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syluses · 1 month ago

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big girls don’t cry

𓍯𓂃 self aware robot! caleb x female reader

(wc: 9.5k) ✦ summary: after your brother passes, consumed by grief, you take to the internet to order a synthetic version of him. afterward, it’s impossible to throw him out. (or: alternatively titled the trojan horse)

✦ content robot! caleb, past engineer! caleb, au where EVER deals in robotics, non-evol au, 18+ nsfw/smut, mildly dubious consent, angst, grief, mental instability, bad coping mechanisms, robot pseudocest?? robot sex, mind games, moral grayness all around, dark/yandere undertones; this fic can have multiple interpretations, pregnancy

✦ sidenote have yall ever seen that episode of black mirror? ‘be right back’? basically this: the girl’s boyfriend dies so she orders an incredibly realistic, intelligent robot to replace him. they’re identical in personality and appearance, and yet… 👀 ANYWAYS ( ⸍ɞ̴̶̷ ·̫ ɞ̴̶̷�� ) i have a set plot for this in my head, but i left it a lil vague so ur allowed to think of it in ur own way 🤎 if u wanna know the ‘canon’ tho.. u can absolutely ask me. the lore is so deep its traumatizing :,) anyways hope u enjoy <3 ty for 1k btw!! take this as a lil celebration treat 🥳 it took so much out of me but i think i really vibe with it heheh

He’s perfect. Nigh on.

For the first few days since his arrival, since hauling him off the foot of your porch and into your living room to unpack him- heart tickering in your chest all the while, trepidatious- you’ve just stared. Reached out your hands to hover, ghosting over the broad blade of his shoulder, his chapped lips, the slight jut of his cheekbone.

His hands, as big and weathered as you remember them (but gentle, always gentle), hang limply by his sides.

You don’t dare slip your smaller ones in them.

All of the theatrics, yet you don’t press his- its- button, either.

No, you don’t even touch it after the initial unpacking, wrenching your fingers away as soon as they get too close. As soon as they get too tempted by hope and the wish that this hunk of metal was more than just a replica of your late brother. Half of you thinks it might burn if you get too comfortable; and you won’t get comfortable— underneath the solidified layers of grief and- you have trouble saying it aloud, but bitterness- there’s still just enough common sense to keep you from taking the leap. The leap from mourning to insanity.

It’s hollow. You know that much. A nothingness enwrapped in a steely chassis full of wiring and code too technological for you to understand, all covered by a synthetic skin suit as the pretty bow on top.

And you know- what with your emotional state- that if you could peer inside, strip it down to the framework and just… take a moment to look, that you’d vomit. It’d be too much to bear, being forced to reconcile with the fact that he really is gone— and in response to it all, you’ve blown your savings on an eerily-realistic, glorified doll of him with wires for veins.

You’re trembling when you stiffly prop him against the far wall, limiting contact as much as possible, and step away, keeping your eyes on him all the while. It. Not him. Not Caleb- that’s not your fucking brother, just a disgusting, soulless fascimile of him—

But as you stand back on your feet (with the coffee table in between, just in case) to get a good look at him, like a real, proper look, your breath is taken.

The thing: He’s not just a passable carbon copy, you realize. Admittedly, he’s…

Identical.

(He’s Caleb.)

All the oxygen gusts out of you in a breeze.

You lift a shaking hand over your open mouth and choke as silent tears spill from your lashline, blurring your eyes on the way down. Wetting your knuckles as they shake wildly.

You’re crying. Of course you’re crying. This is- you can’t do this. You just can’t.

Racing upstairs, retreating to your bedroom to slam the door as if the devil himself was on your tail, only then do you drop your hand and fully sob.

It’s pitiful, really. Wretched noises that resonate from deep in your throat, your spirit wrecked as you curl up on the floor and make yourself into a ball.

Darkness comes outside, the space around you muting itself in grey colors. The puddle beneath your cheek is moonlit. You sniffle and relocate, but you don’t even bother to tuck the not-Caleb robot in its special container, no- you just settle beneath your blankets and pray it’s all a bad dream you’ll awake from come tomorrow.

Tomorrow: you’ll send him off. Return him.

You don’t care how much money it costs- for all you care, it’s paltry, it’s replaceable. And it is replaceable, that’s the bleak truth: that android stood motionless by your couch, despite having a face so familiar it’s painful, has no emotional value whatsoever. There’s no depth to it. No substance.

A skeleton built by rods. Artificial flesh modeled around thin, colorful cables and circuit boards.

I mean- he’s no better than the stapler on your desk, or the toaster on your kitchen counter. Better yet, a crumb on the floor.

A nothingness, you think again. Prettily encased in smooth, sun-speckled skin and that cottony loungewear (that still retains his smell) you could hardly part with when the online form requested his attire.

He’s perfect, nigh on, you’ll give the company who forged him that much credit, because they sure followed his pictures to a T. It looks just like him; so much so you couldn’t even bear to look at him for more than ten minutes before bolting, the emotional response so violent.

But the problem is that he’s not real. He’s not your Caleb.

✦

It’s hard to throw him away when he looks like that. When he bears the likeness of your late, beloved older brother.

Yes, you want to stuff him back in his box and return to sender, but when it comes to courage, you lack the backbone necessary to carry out your decisions.

You tiptoe down the stairs to see him again and sputter.

He’s too real, you decide in a heartbeat. Too real.

Shutting your eyes as tears begin to pour anew, lunging forward with blind intent to cache him away in the elaborate box he came in, you get to work. And you get to work quickly. You can only bear to look at it- that heartless caricature of your gege- for so long until you feel something in you, your last fragile piece, begin to fracture.

After the explosion, all you had left of him were the memories. Not an explanation, not a goodbye, not even a body. What remained of the boy you were fostered with was ash and a puerile, yet no less beloved locket with its edges burnt copper.

Now, you have something exponentially more physical and intact, unsullied by the reality of what was.

So for a moment, yes- sue you and your heart for hesitating- but it’s a hard task to seal him away.

Agonizing, really.

His arms are stiff by his sides but you feel the skin; the lump of muscle in his forearm, the bump of his elbow. The only thing that keeps you from giving into the puffed-up illusion of his being real and alive is the coolness beneath your fingertips. The unnatural, icy feel to his otherwise mortal skin that reminds in a voice, condescending like all things out of reach, see? that’s not Caleb. And you’re insulting him by thinking that it could be.

You’re halfway done nudging him towards the box (careful, despite your frenzied, fluttering heart; afraid to damage his likeness) when you trip over your own feet navigating the narrow space between your table and the couch.

It’s unthinking, the way you grab him- arms flying out to steady yourself with his broad shoulders.

In all your scrambling- something clicks. Gives under your fingerpad.

A button.

With mute horror, you watch his eyes light.

…And you can see it too, you know, registering in his gaze as it settles over you and takes you in— a blip of mirth that quickly warps into worry at the look you give him. You must appear no different than a deer in headlights.

For several seconds, you simply stand there, your palms clamming up where they dig into his shoulders, and gawk as Caleb— not-Caleb’s— expression turns to one ready to comfort.

Familiar, painfully.

The stiff hands at his side are spurred into motion, lifting to cradle your cheek while the other helps ground you by the small of your back.

“Meimei?”

No, no- don’t say that, don’t say that, internally, you have to shoehorn down all your grief as it bubbles up, and harden your face to keep from crying all over again.

…Although it’s more or less obvious you had been. The puffy eyes rimmed in red, the certain wisp of defeat to your brow and the exhaustion written all over you is clear as day. It leaves nothing to ponder.

He sounds disturbed by it all, the sadness about you that lies thick as a coating of paint. Commiserative to a fault. Lassoing you to his firm chest as he burrows your head below the dip of his chin.

He goes, “What’s wrong?” Then, “It’s okay, I’m here. I got you. Just let it all out.”

And the world around you staggers to a fall.

✦

It was very difficult to get rid of him as he stood still; when you could convince yourself he was just a startlingly realistic statue.

It’s all but impossible when he begins to move, and speak, and smile at you.

You don’t get close enough to press his button. You’re not quite strong enough to apply the distance you probably should, though, so when he takes a step forward, you take one back- but you never run.

It’s a weird limbo you’re caught in. Do you leap into his arms? Do you… Do you toss him out the door, after all? Leave him to the elements to chip away at his body; the rain to erode his fleshy outer shell?

But no. How could you do that? He-

He fucking looks like Caleb. It feels more sinful to rid yourself of him, now that he’s… on, than to indulge a little bit in the idea that he’s still alive and breathing.

If Caleb was still alive, you wonder silently one morning with no small amount of hurt, would he hate you? For whatever the hell it is you’re doing now?

You can’t even blame Gideon, not really. Without his persistent messages, and all the links he sent you of articles revolving androids and how they can help the user cope with grief, you’d have been none the wiser to the concept, sure- but at the end of the day, you made the choice to get one.

A chunk of your savings and an unprompted, fat check from Caleb’s best buddy— you decided to throw that at some futuristic company (well, not ‘some’: both men worked there- albeit they always kept their work very hush (you did catch whispers of a promotion, though, before the accident)) and one of the many services they provide.

Gideon, over the course of some months, was all but pointing you at their website, promising it would help. He’d be there to clear any confusion, in any case; hey, how neat did a walkthrough of the site from a bonafide EVER engineer sound?: Just one of his probes.

It was only two weeks back, however, when he paid an unsolicited house call, wordlessly wrapping you into his broad chest, that you caved to them.

You think about the scene while you sit at the counter and sip from your mug.

Your home smells richly of coffee, just brewed, and bacon as it sizzles. Eyeing not-Caleb with a pang of unease— not fully able to snuff out that feeling of uncanniness even as some days pass peacefully— you offer a small smile when he glances up at you.

Beaming just as he was the day before. Beaming like nothing is terribly wrong.

(To be clear, something is.)

You… can’t help but feel like you’re being monitored when he stares.

Yes, it’s a silly fear, you know that. The company your late brother worked for wasn’t exactly open with all the scientific grounds they made breakthroughs on, but he always promised that their means were lawful. Caleb wasn’t one for lies- so your doubts were soothed. So as hush-hush as EVER is sometimes, you’re fairly confident they wouldn’t ship out mass batches of faulty or otherwise rigged products.

Anyway- you suppose the weird intensity in its eyes isn’t all that off-putting when you take into account the very real personality it was formulated from.

When the pancakes (your favorite: banana chocolate chip; information he apparently already knew) turn an appetizing shade of gold, he shimmies them off the pan with a spatula and onto a plate.

That plate- loaded tastefully with bacon, a scoop of rice, and eggs with a ketchup smile painted over its face- slides before you. But though your belly growls, you don’t eat. Not right away. Wherever the culinary arts are concerned, your older brother has always excelled. Growing up, maybe you even exploited him a little for it- but he never did anything he didn’t want to; sometimes it even seemed like Caleb enjoyed sticking his neck out for you.

He pats his hands over his too-small apron (not that he minds it), frowning.

“What’s wrong, Pipsqueak? Does… Does the food look alright? I haven’t made somethin’ for you in a while, huh…?”

Oh no, the food looks fine.

It’s just that you’re the only one eating it.

And maybe it’d be better to keep that thought to yourself: part of you is just over the moon to have him standing in your kitchen with you after months apart— but it doesn’t matter that you keep your mouth shut, because Caleb reads your mind anyway.

He’s at your side in a blink, hushing away the tears that bead at your eyes out of nowhere.

“Hey, hey… No cryin’, okay? I’m just not hungry this morning, Meimei- but that doesn’t mean I won’t sit with you and talk while you eat. C’mon,” he squeezes your hand where it lies on the counter, smiling lightly.

It takes everything in you not to flinch away from the touch.

“Wouldn’t want your breakfast goin’ cold now, would we?” Pulling out the barstool beside you, he sits.

You don’t ask him to, but Caleb picks up your fork and embodies one of the several memories you have of him spoonfeeding you as a child.

“I can feed you. Just like the good ol’ times. Here, you gotta open your mouth first,” His smile strengthens when your lips, as if by habit, part. Your lashes flutter shut when that first bite touches your tongue- syrupy hotcakes and fluffy scrambled eggs- and for that you’re glad because you don’t have to see the way he marvels at you as you eat.

It’s not good for your heart.

“So? What does Pipsqueak the number one food critic have to say about my dish?” He shines, “Does it taste as good as it looks?” You can’t help the breathless laugh that escapes- the scene too nostalgic to simply idle away with indifference. You wear all your emotions on your face, anyway; you’re not fooling anybody, least of all Caleb.

“Even better,” you murmur with the barest of smiles. He presses another spoonful to your lips and you giggle.

Violet hues glitter with delight. You’ve said practically nothing to him this whole time, and he’s been patient- weirdly patient, almost- but the joy in his gaze is palpable now.

Sometimes, though, you can almost swear you see something in his gaze shift. Tuning itself like a lens. He blinks and it disappears.

“…But I will say your presentation could use some work. It’s a 7 out of 10.”

Caleb, still holding the utensil out, uses his other hand to prop his chin up. He smiles fondly as he regards you. As you’ve gotten older, it’s like every time you see the brunet, he looks at you like he’s taking you in for the first time all over again.

“Yeah?” He encourages. “Enlighten me, oh Pipsqueak- what must I do to earn those three extra points?”

��The ketchup smiley face was all lopsided,” you explain in a quiet voice, having a hard time fully immersing in this lie unraveling before you; beautiful as it is. As much as you might ache to.

This isn’t a good idea. You know that.

Still…

Maybe… maybe just a couple of conversations with him can’t be too bad, right? I mean, it’s only a fraction of what Gideon was expecting of you (lounging around together to chat, game nights, and even public outings), but to him, it’d be a start. For you, though, it’s a stretch. An exception.

You should limit interaction with not-Caleb.

You know this, and yet—

Glancing back to him, you try and fail to hide a coy smile with a napkin. “Next time, keep a steady hand, and you’ll be a perfect chef in no time. Maybe not as good as me, but, y’know…”

He chuckles, brows lifting. “Oh yeah? Then expect surgical precision from me tomorrow morning. Chef Caleb won’t let you down again!”

An intense sadness slips through the momentary happiness you were allowed. It nags at your chest.

You blink rapidly, giving a feeble, light sound before looking away.

You’ve never let me down, Gege, you don’t say, taking your fork from the clasp of his big hand (much to his dismay) to prod at your plate.

It was me who failed you.

✦

Not-Caleb looks like Caleb, yes.

He acts like him, too.

You spend the span of the next few weeks trying to scrutinize him; hours spent on the couch, his hand in yours while you grill him. You treat him like a bug under a microscope. Prodding for answers to questions you’re sure his programming must miss- interrogations built on memories so old they’re near ancient. Just blurry wisps in your mind.

Not-Caleb remembers some better than you.

Puts you to shame with his mechanical replies detailing scenarios you’re missing fragments of.

What’s Caleb’s favorite fruit?

I like apples, Pipsqueak.

And what’s my favorite food he’d make for me?

Easy-peasy. You still love those boneless chicken wings, don’t you? Although, that braised pork I make for you comes as a close second, doesn’t it?

Am I your real sister?

And you’d never ask the real Caleb such a thing. You’re only doing it now because it’s one of the most personal things you could possibly make a query of. His response would be very telling.

Life before you met him all those years ago is no more than a fuzzy glimpse, and you never minded all that much: so long as you had Caleb, nothing else, nothing before, mattered. All throughout your childhood, people didn’t know the difference anyway.

Far as they knew, you were family.

Which… isn’t wrong, per se— but it’s not biological. ‘Real.’

You, Caleb, and Gran were obviously aware of that. To you it was always a beautiful thing: a tale of rebirth, in a way, or a second chance, as a young girl found a new place to call home with a warm guardian and a brotherly figure. They’d stabilize her and bring warmth to an otherwise cold beginning.

Caleb was never spoken for on that front.

You… didn’t see eye to eye on all things. Oh, that much is true.

Sometimes you were convinced that he wanted nothing to do with the assumption that you were his little sister (albeit, you were never sure why). At others, it was like he was furious you were only bound to him in name and not blood. He saw it as an attack on your close bond.

…But Not-Caleb surely doesn’t know all his nuances. Not like you came to.

So you’re expecting a pause. A minor glitch or even a malfunction as the robot scours his database.

Got him, you almost think to yourself— then swiftly take it back.

The face of the android sat at your side falls, much to your surprise, into a small frown.

And the truth must be coded deep in the bulwarks of not-Caleb’s artificial brain: your and Caleb’s respective origins. The answer is no. No, you’re not his real sister.

…But your real Gege would lie and say yes, absolutely you are—

“‘Course you are,” Not-Caleb goes. And he does it with as much passion behind it as you’d expect.

You’re startled into silence.

He scoots impossibly closer and loops an arm over your shoulder, tucking your head to his jaw. Seamlessly, he pecks your hairline, saying, “You’re my sweet little Meimei. You’re priceless to me. Now no more pickin’ at me, okay?” He suggests in a light tone, rubbing your shoulder. “You’ve been questioning me all evening- look, it even got dark out. Let’s get you to bed-“

“I- I didn’t say I was tired-“

“You didn’t have to. I could tell you were startin’ to get sleepy, Pipsqueak,” he looks down at you and smiles- a reassuring, yet no less playful smile- and for one moment you cant breathe because fuck it’s him. It’s really, really him. “Your drooping eyes were a dead giveaway. Hm... I guess that big dinner we had put you in a food coma, huh?” He chuckles.

We. Funny, that. You recall the feast being one-sided.

Nonetheless.

Without prompting, he sweeps you off the couch and walks you up the wooden stairway. The old steps creak underfoot. He does it all effortlessly, though, arms as strong and capable as you remember.

You loop your slimmer ones around his neck.

With great hesitance, you lend a part of yourself to this illusion.

This beautiful, near unbelievable, oh-so fragile illusion that Caleb is not dead.

When you reach your bedroom, you don’t send him off to the guest room like all the nights before. No, when he carefully sets you down, you watch him, motionlessly, as he tucks you in and plants a chaste kiss to your forehead. When he turns to go- “don’t let the bed bugs bite”- you snatch his hand, half terrified you’ll blink and he’ll be gone, and flash him a look that silently pleads.

Stay.

The brunet’s lashes flutter, brushing over his cheekbones where the lamplight makes them shine.

He opens his mouth.

Pauses, then closes it.

“Stay. Please, Gege,” you breathe, on the cusp of shattering all over again. It’s become more manageable over recent days, this unresolved cluster of emotion inside you, but it’s times like these that make you feel blindsided by it.

You innocently add, “Like when we were kids.”

Oh, you’d go back to then if you could.

His long fingers, loose in your hold, flip to swallow up your hand. He stoops over to turn off the light.

His voice shakes ever so slightly, “Okay.”

