#lads caleb

[sayangrafayel]

Caleb: If you sneeze and I say bless you,

Caleb: The only thing you should say is thank you,

Caleb: I don't need to hear this how did you get into my house, how did you bypass my security, I thought I checked for hidden cameras all over my house shit.

Caleb: We don't got time for that.

[militaryapple]

I'LL GIVE IT ALL TO YOU.

synopsis. caleb finds out you’re sleeping with other men. other men who look like him. if you wanted him so badly why didn’t you say so? it’s fine, he’ll just fuck the sense back into you.

cw. fem!reader, praise, edging, overstimulating, calebs a big meanie, reader fucks around and finds out, breeding, idk I need him so bad.

add ons. guys I'm so tired OH DONT GAG ME I FORGOT TO FIX THE SYNOPSIS THIS WAS MADE AT LIKE 11 AM BABES

wc. 2.2k

caleb has always had tabs on you. whether you liked it or not. he needed to know what you were doing, who you were with. it was just.. a safety precaution - well that's what he told himself anyways. he knew your friends , the people you worked with , even going as far as learning who your neighbors were. he could only thank his position as the fleet's colonel for letting him get this information. he was originally going to plant a chip in your phone and learn about both your social and personal life but this just made his little watch-sessions a little easier than what they had to be.

and so caleb thought he had nothing to worry about, truly. he knew where you were at all times and have been in your life for a decent amount of time there should be no one new. well - anyone that poses a threat to him anyways. it's not like you could hide anyone from him anyways.

is what he thought, so so foolishly.

it wasn't until you started spending your time at different places. unknown places at that. caleb took note of each and every house you were in. he took note of the people who lived there. man after man after fucking man. he didn't want to think the unthinkable, how you could be so stupidly whoring yourself out for perverts? one night fucking stands? this wasn't like you, far from you. it wasn't until he looked closer at the men you were fucking, and jesus.

they looked somewhat similar to caleb. it only engulfed him with rage. his heart hurting and pounding. if you wanted him so badly why haven't you spoken to him? talked to him? why were you going around trying to find scraps of him while he was already here for you? with you? arms open and ready for you whenever you were ready for him? that's when caleb decided he needed a bit of time off from work.

caleb made his way home. door opening as he scanned the living room for you. he sat down on the couch, still. he was going to talk to you about this little issue you had. it was gonna be fine, right? he talks to you, you tell him and this could all be swept under the rug. it wasn't until hours later, he heard the twist of the door and the creak of it opening.

just like when you both were in high school, every time you snuck out you would try to slip in silently. though you were never really silent, and caleb was the first to catch you back home before gran. what made you think this time would be any different?

he hands clenched as he stood. caleb didn't think about changing out of his uniform, hell he couldn't think about anything. all that filled his mind was anger. pure. fucking. rage.

"welcome home." he said, it was almost bittersweet. you looked at him, with a sheepish smile. waving. "hi caleb, didn't expect you home." was all you were able to muster out, and that was before caleb took a step closer to you. he watched as you twist and turn, looking for an escape. anything to help you leave, but that wasn't happening. not with him. not now.

"where were you?" he asked, his gaze shifting from you to your body. the clothes you wore tolling him more than enough.

"out." you said softly, you gaze averting his. "with a friend."

caleb scoffed, grabbing your arm and pushing you on the couch as he leaned down. you felt like you were being interrogated, which in theory, you were. "bullshit." he snarled. "you wouldn't be out for hours at some 'friend's' house. nonetheless a friend named fucking jacob. do you think I'm dense, pip-squeak?" caleb was angry, his hands balled up. his body shaking. every movement made him want to die, he could smell the foreign musk, the way you attempted to fix your hair. it was the only time he couldn't bear to be near you.

"he looks just like me." he scoffed. "just. like. me." he moved away from you. in a situation like this, you would've blown up at another guy. yelling at him on how he was able to even find out what house you were in, but it was caleb. of course you couldn't hide anything from him. how stupid could you be trying to anyways?

you couldn't say anything, you wouldn't dare. you lowered your head, but caleb wasn't taking that. he grabbed your chin tilting your head upwards to face you. "don't do that pip-squeak. if you wanted me - craved me, fucking needed me , why didn't you say anything? I'm here. in the flesh." his words piercing through you. oh how he hated being mean towards you, your wavering lips was all that he needed to see before he eventually got down. your head lowering so you could make comfortable eye contact with him.

calebs hands moved from your chin to your cheek. "come on pips," he huffed softly. "you're being reckless for no reason. instead, I'll show you how much I want you, how much I missed you, yeah? you don't need those other guys. after all, they can't beat the real thing." he snickered softly, and you could only nod your head in approval.

"ah-ah, say it. I need a verbal answer." caleb wanted to make sure what he was doing was okay, was right. he wanted to make it known that after tonight, there were no more caleb 2.0's. no more 'casual friendship'. that there would be more than what the two of you already had.

"please show me caleb."

he tugged on your skirt, pulling it down your leg as he rubbed small circles on your panties making you groan. he was being mean. really mean. you grabbed his arm, "caleb, don't tease me. your hands are cold - ah, your gloves." you whined. caleb could only chuckle. "you think you can tell me what to do right now baby? really? just shh and enjoy what I'm giving you."

you groaned, he was slow, too slow. your heat dripped as you twitched and squirmed. caleb used his evol to keep you down, leaning in and placing small kisses around you neck. "do you know how long I've had to restrain myself?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"how many times -" kiss. "I've had to get off thinking about you?" kiss. "I've held myself back until you were ready." kiss. "and you've made it so so difficult baby." kiss.

each word sent a shiver down your spine, teasing you and handling you. caleb looked over at you smiling. "i think you're ready, don't you?" he said softly.

caleb leaned in towards your aching cunt. staring at it like he was starving. he grabbed his hat before placing it down on the side of the couch. "grab on my hair if its too much 'kay baby?" he rubbed your thigh. you nodded in agreement as a smirk laid on his face. Caleb dug in. he licked your cunt making you mewl. your hands searched for something, anything to do.

caleb sucked on your pretty clit, groaning as he tasted your sweetness. he used his free hand, making his way up your body. finding your hand and making sure he intertwined both of your fingers.

he was starved. he placed sloppy kissing on your lips. his tongue finding any to go deeper in you. you felt hot, fuzzy. he made you feel so fucking good, other men were useless compared to him. he was right, nothing - nobody compared to how he made you feel.

and right now he was making you feel fucking divine.

the feeling of calebs tongue on your click made you shiver in ecstasy, it wasn't until moments later you used the hand on his head to pull him back. oh did he look absolutely pussy drunk off you.

your juices flowed off his chin while he licked his lips. the way he looked up at you in pure bliss. oh god did you love this man. "you look so cute, and you taste perfect." he said softly, going back and licking the juices he neglected. you shook and grabbed more of his hair.

"caleb 'm gonna -" you whined, bucking your hips up as he used his hand to hold you down. the other still holding your free hand. caleb hummed in approval, giving you the signal that you could finally let out the release you were holding in. caleb suckled for a moment before moving back, admiring the mess he just made of you.

he got up, his evol lifting you as he sat down in the spot you were once in. his legs spread before placing you in between them. his fingers pushing your panties over before they made their way inside your cunt. your hips buckled at the feeling, caleb grabbed your waist with his arm bringing you back down.

"its okay baby, you can take it." he coos "I know you can, 'gotta make sure you can take me , hm?" you moaned as his fingers stretched you. the sensation of his gloves curving as he hit every spot of your gummy walls. you clenched and twitched between him, making him plant soft kisses on your face down to your neck. "cmon you can take it. stay still, if you don't get through this you wont be able to take me." he reassured you. how big was he?

caleb pushed another finger in. hushing you and kissing you while tears strained down your face. oh he was being mean. "caleb - please 'm gonna cum again" you cried. in response he moved his arm that was holding you down. now using one hand to pump his fingers in you and another to move in little swirls on your clit. you throw your head back in pleasure.

"aren't i the best? making you cum twice? jacob couldn't do that, could he now?" he hummed in your ear, you whined in approval. caleb moved his hands out of you. "since I'm feeling generous, I'll let you ride my cock. but in return.." his voice trailing off as he moved his finger to your belly.

"I'm gonna make you into a mother." he coo'd in your ear, nibbling it. "so I can show everyone who you belong to. to show that you don't need other men. I'm here." caleb planted a kiss on the back of your neck.

it didn't take caleb any time before he was unzipping his pants, pulling on the fabrics waist line and pulling out his cock. "I need you to relax for me, you're ready." he said, pulling you up by your hips and straddling you down on his hard on. oh god, did he feel good.

your cunt dripped all over his base. he couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. "look at you, messy girl. we haven't even started yet you're already dripping all over me." he grunted adjusting himself a little more.

caleb rocked your hips. he whined for you "mhm that's it, work those hips for me." he moaned. he loved the feeling of pumping his inches in and out of you. the 'pop' noise your cunt and his cock made as he slid out and back in.

your cunt was brimmed to the top with cock. so full it made you think of only him and you. fuck, you were lewd. you couldn't even form a sentence, the only sound coming out of your mouth being moans and pants that were increasingly getting faster and faster.

"gonna come again? come on come with me its - ah okay." his voice was raw and rasp. his gloves dug into your skin as you made a mess on both his cock and his uniform. he didn't care, he was going to clean his uniform this week anyways. it was a sign to let people know that he was yours, and you were his.

caleb still fucked you deep. he caused your toes to curl up and your legs to lift to help him massage every part of you. clit and all. he grunted as he slammed into you, his rhythm leaving and now becoming messy thrusts. "I'm gonna come inside baby, okay? yeah? I'm gonna make you a mommy. oh fuck" he groaned.

"gonna make you bear all my children. fuck fuck" his hips stammered. "just me 'n you 'kay?" you clenched down on him. your back arched as your hands made their way to his thighs gripping tightly.

caleb bit down on his lip, not wanting to hurt you. both of your breaths steadying before caleb moved his head in your neck. he didn't dare pull out, all of his sweet cum would leak out, and you wouldn't want that right?

"I told you," he heaved "I'm better then some lousy rip-offs pip-squeak." he panted heavily. you nodded in approval. he knew that you wouldn't go to any more one night stands. still, there was a long way to go. he still hasn't made you a mom.

and he was going to make sure you bore his children.

[gomtangii]

sweet honey!

caleb x fem!reader cw: caleb eats pussy again, face riding, pet names (princess), caleb has endless stamina, it's short

"c-caleb," you moan, gripping onto the bed frame as you ride his face. he dips his tongue back into your folds, slurping your nectar before sucking on your clit. you squeal, the stimulation a bit too much and attempt to move away when you feel his large hands grip your thighs harder, keeping you in place. he could've used his evol, sure, but he enjoys the feeling of dimpling your soft thighs and would much rather touch you himself.

"just a bit more, princess, i promise," he grunts in between licks, going back to eat you out. it's been how many hours since he's started? and he has yet to relent, even with his cock being rock hard. he just can't get enough of you—he has to make up for the past several years after all.

suddenly, he pushes you away and manhandles you onto your back with your thighs pushed up against your chest. he dives back in, his tongue lavishing attention on every inch of your cunt.

"i can't, i can't—" you whine, trying to push him away but he doesn't move an inch. the coil in your stomach becoming more and more taut with each lick when it finally snaps. your body shudders with your climax, your eyes covered with stars as you ride out your high, caleb gently laving your pussy with soft licks to help you through. once you calm down, you hear him unbuckling his belt, tossing it aside on the floor as he climbs on top of you.

