BRAE FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS AND DYL AND COLE FIND OUT BY WALKING IN ON THEM👺👺👺
𝑨𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅 𝑻𝒐 𝑭𝒖𝒄𝒌 ꨄ︎ (Braeden Lemasters X FemReader)
Content: Smut, Walked In, Interrupted Sex, Brae Has Been Weird Lately, Bella Knows Things, Friends With Benefits,
The door to Braeden’s apartment barely clicked shut before his mouth was on yours, hot and desperate, like he’d been starving for this all day. His hands gripped your waist hard, pulling you flush against him as he walked you backwards into the living room, lips never leaving yours. The kiss was messy, all tongue and teeth, the kind of frantic hunger that made your knees weak.
You pulled back just enough to gasp against his mouth, breathing hard. “Wait— what excuse did you give them?”
Braeden let out a low, breathless chuckle that vibrated against your lips. His forehead pressed to yours, eyes dark and half-lidded with lust. One of his hands slid down to squeeze your ass possessively, fingers digging in.“I told them I was running to the supermarket,” he murmured, voice already rough. “Said we needed more beer and snacks for the night. They bought it like idiots.”
Before you could even laugh at how stupidly simple the excuse was, his mouth crashed back onto yours, deeper this time, tongue sliding against yours with filthy intent. He tasted like mint and the faint trace of the joint you’d all shared earlier. His body pushed you up against the wall, hips rolling forward so you could feel exactly how hard he already was for you.“Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this since we left the studio,” he groaned between kisses, nipping at your bottom lip. “Couldn’t stop staring at your mouth… knowing it’s mine all mine.”
His fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt, palms hot against your skin as he started tugging the fabric upward.It started three months ago after a long, messy night in the studio.
It started three months ago after a long night in the studio.
The four of you had been working on new material until 4 a.m., the kind of session where everything felt electric but nothing was quite clicking. Cole and Dylan finally called it quits and headed out, leaving you and Braeden alone to lock up. You were both wired, buzzing with leftover adrenaline and the kind of exhaustion that makes stupid decisions feel brilliant.
You were leaning against the mixing console, complaining about how your neck hurt from sitting in the same position for hours, when Braeden stepped behind you. His hands landed on your shoulders, thumbs pressing into the tight muscles in slow, firm circles. The touch was innocent at first until it wasn’t. His breath brushed the back of your neck, and when you let out a quiet, involuntary moan, something shifted.
“Been wanting to do that for a while,” he admitted, voice low.
You turned around, heart hammering, and the look in his eyes was unmistakable. No games, no awkward flirting. Just raw, mutual want. You’d always had insane chemistry harmless teasing that had been building for years but that night the tension snapped.
One heated kiss turned into two, then his hands were under your shirt and yours were tugging at his belt. You fucked right there on the studio couch like you’d both been holding back for far too long. It was filthy, passionate, and surprisingly easy. No strings, no expectations. Just relief.
Afterwards, while you were both catching your breath and half-dressed, Braeden looked at you with that crooked little smirk and said, “We should probably keep this between us.”
You laughed, still flushed. “Obviously. Cole and Dylan are the nosiest motherfuckers alive. They find out and we’ll never hear the end of it. They’ll turn it into a whole thing.”
Braeden nodded, tracing lazy circles on your bare thigh. “Friends with benefits. No one else needs to know. We get what we need… and we stay smart about it.”
That was the agreement. Secret hookups when the urge got too strong. Quickies in his apartment, late nights after shows, stolen moments whenever the other two were distracted. It worked. It was hot. And it stayed yours.
No feelings talk. No labels. Just two people who knew exactly how to make the other lose their mind… and exactly how to keep the rest of the band out of it.
Braeden didn’t waste another second. He grabbed your waist, spun you around, and walked you straight to his bedroom with that hungry, determined look in his eyes. The second you reached the edge of the bed he gave you a firm push, sending you tumbling onto the mattress with a surprised laugh that quickly turned into a breathless moan.
“On your hands and knees, baby,” he ordered, voice thick with lust.
You barely had time to push yourself up before he was behind you, yanking your jeans and panties down in one rough motion. He shoved your thighs apart, positioning you exactly how he wanted ass up, back arched, completely exposed for him.
“Fuck… look at you,” Braeden groaned, running his hands over your ass. Then his palm came down hard with a loud smack, the sting blooming hot across your skin.
You gasped, pushing back toward him instinctively.
“Such a pretty fucking view,” he murmured, spanking you again, harder this time. “You have no idea how gorgeous you look like this. Ass up, dripping for me already.” Another sharp slap echoed through the room, followed by his fingers soothing the burning skin. “I love this pussy so much… love how it takes my cock like it was made for me.”
He leaned over you, chest pressing against your back, lips brushing your ear as he ground his hard dick against your ass.“I swear I could spend hours just fucking you like this,” he growled, voice low and filthy. “My pretty little secret. Bent over, moaning my name while those two idiots think I’m just buying snacks.”
He spanked you one more time, firm and possessive, then squeezed the soft flesh appreciatively.“Tell me how bad you want it, baby. I wanna hear you beg before I bury myself inside you.”
Braeden straightened up behind you, one hand still gripping your hip while the other wrapped around his cock. He gave it a few slow strokes, eyes locked on the way you were already glistening for him. Then he started tapping the thick head of his dick against your soaked pussy—soft, teasing little slaps that made wet sounds every time he made contact with your sensitive folds.
“Fuck, listen to that,” he groaned, voice rough with appreciation. “So fucking wet for me already.”
You whimpered, reaching between your legs to rub tight circles over your clit, desperate for more friction. The combination of his teasing taps and your own fingers had you trembling.
Braeden let out a low, filthy chuckle. “That’s it, baby. Play with that pretty clit while I tease this pussy. You look so fucking good like this—ass up, touching yourself for me. My perfect little secret slut.” He tapped his cock against you again, a little firmer this time, letting the head catch against your entrance before pulling back. Each wet slap sent sparks through your body.“You’re dripping down my cock, you know that?” he praised, voice thick. “Such a good girl. So needy and pretty when you’re desperate like this. I could watch you like this for hours.”
You couldn’t take it anymore. Your fingers moved faster on your clit as you pushed back against him, voice breaking into a needy whine.“Brae… please,” you begged, trembling. “Stop teasing— just fuck me already. I need you inside me. Please, I can’t—”
He groaned at your desperate plea, still tapping his heavy cock against your pussy, clearly loving how you were falling apart for him.“Say it again, baby. Beg a little louder for me.”
“Please, Brae… I need your cock,” you begged, voice shaky and shameless. Your fingers kept rubbing your swollen clit as you pushed your ass back toward him. “Stop fucking teasing me and fill me up already. I want it so bad—”
Braeden cursed under his breath, the dirty begging clearly doing it for him. He gripped your hips tighter, lining himself up. Then, finally, he started pushing in slow, thick, and deliberate, stretching you open inch by inch. The moment he sank deeper, your eyes rolled back. A broken moan tore from your throat as your walls clenched around him.
“Fuuuuck,” you gasped, fingers digging into the sheets. “I forgot… shit, I forgot how deep you go like this.”
Braeden let out a wrecked groan, his grip bruising on your hips as he kept sliding in until he bottomed out completely, hips flush against your ass. He stayed there for a second, buried to the hilt, letting you feel every inch.
“Goddamn, you feel so fucking good,” he breathed, voice strained. One hand slid up your back and fisted in your hair, pulling just enough to arch you more. “So tight… so wet… taking me like you were made for it.” He gave one slow, deep roll of his hips, grinding against that spot inside you that made your toes curl.
“Missed this pussy so much,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss the back of your neck. “Now be a good girl and take every inch while I fuck you exactly how you need it.”
Meanwhile, back at Dylan’s apartment…
Cole was sprawled across the couch like a human blanket, legs dangling off the armrest, looking thoroughly unimpressed. On the other side of the massive sectional, Dylan was fully cuddling Bella, one arm wrapped around her shoulders while she rested her head on his chest, both of them wrapped in a fuzzy blanket like they were in their own little world.
Bella glanced over at Cole with an amused smile. “Cole, baby, we love you… you’re literally like our toddler at this point. But why are you still here?”
Dylan snorted, not even taking his eyes off the movie. “Yeah, dude. We’re trying to have a nice night and you’re just… existing loudly in the corner.”
Cole threw a pillow at them half-heartedly. “I lost my keys again, okay? I thought Braeden would be back by now. He said he was just running to the supermarket for beer and snacks.”
Dylan raised an eyebrow, lazily stroking Bella’s arm. “He’s been gone for like… an hour and forty-five minutes. What the hell is he buying, the whole store?”
“Probably got distracted looking at some vinyl or something,” Cole grumbled, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth. “I’m stuck here third-wheeling you two lovebirds until he comes back to open the door for me. This is bullshit.”
Bella laughed softly and tossed another pillow at him. “Poor third-wheel toddler. We’ll adopt you officially if Brae takes too long.”
Cole flipped them off with zero heat, sinking deeper into the couch. “Just… keep watching the movie. And don’t make out too loud. I’m suffering enough already.”
Bella narrowed her eyes a little. She tilted her head, tapping her fingers on his arm.“Wait… okay, hear me out,” she said slowly. “Don’t you guys think Braeden has been acting kinda… weird lately?”
Cole let out a dramatic groan. “Bro, Brae is always weird. That’s his brand.”
Dylan nodded in agreement, pressing a lazy kiss to the top of Bella’s head. “Yeah, he’s been normal-weird. Why?”
Bella sat up a bit, looking between them with that suspicious girlfriend look. “No, not normal-weird. Like… ‘I’m sneaking around and fucking someone I probably shouldn’t be fucking’ weird.”
The room went quiet for half a second.
Cole blinked. “Wait… what?”
Dylan raised an eyebrow, suddenly more interested. “You think he’s hiding something?”
“I’m just saying,” Bella continued, lowering her voice like she was sharing classified information, “he’s been disappearing more often, always with some lame excuse. And the other day when we were all together he kept checking his phone and smiling at it like an idiot. That’s not regular Braeden behavior.”
Cole shoved more popcorn in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Huh. Maybe he’s just… going through a phase.”
Dylan shrugged, pulling Bella back against him. “Or maybe he’s finally talking to someone. But if he’s hiding it from us? That’s cold. We’re his best friends. We deserve to know who he’s railing.”
Bella smirked. “Exactly. So when he comes back with those ‘snacks’… we should interrogate him.”
Cole laughed. “Good luck with that. Brae’s a vault when he wants to be.”
Dylan stopped right at the doorway, turning back to Bella with wide, dramatic eyes.
“Fuck no. No, no, no,” he said, already pulling on his shoes. “If our best friend is out here sticking his dick where it doesn’t belong, we need to know. For his own good. We have to help him.”
Cole raised an eyebrow from the couch, but the chaos was already spreading. “Help him how, exactly?”
“By being there, obviously,” Dylan replied, grabbing his keys. “Cole, come with me. We’re going to his apartment right now.”
Bella sighed deeply, rubbing her temple. “This is literally why he doesn’t tell you guys anything. You two are the reason secrets don’t survive in this group.”
But her words fell on deaf ears. Dylan was already halfway out the door, buzzing with nosy best-friend energy. Cole jumped up, shoving his feet into his sneakers with a grin.
“Fine, I’m in. Let’s go expose Brae’s secret pussy,” Cole said, laughing at his own dumb joke.
Bella just shook her head as they practically ran out like the building was burning down behind them. “At least text me if you find anything interesting! And don’t be assholes!”
The door slammed shut.
Braeden had found a perfect, punishing rhythm, hips snapping against your ass with every deep stroke. He was gripping you tight, fucking you harder now, the wet slap of skin on skin mixing with your desperate sounds.
You were falling apart, mouth open, unable to stay quiet anymore.“Fuck— Brae!” you moaned loudly, voice cracking. “It feels so fucking good… don’t stop, please don’t stop—!”
He let out a low, satisfied growl, one hand sliding up to fist your hair as he drove into you even deeper.“Yeah? You love this cock, don’t you?” he groaned, breathing ragged. “So noisy for me already… that’s my girl. Let it out, baby. I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.”
Your moans only got louder, shameless and broken with every thrust that hit that perfect spot inside you.“Don’t stop— fuck, right there— don’t stop, please—!”
Braeden chuckled darkly, sweat starting to drip down his chest as he kept that relentless pace, loving every single loud, needy sound you gave him.“No, gorgeous,” he growled, voice thick with lust. “I wanna see your face. I want to watch that beautiful face when your eyes roll back for me.”
He pulled out in one smooth motion, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness. Before you could complain, he flipped you onto your back and dropped down beside you on the bed. With strong hands he grabbed your waist and pulled you on top of him, guiding you to straddle his hips. “Get here, baby,” he ordered, eyes dark and locked on yours. “Ride my cock. I wanna see every fucking expression when you’re bouncing on it.”
He lined himself up and helped you sink down slowly, both of you moaning as he stretched you open again. Once you were fully seated, Braeden’s hands gripped your hips tight, staring up at your face with pure hunger.“That’s it… fuck, look at you,” he groaned. “Ride me nice and deep. I wanna see those pretty eyes roll back when I hit that spot just right.”
Dylan and Cole crept up like two idiots on a mission. Dylan immediately spotted the spare key tucked under the usual potted plant and snatched it with a triumphant little grin.“Got it.”
But the second they got close enough to the door, both of them froze.
Clear, unmistakable sounds were leaking through the wood: the rhythmic slap of skin, Braeden’s low, rough groans, and your loud, breathy moans getting louder by the second.
Cole’s jaw dropped. “Fuck… Bella was right.”
Dylan stood there for a beat, then let out a soft, amused chuckle, shaking his head.“She’s always right. That’s why I love her,” he whispered, still holding the spare key like it was a weapon.
Cole looked equal parts shocked and entertained. “Bro… we’re actually hearing Brae railing someone right now.”
Dylan smirked, eyes sparkling with mischief energy. “Should we knock first… or just go in?”
Dylan didn’t even knock. He turned the spare key, pushed the door open, and stepped inside with Cole right on his heels like they owned the place.
The sight that greeted them made them both freeze.
You were on top of Braeden, completely naked, riding him hard — head thrown back, moaning loudly, tits bouncing with every desperate roll of your hips. Braeden had both hands gripping your ass, thrusting up into you deep and fast, groaning your name like he was losing his mind.
For half a second everything went dead silent. Then...
“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!” Dylan yelled at the top of his lungs.
Cole’s jaw hit the floor. “BRAEDEN?! YOU’RE— YOU’RE FUCKING HER?! YOU'RE FUCKING Y/N?! OH MY GOD—”
You screamed, instantly trying to cover your chest with your arms while still impaled on Braeden’s cock. “GET THE FUCK OUT!”
