you hear the door click open and the familiar shuffle of john coming back from practice, his duffel hitting the floor with a soft thud.
he doesn’t even spare you a glance, immediately muttering something about drills and how coach was on his ass again, not even looking up as he takes off his shoes and heads straight for the desk where his laptop sits open.
you’ve been waiting, standing there in the middle of the room wearing nothing but delicate black lace that hugs your curves just right, the material doing little to hide anything, tiny bows at your hips and between your breasts catching the low light. he doesn’t notice. not at first.
“john,” you call softly, but he’s already typing, shoulders hunched, completely focused on whatever assignment or schedule he’s pulling up.
you try again, a little louder this time. “johnnn” you drag on. still nothing. he’s lost in his own world, his fingers flying over the keys, the only sound in the room the quiet click of the keys and his occasional sigh.
you take a slow step closer, the lace shifting against your skin with every movement.
“john. logan.” this time your voice carries a little more frustration, enough to make him pause.
he glances over his shoulder, distracted, his eyebrows drawn together like he’s about to give up completely.
then his eyes land on you.
his mouth opens, breath catching hard enough that you see his chest stop and inhale heavily. the assignment is forgotten, the laptop screen dimming as he turns fully, and before you can even smile he’s dropping straight to his knees on the carpet of his bedroom floor.
the sound is a soft thud but like every ounce of tension leaves his body at once. his hands rest on his thighs, palms open, and those hungry, yearning eyes lift to meet yours, they’re wide, dark, almost pleading.
“come to me, baby” he says, voice low and rough, every word wrapped in that same aching need that makes your stomach flip. he almost sounded like he wanted to cry. your poor baby was so overworked.
you take the few steps that close the distance, and the second you’re within reach his hands are on you, gentle at first, his fingertips tracing the edge of the fabric at your hips before sliding up, palms warm against your skin. he leans in, pressing his face right against your stomach, breathing you in like he’s been starved for it.
a soft, shaky exhale leaves him, and you feel the shake in his shoulders as he holds himself back from pulling you down too fast.
his fingers hook under the thin straps at your hips, not tugging, just holding, feeling the texture of the lace against his skin. he looks up again, those same puppy eyes darker now, lashes low, and you can see how hard he’s fighting to stay still, to let you come to him the way he asked.
the clear yearning is there, enough that you feel it in your own pulse.
you thread your nails through his hair, and that’s all it takes for him to surge forward, mouth pressing open kisses along the line of lace just above your navel, tongue flicking out to taste skin wherever the fabric allows.
his hands slide around to cup your ass, squeezing once before he drags you even closer, burying his face between your thighs without hesitation. the lace is already damp from how wet you are, and he moans against it, the sound vibrating straight through you. “john” you moan quietly.
he doesn’t rush. he stays on his knees, worshipping every inch he can reach, kissing the inside of your thigh, the sheer thin covering your pussy, breathing hot and heavy until you’re rocking against his mouth without meaning to.
his tongue presses flat through the fabric, licking slow and deliberate, soaking the lace even more until it clings to you. every time you tug his hair he groans, the sound needy and desperate, and he looks up again with those same hungry eyes like he’s asking permission to keep going, to pull the delicate material aside and finally taste you properly.
when you nod, his fingers are quick but careful, easing the lace down your hips just enough to bare you to him. he doesn’t stand up yet.
he stays right there on the floor, pulling you forward until your thighs cover his face, and then his mouth is on your bare pussy, tongue sliding through your folds, lips sealing around your clit to suck gently before he flattens his tongue again and laps at you like he’s been thinking about this all day. “ugh, you- you make me feel so good johnny.”
his hands grip your ass tighter, holding you steady while he eats you out with slow, thorough strokes that make your knees shake. if it wasn’t for his grip on your ass, you would’ve fallen to the floor by now.
you can feel how turned on he is, the hard outline of his cock against his sweats, but he doesn’t touch himself. he just keeps his focus on you, licking and sucking until your hips are rolling against his mouth and soft sounds are slipping from your throat.
every few seconds he glances up, checking your face with those same yearning eyes, like your pleasure is the only thing that matters in the world right now.
when your thighs start to tremble harder he pulls back just enough to press a kiss to your clit, then another lower, tongue dipping inside you for a moment before he stands in one fluid motion.
his arms wrap around you, lifting you easily, and he carries you the short distance to the bed without ever looking away from your face.
he lays you down carefully, the lace still tangled around one thigh, and climbs over you, settling between your spread legs.
he kisses you then, so deep, slow, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, while his hand works between your bodies to shove his sweats down just far enough. the head of his cock nudges against your entrance, hot and slick from how ready you both are, and he pauses there, forehead resting against yours, breathing hard.
