#lads x reader

[rafayelxsylusho]

Hello ♥️ I love your fics so much!! 😩 I don’t know if you take requests…but if you do could I request the LADS guys reacting to seeing you without panties on under your dress/skirt? 😈

Ohhhh I really liked this idea.

I'll work on the other three today and post them as soon as I can.

Enjoy!!!

Calebxreader

Rafayelxreader

TW:SMUT

How do the LADS men react when they see you without panties under your skirt/dress Part 1 (Caleb)(Rafayel)

Part 2 (Sylus) Here

Caleb's gaze drifts over to you as you sit across from him at the dinner table, a smile playing on his lips. The aroma of your favorite meal, freshly cooked by his own hands, wafts through the air between you.

"You know, I remember when you used to beg me to make this every week, you'd come running into the kitchen, skipping and laughing, and throw your arms around me until I agreed." His eyes glimmer with a distant memory, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "You were so cute back then, so full of life and energy. I could never say no to you."

"You still can't" said Gran, who sits beside him, with a knowing smile. Her eyes crinkle at the corners as she takes a sip of her drink, setting the glass down gently on the white tablecloth.

"You're right, Gran," Caleb agrees, turning his attention back to you. His gaze is intense, a mix of fondness and something darker, more possessive. "I still can't say no to her. Never could."

He picks up his fork to start eating but accidentally pushes his spoon to the floor with his elbow. He leans down, his chair scraping softly against the hardwood floor as he bends to retrieve the fallen spoon under the table. His eyes can't help but wander over your legs. They trail up your calves, over your knees, and come to a sharp halt when he notices something that makes his heart skip a beat. Or rather, the lack of something. His eyes linger for a moment, drinking in the expanse of smooth, tanned thigh that's been revealed by your slightly spread legs.

Straightening up, he sets the spoon on the table, his movements deliberate and slow. There's a new tension in the set of his shoulders, a coiled energy that wasn't there before. As he takes his seat once more, he doesn't meet your eyes right away. Instead, he busies himself with his own plate, cutting into the tender meat with precise, almost angry strokes. But as he lifts his fork to his mouth, his gaze finally meets yours. There's a depth of emotion swirling in those violet eyes, feelings he can barely contain. Desire, possessiveness, a desperate longing that borders on obsession. It's all there, laid bare for you to see.

His grip tightens on the fork, knuckles turning white as he fights the sudden, overwhelming urge to toss it aside. To lean across the table, to take your face in his hands...and claim your mouth with his own.

Caleb's eyes darken with lust as he watches the sensual movement of your throat as you swallow. The sound of your moan, sweet and breathy makes his heart beat against his ribs like a caged animal desperate to break free. "Does it taste as good as you remember? "I made it just the way you like it," he murmurs, leaning forward slightly. "I remember everything about what you like, pipsqueak." His tone is teasing, but there's also something darker on the way he says your old nickname.

"It's delicious Caleb" said Gran, before you had a chance to answer him, breaking the tension between you.

He sits back in his chair, trying to compose himself even as his heart continues to race. He can't let Gran see the true depths of his feelings, the all consuming love and lust that threatens to swallow him whole.

"That's great, Gran," he says, his voice only slightly strained. "I'm glad you both like it." He forces a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Those violet eyes remain focused on you, even as he tries to engage in the conversation.

"Remember when you and Y/n used to fight over the last piece of meat?" Gran asks, a fond smile on her face. "You two were always so competitive, especially when it came to food."

Caleb's smile tightens "Yeah," he says, his eyes never leaving yours. "I always made sure she got the last piece. No matter what." His tone is light, but there's another meaning beneath the words. A promise.

You look over at Gran, a bright smile on your face when you say "Gran, I'm meeting up with a friend tonight. We had plans to go out since friday" You stand up, gathering your dirty dishes and silverware. "I'll just put these in the kitchen and then I should get ready."

Caleb watches, his eyes glued to your every move as you carry your dishes to the kitchen. The sway of your hips, the gentle bounce of your hair with each step...it's all seared into his mind.

He forces himself to turn to Gran, to keep up the pretense of a normal conversation. But his mind is elsewhere, already conjuring up a dozen ways he could stop you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caleb stands in your doorway, his tall frame filling the space. His hair is still slightly damp from a recent shower. His arms are crossed over his broad chest as he watches you get ready. His eyes follow your every movement, from the way you brush your long black hair, to the quick application of makeup.

"Did you forget," he says, his voice low and slightly accusatory, "that you had to do the dishes and I had to do the cooking?"

He steps into your room, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft, sound. The space suddenly feels smaller, the air thicker, with his presence dominating every inch of it.  He reaches out and plucks the hairbrush from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours. "Here," he says softly, holding the brush. "Let me help you finish getting ready."

You look up at Caleb, a flicker of annoyance in your eyes as you take the hairbrush from his hand. "I didn't forget," you say, your voice a bit sharp. "I just got distracted. Besides, I thought you had more important things to do than keep track of whose turn it is to do the dishes." You turn back to the mirror, running the brush through your hair with more force than necessary. "And I didn't ask for your help," you add, "I think I can handle getting ready on my own."

Caleb watches as you finish brushing your hair, his eyes never leaving your reflection in the mirror. He sees the flicker of irritation in your gaze, hears the sharpness in your tone. As you turn to leave, he clears his throat, his voice a low rumble that stops you in your tracks. "You're forgetting something, pipsqueak," he says, a hint of that old teasing to his tone. But there's something darker, something that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

He takes two long strides towards you, closing the distance between your bodies in an instant. His large hands find your waist, strong fingers splaying possessively over the curve of your hips. He pulls you back against his chest, your body molding to the hard planes of his own like two puzzle pieces clicking into place.

In the mirror, your eyes meet, locking in a charged gaze. You feel his hands fist the fabric of your skirt. He pulls and tugs, the skirt riding higher and higher on your thighs with each yank of his wrists. The cool air of the room brushes against the newly exposed skin, sending a shiver racing up your spine.

"Caleb..." you protest, your voice a mortified whisper as you feel your skirt being hiked up past your thighs. But he doesn't listen, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror as he exposes you completely.

Your blush deepens as you watch, uncomfortably aroused, as he finally reaches the hem of your skirt. The fabric pools around your waist, leaving your bare cunt on full display in the reflection. The sight of your glistening folds, makes your heart race and your core clench.

Caleb's breath grows heavier, his chest rising and falling more rapidly against your back. His grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging into your flesh as he holds you in place, trapping you against him. His eyes, dark and hungry, rove over your reflection, taking in every intimate detail.

"Were you really planning on going out like this?" he asks, "Or were you just trying to tease me...again?" His fingers flex, digging into your hipbones hard. He leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "I've told you before, pipsqueak. If you want something...ask for it."

His eyes bore into yours in the mirror, a intensity burning in their violet depths. Ask me, they seem to say. Ask me to touch you to taste you, to claim you again. Beg me to fuck you until you can't walk straight.

He watches as your lips part, your breath coming in short, sharp pants. He waits, his heart pounding in his chest as he anticipates your response. Say it, he thinks. Say you want me. Say you need me. Beg me to touch you like I've been dying to.

"I...I..." you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. He smirks, a curve to his lips as he watches you struggle to form words. So cute, so innocent, he thinks. He leans in closer, his teeth nipping your ear as he whispers, "Go on, pipsqueak. Say it."

"Caleb...please" you whimper, your voice barely audible but dripping with desperate need. It's all the encouragement he needs. Caleb reaches down and slowly lowers the zipper of your skirt and it slides down your legs until it pools at your feet, leaving you bare from the waist down. And just as quickly, Caleb makes short work of his own clothes. His shirt joins your skirt on the floor, followed by his jeans and underwear. His cock springs free, thick and hard and already leaking at the tip.

Before you can do anything he takes your hand, his fingers curling around yours as he leads you to the chair where you sat just moments ago. He sits down, his bare skin warming the cool leather, and pulls you to stand between his spread thighs. The heat of his body envelops you, making your own skin prickle with awareness.

He looks up at you, his eyes glinting with a dark, possessive light as he takes in your reflection . His hands come to rest on your hips, fingers splaying over the bare flesh of your ass as he holds you in place. Mine, his eyes seem to say as they rove over your naked form.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice a sensual rumble. "So fucking beautiful. And all mine." His hands slide around to your front, one coming to rest low on your belly while the other cups your mound possessively. "This is what you do to me, baby. This is what you make me want."

Caleb moves his hands to grip your hips once again as he slowly lowers you onto his lap. His cock, hard and thick, slides between your folds, the thick head nudging against your entrance. You feel the heat of him, the pulsing of his flesh against your most intimate place, and it makes your head swim with need.

A moan escapes your lips as he settles you fully in his lap, his thick shaft nestled snugly between your thighs. Your back arches, pressing your breasts out as you throw your head back against his shoulder. Caleb's lips find your neck, pressing hot kisses to the sensitive skin as his hands roam your curves.

"Fuck, baby," he groans against your neck, his hips rocking up slightly to grind his cock against your dripping slit. "You feel so fucking good. So hot and wet and ready for me."

Caleb's hands slide up your sides, his fingers skimming over your skin until they reach the hem of your shirt. Without pausing, he tugs it upwards, exposing your flat stomach and the cute little belly button that sits above your cunt but he doesn't stop there, he keeps going, pulling the shirt and your bra up and over your breasts until they spring free, bouncing slightly from the sudden release. Your tits, perfect handfuls are now on full display in the mirror. The cool air of the room makes your nipples tighten and pucker, begging for attention. His hands cup the soft mounds, his fingers sinking into the pliant flesh as he squeezes and kneads. His thumbs brush over your nipples, teasing the sensitive peaks until they're stiff peaks.

"Fuck, look at these perfect tits," Caleb groans, watching your reflection as he plays with your breasts. "They're even more gorgeous than I remember. I can't wait to get my mouth on them, to suck and bite and mark your beautiful skin." He rolls your nipples between his fingers, pinching and tugging on the sensitive buds as he rocks his hips up against you. His cock slides between your folds once again.

"Oh god", you whimper, feeling your pussy clench and flutter around nothing. "Oh fuck, Caleb"  Your hips start to move on their own, grinding down against the hard length of him as your body craves more stimulation. The mirror reflects your desperation, your tits bouncing in his hands as he teases and pleases you.

Caleb's voice is a commanding growl in your ear. "Lift your hips, baby. Just a little bit, that's it." You feel his fingers around your throat, his large hand spanning the delicate column of your neck. His other hand slides down your body, over the soft swell of your belly, to wrap around your thigh. He squeezes the supple flesh, his fingers sinking in as he spreads your leg wider, opening you up to him. You feel the cool air against your dripping core, making you shiver.

Caleb takes advantage of your new position to line himself up with your entrance. The thick head of his cock nudges against your folds, slipping between them to catch on your hole. You feel the heat of him, the hard, throbbing flesh pulsing with need.

"Watch, baby," Caleb commands, "Watch as I claim this pretty little cunt. Watch as I make this pretty pussy mine."

