yeah that song

“No exit, 벗어날 수 없어, no worries, 걱정은 없어” - No Doubt • ENHYPEN

[kixtkaxt]

x-o, x-o, kiss me, don’t say no

kixtkaxt • cancer • esfp • kpop enthusiast

~ Stray Kids • Seungmin ~

~ ENHYPEN • Jungwon ~

~ Tomorrow X Together • Beomgyu ~

anime • kpop • manga • music

reblogs - mbti matches - crack - q&a - music

fyi ~ i don’t post drabbles or fanfics unfortunately :( but i will match u up with ur mbti and (maybe) ur star sign

[joyracha]

tequila sunrise

being a travel blogger has its perks; you get to travel the world, eat delicious food, and…dance with a mysterious, handsome stranger on a cruise?

pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader genre: fluff, smut content: oral sex (f + m receiving), fingering, coming untouched, unprotected sex (p in v), choking, a mirror is involved word count: 5.2k a/n: i'm so sorry for being late! thank you for your patience with me pls enjoy this reader simping for hyunjin and him being the beautiful man that he is ♡ ♡ m.list

a wet hot skz summer event masterlist ☼ schedule

The words you choose to live by are as follows: do something worth writing, then write something worth reading. And that’s exactly what you’ve been doing for the past four years. You have, arguably, one of the best jobs in the entire world. As a travel blogger for a major publication, your sole purpose in life is to see the world and write about it, and hopefully inspire others to see it too.

The breeze on the top deck feels warm as it hits your face, and the smell of the fresh salty air makes you feel hopeful for the rest of your trip. You’ve scored a trip on the Starlost for this assignment, the cruise line’s latest and most luxurious ship. Your company has given you a full suite with an ocean view, and they prefer that the readers have the inside scoop on the ultimate experience.

You pull out your phone and take a few shots of the view. The ship is huge—you’re honestly not sure if you’ll have enough time to explore everything in the next five days, but you’re determined to try.

After spending some time wandering the ship and mentally cataloguing all of the places you’d like to visit, you decide to check out one of the ship’s main attractions. It’s the perfect time, right as the sun is going down, and all of the families with young children head to bed.

Club Miroh is the hot spot of the cruise line for young adults, according to the information pamphlet you read when you got your assignment. The lights are dim and brightly colored, and the bass booms through the speakers. 

You sit at the bar, scanning the young crowd. You take a couple of photos of the atmosphere, hoping to convey the youthful and fun vibe to your audience. Maybe in the beginning you’d dance with a few strangers or chat it up with the bartender, but people watching was a hobby you slowly picked up and enjoyed far more.

A couple makes their way to the dance floor, and you imagine what their life must be like. Maybe they left the kids at home, determined to spend quality time together and go on adventures while they’re still young. Or maybe they just met tonight, two singles just looking for a night of fun.

“A tequila sunrise for the lady?” The bartender’s voice cuts through the music as he sets down the orange and yellow drink in front of you.

“Oh, I didn’t order that…,” your voice trails off as you shake your head.

“Ah, the gentleman over there sent it over.” He gestures to the other side of the bar to a man seated alone. You look over at the man and see him hunched over the bar, drinking a dark liquor out of his glass. Eyes trained directly at you.

He’s very handsome. No, scratch that, he’s gorgeous. His long black hair is slicked back, and he’s wearing a dark button-up and jeans that are probably worth your entire paycheck.

You tip your glass to him before taking a sip as a thank you. He lifts his own glass in return, a sly smirk appearing on his face. Before you know it, he’s sliding into the stool next to you.

“Hyunjin,” he says as he introduces himself, his voice low and sultry. It’s not often that a stranger leaves you speechless by looks alone, but he definitely does.

Other than your obvious nervousness, the conversation flows quite well. He’s an artist from Korea, and also flying solo on this cruise. You don’t ask why, whether he had someone he was supposed to come with, or if this was his plan all along.

It’s a quarter to midnight when he leans in close, the spice of his cologne filling your nostrils, and whispers in your ear, “Come dance with me.”

The floors vibrate as you step onto the dance floor, guided by Hyunjin. The flashing lights reflect on every nearby surface and illuminate the crowd. You sidestep a couple of drunken passengers, leaning into Hyunjin for support. He smiles at you as he lets you hold onto him.

He takes your hand and starts to move to the beat. You’re not the greatest dancer, but you try your best to loosen up. You accidentally step on his foot, and you look up at his face in horror as you profusely apologize. But he just laughs it off. His laughter is contagious, and for the first time this trip, nothing exists beyond this moment.

He leans in close and says the words you’ve been waiting to hear all night.

“You wanna get out of here?”

You’re no stranger to a hookup in international waters. It’s not exactly a common occurrence, but it does happen. You just skip over that part of the night when you go back to write about it the next day, your boss never the wiser.

Your back hits the door as it locks, Hyunjin’s lips attacking yours once you’re both alone. His hands held your hips firmly as he rolled his into yours. You can feel his cock straining through his pants, eager to be free.

He peels you off the door and guides you to the bed. Your knees hit the edge, and the two of you topple over onto it.

His hands move from your waist to your thighs, hiking your dress up. He moves his mouth to your neck, kissing and nipping up the side. Your hands are busy tugging at his clothes and his belt all at the same time.

He steps back to unbutton and snatch his shirt off, then undoes his belt and jeans with one hand while leaning over you. He is so fucking sexy, you almost wish you had gotten to know him a bit better before doing this.

You pull him closer with your legs, craving his touch. He hikes your dress even higher, and dips his head even lower, leaving a trail of soft kisses along your belly just above your waistline.

“Fuck, Hyunjin—please,” you plead, raking your hands through his gelled-up hair.

He doesn’t reply, he just kneels on the floor in front of the bed. He slides your lacy black panties down before spreading your thighs wide. His fingers part your folds, giving him a perfect view of your cunt. And then, he lets a string of spit fall directly on your clit.

He’s playing with his food. That’s how you feel anyway, not that you’re complaining. You let out a whine, partially from impatience but mostly because you can’t believe he’s so hot and a little freaky. Then, finally, you let out a noise that sounds like somewhat of a cross between a sigh and a moan once his tongue finally touches you. 

The man eats like he’s in a desert, and your juices are the only thing that can quench his thirst. His tongue is long, reaching in spots you didn’t even know existed. He leaves long licks from your entrance to your clit, savoring every drop you give him.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” he hums, sucking your juices up.

He uses his thumb to trace your folds, taking note of what makes you squirm so that he can do it again. It’s not long before he’s pressing two fingers inside of you, curling them just the right way to make you see stars.

“Fuck—keep going, I’m gonna come,” you cry.

“That’s the goal, sweetheart.” He’s smug, which makes him hotter. You want to roll your eyes from annoyance, but they end up rolling for entirely different reasons.

He picks up his pace, fucking you with his fingers while his tongue circles your clit. Your cunt is making the juiciest sounds, and he’s eating all of it up. He’s rutting against the side of the bed, chasing friction for himself, making the bed squeak under the two of you. 

He’s intense, but not in an overstimulating way. Everything he does is just perfect. You thank the stars in your head because not once have you had to give him instructions, a rarity these days. You’re straining to keep your orgasm back, wanting to feel this for as long as possible.

“Come on, give it to me,” he says, and you can’t hold it back any longer. 

Your orgasm crashes over you, hard, and you cry out in pleasure. Your cunt pulses around his fingers, and your thighs latch on the sides of his head as he coaxes you through it, slowing his movements down gradually. Your legs are still shaking by the time he leans down to plant a kiss over your clit.

“Holy shit,” you say, because they’re the only words you can think of after having the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life.

He stands up to lean over you, wiping your juices on the back of his hand before leaning down for a kiss. You reach for his waist and start to pull his boxers down when he stops you, grabbing your wrist.

You look at his eyes, waiting for an explanation.

“You don’t need to—,”

“I want to.” God, what you wouldn’t give to have this man’s dick inside of you.

“No, it’s not that. It’s—I, um…I already came.”

You blink at him. He stands up straighter to show you, and sure enough, you look down and see a wide wet patch on the front of his boxers. Your brain doesn’t compute because it’s the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever seen.

“I, uh, tend to get off on other people’s pleasure more…” His voice trails off as he explains himself. 

You think about getting down on one knee, right then and there. 

“I hear there’s a chapel on the ship,” you joke.

He laughs, trying to hide the blush that’s forming on his face. “You trying to make an honest man out of me already?”

“After that—absolutely,” you chuckle, still coming down from your high. “But I’ll buy you dinner first.”

“How about a shower first?”

The water runs off your back as you watch him lather himself up. You were expecting this to be more awkward, or maybe he’d want to bolt right after. But his lingering presence felt more comforting than you’d expected.

You almost invite him to spend the night, before stopping yourself. He’s a stranger that you just met, maybe he has other plans, other people he wants to see. You don’t insist when he goes to leave.

“I’ll see you around, I hope,” he says as he’s getting dressed. And you really, really hope you do, too.

He excuses himself from your room, and the silence fills the cabin with the click of the lock. You feel a smile creep across your face before you can stop it. This trip is going to be one for the books, you can already tell.

The pool deck is crowded when you arrive shortly after lunch. The sun is especially hot today, given the lack of trees and buildings to provide shade while at sea. Still, you strap your bikini on and find a quieter corner to sunbathe in while dipping your toes in the pool. You throw your head back, soaking up the sunlight, and relax.

“Is this seat taken?” A voice breaks through your thoughts and startles you.

You open your eyes to a man you don’t recognize. He’s on the shorter side, and he could definitely use some sunscreen, judging by the bright red that coats his skin. He’s really, really not your type.

He sits down next to you before you have the chance to protest. At first, he sits way too close, so you scoot out of his way, putting as much distance between the two of you as possible. You’re polite, nodding your head to whatever he’s saying, which is a long-winded speech about how fascinating cruise ships are. 

It’s boring. Mind-numbingly boring, and this man is not attractive enough for you to pretend to be interested.  You should really leave. You’re not interested, and you don’t want to waste the man’s time, or yours, any longer than necessary.

“I should go—,”

“Wait wait, one more thing—,”

“Darling?” you hear as a familiar figure approaches from your peripheral vision.

Hyunjin. He looks down at the two of you, loose tank top, dark swim trunks, and sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose. You can’t help but beam as he sits down.

“Hi, honey,” you say sweetly, leaning into his shoulder. “This gentleman was just telling me about…sorry, what was it about boats?”

“It was cruise ships, and never mind, you’re clearly not interested.”

He gets up before you can give him a polite goodbye, which is probably for the best. Maybe you should have said something sooner, but the look on that man’s face when Hyunjin sat down was priceless.

What are you even thinking? He probably just saw you from across the way, noticed the uninterested look on your face, and decided to step in to save you from embarrassment. He’s not yours, he’s just a nice guy.

“Thank you,” you stifle a laugh as the man walks out of view. “I had no idea what he was talking about.”

“You looked like you were in trouble,” he says with a smile. “And like you needed a refill.”

He places a cold glass into your hand, the same pinkish orange drink you’d sipped on the previous night.

“Another one?” you ask, playfully. “Careful, or I might start thinking you like me.”

“I do,” he says plainly. “You like me, too.” He laughs as he finishes his drink. You feel a flutter in your stomach, like he knows exactly what you want to hear. 

“Says who?” you ask, eyebrow raised. You definitely like him, but you’re not about to give him the satisfaction just yet. 

“Says God. I went to the chapel and asked him myself.”

“There is not a chapel on board,” you laugh, snorting a bit. “I made that up.”

“There is. I just went.” His straight, convincing face makes you laugh harder.

“You’re very humble, you know that?” you tease, pushing his shoulder a bit. 

“You love it,” he winks, and your heart does a stupid little flip. To your surprise, he excuses himself, stands up, and leaves you to finish your drink and sunbathe alone. He disappears into the crowd of people, and you’re still smiling to yourself. 

You want to ask him out, maybe to dinner at your next port, but you decide against it. You like him a bit too much, you think, and it’s easier not to let yourself have something if it’s just going to be ripped away from you in the end. Korea’s far, after all.

You go to bed that night wondering what it might feel like to fall asleep next to him.

Who are you to deny yourself the finer things in life? That’s the question you ask yourself as you’re pacing back and forth in your suite, getting ready for the evening.

Maybe Korea is too far. Maybe it’s too far for anything serious, but this is a vacation. It’s five days of living your life to the fullest so you can go back and tell everyone how cool the world is. And living your life to the fullest means asking out the man who made you see stars and not caring where it ends up.

You check yourself in the mirror. It’s a beach port, and you’re hoping to spend most of the day relaxing in the sand and swimming in the ocean. Your swimsuit shows off your body, and your coverup leaves little to the imagination—exactly how you want it.

Making stops in different countries is one of your favorite parts of a cruise. It’s fun to see the beaches, the different towns, and maybe do a fun activity or two while you’re there. The locals are always helpful, pointing out the best restaurants and the places you must see.

But today you have a different mission.

You spot him hunched over the beach bar, laughing with the bartender. He notices you almost immediately, his smile wide as he waves you over. His hair is wavier today, curling at the ends. It’s fluffy, and you have to resist the urge to find out if it’s as soft as it looks.

He orders you the same drink he’s ordered for you the past few days, before leaning in close. “I want to show you something.”

You follow him down the beach, drink in one hand and your sandals in the other, before you reach an area where the beach curves inland. It’s more secluded, away from the big crowds, and the water looks calmer.

“I swear it looks bluer from this side,” he says, sitting down in the sand. You’re close enough to the water to see the bubbles from the waves, but far enough so you won’t get wet. The sight is beautiful, with the sun starting to go down, and the colors in the sky complement the ocean well.

“Why tequila sunrises?” you ask him as you look down at your drink, taking a sip.

He glances at the glass, then shrugs his shoulders. “You didn’t complain the first time.”

You huff out a laugh. “So you’ve just decided that’s my drink forever?”

“Until proven otherwise.”

“What if I wanted something else?”

His lips curve into a smile. “You’d tell me.”

It’s not a romantic answer, but something about the simplicity of it makes your heart warm. The suggestion that if you wanted something different, all you had to do was ask and he would oblige has the butterflies in your stomach going wild.

The conversation begins to dwindle as the sun sets. You look beside you, and Hyunjin isn’t looking at the sunset anymore. He has a book in his lap and is delicately flipping through the pages.

“What’s that?” you ask, gesturing to the pad of paper in his lap.

“A sketchbook.”

“Oh yeah, you’re an artist. What do you draw?”

He flips through the notebook and shows you tons of tiny sketches of different figures. A man holding a child’s hand on the beach. A couple leaned against the railing, staring fondly at each other. A woman quietly reading a book in a corner.

They’re all people. Different kinds of people, from all over the world. 

“They’re my muses.”

It’s beautiful. Not just the drawings, but the craft itself. The skill it takes to see something and then draw it out on paper, the patience it takes to make sure the lines are all right, the passion and the will to want it to get it right—it’s all so inspiring.

He has such a beautiful view of life. And not only life, but the people who make up the world you live in. 

“Can I do one?” you ask. You may not be an artist or really the best at drawing in general, but you recognize the art and the beauty behind it and want to give it a go.

He flips the book to a fresh page and hands it to you along with a pen. You look around the beach at all the people, and decide there is only one person worthy of drawing.

You turn your body to face him confidently, staring at the features on his face. He gets the hint and poses with a hand on his chin and a big smile on his face. His cheeks are all bunched up, and his eyes are squeezed shut. The sight of him makes you laugh. He looks a bit ridiculous, but it fills you with a warmth you find hard to describe.

“Sit still,” you say after a couple of minutes of silence. Your lines are jagged because you can’t stop laughing, and the light is getting lower as the sun goes down. You hope that he doesn’t judge your awful drawing, but there’s nothing you’d change about this moment.

“You look cute when you’re concentrated.”

“Shhhh! I’m working.” He barks out a laugh.

It’s hard to concentrate when every time you look up, he’s staring at you. There’s a certain glint in his eyes that makes your heart skip.

“Done,” you finally announce. 

He scoots back towards you to get a closer look. You hand him the sketchbook to show him, and he bursts out into laughter.

“It’s not that bad!” you argue, crossing your arms in defense.

“No, no, no. It’s beautiful.”

It’s objectively terrible. His eyes are uneven as hell, his nose is crooked, and his hair….you’re not even sure you gave him enough hair. And you forgot about his ears.

“It doesn’t even look like you,” you say, pouting a bit. You did try really hard, but it’s just not your thing.

“Well, I love it anyway.” 

He’s so much softer than you first thought. You admire so much about him, from the way he carries himself to his outlook on life and how he views the people around him, even strangers. 

You don’t even realize that your eyes are locked on his until he starts to lean in closer. Your lips meet, much softer than the first. He brings a hand to your cheek, caressing you gently. You tilt your head to deepen the kiss, and he follows. You swear the only thing missing is fireworks behind your head.

“We have to get back on the ship,” he pulls back to whisper. “Come to my suite.” 

You nod, and he helps you to your feet, brushing sand off both of you before walking back onto the dock.

His suite is massive—on the top level of this side of the ship, with a beautiful ocean view. The king-size bed sits perfectly in the middle of the space, and there’s even a fireplace. Your company would have never put you up in a place like this.

“Wow,” you say, gaping at the room. “How successful of an artist are you?”

Maybe the question is in poor taste, but when he said artist, you assumed it was a “starving artist” kind of vibe. Not this.

But he laughs it off. “A couple of my paintings sold at a charity auction not long ago.”

Successful enough to have paintings sell at an auction, apparently. Wealth isn’t something you’d normally care about, but being successful at doing something you love is so hot.

There’s no point in dancing around it anymore. You want him badly. A grin spreads across your face as you pull him towards the bed. The nerves flutter in your stomach as you lie down, guiding him on top of you.

He kisses you with a burning passion, like you might never see each other again after tonight. He moves down from your mouth, kissing along your jawline. You thread your fingers through his hair and let out a small gasp when you look up.

There’s a mirror on the ceiling. A gigantic mirror, right above the bed. You can tell whoever designed the space tried to be fancy, adding some kind of etching details on it. Quite a choice for a cruise line, but maybe a bit exciting nonetheless.

He looks up at you when he hears you, and follows where you’re looking before bursting out in laughter.

“I’ll be honest, I had no idea that would be there when I booked this.”

“It’s kind of hot though,” you reply. He looks at you with wide eyes for a moment before going back to kissing you.

You’re barely wearing anything for him to take off, but something about him carefully untying your bikini strings sends your head spinning.

He works his way down from your neck to your chest, before kneading at your breasts and taking one in his mouth. He moves his tongue around your nipple before sucking gently, and you let out a moan when he lets go with a pop.

“I love it when you make that sound,” he sighs, taking your other breast into his mouth.

You tug on his tank top, signaling him to take it off. He peels it off his back and tosses it on the floor somewhere. He reaches down between the two of you and tugs your bottoms lower, sliding them off to join the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Your legs part for him instantly, and you can already tell you’re soaked. He sucks at your neck at the same time he dips his hand between your legs, and collects some of your juices before bringing it up to his lips for a taste.

“You taste so good,” he whispers in your ear.

“Let me taste you, too,” you say softly. You reach down to palm him through his shorts, and he lets out a moan into your ear. 

You push him back gently, feeling up his toned torso and pressing your lips to his neck. He still smells good after a day at the beach. You suck at the spot just above his collarbone before you work your way down to his chest, leaving a trail of kisses as you go.

“Leave as many marks as you want,” he says gently, combing his fingers through your hair. Something possessive inside you triggers, and you leave several bruises down his torso.

You reach his sharp V line and pause for a moment, untying the strings on his swim trunks and sliding them down slowly, licking your lips. His hardened dick hits his torso with a heavy thump. He’s gifted in more ways than one, to say the least.

You start by licking a slow stripe up his shaft before you chicken out, earning you a moan from him.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” he says, voice low as he slides his hand through your hair to pull it out of the way. “You look so pretty on your knees for me.”

His words embolden you as you drag your tongue up his length again, slower, before swirling it around the head of his cock. The taste of his precum hits your mouth, making you hum around it.

“Fuck, just like that,” he says, grip tightening in your hair. He tries to keep from bucking into your mouth too soon, letting you set the pace.

You take him in slowly, relaxing your throat and letting him sink all the way in. Your head bobs up and down, your hand stroking at the base of what you can’t fit.

“Shit, your mouth feels incredible,” he groans. “Look at me, I want to see those pretty eyes.”

You glance up at him through your lashes, hollowing your cheeks as you take him deeper. His moans are getting louder, and he can’t stop his hips from bucking up into you.

“Fuck, come here,” he says, guiding you off of him slowly. “I’ll come right now if you keep looking at me like that.”

You crawl your way back up his body, licking the salty taste of his precum from your lips. He pulls you in for a kiss, and you grind down against him, the skin-on-skin contact driving you wild.

“I need you inside me,” you gasp between kisses. “Please.”

He flips the two of you around, and you giggle as your back hits the mattress. You pull him in for another kiss before inhaling sharply as he dips his hand between your legs.

“Tasting me really got you goin’, huh?” he teases, slowly running his fingers through your folds. 

“Fuck—Hyunjin, please, I need you.” You’re not ashamed to beg for him, hoping your desperation turns him on.

“I got you, baby, just wanna make sure you can take all of me.”

The stretch burns as he nudges the head of his cock inside. Your legs wrap around his legs instinctively, pulling him closer. The two of you let out a chorus of moans as he sinks in deeper, much too slow for your liking.

“Holy—fuck, you’re so tight,” he hisses in your ear, hand gripping your hip hard.

He slams in the rest of the way until he’s buried to the hilt. The fullness is overwhelming in the best way. You look up at the ceiling, the visual of him fucking you makes your head spin.

“You gonna watch while I ruin you?” he grunts in your ear as he starts to move. 

You can’t even bring yourself to respond, the feeling of him sliding against your walls makes your brain fuzzy.

“Harder,” you manage to get out.

“Yeah? You want it rough?” He brings a hand to your throat, squeezing the sides gently. The circulation being cut off sends your eyes rolling into the back of your skull.

He sets a punishing pace as you watch the reflection of him fucking you. The sounds of skin on skin clapping together fill the room, mixed with his grunts and your moans.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans, slowing to kiss your temple. “Fucking made for me.”

Your cunt clenches around him at his words. “I’m yours,” you mutter out as he picks up his pace again.

“Come for me, baby. I’ve got you.” He moves his hand from your hip and slides it between you, rubbing quick circles on your clit. At the same time, he gives your throat a light squeeze. His thrusts get sloppier as he gets closer to his own release. 

The combination sends you over the edge. You see stars, and you cry out his name as your orgasm hits you hard. Hyunjin follows right after you with a deep moan, burying himself deep as his cock pulses inside you.

He stays inside for a long moment, letting you both catch your breath. He leans down to wipe loose strands of hair from your face and press a soft kiss to your lips.

Your mind starts to race when he pulls out to get a clean towel for the two of you. You really, really like him, and the idea of flying home and never seeing him again feels like a punch to the gut.

Hyunjin opens the balcony door to let fresh air in before lying down next to you. Neither of you speaks for a long while, just cuddled up in each other’s arms, tracing lazy patterns over each other’s skin.  

“Korea’s too far,” you mumble, the sadness evident in your voice.

His hand stills for a moment before he lets out a long sigh. “Yeah, it is.” He smiles down at you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

It’s too good to be true, too perfect to keep. You want to bottle up these small moments you’ve had together and hold them close forever. 

“I have an idea,” he says. “What if we book this same cruise next year? Same dates, same place, same ship. I’ll even book the same room so we can have the mirror again.”

You laugh, giving him a playful slap on the arm. But you look up at him and nod your head. “I think I like that.”

“We don’t have to figure everything out tonight. But maybe we can have this again. Maybe a little more next time.”

You bring his jaw closer to yours, kissing him slowly.

“Deal.”

a/n: ahhh thank you for your patience my life has been crazy! sorry if this one feels rushed! please let me know if you liked i've been going back and forth about it all week ahaha ♡

permanent taglist: @11racha @jisuperboard @kloversung @sourtae @binniebb @b4echo @hanjinology @lynsbng @eyyyylucieeee @bbyyuuu @viisstrayy @starlostjisung @stryscribbles @miniseungkimcami @embobema @sssoulesss @awkwardlyshawna @fuzzylard @0omillo0

event taglist: @fatbitchgeek-blog @skzcodered @kloversung @viisstrayy @starjely @channlust @lynsbng @mxmx09 @clingy-ass-bitch @taekwondoe @embobema @sage-burrow @tonkshamsandwich @starlostjisung @fauxontherun @jup-exe @b4echo @madaboutminho @skzhotpot @tsumiyaa @felixstarz @deffnot-ramiyah @onthesynth @bleepracha @poody1608 @angellixmar @avchannie @ykikleekn0w @wolfchan4life234 @majessticallyme @cchapssaltteok @yessirfelix @geni-627 @monainthemoon @lorerambles @mikachux3 @hanstattoos @angelchannieeee

[applepilvrr]

texts with pilot!nanami x flight attendant reader ༄*ੈ✩

note : based off this request!

masterlist

[joyracha]

tequila sunrise

being a travel blogger has its perks; you get to travel the world, eat delicious food, and…dance with a mysterious, handsome stranger on a cruise?

pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader genre: fluff, smut content: oral sex (f + m receiving), fingering, coming untouched, unprotected sex (p in v), choking, a mirror is involved word count: 5.2k a/n: i'm so sorry for being late! thank you for your patience with me pls enjoy this reader simping for hyunjin and him being the beautiful man that he is ♡ ♡ m.list

a wet hot skz summer event masterlist ☼ schedule

The words you choose to live by are as follows: do something worth writing, then write something worth reading. And that’s exactly what you’ve been doing for the past four years. You have, arguably, one of the best jobs in the entire world. As a travel blogger for a major publication, your sole purpose in life is to see the world and write about it, and hopefully inspire others to see it too.

The breeze on the top deck feels warm as it hits your face, and the smell of the fresh salty air makes you feel hopeful for the rest of your trip. You’ve scored a trip on the Starlost for this assignment, the cruise line’s latest and most luxurious ship. Your company has given you a full suite with an ocean view, and they prefer that the readers have the inside scoop on the ultimate experience.

You pull out your phone and take a few shots of the view. The ship is huge—you’re honestly not sure if you’ll have enough time to explore everything in the next five days, but you’re determined to try.