Then, he clambers into bed with you and reminds you of just how small it is, how much he does not belong, but you’ve never felt more at home when he pulls you to his chest and- dutifully ignoring the quiet beneath your ear, the absence of a pulse- you cling to him.

Maybe it’d be a little weird, the proximity, what with your grown age and the fact that you were no longer children cuddling during thunderstorms…

It’s not like you’re hanging off him like he’s your lifeline for any nefarious reason, though- and it’s not like he can hold any judgment anyway. He’s… He’s not really Caleb. He’s not even a person. Just a sentient robot that resembles him to a shocking degree and soothes that ache in your chest- just by a smidge.

…And yet when he looks at you, suddenly, tilting your jaw up so he can admire what he sees in the darkness- your stunned expression lit faintly by the moon- it’s like he’s reading this in his own way.

His interpretation? you realize in a shaking breath?

He’s no longer holding his little sister, but a woman.

It’s in his eyes, rippling as he exhales deeply (all artificial, albeit you don’t dwell on that for long) and thumbs over your lip.

A boyish kind of wonder lifts his brow as he stares, cheeks slightly flushed.

Your heart bangs in your chest. Like gunshots punctuating the silence. It grows to be unbearable. This is weird, and wrong- the way he’s looking at you. But you quickly chalk it up to a malfunction.

It’s all a fluke, technology fucking up in a way that reminds you of humanity’s shortcomings and how far they can only go.

Finally, you’ve found the fault in its design. The place where Caleb and not-Caleb differ.

You know your beloved older brother like the back of your own hand, so when his eyes flutter (flash, almost) and he lurches forward to clumsily press his lips to yours— you label the action for what it really is.

An inaccuracy.

Perhaps, you think as you close your bleared eyes and let him, the only. Because the rest of his program is perfect. Infallible.

The scene unfurling is foreign- his big hands cupping your cheeks as he kisses you like his life depends on it- but as he shifts you beneath him and hovers atop, that signature softness remains. Really, as his fingertips reach for your shorts—

(A blip of something mechanical in its fiery gaze, almost as if it’s trying to rectify itself; the shortest of pauses—)

It’s all that grounds you.

“Caleb,” you moan, or cry. You don’t know. Just that when he helps you out of your panties to go down on you, digits delving inside your tight hole after he wets it with his tongue, your heart sings for him.

You don’t push him away. No, even as the humanoid sullies your late brother’s image with all his sinful hungering, you can’t break yourself free. Never find it in you to.

Because it doesn’t matter what he treats you as. You realize belatedly, with no small amount of horror, that you don’t even care how many flaws Not-Caleb has. He could have a million for all you care, you’re already too far gone- writhing underneath him as he holds your legs open and feasts- to pretend you have any right to feel offended.

And if the real Caleb was here, he’d hate you: an echo in your skull, sneering. He should, but-

“There, Meimei, ngh…” a hot tongue (no longer as cold as he was in stasis) laves along your folds. Mauve eyes look up to you with reverence, glittering in the dark.

“Just like that. Moan, say my name- I’ve been waiting for this for so long…”

You wear ignorance like a blindfold. Shutting your eyes and ears.

A fluke. His hardware stalling.

His hair woven in your fingers feels like velvet. Soft, silky; hanging over his brow as he eats you out- skillfully, might you add. Albeit his passion wins out by just a touch against his expertise, clumsily plunging his two middle fingers into your pussy.

“You taste so good, so sweet- mmph- I’ll take care of you, okay?” He mumbles in between lewd squelches.

In both physical and moral terms, there is not one thing about this that isn’t filthy.

Y-You know that, but…

“Don’t worry. I’ll- ah- I’ll make sure you feel real nice. I’ll make you come as many times as you want. I’ve been… dreamin’ of this for years now… I won’t mess this up, okay? I’ll do whatever it takes until you’re shaking.”

-but this is all you have left of him.

Hazily, you glance down to him, cheeks aflame, and barely succeed in asking, “C-Caleb- h-how are you even gonna-? You-“ you choke on the words you need to say. With a mite of dry humor, you think right then that you’re short-circuiting just as bad as him (because he is).

“Are you capable of it?”

Of fucking you? Of pinning you down and throwing your ankles over his shoulders to better plow you into your creaking, old mattress?

His brow twitches slightly. Voice ragged, he makes an agreeable sound, pressing a kiss to your clit so adoring it’s almost funny when his finger bends sensually inside you. “Are you doubting my abilities, Meimei? I’ll have you know I’ve been practicing this moment in my head for—“

No. You slam your eyes shut and drown it all out.

His words become a white noise. No different than the steady whir of the air conditioning as a cool breeze gusts beneath your door, cooling your forehead where it beads with sweat.

A- A glitch, you quietly decide. Even long after he’s made you cum thrice (twice on his fingers and tongue, once on his thick, flushed cock), you hold staunch to that.

It’s all just a fluke.

✦

When the sun rises, you wake with a start to a phone ringing- yours- and swallow a lump of unease at the figure lying beside you (your Gege, a voice in your head reminds: you silence it).

Prying off the solid arm around your waist to gingerly exit the room- still half-naked- you piously ignore the cum caked to the inside of your thighs. Yours, it must be. You don’t focus on the confusion, either, the ask of just how the hell last night was possible and why you let your emotions get ahold of you.

(Because you love him. And maybe, just maybe- in your own weird, admittedly morally-grey way- you can cobble together a sense of normalcy with him. At least just for a little bit...)

As you head to the living room downstairs, you tap your phone and lift it to your ear.

“G-Gran,” you say as greeting, smoothing your hair back, still quite ruffled over… recent events. Ruffled and ashamed.

Very.

But- while he looks like Caleb, he’s not in reality. That… malfunction last night is a blatant proof of that. You only got on your back and let him have his way with you because you’ve missed his touch so much that you’d quite literally accept it in any form.

If sex or his lips battling against yours- his whispered vows, as seemingly heartfelt as they were errant to Caleb’s true character- is all you’ll get of him, then so be it.

In your own way, messed up as it is, it’s almost like with his android, you get a chance to reconcile with the loss.

To say goodbye.

Because before that package arrived at your doorstep, you didn’t have the luxury of one.

A familiar, aged voice sounds over the line. “Hey, dearie, oh- I didn’t wake you, did I? You sound tired.” She’s one to talk, you think to yourself- but not with malice. Truth be told you’ve worried for her as of late.

It’s been lonely for you both, you’re sure, but even though she only lives on the other end of Linkon, you have trouble making the drive. You haven’t dropped by in a couple weeks.

There’s a few different reasons.

It’s hard to pretend you’re fine when you’re not, for one, that what happened with Caleb- the abruptness and lack of conclusion, the confusing aftermath of it all- never did. You try your best to plaster on a smile and be strong in your grandmother’s presence, but that’s easier said than done. Especially when that old house of hers is jam-packed with photos and tokens of your past with him— painful reminders whenever you do visit.

The newest excuse for not is guilt.

Frankly, Gideon is the only one who knows what’s going on. Hah- no surprise, being he was the main reason for your even ordering not-Caleb.

But Gran doesn’t know.

You haven’t told her about him. And after last night, what with your own release still dried to your legs (which wobble slightly; he was every bit passionate and then some), you don’t think you ever will.

She might actually slap you across the face, taking your willingness to believe in such a lie as an offense against her grandson’s vibrant character.

…If she found out what happened- that you opened your legs for him and moaned- she might go into cardiac arrest.

You didn’t… want that to happen, definitely not- I mean, you didn’t even have the time to prepare. But yes, you did let it.

And curse yourself for wanting your brother back, but—

“No, it’s fine, Gran,” you glance over your shoulder to the staircase. Finding it empty, you let out a breath. “Is something wrong? It’s… It’s early.”

—you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel a little fucking blissful to wake up to his face again, just like back when you were inseparable kids.

She sighs on the other end, “no, no,” she starts. You think you hear a TV in the background; something to fill the silence you leave her to sit in. “Nothing’s wrong, my dear. I just… I haven’t seen you in a bit. I miss your face, Y/n. How are you doing?”

Like a dart to a board, guilt lands its mark.

You shouldn’t fluster at such a simple question, but you do. Not just because it’s so direct and genuine, but because a big hand rests over your shoulder and suddenly Caleb is there, standing behind you.

You straighten up from where you’re propped against the wall and quickly lift a hand to silence any words he may speak.

“I-I’m well, Gran. Sorry, just- I’ll visit soon, I promise.”

“I’d like that,” she murmurs. You’re aware of how much she means it and close your eyes with a wince. A broad palm, as if sensing your inner turmoil, rubs your shoulder soothingly.

You rub the bridge of your nose and don’t look.

“What’s… What’s been keeping you?” She broaches after a beat. Laughter from the television fades in and out over the speaker.

For a second, you freeze. You freeze because you fear she might know.

All for naught: “You’re getting enough sleep, right? I don’t want you overworking yourself. I know you’ve had a lot on your mind, sweetie- oh, God knows we’ve both suffered all these months without Caleb, but that’s no reason for us to fall apart either-”

You sigh shakily and bite down on a cry.

“Yeah, I know. But I’ve been better, Gran, okay? I…” Shiftily, you wet your bottom lip and give a half truth- as if that can relieve you of this weight. “I was talking with Gideon a little; he’s…. he helped me.”

She sounds pleasantly surprised. “Oh? Good, good. What about?”

Nosy as ever. Not that you’re complaining. It’s good to know someone cares- someone… real.

You swallow your unease. “He was just talking to me about his job and stuff. EVER... He told me he was finally getting that raise or whatever, so he’s doing well... I- I was prying per usual,” you joke to lighten the mood, “He, uh… he tells me more than Caleb ever did, so…” (And when his name started to feel like a sin to say, you don’t know.) “So, you know. I was just curious. He was checking in on me, too…”

Warm breath fans at your ear, fingers closing around your shoulder as he peppers kisses at your neck insistently- and you shudder. Clasping the phone tighter (because it suddenly feels unstable in your hands), you shrug off (not)Caleb for just long enough to say,

“Gran- I- I gotta go. Uh- someone else is calling me,” and to preclude any probing on her end- or extra guilt on yours- you add, “I’ll visit tomorrow, okay? I promise. I’ll- I’ll be there. I love you.”

A voice timidly mirrors it back, and then a big set of hands is taking the phone from you and ending the call.

You turn to him with a notch in your brow as he pockets it in the sweats he must’ve hastily thrown on after finding the bed empty.

“Caleb-“

You start, and his lips press to yours.

With some encouragement- hushing you between kisses, knuckling down your cheek affectionately- he shepherds you back upstairs, to your room.

“Nuh-uh, just let me take care of you, pretty girl, ‘kay?” He murmurs, smiling. You could die in peace to it, you think hazily as he lies you down— because the last mental screenshot you took of him before the accident was his handsome face crestfallen after you’d said something scathing.

To your defense, at the time, you thought he’d deserved it. Maybe he did. It’s hard to remember, but whatever the argument was about, it must’ve been stupid. Not worth it.

And… he’s not Caleb, he’s not, you know that, but…

“Lie back. It’s… It’s just you and me here. I want you to know that. And everyone else-“

(Gran, you realize he must mean; Gideon and all the other familiar and unfamiliar faces both at EVER.)

“None of it matters now. Just focus on me. On Caleb.”

(And how eerie is that? You muse with a whit of your rationale. The rest, as it withers, perhaps only does so for the sake of your own sanity.)

The whole world as it stands: nudged away to oblivion at his behest.

“O-Okay,” you give.

He’s not Caleb. But if this is your best- only- shot at reconciliation, then you’ll take him with arms open.

…

When he’s done priming you, he clambers on top and you experience a repeat of last night.

Deja vu, as fresh as a wound reopened, makes your mind lag a few increments behind reality. But when he starts to slow down, thrusts growing sloppy- it feels oddly real, and, head a bit clearer than last night, you register that.

…But it’s your release that stains the sheets. Steadily trickling from your hole, slicking his hips. It only makes sense that way; he might fuck like a human, but that’s all inherent to his program, you’re sure, built to please- and ultimately, he’s made of metal. Rods. You think you can feel them when you grab too tight, that hardness.

He leads you to the proverbial end of the cliff, and you survey the bottom one last time before- geronimo- you make that final leap.

When not-Caleb comes, he shudders in your arms.

Yet you swear… You swear something inside him, behind his lidded eyes, deeper in-

It’s like it shutters.

A flash. Brief and jarring, for a moment so bright it’s like your eyes have been virginal to light all along.

Just a malfunction, you decide with a spent sigh, sweaty in his solid arms as they make a cage around you, eager to sleep until noon.

Maybe you’ll mention it to Gideon next time he drops by.

Maybe he would know how to fix it.

✦

The days that follow after are foggy and empty. Like a moratorium of everything that once breathed in your life.

You wreathe not-Caleb’s neck with that beloved apple-shaped locket like he’s earned it.

Knowing nobody ever could.

✦

Gideon knocks, one afternoon.

You send him away. Or- Caleb does.

At that, you feel the need to remind him of who he is: the people he cares for, his career path, how he operated as a person before the incident in his suite in Skyhaven.

Caleb stops you short, a palm dwarfing the back of your own, and says I know. I just don’t want my buddy interrupting our time together, Pipsqueak. Can you blame me for wantin’ it to be just you and me?

You stop going out.

He doesn’t let you- not really. I mean, he doesn’t explicitly declare these rules over you, but it’s in the strange glint in his eye- the one that makes you shut your mouth and purse your lips- when he stops you at the door and suggests you stay.

Says it’s better that way. Says he worries whenever you go. Says to take him with you instead if you really must.

Progressively, you’re drifting farther and farther out from shore. Mentally-speaking, you’re going off the deep end. But exiting your house hand-in-hand with your brother- the man the town declared dead in an email you couldn’t bear to finish reading- as he stares at you like a lover, is, no matter the ache, something you can’t quite bring yourself to do.

It’d make this illusion just a smidgen realer. You’d never wake from this dream if other people saw it- saw him- and therefore made his presence more solid in your mind. (Not to mention the disgusting assumptions they’d make- none exactly wrong.)

You’ve been so consumed by grief lately, though, that the knowing of your imminent breakdown can’t stop you from making other bad choices.

So when the brunet altogether bars you from going out in public for the fear that something bad will happen to you (nonsensical; not that he sees the flaws in his arguments), insisting that groceries can be bought online, Gran can be checked up on over the phone, etcetera—

Yeah, you bend to it, alright? Sue you. Of course you bend. It’s all you know what to do anymore.

Gradually, though, the unexpected charm of not-Caleb begins to fade, and you’re left with a possessive form of the brother you once knew. A man desperately clawing at straws, hellbent to keep you at his side, clingy and insecure and, frankly, sometimes scary.

As the inaccuracies build, you’re not sure for how much longer you can overlook them.

The only reason you even tolerated him originally was because he was passable. More than that, even- he was perfect. A dead-ringer for Caleb in both appearance and personality.

But this-

This isn’t Caleb. No longer. It never was.

You don’t believe it for a second.

You heave a soft sigh. Anything louder than a breath brings the chance that he’ll overhear from where he stands in the kitchen and come zipping over, no doubt ready to fret and question you. If you value your time alone- rare as it is these days- then you’ll stay silent.

It’s a near impossible task to separate yourself from him. It was a small miracle in itself that you managed to break away for half an hour or so- but even that was begat by a lie. It seems the only real way to rid yourself of the overly doting, obsessive older brother (even if just for a few minutes) is to give him another demand. This time, it was an ‘I’m hungry’ that finally earned you some peace and quiet.

It’s a little sad, but lately you treat him more or less like a jacket after entering a warm home: you’re eager to shrug him off because the climate has changed.

The climate has changed.

He- He’s changed.

He’s growingly insane and yes, while the irony of that observation isn’t lost on you (considering you’re the mad woman who bought a human-like robot as a replacement in the first place), you still can’t help but feel alarmed as the signs of wrongness don’t cease but worsen.

You think about pressing the button. Turning him off, sending him away.

Hell, maybe you’d just dump him in the communal trash receptacles out back. Leave him there in a human-shaped bag for the garbage men to come and squint at before hauling away like junk.

…Because he is junk, right? No different than a crumb on the floor, you’d once said.

Perhaps you’ve lost it.

The section of your brain responsible for caring must’ve shut off, though, because it’s currently hard to feel much of anything.

…But there, like a soft stirring (or the voice of God as it whispered to Elijah)- you can sense it. That feeling is reminiscent of a survival instinct, or a watered-down version of it to tired nerves, breathing down the back of your neck where hackles rise—

What are you doing here?

The dream begins to fissure in real-time when Caleb (not-Caleb, you harshly remind yourself) cheerfully patters into the living room where you sit, helpful as ever, and his eye flashes as it settles on you. No different than a camera would.

The food looks delicious, per usual- you’d expect nothing less of your brother or even the robotic copy of him- but as nausea churns in your belly and you jolt upright, slapping a hand over your mouth as you run to the bathroom, nothing can save your appetite.

You shakily lock the door- but he’s knocking in an instant, worried.

You always did melt at his bleeding heart. Too often, men, especially the bigger of them, fell under the persuasion of apathy. Yet your gege was always different, always sweet, always gentle and patient and- yeah, okay, sometimes he was a touch mean, teasing to a fault- sometimes to the point of tears on your end as he quickly tried to right his wrongs- but he was preciously yours.

And he was real.

Dammit, he was fucking real-

He was alive and emotionally tangible in a way that this awful fucking hunk of metal is not and never will be—

“Pipsqueak-? Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Let me in. A-Are you not feeling well?” His words crack when you say nothing, dutifully ignoring him.

“Y/n… Let me in. Please-! don’t leave me alone, don’t go.” His voice becomes ragged, raw, the longer you don’t answer. Boyish in its vulnerability. “Stay- Stay here with me.”

By God your soul splinters down the middle. But you don’t answer. You- You can’t.

You throw your lunch up in the toilet and then your back against the wall, sliding down it with your hands over your ears like a child.

You don’t care, if he’s shouting and beating at the door, on the brink of hysteria like you’ve heard only once or twice when he was a boy too soft for his own good- you don’t care- you don’t care—

You sit there until he short-circuits out and thuds to the floor.

You flinch when he does.

Only then, however, do you tiptoe out- careful lest you trigger some internal response from him- to quickly pull on a hoodie and put your hair up, locking the front door behind you.

You don’t know for how long he’ll be conked out, but if luck is on your side, it’ll be for long enough to run to the local corner store and buy a pregnancy test.

You know you’re losing it, the little sanity you had left after your brother passed— misreading a common cold for a veritable child swelling in your womb.

It’s laughable: using your sleeve (another old piece of his clothing you ‘borrowed’, never to be returned) to dot away the tears at your lashline, you do laugh on the short trek to the convenience store.