"just," he lets his cock spring up from his boxers, "a few more hours to go."

i wanted to pump out the zayne valentines thing i had but damn i cannot write

[sylusvrse]

IMAGINE . . . the lads LIs playing an otome game ?!

what would it be like if the love and deepspace love interests played an otome game in which YOU were the love interest instead? ⸺ heavily HEAVILY inspired by a thread on twt by @/Myaurxra_ on the same prompt!!

zayne who is strictly f2p. i cannot imagine this man spending money on the game. he occasionally plays during his breaks. he listens to the tender moments as background noise while he works. he has your affinity level at about 68 which is the culmination of many months checking in and mostly doing his dailies.

zayne who actually uses the ‘remind me’ feature to help him get some rest. nothing beats your sweet voice telling him he’s working too hard and that he needs to go to bed!!

zayne who seems like he’d be a very casual player who enjoys the sweet, soft cards. however, tomorrow’s catch-22 drops and he is a changed man!! <3

xavier who is somehow incredibly lucky without even trying?? he’s pulling your 5 star memories left and right, early pity. definitely posts his pulls on social media, which is the envy of everyone else.

xavier who enjoys the combat system the most. he clears abyssal chaos and the hunter contest with ease. it comes quite easy to him, the protocores, the substats, the playstyles.

xavier who only pays for the aurum pass, but that’s about it when it comes to his spending. he’s living off a hunter’s salary and can only offer so much to his virtual wife…

rafayel who is glint photobooth’s greatest enemy. he has all of your outfits and accessories unlocked. he didn’t buy those all for nothing. he’s spending hours on glint photobooth and snapshot, capturing your beauty just right. he’d post it on social media like the masterpiece you are <3

rafayel who actually takes the time to play the stories and read the lore. his assistant is calling him, but he couldn’t care less. he needs to know what happens next. he’s laying in bed, kicking around like a schoolgirl with a crush. he’s currently sobbing over your backstory and getting pissed off on your behalf when another character wrongs you.

rafayel who has your affinity level already maxed out. he’s flexing the ring on every outfit he dresses you up in. he’s cleared out all the story content there is to offer, besides the combat levels. he rarely plays the hunter contest, but he occasionally does abyssal chaos to read the stories and interactions.

sylus who is an absolute whale. we all know it. he is R3’ing all of your memories. lost a 50/50? doesn’t matter, his card is already out and ready to be used.

sylus who finds the game to be a rather endearing past time. you’re a welcome break in his busy day. luke and kieran will find him at his desk, looking rather amused as he pokes his phone for maybe the hundredth time tonight.

sylus who sends luke and kieran out to buy merch for him when he’s busy, sending them in his stead to fan events. he advises them to stop at nothing. online bid? he’s already won. limited edition merch item? he got it three weeks before it was even announced with his connections. on his desk, you’ll probably find a small acrylic stand of you by his computer.

caleb who actually has horrible luck. he has most of your standard 5 star memories maxed out, mostly due to losing so many 50/50s. at first he was like “psh. it’s just a game. i won’t have to spend any money.” but, then he lost the 50/50 on the anniversary banner and the flood gates opened. now, he’s willing to drop large amounts of money at a time if it means getting your precious memories.

caleb who takes full advantage of the ‘quality time’ feature. mostly to unlock your workout outfit, but he likes to have you cheering him on by the side while he completes his regimen.

caleb who gets oddly competitive during kitty cards? like he’s about to crash out the moment you cancel out one of his assist cards. his hands are gripping the phone, his palms are sweating, his breath is hitching, he’s grunting in frustration. someone looks over his shoulder to see what the hell is stressing him out so much… you just changed his teacup color from red to blue…

[roselias-posts]

[invaderzia1]

nsfw mdni

yadda yadda yadda, thinking of caleb laying on his bed with you sitting on his lap holding a marker. it started as something innocent and playful, but now you have him under you, laid back with his shirt pulled up. he’s completely at your mercy, not that he’d rather be anywhere else but here right now.

he watches as you start writing, recognizing your signature followed by a cute heart, and he swears he’s never gotten harder in his entire life. fuck, you’re marking him as yours??? holy shit he could die happy. has to close his eyes and let out a shaky breath, because he knows he’ll cum way too early if he doesn’t.

and you barely even stop writing, sticking your tongue out cutely as you focus on writing in your prettiest handwriting. your hands make their way down his body as you work on properly marking him, ignoring the way he whines as you keep not touching him where he needs you to.

then he feels your hands move to his jeans, unbuttoning them and moving the zipper down. he opens his eyes and reaches down to help you take them off, but your hand swats his away. instead, you pull them down just enough to see the base of his cock and draw an arrow. then in your prettiest handwriting, you write “mine” and draw several hearts near it.

reaching over to the night stand, you grab your phone and start taking photos of him, his face blushed a cute pink as he looks up at you.

[sofiaswrittendelusions]

“My wife.”

synopsis idea by: @starlitfool 🙏 “y'all remember when caleb had mc pretend to be his girlfriend back in college? i offer now to the caleb girlies council this consideration: mc pretending to be the colonel's wife at some farspace fleet gala/function/thing. thank u and goodnight”

The gala was a spectacle of power and politics, a glittering battlefield where words were weapons and alliances were forged under the weight of duty. Officers and dignitaries wove through the crowd, their conversations laced with veiled threats and rehearsed charm. It was the kind of event Caleb had attended a thousand times before—where appearances mattered more than truth, where strength was measured not in victories but in perception.

But tonight, none of it mattered.

Because you were on his arm.

Draped in elegance, fitting so seamlessly into the role of his wife that it made something dark and possessive curl inside him, something that had never truly left since the first time he heard you call yourself his.

It had started as a necessity, a calculated move—the Colonel’s wife carried more weight than any civilian could, allowed access, turned heads, ensured questions wouldn’t be asked. But it wasn’t the first time.

Years ago, when you were both younger, when his obsession was still something new and raw and barely contained, he had pulled you into his orbit with a simple phrase—play along, sweetheart. You had been surrounded by vultures then too, leering eyes and unwanted attention, and Caleb had hated it. Hated the way they thought they could look at you, let alone speak to you.

So he had intervened.

Wrapped an arm around your waist. Let his gaze burn through anyone foolish enough to challenge his claim. Felt something primal settle deep in his bones when you leaned into him, trusting him to play the part.

But that was a lie, wasn’t it?

Because there was no acting when it came to you.

He had never truly stopped seeing you as his.

And tonight was no different.

His fingers pressed against the small of your back, just firm enough to remind you that he was there, that you belonged beside him. The men he spoke with were high-ranking, powerful in their own right, but none of them held his attention.

Not the way you did.

You shifted slightly, polite smile never faltering as you listened to the conversation, but he felt the way you tensed when someone’s gaze lingered too long.

His grip tightened.

A silent warning.

You exhaled softly, leaning the smallest fraction closer, and it nearly undid him.

He had fought in wars, survived battles that left others broken, but nothing—nothing—unraveled him the way you did.

“You’re perfect like this,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, meant only for you.

You inhaled sharply.

He felt it against his skin, the way your body reacted before your mind could catch up. The way you stiffened—not in fear, but in awareness.

And Caleb lived for it.

The night stretched on, a blur of empty pleasantries and strategic conversation, but his focus never wavered. Every time someone so much as glanced in your direction, his hold on you tightened. Every time your gaze flicked to his, searching for something—reassurance? Permission?—he was already there, already watching, already owning the space between you.

By the time the gala ended, he had you pressed against his side, guiding you toward the exit with the same quiet authority he always carried. You let him, falling into step as if it were natural. As if this wasn’t temporary.

As if you were his.

The car was waiting, sleek and dark, windows tinted to keep the outside world from seeing what was his to protect. The door shut behind you, locking the two of you away in the silence of the night.

For the first few minutes, neither of you spoke.

Then—

You frowned slightly, glancing out the window.

“Caleb… this isn’t the ride to my apartment.”

His lips twitched. Not quite a smirk. Not quite not one either.

“I meant our home,” he murmured, voice slow, deliberate.

The words hung between you, thick with something unspoken, something dangerous.

He watched the realization settle in, the way your body stiffened beside him, the way your breath hitched.

His gaze was already waiting when you turned to him, violet eyes gleaming in the dim interior.

And then—he leaned in.

Slowly.

A measured, predatory shift, invading your space without hesitation, letting his warmth, his presence, his ownership wrap around you entirely.

“You were my wife all night,” he murmured, voice deceptively soft. “You don’t want to stop now, do you?”

Your lips parted—whether to protest or to agree, he didn’t know. Didn’t care.

Because your body told him everything.

The way your pulse fluttered at your throat. The way your fingers curled against your lap, as if resisting the urge to reach for him. The way your breath caught when his hand—flesh this time, warm and possessive—tilted your chin just enough to keep you from looking anywhere but at him.

And then, quieter, more intimate—

“My wife wouldn’t leave me alone tonight.” A pause. A slow drag of his gaze down to your lips, then back up. “Would she?”

You swallowed hard.

And Caleb knew.

Knew that he had you again.

Just like before. Just like always.

But this time—

This time, he wouldn’t let you go.

[rafayelxsylusho]

The first time he heard you 🫲🏻 yourself...part 2

Finally done with this one!!

TW: SMUT

and also Caleb calls us meimei a couple of times

Enjoy!!!

"Did you call for me pipsqueak? Did you moan my name because you needed me?"

Your heart races as you tug your hands away from your sensitive flesh, a rush of embarrassment and shock coursing through you.

You can't help but let your gaze rake over Caleb's form, tall and imposing. His eyes are dark, almost black in the dim light of the room, and you feel pinned in place by his intense stare. Your heart hammers wildly in your chest as you sit up, the sheets rustling loudly in the sudden silence.

"Caleb," you breathe out, voice trembling slightly as you try to gather your thoughts. "I... I didn't know you were awake. I thought..." You swallow hard, realizing there's no way to explain what he just saw. What you were doing.

Embarrassment colors your cheeks a deep, telling red as you quickly tug his shirt down, trying to cover more of your bare legs. Your hair is messy around your face, a clear indication of your recent activities. You feel the lingering heat between your thighs, the dampness that coats them, and pray that Caleb can't somehow sense it, that he can't guess at the filthy thoughts that were running through your head just moments before.

You feel your heart leap into your throat as he approaches you, dominating the space around the bed. His eyes, dark and intense, never leave yours as he closes the distance between you. You can't look away, trapped by the force of his gaze.

His large hand reaches out, fingers brushing against the fabric of the shirt you're wearing. The shirt that was once his. The one you "borrowed" without asking, loving the way it smells like him. Like home.

"Pipsqueak," he murmurs, his voice is low and rough, sending shivers down your spine. "You moaned my name." It's not a question, but a statement. A realization. His fingers curl into the fabric of the shirt, fisting it slightly.

"And I heard you," he continues,he is so close you can feel the heat radiating off his body. His other hand comes up, cupping your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. "I heard you moan my name, princess."

His thumb brushes over your lower lip, a gesture that's almost tender. Almost loving. But there's something else beneath it. Tension. Hunger.

"No wonder I couldn't find this shirt," he says, giving the fabric a slight tug. "It was here all along. With you." His eyes bore into yours, searching. Seeing. Knowing. "Were you thinking of me, pipsqueak? Is that why you were touching yourself? Imagining it was my hands on you instead of your own?" His voice drops to a whisper. "Making you come undone?"

You try to speak, to form words, but your throat feels tight, your mouth dry. Caleb's proximity, his eyes looking at you, has rendered you speechless. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest, echoing loudly in your ears as you stare up at him, eyes wide. He's so close now. Too close. Close enough that you can feel his breath on your face, smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with something uniquely him. It's intoxicating. Overwhelming. Your head spins slightly as you try to process his words, the implication behind them.

His hand on your chin, his fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt that you're wearing, it's all too much. Too intense. Too...everything. Your body feels hot, your skin tingling where he touches you, where he's not touching you. You're aware of every inch of you.

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice. Trying to deny his accusation. But the words won't come out. Because deep down, he's right. In your mind, it was him. His hands, his touch, his body. You were imagining it was him bringing you to the brink of ecstasy, his name on your lips.

Your tongue darts out, wetting your dry lips, and you see his eyes follow the movement. Your breath hitches, chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggle to maintain some control. But it's a losing battle. You're losing yourself in his dark eyes, drowning in the intensity of the moment. All you can manage is a breathless whisper, a single word that hangs heavy in the air between you. "Caleb..." It's a plea. A question. A prayer. You don't know what you're asking for. But you know you need it. Need him.

Caleb leans in even closer, his nose brushing against your hair, inhaling deeply. He breathes in your scent, his lips curling into a smile against your temple. "You smell like my shirt. Like you've been wearing it all day, maybe hoping I wouldn't notice." His hand slides from your chin, fingers trailing down the side of your neck. Your pulse jumps beneath his touch and he feels it, of course he does. Nothing escapes Caleb's notice.

"What were you thinking about?" he murmurs, his voice low against your ear "When you had your fingers buried deep inside your little cunt." His other hand moves from the shirt, his palm pressing flat against your stomach, fingers splaying possessively over your belly. "Tell me what had you so worked up, princess. What dirty thoughts were running through this pretty little head of yours?"

His lips press against your neck, just below your ear, and he nips lightly at the sensitive skin. Not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to make your body jolt with pleasure and pain. You can't hold back the moan that escapes your lips as his teeth graze your neck, your body arching into his touch involuntarily. "Caleb," you whimper, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. But before the sound can fully register, he's hushing you, his finger pressing against your lips.

"Shh, keep your voice down," he warns, his own voice a low rasp. "Grandma's sleeping right next door. Wouldn't want to wake her." Despite his words, there's a glint of dark amusement in his eyes, as if the idea of being caught together like this appeals to some primal part of him. His hand on your belly moves to your inner thigh. He can feel the heat radiating off your skin, growing more intense with each inch he covers. As his fingers reach the apex of your thighs, he pauses, brows furrowing as he encounters an unusual texture. He glances down, noticing the damp spot that has formed on the sheets and shirt beneath you, a clear indication of your arousal. His eyes widen slightly, understanding dawning on face. He looks back up at you. "Pipsqueak," he murmurs "You're not wearing anything under my shirt, are you?" His fingers press lightly against the drenched fabric of the shirt.

