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ma1dita · 36 minutes ago

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instantly cleared any doubt i had. converted me so quick

KILLSHOT

sypnosis when fate gives you back your supposedly “dead” foster childhood bestfriend who is now the colonel of one of the most powerful fleets in the world, what else is there to do but fuck him right in the interrogation room?

warnings interrogation, caleb is mean for like 0.24848 seconds cause lbr he is a puppy of a man, drugging, drugged sex, improper use of evol, collaring, mutual pining, biting, marking, betrayal, mindfuck, injuries, mentions of blood, psychological warfare, seduction, fighting, hurt and comfort, angst, potential spoilers for “farspace deprivation” and “farspace bloomfall”, dark themes, hate sex, cervix fucking, fingers in mouth, sucking on gloved fingers, gunplay, degradation, undertones of Dom/sub, oral sex, kink, bratting, disciplining, after effects of interrogations, unprotected sex, ceiling sex, grieving, spoilers for chapter 4, mentions of death, aftercare, cuddling, guilt, repressed emotions, 18+

dawn says caleb girlies RISE UP oh we are eating so good our man is back home and you KNOW i had to write about his hot new glowup in that slutty colonel outfit,...

Yet again, you’re in the thick of trouble.

They said curiosity killed the cat, and this time, you had little doubt of coming out alive. But, it can hardly be classified as your fault.

It was a stupid lead. A blind coordinate Nero sent to you, leading you to stumble right into the heart of a military operation unauthorized. In the world of bureaucracy and red tape, it’s as good as being dead.

Now, you’re being led away, bound and blindfolded with no one to blame but yourself for your shitty luck and foresight.

Whoever is leading you to your certain death stops in his tracks, nudging you into a cool room. You’re made to sit on a hard chair, and within seconds, your wrists are untied only to be bound again to the chair’s arms and something hard and circular is snapped onto your neck.

“Unh—” you gasp when you hear the soft whir of the device starting. A sudden pressure wraps around your body, holding you back from resonating. Without your Evol, you’re defenceless and whoever has captured you knows it.

“Don’t resist.”

A cold voice pierces the silence. You stop squirming and peel your ears.

“W-who’s there?” You curse the stutter in your question, the trembling underlying your show of courage.

A Hunter resists and never gives up intel easily. Evasion Interrogation Class 101. You weren’t going to cave without a fight.

The slow approach of boots on the hard floor thumps like the blood rushing through your ears. You tense, feeling the other person’s presence before you.

Light floods your senses, and your eyes pry open when the blindfold is whipped off your face. You blink, trying to focus on the dark spot standing right in front of you. The furrow of his brow is the first thing you notice, then those piercing violet eyes.

No…

“Hey… Pipsqueak.”

Your blood turns to ice in your veins, fear shooting up your spine.

It can’t be… you struggle to make sense of what you’re seeing, feeling your stomach dropping heavily right into the soles of your Hunter boots. It can’t…

You mourned him. You watched your entire family—your world—go up in flames.

This stranger wearing his face sits down in front of you, legs spreading with ease under the stretch of his starched white pants. He’s in a decorated jacket, one you’ve never seen him wear before. It’s like the memory of all that you once knew of Caleb is corrupted with a dark veneer, giving way to this tainted version sitting before you with barely any emotion in his eyes.

The familiar slope of his features, the same ones you’ve seen throughout the years, changing and growing, as intimate to you as your own breath, is cold and distant.

Warm sunny days, the smell of freshly cut grass, a hand holding yours through the rain…

It disappears in a flash of lightning, the dark clouds rolling behind him like the dread churning right in your gut.

Your voice is soft, fringed with disbelief, as the shock renders you immobile to the chair.

“What?” He quips, and a shadow of his old smile appears. But, where there was once familiarity, now there only exists the ruins of everything you held dear.

“Don’t you recognize me?”

It’s as if he’s goading you.

He picks up an apple from the centerpiece on the table next to the chair he has you strapped in, and holds it in his hand like it would give him all the answers in the world. His pensive gaze, those once wondrous violet eyes catching the last of the sun’s rays as it disappeared over a river, cloud over with an undeniable oppression.

He can’t even look at you properly.

“Did you honestly think I would always be the kind-hearted boy from your childhood?”

Like a horror show unfolding, he lifts his gaze, looking right into your depths, as the snap of the apple's skin gives way to the tension of his jaws. A bit of its juice dribbles onto his lower lip, and you force yourself to tear your eyes away, needing to retain your wits. Caleb sets the fruit down, chewing thoughtfully, before lifting it to your lips.

“Eat,” he murmurs softly, a shadow of his old self on the tired terrain of his face. “You must be starving.”

The sweet boy from your past can’t be coincided with this cold man right in front of you. Where you would’ve leapt at the opportunity to taste any dish from the labor of his kind hands, you fear this forbidden bite would poison you the second his tainted fruit touched your lips.

Turning your head away, you glare at the rain-slicked windows, trying to hide the sting in your eyes.

Caleb, knowing how stubborn you can be, sighs and drops his olive branch offering.

“Fine.” His voice is flat. Unemotional. “Let’s get to the bottom of things, then.”

He stands, and you feel a fissure of fear opening in your chest when he retrieves his baton, removing his military cap and tossing it onto the table.

“Why’re you here?”

You refuse to open your mouth, glaring at him. Caleb shakes his head.

“You always have to make things so hard for me, don’t you, Pipsqueak?” He murmurs and steps closer to you, the fire in his violet gaze crackling. “You’ve always been insufferable since we were kids. Now—” he frowns. “—why are you here? And how did you find this place?”

You find your voice, croaking out, “I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to? Are you sure?” He cuts you off coldly. Caleb straightens and adjusts his gloves. There’s a hint of a smile on his face, though it’s corrupted by the detachment oozing from his suddenly frosty demeanour. “You expect me to believe that? That you just stumbled into the scene like a stray kitten?”

When you don’t speak, he sighs, kneeling down to your height. The warmth of his eyes is back and a lump forms in your throat.

“Caleb…” your whisper is soft. Tentative. He senses a chink in your defenses, a drop of blood in the ocean, and the gleam of his teeth reminds you of a shark.

“All you have to do is answer my questions, Pipsqueak,” he murmurs, lifting a hand to stroke your hair. “Can you do that for me? Can you be a good girl?” That same, mischievous smile plays on the corners of his lips, though it sends a chill down your spine, instead. “There’s more than one pair of eyes observing you in this room so I suggest you play nice.”

He pulls back again, depriving you of his warmth. “Now that you understand, we can have a friendly chat, hmm, Pips?” When you refuse to look at him, or give any indication you’re willing to cooperate, he sighs.

Instantly, the sensation of a thousand bricks falling onto your shoulders hits you, and you scream, almost crushed by the pressure. Caleb uses this momentary distraction to kneel down and lock your ankles to the chair’s legs and snap a band around your right wrist, his other hand gently running the ghost of his touch up your ankle. The forcefield of his Evol deters him from ever touching your skin, and if you could look closer, you would’ve seen his throat bobbing from a harsh swallow.

“Do you remember that injured cat you brought back home? Back when we were kids?” He glares up at you. “I got a collar with a bell. That way, it couldn't escape without being noisy,” he gently squeezes your knee. “The same can be said for you—you’re not allowed to leave me again.”

As he speaks, something sharp pokes your neck and you flinch. While your eyes are on him, the room starts to spin, and before you know it, you’re hunched over the chair, gasping and shaking.

“Caleb,” your voice sounds like you’re whispering from under the sea. “W-what’s—?”

“Don’t worry,” his reassurances warble back. “It won’t harm you—images in your brain,” his words flicker through your consciousness and you feel the collar tightening around your throat.

Shit… He had sanctioned a drug to be shot into your system.

Your woozy eyes keep on sliding back to the floor.

Caleb has drugged me.

“Where did you find the coordinates to this place?”

You’re fighting a losing battle trying to keep your composure. Everything feels too loud—too bright. Digging your nails into the chair’s arms, you grit your teeth, fighting back against the wave of vertigo threatening to take you under. You feel like you’re on a rollercoaster, out of breath, the ground dangling far from your feet. Every sharp inhale you take makes you float higher and higher, till you think your brain would burst from the stratosphere of your skull.

Nero… Nero knew this… and he let you walk right into it.

Nero… The sound of Caleb’s voice pierces through your mind like bright light cutting past the fog. That’s good, Pipsqueak. That’s my good girl… Is Nero your colleague?

You think of him, in his horn-rimmed glasses, hunched over his screen.

Good, Caleb’s voice soothes you, a lifeline through this impenetrable fog your mind has settled in. And, why are you here?

The image of his dog tag with the apple charm takes over your mind, and it hits you too late that Caleb can possibly see your thoughts unfold.

What are the possibilities that you can fight this? Your brain races. You feel like an astronaut stranded in space, isolated from gravity and light, as your spacesuit begins to fill up with water, almost drowning you.

A sharp jab to your chest makes your eyes flutter open, and his baton is pointed right at the apple charm hanging around your neck. Something softer, presumably made out of hide, brushes your chin as he studies the charm in between his fingers, his expression unreadable.

“It’ll all be over soon,” he whispers, the switch flipping, “As long as you keep on cooperating.”