After spending some time wandering the ship and mentally cataloguing all of the places you’d like to visit, you decide to check out one of the ship’s main attractions. It’s the perfect time, right as the sun is going down, and all of the families with young children head to bed.

Club Miroh is the hot spot of the cruise line for young adults, according to the information pamphlet you read when you got your assignment. The lights are dim and brightly colored, and the bass booms through the speakers. 

You sit at the bar, scanning the young crowd. You take a couple of photos of the atmosphere, hoping to convey the youthful and fun vibe to your audience. Maybe in the beginning you’d dance with a few strangers or chat it up with the bartender, but people watching was a hobby you slowly picked up and enjoyed far more.

A couple makes their way to the dance floor, and you imagine what their life must be like. Maybe they left the kids at home, determined to spend quality time together and go on adventures while they’re still young. Or maybe they just met tonight, two singles just looking for a night of fun.

“A tequila sunrise for the lady?” The bartender’s voice cuts through the music as he sets down the orange and yellow drink in front of you.

“Oh, I didn’t order that…,” your voice trails off as you shake your head.

“Ah, the gentleman over there sent it over.” He gestures to the other side of the bar to a man seated alone. You look over at the man and see him hunched over the bar, drinking a dark liquor out of his glass. Eyes trained directly at you.

He’s very handsome. No, scratch that, he’s gorgeous. His long black hair is slicked back, and he’s wearing a dark button-up and jeans that are probably worth your entire paycheck.

You tip your glass to him before taking a sip as a thank you. He lifts his own glass in return, a sly smirk appearing on his face. Before you know it, he’s sliding into the stool next to you.

“Hyunjin,” he says as he introduces himself, his voice low and sultry. It’s not often that a stranger leaves you speechless by looks alone, but he definitely does.

Other than your obvious nervousness, the conversation flows quite well. He’s an artist from Korea, and also flying solo on this cruise. You don’t ask why, whether he had someone he was supposed to come with, or if this was his plan all along.

It’s a quarter to midnight when he leans in close, the spice of his cologne filling your nostrils, and whispers in your ear, “Come dance with me.”

The floors vibrate as you step onto the dance floor, guided by Hyunjin. The flashing lights reflect on every nearby surface and illuminate the crowd. You sidestep a couple of drunken passengers, leaning into Hyunjin for support. He smiles at you as he lets you hold onto him.

He takes your hand and starts to move to the beat. You’re not the greatest dancer, but you try your best to loosen up. You accidentally step on his foot, and you look up at his face in horror as you profusely apologize. But he just laughs it off. His laughter is contagious, and for the first time this trip, nothing exists beyond this moment.

He leans in close and says the words you’ve been waiting to hear all night.

“You wanna get out of here?”

You’re no stranger to a hookup in international waters. It’s not exactly a common occurrence, but it does happen. You just skip over that part of the night when you go back to write about it the next day, your boss never the wiser.

Your back hits the door as it locks, Hyunjin’s lips attacking yours once you’re both alone. His hands held your hips firmly as he rolled his into yours. You can feel his cock straining through his pants, eager to be free.

He peels you off the door and guides you to the bed. Your knees hit the edge, and the two of you topple over onto it.

His hands move from your waist to your thighs, hiking your dress up. He moves his mouth to your neck, kissing and nipping up the side. Your hands are busy tugging at his clothes and his belt all at the same time.

He steps back to unbutton and snatch his shirt off, then undoes his belt and jeans with one hand while leaning over you. He is so fucking sexy, you almost wish you had gotten to know him a bit better before doing this.

You pull him closer with your legs, craving his touch. He hikes your dress even higher, and dips his head even lower, leaving a trail of soft kisses along your belly just above your waistline.

“Fuck, Hyunjin—please,” you plead, raking your hands through his gelled-up hair.

He doesn’t reply, he just kneels on the floor in front of the bed. He slides your lacy black panties down before spreading your thighs wide. His fingers part your folds, giving him a perfect view of your cunt. And then, he lets a string of spit fall directly on your clit.

He’s playing with his food. That’s how you feel anyway, not that you’re complaining. You let out a whine, partially from impatience but mostly because you can’t believe he’s so hot and a little freaky. Then, finally, you let out a noise that sounds like somewhat of a cross between a sigh and a moan once his tongue finally touches you. 

The man eats like he’s in a desert, and your juices are the only thing that can quench his thirst. His tongue is long, reaching in spots you didn’t even know existed. He leaves long licks from your entrance to your clit, savoring every drop you give him.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” he hums, sucking your juices up.

He uses his thumb to trace your folds, taking note of what makes you squirm so that he can do it again. It’s not long before he’s pressing two fingers inside of you, curling them just the right way to make you see stars.

“Fuck—keep going, I’m gonna come,” you cry.

“That’s the goal, sweetheart.” He’s smug, which makes him hotter. You want to roll your eyes from annoyance, but they end up rolling for entirely different reasons.

He picks up his pace, fucking you with his fingers while his tongue circles your clit. Your cunt is making the juiciest sounds, and he’s eating all of it up. He’s rutting against the side of the bed, chasing friction for himself, making the bed squeak under the two of you. 

He’s intense, but not in an overstimulating way. Everything he does is just perfect. You thank the stars in your head because not once have you had to give him instructions, a rarity these days. You’re straining to keep your orgasm back, wanting to feel this for as long as possible.

“Come on, give it to me,” he says, and you can’t hold it back any longer. 

Your orgasm crashes over you, hard, and you cry out in pleasure. Your cunt pulses around his fingers, and your thighs latch on the sides of his head as he coaxes you through it, slowing his movements down gradually. Your legs are still shaking by the time he leans down to plant a kiss over your clit.

“Holy shit,” you say, because they’re the only words you can think of after having the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life.

He stands up to lean over you, wiping your juices on the back of his hand before leaning down for a kiss. You reach for his waist and start to pull his boxers down when he stops you, grabbing your wrist.

You look at his eyes, waiting for an explanation.

“You don’t need to—,”

“I want to.” God, what you wouldn’t give to have this man’s dick inside of you.

“No, it’s not that. It’s—I, um…I already came.”

You blink at him. He stands up straighter to show you, and sure enough, you look down and see a wide wet patch on the front of his boxers. Your brain doesn’t compute because it’s the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever seen.

“I, uh, tend to get off on other people’s pleasure more…” His voice trails off as he explains himself. 

You think about getting down on one knee, right then and there. 

“I hear there’s a chapel on the ship,” you joke.

He laughs, trying to hide the blush that’s forming on his face. “You trying to make an honest man out of me already?”

“After that—absolutely,” you chuckle, still coming down from your high. “But I’ll buy you dinner first.”

“How about a shower first?”

The water runs off your back as you watch him lather himself up. You were expecting this to be more awkward, or maybe he’d want to bolt right after. But his lingering presence felt more comforting than you’d expected.

You almost invite him to spend the night, before stopping yourself. He’s a stranger that you just met, maybe he has other plans, other people he wants to see. You don’t insist when he goes to leave.

“I’ll see you around, I hope,” he says as he’s getting dressed. And you really, really hope you do, too.

He excuses himself from your room, and the silence fills the cabin with the click of the lock. You feel a smile creep across your face before you can stop it. This trip is going to be one for the books, you can already tell.

The pool deck is crowded when you arrive shortly after lunch. The sun is especially hot today, given the lack of trees and buildings to provide shade while at sea. Still, you strap your bikini on and find a quieter corner to sunbathe in while dipping your toes in the pool. You throw your head back, soaking up the sunlight, and relax.

“Is this seat taken?” A voice breaks through your thoughts and startles you.

You open your eyes to a man you don’t recognize. He’s on the shorter side, and he could definitely use some sunscreen, judging by the bright red that coats his skin. He’s really, really not your type.

He sits down next to you before you have the chance to protest. At first, he sits way too close, so you scoot out of his way, putting as much distance between the two of you as possible. You’re polite, nodding your head to whatever he’s saying, which is a long-winded speech about how fascinating cruise ships are. 

It’s boring. Mind-numbingly boring, and this man is not attractive enough for you to pretend to be interested.  You should really leave. You’re not interested, and you don’t want to waste the man’s time, or yours, any longer than necessary.

“I should go—,”

“Wait wait, one more thing—,”

“Darling?” you hear as a familiar figure approaches from your peripheral vision.

Hyunjin. He looks down at the two of you, loose tank top, dark swim trunks, and sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose. You can’t help but beam as he sits down.

“Hi, honey,” you say sweetly, leaning into his shoulder. “This gentleman was just telling me about…sorry, what was it about boats?”

“It was cruise ships, and never mind, you’re clearly not interested.”

He gets up before you can give him a polite goodbye, which is probably for the best. Maybe you should have said something sooner, but the look on that man’s face when Hyunjin sat down was priceless.

What are you even thinking? He probably just saw you from across the way, noticed the uninterested look on your face, and decided to step in to save you from embarrassment. He’s not yours, he’s just a nice guy.

“Thank you,” you stifle a laugh as the man walks out of view. “I had no idea what he was talking about.”

“You looked like you were in trouble,” he says with a smile. “And like you needed a refill.”

He places a cold glass into your hand, the same pinkish orange drink you’d sipped on the previous night.

“Another one?” you ask, playfully. “Careful, or I might start thinking you like me.”

“I do,” he says plainly. “You like me, too.” He laughs as he finishes his drink. You feel a flutter in your stomach, like he knows exactly what you want to hear. 

“Says who?” you ask, eyebrow raised. You definitely like him, but you’re not about to give him the satisfaction just yet. 

“Says God. I went to the chapel and asked him myself.”

“There is not a chapel on board,” you laugh, snorting a bit. “I made that up.”

“There is. I just went.” His straight, convincing face makes you laugh harder.

“You’re very humble, you know that?” you tease, pushing his shoulder a bit. 

“You love it,” he winks, and your heart does a stupid little flip. To your surprise, he excuses himself, stands up, and leaves you to finish your drink and sunbathe alone. He disappears into the crowd of people, and you’re still smiling to yourself. 

You want to ask him out, maybe to dinner at your next port, but you decide against it. You like him a bit too much, you think, and it’s easier not to let yourself have something if it’s just going to be ripped away from you in the end. Korea’s far, after all.

You go to bed that night wondering what it might feel like to fall asleep next to him.

Who are you to deny yourself the finer things in life? That’s the question you ask yourself as you’re pacing back and forth in your suite, getting ready for the evening.

Maybe Korea is too far. Maybe it’s too far for anything serious, but this is a vacation. It’s five days of living your life to the fullest so you can go back and tell everyone how cool the world is. And living your life to the fullest means asking out the man who made you see stars and not caring where it ends up.

You check yourself in the mirror. It’s a beach port, and you’re hoping to spend most of the day relaxing in the sand and swimming in the ocean. Your swimsuit shows off your body, and your coverup leaves little to the imagination—exactly how you want it.

Making stops in different countries is one of your favorite parts of a cruise. It’s fun to see the beaches, the different towns, and maybe do a fun activity or two while you’re there. The locals are always helpful, pointing out the best restaurants and the places you must see.

But today you have a different mission.

You spot him hunched over the beach bar, laughing with the bartender. He notices you almost immediately, his smile wide as he waves you over. His hair is wavier today, curling at the ends. It’s fluffy, and you have to resist the urge to find out if it’s as soft as it looks.

He orders you the same drink he’s ordered for you the past few days, before leaning in close. “I want to show you something.”

You follow him down the beach, drink in one hand and your sandals in the other, before you reach an area where the beach curves inland. It’s more secluded, away from the big crowds, and the water looks calmer.

“I swear it looks bluer from this side,” he says, sitting down in the sand. You’re close enough to the water to see the bubbles from the waves, but far enough so you won’t get wet. The sight is beautiful, with the sun starting to go down, and the colors in the sky complement the ocean well.

“Why tequila sunrises?” you ask him as you look down at your drink, taking a sip.

He glances at the glass, then shrugs his shoulders. “You didn’t complain the first time.”

You huff out a laugh. “So you’ve just decided that’s my drink forever?”

“Until proven otherwise.”

“What if I wanted something else?”

His lips curve into a smile. “You’d tell me.”

It’s not a romantic answer, but something about the simplicity of it makes your heart warm. The suggestion that if you wanted something different, all you had to do was ask and he would oblige has the butterflies in your stomach going wild.

The conversation begins to dwindle as the sun sets. You look beside you, and Hyunjin isn’t looking at the sunset anymore. He has a book in his lap and is delicately flipping through the pages.

“What’s that?” you ask, gesturing to the pad of paper in his lap.

“A sketchbook.”

“Oh yeah, you’re an artist. What do you draw?”

He flips through the notebook and shows you tons of tiny sketches of different figures. A man holding a child’s hand on the beach. A couple leaned against the railing, staring fondly at each other. A woman quietly reading a book in a corner.

They’re all people. Different kinds of people, from all over the world. 

“They’re my muses.”

It’s beautiful. Not just the drawings, but the craft itself. The skill it takes to see something and then draw it out on paper, the patience it takes to make sure the lines are all right, the passion and the will to want it to get it right—it’s all so inspiring.

He has such a beautiful view of life. And not only life, but the people who make up the world you live in. 

“Can I do one?” you ask. You may not be an artist or really the best at drawing in general, but you recognize the art and the beauty behind it and want to give it a go.

He flips the book to a fresh page and hands it to you along with a pen. You look around the beach at all the people, and decide there is only one person worthy of drawing.

You turn your body to face him confidently, staring at the features on his face. He gets the hint and poses with a hand on his chin and a big smile on his face. His cheeks are all bunched up, and his eyes are squeezed shut. The sight of him makes you laugh. He looks a bit ridiculous, but it fills you with a warmth you find hard to describe.

“Sit still,” you say after a couple of minutes of silence. Your lines are jagged because you can’t stop laughing, and the light is getting lower as the sun goes down. You hope that he doesn’t judge your awful drawing, but there’s nothing you’d change about this moment.

“You look cute when you’re concentrated.”

“Shhhh! I’m working.” He barks out a laugh.

It’s hard to concentrate when every time you look up, he’s staring at you. There’s a certain glint in his eyes that makes your heart skip.

“Done,” you finally announce. 

He scoots back towards you to get a closer look. You hand him the sketchbook to show him, and he bursts out into laughter.

“It’s not that bad!” you argue, crossing your arms in defense.

“No, no, no. It’s beautiful.”

It’s objectively terrible. His eyes are uneven as hell, his nose is crooked, and his hair….you’re not even sure you gave him enough hair. And you forgot about his ears.

“It doesn’t even look like you,” you say, pouting a bit. You did try really hard, but it’s just not your thing.

“Well, I love it anyway.” 

He’s so much softer than you first thought. You admire so much about him, from the way he carries himself to his outlook on life and how he views the people around him, even strangers. 

You don’t even realize that your eyes are locked on his until he starts to lean in closer. Your lips meet, much softer than the first. He brings a hand to your cheek, caressing you gently. You tilt your head to deepen the kiss, and he follows. You swear the only thing missing is fireworks behind your head.

“We have to get back on the ship,” he pulls back to whisper. “Come to my suite.” 

You nod, and he helps you to your feet, brushing sand off both of you before walking back onto the dock.

His suite is massive—on the top level of this side of the ship, with a beautiful ocean view. The king-size bed sits perfectly in the middle of the space, and there’s even a fireplace. Your company would have never put you up in a place like this.

“Wow,” you say, gaping at the room. “How successful of an artist are you?”

Maybe the question is in poor taste, but when he said artist, you assumed it was a “starving artist” kind of vibe. Not this.

But he laughs it off. “A couple of my paintings sold at a charity auction not long ago.”

Successful enough to have paintings sell at an auction, apparently. Wealth isn’t something you’d normally care about, but being successful at doing something you love is so hot.

There’s no point in dancing around it anymore. You want him badly. A grin spreads across your face as you pull him towards the bed. The nerves flutter in your stomach as you lie down, guiding him on top of you.

He kisses you with a burning passion, like you might never see each other again after tonight. He moves down from your mouth, kissing along your jawline. You thread your fingers through his hair and let out a small gasp when you look up.

There’s a mirror on the ceiling. A gigantic mirror, right above the bed. You can tell whoever designed the space tried to be fancy, adding some kind of etching details on it. Quite a choice for a cruise line, but maybe a bit exciting nonetheless.

He looks up at you when he hears you, and follows where you’re looking before bursting out in laughter.

“I’ll be honest, I had no idea that would be there when I booked this.”

“It’s kind of hot though,” you reply. He looks at you with wide eyes for a moment before going back to kissing you.

You’re barely wearing anything for him to take off, but something about him carefully untying your bikini strings sends your head spinning.

He works his way down from your neck to your chest, before kneading at your breasts and taking one in his mouth. He moves his tongue around your nipple before sucking gently, and you let out a moan when he lets go with a pop.

“I love it when you make that sound,” he sighs, taking your other breast into his mouth.

You tug on his tank top, signaling him to take it off. He peels it off his back and tosses it on the floor somewhere. He reaches down between the two of you and tugs your bottoms lower, sliding them off to join the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Your legs part for him instantly, and you can already tell you’re soaked. He sucks at your neck at the same time he dips his hand between your legs, and collects some of your juices before bringing it up to his lips for a taste.

“You taste so good,” he whispers in your ear.

“Let me taste you, too,” you say softly. You reach down to palm him through his shorts, and he lets out a moan into your ear. 

You push him back gently, feeling up his toned torso and pressing your lips to his neck. He still smells good after a day at the beach. You suck at the spot just above his collarbone before you work your way down to his chest, leaving a trail of kisses as you go.

“Leave as many marks as you want,” he says gently, combing his fingers through your hair. Something possessive inside you triggers, and you leave several bruises down his torso.

You reach his sharp V line and pause for a moment, untying the strings on his swim trunks and sliding them down slowly, licking your lips. His hardened dick hits his torso with a heavy thump. He’s gifted in more ways than one, to say the least.

You start by licking a slow stripe up his shaft before you chicken out, earning you a moan from him.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” he says, voice low as he slides his hand through your hair to pull it out of the way. “You look so pretty on your knees for me.”

His words embolden you as you drag your tongue up his length again, slower, before swirling it around the head of his cock. The taste of his precum hits your mouth, making you hum around it.

“Fuck, just like that,” he says, grip tightening in your hair. He tries to keep from bucking into your mouth too soon, letting you set the pace.

You take him in slowly, relaxing your throat and letting him sink all the way in. Your head bobs up and down, your hand stroking at the base of what you can’t fit.

“Shit, your mouth feels incredible,” he groans. “Look at me, I want to see those pretty eyes.”

You glance up at him through your lashes, hollowing your cheeks as you take him deeper. His moans are getting louder, and he can’t stop his hips from bucking up into you.

“Fuck, come here,” he says, guiding you off of him slowly. “I’ll come right now if you keep looking at me like that.”

You crawl your way back up his body, licking the salty taste of his precum from your lips. He pulls you in for a kiss, and you grind down against him, the skin-on-skin contact driving you wild.

“I need you inside me,” you gasp between kisses. “Please.”

He flips the two of you around, and you giggle as your back hits the mattress. You pull him in for another kiss before inhaling sharply as he dips his hand between your legs.

“Tasting me really got you goin’, huh?” he teases, slowly running his fingers through your folds. 

“Fuck—Hyunjin, please, I need you.” You’re not ashamed to beg for him, hoping your desperation turns him on.

“I got you, baby, just wanna make sure you can take all of me.”

The stretch burns as he nudges the head of his cock inside. Your legs wrap around his legs instinctively, pulling him closer. The two of you let out a chorus of moans as he sinks in deeper, much too slow for your liking.

“Holy—fuck, you’re so tight,” he hisses in your ear, hand gripping your hip hard.

He slams in the rest of the way until he’s buried to the hilt. The fullness is overwhelming in the best way. You look up at the ceiling, the visual of him fucking you makes your head spin.

“You gonna watch while I ruin you?” he grunts in your ear as he starts to move. 

You can’t even bring yourself to respond, the feeling of him sliding against your walls makes your brain fuzzy.

“Harder,” you manage to get out.

“Yeah? You want it rough?” He brings a hand to your throat, squeezing the sides gently. The circulation being cut off sends your eyes rolling into the back of your skull.

He sets a punishing pace as you watch the reflection of him fucking you. The sounds of skin on skin clapping together fill the room, mixed with his grunts and your moans.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans, slowing to kiss your temple. “Fucking made for me.”

Your cunt clenches around him at his words. “I’m yours,” you mutter out as he picks up his pace again.

“Come for me, baby. I’ve got you.” He moves his hand from your hip and slides it between you, rubbing quick circles on your clit. At the same time, he gives your throat a light squeeze. His thrusts get sloppier as he gets closer to his own release. 

The combination sends you over the edge. You see stars, and you cry out his name as your orgasm hits you hard. Hyunjin follows right after you with a deep moan, burying himself deep as his cock pulses inside you.

He stays inside for a long moment, letting you both catch your breath. He leans down to wipe loose strands of hair from your face and press a soft kiss to your lips.

Your mind starts to race when he pulls out to get a clean towel for the two of you. You really, really like him, and the idea of flying home and never seeing him again feels like a punch to the gut.

Hyunjin opens the balcony door to let fresh air in before lying down next to you. Neither of you speaks for a long while, just cuddled up in each other’s arms, tracing lazy patterns over each other’s skin.  

“Korea’s too far,” you mumble, the sadness evident in your voice.

His hand stills for a moment before he lets out a long sigh. “Yeah, it is.” He smiles down at you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

It’s too good to be true, too perfect to keep. You want to bottle up these small moments you’ve had together and hold them close forever. 

“I have an idea,” he says. “What if we book this same cruise next year? Same dates, same place, same ship. I’ll even book the same room so we can have the mirror again.”

You laugh, giving him a playful slap on the arm. But you look up at him and nod your head. “I think I like that.”

“We don’t have to figure everything out tonight. But maybe we can have this again. Maybe a little more next time.”

You bring his jaw closer to yours, kissing him slowly.

“Deal.”

a/n: ahhh thank you for your patience my life has been crazy! sorry if this one feels rushed! please let me know if you liked i've been going back and forth about it all week ahaha ♡

permanent taglist: @11racha @jisuperboard @kloversung @sourtae @binniebb @b4echo @hanjinology @lynsbng @eyyyylucieeee @bbyyuuu @viisstrayy @starlostjisung @stryscribbles @miniseungkimcami @embobema @sssoulesss @awkwardlyshawna @fuzzylard @0omillo0

event taglist: @fatbitchgeek-blog @skzcodered @kloversung @viisstrayy @starjely @channlust @lynsbng @mxmx09 @clingy-ass-bitch @taekwondoe @embobema @sage-burrow @tonkshamsandwich @starlostjisung @fauxontherun @jup-exe @b4echo @madaboutminho @skzhotpot @tsumiyaa @felixstarz @deffnot-ramiyah @onthesynth @bleepracha @poody1608 @angellixmar @avchannie @ykikleekn0w @wolfchan4life234 @majessticallyme @cchapssaltteok @yessirfelix @geni-627 @monainthemoon @lorerambles @mikachux3 @hanstattoos @angelchannieeee

[thewrldx]

caleb comes home to a surprise...

CW: rough sex, unprotected sex, light edging, use of toys (dildo), use of pet name slut, jealousy and possession

omg hi. its been a while. happy late birthday caleb and i hope everyone enjoy this. i forgot how to write.

It's quiet in your bedroom, a candle flickering against the wall, a seductive addition to the slick, wet noise of the silicone moving in and out of you.

The toy you had bought last week was an impulsive purchase, something to ease the ache your poor pussy felt after weeks of Caleb being gone. A secret thrill runs through you every time you use it—it's a poor substitute, but a substitute nonetheless.

You whimper and squirm against the sheets, teasing your entrance before shoving it back inside, pumping your wrist and hoping it eases the ache that Caleb's cock left you craving.

Then the door creaks open, and you freeze, the toy still buried deep inside you. Mortification covers your body faster then the sheets could.

Caleb stands in the doorway, still in uniform. He doesn't look angry, but there's a possessive glint in his eyes that tell you exactly how he feels about seeing something else inside you.

"What's this?"

"Caleb!" you choke, face flushing red. "Oh my god… I thought you—you were still on the trip!"

He doesn't move at first. He just lets the strap of his travel bag slide from his shoulder and hit the ground with a heavy thud. With his gaze fixed on you, he finally takes a step closer to the bed.

"I finished early. Thought I'd surprise you." He unzips his jacket slowly. "Seems I'm the one who's surprised."

You remain frozen, eyes tracking every movement he makes until he tosses the jacket onto a chair, and steps toward the edge of the bed. His voice drops to a husky whisper.

"Did you miss me that much, baby? Had to find a replacement?"

"I'm so sorry," you stammer. "I was just… craving something inside me, you know? It's been so long and…"

You cut off your rambling as he climbs onto the bed. The mattress dips beneath his weight as he kneels before you, one hand braced near your hip. The other hand reaches for the sheet you're clutching.

"Sorry?" Caleb's fingers curl into the fabric, holding it taut. "Don't be sorry for wanting that pretty pussy to be filled.” He smirks, but it’s tight. “But you should be sorry for using a piece of plastic for that. You have me."

You whimper, pressing your legs together as though somehow you could hide the toy.

"But… you weren't here. I had to do something."

Caleb tsks softly.

"That's not an excuse. You should've waited for me."

Before you can react, he yanks the sheet away, exposing you completely. Cool air rushes across your skin, and despite your best efforts, the toy is only hidden by the way it's nestled inside you. Caleb's eyes lock onto it, and a muscle ticks in his jaw.

Instinctively, you reach down, only for Caleb to swat your hand away. His own fingers wrap around the base of the dildo as he slowly pulls it from you. The slick, pink silicone glistens in the dim light.

A shaky breath leaves you as he holds it up—to your further embarrassment—examining it with a dark, unreadable expression.

"You went out and bought this?" His voice is a low, disapproving rumble. "Got yourself all worked up for a fake dick?"

You don't reply, too ashamed to meet his gaze as it flicks down to the mess between your thighs.

"It got you nice and wet, didn't it?"

He taps the toy on your clit, making you jolt.

"I'm talking to you."

"I was thinking of you!" you protest, squirming as he rubs the tip through your swollen folds. "I swear, Caleb. I want you—want you so much more."

Caleb doesn't look convinced, especially not when he pushes the toy back inside you and watches your pussy flutter around the length.