Braeden’s eyes flew open in pure panic. “OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT RIGHT NOW!” he roared, one arm wrapping around your waist protectively while the other grabbed a pillow and launched it at them like a missile.
Dylan was still pointing dramatically. “You’ve been secretly fucking our best friend this whole time?! That’s why you’ve been acting weird?!”
Cole was losing it, half laughing, half traumatized. “I can’t believe this. You told us you were going to the supermarket, you dirty liar!”
Braeden looked ready to commit murder. “I swear to God if you two don’t leave in the next three seconds—”
The door slammed shut behind Dylan and Cole, but the damage was done.
You and Braeden stayed frozen for a second you still sitting on his cock, both of you breathing hard, eyes wide in pure shock. Your face was burning with embarrassment as you hid against his neck.
Braeden let out a long, defeated groan, his hands still gripping your hips tightly.“…Well, fuck,” he muttered, voice rough. “Now they know we’re allowed to fuck.”
You let out a breathless, mortified laugh, still clenching around him. “This is literally the worst way they could’ve found out. I’m never gonna live this down.”
Braeden chuckled darkly, tilting your chin up so he could look at you. His eyes were still dark with lust, even through the chaos. “At least we don’t have to sneak around anymore. No more lame supermarket excuses.”
From the other side of the door you could hear Dylan and Cole laughing their asses off in the hallway, already yelling stuff like “We’re telling Bella!” and “Wrap it up, you animals!”
Braeden rolled his eyes and shouted back, “Go away!” before focusing on you again. His hands slid up your waist, pulling you down harder onto him as he gave a slow, deep thrust up into you.
You moaned softly, the shock quickly turning back into heat.
“So…” he murmured, smirking up at you, “where were we, baby? You were riding me so fucking good before we got interrupted.”
You bit your lip, starting to move your hips again, slower this time but just as needy. “Guess the secret’s out.”
Braeden groaned in pleasure, one hand coming up to cup your face as he pulled you down for a messy, passionate kiss.“Good,” he whispered against your lips, thrusting up to meet you. “Now I can fuck this pretty pussy whenever I want… and I plan on taking full advantage.”
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 ! there will be both sfw and nsfw content in these headcannons but there will be a warning beforehand!
𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ! i hope you enjoy :) thank u for your patience
𝐬𝐟𝐰 !
bf!braeden who loves to bring you around during band practices and can’t help but interrupt himself in between singing just to kiss you.
bf!braeden who is super clingy. like this man can't be away from you for more than ten minutes.
bf!braeden who you have had a thing for since high school and hed always tease you for it.
you were on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when you felt braeden’s presence behind you. before you could react, he snatched your phone out of her hands and held it high above his head. you whined for him to return it to you but he couldn't help but take a peek.
he smirked, tilting his head. “say ‘braeden is the best boyfriend ever, and i’m obsessed with him.’”
you had given up at this point crossing your arms. "never." you smiled.
he raised an eyebrow. “okay, guess ima just have to read these texts out loud — ‘omg, braeden looked so good today, swear he gets cuter every time i see him —’”
you gasped, tackling him onto the couch. “oh my, i did not write that." you lied between your teeth.
he cheesily smiled down at you, "mm baby c'mon we all know."
bf!braeden who always has you cuddled next to him when you sleep.
his hand was wrapped around you hugging you tightly in front of him and somehow you ended up on the edge of the bed. so he wrapped his arm around you again pulling you closer to him and rested his hands there. “stay right here, baby.” he whispered half asleep, kissing your cheek.
bf!braeden who always kisses you in the morning.
you wake up groggily to braeden nuzzled in your neck. you smiled lightly letting your eyes flutter open despite the blinding light shining through the curtains.
braeden lightly places kisses to your forehead, cheek. then finally lips. “morning beautiful.” he muttered with a raspy tone. you tried to push him away muttering something about morning breath but all you heard was a chuckle. “don’t care.” he kissed you again.
bf!braeden who would show up when you least expect it.
you had a long day and just wanted to go home and relax. you couldn’t stop thinking about your bed and right as you were finally walking out of the door to from your class you were surprised to see braeden.
he was always there. surprising you by your car, in your house, outside of your class. holding your favorite everything in hand. “surprised.” he’d always say, with a endless grin on his face.
bf!braeden who when you guys first started to talk during high school would try to hold your hand, even in public.
“what are you doing?” you whispered, looking up from your book and to the side where braeden sat. you were both sitting on the floor in the library studying when his hand reached over and put his over yours.
you shook your head trying not to blush so hard. “what?” he asked, trying to act oblivious and innocent when you both let it go, and his hand was still wrapped around yours.
bf!braeden who always loves to call you his girl, like he’s privileged.
his friends and him were at band practices tuning their instruments when they noticed braeden’s wallpaper changed. “woah braeden, who’s that?” one of them questioned.
as if braeden knew, he responded in a split second. “that’s my girl.” he smiled to himself. you guys weren’t even dating yet.
𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 !
bf!braeden who likes to tease you, especially in public.
you had been running errands and braeden’s hands kept wandering. he’d slip his hand on your waist but not in a stagnant way. he smoothed his hands down your waist. he’d also slip his hand in between your thighs while sitting down.
anything to keep you wanting more and feeling needy but the only thing it got him, was feeling needy himself unable to stop himself from thinking of what he could do to you later on.
bf!braeden who loves to see you get flustered
you clutched braeden’s shirt as he kissed up your neck earning a light laugh from him. “what’s wrong baby?” he noticed how you tugged on his collar. all he got in response was a shaky breath. “gettin’ shy on me angel?” he questioned kissing further down to your chest.
bf!braeden who is definitely a possessive boyfriend
you were looking through the racks of clothing when he noticed someone behind you having a lingering eye. in response, he grabbed your waist pulled you closer, and whispered something he couldn’t say aloud into your ear earning a grin from you.
bf!braeden who doesn’t mine if he’s running late to anything if it’s because of you.
your hips moved back and forth on top of braeden quick and with force. “please — need you to touch me.” you begged him.
he grinned kissing your lips passionately. “we’re gonna be late.” he mumbled but all you did was whine leaving him no choice but to give you what you wanted. “fuck— you’re going to be the death of me one day.”
OVER THE INTERCOM ⠆after seeing wallows live for the first time after listening to them since high school ive been knee deep into them, so here is a product of that :)
song is best friend by laufey!
𝟒𝟏𝟏. what better way to announce your relationship by bringing him up on stage ?
so far, for every show on your tour, you'd bring someone out during your song best friend. it was your ‘sally’ of sorts. the first few shows in, you brought out your close friends, watching their flushed, amused faces as you serenaded them, twirling around the prop bench they sat on. littered between your personal close friends and friends you've made in the industry, best friend was definitely a song your fans looked forward to.
this time you find yourself in san francisco, playing at bill graham. sat in the green room with members of your team, your close friends and your boyfriend. you had just finished sound check and going over a few finishing details for the show when the topic of who was going to be your 'best friend' for the show tonight was brought up.
you tilted your head in thought, pondering on who it could be. you always joked you'd bring your manager on stage one day but they always refused claiming they had stage fright. the room is silent for a few moments, save for the soft static of the walkie talkie the stage manager held.
"what if it was me?" a mellow, balanced voice you knew so well piped in. broken from your reverie, you turn to your boyfriend, braeden sitting next to you. arms splayed leisurely over the couch, dark hair swept over his forehead, wearing your tour hoodie and dark washed jeans. a light smile on his face and hand lifted to the back of his neck, as if embarrassed to even be offering the idea. you perk up at his words, eyes bright and a gleaming smile on your lips.
it wasn’t that your relationship with braeden was new, it was far from it. having been together for almost four years now– you’ve chosen to keep your relationship hidden from the public as your both musicians and wanted to keep your relationship away from the spot light and the prying eyes of fans. your love was something sacred and cherished so you wanted to keep it that way. the idea of him being your ‘best friend’ during one of your shows was always brought up in passing conversation. every time, you both answered in open ended statements– never really giving a definite answer. not to get him wrong, braeden most definitely wanted to be your ‘best friend’ you brought out on stage whilst you sang to him in your pretty, melodic voice. there was also nothing stopping him, really. you came to a point in your relationship that whether it be by a post or coincidence that people found out you were dating, it would be something you’d welcome with open arms. but with his most recent tour and your schedules never lining up he never had to the chance to see you perform on stage, in person. and this show was the only gap in his schedule he could come along so if not now then when?
“really? you’d want to?” your voice laced in excitement, your hand on his thigh whilst the other soothed out his bangs lingering in front of his eyes. when you started the whole thing you always wanted to bring out braeden, he was one of the many people you thought of while composing the song. you had been friends before you started dating and he has seen so many sides of you, he not just your lover but also your best friend. but with how private your relationship has been so far, you didn’t want him to feel pressured to do it, even personally serenading him to the song in the comfort of your own home.
“of course! i’ve been waiting for the day you’d ask me.” he pouts dramatically, making you laugh, the sound soft but bubbling with anticipation. “braeden, i would love for you to be my best friend,” you murmur, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. exchanging knowing glances at the connotation that he’d be your best friend for tonight but really he’s been your best friend since he came into your life and will always be. “then, i’m honored” he smiles, tucking a stray hair away from your face. your friends and team already flowing in conversation on how it’s finally happening.
braeden practically buzzes with excitement as he watches you on stage, standing on the left side with an endearing smile and eyes full of love, watching how naturally you perform and interacted with your fans. the crowd loud, full of cheers and shouts of your lyrics– sure, he’s been on stage countless of times but seeing you was just a different art.
soon the last few notes of your song fades as you make your way back to the center of the stage, a wide smile on your face with the mic in your hand.
“is everyone having fun so far?” you ask, breathless. slipping your in ears out to hear the screams and shouts of your fans, “i have this tradition on tour, for those of you who don't know. every show, during this next song, i bring out someone i love: a friend, a confidant, someone who feels like... my best friend." the crowd cheers. anticipating whats to come as the techs bring out the bench onto stage, the cheering only intensifying.
your eyes flick to the left, behind the curtain where braeden is waiting just out of sight. your heart pounds but not from nerves about performing, but from what this moment means. "and tonight," you continue, voice lilting with uncontainable giddiness, “since san francisco has been so welcoming and loving to me tonight, i thought i’d bring out my special best friend!” the light dims until it’s completely dark as braeden makes his way onto stage, practically skipping to the bench, but only before he gives you a quick peck on the cheek before sitting down, sat directly behind you.
the crowd quiets before the song begins– cheers roar as they wait for you to reveal your ‘best friend’ for the night. the lights shine and fans are already singing along as you sway in your spot.
It's come to my attention / That I don't show enough / Of what I think / It's only when I drink / I open up/ But I promise that I love you
you take a step to the side, revealing braeden. his eyes not on the crowd but to you, eyes bright with a wide dopey smile like you hung the moon and stars. you look at him only to mirror his expression. walking back to stand next to him. your fans already going crazy, screaming at the realization that braeden lemasters, guitarist and singer of wallows is sitting right in front of them with the most lovesick expression on his face. you see some fans clutching their hearts or covering their mouths at the sight before them.
Even with that hairdo / I'm sorry I made fun of it / It's not your fault it looks like shit
you ruffle his hair, playfully shooting a wink at him. he shakes his head a light flush on his face. fixing his hair as you walk away. braeden bites back a grin, shaking his head as if he can’t believe this is really happening. your movements are playful but deliberate: leaning in close, brushing fingertips over his shoulder, circling him like the song was written for just this moment. you step lightly across the stage, letting the words float out, smooth and teasing, your voice warm enough to wrap around him like a blanket. the crowd’s energy shifts — a mix of exhilaration and awe, every phone in the room pointed in your direction, capturing the unspoken softness that hums between you two.
you move back toward him during the next verse, the lights turning a soft amber. braeden’s foot taps with the beat, his hands folded loosely in his lap, but his gaze never leaves you like he’s trying to memorize every expression, every note.
the audience sings along in perfect unison, and you laugh into the mic when the volume of their voices nearly drowns out the band. you glance at braeden again, catching him mouthing the lyrics under his breath- the cutest sight in your opinion
on the instrumental break, you spin on your heel and perch yourself beside him on the bench, shoulder brushing his. the fans go feral — the noise swelling until you can feel the vibration in your chest. he wraps his arm around you as if it's second nature and without missing a beat, you tip your head onto his shoulder for just a moment, a lingering touch that says more than any announcement ever could.
he grins down at you, that same boyish smile that made you fall in love in the first place, and you can’t help but return it before lifting the mic back to your lips for the bridge.
There's no one else I'd rather fall in love with / And that is my best friend in the world / You're my best friend in the world
as the last line comes you tilt the mic to him, his eyebrows lifting in surprise but sings it effortlessly anyways. leaning close to him as the mic catches your voices harmonizing beautifully. the last notes play and the crowd explodes into cheers, clapping along. you rise to your feet and turn to him, he follows quickly his hand on your waist as he pulls you to face him and just when you least expect it, he takes your hand giving you a little twirl before dipping you into a searing and loving kiss. your fans gasp and scream at the sight, your arms wrapped around his neck and face flushed by his bold move. as he pulls you back up he tells you he's been waiting to do that the whole song- you shake your head laughing, pinching his cheek in retaliation for catching you off guard. with one final kiss on your cheek he waves at the crowd before being whisked away with the bench.
your face is flushed and cheekbones sore from smiling so much. your fans are electric with a mix of emotions, shouting both yours and his name as you quickly try to regain your composure before the next song, your head reeling and heart doing somersaults thinking about everything that had just happened before and you wouldn't want it any other way.
a night you surely would not forget.
ynmiller my muse and forever best friend @/braedenlemasters i love you the most <3
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iheartyn YN PLS I BARELY RECOVERED FROM THE PERFORMANCE
braedenlamasters and i love you, my sweet girl.
⤷ braedenlamasters and while we're here stream our newest ep model!
⤷ ynmiller i confess my love to you and literally serenade you on stage and you're promoting your music :( how dare
⤷ colepressston looks like braeden is sleeping on the couch tonight
⤷ ynmiller try the hotel lobby
⤷ ynluvbot PLEASE I CANT
wallowsfan how have we never found out they were together????
ynfan im literally sobbing my heart cannot take this
fan1 i can’t believe we got the hard launch and the soft launch in one night.
fan2 i need them to make a song together ASAP
fan3 I WANT A LOVE LIKE THEIRS
wallowsqterback okay but did you guys see the way he looked at her IM SOBBING THEYRE LITERALLY SO IN LOVE
dylanminette only took you guys 4 years
⤷ fan4 FOUR YEARS???
