abstract: your boyfriend just does things that makes your heart flutter and your panties dampen <3
ft. rafayel, sylus, zayne, xavier, caleb
cw: insp by the tiktok trend ; fluff + smut; body worship, somno, riding, fingering | [implied short reader with caleb + chubby reader w/ rafayel; implied yandere! caleb] - unedited <3
⊹ ࣪ ˖ rafayel qi ; the way he’s so clingy
whenever rafayel manages to get some time with you, of course he's going to be clingy. his arms are going to be glued around your plush tummy for the whole time he's lounging around with you. his head resting on your shoulder while doing any task with you in front of him. even when he paints, he'd have you sitting between his legs or on his lap, one hand caressing and rubbing circles on your love handles or plush thighs, while the other focuses on the canvas in front of him.
but of course, his clinginess isn't only limited outside the bedroom. and that alone, gets you so turned on.
"shh, don't run away. stay w'me..." he'd whine, an arm wrapped around your tummy and only tightening the more you arched your back away from him. it was tortuous—absolutely insane. normally, he'd be sassy with it, still having a little bit of a joking tone, but when he's fucking you, holding your leg up while he bullies his cock inside you from the side, he turns so needy and clingy, and you fucking love it.
"so pretty... so gorgeous... c'mon, i like it when you're close to me..."
⊹ ࣪ ˖ sylus qin ; the way he moves you gently by your waist
even though you're at a stage in your relationship where you're comfortable with everything sylus does, you still find your heart beat faster every time sylus gently moves you by your waist to get you out of his way.
"move, sweetheart." he'd speak so smoothly while he just moves you so gently, so . of course you'd be acting all shy and flustered. but oh, even when you two have sex, his touches just hold so much weight.
he’d be sitting on one of his elaborate chairs, with you propped up on his lap grinding against his cock before he could ever be inside you. then, even when you try to sink down on him, sylus would have his hands on your hips, slowly pushing you down and helping while you cried out.
“don’t cry, pretty girl. shhh, don’t cry…” you’d be clinging onto him, arms wrapped around him while you could feel him fill you up—and not even being able to take all of him. you would be struggling, but of course, he’d help you. he'd angle his own hips, slightly slouch while keeping the hold on you firm while slowly slamming you onto him. and then when you choose to move your hips all sensually in figure-8s, his light touches would continue and he would rub circles on your skin—a contrast to how he'd move you.
"shit...yeah, sweetheart. keep moving those hips like that."
⊹ ࣪ ˖ zayne li ; the way he lifts his sleeves up + holds eye contact
you know that zayne gets busy as a doctor. but you can't help but just stare at he way he lifts his sleeves up whenever he has a demanding task. you really can't help but stare at the way his arms. the way that the veins on his forearms would be more evident every time he flexed without even knowing how that affected you.
"you know, some people try to be more subtle when they stare." he’d say something like that, because of course zayne pays attention to how you’d stare. he'd notice how you'd look away or how your expression would falter every time he held eye contact with you. you just got flustered over everything.
oh and it's especially even hotter when he enacts on his observations.
"so impatient for me, aren't you?"
he’d roll up his sleeves, crouching down while you’d sit on his desk, panties pulled down while he played with your pussy. he would be rubbing on your clit with one hand and thrusting his pretty fingers with the other; a slightly flustered expression would grace his face. but god, every time he did so, every time he would do that, he would look up at you and hold eye contact, wanting to see your cute little reactions as he ruined you on his desk.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ xavier shen ; the way his voice gets when he wakes up
there's something about the way that xavier's voice gets every time he wakes up beside you. maybe it's the way that it's much quieter and deeper than usual, or that hot vocal fry that adds onto his usually meek voice. he can get quite clingy, especially in the morning, but the way he says things when he barely wakes up—the way he speaks so gently, makes you so flustered.
"shh... just 3 more minutes. let me just hold you for a bit more." he'd snuggle up against you, muttering some weak pleas on how he doesn't want to get out of this position with you just yet. and same thing for morning sex…
“don’t wanna get out of this position…” he’d have you in pronebone, with his arms caging you and yours wrapped around his neck while he’d slowly fuck you, his body and weight pressed against you. the both of you would still be half asleep, clinging onto each other under the covers.
maybe if you were in a hurry, you’d yelp a little ‘we have to get up!’, but your pleas would fall upon deaf ears.
“mmm..not yet.”
⊹ ࣪ ˖ caleb xia ; the way he would condescendingly tease you
the nickname he's implaced upon you being 'pipsqueak' is teasing and condescending enough, but sometimes when he's feeling really sassy, caleb just keeps going with that. it's bad enough that he's taller than you, but he would just crouch down—a smile etched on his face and speak with a tone that was laced with playful malice.
"mhm? yeah? how nice." and of course, even with that dark tone and accompanying mocking smile, your heart just does a little leap in your chest; you can't help it, despite him doing so just to mess with you. something is too high up? he'd mess with you with a 'awh, can't reach up and get it?'
but when you have sex, that condescending tone gets worse; his teasing overall gets worse. "awh, pips. can't take it, huh? c'mon sweet girl... you can do it, can't you?"
even in the most basic position like missionary, it's hard to get away from whatever remarks he might make, but regardless, it was still hot. just the way he would slam into you, pressing your tummy bulge hard with his free hand while he held your hand with his other, tangling your fingers together.
oh god... he was mean. you would be crying and he’d have such a dark look on his face, relishing in the fact that he’s the only one to have you like this.
because he knows damn well you like that.
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a/n: first lads post ever... what do we think...? (i'm so fucking scared i'm a baby lads fan i'm not that seasoned yet...)
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ : including — cutesy hcs, avg fluff, implied marriage!
[౨ৎ] synopsis: random domestic things the lads!men do
[♡₊˚ ♕]: her highness's decree: Don't know what I'm gonna post after this lol, we might do a freaked out multi poll but summer themed or sum idk
౨ৎ ⟶ lads masterlist
SYLUS
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ puts his hand over sharp table corners when you walk past them; He does it so naturally you almost miss it. Whenever you walk past sharp table corners or low hanging edges, his hand is already there before you even register it. His warm palm pressed against the edge, cushioning it so you don’t bump into it. Most of the time, you don’t even realize it’s happened until you feel it—Sylus's hand brushing lightly against the side of your head instead of wood.
And when you finally do notice, it’s always the same.
You pause, turning your head slightly to look at him, caught between confusion and that soft, familiar flutter in your chest.
Sylus doesn’t look at you right away. Only after a moment does his gaze flick toward you, calm and gentle, but softer when it meets your eyes. "Careful there, sweetie," he says, a teasing lilt threading through his voice.
"Wouldn't want an injured kitten on our hands, would we?"
ZAYNE
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ knows exactly when your social battery is dying and gets you out of conversations; He notices when your smile starts to thin just a little too quickly in conversations, when your answers get shorter, when your eyes start drifting instead of really landing anywhere. He never interrupts you while it’s happening. He just waits until the exact second it becomes too much for you to keep pretending.
“Excuse me,” Zayne says smoothly when he finally steps in, appearing beside you as if he’s always been there. One hand settles lightly at your back, subtle enough that no one questions it, but firm enough that your shoulders immediately relax. Your coworker is still talking about some article she read, but Zayne’s presence quickly disrupts the rhythm of the conversation.
Zayne doesn't necessarily make it sudden or awkward, just gently redirects it, polite words and his calm authority wrapping around the conversation until it naturally dissolves.
And it's moments like that that make you so so grateful to be married to someone like zayne.
You barely even realized how much you’d been holding in until it’s suddenly gone, like someone finally loosened a tight knot in your chest. By the time you reach his car, the evening air feels colder than you expected. Zayne opens the passenger door for you without a word, like he already knows you’re running on empty.
You slide into the warm interior of his car, sinking back into the seat with a soft exhale, lashes fluttering shut for just a second longer than intended. “Thank you for that, zaynie,” you murmur tiredly as he settles into the driver’s seat beside you.
Zayne glances at you, the faintest curve forming at the corner of his mouth. His gaze softening as his green eyes flicker over your tired expression, brushing a few stray hairs from your face. “Of course, my love."
CALEB
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ automatically reaches for you when he's excited about something; Caleb has never been good at hiding his enthusiasm—though he's never had any desire to hide it from you. The second he's telling you a story, showing you something cool, or rambling about whatever has caught his attention that day, he's automatically reaching for you without even realizing it.
"Okay, okay, but listen, pips—"
One arm slips around your waist as he talks, pulling you against his side while he launches into whatever ridiculous thing he's currently invested in.
"The wing shape is designed like that for a reason. And if you look here—"
Caleb's excitement only makes him more affectionate. A hand on your shoulder. An arm around your waist. Pulling you closer every few minutes like he physically needs you involved in the conversation. Half the time, he isn't even aware he's doing it.
Too busy sharing something he loves with his favorite person.
And somehow, by the end of it, you've learned absolutely nothing about airplanes, but you've learned quite a bit about how cute your husband looks when he's excited.
XAVIER.
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ steals your blankets subconsciously but gives them back immediately when you whine; Xavier has this unconscious habit of stealing your blankets like it’s instinct. It starts innocently enough: movie nights, late evenings, him sitting just a little too close until somehow the entire blanket ends up draped over him instead of you.
You don’t even notice at first.
Until you’re suddenly freezing.
“Xavierrrr” you mumble, tugging at the edge of the blanket.
He stirs slowly, blinking up at you like he’s just been pulled out of a dream. There’s a long pause where he processes absolutely nothing, then—
“…hm?”
“you're hogging the blanket, xavi.”
Silence.
"...Sorry, star."
Then, without argument or complaint, he shifts immediately. Still half-asleep and grumbling under his breath, he lifts the blanket off himself and drapes it back over you, carefully tucking it around your shoulders until you're warm again.
The moment he's satisfied, he settles right back down. His arms slip around your waist, pulling you back against his chest with a sleepy sigh. His face buries itself in the crook of your neck, warm and familiar.
Within minutes, his breathing evens out again.
And by morning?
The blanket will somehow be wrapped around him once more.
RAFAYEL
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ always checks your reflection before his own; Every time you pass a mirror together or find yourselves standing in front of your shared bathroom mirror: Rafayel's eyes find you first.
It doesn't matter if you're dressed up for one of his gallery openings or standing in one of his oversized shirts with your hair half done. His gaze always drifts toward your face before anywhere else.
Most nights, he'll wander into the bathroom while you're doing your skincare, drawn in by your presence more than anything else. You catch his reflection in the mirror as he walks up behind you, arms slipping around your waist before resting his chin on your shoulder. The embrace is loose and familiar, his attention seemingly fixed on your reflection rather than his own.
"Don't stare at me," you mumble, patting moisturizer into your skin. "I look dehydrated right now."
Then his arms only tighten around your waist. "Then you'll be my dehydrated, beautiful muse." He says sweetly, despite the teasing lit in his voice, which makes you roll your eyes as he presses a kiss to your cheek.
"I wonder if I'll still be your muse once I start shedding like a lizard."
Rafayel hums thoughtfully, resting his chin more firmly on your shoulder as he studies your reflection.
"Of course."
"Really?"
"Mm. Then I'd simply paint the most beautiful lizard in existence."
"...you're ridiculous."
Rafayel only smiles, pressing another kiss to your cheek.
"Anything for my muse."
♡ princessxmin please do not alter, copy or translate my work !
pairing ♱ xavier ⌇zayne ⌇rafayel ⌇sylus ⌇caleb [ separate ]
content warning ♱ filming, dom/sub dynamics, cockwarm¡ng, student/professor roleplay, creamp¡es, sir kink, light pet play + use of kitten (sylus), pet names, body worship, heavy praise, corruption kink (if you squint)—MINORS DNI 18+
kit says ♱ went overboard on caleb’s again (prefacing i do not play overwatch) </3 anyway, please forgive me if this is horrible… it’s been a rough month feedback + comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated ⭑.ᐟ
xavier is dominant by nature. that’s not a surprise— both of you know your dynamic very well. but something about the camera being on shifts him into someone else entirely. the xavier who usually makes you beg, who relishes in telling you what to do… isn’t the same xavier that sits in front of the camera with you.
take now, for instance. the little red light glows, signaling that his stream is live, and the comments are already going insane— but not half as insane as xavier himself.
you’re pumping his length with your hand covered in his previous loads listening to the dings indicating generous donations from your loyal viewers. he’s in tears, mumbling out, “too much…” yet he’s constantly bucking into your hand because your sweet boy wants— needs more.
you swipe over his messy slit with your thumb, reveling in the way he gasps and whines at the contact. “but, baby, look at how much they’re paying just for you to cum again,” murmuring the words with your lips pressed against his rose-tinted ear. “if not for them, you’ll do it for me, right? you’ll cum for me?”
xavier, ever the good boy, nods his head incessantly, whining when your hand pumps harder. “y-yes, for you– anything for you.”
your lips stretch into a wide smile and you coo, “good boy, always so good for me.”
he gasps again, twitching uncontrollably against your palm, “fuh-fuck, please, p-please! ‘m so close,” he moans. “so fucking close— ah, angel-”
you can’t help but giggle as the tip jar chimes ceaselessly. squinting at the screen, you scan the stream of comments— most of them gushing over how beautiful your lover is, the rest shamelessly begging him to cum for you.
you stroke him faster, the beautiful schlick sound of your hand wrapped around his soiled dick and his moans filling your ears. he’s absolutely losing his mind and you can see it when you watch his face on the screen. eyebrows furrowed, cheeks pink and his mouth hung wide open. it’s no wonder he’s so popular on the site when he looks this breathtaking.
“my little star,” you hum, noticing the way he bucks into your hand, your gaze zeroing in on his cock. “hmm, gonna cum, pretty boy? y’know everyone’s waiting for it.”
“y-yeah, ‘m gunna cum– can i…? please, baby?”
you flit your eyes back to the screen and tilt your head. “should i let our pretty boy cum again?” you ask, faux pout etching into your lips.
the comments flood with pleas and affirmations, the tip jar going off even more and it has you biting back a smile. not a single person wants you to deny him. and how could you when he’s making that face. silver brows pulled in, eyes screwed shut and his pink, plush lips in the shape of an ‘o.’
“you can, baby, cum for us– cum for me, hmm?” you purr, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw. “make a big mess for me ‘n maybe i’ll let you fuck me… if you’re not too tired.”
at the promise, he’s throwing his head back, the prettiest cry leaving his lips. he immediately does as told, nearly clear ribbons of cum spurting out of his flushed, sensitive cock.
he’s gasping, spent from the back to back orgasms and all you can do is coo praises, calling him good and pretty and oh-so sweet, trying to ignore the dull ache in your cunt.
you note his panting and whining in overstimulation and decide he’s had enough for the night, pulling your hand away and cutting off the livestream with a curt ‘see you next time’ and a wink.
you turn back to him once the camera’s off and the laptop is closed, taking in his disheveled state. “alright, my love, let’s clean you–“
he cuts you off, tilting his flushed face up toward you. his pupils are so blown you can hardly catch the cobalt of his eyes— though the raw, carnal desire in them is impossible to miss. “wan’— hngh, wanna fuck you…” he moans out, face scrunched together in pleasure. his hand grabs at your hip, urging you to move and straddle him. “please, please, please— let me, please.”
your face softens and you offer a teasing, saccharine smile. “such an eager thing…you sure you can go again?”
you know he can. xavier’s stamina is otherworldly. and he confirms this when his eyes darken further and his cock twitches back to life between your bodies.
“i— fuck, i can. let me fuck you,” he pants. “i mean… don’t you think it’s my turn to make you beg for it?”
sylus loves calling you kitten because that’s exactly what you are. playful, mischievous, energetic— absolutely adorable even as feisty as you are.
sylus also loves to record you. dressing you up, putting you in cat ears– the cute, fuzzy ones with the bells so he can hear the jingle with every thrust of his cock. a cute collar choker around your neck, the kind that has the heart and prints the pretty shape into your skin.
and he loves when other people watch his pretty little kitty get fucked by the man that always taking care of her.
you’re in his lap, spread open with your legs hooked over him with his cock fully sheathed inside of you and you’re practically already gone– cockdrunk and drooling.
“look at the camera, kitten.” he orders softly, words wrapping around you like a warm embrace. you obediently oblige, eyes crossing but finally landing on the little green light on his laptop. “that’s it, that’s a good girl. fall apart on my cock and tell everyone how much you love it.”
you clench around him at the praise and even tighter when the prospect of being on hundereds— maybe thousands of phone and laptop screens across the world dawns on you.
your reply comes out watery, like you’d had a few too many drinks. “love it— mmph, i-i love it.”
he hums in content, bucking his hips up into you, “such a sweet girl, didn’t even put up a fight. you must love all this attention, huh?”
and his words, although laced with a hint of condescension, make you want to nuzzle into him, to press your face into his neck and let him fuck you till you’re nothing but a puddle of babbles and cum. his effect on you is a case that needs to be studied.
“only yours,” you manage to say, lolling your head back to rest on him. “l-love your attention.”
he inhales sharply and cock throbs in your tight pussy and you can’t stop the pretty whine that falls from your lips. “is that so?” his arms snake around your body, one of his hands wrapping loosely around your throat while the other rubs your lower belly palm pressing down on where his length resides. his lengthy fingers reach down and rub at your swollen clit.
you jolt at the contact, grasping at his arms and sinking your nails deep into his skin to keep yourself from convulsing further. this has him hissing and squeezing your throat tighter. “watch your claws, kitten.” he murmurs into your ear, grinding the tip of his cock into that spongy, sweet spot.
you arch your back, gyrating your hips for more friction— for anything, really. the desperate movements have the bells on your headband jingling, eliciting a groan from the big man behind you.
“ah, please… please gimme more. i—i’ll be good, promise.” you beg, continuing to hump and grind on him for something. anything. you’ll take whatever he gives you as long as it’s more.
sylus will never say no to you. sure, he’ll give you that deep, rich laugh and tease you a bit, but in the end? you’re his girl and he’ll break his back to make sure you’re the happiest person in the whole wide world.
“you’re always good for me, kitten, aren’t you?” and you nod vigorously, causing your bells to go off again. “yeah, you are. my good girl.”
and then his hands move away from your abdomen and throat to catch the back of your knees, hoisting you up so he can pound his cock into you. you can’t stop the squeal of surprise at the abrupt motion. his precision is spot on— you can feel him hitting your cervix with every brutal thrust. you feel him in your stomach, your throat, your head— everywhere. every fiber in your being screams sylus, sylus, sylus!
and you can’t take it. grasping onto him for dear life as your orgasm hits you like a truck. you’re shamelessly drenching his cock in honeyed arousal, weeping his name and clenching around him erratically.
and it only triggers his own orgasm. he’s groaning, gripping the flesh of your body so tight that you wouldn’t be shocked if you woke up tomorrow with prints of his hand decorating your skin. he slams you all the way down before shooting warm cum right into you, warming your entirety.
you’re moaning softly, a blissful smile tugging your lips, contentment written across your face and he notices. sylus flashes the camera a knowing smile of his own.
zayne always seemed so busy, stoic even, to everyone but you and his close friends. his surgical interns respected him, of course, but some of them couldn’t even begin to imagine what doctor zayne was like behind closed doors. some colleagues doubted he even had a partner— he worked so much, how could you possibly be satisfied? in short, to many, zayne was boring.
they couldn’t be more wrong.
zayne loved you– adored you in a way he couldn’t even put into words. you were more than satisfied. every waking second of his free time was spent with you. spoiling you, loving you…
dressing you up and fucking you absolutely stupid on camera.
and you’re not really sure where the interest stemmed from—roleplaying on camera— but you didn’t bat an eye when he proposed the idea to you. it aroused you to know your kinky sextapes were being watched by thousands of people. to know that people would do anything to be in your position. and you knew it aroused him too.
tonight, you’re in his home office and he has his glasses tipping off his nose, a white button up and a loosened tie around his neck while you stand before him in the shortest pleated skirt and tightest top in your closet. you’re a uni student begging her professor for mercy during ‘office hours.’
“professor, i know i skipped your class, and i don’t deserve it,” you say, voice watery and hands tugging at the hem of your skirt. “but please give me another chance… i can’t fail this class. i can make it up to you.”
“you know the rules, though,” he murmurs softly, leaning back in his chair putting all the greek gods to shame. “attendence is worth 50% of your grade.”
“but sir… i’ll do anything. i-i’ll be a good girl. please?”
the crack in your voice does him in. every time.
it’s how you end up face smooshed against the cool, glass desk with your ass up with your skirt flipped up before him.
“if you want to pass, you gotta work for it, sweet girl.” he whispers, teasing your pussy with the head of his cock. “you want it?”
you nod, breaths coming out in shudders. you clench around nothing and he watches the way your bare cunt glistens in the dim lit room. “yes sir,” you say, deprived. “want it s’bad.”
“show me then.” and that’s all he says before pressing into you, hole taking shape to his length almost immediately. like you’re welcoming him home.
you rut back against him as soon as he slips the tip in, fucking yourself on his cock with breathless pleas and moans. you do your best for his approval and you’re rewarded with his kind praise and gentle hands soothing your ass and hips and lower back.
you fill yourself deep, pressing your ass flush against his lower abdomen and grind against him, allowing him to drink you in. and he just can’t help but praise you.
“you’re doing so well, sweetheart. keep going— yeah, fuck yourself on my cock, just like that.” he moans, his cock throbbing wildly in your tight heat. “shit, you feel divine. gonna milk me dry all for an A, aren’t you?”
the praise does something to you. it always does. every time he utters something sweet about how well you’re doing, your entire nervous system reacts. your stomach flutters, your body physically jolts, blood rushes right to your head and cunt and he revels in how you get off on a few hushed words.
you cry out, giving him exactly what he wants to hear. “yes–yes sir! ple-ase, fuck me, please,”
his hands find their rightful place on your hips and he rams himself into you, cock wedging in deeper than before so his tip rubs against your sweet spot. you yelp, pressing your palms flat against the table and arching your back. a smile spreads across his lips and he speaks, voice gravelly. “you’re gonna be a good girl ‘n cum for me, yeah?”
you sob out another ‘yes’, body buzzing with a sense of electricity. all it takes for a few more thrusts and it hits you— so hard and so fast that you lose the ability to speak or scream– only little squeaks and pants eject from your mouth.
and zayne keeps moving, fucking your trembling body till he’s releasing inside you with a soft groan. his chest presses against your back and his lips find your ear where he praises you endlessly, loud enough for the camera to hear.
then, with the softest whisper he can muster, “i love you.” and it’s only for you to hear.
you are rafayel’s princess— his most treasured love. pride and adoration swells in his chest when it comes to you. it’s why he loves to show you to the world. he wants everyone to know that you belong to each other, that he is endlessly fortunate to have someone as radiant as you in his life, and that together, the two of you shine so brightly it leaves others in awe.
it started off slow, little makeout sessions here and there that he’d record and put online. you both went viral, not so much for shock value or your looks, but for raw passion and desire that’s palpable even through a screen. then you started to do more— to show more. it became an entire production.
today, rafayel has you laid out on the floor, a sheet splattered in paint, the only barrier separating you from the hard ground. the setting sun pours through the large windows of his home, casting a beautiful, warm glow on your body. his hands, covered in assorted colors of paint, hover over your body with intent before finding you.
and it’s so easy to lose yourself with him– you don’t even remember that you’re on camera half the time, it’s always him on your mind— only him. it’s no different this time when his paint-covered hands press against your skin, leaving handprints on your bare body before fully sheathing himself inside of your tight cunt with a pretty moan.
“shit, princess— ah, you feel s’good,” he whimpers, hands moving from your waist to grope your tits, leaving more paint in their wake. “you’re s’perfect, baby.”
you tighten around him at the praise and he whimpers again, offering an experimental thrust. he takes pleasure in the way you arch into his touch, how you clamp around him like a vice and it encourages him to give you more. more until your entire body is covered in painted handprints and you’re biting back moans of his name.
your arms loop around his neck and legs wrap tighter around his waist, drawing him in closer. your forehead rests against each other, lips barely millimeters apart. his eyes bore into yours so intensely that you can practically feel his love pour into you. then you close the distance, moaning right into his mouth just for him to swallow them all.
he grabs the back of your neck, other hand finding solace on your upper back, right in between your shoulder blades. he holds you like this for awhile, lip sucking on your tongue like he’s trying to burn the taste of you into his mind—his cock still spearing in and out of you like both of your lives depend on it.
your stomach flips, feeling him fuck you this deep. you can’t stop your desperate whines and cries. the soft, “so–so deep, love your co—cock,” muffled by the weight of his mouth on yours.
he finally pulls back, your lips still connected by a sting of saliva and he smiles drunkenly.
“you’re such a cutie, you know that?” he pants out, pace quickening. “look so pretty covered in paint like this. the prettiest painting on the prettiest canvas— i’m so fuckin’ obsessed with you.”
your cheeks burn hot and your stomach knots up, you’re not sure if it’s because your orgasm is about to tide over or if it’s his words of idle worship. a mix of both, you think, because rafayel is now jackhammering into you as if he’s scared to stop and it only has your orgasm nearing closer and closer.
and you know he’s close, too. he’s whinier, nearly in tears as his breathing gets more and more shallow.
when you utter the words, “raf… raf, baby, ‘m so close, please don’t stop.”
he’s nearly hysterical, “stop? i can’t stop, baby. can’t ever stop, i’m addicted to you.”
then you’re there, his cock hits your g-spot eliciting something near explosive. your orgasm hits you and you get a rush of euphoria, nearly blacking out at the pleasure. he lets you ride it out, fucks you through it while you shake and tremble in his arms all the way until his abdomen tightens and his cock throbs between your pulsating, velvet walls.
he eases your back onto the floor before pulling out of your heat. his hand wraps tightly around his slick, aching cock, stroking himself desperately until ribbons of release splatter all over your paint streaked body. a broken moan slips out of him as he cums, gaze fixed on you and your fucked out face before it drops to the mess he’s left in his wake.
he finally comes down from his high, taking all of you in before smiling cockily.
caleb liked gaming. on his days off—when you were away on missions or trips—he’d sink into his chair, eyes glued to the glow of his high-tech pc, clicking away to keep his mind from wandering back to you.
he streamed often and he’d built a pretty solid following. most of his viewers were girls who fawned over your boyfriend, leaving thirsty comments or attempting to sneak their way into his private messages. you knew, as caleb would tell you immediately and you didn’t mind a bit—it wasn’t hard to see why he had girls tripping over their feet for him. caleb’s face and voice were undeniably sexy, but you knew he only had eyes for you. you never worried about faceless strangers. you were the one tangled up with him in his bed at the end of the day.
but caleb did mind. he hated the comments even if they were meant to feed his ego. more than once, he’d brought you up midstream, shutting down any advances without a single ounce of hesitation. “i don’t think my girlfriend would appreciate that comment,” he’d say flatly. or with a teasing smile, “you think i’m hot? my girl tells me all the time, but i always tell her she’s the pretty one.”
still, the comments never stopped. so caleb decided to take things a step further— the only way he knew to get it through some people’s thick skulls.
you’re sat on his lap now, his cock speared inside of you while caleb speaks to the camera on his monitor. “teachin’ my pretty girl how to play overwatch tonight,” he says, a bright smile etched into his lips and eyes filled with love and adoration. all his viewers can see the pure look of love on his face on their screens. “say hi, pips.”
you muster all the strength to give the camera a smile, offering a stuttered, “h-hi,”
and when caleb shifts slightly, you nearly give yourself away. give away the fact that you’re practically getting fucked in front of a decent sized audience. you’re glad the camera only catches your chest up so they can’t see how your arousal pools at the base of his cock and the pads of his fingers rub gently at your throbbing clit.
he laughs, the vibrations from his body causing your own to tremble. “she’s a bit shy, but i’ll break her in.”
and he means it because you swear he’s purposefully been thrusting into you and rubbing at your needy bud for an eternity, like he wants you to get caught.
and that’s mostly because he does. he wants everyone of his watchers to know who gets his cock every day. it doesn’t matter that you’re not jealous of his little fans— caleb still needs you to stake your claim.
still, he explains the game, the objective, the important keys you need to remember like he’s not inches deep in you but it all goes through one ear and right out the other. all you can think about is his cock lodged inside your cunt and the stimulation on your clit. you try not to let it show on your face, but what is one to do in a situation like this?
he snaps you out of your daze by saying, “ready to try?”
you aren’t, you have no idea what the game is about, you can barely remember what it’s called, but you nod your head anyway.
he sets you up with solo casual play and places your hand over his mouse and whispers a soft good luck before telling everyone to wish you luck.
the second you enter the game, his hand finds its place on your hips and you let out a sharp gasp when he rocks you back and forth. “caleb!” you squeak and then he stops when he notices you’ve already been eliminated.
“aw, c’mon,” he says, voice low and teasing. “you can do better than that.”
once you respawn, he continues, grinding you on his cock without a care in the world. he knows his viewers are suspicious because more and more comments are flooding in and none of them are about your skill– or the lack thereof. they’re all about the face you’re making and your shallow breaths or caleb’s lopsided grin and darkened eyes.
yet, he doesn’t stop, when people start to notice, it only encourages him. he bucks his hips into you, cock ramming into your cervix and you actually let out a strangled cry. you abandon the mouse and keyboard, your hands grip at the desk to keep yourself from flailing while he fucks into you.
“fuck, baby,” he grunts, showing his strength by lifting and dropping you onto him with ease. “feel so fuckin’ good.”
“o-oh, caleb, th-the stream.” you pant, gripping the wooden table so hard you swear you hear it crack.