You lean into his reassurances, a whimper slipping past your gritted teeth.

“I know, I know,” he soothes, and stands before you, his hands clenched into fists. “But, it’s for your own good. Just a little longer, Pips.”

He asks his final question: “Were you trailed?”

You can’t stop the next thought from forming in your head of your Hunter’s watch. Instantly, the band is ripped from your wrist, and you hear a loud crunch. The air thickens and you close your eyes, trying to find your centre. The world threatens to spin off your axis; G-Force pressure right in your center threatens to tear you apart.

Please… make it stop…

Like a switch has been flipped, the spinning cyclone in your mind stops. The sound of your harsh breathing and the erratic pulse in your ears is the only thing you can hear. Someone kneels right in front of you, and you don’t have the strength to push him away, not when he’s this close.

“Congratulations,” he says softly, stretching his hand like he wants to pat your head, but retracts it at the last minute. “You passed.”

The collar slips off your neck, and you hear it being tossed onto the table. “Come here,” he whispers and unbinds you. Caleb lifts you into his arms, though not even his warmth can comfort you.

Through the fog whirling in your mind, you make a snap decision.

Your hand collides into his cheek, the loud slap ricocheting around the room. He grunts, taken aback, and you use the momentum to swing your legs, wrapping your thighs around his neck so he’s forced to let go of you. Using every iota of balance you can muster, you land on your feet, none too gracefully. His hand wraps around your arm and practically hiss, sinking your teeth into his flesh.

Caleb gasps, and whips his hand back, glaring down at you.

“Hey! It’s me—”

But, you’re not listening. You’re ready to pounce when he grabs your wrist, drawing you closer to him, pressing your cheek to his chest so you can hear the harsh rise and fall of his breathing.

“Pips, it’s me,” he tries earnestly again. “It’s me. I’m back.”

To your horror, you start to cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

You sob and blubber like a child, growing weak in his arms as the hand in his grasp turns into a fist and you smack it weakly against his hard chest.

“How could you?” is the first thing you ask through your sobs. And, the next: “How’re you even alive?”

Caleb looks away, like he might reveal too much if he stares into your eyes. “It’s complicated—”

“Bullshit,” your anger resounds in the room like the crack of a whip. You should’ve bit him harder.

You think you see him flinch. You push away from his arms and he looks down at you, every crevice of his face dripping with desolation. There’s a glimmer of wetness in his eyes, and yet, you can’t trust it.

You can’t trust him.

“Pipsqueak,” he tries again, reminding you of the times when you were both younger, and he had to sweet-talk you out of a bad mood. “I know you must think some chip got put into my brain, or I’m no longer who I used to be. But, I’m still me,” he urges, and lifts your chin to meet his eyes. “I’m still Caleb. I never left.”

You grit your teeth and with a strength neither of you expect you to have, you push him against the table, pressing yourself in between his legs. Caleb grunts, but doesn’t shove you aside. He looks up at you, with those same pitiful, defiant violet eyes that urges you to either kiss him senseless or claw his eyeballs out.

… Wait.

Kiss him senseless?

You shake your head, pushing those thoughts aside. As if he can’t control himself anymore, he runs his knuckles down the back of your thighs, the new (downright useless) mandated Hunters uniform showing off too much bare skin. But, you couldn’t care less about that right now.

Right now, you have a score to settle with your oldest childhood friend.

“You’re still the same, huh?” Your hand presses to his chest, feeling the erratic pulse of his heartbeat under your palm. Even through all the layers he wears, you can still feel the heat of his body seeping past your skin. “You’re still the same Caleb I knew—the same one who walked through that damn door—” you growl, curling your hand into a fist and hitting it right into his sternum, “—and blew up on me?!”

“Pipsqueak—”

“Don’t you dare,” you seethe, baring your teeth. Though the tears continue to fall, your mind is honed in. Focused.

The need to obliterate him, to make him feel a shred of the same pain he had put you through for months, rears its ugly head.

Like he can read your mind—and you honestly think he can—he caresses your face, running his thumb over your jaw. The look on his face is pure regret, mingled with something unfathomable. You scent it in the lingering heat of his breath on your parted lips, or how much closer his face has gotten to yours.

Right here, he’s in the palm of your hands… And yet, why is he still so painfully out of reach?

“I don’t trust you,” the words slip past your numb lips before you can take them back. You grip his face, steadying those violet eyes on your furious ones. “I need to test you… to put you through a trial.”

The look of indignation on his face is delicious, and it whets your appetite for vindication.

“A trial?” He almost sounds insulted. “What have I done wrong?”

Your other hand slowly reaches for the front of his chest, running the tip of your finger down the starch lapels of his jacket. “You were missing. For months,” you grit out the words. “I need to check if you’re still him.”

“Still… me?”

You growl and tighten your grip on his chin.

“What is my favorite food?”

Caleb huffs, as if you had just asked him what color the sky was. “Braised chicken wings,” he murmurs almost sarcastically. “Next.”

You glance at the bite mark on his hand. “What is my favorite way of getting you back?”

He raises a brow. “Biting. I remember how when we were kids, you bit me so hard, the mark took 15 days to disappear.”

You swallow. He’s correct again.

Reluctantly, you loosen your grip on his chin. The position you’re both in hits you—his arm around your waist, his free hand still stroking the back of your thigh. Your one hand tangled in his jacket and the other still on his chin.

Heat floods your cheeks, and you recall him saying that there were more than one pair of eyes watching in this room. But, a part of you—the one who’s been deprived of Caleb for far too long, who had to contend with days of loneliness and missing him, couldn’t care less.

“Pipsqueak,” he murmurs, and his hand moves from your leg to your hair, gently nudging you deeper into the circle of his arms. The smell of him floods your nostrils with nostalgia and a hint of pine, the old Caleb you grew up with solidifying further and further under your touch.

“Caleb…”

Faster than two atoms on the path to collision, his lips are on yours.

Caleb kisses you like you’re the only source of oxygen left in his world. Something crashes onto the floor, and the plate of apples rolls onto the carpet, an orchard of sin scattered in between your legs pressed together. The sweet, tart flavor of the fruit he had just eaten saturates your tastebuds, and you moan when he desperately tangles his tongue with yours.

He lifts you into his arms bridal style, and carries you down a narrow hallway you had never noticed before, the flashing thunder illuminating the gaudy paintings hung on the wall.

He takes you to what looks like a medical room, though no one is in there. Your lips press to his neck, kissing and sucking on his pulse point. He hisses and in a low tone, warns, “Keep that up and you might regret it, Pipsqueak.”

Gently, like you’re precious cargo, he sets you down onto the bed, those violet eyes like a newfound nebula fixed onto you, filled with the brightest stars in the galaxy.

Caleb runs his hand up your thigh, and you flicker your gaze to his gun holster.

In the split second when he’s distracted, you lunge right for it, grabbing the handle.

He yelps, taken aback, but is faster, snapping his hand around your wrists to impede your movements. The gun drops from your grasp like dead weight, along with your hopes of ever escaping. If looks could kill, you would be dead meat from the intensity of his glare.

Caleb exhales, fixing his frigid gaze onto yours.

“Oh,” he chuckles, and you shiver at the dark edge in his tone. “You will pay for that.”

Gravity surrounds you like a weighted blanket, except it pins you to the bed rather than offering any comfort. Your whimper is lost behind the gloved hand that muffles your cries, hissing into your ear to, “Stay still, goddamnit.”

Caleb is breathing hard, a drop of sweat rolling from his temple down his throat. You feel it dripping onto your neck, your wild eyes fix on him.

When he’s sure you won't retaliate again, he stands up from the bed, bearing down on you. Picking up the gun from the floor, he trails it right to your temple. His Evol hasn’t muffled your speech, but you don’t want to say a word to him, preferring to glare.

“I asked you a simple question—”

“And, you know I can’t answer that,” he retaliates, recognizing what you’re trying to do. His brow furrows. “There are things I can’t tell you, Pips. Things you don’t even understand—”

“Then, help me understand!” You’re yelling now, close to tears. “Help me understand why you left… why you left me…” your voice breaks on the last word, and a look of regret shadows his face.

“I never wanted to.” The gun slides from your temple right to your jaw, but you’re not afraid of it. Nothing in the world can keep you from knowing the truth; from uncovering every layer in Caleb’s new facade.

(But, maybe, this dark side of him has always been there, and you were just too blind not to notice).

He takes a shaky breath. “If I had the choice to do it over again, I would’ve never—ever—left you.”

Sincerity bleeds past the shades of night falling outside the window. Silence envelopes the two of you, and the realization dawns when he exhales your name.

“Pipsqueak…”

“Don’t call me that.”

You’re not his Pipsqueak anymore, the same way he is inexplicably not your Caleb anymore.

He gets back down to his knees, right in front of you. The look on his face is nothing short of misery, heavy with a thousand implications he could never divulge.

You’re desperate, hungry for more. To know more, to feel more. To embrace the darkness brewing in you like the undeniable heat that’s simmering between your two bodies.

“Do you hate it?” He asks softly, in a voice frayed with a thousand emotions, and you sense he’s not referring to your old nickname. Do you hate me?

The silent question hangs heavy in the air, and without a second thought, you turn your face and press your lips to the barrel of his gun.

