something something caleb who dates solely to try and push down his feelings for you
18+ (smut)
cw & tags: afab fem!reader, heavy fauxcest / pseudocest, cheating, reader and caleb both are the problem in this, possibly a bit ooc, gaslighting, manipulation, i think that covers it ?, word count: 2.9k
Between the pages of an old book in Caleb’s room, there lies a quote: gravitation cannot be held responsible for people falling in love. The words made themselves a home in the furthest corner of his brain until they became more than just an excerpt.
Love is a choice, so here he silently sits in a bed that is not his while his girlfriend screams at him. As he glances over at the small clock on the nightstand, he realizes the argument has lasted hours by now.
“I just– I don’t get it, Caleb; something’s wrong with her–”
“Don’t talk about her like that.”
She stares at him with a pinched expression. “That’s the first time you’ve spoken during this entire conversation, and it’s to defend her. Are you fucking kidding me?”
He’s exhausted; the one-sided discussion has run in circles to the point of collapsing in on itself. “What do you want from me?” he sighs, hand dragging down his face as he glances back at the red, flashing numbers.
“I want you to choose me,” she whispers.
He shows up at your door an hour later, heartbroken and with a bottle of cheap liquor. “I broke up with her,” he mumbles, sitting next to you on the floor as he pours you both a shot.
You’re thankful that the glass pressed to your lips hides your smile, letting out a small cough once the sour liquid slides down your throat.
“I’m sorry, gege,” you say, both of you knowing the words are a lie.
You hated her for taking Caleb away; you tried not to be bitter about it, but it grew harder to hide your disapproval each time she stared at you with eyes that were just a shade off from your own.
He shrugs half-heartedly as he pulls you into his lap, letting his head fall onto your shoulder. “You’re my sister; it wasn’t a decision.”
He wakes up half-dressed in your bed, your leg thrown over his hip as you sleep next to him. He blames the blurred lines and memories on the alcohol as he tells himself his half-hard cock has nothing to do with the feeling of your body on his.
The bright screen of his phone is what wakes you up, your breath on his ear as you watch him swipe his way left and right– mostly left, you note– through a plethora of women.
“Didn’t take you for the rebound type,” you mumble.
He waits a little longer this time before deciding to introduce you to his newest girlfriend. The faint ghost of your drunken lips on his flushed skin makes him painfully aware of how bad he needs this relationship to work.
“It was nice meeting you.” She smiles brightly, pressing a kiss to Caleb’s cheek as she walks out of his apartment.
You don’t say anything, content to watch the movie playing on the television as he stares at you. “What do you think?” he comments.
“Why does it matter what I think?” you ask, knees tucked under your chin as you stare at the screen.
The correct answer is that it shouldn’t; your opinion shouldn’t have any effect on his relationship. You shouldn’t have any effect on his relationship. “You’re my sister; of course it matters,” he settles on.
You don't say it out loud– you don't need to– but the question rings in his ears as you wrap your arms around him.
“I'd never ask you to choose, Caleb,” you whisper, lips too close to his pulse point as you nuzzle your face against his neck.
“You don't have to, meimei,” he sighs as he pulls out his phone, your thumb brushing against his as you grab it out of his hands.
One of his fingers shakily presses send on the break-up text you drafted; his other hand grips your hip to stop you from squirming against his thigh.
He doesn't tell you he's in a relationship this time– he doesn't have to. He can hide her from you, but he can't hide the way he sighs every time his phone buzzes or the disinterested phone calls in your hallway.
He knows you’re at the cafe before he even sees you, his body pulled towards the sound of your laughter echoing from the small booth in the corner. “I didn’t know the two of you knew each other,” he comments, placing a hesitant kiss on your forehead as he slides into the seat next to you.
“She's a friend of a friend. I guess Granny was right; it really is a small world.”
It should be a good thing that the two of you get along so well– logically, he knows that much. He drops her off at your apartment for another movie night he’s not invited to, wondering if this is what it felt like for you to watch someone steal him away.
After three days of radio silence from both of you, he receives the phone call he’s been waiting on– it’s just from the wrong person. She’s sobbing into the speaker as she tries to get the words out.
“I can’t– I won’t tell you who it was, but I cheated on you. It wasn’t an accident; it was an active choice. I’m sorry, Caleb; you deserve better,” she sniffles.
He tells himself it’s anger settling in his veins as he knocks on your door that night. The two of you sit in a tense silence until you finally speak up. “She tasted like you.”
You wake up to an empty apartment the next morning with finger-shaped bruises on your wrists. An ache settles in your lower half as you slowly sit up, your phone lighting up with another text from your brother’s ex-girlfriend.
Now that their relationship is over, you don’t hesitate to block her number.
Caleb likes his current girlfriend well enough; she’s kind, very polite– if not a touch boring. He doesn’t love her, though– and no matter how many times he half-heartedly repeats the words back to her, he knows now that he never will.
He isn’t particularly attracted to her, but she looks similar enough to you that he can close his eyes and pretend he is– yet she’s different enough that no one can call him out for it.
Once is a chance, twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern- something Josephine once said to you both as kids.
As he watches you stare at the marks littering his collarbones, he wonders if that makes the fourth time a choice.
“Seriously, gege?” you scoff, unable to look away from the faint bruise on his chest peeking out from under the collar of his shirt.
Shame settles in his stomach, avoiding your piercing gaze as he pulls the fabric up. “Sorry, Pips,” he mumbles.
You roll your eyes at him, sipping at your cup as the sound of the movie fades into the background. “When were you gonna introduce us?”
Never, he thinks to himself. If it were his choice, these parts of his life would never cross– unfortunately, though, that’s not for him to decide.
“Bring her to dinner tonight.” The words sound eerily like a presentiment– a ringing in his ears warning him of future disaster.
He always swore he would say no to you when you asked, but all it takes is your soft hand on his knee for him to crumble.
“Okay, okay. You’ll love her.”
The air in the booth is agonizingly thick– it has been since he chose to sit down next to you. She’s glaring at you from across the table, his arm wrapped tight around your shoulder.
“You’re in school, right?” You ask, taking a sip of your drink before offering it to him to try. He doesn’t even bother to grab the glass, his lips brushing against your fingers as he sips from your straw.
Before she can even lean across the table, your thumb darts out, brushing off a drop of liquid from the corner of his mouth. “Thanks, honey,” he coos, her hands balling into fists at the nickname.
“Yeah. I’m in school,” she mumbles, fork picking at her food as the two of you share a plate.
You smile widely, either not noticing or just not caring about her standoffish behavior. “That’s so fun! What exactly are you studying?”
Metal clings as she drops her fork, a deep sigh leaving her lips. “Caleb, I don’t feel good,” she lies, watching your brows pinch in worry.
“Okay,” he shrugs, taking a bite out of the half-eaten sandwich you’d decided you didn’t like.
She tries again, unable to hide the bite in her words this time. “Caleb, I don’t feel good, and my stuff is still at your place. Can we please just go already?”
He looks over at you, seemingly waiting for your approval. You glance at her quickly before diverting your attention back to him. “Gege, don’t worry, I’ll be fine on my own. Just take care of your girlfriend, okay?”
Right as he’s about to stand up, your fingers dig into his shirt, dragging him down enough so you can place a chaste kiss on his cheek. He leans in close to you, whispering something she can’t hear before placing several bills onto the table.
“Caleb, what the fuck was that?” she shouts as soon as the restaurant fades in the rear-view mirror.
He sighs as if he has any right to be frustrated right now. “I don't know what you mean.”
Her fingers grip the steering wheel so tightly she can feel her bones start to ache. “You know exactly what I mean. That was fucking weird. You called her by the same fucking pet name! The two of you are weird– I mean, are you always that touchy with each other?”
“Don't be jealous; she's my baby sister. I’m all she has–”
It’s a low blow; she knows that much, but she can’t stop herself. “Except she’s not even really your sister, is she, Caleb? The two of you were just adopted by the same woman, so why the fuck are you using that as an excuse?”
It’s silent in the car as she pulls into the driveway, guilt settling in her stomach each second that passes without another shout.
“You’re right– no more excuses,” he mumbles, refusing to look at her.
As soon as she parks the car, she leans over, mouth feverishly pressing against his. She knows she fucked up when he doesn’t move or melt, shutting his eyes until she pulls away.
“Let me make it up to you, baby?”
Her lips mumble soft apologies the entire time they walk through his hallway, eventually stumbling into his bed. His eyes are squeezed shut, arms stiffly by his side, as her hands trail down his body.
“Who's fucking you?” she moans, hips slamming down as she rides him.
He swallows the name that's settled on his tongue. “Honey, please,” he moans loud enough to drown out the sound of her.
The second she hears the term of affection, she wishes he had just stayed quiet.
Pushing harder, her fingers pinch at his nipples as she purposefully clenches around his cock. “Caleb, I asked you a question. Who's fucking you? Whose pussy are you about to cum in?”
In that moment, something in her tone changes, her voice pitched just right to indulge his deepest fantasy.
She gasps as he spills inside her with a loud moan– more passion than she’s ever heard from him before. Paying no mind to the way his cum drips down her skin, she quickly scrambles off of him.
“Honey, wait–” Ignoring his stuttered excuses, she quickly gets dressed; the sound of the door slamming behind her echoes throughout the apartment.
It's late when your phone rings, Caleb's old shirt draped over your body as you quickly hit accept. You don’t expect to hear his girlfriend speaking to you, at least, not so soon.
She's shaken up; you can tell by the way her breath trembles over the speaker as she explains she’d copied your number from his contacts.
“What's wrong?” you sigh, fingers playing with the hem of the fabric.
“It’s Caleb; we were–” She stumbles over the words, voice frantic as she tries to plead with you. “We were having sex, and he moaned out your name. I know he's your–”
The word brother lingers between the two of you despite going unspoken. “I know he's taken care of you, but the way he acts around you isn't normal and I just. I thought someone should tell you.”
