A/N: so unfortunately msg night 1 did irrevocable damage to my brain and this was the outcome (dare i say there were three outcomes and this is part one...) shout out to sav for workshopping this with me at like 2am every night <3 also i'm aware the lyric is "affection" dw :*
i haven't posted any writing in almost TWELVE YEARS.... so please be kind i do indeed still seek validation/approval LOL
tags: sub!calum x afab reader, no y/n, oral (f receiving), pw no plot (if u squint we can argue that there's a plot), degradation (kind of)
It had been a long week. The days full of appearances at pop-ups and the nights spent preparing for the upcoming double header.
It fuelled him. She could tell. His confidence had grown exponentially over the past few years and she adored it, adored that cocky grin that would drop as soon as she was in front of him.
Bare moments had passed since he had commanded the stage, and he was already on his knees in front of her.
“Please?” He nearly whines, his hand resting on her hip as she leans comfortably against the vanity.
She looks down at him. Cheeks still flushed from the adrenaline, curls damp and sticking to his forehead, plump lips forming into a slight pout – the one thing that always undid her. Her eyes drift back to his, “‘Please’, what?”
The whimper that leaves him is obscene, unexpected from a man of his stature.
“Please, touch me,” his eyes flicker down to her arms crossed firmly across her chest, “I’ve been so good, I-”
“Yeah?”
He nods eagerly.
“If you’ve been so good, why have you been acting like a slut on stage every night?”
His breath hitches. His lips part and close as he tries to process her accusation all while trying to come up with an excuse, because she’s right. He has been acting up on stage, but he swears it’s just for her. All he wants is a little bit of her attention.
“No, no,” he shakes his head furiously, “No, baby, please,” he tugs at the belt loop of her denims, “I haven’t, I swear. You know what happens to me when I’m up there. I just lose myself in the music.”
The laugh that leaves her lips is cruel, but his excuse is pitiful. Almost comical.
“Did you ‘lose yourself in the music’ when you got on your knees for Luke?” His eyes widen, but before he can spit out another excuse she continues, “When you made sure your skirt lifted up after every move? Or maybe when you-”
“Not on purpose!” He cuts her off with a whine. His grip on the waistband of her jeans tightening, seeking any form of stability to ground him before he loses it entirely and starts rutting into the air.
“Had I finished speaking?” Her eyes bore into his.
“I’m sorry,” he winces, head dropping, “I’m sorry, baby. I just- it was all for you. I did it just for you, I promise…” his voice shakes as he continues, “I only saw you, only looked at you… Please…”
He’s always so riled up after a show. Making him wait so long without any contact should be punishment enough. But she likes him on his knees too much.
She finally touches him, her fingers gently carding through the damp curls. He shudders at the contact, body straightening, eyes still trained on the floor. She gives him a minute. When he still doesn’t move, her grip on his hair tightens ever so slightly, making him tilt his head up to look up at her.
The sight is sinful. Eyeshadow smudged around his eyes, from sweat or tears, neither of them knows anymore. Lips bitten raw from trying to keep himself quiet for as long as possible while she reprimanded him. And that look in his eyes that was just as good as him begging for hours on end.
“Poor baby,” she murmurs, his eyes fluttering shut as she gently scratches his scalp, “You did all that just for my attention?”
He nods, subconsciously leaning further into her touch. His skirt hikes up as he moves, the exposed expanse of his inner thighs revealing the marks she’d left on him just days before.
She tugs at his hair gently to bring him to his feet. His eyes follow her gaze to his thighs, heat flushing through his cheeks as he tries to pull the hem of his skirt lower.
“Oh, don’t be shy now,” nudging his hand away with her knee, “That’s what you wanted people to see, hm?”
He looks down, nodding timidly, his fingers toying with a stray thread on the tweed. “Wanted them to know I’m yours,” he mumbles.
“Look at me,” she waits until his eyes are back on her, “You have ten minutes.”
His eyes light up, hand shooting out to touch her before he stops abruptly. He needs to get permission first.
“Can I? Please?”