He starts to push forward, his hips rocking up as he sinks into you inch by inch. The mirror allows you to see every moment, every second of your joining. You watch, as your body stretches around his thick cock, your walls fluttering and clenching as they struggle to accommodate his size. Caleb's eyes bore into yours, his gaze intense and consuming. Mine he thinks, watching your expression morph with pleasure. This is what you were made for, baby. To take my cock, to milk it with this greedy little cunt. His hand tightens around your throat, not enough to cut off air, but enough to make you feel owned, claimed, possessed.

Caleb starts to thrust up into you, his hips rocking and rolling as he drives his thick cock deeper and deeper into your tight, clenching heat. And you find yourself meeting his thrusts, your own hips rolling as you take him in. The mirror shows you every detail of his thick cock disappearing between your thighs, only to reappear coated in your arousal.

Caleb keeps your leg spread wide, his hand gripping your thigh hard enough to leave finger shaped bruises. He holds you open, keeping you in place as he fucks into you with deep, powerful strokes. The other hand remains wrapped around your throat, his thumb pressing lightly against your racing pulse.

"Fuck baby," Caleb groans, his voice ragged and rough with lust. "Your pussy feels so fucking good. So hot and tight and perfect." He punctuates each word with a sharp thrust, his pelvis slamming against you as he bottoms out inside you. You can see it, see the way your body swallows him up, see the thick ring of milky white arousal forming at the base of his shaft where he's stretching you open. It's filthy, it's obscene, but it's so fucking hot.

His thrusts become more urgent, more insistent, as he chases his own release. The mirror reflects your bouncing tits, the flesh jiggling and swaying with each powerful surge of his hips. Your mouth is open, soft gasps and whimpers spilling from your lips as you lose yourself in the sensation.

Caleb's eyes are glued to your reflection, watching your every reaction. He sees the way your head lolls back, your eyes glazed over with lust. He sees the string of drool leaking from the corner of your mouth. "Fuck, look at you," a surge of pride and possessiveness rushing through his veins. "Look at how much you love taking my cock."

"Tell me, baby, didn't you wear any panties today, just to tease me? To make me want to bend you over and fuck this pussy raw?" Caleb grins wickedly as you nod, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "That's my girl" he says, feeling a thrill of satisfaction at the knowledge that you deliberately left your pussy bare and exposed, just for him. "Such a naughty little tease, getting me all worked up."

"Keep your legs open for me, baby," Caleb orders, his hand squeezing your thigh harder as he spreads you wider. "I want to watch this pretty cunt as I make you come all over my cock." Then you hear him spit, the cool wetness drips down between the valley of your breasts, trailing down your stomach before dripping onto your pussy. Without wasting a second, Caleb smears the spit around your clit, using it as lubricant. His fingers circle the sensitive nub, rubbing tight, quick circles as he feels your body tensing. Your clit swells under his touch, peeking out from beneath its hood as he strokes and teases and pleasures you. He keeps rubbing, as his hips never stop their rhythm. The mirror shows your body shaking, your tits bouncing, your mouth open in a silent scream as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. Caleb feels your scream building, hears the way your breath hitches and catches in your throat. In a flash, he brings the hand that was on your throat up to cover your mouth, silencing your cries before they can escape and alert Gran of your activities.

But then your teeth sink into the flesh of his palm, biting down hard enough to make him hiss in pained surprise. The sudden, sharp sensation sends a jolt of adrenaline through his body, pushing him over the precipice. Your orgasm crashes over you, your body seizing and shaking as ecstasy whites out your mind. Your cunt clamps down around his cock, walls rippling and fluttering as they try to milk him for all he's worth.

The feeling of your pussy spasming around him, combined with the throbbing ache of your bite,its too much for Caleb. With a moan that he muffles against your hair, he hilts himself inside you and lets go. Thick, hot ropes of cum paint your insides as Caleb's cock pulses and throbs. His hips jerk and stutter, spurting his seed deep inside your cunt as he fills you with his essence. It seems to go on forever, wave after wave of thick, sticky cum pumping into your hole as Caleb marks you, claims you, makes you his.

As the intense waves of your shared orgasms start to fade, you feel Caleb's lips press soft kisses along the column of your neck. His touch is gentle now, almost reverent.

You can feel the thick mix of your combined releases starting to leak out around where you're joined, your over sensitive flesh twitching at the sensation. Caleb's fingers find the source of the dripping wetness, gathering some of the pearly essence on his fingertips.

"Open up, baby," Caleb whispers as he removes his hand from your mouth. "Taste us. Taste what we made together." His fingers press against your lower lip, smearing the sticky fluid across the soft flesh. Almost unconsciously, you part your lips, allowing him access to your mouth. Caleb takes advantage, slipping his finger past your lips to rest on your tongue. The taste of your combined releases floods your senses, the slightly bitter, salty flavor of his cum mixed with the sweeter, tangier essence of your arousal. It's an intoxicating combination that makes your head swim.

"Fuck, that's so hot," Caleb groans, watching your face intently as you suck on his finger. "Seeing you taste our cum, taste the proof of how good we are together."

He slips out of you making you flinch "You better get ready now, pipsqueak, you don't want to be late for whatever plans you have today. But..." His hand tightens in your hair, tugging lighly.

"...when you come back home to me, I'll be waiting. I'll be here, ready to pick up right where we left off." Caleb's other hand slides down to grip your hip possessively, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh. "We only have a few days together, after all. And I plan to make every single second count."

Rafayel's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter as he navigated through the crowded city streets, slower than necessary. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink.

"You know," he began, voice laced with a touch of impatience but also a hint of something softer, "you could have just stayed home and I would have understood" His finger tapped an erratic rhythm against the wheel, and he sighed. "I just...I wish we had more time together, just the two of us. Without all this..." He waved a hand vaguely at the windshield, as if gesturing to the world beyond the car.

"Tell you what cutie," he said, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes "if you give me a good enough reason, we can turn around right now. Leave all this nonsense behind and find somewhere... more private."

His lips curved into a playful smirk, a silent invitation hanging in the air between you. The car rolled to a stop at a red light, and Rafayel cocked his head to the side, one eyebrow raised in question. Waiting. Always waiting for your response.

"Nooooo, you actually need to show up this time Rafayel," you say as you looked inside your purse for your lipstick.

"I know, I know," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "You're right, of course. I can't just...skip it." He trailed off, jaw clenched tight.

The light turned green, and Rafayel pressed down on the accelerator, the car lurching forward. He gripped the wheel tighter. "I just...I hate all the pretension. The fake smiles, the insincere compliments..." He shook his head, a look of distaste on his handsome face. "I'd rather spend the time with you, not stuck in some stuffy room filled with people I don't know."

"Have you seen my lipstick? I swear I left it here the last time I used it." You asked still looking through your purse

"Yes, it's back there somewhere..." he murmured. Rafayel watched as you hastily unbuckled your seatbelt, leaning over to rummage through the backseat. He couldn't help but let his gaze linger on the tantalizing curve of your back. Suddenly, you let out a small 'ah!' of triumph and straightened up, holding the tube of lipstick. In doing so, you lose balance for a moment. His eyes widened as he noticed your dress riding up, revealing the tantalizing sight of your bare skin above the seat of your panties... except there were no panties. His foot slipped off the accelerator, the car momentarily slowing.

For a moment, he forgot about the traffic, the show, everything. The world narrowed down to the sight of your exposed skin, the absence of any fabric that should have been there. He swallowed hard, a wave of heat coursed through him, and he gripped the steering wheel tighter to stop his hand from reaching out to touch. He wanted to trail his fingers up the smooth skin of your thigh, to feel the warmth beneath his palm.

"Cutie..." he breathed out, voice low and rough with sudden desire. He tore his gaze away from the tempting view, forcing himself to focus on the road. But he couldn't unsee the image burned into his mind.

Rafayel took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure as he watched you sit back down and apply your lipstick, oblivious to the effect your little display had on him. He swallowed hard, his pants suddenly feeling far too tight and constricting. He forced his gaze back to the road, but he could still see you in his peripheral vision, the way your lips pursed and pressed together as you applied the color. He imagined tasting that lipstick, tasting you, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Almost there," he muttered, more to himself than to you. He just needed to get through this damn show, and then...then he could focus on indulging in the fantasies running wild through his imagination.

He parked the car in the furthest spot from the gallery entrance, the tires crunching on the gravel as he brought the vehicle to a stop. He turned to you, a grin spreading across his face, eyes glinting with mischief. He reached out, tracing a finger lightly along your jawline, tilting your chin up towards him. His thumb brushed over your newly applied lipstick, smearing the vibrant color slightly.

"Mm, I like this shade," he murmured, voice low and flirtatious. "It reminds me of the color of your lips when I've kissed you breathless...on all of your lips. You see, I remember exactly what you look like, all pink and swollen and glistening, when I've had my face buried between your thighs for hours," his voice was a low, hypnotic rumble. "When I've licked and sucked and teased your clit until you're writhing and begging for release. His hand slid down to your knee, fingers trailing up along your inner thigh, inching higher and higher. His touch was electric, setting off sparks of pleasure that raced through your veins. He watched the blush spread across your cheeks, your thighs clenching together at his bold words. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin, could smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne.His fingers inched higher up your thigh, his touch bold and purposeful. You knew that somehow he had figured out your little secret. The heat in his gaze told you that much.

"Open your legs for me, cutie, let me see those pretty lips again, the ones that are hiding from me right now." His hand slid higher, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin at the apex of your thighs. He didn't touch you directly, not yet, but he was close. So close that you could feel the anticipation building, could feel your core starting to throb with need.

"Come on," he purred, "don't make me wait. I know you're not wearing anything under that dress. I saw a glimpse of paradise back there."

He licked his lips, eyes gleaming with hunger. "Now be a good girl and open up for me, like you did last night when I had you spreading yourself wide open on my tongue."

His breath hitched as you slowly parted your thighs for him, revealing your bare pussy. His eyes darkened with lust at the sight. "Fuck,..." he breathed, voice rough with desire. "Look at you, so pretty and pink and ready for me." His fingers traced teasingly along your slit, not quite touching, just barely grazing your skin.

Rafayel didn't seem to care about the growing crowd in the parking lot. His focus was solely on you, on the sight of your bare cunt glistening in the fading light. He leaned in closer, the leather of his car seat creaking as he pulled it back giving himself more room.

He slid his hands under your thighs, gripping them tightly as he pulled you closer to the edge of your seat. Your dress rode up around your waist, fully exposing your bare, glistening sex to his eyes.

"Wrap your legs around my shoulders," he commanded, settling between your thighs. "I'm going to make you cum so hard, you won't care if the whole fucking world sees." His hands gripped your lower back tightly as he pulled you up and forward, your head resting on the armrest, your legs draping over his shoulders. He could feel the heat radiating off your core, could smell your intoxicating arousal. It made his cock throb and ache with the need to be inside you.

"Fuck, I can smell how much you want this," he groaned, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. "You're fucking drenched. So wet and ready for me." He leaned in closer, his tongue darting out to take a long, slow lick up your slit. He moaned at the taste of you, his eyes fluttering shut in bliss. "Delicious," he murmured, before diving back in for more.