You can point a weapon at me, but you will never shoot, your kisses on the cold metal speak where words fail you. The gun trembles in his grasp, and between your body pinned to the bed from his Evol and a military-grade weapon pointed at you, what you’re doing is completely ballsy. And, insane.

“I know you have secrets,” you murmur as the cold metal tip travels to the nape of your neck. Despite himself and his rigorous self-control, Caleb is still a man.

Still flesh and bone. Love and grief.

“But, we’re a team, remember? You and me. Me and you. We work together, Caleb. Not against each other.”

Your blurry mind tries hard to focus on the task at hand—needing to throw him off guard—but you can’t deny how the heat in his hooded eyes is making you feel.

He inhales sharply at your words, though the rest of his expression remains unreadable. “I told you, what I know is top secret and even you’re not allowed to know it.”

Those violet eyes trail down your susceptible body spread wide open for him on the bed, and you notice a flicker of hunger behind his dark gaze.

You’ve always loved Caleb’s attention: whether he’s complimenting you on scoring a goal, or commending your plane model assembly skills.

Everything you did was, to a degree, for him to see you. To finally accept you wholeheartedly and without restraint.

You were his little tail; the Pipsqueak who followed him around like his shadow.

And even now, when he has a gun right at your throat, all you can think about is how much you want to please him.

Tilting your head back, you moan when the barrel slides down the valley of your breasts. His breathing is growing heavier; the look in his lilac eyes is stormy and dark.

“You… like this?”

He sounds hoarse. In disbelief.

You nod. “I…” you lick your lips. “I love it.”

The cool metal grazes your jaw, and when it taps on your lips, you don’t hesitate to part them. Glancing into those molten, violet eyes, you suck on the hollow tip, aware of his finger on the trigger and the look of undefiled lust on his face.

“God,” he mumbles, hungrily eyeing how deep the barrel is down your throat. “You’re such a good, good little girl…”

He prises the gun from between your teeth, and the strands of saliva connecting your swollen lips to the spit-soaked metal shimmers in the low light.

Caleb tosses the gun onto the table, growling as he crawls on top of you.

The effect of his Evol fades, allowing you to move your feet, but his hands on your knees make sure you can’t pull off anything funny.

“You’re gonna lay back, and you’re going to be good,” he lifts your leg and kisses over your knee. It would be so easy to drive the hard cartilage right into his nose… but, you don’t want his hands to leave your skin. You want to see what he will do next.

The off-duty Hunter uniform you’re wearing rides up your thighs, exposing the plush fat of your thighs. His gloves rasping on your skin drives a shiver up your spine.

It’s like he refuses to engage in skin-to-skin, whether as punishment or a caution.

You whine softly when his bigger body bears down on yours.

“Caleb…”

He grasps your chin, none too gentle as he pulls you closer to him. “Look at you,” he growls, pushing himself closer—the heat of his body melting with yours. “Look at what you do to me.”

It’s hard to even breathe when he’s close enough to devour your face.

His breath grazes your cheek, and you close your eyes. Your oldest childhood friend savors the proximity, taking in a whiff of your clean perfume.

Before your mind can play catchup, your body falls right into the orbit of his desire; lips on his, breaths mingling as one.

“Fuck,” Caleb breathes, a moan pulled from the depths of his chest, tortured and strangled. “You taste so—nhng—”

He gasps when your arms come to loop around his shoulders, dragging him almost between your legs. He steadies himself, gloved palms on the bed. You run your hands over the starch grooves of his jacket, finding the first button.

Caleb lets your touch wander aimlessly, his breath caught in the back of his throat.

“Are you sure?” He whispers, those anguished violet eyes almost gouging into yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless. “Are you sure you want this?”

Are you sure you want me?

As a silent answer, you lean forward, catching his lower lip in between your teeth.

“Ngnhmhm,” he moans, gasping when you bite down hard.

He tastes blood and your desperation, helping you unbutton his coat. The heavy chain slaps against your eager cheek in his rush to slide it off his arms. “Shit—sorry.” Cool fingers brush the afflicted cheek. “You alright, sweetness?”

You nod, huffing and moving your hands to his other lighter jacket, unbuttoning it. He chuckles at your eagerness and helps you with the brass buttons. As the layer disappears, you’re confronted with another shirt.

“How many clothes are you wearing?!” Your cry brings a mischievous grin tugging on the corners of his lips.

“Lots,” he murmurs and takes over with a nimble skill only a man of his caliber can have. The grey shirt melts off his broad shoulders, discarded onto the floor, and finally—fucking finally—he removes the black turtleneck, revealing smooth acres of warmed, tan skin right under your touch.

You exhale shakily, running your fingers down his distinct pectorals, tugging on the dog tag around his neck. Your eyes land on the familiar apple charm.

“How—?”

He thumbs the similar charm hanging from around your neck. For the first time this evening, he voluntarily gives up some information.

“I—uh—had someone copy my old necklace.”

The look of disbelief on your face is enough to deter his next words.

“You decoyed the necklace I gifted you?”

Caleb winces. “C’mon, Pip—I-I mean, love…” he sighs and presses his palm to the back of your head, drawing you closer to peck your pouty lips. “It helped me make sure you were safe. Plus,” he adds, a touch of humor in his tone. “You did tell me you would kick my ass if I ever took it off.”

You struggle to understand the layers behind his words, fighting to form a reply when his lips travel to the juncture of your neck, softly kissing and sucking your sensitive flesh.

Focused on retrieving the truth, you fight hard against his best efforts at derailing you. “You—mhm—were tracking me? All this time?”

Caleb doesn’t pause his sensual assault, groaning softly. “Won’t call it tracking per say…”

You want to get mad. Truly, you do. But, the feeling of his teeth grazing your pulse point melts any coherent thoughts left in your brain.

The confusion you felt before gives way to something deeper. Unrestrained. He kisses you again, and you absorb the feeling of warm skin under your palms, feeling the heat of his body thrumming under your touch. His muscles expand and contract with every shaky breath, his chest pressed so intimately to yours.

You squirm, and he hisses, restraining your hips to the bed.

“Stop that,” he hisses.

Confusion overtakes you, and you want to ask what’s wrong when he winces and shifts his hips further from yours, instinctively setting a physical boundary you want gone immediately.

“Are you scared?” It’s your turn to goad him. If he thinks you’re going to be nothing but docile and wanting, he’s been away for far too long.

His lips twitch. “Of you? Nah. But, of what I can do?” His voice drops an octave, and he leans in, one gloved hand going to your chin, holding it in place. “If anyone should be scared, it’s you.”

Caleb tests the waters of this new dynamic unfolding between you two, dipping his fingers past the gap of your lips. The breach should make you pull away, take a step back to reassess the situation.

But, you’re as much under his spell as you have bewitched him.

The taste of earthy hardness fills your mouth, and you suck on his thumb obediently.

Caleb looks down at you, the heat in his eyes almost touching the boiling point. A few more moments of your teasing, and he would be close to bursting and taking you right on this bed.

Never one to be satisfied with what he is allowed to take, Caleb pushes his luck further, sinking his thumb deeper down the soft gullet of your throat; compressing your gurgled words down to the bottom of your mouth in his journey to devour everything you can give him.

“Oh, fuck.” He groans when you take another finger into your mouth like you were meant for him. “That’s a good girl… my good little girl…”

You moan around his digits stuffed down your throat, peeling your watery eyes to his smirking expression.

“Cat got your tongue, Pipsqueak?” He murmurs, and stretches your jaw with a third finger. You’re so full of the taste of him, you start to choke. “You look so pretty like this—not a thought in your brain, just relying on me to make you full… to make you whole.”

His words send a shiver down your spine. You want to protest, but deep down, it’s true.

The grief that clashes with his year-long absence, this “new” side to him you are starting to unravel… the old Calen, the one you loved and looked up to, is starting to metamorphosize right before your eyes.

“Cwaleb—” you whimper past his fingers.

He’s barely laid a hand on you and you’re already folding.

Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, he discreetly wipes off your spit on the bed sheets, fixing you with an arched brow.

As if asking: Well… your move, Pipsqueak.

Your hands fly to the buckle of his military pants, the sound of his zipper dragging down punctuating the air like a crass remark.

Caleb stiffens when he feels your cool finger dipping past the waistband and he shudders, mind going hazy at a touch he had only dreamed off but never thought would come true. When you reveal him to the cool air, he’s half-flaccid, already at a six inch mast and the prettiest shade of pink you have ever seen with an undertone of mauve.

He’s part of the thicker team, though length-wise, it would make any woman scream and cream. Heavy balls. A slight curve. Growing up pumped full of hormones, you had secretly wondered how your oldest childhood friend’s cock would look like, but you never once anticipated seeing it in real time.

“Holy…” you trail off, and he grins.

“Like what you see?”

You’re spread out for him on the threadbare sheets like a vision from a forbidden oasis. As much as he wants to bury himself in you, Caleb needs to make sure you’re ready first. He licks his lips, whets his appetite, and fills up your empty mouth with his tongue.

“Mhm…” you groan into the depths of his mouth. “Caleb…” You swallow, and deciding to throw him off, you murmur a word he thought would never, ever come out from your mouth:

“Sir,” you whimper. “ Kiss me harder…”

Sparks go off in his mind. He feels like the force of the explosion has finally caught up with him a year later and his breath is knocked out from his lungs.