"Oh yeah?" he growls, drawing it out before pushing it back in again. "Then why are you making those sweet noises for it, huh?"

You writhe against the sheets, pleasure curling through your body. It's not just the toy—it's Caleb. The way he's looking at you. The way he's talking to you. The way each thrust forces you to feel every inch of a dick that isn't his.

A moan slips from your lips. You can’t help it. You’ve missed him… any attention from him.

Caleb presses a firm hand against your thigh, ensuring your legs stay draped wide and trembling as he increases the pace.

"Fuck," he groans. "Look at you."

He shoves the dildo deep.

"Is it better than me? Is that why you bought it?"

You shake your head immediately, trying to catch your breath.

"Oh fuck… it's not b-better… it's not—"

"Then why are you soaking wet for it?" His stare doesn't leave your face. "Why are you moaning like a slut for it?"

The question leaves you with no answer beyond another helpless sound. Your lips part, but nothing coherent comes out.

Caleb's jaw tightens as he drives the toy in once more, deep and hard before suddenly ripping it out of you. The sudden emptiness is cruel and leaves you cold, your pussy throbbing around nothing.

Caleb scoffs at your needy whine and tosses the toy across the room where it lands with a dull thud. Your pulse pounds in your ears as he crowds into your space, leaving no room for anything except him.

His hands are quick as they work his belt open, shoving down his pants and boxers until his cock is free.

You barely have a moment to admire the length you've missed so much before he’s tugging you towards him, and folding you in half. Your legs dangle from his shoulder as he positions himself between your thighs.

The tip of his cock brushes your entrance, a gentle warning that contradicts the harsh way he slams inside you. Your eyes squeeze shut from the stretch, your mouth parting in a gasp of pleasure.

His mouth crashes onto yours, swallowing the rest of your moan in a messy kiss as he begins to give you rough thrusts. His thick tip bullies your cervix, making up for everyday he's been gone.

He's so much bigger than the toy.

Warmer and real. It's making you fall apart.

"Oh s-shit…. oh Caleb… Caleb—!"

Your words dissolve into broken sounds, giving you no chance to recover between each pump of his hips. The room is getting stuffy, his balls smacking your ass with enough force to erase the memory of that silicone he'd found buried inside you.

When he finally pulls back to look at you, his eyes are dark and possessive. Sweat drips from his temple as his hands snake beneath your thighs, pushing them towards your chest as he fucks you harder.

"Missed you so much…"

Thrust.

"And this is what I come home to?"

Thrust.

The headboard knocks softly against the wall.

"Tell me I'm better."

Thrust.

"Now."

You gasp, fingers clawing at his biceps. The muscles in your thighs twitch and burn from the position.

"You're s'much better, 'Leb… mmmghhh—!"

"That's fucking right."

One hand leaves your thigh to grab your cheeks, forcing your glazed eyes back onto him. Your face is squished and hot beneath his palm.

"I catch you using it again," shivers run down your spine at his tone, "and it's going down your throat, understood?"

2026 © thewrldx

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[notmedicli]

𐔌 . ˚ IN YOUR FANTASY ┆LOVE & DEEPSPACE ֹ ₊ ꒱

the lads men discover your secret kink when they stumble upon all the x-rated videos you’ve been hoarding on twitter. busted... but why hide it when your boyfriend’s more than willing to take a seat in your fantasy? — wc. 6.1k

STARRING ♱ xavier ⌇zayne ⌇rafayel ⌇sylus ⌇caleb

WARNINGS ♱ X-RATED VISUALS ARE LINKED. must be logged in to twitter/x to view. fem!reader, ungodly amount of pet names, heavy praise — (sylus) free use, bondage, cum eating/swapping, switch!sy, oral (f. receiving) — (zayne) spanking, meanie!zayne, heavy praise, use of good girl, lowk cervix fking — (rafayel) dubcon-ish (?), somnophilia, degradation (use of slut), mean dom!raf, some yandere themes — (caleb) facesitting/fucking, some use of gravity evol, brief mention of insecurities — (xavier) sub!xavier, begging, edging (m. receiving) — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+

KIT’S NOTE ♱ hehe new year, new medicli layout >:3 i hope you all enjoy my first multi hc of the year! if u see any mistakes, no u didn’t! reblogs and comments are so greatly appreciated, i’d love to hear y’all’s thoughts on this :)<3

ᯓ 秦彻 ⟢ SYLUS ˖᯽ ݁˖ — big bf lets you have your way with him #freeuse

sylus shouldn’t pry—this much he knows. there are boundaries that should never be crossed and this? this is one of them. 

your phone is open to a twitter profile. some blank account with an obscure user and the locked symbol next to your name. it’s a private twitter account following 20 people with 5 followers. but it’s the most recent tweet that catches his attention—a man naked and bound to a chair with a blindfold covering his eyes and a woman using him how she pleases.

he picks up your phone with a dry throat and his cock hardening under his slacks. the retweet reads, ugh wish he’d let me use him like this </3

you walk out of his bathroom to see his back facing you and you perk up immediately. “sy, you’re back!” you say, cheerily, but when he turns around with his jaw clenched and your phone that quietly plays the sound of one of the many videos you were watching on twitter moments prior, your smile drops. 

“i didn’t realize you were into amateur adult films, sweetie.” he drawls nonchalantly, like his cock isn’t aching for your touch. but you can sense an edge that isn’t typically there. 

you stammer on an excuse, feeling your face burn in mortification at having been caught retweeting porn on your alt account. “i—it’s… well, i-it’s not what it looks like.”

“yeah? because it looks like you want to use me… just like this.” he stalks towards you and waves the phone in your face, a small smile pulling at his lips. “is that true? you want to tie me to a chair, blindfold me and have your way with me?”

you pull your lip between your teeth, gnawing at the flesh anxiously. you avert your eyes, staring at your sock clad feet before you feel his fingers tip your chin up and force you to look him in the eye. 

“c’mon, sweetheart. you’ll tell me, won’t you?” he murmurs, thumb pulling your bottom lip from your teeth. 

“yes,” you respond, throat dry and voice wavering in lack of confidence. “i want to have my way with you.”

he gives you a wolfish grin and all he says is, “okay then.”

—

you never thought you’d see sylus like this. in a chair with rope wrapped around his torso and one of his silk ties covering his eyes. there’s a permanent smirk plastered on his face and it makes you buzz with excitement. 

“don’t make me wait for so long, kitten.” he drawls, his cock bobbing up and down in dire need of attention. 

you grab his neck, tipping his face up and pressing your lips against his for a sloppy kiss. you push your tongue into his mouth, savoring the deep groan that rumbles in his throat. the kiss doesn’t last long—you pull away just as he starts to get needy, watching how he chases your lips with a growl.

your hand trails down his chest, squeezing at his peck before turning around, back facing him, and grabbing his cock. a small gasp of surprise fills the room right before it’s replaced with the sound of your paired moans as you sink onto his cock. 

“shit,” he curses, the word coming out breathless. his hands itch to grab you and they could if he really wanted to. he could break free from the lousy restraints, but he knows how much you want this and he wouldn’t dare rob you of this experience. 

and you take him like you were made from it, bouncing on his cock, your ass clapping with every thrust. you whine for him, testing his patience. “does it feel good, sy?”

another deep growl fills your ears and shoots straight to your core. “you know it does, sweetheart. what about you, hmm? does, hah fuck, does using my cock like this satisfy you?”

you choke out a sob, sitting on him completely and grinding your hips against him with vigor. “mmhm, you’re such a good boy, baby,” you moan out, feeling his cock throb at the praise. “b-but you know what would make me feel even better?” you ask, voice cracking. 

he tries to thrust into you, but you don’t give him a chance. he’s stuck in this chair with you on top of him so all he can do is pant out a strained, “what?”

“if you—mmm, if you came inside of me,” you whimper. “fuck, sy, please? please fill me up with your cum. want you to shoot it so deep inside of me, please please please?”

your pleas are so desperate, almost as if you aren’t already taking everything you want. as if you aren’t already making his cock twitch and his stomach tighten. as if you aren’t already milking him dry while he lets out a drawn out groan. 

a happy moan rips from your throat when you feel his cum spray inside you, filling you so deep just how you wanted. you let him empty himself, waiting till every drop of cum is spilled into you before pulling off his cock, grabbing a fistfull of his hair and bringing his face to your messy, filled cunt. 

his surprised moan is muffled by your pussy. you figured he’d rip through the rope and push you away, but he happily laps and sucks at your hole, licking up every bit of your mixed arousal that leaks out of you. 

you whine, heat flooding your body as you grind your ass against his face. “y-yeah, eat your cum out of me, just like that, sy,” 

“dirty girl,” he murmurs against your cunt before devouring you whole, the sounds of smacking and slurping and groaning resuming. 

your knees nearly give out, the only thing holding you up is the death grip you have on his silver locks. you jolt and tremble before him and he doesn’t need to see to know you’re close. 

all it takes is a raspy, “cum on my face, sweet girl,” for you to completely unravel, legs shaking uncontrollably as you paint his face in syrupy arousal. you’re reduced to whines and whimpers of his name and sylus just wishes he could see you. 

and his wish is granted mere seconds later when you’re weakly tugging the blindfold off of him, taking his gleaming face in your hand and pressing your lips to his to taste the two of you on him. 

he groans, passing the release into your mouth while pulling on the restraints in a need to grab you. 

“you did so well for me, sy.”

“mmm, thank you, sweetie. and,” his voice drops to a whisper. “next time you want to recreate something… just tell me.”

ᯓ 黎深 ⟢ ZAYNE ˖᯽ ݁˖ — meanie!bf makes you ask for permission to cum #spanking

zayne never uses social media. especially not twitter. but you convinced him to download it so you could send him funny tweets and cute cat videos. he shook his head and downloaded the app just to get you to shut up, but he never actually opened it. 

one rare and quiet day, with nothing on his schedule and you stuck at work, curiosity finally got the better of him. he made an account on a whim, and that’s when he saw it: suggested accounts. yours, right at the top, labeled as someone he “may know.” a small, fond smile curved his lips as he tapped on your profile, warmth blooming in his chest at the sight of your cute icon staring back at him.

but that smile fell just as quick as it came when he scrolled a bit too far and found a quote retweet captioned, “does anyone wish their bf would do this to them too??? :((( being spanked then doted on… sigh.” 

he watched the video with a dry throat and widened eyes. the first thought that came to mind was that you posted this on your public profile—but then he noticed you only had 15 followers. still, he’ll have to remind you of your digital footprint. 

once the initial shock wore off… he watched the video again. is this what you wanted? to be ruthlessly fucked from the back and spanked… by him?

zayne closes the app, clears his throat and throws his head back against the couch he’s sitting on. he pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a shaky exhale. 

if that’s what you want… then that’s what you’ll get. 

—

he waits patiently for you to trudge past the door, trying to keep himself busy with god knows what till he hears it. the sound of your keychains rattling and the click of the door as you unlock it and walk in. 

“hi, zaynie,” you breathe, skipping towards him and pressing a wet kiss to his cheek. one whiff of you and all he can think about is doing all the naughty things you’ve been secretly wanting. his cock aches. his blood thrums. he needs it now. 

“are you okay?” you pull back, concerned by his silence and even more deterred when you see his hardened face. 

when he speaks, it’s low and stern. a voice you’ve only heard a handful of times. “bedroom. now, please.”

you let out a confused chuckle. “what for?”

when he raises an eyebrow at you, you cower, nodding your head and scurrying to the bedroom like he asked. 

it’s nothing like what you expected. you didn’t expect zayne to walk in and strip you bare without a word, didn’t expect him to bend you over the bed and press himself into your tight, waiting warmth. and you definitely didn’t expect his hand to come down hard on your ass—the sharp, thunderous crack filling the room, followed instantly by your startled squeak.

“this is what you wanted, is it not?” he pants, fucking into you with vigor melting at the sound of your sweet, surprised moans. “this is what you were talking about on your twitter, right?” 

your voice comes watery, confused. “wh-what?” you ask, hands fisting at the sheets, your body jolting with every sharp, rough thrust. 

his hand comes down, your other cheek meeting the same fate and it has another desperate moan crawling out of you. “you wanted to, what was it? get spanked and doted on, huh?” 

and then it hits you suddenly—vividly. you remember the video. it was a faceless man taking a faceless girl from behind, ruthless, almost cruel in the way he fucked her. you remember the sharp smack of his hand against her skin, how badly you’d wished it were you and zayne instead. but what turned you on the most—what lodged itself deep inside your core—was the contrast of it all. the way the stranger’s rough, unyielding actions clashed with the softness of his words. the concept of being fucked like a slut while being praised like a good girl. it made you spin. 

it only made you think of zayne. zayne and his large, calloused hands. zayne and his sweet voice. zayne and his cock that stretched and fucked you so good that it makes you cry. 

and you’d be lying if you said the thought of him realizing this… realizing it’s what you’d wanted all along… didn’t make heat pool low in your stomach all over again.

you clench tightly around him, turning your heated face into the pillow that smelled just like him. this only makes him laugh, humorlessly. 

“yeah, you’re remembering now, aren’t you, my darling girl?” his throaty voice only turns you on further. you arch your back and wiggle your ass as an invitation. an invitation for him to give you more. to go hard. “that’s it. good girl.”

you shudder at the praise. “f-fuck,” the curse is whimpered against the silk fabric of his pillow. “fuck, zayne, it’s s-so—god! so deep. feels so good!” you feel him everywhere, but especially in your tightening stomach. you’re already at the precipice of an orgasm and it only makes zayne want to fuck you right to the finish line. 

zayne hums, spanking you again just to hear a giggly moan and it makes his heart want to beat out of his chest. “you’re so precious,” he whispers before his hand laces in your hair and pulls your face away from the pillow. “did you want me to find that tweet, sweetheart? so i could spank you and pull at your hair? so i could fuck you stupid on my cock?”

you don’t bother hiding it. you wanted this more than anything. you craved this more than anything. “yes, yes, yes! please!” 

“gooood girl,” he murmurs softly. it’s a perfect contradiction to the way his cock drives into you, the tip just barely brushing your cervix. it’s too much. you’re wound tight as hell, a dam on the brink of bursting, and zayne feels it instantly.

“you wanna cum?”

you can barely form the words, desperation breaking your voice as you beg, “can i…? please?”

“yes, baby. cum for me,” he grunts, fist tightening in your hair, pulling you into a deeper arch. “come on. cum all over me.”

you shatter almost instantly. your body trembles as you come apart on his cock, a needy, broken moan slipping free while the tight knot in your stomach unravels and you soak him completely.

he doesn’t stop—he only fucks you through it, steady and relentless, before pressing a gentle kiss to your spine. 

“you did so well,” you feel his lips curve into a smile as he murmurs against your slick, overheated skin, “he but we’re not done yet.”

ᯓ 夏以昼 ⟢ CALEB ˖᯽ ݁˖ — bf lets you sit on his pretty face #facesitting 

it was no secret that caleb kept tabs on you. he was very open about it—he has all your post notifications on, he knows where you are at all times, and he always knows what you’re up to. it didn’t bother you in the slightest, he’s always been protective of you—watching over you like it was his life’s purpose. 

but there’s one secret that you keep from caleb. and it’s nothing major, truly! it’s just… an alt twitter account you use to retweet your soft porn. while there’s no reason to keep this from your boyfriend, you don’t have the heart to show it to him. it’s the home of all your fantasies, more than anything, it’s embarrassing. 

even so, the last thing you want is for caleb to know. you’ve done everything in your power to keep this secret. you used an obscure email to create the account, a password with a series of random numbers and letters that he’d never be able to guess and an alias. it was practically impossible for him to trace it back to you. 

one day, you were scrolling on said account, thighs pressed together as you came across a video of a girl sitting on a guy's face, tugging at his hair while she glided across his mouth and nose. all you could think about is caleb—how good it would feel to fuck his face like you were in heat.

it was something you thought about often. you’ve had caleb eat you out before, yes, but you’ve never asked to try this in fear that you’d either A. suffocate him or B. he’d be turned off. 

so you do what you always do, quote retweeting it with a caption that read: “wanna sit on my bf’s pretty face just like this :,(” 

you shut out the app and flop back onto your bed, trying—failing—to chase the thoughts of him away. especially the image of him stretched out against these very pillows and you hovering over him while your arousal drenches his face. you lose yourself in the fantasy, hands sliding down your body in need.

but then your phone starts to blow up—message after message lighting the screen, all from your boyfriend:

caleb ♥︎: baby, are you serious?

caleb ♥︎: is that really what you want? 

caleb ♥︎: you wanna sit on my face?

caleb ♥︎: forget it, I’ll be there in an hour. we’ll talk about this when I see you.

your breath hitches and brows knit in confusion—then it clicks. your tweet. maybe you should’ve been more careful before hitting send. maybe the app glitched. either way, when you open the app again, dread crashes over you as you confirm that you’ve posted it from the wrong account—the account where caleb has your notifications on. meaning he saw it immediately. 

you delete it in a panic, humiliated, praying none of your other mutuals caught it in time. there’s nothing you can say or do to stop caleb from coming over. so you stand, pace, draw in a shaky breath and wait. 

—

caleb lets himself in, shuts the door, and locks it behind him. the talk he mentioned in his text never comes. no greeting. no anger. instead, he strips down to his boxers and climbs into your bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

you’re frozen where you stand, lip caught between your teeth, thighs pressed tightly together. when he settles against the pillows, he lifts his gaze to you so calm that it almost scares. he looks at you expectantly.

“well?” he starts. “what are you waiting for? i’m here. you wanted to sit on your boyfriend’s pretty face, did you not?”

you exhale a sharp, nervous laugh, “c-caleb, we don’t have to…” you let shyness take over. “i’ll—i’ll suffocate you. it probably won’t feel good for you either…”

he scoffs incredulously. “come sit on my face before i make you. you do remember my evol, don’t you?”

you barely have time to process it before you feel weightless, a surprised yelp slipping out as he drags you toward him with nothing more than a flick of his hand.

you give in instantly, nodding as you stumble, “okay okay!”

he lets go and watches with hungry, unblinking eyes as you push your shorts and panties down, letting them pool at your feet. you climb onto the bed and crawl toward him slowly until you’re hovering just above his throat, suspended in the tension and your own personal fear.

“caleb, are you sure i won’t be too heavy?” you whisper. 

“i’m sure, baby.” he says reassuringly, his hands grabbing your hips and lifting you till your cunt is just inches away from his face. “come on, sit. lemme taste you.”

you let out a shaky breath and start to lower yourself before you can talk yourself out of it, but his arms hook beneath your thighs and force you all the way down, drawing a satisfied moan from him and a startled gasp from you. your hands fly to his hair, fingers threading through the silky strands as you cling to him, grounding yourself before your strength gives out entirely.

you bite your lip, desperate to keep your moans quiet, but the drag of his nose against your clit paired with the warm suction of his mouth has your resolve shattering. it feels even better than you ever imagined. and when his hands come up to palm at your breasts? his fingers tweaking your nipples? you’re a goner.

“fuck,” you whimper, fingers tugging at his roots hard enough to draw a pained groan from him, though it barely registers. all you can focus on is the way he devours you like he’s starving, the vibration of his moans coursing through your body and lighting your nerves on fire, the relentless grind against your swollen, sensitive clit.

“caleb,” you cry, breathlessly, “ah! feels so good.”

“keep fuckin’ my face, pretty girl,” he moans, the words muffling into your cunt. “wanna taste you cummin’ all over me. you can do it.”

he pulls you onto him harder. like he wants to run out of oxygen. 

and you obey—even if you wanted to stop, you couldn’t. not when you’re this close—not when caleb wants this just as bad as you do. you hump his face desperately, like a woman depraved, chasing your orgasm. you let your moans out freely, high pitched and needy, letting them join the sounds of slurping and smacking.

your body trembles violently, fingers fisting in caleb’s hair as you shatter, a mix of arousal and slick cum painting his face while you squeal his name like a broken record. “caleb, caleb, caleb—” his name is all that exists—all you can cling to at the moment.

he groans into you, relentless, licking and sucking every last trace, his hips lifting off the bed with desperate urgency. his cock throbs in his boxers, twitching with need for a taste of your cunt. 

a sob tears from your chest when he doesn’t slow. “w-wait!” you gasp, legs shaking, body on the verge of giving out. “i’m s-sensitive, ca-caleb!”

“no, baby, please,” he whimpers, raw and earnest. “please let me keep going. you don’t know how bad i’ve wanted this.”

“w-what?” you breathe, dazed.

“for so long, pips,” he admits softly. “just sit there… let me do all the work. please?”

ᯓ 祁煜 ⟢ RAFAYEL ˖᯽ ݁˖ — crazy bf fucks you while you pretend to be asleep #somno

despite his bubbly, sassy exterior, rafayel carried his demons quietly. the kind that kept him watching you—both in real life and through the glow of a screen. the thought of losing you makes something dark twist in his chest. you’re his cutie, his heart, his muse, his entire world wrapped into one person.

he knows it’s wrong to have all your passwords. knows it crosses a line. so he tells himself he’s careful—only checks when he has to, when the ache gets too loud to ignore.

it’s been a while since he last logged into your account, but it’s also been days since he’s seen you. that has to count for something, right? just a quick look. just to scroll through what you’ve seen, what you’ve liked. just enough to feel close to you again.

a smile touches his lips when he sees all the silly tweets you’ve liked. 

but then he sees it. a tweet that looks so out of place in the midst of cute cat videos and senseless jokes. a tweet that reads “gf who pretends to be asleep x bf who was gonna fuck her either way,” along with a video of just that. the smile falls immediately, his lips pressing into a thin line while his brows furrow. 

his darkened gaze catches on the yellow bookmark, curiosity winning out before he can stop himself. the moment he opens your bookmarks aka the little trove of soft porn, his cock hardens. it’s all amateur and intimate, but worse, there’s a pattern. a theme. every two minute video was a girl getting fucked while she slept. fucked. bred. all while she laid pliant, eyes closed. 

rafayel’s eyes drag over the captions again and again, each one making his thoughts spin faster. he loses track of time, an entire hour slipping by as he clicks through every video, cock aching and heart racing, torn between guilt and the thrill curling tight in his chest.

he pictured you like that—lying awake at night, thoughts circling him…his cock… until you finally drifted asleep. he imagined the wetness that pooled in your panties when you drifted off, the way desire followed you even into your dreams. it made something deep in him ache.

how long had you wanted this? with the sheer number of tweets tucked away in your bookmarks, he can’t help but think this fantasy has lived with you for a long time now, growing quietly… patiently.

but why not make your fantasy a reality?

—

rafayel asked you to spend the night, and of course you said yes please. you’d been missing your boyfriend like crazy, and with work constantly getting in the way, time together had become frustratingly scarce.

when you arrived, he’d planned something sweet—movies, cuddling, takeout you both loved. an innocent night in. except you wanted more. every subtle advance you made was met with a gentle deflection. he ignored them all, letting the tension build until you were needy with it. you were wound tight, and he still refused to touch you the way you ached for.

by the end of the night, you felt coiled and restless, yet too perverted to voice what you wanted aloud, especially after being brushed off. so you climbed into his bed with a sulky “goodnight,” a pout tugging at your lips, and tried to will yourself to sleep.

it didn’t come easily. all you could think about was him. your eyes squeezed shut, brows knitting together as the ache lingered, basically impossible to ignore. you were wet beyond belief. and only after you felt slumber slowly pulling at you, you felt your boyfriend press against you.

you felt his hard cock through his pants as he slowly, subtly rocked himself against you with barely steady breaths. your heart raced, holding in the little gasp that’s threatening to spill out of you.

“i saw all the videos you’ve been watching on twitter, princess,” he whispers, rutting against you a little harder, the words hitting just as deep as the motion. “all those videos of girls getting fucked while they sleep… is that what you want?”

both your heart and your thoughts stutter at once. for a split second you think you’re dreaming—but you can feel him, and you can differentiate fantasy and reality. the truth finally settles in as his hand slides beneath your sleep shorts, drifting lower, touching you in a way that leaves no doubt at all. this is real. 

he hums when his fingers are immediately met with your slick arousal. “the idea of getting fucked while you’re unconciouis gets you this wet?”

you swallow the whimper trying to break free and let your deepest fantasy unfold. you force yourself to relax, to go pliant in the way you’ve always imagined this—but the moment rafayel circles your clit, your body betrays you, tensing on instinct.

“this slutty pussy wants me to fuck her, doesn’t she, baby? your body’s practically begging for me…” he groans into your ear, grinding deeper into you. “it would be so bad for me to fuck you while you sleep, though. i’d be such a bad boyfriend…”

you want to scream when he slows down. when he starts to retract his hand like it’s some bad idea. 

“i shouldn’t touch you while you’re trying to sleep.” he murmurs, a hint of amusement threading through his words. 

his hand nearly slips away from your shorts when a frayed plea falls from your lips. “please,” you whimper—and that’s really all the confirmation rafayel needs. he flips you onto your stomach and presses over you like a man starved.

your shorts are barely tugged down and his sweats are pushed just low enough for him to free himself. his hot, thick cock slaps against your bare skin and the contact makes you squeak. he pushes into you, filling you in one deep motion. gasps and moans spill from both of you in tandem, but he doesn’t give either of you time to settle. his hands grip your ass, fingers digging in as your flesh spills through the gaps all while he drives into you relentlessly.

“i knew you were pretending to sleep,” he grunts and it’s barely loud enough to be heard over the sounds of his skin slapping against yours.

you’re breathless when you manage to answer. “h-how?” the question breaks on a whine as his cock drives deeper with every hard thrust.

“i could hear how fast your heart was beating,” he chuckles darkly, never slowing, his pace mean. ruthless. “the way your breathing changed the second you felt me behind you.” his grip tightens as he leans in. “you were just waiting for me to take your clothes off and fuck you, weren’t you?”

you whimper, utterly exposed. “yes…”

“naughty, naughty girl.” he laughs. “should’ve told me you wanted to get fucked while you slept.”

you moan, clamping tightly around him and taking the painful stretch in stride. your back arches for more. like your body needs his cock or you’ll die. the knot in your stomach has been winding tighter all night, waiting for this exact moment, and you’re already embarrassingly close.

“no need to hold back,” he whispers. “soak my fucking cock like the slut you are.”

his sharp words tear a mewl from you, your walls clenching around his cock so tight it steals the breath from his lungs. you break as he drives into you without mercy. you fall apart around him with a beg, “please, please, please—” the word dissolving into a wrecked sob that fills the room.

