”

“Yes please!” If it’s one of the guys, they won’t mind her answering. If it’s someone important, he doesn’t want to miss the call.

“Calum’s phone,” she answers but he can already hear her feet shuffling to him in the kitchen. “Okay, Ash. I’ll keep that in mind.” Her voice comes closer and Calum shakes his hands just a little to get rid of the excess water before drying them. “No, I can’t say what it is without taking a look. Did you use the soil I recommended last time?” Another pause comes from her and when Calum turns, he finds her leaning up the kitchen counter, phone halfway pulled down but not fully away from her ear. “Yeah, I definitely think you should consider changing soils. But I can take a better look tomorrow for you. I’m going to pass along the phone now.”

She hands the phone over. “He said it was important.”

“Thank you,” Calum says in a whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead and then placing the phone to his ear. “Yeah, Ash?”

Calum’s not even sure how long the conversation goes on. At first, it is important information that Ashton’s trying to confirm--a date and time for a meeting that they had later in the week. He says he wrote it down where he writes down all their meetings but it’s not there. And Ashton’s trying to make sure that he doesn’t miss it. So Calum shuffles to his office and verifies in his calendar the time for the meeting.

But then the conversation diverges--they start talking about everything and anything. So much so, they’re laughing. Calum doesn’t even hear the knock at the front door. But he does notice her scurrying off into the bedroom. The door closes with a soft click. Duke comes trailing after her but notices the closer door and then keeps down the hall to the office. Calum reclines back in his seat trying to get another angle at the door. But it’s closed fully.

“You okay, gramps?” Calum asks Duke.

“Oh fuck off, mate!” Ashton laughs.

“Not you, you fucking egg. Duke--I was talking to Duke.”

“Oh!” Ashton giggles. “Sorry, I thought you was trying to talk shit.”

“I don’t have to try and do that to you.”

“Oi, don’t start something bro.” The two of them laugh and Calum bends down to scratch behind Duke’s ears. “Alright, thanks for confirming that meeting. I’ll see you tomorrow in the studio?”

“Yeah--bright and early. Talk to you later.” The call ends and when Calum spins around in his desk chair, his jaw drops as she steps out from the bedroom. It’s not exactly something new--as in something that she’s never worn before. But it doesn’t mean he ever gets tired of seeing her like this.

The white bustier pushes her breasts up and almost over the cups. And he travels the look down, taking in the baby blue skirt, fishnet knee highs. And he goes back up, taking in a black strap wrapping around her thighs. She notes the lustful gaze and steps right on the line of the threshold to the door.

“So,” Calum starts, trailing his gaze down and then back up to her face. “Not the black lingerie I was anticipating.”

“No, I’m waiting for the heels I want for that lingerie to go on sale. Besides, you didn’t like the collar I liked so I’m still searching.”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t like it. It’s just too similar to one we already bought.”

“You’re right, but still.”

Calum cracks a smile at the reluctant confession. “But enough about that. This--this is a cute outfit.”

She nods, smoothing out the pleated mini skirt. “It’s less about the outfit and more about these,” she says, tapping at the thin black band.

“And those are?” Calum asks. It’s one step closer into the room and Calum think he can make out a heart shaped metal loop in the middle of it. She takes a second step closer and Calum can see clearly it’s some sort of thigh garter--leather or something related as the material. “Oh,” he breathes.

She continues slowly to approach Calum and when she’s just in arms reach, she lifts the skirt up. It goes up inch by inch and Calum’s entranced. Watching more of her thighs revealed to him. And soon it’s black panties--mesh and if Calum remembers correctly crotchless. But wrapped around her waist is another band of leather. Two pieces hook to another metal hoop right on her hip bones and then one trip connects the top piece to the bottom.

“A harness garter belt--what do you think?” she asks in a whisper.

Calum exhales, desire stirring in the pit of his stomach. He reaches out, wrapping his fingers around her thighs and pulling her into him. He kisses in the spaces between the leather, gingerly, lips hardly touching her skin. “I think you look beautiful,” he hums, dropping his head on his neck to look up at her.

Her eyes are still closed and Calum softly runs the tips of his fingers up her thigh, tracing the lines of the harness. With a deep exhale, she finally blinks back to reality. “Not too silly?”

His brows meet in the middle of his face. Why would she think it’s too silly? There’s nothing silly about her standing in front of him, clearly excited about her own purchase. “Angel--I’ll be damned if I ever think this is silly.”

Swinging her leg over and settling onto his lap, she grins. “Thank you, love.”

Calum holds onto her hips, rubbing his palms down to her ass. “So you said this technically isn’t lingerie?”

“No--I don’t think so. But I think they could be--a small accessory to something I already have.”

They share a kiss, much too quick for Calum’s liking so he pulls her back in for more. And her arms wind around his neck as he continues to palm her ass. Here, he doesn’t really care what it is technically or not. She looks absolutely amazing. “I like it. In fact,” Calum starts, moving to grip her thighs before housing them both up and then plopping her down on the desk. “I really like them.”

Calum stands between her legs, nose brushing and bumping against hers. Here, she can feel her core aching as Calum’s fingers trail closer and closer to her heat. It’s feather light--his touch, but it makes her feel electric all the same. “Cal,” she hums.

“Yes baby?”

There’s nothing that comes out of her mouth but a small huff, a rushed and harsh exhale at the feeling of his fingers dancing across her skin. He grins pulling back just a little to see the way her face goes slack, almost as if she’s at peace with him between her legs.

“Was there something you wanted to say, darlin’?” Calum tries again, taking just a half step back away from her.

With her eyes still closed, she smiles. “I want to know,” she starts, exhaling softly to counter the thud of her heart in her chest, “if you’d so kindly want to make love to me?”

Calum can’t help his own small tuft of laughter. “Darlin’, I’d do so happily.” They don’t always wind up in bed like this--but it’s nice, to be comfortable even to be this forward with this and this open.

Calum takes her hand as she hops down from the desk. “Give me a twirl,” he asks. She obliges, turning in a circle for Calum, punctuating the back view by lifting her skirt up. “Silly girl,” Calum laughs, giving a firm but playful tap to her ass.

Facing Calum again, she wraps her arms around his torso. “But you love it.”

“I do. I love you.”

They share another kiss and she slowly walks backwards out of the room. They get lost in each other--Calum in the way she fits against him and her in the way Calum holds her, palms spanning across her back and tight enough that she wonders if he thinks she’s going to disappear but gently enough at the same time that she’d love nothing more than staying here forever in his hold.

Calum finds the zipper to the top and slowly drags it down. The material exhales, slowly falling away from her body and when it falls to the floor, he kisses her neck, down to the swell of her breast. Her moans are soft, just above a hum that makes just enough noise for him to hear. And it goes right to his gut.

Here there's very little need for words. When Calum gives, she takes happily. But when she tugs at his hair, Calum knows to step back, lets her give something to him. Her kisses are soft against his skin, but make him feel like it’s being set on fire. One that he’d happily stay in, let the blaze consume every inch of him, if it meant that she was always the one to take him.

His shirt goes to join hers. Her mouth teases his nipples as she descends further down on him. Calum thinks he sighs, all he can do is just shut his eyes and let go into the feeling of her teasing the cut of his hips beneath the sweatpants. She’s always like this, teasing him. At first, it used to annoy him. But now he loves it, loves just how close she’s willing to push him to the edge, push his buttons but always delivering at the end of it.

Her meticulous work, to watch him jump at every scratch of her nails and nip of her teeth, is enjoyable. But Calum blinks open his eyes to cup her jaw, which stops her. When her gaze lifts, Calum motions for her to stand. “Yes?” she grins standing to her full height.

Calum presses their foreheads together. “I missed you.”

“Well how dare I keep a man like you waiting?” With a slow kiss, tongues just barely dancing, Calum walks the two of them to the bed. The back of her knees hit the edge of it and she buckles just a little. Calum catches her from falling. “Turn around,” he whispers into her ear, “please.”

The instruction is obeyed and she spins to face the bed. Calum finds the zipper to the powder blue skirt and almost doesn’t want to take it off her. In the end, he does-- Calum lets the skirt fall onto a pool at their feet. Without even prompting she falls to her hands, ass grinding against his hips. He traces her spine with the pads of his fingers, following all the way down, over the curve of her ass and down to the opening in the panties. His fingers gather a bit of her arousal.

“Oh,” he groans. “So wet for me,” he hums with approval.

“Always for you,” she sighs. Calum teases her clit--a featherlight touch as he dances over her core. She lets herself fall a little bit more into the mattress--another moan leaving her lips when Calum takes one finger down from her clit to teasing her entrance.

Calum pulls away, bring his wet fingers to his lips and sucking them clean. “Taste just like heaven,” he hums. He gingerly guides her back to standing and uses her hips to get her to face him again.

More kisses are shared before they fall onto the mattress. Calum takes hold of one of the straps around her thigh and tugs her down, closer to him and she laughs. It gets caught off and morphed into a moan as Calum’s tongue licks a wide stripe up her. He’s careful of the mesh material of her panties, but knows that carefulness won’t last long. Not when her arousal coats his tongue. Not when her nails scratch over the muscles of his shoulders or tangle into the curls on his head.

She melts under the work of his mouth. The mattress merely becoming the vessel to hold the mess she’s bound to make and become. The room echoes the moans and slurps. Fingers gripping at the sheet, she chants Calum’s name. His tongue working magic over her core and just when she thinks she couldn’t possibly handle anything more, she notices the stretch at the addition of his fingers.

“Fuck,” she whines, lifiting one leg and he slips in even deeper, curling his fingers and hitting just the right spot.

Calum hungers for her pleasure--the high-pitched whine and groan as she releases. Some days it’s just the sound he needs to ground him. She gives short and breathless huffs, and quivers underneath him. “Gonna be a good girl?” Calum asks, fingers still pumping at her.

“Yes, oh yes, I will.”

“Gonna cum for me?”

“I want to, yes I’ll come for you. Make me your good girl.” Her voice sounds far away, as if she’s not fully cognizant of what she’s saying. Not quite babbling, but definitely talking so fast words bump into each other and slur together.

Calum grins, sucking at her clit again and she groans, head throwing back against the pillows. Her toes are curling--her whole body growing warmer with the passing second. The heat coils in her lower gut and she’s pleading. Though, she’s not sure who she is really meaning to plead to, but she wants to cum so badly.

Then it finally happens, one moment she’s sure she’s nearly in tears and the next, the coil snaps. She squeezes, hips raising off the bed and Calum continues to ride out her orgasm, gently pressing her back down into the bed. She hisses and starts to push at his shoulders, the signal that it’s too much. So Calum places one last kiss to her clit before pulling away from her glistening core.

Beneath him, eyes fluttering close, she looks angelic. Calum holds himself up above her and just watches the way she tries to collect her breath. “You’re beautiful, you know?” he whispers, not wanting to shatter the silence.

“No kidding?” she teases, winding her arms around his neck. The necklace dangles just a little in her face and she takes one hand to trace the chain. Hooking her fingers into it, she tugs Calum down to her. The taste of her arousal on Calum’s tongue makes her head spin. Calum caresses her side and stomach as the kiss deepens. Here is all they need--the soft and deep kisses, the moans that they swallow from each other.

Her hands leave from around his neck and begin to push down his sweatpants and underwear. And he lets her, even pulls back to kneel on his knees as she sits up. Their kiss hardly breaks and she’s quick to tug the cotton material down, hands wrapping around his length.

He groans at the squeeze--nothing too hard just enough pressure to make his whole body ignite. Her hand pumps him, once, then twice slowly and teasing him. “Baby,” he sighs, relishing the feeling of her hands working over him. The stay like that only for a minute or two before Calum pauses her to step down and full disrobe.

When he climbs back onto the bed, he crawls over her. “Welcome back, handsome,” she greets.

“Oh, it’s so good to be back,” he returns, grinning.

She runs her fingers over the tattoos decorating his chest, out of habit, out of something to ground her for a moment. There’s no way he’s real and it shouldn’t ever shock her like this. But sometimes it sneaks up on her and the realization of how madly in love she is with his man hits her all over again.

“What are you thinking about?” Calum asks.

“How much I love you,” she answers softly.

“I love you too,” he returns, bending down to kiss her. It’s soft and sweet--the kiss. For a moment, they just inhale the breaths of the other. It’s a tender moment, one that neither one wants to interrupt, so they let it linger, smiling at each other. She stretches up to kiss him, one hand trailing between their bodies and Calum catches the hint all too quickly when she traces along his length.

“I haven’t forgotten, love,” he exhales in a breathy laugh. “Trust me, I could never forget.” Once lined up, Calum’s slow to sink into her. One, he wants to drag this out, enjoy every inch of him that she grips of him. And two, because he wants to make sure that even in the lull that she’s ready to take him.

Her head falls back, hair pushing into the pillow and neck exposing itself to him. A tempting sight but Calum loses himself in the feeling of her wetness. He’s slow, pulling out just a bit before sinking further back into her. Her sighs and words of encouragement are soft from beneath him but they fuel him.

The pace quickens and both of them groan at the ecstasy. Out of reflex, she lifts one leg to readjust her hip flexor and Calum brings it up, resting her ankle on his shoulder. He kisses over the joint and the anklet, savoring just how much of her he can feel like this.

The chain dangles in her face, brushing in the valley of her breast and she revels in the feeling of Calum reaching the full depths of her body. She digs her nails into his flesh, more curses falling from her lip. But some of them get lost in the groans that win out. “God,” she huffs. “You’re everywhere.” And though it’s a bit of strain to get the words out because Calum’s pace is relentless as he snaps his hips into hers, she pushes the words out.

“You always take me so well,” he praises, watching the way her face contorts. “Oh, so soon, love? You’re going to cum again for me so fucking soon, like a good girl.”

Her whine slips out first but she nods, feeling the coil tightening yet again in her lower abdomen. Her body is hot, and she can already feel the prickle of sweat on her forehead. “Please, baby, please,” she begs.

“As you wish,” he hums, his own orgasm approaching faster than he anticipated. His body humming as the warmth spreads. The bed rocks just a little, hitting the wall and the sounds echo around them as they sigh and moan to each other. But the only thing that really matters to them, is each other.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, voice straining as she orgasms. No noise comes from her, but her mouth opens like if she had the breath she’d definitely be screaming his name. This time the quakes last longer, her whole body shaking. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” he hums, bumping his nose against her jaw, still riding through her orgasm.

