#lads caleb x reader smut | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rose-tinted-kalopsia · 1 month ago

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≡;-꒰ 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 & 𝑫𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒔 𝑷𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒐𝒖

── mdni sexual content ; headcanons on how the boys would act with you (afab!reader) when you have a praise kink. inclusive of: praise (obv), pet name usage, dirty talk, teasing, general foreplay, vaginal sex, overstimulation.

featuring : rafayel, sylus, xavier, zayne, caleb, jeremiah, luke, kieran.

an : this was a request i put off a liiittle bit bc i had to think of how i wanted to approach the prompt, but! it was super superrrr fun, and i maybe wrote a little bit more for each of the guys than i intended hehe <3

taglist : under the cut !! (SIGN UP HERE)

KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

ʀᴀꜰᴀʏᴇʟ

praise from rafayel is raw.

undeniably, during the day, there's a little part of him that would be a little shit about it—tease you to wit's end, preying on your little praise kink like it's a shiny little pearl he's found for him to play with. good girl~ here, pretty girl~ there… there'll be a little sing-songy tone to his voice, a teasing lilt, and sometimes it's more than you can take—sometimes you'll snap out of embarrassment, sometimes you'll maybe shove him away, sometimes all you can do is puff your cheeks up and do a little hmph. but really, it doesn't work out very much—"you're such a cutie, miss bodyguard."

but then there's a little switch that flips when the both of you are alone.

because the love that he has for you is overwhelming.

you're more than just a pretty girl, more than just a good girl, more than just the teasing little praises he's been singing all day just to rouse a reaction from you.

you're the love of his life. you're perfect to him.

and he's pounding into you as you writhe and moan beneath him, his hair clinging to his forehead, lips parted in heavy pants… his eyes are heavy-lidded with desire, but there's nothing more obvious in those pretty pretty magenta eyes of his— than how much he truly treasures you. his voice is breathless when he speaks, he doesn't stop the movement of his hips, so lost in drinking in the sight of you splayed on his bed like this—and maybe, all he can say is, "beautiful."

because sometimes, sometimes, he's just not the best with words. maybe he can't bring himself to form a coherent thought anymore but that; how beautiful you are, how ethereal, how perfect. between strings of moans of your name, maybe it's all he can say. but it's pure, and raw, and genuine in every sense of the word, almost like a cry tearing from his chest, because what he really means when he snaps his hips down to yours and fills you up with every last drop of his cum, is—i love you.

ꜱʏʟᴜꜱ

praise from sylus is enough to steal your breath away.

it's unexpected, mostly a surprise—albeit a pleasant one. and it's really not that he wouldn't do it often. it's quite the opposite, in fact; he'd do it often. because he knows. he knows exactly how to get you going, how to rile you up… and it's something that he would capitalize on, since your reactions have always been thoroughly endearing to him as much as they were amusing.

by this, i mean, it doesn't just stay in the bedroom. not at all. it slips into simple, everyday things. and that's why it's so unexpected for you.

after successfully completing a mission, he'd walk over and pull you towards him by the waist: "good job, sweetie." a basic task done in front of him, maybe something as simple as making yourself—or both of you—a meal, and: "what a good girl you are." the back-and-forth bickering you would sometimes have might end with him tapping a finger to his cheek, a little up, a glance of appreciation—"you're adorable when you're excited, sweetie." or maybe sometimes he'd walk up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, lean in to have his lips graze over the shell of your ear… "do you know that i'm quite fond of you? such a good, good girl for me."

he'd chuckle at the stutter in your motions, the flush on your cheeks… and he'd know you're defaulting to thoughts of the bedroom. especially when his voice would dip, all low and sultry, that satisfied, satisfied smirk on his face. 90% of the time, he'd get what he wants—which means you underneath him, fisting the sheets as he ravishes you whole; tongue, and teeth, and fingers… and more. of course, he'd aim for nothing more than to give you pleasure, and he knows how to make it better with just a few added words of praise.

"you're doing well, kitten. that's right, just like that… you make it so easy for me to worship you."

maybe he's conditioned you with it just a little bit.

xᴀᴠɪᴇʀ

xavier's praises are soft, but very direct.

he's not one to cut corners, not when it comes to the way that he sees you. like sylus, it slips into little, everyday things, half with the intention to rile you up, and half to genuinely just say what he's thinking. but as direct as his statements would be, he'd sometimes play a little coy. the irony is never lost with you. and yet, he'd do it anyway. all casual statements, blinks of innocence, smiles that would indicate he had zero idea of the effect he had on you.

you knew otherwise, though.

"you did really well," he'd say after a fight with a wanderer, "all that training really paid off." he'd nod, that familiar little nod that you know so well—to everyone else, it's so completely normal… and to you, it would have been, had the twinkle in his eye not been present, had his touch against your hand not lingered for a little bit longer than usual.

"i like your perfume today, it's nice," is how he greets you in the morning sometimes, with a smile that would have looked completely innocent—it not for the half-step he took closer to you, if not for the little twitch in the corner of his lips, if not for the way he'd reach over to move your hair from your face.

"your dress is pretty. i think it really fits you." a cute little compliment, no? you'd have taken it as such, but you wouldn't have missed the way his eyes would rake over your body, even with the slow, innocent blinks he'd give you afterwards. it doesn't matter that he offers you his hand for you to take, it doesn't matter if he brushes it off like he didn't just have every thought in his head on display for you. because at the end of the day, all of this turns into your fingers intertwined, you pressed up against your pillow, his head buried into the crook of your neck as he pumps his cock into you.

"mmmh… you're so good for me, angel, feel so good, so good…"

a little incoherent, not all that audible, but you can still hear it. he'd nuzzle into your skin, vibrations of his voice sending shivers through your body… there's something in him that doesn't quell him to stop, losing himself in how good you feel, how good you are. "you smell so good… you taste just as good, too, angel… you're so soft, so pretty, so pretty, so pretty, so pretty… nmh, don' want to stop…"

ᴢᴀʏɴᴇ

the way zayne praises you is quiet. gentle.

it's the kind that flows seamlessly into your ear like a soothing little melody… yet, his voice would carry with it a certain level of firmness, indicating that you have no other say in the matter. because he means it—and that's that. it's the kind of praise that's reassuring every time he'd say it, no matter how many times he'd say it. he's your safe haven. he knows how to make you feel better about yourself. insecurities? doubts? worries? gone, immediately. because that's the way it is with him.

it doesn't matter what about you he's praising, nor does it matter when. it's used less as a trigger for your pleasure, and more for him to be unfiltered with you. it doesn't matter if he's seeing you for a dinner date and you're all dressed up, it doesn't matter if he's coming home to you in your pajamas with messy hair and no makeup at all. it doesn't matter if you lose at a little board game the two of you had been playing, it doesn't matter if you'd won nearly half the stall at the carnival that day, doesn't matter if you're on the phone with him and there's a beat of silence as you listen to each others' breathing. it doesn't matter, either, if he's all the way inside of you, slow, rhythmic thrusts, lips attached to your ear—it doesn't matter if his hands had found their way to your chest, fondling and kneading at the soft flesh.

he'll whisper sweet words into your ear, always, whenever he gets the chance.

and at night, he holds you close, hushed words perfectly timed with each and every thrust. they aren't sweet nothings. they're sweet everythings. because he knows that these words are exactly what you need from him, exactly what you need to feel loved, and appreciated, and cared for. with zayne, praise is as genuine and as pure as it gets—sure, he'll cherish the way you whine in response, the whimpers that fall from your lips… he knows that it gives you an extra bit of pleasure, but that's a plus. more than that, he'd never fail to convey how much you mean to him. it's the perfect opportunity for him. just to hold you close, and make love to you like this, quiet, hushed little words of affirmations…

good girl. you take me so well, my love. you feel so good, darling. you're perfect for me.

ᴄᴀʟᴇʙ

praise from caleb is a little infuriating, but it works.

perhaps it's because you're much too used to bickering with him, all these playful little fights about anything under the sun that could usually end up in a fit of giggles—but praise from him comes off a little more like a tease sometimes, a little bit borderlining on mocking. not because he doesn't mean well, but, because… it takes a while for you to realize he's being genuine about it. he probably has to drill it into you himself—repeat it a few times, eyebrow raised, amusedly gauging your reactions. he'd watch you turn from a scoff, to a look of confusion, to the gradual realization that dawns—"caleb!" a gasp of surprise, and maybe you hit his shoulder a little, maybe he has to laugh.

but he means it.

he means it when he calls you beautiful, means it when he says you make him proud. he means it when he tells you how much you mean to him, means it when he tells you that there's no other person he'd rather be around like this, than you.

and he'd look you straight in the eyes when he says it again—repeats it, probably, for the nth time that day, trying to make you understand that it's real.

he repeats it even when he has you sinking into the mattress, pinned down by his weight, legs raised to his shoulder as he fucks himself into you. "yeah, you like that, right, pipsqueak? you're all beautiful like this, taking me so deep… fuck, i can't get enough of you. you're the only one for me, baby." he'd lift a hand to delicately trail down the side of your cheek, and you'd be astonished at the blatant swirl of lust and love settled deep in his eyes—filthy words punctuated with praise; he just can't help himself around you.

"mmm, pretty cunt all wrapped up around me… shit, i love you so damn much, why're you so perfect?" his hips would snap up so roughly, in contrast to the gentle caresses he'd leave over your body, in line with the way he's brought you up to orgasm after orgasm. "you're doing so well, baby, c'mon. you can cum again, just one more f'me…"

ᴊᴇʀᴇᴍɪᴀʜ

jeremiah's praises are a little bit… inconsistent.

not that you never know when you're going to get them, because he does it quite freely—pretty often, mostly whenever he feels like saying nice things about you, which, well… happens to be quite a lot.

but you never know how you're going to get them.

he's big on compliments, always has been. so sometimes it's extremely easy for him to whip out a few words of praise. maybe he saw a flower that reminded him of you. he'd send it over with a sweet letter detailing what you mean to him. or maybe he'd send a simple text, just a little "thinking of you today, princess!" to make you smile. sometimes, he'd give you a little kiss on the cheek, on the nose, say an equally simple "hey, you look beautiful today." or on other days, he'd play a little bit coy, maybe sending a little wink your way after some cheesy compliment disguised as a pickup line—playful, a little bit of a little shit about it, and these are the ones that probably get you the most flustered.

but as much as he prides himself in his way with words—literature lover at heart, poetry lover first before anything… well, sometimes he doesn't have words. not when it comes to you.

because, how can he? sometimes he's too overcome with emotion—the fact that you're here, the fact that you're with him, the fact that he can actually cup your face and look into your eyes and say with conviction that he's finally with the girl he loves more than anything else in the world. even more than flowers. even more than words.

and it's such times that he's more flustered than you. nevermind your praise kink—sometimes he's the one tripping over his words, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly and flushing in embarrassment when the words won't come out right. there's a little less of the nonchalance, the playfulness. he tries to be more serious, but it backfires, because he is serious—about you, about both of you, about your relationship… and about how much he loves you.

so even in intimate moments, your body flush against his; even in the way that he kisses you, so tender and loving and sweet… even when he rolls his hips against yours in a slow, gentle motion, even when he'd make love to you under the dim lights of his bedroom… sometimes, his words just fail him. sometimes all he can do is look into your eyes and breathlessly moan out your name. sometimes he has to dip down and nuzzle into your chest, whining out something incoherent—something like a mushed up string of i love you's if you really listen closely enough.

there's a little less praise to go around.

maybe he'll call you pretty, maybe he'll call you perfect… maybe he'll say a little something about how good you feel, but they're lost and broken into moans, and maybe you're both too into it to really register anything he's saying. because for all that he prides himself with his words, he's really just a little too lost in the feeling of you to bother.

(in the end, it's easier for you to get his praise outside the bedroom…)

ᴋɪᴇʀᴀɴ

praise from kieran is… rare.

he's not used to it; not at all.

part of him maybe thinks he should do it more—well, no, he knows that he probably should, especially when he knows it makes you feel good. he'd admit it to himself that he likes getting you all flustered, enjoys knowing that he has a certain effect on you, that even a simple little praise is enough to give him such a reaction. but words of affirmation aren't particularly his thing, and it just… doesn't happen very often. if it did, it would happen randomly, with nothing too elaborate, maybe even just said in passing—mostly because he doesn't want to draw attention to it. there's a part of him that feels a little bit embarrassed about being so direct with his words like that.

still, it happens nonetheless, sometimes. and when it does happen, it's really truly almost as if there's nothing else you can think of but him. his words. the fact that he's actually really, truly, legitimately praised you.

pretty. just one word. he has you pinned against the wall, something of a knowing smirk visible on his lips as his fingers trace the curve of your jaw and dip lower.

good girl. two words, two fingers dip into your mouth for just a moment… and he's so pleased when you let him. so what else can he do but kiss you? what else can he do but press his body up against yours, feel the way you practically melt against him like this?

he's remembering truly just how much his praise gets to you, and it spurs him to act further—low grunts about how good you feel when he hoists a leg up to his waist so he can slide himself into you, all snug and comfortable in your wet heat... he could praise you for how well you take him, little words about how you're absolutely the best—"mmm you're driving me crazy, angel… just like that. good. fucking. girl."

it's rare, and he doesn't do it often. but maybe, sometimes, when he does start… it's a little bit difficult to stop.

ʟᴜᴋᴇ

one thing to be established is: luke's praises are constant.

they never stop. you hear them so goddamn much. in fact, maybe part of you even feels a little used to it.

it happens nearly all the time, as many times as he can think to—sometimes a little bit teasing, sometimes just to get under your skin a little, sometimes maybe a teeny bit (a lot) obnoxious about it… or, sometimes, in a softer tone, a little more genuine than usual. but the root of it really remains to be that he'll take every little opportunity to throw a compliment your way. especially when he realize it affects you a little more than he originally thought. because the way your heart rate accelerates? the way you'd freeze in place for even just a tiny tiny moment, every single time? even the way your cheeks heat up, maybe sometimes the way your eyes would dart away from him to look at anything else in the room… it gives him pure joy, and it only makes him want to do it more.

"heyy, pretty little miss hunter!" in simple, everyday settings? he'd be so casual about it when he sees you, maybe throwing a little wink your way. the grin on his face would be so telling about how much he just knows. "you look cute today!" or, "that thing you did just now was really cool!" or even just, "what's my pretty girl up to this time, huh?" and it gets your brain blanking in seconds.

but it doesn't compare to the bedroom—a quiet place where he's softer, gentler… where all you can hear are his praises, about anything and everything, hands moving over your body in tender, petting caresses. "your skin's super soft," he'd mumble. "did you use a new shampoo, or something? smells real nice." and he'd dip his head into your neck, lick at the sensitive patch of skin… his hands would slide between your legs, rubbing teasing circles over your clit. "mmm… tastes good… feels good…" he'd dip his finger in, gathering your slick, chuckling at how much there already is— "damn, sunshine, so wet for me? that's what i like to see."

it's a little infuriating, in a sense. he finds every little thing to praise, but… he means it. there's so much of you to praise. it's more than just how well you take his fingers, his tongue, his cock; it's more than just how good you feel or how good you're being for him… it's just, everything. he wants to say what's on his mind with you, and especially behind closed doors? he's got a whole lot of thoughts, and all of them happen to be good things about you.

taglist! @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association @ononpetitecroissant @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @cordidy @oharasmommymilkers00 @rafayelsgf @rafslvr @spotted-salamander @love-and-deepstrays @m2ichaelis @keioxo @theanbitchless

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

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shomatoriashi · 2 months ago

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10/31/24; 06:45pm

{ 18+ drabbles / headcanons }

[ their favorite positions ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel + bonus

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

sylus swore that he lives to see the way your body arches as you ride him, giving him the perfect view of your backside as you planted both hands on the top of his thighs.

your breathy whines of his name makes a surge of desire course through him, with his cock hardening further for you each time it pierces through your silken walls. as you rode him in this position, sylus allows his large hands to grip at your breasts, causing you to cry out to him as you moved even faster against him.

“fuck…” he leans closer to you, making his broad chest meet with your back as he trails heated kisses across your skin. your movements became even more erratic now, with your needy cunt squeezing his shaft tightly, trying to milk him for all he was worth. the squelching sounds of your lovemaking makes sylus grunt in response, biting down against your bare shoulder while he gripped at your waist.

the powerful onychinus leader ends up bouncing you up and down his cock, purposely speeding up your movements as he meets with your hips with his own upwards thrusts.

“s-sy… i’m so close… i-“

you were suddenly cut off when sylus suddenly grips at your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze when his lips slot against yours in a fervent kiss. purposely speeding up his thrusts while he basks in your choked moans and how the tears kept streaming down your face. sylus continues to move your hips up and down his cock before stilling his hips, burying his cock within your slick heat when his cock grows before pumping the rest of his seed deep within your womb.

you end up tossing your head back at the sensation, turning away from his kiss as you cried out to him-

allowing sylus to relish in the way your moans seemed to echo throughout the room, letting everyone know just who you belonged to.

always known as being a man that valued romance above all else, of course zayne enjoyed making love to you in a more traditional position, with your legs spread wide, all while allowing the man to slot himself between them.

zayne swore that nothing felt as good as you did, relishing in the way your walls perfectly sheathed him. with him being so overwhelmed with pleasure, it takes him a herculean effort to keep himself from climaxing so soon.

and you weren’t faring any better.

your breathing becomes labored when you feel zayne hid his face within the curve of your neck, forcing your legs to open wider for him as he thrusts his cock in and out of your aching sex. his thrusts were filled with a desperation as you felt the way his cock seemed to reach even deeper inside of you with each new thrust.

unable to keep up with him, you could only manage to lay back while weakly looking down at where you and your beloved were connected, seeing zayne lazily pulling out his cock until only his tip was settled at your entrance before pistoning his hips back to you, hiding the entirety of his length within your scorching heat-

allowing your walls to grip him each time he came back to you.

“hah… z-zayne…” you were losing all of your senses now, completely focused on the sheer amount of pleasure he was giving you when he keeps fucking you deeper into the sheets, causing your arousal to drip down onto the bed.

the sudden sensation of moisture surrounding him does not go unnoticed by zayne, causing him to quicken his thrusts as he moved in and out of you at an even faster pace.

“c-can’t hold back much longer… please-“ filled with a need that only you could quench, zayne calls out your name, reaching down below to gently pinch at your clit. red hot pleasure was now consuming you, with your back arched against the bed as you released yourself onto zayne’s cock.

when zayne feels the way your juices coat at his cock was when he finally stills his hips, a choked groan escaping from his parted lips as he reaches his climax. you moan at the sensation of his twitching cock filling your womb with his seed, falling back into bed with a content sigh. unable to hold back, zayne leans down to capture your lips, deepening his kiss as you willingly took in everything he had to offer.

after spending hours devouring the honeyed sweetness settled between your legs, ensuring that you would lose count of the sheer amount of times you had released into his awaiting mouth-

xavier would casually grip at both of your legs before tossing them over his shoulders, putting you in a mating press that allowed his eager cock to reach that much deeper inside of you.

with you practically helpless in this position, you were given little choice but to grip at your ruined sheets, allowing xavier to impale his cock deep inside of you over and over again, creating an almost hedonistic friction that you would never get over.

all words were lost the moment xavier kept meeting your hips with his passionate movements, his once sapphire gaze now eclipsed by complete darkness when he leans over to the side to give your ankles a kiss.

seeing him doing something so sensual makes your cunt grip at his cock even tighter in response, making your lover groan as he pressed your body even deeper into the mattress. the way he seemed to press his cock even further inside of you had you seeing stars as your pleasure seemed to increase by a tenfold.

“o-oh my g-god!” tears were streaming down your face now, yet xavier manages to swallow each and every one of your moans by giving you a searing kiss while moving even faster inside of you.

and when you and xavier managed to reach your mutual completion at the same time, the young hunter swore that nothing else gave him such pride than seeing you falling apart so sweetly for him.

despite the millions of times he had been intimate with you-

rafayel swore that he would never get used to how soft you were compared to him.

the young artist would always bask in your sweet moans as he kissed every inch of your skin, making sure that not a single part of you remained untouched or unmarred by his lips.

only when he was satisfied with completely marking you did he finally make his move, allowing your pliant form to lay back in bed as he gripped at one of your legs while kneeling close to you. he placed one of your legs on top of his shoulder, allowing the tip of his cock to trace at your pussy lips before slowly entering inside of you.

you gasp, with your face planted down against the sheets, taking in rafayel’s every movement while crying out to him. everything just felt heightened now, especially after your lemurian lover had taken his time with you, playing with your body like you were his own personal instrument, drawing out pretty moans from your parted lips each time he sank into you.

worshipping your body, rafayel keeps a steady pace when it came to his lovemaking with you. his eyes were shut and furrowed in concentration, trying to hold back from releasing too soon all while relishing in your soft gasps of his name.

and when rafayel would feel the way your walls would suddenly clench around him, he would slowly move out of you, only keeping his tip against your entrance while you whined and clawed at the sheets.