"Oh god, Rafayel!" you gasped, back arching off the seat as his tongue delved deep into your aching core. Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping tight as jolts of electricity raced through your body. His hands kneaded the globes of your ass, pulling you harder against his mouth, his tongue plunging in and out of your soaked pussy.

Rafayel glanced up, taking in the now crowded parking lot. The closest car was a few spaces away, but still within clear view of anyone who cared to look in your direction. He could see people already heading towards the gallery entrance but he was too far gone to care. All he could focus on was the intoxicating taste of you on his tongue, the way your body trembled and quaked beneath his touch.

He licks you again, this time slower, he flattens his tongue and licks you from the bottom up, going particularly slow over your pulsating clit. The pressure builds as he finally does what he knows will be your undoing. His tongue swirled up to your clit with the perfect amount of pressure and you loose yourself to him and the thrashing of his tongue on your clit. The coil deep in your stomach curled painfully tight when he sucked your clit into his mouth, a strangled cry escapes you as your body falls over the edge, he plunges two fingers inside of you as you cum, and the bliss is catastrophic. You no longer cared to hold back the scream or to stop your thighs from clamping his head firmly between them.

"That's it, cutie," he praised, voice rough and ragged. "Fucking soak my face. I want everyone to know I'm the one who made you feel this good."

He didn't let up until your body went boneless, slumping back against the seat, chest heaving as you gasped for air. Only then did he pull back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a smug and thoroughly satisfied grin on his face. Rafayel quickly tugged your dress down, covering your cunt as he fumbled for his phone on the console between the seats. He put it on speaker and dialed Thomas's number, his thumb hovering over the call button.

Thomas picked up on the second ring, his voice filtering through the car's speakers. "Hello? Rafayel? We were starting to think you wouldn't make it to-"

"Hey, listen," Rafayel interrupted, his voice still rough from his exertions. "I need you to do me a favor. I...I won't be able to make it to the show tonight, something came up." He shot a meaningful glance at your flushed appearance, biting back a smirk.

"Tell everyone I apologize for my absence and that I'll make it up to you all soon. I have to take care of something important" He ended the call abruptly, not giving Thomas a chance to protest, and tossed the phone aside. The engine roared to life as he put the car in gear and drove out of the parking spot, leaving the gallery behind.

"Where are we going?" you asked breathlessly, still trying to catch your breath from the intensity of your orgasm.

Rafayel flashed you a wicked grin, his eyes gleaming with renewed lust and desire. "Back to my place. I'm not done with you yet, not by a long shot." He reached over, resting his hand high up on your thigh, fingers teasing the hem of your dress. "I'm going to take my time with you, explore every inch of this gorgeous body. And then, maybe, just maybe I'll give you another screaming orgasm, but this time on my cock."

[tsuyalovebot]

certified mind blower.

explicit sexual content. mdni, ageless blogs dni.

xia yi zhou / caleb x reader. (repost)

cw. drabble (~1k wc, written in one sitting. ignore any typos). afab reader. established relationship. oral sex (reader receiving). face sitting. caleb spanks you once. improper use of evol. mentions of unprotected sex & creampie. spitting (he pushes his spit into you. deadass). use of pipsqueak. caleb typical warnings (he's a filthy freak, to no one's surprise). 

mimi's missive: your honor, i have no defense for this one. anyway, it's me again; happy belated valentines. take this while i work on my full-length caleb piece; "this" being total filth. also i reposted this because i noticed way too many errors the first time i posted it. enjoy.

you're watching caleb wash the dishes when you say, "i want to sit on your face tonight."

or, one night, just before bedtime, you tell caleb that you want to try face sitting. 

he was fidgeting the entire time, no matter how calm and gentle he tried to appear while the two of you went over the details. you had no idea if he was nervous because he might end up not liking it, or because he might like it too much. 

(little did you know, he was trying his reaaal hardest to not bust a nut the second you proposed it. would caleb ever admit it? no. absolutely not. he's gotta appear cool in front of you, after all. maybe he would own up to it though, after it's all over.) 

but later that night, while he's tonguing you with that lithe, pink muscle in such a delicious, mind-boggling manner, something is piqued and it isn't your interest. your eyebrows raise with every calculated lick over the crevices, the folds, smooth with spit.

he's kind of a natural at this.

the fingers in his hair now belong to you just as much as the rest of him. "you're weirdly good at this. are you sure you've never tried this with anyone else?" 

it wasn't intended to come off insecure; you tried to deliver it as nonchalant as possible whilst your fingers were busy in his hair. 

he knows better though. caleb peers up at you with those stupidly beady eyes—now, however, they were droopy with a deeply rooted contentment. you feel him smile, loopy, drunk on your flavor. you wonder if he'd willingly let himself be suffocated under your body weight like this.

"hmm?" 

the vibrations would make any person's toes curl, traitorous thighs flexing around his head. the idiot moans in unabashed approval, low and shameless as he keeps his eyes on you. 

one large palm of his takes a greedily handful of your ass, and smacks. hot air is breathed out over your skin, his tongue flat against the tender flesh, drinking up the flood of arousal that soaked your labia. 

"questionin' my loyalty after all these years? when i've got my mouth full of you? i'm wounded," he dryly replies. despite his words, he doesn't sound mad at all. more pleased, if anything, undoubtedly by the way it fed his ego. 

you huff, bottom lip jutting out.  "well, you seem plenty experienced—"

"eh, not really."

caleb's adjusting the position with a tight, guiding grip so you weren't fully seated down on him. blowing onto the perky, swollen hood at the apex of your core. enamored, he was drinking in every groove and fold of your bare sex. embarrassment creeps up your spine with a vengeance so violent, you nearly bolt. 

he muses quietly, "dreams will never compare to the real thing." 

"what're you—"

"ah-ah-ah. talk later. also, weirdly good? what's your basis for comparison, huh?"

caleb pulls you back down, groaning hotly as the taste floods his palate. the ravenous glitter in those smoldering lilac eyes reduce him into something primal, wanting to satiate his most base needs. and that was only possible through you. 

and you're keening above him, hands frantically holding onto the headboard in a series of breathless gasps. it's cute; it makes him internally cheese at his effect on you. unfortunately, you don't seem to share the same sentiment, because you're promptly trying to get off of his head as your stomach tenses.

"caleb," you moan, and some branch of his sanity snaps clean off. 

it shatters when you absentmindedly grind your hips, fucking dragging the folds of your cunt up his chin, lips, nudging his nose, leaving a trail of your slick and his spit on his face. 

a plea from you, "wait, it's too direct—"

shrapnels of iridescent midnight and scarlet spark around your hips, fireworks in the palm of your hands. it takes a moment to register, but he devours the transformation of your expression nonetheless. the dazed look, the confusion, the realization. 

and caleb's the picture boy of arrogance as he activates his evol, forcing you to stay in position. the indignation that sparks in your body is only minimized by the thick, sweet moisture that drips onto his chin, one he's eager to lap up, the ambrosia honeyed in the back of his throat.

the world was truly cruel for ever trying to separate the both of you.

"since when did i say you could move? you can't just get up and leave me here, pipsqueak. surely, you aren't cruel enough to deny me some bonding with you." 

the tip of his tongue dips into the soft hole of your sex, curling experimentally. air humming around your bodies, one arm curled over your thigh, the other hand snaking around to smooth over your chest as he spells his name into your cunt. 

c-a-l-e-b. 

then in morse code, dragged out lines and probes. 

then his last name. 

and m-i-n-e.

"if signing papers at work was as easy as this, i'd have more allies than i have enemies." he hums in satisfaction, utterly lovesick as he drags his sticky lips up to suck on your clitoris, savoring the way your muscles tense and quiver in anticipation of your climbing orgasm. he can't wait to taste that.

"you're just as mouthy down here as you are up there, y'know," he comments, eyelids crinkling into crescent moons. as if he didn't say something so profoundly lewd that it'd make any sex enthusiast blush. 

"you must really like talking to me more than you let on." 

he plants a smooch over your drooling entrance, affectionate, as if it'd silence the little squelching noises it made with every slow contraction of your inner muscles. 

contemplation solidifies into surety on his handsome face, his hungry eyes turning into something more tangy, more mischievous. the crackles of his evol warp around you. 

you get the sudden, immense feeling that you're in for it. that you're in danger.

he presses his mouth up to your core, stare intent and full of a love so potent you think you're gonna be sick. "do you think if i come inside, it'll swallow just like you do?"

the air leaves your lungs. you wheeze, "caleb—"

"you'd let me test it, right?" he asks, voice softened by the need edging behind it. "you're always so good. you'd let me, wouldn't you?"

before you could retort on how he was asking so many questions, you're suddenly being flipped. the world spins, and you mistakenly take it as the end of the entire damn universe, squeezing your eyes shut as wind lashes at your skin and your back hits the cushion. 

when you open them, you're kind of bent. upper body splayed on the bedspread, your lower body awkwardly held up by caleb's arms — thighs still snug on either side of his head. now, he's urgently tucking pillows underneath your hips, angling you up, smearing another kiss onto your cunt. everything done with such fluidity, not an ounce of struggle in his taut, muscular form. 

then he spits, and you flinch. before you could even ask what the hell he was doing, he buries his face into you, tongue shamelessly pushing and pulsing against your spasming pussy — letting his spittle pool in there like a filthy brand. heat boils in your lower belly, burning your skin and you're clenching before you could think it through.

"fuck," he whispers. the rare curse slipping like a prayer from his swollen lips, awe heavy in his inflection. "you really drank it up." 

was the bedroom always this hot?

caleb, once so composed and the epitome of restraint, appeared voracious from this position. and the sight of your cunt squeezing around air, pulling the webbed mixture of his saliva and your arousal into the sinful cradle of your walls. 

gravity is the coil of a snake around your body, and you're the very fruit he's craved. caleb hums, thoughtful and pleased, just before diving back in, "let's find out."

