rei

smut/suggestive = ⭑

requests: closed

the cross peeking thru….. can u tell ur sunday morning stories take over me

the fact that he always tucks it in his shirt makes me #think

sunday comes and he's above you, his motions are big and his hips move so erratically the chain eventually slips out and dangles in between you. at first, the guilt gets to him. it starts deep in his gut and seeps into every limb, it makes his bones feel brittle, like he's about to cave in at any moment. he almost wants to feel shame, and regret what he's doing but the moment the cross hits your face, the tip of it hitting your nose then lowers and settles at the space between your eyes and the bridge of your nose. immediately, heat pools deep in his stomach and his thighs start to feel tingly. before he knows it he's already shooting long streaks of cum across your abdomen.

would you guys believe there is a part 2 of will bringing you home ✌️

omg yes!! little fun fact this blog was supposed to be dedicated to zb1 but i was too lazy to come out with anything lol.

and to answer your other question i stan a bunch of groups like nct😭😭😭😭, bnd, cortis (kind of), svt, and a lot more but those are what i could think of rn

cali was never a worry to macklin. she was well-trained, which he always attributed it to her loyalty. though, right in this moment, he felt that cali was the very least loyal she could be. 

he had just left the café, expecting the familiar golden tuft of hair to be where he left it, right by the entrance. when all he could see was the grey of the concrete, his heart filled with dread and subsequently dropped to his stomach.

he had come to regret all his decisions. how could he choose a place that didn’t allow pets inside? why couldn’t he have walked the few blocks to a café he knew did? 

he was growing frantic by the second, hands brushing through his floppy hair. she couldn’t have gone far, right? he thought.

scanning his surroundings for any clue where she might have gone, his eyes landed on a small patch of green. maybe she was in that small park she always loved running around in.

he couldn’t waste any time. at first, he walked at a fast pace, then jogged, then possibly almost ran to the area. he couldn’t care less if the coffee in his hand spilled over, coating his tightening grasp.

you felt that if you died in this moment, you would die content. seated beneath the wide canopy of a tree, you leaned back against its sturdy trunk, the grass a soft cushion beneath you. a gentle breeze brushed against your skin, and the shade overhead offered a welcome refuge from the sweltering afternoon heat. 

breathing out a quiet sigh of contentment, grateful for the stillness around you, you pulled out your book, deciding that today you would finish reading it.

flipping through the pages, you were about to reach the bookmark you had left when your calf was suddenly met with a slimy, wet sensation left cold by the breeze. moving the book aside, you were preparing yourself for the worst. instead, you were met with a face that left you with the aggression to softly—and with the pitch you could atone to the highest note of the piano—say, “hi baby!” drawing out the last syllable.

your heart burst at the sight, a golden retriever with a stick by your feet. could today get any better? 

your hand seemed to move on its own, petting, scratching, and patting met with the small huffing and whining of a dog enjoying itself.

you laughed, feeling for a collar this time. “let’s see if you’ve been bad and ran away…” you drifted off and flipped the pendant to find its name.

“cali!” as soon as you said it, the dog lunged toward you with its paws against your lap, tail wagging.

you can’t help but indulge in this moment further. sure cali’s owner was probably freaking out right now but you figured she was safer in your care than wandering around the streets.

you decide to shower the dog with affection a minute longer, eventually deciding to sit against the trunk once more, cali decidedly sprawled herself across your lap, entirely unbothered by the fact that she just wandered off and her rightful owner is probably looking for her in a panic.

you scratch just beneath her chin, “you are such a sweetheart, you know that?” you murmur, laughing at her tail thumping enthusiastically against the grass.

“you are not helping your case at all, cali. gosh i could just take you home right now.” the dog sat up to lick your cheek.

“cali!”

the shout cuts through the sweet moment between you, additionally catching the attention of the people in a few meters radius. cali stops her licking as her ears perk up immediately. and before you could even look to where the voice was coming from, she scrambles off your lap, paws running you over as she bolts towards the loud sound.

your gaze followed until it found an auburn-haired man making his way across the park, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. one hand still clutches an iced coffee that's somehow survived the ordeal, the other braces itself against his knee as he bends over. "there you are..." he exhales.

cali wastes no time in throwing herself against him. he laughs—a breathless, relieved sound—as both hands come up to cradle either side of her face, his coffee forgotten somewhere on the grass. "you scared the hell out of me." he breathed out.

macklin relished in her affection and only then does he look up and his eyes meet yours. "oh," he says.

he looked surprised. he'd been so focused on finding his dog that he'd forgotten there could be another person at the end of this search. you awkwardly brush a few blades of grass from your clothes before approaching him.

"i– uh..." you point toward cali, who's already weaving between the two of you as if she hadn't caused several years to wear off from her owner. "she found me."

"oh yeah, i can see that." he let out a small laugh, sounding more relieved than amused.