And with a curt nod his hands are on her, lifting her up onto the vanity as he immediately drops to his knees again. Eyes frantic, fingers fumbling with her jeans, shakily pulling them down before she can change her mind again.
“Slow down,” she murmurs, her fingers finding purchase in his hair.
He does as she says. Placing soft kisses from her ankles to the apex of her thighs, making the most of his allowance. Her breath hitches as he gently nips at her inner thigh, sucking gently on the thin skin. He takes his time, working on her other thigh before pulling back with a proud smile as he eyes his work. “Now we match,” he looks up at her through his dark lashes, pupils blown.
“Mm, we do,” her lips turn up to a soft smile, “Thank you, baby.”
The blush travels down his neck as he squeaks out a meek “you’re welcome” before returning to the task at hand.
His fingers gently trace the developing bruises as he kisses along the lace trim of her panties, taking a deep breath of satisfaction as he finally reaches the spot he’s been thinking about all day.
But she had told him to slow down.
So his lips trail back up to her waist, nipping gently at the skin before leaving a mark on her hip bone. His touch is reverent, the disbelief of her allowing this clear as he shakily moves to the other end of her waist, starting to leave a bruise there too.
“What are you doing?” She hisses, her grip on his curls tightening briefly.
His brows furrow as he pulls back, resting his chin on her thigh to look up at her, “Nothing.”
“You’re teasing.” She huffs frustratedly.
Curls fall in front of his wide eyes as he shakes his head in denial, “I’m not!” Quickly changing his tune when he sees the look in her eye, “I’m sorry,” he whimpers, nuzzling into the space between her thigh and stomach, “I’m so sorry. Just wanna make you feel good. May I? Please?”
Her eyes soften as his arms wrap around her waist, gripping onto her as if she’d slip right through his fingers if he let go even a little bit.
“This could be your only chance to touch me tonight.” Her thumb gently pries at his lower lip as he pulls back with a frown, “You better make the most of it.”
He glances at the clock. He still has seven minutes. That’s enough time to pull out every reaction and sound he’s been dying to hear from her. She can see the gears shifting in his head as he refocuses, nipping at her hip bone again. This time, instead of sucking at the skin, he bites onto the lace dragging it down her legs in one swift motion.
“No teasing,” he reminds himself under his breath as he settles between her thighs again.
His shoulders drop at the sight in front of him, relief flooding his body. He forgets where he is, who he is, as his lips latch onto her.
Once he starts, he doesn’t let go. He can’t. His fingers dig into her thighs, holding her in place, sure to leave bruises along with the marks he had scattered earlier. He laps at her like a man starved, uncertain of when he’ll be allowed to have his next meal. But he knows he’s doing good. He can tell in the way her grip on his hair tightens, the way she arches to his touch, the way she bites the inside of her cheek to keep quiet.
“Wanna hear you. Need to,” he pleads, his voice muffled against her, “Please, let me hear you.”
He can feel her hesitate. He knows he’ll be punished for it later, but it’ll be worth it– so he gently scrapes his teeth against her clit. She gasps, her hips bucking up to his face. The grin she can feel between all the friction is absurd. She tugs his hair as a reminder, whispering breathlessly, “Watch it.”
“Mhm,” he hums unapologetically, the vibration sending a chill up her spine.
He doubles down on his efforts, damned if she leaves unsatisfied at his hands once the time is up. The soft mewls slipping through her lips become increasingly loud, gasping out a moan when he starts to suckle on her. His fingers dig deeper into her thighs, forcing them apart when she tries to squirm away.
His eyes flicker up to her, tongue and lips never stopping, muffling a quiet, “Am I doing good?”
She looks down at him in awe, his eyes wide and wanting as he desperately awaits her response. “So good,” she nods, her voice breathless, “Being such a good boy for me.”
He groans against her, the throbbing pain between his legs sending his hips bucking into thin air at her words. This isn’t about him, but he can’t help himself when she continues to praise his efforts, voice strained from trying not to finish too fast.
“So well behaved until you get on that stage.”
He whimpers.
“But you put on a good show.”
“Only for you,” he moans against her, his knees buckling under the efforts of trying to hold himself back, “Always only for you.”