[connorsui]

Zayne and Caleb having the most normal schedules out of everybody else ...I can't- ...xavier please wake up pookie and why is sylus eating for three hours I'm cryinnn

[khioneee]

ORGAN THIEF

synopsis. you tell yourself caleb was never yours to have, so you let zayne get close. until caleb decides he doesn’t like to share. warnings. jealousy. mentions of violence. angst. pairings. caleb x reader (x zayne) word count. 7k. an. felt like crying tbh. might edit later.

when you were young, there was no such thing as distance between you and caleb.

you were always together, moving through life side by side, never questioning it. there were scraped knees from racing down the street, grass stains from summers spent lying in the backyard, and lazy afternoons where he let you steal food from his plate without complaint. nights meant whispered conversations under blanket forts, his voice always the last thing you heard before sleep took you.

you grew up together, side by side, pulling each other out of the awkwardness of childhood, shedding timidity like second skin.

caleb and y/n, y/n and caleb.

here’s y/n.

here’s caleb.

here's a bond that no one else quite understands.

your love for caleb hasn’t changed, but it’s grown into something you didn’t understand. can’t understand. not yet.

but caleb has grown. taller, sharper, still careless with his hair, but just as hopeless at tying his tie in the morning. there’s a natural ease to him now, a quiet confidence that draws people in without effort. he doesn’t just enter a room, he shifts the atmosphere, commanding attention without needing to say a word.

you hear the way the girls in the hallways whisper about him, their voices hushed but excited, their eyes lighting up when he so much as glances in their direction. he’s the kind of person people gravitate toward, like planets drawn to the pull of the sun.

kind. athletic. smart. golden.

the one who remembers names, who helps the new kid find their classes, who scores the winning shot and shrugs like it was never in question.

when caleb talks to people, he makes them feel important, like they’re the only one in the room, like whatever they’re saying is the most interesting thing he’s ever heard. he finds beauty in everything, in everyone, and in return, people can’t help but see the same in him. they admire him, look up to him, want to be close to him.

but they also fear him.

they don’t realize it at first. not until they get too close to you.

at first, you didn’t think much of it.

the way conversations with guys ended abruptly, how some hesitated before sitting next to you, or how your lab partner, who had been openly flirting with you just the day before, suddenly kept his distance. his easy confidence had dulled overnight, his laughter forced, his eyes avoiding yours.

maybe it was just a coincidence, a strange pattern you convinced yourself wasn’t worth questioning. but then it started happening more often. the brief glances, the quiet goodbyes, the way some of caleb’s teammates barely acknowledged you despite knowing that you were close.

still, you never questioned it. because, in the end, it never really bothered you.

caleb had always been like that.

like how he insisted you wear his jersey at his games. the first time, he tossed it at you casually, like it was an afterthought. ‘now they’ll all know exactly who you’re watching.’

you rolled your eyes but pulled it on anyway, ignoring how it smelled faintly of his cologne and sweat. after that, it became a habit. if you ever showed up without it, he’d pull it from his bag and toss it over. no words, no discussion.

or how he always left his jacket with you when you were cold. it didn’t matter if you insisted you were fine. if he caught you rubbing your arms or tucking your hands into your sleeves, his jacket would be around your shoulders before you could protest. warm, a little too big, and never once did he ask for it back.

if you returned it to his room later, he’d only shrug like he hadn’t expected it back in the first place.

and then there were the small things. how he always found a way to sit next to you, even when his friends were at another table. how he would drop by your class between periods, casually placing a snack on your desk before walking off without a word. he never explained why, and you never asked.

maybe you should have questioned it more.

but the thing that stood out the most was that caleb never introduced you as his sister.

it would’ve been the easiest thing to say. it would have explained the connection, the way you were always around each other, how naturally you fit into his life. but he never said it. not once.

until people noticed.

one day, after a game, one of his teammates finally asked.

‘so, she’s your sister, huh?’ the guy grinned, nudging caleb in the ribs.

caleb didn’t respond immediately, just looked at him, unreadable.

the guy smirked, pushing further. ‘should i start calling you brother-in-law, then?’

you expected caleb to laugh it off, maybe roll his eyes or shove the guy off like he usually would. but he didn’t. his response was smooth, controlled, and too even.

‘she’s off-limits.’

there was no room for argument.

his teammate hesitated, raising his hands in mock surrender before forcing out a laugh. ‘damn, man. didn’t know it was like that.’

you didn’t think much of it.

not until a few days later, when that same teammate got injured at practice.

a bad fall, they said.

a collision that left him with a bruised eye and a limp that lasted over a week.

accidents happen all the time in sports. it was easy to write it off as bad luck.

but when you glanced at caleb, standing on the sidelines, unbothered, indifferent with bruises along his knuckles, you felt something shift in your stomach.

maybe you should have been mad. maybe you should have confronted him, called him out, demanded an explanation.

not because it was unfair.

not because it was wrong.

but because you liked it too much.

you liked the way caleb made it impossible for anyone else to get too close. the way his hand lingered at the small of your back when he guided you through a crowded hallway. the way he always waited for you after school, even when you had nothing planned.

the way he looked at you sometimes. like there was something simmering beneath the surface, something unspoken and dangerous and impossible.

and that was the problem.

because he wasn’t yours.

because he was supposed to be your best friend.your family. the one person you shouldn’t want.

you understood now. the love you had for him has grown to fill the spaces you didn’t have when you were a child. it’s grown into longing and desire and jealousy, something so fucking powerful and essential that there isn’t a piece of you that doesn’t love him.

so you did the only thing you could think of.

you avoided him.

at first, caleb let it slide, pretending not to notice the way you pulled away. he let you ignore him in the hallways, let you skip out on lunches, let you slip past him at home without so much as a glance. maybe he thought you just needed space, that whatever was wrong would work itself out on its own.

but after a few weeks, the cracks started to show. he stopped lingering after class, stopped waiting for you outside your door, stopped trying to pull you back into his orbit. the easy confidence he carried dulled, his smirks a little less sharp, his presence not as loud. he wasn’t himself, and he knew it.

then, one day, he cornered you after the last period.

the hallway had mostly emptied, students filtering out in groups, their voices fading into the distance. but caleb wasn’t moving. he stood in front of you, arms crossed, blocking your path, his amethyst eyes sharp and unwavering.

‘you’re avoiding me.’

it wasn’t a question.

your stomach twisted, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. ‘i’m not.’

his jaw clenched, his expression unreadable. ‘bullshit.’

you exhaled slowly, willing your voice to stay steady. ‘i’ve just been busy.’

he scoffed, shaking his head. ‘right. too busy to come out of your room? too busy to even lok at me? we live in the same house, y/n. you don’t just disappear on me.’

you swallowed, opening your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. caleb ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply, frustration radiating off of him.

‘so you win. whatever it is i did, i’m sorry. now will you please fucking forgive me and put us both out of our misery?’

the words hit harder than you expected. he thought this was about him. he thought he had done something wrong. and worst of all, he looked miserable. bruises under his eyes, the tell–tale signs of too little sleep. heartbreak seeping through the sunshine boy's skin and weaving its way through his veins and making rivers.

the weight of it crashed into you all at once, the lump in your throat impossible to swallow. before you could stop it, your vision blurred.

caleb’s face shifted the moment he saw the tears, his frustration dissolving into something softer.

his shoulders relaxed, his hands twitching at his sides before he finally reached for you, pulling you in without hesitation. his warmth wrapped around you, solid and steady, his breath slow against your hair. his fingers found their way to your hip, his lips pressing lightly against your forehead, his presence sinking into you in a way that felt painfully familiar.

and you didn’t resist.

because despite everything, despite the space you had tried to put between you, despite how complicated things had become, caleb still felt safe.

so you pressed into his touch, letting yourself breathe him in, letting yourself forget, just for a moment, that you had ever tried to let him go.

friends, friends, friends.

he held you close, his voice rough with emotion. ‘i’m sorry, pipsqueak,’ he muttered against your hair. ‘whatever i did or said, i’m sorry, okay?’

you didn’t answer.

you couldn’t.

because the truth was—

you were the one who needed to apologize.

because this was never about him.

it was about you.

and the fact that no matter how hard you tried, you could never, ever stop wanting him.

too much, too much. you wanted caleb too much, want too much always, but you are not together and you had to accept that.

caleb’s pinky locked into yours. you weren’t sure if it’s another apology or a source of comfort you need in your state, or just plain habit, but he’s touching you (friends, friends, friends) and that’s all you really need to know.

because despite everything, caleb still felt like home.

but home didn’t last.

caleb starts staying out late.

at first, it’s nothing. just a few nights out, a way to kill time.

you hear about it through his teammates, offhand mentions from gran when she asks if he’s home yet. It doesn’t bother you.

caleb has always been social, always had people orbiting around him, always found ways to fill the spaces in his life.

but then it becomes a habit. the late nights turn into early mornings, his weekends disappear into parties, and soon enough, it feels like he’s never home. he moves through the house like a ghost, slipping in while everyone else is asleep and leaving before anyone notices.

and you notice.

you notice the way he comes back smelling like perfume that isn’t his, how his lips are redder than before, how his amethyst eyes seem heavier, dimmer, weighed down by something you don’t recognize. you see the kiss stains on his neck, the scratches down his back.

you wish they hurt. you wish you left them there.

you don’t avoid him, not entirely, but you don’t talk to him the same way. your words are clipped, your tone indifferent. you stop waiting for him after school, stop lingering in doorways to say goodnight, stop reaching for him first.

when he nudges your shoulder, slings an arm around you, tugs on your sleeve like he always does, you pull away before he can get too close.

and caleb notices.

at first, he brushes it off, shrugs like it doesn’t matter. he teases you the way he always does, pokes and prods, waiting for you to roll your eyes and shove him back. but the space between you keeps growing, stretching into something neither of you know how to name.

he stays out later. comes home smelling stronger, marked up worse, his voice hoarse in the mornings like he’s been screaming into the night. he looks at you, waiting for a reaction.

but you don’t give him one.

and for the first time in your life, caleb stops trying.

the sky was falling weeks later when the door of your own room opens. blinking sleepily, you leaned over and flicked on the bedside lamp. he swayed against the wall, there is purple and green pressed all over his skin.

it’s caleb, whose lips are swollen again.

it’s late. too late.

the smell of beer clings to him, mixed with something sweeter. something that isn’t his.

his hoodie is loose, his hair messy, his steps uneven as he leans against your doorframe, eyes heavy-lidded but sharp as they land on you.

‘you mad at me, pipsqueak?’ his voice is lower than usual, playful, teasing, but there’s something behind it. something that isn’t entirely a joke.

your lamp lit up the dark bruise on his neck in a ghastly light. you could still see the fingertips, could feel the ghost of them pressing into his skin. friends.

your hand goes white–knuckled, gripping into the sheets. ‘go to bed, caleb.’

‘i’ll sleep in your bed,’ he mutters, like it’s obvious. like it’s true. like you’ll agree without doubt.

you exhale, shaking your head. ‘you’re drunk.’

‘and?’ he counters, stepping into your space, his smirk faltering just slightly. ‘you say that like it changes anything.’

you don’t answer.

because maybe it doesn’t.

he peeled off his hoodie without a word. there are red fingernail marks on the ridge of his spine and bruises on his hips, signs from the girl with perfume you smelled on him last night, the girl who gets to touch caleb in the places you can’t.

he watches you for a long moment, his eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to figure something out. and then, finally—

‘i don’t get it.’ his voice is quieter now, more serious. ‘what did i do?’

you settled back against the bed. ‘nothing.’