“Shit, oh my god,” she shudders, wrapping her arms around his neck.

There’s a slight hiss when Calum moves again, and he kisses over her face, starting with her nose and then moving to her cheeks. Another quake takes her and Calum, not anticipating it, groans-- his orgasm now right on the edge. It won’t be much longer, but she nibbles at his earlobe. “Thank you,” she whispers. “Made me feel so fucking good. I want you to cum in me. So fucking deep,” she hums.

And while Calum’s trying to get his own rebuttal to the tip of his tongue, she squeezes around him. “Fuck,” he yelps just a little, his body erupting with his orgasm. His body shudders and he’s so blindsided by the feeling, his slips just a little, more of his weight settling onto her than usual.

She doesn’t say anything, just hums at the feeling of him succumbing to the pleasure. “Oh, that’s what I wanted,” she encourages. It leaves her throat like a purr and Calum shivers again at the sound.

They lay together, for a moment, her nails scratching lightly at the muscles in his back. Calum sinks into her, body going heavy. Her slight shift squeezes around him and he groans, sensitive. “Don’t--I can’t,” he laughs.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to.” Even her own voice sounds heavy and slurred. She kisses his temple and Calum pushes up. He’s slow to pull out, enjoying the drips that follow of his own release spilling out of her. With one finger he gently scopes it back up and into her. The familiar twinge of desire pulls at his lower gut and it’s almost enough. She even shivers, but Calum watches the way her eyes stay closed.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Sleepy now,” she returns.

“Let’s get cleaned up first and then we can nap.” His voice sounds farther away towards the end of the sentence and she assumes he went to the attached bathroom. The rush of water from the sink confirms it. Something wet and warm presses against her--no doubt Calum with a warm washcloth.

The clean up is swift as both of them share a shower and then under the sheets, they curl up around each other. Calum kisses the top of her head as she nuzzles in closely. “I want pancakes after our nap,” she mutters.

“I think we still have some blueberries.”

She pops up onto her elbow and grins a little. “It’s like you can read my mind.”

Calum laughs. “Maybe just a little bit.”

[thefanficmonster]

Love For The Faceless

Corpse Husband x Youtuber!Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff 

Summary: Y/N is a YouTube gamer who has recently gained a much larger following thanks to the streams she does with her friends. Naturally, considering her faceless and bodiless nature, people are starting to get curious about her. When she finally follows her friend Corpse’s example, a lot more than her hands is revealed.

Requested by anon, you know who you are 😉 Thank you so much for placing a request and hope this fic fulfills the expectations you have for it.

“Hey!“ I greet the lobby as I finally hop into the Discord call after quickly saying ‘hi‘ to my audience.

I’ve been a YouTuber for four years now and I’ve only recently started streaming, encouraged to do so by my best friend Rae. She’s the one who got me in multiplayer games such as Among Us and Phasmophobia which led me to meet her amazing gaming squad that consists of some of the most famous names on the platform. They are all wonderful people and I will forever be in Rae’s debt for introducing me to them. However, becoming friends with Felix, Sean and the rest of the team brought not only a more fulfilled life, but also a small boost in following. Who am I kidding, it wasn’t small. It was overwhelming, terrifying even.

My YouTube channel had a little over a million subscribers at the start of quarantine and now....now it’s closer to three million. Speaking of three million, I’m about to reach it any day now and it’s really hard to believe. I’m a gaming youtuber and I’ve never considered changing my genre despite expecting to not get any attention whatsoever, with all the big names on the platform. I was convinced not even as many as a hundred people would stumble across my videos and now here we are.

My OG subscribers are very supportive of my sudden growth and are defending me when my newer fans ask for a face reveal or whatnot. While we’re on that topic I might have to mention that not even my YouTube friends, and that includes Rae have seen my face. I’ve been faceless and bodiless for the entirety of my time on social media. Some claim I do it to grab more attention or for dramatic effect, but the reason is beyond that. I’m not shallow. Actually, shallow people are the reason I don’t show my face. I’ve never been the prettiest, but my middle school bully thought that I wasn’t lacking self confidence enough. As a result, I ended up with a not so handsome scar on my right cheek that starts from the corner of my mouth and nearly misses my eye. Yeah, it’s a long and pretty noticeable scar that has thankfully become less and less obvious as the years have progressed. Still, it’s not something I’d like to show to my viewers.

Eight ‘hi’s greet me back, each making my smile grow wider. “Sorry I’m late guys. Technical difficulties.” 

“Don’t worry.“ Rae’s voice dominates over the rest, “Corpse still isn’t here so we’re waiting for him.“

I mute myself on the Discord call and take a look at my comments. I’m most flattered by the comments about my voice. Seeing as how they don’t have much to compliment about me other than my content, they make the nicest comments about my voice, personality and humor. Those comments are the ones who warm my heart most. Even when people in my day to day life compliment my appearance I can’t find it in me to believe they are being genuine. I’d like to believe these amazing people are being one hundred percent honest when they tell me they like me for who I am and not for what I might look like.

“Sorry I’m late guys.“ A deep voice causes me to even physically jolt, switching my focus from the comments to the Among Us lobby where my eyes land on the newly materialized black avatar.

“Hi Corpse.“ Rae greets him.

“Hello mister who broke Twitter!“ Sean laughs, provoking the laughter of the rest of the players.

“Yeah, congratulations man. That’s a big deal.“ Felix chimes in.

“Thanks guys, but I think you’re forgetting we’re talking about a picture of my hand.“ Corpse chuckles timidly. I have noticed how shy he gets when someone gives him a compliment - like a snail slowly withdrawing in its shell. I find it adorable.

“That’s what makes it even better!“ I unmute my mic, sending my own congratulations.

“While we’re on that topic...“ Rae begins, waiting for the rest of us to shut our traps, suggesting she has something important to say. “Y/N, do you ever plan on doing a reveal like that? Not a face reveal. Just a body part reveal.“

I have no problem talking about the subject with friends but I get nervous when I’m supposed to discuss it with my fans. Seeing as how everyone, including myself, is streaming right now, I get a bit of a stutter in my speech. “Haven’t thought about it yet. But I guess a body part reveal is harmless.” I cringe immediately after letting the words leave my mouth, “That sounds so weird.”

Rae knows that I’m not too fond of my face, but I haven’t told her about my scar yet. I let almost all people I’ve met online think I’m using my lack of appearance for effect. For the mystery of it all. Mysteries attract people which equals attention. Attention equals views and the domino effect continues.

“Just a suggestion. No pressure.“ Rae adds quickly, knowing full well I get anxious when the subject is brought up in front of cameras. “Let’s get this game started, shall we.”

                                                          * * *

The idea dwells in my mind, sitting on the back burner even after I disconnect from the Discord call. I’m sitting in my gaming chair, which was a gift for my two million milestone, and weighing out the pros and cons of the action Rae suggested I take.

“It’s a picture of your fucking hand, dummy. How bad can it turn out?“ I say out loud, shaking my head at my indecisiveness. “You’ll be fine.”

In a blur, two pictures are already posted on my Instagram. The first one captioned ‘Took a leaf from my friend’s book. Did I do it right @ corpsehusband?’ and the second ‘Thanks, Rae. These are on you.’

Rae’s POV

As I’m watching a movie in my living room, I get a notification from Instagram, informing me that Y/N has posted for the first time in a while.

I scoff, “More like the first time in forever.”

The first thing that comes to my mind is the possibility of her reaching that three million milestone that’s been long time coming. I bring the glass of water that’s sitting on my coffee table to my lips, taking a sip as I tap the notification. The picture I see makes me hurry to put the glass back down so I don’t drop it. Y/N’s hand. Her fingers are covered with several thin rings each. And here I thought Corpse had too many rings, this girl has at least two on every finger! 

Then my eyes land on the second picture she has posted only minutes after the first and my heart drops. I struggle to get the water that’s been sitting in my moth down my esophagus while my mind is struggling with the task to comprehend the picture I’m looking at. 

Another hand is resting on top of Y/N’s. A hand also covered in rings but fewer and larger. The nails are painted black. 

I think I know who it belongs to.

Before I can even finish the thought, I’m dialing Y/N. She picks up after the second ring, sound cheery as ever as she greets me. “Hey Rae!”

“Don’t you ‘Hey Rae’ me!” I practically scream. I hate being kept in the dark about anything ever so this is just driving me mad. On top of all, she’s my best friend, for fuck’s sake. “Is that Corpse in the photo with you?!”

“Ugh....“ the cheeriness to her voice is all but gone now.

I go on with my rant, not giving her the time to reply. Not that she would reply. I bet she doesn’t know what to say. “So he knows where you live?! Or was the picture taken at his place?! He knows what you look like?! You have seen him! He has seen you in real life but me, your best friend, haven’t!!! You are breaking Covid 19 protection laws to take pictures?! Are you fucking serious, Y/N?!”

There’s a long moment of silence which frustrates me even more but I literally have run out of things to yell and the power to be angry. I mean, I still am, I just can’t express it.

“Rae, sweetheart, please calm down. You’re scary when you’re mad.“ This girl has some fucking nerve! She’s on the verge of laughing!

“Listen here you...“ 

“Rae, please stop scaring my girlfriend.“ That oh so distinguishable, oh so familiar voice interrupts me.

I am flabbergasted, for a lack of a better term.

“Now that we’ve got you quiet, I can explain.“ Y/N pics up the conversation, “Corpse and I have been dating for six, almost seven months now. We started dating around Easter after talking for quite some time. We moved in together at the end of September. All thanks to you, Rae. You’re the best.” She pauses to breathe in real quick, “There, all caught up?“

I’m in no less shock than I was before she explained. Actually, I think I might be even more confused now. It all just feels like a fever dream. “Yes...no. I don’t fucking know! I need details, Y/N!”

“Details later.“ Corpse makes his presence known once again, “We’re watching Family Guy right now. Talk to you later.“

“Love you, Rae!“ Y/N calls out before the line goes dead.

My arm goes limp, dropping my phone on the couch next to me. 

“Motherfuckers” I mumble under my breath.

Y/N’s POV

It’s been a week since Rae has stopped talking to both Corpse and me. I know she just needs some time to cool off. In the meantime, the rest of our friends were informed and, as oppose to Rae, were nothing but supportive and overjoyed. I bet Rae feels the same way though. Sean, Dave and the rest of the gang have confirmed that she’s incredibly happy for us and says she noticed a spark between me and him since day one, but she can’t help but be mad at us, and especially me, for not telling her sooner.

“Any regrets?“ I remember Corpse asking me when we hung up on her after dropping the bomb.

“Not being able to see her face when she saw the picture.“ I beam at him, feeling as content as ever.

He laughs, agreeing with me before leaning down to kiss me.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios

[lovenona]

ON THE SACRED BONDS OF BROTHERHOOD.

synopsis; choso may be their beloved frat brother, but he’ll always be your brother first. (for the frat au collab.) 

pairing; frat boy! choso x f! reader

contains; stepcest, dubcon (reader is under the influence but having a good time), extensive descriptions of knife play and blood play, marking (choso carves his name into you), oral (f! receiving), borderline yandere/possessive choso (he loves you A Lot), choso goes from mean to Soft, consumption and romanticization of drugs and alcohol, (1) use of ‘angel’, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns, this is essentially all foreplay and ends before the fucking because i got tired, minors do not interact or perish

word count; 6.5k

the yard outside is clean, well-kept. there’s talk that the house’s landlord is a retired gardener who receives great joy from keeping up the hydrangeas and peonies along the sidewalk. it’s certainly award-winning, that front yard, with its colorful blossoms and plush bees circling the mailbox. 

they’re so lucky, students bemoan on their way to and from class. i can’t believe the frat boys get to live there. i bet they don’t even know how lucky they are.

it’s a seemingly kind house from the outside – recently renovated with navy blue paint and white trimming, a large front porch and a few inviting windows. the place that omega lambda now calls home is, simply put, a dream. it sits just a few minutes from campus and it tells the street proudly, fondly, that there is no better place to be than here.

it’s true, in some respects, that omega lambda likes to see themselves as above the sweat and grime of their fellow frat brothers. they don’t spend their weekends “fucking and drinking” and tracking dirt across the carpet like animals. their fun is calm, refined: to be invited to a night with omega lambda means a night of smoke curling into the air, of gossip over olive-colored couches, of pills under tongues, of ease and relaxation.

it’s slower than the others, they say in the back of monday morning lectures, but no less extreme, no matter what those boys try and tell you.

i think i was tripping for days, the girl from psychology 101 boasted. whatever the fuck yuuji gets is strong. 

such stories amaze you: and even as you stand on the sidewalk outside the perfect blue house, petunias curling inward with the evening breeze, you cannot believe they are real. it’s hard to imagine the face of your beloved stepbrother tied to these antics. it’s hard to imagine that the boy who used to come home every winter and summer with bloodshot eyes and a beat-up skateboard also swore a loyal, unbreakable oath of brotherhood to a band of boys you’ve never met. 

it’s hard to imagine that your own stepbrother, choso, the one who taught you how to ride a bike and how to apply eyeliner and how to kiss without teeth, quite literally runs what has been dubbed the chillest fraternity on campus.

but yet, here you are, new to university, fresh-faced and eager, cowering outside the door of the omega lambda residence. your favorite skirt hovers around your thighs and you tug at the collar of your shirt, fiddle with the charm of the necklace choso gave you for your birthday a few years ago. 

he’d invited you here almost immediately after learning that you and your roommate had tried your hand at partying with beta pi epsilon. naoya is trash, choso’s fervent texts read the next morning. absolute dick – don’t trust him. come hang out with us instead. he’d attached the address of the blue house along with a reminder to have a snack and take some medicine for your godforsaken hangover. 

the message had taken you a little by surprise. choso’s always been sweet to you – doting, even, if you wanted a better word for it – but you hadn’t been sure how he’d handle attending the same university. your other friends all complain that they’d rather die than see their families; twins separate after orientation, brothers and sisters look the other way if they pass each other in the quad. you feared choso would be the same, that the omnipotent attention he gave you at home would completely dissipate the moment you moved into your dorm.

but his text reaffirms you, if anything. and although your roommate had opted to be wined and dined by the boy from calculus this evening, you don’t mind attending alone. her absence from your side only means you will be able to see your stepbrother without a distraction.

the music buzzes through the door as you knock and wring your fingers on the doorstep. should you just walk in? should you text choso and wait for him to fetch you? the ins-and-outs of frat etiquette cloud your mind until the door swings open and you’re met, face-to-face, with a young pink-haired man dangling a blunt from one hand and his phone, opened to his spotify playlist, from the other.