“Thanks for the warning, really, but I promise you I’m fine– Caleb’s not someone I have to worry about.”
“You don’t understand, I think he’s in–”
You scoff, and she can hear the sound of your mattress squeaking as you move. “Look, Caleb's last girlfriend… she has a really similar name to mine, and well, I didn't want to make you feel insecure, but you look so much like her. I think that’s the whole reason he kept us apart for so long– he didn’t want me to slip up. He'll never admit it, but he's still hung up on her, you know?”
She wants to argue that she knows what she heard and what she saw, but you’re quickly filling the silence.
“I appreciate and admire the way you tried to protect me, really, but I'd feel so guilty if I didn't tell you the truth,” you breathe out.
You’re so sincere; it's nearly impossible not to believe what you're saying.
“Oh my god, I'm– I'm so sorry, I can't believe I accused him of–” she chokes on her words.
The fact that you’re comforting her only worsens the guilt in her stomach. “I’m sure he’ll forgive you one day, but I think maybe it's for the best that you guys don't see each other for a while– that kind of thinking isn’t healthy, you know?”
She sobs even harder, only able to mutter a small agreement, mentally berating herself for ruining a good thing– for being jealous of her boyfriend’s sister.
You glance down at Caleb as you hang up, gently tossing the phone onto the nearby nightstand. “Seriously, another one? Why do you even bother trying when it always ends the same?”
He ruts up into you, tears falling from his eyes as you bounce on his cock. “Sorry, 'm sorry,” he whimpers, face flushed as he stares at the spot where your bodies meet.
“I know you're doing it on purpose now, gege. You like it when I touch you like this, comforting you when you show up teary-eyed at my door. So hard as you watch me clean your mess each time you fuck up like this.”
“Please, ” he begs, one of his hands sneaking underneath his shirt, squeezing at your tit.
You know exactly what he needs right now, leaning down to capture his mouth in a messy kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips, licking at the roof of your mouth as he tries to taste as much of you as possible.
A whine fills the air as you pull away, your thumb wiping up the spit that drips down his face, quickly licking it off your skin.
You can tell he’s close, his stomach tense as your hand trails along it. “Who's fucking you?”
“You, meimei,” he groans. His body shivers, hips jerking up as he spills his thick cum inside you.
Ignoring his whimpering, you continue to slam your hips up and down on his sensitive cock, chasing your own high. His hand slips between your thighs, pinching and pulling at your swollen clit– that’s all it takes for you to stumble over the edge.
You gasp, head thrown back as you cum all over his length. A mixture of your fluids drips out of your hole and down your thighs as you pull away.
His arms wrap around you as soon as you crawl into bed next to him, lips pecking along the back of your neck and shoulders. “I’m sorry, honey, really.” his voice wavers as you refuse to turn towards him.
“I just… I don’t get it, Caleb– why can’t you just choose me?”
He almost wishes you’d be angry; instead, you just sound broken. “It won’t happen again,” you scoff at his words, but let him intertwine your fingers. “I’m serious this time– it’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to them.”
You’re quiet for a moment before you turn around and look him in the eyes. “You mean it?”
“I swear, meimei.”
You let out a hum, pressing a kiss to his chest as your eyes flutter.
You’re surprised to find breakfast ready when you walk into the kitchen the next morning. Placing yourself in his lap, you smile softly as your thumb presses harshly against the bruises you left on his neck– pride filling your chest as his hips shift subtly underneath you.
“Do you think she noticed? Last night?” he mumbles, hands slowly snaking up your body.
You shrug, lips parted as he places a forkful of food between your lips. “Even if she did, she'll never believe herself again, not when it comes to this– they never do.”
Nodding, he brings a glass of water up to your mouth, watching as it spills down your cheek as you swallow.
He’s almost disappointed that you wipe it away before he can. “Why does it matter what she thinks?” The words are meant to be casual, but he knows what you need to hear.
“It doesn’t– not to me. I meant what I said last night, Mei Mei. I’m done pretending– no more excuses.”
Forcemasc | reader is a trans man | no specific mention of anatomy | reader is newly on T | Cliffhanger ending because I didn’t feel like writing the rest
CW: incest/pseudocest | light manipulation | he kind of corners you | cnc in that it’s forcemasc | non explicit nsfw
NSFW | WC: 534 |
You gasped as you dropped the barbell, cringing at the clattering sound it made. Caleb leaned in to pull you back, and wiped your forehead with a towel once he had steadied you.
“Talk to me, man. What’s going on?”
You shook your head.
“I just… everything’s so warm. And I’m just feeling a bit funny. That’s all.”
Caleb looked at you with concern. He didn’t speak. He knew you had more that you were unsure aboutactually saying.
“What if… what if this wasn’t supposed to happen? What if I’m fucking myself up for no reason?” Your voice cracked, and you cringed.
“Hey. It’s okay.” Caleb kept his voice low and soft in your ear, brushing your bangs back. “You’re going through puberty again. You’re going to not feel yourself sometimes. It doesn’t mean you’re making a mistake.”
He squeezed your shoulders, and then moved to take a couple plates off the barbell.
“Remember how you felt when you trimmed your stubble the first time?”
You nodded, heart fluttering.
“This uncertainty is temporary. But that? That’s forever. You get to feel that every day for as long as you want.”
You took a deep breath.
“Thanks. I think maybe I should be done today.”
“Not feeling well?” Caleb was worried. This wasn’t like you.
You shook your head as you removed your belt and weightlifting gloves. You loved the gloves, how powerful they made you feel, but you loved even more that you didn’t rely on them to feel strong as much as you used to.
“Just… sensitive.”
You had already said too much. You immediately turned toward the exit. Caleb jogged up next to you.
“Sensitive emotionally? Or physically?”
You bit your lip.
“Gotcha. Have you been jerking off lately?”
You squeezed your eyes shut, face redder by the second.
“Let’s just go…”
When you got home you ran to your room to hide, but before you could close the door Caleb stopped it with his hand, gripping the side of it firmly. He was still stronger than you.
He pushed through, and locked the door behind him. You shrunk back, avoiding eye contact.
“Hey, about what I asked.”
“It’s fine,” you muttered. “Just forget it.”
“No.” Caleb’s voice was firm. Your heart pounded. “It’s not fine. Your body is going through so much. You need to take care of it. Are you masturbating regularly?”
You shook your head.
“Well no wonder you don’t feel good.”
“I…” Your face burned. “I never was good at it. So, I figure it doesn’t matter.”
“You weren’t good at it because you were trying to touch yourself like a girl.”
You felt your heartbeat in your ears. What was happening? Maybe this was normal. Maybe this was how brothers talked. But still, why did it make your stomach clench?
Caleb grabbed you by the shoulders, still towering over you.
“You need to jerk off like a man.”
You managed to look into his eyes. They weren’t frightening or angry like you thought they’d be. They were soft. He was worried about you. He wanted to help.
He put his hand on your side as he leaned in, voice hushed.
“Let me teach you.”
———
This was my first time writing a masc/man reader so I hope yall like it! I’d love to do more like this in the future. I have a lot of things that makes me insecure about writing about a male reader, especially a trans one, but I’m happy with this one I think.
pussy inspections are just so sexy. “spread your legs wide” as a command, pulling your thighs even further apart, the gentlest of touches as they watch your cunt start to tense and drip, the slow ache as the inspection gets more thorough
caleb loves your tummy. it's so soft and warm, his hands always slipping underneath your shirt to touch you. he especially loves if you gain a little weight because that means he's taking care of you right. that you're eating and healthy.
but he also loves how much you squirm when he presses down on your stomach, how you clench and gush around his cock, how it feels so impossibly deep. telling you that he's gonna put a baby in your tummy while he folds you in half.
"guy who asks you if youre on birth control while he’s inside of you and cums real hard when you say no with a lil fear in your voice"
XAVIER, CALEB i'm deceased 🧎♀️➡️
✩꒱ no control ft. caleb xia .ᐟ
🏁 ꒰ ✩ smut ⋆ mdni ⋆ caleb xia & fem!reader. dubcon, implied pseudocest, baby trapping, dirty talk, creampies yay! this has been in my drafts for like a month lol original post by @xaviez ( lemme know if this is okay to post !!! )
i agreeeee super heavily on caleb in particular …
he already had to go to extreme lengths to convince you to let him fuck you without a condom. you’re both new at this — exploring this dynamic in a more romantic light. he’s lied before and you have to work up the courage to trust he’ll pull out if needed. i imagine the first time he sinks in all hard, and raw, and pulsing it’s difficult for him to hold back, dragging his seedy tip along your welcoming walls that refuse to let him go. he’s probably dreamed about it too, filling you up with so much cum that it just pours out of you, covers your precious pussy in cream.
“are you close?” he gasps for air like it’s been stolen from him, peppering feather light kisses over your teary face. “can we cum at the same time?”
and you’re probably nodding without realising, fucked out and high on fumes that smell just like him. just like sex. scratching stripes down caleb’s broad back — just so completely gone and lost in him.
“don’t think i can pull out, pips,” he says, teeth gritted. “‘m gonna cum inside. deep inside this perfect little hole. my perfect baby. soo close.”
“w-wait, caleb — o-ooh yes! i’m not — i haven’t taken m-my pill yet!” your response is a stuttered snivel — babyish in nature that reminds him of why he loves you so much. even when you ball your fists against his sweaty chest, you’re not really trying to push him away. it’s the same as when you were children, you’d huff and puff at caleb— throw a tantrum for little things, expect him to fix it later on. if anything were to happen, caleb would fix it. “caleb, you promised.”
except he isn’t too keen on fixing anything this time. what will be, will be. fantasies from back then, from his time in the academy and time away from you run rampant at the forefront of his mind muddy his guilty conscience until he’s free. for only a second. if he cums inside you, he can keep you — line you up with seed and make it stick with every forceful punch of his hips into yours. you clench around the thickest part of him, at the base, like you want it too, keeping him trapped along your weeping walls.
if it sticks … you stay.
you can’t seem to pull caleb from the lustful lull of his guilty desires even when you bite and scratch at him — feverish with panic. it’s a pathetic cry for help, a desperate sob but it’s not like either of you could stop if you really wanted to. you’re addicted to the way he fills you, sweet words poured hotly into your mouth between kisses, brown hair tickling your neck because he’s chosen solace there.
and it’s not that the colonel doesn’t care. not that he doesn’t fear the worst. it’s just that he loves the risk, the idea of knocking you up so that no one else can have you. so that he can keep you on skyhaven for the rest of time and never have to worry about you slipping away like a faded memory. you’ll belong wholly to caleb.