‘bullshit.’ he laughs, but there’s no humor in it. ‘you’ve barely looked at me in weeks, y/n. you don’t wait for me anymore. you barely talk to me. and every time i try to touch you, you act like it makes you sick.’ his jaw clenches. ‘so tell me. what the hell did i do?’

you should lie. you should push him away. you should say something sharp, something final, something that makes him leave.

but you don’t.

and caleb, drunk and tired and hurting, sees right through you.

when he reached your fingers, he thread them between your own, collecting all the pieces of your conscience and disappearing without a trace, all remnants of your soul in hand.

his expression shifts, something softer flickering across his face. and then—

his fingers graze your cheek, barely there, like he’s testing the distance between you. the touch is slow, hesitant, deliberate. like he knows he shouldn’t, but he’s never been the type to stop himself when it comes to you.

his hand moves to your hair, tucking it behind your ear with practiced ease, like it’s something second nature, like he’s done it so many times before that he doesn’t even have to think about it.

his thumb lingers, brushing over your cheek, tracing the frustration etched into your skin. it’s warm, careful, almost apologetic. like he’s trying to smooth out the anger, the hurt, the weight of everything unspoken between you.

then, softer than you’ve ever heard him, he murmurs, ‘how can i sleep if my favorite girl is mad at me?’

and when you look at him, really look at him, your breath stumbles in your chest. he knew how to do it. how to make you feel like the sun rises in his veins only for you.

because caleb doesn’t just sound tired. he looks it.

the dim light casts hollows into his features, emphasizing the exhaustion settling deep in his bones. his eyes, usually sharp and full of mischief, are duller now, heavier, shadowed by something that feels dangerously close to regret. there’s no cocky grin, no teasing glint.

just quiet, aching exhaustion.

for the first time, caleb looks small. like the saddest man on earth, like he’s holding onto something he doesn’t know how to fix.

you couldn't help but think of the amount of stars that had fallen with every step he took with a frown.

and it wrecks you.

you wanted to hold him, but you knew you’ll be left with burned fingertips and calloused heart.

because he smells like beer and someone else’s perfume. because there are scratches on his back that weren’t made by your hands. because he has no right to touch you this softly after spending his nights with people who don’t know him the way you do.

because no matter how much you wish you didn’t care. you do.

and so, despite everything, despite the weight pressing against your ribs, despite knowing you shouldn’t. out control, out of control, out of—

you kiss him.

for a tense, breathless second, he didn’t move.

his body stiff, frozen, caught somewhere between hesitation and something else entirely.

and then, you felt it.

his hands sliding up, fingers threading into your hair, gripping tight.

and then for a second. just a second. he kisses you back.

it’s desperate, reckless, a collision of everything you’ve been holding back. his lips taste like beer, and you don’t care. your fingers grip his hair, pulling him closer.

his lips crashed against yours, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless.

a quiet moan escaped you, swallowed by the heat of him, by the way his hands moved down, gripping, pulling, like he couldn’t bear the space between you.

then, he tore himself away from you. friends.

tepping back so fast it felt like the air had been knocked out of your lungs. the warmth of his mouth, his hands, his presence, gone in an instant, leaving behind nothing but the sharp contrast of cold in his absence.

your eyes snapped open, breath uneven, pulse hammering as you stared at him, trying to make sense of what had just happened. caleb stood right in front of you, his chest rising and falling too quickly, his disheveled hair messier than before, his lips still swollen from the kiss. his amethyst eyes were dark, unreadable, but something about them made your stomach twist.

because he knew.

he knew what this kiss meant. he knew what you felt, what you had been too afraid to say. he knew you had shattered whatever fragile barrier had been keeping this moment at bay. he knew.

and yet, he smiled.

not the kind that comforted, not the kind that softened his sharp edges. this one was different. it was hollow, something cold curling at the edges, something sharp enough to cut through you with ease.

‘had enough practice?’

his voice was light, almost amused, as if the kiss had been nothing at all, as if it hadn’t just unraveled you completely. you could only stare, frozen in place, his words slicing through you before you even had the chance to process them.

and you took it for what it was, a dagger to the heart.

then, with careful, deliberate movements, he stepped back, putting more space between you, widening a distance that already felt impossible to cross. his hand raked through his hair, a humorless chuckle escaping his lips, but there was no real amusement in it.

‘if you just wanted to get your first kiss over with, you could’ve told me.’ the words were effortless, thrown out like they meant nothing, but there was something in the way his voice faltered at the end that made your stomach drop. his gaze flickered over you for a second, lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, wasn’t quite anything at all. ‘guess now you’re ready for the real thing with whoever you actually want.’

your mouth opened, but no words came out.

it didn’t matter. caleb didn’t wait for a response. he exhaled sharply, his eyes lingering for a beat too long before he turned away. there was no hesitation in his steps, no second glance, nothing to suggest that this moment had shaken him the way it had shaken you.

and then, just like that, he was gone.

he doesn't think, doesn't wait, doesn't want.

he just leaves.

disappearing into the dark, leaving you standing there, cold, alone, and regretting everything.

and maybe that was the moment you lost him.

y/n and caleb, and it's hard to tell where one end and the other begins. there probably isn't a difference, and trying to draw the line would doom the both of you.

this time, caleb starts avoiding you.

and this time, you know exactly why.

it’s different now. worse. because he doesn’t just disappear at school. he disappears at home, too.

you hear him tell gran he has practice when you know he doesn’t. you catch glimpses of him slipping out late at night, hood up, car keys dangling from his fingers. when he comes back, it’s always late, long after the house has gone quiet.

you pretend not to hear the front door creak open, the careful shuffle of his footsteps down the hall, the way he pauses outside your door for just a second before moving on.

he doesn’t look at you.

not in the morning when you pass each other in the kitchen, not when you sit at opposite ends of the dinner table, not when gran asks him a question and he answers without ever acknowledging the weight of your silence. the air between you is thick, heavy with everything unspoken, but neither of you say a word.

at school, it’s even worse.

you used to know exactly where to find him: leaning against his locker, sprawled across the lunch table, laughing too loudly, always moving, always there. but now, he’s everywhere except near you.

and when you do see him, it’s only for a second. a glance across the hallway before he looks away. a flicker of amethyst eyes lost in a crowd. an almost-moment before he disappears again, slipping into someone else’s world, somewhere you don’t belong.

you should’ve expected this. you should’ve known that kiss, your first kiss, would wreck everything.

but somehow, it still hurts.

and what’s worse, what makes your stomach twist, what makes your skin feel too tight and your throat close up, is that you hate yourself for it.

you hate yourself for wanting it.

for wanting him.

you feel disgusted when you think about it, about how easily you caved, about how much you liked it, about the way his hands felt on your skin, his lips against yours. you hate that even now, when you close your eyes, you can still feel it, still want it, still crave the weight of him against you like a sickness you don’t know how to cure.

so you do what you can. you push forward. you stop waiting.

and that was when you met him.

it started with a name, called out in class like it meant nothing.

‘zayne and y/n.’

your biology teacher paired you together for a semester-long project, and you hadn’t expected anything from it. zayne wasn’t someone you had paid much attention to before, and when he pulled out the chair beside you, there was no hesitation, no awkwardness, just quiet acceptance.

‘looks like we’re partners.’ his tone was even, uninterested, like he was already calculating how much effort this would require.

‘looks like it.’you mirrored his indifference, expecting nothing more than a few study sessions and a forgettable final grade.

but it wasn’t just another assignment.

zayne wasn’t like caleb.

he didn’t overthink his place beside you, didn’t steal glances to gauge what others might think. he wasn’t loud, wasn’t overbearing, didn’t fill the silence with pointless conversation just to make his presence known. he was steady, self-contained, comfortable in the quiet. after weeks of feeling like you were walking on eggshells, that steadiness ws a relief.

at first, your time together was purely academic.

library meetings that were structured and efficient, an easy rhythm of work that never strayed beyond the boundaries of your project. but then, something changed. lunches became routine, neither of you discussing it but always sitting at the same table. walks to class happened naturally, steps falling in sync without effort. conversations stretched beyond assignments and deadlines, carrying into late-night messages about things that had nothing to do with school.

zayne told you about his love for the winter, and how he would sneak out during the first snow fall. you told him about the time you and caleb got caught sneaking out, how caleb had talked his way out of trouble while you stood there panicking.

unlike caleb, zayne didn’t tease, didn’t turn your stories into jokes at your expense. he just listened, nodded like he was actually picturing it.

too kind, too understanding, too much of exactly what you needed.

somewhere along the way, you became friends. and soon, you were always together.

dinners with gran started to change. it used to be the three of you. gran, caleb, and you.

but caleb started skipping them, claiming he was busy, always finding somewhere else to be, never home long enough for it to feel like anything but an excuse.

zayne, on the other hand, filled the space caleb left behind.

it started as a casual invitation.

gran insisting he stay after studying, reassuring him there was more than enough food. he had accepted without fuss, without hesitation, and from that night on, his place at the table never felt out of place. gran told stories you had heard a thousand times before, and zayne listened to every one of them, nodding along, asking questions like he hadn’t already picked up on the details from you.

he wasn’t a replacement for caleb.

but he was something constant.

then one afternoon, you and zayne crossed paths with caleb in the hallway.

there was no tension, no hesitation, no moment of discomfort where zayne second-guessed himself. he just looked at caleb, gave a simple nod in acknowledgment, and kept walking, like it was nothing.

like caleb was no one special.

like he wasn’t even worth a second thought.

caleb didn’t say anything. he just stood there, watching.

but you knew that wasn’t the end of it.

and you were right.

the moment the wrong boy fell in love with you. and you wished he could pull out your heart, and make him see that you fell in love with the wrong boy too.

that was why you were here, standing in the biting cold, surrounded by barren fields of frost, with zayne’s rare laughter curling into the air like something warm, something that was meant to feel safe. that was why you let him get close, why you let yourself believe, even for a moment, that this could be enough.

you shouldn’t have been thinking about caleb.

so you focused on the wrong boy instead.

on the way his voice carried in the quiet, on how he walked beside you without hesitation, how his presence didn’t ask for anything more than what you were willing to give. he wasn’t waiting for you to figure things out, wasn’t demanding answers you didn’t have. he was just there. steady. certain.

maybe that was what love was supposed to feel like when you didn’t want it. something easy, something quiet, something that didn’t threaten to tear you apart.

but it still didn’t fit right in your chest.

‘we’re here.’

zayne’s voice pulled you back, his excitement evident in his eyes as he gestured toward the sled he had set up.

you blinked at it, then at him. ‘are you serious?’

he grinned, brushing the snow off the seat before tossing his scarf around your shoulders, adjusting it with careful hands. the fabric was thick and slightly uneven, the pattern something you wouldn’t have picked for yourself, but it was warm, and it smelled like him.

you raised an eyebrow, eyeing the details.

‘gran taught me how to knit,’ he admitted, a flicker of amusement in his expression.

your fingers traced the edges of the scarf as you exhaled. ‘it’s nice.’

and it was.

you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry over how endearing it was, how easily he gave things to you, how much he seemed to mean it. he could have handed you anything, and you would have taken it, because this. this moment, this feeling. was already too much.

then, without a word, he just looked at you.

not a passing glance. not a fleeting moment of consideration.

zayne never did things halfway.

when he looked at you, he made sure you knew.

his hazel eyes were bright despite the winter gray, his expression unreadable but not indifferent. there was something certain about the way he watched you, something steady in the way his gaze settled, like he was memorizing the shape of you.

like he took in every detail.

the way the cold had flushed your cheeks, the way your breath curled into the air, the way the weight of the moment made your fingers tremble against the scarf.