“hi,” you say, words foreign in your throat. “choso invited me?”

“oh, cool,” itadori yuuji says, shrugging his shoulders like he never would have questioned it. “come on in. you can put your shoes over there.” 

while omega lambda is not packed from wall to wall as your night at beta pi epsilon had been, the various couches propped against the walls and surrounding the living room coffee table are nearly packed to the brim with the frat brothers and their guests. the air, hazy with smoke and desire and drinking, shifts and swirls as it curls around purple LED lights before fogging up the windows and disappearing up the stairs. it is warm here, easy, like dropping into the depths of a pleasurable dream.

“there’s drinks in the kitchen,” yuuji is saying, voice thick with his high, “and we’ve got some other stuff on the table, although you’ll have to pay yuuta for those–” 

yuuji’s narration is cut off as a familiar figure crashes into yours, sweeping you into a hug so tight you fear your bones will snap from the pressure. choso smells like the cologne you bought him for his birthday, like fresh laundry and comfort; you breathe him in, deeply, and let yourself relax into the soft cotton of his black t-shirt.

“glad you could make it,” choso mumbles into your skin. he draws back slightly, drinks you in, your little skirt and your dainty socks that he’s always been partial to. he looks from you to yuuji, still vibing to the side with his playlist, and his eyes crinkle in what must be mirth.

“it’s good to see you,” you say. 

“you saw me at lunch with mom last week.” choso smiles, the black line across his nose crinkling when his eyes light up. 

“you get what i mean.” you tap his shoulder, lightly, as emphasis. the anxiety dissolves; it’s you, and him, like it’s always been. it’s your stepbrother choso who watches your shadow and wraps you up to keep the rest of the world at bay. 

but the tender moment is broken when someone, a tall blonde girl with the aura of a lioness, calls out to choso to ask him for assistance. he looks at you, a bit forlorn, before telling yuuji to help you get settled in and making his way to the other end of the living room.

“yes, this way!” yuuji grabs your arm and drags you across the floor like you’ve known each other forever. “i make some fucking good drinks if i do say so myself.” 

which, consequently enough, is how you find yourself losing your mind within the walls of omega lambda. 

it’s not that you’re a virgin to the world of cocktails and lime and pills: it’s that you’re too sweet to know when to stop. it’s hard to tell yuuji no more, thanks when his face is so bright, when he and the strange, blue-haired frat brother mahito are asking you to try this and try that and to let us know what you think. 

so you let yourself sway through the house, from couch to couch, listening to this mahito boy tell you about his latest philosophy courses as he dances cold fingers across your shoulders, listening to yuuji explain the very serious business of pulling an all-nighter without coffee, watching the LED lights shift from purple to blue and back again.

(you’re not sure where choso is. perhaps, in your altered state, he’s sitting just across from you and you don’t even know it. but you don’t mind, because his brothers get along with you just as well. you don’t mind, because you’re too drunk or too high to know any better.) 

“and how are you doing?” a dark-haired man slides into the empty couch space next to you. arms littered with various tattoos and dark hair pulled back into a casual half-bun, he could have been your beloved choso had he not exuded such finesse, such arrogance, which choso could never be capable of doing.

“i’m alright,” you say, but you’re more than alright. the room is so warm and your brain is so fuzzy that you might melt into the couch if someone looked away for even a minute. “i don’t think we’ve met before? i’m choso’s stepsister.” 

he simpers, a humid thing, one that coils around your eyelids and sets your insides alight. “ah! i’ve heard a lot about you. it’s nice to meet you.” he holds out a manicured hand; black nail polish glimmers in the dim light. “geto. i’m one of choso’s frat brothers.” 

his handshake might take your soul with it. his hands are smooth, refined. you swear he can feel your quickening pulse as you introduce yourself. he watches you like you might be the only person in the room, like you might be the sweetest thing to have ever crossed the threshold. and filled with rum and liqueur and confidence you take it, gladly, because you’re young and the thought of university still puts stars in your eyes. 

“so what are you studying?” geto is saying, prying you apart, picking through your history. he’s in his final year and you’re in your first and he knows all there is to know while you still have nothing. you latch onto him because he gets it, because he’s handsome, because you’re silly and desperate and drunk. somewhere along the way your thighs touch and his hand greets your shoulder and you think that you finally made it into his lap because mahito complained that the couch was too full. 

geto smells like expensive cologne. you smell vaguely of lemons and shampoo. yuuji jokes with you from across the table and you like it, the way these brothers’ eyes fall on you. 

so you spiral, further and further, into a daze you cannot escape from. you barely react to geto’s firm hand snaking up your bare thigh because you are too busy trying yuuji’s latest creation and asking mahito for more of whatever he gave you. it’s fun, it’s weightless; you feel beautiful, supreme, like the kind of college girl you’re supposed to be. you’re desirable, cute. you’re the girl to be in love with, the one who sets the scene.

those rumors were right. the party is certainly slower than the other frats you’ve visited, with more emphasis on sitting and vibing than on dancing and drinking games, but no less extreme. you’re so far out of your brain that you wonder briefly if it will ever be possible to come back down. maybe you’ll be her, on monday morning, the girl who’s still tripping.

“you know,” geto is saying, his breath eerily close to your pulse, a moment away from pressing a kiss to your cheek, your neck, “you should stop by more often.” 

“yeah?” you hope you sound sexier than you are. “i’d love to–”

“excuse me,” choso’s voice cuts through your lazy fantasy like the sharp fall of a guillotine. “i’d prefer if you didn’t hit on my sister, geto.” 

geto’s laugh reverberates against your back, your ears. his grip on you lightens immediately, and whatever words he’d saved for you die away. “i’m not,” he says, but his voice is too easy to be honest. “just keeping her company. right, sweetheart?”

you’re finding it hard to see straight. caught in this game of cat and mouse you find you can do nothing but sit lamely in geto’s lap and watch choso’s favorite necklace reflect the purple light. it’s only after a revolution around the sun you realize you haven’t spoken, that you’ve done nothing but hover, a lot of drunk and a little high and a little nervous, between one man and the other. you mumble a yes in affirmation but it’s clear from the tension that choso doesn’t believe it. 

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” choso sighs. “come on, then. you’ve had enough for one night.” familiar arms lift you off the couch and you stumble, much like a baby gazelle, into the safety of choso’s chest. the room spins with the sudden change; you cling to him like a lifeline as you abandon the party to head upstairs. 

of course, bedazzled out of your mind, you do not question when choso leads you to the end of the hallway and over the threshold of his bedroom. it feels expected in a way, safe, as if the party had always been meaning to end here. as if there was no other place you should be.

“so?” choso asks, casually, shutting the door behind him with a damning click. “did you enjoy being a little whore with my brothers?”

his words take a long moment to settle in your ears. you’re caught in the swirl of euphoria in your brain, the black t-shirts scattered across the floor, the small houseplant you once bought him seated on the windowsill. it warms your heart to see it there, after all this time.

“well?” choso demands your attention. he takes your jaw in his hand and lifts your eyes to meet his gaze. his silver rings, imposing and cool on slender fingers, burn into your heated flesh like embers. his eyes swim with distaste and you know it’s your fault, somehow, but when the walls tilt and your rationality fogs over, you can’t quite pinpoint why.

“i–” your words catch in your throat. it’s clear, from the darkness in his eyes, from the way his nails dig into the soft flesh of your jawline, that anything you say to defend yourself will be futile. it’s choso’s world, you’ve always known, and even now, you’re merely living in it. 

“i invite my sister to see me, because i miss her,” choso’s words nestle themselves deep into your bloodstream, settling amongst the brandy and wine, “and she chooses to spend the night bending over for my brothers. how do you think that makes me feel?” 

it’s a look you know: a look that has haunted you for hours and days, a look that you know better than any other. it’s the look that guides the hand between your legs at night and the look you recreate in your mind’s eye when your vibrator just isn’t enough. you’re crumbling already, like sand beneath his touch.

“i’m sorry,” you say to him, but the words are soft and whispered things, shy beneath the weight of your own guilt and disappointment. “i didn’t mean to–” 

“no,” choso admonishes. he steps closer, guiding you backwards until his bedsheets brush the backs of your knees. “of course you didn’t. you’re still too dumb to know what you’re doing.” his voice, evenly condescending, hardly matches the gentle brush of his fingers as he moves to cup your cheeks. you close your eyes against it, savoring the shivers he sends across you body with every heartbeat, every movement. “still need your big brother to keep you in check.” 

you do not respond: he does not intend for you too. instead choso presses you back until you fall onto his bed, crawling over you to cage your body beneath him like a predator and its prey. your brain falters with the sudden movement, with the lateness of the hour and the depravity of your position, but you can do nothing but look at him with your helpless doe-eyes while something saccharine pools in your belly. 

“look at you,” choso says. “high out of your damn mind. good thing i caught you when i did. who knows what would have happened.” 

you believe him, you do, especially when choso dips his head to kiss you and demands your subservience. his tongue licks the aftermath of your cocktails from your lips and claims the expanse of your mouth, your teeth, your sanity. you let him take you, body and soul, even when you’re clamoring for air and freedom. there is no safety but choso’s lips, flavored with his cinnamon chapstick, no sacred home but the warmth of his mouth. 

“there’s my girl,” choso breathes, nose brushing against yours as he pulls back for air. “going to be good for me now? going to make it up to your big brother?” 

he doesn’t wait for a response; fingers dance along the silk of your blouse as he undoes each button, one by one, letting his fingers dip slyly against the newly exposed expanse of your collarbone and your chest and your stomach. you make no move to stop him, caught somewhere between choso’s aura and reality and time. 

(and maybe in another life you would have stopped him. maybe in another life you would have been ashamed. but it’s choso, your sworn protector and god among men, and you would be a fool to try and stop the one who knows best. he is safety, protection. who knows what would have happened if he hadn’t taken you away when he did.) 

“is this new?” choso asks, studying the curve of your bra as he rests against your hips. “who are you trying to impress?” 

it’s thin lavender lace, choso’s favorite. your face warms at the observation and you turn your head away, nestling among the sheets, as if you could escape choso’s eyes: but his fingers still trace the material and you can still hear him breathing and you know he will never look away. 

“i just got it,” you answer, humbled and mildly humiliated and certainly a little fucked up. the words are slow and imprecise as you stumble over your own tongue. “i wanted to…treat myself.” 

choso’s exploratory hands move from your bra to the waistband of your skirt. “could’ve just asked me,” he says earnestly, intently. “i would’ve gotten it for you.” 

your affirmative hum is lost when choso mindfully pulls your skirt down your legs and discards it somewhere in the shadows of the room. he says nothing of it, of the thin fabric or the way it flattered you just right. perhaps he is jealous of it. perhaps he does not want to remember the way his brothers looked at you when you wore it, the way geto’s hands caressed the places no other man should go.

“they match, i see,” choso gestures towards your underwear. terrified and knowing and aware that you’re growing damper with each passing minute, you press your thighs together. “they’re cute.” 

“t-thank you,” you whisper. “i… i got them for you. your favorite color.” 

he smiles, a precious and glorious thing, a smile that causes flowers to grow and birds to sing. you electrify at the sight of it, blissful only when he is. 

“i’d hope so,” choso says, “because i don’t think i could take it if this was meant for someone else.” 

he reaches over to the nightstand while his words claw through you. choso smells like cinnamon and safety and pleasure; your heartbeat quickens as his t-shirt brushes against you, as your world collapses into nothing but choso’s profile, his butterfly hair-clips and his glowing skin and his power. 

when choso settles back over you, resting against your thighs until you think you might die of it, something silver and shiny rests in his palm. you’d recognize it even if your eyes were closed, if the room were so dark that you couldn’t see if you tried. a searing and insatiable sensation lodges itself in your veins; it is fear personified, it is anticipation of a behavior you cannot even name. 

choso twirls his beloved switchblade deftly between his well-manicured fingertips. it reflects the low-light of the room. it calls out to you, the beautiful and dangerous thing, a siren’s song that promises both your misery and your fortune. choso’s face is relaxed, serene, as the envy and the fury seemingly melts away from him and leaves only a disinterested vessel behind. 

he lets you study it, lets you study him, and you know he’s pleased when he can feel your thighs tense, when you try so damn hard not to let choso know just how affected you really are. he shifts, grinding gently against your pelvis as he moves, causing you to bite your lip in a desperate attempt to surpress the gentlest of moans. 

“well,” choso says, disregarding the state he’s slowly working you into. he shifts down your body and runs a lackluster hand across the lacy expanse of your underwear. shivers pierce your navel, silver rings poison your skin. it’s all you can do to watch him, his heartless eyes and his casual form, as his thumb prods at the place where you underwear crosses your hip. “let’s get these off. i’d hate to have anyone else see you in them.” 

you feel the blade before you see it. cold, unfriendly, it rests against the gentle skin of your hip, a killer ready to take a life. a humiliatingly choked whine is out of your mouth before you can swallow it; your gasp reverberates throughout the room, the sound of one who knows they’ve lost a fight. 

“choso–” you breathe, but you don’t know quite what it is you’re asking him for. 

he doesn’t answer immediately, opting instead to tease you further with the blade as he presses it against you until goosebumps rise in chorus. your fingers curl in on themselves, desperate for purchase, while fear and longing hum everywhere in your being. 

“don’t worry,” choso says. “i’ll buy you more. now be good and stay still.” 

you want to writhe, to lash out and squirm beneath the intensity of the moment, but you fear choso’s disappointment more than you crave such release. your big brother choso has never been afraid to hurt you: to pierce the skin where it hurts, to draw blood where he means it. if you move, the blade will move with you. you know this as you know every scar choso has left behind. 

it’s agonizing, this pace. choso’s tongue peeks out from between his teeth as he works with the ease of a great master. it’s like watching paint dry, like waiting for grass to grow or continents to shift. he cuts away at the expensive lingerie you bought just last weekend like he has all the time in the world, like he does not care if the sun rises and you are still crying beneath him.

(and he does it, you know, because you’ve never been one to be patient.) 

“choso,” you whine, drawing his name out, long and frustrated, as if in song. “go faster.” your legs twitch in protest and the blade comes ever closer. 