⤷ fan5 i honestly respect them for that
⤷ fan6 this only makes me love them more omg
ynmillersource tweeted!
YN BRINGING OUT HER BOYFRIEND ON STAGE AND IT BEING BRAEDEN WAS NOT ON MY BINGO CARD THIS YEAR.
(see video attached)
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﹫ynfan the way he's been away on tour and the only night we see him out and about is on stage with his girlfriend, i can't
﹫wallowsfan braeden in her tour hoodie?? braeden laughing while she sings to him?? braeden KISSING HER AT THE END?? oh i’m unwell.
﹫fan1 THEM HARMONIZING AT THE END???? THE FACT THEY HAVENT MADE A SONG TOGETHER IS CRIMINAL
﹫ynfan literally saw all of this live at barricade and i can't decide if i want to be y/n or braeden
﹫fan2 can we talk about how braeden’s face softened when she sang “you’re my best friend”??? like that wasn’t for us. that was for HIM.
﹫wallowsfan she twirled around him like a disney princess and he just SAT THERE SMILING LIKE THE SUN WAS SHINING JUST FOR HIM. i’m sick.
﹫fan3 the real gag is that they both look so in love it’s actually painful to watch?? like who let them do this to us.
﹫fan4 honestly respect for keeping it private this long but i feel like we’ve all just been invited to the wedding
﹫wallowsfan did anyone else catch the way he mouthed “i love you” before she sat down next to him or am i hallucinating???
—
ownership of starrvsn. please do not repost, modify or translate
Content: fluffy, brae hates cold water, idk just super cute
A/N: ugh ik this is short but this idea came to me in the shower and I thought it was so cute
You walk into the small apartment after a long day. All you want is a nice cold shower. You walk into your bedroom and to your drawer to pick out some cozy pajamas.
Once you get your pajamas, you set them on the bathroom counter then walk to the kitchen to brew some tea so by the time you get out the shower it will be done and ready for you to enjoy.
*10 minutes later*
You are standing under the water enjoying the nice chilly relief as you hear the door open…. “Babe I’m home!” Your beloved boyfriend Braeden yells.
“I’m in the shower!” You call out poking your head out the curtain. You hear him jog to the bathroom door and you roll your eyes while laughing silently
“Heyyy pretty lady” He says as he slides onto the room. Without even asking to join he already starts pulling his shirt off his body. “Sure Braeden you can join me” You say sarcastically while you wash your hair.
He gets in the shower and immediately gasps “It’s cold! Holy shit!” He says and backs up from the water.
You start laughing historically “Jesus brae could you not tell it was cold when you walked in and there was no steam?" you say while wiping your eyes from laughing so much.
You smirk at him like you are planing something and his eyes widen. He knows exactly what you are planning. “Baby. No. Don’t do it please I’m begging!”
You detach the shower head and spray him with it. “Y/n no! Baby please no! It’s so cold I’m gonna die!” He says while trying to smack the water away. You put it down and giggle at him
“I hate you” He says even tho he is stepping closer. You giggle softly and pet his cheek “I love you too idiot…” You say but he then presses a sweet kiss to your lips.
And for what feels like hours you two just stand under that water that Braeden once feared but now loves because he is with you.
WALLOWS FOURSOME WALLOWS FOURSOME!!! (bonus if the reader is their assistant and the boys help her to relax)
𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒔 ꨄ︎ (Wallows X FemReader)
Content: Smut, Foursome, The guys being givers, Heavy bromance, Group gooning, Triple P, Aftercare
A/N: A year ago I downloaded Tumblr 😇
For almost two decades the three of them had been a closed circuit.
Dylan, Braeden, Cole.
Brothers in every way that mattered—sharing hotel rooms that smelled like stale beer and ambition, finishing each other’s sentences on late-night FaceTimes, jerking off in the same tour bus bunk when the Wi-Fi was shit and the only porn they could load was whatever grainy clip someone had saved three phones ago. They’d seen each other come, laugh about it five seconds later, pass the lube without looking, no shame, no weirdness. It was just… them. Family. Pack. Whatever you call three guys who’ve grown up inside the same screaming spotlight.
They had never, not once, wanted the same girl.
Different types, different vibes, different body counts with zero overlap. Cole liked them sharp-tongued and a little mean; Braeden went for soft ones who smelled like vanilla and let him bury his face between their thighs for hours; Dylan chased the ones who could match his chaotic energy, the ones who’d bite back and then kiss the bruise they left.
No crossover. No jealousy. Never.
Until you.
Your first day as their new assistant was supposed to be boring. Just another warm body to handle schedules, coffee runs, lost phone chargers, and the occasional “please tell the label we’re running thirty minutes late again.” You walked into the green room at the rehearsal space in a plain black tee, high-waisted jeans, hair pulled back like you’d already accepted you’d be sweating your ass off by noon, and the second you said “Hey, I’m the new one—where do you want me?” all three heads snapped up like they’d been tasered.
Dylan’s fingers froze on the strings of the guitar he’d been idly strumming.
Braeden actually dropped the water bottle; it rolled under the couch and no one moved to grab it.
Cole blinked once, twice, then let out a quiet “fuck me” under his breath that he thought no one heard.
You didn’t notice. You were too busy unpacking your notebook, rattling off the day’s itinerary like it was nothing. They watched you move—watched the way your shirt pulled tight across your back when you reached for a pen, watched the curve of your ass when you bent to pick up a stray pick Dylan “accidentally” dropped, watched your mouth form words they barely registered because their brains had collectively short-circuited.
That night, after you left, they didn’t even pretend to play it cool.
They were back at Cole’s place—same ratty couch they’d had since the apartment days, same shitty lighting, same bottle of cheap whiskey making the rounds.
Dylan spoke first, voice rough like he’d been gargling gravel. “She’s… fuck. She’s different.”
Braeden laughed once, short and disbelieving, then scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’ve never wanted to bend someone over a mixing board so bad in my life.”
Cole just stared at the ceiling, one hand already resting low on his stomach, fingers twitching. “I’m already hard thinking about how her pussy would feel after a long day of bossing us around.”
No one laughed. No one told the other to shut up.
They just… looked at each other.
And for the first time in years, the air between them crackled with something new.
Want.
Shared.
Violent.
Dylan broke the silence.“You guys gonna pretend you’re not jerking off to her tonight?”
Braeden smirked, already palming himself through his sweats. “Too late. Been doing it since she said ‘itinerary.’”
Cole groaned, head tipping back. “Fuck it. Let’s do it together then. Like old times… but better.”
They didn’t even make it to separate rooms.
Clothes stayed half-on. Pants shoved to mid-thigh, boxers yanked down just enough.
Three cocks out, already leaking, fists moving in the same lazy, hungry rhythm while they traded filthy hypotheticals about you.
How you’d look on your knees between them.
How you’d sound if they took turns stretching you open.
How you’d beg—because they all knew you’d fucking beg once they got their hands on you.
They came within seconds of each other, grunting your name like a prayer they weren’t supposed to say out loud.
And they kept doing it. Night after night.
Hotel rooms, green rooms after you’d already gone home, back lounge of the bus while you were asleep in the front bunk.
Always talking about you. Always picturing you. Always finishing to the same fantasy: you finally catching them, finally seeing how wrecked they got just from thinking about you, finally deciding you wanted all three of them at once.
They never thought you actually would walk in.
You’re speed-walking down the hallway of their building, phone clutched in one hand, iPad in the other, AirPods blasting the voice memo you recorded yourself an hour ago because your brain is too fried to remember anything otherwise.
Mental checklist on loop, ruthless:
- Confirm tomorrow’s radio spot at 7 a.m. sharp — they will try to sleep through it.
- Get Cole’s new pedal order approved before the label bitches again.
- Remind Braeden he still hasn’t sent the revised setlist for the mini-tour openers.
- Ask Dylan why the fuck he keeps “forgetting” to sign the merch release forms.
- Pretend you didn’t notice the way all three of them stared at your ass when you bent over the coffee table this afternoon.
- Ignore how wet that made you.
- Ignore how you’ve been ignoring it for weeks.
You’re so deep in your own head that you almost miss the muffled voices leaking under the door of Cole’s apartment. Almost.
Inside, the vibe is already molten.
They’re sprawled across the living room like they’ve given up on furniture having rules. Cole’s on the couch, legs wide, sweats shoved halfway down his thighs, cock already in his fist, slow lazy strokes. Dylan’s leaning against the armrest beside him, jeans open, hand moving in the same unhurried rhythm. Braeden’s on the floor between them, back against the coffee table, head tipped back, shirt rucked up to his chest, one hand working himself while the other grips the edge of the table so hard his knuckles are white.
They’ve been at it for maybe ten minutes. Long enough that the room smells like sweat and pre-cum and the faint weed they smoked earlier to “take the edge off.”
Braeden lets out a frustrated groan, hips twitching up into his own grip. “Fuck… my hand’s not doing it anymore. It’s like… I can’t even feel anything. It’s just numb.”
Dylan snorts, doesn’t stop stroking himself. “You’re just edged to death thinking about her, dude. Same as us.”
Braeden’s laugh is half-pained. “Yeah, well… fuck. I need more than this.”
There’s a beat. A loaded, dangerous beat.
Dylan’s eyes flick to Braeden’s lap, then back up to his face. Voice drops low, casual in the way that means he’s already decided.“Okay. Then I’ll do it for you.”
Braeden blinks. Once. Twice. Then grins, slow and filthy.“Thanks, bro.”
He lets go of himself, spreads his thighs a little wider, cock bobbing heavy against his stomach, flushed dark and slick at the tip.
Dylan shifts, reaches over without ceremony. Wraps his hand around Braeden’s length—different angle, different pressure, different heat—and starts pumping. Firm. Steady. The exact way he knows Braeden likes it because he’s watched him do it to himself a hundred times.
Braeden’s head falls back harder against the table. “Fuuuck. Yeah. Like that.”
Cole watches, hand speeding up on himself, breathing shallow. “Jesus. Okay. If he’s getting jerked by you…” He looks at Braeden, eyebrow raised. “Then you do me. And I’ll do Dylan.”
Braeden doesn’t even hesitate. He reaches sideways, fingers curling around Cole’s cock, thumb swiping over the head to collect the bead of pre-cum and smear it down the shaft. Cole hisses, hips jerking.
Dylan smirks at Cole over Braeden’s shoulder. “You gonna be good for him?”
Cole’s already half-gone, eyes glassy. “Shut up and let him jack you off.”
Braeden’s other hand finds Dylan’s cock—long fingers, calloused from bass strings, grip confident. He starts stroking in time with the rhythm Dylan’s using on him. A closed loop again, but dirtier. Hotter. No pretending this is just “bro stuff” anymore.
They’re all panting now. Quiet curses. Wet sounds of skin on skin. The occasional low moan when someone twists just right.
Dylan’s voice is wrecked. “She walked in right now… fuck. She’d see this. See us losing our minds over her. Bet she’d drop to her knees and—”
“Shut up,” Braeden groans, hips bucking into Dylan’s fist. “Or I’m gonna come too fast.”
Cole laughs breathlessly. “Too late for me. I’m close. Fuck—Braeden, harder.”
They’re right on the edge, chasing it together, when—
The front door handle rattles. They freeze. All three cocks still in someone else’s hand. All three heads snap toward the sound.
Your voice filters through the wood, muffled but unmistakable. “Guys? It’s me. I’ve got the updated rider and I need to go over tomorrow’s call times before I head out.”
Silence.
Dead. Fucking. Silence.
Except for the way Braeden’s dick twitches hard in Dylan’s grip.
The lock clicks. The door swings open.
You step inside like you own the place—because for the last three months you basically have. Notebook under one arm, phone in the other, heels clicking against the hardwood like gunshots in the sudden silence.
Three cocks freeze mid-stroke.
Dylan’s hand is still wrapped tight around Braeden’s shaft.
Braeden’s fingers are curled around Cole’s length.
Cole’s fist is locked around Dylan’s, thumb pressed right under the head where he knows Dylan leaks the most.
They don’t even try to cover up. No scramble for blankets. No “shit, wait—” They just stare at you, chests heaving, pupils blown so wide the room looks darker.
You don’t scream. You don’t blush. You don’t even blink.
You kick the door shut behind you with your heel—hard enough that the frame rattles—and drop your bag on the entry table like this is just another Tuesday.
“Alright,” you say, voice flat, professional, bored even. “I know you three have your… whatever homoerotic tension thing going on. I don’t care. Fuck each other senseless if that’s what gets you through rehearsals. Just sign these—” You slap the stack of rider amendments and merch contracts down on the coffee table, right next to the half-empty lube bottle. “—and someone hand me a bottle of Absolut Raspberry from the freezer. And then point me to a bed. These heels are murdering my feet and I’ve been on them since six.”
Cole lets out a shaky breath that sounds suspiciously like a whimper.
You can see everything.
The way they’re all flushed from neck to chest. The way pre-cum is dripping down Dylan’s knuckles. The way Braeden’s tip is so swollen it’s almost purple. The way Cole’s balls are drawn up tight like he was seconds from blowing.
And fuck—you’re soaked.
Your thong is useless at this point; you can feel the slick sliding down your inner thighs every time you shift your weight. Your nipples are so hard they hurt against the lace of your bra. Your mouth is watering. You want to drop to your knees and take all three at once until they’re crying your name.
But you keep your face blank. Nonchalant. Like you see rockstar cocks getting jerked in a circle every day.
You turn on your heel, already heading for the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. “I’m taking Cole’s room. It’s got the best mattress and I’m not asking permission.”
You don’t look back.
The door to Cole’s bedroom slams shut behind you.
Silence for three heartbeats.
Then Braeden’s voice—low, wrecked, almost reverent.“…and what if we offered?”
Dylan’s head snaps toward him. “What?”
Braeden licks his lips, eyes still glued to the closed door like he can see through it. “What if we offered to let her use us? Like… dildos. Living, breathing, come-inside-me-when-she-wants dildos.”
Cole groans, finally letting go of Dylan’s cock only to palm himself harder. “Jesus Christ, Braeden.”
“I’m serious.” Braeden’s voice cracks. “She just saw us like this and didn’t even flinch. She told us to keep going if we wanted. She’s not running. She’s… she’s fucking wet for it. I could smell her from here.”
Dylan drags a hand down his face, laughing once—short, disbelieving, turned on beyond reason. “You’re insane.”
“Yeah,” Braeden says, already standing up, cock still rock-hard and bouncing with every step. “But I’m also right. She didn’t tell us to stop. She didn’t tell us to get dressed. She just… took what she needed and left us here leaking.”