"i left her outside a café for, like, five minutes." he rubs the back of his neck, looking equal parts embarrassed and guilty. "came back and she was gone."

you gasp dramatically, turning to the culprit herself. "oh no cali, you have been naughty!" you scold the dog, pointing at her nose. 

cali blinks up at you with the most unconvincing expression of innocence before deciding this conversation no longer concerns her. she trots off a few steps, picks up the stick she'd abandoned earlier, and proudly parades it back over, tail wagging so hard her entire body sways with it.

you narrow your eyes at her. "...was she pretending she didn't know what she did?"

he huffs out a laugh. "oh, she knows." he watches as cali deliberately shoves the branch toward you instead of him.

"seriously?” 

you bite back a laugh. "i think she likes me more."

"traitor," he mutters, shaking his head at the dog. "i feed you like, every day!"

cali responds with another eager nudge of the stick against your shoe. he watches the exchange with narrowed eyes before letting out a defeated sigh.

"you know..." he says thoughtfully, "she's never done this before."

"really?"

"no." he smiles. "usually she has the decency to wait a few minutes before trying to replace me."

you laugh, the sound bright enough to make him grin right back. he would have just said about anything just to see that smile again. "or..." he points between you and the dog. "she's trying to tell me something."

you furrow your eyebrows. "like what?"

he looks down at cali, who was happily laying between the two of you with the stick balanced across her paws, completely content with herself. "probably that i owe her a treat…" he drifts off and you hum in agreement, nodding along.

"and maybe..." his gaze returns to yours, a little more tentative now. "that i should probably ask for your name before she decides to follow you home instead." you chuckle at his attempt to win you over.

"i'm macklin, by the way." he stumbles over his words.

you tell him your name.

"see?" he nods toward cali, "she's already doing introductions for me."

you glance at her. she only panted happily, blissfully unaware that she'd nearly shave a few year's off his life before playing matchmaker instead.

"you know..." he says, trying—and failing—to sound casual. "coffee."

he glanced down at the half-empty cup on the grass and laughs at himself.

"...preferably somewhere that actually allows dogs."

you pretended to think about it, lips pursing as your gaze drifts from him to cali and back again. "hmmm…"

"that's not a yes."

"well it's not a no either."

a hopeful smile found its way onto his face before he could stop it. "i'll take it."

you looked down at the golden retriever sprawled comfortably between the two of you, who had, at some point, rolled onto her back in silent demand for more attention. she let out a tiny whine, paw twitching ever so slightly as if reminding you she was still there.

"you know," you muse, obliging her request by squatting down to scratch behind her ears, "i think she's only pretending this was an accident."

macklin follows your gaze, his expression softening the moment it lands on his dog. "she’s got that look."

you looked up, tilting your head. "what look?"

"the one that says she knows exactly what she's doing."

and then, almost as if she'd understood every word that had just been said about her, cali nudged the stick closer to the two of you before resting her chin on top of it, eyes lazily flicking between you and her owner.

"i've been trying to tell people she's smarter than she lets on." he shakes his head with a disbelieving laugh, still unable to believe she'd wandered off only to somehow stumble across you. "i always thought she was just friendly."

"but now?"

he glances at you, then back at cali, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips before he answers.

"...now i'm starting to think she's a better wingman than most of my friends."

a laugh escapes you before you can stop it, light and bubbly.

he decides, then and there, that losing his dog for five terrifying minutes might've been the luckiest thing that's happened to him all week.

you never thought that this day would ever come. you wouldn't even entertain the thought. the very idea was ridiculous—that someone who you regularly fuck every sunday after mass would suddenly want to bring you home for brunch with his family? it felt like a joke just waiting to punch you in the gut.

you stare at him for a while, not believing that those words just came out his mouth, you were waiting for the catch. there has to be one.

because people like you and will don't do brunches with parents and siblings. you do lingering looks across pews. you do excuses to stay behind after everyone leaves. you do indescribable things inside will's bronco that the thought alone has you clenching your legs.

"c'mon, it'll be fun."

how could you say no when he says it so innocently?

that's how you find yourself standing in front of the smith household a few minutes later.

and it is, unfortunately, exactly what you'd expect.

the lawn is trimmed. the flower beds are neat. there's a small cross hanging beside the front door and a wreath that somehow still manages to look seasonal despite being completely bland. everything is painfully normal.

the inside is undoubtedly worse.

family photos line the walls. school portraits. a variety of hockey sticks propped up against a corner. vacation pictures. framed bible verses. there's even a bowl of decorative fruit on the kitchen counter. who actually owns decorative fruit?

you glance at will and he gives you a wide, shit-eating grin, entirely too pleased by your visible discomfort.

everything in his house is clean. everything matches. everything looks like it belongs in some church newsletter. and somehow you've ended up here, sitting at their dining table.

with his family.

you're seated to will's right, directly across his mother. you can hardly look her in the eye, and every time you do, you could barely muster a smile. your muscles are tight with nerves—maybe with something more.

maybe with the heated touch of will's wide hand on your thigh.

you nearly choke on your orange juice when his mother smiles at you from across the table.