“no.” choso does not even spare the kindness to look at you, his beloved little sister. “stop whining.” 

the rest of your complaints lodge in your throat. you fear disobeying him, so you grip the comforter like a lifeline, exasperated tears pooling in the corners of your eyes as the blade cuts through your clothes and ghosts across the bare skin beneath. it’s embarrassing, really, the way you can feel yourself becoming more and more desperate the further choso drifts away from you, the more he refuses to indulge. 

you wonder if he can sense the arousal on you, feel it, smell it, even, like you’re nothing but his own little plaything in heat. 

after an eternity, the blade finally cuts through your panties with a satisfying rip. the torn fabric sits pitifully against your hips, a reminder of your own subservience, until choso peels it away from you with enough condescension to move you to tears. the cool air of the room hits your thighs, your cunt, like a ghost who’s taken up residence beside you. 

blissfully unaware of your feelings, choso studies the remains of your ruined underwear, the thin fabric and the obvious stain of your arousal. locking eyes with you, he bring it to his nose for a brief and pleasurable inhale before he discards it somewhere on the other side of the room.

“there we are,” he says, as if he hadn’t just smelled yourself in front of you. “now no one will ever know about it but me.”

“choso,” you whimper, hot. it’s a gift and a humiliation to be beneath him like this, to shake with need and yet to be denied it, to ask for something, for anything, in a voice so unabashedly loud that anyone who passes by the door might hear it.

he ignores you, again, and turns his attention to your bra as it flutters against your fervent chest. you watch with wide eyes as the blade comes closer, closer, dancing against your ribcage and sending ice into your lungs until it slices through the front of your bra, down the center of your chest, like the thin fabric was made of nothing but water. 

“get rid of this,” he says; you listen. with quick and quivering fingertips you shimmy your way out of the delicate material and toss it over the side of the bed faster than the speed of sound. choso, pleased with your obedience, intently traces the curve of your breasts, thumbing your nipples until you find yourself arching into his touch. 

(choso, you mumble, eyes falling shut at the feeling. still, as always, he does not listen. he draws his hands away.) 

it kills you, the way choso’s eyes possess you, own you, dictate the movement in your bloodstream. it’s akin to being pulled along on marionette strings, a puppet of choso’s own design, made to dance for him and him alone. 

it’s the prize he deserves, your big brother, to own you and protect you, body and soul.

it’s that very intensity which moves you to misty tears, which causes your hands to fly out to meet him against your better judgement. choso lets you pleasure yourself for a moment with the texture of his t-shirt and the outline of his shoulders before brushing your hands away like unnecessary flies. 

“did you whore yourself out like this when you went to naoya’s?” choso prods. the patronization lies beneath feigned and genuine curiosity. there are no inflections, no signs of anger. this is how your big brother gets you, every time: it’s the neglect, the disinterest, that breeds your guilt. “are you really so easy for every boy that comes your way?” 

you shake your head and wish you could bury yourself further into the bedsheets. no, never. try as you might the first-year college boys here just haven’t been enough, the older ones too preoccupied with better cunts to look your way. 

“just because those guys are my brothers,” choso continues, shifting further and further down your body, spreading your legs until he can fit himself comfortably between them, “doesn’t mean i have to share everything with them.” 

“i’m sorry, choso,” you try again, “i’m sorry. i don’t want anyone else–” 

“that’s right,” choso interrupts. “you don’t need anyone else. no one is ever going to love you the way i do.” 

the way your big brother does, his eyes say, but he doesn’t have to voice it. you already know. it’s true that no one knows you better than choso does. no one understands your limits and your desires the way your brother has for as long as you’ve known him. no one knows how to caress you when you cry, how to run their tongue across your lips to silence you when you’re too eager. it’s always choso. it’s always been choso; but sometimes you’re just too much of a fool to see it. 

the blade, cool and demanding, presses against the soft flesh of your thigh, just below the hip. you twitch in surprise at the sensation and curl your toes to quell the ache in your cunt. it’s slick, weeping; you can feel it, the arousal, as it pools and pools and drips quietly onto the comforter. 

“choso, what are you–” you ask, breathily, pitifully, but choso’s quick glare reduces you into obedient silence. 

he licks the cinnamon chapstick on his lips. a stray hair falls across his eyes and kisses the dark line across his nose. he is love and danger, a cocktail of possession and surrender. “i think,” choso says, the words slow and thoughtful, “you need a reminder of who loves you the most.” 

a strangled cry escapes your lips when the blade pierces your skin just enough to draw blood. the sting travels up through your spine and fogs up your senses, causes your cunt to weep in horrible anticipation. it hurts, it does, the first cut, but still you find yourself waiting for more of it, more, in terror and lust and love. 

“choso–” you cry, a misty tear escaping out of the corner of your eye, but the call is met by another stroke, longer this time, drawn out, until your knuckles clutch the bedsheets so tensely they might as well turn to stone. 

“stay still,” choso admonishes amidst the burn of it. “you’ll hurt yourself.” 

as if you were the one in control. but you listen, obediently as always, and the alcohol from earlier combined with the need in your chest mixes together until your body is as taut as a desperate wire, until you no longer have control of yourself or your limbs. the knife cuts easily, choso’s hands as steady and precise as ever. you can feel the blood dripping onto his sheets like a series of hot tears.

it’s too much, all at once. it is a fire which destroys you, which renders every coherent thought into ash and causes you to sob nothing but drawn-out cries and pleads of choso’s name into the dark bedroom. he has you just where he wants you: pliant, dumb, obedient. if he asked you to fetch him a star, you would have asked him which one he needed.

choso’s tongue darts between his teeth as a steady hand continues its masterpiece. you sob unabashedly in reply with every stroke, with every flex of his fingers as he works his blade against your tender skin. and yet, as the pain grows, so does your need for something, for anything, for release; with every aching minute your cunt grows hotter and lonelier and emptier between your thighs. 

you crave something, anything, choso, perhaps even more than you wish for air.

“there you go,” choso says, just as you release another cry so piercing there’s no way even yuuji wouldn’t have heard it. “all done.” 

you sit up on your elbows to peer down at the masterpiece below your hip. smeared with blood, aching and raw from the blade, the word CHOSO spreads across your upper thigh in an uneven but heartfelt script. it makes you dizzy, this marking, this sign that no one owns you better than your sacred brother does. you wonder if it will leave a scar, if it will heal; and even more so, you wonder if choso will merely rewrite it, again and again, until every cell in your body knows that you are nothing without him.

you say nothing; a whine escapes your lips as your eyes flit from the mark to choso’s eyes, dark and possessive, as he looks back at you.

“you like it?” he asks, once again the sweet thing, the doting one.

“yes,” you whisper back, never one to lie to your perfect big brother. 

but you cannot hide the insatiability. choso notices the way your thighs twitch from the intensity, the way your cunt drools and your eyebrows furrow because you cannot relieve this ache on your own. you’re helpless, entirely at his mercy. choso tilts his head with a soft and unreadable simper at the sight.

“you’re really worked up, huh?” he pretends your distress is not blatantly obvious. he twirls the bloodstained knife between his fingertips for a moment before bringing the flat edge of the blade against his lips in a somber kiss. “this little thing’s got you down bad, i see.” he flashes the switchblade at you like a diamond. you watch, entranced, as choso slides his tongue across the metal until any traces of your blood disappear into his mouth. 

your belly’s on fire. the switchblade shines with choso’s spit and he smiles, your blood on his tongue, while he prods your legs apart, further, until you’re entirely open for him with nothing to hide. you whine lowly as choso’s eyes flicker between your eyes, dazed and helpless, and the slick on the bedsheets. 

“choso,” you repeat. “please, help me.” your eyes are wide and your voice is small and you crumble beneath the weight of your own needing, of your own body working of its own volition, of the high that collapses all over you. 

perhaps it’s the way you call for him, your big brother, in your time of need. perhaps it’s the way choso can never really deny you, even when he feigns disappointment or rage or neglect. he’s bound to you, your protector, and you can see in the way his eyes soften ever so slightly that choso will not deny you this request.

“sure thing, angel. let me clean this up for you.” choso’s voice is generous as he bows his face towards your hips with the reverence of one before the altar. he leaves no room for your answer. an eager tongue swipes across your thigh and laps at the blood which pools there. his movements are indulgent, refined, as he holds your legs open with intimidating palms and drinks you in like medicine.

“choso–” you gasp, unable to look away. his eyes flit back to meet yours in reply but he continues his ministrations, slow, teasing, as he ignores your cunt entirely and licks at the fresh wound until it’s finally, sacredly, clean. your newly beloved CHOSO glimmers with his spit when he pulls away. he smiles at you then, praying over your hips, lips stained red with your blood, with your being. 

“i may be their brother,” choso gestures towards the door, to the party which must still rage below, “but i’m your brother first, and now you’ll never forget it.”  

the words are followed by his tongue on your inner thigh, fervent this time, as he travels downwards, downwards from his name on your leg until his nose is a breath away from your clit. you thrust your hips towards him impatiently and he accepts it, gratefully, burying his face deep into your cunt like he’s searching for gold. choso lavishes your clit with plump lips and an eager tongue, drawing the bud into his mouth and kissing it until you cry, until your legs tremble as they ensnare him in your garden.

“choso–” you’re crying, voice transcendent throughout the frat house, his favorite song. there’s a tongue prodding against your hole and a silver ring on your clit and you lose yourself within it, within choso’s breath on your folds and the fire which erupts into chaos. 

when it comes to pleasing you, choso does not require air. he refuses to resurface as his tongue explores every inch, as he laps away at you with the passionate abandon only an older brother can provide. what you need, he needs, and what you desire most, choso is always willing to provide. he holds you steady as he works so you cannot escape him. he forces you into stillness as he abuses every sacred inch of your cunt, as he works you into a frenzy with his fingers and his tongue until you can think of nothing but wanting to cum. 

and then, then, at the precipice of pleasure, choso pulls away. you pause as you catch your breath, heartbeat like an earthquake, and recollect your shock. why has he stopped? where has he gone? you’re about to sit up, to feign sobriety, to demand what the matter is, when something cool and smooth presses against your clit.

choso’s cheek rests against your inner thigh as he presses the flat edge of the switchblade against your cunt. it’s cold and dangerous and sublime and you cannot help but think of the way it could ruin you, that if you shifted or choso wanted it everything could end here, now, forever. and it is this fear, coupled with the coolness of the blade suffocating your clit, with the alcohol in your bloodstream, that sends you into a place from which you may never return. 

the orgasm is as violent as a hurricane. the moment you tense and begin to quake with a strangled sob choso replaces the blade with his tongue and rides you through it, coating his lips with your cum and swallowing the vibrations and heightening the sensation until you are tortured by it, by the sting of pleasure and overstimulation and want. 

(“that’s it,” you think he says into your skin, but your ears ring too loudly to know. “cum for me, just like that.”) 

it takes some time for the waves to recede and for your body to become still again. with a head comprised of of jelly and limbs made of water you lie still, panting, as choso nonchalantly licks your slick from the switchblade with a hum and gingerly sets it back down on his dresser. you watch as he slides the belt out of his jeans and tosses it into the dark room, as he hovers above you like an angel and its lover. 

“better now?” he asks against your parted lips. you nod. he kisses you, deeply, a kiss made of iron and cum and blood, tongue swiping across your teeth before he draws the air from your lungs. your vision swims when he plants a kiss on the tip of your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, between your eyebrows. he plants his love until there is nowhere left untouched, until you are buzzing with the security only your brother choso can give you. 

“yeah,” you mumble back to him, content, satisfied. even the sting of his name on your body is a pleasantry now. 

“good.” choso wipes the perspiration from your brow. his jeans scratch against your pelvis, and it is only then that you finally register his cock, hard and eager, waiting patiently for its turn. it is only then that you realize choso’s lesson is not yet over, that your brother’s desperate need has only begun. 

“now,” he purrs, gently, lovingly, “can you show me how much you love me?”

(as always, forever, you do. you show him your love, endlessly, even when the party ends and the house falls eerily silent. you show choso everything, all of it, loyally, just as he asks, with an only you, choso, and a no one else loves me like you.

because although choso offers his love to the brothers downstairs, he will always, forever, be your brother first, til death do you part.)

[blissfulparker]

Driving First class→T.H

Parings: mechanic!tom x reader

Summary: A bitter fight with your now ex has you taking your car instead of a train for a business trip. Although out of your pettiness and anger, your car breaks down and you are left in the middle of nowhere but luckily Tom sees your distress and the man who works on the car is your best rescue. But he works on you other ways both Physically and emotionally

Warnings: Dom!tom, sub!reader, degrading(only slightly), sex on top of a car, squirting, oral, unprotected sex (this is fictional please use protection!), orgasm denial, power struggle, Tom being scared of women for two seconds

Word count: 5.5k

A/n: yeah so idk why I got so horny all the sudden and wrote this. Tbh...I like this version of tom, whatever this is I kinda like it. Let me know what you guys think, if you want to see more or less but I present to you: the first full fic I’ve written in months!(also I know barely anything about cars so I’m sorry if it’s cringy😭)

“Fuck! Shit! Dammit! Fuck! Fuck!” You scream. Hitting your hands against the steering wheel. Such a stupid idea with a stupid end result how could you not expect it?

Taking a car instead of a plane or a train across the country to avoid your ex on a business trip. Thinking you were being more bold and brave, proving you never needed him in the first place when now you sit stranded out in the middle of nowhere with a smoking engine and only hours until sunset and you’re sweating your ass off in a suit. A suit, who the hell wears a suit on a road trip?

Your Phone only having one bar and giving you 20%, you’re doomed. Doomed to be stranded out here and either killed by a maniac or killed by a bear. If London even had bears you would be killed by one. Wanting to cry and scream and maybe a train seat next to your ex who cheated was a better option than crying in your grandpa’s old Chevy that you thought was a better idea than the Tesla or the BMW. Anything would’ve been a better idea than this one but for once you couldn’t let go of the fiery side to you and just got in a car with your middle finger to your ex thinking you were so much better than a first class seat with expensive champagne.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You say to yourself. Your hands run over your face. As dramatic as you can be you think you feel the end coming. The smoke from the engine never dies down and the sun is getting hotter and hotter. No more bubble gum pop plays from the radio but instead the sound of birds chirping and your paranoia of a bear eating you eats at your ears. You think maybe you should’ve sent that drunk ‘I miss you’ text to your ex back two nights ago when you were drunk to maybe just feel his dick once more and get on a stupid train with him but now you are—

“Miss?” A knock at your window causes you to jump. Screaming as you are met with the face of a man and grabbing your pepper spray from the keys and pointing. Even though the window was rolled up you still point and he backs up with his hands up.

