Caleb's

20 something girlie lemme interact thankuu!💜

[tenowls]

wretched beginning, wretched end

[scorpyuu]

[ Valko ] 🐺

[thalwri]

IN HEAT

synopsis: valko is in deep heat with the supermoon occurring, and he wants a solution that requires restraints, a collar, and you.

warnings: valko is in heat, sub!valko, good boy!valko, collar use, bondage, riding, overstimulation, biting, licking, scent marking, edging, knots, rutting, monsterfucking.

wc: 2,3k

a/n: i love him already, he's such a cutie. he deserves endless cuddles, BE NICE TO HIM! i want to devour him. I NEED HIM TO EAT ME OU– enjoy a pre-release celebration of our handsome wolf, valko!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

He must be in heat. that’s the only way Valko can describe this feeling. The moon has been full for less than an hour, and he’s already twitching. Usually he can handle himself. But that’s not gonna work out well for him if all he can think about is you.

Your scent is delicious, beyond the scented lotions and perfume, he’s talking about your natural aroma, amplified by sweat and other smells your body emits. It draws him in. He can’t help but sniff the air every time you walk past him. His cock won’t stop twitching in his pants, tenting at the sight of you catching his gaze.

Valko wants to bite you. Valko wants to slather you with his saliva until you smell like him. He wants to rut his cock so deep inside you, cuddle you so close and keep you so warm with his hot body that you just have to call him a good boy.

“…ko,” He must be imagining you saying his name so nice and breathless.

“…alko.” There it is again, louder, your nails could drag down his back until he bleeds and he’d thank you.

“Valko!” He blinks, the mirage of a heated embrace disappearing from his perception to be replaced by your fingers snapping very close to his face. Such pretty fingers, he wants to lick—

“Yeah?” His voice is gruff and hoarse, almost like he’s keeping a whimper tight in his throat. His leg bounces as fast as his heart pounds his chest. You’re so pretty, with your pretty parted lips, and how your saliva keeps it just wet enough to shine in the warm lamp light. So plump for him to kiss and bite—

“As I was saying,” You pull your hand away, not hearing the small whine that leaves him from the lack of contact. “We need to make sure you’re comfortable for the next few hours. You said you can get agitated when there’s full moons, right?”

“Mmh.” Better a grunt than a moan. You brush it off assuming the effects of the celestial event are starting to mess with him internally.

Of course, you’re well aware that he’s got an extra pair of fluffy scratchable ears on the top of his head, an even fluffier tail protruding from the base of his spine, and sharper canines. You’re not ignorant. 

What you don’t know is that he’s much more prone to getting heated in these hours. Especially in the presence of someone who his body, mind, and soul are attuned to completely. It’s you. You're that someone.

But he has to behave for your sake. He can’t be bad, he can’t be too rash and aggressive or he might scare you off. You might not like it. But he wants you so damn bad, he can’t even hide it anymore. 

You’re rattling about restraints, something to tie him to incase he goes berserk.

Restraints. Belts. Muzzle. Chair. Tie him to a chair. He wants you to tie him to a chair.

He wants you to restrain him. He wants you to sit on his lap and feel how hard his cock is for you, feel it throb just below your cunt, grind his hips up to you still so retrained and held back that he has to beg you to ride him. He might as well ask for it. 

“…unless that’s too extreme.” You mutter, expecting a response. Nothing. Did he zone out again? What’s going on with Valko to be so distracted? He wasn’t like this last month. “Look, I know the full moon can be a messy time for you, and now that it’s a supermoon it could be worse, but I’d prefer you to actually respond— oh.”

Valko is drooling. Valko’s eyes are glazed over. Valko is blushing beyond relief. And Valko is sporting a rock hard boner.

The silence that stretches between you would have been uncomfortable, it should have been. But you seem to enjoy the rough pants that escape his lips, how his hands are balled into fists to keep himself at bay. How the veins on his neck are far more prominent now. 

You sink your teeth into your lower lip, hoping you won’t say anything foolish. 

“Don’t laugh.” Valko grits, his fluffy ears drooping a little. 

“I wasn’t going to.” You say, trying to ignore the fact that your lips are twitching into a smile.

You glance down from his agitated golden eyes to his neck, to his large muscular chest covered by the black tank you always find so attractive on him, to the taper of his waist, to the pulsing print of his cock bulging against his pants.

Now that you think of it, you two haven’t shared the bed recently. You’ve both been so busy with work that neither of you have had time for each other. And you’ve been very wound up these last few days.

“I think we should figure out what restraints will be good for you.” A purr follows your words as you rest your hands on his chest. Muscular, warm, huge chest that you love to sleep on. You’re making this much, much worse and you know it. You can hear it in the groan that rumbles in his chest. 