“c-caleb, you can’t. you have to — gotta pull out!” you cry but you clamp down again. torn between to worlds with only him to decide.
“don’t think i can,” he whispers into your neck like it’s a secret. how badly he wants to ruin your life. “don’t wanna… have to. have to fill you up with all of me.”
worst part is he doesn’t even apologise for cumming inside. the bed screams with him as his release shoots through him, rope after rope of opaque white smearing over your sex and rippling walls — that milk him without any resistance. instead, caleb’s wet mouth trails whispers of thank you and i love you along your skin accompanied by the grin that lets the gratitude pass through.
he’s just grateful that you’re exactly the same as him. just as bad as him. closer to a sinner than you are to a saint.
end ! likes are appreciated, but just liking doesn’t do much on tumblr! to support and motivate myself and other writers, reply, reblog and comment if you'd like to see more!! — asks are open to thirsts and thoughts! join my taglist ! love you!
In which you & your loving husband, Shinsuke, cry over spilled milk.
3.6K ** CW: pregnant reader, lactating, drinking breast milk. And. It pains me to say this breast milk as lube. But not *lube* lube ya know? also a tiny bit of hurt/comfort, physically and emotionally. Use of ya and yer because im a simple person. Mommy kink but only if you squint and tilt your head. Its there in spirit.
Ever since you told Shinsuke you were pregnant, he's been walking around on cloud nine. Still, it was difficult, the first few months. You were achy, nauseous and always exhausted. Your days together had completely changed and what started as Shinsuke asking old friends and neighbors for help around the farm and house has turned into serious “Help Wanted” signs posted in town.
You're about 5 months pregnant now, and things have gotten better and simultaneously so much worse.
For one thing, your bump is noticeable now. News travels fast in a town like this, but if there was anyone who didn't know you were pregnant before, it's obvious now. Your jeans barely fit, tight around the hips and thighs – and ass, for that matter, but no complaints there. You've gone from lounging in Shinsuke's borrowed clothes to living in them entirely.
(You refuse to start shopping for maternity wear yet. There's still plenty of time and you'll outgrow everything soon anyway. Shinsuke has been trying to spoil you with pretty sundresses that fit and flow in all the right places, but you made him return all but three. He swears he doesn't pout but there's no other word for it.)
Shinsuke is…coping. He's been a good husband and a very, very strong man. You don't initiate much, which means he hasn't initiated anything.
He wants to, so badly it hurts sometimes, and that's not just a figure of speech. He's woken up hard and throbbing, rushing to the bathroom to jerk off fast enough to make his dick chafe. He sneaks out of your bed in the middle of the night to change out of cum-soaked pants after particularly sweet dreams. He's been coming home with silly little injuries because he can't focus on his work. You think he's been distracted because he's worried. How is he supposed to tell you he hurt his ankle because he missed a step as he was replaying the way your backside jiggled when you tried to jump into your jeans that day?
He's never been so pent up in his life.
You're watching TikToks while Shinsuke lies on your lap reading yet another article on nursery decorating on his phone. He's trying to focus on the words on the screen but with the growing bump behind him and your soft, plush thighs as his pillow, he finds himself a little distracted.
You're wearing one of the few dresses you kept. The hemline normally rests just above the knee but each time he shifts his head in your lap, it inches up a little. A real shame he's been so fidgety tonight.
You gasp above him and he waits for you to show him whatever video caused the reaction, but when a moment passes without follow up, he tilts his head to see you grimacing.
“What’s wrong?” The distress in his voice matches the expression on your face.
He watches you fondl- massage your breast as you whimper (in pain, he reminds himself, tearing his eyes away).
“Hurts”, is all you manage to say.
He twists awkwardly, legs still on the couch as he tries to face you. One hand supports him while the other reaches for your face.
“What can I do? How can I help?”
“It's fine. It'll pass.” you groan. “It's just. My milk has been coming in lately and it's a little sore.”
Like a reflex, Shinsuke thinks back on everything he read on the subject and he carefully moves your hand away.
“Ya can't just squeeze like that, yer gonna make it worse.” His hand gently cups.
His intentions were pure, intent on easing your pain, but the moment he has a handful of you, he almost regrets his offer. He tries to focus on remembering what he read in clinical detail. Rubbing small circles with finger tips, lessening and applying more pressure according to your reaction. He's doing a really good job ignoring the heat in his belly until you sign in relief.
He looks up to find your eyes closed, lips parted as your head tilts back. He takes a deep breath and concentrates on helping, even as he watches your face for signs of pain.
He continues his ministrations and his fingers brush your nipple. He's careful, knowing how sensitive it must be, but even still you whine. Keen might be a better word, he thinks, seeing your brows furrow. But he's momentarily distracted by the damp cotton under his fingertips.
Chancing a look, he notices a small wet spot growing, with the fabric clinging to your ripple at the center.
“Oh. You're-” leaking? Dripping? Every word that comes to mind is accompanied by the mental image of your cunt soaking his fingers, or tongue, or- “I'll get a cloth to clean ya up.”
You whine immediately in the absence of his touch. “Don't go. Feels so much better now.”
Shinsuke places his hand back on your breast, softly kneading, but he laments, “We're gonna mess up yer pretty dress, Sweetheart”. The thought actually pains him. He'd been hoping to see you wear it again soon but now he'll have to wash it first, and he hasn't read anything about breast milk staining but it is a new dress so he should really be careful and- his brain stops completely.
You're tugging your dress down by the strap, his hand pulling away just enough for you to get the fabric down. He'd been doing so well at ignoring his growing erection but he swears he can feel himself twitch in his pants at the way your breasts jiggle. He's not sure how long he stares, but you whine for him.
“Shin, please. It's starting to hurt again. This one too”
He doesn't need any more encouragement than that. Cupping your tits in each hand, he focuses on soft, gentle movements, fighting not to squeeze just to watch his fingers dig into supple skin.
Despite his best efforts, he can't look away from the pearly droplet beading at your nipple. As lightly as he can, he brushes his thumb over the bud, collecting the liquid. He won't risk taking his hand away, so he leans his head forward, licking his thumb as the rest of his fingers draw circles in your skin. He sighs contentedly at the taste and the sound, coupled with his breath ghosting over damp skin, makes you moan.
When you look down and see him pressed so close to where you're most sensitive, you place your hand at the back of his head. You don't push, but the suggestion lies in the touch anyway. He looks up at you with hungry, questioning eyes.
“It'll help,” you assure him.
That's all he needed to hear.
His lips slide over you, and for a while, his tongue just laps at you. He savors the taste of what's already spilled, the tip of his tongue dipping into the divot of your nipple until he's replaced every drop of milk with his own spit. It feels unbelievably good to have his mouth on you again. Neither of you can remember the last time he touched you like this. He squeezes your tit – just the one, lest he waste any more milk – and hums at the answering stream.
You moan at the feeling, high and needy. It's not enough for him. He hollows his cheeks a little and it surprises him how much fills his mouth this time. With both his hands on you, his head is only supported by your hands in his hair and your grip on the strands tightens as you whimper.
“Fuck, Shinsuke. Feels so good, thank you.”
The praise washes over him, clearing away any shame. He's helping you. You were in pain a second ago and now you feel good. He's doing exactly what he's supposed to do as your husband. He closes his eyes and enjoys the moment, refusing to acknowledge how painfully his cock strains against his jeans.
Time passes with heavy breathing filling the air, and the occasional whimper when Shinsuke lets his teeth graze you. Eventually, you pull him away, and he separates with a pop that seems to echo in the silence. A cold pit of dread sits in his stomach.
“You okay? Was it too much? I'm sorry, I just-”
You ignore his frantic apologies and adjust him as best as you can.
“It's okay I just. I need you on the other one now. This side doesn't hurt as bad but you could make it even better for me, yeah?”
Wordlessly, he takes your other nipple into his mouth, skipping all pretense and sucking immediately. Your previous moans were tinged with pain or relief, but he knows this one is pure pleasure. It makes him feel less bad about the thoughts he's been having.
With one hand free, he finally reaches down to relieve the pressure on his cock, simply unbuttoning his jeans and unzipping them. The sound or the movement must catch your attention because you say, “Baby… that looks painful. How long have you been like this?”
He squeezes his eyes tightly and shakes his head as hard as he can without pulling his mouth away. You hush him gently, scratching at his scalp.
“It's okay. You're making me feel so good, Shin. It's okay if you feel good too.”
That's all the permission he needs. He pulls his pants and underwear down just enough to free his cock, and he distantly notes you squirm beneath him. He won't bother looking down, but he's sure his cock is red and angry with neglect. He can feel precum soaking the head. When he finally wraps a hand around himself, he trembles so hard, he thinks he might've cum for a second.
“Fuck, Shin. That's so hot. You're too good to me, always taking such good care of me. Wouldn't even touch yourself would you, baby?”
He can't answer, too busy focusing on stream after stream of milk on his tongue as his bucks into his tight fist.
Your voice is getting shaky as you talk to him, desperate and weak. “You were about to cum in your pants, weren't you? Guess you don't mind wasting it since you already knocked me up.”