“What the fuck!” You scream as you lower the pepper spray. You don’t know when, don’t know how, but now pulled in front of you was a black SUV that was in much better shape than your car. A man who wore a tight white shirt and had sweet chocolate brown curls stood with a scared look on his face.

“I-I’m sorry! I-I wanted to make sure you were okay. I’ve seen your smoke some while back and...and you were slumped over your steering wheel and needed to make sure I didn’t need to call police.” He explained very rushed. You place your hand over your heart, calming yourself as you reached to roll down your window so you can properly talk to him. A harmless boy who was probably on his way home.

“I’m fine.” You almost groan as you put your pepper spray back down. Running your hands over your face once again. Tom takes in how nice you look, black suit and neatly painted nails, you looked expensive so what was such an expensive girl like you doing in such a dirty old car like this?

“You got smoke coming from your car, you don’t look fine miss.” He looks at the cloud that still comes from your car. He has a worried look. You hate that you make the assumption of him being a man so he will know how to fix it but at the same time he was an Angel sent from Heaven,

“The engine blew out...at least I think…” you trail off. Honestly you didn’t know anymore, The last time you worked with a car was when you were 15 and before your grandpa died. The only person who truly taught you about cars now seemed to be reincarnated into the Greek god in front of you.

“Mind if I take a look?” He asked and you nodded as you popped the hood.

Stepping out of your car you join the boy in the front. Taller than him in the heels you wore having him look up at you as if you were the Angel sent down in the moment.

He doesn’t hesitate to dig his fingers into your car. Feeling the overheated engine and you watched as his eyes went in shock and his sigh. You were fucked. Utterly fucked and no, it wasn’t by some hot guy on a plane like you wished in the moment.

“She’s busted.” He looked at you. You almost want to roll your eyes and go ‘thanks’ as if you already didn’t know that. “I might be able to fix her up, gotta take her back to the shop and see what I can do but other than that she’s no good for a ride.” He placed his hands on his hips and looked up at you again.

“You mean it’s like broken broken down?” You start to panic even more. Ruining the BMW was far more worth it than the ‘57 Chevy you drove. No one made a car like this anymore and you adored it. Every chip of paint, every dent, each faded seat you loved as your own.

“I can see what I can do.” He shrugged. He starts to walk to his car, opening the trunk to hook your busted vehicle up to his and drag it back to where he just came from. As he starts to hook up your car you only just stare, watching as he does his work. He rubs his now oily hands on his pant leg before he looks up at you.

“You wanna hop in the front?” He asked and you started walking to your car and he let out a laugh. “No I meant my car, Angel.”

The random man that pulls over on the side of the road, has you pointing your pepper spray one moment ago now has you acting like a idiot as he was so pretty and a gift sent just for you.

“Right,” you walk around to the passengers seat. “Sorry.” You cleared your throat as you sat and waited in silence. Waiting for him to come around and when he does he doesn’t say anything but just starts up the car.

“You’re not going to kill me are you?” You looked over to him who has a goofy grin on his face.

“No sweetheart.” He shakes his head and you sigh in relief. As if he would even tell you that he was going to kill you. “You’re not going to kill me are you? With that spray you’ve got?” He teased and you shook your head.

“No, and sorry, I was just panicked and you are—“ you started but he lets a low laugh that you find so attractive.

“No I get it, you’re fine.” He stared back at the road. You were so use to the city, the tall building and the blinding lights you never really got to see the beauty of London outside of it. The gorgeous countryside you never knew existed actually did. But the countryside only lasted for so long before you were in a town filled with some of the cutest shops and was like a small city. So cute and so tiny.

“You wear heels on a road trip?” He broke the silence again and this time you’re looking at the four inch shoes.

“I-well-“ you looked and sounded like a proper idiot. You worked for one of London’s best businesses and now you were stumbling over your words, “well...yes? I’m on a business trip.” You admit and he looks back at the busted vehicle.

“I don’t know what business you work for but them sending you in a—“ he starts and you shake your head.

“No, no, that is mine. I thought—I didn’t want to go on a train and—it’s just complicated. A complicated stupid mess.” You tell him and he tilts his head as if he was agreeing.

“Well, I’ll see how well I can get you out of the complicated stupid mess.” He flashed a smile before he turned into what looked like a garage. A large garage that was filled with cars of all types, from new to old there were cars that had looked like they had been worked on for days as Tom pulled his car up and turned it off.

“We have some water in the front if you need some and there's a bathroom in the back. Make yourself a home, I'll get started.” and so for once, instead of just staring at him as if he was a piece of art hanging in the louvre, you search for the bathroom and the water he was talking about.

Leaving him to pop back open your hood, you walk into the bathroom and run cold water over your face. Feeling yourself relax at the feeling of finally getting the heat from the sun out of your face. Facing yourself in the mirror, you stare long and hard at yourself. The dimly lit bathroom, the achy feeling in your feet from being so stupid and wearing heels, the fact you broke down in god know what part of london but now you are in a mechanic shop and you are letting some random person fix up your beloved car.

“Should’ve just gotten on the train.” you groan as you take a paper towel and dry your face. Reaching for the door and walking back out to the garage where tom was now in a white tank top that was stained black all over, he had a towel over his shoulder as he worked at your car. You try to swallow the lump in your throat as you are completely mesmerized by the man in front of you.

Should've gotten on the train. Should've gotten on the train. Should've gotten on the train.

“Fuck!” Tom almost hits his head on the hood of the car as he sees you. You think he had curly hair at the start, now he had hair that kind of stuck to his forehead from the heat and sweat of your car. His hands are covered in black oils and he wipes them on the towel. “You scared me.” he lets out a breath as if he held it in and you take a seat at the stool next to the table filled with tools as he walks over to it.

“Sorry,” you say as you look at the car and try not to make it obvious you want to fuck him right now. A complete stranger that picked you up, you want to fuck. What if he did want to kill you? What if he had a girlfriend? Or boyfriend? Or a family of kids? What if-

“You hear me?” he was closer to you than ever and you felt your whole body go weak.

“I'm so sorry,” you shake your head. “What did you say?’

He lets out that stupid pretty laugh of his again as he puts tools back in the tool box. Cleaning up the mess he just made he repeats himself.

“I said, your car is so old that they don't make the part I need to fix her up anymore. Luckily I know a guy who has the part but it will take a few days to come in. the engine is completely busted and i think if i go a year up in model I can put it in just right. But for now she needs to cool off. She’s not gonna be able to drive for a while.” he gives you almost a pout and you slouch your shoulders.

“So I'm screwed?” your brows raised and he gave you a pressed lipped look.

“Im sorry angel, I got a spare room at my place or there is a bed and breakfast up the road I can drop you off at but for now there is nothing I can do.” he says and you sigh. Maybe you want to cry, scream, throw something but Tom notices it all at once as he watches your head drop.

Tom grew up around boys. His whole life was wrestling with his brothers and working on cars. He never dealt with girls crying. Even when he had girlfriends they typically left when they were crying but now he has a crying girl right under his roof after he worked on her car. It did take everything in him to not ask why she used the old thing but he knew a lot more was happening than just a beat down old car.

“I'm sorry. I should thank you, not cry.” you sniffled as you looked up at him who was on his knees crouched down for you. Face to face, he had a concerned look.

“I have a feeling that car isn't why you’re crying.” he didn't know how to play therapist and mechanic but tonight he would.

“I was so stupid not to just get on the train. God, I would have already been there by now and all because I didnt want to sit next to my stupid cheating ex who I thought I was so much better than if I just got in this old thing and drove there myself.” you wipe your eyes and he hands you a tissue but you shake your head.

“He sounds like a shit guy.” He spoke and you nodded.

“He is, but he was the only one that gave a shit about me and now I'm here like an idiot. Well, not an idiot...no, yeah. An idiot. You're really nice and sweet though so thank you.” you try and give him a smile and he stands up.

“Get up.” he groans a bit as he stretches his legs. “C’mon sweets, get up. I’m not going to let you cry over a guy who treated you like shit. You drink?” he asked and you nodded. “I have some beer in the fridge, you already had a shit day let's not cry about it.”

You don't know if you wanted to throw the wrench at him or if you needed him to say that. Either way he sets an ice cold beer in front of you and pops open the top for you.

Probably making more money than everyone in this town, you never thought you would plop down on a nearly broken bar stool in the middle of a car mechanic shop and drink away your feelings with a random man you just met today. You didnt even know his name, nor did he know yours but he listened to everything you had to say about your ex boyfriend who was probably fucking some model right now while you for once felt like you didnt have to play pretend nice in front of someone. How you don't know what god above sent this man in front of you but he did and he listened to each of your problems, nodding and not saying anything back as he just listened to everything.

“I used to work on cars too.” you look over at the cars and he raises his brows.you had finally stopped crying so much, realizing what was happening and where you were but you felt like a weight was taken off your shoulders when you told him everything. Not even your best friend could make you feel like that.

“Penthouse princess used to work on cars?” he teased and you only nudged his shoulder.

“Wow, penthouse princess?” you repeat back to him with a playful smile and he nods.

“Never got your name and you live in a penthouse and act like a princess.” he takes a sip of his beer and you finally extend your hand to meet his.

“(y/n).” you shook his dirty one but wow were his hands thick. You could feel each callous and feel each crooked finger. Your mind went to dirty places and you think maybe he caught on as he watched your legs cross over themselves as you shook his hand.

“Tom.” his thumb swiped over yours as he shook your hand. The feeling made you swallow hard and him smirk just a bit for himself. Before you could get too comfy you walked over to a truck that already had its hood popped open. You stumble a bit in your heels and the uneven ground and Tom is quick to follow you to make sure you don't hurt yourself.

“That's the engine.” you point. And he nods, his hand is on his hips as he watches you point and explain. “That's the brake pad, that's where you put in the oil…” you trail on and Tom nods as you get everything correct.

“Very good, darling.” he nods impressed and you look over at him with a smirk.

“What? No penthouse princess?” you're close to him. You didn't realize how close he was to you before you turned around and are almost chest to chest with him.

“Mmh, you have a preference?” he teased and you look down at your feet. You're still taller than him, but you think even without the heels on you would be either taller or the same height as him. You were always told that you were the one in control, always the one in demand which seemed to be a complaint by your ex.

“Mmh,” you lean in close enough to where your chest is gently pressed against his. “I'm not sure yet.” you let your hand go to the strap of his tank top, its dirty with oil before you let your hands go down and touch the muscle. Feeling just how strong he was, he was pretty tanned too. He was both toned and tanned as he watched your hands trail down to the bottom of his shirt.

His hands rested on your waist. Holding you tight in place and maybe in the moment he was the shorter on but he was always in control. Always.

“You seem so indecisive, do you want to drive or get on a train? Get back with a man or stay away? You don't even know where you want to sleep at night but you still act like you're so in control.” he almost mocks, giving you the same pout you had throughout the entire night and it shocked you.

“I know what I want.” you nearly snarl back and he clicks his tongue.

“Yeah?” he almost whispers as he leans in for your ear. “Prove it.”

You don't know when or how but his lips quickly land on yours. In a rough fight for dominance he has his hands wrapped around your thighs and has you picked up and laid down on one of the cars with a hood down. You don't realize it's your car with his hood down until you brace yourself on the hood. Stripping of your suit jacket and fiddling with your pants button but tom is already on it. He's down on his knees, undoing the straps of your shoes as he lets his hands go up and undo the buttons of your pants. Having you nearly completely naked in front of him, that's not exactly what he was going for as he picks you up from the hood as has you on your knees in front of him.

“Was so cute, you thought you were going to get exactly what you wanted.” his hand was dirty as it stroked your face but landed a grip on your chin. Pulling you in close, your head in between his thighs looking up at him with pleading eyes. You almost whimper, you were on your knees for a man you didn't know and you were almost whimpering.

“Dont act stupid.” he nearly spit at you as he leaned back. Your hands are going to unzip his pants but he stops you. Forcing you to rest your hands on his thighs as he pulls himself out of his pants. You swallowed hard as he was bigger than you had expected--far bigger than your ex as you felt like your mouth was watering as he used his thumb to stroke over the tip.

“Stick your tongue out.” he told you. You gladly stuck your tongue out with your mouth wide and ready to take him. He had one grip on your jaw and the other guiding his cock into your mouth. You start to suck but that's not what he wanted. He held your jaw in place as he thrusted up into you.

“Thats a good girl,” he hissed as he used your mouth as if it was his own personal toy. You reached to stroke what couldnt fit in your mouth and he let out an airy laugh. “What a little whore you are.” he shook his head. “So desperate, is this not enough for you? Sucking on my cock not enough for you?” he taunted you and you only moan—or at least try to moan and he laughs.

“What was that darling? I can't seem to hear you?” he teased and you only whined more with your mouth around him. You play a game with yourself where you think you can make him cum like this. Making him cum this early would mean that you always were more incharge from the start. But you barely know him, you don't know how long he can last.

“Get up.” he pulls your head off of him. His cock still hard as it fell onto his stomach and you were drooling with his precum. Your eyes don't even look up at him you look at the redness of his cock, how you want more of it and maybe you were the whore like he said.

“Look at me,” he pulled you up, now face to face with him. His hand that was free slips in between thighs, teasing as he gets closer and closer to your core and he clicks his tongue again. “Such a dirty girl, don't even want to look at me, say thank you, you just look at my cock wanting more. You want more?” he strokes your cheek and you nod. “What was that? A moment ago I thought I was talking to one of the richest girls in London but now I feel like I'm talking to just some whore--” he starts to talk but your lips are already on his. You straddle his hips. Extremely unsturdy but he quickly picks you up and flips you over. As much as he'd loved to see what you look like on top of him. Tits bouncing for him and trying to hold on, here was not the best place. He would get a better view later, he just knew it.

For now he flips you over on your stomach. You're pressed up against the car as he wraps his hand around your waist and uses his fingers for a bit.

“So fucking tight.” he slides in slowly at first. Making you gasp and him hiss. “That other boy fuck you like this?” he asked but you were too busy trying to feel more of him. His hand comes down to your ass and in shock you yelp. “I asked you a question, don't say you don't know manners either.'' He was close to your ear and you shook your head no.