"You're fucking drenched," he says, "Were you this wet just from thinking about me? From touching yourself to the thought of being with me? Fuck," he groans, his own arousal growing, straining against the confines of his pajamas. "If this is what you're like from just touching yourself, I can only imagine how soaked you'd be if it was really my cock buried inside of you"

You squirm beneath his touch, feeling the heat of his hand so close to your aching pussy. Deep down, you know this is wrong. Dangerous. "Caleb, we... we shouldn't be doing this," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's not right, not with Grandma right next door..." Your words trail off, lacking conviction even to your own ears. You want to push his hand away, to put an end to his sinful, tempting touch. But your body remains still, frozen in place, trapped between the need for him and the knowledge that this is a line that can never be crossed.

Caleb ignores your protest, too consumed by your body's response, the damp patch on the shirt growing with each passing second. His thumb finds your nipple, touching the stiff peak through the thin fabric of his shirt. He circles it slowly, teasingly, feeling it harden even more under his touch.

"Shouldn't be doing this?" he whispers, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches your face, taking in every expression, every hitch in your breath. "But your body's telling a different story, pipsqueak."

His hand leaves the heat between your legs, trailing up, slipping underneath the shirt to cup the soft weight of your other breast. He squeezes gently, kneading the supple flesh.

"Look at how hard they are for me," he whispers, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "Look at how much your body wants to be touched by me. Tell me to stop then," he challenges, his eyes dark and intense. "Tell me you don't want this. That you don't want me."

As Caleb pinches the nipple, he is touching under your shirt, between his thumb and forefinger, a jolt of pleasure shoots straight through your core. Your legs part instinctively, knees falling open to expose your dripping sex to the cool air of the room. At the same time, your back arches, pressing your chest further into his touch, silently begging for more. He takes advantage of your body's display, bending his head to capture the stiff peak of your nipple between his teeth. Even through the thin, damp fabric of his shirt, you can feel the heat of his mouth, the way his tongue swirls around the sensitive bud. He suckles hard, the wet patch on the shirt growing as your nipple hardens even further from the intense stimulation. "Fuck, the way you respond to me," Caleb groans around your nipple, his words muffled but still clear. "Like your body was made for my touch. Made to be claimed by me." Your fingers tangle in Caleb's hair, tugging him closer as he lazes his tongue over the sensitive peak of your nipple. A needy whimper escapes your lips, your chest heaving with each ragged breath. Your thighs tremble, legs falling open even wider, inviting, offering yourself up to him.

Caleb's hand touching you under your shirt moves down and hovers, once again, dangerously close to your dripping sex. He teases you, not quite touching, his touch maddeningly close but not close enough.

"Tell me what you need, pipsqueak," he murmurs, his breath hot against your nipple, his words vibrating through your core. "Tell me to touch this pretty little pussy. Beg me to make you come all over my fingers."

"Caleb...please"

He bites your nipple softly, your fingers tighten in his hair, your body trembling with need beneath him. "Please what?" he murmurs, his voice a low, teasing rumble. "I need you to say it. To tell me exactly what you want." Your hips twitch, trying to close the minimal distance, to grind your aching cunt against his hand, but Caleb pulls back slightly, denying you the contact you crave.

"Tell me to touch this desperate, dripping cunt," he demands, his tone leaving no room for misunderstanding. "Tell me how badly you need my fingers inside you, filling you, fucking you until you scream my name."

His thumb brushes maddeningly close to your clit, making your body jerk and your breath hitch.

."Please, Caleb, please touch me," you whimper, your voice breaking with desperation "Please I need you inside me" Your hips buck upwards, trying again to close the remaining distance between his teasing fingers and your soaked, aching sex. "Please, I can't take the teasing anymore. I'm so fucking wet for you, Caleb. I'm dripping all over your shirt. I need you to touch me." You look up at him with hooded, lust filled eyes, your cheeks flushed a deep, needy red. "Please, Caleb," you breathe out.

Before Caleb can act on your desperate pleas, you suddenly yank the shirt over your head in a desperate motion. Your naked breasts bounce free, the cool air of the room pebbling your hardened nipples. Caleb takes in the sight of your bare flesh, his gaze raking over every inch of exposed skin.

"Fuck, look at you," he growls "Desperate to be touched, to be claimed. Desperate to have my hands all over your body."

He leans down, taking one nipple into his mouth once more, but this time, there's nothing between his lips and your skin. He suckles hard, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud and at the same time, his hand moves, finally closing the distance between his fingers and your dripping sex. He cups your pussy, feeling the heat radiating from your folds. A low groan rumbles in his chest as he feels how wet you are, your arousal coating his fingers, making them glisten in the low light.

"God, you're fucking soaked," he murmurs against your breast, his fingers teasing along your slit, not penetrating, but close enough that you can feel the promise of what's to come. "Is this all for me? Are you this desperate for my cock every time you touch yourself, imagining it's me fucking this tight little cunt?"

"Yes, it's for you, it's always for you" you moan, spreading your legs wider.

Without warning, he plunges two fingers deep into you. Your walls flutter and squeeze around the sudden intrusion, trying to draw him in deeper. Caleb groans against your breast, the vibrations rumbling through your chest as he starts to pump his fingers in and out of your needy sex.

"Fuck, you're so goddamn tight," Caleb grunts, feeling your walls clench and ripple around his plunging fingers. "I can barely get two fingers inside your pretty cunt."

He starts to thrust faster, his fingers curling to rub against that sensitive spot deep inside you with each pass, his mouth moves from your breast, trailing open mouthed kisses across your collarbone. His tongue, hot and slick, drags up the column of your throat until he reaches the sensitive skin behind your ear. And then Caleb's thumb finds your clit, circling the swollen nub with ruthless precision. The combination of sensations, his fingers pumping into your dripping pussy, his tongue laving your neck, his thumb teasing your clit, has your hips bucking up to meet his touch.

"Caleb," you whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close as you grind yourself against his hand. "Oh god, Caleb..." He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Keep your voice down, beautiful."

He pulls his fingers out from your dripping sex, leaving you whimpering at the sudden emptiness. Before you can protest at the loss, he's settling his broad shoulders between your thighs, his mouth mere inches from your core.

Your body tenses, anticipation and nerves coursing through you as you feel his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh. You bite your lip hard, trying to stifle the needy whine building in your throat. He looks up at you, his dark eyes glinting with mischief and a dark promise. "I'm going to make you scream my name, I'm going to make this pretty little pussy come so hard, you'll forget your own name. The only name you'll remember is mine."

With that, he leans in, his tongue parting your folds in one long, slow lick. A moan tears from his throat at the first taste of your arousal, the sound vibrating against your flesh. Your back arches off the bed, your hands fisting in the sheets as pleasure crashes over you.

"Oh fuck, Caleb," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper. Your thighs tremble, the muscles quivering with the effort of staying still, of not closing around his head and grinding your sex against his face. Caleb plunges his fingers deep inside you once more. He curls them just right, rubbing against that sensitive spot that makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back in ecstasy. His tongue, hot and slick, laps at your clit, circling and flicking over the swollen nub in a rhythm that has your hips bucking uncontrollably.

Your moans grow louder, more wanton, despite your best efforts to stay quiet. The combination of his fingers pumping in and out of you and his skilled mouth devouring your pussy is unlike anything you've ever experienced. You've touched yourself, imagined this scenario countless times, but the reality of Caleb's touch surpasses even your most vivid fantasies.

Caleb feels your body tensing, your walls fluttering around his fingers as your climax approaches. He doubles his efforts, fingers thrusting deeper, tongue flicking faster, determined to send you hurtling over the edge into blissful oblivion. Your hands fly to your mouth, trying to stifle the scream of rapture that threatens to escape your lips as your orgasm crashes over you.

He doesn't let up, continuing to thrust and lick, drawing out your pleasure until you think you might pass out from sheer ecstasy. The feeling is indescribable, a mind-blowing explosion of sensation that eclipses anything you've ever experienced alone.

Caleb slowly withdraws his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth to lick them clean "Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined" He crawls up your body, his eyes dark and hungry as he takes in your flushed skin and heaving chest.

As his face comes into view, you find yourself acting on pure instinct. Leaning up, you capture his lips with your own, pouring all the pent up desire and longing from years of secret admiration into the kiss. Your lips move against his with a fervor that surprises even yourself. He kisses you back, his lips moving against yours with a familiar hunger that sends a jolt of memory through you. The memory of a stolen kiss, years ago, in the dim light of the garage. A kiss that tasted of forbidden fruit, a kiss that you swore never to speak of again. But as your lips move against his, the memory comes rushing back, as vivid and intense as the day it happened. The feel of his lips, the scent of his skin, the way his hands gripped your waist and pulled you closer. It was a moment of teenage passion, a moment that you both knew was wrong but felt so right.

Now, as adults, that kiss takes on a new meaning. It's a promise, a vow, a declaration of intent. Caleb's hands slide up your sides, cupping your breasts, kneading the soft flesh as he deepens the kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips, claiming your mouth, exploring every inch of you.

You can feel his arousal pressing against your thigh, hard and insistent. The knowledge that you've reduced him to this state sends a thrill of power and desire coursing through you. You know you should put a stop to this, but you can't. You don't want to. The need to be one with him is overwhelming.

Caleb breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your lips. "Tell me you want this," he demands "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."

"I need you," you breathe out, your voice heavy with desire. Your hands fumble with the hem of his shirt, trying to tug it up and over his muscular chest. Caleb helps you, pulling the shirt off in one swift motion and tossing it aside. Your eyes widen as you take in the sight of his bare torso, the muscles and lean lines. Caleb smirks at your appreciative look "You like what you see, pipsqueak?" he teases, flexing subtly under your touch. "This body is all yours, for the taking. All you have to do is say the word."

He leans down, capturing your lips in another kiss as his hands roam your naked body, caressing every curve. You can feel the heat of his skin, the power in his muscles, and it makes your core clench. He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point.

Caleb grins against your skin at your eager movements, he feels you struggle to remove his pajama pants. "So impatient," he teases, but he helps you anyway, lifting his hips to allow the fabric to slide down his muscular thighs and calves. His cock springs free, long, hard and throbbing, the thick shaft pulsing with his racing heartbeat.

His smile fades as your small hand wraps around his thick cock. He inhales sharply at the contact, his hips jerking slightly. "Fuck, your hand feels so good," he grunts, his voice strained. But then he pushes you back down onto the bed, his large hands gripping your shoulders.

"No, not right now, princess," he says, shaking his head. "Right now, I need to be inside you. I need to feel your tight little pussy wrapped around my cock. I need to make you mine." He settles himself between your thighs. The thick head of his cock nudges against your folds, slipping through the wetness and leaving a trail of your arousal in its wake. Caleb's eyes lock with yours, his gaze intense and full of unspoken promises.

"Tell me you're ready, meimei," he demands, his voice low and rough with desire. "Tell me you need me inside you, stretching you, filling you up. Tell me you want me to fuck you" He doesn't push inside, not yet. He waits for your permission, for your confirmation that this is what you truly want.

"Please, Caleb," you whisper, your voice trembling with need. You reach down, gripping his ass, your nails digging into the firm flesh and you guide him to your entrance, the head of his cock catching on your hole for a moment before you push him forward, urging him inside.

Caleb flips your positions in a swift, smooth motion, leaving you straddling his lap. He grips your hips, his large hands spanning your waist, and lines himself up with your entrance.

"Set the pace, princess," he murmurs, his voice a low, rough rumble. "Take what you need, what you want. Fuck yourself on my cock until you're satisfied."

His eyes are dark and intense as they lock with yours, filled with a mix of desire, love, and something more, something that says he wants to watch you claim him, to take your pleasure from him without holding back.

"Fuck me, meimei," he growls, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. "Show me how much you need it. Show me that this is what you've been dreaming of, what you've been craving. Show me that you're mine, now and forever." He doesn't push up into you, doesn't force you down onto his thick cock. He leaves that power in your hands, trusting you to take what you need, to set the rhythm and the pace. His heart pounds beneath your touch, his chest heaving with each breath.

Caleb inhales sharply as you sink down onto his thick shaft, his eyes fluttering closed at the exquisite sensation of your tight cunt engulfing him. He grips your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he fights the urge to thrust up into you, to bury himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust.

Halfway down, you pause, a soft gasp escaping your lips. "It's too much," you whimper, your voice tight "I feel so full, Caleb. So incredibly full."

Caleb's eyes snap open, his gaze intense and concerned as he takes in your expression. He can feel your walls fluttering around him, clenching and unclenching as they struggle to adjust to his size. He knows he's stretching you more than you've ever been stretched before, knows that the feeling of fullness is almost overwhelming.

"Shh, it's okay, princess," he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "You're doing so well, taking me so deeply. Just breathe, meimei. Breathe through the sensation and let your body adjust."

His hands slide up your sides, cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. "You feel incredible," he breathes out "Like you were made just for me, like your body was made to take my cock."

He sits up, pulling you flush against his muscular chest. His arm wraps tightly around your waist, holding you close as he starts to guide your movements. He doesn't force you to take him any deeper, respecting your need for adjustment. "Like this, princess," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "Nice and easy, just like that. You're doing so well, taking me so beautifully."