His head falls back with a punched-out groan, overwhelmed by your words, and he misses you in his mouth immediately. He sucks at your nipple – hard this time, hard enough to hurt – then spits it into his palm. Milky white spit covers his hand and he wishes he could admire the image, commit it to memory to save it for the next time you're asleep and he needs you, but there's no time. He wraps his wet hand around his cock again and pumps quickly
He hears you whisper “Jesus fucking Christ” above him, then feels your hand on him. The rough, dry palm of your hand rubs over the head of his cock and it hurts.
Tears bead at his eyelashes and he bites your tit in an attempt not to scream as his eyes roll back. You, in turn, pull his hair with the hand still holding him to your chest.
He cums, and it's messy. It spills over his hands, his shirt, and his stomach where the hemline rides up. His hand slows as he rides out his orgasm, and your hand shifts down to stroke him in time with his own movements. He could fall asleep like this, with his cock warm but softening in your hand, belly full of your milk.
But you're letting go, both hands moving away from him. His head falls as you lower your hand and he feels your thighs tremble under him.
“Shinsuke”, you whine. And he knows that tone. He meets your eyes and sees the pleading in them. He keeps that eye contact as moves off the couch, sinking to his knees and wiping his dirty hand on his shirt. He looks up at you as his hands settle just above your knee. Your dress hem is a mess, extra fabric pooling just below your bump, and your tits are still exposed to the open air, spit and milk cooling on your nipples. His hands run up and down your thighs a few times before his thumb brushes at the fabric.
He licks his lips, hands sliding under your dress. “Is this what ya need, sweetheart?”
You simply nod. Another day, he'd make you use your words, make you beg. But – “I've been neglecting ya, haven't I, honey?”
You try to deny it, but his thumb is brushing your absolutely soaked panties, right down the seam of your lips. He pulls the garment away by the waistband.
He holds them up to admire them for a minute, pleased to find they're a pretty pastel color to match your dress. Your slick catches the light and a string of gossamer stretches from the fabric to his thumb as he pulls it away. They're so wet. He can only imagine how your pussy must've been aching for him.
He pulls you towards the edge of the couch by your hips, and once you're settled, he moves your dress up the last few inches needed. He kneels further, legs folded and sits between your spread legs. A thumb on either side spreads your folds every so slightly, and another drop of slick pours out, sure to leave a puddle on the couch
“Stop teasing.” You pout.
Shinsuke kisses your knee and obeys, sliding two fingers inside you, knowing you can take it.
“You're right. What kinda husband doesn't take care of his pregnant wife?” His fingers pump inside of you slowly, but he's sure to massage your walls with each stroke, so you don't complain. A third finger slides in, but it's not long before he's pulling them all out. You whine, as expected, until his tongue is licking up every drop you've spilt so far. Once that's been swallowed, his tongue slides in further, suckling at your hole.
“My pretty little wife.” He tuts, breath heating your core “Walking around with her tits full and cunny empty”.
You shiver. You always do when he talks like this.
Three fingers slide back into you as his lips circle your clit. He sucks your clit like he did your nipples, as if he's expecting something to spill from it, like he can get a mouthful.
Your hands work into his hair, and you pull him closer to your core as your hips jerk. His free hand grabs your hips, encouraging you to continue your movements. You ride his fingers and thumb as best as you can as he sighs like he could die happy between your legs.
He can tell from the way you squeeze around his fingers that you're close, and it's sooner than usual. Maybe it's the hormones, maybe you've been depriving yourself in his absence, or maybe you enjoyed him taking your milk as much as he did. The reason doesn't matter right now, he's just focused on pushing you over the edge you're so clearly at.
His fingertips press into the spongy spot inside of you as he sucks your clit, and it's not long before you're coming around his fingers. He works you through it untiof l you're scooting away with an overstimulated whine.
Shinsuke rises up so he's on his knees. He's a few inches shorter as you sink into the couch, so he leans forward, looking up to face you even as your eyes close.
He places a hand on the side of your face, thumb brushing across your cheek. “Carry ya to bed?”
You hesitate, but ultimately nod. Shinsuke pulls you to stand as he gets on his own feet, then large hands grip your thighs, urging you to hop up. Your center of gravity is changing, and Shinsuke has to kneel a little for you to wrap your legs around him. Your belly presses against his and he notices the change in your weight, a welcome heaviness in his arms. He privately wonders if he'll be able to keep carrying you as your pregnancy progresses. He makes it a goal to lift weights more, then focuses on anything other than the fact that your breasts are still bare against him and you're naked under that thin cotton dress.
Not ready to let you go, he sits down with you in his lap rather than laying you on the bed, then he shuffles up against the headboard. He adjusts your dress to give you some form of modesty, then wraps a blanket around your back
He's missed having you in his lap like this, your warmth and weight grounding him. The first trimester left you sore, unable to sit anywhere but the mattress, surrounded by pillows. But lately, you've been self-conscious about your body, he knows. He's seen you blink away tears when you're on your third outfit because nothing fits the way you want. He's surprised you let him carry you, expecting you to protest about how heavy you are.
He's content to sit like this until you both fall asleep, but he can feel your breath stutter as his hand strokes up and down your back. Stuttering breaths turn to sniffles and he feels wetness where your face is buried in the crook of his neck.
“Honey? Does it hurt somewhere?” His hands drop to your lower back, instinctively massaging the area you've complained about lately. His worry and confusion double as you shake your head and cry harder.
“I thought”, you hiccup. “I thought maybe you weren't attracted to me anymore”. The admission seems to break something within you, and you can't stop sobbing into his already soaked shirt.
Shinsuke doesn't shush you, doesn't even placate you yet. He gently pulls you from your hiding spot and makes you face him even as your tears blur his face. He brushes your hair back and wipes your tears, kissing your cheek, your forehead, wherever his hands don't cover.
When you calm down enough to breathe without gasping, he gives you a soft peck on the mouth and pulls away just enough for you to meet his eyes. You fight to look away but his hold is firm.
“How could ya ever think that?”
You take a deep breath, like you have to steel yourself for the conversation ahead. “You barely touch me anymore. I can't even remember the last time we had sex. I thought maybe you were just tired, or stressed about the baby or something but. I can hear you, you know. In the mornings… So I know your sex drive’s not the problem.”
Shinsuke's face is on fire. “I- I'm so sorry. I didn't realize-”
You misinterpret what he's apologizing for. “No, it's okay. I know I'm not exactly in the same shape you married.”
“You're beautiful. I love ya more every day.” He sounds panicked, even to his own ears, but he needs you to understand this.
You scoff. “Yeah, okay.”
“No, sweetheart, I mean it.” His hands slide to your hips, pinkies resting over the swell of your ass. “Pregnancy looks so good on ya.” Despite his efforts to have self-control, his eyes fall to your chest. “Ya carry it really well.”
“Oh”, you breathe. His voice and the look in his eyes surprises you, but it's starting to make sense. His hands move to the sides of your stomach even as his eyes stay glued to your cleavage. “Oh. You really-” you giggle, in relief and stupor.
Shinsuke laughs a little with you, even as his embarrassment grows into a tangible thing. “I'll love yer body when you start penguin waddling and I'll love yer body if ya lose every bit of pregnancy weight. Don't ever doubt that.”
You bite your lip to suppress your laughter. Still a little giddy, you ask “Why didn't you say anything?”
“I shouldn't react like this to ya carrying our child.” He says it like it's obvious.
You snort at his petulant tone, then kiss him. “I forget how stubborn you can be.” He pouts, so you kiss him again.
“I didn't wanna make ya uncomfortable either.” He says, defensively.
Your eyes soften, and you kiss him once more, deeper this time. You pull away and shift out of his lap, settling into bed properly. He follows your lead, lying next to you, throwing a blanket over you both.
“Hold on. So were you actually getting off thinking about me all those times?”
He wants very little more than to forget that day, but if it'll ease your worries, he'll confess. “Remember a couple months ago I tweaked my ankle?” You nod. “Tripped stepping out of the tractor because I was thinking about your ass”
“You're lying.” You know he'd never, but it's hard to believe.
Shinsuke sighs heavily, as a part of his soul exits with the breath. “I had to... take care of myself in one of the trailers out there.”
“Oh my god.” he can hear the laughter taking over your voice. “Oh my god”.
If he buries his face in your breast, it's just to hide his embarrassment.
You play with his hair as your giggles die down. “Does this mean you have a breeding kink?”
“Go to sleep, please.”
“We have to talk about this eventually, you can't deny me this. You used my breast milk to get your dick wet.”
He pushes his face into your chest further, and his repeated “Please go to sleep” is muffled. You decide to afford him mercy until morning.
big brother caleb asks you about his missing clothes at the right wrong time. — 3.2k
ద ⋮ pair ; caleb x tmasc reader
ద ⋮ cw ; mdni. suggestive but no actual smut, transmasc reader, pseudocest, dubcon technically, predator/prey metaphors, caleb is obsessed/weird/possessive about you but you match the energy, perv4perv, masturbation, scent kink ig, reader described smaller than caleb, mentions of bottom growth, use of ‘baby’, ‘precious’ and ‘little one’ as pet names
ద ⋮ a/n ; happy self indulgence <3 idk what happened i wanted to write caleb teaching his lil brother how to touch himself and somehow wrote 3k of buildup instead . will i ever continue this ? who knows... i havent written since like 2022 please be nice
It’s late. Late enough the household should’ve been encased in a slumber, and yet contrarily here you were—awake, impatient, and buzzing under the moonlight. The radiance shimmered along your skin, virtually bare upper-half enveloped in a glow.
You thought it was safe, assumed your brother was sound asleep in the next room over. Maybe the sound of the dryer should’ve tipped you off, or the rustling through the wall you told yourself you didn’t hear. Hell, maybe you knew the whole time and decided you didn’t care. Right now, there wasn't room to think about right from wrong, it all mushed together. In this state of mind, all you knew were needs and desires.
Caleb happened to be both.
“Pips, have any of my—”
It was like you had spoken him into existence, had somehow manifested him with filthy thoughts and echoes of his name bouncing around your mind. A distant, muffled voice shouted in the back of your head—something about needing to learn to lock your door. Your brother rarely did knock these days.