‘is there something on my face?’ you asked, startled by the intensity in his stare.

he shook his head, his gaze flickering slightly before settling again. ‘i wish i had more time with you.’

the words were quiet, simple, but the weight of them landed hard.

you swallowed, pulse stuttering, because there was something in the way he said it that made your chest ache. he didn’t say it like a passing thought, didn’t say it like he was reaching for something just out of grasp. he said it like he knew.

like he already understood that whatever this was, whatever you were, had an expiration date.

his eyes dropped, just for a second, barely noticeable, but enough.

enough to know what he was thinking.

enough to know that if you leaned in, he wouldn’t stop you.

and for a fleeting moment, you wanted to.

not because it was right. not because it was real.

but because you needed to forget.

you needed something to press over the ache in your chest, something to drown out the weight of caleb’s absence, the sound of his voice in your head, the way he had always, always been there. until he wasn’t.

but you didn’t.

because it would have been a lie.

‘gran, we’ve talked about this—‘

caleb’s voice cut through the air, sharp with frustration, breaking the moment before it had the chance to solidify into something real.

‘no, you talked. an aviation school halfway across the country? when there are good ones right here? what’s wrong with being close to home?’

the front door creaked open, and as if time couldn’t be any crueler, gran and caleb stepped outside.

his presence was immediate, impossible to ignore.

caleb had always carried himself like he belonged in any space he occupied, but now, standing in the cold with the weight of an argument still lingering between him and gran, he felt like something distant. something storming just beneath the surface, unreadable and untouchable.

zayne sighed, shifting beside you, but you barely noticed.

because while he was looking at you, you were looking at caleb.

your stomach twisted, the weight in your chest pressing down harder, suffocating in a way you didn’t understand.

‘and i know it’s far. i know it’s hard. but it’s not about running away.’ caleb’s voice was firm, steady, like he had already made up his mind. he barely hesitated before adding, ‘this is what’s best for me. for all of us.’

and just like that, it was over.

he turned before anyone could argue, before you could even process what he had said, stepping back into the warmth of the house.

the door clicked shut behind him, and somehow, that sound felt louder than anything else.

you don't know what's love and what's hate now. if there is a difference between the two of you, y/n and caleb, here.

later that evening, you fell.

it was late, exhaustion pulling at your limbs as you trudged up the stairs, arms full of books. zayne followed a few steps behind, his pace unhurried, hands tucked into his pockets as he listened to you yap.

you were mid-sentence, distracted by the conversation, too focused on the warmth of another presence at your side to notice the uneven step beneath your feet.

your toe caught the edge, and before you could react, your balance shifted forward. books tilted dangerously in your grasp before slipping from your fingers as gravity pulled you down. your stomach lurched, breath catching in your throat—

but you never hit the ground.

zayne’s hand wrapped firmly around your wrist, his other pressing against your waist with steady ease. his grip was strong, grounding, keeping you upright before you even had the chance to panic. your breathing was uneven, heart hammering from the sudden shock, your body tensed from the lingering adrenaline.

for a moment, neither of you moved.

his fingers still pressed against your skin, his touch neither hurried or hesitant. . he had caught you, steadied you, and yet he didn’t let go.

you became painfully aware of the way his chest hovered just inches from yours, the warmth of his palm burning through your shirt.

when you looked up at him, his expression was unreadable. calm, composed, but something else lingered beneath the surface. he wasn’t just looking at you. he was waiting.

waiting for you to move. waiting for you to step back. waiting for your permission.

and that was what made your pulse stutter.

it’s too much and it’s never enough.

you should have pulled away. should have created space. should have let the moment pass as nothing more than a near fall. but you didn’t.

because then, his gaze flickered. just slightly, just for a second. before his eyes dropped to your lips.

your breath hitched, and before you could process what was happening, a voice shattered the moment.

‘y/n? zayne?’

gran’s voice, light, amused, pulling you back to reality.

and then—

‘what the fuck?’

caleb.

your entire body locked up, tension snapping through your muscles as your head turned toward the sound.

he stood at the end of the hall, unmoving, his eyes dark, expression unreadable. his jaw clenched, the muscle ticking, his hands curled into tight fists at his sides.

he wasn’t just watching. he was seeing something he wasn’t supposed to.

zayne, still close, exhaled a quiet chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck, as if this was nothing, as if caleb wasn’t standing there barely a few feet away. gran smirked, clearly entertained by whatever she thought was happening.

caleb did not.

he didn’t speak, didn’t demand an explanation, didn’t so much as glance in your direction. he just turned on his heel and walked away, disappearing down the hall without another word.

and somehow, that was worse.

dinner was slow, thick with something unspoken, the weight of the evening settling over the table like a fog.

gran, as oblivious as ever, carried the conversation, her voice the only thing filling the silence. ‘he’s going to be a doctor, y/n,’ she said, beaming like it was something worth celebrating.

zayne gave a polite shake of his head, still eating, still composed, his presence unwavering despite the obvious tension in the room. ‘still got a long way to go.’

but the real shift came when caleb sat down.

for the first time in weeks, he joined dinner.

he didn’t make an excuse, didn’t disappear before the plates hit the table, didn’t claim to have somewhere else to be.

he was here. silent, stiff, but here.

his fork scraped against his plate, but he barely ate. his shoulders were tense, his fingers gripping the edge of the table just a little too tightly. he answered when spoken to, voice clipped, his eyes fixed on his food, refusing to meet yours.

zayne, on the other hand, didn’t react. he carried himself with the same quiet steadiness as always, like nothing had changed, like caleb’s presence, or his anger, meant nothing to him. he didn’t fidget, didn’t acknowledge the storm brewing across the table, didn’t shift under the weight of caleb’s unspoken frustration.

and that made it worse.

but you noticed.

caleb was stiff, his usual relaxed posture replaced with something rigid, something tense. his grip on his fork was just a little too tight, his knuckles flexing under the strain. he barely touched his food, answering gran’s questions with clipped responses, his voice measured, controlled.

through it all, he never once looked at you.

your stomach twisted, the weight of his silence pressing down on you more than any harsh words ever could. it wasn’t like caleb to hold back, it wasn't like him to sit in the same room as you and act as if you didn’t exist. but tonight, he was locked in his own storm, letting it brew under the surface, making sure you felt it, even if he refused to acknowledge you.

then, after zayne left, gran turned to caleb, her gaze slow and assessing, studying him the way only she could. she took a sip of her tea, setting the cup down with a quiet clink before speaking, her tone light but deliberate.

‘zayne is a good boy, but whether he’s good enough for you...’ she let the words linger just long enough to make them feel heavier before tilting her head toward caleb, watching for a reaction. ‘what do you think, caleb?’

the shift in him was subtle.

a slight tightening of his jaw, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression, the barely-there twitch of his fingers against the table. you barely had time to process it before he moved, smooth and purposefully, his arm slipping around your shoulders like it belonged there.

his grip was warm, steady, and possessive.

‘i think,’ he said, his voice softer than usual, the perfect balance of ease and sincerity, ‘as long as pipsqueak’s happy, then i’m happy too.’

the words were convincing.

to anyone else, they would have sounded effortless, genuine even. but you knew him. you knew the calm in his voice when he was anything but. you knew the way he smiled when he wanted to bite back something sharper. you knew the restraint in his touch, the tension running just beneath the surface.

and right now, caleb wasn’t just mad.

he was furious.

furious that you had kept something from him. furious that you had let someone else too close. furious that, for the first time, there wasn’t a single thing he could do about it.

later that night, when you knock on his door, he opens it immediately, like he had been waiting.

the hallway is dim, the only light spilling from his room, casting sharp shadows across his face. the space between you feels suffocating, thick with something unspoken, something heavy you aren’t ready to name.

his expression is unreadable, his face carefully blank, but you see it anyway.

the tension in his shoulders, the way his grip tightens around the doorknob, the barely restrained control in the way he stands, like he’s holding himself back.

your pulse thrums in your throat as you force the words out. ‘did you mean it?’

caleb doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, his silence stretching unbearably between you.

you swallow hard, pushing forward even as your stomach twists. ‘as long as i’m happy?’

a second passes, then another. his jaw tightens, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he finally answers.

‘no.’

the word lands between you like a blow. it should make things clearer, should make it easier to understand, but instead, it only makes everything worse.

you shift on your feet, your heartbeat hammering against your ribs, but caleb just watches you, his amethyst eyes locked onto yours in a way that makes it impossible to breathe.

‘then why are you acting like this?’

there's a crack in his surface, his electric electric eyes gleaming in undetectable, hidden message. his expression was a clear indication to what he felt.he wasn't ready to hear that.

his exhale is slow, controlled, measured, but there’s something beneath it, somehing restrained. and then, just as carefully, he says it.

‘get rid of him.’

the command slices through the air, sharp and undeniable, like a final puzzle piece snapping into place. your stomach drops at the certainty in his voice, at the quiet weight behind his words.

‘i-i can’t.’ the response comes out weak, barely more than a whisper, but it’s the only thing you can give him.

something in caleb shifts instantly. his body tenses, his expression sharpening as his focus narrows completely onto you. his movements are deliberate, controlled, like he’s making a conscious effort not to move too fast, not to let whatever he’s feeling slip past the careful edges of his restraint.

‘what do you mean you can’t?’ his voice is low, steady, but there’s an edge to it, a dangerous thread of something unraveling just beneath the surface.

you look away, knowing that whatever comes next will change everything. ‘i don’t want to hurt him.’

the silence that follows is heavier than anything he could have said.

his lips press into a thin line, his shoulders squaring as the warmth in his eyes fades into something colder, something unreadable. his posture doesn’t change, but the shift in the air between you is unmistakable.

‘so you’d rather hurt me?’

the words hit you harder than they should. you weren’t prepared for them, weren’t expecting the weight they carried, the way they landed with a finality that made your chest ache.

your throat tightens, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say, don’t know how to fix whatever just cracked open between you. but caleb doesn’t look away, doesn’t take it back, doesn’t even flinch as the meaning behind his own words settles over him.

his gaze flickers, the muscle in his jaw tightening before he exhales sharply, like he’s regretting letting you see this part of him.

‘are you saying… you’re jealous?’ the words feel too fragile, too uncertain, but they leave your lips before you can stop them.

for a moment, he doesn’t move.

doesn’t breathe.

you expect him to deny it, to roll his eyes, to throw some dismissive remark at you like he always does. you expect him to do what he’s best at, pretend it doesn’t matter.

but he doesn’t.

he just watches you, his silence heavier than any answer he could have given. and then—slowly, carefully—he smirks.