“r-rafe, d-don’t be so mean to me! i-i was so close-“

your whines were quickly cut off when he thrusts back inside of you, keeping your legs spread for him as he moved even faster against you, biting down on his bottom lip harshly when he felt his own release quickly approaching.

rafayel once had plans to savor this moment, to try and draw out this session of intimacy because the end would be so much sweeter-

yet hearing your whines and breathy moans makes him lose all of his inhibitions, choosing instead to work on chasing both of your highs, not minding to initiate a few more rounds with you even after he climaxed as his plans changed from prolonging your lovemaking to now making sure that you wouldn’t be able to walk.

caleb always believed that the right way to make love to his woman was to forever lay beneath her, allowing his beloved to use him as she pleased-

which was exactly what you were doing at this exact moment.

with caleb laid back in bed, he hides his face against the pillow, allowing you to bounce up and down on his cock while you steadied yourself against his broad chest.

he meets your gaze, saying your name in an almost reverent manner when his hands shakily reach up to frame at your face. he watches as your features continues to twist in pleasure, with your thrusts turning sloppier as you worked on stroking his cock with your slick walls.

after a few minutes spent in this position, you began to whine, your movements getting slower and slower. caleb notices the way you were panting and immediately sits up in bed. he gently caresses at your hair while cooing at you, “baby, what’s wrong?”

you whimper and lean into his touch, “c-caleb, getting… tired… n-need you…”

a surge of heat was felt traveling down to his cock, and he needed no further urging from you. the young pilot suddenly pins you to the bed without breaking apart your connection to him, pressing a hungry kiss against your lips all while swallowing your moans before pounding himself in and out of you.

you cry out to him, wrapping both of your legs around his waist as he quickened his pace, the movements becoming so passionate that the bed began to squeak in response.

running on pure instinct now, you focused on reaching your completion together, with you begging caleb not to stop as he continues to impale your cunt over and over again-

and if any of your neighbors had a keen sense of hearing, they would recognize your moans and the way it was heightened along with caleb’s desperate groans of your name.

end notes: too thirsty to care about editing… lmao but i’ll still make changes either way.

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

#sylus smut #sylus x reader #sylus x you #zayne smut #zayne x reader #zayne x you #xavier smut #xavier x reader #xavier x you #rafayel smut #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #caleb smut #caleb x reader #caleb x you #lads smut #lnds smut #l&ds smut #writings 📖

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beneathashadytree · 2 months ago

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CAUGHT AT THE BAR! - TEXTING THE LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MEN

Warnings : sneakiness, implied possessiveness, semi-public (bathroom) sex, voyeurism, cockwarming, lingerie, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : lighthearted smut <3

Additional notes : Now this commission was based off this amazing cosplay on Twitter, and I LOVED the idea and totally ran with it😋 And as you can see, there’s a surprise in for you guys in this one: Caleb was included as per their request! It was a little difficult to write for him since we know next to nothing about him and the way he texts, but here goes nothing🫣

Commissions are open here!

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lalunanymph · 3 months ago

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. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚. STOLE MY HEART (AND MY PANTIES) ♡

✧₊⁺ SUMMARY when your panties go missing like clockwork every wednesday, there's only one possible explanation...

✧₊⁺ WARNINGS fem!reader, panty stealing, jerking off, perv!caleb nation rise up, male masturbation, oral sex, pseudo-stepcest (for like, the first scenes), use of gege, use of mei mei, almost getting caught, semi-public sex, against the wall sex, closet sex, unprotected sex, nipple play, petnames (princess, pipsqueak, beautiful girl), caleb huge cock agenda, repressed emotions, angst if you squint, mdni, 18+, do let me know if i missed any warnings !!

✧₊⁺ DAWN SAYS oh my god here it is.... caleb debut we up!! this was the product of horny from the caleb gc and i have to thank everyone for fuelling this piece with sm thots (no prayers) ily all caleb fawkers <3 writing this took like 5 years from me (dying from the horny) so please enjoy and do let me know what you think <3

✧₊⁺ x/twt

Caleb knew this was wrong.

He knew with every fiber of his being that what he was doing was completely, irrevocably and utterly wrong.

And yet, he couldn't stop himself. It was like an addiction.

You were like an addiction.

It started with one missing pair.

In your defense, work had been pushing you too hard, and whatever spare time you could muster was dedicated to rotting on the couch. You would wave him off whenever he offered to do the laundry with a distracted,

"Sure. Thanks, Caleb."

He didn't mind. Of course, he didn't. If only he could use this chance to get what he wanted—your favorite pair of lacy panties.

It was a gorgeous pair. Black lace, with a little bow in the front, slightly crumpled from being wrapped around your hips all day, and if he really locked in, he swore he could feel the remnants of your body heat still pressed between the lacy crevices.

But, that wasn't the best part.

The best part was the little wet spot right on the innocuous fabric. A spot which he would press his nose into and inhale; flick out his tongue and run it along the seam, swearing he could taste your musk in his mouth.

That's funny, you commented one day, shooting him a look of confusion. Did you see where my underwear went?

And he would shrug, giving you a teasing look. "Maybe the washing machine ate it, Pipsqueak."

You frowned, wondering if he was pulling your leg. A day later, you found it crumpled and still damp in the back of the washing machine, and shrugged. Maybe Caleb forgot about it.

You had no idea how he had wrapped that delicate scrap of last around the base of his cock last night and was jerking off thinking about the face you’d make once he sank balls deep inside of you. How he had his sleep shirt stuck between his teeth, sweat bulleting down his toned chest and forehead, furiously jacking off his raw cock with the little lacy number stuffed in his fist. Imagining it was you—your cries, your moans, your sighs echoing right in his ear as you rode him.

The guilt hit him immediately after that and he tried his best to scrub his seed from your panties, crumpling it up and tossing it into the back of the washing machine like he had forgotten to take it out.

And so, the cycle continued.

Every laundry day, you'd find one pair missing, only to show up inconspicuously in the back of the washing machine. You were starting to see a pattern: this only happened when Caleb was on laundry duty.

You weren't as stupid as he thought you were. And you had to admit, the thought of Caleb taking your panties, doing God knows what he did with them, stirred a curious flicker of heat in your belly.

It was on a random Wednesday night when grandma was out for a dinner that you decided to make your move. You hid behind the pillar as you watched your childhood friend doing laundry, keeping your eyes peeled on his every movement.

Caleb looked good tonight. He had just come back from a gym session, face flushed, muscles swollen and pumped. He was shirtless, bare chest glistening, the military tag with the apple charm you gave him dangling from his neck. A pair of headphones muted him from your silent observations, letting you stalk him in peace.

Like the proverbial forbidden fruit, you couldn't keep your eyes off him. You had no idea what to make of these new... feelings... you've developed for him, but you sure as hell didn't want to waste an opportunity to catch him in the middle of your suspicions.

And, there it was. A flick of his wrist that was quicker than the speed of light thanks to his Evol—but, you caught it all the same.

Your panties flew from the laundry basket and into his sweatpants pocket, where he stuffed his fist inside to jam it down further.

You wanted to call him out, corner him and ask what he was doing with your intimate undergarments.

But, you kept quiet, letting him go about his work.

It was only at night when you gathered the courage to confront him, standing right at the front of his bedroom door. You raised your fist to knock, but to your surprise, the door was cracked ajar, a sliver of light spilling out into the darkened hallway.

Cautiously, you stepped inside his room, immediately hit with the sounds of his low grunts and moans.

With his back to you, Caleb was sitting on the edge of the bed, pumping his cock with something held tightly in his fist. Light as a cat, you slunk into the room, taking him off guard by your sudden appearance by his side.

"Ah!" He squeaked and whipped his head around, looking wildly from the wide open door to your curious expression. "How did you—what did you—why're you here?!"

You pointed at the door with a lazy flick of your wrist. "You left it open, dummy."

His huffs and groans fell on deaf ears as your gaze landed on a familiar scrap of lace in his hand. "I knew it..."

Before he could defend himself, you snatched his fist, dragging it closer to your face as you forced him to reveal the truth to you. To your surprise, he didn't resist, letting you open his clenched fist as his free hand tugged his cock back under the band of his sweatpants. The highpoints of his cheeks were dusted with pink, and honestly looked like he was about to break into tears at your next words.

"I had my suspicions all along... but, this is all I needed to know."

Caleb was breathing hard, his bare chest flushed with shame and embarrassment. He couldn’t look you in the eye, the welling guilt overflowing through his stammers and stuttering words.

"Look, I can explain—I-I... that is to say—it wasn't my intention... I didn't mean to..."

The words tangled in his mouth, losing steam once he realized there was no going back from this. A huge boundary and line had been crossed, and it was going to take more than an apology to get back into your good graces.

He ran a hand through his mused hair, licking his swollen lips. Caleb couldn't fathom what was in your gaze—whether it was disgust, anger or something else entirely.

But, what he couldn’t deny was how your eyes flickered right to the bulge straining in his pants, the dot of pre staining the front from hastily hiding his arousal from your glare.

What is this feeling inside of me? You thought as you slowly approached him, your panties fisted tightly in your hand. Why am I not yelling at him? Or, scolding him?

In fact, why were you looking at him like you wanted him to… continue?

Caleb’s expression morphed from mortification to curiosity, and he gazed at you as you approached him, arms crossed in front of your body. He opened his mouth, intending to say something, when you tossed your lace panties right on the seat of his lap.

“Go on.”

Two words. Caleb’s brain felt like it was malfunctioning.

“What… wh-what do you mean—?” He trailed off, falling mute at the fire dancing behind your eyes. He tried hard not to gape when you sat down next to him, observing him like he was a bug under a microscope, scrutiny heavy in your silence.

Whatever shred of logic he had left disappeared the second you gave him your consent. Caleb slowly tugged down his sweatpants, letting his half-hard cock spring free. He grasped the base of his girth, keeping his gaze locked on yours, gauging your reaction. Your blank face gave nothing away, and he took a deep breath, suddenly wondering if he would be able to perform under pressure… so to speak.

“Touch yourself for me… gege.”

Your sweet tone, coupled with his honorific, made his cock twitch, coming back to life. Caleb gritted his teeth, wanting to stop himself from jacking off, but unable to deny how your command was making him feel.

He was hot all over, goosebumps rising on his skin. Biting back a low moan, he picked up where he left off, his movements a bit stiffer and shy.

Surprising him, you leaned forward, wrapping your palm around his fingers, helping him move his slick fist up and down, increasing the pressure.

“Holy—slow down,” he cursed under his breath, glancing at you with burning, violet eyes. “It’s not some j-joystick, Pipsqueak—mhmph.”

Caleb thought he was hallucinating your lips on his, but when his eyes fluttered shut and your taste permeated your mouth, he was acutely aware of how close you were. You tasted like strawberries, your soft lips drawing him in deeper till he was close to drowning. Ragged gasps and breaths echoed between the space where your mouths were connected by a single strand of spit.

His cheeks were hotter than two suns, stomach doing a flip when he felt you gripping his wrist, quickening his movements.

“So, this is where all my panties went,” you murmured, gaze half-lidded and eyes dark with desire.

Caleb felt like someone had punched him right in the gut when you planted your lips on his throat, sucking your claim onto his skin. He tipped his head back to give you more access to his neck, groaning out your name.

I’m dreaming, he thought. There is no way in hell this is happening.

But, it was. You were here, right in the flesh. Close was never close enough for you when you clambered onto his lap, taking over from his flustered movements to jack him off.

“You’re disgusting, Caleb,” you purred, lips swollen from his kisses.

He gasped when you twisted your wrist, the rough material of your lace panties chafing his cock in the best way.

“Absolutely… repulsive.” You marked each word with heated puffs in the crook of his neck, running your tongue over the ridge of his jaw. “Using your mei mei’s panties like this to get yourself off…”

Caleb gasped at the rough sensation of your tongue on his neck, never expecting you to tease him this boldly.

“That’s not—” he broke off in a whine when you started to slide your thumb over his leaking head. “... shit…” he hissed, eyes rolling into the back of his skull.

“What’d you say?”

“... nothing…” Caleb exhaled shakily, knowing he could do nothing but let you have your way with him.

Circling his sensitive tip with your thumb, you teased him. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you would say.”

But, for all your bravado, the slick pooling in the pair of panties you had on now was hard to ignore. The feeling of Caleb’s hulking, muscular figure trembling underneath your smaller one injected you with a dose of cockiness.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

He hissed when you tugged on his girth, using your other hand to fondle his balls.

Shit. It was one thing to jerk himself off, but another to have the woman he loved doing it.

Caleb wasn’t even phased with the realization, his mind feeling like it was floating a million miles away. Lightheaded and overcome by awe, he thought this moment might’ve been a hallucination conjured up by his desperate wishes.

You, sitting on his lap, looking absolutely delicious and depraved, licking your lips as you milked him towards the biggest orgasm of his life.

His hips moved against his volition, snapping into yours. To his surprise, he felt you grinding down on him, reciprocating his actions. The fighter pilot was holding onto his dear life to not spill all over your hands, batting your insistent digits away, breathing heavily.

“N-no, Pipsqueak, hold on—”

He thought he had finally lost it when you got onto your knees, glancing up at him with wide, doe eyes. You unwrapped your lace panties from his cock like it was a depraved gift bow, tossing the delicate scrap to the ground. Caleb’s lashes brushed his cheekbones as he took in the sight of you on your knees, lips mere inches away from his throbbing cock. In a position he had envisioned you would be in since the first time he understood the meaning of lust.

“Come on,” he murmured, brows knitted. “Stop playing—”

His protests died the second you wrapped your lips around his swollen cockhead, lapping at his precum.

“Shhhiiit,” Caleb exhaled like a deflated tire, resisting the urge to sink his fingers in your hair and fuck your mouth.

While he was taking in the glorious moment of you sucking his dick, his keen ears picked up the sounds of footsteps outside the hallway. In a flash, he twitched his fingers, and his room door went slamming shut.

“... Caleb?”

Josephine’s voice echoed from behind the door. Instead of freezing and getting off his cock like a normal person, you continued to suck him off, bobbing your head up and down his shiny, spit-soaked length. The soft gurgling of your throat taking his cock reached his heated ears and he cursed under his breath, hoping his grandmother of all people couldn’t hear your stupid stunt.

“Uh, yeah, grandma?”

He bit back a moan when he felt your tongue slide across the thick, bulging vein down the side of his cock, leaving whispery kisses over his length. He just about nearly spurted some pre right into your eye when grandma asked him, “Where’s Y/N?” and you unexpectedly deep throated him.

“A-ah, I have no idea!” His voice was higher-pitched than usual, those violet eyes boring right into yours, warning you to quit it without words.

“Caleb?” Josephine’s concern shone past the thick barrier.

His heart dropped into his stomach when he heard the door knock jangling. With a level of concentration he usually reserved for the field, not the bedroom, Caleb increased the pressure of his Evol to create a dense weight behind his door, barring her from entering.

“I don’t know where she is, Gran,” he called out, hoping he didn’t sound too strained. You breathed a laugh, mouth still full of his cock, and he shot you a glare.

“Are you alright?”

She refused to leave him alone, and Caleb cursed under his breath.

“I’m fine,” he reassured her, trying his best to sound level-headed and not like he was getting the best head of his life.

His eyes rolled back into his head, and he had to bite down on his lower lip to keep from expelling an embarrassing moan.

Clearly still unconvinced, Josephine cleared her throat. “Okay, Caleb. Goodnight.”

You giggled softly when a drop of pre hit the back of your throat, lapping up the bitter-salty taste which was clearly a sign of his growing excitement from something so taboo and wrong.

“Okay… night, Gran,” he mumbled in a strained tone.

Her footsteps shuffled away from the door, and Caleb was left with his full attention on you.

“You feisty little vixen,” he groaned, leaning back on his arms to enjoy the sight of you down the line of his body.

As you continued to suck him off, Caleb’s breathing grew more unsteady, his bravado and confidence stripped away to be lapped up by your surprisingly talented mouth.

He wanted to ask you how’d you know to suck cock so well, but he thinks the answer would upset him.

In this moment, you were his and his alone. Screw the previous guys you were with—Caleb wants to be the only one you ever think about whenever you take dick.

Your cheeky tongue expertly swirls over his weeping tip, and he stifles down a loud groan.

“You’ll be the death of me, I swear.” He threaded his fingers through your hair, tugging on it as you took him deeper down your throat.

Mouth stuffed with him, you flicked your tongue over his heavy, leaking shaft and shot him a smirk.

Caleb’s breathing grew heavier, close to his finish line.

He gritted his teeth, giving you one last chance to back off before he made a mess in your pretty mouth.

“I’m close,” he whispered, knowing Gran would be in the other room, sound asleep.

You hummed, and to his delight and mortification, massaged his taint with your knuckles.

Holy… He bit out. “S-shit. You gotta show me the guy who’s been teaching you how to do t-this,” he stammered. “I need to beat him up.”

You giggled, letting him go with a soft ‘pop’, licking your swollen lips. It didn’t take much for him to spurt all over your hands, hot and thick, as you continued to fist his length and massage his weak point at the same time.

Caleb was breathing hard like he had just finished running a marathon, his entire body limp like jelly noodles. He sagged onto the bed, grunting softly when you shifted onto his body, straddling his lap.

Looking smug like the cat who got the cream, you traced a nail down his broad chest. Caleb caught your hand before it could move down to tease his spent dick, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss onto your knuckles instead.

“I think that’s enough exploration for now, Pipsqueak,” he muttered, chest still rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. You hummed and much to his fascination and consternation, lifted your cum-coated fingers to your mouth to suck them clean absent-mindedly.

Caleb’s dick twitched at the sight, coming back to life.

His blood pumped hard with the undeniable yearning and lust he’s had to deny himself for the longest time since he’d known what love meant.

He chuckled tiredly, and without much effort, straightened up, bringing you with him. “Let’s get you cleaned up, Pipsqueak.”

Despite the fast track to this new development in your relationship, you were both still friends first. Banter, inside jokes and giggles filled the bathroom where he cleaned you up, intent to take care of you after you treated him so well.

As much as you thought things would be different, it felt like… nothing had changed at all.

Caleb didn’t speak of the night since it happened, going back to teasing smiles, hair ruffles and his brotherly brand of affection. If it weren’t for your missing panties from the laundry basket which happened every Wednesday like clockwork, you would’ve thought you hallucinated the entire ordeal with him.

You had no idea if you should confront him again. A part of you even wondered if he was embarrassed of the whole thing—if he wanted to pretend like the entire night hadn’t happened because he couldn’t stomach the thought of you. Shame and guilt paralyzed you from speaking about the whole ordeal, and you kept your head down, trying to avoid him if you could whenever he came back home after his training.

Since he was home for his summer holidays before returning back to the field, Caleb’s days back were limited. There was no rhyme or reason for you to pursue something so fragile, but a part of you couldn’t help but hope he would speak to you first.

“Y/N? Aren’t you going to finish your food?” Gran’s concerned tone broke you from your reverie and you shook your head, forcing a smile.

“I’m not hungry,” you replied, picking up your plate of untouched food and cutlery before stepping into the kitchen, almost bumping into Caleb.

“Whoa, Pipsqueak. You’re done already?”

You were never good at maintaining a poker face, so when he glanced at you, Caleb could tell something was wrong.

“Hey—”

You stepped away from him, plastering on a bright grin to hide the lapse of your emotions. “I already ate at work. I’m fine.”

Somehow, he wasn’t convinced. But, you didn’t give him a chance to ask how you were before you booked it back to your bedroom, shutting the door and locking it for extra measure. You were a grown woman now, and yet, this rejection from Caleb stung like you were a jilted teenager all over again.

Huffing, you almost forgot that tonight would be the night of his DAA Fundraiser Gala—a night where you agreed to accompany him as his plus one since Gran couldn’t make it.

It was one thing to see him again after practically finding out your childhood friend used your lacy undergarments as jerk off material, and it was another ballpark altogether to attend an event by his side, pretending to be his loving, younger sister while fighting off these strange emotions of love and heartbreak threatening to spill over.

Caleb could tell your heart wasn’t in it tonight when he pulled his bike in front of the Administration building where the Gala was in full swing.

The entire ride here, you hadn’t said a single word, your arms wrapped around him, but your mind felt like it was a million miles away.

Before you could step away from the bike and walk ahead to the front doors, Caleb caught up to you, grabbing your wrist.

“Hey. Can we… talk?”

He was stuttering, ears turning a bright red when you turned around with a little, “Hmm?”

The taller, older man hummed and hawed, rubbing the back of his neck. His gaze bounced from your eyes to the floor, an exhausting yo-yo of unspoken words and desires.

“You… look beautiful.”

You glanced down at the simple black dress you chose for tonight, noting its lack of frills or embellishments. “You’ve seen me wear this dress a thousand times. It’s nothing special.”

Your callous disregard of his praise made him wince, and Caleb shook his head. “Pipsqueak, no. That’s not what I meant. I… I think you look beautiful tonight. As in you and not the dress.”

He trailed off and you held your breath, vain hope blooming in your chest at the sudden fondness glimmering in his eyes.

“You… mean that?”