“yeah, let ‘em watch how you take this dick, pretty girl.” he says. “because it’s all yours.”
starring ♱ xavier ⌇zayne ⌇rafayel ⌇sylus ⌇caleb [ separate ]
content warning ♱ fem!reader, brat taming/breaking/enabling, exhibitionism, orgasm denial!! edging, jealousy (xavier), lots of degradation, use of slut x1 (sylus & caleb), overstimulation, squirting, creampie, they’re all mean </3, dumbification, inappropriate use of evol + hidden cameras + bondage (caleb), use of a vibrator (raf), f!masturbation, kinda ooc — MINORS DNI 18+
kit says ♱ thank u to my creative director @thewrldx for helping me plot xavier and caleb’s part of this headcanon!! i couldn’t have made it without you <3 and ty @chrysanthetum for being a doll and letting me watch you read the roughest draft of this and telling me u loved it, ily (even if u lied). feedback + comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated ⭑.ᐟ — requested
黎深 ⟢ #ZAYNE
zayne wasn’t speaking to you. wasn’t scolding you, wasn’t berating you, wasn’t bending you over his lap and spanking your ass till it was red and sore. no, he was quiet—minding his own business, meaning your little plan to rile him up had ultimately failed.
that also meant all the talking back and the sass and the blatant disrespect was for nothing. he didn’t force you to your knees and have you choke and gag around his cock like you wished he would’ve the second you walked back into your home. he didn’t push you onto your bed, press his hand between your shoulder blades and have you face down, ass up.
there was only… silence.
and it was deafening. the kind that pressed against your chest and filled every corner of the room. an hour had passed since you’d gotten home, and still—nothing. not a word from him, even as you slipped into bed beside him, wordlessly hoping for something—anything—to break the quiet.
you were in his shirt, one of his crisp button ups reaching your mid thigh and barely covering your soaked lace panties. he’s on his side of the bed, glasses on the tip of his nose, reading a book with his lips pressed into a flat line and he looked infuriatingly handsome. it only made you more wet.
you tried touching him, but he shrugged you off as if you were some pesky fly. you call his name just for him to hum, his eyes trained on literally anything but you. it’s torturous, but maybe you did deserve it for the way you acted out.
yet that doesn’t help the fact that your panties are glued to your core and you’re craving the delicious stretch of his cock. you need him… like water and air but the feeling obviously doesn’t seem mutual.
“zayne,” you whisper softly crawling into your side of the bed. nothing but another hum, to which you whine out his name again. “zayne… please. need you.”
he turns to you, eyes blank and coldly responds. “i’m right here.”
“n-need you inside me… please?” you whisper, the words rushing out of you in a pant. “your-your cock…”
he shrugs, head turning back to his book, mumbling out, “then take it, what do i care?”
you don’t wait for a response, jumping at the opportunity by climbing into his lap. you pull his semi-erect cock from his sweats, spit in your hand, and stroke him until he’s fully hard, yet he still continues to look at his book and act as if you weren’t even there. you pout a bit—surely there’s no way he can resist you when you’re stretching yourself open on his cock, right?
wrong.
your panties are pushed to the side and you’re sinking down, feeling his length fill you to the brim and… still nothing. no groan, no hiss—he’s impressively focused on the book in his hands even with your incessant mewling and whining.
you struggle to keep a steady pace while bouncing on him. it feels like it’s been hours and he continues to mindlessly flip through his book. you try to use him—try to get off, but you can’t. you need him… you always need him.
“‘m sorry, zayne,” you whimper, words desperate and broken. “hngh, please—‘m sososo sorry, please just… just fuck me.”
and when he doesn’t reply, you snatch the book from his hands and toss it to the side and finally… finally he looks at you. "really? that's how you wanna play?"
your lip quivers and you respond, stumbling over your words while avoiding his mean glare. “i-i’m sorry, i just—”
he grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks with his thumb and pointer fingers, effectively cutting you off. “just wanted some attention, huh? that’s why you’ve been acting like such a brat tonight?” he says, voice hushed and a miniscule smirk graces his features when you clamp around him. “you played with me all night because you wanted me to punish you, didn’t you?”
he doesn’t wait for your response, forcing you to nod your head and humming with a wicked smile tugging at his lips and arousal gushes out of you as you clench around his cock. his hands find purchase on your hips, grip tight like he wants to leave bruises in his wake and a little moan slips out at the pain.
then, without warning, he lifts your hips till you’re half way off his length and slams into you. your hands shoot to his shoulders to steady yourself as a shocked, strangled moan crawls out of you to his pleasure. and then another stroke. and another and another until he’s fully fucking into you with the vigor you’ve been waiting for all night.
but when you’re close…when you warn him that you’re about to cum all over him, he just laughs breathily and shakes his head. “hold it.”
you whine in protest, “but—”
“you wanted to be punished, right?” he asks through a pant, thrusts never missing a beat, and sees you come to the realization of his words. your blissed out face morphs to one of fear and before you can beg him for mercy he whispers to you.
“i’m giving you exactly what you begged for, my love. if you cum now, i’m not touching you for a week.”
秦彻 ⟢ #SYLUS
you’re spoiled rotten—there’s really no denying it. sylus takes pride in showering you with everything you could ever want, spending his hard earned money without a second thought. you’re his baby, after all. but even he has limits. as much as he hates denying you, sometimes he just has to, if only to remind you he’s your man, not your bank account.
“please?” you beg, crocodile tears in your eyes. you’re not sure why it’s taking so much for him to agree to this—he’s said yes to crazier things. “it’s limited edition—i mean look at it! it matches the dress you got me. i need it, sy, please?”
and sylus is patient with you—always gentle and composed. he’s never shown his anger or irritation to you. never loses his calm, collected edge, but even the most controlled people have their breaking points, and he’s teetering on his.
“for the last time, i said no, sweetheart.” his lips pull into a thin line and replace his usual smirk. his words are gentle but there’s a sharp edge that says he’s serious. “you are not spending 87 grand on an awful piece of gold that goes around your neck. drop it, please?”
your bottom lip juts out and you give him your pretty doe eyes—the ones he can never say no to—but, unfortunately for you, he can see right through your facade. “but it’s dolce…”
his eyes flash a dangerous shade of red, blood simmering just beneath his skin. a visible vein throbs at his temple, sharp and tense, before he finally speaks—his voice low, dark, enunciated he says, “no.”
the puppy dog look is wiped off your face almost instantly, replaced by rolled eyes and a glower. “what the hell, sylus? you can spend 5 million on a stupid protocore and now you want to start setting limits?” you spit, venomously without even thinking. “i fucking hate you sometimes.”
and he just… snaps.
and now you're stretched open on his fat cock, drool seeping past your lips and he’s being so rough with you. the typical regard he holds for you when he’s fucking you has been replaced with unrestrained words and hands.
“you hate me, huh? you fucking hate me?” his words come out through gritted teeth as he fists your hair, tugging at your scalp. “i don’t get you one thing and you fucking hate me, hmm?”
his cock ravages you, pummeling in and out of you, tip hitting your deepest, most sensitive spots. you can’t stop the mewls that erupt from deep inside of you. your body crumbles into nothing but a babbling, sloppy mess underneath him.
he laughs but it lacks all the warmth and humor that’s usually laced in the sweet sound. this laugh is near evil. the laugh of someone that’s going to ruin you.
“aw, cat got your tongue? had a lot t’say when you were begging for my card all damn day—just needed some cock to shut you up, that right?” he releases his grip on your hair, allowing you to collapse onto his pillow, soaking the silk in your saliva. his hands find purchase on your hips, practically using you like you’re his own personal fleshlight. “c’mon, sweetie. speak up.”
“sy-hngh, f-fuck, sylus!” you sob out the syllables of all your words. “s– hah! ‘s too big, c-can’t take it.”
“aww, you can’t?” he coos mockingly, thrusts growing sloppy. “maybe you’ll remember this the next time you try to act like a fucking brat.”
he groans when you clamp tightly around him almost like you’re…enjoying this.
“you’re tightening up, sweetie. you like it when i talk to you like this? when i put you in your place and treat you like a slut?”
you’d be lying if you denied it. denied the fact that you don’t absolutely love they way the tip of his cock repeatedly hits your g-spot and don’t love the way his vicious words make your head spin.
you cry, arching your back, “‘m gonna… oh, god! sy–sylus, ‘m cumming!”
and he pulls out before the knot in your belly snaps, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping himself to the sound of your displeased moans and cries. he shoots his load onto your back and ass with a moan without a care in the world.
your mewls and begs echo in the room as you push your ass back for something—anything—to fill you back up, but your feeble attempts prove to be futile when he moves away from you, leaving you high and dry.
“bet you hate me even more now, don’t you sweetie?”
and even after the fact, sylus still grabs the laptop sitting on the nightstand with a scowl on his face. the screen is still open to the dolce & gabbana shopping cart and he presses purchase because, in all honesty, he could never ever deny you.
he smiles when he turns back to your twitching figure lying on the bed, back dressed in his cum.
“my spoiled little brat… you got your necklace, are you happy now?”
祁煜 ⟢ #RAFAYEL
you hadn’t meant to push rafayel so far, truly. your intentions were good… sure, you wanted to break him and make him cry for you. and yes, you did restrain him and shove your panties into his bratty, back-talking mouth. and, okay, maybe you did take it a little too far when you edged him three times in a row, but it was all in good fun! no one got hurt and you were both having a great time.
well… maybe it was just you having a great time.
you were so lost in the pleasure, eyes rolled back as you rode him with your nails scraping over the planes of his chest, that you hadn’t even noticed rafayel freeing himself from the restraints that had his arms suspended until you were flipped onto your back.
your shocked squeal made him smile, the corners of his lips pulling up into something sinister. you shuddered at the sight, stuttering over your words, but he wasn’t having it. no, rafayel was done—it’s your turn to shut up.
which is why the same panties he had in his mouth are now in yours.
his voice is deep, breathy. it has a shiver running down your spine and your cunt squeezing him so tight you nearly cut off his circulation. “mmh, you’ve had your fun, princess. i think it’s my turn to show you how i deal with brats.” he leans in to press a kiss to your bare shoulder. “that’s what you called me, right? a brat?”
you moan against the lace stuffed between your lips, the sound muffled and needy. he hums in approval, reaching over to the nightstand. your breath catches, eyes widening as he opens the drawer and pulls out a small bullet vibrator. you jolt when you hear the hum when he switches it on, panic flooding your being.
and he feels it with the way your pussy won’t ease up, tightening further—as if you could get any tighter. a flicker of satisfaction crosses his face, warmth curling in his chest at the thought of you squirming for him—just like he did for you.
he presses it directly to your hardened clit, admiring your arching figure and the melodic moans that muffle out of you. then he moves with an experimental thrust, holding his own moan back as he feels the vibrations shoot through his cock.
you writhe beneath him, and god, it’s such a pretty sight. he takes mental snapshots—your face scrunched in bliss, your body trembling from the fullness and the deep, pulsing vibration coursing through you. every quiver, every jolt, every broken whine—you’re a masterpiece, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, something no treasure in all the seven seas could compare to.
and when you cum without warning, body pulling taut before eventually falling limp, he chuckles. the sound comes out airy and breathless. “that’s one. we’re just getting started cutie… don’t tell me you’re tapping out? c’moooon, look alive.”
he turns the bullet’s vibrations to a higher setting, pushing it harder against your bud. all you can wonder is how a tiny little thing can hold so much power. you moan weakly through the soaked fabric and rafayel shows a little mercy, pulling it out and eyeing his drenched in both yours and his spit.
you gasp, choking on your words. “r-raf, ugh, what—fuck, what are you doing?”
every thrust feels 10 times more intense with the little bullet. he knows they pull orgasms out of you twice as fast, but he also knows that they overstimulate you and your poor, poor body, so he only uses it on special occasions.
occasions like when you push him past a point of no return, such as tonight.
he bends down, eyes darkened as they bore into yours. “m-making you cum for every time edged me, princess. what’s it look like i’m, hah, doing?” his voice is hushed as he mutters the words against your heated skin. “since you wanted to act like you could be in charge… act like ‘m some weak toy at your disposal.”
your breaths are ragged as you feel another orgasm build inside of you. a broken, “‘m sorry,” comes out of your mouth and it’s so pathetic. “sh-shit, baby, sorry—‘m so sorry!”
and you’re coming undone again. unravelling quicker than you did for your first orgasm.
“awww, there’s two…” rafayel croons. “one more, baby. let’s do it together, yeah?”
and rafayel coaxes it out of you with his sloppy, deep thrusts. his lips find yours and he swallows every moan and mewl that tries to leave your body. he rocks you harder and harder, your sensitive, overstimulated pussy stretched open to accommodate his aching cock. you’re both at your wits end.
then you’re both falling apart in each other’s arms. rafayel abandons the mini bullet in favor of scooping you up and hugging you close while he spills his hot load into your spasming cunt.
his breathing is labored, but he musters the strength to whisper, “you took me well, cutie.”
夏以昼 ⟢ #CALEB
caleb had one, simple rule. do not touch. it was easy, in theory. you just had to keep your hands to yourself while he was at work, but… there were days, like today, where you just couldn’t wait for him to come home.
blame it on ovulation or blame it on caleb who–surprisingly–hasn’t touched you in two whole days, whatever it was, you just couldn’t take it anymore. your skin was hot, your pussy was soaked and your head was filled with debauched images of caleb. caleb folding you in half, caleb fucking your face, caleb letting you fuck his face—it was all caleb, caleb, caleb.
and you knew he was watching. you knew about the not-so-hidden cameras scattered around the house. he knew you knew, but neither of you ever said a word. the silence made it hotter—knowing he was somewhere behind a screen, eyes on you while you wandered his home in nothing but his oversized shirts and your panties… waiting for him.
you’re very aware of caleb who’s watching you through his phone with dark violet eyes as you plunge your fingers into your cunt and moan out his name. you know his dick jumps at the sight of you blatantly disobeying his one and only rule. you know he’ll come home and put you in your place and it makes it all the more intense.
you make yourself cum and it’s not earth-shattering the way it is when you're speared on his cock, but it satisfies some of the dull ache and heat in your cunt. then you go about your day—cleaning up and spending some time lounging in the living room, watching some show you’ve seen a hundred times.
but caleb comes home earlier than usual—hours earlier. there’s a sharp scowl carved into his face as he slams the front door shut, the sound echoing through the house before he twists the lock. moments later, he’s standing in front of you, the heat rolling off him in waves. you offer him a small, almost teasing smile, excitement already bubbling up inside you manifesting in the arousal that soaks through your second pair of panties of the day.
“bedroom.” is all he says in his stern voice. the voice you’ve only heard him use with the fleet.
but you stay unmoving, a smirk growing as you say, “make me.”
then, suddenly, you feel weightless—your body lifted effortlessly, following him as if pulled by an invisible force. you twist and struggle, but it’s useless. caleb’s already using his evol to bend gravity to his will, guiding you straight toward his bedroom.
the smirk that used to play across your face has vanished. now your lips tremble, parted in uneven sobs that claw their way out of your throat. caleb’s hands have your wrists tied, held high above your head while he pulls orgasm after orgasm out of you.
“you still think it’s fuckin’ funny?” he grunts, fucking into you with fervor. “think it’s sooo funny to go and do the one thing i told you not to do? huh?”
you don’t know how he does it—how he crashes into you so hard, so deep, yet so fast. every coherent thought scatters, leaving nothing behind but him. the only thing you can think about is the feeling of his thick, hard cock pounding into you.
“caaaleb!” you sob, wrists straining, fingers twitching with the desperate need to grab him, but the bindings keep them helplessly stretched above your head. “caleb!”
he groans, thrusts faltering for just a second at the weak sound before he drives in harder. you sound too good, too small, and it only feeds his fury. the fury that has him mocking you, “caaaleb, caleb! ‘s that all you have to say?”
you’d be sorry if this wasn’t exactly what you wanted—but you’re not, and it is. this? getting split open and fucked like a slut? it’s what you needed. still, the lie breaks free anyway, a wet, choked, “sorry,” falling from your drool-slick lips. he scoffs, disbelieving, the sound edged with a dark kind of amusement.
“you know,” he pants, slowing his thrusts to a languid pace. you think he’s showing you mercy, that he’s easing up on you, but if there’s anything you know about caleb, it’s that he wouldn’t let you off the hook until he knew you’d learned your lesson.
his lips ghost against your jawline and you can feel the smile on his lips against your flushed skin. he trails soft pecks till his lips brush against the shell of your ear and his hips have slowed. he’s pressed into you as far as he can go and then he when he finally speaks, it’s quiet enough to make your pulse trip over itself. “if you wanted to get fucked that badly, you could’ve told me… i would’ve come home. taken care of you like i always do.”
he hums at your little whimper and grinds against you, his tip kissing your cervix in a way that has you jolting in pain but simultaneously whining at the gratification. “but you knew that, didn’t you? knew i wouldn’t be this mean unless you slutted yourself out in my bed when you knew i was watching, right, silly girl?”
you struggle underneath him, begging. “caleb, oh fuck—oh g-god, please just move.”
“mmm, no. i don’t think i will now, baby.” he smiles but it lacks its usual warmth. it’s something menacing and you’d be lying if it didn’t turn you on further.
“we have allll night, pretty girl. ‘m gonna make sure you learn your lesson.”
沈星回 ⟢ #XAVIER
jealousy runs deep in xavier. too deep. and you know this, it’s something that you caught onto early in your relationship. you saw it in the way his clenched jaw every time a man so much as looked at you. in the way he’d take you home, wrap you up in his arms and fuck you till you’re a drooling, babbling mess. in the way he’d explicitly tell you not to talk to other men because, “they’re not worthy of you.”
sometimes you hate it—how possessive he is, how his jaw tightens whenever you talk to other hunters. but you know it’s only because he loves you so vehemently, because the thought of losing you makes him unravel. imagining his life without you is the last thing he wants to do.
but sometimes… sometimes you love it. you love the way his presence feels like a claim, the way his intensity makes you feel seen—wanted in a way that’s almost terrifying.
and sometimes, you can use it against him so it’s in your favor. like nights where you’re out getting dinner with xavier’s best friend, jeremiah, and your pussy is craving the delicious stretch of his cock.
you know it’s crazy. that you shouldn’t be shamelessly flirting with your boyfriend’s best friend in hopes said boyfriend will end the dinner early, take you home and fuck you, but if the way you’ve soaked through your panties says anything, it’s that you need it—need him.
xavier notices immediately, his hand grips your thigh underneath the table and he squeezes you so tight, you let out a little whimper. his ears perk up at the noise, but he still doesn’t move.
jeremiah shifts in his seat, uneasy. the tension between you and xavier is so thick it could suffocate a room—no blade sharp enough to cut through it. xavier’s scowl, your bitten lip, the untouched food cooling on the table… it’s enough to make jeremiah want to bolt, to leave you both to sort out whatever storm you’re caught in.
but xavier excuses the two of you before he gets the chance to flee. “we’ll be back.” xavier mumbles, pulling you up and dragging you to the bathroom. he doesn’t even care to be slick.
and then you’re in the bathroom, hands pressed against the wall while xavier fucks you from behind. He has one hand wrapped around your throat, tilting your head back so he can look you in the eye. his other hand rests on your lower abdomen while his fingers toy with your hardened clit.
“you did that on purpose,” he huffs, thrusts hard and rough. “you tried to rile me up so i would do this, i’m not stupid.”
you nod, an inhumane mewl coming out of you when you try to reply. “mmph! yeah, mmh, wanted to you to fuck me.” you admit brazenly. you weren’t expecting him to fuck you like this in such a public space… but you weren’t complaining. not even a little bit.
how could you with the way you’re arched for him? with the way your orgasm builds so quickly with his thrusts and the fat possibility of someone finding you two in such a compromising position?
“i knew it,” he muttered, tightening the hand around your jugular. “acted like i wasn’t even there… flirted with that fucker just to piss me off, yeah? all so i would fuck this stupid cunt?” he spits.
you know his malicious words are just those of anger, yet you can’t help the way your pussy strangles his cock like a vice. your tightening grip makes him chuckle darkly, pupils dilating as he stares into your crossing eyes.
“he wasn’t worth all those little laughs…” he huffs, a thrust sharp hits that gummy spot. The spot that makes you melt and has your cunt drooling arousal all over his cock. a spot that only your beloved xavier can hit. “your pretty smiles…” another thrust. “you’re supposed to be all mine, angel. all of that is meant for me ‘n only me.”
you try to contain your whimpers, try not to let them mix with the acoustic echos of skin slapping against skin, but the way he repeatedly hits that special spot… his percision… his persistence? it’s damn near impossible. your breath catches, pulse racing, every nerve wound tight and ready to snap.
your hand flies to your mouth, desperate to smother the sound clawing its way out, but it only dulls your voice to a strained, muffled plea. “i-i’m gonna—fuck me, hah—baby, ‘m cumming!”
it’s rare to hear xavier growl—he’s usually one to whimper, moan or let out hot, heavy breaths, but tonight? with his boiling blood and rough thrusts, he growls for you to cum. to let it all out all over his cock like the brat you are.
and you spasm uncontrollably, gushing all over him while he follows in suit, filling you to the brim on a moan. all is forgotten as you bask in the aftershock of your orgasm… till you hear the jiggle of the door knob and a soft knock.
“it’s occupied.” xavier pants out. he presses a kiss to your forehead and smiles wickedly.
“i’m not done with you yet.”
poor jeremiah. xavier will probably make him pay for the entire dinner, too.
about ♱ no nut november is finally over — let’s see how long the lads men lasted!
starring ♱ xavier ⌇zayne ⌇rafayel ⌇sylus ⌇caleb [ separate ]
content warning ♱ YEARNING., creampies, unprotected sex, some fingering, desperate whiny boys, marking, reader is a tease and mean in sy’s, reader calls sylus a bitch lol, squirting — MINORS DNI 18+
kit says ♱ expanded version of this request! i forgot i said i’d write this so it’s rly rly rushed and a bit shorter than usual :( i hope it’s still enjoyable though!!! and i hope all of u won the nnn challenge (i lost day 3 :p) HAPPY NUTTING! feedback + comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated ⭑.ᐟ
#CALEB: NOVEMBER 1ST @ 7:13 PM
caleb wants to participate in no nut november. well… he did. when you’d brought it up, he wildly overestimated his self-control and agreed like it’d be some cute, harmless little challenge for the two of you.
that confidence evaporates the moment he comes home from work.
because you’re in the kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of panties and one of the hoodies he’s been searching for all week. and as if that isn’t already straight out of his fantasies, you’re bent over the counter, licking your fingers clean—slow, deliberate—like you’re trying to ruin him on purpose.
when you notice him, you flash him a toothy grin, “oh hi, welcome home, baby,” you greet cheerily, unable to read the room.
his cock aches underneath his uniform and he just can’t take it. fuck the damn challenge. it’s the last thing on his mind, you being the first thing. your pussy struggling to take his cock, specifically.
he groans, the sound raw in his chest, and stalks toward you like he’s already lost the battle with himself. his hands hook around your hips, pulling you off the counter and straight into a deep, desperate kiss.
“need you,” he mumbles against your lips, the words barely out before his tongue pushes into your mouth, hot and hungry. the force of it makes you lightheaded, your whole body going loose in his grip as he kisses you like he’s been deprived for weeks—it’s been one day.
you part from him, much to his dismay, and look up at him through lidded eyes. “w-what about—”
“fuck it. you know i can barely go a day without fuckin’ you, baby.” he mutters, spinning you around and bending you back into your original position over the counter. “this okay, pips? or are you bent on winning the challenge this year?”
and, thank fucking god, you whimper with a shake of your head, “mmph, no… i want you, caleb.”
it’s all the confirmation he needs. he drags your his hoodie up over your ass, bunching the fabric at your waist, then tears your panties off like they offended him. his own uniform comes off just as violently, shredded off his body like a second skin he can’t stand to be in anymore.
when he finally pulls his cock out, the tip is already glossy with precum. the sight alone makes his breath hitch. he can’t help thinking how impossible it would’ve been to last a whole month without you—when he’s practically wanted you since… well, forever.
he gathers wetness, dragging his tip across your slit before slapping your cunt with the hefty weight of his cock. he revels in the way that you jump and whine, “stop teasing, caleb.”
he breathes out a soft, messy apology before pushing into your drooling hole, and your cunt welcomes him back instantly—greedy, grateful, like it’s been waiting for him just as badly.
it doesn’t take long before he bottoms out inside you, filling you completely. he’s so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat, every inch of him stretching you open in the way you’ve been craving.
“g-god, caleb,” you sigh, content with the way his cock stretches you around him. “you feel s’good, baby. s’deep.”
caleb’s hands grasp tightly at your hips as he ruthlessly pounds into you and he lets out a throaty moan that borders on a desperate whimper. the sound makes your pussy flutter around him which elicits yet another sound from your boyfriend.
“b-baby,” he says, voice cracking slightly. “fuckin’ love this pussy. can’t go without it—always need you s’bad.”
you laugh on a moan, wiggling your ass in front of him like a minx and whisper out, “it’s all yours, caleb. f-fuck, ah—yeah, right there! fuck me however much you want.”
caleb’s eyes roll back at the confirmation. his cock jerks uncontrollably before his body nearly keels over as his orgasm hits him like a truck out of nowhere. his warm cum fills you up till it’s practically overflowing out of you.
“sh-shit, baby—” caleb whines. “‘m sorry, god, didn’t mean to cum s-so fast.”
you shake your head, “‘s okay… now that we’ve established no nut november is over for you, you can cum as much as you want.” you giggle, tightening around his messy length before whispering.
you tighten around him again, your voice low and wicked when you whisper to him.
“preferably inside of me.”
#XAVIER: NOVEMBER 3RD @ 10:05 PM
xavier genuinely thought no nut november meant he wasn’t allowed to eat nuts for the entire month—peanuts, cashews, almonds, all of it. easy. he didn’t snack on that stuff anyway. but when he discovers what it actually means? when he realizes the “challenge” he so confidently agreed to has nothing to do with food and everything to do with him not getting to cum? he’s furious.
furious that you tricked him. furious that you knew he never kept up with trends like this and still let him agree with that innocent little nod.
now it’s been three days. three long, hard days without touching you, kissing you, filling you with his cum and claiming you as his.
frankly, enough is enough.
xavier knows it’s late and that he has no business pounding on your door at 10 PM knowing good and well the two of you have to work early in the morning, and yet? he does it anyway without having a damn to give.
when you open the door, he doesn’t even give you the chance to utter a single word before he’s grabbing your face and smashing his lips against yours for a depraved kiss. you moan in surprise and it allows him a chance to deepen the kiss to his liking.
he pushes the two of you farther into your apartment so he’s not stuck in the doorway, but the second the door clicks shut behind him, he’s pinning you back against the cool wood. the chill contrasts sharply with your overheated skin, making you gasp just as his lips trail down your neck.
he nips at every patch of exposed skin he can reach, ignoring your breathless whimpers for him not to leave a mark.
“couldn’t wait any longer,” he murmurs, slipping his fingers in the waistband of your sleep shorts and rubbing at your clit, pulling clipped little moans out of you. “miss you, miss being inside of you. i can’t last a month, you win.”
“xavie,” you whimper, back arching off the door as his skilled fingers toy with your neglected bud. “no nut november is stupid anyway. i lose too.”
it’s all it takes for xavier to rip your shorts and panties down and pull his aching cock from his pants and fill you up right against the door.
you can’t help but cry at the feeling of your pussy molding to the shape of his cock again. three days without sex isn’t a long time, in fact, that’s pretty normal for… normal couples.
but you and xavier are far from that. you’re insatiable for one another. you fuck like bunnies and while he’s more eager than you, slamming his hips up with force and haste, you still find yourself craving him several times a day nearly every day.
“xavier!” you cry after a particularly sharp thrust against your spongy g-spot, velvet walls contracting around his thick length. “oh fuck, fuck, fuck.”
he pants, thumb catching your clit again and rubbing disoriented circles against the swollen pearl. “cum with me,” he coaxes desperately and you cling onto him and his words for dear life. “come on, angel. show me you missed me as much as i missed you.”
your orgasm is explosive, the single leg you have wrapped around his waist pulls him closer as you attempt to keep your balance. you cry a mantra of his name while your ears ring.
xavier follows in suit, stilling deep inside of you and spurting out thick ribbons of warm cum into you with a soft moan. he burries his head into the crook of your neck and bites the skin there again like he’s trying to make the marks impossible to cover up in the morning.
“i love nuts in november,” xavier whispers and you can’t help but let out a breathy laugh and nod.
“me too.”
#ZAYNE: NOVEMBER 8TH @ 11:17 PM
irritation doesn’t even begin to cover it. zayne has been battling a migraine for seven days straight, and there’s only one thing he can blame—the absurd, month-long, orgasm-free challenge known as no nut november. each day has been worse than the last, but today feels like the peak of his frustration, the kind he hasn’t felt in ages.
he’s usually patient, calm, steady—but now he’s worn down to the bone. he snapped at colleagues, was short with patients, and that little smile you’ve trained him to wear so easily? completely gone. not even the carefully packed macaroons you tucked into his lunch can touch the edge of this misery…
all he needed was you.
so when he comes home a bit later than usual with his lips turned down in a little pout and trudges into the bedroom and spots you in his bed, it’s like the straw that breaks the camel's back.
he huffs, unbuckling his belt with quick hands while his cock hardens underneath his slacks.
“what are you doing?” you ask, smiling knowingly. you already know he won’t last long—clingy, needy, always craving your touch. the tension radiating off him is palpable, and there’s only one thing that can fix it: you.
without a word, he strips down to his boxers and slips into bed beside you, tugging you close into his arms. his face buries into your chest, nuzzling against you, and you swear you can hear him purring with contentment.
“i don’t think i care for this challenge, my love,” he mutters, voice low and rough around the edges. “i tried… really, i did. but work’s been hard, and the days without you just keep stretching longer and longer. every hour feels heavier than the last. please… can we just—”
he swallows, his big, pleading eyes locking onto yours, something raw and vulnerable in them that you’ve never seen before. his hands fidget on your body, unsure, yet desperate for your answer.
“fail. together?”
how can you say no?
and now zayne’s desperately rutting into you while trying to maintain his composure, but it’s been so long… almost 9 whole days without being buried in your warm cunt. his cool facade cracks and every ounce of need pours out of him. every little moan says, “i missed you,” and every thrust says, “i need you.”
and that’s the thing about zayne. he has no trouble saying these things—he says them to you all the time—but words only tell part of the story. the way he fucks you tells it all, in a wild, desperate, overzealous way. every thrust, every grip, every groan screams one thing louder than words ever could— i love you.
his thick cock drags against your sopping walls, as his hands roam your body like he can’t get enough of your body and he wants to etch the memory of the way you feel in his brain. he gropes your tits, runs his fingers down your abdomen, grips at your hips, squeezes at your thighs—hands so hot and heavy, but still sweet and gentle.