“What did you say?”

His deep violet eyes devour the look of wanton desire on your face, mind drawing a blank.

Did you just…?

Did he hear it right?

“Again,” he almost stutters, desperately needing to hear that word from your lips. “Say that word again.”

The restraint in your mind is at best a flimsy net letting your inhibitions fly freely. “Sir,” the word drips from your lips like the sultriest confession; the look on his face like that of a holy man scandalized. Except Caleb wasn’t holy—he was hardly a saint. He was the scum of the earth trying to lay his corrupted hands on a being far too precious for him.

Immolating from his own self-hatred, it’s hard for him to fathom that you want this—that you want him.

“Please,” your whisper cuts through the tension of the self-inflicted torment settling onto pensive demeanor. “Please… make love to me, Sir.”

All his years of restraint—of immaculate self-control—snaps like the last leaf off an autumn branch. He rains dizzying kisses down onto the jut of your collarbone, summer rain sweeter than sin on your tongue.

Caleb removes his pants, kicking the heavy material down to the floor as he works his boots off frantically with the toes of each alternating foot.

The feel of his body on yours, almost smothering you to the mattress, drives you wild with a heat stoking right in the heart of your core.

“Sir,” you murmur, almost dizzy with lust.

He pops open the buttons of your dress, slipping it down your shoulders. The swathes of your bare skin presented for him makes him feel like he’s barely lucid, lost in a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from. With one hand, he expertly unhooks your bra and slides it down your body, tossing it onto the floor where it joins his pants.

Caleb is barely restrained when he pushes you back onto the bed, his lips finding refuge in the juncture of your neck and shoulders. He nips, licks and sucks like his life depends on marking you; the sight of his marks on your skin only serves to make his feral need rise higher and higher.

He takes refuge right at your chest, nibbling and nipping the plush fat of your breasts till you’re practically vibrating with excitement, your nipples wet with his spit and aching for more of his touch.

The dark haired man can barely stop himself from what he does next—sliding your dress further down your body till the rise of your lace panties appears in his sights like the sun breaking over the horizon.

He feels the warmth of you on his face, right in his cheeks as your thighs tighten around his head.

“Oh, love,” he groans, like a man starving. “C’mere, Princess—”

He pulls you closer till your pelvis bumps his chin and you squeak, feeling his hot breath graze your bare skin.

“Caleb—”

Your protests die an immature death when he buries his tongue right into your tight cunt. He moans at your taste, the lightning playing with shadows all over your body, illuminating the pulsing beats of darkness hiding behind those violet eyes. His pupils almost swallow those lilac orbs whole, their darkened gaze latched right onto you.

“God,” he mumbles like a man tasting manna for the first time. “... s’sweet… this pussy is so sweet…”

The charming, charismatic and kind Caleb from before would’ve never dared utter such words in front of you. But, his other twin in bed, the one who wears his face complete with a devilish smirk, rolls his tongue over your syrupy folds, moaning at your flavor.

You taste like candied apples, and Caleb thinks he could eat you up whole.

He squeezes more moans past your sweet lips when he draws all your folds into his mouth, spitting it back out only to do it again and again and again.

“You’re so wet,” he slurs, those pretty purple eyes already pussy-drunk. “So fucking wet f’me.”

Your legs spread, wrapping around his shoulders, the taste of your cunt almost coating the back of his throat—Caleb couldn’t be more in love with you.

“Mhm,” he moans, a sight in between your legs, chin slick with your juices, eyes half-closed in pure ecstasy.

“You’re so full for me… dripping down everywhere,” he murmurs, placing a quick kiss onto your twitchy clit. “I could drink you for days.”

Your cries and moans only fuel him to be meaner. Now that he has you in the palm of his hand, he’s not planning to let go of you anytime.

It’s filthy, animalistic, and utterly raw. The emotions he evokes in you quakes through your soul, seeping out of your core only to be consumed by him, your lust growing his lust, his moans inciting your yearning.

Caleb continues his gentle assault on your clit with his tongue, grinning against your cunt.

“Louder… let them hear you.” He slips one leather-clad finger inside your pussy, pressing down on the spongy, soft spot. Those pretty lips wrap around your clit, giving it a gentle suck and you fold.

You keen, tangling your fingers in his hair. It’s one thing to be eaten out this thoroughly, but another to be subjected to such pleasurable torture by a man who has hungered for you for years.

“Good girl,” the bridge of his nose almost rubs your clit raw when he buries his tongue even deeper inside you. “Louder,” he moans past flesh and more pussy juice gushing onto his chin. “Make it messy, baby.”

Caleb… Caleb… your breaths come out in huge gasps, your back arching off the bed.

He makes unravelling you look so easy, and you’d be absolutely pissed off if he wasn’t edging you towards the biggest orgasm of your life.

While you’re in the throes of your pleasure, you feel his gloved hand wrap around your throat, thumb pushing past your flush lips.

“Mhm—” you moan at the flavor of him saturating your tongue. “Oh… Caleb—”

“Yeah,” he growls, chest rumbling. “Say my name, baby. Say it. Scream it.”

“Caleb,” your moans double in volume, the pleasure about to burst from your seams. “Oh, Caleb—!”

Heat, wetness, a deep, stirring pleasure threatening to consume you, and then—

Nothing.

Caleb pulls away, squeezing your thighs. He rips off the gloves, and finally—finally—you feel his skin on yours.

The rasp of his warmth across your thighs drives goosebumps down your arms. “Shit,” you whimper when he pushes your thighs further apart to settle in between them. His body smothers yours, encompassing you in the pure mass that is his weight bearing fully down onto your exposed body.

Bastard. He leaves you hanging, reeling from a ruined orgasm, as you glare at him, your anger and indignation sputtering and dying on your tongue.

“Caleb! You—you—”

He grins, dark and sweaty bangs falling all over face as he drags you closer by the hips.

“Open wide, pretty,” Caleb coaxes, thumbing the head of his pretty cock, smearing precum all over his digit.

Fuck—ah… you groan sinfully. The sight of him pleasuring himself is seared in your brain. You bite your lower lip, shifting your hips. Need drips from your gasping breaths and your head is spinning.

Easy, he murmurs. I gotcha.

Caleb lifts your hips in his large hands, finding the perfect angle before slipping the sticky head between your folds. Your gasp grazes his ears in a warm puff, a telltale sign of your unexpected surprise at how good this feels.

It reminds you of those times when he would tease you as kids—always holding something out of reach and never giving in unless you begged nicely.

And, you sense it’s what he’s doing right now. Mercilessly teasing, testing your patience. Waiting for you to beg.

Caleb grasps the base of his hefty cock and runs it over the mess of your creases, soaked with your excitement for him. He teasingly pushes the plump head past the slutty ring of muscle gaping open for him, and heaves in a deep groan, like that of a beast about to breed his mate. Your eyes are crossed with pleasure, and you’re whimpering sweetly, no thoughts forming in your brain besides more, more, more.

You ache for him, but all you can do is take his teasing. “Please,” you huff, peeling your docile, little lamb eyes onto him, wishing he would relent and just fuck you.

The sheets twist in your fist and your other hand is tangled in his sweat-soaked hair.

Caleb uses one hand to brush his damp bangs off his face, and he grins, intent on making you pliable to his every whim. He presses a kiss to your jugular, biting down on it, relishing in your jolt of pleasure.

You’re so sensitive, even his pelvis grinding down on your clit feels good and you shift your hips higher, desperate for more friction—for more of him.

“Sir,” you sputter, woozy. “Please… please…”

Caleb hums, lifts your thighs over his broad, muscular shoulders. The slight tilt spreads you out for him, a wildflower blooming under his touch. You’ve captivated him with your scent, your skin, your sweet sounds…

But, little does he know, you’re equally enraptured; caught in his trap.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs hoarsely. “Pretty when you beg. Pretty when you look at me like you can’t wait a second longer…”

His wet lips swell around your pulse point again, flowering heated kisses onto your sensitive skin.

“Nghh—Caleb,” you whimper and he chuckles—that bastard.

“You ready, sweets?” He teases you, shooting you a smug, stupid smile much to your consternation.

You want to roll your eyes and be crass, asking him to just give up and put it in, but your words get stuck right in your throat when you realize you're already on the verge of losing it altogether.

You take one good look at him, and wet your lips, yielding with a nod.

“Yes, Sir.”

Your obedience is like a hit of ecstasy for him, firing up his veins, and he moans, shifting closer to you. The bulbous tip jostles deep inside you as another inch is added and you writhe, eyes squeezed close in delirium. “Mhnmph!”

Your moans shoot through his veins like licks of a strong, disorientating drug and Caleb groans. His hefty body is already shaking from the strain, and he doesn’t know how long he can last. His thighs shudder, and he has to bite on his lower lip to keep from moaning like a goddamn loser when he finally sinks his dick all the way into the love of his life.

“Mhm—ah!” Your nails dig into his shoulders and he hisses.

He gives you a split second to get used to the sensation, nothing more, nothing less. Obviously, he’s waited for you for his entire life. Etiquette and consideration can come later—all he wants to do right now is fuck the ever loving shit out of you. Caleb sets a pace, one that has you twitching, and he seethes at your lack of resistance.