“tell me you want this honey,” he whispers, voice wrecked, eyes searching yours like he needs the words as much as the act itself.
when you pull him closer and say yes, he sinks into you in one smooth thrust, burying himself to the deepest he can with a groan that vibrates through both of you.
he stays still for a moment, just feeling you around him, then starts to move, slow at first, rolling his hips so every stroke drags against that perfect spot inside you.
his hands never stop moving, sliding over the lace still clinging to your body, fingers tracing every strap and bow like he’s memorizing the way it looks on you.
he leans down to kiss the swell of your breast above the cup of the bra, teeth grazing lightly before he sucks a mark there, claiming you even as he fucks you deeper. the bed creaks under the steady rhythm he sets, each thrust pushing you higher, and he keeps his eyes on your face the whole time, watching every reaction, every flutter of your lashes when he hits just right.
you come first, clenching around him hard enough that his rhythm falters, and he follows right after, burying his face in your neck as he spills inside you with a broken moan, hips jerking through the aftershocks.
he doesn’t pull out right away. he stays there, cock still twitching, pressing soft kisses along your jaw and whispering how beautiful you look, how much he needed this, how he’ll never get tired of seeing you like this just for him. “you’re just so perfect baby.” he whimpers into your neck. “i’d do anything for you. anything, i promise.”
~ ~ ~ ~
a/n: as it’s clear, i’ve been heavily into my logan era, specifically yearning logan. this is based off this request! requests are open! 💗
It's currently almost 2 in the morning and your getting ready for bed after drinking and partying all night.
Knock
Knock
Knock
You try to ignore the knocking, wanting to go to sleep.
Knock
Knock
No matter how much you tried to ignore it, the knocking just got louder and louder until you couldn't stand it anymore.
Standing up from your bed, you storm towards the door ready to throw hands at the person behind the door.
Pulling the door open, you open your mouth, ready to shout at the person but then before you could react, a pair of large arms suddenly wrap around your body.
"Huh?" You yelped.
"Y/n" he mumbles.
Your eyes widen, recognizing his voice.
A deep flush of red spreads across your face.
"Ace? What are you doing" you try to move away slightly but failed.
His grip on your body tightened slightly at the feeling of you moving.
"Mhm, why baby?" He whispers in your ear.
"Why won't you m'just look at me?" he sniffled.
"What? Why huh?" you asked, confused.
He trembled against you, and you could feel tears soaking your shirt.
"Ace?" you pull back a little, just to meet his gaze.
His hold on you loosens a little, letting you pull back a little.
His black hair was messy and all over the place. A flush of pink spread across his face. He looked drunk and exhausted, trying hard not to let the tears in his eyes fall down again.
You cup his cheek, and wiped the tears falling from his eyes. "What's wrong?"
He leaned onto your touch, tilting his face onto your hand.
"You're what's wrong" He grumbled.
“You looked so happy talking to that guy tonight,” Ace muttered, refusing to meet your eyes.
“The one that kept flirting with you.”
You frowned slightly. “Really? I dont even know the guy.”
“That doesn't really matter” he whispered.
“He got your attention so easily” He chuckled
“And I’ve been trying forever and you just brush me away”
Your chest tightened at his words.
“Ace…”
“I know I flirt a lot,” he explained. “But Im serious about you”
For a moment, all you could do was stare at him.
“I thought you were joking around” you admitted softly.
“You act like that with everyone, so I didn’t think you were serious and I was scared of embarrassing myself” you explained.
Ace finally looked up at you, eyes red and glassy. “So you really didn’t know?”
You shook your head before pressing your lips on his cheek.
“Please mommy let me cum…” he whines out thrusting his big cock into my hand looking at me with pleading eyes.
“Mmm idk if I should baby, I don’t think you’ve been a good boy.” I smirk watching him pump his needy cock into my hand.
I pin his hips down stopping him from thrusting making him whine, I love when he whines and begs. It’s like music to my ears.
“Please mommy I’ll be good, I’ll be so good just let your good boy cum.”
I stroke his cock slowly and painfully. He lets out a choked moan throwing his head back gripping the sheets wanting more.
“Look at me.” I say firmly using my other hand wrapping it around his throat gripping it adding pressure, while my other hand stroke his cock picking up the pace.
He lets out a shaky loud whimper from the pleasure and the lack of air he’s receiving and, he obeys looking at me.
“Mmm good boy, you wanna cum hm?”
He nods pleadingly, like a cute puppy. Tear spilling down his cheek from the overwhelming pleasure he’s receiving.
“I want to hear you say it, speak.”
He lets out a groan and speaks out the words he can while being choked.
“Please mommy, I want cum so bad. Let your good boy cum for you.”