“good girl,” he breathes. “now go back to sleep and let me have my fun, yeah?”

ᯓ 沈星回 ⟢ XAVIER ˖᯽ ݁˖ — dom!bf lets you edge him and begs you to cum #edging

tara is your best friend in the entire world. the kind of best friend who knows every corner of your life, including the private parts you don’t share with anyone else. especially when it comes to you and xavier.

at first, her curiosity overwhelmed you. her questions were invasive, relentless, sometimes overly embarrassing. but over time, you got used to it. more than that—you started to look forward to it. your weekly dates where you can rant about work at the association and the gory details of your relationship with xavier. 

telling tara everything became its own kind of thrill. the late night giggles when she’d come over, the hushed voices so he couldn’t hear anything while he lived in the apartment above you, the way she’d squeal or gasp at every insane detail. it felt good to have someone who wanted to hear it all.

you’d even told her about wanting to try something new with him—something you were pretty sure he’d never agree to. you wanted xavier to be the one begging you for once. he was always so dominant in bed that the idea of flipping the script… of him giving in and taking everything you had to offer, felt almost absurd… which was exactly why you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

you remember when you saw the video of your ideal fantasy on twitter. a video of a guy being dominated by a girl. she made him beg for permission while she rode him and all you could think about was him. how cute he’d be with his blushy cheeks and the yearning look in his eyes. how pretty he’d sound whimpering out pleas and begs to cum inside of you. it shook you to your core. you saved the video to your bookmarks immediately and came back to it from time to time just to fantasize. 

the night after you told tara about said fantasy, you decided to send her a visual, just so she knew exactly what you wanted. it’s not like you wanted to tie him up, you just wanted to watch him break underneath you. 

@/starringmc: this is exactly what i want to do to xavier!!! 

you hadn’t heard anything from tara for a while. you half expected her to open your dm immediately. she’s basically chronically online whenever she’s not on a mission or training, but there was nothing. 

a knock at your door pulls you from your scrolling, brows knitting as you get up to answer it. when you swing the door open, your breath catches. xavier stands there, cheeks flushed, posture oddly sheepish.

“xavier? come in.” you step aside automatically, shutting the door behind him before turning back, confusion etched across your face. “what are you doing here? did we have plans?” worry slips into your voice.

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he lifts his phone and turns the screen toward you—the twitter dm meant for tara, unmistakable.

your throat runs dry. heat rushes through you, mortification blooming in your chest, your face, the tips of your ears.

“i-i can…” you start, words tangling as his gaze pins you in place. “i can explain?”

he cocks his head to the side and asks. “so you don’t want to do this to me?”

“no! i mean—y-yes, but i… i just didn’t mean… i didn’t mean to send that to you.” you splutter. “this is not how i envisioned telling you that i wanted to try something like this. i’m sorry.”

“let’s do it.” he says, tossing his phone on your couch. “let’s recreate it—i want to.”

—

xavier sensed you were nervous. it took you a minute to fully get into it—the headspace, the dominance, but you eventually got there and he believes it’s the sexiest you’ve ever been. 

you sat on his cock, slowly grinding against him like you were trying to tease him. your hands gripped at his pecs, palming and squeezing them in a way that made him breathless. 

it was a struggle… to let his guard down, to let you dominate him. his hands were on your hips and he urged you to move faster. he wanted you to bounce on his cock till he came, but you said no. 

“beg for it.” you whisper. “i won’t move the way you want me to unless you beg.” 

he whimpers, the beg slipping past his lips all mumbly and cute—just the way you imagined they would. “please. please, go faster. i want you to go faster.”

you hum, delighted, your walls hugging him nice and tight as his words shoot straight to your core. you kindly oblige, lifting your hips and dropping them to which xavier lets out a blissed out moan. his brows knit in the utmost pleasure and his eyes flutter close. 

his hands slide up to your waist, gripping you tight and holding you in place while his cock rams in and out of you. you let out little squeaks with every thrust and it only makes his cock throb intensely, loud whimpers following your sounds in suit.

he tries to hold back. to not get so close, but he can’t help it. you look so pretty riding him with your tits bouncing in his face and your pussy tightening around him like a vice. it makes him twitch frantically. 

and you can feel it. the way he jerks and shakes—you know he’s close. you find it oddly endearing…how he’s been reduced to this, but you bite back the smile and school your features into something firm instead. “don’t cum,” you warn quietly. “you can’t cum… not yet.”

his hands still you, keeping you grounded and speared on his length as he begs for permission. “fuck, please—please let me cum.” he pleads, voice broken. 

“no, not yet.” and the sound it pulls from him makes your chest ache—the choked, desperate sob torn from his throat at the denial, raw enough to make your heart constrict. “keep fucking me, xavie.”

he shakes his head incessantly, “i c-can’t, baby—fuck, i’ll–i’ll cum!”

“you can hold it.” you say, breathlessly, resuming your wicked motions. “be good ‘n fuck me faster.” 

he clenches his teeth, pounding into you just the way you want. his hips snap against you with vigor while his cock helplessly throbs. he wants nothing more than to press deep inside and spill his load into you. 

“i wanna cum, please, please, please. baby, please—i’ll do anything.”

you can’t resist him… his pretty face, his sweet voice. you offer a saccharine smile, lean in so your lips ghost over his and whisper. “cum inside of me, xavie.” 

a loud, relieved groan slips out of him, his hands grip on you bruising as he pounds into you before he stills. his tip kisses your cervix before he’s pouring his hot, long awaited release into your cunt. 

he crashes his mouth against yours, allowing you to swallow his moans as his arms wrap tight around you. he pulls you flush to his chest before he rolls you beneath him, hard cock still pressed inside of you. you squeal into the kiss, breathless and startled as the world tilts.

when he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless, foreheads pressed against one another. you catch the darkness in his eyes, the heat flushing his cheeks, the way restraint is barely holding.

“can i make you beg now?” he whispers, voice low. then, softer… much more vulnerable, “please?”

© all works belong to MEDICLI 2026. do not copy or repost.

[cherryscript]

₊˚⊹ᰔ TOYED WITH EACH OTHER ᝰ.ᐟ

❞ featuring ⠾ gege!caleb

i suggest reading prequel of this fic— SOULMATE? HOLEMATE! —for better understanding.

❞ summary ⠾ You and Caleb reunite at Gran’s house and BOOM—turns out those sketchy toys were secretly linking your dicks and pussies the whole time. Months of ghost-fucking each other? Mutual. Both virgins? Also mutual. Gran leaves for 3 days? → instant horny apocalypse. You two lose your V-cards in the most depraved, “gege/meimei” way possible :3

❞ wc ⠾ 7.7k

❞ content warnings ⠾ pseudocest, heavy og “gege / meimei” / big brother-little sister dynamic, explicit smut, heavy dubcon, usage of toys, toys connected to each other's dick and pussy (portal panties), virginity loss, oral (m! receiving), toy play, double penetration via toy + real cock, squirting, creampie, face-sitting, spanking, cum play, overstimulation, rough sex, voyeurism, theft of panties, reader's a brat, possessiveness, emotional intensity, overall just straight up filth with plot

❞ cherry’s note ⠾ thanks to @kingraspberry12-blog for commissioning this piece. I never thought I'd drag my ass down to actually write a part two but it is what it is. Here's the most awaited part two of soulmate?holemate!. I've lost count of how many times I've crashed out during this fic lol. My brain's so fried actually, need to sleep it off.

The summer drags like molasses this year, thick and sticky, every hour stretching longer than it has any right to. Maybe it’s the heat rolling in off the Bloomshore coast, maybe it’s Gran’s ancient air-conditioner wheezing like it’s on its last legs, or maybe—more likely—it’s because you’ve spent the last two days fucking a perfect silicone replica of your gege’s cock in the room right next to his, walls so thin you can hear the creak of his mattress when he shifts in his sleep.

You’re both on the living-room couch now, same faded floral pattern you used to fight over as kids, same throw blanket draped over your knees like nothing’s changed. Except everything has. The space between your thigh and his feels charged, electric, like the air itself is holding its breath. Neither of you looks directly at the other. Your eyes keep sliding to the TV screen—some mindless rerun neither of you is watching—then dart away before they can land on his profile, on the sharp line of his jaw, the way sweat beads at his temple and trails down the side of his neck.

Caleb breaks first.

He clears his throat, the sound rough, like it’s been stuck there for hours.

“Hey, pipsqueak…” His voice is lower than usual, careful. “How’s life out in Linkon? Big city, more people, all that noise?”

He chuckles, soft and awkward, rubbing the back of his neck the way he always does when he’s nervous. You used to tease him about it. Now it just makes your stomach twist.

“Don’t tell me you don’t miss your gege anymore…”

You glance up—too fast. His cheeks are flushed, a faint pink creeping up from his collar. He looks… shy. Almost boyish. It’s so unfair.

Your own face burns hotter. You look away quick, huffing a breath through your nose like it’ll cool you down.

“How can I not miss you…”

The words slip out quieter than you mean them to. You press your lips together hard, trapping everything else that wants to follow.

You miss him so much it hurts.

You miss you in ways you're not supposed to.

You miss you so bad you shove his dick—fake, warm, veiny, perfect—inside you every night and cry his name into the pillow while you hug that stupid apple plushie he won for you at the fair when you were fourteen. You clamp down around it until your thighs shake and your vision whites out, pretending it’s his arms pinning you, his chest against your back, his breath on your neck. You come so hard you sob, and then you feel guilty for hours, but you still do it again the next night. Because you're broken and you want him and you hate yourself for it.

But you don’t say any of that. You just stare at your knees and let the silence thicken.

Gran’s voice saves you both.

“Kids!”

You jump. Caleb straightens like he’s been caught doing something wrong.

She’s standing in the doorway, dressed in her going-out blouse, small rolling suitcase at her side.

“I’m headed downtown for three days. Something came up. Emergency stuff. You two will be fine, right? Like always.”

She’s said the same thing a hundred times over the years. Back then it meant popcorn fights and falling asleep to horror movies on the couch. Now the words land differently. Heavier.

The front door clicks shut behind her. The sound echoes.

Suddenly the house feels too quiet. Too big. Too empty except for him.

You’re hyper-aware of every inch of Caleb next to you. The sleeveless shirt clings to his chest from the humidity, dark at the collar where sweat’s gathered. His shorts ride up just enough to show the thick muscle of his thighs. His arms—God, his arms—flex every time he shifts, biceps rounding, veins standing out against his skin. He’s broader than last summer, taller, filled out in all the ways that make your mouth dry and your core ache.

You stare out the window at the garden like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. Anything to avoid looking at him.

He notices.

Caleb chuckles again, softer this time, and reaches out. One finger brushes your cheek—light, teasing, the same way he used to when you pouted as a kid.

“Aww, is my meimei sad? Mm… I’m here. We can spend some quality time together—”

The touch is barely there, but it burns straight down your spine. Your whole body jerks away like you’ve been shocked.

Caleb freezes, finger still hovering in the air. His eyes widen.

“Pipsqueak… are you okay?”

You can’t look at him. Your face is on fire, heart slamming so hard you’re sure he can hear it. Your nipples are already tight under your thin tank top, traitorously visible, and you cross your arms quickly to hide them.

“I’m—fine,” you mumble, staring at the floor. “Just… hot.”

He swallows. You hear it—the dry click of his throat. His gaze drops for half a second, catches the outline of your nipples, then snaps away like he’s been burned too.

“Right. Uh… yeah. Hot.” He exhales, rough. “Alright. I’ll be in the kitchen. Lemme know what you want for lunch.”

He stands. The couch dips and rises with his weight. You watch his back as he walks away—broad shoulders rolling under the shirt, the dip of his spine, the way his shorts hug the curve of his ass and the powerful flex of his thighs with every step.

The second he disappears around the corner you clench your thighs together so hard it hurts.

You’re already wet. Have been since he sat down. Since he said your nickname. Since he touched your cheek.

You need a shower. Cold. Now.

You bolt upstairs before you can think better of it, lock the bathroom door, strip in record time. The dildo is already in your hand—pulled from under your mattress like it’s been waiting for you.

The water’s barely warm when you brace one foot on the edge of the tub, line up the thick head, and sink down with a broken moan.

It stretches you open in that perfect, filthy way—veins dragging, curve kissing your front wall, heavy balls nudging your clit on the downstroke. You fuck yourself fast, desperate, water pounding your back, free hand braced on the tile.

“Gege—fuck—gege—”

You don’t even try to be quiet. The house is empty except for him, and part of you hopes—prays—he hears.

Downstairs, Caleb grips the kitchen counter so hard his knuckles turn white.

The second you disappeared upstairs he felt it: that familiar phantom squeeze around his cock, hot and wet and impossibly tight. Then the rhythm starts—fast, shallow, greedy.

He’s hard in seconds, leaking into his shorts, breath coming in short pants.

He glances toward the stairs.

He knows what you’re doing.

He knows because he’s been doing the same thing to your toy every night.

And now you’re both home.

Both alone.

Both breaking.

He doesn’t go upstairs. Not yet.

Instead he leans his back against the counter, the cool edge biting into his spine like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His cock is painfully erect under the thin fabric of his shorts, the obscene bulge straining forward, tenting so hard the waistband digs into his lower abs. Every shallow breath makes it twitch, every phantom slam of your hips upstairs sends a fresh jolt through him. He moans—low, broken, helpless—each sound punched out of his lungs as your rhythm rocks him from the inside out. His knees buckle once, twice; he catches himself on the edge of the sink, knuckles white, hips grinding forward into nothing like he’s fucking the air.

He reaches down without thinking, palm cupping the thick ridge through the cotton. One rough stroke and his head falls back, throat working on a groan. The wet spot at the front of his shorts spreads fast—dark, sticky, obscene. He grinds harder into his own fist, hips rolling in slow, filthy circles, eyes fixed on the mess he’s making, precum soaking through until the fabric clings transparently to the flushed head.

Upstairs, you stand frozen under the cold spray for a long minute, water pounding your shoulders, doing absolutely nothing to dull the ache between your legs. Your pussy throbs in time with your heartbeat, still fluttering around the memory of double penetration, still greedy for more. The shower did jack shit. You shut off the water with a frustrated huff, towel yourself off in jerky movements, and stumble back to your room naked, skin pebbled, nipples tight from the chill and from want.

You don’t even close the door all the way.

You crawl onto the bed, legs splaying wide, knees bent and feet planted so you can watch yourself take it. The dildo is still warm from earlier, slick with your earlier mess. You line it up, tease the fat head through your folds once—then slam it home to the hilt in one brutal thrust. Your back arches off the mattress with a choked cry, pussy clamping down like a vice, walls rippling around every veiny inch.

Down the hall, Caleb sucks in a whimper so sharp it hurts. His eyes roll back; he has to brace both hands on the banister to keep from collapsing right there on the stairs. The phantom grip around his cock returns—tighter, hotter, wetter than before—and he knows exactly what you’re doing.

He climbs the last few steps on shaking legs, drawn like a magnet. Your door is cracked open. He shouldn’t look. He knows he shouldn’t.

He looks anyway.

And everything inside him fractures.

There you are—his sweet, innocent meimei—legs spread obscenely wide on the childhood bed you used to share during storms, tits heaving with every frantic roll of your hips, pussy stretched wide around a thick, veiny dildo that looks exactly like his cock. Down to the upward curve, the heavy balls slapping wetly against your ass with every thrust, the flushed brownish-pink head disappearing inside you over and over.

He can see the way your walls cling to it when you pull back, the slick strings connecting silicone to your swollen lips, the way your clit peeks out swollen and red every time you grind down.

“Mmhhh gege! Ahhh gege fuck—need you—mmpphhh!!”

Your voice cracks on his name, back bowing, tits bouncing wildly as you fuck yourself stupid, chasing that edge with desperate, sloppy thrusts. The sheets are soaked beneath you, wet patch spreading.

Caleb’s sure he would have moaned loud enough to wake the whole coast if he hadn’t bitten his lower lip bloody. It’s better than any porn he’s ever seen—hotter, filthier, because it’s you. His pipsqueak. His meimei. Ruining herself on a perfect copy of his dick.

The realization hits like a shockwave.

It was you.

All this time.

The ghost pussy milking him dry every night.

The way it clenched exactly when he needed it.

The way it knew his rhythm, his kinks, his breaking point.

And he’s been doing the same to you.

He shoves his shorts down in one rough yank; his cock springs free, angry red and leaking, veins standing out thick and pulsing. He wraps a fist around the base, strokes once—hard—and has to slap his free hand over his mouth to muffle the groan.

“Mmhh pipsqueak…” he whispers, voice wrecked, hips thrusting into his own grip like he’s fucking you through the doorway. “Such a needy little meimei… arghhh—it was you all along, huh?”

He can see every detail from here— the way your thighs tremble, the way your fingers dig into the sheets, the way you arch and sob his name like a prayer while you slam the toy deeper, chasing the stretch he’s been giving you in secret for months.

And he’s glad.

Fucking glad.

Because it’s mutual.

You out-freaked him first—ordered a replica of his dick and rode it until you cried his name—but he matched you, customized a perfect copy of your cunt and fucked it raw while whispering yours.

You’re both freaks.

Two depraved, lovesick freaks who’ve been secretly fucking each other stupid across hundreds of miles, and now you’re under the same roof with no Gran to stop you.

He strokes faster, matching your rhythm—every time you slam down, he fucks up into his fist. Precum drips over his knuckles, slicking the way. His balls draw up tight, aching.

You’re close. He can tell by the way your moans turn high and broken, the way your hips stutter, the way your pussy visibly flutters around the toy.

He’s right there with you.

One more thrust—yours, his—and you both shatter at the exact same second.

You come with a muffled scream into your pillow, body convulsing, squirting around the dildo in messy pulses that soak your thighs and the bed. The toy stays buried deep as you ride the aftershocks, whimpering his name over and over.

Caleb’s knees finally give out. He catches himself on the doorframe, biting his fist as he comes hard—thick ropes painting the floorboards, his hand, his stomach—while the phantom squeeze of your pussy milks him through every pulse.

He slumps there, panting, cock still twitching in his grip, eyes locked on you through the crack in the door.

You’re still trembling, legs limp, toy lodged inside you, chest rising and falling in shaky breaths.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.

But the door creaks just a fraction wider under his weight.

And your eyes—glazed, wrecked, still teary—slowly lift.

They meet his.

For one endless heartbeat, neither of you breathes.

Then your lips part on a soft, broken whisper that carries straight to him,

“…gege?”

And everything that’s been building for months finally snaps.

You freak out the second your eyes blink from eye contact.

The sheets fly up in a frantic scramble, bunching around your chest and thighs as you yank them to your chin. Your cheeks ignite—burning, scorching hot—while a high-pitched squeak tears out of you like a startled animal.

“What are you—!”

The door, already ajar, swings wider under Caleb’s unsteady weight. He loses his balance completely—arms windmilling for half a second—then crashes forward with a loud, graceless thud, face-planting straight into the floorboards.

You squeak even louder, the sound shrill enough to rattle the windows.

He groans, low and pained, and slowly lifts his head. Blood trickles from his nose in a thin, bright red stream, dripping onto the wood. He blinks once, twice, dazed, then pushes himself up on shaking arms. His shorts are still shoved halfway down his thighs from earlier, so his dick—half-hard, flushed dark, still glistening at the tip—bobs free with the motion, jumping against his stomach like it has a mind of its own.

Your breath snags in your throat, sharp and audible.

You stare. You can’t not staring.

When you’d scrolled through that sketchy website a month ago, trembling and horny and stupid, you’d picked every detail from memory—the exact length you’d felt pressed against your hip during too-long hugs, the slight upward curve you’d glimpsed once through damp sweatpants, the heavy hang of his balls, the thick veins that stood out when his forearms flexed carrying your luggage. You’d thought it was obsessive fantasy.

But seeing it now—in the flesh, real, twitching, leaking a bead of precum that rolls slowly down the shaft—you realize with dizzying clarity—they didn’t just make a replica.

They made an exact fucking match.

Everything clicks into place like a lock tumbling open.

The “ghost” sensations.

The double penetration every night.

The way your toy always seemed to know exactly when he was close, clamping down harder, milking tighter.

The way his phantom cock always mirrored your rhythm, pounding deeper when you slammed down hardest.

Caleb hauls himself to his feet, swaying slightly. He notices your wide-eyed stare locked on his cock and flushes darker than you’ve ever seen him—red creeping from his collar to his ears. With a rough, embarrassed jerk, he yanks his shorts back up, the waistband snapping against his hips, but it does nothing to hide the thick outline still straining forward.

“Pipsqueak…” His voice comes out hoarse, cracked, half-lidded eyes dark and glassy. A thin trail of blood slides from his nostril, curving over the bow of his upper lip. He doesn’t wipe it away.

You snap back to yourself with a jolt.

“Caleb—your nose is bleeding!”

You scramble forward on your knees, sheets slipping dangerously low as you reach for the box of tissues on your nightstand. One hand presses a wad against his nose while the other clutches the fabric to your chest—but not fast enough. The sheet drops just enough to bare your breasts again, nipples peaked and flushed from everything that’s happened.

Caleb’s gaze drops instantly.

He stares—openly, hungrily—for one long heartbeat before you yank the sheet back up with a mortified squeak. Only then does he drag his eyes back to yours, pupils blown wide.

“It’s not because I fell,” he rasps, voice thick. “It’s because of…”

His stare rakes down your body again—slow, deliberate—taking in the way the sheet clings to your sweat-damp skin, the dark patch between your thighs where you’re still dripping, the toy still half-buried inside you under the covers. You squeak again, smaller this time, thighs pressing together instinctively.

“Caleb!”

“Okay—okay, I want you to stop freaking out and listen to me—”

You look away fast, heart hammering so loud it drowns out everything else. You don’t know how to explain this. How to admit that you’ve been coming undone on a silicone clone of him for months. That you’ve whispered his name like a prayer while your pussy clenched around fake-him, imagining real-him pinning you down. That you’re terrified of what it means now that the secret’s out.

Who fucks a replica of their gege’s dick?

You do.

You really, really do.

Before you can spiral further, Caleb’s hands—big, warm, calloused from flight controls—cup your cheeks. Gentle. Steady. He tilts your face up until you have no choice but to meet his eyes.

They’re soft. Guilty. Desperate. Everything at once.

“We need to figure this out, okay?” he whispers, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. “Wait—I need to show you something.”

And just like that he’s gone—bolting out of your room, bare feet slapping the hallway floor, leaving the door swinging wide behind him.

You’re alone again.

The room smells like sex and shame and him.

Your thighs tremble. The dildo is still inside you—warm, thick, stretching you open—and every tiny shift makes it drag against your oversensitive walls. You clench once, involuntarily, and a fresh trickle of slick leaks out around it.

You can hear him in his room now—drawers opening, something thudding to the floor, a muffled curse.

Your mind races.

He’s going to show you something.

You already know what it is.

A possible pocket pussy.

The one he’s been fucking every night while you rode his replica. The one that’s been milking him dry from three hundred miles away.

And now it’s here in this house with both of you.

You swallow hard, heart in your throat.

The floorboards creak as he comes back down the hall.

You don’t move.

Don’t pull the toy out.

Don’t cover up any more than you already are.

You just wait—sheets clutched to your chest, thighs still spread, pussy still stuffed, pulse roaring in your ears—while the footsteps get closer.

When Caleb steps back through the doorway, holding the black satin box like it’s evidence in a crime scene, eyes locked on yours with something raw and unguarded…

You know.

There’s no going back now.

Not for either of you.

Caleb steps back into your room, the black satin box cradled in his big hands like it’s both a confession and a trophy. He doesn’t hesitate—doesn’t even try to play coy. He flips the lid open right in front of you.

Your eyes blow wide. Your mouth drops into a perfect, stunned little ‘o’.

Nestled inside, glossy and obscene, is the pocket pussy—soft silicone lips parted just enough to show the glistening pink interior. And draped over it, stretched across the entrance like a filthy bow, is one of your missing lace panties. The pale pink ones with the tiny bow at the front. The ones you swore the washing machine devoured months ago.

Caleb—shameless bastard now that the mask is off—hooks two fingers under the waistband and tugs the fabric aside. He drags the pad of his thumb slowly along the outer folds, parting them gently, stroking the slick entrance like he’s petting something precious.

The sensation hits you like lightning.

A surprised, broken moan rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Your pussy clenches hard around the dildo still buried inside you, walls fluttering wildly, fresh slick leaking out around the base.

Caleb flushes darker—cheeks, neck, ears—but his grin is pure sin. He chokes on his own spit when your inner muscles clamp down again, the toy translating every spasm straight to his cock.

“You get it now?” he rasps, voice wrecked.

Your brain kicks into overdrive, thoughts crashing faster than light.

You’d spent months drowning in guilt—convincing yourself you were the only freak here, the only one twisted enough to order a perfect replica of your gege’s dick and ride it until you sobbed his name into your pillow. You’d hated how much you wanted it, how wrong it felt, how right it felt every time you came clenching around fake-him.

But look at him.

Look at your freak of a gege standing there holding a replica of your cunt, wrapped in your stolen panties like some depraved keepsake. He didn’t just buy it—he customized it, scented it, fucked it raw while thinking of you, and then he kept your underwear like a trophy.

“CALEB YOU STOLE MY PANTIES?!!?” The scream explodes out of you, eyes huge, accusatory, betrayed.

He squeaks—actually squeaks—scratching the back of his head with his free hand, sheepish grin wobbling.

“Umm… well… I rescued them to wash but uh… hehehehehe—”

You lunge.

Your fists rain down on his chest, shoulders, arms—smacking him over and over, forgetting the sheet, forgetting the toy still stretching you open, forgetting everything except righteous fury.

“YOU JERK!!! I KEPT BUYING CUTE PANTIES AND YOU STOLE THEM?!??! HOW DARE YOU!!! I THOUGHT THE WASHER WAS EATING THEM!!”

“Ow—ouch—ouch—pipsqueak!”

He’s half-laughing, half-squeaking, trying to shield himself but not really fighting back. The sounds are ridiculous, boyish, so much like the old Caleb that it almost hurts.

Then his arms snap around your waist.

One hard yank and you’re flush against him—chest to chest, hips to hips, the thick ridge of his cock pressing right against your lower belly through his shorts. Your breath punches out of you in a startled gasp.