“Oh, is it getting worse?” You play an aloof demeanour, reaching to caress the soft ears on his head, making sure to rub on that sensitive spot where his hair is its softest. A soft moan escapes Valko’s lips as his golden eyes flutter closed.

“Please…”

“What do you need me to do, my love?” Your lips ghost the shell of his fleshy ear, tongue peeking out to trace the shell. He shudders, head lowering to give you more access, hips rocking towards you so you can feel just what you need to do. 

You don’t want that, though. He has to say it.

“I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”

A pained moan rushes right into your ear as he drops a part of his weight on you. Valko doesn’t want to say it but he also wants to say it. It doesn’t make sense. This heated state is driving him insane, and you’re giving him such a clear path to relief. But what he wants is different from what you usually do… will you agree?

With a shaky breath, Valko nuzzles the side of your neck, mustering the will to confess his desire. “You have to tell me no if you can’t do it.”

“I will.” You reassure him, stroking his soft hair. His arms wrap tight around you, grounding himself in your presence as the words unknot themselves to flow out.

“If you’re grossed out—“

“I won’t be grossed out, Val.” You softly say, rubbing circles into his lower back. “Nothing about you grosses me out. I trust you, so you need to trust that I’ll handle whatever you need and that I’ll tell you if I can’t. Outside of cannibalism, I'm not doing that.”

That makes him chuckle. “You’ll tell me the second you’re uncomfortable?”

“The millisecond.”

His next request comes out more sheepishly. “You’ll tell me I’m doing good?”

“I’ll put a poet to shame.”

“Pull my hair?”

“Put a collar on you too if you’re feeling feisty.”

A sigh of relief escapes Valko’s lips. Oh, he loves you. Finally, he pulls his face away from your neck to level your gaze with fresh determination on his face. “I want you to tie me to the chair, and ride the shit outta me.”

Ask and ye shall receive, as you hear them say.

It was easy to put Valko on a chair especially when he's drunk on your kisses, hungrily biting marks into your bare chest and stomach, gripping your hips so tight you’d think he’s terrified that you’ll run. It was easier to get soaked just from watching him strip for you— that, and having his fingers curl so good inside your cunt as he slurped and lapped at your clit.

The only ‘difficult’ part was restraining him to the chair, legs, arms, and torso roped tight, and that’s just because he’s antsy whenever the full moon happens. 

But something about this supermoon has got him more riled up than usual. Why, you ask?

You’ve been bouncing on the man’s cock for two hours. 

You’re not complaining, you love every second of this. Your walls are fluttering around him as he slides in and out of you so easily, caught by you keeping his fat tip inside leaking all that sticky, hot precum before you drop into his lap again and again and again. 

“Val— ooh, fuck!” Your praise has otherwise become mush, slurred moans of his name and whatever adulation could come to mind. Valko doesn’t mind since he isn't doing any better. If anything, he’s lost the need to think.

“S-So good,” His throat is torn from how loud he’s been, his hips jutting into you even with his thick, corded thighs roped down to the chair. His tail is slapping the floor, his fluffy ears are twitching. He can barely move, limbs strapped down and a collar wrapped around his neck at his own request. And he loves it.

He wants to cum so bad. But then he’d end up swelling so much that he’d be stuck for hours, just grinding and grinding and plugging his seed inside instead of feeling you slap down on him with each rise and fall of your full hips. He wouldn’t have your soft breasts bouncing in his face, or feel your hands scratch his undercut and pull his hair, or hear the hiccups in your voice or the ragged moans in his own.

Why make this pleasure so short-lived when he can prolong it? 

His cock is leaking like a faucet, keeping him smooth and wet for you to use him as you please, pulsing with the desire to just release. His sacks are drawn up tight, literally clenching with enough cum to repopulate a country, and yet he still won’t give in.

Valko drags his tongue up your jaw all the way to your cheekbone. “ ‘m I fuckin’ you good?”

“Hah— mhm. Such a good boy.” You ramble into his lips as you kiss him, slipping your tongue inside to taste him as if he isn’t all that you can sense. “So big and thick and hot… so— Valko— so full ‘f you, want you deeper, you’re so good!”

You’re on orgasm number five by now, gripping onto Valko’s strong shoulders for dear life, back arched, tugging his hair like you want to rip his red locks off. It’s the supermoon, you tell yourself, it must be shooting his stamina through the roof.

It fucking has to be if he’s been rutting into you like a bullet train without cumming even once. His girth twitches with every rock of your plush hips, it leaks and weeps inside you every time you squeeze him hard enough to cut off his blood flow. It has to hurt, prolonging his climax for this long.

Valko likes it that way. He likes the hurt. He likes the way his body just responds to you so well, like you’re made for each other. You have to be.

Your knees are starting to ache. Your thighs are burning from the constant bouncing up and down his thick length but the feeling of him dragging through your walls with each vein pressing against your walls is too good. The overwhelming bump of his cockhead kissing your cervix may just tip you over the edge again. The fucking curve of his cock and the angle just lets him reach the sensitive nerves of your g-spot so good every damn time!