Caleb appeared in your doorway, paused mid-motion; whatever words were in his throat seemed to die on his tongue. The expectation was to see you half asleep, doomscrolling for what had likely been way too long. He had planned to watch you hide the brightness of your screen under the blanket, to act like he’d just woken you up. What he was met with—something that lit his entire body aflame, a scene hand plucked from the depths of his fantasies.
The bundled sheets thrown around the bed did little to cover any part of you, much more gathered around your body than thrown over it. Your chest was the only thing sheathed underneath fabric, even if just barely. The material pushed up enough to reveal the skin of your stomach, shape of your waist in perfect view. His fingers twitched. You weren’t even facing him, too engaged in some sort of trance while the luminescence of the moon hugged your skin.
All you had heard was noise. A glassy gleam hazed over your eyes, distorted your vision as you glanced towards the door. You didn’t seem all too surprised someone was stood there.
If you were looking at him, actually looking at him, you’d catch his adam’s apple bob in his throat, watch how his gaze zeroed in on you while his tongue wet his lower lip. It was like he’d walked in on prey setting their own trap, so sickly sweet waiting to be caught.
The reason he even stepped in here was wrapped around your lower half, giving him an answer to his original cut-off question. Yes, you did have his boxers. One pair, at least. Did you… take them?— Caleb shook his head, a weak attempt at stopping himself from projecting his pervert tendencies onto you. You were his baby brother, it was likely you just grabbed some of his clothes to add to the load and forgot to give them back.
Right?
Caleb goes to apologize, to save whatever semblance of normalcy your relationship had, but what comes out was.. Not that. Nearly the complete opposite of that. He groans, and it’s loud. His eyes have not quit scanning over your body, drinking in all of the exposed skin that twinkled under the moon, studying the way his boxers fit around your lower half (they, in fact, did not). It was clear the piece of clothing was not yours, but here they were, pulled up snuggly on your hips.
With your knees spread, you were on display; unabashedly beginning to put on a show for the one person you really shouldn’t, and yet, the only person you’d ever wanted to. Something in you was saying you should be more embarrassed, laid out and discovered while you palmed yourself over stolen fabric. You just couldn’t find it in yourself to care. The material felt so nice against your skin, nicer than anything you owned; who’s to tell if some of that was just the buzz from knowing they were his.
You barely stopped what you were doing, presenting more of yourself with the few movements you had made since the “interruption.” You drew your fingers up to the little tent forming in your— his boxers. The soft cotton seemed happy to gather your slick, clinging to you, outlining just enough he began to imagine what was hidden underneath.
With one of your fingers on either side of the bud in your shorts—hard and begging for an inch of attention—you started to stroke yourself. A pleased sigh quick to pass your lips, misting through the room and straight through Caleb’s ears. It pulled him out of the daze he’d fallen into, eyeing you.
“I— God, sorry. I—” Gulp. “Should’a knocked—”
His mouth opened with a less angelic tone, at least he would consider it so. You, on the other hand, thought he sounded delicious—a breathlessness from him you’d ached for, dreamed about. It had you whimpering, hearing his voice, whatever words that tumbled past his lips were of little importance.
Your gaze flickered up to finally meet his, heavy lids finding wide eyes. The room was still too dark to make out much. You wanted to see him. Were his ears pink? Pupils blown? You wanted to find his eyes raking over you, wanted him to forget the dignified big brother act he’d kept on so long and give in like you finally had.
Caleb was busy getting smothered by his own cravings, attempting to swallow some of the—embarrassing amount of—spit that had begun to pool on his tongue. He felt like he couldn’t take a whole breath. There wasn't enough blood going to his brain to make a move, regardless which way his ‘moral compass’ pointed him. He started to worry just breathing would break the thickness in the air, afraid filling his lungs would somehow, someway, cement you further and further out of his reach.
Mind starting to fog, he tried to come up with his next move. What was the best course of action here? Was there one? He had to think of something that didn’t involve somehow hurting you—
“Mmmph—”
The enchanting sound slipped from your mouth into the air, misting its way over. It orbited itself around Caleb’s head.
He choked.
It was sick—the way his body flushed, how fucking hard he was leaning against his brother’s doorframe—and yet not a single part of him dared to move. Caleb knew full well he needed to leave, that he needed to turn around, walk out, close the door—
“Mm, need helppp—”
It was so unbelievably whiny, hitting him square in the chest with such a fervent tone. You had seemed so uneffected by his presence, barely sparing him a glance, and now the truth begun to shine through. Hearing your precious, honey-dipped plea made him throb, painfully strained up against his shorts. Caleb had to shut his eyes when he responded.
“I— Help? Baby— I don’t think—”
“Ah— Please,” your hips twitch, “Wanna feel how much better it is when you do it.”
He swore under his breath, chest starting to heave with how deep he was inhaling. He blinked everything back into existence, eyes fixated on the bed—drinking in the bewitching temptation laid before him. He straightened up, pushing himself off the doorframe.
Caleb never was good at denying you.
“…You sure? You gotta be really, really sure.”
You were nodding before his lips could even form the second word, already having predicted what was to come plummeting out. Your thighs stretched further apart, adding another, nonverbal, reassurance.
“Gonna need you to use your words for me, honey.”
Caleb’s movements didn't uphold the firmness in his voice, eager bits peeking through as he promptly made his way over. He stood so close, eyes sweeping over the view presented to him. You watched as he begun to piece together just what he was seeing, his stare stuck on the one piece of fabric blanketed over your body.
“‘S that… my shirt?”
Another thing itching for some spoken response—though this one was, surely, rhetorical. He already knew. It was the one he had on yesterday, and you weren’t even wearing it, not really at least. The worn cloth was draped over the most intimate parts of your torso, right across your chest—pile of cotton placed close enough to stick your nose into.
“Mm, was on top. Smelled the most like you.”
“God—” Caleb’s lids squeezed shut and something stirred in his sweats, “You’re tryna make me go crazy, huh?”
His eyes flicked back open, dead set on his target: you. You're unsure if it was the lack of actual light—half of his face faintly illuminated—but the familiar violet was lost, whatever sliver of color you were met with was darker than anything recognizable. His gaze could only be described as predatory, and it shot a shiver up your spine.
“Sayin’ stuff like that while laid out like this, all pretty,” the mattress dipped under his weight, “Wearing my underwear… I’m supposed to be a good big brother, y’know. Good big brothers aren’t supposed to think like this—think about their baby brother laying in the room next door, shouldn’t wonder how big his cock has gotten, or try to picture how cute it’d look hard ‘nd twitching.”
One of Caleb’s knees cushioned itself on the bed, other foot still sturdy on the floor. Rough hands ghosted over the skin of your calves, he was just narrowly holding onto an inch of his sanity.
“How could I be expected to do any of that now, hm? How am I supposed to be ‘Good Big Brother Caleb’ when I’ve just found my precious baby bein’ a huge perv?”
It was sudden, how his grasp found hold on you. You expected teasing, an almost maddening amount, even. It had been the game you played with him for—what might as well have been—your whole life; teasing, teasing, and more teasing. There were sprinkles of ‘weird’ amounts of fondness and handfuls of so-called ‘accidental’ touches; torn shreds of something forbidden that you both, consistently and unspokenly, pushed the boundaries of.
But it’d been spoken of now. The air that surrounded you two had become thick, cleansed and yet simultaneously tainted. It’s the fullest your lungs have felt in years, somehow the freshest breaths you’ve arguably ever taken. For something allegedly so shameful, it felt undeniably magnetic, like a final piece was starting to fall into place.
With a grip on your hip with one hand and the other wrapped around your thigh—Caleb tugged— manhandling you to the corner of your bed as if he didn't have a gravity evol at his fingertips. A yelp slipped through your lips and a resulting chuckle bubbled up past his. It was borderline condescending, the sound from his throat, a patronizing noise that only added to the warmth that burned under your skin.
“Real cute, but not what I need, little one. C’mon, words.”
Your thighs quivered as he slapped at the inner, most sensitive parts; an unexpected amount of impact that made your eyes widen. The sound that echoed was louder than anything, but there was a resulting sting that had you jolting your hips into empty air.
He moved to tower over you, broad shoulders casting a shadow. A hand positioned inches from your head, fingers sunk into the plush of the mattress as he held himself up. His knee was slotted between your open legs, pressed more to your ass than core—doing absolutely nothing to relieve any ache, any of your needs.
His heart skipped a few beats in his chest, years and years of desire overtaking his psyche and flooding his veins. You were finally laid out within reach—vulnerable, pliant. Being so close to taking you how he’d always wanted, needed, dreamed of—it had his mind in a complete whirlwind.
Caleb was fighting hard to keep his eyes on your face, putting on a mask of patience he’d hastily glued together. He was aching for your okay, desperate for the confirmation to go ahead and devour you.
“‘M sure. Really sure.”
Consenting so readily, so easily. You have absolutely no idea what agreeing to all this is gonna do to him. Do you?
Caleb had always felt lucky to be your big brother; truly believed nobody else deserved you, that you were a masterpiece only his eyes were to be blessed with. Not a single other soul should get to see you like this, get even a whisper of the melodies that played off your lips; it was all meant for him.
No one could know you the way he did. Just the thought had his stomach churning; the possibility of someone else’s name rolling off your tongue, someone else getting to memorize you—No, wrong. They weren’t worthy of it. The world wasn't worthy of it, of you. And hypocritically, Caleb didn’t think he was either. But, for some reason, the universe gave him a blessing—because you seemed to believe different. You thought he was worthy, and that was all he needed. All he needed to confirm he had to stay by your side. So, he kept going; continued to exploit your positively skewed version of him, continued to use it to his advantage. If being selfish was what it took, he’d do it again, a thousand times over if he had to. Nothing else mattered. All there was, was walking this life (and all the ones after) with you.