“sweetheart,” he moans throatily and it has you sighing in content. “you’ve ruined me—god, i can’t even go 8 days without you.” he finds your hands and laces his fingers with yours.
“you’re so weak, zaynie,” you breathe, a choked laugh slipping out with it.
“i am,” he agrees immediately, nodding as he squeezes your hands in his. “so, so, so weak—always weak when it comes to you.” he lets out a breathy laugh, his voice shaking. “y-you’re all i think about. every second of the day—i think about how you feel wrapped around me… think about filling you up so much you can’t think about anything but me. so you know exactly how it feels.”
your heart flutters in sync with your cunt, his words igniting heat that twists your stomach with need. “think ‘bout you all the time, zayne,” you whimper, and he groans, cock throbbing, balls pulling tight.
“then won’t you cum for me?” he asks, voice hot and sharp. “cum for me so i can fill you up with my cum.” it’s not a suggestion—no, it’s a command.
and really… who are you not to obey? especially when he asks so kindly.
#RAFAYEL: NOVEMBER 16TH @ 4:33 PM
rafayel has been so strong and oh so good. he loves a challenge, and when you first mentioned no nut november, he brushed it off with a cocky, “pffftt, this will be eaaasy.” and god, does he wish he’d said anything else, because now? he can’t take it anymore. the first week was fine—annoying, sure, but manageable. he had urges, but they didn’t own him. by day ten, though, rafayel was restless, pacing, jumpy, painfully aware of every brush of your skin and every thought of you. every single day after that? a living nightmare.
his resolve has crumbled to dust. he doesn’t care about the challenge anymore—can’t care—because you’ve taken over every corner, every crevice of his mind. he can’t paint, can’t sleep, can’t keep forcing himself into cold showers like they’ll save him.
he just needs you, and he needs you bad.
it’s his need that spams your phone with texts.
rafayel ♡: cutie pls come over
rafayel ♡: you win
rafayel ♡: need you :( i cant take it anymore
you: muhahaha, i’ve been waiting for you to fold. i’m on my way ♡
when you arrive at his place with a permanent smirk on your lips, he doesn’t give you much of a chance to gloat, whimpering, “come here.” before molding his soft lips into yours. rafayel needily guides your body into his bedroom, tearing all of your clothes off of you and moaning into your mouth in the process.
“rafayel, sl-slow down.” you attempt to say, but he swallows all of your words, drinking them in like he needs them to sustain himself.
he pulls away from you just to get rid of his clothes and take in the sight of you with swollen lips, hazy eyes and heaving chest dressed in nothing but your underwear. then he’s immediately on you again, pulling your panties to the side and pushing his cock inside of you.
he lets out a guttural moan—raw, shaky, broken. the kind of sound that tells you exactly how badly he’s craved you.
“i–i… oh fuck—cutie, fuck—you’re s’tight.” the words fall apart on his tongue, voice cracking like he’s coming undone inside you. “too tight… please—tell me you missed me as much as i missed you.”
you gasp as your walls stretch around him, fuller than they’ve felt in two aching weeks. your hands grip his strong shoulders, your mouth dropping open in a helpless moan—soft, sweet, impossible to hold back.
rafayel whimpers again at the sound. he hasn’t heard it in so long that now it’s overwhelming him, shattering whatever self-control he thought he still had.
“i–i did miss you, baby,” you whine, nails digging into his shoulders until little red crescents bloom across his warm skin. he hisses at the sting—then his hips snap forward, harder, faster, like the pain only spurs him on.
“r-rafayel—hah! slow down— ‘m not going anywhere!”
“damn right, pretty girl.” he’s panting, voice frayed at the edges, a low chuckle rumbling out of him. “you’re not going anywhere until we make up for all that lost time. we’re never doing this again, right? you won’t make me spend a month without you ever again, right?”
you should tease him—should laugh at the fact he barely survived two weeks—but the truth is you spent that time touching yourself to the memory of him, aching for exactly this… and you never said you’d be participating in no nut november.
so you just nod, breath shaky, a needy sound slipping out of you. “never.”
he groans, a deep, desperate sound, before crashing his lips against yours, kissing you like he’s starving. then his hips drive forward, pressing all the way in, and he spills into you with a needy, helpless moan that trembles against your mouth.
the sudden warmth inside you makes you gasp, but it’s the kind of shock that melts straight into relief, into everything you’ve been aching for these past weeks. your legs wind around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer, keeping him there as he rides out his orgasm—still moving, still chasing yours with shaky determination.
he really, really needed this.
#SYLUS: DECEMBER 1ST @ 12:00 AM
sylus knew you were upset with him. furious, even. he knew you never expected him to actually make it through the entire month of november without a single orgasm—and that’s exactly what made it fun. that’s why he held out as long as he did. your begging was adorable: all the pouts, all the half-assed seduction attempts, all the dramatic threats about killing him if he didn’t fuck you stupid. none of it worked the way you wanted. if anything, it only strengthened his resolve. and that made you livid.
it wasn’t that sylus didn’t want you—god, he wanted you constantly. how could he not when you always looked so perfect, when you kept throwing yourself at him like temptation incarnate?
but the wait? the wait was worth it. more than worth it. he knows it the moment the clock hits midnight, november finally ending—because you’re on him instantly, tearing into him like something starved.
“you bitch,” you practically growl, voice shaky as your hands tear at his clothes. “how dare you leave me hanging for a month?! do you know how many hours i went without you? do you?!”
“720, sweetie. i know because i went that long without you, too.” he drawls, a little smirk on his face hiding the pure excitement that he’s feeling, though his cock shows you just how eager sylus really is. “but it was a challenge. you didn’t really expect me to lose, did you?”
you want to strangle him.
instead, you let your pussy strangle his cock, sinking onto him in one go. your walls painfully stretch to accommodate his size but you breathe through it and take it in stride like you have a point to prove.
“just shut the fuck up and fuck me, sylus.” you groan, grabbing his hands and placing them on your hips. “fuck me good or i will never forgive you.”
his laugh comes out more like a groan, rough and strained, and he nods once before gripping your hips tight. in one effortless motion he lifts you—weightless in his hands—then drops you back down, thrusting up into you at the perfect, brutal angle. “as you wish, pretty girl.”
you cry out, sharp and high, when the tip of his cock slams against your cervix. “sylus!”
“yeah, i got you,” he grunts, voice gritty. a breathy huff of your name slips out of him as his brows pull together in focus. he’s trying… god, he’s trying so hard to stay locked in on your pleasure, to give you everything you’ve been deprived of.
but thirty days without an orgasm…
his balls ache, heavy and swollen, his cock throbbing inside your tight, tight pussy—so tight he can feel your heartbeat around him. and as he pumps into you, desperate and controlled all at once, he starts to feel it—your pleasure mixing with his, bleeding into him until it’s almost unbearable.
your hands palm your tits imagining they’re his hands and you find yourself wishing he had hands everywhere. you want them on your tits, your hips, around your throat, pressing against your clit and stomach—you can’t get enough of him.
this doesn’t help sylus’s dilemma. the sight of you taking every inch of his cock like you own it with your head thrown back makes him damn near feral.
“fuck, baby,” he gasps, fucking into you like a mad man. “missed this—missed you. you feel like heaven.”
“y-you could’ve—hah! you could’ve had me, sy—” you moan with a little bite in your words.
“i know, i know,” he murmurs, voice low and apologetic. “poor thing… i kept you waiting for me. ‘m so sorry. let me make it up to you, sweetheart.”
you’re on your back almost instantly—flipped before you can even register the movement. by the time your vision catches up, your eyes go wide, breath stuttering at how fast he moved.
his thumb finds your clit, circling it with cruel precision, and his thrusts slow to a deep, deliberate rhythm. he wants to draw your orgasm out painfully without letting his own break free. his whole body shakes with restraint. he refuses to cum before you. he won’t. not after making you wait so long.
only when you come apart beneath him—only then will he spill his thick, pent-up seed inside you. and when you do? when you break and gush all over his abdomen, clear liquid spraying over his abdomen with a shattered cry… all he can do is fill you up with a copious amount of cum with a fragmented groan of his own.
you shudder beneath him, twitching with every slow grind of his hips, but even through the haze you manage to get something out—something more than the tangled moans filling the room.
“i hope you can make it to the morning,” you breathe, voice trembling but defiant, “because i’m far from done with you.”
pairing ♱ xavier ⌇zayne ⌇rafayel ⌇sylus ⌇caleb [ separate ]
content warning ♱ premature orgasms, teasing, oral (m. receiving), slight exhibitionism, nipple play (m. receiving), dry humping, wrong use of aphrodisiacs, multiple creampies, breeding kink, xavier in heat, lowkey mean!raf — MINORS DNI 18+
kit says ♱ ty to my creative director @thewrldx AGAIN for helping me choose which direction to go w some of these! and thank u @stonedtaemin for beta reading, i love u both so much. i hope every1 enjoys! probably my last hc of 2025 :,) feedback + comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated ⭑.ᐟ — requested
#CALEB: MISSIN’ U
caleb hasn’t seen you in over a month and it’s been brutal. you were on missions or too tied up with work in linkon while he was tending to his duties as the fleet’s colonel in skyhaven. you don’t know how it happened, but two weeks turned to three and eventually it turned into a month and two days with nothing but facetime calls and texts to keep in touch.
and caleb has been counting the hours he’s been away from you. 795 to be exact. 795 hours that he hasn’t been able to see you. hours that he hasn’t been able to kiss you… touch you… fuck you.
finally, you managed to carve out some time to visit—even if only for a day—and you were determined to make every moment count.
but caleb is practically manic. you barely get the chance to greet him before he’s pulling you into his house and slamming his lips against yours. you can feel the warm tent in his sweats pressing into your lower abdomen and it makes you whimper into his mouth. you can’t deny that you’ve missed him just as bad—that you’ve missed his cock… the weight and feel of it.
he pulls your body into the living room, leaving a trail of his clothes haphazardly on the ground.
he’s panting—hot, desperate breaths fanning over your skin as he drags your shirt up and off like he’s been starving for the sight of you. “missed you so fuckin’ bad, baby,” he rasps, voice raw with need. his fingers find your bra clasp without even looking, popping it open in one smooth motion. the second your breasts bounce free, a filthy moan breaks out of him.
“fuuuuck… my pretty baby,” he groans, mouth crashing back onto yours like he can’t get close enough, can’t breathe without you. “a whole month,” he slurs against your lips, needy and disbelieving, “a whole damn month without you…” the hunger in his voice makes your head swim.
you’re so lost in his kiss, in the heat of him, that you don’t even notice his hands working lower—your jeans unbuttoned, unzipped, pushed down—until he nudges your legs, urging you to kick them off, voice wrecked as he murmurs, “c’mon, baby… off.”
you do as you're told, kicking them off your feet and letting them pool on the ground before caleb is pushing you onto the couch.
he drinks you in, taking in every perfect part of your body. his pupils are blown out like he’s on a drug, breath ragged like he’s run a marathon, cock aching in his boxers like he hasn’t been fucking his fist every night to all the innocent (and not so innocent) selfies and voice messages you’ve sent in your time apart.
then he pounces on you—your panties are shredded and he’s discarded of his boxers and he’s ready to give you the fucking of your life. but then he remembers. it’s been too long—he should definitely prep you and stretch you out with his fingers.
“caleb,” you whimper out when he takes too long to move. “just fuck me. please, i need you s’bad. ‘s been too long.”
“shit, i know, baby, but i need to prep you—”
you shake your head, hand moving down until your fingers pull your folds apart. he zeros in on your gleaming pussy, soaked and dripping with honeyed arousal. caleb all but whimpers at the sight. that alone could make him bust his load all over you, but he restrains himself—he tries to, at least.
he doesn’t keep you waiting for another second, he presses his fat tip into you and bites his lip at the visual of it disappearing inside your cunt. he feels your velvet walls latch onto him for dear life—almost like your pussy missed him too.
“fuck, y-you’re so, ugh, tight, pips,” he grunts, forcing himself in past the resistance, keeping his ears open for any sign of discomfort. by the way you tighten even more at his words and the blissed out moans slipping past your swollen lips, he doesn’t think he needs to be worried. “you miss the way i stretch you out like this?”
you arch your back as he inches in deeper, feeling your cunt mold to the shape of him with ease, “god, yes! ca-caleb, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,”
his cock throbs at your desperation, at your vice like cunt, at the adorable fucked out face you’re sporting. you’re taking him like you’re made for it… no time apart could make your pussy forget whose cock belongs here.
caleb finally bottoms out inside of you, his tip kissing at your cervix. your pussy strangles him so tight that his cock can’t help but twitch uncontrollably—the same way it does when he’s close… and then it happens—so fast he doesn’t even register it until his whole body locks up. he’s cumming inside you with a string of the neediest, broken moans you’ve ever heard from him, every sound high and desperate.
he goes still the moment realization hits. his face burns red, mouth parted, eyes blown wide in a mix of shock and absolute mortification. he came early… no—worse. he came before you.
“baby—” he gasps, glancing down where his cum is already leaking out of you, and the sight alone rips another helpless moan out of his throat. “god, ‘m sorry… ‘s just been so long, a-and i couldn’t help mys—”
“caleb.” you cut him off gently, your smile soft and easy. “‘s okay, baby. really.”
he exhales shakily, the relief on his face undeniable as he nods. he’ll make it up to you—he’s already determined. and with how hard he still is, still buried deep inside you, you both know you’re not going anywhere.
especially when you tighten around him, lean up to his ear, and whisper something wicked enough to make him choke on his breath.
“you have a month’s worth of cum saved up just for me, don’t you?”
#ZAYNE: OVERWORKED/UNDERFUCKED
zayne is an admirable man—hardworking, successful, the kind of perfect that makes people stare. but even perfection has its cracks. his? he neglects his own needs. the heat that coils low in his stomach, the way his cock strains in his slacks when you cross his mind… he always forces it down, choosing work over want.
and that’s where you come in.
what starts as an innocent visit—dropping off the lunch he “forgot” on the counter—quickly shifts into something far less innocent. the moment you step into his office, his desire finally demands to be heard.
you don’t say anything when you walk in. your face, the way you wordlessly set the cute lunch bag on his desk—it says it all. you walk around his desk where he sits, a small smile tugging at his lips and his cock twitching in his pants when he gets a whiff of your scent. then, like clockwork, you sink to your knees in between his legs.
“hi, sweetheart,” he murmurs, cupping your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your cheek.
“four days, dr. zayne…” you lean into his hand, closing your eyes as the warmth seeps into your skin. “four days you’ve gone without an orgasm. that’s quite unhealthy, don’t you think?”
a soft, amused laugh erupts in his throat before he muses, “is it? i don’t remember that being on any of my exams while i was in medical school.”
your eyes flutter open and your hands reach for the button and zipper of his slacks. “nevermind that, doctor. why don’t you just let me take care of you, yeah?” you pull his boxers down enough for his cock to spring out and slap against his button up.
zayne chuckles wryly, nodding his head. “okay, but my lunch is over in 30 minutes–” he hisses when your lips wrap around his tip. “ah, sweetheart,” he breathes in surprise, fingers instinctively lacing into your hair.
you work his tip, tongue swirling around his slit, lapping up his leaking precum. your eyes dart up to gauge his reaction and it sends a rush of arousal through you. his cheeks are flushed—that pretty shade of pink that dusts over his skin every time he’s high on adrenaline and overcome by need.
it urges you on—coaxing you to take more of him, to stretch your lips wider and let him sink deeper. with zayne’s firm guidance at the back of your head, you’re already halfway down his length, the tip brushing the back of your throat. the sound he makes when your throat tightens around him is raw, almost feral.
“fuck, darling,” he growls, fingers twitching with the urge to push you down until he’s buried to the hilt. “you feel so good. y-you… ah—you're taking me s-so, so well.”
the praise sends a shiver through you. you moan around him, picking up your pace, hungry for every broken sound you can drag out of your usually composed, painfully put-together boyfriend. your hand curls loosely around the base of his cock while your other drifts lower, cupping and gently squeezing his balls, eager to unravel him completely.
and zayne’s weak. your hands and mouth work in tandem to make his chest heave and soft sighs slip out of him. you moan and whine around him some more to add to the sensation and it works… boy, does it work.
the vibrations shoot right through him, his entire body tenses and he moans—so shaky like he doesn’t trust the sound coming out of him, so low, yet so loud that the sound echoes in his office. loud enough to test the sound-proofing on the room.
“baby—” he gasps, fingers tightening in your hair, tugging at the roots. the moment you gag around him, his hips jerk forward on instinct. “b-baby, f-fuck, wait—slow down. slo—oh—!”
but you’re past the point of hearing him. your pace only grows messier, hungrier. you drop your hand and force yourself down as far as you can, swallowing every inch you can take. the second he feels himself lodged deep in your throat, his whole body goes rigid.
a rush of broken curses tumbles from his mouth as he falls apart. you choke when the first hot spurts of cum hit the back of your throat, spluttering in surprise before greedily swallowing every pulse of him like you were made for it.
when you finally pull off, you give him a few tiny coughs, your cheeks wet with tears and your breaths uneven. you recover faster than he does—fast enough to see the way he slumps back, bliss-drunk, his hands—just moments ago tangled in your hair—now clamped around the armrests so tight his knuckles have gone bone-white.
his eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused, and when he sees you watching him with that smug, satisfied little smirk… a shudder of embarrassment rolls through him.
“my love,” he pants like all the air in the room has been sucked out of the room. “please don’t tease.”
“that might’ve been a new record, baby.” you say, voice raw. “i don’t even think you came that fast during our first time.”
his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, “please, enough… you know i’ve been stressed.”
“my poor, pent-up doctor.” you rise to your feet, towering over his slack body like you’re savoring the view. he looks spent, dazed, completely undone beneath you—you’re not sure how he’ll get back to work after this. “don’t worry, baby,” you murmur, trailing a finger along his jaw.
“you’re in very good hands now.”
#SYLUS: WEAK
sylus is far from weak. he carries a kind of strength—mental, physical, commanding—that made him leader of the onychiuns in the first place. he has to be strong-willed. unshakeable. untouchable.
but all of that falls apart when you’re in sight.
especially when he walks into his room after a long “business” meeting and finds you nonchalantly stretched across his bed reading a book in nothing but red lace that barely hides anything and his oversized, burgundy robe sliding off your shoulders like you want him to be on his knees. he tries not to falter, tries to keep that cool, indifferent mask he’s known for… but you see right through him. you always do.
you see the way his eye darkens, glowing a deeper shade of red. you see the hitch in his breath. you see the way he starts toward you—slow, deliberate, each step slower than the next.
a predator closing in.
“what’s all this, sweetie?” he hums, voice low and airy. “i wasn’t expecting you to still be awake. you’re usually passed out by this hour.”
“i thought about it… but i wanted to see you, is that so wrong?” you cock your head innocently, abandoning your book in favor of putting your eyes on him. “just wanted to greet the big, bad leader of onychinus when he got home…” you say, slowly rising to sit on your knees before him, his robe nearly swallowing you.
any second now, he’s going to pounce.
he suppresses a groan when he notices your breast practically spilling out of your bra. “and how would one greet the big, bad leader of onychinus?”
once he’s within arms reach, you can see in his eyes that he’s waiting for your permission. the little glint in your eyes or the smile etching into your face that says ‘it’s okay, you can touch me.’
before his hands can touch you, you fist the front of his shirt and yank him forward, catching him completely off guard. in one swift motion, you flip him onto the bed, climbing over him and settling on his lap like you’ve claimed a throne.
he stares up at you, lips parted, eyes just a little too wide—like he’s scrambling to hide the shock, to pretend he saw it coming. but it’s already written all over his face.
he’s the one caught now.
and it’s not that sylus minds when you rip his shirt open, tearing some of the buttons on the crisp fabric off or when you lay sloppy, wet kisses to his burning skin. it’s only when your hips begin to move and your lips trail down his neck and his heaving chest that he realizes what you’re doing.
“is this a punishment, baby?” he pants, groaning when your teeth sink into his large pec. “mad that i kept you waiting for me?”
you grind your hips against his aching cock and he can feel the shape of your pussy… how wet it is through all the layers of fabric between you.
“you were gone for so long, sy… promised you’d be home soon and you lied.” you try to keep your voice steady, but it’s difficult when his cock, slotted between your thighs, stimulates your clit in the best way possible. “so you keep your hands off of me and let me have my fun like a good boy, yeah?”
he smirks up at you, cock twitching, a faint blush dusting his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “yeah, sweetie. go on and punish me… i’ve been bad, haven’t i?”
and maybe it isn’t much of a punishment for sylus at first, but the moment you start grinding your hips down harder—faster—it becomes torture of the sweetest kind. his fingers curl into the satin sheets beside him, knuckles straining as he fights the urge to touch you. to grab you. to flip you beneath him and shove his cock deep into your cunt. he wants to fuck you until you gush all over him, until your tiny hands press against his broad chest, trying—and failing—to push him away.
your lips trail down his chest, slow and teasing, leaving soft, blooming love bites in your wake. each time a deep groan vibrates through his chest, the sound reverberates against your mouth, sending shivers down your spine. and god, the way he moans for you—raw, unrestrained—only makes you grind down harder, delight curling warm and wicked in your stomach.
then your lips wrap around his peaked nipple, teeth tugging and tongue lapping like you’re willing something to come out. you whimper around him and it sends shockwaves through all 6 feet and 2 inches of him.
he gasps as a jolt of pleasure shoots straight through him. were his nipples always this sensitive? he’s never reacted like this before.
“w-what are you— f-fuck, gorgeous, don’t do tha—hah!” his voice breaks beautifully, the last sound spilling out of him in a deep, helpless, breathless cry.
he bites down on his lip hard when you move to his other nipple, giving it just as much attention—just as much torment. it’s abuse in the prettiest form, and he’s completely helpless to it. he tries—really tries—to think about anything other than the overwhelming mix of sensations… your hips grinding down on him, your mouth teasing his chest, the heat pooling low in his stomach way too fast.
but he can’t. he’s drowning in you.
your scent, your soft little whines with every roll of your hips, the way the red lace clings to your body—his favorite set, the one he can never resist. it’s all too much, and he feels himself unraveling beneath you.
when he lets out a long, drawn out groan and you feel the warm, wet patch grow on his pants, you giggle uncontrollably. sylus, leader of onychinus sylus… just came in record time, in his pants at that. all because of some dry humping and nipple play.
you lift your head and take in the defeated sight of him and let a cocky grin etch into your face.
“who knew the big, bad leader of onychinus liked getting his nipples played with?”
#XAVIER: SIDE EFFECTS
there was something wrong with him. something truly, terribly wrong. he could hear his heart pounding in his ears, feel his blood thrumming in his veins, see his cock swelling in his pants and taste you on his tongue even though you weren’t even in the room—let alone the same floor. the need was unbearable. the need to fuck and breed you was almost disgusting, but he couldn’t help it.
he chalked it down to the candy you gave him—you’d told him to save it for a special occasion with a cheeky smile on your face, but xavier didn’t understand what that meant. he figured “save it for a special occasion” meant save it for when he’s craving a sweet treat.
he grabbed the wrapper and, sure enough, the back read “sex chocolate” in big, bold letters. he moaned, throwing it away and pulling out his phone with shaky hands.
xavier: Angel I need U
xavier: I ate the sex chocolate U gave me
you: you did what???
xavier: I ate the whole thing
you: oh fuck. i’m coming up now.
he stands in the open doorway, skin flushed, breaths strained, sweat beading at his forehead. when he sees you, panic across your face—concern etched into your features—he’s not sure why. he doesn’t care. the second you’re within reach, he yanks you into the apartment and slams the door shut, the impact rattling the picture frames of the two of you lining the wall.
“xavier, we need to get you water and—”
you should’ve known you wouldn’t get the chance to finish. his lips crash into yours, hot and desperate, a low moan spilling into your mouth as he all but devours you. his tongue pushes past your lips, demanding, and his hands steer you toward the bedroom. you let yourself melt into him. after all, the fastest way to deal with the heat of an aphrodisiac is to fuck it out of your system.
xavier shoves you back onto the bed, ripping his shirt over his head and fumbling out of his pants before climbing over you to kiss you again. the movement makes your tank top ride up, fabric bunching beneath your chest as his weight presses you into the mattress. his tongue tangles with yours, frantic, like he doesn’t care about the burn in his lungs or the lack of oxygen to his brain. all he can think about is you—feeling you. loving you. fucking you. it’s driving him insane, lighting up every nerve ending until he’s completely consumed by desire. you feel it when the heavy bulge presses into your abdomen, the sticky heat of precum seeping through his boxers and smearing against your skin.
he grinds against you fervently, moaning and whining into your mouth before he pulls back, panting and gasping for air.
“pl-please help me, baby,” he whimpers, he drags his hips down and ruts against your clothed cunt. “need you, need to fuck you s’bad. it hurts… fuck, it h-hurts s’much.”
you nod, mind in a haze from the searing kiss. you voice comes out gravelly. “f-fuck me—you can fuck me, xavie. fuck me till it’s out of your system.”
your permission sends him buzzing, his mind dissolving into static as his hands move before he can even catch up to himself. he tugs your little shorts and panties down your legs, baring you for him—glistening, open, all his.
his gaze devours you, drinking in the way arousal coats your swollen lips, the way your cunt pulses like a living thing, the way your body twitches beneath him with barely restrained anticipation. he doesn’t get long to savor it. with a sharp breath, he frees his cock from his boxers, letting it slap against his toned abdomen.
he doesn’t waste another second. dragging the tip through your soaked slit, he gathers every bit of slick he can before pressing inside with a loud, broken moan, his brows drawing tight as he finally sinks into you.
“f-fffuck,” he curses, pulling his lip between his teeth like he’s trying to will himself to stay strong. to not succumb to the thoughts mixing in with the static. the thoughts that scream: cum in her. fill her to the brim. pour every ounce of what you have inside of her—because he wants to last. he wants you to feel just as good.
but he can’t. he’s hypersensitive. he feels every vein on his cock brand into your walls, every little ridge of your pussy glide against him, that slight resistance that’s trying to push him out— and it’s entirely too much for him to handle.
it’s why a choked, startled moan gets stuck in his throat before he collapses forward, hands clutching your hips for support as he spills inside you far too fast. silver hair clings to his flushed forehead, sweat-damp and wild, his eyes blown wide with shock as the realization hits.
he came first.
and he came fast.
“xavier—you came…”
his words come out ragged as his cock twitches inside of you, still hard and throbbing with need despite his explosive orgasm. “i know, ‘m s-so pathetic—shit, but i-i can keep going… need more. so much more, angel. can’t get enough—feels like ‘m on fire.”
and with his cum beginning to leak out of you, he pulls out, gathers every drop that’s spilled out and pushes it back inside of you.
“gotta fuck you full of my cum and keep it there, you understand, don’t you?” he babbles, thrusting in and out of you with a mix of his cum and your arousal coating his cock.
“after all, it was your chocolate that did this to me, so you should take responsibility, right?”
#RAFAYEL: SORE LOSER
“raf, if we were to go ten days without sex, who do you think would last longer: you or me?” you’d asked, a cheeky smile plastered on your face.
rafayel scoffed at the question—why would you ask such a thing? obviously the answer’s going to be—
“duh, me, of course. i’m much more resilient than you are, cutie.” he answered, a cocky smirk etched into his complacent face.
you hummed, your smile wide despite the fact that he practically called you weak. “if you’re so much stronger than me,” you teased, tilting your head, “then you don’t mind if we test that theory, do you?”
“bring it on.”
rafayel regrets it almost immediately—regrets being so hasty, so quick to agree to ten days without sex. he’d gone far longer than that before you, but now that he has you, even three days feels unbearable. ten is torture.
by day five, he’s already itching to give in. but then he sees how unbothered you are—how calm, how unaffected you seem by the forced celibacy in your committed relationship—and he bites his tongue. no complaints. no cracks.
he’ll win this bet. even if it kills him a little.
when day ten finally arrives, rafayel unravels completely. he’s rougher with you now—pinning you to his bed and kissing you like you’re the only thing keeping him alive. he silences every cheeky remark you throw his way, every tease about how he’s about to lose, how he’s seconds from proving just how weak he is.
for a fleeting moment, he considers shoving his fingers into your mouth just to shut you up—but he decides against it. no. he wants to hear those silly little words falter, crumble, and disappear entirely when he proves his point by making you cum first.
“you really are a brat, y’know,” he grumbles once parting from your lips. his hands peel your clothes off your soft, pliant body and when you finally lie naked under him, his cock—the cock that’s been aching for this—throbs with need under his all too tight boxers. “‘m gonna show you that i’m the winner here, okay cutie?”
you offer a lazy smile and sing, “you can try.”
and it only adds fuel to the fire.
he’s pressing inside of you with an involuntary moan. your pussy envelopes his cock like that’s exactly where it belongs. ten days did nothing, your pussy takes shape to his size instantly and it’s both a blessing and a curse.
a blessing because it means he’s successfully molded your cunt to the shape of him—he’s ruined you for everyone else. not that he’d ever dream of letting you go. ever.
a curse because the mere thought of you being wholeheartedly his, on top of the feeling of your tight pussy for the first time in a third of a month and the sound of your pretty moans—the ones he missed so much—it unnerves him. it’s too much for his brain—his body—to handle.
but he has to hold on to his threading strength. his pride counts on it. the little tug at your lips counts on it. and it might be dramatic, but the entire dynamic of your relationship counts on it. if he loses—if he spills right now like he wants to—then you’ll tease him for eons to come. your last breath will be a teasing remark about how he lost this bet.
then you clamp around him, hugging his cock tighter than before and rafayel lets out a broken moan. “fuck,” he curses, voice cracking weakly.
he’s barely bottomed out before you’re coaxing him with sweet words and a saccharine voice. “c’mon, baby. just cum inside me. i know you want to… can feel your cock throbbing.” you purr, clenching even harder, eliciting a hiss. “let go f’me… ‘s gonna feel s’good, won’t it?”