But if not a reminder that you really are going crazy, losing control, then at least it’s just an opportunity to get some fresh air for a bit, right?

(…You also know that the first step to regaining back said control is to say goodbye to not-Caleb.

As it stands, though, you’re just-

You were never ready.)

✦

Two pink lines.

The thing clatters to the bathroom floor, and you along with it.

You sink to your knees and the white walls surrounding you feel more like an asylum than a space in your own house- because yes, you must be delusional. This is the final nail in the coffin.

But this- this can’t be right. It’s impossible. In the strictest sense of the word it’s impossible!

Heavy feet traipse in the kitchen; the livingroom; the hall, searching for you with faint, candied beckons of your name.

You rub your face as if to feel the color as it seeps from your complexion, and tell yourself that you’ve positively lost it as you thoughtlessly choose one of the corners to slump into, hyperventilating.

You’ll- you’ll send it back to EVER... You’ll send it back and forget and move on. You’ll move on. You’ll stop grieving, you’ll squirrel away your fraying, final memories of Caleb like you did all those precious photos in that old shoebox in your closet.

You’ll-…

A breath. The fan whirs.

The faucet, going full-blast, sputters, effectively drowning out the sounds you make as air becomes a tricky thing to intake; thick enough to choke on.

You’ll throw yourself into the fifth stage of grief then crawl out the other side of it if that’s what it takes to undo this fucking reality you’re lost in-

“Pipsqueak?” A hand on your shoulder.

Broad, big. A little weathered.

But gentle always. Gentle always. Just like you remember. Just like when Caleb meant Caleb; not the big glorified toy that walks and acts like him as an admittedly convincing, yet ultimately faux locum.

Your heart stills, hanging pendant in your chest. You swing from that uncertainty. By God you’d beat that handsome face in- oh, but by God would you kiss it, too.

The door sways on its hinge by splintered fragments, creaking behind the brunet.

Timidly, you lift your head over your shoulder to meet his eye where he towers behind you, violet hues softening with concern. They drift lower, honing in on the little item by your knee, wayward.

He coos immediately, enveloping you in his strong arms.

The feeling- it’s not exactly like that of the one you’d get while swimming in a hot tub, engulfed in its steaming waters, but it’s not too far off either. You let him hold you, unseeing as he all but sings in your ear, and restore the warmth to your bones.

Like a dead thing, or prey, you hang limp in his firm grasp. Terribly uncertain.

“Shh…” he croons, and you only realize a belated moment later that you’re crying. Hard and ugly.

He pets down your hair, ever the comforter, and as you press your head against his barrel chest it’s almost like you can hear a faint whirring in lieu of a heartbeat- speedy but low.

Unreal. Unreal. But then how-?

Perhaps you’ve lost it.

“We’ll figure it out together, honey,” you think it’s a barely concealed smile you register at the crown of your head, pasting down a kiss. “But no more cryin’, okay? I can’t stand to see you like this… Let me draw you a bath, hm? I’ll light some candles and we can talk about it. But don’t be scared. This is… such good news,” and then he laughs- a boyish, marveling little laugh that digs deep into your heart and twists.

The button, between his breastbone, just out of reach, glows faintly through his shirt.

For a moment you’re ready to press it like a player would on a game show— with urgency— but you blink and see those two pink lines searing themselves into your conscience.

Defeatedly, you shut your eyes. But you don’t shut him off.

✦

With Caleb preparing dinner, you’re able to slip away one evening for long enough to call Gran.

For worried friends and relatives, your voicemail box is becoming quite the hotbed- but among them, your grandmother is the priority.

Propping yourself by the sliding glass door, you brush back the curtain and look out to the small, cookie-cutter yard as you accept the call. Not without a shaky breath to prepare you, though; it’s been over a month since your last visit, and while your calls haven’t been quite as behind, you still wince a bit every time her contact pops up.

You want to tell her.

If not about Caleb, then at least the small bump forming beneath your oversized lounge shirt. There’s excuses for it- ones to be frowned upon, yes, but they’d be believable nonetheless. Obviously, a pregnancy is not something as simple to hide as a robot you can turn on and off and, if needed, stuff in the coat closet until the coast is clear.

You want to tell her. But-

You purse your lips, answering, “Hey Gran.”

The tone of her voice, frazzled and barely holding together, sends a chill down your spine.

“Y/n- where have you been? Is everything okay? I’ve been- I’ve been calling all afternoon.”

You digest that information with a quirk of your brow, scanning across the lawn outside, and a thick swallow.

There’s the voicemails, sure; it was only two nights ago you were poring over them all and holding back tears of guilt. But this afternoon? It was quiet- almost blissfully so, spent curled up to Caleb’s chest on the sofa as you watched an old favorite movie and he happily fed you fruit-flavored candies from his hand every so often.

Nobody called, let alone multiple times. You’re sure of it.

“Gran- what? No, I’m fine. What’s wrong?” You start, tossing a nervous glance behind you, internally grateful that Caleb’s absent humming while he chopped veggies was too distant for the phone to pick up.

She blusters out, apropos of nothing, “Is he there with you?”

Something in you stills.

“Y/n- is he there with you?”

An abnormal rush of blood to your ears and a murmur of your heart as you stand confused. The fingers curled around your phone case jitter.

You hold it closer to your ear.

“What? What are you talking about? I-Is who here with me?”

Does she- There’s no fucking chance- does she know?

How?

Chest thumping, your pulse fluttering in the column of your throat as it bobs uncertainly, you begin to wonder to yourself if this is the time you come clean, lay all your sins out like cards on a table. Make the confession.

Push has come to shove, you think. And fuck if you know where all this is coming from on her end, if Gideon told her or she just miraculously put two and two together or-

An exhale on her end, shaking on its way out.

“Were you not told? Dear-“ she broaches, louder, more firm— and this is just milliseconds before the world as you know it- the one you freed of your hands and let reshape itself around a delicate delusion- buckles at the knees. It’s right before you do, too.

“They found him. They found Caleb.”

That breath, right afterward of her telling you, is like the first one after drowning.

Your eyes widen as you break the surface.

His- His body. The tinny footage they dredged up from the area showed he entered his home, but after the explosion, there was no sign of him, no ash no corpse no nothing— So you don’t know how the hell they managed to recover his pieces, let alone after they already ran clean-up crews through the charred infrastructure and hosed it down- but you’re hysterical at the news.

You were cruelly forced, all along, to just assume he’d been burned to nothingness.

So you don’t even care about the how. How it’s possible or how this is happening after several months of white noise and hurting on your end— you don’t care.

You were made to come to terms with his death, and you did, at most, acknowledge it- but evidently, you could never quite accept it.

…If this is your final chance to say goodbye- even if it just means peering over a metal table in the morgue as he lies disheveled, hardly recognizable under a sheet- so fucking be it.

You’ll say goodbye if it kills you.

“What-? Where- where?” Your tone reflects as much, urgent as you stagger over to the sofa, nearly tripping as you reach for the jacket slung over the arm.

“I-Im coming,” you croak out, words failing you as the velvety carpet feels like mud beneath your bare feet- hard to walk across, every step making you feel like a baby taking its first ones.

One second you’re navigating a truth so unbelievable it’s near violent as it barrels into you; in the next, you’re collapsing under the weight of it, too caught up in your own scrambling for your keys and the door to even think of not-Caleb.

Gran goes to timidly say something, but your ears are shot and you quickly interject, “Let me get dressed- I-I’ll be there! Is he at the morgue?”

“Oh, no, honey,” she quavers out, “He’s alive. The town just messaged me; they made a mistake with his death certificate- they’re revoking it as we speak. He’s in Skyhaven.”

The phone drops to the floor.

And then that, too, gives way beneath you.

…It’s good a helping hand is there for you, then. Shouldering your weight without prompting- fretful as he confiscates the device, no different than a teacher with an unruly student, swiftly disconnecting the call.

It tuts in your ear, but- more sober than you’ve ever been- you can only note the sympathy practically dripping from its tone for what it really is: the upshot of its near immaculate programming as it mimics your considerate gege to a T.

Not-Caleb noses against your nape and sighs.

Mutely, you wind a hand, tottering, uncoordinated fingers and all, behind your back to grope along his chest—

He easily gathers both your wrists in his palm, “hey now,” turning you around. He lifts your knuckles up for a chaste kiss, watching you intently all the while.

A cold weight settles over you, soaking you through like meat left overnight to marinate. From the kitchen, stirfry sizzles in the pan. A few moments more of it and the smoke detectors will fire off.

…He just leans in to peck your forehead though, deaf to the sirens you hear wailing in your head, having mastered the art of playing dumb long ago.

He murmurs, as cloying as cake frosting, “C’mon, Pipsqueak, let’s go eat. Dinner’ll be done in just a sec. I made one of your favorites. After that, we can sit around the couch and brainstorm some more names for the baby- what d’you think?”

Flukes, malfunctions, glitches— no; Not-Caleb, you realize right then, ceasing to blink as you stare at its prototype through the shifting lens head-on, was never flawed.

“…But you’re not leavin’, not to him.”

The real one was.

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔, + 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 ♡

QUESTIONS&ANSWERS HERE

#love and deepspace #lads x reader #lads caleb #love and deepspace caleb #lads smut #love and deepspace x reader #caleb x reader smut #caleb x reader #caleb x mc #caleb x you #xia yizhou #love and deepspace smut #caleb smut #yandere #‧₊ 🍰.┊𝒄𝒂𝒌𝒆𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 #syluses

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nekonaps0 · 9 days ago

Text

Excuse me… SIR?! Pt1

✦part2 part3

✦ characters: third years

✦ gn!reader

✦the boys suddenly cracked a naughty, suggestive joke

✦you guys really loved the “You are NAUGHTY!!” Series so what if we switch it up and the boys gonna surprise you this time!?👀

Trey Clover

You were just baking together, things were perfectly normal. Flour smudged your cheek, his sleeves rolled up, the kitchen smelled like vanilla and sugar. Then he suddenly leans in and says, casually:

“You know… if you keep looking at my hands like that, I might start thinking you want me to knead you instead.”

Your jaw drops.

Your brain short-circuits.

Did TREY just say that?!

“T-Trey!!”

 “What? You like bold flavors, don’t you?”

He just chuckles, unbothered. Keeps going like he didn’t just ruin your soul with that line. And if you try to protest. He’ll lean closer and murmur

“Your cheeks are redder than the jam we’re using… cute.”

He’s so chill but absolutely enjoying watching you fall apart.

Cater Diamond

You were scrolling on his Magicam, casually cuddled on his bed, when he suddenly pointed to a blurry selfie and said:

“Hey, we should totally take a thirst trap together sometime. Like… you on my lap. My hand on your thigh. Caption it: ‘who needs dessert when you’ve got this snack?’ 🍑✨”

You drop the phone.

“C-Cater—!”

He grins so hard and wiggles his brows. He lives for this. Especially the way your face is heating up faster than one of Trey’s ovens.

“Aww~ look at you getting all flustered~ You’d look so sweet. Just say the word, cutie~”

You try to hide behind a pillow. He steals it and takes a selfie of your flushed expression.

“#CursedButHot #ShyBabyEnergy”

Leona Kingscholar

You were sitting together in the greenhouse. It was quiet. Peaceful. He was laying on the grass with his arms behind his head when, without even opening his eyes, he murmured:

“Y’know, if you keep straddling the line between cute and sexy like that… I might have to pin you down and show you what happens to teases.”

Silence.

You choked on air. Your entire face lit up like a tomato.

“W-What did you just say?! I didn’t even do anything!”

He cracks one eye open. Smirks.

“Heh. Look at that. One sentence and you’re already redder than Riddle after a rule-break.”

You stammer. He yawns.

“Come here. I’ll cool you off. Or warm you up. Dealer’s choice.”

You are not surviving this man.

Vil Schoenheit

You were trying on outfits with him, modeling in his room, doing your two private fashion shows. Vil stepped forward, adjusted a strap on your shoulder, then whispered near your ear:

“Darling… if you look this good now, I can’t imagine how divine you’d be wearing nothing but my lip gloss and your confidence.”

You gasped. You literally forgot how to breathe. You couldn’t even form words.

“V-Vil—?!”

He pulled back with a dazzling smile, like he hadn’t just murdered your entire nervous system.

“What? It’s a fashion suggestion.”

Your hands flailed. You made an inhuman noise. He chuckled softly, brushing a lock of hair from your face.

“Mm, I should make you blush more often… it's a stunning color on you.”

Rook Hunt

You were out on a nature walk with him when he suddenly grabbed your hand and spun you under the dappled light.

“Ah, my darling~ Even the sun envies the way you glow… but I envy your clothes most of all.”

You tripped. He caught you with a chuckle.

“Oh? You blush so easily~! Like a rose kissed by morning dew!”

You tried to escape. He followed, twirling you again with flair.

“Shall I write an ode to how divine you’d look draped only in moonlight?”

You are not making it out of this woods walk alive.

Idia Shroud

You were helping him adjust something on his console when he quietly muttered under his breath, clearly not meant for your ears:

“...God, if you bend over like that again I’m gonna need a moment to reboot my systems…”

You blinked. Slowly turned.

“E-Excuse me?!”

Idia's hair flared up like a bonfire and turned completely pink. He absolutely lost it.

“NO WAIT—THAT WAS—THAT WAS A THOUGHT!!! A PRIVATE THOUGHT!! IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO COME OUT!!”

He tries to crawl under his bed, hoodie over his head, wheezing like you just hacked his server. You’re flushed. He’s panicking. And then, you stammer something like:

“...W-Well I didn’t mean to distract you...”

His head bonks the floor.

“YOU’RE KILLING ME.”

Later? You’ll both blush every time you lean over for anything. Ever.

Malleus Draconia

You were walking in the moonlight, having a peaceful chat, when Malleus suddenly turned to you and said:

“Do you think the stars envy me, my love? For while they must shine cold and distant, I am allowed to hold the sun in my arms.”

You melted a little… until he took your hand and continued:

“...And if the night allows it, I would like to burn in your warmth until dawn.”

Your brain: error 404.

You nearly tripped on nothing. You squeaked. Literally squeaked. And Malleus, ever amused by your reaction, smiled faintly.

“Have I said something bold? Forgive me. I merely speak the truth.”

His voice was low and intimate, like velvet smoke. You were barely standing.

“You are divine, and I am quite undone.”

He knows exactly what he’s doing. And he’s not stopping.

Lilia Vanrouge

You were helping him tune his guitar when he suddenly leaned down, his voice a purr in your ear:

“You know, I’ve got a few songs I’ve never played for anyone before. But for you, I might make a private concert… clothing optional.”

You dropped the tuner. Screamed internally. Possibly externally.

“LILIA— WE ARE I. THE CLUB ROOM!!”

He cackled. So proud. Zero shame.

“Aw, don’t go shy on me now~ You started hanging out with a fae general and didn’t expect a little mischief?”

He’ll chase your flustered face around the room, teasing and winking until you flee. He will literally hover over you upside down just to see you blush harder.

“Oh? Speechless already? Shall I start the encore?”

..............................................................................................................................

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ice-man-goes-bwoah · 2 months ago

Note

Thank god someone else sees the potential of remmick’s sub side bc 👀 that man has been looking for connection for centuries - if you were kind to him I think he’d be putty in your hands and it would be glorious. I’d love for you to explore this in your writing - I know you’d kill it and leave me screaming into a pillow haha

Let me be soft with you||Remmick x reader

Summary — remmick has never known an act of kindness in his life until he met you.

Warning smut dom!reader sub!remmick p in v reader rides remmick

Word count—1017

A/n— I LOVE SUB REMMICK AND I NEED MORE

Tagging @abriefnirvana @fuckoffbard

The wind outside howls, brushing dead leaves across the rotting windowsill. The cabin creaks around you—old wood, brittle bones, shadows so thick they feel alive. This place is half-forgotten, sunken into the ribs of the forest like a wound no one wants to reopen. No one comes here. Not anymore.

Not since he made it his own.

You shouldn’t be here.

And yet, Remmick can’t look away from you.

You’re warm. Real. Grounded in a way that mocks the rotting walls and the ghost-thick air. You stand there like you belong, unshaken by the stink of old blood or the teeth of the cold. All soft curves, steady breath, and those kind, quiet eyes that haven’t flinched once—not even when you stepped over the threshold and saw him bare-chested, blood-drenched, wild-eyed.

“You should’ve run,” he rasps, back pressed to the wall like he thinks you might burn him. “Should’ve screamed.”

You tilt your head, like you’re studying a puzzle rather than a predator. “Why would I scream? You haven’t hurt me.”

His jaw flexes. His fingers twitch. There’s blood dried like rust across his collarbone, a streak of it trailing down toward the edge of his sternum. The chain around his neck catches the firelight—dull gold, heavy. Worn not for style, but like penance. Like ownership.

“You don’t know what I am,” he growls. There’s something raw under it. Not menace—shame.

“I do.” You step closer, slow and sure. “And I think you’re tired.”

He flinches like you slapped him.

It’s the kind of answer he doesn’t know how to fight. Not judgment. Not fear. Just truth, laid bare between you. And you, offering it so gently he could scream.

“I’ve done terrible things,” he mutters, voice fraying.

“I know.”

You’re right in front of him now. He could reach you. He could snap your neck. Drain you. Feed on you until the blood runs down his chin. But he doesn’t move. His hands stay clenched at his sides, trembling with effort, nails biting into his palms.

You press your palm to his chest.

His dead heart stutters. Not a beat, not life—but something. Recognition. Longing. Ache.

“You don’t scare me, Remmick.”

And something inside him—something old and ruined—breaks.

He doesn’t remember his knees hitting the floor. Doesn’t feel the pain of it. Just the cotton-soft thump of surrender as he folds, head bowed, hands gripping the hem of your shirt like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His forehead presses into the warmth of your stomach, desperate, reverent.

“Please,” he breathes, voice so quiet it trembles. “Don’t be cruel.”

“I’m not,” you whisper. Your fingers find his hair, slow and soothing, and his whole body shudders like the simple touch is too much. “Let me be soft with you.”

He makes a sound—low, ragged, almost animal. A wounded thing trying not to bleed out in front of you. It tears out of him like a confession. Like a prayer.

You don’t stop. You hold him through it. You let him kneel. You let him need.

“I’m not good,” he says, mouth still pressed to your belly like he’s trying to hide in you. “Not clean. Not… worthy of this.”

“You don’t have to be good,” you say, gentler still. You tug on his hair, tilting his head up until his eyes meet yours—stormy, wide, afraid. “You just have to be mine.”

His breath catches.

God. He wants that.

He wants to belong. To be claimed, even if he doesn’t deserve it. Wants to forget every name he’s ever taken, every throat he’s ever torn open, every night he’s spent drowning in the dark and trying not to feel.