He was about to open his mouth and reply when one of his subordinates clapped him on the back, effectively shooting this tenacious moment between you and Caleb down with a shattering bark of laughter.

“Captain Xia! You finally made it in time for the raffle.”

Caleb winced at the interruption, but mustered a grin, clasping his comrade on the shoulder. “I’ll see you inside, Ethan.”

The man named Ethan tipped his head towards you, a wiry shock of ginger curls falling right into his hazel eyes. “Evening, Miss Y/N. You look beautiful.” Not one to stick around after flirting his way through half of Skyhaven, Caleb’s colleague hightailed it towards another group of girls, leaving a blank, ringing silence behind which engulfed you two.

You could tell Caleb wasn’t exactly fond of Ethan’s praise, his amethyst eyes darkening a shade deeper, glittering like an uncut gem in the heart of a dark cavern.

But, he shook off the jealousy and turned to you, extending his arm politely.

Despite the awkwardness lingering between you, you took his arm, unsure what this gesture meant.

Caleb glanced at you, a subtle furrow in his brow which belied his true emotions. He wanted to ask you how you were after the entire reveal—if you had it in your heart to forgive him. But, the words clogged in the back of his throat, lost in the oasis of his slowly fading hopes and dreams that the two of you could ever be more than just friends.

How can he entertain such a thought when you had someone like Zayne in your life? Caleb shuddered. If there was anyone who was perfect for you, it would be the dark-haired man who was your primary physician. He glanced at you throughout the whole night, watching as you danced, ate and bantered with his teammates. How effortlessly you fit into his life without so much as a hitch.

Halfway through the second song, Ethan asked you to dance with him, and you agreed, taking his hand. Caleb struggled to keep his jealousy under wraps when he noticed how you tossed your head back, laughing at something his handsome colleague said. Before he could stop himself, the fighter pilot captain stood up and squeezed his way to the dance floor, taking your hand and tugging you into his arms while you were in the middle of a twirl.

“Caleb!” You gasped, and he glanced over at Ethan, giving him a dumbfounded colleague a cheeky wink.

Ignoring your protest, Caleb smoothly guided you through a slow waltz, taking this time to hold you close. You struggled to put some distance between your bodies, worried that his colleagues would get the wrong idea.

“Caleb, we’re in public—”

“So?” He interjected teasingly. The chandelier overhead threw specks of light onto the dancefloor, fragments of rays speckling his grin. “People can say what they want, Pipsqueak. I’m here with you—that’s all that matters.”

He spun you in his arms effortlessly, reminding you again of how easily he could maneuver your body. Giddy from the champagne and restless from the feelings you were trying so hard to forget from that forbidden night you shared with each other, you spoke the first thing that came to your mind.

“Caleb, do I mean anything to you?”

His grin faltered, though his movements were smooth and sure as he gently wrapped his arm around your waist, playfully dipping you low before putting you back to your feet.

“Of course, you do. You’re my Pipsqueak,” he murmured, soft enough that you needed to move closer to hear him better.

But, Caleb could see the doubt flickering across your expression, and he quickly rectified his insensible confession.

“No. Crap—that’s not what I meant,” he stumbled over his words, the two of you coming to a stop in the middle of the dance floor. Despite the couples twirling and giggling around you, it felt like you were in a bubble, lost in each other’s presence and gazes.

“I like you,” he admitted softly, cringing when he came to the realization that the reason you were being so distant these past few days was because of him. “And I have always… I’ve loved you. Since as long as I can remember.” He had no idea where the confidence to spew these lifelong words he’s kept fast to his chest came from, but it burst forth from the dam the moment he gave his true emotions permission to overflow.

You gaped at him. Under the strobing lights, Caleb couldn’t take his eyes off you, the flickering beams highlighting just how goddamn beautiful you were.

“You… like me?”

If his feelings weren’t obvious enough, Caleb leaned forward and without a single shred of fear, he kissed you, softly and sure. Right on the lips where everyone could see.

He didn’t care if someone had spotted him basically professing his love to the woman he had grown up with. The same one who Josephine gave the impression of being his younger sister. All that was on Caleb’s mind now was tearing down your doubts of him not loving you.

Your pretty eyes fluttered wide open when he pulled away, common sense snapping you back to the reality of standing on the dance floor as he waited for you to say something.

But, you had a better idea to truly show him your love.

Grabbing his hand, you pulled him from the dance floor and towards the exit, turning back to find him grinning knowingly. The flicker of desire you ignited that night when you caught him with your panties matured into something deeper. Something more carnal.

He took the lead, knowing this building like the back of his hand. There was a hidden room on the second floor where lecturers kept their projectors, and he dragged you right into the dark spot, pushing the door open, and then pushing you against it.

Caleb’s violet eyes shone brighter than jewels as he leaned in closer, lips millimeters from yours.

“I want you…”

Intoxicated by his scent, his presence, his everything, you leaned in, too, eyes drooping close, your voice soft and hypnotizing as you whispered:

“Then, take me.”

Caleb couldn’t waste another moment anymore. His lips slammed into yours with a bruising force and he kissed you like a starved man denied the taste of honey for thousands of years. The sweetness of you coated his palette, saturating his tongue till he felt like he could drown in your flavor. You kissed him back just as ardently, desperate to feel him closer.

The inexplicable heat of your bodies pressed against each other began to fog up the windows of this tiny room, your mouths meeting in between stirring gasps and ragged moans.

His lips charted a path from your jaw to your throat, down to the dip of your collarbone. The feel of him tonguing the rise of your breasts past the edge of your dress made a spark of electricity run up your spine. They said that the most sensitive parts of a human’s body were the fingertips and tongue with 100 pressure receptors in one cubic centimeter.

You were starting to realize how correct the fact was. The smoothness of his skin under your fingertips, the texture of his tongue curling around yours, seemed to be magnified by tenfold, your entire body aroused beyond reason.

“You taste divine…”

His whisper in your ear made the hairs on the back of your neck tingle. You moaned when he backed you up against the wall, hooking your thighs around his waist.

You chuckled at his impatience, your hip bumping into an old projector.

“S-slow down,” you teased in a shaky voice, digging your heels into his lower back. “I’m not leaving.”

He grunted, using one hand to unbutton the front of his pants. “Can’t take the risk.”

The sight of him, bulging behind his gray boxers, solidified to you how real this felt. How you were about to get fucked by your oldest childhood friend in what was the DAA’s broom closet.

Despite the less than romantic setting, the sparks flying between your bodies was hard to deny. The mounting heat left you susceptible to exhaling soft moans whenever his lips smeared hasty kisses on your throat and jaw. His teeth preyed on the sensitive strip of your neck, leaving behind careless love bites, his devouring mouth bringing the blood to your skin and gifting you marks in the shape of his mouth.

It was too dark to make out much of the sight of his cock, but in the sparse scattering of light shining through the grimy windows, you could make out at least 6 inches of flaccidity which was growing into a monster waiting to impale you.

Heart in your throat and a pulse in your pussy, you eagerly lifted your hips, waiting for him to give you what you want.

“Impatient, aren’t we, Pipsqueak?” He teased, though the ragged quality of his voice belied his true need. It felt hot and stuffy inside this little room, but you didn’t mind the mugginess.

Rivulets of sweat dripped down your back and neck, beads of sweat collecting on his brow. Caleb was fighting his inner demons to just grab and ravish you without a care for anything else in this goddamn world. It wasn’t exactly the ‘roses-on-bed-scented-candles-all-night-loving’ he envisioned for his first time, but he still had to be gentle.

He was determined to not hurt you.

Using his raw strength to lift you with one arm, Caleb discreetly snuck a stroke, making sure he was ready to claim you.

Your eyes shone demurely with mushy desire, glowing softly in the lack of light. Caleb was mesmerized when he slowly unzipped your dress. Your tits were right in his face, held captive by the loving lacy grip of your bra, and he didn’t spare another second to drag them down, letting your pillowy softness overspill right into his waiting mouth.

Caleb took one hard nipple in his mouth, rolling the sensitive peak with his tongue. Your soft gasps and hitched whines were making him leak all over the dusty floors, and he growled, grazing his teeth on the stiff bud.

He loved how your hips clipped against his and groaned under his breath when you buried your fingers in his hair, tugging on the roots.

“You’re gonna pluck some strands out if you keep this up,” he grumbled when you pulled harder. The ghost of your laughter brushed the delicate shell of his ear, and Caleb felt your warm tongue trace the ridges.

Closer to you now, he could plainly hear your quiet whines. Taking his time to prep you, Caleb ignored the strain of lifting you up, enjoying the weight of your body in his grasp as he quickly stuffed his index and middle finger down his mouth.

Lubricating it well with his spit, he used the two soaked digits to pry the seat of your panties aside, before gently easing them right into your fluttering hole.

Your gasp reverberated across the room and he shushed you, planting his mouth on yours to quell your whimpers and moans.

“C-Caleb—”

Shit. You’re so tight. He murmured right into the crook of your throat, flicking his tongue out to taste your skin.

Beautiful girl, he whispered. You love this, don’t you?

The stretch of his fingers felt immaculate, pushing past the tight ring of muscle, slowly feeding you inch after inch. Caleb knew he didn’t exactly have the smallest hands, and that was partly what made this so fun.

If you struggled to take his fingers, imagine how tight you would be wrapped around his cock.

The blood rushed straight to his head, leaving him dizzy. He licked his lips, settling knuckle-deep into the depths of your cunt.

The violet-haired man groaned the same moment you mewled out his name.

Caleb… shit… you’re so deep…

He chuckled throatily. I can go deeper, baby.

Scissoring his fingers, Caleb established a rhythm which had your entire body shaking.

His mouth stays latched around your nipple, plumping it up with arousal from tender suction and licks.

Your breathy whimpers and heady sighs went straight to his neglected cock. But, Caleb didn’t care. He wanted to fully focus on you.

You like that, baby?

Devotion flooded his instincts, loving how you held onto him tighter as if he was both your anchor and the storm wrecking you apart.

You gurgled a cross between a whimper and a sigh, nodding. “It feels good, Caleb.”

You weren’t lying. The way you were squeezing down on him made Caleb feel like he was in a dream.

Yeah? He huffed, licking a strip from your jaw to your lower lip. Loving your mewled and arched your back.

Once your sweet pussy began to flutter uncontrollably, Caleb knew it was time to really claim you once and for all.

The thrill of fucking you with your clothes still on was part of the entire charm of why Caleb had fallen in love with you. Daring, bold, kind—you were the physical embodiment of all his dreams coming true.

And he never stopped reminding you of how lucky he was to have you.

“You’re so gorgeous, darling,” he cooed. The feeling of his cock sinking deep inside of you couldn't compare to his fingers.

For one, he was girthier than you expected; stretching you further than what you could handle. Caleb had to clamp a hand over your mouth to staunch your sweet moans.

Ssh. You don’t want them to find us out, don’t you?

Sweet and obedient, you hummed, shaking your head. The honeyed tenderness in his violet eyes never disappeared, the affection in them shining through with unconcealed devotion.

Your dulcet mewl of, “Caleb, please,” went straight to his dick like a lightning strike, and the last strands of his patience snapped.

Caleb wanted to take it nice and slow, but the building heat between the both of you that has been stoking for years and years on his end, displaced his common sense.

He needed to have you; he needed to claim you.

In one swift motion, Caleb lifted you by the hips, hissing in pleasure when you hastily tugged your panties down, allowing him to nudge the tip of his cock past the snug fit of your drooling pussy.

He grunted the second your sweet heat and vulnerable walls closed on him, encapsulating him in your intoxicating warmth.

Caleb felt your forehead press to his, the closeness of you spiking his heart rate. Despite the position and location he had you in, the air was clouded with intimacy.

Your soft sighs, your yielding kisses, the subdued moans you bit back so as not to give any nosy eavesdroppers an idea of how good he was indulging you, made his head spin with love and his cock twitch with lust.

You’re so big, you whispered and he almost came into your tight heat.

Caleb grunted, sweat stinging his eyes and dripping down his cheeks. “You’ll be the death of me, darling,” he murmured, losing himself in your gooey, wide doe eyes. “You feel amazing.”

Grunts, moans and puffs of heat touching each other’s lips filled the space. Your body was making him so high; no amount of stimulants or adrenaline could make his heart pound this fast.

When you pressed your lips to his, Caleb just about had a stroke of Nirvana, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, voice low and deep as he murmured, “I’m close.”

He’d been with girls before, but none of them were you. Experience couldn’t trump the novelty of tasting the first girl he had ever been in love with.

Tears pricked in your eyes, the pleasure overwhelming.

Caleb… oh… oh… shit.

He felt you tighten on him, the soft plop plop plop of your bodies meeting each other in a sloppy, heavenly embrace loud through the rush of blood flowing in his ears.

Caleb pushed his tongue right into your mouth, at the same moment you cried out his name, muffling your cries.

You were being so unbelievably good for him, not a hint of restraint, and he kept on going. Caleb dug his heels into the ground, propelling his hips in powerful surges, the fucking grip of your pussy on him so warm, wet and tight.

He has no desire of stopping, intent on pushing you over the edge. To get your body to recognize his undeniable claim on it.

You’re being so good for me, princess, he breathed hotly into your ear. I can feel you clamping down—fuck. Don’t stop.

Your nails stabbed into his shoulders, dragging down his back.

His precum mixed with your juices, dripping to the floor, your body shaking like an earthquake was ripping through it.

Please—you panted. Don’t stop.

Caleb didn’t want to. He wanted nothing more than to stuff you full of his seed, and to finally see his claim dripping white hot and thick down your thighs.

He has been dreaming of this day since he figured out how to jack himself off—the star of his filthiest fantasies finally in his arms.

Caleb dug his fingers into the plush fat of your thighs, using it as leverage to jerk you up and down his slick cock. He can tell you’re approaching your high from the scrunch in your brow, the way your lips are slack and parted.

“Caleb…”

He encouraged your release with a hearty squeeze, the feeling of his cock rutting deeper into you making your toes curl behind his back.

You tossed your head back, letting a shameless moan escape. Fingers tangling his hair, his mouth pressed to yours, you squeaked, your climax hanging on a tenacious thread.

He broke it with his lips pressed to your ear, growling at you—cum for me, princess. Give me all of your sweet cum.

Your heels stabbed into his lower back almost painfully, the sting enough to push him over the edge together with you. Caleb pumped you full of his cum, relentless in his need to conquer you.

His seed painted your walls, your breaths plucking into a whiny, high-pitched moan. If he hadn’t just blown the biggest load in his life, Caleb was sure he would’ve combust into flames when you sucked on his bottom lip needily, murmuring about how much you loved his cum inside of you.

Caleb brushed a soft kiss to your forehead, setting you back down to your feet. You wobbled and stumbled, needing to hold onto the thick trunk of his bicep to steady yourself.

The flush on your cheeks and the glassy look in your eyes was a complete telltale to what you both had done in this closet, and yet, he wanted to see you squirm even more.

Deftly, without you noticing, Caleb used his Evol to flick your skirt up, smoothly removing your panties and stuffing it into his pocket. He grinned at your aghast expression, words saccharine sweet and dubiously innocent.

“What? That’s my souvenir for the night.”

You had no energy to fight him off, not when he was helping you adjust your dress and hair. Once you were decently dressed and he made sure his pants had no wrinkles, Caleb steps out of the closet, glancing left to right before tightening his grip on your hand and leading you out.

Your earth shattering release still humming in your bones, you almost felt shy to meet his eyes under the flickering, warm lights.

But, Caleb didn’t let you marinate in your shyness for too long, squeezing your hand and shooting you a bright, reassuring grin.

“Come on, princess. Let’s get you home.”

Not Pipsqueak. Not Y/N.

But, princess.

Caleb’s princess.

You squirmed under his gaze, but not for the reasons he thought. Caleb glanced at you, curiosity shining in his eyes when you whispered softly: “Can I have my panties back?”

He grinned, cocking a brow. “And why should I do that, princess?”

You plastered on a scowl, narrowing your eyes. “Because,” you huffed, “Your stupid cum is leaking down my thighs.”

Against your wishes, you felt the faint stirrings of his Evol brushing your legs, though to someone not accustomed to it, the pressure probably felt like the slightest hint of a breeze. Using his Evol, Caleb slid it between your folds, finding your puffy pussy and to your mortification, the pressure solidified.

Safely stuffing you full of his cum.

You opened your mouth, about to comment on his audacity when you were accosted by Ethan, who’s self-assured smirk faltered the moment he saw Caleb’s hand in yours.

“Yo… isn’t she your sister?”

Caleb’s eyes darkened, and he straightened at the intrusive question, his usual jovial, light tone now deeper and authoritative.

“Do you always make it a habit to make such intrusive comments on your captain’s relationships, Lieutenant Cole?”

The second Caleb uttered his rank, Ethan sobered up and clicked his heels together, arms folded behind his back as he looked past his superior’s shoulder.

“No, sir,” Ethan said clearly, shaking his head. “Of course, not, sir.”

Caleb nodded, apparently satisfied, and tightened his grip on your hand. “Come on, princess. Let’s go home before Gran gets worried.”

The older man knew the second his back was turned, Ethan would run off and gossip with the rest of his cohort, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Let the rumor mill churn. As long as Caleb has you by his side, he wouldn’t pay a single shred of attention to the whispers.

You were noticeably shaken by the encounter with Ethan and Caleb squeezed your hand, bringing you back from your thoughts.

“Hey. You okay, Pipsqueak?”

A deep breath. “Are you sure you… want this?” Are you sure you want me?

The silent question was unspoken, yet he heard it all the same.

“Of course, I do,” he said and proving without a shadow of doubt at how serious he was for you, Caleb drew you closer, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “I want this. I want you. And nothing is ever going to change my mind on this.”

Relieved and a little touched by his insistence, Caleb saw the trust spreading across your face; your belief in him strengthening.

“Come on, princess,” he murmured, voice warm as he tugged you towards his motorcycle. “Let’s head home—I’m not done with you yet.”

Clutching his hand tighter, you flashed him a carefree grin and nodded.

Home with Caleb. Home and Caleb.

Both felt incredibly right.

a/n: i need a cold shower and caleb to come home stat .... reblogs and feedback are so beloved <3

#🦢 writes #caleb love and deepspace #caleb smut #xia yizhou #xia yizhou x reader #caleb x reader #caleb x mc #caleb x you #lnds caleb #l&ds caleb #lads caleb #love and deepspace fic #l&ds x reader #lads x reader #lads x you #lads x y/n #lnds smut #l&ds smut

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your-safe-castle · 7 months ago

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✰smau: telling them their zipper is open

✰characters: Zayne, Rafayel, Xavier, Caleb, Thomas, Jeremiah

✰tags: nsfw, suggestive, crack.

author's note: hello babies. So i guess I'm back I'm sooooo damn sorry. I have actually alot of exams and stuff going on and guess who twisted their foot 3 times in the last few days. I'm so sorry my angels.😭

-Zayne

- Rafayel

- Xavier

- Caleb

- Thomas

- Jeremiah

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starry-fame · 3 months ago

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Caleb Loves to Bully You in Bed [18+ Caleb x Gender Neutral!reader/MC]

Summary:

Everyone sees utter perfection from Caleb. The kind of guy you could bring home to your parents, loved and adored by all. The charmer that gets along with everyone — flawless in every sense of the word.

Only you know just how mean he can be.

Tags: overstimulation, begging, crying, ambiguous genitalia!reader/mc, penetration, mean teasing, aftercare Word count: 906 Ao3 Author’s Notes: I wrote this in like an hour I really need Caleb for some reason lol

Masterlist

Prequel - Overboard

You remember introducing Caleb to your work friends, the way Tara lit up and asked a billion questions about your relationship — your past — about how you were a picky child, and Caleb made it his goal to find the things you liked best and make them better than anyone else could. Even strangers could see the way he doted on you. Small gifts, his subtle gestures of affection, the way he lights up anytime he talks about you as though you’re his entire world.

People even chastise you sometimes — wonder how you got the most perfect boyfriend when you reject half of his affections and scoff when he does a sweet gesture. Yeah, you’re demanding and picky if he gets the wrong snack item. And yeah, you tell him to get you the best or to get you nothing at all. And you glare and swat his hand half the time when he pats you.

No one knows Caleb like you do — they see the Caleb he shows off to the world. The dependable doting boyfriend. The man that spoils you rotten and practically worships you, the man who knows every little thing about your likes and interests and will never slack on getting you the best of the best.

What they don’t know is that Caleb is the biggest bully in bed.

It’s almost infuriating, how everyone thinks he’s this perfect sweet saint and probably the kindest in bed too. No, Caleb is mean. For all the sweet things he did growing up and now — behind that is an insatiable man who revels in your tears.

He loves to pleasure you senseless — he’s got a thing for kissing every part of you, for lavishing your entire body. He could spend an entire night neglecting himself just to spread your thighs and make you come apart from his mouth and hands. He’ll spend an eternity sucking at your chest until your nipples are puffy and swollen, stroking your trembling thighs and lavishing you with his mouth until you’re trembling and begging for reprieve. He’ll make you come over and over and over until you’re an oversensitive mess — and the only thing that stops him is a genuine plea for mercy or you on the cusp of blacking out.