Cole’s already on his feet too, pants shoved down to his ankles, not bothering to pull them up. “So what? We just… knock?”
Braeden grins, feral. “We knock. We beg. And if she says yes, we spend the rest of the night proving we’re better than any toy she’s ever owned.”
Dylan exhales hard through his nose. Looks at the closed door. Looks at his two best friends—hard, dripping, pupils blown with the same hunger that’s been eating him alive for weeks. “Fuck it,” he mutters.
He’s the first one to move.
They don’t even bother pulling their pants up.
Three cocks still hard, still glistening from each other’s hands, bouncing with every hurried step down the hallway. Dylan leads because he’s the one who always pretends he’s in control. Braeden’s right behind him, already palming himself again like he can’t stop. Cole trails last, breathing ragged, one hand braced on the wall like the floor might tilt if he lets go.
They stop outside Cole’s bedroom door.
Dylan knocks once—sharp, impatient—then leans his forehead against the wood, voice low and filthy.
“We’re coming in, baby.”
Braeden’s mouth is right next to Dylan’s ear, loud enough for you to hear through the door. “Gonna spread her open on that big mattress. Gonna take turns filling every hole until she's dripping us for days.”
Cole’s voice cracks, needy. “I want her mouth first. Want gee to choke on me while you fuck gee from behind. Want to feel her swallow when I come down that throat.”
They’re all talking over each other now, overlapping promises that get dirtier by the second.
“Gonna eat her out till you cry.”
“Gonna fuck her so deep you forget her own name.”
“Gonna make her come so many times she'll beg us to stop—and then we won’t.”
“Gonna paint that pretty face with all three of us.”
“Gonna use you like our perfect little toy, just like we’ve been jerking off to for weeks.”
Inside the room, you’re already on your back across Cole’s bed—heels kicked off, skirt rucked up around your hips, one hand slipped inside your soaked panties, fingers circling slow and teasing over your clit because listening to them out there almost made you come untouched.
You don’t answer right away. Let them sweat. Then, voice lazy, dripping with mock boredom:“You can come in. I’ve been hearing every fucking word.”
The door flies open so fast it bangs against the wall.
They freeze in the doorway—three gorgeous, wrecked boys staring at you like you just handed them the keys to paradise.
You prop yourself up on your elbows, legs spread just enough that they can see the wet spot darkening your thong, see the way your fingers are still lazily rubbing yourself through the fabric.
“So,” you say, tilting your head, lips curling into the smallest, meanest smile. “Are you gonna help me relax after the day I’ve had… or are you just gonna keep standing there with your dicks out, jerking off to your little gay porno fantasy without me?”
Braeden actually whimpers.
Dylan’s the first to move—long strides, crossing the room in two steps, dropping to his knees at the foot of the bed between your spread thighs. His hands clamp around your ankles, yanking you toward him until your ass is right at the edge.
“Fuck the fantasy,” he growls, voice shredded. “We want the real thing.”
Braeden’s already crawling onto the bed beside you, mouth crashing into yours—hungry, desperate, tongue pushing past your lips like he’s been starving for it. Cole’s right behind him, hands shoving your shirt up, bra yanked down so he can get his mouth on your tits, sucking hard enough to leave marks.
You moan into Braeden’s kiss, fingers tangling in Dylan’s hair as he hooks your thong to the side and buries his face between your legs without warning.
One long, slow lick from your entrance to your clit. You arch hard, gasping.
“Finally,” you breathe against Braeden’s mouth. “Took you long enough.”
They’re on you like starving animals the second the words leave your mouth—Dylan’s tongue still buried between your folds, lapping like he’s trying to drink you dry; Braeden sucking bruises into the side of your neck while his hand kneads your breast; Cole’s teeth grazing your nipple, groaning every time you arch into his mouth.
It’s overwhelming. Too many hands, too many mouths, too much want crashing into you at once.
You thread your fingers into Dylan’s hair and yank—hard.
“Calm down,” you snap, voice low but sharp enough to cut through the haze. “You’re so—so—so fucking greedy.”
They freeze instantly.
Dylan pulls back just enough that you can feel the cool air hit your soaked cunt, his lips shiny with you.
Braeden lifts his head, pupils blown, breathing through his mouth like he’s forgotten how lungs work.
Cole’s teeth release your nipple with a wet pop, eyes wide and glassy.
You sit up slowly, pushing them off you one by one—gentle but firm. They let you. They actually fucking let you.
“Back up,” you say, sliding off the bed until your bare feet hit the floor. “All of you. Sit on the edge of the mattress. Right here.”
They scramble to obey so fast it’s almost comical. Three rock-hard cocks bobbing as they perch on the edge of the bed like they’ve been trained for this exact moment. Legs spread, hands twitching like they want to touch themselves—or you—but they don’t dare move without permission.
You stand in front of them, skirt still hiked up, thong crooked and useless, shirt half-unbuttoned, tits spilling out of your bra. You look down at them—flushed, leaking, desperate—and something hot and possessive curls in your belly.
“Clothes off,” you order. “All of it. Now.”
Dylan’s the first to move. He yanks his shirt over his head in one impatient motion, then shoves his jeans and boxers the rest of the way down his thighs, kicking them off. Braeden follows—peeling his hoodie off, then the tee underneath, finally shoving his sweats down so his cock slaps back against his stomach, leaving a wet streak. Cole’s last, fumbling with his shirt buttons before just ripping it open, buttons pinging across the floor, then shimmying out of everything until all three of them are completely bare.
Naked.
Hard.
Waiting.
You step closer, between Dylan’s spread knees first. You trail one fingertip down the center of his chest, watching goosebumps erupt in its wake. Then over to Braeden—fingernails lightly scraping along his collarbone, making him shiver. Then to Cole—thumb brushing the fresh bruise you left on his pec earlier.
They’re all breathing like they’ve run a marathon. Chests heaving. Cocks twitching every time you move.
You smile—slow, sweet, mean. “Good boys,” you murmur, voice dripping honey and venom. “Such a perfect trio of good boys… for Ma’am.”
Dylan lets out a broken sound—half-whimper, half-growl.
Braeden’s head tips back, throat working on a swallow.
Cole’s hands fist the sheets so hard his knuckles bleach white.
You lean in, close enough that your breath ghosts over Dylan’s lips.
“You’ve been jerking off to me for weeks, haven’t you?” You drag your nails lightly up Braeden’s thigh, stopping just short of his cock. “Talking about me. Sharing me in your filthy little fantasies. Passing each other around like I was already yours.”
Braeden nods frantically. “Yes—fuck—yes, Ma’am.”
You shift to Cole, cupping his jaw, forcing him to look up at you.
“And now here I am. Real. Wet. Right in front of you.” Your thumb traces his bottom lip. “But you don’t get to touch until I say. You don’t get to come until I let you. You understand?”
Cole’s voice is wrecked. “Yes, Ma’am.”
You step back, just out of reach, and slowly—agonizingly—start peeling off what’s left of your own clothes. Shirt sliding down your arms. Bra unhooked and dropped. Skirt shimmying over your hips. Thong finally kicked aside.
Naked now, too.
You stand there and let them look. Let them drink in every inch while their cocks throb untouched between their thighs.
Then you smile again.
“Hands behind your backs,” you say softly. “And keep them there. Ma’am’s going to play now.”
You drop to your knees between them—slow, deliberate, the hardwood cool against your skin.
The three of them are still perched on the edge of the bed like good little soldiers: legs spread wide, hands locked behind their backs, cocks straining upward, flushed and dripping.
Dylan’s leaking steadily now, a thin silver thread connecting the head of his dick to his stomach.
Braeden’s twitching every few seconds like he can’t help it.
Cole’s breathing so hard his abs flex with every inhale.
You look up at them through your lashes—big, wet puppy eyes, lips parted just enough to look innocent while your cunt throbs untouched between your thighs.
“Please,” you whisper, voice soft and needy, the complete opposite of the Ma’am tone you used thirty seconds ago. “Jerk off for me. Right here. Right in front of my face.”
They all make some kind of broken sound at the same time.
“Want you to cover me,” you continue, tilting your head, letting your tongue peek out to wet your bottom lip. “Want your cum all over my face. Hot. Thick. All three of you at once. Mark me up so I can feel it drip down my chin while I decide how I’m gonna let you fuck me tonight.”
“Tell me first,” you cut in, voice sweet poison. “Tell Ma’am exactly what you’ve been thinking about doing to me. Every filthy detail you’ve jerked off to. Be honest. If you’re good… maybe I’ll grant your wishes.”
Cole cracks first. His voice is wrecked, almost a whine.
“I—I want your mouth. Want you to suck me so deep I hit the back of your throat. Want to feel your tongue swirl around the head every time you pull back. Want to fuck your face until you’re gagging and crying and still begging for more. Want to come down your throat and watch you swallow every drop like it’s the only thing you’ve wanted all day.”
You hum, pleased, and drag one fingertip lightly up the underside of his cock—just a ghost of a touch. He shudders hard.
Braeden’s next, words tumbling out like he’s been holding them in for years.
“Your ass. Fuck—I’ve been dreaming about bending you over every surface in this apartment and sliding into your tight little hole. Slow at first, just the tip, letting you feel every inch stretch you open. Then harder. Deeper. Want to feel you clench around me while I play with your clit until you’re screaming. Want to fill your ass with my cum and watch it leak out when I pull out.”
You bite your lip, thighs pressing together because hearing him say it out loud makes your whole body pulse.
Dylan’s last. His voice is lower, rougher, almost dangerous.
“I want you on top. Want you to ride me so hard the bed shakes. Want your tits bouncing in my face while you grind down on my cock, taking every inch like you were made for it. Want your nails in my shoulders, your pussy squeezing me so tight I can’t think straight. Want to flip you over at the end and fuck up into you until we both come—until I’m spilling inside you and you’re shaking on top of me.”
You let out a soft, breathy moan at that one, eyes fluttering half-closed.
“Wish granted,” you whisper, looking up at all three of them with those same pleading puppy eyes. “But you have to use your words. Tell me again—what do you want? Beg for it. Nice and loud. And maybe—maybe—I’ll let you have it.”
Dylan’s hand flies to his cock so fast it slaps against his palm. He starts stroking—hard, fast, no teasing.“Please—fuck—let me feel you ride me. Let me watch you come all over my dick while I’m buried inside you.”
Braeden’s already jerking himself, thumb swiping over the head on every upstroke.“Please—let me fuck your ass. Let me stretch you open and come so deep you’ll feel me for days.”
Cole’s fist is flying now, hips rocking up into his own hand.“Please—suck me. Let me fuck your pretty mouth until I come down your throat. Please, baby—please—”
They’re all stroking in frantic rhythm now, eyes locked on your face, on your open mouth, on the way you’re looking up at them like you’re starving for it.
You lean in closer—close enough that your breath fans over the heads of their cocks.“Come for me,” you breathe. “Paint my face. Show me how bad you’ve wanted this.”
The first one to break is Cole—head thrown back, low guttural moan ripping out of him as thick ropes of cum stripe across your cheek, your lips, the bridge of your nose.
Braeden follows seconds later—growling your name like a curse as he unloads, hot spurts hitting your chin, dripping down your neck.
Dylan lasts longest—maybe three more brutal strokes—before he snarls and comes hard, painting your forehead, your closed eyelids, the corner of your mouth.
You stay perfectly still while they empty themselves onto you, letting it drip, letting it cool on your skin, letting them see what a beautiful fucking mess they’ve made.
When the last shudder leaves them, you open your eyes—lashes clumped with cum—and smile up at them, slow and filthy.“Good boys,” you purr, licking a stripe through the mess on your lip. “Now… who wants to go first?”
The taste of it lingers on your tongue from where you licked your lip earlier. They’re panting above you, cocks already twitching back to half-hard just from watching you wear them like makeup.
You rise slowly, graceful, predatory. Wipe a slow stripe of Dylan’s cum off your cheek with two fingers and suck them clean while holding eye contact with all three. Their breaths hitch in perfect sync.“Cole. Braeden.” Your voice is velvet now, low and commanding again. “Come here. Help me sit on Dylan’s cock.”
They move like they’ve been waiting for the order their whole lives.
Cole’s on your left, Braeden on your right—strong hands sliding under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. You feel their fingers dig into the soft flesh just below your ass, spreading you open a little as they guide you backward toward Dylan.
Dylan’s already flat on his back across the bed, legs spread, cock standing straight up—thick, veined, still slick from his own hand and the mess he left on your face. He’s staring up at you like you’re a goddess about to ruin him.
“Lower me slow,” you tell them. “I want to feel every fucking inch.”
Cole and Braeden obey. They ease you down, thighs trembling from the strain of holding you just right. The head of Dylan’s cock kisses your entrance—hot, blunt, insistent—and then—
The stretch hits like a punch.
You gasp sharp, head tipping back, nails digging into Cole’s forearm for balance. Fuck—it’s immediate. Thick pressure splitting you open, walls fluttering around him as he sinks in deeper, deeper, until your ass meets his hips and he’s buried to the hilt.
“God—fuck—” Your voice cracks. “So full already.”
Dylan groans beneath you, hands flying to your waist, fingers bruising. “Tight—Jesus, baby, you’re squeezing me so fucking hard—”
You roll your hips once—testing, grinding—and the friction makes all four of you moan at once.
You lean forward, bracing your hands on Dylan’s chest, tits swaying right in his face. Look over your shoulder at Braeden, then at Cole.
“Dylan,” you say, breathy, “I want you to suck Braeden off while I ride you. Get him nice and wet. Extra sloppy. Make it messy—drool all over him. I want him dripping when it’s time for my ass.”
Dylan’s eyes flash dark. He licks his lips, nods once—eager, filthy.
“And me?” Cole asks, voice wrecked, cock bobbing untouched inches from your mouth.
You smile, slow and wicked. Turn your head just enough to brush your lips against the head of his dick—teasing, not taking him in yet.
“You wait your turn, pretty boy. But first—” You reach back, grab Braeden’s wrist, guide his hand between your legs until his fingers find your clit. “Rub me while I settle on Dylan. Slow circles. Keep me nice and wet for when you fuck my ass later.”
Braeden’s fingers start moving instantly—firm, knowing pressure that makes your hips jerk forward onto Dylan’s cock again.
You look down at Dylan, roll your hips in a slow, deep grind.
“Open your mouth, baby,” you tell him. “Braeden—bring that cock here. Let Dylan taste how bad you want me.”
Braeden steps closer, knees on the mattress beside Dylan’s head. He grips the base of his own dick, guides it toward Dylan’s waiting mouth.