“You’re—hnng, already so eager,” he snarls. “Been dreaming about this? About my cock?”

The sight of your decoyed necklace slapping against your skin from every thrust drives him dizzy with lust. His name on the dog tag, the apple charm looking so innocent and snug right in the valley of your luscious tits. It doesn’t take much to please a man like him and Caleb is as happy as a dog who got the best bone.

He gnaws on your shoulder, teeth making indents on your precious skin.

Your thighs tighten around his shoulders, body almost folded in half like a pancake.

Caleb… Caleb… you whisper-gasp, the darkness of the room and the subsiding storm outside the windows lending to the dark yet intense atmosphere.

He licks along your bottom lip, sucking on your tongue. You taste so good, Princess…

Your whimpers brush his chin and his hair tickles your sternum as he ducks his head lower, bringing your stiff peaks into his mouth. He nurses and suckles on you, a fiendish look in his eyes.

“Mhmph—you taste like sin,” he groans deeply, the sound travelling all the way down to your core. The forbidden fruit, right here in his arms and like a selfish man, he wants more.

Without warning, gravity disengages around your body and you’re pinned to the ceiling in the blink of an eye.

It feels surreal to look over his shoulder, at the bed hovering above your head, the medicine cabinet and lamp all peering up at you like a twisted version of wonderland.

“Caleb—!”

He silences your protests with a harsh kiss, licking and sucking on your lower lip till you whimper and quiver. Deftly, he guides your hips away from him and lets gravity do the rest. You sink down—full and to the hilt. He’s so deep in you, you swear you can taste him all the way in the back of your throat.

Caleb fucks you this way—mean, demanding—using gravity and his Evol to his advantage.

You writhe and twist in his grasp, head thrown back. The ceiling wall is cold against your back, though he’s warm enough to the touch to make your head spin.

Bodies press intricately, you can’t tell where he begins and where you end. Like two snakes interlocking, you feel Caleb everywhere. His breath on your neck, his hands roaming down your body possessively, the feel of his thick girth hitting every spot just right.

Drool drips down your chin, and you feel him chuckle; the rough rasp of his tongue lapping it up.

Messy girl, he drawls, smacking his lips. A smug grin tugs on his mouth, giving his boyishly handsome face a devilish touch.

Give me more, he urges. More. Make it messy, Princess.

He sucks on your pulse point, your neck the perfect canvas for his marks. Nuzzling you close, you feel the tenderness behind his searing need.

His cock molds into you like a perfect fit. The sound of his hefty balls slapping wetly against your skin fills the room with a salacious symphony.

Caleb, Caleb, Caleb. You can’t control the stream of moans escaping your puffy lips. He kisses you hard again, deepening it and letting his tongue tangle with yours in a passionate dance. Your heart swells with adoration for him; his flavor heavy on your tongue, sousing through your senses like a creeping heat reaching towards its completion.

His touch kindles up more desire as if you’re dry straw waiting to catch fire, and oh—does he let you burn.

Strings of your pussy juice drip past his balls, streaking his thighs like filthy snail trails. The shine of your own arousal dribbles past the pert curve of his fit ass, and ribbons into droplets falling from the ceiling like it’s goopy rain.

Caleb doesn’t care about the mess you’re making. All he wants is to see you unravel.

Your cheeks flushed, eyes crossed—he leans in to kiss you hard, needing to taste your desperation firsthand.

Your hot moans give everything up to him, your body quaking like a tempest ready to unleash hell onto his self-control.

He grunts when you fist his hair, finding your rhythm as you fuck him back, meeting him in the middle. The sway of your hips tells him all he needs to know—his little mei mei isn’t as innocent as he thinks she is.

“—taught you how to fuck like that?” He grunts, lapping at a bead of sweat about to freefall from your chin.

“Huh?” You peel your watery eyes on his, his sticky kiss gracing your cheek.

“Said—who taught my sweet, innocent, little Pipsqueak to fuck like this?”

He punctuates his emphasis with two harsh thrusts, his length jabbing your cervix.

You grunt, eyes rolling back into your head. “N-no one—fuck,” you whine when he slips one big hand between your bodies, rolling his thumb over your lubricious clit.

“A-ah!” your cries rebound across the room as he plays with your fleshy pearl, thumbing circles onto it vigorously, hoping to glean your confession. “Ngh—Caleb!”

Your thighs begin to shake, and his grin turns wolfish. “Won’t let you come ‘less you tell me the truth, Pipsqueak. M’waiting.”

He stamps a possessively hard kiss onto the nape of your neck, like he’s trying to drive the mark of his mouth past your skin.

“I’m telling the truth,” you whimper. “Never had no one—no one but you.”

A deep, guttural groan brushes the soft shell of your ear.

“Swear?” he demands.

“Uh-huh,” you hiccup, all dulcet and demure with the position he has you in. Your lachrymose eyes are fixated on him and only him—Caleb thinks his body might burst from all the blood swelling in his cock and heart.

He huns, and runs his tongue down your clavicle. “Good girl… good little Pips.”

The nickname combined with his derogatory tone inadvertently makes you clench around him tighter, and he hisses.

“You’ll be the death of me, y’know?” His eyes darken and he drives his hips harder as if trying to make a point. “Gonna make sure you never leave my side—we’ll always be together. Forever.”

You whine and dig your nails into his biceps.

“Caleb—” you gasp, almost falling out of his grasp and face down onto a bed 10 feet below you. But, he tightens his grip, and you know he would never let you go.

He shuffles you deeper into the alcove of his body, and you tighten your hold around his neck. “You—mhm—are insane.”

“Yeah?” He grins. “Only for you, Pips.”

Tingles running down your spine, and you feel hot and cold at the same time. He fixes his sights on your glassy gaze, enjoying how wrecked you look under him.

(Well, technically, above him with the power of his Evol, but eh, semantics).

The storm outside is no match for the one raging inside of you, and you cling onto him like a second skin, drunk off the pleasure he’s inducing in you. Kissing his jaw, nipping his lower lip. Caleb grunts when you press your chest to him, the feeling of your pert nipples rubbing against his toned pecs making him feel like this is all a dream—one he doesn’t want to wake up from.

Too soon, his vision to see you come undone flashes as you toss your head back and moan his name.

“Caleb…”

Your whimper is a signal of your impending release, and he grits his teeth, driving his hips further into you, planting his knees on the water-stained ceiling and going ham on your pliant body.

He feels you shuddering around him, dipping his head to feast on the sweat slicking your tits.

He glances up at you, catching your eye the second your release tears through you, his smirk making your heart skip a few beats.

Caleb feels the heat stirring in his own belly. You’re down for the count, holding onto him like a washed up doll whose lax mouth occasionally lets out a few moans and whimpers.

So pliant… so malleable… so easily molded to his whims…

Breaking you clean, he wants to dominate every inch of your body—claim your thoughts as his so that all you think, feel and want is him.

“Ngh,” he groans, burying his face into the crook of his neck as he finally breaks and fat loads of hot cum fill you up.

Caleb holds you closer—securely—as he reels his Evol in, and slowly floats down onto the bed with you in his arms.

With the combination of the serum, your release and this newfound dynamic between you and Caleb, you’re out cold in seconds.

He feels your body going limp, giving way to sleep and presses his nose into your hair. For a few moments, he refuses to let you go, arms protectively wrapped around you.

Then, the peace is shattered by a polite knock on the door.

“... Colonel… we need to evaluate her…”

Shit. He licks his lips and groans softly. You’re so warm, so comfortable in his arms. He can’t let you out his grasp.

But, duty calls and the Farspace Fleet is a minefield of legality. He can’t steal away and run off with their test subject.

Not yet, at least.

As much as he wants to stay like this with you forever, Caleb steels his heart and pulls out of your warm, slurry depths. He dresses you first, and then gets himself presentable.

First Commander Brigette of the medical aide steps in at his signal. Her silver hair is tightened into a bun and mirrors the tight look of dismay on her face.

“Sir, it is imperative—”

“Don’t. Not now,” he mutters tersely and straightens his tie. “Just check if her vitals are alright. And, don’t you dare mention this to anyone else, you hear me? If you do, things’ll get messy for me—the next round of body bags hasn’t been shipped in yet.”

She nods, though she looks like she wants to argue.

The rest of the fleet didn’t yet know of his true relationship with you—to them, you’re just a pretty face their Colonel took a fancy to. And, he wants to keep it that way for as long as he can while he formulates the best plan to get you to safety.

“The sedative we gave her was meant to lower her inhibitions enough to confess,” Brigitte murmurs. “I didn’t think—”

“If she doesn’t wake up, I’m throwing you and your team right into the Deepspace tunnel,” he threatens.

The award-winning scientist flinches, and lowers her gaze. “Colonel Xia, we will recover the antidote for her quickly.”

Caleb exhales, the tension in his broad shoulders lessening slightly. That’s what he likes to hear.

Brigette soon finishes her rounds of physical examinations on you. She bows and exits the medical room, leaving him alone with you again.

Caleb steps forward and gently runs his gloved fingers through your hair. In the silence of the fleet, where mechanical whirs mingle with his steady breathing, he makes you a promise that he will do everything in his power to fulfill.

“I swear I’m getting you out of here in one piece, Pipsqueak.” He leans forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Swear it on my life.”