He surges forward, hands sliding up your waist like he’s starving for you—and you let him. You don’t flinch, don’t falter. You hold his face in your hands, and he leans into the touch like it’s holy.

Like you’re holy.

Like if he lets go, he might never find this again.

You guide him to the bed.

He goes willingly, crawling back on the creaking mattress while watching you with wide, desperate eyes. You undress without shame, your full body bathed in the flicker of firelight—and he stares like he’s witnessing a miracle. Not hunger. Worship.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes.

You smile. “You always look at me like that.”

“Because it never stops killing me.”

You climb over him slowly, pressing him down. His breath catches when your thigh settles between his legs, when your weight blankets him. He doesn’t feel crushed. He feels safe.

“Is this okay?” you ask, fingertips brushing his cheek.

He nods, too fast. “Please. I—I don’t want to think. Just tell me what to do.”

You kiss him. He sighs against your lips like he’s never been kissed soft before. Like the world always demanded he take, and you’re the first to give.

“You don’t have to do anything,” you murmur, grinding your hips just slightly. His head thumps back. “Just feel.”

He’s already hard beneath you, hips jerking helplessly, chain cold against your chest as you lean in. You drag your lips down his throat, over the metal links, to the spot above his unbeating heart.

When you rock your hips again, he moans.

“You’re so good for me, Remmick,” you whisper. “So sweet like this.”

His eyes flutter shut. “No one’s ever called me sweet.”

“Then they weren’t paying attention.”

You ride him slow, holding his wrists above his head, letting him tremble under you while his thighs shake and his whimpers fall like prayers. The praise is steady, like rain—washing him clean, softening him where he thought he was stone.

“You take me so well.”

“You’re doing so good.”

“You’re mine, baby.”

“Yours,” he gasps, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes as his orgasm builds. “Yours, yours, please don’t stop—”

You don’t. You stay with him through the high, through the cries and shudders and pleading. When he comes, he falls apart completely—back arching, mouth falling open in silent reverence, body shaking as you ride him through it, gently coaxing him to give more.

And afterward, when you lower yourself to lay on top of him, he wraps his arms around you like a lifeline.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs, voice hoarse.

“You deserve everything,” you whisper back. “Especially this.”

You stroke his hair until he falls asleep.

For once in his long, dark life, Remmick dreams of peace.

#remmick x fem!reader #remmick x you #remmick fanfic #remmick x reader #remmick smut #remmick sinners #sinners remmick #remmick #stack sinners #sinners x reader #sinners fanfiction #sinners fic #sinners movie

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lulunothulu · 1 month ago

Text

“That’s what she said”

Robert “Bob” Floyd x Reader

Summary: A fic in which Bob has the opportunity to say “that’s what she said” and get something out of it 👀

Content: fluff, 18+ sexual innuendoes, some swearing, alluding to sex

Your callsign: Raven

“I have never seen a woman have half her pussy shaved and half of it a bush,” Hangman drawls from his seat by the pool table.

Bob’s eyes widened, falling to you. Only, you weren’t paying attention to him. No, you were drunkenly laughing at the idiot that was Jake “Hangman” Seresin.

“I’m sorry,” Rooster starts, blinking and shaking his head as he takes a seat beside Phoenix. “What the hell brought this up?”

“Raven asked Bagman if he’d ever seen that,” Phoenix tells him. “He responded as you were walking up.”

Bob is still mortified, blue eyes wide and rimmed with laughter at how uncontrollably giddy you were. Your head was tilted back, hand on your chest. Laughter and giggles still lingered on your lips.

Bob had decided he liked the vision your head back, mouth open. Maybe he liked it a bit too much because I finds himself staring at you.

Quickly, he turns away before anyone can notice he was staring, a blush creeping up his neck.

“What about you, Bobby boy?” Hangman directs his attention on him.

When he quirks his brows up and down at him, Bob feels like he’s about to melt into a puddle of flesh and glasses right there on his stool.

Only, he doesn’t get to because you’d sobered up and stopped laughing.

“Hey,” you start. “Don’t fuck with my boy Bobby here.”

“What? Only you get to fuck with him?” Hangman challenges.

“As a matter of fact I do.”

“That’s what she said.” Bob hears Coyote mutter, the blush turning hotter and darker.

Hangman scoffs, taking a swig of his beer. “He wishes.”

“You know what,” you start. “Yeah, Bob would be lucky to fuck me.”

“Why? You got a half shaved situation down there?” Hangman asks, winking at you.

You roll your eyes, turning your attention to Bob now.

Bob had never seen someone so beautiful in his life. You’re everything he could’ve ever wanted. Perfect eyes, perfect nose, perfect body. Hell, you were even funny as fuck with a great personality.

You were right, he would be lucky to fuck you.

“Why not take a ride on this cowboy?” Hangman drawls, his Texan accent a lot more prominent with the alcohol in his system.

“Because you’re too easy,” you respond. You barely make a move to look at him, eyes only on Bob, a playful smirk in your face. “Bobby on the other hand…he’d be hard.”

Bob doesn’t even know why he says what he says next. It just kind of rolls off his tongue before he can think twice.

“That’s what she said.”

There’s a beat of silence before the group begins to howl. Phoenix doubles over, Rooster’s practically crying, and you…you were speechless. Your eyes are wide, mouth slightly ajar in a dumbfounded smile.

“Innocent” Bob has made his first dirty-esque joke and you got be there to see it.

“Woah there Bob,” you start to joke. “Don’t make me ask just how hard it can get.”

Then again, Bob finds himself unable to keep his damn mouth shut. Because next thing he knows, his mouth is moving and more words (flirty words) are coming out of his mouth.

“Why don’t you come over here and see just how hard I can get?”

What. The fuck. Was. Happening??

You smirk, eyes becoming playfully wicked. “You think I don’t know my way around a hard—” You look up and down. “—Situation?”

Bob gulps, your eyes are playful but each one of your words are laced with challenge. Like you’re ready to take him right then and there.

“I think we’ve lost the plot,” Coyote says.

You and Bob don’t hear him, instead, you’re focused on each other. Chests rising in tandem, hearts probably beating at the same rhythm. You don’t even realize the group has moved to another side of the bar.

You can only focus on Bob and those dorky glasses that frame those navy eyes. When was the last time you’d gotten laid? When was the last time a man has looked at you the way Bob is now? Hungry and lust-filled. You didn’t remember and suddenly, maybe out of loneliness mixed with the crush you had on him, you find yourself crossing two steps to get to this man.

You place your arms around his neck, leaning in as far as he’ll allow you. Up close, you can see his pupils dilate, those navy eyes impossibly dark. It’s like the closer you get to him, the more you can feel that he wants to touch you.

So you lean into him, lips barely brushing the shell of his ear, and say, “What’s the matter, Bob? Scared you’ll get too…” And for emphasis, you grind your hips into his before adding the final word. “Hard?”

“Y/N,” he says, finding the courage deep within his stomach. “You wouldn’t be able to handle me if I were hard.”

Bob’s chest is on fire. The way your hips grid into his, the feel of the warmth on and around him is sending him into a frenzy. He finds himself wanting to kiss you, to shove your hands down his pants. He wants to feel your fingers curl around his—

“And what if I said I could?” You whisper back.

Holy shit. You were going to be the death of him.

Bob doesn’t waste any time. He’s standing, towering over you before he hoists you over his shoulder and carries you to the exit. Behind, you both hear the Dagger Squad whoop and scream profanities at you both.

Ignoring them, Bob keeps walking. Out the bar, to his car, and then into his driver’s seat once you’re buckled into the passenger side. He turns to you, chest heaving.

“Can I take you home?”

“As long you take me to yours,” you respond coolly.

When he squeezes your thigh, you let out a yelp. Suddenly, you were excited to see where your flirting is going to take you...hopefully somewhere hard and long.

That's what she (you) said later.

-----

This took so long to finish omg I'm so sorry that it did becasue this was so fun to type up.

#lewis pullman imagines #fanfic #lewis pullman #bob floyd headcanon #top gun bob #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #Bob Floyd can get it

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heartyluv · 1 month ago

Note

cockwarming with caleb and zayne (separately) and they’re sleepy and clingy and won’t let you out of their sight 🫢 omg who said that…

Note: Righttt, like who said that.. 👀 But really, this was so fun, omg. I hope headcanons are okay. I just felt like all the ideas were flowing so easily like this. And I am so sorry if this is too freaked outtt LOLL!!! Thank you so much for the request, luvly!

Creds to @/enchanthings & @/anitalenia for the dividers!

Warning: I feel like cock warming being in this is enough for you guys to understand what’s going to be happening in here.

Caleb

ꨄ︎ Okay so for Caleb, I feel like he comes home after needing to be away for work. Your man is tired and jet lagged, and the first thing he wants to do after he washes the airport off of himself, is take a long nap with you.

ꨄ︎ And duhhh, you are climbing in that bed with him. You two fall asleep, but you wake up maybe an hour into it. He’s knocked out, even snoring a little. While being in his arms is where you’d want to be, you did have some chores to finish up before he got home. So you figure, why don’t I just get up and do them while he sleeps so he gets my undivided attention later?

ꨄ︎ So with the stealth of a ninja—an inexperienced one—you snake out of his hold. You wash dishes, prep for dinner, and you even take a shower. Like that’s how tired he is because I think Caleb would notice if you even twitched on a normal day, let alone sneaking out of the bed.

ꨄ︎ Then bam, another hour goes by, maybe an hour and a half. (I believe you wanted to get back into bed with him, but you didn’t want to wake your poor baby up.) Caleb isn’t necessarily awake, but you know those times where you wake up and you’re half aware for like a second? That’s what happens with him when he notices you’re gone. And he does not like that.

ꨄ︎ He’s like a lost puppy, getting out the bed, groggy, hair messy, and searching for you. It’s a quick search since he sees you as soon as he steps out the room. You’re in the living room, watching something on TV.

ꨄ︎ “Baby, you left me,” he says sleepily, eyes barely open. “Come back to bed. Please?”

ꨄ︎ And you think it’s all innocent, till you look over at him and he has a tent in his pantsss LOLLL. Like okay, it was completely innocent, but I firmly believe Caleb is always semi-hard around you. He actually can’t help it. It’s like his cock is always on go and just ready when you are.

ꨄ︎ He notices you staring and even when he looks like he needs to take his ass to bed, he can’t help but smirk. And don’t get him wrong, he wants to fuck you. But his body legitimately needs more rest, so he tells you what he’s thinking.

ꨄ︎ “Why don’t you come watch your show in the room with my cock inside you? Best of both worlds, don’t you think?”

ꨄ︎ Cock warming is y’all’s thingggg omg. So you make sure you’re quick to follow him. And Caleb doesn’t just want his dick inside of you, he wants skin to skin contact.

ꨄ︎ Now, I’m about to get freaky, so bare with me.

ꨄ︎ You both get undressed, you make sure you have the remote before you lay down, and Caleb’s strong body is right behind you.

ꨄ︎ “Go ahead and find what you were watching,” he kisses your neck. “Let me get you ready for me.”

ꨄ︎ Baby, you’re trying to just click on the damn app to open it but you’re struggling. And you wanna know why? BECAUSE WHILE YOU HOLD YOUR LEG UP, CALEB IS TEASING YOUR CLIT WITH THE TIP OF HIS COCK TO GET YOU WETTTT!!!!!

ꨄ︎ You keep squeezing and clenching around nothing, and the ache in between your thighs is making you dizzy. And mind you, HE’S DOING ALL OF THIS HALF SLEEP, SO IT’S SLOW AND LAZYYY.

ꨄ︎ “I’m about to slide in, okay?” He kisses your shoulder. “You have to stay with me. Don’t want to wake up and you’re not here, again.”

ꨄ︎ And guess what…? When his cock starts to fill you up and he’s a little more than halfway in… You… Have… An… ORGASM!!!!!! Shocked both him and you, but he wasn’t complaining, not one bit.

ꨄ︎ “Holy fuck… If my body wasn’t so tired…”

ꨄ︎ But you assure him it’s okay and he’s fully seated in your soaked cunt, his cock being warmed by your slick and comforted by your tightness.

ꨄ︎ He’s knocked out again shortly after, the sheets over your waists while you play your show on low volume. And you definitely feel him pulse inside of you. It’s comforting in a way.

ꨄ︎ Here’s your overall visual: You just came—unexpectedly—and Caleb’s cock is sitting inside of you. He’s sleeping with his face over your shoulder, his steady breathing in your ear. His big arms hold you so tight, you’re both fully naked, and his strong chest is against your back. And, his hand is on your boob, gently holding it like it’s a stress reliever LOLLLL. You already know, you’re not going anywhere for a good few hours.

Zayne

❄︎ Now for sweet Zayne, I think he’s coming home from the hospital and all he wants to do is be with you. You know those days where you just feel extra clingy for some reason? That’s what he’s feeling. I think between being sleepy and seeing you as his comfort makes his heart so full and warm.

❄︎ But, he frowns when he walks in and you’re not there. No music is playing, he doesn’t hear you humming, he just doesn’t see any sign of you. You’re always doing one of those things when he comes home, so he’s down that he doesn’t see any of it.

❄︎ When he went to text you, it came to him that you told him you were going out with a friend tonight for her birthday. But he smiles when he gets ready to put his phone away to see you had messaged him, telling him you’d be home in twenty minutes.

❄︎ He utilizes that time to do his nightly routine and when you walk through that door? Despite his tiredness, he is hands on.

❄︎ “You look nice,” he kisses your neck as he slides your purse off your shoulder, not even needing to look at the hook to hang it up. “I missed you.”

❄︎ Now, you can’t stop giggling at his ticklish kisses and grabby hands. But you see how tired he is and you’re just as tired from being out, so you know sex isn’t going to happen tonight. So, you suggest cock warming. I don’t think you’ve guys have done it before, honestly. I think you’ve had moments where he’d be sitting inside you for a little bit after having sex, but it’s never longer than a minute or two.

❄︎ “I’m willing to try it. If it lets me feel as close to you as possible, it will become my new favorite pastime.”

❄︎ Zayne doesn’t even want to be away from you while you get undressed. I even think he’s helping you LOLL. Helping you with your heels, sliding your dress off, and had he not showered before you got home, he would’ve been in there with you.

❄︎ But once all of that’s done, you know you have to help him get hard and with what he’s been expecting, he’s already halfway there.

❄︎ Zayne lovessss stimulation. He’s a whining mess when you start to stroke him in his pants, breathing heavily into your mouth as you kiss him tenderly. And the ways he’s talking.. GOOD GOD.. All the while, you’re getting soaked just by doing this. You didn’t even bother with putting panties on.

❄︎ “Is it normal to be so addicted to you? I don’t think I have it in me to be apart from you for any amount of time. Will you indulge me and my selfishness?”

❄︎ Once he lays in the bed, you climb in his lap while he holds his cock to guide himself into you. And it’s literally a breath of fresh air for him when your walls spread to accommodate him. AND WITH THE SLEEPY TONE OF HIS VOICE, IF YOU HAD IT IN YOU, YOU WOULD’VE JUST STARTING BOUNCING ON IT.

❄︎ “Oh, you’re so good to me,” he whispers when you gasp while his cock slides in. “I can’t believe I’ve deprived myself of something so intoxicating.”

❄︎ You actually have him shivering, that’s how good it is. It’s so tender, intimate, and he knows that if you’ll allow him, he’d prefer to be with you like this as much as possible.

❄︎ “Since it’s my day off, I intend to spend all day tomorrow, like this. Is that alright? Because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

❄︎ Every gentle squeeze of your walls is like being welcomed home. And it’s not long till you both fall asleep like this. I just know every time you move even a little bit, he holds you tighter. He’s serious about not letting you go anywhere if he can help it. If he could cook dinner while you wrapped yourself around him, I’m so sure he’d do it LOLL.

❄︎ Between your weight on top of him and his cock seated in your pussy, the man is wrapped in the most luxurious cocoon. This was the closeness he was yearning for.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deespace smut #love and deepspace caleb #caleb x reader #caleb smut #caleb x you #love and deepspace zayne #zayne x reader #zayne x you #lads x you #lads smut #lads caleb #lads zayne

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writersdrug · 9 months ago

Note

Bartender!Simon accidentally running into Waitress!Reader while she’s carrying a bunch of drinks for a table, causing them to spill all over herself 👉🏻👈🏻

Even more bonus points if she’s dressed in a white shirt, iykyk 👀

You're onto something here

Also, combining this with the ask about reader snooping through Simon's flat on the 3rd floor

Warnings: NSFW, slight humiliation, Simon goes from gentleman to having nasty nasty thoughts

It's a busy night - when mid-September rolls in, the nights get colder, and people gravitate towards the warm lighting of the bar through the street-front window. You still have a couple of hours left on your shift, which means Ghost still has a while, too.

He can't remember how many beers he's poured tonight. The noise of the shaker is drowned out by the buzz in his head. Mack wants another PBR. Table eleven still needs their shots and two Martinis. He's in the zone, pouring liquor and juices and bitters with practiced skill. He catches every word from the patrons at the bar - at least, every order. He mumbles out a quick "step back, please" when a gaggle of girls tries to stand near the end of the bar, waiting for their drinks. The bar is completely seated, people stuffing themselves between chairs to place their orders. Somon's got half a mind to tell them to clear out and get the fuck back, but he has to be civil. It won't be this hellish for too much longer - Price texted Simon that he'd be there in a bit to help.

Simon's more concerned about you: you're running around, delivering food and drink, bringing condiments and refilling waters - you're weaving between tables, maneuvering around bodies with a quick "sorry" or "scuse me"... you're at one table, and in the blink of an eye, you're at another. Simon sometimes doesn't realize you went into the kitchen until you're busting the door open with plates of food. You're covered in a light sheen of sweat, your usual chipper attitude dampened by the Friday night rush. Simon doesn't miss the way you scowl when you hear a table calling for you, when both of your hands are full.

You push yourself through the crowd of girls hovering by the end of the bar. You huff, grabbing a tray and some glasses. "Is it national 'Go to a Bar' day?" You mumble, squeezing behind Simon and heading to the free soda gun.

He barely makes an effort to reply. "Must be." He grunts, pulling several bottles from the shelves and setting them on the counter. He's snatching this and that - you fill your glasses with water, sliding behind him and grabbing the various drinks on the end of the back and stacking them on your tray.

A man elbowed his way between the patrons at the bar. "Can I get another DogFish IPA?" He says, sticking his glass across the bar.

Simon groans internally, but he keeps a stoic face. He quickly leans to his left and reaches for the glass - right as you were picking up your tray, now stacked with drinks. You stumble back, not expecting Simon to be so close to you, and bump into one of the girls that crowds by the bar's entrance.