“No!” you nearly cry out as he pushes into you. Completely filling you up. You feel tears perk at the corner of your eyes for how desperately you needed him. You even push back on him and he lets out a soft laugh. “H-he's never fucked me like this, god tom please move!” you cry out. His hands come to your waist and he clicks his tongue again.

“Since you asked so nicely.” he teased as he pulled himself fully out and pushed himself fully back in. you cry out, not caring who heard you, you cried out as he fucked into you like you two were the last people on earth.

“Fuck youre so tight.” he threw his head back as he held on to your hips. You felt yourself give up under him. There was no use in you trying to take control anymore when he did this to you. Had you dumbed down just for his dick.

“I need to cum tom.” you cry out. You try and open your eyes to look back at him who has created a rhythm for your body. His head is thrown back and he shakes his head.

“No.” was all he said and you nearly cry more. “Not yet.” was all he said as he went faster.

“Please, please, please.” you begged between a mixture of moans and cries. Reaching back to hold his hands but he quickly moved them to wrap around your waist and touch your clit. Using his thumb to rub gentle circles you nearly

“So cute when you whine like that.” he chuckled. You felt him twitch, knowing he was close too, you clenched your walls around him. You could barely hear his gasp but you have your cheek pushed up against the hood of your car that got you here in the first place.

“Fuck,” he struglld to moan out. “C-Cum for me.” he sped up and your whole body went numb. You swear you pass out for a moment as all you hear are his moans and the sudden feeling of him stopping.

Both heavy breathing you slowly move yourself to get up, at least turn yourself around so you can face a clearly stunned tom. His mouth open just a bit and his eyes are wide.

“Y-you squirted.” he tells you and suddenly you go from feeling like the sexiest person alive to feeling your body heat up in full embarrassment.

“I-i'm so sorry i-i didn't know-” you start to stammer as you reach for your shirt to clean him up but he shakes his head still trying to catch his breath.

“No, It was hot.” he says as his shock turns into a small smirk, cocky that he was able to do that. “Fuck, have you ever done that before?” he asked.

Your cheeks heated up, even though he couldn't see the clear embarrassment you nodded. One time, years ago when you were by yourself. You hadn't touched yourself in over a month and it was just the highest setting of your vibe and the hottest porn star you could find that had done it to you. Never ever had an actual man been able to make you do that. Hell, you were lucky if your ex even made you cum.

“O-Once, once but I was by myself.” you swallowed hard, you could already see the smirk on his face as he knew he was so much better than anyone you had ever had. He didn't even know your ex partners but if he could get you to do that the first time he fucked you then even you knew you didn't need anyone else.

He uses his clean shirt to clean you up. Helping you slip back on your underwear and making sure that you could still walk--you barely could. He helps you into his car. Letting you cool down a bit before he drove out of the garage, driving down the road and it was only about a minute until you arrived at the cutest house you had ever seen.

He lifted you out and brought you inside, passing you clothes that were far better to sleep in than a suit and your completely ruined underwear, you found yourself getting comfy under his bedsheets.

“So im guessing im not going to the bed and breakfast for the night?” you nuzzled into the sheets that smelt of ocean spray and cedarwood. This man was some sort of god, you swore on it.

“Hmm, no. unless you still want to.” he slides under the sheets himself. His hands dont touch you but you gladly lean in and wrap your arms around him. He at first stills, stiffens his whole body before he relaxes for you. He didn't even know what he was thinking. First he helps the pretty girl he worried was dead on the side of the road and now he has her in his bed after having one of the best orgasms of his life.

“No,” you hum against his chest. “If you don't mind.” but it wasn't a question. This time you take control over the situation and fall quickly asleep in his arms. He only lays there, waiting for you to find yourself fully asleep.

Fuck that stupid train, fuck your stupid ex, and fuck him.

-

Dark roast and sizzling eggs fill your nose. You wake up with puffy eyes, from crying last night embarrassingly in Tom's arms you look down and see you're only in a random stained tee and your underwear. In a way,you thought you hit your head hard enough on the steering wheel that all of this was a dream but it was real. You lay in a grey sheeted bed and hear the sound of music come from the kitchen.

Ideally, if you got on the train, you would have woken up in a hotel with a view of the city and probably eat half of a bagel and drink rich coffee from the breakfast bar before being off to your first conference of the day. But you were instead naked in the bed of a man who was helping you fix your car.

You stumble out of the bed, your legs wobbly, feeling as if you did a hardcore work out you nearly wince. What the man did was something you swore was only in porn. You don't know what kind of magic fucked him over while he works on cars but his fingers were skilled.

“Woah, woah,” Tom came over to you. Plaid boxers and no shirt, you think you died and went to heaven. Your car exploded and you died and went to heaven and if this is what it was then you were perfectly okay with that. “You okay?”

You nod, sitting at the island and only watching him. You knew you had to say a word soon but you didn't know what to say.

“Not so sure how you liked your eggs so I made them scrambled because that's personally how I like them but I can make them any other way you like-” he starts to go off and you only nod.

“No, I like scrambled.” When was the last time you had a breakfast like this? You grew up with servants and your parents are always gone. You never had a breakfast as simple as this.

He gave you a smile, you walked over to the coffee machine and poured coffee into the mug that was already out.

“Not sure if you were a coffee or tea type of person, if you-” before you could listen to his ramble again you shook your head.

“I like coffee. Coffee for the morning and tea typically in the evening.” you tell him and he gives a smile and a sweet nod.

“Me too.” was all he said before he remembered what was happening. “Hey, when do you have to be at that business trip? Or whatever it was?” you nearly spit out the coffee as he brings it up. You knew everything that was happening but honestly you were holding on to the concept you died and went to heaven but you had a conference in probably an hour and who the hell knows where you are.

“You know what,” your heart suddenly calms down. The panic subsides as you take another sip of that coffee. “Fuck them. They have waited for others before and they can wait for me. Fuck the trip, fuck the car and fuck my ex.” you felt good saying it. Tom slid you a plate of eggs and toast and you smiled.

“The car is still better than the train?” He remembers how all of this is about you and your ex fighting and you not wanting to sit on the train next to him.

With a smile, with everything that had happened within the past 24 hours, you pick up the plate and turn to tom.

“I don't think I should've taken the train.”

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Tagged for mechanic!tom: @londonspidey

[ncitygirls]

dance - jeno x f reader

fluff, smut, 2.1k

jeno knows it’s bad, but he can’t help but reminisce on how this all began. he likes to torture himself by reliving the first night over and over. it always starts with the drunken taunts from his teammates, sullied further by his dismissal. ‘no way,’ he’d said. ‘i can’t go there.’ he remembers seeing your roommates hyping you up, followed closely by your misguided steps. even after his earlier reluctance, he still regrets not beating you to the jump, his friends’ clearing their throats, trying to act natural as you approached their booth.

he hated the setting: a grotty sports bar a town over from his college campus. it sold stale, cheap beer, triple vodka sours and served well past three am. this may not sound like the typical start to a love story, but it was a start all the same.

‘do you wanna dance?’ you asked in a painfully small voice, your emboldened strut paling in complete contrast to your timid yet gleaming gaze. jeno still can’t say where he found the courage to agree, but agree he did, nodding behind his beer before following you up to the sticky floor. somewhere along the way you had taken his hand in yours, in fear of losing him in the sea of sweaty bodies. in the musty wave of noughties hits with tacky modern spins, jeno managed to lose himself anyway. he hadn’t a clue where to put his hands, his eyes searching yours as you giggled up at him, cooing at his bewilderment.

so you led. placing his hand on your exposed waist, your top riding up as it hugged the skin beneath your rib. he felt you shiver under his touch, his fingers clenching minutely at the feeling. ‘is this okay?’ he’d yelled, though it came through as more of a whisper under the music. you didn’t respond, instead reaching for his other hand, squeezing it over the denim on your hip. jeno was spinning. not from dancing, and not from the amount he’d drank. he knew it wasn’t down to that, nor the dizzying motion of the lights, the thickness of the air or the pounding of the music. jeno knew it was you. your chest pressed flush to his, your eyes boring into his. he didn’t know when you’d started swaying, his body leaning, moving in time with the music and the others on the floor. he could hear the songs changing, feel the bass beneath his feet. there wasn’t much he could do but enjoy it.

much like he still does. as he drags you close to him, the rosie organza pleated around your chest pressed right up to his satin lapel. his confidence then pales in comparison to now. it only took a few months to see the change, one you nurtured in all the ways a man like jeno needed. in soft assurances and gentle praise. in delicate touches and the softest embraces. in ardent exchanges and steamy quickies.

but the trouble began this past winter. well, technically well before. as a child, jeno had spent his summers visiting his cousin jaemin in his hometown from before he could remember. there the two had fortified a friendship, a real brotherhood that jeno never would have gotten to experience without being cast away to the country every solstice. it was there he met his cousin’s neighbour, mark lee. mark lee, a kind kid with wide eyes and a wider smile, was the kind of kid everyone looked up to. he embodied what jeno typically thought to be an older brother. and he was. to his step sister and cousins, to kids in his neighbourhood, to jeno’s cousin jaemin and eventually to jeno. it’s why, this christmas just gone, when mark had approached jeno, with giddy eyes and a giddier smile, to ask him to be one of his groomsmen - not just due to the refusal of a painfully introverted jaemin - but because of a genuine brotherhood formed between the two, jeno’s big hearted self could not refuse.. bringing us back to where the trouble began.

‘so, are you bringing her to the wedding?’ mark questioned suddenly, his arm pushing through the sleeve of his tux. ‘you definitely shou- it’s a bit tight at the elbow, can you see?’

jeno still curses jaemin for opting out of being a groomsman, leaving jeno to deal with the trivialities of wedding prep. not that he has a real problem with it all. it’s just a fitting, he thought as he walked in, his eyes landing on the black silk hanging off the changing room door. it wasn’t until he realised it was just he and mark - the rest of the groomsmen opting to come on a later date - that he was regretting the decision. because even though no one would admit it to his face, mark was a bit of a groomzilla. less for the usual reasons. he wasn’t rude, short or angered by little inconveniences. he was just a man of superstition, faith, and insurmountable dubiety. he wanted everything to be perfect. he wanted to do as much of his part as he could for his wedding day. jeno thinks his fiancée had been right to leave him the task of the guest list. mark easily knew more people, so was naturally inundated with acquaintances. it was a great idea, jeno thought.. until mark kept- on- pushing- ‘i’ll even relieve you of your duties early, let you go off with her-’

‘thanks man,’ the younger tried, watching the tailor pinch the jacket at his waist. ‘but really, i don’t think i will. i’ll just bring my mom or something.’

‘your mom’s already invited man, you know that.’ jeno huffed at that. of course she is. mark did take his duties seriously after all. ‘couldn’t have her going off on me like jaemin did-’

‘are you comparing my mom to jaemin?’

‘i’m just saying-’ mark paused to thank the attendant, slipping back out of his jacket as he walked up to jeno, squeezing his shoulder. ‘you’ve got nothing to be nervous about, jen. you’re like a brother to me. you should bring her, i’d love to meet her.’

jeno flinches just thinking about it, his spine straightening as mark turned to him fully. jeno manages a shrug, turning back to the mirror just for a second before deciding that, no. no, it wouldn’t be a good idea to introduce his girl to his best friend on his wedding day.

because the issue wasn’t that he wouldn’t invite you.

‘you met her at college, right?’

the issue was that he couldn’t.

‘maybe y/n knows her?’

the issue is that you’re already going.

‘you know what my sister’s like, she gets on with everyone.’

“jen?” you pant, his name falling off your tongue as he bounces you quickly in his lap. “come back to me.” he smiles at your sweet call, your teeth catching his lip between them before slipping your tongue into his mouth.

the ceremony starts in ten minutes, though guests are still pouring into the church. it’s what actually convinced him. that and you, your manicured hand stuffing your damp panties into the pocket of his fitted tux. it had been his undoing, your sweeping frame gliding into a small side door a few feet from the altar.

the clock is ticking but you pay it no mind, your hips halting their rise and fall as you dig your heels into the masoned floor, grinding your hips back and forth as you ride him. you feel his nails dig painfully into your skin, his tongue wrapping around yours, swallowing your gasps as his other hand gathers your dress, the layers of delicate organza billowing over his knee. when your nails find his nape, careful not to mess up his perfectly styled do, you suck on his ear lobe, forcing him to thrust up into you.

“fuck-”

“shh!” you hiss, rushing to stuff the same panties you gifted him in his mouth. you hear his muffled groans, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks the essence of you onto his waiting tongue. he feels you clench harder around him, his eyes smiling in place of his occupied lips. he lifts a brow when your rocking falters, your eyes darting around his perfect face, incapable of taking in anything but him and how he makes you feel. there’s a question in his gaze, forcing your head to bob. “yeah- i’m close-”

he abandons your dress then, letting the material pool around you two as he presses his palm to your neck, bringing your mouth to his. it’s a quick and steep descent to your release, your thighs burning as he slams you up and down on his cock, your skin clapping against his as he abandons all reason. he’s kept it quiet for so long, at times he thinks it might consume him from the inside out, all this love he has for you. all jeno really wants is to scream it out from the highest mountain top, tattoo it to his forehead, paint it on the fucking moon. hell, he would pay anyone to listen. he didn’t care who. he’d tell anyone who’d listen that he, lee jeno, was in love with y/n y/l/n.

“i love you too,” you almost cry, jaw unhinged as you feel the effects of his thrusts and affection rip through you. it spreads through you like wildfire, setting every nerve in you alight before it finally consumes him. your heat pumps and pushes him past his release, his heavy load pouring out into you. you milk him through it, your temple pressed to the crown of his head.

it’s the church bells that rip you apart, your whole body cringing as realisation hits. you cringe further as his flushed face fills your vision, his hands gathering your dress again before further staining your panties as he wipes between your legs. “don’t look at me like that.”

“like what?”

“like it’s worse for you than it is for me.” you’re about to ask how when he moves away from you, closing his eyes as he wraps it up before shoving it back in his pocket. “i said don’t.”

“fine, i won’t-” your surrender is cut short when knuckles strike the door three times, jaemin’s sign to wrap it up. “shit, let’s go-” you try to leave but can’t. because suddenly he’s stopping you, his warm hand loosely wrapped around your wrist.

“let’s tell him.”