“Mmm, yeah?” Caleb leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss between your brows. He lingered a moment, brushing his lips across your skin, only stopping to lowly whisper toward your ear, “Don’t regret it now.. You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.”
As he pushed himself back up, he met your stare—pupils blown and mouth parted. Something flashed in the deep violet of his eyes as he went to stand, his body heat threatening to separate from yours.
Quick to grab at his waist, your fingertips dug crescents into his skin. A sharp inhale preceded your voice.
“Wait—”
And so he did. Caleb paused, only his eyes moving—irises having snapped up to your face. He was eagerly searching your expression, doing his best to keep his own breathing even. He told himself to focus on your grip, your fingers at his sides, to commit how your hands felt to memory. He desperately tried not to spiral, not to make a list of all the things you could possibly say next. He really tried not think about how there was a chance you were about to tell him you didn't want this. That you didn’t want him. Could he really walk out of here and pretend this never happened? Go back to how things were before? Back to the endless pining, the painfully suppressed feelings? Could he seriously act like he’d moved on from you?
(Regardless of the ache, he’d do whatever it took. Anything to stay with you. Even if it meant handing you his heart and watching you shoot through the middle. He’d spent years teaching you to how—how to aim, how to shoot. There was no question in his mind, you’d hit it perfect, straight on—break it in enough pieces, he’d never find them all. But he’d spend the rest of his days blinded and searching for broken shreds of himself; anything if it meant continuing to bask in the sun, his sun, you. No matter how big the you-shaped hole in his chest got.)
He started nibbling on his bottom lip when nothing was said for a beat, not willing to break the silence before you did. Caleb needed you to shatter it first, needed to know what was going on in your head.
Your throat bobbed, and he could hear the saliva stuck to your tongue as your lips parted.
“I—”
Unsurprisingly, he wasn't the only one trying to save themselves from crashing. Caleb had aired such filth, confessed to such taboo thoughts that validated he wanted you, that he has wanted you—yet it wasn't enough to stop the ‘what ifs’ cursing through your head. What if it was just lust to him? Was there a chance he didn’t crave you the same way? Will there be another opportunity to indulge in something like this? Would this be the last and only time you’d get to experience this side of Caleb?
“Hey, hey—”
The voice you’d grown to associate with comfort wrapped itself around your body, swiftly grabbing your attention and pushing air back into your lungs. Tension you weren't even aware of slowly began to release from your shoulders, a warmth coming up to cup your face. Caleb’s hand now holding your jaw, his thumb swept over the apple of your cheek. He cooed at you.
“Talk to me.” There was a gentleness that disguised some of the pain seeking to fracture through, “I’m— Shit. Sorry, I got.. too intense. It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind—”
You slapped a hand over his mouth, face flush and heart pumping. Your big brother talked too much; regularly insisted on doing it for you when he had the chance. He loved finishing your sentences, always smiled bright when he correctly guessed what you were thinking. Usually, you loved it too. It made your body warm—being so known, so understood. He’d comprehended all the wirings in your brain, had absorbed your quirks. It was almost laughable how he’d missed such a vital section while holding your soul in his hands, how he seemingly never found the large piece locked down just for him.
“No, that’s—”
You shook your head, attempting to look anywhere but him as nerves flushed through your body. You were much more afraid of him leaving you here than anything else the moon could witness tonight. There was no question, you wanted this. You wanted him.
With his hold on you, there was little choice but to meet his gaze. Hand falling back to the mattress, you unmasked the lower half of his face; eyes fixed on the way his tongue poked out, swiping itself across his lip and making them—him—all the more tempting.
“I want—” A shaky breath. “… Will you.. kiss me?”
You watch his concern morph into disbelief. He opened and closed his mouth once, twice—on the third you decided to give him an out.
“Nevermind. Forget I ask—”
Caleb’s mouth muffled your words, pushing them back down as his lips mended to yours. Time must’ve stopped. Surely every being the universe had paused in that moment, generously giving you two the extra uncounted seconds to relish in the feeling. You decided you needed all of eternity to taste him, savour all of him and mold your mouth perfectly to his. It was both everything and not enough.
“Don’t. Don’t take it back,” Caleb spoke directly into your mouth, unable to resist slotting his lips back against yours. He made a sound in his throat before pulling away, giving space—maybe three inches—to breathe. “You are so, so cute. Ask me again. Please.”
“Caleb—”
“Please. Ask me.”
The minimal air that connected you both ran warm, the most stagnant it’d felt all night. Your eyes darted between his, unsure what you were searching for.
I'm begging those of you who write black!fem x reader fics to stop making everything "hood" and "ghetto" and aggressive... Black women deserve to be written softly and deserve to be treated softly even in fiction, not everything has to be this hard knock life bullshit how are yall not embarrassed writing that shit constantly??
Enforcing the "masculine" and/or "angry black woman" stereotypes even in fiction when you, yourself, are a black woman is the most ass backwards bullshit I've ever seen
And it's equally as bad when you write her softly but always write the male character she's paired with as some drug dealing thug.
Drug dealer!toji, hood!bakugou, hood!zoro... get that shit out my fucking face man I'm tired of reading it, learn to write black stories better or don't write them at all my GOD.
Black women deserve soft love and soft lovers, don't piss me off.
thinking about caleb who comes back to you wrong...
18+ mdni !!! (horror (folk horror), smut, dd:dne)
cw: fem!reader, changeling!caleb, ‼️PSEUDOCEST‼️ , use of 'gege, mei mei, & brother', dubcon (maybe ?), (off-screen) character death, grief & mourning, again DD:DNE, inaccurate changeling lore perhaps, i think that's it ? , word count: 1.6k
“For the last time, Zayne, I swear I’m fine,” you say, knowing neither of you believes the words. It’s late, and you’re tired, and the last thing you want to be doing is having this debate again. The conversation is going in circles, the way it always does– the way it has nearly every week since the accident.
He sighs, and you can practically picture the pinched expression on his face. “I’m just worried about you. It’s been six months since–” He cuts himself off, a tense silence filling the air.
“It’s been six months since the explosion. Six months since Grandma died– since Caleb died. You can say it.” Your words come out sharp, digging underneath his skin like a knife against the peel of an apple.
You can hear the frustration in his tone as he speaks. “You came to me for help, for comfort. I’m trying to look after you.”
You can’t help but scoff. “I don’t need you to look after me, I don’t want you to look after me. You’re not Caleb.”
You’re not surprised when you hear a familiar click as he hangs up without a word. Were your words unnecessarily cruel? Maybe, but so was losing Josephine and Caleb in the same night.
The heavy sound of a fist slamming against your door echoes through the empty air. “Coming,” you shout, sliding your phone back in your pocket. The knocking grows louder, borderline frantic, as you rush to yank the door open. “What do you–”
“Hey, Pipsqueak,” the nickname falls freely from his lips. The voice you never thought you’d hear again is ringing in your ears as you stare into Caleb’s soft eyes. Your chest aches, broken sobs leaving your mouth as he drags you into a hug, shutting the door behind him.
You shake your head, hands pushing at his chest as he pulls you tighter against his chest, his nose pressed into your skin as he breathes in deep.
How? How are you here? You want to ask, but you’re terrified to. What if saying it out loud– acknowledging it– brings the illusion crashing down?
So, you don’t. “Caleb, are you… Are you okay?” you whisper, hand running along his spine. He nods against you, stepping back slightly to give you some room.
“I missed you, mei mei.”
You sniffle, glancing away from his piercing stare. “I missed you too, gege– more than you can imagine.”
The two of you share a bed that night, his arms wrapped tight around you as you rest your head on his chest. It reminds you of the rare nights you’d crawl into his bed after a nightmare as a small child.
Your eyes flutter before quickly widening as you notice the empty bed. It had felt so real– too real– but was it just another dream?
Stumbling into the kitchen, you glance down at your phone and find several missed calls from Zayne– you shut the device off completely. “Morning, princess, I made your favorite!” His voice is cheery, smiling at you as if he belongs here– like he’s not supposed to be dead.
“Morning,” you whisper, body flinching when he goes to ruffle your hair. He tilts his head, a pout on his face, but his eyes are cold– as if he’s trying to study your reaction.
“Don’t tell me you're too old for your brother to tease you?”
It’s odd, the emphasis he puts on the word, the entire sentence is, if you really think about it. You should think about it, right? You don’t– no, you refuse to.
“Sorry, guess I’m still jumpy– had a bad dream,” the lie falls from your lips so easily. You’re sure he’ll be able to tell– he always is– instead, he just smiles and nods.
It’s strange, being around Caleb now. He’s different in some ways– the ways that should really matter.
“What’d you say this movie was called again?” he asks, his arm tossed over your shoulder, bowl of popcorn sitting in your lap. You laugh, voice slowly quieting at the raised eyebrow he gives you. “Don’t make fun of me, honey.”
Your eyes widen as you realize he’s serious. “Caleb, this… It’s A Day with My Pilot, Ta-ta.” Your heart pounds as he stares at you, his face blank as if the words mean nothing to him. “You’ve watched it before– you love this movie.”
He shrugs, ignoring the squeak you let out as he pulls you into his lap suddenly. “Guess I forgot.”
He seems to be doing that a lot–forgetting things– small moments from when you were younger. It wouldn’t be unsettling but he always softly repeats them back to you– as if he’s committing them to memory.
He’s still your Caleb– your gege– though. He still teases you, ruffles your hair, and laughs with you. The two of you can still have moments like this.
“Stop,” you laugh, arms pinned above your head as he hovers on top of you.
He grins down at you, shaking his head side to side. “Hand over the remote, admit defeat!”
Your laughter stops at the feeling of his hard cock pressing against your front. “Caleb…” His hips roll against you, a soft grunt leaving his mouth as you thrash against him. “Caleb, stop!”
His movements halt, calculating stare locked on you as he slowly pulls away. “Sorry, pips.” The words fall flat, like he’s not sure why he’s apologizing.