He told you before that you would always see him when he came home and this time, he intends to keep his promise till the very end.

a/n: i need this man biblically and carnally,,,, feedbacks and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

#lawd have merthy #˚₊‧꒰ა ma1dita’s hall of fame! ໒꒱ ‧₊˚#caleb lnds

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eeboyysworld · 3 days ago

Text

“ Let me be one of your girls tonight! “

—⋆. 𖦹 ࣪⋆.˚

Genre: Smut

Lee Myung-gi (player 333) X Male!Reader

Cautions/Warnings: Thigh job, No penetration but he has a breeding kink, Marijuana, Implied fear of homophobia , Reader is referred to as a ‘girl’ , Feelings (the worse),

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Every motion you made had your vision laggy, everything in slow-motion had you giggling like a schoolgirl.

The smoke filled room was suffocating, but not as much as your pants.Yep, you had popped a stiffy in-front of the boy , you had recently started to crush on.

Like you’re going through puberty all over again..

Flustered with yourself, guilt swept inside you mixed with guilty pleasure. Eyes keen on watching the other’s fingers skillfully wrapping a joint, tongue coming out to seal it.

His face wore bruises, having been getting on everyone’s nerves ( not yours ) hands scattered with small cuts.

‘What a man..’ maybe you had said the last part out-loud in a hushed whisper, as he looked back up at you.

Questioning, “ You said what?-“ making your face even redder, coughing into your palm muttering ‘nothing..’ shoving your rolled up hoodie on-top your shorts. Getting rid of the evidence.

The dizziness inside you only grew bigger as you leaned into him, your chest on the others clothed back, the heaviness of your whole head had you resting on his shoulder.

Watching the man put the joint to his lips, “Light?” Easily reaching into your pants, fingers grazing each other as you handed it over.

The spark emitting both of your faces, smoke wafting upwards , successfully hot-boxing you guys even more.

Conversation rolled on as time passed, jumping topic to topic, until the question of girls popped up. The question leaving you dazed, worry wavering off of you.

“You a virgin?” The accusation was like a slap to your face, staring dumbfounded .Do you really look that much of a loser.

You weren’t a virgin.At-least.. not with boys. With girls ..oh ye, you were a total virgin.

You couldn’t say that though.

“No..i-i been with women..” a complete lie.If that wasn’t the least obvious sign that you were, in-fact, clueless to girls.

He didn’t say anything at that,just laughed at your red face, the giggles coming out in Huffs.

It only went on for a few seconds before it got quiet. The silence was relaxing, even though you felt nervous.

The other just layed there, man spreading across the sofa. You two were rather close, fingers an inch away from each other.

He observed you, eyes red clouded with curiosity. Hidden with something else ,you couldn’t pin point.

“You swing the other way?” You froze, mouth suddenly dry. Were you guys close enough to be talking about whose dick was in what hole..

Maybe not, you were both guys in college so anything is possible at this point.

You couldn’t wiggle your way out of this one. Left with no choice but to answer.”Was it that obvious..”

To your surprise he only chuckled, tilting his head backwards. He was all relaxed, nonchalant. You were the complete opposite.Body as stiff as your dick, thoughts running through you like a train.

It was quiet for a bit, the soft humming of the a.c in the background, radio playing a soft tune being the only noise.

For a while the other just kept on staring, his sharp gaze laid heavy, melting your body further into the molds of cushion.

Suddenly, a confident hand rested on your thigh. The contact made your skin tingle.

Confusion sparked your face, the closeness of his body against yours was enough damage.But now, he’s touching you, especially so close to your dick!

Are you in heaven.

“What are you doing..?” The room seemed more stuffy, your question hung in the air, left to be unanswered.

The shorts you wore began to ride up as the other gripped the flesh, leaving the skin irritated.

Agonizingly trailing upwards, the pads of his fingers smooshing together. You made no move to stop the lingering touches.

“These would look good wrapped around me.” The man practically gawked at your bare skin, groping the flush skin impossibly harder.

Speechless at such a confession, you spoke no word, afraid you would straight up start moaning, or say something you would regret.

Taking notice of no response, he stopped, hesitantly moving his hand away. The lack of touch left you pouting.

“Why’d you stop..” The other watched you complain before sitting himself up, grabbing your own hand.

“Do you want me to keep going?” It looked like he was questioning himself, you could practically explain 333 reasons on why he should keep going. Nodding frantically, “Please..” pleading him with your head tilted, eyes wide and desperate for touch.

The two of you only observed each other, drinking in the sight. Your eyes taking hold of his lips, trailing back upwards to the clouded gaze.

Things escalated quickly from there.

His hands found your waist, the tension was thick, the two of you fumbling into each other’s hold, shy little pecks on the lips.

He was unsure what to do.. he never been with another man.

But you came along, with your long lashes and plush lips begging to be plucked. Forbidden fruit, that he has his hands on.

The taste of sweetness mixed with bitterness enhanced his senses, becoming high on you rather than the weed.

Slow and steady kisses went on to greedy nips, concealing needy moans.

The position was awkward, forcing you to pull away, tiny gasps for breathe. Sensing your discomfort, he gently guided you to lay down, back hitting the comfort of soft blankets.

Positioning himself in a more conventional way.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him into a heated kiss, his stomach just an inch away from your clothed hard one, the tiny friction making you jolt.

Before things get too serious, you called out his name, “Myung-gi.. “ the latter paused , glancing at you. “Have you done this before..”

He hadn’t. Shaking his head side to side, confirming your suspicions.

It was cute, the way he became so flustered after being all confident.

Smiling, reassuring him that you’ll take it slow. It wasn’t like you haven’t been with other clueless men looking to expand their horizons.

Taking the lead in this situation, sitting yourself on-top your elbows, licking your lips as habit.

No longer shy as you groped him through his joggers, the thin material folding against the force, outlining the length.

Tiny huffs heard above you, maintaining eye contact, teasing the other.

“Just-t..stop teasing..” a grin masked your lips, admiring your work of undoing.

His v- line prominent, a slightly visible stain soaked into the grey material, dick twitching from lack of contact.

Pulling away, hooking fingers under the bands of your shorts, slowly pulling them off. He could only watch in anticipation.

The fabric pooled around your ankle, bringing your leg up so the other could yank it off.

He’d seen naked men before , not by his own choice..years of being in locker rooms of high school boys.

You were different, captivating him the moment you waltzed into the room, energy radiating off of you like warm rays.

You were more pretty than a girl to him.

It was innocent admiration at first , but then the summer heat wave got to you, therefore the shorts you wore became shorter and shorter, showing off the plump skin.

Shirts becoming tighter or looser. Both were hell and heaven for him.

It wasn’t long before his imagination got to him, dazing off into the distance.

Greedily taking in any sight that behold you.

He hadn’t made a move until this night , the night you two were gonna relax from all the exams and studying you had. Relax away from money problems.

The high must of made him way too confident.

His hand tracing your hip bones, leaving you ticklish and giddy, sensitive to the touch. Sweat from the heat glistened on your skin, he wanted your body littered with his bites.

Once again , pulling yourself up, hooking into his pants before yanking the whole thing down.

Free from restrictions, tip glow an angry pink, pre-cum pooling down.

Unsure of what to do, the other just sat there on his knees, the cushion stabbing into him.

“Just relax..I’ll take care of you.” The kind words were rather funny considering you held his dick in your hand.

Smiling sweetly, before spitting on his length. You haven’t even started yet and he could paint your face white right there.

taking control of the situation, you guided him towards your thighs, which were slightly open for him to continue.

The need to release was heavy, the urge to grab you and hold you down was overwhelming.

So that’s what he did.

The shyness wore off as it was replaced with hunger.

Slipping himself through your inner thighs, forcefully shutting your legs together. Warmness greeted him, his hips stuttered a bit.

It wasn’t enough for him, taking it upon himself to spit onto the curves of your skin.

The wetness created more accessibility. Sliding in and out, soft thrusts turned into harshness.

Each time he kept hitting your own length, the stimulation made you desperately arch into air, searching for your release.

Bringing your leg upwards, he began to bite down creating bite marks, littering your skin.

Sucking into the flesh , muttering “- Been thinking about just biting into you like this-“ the suction urged you on to sobs, your sensitive spot being used agian and again.

The room smelt of pure sex, the smoke lingering the halls, the soft tune no longer heard among the cries.

“M-much.. better than - any girl I’ve had.” Hoisting your legs into the air before leaning downwards to hold your legs to your chest, smooshing your thighs together.

The added pressure spiralled him on, blabbering about having his kid, being his house-wife ..it was nonsense and ridiculous , yet you found yourself yearning for it.

Your voice echoed on , begging to have his baby. Clenching your thighs , trapping him so he wouldn’t pull out, ( he wasn’t gonna)

The sound of wetness could be heard, as he stammered into your hold , thrusts becoming jerkily.

Cum splattering onto your stomach and chest, the shirt nearly off your neck. Continuing to buck into you, chasing his high , as his body became limp.

Cooling off before hovering over you .

Lifting your legs apart, the sticky cream attaching itself thigh to thigh, deliciously dripping down the back of your legs.

He could pop another boner at such sight.

Clearing his throat, eyeing the bite marks he made, the marks red contrast to your skin.

“Wanna go again?”