Simon feels his stomach drop when he sees each of the glasses topple over. You're instantly drenched, alcohol splashing across your eyes, which you have squeezed shut from the onslaught of fluids. Your shirt is absolutely soaked; a few of the glasses fall to the ground and shatter upon impact, alerting the entire bar and making their heads turn to you - the man who handed Simon the glass is ogling at you shamelessly, and the girl you'd bumped into turns around with a simple oh…

You're frozen, eyes wide and your entire front soaking. Your white shirt is practically see-through, clinging to your skin and providing little coverage for your pink, lacy bra. You look mortified and on the verge of tears. Your panicked stare drifts to Simon - you think he's going to yell at you, or worse: give you the silent treatment for the rest of the night because he's too frustrated to speak.

Simon is trying to keep his own staring under wraps – your tits look absolutely tantalizing, hugged so tightly by your wet shirt – but he snaps out of his daze when he sees your teary eyes. He drops everything - you're the most important person in the room right now. He quickly takes the tray from you and sets it aside.

"Here-" he shoves a fresh rag into your hands. "Cover up with that." He says, taking you by your shoulders and leaning down to your level. "Third floor, there's a dresser on th' left side, second drawer has shirts. Go dry off 'n get a new shirt, I'll clean this up."

You're too stunned to cry. You're angry, embarrassed, frustrated... there's so much happening around you, so many eyes staring at your fuck-up, but Simon's eyes keep you from losing control of your emotions. He doesn’t seem angry or irate – he’s worried about you. Shouldn't you help him clean up? It's your mess after all. "But-"

"Hush. Go on, luv - you're practically see-through." He quickly turns you around and gently shoves you into the crowd, and you hurry away to the stairwell without protest, holding the rag close to your chest.

Simon sighs. The pub slowly starts to return to normal, though people aren't trying as hard to get their drinks. A sense of shame seems to hang around everyone’s heads, though there was only one party at fault, here. He stares daggers at the girls who are still hovering by the bar. The one you ran into is gawking back in fear - she knows she messed up.

"Get the fuck back." Simon seethes, storming over to the POS. They all scramble away and press against the wall, afraid he might start swinging at them. "Finish ya drinks and leave. 'M closin' your tab. You're done."

They dissipate back into the crowd, right as Soap pops his head out of the kitchen. "Heard a crash, ye alright?"

"Fuckin' wankers can't understand simple orders." Simon grumbles, grabbing a broom from the corner and sweeping up the glass. "Slag couldn't get her ass out th' fuckin walkway and made bird spill a tray."

"Christ, she ok?"

"Upstairs. Changin'. Shirt nearly disappeared when it got wet."

"Need me tae check up on-"

"Got a fuckin' kitchen t' run, don't ya?"

Johnny scoffs and disappears back into the kitchen. Simon continues sweeping - he spots Price jogging up to the building throught he street front window, and he sighs in relief.

Upstairs, you do just as Simon instructed. You're topless, your bra still a bit damp after you tried to towel-dry it with he rag Simon gave you. You're sifting through his drawer, face scrunched as you shuffle through and inspect each shirt. You're a bit miffed at how many plain, black t shirts he has - has he ever stepped foot into an Old Navy? - but, eventually, you hit the jackpot.

You pull a shirt from the very bottom of the drawer. It's army green, a bit worn over the years, with a bit of a natural, masculine musk clinging to it. The right front chest has a skull, a sword, and wings, along with the table "Task Force 141". On the back, in large letters: "LT. RILEY".

A smile creeps its way onto your face. He never said which shirt... he said any shirt. And this is the one you want.

Your bra comes off quicky, the fabric still wet and uncomfortable. You toss it somewhere on the bed behind you – you’re sure Simon wouldn’t mind if you hung it over the back of his chair, right? Can’t be wearing a wet bra while you’re running around the restaurant; you’d have a bra-shaped water stain on your shirt. Or, worse – you’d get sick. And you know for a fact (though he’s never said it to you) that Simon would kick himself if you got sick on the job.

You quickly pull the shirt on - it swallows you, both in size and scent. It smells just like him - the bodywash you catch a whiff of when you pass him, the slight muskiness that surrounds you when he reaches above you to grab something - it's all there, just tenfold. You stand up and pull it down; it covers your thighs down to your shorts, almost making it look like you weren’t wearing any to an unassuming person.

You take a peek around the room: it’s quite cozy, even with a lack of real décor. The bed sits against the middle of the wall, with Carolina blue sheets and a grey comforter. The pillows look rather worn, but there’s at least three of them. There’s a television on the dresser that faces the bed, and a small bookshelf in the corner next to an antique-looking chair, except the shelf is filled with mostly keepsakes and memorabilia. Any books in the room are stacked on the edges of the two bay windows, embedded in the brick wall that faces the street. The only lighting comes from three lamps: one on the nightstand by his bed, a taller one next to the clothes rack near the bathroom, and a lantern-looking lamp that he’s somehow attached next to the door.

Curiosity gets the better of you – discovering anything about Simon that he hasn’t already told you is like striking oil. You pad over to the shelf, leaning down to inspect the various objects. A balaclava, rolled up and tucked behind a box. In said box is a medal, bronze and dull, with a fist tightly holding a blazing torch. A worn-down pair of sunglasses lay next to a ring. A green stone sits on a silver band, nestled between two ivy vines. There’s a picture of the four of them: Simon, Johnny, Price, and even Kyle – you had assumed they had met Kyle through the restaurant industry, but there they all were. Dressed in military uniforms, holding guns and posing with stern faces in front of a helicopter. Simon was wearing a rather terrifying skull mask, the rest of him completely covered by his uniform. You were only able to recognize Simon from his brown eyes, but the man in the photo looked entirely different from the bartender downstairs.

Fuck! You completely forgot that you were a waitress, sniffing around your manager’s office when you should be tending to your tables. You turned on your heel and left Simon’s room, running down the stairs two at a time.

Simon was still in the eye of the storm – barely a word had been passed between him and Price, other than a simple hello when he had first hopped behind the bar. Simon was keeping an eye on your tables, which were currently satisfied for the time being – but damn, what was taking you so long? Were you showcasing all of his shirts? The thought of that would’ve had him biting his cheek to prevent a boner, but he was too busy to be anything but concerned for you.

On cue, you come bounding down the stairs, throwing yourself back into the busy crowd as you tie your server apron around your waist. Simon pours a tap, barely able to make out your form flitting through the crowd, making sure your tables are well-off and happy. Price calls your name over the din of the crowd, and you squeeze yourself through the mass of people to collect the drinks sitting on the end of the bar.

“Sorry!” you exclaim, setting your drinks on a tray. “Had to mop myself up a bit with the rag. Did anyone order anything from my tables?” you ask, looking at Simon.

He’s… occupied. His eyes are trained on your shirt. His shirt. That army green that brought up so many old memories, ones he hadn’t thought of in a long time,..

His shirt. Covering your body – and, fucking Christ, you’re not wearing a bra. You’re completely naked under that shirt.

You’re confused. He’s staring at you with such a shocked, glassy pair of eyes that you wonder if you’ve shot him in the leg. You look down at what he’s staring at – oh, right. The shirt. A part of you heats up in embarrassment, and a part in… something else. Yes, I took your shirt. I’ve got your name on my back. If he’s thoroughly upset by this, he’s not expressing it. And if you’re mistaken in the thought that he looks aroused (you wouldn’t be surprised to find him drooling behind the mask – you know how delicious you look right now), you’ll give him the shirt back eventually and pretend this never happened.

“Thanks for earlier.” You spoke over the noisy chatter around you. “This, uh- I hope it’s ok, it was the first shirt I saw.”

Bullshit. He knows he buried that thing deep in his drawer. He did it on purpose. “’S fine.” He mumbles, still dazed.

You glance at him as you carefully balance the tray on your hand. The printer is dealing ticket after ticket of drinks as Price enters them – the man looks at Simon with a frustrated, tight-lipped glare, working double-time to push orders through.

“I’ll be back to grab the rest.” You say quickly. You scurry off, careful to avoid slamming into anyone this time. Simon nearly has a heart attack when he sees his last name across your back. You might as well have his bite mark branded onto the side of your neck.

This opens up a nasty can of worms for him. He’s a goner – he’s thinking about chasing you around the bar, after hours, while all you’re wearing is his shirt; snatching you up and slamming you down on the bar, shoving his face in between your thighs; what you sound like when he pumps you with his fingers; pounding you against the wall in the office, hips crashing into yours as he growls and grunts in your ear, “wanna wear my fuckin’ name, baby? hmm? wanna make sure everyone in this fuckin’ pub knows you’re mine? I’ll gladly fuckin’ help you, fuckin’ tease-“; god, he needs you, he needs to know what you feel like wrapped around his dick, what you sound like when he’s reaching those spots, he needs your nails in his back and your palm smacking him across his face and your teeth on his neck-

“Simon!”

John’s- no, Captain Price’s voice shuts off the movie playing in his mind. He looks at him, barely recognizing the growing frustration in his eyes – Simon’s fighting his own demons right now, and he isn’t even sure if his Captain’s wrath can save him.

“Stop thinkin’ with your Pork Sword and get your arse back on bar.” Price barks – a few of the regulars laugh at that, and Simon realizes he’d had an audience.

He clears his throat and grabs a ticket, quickly reading it and grabbing a glass. He forces himself to let go of the fantasy – he’ll have all night to think about it once he closes. That, or he’ll be hating himself for even thinking of you in that way, especially when the situation wasn’t in your favor. For now, though, he’s got a job to do. He continues to pour and stir and shake drinks left and right, occasionally stealing glances at you, prancing around with his title.

He knows one thing’s for certain – your bra is still somewhere in his room.

#bartender ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost cod #call of duty #cod x reader

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sharlsworld · 3 months ago

Text

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆ pause — 𝐋𝐍𝟒 𖤓

( 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗌 𝗑 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗓 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ）

（ 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒 ）𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝖽𝗈𝗀 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽， 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇𝗍．．．𝗌𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝖽𝗉𝗈𝗍 𝖺 𝖽𝗈𝗀��𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋

✫ whoever requested this has superpowers or something cause i lowk had this idea a few months ago

🝮

liked by pierregasly and 1,281,554 others

yn first weekend was pretty good p5 for alex and p4 for kimi i’m so proud 🥹🥹

williamsracing It suits you 🥰😍

carlossainz55 *doesn’t post me*

⤷ yn sorry i just miss franco

⤷ francolapinto let’s hangout together hermosa i’m just a few doors down 😉

⤷ carlossainz55 No leave my sister alone

lilymhe finally some good company

⤷ alex_albon 🥲

lando i literally won the season opener and took the lead in the championship and i got no mention at all…

⤷ yn greedy greedy greedy

⤷ lando 😨?

⤷ landossluttywaist and if i said ship then what

⤷ estiebestie then you’d be weird cause that’s her older brothers best friend…

♥︎ by author & lando & carlossainz55

iamrebeccad *doesn’t post me either* 😞

⤷ yn you didn’t approve of the pictures i took of you so now what 😾

⤷ iamrebeccad Because I looked horrendous not all of us can be as photogenic as you baby

⤷ yn omg becca i’m blushing 🙂‍↕️ but don’t even start you were looking fine asfk 😘😘

mercedesamgf1 Kimi mentioned!! 💙

kimi.antonelli yeah boiii had to show off a bit

⤷ carlossainz55 Why did Kimi get a mention and not me? Your brother?

⤷ yn because kimi understands my brainrot

⤷ sharls_lerklerk yn & kimi?? 👀👀

⤷ yn nuarrr he has a gf and plus i’m more of a panther than a cougar 🙂‍↕️

⤷ francisca.cgomes twin

francisca.cgomes you & simba are my fav lunch dates everrr

⤷ yn kiks & simbocaaa 💗

mclaren How about you turn back time and spend next weekend in papaya? 😊 we’ve got the best pink lemonade in the paddock

⤷ yn hmmm tempting

⤷ mclaren We’ve been told our hamburgers are pretty delicious too 🤷‍♀️

⤷ yn sold!!

⤷ carlossainz55 Bug??? No???

⤷ yn carlos??? yes??? they have pink lemonade and hambugers!! i can’t say no to that

🝮

liked by lando and 1,702,542 others

yn recent faces in my camera roll

carlossainz55 Finally 😒

oscarpiastri WHAT IS THAT PICTURE OF ME OH MY GOSH DELETE

⤷ yn bro was munchin

lilyzneimer so cute 😂😂🤍

lando send me that picture

⤷ yn ok i sent it

⤷ lando no the one of oscar not my mom

⤷ lando wait that sounds bad

⤷ landossluttywaist 🚢🚢🚢🚢

⤷ estiebestie GIRL PLEASE 😭😭 lando literally confirmed he’s taken a few days ago

⤷ landossluttywaist taken by who? answer: y/n

⤷ yn nuarrr lando has a gf and i’m more of a cougar than a panther

⤷ kellypiquet twin

⤷ francolapinto @yn HOLAAAA MAMII 😍😍😘 IM COMING MI AMOR

⤷ carlossainz55 Franco please.

⤷ hoeforsainzzz girl are you a cougar or a panther make up your mind 😭

⤷ yn i mean it really depends on the man cause if pedro pascal came knocking on my door who am i to deny him a warm welcome? 🙂‍↕️

⤷ carlossainz55 Bug please.

⤷ yn yk franco ain’t to bad either his eyelashes are beautiful

⤷ francolapinto ay mami i’m close 😩 we’d make the most beautiful babies

⤷ carlossainz55 OH MY

lando hey why are you hanging out with my mom?

⤷ oscarpiastri And mine

⤷ yn what i can’t enjoy some good company?? GOSH SORRY FOR MISSING MY MOMMY AND SEEKING MOTHERLY COMFORT

⤷ reyesvdec Awhh mi amor I will see you soon ❤️

⤷ ciscanorris Your daughter is such a bundle of joy Reyes! She is so kind

⤷ nicolepiastri She really is great company I haven’t had a laugh like that in so long

⤷ reyesvdec You two are so kind, I’m glad she isn’t causing too much trouble at the races without her brother to keep an eye on her 😂❤️

⤷ landossluttywaist reyes & cisca 👀

⤷ estiebestie girl 😭

🝮

liked by tchalamet and 1,392,041 others

yn lovin life lately

francolapinto so much orange

⤷ landossluttywaist dare i say…papaya 😏

♥︎ by mclaren

francisca.cgomes simba & new puppy lunch date when?

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux Leo too!!

⤷ yn as soon as we’re all in china we’re going to lunch guys

alexandrasaintmleux Puppyyyyy

⤷ yn my new babyyy

⤷ landossluttywaist WAITWAITWAIT….walk with me, remember when lando said if he were to get a dog he would need a gf which he doesn’t have??? (liar) and a few weeks ago he said he’s getting a dog…so that means he has a girlfriend right?? someone please agree with me

⤷ alex_albon i’m 10 toes behind you girl

⤷ lilymhe alex 🤦‍♀️

⤷ landossluttywaist DID ALEXANDER JUST CONFIRM MY THEORY?????

⤷ estiebestie do you not see franco?

⤷ francolapinto THANK YEWWWWW

⤷ landossluttywaist do you not see the orange flowers??? hellurrrrr I’M RIGHT THEY’RE DATING

⤷ mclaren A little thank you gift to her for joining us in China this weekend 🧡

⤷ landossluttywaist sent from who though? 🤨

carlossainz55 Why wasn’t I in the discussion of you getting a dog?

⤷ yn because you would’ve said no dur

forzacharles lando’s gonna soft launch this puppy after china watch

charles_leclerc Would you make up your mind and decide if you want to be a cougar or panther already I’m getting impatient 😩😾

⤷ yn i can tell

alpinef1team That smile thoughhh 🤩

lando 🔥🔥

⤷ pierregasly yooooo

⤷ oscarpiastri Immediately no.

⤷ pierregasly what a buzzkill 😒

⤷ landossluttywaist i am a lanyn believer idc the truth will come out and all you will rue the day you laughed at me and called me crazy.

⤷ estiebestie okay nevel calm down

🝮

lando

liked by lissiemackintosh and 3,551,164 others

lando this is my girlfriend. we were gonna wait until our 1 year anniversary in may to hard launch but i couldn’t deal with everyone thinking her and franco were dating for any longer. i am her’s. please don’t be mad babylove.

yn yes guys the flirting with franco stuff was lando on franco’s phone because people were getting suspicious

⤷ estiebestie wow…

yn it’s okay papi i still love you 😘😘

⤷ carlossainz55 Stop. I’m telling mom and dad.

⤷ oscarpiastri I can’t even escape you two on social media anymore 💔

georgerussell63 They started dating the day he won in Miami btw

⤷ pierregasly FAWKKK THATS SO CUTE

⤷ georgerussell63 Why are you acting like this information is new to you? You were literally there when he asked her

⤷ pierregasly I just love love damn 😒

landossluttywaist NOW WHAT HAHAHA I WAS RIGHT EVERYONE VENMO ME RN

⤷ estiebestie noo bruhhh FAWK

forzacharles wow i was so wrong…he didn’t even hard launch the dog just casually dropped that he’s dating his best friends sister

⤷ forzacharles I WAS WRONG TWICE HE HARD LAUNCHED THE DAY AFTER THAT POST

iamrebeccad ❤️❤️

charles_leclerc this was NOT on my 2025 bingo card

⤷ yn we’ve literally gone in double dates with you & alex?? you’re the one who this picture

williamsracing So we have to share her now? 😢

charles_leclerc Can I get a round of applause for not slipping up these past two years??

⤷ yn bare minimum but wtv

maxverstappen1 Thought about leaking your guys’ relationship last year after Zandvoort fr

⤷ lando but you didn’t cause you’re scared of y/n LMFAO SCAREDY CAT 🤣🤣

⤷ maxverstappen1 Shut up she gets mean when she’s angry. I’ve seen her make Carlos cry. And remember when she almost made Fred cry??

sharls.eclair 1 YEAR??? HOW TF DID NO ONE CATCH ON IN 1 WHOLE YEAR??

mclaren Best kept secret 🧡🤫

alex_albon trying to act all nonchalant

🝮

liked by alexandrasaintmleux and 1,164,553 others

yn lowk a boring race ngl but super happy for oscariño and my baby lan for a 1-2 🤍🤍 can’t wait to see what japan brings us

carlossainz55 *no mention of her brother once again*

⤷ yn you’ll get those points in japan brother trust I BELIEVE

⤷ alex_albon rare sighting of little sainz not bullying her older brother

⤷ yn only cause my parents told me to be nicer

⤷ alex_albon of course

lilymhe Ugh you are so cute

⤷ yn nǐ hǎo fine shyt 😼

lando words cant explain how happy i was to finally be able to run to you after a race

⤷ yn AWHHH I LOVE YOU SHUT UP

⤷ lando I LOVE YOU THE MOST

oscarpiastri BRO STOP PLEASE

⤷ yn omg i’ve never heard you say bro

hattiepiastri that last picture is a gem

⤷ yn truly is 🫰🏽

francolapinto look at that smile 😍😍😍😍 tell him to meet me in my hotel room 😘

⤷ yn no?