"you know, will," she begins casually, cutting into her pancakes, "i'm so glad you finally brought home such a beautiful, nice catholic girl."

your soul immediately leaves your body.

a nice catholic girl.

it reverberates through your head.

the worst part is that when you try to speak—to protest, be humble and tell her you aren't nearly as good as she makes you out to be—will's hand moves farther up your thigh. your flowy skirt allows an easy route for his palm to find your already embarrassingly wet core.

you look over to him in shock, eyes wide and shaking your head as if your body wasn't telling him to go on.

even more surprising is that he looks way too calm for what he's doing. his face isn't even a little bit flushed. a small, innocent smile paints his face, eyes finding yours.

he laughs and looks back at his mother sitting across from you. "she's just being polite."

will's mom lets out one of those loud, motherly laughs as her hands brushes the thought away. "oh don't be, honey! you know... i could just tell that you'd be good for will."

heat rises to your cheeks, partly from her compliment, but mostly from will's warm palm moving against you, the fabric of your underwear does nothing but increase your anticipation and eagerness.

above the table, the discussion continues. will's mom figures you might be too shy to talk.

that was only half of it.

you can't talk. you're scared that if you do so much as open your mouth to drink, a whimper will escape. will's middle finger slots between your folds, you feel him and don't at the same time. you really wish you hadn't worn underwear.

you stare absentmindedly at the wall trying not to notice how your clit drags along the length of his finger. it's fucking irritating. he's talking normally, eating with his left hand while his right pets your cunt with just enough pressure that has your thighs clenching.

the pads of his fingers works its way to your clit, you breathe a small sigh of relief, a small reprieve from the suffering he's caused, surely. you were wrong, so fucking wrong because a sharp sting travels through your small bundles of nerves. you look down to see his fingertips drumming, thumping and lightly slapping against your clit—a punishment, a small slap on the wrist for being too caught up in the feeling between your legs.

this new sensation—small shocks of pleasure radiating to your thighs. it's not enough to bring you over the edge but enough to keep you unraveling.

your thighs are shaking against their will. your pursed lips are not enough to keep your noises from coming out so you bite on them. it doesn't take a much to notice the change in your posture, tense and high strung and will is no exception. he leans in, so much that his lips grazes the shell of your ear. "fix yourself. or i'll stop."

he sits right back up, fingers unrelenting against your center. he digs his fingers, middle and ring, between your slit yet never moves your panties to the side, choosing to let it move with his digits. it's so fucking close to something and with how he's been teasing you for god knows how long, it almost sends you over the edge.

you almost keel over, thighs absolutely trembling. will doesn't waste a second in removing his hand away from you and, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, reaches for one of the dinner rolls in the basket between you. he tears off a piece, brushes the crumbs from his hand, and absentmindedly licks his damp fingers before taking a bite.

"these are really good," he says innocently, nodding toward the bread basket. "did you make these?"

his mom smiles proudly. "i did, actually."

"yeah?" he hums, taking another bite. "they're amazing."

you can only stare at your plate, praying no one notices the way your breaths gone shaky.

"are you okay?" his sister asks, tilting her head. "you look a little pale."

before you can even think of an excuse, will answers for you. "she's been studying since, like, five this morning," he says easily, reaching for his glass. "i told her she should've taken a nap instead."

"will," you mumble under your breath. he only shrugs, finally looking over at you with the picture of innocence and murmuring, "what? i'm helping."

"well," his mom says sympathetically, "make sure she gets another pancake. studying on an empty stomach is never a good idea."

you force out a smile. "thank you." beside you, will quietly reaches for another dinner roll, looking every bit like the perfect, catholic boy.

if anyone at the table notices the tiny, smug fucking smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, they probably would have guessed what happened beneath the table.

he leans over just enough that his shoulder brushes yours, keeping his eyes on his plate as he lowers his voice.

"you good?"

you shoot him a look, enough for him to realize you're cursing him out in every possible way you could think of.

he fights back a laugh. "thought so," he murmurs.

before leaning back in his chair, he adds, almost as an afterthought,

"we'll finish... this later." looking you over, your blushed skin, upper thigh exposed under the wood of the table, and the wrinkled fabric of your skirt still bunched up from when he shifted it to get to your aching pussy.

then, just like that, he's back to asking his dad about hockey, nodding along like he hadn't spent the last minute trying to make you lose your composure.

you, meanwhile, spend the rest of brunch wondering where he'll 'finish' this. in his car? in his childhood bedroom? in the empty kitchen when you're inevitably left alone for a second?

fuck. the thought alone has you crossing your legs and gulping down water.

oh my gosh thank you for checking on me! i've definitely been better than when i decided to take a break from writing and have been making progress with the drafts i have. i try not schedule when i write and be more spontaneous(?) with it so i could finally find some rhythm but i definitely think i could finish at least one within this month so i hope people would stick with me by then🥹