He rocks your hips with his, helping you establish a gentle rhythm. The new angle allows you to slide up and down without feeling overwhelmed, the drag of his cock against your sensitive walls sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. Caleb's hand slides up your back, his fingers threading into your hair. He tilts your head to the side, his tongue traces the line of your jugular, feeling the way your pulse jumps and flutters at his touch. "Your body is incredible," he breathes out against your skin, his voice rough with desire. "The way you move on my cock, the way you take me in..." His other hand slides down your stomach, his fingers finding your clit. He starts to rub the sensitive nub in slow, deliberate circles, matching the pace of your hips. The added stimulation makes your walls clench and ripple around him, drawing a low moan from deep in his chest. As you continue to move on his lap, finding your rhythm, you start to take him deeper with each downward thrust. Caleb's breath grows ragged, his quiet moans filling the room as your walls grip him tighter and tighter. The feeling of you enveloping him inch by inch, your pussy engulfing his throbbing cock, is almost more than he can bear.

"Fuck, princess," he grunts, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. "You feel so fucking good. So tight, so perfect around my cock." He starts to meet your thrusts, rolling his hips up to drive himself deeper into your core. The new angle allows him to hit that special spot inside you with each surge of his hips. "Am I hurting you?" he asks, his voice strained with concern and desire. "Tell me if it's too much, tell me if you need me to stop."

But he doesn't stop, can't stop, driven wild by the way your body is consuming him. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth finding your pulse point. He bites down, marking you, claiming you, as his hips thrust up into yours, driving himself deeper and harder with each passing second.

"Fuck, I can't..." he pants out, his voice wrecked and raw. "I can't hold back much longer, meimei. You feel too good, too fucking perfect. I need... I need..."

Caleb's eyes flutter open as you still your movements, meeting his gaze. Before he can speak, you capture his lips in a searing kiss, your mouth moving against his with desperate hunger. He kisses you back just as fiercely, his teeth nipping and tugging at your bottom lip.

"I love you," he breathes out against your mouth, the words tumbling from his lips like a sacred vow. "Fuck, y/n, I love you so much. You're mine, all mine." Hearing those three words, feeling the raw emotion make a new wave of emotion crash over you, and you start to move again, taking him to the hilt this time. You sink down onto his cock, your walls clenching and fluttering as you envelop him completely. You roll your hips, rising and falling, as you ride him with wild abandon. Each downward thrust drives him deeper, each upward roll of your hips bringing you back to the brink of ecstasy.

Caleb's hand slides from your hip to your stomach, feeling the way it bulges and stretches around his thick cock. He presses down on it, feeling the shape of himself inside you, the hard length of him pulsing and throbbing against your womb.

The sensation is too much for him. With a quiet moan of your name, he surges up into you, burying himself to the hilt. His cock jerks and twitches as he starts to come, his hot seed spurting deep inside your core.

"Fuck, y/n! Fuck, I'm coming! I'm coming inside you" His fingers dig into your hips, gripping you hard enough to bruise as he holds you down, forcing you to take every last drop of his release. His eyes squeeze shut, his head thrown back, lost in his climax.

The feeling of his hot cum painting your insides, claiming you from the inside out, pushes you over the edge. Your walls clamp down around him as your own orgasm crashes through you.

"Caleb!" you silently cry, not able to hold back anymore" Fuck...Yes, yes, yes!"

Your bodies shake and tremble together. The pleasure is so intense that it borders on pain. You cling to each other, riding out the waves of your releases, lost in the heat and the haze of your passion

Caleb hugs your waist tightly, his strong arms wrapped securely around you. He buries his face between your breasts, his panting breaths hot against your sensitive skin. His face is flushed, a deep rosy hue painting his cheekbones, proof of the intense pleasure and release you've just shared.

"Don't move, princess," he whispers against your skin "Let's stay like this for now. I want to feel you, all of you, wrapped around me."

"Do you feel that meimei?" he asks softly, "The way our hearts are beating together? The way our bodies fit, like two puzzle pieces made to interlock? Don't ever forget this moment," his gaze intense as he stares up at you. "Don't ever forget the way I feel inside you, claiming you, loving you. You're mine now, princess. Truly and completely mine."

Part 1 here

[sayangrafayel]

LADS react to you saying you want to quit your job (prank)!

Jobs can be so annoying sometimes and you fantasize on quitting, but you won't actually quit because apparently you need to worry about financial responsibility and all that! But in this universe, you love your job and you just want to prank them!

Sylus, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Caleb

Sylus

Gets so happy. What? You're quitting? That means you can spend more time with him, given his super flexible working hours!

Oh no.. now you're gonna steal the twins away from him even more than you usually do, huh... but he digress.

Quirks an eyebrow when you tell him it's a prank, he'd be lying if he hasn't fantasized about it.

Xavier

"But.. we won't be partners anymore.." "I mean, we'll still be partners but not partners, you know?!"

If you're quitting, then he's quitting too! He joins the Hunters Association only because he gets to work with you anyway! Even though he loves the job too but he can still do it without being tied to HA.

Relieved when you say it's a prank, since he knows how much you actually love your job no matter how tiring it is. Plus, you have him as your partner! He'll fill both your quotas!

Rafayel

GETS SUPPER GIDDY.

Really!? You're quitting your job? Then he's hiring you as his full time bodyguard and you can stay with him 24/7!!! Frowns when you say "No, I'm quitting my job AS your bodyguard!" "What do you mean by that!? Quitting as my bodyguard is not in your contract. 😤"

Feels happy and yet tricked when you say it's a prank... happy because you're staying with him tricked because what do you mean you can't be his 24/7 bodyguard and stay with him all the time!?

Zayne

Took it seriously.

"If that's what you want, then I support you. But can I ask why? Was the workload too much? I did tell you to quit many times because of your health but I always thought you loved it so much so I never really pushed-"

"Zayne, I'm just kidding." "Oh. Now that's the selfish brat I know." "HEY?" Somehow you become the subject of this prank...

Caleb

REALLY? REALLY? YOU CAN STAY IN SKYHAVEN FULL TIME NOW THEN!!!

"I make enough for the both of us so this is amazing! We can spend so much time together and you can finally move in with me! I can cook you breakfast and I can come home for lunch to see you!?"

You did not have the heart to tell him it was a prank.. but you had to.. but you suddenly can't remember why moving to Skyhaven and moving in with him are not the better choice...

[whosashan]

Hi! I love your LADS fics <3 if u dont mind i would love to know how youthink each LI do domestic things like grocery shop w mc, thanks <3

The Rhythm of Everyday

A/N: Hi there! I truly appreciate your kind words. I apologize for the delay in responding—life has been quite hectic with my final exams approaching. That said, I hope you enjoy!

Also, I feel like they might be a bit ooc, so if that's the case - then I apologize 😔

Xavier

Ever since moving in with Xavier, even the simplest errands had taken on an air of unpredictability. Grocery shopping was no exception.

Determined to finally stock the fridge, you clutched a neatly written shopping list as you walked into the store, intent on sticking to it. Xavier, on the other hand, had a more relaxed approach—one that involved significantly less planning and significantly more mischief.

It started small. A bag of chips appearing in the cart when you weren’t looking. Then a carton of ice cream. A six-pack of soda. You narrowed your eyes as you plucked out the offending items, holding one up in mild accusation.

"I didn’t make this list just for fun, you know."

Xavier merely smirked, his blue eyes filled with quiet amusement. "We need essentials."

"Essentials," you echoed, unimpressed, holding up a family-sized pack of cookies.

"Exactly." His voice was light, teasing, but there was something in the way he looked at you that made your stomach flip—like he was enjoying this little back-and-forth just as much as he enjoyed sneaking things into the cart.

What started as minor offenses quickly spiraled into an all-out game. You tried to stay vigilant, but Xavier was faster, smoother, slipping snacks and treats into the cart with the precision of a seasoned thief. You had no choice but to fight back, slipping in a bar of chocolate when he turned to examine the pasta aisle.

"I saw that," he murmured, his voice low with amusement. His lips twitched into something dangerously close to a smile as he plucked the chocolate from the cart and placed it back on the shelf.

You pouted in protest. "Oh, but your three bags of chips get to stay?"

"I work in subtlety," he replied smoothly, nudging the cart forward. "You, on the other hand, have all the stealth of a toddler hiding candy under a pillow."

You gasped in exaggerated offense, swiping the chocolate back and tossing it in with a triumphant smirk. "Then I suppose I’ll have to improve my technique."

By the time you reached the snack aisle, your little competition had escalated into a full-fledged debate over which brand of candy was superior. You stood your ground, arguing passionately, while Xavier, ever laid-back, leaned against the cart with his arms crossed, letting you talk—only to counter with a single, calm statement that completely dismantled your argument.

"You realize we could just get both, right?"

You huffed, grabbing both bags and tossing them into the cart. And somehow, as if by unspoken agreement, you both continued, plucking item after item from the shelves until nearly half the aisle sat stacked in your cart.

"You’re a bad influence," you muttered as you surveyed the damage.

Xavier merely tilted his head. "And yet, you’re the one who just grabbed another pack of cookies."

Before you could argue, he did something entirely typical of him—pushed the cart forward, only to grab your wrist and, with surprising ease, hoist you into the basket, careful not to cause any damage to your groceries or you.

You let out a small yelp, gripping the sides as he casually maneuvered the cart down the aisle. "Xavier!"

"What? You fit." He glanced down at you, his expression unreadable as always, but you caught the slight quirk at the corner of his lips. "Besides, this is efficient. You can’t take things out of the cart if you’re in it."

You wanted to argue, but between the sheer ridiculousness of the situation and the warmth of his hand resting briefly on your knee to steady you, you found yourself grinning instead.

That was, until you locked eyes with an unimpressed store employee.

Xavier slowed the cart to a stop, gaze shifting to the employee, then back to you. The moment of tense silence stretched—before you both burst into laughter. You scrambled out of the cart as Xavier muttered something about "killing all the fun," and the two of you made a swift retreat to checkout before you got kicked out entirely.

By the time you stepped out into the cool evening air, arms laden with overstuffed grocery bags, Xavier glanced at you with that signature, unreadable expression of his. And then, with no warning, he took off running.

"Xavier—" You barely had time to react before instinct kicked in, and you were sprinting after him, the two of you racing down the quiet streets toward home, breathless with laughter.

Your carefully planned grocery trip had turned into something else entirely. Chaotic. Unpredictable. Unapologetically fun. But then again, that was life with Xavier.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Zayne

You stirred in bed, feeling the space beside you empty, the sheets cool where warmth should have been. Zayne had already left for work, but his scent still lingered—a mix of clean soap and the faintest trace of a scent that's just him. Instinctively, you reached for his pillow, pulling it close in half-conscious longing. That’s when you noticed it—a small sticky note resting beside it, the crisp handwriting unmistakably his.

"I made you breakfast. It's on the kitchen counter. Remember to take care of yourself. I love you."

The simple words sent warmth through your chest. Zayne wasn’t one for extravagant displays of affection, nor was he particularly expressive when it came to feelings. But it was in the little things—like these notes, like the way he always made sure you ate, like the way he remembered details most would overlook—that his love showed through.

You stretched and finally climbed out of bed, padding into the kitchen to find the breakfast he’d prepared. The eggs were perfectly cooked, the toast golden, and the coffee just the way you liked it. As expected, everything tasted incredible—sometimes you wondered if there was anything Zayne couldn’t do.

As you ate, your eyes landed on another note stuck to the fridge.

"Check the fridge."

Curious, you opened it and were immediately greeted by the sight of a neatly placed slice of your favorite cake, wrapped carefully in a container with a fork resting beside it. You couldn’t help but grin as you took it out, snapping a quick photo before sending him a message.

"Spoiling me, aren't you?" You attached a picture of yourself mid-bite, looking perhaps a little too pleased.

Zayne’s response was nearly immediate. "It is only natural for me to take care of my lover."

A simple statement, and yet, it sent warmth creeping up your neck. Even after all these years, he still had a way of making you blush without even trying.

The day carried on, and you went about your usual routine, tidying up a little before getting ready to step out for errands. As you slipped your coat on, your fingers brushed against something in the pocket. Frowning slightly, you reached in and pulled out yet another note.

"Remember to dress accordingly to the weather."

A soft laugh escaped you as you shook your head. He must have left this here last night, anticipating that you’d rush out without checking the forecast. Peeking out the window, you realized it was colder than expected—of course, Zayne had been right. You sighed, grabbing a scarf before stepping out, a smile still tugging at your lips.

The rest of the afternoon went by quickly, and by the time you returned home, you were met with the familiar sight of Zayne’s neatly arranged shoes by the door, signaling his return. You found him in the living room, his tie slightly loosened, his posture still composed despite the long hours he’d likely endured.

"You’re home," you murmured, leaning against the doorframe.

His gaze lifted from the book he was reading, his expression as neutral as ever. "I am. Did you eat properly today?"

You smirked, walking over and settling beside him. "I did. Thanks to my very considerate boyfriend."