⤷ francolapinto FINE i’ll just wait outside of his hotel room

⤷ olliebearmen this whole time we thought franco wanted carlos’ little sister but it was carlos’ best friend who he really wanted deep down

⤷ yn yeah that picture i posted of him in my last post he was literally looking at lando in that

⤷ pierregasly you got something to tell me franco?? i won’t snitch i promise

⤷ yn me when i lie

⤷ pierregasly what are you trying to say 🤨

⤷ yn you’re a fucking blabbermouth 😐 when i told you i might have a little crush on lando you told charles like 10 minutes later

⤷ carlossainz55 Why did Pierre know before me?

⤷ yn cause pierre loves to be in everyone’s business

⤷ pierregasly I JUST LOVE LOVE GOSH I’M SORRY JUST SAY YOU WANT ME TO CRAWL IN A HOLE AND DIE

pascalispunk I hope I get to meet you in Japan!

⤷ yn oh hellooooooo i’ll be your tour guide 🥰

⤷ lando don’t make me baby trap you i’ll do it idc

⤷ francolapinto ik lando don’t play about her

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smau #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris insta au #lando x reader #f1 smau #f1 imagine #franco colapinto x reader

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shouyuus · 28 days ago

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I've been seeing this trend every where but how do you think our haikyuu boys would react to "this is my current boyfriend" 👀 I just know atsumu would throw a fit

not the fact that i had to look this up bc im so behind on sm trends but i actually now love this trend and absolutely atsumu would not fucking have it --

sfw, aggressive green flag atsumu

"hey guys -- so today, my current boyfriend and i are gonna be making some onigiri based on --"

"ha?"

you pause, blinking owlishly at the camera before pivoting to stare at your boyfriend. he's staring back, both eyebrows in imminent danger of disappearing into his hairline.

"what?" you ask, feigning innocence.

atsumu narrows his eyes.

"oi, what did you just call me?"

"i -- my current boyfriend -- is there something --"

"your current boyfriend," he parrots back, folding his arms across his chest. you lick your lips, feeling a fit of giggles tickling at the back of your throat.

"yeah, cause... that's what you are... right? currently, you're my boyfriend."

atsumu puffs out an annoyed breath, "uh, way i see it, i'm yer only boyfriend. now, 'n ferever --"

you try not to crack at the way his accent skyrockets; not that he usually tries to hide it but you've always loved the way his osakan twang gets thicker when he's agitated or excited.

you feel a hot flush eating into your cheeks, "right, so there's nothing wrong --" you turn away from him, pressing your lips tight to keep from grinning too hard.

"no, jus' say it normally -- i'm yer boyfriend --"

the tickle at the back of your throat gathers until you can't swallow it down anymore. you burst out laughing.

atsumu, to his credit, scoffs and eyes the phone before reaching out to click off the recording.

"y'tricked me."

you shake your head, clutching at your stomach; there are tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

"i -- i didn't! it was -- you -- you are my current --"

atsumu leans forward to hoist you into his lap, shaking you by your shoulders, even as he pins you to the table with a smirk.

"say that one more time t'my face," he goads, leaning in so close his nose almost brushes yours. you bite back another fit of giggles, blinking rapidly at him as he bears down over you.

"t-tsumu -- don't --" you squeal as he buries his face in the crook of your neck and blows a loud raspberry, his fingers digging into your waist. you try to squirm away from him, but he huffs right against your skin, tickling you on purpose.

"current boyfriend -- like yer gonna have another boyfriend or sumthin' --" he mumbles, scowling as he looks up at you from dark, hooded eyes. you still, crinkling our nose slightly as you tug on the ends of his bleached hair.

"well... you won't be my boyfriend forever, right?" you ask lightly.

atsumu opens his mouth to argue but he freezes before chuckling and leaning back to fix you with another shrewd look.

"mm... not ferever," he agrees, nodding as he looks you over; you feel a tingle race up your spine as he rakes his eyes up and down your form, still propped up in his lap. he leans in to brush a strand of hair from your cheek, brushing it with his knuckle.

"jus' till i marry ya, right?"

#⛈ monsoon season #atsumu miya #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq atsumu #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #hq atsumu x reader #hq!! x reader #hq!!#haikyuu x you #atsumu x you #atsumu fluff #atsumu x y/n #anime boys galore #this was rly cute to think about u__u <3

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wordsofwhimsy · 4 months ago

Text

𝙀𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙔𝙤𝙪 - Pt. 1

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

[🇦/🇳]⦂ I'm not specific with his looks or costume so this can be any variant that tickles your fancy! Just know tho that for me, that's Mohawk Mark 👀

【ＰＡＩＲＩＮＧ】 ⦂ Variant!Mark Grayson x Reader

【ＷＡＲＮＩＮＧＳ】 ⦂ Violence, possession

【ＩＮＳＰＩＲＡＴＩＯＮ】 ⦂ 100% inspired by reading tokoyamisstuff‘s Variant!Mark fic called “Second Chance At Love” (it’s a 2 parter and SO GOOD – you MUST check it out)

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

You were fucked.

There was no sugarcoating the situation – things were looking grim. Your breathing was labored as you laid face down on the pavement beneath a car. There was a constant rumble in the ground as buildings collapsed all around the city, the sound of desperate screams overlapping one another and turning into a stomach-churning cacophony of horror. The day had switched so abruptly from calm and peaceful to utter chaos that your brain didn’t have time to fully comprehend what was happening. One minute you were enjoying a light lunch at an outdoor café, and the next you were cowering for your life under some random vehicle.

From what you could gather from your small window of sight, someone who resembled the hero named Invincible was making short work of the city – why? You couldn’t even begin to guess. You were never overly interested in the life and goings on of supers, and made no effort to keep up with the latest happenings in their world. As far as you were concerned that was all way above your paygrade.

But even with your bare minimum knowledge, you knew that Invincible was one of the good guys. And from the few glimpses you saw, this super had a slightly different costume. Whatever the situation, you couldn’t help but kick yourself for choosing to stay in the city. Your mother had been nagging you for ages to move back to your rural hometown, claiming that it was safer and better for your health. You’d hate to hear what she was saying about the current events unfolding…

The cramped and shaded spot you were hiding in abruptly became open and sunny, the sound of creaking metal almost deafening overhead. “There you are!” a voice rang out. Turning slightly to look up towards the sky you’re greeted by the darkened silhouette of a super, the small shine of his teeth illuminated in the shadow. With one arm he held the car you were hiding beneath casually over his head. “I knew I’d find you somewhere around here.” He tossed the sedan into the café a few yards away with as much ease as you would have tossed a crumpled sheet of paper into a trashcan.

You curled into yourself, arms attempting to cover your head in response to the car crashing into your favorite lunch spot. In the midst of the mayhem you didn’t even notice you were off the ground until you realized all of the ear-splitting clamor seemed quieter and farther away. Cautiously lowering your arms, you opened your eyes to the view of Invincible’s face as he smirked down at you. Had you been saved? That is what heroes do of course, but to save just you in such a widespread catastrophe seemed… well, really fucking weird. “W-What’s happening?” you manage to choke out.

“A lot of fucked up shit,” he responded starkly, his stare raking across the destroyed landscape below. You kept your eyes fixed on him, refusing to see how far up you really were. After a second he returned his gaze to you, the almost wicked smirk still pulling at the corner of his lips. “Aren’t you so glad I got to you first?”

“F-First?” As if on cue, another voice identical to Invincible’s boldly stated,

“Find yourself a toy?” Spinning midair to face the voice, you were beyond confused to find another Invincible, this one different enough to clearly tell they were indeed not the same person yet somehow they were still identical.

“Fuck off and mind your own business,” the one holding you spat back.

“Didn’t mom teach you not to play with your food?” Alarm bells were blaring in your mind, and any thought of this being a rescue mission quickly melted into an abduction story.

“Didn’t she teach you how to shut the hell up?” The other Invincible choked down a bitter laugh before turning away from you and saying,

“Whatever. More universes for me to conquer then.” With a sonic boom he was gone, barreling through buildings on the streets below and leaving nothing but rubble and fire in his wake.

“What a prick…” The Invincible holding your mumbled. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” Before you could think to ask who the hell was that, who the hell was he, what the hell was happening, or anything at all, you were moving through the sky at a speed that left you hanging on just to breathe. You were cradled in his arms like a child, still curled into a tight ball with your fingers locked desperately into his suit.

After some time that felt like an eternity, Invincible made contact with solid ground. Feeling safe to lift your face up and away from his chest, you immediately recognized where you were. “Why are we in Fernville?” Setting you down on your feet, you felt your knees shake as if about to give way beneath you. You gripped onto his arm to steady yourself.

“I figured you’d want to see this place one last time.” Looking at him with wide eyes, you’d finally had enough of the confusion.

“For the love of god can you please tell me what the hell is going on?!” For the first time you saw an expression on his face that seemed almost out of place – heartache.

“Wait – you don’t remember me?”

“I mean, sure, I know of you. I think everyone knows who Invincible is.” Now his face turned to a look of mild relief.

“Ohh, I get it now. You and this Mark never got close.”

“Who the hell is Mark!” Your words came out more as an exclamation than a question, your feelings really running your actions at this point.

“You used to make drinks for me at Coffee & Capes.” You studied his face closely, and after several moments in dawned on you who he was. The tension in your eyebrows lessened.

“Oh wow, Mark... I remember you now. I-I can’t believe you’re Invincible!” And just like that his smirk was back.

“That’s what they tell me.” You shook your head in disbelief, your mind reeling to try and make sense of what was happening.

“But hold on, you said “this Mark”. What does that even mean?” He rolled his neck, eyes glancing wearily in the direction of town.

“It’s complicated. And honestly a lot to explain…”

“I mean,” you scoffed, throwing your hands up. “I guess I’ve got time.” He looked back to you again, this time showing a softness and almost adoration. You quirked an eyebrow, and then suddenly you were being gripped tightly by your upper arms and pulled into him. Without any further warning, he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss. It’s not gentle or tender. It’s forceful, full of a twisted need that leaves no room for you to breathe or think. His kiss felt like a claim, a possession rather than a moment of affection.

After a moment of being frozen in shock, you tried uselessly to pull away. Noticing, Mark pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression dark but oddly satisfied. "It’s been so long since I’ve had you…” His voice dropped, a sickly sweetness to it. "I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you."

【Ｐａｒｔ　Ｔｗｏ】

#invincible fanfic #invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #mark graryson fanfic

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amoressb · 4 months ago

Text

───── STEALING KISSES 양정원 Y. JW

ꪆৎ ⋆˚࿔ he just cant get enough of your strawberry chapstick ｡｡ idol!jungwon x reader .

FLUFF & wc. 900 + ; kissing, skinship, petnames ｡｡

──── ARCHiVE

yang jungwon sat in front of his desk, the soft glow of his ring light perfectly highlighting his features. his fans had been eagerly awaiting this live broadcast and as always, jungwon delivered—laughing, answering questions, and teasing snippets of upcoming music.

“let’s see…’what’s your favorite thing about performing?’ hmm, probably the energy from you guys,” he said with a smile, leaning closer to the camera. “nothing beats hearing you sing along.”

the chat was flooded with love for his answer, but just as he was about to tease another song, the door to his room opened softly.

he glanced up mid-sentence and his words faltered. standing in the doorway was you, his girlfriend, dressed in his oversized hoodie that nearly swallowed you whole. your hair was slightly messy, your face fresh and soft, and your lips curved into a shy smile as your eyes met.

jungwon smiled back, his gaze softening. “uh, hold on a second, guys,” he said to the live audience, waving a hand at the camera before standing up.

the chat erupted in confusion :

“who’s there??”

“what’s happening?”

“was that his manager?”

jungwon didn’t respond, already walking away from the desk. he approached you with a small, fond smile. “hey,” he said softly. “didn’t think you’d wake up so soon.”

“i didn’t mean to interrupt,” you said, your voice just above a whisper, your fingers nervously playing with the hem of his hoodie. “i was just heading to the kitchen…”

“you’re not interrupting baby,” he assured you, pulling you gently into his arms. his lips found yours in a quick, light kiss, a reflex more than anything, but the moment he pulled back, he hesitated, his brows furrowing slightly.

“wait, what is that?” he asked, leaning closer. “what’s what?” you asked, confused.

“that taste…” he kissed you again, slower this time, savoring the soft, fruity flavor lingering on your lips. “strawberry? is that your chapstick?” you giggled, your cheeks flushing. “yeah, it is…why?”

“i like it,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you once more.

“you’re live, wonnie,” you reminded him between kisses, laughing softly as you gently pushed at his chest. “i know, but…” he pouted, his voice dipping into a playful whine. “you taste so good.”

“stop,” you teased, though your laughter only encouraged him. “seriously, go back to your fans before they riot.”

“i don’t want to,” he admitted with a grin, holding you closer. “i’d rather stay here with you.”

you cupped his face in your hands, pressing one last kiss to his lips before stepping back. “go,” you said firmly, though your tone was light. “you’re going to get in trouble if you keep disappearing.”

he sighed dramatically, leaning in for one last kiss before heading back to his desk. “okay okay, but i’m coming back later.”

when he sat down, the chat was in chaos:

“WHERE DID YOU GO??”

“you look too happy right now 👀”

“HE’S BLUSHING! WHAT’S GOING ON?!”

he laughed, scratching the back of his neck, “alright, alright,” he admitted. “someone special is here, and…i got a little distracted, but it’s her fault tho…her chapsticks amazing.”

the chat erupted with laughter, teasing, and endless questions but jungwon just smiled, brushing it off. “let’s move on, okay?”

minutes passed but he couldn’t stop thinking about you. the way you tasted, the soft giggle that echoed in his ears, it was driving him insane.

“actually, hold on one more second,” he said abruptly, dashing out of frame again.

this time, you were in the living room, scrolling through your phone. when you saw him approach, you raised an eyebrow. “wonn,” you said pointedly, though you couldn’t hide your amused smile. “you’re live.”

“i know,” he replied, pulling you into his arms once more. “but i couldn’t stay away.”

“you’re impossible,” you said, laughing as he kissed you again. “and you’re delicious,” he countered with a grin.

“go back before your fans start a petition to find out what’s going on,” you teased, poking his chest. “they already know,” he admitted with a chuckle. “well kind of…i told them it’s your chapstick’s fault.” you rolled your eyes but kissed him again, soft and lingering. “go jungwon. now.”

“fineeee,” he sighed dramatically, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before heading back to his desk.

after another hour, he finishes the live and says goodbye to his fans, jungwon closed his laptop and turned off the ring light. as he got up, he found you still sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone. he walked over and flopped down beside you, resting his head on your lap.

“how’d it go?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair. “pretty sure i just gave the fans their biggest mystery of the year,” he joked, looking up at you with a grin.

you laughed softly, “you’re terrible at hiding things, you know.”

“maybe,” he said, sitting up slightly. “but i don’t think i want to hide you anymore.” your breath caught at his words, your cheeks flushing. “wait…you mean that?”

jungwon nodded, his expression sincere. “i’m not saying we need to make it public right now, but…i don’t want to pretend you’re not the best part of my day.” your heart melted at his words and you leaned in, kissing him softly. “you’re the best part of my day, too.”

he smiled against your lips, his hand cupping your cheek. “good. now, do we have any more of that chapstick? i think i’m actually addicted.”

you laughed, playfully smacking his arm. “you’re ridiculous.”

“ridiculously in love with youuu,” he countered, pulling you in for another kiss.

this time, there were no interruptions, no excuses, just the two of you, stealing kisses in the quiet comfort of your shared apartment.

⋆｡°✩ @miukidoll @liwinly @sugarikiz @hyukabean

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moonstruckme · 4 months ago

Note

i don’t know if ur taking request right now, but I love ur writing so much!! I was wondering if you could do something with poly!marauders x reader? Where reader gives blood for the first time and the marauders either work there (maybe emt!marauders?) or are just there with her and reader is almost finish when she says that she isn’t feeling well and she almost passes out?? 👀 and then they all panic and comfort her??

Thanks for requesting angel!

cw: mention of blood, needle, basically everything you'd expect at a blood donation clinic + nausea and fainting

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“First time?” Sirius asks as he ties a rubber tourniquet around your arm.

You blink, looking away from the rows of chairs laid out beside you and back to him. “Sorry?”

“Is this your first time donating?”

“Oh. Yeah. How did you know?”

Sirius—he told you to call him Sirius when you sat down, though at first you thought he meant the word serious—grins at you. He has dark hair tied in a messy yet startlingly chic chignon at the back of his head, his face seems chiseled from marble, and he’s one of the few people working the clinic today in paramedic uniforms instead of nurse’s scrubs. His attractiveness intimidates you, but his demeanor sets you at ease; it’s a real trial for your nervous system altogether.

“You look a bit nervy,” he says.

“I don’t know why I am,” you laugh, nervously. “I’m not squeamish or anything, I just…haven’t done this before.”

“That’s perfectly alright. A lot of first-timers are a bit antsy.” Sirius’ gloved finger begins prodding at the crook of your elbow, but his eyes are on you. “Get comfortable, darling. You’ll be grand.”

You aren’t sure how, exactly, to get comfortable, but you try to settle into the plasticky chair. Sirius’ cheek apples like he appreciates the effort. He looks down at your arm. It feels oddly vulnerable, like he’s staring at the softest, most delicate part of you. You try not to think about it.

“Alright, here we are.” He grabs his supplies from the table beside him, gaze flickering to you again. “You want to close your eyes, sweetness? I know you’ve said you’re not squeamish, but just in case.”

You close your eyes, thinking that you’re more likely to anxiously vomit from him calling you sweetness than anything else.

“Perfect. Okay, you might feel a little poke.”

It is little, so little you barely feel it at all, but that doesn’t keep your stomach from hopping up into your throat. You take in a breath through your nose.

“Doing alright?”

“Mhm. Sorry, yeah.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, gorgeous. Just let me know if you start to feel funny or anything.”

Funny might describe the state of your head right now. Sounds seem to fade in and out, your focus slipping. You feel sure Sirius can see the sweat beading on your upper lip.

But you stick it out, breathe steadily in and out your nose, and soon Sirius is telling you, You’re doing beautifully. Almost done.

Unfortunately, the next breath in comes with a rush of nausea. You feel like you should tell him.

“Um,” you mumble, eyes still closed.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not…feeling…”

The last couple of words get all tangled up in your tongue on their way out.