“sh-shut up.” he grits out, hands fisting at the sheets at both sides of your head.
your arms loop around his neck and your legs hook around his slim waist. your feet dig into his lower back and rafayel just… can’t. “cum, baby.” you whisper.
any last shred of restraint snaps, the tightrope finally giving way. his cum spills inside you as he breaks, a broken whine tearing from his throat—caught somewhere between despair and earth-shattering pleasure.
you moan at the warmth, eyes fluttering shut as you sink into it—the feeling of him filling you, and the delicious realization that you’ve won, that you now have permission to gloat for the rest of your life.
but rafayel doesn’t give you much time to let it sink in because a short while later, he’s pulling out, his fat load of cum dribbling out of you in the process, and slamming his overstimulated cock back in, burying himself at your hilt.
you squeak in surprise, eyes shooting open in shock and you see the mean glower on rafayel’s face. he’s pissed—you can see it in his furrowed brows and his lips turned down in a pouty frown, but especially in his darkened eyes. the playful look that usually resides on his face is replaced with one of indignation.
“raf—” you don’t get the chance to finish because his long fingers fill your mouth and it muffles the rest of your protest.
“j-just shut up and take it,” he grunts, snapping his hips against you like he has something to prove. “your time for talking is up since you just wanna act like a brat.”
you suck and moan around his fingers, losing yourself in the pleasure he gives you. he doesn’t miss a beat—thrusting into you with perfect precision, the tip of him hitting that sweet spot dead-on. the sensation is overwhelming, sharp and delicious, and it sends your eyes rolling back as your body melts around him.
“gonna fuck you till you forget about this stupid bet, cutie—you’ll wish i won instead.”
about ♱ finding out the lads men are freakier than you… or are they?
pairing ♱ xavier ⌇zayne ⌇rafayel ⌇sylus ⌇caleb [ separate ]
content warning ♱ dom/sub dynamics, light bdsm, spank¡ng, filming, oral (m. receiving), slight exhibitionism, car sēx, teasing, degradat¡on, heavy praise, dacryphilia, creamp¡es, squirt¡ng, free use, throat fking, coming untouched, use of kitten in sy’s bc i fw it heavy hehe— MINORS DNI 18+
kit says ♱ we’re so young, we’re so 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 👅 or whatever nct dream said. this is based on the lyrics of freak by doja cat! feedback + comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated ⭑.ᐟ
FREAK LIKE……?
#RAFAYEL: TIED HIM DOWN TO MY QUEEN BED, TEASE HIM JUST ENOUGH TO HATE ME!
ever since the two of you got together, you’ve had this lingering, wicked little fantasy about rafayel–him tied up, completely at your mercy. it crossed your mind more often than you’d like to admit, flashes of his wrists bound while you toyed with him slipping into your head at any given moment, leaving you wet and restless.
but that’s all you figured it would ever be. a daydream you indulged in now and then. rafayel was far too good, too soft, to actually go for something like that.
that was until he came to you with a coil of pale pink rope one day and asked, with a shy smile on his face, “wouldn’t it be fun to try something new… liiiike tying each other up?”
and now?
now rafayel hates himself. he hates the way his stomach fluttered when he first saw the rope and immediately thought of you. he hates that he agreed to be tied up first without a second thought. but more than anything, he hates you. because his typically sweet, angelic princess? she’s not as sweet as he thought. no, she’s cruel. merciless. teasing him in a way that makes him burn for you, and it’s driving him up a wall.
“untie me,” he pants, hands in fists as his wrists are bound to the bed frame. you just giggle and shake your head, your own hand wrapping around his gorgeous, crimson flushed cock that’s covered in his previous load of cum. his eyes widen and breathing quickens, “please, cutie… p-please untie me.” he begs as a last resort, as if it’ll change your mind.
but it won’t.
especially not with the way he twitches back to life in your palm, dick hardening just as fast as he came the first time.
this is 10x better than you’d initially imagined. your boyfriend looks so pretty… so helpless. you almost feel cruel when the tears start to stream down his face, but your pussy says otherwise when it clenches around nothing.
your hand practically turns into a fleshlight, stroking him up and down and up and down, using his cum as lube and he’s just pathetic.
“puh– fuck, fuuck–” he whimpers, bucking into your tight grip. “st-stop, wait!”
you hum, “your mouth says one thing, but your body says another. what’s it gonna be, pretty boy?” you slow to a teasing pace, sliding your hand all the way up to the mushroom head and using your thumb to swipe over his messy slit repeatedly. “you want me to stop or keep going?”
he pulls on the restraints and you can see the rope burning against the skin on his wrists. “oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he whimpers again, voice cracking with each syllable. “b-baby, ‘s too– oh my fuck– too much!”
shaking your head, you tsk at him and pull your hand away. you hear his shocked gasp–almost like he can’t believe you did that. his length springs around, twitching, throbbing and begging for more.
he can’t seem to catch his breath but he looks at you like a little puppy that had his food taken away from him. he pouts, lip wobbling and your sopping wet cunt clenches again. “w-why–”
“i asked you a question, raf.” you say, tone flat. “do you want me to stop? or do you want me to keep going? it’s your choice.”
and rafayel curses you for this. he doesn’t want to submit to you, but his body aches– his cock aches. he needs it. you. more. he’ll take it.
so he nods, voice cracking when he says through gritted teeth, “k-keep going.” and he sounds so broken and defeated when he utters out a hushed beg. “please…”
a diabolical smile etches into your lips when you catch the burning embers in his eyes. he’s furious that you’ve put him in this position– that much you can see. but you also know the truth. he needs you more than his pride. if getting to cum for you means he has to swallow said pride, then so be it, but you know your rafayel. you know resentment twists tight in his chest. you can see his grinding teeth and the tight set of his jaw… your revenge is coming.
you don’t let it stop you, though. your hand wraps tight around the base of his twitching cock and you pump him up and down, over and over with ease and you bask in the sweet, melodic moans and the sight of him tugging at the rope. and you squeeze every little drop of cum out of your darling boy.
#ZAYNE: I AIN’T AFRAID OF A LITTLE PAIN!
the first time zayne slapped your ass, you thought it was an accident. that maybe, just maybe he had gotten a little too into it.
the second time, you were skeptical because as soon as you squeaked in surprise, you heard a moan of his own and felt the way his cock twitched wildly inside of you.
the third time was when you baited him and you fully realized your boyfriend got off on spanking you.
zayne had one of those days at work– you could tell the moment he walked in. his shoulders were drawn up tight, his answers clipped down to single words, his whole body strung taut. even when you leaned in to kiss him, he didn’t soften. he stayed rigid, wound far tighter than usual.
so you offer yourself to him. tell him he can use you how he likes to help alleviate all of his pent up stress and anger.
you make it clear you can take it, that he doesn’t have to hold back or treat you delicately like he always does. and zayne believes you. he can see it in your eyes, the absolute certainty– 110% sure this is what you want.
and really, who is he to say no?
he had you bent over his lap in record time, pulling your leggings down till they bunched up at your thighs. your excitement was already showing, slick arousal creating a wet spot on your cotton panties.
he lets out a shaky breath and you feel his hard cock throbbing as it’s pressed into your tummy. “let me know if it’s too much, okay? don’t wanna hurt you, baby.”
there’s a smile in your voice when you respond. “i’m not afraid of a little pain, zaynie. do whatever you want to me.”
he curses under his breath, rough palm smoothing over your ass, squeezing the fat every so often.
“then count for me.”
you furrow your eyebrows in perplexity but before you can ask what for, you feel his hand strike against your left cheek— hard enough to leave a red hand print and a sting in its wake. all you can do is gasp for breath and widen your eyes in shock.
then he does it again, right cheek this time and you moan. “did you hear me?” he asks, voice hard and stern. “i said, count.”
“y-yes, ‘m sorry,” you whimper, the damp spot on your underwear spreading. at this rate, you’ll be leaking down your thighs by the time he’s done with you. “one.”
“good girl,” he says, and you wiggle in his grasp, pussy aching at the gentle praise. he quickly puts an end to your squirming by spanking you again. “don’t move.”
“fuck, t-two,”
he groans when you arch your back and sob into the couch at the next strike, moaning ‘three’ into the cushion. “is this turning you on, sweetheart?” slap. “letting me take my stress out on you like this?” slap.
you don’t even bother counting anymore, nodding your head with fervor and mewling out, “l-love it– ah!” another strike to your ass makes you squeal. “pl-please, zayne! please fuck me, ‘m so… fuck, ‘m– god, need you s’bad, please.”
zayne can’t help but moan at your shameless state, one hand slipping under your ruined cotton panties and feeling your wet pussy. his cock twitches with more interest when he pulls his fingers back and examines how they shine with slickness. how, when he pulls his fingers apart, they stay connected with a sting of your syrupy arousal.
how could his girl like getting spanked so much?
but the real question that needs to be asked is, why is he about to bust a load in his slacks when you turn to look at him and he sees those pretty, red rimmed eyes?
he revels in your whines and begs for more, breath hitching and stomach knotting up. he can’t help himself– spanking you again and again and again, the sounds of claps and sobs bouncing off the walls of the living room and shooting straight to his throbbing, achy cock. until–
he grabs your stinging ass with his hand, squeezing at your flesh and he moans. his head lolls back, adams apple bobbing as he thrusts up against you. the tightrope in his tummy just… snaps.
did he just…?
you sniffle, confused at his sudden halt. “wh-why did–” and you feel him– the warm wet spot on his pants. then you gasp, “zayne…”
he’s panting, slightly mortified, but he attempts to calmly say, “don’t.”
he says it like a warning. like if you tease him, he’ll destroy you.
you know this, and you say it anyway.
“did you just… cum from spanking me?”
#XAVIER: WHEN I MADE A LITTLE MESS ON IT, HE TOLD ME TO CLEAN MY ACT UP!
xavier always had a knack for making you fall apart on his cock. it was simple, really. it didn’t matter what position you were in, whether you were getting fucked from behind or sinking down his cock, you were always a mess by the end of it.
and xavier? he finds it absolutely adorable that he has this effect on you. he never teases you for squirting all over him or for coming undone the second he bottoms out.
but when his mean streak slips through… he’s almost unrecognizable.
like now, for example, you’re riding him into oblivion, but it’s so very obvious that you’re the one getting fucked here. he’s thrusting his hips up, snapping them to meet yours because you just can’t seem to go as fast as you want to on your own. and he knows you like the back of his hand. he knows you’re wanting more, needing more.
his hands clamp firmly around your hips and he stares up at you with lidded eyes and a lazy, lopsided smile tugging at his lips. “such a needy girl,” he pants out, teasingly. “thought you said you could take it, hmm? feels like ‘m doing all the work.”
you throw your head back at this, feeling him hit your sweet spot with every sharp thrust. “xavieee,” you whine, dragging out his name. “‘m cumming– gonna make a mess.” it’s a warning, but xavier takes it as a challenge.
his thumb immediately finds your clit, rubbing the neglected bud with newfound quickness. “do it.” he demands and you don’t waste a single second, pussy gushing as you come undone.
but he’s not done. you may be spent–wrung out and trembling– but xavier is far from it. contrary to belief, his stamina is unparalleled when it comes to sex.
which is why he’s pulling you off of his lap and chuckling at the sight of his sheen drenched cock and abdomen.
“you did make a mess,” he says as a matter of factly. “you’ll clean it up, though. won’t you, baby?”
you give him a broken nod, fucked absolutely stupid. the next thing you know, your head is on his stomach and your lips are wrapped tightly around his dick– the very same that’s coated in your arousal.
you taste the tangy essence that belongs to you and moan around him, the sound vibrating through his body. a low groan slips from his lips as his hands come down, brushing your hair back– only, they don’t move away. they stay there, holding you in place. when they finally move, he’s pushing you further down his cock till he hears you gag and feels your throat constrict around his tip.
“that’s it, honey. take it, just like that– fuck,” he groans out soft, encouraging words, guiding you up and down. “can you taste yourself on my cock? huh?”
you hum in agreement, attempting to nod, but his grip on your head is strong.
“i hope so– i mean, you made such a big mess,” he says, a lilt in his voice. “soaked me so well… my messy baby.” all of a sudden, he pushes you so far down that your lips meet the base of his length. he holds you there like he’s training your throat to memorize the shape of him. “you gotta clean all of it up now. good girls clean up after themselves, don’t they?”
you splutter and splutter, bubbles of saliva forming around him while tears rush to your eyes. your hand shoots to his thigh and you grip him tightly, nails biting into the thick muscle.
“fuck, you’re so good,” he pants wildly, hissing softly when you continuously swallow around him. “you’re s-such a good girl.”
he pulls you back up and you’re coughing and gasping with drool pooling out your mouth and salty tears running down your flushed face. with your throat raw you rasp out his name and he releases you.
you glance back at him, eyes wide, catching the way his pupils are blown dark. his chest heaves with every breath, rising and falling too fast– and you know he’s close. the sight only makes you want to push him further.
“keep going, you’re not done.” he says, soft and demanding.
and you’re not used to this version of xavier– the xavier that makes you take it. the xavier that makes lick his abdomen clean while you stroke his cock. the very same xavier that calls you a messy girl and his good girl in the same breath, but it has your achy, battered cunt leaking and begging for more.
and when he’s finally cumming, shooting his load all over your hand and face, you clean up his mess then too.
#CALEB: FREAK LIKE A TRIPLE XXX FLICK!
as much as caleb wanted you with him in skyhaven, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave linkon– not when you were needed as a hunter. it meant your time together was always fleeting.
and so, every stolen moment was spent tangled up in his massive king bed or your small full sized one, holding each other close. sometimes you talked about the next time you’d meet again, and sometimes… you didn’t need words at all.
but caleb hates the distance more than he’ll ever admit. his fist is nothing like your warm cunt and he can’t keep getting off to just the thought of you– he can’t. he needs to hear your voice. needs to see your pretty face when he’s cumming all over his hand and stomach.
then he gets an idea while you’re over in skyhaven one weekend: “what if we made a sextape?”
and caleb feels the need to beg you for it, as if you wouldn’t agree with a pretty, bright smile. “it’s just so hard without ya, y’know?” he mumbles. “please, baby. i always wake up thinkin’ about you ‘n i can’t do anything about it because you’re not here ‘n i need you–”
you cut him off with a sweet giggle,“caleb, breathe.” your eyes glimmer with mirth. “let’s do it.”
he groans out i love you’s and peppers kisses all over your face, eternally grateful to have such an amazing girl all to himself.
and now, with his phone propped up against one of his model airplanes, he’s pounding into you with vigor spewing out the nastiest words– things you’ve never ever heard him say before and you think the camera deals a great amount of influence on his behavior.
“yeah, pips, look into the camera f’me. watch how i fuck this pretty pussy open, watch how you take this fuckin’ dick like you own it.” he says breathlessly, hands pinning your thighs back to your chest.
you turn your head to look at your body being defiled by his. you watch how he practically turns you into his personal fleshlight, fucking you like he’s making you memorize the shape of his cock and it makes you clamp tightly around him.
“my pretty girl is such a slut for my cock, isn’t she?” he laughs and there’s an edge of mania in the sound. his hand moving to your face and turning your attention back to him. “say ‘i love it, caleb,’”
your face burns hot in mortification, but you oblige and stutter out, “l-love it, caleb.”
he hums proud, his cock throbbing as he slams in and out of you. “know you do, baby. now tell me what i wanna hear, yeah? say it loud and clear.”
you know he wants to hear those three little words. everytime you’ve told caleb you love him during sex, he loses his mind. his stomach knots up, his brain turns off and all he knows is you, you, you.
so you give him what he wants like you always do. like his good girl.
“i l-love you– fuck– caleb!”
he shakes his head and leans in closer, hushed words fanning your face, “nu-uh, again. say it like you mean it.”
you do. you say it as steady as possible, words spoken with your chest. “i love you, caleb!”
he moans, grip on your thighs tightening while he fucks into the spot that turns you to mush every time without fail. “that’s it, baby. one more time for the camera, make it count. say it while you cum all over caleb’s cock.”
you turn your head, taking in your disheveled state. with your brows furrowed and tears in your eyes, you notice how your body is bent in the nastiest mating press while caleb fucks you like a machine on the highest setting, like he’s desperate for it.
you moan out the words this time as your orgasm washes over you, “i love you, caleb, love you, love you s’bad.” you repeat his name like a mantra, as if it’s the only word you’ll ever know.
he moves your head back again and waits for you to open your eyes before he says it back, “and i love you. so fuckin’ much, baby.”
you wrap your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, pulling him close and smashing your lips against his. you swallow all of his gasps and moans while he rams himself deep inside of you and lets thick ribbons of cum paint you white.
he collapses on top of you, his face finding solace in the crook of your sweaty neck, dick still semi hard in your messy cunt. after a few moments, he murmurs against your skin,
“wanna make another?”
#SYLUS: I COULD FUCK HIM IN THE RAIN, I COULD FUCK HIM IN THE RANGE!
it’s date night with sylus. you’re at this fancy restaurant– the best in linkon– walls covered in michelin stars and positive food reviews written by egotistical food journalists. you’re in a gorgeous dress, courtesy of your lavish boyfriend, of course, and you’re both starving.
but neither of you are looking at the luxurious (and expensive) plates on the table. no, the tension at your table is palpable and it’s obvious to your poor waiter that neither of you are hungry for the food, but each other.
he watches you like a predator sizing up his prey, while you look at him like you’re ready to make him a father. the tension only sharpens when you trail your heel up his leg, letting out soft moans after every bite. “mmph, it’s so good, sy.”
his eyes glint with amusement, that cocky smirk etched so deeply into his face it might as well be permanent. “playing with your food, kitten?”
you bite your lip, continuing to graze your foot up and down his leg. “it seriously is good… i dunno, though. i think i’m craving something else, sy…”
he suppresses a groan and immediately throws a few hundred dollar bills and a very generous tip on the table. you’re out of there before you get the chance to realize with his hand on the small of your back guiding you out of the restaurant with swiftness.
and your legs don’t stop until you reach his sports car where he presses you flush against the cool steel. he cages you in, looking handsome even under the harsh glare of the bright street lights then he finally speaks, voice ragged.
“you’ve been a tease all night, sweetie.”
and you nearly crumble right then and there. instead, you tilt your chin up, eyes twinkling with mischief as you meet his scarlet glare. “then do something about it.”
he answers with that low, rich laugh before offering a slow nod. suddenly, he’s closing the distance and his lips are on yours. his large hands cup your head and he deepens the kiss, shoving his tongue in your mouth, turning you into a complete and utter mess. he kisses you like he’s trying to satiate his hunger.
you know he would’ve fucked you right there, out in the open, if you really wanted it, but the clap of thunder had other plans.
that’s how you end up in his lap, your mini dress bunched up around your waist, his hands gripping your hips to guide you as you ride him all the while the heavy rain drums against the car windows.
and, fuck, he’s so big– it takes everything in you not to completely lose your mind as he fills all your senses.
“sy– sylus,” you shudder, hands on his broad shoulder as your grip wrinkles his shirt. “fuck, sy, you’re so b-big.”
and his cock throbs at this admission.
“you can handle it, baby.” he declares, breathily. “you know just how to take my cock every time.”
you feel like he’s moving you with more haste, hands moving to your ass and squeezing at your supple flesh. he lifts you all the way up until it’s just his tip teasing at your hole then lets gravity take over, dropping you down till he’s bottomed out inside of you.
he groans softly, “you drive me crazy. almost like you wanted me to fuck you in the middle of that resturant.”
the thought of him taking you like that in front of everyone has your mouth running dry and your pussy clamping around him like a vice.
he chuckles, dryly. “you’d like that, though, wouldn’t you? look at you, you’re practically salivating at the thought of me fucking you in front of an audience… what am i going to do with you, kitten?”
you choke on a mewl, digging your nails into his shoulders. “fuh–fuck me harder, pl-please.”
you’re on the precipice of an orgasm and sylus isn’t as far behind as you think. his hands grasp you tighter, surely tight enough to leave your ass bruised. “as– hah! as you wish.” he nearly growls, meeting your hips half way and fully sheathing himself inside of you.
and you can taste your orgasm— the same way you can practically feel his cock in your throat. your body goes rigid above him, face scrunching up and moans getting louder as they compete with the pitter patter of the rain outside.
then you snap, creaming and shuddering above him with a cry of his name.
and it’s oh-so pretty to sylus. he can’t help but follow suit, thrusting into you until his warm seed fills you up. there’s just so much and you softly whine when you feel it spill out if you and gather at the base of his cock.
your limp, slumped over his body with his cock still wedged inside of you.
“can’t move.” you mumble into his neck, nuzzling your face against him.
he hums, rubbing a gentle hand over your back. “rest, sweetie. we’ll be back home before you know it.”
they joke about you being needy but you take it seriously so you stopped kissing and sleeping with them and suddenly they're not laughing anymore.
mdni. 18+ only. grinding. suggestive but no actual sex. reader enjoys being an insufferable tease <3
sylus.
You pushed him down on the couch and straddled his thighs while one of his hand runs up and down your back, and the other rests on your waist.
He breaks free from your deep kiss with a playful smirk on his face.
"You've been quite needy lately, kitten."
You paused.
Needy?
"Oh."
Sylus froze as soon as he saw the lack of amusement on your face.
"I didn't mean — "
"No, you're so right." You suddenly got off his lap and expertly dodged the hands that attempted to catch you and pull you back down. "I really should calm down, shouldn't I ?"
"No — "
"That's such a great idea, Sylus." you smiled and pinched his cheek. "Let's do something else instead. Let's make cookies!"
That was the start of Sylus' awful week, when he didn't get to touch you at all.
No hand holding.
No hugs.
No kisses.
No sex.
Sylus thinks he might actually go insane.
But he can't lose your game so easily.
He'll toughen up if he must.
He lasted years without you and he had successfully kept his distance from you, no matter how difficult and tempting, until the time was right.
His patience and self-control are not to be underestimated.
He'll be fine.
That's what Sylus keeps reminding himself every time he gets the urge to hold you. Every time his eyes fall to your lips, he tells himself that he'll survive without them.
You're trying to punish him for calling you needy, but he won't give in.
He'll wait until you give in.
It's more fun that way.
Okay, so this is harder than he thought.
It's day two and he's already weak on the knees from the very moment you walked out of the bathroom wearing the dress for tonight's date.
Sylus watched you put on your heels, flashing him a part of your thighs while doing so, and he wanted to run a hand on it to feel your smooth skin.
"Sylus?"
He blinked out of his trance to realize you just asked him a question. "What was that, sweetie?"
"I was asking if it'll be cold in the restaurant you chose, so I can know if I should bring a jacket or not."
He shook his head. "You'll be just fine."
That was a total lie.
It turned out to be cold as your table was specially reserved at a rooftop of a building.
However, it just so happens that Sylus has a jacket and the cold wasn't affecting him, so he was able to give it to you.
With a grin on his face, Sylus pulled your seat right next to his and gently put the jacket around your shoulders, making sure his fingers brush against your skin even if it's only for a second.
"Thanks." as you gave him a smile, you slightly moved closer to his face. "I feel much better now."
Sylus made the mistake of looking at your lips. Without much thought, his head tilted down and his nose grazed yours before aligning your lips.
"Wow! This wine is so good! Try it!" You shoved your glass of wine to his lips before scooting your chair back to its initial place, a couple of feet away from him.
Sylus almost choked on the alcohol but gladly accepted your offer. He put his lips on the same spot that had your lipstick stain on it.
At the very least, he got to enjoy an indirect kiss that should keep him satisfied for the rest of the week.
Or so he thought.
Day four.
The frustration has gotten to Sylus.
It's like owning the world's most valued weapon yet not being able to use it.
He can look, but he can't touch.
It's much more difficult than he thought.
Especially when you're doing everything in your power to make him cave in.
Well, technically, you aren't doing anything out of the ordinary.
Right now, all you're doing is hitting the punching bag in the exact way that he taught you, but the way you look at the moment is making him want to grab you and pin you down — or you can be the one to pin him down. It doesn't matter to him. All he wants is his body to be pressed against yours.
Sylus quietly growled under his breath.
He clenched his fist and started to hit the other punching bag, hoping to take away some of the tension burning inside him, particularly inside his shorts.
You tilted your head and watched curiously as Sylus' punches to the sandbag has gotten heavier, leaving such satisfying sounds at the impact.
"Whoa! So good! You look like you're getting ready to beat up some real nasty bad guys. Did anyone piss you off or something?" You picked up the clean towel nearby and held it up towards his face to wipe the sweat on his forehead. "You do look tense lately."
Sylus' left hand suddenly caught the one you're using to wipe his face. "You're a vicious little kitten."
He gave your hand a kiss before stepping back and patting your head before walking out of the room and leaving you alone.
"Hey, where are you going?! We haven't sparred yet!"
"Shower." He looked over his shoulder to give you a smirk. "Would you like to join?"
You almost agreed in a heartbeat.
But you have to stay strong.
"Nope, I'll just stay here and keep practicing so I can kick your ass the next time we spar."
Your own answer only disappointed the both of you.
Day seven.
You and Sylus went out for a ride on his newest motorcycle at night, on the empty, spatious roads of N109.
It was the worst idea of all.
As the one that's manipulating the vehicle, you're the one sitting at the front and you took advantage of the close proximity by pressing your ass right against his crotch.
Sylus had to concentrate on making sure his grip on your waist doesn't hurt you, with the way his body had gone stiff. Every part of him.
Every bump on the road slammed your hips against him and he had to hold his breath every time. His pants became tighter and tighter by the minute, and his breath had gotten unsteady.
He was sweating throughout the entire ride.
And once you finally made it back to his place, Sylus' patience finally broke.
From the moment you got off the motorcycle, Sylus quickly removed his motorcycle before taking off yours.
As soon as your face was in clear view, before you could even comprehend what was happening, Sylus' left hand caressed your jawline before locking his lips with yours.
Your eyes widened with surprise, though you didn't waste a precious second to kiss him back and pull him close by grabbing onto his shoulders.
Sylus didn't dare to pull away until he was out of breath. Even then, he'd only stop for a second before diving back in like a starved man.
Every time you'd pull back to gasp for air, Sylus would come after your lips and slip his tongue between them to capture yours.
"You win." he huffs in between kisses while your hands run through the strands of his hair. "I yield."
"Heh?" you can't help but grin. "What are you talking about? What are you yielding for?"
"Don't play innocent, kitten. You know what you've been doing." He tapped your forehead as you laughed. "I won't call you needy ever again, so if you could stop teasing me, I'd greatly appreciate it." he whispered against your ear before kissing it softly, "I don't know how long I can keep holding back."
"Since you learned your lesson...." you pressed your lips under his jaw. "You don't need to hold back anymore."
That was all he needed to hear.
Sylus wrapped your legs around his hips and kept you up against him as he made his way into his bedroom.
zayne
You're drawing random patterns with your finger on Zayne's bare chest as you cuddle with him when suddenly, he made a lighthearted joke.
"Your libido has been rather high lately. Based on my record, your premenstrual syndrome symptoms shouldn't be showing up for another two weeks."
You looked up to see the playful grin on his face.
"Oh, is that right?" you huff. "Must be my diet or something. No worries, I'll fix it."
Zayne blinked with confusion. "Huh?" But he received no more response for an explanation as you closed your eyes and drifted oft to sleep.
It was only until the very next day when he realized his mistake when he received absolutely zero kisses.
He was quick to figure out what brought on such an evil scheme.
"Oh, no..."
Day three.
You stopped by his work to join him for lunch, just as he requested.
Zayne observed that you're not angry with him and you have no problem spending time with him. You act normal for the most part. The one big change with your behavior is that you refuse to give him any physical affection.
You didn't even give him a hug as you greeted him.
It feels strange. It's like he's forgetting something as important like his wallet or his car keys.
"Are you punishing me for what I said the other day?"
"What you said the other day?"
"You know... about your high libido...."
He could've sworn a vein popped out from your forehead just now and he does his best to suppress a smile of amusement. He's already in trouble. He doesn't want to dig his grave any deeper.
"Nope! I don't care at all!"
Despite the words that came out of your mouth, you continued to make him suffer.
Later that day, you met up aftet work to drink milk tea while taking a night stroll around the city during such a lovely weather.
The way you were smiling the whole time made Zayne want to hold your hand and keep you close to him.
And yet, you were constantly moving around so much, either on purpose or due to all the sugar from your drink, so he ended the night feeling somewhat emptyhanded.
He hasn't realized until now just how much he enjoys even the little touches you grace him with.
Day five.
You and Zayne attended a formal event.
It's a banquet for the hunters association and you were obligated to come, and he was your date, so you two dressed up nicely to follow the dress code.
Although, if he was being honest, Zayne wishes you two are still in your apartment, where he can have you all to himself.
Ever since he had come to your home to picked you up, he couldn't keep his eyes off you. And throughout the event, he has been rather... uneasy.
As you're eating dessert, Zayne can't help but imagine tasting it from your lips. It has been days since he last kissed you, and he needed to be reminded of your sweetness.
He needed to feel the warmth and softness of your skin underneath your dress.
Zayne lets out a shaky breath before loosening his tie.
It seems that the room suddenly feels hot.
Or maybe it's just his racing mind and heart and the blood rushing down below his hips.
"Zayne, are you okay?"
You scooted your chair closer to him so that your legs are touching. You faced him and put a hand on his forehead.
"You feel warm. Are you sick?"
Zayne lets out a laugh that was half-nervous. "Are you teasing me again?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just worried about you."
He detected from your tone that you are indeed teasing him.
On the drive back, Zayne was clutching the steering wheel as his mind continues to race, imagining all the things that he'd been wanting to do with you. Sitting still became difficult with a bulge rising through his pants.
But yet again, he ends the night without a single touch from you.
And Zayne has decided, he'll never joke about anything ever again.
Day six.
On his day off, Zayne had taken you out for a picnic and the torture continues.
Whenever you two have a picnic, there's lots of cuddling involved. This time, there's none at all and there's the Happy Snowman plushie sitting right between you two as a barrier.
You two are playing kitty cards and Zayne seems to be on top of his game today.
After all, he had a special proposal.
"Whoever wins must do something that the winner wants."
It's a simple but classic prize that no one can ever resist, so you gladly accepted the challenge thinking you'd easily win.
But Zayne's focus is unshakeable.
He's consecutively dropping assist cards to take away your points, and somehow he's stocking up all the sixes.
He won't even let you switch cards by acting cute. That's how serious it is right now. The stakes are high.
After six rounds, Zayne comes out as the winner.
"How could this happen?!"