Fuck the studies. You would fail happily after this night.

———

Need more posts of him🫡🫡

#bottom male reader #squid game x male reader #lee myung gi #player 333 #male reader #smut #gay #don’t like don’t read #squid game x reader

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satsugacafe · 2 days ago

Text

𝐉𝐮𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦 𝐇𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

➳❥ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: (1) Can I ask for relationship hcs for Jugram?(If it really possible? Lollol) And NSFW too, if u dont mind :)This boy need more love in this fandom :c (2) Can you please write sfw and nsfw headcanons for jugram, yhwach (separately) x fem reader? Thanks ❤️❤️

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: Yhwach headcanons will be in a separate post, anon, since I wrote so much for Jugram. I really hope you all enjoy this and aren’t overwhelmed by the length, because I tend to be thorough for these types of content, and I also wanted to write a lot for him (he’s my fav). I also sectioned of the SFW from the NSFW for those who just wanna read the SFW.

➳❥ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: I tried to make this entirely GN reader, but got sidetracked in the NSFW section, so fem!reader in the NSFW section, very long, possessiveness, talks of hard and soft dom!Jugram, oral (giving & receiving), rough & soft sex, sub!reader, marking (spanking & creampies), hair pulling, pet names, fingering, aftercare

➳❥ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: SFW and NSFW headcanons for being in a relationship with Jugram Haschwalth

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

「 ✦ SFW Headcanons ✦ 」

˚₊‧꒰ა He wasn’t perfect when it came to dating you. At first, he made it appear out of duty rather than emotions and connections, so it was a bumpy start. Juggling you, his duty to Yhwach and his friendship was an imbalance in the beginning. He struggled to separate his time for each of you.

˚₊‧꒰ა Dating Jugram is not an easy task because you have to be prepared to have most of your time with him fragmented, because of his dedication and loyalty to Yhwach. A date you two planned might be interrupted by the sudden request of his presence or helping him de-stress would be interrupted by him needing to sort out some arising matters.

˚₊‧꒰ა You once joked about how Yhwach might be jealous of you stealing away his right-hand man and having him devoted to another, which made him momentarily smile. He doesn’t admit it much, but you make him feel alive and help add colour to the mechanical aspect of his life.

˚₊‧꒰ა You must be prepared to receive his form of words of affirmation. They’re not over-the-top, or flowery. Instead, they are rather curt and straightforward. His compliments and adoration surround your duties and how good you are to him. “You were excellent today on the field,” he’ll mention softly, or on softer days, “You’ve ruined me, you know?”

˚₊‧꒰ა There are moments when you can manage to catch him in a slight sentimental drift, and many tender words come tumbling out. Preferably during a stressful period when Yhwach came down harsher than usual, or he had a burnout—he would hold you tighter as though you were his lifeline. “This feels nice. Thank you,” he whispers into your stomach as he holds you.

˚₊‧꒰ა It’s an odd, yet comforting and understanding gesture you had come to learn about him. Given his childhood and upbringing, physical affections weren’t something Jugram relied on or received in a comforting manner. It left him touch-starved with a bitter taste in his mouth. Hesitant to approach the act even though he desired to.

˚₊‧꒰ა So when you came into the picture and started showering him with physical affection, he treated you with feline behaviour, seeking distance because it was overwhelming and not within his stoic mannerism to be so physical. But when he did come around, you’d get those moments when he would cling to you as though you were about to vanish.

˚₊‧꒰ა All his touches are reserved for closed doors, minus brushing your hair out your face, placing a hand on your lower back or brushing his hand against yours. He found it odd how much he craved your warmth and safety. You were his safe haven.

˚₊‧꒰ა Falls asleep in your arms after a long day of duties and overseeing the Empire for Yhwach. At first, he used to tense when you ran your fingers through his hair. Now, he melts under your touch as it lulls him to sleep. Your arms have become a frequent place for him to disassociate from the world.

˚₊‧꒰ა Speaking of hair. You once asked him for his hair routine, and he calmly stated that he had none and that his hair was naturally silky and majestic. You had never been so bummed out in your entire life. However, it doesn’t stop you from offering to wash his hair or combing it after a long day.

˚₊‧꒰ა You’re the only person who can convince him—through dire persuasion—to allow you to style his hair during your private moments behind closed doors. But you’re not getting to put bows and clips in his hair. He’ll let you put some braids in since he’s from a time when braids were a common practice and a form of affection, even let you wash his hair (scratch his scalp and he might pur).

˚₊‧꒰ა Though, he would request that you keep your affections quieter in public settings since he had his professional image to upon and Yhwach was always observing. He didn’t need his King questioning why you were clingy and could not control yourself.

˚₊‧꒰ა Getting Jugram to whisper those three little words was perhaps a roller coaster ride. To him, his acts of service and words of affirmation should be enough to let you know that he loved you. Why do you need him to vocalise it?

˚₊‧꒰ა A trip to one of the female Sternritters or Bazz would let him know that it was important to say nonetheless. And that’s how you got Jugram to whisper, “I love you,” in the most heartfelt and tender tone as he held you closely. Still, it’s not all the time he says it.

˚₊‧꒰ა Expect to hear it if you get injured and he nearly loses you, after a sentimental moment filled with reassurance, or when you shower him in kisses and whisper the words until he mutters them with a tender smile.

˚₊‧꒰ა As an individual who is focused on displaying his devotion through his loyalty and service, the same will be done towards you. Silently draping his cloak over you when he notices you forgot yours or were chill, sending up fresh tea or breakfast each morning because he knows you’re too stubborn to eat properly, helping you ascend through the ranks.

˚₊‧꒰ა Jugram cares more than he likes to admit, believing that his actions were enough to convince you of his affection and devotion towards him. In the beginning, your relationship would be rough since he treated it like a duty similar to serving Yhwach. You had to be patient when it came to teaching him the proper ropes of relationship etiquette, so he could excel.

˚₊‧꒰ა Overprotective to some degree. The world is already cruel to Quincies, he doesn’t need to lose someone he considers important to the horrors of this world. Hence, his reason for excluding you from certain fieldwork or tagging along for extra security when he can. If not, he would pair you with someone he considered capable, though he never once saw anyone worthy of protecting you besides himself.

˚₊‧꒰ა His protectiveness does become overbearing because he treats you like glass as if you didn’t have the capability to dismantle the second-strongest Quincy with a few sweet words and hugs. It does lead to arguments which results in getting nowhere due to his stagnation. However, for your sake, as much as he wouldn’t outrightly admit, he would ease up on certain protective measures.

˚₊‧꒰ა Gifts will be given and that’s one time Jugram will not hold back, nor will he accept you informing him that he was doing too much. It’s his way of expressing his love and devotion—by wanting the person he’s with to have all that they need and want to make living comfortable. “Is there anything else you wish for, liebchen?”

˚₊‧꒰ა It is also his way of apologising if he did something. However, he would take a trip to Bazz, Askin or Bambietta for a bit of advice on what he could do to make it up to you, without revealing your relationship details.

˚₊‧꒰ა On that note—incredibly private on any topic involving your relationship and hate when something speaks about you. He would stand nearby, straining his ears to overhear the conversation, and should it be negative, whoever it was, would be removed from office before the day was over. “You’ve exercised your ability to be insolent for quite some time—today that ends.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Doesn’t like when you talk negatively about yourself because what do you mean you don’t see yourself as capable or strong or worthy? Hello?! In his mind, the fact that you were able to convince him that you were the best person to be with and managed to bag yourself a complex man like him, was an accomplishment by itself. You should be praising yourself, highly.

˚₊‧꒰ა He would be awkward on the emotional spectrum of consoling you. He would sit there, staring at you and wondering what exactly he should do. Say something? Hold you? Give you space? Sit and wait till you were done? Call for help? His words, when he does find the right thing to say, will carry notes of warmth and appreciation. “Please do not cry, schatz. It hurts me to see you this broken—you are one of the strongest people I know.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He would nestle you in bed, draping a ton of blankets over you and demanding that you remain stationed since you were in no condition to perform your duties. Would send the servants to fetch you food and tea, and well…you might be lucky to have him feed you.

˚₊‧꒰ა Stepping aside from that, you have Jugram who grows weak and flustered whenever he sees you in his clothes. Be it his uniform or his clothes, it doesn’t matter if it’s fitted or loose, he grows weakened at the sight. His hands would curl into fists at his sides as he fights to restrain himself from holding you. “You look…—It would appear that my clothes suit you better than me.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Reassurances. On his end that is. You need to let this man know that he’s enough and important. Let him know how much you adore and need him, he is loved and appreciated. He’ll fumble—stunned at the emotional display of words being directed towards him but appreciated them.

˚₊‧꒰ა Now, onto kissing him. The first time he experienced what a kiss felt like, he would not admit it—he melted on the inside and couldn’t shake the feeling of your lips on his. From that day on, kissing you has become one of his favourite forms of physical affection. Be it to his forehead, the crown of his head, your hand or wrist, your cheek, neck or lips.

˚₊‧꒰ა There’s something about you kissing him goodbye or good morning that helps to make his day a little brighter. It’s like a good luck charm that unconventionally chases away the stormy clouds.