You love these fucking supermoons.

“Valko,” You hum, licking his lips then his chin and jaw, your breath heavy as you maintain your pace. Just a few more and you’ll be in pure bliss. But you need him there with you. “I’m close. I’m so close. Hnn, need you— cum with me.”

“You— oh, you sure?” He whimpers, nuzzling you as you lick the tears off his cheeks. “I’ll—“

“Knot me, mhm.” You nod, rubbing your nose into his cheek, inhaling his scent. This man’s frenzied behaviour has been rubbing off on you too much, not that there’s reason to complain. “You’re gonna swell up so fuckin’ thick, yeah?”

He nods. “Gonna plug all that cum in me, keep it warm inside while you grind ’n rut into me?”

“Yeah,” He affirms, his arms pulling against the restraints. Is this what you want? You want him to bond with you to that much of an intimate extent? You must truly love him. “ ’m gonna stay in you the whole night, snug inside. But I like when you ride me.” You can feel him pouting as he pecks your skin. So cute.

“Then you’ll be a good boy, right?” You coo, your hands cupping his face as you press your thumbs on his lower lip. “Cum with me, and stay inside all night.” You fight every urge to give in to the pleasure when he bites your fingers.

You suck his upper lip, letting your moans vibrate into his. “Can you do that for me?”

Valko’s a simple man. You ask for something and he’ll give it to you with a smile. Like he is now, canines bared, tongue lapping at your fingers before he attacks your lips with a bruising, hot kiss. He pulls away just for a second to mutter against your mouth, “I love you.”

“I know, baby.” You huff, smiling into the kiss as you scratch his fluffy ears. Valko’s hips rut up faster and you can feel his cock swell at the base, almost ready to be plugged into you. Oh, he is so going to eat his cum out of you once he’s soft. “Now be good and cum with me.” 

[applefishing]

medical kink with zayne doctor/patient, dubcon, cum as medicine

You’ve only been seeing him a few weeks when he suggests you have a full checkup. He's calm, composed and professional when he explains exactly what that means, and it should be completely normal.

But he's not just your doctor. The unspoken agreement to ignore the relationship you shared as children during each appointment has suited you perfectly fine. But as he hands you a small thin gown and draws the curtains around the small bed so you can change, you suddenly find yourself wishing you’d faced the elephant in the room before now.

The rhythmic tapping of his keyboard is the only accompaniment to your undressing. And it’s only when you hook your thumbs into the elastic of your underwear that you find your voice. “Do you think… maybe I should see another doctor for this?”

He stops typing. Silence, 1… 2…

A draw slams.

Your nails dig into your hips as you jump, startled.

“That won’t be necessary,” he says. Calm. Matter of fact. Final. “Are you ready?”

You quickly let your underwear drop and slip into the flimsy hospital gown. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m… ready.”

You blink into the light as the curtain is pulled back, exposing you the full glare of the fluorescents.

A large shadow offers you a little relief.

“Lie down for me, please,” he instructs as he snaps a pair of blue gloves onto his hands.

It starts just as you expect, you lace your fingers together across your stomach and stare at the white ceiling and pretend it’s normal to have your childhood friend positioning himself between your legs under bright fluorescents at 10 in the morning, or at all.

He parts your thighs with gentle confidence. “It’s just a quick look,” he says. “Nothing invasive. Try and stay still for me.”

You nod, closing your eyes to seek a little false privacy.

His chair squeaks as he adjusts himself between your legs, but apart from a hand on your thigh, he doesn’t touch you. The air hits you, remining you of your starkness, and it’s unlike anything else, that feeling of exposure.

You attempt to keep your breathing steady, to match his own.

Then his chair squeaks again, and you can feel he’s closer. So close his breath warms the skin of your thighs. “Mm,” he hums, “just a little cold from the gloves now.”

You hold your breath. The chair squeaks. And despite your best efforts, you flinch at the light brush of his gloves. It’s not from the cold. In fact, they aren’t cold at all. You can feel the warmth of his hands through the plastic. But you were expecting something a little more assured, firm, purposeful.

This touch is light. So light it almost tickles.

“It’s alright,” he says. “Just do your best to stay still.”

You suck in a deep breath, and his finger returns. Still far too light. One single, continuous stroke from your mound to your entrance. Feather-light.

That’s how he touches you for what feels like minutes.

It’s long enough that the moment he applies a little pressure to part your lips, you don’t flinch at all—accustomed to his touch. Maybe that was the purpose, you ponder. Maybe this was normal.

“Are you sexually active?” he asks suddenly, his fingers continuing their inspection.

Your eyes blink open into the harsh light. “No,” you mutter.

“Pardon?”