Zayne chuckles at your dramatic cries, aggressively shaking Happy Snowman as if it was the one responsible for your loss.
Unfortunately for Happy Snowman, it's Zayne's turn to have your attention.
Zayne snatched the plushie out of your hands and set it aside.
"Darling, it's time for me to claim my prize."
You sigh and bowed playfully. "Yes, yes, congratulations for being crowned as the King of the Kitties. What can I do for you, Your Highness?"
Zayne smiled and gently held your chin with his fingers before guiding you to look up so you can lock gazes.
"Kiss me."
Your mouth drops at his request, face immediately heating up.
"Oh."
He found a way to end your silly little game.
He really is a clever boy.
"Your wish is my command~"
At last, you stop holding back against your urges and brought yourself on his lap.
Zayne eagerly welcomes you into his arms and wraps them around you tightly, making sure you don't try to escape.
His lips meets yours with desperation and his hands slides down to your thighs, encouraging you to sway your hips back and forth.
Between the deep and heavy kisses, he mutters, "I joked about you being needy yet here I am, being the needy one. But it's all your fault. Are you going to take responsbility for it?" Zayne pressed you down against his hips to let you feel just how hard he is for you.
"...should we end picnic early?"
"We should end picnic early."
caleb
You stumbled into his room while removing his shirt and almost tripped on his feet as you reached the bed.
"What's the rush, Pip-squeak? And here I thought I was the needy one."
Your hands come to a halt.
"What did you say?"
"I said there's no need to rush, I'm not going anywhere — "
"No, you just called me needy just now."
Caleb chuckles at your furrowed brows.
"I was joking, Pip— what are you doing?" you picked up his shirt that you dropped on the floor and threw it at his chest before walking out of his room.
"Gonna be needy all by myself in my room. Goodnight."
"Wha — hey wait!"
It's too late. You stomped your way into your own room and Caleb is left all alone with a boner that remained standing until his mood died down.
Caleb sent you a bunch of stickers, hoping you'd come back beside him. Sadly, you ignored all of them and he was forced to sleep with a cold, empty bedside.
The next day, Caleb woke up early and prepared breakfast for the two of you as usual. You came out of your room and lazily greeted him a good morning, so he was relieved to know that you weren't really mad.
But once he tried to kiss you on the cheek after giving you a cup of coffee and you blocked his lips with the palm of your hands, he learned that he's not completely off the hook just yet.
"No."
"Huh?"
"No kisses."
"What?! Why?!"
You almost laughed at the way his face shifted, looking like a little boy who'd gotten his favorite toy taken away.
"Because. I don't want to seem needy."
"Come onnnn, it was a joke! I'm sorry!" he tried to embrace you from the back but you stood up and moved away.
"Wow, look how nice the weather looks today!" you exclaimed as you look out the window, admiring the clouds of Skyhaven.
Caleb pouts at the way you deflected him.
Knowing how you behave whenever you're being petty, he has to brace himself for the worst few upcoming days of his life.
Day two.
The pout hasn't left his face.
You two are working out together at his home gym and he's pouting as he's doing push ups.
You're not even sitting on his back and motivating him to do more reps. You're just doing your own sets of excercises in front of him while pretending he's not there.
"Pip-squeak, look. I'm doing push-ups with one hand."
"...."
"Now I'm doing push-ups with just one finger!"
"..."
No matter what he did to grab your attention, he just couldn't get you to look at him.
But what if....
"Whew, it's so hot in here."
Caleb took off his shirt and threw it aside.
He tries not to grin as he caught you sneaking glances from the corner of your eye.
Now, he'll do pull-ups on the bar right in front of you.
Or at least, that was the plan.
His shirt was thrown back at his chest just like the other night.
"Caleb you dummy. You'll get cold."
You walked out of the room and he was back to pouting.
Day four.
You went back to Linkon at Monday morning. Caleb couldn't believe he lasted four whole days without getting a single kiss from you. He didn't even get to hold your hand or pat your head.
The lack of physical affection and intimacy should be nothing to him since he always had to hold back from acting on his feelings for you. He was willing to wait forever for you.
But now that he thinks about it, he'd always been touchy with you.
Even before you were in a romantic relationship, he'd given you plenty of hugs, he'd given you lots of forehead kisses, he'd hold your hands whenever you let him, he'd hold you when you don't want to sleep alone, and he'd even kissed your cheek during the times whenever you pretended to be a couple.
Physical affection has always been a part of your relationship.
Taking it away is like taking away a pilot's airplane.
Well, maybe it's not that drastic but it surely feels that way to Caleb.
Now that he's able to kiss you and hold you whenever he wants, he can't stop. He loves being with you and becoming one with you.
He can't help but seek for your touch.
It's only been a few days but he misses your warmth. He misses how you taste. He misses the sounds you'd make.
Oh, he definitely won't survive for long.
This scheme of yours has to end now.
Day five.
You got a good jumpscare when The Colonel showed up at your doorstep at night, in his full uniform and all.
Before opening the door, you peeked through the peephole and took note of his serious expression, just as The Colonel often appears as.
But the scary demeanor vanished the moment you oppened the door.
His face lights up and you're flashed with the warm smile you've used to seeing.
"Caleb! What are you doing here?!"
"I just dropped by to bring you something you forgot at my house. It's pretty important so I thought I'd make a trip to Linkon so you don't worry about it."
You let him in your apartment, trying to recall what you could have forgotten. You were able to get through a long day at work without noticing anything missing, so what could've been that important that he had to give to you immediately?
"What did I forget?"
Caleb dug something from one of the pockets of his coat.
"Ta-da! Here you go~"
Caleb took your left hand and dropped something to your palm.
".....Are you being serious right now?"
A hair clip.
"What? It's something that you use every day, is it not? I know you were probably feeling weird without it. You're welcome."
"...I leave this behind on purpose. I always use it whenever I'm at your house, every time I'm doing my hair. It was meant to stay there."
Caleb laughs and scratches the back of his head. "Oh, my baaaad, Pip-squeak. Ah, but since I'm already here, might as well have dinner together!I'll help you cook~"
He removed his hat and coat before entering your kitchen. You're in the middle of making dinner too, so he somehow arrived perfectly on time.
You should've known he came in with a mission.
As he goes around the kitchen, he does everything possible to accidentally touch you.
He'd lightly bump into you and touches your shoulder as he apologizes.
His hand brushes against your waist to move you aside so he can pass by.
He stands behind you and reaching over you so he could get some containers on the cabinet, making sure to grind his hips against your ass just for a brief second.
Eventually, you found yourself cornered against the fridge.
"What are you doing?"
"Making dinnner." you glare at him and he was quick to give you a pout. "...And trying to win your attention because you've been so mean to me by neglecting me."
"Neglecting?" you tilted your head. "But I thought I was being needy."
Caleb groans before completely losing his patience.
He pulls you into a hug. "I'm sorry! I won't say it again! Please don't punish me anymore I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry — " his embrace starts getting tighter at every word, making you cough dramatically.
"Jeez, alright fine! I get it, now let me go — "
"Never!"
Caleb lifts you off the ground and nuzzles his face against yours. "So soft and so warm ~"
"Caleb, the pot is boiling!"
"The pot can wait. I'm busy."
"Caleb — " the sizzling noises from the stove forced him to jump away from you.
"Okay I'm coming!"
rafayel
"You don't need to be so needy cutie, I'm not going anywhere~"
You pulled away from his kiss and raised a brow at him. "Needy...?"
Rafayel's eyes widen as he realized what he just said. "I — I was just joking!"
"Right..."
You laughed along but five minutes later, the kisses suddenly stopped and your attention shifted to your phone to play a silly game (one that he recommended to you in the first place).
Rafayel didn't think much of it. He was able to cuddle with you as the two of you fell asleep that night.
But once he woke up, things started to seem weird to him.
As you left to go to work, you didn't give him a kiss. You always give him a kiss. You rushed out of the studio before he could even remind you about it.
He didn't get to see you for the rest of the day because the Wanderers robbed him all of your time and energy.
At the very least, he was able to videocall with you and chat with you about how your day went. Though, seeing your sleeping face made him wish he was next to you so he could comfort you and ease your exhaustion.
Day two.
You joined him for a stroll at the beach and helped him collect some shells. He tried to hold your hand but you not-so-subtly moved away from him.
The face he made was worthy of a drama actor award.
"Are you worried I'd give you a virus? Come here, cutie, I'm perfectly clean. I just took a bath an hour ago."
"No no, just don't wanna seem clingy, that's all."
Rafayel took a moment to figure out what prompted that response.
"Waaaait, you're not really mad about me calling you needy, are you? It was just a joke, Miss Bodyguuaaard..."
"Mhmm."
Rafayel sighs as he realizes you're going to prolong this cruel revenge of yours just a little further. It's good that you're not really mad, though he can't help but pout about it.
He had to walk through the beach with you so close yet so far from him, and his hands have never felt so cold and lonely.
You don't even always hold his hand, as sometimes collecting sea shells require all hands available, but now that he's aware of your punishment, he can't help but notice that he really loves holding your hand and giving you little kisses.
Without them, his day feels incomplete.
Day three.
You showed up at Rafayel's art exhibition and he's acting like you just dumped him.
"Oh, I didn't expect you to show up today, Miss Bodyguard. I thought you'd forgotten all about me."
He showed you one painting that you haven't seen finished until now.
"This is inspired by the gaping hole in my heart because my beloved has left me."
Trying not to laugh, you flicked his forehead. "Your beloved saw you this morning for breakfast and watched you get scolded by Thomas because you weren't ready for your event on time."
Rafayel huffs. "Well, I would have woken up early and would've been prepared on time if only I went to sleep early. But I couldn't sleep early because my beloved is being mean to me and won't let me kiss her."
"Weeeell, that sucks for you." you patted his shoulder. "I'm gonna go check out that lovely painting over there. See you later."
Rafayel followed you the entire time, walking so closely beside you so his hand would constantly brush against yours.
Once you reached an empty room, he stood right behind you and put a hand on the wall next to the painting that you're admiring.
His lips brushed against your ear after taking a whiff of your neck. "This perfume... it's the one that I really like..."
It was indeed the scent that makes him act like a cat that's high on catnip. You wore it on purpose, solely to get the reaction that he's giving right now.
Rafayel's lips brushed against your neck like a feather, testing the waters to see if you'd push him away.
So far, you do nothing but stare at the beautiful painting he worked months on.
His right hand landed on your stomach and gently nudged you back so that your body is right against his.
His kisses grew a little bolder, lingering on your skin a little longer.
But then, the sound of footsteps coming close forced you to spring away from him.
You held back a grin at his red face.
"This has been a wonderful exhibit, Sir Rafayel. Thank you for the tour."
"...Hmph..."
He crossed his arms and looked away, trying to calm down his racing heart.
Looks like his body craves for you more than he realized.
Day four.
"I got here as fast as I could! What's the emergency?!"
You slam the bathroom door open to find Rafayel chilling in his bathtub, naked body submerged in warm water mixed with pink foamy soap.
"...."
"Oh, good, you're finally here." Rafayel sighs with relief. "Miss bodyguard, you have to help me. I slipped from a paintbrush earlier and hurt my right arm, so I can't move it around easily because it hurts. Will you help me with my bath?"
"How did you get in the bathtub in the first place if your arm hurts so much?"
"Don't worry about it, cutie. That's in the past. I like to focus in the present."
You shook your head, though you're unable to hide a smile from his silly yet clever response.
You knelt down beside the bathtub and started petting his head. Right away, he closed his eyes and leaned in towards your touch.
You lowered your hand to his neck and brushed slowly your thumb against his skin just under his jaw, and you caught him gulping nervously.
Next, you slid your hand down to his chest, drawing random shapes between his pecs, causing his breath to stutter.
"But now that I think about it... how does one get help for taking a bath?" you asked. "What exactly do you want me to do?"
Rafayel caught your hand before you could even think about pulling away and leave him hard, just like yesterday at the exhibit.
"I just need you... to move your hand... just a little lower...."
Your face heated up at his low tone. His face had turned into a dark shade of red, flushed from the warmth you've made him feel with just a few light touches.
"You better be careful." you whispered, moving your hands down as slow as possible. "With how you sound just now, someone might think that you might be a little....needy...."
Rafayel opened his eyes but didn't move a single muscle. His hand remained on top of yours, letting you wander to wherever you want to.
"Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm the needy one." he kept his gaze fixated on you. "I need to have you close to me. I need to hold you. I need to feel you."
Your face burned.
As did the rest of your body.
At last, your hand reached where he needed you to be.
Stiff and twitching, just for you.
Your core clenched as you recall the way he feels inside you.
"If.... if I'm gonna help you take a bath, you better make some room for me."
Rafayel has never moved so quickly.
xavier
Xavier breathes heavily on his bed, face flushed and chest heaving, glistening with sweat. You're lying next to him, equally spent after getting lost in each other's bodies.
"We've been doing it so much lately, I'm starting to feel sore." he says with a chuckle, putting one hand on his neck and shoulder.
"....You're right." you softly tapped on his chest as if to give him comfort. "Don't worry, I'll let you recover. Let's not do anything for a while."
Xavier's eyes widen. "What?! That's that not what I meant — "
You let out a yawn. "I'm sleepy. Goodnight, Xavier~"
"Wait — "
"Goodnight, I said."
Day one.
You had to be joking, right?
You were probably just so tired and blurted out such a hasty statement.
You probably don't even remember what you said.
Xavier didn't forget, though. He couldn't, even if he wanted to.
When he woke up at noon, you were already at work. You made breakfast for him. If you were really upset with him, you wouldn't have cooked anything for him.
So, everything should be fine.
He arrived at work and the very first thing he did is greet you at your station. You're behind your desk, busy with a report on your computer.
"Good morning."
He leaned down to give you a hug. Although you didn't return it, you didn't deflect him.
That means you really were just bluffing. Everything is fine.
"Good morning, Xavier."
Fast forward to a couple of hours later, you two are investigating an abandoned but recently used building that's been raided by Wanderers.
There was a suspicious man on site, so you hid somewhere so that you can observe him for any possible leads.
Xavier pulled you into a room that looks to be a supplies closet, which was luckily clean enough to not contain any foul smell that would make it unbearable for you to hide in.
You stood by the door that's slightly cracked open so that you can keep an eye on the suspicious man.
Xavier stood right behind you with absolutely no space between your bodies. His left hand made its way to your waist while his lips brushes against your neck.
Before he could do anything else, you turned around and covered his mouth with one hand.
"Hmm? What are you — "
"Shhh. We need to be quiet."
Okay, so you rejected his attempt to makeout.
But that was only because you couldn't risk missing out on any leads and had to focus on the suspicious guy, right? That's all. Everything is fine.
Everything is not fine.
He caught you on a conversation with Andrew and you were touching his shoulder. Then you spoke with Simone and you were touching her arm.
But when he talked to you, you didn't touch his shoulder or anything. You didn't touch his hand and you even moved away when he tried to touch yours.
For the final check: the Pocky test.
Once you're back in his apartment after work, Xavier decided to share his last box of Pocky with you.
As you were eating one, Xavier quickly went up to you.
"Wait, let me check if yours is good."
He continued to eat the stick of Pocky until he's closer to your lips.
But then you suddenly pulled back and ate the rest.
"Wah — "
You gently patted his cheeks. "Nice try."
So, it turns out you knew what he was doing and no, you were absolutely not going to give him kisses today.
And so, sulky Xavier makes his return.
Day two.
Xavier decided to get revenge for taking away kisses and cuddles by showing you the most horrifying scary movie on both of your watch list.
You two are sitting on his giant bean-bag chair, sharing a blanket while your eyes are glued to the TV screen, unable to look away at the bloody scene of another character getting ripped apart.
Little did you know, Xavier is mentally cheering.
For every jumpscare, you scoot closer and closer to him. Around halfway of the movie, you're sitting on his lap yet you're too focused on the movie to realize it.
Xavier kept quiet and rested one hand on your thigh, while the other casually shoves popcorn in his mouth.
As the end credits started to roll, Xavier got up to refill your drinks so that you can have more for the next film, which is another horror one.
"Wait where are you going?!" you grabbed his hand before he could start walking towards the kitchen.
Xavier almost laughed at your expression. "I'm just going to get us more drinks. I won't be gone for long. Just sit here and relax."
"You're not scared even a little bit?" you murmured, tightly hugging a pillow. Right now, your brain is imagining the killer in every dark spot of the apartment.
"I'll be fine~"
Five steps forward and he suddenly turns around.
"Are you really that scared?"
He uses his evol to shine a bright light on his face while pulling a silly expression, mocking the one that the killer from the movie wore.
"Ah!"
His plan worked a little too well because now, you can't sleep alone.
"Are you really that scared?" he asked, walking up to the bed, watching you hug Bunbun with your dear life. "We fought Wanderers that are much worse. If you were in the movie, I bet you'll make a good final girl that'll outlive the killer."
He sat next to you and smiled as he put a hand on the plushie.
"Bunbun can go now. I'm taking over his job in protecting you while you sleep."
You gasped as he snatched the plushie and threw him across the room.
"Xavier!"
"Ssshh, I got you."
After turning off all the lights, he laid down next to you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him, with your back against his chest.
The second you closed your eyes, your mind starts replaying the scariest parts of the movies you just watched, causing you to shift uncomfortably.
You hear a faint gasp behind you, but you ignore it as you're trying to block off the scary images in your head.
"Ugh! It's no good! I need a distraction."
You turned around to get your phone on the nightstand, but then you come face to face with Xavier.
"A distraction?" he leans close to you so that your noses touch. "I can give you a distraction, if you want."
"....nope, I'm good." you turned back around with a huff. "Don't wanna make you sore."
Xavier laughs and nuzzles his face on your neck.
"I'll remember not to joke about something like that ever again. I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?"
"....are you also sorry for making me watch those really scary movies?"
"Well.... not really...."
They were excellent movies, after all. Aside from the scary parts, he could tell you enjoyed it overall.
"At least you're honest."
A few seconds later, Xavier starts to pepper kisses all over your neck and jaw.
"Do you still need a distraction? I can help you get your mind off of anything scary."
You let out a quiet moan as he softly pushed his hips against yours.
"Just focus on me."
From the moment he got on top of you, you forgot about everything — your silly scheme and the horror movies.
nsfw (18+). includes aphrodisiacs, dry humping, rubbing cock over panties, possessive!caleb, caleb is gentle at first until you piss him off, this is basically ‘testing caleb's patience: the fic’, unprotected sex, creampie, i have to mention that caleb is possessive twice because caleb says some freaky stuff, sappy confession during sex, happy (horny) ending <3 likes and reblogs will be very helpful !!
Caleb doesn't accept love letters and chocolates whenever Valentine's Day comes along. However, girls directly stuff them into his bag without his knowledge sometimes, and you take it upon yourself to eat the sweets because Caleb would just throw it straight to the trash otherwise.
“It's a waste,” you'd always say. “You might not like them back, but they still made the effort to make chocolate for you.”
And then Caleb would shake his head, frowning, “Though most of them mean well, sometimes they put weird stuff in the food. So if I were you, I'd spit out that cupcake, pipsqueak.”
You usually don't heed his warnings—Caleb's always been kind of an overthinker. Now, though, you regret not listening to him as an unfamiliar heat spreads across your body, your core throbbing as you feel yourself dripping in your panties.
...The panties that's rubbing against Caleb's crotch right now, soaking the fabric of his pants while you grind down on him. Caleb's expression looks like a mix of confusion, worry, and arousal, his hands hovering above your waist as if unsure where to touch you. “Nn— hey, what's gotten into you? Do you even know what you're doing right now?”
You see his Adam's apple bob up and down as he nervously swallows, and you start feeling something poking you at your clothed core. Caleb sits up on the sofa where you pushed him down a while ago, grabbing your hands on his shoulders. “C'mon, tell me. I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong.”
You whimper, your body collapsing on top of his. He quickly scoops you up, one hand holding the back of your head, the other resting on your lower back, ensuring you're properly seated on his thighs.
“I... I feel weird,” you pant, clutching the front of his shirt. “I'm dizzy, and my body is hot all over. My...” you swallow down your embarrassment, “my pussy feels empty... Caleb, can't you help me? Please?”
Almost imperceptibly, his grip on you tightens by a fraction. He sighs, angling your head to make you look at him in the eye. Perhaps it's the trick of the light, but Caleb's face is a flustered pink. “I can't do that. You're going to regret it when you turn back to normal and get all weird about it.” He glances at the chocolates you ate on the table, brows furrowed. “Aphrodisiac chocolate... I should've known. Then you wouldn't have become like this...”
Your mind is in a daze. Your body feels unusually heavy, but your head feels like it's floating. Most of what he said is lost on you, and at this moment, the only thing you can focus on is that Caleb is looking at something else. You grab both of his cheeks, forcibly turning his attention to you. “Please help me, Caleb...” Clumsily, you lift up your hips, pressing your cunt against the tent in his pants. It glistens with your wetness, and Caleb can't help but groan when you rub the tip with your thumb. “It hurts... I need this inside me...”
Caleb has always adhered to your whims, but even he has his limits. He pinches your cheek, “I can't put it inside, idiot, I don't have a condom. I just have to make you cum, right?” He gestures for you to pick up the hem of your skirt, sucking in a breath when he sees how soaked you are. “Fuck....”
The entire crotch area is damp, and if he looks carefully, he can even see the faint shape of your clit. Curiously, he draws circles on it, breathing heavily when a fresh glob of slick stains your underwear. “That's hot...”
He pulls down his zipper, releasing his cock from his boxers. You gasp softly at the sight. He's long and thick, arching to a beautiful curve, colored almost red from the strain of holding back. He gives himself a few experimental pumps, moans coming from his mouth as he masturbates at the sight of you, holding up your own skirt to give him a perfect view of your wet panties, an innocent, frilly pair he can't wait to ruin.
He positions his cock to your folds, aiming at the spot your hole should be if not covered by your underwear. You both groan at the first slide, his pre-cum further soaking the fabric of your ruined panties. He wraps himself in his fist, teasing your clit as he pumps into his hand. More pearls of white spurt out of his tip. “Ah, fuck, that's good... so good...”
“Ah, ah, Caleb!”
You move your hips, moaning while he rubs himself against your cunt. The warmth of his cock is driving you crazy, and the added friction of Caleb rubbing your nipple through your clothes makes you even wetter than you already are. He's biting his lip, dazed eyes staring at your body appreciatively. “I'm taking this off, baby.”
He impatiently runs his hand through the buttons of your clothes, some of them popping off to clatter on the floor. “H-hey, I liked this shirt— haa...!”
“I'll buy you a new one,” he grunts, mouthing at one of your tits, sucking as if anything would come out. He unclasps your bra one-handed, throwing it over your shoulder. “These things are fucking annoying...”
Finally, he gets tired of rubbing you over your clothes. He lifts the side of your panties, sliding his cock inside to directly grind against your pussy. “Shit, that's more like it,” he moans loudly, your wetness gliding down his balls. “You feel so good.”
“Caleb, put it inside already,” you whine, scrunching up the fabric of your skirt in your fists. “This isn't enough for you either, hnn, right...? Give me your cock, please...”
Caleb grits his teeth, holding your hips to stop you from dropping on his dick. “Didn't I tell you I don't have a condom?”
“I don't care!” you struggle in his hold. “Fuck me, c'mon... it hurts...! If you don't...”
You pant against his ear, knowing exactly what you're getting into, drugged or not, “...I'll ask Zayne to fuck me instead.”
The effect is instantaneous. He pulls out, replacing his cock with two fingers plunging inside you at once, hitting deep all the way inside. You choke, gasping out for breath as his hand doesn't stop, slick jetting out of your cunt with every push of his fingers. His clothes are getting soaked, but Caleb doesn't care about them at all, coldly glaring at your face twisted in pleasure.
“So you're telling me you'd be fine with just anyone?” He's chuckling, but he doesn't sound like he's happy. “Fuck. I should've just done this from the start, then.”
He grabs two of the chocolates, popping one in his mouth. When he finishes swallowing, he places the other one in his mouth again, but then he suddenly grabs your jaw. “Open your mouth, slut.”
He pulls you in for a kiss, mouths locking together. The chocolate melts from the heat, his tongue licking at yours as he's forcing you to swallow. He doesn't let you go until he's sure you've eaten all of it, drool dripping from the corner of your lips.
“We're not stopping until you learn I'm the only one who gets to see you like this,” he grunts, taking out his fingers and slathering your slick on his cock to make it wet. “I'm the only one who gets to call you mine.”
“Haa... haa...”
Clothes are strewn messily on Caleb's bedroom floor, the mattress squeaking with each thrust of his hips. You're on your back, one leg hooked over Caleb's shoulder, staring into space as you're fucked absolutely stupid.
“Fuck, I can't stop my hips....” Caleb's still fucking into you, hasn't stopped for the past hour. The effects of the aphrodisiac have probably passed after the first two rounds, but his cock shows no signs of softening after release. He cums another load into you, overflowing from your pussy to spread into his sheets. “Ah, hng, shit... Hey, I told you not to waste it.”
He pulls out, pressing his fingers inside your loose hole to fuck his cum back in. You make a sound of protest, already feeling full.
“Are you starting to regret what you said now?” He grabs the back of your thighs, pressing your legs next to your ears. “Too late for that, though.”
Caleb groans, sloshing his cum inside your cunt with his dick. You helplessly grab at the sheets, moaning brokenly. His pelvis rubs against your engorged clit on every snap of his hips, driving you to squirt on his abs again, his torso glistening with your mess.
“You're squirting again? How many times have you cum?” Caleb laughs meanly, sucking another possessive mark among the smattering of hickeys he's already left along your collarbones. “Nasty girl...”
He leans back, getting a better view of your body. There are traces of him everywhere, from the hickeys on your neck, his cum on your chest because you couldn't swallow everything he poured in your mouth, and the faint bite marks on your inner thighs when he paid the favor and ate you out.
He presses a kiss on your chest, staring at you with dark eyes. “If you didn't say that, I would've been patient with you. Fingered you loose before putting my cock inside, making sure you're comfortable... I would've helped you ride out the effects of the aphrodisiac and never speak of it again. After all, to you, I'm just family.” He nuzzles against your cheek, his voice taking on a darker tone. “But you just had to call out another guy's name, didn't you... Would've fucked him if it was him here, not me...”
Caleb thrusts back inside you roughly, fucking your cervix. “You can't do that, you know? You've always belonged to me. Every part of you is mine, so no one else can touch you.” He cups your cheek, devouring your cries of pleasure with his mouth. “Just me... it's only me, right? I'm the person most important to you, right? You said so... So why are you bringing up another guy?”
He's asking questions, but he doesn't let you answer any of them, kissing you so much you almost can't breathe.
“Even though I'm in front of you...” Kiss. “Even when I'm the only one who loves you this much...” Kiss, kiss. “You're still thinking of another person...” Kiss, kiss, kiss. “That's hardly fair when you're all I think about everyday.” Another sloppy kiss.
You weakly push his chest, breaking away from the kiss. “Wait, Caleb—”
He pins your wrist to the bed. “I'm not stopping.”
“I'm not telling you to stop, I'm telling you to liste— ahh, haa, hnn!” The cock still ramming up your walls makes it much more difficult to speak, hammering against the sweet spot that makes your toes curl. “Fuck, ah— Caleb, listen to me!”
He hums as he sucks another hickey on your skin. “I am.”
You don't have it in you to argue even when he clearly isn't, trembling at the pleasure. The hand holding your wrist travels upwards to intertwine your fingers together, grounding you back to reality.
“Caleb, I was just— I didn't mean what I said...” you stammer, trying your best to speak without getting distracted. “I, mmh....! W-wouldn't do this with anyone else... haa... I just said that so you'd fuck me— ah, ah!”
He scoffs, slowing his pace when he sees you being overwhelmed. “You're just making excuses to get me to stop.”
“I'm not, you dummy! I...” your brows pinch together, embarrassed to say it but you continue anyway, “Caleb, you're the one I think of when I touch myself... nn... And I know it's wrong, and you only think of me as someone you should take care of, but, I, haah, I like it when you kiss me, or when you hug me, and I— gh! I like it when you fuck me hard, too, just like this...”
You move your hand to cup Caleb's jaw, admiring his awestruck expression. He looks at you like he's seeing you for the first time.
“I'm not telling you to stop,” you repeat yourself firmly. “I just wanted to say I didn't mean that thing I said earlier, and if it's you, you can do whatever you want to me. Because I love you just like how you love me, Caleb.”
His hips come to a complete stop. “Say that again.”
“I love you, Caleb.”
“Again.”
“I love you.”
“Again.”
“Okay, you're really pushing it, it's embarrassing to sa— aah!”
He grabs your hip, pulling you back to his cock. He fucks you frantically, harsh groans leaving his lips, your name like a prayer. “Fuck... you love me? You love... me?” The words seem unfamiliar on his tongue, heartbreakingly quiet. You squeeze your connected hands.
“I love you, Caleb. I really, really love you, I've loved you a long time ago...” you tilt his chin, making him meet your gaze. “Now say it back.”
“I love you,” he says with certainty, as if it's a fact of the universe. “I love you so much.” He buries his head into your neck, sucking new marks. “I love you... fuck... I love you so badly, it hurts...”
His cock drives deeper, the wet slaps of skin deafening in the room. Cum dribbles out of your hole with his thrusts, and he swipes it up to smear it on your engorged clit. Rub, rub. Rub, rub.
“Shit, Caleb!” You wail, rutting to his finger. “Everything feels so good, ah, ah!”
“You feel so good, too, aw, fuuuck...” he's melting inside you, your warm walls clenching around him so tight, sucking him back in every time he pulls out. “Your pussy keeps sucking me back in...!”
“Ah, hnahh, ngh, yes, like that, ah! I'm cumming, cumming!”
His balls draw tight, his cock about to burst. “Fuck, shit!” he fucks in, in, in, until he's filled every space in your cunt, thumb frantically rubbing at your clit. Clear liquid soaks his cock, wetting his pelvis, and he follows you in your release, shooting ropes of milky cum deep inside your pussy. “Fuck, ah, take my cock, take my fucking cum all the way in, ohh— take it deep in your womb—”
He keeps cumming, and cumming, and cumming. “It won't stop,” he moans against your ear, watching your hole overflowing with his semen. “Your pussy feels too good, it's sucking me dry...”