Fucking you is even worse. He’s the sort to spread your legs and hold you in positions that make you take every thick inch or kiss away your tears in missionary as you babble from his cock. He’ll watch you tremble, quiver, tear up from the overwhelming pleasure and call you adorable as you’re squirming, begging. He’ll hold you close and sing the softest praises on how well you take him, how cute you look squirming from his cock, how every little thing about you is perfect and you’re a bonafide fucked out mess. He’ll hold you on his lap and make you ride him, laugh as you quiver and chew your lip from the utter embarrassment. He likes embarrassing you — the asshole, watching you almost tear up from frustration as you try to ride him but you’re so sensitive you can barely lift yourself. And he’ll help you, hold your hips as he fucks up into you over and over, kissing at your collar bone, telling you how perfect you are as you groan and cling to him for dear life.

He loves tears too — is another thing you learned. You can’t remember the last time he didn’t fuck you to the point of sobbing, him kissing away salty streaks and whispering sweet praises as he makes you take his cock again and again until you physically can’t. If you were crying because of pain or emotional hurt? He’d turn the world over to find the cause, hunting down whoever or whatever hurt you. He’d comfort you and hold you as long as you needed. But when the tears are because of him and how overwhelmed he makes you feel? He makes it his goal to fuck them out of you.

It’s not one or two times either — it’s almost every night he’ll leave you spent, sobbing, and sleep-deprived with cum leaking from you. And the next morning he’ll look perfectly unbothered, busy in the kitchen and flashing you the sweetest smile as you stumble with shaky legs over to the counter. You glare and curse at him, but he just laughs and gives you your favorite breakfast, kisses your cheek before plating his own food.

You learned quickly Caleb was both your biggest lover and biggest bully. He adored every thing about you, from seeing you happy and making you feel adored and loved to seeing you a mess from his fingers, mouth, cock, using toys on you. He never made you feel unloved, he spoiled you rotten in the day and cuddled and cleaned you sweetly after wrecking you at night.

He desires every aspect of you an unhealthy amount, from your love to your feigned hatred at his constant bullying. And when he makes a small joke — a little innuendo only you understand in front of strangers and you smack him — he merely laughs, unknowing audience none the wiser.

Everyone sees utter perfection from him. The kind of man you could bring home to your parents, loved and adored by all. The charmer that gets along with everyone — flawless in every sense of the word.

Only you know just how mean he can be.

btw check out Linkon Lounge, an 18+ Lads Themed Otome Discord Server! We stream otome/anime/movies, have lads boys rp/text bots (+Caleb ofc), and chill! Super inclusive and lgbtq+ friendly!

#love and Deepspace #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x reader #lads #love and deepspace smut #lnds #caleb x mc #caleb

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missaengg · 2 months ago

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An Innocent Question

Day 27 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Caleb x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, pwp, alternate universe - college, friends with benefits, cunnilingus, fingering, finger fucking, making out, p in v sex, caleb being a sexy little shit Prompts: Casual Sex/FWB | “Come here. I'll make it all better.” A/N: Yeee~ Finally wrote one for Caleb :) ao3 link here.

It started with an innocent question.

You were in Caleb’s dorm room, perched on his bed after you raced over the moment you finished moving in.

“Hey, Caleb, is it true that the average penis is between five and six inches long?”

You’d read that somewhere on the internet, and who better than Caleb, a man with a penis himself, to answer the question?

Caleb choked on his drink, spraying soda on his dorm room carpet that had definitely seen better days. “Pipsqueak, did ya just ask me about penises?”

“Yeah, I read it somewhere on the internet, and I was wondering if it was true.” You nonchalantly shrugged, confused as to why he was making such a big deal out of your question. “I mean, you have a penis, you should know, right?”

Caleb looked at you like you’d lost your goddamn mind. It was unnerving… how he was just staring at you without uttering a single word.

“You don’t have to be so weird about it,” you huffed.

“I’m not being– Pipsqueak, why’re ya asking me about penises?” Caleb asked, still eyeing you strangely.

“Six inches just seems like a lot, that’s all,” you said annoyed. “Whatever, forget I said anything.”

Caleb was still eyeing you with that strange look in his eyes when his expression shifted, a sudden thought dawning on him. “Pipsqueak, are ya a virgin?” he asked incredulously.

Of course he made it sound like it was this horrible thing to be one.

“N–no!” you blurted out, your cheeks burning.

Technically, you weren’t. A virgin, that is. You had a high school boyfriend who was your first and only experience in that realm, but the two of you had been inexperienced teenagers fumbling your way through the mechanics of sex, and well… it had been underwhelming to put it nicely. You’d always heard how fun sex could be, but you’d never experienced it yourself, and you were curious about how it might feel with someone different… someone more experienced… maybe even someone like Caleb…

Caleb smirked, and you felt your blood freeze in your veins because you knew that smirk. You knew it all too well. It was the shit-eating grin he’d get when he was about to ruthlessly tease you… and he loved teasing you.

“Pipsqueak’s still a virgin, eh?”

“I am not a virgin, thank you very much. Not that I have to prove anything to you, asshole.”

“Mmhmm.”

Your blood pressure skyrocketed. Caleb had this way of just burrowing under your skin, and you knew… you knew you were playing into his hands, but the skepticism in his gaze had you steaming, and you wanted nothing more than to scratch the disbelief off his face.

“I had a boyfriend in high school, jerk face,” you snapped, “and not that it’s any of your business, but we had sex, okay?”

Caleb mockingly nodded, that stupid impish glint in his eye glittering at you dangerously. “And lemme guess, it was just the one time and ya never orgasmed?”

You snapped your mouth shut, pressing your lips into a thin, tight line, the retort you wanted to throw at him dying in your throat because he was right. You had nothing to say to that.

“So I’m right,” Caleb sniggered, and you bristled at the infuriating sound.

You hated when he was able to see right through you and used it for his own sick enjoyment.

“Well, I dunno what to tell ya, Pipsqueak.” Caleb shrugged. “I dunno about other guys, but I’m definitely bigger than six inches.”

Your mouth dropped open. Six inches already seemed like a lot of dick, and you couldn’t imagine anyone being bigger than your ex-boyfriend who had been roughly around five, and that had seemed massive to you at the time.

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you cringed when you couldn’t stop the next question tumbling out of your mouth.

“Can I see?”

Caleb’s eyes widened, shocked by your outrageous question. Hell, you shocked yourself asking something so ridiculous, but the next thing you knew, you found yourself splayed on top of Caleb’s extra-long twin size bed trembling violently while he obscenely licked away between your legs doing things with his tongue you never would’ve thought a tongue could do… never would’ve guessed he knew how to do.

Thrilling tingles were running up and down your back building into something you’d never felt before, a dizzying pressure of pleasure tightening in your stomach until you burst, and you shook uncontrollably against Caleb’s mouth suctioned to your bits, ecstasy rolling through you in torrid waves.

“Thatta girl,” Caleb snickered. “Congrats on your first orgasm, Pipsqueak.”

You wanted to smack him. Or ask him to do that again. Or both. But you just laid there instead, flushed and spent, thinking about how much you’d been missing out in the sex department.

You and Caleb never spoke about what happened after you left. Not once.

But you thought about that night often, how explosive your climax had been from just his mouth, and if a mouth could make you feel so sinfully good, how much better would it be with an actual dick?

As the year progressed, you started dating, which wasn’t hard considering how desperate college boys were for female companionship, and while you didn’t go all the way with them, none of them came close to being able to pleasure you with their clumsy mouths the way Caleb did. They were too rough or too tentative. They used too much tongue or too much of their teeth. They ignored your sweet aching clit or stroked it with too broad of a touch.

Each tryst left you feeling more disappointed. Unsatisfied. Unfulfilled. And no matter how much you tried to relieve yourself of the pent-up frustration building between your legs using your own unpracticed fingers, you couldn’t. It just wasn’t the same.

Which was how you found yourself back in his room, a textbook in your hands, under the false pretenses of wanting his assistance with Biochemistry, one innuendo leading to another until your study session devolved into him shirtless, pinning you down on his narrow bed with his strong, muscular body.

The muscles on his back delightfully rippled under your palms, a stark reminder of how much he’d grown since he left for college. Caleb had always been athletic and toned, but this…?

His hungry lips crushed yours with deep, bruising kisses, his hot breath mingling with yours, sweeping you away in a cloud of his irresistible cologne. You were light headed and woozy, drowning in a sea of everything Caleb, and you wondered how it was possible for you to come undone so quickly from his kisses alone.

“Fuck, Pipsqueak, the things ya do to me,” he huskily groaned, and just the sound of the thready throb in his voice had electricity jolting down your spine and buzzing in your sex.

One large, calloused hand slipped under your shirt, roughly groping your soft breasts and tweaking your firm nipples, and the other trailed up your quivering thigh and under your skirt, deft fingers sliding into your slick opening and curling against a part of you that had you moaning shamelessly and seeing stars.

He was kneading and pulling and pinching, and as you rocked your hips and arched your back, you thought it couldn’t just be Caleb who could make you feel this heavenly, surely there had to be someone out there who could make your body sing the way Caleb could?

The thought lingered in your mind afterwards for some time.

The next boy you dated felt promising. You weren’t his first girlfriend or his second or even his third. He was older than even Caleb, a senior mere months away from graduating with more experience in four years of college than you’d had in your entire life. He seemed kind and sweet, and he was… He was very sweet, but when you eagerly jumped into bed with him, desperate to feel what Caleb made you feel, you quickly realized he wasn’t very sweet at all.

He didn’t quite know what to do with his hands or his tongue or his dick, often skipping the foreplay and jackhammering away until he finished without any regard to whether you had cum at all, and as he moaned away, you found yourself squinting at the ceiling wondering if it truly was just Caleb who could make you cum.

You ached. Your body craved release, and no one, not even yourself, was able to give it to you the way Caleb did with just his hands and his mouth. It was like you were addicted, and no matter who you sought out, it seemed as though they would never be good enough compared to his honeyed touch.

You squirmed sitting in his room, despondent at how disappointing your dating life had been.

“So, how’s the boytoy?” Caleb asked, wiggling his eyebrows like the dumbass he was.

“Awful. We broke up.”

“Aww… why? He seemed nice.”

You sighed, dejectedly twisting your hair around your fingers, relishing the sting of pain on your scalp when you twisted too hard. “The sex sucked.”

“Ew, Pipsqueak. I don’t need to hear about your sex life.”

“Caleb, you’ve eaten me out and fingered me twice already. I think that ship has sailed,” you stated, finding his response immature and silly.

“Just doesn’t feel right.”

“That… that doesn’t make any sense.”

And it didn’t. It didn’t make any sense because this man had given you the most divine orgasms of your life and was grimacing at the thought of you having a sex life when the two of you had done practically everything, but actually fuck.

“Yea, I know.” He looked at you pointedly, something you couldn’t read flickering in his eyes. “I just don’t wanna hear about ya with other guys is all.”

You didn’t say anything. You weren’t sure how to interpret what he just said, but you didn’t dwell on it too deeply. You were occupied with the thoughts of yet another failed quest in finding someone other than Caleb to make you feel rapturous joy and whether perhaps… you were the problem.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, twisting your hands together in your lap. “Hey, Caleb?”

“Yeah?”

“Why can’t anyone I date make me cum?”

Caleb observed you silently, the gears slowly turning in his head. “Is that why the sex sucked? Cause ya didn’t have an orgasm?”

“Yeah. The only person who’s been able to give me an orgasm is…” You swallowed thickly. “...is you.”

You whispered the last two words, your confession both humiliating and vulnerable because you didn’t know how Caleb would react. Would he mercilessly tease you like he always did? Or comfort you in a strange turn of events? Or would he… touch you again?

The silence was deafening.

You peeked at Caleb. He looked startled, frozen in place with his magical, immoral mouth hanging open. The tension hung in the air, heavy and palpable, and you waited with bated breath for him to react, to say or do something… anything…

Caleb broke into laughter, wild tremors shaking his stupid, sexy body, and you scowled, the irritation only Caleb could wrench from you bubbling to the surface. You opened your mouth to scathingly retaliate when Caleb wiped the tears from his eyes and cooed, “Aww… is my poor Pipsqueak frustrated? Come here. I’ll make it all better for ya.”

You wanted to vehemently refuse, but your body had a mind of its own, and you melted into Caleb’s embrace when he wrapped you in his arms because… well, who were you kidding really.

“I’m warning ya, though, Pipsqueak. Like I said, I’m bigger than six inches,” he whispered in your ear, his warm breath tickling your earlobe.

You gulped, your heart beating madly in your chest, the anticipation of what was to come flooding you with a blistering heat…

And before you could even process what was happening, you were naked, bracing yourself against the wall, and he was bullying his fat cock into your dripping cunt – and you were dripping because his scent alone drove you insane – stretching you deliciously open, and you gasped because… because, fuck, his cock was just simply godlike.

He wasn’t joking when he said he was bigger than six inches. He was the biggest you’d ever had, and every time his tip kissed your cervix, you keened, your fingernails digging into the standard, white paint of the dorms.

He rutted into you brutally, his broad palm shoving your head into the wall, and your hips bucked back to slam into his because you needed him deeper… harder…

“Shit, Pipsqueak, taking me so… well,” Caleb grunted, speaking erratically from the exertion. “Ya really… really aren’t a virgin… are ya?”

“That’s what I’ve… fuck… been saying… you… hah… you asshole!”

Tears stung your eyes because this… this was what you had been searching for… what you craved… what you had been missing in your life.

You were on fire, searing flames blazing into an uncontrollable inferno, ravaging your poor body until there was nothing left and you were shuddering… spasming… pathetically mewling Caleb’s name in strangled sobs.

“Ah, fuck, I can’t— I–” Caleb sputtered, and for the first time, you saw him lose control, and he shouted, “Fuck!” before spilling ribbon after ribbon of his cum into your drooling, convulsing cunt.

It was the first time you’d let someone finish inside of you, and you felt his essence filling you to the brim, creeping out from around his dick and down your quavering inner thighs. Fucking Caleb had been like having a taste of the forbidden fruit, and you smoldered with desire for more… more of the succulent rapture he’d shown you.

Caleb planted his lips on your shoulder, grazing the skin lightly with his teeth, electric sparks radiating from every part of you he touched, and in the depths of your hazy, post-bliss muddled mind, you heard him tauntingly say…

“Geez, Pipsqueak, if ya think that felt good, wait till ya see what I do next.”

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nath-sanvit · 9 months ago

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I was swapping screens when this happened. ... ...

NO.. NOT THE SENTENCE, THE SLIPPING SCREEN TO HIS BULGE. Now, I had to put 30mins of workout. Jesus....

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grandisknight · 3 months ago

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kiss me through the phone | caleb

summary: You hit Caleb’s line one night, wondering how he’s been. Little did you know, you were about to find out all about it and more.

tags: nsfw (mdni), gn!reader (no specific descriptors), teasing, banter, phone call (phone sex), swearing, dirty talk, (semi) guided masturbation, mutual masturbation, ejaculate

wc: 2.6k | ao3 | kinktober in deepspace masterlist

a/n: replaying through the early main story brought this about caleb i miss u sm

When the sun rises, the moon falls in perfect harmony. Such was the way of the world, but it doesn’t lift the heaviness lingering in your heart any further. Especially when that same sky separates you from someone you miss so, so dearly.

A dedicated fighter pilot of the Deepspace Aviation Administration, Caleb was away from Linkon City more often than not.

Either having his nose buried in the paperwork or wings soaring through the skies—he always reassures that he was safe, all in one piece for you to inspect when he returns for a monthly visit. Still as tall as ever, as lovingly annoying as ever when he pretends to be hurt at a pinch to his arm. His laughs only grow in volume the longer you chastise him for it.

Caleb was the apple of your eye. And currently, the same apple plainly stares back at you through a phone screen. A pair of poorly drawn eyes and a lopsided smile overlaid the crisp, red apple beneath; it looked silly, befitting of the man who doodled it on.

You wonder how he was doing—if he ate today, were the clouds kinder than the last storm he told you about. Taking a glance past your bedroom window provided you no semblance of an answer. The blanketed stratosphere was only a pitch black of night and stars littered about them plenty, neatly settled into the evening.

(Call him, you should call him.)

Your fingers hover above the button, room for second thoughts lost to time when you instinctively pressed down. Bringing it to your ear, the dial tone drones on, and so does your heart in wait.

He doesn’t answer on the first ring, and a feeling of unease curls into your gut. Far too soon to jump to conclusions and worst case scenarios, but what if… just, what if something was wrong?

Your heart lodges itself into your throat when you press again, letting the ring dull your ears and become nothing but a monotonous doom. Again, and again. Your own worries are bound to eat you alive by the third ring.

(Please pick up, please, please, please.)

Miraculously, the receiver crackled and a voice so warm greets you, albeit a bit… breathless. “Hey there. You’re still up?”

“Caleb,” you exhale, feeling relief wash over your nerves. Of course he was fine, you scared yourself over nothing. Straightening your back against the headboard, you return the phone to your ear and ask, “Are you okay? You don’t sound so good.”

Rustling could be heard from his end—laundry, maybe? And a faint snap catches your attention, especially when he only hisses and delays his response.

“I’m—“ He clears his throat. “Yeah, all good. What’s up, pipsqueak?”

“Don’t ‘pipsqueak’ me, Caleb,” you say firmly. “Did you break a bone before picking up the phone?” The joke was light-hearted at best, though a hint of your concern faceted the same words.

“No,” he heartily laughs. Even the muffled receiver doesn’t conceal how lovely the sound is. “Sorry, I was just… preoccupied, before I saw your call.”

Your brow quirks at the odd phrasing, and you point out, “Doing what, exactly?”

You pull back your phone to read the time, seeing it’s only a quarter past nine. There wasn’t much to do around this time of night, when the streets were quieter and people kept to themselves within their abodes.

“Stuff.” He off-handedly replies, doing the most to answer you indirectly. “Anyways, what’d you call me for? You’re not hurt or anything, are you?”

“Physically? No. Emotionally? Depends,” you answer. “But I’ll live.” Toying with the edge of your blanket, you add on, “Don’t change the subject, either. I can hear a liar when they come and go.”

“You never let me off easy,” Caleb muses, seemingly conceding to your observation. “Listen, pick a number, one or two, and I’ll tell you.”

“One and a half,” you snicker.

He sighs in disbelief. “That wasn’t an option at all.”

“It counts as both,” you reason with a shrug. “That way, you’ll tell me what’s up either way.”

Caleb doesn’t answer right away, seemingly pondering his response. A part of you feels guilty for finding a loophole to a simple play. “No pressure or anything, really. I was just,” you pause, puffing out a small sigh. “Wondering how you were doing today, that’s all.”

Maybe a text message would’ve gone over better; that damn apple had a good reason for staring so stupidly at you on the screen.

“I can hang up—“

“No,” he interjects, with some tone of urgency that has you stilling your fingers. “Wait, hold on. Don’t hang up just yet.”

More shuffling could be heard on his side, before he softens his words and says, “Today was kinda slow, so I’m alright. Better actually, since you called.”

Ah, there was the answer to one of your questions. You can’t help but let out a small laugh, though appreciating his intent. “Caleb, that’s really cheesy.”

“You like cheesy things,” he points out, and you could practically see the grin on his face. “And it’s the truth. Dinner was fine too. Nothing exciting really happened, and y’know how they are at the DAA.”

Secretive, though maybe it was for the best. You have asked him in the past, though met to no avail because of the very reason. Another checkbox to your wonders is met.

“I missed this,” you quietly admit, now pulling apart one of the frayed strings the blanket once had. “Hearing your voice.” And seeing you, though the unspoken words linger in your throat.

There was still some time before he was due to fly down into Linkon, yet every time felt longer than the last. To you, at least. It was the highlight of your month, knowing he would be around. Walking through Bloomshore together, pointing out sights you’re well-accustomed to, but enjoy every time because you’re with him. Sometimes, you’ll notice little things you miss along the way, and he’ll tease you about the finer things in life.

Caleb fondly returns your confession, as kind as ever. “I miss you too, silly.” A moment of comfortable silence passes, before he asks, “Isn’t it late? You should get some rest.”

You chew your lip, eyes wandering off to the night sky beyond cool glass. He wasn’t wrong, but you weren’t ready to let him go just yet. And you still have another curiosity seeking its answer. “Stay on the line until I fall asleep?”

“I can never say no to you,” he says in acquiescence. You inwardly cheer at the victory. “But… Ah, could you give me like, five minutes?”

You hypothetical pom-poms pause their feathery shakes at his request. “For?” It isn’t that you are unwilling, but your curiosity only increases tenfold.

“I didn’t finish,” he mumbles, quick and low in its delivery. He was more so speaking to himself, but you caught the faint breath all the same.

“Finish what?” You question. “Caleb, I can’t hear you if you talk like that.”

“I was in the middle of a session,” Caleb quickly answers. “There, I said it. Now you know.”