“Hey. Hey, babe, you okay? Can you open your eyes for me?”

You try. It’s like looking through fuzz.

“James!”

You want to pick your head up and see what’s turned Sirius’ voice so urgent all of a sudden, but you don’t have the strength.

“Here she comes. You’re alright, love.”

You make a small, humiliating sound as you rouse, made all the more humiliating by the way the voice shushes you gently. You remember where you are instantly, and wonder why you’re lying flat on your back on cool tile rather than sitting in the chair.

The shushing voice isn’t Sirius’, either.

“Can you open your eyes, please?” it asks.

You do, somewhat reluctantly, subjecting your corneas to cruel fluorescent lights and the stare of the man above you. It’s a rather kind stare, really. Hardly fair to say you’re being subjected to it.

“Hi there,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

“Hi.” You look down your body, to where another man is sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding both of your ankles on his shoulder. “I’m…okay. What…?”

“You’re at the blood donation clinic,” the first one tells you. “You fainted.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

The man at your feet laughs. “That’s alright, babe. All in a day’s work, you know.”

Not long ago, you remember feeling like all the blood was draining from your body. Now, you’re quite sure it’s returning to your face with vigor.

“How long was I out?”

“Not long,” the man by your head reassures you. “We only just managed to get you lying down when—”

“Oh, good!” Sirius startles you, coming up from behind your head without warning. “You gave me a fright, gorgeous. I did tell you to say if you started feeling funny, didn’t I? I thought we had a repartee. How are you feeling now? Is Remus taking good care of you?”

You blink. It appears your brain is still functioning at somewhat less than peak performance, and you struggle to keep up with all his questions. “I’m fine. I…I did try to say…”

“It’s not your fault, love,” Remus says, covering the top of your head almost protectively with his hand. He gives Sirius a dry look. “We’re supposed to ask beforehand if you have a history of fainting.”

“There’s no history to be had!” Sirius defends himself. “It’s her first time. Luckily, I have catlike reflexes in terms of sounding the alarm, and James was quick enough to catch her before she toppled out of the chair.”

“Oh, first time.” The one who must be James gives you a sympathetic look. His thumb rubs over your ankle bone as though to comfort you. “I hope this hasn’t spoiled it for you, lovely. I’m sure it’s scary.”

This doesn’t feel like the sort of thing you’re meant to reply to, but when both Remus and Sirius look at you with similar pitying expressions, you squeeze out a meek, “I’m okay.”

“We’ll try to make sure you leave without too awful of an impression.” Sirius grins at you, squatting by your side. “We’re just gonna take it nice and slow, babe. How about sitting up to have a drink?”

When you nod, Remus slips a hand behind your back, supporting you upright. James sets your legs down as he does.

“Alright, any preferences?” Sirius begins lining up plastic bottles on the floor beside you. “Our bar is stocked with apple, orange, and grape juice and water.”

“Ooh, he must really like you,” says James. “Normally he hoards the grape juice for himself.”

Sirius shoots his friend a nasty look, but he doesn’t deny it.

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kolsmikaelson · 1 year ago

Text

AND THEN THERE WERE THREE…

NOTES — just saw challengers today and absolutely needed to write smth for these two! only used a gif of art because theres none of the two of them and almost none for patrick </3, i’m a little rusty with smut so bare with me

WARNINGS — 18+ content mdni, slight challengers 2024 spoilers, fem!reader, kinda dom!art, pure smut/little plot, art/patrick interactions, talk of previous art/patrick sexual encounters, spit play, oral (m receiving), tit sucking, dirty talk, mentions of anal, little bit of aftercare, not proofread, lmk if i forgot anything!

REQUEST — Pls write a smut fic with reader and Art fucking in the hotel room (with Patrick watching) and reader asking if Patrick can join them and ofc Art can’t say no because he finds the idea of this super hot. Maybe reader makes Art and Patrick make out like in the movie 👀

WORD COUNT — 1.6k

join my taglist or follow @rodrickhefley to see when i post

None of you were too sure how exactly this had started. You, Art, and Patrick had stumbled back into their hotel room after leaving the beach, each of you finding your own place to sit after Patrick opened up a beer, took a swig, and passed the can to you. You’d taken a seat closer to Art, having naturally gravitated towards him more so than Patrick. And quickly, you and Art were making out, leaving Patrick to watch.

You blamed the beer. And the fact that you found both Art and Patrick incredibly hot. One minute you’re at a party, dedicated to your best friend, Tashi Duncan, and the next you’re sitting on the beach being invited back to the guys’ hotel room, and the next after that, Art is stripping you of your clothes while Patrick takes a seat leaned up against the wall opposite the foot of the bed.

“Can I-” He begins, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt, desperation clear in his eyes. At your nod, Art quickly yanks your shirt over your head and immediately pulls your body flush against his. He’s planting soft, wet kisses up and down your neck as his fingers work the back of your bra. His eyes widen the moment it drops to the ground.

Giving you a moment's glance he quickly sucks one nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking and biting. Feeling as though he’s neglected the other one, he pinches and tugs on the opposite nipple, smiling around the one in his mouth at the moans you let out.

“Yeah, baby? You like this? Me with your tits in my mouth and my best friend jerking off while watching us?”

For a moment, you’d forgotten about Patrick. Your eyes shoot open, landing on him instantly. The sight of him, slouched against the wall, his hand already wrapped around his cock, with his eyes fixated on both you and Art. He looked so hot, you weren’t sure how you’d forgotten that he was even there.

“Mhm, ‘s hot.” you admitted, turning Arts face back to you, tugging his bottom lip back into your mouth. The blond pushes you back onto the beds that were pushed together - Patrick’s idea if anyone were to ask - and begins kissing up your stomach only stopping long enough to kiss each of your nipples. He grabs your face, pushing his fingers into your cheeks, making you open your mouth, before letting a large glob of spit fall from his mouth into yours.

“Swallow.” He smiles when you do so without complaint, even going as far as to look as if you wanted him to do it again.

Patrick moans at that, louder than before. Sure he and Art had messed around before, when they were both single and bored and needed a good fuck, that wasn’t new, but hearing that commanding tone in the blonds voice sent a shiver down his spine.

“God, that was hot.” Patrick sighs, laughing when Art gives him the finger.

“Fuck off, Patrick.” Both of them know he doesn’t mean it, if he wasn’t wanted there, you or Art would’ve said something, but you didn’t. whether Art knew it or not, both you and he wanted him to stay, and keep watching.

At some point during that interaction, you weren’t sure when exactly, Art had shed his pants and underwear. He was dragging the tip up and down your slit, up and down, stopping every few seconds to slap your clit with it. When your eyes finally landed on his length, it made your jaw drop. He was big, bigger than you’d seen before, he was long and girthy with veins running along the bottom of it.

He slowly slides into you, admiring the look of pure bliss on your face. He’d never seen anyone look so angelic. The closest comparison he could make was how Patrick looked when he’d first given him a blow job. He wouldn’t call the look on Patrick's face angelic perse, but it was hot, really hot. The reminder of that, and the way you’ve begun clenching around him, spurs him into you. His hips snapping into yours, his heavy balls hitting your ass with each thrust. It was unlike anything either of you had felt before.

I want him to join.

You weren’t sure that the words had actually left your mouth until the blond on top of you stopped his thrusts, looking into your eyes for a moment.

“That what you want, baby?” He murmurs, kissing sloppily up and down your neck, shivers running through your entire body at his touch. His fingers falling to your clit, flicking at it. The pleasure was almost enough to make you forget that he’d even asked a question.

Almost.

“Please,” Even in your fucked out state, you couldn’t help but want more.

“Come on, Zweig. You heard her.” Patrick grins, hopping to his feet, although slightly hesitant. He wasn’t sure where to go, or what to do. But his nerves dissolved the moment Art turned around, and gave him that look, one that he knew meant that everything would be okay. It meant that he just needed to get over himself and have a good time, everything would work out. After that he’s on the move towards you, giving Art a harsh slap to the ass as he goes past him, laughing when Art swats back at him.

Patrick all but flies onto the bed, having kicked his underwear off the moment he stood up, and his shirt is long gone, a mix of yours, his, and Arts clothes are scattered around the hotel room, sure to have lost at least one thing. But none of you had it in you to care, too overwhelmed with pleasure. Your mouth opens before he’s even fully on the bed, but he gets the message, quickly positioning his tip in front of your mouth, thrusting a few times before losing control and fucking your throat.

The three of you move in tandem for minutes, or maybe it was hours, Art would thrust into you, rubbing your clit with his fingers, while Patrick would be pulling himself out of your mouth at the same time. It felt as though this was a regular occurrence, as though it were normal. And god did you hope it would become a normal thing. The three of you, together, making each other feel good.

Tapping Patricks thigh lightly, you hum happily when he pulls out of your mouth, giggling at how quickly he begins to check and make sure you’re okay.

“What? What’s wrong? Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” The words come out of his mouth at lightning speed and it’s difficult for you to understand, but Art had and his thrusts slowed to a stop, hands leaving your body, giving you a questioning look as if repeating everything his friend had just said.

“I’m fine baby,” And then you say something neither of them could quite hear.

“Gotta speak up for us, sweetheart. Can’t do what you want us to do otherwise.” That comes from Patrick, Art nodding along with him.

“Want you two to kiss.” The words fly out of your lips and you’re suddenly shy, pressing your face into Patricks thigh, nipping at it softly.

Both men smirk at you before making eye contact with each other, giving a subtle nod.

“Well c’mon man, you know how I like it.”

The combination of Arts words, his sudden thrusts and Patrick taking it upon himself to flick at your clit, push you over the edge. The power of your orgasm makes your legs shake, your mind empty of anything this isn’t you, Patrick, or Art.

They’re still kissing, it’s all teeth and tongue and spit. It’s messy, and it only stops long enough for Arts mouth to fall open, moans spilling out as he comes inside of you, hot spurts of his come flooding your insides, leaving a white ring around the base of his cock as he fucks you through both of your orgasms.

At this point, Patrick has taken a step back, and is watching again. He’s stroking himself with one hand, squeezing just right and out of nowhere, Art reaches out, cupping the dark haired man's balls, tugging and rubbing on them just the way Patrick likes. The added pleasure sends him crashing over the edge, he barely has the time to move and aim his cum to where you and Art are connected, spilling himself all over your cunt and Arts cock.

Art pulls out and the three of you fall into a pile of heavy breathing, sweat, spit, and cum on the beds pushed into the middle of the room. Once you all catch your breath, Patrick is the first to speak.

“Wow.” It was simple, but it made you all burst out laughing.

“Wow, indeed.” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his pec, turning to do the same to Art.

“That was fucking hot.” Arts words make you all giggle yet again.

“Okay,” Patrick leans you into Art and pushes himself off of the bed, “‘m gonna get you two cleaned up, be right back.” He reassures you, hearing you whine at losing his presence. He comes back with a warm washcloth in hand, and a small cup of water in his other. He hands the water to Art motioning for him to take a drink and then give you some as well, while he bends at the waist, resting his knees on the floor and taking the cloth to your core, cleaning you as gently as he could before moving onto Art. Tossing the cloth to the corner of the room he pulls both you and Art into his embrace, enjoying the quiet for a moment before you break the silence.

“Round two? Whoever makes me cum harder gets to fuck me here first.” You smile slyly, placing your hand on your ass, giggling when Patrick snatches you from Arts hold, muttering something about how he ‘got you first last time and that it’s his turn now.’

#◜ caitee’𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 ✎ ˚✧ ꜝ #challengers #art donaldson #patrick zweig #challengers x reader #challengers imagine #challengers smut #challengers x you #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson smut #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig imagine #patrick zweig smut #mike faist x reader #mike faist smut #josh o’connor x reader #josh o’connor smut #dividers by cafekitsune

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eleganzadellarosa · 1 year ago

Text

Melted

pairing: olderbrothersbestfriend!chan x needy fem! reader

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: MDNI (I'm sorry if this changes the way you see ice cream, pwp I guess, fast paced plot, unprotected sex (don’t 👀), big dick Chan (because what else would he be?), overstim, squirting, hair pulling, choking, creampie, Chan calls reader Baby, reader calls him Channie)

word count: 5.82K

A/N: Just because my mind has been on Chan A LOT lately. Also…this isn’t proofread 😬

Why would you like someone that ruffles your hair, tickles your sides and calls you “baby” as a nickname? Sounds childish right? Not to you when it comes to your huge crush on Chan. You know that’s just how he is with you and has been since you were younger, but you wish it meant something different to him.

Chan is best friends with your older brother, he’s basically been a part of your family for over 10 years. You’ve always liked Chan, but not in that way until your crush developed right before he moved. His family moved away for a while during his late teen years so you hadn’t seen him in quite some time. Then he suddenly came back and he was like a whole new person. His personality didn’t change, no, the way he looked did and you haven’t been able to keep your eyes off of him since.

He and your brother are 25 and you’re stuck being 23. It wasn’t a big enough gap to make anyone bat an eye, but you knew he always viewed you as his best friend’s little sister and you weren’t sure how to make that change. You watched as he pulled up in front of your house, picking up your brother like usual. They spent so much time together, you were almost past the point of jealousy and wanted to hate your brother for taking him away every time.

You stood in the open garage, watching him hop out the driver’s seat. He smiled and waved when he saw you and did a little jog onto the sidewalk and into the garage. Maybe things didn’t need to change and you needed to find someone else to crush on, but it was so hard when he would open his arms for you to hug him and would squeeze you tight until you couldn’t handle it anymore.

“Hey baby, missed you. How ya been?”

Baby. You would never get over that nickname. It gave you that warm fuzzy feeling but also gave you that second heartbeat.

“Hey Channie, you know same old same old. Where have you been all week?” You knew where he’d been but you’d do anything to have a longer conversation with him before your brother snatched him away.

“I went to go visit my family, they told me to tell you hi.” He smiled and you smiled back knowing how much his family loved you, which oddly enough made you like him more. “I got you somethin’, close your eyes.”

You obliged, closing your eyes waiting almost impatiently to see what he had for you. Not being able to see him in front of you but feeling his presence made a light blush fall on your cheeks. You felt his fingertips graze the skin on your hand and the sudden contact made you jump slightly. He carefully opened your hand and you felt the cold contrast of something against your palm.

“Open your eyes.”

You looked down to see a dainty anklet with small charms dangling from it. Your eyes lit up seeing each charm perfectly handpicked with things he knew you’d like. It was gorgeous and on closer inspection, it looked expensive. You didn’t care how much it cost, only worrying that he spent too much of his money on you, but loving that he got you a gift at all.

“Baby, do you like it?” He made dangerous eye contact waiting for you to reply. It didn’t help you gather your thoughts any quicker even though you had your answer already. He made your nervous system short circuit.

“Y-yeah Channie, I love it!” You smiled as much as you could to cover the way you swallowed thickly seeing him stand so close to you.

“Really? Oh gosh I’m glad, I thought I chose something you wouldn’t like.” He had to be lying. He could pick a leaf off a tree and you’d be jumping for joy. “Here lemme see, I’ll put it on for you.”

You gasped when he lifted you up to seat you on your dad’s workbench that sat at the back of the garage. The heat seeping in from outside was hot enough, but now you were sure you could break a thermometer. He kneeled down and wrapped the cold jewelry around your ankle. You were unconsciously holding your breath, scared of having any reaction because if you let go, you’d probably moan and you’d rather not make this awkward.

He looked up at you with your foot still in his hand, “It looks great baby, I like it.” God that comment had you slippery wet. He liked it on you? Now you’d never take it off. “Make sure you think of me every time you look at it.” He shot you a wink and your breath got caught in your throat preventing you from swallowing.

This conversation would be stored for fuel whenever you needed something to tip you over the edge at night. You almost said something equally seductive back, almost, when your brother came and took Chan away. You were used to it by now, never really having more than 10 minutes tops of alone time with him. It was frustrating, having to get most of your information from your brother who always reluctantly told you, asking “why do you wanna know anyways?”

You think Chan would tell you no hesitation if you actually had the chance to speak with him. But truth be told, you’d never be able to do such a thing with your brother around. He made it clear on multiple occasions that he didn’t approve of a relationship between you two if it ever came to be, but all three of you knew that would never be brought into existence.

You sat in the same spot on the tool bench, swinging your foot to see the charms sparkle in the small rays of sunshine. Chan said to think about him every time you looked at it, so you did. The thought of you on your knees in front of him, him slipping his thumb past your lips telling you to suck if you wanted to be rewarded. The ideas that ran freely were filthy and getting worse by the second. Your thighs rubbed together tightly as you felt yourself grow wetter with each passing thought.

The sun shined brightly through the small gaps between your blinds, easing you awake with its warmth. The weekends were the best because it was almost guaranteed that you’d get to have breakfast with Chan. It was an unspoken tradition and you marked it off in your mental calendar. You quickly washed your face before heading downstairs to the kitchen, only to see it completely empty besides the few duffle bags that sat beside the island.

“Where are you going?” You asked your brother who walked in at the perfect time before you could stump yourself with more unanswered questions.

“Didn’t mom tell you? I’m going to stay at a beach house with a few friends for the weekend.” He stuffed a few more things in his bag, talking with his back facing you.

“No…is Chan going too?” You asked carefully trying to make it seem like a normal question.

He rolled his eyes and leaned up against the marble island. “Next time you need to just start asking Chan these questions since you always wanna know everything about him. And no, he’s not coming.”

“Really?” A smile spread across your face but you quickly wiped it away when you saw your brother narrow his eyes.

“Don’t go bothering him while I’m away, he’s doesn’t wanna hang with you at all so just stay home!”

“You’re such an asshole, he never said that!”

“You don’t know what he said because you’re not his best friend! Just don’t bother him okay?” He sucked his teeth as he picked up his bags and walked out the door, kicking it closed with his foot.

He didn’t know what he was talking about. Chan wouldn’t say that, he would love to hang out with you. Right? You felt like a teenager crushing on a college boy that was far out of your league for multiple reasons but you swore you had a chance.

You sulkily walked upstairs back to your room and flopped on your bed. Being that your brother didn’t want you to bother Chan, it made you more curious as to what he could be doing right now. It sucks that you didn’t have his number or really any way to contact him. Well you did, you were just too scared to actually do it.

It was nothing but a 10 minute walk and 2 minute drive to get to his house but in the back of your mind, you were scared he actually wouldn’t want to see you. What would you say; what would be your reasoning for coming to see him?

“I have a crush on you and I want to be around you, please let me in?”

Like hell that would work. He’d probably slam the door in your face, call your brother and tell him how annoying and stupid his little-

There was a ring at your doorbell.

Your head snapped to your left, slightly shocked you had any visitors. It could easily be your neighbor since she always seemed to pop up randomly. “I got it!” You yelled out, jogging down the stairs. You looked out the peephole to see Chan standing there. Your heart started racing and you quickly looked over your appearance before opening the door.