“Caleb, shit, how are you still— ohh, fuuck...” you whine as the last spurts of semen hit your torso, Caleb having pulled out and pumping his dick to cover you in his cum.
Finally emptied, Caleb collapses on the spot beside you, running a hand through his hair. “I need a shower,” he mutters, feeling the stickiness on his body.
“We need a shower,” you correct him. “I probably won't be able to walk for the next few days, all thanks to you, so you better take responsibility and carry me everywhere.”
Caleb laughs, light and airy, nothing like the dark tone he's been speaking in earlier. He pulls you to his chest, pressing chaste kisses all over your face. “Anything for the girl I love.”
they were only a little achy. it always happened a week or two before your period. you'd only mentioned it once. he'd noticed your discomfort and asked directly, but that was all it took. every month, he'd slip his hands under your shirt and offer to help make it all better. that was what he'd always done, after all: look after you.
greed disguised and twisted up in all his signature generosity, he takes your tits in each of his large, warm hands and mutters soothing words of comfort. attentive and familiar and safe. "it's alright, gege always takes care of you when you're sick, hm?"
sometimes he liked you in his lap, sometimes he'd press you onto your back on the carpet. this time, he rolls you onto your side, lifts one of your legs over his waist, and pulls you to his mouth.
it's a depraved mess of spit and muffled groans as he licks and suckles at you. his warm tongue slips over your nipple in quick little flicks, then firmly across your whole areola in long swipes. over and over he laps at you, occasionally looking up at you through the hair that falls over his face.
he holds you against him with a hand to your back, possessive and insatiable. and when your soft skin is glistening prettily with his spit, he latches on and sucks at you like he's trying to draw milk—senses consumed with all that slick heat and the wet smacking sounds his mouth makes each time he releases and reattaches.
he soothes you with licks, gentle kisses and massaging hands between all his greedy suckling. and when you squirm, he grips your hip and guides you into an undulating roll against him, controlled enough to allow his continued ministrations. "this is gege's job," he mumbles around you, the vibrations forcing you into an arch and further into his mouth.
rafayel/caleb: you are PROTECTED and WATCHED. they get along annoyingly well and end up telling each other all their secrets, even the ones kept from you. they decide working together fully is in your best interest. feed into each other's yandere tendencies. lots of ribbons and blindfolds and manhandling when they fuck you. their shared cute aggression and inability to say no to you is your greatest weapon.
zayne/sylus: daddy duo. zayne is the strict one. you go to sylus when you want to go behind zayne's back to get your way. sometimes sylus betrays you and ties you to the bed posts and leaves you for zayne to find when he gets home. they both call you sweet girl, and when you are in public, they both have a hand on you somewhere at all times.
rafayel/zayne: work really well together when shit gets serious. teacher/student roleplay, often. they have very different worldviews and you are always trying to prompt philosophical discussions between them for your own entertainment. also work together well at night. rafayel holds you against his chest, entirely restrained, while zayne punishes you with his cock. very gentle thorough aftercare.
rafayel/sylus: they nearly kill each other a few times at the start. they are apparently accidents, but you have your doubts. especially when sylus calls raf kitten one day and gets a dagger in his shoulder as a consequence. they take you on exotic trips very often. you get fucked in each place. they keep track of these places on a map and challenge each other in various games to decide who gets to choose the next place to take you. they both love dressing you up all pretty, often in pink.
xavier/caleb: always competing for your attention. snarky. passive-aggressive jealous bickering. lock in together when you need protecting. no hand raised against you lives. every time caleb feeds you a perfectly cooked meal, xavier fucks you for desert to make sure he's keeping the balance. caleb banned him from the kitchen for your safety. xavier makes you call him gege sometimes just to piss him off.
xavier/zayne: you catch them in discussions sometimes that make your head spin. they respect each other a lot. zayne has an accident with his evol one night and needs distance from you, escaping out into the cold night. but before he can spiral into self-loathing, xavier follows him out and talks him out of it. he tells him he's the only one in the universe he trusts with your life.
rafayel/xavier: pure joy and fun with a side of murder. they don't get along at first. xavier doesn't like how involved you are with rafayel's revenge/rescue missions. but after insisting on coming along, he quickly gets on side. ends up completely dedicated to the cause, especially when he sees how it upsets you. you find them napping together sometimes, and rafayel calls xavier old and out of touch when he doesn't understand his art. you have baths together nearly every day, and at night they grab at you and tug you between them like two only children who've never had to share their favourite toy.
xavier/sylus: sylus scares children off as he stands at your side and xavier smiles from your other side and tells them he's not nearly as scary as he looks. sylus stirs up xavier's jealous tendencies on purpose just to fuck with him, and because he knows you like it. he'll sit you on his cock and ask who fills you better or challenge xavier to try and take what belongs to him. respect each other but bicker like they hate each other.
zayne/caleb: serious plotting and scheming. have the potential to take over planet earth. EVER is rubble in 4 business days. no matter how much you want to see them fight, they keep it out of your sight, even when you tease and incite jealousy as best you can. sometimes when you've been more trouble than usual, they punish you together for being a bad girl.
sylus/caleb: the most pampered spoiled princess known to mankind. wants for nothing. sleeps in between them every night and when one of them is gone the other cockwarms you to soothe you. potential for absolute evil to manifest between them as they feed into each other's all-consuming obsession and desire for you. have the potential to work together to destroy all life in the universe if it would make you just a little bit happier.
"shh, gege's here," he whispers into your neck as you stare at your shared reflection. he did this often: holding you down on his cock in front of a mirror and forcing you to look at where he disappeared inside you.
this was as close as you could be, he'd remind you. if it were possible to be any closer, he would do it. "look at gege inside you," he mutters. "don't stop looking."
he's quieter than usual; restrained. usually he'd be standing, letting your skin slap together as he fucked up into you. but this time was different.
you were trying on a few pretty things for him, frilly pyjama sets and lacy garters to match. he stood behind you in the small change room, a towering figure watching you in the mirror as you slipped each piece on and off your body carefully. you saw the change in his eyes. gentle, patient, loving appreciation slips into something more predatory and possessive.
and you know him as well as he knows you, so you're expecting what happens next. you know how to be quiet when the switch flips and he tugs you against him and tells you he needs to be closer. you suck and bite on his fingers as an aid as he fucks you, eyes re-focusing on where you join each time he notices you drifting.
"know i should wait... gege can't help it," he breathes into your ear. "this is where i belong, hm? right here, buried in your pretty flower." his fingertips ghost over your clit, then glide up to your belly. he presses his palm flat against you, firm. "feels like i should never leave."
he bites into your shoulder, and you bite down on his fingers in return. "wanna keep you strapped to my chest, warm and safe and full of me always..." he drops a kiss over his bite. "doesn't that sound nice?"
the tiniest little hum escapes your throat, muffled by his fingers. "that's why gege's so much bigger," he whispers. "that's the way it's supposed to be... meant to carry you around with my cock buried deep inside you... never apart..." his hips roll, and he presses you back into him a little harder. "want them all to see where i belong... wanna walk out and show them how perfectly we fit... look at it..."
you are looking. you can't stop. it doesn't matter. he repeats it like it's not enough, like he needs the whole world to see how connect together perfectly. "keep looking... look at you opening up for gege... so pretty... look..."
"isn't this what i deserve... what i'm owed?" he mumbles again as he presses you into the mattress, his body covering you entirely from behind—large and heavy and warm.
despite his repeated questioning, his fingers fill your mouth, preventing you from answering at all. he plays with your tongue as he grinds down against you—a rhythmic rolling of his hips to match the way he invades your mouth. in and out, but never out enough to free your voice.
"gege was so good for so long, hm?" he continues, breathy. his teeth press lightly into your shoulder, and his body drops a little more, practically crushing—so heavy that each breath you take is a conscious effort. "it's your turn now. be a good girl."
xia yizhou was much, much meaner than gege. you were used to getting away with things. you were used to being spoiled and hardly ever told no. so when the colonel walks through the door and calls your name like scolding parent at the end of their rope, you know it's colonel xia yizhou you're about to face.
"come here," he instructs, a dark shadow filling your bedroom doorway.
you grip your bedsheets in your hands, holding them up to your chest like a protective shield. "gege..."
"gege isn't here." he points to his feet. "come here."
you slip from the sheets and stand at the side of your bed, fiddling with the drawstring on your shorts, hesitating.
heavy footfalls close the distance between you, and before you can even formulate an apology, or an excuse, his large body wraps around you—hands groping and tugging at your ass without warning. "what'd i say about sending me videos like that while i'm working, hm?" he growls in your ear, jaw clenched. he tugs your shorts down and grabs at your bare cheeks in his warm hands, rough and possessive. "words."
"i forgot," you squeak.
he grabs at your flesh over and over, spreading your cheeks, forcing you to your toes as you hold him for support. gege would take your flimsy excuse. he'd roll his eyes and let you get away with it.
"don't lie to me." he reaches down to your cunt, continuing his groping exploration. "sending the colonel naughty videos of this greedy little pussy." he bites at your ear. "the colonel doesn't tolerate disobedience."
it's been a few months since caleb first kissed you. and since then, you've hardly stopped. it's all greed and exploration and release of years and years of feelings you'd buried deep. but there's another barrier you've yet to cross. months of messy desperate kisses and grinding your hips into him as you sit in his lap... it builds a new tension all over again.
"i missed you," he purrs as he wakes you with a gentle kiss. he's still in his uniform. it's been a whole week since you saw him last. "gege's here," he soothes as your bleary eyes focus. "did you miss me too?"
you nod with a hum, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him down onto you. "missed you," you mumble.
"are you cold?" he asks. "need a blanket?" his hand snakes down your waist to your thigh, his eyes following. "you're so pretty in pink," he adds with a sigh.
his hand warms your bare thigh as he drops a kiss to your forehead. "you left the blinds open, again," he scolds gently. "told you people can see in when you do that, hm?" his finger dig a little into your flesh. "what'd i say about this being for my eyes only?"
"this?" you ask, feigning confusion.
his hand moves slightly upwards, his finger grazing the edge of your shorts. "you. all of you." his finger slips under the fabric. "so pretty in pink, baby... but they're barely covering..." he trails off.
"my pussy?"
his finger twitches. then, after a breath, "mm, your pussy."
"it's just for your eyes too?"
he nods, and his hand ventures a little closer to your centre. "just like the rest of you. just for me."
"but you haven't even seen it yet."
"do i have to see it to claim it?"
"mm."
he leans closer. his warm breath tickles your cheek before he drops a gentle kiss to your lips. short and sweet and not at all matching the firm grip he has on your ass––fingers resting centimetres from your cunt.
he moves to the other end of the couch without a word, pulling his gloves off as he goes. his first touch is so light it tickles. an index finger down the centre of the pink fabric in one smooth stroke. then he reaches into his breast pocket, and when his trembling hand makes its way back to your ass, exploring your barely covered cunt, he holds his phone in his other hand, recording.
"it's okay if gege films it, hm? wanna take it with me when i leave... watch it when i miss you...
"mm... it's yours," you breathe, squirming.
his thumb slips under the little strip of fabric covering your hole, sampling a little wetness. "good girl. so good. gege will look now, okay?" it's a question, but he sounds so distracted that you're not sure he would even hear you answer if there was any time to give it. his thumb hooks into the damp fabric before he's even finished asking the question. he pulls it aside, exposing your twitchy pussy to the cool night air, and for the first time, to the man that had always owned it.
caleb checks if he'd fit inside
size difference, size kink, excessive use of gege
He was kind, and gentle, and patient. That was how you knew him. Even when tension radiated off his body after a long absence with the fleet. Even when you pestered him, pushed him, secretly hoping he might snap and finally, finally let you make it better.
It's no different now, as he sits there across from you, helping you finish a model plane you'd been working on for weeks.
You crawl across the carpet to him, frustrated with the fiddly parts. "I can't make them fit," you pout, holding out two pieces for inspection.
"Hm?" he hums, placing his own little piece of the project down beside him. "Let me see."
You watch him work on slotting the two parts together, his large, vascular hands manipulating the delicate plastic with a gentleness that reminded you of yourself––of the restraint he showed when holding you.
He was bigger, after all. So much bigger. All of him.
"There," he says, holding out the expertly joined pieces for you to take. "They fit."
"You forced them."
He looks at the pieces, then to you. "Nah, they fit perfectly. See?" He gestures for you to take them––to see for yourself.
You refuse, unmoving.
He tilts his head. "What's wrong?"
"You're stronger than me."
His lips twitch a little in one corner. "Only a little."
You shake your head, frowning.
"Alright," he says, "Much stronger. Happy?" He asks, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
"And bigger."
His eyes drop, analysing, like he hasn't noticed before. Then, a little smile. "Only a little."
You crawl a little closer. Settling on your knees in front of him. "Much bigger."
"Is that right?" he questions, amused.
"Look," you say, holding your palm up for him to meet with his own. His eyes make a slight flick away from your face to your joined hands—to the way his fingers curl over yours comfortably.
"Maybe I just have very… very, large hands," he says as his fingers make a path down your palm to wrap around your wrist. His eyes flick across your face. Then, "Should we check the rest of me, too? Check how much bigger I am?"
He was teasing. Playing. Testing. You could turn around and return to your model, and he'd continue on just as he had before: a calm, warm presence.
Instead, you untuck your legs from beneath you, and keeping your eyes on his, you lower yourself onto your back––hair splayed out across the carpet. He’s pulled a little towards you as he refuses to release your wrist, angling down over you.
A pause.
"Alright," he says finally, much like he had when you'd passed him your two difficult plane parts. "Let gege see."
He lifts himself to his knees and shuffles even closer. Then he lifts your legs and arranges them around his waist and hips, slotting himself up against you.
"Hm," he hums, looming over you, blocking out the sun through the window behind him. "You do look very small like this." His hand snakes up your thigh. A smile pulls at his lips. "You'll stay still for me while I check, won't you? You can be good for gege and stay nice and still.”
Despite your nod––a silent promise to obey, to be good––he keeps his grip on your ankle as he works to undo the button at his waistband. Control. You didn’t mind it at all. Control was safe.
And when he shoves his pants down just below his ass, he closes the gap between you again, pressing himself between your thighs.
His movements are slow, precise, like they’d been as he manipulated the tiny little plastic pieces. A hand snaking its way up your calf. His warm palm wrapping around your thigh as his heavy cock, confined in dark briefs, rests against your white cotton underwear.
“See?” you squeak as he rocks his hips once against you. “All of you is bigger. We wouldn’t fit.”
“Wouldn’t fit?” he questions, mocking.
Then, without warning, he hooks his thumb into the waistband of his briefs and tugs them down to free himself. Hard, and a little pink at the tip, it adds to his looming presence over you.
Using one hand to hold your hips slightly off the ground, up against him nice and close, he uses the other to press his cock down against your belly.
His head tilts a little.
“I could make it fit,” he announces, sounding a little distracted, eyes fixed where he measures himself against you. “Would stretch your pretty little hole open,” he says. “Might hurt a little… But you could bite my hand, yeah? You can take it out on gege.”
You shift a little, starting to squirm.
“Might just take the tip…” he continues as his hand works a little over himself. “But if you were really good for me… so, so good… you could hold on to me tight and let me sink all the way inside… would fill your belly up nice and deep… but we’d fit. Gege promises.”
rating: explicit/nsfw
category: f/m, caleb/reader, reader-insert
tags: childhood friends to lovers, pseudocest, mutual pining, domesticity, playfight, sexual tension, homecoming, suppressed!caleb, yearning!caleb, submissive top!caleb, insecure!caleb, forced proximity, forbidden/risky, “be quiet, granny will hear us”, making out, dryhumping, p in v, mirror sex, backshots, leg hooking, aftercare, i think that's it?
wordcount: 15.9k
PREVIEW : “wait, what the hell?!” you gasped, your hands flying up in a knee-jerk reaction to push him back, but caleb's hands immediately shot forward to pin you back down against the couch. “see?” caleb murmured, leaning down closer, his hot breath fanning across your cheeks, smelling faintly of the mint gum he'd been chewing. “you couldn't even move before i did this. you can't even defend yourself, you silly girl. that means you still need me to protect you.”
SYNOPSIS : what was supposed to be a casual homecoming quickly devolves into a suffocating game of unspoken jealousy and long-awaited confessions where every shared glance and tight space threatens to collapse the boundaries of your childhood friendship. trapped between the ticking clock of his limited sixty-day leave and the terrifyingly possessive reality of how much he’s missed you, will the tension eventually snap?
caleb is coming back this summer.
the heat of early june in the province always carried a specific kind of weight, heavy with the scent of sun-baked asphalt, dry grass, and the faint rot of fallen mangoes in the backyard. it was summer, finally! the kind of summer that felt less like a break and more like a threshold. you had just wrapped up your sophomore year at the state university down the road, a year spent navigating crowded lecture halls, cheap iced coffees, and a revolving door of new faces that you tried very hard to care about.
for the first time in your life ever since, you and caleb hadn't shared a daily routine.
after eighteen years of being so aggressively attached at the hip that your shadows practically bled together, the last four years had seen you both drifted into your own separate worlds. it was a strange, quiet realization: you both had lives of your own now.
caleb had packed his bags for that prestigious aerospace academy up north, his childhood fascination with the sky hardening into a fierce passion for flying. you, on the other hand, had stayed behind anchored to the familiar soil of your hometown just to float between random orgs, shifting friend groups, and the vague pursuit of figuring out who you were when you weren't “caleb and his girl.”
and today, he was coming home....
the question had been humming under your skin all morning, rhythmic and annoying like a cicada’s buzz. did caleb change? would he look different? act different?
the last time you saw him in the flesh, right before his departure, he had already begun to outgrow the lanky, boyish frame you could map with your eyes closed. his shoulders had broadened, his jawline cutting a sharper silhouette against the terminal lights. he had looked less like the boy who used to help you steal guavas from the neighbor's tree and more like a stranger you'd cross the street to look twice at.
”make sure you tell him to eat properly while he's here,” granny had mumbled earlier this morning, her voice thick with sleep as she shuffled around the kitchen, adjusting the mesh food cover over a plate of fried rice. “that boy always forgets to look after himself when he's excited.”
you had laughed, buzzing with a restless, frantic energy, nodding quickly as you practically flew out the screen door. you didn't even bother putting on real shoes—just slipped your feet into a pair of worn-out rubber slippers, the soles thin enough that you could feel the morning grit of the driveway beneath your arches.
gideon’s car was already idling by the gate, the exhaust coughing a pale plume of smoke into the crisp morning air. gideon, caleb's friend and the closest thing you both had to another brother, had come back from the city a few days earlier because of some vague corporate endeavor he refused to elaborate on. his early return was a stroke of luck; it meant you didn't have to brave the crowded public transportation to get to the drop-off terminal.
“look who finally crawled out of bed,” gideon teased as you yanked the backdoor open and threw yourself into the backseat. the leather was cool against the backs of your thighs, a sharp contrast to the mounting humidity outside.
“i've been up since five, actually,” you shot back, leaning forward so your chin was practically resting on the gap between the two front seats. “go, go, go. we're going to be late, gideon!”
“we have forty minutes, calm down,” gideon chuckled, throwing the car into reverse with practiced ease. his hand spun the steering wheel effortlessly as he backed out onto the main road.
the moment the car straightened out, you immediately started. you couldn't help it. the questions poured out of you in a breathless stream, all of them centered around the one person who hadn't been here. because gideon and caleb were in the same university for college, gideon was your only real window into caleb’s new life.
“is he still doing those crazy flight simulator hours? did he actually pass his survival training or did he cry? does he still sleep with three pillows? is he... does he look different, gideon? like, really different?”
gideon navigated the familiar potholes of the provincial highway, answering each query with a patient nod of his head. he was used to this. he had been the buffer between you and caleb ever since.
“he's fine. still a nerd about planes,” gideon said, glancing at you through the rearview mirror with a knowing smirk. “he passed the survival drills with top marks, obviously. you know how he is. he doesn't cry over dirt. and yeah, he's bigger. the academy makes them do a lot of physical training. he looks like a proper pilot now.”
you listened to every word, your head tilting slightly, your eyes fixed on the back of gideon's head. you were listening so attentively it almost hurt, your ears straining for something specific. a name, maybe. a habit. a detail that sounded wrong, or a hint of a girl, or a sign that he had completely outgrown the small-town girl who used to share his umbrella. you were waiting for a phrase that would confirm your deepest, unvoiced fear: that he had left you behind in the dust of the province.
but that piece of information didn't arrive. gideon just kept talking about credit hours, physical exams, and flight logistics.
“anyway,” gideon clears his throat, switching gears as he turned onto the long stretch of road leading to the junction. “enough about the golden boy. how's state uni treating you? your granny said you joined some theater production crew last month. you making friends?”
the spark in your chest caught a sudden, damp chill. your posture slumped just a fraction, the manic energy leaving your shoulders as quickly as it had arrived. the topic was no longer caleb.
“oh. yeah. it's fine,” you murmured, your voice dropping an octave. “the theater stuff was just for a midterm project. it's over now. and friends... yeah, they're okay. we go to the diner near the campus sometimes.” it sounded dull. it sounded incredibly small compared to aerospace academies and survival training and flying through clouds.
sensing your sudden shift in mood but choosing not to press it, gideon just hummed, turning up the radio slightly.
you leaned back against the seat, suddenly feeling the distance between your body and the front of the car. with a slow movement, you pressed the button on the door panel, letting the window roll down all the way.
you were going to see him in less than fifteen minutes. and for the first time in your life, you were terrified of what his smile might look like now.
with a restless groan, you shifted your weight, sliding down the leather until you were lying flat across the length of the backseat. you lifted your legs, balancing your heels against the rim of the lowered window frame, letting the rushing wind blow right over your bare toes. the bright summer sunlight hit your face in a sudden wash, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut as the shadows of roadside acacia trees flickered across your eyelids like a film strip.
gideon glanced back through the rearview mirror, his eyes crinkling at the corners as a quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest. “what exactly is the strategy here? are we airing out your feet, or are you trying to slide out of the car entirely?”
“shh,” you muttered, not opening your eyes, just waving a hand dismissively in his general direction. “don't ruin the vibe, gideon. i'm getting into character. when we get there, i'm going to pretend to be asleep.”
“and why, pray tell, are we faking a coma?”
“because,” you mumbled, your voice dropping into a stubborn drone. “he's been gone for four years acting all professional and pilot-like. i'm not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me standing at the curb like an eager puppy. if i'm asleep, he has to wait for me to wake up.”
gideon let out an amused snort but didn't argue further, slowing the vehicle down as he navigated the chaotic entrance of the terminal. the air became a noisy symphony of sputtering engines, the loud barking of barkers calling out destinations, and the heavy hiss of bus brakes.
then, the car came to a full stop. the engine remained idling, its low vibration humming right through your spine as you lay flat on the seat.
you heard the tinny ring of gideon’s phone bridging the gap over the dashboard, followed by the click of the answer button. gideon didn't even put it to his ear; he just left it on speaker, the sound cutting through the air-conditioned cabin.
“yeah? where are you? i'm near the main exit, by the yellow bakery,”
”oop, i see the car,” a voice replied.
that was caleb!
your breath hitched, catching sharply in your throat. it was him. it was caleb. even through the cheap, compressed audio of a phone speaker, there was no mistaking that specific cadence—that easy, slightly raspy, slow-rolling tone that always sounded like he was hiding a joke behind his teeth. it was exactly the same.
“alright, hurry up. the traffic enforcer is already looking at me sideways,” gideon said, hanging up.
panic, sudden and entirely irrational, flared up under your ribs. you scrambled to pull your legs down from the window, tucking your knees slightly toward your chest, and threw your right arm over your eyes, effectively blocking out the blinding glare of the sun and the view of the front seats. you squeezed your eyelids shut until you saw spots, forcing your breathing to slow down.
just act natural. you're asleep. you've been sleeping the whole ride.
the crunch of boots on gravel outside the car door was your only warning. and then, the front passenger door clicked and swung open. “hey!”
your heart nearly leaped right out of your chest. the sheer force of it hammered against your ribs so violently you were terrified he would actually hear it over the sound of everything else. you closed your eyes even tighter, your arm pressing down hard against your brow line.
“man, you look like you survived a war,” gideon’s voice boomed, followed by the rustle of clothing as the two of them exchanged a brief half-hug across the console.
“more like two years of institutionalized sleep deprivation,” caleb replied, his voice much louder now, much closer, vibrating from the seat right in front of your head. the car door slammed shut with a heavy thud, sealing the three of you inside the quiet space.
there was a brief rustle of a duffel bag being shoved into the footwell, and then a sudden pause. you could feel the exact moment his attention shifted.
”is... she dead?” caleb asked, his tone dropping into that familiar, amused lilt.
“passed out about ten minutes ago,” gideon lied without a single hitch in his voice. god, you owed him a premium coffee for this. “she was buzzing around the house since five in the morning, then collapsed the second we hit the highway.”
a loaded silence descended upon the car as gideon shifted into drive and pulled away from the curb. you lay frozen, every muscle in your body stiff with the effort of remaining limp. you could feel caleb’s weight shifting in the front seat, the leather creaking slightly as he turned his upper body around to look back at you.
even with your arm covering your face, you could feel the weight of his stare burning through the fabric of your sleeve.
then, a low huff of a laugh escaped him.
“silly girl,” caleb murmured, the word dripping with an irritatingly affectionate playfulness. “still a sleepyhead. some things really don't change, do they?”
gideon steered the car back onto the main road, the smooth roll of the tires replacing the chaotic noise of the terminal. “i don't know about that. she’s grown up quite a bit while you were gone, caleb. she’s not the little girl who used to cry when you stole her slippers anymore. she's at state uni now. got her own thing going on.”
there was another pause, a tiny stretch of time where the only sound was the hum of the engine.
“yeah,” caleb said, his voice shifting into a tone that was harder to read, more contemplative. “i can see that. she looks different.”
“don't let the height fool you, though,” gideon chuckled, glancing at the rearview mirror. “she’s still a menace. but yeah, you probably can't carry her around with one arm like you used to.”
“please, i can absolutely still carry her with one arm.” a fleshy slap echoed through the front seat—the sound of caleb smacking his own bicep or forearm or whatever to prove a point. “these muscles aren't just for show, gid. i could lift her and her bags without breaking a sweat.”
god, the urge to open your eyes was so overwhelming it was almost a physical ache in your chest. you wanted to throw your arm off your face, look at him, and tell him to shut his stupid mouth just like old times. you wanted to see exactly how broad his shoulders had gotten, wanted to see if his hair was still cut short and neat, wanted to see if that annoying, arrogant little smirk was plastered across his face. but the weight of your own realization—the sudden consciousness of him not just as caleb, but as a man who could effortlessly lift you—kept you completely pinned to the leather.
“whatever you say, pilot boy.” gideon laughed, shaking his head as he accelerated down the open road.
the comfortable rhythm of their conversation was broken by the sharp click of gideon’s turn signal. the car slowed down, veering off the main highway and pulling up.
“alright, cay, this is me,” gideon unbuckles his seatbelt with a crisp click. “i need to drop by this studio for that project archive i told you about. you take the wheel from here. just park the car back at granny's house when you guys get back.”
“yeah, sure. no problem,”
wait, what?
gideon was leaving?
panic flared up again as you stayed perfectly still, listening intently to the rustle of clothes, the sound of gideon opening the passenger door, and the heavy thud of his boots hitting the gravel outside. there was a brief exchange of instructions—gideon reminding caleb about a loose wire near the stereo dashboard—and then the driver’s side door opened. the car dipped slightly under a new weight as caleb slid effortlessly into the driver's seat.
the door slammed shut. the heavy, reassuring presence of gideon was gone, replaced entirely by caleb’s proximity.
he adjusted the seat, sliding it back a few inches to accommodate his longer legs. then, the car smoothly pulled back onto the road. and god, the silence that followed was deafening. without gideon’s easygoing banter filling the cabin, the only sound was the low hum of the engine and the rush of the wind through your open window.
should you open your eyes now? if you wake up now, it'll look natural. just a casual yawn, and—
a subtle tug pulled at the crown of your head.
it wasn't painful. it was incredibly light. you felt a hand reaching over the center console, two fingers winding carefully around a single stray strand of your hair, giving it a teasing little pull.
your eyes flew open.
through the gap between the front seats, you finally saw him—caleb driving effortlessly with his right hand on the steering wheel, his left hand extended backward over the armrest with his thumb and index finger still lightly holding the end of your hair. he didn't even look back at you; his eyes remained fixed on the road ahead.
but his eyes flicked upward, locking onto yours through the rearview mirror.
the corners of his eyes crinkled instantly, breaking into that utterly familiar expression. that lazy, arrogant, beautiful smile spread across his lips.
“got a good sleep, pips? your gege's back now.”
the nickname—the one he used to demand you call him when you were kids just to annoy you—should have earned him an immediate eye-roll or a sharp kick to the back of his seat. but you couldn't even bring yourself to reply. your tongue felt thick, glued to the roof of your mouth.
you just stared, agape, taking him in for the first time in four whole years.
he looked like a man.
caleb's eyes flicked up to the mirror again, catching the exact moment your gaze drifted from his face down to his shoulders, and then back up. your wide-eyed, breathless silence was loud. too loud.
for a split second, the easy smirk on caleb’s face faltered. his prominent adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, a sudden patch of color rising along his neck. he cleared his throat, a slightly tense sound, and quickly looked back at the road, his fingers letting go of your hair as he pulled his hand back to the steering wheel.
“what's with the face?” he asked, trying hard to force that casual lilt back into his tone. “you look like you've seen a ghost.”
you quickly sat up, pulling your legs inward and smoothing down your shirt, desperately trying to find your footing. “you look different, that's all. the academy must be starving you if you've gone all that just to survive.”
“starving? please. they feed us like racehorses,” caleb scoffed, though the response felt a little rehearsed, a little too quick as he kept his eyes glued strictly on the asphalt ahead. “but thanks for noticing. glad to know my hard work isn't lost on a provincial girl like you.”
you leaned your cheek against your hand, looking out the side window to hide the heat rushing into your own face.
somehow, the conversation didn't go the way you had scripted it in your head over the last four years. you hadn't greeted each other like two people who had spent their entire lives attached at the hip, starved for each other's presence. there were no desperate questions, no breathy laughter, no clumsy, overwhelming hugs that left you smelling like his cologne.
instead, you were simply staring out the side window, watching the green expanse of the provincial rice fields blur into a smear of dusty emerald, and then he was simply driving.