Something flickered in his eyes—an emotion softer than words, yet unmistakably there. You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling the exhaustion of the day melt away in the quiet comfort of his presence.

A moment passed before he spoke again, his voice low, careful. "Did you like the cake?"

You tilted your head up to look at him, your smile turning teasing. "Are you fishing for compliments now?"

His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to deny it, but instead, he simply sighed, shaking his head. "I am simply ensuring you were satisfied."

You chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw. "It was perfect. Just like you."

For a moment, he said nothing—just exhaled, eyes closing briefly as if he was letting himself absorb your words. And then, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it, he murmured:

"Good."

And that, with Zayne, meant more than a thousand words ever could.

Rafayel

Laundry day with Rafayel was never just laundry day.

It started simply enough—sorting through the mountain of clothes that had mysteriously accumulated over the week. You had just finished separating the whites from the colors when Rafayel waltzed into the room, barefoot, a loose button-up hanging off his shoulders in that effortless, disheveled way of his.

He took one look at the scene before him and let out an exaggerated gasp, pressing a hand to his chest like you had personally delivered a fatal wound.

"You started without me?" he whined, flopping dramatically onto the nearest pile of clothes. "Cutie, I thought we were in this together."

You snorted, tossing a sock at him. "You say that like you actually planned on helping."

"I was going to!" he defended, sitting up. "But now you've ruined my motivation. My artistic spirit is wounded." He pointedly rolled onto his stomach, chin resting on his hands, watching you with an exaggerated pout. "You should be making it up to me, not assaulting me with socks."

"You are literally lying on dirty laundry, Rafayel. That’s not exactly poetic."

He gasped again, as if personally offended by the very suggestion. "How dare you? Everything I do is poetic!"

Shaking your head, you grabbed a handful of warm clothes from the dryer and began folding. Rafayel, of course, made no move to help. Instead, he idly played with the hem of a shirt before suddenly holding it up with an exaggerated grin.

"Ah-ha! Finally, my masterpiece is complete!"

You blinked. "What?"

He slipped the shirt over his head with a flourish, the fabric way too tight for him. "You see, love, I have transcended fashion. This? This is avant-garde."

You stared at him, deadpan. "That’s my hoodie."

"Our hoodie," he corrected, sauntering over to steal another shirt from your pile and drape it over his shoulder like some kind of runway model. "Face it, darling, all your clothes look better on me."

"You are the most annoying person I’ve ever met."

"And yet," he purred, leaning in dangerously close, "you love me."

You sighed, but you didn’t argue. He grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your nose before finally—finally—deciding to be useful.

Sort of.

Because, of course, Rafayel didn’t fold clothes like a normal person. No, he dramatically shook out every single shirt, twirling them through the air before attempting what could only be described as the worst folding technique you had ever seen.

You groaned. "That’s not how you fold a shirt."

"Ah, but is there truly a right way to fold a shirt?" he mused, lifting one like he was contemplating the mysteries of the universe. "What is folding, but the physical manifestation of conformity?"

You grabbed the shirt from his hands, folding it properly in two swift motions. "It’s this. This is folding."

He let out a scandalized gasp. "You just destroyed art."

"Rafayel."

"Fine, fine," he sighed, plopping down beside you. But then his gaze flickered with something mischievous.

Before you could react, he grabbed a sock from the pile and tossed it at you. You barely dodged before retaliating with a towel.

And just like that, the war began.

Socks flew. Shirts were used as shields. Rafayel dived behind the laundry basket, dramatically crying out, "You betray me, cutie!" when you landed a particularly good hit. Eventually, he tackled you onto the warm pile of unfolded clothes, pinning your wrists above your head with a victorious smirk.

"Yield," he murmured, voice dipping into something softer, something almost sincere.

You swallowed, suddenly all too aware of how close he was, of the warmth of his breath against your skin.

"...We still have laundry to finish," you muttered.

His lips twitched, eyes gleaming. "You’re so practical. Can’t we stay like this a little longer?"

You rolled your eyes, but your fingers curled slightly under his hold. "Five minutes."

Rafayel grinned. "Deal."

And if the laundry still wasn’t done hours later… well, that was just another beautiful tragedy in his book.

Sylus

The first time Sylus attempted to braid your hair, you thought you were about to lose a chunk of your scalp.

“Hold still,” he grumbled from behind you, fingers threading through your strands with the delicacy of a man who had definitely never done this before.

“I am holding still,” you shot back. “You’re just yanking like you’re tying up a hostage—ow!”

He exhaled sharply, a mix of frustration and amusement. “Well, excuse me, princess,” he drawled, tugging a little harder just to be a menace. “Didn’t realize I was dealing with such delicate conditions.”

You huffed, swatting at his knee. “You volunteered for this, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I was under the impression that braiding hair wasn’t some arcane ritual requiring years of training.”

“You could’ve just let me do it myself.”

"And miss the chance to watch you suffer? Not a chance."

Despite his relentless teasing, though, he actually kept trying. You caught him watching tutorials on his phone when he thought you weren’t looking, muttering under his breath about over-under techniques and damn YouTube instructors talking too fast.

And after a few weeks of unsolicited (but secretly welcomed) practice, you found yourself sitting in front of the vanity, Sylus standing behind you, fingers surprisingly deft as they worked through your hair.

"Huh," he mused, his breath ghosting over the top of your head. "Not bad."

You blinked at your reflection, reaching up to touch the braid. It was clean, even, woven with precision—shockingly well-done.

"Sylus," you said slowly, turning to look at him. "You actually got good at this."

He smirked, arms crossing over his chest. "I can be gentle when needed, kitten."

You narrowed your eyes, pointing a finger at him. "You’re insufferable."

"And yet, here you are, willingly letting me touch your hair," he shot back, smug.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was impossible to ignore. Sylus was like this—sharp words, endless sarcasm, always keeping his true intentions tucked away beneath layers of teasing. But you knew better. You knew the quiet effort he put into things like this, the way he never did anything half-heartedly—not when it came to you.

"Fine," you sighed dramatically, tilting your head in mock defeat. "Guess I’ll just have to keep you around as my personal hairstylist."

Sylus snorted, hands already reaching to undo the braid, just so he could redo it better. "Didn't expect anything less from you, princess."

And as much as he teased, as much as he grumbled, you had no doubt that this would become a new routine—because Sylus, for all his rough edges, was the kind of man who showed his love not through words, but through every little, unspoken action.

Even if it meant begrudgingly mastering the art of braiding, just to spoil you a little more.

Caleb

It started as a joke.

You had been curled up on the couch, flipping through old photos when you stumbled across one from years ago—an old, grainy snapshot of you and Caleb, tangled up in a mess of blankets and pillows, grinning like idiots in the dim glow of a flashlight.

A pillow fort.

You snorted, nudging Caleb’s arm with your foot where he sat beside you, one arm slung lazily over the back of the couch. “Remember this?”

Caleb glanced at the photo, and something flickered in his expression—fondness, amusement, something else you couldn’t quite name. Then, slowly, he smirked.

“Oh, Pipsqueak,” he drawled, tilting his head to look at you. “Are you saying you wanna build one now?”

You scoffed. “I never said that.”

“But you want to.”

“I do not—”

“You so do.”

And that was how, ten minutes later, you found yourself watching Caleb steal every blanket and pillow in the apartment with entirely too much enthusiasm.

He had always been bigger than you—towering over you even as kids—but now, with broad shoulders and an easy confidence to match, he looked even more ridiculous draping a fuzzy pink blanket over the top of the fort like it was some grand architectural achievement.

“You’re taking this way too seriously,” you muttered, watching as he wedged a chair into position for support.

Caleb flashed you a grin. “You say that now, but someone was always the first to throw a tantrum if our forts fell apart.”

Heat rushed to your face. “I was ten!”

“You were dramatic.” He reached over and ruffled your hair, and when you swatted at his hand, he caught your wrist with ease, tugging you closer just to be a menace.

“Still are, actually,” he murmured, voice low as he leaned in. “Kind of cute, though.”

You scowled, pushing at his chest. “Let go.”

Chuckling, he finally released you, settling down inside the finished fort with an exaggerated sigh. The fairy lights you had strung up inside cast everything in a soft golden glow, the air warm and filled with the scent of fabric softener and him.

After a moment, you crawled in after him, adjusting the pillows before flopping down beside him. “Alright, not bad,” you admitted.

“Not bad?” Caleb repeated, raising a brow. “This is my best work yet.”

You rolled your eyes, but the fondness in your chest was undeniable. The last time you’d done this, you’d been kids—sneaking flashlights under blankets, whispering secrets and bad jokes late into the night.

“…Feels kind of nice,” you murmured. “Like old times.”

Caleb’s expression shifted—softer now, something warm flickering behind his gaze. His arm curled around you without hesitation, pulling you into his side, his touch firm but easy.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice a little different now, a little rougher. “But this time, I don’t have to leave when morning comes.”

Your heart skipped.

Because he was right. Back then, your forts had always ended with him sneaking back to his room before sunrise. But now?

Now, he wasn’t going anywhere.

You swallowed, curling into him slightly, fingers toying with the edge of the blanket. Caleb's hand settled at your waist, squeezing just enough to make you squirm, feeling ticklish.

Your face burned. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

And, okay—maybe you didn’t. Especially not when he kissed the top of your head, his voice a little quieter when he added,

“…Love you, Pipsqueak.”

And in the glow of the fort, in the warmth of his arms, you smiled.

[ranoutofficssoiwritemyown]

Now I wanna write this about Caleb too

Maybe I will 🤭

You decide to sleep on the couch after an argument

love and deepspace

characters: Zayne, Sylus (pt2 with Rafayel and Xavier here)

note: they might be a little mischaracterized so bear with me.

Zayne

Usually, arguments with Zayne don’t get this heated. There was no yelling, not on his part at least, but he could be really cold with his words when he wanted to be. Not that you were any better. Some things you said hurt him to no end. So you came up with a decision - to sleep on a couch tonight. To be honest, it was more because to be petty, than not wanting to spend a night beside him. You gathered your pillow and blanket and got comfortable on the couch, which made Zayne sigh out loud when he entered the room.

“What is this?”

You turned your back to him as an answer. Another sigh comes out of his mouth. He’s exhausted, physically and emotionally, and you acting like a brat doesn’t ease anything at all.

“I know you’re mad, dear but is this necessary?”

No answer.

“Alright”

He left the room and before you could convince yourself that you didn’t care he was back with a blanket of his own and took a seat in an armchair. You turn your head towards him in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“I guess we’re not sleeping in bed tonight”

“I’m not. You can go”

“I believe I didn’t stutter”

You scoffed and turned around again.

“suit yourself”

Minutes pass and sleep doesn’t come to you. Whether it’s because of an uncomfortable couch or an absence of his arms around you is hard to say, but after turning around thousands of times and still not being able to sleep is frustrating.

Finally, Zayne had enough of watching your struggle.

“How about we go to bed?”

“No” came your response after a second of hesitation. With a small amused smile on his face, he hovered over the couch.

“What do you say… I take you to bed and you can curse me out for it tomorrow?”

You shifted a little but didn’t answer, which made his smile widen. He gathered you in his arms and your lack of objection was all he needed to take you to your room and tucking you in bed. Even though you seemed to warm up he didn’t know how far he could push you, so kneeling beside the bed to be on your eye level he started:

“If you still need space I can-”

“Stay”

He smiled at you tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Okay”

He got up and kissed your forehead before slipping in beside you and pulling you closer.

"I'm sorry..." you mutter

"Shh, we'll talk about it tomorrow... but I'm sorry too"

You smile a little. You two will sort this out tomorrow.

Sylus

What Sylus says, goes around. His word is the law. This is what he’s used to. That's how it's always been.

Then you came into his life and even though he’s still in charge of how things go in the N109 zone, you just need to say the word and everything will be how you like it. No questions, no hesitation. He would give you the world if you so much as whispered the need. Whatever you want, whatever you need, he will make it happen.

Unless, when it comes to your safety. Now don’t get me wrong. Sylus knows you can defend yourself and then some. But when it comes to the N109 zone, there are things Sylus knows better than you. Additionally, The fact that you can be reckless in your battles does nothing to help ease his worries.

That was the reason for the heated argument tonight. Sylus with his harsh words and snarky remarks always finds a way to infuriate you. So you two go on and on for half an hour now and none of you seems to back down. You storm off to your room and take your things to get comfortable on the couch. However, on your way out Sylus blocks your way. He raises an eyebrow at the blanket and pillow in your arms.

“Now, what exactly do you think you are doing, sweetie?”

“move”

“I asked you a question”

“I’m not sleeping beside you- Sylus” you exclaim as he hoists you over his shoulder. you punch and scratch his back but to no avail.

“Careful with your claws, kitten”

He drops you on the bed climbing over you.

“Now listen, this is what will happen. You will stop acting like a wild kitten and sleep beside me. I am sorry for hurting you but we will discuss it tomorrow, when we are both a lot calmer. Understood?”