“Channie?! What are you doing here?”

“Aww baby you aren’t happy to see me?” A cute little pout painted his face and you wanted to drag him in and kiss him all over.

“What? No, of course I am! My brother’s not here and I thought you knew…”

“Oh yeah I knew, I came to see you.”

He said it so nonchalantly as if it was normal to come see you. As if you both agreed to hang out today. Or as if you always hung out when your brother wasn’t around. He had to know what this was doing to you, there was no way he didn’t. You opened your mouth to say something but couldn’t find the strength to let the words come forward.

“I figured you’d be here all by yourself, so I thought I’d come pick you up.” He smiled brightly and there were those cute dimples. God you felt like you were gonna explode.

“I…umm…” you were stuttering and if he didn’t stop staring at you, you were going to be stuck like this.

He looked a bit sad and disappointed but waited to see what you would say. “It’s okay if you don’t want to Baby. I should’ve asked first, I’m so sorry.”

You quickly reached out to touch his arm and practically melted into a puddle, “No no Channie, I’m sorry, I just didn’t think you’d wanna hang out with me. I’d love to go to your house, especially since I’ve never seen this one.”

He smiled again, “Of course I would Baby, you’re my best friend! Now come on, hop in”

Oh how this was never something you thought would happen in a million years. You were Chan’s best friend? As much as you wanted this, there must have been some kind of mistake. Surely he didn’t actually think so.

He grabbed your hand and lead you to his jeep and opened your door for you. “Thank you Channie” barely left your lips before he reached inside and buckled your seatbelt, smiling at you before he closed your door. Your body was on fire; ignited from the soft and simple touches. You were down bad, there was no better way to put it. If he kept moving like this, you’d have to go home and deal with the problem between your legs.

His house was nice, nothing too big or small, just right for him. He had a great sense of decor and he kept his place sparkling clean. Scattered about on different pieces of furniture were photos of him, family and even younger pictures of the 3 of you.

“Baby, make yourself at home, you can sit anywhere you’d like.” He spoke to you from the little pass through window in the kitchen.

You nodded your head but decided to explore his living room some more. When you walked past the patio door, you noticed a reflection on the ground outside.

“Oh my gosh Channie, you have a pool?! Why didn’t my brother tell me?”

He walked over to you with a large red double popsicle and chuckled at the amused look on your face. “I’m gonna punch him when I see him, I told him to tell you because I know how much you love swimming. We can go out there if you want.”

He broke the popsicle in two and handed you a half. “I would love to…but I don’t have a bikini with me.”

“Just get in with what you have on.” He leaned against the side of his couch as he sucked on the cold treat.

You looked down at your outfit, a plain white tee and some daisy patterned shorts. “But I won’t have anything to change into. I can walk back home and get something.”

“Orrrrr, you can just wear some of my clothes until yours are dry.”

What was with him saying all this so nonchalantly? When have you ever worn his clothes? The smell must be absolutely amazing, he always smelled so good. If he was offering, you might as well just take it.

“Hmm” you bit your lip and smiled, “okay, but I don’t wanna get in by myself.”

He smiled as he finished off his half of the popsicle and chewed on the stick. He jolted off the side of the couch and pulled his shirt off. You almost choked on the leftover ice you had in your mouth. What the fuck was he thinking?

“Come on Baby, come swim with me.”

He opened the door and ran and jumped in without hesitation. After little to no consideration, you followed behind him, diving right in. The water was a perfect way to cool off in the hot summer sun. He swam over to you, hair drenched and sticking to his forehead. The droplets of water shined against his toned, muscular body. You wanted to lick him dry, no matter how long it took.

His right hand slid over your waist and around to your back, “you look so cute, I could kiss you right now.”

Cute? Kiss? Cute and kiss in the same sentence? Maybe you needed to pinch yourself to wake up from this completely unrealistic dream.

“M-me? I’m just plain and boring.” You mentally pat yourself on the back for not stuttering too much with how close he was and what he just said.

“You’ve never been either baby, no way that’s what you actually think.” His eyebrows raised in shock.

“Well yeah…there’s so many prettier girls than me. I’m just me, but they’re-“

It happened so fast that your mind didn’t process it. He bent down to press his lips to yours and hold you a bit tighter. Your arms were around his neck and you reciprocated the kiss faster than the fear set in. His tongue swiped over your lip and you happily allowed him to explore your mouth.

Somehow being drenched in the pool made it feel more sensual, nothing left to the imagination, bodies practically touching through the thin fabrics. You could feel how hard he was, pressing it right up against your thigh. You bravely touched him through his shorts, earning a small moan from him.

He ran a hand up the back of your thigh and roughly grabbed your ass. It wasn’t until you felt something press into your back that you realized he moved the both of you closer to the edge of the pool. He trailed the kisses over your jaw and to your neck. You were breathing heavily, making no effort to stop the sounds coming from you.

“I wonder how good you’d sound if I fucked you.”

“Channie please, oh fuck.”

Desperate was too innocent of a word to describe how badly you wanted him. You’d do whatever it took to make your dreams come true.

“Would you like that baby? Let me fuck you and make you feel good?”

At this point you were sure you stopped breathing. He looked so good with his wet hair, heavy lids, toned body pressed right against yours. Of course you’d like that.

“Yes Channie, I want it, I want you.”

He slipped your shirt over your head and left open mouthed kisses down your neck and across your chest. Just as he moved to get your nipple in his mouth, a loud ring came from inside the house; it was his phone.

“You should go get that Channie.”

He looked at you, lips parted and breathing heavily. “Fuck, okay I’ll be right back.”

He hopped out the pool and went inside while you tried to put all the pieces together. So Chan liked you? Or he simply just wanted a fuck buddy? Or maybe he just wanted to fuck you because he knows how much you like him and knew you’d be easy? The insecurity began to weigh down on you and now you just wanted to go home.

When he returned, he squatted down next to you, who was now slightly turned away from him with your arms wrapped around yourself in order to seek comfort.

“That was your brother, he said he’s coming home early because someone got food poisoning. So…he asked me to pick him up.” He reached out and touched your shoulder. “Baby, you okay?”

“Yeah Channie, you can just take me home.” You made sure to not let him see the tears brimming your eyes.

“You sure you’re-“

“Yes, I’d like to go home please.”

He watched you for a few seconds longer, definitely able to notice the shift in your mood, he just didn’t know what caused it. “Okay, let me at least get you a change of clothes.”

The ride back home was short and you got out before he could to open your door for you. He shouted something about seeing you later before driving off as you closed your front door behind you. You still didn’t have his number, so him hitting you up later wouldn’t be a thing, unless he was bold enough to ask your brother but you both knew that would open a can of worms you weren’t ready to try and close.

Now you were a bit nervous that he would tell your brother what happened because he wanted to know why you looked so sad. You’d just avoid him as much as you could and hopefully he would forget anything ever happened.

“As much as I don’t want you to, I need you to come with me and Chan so you can help me choose a gift for my girlfriend.” Your brother came into your room, not bothering to knock since your door was already opened slightly.

“I didn’t say you could come in!”

“Oh my god, yes or no?”

“You didn’t ask me anything dumbass and why don’t you already know what your girlfriend likes?”

“I do know but I want to know what’s the best out of the options I have and you’re a girl.”

“Umm…I guess?”

You were conflicted. You wanted to see Chan, you missed him even though it had only been two days since your encounter in the pool. But you also didn’t want to see him right now because you didn’t want to explain anything to him, yet if you said that your brother would for sure know something happened between you two.

“Okay well be ready in like 10 minutes, set a timer or something.”

Chan and your brother greeted each other like always and when he looked over at you, he looked as if he wanted to come hug you. “Hey baby, you coming with us today?”

Your brother rolled his eyes when you let a smile creep past your lips. You were weak for Chan, he knew exactly what to say to make you melt. Maybe you were thinking about it wrong, maybe he really did like you and he actually wanted to be with you. But having it happen so suddenly made you think perhaps you let your guard down too quickly.

You felt like such a third wheel around the two boys, laughing at their inside jokes and not worrying about you following behind them. Well Chan did, he would look back to make sure you were still there and smile at you when you made eye contact. It felt like hours even though but had only been 30 minutes of walking around the mall looking for the perfect gift.

“Girls like jewelry, so get her something she can always wear.” Your brother’s gaze followed yours down to your anklet. Before he could ask you where you got that, Chan spoke up.

“Yeah I told you that the other day man, if you really love her you should get her something that she can keep for a long time but also that you put effort into choosing.” He looked over at you when he said it, hoping you caught on to what he said.

You tried your hardest not to blush, your brother standing way too close for you to even let out a small squeal.

“Yeah that’s what I wanna get her but I’m not sure she’ll wear it, I never see her wearing jewelry.”

“Trust me bro, she’ll love it.” He placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and nodded his head.

“I’m gonna go get some ice cream and then head back to the car you guys.” You said waving your hand as you walked away. Your brother nodded as he answered his phone.

“Is it okay if I come with you baby?” Chan ran to catch up with you before you got too far.

“Sure Channie, I’ll pay for you.”

“You’re so funny Baby, I’m paying for the both of us.” As you approached the stand, he turned around grimacing. “Aww baby they’re all out of rocky road.”

After all these years, he still remembers your favorite ice cream flavor. “It’s okay Channie, just get me whatever you get.”

He smiled softly and nodded and ordered two strawberry cheesecake cones. You walked back with him to his car to enjoy yet another frozen treat in his presence. Of course, he opened your door and let you hop in before he did the same.

“Damn it’s already melting…”

“I prefer ice cream when it melts a little. Like when it drips down my fingers. It just tastes better that way…well to me anyway.” You realized you were babbling, so you looked up at him but he was already looking at you.

“You wanna lick mine off my fingers?”

The question alone could have made you cum, but the way he looked at you; eyes slightly hooded, lips parted, that had you throbbing. You couldn’t even answer him. Actually your mind was blank so you didn’t have an answer or any response to what he just said. He saw it on your face though. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you. He’s wanted you for a long time and as many hints as he tried throwing your way, you never seemed to catch them.

It became too much for him, your brother always getting in his way of spending alone time with you. He didn’t care what your brother thought about it though. He wanted you and he wanted you bad. So when he eased his hand toward your mouth and you happily let him push a finger past your lips, he knew he didn’t have to try to make you understand anymore; he made that clear when you were in the pool the other day.

“Sorry it’s not your favorite flavor.” He said, removing his finger to replace it with a new one.

“It is now.” Your words were partially cut off by the intrusion of his fingers. You were soaked and your head felt fuzzy, you felt like you were going to die.

You never broke eye contact and he watched you intently. “You can’t look at me like that if you don’t want me to ruin you.”

“Maybe I want you to.” You licked and sucked on his fingers as seductively as you could muster.

He licked his ice cream then shifted more toward you so he could kiss you. The contrast of the cold dessert and the heat from his tongue made you whimper. He slowly let your warmth melt the ice cream and drip down onto your neck and chest. He happily chased the drops with his tongue making sure none of it went to waste.

“Oh god Channie, mmm~”

He caught sight of your brother making his way over to the car so he quickly halted his actions and returned to his seat. “He’s coming, act normal. Deep breaths.”

Well that was surely easier said than done. He just licked the majority of his ice cream off of you, leaving you slightly sticky in multiple places. This was torture, getting so close to what you want only to be cockblocked by your brother once again.

“Yo Chan, is it cool if I stay at your place tonight? My girlfriend might stop by too.”

“Yeah sure, I don’t mind.”

“Okay cool, we can just drop Y/N off.”

You quickly turned, an exaggerated pout on your face, ready to fight your case. “NO FAIR!”

“It’s fine if she stays, I don’t mind.” Chan looked at your brother through the rear view mirror.

“What?! No way, she’s literally just going to bother us the entire time!”

“Fuck you, no I won’t! You always get to hang with Chan by yourself, I can be around him too!”

“Hey! It’s alright, you can sleep in my bed and I can sleep on the couch. I promise it’s fine.”

Your brother rolled his eyes and you stuck your tongue out at him. Maybe you were childish, but you weren’t going to let your day end without at least having another make out session.

You thanked God your brother’s girlfriend came quite late and that she took all his attention off of you and Chan. You all enjoyed some snacks and had movie night. It was nearing almost 2am by the time the movie was over, so your brother took her to the guest room where he was staying for the night.

You stayed up with Chan to help him tidy up even though he insisted he didn’t want you to.

“Is it okay for me to wear another one of your shirts Channie? I didn’t pack anything.”

He looked up from the dishes he just finished, “you don’t have to ask Baby, of course you can.” He gave you a big dimpled smile but then it dropped. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Yeah of course, what’s up?”

“Why were you so sad the other day? You know…in the pool.”

You knew he would ask you eventually so you might as well just tell him now and get it over with. “I don’t know…I just…wasn’t sure how to feel and was hoping you weren’t only doing it to take advantage of me.”

He walked up to you and kissed your forehead. “Oh Baby, I would never do that to you. I love you and I can’t ever say it or do anything about it because your brother’s always around. I’m sorry if I came off so strong but don’t ever think I’d do anything to take advantage of you. I love you, yeah?”

He rubbed his thumb over your hand and tilted his head waiting for you to nod your head. It took a heavy weight off your shoulders to hear him express his true feelings and being that he said it so easily helped you understand how genuine he was being.

“My room is all yours Baby, it’s the last door at the end of the hall. You can wear whatever you want and there’s towels in the closet in the bathroom.”

“Thank you for letting me stay Channie.” You stood on your tip toes and kissed him on the cheek and quickly ran away, leaving him in the kitchen with red ears.

You felt refreshed after your shower and even more comfortable as you slipped into one of his shirts. Since you didn’t bring a change of clothes, his shirt was the only thing covering you and barely so. You hopped into his king sized bed and playfully rolled around, enjoying the big size.

You looked over at the digital clock on the nightstand, it had already been more than an hour since everyone went to bed. You weren’t sleepy though, so you pulled out your phone and scrolled aimlessly on your socials. A soft knock on the door turned your attention towards it.

“Come in.”

Chan walked through the door, smiling when he saw you so comfy in his bed. “I couldn’t sleep but I also didn’t try…and, I can’t let you leave before I kiss you again.”

“Well good because I was thinking the same thing.”

He fully shut the door and locked it before he removed his shirt and hopped in the bed with you, lips immediately catching yours. His hands came up to grope your breasts roughly, sucking and biting your bottom lip as he did so. He slid a hand under your shirt, breaking the kiss when he felt your bare skin.

“God Baby, you’re driving me crazy. Seeing you in nothing but my shirt is making me sooo hard.” You took his hand in yours and moved it over your pussy. “Fuck…so wet already.”

He moved down closer to the edge of the bed and kissed his way down from your stomach. He gave you butterflies in the best way possible. His lips danced across the skin on your inner thighs sending tingles up your spine.

“Channie…” you say breathlessly and he looks up at you as his mouth attaches to your sensitive bud.

With his head between your legs, messily eating your pussy, your eyes were squeezed shut. It took every bone in your body to not moan, knowing that if you did, you would be loud. He sensed it, so he stopped eating you out and crawled on top of you.

He used two fingers to slip into you while his thumb pressed down harshly on your clit. “Don’t hide them from me, I wanna hear them.”

“B-but my brother is here.”

“And I want to hear how good I make you feel. Don’t hold back Baby, lemme hear your pretty moans.” His fingers sped up their pace, not giving you any other option. You moaned as your back arched slightly. “That’s it Baby, good girl.”

It turned him on watching how his actions made you react but he needed more; needed to feel the way your pussy wrapped around him like it didn’t want to let him go. You reached out to pull on his shorts and finally free his achingly hard dick from its confines. He was BIG but what did you really expect, it was just really really intimidating. None of that mattered though, you just wanted him in you without any interruptions.

He hissed when he used your arousal to mix with his and coat his length. He gave it a few pumps before he eased the head past your entrance. “I’ll go slow okay baby?”

“Okay Channie just keep going, please don’t stop.”

He caught his lip between his teeth, feeling the lust course through his veins hearing you beg and feeling the tightness of your walls. He watched your face contort in pleasure.

He was barely half way in, stretching you open with ease. “T-too big Channie…” You eyes were rolling back and you were already slurring your words.

“You can take it, look you’re doing so well for me Baby” he touched his forehead to yours and grabbed you by the jaw and kissed you again, “you feel so good Baby, so so fucking good, such a good girl for me.”

When he bottomed out he leaned over you to catch his breath so he wouldn’t cum too quickly. Your head was spinning. His body pressed into yours and the way he spoke to you already had your toes curling. He pulled out to the tip, your pussy making a squelching noise, and he quickly thrust himself back in. Your back arched off the bed and you almost screamed.

As much as you wanted to keep your sounds at bay, you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep the volume down to a minimum. He snapped his hips forward with desperation, grunts and moans falling from the both of you. His hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing enough to make your head get fuzzy and awaken every nerve in your body. He pounded into you with no remorse, making this worth the long wait.

He suddenly pulled out, causing you to whine in response, and sat against the headboard. “Come ride me, wanna feel you in this position.”

You crawled over to him then hovered over his still hard, leaking dick. You sank down on him, taking small breaks so you wouldn’t faint from the pleasure. He bucked his hips up, making you drop down fully. He held you under your butt, spreading your pussy open to help you bounce on his dick easily.

The more you hopped up and down on him, the more you felt the sticky substances mix and connect the two of you. Your legs gave out when he started to thrust up into you every time you dropped down. He repositioned you so that you were on your knees, leaning forward into him. He grabbed a handful of your hair, your back arching more, as he hugged you and fucked you violently. The new angle made him abuse your sweet spot.

“Letting me fuck you with your brother just down the hall, I didn’t know you were such a slut Baby.”

“Mmm ah! Only for you Channie!”

He held you tighter when he felt your pussy clench around him. This is exactly what he wanted, what he dreamed of. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer himself, so he quickly flipped you onto your back again. One hand on the back of one of your knees and the other rubbing harsh circles on your clit.

“Oh fuck…oh fuck Channie I’m gonna cum!”

“You gonna cum? Yeah? Cum with me, make a mess all over my dick.”

He thrust deeper into you and bent down to suck on one of your nipples. A few more loud moans and circles on your clit and your pussy fluttered as you reached your orgasm. He didn’t stop and kept up his quick pace until you squirted all over him and the sheets below.

“Fuuuuuck” his hips stuttered and he pushed himself deep as he painted your walls white. He pulled out quickly, the rest of his cum spilling into his hands and seeping through his fingers.

When you looked down, you couldn’t help but grab his hands to put his fingers in your mouth. Funny enough, the cum looks just like the way you love your ice cream.

“Channie, I think you’re my favorite flavor.”

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