“so, state u,” caleb started, “gran says you're keeping busy. how's the actual college life treating you?”
“it's fine,” you replied, your voice matching his even tone. you kept your eyes fixed on a passing billboard outside. “it's a lot of reading, but my blockmates are nice. i usually hang out with maya and javi after our afternoon lectures. we found this cheap diner near the campus that serves really good sizzling meat.”
“maya and javi,” caleb repeated, testing the names on his tongue as if trying to fit them into the map of your life. he nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the road. “that's good. it's good that you found your crowd.”
“mm. javi's in the theater crew too, so we usually walk home together when rehearsals run late.” you added, offering the detail up like a shield.
why did it end up like this? why did the air between you feel so thick, so cautious, as if a single wrong word would shatter a boundary neither of you had openly acknowledged yet?
“what about you?” you asked, trying to sound completely nonchalant, keeping your gaze trained on the side mirror. “must be nice up at the academy. you probably have a whole new circle of pilot friends.”
“yeah. the guys in my barracks are solid. we complain about the flight instructors together. it keeps us sane.”
and then, that's where it happened.
“any... girls?” the word slipped out of your mouth a little too smoothly, a little too practiced. “i mean, the uniform probably does half the work for you up there.”
the car went starkly silent.
caleb didn't answer right away. he shifted his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening just a fraction before he relaxed them. it took a long drawn-out pause for him to reply.
finally, a gentle smile spread across his face—but it wasn't his usual mischievous smirk.
“yeah,” caleb said quietly, his eyes softening as he looked out at the highway ahead. “actually, there is. i've got a pretty massive crush on someone from the nursing college nearby. i'm planning on courting her this coming semester.”
oh. okay.
you didn't say anything for a moment, letting the sound of his confession hang in the air between you like heavy smoke.
”that's nice. good luck with that.”
wanting nothing more than to disappear into the upholstery, you leaned further back against the leather of the seat. and you lifted your legs again, resting your ankles on the open window frame just like you had earlier. you stared straight into the blinding, white-hot summer sunlight, letting the glare sting your eyes until they watered, using the heat as an excuse for the burning sensation behind your eyelids.
college really is horrible. it really does change everything and everyone, doesn't it? it takes the boy who used to swear he'd never care about anyone more than you, sends him away for four years, and brings back a stranger who belongs to someone else.
you watched the provincial scenery go into a blurring motion as caleb pressed down on the accelerator, speed being his only response to the quiet.
suddenly, caleb cleared his throat, a nervous cough breaking the quiet. “what about you, pips? you mentioned that javi guy. do you... have a boyfriend now?”
you blinked, your eyes still stinging from the sunlight. you didn't even have to think about it. “no.”
within minutes, caleb steered the car smoothly up the gravel driveway of granny's home, pulling up right under the shade of the large mango tree. the engine died with a final, shuddering purr, leaving only the loud clicking of the cicadas in the backyard to fill the space.
you kept your ankles resting on the window frame, your eyes closed against the light.
then, you heard the rustle of caleb's heavy duffel bag being pulled from the footwell, and the solid thud of his boots hitting the gravel. but instead of walking straight to the house, the sound of his footsteps looped around to your side of the car.
a shadow suddenly fell over your face, blocking out the harsh heat of the sun.
you opened your eyes a fraction, only to see that caleb was leaning his arms against the window frame, his broad shoulders completely framing the opening. he looked down at you, a golden-boy smile playing on his lips.
“we're here, sleepyhead,” his voice still carried that warmth that used to make you feel so safe, but now it just felt like salt on an open wound. “aren't you coming out? granny’s probably already waiting at the door.”
you quickly averted your gaze, looking past his shoulder at the porch of the house, avoiding his eyes entirely.
“you go ahead.”
—
the heavy heat of mid-afternoon had dissolved by the time your eyes fluttered open, replaced by the long-shadowed stillness of late gold.
you groaned, a sharp ache radiating through your lower back and neck from the impossibly cramped angle you’d been knotted into across the backseat. four hours. you had actually managed to pass out for four hours in the belly of a dead car.
you pushed the heavy car door open, your thin slippers slapping against the gravel as you stepped out into the humid yard. stretching your arms over your head until your joints popped, you shook out your numb legs, half-hopping, half-limping your way up the porch steps and pulling the screen door open with a lazy rattle.
the house was strangely quiet.
“granny?” you called out, your voice still thick and raspy from sleep. no answer. you tilted your head, wandering past the dark living room where the old wooden rocking chair sat still, and followed a faint metallic clinking toward the kitchen.
when you stepped over the threshold, the words caught squarely in your throat.
caleb, completely shirtless, bent over the kitchen sink with his back turned to you. a chaotic battlefield of rusty wrenches, tattered rags, and rolls of teflon tape were scattered all over the tiled countertop beside him. he was clearly deep-cleaning the drain and trying to muscle a stubborn leaking pipe back into place, his skin slick with a thin sheen of sweat that caught the amber sunset filtering through the small window.
from this angle, the reality of how much he had changed hit you like a physical blow. but it was when he leaned further down into the cabinet under the sink that your eyes inevitably landed on the silver chain hanging from his neck, the metal dogtag swinging loosely against his collarbone.
you swallowed hard, forcing your gaze upward, and cleared your throat loudly to break the spell. “where's granny?”
the sudden interruption made caleb flinch violently, his entire torso jerking upward in surprise as the back of his head collided with the edge of the upper cabinet.
“ouch!”
”clumsy idiot.” you muttered.
caleb slowly turned around, still wincing, and looked up at you from his crouched position. you caught the distinct, deliberate way his gaze traveled down your frame—taking in your post-nap hair, your dumb shirt, and your bare legs—before flicking back up to settle on your face. the intensity of it lasted only a fraction of a second before his easy golden-boy mask slid right back into place.
“granny went down the road,” he casually leaned his hip against the counter, completely unbothered by his lack of a shirt. “visited mrs. alvarez or someone. said she’d be back before dinner.”
trying to appear completely casual, you walked past him, keeping a careful radius of distance between your shoulder and his bare chest, and opened the refrigerator door. the cool air hit your face as you grabbed the heavy glass pitcher of water.
“look who finally decided to join the land of the living,” caleb watched you pull a glass from the cupboard. “four hours, pipsqueak? i was about to check if you still had a pulse. you sleep like a log.”
you poured the water, keeping your back to him as you scoffed. “i had to make up for the four years of peace and quiet i'm about to lose now that you're back to annoy me.”
behind you, caleb let out a bright, boyish laugh—the kind of chesty sound that filled the entire room and made him look exactly like the sixteen-year-old boy you grew up with.
“yeah, yeah, keep talking...” chuckling, he wipes his sweaty brow with the back of his forearm. he leaned closer to the table, his eyes shining with a sudden eager spark. “hey, are you free tomorrow? they opened that new amusement park by the bypass road while i was gone. i was thinking we could go. just the two of us, like old times.”
you raised the glass to your lips, using the movement to buy yourself time as his words settled heavily in your stomach. like old times. but it wouldn't be like old times. not with him looking like this, and certainly not with a nursing student waiting for him up north.
you set the glass down on the counter with a soft click, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before looking at him. “can't tomorrow. i already have somewhere to go with a friend.”
“a friend?” his brow furrowed, a deep line cutting between his eyes as he stared at you. “since when did you choose a friend over me?”
the confusion on his face was almost comical, because it was a look you knew intimately—the look caleb gave whenever the universe didn't bend to his precise specifications. it was intensely ironic, a hypocritical double standard that made you want to scream. he could go off to the city, rebuild his entire life, and find a nursing student to court, but the second you had a life outside of this gravel driveway, the rules suddenly changed?
“just a friend from state u.” you said airily, turning on your heel and walking out of the kitchen. “you're not the only one who got a change of scenery, caleb. i’m all grown up now. i actually have a life and people outside of this house.”
you hear the heavy, silent thud of his bare feet following you, the sheer mass of him trailing you into the small living room like a shadow you couldn't shake. you threw yourself onto the worn-out fabric of the sofa, grabbing the dusty remote control to click the television on.
instead of sitting down on the opposite armchair, caleb came to a halt right at the edge of the sofa, looming over you. he crossed his arms over his bare chest, his shadow completely blocking out the remaining amber light of the sunlight.
“i'm serious,” he muttered, carrying that infuriatingly paternal tone he used whenever he wanted to control a situation. “don't go hanging out with people alone just that easily. you're too trusting. the city might be a mess, but the town isn't exactly a sanctuary either. shit is unpredictable, and people have motives.”
you let out an incredulous laugh, snapping your head up to look at him.
“you should know that if you’re a grown up as you claim to be.“ caleb added.
you raised a single eyebrow, your lips curling into a mocking smile. “what are you implying, then? that you still need to protect me? that i can't handle a simple afternoon coffee without my big, strong gege holding my hand?”
caleb’s eyes narrowed, a dark glint flickering in his irises. “should i not? just because we were apart for a couple of years doesn't mean you get to be careless. you've always been too stubborn for your own good.”
“yeah, well, you should not.” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you turned your attention back to the television screen, where a loud game show was playing to an empty audience. “i'm [age] years old, caleb. i am quite literally not a kid anymore. so stop acting like a hypocrite when you're the one who—”
“let’s test that theory.”
before the breath could even leave your lungs, the cushion beside you sank violently. caleb lunged forward with a terrifying fluidity that you had never seen from him before. your brain didn't even have time to process the movement before the heavy, solid weight of his knees dug brutally into the foam of the sofa, effectively pinning the fabric down on either side of your hips.
in a fraction of a second, you were completely trapped. he had closed the distance so aggressively that you were locked between his thighs, his massive shirtless chest looming inches from your face.
“wait—what the hell!” you gasped, your hands flying up in a knee-jerk reaction to push him back, but caleb's hands shot forward, his fingers wrapping around your wrists with an unyielding grip. he didn't squeeze enough to hurt, but the absolute finality of his hold made it clear you weren't going anywhere. a slow incredibly wicked smirk spread across his lips then.
“see?” caleb murmured, leaning down just an inch closer, his hot breath fanning across your cheeks, smelling faintly of the mint gum he'd been chewing. “you couldn't even move before i did this. you can't even defend yourself, you silly girl. that means you still need me to protect you.”
up close, the heat radiating off his bare skin was intoxicating, a musky warmth that seemed to fill your entire throat. you could see the tiny pulse point fluttering at the base of his neck, right above where his silver dogtags hung, dangling loosely and brushing against your collarbone.
“you're a cheater,” you hissed. “this is a cheap shot!”
“it's a reality check,” his grip on your wrists tightened just a fraction, a wordless challenge. “tell you what. if you manage to dislodge me—if you can actually get out from under me right now—then i'll let myself believe that you aren't a kid anymore. i'll let you go on your little date tomorrow without a single word.”
“it's not a date!” you yelled, the denial tearing out of you with a sudden heat. alright, if a game of strength was what he wanted to play to prove his stupid, masculine dominance, you were going to give it to him. you knew caleb. you knew how he moved, or at least, you thought you did.
”and fine. if that's what you want, you're going to get it.”
with a swift movement, you bucked your hips upward, twisting your wrists sharply against the grain of his thumbs—a self-defense trick he had ironically taught you himself when you were fifteen. the sudden, biting leverage worked; caleb's grip slipped, his hands sliding off your skin with a faint gasp of surprise.
“ha!” you celebrated, a triumphant grin breaking across your face as you immediately reached up, your palms slamming against his broad bare shoulders to shove him off the couch.
but you had vastly underestimated your gege.
before your arms could fully extend to deliver the push, caleb utilized your own momentum against you. leaning his entire weight forward, his chest slammed into yours, knocking the wind right out of your lungs as he drove your back deep into the cushions. in the same breath, his hands caught your forearms mid-air, pinning them flat against the back of the sofa.
a loud, frustrated groan escaped your throat as your knuckles hit the fabric.
“you're cheating!” you wheezed, your legs twisting beneath his thighs, trying to find some purchase, some leverage to kick him off, but his lower body was like an anchor. “caleb, let go! in a game like this, you obviously have the advantage, you giant idiot!”
“i told you,” caleb chuckled, his chest vibrating directly against yours. the sensation of his hard pectoral muscles pressing into your softness was a sudden jolt that made your entire body go completely rigid. “those flight drills aren't just for show. you're slow, pips. you're losing your touch.”
“i am not slow!” you argued as you thrashed beneath him. you tried to wrench your left arm free, but caleb simply slid his fingers down to lace tightly through yours, pinning your hand flat against the sofa pillow.
every time you writhed to escape him, your bodies rubbed together in a way that made your skin feel like it was on fire. the friction of his denim jeans against your bare legs, the heavy slide of his chest against yours, the tight, hot grip of his fingers tangled in yours—it was completely overwhelming. caleb had stopped laughing. his breath was coming in shorter, heavier gasps now, his chest rising and falling in a ragged rhythm that mirrored your own frantic respiration.
“let... me... go,” you panted, but he stayed hovering over you, his broad shoulders completely blocking out the rest of the living room, effectively reducing your entire universe to just him. his gaze dragged slowly down from your eyes, lingering on your parted lips, before rising back up to look into your pupils with a hunger that had absolutely nothing to do with a childhood bond.
“make me.”
his hips shifted just a fraction, a subtle pressure against yours that made your heart completely halt in your chest. “tell me you don't need me anymore. say it like you mean it, and maybe i'll think about letting you up.”
if you couldn't get him off of you with pure physical force, then you might as well use your words. you needed a distraction, something so inherently mundane and unsexy.
you swallowed hard.
“caleb,” you muttered, your voice hesitant. “i... i need to pee.”
caleb blinked.
for a second, he just stared at you, his chest still rising and falling raggedly against yours. then, slowly, he began to relax the iron grip on your wrists, gently pushing his torso back to give you some breathing room.
is it working? a tiny sigh of relief bubbled in your chest. that worked, didn't it?
“hold it in.”
your eyes widened instantly. the sigh of relief died in your throat. what the fuck?!
you gasped inaudibly, your body going completely rigid all over again. instead of getting off the couch like a normal person, caleb simply shifted his weight above you. he let go of your hands entirely, but he just slid his knees slightly to the side, repositioning himself so he was hovering over you at a slight angle.
”do you remember when we were younger? whenever you felt like peeing, what did i make you do?”
your face burned a furious, hot crimson. you knew exactly what he was talking about. back when you were a pre-teen, you had a lot of difficulty with that—a stubborn, painful urinary retention issue that made you miserable during long car rides or summer afternoons. caleb, being the overprotective problem-solving idiot he was, had researched it in some random medical forum and forced a habit on you: he made you press firmly on your lower abdomen, right above the bladder, hold it tightly for ten seconds to stimulate the muscles, and then rush to the bathroom to let it out. it always worked.
but that was when you were kids.
doing that right now, with a shirtless muscular caleb hovering right between your thighs, felt entirely indecent. the innocent childhood routine had suddenly been warped into something thick with a strange intimacy...
“what the fuck?” you cussed under your breath, your voice shaking as you glared at him. “let me up, caleb. i'm serious.”
caleb didn't react to the swearing. his expression remained entirely unbothered, his jaw ticking slightly as he stared down at your flushed face. he was completely serious.
“hold it in,” he repeated. “then press on it with your hand for ten seconds.” he paused, his eyes narrowing as he scanned your face. “unless... you don't have difficulty with it anymore? you can just do it without the routine now?”
to be honest, you still had that exact same problem. the childhood difficulty hadn't magically disappeared, and the trick caleb had drilled into you was a literal physical habit you had been doing ever since. it was a secret piece of your daily life that still belonged to him, even after four years apart.
but you couldn't bring yourself to speak. you remained completely speechless, your lips parted.
caleb studied your silence for a beat longer, the corner of his mouth twitching with a shadow of that knowing smirk.
“nevermind.”
he suddenly slid his legs off the sofa and stood back up to his full height. the sudden rush of cool air where his body had just been made you feel instantly cold, exposed. caleb reached down, casually ruffling your messy hair with a quick hand, before turning on his heel.
“i should go back to fixing the sink back there before granny gets home,” he walked beyond the living room threshold, his bare feet padding softly against the wood. “go pee, pips,” he called out over his shoulder before his voice faded into the kitchen.
now you were left lying there on the cushions, entirely silent.
—
the next morning brought no relief from the heat; if anything, the humidity had thickened overnight, settling over the house like a damp woolen blanket by eight o’clock. you woke up with your skin already tacky, your hair plastered to the nape of your neck, and your mind instantly pivoting to the afternoon ahead. today was the day you were supposed to meet your friend from state u at the town plaza, and the mere thought of sitting in a crowded bus while looking unwashed was enough to make you drag your feet out of bed with a sense of urgency.
grabbing your clean clothes and a towel, you padded barefoot into the indoor bathroom, ready to submerge yourself in the shock of cold water. you twisted the plastic knob of the shower faucet.
nothing.
not even a rusty trickle.
you frowned, turning it all the way until the plastic creaked, but the pipes only answered with a mocking hiss.
ugh, caleb.
he had been elbow-deep in the plumbing just yesterday evening, claiming he was deep-cleaning and repairing the lines, and now the entire bathroom was bone-dry. he had probably shut off the main valve or misaligned the pressure tubes with his supposed logistical training.
with a frustrated huff, you realized your choices were entirely limited. you couldn't wait for granny to get back from the market to fix it, and you certainly weren't going to knock on caleb’s bedroom door to ask him for a favor after the suffocating display on the living room sofa.
there was only one alternative.
you shed your clothes and reached for a thin cotton sarong with a batik pattern that had grown incredibly soft from years of granny running it through the wash. you wrapped the fabric tight around your chest, tucking the edge securely over your breasts, and gathered your shampoo, soap, and a plastic basin.
if the modern plumbing was compromised, you’d have to do it the old-fashioned way.
the backyard was a secluded narrow strip of land shielded from the neighbors by a dense, unruly wall of trees and overgrown leaves. tucked into the furthest corner, sitting on a moss-slick concrete slab, was the old manual pump-well. the heavy iron looked ancient, its dark blue paint peeling away to reveal patches of orange rust, a relic from your childhood that hadn't been fully utilized since granny got the indoor electric pump installed years ago.
you set your basin down on the concrete and approached the pump, wrapping your fingers around the long iron handle.
you pushed down, and the lever didn't even budge.
“hnggggh!” you tried again, putting your entire weight into it, your slippers sliding slightly on the mossy concrete as you forced the iron arm upward to prime the cylinder. a screeching groan echoed from the metal throat of the pump, a sound so loud it felt like it was tearing through the quiet morning. your breath caught, your chest heaving against the tight tuck of the sarong as you pumped frantically, trying to coax the groundwater up through the dry valves. a bead of sweat rolled down from your temple, tracing a hot line down your neck as you struggled, your face flushing with a mix of physical exertion and mounting frustration.
“you're going to break your back doing it like that.”
your hands froze on the lever as you whipped your head around, your heart doing a sudden flip against your ribs that had absolutely nothing to do with the heavy lifting.
woah.
caleb looked like he had just walked straight out of a sports commercial—wearing a gray athletic tank top that clung to the damp contours of his chest and black gym shorts that showed off the lean, powerful definition of his thighs. his skin was flushed a warm pink, covered in a fine glistening sheen of sweat with a white towel slung carelessly around his neck.
he took a slow step into your space, his eyes tracking the frantic rise and fall of your chest beneath the thin cotton fabric of the sarong. his gaze flicked from your flushed cheeks, down to your strained shoulders, and finally settled on the rusted handle of the pump-well.
“just got back from a five-kilometer loop around the bypass road,” he tilted his head, a small smirk beginning to tug at the corner of his lips as he took in your disheveled state. “and i come back to find my pipsqueak fighting a piece of old iron. let me guess—the bathroom pipes aren't cooperating?”
“yeah, because of you.”
you pointed an accusing finger at his chest. “you were the one messing with the plumbing yesterday, caleb. i don't know what kind of aerospace engineering logic you applied to granny’s bathroom, but it's completely dry. so yes, the pipes aren't cooperating because you broke them.”
caleb didn't even have the decency to look guilty.
he just stood there, the corner of his mouth twitching upward into an intensely sarcastic smile that made you want to kick his shins. he listened to your scolding with an amused quiet indulgence, like he was watching a small kitten hiss at him through a window.
how annoying.
he didn't even offer an excuse. instead, he took a sudden step forward into your space. “calm down, let me help you.”
instinctively, your heels slid back against the mossy concrete, your arms crossing tightly over the knot of your sarong to keep it secure against your chest. but caleb wasn't looking at you—not yet. his eyes were on the rusted blue lever. he brushed past you, his sun-warmed shoulder cutting through your personal bubble, and wrapped his large hand around the iron handle right where yours had been just seconds ago.
and within two pumps, a thick gushing stream of crystal-clear groundwater burst from the spout, splashing loudly into the plastic basin below.
it was going alright now, thankfully.
you stood a step back, your tongue tucked behind your teeth as you tried to look anywhere but at him. but you couldn't help it. your eyes inevitably traced the flexion of his bicep every time he pulled the lever.
and then—splat!
caleb pushed the lever down too fast, and a full burst of water caught the edge of the basin, ricocheting straight up and hitting you square in the face.
“hey!” the freezing groundwater immediately drenched your forehead, eyelashes, and cheeks, running down the front of your neck and soaking the top line of your cotton sarong.
caleb froze instantly. the sarcastic smirk vanished from his face, replaced by a sudden wide-eyed look of genuine panic. “oh—oops, i'm sorry,” he frantically dropped the iron handle and reached out with both hands, his white gym towel already bunching in his fingers. “i didn't mean to torque it that hard. are you okay? did it get in your nose?”
as a payback, you didn't even give him the chance to wipe your face. before he could step closer with the towel, you lunged downward, scooping a palmful of the freezing water straight out of the filled basin and throwing it upward with a vindictive flick of your wrist.
splat!
the water slapped caleb right across the jaw and eyes, head snapping back in surprise before he shook it aggressively from side to side—exactly like a wet golden retriever trying to shake off a bath—sending a spray of droplets flying from the wet strands of his hair.
he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, a boyish grin breaking through his wet features.
“serves you right.”
“alright, fair enough,” he chuckled, his voice dropping back into that rumbling cadence as he looked down at you.
then, his eyes flicked past your shoulder, landing on the small plastic tray sitting on the concrete slab—the bottle of shampoo, the bar of soap, and the clean towel you had neatly laid out.
“so,” caleb leaned one hand against the cool iron body of the pump, his gaze tracking a slow line from the soap back up to your wet face. “are you getting all washed up and pretty for that day out with your friend?”
you lifted your chin, “yup, i am.”
caleb’s grin hardened, freezing into a rigid imitation of a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
the silence of the backyard rushed back in, thick and suffocating, punctuated only by the rhythmic drip... drip... drip of the water from the spout into the overflowing basin.
“right,” his eyes tracked a slow path down to the wet fabric of your sarong. the thin cotton had absorbed the splash, turning translucent where it clung tightly to the curve of your chest and the dip of your waist. “the friend from state u. the one you walk home with?”
“javi,” you reached up, squeezing the excess water out of your hair strands, letting the drops splash onto the concrete between your feet. “we're going to the plaza. he wants to check out this old second-hand bookstore, and then we're getting dinner.”
“dinner?” caleb repeated, the word sounding flat, heavy, like a stone dropped into mud. “sounds like a lot of effort for a casual classmate.”
“he's not just a classmate, caleb. he's my best friend at university,” you stepped forward, intending to pick up your shampoo bottle, but caleb didn't move an inch. his broad shoulder remained firmly in your line of sight. “now, if you're done breaking things and splashing me, can you continue pumping the water so i can actually wash my hair? i'm going to be late.”
caleb looked at you for a long unreadable beat. then, a familiar smirk began to pull at the corner of his lips—but it was different this time. it was the calculating version of his smile, the one he wore right before he flipped a chessboard.
“sure, anything for my pipsqueak.”
he reached down, wrapping his fingers around the iron handle again, and began to pump. but he didn't do it quickly. he did it with a slow, agonizingly steady rhythm.
“you know, it's just a bit funny. four years away, and the first thing you do when i get back is run off to the city with some guy i’ve never met. makes a guy feel a little replaced.”
“you weren't replaced,” you muttered, leaning over the basin to scoop up some water to wet your hair, the movement causing your sarong to stretch tight across your back. “you left. there's a difference. you went to the academy, you got your own life, your own barracks... your own nursing student.”
the words slipped out before you could stop them, bitter and sharp.
“what did you say?”
“i said you have your own life,” you repeated stubbornly, forcing yourself to straighten up and look him in the eye. “so don't act like i'm the one breaking rules here. go save your overprotective routine for the girl from the nursing college. she's... the one you're planning to court, right?”
the iron handle came to a sudden dead stop.
the water ceased its gushing, reducing to a trickling stream that dripped lazily into the basin.
instead of shooting back with a witty remark, caleb simply averted his gaze. his long eyelashes fluttered as he blinked rapidly, his eyes tracking a random crack on the wet concrete slab. for the first time since he stepped out of that terminal, he looked... guilty.
almost... shameful?
“what, lost your tongue?” you straightened up from the basin, squeezing the wet fabric of your sarong tighter over your chest.
“you stand here lecturing me about hanging out with a friend, acting like you’re still my overprotective—ugh, i don't even know, when you’re literally planning to bring a new girl home next semester.” you purse your lips together, but it's too late to stop now. “you're such a hypocrite, caleb. go save your little 'hold it in' routines and your grand muscle displays for your precious nursing student. see if she actually tolerates your stupid, suffocating mind games, because frankly, i am so sick of hearing about how much you're moving on while i'm just supposed to sit here and—”
you cut yourself off, the words freezing in your throat. your heart did a violent terrifying drop into your stomach.
fuck.
you had just said entirely too much. the stinging venom in your voice hadn't sounded like a childhood best friend being annoyed; it had sounded like a deeply bitter jealous girl who was bleeding all over the concrete.
caleb's head snapped back up. the guilt in his eyes vanished, replaced by a sudden wide-eyed look of absolute shock. he swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing sharply as he stared at your face.
“there... is no nursing student,”
you paused. “huh?”
“i-i made her up,” caleb admitted.
”i invented her the exact second i got into the car yesterday. because you were looking at me like i was just a distant cousin.” he takes a deep breath, eyes wandering away while he furrowed his eyebrows. “you were so casual, so polite, talking about your university and your blockmates like my four years away didn't even matter to you. i got... i got terrified. i thought you completely outgrew me.”
and then, his eyes went back to yours. ”i've never even had the thought to get a girlfriend. i haven't looked at another girl that way since the day i left this hometown.”
you stood frozen in utter surprise, your mind completely blanking out. what the hell? your hands numbed against the cotton of your sarong, your mouth opening slightly but no sound coming out. how were you even supposed to react to that? the chess piece you thought he was playing to move on from you was nothing but a sick desperate lie to get a reaction out of you...
caleb let out a ragged sigh, a bitter self-deprecating chuckle rumbled deep in his bare chest. he looked down at his own wet gym shoes, shaking his head. “i'm such an idiot. i spent four actual years up at that academy staring at flight panels, thinking about nothing else other than coming back home to this house, to you... and just holding you in my arms all over again. but gideon's right. college really did a number on us. you have your own world now.”
he looked you straight in the eye then, his irises dark, intense, and swimming with a vulnerability that completely stripped him bare. “and i just... i missed—”
he stopped himself mid-sentence.
his jaw tensed, eyelids blinking rapidly as a sudden crimson blush bloomed furiously across his cheeks and spread down to his neck. he bit his lower lip, tearing his gaze away from your face and looking out toward the dense wall of trees.
your heart was now hammering so violently against your ribs you were certain he could see it lifting the thin fabric of your sarong.
“i was scared too,” you whispered, breaking the quiet before you could lose your nerve.
caleb’s head snapped back toward you, his eyes wide.
and you clenched your own fists against your thighs, keeping your eyes trained firmly on the concrete between your feet, too shy to meet his gaze. “the only reason i was acting like that in the car... was because i thought you came back as a stranger. you got so big, and you looked so different, and then you started talking about that girl... and i just thought you didn't need me anymore.” you swallowed the lump in your throat.
”all this time, caleb... i missed you. so much.”
there it was, laid out in the open.
caleb’s eyes widened in absolute awe, his breath catching so loudly in his throat it sounded like a gasp. he could do nothing else but to stare down at you, his chest heaving silently beneath his gray tank top.
but then—shreek!
the metal screech of the front gates swinging open suddenly cut through the heavy quiet, the sharp sound making the both of you flinch and snap your heads toward the driveway at the exact same time.
that must be granny.
just like that, your confession was left hanging in the damp morning air, completely cut off as you both went inside the house with granny's slow footsteps shuffling into view. she was carrying two heavy plastic bags filled with mangoes and avocadoes from the early market, her small frame leaning slightly to the side from the weight.
“oh, you're both awake,” granny mumbled, her voice carrying its usual sleepy cadence.
without a word, caleb fell back into his dutiful grandson role, though his face was still flushed a light pink.
he stepped away from you, his large frame moving quickly to take the heavy bags from her hands. you swallowed the lump in your throat and followed him into the kitchen, desperately trying to smooth down the edges of your cotton sarong so you didn't look as completely disheveled as you felt.
the two of you stood by the kitchen counter, casually helping her arrange the fruits into the wicker basket. every time your fingers accidentally brushed against his while reaching for a mango, an awkward jolt went straight up your arm.
granny paused, placing a hand on her hip as she looked at you funnily. “why do you have a sarong on this early? and your hair is wet.”
“the bathroom pipes aren't working, granny,” you explained quickly, your voice a little too high. “i was trying to use the pump-well outside.”
“ah, that old thing,” granny sighed, shaking her head and failing to notice the suffocating tension between you and caleb. “caleb, i told you to fix that last night. look what you did to your sister.”
caleb didn't say anything, just let out a small hum, his throat bobbing as he placed the last avocado in the basket.