‘if you want me to say i’m jealous, i will.’

his voice is smooth, effortless, light in a way that only makes your stomach twist. it should be reassuring, should make this moment feel less like a breaking point, but it doesn’t.

because it’s too easy. too casual.

like he’s still pretending.

like he’s still keeping you at a distance.

your fingers curl into fists at your sides as the frustration rises, your voice barely more than a murmur. ‘you could have just lied.’

caleb exhales sharply, tilting his head slightly, and then he moves.

too close. you're too close together for just friends.

your back presses against the wall before you even realize you’ve stepped back. his presence is everywhere, surrounding you, his warmth pulling you in even when you know you should push him away.

and then his hands are on your face, fingers cupping your jaw, steady and warm, grounding in a way that makes it impossible to think.

your pulse jumps, a sharp inhale catching in your throat as his amethyst eyes lock onto yours, the distance between you disappearing entirely. there’s no teasing in his gaze this time, no smirk, no sarcasm.

just heat.

just certainty.

his thumb brushes against your cheek, slow, deliberate, like he’s memorizing the feel of you, like he needs to. and then, his voice drops lower, softer, barely above a whisper.

‘i am jealous, baby.’

a pause.

a beat of silence so heavy you can feel it in your ribs.

his fingers tighten just slightly, his grip firm but careful, like he’s making sure you don’t move, like he doesn’t want you to look away.

you're trying to not cry now but you missed everything you never had.

and then—

‘more than you think possible.’

[gomtangii]

sweet honey!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[meinii]

“girl dad Sylus”

summary: how I imagine Sylus to act like with his baby girl ˆ ̳◝ ·̫ ◜ ̳ˆ

content: fluff, a baby!, nicknames (princess)

୨୧･｡｡･♡･∴･♡･｡｡･୨୧

the first time Sylus held her, he thought his heart might break

she was so small, so fragile in his arms, her tiny fingers curling around one of his own, barely able to hold on. but she did—her grip surprisingly firm, as if claiming him as hers

he never stood a chance

from that moment on, she owned him

and he didn’t mind.

—

“dada! look!”

his daughter’s voice rang through the grand halls of their home, bright and full of excitement. Sylus turned his head just in time to see her barreling toward him, holding something behind her back

he caught her before she could crash into his legs, lifting her effortlessly into his arms

“what is it, little princess?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head

she giggled, revealing a stuffed toy—a little red dragon

Sylus raised a brow “another one?”

she nodded eagerly “it looks like you!”

he let out a low chuckle, brushing a silver strand of hair from her face “you think I look like a dragon?”

“mhm! but a nice one,” she said, wrapping her small arms around his neck “the nicest!”

Sylus exhaled softly, pressing her closer

“of course I am,” he murmured “how could I not be when I have the prettiest little girl in the world?”

she giggled again, squirming in his hold “mama says I look like you, too!”

he smirked “oh? then she must be wrong”

she pouted “why?”

“because you look just like her”

her little brows furrowed, thinking it over. then, as if deciding this was acceptable, she nodded “okay!”

Sylus smiled, running a gentle hand through her hair

she was perfect.

—

Sylus didn’t trust anyone else to make her food

not because your chefs weren’t skilled—no, it was because he enjoyed doing it himself

he’d wake up early, rolling up his sleeves, carefully preparing her favorite meals. little sandwiches cut into stars, warm soup when she wasn’t feeling well, tiny pancakes in the shape of hearts—because she demanded it

and every single time, without fail, she would take one bite, look up at him with those big, adoring eyes, and declare—

“dada, you’re the best cook in the whole world!”

he’d smirk, ruffling her hair “of course I am. did you think I’d let you eat anything less than perfect?”

she’d shake her head furiously, her little feet kicking beneath the table “nope! because you love me!”

he pressed a kiss to her forehead

“more than anything, little princess.”

—

“dada, I need a new dress!”

Sylus leaned back against the couch, watching as his daughter climbed into his lap, determined and serious

“do you?” he mused, amused

she nodded firmly “yes! a pink one!”

he hummed, considering “but don’t you already have pink dresses?”

“but not this pink,” she insisted “I saw one with sparkles!”

he smirked, lifting her slightly so she sat properly on his lap

“I suppose we’ll have to get it, then” he said, tapping her nose

she gasped dramatically “really?!”

“did you think I’d say no?”

she giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck “never!”

he chuckled, stroking her back “besides, how else will you be the prettiest girl in the world?”

she beamed, nuzzling into his shoulder

“mama says i already am!”

“that’s because your mother is smart,” he murmured “but she’s wrong about one thing”

“what?”

he pulled back slightly, tilting her chin up

“you’re not just the prettiest,” he whispered “you’re the most beautiful. just like her”

her eyes shone, and for a moment, she was speechless. then she grinned, pressing a loud, smacking kiss to his cheek

“I love you, dada!”

his heart clenched, warmth spreading through him

“I love you more, little princess”

—

at night, when the world was quiet and soft, he would sit by her bed, watching as her little chest rose and fell with each sleepy breath

he never thought he’d have this

never thought he deserved this

but somehow, against all odds, against fate itself—he did

and he would protect it. always.

he leaned down, pressing a final kiss to her forehead, brushing stray strands of hair from her face

“sleep well, my little princess,” he whispered “dada will always be here.”

and as he left her room, stepping into the dimly lit hallway, he found you waiting

you smiled softly, arms wrapping around his waist.“she really has you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?”

he smirked, pulling you closer “as if you don’t”

you laughed, pressing a kiss to his jaw “I love you”

Sylus sighed, his hand cupping the back of your head, holding you against him

“I love you, too” he murmured, his voice softer than usual

“more than anything.”

[ill0usainte]

Colonel's appointment.

You know what advantage you have when you're a nurse of the same fleet that Caleb works on?

Makeout session.

What Caleb loves about you is everytime he passes by the infirmary--you're quick to pull him by his tie and drag him inside. He wouldn't have to guess who "pulled" him--he got used to it.

You two would share heated makeout session--him laying on the hospital bed while you on top of him. Savoring each other's lips--intoxicated with the taste.

One time, his colleague was confused on why Caleb was taking so long with his "appointment" in the infirmary. Just when the officer was too impatient to wait, the door suddenly opens, revealing Caleb, hair disheveled, tie on loose and most of the part--his lips smudged with lipstick.

The colonel's breathing was unsteady--hand holding onto the doorknob as his piercing eyes moved to the officer in front. The sight send shivers to the male--uh oh, he may have interrupted something "important".

"Colonel-"

"The nurse in occupied at the moment. Find another one."

Might need to take this inside the colonel's office.

masterlist

[sofiaswrittendelusions]

“My wife.”

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

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

But tonight, none of it mattered.

Because you were on his arm.

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

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

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

So he had intervened.

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

But that was a lie, wasn’t it?

Because there was no acting when it came to you.

He had never truly stopped seeing you as his.

And tonight was no different.

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

Not the way you did.

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

His grip tightened.

A silent warning.

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

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

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

You inhaled sharply.

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

And Caleb lived for it.

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

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

As if you were his.

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

For the first few minutes, neither of you spoke.

Then—

You frowned slightly, glancing out the window.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then—he leaned in.

Slowly.

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

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

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

Because your body told him everything.

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

And then, quieter, more intimate—

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

You swallowed hard.

And Caleb knew.

Knew that he had you again.

Just like before. Just like always.

But this time—

This time, he wouldn’t let you go.

[aly4khq]

· ˚✧ # TOMORROW'S CATCH!! 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

➥ SUMMARY: zayne managed to get you to fall into his trap, once again.

➥ PAIRINGS: warden!zayne x reader

➥ WARNINGS: slapping, oral (m!receiving), hair grabbing, praise, riding, grabbing, very slight degrading, slight dirty talk,

➥ WORDCOUNT: 1.1K

"I've been too lenient with you, haven't I?"

Zayne slapped your face, deepening the reddened handprint. Your mouth stuffed with his thick cock, precum leaking out of his red, irritated tip, tears running down your eyes. Small moans and struggles to take him came from your mouth, "So pathetic, you thought that this would go so smoothly huh?"

After spending a while with Zayne, he managed to make you enter the cage that he was in. He was an SSS praedator, a warden who you knew, yet despite knowing all of this, you didn't see the bad in following his stupid demand.

"Come here," Zayne groaned, speaking from inside of the cell, his hands wrapped around one of the bars, his intense gaze on your body and face. "I need a better examination than the one you're giving me, enforcer."

"Really? I don't have time for this Galen, I can't—"

"Come here." He repeated more firmly, more lustful than before, "And stop calling me that,"

"It's your name," You scoffed, walking closer to his cell.

"We both know that you enjoy saying my actual name." Zayne mocked you, scoffing after.

You sighed before opening the door and entering, staring at the warden sitting on the chair with a pretty hide bulge peeking out from his trousers.

Yet as soon as you looked back, a display of ice covered the lock, trapping you in here. "Where are you going so soon?" Zayne arose from his chair, his wide frame walking towards you. "I haven't even started to investigate you yet."

He gripped your hair, pulling it back roughly, your eyes shut closed. "Well you're wrong, enforcer."

The sting bringing you back to your senses, your mouth leaving his cock with a small pop! "Mhm!" Zayne stared down, his eyes full of lust and anger. Yet under all that anger and toughness, he genuinely cared. Before you knew it, a hand was wiping your tears away, coos of praise filling your ears.

"Shh...shh, awh. Don't worry my sweet girl, you're okay. My cock's too big for your small mouth?" Zayne teased, mocking you for your pathetic attempts of taking his dick whole. His hand ran through your curls, before lodging itself in the centre, pushing your head back further. His lips latched onto yours, hungry and possessive, his hands needy as his free one got rid of your uniform. He pulled away with a small growl. "Mhm!—Hah! Zayneee! Oh please!—"

"That's right, say my name." His rough hands pulled you up to your shaky feet, your top half exposed and bare for him. Breasts perched nicely on your chest, hard nipples that caught Zayne's eye.

His lips wrapped around your left breasts, his tongue circling your nipple in his warm mouth. His moans, which gradually grew into growls, got louder. Zayne pulled away with a chuckle, his hands running up and down your back. His finger dug into the flesh of your ass, bringing you close to his lap.

"Remember that one night...when you chained me here...tied me up, marked me, made me your little subject?" Zayne argued, his hands grabbing yours uniform trousers, "It's okay if your don't,"

Rippp! Your trousers were gone in less than a second, thrown to the side of your body. "H-hey!" You protested, trying to cover your body, yet you didn't get far at all. You see, once Zayne has what he wants, they'll never escape.

He laid back in his chair, his legs spread so you could just see his bulge, his voice went deeper, "Take it off." He had direct eye contact with your lacy underwear.

Your hand hurriedly went to the piece of fabric, needy enough to rip them when a firm hand tapped your hip. "Ah ah ah, slowly." He demanded, watching you again.

This time, you slowly removed your soiled panties, your cunt already dripping only by sucking his cock. With an intense gaze, Zayne grabbed the panties from your hand, pocketing them for who-know-what. Manspreading on the chair, he tapped his lap with silently commanded you, 'Sit here'.

By the time you made to his lap, his cock was free, standing proud, the tip resting his belly button. You clenched your thighs just staring at the length—the thickness, "Holy..." your voice was timid as you gazed down.