Oh. A session. That was the last thing you were expecting to hear. The puzzle pieces finally make sense then—his breathless entrance, and shuffling that most definitely wasn’t laundry. Then, surely, the snap must have been, “Your underwear?” You finish your spoken train of thoughts in surprise.

“Way to put me on the spot,” he awkwardly chuckles, before clearing his throat once more. “Look, I’ll call you back once I’m done—“

“Stay,” you say. Though, it takes everything in you to speak without wavering to reveal the heat quickly budding in your body. You press your legs together instead, hoping the suppression would tame you some. “And let me hear it.”

Caleb nearly chokes on his saliva.

“You—You’re joking, right?”

“I didn’t stutter,” you tell him. “I’ll help you through it. After all, I’m the one who interrupted your precious alone time.”

“Okay,” he murmurs in thought. Then in acceptance, “Okay, fine. I’ll entertain you for now, but promise to sleep after.”

“Promise.”

Even when it was concerning his manhood, he still had it in him to put your well-being into foremost consideration. How thoughtful. Sweet even, if it weren’t for the direly lewd context of the matter.

You didn’t have the patience for such kindness, chirping instructions of, “Great. So get to work, yeah? Carefully remove those boxers for me, first.”

“Roger that,” Caleb chuckles. You could make out the snap and slide of a waistband, fabric rustling to be likely thrown aside for tomorrow’s Caleb to deal with.

“Use your dominant hand,” you say, raising your own in thought. “And give yourself some nice, slow strokes from base to tip. Squeeze when you get to the head, just enough to get some pre out.”

“Ah, fuck.” You could hear a faint wetting of his lips before they produce a slick spit, surely coating his palm in preparation. He dutifully follows your words with a moan, and you bite down your own just so you could savor the sounds.

“Talk to me Caleb,” you breathe out in turn. “How does it feel? Where are you right now?”

“My room, just me in here. Need—hah—more, but it’s so good,” he manages between breaths. “Would feel even better if you were here with me.”

“Mhm,” you confirm with a hum. “I bet you’d like that. The way my hands would wrap around your cock, pumping you the way you need.”

He hisses through his teeth, more than pleased at the idea. “You’d look so pretty doing it too.”

You find yourself salivating, fingers itching at the ghosting feeling of such illusory warmth. You wet your lips, your own hands slowly creeping towards the warmth between your legs and past the blanket. It was instinctual, though you couldn’t hide your gasp in time and Caleb snickers.

“Oh? Was that what I think it was?”

You could map out his cheshire grin from the question alone, though you didn't have it in you to deny him. “Not my fault you sound so hot like this,” you sigh, pressing the pads of your fingers in a slow rub. “Thinking about you right now has me all worked up.”

“What, you think about me when you touch yourself?”

The answer is as clear as a cloudless day in Linkon, and a sense of want seeps into your voice. “Can’t help it,” you nearly whine. “Happens ‘cause you’re gone so much.”

“Fuck,” Caleb curses. “Me too, trust me. I’ll be home soon,” he promises, though it fades off into a quiet grunt and strained sighs. “Soon, I’ll be there and you can have me in any way you need me.”

You pray that eventuality becomes your near reality by the time morning comes, even if it was an impossible dream. “You can go faster,” you encourage, increasing your own touches against clothed skin. “Do what you need, I’m right here.”

A slight clunk draws you from the lust hazing your thoughts, a pin of concern dropping into your mind. You ask, “Caleb? You okay over there?”

“Phone was in the way,” he says hurriedly. “Speaker’s on, I need both hands.”

Much to your delight, the audio becomes clearer through the speaker as a result. The slaps of skin every time his hand moves up and down his length, to the faint slick of lubed saliva messily enhancing his strokes—they were all there. But the prettiest sounds of all were the gravelly groans stemming from his throat in perfect harmony.

You think about how his abdomen would contract with every breath, the way his brows knit together in concentration. The luminous glow of his amethyst eyes, their sparkle now overlaid in clouds of unadulterated want. The shapes of his lips when he smiles so sweetly to creating the desperate moans you’ve endeared yourself to the entire call. You miss him, and it hurts.

And how much you crave to hold that image between your fingers, instead of needlessly curling and pressing around the fabrics of clothes and their cotton. Your thighs squeeze instinctively with a particularly drawn out moan from the receiver.

Caleb’s voice lowly calls out to you. “Do you hear it? How my cock aches for you?” As if you weren’t lasered in on the very noises this whole time, only growing feverishly with every pump.

You mewl at his cadence. “I do, oh I do. What I would give to have that cock all for myself, hot and heavy and mine.”

“It’s a shame.” His breaths grew increasingly shallow with every word punched out. “You won’t get to enjoy all this cum I’m about to—haah—give, such a shame.”

Your hands shake, closer to the brink than you once thought. “A-ah, you’re not wrong—!” You fall back against the headboard, shoulders sinking in and legs shifting in ardent need.

“Caleb, are you, please tell me you’re—“

“Close?” He pants, arousal embedded into every breath. “Oh, I have been. Practically leaking and waiting for you to tell me when you want to come.”

Your mind dizzies, his voice the perfect charm that pushes you to the edge of release. “Do it now, please, please, please.” Babbles of direction and your pleasure blur together, unable to hold back and with the trembling of your muscles. “Wanna hear you come for me,” you gently cry out, fingertips circling faster over your surely ruined undergarments. “I’m about to—mmh!”

“Coming for you,” Caleb bites out, relentlessly keeping his pace over his sensitive cock. “Fuck, fuck. So much, it’s a mess, ah fuck.”

Your name draws out into a long and decadent moan when he releases, burning into the phone’s static and shooting straight to your heart. The melody sends you spiraling into a wave of bliss, coming undone with just haphazard touches and the vision of his creamy release painting his hands white.

His panting and your own begin to even out in the following silence. Clarity wipes at your muddled thoughts, though Caleb was the first to speak up.

“Hey,” he says softly.

You meet him with the same tone, a small laugh to your calling. “Hi.”

“Feeling alright?”

“Mm. More importantly, are you good?”

Caleb’s chipper reply gives you confirmation. “I’m pretty sure you heard me a few minutes ago.” Another rustle and creak later, you hear his footsteps padding his words. “Need to clean up. You should too, right? Surely it’s not comfortable to be in soaked underwear before bed.”

You gasp, feeling exposed and instinctively pull at your blanket. A poor shield at the moment, if anything. “How did you know I kept them on?”

“I didn’t,” he plainly says. “But now I know.” You could hear him smirking in glee, only growing further when you bemoan the circumstances.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh all you want, I’m changing out of them.” You slide off of the bed, shuffling footsteps towards your dresser. Out with the old to the laundry basket and in with the new, you return to the pillows and exhale.

“In bed now?” Caleb asks. He lets out a soft laugh when all you do is grumble a response. “Alright. Promise is a promise, I’ll stay on call until you really hit the hay.”

“M’kay,” you mumble through pursed lips, before bringing the screen to them and planting a soft kiss.

You don’t recall much of what happened afterwards. Only your hushed whispers and Caleb’s gentle voice going on about aviation and work mishaps fill your lingering consciousness. Soon enough, it lulls you into a dream of clouds, where bright eyes of amethyst awaited you with open arms.

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hitoshitoshi · 4 months ago

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Photo [Caleb x GenderNeutral!Reader 18+]

Caleb keeps a photo of you with him at all times while he's away. What he does with it you might ask? He brings your photo around with him like people do with nuis. He takes you with him on a walk, to a cafe, to restaurants, up in the air with him when he's on flights. He puts your photo on a pillow next to him when he sleeps, and kisses it good night and good morning. Caleb loves his pipsqueak so much that it hurts. What else does Caleb with that picture of you is jerk off with it, pretending that your pretty lips are around his leaking tip as he fucks into your mouth since he knows that you'd let him do anything to you. Everytime he cums, he makes sure his cum hits directly on your face. it's his own little "I love you" because he can't wait to be together with you again. Caleb is insatiable when it comes to you.

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rose-tinted-kalopsia · 9 months ago

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≡;-꒰ 𝐋&𝐃𝐒 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 𝑨𝒍𝒑𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒆𝒕 (𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕)

╰┈➤ ❝ headcanon series | l&ds side characters | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

general tags : afab!reader, vaginal sex, foreplay, dirty talk, cursing, variety of kinks, aftercare, etc. (template here for your reference!)

an : more self-indulgence from yours truly, aka the extent of roxie's love for side characters...

nsfw a-z headcanons with the love and deepspace side characters 🤍

ᴄᴀʟᴇʙ ᰔ : link

ᴊᴇɴɴᴀ ᰔ : link

ᴊᴇʀᴇᴍɪᴀʜ ᰔ : link

ʟᴜᴋᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴋɪᴇʀᴀɴ ᰔ : link

ᴛʜᴏᴍᴀꜱ ᰔ : link

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shomatoriashi · 3 months ago

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10/02/24; 11:16pm

{ 18+ drabbles / headcanons }

[ evenings spent with them ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel, caleb

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

when night fell across the n109 zone and you were safely tucked away within sylus’s room, the sounds of your moans were thinly veiled, and anyone from a mere feet away could hear what was going on.

with each thrust, sylus shamelessly worked on pounding himself in and out of you, basking in the sensation of your slick heat surrounding him. his deep voice whispers hedonistic phrases within your ear, sending shivers down your spine. your toes were felt curling in response to each and every one of sylus’s passionate movements, making you lose count of the sheer amount of times you had came so beautifully around his cock.

when sylus suddenly pulls out of you, whines of protest were heard coming from you. you could feel the way your nails clawed at the sheets with tears of frustration streaming down your cheeks. however, sylus doesn’t leave you hanging for long when he flips you over, placing you on the flat of your abdomen before pushing himself inside of your wet cunt from behind.

by now, your mind reverts back to running on pure instinct when the powerful leader thrusts his cock in and out of you, seeming to reach even deeper than before. letting out deep grunts of your name, sylus picks you up by your waist, praising you on how well you were taking him and and how you would always be his pretty little princess. words proved to be useless the moment you and sylus both chased your highs, never once stopping until you were both satisfied.

due to how stressful zayne’s job can be, he was long overdue for some… activities that could help relieve his stress. those sleepless nights spent working at the hospital kept piling up, and you reached your breaking point the moment zayne fially returned to you a week later.

you had intercepted him as he was taking a shower, stroking his cock to full hardness with your hands and your mouth, worshipping him like he was your god and savior. you ignored the hot water streaming down your face, completely and utterly focused on pleasuring the man you loved.

his grunts of your name continued to urge you onwards, and when you felt the familiar twitch happen within the confines of your hot mouth, you were more than ready to drink up all that he had to offer.

but when he suddenly pulls his stiff cock away from you, you were in a daze. what you didn’t expect was for zayne to pin you against the slick, shower walls before swiftly entering your cunt with such precision that it had you seeing stars.

your loud moan echoes throughout the shower stall, with your legs automatically spreading even wider for him as zayne pumped his cock in and out of your slick heat, quickly becoming addicted to the sensation of your slick walls wrapped so tightly around his throbbing cock.

it takes the young hunter a herculean effort to remain still, panting while digging his head within the plush pillows. his hands were felt gripping below his sheets while his dilated eyes never once looked away from you.

to xavier, you were by far the loveliest woman he had ever met, and through some miracle, you returned his feelings. all those precious memories were treasures that xavier would forever cherish-

and this moment was no different.

to see your features twisted in pleasure while you eagerly bounced up and down his cock was making him feel a plethora of emotions. he had long lost count of the times you had came so sweetly on his cock-

but truthfully, he didn’t care.

all that mattered was that he was the sole reason you were feeling so good.

“hah…” your sweet moans echo throughout the air, and your thrusts became even more desperate as you tossed your head back, earning a loud groan from xavier when your movements suddenly made the bed begin to bounce and squeak. he could feel the way your hands remained on his broad chest, digging into his skin as you continue to ride him with the intention of milking him dry.

if xavier thought that it would be difficult to hold himself back from emptying his cock completely into your cunt before, then it was a whole new challenge now, with you riding him with such a renewed passion that made his head spin.

there was something a little embarrassing yet so hot at seeing yourself getting fucked by your boyfriend while in front of a large mirror.

the young artist tells you that he had purchased this mirror with the sole purpose of using it with you, eyes glowing with a hint of desire and mischief as he explained his plans to you.

rafayel had somehow convinced you to do this with him, stating that seeing your gorgeously nude form from all angles (with the help of the mirror, of course) was enough to get his creative juices flowing. you were hesitant at first, yet slowly managed to cave in the moment rafayel settles your naked body on his lap.

with you both situated in front of the mirror, you felt the heat dye your cheeks, watching every movement in front of you. rafayel gently demands that you don’t look away from the mirror, forcing you to watch the way his long fingers explores your pussy lips, spreading your legs wide with a knowing smile.

and despite how embarrassed you felt, you couldn’t deny that this was a huge turn on for you. with your arms wrapped around rafayel’s head, you arch your back against him, allowing him to swiftly enter your cunt from this new position.

“that’s it… that’s my pretty girl.” rafayel helps you bounce yourself up and down his cock, his heated gaze never once looking away from the mirror as he whispered heated praises against your ear.

wanting nothing more than to reach heaven with him, you shamelessly move your cunt up and down his cock, allowing your juices to travel down his shaft as the squelching sounds of your lovemaking pushes you forward…

sleep had long since evaded you the moment you felt caleb’s half hardened cock rubbing against your backside. you let out a soft moan, feeling just as needy for him as he clearly was for you the moment he manages to slide his cock within the confines of your panties.

the intense friction was enough to make you tremble in response, feeling his cock run back and forth, teasing your outer pussy lips, but never once entering inside of you.

you kept begging him to just take you already-

yet your lover proves to be a patient man if nothing else.

only when he could feel your honeyed arousal begin to stain and drip at the sheets did he finally lift up your leg. the mushroom tip of his cock teases your opening for a few moments before fully entering you from behind you. he uses his strength to keep you in this position, making gasps and breathy moans escape from you when he manages to thrust his cock in and out of you from this new angle.

the feeling of being stuffed so fully with his cock makes your head begin to spin from the sheer amount of pleasure of it all, and the only words you could utter were caleb’s name, calling out to him like a never-ending mantra.

filled with a desperation for him, you begin to move with him as well, meeting his thrusts in a downward motion as caleb begins to let out a string of curse. with his lips felt prodding at the back of your neck, he presses several heated kisses against your skin, continuing to fuck you against the bed while working on chasing both of your highs well into the early hours of dawn…

end notes: you ever felt so thirsty that you just wanted to write a fic that got straight to the ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ing? well, this was that fic for me.

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

#sylus smut #zayne smut #xavier smut #rafayel smut #caleb smut #sylus x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #caleb x reader #sylus x you #zayne x you #xavier x you #rafayel x you #caleb x you #lads smut #lnds smut #l&ds smut #writings 📖

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hellinistical · 15 days ago

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fem! reader x rafayel. royal! au. sea horror! au. heavy angst. minor and major character death. slow burn. romance. fluff. explicit smut. trauma. religious themes. gore; hinted torture, cannibalism, decapitation, self-cannibalism. violence wc: 3962 a/n: finals are over so back to updating :)

IV: RICH RED SOIL

The wheels creaked loud enough to be heard from the inside of the carriage. Y/n’s stomach twisted as the carriage rattled forward, the scent of sweat and fear clinging to the heavy air inside. The other girls packed tightly together, each wearing the same expression of tense resignation. No one spoke; their faces were drawn, eyes flitting between each other and the curtained windows as if answers lay somewhere outside.

Y/n tried to ignore the leftover taste of the roast clinging to her tongue, a reminder of her mother’s desperate insistence and the reality of what lay ahead. She swallowed hard, pressing her forehead against the cool glass pane, hoping it might ease the rising nausea. The muted rhythm of the wheels on the cobblestones should have been calming, but it felt like a countdown instead, each clack taking them further from their homes and closer to whatever fate awaited.

One of the girls beside her, a frail brunette with wide eyes, fidgeted with the hem of her dress. She kept glancing nervously at Y/n as if wanting to say something but unsure of where to start. Y/n finally turned to her, giving a slight nod of encouragement.

“Do… do you think it’s true?” the girl whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the wheels. “The stories… about the sacrifices?”

Y/n tried to keep her expression steady, though she felt a flicker of dread deep inside. She didn’t know what was true and what was fiction anymore. But as she looked at the girl, she forced herself to keep her voice calm.

“They’re just stories to scare us, aren’t they?” Y/n murmured, more for her own benefit than anyone else’s. “I’m sure the capital has better things to do than… that.”

The girl’s lips trembled into a small, hopeful smile. “I… I hope you’re right.”

Y/n settled back against the window, though her pulse was still racing. The cloth draped over the carriage windows dimmed the interior, casting everything in muted shadows. It made the cramped space feel even smaller, the dark corners pressing in on them like a heavy weight. She shifted uncomfortably, wishing she could pull back the curtain to see where they were going, but the guards had made it clear: the windows stayed covered.

The faint flickers of light that managed to seep through the fabric only teased at the passing scenery outside. Was it still farmland, or had they reached the outskirts of the capital? She couldn’t tell, and that uncertainty gnawed at her. Y/n’s reflection faintly mirrored back at her on the glass pane—her face pale, her freckles standing out like constellations against the dim light. She stared at herself for a long moment, wondering what the capital had planned for her.

The hushed sniffles of one of the girls nearby broke the silence, and the sound tightened the knot in her chest. Y/n turned her head slightly, her gaze flicking to the others. The frail brunette from before had drawn her knees to her chest, clutching the fabric of her skirt tightly in her fists, her lips pressed into a thin line to keep from sobbing aloud.

Another girl, with golden hair braided neatly over her shoulder, stared blankly at her lap, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the hem of her dress as though in a trance.

If anything, the sound of sniffles was annoying.

Y/n’s nerves were already taut, and the incessant whimpering only added to the stifling discomfort.

Across from her, Harlow Bianchi seemed to think so, too. The tall, sharp-eyed girl leaned forward, her lips pressed into a thin line of irritation. Finally, she snapped, “Will you get a hold of yourself, or do you want them to hear you crying?”

The frail brunette immediately shrank into herself, her sniffles cutting off abruptly, though her wide, watery eyes darted nervously toward the carriage door, as if expecting a guard to burst in at any moment. Harlow rolled her eyes, leaning back against the carriage wall. “Honestly,” she muttered under her breath, “as if the rest of us aren’t already miserable enough.”

Y/n glanced sideways at Harlow, unsure if she wanted to thank her for the silence or curse her for the coldness. Harlow caught her eye and raised a brow, her smirk sharp and humorless. “What? Don’t tell me you feel sorry for her.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Y/n replied flatly, but her jaw tightened.

Harlow scoffed, crossing her arms. “Good. Because pity’s not going to get anyone out of this mess.” Her voice dropped lower, though it carried the same biting edge. “If you think the capital cares about tears, you’re fooling yourself.”

Y/n turned her gaze back to the window, pressing her forehead against the cool glass. Harlow wasn’t wrong, but her words only added to the knot in Y/n’s stomach. The capital didn’t care about their tears or their fears.

"Jerk," Y/n mumbled under her breath, just loud enough to voice her frustration but not loud enough for Harlow to hear. She didn’t want to get into it with the baker’s daughter—especially not now, when everyone was already packed like sardines in the cramped, stifling carriage, and the mood was about as cheerful as a funeral march.

Harlow didn’t seem to notice—or maybe she just didn’t care. She sat with her arms crossed and her legs stretched as far as the limited space would allow, exuding an air of indifference that grated on Y/n’s nerves. Across from them, the brunette was still sniffling softly, her tears now silent but persistent, and a pale blonde girl next to her patted her arm half-heartedly as though she wasn’t sure what else to do.

Y/n shifted uncomfortably, pressing her back against the wooden panel of the carriage. She stared at the cloth covering the window, trying to focus on the faint light filtering through it rather than the oppressive closeness of the space or the lingering taste of the roast sitting uneasily in her stomach.

Her thoughts drifted to home, to her family. Were they okay? Did Caleb leave, or was he still sulking somewhere in the barn? She frowned. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to think about Caleb, her mother, or her father’s worn face as he tried to stay strong for her. Not now. Not when she had no idea where she was being taken or what the capital would demand of her.

The carriage hit a bump, jolting everyone inside. Harlow cursed under her breath, and one of the other girls yelped, gripping the side of the seat as if that might stabilize her.

“Could they drive any worse?” Harlow muttered, shooting a glare toward the front of the carriage as though the guards could hear her through the thick wooden walls.

“Probably,” Y/n replied dryly, earning herself a brief, surprised glance from Harlow. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to break the tension, if only for a moment.

"LET ME OUT!" the brunette suddenly screamed, her fists pounding against the carriage door. The confined space seemed to amplify the sound, making everyone flinch. Before she could cry out again, Harlow leaned over and slapped a hand over the girl’s mouth with a sharp, resounding pop, silencing her. "Shut the hell up!" Harlow hissed, her eyes blazing with irritation. But before anyone could say another word, the carriage jolted violently, throwing the girls against each other as it screeched to an abrupt halt. The unmistakable sound of hooves clattering and muffled voices shouting outside followed.