You don’t want to give in so easily. You also don’t want to sleep without him tonight. So you nod avoiding eye contact. He, however, doesn’t accept it and raises your chin with his finger to make you look at him.

“Use your words, sweetie”

“Yes”

“Splendid” He removed himself from you so you could get under the blanket. He laid beside you and pulled you closer so your head was resting on his chest.

"Sy... I'm sorry too"

"So I'm Sy now?"

This man.

"Nevermind, you're still a prick"

You try to remove his arm but he holds you tighter as he laughs.

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry, sweetie"

You felt him kiss the crown of your head as he caressed your shoulder with his thumb. you return to your previous position and listening to his heartbeat, sleep lured you in soon enough.

[i9eto]

ᵎᵎ 𓏲 ❛ i want you to touch me の　masterlist 次 next

TAGS◝ nsfw, dub-con, somno, cunnilingus, slight dry humping, implied drugging, petnames, profanities, y/n calls caleb 'gege', sex without protection, mentions of impregnation, pwp, spoiler from the main story (chapter 4), mdni

PAIRING◝ mc or f!reader x caleb

SUMMARY◝ is it really appropriate to have a wet dream of your childhood friend?

NOTE◝ first time writing a slightly dark theme kinda nervous

it was a chilly night at linkon. you’d come home late at night every day ever since that explosion happened at your grandmother’s home. what’s the use of coming home early anymore? your gege was gone, and if it wasn’t for your current apartment being a sanctuary for all of the things he had ever given you — whether it was big or small, inanimate or animate, alive or dead — you kept it all. the entire place looked like a museum of you and him from all the years, and you’ve grown to feel suffocating staying in your apartment.

you couldn’t bear it but you can’t throw those gifts away either, so you try to stay away as often as possible. you’re mourning, you tell yourself. mourning, or refusing to move on, and let him pass peacefully?

you often thought that you’re selfish for this. but you also don’t like dwelling on the past too much. it makes you sad, it makes you regret; and nothing angers you more than regret.

you arrived at your apartment at the same time your little grandfather’s clock would ring as it hits midnight. you stopped by your kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water, pausing just a second as you bent down to take your shoes off and tossing it somewhere in the dark before picking up the glass to finish it all in one go.

you don’t really bother putting your things where they belong; you toss your bag onto the shoe rack, but you would take your dirty socks off once you stepped into the living room. your jacket dropped to the floor, and you’d only realise how messy your apartment is once you reached your bed and noticed the freshly done laundry from last week and this week had taken a big space on your bed.

it didn’t bother you enough to get to work, so you fall asleep on top of the pile of clothing.

you haven’t dreamt in a long time, not since you lost him in that explosion. perhaps it’s because you missed him so much that you were now dreaming of him, you’d even welcome the idea of the ghost of him finally deciding on latching himself onto you after spending every day, for a couple of hours, sitting by his grave – sometimes blaming him for dying, sometimes telling him how you miss him.

you were lying on your stomach when you first fell asleep, and in this dream, you were in the same position as when you had fallen asleep. you feel large, much colder hands tracing your back with its big palm. one was much colder than the other, almost metal like. the pair of hands slowly traced the curve of your spine, raking your shirt up to the cool air. the hands continued to trace upwards, going separate ways to feel both of your arms.

“mm, mm…” you huffed in your sleep, the hands were ticklish because of the coldness. one hand, the colder one, pried itself between your fingers, pinning one of your arm down onto the bed. the other hand, was a little warmer. it gripped on your wrist, and in this dream, you could feel weight pressed against you, it was slightly uncomfortable, and your eyes threatened to open to wake you up from the strange dream you were currently having.

“shh, shh.” you were dreaming of a man, your brain was telling you. “you’re dreaming.” the man — or was it your own brain that was telling you? you can’t tell, so you just listened and you relaxed yourself. “good girl,” you feel a kiss against your hair, it was soothing. this man sounded so familiar.

“i missed you.” the man says as one hand – the one that was holding your wrist – slid towards your front. he gently caressed your collarbone with his fingers, going down to your breasts, he palmed it ever so softly. “gege?” you mumbled in your sleep, and the figure once again pressed against your back, “shh. shh, it’s just me, y/n. gege’s here.” he whispered, and your body relaxed. you didn’t notice nor feel that a single tear had slipped from your closed eyes, but he did.

leaning down, he kissed the tear away, then the stain it left on the edge of your eye. “i’m here.” he whispered gently, and your heartbeat calmed again. perhaps it was the sense of longing that you’ve ignored ever since the explosion. and this dream you were currently having was able to let your deepest thoughts roam free.

“i missed you.” he repeated, going down to kiss the part of your neck that was slightly exposed. “i’ll come back for you, y/n. but for now, i need you. can you give me what i want? can you give me what gege wants?” he asked, his words a whisper but his voice husky with need. “mm…” you hummed in agreement, or it was agreement enough for him.

his hand that had been touching your breasts, now perky and sensitive, moved further down to your abdomen. his hips grinded against the soft flesh of your ass. “i missed you.” he grew desperate with each grind, humping against you like a needy puppy.

he turned you around, your dress too bothersome for him so he’d just rip it off. he kissed your neck once more, biting onto your skin and sucking it roughly making you cry out a whine and leaving a love mark on your delicate skin.

he goes further down to your breasts, his hands pulling your bra down and his lips immediately latched onto your nipple, he flicked it with his cold tongue, and when you arched your back, he bit on it. he felt a sense of triumph when he earned a whine from you. he kissed the side of your breast, his free hand used to unbuckle and unzip his own pants.

“you would look so good if you were pregnant.” he said a low growl, “your breasts would constantly be round and perky and sensitive.” he moaned at the thought. his kisses grows more desperate as he imagined you all round carrying his babies. he watched as your hand absentmindedly moved towards the other breast, rubbing on the bud as if to tell him you felt neglected. “mm? you’ve always been a greedy little thing.” he groaned as he put his hand on top of yours, guiding you on touching yourself.

as he finally sprung his own cock free, he couldn’t help but groan. his dominant hand travelled down to pump his cock a few times, enough for pre-cum to ooze out, he used it as lube even though it was hardly enough. “you’re fully asleep, but you’re moaning.” he mumbled to himself, “are you dreaming of us, y/n?” he whispered in your ear, kissing the skin below your ear.

“dreaming of gege?” he added, his teeth grazed over the shell of your ear so you could hear him moaning, his hand squeezing his own cock at the thought of you having a wet dream for him. he grunted, a quiet fuck leaving his lips.

“touch me here.” he said as he brought your hand onto his cock, his hand guiding yours just as he did with your breast. “i want you to touch me, sweetheart.” he ordered so sweetly. you were still asleep in all of this, so your grip wasn’t as strong as he’d hoped. no matter, though. he can let it slide this once. after all, this won’t be the only time you’ll do this. this is merely the first of many.

“that’s right, baby. fuck, your hand is so soft, baby.” his voice was almost whiny as he relished in the way both his and your hands were pumping his cock. he glanced at your sleeping face, the way your cheeks was slightly flushed, and how breathless you’ve become. you liked this. a victorious smirk was plastered on his face.

he bent down to your core, it wasn’t nearly as wet as he’d hoped, but he only had a few minutes before he had to leave. he stuck his tongue out and pressed it flat against your folds, as he dragged it up to your clit. he flicked it once, twice, with his tongue, then pressed his enveloped his lips on it, sucking on the bundle of nerves.

“hng… ah!” the loud gasp almost made him stop. almost. but he was quite confident on the drowsy medicine he had slipped into your glass moments ago. you won’t wake up — at least, the sensation of getting your pussy eaten wasn’t gonna be enough to wake you up.

his tongue slid back down to your folds, and his nose pressed against your clit. “hmm, fuck. you smell so good, honey.” he cursed, his tongue lapping at your walls like a starving man. he pushed his tongue between your pussy lips, his fingers going down to hold them apart. he didn’t mind if he had to fuck you with his tongue first, patience is virtue after all.

“you taste so good. you have no idea how long i’ve imagined you like this.” he murmured, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers down your spine. his nose continuously poked against your clit, your eyebrows furrowed and your back arched again as you kept moaning in your sleep.

when he felt your walls tightening against his tongue, he pulled away from your cunt. “wha…” you whined in your sleep once more. he looked at you and chuckled lowly. “always so greedy.” he caressed your face.

he leaned down to your face, “this is gonna hurt a little, but i know you’d like it, won’t you, sweet girl?” he chuckled again, positioning his cock against your pussy, he rubbed it against you first, moaning your name as he did so. “ready?” he asked, his lips now wet with your slick went down to kiss your neck again. “oh,” he moaned as he pushed his tip into you. it seemed like he had underestimated you – you were squeezing him, as if you didn’t want to let him go.

“you feel so good, honey. oh… you’re clenching around my cock, baby. you like that?” he grunted, he gave you a few small thrusts first, before properly fucking you.

he looked down at you, his hand going back to rub one of your nipples, and he leaned towards your lips. he was inches apart, his breath ghosting against your skin. but alas, he pulled away. he can’t kiss you, not like this.

he looked down to watch the way his cock would slide in and out of you, his thumb pressing against your swollen clit, making you gush. “hah…” you panted in your sleep, sweat dripping down your forehead. “Gege…” you moaned just under your breath. a smirk formed on his lips, he took pride in the fact that even in your sleep, you’d imagine him fuck you.

“how long have you been having wet dreams about me, y/n?” he asked, but was met with no answers.

but his smile faded as soon as it came, as if a hint of dissatisfaction had come washing down on him. he pulled his cock out, leaving just the tip just barely kissing the entrance of your pussy, before slamming all of it at once. your body jolted in surprise and your eyes barely opened. “w-wh…��� you mumbled as he gripped your chin. “it’s just a dream.” he whispered as he continued to slam his cock all the way in and all the way out. “you’re having a perverted dream about your childhood friend fucking you full of his cock, okay?” he said, and you nodded slightly, your eyelids too heavy to keep yourself awake.

“gege…” you murmured, he frowned as he eyes narrowed. the fingers that was rubbing on your clit pinched on it hard, watching as you writhed in pain. “don’t call me that anymore. i was never your brother.” he knew it was like talking to a wall, since you’re not actually awake, but he didn’t care.

he continued to thrust in and out of you, watching with satisfaction how your pussy had become red and swollen. he picked up the pace as he lifted one of your legs up to his shoulder, his lips kissing the skin of your inner thigh as he chased his own high.

the man gave himself a few more thrusts before pulling out. as the stimulation stopped, so did the desire for an orgasm. he wasn’t gonna come, no. not like this. good things comes to those who wait. and he will wait. he caressed your face, pulling his pants back up, he watched as you whined in your sleep, your pussy clenching around nothing. “i’ve gotta go, baby. we’ll meet again very soon.” he promised.

a few hours later, you finally woke up. the sun was already shining by the time you opened your eyes. your body felt a little sore but that was probably because you had been sleeping uncomfortably. you tried to recall what you dreamed of, and you felt a little guilty. you knew it wasn’t something you can’t control, but why would you have a wet dream about caleb? your deceased childhood friend. you thought of it as messed up, and you figured that you should probably visit his grave and apologise.

as you finally forced yourself out of bed, you frowned at the idea of having to clean your entire apartment, but you can’t live in this dumpster forever.

you straightened your shirt and walked towards your bathroom, but something felt off. were you really wearing this shirt to bed last night?

[ill0usainte]

Mooooooreee.

pairings: husband!caleb x wife!reader

cw: lactation kink, tits sucking, nipple play, based on this request

If someone were to ask Caleb if ass or tits---he would say neither. Because, personality is more important to him. But, if someone would ask him on a deeper level---he'd pick tits. All the way, no hesitation.

One thing that arouses him the most about you, is how big your tits have become ever since the birth of your baby. He can't help it, it's so plump and tender---makes him want to take a bite out of it. It sits so perfectly behind your clothes and by any chance he'd even get a glimpse of your perked tits spilling whenever you breastfeed your baby. Sometimes, while breastfeeding your baby you'll catch him stealing glances at you and if you ask him if there's something wrong he'd tell you "nothing." While pretending to be busy with whatever.

And during sex, it surprises you that the first thing he targets with his mouth is your tits. When I say this man is impatient---he damn is. Just right after he has you sitting over his lap---his hands roam every part of your body. Mostly targeting your tits, perked nipples bulging against the top you're wearing. His hand reached out and gently squeezed it as he watches the fabric of the top getting soaked with your breast milk leaving a wet patch---the sight sends arousal through his clothed hardened cock.

You can't help but let out a soft moan when he does that, feeling something hard poke your clothed pussy under. You felt your aching pussy throb, getting your lacy panties wet---poor you, It's only been two months after the birth of your baby. And now both of you are starting to go back in track of fucking. Before you could even say something, your husband is already pulling your top up---revealing your plumped tits in display. His eyes screamed hunger as he licked his lips like a hungry man---staring down the strip of milk dripping from your perked nipples.