I speed up stroking his cock watching his eyes roll back giving him what he wants, rubbing his precum over his tip with my thumb. He so beautiful like this.
“Cum.” I demand.
His breathing gets heavier and his abs flex. His cock twitches in my hand getting closer to cumming in my hand.
“Fuckkk mommy thank you, thank you.” He moans and whines out before shooting his load into my hand while pump his cock.
“Good boy, you always do so well for mommy.”
-
I love being dominant, and he loves being dominated.
Yours - Conan Gray (feat. Caleb x gn!depressed!mc) 2.2k words
Ever since Caleb had walked back into your life, he found himself wondering if it was truly you he reunited with. Sure, he knew that in the span of a year, you’d probably mature a little, busy working, and grieving him. But he didn’t realize that you were slipping away from his fingers, even after finally dating.
At first, he assumed you were fighting inner turmoil and thoughts once he came back. Maybe mad at him, still in shock, trauma. But you were much more quieter.
You used to be talkative.
Talk until you bit off Caleb’s ears for hours. Whether it was about Grandma’s unfair rules, your favourite show, favourite artists, your hunter dreams, and he didn’t mind.
Now you didn’t speak unless spoken too. And whenever you did talk, it didn’t have that playful lilt to it. It more sounded clipped, and rehearsed.
“Y’know, you used to talk so much I thought your mouth would hurt. Now it feels like I’m talkin’ to myself.” Caleb once remarked. Playful but a tiny concerned. You laughed. Fake. “Yeah, I noticed how annoying it was.”
But it wasn’t.
not to him.
He could listen to you yap for hours. He also noticed you not only weren’t as talkative, but much more reserved. It took Caleb an absurd amount of time to try and get you out of the house.
“Come on, pips. Look, I’ll even pay..” and you wouldn’t give him a definite answer. A grimace and looking away. But he could tell you didn’t want to go. That was also another thing. You didn’t tell him what you were thinking. When he asked you a question, you’d say yes, when your body language said no. It got more difficult for him to actually read you.
You had a blank expression on your face, occasionally giving small smiles or slightly raised eyebrows to show emotion.
You didn’t get nails colourful and vibrant as they used to be. You wore hoodies and baggy clothes instead of your bold outfits or shorts. Your ideal date with him was staying at home.
You didn’t put up fights anymore. If someone was being rude to you, you just accepted it rather than defending yourself.
If someone invited you out, you made excuses.
Caleb was hurt.
Not because directly at you, but the fact that his lover wouldn’t tell him what’s going on. Any attempt of trying to make you open up, you’d brush it off. Not even an argument of him pestering you. You’d just give him a quick peck on the cheek.
“Don’t worry about me Caleb. M’fine.” But you weren’t. Was it depression? Agoraphobia? Anxiety? Caleb found himself endlessly researching about why you were acting like this. It wasn’t even a subtle change, it was like you were a whole different person. He then stumbled upon something.
An artist that had left music that was making a comeback again. Specifically your favourite artist that also became his favourite. Something that bonded you two together even more back then, if that was possible. He scored tickets, and had a huge smile on his face. Was this finally the way to break out of this endless spiral you were in? “Pips, guess what I just got?” And he pulled out tickets and handed them to you, impatiently waiting for your excitement. But it didn’t come.
You plastered a smile. “Oh! Oh my gosh, this is crazy.” “You don’t seem excited.” Caleb smiled, confused. You looked down, kicking you feet and twiddling your thumbs. “Well, I’m not really a huge fan anymore, and honestly, you should go with Gideon or someone..” Caleb could feel his heart breaking by the second.
“Oh, alright sweetheart.” He responded. And he walked away. It wasn’t about the damn concert tickets. It was about that he didn’t even know you anymore. The one thing that bonded the two of you was broken. You drifted away further.
Conversations with Caleb were forced. And short.
Sleeping with him didn’t feel as comforting as it should’ve been. And fights broke out more. Caleb was running out of patience.
Of false hope that you’d tell him every single time.
“You just shut me out!” He once had outburst, after you told him once again, that you were fine. You don’t look at him. “Stop asking me the same question. You’ll get the same answer.” You said, tersely. “It feels like I’m dating a fucking wall sometimes.” He muttered. And you tense up. Eyes unreadable but looking slightly hurt. He looks up.
“Sweetheart, I didn’t-“
“you did.” And you walk away, back to your room as he’s left in your apartment living room, sitting on the couch and sighing heavily. He slept on the couch that night. Giving space, and seeming like he was giving up trying to fight his losing battle.
He couldn’t give up on you. But he was giving up in bringing, you back. His pipsqueak, his lover. When caleb leaves for work again, having to go back to Skyhaven, he doesn’t make a large deal. He learnt not to, because you would just make it seem like a small inconvenience he was leaving.