He nips at her clit, soothing it over with his tongue before suckling on it again, determined to send her over the edge. When her thighs start to tremble around him, he knows she’s almost there. He looks up at her, nose still buried deep, dick twitching as her lips part in a silent cry.
“Please,” he whines, voice muffled against her, “Need it so bad. Let me have it.”
With one look down at him, she’s done. Back hitting the vanity mirror, eyes squeezing shut, scattering the makeup she put on him just hours before all over the dressing room floor. Hips rolling up to his touch, he continues to work her through it. Kitten licks to take as long as possible to clean her up before peppering soft kisses all over her flushed skin.
Once he’s content with his efforts he sits back on his calves, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes crinkling as he smiles up at her, “Thank you.”
She sits up to glance him over, chest still heaving as she catches up on her breath. Her gaze stops just below the hem of his skirt, seeing the evidence of his own satisfaction dripping down his thighs. “Did you–?” The amused look in her eyes sending heat flushing straight to his cheeks.
“Didn’t touch, I promise. Just couldn’t help myself,” he murmurs sheepishly, eyes dropping to the floor.
She laughs, fingers hooking into the collar of his tank to bring him up to her eye level. His hands warily rest on her thighs as he stands between them, lowering his face to hers. Carefully parting his lips with her tongue, she gently nips at his lower lip.
“Think you can be good until we get to the hotel?”
⋆ he can't keep his hands off of you throughout the day. he's constantly looking for excuses to touch you. he'll grab your ass as he walks by, touch your chest, caress your arm, thigh, hip, waist, etc.
⋆ he's open to trying new things with you, especially if it means getting a little rough. you wanna get tied up, gagged, blindfolded, etc? he's your guy.
⋆ calum's really good with his fingers. they're thick, so he likes to stretch you out around them and watch you squirm while you try to take them.
⋆ he makes you beg a lot. he'll tell you it's not good enough, even when it definitely is, just because he loves how it sounds when you're all needy and desperate for him.
⋆ you can never say his name too much. in fact, he tells you when to say it more. "say my name, baby," he tells you allll the time and you happily oblige.
⋆ loves to choke you. whether it's just a little or until you're about to pass out, he gets off on seeing you struggle a little... especially if it's while you're under him, taking his cock.
⋆ ownership. calum likes to leaves marks all over you. he sucks, nips, and bites them all across your skin, everywhere he can. particularly in visible places. he wants to make sure people will see and know that you belong to someone.
⋆ his favorite position is reverse cowgirl. he likes to watch your ass while you ride him and spank it until it's all bruised and sore and you can barely sit the next day.
⋆ he fucks you so good you try to keep quiet by covering your mouth, but he never lets you. he holds your hands down and goes harder, angling his hips just right to make it even more difficult for you to keep it down. he wants to hear you and he will.
⋆ calum has his days where he likes to finish down your throat and make you swallow every drop, suuure, but he's also got his days where he likes to finish on your face and take pictures. something about marking you and humiliating you a little.
hey zoe!! could you perchance write a fluffy calum hood fanfic based on ‘’beside you’’ (in honour of 14 years of self titled 😌). i hope u see this!
───୨ৎ───⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ───୨ৎ───
Of course I can lovely I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Happy 14 years of Beside You!!!
Love Zoe xxx
───୨ৎ───⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ───୨ৎ───
Under the Same Sky
───୨ৎ───⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ───୨ৎ───
───୨ৎ───⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ───୨ৎ───
Calum hood x fem!reader
WARNINGS it is quite long, light angst, long distance, emotional themes, yearning, soft comfort
───୨ৎ───⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ───୨ৎ───
The call came quickly.
Too quickly.
One minute Calum was beside you, his arm lazily draped over your shoulders, the quiet comfort of him something you barely even thought about anymore.
The next, he was packing.
A half-zipped suitcase sat open on the bed, clothes thrown in without much care. He moved fast, like if he slowed down even a little, he might not be able to leave at all.
You stood in the doorway, arms wrapped around yourself.
“You have to go now?” you asked, your voice softer than you meant it to be.