Dylan doesn’t hesitate.
He takes Braeden in—slow at first, lips stretching wide around the head—then deeper, cheeks hollowing as he sucks. A wet, obscene sound fills the room. Spit already starting to gather at the corners of Dylan’s mouth.
Braeden’s head falls back. “Fuck—yeah—just like that—”
You watch it all—Dylan’s throat working, the way his tongue swirls, the drool starting to leak down Braeden’s shaft. You clench hard around Dylan’s cock in response, making him groan around Braeden’s length.
“Good boy,” you purr down at Dylan. “Get him so sloppy for me. I want him sliding right into my ass with no resistance when it’s time.”
Cole’s whimpering now, hips twitching forward, begging without words.
You finally turn to him, wrap one hand around his base, give one slow, teasing stroke.
“Soon,” you whisper, thumb circling the head. “But first—watch them. Watch Dylan make Braeden ready for my tight little hole.”
You start riding Dylan then—slow, deliberate rolls of your hips—taking him deep while Cole and Braeden watch, while Dylan’s mouth works wet and filthy on Braeden’s cock, while the room fills with slick sounds and broken moans.
You lean forward, bracing one hand on Dylan’s chest for balance, the other reaching for Cole. He’s kneeling beside the bed now, cock right at mouth-level, leaking pre-cum in desperate little beads.
You don’t tease this time.
You wrap your lips around the head, tongue flat and swirling, then sink down in one wet, sloppy glide—taking him to the back of your throat until your nose brushes his pubes. Cole’s hips buck hard; he cries out, fingers tangling in your hair.
“Fuck—fuck—baby—”
You pull off with a loud, obscene pop, strings of spit connecting your lips to his cock. You don’t wipe them away. You let them dangle, glistening.
Then you turn your head and crash your mouth into Dylan’s.
The kiss is filthy—open, wet, sharing the taste of Cole straight from your tongue. Dylan groans into it, sucking on your tongue like he’s starving, hips jerking up into you harder. You can taste yourself on him from earlier, mixed with the salt of Cole, and it makes your cunt clench so tight around Dylan’s cock he hisses.
You break the kiss just long enough to look at Cole.
“Kiss him,” you order, voice hoarse. “Show Braeden how good you taste.”
Cole doesn’t hesitate. He leans over Dylan’s body, grabs Braeden by the back of the neck, and pulls him into a bruising kiss. Braeden moans loud against Cole’s mouth—desperate, needy—tongues sliding, spit slicking their chins. You watch it all while you keep rolling your hips on Dylan, slow and torturous.
Then you pull back.
“Dylan,” you breathe against his lips. “Your turn. Suck Cole off. Make it as messy as you made Braeden.”
Dylan’s eyes darken. He nods once—eager, wrecked—and Cole shifts forward, straddling Dylan’s chest carefully so his cock hovers right over Dylan’s mouth.
Dylan opens wide.
Takes Cole in deep—throat working, cheeks hollowing, spit already spilling from the corners of his mouth. Cole’s head falls back, one hand braced on the headboard, the other in Dylan’s hair, guiding him.
You slide off Dylan’s cock with a wet sound—slow, deliberate—making him whine at the loss. Then you crawl toward Braeden, who’s kneeling at the edge of the bed, stroking himself slow, eyes glued to the sight of Dylan sucking Cole like it’s his last meal.
You settle between Braeden’s thighs, look up at him with those same big eyes from earlier.
“Open,” you whisper.
Braeden spreads his legs wider. You lean in, lick a long stripe from base to tip—teasing—then take him all the way down in one smooth motion. No gag. No hesitation. Just wet heat and throat relaxing around him until your lips are sealed at the root.
Braeden’s hips snap forward. “Fuck—shit—Ma’am—”
You bob your head—sloppy, noisy, spit dripping down his balls, pooling on the sheets. Every time you pull back you let your tongue drag under the head, flicking the slit, tasting the pre-cum that’s flowing freely now.
All around you: wet sucking sounds, low moans, broken curses.
Dylan’s throat clicking around Cole.
Cole panting above him.
Braeden whimpering every time you hollow your cheeks.
You humming around Braeden’s length, vibrations making him shake.
You pull off Braeden with a gasp, spit stringing from your lips to his cock.
“Look at me,” you say, voice rough. All three heads snap toward you instantly. “No one comes until I say. Not a single fucking drop. You edge yourselves. You hold it. You beg if you have to. But you don’t come. Understand?”
Dylan pulls off Cole with a wet gasp, lips swollen and shiny. “Yes—fuck—yes, Ma’am.”
Cole nods frantically, cock twitching in the air. “Won’t come. Promise.”
Braeden’s voice cracks. “Please—just—tell us when—”
You smile—slow, cruel, beautiful.“Good boys.”
You dive back down on Braeden, sucking harder now.
Dylan takes Cole back into his mouth, deeper, messier.
The room is nothing but slick sounds, heavy breathing, and the desperate, trembling restraint of three men trying not to explode.
You’re soaked. Dripping down your thighs.
But you’re nowhere near done making them suffer sweetly.
You’re back on Dylan’s cock—fully seated again, thighs burning from the angle, but you don’t care. You plant your hands flat on his chest, nails digging into skin, and start bouncing.
Hard.
Fast.
Relentless.
Every downward slam makes a wet slap echo through the room. Dylan’s cock punches deep, stretching you wide, hitting that spot that makes your vision white out for a second each time. Your tits bounce with every movement, nipples hard and aching. Sweat’s already slicking the space between your bodies.
“Fuck—fuck—Dylan—” you gasp, voice breaking on every upstroke. “So deep—god, you’re so fucking deep—”
Dylan’s hands clamp onto your hips, trying to guide you, but you slap them away.
“No,” you hiss. “You take what I give you. Just lie there and let me use you.”
He groans—long, wrecked—head thrown back, throat working. His cock throbs inside you, leaking steadily, but he’s holding back like you ordered. Barely.
You look over your shoulder at Braeden. He’s on his knees behind you now, one hand stroking his own cock slow and desperate, eyes locked on where Dylan disappears inside you over and over.
“Braeden,” you whine—high, needy, the begging tone you know drives him insane. “Please—fuck—please fuck my ass already. I need it. Need you stretching me open while Dylan’s buried in my pussy. Need both of you ruining me. Please—”
Braeden’s breath hitches. He crawls closer, hands shaking as he grips your ass cheeks, spreading you wide. You feel the blunt, hot head of his cock nudge against your hole—still slick from Dylan’s spit earlier, still loose enough from how turned on you are, but tight. So fucking tight.
“Gonna go slow,” he rasps, voice trembling. “Don’t wanna hurt you—”
“No,” you snap, bouncing harder on Dylan just to make him groan. “Not slow. Push in. I want to feel the burn. Want to feel you force your way in while I ride him.”
Braeden swears under his breath—filthy, reverent—and starts pressing forward.
The stretch is immediate. Intense. Almost too much.
You cry out—sharp, pleasure-pain—and your rhythm falters for a second. Dylan’s hands fly back to your waist, holding you steady while Braeden sinks in inch by agonizing inch.
“Fuck—tight—so fucking tight—” Braeden’s voice cracks. “You’re taking us both—shit—look at you—”
When he bottoms out—hips flush against your ass—you feel impossibly full. Stuffed. Split open in the best way. Every tiny shift makes them rub against each other through that thin wall inside you.
You’re shaking. Panting. Dripping down Dylan’s balls.
Cole’s right in front of you now—kneeling on the bed, cock in your face, leaking like a faucet.
You wrap your hand around him—tight, slick with spit—and start jerking him in time with your bounces. Slow at first, then faster, matching the brutal rhythm you’ve set on Dylan.
You look up at Cole through damp lashes, lips parted, voice wrecked and sweet.
“Do you like it?” you ask, thumb swirling over his tip on every upstroke. “Do you like watching your best friends fuck me? Watching Dylan stretch my pussy while Braeden forces his way into my ass? Watching me take both their cocks like I was made for it?”
Cole’s hips jerk into your fist. His eyes are glassy, pupils blown.
“Fuck—yes—” he chokes out. “Love it. Love seeing you like this. So full—so fucking used—god, you’re perfect—”
You squeeze harder, twist your wrist on the upstroke.
“Tell me,” you demand, bouncing so hard now the headboard bangs against the wall. “Tell me how hot it is. How bad you want your turn.”
Cole’s voice breaks. “It’s so fucking hot—watching them ruin you—watching you beg for more—shit—I wanna come all over your tits while they’re still inside you—wanna see you covered in all of us again—”
Braeden’s thrusts are picking up now—shallow at first, then deeper, harder—syncing with your bounces on Dylan until they’re both fucking into you in perfect, brutal rhythm.
You lean down, bite his shoulder hard enough to leave teeth marks.
“Not yet,” you growl against his skin. “None of you. Hold it. Edge for me. I want you all shaking before I let you come.”
Braeden’s pace stutters—desperate. “Please—Ma’am—can’t—fuck—too good—”
You reach back, grab a fistful of Braeden’s hair, yank his mouth to your neck.
“Hold it,” you repeat, voice dark. “Or I stop. And you watch while I make Cole come down my throat instead.”
They all whimper at the same time—three broken, needy sounds.
You keep bouncing.
Keep jerking Cole.
Keep taking them both.
The room smells like sex—sweat, cum, spit, desperation.
And you’re nowhere near done.
Your hips slam down onto Dylan with wet, filthy slaps that echo louder than anyone’s moans. Every bounce drives him deeper, makes Braeden’s cock drag against that sensitive wall inside you, the double penetration turning every nerve into fire. Your thighs burn, your core clenches, sweat drips down your spine and between your tits.
You’re close.
So fucking close.
But you’re not coming alone.
You lean forward, bracing one hand on Dylan’s chest, the other wrapping around Cole’s base again. You bring your mouth to his tip—slow kitten licks at first, just the flat of your tongue flicking over the slit, tasting the steady leak of pre-cum. Cole’s hips jerk forward every time, desperate little thrusts he can’t control.
“Fuck—please—” he whines, voice cracking. “Please, baby—”
You look up at all three of them through wet lashes, lips brushing the head of Cole’s cock as you speak.
“Come for me,” you beg—voice high, broken, needy. “Come inside. All of you. Fill me up. I want to feel it—want you spilling deep in my pussy, deep in my ass, want it dripping out of me when you’re done. Please—please—fill me, I’m begging—”
That’s all it takes.
Dylan breaks first.
His hands clamp down on your hips so hard you’ll bruise tomorrow. He thrusts up once—twice—hard and erratic—then buries himself to the hilt with a strangled groan. You feel the first hot pulse of him inside you, thick ropes flooding your cunt, coating your walls. He’s shaking, whining your name over and over like a prayer, hips stuttering as he keeps coming, keeps filling you until it’s leaking out around his cock.
The feeling—him throbbing, spilling, so deep—tips you over.
Your orgasm hits like a wave crashing. Shaky. Violent. Your whole body locks up, thighs trembling uncontrollably, cunt spasming around Dylan so hard he gasps. You cry out—sharp, broken—back arching, nails raking down Dylan’s chest. Stars burst behind your eyes. Your walls milk him through every aftershock, pulling more out of him until he’s whimpering from oversensitivity.
Braeden follows right after—your begging and your shaking orgasm too much for him.
He slams in one last time, hips flush against your ass, and comes with a low, guttural moan. Hot spurts deep inside your ass, filling you, stretching you even more as he pulses and pulses. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you still while he empties everything he’s got. You feel it—warm, thick, mixing with the stretch, making you clench around both of them involuntarily.
Cole’s the last one.
You take him back into your mouth—just the tip—sucking hard while your hand strokes the shaft fast and slick. He’s whining, hips bucking, tears in the corners of his eyes from how long he’s held it.
“Inside—please—inside—” he begs.
You pull off just long enough to whisper against his tip:
“Come in my mouth first. Then next time, your turn to fill me.”
That undoes him.
He comes with a choked sob—thick ropes hitting your tongue, your lips, spilling over your chin as you swallow what you can. You keep stroking him through it, milking every drop, letting the rest drip down your neck while he shakes and whines above you.
All three of them are wrecked—panting, trembling, still buried inside you or leaking against your skin.
You’re full. So full it hurts in the best way—Dylan softening slowly in your pussy, Braeden still twitching in your ass, Cole’s cum cooling on your face and chest.
Your orgasm aftershocks keep rippling through you—shaky little tremors that make you clench around them again and again. You collapse forward onto Dylan’s chest, breathing ragged, heart hammering.
They’re all touching you now—gentle, reverent. Hands stroking your back, your hair, your thighs. Soft kisses pressed to sweat-slick skin.
You smile against Dylan’s neck, voice hoarse and satisfied.
“Good boys,” you murmur. “Such good fucking boys.”
They pull out slow—careful, almost reverent—because every tiny shift makes you whimper from the sudden emptiness and the oversensitive drag. Dylan first, his cock slipping free with a wet sound, followed by a thick trickle of his cum leaking out of you onto the sheets. Braeden next, easing out of your ass inch by inch until you’re clenching around nothing, feeling the warm drip of him too. Cole’s already softening in your hand; you give him one last gentle stroke before letting go.
All three of them are wrecked—sweat-slick, chests heaving, hair sticking to foreheads, eyes glassy with that post-orgasm haze. But the second they see you trembling (aftershocks still rippling through your legs, your whole body shaky and boneless), something shifts.
The feral edge melts away into something softer. Protective.
Dylan moves first. He sits up, pulls you gently into his lap so your back is against his chest, legs draped over his. His arms wrap around you immediately—warm, steady, one hand splaying over your stomach like he’s trying to hold all the pieces of you together.
Braeden’s already grabbing the comforter from the foot of the bed—soft, worn, smells faintly like weed and their cologne—and drapes it over the three of you. He tucks it around your shoulders, then slides in on your left, pressing his chest to your side, one leg thrown over yours like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t touch as much skin as possible.
Cole curls up on your right—smaller, more kitten-like—head on your shoulder, face buried in the crook of your neck. His hand finds yours under the blanket, fingers lacing tight.
For a minute it’s just breathing. Heavy, synced breaths. The room still smells like sex—sweat, cum, spit—but now it’s mixed with something quieter. Something safe.
Dylan’s lips brush your temple. Voice low, rough from all the moaning.“You okay, baby?”
You nod against his chest. Too blissed out to speak full sentences yet.
Braeden’s hand strokes slow circles on your thigh under the blanket. “Want us to run you a bath? Hot water, that lavender shit you like that we keep buying just for when you’re here?”
Cole lifts his head just enough to murmur against your skin. “Or we can order food. Whatever you want—pizza, sushi, that ramen place that delivers at 2 a.m. We’ll get it all. Just say the word.”