“Fuck,” Harlow muttered under her breath, glancing toward the door as if expecting it to burst open at any second. She took her hand off of the girl’s mouth, wiping it off on her skirt in disgust.

Heavy boots thudded outside, the sound drawing closer. The blonde froze mid-sob, her wild eyes darting toward the door as though she’d only just realized what she’d done. The other girls sat motionless, tension thick in the air, their breaths held in terrified anticipation.

The door creaked open, revealing one of the guards, his expression stony and unimpressed. “What the hell is going on in here?” he barked, his voice sharp enough to make the blonde flinch.

The blonde shrank back into her seat, her head bowed, but the guard wasn’t having it. He stepped into the carriage, his presence making the cramped space feel even smaller, and scanned the girls with a steely gaze.

“You think this is a game?” he growled, his eyes locking on the blonde. “You want to make this harder for everyone? Do it again, and I’ll make sure you’re gagged for the rest of the trip.”

“Please, I’m sorry,” she stammered, her voice trembling. “I just— I didn’t—”

“Enough.” His tone was final. He straightened, glancing at the rest of the girls. “Anyone else feel like causing problems?”

No one said a word.

“That’s what I thought.” He stepped back out of the carriage and slammed the door shut behind him. A moment later, the carriage lurched forward again, throwing everyone back against their seats.

For a while, no one spoke. The blonde sat hunched over, silently crying, while the rest of the girls avoided looking at her.

“Great,” Harlow muttered under her breath, breaking the silence. “As if this wasn’t bad enough already.”

Outside of the carriage, they can hear the men complaining about the brunette "That Miss Lindsey is pretty as a bird but god is she whiny." Outside the carriage, the muffled voices of the guards filtered through the walls, their conversation clear enough to hear over the clatter of wheels on the dirt road. “That Miss Lindsey is pretty as a bird,” one of them grumbled, his tone laced with irritation. “But gods, is she whiny. Makes me wanna rip my ears off.” A chuckle followed.

“You’d think with a face like that, she’d have more sense to keep her mouth shut.” “Pretty don’t fix stupid,” the first guard muttered. “If it did, this trip would be a lot quieter.” The second guard laughed.

“Betcha she’ll be the first one to cry when they see the Capitol. Always the loud ones that fall apart the fastest.” Their words stung even from behind the cloth-covered window, making Y/n’s stomach churn. She glanced at Lindsey, who sat trembling and pale, her hands clenched tightly in her lap.

The blonde was still silently crying, her tears slipping down her flushed cheeks. Whether she’d heard the guards’ cruel remarks was unclear, but the atmosphere in the carriage was heavy with discomfort.

“Assholes,” Harlow muttered, her arms crossed as she leaned against the side of the carriage. Y/n bit her lip, unsure of whether to feel pity for Lindsey or annoyance at how her outburst had painted a target on all their backs.

Y/n shifted uncomfortably, her gaze flickering between the sobbing blonde and the others. The words from the guards were cruel, but there was something about them that made her feel uneasy. They weren’t wrong, though—Lindsey had made an already difficult situation worse, but that didn’t mean she deserved to be mocked.

The carriage jolted again, and the sounds of the guards grew fainter, but the weight of their words lingered in the air, hanging over the girls like a storm cloud. Y/n felt a tightening in her chest, a deep frustration that made her want to scream, but she knew better than to give into it. There was nothing to be gained from making noise, nothing to change.

"Assholes," Harlow repeated, though her tone had softened a little, like she was trying to calm herself. She flicked a glance toward the rest of the girls, her sharp eyes scanning the group.

"Keep your head down," she added quietly to Y/n, leaning in close. "We're all in the same mess, and the last thing we need is to start a fight among ourselves."

Y/n gave a small nod, but her thoughts were elsewhere. The weight of what was coming—the Capitol, the uncertainty, the fear—had settled in her gut like a stone. What would it be like when they finally arrived? What kind of people would they meet? What kind of future awaited them all in that foreign place?

Her fingers curled tightly into the fabric of her dress as she tried to block out the conversation of the guards and the sounds of Lindsey’s muffled sobs. She couldn’t think about that. Not now. Not when it was still too far away, still too unknown.

"Caleb’s an idiot," Y/n muttered to herself, more to focus her thoughts than anything else.

But it was true. Even if he had given her the ring, it wasn’t going to change anything.

***

After 2 hours, Lindsey's sniffles faltered for a moment, and she looked up, her tear-streaked face a mixture of surprise and hurt. The other girls in the carriage shifted uncomfortably, the tension growing thicker with each passing minute. Y/n's words hung in the air, her frustration too loud and raw to ignore.

"I said, shut it," Y/n repeated, her voice sharper now. She was past the point of caring about appearances or keeping the peace. The sound of Lindsey’s constant sniffling was grating on her nerves, and the weight of the situation was starting to crush her patience.

Lindsey wiped her face with a trembling hand, her lips quivering. "I—I’m sorry," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper, but the quiet sobs started again almost immediately, quieter this time.

Y/n let out a frustrated breath and leaned back against the carriage wall. She hadn’t meant to snap, but the relentless tension in the cramped space, the discomfort of the journey, and the impending sense of doom were all catching up with her. The guards’ earlier words still echoed in her mind. She wondered if they thought they were all going to break the same way—if they thought all the girls were just fragile, easily crushed beneath the weight of whatever was waiting for them in the Capitol.

"Gods, if I wanted to hear all this crying, I’d have stayed back in Linkon if I could," Y/n muttered, more to herself than to anyone else.

A quiet silence fell over the carriage, the kind that made the air feel thick. Y/n’s mind raced with thoughts of the unknown, of what would happen when they reached their destination. Her chest felt tight, and though the anger at Lindsey was still there, it seemed small compared to the dread that had settled deep inside her.

At the edge of the silence, Harlow’s voice broke through. "Save it for when we get there, Y/n. We’re all stuck here, and none of us know what’s coming next. Might as well keep our heads down for now."

Y/n shot Harlow a quick glance, but she nodded in agreement. She didn’t want to start a fight that could only make things worse. She wasn’t sure what it was about the other girl’s tone—something almost sympathetic, something that made her feel like she wasn’t alone in this miserable situation.

The moments dragged on in silence, the only sound now the rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels on the road, the occasional sniffle from Lindsey, and the muffled voices of the guards outside.

***

The landscape outside the carriage was bleak, a barren stretch of land that seemed to go on forever under the grey sky. The road they traveled on was a worn dirt path, riddled with potholes and ruts, making every bump feel like a sharp jolt to the bones. Dust rose in clouds behind them, settling over the carriage like a thin veil that blurred everything in its wake.

On either side of the road, sparse trees stood like forgotten sentinels, their branches bare, stripped of leaves by the harsh winds that blew across the open plains. There were no fields of crops or signs of life; only a few scraggly bushes and dry grasses clung to the earth. The land had an unwelcoming, desolate feel to it—empty, lifeless, as if it had long ago given up hope of seeing anything but the occasional passerby.

In the distance, dark hills loomed on the horizon, their tops barely visible beneath the heavy cloud cover that hung low in the sky. The clouds themselves were thick and oppressive, casting the world in a perpetual state of twilight, dimming the already muted landscape even further. The light that filtered through them was pale, as if the sun had lost its strength, struggling to break through the gloom.

As the carriage continued forward, the wind picked up, sending dry dust swirling around them. The smell of the earth was stale, mingling with the faint scent of the horses and the musty air inside the carriage. It was a landscape that seemed to suck all color from the world, leaving only shades of brown and grey. There was no sign of the vibrant world they had left behind in Linkon, no warmth or life to be found. Just the cold, harsh expanse leading them somewhere they didn’t want to go.

Just south of the carriage, a storm was gathering, its ominous presence impossible to ignore. The dark and swollen clouds seemed to churn with unnatural speed, twisting and folding into themselves like a living thing. The air grew heavier, thick with the promise of something violent. A faint rumble of thunder echoed in the distance, the first signs of what was quickly becoming a full-blown tempest.

As the storm surged, the wind began to howl, pushing the branches of the few remaining trees into frantic motions. Once a dull gray, the sky now darkened into an almost oppressive black, casting long shadows across the barren land. The edges of the clouds began to pulse with erratic flashes of lightning, brief but blinding as they illuminated the rolling hills below.

If Y/n could have seen through the cloth blocking her view, she would have noticed how the storm seemed to grow with every passing moment, sweeping across the land, sending dust and debris into the air like a prelude to a much larger chaos. The wind began to pick up, tugging at the fabric of the carriage and making the wheels creak as they spun through the uneven road.

The carriage creaked under the weight of its passengers, the sudden tension outside palpable as the storm rumbled closer. Y/n could hear the voices of the guards through the thin cloth, their conversation drowned out by the heavy wind that now howled through the trees. The distant flashes of lightning added an eerie glow to the landscape, but it was the storm itself—its raw power—that was starting to make her feel uneasy.

The guards’ calm dismissal of the weather only made the unease worse. They weren’t worried. But Y/n could sense something was wrong. The winds felt like they were building up, preparing for something violent to break.

The soil outside turned a dull red as the rain began to fall in steady droplets. It wasn’t heavy yet, but the land itself seemed to be reacting to the weather, the earth growing darker as if absorbing the rain in slow, deliberate swallows. The air smelled of damp soil and something metallic like the world itself was holding its breath.

Luke, the man at the reins, had glanced back towards the carriage, his brow furrowed with indecision. The hesitation in his voice when he asked if they should stop suggested that even he was starting to feel the weight of the atmosphere. But the guards, wrapped in their practicality, continued to push forward, determined to reach their destination on time.

"Keep going," one of the guards snapped, his voice sharp against the low growls of thunder. "The capital’s close, and we’re not stopping until we get there."

The winds howled louder as the carriage lurched forward, but the guards' determination remained unshaken. One of them, perhaps more eager than the others, chimed in with a casual tone, almost dismissive of the brewing storm.

"Right. We made good progress. We'll probably even get lucky and get there before the end of the month!" His voice rang with a sort of reckless optimism, though it didn't quite reach the eyes of the other guards, who were now glancing nervously at the skies.

Inside the carriage, the rhythmic motion of the wheels against the road and the hum of the wind outside lulled most of the girls into a sleepy haze. The constant rattling seemed to blend with the soft murmurs of voices, and soon, the atmosphere inside was thick with a quiet lethargy. Even the girls who had been fidgeting or whispering moments earlier were now resting, their eyes fluttering shut, unaware of the growing tension around them.

Y/n, however, remained alert. She wasn’t tired, not after the emotional weight of the past days, and the unsettling energy of the journey kept her wide-eyed. Her gaze flicked between the girls, their faces softened by sleep and the distant outline of the storm that loomed just beyond the windows.

The air in the carriage was stale, thick with the scent of damp fabric and the faint hint of fear. But despite everything, there was a quiet hum of resignation—of girls who had no choice but to sit in silence and let the storm, both outside and inside, unfold. The dark clouds that loomed beyond seemed to mirror the thoughts in her mind—heaviness, uncertainty, and an unsettling sense of foreboding.

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat as an unfamiliar sensation washed over her. It felt as though something was tugging at the very core of her being, pulling her in an invisible direction. Her chest tightened, and a heavy weight settled there as though a string was drawn tight across her ribs. The feeling was sudden and all-consuming, forcing her to clutch the side of the seat for support.

Her eyes darted around the carriage, looking for any explanation, but nothing seemed amiss. The other girls were still asleep, their faces relaxed and unaware. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to shake off the sensation, but it only seemed to grow stronger.

Was it the journey? Was it the tension of what was to come? No. This was something else. Something that felt familiar, yet distant—like an invisible hand reaching out to her, pulling her toward a place she didn’t understand.

She swallowed hard, trying to steady her breath. Her mind raced, images flashing in her mind of the sea, of the storm, of something deep beneath the waves, but nothing made sense.

With a quiet gasp, she steadied herself against the pull in her chest. The feeling was impossible to ignore.

Y/n pounded her chest a couple of times, frustration mounting as the sensation continued to gnaw at her. It felt as if something—or someone—was pulling her, dragging her towards the sea, towards something that had always been just out of reach but never this intense. The pressure tightened, making it harder to breathe. She leaned forward, clutching her knees, as though trying to steady herself against the invisible force.

"Get a grip," she muttered under her breath, her voice low and strained. She looked around, half-expecting someone to notice her discomfort, but the other girls remained asleep, oblivious to her inner turmoil. She shifted in her seat, trying to get comfortable, but it was useless. The feeling was unrelenting, and it seemed to grow stronger with every passing second.

In desperate frustration, she slammed her fist against the side of the carriage, hoping for some relief, but it only made her chest tighter.

Why now? Why this feeling in the middle of this godforsaken trip?

As she sank back into her seat, she squeezed her eyes shut.

And the red soil got richer with the rain.

78 notes · View notes

lalunanymph · 15 days ago

Text

SNAP AND BREAK

SYNOPSIS you piss caleb off by going on a risky mission so he makes you pay. dearly.

WARNINGS caleb x fem!reader, fights, arguments, tension, misunderstandings, secret relationship, pseudo-cest, punishment, unprotected sex, improper use of evol, gagging, cockwarming, restraints, bondage, bdsm scene, size difference, verbal humiliation, pussy job, dirty talk, multiple positions, orgasm edging, orgasm control, orgasm denial, nipple play, marking, biting, forgiveness, aftercare

DAWN SAYS another one for the cfgc <3 caleb punish me challenge mode: extremely hard. also, big thanks to bb vienna for tossing back some ideas and helping me shape up this bad boy ❤️

x / a03

It’s not often Caleb comes home for the holidays, and when he does, you want to make sure everything’s perfect for him.

Sweat dots your brow, dripping down your neck as you spring around the house like a frantic OTTO-PHO, cleaning every inch of your old home and picking up after any mess left behind. With Gran in elderly care and your childhood friend stuck in Skyhaven, the onus is on you to keep the space spick-and-span—a duty you sorely neglected due to your erratic mission schedule.

Damn it, you scowl, glancing at the clock. It’s already 9PM… Caleb could be home anytime soon…

Huffing, you bring out a box of Christmas lights, completely entangled together in a wiry mess, and you groan at the thought of spending hours trying to get one end loose from the other. Sure, Christmas Eve is a time for families to gather together and enjoy the festivities with merriment, food and one too many glasses of bourbon, but as much as you would love to spend time with Caleb on his rare days back in Linkon, there’s a lingering thought in the back of your mind, connected right to the Hunter’s watch on your wrist.

As you check through the notifs, you miss the front door clicking open, the soft scuffle of boots on the wooden floor only reaching your distracted ears when the person was a few feet from you. Despite your wicked fast reflexes, Caleb is quicker, caging you in his arms, pulling you tightly to his chest as his boyish laughter grazes your ears.

“Really, pipsqueak? Being distracted could cost you some Hunter brownie points.”

“Caleb!” you squeal, whirling around and smacking his chest, your eyes sparkling at the sight of him. “When did you get here?! I didn’t even hear your bike.”

He releases his grip on your waist, spinning you to face him, taking you in with his warm gaze. You didn’t miss the dark circles under his eyes, stress-induced from nights in a world so far above the ground, with secrets you sense he could never tell you.

“Guess someone was more distracted than I gave her credit for,” he teases, ignoring your probing gaze.

You tighten your grip on his arm, and pull him closer, scrutinizing him from head to toe. “And you look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“Jeez,” he worms out of your grasp, though his cheery disposition remains unflappable. “Are you trying to steal my thunder? I’m the one that’s supposed to be the nagger, not the other way around. And you look like you’re short of a few days of sleep, too, Pips.”

It never surprises you how at ease he makes you feel. Banter and laughter flow freely between Caleb and you, and where words fall short, the silence remains warm and companionable. The scent of food is in the air, and you take a moment to inhale the fragrance of warm bread leaving the pan greedily. Caleb makes your favorite baozi, the sweet dough mingling with the succulent fattiness of the pork belly sandwiched between the two buns melting on your tongue, sending sparks of serotonin straight to the pleasure center of your brain.

He watches you eat with a twinkle in his eye. “Good?”

"Heavenly,” you practically moan, and take another bite. You miss his eyes darkening, the quick aversion of his gaze from your blissed-out face.

“Mhm. Glad you love it,” he raps the table with his knuckles and stands, focused on the tasks ahead. “We’ll pick up Gran from the care center tomorrow and return home. Can I trust you with the turkey, Pips?”

You nod, dusting your fingers free from crumbs and standing, too. “Got it. Turkey. What about the cupcakes?”

“Oh, I can get them delivered. Don’t worry,” he reassures with a grin. “Wouldn’t want Gran to worry about us stuck in Christmas traffic.”

He’s got a point. When Christmas Eve arrives, the streets of Linkon bustle with throngs of bodies hurrying down the sidewalks, a sense of urgency and excitement in the air. You’re carrying the turkey back to your bike when a familiar vibration on your wrist pulls your attention from strapping the bird tightly into your rear basket, and your heart falls when you see the fluctuation pattern.

Wanderers.

Your mind rushes with the implications of what comes next, and in your ear, the ever-present comm beeps, Nero’s voice on the other end briefing Team Alpha.

“... interrupt Christmas break… urgent deployment to Chansia City—team of explorers—Caves—”

It comes in bits and pieces. You’re struggling to listen while kicking your bike into gear, revving back home to pack for the overnight mission.

“Nero, slow down—which part is overrun?” Jenna demands, her voice crisp from the other end of the line.

“—Chapel Bay. We need reinforcements—”

Kicking up dirt in your wake, you zip back home, arriving in time for Caleb to poke his head past the door, his greeting dying on his lips when he sees the tension radiating off you in waves.

“Pipsqueak, what’s wrong—?”

There’s no time to consider softening the blow when an entire neighborhood is at risk of being wiped out by Wanderers.

“I just got a call to go to Chansia. There’s been a huge Wanderer attack.” You pry the turkey from your bike’s rear basket and hand it to him, sprinting back into the house to pack when a tight grip on your wrist stops you.

“Slow down, Pipsqueak,” Caleb urges, his eyes wide with trepidation. “Did you just say Chansia?”

You nod, and something in his expression darkens.

“You can’t go.”

“Wh—?”

Before you can protest, Caleb slams the front door closed, barricading it with his broader build. “Pips, that area is certified Wanderer territory after the Profield Fall six months ago. Going there would be signing your death sentence .”

His words ring in your mind, leaving behind a tremor of fear. But, your stubbornness and need to help takes precedence over whatever hesitation you might feel, and you shake your head.

“Caleb, it’s my job—”

“ Y/N, please.”

No Pipsqueak, Pips, or short stack …

Your eyes widen as the realization hits you square in the chest. Caleb is completely serious about this. You take a step back when he corners you against the wall, those amethyst eyes shining with a desperate plea for you to listen to him—just this once.

“Trust me when I say this—the DAA knows what’s going on there and we’ve escalated it to Zone Three status. You could die there, Y/N—”

“Caleb, I can’t just leave my team behind!”

He swallows hard, crossing his arms and in a tone brokering no argument, he utters: “Give me Captain Jenna’s number right now.”

You gape at him, wondering if he’s lost his mind. “ Are you trying to get me fired? ”

“Family code for the Hunter’s Association means family members can refuse to allow a Hunter to serve—”

“Now you’re just making things up!”

Your cheeks burn hotly with indignation, eyes narrowing at the sight of his wilful glare. Deep down, Caleb is just worried for you, his overprotective big brother tendencies leaving him resolutely firm on not allowing you to go. But, you’re not a kid anymore, and this is the duty you swore to uphold. Family or not, Caleb has no right to stop you from leaving.

“No,” you reiterate, standing your ground. “Caleb, this is unacceptable. You can’t just dictate when I can do my job just like that!”

“Oh, I can and I will.”

You feel a firm tug around your waist, and to your horror, his Evol snatches your phone from deep inside your pants pocket. “Hey—!”

He holds it above your head, no longer goofing around like he usually does when he teases you like this; expression serious and unyielding. “Tell me your phone password now.”

You seethe, wondering if he’s lost his mind. “Absolutely not!” Palm to his chest, he grunts, feeling the first stirrings of your Resonance piercing through the atoms binding his telekinesis together, goading him to explode. He grabs your wrist with the other hand, a mutinous and unfamiliar glare twisting his mouth into a sneer.

“Oh, don’t even think about using your Evol on me, little missy.” With a staggering strength you thought he would never use on you, Caleb drags you closer, pressing your thumb on the phone’s biometric sensor. It lights up and your phone unlocks, leaving him privy to your contacts.

In one swift motion, you kick him right in the bend of his knee, knocking him off balance. Caleb yelps and the turkey you so carefully transported back home goes crashing to the ground along with his knees hitting the carpet. Moving fluidly, you grab his shoulder, restraining his arm behind his back, forcing him to relinquish his grip on your phone where it clatters onto the floor.

“Pips—”

You push your knee right in between his shoulder blades, forcing him to the ground.

Caleb grunts in pain, but you’re too angry to even care about his discomfort.

“How dare you come in the way of my job?” You spit out, increasing the force of your knee into his back. “You have no right, Caleb. None.”