You sat down, hovering over his cock. before slowly sinking onto him, hissing at the wonderful stretch, his hands holding your hips as your wrapped your hands around his neck. "...Gosh you drive my crazy..." Zayne latched his lips onto your neck, sucking and licking the skin like a starved man. You moaned, moving your hips to take him all in one. "...Zaynee..."

You hugged him, your back arching into him, your head hiding in the crook of his neck, smelling his scent.

Before you knew it, he was thrusting up into you, holding you down with a heavy force. He could hear the amount of pleasure you were feeling right by his ear, making him go harder and harder. "Yeah...take my cock...take it,"

He continued to ruthlessly thrust into you, his monstrous cock ripping you from inside. "Ahh!! Ah! Zayne!—Please fuck!" He laughed as a response, patting your head mockingly. You just clung to his wide body, your hands barely holding onto his thick biceps. Your lips bitting into the flesh of his collarbone.

"Yes..just like that, bite down on me..use me—fuck" He whimpered out, holding onto your hips with a shaky grip. "I love you so much..."

"Whatever you have planned for tomorrow's patients, forget about it," Zayne growled before thrusting up faster, slamming you down at the same time, "I'll be keeping you up—haah—all fucking night."

do not plagiarise, copy or translate any of © aly4khq work even though they are trash.

date made : 17/02/25.

[muqingslover]

Thinking about virgin Caleb again when he accidentally hits the deepest part inside of you. He had one of your ankles resting on his shoulder when he adjusted his hips and dragged out a strained sound from the both of you, that blinked at each other in surprise before his expression shifted into one of hunger.

"I think...I just found your womb" He'd grin down at you like he had won the biggest prize. The blood from his nose dripping down onto his chest while one of his large hands pressed at the end of your belly, trying to feel himself when he fucked into your drenched pussy and kept on hitting against that spot he found by sheer luck.

"God I can't stop— A-Ah, you're so fuckin' wet— You feel it, yeah? Right here? I-Is it, it's good for you too?" He'd ask between gasps, unable to stop himself from moving as if he was a wild animal. His moans would be a mix of shaky breaths and whimpers of how good your cervix felt when he pressed his swollen, sensitive tip against it and his mind flooded with the ideas of one day stuffing you full of his seed. He wanted you to turn into an even bigger mess than he is and make you not be able to say anything besides his name, but that can wait. He can be patient until he learns how to please you as well as he can, he's always been good at that. For now, his head tilts back and he slams himself into you, cumming so good again that he feels as if he'll actually pass out. Your body is going to be the death of him and he couldn't ask for a better way to go.

[militaryapple]

I'LL GIVE IT ALL TO YOU.

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

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

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

wc. 2.2k

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

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

is what he thought, so so foolishly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"please show me caleb."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and right now he was making you feel fucking divine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[rafayelxsylusho]

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

Finally done with this one!!

TW: SMUT

and also Caleb calls us meimei a couple of times

Enjoy!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Caleb...please"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part 1 here

[chiwhorei]

ᴄᴀʟᴇʙ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪᴄᴋɴᴀᴍᴇs ʜᴇ ʜᴀs ꜰᴏʀ ʜɪs sᴇxʏ ʟɪʟ’ sɪsᴛᴇʀ.˚⊹♡

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: big bro!Caleb x lil sis!reader

ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛ: hi, uh, can i order a ❛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ, ʙᴀʙʏ. ❜ for caleb with a side of incest and light manipulation / dubcon ? please n thank u !!!

ᴛᴀɢs: NSFW & dark content, incest, siscon, dubcon-(ish), manipulation, fingering, overstim, pet names

ɴᴏᴛᴇs: Thanks for participating in Cupid’s Chokehold, tons of LaDS requests for this event so stay tuned!

➽──ᴄᴜᴘɪᴅ’s ᴄʜᴏᴋᴇʜᴏʟᴅ — ᴠᴀʟᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇ’s ᴅᴀʏ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛ────❥

Your brother has plenty of nicknames for you. It’s true that ‘pipsqueak’ gets under your skin in a thoroughly satisfying way, but Caleb likes to change it up depending on the reaction he’s looking for.

“Hey twerp, did’ya miss me?” You leap from the train terminal straight into his awaiting arms. He had an excuse almost every weekend to get you up to visit Skyhaven when he was in school. You spin around in Caleb’s tight embrace, giggling as your body swings like it weighs nothing to him. He could hold you like this until the last train to Linkon departs and the station is dark and empty.

“Who’s got your face all scrunched up like that, kid?” Caleb notices your curled up form on the couch as soon as he walks in the door. Crossing the living room in two steps and pulling you into his lap. You tell him about the stupid high school boy that broke your heart between hiccups. “He’s an asshole. Doesn’t deserve any part of you, least of all your tears.” Caleb tries to smooth out his tone, but the palms on either side of your cheeks are twitching with an anger so red hot you must feel it through his skin. Your brother doesn’t take things like this lightly, finding the little prick on his walk to school the next day and punching his nose flat into his skull.

“Come on, short stuff, I know you can do better than that.” Your brother doesn’t even have to raise his arm all the way to keep you from the cellphone he swiped from your hands. You were smiling at it a bit too contently for Caleb’s liking. Your fingers claw at his arms and chest, before wrapping your hands around his neck and jumping into his hold. You know Caleb like no one else, sure he’d lower his defenses to catch you and wrap your legs around his waist. You pout, eye-level and foreheads pressed together, but instead of relenting Caleb slips your phone into his back pocket and throws you on the couch in a barrage of distracting tickles and cheek kisses. Like most of the games you two play, he comes out the winner.

“Don’t start whining now, brat, you’re the one that asked for my help.” Caleb bites sadistically into a kiss, growling into your now-parted lips. He’s right, of course, you came to him with a wobbly request behind your teeth. Your brother has always said he’ll do anything for you, so of course he agrees when you ask him to teach you how to make yourself cum. He’s trapped you under him, brutal kisses on your face and jaw, leaving wet marks down the valley of your breasts and up to your tear-stained cheeks again. Caleb’s fingers pump into your pussy relentlessly, filling his dorm room with the sticky wet sounds of your arousal. You’ve cum against his mouth and curled fingers more times than you can count now, but he refuses to let up. Caleb needs you to need him to an almost psychotic level. He’ll make sure no one can make you feel this good, not even yourself.

As for the nicknames you have for Caleb, he’s got no preference. His cock is sitting deeply inside of your aching cunt, a sick smile turns up on the corners of his face. He refuses you the pleasure of just fucking you properly already, and your fractured begging sounds like heaven. “Asshole,” you grit, clinging to fistfuls of his hair for dear life. “I mean- Caleb, please move. Please!”

Your brother coos, adjusting you in his lap to reach deeper but holding your hips down to deny you still. “ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ, ʙᴀʙʏ.” It makes no difference to him, he’s not going to fuck you until he’s sure your poor little brain is fork tender and thoughtless.

➽─────────────────────────❥

❥ ᴄʜɪᴡʜᴏʀᴇɪ.2025©️ ᴀʟʟ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢs ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ. Dᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ.

[whosashan]

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

The Rhythm of Everyday

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

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

Xavier

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Zayne

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

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

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

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

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

"Check the fridge."

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

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

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

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

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

"Remember to dress accordingly to the weather."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good."

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

Rafayel

Laundry day with Rafayel was never just laundry day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked. "What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sort of.

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

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

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

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

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

"Rafayel."

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

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

And just like that, the war began.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rafayel grinned. "Deal."

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

Sylus

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Caleb

It started as a joke.

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

A pillow fort.

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

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

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

You scoffed. “I never said that.”

“But you want to.”

“I do not—”

“You so do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart skipped.

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

Now, he wasn’t going anywhere.

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

Your face burned. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

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

“…Love you, Pipsqueak.”

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

[sylusvrse]

girldad!zayne who is irrevocably terrified of fatherhood. ironic, he knows.

zayne who has helped delivered more children than he can count, yet his hands still tremble when he cradles one of his own. his daughter.

zayne who needs to keep reminding himself he is a capable man. he’s done this before, he can do it again. there shouldn’t be a problem. he of all people shouldn’t feel this way. he knows you need help the most right now.

zayne who is hesitant to touch her. he keeps imagining these silly, impossible scenarios that leave him waking up in a horrible, cold sweat. like, if his ice evol were to act up while he was holding her. he knows for a fact he’s since come to stabilize himself, that the chances of him hurting her with his evol were slim to none, but what if it did happen? he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. he wouldn’t know how to face you. her.

zayne who is trying his best to support her.

zayne who tenses up when you place his daughter into his arms. he looks towards you. that look in your eyes, something that held only the purest form of trust and understanding. he slowly relaxes, his hand steadily coming up to caress the baby girl’s soft cheek.

zayne who wants to be there for every single one of her milestones. her first word, her first time crawling, her first time trying a carrot (preferably steamed), the first time she chooses to run to dad rather than mom— even though he knows the chances are slim to none.

zayne who feels like he’s finding happiness all over again. first, with you. then, with her.

that happiness, he’s found, came in the form of every morning the two of you spent gushing over how adorable she was as she ate in her high chair, and every night the two of you stood exhausted by her crib after hours of trying to get her to sleep.

lately, that happiness has begun to come in the form of every morning he spends getting her ready for school, meticulously tying her hair in pretty ribbons just how she likes, and every night he sits at her bedside, tucking her in with a goodnight kiss to the forehead.

zayne who is trying his best to be a good father.

[strwberri-milk]

can you make a scenario where MC called the LI’s during night then she’s crying and sobbing mess through the call? i wanna see how would they react <3

honestly i love these LMAOO also totally you shuold check out midnight blues!! its a raf fic i wrote thats got a similar premise to this

Zayne's first response is going to be to get you to cry a little less so he can figure out what the problem is. He'll try to give you a task to focus on - naming something you can see, smell, feel, etc. until you're able to speak with him. He hates that he's caught at work right now but also glad that at least he's on call while in the hospital so he technically has a moment between operations at this point in time. He'll sit with you as long as he can on the phone until you calm down, setting the phone beside him as he works to give your tired brain something else to focus on. If he's able to he'll drive over to your home to comfort you, holding you securely against his chest and running a gentle hand along your back.

Xavier is by your side in an instant. He immediately scoops you up in your arms - and you're so confused as to how he got there so quickly that you just. Stop crying. That doesn't stop him from comforting you though, his soft voice definitely great for some bedtime ASMR as he talks to you about anything he can think of. He...doesn't have much to say because he's not a big talker but you appreciate how hard he's trying.

Rafayel's going to want to be by your side - just depends on where he is. If he can, he'll drive right over to you and keep you company but if he's across the world then he'll stay on the phone with you and talk your ear off, definitely loud and distracting enough for you to fall asleep again. He only feels his heart settle when your breathing does too, watching/listening to you sleep with a soft smile.

Sylus is going to be at your side too - just not as quickly as Xavier is. He'll come by with some small treats but primarily, his focus is to hold you close and press soft kisses to your forehead. He'll tease you a little for needing him so badly but that's only to make you laugh and smile, internally feeling incredibly happy that your instinct is indeed to seek him out.