"Honey- ah-!" You haven't even finished your sentence and his mouth quickly latched onto your nipple. Burying his face against your plumped tits as he sucked and massaged the other one with his hand---rubbing and pinching your sensitive nipple causing it to let out milky liquid as it drips down. As a result, you let out soft moans and whimper, careful not to get loud because your baby is sleeping in the next room. Your hands soothe his black locks while you try to push him away from you, but he just wouldn't budge.

This hits different for Caleb, because this is no ordinary tits sucking he always does whenever you two have sex. Yes, he does suck your tits all the time---but now it's different, it's the fact that this is after your pregnancy. The fact that you're able to produce milk. But it doesn't mean he doesn't love to fundle and latch your tits before your pregnancy. Just milk. Milk.

He lets out a grunt in response as he opens his eyes--maintaing eye contact with you while he sucks onto your tit hungrily, he's shameless. He sucks your tit like there's no tomorrow, hot tongue swirling around your sensitive bud earning a twitch from your body. His eyes are filled with lust, savoring the hot milky liquid against his tongue as he swallowed it. Sweet and milky flavor hitting his tongue and he can't help but whimper, yours just hit different than those store-bought milk you both always buy. He always wants to drink one straight from the source. You.

You mutter him to stop but at the same time your pussy says otherwise---feeling your hips grind against his hardened bulge against his pants. Caleb lets out a soft moan, as he pulls away from your tit--earning a loud 'pop!'. He pursed his lips and hugs your waist with his muscular arms. Then, buried his face between your plumped tits making his cheeks squished against as he lifted his head up. Oh he's one pouty husband, making you sigh as he gives you puppy eyes while having a strip of your milk dripping on the side of his lips.

"I want more...please?"

Before your baby was born, he was your baby first:(

masterlist

[moongirlcleo]

Behind Locked Doors

Tags: College Academy AU, Seven Minutes in Heaven, Closet Sex, Aftercare, Mutual Pining, Childhood friends to lovers, Betting Pool, Happy Ending, Crack, Fluff and Smut AN: Check out all of my works on AO3! -> | link

🔞NSFW content - Minors DNI 🔞 Dividers: @cafekitsune Fic: @moongirlcleo

A college academy party. A few too many drinks. And one very bold game of Truth or Dare.

You and Caleb have always been close—friends since childhood, growing up together, and maybe, just maybe, something more. At least, that’s what Patrick seems to think when he shoves the two of you into a closet for Seven Minutes in Heaven. It’s all fun and games… until you both realize just how much you’ve been holding back.

Seven minutes? Not nearly enough.

The common room buzzed with an easygoing energy, full of laughter from old friends who'd weathered storms together. It was a rare celebration at Deepspace Aviation Academy, thrown by the graduating class where no one worried about schedules or debriefs. Caleb had invited you and Tara to this weekend party in Skyhaven, and you couldn't resist the chance to see him again.

You stood near the bar, idly running a finger along the rim of your glass, letting your eyes flick over the scene. Patrick was deep in conversation with another pilot, hands animated as he explained something undoubtedly flight-related. Timothy was engaged in a betting game with a few mechanics, exchanging cocky smirks and easy credits. And then there was Caleb—

His laugh rang out over the room, easy and uninhibited as he slung an arm around one of his squadmates, shaking his head at whatever nonsense had just been said. He was still the same Caleb you had known since your childhood—steadfast, warm, effortlessly charismatic.

And yet, something about him felt different tonight. Or maybe that was just you.

It wasn’t that you’d never noticed him before—of course you had. He’d been one of your closest friends, your anchor in more ways than one. But lately, there had been moments, small and fleeting, where the air between you felt charged. A glance held a second too long. The brush of his fingers when he handed you something. The way his smile softened just a little more when it was directed at you.

You hadn’t allowed yourself to think too much about it. Because if you did—if you acknowledged that maybe, just maybe, there was something there—you might not be able to ignore it anymore.

You’d known Caleb since scraped knees and stolen sweets, since racing each other across sun-drenched fields and climbing too-high fences just because he dared you to. He was always a step ahead—faster, bolder, never afraid to leap before looking. And you? You were right behind him, following his reckless lead, because that’s just how it had always been.

Growing up together meant knowing him better than most people ever would. You knew the way his grin tilted when he was up to something, the way his brows furrowed when he was deep in thought, the way he always—always—kept an eye on you, even when you pretended not to notice.

But there were things you hadn’t seen back then.

Like the way his gaze lingered when you weren’t looking. The way his teasing always felt just a little too careful, as if he was trying to keep from saying something he couldn’t take back. The way, over the years, his hand always found the small of your back, guiding you through crowds, protective without ever needing to say it.

You had always been his person. And maybe, just maybe, he had always been yours.

But neither of you ever said it.

"Alright, listen up, people!" Patrick clapped his hands together, standing on the edge of the lounge area with the kind of mischievous energy that made you instinctively wary. "We need to spice up the night."

A chorus of groans and amused sighs rippled through the group, but nobody actually stopped him.

"Truth or Dare," he announced, a grin creeping onto his face. "Classic, right? A little nostalgia never hurt anyone."

Timothy was the first to cheer in agreement, already eager to cause chaos. Others followed, some reluctantly, some with amusement, but nobody outright refused.

You took a slow sip of your drink. This is going to be a mess.

At first, the dares were all in good fun—Timothy had to send a ridiculous voice message to a superior officer, Patrick had to recite the Academy Code while doing a handstand, and even the normally-reserved Gideon got roped into taking a shot without making a face (he failed, naturally).

It was just a game. A silly, familiar game.

Until Patrick turned to you.

His eyes sparkled with something unreadable. “Alright, you. Truth or dare?”

You opened your mouth, instinctively ready to pick the safer option—truth, obviously—but before you could, a voice chimed in.

"Dare," Caleb said.

Your head snapped toward him.

There was nothing particularly suggestive about the way he said it, no teasing lilt to his tone, but there was a quiet certainty in his voice that made your pulse stutter.

Patrick beamed.

"Perfect," he hummed, barely missing a beat. "You and Caleb—Seven Minutes in Heaven."

The room reacted. Whistles, laughter, someone (probably Tara) dramatically gasping. Caleb merely huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head, but he wasn’t protesting.

Your stomach did something strange. “That’s a little childish, don’t you think?”

Patrick shrugged, all innocence. “Nostalgia night, remember? You gotta follow the rules.”

You glanced at Caleb, expecting at least some resistance, but he just smiled—casual, relaxed, as if this was just another dare, no different from any other.

Except it was different. You felt it.

"Well?" Patrick raised a brow. "You gonna back out?"

Backing out meant drawing more attention to it. Backing out meant making it a thing. And if Caleb wasn’t overthinking it, why should you?

You sighed, setting your drink down. "Fine."

The group cheered as you and Caleb were herded toward a nearby supply closet, Patrick pushing the door open with way too much enthusiasm. It wasn’t large, but it was enough—enough for two people, enough to be alone.

"You guys be good in there," Patrick teased, winking before shutting the door behind you.

The lock clicked.

And then—silence.

You exhaled slowly, pressing your back against the wall, trying to steady your heartbeat. Seven minutes. That’s all this was.

Across from you, Caleb shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. His expression was unreadable, a far cry from the usual easy grins.

Seven minutes.

You swallowed.

Seven minutes had never felt so long.

The closet was just small enough that every shift, every breath, every slight movement was noticeable. Your back pressed against the metal paneling, the faint scent of aviation fuel and old flight manuals filling the space. The air between you and Caleb was warm, thick—not from lack of oxygen, but from something much, much heavier.

You cleared your throat, forcing a casual tone. “So, uh... what exactly are we supposed to be doing in here?”

Caleb huffed a quiet laugh, crossing his arms over his broad chest. The movement made the fabric of his shirt pull just enough to highlight the muscle underneath. Unfair.

“Well,” he drawled, eyes glinting with amusement, “traditionally, I think we’re supposed to make out.”

You scoffed, but your stomach flipped hard. “Traditionally? That’s a childish thing.”

“Yeah, but the game’s called Seven Minutes in Heaven,” he countered, shifting slightly. The space was tight enough that when he moved, he got closer, just a fraction. “Not Seven Minutes of Staring at Each Other Awkwardly.”

You bit your lip, pretending to consider. “You make a compelling argument.”

“Right?” His grin was easy, teasing. But there was something else lurking beneath it—something softer, something more cautious. As if he was waiting for you to set the pace.

It was classic Caleb. He might have been bold in battle, charging headfirst on flight paths, but when it came to you, he was always careful. Like he’d rather die than risk making you uncomfortable.

That thought made something warm curl low in your stomach.

You tapped a finger against your chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “We could just sit here and talk. Catch up.”

Caleb smirked. “Yeah? You wanna talk inches away from my face in a dark closet while my friends wait for us to come out looking disheveled?”

Your lips twitched. “You got a better idea?”

“Oh, plenty,” he murmured, and suddenly, suddenly, you were hyper-aware of how close he really was.

He wasn’t touching you—not yet—but you could feel him. His warmth, his presence, the way his voice dipped just a little lower, turning the game into something a little less playful.

And you? You didn’t want to laugh it off.

You let out a slow breath, tilting your head. “Alright, big shot,” you teased, voice softer now. “If we’re playing by the rules… why don’t you make a move?”

Caleb was done hesitating.

His grip on your thighs tightened as he pressed you harder against the wall of the closet, his hips slotting perfectly against yours. You could feel him—solid, hot, unmistakably interested—and the realization sent a pulse of heat straight through you.

You let out a quiet, shuddering breath. "Caleb—"

The moment his name left your lips, something in him snapped.

His mouth crashed against yours, no second-guessing, just pure, pent-up want. He kissed you like he was starving, like he’d been holding back for years, and now that he had you here, pressed up against him, wrapped around him, he wasn’t wasting a single second.

His tongue slid against yours, slow but firm, coaxing a desperate little moan from your throat before you could stop it. The sound made his grip tremble—like he was using every ounce of willpower to keep himself in check.

You, on the other hand? You had no such restraint.

Your hands fisted in his uniform shirt, yanking him closer, pressing your hips forward just enough to get the friction you needed. The sharp inhale he took was rewarding—so much so that you did it again, rolling against him just slightly, testing.

Caleb growled.

His fingers dug into your thighs, dragging you down against him properly, making sure you felt him. "You play dirty," he murmured against your lips, but there was no real complaint, just a teasing sort of approval.

You smirked, breathless. "You like it."

His response was a sharp nip to your bottom lip, followed by a deep, rolling grind of his hips against yours. You gasped, hands tightening in his hair as sparks shot through your veins.

"I love it," he corrected.

His mouth moved down, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down the column of your throat. He savored the way you squirmed, how your fingers curled against the back of his neck, how your thighs clenched tighter around his waist with every teasing graze of his teeth against your skin.

"Caleb—"

He shushed you with another slow grind, making you whimper. "Shh, pipsqueak," he murmured, voice rough, hot against your pulse. "You wouldn’t wanna let Patrick and the others hear you, would you?"

It was cruel, the way he asked—low, teasing, edged with something dark and thrilled at the idea of getting away with this while half the academy was just beyond his door.

You swallowed thickly, chest heaving. "You’re awful."

Caleb chuckled against your skin, warm and wicked. "Nah," he countered, giving your thigh a playful squeeze. "I’m just makin’ sure we play by the rules."

He let out a low, rough chuckle, dragging his lips down your throat, your collarbone, as his hands slid further up your thighs, thumbs brushing the edge of your underwear. His grip was firm, his fingers pressing possessively into the soft skin of your legs as he lifted you higher, positioning you exactly where he wanted.

The friction was torturous, enough to make your thighs squeeze around his waist, enough to pull a sharp, wanting gasp from your lips.

He groaned at the sound, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he rolled his hips again, slow, deliberate, making you feel just how much he wanted you.

"Fuck," he rasped, barely keeping himself together. "You feel so damn good."

You whimpered, fingers threading tighter into his hair, tugging just to hear that desperate little growl again.

Then, with a smirk, you tilted your head, lips brushing against his ear. "So, Caleb..." you purred, voice dripping with challenge. "Are you gonna do something about it?"

His breath hitched, grip tightening—and just like that, the last thread of restraint snapped.

Caleb crashed his lips against yours again, hungrier, needier, pressing you so hard against the wall that you swore you could feel it vibrate. His hands roamed, dragging up your thighs, gripping the fabric of your underwear like he was seconds from tearing them clean off—

And then, just as his fingers hooked into the waistband—

A loud, teasing knock on the door shattered the moment.

"Times up, lovebirds!" Patrick’s sing-song voice rang out, full of mischief. "Hope you two had fun in there~!"

Caleb froze, forehead dropping against your shoulder as he let out a long, deep groan—this one purely of frustration.

You let out a breathless, wrecked little laugh, hands still tangled in his hair, still aching for him. "You have to be kidding me."

Caleb exhaled, then lifted his head, eyes dark, lips swollen, body still pressed hard against yours, as his hand fell to your thigh.

He smirked, but it was dangerous.

Caleb didn’t move. Didn’t even acknowledge Patrick’s taunting voice on the other side of the door.

Neither did you.