˚₊‧꒰ა Kissing him easily ventures into an erratic interaction if one of you doesn’t break apart. His lips will remain glued to your skin and wander, while his grip on you tightens, his body pressing firmly against yours. He becomes a little more vocal during this moment, his terms of expressions confidently flowing from his mouth. “You drive me crazy, you know that? I could keep you here with me all day—you’re mine.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Ah yes, how could I have forgotten. His possessive streak. You cannot tell me that this man is not naturally possessive and jealous. Like why do you need to be close to others when you have me? Why do you need someone else to train you? I’m here. Where are you going without me? Why was that person flirting with what’s mine? “You’re mine, don’t forget that, or I’ll have to remind you and everyone else.”

˚₊‧꒰ა When it comes to ensuring that you and others remember who you belong to, Jugram transforms into a calculating, dominant individual (as if he isn’t). He wouldn’t be heavily affectionate and whatnot, but he will hover and remain glued at your side, and use terms of endearment a lot more, like ‘Schatz, engel, liebchen, liebe lien and so forth.’

˚₊‧꒰ა He’ll whisper against your lips after a hungry kiss, “You’re mine. Don’t forget that, or I’ll have to remind you.” His way of saying that you’re his, while it is possessive, he says it with the hidden meaning of ‘Don’t leave me, you’re all I have,’ since you are regarded as the (second) most precious person to him. You gotta fight against Yhwach for first place.

「 ✦ NSFW Headcanons ✦ 」

˚₊‧꒰ა First and foremost, his cock is pretty (if y’all didn’t know that). It’s pretty just like him—long, thick and girthy. And his stamina is insanely otherworldly. He could edge himself for a long while, all for the sake of ensuring you come first, and to display his dominance.

˚₊‧꒰ა He is a service top. This man’s entire life is built around being devoted and serving, you cannot tell me that while he retains his dominance, he is willing to showcase his ability to care and provide through being a thorough lover—listening to your needs and desires and giving, while incorporating his touch.

˚₊‧꒰ა He thrives off knowing that your pleasure is taken care of and you are satisfied. But it doesn’t mean that he isn’t willing to accept reciprocity. On his days when he’s stressed or requires reassurance, you just gotta push him down in his chair or bed and get to work. He’ll be gripping the sheets or you for life.

˚₊‧꒰ა Now, with his service top complex, he is a dominant, somewhere in between a hard and soft dom. Being submissive isn’t something you would get from him, but Jugram will allow you a moment to show your devotion by relaxing and letting you do your thing. He’s still holding onto the reigns.

˚₊‧꒰ა So, with his possessive streak, he enjoys body worshipping and leaving his mark all over you, in discreet places, of course. His mouth is attached to your skin throughout the entire session. If he’s not whispering in your ear, he’s biting or kissing your skin. Or his hands are gripping you tightly to leave a few bruises. And, uh, he secretly enjoys it when you leave scratches down his back.

˚₊‧꒰ა You once saw him looking at his back in the mirror one morning after a rough night, his fingers tracing the red lines he could reach with a small smile on his face. He likes the idea of having a mark that represents you, on him.

˚₊‧꒰ა Now, speaking of marking. Jugram has a thing (his possessiveness) for filling you up to the brim and no, he doesn’t agree to make a mess. It’s either swallowing (if you’re into it) or he empties himself inside you, and he prefers the latter a lot more due to his mild breeding kink. It’s not to get you pregnant, but he enjoys the idea of you being thoroughly marked through this method.

˚₊‧꒰ა He’ll calmly push his cum back into your pussy if it was spilling out, murmuring about how pretty it looked in you, and this leads to him fingering you into another orgasm. He also enjoys watching his handprints all over your ass after he spanks you.

˚₊‧꒰ა When he’s being a hard dom, you can expect it to showcase during times of high stress or you’ve riled him up. He’s rougher and will have you pinned under him for hours, leaving you incapacitated when finished. He’ll take you from behind, pulling your hair to sink you into a deeper arch while leaving handprints all over your ass as he whispers his filth. “Look at how well you take me. Just like that, liebchen. Squeeze me tighter.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He’s a simple guy when it comes to positions, sticking to missionary, face down ass up, cowgirl, bent of his desk and taking you against the wall. As for where he takes you, mainly resides behind closed doors—you aren’t getting him to take you in public. In the bedroom or in his office for the most public of places.

˚₊‧꒰ა His patience is unnerving. The way you could tease and taunt this man the entire mission, even if it takes days to complete, he will retain his composure UNTIL you return to Silbern. Then it’s his game, and you are to do as he commands otherwise, punishment.

˚₊‧꒰ა Jugram’s usual form of punishment, when you misbehave, would focus on spanking, overstimulation, edging and orgasm denial. He loves to hear you beg and sound needy and desperate for him—fuels his pride to know you want him so badly. He’ll use this opportunity to have you on your knees and show him just how much you crave him—suck his dick.

˚₊‧꒰ა I’m serious. He really enjoys it when you suck him off—when you struggle to take all of him yet determined to continue pleasing. It makes him smile as he guides your mouth along his cock. “Such a good girl. You’re doing so well.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Ugh, the way he speaks to you during sex is heavenly. The things he says make you question where this vocality was hiding. “You were made for me, every inch of you belongs to my will,” “I can’t get enough of you,” “Look at me—let me see how crazy I drive you,” “Do you feel that? How consumed you are by me?” “You know exactly what you do to me, and you like it, don’t you?” “Say my name. Say who you belong to.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He loves to whisper and remind you that you belong to him. Whether you’ve done something that requires him to put you in your place or a passionate moment—he’ll always tell you that you’re his and never forget that.

˚₊‧꒰ა Underneath this shell of his, Jugram also has his softer dom side which is displayed more often whenever you two have sex on the regular. His soft dom side is filled with him expressing his reverence, like a sentimental moment, a little session before you sleep or you returned from fieldwork alive. Along the lines of that.

˚₊‧꒰ა His lips are attached to you most of the time, his forehead against yours and looking into your eyes. There’s not an inch of space between your bodies due to the way he’s moulded himself against yours. A little more vocal in terms of moaning, and fewer words since he’s deep into the moment, trying to connect with your soul.

˚₊‧꒰ა Eye contact is a serious thing for him. Whether his face is buried between your thighs, you’re going down on him or either of you are on top, he wants to maintain some level of eye contact.

˚₊‧꒰ა During his softer side, he’ll have you face him a lot more and will also allow you to ride him without attempting to manhandle you under him. However, the grip on your waist and hips is a silent reminder that he is still in control.

˚₊‧꒰ა Ah, yes. Pet names. I know I’ve mentioned terms of endearment he would address you by, but during sex, he’ll call you a ‘good girl,’ ‘princess,’ ‘darling,’ ‘sweetheart,’ in his sultry voice. Especially when he’s moaning in your ear or sweet-talking and praising you.

˚₊‧꒰ა Jugram really loves it when you moan his name. It doesn’t matter how. Be it sweetly, raspy, broken, squealing, whining, pathetically—he loves the way his name rolls off your tongue. A reason why he indulges in eating you out, just to watch you lose composure as you struggle to catch your breath and speak his name.

˚₊‧꒰ა I might not have mentioned it, but Jugram loves the way you taste. The act of eating you out is something he views as him venturing into losing control. Like, he knows he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself after getting a taste. He gets so lost in your taste, that he can’t believe you’re this heavenly and capable of making him lose his composure.

˚₊‧꒰ა He’s not going to tell you this, but during the session when you take the lead, mainly because of him being stressed or needing reassurance. When you praise him, letting him know how good of a lover he is, how he takes good care of you and how important he is to you and the empire—he loves it. Makes him feel good.

˚₊‧꒰ა Just praise this man more often. He praises Yhwach far too much, that he deserves his moment for being front and centre.

˚₊‧꒰ა This one doesn’t matter whether or not he’s in hard or soft dom mode: wear lingerie for him and watch as he slowly cracks, especially if it’s his favourite colour. He has a preference for babydoll dresses, but honestly, just wear lingerie or even his clothes if you want to drive him up a wall.

˚₊‧꒰ა Whisper in his ear how much you want him, run your hands all over his chest, rake your fingers through his hair. Congratulations, you have a composed man who lost his control and has become unhinged. If you’re in his office, you’re getting bent over his desk, if in the bedroom, then pinned under him in some position.

˚₊‧꒰ა Not a fan of quickies since he isn’t allowed to have you the way he would like, however, he would oblige if he has the time for them, due to your persuasive methods. A quickie in the shower is one he wouldn’t have an issue with.

˚₊‧꒰ა Doesn’t matter whether hard or soft dom, aftercare is important to him. Jugram will clean you up, get you a glass of water and massage what areas he can while asking how you’re feeling. His favourite aftermath is mostly pillow talk, as you two are lying in each other’s arms, your body still trembling from the intensity because he’s a thorough lover. He’ll press a kiss to your hair and whisper, “You did well. I love you.”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @edensrose

#˚₊‧꒰ა satsugacafé ໒꒱ ‧₊˚#˚₊‧꒰ა satsugasweets ໒꒱ ‧₊˚#jugram haschwalth x reader #jugram haschwalth smut #jugram haschwalth scenario #jugram haschwalth headcanons #jugram x reader #jugram smut #bleach x reader #bleach imagines #bleach x you #bleach headcanons #bleach x y/n

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