“I can buy you new ones, yeah?” he murmurs, voice dropping low, rough. “Anything you want. But right now… we need to talk about this, meimei.”

The name hits like a shockwave.

You stop breathing.

His eyes are locked on yours—dark, molten, stripped of every layer of pretense. You feel every inch of him: the heat radiating off his skin, the hard planes of his chest, the insistent throb of his cock trapped between you. And lower—the dildo still lodged deep inside you, making your walls flutter every time you shift.

“Take it out, pipsqueak.”

Your cheeks burn so hot you think they’ll combust. You shake your head frantically—no, no, no—too embarrassed to move, too mortified to pull the replica of him out of your dripping cunt while he watches.

Caleb frowns, impatient.

His hand slides down—big, warm fingers wrapping around the base of the dildo where it’s buried in you. He groans low in his throat at the feel of your walls gripping it—gripping him, then yanks.

The toy comes free with a wet, filthy pop.

You gasp sharply—sharp enough to hurt—your pussy clenching around sudden emptiness. Slick gushes out in a messy splash, coating your inner thighs, dripping onto the sheets, making everything even more obscene.

“Come on,” he chuckles, dark and teasing, holding the glistening dildo up between you like evidence. “I know you weren’t shy fucking this replica in Linkon, huh? No wonder the ghost was so needy…”

His eyes drag over the toy—taking in the way it’s coated in your arousal, veins shiny, base slick—and then rake back up your body, slow and hungry.

“I should’ve known it was my naughty little pipsqueak. After all… it’s only meimei who takes this much from her gege, hmm?”

His voice drops to gravel.

You gulp, panting softly, chest heaving. You pout up at him—bratty, defiant—and smack his chest again, weaker this time.

“But… you had a replica of mine too!”

Caleb laughs—low, rough, relieved.

“In that case… I’m guilty too.”

Then he moves.

One step forward and your back hits the mattress. You both go down in a tangle—sheets ripping away completely, your naked body splayed beneath him, still sweaty, still flushed, still smelling like sex and shame and him.

He braces on his forearms, caging you in, face inches from yours.

“Then we should share this sin together, right?”

His hips settle between your thighs. The hard length of him—real this time—nudges right against your soaked entrance, hot and thick and leaking through his shorts.

You whimper—small, broken, needy.

His mouth hovers over yours, breath mingling.

“Tell me to stop, meimei,” he whispers, voice trembling just enough to betray how close he is to breaking. “Tell me and I’ll walk out right now. We’ll pretend this never happened.”

Your hands slide up—fingers curling into his shoulders, nails digging in.

You don’t push him away.

You pull him closer.

“Don’t you dare,” you breathe against his lips.

And that’s it.

The last thread snaps.

Caleb’s mouth crashes down on yours—hungry, desperate, years of pent-up want pouring out in one bruising kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips, claiming, tasting, while his hips grind forward, dragging the fat head of his cock through your folds.

You arch up into him with a sob, legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into his ass to pull him deeper.

He groans into your mouth—raw, wrecked.

“Fuck—pipsqueak—been waiting so long—”

Caleb pulls back just enough to drink you in—really drink you in.

You’re sprawled beneath him like a fever dream: lips swollen and glossy from his kisses, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow pants, eyes glassy and half-lidded with want. His gaze drags down slow—over the flushed peaks of your tits, the soft curve of your belly still trembling from aftershocks, then lower, to where your thighs are parted and your pussy is clenching desperately around nothing. Slick shines on your inner thighs, dripping down toward the sheets in lazy rivulets. The toy’s absence has left you empty and aching, walls fluttering visibly like they’re begging to be filled again.

His whole body burns—not just from the heat of the moment, but from the sheer, dizzying reality of it. His wildest, most shameful dream is right here: you, naked and wrecked and his, finally letting him see you like this. Touch you like this. He’s drowning in emotions—guilt, relief, raw hunger—but he forces himself to focus. He wants this to be good for you. Better than good. He wants to feed every filthy craving you’ve both been hiding, satisfy the hunger that’s been eating you alive for months.

“So pretty,” he stutters, voice cracking as two fingers glide down your slit. He parts your folds gently, watching the way your clit twitches under the lightest brush.

You yelp, thighs jerking inward on instinct. “Caleb!”

He shakes his head, firm but soft. His free hand comes down in a sharp spank to the plush meat of your thigh—hard enough to sting, soft enough to make the flesh jiggle.

“Oh no no no no,” he murmurs, eyes dark. “Don’t go hiding from me now. You’re beautiful, pipsqueak. I want to admire all of you.”

You bite your lower lip hard, cheeks flaming, but you don’t close your legs again. You watch—breath hitching—as his fingers continue their slow exploration: tracing your entrance, dipping just inside to feel how soaked you are, then sliding lower. He gropes one ass cheek shamelessly, kneading the soft flesh before landing another weak, appreciative spank. The jiggle makes him groan low in his throat.

“Aw damn…”

You huff, mortified and turned on in equal measure, and reach up to grab his ear—tugging hard.

He yelps instantly. “Ow ow ow—what’s wrong? Did I hurt you—”

You scoff, cutting him off, and slide both palms under his shirt. Your fingers find the hard planes of his pecs, cupping them shamelessly, thumbs brushing over his nipples.

“Take off your clothes too, dummy,” you mutter, voice bratty and breathless. “I don’t wanna be the only one naked.”

Caleb blinks once—then grins so wide it’s almost stupid, ear-to-ear and boyish despite the filthy situation.

“Fair enough.”

He yanks the sleeveless shirt over his head in one smooth motion, muscles flexing under sweaty skin as it hits the floor somewhere behind him. Next come the shorts—hooked thumbs in the waistband, frantic tug downward. The fabric slides off his thighs and his cock springs free, slapping lewdly against his lower abs with a wet smack.

You gasp—sharp, involuntary.

It’s exactly like the dildo. Down to the last detail: the thick veins, the slight upward curve, the flushed brownish-pink head already leaking, the heavy balls hanging low. Your pussy clenches hard around nothing at the sight, a fresh gush of slick trickling out.

“Like what you see, huh?” he smirks, voice hoarse and wrecked. He grips the base and smacks the fat head against your dripping folds—once, twice—coating himself in your mess.

You whine instantly, hips jerking up. “Ahhh fuck—Caleb—mmmpphhh!!”

But instead of pushing in, he pulls back. You frown, confused and needy—until you see him reach for the dildo again.

With a slow, sinful smile, he lines it up and slides it back inside your tight cunt.

“Hai—ahhhh—Caleb!?!”

You can only stare up at his face—pleasure twisting his features, mouth falling open in a perfect ‘o’—as he pushes the toy deeper. A low, rumbling groan escapes him.

“Fuck… exact feeling…”

He keeps going—slow, torturous—watching your face the whole time while he feeds inch after inch back into you. Your walls stretch around the familiar silicone, fluttering, sucking it in greedily until it’s buried to the hilt again: tip kissing your cervix, heavy balls pressed flush against your ass.

Only then does he stop.

But he’s not done.

He manhandles you with easy strength—big hands under your thighs, lifting you like you weigh nothing. You squeak as he repositions you properly on the bed: flat on your back, head near the pillows, legs spread wide. He climbs over you, straddling your chest, knees bracketing your shoulders.

His cock hovers right above your face—hard, twitching, leaking a fat pearl of precum from the slit.

Your brain empties completely. All you can do is stare: at him, at the dick that’s been haunting your nights for months, now real and inches from your lips.

“You’ll suck it, right baby?” he rasps, voice trembling with restraint. “Mmmh… suck gege’s dick while the replica stretches you open.”

He lowers himself slowly. The swollen head smacks against your lips—hot, sticky, salty.

You open immediately.

Your mouth wraps around the tip, tongue swirling, sucking gently at first. Caleb throws his head back with a guttural sound.

“Ohhh fuck—dual sensation—ahhh… shit!”

His fingers slide into your hair, gripping gently but firm. He starts fucking your mouth in shallow thrusts—careful not to choke you yet, but deep enough to make your eyes water.

“Fuck baby… take it deeper. I know you can—ahh… you’ve been swallowing that dick down your throat, haven’t you? Hah…”

You can barely think—pussy stuffed full and throbbing around the toy, mouth stretched around the real thing, taste of him flooding your senses. But you obey.

Your hands fly up—gripping the firm meat of his ass, nails digging in as you pull him forward. You relax your throat and swallow him to the base in one slow, greedy glide.

Your nose buries into the neatly trimmed, newly shaved patch of pubic hair. His scent—musk, clean sweat, him—overwhelms you. Your eyes roll back, lashes fluttering, fingers sinking deeper into the thick muscle of his thighs while tears of effort slip down your temples.

Caleb’s head snaps back, face contorting in raw pleasure—jaw slack, brows furrowed, a broken moan tearing from his chest.

“Fuck—pipsqueak—good girl—fuck—”

He holds himself there for a heartbeat—letting you feel every thick inch pulsing on your tongue—before he starts to move again.

Slow, deep thrusts into your mouth while the dildo stays buried in your cunt, every rock of his hips making the toy shift inside you just enough to drag against your walls.

You’re stuffed at both ends.

Full.

Claimed.

His.

And he’s not stopping until you both break again.

Caleb keeps fucking your mouth with slow, deliberate rolls of his hips—balls smacking wetly against your chin on every deep thrust, the filthy sound echoing in the quiet room. His moans are low and ragged, pleasure ripping through him in waves as your throat flutters around his length, tongue pressing flat against the underside, sucking greedily.

You snap your hips forward uselessly, clenching desperately around the dildo still buried deep in your cunt. The dual fullness—mouth stuffed with real him, pussy stretched by fake him—has you trembling, thighs shaking, slick dripping down your ass in steady rivulets.

That’s when he breaks.

Caleb’s whole body locks up, shaking violently. His fingers tighten in your hair—almost too hard—burying himself to the root until your nose presses flush against his pelvis. A guttural groan tears from his chest as he starts cumming.

Thick, hot spurts flood your mouth instantly—salty, bitter, overwhelming. Your eyes roll back so hard you see stars, throat working frantically to swallow it all, but there’s too much. It overflows the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin in messy strings.

He doesn’t stop.

He pulls out with a lewd, wet pop—cock still jerking—and shoots the last few ropes across your face: warm streaks painting your cheeks, your nose, your swollen lips. You gasp for air, tongue darting out instinctively to lick what you can reach, tasting him everywhere.

Caleb pants above you, chest heaving, staring down at the mess he made. You look wrecked—face covered in his cum, eyes glassy and dazed, lips parted and shiny. He knows he should feel ashamed. He should apologize, clean you up, stop this madness.

But fuck—you look so hot like this it’s rewriting his brain chemistry. Ruining him for anything else.

You flutter your lashes up at him, slow and deliberate, tongue tracing your lower lip to catch another drop. The sight snaps something inside him.

He groans, low and broken, and reaches for the dildo. One rough yank and he pulls it free from your overstimulated pussy.

You arch violently off the bed, hips jerking, a gush of slick squirting out around the sudden emptiness. “F-fuck—Caleb—!”

He stares, mesmerized. “Fuck… you’re so hot, meimei. I think I’m losing my mind.”

You’re panting, trying to catch your breath, body still twitching with aftershocks. Guilt crashes over him like cold water—he reaches for the tissue box on your nightstand with shaking hands and starts wiping your face clean, gentle despite everything.

His cheeks are crimson, burning with embarrassment and leftover heat. “Ah shit—sorry pipsqueak, didn’t mean to… fuck… I’m sorry, okay?”

You just stare up at him—brain fried, body humming—and reach out. Your fingers wrap around his still-hard cock, slick with spit and cum.

He hitches a sharp breath. “Ahhh—oh god—mmhh—”

You give him lazy, teasing strokes, smirking mischievously through the haze.

“I want it, Caleb,” you whisper, voice hoarse. “I want your dick.”

He groans, hips snapping forward into your touch. Hearing you talk like that—filthy, needy—makes him throb harder in your palm.

“Say it again, meimei,” he rasps, voice trembling. “Say it… properly.”

You bite your lower lip, thumb flicking over the sensitive head, circling the slit, smearing precum.

“I want your dick, gege,” you purr, slow and deliberate. “Please?”

You don’t stop. Somehow you sit up—legs shaky—free hand sliding up his arm, over the thick muscle of his shoulder, then flicking his hard nipple. You lick your lips again, eyes locked on his, and climb into his lap.

“Need you inside, gege,” you breathe against his throat. “Not the… toy. Need your dick to fuck this pussy—mmhh!”

Caleb snaps.

Since when did his sweet pipsqueak become this seductive little tease?

He hauls you up the bed in one swift motion—then slams you back down onto the mattress. Not too rough—just enough to make you squeak in surprise, tits bouncing with the impact.

“Fuck—look at that sultry expression,” he growls, voice dark. “You’re such a tease, meimei. Such a dirty girl begging her gege’s dick.”

His palm comes down in a sharp smack against your pussy—wet, obscene. You whine, arching hard, the sting turning into molten heat that makes you even wetter.

“You bought a dildo to fuck this needy little cunt, huh?” Another smack—harder. You sob, mindless, hips grinding back toward his hand. “Used a replica of your gege’s dick to train this pussy?”

You can only nod—whimpering, desperate—grinding shamelessly against his palm.

“Fuck—but who am I to judge?” he chuckles darkly. “I’m a freak too, ain’t I?”

He presses the fat head of his cock to your entrance—hot, leaking, real—and snaps his hips forward in one powerful thrust.

You both nearly scream.

The bed shakes beneath you as he bottoms out—thick, burning, stretching you in ways the toy never could. Your walls clamp down instantly, fluttering around every veiny inch.

Caleb grips the headboard above you, knuckles white, hovering over your body. His other hand slides between your legs—fingers finding your clit, pinching and flicking with his thumb while he watches your face twist in pleasure.

“Good thing is… I don’t have to train you for my dick anymore, hah,” he pants, hips rutting in sloppy, messy thrusts. “You’re nice and ready to take me full… fuck… I never thought—”

He throws his head back, eyes squeezing shut. Tears well at the corners—not from pain, but from too much everything: pleasure, relief, fear.

He’s terrified he’ll cry in front of you. Terrified you’ll disappear when this ends. Terrified he’ll lose you after finally having you.

So he fucks you deeper—hands roaming everywhere: groping your tits, spanking your ass, squeezing your thighs. Rough, unpracticed, desperate. He can’t help it. He’s never done this before—not like this, not with anyone.

Suddenly he stops—mid-thrust, sweat dripping down his chest in rivulets. He looks down at you, panic flashing in his eyes.

“Hey—hey hey hey, pipsqueak… hah… are you like—feeling actually good? Like… or…”

His whole face is on fire. He gulps, vulnerable in a way that makes your chest ache.

Your brain is too fried to process deeply. You just grin—mindless, blissed-out—and grind back against him with a small, innocent smile.

“Mmhh… best big brother ever…”

Caleb’s mouth falls open. He chokes on a laugh—or maybe a sob—then shakes his head and goes back to fucking you.

He’ll ask when you’re sober. Right now you’re too drunk on his cock to think straight.

He finds your clit again—rubbing tight circles—and feels the telltale shiver in your hips. You’re close. He can see the faint bulge in your lower belly every time he bottoms out, and it makes him shy and so fucking turned on at the same time.

The fact that he’s claiming you like this—fucking you so deep you’ll feel him for days—makes his head spin. He prays this isn’t a fever dream.

His own brain is melting from the pleasure, the sensation, the sight of you taking him so perfectly.

He reaches down—presses the heel of his palm against the bulge in your belly—and pushes.

Both your eyes roll back at the same instant.

Broken moans spill from your tongues as you cum together—hard.

You squirt violently—soaking his cock, his abs, the sheets in messy arcs—walls clamping down like a vice around him.

Caleb comes with a shattered whimper—hips stuttering, spilling inside you in thick, endless pulses until it leaks out around his base, dripping down his balls and onto the ruined bed.

He collapses next to you—breathing ragged, eyes half-focused and glassy.

After a long moment he reaches over—gentle now—brushing damp hair off your face. A soft, satisfied smile curves his lips.

“Thank you…” he whispers, voice hoarse and raw.

You turn your head—still panting, still trembling—and press a lazy kiss to his palm.

“Gege…”

He pulls you close—bodies sticky, tangled, hearts hammering in sync.

Caleb’s hand comes up slow—almost reverent—caressing the side of your face, thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone like he’s memorizing the texture of your skin. His breath hitches when he feels the warmth, the realness of you still flushed and glowing against him. A low, stuttering rumble escapes his chest.

“Did you… like it, pipsqueak?”

You’re draped over him now—breasts cushioned against the hard plane of his chest, cheek pressed to the thick swell of his pec, listening to the thunder of his heartbeat slow. You grin lazily, voice cracked and hoarse from all the moaning, all the screaming his name.

“I fucking loved it, Caleb.”

His smirk falters—just for a second—something soft and vulnerable flickering in his eyes. His thumb circles lazy patterns over your hipbone, the touch grounding and possessive at once.

“Me too.” He swallows. “I thought I was pushing things too fast… making it uncomfortable since I’ve never—”

Your eyes shoot open. You half-scream, half-gasp, bolting upright so fast your tits bounce against his chest.

“WAIT—you… YOU MEAN YOU WERE A VIRGIN?!?!”

Caleb’s whole face ignites—crimson flooding from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He squeezes his eyes shut in pure mortification, but the corner of his mouth twitches upward in a faint, sheepish grin.

“Yeah yeah… first time got my dick wet. Kinda nervous.”

You beam—bright, wicked, delighted—and crash your mouth to his in a messy, giddy kiss. Then you’re scrambling off him, lunging for your phone on the nightstand.

“Wait—lemme take a picture of us losing our virginities together!”

Caleb’s mouth drops open. You were a virgin too. The realization hits him square in the chest—funny, warm, possessive—and a smug grin spreads across his face before he can stop it.

You flip the camera to selfie mode, crawling back into his lap, thighs bracketing his hips. His arms snake around your waist immediately—tight, claiming—pulling you flush against him while you stick your tongue out in a naughty little pose.

“Say cheese!”

He looks straight at the lens—smug as hell, eyes half-lidded and dark with leftover lust—while you giggle and snap the photo.

Caleb huffs softly after, nuzzling into your neck. “You better not show this to anyone.”

You wiggle your eyebrows mischievously. “Oh, I’m gonna show it to any guy who’ll bother me like—you should be scared of my big brother.”

He wheezes—chokes on his own spit—and bursts out laughing, arms squeezing you until you squeak in protest.

“Diabolical.”

His palm comes down in a light, playful spank on your ass—watching the flesh bounce with open delight.

“You’re a menace to society, you know that?”

“I get it from you.”

You bite your lower lip, rolling your hips back slow—grinding your slick folds along his still-hard cock. He groans low in his throat.

“Fair enough.”

He dives back in—kissing you deep, tongues tangling messy and hungry. You both moan into each other’s mouths, hands roaming, relearning every inch now that the barrier’s gone.

“Fuck… I’m gonna miss you when I go back to Skyhaven…”

You grin against his lips, crawling higher up his body until you’re straddling his chest. Your hand wraps around his cock—still slick, still leaking—and guide the head to your mouth.

“That’s what the toys are for, gege.”

You hum as you wrap your lips around him again—slow, teasing—tongue swirling over the sensitive slit. Caleb lets out a low, rumbling moan, hips twitching up into the wet heat of your mouth.

“Ahhh… I almost forgot…”

His fingers slide down—two thick digits pushing into your dripping pussy without warning. You moan around his cock, the vibration making him curse under his breath.

“Three days left… fuck, I can’t get enough of you, meimei…!”

Neither can you.

The next three days blur into one long, feverish haze.

You fuck like rabbits—hours bleeding into hours, positions changing, surfaces shifting—bed, floor, shower, kitchen counter when Gran’s still gone, even on the old couch in the living room where you used to watch cartoons together as kids.

He eats you out until your thighs shake and you’re crying his name.

You ride him slow and deep until he’s begging.

He pins you against the wall and fucks you standing until pictures rattle on their hooks.

You suck him off in the hallway while he tries—and fails to stay quiet.

Every time one of you starts to flag—exhausted, sore, spent—the other just reaches over, touches, whispers filthy encouragement, and the fire reignites.

Even after Gran comes back—bags in hand, cheerful questions about your “quiet week”—you keep sneaking.

Late-night tiptoes down the hall.

Muffled moans pressed into pillows so she doesn’t hear.

Quick, desperate fucks in the bathroom while the shower runs to cover the sounds.

His hand over your mouth while he grinds into you from behind, whispering “quiet, meimei, or Gran’ll hear how much her good girl likes her gege’s cock.”

When the vacation finally ends, you stand on the platform watching the train to Skyhaven pull away.

Caleb leans out the open window one last time—hair mussed, eyes soft and dark—and presses a final, lingering kiss to your lips.

“Be good,” he murmurs against your mouth.

You grin, wicked. “No promises.”

The train starts moving. He disappears down the track.

You stand there until it’s gone, thighs clenched tight—still feeling the fresh load he stuffed you full with this morning before dawn, warm and thick and leaking slowly down your inner thighs under your skirt.

You shift your weight—feel it drip a little more—and smile to yourself.

Three hundred miles apart again. But the toys are waiting. And now you both know exactly what the other needs. You turn toward your apartment in linkon, already counting the days until the next break.

© CHERRYSCRIPT 2026— don't copy translate feed my work to ai.

[cherryscript]

SOULMATE? HOLEMATE!

⚘. featuring Ꮺ gege!caleb

read sequel of this fic— TOYED WITH EACH OTHER

⚘. summary Ꮺ You ordered a custom dildo that perfectly matches your big-brother-figure Caleb’s dick. Caleb ordered a pocket pussy that perfectly matches your's. Neither of you knows the toys are synced to the real thing. Now every time one of you fucks your toy, the other feels it—like ghost sex on steroids. You’ve both spent months thinking you’re being haunted by the supernatural while secretly fucking each other senseless through the wall. The feedback loop goes haywire. No one is surviving this vacation with their sanity intact.

⚘. content warnings Ꮺ pseudocest, og cn gege/meimei trope, heavy dubcon, masturbations, unsolved sexual tension, zero communications, guilt, denial, forbidden desires, sexual frustration, mutual yearning, usage of sex toys, magical sex toys that secretly link to other person's body(portal panties), mutual fucking, semi-public/public, double penetration, extreme tightness + involuntary orgasms, excessive cumming/squirting, porn with little no plot . . .18 + ★ MINORS DNI !

⚘. wc Ꮺ 6k+

⚘. cherry’s note Ꮺ this is probably the weirdest scenario I've written so far... took me some real good TIME to finish...

“And that’s the last box,” you huff, letting the cardboard thud against the scuffed hardwood near the doorway. You straighten up straight, rolling your shoulders, wiping the sheen of sweat from your forehead with the back of your wrist. The tiny apartment looks like a warzone of luggage and flat-pack furniture Caleb swore you “absolutely needed”—his credit card, his orders, his quiet, stubborn way of still taking care of you even when he’s hundreds of miles away.

Linkon City air tastes different. Sharper. Lonelier.

You’ve been here three weeks and it still doesn’t feel like home. Maybe it never will without him barging through the door, scolding you for leaving dishes in the sink or for forgetting to eat again.

A sigh slips out as you kick off your sneakers. Shower first, chaos later.

Clothes hit the floor in a careless pile. The bathroom is barely big enough for one person, but the water pressure is perfect—hot, punishing, exactly what your sore muscles crave. Steam fills the cramped space, fogging the mirror, swallowing every reflection that isn’t you.

You tip your head back, letting the spray pound against your throat, your collarbones, sliding down between your breasts. The heat loosens something inside your chest.

Caleb’s face flashes behind your closed eyes uninvited. Always uninvited, yet always there.

Sharp jaw. Tired eyes that soften only for you. The way his pilot uniform hugs his shoulders now that he’s filling out, taller and broader every time he comes home on break. The way he still calls you “little pipsqueak” even though you’re not little anymore.

You shouldn’t.

You really, really shouldn’t.

But your hand is already moving, gliding over slick skin, tracing the curve of your waist, the dip of your navel, lower.

“You must’ve felt this heavy too, gege…” you whisper to the steam, voice trembling with guilt and something darker. “All alone in Skyhaven… in that big empty house with no one to—”

Your fingers slip between your thighs, parting swollen folds, finding yourself already soaked and it has nothing to do with the shower.

A broken little sound escapes as you circle your clit, slow, teasing, the same way you’ve imagined he would if he ever—God—if he ever let himself unravel like this.

“Mmh… gege, are you worried about me?” The words come out filthy, breathless, wrong in the best way. “Do you… think about me when you’re alone too?”

You press two fingers inside yourself, curling, pumping, thighs shaking. The heel of your palm grinds against your clit and your hips jerk forward like you’re fucking your own hand, like you’re chasing a ghost that wears his face.

You’ve never touched each other. Not once. Not beyond lingering hugs that lasted too long, not beyond his thumb brushing your cheek when you cried after graduation, not beyond falling asleep on his shoulder during long flights home and pretending both of you didn’t notice how neither moved away.

But you know.

You both know.

“C-Caleb—” His name cracks in your throat as you come undone, clenching hard around your fingers, knees nearly buckling. Water pounds over you like it’s trying to wash the sin off your skin, but it can’t reach the stain inside your chest.

You stay there until the water starts to cool, forehead pressed to the tile, panting, ashamed, and still aching for him.

Because even an entire city apart, even with new lives and new rules and the Hunter Academy waiting to swallow you whole tomorrow—Caleb is still the only home you want to go back to.

And you’re terrified he wants to come back to you too.

You step out of the bathroom wrapped in nothing but steam and guilt, skin still tingling, cheeks flaming hotter than the shower ever got. Droplets race down your neck, your spine, between your ass cheeks; every trickle feels like a reprimand. You don’t even bother with clothes. You just belly-flop onto the bed, wet hair fanning across the pillow, and immediately start flailing like a dying shrimp.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” you hiss, kicking the sheets, punching the mattress, rolling side to side until the towel finally gives up and falls open. You lie there spread-eagle, panting at the ceiling like it personally offended you.

You miss your stupid, overprotective, stupidly hot gege this much.

It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic.

You need to do something about it before you lose the last shred of your sanity.