You shake your head slowly. Eyes already half-closed, body heavy with that perfect post-orgasm exhaustion.
“No,” you whisper, voice small and sleepy. “No bath. No food.”
They all go still, waiting.
You turn your face into Dylan’s neck, breathe him in, then reach out to pull Braeden and Cole closer until you’re sandwiched tight between the three of them—warm skin, steady heartbeats, arms and legs tangled in the best way.
“Just… sleep with me,” you mumble. “Stay. Hug me. Don’t let go.”
Dylan exhales soft against your hair. “Yeah. We’re not going anywhere.”
Braeden presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Got you, baby. All night.”
Cole nuzzles deeper into your neck, already half-asleep. “Love you like this. All soft and ours.”
You smile—tiny, sated—eyes fluttering shut as their hands keep moving in slow, soothing patterns over your back, your arms, your hair.
The room quiets.
Just breathing. Just warmth. Just the three of them wrapped around you like they’ll never let anything touch you again.
You fall asleep first—safe, full, adored. They stay awake a little longer, watching you. Whispering soft things they think you can’t hear.
“Fuck… she’s perfect.”
“Never letting this go.”
“Best thing that ever happened to us.”
Then, one by one, they drift off too—still holding you tight.
PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU DO A BRAEDEN VERSION OF THE SELFINSERT FIC YOU DID WITH DYLAN I NEEEEED IT
𝑶𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑼𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝑨 𝑭𝒊𝒄 ꨄ︎ (Braeden Lemasters X FemReader)
Content: Smut, Self Insert kinda, Tumblr references, Pr mention, Idk what else to tag, Dry Humping, Interview, Shy reader, Open for a sequel, Edging, Handjob
The green room after the soundcheck was hazy with leftover smoke and the low hum of amps still cooling down. Braeden was sprawled on the worn leather couch, towel around his neck, hair still damp from the set. Dylan and Cole were both grinning like idiots, phones in hand, while the rest of the crew—tour manager, guitar tech, a couple of the sound guys—huddled around the coffee table like they were about to drop the wildest news of the tour.
“Brae, dude. You gotta see this shit,” Dylan said, barely holding back a laugh as he tossed his phone into Braeden’s lap. “Tumblr account. Been blowing up in the fandom corners. She’s writing about you. Like… filthy you.”
Braeden raised an eyebrow, wiping sweat from his forehead. “What, another thirst account? I’ve seen the edits, man. Not that serious.”
Cole shook his head, leaning over the back of the couch. “Nah, bro. This one’s next level. She writes these long, nasty fanfics. Like she knows shit about you only someone paying way too much attention would catch. The way you bite your lip when you’re focused on a riff, how you stretch after shows, the little growl you do when you’re pissed at the monitors… it’s like she’s been in the room with us.”
One of the crew guys snorted. “Looks like she’s been spying on your ass. Read the latest one. We screenshotted the good parts.”
Braeden sat up slowly, thumb scrolling through the blog. The username was something unassuming, but the content… Jesus. Explicit, detailed scenes of him pinning girls down backstage, filthy dirty talk, sweat-slick skin, the way he’d supposedly choke and praise at the same time. The latest post was practically dripping: him fresh off stage, still buzzing with adrenaline, dragging some lucky fan into the tour bus and fucking her raw while the rest of the band was none the wiser.
His throat tightened. A slow heat crawled up the back of his neck.
“This is… insane,” he muttered, but he didn’t stop scrolling. His eyes lingered on a particularly dirty paragraph describing his hands, the veins, the way he’d talk someone through it while buried deep. “She wrote all this?”
Dylan clapped him on the shoulder. “Yeah, and she’s got hundreds. Some of them are straight-up obsessed. We thought it was funny at first but… she’s good. Too good. Like she studied you.”
Cole smirked. “Interview vibes mixed with pure smut. She caught that thing you do with your voice when you’re trying to stay quiet in hotel rooms. Wild.”
Braeden’s grip on the phone tightened. He could feel his cock twitch traitorously in his sweats just from reading a few lines. The fantasy was too vivid—too close. The thought of some girl out there getting herself off to him like this, writing every nasty little thing she wanted him to do to her… it was doing dangerous things to his head.
“Delete it from my brain, guys,” he said, voice a little rougher than he meant. “We’ve got a show tomorrow. I don’t need to be thinking about random Tumblr girl’s wet dreams.”
The crew laughed, but Dylan’s grin turned knowing. “Too late, man. You’re already obsessed. We can see it on your face.”
Braeden tossed the phone back, but the images stayed burned behind his eyes. Sweat, moans, his name on her tongue, legs wrapped around him while he fucked her like he owned her.
He rubbed a hand over his face.“Fuck.”
Later that night, back in his hotel room, Braeden couldn’t let it go.
The rest of the crew had gone out for drinks, but he’d begged off with some lame excuse about needing sleep. Instead, he was sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed, laptop open, room lit only by the blue glow of the screen. His hair was still messy from the shower, towel slung low on his hips, and his heart was already beating faster than it had any right to.
He typed the username from the screenshots into Tumblr’s search bar.
Your blog loaded instantly.
The header was subtle — just a soft photo of hands and a guitar pick — but the content was anything but.
Post after post of pure filth centered on him. Braeden Lemasters. Him.
He scrolled slowly, breath catching as he read the titles:
“Tour Bus Trap”
“Sex On The Beach”
“Found Love After Getting Laid”
His cock twitched hard under the towel just from skimming the first few lines. You wrote with this raw, desperate detail that made it feel like you’d been watching him for years. The way you described the vein that popped on his forearm when he gripped the mic stand. The low rasp in his voice when he was turned on. How he’d pin someone against the wall and growl right against their ear:
“You’ve been thinking about this cock all night, haven’t you, baby? Writing all that dirty shit about me… now you’re gonna fucking feel it.”
Braeden’s hand moved on its own, palming himself through the towel as he clicked into one of your longer fics. It was written in second person — you. Like you were talking directly to yourself, imagining it was you he was destroying.
He read the scene where “you” snuck into the green room after a show. How he’d find you there, already soaked, and fuck you over the couch while the crew was right outside the door. The way you described him pulling your hair, spitting filthy praise, and coming deep inside you while calling you his dirty little secret.
“Fuck…” Braeden muttered, voice wrecked. He was fully hard now, towel pushed aside, hand slowly stroking his cock as he kept reading. Every new paragraph made it worse.
You wrote about the way he’d look at you — that intense, half-lidded stare he got when he was focused. The sweat dripping down his chest after a show. How he’d be gentle one second and then absolutely feral the next, biting your shoulder while he pounded into you and whispered how no one else could ever take him like you do.
He opened another tab. Then another. He started saving your posts. Screenshotting the nastiest lines. His breathing was ragged now, thumb scrolling faster, eyes devouring every word you’d written about him using you, owning you, breaking you in the best possible way.
The obsession hit him like a drug. Who the fuck were you? How did you know these things? The little details about his hands, his voice, the way he got quiet and intense right before he came… it felt too real. Like you’d been in his head. Or worse — like you’d been in his bed.
Braeden leaned back against the headboard, stroking himself harder, eyes glued to the screen. He was imagining it now. Imagining finding you. Dragging you somewhere private and turning every single filthy thing you wrote into reality.
He whispered under his breath, voice low and rough:
“You have no idea what you just started, baby…”
The next morning the crew gathered in the hotel conference room for a quick production meeting. Braeden showed up looking a little too put-together for someone who’d barely slept — fresh black tee, hair still damp, eyes sharp with something restless behind them. He waited until the usual tour talk died down before clearing his throat.
“Hey, so… about that Tumblr account we saw yesterday,” he started, keeping his voice casual. “The writer’s clearly got a big following. Her stuff’s blowing up in the fandom. I was thinking… maybe we could reach out? Set up an interview or something. Like, a fan-creator spotlight. It’d be a good way to connect with the fans on a deeper level, show we appreciate the community. Plus she’s helping grow the fanbase with all those posts. We should thank her properly.”
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, trying to look professional. The crew nodded along, a few of them exchanging quick glances. Someone from social media already had the contact info pulled up from the blog’s ask box and DMs.
“Yeah, we can make it happen,” the tour manager said. “We’ll slide into her DMs, keep it respectful. Interview via video call or email first, see if she’s down. Could be good promo.”
Braeden gave a short nod, jaw tight. “Cool. Just… make sure it’s handled right. Don’t want it to come off weird.”
The meeting wrapped up shortly after. As everyone started filing out, Dylan and Cole lingered behind, matching shit-eating grins on their faces.
Once the door clicked shut, Dylan let out a low whistle. “Nice try, bro. ‘Connect with the fans.’ ‘Thank her for growing the fanbase.’ You’re so full of shit.”
Cole laughed, shaking his head. “We know you, man. You stayed up half the night reading her nasty little stories about you, didn’t you? Now you’re trying to manifest her into real life so you can actually fuck her.”
Braeden’s ears went red but he played it cool, shrugging. “It’s not like that. It’s good PR.”
“Bullshit,” Dylan said, clapping him on the back. “You want to turn every filthy fantasy she wrote into reality. We saw the way you were looking at that phone yesterday. You’re obsessed, dude. You want her.”
Cole smirked wider. “Admit it. You’re already imagining what she sounds like moaning your name for real instead of just typing it.”
Braeden rubbed the back of his neck, a slow, dangerous smile tugging at his lips despite himself. His mind flashed back to the dirtiest paragraphs he’d read last night — you on your knees, you bent over the dressing room counter, you riding him while whispering how much you needed his cock.
“…Maybe a little,” he finally muttered, voice low.
Dylan barked out a laugh. “A little? Bro, you’re gonna rail her the second she shows up. We all know it.”
Braeden didn’t deny it this time. The heat from last night was still simmering under his skin, thicker now.
He wanted to meet you.
He wanted to see if the girl behind those filthy words could handle the real thing.
You were curled up in your favorite oversized hoodie at your desk, the room dimly lit by your monitor and a string of fairy lights. The cursor blinked on a blank document, the only thing typed so far being the bold title at the top:
𝑶𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑼𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝑨 𝑭𝒊𝒄 ꨄ︎ (Braeden Lemasters X FemReader)
A new one. Filthier than the last. You’d been daydreaming about it all morning — Braeden catching you writing about him, the way his hands would feel pinning your wrists, the dirty things he’d growl in your ear while he fucked you senseless. You’d barely started outlining the scene when your email pinged.
The notification popped up in the corner of your screen.
Subject: Interview Opportunity with Wallows – Fan Creator Spotlight
Your heart stopped.
You clicked it open, eyes scanning the professional but friendly wording.
Hi there,
We’ve been loving your writing on Tumblr — the passion, the details, the way you capture the band’s energy. We’d like to invite you to do a short interview/feature with us. It would be a fun way to connect with the community and highlight creators like you who help grow the fanbase.
Would you be open to a casual video call or email exchange sometime this week? No pressure, just excited to chat.
Best,
Wallows Crew / Management
You stared at the screen, mouth dry. This couldn’t be real. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, the new fic completely forgotten. Heat rushed to your face as you realized they’d probably seen some of your most unhinged posts — the ones where you described Braeden ruining you backstage, choking you with praise, filling you up while you moaned his name like a prayer.
Your thighs pressed together instinctively. The idea of actually talking to them — to him possibly — sent a thrill straight through you.
You read the email three more times, pulse racing.
“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself, a nervous, excited laugh bubbling up. “This is actually happening.”
The cursor on your new fic still blinked under the title, waiting. But right now all you could think about was what you’d say… and what might happen if Braeden himself ended up on that call.
You spent the next hour drafting and redrafting your reply, fingers shaking slightly on the keyboard. Your heart was hammering so hard you could feel it in your throat. Finally, you hit send on something that sounded chill and professional on the outside:
Hi!
Wow, thank you so much — this is insane in the best way. I’d love to do the interview! A video call works great for me whenever you’re free.
Their response came back faster than you expected.
Great to hear! We were thinking something even better — since you’re local to the area, how about an in-person chat? We can keep it casual at the venue after soundcheck. Braeden specifically mentioned he’d love to sit down with you one-on-one for this. He’s been reading your stuff and wants to thank you personally.
Does tomorrow afternoon work? We’ll send a car.
You screamed.
Literally screamed into your pillow, kicking your feet like a teenager. Braeden. Specifically. One-on-one. Your face burned as you reread the line over and over. The same Braeden you’d written hundreds of filthy scenes about — the one who pinned you down and called you his dirty little slut in your fics, who fucked you raw and whispered the nastiest praise while you fell apart on his cock.
And now he wanted to meet you. In person.
You typed back with trembling hands, trying (and failing) to sound normal:
Tomorrow afternoon is perfect. Thank you again, this is a dream.
Another reply popped up almost immediately.
Awesome. Braeden’s looking forward to it. See you soon.
You flopped back in your chair, thighs squeezing together as a rush of heat flooded through you. Your new fic titled “Once Upon a Fic” was still open on the other tab, completely abandoned. How the hell were you supposed to focus on writing about him when you were about to sit across from the real thing?
Your mind was spiraling — imagining his voice, his hands, the way he’d look at you if he knew even half the things you’d written about him doing to you. You were soaked just from the thought.
“Fuck… I’m actually going to meet Braeden,” you whispered, a giddy, horny little laugh escaping you. “This is going to ruin me.”
You had no idea how right you were.
The next afternoon, a black car pulled up exactly on time outside the back entrance of the venue. Your stomach was doing backflips the entire ride. You’d changed outfits three times, finally settling on something cute but casual — a little black skirt, cropped band tee, and your favorite boots. Your hands were clammy as you stepped inside, heart pounding so hard you were sure everyone could hear it.
A friendly woman from the crew greeted you right away, leading you down a quiet hallway to a cozy green room set up for the “interview.” She smiled warmly as she explained the setup.
“Alright, so the dynamic is pretty relaxed. We want this to feel natural — just a real conversation about your writing, how you got into the fandom, what inspires the fics, that kind of thing. Braeden’s really excited to talk with you directly. We’ll leave you two alone for about two hours so it doesn’t feel stiff or awkward with a bunch of us hovering. Sound good?”
You nodded, barely trusting your voice. Two hours. Alone. With Braeden. Your mind immediately flashed to every filthy scene you’d ever written — his hands on your thighs, his voice growling in your ear, the way you’d described him fucking you until you couldn’t think straight. Your cheeks were already burning.
“Perfect, He’ll be right in. Make yourself comfortable.” She left, closing the door softly behind her. You sat on the couch, legs pressed together, trying to breathe normally. The room smelled faintly of his cologne already — something woodsy and warm that made your pulse spike.