“well, i'm quite tired from the walk,” granny rubs her lower back as she turned toward the stairs. “i'm going to take a short nap. caleb, come upstairs for a bit and help me find my maintenance meds in the cabinet. my eyes are too blurry today.”
“yes, gran. i'll be right up,” caleb replied without a single second of hesitation.
he finally turned his head to look at you as granny started her slow climb up the wooden steps. his eyes were still heavy with everything you both had just admitted out by the well, but he couldn't stay. he gave you one unreadable look before turning on his heel, his broad back disappearing up the staircase behind her.
and then, you were just standing there alone in the quiet kitchen.
in a wet sarong. without a proper bath.
fuck's sake.
you let out a long breath, your shoulders slumping as the reality of the situation hit you. your skin felt sticky from the groundwater, your hair was damp and tangled, and you were supposed to meet javi at the plaza later. with the bathroom completely dry and caleb occupied upstairs, a real shower was out of the question now.
muttering a curse under your breath, you walked back to your room, peeling the damp translucent cotton off your skin. you were forced to just wipe yourself down with a dry towel and change back into your casual home clothes.
knock. knock.
“you in there?“
caleb’s voice bled through the thin wood of the door, the sudden wrap of knuckles against your bedroom making you jump half a foot in the air. you quickly smoothed down the front of your fresh t-shirt, took a shaky breath to steady the frantic drumming in your chest, and pulled the door open.
caleb had finally put on a new shirt—a slightly faded black tee that somehow made his broad shoulders look even more intimidating in the cramped hallway—but he was standing there completely awkwardly. his hands were shoved deep into his gym shorts pockets, his elbows jutting out slightly, and he was deliberately looking at a framed vintage cross-stitch on the wall instead of looking at you. a faint, lingering trace of that dark crimson blush was still dusting the tips of his ears.
“uh, yeah?“
caleb cleared his throat, his adam's apple bobbing before he finally shifted his gaze down to meet your eyes.
“granny... uh, gran told me to get the bathroom pipes sorted before she wakes up from her nap,” caleb muttered as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “she said since i was the one who messed them up, i have to fix them right now. but i... i need an extra pair of hands to hold the wrench from the other side of the basin valve.”
he paused, his eyes searching yours with a quiet hesitant look.
“come help me, please?”
—
the bathroom felt smaller than it ever had before.
you stood right over him, bare feet pressed against the cool porcelain of the floorboards, holding a heavy roll of teflon tape and a pair of rusted pliers in your hands. caleb was sitting flat on the floor, his long legs bent awkwardly in the tight space between the toilet bowl and the lower basin cabinetry.
neither of you spoke.
every rustle of his clothing, every heavy breath he exhaled, and every metallic click of his wrench against the pipe joint sounded like a damn gunshot in the cramped room.
your thumb kept sliding over the screen of your phone, lighting up the lock screen to check the digital clock. it was getting closer to the afternoon.
caleb noticed. even though his head was tucked beneath the porcelain basin, his shoulders went completely rigid the third time your phone screen illuminated the dim corner of the room.
then, the scraping sound of the wrench died out. caleb remained perfectly still for a long beat, his forehead resting lightly against the cold underside of the sink as if he were gathering a desperate amount of courage. slowly, he pulled himself back, his broad shoulders clearing the cabinet door as he looked up at you.
“are you...” caleb's voice cracked slightly before he cleared his throat, forcing the gravelly pitch down. “are you still going to the city with your friend?” he reached for the valve handle, his long fingers wrapping around the plastic knob with a hesitation that was entirely uncharacteristic of him.
the question was asked way too softly, way too hesitantly. he sounded small.
you froze, the roll of teflon tape slipping a fraction of an inch between your fingers. the truth was, the second those words had left your mouth by the backyard well—the second you had admitted that you spent four years missing him in the quiet of your bedroom—you had already resolved to cancel the day out. you didn't want to go to the plaza. you didn't want to browse second-hand books or eat dinner across from javi while your skin was still burning from caleb's touch.
but as you looked down at caleb’s upturned face, at the raw vulnerable waiting in his eyes...
“yes, i'm still going.”
why did you say it? you didn't even know. maybe it was a reflex, a desperate attempt to rebuild the walls he had so easily torn down out by the well. maybe you were terrified of what would happen if you stayed here alone with him while granny slept outside.
caleb didn't flare up. he didn't snap or offer a sarcastic remark. he just let out a low quiet hum, nodding his head twice as his eyes dropped back down to the plastic valve.
his reaction wasn't what you expected, and it made the hollow ache in your chest widen into something unbearable. what was supposed to happen now? were you both really going to sit here in the bathroom and pretend like you hadn't just shattered the childhood boundary? were you going to act like you hadn't confessed to missing him until it hurt?
“pips,” caleb said, his tone entirely too polite while he reached his hand upward without looking. “hand me the pliers. and... crawl down here for a second. i need you to hold the main pipe line steady while i tighten this last bolt, or the pressure's going to crack the plastic again.”
“okay,” you murmured instantly, doing exactly as you were told. you dropped the teflon tape onto the lid of the toilet and crouched down beside him.
the space was incredibly cramped.
caleb's position lied flat on his back on the bathroom floor. his head and shoulders are pushed completely inside the dark open cabinet space beneath the sink basin so he can reach the pipes. and because his legs are so long, the lower half of his body is sticking out.
“alright, look,” caleb muttered, his voice echoing hollowly against the underside of the sink. he pointed a long finger at the heavy gray intake pipe. “when i start turning the wrench on this coupling bolt, the whole pipe is gonna want to twist with it. if it twists too much, it’ll snap the plastic threads inside the wall. i need you to take the pliers, clamp them onto the upper collar, and hold it perfectly still. think you can do that?”
and because you have to help him by holding a pipe that is also inside that dark cabinet, you'd have to lean your entire upper body over his chest while you crouched beside his hips and thighs.
“i'm not completely useless, caleb.” you whispered back.
“never said you were,” he murmured, his eyes flickering up to meet yours beneath the sink. for a second, his gaze lingered on your lips, before he blinked and forced his attention back to the metal wrench in his hand. “alright. on three. one... two... three.”
you clamped the pliers onto the collar and squeezed with all your might. you could hear caleb grunting below you, biceps bunching as he threw his strength into turning the stubborn rusted bolt. but the second the wrench caught, your hand slipped on the grease-slicked metal. the pliers clattered loudly against the tiles, and the gray pipe twisted with a nasty screech.
“wait, wait! stop!” you gasped, your fingers scrambling to grab the tool again.
“you're letting it turn!” caleb yelled, though it was more of a breathless panicked laugh than an actual scold. he had to throw his arm over your shoulder, his large hand coming down over yours to help you steady the pliers. “there, hold it tight like that and squeeze!”
“i am squeezing! your hands are too big, you're blocking my grip!”
“okay, okay, teamwork, remember?” caleb chuckled, his breath fanning across your neck. “let me reposition. you hold the handle with both hands, and i’ll just use raw force on the wrench. ready? go."
this time, you locked your fingers around the pliers, planting your heels firmly against the tiled floor and leaning your entire body weight into the tool to keep the line steady. caleb grunted again, a low sound deep in his throat, and with one shove of his arm, the rusted coupling bolt finally gave way, sliding smoothly into place with a satisfying click!
“is that it?” you panted, your knuckles white from gripping the pliers.
“uh, turn the valve. let's see.”
still hovering over him, you reached out and twisted the small plastic knob all the way to the left. for a second, there was a breathless silence—and then, the hollow hiss in the walls was replaced by the rushing water. you both waited, eyes wide, staring at the joint.
not a single drop leaked out. it was perfectly, completely dry.
a breathless laugh then tore out of your chest before you could stop it. “we actually did it!”
“good job, pips.” caleb smiled, his hands coming up to clap against his thighs as he slid himself out from under the sink. ”this is exactly like that summer when we tried to build that stupid treehouse behind the old chapel. remember? you dropped the entire box of nails into the mud and blamed it on a stray dog.“ a nostalgic smile broke across his face as he sat back on his heels.
you wiped the stray pools of water from the floor with an old rag, while caleb casually tossed the teflon tape and pliers back into his plastic toolbox. “because it was a stray dog! it barked at me and i got scared, and need i remind you who tried to use a literal rock because he forgot to bring a hammer?”
“hey, the rock worked for at least three planks,” caleb defended himself, catching the rag you threw at him with a grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that specific, beautiful way they always did when he was genuinely happy. “besides, i was twelve. cut me some slack. at least i didn't cry when the roof fell through.”
“i did not cry because the roof fell, caleb, i cried because a caterpillar fell on my shoulder!”
“same thing, baby. you were a total baby.”
“says the guy who still can't sleep without a fan on because he thinks the darkness makes the room smaller,” you shot back, leaning your shoulder against the bathroom wall.
caleb paused, his grin softening into something incredibly tender, leaving behind the golden-boy warmth you had starved for over the last four years.
“i missed this.” he casually reached out, his long fingers gently tugging at a loose strand of your hair that had dried in a messy curl against your cheek. “i missed you making fun of me. the guys at the academy are too polite. it’s boring.“
“yeah?” your heart did that erratic skip against your ribs again as his thumb lightly brushed against the edge of your jawline. “well... someone has to keep your ego in check.”
“exactly, can't have me flying planes with an oversized head, right?”
you finally stood up, your knees cracking slightly as you broke the spell of the small space.
“i'm gonna... i should probably check the kitchen. granny bought some fish earlier, so i'll start cooking lunch before she wakes up.” you murmured, keeping your voice light as you took a step toward the exit, your hand already reaching for the brass doorknob.
you didn't even get to wrap your fingers around the metal when—
thud.
a large palm slammed flat against the wood of the door right in front of your face, the sudden vibration rattling through the frame. you jumped in surprise, your breath catching sharply in your throat as you instinctively whirled around.
“don't.”
caleb was looming directly over you, but it was the look on his face that made your heart stop. the boyish smile from seconds ago was entirely gone. instead, his features were twisted into a deeply troubled, desperate grimace.
“don't go.”
you frowned. “what do you mean? i'm just going to the kitchen—”
“don't go to the city today,” he interrupted, his tone shifting into something bolder as he stepped even closer, effectively trapping your smaller frame beneath his. “i only have two months here. that's it. sixty days before they drag me back to the barracks and put me back in a cockpit. so...”
caleb hesitates, but he takes a deep breath.
“can you just stay here? can you... spend every single day with me before i have to leave again?"
you stared up at him, your mouth parting slightly. fuck, you were blushing now. it must be so visible.
caleb’s hand—the one planted firmly beside your head—slowly curled into a tight fist against the wood of the door. “it feels like i missed you a hell of a lot more than you missed me.” his voice dropped an octave, turning into a vulnerable murmur. “you have no idea how many nights i spent staring at the ceiling of that concrete bunk, just waiting to see your face this close again.”
speechless, you could only look up at him, your mind completely short-circuiting under his honesty.
desperate to find some sort of anchor, desperate to make sense of the dizzying reality that caleb—your childhood friend that you should see as a brother—was practically begging for your attention, you swallowed hard and blurted out the first defensive defense your brain could manufacture.
“why didn't you get a girlfriend there?” you try, blinking rapidly as you struggled to maintain his gaze. “i mean it, caleb. you're... you're handsome, and you're well-built. it’s completely impossible that you didn't at least have girls trying to talk to you or court you up there.“
“why didn't i get one?” a slow smile broke through his troubled expression, his eyes glittering with a sudden amusement. he tilted his head down, his gaze dropping briefly to your small hands, before snapping back up to lock directly into your eyes.
“because... i prayed every single day. i closed my eyes at night and prayed that you wouldn't have a boyfriend by the time i got back.” you press your head further against the wood of the door, just when caleb nears his face close enough. “the thought of another man touching what belongs to this house... what belongs to me... would really, deeply upset me."
he leaned down a fraction of an inch further, but then he suddenly breaks the proximity by pulling back.
“and... did you just say i'm handsome?” caleb smiled wider, his thumb trailing down the doorframe to lightly graze the very edge of your wet shoulder. “so... is that an admission? am i attractive to you?”
am i attractive to you?
your lips parted, but no sound came out.
the sheer audacity of him—shifting from a desperate aching boy to this dangerously confident creature in the span of a single breath—was enough to make your throat go dry. you wanted to push him away, wanted to snap at him for using that rumbling tone on you, but you couldn't.
“you're an idiot, caleb.”
“that's not an answer, pips.”
he moved his hand from the doorframe, his fingers sliding slowly down the side of your neck. his palm was warm, a stark contrast to the chilled skin of your collarbone where the groundwater had soaked you earlier. his thumb found the frantic pulse point fluttering at the base of your throat, pressing just firmly enough to let you know he could feel exactly how much power he held over you in this room.
just outside, through the wooden slats of these walls, granny was sleeping. the knowledge that she was just at the other side of the room—that a single loud noise, a dropped tool, or a sharp gasp would shatter the quiet of the house...
“caleb, stop,“ you breathed, the protest losing all its teeth as your fingers instinctively curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him slightly closer instead of pushing him back. “granny will...”
“i'm being quiet,” he whispered back, tilting his head until his lips were brushing the sensitive shell of your ear. “but you're driving me crazy.”
a soft whimper caught in your throat, and caleb immediately swallowed it.
“hmgh—!”
you felt his hand sliding from your neck up to your jaw, tilting your face up as his lips came down to meet yours.
it wasn't the sweet, tentative kiss of childhood friends.
it was rather heavy, desperate, and laced with an aching hunger that had been rotting inside his chest for several months.
his lips pressed firm and unyielding against yours, demanding a response you had been starving to give. you let out a muffled gasp against his mouth, and caleb took total advantage of it—his tongue slid past your teeth with a stroke that made your knees buckle.
you would have almost slid straight down the door if caleb’s other arm hadn't instantly locked around your waist.
he hoisted you up, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips through your thin shorts, dragging your lower body flush against his. the solid weight of him was overwhelming; you could feel the hard contours of his thighs and the frantic rising and falling of his chest.
you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, your fingers tangling into the short, damp strands of his hair, pulling him down further. you kissed him back with the same bitterness you’d been hoarding since he left—punishing him for the distance, for the nursing student lie, for the suffocating way he made you feel like you belonged to him even when he was hundreds of miles away.
your hands, tangled in the soft fabric of his black t-shirt, moved themselves to his shoulders, pushing against the stubborn muscle until he was forced to take a blind step backward. his heel caught against the base of the toilet, and with a muffled grunt, caleb sank down.
the plastic lid was securely closed, providing a seat that placed him directly beneath you, his knees spread wide to accommodate the sudden change in height.
you froze for a second, your breath hitching as you stood between his thighs. the sudden drop in his posture left you looking down at him, your hands still resting on his broad shoulders while he looked up at you through his eyelashes. you hesitated, your lower lip stinging from the friction of his mouth, and despite of it all, your mind kept on screaming that you were crossing a line you could never uncross.
but caleb didn't give you the chance to overthink it.
his hands reached up, palms slick with a light sheen of sweat as they wrapped firmly around the sides of your waist. with one heavy pull, he guided your hips forward. and then, your knees slid effortlessly over his thick, denim-clad thighs until you were completely straddling his lap.
“ah—”
shit, this is such an intimate position!
the impact of your lower body hitting his thighs made a gasp slip from your throat, but caleb caught it instantly again. he surged upward, his mouth slamming back over yours to smother the sound before it could echo past the wooden door.
the kiss turned frantic, fueled by the weight of your body resting completely on his. it wasn't gentle anymore. caleb’s tongue pushed deep, demanding and possessive, while his teeth lightly caught the flesh of your bottom lip, biting down just enough to make you whine into his mouth. you bit him back in retaliation, an instinctive nip that made a guttural vibration rumble deep in his chest. his hands moved from your waist, one sliding up to cup the back of your head, his fingers tangling roughly into your damp hair to hold your face exactly where he wanted it, while the other pressed flat against your lower back.
and then, without warning, your mind went entirely, terrifyingly blank.
a sudden rolling pressure moved beneath the thin fabric of your shorts. caleb arched his back just to grind his hips upward in a slow tilt that pressed the hard length of his arousal directly against your center.
then, a sharp jolt of pure heat shot straight up your spine, making your eyes flutter shut as your fingers clawed into the fabric of his shirt.
“caleb—” you gasped against his lips, trying to pull back just an inch to breathe.
“shh,” he breathed, his mouth instantly chasing yours, his lips brushing against your cheek, your jawline, before burying his face in the crook of your neck. his breathing was completely ragged, a suffocating thing against your collarbone. he didn't stop. his hand on your lower back moved down, a heavy palm pressing firmly against the base of your spine, and he ground his hips upward again, harder this time, forcing you to feel every single inch of how aroused he's just getting.
“please,” caleb whispered into your skin, his voice cracking. ”don't move away. please... just let me feel you like this. i’m so tired of imagining it.”
“granny will...” you whimpered, your head tilting back as his teeth lightly grazed the sensitive skin right beneath your ear. your hands were shaking against his shoulders, your lower body instinctively tilting into his next roll, a shameless surrender that made him let out a broken sigh. “caleb, if she... if she hears us...”
“she won't,” he muttered against your skin, his thumb digging firmly into your hip bone, locking you flush against him so there wasn't a single millimeter of space left between your bodies. he took a deep breath, his chest expanding hard against yours as he forced his movements to become agonizingly slow. “i’ll be quiet. just stay. please... you’re right here, you’re finally right here...”
“i'm here,” you whispered breathlessly into his ear. “i'm right here.”
your skin was beginning to sting where it pressed against his. the agonizingly slow tilts of his hips couldn't stay slow for long.
without either of you consciously deciding it, the grinding turned into a drag of weight against weight—a quiet breathless dryhumping that sent waves of heat pooling directly between your thighs.
the fabric of your loose shorts and his heavy denim rubbed together with a soft, repetitive whisper—it was the only continuous sound in the small space besides the ragged, broken cadence of your breaths. caleb’s hands were no longer just holding you; they were practically anchoring you to him. his long fingers buried into the flesh of your bum, pulling your pelvis down hard against his with every upward surge of his thighs.
“caleb—”
the name was clipped neatly from your tongue as he hitched his hips higher, a muffled whimper escaping your throat. you slapped a hand over your own mouth, your eyes widening in sheer panic as you stared at the bathroom door. the reminder of granny sleeping just down the hall felt like a wire wrapped tight around your throat.
caleb caught your wrist, gently pulling your hand away from your lips only to replace it with his own shoulder. “bite me,” he choked out a whisper. “bite the shirt. don't... don't make a sound.”
you didn't hesitate. you buried your face into the soft black cotton of his shoulder, your teeth sinking into the fabric as caleb let out a shuddering gasp.
he was a complete mess.
nothing more than a boy who looked thoroughly undone by your weight in his lap. a dark crimson blush had crawled all the way up his neck, blooming across his sharp cheekbones and turning the tips of his ears a burning pink. his long eyelashes were damp, fluttering rapidly as he kept his eyes squeezed shut.
every time your weight humped against his hard bulge, a whine would catch in his throat, a sound he desperately swallowed by burying his face into your hair.
you began to move with him, your hips rolling in a frantic rhythm that matched his pace, chasing the tight, coil of pleasure that was tightening in your stomach. this makes his fingers dig brutally into your hip bones.
“wait—hey, wait,” he wheezed, his hips stuttering against yours as he tried to find his bearings. he was trembling beneath you, the muscles in his thighs and arms locked so tight they were vibrating. he opened his eyes, irises completely blown out, to look up at you. “you're... if you move like that... i won't be able to stay quiet.”
“then don't move,” you breathed against his neck, unable to stop humping him like a starving bunny.
“i can't,” he whispered back, a tear of sheer overstimulation tracing down his flushed temple. a soft, helpless whimper broke from his chest as his hips instinctively arched upward again, completely disregarding his own warning. he ground his lower body against yours in three quick, desperate, and torturously deep strokes, his head falling back against the porcelain tank as he fought a losing battle to keep his ragged groans silent inside.
“how about...” you panted, “how about we do this standing up? would that... would that make less noise?“
caleb's movements immediately stopped, his breath hitching sharply in his throat at the suggestion. he didn't answer with words; his large hands just tightened around your waist, and with a low grunt of exertion, he stood up, lifting you effortlessly off his lap before setting your feet firmly back onto the cool tile floor.
before your knees could buckle from the sudden rush of cold air, caleb's heavy palms guided you forward. you found yourself bending over the bathroom sink, your upper body lowering until your forearms were pressed flat against the cool, smooth porcelain basin...
right in front of the wide mirror.
seconds later, the towering weight of caleb’s chest loomed against your back. he adjusted his stance, his long legs spreading slightly to frame yours, and then he crowded back into you. the thick ridge of his arousal aligned perfectly with your ass from behind, pressing hard against your thin cotton shorts.
he started moving again, but this angle... this angle was entirely different.
it was so much more exposing, so much more intense, because when you look up, your blurred vision collided directly with your reflection in the mirror.
you could see everything. you could see your own flushed breathless face, your lips swollen and wet from his kisses. and right behind you, caleb was a mess. his dark hair was thoroughly mussed, cheeks and neck burning with a furious blush.
with every thrust from him, the force of his hips sent a jolt of heat straight to your throbbing thing, making your hands slick against the porcelain as you gripped the edges of the sink for dear life.
“hngh...! caleb—”
“shh—you have to keep quiet,” caleb scrambled to scold you, but he sounded completely panicked, his breathing so loud and ragged it was a miracle granny couldn't hear it from outside. “gran's room is... it's literally right beside this. if you make a sound, i'm gonna—we're gonna get caught.”
even while trying to play the protective guide, his eyes shifted downward in the reflection. staring at your bent-down position, watching the way your body curved beneath his and how perfectly you took every push of his thighs, was enough to send caleb entirely over the edge. he went visibly harder against you, his long fingers trembling violently where they were clamped over your hip bones.
“god, shit—” caleb choked out, his forehead dropping heavily against your shoulder blade, his chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon. his rhythm turned a little clumsy, a little too eager, his hips grinding up against you with an uncoordinated, desperate hunger that made your mind spin. “i... i don't even know what i'm doing. i almost... i can't believe this is real. you're actually here. you're really letting me do this.”
“caleb, you're moving too fast,” you whimpered, your fingers slipping on the wet porcelain as he gave another firm, deep roll of his pelvis that made your thighs shake.
“i'm sorry, i'm sorry,” pressing a line of apologetic kisses along your shoulder blade, he consciously tried to slow himself down, his large hands squeezing your hips to steady the rhythm, though the intense blush on his face only deepened until his ears were practically purple. “is this better? like this?”
“yeah... yeah..”
suddenly, caleb’s hands moved from your hips, his long fingers sliding beneath the hem of your shorts.
“hey,” he choked out. “i can't... i'm not staying behind these clothes anymore. i need to feel you.”
with a frantic uncoordinated rush of movement that was entirely fueled by a lack of control, he pulled your shorts and underwear down to your knees, managing to free himself from his gym shorts at the exact same time.
the sudden sensation of his bare, burning skin pressing against your uncovered backside made you gasp. “w-wait, caleb, what are y—”
he didn't wait. caleb guided the tip of his manhood to your entrance and pushed forward. with a slow, agonizingly thick surge, he slid completely inside of you.
the size of him filled you so entirely it took your breath away. your fingers clawed at the slick porcelain of the sink, your head dropping as a high broken whimper left your lips. caleb let out a long trembling groan against your shoulder, his chest heaving violently as he buried himself to the hilt.
“fuck, fuck!”
”be quiet, caleb...”
“s-sorry, fuck.” a lazy smirk tugged at his lips in the reflection, his hands tightening on your waist. “see? i told you nobody else could fit you like this. you're shaking.”
he buries his head into your hole much, much deeper. “did you miss me this much?”
the teasing sting of his words, even now, made a surge of stubborn retaliation flare up in your chest. you didn't want him to see how completely undone you were. pulling your hands off the sink, you tried to straighten your spine and pull yourself forward, attempting to slide off his dick to break his rhythm.
it was the wrong move.
the sudden threat of losing you made caleb snap completely. his large hands locked around your hips like iron cuffs, yanked you violently backward, and thrusted into you with a force that was so deep and heavy it made your vision go entirely white.
“don't run from me,” caleb gave another hard, bruising thrust that almost hit your womb, pinning you ruthlessly against the porcelain. his upper body slammed against your back, his face completely flushed a dark, furious crimson as he forced your head up. “look at yourself in the mirror. look at what you're doing to me. look at how much of me is inside you right now.”
you couldn't even form words to respond. you were completely paralyzed by how big, how thick, and how utterly unrelenting he felt stretching you open from the inside. all you could do was grip the edges of the sink for dear life, your knuckles turning white as your body struggled to take his bare thighs slapping against yours.
yet, for all his dominant holding, caleb was a complete, crying mess.
every single time he shoved his hips forward, a pathetic little moan escaped his throat—sounds he tried so desperately to bite back, burying his face in your wet hair or chewing on his own bottom lip until it bled, utterly terrified of waking granny up outside.
“fuck, please,” caleb whimpered against your neck, penetrating you over and over again with each stroke making you cry out into your hand. he was trembling so hard the vibration traveled straight into your body. “can we... can we do this every day? just until i leave again? please. tell me you'll let me do this to you every single day?”
you couldn't even answer him. you were too occupied, and quite literally occupied, by the way he's pounding against your ass.
he was driving into you, his pelvis slamming against your backside with a wet and heavy sound. it was too much. the fullness of him stretching you open was overwhelming, and as he bottomed out completely inside you for the third time in a row, the careful restraint in your throat shattered.
“aaangh~!”
before the sound could even fade, caleb's palm snapped upward to clamp firmly over your mouth. his long fingers wrapped tightly around your jaw, crushing your lips against your teeth and effectively smothering your next desperate gasp into a muffled whimper against his skin.
“i told you to stay quiet,” but even as he scolded you, his lower body didn't slow down for a single second. if anything, your loud reaction only drove him deeper into the edge, his hips pumping into you even faster. “you're gonna wake her up. do you want gran to walk in here and see you like this? see what a bad girl you're being f'me?”
you were completely pathetic beneath him now. you couldn't breathe properly, you couldn't scream, and you couldn't pull away. all you could do was let out small broken whines against his palms, your tears wetting his fingers as your hips shook uncontrollably under the force of his penetration. you were nothing but a trembling, weeping toy for him to use.
“shit... oh god, shit, look at you,”
followed by a groan, his entire body went rigid as he reached his breaking point. needing to get even deeper, to consume every remaining inch of you before he spilled, he reached down with his other hand and hooked it beneath your thigh. with one effortless pull, he lifted your leg up to force you to balance precariously on one foot while your knee was pinned up against his waist. “fuck, i'm so close,”
the new, devastatingly wide angle opened you up completely. it only allowed him to bury his entire length into you with a series of shoving that made your head snap back.
“don't make a sound,” caleb choked out, his voice cracking into a crying whisper while he began to hammer into you with his hand pressing harder against your mouth. “keep it in. take all of me right now. just take it.”
the final push of his hips sent your mind spiraling into absolute oblivion, your body tightening around his thickness in a series of violent, helpless spasms that milked him completely. caleb let out a sharp gasp against the crown of your head, his entire muscular frame going stiff as iron against your back. he knew he was at the absolute point of no return. even through the blinding fog of his climax, that ingrained discipline and the terrifying reality of the consequences cut through his thoughts.
with a sudden, desperate grunt of exertion, caleb grabbed your hip bone with bruising force and violently pulled himself out of you.
the abrupt sensation of emptiness made a choked sob rise in your throat, but before you could even register the loss, caleb’s release hit you. he came in heavy thick spurts across your backside and the small of your lower back.
“oh, god—oh fuck, i'm coming, i'm coming,” caleb cried out, his voice completely fracturing into a loud mess. he couldn't even keep himself quiet anymore. “fuck, i love you, i love you so much. look at what you did to your caleb.”
a crying whimper escaped his lips as the final waves of his orgasm racked his large body. his hand finally slid off your face, fingers trembling as he let go of your jaw, leaving your lips swollen and burning. instead, he dropped both of his heavy palms onto the curves of your hips. “look at this fucking mess...”
meanwhile, your upper body remained slumped over the cool porcelain of the sink. your fingers were weakly splayed against the slick basin, completely devoid of any remaining strength. your knees were wobbling so much beneath your weight that the only thing keeping you from collapsing onto the tiled floor was the unyielding grip of caleb's hands on your waist.
slowly, caleb’s heavy breathing began to level out, turning into shallow, ragged pants against the nape of your neck. he opened his eyes, staring down at the reflection in the wide glass mirror.
he could only stare at the mess in absolute awe. the sight of you bent over the sink, your shorts pushed down to your knees, your skin flushed a beautiful crimson and glistening with his thick, white fluids, looked like something straight out of the sinful dreams he had hoarded in his concrete barracks. it didn't feel real. the fact that he had actually touched you, filled you, and marked you like this inside his grandmother’s house made his heart thump.
with a sigh, caleb leaned his entire weight forward, completely hugging you from behind. his broad chest pressed firmly against your back while his large arms wrapped securely around your waist to support your sagging frame. he buried his face into the side of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply as if he were trying to memorize it all over again.
“pipsqueak,” he whispered, his voice incredibly rough, gravelly. ”hey... look at me. are you okay? did i hurt you?”
you let out a small whimper, your head shifting weakly against his shoulder as you managed to nod. “yes... i'm okay.”
caleb let out a breathy chuckle, and he tilted his head to press a soft kiss against your burning cheek. “do you think we woke gran up?”
you swallowed the dryness in your throat as you stared blankly at the porcelain basin. “i... i don't know, caleb. you were really loud at the end.”
caleb hummed, a lazy, satisfied sound as his thumbs lightly stroked the sensitive skin of your hip bones, soothing the small red marks his fingers had left behind.
“well... if she's awake, she's probably just gonna think i'm clumsy and dropped the wrench again,” he murmured into your hair, his grip tightening just a fraction, pulling you closer into his warmth. “come on. let's get you cleaned up. i'll wash you down, and then... i'll cook you that braised pork you love right now. the one with the sweet soy sauce and the star anise. how would that sound, pips?”
“that sounds great, gege.”
caleb gulped at the nickname. “it's been a while since you used that on me,” his face breaks into a smile, and then he leans down to look at you in the eye instead of through the mirror. “what if you use that while we do it again tonight?”