With a groan you drag the laptop Caleb bought you—matte black, way too expensive, has a little fighter-jet sticker he slapped on the lid as a joke— onto your stomach and flip it open. Fingers hover over the keys for half a second before shame loses the fight.

You type: “best sex toys for beginners”.

The screen explodes with color and silicone and words like “thrusting” and “suction” and “10 vibration patterns”. Your eyes go wide.

“Oh WOW…”

You scroll, jaw literally on the floor, until you hit the prices and wheeze. Eight hundred dollars for a rabbit vibrator? Who has that kind of money? Certainly not a broke freshman hunter living off instant noodles and Caleb’s guilt-money transfers.

You slam the laptop shut, fling yourself backward again, and whine at the ceiling.

“Too broke for that… damn, I can’t even get a proper dildo shoved up into my pussy, life is unfair—”

Ding ding.

Your phone lights up on the nightstand. Unknown number. A link.

Normally you’d ignore it. Today you’re desperate and dumb, so you squint, see “70% OFF FLASH SALE!!” in screaming red letters, and click before your brain catches up.

The site that loads is… questionable. Neon pink, flickering banners, probably one virus away from stealing your soul. But front and center is a product that makes your heart stop.

“Feel Like Someone You Love”

100% customizable hyper-realistic silicone sleeve + internal texture mapping

“Upload a photo, choose vein pattern, pick warmth settings; experience the exact cock you’ve always dreamed of.”

Your mouth goes dry.

There’s a little heart icon that says “Most Wishlisted Item of the Year”.

You shouldn’t.

You really, really shouldn’t.

But your finger is already over the “Customize Now” button and your thighs are already squeezing together remembering how your own fingers felt pretending they were his.

Ten minutes later you’ve uploaded the clearest photo you have of Caleb—him leaning against the cockpit of his fighter, flight suit half-zipped, smirk sharp enough to cut glass. You pick the length you’ve definitely never measured in your head while hugging him goodbye, the exact girth your dirty imagination has circled back to for years, the upward curve you’ve caught a glimpse of once through his sweatpants and never recovered from.

Veins: raised, prominent, just like the ones on his forearms when he carries your luggage without breaking a sweat. Warmth setting: “always hot, like he just worked out”. Internal texture: “tight but yielding, the way you bet he’d feel if he ever snapped and pinned you down.

The total, with the sketchy discount, is suspiciously low. Delivery: 3–5 days, discreet packaging.

Your finger hovers over “Place Order”. Morals scream. Pussy throbs harder. You hit the button before you can talk yourself out of it.

Order confirmed. You drop the phone like it’s on fire, roll facedown into the pillow, and muffle a scream that’s half horror, half unbearable anticipation.

In three to five days, you’re going to fuck a perfect replica of the cock belonging to the one person you’re never, ever supposed to want.

And you already know you’re going to call it gege while you do.

Five days of checking the mailbox like a lunatic. Five days of that stupid website 404-ing every time you tried to track the order. Five days of punching training dummies with your entire soul while screaming internally about getting scammed out of your last paycheck for a ghost dick.

“FUCK, IT WAS A SCAM!” you snarl, slamming an uppercut into the dummy’s throat so hard the stuffing starts leaking, “WHAT WAS I THINKING!”. Your squadmates give you a wide berth, whispering. Whatever. Let them think you’re unhinged. You are unhinged.

Then your phone buzzes against your hip. Package delivered.

You don’t even wait for the instructor to dismiss you. You just bolt, boots pounding pavement the whole way back, lungs burning, sweat cooling on your neck in the evening air. The second the apartment door slams behind you, you spot the box.

Plain brown. No labels except your name in printed font. You drop to your knees like a woman possessed, nails clawing at tape, ripping cardboard like it owes you money. The lid flies off. And you stop breathing.

Nestled in black satin is the most obscene, perfect, terrifying cock you’ve ever seen.

It’s huge. Stupidly, ridiculously huge. Thick veins snake up the shaft, only these are flushed dark, pulsing faintly with the built-in warming tech. The head is that deep brownish-pink, flared and glistening from whatever hyper-realistic coating they used. Heavy balls hang low, weighted, shifting slightly when you nudge the box.

You don’t remember setting the length slider this high.

You don’t care. Your mouth actually waters.

“Oh wow…” It comes out strangled. You fall back onto your ass, legs splayed, staring at the thing like it might stand up and walk over to you itself. “Oh my god.”

Your pussy clenches so hard you feel it in your throat.

You haven’t even taken your sweaty training gear off and you’re already dripping down your thighs.

You pick it up with both hands—jesus, it’s warm, heavier than expected and the second your fingers close around the shaft it pulses again, like it knows who it belongs to.

Like it’s been waiting for you just as long as you’ve been waiting for him.

You press the thick head against your cheek without thinking, dragging it down to your lips, breathing in the clean, new-silicone scent mixed with whatever insane tech makes it smell faintly like his cologne.

“Fuck, gege…” you whisper against the tip, voice cracking.

The toy throbs in your grip like it heard you.

You have never sprinted to lock your bedroom door faster in your life.You don’t make it to the bed.

The second the lock clicks you’re already peeling off your sweat-soaked clothes, sports bra flung somewhere, shorts kicked aside, panties dragged down your thighs and left dangling off one ankle. The toy is still in your grip, hot against your palm, veins pulsing faintly with the internal heater like it has a heartbeat.

You drop to your knees on the rug, legs spreading wide without shame, back hitting the edge of the mattress. The thick head nudges your lips and you open instantly, greedy, tongue flattening against the underside as you take the first few inches into your mouth. It’s too big; your jaw aches immediately, drool already spilling down your chin, but you force yourself deeper, gagging softly, eyes watering.

You pull off with a wet pop and a broken moan.

“Need you inside me, gege… please—”

You flip onto all fours, ass in the air, face buried in the sheets that still smell like the detergent he used to buy for both of you back home. One hand reaches back, guiding the fat tip through your soaked folds, coating it, teasing your clit until your thighs shake.

Then you push.

The stretch is obscene. Your pussy flutters, resists, then gives all at once. A strangled cry rips out of you as the first half sinks in, thick veins dragging against your walls, that perfect upward curve kissing spots you’ve never reached with your fingers. You claw at the sheets, hips jerking back on instinct, taking more, more, until your ass meets the heavy silicone balls and you’re stuffed so full you can’t breathe.

“F-fuck—Caleb—”

You pull forward until only the head remains, then slam back. The impact makes you scream into the mattress. Again. Harder. Faster. Your tits bounce with every brutal thrust, nipples dragging against the rug, thighs slapping against silicone like they’re slapping against his hips.

You lose count of how many times you fuck yourself on it. You lose language. All that exists is the wet, filthy sound of your cunt swallowing him, the burn in your thighs, the way your clit throbs every time the base grinds against it.

You flip over, legs thrown wide, knees hooked over your elbows so you can watch. Watch the way your pussy lips stretched thin around his cock, watch it disappear inside you again and again, slick coating everything, dripping down your ass, pooling on the floor.

“Look what you do to me, gege,” you sob, voice wrecked. “Look how wet you make me—how empty I am without you—fuck, I’m such a slut for you—”

Your free hand flies to your clit, rubbing frantic circles, and the orgasm barrels into you like a freight train. You squirt, actually squirt, a gush that soaks the toy and your thighs and the rug beneath you. Your walls clamp down so hard the dildo almost slips out, but you shove it deeper, riding the aftershocks, grinding, crying his name like a prayer.

You don’t stop.

You can’t.

You pull it out only long enough to flip the toy around and shove the slick head against your ass, teasing, not quite brave enough yet, but the thought alone makes you come again, smaller this time, a full-body shudder that leaves you gasping.

When you finally collapse, the dildo is still buried to the hilt, your pussy fluttering around it in lazy pulses. You’re trembling, sweaty, ruined. Tears and drool and cum smeared across your face and chest.

You reach down blindly, fingers brushing the base, and give it one last slow thrust just to hear yourself whimper.

“…come home soon, gege,” you whisper to the empty room, voice hoarse. “I don’t think this is gonna be enough anymore.”

The toy stays inside you the rest of the night. You fall asleep clenching around it, dreaming of the real thing finally splitting you open.

—

—

Skyhaven, DAA parade grounds, 18:47 local.

Caleb is standing at parade rest, flight jacket crisp, medals gleaming, trying to look like the perfect poster boy for the Deepspace Aviation Academy while the brass drones on about honor and vigilance. The formation is dead silent except for the wind whipping the flags.

Then it starts.

A faint tingle at the base of his spine. He shifts his weight, ignores it. Probably just nerves.

Gideon elbows him from the left. “Dude, you good? You’re sweating bullets.”

Caleb forces a laugh, teeth clenched. “Yeah, just hot in this jacket.”

The tingle turns into heat. A slow, syrupy, pooling right behind his balls. His cock twitches once, then again, harder, like someone just wrapped a fist around it and squeezed.

He locks his knees to keep from swaying.

The sensation climbs. Something slick and impossibly tight slides down his shaft, inch by inch, swallowing him whole. His breath stutters. The wet spot blooming at the front of his dress pants is impossible to hide now; he angles his body behind the guy in front of him, praying nobody notices.

Another squeeze. A rhythmic drag. Something soft and spongy kissing the tip over and over and over.

His vision whites out for half a second. He breaks formation without permission, muttering a choked “bathroom” to Gideon’s startled face, and bolts.

He barely makes it to the nearest restroom, slamming the lock, back hitting the door as his trembling fingers rip his belt open. The second his cock springs free it’s flushed angry red, leaking like a faucet, veins bulging exactly the way you spent hours customizing.

He doesn’t even touch himself.

He doesn’t have to.

The feeling slams into him again: tight, wet heat clenching around him, riding him hard, fast, merciless. Invisible hips slam down, grind, pull up, slam down again. His balls draw up so tight it hurts.

“F-fuck—!” The moan tears out of him; he slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes rolling back, hips jerking into empty air like he’s fucking someone bent over the sink in front of him.

Every thrust feels real. Too real. He can feel slick walls fluttering, a cervix nudging the head on every brutal stroke, the phantom slap of skin on skin he’s never actually heard but somehow knows by heart.

His knees buckle. He grips the porcelain with white knuckles, forehead pressed to the cool mirror, panting like he’s running a marathon.

“Ah—shit—stop—please—” he doesn’t even know who he’s begging.

The pace only gets rougher.

He comes without warning, a broken cry muffled against his own arm, thick ropes painting the sink, the mirror, his dress shirt. His cock jerks and jerks like it’s being milked by a throat, a pussy, something greedy and possessive and familiar.

The orgasm doesn’t stop. It rolls straight into another, smaller but sharper, and his legs finally give out. He slides down the door until he’s sitting on the cold tile, cock still half-hard, twitching with aftershocks, cum dripping down his fist even though he never stroked himself once.

Chest heaving, he stares at the mess in dazed horror. “What the fuck was that…?”

Three hundred miles away, you’re still sprawled on your bedroom floor, impaled on the toy, whispering his name like a prayer while it throbs inside you.

Neither of you has any idea the link goes both ways. Yet.

Every night for the past ten days it’s the same ritual.

You stumble through the door still in your sweat-drenched hunter uniform, kick off your boots, and don’t even bother with the lights. The second the bedroom door shuts behind you, clothes hit the floor in a frantic trail. You’re already soaked before you even touch the toy, thighs slick, pussy throbbing like it’s been counting the hours until you get home to it.

You keep the dildo in the top drawer now, wrapped in one of Caleb’s old flight academy T-shirts like a dirty little secret. The moment your fingers close around the warm shaft it pulses, eager, like it missed you just as badly.

And three hundred miles away, Caleb starts sweating through whatever he’s doing.

Day 4

You ride it reverse on the desk chair, feet planted wide, rolling your hips slow and deep just to feel every vein drag inside you.

In Skyhaven, Caleb drops an entire tray of coffee in the cadet mess, doubles over the table with a choked gasp, thighs clamping together while his cock leaks helplessly into his boxers. Gideon has to drag him out by the elbow while Caleb stammers something about food poisoning.

Day 6

You’re on your knees in the shower, toy suction-cupped to the tile, slamming back onto it until your ass is red and the water runs cold.

Caleb’s in the middle of a night-flight simulator run. Mid-loop his whole body locks up; he yanks the stick too hard, fails the exercise, and spends ten minutes curled in the cockpit seat coming untouched while the instructor screams over the headset.

Day 8

You can’t wait anymore the second you get home. You don’t even make it to the bedroom. You drop onto the hallway floor, legs over your head, fucking yourself with both holes now—the replica so slick from your pussy it slides into your ass easy. You scream his name until your voice cracks.

Caleb’s in the barracks laundry room folding clothes. One second he’s fine, the next he’s on the floor, biting his own forearm to stay quiet while his cock jerks and feels violated by invisible forces. He comes so hard his vision blacks out. When he can move again he finds the crotch of his pants soaked front and back and has no explanation.

Day 10

You’re greedy. You strap the toy to a pillow, mount it like you’re riding him for real, hands braced on the headboard, hips snapping down so hard the bedframe slams the wall in rhythm.

“Gege—fuck—harder—please, I need—”

You sob it into the dark, tears streaking your cheeks, pussy gushing all over the silicone balls.

In Skyhaven, Caleb is supposed to be asleep. Instead he jerks awake in his bunk with a wounded sound, sheets twisted around his hips, cock so hard it hurts. The sensation hits like a punch: tight, wet heat swallowing him to the root, grinding, milking. Something inside him —his ass—clenches around nothing and everything at once. He shoves his face into his pillow and comes instantly, whole body convulsing, biting down so hard he tastes blood.

When it finally fades he’s shaking, drenched in sweat, heart hammering like he just ran ten miles.

He drags a trembling hand down his stomach and finds his cock still-hard cock slick with his own release and something else—slicker, warmer, smelling faintly smelling like you.

For the first time, real fear cuts through the haze. Because whatever is doing this to him isn’t random. And it’s getting stronger every night.

Caleb hasn’t slept properly in twelve days. Every night the “ghost” comes back. Every night it rides him harder, tighter, wetter, like it’s learning exactly how to unravel him.

He’s stopped trying to fight it. He just locks his door, shoves his face into his pillow, and lets the phantom cunt milk him dry while his cock leaks and his ass clenches around nothing and his brain short-circuits with the same voice that’s haunted him since puberty.

Your voice.

He’s started jerking off to the memory of it in the showers, biting his own fist so his bunkmates don’t hear him whimpering “pipsqueak” like a prayer.

He’s losing his fucking mind.

So when he’s alone in the dorm common room at 0300, half delirious, cock still half-hard from another unsolicited orgasm, he does the stupidest thing he’s ever done in his life.

He googles the symptoms.

Ends up on the same neon-pink, virus-looking website you found weeks ago.

The banner screams: FEEL LIKE SOMEONE YOU LOVE — NOW WITH REVERSE SYNC!

He doesn’t read the fine print. He’s too tired, too desperate, too turned on.

He uploads the clearest photo he has of you—last summer, you in that sundress, laughing at something he said, hair sticking to your sweaty neck.

He customizes everything with shaking hands,outer lips soft and plump, exactly the way he’s imagined a thousand times when you walked around the house in tiny sleep shorts. Inner walls textured like crushed velvet, tight at the entrance, then fluttering deeper. Clit hood pronounced, sensitive node swollen —because he’s spent years pretending he doesn’t notice how you squirm when he hugs you too long enough. Warmth setting: “always soaked, like she’s been thinking about you all day.” Scent module: the exact peach-and-vanilla body wash you’ve used since you were fifteen.

He pays triple for overnight shipping. The box arrives two days later while the entire barracks is out on a weekend training hike. Caleb locks himself in his room, heart hammering like a jet engine.

He tears the packaging open with his teeth. Inside, nestled in black satin, is the prettiest pocket pussy he’s ever seen.

Soft, dusky outer lips, flushed pink inside, already glistening with the self-lubricating gel. It’s warm to the touch, pulsing faintly like it’s breathing.

He exhales a broken “fuck… so pretty…” and runs two fingers down the seam, parting the lips gently. The toy quivers. A bead of lube rolls out like it’s already wet for him.

He doesn’t make it to the bed.

He drops into his desk chair, sweatpants shoved down to his hips, cock springing out thick and flushed and already dripping. He drags the head through the slick folds once, twice, coating himself, groaning at how realistic it feels.

Then he pushes in.

The sound that rips out of him is inhuman.

Tight, hot, velvet walls clamp down instantly, sucking him deeper like they’ve been waiting years. The inner texture ripples around his shaft exactly the way he’s fantasized your pussy would—fluttering, squeezing, dragging over every vein.

He bottoms out in one brutal thrust and his vision whites out.

“Fuck—pipsqueak—” he chokes, hips jerking helplessly. “Is this how you’re supposed to feel? So good—so fucking real—”

He starts slow, savoring it, pulling out until just the tip kisses the entrance, then sliding back in with a wet squelch that makes his balls draw up tight. The toy makes obscene sounds—soft, wet, exactly like a real cunt taking cock—and every noise goes straight to his spine.

He loses control fast.

Hands gripping the desk, he starts pounding into it like he hates it, like he loves it, hips snapping hard enough to rattle the chair. The pocket pussy sucks him back in on every stroke, walls fluttering wildly, clit hood bumping his pelvis on the downstroke.

“Take it—just like that—fuck, you’re so tight for me—”

He doesn’t notice the way the toy seems to clench harder when he says your nickname. Doesn’t notice the way it gushes fresh slick every time he groans “good girl” under his breath.

Three hundred miles away, you’re in the middle of a lecture at the Hunter Academy when your body suddenly locks up. A phantom cock—thick, burning hot, veiny—slides into you from nowhere. Your pen clatters to the desk. You slap both hands over your mouth to stifle a scream as invisible hips slam forward and bury something huge to the hilt inside you.

Your pussy spasms around empty air. Your clit throbs like someone’s grinding against it. Your chair creaks as your thighs snap together, trying to trap the sensation that isn’t there and is there all at once.

The “ghost” fucks you right there in the lecture hall, in front of thirty other cadets, relentless and deep and merciless.

You cum biting your own wrist so hard you leave teeth marks, tears streaming down your face, soaking through your panties and the seat beneath you while the professor drones on about wanderer migration patterns.

Back in Skyhaven, Caleb’s losing his mind in a different way.

He’s hunched over the desk now, one hand braced, the other brutally fucking the toy up and down his cock, chasing the edge.

“Gonna—fuck—gonna fill you up, pipsqueak—take every drop—”

He comes with a guttural shout, hips stuttering, cock pulsing so hard the toy overflows. Thick ropes of cum spill out around his shaft, dripping down the silicone lips, painting his fist, the desk, his thighs.

The pocket pussy keeps milking him through it, walls fluttering like it’s trying to drain him completely.

He slumps forward, forehead pressed to the cool wood, panting like he’s run a marathon.

The toy gives one last gentle squeeze… almost affectionate.

And somewhere far away, you’re curled in the academy bathroom stall, legs shaking, pussy still twitching with aftershocks, a flood of cum you didn’t make leaking out of you in thick, warm pulses.

You both whisper the same thing at the exact same second, voices hoarse and wrecked and terrified,“What the fuck is happening to me?”

—

—

The entire summer break is a slow-motion torture.

You arrive at Bloomshore first, two hours early because the Academy let out sooner than DAA. Grandma hugs you so hard your ribs creak, pinches your cheeks, stuffs you full of peach cobbler and gossip. The childhood house smells exactly the same: sun-warmed wood, sea-salt breeze, the faint lavender sachets she still keeps in every drawer. Your old bedroom is untouched, posters curling at the corners, the same twin bed you used to share with Caleb when thunderstorms scared you.

You dump your suitcase, unzip it, and there it is: the dildo, wrapped in one of his old flight-school hoodies like contraband. It’s been two days since you last used it and your body is already twitching, thighs pressing together every time you remember how it feels.

You shove it under the mattress and try to be normal. Then the front door opens downstairs and you hear his voice.

“Gran squeals, “Caleb, my handsome boy!”

You freeze halfway down the stairs.

He’s… bigger. Shoulders filling the doorway, hair longer and tousled from the wind, sunglasses hooked in the collar of a white T-shirt that clings to his chest. He’s grinning at Gran, but the same crooked smile that’s been haunting your wet dreams for months.

Then his eyes flick up and find you. “Hey, pipsqueak… and Gran.”

Your stomach flips so violently you almost trip on the last step. You launch yourself at him anyway, because that’s what you’ve always done. He catches you mid-jump like you weigh nothing, arms banding around your waist, laughing low in his chest as you collide.

“Yup, gege’s here. How’s my meimei doing in Linkon, hm?”

The second his palm settles on the back of your head, petting like when you were kids, every filthy memory slams into you at once—the toy stretching you open, the way you sobbed his name into your pillow, the phantom cum that leaked out of you for days afterward.

Your face ignites. You feel the heat of his body through his shirt, the flex of his biceps as he holds you, the faint cedar-and-jet-fuel scent that is just him. You jerk away like you’ve been electrocuted.

“Huh… me? …oh… uh… good! I’m doing… good!!!”

Your voice cracks on every syllable. You practically sprint past him, suitcase banging against your leg, and disappear into your room so fast you almost take out the coat rack.

Caleb stands there frozen, arms still half-raised, cheeks flushed crimson for reasons he refuses to examine.

Gran raises an eyebrow. “You two are acting mighty strange.”

He clears his throat, grabs his own duffel, and mutters something about needing a shower.

That night neither of you comes down for dinner.

You lie in your childhood bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars you stuck on the ceiling together when you were ten, thighs clenched so tight they ache. You can hear him moving around in the room next door, the creak of his old mattress, the low thud of his bag hitting the floor.

You wonder if he brought it too. You wonder if he’s touching it right now. Across the wall, Caleb is wondering the exact same thing about you.

Both toys are hidden under respective mattresses, pulsing faintly like they know they’re finally under the same roof as their match.

The air-conditioner rattles. Crickets hum outside. The house is asleep.

Neither of you sleeps a wink. And somewhere in the dark, two identical warming circuits kick on at the exact same moment, waiting for someone to break first.

The first night back home, the dam breaks at 2:17 AM.

You’ve been tossing in your childhood bed for hours, sheets tangled around your ankles, thighs slick and aching from the constant low thrum of need that started the second you heard his laugh downstairs. The house is silent except for the distant crash of waves on Bloomshore’s cliffs and the faint creak of floorboards in the next room.

He’s right there.

Walls so thin you can hear him breathing if you press your ear to the plaster.

And under your mattress, the toy waits, warm and heavy and calling to you like a siren.

You give in with a muffled curse, fishing it out, fingers trembling as you drag it between your legs. No prep. No teasing. You’re already dripping, have been since that hug, so you just line up the fat head and sink down in one brutal slide.

The stretch is immediate and vicious, your pussy clenching around silicone veins like it’s starving. You bite your pillow to stifle the moan, hips rocking slow at first, savoring the drag, the way it kisses your cervix on every grind.

In the next room, Caleb jolts awake with a strangled gasp.

His cock—already half-hard from dreams of you—suddenly feels like it’s being strangled in velvet. Tighter than ever. Hotter. Wetter. The phantom walls clamp down so hard his vision spots, every ridge and flutter magnified tenfold, like whatever’s fucking him is twice as desperate tonight.

He scrambles for his duffel under the bed, yanking out the pocket pussy with shaking hands. No way he’s enduring this alone. He shoves his boxers down, spits into the toy’s slick entrance, and thrusts in without mercy.

The second he bottoms out, you scream into your sheets.

It’s like a second cock slams into you alongside the first—thicker, hotter, splitting you open from the inside. Your walls flutter wildly, stretched beyond reason, the dual sensations overlapping in a filthy symphony: the toy’s familiar curve grinding one spot while the phantom one drags against another, both pounding in perfect sync.

“F-fuck—gege—what—” you whimper, confused and wrecked, hips jerking up to meet nothing and everything. Your clit throbs like it’s being sucked, your ass clenches around air that feels full. You shove the dildo deeper, faster, chasing the burn, tears leaking down your cheeks as your body tries to process being double-fucked by ghosts.

Caleb’s teeth sink into his own bicep to keep from roaring loud enough to wake Grandma.

The toy is a vice. His cock feels like it’s being crushed in the best way—walls so tight they might snap him in half, rippling and milking with every brutal thrust. It’s wetter than before, slick gushing out around his shaft like the thing is coming alive, and every time he pulls back it sucks him in harder, deeper, the inner texture fluttering like a heartbeat.

“Pipsqueak—shit—too tight—gonna break me—” he growls through clenched teeth, one hand braced on the headboard, the other fucking the toy up and down his length so fast his arm burns. His balls slap against silicone with every snap, heavy and aching, the pressure building so intense he’s terrified he’ll black out.

You both lose track of time, separated by one flimsy wall, fucking your toys in frantic rhythm without knowing you’re fucking each other.

For you, it’s endless—the dildo splitting your pussy while the invisible cock mirrors every move, stretching you to your limits, making you gush so hard the sheets are soaked beneath your ass. You come once with a muffled sob, clenching around both, but it doesn’t stop—the sensations only amp up, phantom veins dragging inside you, a second head nudging spots that make your toes curl.

“More—gege, please—fill me up—” you beg the dark, fingers flying to your clit, rubbing frantic circles while you slam the toy home again and again.

Caleb hears something—a faint, wrecked whine through the wall—and it snaps his last thread.

He flips onto his back, legs spread wide, and fucks into the pocket pussy like a man possessed. The tightness is agonizing now, walls constricting so hard around his cock he swears it’s going to cut off circulation—hot, pulsing, fluttering like it’s alive and greedy and his. Every thrust sends sparks up his spine; his free hand claws at the sheets, hips bucking off the mattress.

“Take it—fuck, just like that—my good girl—” he rasps, voice hoarse, imagining your face, your body, the way you’d look split open on him for real.

The orgasm hits you both at the same instant.

You arch off the bed with a silent scream, pussy spasming around double fullness, squirting in thick arcs that drench your thighs and the toy. The phantom cum floods you—hot, thick, endless—leaking out around the dildo, pooling between your legs, making everything slicker, messier.

Caleb comes with a guttural “fuck—pipsqueak—” bitten off against his fist, cock jerking so hard the toy overflows instantly. Cum spills everywhere—his stomach, the sheets, the silicone lips stretched thin around him—but the walls keep milking, squeezing tighter than humanly possible, wringing every drop until his balls ache and his vision tunnels.