“I was just—”

“What’s going on?!”

You both glance up to find Gran staring at you in horror, frozen in her wheelchair. It’s been years since she saw a fight this bad between you and Caleb—the last one being when you two were angsty teenagers. At the look of dismay on her face, you hesitate and ease up, letting him go. Caleb rises with a derisive scoff, and without a second glance, tosses your phone back to you, remaining indifferent when you fumble to catch it.

“Fine. But, don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you’re going through with this, then I have nothing else to say to you.”

He walks away, his head bent, broad shoulders tense with frustration. You watch him disappear back into the kitchen and glance down at the mess of the turkey scattered on the floor—reminding you of the chaos you’ve brought to what was supposed to be a day of family and celebration. How you single-handedly ruined Christmas Eve.

“Gran, I’m—”

She raises a hand to stop your string of excuses and apologies. “Whatever you need to do, go and do it. Just come back in one piece, dear.”

You glance at the deep set lines of her face, the kindness in her eyes you didn’t deserve. “Could you tell him…?” You trail off, and flicker your gaze to the kitchen. Gran nods, imperceptibly understanding your request.

“I’ll speak to him, don’t you worry.”

Taking one last look at her, you nod and hitch the strap of your purse higher, thoughts already racing on the logistics of returning to the Association base and retrieving your hunting gear. As you straddle your bike, you steal a final glance at the kitchen window, wondering if he could see you pulling away. But, the curtains are drawn, and the lights dim.

Feeling the melancholy of separating on such awful terms with him, you kick up the bike stand and zip down the highway to your unknown fate, ready to fight Wanderers despite how much every fiber in your body was screaming at you to turn around and make things right with Caleb.

Caleb stares at the phone in his hand. It’s been three days since he last heard from you; since he last saw you.

He’s gone through the entire cycle of grief the whole time you’ve been missing from his side: denial that you had the nerve to hurt him after all he’s done for you, anger at the way you dismissed his concerns and complaints about him mother henning you when all he wants is to ensure your safety; bargaining with the voices in his mind to forgive and forget; a crippling depression at the lack of consideration you had for him by not even bothering to reach out and finally acceptance that come what may, you had to return home.

He wouldn’t rest till he sees you again—till he makes sure you’re safe and whole.

But, when the fourth day trickles by with still no sign or contact from you, anxiety gnaws him right to the bone and he can’t focus on anything else but the chirp of his phone, heart pounding wildly and breath hitching as he picks it up, hoping to see the golden notification which will indicate you’re still alive.

He’s disappointed time and time again.

Yet, he doesn’t switch off his phone or mute it. Caleb reasons if you ever did call him, he would always be on standby to berate you.

(And ask you when you’ll be coming home again so he can prepare to see you).

His heart echoes a dull thud that grows murkier and darker with each growing day of your absence. Till he can’t take it anymore and punches in the emergency number you left on the fridge, hearing the dial tone that echoes forlornly in the background of this empty kitchen soaking in the last rays of sunset.

The call doesn’t go through, and he tries the other number you left for him.

“Hello?”

Mercifully, a woman answers and his white-knuckled grip on the phone tightens.

“Hi,” he stutters and feels like a fool. “My name is Caleb. I’m… Y/N’s friend,” clearing his throat, he presses on. “I haven’t heard from her in days and I’m starting to, uh, get worried. Is she—?”

He barely gets the question out when the woman interrupts him, not unkindly.

“Caleb, isn’t it? You’re her adopted brother. My name is Jenna and I’m the captain of Team Alpha. Unfortunately, I cannot disclose any further information about our Deepspace Hunters except that they are currently on a very important mission.”

Jenna’s tone is steepled in regret, and Caleb pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know. I know, damn it.” If she finds his cursing crass, she doesn’t comment on it. “But, it’s been four days already. I just need to know—”

“Mr. Caleb, we understand your frustration, but please, do let us handle the mission on our end, and if there are any updates—”

“You’d only tell me if she returns in a body bag.”

The transparency of his resigned statement floats uneasily like a greasy film over a thick coating of lies he’s very well accustomed to in the military and law enforcement world. The reality is this: he would never know if you were alive until you came back home.

Caleb thumps his forehead against the frosty kitchen glass, watching the white snowflakes dance in front of him with listless, pained violet eyes. The necklace you gifted him hangs from his neck like a noose, threatening to choke the last of his composure. He struggles to hold onto his temper, as he swallows and nods.

“Alright. Roger that. Thank you, Captain.”

He doesn’t give Jenna a chance to reply, ending the call and, in a fit of rage, slams his phone onto the table. His sudden fit of anger doesn't go unobserved, Gran’s weary eyes watching him pace restlessly through the kitchen, not noticing her sitting in the dark corner. She wants to comfort him but doesn’t know how. After all, it was you who usually took the mantle of calming down this unnerving, determined young man during his rare, but terrifying bouts of rage.

Gran sighs quietly and stares up at the ceiling as if she could see past the layers of plaster and unease and into the graying, snowy sky.

Caleb slams the front door on his way out to god knows where. Like always, she remains reticent and disengaged, sitting in the furthest corner where his disconcerting emotions could never reach her.

You weren’t expecting anyone to wait for you back in your apartment when you finally returned home.

Light snow coats the front of your lobby stairs, and the second he sees you, the doorman waves to catch your attention.

“Oh, Miss Hunter! You have a care package waiting for you in the mail room.”

Curious and weary from your arduous mission, you trudge to the mailroom to retrieve the package under your name. Clasping it in one arm, you drag your tired and bruised body straight to your apartment and push open the door, switching on the lights and air conditioning. The space smells of stale air and an underlying current of tension, greeting you with a lingering melancholy you couldn’t quite shake off.

You carefully close the door behind you and set the package on your dining table. Glancing out at the twinkling lights of the street below, the feeling of missing out on an important holiday creeps back in, and you fight back the urge to sob.

Now’s not the time…your inner voice chimes. You need to eat something… shower and rest. Wiping your damp eyes, you take a deep breath. The time to break down and mourn over your guilt can come later.

Tearing the package open, your heart skips a beat when you see a bento box filled with dehydrated vegetables, powdered cranberry sauce, dried turkey, and a side of instant mac ‘n’ cheese. A note, written in a blocky scrawl you recognize as Caleb’s, makes the lump of guilt in your throat thicken even more.

Merry Christmas, Pipsqueak. We missed you. — C

You boil some water, microwave the food, and rehydrate the greens again, taking your sad pre-packed Christmas meal on the balcony. The food is good, and you have an inkling of Caleb freeze-drying it for you—begrudgingly making sure you could still enjoy your holiday even after the catastrophic fight you both had.

As you chew listlessly on a slice of turkey, you glance up at the sky where you imagine the outline of Skyhaven to be, snowflakes clinging onto the ends of your lashes, falling like powdered sugar onto your bare hands.

Caleb… your mind echoes forlornly. Did he return to the base? Is he still here in Linkon?

One quick look at your Moments feed, and you see he’s still here, catching up with old classmates and grinning brightly in his photos like the two of you hadn’t been at each other’s throats just a few days ago.

The temptation to call him up is at odds with your bruised ego from the smothering behavior he exhibited days earlier. A part of you wants an excuse to see him again despite the growing distance since the argument—to thank him for the meal he prepared for you.

Snowflakes melt in your hair, an unceasing chill creeping up on you. Despite the unusual distance creeping insidiously into your relationship, the chill, the reproachful silence—the meal he sent you was more than a peace offering. It was his version of an apology.

Your mind floats a million miles away, thinking about Caleb, wondering if he is still mad at you. You heave a sigh. As much as you dread it, there’s only one way to find out.

Pulling out your phone, you click on his number. The dial tone drones on and on, plucking on your nerves, and you reflexively nibble on your nails, waiting for him to pick up.

“Hello! ” You expel a rushed breath, an apology on the tip of your tongue when you’re hit with the realization that you’ve reached his voicemail box instead. “—probably busy. Please leave a message after the beep—”

Silence. You catch a staggering breath. “Caleb? It’s me. If you get this, let’s meet up, ‘kay? Talk to you soon.”

There’s a hum in the night air, a tension drawing lines around your taut figure. You wait and wait for his return call, glancing at your phone every minute, checking on your messages in case he left one when your back was turned. The warm shower you took could barely flush out the thought of Caleb, your anxiety peaking when you decide to check on Moments, seeing him post a picture of his dinner with his friends, but leaving your message on read.

Crap. You’re in deep trouble now. Sighing, you run your fingers through your hair, rubbing your face.

There isn’t a hint of doubt that he’s punishing you now with the silent treatment. Caleb is never the type to avoid confrontations—he thrives on them. He loves arguing, challenging your worldview, and trying to prove his point, just to rub it in your face that he will always be right.

The indifference is odd; this distance is not like him.

Before you can stop yourself from calling him again, you slip on your coat, tug on your scarf, and rush to your bike.

I’m going to make him talk to me if it’s the last thing I do, you think viciously, revving up the bike aggressively—kicking up snow and dirt in your wake to break this frostiness between you two.

In fifteen minutes, you find yourself in front of your childhood home, the kitchen lights glowing warmly. Gran is probably already back at the elderly care center, and since Caleb is still treating you as public enemy #1, he’s staying here to keep his distance from you. You kill the engine and march straight up to the door, unlocking it with your spare key.

Inside the house is warm and toasty, the faint smell of food drifting from the kitchen. You freeze when the sound of heavy footsteps reaches your ears, looking straight into his wide, amethyst eyes.

Caleb exhales a sharp breath, his mouth dropping open slightly. “Pipsqueak…”

You remain nailed to the spot, wondering if he would kick you out—ask you to leave for daring to show your face here again. But, he does no such thing, beckoning you to close the door and come in. Though he doesn’t outright reject you, he doesn’t welcome you with open arms, either, the usual exuberance and grins he reserves for you nowhere to be found on his unsettlingly serious expression.

Caleb goes back into the kitchen, picking up a towel to wipe down his hands. The paper plane bracelet you got for him years ago peeks past the sleeve of his gray hoodie, a reminder of happier times between you two.

You hesitate for a single second by the doorway, wondering when the thought of home left you this cold and disorientated.

Like a lost puppy, you trail after him, removing your jacket and setting it on the back of a dining chair.

“Thank you… for the meal,” your hoarse voice breaks the icy silence.

Caleb glances at you from behind the kitchen island and nods. “You’re welcome.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and the easy familiarity from years of knowing each other fades into a glacial stillness. You hear your breath leaving your lips, and sense the way he’s avoiding your eyes.

“Caleb—”

He scoffs at the sound of his name leaving your lips, and turns around, putting all his focus on the bread he’s baking. You know him well enough to understand he only bakes when he’s completely stressed out over something.

Without thinking, you touch his wrist, not anticipating the sharp way he draws his hand back from you.

“Caleb…”

He doesn’t glance at you—barely gives your pain a second glance. “What’re you doing here, Pipsqueak?” He murmurs gruffly. “Aren’t you supposed to be writing a debrief report right now?”

As much as his distance stings, his dismissal hurts even worse, feeling like a knife carving through your chest.

“It’s Christmas season,” you whisper. “The offices are closed—”

“And yet, risky missions still prevail, huh?”

His words bite straight to your core, and you wince. “Caleb, it’s not—”

“Save it,” your childhood friend cuts you off, jerking his chin towards the dining table. “Sit down there and don’t disturb me. I’m making sourdough focaccia and if something goes wrong, I will 100% blame you.”

Despite the warning in his tone, you can’t help but smile faintly.

“Okay…”

Taking a seat at the table, you watch him work. The sleeves of his hoodie stretch tautly over his bulging biceps, rolling up to expose his forearms as he works the dough into a malleable ball. The silence is something new, a phenomenon born from the supernova of your hasty mistakes, leaving gaping black holes of awkwardness surrounding the two of you. Any light coming through from your attempts to make conversation is shut down with a dismissive hum or grunt from Caleb.

You can tell he’s avoiding any attempts to talk, focusing on making the bread and ignoring your presence in the corner of his eye. The childish part of you that grew up with his undivided attention screams, tearing and twisting in your chest, needing to reclaim his interest and care again. You pout, sulk, and heave numerous heavy sighs. But, he doesn’t turn to look at you, much too busy focusing on brushing basil oil onto the bubbling surface of the dough.

So, you amp up the distractions. You circle closer and closer to him, pressing your face near his shoulder to watch him decorate the dough with slivers of cherry tomatoes. You linger when he turns to grab the container of sea salt flakes, playfully sticking your finger into the concoction to pop a bubble forming.

“Okay, that’s it—”

He grabs your wrist and tugs you back into the living room, making you sit on the couch with a scowl on his face. The look of pure wrath in his expression startles you, and you barely have time to murmur an apology when he shakes his head, glare intensifying.

“Stay out of my hair, Pipsqueak. I mean it. ”

“But—”

He whirls around, silencing you with a deep and unmistakable glint of rage in his usually gentle purple eyes. You fall into a stuttering disquiet, unable to stop the hurt from flashing across your face.

“Caleb—”

“Don’t give me that look. And stay away from the kitchen.” Stay away from me. He doesn’t say it, but the warning is implicit.

You’ve never seen him this enraged before. Your breath falls out in a huff, and you give him an incredulous look. Caleb turns around, completely ignoring you, and returns to his focaccia. A voice in your head chimes in, telling you to just own up to your mistakes and apologize to him. But, the stubborn part of your consciousness, the one who insists she’s right despite how poorly she had treated one of her oldest childhood friends, remains stubbornly set on not breaking the ice first.

Easier said than done.

It’s hard.

It’s hard for you to sit on the couch, quiet and seething when Caleb is just a few feet away. It’s absolute torture to not be in there with him, yapping off his ear with updates to your mission, or trying to sneak eat a few cherry tomatoes when his back is turned. You miss him, and you miss his shitty jokes and dopey smile. You miss him.

You find yourself sneaking glances at him, wondering if he’s making an extra batch for you—hoping he isn’t too mad to deny you from having a focaccia slice. You know you’re being selfish and immature again, thinking he will be okay with you after the stunt you pulled on him when the reality of his dejection runs deeper.

Shamelessly, you stand and venture back into the kitchen, unlike a stray kitten who could never take a hint. You stand by his side, hovering around until he pays you a morsel of attention—gifting you back his sunny smiles and easygoing laughter.

But, Caleb remains steadfast in his efforts to ignore you, and you decide it’s time to bring out the big guns. Pressing closer to him, you lean your head against his shoulder, nuzzling your cheek into the soft material of his hoodie.

“Gege… don’t be mad at me…”

He stiffens, and yet, you persist with your efforts. Playfully nipping the back of his ear, you find his weakness in an instant, hearing his breath catch in the back of his throat.

Caleb pretends you don’t exist, letting you fight for his attention, but you can tell his resolve is crumbling. You hear the hitch in his quiet groan when you lick the sensitive shell of his ear, the heat of your body seeping past the thick fabric of his hoodie.

Gran isn’t here, and you don’t have to hide your desires from her, free to mess around with Caleb as much as you can.

You stand on your tiptoes, tracing the tip of your tongue down the curve of his neck, scraping your teeth against his sensitive skin.

Caleb hisses, and you fight back the urge to grin in triumph. His hands grip the marble island’s edge with a white-knuckle hold. You feel his resolution to ignore you falling apart, piece by piece, simmering in the knowledge of you offering yourself to him as a way of apologizing for the things you said—how you hurt him both physically and emotionally before your mission.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, gege,” you murmur against the salt of his skin, feeling his body heat under your touch. “Can you ever forgive me? Can you ever forgive your mei mei? ”

He bites back a groan, narrowing his eyes.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Pipsqueak…” he hisses under his breath.

The way he says it, full of anger and warning, sends a sick, dark thrill up your spine. You resist the urge to lay off him, needing him to fully crack and give in to your whims like he always does—like he always will when it comes to you because you’re nothing if not Caleb’s spoiled rotten mei mei who always gets what she wants.

“Pipsqueak—” his words cut off into a low growl when he feels your arms belting around his waist, your hands sliding further down… fingertips teasingly brushing the bulge tenting under his pants. “Watch it.”

But, his warning lacks bite, and you gnaw on your lower lip, feeling his patience slowly dissipating. Caleb is once again putty in your hands, easy to mold to your desires. You grin against his back, feeling the same revulsive knot twisting in your stomach, the stench of the impending perverseness making your nostrils flare.

“ Gege… ” you whisper again.

It’s the final nail to the coffin of his attempts to resist you. Except when he snaps, he does it in a way you never expect.

Caleb grabs your hand and spins you around, pinning you right to the counter edge. Without a second’s hesitation, he drags your pants down, baring your vulnerable backside. The stinging pain of his hit on your left cheek draws you up short, and you cry out, cursing profusely.

“My, my,” you can hear the grin in his dark tone. “Such a mouth you have on yourself, mei mei … you need to be reprimanded.”

Another sharp spank lands on your right cheek this time, and your head jerks up, a yelp slipping past your clenched teeth.

“C-Caleb—”

“Don’t you dare Caleb me,” he sneers and drags you like you’re a ragdoll to the bedroom—his bedroom. Inside, you’re faced with gege’s full wrath, as he stands before you, tall and imposing, those amethyst eyes barely wavering when he takes in your warm cheeks and the glimmer of pain simmering in your gaze.

“Strip,” Caleb commands, lifting a dark brow. “ Now .”

You want to argue, to tell him to ease up, but the look on his face remains flinty and firm.

Swallowing your trepidation, you start by pulling your shirt over your head, letting it fall to the floor. Caleb’s expression doesn’t shift, not even when his eyes rake over the lace bra you’re wearing. His jaw tightens, and he gestures at your pants, silently telling you to go all in if you want to earn his forgiveness back.

You reluctantly tuck your thumbs into the waistband of your pants and drag them down, leaving you shivering in your matching lacy panties.

He scoffs, running his eyes up and down your scantily-clad form. “You sure you weren’t thinking indecent thoughts, you shameless minx? Good girls don’t try to seduce their older brothers by looking like this.”

You flush warmly at his degrading words, feeling your bravado slipping. “I-I wasn’t—”

Your words die in the back of your throat when you feel the restrictive force of his Evol grasping your wrists, drawing them above your head. Caleb’s expression and outstretched hand don't falter, and he takes another step closer, bearing down on your helplessness.

“Be quiet,” he snaps. Flicking his fingers, he pushes you against the wall, hearing the gust of breath rushing out your lungs when your back hits the hard plaster. You grunt in surprise, struggling and failing to fight your way out of the bonds he has your wrists in.

“Scared?” He goads, approaching you, taking your chin, and tilting your face up. The look in his eyes is borderline terrifying—you’ve never seen Caleb ( your sweet, lovely, kind, and sunny Caleb )—look this angry in your life. “This is what you wanted, right?” Grabbing your wrists in one large palm, he tightens his grip on you. “Teasing me… hurting me… you have a knack for breaking your gege’s heart, huh, Pipsqueak?”

You shake your head, wanting to protest when he silences you with a punishing kiss. Caleb bites down on your lower lip, your words and coherence lost in the slurry mess of his tongue fighting yours, tasting the warmth and wetness of your mouth.

“Mhm,” you moan into the kiss, tilting your head to the side to get more—taste more of him. He runs the tip of his tongue over the hard ridges of your teeth, squeezing your cheeks in a possessive hold, forcing your mouth to remain open and giving as he continues to take what he wants without a care for your pathetic whines.

“Don’t think I’ll go nice on you, Y/N,” he warns, tipping your head back, his lips brushing the sensitive shell of your ear. “You treated me like dirt before you left. You hurt my feelings—” He growls, biting down hard on your earlobe. “You selfish, bratty little Pipsqueak… I won’t go easy on you, do you hear me? Nod if you understand.”

You can’t do anything but nod, helpless in the face of his anger. The corners of his mouth twitch at the sight of your submission, the dark monster within he tries hard to suppress rearing its jealous head, beckoning him to devour you. With a surprising show of dominance, he tangles his fingers in your hair, yanking your head back with a grunt, exposing more of your throat to his wandering lips.

He licks, nips, and sucks his marks onto the pristine column of your throat, needing to see his marks bloom on your skin. Caleb is relentless in his attempts to remind you who you belong to.

The force of his touch sends sparks of thrill up your spine, and you gasp with every hot press of his open-mouth kisses to your vulnerable jaw and neck.

Caleb’s teeth scrapes your sensitive skin, drawing guttural gasps from your kiss-swollen lips.

“Ca-leb—” you break off into a hiss when his Evol rearranges your limbs, spreading your thighs wider; your arms restrained above your head. The last time he had you in this position was a summer ago before he left for a mission to Vagrant Land. You swore after that night when he was done with you, that you had to double your Plan B dosage less your body betrayed you and you conceived his baby.

“Please—”

He doesn’t hear your begging, taking a step closer, his bigger build pressing harder into your body.

“I said: Shut. Up. ”

In one swift motion, his telekinesis holds your lips shut, your struggles and indignant squeals barely triggering a reaction from him. The look on his face sparks both terror and desire, your body responding to his unexpected dominance; proof of your arousal shining from between your thighs.