“tell who what-”

“mark.” jeno used to hate acknowledging the striking similarities between you and your step brother. much like the unwon battle of the chicken and the egg: which came first? which of you taught the other that when your eyes enlarge, rounding into porcelain saucers, two full moons nearly eclipsing him, that he’d give you anything?

“today?” when he nods, you want to laugh. but he looks so confident. so sure. “jen, are you sure?”

“i am,” his affirmation makes your heart swell, even before he continues. “i’m sure about you.”

he knows where your uncertainties lie. but you affirm it too. “i’m sure about you too.” you both seem to forget the wedding in that moment, both neglecting the importance of your bridal party roles in favour of basking in one another for even a second longer. “only if you save me a dance?”

“always.” so much so, you don’t register the sound of the confessional door swinging open when jeno leans in to kiss to your forehead, his bitten lips pressing to the skin as his eyes land on a pair not too dissimilar to the ones he’d just poured his heart out to.

mark seems to short circuit for a second that seems to last hours. “mom’s looking for you,” he announces, spluttering around the words as you immediately grab jeno by the hand and drag him out the confessional. you both duck your heads as you shuffle past jaemin, who looks beyond pissed you didn’t heed his earlier warning.

when you both disappear, your brother turns on jaemin, eyes wide as full moons. “you knew!” it only angers him more when jaemin nods, unflinching when mark starts slapping his arm. “he told you and you didn’t tell me?”

“nuh-uh,” the younger defends, straightening out the groom’s lapel as he reverently shuts the confessional door. “i figured it out.” mark looks bewildered at the notion it had been so obvious. jaemin has to remind himself it’s mark’s day and not to be too harsh. “come on, hyung. he wouldn’t tell us her name, wouldn’t let us meet her.” mark still looks stunned. “don’t get me started on how many times they pulled this shit last christmas-”

and to think. it all started with a dance.

[harryspet]

off to the races (2) s.rogers

[Warnings] dark!steve rogers x reader, stripper!reader, ddlg, daddy!steve, abduction/kidnapping, mafia boss steve, bondage, a hint of peter x reader, toxic/abusive relationship, hella angst, little editing 

A/N: im mentally shutting down because of school but at least i have mob!steve :)

In which you don’t want to be Daddy’s secret anymore.

word count: 3.5k

main masterlist

taglist: @cherienymphe @peterztinglez @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes​  @disaster-rose​​ @sexyxseabassx​ @marvelmaree​

“Woah, dude, your room is awesome. Awe, you have all the good movies. I haven’t seen The Jungle Book in forever!” 

“Peter, look!” You waved him over to the window, ignoring his astonishment for the paradise Steve had created for you. Peter stood there dumbly for a moment before walking over to the window beside your bed. 

You heard the loud whirring of helicopter spinning blades echoing through the room even with the window closed. It was landing in the field behind the manor and you were questioning why Steve was making such a grand entrance today. You’d been stuck in this house for three weeks now and nothing this exciting had happened yet, “Who’s helicopter is that?” You looked back at Peter who’d crossed his arm nervously. 

“Uhm … probably … maybe-” You scoffed, before looking back at the view. The helicopter was a sleek, black color and, as you narrowed, your eyes could make out some words written in gold. 

“Stuh …. Stark …. Industries. Stark Industries,” You were calm as you took in the info before the realization hit you, “Stark Industries! Is Tony Stark here? Holy …. pancakes.”

Peter smiled, seemingly amused by your excitement, “Pancakes?”

“Steve doesn’t like it when I-” You stopped yourself from explaining, realizing there was a bigger situation at hand, “We have to go check things out. Get a closer look!”

“No way,” Peter shook his head, “I’m here to make sure you stay in this room.”

You rolled your eyes, “So Tony Stark must be here then, right?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Peter pressed his lips together like he was struggling to hold in all the secrets he knew. 

“How the hell does Steve know Tony Stark? Stark is dirty too? I should’ve known … flipping rich people.”

“Flipping?”

You took a step toward him and despite the fact you were wearing a pair of fairy wings, he still seemed intimidated by you, “What do you want, huh? A raise?”

“Uhm … I don’t think you can do that … can you?”

“Of course I can. Steve is wrapped around my finger.”

Peter cocked an eyebrow, “But he’s Steve Rogers …”

“Look around this room for goodness sake! He does anything I want. If I tell him all about how you’re a great worker, how you’re a good friend to me, he’ll surely be appreciative. Might even give you a promotion and maybe you won't have to play babysitter anymore.”

He considers it just for a moment, “If he does anything you want then why are you locked in this house?”

“Fine, fine, so I don’t have complete control but I have some. I could be helpful to you in the future!” 

“Y/N, if something went wrong he’d probably chop me up into little pieces and send them to my Aunt. Or he’d chop up my aunt and make me watch … depends on the kinda mood he’s in.”

You stared back at him, trying not to let the look on your face falter, “ … I’ll give you my movie collection?” 

“I’m sorry but-”

“It’s my birthday soon?”

“I can’t,” Peter stated, sighing, “I’ve got pressure on me right now, and things have to go right tonight. It’s like a huge deal. I never get to go to stuff and the party is-” He stopped his rambling when he realized he’d said too much. 

“Party?” Peter opened his mouth and closed it again. He turned away from you, eyes wide, and made his way to the door. Of course, you chased after him, placing yourself between him and the door, “What party?”

“Please move,” Peter begged, “I really can’t talk about it.”

“I won’t say anything, I promise!” You were the one begging now, “He doesn’t tell me anything at all. Can you imagine how I’m feeling? I’ll do everything you say, I won’t try anything, I just want to know what's going on …. please?”

“Steve can’t know,” You nodded eagerly and he finally gave in, probably because of your spectacular puppy dog eyes, “Tony Stark is having a party tonight, that’s where Steve’s going, and most of us are going to. A pretty important deal is happening.”

“Why doesn’t Steve want me to go?” You frowned a bit.

“I don’t think he wants anybody to know about you, to keep you safe, that kind of thing.”

“Right,” You nodded, “Even if I go crazy while he does that.”

Peter looked sympathetic, “I’m sorry.”

“I know this thing with me and Steve is not ordinary but is it crazy of me to not want to be a secret? Even after everything …”

You could tell Peter wasn’t expecting a deep question nor did he expect you’d confide in him, “I don’t think so,” Peter was trying to understand, you could see it in his eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck as if he wasn’t sure, “Obviously … you - uhm - care about him. I wouldn’t want to be the secret of someone I care about.”

He was taken aback when you suddenly hugged him. Unsure if he could hug you back, he awkwardly patted your shoulder which made you giggle, “Can I paint your nails?”

“What? No.”

“I have colors that aren’t girly.” “Hmm … can you do cool stuff like the shapes and sparkles?”

“Of course,” You smiled, “Step into my salon.”

+

“I didn’t get my sticker this week,” You bounced back from your toes to your heels, watching Steve as he got ready in his closet. He was fixing his tie in the mirror, making sure it was absolutely perfect, along with the rest of the look. Freshly trimmed beard and an aftershave that smells intoxicating. He smelt like money and looked like it too. That’s probably exactly how you would want to look in front of Tony Stark. 

“You skipped dinner two days in a row, doll.”

You were frowning but it wasn’t like he was focused on you anyways, “But I did better after that,” You whined.

“I know, baby, you can try again next week.”

“Maybe if you were here then I wouldn’t have missed it,” You whispered, playing with your fingernails, “But I’m stuck here and you get to go out and have your fun.”

“Have my fun?” He questioned, buttoning up his jacket. 

“You get home so late … I’m sure you go to your clubs, booze it up and talk to girls.”

He chuckled a bit, “You think I’m flirting with other women?”

“I don’t think, I know,” You leaned against the doorway, “You’re a guy, aren’t you? That’s what you do.”

He finally turned to you, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. He was as handsome as ever, like a movie star, “Doll, my days are long because I’m traveling from here to the city every day. I want to fall asleep and wake up with you. There isn’t and never will be anyone who I’d rather do that with.” 

As he came closer, you knew he was going to lift you into his arms. Ever since he took you from the club and you sobbed into his shoulders, you’d find solace in his arms. Even if his hands were causing your hurting, they still felt warm and loving, “You don’t mean that,” You whispered, muffled against his shoulder. 

“What can I do to prove it to you?”

“Take me with you,” You said and you felt him stiffen. 

“It’s not safe,” He tried to explain. 

“Are you embarrassed by me?” 

“No, no,” He rushed out, carrying you out of the closet and into the bedroom. “Why would you even ask that?”

“Because of what I do, what I used to do-”

“No, Y/N. I’ve never felt that way,” His tone was more concerned that it ever had been before, “Look at me, please?”

Begrudgingly, you lifted your head. You hated that you were feeling jealous or inadequate, “You took care of yourself all these years and I know you still can,” He continued, “Let me protect you now.”

“I’m not a baby.”

Steve could sense the small bit of pride still left in you and decided not to push you on it anymore, “Could’ve fooled me,” Steve smiled slightly, bouncing you in his arms, “Let me tuck you in, grumpy.”

“The sun just set!” 

“It wasn’t actually a request,” He was already carrying you away. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” You resisted, “Can I sleep in here? I’ll go to sleep right away, I promise.”Steve stopped, thinking it over for a moment, “I like that the … sheets smell like you, Daddy,” You added, knowing that was what he wanted to hear. It wasn’t fully a lie but you had other motives for not wanting to go back to your room. For one, your room locked from the outside and his didn’t. Besides that, you were almost sure that one of your stuffed bears had a camera inside its eye. 

Steve tucked you into his california king-sized bed that night and watched you fall asleep until it was time for him to go. You felt the kiss he pressed to your forehead and, for a brief moment, you thought about changing your plans. 

That feeling didn’t last long. 

+

For such an expensive car, you thought your ride would be a lot smoother and much more comfortable. Turns out, hiding in any trunk, no matter how luxurious, behind big boxes of unknown items, was not a pleasant experience. An hour into the drive, you finally decided that you’d had enough and you needed to get the feeling back into your limbs. Besides that, you needed to check and make sure that your hair and makeup stayed in place. 

When you climbed over the seat from the trunk to the backseat, the car instantly swerved before the driver corrected its path, “Y/N, holy shit!” Peter shouted, obviously frightened out of his mind but you were focused on making sure all the layers of your dress made it safely back into their places, “What the fuck? What the actual fuck?”

“Oh, calm down,” You said, looking at him through the rearview, “Just keep driving.”

“Are you out of your mind? If Steve sees you he’s going flip his shit!” 

“Peter, you okay in there, kid?” You heard Bucky’s staticky voice over Peter’s radio. The younger man picked it up and answered, his eyes still focused on you. 

You placed a finger over your lips and Peter gave you a death stare, “Yeah, I’m fine … I thought I saw a squirrel.”

A caravan of three cars surrounded Steve’s car as they all drove down this dark, winding road that you assumed would lead to Tony Stark’s mansion, “Did you not comprehend a single word I said?” Peter shouted, “Do you want me to get killed?”

“This is my problem,” You said, “Steve will know that you had nothing to do with it, I promise. But tonight is going to go super well so it won’t even matter. Steve is going to see me and realize he’s crazy not to show me off and then we’re going to go to the party and I’m going to charm everyone with my personality which is going to make him a ton of friends and even more money. Everyone wins.”

Peter was shaking his head the entire time as he listened to your rambling,  “Y/N, I understand that you want to be more to Steve and you don’t want to be in the dark but this isn’t the way! This isn’t some charity event or some art gala, these are dangerous people.”

“But Tony Stark-”

“Is as dirty as it gets,” Your heart began to race a bit, “And Steve cannot just let everyone know his biggest weakness, even if they are his allies.”

His biggest weakness. 

Suddenly, your mind was racing with thoughts of moments with Steve. Meeting him, going on your first dates, the hotel meetings, and the passionate kisses that always left you feeling like he felt more about you than he admitted. You never saw yourself as his weakness. 

I want to fall asleep and wake up next to you. 

When you snapped out of your trance, Peter had his walkie-talkie pressed to his chin, “Guys, uhm, we have a stowaway,” You slumped back in your seat, and when the car eventually came to a stop, you wished you were still tucked away in Steve’s bed. You think Peter was calling your name, probably apologizing and telling you how he had to follow orders but, honestly, you had tuned him out, “I-I don’t know …. I thought I checked everything …”

Your dress was adorable too, covered in pastels, while still remaining elegant. You imagined Steve's heart with flutter at the sight of you, instead, he was fuming. He was always so stoic, so full of composure, that the change frightened you. He grabbed you roughly by your upper arm, pulling you from the backseat, and slamming the door shut. Pressed against the car, you looked into those blue-green eyes that were anything except nice. 

“I didn’t mean to for all this,” Was all you could muster up the courage to say, “I just wanted to come with you-”

He shushed you before you got your words out, “We’ll talk about it later.”

You wished he would just yell at you now. He could bend you over right now and you’d prefer that over his silence and the obvious disappointment in his tone, “Later? But-” He pulled you away from the car and you stumbled in your heels as he pulled you along the dark road. 

He brought you towards the last car in the caravan and Sam stepped out from behind it, closing the trunk, before handing something shiny to Steve, “What are you doing?” You asked shakily, the cold wind of the night blowing your dress. 

“Turn around, face the car,” He ordered you and you feared whatever punishment you were about to receive would be worse if you disobeyed him. Slowly, you turned around and he wasted no time grabbing your wrist. You heard the metal click of handcuffs as they tightened around your wrist. You felt his strong hands on your waist and, as he lifted your dress, you assumed the worst. Your panties slipped down and as Steve lowered himself with them. 

“Steve, please talk to me?”

To your surprise, as you stepped out of your underwear, you felt the click of metal around your ankles. When he stood back up, he grabbed your arm again, pulling you back so you were pressed against his chest, “Daddy will deal with you later,” His breath against your ear sent shivers down your spine, “Don’t worry, doll … open your mouth.”

“If you just let me explain-”

You weren’t sure why you even wanted to. He left your brain scrambled and wondering why you even did the things that you did. 

“I won’t ask you again.”

Your lips parted and you realized he was forcing your panties into your mouth. The next thing that you knew, you were lying in the back seat of that car, your wrist hogtied to your ankles. And you thought sitting in the trunk would be uncomfortable. You were struggling and calling out for him and, as you expected, you were ignored. 

“Get her back as fast as you can. I’ll keep things short with Stark,” Were the last words you heard before the door shut close and all your screaming was muffled. 