You both collapse in sweaty, trembling heaps, toys still buried deep, aftershocks rippling through you like shared electricity.

The wall between your rooms might as well not exist.

But neither of you moves. Neither knocks. Neither dares whisper the truth.

Instead, you pull the covers over your ruined body, the dildo still twitching faintly inside you, and pretend your heart isn’t pounding loud enough for him to hear.

Next door, Caleb does the exact same, cock softening in the vice-grip of the toy, a single thought looping in his wrecked mind,

Tomorrow night, he’s doing it again.

And so are you.

© CHERRYSCRIPT 2025 — don't copy, translate, feed my work to ai

[sinkuna]

Caleb is clueless to how big his dick is ♡

୨୧ ― Caleb has spent his entire adolescence and young adulthood rejecting every admirer who threw themselves at him- returning their homemade lunches, turning down their confessions, never once letting anyone get close enough to touch him like that.

He was too focused. Too loyal. Too busy dreaming about the girl who'd grown up beside him, the one whose birthday made up half of his passwords.

His girl.

And now, finally, after all this time, he has you exactly where he's dreamed of you for almost a decade- beneath him, looking up at him with those wide, trusting eyes.

God, she's really here. She's really letting me-

His internal thought cuts off when he hears your sweet voice.

"C-Caleb-," you whine pitifully, fat tears beginning to bead along your lower lashes as you squirm beneath him in his apartment you've slowly been turning into a home... "I- I don't think-"

"What's wrong?" He sounds almost boyish in his confusion, purple eyes soft with concern as he brushes sweaty hair from your forehead, "Did I do something-"

"S'too big."

He blinks, tilting his head like the adorable idiot he is, "I'm... no, I'm sure I'm average? I mean, I haven't really compared, but…" his words trail off…

Caleb can do nothing but stare...

How your poor little cunt is struggling, quivering, lips stretched obscenely trying to swallow the first few inches of him...

His length is ridiculous- he realizes that now with sudden, dawning clarity, watching nearly half of his shaft still jutting out from where your bodies meet.

Despite how wet he's gotten you with his fingers and tongue and desperate grinding- despite the slick mess coating your inner thighs, the way you'd gushed around two of his knuckles, the way you'd soaked his chin when he'd eaten you out… you're still barely able to take him.

He'd always assumed those whispered comments from classmates back in high school were idle gossip. Locker room flattery he was too humble to believe -even now during showers on the fleet-. Girls giggling behind cupped hands, guys clapping his shoulder with that knowing look...

But now-

Fuck.

Now he understands as he watches you try to adjust.

Watching how your belly flutters with each shallow breath, watching your thighs tremble where they're spread wide around his hips. Watching the visible bulge of himself pressing up against the soft give of your lower stomach when he sinks another inch deeper and you let out this broken little whimper that makes his balls tighten.

He's ruining you. Reshaping you. Your tight little hole wasn't built for this, wasn't made for a cock this fat, this long, this mean- and he can't decide if the thought makes him want to pull out and apologize or grab your hips and bury himself to the hilt just to watch you fall apart.

"Shh, shh, hey." His voice has dropped low, rougher than you've ever heard it, and there's something dark flickering in those usually playful eyes. That possessive edge he's hidden for years, now surfacing as he stares down at where his thick cockhead is trying desperately to sink into your fluttering hole, "I've waited so long for this, Pips... For you. We're going to make it fit, okay? I'll take care of you, just like i always have."

His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing away the tears that threatened to spill. So gentle. So caring. So him.

And then his other hand pins your hip to the mattress as he snaps forward, burying every fat inch inside you in one brutal thrust.

"AHHH- CALEB!!" Your scream tears through his quiet apartment, back arching clean off the sheets as your cunt is forced to stretch around him, walls clenching and spasming helplessly against the intrusion.

It's too much -he's too much-, splitting you open on a cock that has no business being attached to a man who watches you like that. All soft, starving devotion. A loyal pup at the feet of its goddess, even while he wrecks you.

"Pips- oh, fuck, there we go," Caleb groans, and his voice is absolutely wrecked, those pretty eyes rolling back slightly as he bottoms out. His pelvis grinds against yours, the root of him stuffed so deep you can feel him in your goddamn stomach. "You're so tight- shit, is it always like this? Is this-"

"Y-you're my f-first too, you idiot," you sob, and something breaks in his expression.

First. I'm her first. She waited for me too.

"Oh, Pipsqueak," he breathes, and now both hands are cradling your face while his hips stay perfectly still to let you adjust. His cock twitches inside you, and you keen. "My sweet girl. I didn't know. I didn't-" He drops his forehead to yours, breath ragged, "I thought- I would've been gentler, I would've-"

"N'just-" You gulp for air, body quaking, "just stay still. M'need to -hah- adjust"

He nods, pressing apologetic kisses all over your tear stained face while his massive length pulses inside your stretched out cunt. But even as he soothes you, that darker part of his mind is calculating.

If I keep her on my cock long enough... if I fuck her through it over and over... her body will learn. She'll mold to me. Only me. She won't be able to take anyone else after this...

Good.

And when your walls finally relax enough for him to move, rolling his hips in a slow, devastating grind that makes your eyes roll back... Caleb learns something else about himself that night...

He was never going to be satisfied with gentle.

˚₊‧꒰ა. 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[poisonf0rest]

Big Bad Wolf!

♱⋅── valko x reader

♱⋅── about: valko gets turned on when you beat him in play fighting, especially when you get a little rough? Yes or yes?

♱⋅── wc: 3.2k

♱⋅── warnings: mdni. smut, breeding kink, scent kink, knotting, mate mentioned, dry humping, sub!valko, puppy coded valko, size difference, we love big subby men

One hundred forty-three rounds later, and you’ve finally won.

Every bulging, sweaty muscle strains as you laugh on top of Valko for the final lunge, pinning him by his throat and waist into the mats below.

“Haha, and that’s victory for me!”

He grumbles in response, pouting although you see the ghost of a smile curl against his lips. “Ya right. You tripped me, dirty little minx.”

You coo at his adorable sulking, “Big bad wolf can't handle a little bit of dirty play?” Pressing your forearm harder, you watch something dark flicker in Valko’s eyes as his breath stutters. “Don’t you know your enemies will be ready to exploit your every weakness?”

The room is filled with both of your ragged breathing, sweat dripping between your tanged bodies, undoubtedly soaking through your bra and shorts. The air sticks to you, hot and sticky.

Valko takes a deep inhale, chest rising under your palm, before going unnaturally still. The stillness of a predator ready to jump.

You tense, anticipating him to wrestle you off and begin the next match, and yet it never comes.

No. Instead, you’re met with the unmistakable feeling of something growing harder, larger, pushing up against your clothed ass.

The flush on your face is no longer just from exhaustion.

“Did you- are you—”

Valko’s whine cuts you off, his eyes screwed shut as if in horrible pain. “Don’t. Please.”

He’s trembling. Every hulking muscle under you straining as his enormous palms come up to cup your thighs, nails digging in.

“I just,” Valko lets out another whine, pitched and desperate, his amber eyes snapping open and begging up at you no better than a puppy would. “Ah shit, you’re so perfect. Fight perfect, smell perfect,” one broad hand goes to your ass, squeezing hard enough to pull a startled yelp from you, the sound shooting through him like another strike. “Feel perfect.”

Fuck.

Something about losing to you, about the ache blooming through his body where your blows had landed, the solid weight of you pinning him effortlessly into the worn training mats… perhaps it should have bruised his pride or made him fired up.

Instead, it leaves Valko fucking dizzy.

Your scent surrounds him, swallowed with every inhale Valko takes, intoxicating and cloying on his tongue as though he could taste you already. It’s sweet and a little spicy, like cardamom or amber, filling his brain with static as his every instinct narrows down on you and your body. To lay claim. To take.

He doesn't mean to keep nuzzling into your sweat-slicked body. One breath isn't enough, then another isn't either, every deeper pull filling his head with a pleasant, humming need that leaves less and less room for coherent thought.

Acceptance.

Need.

Mate.

Despite your full weight still pinning him to the floor, Valko's hips buck sharply up into yours, nearly throwing you off him. But his hand tightens against your ass, forcing you down into the movement at the exact same time he grinds his still-growing erection right up into your clothed pussy.

You both moan at the mere contact.

More. He needs more.

His hips don’t stop moving, pushing up into you with quick little rabbit thrusts, Valko’s head thrown back in a deep, unashamed moan as he chases the friction. His jaw opens, nearly drooling, about to manhandle you into a better position to grind against when you lean back down.

And slap him right across the face.

Immediately, he freezes, blinking and shaking away the shock and arousal from his face. His cock jumps from between your thighs, though, and that’s all the confirmation you need as Valko looks back up at you with wide eyes.

“Behave, puppy.”

You place your hand around his neck, grinding your hips backward as you watch Valko’s eyes roll back.

“I won,” you remind him. “That means you listen to me.”

He nods with so much enthusiasm you almost worry about his neck.

“Yeah, yes. Of course. I can take it, please.” Anything, anything for you to keep touching him.

Your hips are flush against his, grinding up and down just like you would be if you were riding him. The thought alone has Valko moaning louder, completely uncaring if anyone heard, voice hoarse as you squeeze his throat tighter.

It’s teasing both of you to insanity, so close and not nearly close enough. Friction hot and pressing right up against your clit, but doing nothing to ease the growing ache between your thighs. It doesn't help that the outline of his dick is enough to grind on, wide enough to part your lips and feel strain against your clothed pussy. Fuck, imagining all that power, that size stretching inside you…

You’re no better than animals in heat, gasping and panting as your hips never stop moving, spine arching as his tip catches your clit. “Ahhh, good job, baby, making me feel so good. Good boy.”

Valko keens at the praise. “Thank you, thank you. I’m your good boy, I’ll be such a good boy.”

He’s drooling as he writhes beneath you, nails clawing into the floor with the restraint it takes not to flip you over and rip your shorts off before fucking until both of you pass out. Bite and mark you as his. Fill you with his seed until he’s shooting blanks, watch you drip with his cum, push his knot inside you and cum again and again and again—

You laugh. Poor thing doesn’t even realize he’s moaning all of this out loud.

“Shhh, I’ll let you, puppy.” Leaning down, you kiss him just to shut him up, licking into his open mouth. “I’ll let you breed me.”

“Fuuuck yes.”

Valko’s tongue shoves into your mouth, hot, invasive, lapping into the kiss. You let him, kissing with teeth and tongue, spit spilling down the side of his mouth as he takes more and more. He bullies himself closer, greedy for every scrap of attention, chasing each inch you’re willing to give and always reaching for one more.

“I’m sorry, feels so good, too good.” Valko groans, every thrust becoming more sloppy, and you can tell from how sloppy his kisses are and the unevenness of his thrusts that he’s already close.

You click your tongue as though reprimanding a spoiled pet before breaking the kiss, hand tightening around his throat.

Valko breaks away instantly with a sharp gasp, chest heaving. His eyes snap to yours, dazed and teary, as though being stopped is its own reward. “Sorry, m’sorry. Please keep kissing me, please, I’m sorry.” Another whimper. “You said you’d help me, ya? P-please baby, let me cum.”

“And let you stain my favorite gym shorts with your cum? I don’t think so, puppy,” you scold, teasing your fingers up his rough undercut.

His breath catches so abruptly his whole body gives a tiny, involuntary jolt, shoulders loosening beneath your hand as a slow shiver rolls down his spine at the mere touch. If his ears were manifested, they would be pulled back, his body chasing the sensation before his mind could catch up, leaning instinctively into your palm like some half-domesticated thing desperate for another touch.

Every instinct urges him to reclaim your mouth, to grind back into your clothed pussy, but he forces himself still. Because that’s what you’ve taught him to do.

What a good boy.

Lifting your hips, Valko sobs at the loss of your heat. Your free hand reaches down instead, shucking down his sweat-drenched shorts and boxers in one tug, his cock bouncing out from its confines.

It springs against Valko’s abdomen with a wet slap, every bulging, veiny inch a sensitive pink, tip swollen and leaking all over his pretty red happy trail.

Valko whines, bucking into the air, “Please-ohhh-please let me in you. I’ll make you feel s’good, I’ll be so good. Ah fuck, come on.”

Something, anything to release this unbearable pressure swelling up at the base of his dick.

So you slap him again, and this time the second the crack echoes across the room so does his moan. A fresh spurt of pre-cum stains his abs, so much leaking and spilling down his stomach, you’re damn near concerned.

“Shh, don’t be too loud, someone might hear how desperate you are, baby.” You kiss his forehead and strip.

First you peel off the sports bra, then kick down your shorts and panties, smiling at Valko’s star-struck expression before dropping back down completely bare onto his muscular thighs.

“Come here, puppy.”

He obeys immediately, sitting up faster than humanly possible and ramming his lips onto yours, hands fighting to cup your breasts before he thinks better of it and curls them against his sides into trembling fists.

You hum into the kiss, guiding his hands up to your skin, “Go on, you can touch me.”

Two massive arms engulf you. Valko’s already nuzzling into your bare chest, mouthing at the lines of sweat collected from your sports bra, hot tongue dragging against every inch of skin. There’s no rhythm, no logic, just sloppy licking between your breasts before sucking at your nipples, around and up until he’s at your collarbone, every sensation so overwhelming that you feel yourself soaking his thigh.

“M’sorry, can’t stop. Taste so sweet…” Valko’s licking another long strip up your neck before finding a spot that makes you whine, nipping and teething at it while his hands come up to pinch and roll your swollen nipples. You moan at the feeling of it all, hips rolling against his quads as he purposefully tenses the ridges of muscle underneath you, letting you grind against him.

Once again, the two of you are humping each other like dogs, except this time there’s no more clothing to get in the way.

Your bare cunt envelopes his throbbing cock, every movement heightened by loud, wet sounds of the two sliding together, pseudo fucking in a way that drives both of you insane. The taste and smell of you is overwhelming, Valko dipping his head to suck at your nipple while bucking up into you, abs flexing, drenched with sweat and your combined slick as his cock drags past your clit, pressing desperately right up against your cunt before slipping to your ass and coming right back again.

His frustration is becoming obvious. Low growls muffled into your chest as grinding turns to proper thrusting, tip ramming at your entrance just too thick to push in and your thighs too slippery to find purchase.

“Shit! it’s not– not fitting. Please, let me in.” He’s begging, drooling against your chest. ”Please sweetheart, please doll.”

You want it just as badly. So you tug on his hair, pulling Valko on top of you as you lie down, and slowly turning yourself around until your chest is pressed into the training mats beneath you.

Valko’s frozen like a predator just narrowed in on a prey.

Except that prey is you. Your teasing smile lured him in, and your bare, dripping cunt presented to him like heaven mere inches from his drooling face.

Arching your back deeper, you smile as you finally give him what he’s been dying for. “You’ve been such a good boy for me, Valko, ya? Wanna knot me?”

He’s barely breathing, golden eyes glowing slightly as they lock with yours, unblinking. “Yes.”

Then, he pounces.

In a blink, his six-foot-something body slams into yours, shoving your face into the floor, one arm effortlessly forcing your ass higher to meet his hips and the other pinning your back into a deep arch to accommodate the weight of his chest now pressed against your spine.

Completely mounted, your muscles scream from the stretch and pressure his body gives, his heavy cock still leaking violently from between your spread thighs, thrusting between them, a puddle of his pre-cum splattering down between you.

You laugh into the mats, right where you want to be as you goad him into taking all that he wants and more. “Go on then, puppy. Claim me, take me, make me yours—!”

You can’t even finish your teasing before Valko bullies himself inside you with one violent thrust. Hands dig grooves into your thighs, pawing at your ass, stomach, chest, all while pulling you backward into every powerful thrust.

Valko’s head drops with another unashamed moan, tongue lolling out to lick at your nape and spine, drooling with every tight flutter your walls squeeze around him. God, you’re gushing. He’s glued to the mess where your bodies meet, your ass bouncing with each thrust, taking him so perfectly he’s losing his mind.

“Ohhh you feel so good.” Pressing deeper, his hand snakes around to press against your lower stomach, feeling the outline of his dick as you scream into the floor. Valko groans, babbling into your ear as his hips snap faster. “I know pretty thing. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He’s repeating it against your neck between licks and nibbles, still not letting up any of his force. You feel something unmistakable swell against the curves of your ass, knocking against your cunt and thick enough to hit your clit too, each slap making you sob from pleasure-pain.

“Gonna f-fuck my little mate full of my cum, then eat you out, then fuck you again—oh fuck. Love you and this perfect pussy,” Valko’s slurring his words, talkative as ever and loud enough for the entire training facility to hear him moan.

His thrusts turn deeper, unable to part with your heat, his knot grinding furiously against your clit as you feel your body begin to tremble. “She’s takin me so well, so tight. Mhmm I’ll fill her well, give her everything she wants, fuck her full-full of my knot.”

God, he needs to shut up or you’re going to cum.

“Shh,” you hush him before breaking into a moan. “Too loud, Valko. Someone could—ahh fuck—hear you!”

Oh, but he can’t! He can’t, not when he finally feels your pussy begin to cream around him with your impending orgasm, almost wet enough to take all of him and his knot! This is what you want too don’t you see? This is what his pretty little mate needs.

Valko can’t even comprehend what he’s saying anymore, just growling and moaning into your neck as he drops his arms to properly rub at your clit and tug at your sensitive nipples, biting down into the junction of your shoulder and neck as you squirt all over his thighs with a pitched scream.

“Good pup, good mate, keep cumming for me.” Valko licks at the pin-pricks of blood blooming from his bite, going right back to babbling into your ears as his thrusts turn rougher. “Ready to take me, have my knot, my cum, oooh youfeelsogood.”

In a last attempt to muffle your boyfriend's horny sobs, you squirm beneath him to grab your gym shorts and stuff Valko’s mouth with them, gagging him with the sweat-stained spandex. And he simply takes it, open mouth drooling all over your clothes as he gets drunk off the scent of your sweat and arousal stained into them.

You both gasp at the feeling of his knot finally pressing into your entrance, the swollen, heavy weight of it forcing you several more inches open before slipping back out. Again, and again.

Instinctively, you run away, like a bunny cornered by a wolf, writhing underneath him as Valko snarls, hands engulfing your hips entirely as he drags you back onto his cock, forcing you still with so little effort it's laughable. Nothing stops him from pressing in deeper and deeper, your poor cunt finally yielding to his knot, the burn making you drool into the floor as Valko moans into your makeshift gag.

It’s forever and only seconds, your orgasm-sensitive pussy drooling enough to help him slide in fully, greedily sucking up every extra inch he gives you until you both feel the pop! of his knot finally catching inside you. It presses every damn inch inside you so perfectly you cum again, wailing and trembling as your thighs begin to go limp.

No matter, Valko just holds you up anyway. It’s not like he could pull out of you now, even if he wanted to. Not until he filled you with his cum, at least.

You’re still shaking from the prolonged orgasm, and Valko lets the rest of your body fall to the floor, following you down until his body is smushed atop yours, pressing you both into a mean prone bone.

It just makes him feel bigger. Your head is spinning with all the sudden pressure, his fat tip kissing your cervix as he rocks back and forth, his knot still grinding into that squishy spot against your walls, the heat and weight of his chest pressing into your back, and of course, his muffled moans and rambles still going strong even through your panties.

“Cum, Valko.” You’re barely thinking straight either, already right at the edge again as Valko’s thrusts turn sloppy, his body shaking. “Fill me up, b-breed me. Become mine.”

He’s cumming.

Valko whimpers into your neck as his hips snap one last time into yours, grinding as you feel the warm gush of his release spurt violently inside you, filling and filling and filling you up. So much, too much. Too much that cum squirts out from even the tight plug of his knot, dripping down both of your thighs even as Valko whines at the waste.

He doesn’t seem to fully realize he’s done, still rolling his hips into yours, each one powerful enough to drag your bodies tangled along the floor.

“Nooo, Valko,” you whine, trapped under his weight and still inflated with his knot. “Valko, stop, sensitive! Too sensitive.”

Your hands helplessly shove and push backward at the enormous man lying on top of you, not even budging him as he continues to nuzzle himself into your sweat-slicked back.

Finally, you manage to yank your clothes out from his mouth, releasing him from the gag as he simply sighs in pleasure, licking and nipping at your ear before dragging his tongue in a long, messy line down your neck.

“You’re so heavy. Get. Off!” Each word is a shove, but Valko only laughs at the effort. He does take mercy on your poor abused body though, and grabbing your waist with one hand, rolls the two of you over. You now rest on his plush chest instead, both of you heaving as you lie still pumped full of his knot and cum.

“M’sorry, guest instinct just took over there, y’know? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“...You rabid dog.”

“Hehe, woof.”

[thalwri]

IN HEAT

synopsis: valko is in deep heat with the supermoon occurring, and he wants a solution that requires restraints, a collar, and you.

warnings: valko is in heat, sub!valko, good boy!valko, collar use, bondage, riding, overstimulation, biting, licking, scent marking, edging, knots, rutting, monsterfucking.

wc: 2,3k

a/n: i love him already, he's such a cutie. he deserves endless cuddles, BE NICE TO HIM! i want to devour him. I NEED HIM TO EAT ME OU– enjoy a pre-release celebration of our handsome wolf, valko!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

He must be in heat. that’s the only way Valko can describe this feeling. The moon has been full for less than an hour, and he’s already twitching. Usually he can handle himself. But that’s not gonna work out well for him if all he can think about is you.

Your scent is delicious, beyond the scented lotions and perfume, he’s talking about your natural aroma, amplified by sweat and other smells your body emits. It draws him in. He can’t help but sniff the air every time you walk past him. His cock won’t stop twitching in his pants, tenting at the sight of you catching his gaze.

Valko wants to bite you. Valko wants to slather you with his saliva until you smell like him. He wants to rut his cock so deep inside you, cuddle you so close and keep you so warm with his hot body that you just have to call him a good boy.

“…ko,” He must be imagining you saying his name so nice and breathless.

“…alko.” There it is again, louder, your nails could drag down his back until he bleeds and he’d thank you.

“Valko!” He blinks, the mirage of a heated embrace disappearing from his perception to be replaced by your fingers snapping very close to his face. Such pretty fingers, he wants to lick—

“Yeah?” His voice is gruff and hoarse, almost like he’s keeping a whimper tight in his throat. His leg bounces as fast as his heart pounds his chest. You’re so pretty, with your pretty parted lips, and how your saliva keeps it just wet enough to shine in the warm lamp light. So plump for him to kiss and bite—

“As I was saying,” You pull your hand away, not hearing the small whine that leaves him from the lack of contact. “We need to make sure you’re comfortable for the next few hours. You said you can get agitated when there’s full moons, right?”

“Mmh.” Better a grunt than a moan. You brush it off assuming the effects of the celestial event are starting to mess with him internally.

Of course, you’re well aware that he’s got an extra pair of fluffy scratchable ears on the top of his head, an even fluffier tail protruding from the base of his spine, and sharper canines. You’re not ignorant. 

What you don’t know is that he’s much more prone to getting heated in these hours. Especially in the presence of someone who his body, mind, and soul are attuned to completely. It’s you. You're that someone.

But he has to behave for your sake. He can’t be bad, he can’t be too rash and aggressive or he might scare you off. You might not like it. But he wants you so damn bad, he can’t even hide it anymore. 

You’re rattling about restraints, something to tie him to incase he goes berserk.

Restraints. Belts. Muzzle. Chair. Tie him to a chair. He wants you to tie him to a chair.

He wants you to restrain him. He wants you to sit on his lap and feel how hard his cock is for you, feel it throb just below your cunt, grind his hips up to you still so retrained and held back that he has to beg you to ride him. He might as well ask for it. 

“…unless that’s too extreme.” You mutter, expecting a response. Nothing. Did he zone out again? What’s going on with Valko to be so distracted? He wasn’t like this last month. “Look, I know the full moon can be a messy time for you, and now that it’s a supermoon it could be worse, but I’d prefer you to actually respond— oh.”

Valko is drooling. Valko’s eyes are glazed over. Valko is blushing beyond relief. And Valko is sporting a rock hard boner.

The silence that stretches between you would have been uncomfortable, it should have been. But you seem to enjoy the rough pants that escape his lips, how his hands are balled into fists to keep himself at bay. How the veins on his neck are far more prominent now. 

You sink your teeth into your lower lip, hoping you won’t say anything foolish. 

“Don’t laugh.” Valko grits, his fluffy ears drooping a little. 

“I wasn’t going to.” You say, trying to ignore the fact that your lips are twitching into a smile.

You glance down from his agitated golden eyes to his neck, to his large muscular chest covered by the black tank you always find so attractive on him, to the taper of his waist, to the pulsing print of his cock bulging against his pants.

Now that you think of it, you two haven’t shared the bed recently. You’ve both been so busy with work that neither of you have had time for each other. And you’ve been very wound up these last few days.

“I think we should figure out what restraints will be good for you.” A purr follows your words as you rest your hands on his chest. Muscular, warm, huge chest that you love to sleep on. You’re making this much, much worse and you know it. You can hear it in the groan that rumbles in his chest. 

“Oh, is it getting worse?” You play an aloof demeanour, reaching to caress the soft ears on his head, making sure to rub on that sensitive spot where his hair is its softest. A soft moan escapes Valko’s lips as his golden eyes flutter closed.

“Please…”

“What do you need me to do, my love?” Your lips ghost the shell of his fleshy ear, tongue peeking out to trace the shell. He shudders, head lowering to give you more access, hips rocking towards you so you can feel just what you need to do. 

You don’t want that, though. He has to say it.

“I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”

A pained moan rushes right into your ear as he drops a part of his weight on you. Valko doesn’t want to say it but he also wants to say it. It doesn’t make sense. This heated state is driving him insane, and you’re giving him such a clear path to relief. But what he wants is different from what you usually do… will you agree?

With a shaky breath, Valko nuzzles the side of your neck, mustering the will to confess his desire. “You have to tell me no if you can’t do it.”

“I will.” You reassure him, stroking his soft hair. His arms wrap tight around you, grounding himself in your presence as the words unknot themselves to flow out.

“If you’re grossed out—“

“I won’t be grossed out, Val.” You softly say, rubbing circles into his lower back. “Nothing about you grosses me out. I trust you, so you need to trust that I’ll handle whatever you need and that I’ll tell you if I can’t. Outside of cannibalism, I'm not doing that.”

That makes him chuckle. “You’ll tell me the second you’re uncomfortable?”