He gave you a hug and kissed your forehead. “Make sure to eat. I prepared some leftovers for ya’. I’ll be back in three weeks, alright? I’ll text you. I love you.” You hug him back. Resting your head on his chest. “I love you too.” In those three weeks however, you don’t text him.
He spam texts you, and you leave him on delivered. Every call is silenced from Do Not Disturb that was on your phone. He worried by the second. No news update from you. Until he got a call. From the hospital. Your friend had found you on the floor, pills, tablets and medicine all scattered all over the floor.
You had overdosed. Caleb immediately turned back from his mission, regardless if it was important or not. He sped over to Linkon’s Akso Hospital, and demanded your room number. You rested on a hospital’s bed, alive - luckily you were found fairly quick, and asleep.
Caleb couldn’t make out anything the nurse was explaining to him about, instead, a large ringing accompanied with his heartbeat in his head sounded, blaring all over. When the nurse closed the door after her, giving him some space, he walked over to you, reached out to your face, your soft skin and his leathered gloves making contact.
Caleb fell to his knees, and buried his head in the crook of your neck, sobbing.
Sobbing because he didn’t know what to do anymore.
Sobbing because he couldn’t even help the person that mattered the most to him, and was now lying in a hospital room.
Sobbing because he couldn’t live without you, even if it was slowly killing him either way.
“Please baby. Just tell me what’s going on. Your Gege won’t judge you, won’t resent you. Come on, I’ll make it all right again.”
He rambled on, voice breaking and his words trembling.
“I’ll buy you your dream house, and… and we can live there together. I’ll cook all your favourite foods. Every day. You won’t have to lift a… lift any finger.” His body trembled as he felt your cold stiff body. “Gege will make everything right. Gege loves you too much to stop.” He whispered brokenly.
Warnings: Suggestive content, power dynamics, emotional intimacy, light possessiveness
Summary: The playful one who talks too much until silence unravels him. The gentle one who finally lets himself be held. The confident one who gives in first.
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Woonhak — The one who talks too much… until you silence him
Woonhak never stays still.
He talks, laughs, comments on what you’re watching on your phone—what he thinks, what he feels. All at once.
“Hey, what if—”
“Woonhak.”
You don’t raise your voice. You don’t touch him.
You just say his name, looking straight at him.
He stops. Blinks.
“What?”
You step a little closer, calmly invading his space.
“Nothing. Keep talking.”
But he can’t.
He laughs nervously, runs a hand over the back of his neck, like he suddenly doesn’t know what to do with so much attention focused on him.
“That’s not fair…” he murmurs. “When you look at me like that, I forget everything.”
And you realize that the loudest, brightest boy
turns adorably obedient when you’re the one setting the pace.
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Riwoo — The one who takes care… until you ask him to be taken care of
Riwoo goes still, like he’s waiting for instructions that never come.
He takes a deep breath. Lowers his guard.
“I’m not used to this…” he admits. “To not being the one in charge.”
You smile and rest your forehead against his.
“Let me do it today.”
And in that soft silence, Riwoo understands he doesn’t have to hold everything together all the time.
That with you, he can simply let go.
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Jaehyun — The one who flirts… until he’s the one who gives in
Jaehyun drops down beside you on the bed like he weighs nothing, exaggerating a sigh just to get your attention.
“Not even a ‘hi’?” he murmurs, stretching a little closer. “You’re so cruel to your own boyfriend.”
You keep staring at the ceiling, pretending you don’t care.
That’s enough for him to move first.
He turns onto his side to face you, head propped up on one hand, watching you with that open smile he always wears when he wants something. His knees brush against yours; he doesn’t fully invade your space, like he’s waiting for permission.
“You know that when you ignore me…” he says softly, “…I get nervous.”
His fingers toy with the fabric of your shirt, not lifting it, not daring to. He looks at your face, searching for a reaction. Nothing.
Jaehyun swallows.
“See?” he lets out a small, embarrassed laugh. “That’s not fair. You know I give in too easily.”
He leans closer until his forehead rests against yours. He doesn’t kiss you. He just stays there, still, breathing the same air, as if that tiny closeness is enough to undo him.
“Say something,” he whispers. “Or I’m going to think you don’t love me today.”
When you finally lift your hand and brush his cheek, Jaehyun relaxes instantly. He exhales. Smiles like he’s just won the greatest prize.
“Ah…” he murmurs. “That. That’s all I wanted.”
He curls up against your chest without shame, wrapping his arms around you—too close, too trusting.
“I promise I’ll behave,” he says, even though you both know it’s a lie. “But only if you keep touching me.”
And in the way he stays there, clinging, attentive to every little movement you make…