“It’s, it’s fine. I’m gonna go lie down for a bit,” you mumble, scrambling to your bedroom as you lock the door behind you.
You’re not sure what’s worse, the sticky feeling between your thighs or the sickening realization that this isn’t your Caleb.
A groan echoes in the hallway so loud that you know it can’t be far from outside your door. You swallow hard, mouth dry as you lean back against the wood. You shut your eyes, cunt dripping as you hear him fisting himself right next to your room.
It’s wrong, you know it is– you’ve always known. You should be sick with guilt as your hand dips into your lounge shorts, finger sliding between your folds. You let your slick gather on the tip before quickly finding your clit, tracing soft circles.
“Fuck, mei mei,” Caleb– no, not Caleb– whines.
You bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood, refusing to allow yourself to call his name out.
“It’s not like I’m really your brother.” his words are louder; you can feel the door shake as he presses the palm of his hand against it. “It’s not like I’m really him.”
The confession doesn’t shock you, and it doesn’t stop you from pressing down harder against your swollen bud. It’s too much, that familiar knot already forming in your stomach. You can hear everything: the sound of his heavy breathing, the wet noises as he strokes his cock, your name falling from his lips.
His fist slams against the door, a choked moan falling from his mouth as he lets go. You glance down at the floor, eyes widening at the sight of white against the floor– his carefully aimed cum just barely dripping into your room.
You shudder, head leaning back against the wood as your mouth opens before you can think. “Gege, please,” you whine, cunt clenching around nothing as you cum.
You swallow the regret that settles on your tongue– you swear it tastes like fresh apples– as your body collapses. Your knees press snugly against your chest as you sink to the floor.
You should feel disgusted with yourself. Caleb’s your brother– your gege. You shouldn’t think about him like this, you shouldn’t be cumming to thought of him.
Except you don’t, because Caleb's dead, he's gone, and this isn't Caleb; this version of him actually wants you back.
“He was hard to figure out, your Caleb. He had such conflicting thoughts and feelings about his precious Mei Mei,” his voice calls out to you– taunts you. “It was hard to know if I needed to be the version of him that placed bandages over your scraped knees or the one who fantasized about spilling his seed deep inside your cunt.”
It’s a lie, it has to be, your Caleb didn’t think about you like that– he didn’t feel for you the way you do him.
“Shut the fuck up,” your voice cracks, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.
He continues anyway. “Once I saw how you reacted to him being alive, to me, I knew you wanted me to be both.”
You open your mouth before closing it. You should deny it– you want to deny it– but it’s the truth.
“Open the door.” His words leave no room for argument, for refusal; the threatening tone he takes on screams at you despite his soft volume.
As the hinge creaks, you’re greeted with him staring blankly at you in your doorway.
He doesn’t hesitate to reach out and touch you, his knuckles brushing against your face as he speaks. “I'm still your gege, you know. I look out for you, I love you so much- more than he ever did.
The sound of your hand hitting his face echoes in the empty apartment before you even register what you’ve done. You look away from him, pretending not to notice how he's straining against his jeans– already hard again.
“Caleb loved me,” you whisper, tears stinging your eyes.
When he crashes his mouth against yours, you squeeze your eyes shut, softly moaning at the feeling. His hand grips your jaw, tilting your head up as he sucks on your bottom lip. The taste of rotten apples lingers in your mouth as he breaks the kiss.
“Of course I do, mei mei,” He coos at you, red mark on his cheek in the shape of your palm as he pulls you into his chest.
Maybe this version of Caleb isn't all that different from your gege after all.
okay, but roommate!alex keller who swears to his friends he just sees you as his annoying little sister
18+ (smut)
cw: fem!reader, fauxcest, dubcon, mean!alex, age gap (reader is mid 20s, alex is mid 30s), kind of angry sex, tiny bit of humiliation, degradation, jealousy, borderline breeding kink, i think that covers it ?, word count: 1.5k
“No, no, it’s not like that, Garrick. I’m more like her big brother, right?” Your roommate laughs at his friend, who has his arm tossed over your shoulder as you all sit around the living room.
It stings- another bitter reminder that Alex Keller doesn’t feel for you what you do for him. Hell, even now, as he’s proudly showing you off to some of his military buddies, he's introducing you as his 'little sister'.
You can feel their eyes on you, your lips pursed tight as you nod.
The Scottish one– Johnny, you suddenly remember– leans in closer from his spot next to you on the couch. “So you're single, hen?” he asks, his bright blue eyes narrowed in on your form.
“Cut it out, MacTavish,” Alex scolds, glancing down at his phone before scurrying out of the room with a promise to return.
Something in the room shifts the second he’s gone. Their stares suddenly feel like a glowing red target on your body, as if you’re more prey than human to them now. It should scare you– but it doesn’t.
Kyle moves his hand from your shoulder to rest on your knee instead as he looks at you. “You didn’t answer Johnny’s question, love,” he points out.
“I’m single, yeah,” you whisper, heat creeping up the back of your neck at the attention the two men are showing you.
Really, can anyone blame you for entertaining their flirting?
Apparently, Alex can.
You don’t realize he’s back in the room, too focused on the large hands pawing at your inner thighs.
“For fucks sake, seriously, you two? My kid sister?” he grumbles, forcing the two men off the couch and settling down next to you.
They pay no mind to the comment, just smirking at each other as they move to the other sofa.
In the year you’ve lived with Alex, you’ve never once raised your voice at him– until now. “Don’t cockblock me, dickhead. And I’m not a fucking kid; they’re the same damn age as me!” you shriek.
“Don't let her fool you; she still sleeps with a nightlight,” he mocks, feeling a sick sense of pride when Johnny takes the bait and lets out a low chuckle.
Your hands ball into fists, a weak attempt to hit him foiled by his fingers wrapping around your wrist. He tugs at you, the two of you rolling onto the floor with him on top of you.
“I do not! You suck, Alex!” you screech, his friends watching in amusement as you struggle against his grip.
He's got your arms pinned against the floor, play-fighting with you the same way the pair of you have done a dozen times over.
You can't help the way your thighs shift, mouth dry as you frantically push against him. “Get off!” you shout, heart racing when he doesn’t budge. “Seriously, Alex, get off of me, you asshole!”
“I will. After you apologize properly.”
You know exactly what he wants to hear. “I'm sorry, big brother,” You grit the words out, sucking in a breath of air when he crawls off of you.
It's humiliating, not just the words but the way your sticky underwear clings to your cunt beneath your shorts. Based on the hungry eyes trailing down your lower half, it must be obvious to all the men in the room.
You storm off, the sound of their combined laughter ringing in your ears.
You don’t come back out for the rest of the evening– too mortified and enraged to want to see any of their faces again.
“What the hell was that?” Alex asks as he barges into your room.
Screeching, you pull your blanket up to cover your exposed legs. You’d foolishly decided to lounge in nothing but an oversized shirt, fully expecting to be left alone for the rest of the night.
As he continues to rant, you grab the nearest pillow and launch it at him, mildly disappointed when he dodges it. “It’s called flirting, maybe if you got any bitches you’d–”
“I should beat the shit out of them just for–”
“Oh my god, you’re so fucking dramatic. I wanted it, I wanted them! Do I need to go into fucking details, huh? Do you wanna know how wet I got at the thought of your friends fucking me like a–”
As the mattress dips with his weight, you realize you may have gone too far.
Your arms are pinned above your head again; the only real difference this time is that he doesn’t hide his hard cock, letting it press against your thigh. “Alex,” you whisper breathlessly.
He leans in closer to you until his lips are hovering over yours, waiting patiently until you make the first move. You tilt your head up as you press your mouth against his.
There’s no amount of alcohol you could consume that would make you feel as intoxicated as you’re getting from finally feeling his lips on yours after all this time of wanting.
Unintentionally breaking the kiss, you throw your head back when his palm rests against your cunt; the thin, damp, fabric clinging to his skin. “Been such a bad brother, haven't I? Didn't even realize how bad I've been neglecting your poor little cunny,” he coos.
“But if you were that needy, you should've come to me, baby. I don't ever wanna see you flirting with another man, all you need is your big brother's cock, yeah?”
Big brother. The words should make you feel disgusted with him, with yourself, but his fingers pull down your underwear, and it just feels so good.
“Alex, please, need you to fuck me. I won’t look at anyone else, only you– only my big brother, promise,” you babble, hips bucking against his hand as two slick covered fingers push into your dripping hole.
His fingers scissor inside you, stretching and spreading your walls as he prepares you for his cock.
You don’t whine when he pulls out, knowing the emptiness is only temporary; instead, you let your eyes trail down his body as he discards his clothes to the floor.
“It’s okay, big brother's got you, gonna make you feel so good,” he promises, slowly pushing into you until his full length is nestled inside your walls.
His hands grip your hips, and his head is buried in your neck. Your skin muffling his low groans as he thrusts into you like he's trying to mark every inch of your warm cunt as his.
If kissing Alex is intoxicating, then fucking him is an intangible high– a feeling no drug could ever replicate.
His pace is relentless as he fucks you, his mouth licking and sucking at your neck and chest– every inch of your exposed skin is fair game for him to mark.
“So close, gonna–” you choke on the words as his thumb presses down and circles your swollen clit. He doesn’t have to say it for you to know he is too, his thrusts quickly growing frantic.
Something instinctive in you takes over, your legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him in closer.
“Fuck, baby, you gotta– gotta let me go if you don’t want me to fill you up,” he pants, as he takes in your fucked out expression.
You look him in the eyes as you lock your ankles tight behind his back. “Please,” you beg, nails digging into his shoulders.
“That’s what you want? Want your big brother to cum inside your empty little cunny?”
The words make something snap inside you, your orgasm hitting you all at once as you clench down around him. Your mind’s too hazy to register the noises he’s making, too focused on the feeling of his sticky hot seed spilling inside you.