“The millisecond.”

His next request comes out more sheepishly. “You’ll tell me I’m doing good?”

“I’ll put a poet to shame.”

“Pull my hair?”

“Put a collar on you too if you’re feeling feisty.”

A sigh of relief escapes Valko’s lips. Oh, he loves you. Finally, he pulls his face away from your neck to level your gaze with fresh determination on his face. “I want you to tie me to the chair, and ride the shit outta me.”

Ask and ye shall receive, as you hear them say.

It was easy to put Valko on a chair especially when he's drunk on your kisses, hungrily biting marks into your bare chest and stomach, gripping your hips so tight you’d think he’s terrified that you’ll run. It was easier to get soaked just from watching him strip for you— that, and having his fingers curl so good inside your cunt as he slurped and lapped at your clit.

The only ‘difficult’ part was restraining him to the chair, legs, arms, and torso roped tight, and that’s just because he’s antsy whenever the full moon happens. 

But something about this supermoon has got him more riled up than usual. Why, you ask?

You’ve been bouncing on the man’s cock for two hours. 

You’re not complaining, you love every second of this. Your walls are fluttering around him as he slides in and out of you so easily, caught by you keeping his fat tip inside leaking all that sticky, hot precum before you drop into his lap again and again and again. 

“Val— ooh, fuck!” Your praise has otherwise become mush, slurred moans of his name and whatever adulation could come to mind. Valko doesn’t mind since he isn't doing any better. If anything, he’s lost the need to think.

“S-So good,” His throat is torn from how loud he’s been, his hips jutting into you even with his thick, corded thighs roped down to the chair. His tail is slapping the floor, his fluffy ears are twitching. He can barely move, limbs strapped down and a collar wrapped around his neck at his own request. And he loves it.

He wants to cum so bad. But then he’d end up swelling so much that he’d be stuck for hours, just grinding and grinding and plugging his seed inside instead of feeling you slap down on him with each rise and fall of your full hips. He wouldn’t have your soft breasts bouncing in his face, or feel your hands scratch his undercut and pull his hair, or hear the hiccups in your voice or the ragged moans in his own.

Why make this pleasure so short-lived when he can prolong it? 

His cock is leaking like a faucet, keeping him smooth and wet for you to use him as you please, pulsing with the desire to just release. His sacks are drawn up tight, literally clenching with enough cum to repopulate a country, and yet he still won’t give in.

Valko drags his tongue up your jaw all the way to your cheekbone. “ ‘m I fuckin’ you good?”

“Hah— mhm. Such a good boy.” You ramble into his lips as you kiss him, slipping your tongue inside to taste him as if he isn’t all that you can sense. “So big and thick and hot… so— Valko— so full ‘f you, want you deeper, you’re so good!”

You’re on orgasm number five by now, gripping onto Valko’s strong shoulders for dear life, back arched, tugging his hair like you want to rip his red locks off. It’s the supermoon, you tell yourself, it must be shooting his stamina through the roof.

It fucking has to be if he’s been rutting into you like a bullet train without cumming even once. His girth twitches with every rock of your plush hips, it leaks and weeps inside you every time you squeeze him hard enough to cut off his blood flow. It has to hurt, prolonging his climax for this long.

Valko likes it that way. He likes the hurt. He likes the way his body just responds to you so well, like you’re made for each other. You have to be.

Your knees are starting to ache. Your thighs are burning from the constant bouncing up and down his thick length but the feeling of him dragging through your walls with each vein pressing against your walls is too good. The overwhelming bump of his cockhead kissing your cervix may just tip you over the edge again. The fucking curve of his cock and the angle just lets him reach the sensitive nerves of your g-spot so good every damn time!

You love these fucking supermoons.

“Valko,” You hum, licking his lips then his chin and jaw, your breath heavy as you maintain your pace. Just a few more and you’ll be in pure bliss. But you need him there with you. “I’m close. I’m so close. Hnn, need you— cum with me.”

“You— oh, you sure?” He whimpers, nuzzling you as you lick the tears off his cheeks. “I’ll—“

“Knot me, mhm.” You nod, rubbing your nose into his cheek, inhaling his scent. This man’s frenzied behaviour has been rubbing off on you too much, not that there’s reason to complain. “You’re gonna swell up so fuckin’ thick, yeah?”

He nods. “Gonna plug all that cum in me, keep it warm inside while you grind ’n rut into me?”

“Yeah,” He affirms, his arms pulling against the restraints. Is this what you want? You want him to bond with you to that much of an intimate extent? You must truly love him. “ ’m gonna stay in you the whole night, snug inside. But I like when you ride me.” You can feel him pouting as he pecks your skin. So cute.

“Then you’ll be a good boy, right?” You coo, your hands cupping his face as you press your thumbs on his lower lip. “Cum with me, and stay inside all night.” You fight every urge to give in to the pleasure when he bites your fingers.

You suck his upper lip, letting your moans vibrate into his. “Can you do that for me?”

Valko’s a simple man. You ask for something and he’ll give it to you with a smile. Like he is now, canines bared, tongue lapping at your fingers before he attacks your lips with a bruising, hot kiss. He pulls away just for a second to mutter against your mouth, “I love you.”

“I know, baby.” You huff, smiling into the kiss as you scratch his fluffy ears. Valko’s hips rut up faster and you can feel his cock swell at the base, almost ready to be plugged into you. Oh, he is so going to eat his cum out of you once he’s soft. “Now be good and cum with me.” 

[cumchiato]

୨୧ — You were drooling, eyes rolling back as you dug your nails into his shoulders trying to slow Valko down. Useless. Your legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his lower back as he drove into you, his name falling from your lips like a prayer between desperate pants.

“V-Val- hhahh- Val-ko- s'too- m'gonna- too m-much-“

Words? What were those? Your brain had turned to mush about three orgasms ago.

A whimper caught in your throat. Tears pricked at your lashes at the stretch, at being so fucking full, like he'd shoved your organs aside to make room.

“Hah-“ His voice broke, and you could feel every muscle in his body trembling, fighting something feral as his tail lashed wildly behind him. “Tryna be gentle but you-“

He fucked you like a beast anyway. Forehead pressed to yours, ears flat against his head, panting into your mouth. Your slick made the filthiest sounds every time he thrust home and when his teeth found your neck hard enough to break skin, the noise you made had his rhythm stuttering.

“Sorry- ngh- didn't mean-“ But he didn't stop. Couldn't.

His hand slid under your back, arching you up into him. The other pinned your wrist to the mattress. Blood smeared across your throat from his lips.

“That's it, that’s my good girl-“ Completely gone. Ruined.

You came screaming and do you think that made him slow down? Fuck no. He didn't slow down even a little.

“Again.” Barely a whisper. Begging. Pleading for just one more scream from those pretty lips…

“Valko- can't- no more-“

His ears drooped, this wounded little sound in his chest, “I know babe, m'sorry-“ His hips snapped forward anyway, “what’s a pup supposed to do? You just feel so good- cant- shit- can’t stop-“

Your cunt was a sloppy, ruined mess at this point- syrupy strings of your cum and arousal coating his cock, smearing creamy across your inner thighs. You could feel yourself dripping between your ass, making a puddle beneath you.

Then something big started pressing at your entrance.

You felt it before your sex stupid brain could process it- this thick, swelling pressure at your already stuffed hole. Stretching you wider. Wider. Too wide-

His knot.

It shoved inside with a wet POP and you shrieked, back bowing clean off the mattress, nails carving bleeding trenches down his spine. The sudden fullness -that fat bulge locking him in, plugging you up, pressing against every sensitive nerve- had your vision whiting out again. Your cunt spasmed around him, another orgasm cresting before the last one even finished, milking his knot in desperate fluttering clenches.

“Huh? What happened?” Total confusion. His ears shot up, head tilting, “You alright babe? Did I do something?”

“Your- your fucking knot- fuckfuckfuck-“ you choked out.

“What?” He blinked down at you, all golden puppy eyes while his monster sized knot split you in half, “What's wrong with it?”

“Ser -seriously? Sh’too- It's s’too big-“

“It is?” As he smirks he shifts his weight and you damn near passed out, “seems fine to me?”

You laughed -or sobbed, hard to tell- and it broke into a moan when he rolled his hips experimentally. You grabbed his hand and shoved it down between your bodies, pressing it against the bulge in your lower belly. Obscene. Fucking obscene.

“Valko.”

He looked down. Blinked. His tail started wagging. Actually wagging!

“Oh wow.” Like he'd found something mildly interesting, “That's pretty crazy.”

“YEAH.”

“Does it actually hurt?” He pressed against the bulge with genuine curiosity and your eyes nearly rolled back into your skull. Tail still going.

“Do you- hahh- do you seriously not know- how huge-“

“Dunno, never measured?” He dropped a casual kiss on your forehead, sweet as anything, while his fat fucking knot throbbed like it was trying to reshape your insides. “Always been like this. Annnnd those noises don’t really convince me you’re in pain.”

You were gonna fucking murder him. Right after you finished losing your mind on his cock.

He ground down into you and you came so hard you forgot your own name, pussy clenching around him like a goddamn vice.

“Oh- shit- shit-“ Finally cracking, his voice going high and whiney, “Squeezing me so tight, you’re gonna make me-“

He buried his face in your neck and came with a broken whine, and you felt it- pulse after pulse of hot cum pumping into you, filling you up til your belly rounded out even more. His arms caged you in, tail thumping against the mattress as he bred you full.

“S'good,” he slurred against your throat…

“Valko,” you whimpered, brain leaking out your ears., “M'so full-“

“Mm?” He sounded so pleased with himself.

Still absolutely clueless.

Way later -who even knows how long- he was still on top of you, weight braced on his elbows so he didn't crush you. His knot pulsed lazy and another warm gush filled you up.

“Hey,” he mumbled into your hair, and you could hear the grin in his voice.

“Mm.”

“So...” His fingers walked playfully up your side, making you squirm- which only made you clench around his knot and whimper, “You think my knot's big, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“Nah but like-“ He propped himself up to look at you, smirking, tail swishing, “You were really loud about it. Pretty sure the neighbors know now.”

“I hate you.”

“Mmhm.” He rolled his hips just slightly -enough to make you gasp- and his grin widened. “That why you're still milking my cock right now?”

Your face burned, “I- I can't- it's involuntary-“

“Sure it is.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, nuzzling, “S'okay baby. I think it's cute how much you love my huge knot.”

“I never said-“

“‘S'so fucking big Valko,'”he mimicked in a breathy voice, and you smacked his chest while he snickered. “'Your knot Valko, oh my god-“

“I do NOT sound like that.”

“You kinda do.” Another lazy grind. Another gush of cum. His eyes glittered. “Wanna hear what else you said? Got real creative toward the end there.”

You shoved at his shoulder uselessly. He didn't budge, just laughed and buried his face in your neck, pressing smiling kisses to your skin.

“M'just teasing, babe” His tail curled around your thigh, “youre cute when you're embarrassed.” He nuzzled the tippy top of your head.

“I'm gonna kill you when your knot finally goes down.”

“Mm, that's fair.” He snuggled closer, entirely unbothered, “Gives me like twenty more minutes to annoy you though.”

His hips shifted again, lazy and deliberate, and the noise you made was mortifying.

His tail wagged harder.

[kixtkaxt]

how it feels when you ACTUALLY read the content list in smut

[suksatoru]

—mrs. steal your girl!

sukuna was used to getting hit on. normally, he flat out rejects anyone that even makes an attempt to flirt with him. tonight he's taken you on one of your usual date nights, but imagine his surprise when the woman who approaches your table is hitting on you instead of him!

"ryo. ryo, ryo, ryo, i don't know what to get!" you pout, extending a leg underneath the table to graze your husband's calf as he grunts, brows pinched together in concentration as he stares down at the menu

"doesn't matter. i'm ordering half the stuff they have here anyway... you hungry for dessert too?" he questions, and you give him a deadpan look before he dramatically rolls his eyes, eliciting a giggle from you that has the corner of his mouth tipping upwards in a smirk

"fatty," he murmurs, and you make a point to dig the tip of your heel into his shoe, yet even through the pain, he maintains that annoying grin, and you shake your head with a laugh

the restaurant sukuna chose to take you out to tonight was located on the outer edges of the city near the water. your seating is overlooking the ocean, and you're not sure where you should stare—either at the lapping waves shimmering underneath the sparkling sun, or at your husband (an equally irresistible sight). he's wearing a tight black shirt with the first few buttons open, revealing the intricate details of his tattoos and the large expanse of his muscles and chest

a waitress eventually approaches your table. she's pretty—tall, lean, and wearing a dark red lipstick that suits her well—and you feel your heart sink a bit. you're sure she was staring at your table earlier, and you'd already assumed she was keeping an eye out on sukuna. almost subconsciously, you sit a little taller in your chair as she greets you two

"hello! i hope you guys are doing well. what can i get started?" she starts in an extra sweet voice, and you avoid her eyes and instead drum a single manicured finger against the table to distract yourself

you know you have nothing to feel insecure about, but anyone would feel a bit down if attractive women were constantly hitting on their husband, right?

without looking up, sukuna starts

"i'll have a plate of crab cakes, four fish tacos, one chicken marsala, one miso marinated black cob, two fettuccini pastas, one lobster ravioli, and one lava cake—and the center of it better not be undercooked. my wife doesn't like whenever it happens and i want her dessert to be nothing short of perfection." sukuna finishes, and the waitress looks genuinely distressed as she quickly jots down everything he said

"uhm, and all that is for just the two of you?" she questions hesitantly, and sukuna's gaze snaps up with a scowl

"yeah. and?"

you try to stifle your laughter as she quickly shakes her head with a smile, still writing everything down. your husband was... a bit of a big eater.

"no, no, i was just wondering— oh. did you say wife?" she frowns, and you try not to wince at twinge of disappointment in her voice

"if you were thinking i'm single, you're out of luck." sukuna states boldly, not bothering to give her any further attention as he folds up the menu and hands it to her

"uhm... i wasn't wondering about you. i was wondering about you." — and suddenly her gaze is pinned on you, and your eyes widen a fraction

"me?" you squeak in disbelief, and she smirks. it's cocky and slanted and it instantly reminds you of your husband's habit when he's teasing you, and you can't even try to hide the smile on your face as you cover it with your hand, caught off gaurd and embarrassed

"yes, you. you are beautiful. so, are you happily married to this guy, or just marri—"

"that's enough." sukuna stammers, and he looks genuinely mortified by the look of curiosity on your face. you giggle, shaking your head

"thank you... you're very beautiful too." you smile, and she actually blushes at your words, telling you she'll be out with your food soon as she walks back inside the restaurant with a lot more pep in her step than before

sukuna reaches over to pull your hand out of your lap and onto the table, and he adjusts your ring with furrowed brows as you giggle

"ryo—"

"i can't believe that woman's audacity—hitting on my wife! when i get home, i am writing the most deplorable review of this restaurant." he snaps as you let out a sudden laugh

"don't be silly, you big grump! she was nice," you smile, and he drags a hand down his face as if this was the worst day of his entire life.

sukuna wasn't used to women hitting on you. no man ever tried because all six feet of your husband was always looming behind you like a guard dog just waiting to rip someone's head off for looking at you too long, but he never suspected he had to look out for women too!

his brows are furrowed as he rubs a thumb over the diamond on your ring finger, and your gaze softens before you cradle his own larger hand in your own and press a kiss onto his knuckles. he blinks at you a few times before turning away with a huff, the tips of his ears a light shade of pink

"you're mine. you'll never indulge in anyone that tries anything with you, right?" he murmurs, still staring at your interlocked hands as you pout

"of course not." you promise gently, and he seems satisfied by your response as he holds your hand firmly in his own

after a moment of thought, he opens his mouth once again

"do you think we should make out to confirm our status for everyone else here?"

"ryo!"

[weiyjling]

let’s bond with a dangerous animal like papa

[ryoride]

ꮼ BUBBLE POP ELECTRIC !

cw : est. relationship, aftercare, sex mentioned, implied mutual virginity loss, fluff, physical affection, slight goofball Denji, slightly suggestive, pet names, teasing, timeskip! denji, & not proofread.

ⓘ Featuring 𝓓𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢... proposes with a ring pop as aftercare !

Denji's hands shook slightly as you lay down on his chest. He was slowly catching his breath & quickly wrapped an arm around your hip & stroked the soft, bare skin.

He was keeping his thoughts away from what the two of you'd just done: how good you made him feel, how good he'd made you feel, how surprisingly gentle he wanted to be & God, how pretty you'd sounded.

He'd never heard anything sexier in his whole life.

Nothing he'd imagined before could even compare to how exhilarating it felt.

The only thing that kept him from jumping up, running around & gushing about it was how perfect you looked pressed up against him. He couldn't ruin that.

"You okay?" Denji whispered, hand pausing as you lifted your head to smile at him; the smudged mascara on your cheek sent a spark through him.

Fuck… You looked even prettier looking at him like that.

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm okay. Just… processing, Denji." You hummed, lulling your head back against his chest. "Not every day… that happens."

"God, I'd like it to." Denji blurted out, freezing up as he realized what he'd just said; the thought of getting to do that daily sent his blood rushing south, & he adjusted the blanket over his lap subtly.

"Hey! No!" You hissed jokingly, swatting at his crotch over the blanket. "I meant… firsts, Denji. Goodness, keep it soft."

"Aw, baby!" He pouted, swatting your ass lightly. "You tease me too much. I thought you wanted it daily."

Denji pressed a quick kiss to your temple as you huffed. "I didn't say I wanted that or not, you know; you're imagining things." You rested your hand firmly against his abs. "Just, keep doing that thing with your hand from earlier—it felt like heaven."

Not a second later, he was back to caressing your hip again, slower this time as he watched your peaceful expression grow softer.

Denji took a slow inhale before kissing your temple again. "That was amazing, you know? I'm glad it was with you. I needed that more than you know."

You leaned up with a soft giggle escaping your lips, cupping his jaw before catching his lips in a quick kiss. "You, my love… are a total dork…" You stopped, a fluster growing in your demeanor, before tucking yourself back against his side. "I'm glad it was with you, too."

"Hey now, this dork was driving you crazy not ten minutes ago." He teased, bringing his free hand to caress your cheek, dragging you up to meet his gaze.

"Baby! No!" you hissed, curling the blanket up. "Don't just talk about it; that's so embarrassing." You shoved your face against his smooth chest with a huff, almost pinning him down.

"Is this your way of keeping me in place? Do you want to cuddle?" Denji mused, stroking your back slowly. "You could have just said that."

"Fine," you sighed, adjusting yourself on top of him to nestle comfortably into his shoulder. "My body still feels like it's floating, & you, you're so warm, & for whatever reason, cuddling's making me feel better... plus, can't you feel my breasts like this if we stay still?"

Denji let out a short snort at your words before freezing up as you glared at him. "Oh! No, no. Baby, that was sweet. It's just funny—you think you need to bribe me with boobs, so I'd cuddle? I'd do anything you asked, boobs or not."

He huffed out another snort. "Thought you needed to let me feel em' to cuddle. Please. Anything you want, just tell me, okay?" He mused, pulling you closer as his grin grew wider.

"Denji, you know how I love you so, so, so much?" You mumbled, nuzzling against his shoulder as he nodded.

"Yes? I like to think we make it very obvious to each other how much we love one another." He purred, grasping the plump flesh of your ass teasingly before quickly rubbing your hip again. "You make it quite clear at least," Denji whispered, tucking the blanket over your shoulder.

"Well… after sex, the participants are typically quite tired. They take a breather... share a snack, physical affection, I don't know, talk while they reregulate..." You explained, trailing a hand up his chest, rapping your fingers slowly. "I'm dying to just cuddle until my legs don't feel all tingly anymore."

"Oh. Oh. Oh." Denji's eyes slowly widened, and a crimson blush quickly filled his cheeks. "Oh my god, baby, I can't believe I didn't even think about getting you a snack." He groaned, dragging his free hand down his face before moving to stroke the small of your back. "Do you—"

He cut himself off, moving to sit back up, before you dragged him back down next to you. "Let me put this simply: move, and I'll bite you until you lie back down." You hissed, leaving your boyfriend speechless as he blinked at you.

Fuck that was new—but why did he kind of like it?

 "I have some candy in my drawers, chocolate bars, gummies, lollipops, Ring Pops, anything you want, I probably have." He explained, motioning to his nearby nightstand. "I won't have to get up."

You huffed out a laugh against his skin, the sensation of the blowing air sending a quick spark up his spine as his eyes fluttered.

You knew just how to ruin him.

"Yeah… I'd like something sweet." You nodded lazily, almost nuzzling into him as he swung aimlessly at the nightstand, tugging the drawer open just enough to pull the baggie of miscellaneous candies out

"So… you think you're going to be like this every time we have sex?" He whispered, a slight hint of tease lacing his tone. You could tell he wasn't against the idea from how much he was melting into your touch, following your skin with each slight shift.

"Mm. No, I don't think so." You sighed, lazily blinking up at him & stroked his cheek. "I think this time I just don't want you to go since you know… tonight's special."

He let out a quiet hum at that, pausing to think for a moment as he placed the bag of candy between your stomachs.

"Yeah?"Denji nodded, taking out a chocolate bar & motioned for you to grab yourself something. "That's good to know."

 You peeled yourself off of him with a sleepy huff, before wiping your cheeks lazily & planting a quick kiss to his jaw, letting him sit up beside you.

You fished out a pack of gummies, ripping them open & passing him one just as he opened the chocolate bar. "You're so sweet, Denji. Most guys wouldn't have tried… God, they're just not you." You sighed, bumping your shoulder against his.

You peeled yourself off him with a soft huff, wiping your cheeks lazily before kissing him on the cheek.

You grabbed a pack of gummies, ripping them open & handing him one as Denji opened his candy bar. "You're sweet, Den. Most guys aren't as... well, they're just not you." You hummed, bumping your shoulder with his.

He smiled, lazily bumping you back. "Yeah? Well… you're sweeter, love." Denji sighed dreamily, popping the gummy in his mouth, "When you want to be at least." He tore you a piece of his chocolate before sinking against the heardboard

"You see why snacks are so important?" You teased, slowly brushing through his hair. "It's domestic. You know, some people can ever make the after better than the sex.'

Denji leaned into your touch as soon as the caress came, sending you a quick pout with a quiet whine. "I'm doing this right… right?"

The look he shot you was soft yet guarded, like he was prepared for you to tell him he was doing this entirely wrong.

You froze, tugging playfully on his hair, ignoring the crimson flooding your cheeks once more before nodding. "Yes. You've done… exceptional, in both departments, Denji."

"Yeah?" His eyes lit up & he placed the half-eaten candy bar on his nightstand. "So it's been… special?"

"Idiot," you groaned, tossing another gummy in your mouth before tracing his jaw slowly, admiring the soft skin. "Yes. I don't know how else to word it. You've made tonight very special for me, Denji. I only hope I've made it as special for you."

"With how you said my name earlier? Nothing will ever be as special as that for as long as I live." He mumbled, kissing your wrist, his soft lips causing your eyes to flutter.

Fuck, why was he so good at doing that?

"Hey! No—god—that's embarrassing, Denji." You hissed, swatting at him playfully before he caught your wrist & kissed up the flesh slowly.

"I meant it," he assured, locking eyes with you. "I don't think anything can compare ever again. You are a masterpiece, and I'm lucky to have felt you."

"I'm… wow." Your voice cracked, eyes welling up with tears as Denji pulled you closer. "Keep this up and I'm marrying you one day, idiot."

"Please?" he whispered, bringing his hand up to push your hair away from your cheeks. "Please."

That's just not fair.

"Fuck, you can't just say 'please' like that, Denji," you rasped, grasping his hand to intertwine your fingers together as you blinked back the threatening tears.

"Why not? Is it working?" He pouted, giving your hand a quick squeeze as you nodded. "Then why would I stop?"

"Because I'm tired, and you're looking at me like that, saying 'please' about marrying me is not going to help me sleep tonight." You huffed out, Denji slapping around his lap for a moment till you heard the crinkle of the candy bag.

"Just a second." Denji tore his eyes away from you and nearly dumped the snacks out, looking for something until he pulled out a ring pop.

"We're having a moment, and you decide it's lollipop time?" You sighed, fighting back a fit of giggles at his furrowed brow. "Jesus, babe."

"Hush for a second." He groaned, letting go of your hand so he could properly rip open the packaging & hold up the Ring Pop.

"Uhm… Okay?" You nodded, resting your hands in your lap, nodding for him to do whatever on earth he was doing.

"Y/N, L/N. I've known for a while how much I love you. But until tonight, it hadn't fully clicked to me how deeply it ran, and now you've teasingly said you wanted to marry me… I'm wholeheartedly admitting it. I'd marry you right now without a heartbeat if possible—will you take this Ring Pop and know how much I love you?"

He rambled on, & with each heartfelt word, you felt the tears you'd fought so hard to get down spill down your cheeks.

"Idiot," you hissed, arms shooting out to crush him to your chest. "You're so stupid sometimes I don't even—God, you're perfect. You're perfect, Denji."

"So… one day, you want to get married?" He whispered in your ear, careful with the ring pop, so you two wouldn't break it in two.

"Yeah… I think we're going to get married one day." You nodded, kissing his shoulder as he grasped one of your hands, slipping the candy ring on slowly.

"Thank you." He whispered in your ear, only for you to shoot back and raise an eyebrow, pulling your hand free before he pulled it back. "Wait—"

"Denji?" You giggled, leaning closer till your noses almost brushed. "Did you just thank me for being open to marrying you one day?"

He couldn't believe himself. He'd just secured the bag of a lifetime & said 'Thank you!' ' right after.

"I mean—fuck—I know you probably didn't want that to be my first reaction to that. I meant thank you for…" He groaned roughly, trailing off as he watched your kind expression. "Thank you for being you and putting up with me."

"Yeah… and I'll gladly do it for the rest of forever. Got it?" You teased, lifting the Ring pop slowly, dangling it before his eyes. "You did this. You're stuck with me."

[ryoride]

⌗ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@sirensdairy @pomegranatesnapples @kirsteinsring @kixtkaxt @lullavi

[togacaffe]

GOJO SATORU : RATING THINGS MY BOYFRIEND DID FOR ME

PAIRING. gojo satoru x female reader

GENRE. established relationship / fluff

IN WHICH you decide to do a viral tiktok trend appreciating your boyfriend. the ultimate hard launch