“Already wet? How pathetic…”

He smirks, coating his fingers with the proof of your desire pooling right between your folds.

“Mhmph—Cwaleb—” your desperate squeak shoots his ego straight up to the moon, and Caleb is on cloud nine.

Such a desperate, little Pipsqueak. You want this so badly, huh? Mhm hmm. That’s right. That’s fucking right. You like my fingers in you? Good girl. Such a good, little Pipsqueak. You’re doing so well—fuck.

His anger aside, Caleb can’t help but praise you. It’s his default; his DNA. You drive him insane and he wants to punish you for getting under his skin—where you’ll always belong, not if he can help it.

“Something you wanna say, Pips?” he sneers, pumping two long, lithe, and callused fingers inside of you, catching on a spot that makes your toes curl.

“S-swo…sworry,” you manage to spit past the pressure clamping your mouth shut, tears swimming in your eyes, “Cwaleb… mhm .”

He can’t say he doesn’t enjoy your struggle. The flush on your cheeks, the wetness glimmering on your lips. Caleb wants to see you completely and utterly ruined for him.

“Beg,” he commands, slipping into his Captain persona with ease. In his eyes, you were nothing but an unruly cadet in need of a stern fixing. “Beg me and I might give you what you want.”

Thumb on your clit, he’s driving you delirious with feathery, teasing circles. Your eyes roll back into your head.

Cwaleb, you groan against his Evol. Pwease—mhmph!

The pressure of his fingers gets meaner, the look in his violet eyes muffling the last of your protests. Giving up on trying to get him to relent, you submit with feeble sighs, letting him take full control. Caleb grins, feeling you succumbing to his ministrations, your squeaks and sighs growing louder and more distraught.

He loves having you like this—on the edge, overstimulated, and completely relying on him.

Years of knowing your body and what makes you tick is enough for him to push your buttons—taking your limits past the breaking point.

He’s meticulous and sure with his punishment, doing whatever it takes to hammer in the anger and shame he wants you to feel—the lesson he’s trying to impart to your desperate body and distraught mind.

As he releases the pressure on your mouth so you can moan and gasp freely, Caleb’s quick with a foot of rope, using it to bind your hands in your front, allowing you just enough give to grip a pen in your shaky hand as he makes you sit on his cock and write ‘I will always obey my gege’ over and over again until your eyes swim, and your cunt is pulsing from every slight movement.

He teases you with shallow thrusts, lips in the crook of your neck, and warm, large palms covering your heaving breasts; playing with your distended nipples till they blossom into a pretty blush shade.

Driving you further into a pleasure-filled delirium, he rubs your clit with teasing circles, smacking your thighs when they start to snap close.

“I said—keep 'em’ open unless you know what’s good for ya, princess,” he sneers, leaving another stinging mark blooming on the plush flesh.

“Please…” The plea drops from your swollen lips and he chuckles.

“Struggling already?”

Caleb peers over your shoulder at your almost illegible writing and shakes his head. “I thought you were better than this—didn’t you once win the best handwriting award in high school? Tch.”

To your mortification and horror, he picks up the sheet of paper and tears it in half, ruining your hour-long effort of completing a hundred lines.

“Again,” he orders, and grabs a blank sheet, placing it in front of you. “And make sure your writing is pretty Pipsqueak. I wanna frame this.”

A strangled whimper tumbles from your mouth, and behind you, Caleb smirks at the sheer frustration at the sound.

Good.

Now, you would understand a sliver of the anguish he felt when you went missing for days. Now, you would feel the exasperation and outrage he did—and god, does it feelgood to watch you come undone for him.

You pick up the pen, and with a teary, little huff, start to write again. He hooks his chin over your shoulder, breath warm and distracting against your neck.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs, chest rumbling with deep satisfaction. “Look at’cha. Doing so well… I oughta reward you after this, hmm?”

He teasingly trails his palm up your thigh, squeezing your flesh—enjoying how your pretty, tight pussy squeezes down on him with every rasp of his palm on your skin. The sight between your thighs is lewd, a creamy mess coating the base of his cock, dribbles of arousal gathering at the lips of your entrance which ripples around his thick girth. Caleb is equal parts mesmerized and thrilled by the sight, watching how your little clit shivers when he teases her with the rough pad of his index finger; how your body shudders, and the pen in your hand shakes.

“Much better,” he compliments your penmanship, giving your clit and nipple a squeeze.

“Ah— mhm! ” You choke through your tears. This minute reaction costs you a firm smack on your thigh, his fingernails digging into the singing flesh.

“Did I say you could take your eyes off the paper?” Caleb demands, and in a low tone, barks out, “ Write .”

Tears mist your vision, your hips twitching and muscles tightening around the fleshy intrusion lodged deeply in your tender pussy. Caleb wraps his hands around your waist and gingerly lifts you up and down, fucking you on his cock as the words on the paper get blurrer and blurrer.

I will always obey gege.

I will always—

The words get subconsciously stuck in your head, your lips shaping and breathing them out in shaky puffs. Black strokes of your obedience begin to fill up half of the page, and soon the whole sheet is covered with the affirmation. Caleb presses his lips to your jaw, giving you a much softer kiss, catching you off guard with his gentleness.

“There you go… lookin’ good, darlin’.”

He takes the paper from you and scrutinizes each word, well aware of your body trembling; your sweet, tight cunt squeezing pitifully around his cock. You’ve made such a mess on his lap, Caleb is surprised how the powerful orgasm you’ve been holding back for the past two hours hasn’t taken you under yet. It seems like one single touch and you might blow.

He chuckles, chest vibrating against your back, and sets your work down, gripping your hip tighter.

“Good girl,” he croons in your ear. Those maliciously thick and long fingers slide up the length of your thigh, reaching to wrap around your neck.

“I did what you asked,” you pant, squeezing your eyes shut and moaning at the sensation of his lips kissing down your throat. “A-am I forgiven yet?”

Hmm, Caleb hums, his smirking mouth pressing on your pulse point. He loves how despite your lofty title as Linkon’s shining Hunter, you’re still so much smaller than him; your entire body dwarfed between his bigger build and the hard edge of the table. “... suppose I could show you some mercy.”

He traces random patterns on your thigh and a sliver of hope takes root in your heart. Maybe you’ve done enough to fully earn his trust and love back. Maybe he might be merciful and kiss you—

As if you weighed next to nothing, Caleb’s strong arms carry you back to bed, setting you down on his lap again. He buries his nose in your hair and inhales like a starved man tasting honey for the first time, his tongue darting out to trace the jut of your jaw, trailing down your throat.

“You’re so sweet… so sinful…”

His grave murmurs send sparks of desire straight to your core, and you clench your thighs, whimpering.

“Caleb…”

Your whisper is a fleeting plea of desire that disappears under his smothering kiss. Caleb devours your mouth, swirling his tongue with yours, his fingers holding your chin in place. Hungry, open-mouth kisses smear down your neck, right to your collarbone, where the ghost of his breath on your perky nipples makes you shudder.

He takes his time, playing with you while you’re all tied up and helpless. Caleb grins against your sternum, hearing your breath hitch when he parts your thighs and sinks a finger inside you with barely any prep. Your body takes him without resistance, and he nuzzles your bare breasts, relishing how soft your skin is against his cheek.

“You’re so eager… so ready for me…”

His dick throbs, but he pays it no mind, completely zeroing in on your pleasure. Caleb’s entire focus is on you—your whimpers, your sighs, how your poor, puffy pussy clenches down so nicely on his thick fingers.

You’re just ready to burst, darlin’ ... he murmurs huskily into your ear. Must be frustrating, hmm? Not being given the chance to come… I’m sure you’re aching…

His thumb circles on your greasy, little nub, hearing your soft moans and sighs in his hair. Caleb guides you to the bed, your bound body falling in a heap under him. He positions himself over you, forearms on either side of your head as he goes back to licking and sucking at your neck.

The sting of his teeth leaving another bite leaves you light-headed with lust, your body throbbing for the slightest bit of relief.

Please… you whimper again, trying your luck. Caleb… I need you…

Yeah? He murmurs huskily. Where’dya need me, princess?

You squirm, moving your hips and he feels you writhing underneath him. “Inside. All the way.”

His breathing hitches, blood growing hotter at the desperation and need in your tone.

“All the way? You know what to say to get a man going, sweetness.”

“I— ohhh .”

Your words die in the back of your throat at what he does next.

Caleb grins as he pushes your thighs apart, settling in between them. He carelessly tugs his pants down, ripping off his clothes to toss them to the floor, gifting you inches and inches of bare, tanned skin and defined muscles to gawk at. Ready, baby? Giving his cock a few good pumps, he lines the tip to your entrance, catching it on the rim of your pussy.

Teasingly, he works the flush, sticky head up and down your weeping clit, circling your opening, pushing it in past the tight ring of muscle with taunting ‘pops’. Your gasps reach his ears, and he grins, enjoying drawing out your pleasure far too much.

Like that? He licks his lips, eyes half-hooded and heated. It’s all going in you, baby… just… at my… pace.

He punctuates each languid word with a few more inches sinking inside of you, coaxing more sweet sounds from your slack jaw.

Oh, yes… yes… fuck me, Caleb. Fuck—oooh.

Your drawn-out hiss springs a wicked smile to his face. The way your eyes roll back; how your hips twitch.

Spasming wildly, your sweet pussy draws him in, and Caleb can’t get enough of you. It’s excruciating how much he’s edging himself as much as he’s torturing you. But, the moment he bottoms out inside of you, all the tension condenses right to the point where you’re connected to him.

Caleb sets a rhythm that leaves you gasping, legs wrapping instinctively around his fitted waist. His biceps and abs ripple with every thrust, those pesky lips you love too much finding the hollow of your throat, leaving behind his claim on your delicate skin for the world to see. His mouth presses to yours in a heated display of ownership, tongue delving past your lips to dominate yours.

His taste—musk, salt, man—coats your tastebuds, and you’re swimming in his heat and scent.

Caleb is everywhere and anywhere over you, all at once.

His bigger build completely dwarfs you on the bed, expert hands pushing your thighs apart and pressing your knees to your chest, leaving you flushed and completely vulnerable to him.

He laughs when your clit trembles under his scrutiny, the little bud exposed with nowhere to hide.

Zeroing in on your tender bundle of nerves, he presses his thumb to it, feeling the greasy little button twitch under his fingertip.

You look so pretty like this… all tied up and vulnerable… just for me.

“Caleb…” your moans begin to stutter, your hips beginning to spasm. You’re so close, all it takes is one misstep on his end to lead you down the biggest orgasm of your life.

Hours of teasing and drawing out your pleasure renders you an incoherent, babbling mess.

Faster, faster… oh god, please. Yesyesyes. Caleb—Caleb…

Anyone passing by the room could tell you were barely holding on by a thread. You look so beautiful under him like this: hair fanning across his pillows, cheeks warm and lips flushed. The glassy look in your eyes.

God, he’s so in love with you.

Having you here, under him where you belong, heals the fissured part inside of him that still aches from your cruel dismissal of his concerns.

His thrusts grow more punishing, the tip of his long, girthy cock hitting your cervix. Caleb tilts your pelvis, making you take him deeper.

There ya go, sweet thing, he coaxes. Can you feel me here—? He touches your womb. Feel me where ya need me. Oh, darlin’... I’m gonna make sure you feel me for days.

Picking up his pace, the bed creaks and rocks under you. Caleb makes sure to tease your clit as well with every punishing thrust, feeling your thighs tremble around his shoulders.

He’s so deep, so flushed against your body, he thinks you could suck him up and take him in your body forever.

Caleb is hard-pressed to admit he doesn’t want that—there is nothing in the world he desires more than to be one with your bones and breath. His movements get erratic, needing to bring you to the edge and back.

He can tell you’re close.

The look on your face, the warmth in your cheeks. You’re holding back and he couldn’t be any more prouder.

“What do you want, princess?” He asks, eyes soft with affection.

You struggle to put your desires into words, completely wrecked at the end of his cock.

“I… mhm— close… ”

He feels your muscles squeezing down on him, and chuckles breathlessly.

“Yeah? I can tell, princess. You want to cum—you need to cum, huh?”

You give a teary, little nod that tugs on his heartstrings. But, Caleb isn’t done with you—not by a long shot.

He grins and without warning, switches the position, putting you on top of him. When you falter and almost fall face-first into his chest, the familiar stirrings of energy hold you upright, his Evol keeping you centered and balanced on his cock.

“Ride me,” he whispers huskily. “Show me how much you want this—prove to me how badly you want to cum.”

The challenge in his tone drives you dizzy with lust. Licking your lips, you murmur a whimper which makes his grin stretch wider, and shift your hips, testing the give of his Evol.

Sturdy and sure, his grip on you doesn’t falter, and you quickly find a rhythm that makes his eyelids flutter shut. A groan slips from Caleb’s lips, his pretty purple eyes prying open to drink at the sight of you riding him feverishly.

Arduous and urgent, you move your hips like a pro. Caleb’s sure he’s never seen you this determined—the look in your eyes searing through him.

The sight of his dog tag and the apple charm you gave him years ago shining silver from his neck catches your eye, a stark contrast to his tanned and flushed skin.

God… you’re killing me…

Caleb smirks at your breathless words. I do? Glad to know, princess…

His large palm collides against your plush ass, watching the flesh jiggle with each precise spank. Your sharp inhales and whines spur him on as he takes his frustrations out on your pert ass, venting the fear and anger he felt when you left him behind for that torturous week onto your willing body.

Try to leave me again. His nostrils flare, eyes dark with promise. And I’ll make sure you’ll never have any use for your legs, you hear me, Pips

Possessive and passionate, he tangles his fingers in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the vulnerable skin of your neck. His Evol loosens its grip, and you go falling into his arms, his lips practically devouring your neck with heated kisses and nips.

You gasp when he works in another mark over one he just made a few minutes ago, the stinging bite of pain enough to get you fluttering all over his cock.

“ Mhm… ” you groan. You’re lost to the sensations, drunk off the high he’s giving you.

Caleb is no better. He’s almost cross-eyed from the pleasure, drunkenly leaving marks on your jaw and collarbone.

Sloppy. Languid. Caleb fucks you like he’s got all the time in the world.

He runs his hands down your back, over your sides, fondling your sore and stinging ass. Moving underneath you like a strong wave, he slowly rolls his hips up against you, pulling you closer onto his lap.

“You’re so good… taking everything so well… my perfect pipsqueak…”

Caleb’s moans and praises get lost in the crook of your neck. He uses his free hand to grip and squeeze your breast, drawing your turgid nipples into his mouth one by one; his other hand continues to spank and grope your ass.

It’s too much—all too soon.

You’re on the edge and he still hasn’t permitted you to come. The need to be good is at war with your primal instincts to give in to the pleasure, your gasps and moans are a desperate symphony to his heated ears.

His thrusts get more erratic, the wet sounds of your bodies joining together bouncing off the walls. The windows of his bedroom start to fog up, the bed creaking maddeningly with every thrust.

“Caleb,” you gasp, feeling the familiar tension coiling in your lower belly. “Oh… oh… ”

He hears the note of panic in your tone and chuckles gravelly. Dark hair in a disarray, amethyst eyes shining with mischief. Caleb is the picture of ravaged underneath you, and there’s little doubt you’re in a much worse state above him.

Licking his puffy lips, Caleb shakes his head, abs undulating from the release he’s also trying to hold back.

“Uh-uh-uh, princess,” he taunts, voice dropping an octave lower. “Not yet…”

You clench your jaw and squeeze your eyes shut in despair. He grins, lips moving back to your neck, murmuring against the salt of your skin.

“I love seeing you like this… hearing you gasp and whimper… feeling you writhe so desperately above me…”

Caleb… you whisper his name like a prayer, one you hope he grants.

“Yeah, princess? Say my name… I love it when you say my name.”

“Caleb… oh… Caleb… ”

He nuzzles your neck in an unexpected gesture of adoration, feeling how tense your body is.

“You’re so close, hmm?” He murmurs, unlike how a pet owner tries to soothe a fretting kitten. “I know you are, Pips. I can feel ya. So close… oh… and yet so… far .”

At the last second, before you succumb to your pleasure, Caleb’s Evol lifts you off his cock, the sudden, gaping loss ripping the earth-shattering orgasm right from under your trembling body.

No! You cry out in a thick voice, and you swear real tears spring in your eyes. No… no… please…!

Begging him shamelessly. That’s what you were reduced to.

Caleb chuckles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He loosens his grip on you and guides you back onto his cock. You hiss from the intrusion, eyes rolling back in your head. Nothing but a puppet to her Master’s strings; Caleb is firmly in control.

He manipulates your body to his own pace, using his Evol to fuck you on top of his cock like you’re a lifeless doll, made only for his pleasure.

“Oh… oh… y-you ass—”

Caleb laughs, cutting off your tirade by gripping your hips tighter.

“Don’tcha love it, princess? Don’t lie to me—you adore it when I tease ya. Make you work for my lovin’,” he mutters hotly into your neck. “You can deny it all ya one, Pips, but I know what you want… I know what you want deep, deep down…”

As he drawls out ‘deep’, his Evol loosens, making you slide down his cock until you bottom out.

“ Ngh! ” You cry out, the tears in your eyes dripping down your cheeks. Caleb clicks his tongue and wipes the proof of your frustration away with his calloused thumb.

“No need to cry, Pips. I gotcha. Gege’s got ya, don’t he?”

You struggle to reply, the last of your coherent thoughts scrambled by his cock working you back to the edge again.

Caleb… Caleb… you cry out, his name a mantra, a chant that grounds you as his cock continues to fuck you up.

It seems like forever passes by when he brings you to the edge, abandons all motion, and does it again until you’re practically sobbing from the overstimulation. Caleb is a mastermind of your own body—he knows just how to get you trembling from the onslaught of pleasure without ever letting you fall over.

The torturous cycle starts and ends the same: with your begging and whining doing nothing to move him.

“Please…” you finally gasp, hanging your head, strands of your hair tickling his chin. “I’m sorry, Caleb. I’m so sorry…” Fighting back the lump in your throat, your shiny eyes beg him to show you some mercy. “I’m sorry I hurt you… s-sorry I— ah… mhmmm… treated you like shit… I’m so sorry—”

Caleb sweeps you into his arms, his Evol completely releasing its grip on you. “That’s all I wanted to hear… all I needed…”

He registers how you’re choking up and rubs gentle circles on your back. “Hey—ssh. Ssh. Apology accepted, Pipsqueak. Don’t cry, okay… come here…” Gripping your chin and tilting your face up to meet his, he gives you a soft smile. “You did so well… I’m so proud of you, hey? You wanna come, sweetness?”

Without a shred of stubbornness left, you eagerly nod. He chuckles, and positions you back on his cock, purple eyes glistening with the pure adoration he has for you.

“Alright—come on, baby… ride me good this time, okay? And don’t hold back—you deserve this… deserve all this for being such a good, little girl—”

It doesn't take long for you to get to the edge, hours of suppressing your release make you needy and very sensitive.

Come… come for me… he encourages you, rubbing your clit, pinching your nipples—doing everything in his power to get you to lose control.

The tension in your belly snowballs to something beyond your control, and you tilt your head back, expelling a long, drawn-out moan.

In the ropes and under his cruel yet tender ministrations, you find the courage to fall apart—his name rebounding across the room like a screamed cry of relief. Caleb feels you shuddering all around him and gives in to his baser need to fill you up, grunting low and deep into the crook of your neck as ribbons of warmth coat your walls.

Drops of white dribble to stain your inner thighs and his lap, but neither of you cares.

Undoing the rope and relinquishing his Evol’s hold on you, Caleb catches you in his arms, burying his nose into your hair, soothed by your delicate scent.

The afterglow settles like a haze, enveloping your body like a warm, fluffy blanket.

Caleb traces patterns on your bare back, pressing soft kisses to your temple and cheek. He breathes in your light scent, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“You alive, Pips?”

Nodding, your eyes flutter close, the comfort found in the crook of his body intoxicatingly cozy. Your heartbeat starts to slow, lulled by the gentleness of his breathing. His pulse steadies under your cheek, his arms tightening around you, pressing you closer to his chest.

“You did so good, princess…” he murmurs, stroking your head. “So proud of you—I’m so proud of my little Pipsqueak…”

His praise hits your system like a shot of red wine, warming you up from the inside out. Flushed from his gentle words, you eagerly rub your face against his throat, his boyish chuckles easing the guilt still swimming in your soul.

“Caleb?” He looks down at you, taken by your small voice.

“Yes, Pips?”

“Am I… forgiven?”

He nods without a beat of hesitation. “You sure are. There’s nothing for you to be sorry about anymore, okay? Let’s put this behind us and start fresh, princess. How’s that sound?”

Relieved, you nod, and the love you feel for him intensifies, radiating brightly from deep within.

One thing you’ve learned about wounded hearts is this: with Caleb’s smile, everything can be healed.

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#🦢 writes #caleb xia yizhou #caleb love and deepspace #caleb lads #caleb x mc #caleb x reader #caleb x you #caleb smut #lnds smut #lads smut #love and deepspace fic

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