Then the door opened again.
Braeden stepped in, tall and effortlessly hot in a loose black button-up with the sleeves rolled up, exposing those veiny forearms you’d written about obsessively. His hair was messy in that perfect post-shower way, and when his eyes locked onto you, a slow, knowing smirk tugged at his lips.
You blushed immediately. Hard. Heat flooded your face, your neck, even your chest. You couldn’t stop it. Your thighs clenched on instinct as you stared at the man you’d fantasized about ruining you in a hundred different ways.
“Hey,” he said, voice low and a little rough, like he’d been thinking about this too. He closed the door behind him, the click sounding way too final. “You’re her. The girl behind all those filthy stories.”
He took a step closer, eyes dragging over you slowly, appreciatively.
Fuck. You were already wet.
The second Braeden closed the door, your brain short-circuited. You stood up too fast, heart slamming against your ribs, cheeks still burning from that initial blush. Seeing him in person — real, breathing, tall and radiating that quiet intensity — hit different. This wasn’t pixels on a screen or words you’d typed in the dark. This was him.
“Oh my god,” you breathed, voice shaky with pure excitement. “It’s actually you. I can’t believe this is happening right now. I’ve been freaking out since the email—”
Before you could ramble any more, Braeden stepped forward and pulled you into a hug.
His arms wrapped around you firmly, one hand settling on your lower back, the other between your shoulder blades. He smelled like clean skin, faint cologne, and something warmer — the leftover heat from soundcheck. Your face pressed against his chest, and for a second everything felt electric. You hugged him back, fingers curling into his shirt, a giddy little laugh escaping you.
“You smell even better than I imagined,” you mumbled without thinking, then immediately froze.
Braeden chuckled low, the sound vibrating through his chest. He didn’t let go right away. When he finally pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands stayed on your waist, thumbs brushing lightly over your hips.
That’s when reality crashed down.
He had read everything.
Every single filthy fic. Every scene where you wrote him fucking you raw, choking you, calling you his desperate little slut, coming deep inside you while you screamed his name. The ones where he bent you over the tour bus couch, the ones where he made you ride him while whispering the nastiest praise. All of it.
Your face went scarlet. You tried to step back, suddenly mortified, eyes dropping to the floor. “Shit… you’ve probably read all of it, haven’t you? I—I didn’t think anyone from the band would actually see the really dirty stuff and now I just—”
“Hey,” Braeden cut you off softly, tilting your chin up with two fingers so you had to meet his eyes. His voice dropped lower, that same raspy tone you’d written about a hundred times. “Don’t worry, baby. There’s nothing to be shy about.”
He leaned in closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered:
“Actually… that’s the hottest thing ever.”
Your breath hitched hard. The way he said baby — exactly like you’d imagined — sent heat flooding straight between your legs. Braeden’s eyes darkened as he watched your reaction, that slow smirk returning.
“I read every word,” he continued, voice rougher now. “And I’ve been thinking about it since last night. About you writing all that nasty shit about me… getting yourself off to it. Now you’re here. Looking like that.”
He didn’t pull away. His hand stayed on your waist, grip tightening just a little.
You couldn’t stop staring at his lips.
They were right there — soft, slightly parted, the same lips you’d written about a thousand times: how they’d feel biting your neck, whispering filthy things against your skin, sucking marks into your thighs. Your gaze was locked on them, breath shallow, the air between you crackling.
Braeden noticed immediately. His smirk deepened, that intense half-lidded look you knew so well from every photo and every fantasy. He tilted his head slightly, thumb still gently holding your chin.
“You can kiss me, you know,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Don’t worry, baby. It’s more than okay. I’ve been dying to feel it… to have you show me everything you imagine when you write all that filthy shit about me.”
Your heart slammed against your ribs. The permission, the hunger in his voice — it snapped something inside you.
You didn’t hesitate.
You surged forward, hands fisting in his shirt, and crashed your lips against his. The kiss was desperate, hungry, all the months of fantasizing pouring out at once. Braeden groaned into your mouth the second you made contact — a deep, satisfied sound that went straight to your core. His arms wrapped around you instantly, one hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair, the other gripping your waist hard enough to bruise.
He kissed you back like he’d been starving for it. His mouth was hot, demanding, tongue sliding against yours with filthy intent. He tasted like mint and something darker, and he kissed exactly how you’d always written him — dominant but passionate, like he wanted to devour every little whimper you made.
You moaned softly against him, pressing your body closer, and Braeden walked you backwards until your back hit the wall. He didn’t pull away. Instead he deepened the kiss, tilting your head exactly how he wanted, sucking on your bottom lip before biting it gently.
“Fuck, you taste even better than I thought,” he growled against your mouth, barely breaking the kiss. “Been reading how you want me to ruin you… now show me, baby. Kiss me like you write it.”
You did. You poured everything into it — needy, messy, passionate — hands roaming over his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through his shirt. Braeden’s grip tightened, pulling you flush against him so you could feel exactly how hard he already was.
You couldn’t take it anymore.
The kiss had you dripping, your whole body burning with months of built-up fantasy. Without thinking, you pushed Braeden back toward the couch, climbed straight onto his lap, straddling him. Your skirt rode up your thighs as you settled over him, hands gripping his shoulders, lips chasing his again like you were addicted.
Braeden let out a low, surprised laugh that turned into a groan, his hands immediately sliding under your skirt to grip your ass.
“Wow… you’re so fucking greedy, baby,” he murmured against your mouth, voice thick with lust. “Didn’t even wait two minutes. All those fics and you’re this desperate for me in real life?”
You didn’t answer with words. You just kissed him harder, deeper, grinding down against the obvious bulge in his jeans. Your tongue tangled with his, needy and messy, while his fingers dug into your soft flesh, guiding your hips in slow circles.
Braeden pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and hungry. His lips were swollen, breathing ragged.
“I know something that feels even better,” he said, voice dropping into that raspy tone you loved.
In one smooth move, he shifted you off his lap and onto his thick thigh, pulling you down so you were straddling just one leg. His knee pressed perfectly right against your clit through your soaked panties, the pressure firm and deliberate.
A sharp gasp escaped you as the contact hit exactly where you needed it.
Braeden smirked, watching your face with pure satisfaction. One of his hands stayed on your hip, slowly rocking you against his thigh, while the other slid up to cup the back of your neck.
“That’s it,” he growled softly. “Ride my thigh like you’ve written about riding my cock. Show me how bad you’ve wanted this, baby.”
The friction was delicious, every little movement sending sparks through your clit. You were already soaked, your wetness starting to stain his jeans as you rolled your hips again, moaning into his mouth when he pulled you down for another filthy kiss.
Your hips started moving on their own, grinding softly against Braeden’s thick thigh, chasing that perfect pressure on your swollen clit. Little whimpers slipped out of you as you humped him slowly, your soaked panties sliding against the rough denim.
Braeden groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he helped you. He guided your movements, pulling you down harder, rocking you back and forth with strong hands.
“That’s it, baby… just like that,” he rasped, voice low and filthy. “Fuck my thigh. Use me like you’ve been fantasizing about for months.”
The friction was driving you crazy. Every roll of your hips sent sparks shooting up your spine. You buried your face in his neck, breathing him in, kissing and nipping at his skin while you kept grinding.
Then you glanced down.
The sight made your mouth water.
Braeden was rock hard, his cock straining painfully against his jeans, the thick outline obvious and twitching. You could see how big he was, how much he was leaking for you already.
Without thinking, you slid one hand down between your bodies and started palming him over his jeans. Your fingers traced the heavy length of him, squeezing gently, stroking him slowly through the fabric.
“Fuck…” Braeden hissed, hips bucking up into your hand. “Look at you… so fucking needy. You write all that dirty shit about my cock and now you’re touching it like you own it.”
You moaned softly, pressing your clit harder against his thigh while your hand kept working him. He felt massive, hot, and throbbing under your palm. You rubbed him firmer, loving the way his breath hitched every time you squeezed the head.
Braeden’s hand slid up your thigh, fingers slipping under your skirt until they brushed against your soaked panties.
“You’re fucking dripping, baby,” he growled, voice dark with lust. “Keep humping my thigh and stroking my cock just like that… good girl.”
Braeden’s breathing was getting heavier, his cock twitching hard under your palm. He grabbed your wrist gently but firmly, guiding your hand to the button of his jeans.
“Take it out, baby,” he murmured against your lips, voice dark and commanding. “I want to feel your hand on me properly.”
You didn’t need to be told twice. You popped the button, tugged down the zipper, and slipped your hand inside. The second your fingers wrapped around his thick, bare cock, you both moaned. He was rock-hard, hot, and so big your hand barely fit around him. You started stroking him slowly, feeling every vein, the way he throbbed in your grip, the precum already leaking from the tip.
Braeden groaned deeply, hips bucking up into your fist. At the same time, his other hand gripped your ass hard, guiding your hips back and forth on his thigh with more force.
“Fuck, just like that,” he rasped, helping you jerk him off while making sure you kept grinding your soaked pussy against his leg. “Stroke my cock while you hump my thigh like a desperate little slut. That’s what you are, isn’t it? Writing all those filthy stories about me and now you’re living them.”
You whimpered, pumping him faster, twisting your wrist just right around the head the way you’d imagined a hundred times. The wet sounds of your hand moving on his leaking cock mixed with the filthy noises of you riding his thigh.
Braeden leaned in, biting your bottom lip before pulling back just enough to lock eyes with you. His gaze was intense, pupils blown wide with lust.
“By the way, baby…” he said, voice low and dangerously sweet, “you don’t get to cum until I say so. Understand?”
He squeezed your ass hard, forcing you to keep grinding even as your clit throbbed against his thigh, the pressure building dangerously.
“You’re gonna keep stroking me and riding my leg like a good girl… but that pretty pussy doesn’t cum until I give you permission. Got it?”
The pressure on your clit was unbearable now — every grind pushed you closer to the edge, but his earlier words echoed in your head. You weren’t allowed to cum until he said so.
“Please, Braeden…” you whimpered against his neck, voice shaky and needy. “Please let me cum. I’m so close… I’ve been good, I’ve been stroking you just how you like, humping your thigh like you told me. Please, baby, I need it. I’m gonna lose my mind.”
You sounded pathetic, exactly like the desperate girls in your own fics, and it only made you wetter. Braeden groaned, his cock pulsing hot and heavy in your fist as he kept guiding your ass, forcing you to keep riding his thigh harder.
“Fuck, listen to you begging so pretty,” he rasped, lips brushing your ear. “All that filthy writing and now you’re falling apart on my leg like this.”
He suddenly gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him. His eyes were dark, lips parted, breathing ragged.
“Go ahead then, princess,” he murmured, voice dripping with lust and affection. “Cum for me. Only because you write so fucking well.”
That was all it took.
The orgasm crashed into you hard. You cried out, burying your face in his shoulder as your whole body shook. Your pussy clenched and throbbed against his thigh, soaking his jeans even more while your hand kept pumping his cock through it. Waves of pleasure rolled through you, leaving you gasping and trembling in his lap.
Braeden held you through it, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, the other still tangled in your hair. He kissed the side of your head, murmuring soft praise against your skin as you came down.
“That’s my good girl… so fucking perfect.”
When your breathing finally slowed, he pulled you into a full, warm hug, pressing your body against his chest. You could still feel how hard he was, but he didn’t push for more right then.
“We should probably finish this ‘interview’ properly,” he said with a low chuckle, lips brushing your temple. “Don’t want the crew getting suspicious. But after that… we’re going back to my room. I’m nowhere near done with you, baby. I want to turn every single nasty thing you’ve ever written about me into reality tonight.”
He kissed you softly, almost sweetly, then smirked.
Can I request a Braeden somnophilia fic please and Thankyou
𝑳𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑻𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔 ꨄ︎ (Braeden Lemasters X FemReader)
Content: Smut, Slightly CNC I think, Somnophilia, Oral fem receiving, Pussy drunk brae, Dylan and Cole cameo, Reader luring brae to go back home
The dim lights of the dive bar wrapped around the three of you like a familiar haze—low chatter, clinking glasses, and the faint smell of whiskey and worn leather.
Braeden leaned back in the booth, one arm slung lazily over the backrest, a half-empty beer bottle dangling from his fingers. Cole was mid-story, gesturing wildly about some ridiculous studio mishap, and Dylan was laughing so hard he nearly spilled his drink.
Braeden grinned, the kind of easy, genuine smile that only came out when he was with his boys. It had been a long week, and tonight felt like a much-needed reset.
His phone buzzed against his thigh. Once. Twice. He glanced down, the screen lighting up with your name.
> You: Babe I miss you already… the bed feels too big without you
A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He typed back quickly, thumb moving across the screen without missing a beat in the conversation.
> Braeden: Miss you too pretty girl. I’ll be home soon, just wait for me
He hit send and slipped the phone back into his pocket, chuckling at something Dylan said. Another buzz. He didn’t pull it out right away.
> You: I can’t stop thinking about you… hurry home please?
Braeden’s jaw flexed just slightly, but his expression stayed casual as he took another sip of his beer.
Cole raised an eyebrow at him. “Everything good, man?”
“Yeah,” Braeden replied smoothly, voice low and relaxed. “Just her checking in. You know how it is.”
He finally glanced at the new message, heat already starting to pool low in his stomach. But he was enjoying the night—laughing, bullshitting, letting the stress of tour prep melt off his shoulders. He loved you more than anything, but right now the guys had him in a good mood and he wasn’t ready to cut the night short just yet.
> Braeden: Be patient for me baby. I’ll make it worth the wait when I get back. Promise.
He sent it with a little smirk, imagining your sweet, innocent face reading that text and probably thinking he just meant cuddles and kisses. You were too pure sometimes. It drove him fucking crazy in the best way.
The phone buzzed again almost immediately.
> You: Okay… I’ll try to stay awake for you ❤️
Braeden bit his lip, eyes darkening for just a second before he locked the screen and leaned forward to clink his bottle against Dylan’s. “Another round?” he asked, voice steady even as his mind was already drifting ahead—to you, warm and soft in his bed, waiting for him like the perfect little thing you were.
The night was still young, and so was his patience… for now.
The bar had gotten louder as the night stretched on. Empty bottles crowded the table, and the guys were deep into another round of stories—Cole recounting some chaotic tour moment while Dylan kept feeding him shots. Braeden was laughing along, but his phone had been burning a hole in his pocket for the last hour. Every buzz made his cock twitch under the table.
Then it rang.
Your name lit up the screen. He excused himself quickly, stepping outside into the cool night air where the noise dulled to a distant hum.
