DEEEE. CALEB, CALEB AND **** KINK. JSAJKWJHREUSIJKASNASJKSNA KMS.
caleb x f!reader — 18+, watersports, fingering
“you know you never have to be embarrassed about anything with me.”
caleb’s voice is soft and soothing, a reassuring caress against the shell of your ear as he cups you through your damp cotton panties.
you shiver at the sincerity of it, because you know he means it.
he’s always meant it with you.
he gently rubs the swollen button of your clit and kisses your temple, and your let your eyes flutter shut when the familiar scent of his body wash and cologne floods your senses as he holds you close.
(it makes your mouth water, leaves your tongue heavy between your cheeks.)
“it’s okay if you like this,” he murmurs when you tighten the grip of your fingers on his sweatshirt as a wet dribble escapes you, soaking right into the spot where he’s diligently massaging your folds through the fabric.
“caleb—“ you whimper, trembling slightly, dizzy with a need you can’t even begin to describe.
you bury your face in his shoulder, hips jerking with the shiver of pleasure that runs down your spine as a fresh splash of wetness soaks your panties when he lightly pinches your clit.
he cups the side of your face, his mouth warm and plush against your slick, parted lips. “don’t hide from me.”
sticky, wet cotton scrapes against your tight hole as he begins to finger you through your panties—as deep as the fabric will allow.
“i can’t hold it anymore,” you say against his mouth, chest heaving with the desperation of the mounting pressure in your bladder.
caleb hooks a finger in your panties, tugging them aside, and you choke out a gasp as he slides the digit into the tight, wet grip of your cunt.
he kisses the corner of your mouth when you whimper, adding another finger as he spreads your thighs even further apart and begins to thrust in and out of your dripping hole. “i don’t want you to hold it.”
more piss leaks out of you as you reach the end of your rope, leaving each deep pump of his fingers accompanied by a soaking wet squelch.
“are you su—“
he curls his fingers, lips sliding against yours as he breathes out, “let go.”
a hot, slick gush of piss rushes out of you.
caleb groans, low and deep, kissing you hard, long fingers buried in your pussy as you piss all over them.
your thighs shake almost violently as you moan, fingers tangled in caleb’s hair as an intense, white-hot feeling like nothing you’ve never know shoots down your spine.
and you lose track of it, the moment when the pleasure of pissing while caleb fucks you on his fingers morphs into the pleasure of climaxing on them.
“good girl,” caleb sounds just as wrecked as you feel as he gently plays with the slick mess between your legs.
you inhale sharply from the overstimulation, and he chuckles softly under his breath.
(and it makes you wonder, as he pushes the heel of his palm against the erection tented at the front of his pants, what it’d be like to let go on his cock instead.)
im not gonna lie to anyone here ive been fantasizing about impregnating tianlang-jun and pampering him. he will complain so much but i am so grossly in love with him that I Just Do Not Care
in my babysitter au he'd do some nasty shit like laugh in my face and say "if that's what you think, then sure" so i delude myself into thinking we could be something more when he could not be any clearer that i'm nothing more than the stupid babysitter to his stupid son and an occasional lay. he'd always book me a ride from uni and pay for my groceries. it's standard human decency and i, completely inexperienced and hopelessly romantic, think he's in love with me too FUHHHHHHHHHH
i never had the life changing queer experience they put on tv because i realized i might like girls in college and that didnt pan out for me either since, well, i was a dick
shinsuke is, for all intents and purposes, a man of altruistic nature.
he holds himself in no higher regard than the wise-eyed crow that watches him kneel in the garden before sunrise, or the spider that’s found a home in the corner of the window above the kitchen sink. he’s but one of the many blades of grass in the lush fields out back, a single raindrop amongst the downpour that slides from the eavestroughs when the clouds grow heavy with moisture.
he’s spent a life wanting for nothing not because he has everything, but rather because he’s never quite concerned himself with how full the glass is—he’s just thankful to have water at all.
but as he gazes down at you now on the ground beneath him, at the streaks of dirt on your blue dress and the wildflower petals stuck haphazardly in your hair, eyes bright and smile wide and the echo of your laughter ringing in his ears—
as he leans in to kiss you and feels the knocking of your heart against his ribcage, as the promise of thunder rumbles in the distance—
as you card your fingers through his hair and wrap your legs around his waist on this warm summer afternoon—
as you gasp his name like a prayer—
it begins to rain.
and shinsuke, with a clarity cold as the droplets dripping down the back of his neck and hot as the blistering, aching place where your bodies meet, finds that for once, he understands what men would do for greed.
your husband offers you a small, curious smile as you quietly eye him over the rim of your mug from where you’re perched on the sofa.
kita shinsuke’s volleyball days are long over, the slide of sneakers across hardwood floors under fluorescent lights a distant memory now when his fingers sink into the cool earth at sunrise to the tune of frog calls and birdsong.
and yet you still find him here each morning on routine in the middle of the living room floor—black briefs straining against his thick, muscled thighs as he stretches. his hair’s always still a little mussed from bed. and more often than not, you’re usually afforded a peak at a taut, tanned sliver of skin from his chest or back when his white t-shirt rides up as he bends and moves.
steam from your tea coils lazily in the air between your watchful eyes and his amused gaze.