He paused, just for a second.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Flight’s soon.”
You nodded, even though you didn’t want to.
Words felt… useless. Too small for something that felt this big.
Calum glanced at you again, and something in his expression shifted. Like he wanted to say more—but didn’t know how.
So instead, he crossed the room and pulled you into him.
“Hey,” he murmured into your hair.
“Don’t stay too long,” you whispered.
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
He hesitated—just barely—but you felt it.
“…Promise.”
—
That night, your room felt unfamiliar.
Too big. Too quiet.
You lay awake, staring at the ceiling, phone resting on your chest. The world outside moved like normal—cars passing, distant voices—but everything inside felt still.
You wondered where he was.
If he was looking out a plane window, or already somewhere new. If he was thinking about you the same way you were thinking about him.
Your phone buzzed.
Calum: You awake?
You didn’t even hesitate.
You: Yeah
It took a second.
Then your phone rang.
“Hi,” you said, barely above a whisper.
“Hi,” he echoed.
There was background noise on his end—something distant, like an airport or a city that never really slept.
“I hate this part,” he admitted.
“Which part?”
“Leaving you.”
Your chest tightened.
“You’ll come back,” you said softly.
“I know.” A pause. “Doesn’t mean I like being away.”
You shifted onto your side, curling slightly into your pillow. “It’s weird without you here.”
“Yeah?” His voice softened.
“Yeah. I keep thinking I’ll hear you. Or that you’ll just… walk in.”
“I wish I could.”
Silence settled between you again—but not empty. Just full of everything neither of you could quite say out loud.
“I can’t sleep,” you admitted.
“Me neither.”
Another pause.
“Feels like something’s missing,” he said quietly.
You let out a small breath. “Yeah.”
Because it did.
—
Days passed like that.
Different places. Different time zones.
But always the same feeling.
You lying awake. Him somewhere under a different set of lights, trying to find the right words, never quite landing on them.
But he called anyway.
Always.
“Tell me something,” he’d say.
“Like what?”
“Anything. I just wanna hear you.”
So you filled the space between you with little things—stories, thoughts, random details that didn’t matter to anyone else.
But they mattered to him.
Because it was you.
—
One night, your voice got quieter.
“Stay on the phone,” you mumbled, half-asleep.
“I will,” Calum said instantly.
You smiled a little, eyes already closed.
“Feels like you’re here,” you murmured.
He didn’t answer straight away.
But when he did, his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it.
“I wish I was.”
A pause.
“Right there with you.”
Your breathing evened out.
And he stayed on the line, listening to it—like it was the closest thing he had to being beside you.
—
When he finally came back, it wasn’t dramatic.
No big moment.
Just the door opening.
Your name leaving his lips.
And suddenly, he was there.
Real.
Close.
You didn’t say anything—you just ran to him, arms wrapping tight around his middle.
ate a whole package of sugar cookies because it’s day four of my period and i haven’t had ANYTHING sugary i literally cried tears of joy when i took the first bite…
if you are a parent, or may become one, or you are otherwise likely to arrive in the situation of caring for a child while they eat, promise me this: if a child doesn't like a certain food or food group, you will ask them WHY. and specifically, you will pay attention to either confirming or ruling out "it makes my mouth itch" or "it makes my stomach hurt," both of which are medically important info that children may not provide unprompted. which i know because this PSA has been brought to you by "i spent my entire childhood and much of my early teens eating peas and lentils while wondering why everyone else liked the Violently Itchy Mouth Sensation so much, like were they a bunch of legume masochists or something, before i finally realized that Violently Itchy Mouth Sensation was in fact a sinister demon appearing only to me, and her true demonic name was: Legume Allergy"
Two things this website hates and that’s women and gay people who are gay in the “I have sex with other gay people” way and not some sort of thinly defined yearning and homophobic joke based system largely applied to brothers and male coworkers in early 2000s television shows. Three things this website hates actually sorry silly me but this website does hate black people.
2087
pixelskylines
dailybridgerton
izzy806
theartofmadeline
germansingergirl
areudirty