“Hey, pretty girl,” he answered, voice low and warm, a smirk already playing on his lips.
Your voice came through soft and sleepy, a little pouty. “Babe… don’t worry about me, okay? I’m gonna go to sleep now. You’re having fun with the boys, I don’t want to ruin your night.”
Braeden’s grip tightened on the phone. “No, baby. Don’t fall asleep yet.”
You let out a small, innocent laugh that went straight to his dick. “But I’m so tired… and the bed’s cold without you.”
He leaned against the brick wall, free hand running through his hair as he pictured you curled up in his sheets, wearing nothing but one of his old t-shirts. His voice dropped lower, rougher around the edges.
“Stay awake for me a little longer. I’m not done with you tonight.”
There was a pause on your end, then that sweet, teasing tone that always drove him wild. “Well then… you’ll have to think of a way to wake me up when you get home, won’t you?”
Braeden’s jaw clenched, heat flooding his body. His mind immediately went filthy—spreading your soft thighs while you slept, burying his face between them, licking and sucking until you woke up gasping his name. He had to adjust himself in his jeans right there on the sidewalk.
“Fuck, baby,” he murmured, almost a growl. “You have no idea what you just asked for. Be a good girl and stay in bed for me. I’ll be home soon… and I’ll wake you up real nice.”
You hummed sleepily, completely unaware of how hard he was getting just thinking about it. “Mmm… okay. Hurry though. Miss your mouth already.”
Braeden bit back a groan. “Yeah? You miss my tongue, pretty girl? Keep that thought warm for me.”
He stayed on the line a few more seconds, listening to your breathing, letting the dirty promise hang between you before finally hanging up with a quiet “I love you.”
When he walked back into the bar, Cole raised an eyebrow. “You good, man? You look… worked up.”
Braeden just smirked, grabbing his jacket. “Yeah. I’m heading out. See you guys later.”
The night with the boys was over. He had something much sweeter—and much wetter—waiting for him at home.
The drive back felt endless. Traffic in LA at this hour was a special kind of hell—red lights stretching on forever, horns blaring, while Braeden’s mind raced ahead of him. His cock had been half-hard the entire ride, pressing uncomfortably against his jeans every time he remembered your sleepy voice on the phone. “You’ll have to figure a way to wake me up…”
By the time he finally pulled into the parking spot under your building, he was throbbing. He took the stairs two at a time, keys already in hand, heart pounding with that dark, hungry anticipation.
The apartment was quiet and dark when he stepped inside, just the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the windows. Braeden kicked off his shoes, shrugged off his jacket, and made his way down the hall toward the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar.
He pushed it open slowly.
There you were.
Sprawled out on your stomach in the middle of the bed, completely naked, the sheets tangled around one leg. Your hair was messy across the pillow, and soft little snores escaped you—adorable, innocent, and so fucking tempting. The curve of your bare ass caught the low light, smooth and perfect. Your thighs were slightly parted, giving him just a glimpse of what he’d been craving all night.
Braeden’s breath caught. He stood there in the doorway for a long moment, just drinking you in, his cock now fully hard and straining in his pants.
Then he noticed it.
A little yellow post-it stuck right at eye level on the doorframe:
“you’ll have to figure a way to wake me up babe <3”
A low, filthy chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Oh, pretty girl… you really have no idea what you just signed up for.”
He stepped inside quietly, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His eyes never left your sleeping form as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, letting it drop to the floor. The room smelled like you—your lotion, your shampoo, that warm sleepy scent that always drove him insane. He could already imagine how wet you were going to get for him.
Braeden approached the bed, his gaze dark and predatory, tracing every inch of your naked body. His hand palmed his cock through his jeans, squeezing once to relieve some pressure. He was going to be so good to you… but first, he was going to savor this.
You stirred slightly in your sleep, letting out a soft, unconscious sigh and shifting your hips. The movement made your ass jiggle just a little.
Braeden licked his lips, voice barely a whisper in the dark room. “Such a good girl, waiting for me like this… all naked and ready.”
He climbed onto the bed carefully, the mattress dipping under his weight, but you were still out cold, snoring softly. His large hand hovered just above your lower back, not quite touching yet. The heat radiating from your skin made his mouth water.
“Fuck, look at you… all spread out for me like a needy little slut, pretty girl. You left me that note knowing exactly what I’d do, didn’t you?” He pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the side of your neck, savoring the warmth of your sleeping body. His breath was hot against your skin as he continued whispering, voice thick with lust.
“I’m gonna start by kissing every inch of you… wake this pretty body up nice and slow. Then I’m burying my face between your thighs and eating that sweet pussy until you’re soaking my tongue and begging me to fuck you awake.”
Another kiss, this one lower on your shoulder, teeth grazing lightly. His big hands finally made contact—rough palms sliding up your sides, tracing the curve of your waist, squeezing the soft flesh of your hips. He groaned quietly against your skin, one hand moving down to grip your ass, spreading you just a little as he kneaded it possessively.
“You’re already getting wet for me, aren’t you baby? Even in your sleep… this greedy cunt knows who it belongs to.”
His mouth traveled lower, kissing and sucking along your shoulders and the top of your back, leaving faint marks. His hands roamed everywhere—cupping your tits from behind, rolling your nipples between his fingers until they hardened, then sliding down your stomach, teasing the sensitive skin just above your pussy but not quite touching yet.
You stirred slightly in your sleep, a soft whimper escaping your lips, but your eyes stayed closed, little snores still mixing with unconscious sighs. Braeden smirked against your skin, grinding his hard cock against your thigh through his jeans for a moment, letting you feel how fucking desperate he was.
“Gonna make you cum on my tongue first… then I’m sliding this thick cock so deep inside you, you’ll feel me for days. My good girl… my perfect fucking wife-to-be, waiting naked just so I could ruin her.”
He kissed the back of your neck again, slower this time, more passionate, while one hand dipped between your thighs, fingers brushing teasingly over your folds—feeling the slick heat already gathering there.
Braeden’s hands gripped your hips firmly as he slowly kissed his way down your body, lips trailing hot and wet along your spine. Each press of his mouth was deliberate—slow, open-mouthed kisses that left a glistening path from your shoulders all the way down the elegant curve of your back. He took his time, savoring every inch of your warm, sleeping skin, his breath coming heavier with every second.
When he reached the small of your back, right above that perfect ass, he paused. His eyes dropped lower.
Fuck.
Your pussy was already gushing. Even in your deep sleep, your body was reacting to him—slick, shiny arousal coating your folds and starting to drip slowly down your inner thighs. The sight made his cock jerk hard in his jeans, a low, filthy groan escaping his throat.
“Wow… you’re even a slut when you’re asleep, huh pretty girl?” he whispered, voice thick and dark with lust. “Look at this needy little cunt… gushing all over the sheets just from a few lingering touches. So fucking desperate for me even when you don’t know I’m here.”
He kissed lower, right at the base of your spine, then gently spread your thighs a little wider with both hands. His thumbs brushed the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, spreading the wetness that was leaking out of you. Another soft snore left your lips, completely unaware, but your hips twitched unconsciously, pushing back toward his touch like your body was begging for more.
Braeden licked his lips, eyes locked on your dripping pussy. “That’s my good girl… dripping like a filthy little whore for your man. You left that note knowing I’d come home and find you like this, didn’t you? Naked, snoring, and soaked.”
He leaned in closer, hot breath fanning over your exposed cunt as he placed one more slow, teasing kiss right above your ass. His fingers traced lightly along your slick folds, not pushing in yet—just feeling how wet and ready you already were, how your pussy fluttered at the lightest contact.“Gonna eat this pretty pussy now, baby… wake you up with my tongue buried deep inside you.”
Braeden settled between your spread thighs, his broad shoulders pushing your legs open wider as he lowered his face to your dripping pussy. The scent of you—sweet, musky, and so fucking needy—hit him hard, making his mouth water. He started slow, teasing, exactly like he promised.
He pressed a soft, lingering kiss right at the bottom of your slit, lips brushing against your soaked entrance. Then another… and another… working his way up with gentle, wet little kisses all along your puffy folds. Each one made your slick coat his lips more.
“Mmm… fuck, baby,” he murmured against your cunt, voice vibrating through you. “So wet already. This greedy little pussy is weeping for me.”
He reached your clit and gave it a slow, reverent kiss—lips wrapping around the swollen bud gently, sucking just enough to pull it into his mouth before releasing it with a soft pop. Then another kiss. And another. Worshipping it.
You moaned in your sleep.
A sweet, breathy little sound that went straight to his aching cock. Your hips twitched unconsciously, pushing toward his face as another soft moan slipped from your lips. Your eyes stayed closed, soft snores mixing with the needy whimpers now leaving you, but your body was reacting beautifully—your pussy gushing fresh slick onto his tongue as he kept kissing and licking lazily along your slit.
“That’s it, pretty girl… moan for me even in your dreams,” Braeden groaned, his voice thick and filthy. “You’re such a dirty little slut for me, aren’t you? Snoring away while your cunt drips down my chin.”
He kissed your clit again, slower this time, letting his tongue flick out to trace tight circles around it before sucking it gently between his lips. Your moans grew a little louder, needier, your thighs trembling slightly around his head even though you were still deep in sleep.
Braeden’s hands gripped your ass, spreading you open more as he continued his slow, passionate assault—kissing, licking, and sucking your soaked folds and sensitive clit like he had all the time in the world. He was rock hard and leaking in his jeans, but right now this was all about waking his girl up the filthiest way possible.
Braeden couldn’t hold back any longer. The taste of you—sweet, slick, and dripping down his chin—was driving him fucking feral. With a low, hungry growl against your soaked cunt, he stopped teasing.
He devoured you.
His tongue plunged deep between your folds, licking a long, filthy stripe from your leaking entrance all the way up to your throbbing clit. He did it again, harder, more desperate, burying his face completely in your pussy like a starving man. His mouth worked you open with wet, obscene sounds—sucking, licking, and tongue-fucking your tight hole with long, greedy strokes.
“Fuck… that’s it, baby,” he groaned into your cunt, the vibration making your hips jerk. “Taste so fucking good even when you’re snoring for me.”
Your moans grew louder, needier, turning into breathy whimpers and soft cries in your sleep. Your body was betraying how much you needed him—your pussy gushing fresh wetness all over his tongue and lips as he ate you like he owned you. Braeden’s big hands gripped your ass cheeks hard, spreading you wider so he could bury his tongue even deeper, fucking you with it in steady, filthy thrusts while his nose rubbed against your swollen clit.
He pulled back just enough to spit on your pussy, watching the saliva mix with your juices before diving back in, sucking your clit into his mouth with hard, rhythmic pulls. His tongue flicked fast and relentless over the sensitive bundle of nerves, then flattened to lick broad stripes that had your thighs shaking around his head.
You were still mostly asleep, but your body was responding beautifully—hips grinding weakly against his face, soft little “ah… ah…” moans spilling from your lips, pussy clenching and fluttering around his tongue like it was begging for more.
Braeden was rock hard, painfully trapped in his jeans, leaking pre-cum as he humped the mattress once for relief. But he didn’t stop. He devoured you messily, passionately, hungrily—sucking, licking, and groaning praises into your dripping cunt like a man possessed.
“That’s my dirty girl… cumming on my tongue even in your dreams. Gonna wake you up soaking and screaming my name.”
Your eyes fluttered slowly, heavy with sleep, as pleasure dragged you out of the haze. Soft, needy moans spilled from your lips, louder now, no longer muffled by dreams. Your hips moved on their own—rolling and grinding lazily against Braeden’s face, chasing the relentless heat of his tongue.
Braeden groaned deeply into your soaked pussy, the sound vibrating straight through your core. He could feel you waking up, your movements becoming more intentional, your slick cunt pressing harder against his mouth as you rode his tongue in slow, sleepy circles.
“Mm… Brae?” you whispered, voice hoarse and confused with pleasure, still half-lost in sleep.
He didn’t pull away. Instead, he gripped your hips tighter, holding you down against his face as he continued devouring you—tongue fucking deep into your dripping hole, lips sucking messily on your swollen clit. Your juices coated his chin and cheeks, the obscene wet sounds filling the dark room.
“Shhh… rest, pretty girl,” he murmured against your pussy, voice thick, low, and filthy. “Sleep. I’ll take care of you.”
You whimpered, eyes slipping closed again even as your body kept grinding on his face, hips rocking lazily, chasing the building pleasure. One of your hands fisted the sheets while the other reached back weakly, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer.
Braeden growled in approval, doubling down. He licked you harder, faster, alternating between tongue-fucking your tight cunt and sucking on your clit like it was his favorite meal. His hands spread your ass cheeks wider, thumbs teasing the sensitive skin around your entrance while he ate you with pure hunger.“That’s it, baby… use my face. Grind that needy little pussy on me while you’re still half-asleep. Such a dirty fucking girl for me.”
Your moans turned into soft cries, body trembling as you hovered between sleep and waking, helplessly riding his tongue, getting wetter with every filthy pass of his mouth.
Your body tensed suddenly, hips stuttering against Braeden’s hungry mouth as the pleasure crested hard. Even deep in that sleepy haze, your orgasm hit you like a slow, overwhelming wave.
You came while still mostly asleep.
A broken, whiny moan tore from your throat—“Brae… mmph…”—high and needy, your back arching sharply off the bed. Your pussy clenched and fluttered wildly around nothing, gushing fresh slick all over Braeden’s tongue and chin as your thighs shook around his head. Your hips jerked and ground messily against his face through every pulse, soft little whimpers and whines spilling continuously from your parted lips.
Braeden groaned loudly into your cunt, the vibration only prolonging it. But as you trembled and arched, he gentled his mouth instantly—switching to slow, soothing, worshipful licks. His tongue dragged flat and gentle over your pulsing clit, lapping up every drop of your release with tender, passionate strokes. No more devouring. Just soft, loving licks, kissing your swollen folds, drinking you down like you were the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.
“Fuck… that’s my good girl,” he whispered reverently against your dripping pussy, voice hoarse and thick with lust. “Cumming so pretty for me even in your sleep… look at you arching that back like a needy little slut. So fucking perfect.”
He kept licking you gently through the aftershocks, slow and careful, prolonging the pleasure without overwhelming your sensitive body. His hands stroked your thighs and hips soothingly, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin as you whimpered and twitched, slowly sinking back into the mattress. Your breathing was ragged, soft snores mixing with little after-moans, eyes still closed but your body glowing with release.
Braeden pressed one last soft, open-mouthed kiss to your clit, then rested his cheek against your inner thigh for a moment, staring up at your flushed, sleeping face with dark, adoring eyes. His cock was aching, straining painfully against his jeans, but he was in no rush.