+

You weren’t sure at which point you’d fallen asleep. As you laid there tied up, you thought a lot about him since there was nothing else to think about. You weren’t sure how he could love you and be so cruel at the same time.  

That next morning, you awoke to sore limbs and makeup staining your pillow. Even though the car ride back was hell, you knew your punishment wasn’t over. You debated even getting out of bed, knowing what was to come. 

You finally mustered the energy to clean yourself up, washing your face, and brushing your teeth. When you stepped back into your room, you were taken aback by what was sitting in the middle of your room. A giant, life-size brown bear was happily perched before your bed, holding balloons and a Tiffany’s gift bag. 

It was exactly the opposite of what you were expecting today. You approached it cautiously, decided to sit and open up the present. You handled the bag carefully, finding an elegant white card sitting inside. 

For my favorite girl on her birthday.

Love, Daddy. 

You sighed, knowing he probably picked all of this out before you betrayed him and probably ruined any sort of trust he had between you. You hadn’t even realized it was your birthday which was probably due to the fact that you had no phone or any contact with the outside world. There was also a jewelry box inside, a gorgeous, rose-gold tennis bracelet inside. 

As you snapped it around your wrist, covering your bruises, you promised not to ask how much it cost. It would probably make you feel even worse about yesterday. 

You finished getting dressed, deciding to head downstairs for breakfast. You found Steve sitting at a table out by the pool, reading through a newspaper like a grandpa. It seemed like he was expecting you because there were pancakes and eggs waiting on the table, “Morning,” You greeted awkwardly. 

“Good morning, doll. Happy Birthday,” He responded, his eyes still focused on the newspaper. 

“Thanks,” Taking a seat in front of him, you instantly moved to grab the syrup, but the rings on his finger caught your attention. Below, you could see his knuckles were red and purple, bruised like he’d been punching something … or someone. “Your hands …” 

He folded his newspaper, taking a look at them himself. It didn’t seem to faze him as he folded them on his stomach, leaning back in his chair, “Your wrist,” He changed the subject and you wondered if he was amused by the fear in your eyes, “Do you like my gift?”

“Yeah, it’s beautiful, I love it … thank you,” Your mind was elsewhere, “What happened to your hands? Is that from last night?”

“Last night is a blur. I was so angry after your little stunt, I had to have a few drinks to even get through the rest of the night.”

“Really?” You tried to hold in your scoff, “You seem very chipper today.”

“Only because I get to see your beautiful face,” He countered, smirking. 

Your eyes narrowed at him, “What did you do?”

“That’s a broad question-”

“Did you hurt him?”

“Him?” Steve raised an eyebrow, “You mean Peter? I thought about it … I’m still thinking about it actually. If he was smarter, yesterday would have never happened but you must’ve been pretty convincing. Poor kid, he probably thought you liked him.”

“None of it was his fault! I-I was just being stupid, I was using him and he was just trying to be a good guy. Steve, please.”

“If I did, you would probably start to actually listen. You’d never try one of those crazy stunts ever again-”

“I will listen! No more stunts, I’ll be an angel from now on,” You stood up from your chair, moving around the table, “I know you’re just trying to protect me. Peter tried to tell me that and I should’ve listened.” You grabbed a hold of his hand, squeezing it tightly. 

“That’s all I want,” He added sincerely and you nodded. 

“I’ll pinky promise,” With your other hand, you held out your pinky. You thought Peter would be your way out but, here you were, begging to stay in order to keep him alive. Your pinkies wrapped around each other and you climbed into his lap. You kissed the sides of his mouth before kissing his lips. 

“Soon, we’ll take a trip together, I know you’re itching to get away.” 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” You kissed his lips again, “Your hands … what actually happened?”

“Punching bag,” He easily explained although you were expecting a tale of horror. Holding his hand, you brought his fist to your lips, kissing them gently, “That probably wouldn’t have happened a year ago … I think you make me more gentle.”

“That’s a lot of pressure, don’t you think? Turning a beast into a prince.”

“For some reason, I have faith in you.”

+

“Peter!” You perked up as soon as he entered the living room, not realizing how grateful to see that he was still in one piece. Sam, Bucky, and Steve seemed to exchange confused glances from their places on the couch. 

Peter seemed baffled as well, “Am I in trouble or something?”

“No, we’re about to watch Coco. Wanna join?”

“There’s popcorn,” Sam added, stuffing his face.

“And cookies,” Bucky chimed in. 

Peter smiled, unsure, as he looked to Steve for permission, “Join us, son.”

“Awesome,” Peter clapped, making his way over to the couch, “This one always makes me cry.”

“Y/N, I thought you said this one wasn’t sad,” Bucky eyed you. You shrugged, snuggling yourself further into Steve’s side. You tried to hide a mischievous smile and act like you weren’t hoping to see three grown men tear up from a Disney movie. 

“Okay, press play,” You tapped Steve’s chest and he raised the remote. 

“Wait,” Steve paused, “Are all three of your nails painted?”

+

i’m thinking maybe i’ll make a christmas themed part 3, we shall see :)

[the-girl-who-cried-wolf]

Fingertips on me

5SOS Calum Hood fan fic

This was mainly inspired by the pretty nail polish Calum was wearing lately, so I ended up writing a random fic about it <3 not much else to say really, enjoy reading!!

Background: painting Cal's nails for him can be fun, but he's always a little impatient

Warnings: mild swearing, fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

“Y/n?”

Calum’s voice echoed through the apartment, reaching all the way to where you sat on your shared bed, busily typing away on your laptop. You looked up as he came into the room, a box in his hand and a frown on his face.

“Hey, y/n, can you help me out here?”

“Sure, love, what is it?” You shut your laptop and pushed it onto the bed beside you as he came over, fingers dancing through the bottles of nail polish that were neatly arranged in the box.

“I need to pick a colour, and I don’t know what will suit best…” he hummed as he sat beside you, picking out a bottle of bright pink to see the colour, then dropping it back and checking another one.

“You’re painting your nails?”

“Yeah,” he looked up at you, a shy smile dancing over his face. “Me and the boys wanted to do a photoshoot tomorrow and we all decided that we’d do our nails, and maybe a little makeup or something for it.”

You grinned back at him. “That sounds awesome, Cal.” You leaned into his side, resting your head on his shoulder and watching his fingers sort through the bottles, making soft clinking noises with every movement.

“You know I love when your nails are painted,” you murmured, pressing a light kiss onto his arm. He stopped sorting through the bottles for a second, picking up on what you were doing before you had even started.

“Yeah?” He turned his head to look at you, his hand abandoning the polishes in favour of dragging a finger across your jaw, turning your gaze to him. He was sitting so close already, he just had to look down at your lips and you were done. How did he do this so effortlessly? His voice was low as he continued, “Well how about you help me paint them first, then you can look at them all you want.”

“Just look?” you said with a sly grin.

He smirked at that. “We’ll see. But we have to paint ‘em first, okay?” You just sighed as he turned back to the box, lifting out a bright orange one with a frown. “The fuck is this?” He spun the bottle around to read the label. “Sunburst Grapefruit. You couldn’t just call it orange could you? Pretentious bastards.” You chuckled at that, earning a smile from him.

“Do you know what colour you wanted? Did you guys have a theme in mind or something?”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Ash said he’d do red, and Luke’s are already silver I think. And Michael wasn’t sure yet but I’m assuming he’d do black or something, you know him.” Calum raised his eyebrow a little as he picked out a dark purple-ish colour, holding it between his thumb and finger like it was an object of disgust.

“I’ve literally never seen you wear half of these colours, y/n, why do we have so many?”

“Well you never know when you might need some-” you checked the label of the one he was holding- “Aubergine Maroon.” You laughed at his evident confusion.

“It doesn’t even look like an aubergine, damn it,” he said as he put the bottle back with a little laugh of disbelief. “These names are so fucked up.”

You just laughed at his mocking. “Ok, ok, give it here. If you’re just going to insult all the ridiculous name choices then we’ll be here forever.” You took the box and placed it in your lap, fingers running through the colours until you found a dark blue one, almost navy coloured, and pulled it out for him to inspect. He put his arm out behind you so he could lean back a little, his other hand reaching across to hold the polish for a second. He shook his head.

“Too dark. They said it would be a low light shoot,” he said.

You nodded and placed the bottle back in its place. “How about this one?” The cornflower yellow was certainly lighter. He screwed up his nose though.

“Maybe the cooler colours would be better,” he leaned forward to watch your fingers dance over the blues and purples, his head resting on your shoulder.

“Not green?”

“Nah.”

“Oh, how about this one?” You pulled out a baby blue colour, a lighter shade of sky blue. He hummed in thought for a second.

“Actually…yeah, that might work.” He reached out his hand to hold it.

“See,” you nodded at the pale bottle in his tanned hand. “It contrasts your skin nicely.” You smiled sweetly at him, making him laugh.

“Ok Miss Sunshine, now you can help me paint them,” he said with a smile as he took the box from your hand and stood. “Cause lord knows I’d fuck it up in two seconds flat if I did it by myself.” He walked out the door without checking to see if you were following.

“Come on, y/n, let’s go.”

---

“Shit, that’s cold!”

“What did you expect, tough guy? Quit whining will you,” you told Calum with a smile as you began painting his nails with the baby blue colour polish. You were sitting at the kitchen table now, his hands spread out in front of you as you applied the polish as neatly as you could, a frown creasing your brow as you concentrated.

“It tickles.”

“Shh.”

A moment of silence passed. A few more nails finished. Then his free hand started tapping on the table a little, the sound of his rings echoing on the wood as he started a beat. You looked up at him, eyebrows raised. He just smirked.

“Sorry.”

“Do you want me to paint your nails or not?”

It was hard to fight off the grin when he was staring at you so sweetly, mock innocence all over his face. “Yes, please.” He wiggled his fingers to bring your attention back to them. You huffed out what might have been a laugh as you went back to painting, quickly finishing off that hand and holding out your hand for the next one. He switched them over, placing the other hand in front of you as he blew on the freshly painted nails.

“You look like such a diva,” you giggled.

“That’s cause I am one.” He grinned, giving you an imaginary hair flick before blowing more on his nails. You laughed at him. What a dork.

You quickly finished up his second hand and screwed the lid back onto the bottle of nail polish. “There you go, Cal. Now just don’t touch anything for ten minutes and I’ll do the second coat for you then, okay?” You stood from the table, stopping in front of him when you noticed his pout.

You just raised your eyebrows at him. “Yes, diva?”

“But what am I meant to do for ten minutes?” his whiny voice was saying something completely different to his wide eyes as they watched you lean down in front of him, matching his sitting height.

“I’m sure you can find some way to amuse yourself,” you said quietly, eyes dropping to his lips, then dragging up his face back to meet his dark eyes. “Unless you can’t even do that by yourself.” You reached out and flicked his nose with a cheeky smile, tutting when he went to grab your wrist. “Uh uh, no touching, remember?”

“Not fair,” he mumbled, another pout turning his lips downwards.

“God, you’re pathetic,” you muttered as you straightened up. “Come on then. The sofa’s more comfortable.”

---

You flicked the TV on to play quietly as Calum went and sat on the sofa, careful not to brush the wet nail polish on anything as he went. He sat and looked up at you with a little grin, hands spread out on his thighs so he wouldn't bump them into anything. You just smiled and shook your head at him. He really was like a little kid sometimes.

You sat down next to him, remote in hand, surfing through the channels until you landed on a sports one. You knew he liked watching soccer matches, so you let that play.

Finally quiet and content, Cal just watched you as you tucked up your legs and leant into his side. He carefully lifted his arm and settled his hand on the back of the sofa, leaving room for you to properly snuggle into his chest, which you did. He was deliciously warm and cuddly in his big hoodie.

“You happy now, diva?”

He pressed a kiss to your head. “Mm hmm. Be happier if I could touch you though,” he whispered into your hair. You could hear his cheeky smile.

“Well just wait a few minutes,” you checked the clock on the wall, “then you can touch me all you want, princess.”

You casually lay a hand on his thigh as you pretended to watch the TV, slowly picking at the loose threads of his distressed jeans, and smoothing out wrinkles in the denim. Completely unnecessary touches, you both knew that.

“Y/n.”

“Mm?”

“Don’t.”

You smirked as you turned your head and leant back to look at him properly. “Don’t what?” you asked innocently, a hand still resting on his leg.

“Don’t be such a tease,” he almost growled, even as he fought off a little smile. “You could let me kiss you at least.”

“Okay, princess,” you said quietly, a smile quirking up the corner of your mouth.

That was all he needed to hear before he leant towards you, connecting his lips to yours ferociously. You could feel the strain in his arms as he willed himself not to touch you, to only taste with his lips. You indulged him for a long while, letting him bite at your lips and swipe his tongue along yours before you gently pushed him back with a hand on his chest.

“What’re you doing?”

You just looked at the clock, then back into his dark eyes. “It’s been ten minutes. They should be dry now.”

The smirk he gave you was pure evil as his hands were finally free of their invisible restraints, one coming to rest on your jaw and draw you in for another hungry kiss, then both hands slipping down to your waist as he quickly pulled you onto his lap. You gasped a little in surprise at the sudden movement, and you felt him smile into the kiss.

Your legs straddled him as his wandering hands came to rest on your thighs for a moment, before drifted back to your waist, then up and over your back. He couldn’t stop touching you now as his mouth explored your, drinking you in as much as he could.

You eventually parted for breath, a smile on your red and swollen lips as he looked up at you with wide eyes.

“Only ten minutes, and you were that desperate.” You said quietly, making him blush a little through a smile.

“Only for you, princess.”

“Hey, don’t steal my nickname,” you laughed as you swatted at Calum’s chest, before crawling off his lap.

“What, it’s cute,” he said as he offered you a hand to help you stand, chuckling at your clumsiness.

You just smiled in response as you went and retrieved the bottle of nail polish from the kitchen table. You came back and sat beside him again, holding his hand still against his thigh as you balanced the bottle on the coffee table in front of you, dipping in the brush and spreading the polish over his nails once more, easily falling back into the rhythm.

A moment of silence passed as he watched you, then, “How long will this one take to dry?”

You grinned at him, pure, evil delight on your face.

“Twenty minutes.”

Thanks for reading!! Check out my [masterlist] for more fics <3

(and thanks to @theduckgoesquack for helping me with this one, ily jocelyn 😌)