A mixture of your fluids drips down your thighs and onto the sheets as he pulls out of you. Grabbing his discarded shirt off the floor, he uses the soft material to wipe you clean before cutting off the light.
“Alex?” you whisper as he crawls into bed next to you.
“Mhm?” he mumbles, arm wrapped tight around your waist as he tries his best to stay awake.
Your eyes flicker around the dark room before looking back at him. “Can you turn on my nightlight?”
He blinks slowly, glancing over to the small plastic that sits plugged into the wall by your bedroom door. “Are you fucking with me?”
“No! I can’t sleep without it,” you admit, suddenly grateful that it’s too dark for you to see his teasing grin.
“Well, I can, so just close your–”
“Alex! Be a good big brother, please,” you beg, smiling softly when the bed creaks as he stands up. Your body relaxes when you see the dim light filling the room.
You rest your head against his chest as he rubs his hand up and down your back. “You’re lucky I love you,” he grumbles.
“I love you too, Alex. Best big brother I could ask for,” you say, pressing a chaste kiss to his bare skin. “Even when you’re an asshole,” you whisper.
He must have heard you anyway, his fingers pinching your ass in retaliation, and you can’t even hide your grin.
Especially when he’s an asshole– you correct yourself.
Everyone thinks you and kita are exhausted everyday because youre both workaholics. They'd whisper stuff like "hes working on the field all day what energy would he have to please them?". If kita was insecure, he might take some offense to that. But you and kita both try to hold back a laugh when you hear things like that because truthfully, kita has never let a long, tiring day on a field stop him from making sure you are taken care of. Youre both fucking exhausted because hes secretly a hungry,greedy man. "Just one more baby, okay? I prpmise". And its never just one more. And youre too high off of cumming to want to stop.
And that is why every morning, you walk around like zombies, putting on this facade that youre both dedicated to your job, but in reality, youre both replaying memories of last night and eager to recreated those moments the following night. Rinse and repeat.
cw: sub!fem!reader, dom!alex, cnc (reader says stop, no, & denies it but is into it), daddy kink, cum licking & eating, spit, choking, i think that's it ?, word count: 703
Alex can’t help but find it adorable, really– how infatuated you are with his tattoos. Your fingers always trace the ink when he's got an arm wrapped around your waist.
The way your eyes always drift towards the patterns on his skin when he's got his hand on the headboard while he’s drilling his cock into you.
You try to deny it– always blushing and coming up with excuses– but he knows you better than that. All it takes is seeing a flash of the ink, and you’re a dripping mess.
It paints a pretty picture in his head of his tattoos covered in a mix of your slick and cum. He knows that’s what you’re thinking about– even if you’ll never admit it.
He’s got a hand on your hip, guiding you to lazily grind your bare cunt against his forearm. The dark look in his eyes warns you not to look away from him– refusing to let you hide your embarrassment.
A warm feeling takes over your body, a mixture of humiliation and pure desire washing over you. “Daddy, stop!”
“C'mon, baby, I know this was what you wanted,” he coos, lips trailing down your neck.
“Didn’t– mmm– say that,” you pant, shivering as your swollen clit brushes against his skin.
His mouth crashes against yours, his tongue darting past your lips as he spits into your eager mouth.
He pulls away with a grin as you swallow, your eyes hazy and begging for more. “Didn’t have to. What kind of daddy would I be if I didn’t know what my sweet girl needs?”
The steady pace he once kept is gone, your hips now erratically rubbing against him. He squeezes your hip so tight you’re sure it’ll be bruised soon. Soft and needy moans leave your mouth as you feel that familiar knot form in your stomach.
“Stop, Daddy, stop ‘s too much.”
He chuckles, shaking his head at you as he continues to force you to hump his arm. “You can take it, baby.”
His words push you over the edge, your body collapsing against him the second you cum.
He gives you a smirk, lifting his arm so you can see the shiny white standing out against the black ink on his skin.
His other hand squeezes your tit, thumb brushing over your nipple as he watches your face. “Can feel how fast your heart’s beating, you really liked that, didn’t you, baby?” he coos, his hand trailing up your body.
“No, no, didn’t it– tha’s weird,” you lie. The words are slurred and hardly coherent as you stare at the cum covered ink on his skin.
“Right,” he sighs, his fingers squeezing at the nape of your neck– not a warning, but a promise. “Well, either way, you made a mess. Now, be a good girl and clean it up.”
He shoves your face against his arm, forcing you to open your jaw. Your tongue laps at his skin, tasting yourself as you lick up your own slick.
“Don’t swallow yet.” He doesn’t have to repeat himself, watching as you let a mixture of your drool and cum fill up your mouth.
The tattoo’s clean of white now; your spit is the only thing reflecting against the ink.
You look at him, eyes wide and mouth open as you show him what you’ve gathered up.
His fingers push past your lips, brushing against your tongue as he coats them in the mixture of fluids. He doesn’t hesitate to lick them clean, chuckling when your thighs clench at the sight.
Spit falls down your lips, your jaw threatening to ache from the position you’re holding. His hand wraps around your throat, the pressure making you moan– more drool spills out of your mouth.
“Good girl, now swallow.”
You do so without thinking twice, feeling him squeeze your neck tight as it slides down the back of your throat. He keeps his hand there for a moment, watching your blissed-out expression before finally letting go.
You’re breathless, your body going limp against him as you struggle to stay awake. Just as your eyes start to flutter, his hand taps at your cheek.
Lazy morning sex and domestic life with Kita. 900 words.
Waking up to Shinsuke licking at your cunt. The sun has fully risen, which tells you he's in bed later than usual. Your mind is hazy with sleep and arousal so it takes you a moment to realize it must be a Sunday he can spend off the farm.
It's not long before you're reaching your peak, rocking your hips as his tongue flutters inside you, his thumb rubbing your clit. He doesnt slow down as you try to ride out your orgasm, and its clear he's not stopping at one. You expected as much, considering he couldn't even wait for you to wake up. His head stays between your legs, coaxing out a second orgasm before his middle finger finally slides into you, despite your earnest begging for more.
He's relentless as he strokes upwards, until you're trembling so hard your thighs ache, warning him of the mess you're about to make. Your warnings only encourage him, and he leans back to see you fully before you gush around his fingers. You expect him to stroke himself over your stomach or to fill your mouth. But instead, you feel his hard, flushed cock tapping your swollen clit. Your answering protests are weak and half hearted, but you feel like you should ask for a break, even if you don't actually want one. He knows your body, feels you legs twitch as you fight the urge to lock your ankles behind him, and so he slips in, filling you in one agonizingly slow thrust. You dont understand how he can be so patient, when you've already cum three times and feel like you'll die if he doesnt fuck you immediately.
His movements start slow, but it's not long before he's thrusting with enough speed and force to shift your entire body up the bed. He holds you by your hips, first to keep you in place, then to pull you to meet his thrusts. It's too early in the day for your room to be echoing your moans, the slapping of hips meeting, the wet sounds of your overused pussy, but you cant find it in yourself to mind. Shinsuke spills inside of you with a deep groan in your ear and warm breaths against your collar.
You expect him to doze off for a bit, still inside you, but he pulls out too soon after, leaving a puddle of spend to drip onto the sheets, joining the soaking wet mess from earlier. You clench instinctively but you can feel it just pushing out more, so you accept defeat and wait for Shinsuke to return with a warm cloth. Your most sensitive area is wiped gently with the softest cloth he could find, but surprisingly, your inner thighs are wiped with the sheets.
Shinsuke kisses your forehead with a gentleness that's been missing all morning, and tells you "C'mon. It's laundry day." You see him toss the cloth in an admittedly full laundry basket.
He pulls you to sit up, as if your legs aren't still shaking, as if the new position doesn't have the remainder of his cum seeping onto the sheets. He's nice enough to start the shower (but not nice enough to draw a bath) before he carries you to the bathroom. He joins you in the shower, as slways, but he doesnt take the usual time to clean up your bed before. Instead, he hops under the hot shower spray immediately, letting you lean on him as you slowly regain feeling in your limbs.
When you exit the bathroom, dressed in faded house clothes (with Shinsuke's help), your face heats up at the state of your sheets. Drool and tears mark your pillow, a large stain soaks the sheets with droplets of pearlescent cum decorating the puddle. Shinsuke usually cleans up after - you can't even remember the last time you saw evidence of your sex besides the marks left on your body. Your mortified staring is broken by hands on your waist and a whispered "We should probably start with the bedding, hm?"
You avoid looking at him - or the bed, for that matter - the whole time you strip the linens. At one point, you regret looking away because the shock of grabbing a handful of cold, damp fabric makes you gasp as you ball up the sheets. You didn't know you were capable of making such a mess. You wonder if it's always like this, if this is what Shinsuke deals with during those first few minutes you often wait for him in the bath.
The rest of laundry day goes as usual. You find a few pairs of your underwear with stains you didn't leave, and Shinsuke finds shirts with your own marks. Teasing glances are exchanged, but the heat behind your looks are mild in comparison to this morning.
The evening ends with you flopping onto fresh linens, eyes closed, ready to sleep or at the very least relax. But you feel the bed dip as Shinsuke crawls over you. His lips find yours, your neck, your collarbone, traveling further down until you groan - equal parts arousal and frustration - as you say "We just finished the laundry."
He replies "Another load won't hurt" and you roll your eyes at the cheap innuendo, until his fingers tangle in your hair and your eyes roll for an entirely different reason.
Planning to wake kita up with a blow job to start his birthday celebrations, but instead you wake up to him eating your pussy like a starved man. He's not slow, he's not careful. He's got his tongue as deep as it can reach and his drool is dripping down his chin. When he sees you're awake, he switches the focus to your clit. Telling him you wanted to surprise him, not the other way around. He barely pulls away enough to say "Yeah? Were you thinking about it when you went to bed? Did you dream about it? You were wet before I even started. Couldn't help but open my present early"
baratheonpilled
stormborns
jacobvanloon
yousharknotpass
2087