Because in the heat of it all, in the way his breath ghosted over your lips, the way his hands still gripped your thighs like he wasn’t ready to let go—there was no way in hell either of you were stopping now.

Patrick could wait.

You arched against him, fingers tightening in his hair, dragging his mouth back down to yours in a searing kiss—one that made it perfectly clear you had no intention of leaving this room any time soon.

Caleb groaned into it, deep and rough, pressing you harder into the wall as his hands roamed—gripping, pulling, claiming like he was making up for every second you’d spent dancing around this, for every moment wasted not doing this sooner.

Patrick knocked again, louder this time. "Helloooo? Are you guys alive in there? Or just— are you actually—?!"

"Busy," Caleb growled, voice low, gravelly as he tore his lips from yours just long enough to shout back. "Go away."

You bit back a breathless laugh, but it turned into a sharp gasp when he rolled his hips against yours, the slow, teasing drag of his hard length making your head spin.

Patrick snorted. "Busy, huh? Ohhh, I knew it." His voice was full of mischief, but he didn’t knock again.

Didn’t matter.

Because you weren’t listening.

You were too lost in the feeling of Caleb’s hands slipping beneath the hem of your dress, fingers grazing against the sensitive skin of your thighs.

"You sure?" he murmured, voice thick with restraint, with the barely held-back need burning in his eyes.

You didn’t hesitate. "I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life."

That was all he needed.

Caleb smirked, tilting his head slightly. “You in a rush to get out of here?”

You swallowed, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt. “Not exactly.”

His grip on you flexed slightly before he moved, backing you against the wooden panels of the closet, pressing just enough of his weight against you to make your breath hitch. His knee slid between your thighs, parting them just slightly, not enough to satisfy, but enough to make your skin prickle with heat.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips ghosting along the corner of your mouth. “Because I don’t think I’m done with you.”

The kiss was slow, deliberate—Caleb taking his time as if savoring something he’d been waiting for too damn long to have. His lips were soft but insistent, drawing a quiet gasp from you when he deepened it, pressing you further against the wall with an almost lazy kind of dominance.

His hands wandered, one slipping beneath the hem of your top, fingertips ghosting up your spine in a way that had your stomach tightening. The other drifted lower, teasing over your hip, fingers grazing just below your waistband before retreating yet again, as if daring you to ask for more.

You arched into him, impatience curling in your gut. “Tease,” you breathed against his mouth.

Caleb chuckled, low and full of promise. “I like watching you get all worked up, pipsqueak.” His lips trailed lower, down the curve of your jaw, to the sensitive spot just below your ear, where he nipped lightly before soothing it with his tongue. “Besides,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick, “we’ve got seven minutes, right?”

You barely bit back a laugh, but it turned into a sharp inhale when his hand finally moved lower, palming over the heat between your thighs.

“We’re already over time, and you know it,” you managed, trying to keep some semblance of control despite the way your knees nearly buckled.

With one sharp tug, your panties were gone, slipped down your thighs and tossed somewhere behind him. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him, the press of his clothed length against your bare core making you moan into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Caleb breathed, dragging his lips down your throat, sucking lightly at your pulse point as he worked his pants open with one hand. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, needing more. “Then stop waiting, Caleb.”

His breath hitched.

Caleb groaned, deep and needy, the sound vibrating against your throat as he finally freed himself from his pants. His cock, thick and aching, pressed hot against your bare core, teasing, tempting—making you feel just how much he wanted this.

Wanted you.

His fingers dug into your hips, restraining himself even as he rocked against you, letting you feel the heavy, solid weight of him. “Fuck, you’re so warm,” he rasped, his forehead pressing to yours, his breath fanning over your lips. “Been dreamin’ about this for years.”

Your nails raked down his arms, feeling the ripple of muscle beneath his skin, the tension he was barely holding back. It sent heat coiling low in your belly, made you throb for him.

“Then don’t make me wait any longer,” you murmured, reaching between you, wrapping your fingers around him, feeling the silky heat of his cock as you guided him to where you needed him most.

Caleb shuddered, his grip tightening, and then—

He pushed in.

A sharp gasp tore from your lips as he stretched you, slow and deliberate, giving you just enough time to adjust to the size of him, the sheer, delicious burn of him sinking deeper.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his forehead pressing into your shoulder as he bottomed out, your walls squeezing around him. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

You clenched around him, making him curse under his breath, his fingers tightening their grip. “So do you,” you whispered, tilting his chin up so his gaze met yours, lidded, hungry. “So move.”

That snapped something in him.

With a low growl, Caleb snapped his hips forward, setting a slow, deep rhythm, making sure you felt every thick, delicious inch of him with every thrust.

You gasped, nails raking down his back, thighs tightening around his waist.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, letting your head fall back against the door as he moved inside you, hitting spots that made your toes curl. “Caleb—”

His teeth sank into your neck, his breath hot, shaky. “Say my name like that again,” he rasped, rolling his hips, dragging another helpless moan from you. “Say it just like that, baby.”

You did.

Over and over.

Caleb's pace turned ruthless, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, anchoring you to him as he slammed into you. The air in the tiny closet was thick, sweltering, filled with the obscene sounds of skin meeting skin, of your breathless moans and his deep, needy groans.

“Fuck, baby,” he gritted, his forehead pressing against yours, sweat dripping down his temple. “You’re squeezin’ me so damn tight—gonna make me lose my mind.”

You were already losing yours.

The way he stretched you, filled you completely, the way every roll of his hips hit that devastating spot inside you—it was overwhelming, intoxicating. Your nails raked down his back, desperate, pleading, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

And maybe he was.

“Caleb—fuck—I’m so close,” you gasped, your body tightening, trembling, your toes curling as pleasure coiled low in your stomach, tightening, building.

His jaw clenched, his thrusts turning erratic, more desperate, more needy. “I got you, baby,” he rasped, slipping a hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing tight, perfect circles. “Come for me—wanna feel you come all over my cock.”

That was all it took.

Pleasure exploded through you, hot and blinding, crashing over you in waves so powerful you swore you saw stars. Your walls clenched around him, hard and tight, and Caleb snapped, his groan raw, wrecked, as he thrust deep one last time, filling you with everything he had.

His body trembled against yours, his breath coming out in heavy, shaky pants as he slumped forward, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your throat, anywhere he could reach.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, laughing, dazed, pressing his forehead to yours. “That was—”

“Yeah,” you whispered, equally breathless, equally wrecked. “It was.”

The knock on the closet door came again, louder, impatient.

“Seriously?!” Patrick’s voice practically groaned through the wood. “I know you guys just fucked, but we are literally at the academy! Open the damn door already!”

Caleb groaned, burying his face in your shoulder. “We are never livin’ this down.”

You giggled, pressing a soft kiss to his temple, still buzzing from the high. “Nope,” you agreed, smiling against his skin. “But hey… at least we finally stopped dancing around this, huh?”

He lifted his head, looking at you with something warm, something fond, something dangerous brewing behind those stormy violet eyes.

“Yeah,” he murmured, brushing his lips over yours in a slow, teasing kiss.

“We definitely did.”

The charged air between you and Caleb had finally settled, leaving nothing but the soft echoes of your breaths and the lingering heat of what had just happened. The space around you was still dark, still cramped, the scent of him—woodsy, clean, with a faint trace of jet fuel—filling the tiny closet.

Your legs still trembled slightly where they straddled his lap, your forehead resting against his as you both tried to catch your breath. Caleb's hands, once gripping you like he couldn’t get enough, now traced slow, soothing circles along your hips, grounding you.

“You okay?” he murmured, voice rougher than usual, but laced with something softer.

You exhaled a slow, satisfied sigh, letting your fingers trail along the back of his neck. “Yeah. Just… wow.”

That cocky smirk of his made a reappearance, but it was gentler this time, more fond than teasing. “Yeah?” His nose brushed against yours as he leaned in, pressing the faintest kiss to your cheek, then another to your jaw. “Didn’t push too much, did I?”

You shook your head, letting your weight sink against him, completely content in the way he held you. “No, you were perfect.”

Caleb hummed, running a hand down your back before reaching for something behind you. In his hands was a discarded jacket that must’ve fallen from one of the coathangers when you’d gotten pushed inside. With careful movements, he slipped it over your shoulders, tucking you into the worn fabric as if the walls of the closet weren’t already pressing you both together. “Here. Can’t have you going out there looking too wrecked, now can I.”

You snorted, nuzzling into his chest. “Oh, please. They’re going to be insufferable either way by the sound of Patrick’s voice.”

He chuckled, fingers threading lazily through your hair. “Yeah, but at least I can pretend I left you with some dignity.”

You smirked against his shirt. “How thoughtful of you.”

A few moments passed in comfortable silence, the distant chatter from the party still going strong just beyond the closet door. Caleb’s fingers idly trailed along your arm, his touch light, reassuring. “You wanna go out there yet, or…?”

You tilted your head up, meeting his gaze, eyes gleaming with mischief despite the spent, satisfied haze in them. “What, you want round two in here, flyboy?”

His grin turned downright wolfish. “Tempting.” He leaned in, brushing his lips over yours again, slow, savoring. “But I think I’d rather take my time when we don’t have half our friends waiting outside, ears pressed to the door.”

You sighed dramatically. “So considerate.”

He gave your thigh a playful squeeze before shifting beneath you, sighing. “Alright, pipsqueak, you ready to face the wolves?”

You let out a groan, already dreading the inevitable teasing, but gave a nod as you took your panties from his outstretched arm.

“Let’s get this over with.”

The moment you and Caleb stepped out of the closet, the common area of the academy dorm erupted.

A chorus of whistles, cheers, and over-the-top applause filled the air, drowning out the hum of music still playing in the background. Drinks sloshed over the rims of glasses as your so-called friends—traitorous and utterly entertained—howled with laughter at what they had just witnessed. Well, heard, really.

Patrick was the first to greet you, grinning like he had just won the jackpot. “Damn, Wings, that was some first-class fucking in there,” he teased, elbowing Caleb hard in the ribs. “The whole common room heard you two trying to ‘navigate the landing.’”

Your stomach dropped, face burning instantly. “Oh my god—”

Caleb, the menace, didn’t even flinch. He just chuckled, rolling his shoulders back as if he hadn’t just been thoroughly railing you in a closet like some reckless cadet. His lavender eyes gleamed with mischief. “What can I say? I’m a hands-on kind of pilot.”

The crowd groaned at his shameless delivery, but it only made him smirk wider.

“You weren’t even trying to be quiet,” another voice—Oliver—piped up from the couch, sprawled out like he owned the place. “I mean, come on. We gave you seven minutes, and you give us the entire x-rated flick?”

“I should’ve recorded it,” Thomas added, sighing. “A missed opportunity for paypack.”

You smacked your hands over your face, wishing the ground would just swallow you whole. Caleb, however, was still far too relaxed, one hand casually resting on his hip while the other brushed against your lower back, fingers barely grazing your skin—a quiet, private reminder that he was still right there.

Across the room, Tara, ever the voice of reason, simply shook her head as she swirled her drink. “You two have been dancing around each other for years. You do realize that, right?”

Silence fell over the group.

Everyone’s eyes snapped toward you and Caleb.

The air between you thickened, the weight of the moment pressing down. Caleb’s smirk hadn’t faded, but his expression had shifted slightly—softer now, more deliberate. His fingers at your back pressed just a little firmer as he tilted his head, stormy eyes watching you with quiet amusement.

“Well?” he mused, voice low, teasing. “Think we should make it official, pipsqueak?”

Your stomach flipped.

You wanted to say yes. You wanted to tell everyone that this wasn’t just some heat-of-the-moment game, that Caleb wasn’t just some reckless decision you’d regret in the morning. But before you could speak, Patrick suddenly gasped, dramatic as ever.

“WAIT.” He turned toward the others, his face lighting up. “That means I won the bet!”

A collective groan rose from the group as he threw his hands in the air triumphantly.

“Oh, fuck off, Patrick,” Oliver grumbled.

Thomas threw actual money at him. “I hate you.”

Tara just sighed. “I should’ve known.”

Patrick turned back toward you and Caleb, grinning like the troublemaker he was. “So, for real—are you dating now, or am I just gonna have to keep orchestrating ridiculous excuses for you two to make out in small spaces?”

Caleb chuckled, shifting closer, his voice warm and teasing. “You got a problem with that, pipsqueak?” His fingers squeezed gently at your waist, daring. “Because I was kinda hoping this wasn’t just a one-time thing.”

Your breath hitched, heat curling in your chest.

This man.

This reckless, insufferable, wonderful man.

You exhaled, finally leaning into his hold, letting yourself smirk up at him. “Well,” you murmured, eyes gleaming, “if I say no, you do have a way of convincing me.”

The room erupted again—cheers, jeers, and exaggerated groans—but none of it mattered.

Because in that moment, with Caleb’s arm wrapped around you and that knowing, all-consuming look in his eyes, you knew.

Life was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

[jeffswh0re]

okay so im actually going insane about this

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

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, claim as your own or feed my content to AI learning tools.