“No,” you answer, loud enough to reach him this time.

“At all?”

You shake your head. A gesture he must catch, because he doesn’t repeat his question. Instead, he hums, continuing his prodding and stroking. He mumbles something too. You’re sure of it. But you can’t bring yourself to question him, and he doesn’t repeat himself, so you assume it’s unimportant.

When the tip of his index finger brushes directly over your hole for the first time, your knees involuntarily snap shut. Or at least, they make an attempt.

He catches your thigh. “Did that hurt?”

“No. Sorry, I—”

“It’s okay,’ he says. “I’m not going inside, remember? Just touching.”

“Yeah,” you breathe, letting your legs relax again.

“Good girl.”

Your breath hitches. Your eyes fix to one spot on the ceiling. Good girl. You have to breathe again. You could breathe. You force yourself to breathe.

You’d misheard him.

This was normal.

His finger prods at your entrance, like he was testing how much pressure he would have to apply to breach you.

Then, “What do you use for menstruation?”

You blink, processing like he was speaking a foreign language you’d just started to pick up.

“Tampons? Pads?” he adds.

“Pads.”

“Have you tried tampons?”

“No.”

He hums. “And have you used any toys?”

You take a shaky breath in. “Toys?”

“Sex toys.”

His warm hand presses against your thigh, holding you spread open before him. “I… No.”

“Fingers?”

Your breathing is uneven now. You can’t control it. You’ve lost the reigns and the only thing you have to ground you is the eye-watering white light above you.

“A little.”

His finger prods, still not breaching. “A little?”

“Mm,” is all you can offer in response.

And then you feel it. His finger moves just enough to spread a little wetness across your skin.

Oh god.

Your eyes squeeze shut.

“It’s okay,” he soothes. “It’s healthy.” He’s only used one finger from the start. And it’s the same index finger that now works to spread your own humiliation up from your entrance to your mound, where he started. “It’s perfectly healthy,” he says again. “Do you know what it’s for?”

Yes. Of course you did.

You’re silent, focusing on breathing. You take a few shaky breaths. He waits.

Then, without yet understanding why, you shake your head.

His finger pauses. A heavy moment of silence. Then his chair squeaks. His breath brushes against the top of your thigh.

“It’s to reduce friction,” he says as his finger works up and down your slit. “Keeps you nice and comfortable…” His voice is different now, you realise. Distracted. “So it’s very good that you get so slippery,” he continues. “So, so healthy. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

There’s one press after that: one you are sure will push past that little cushion of resistance and slip inside.

He rolls back right at the moment you’re sure he’ll enter, separating himself from you with such a suddenness you are laying there spread wide for an embarrassing long moment before pulling your knees together.

He walks across the room. You don’t dare watch him directly, just track him through your periphery. His gloves snap off and fall into a bin.

He clears his throat.

Then he’s at your bedside. He blocks the light from above you, towering—his normal stoic expression gracing his pretty features. “Sit up for me,” he instructs, all confident professionalism again.

You tuck your knees up into your chest as you pull yourself up.

Then he reaches for his chair and tugs it around to the bedside. “Legs over the edge.”

They hang between his knees like this, and you have no escape. You’re facing him directly now. So you stare at the I.D tag on his chest as he speaks.

“Just a quick breast check. Alright?”

You immediately regret the way your eyes flash up to meet his, dropping them back to his chest as you nod.

He leans forward, right into your space, and it takes you a moment to release he’s reaching behind you to untie the flimsy little string holding your only form of protection against your body.

You grab his forearm, fingers resting against one of his many smooth scars.

His green eyes flick between your own, waiting.

Your arm drops.

His finger brushes against your bare skin as he gently pulls the thin fabric down over your shoulders.

There’s a poster on the wall behind him. A childlike drawing of a boy and a girl playing together on a swing set. You can’t make out the text. But as your doctor’s ungloved hand cups your breast for the first time, you're thinking of the last time you saw him, before all this—not as your doctor, as your playmate.

Your breathing is harder to disguise now. It’s almost more exposing than when he was between your legs. You have nowhere to hide. Your chest rises and falls as he squeezes and gropes–-examines you.

“Do you do regular self-checks?”

You shake your head.

He looks up at you. You keep your eyes fixed over his shoulder.

“You can do it when you shower,” he says. “Just like this.” His fingers press into your skin, each hand working at one breast each now. “Okay?”

You nod.

“Good g–-” His lips press together. Your eyes had snapped to his face at the word good. Quick enough to catch him stop himself.

When he stands, you assume it’s all over. You’re tugging at your gown when he settles his large hand over your wrist to stop you. Then he sits on the bed and shuffles back a little, arranging his long limbs behind you.

“Not quite done,” he says. “Lean back.”

You don’t move, unsure, despite his clear instructions. Lean back… into him?

He applies gentle pressure to your shoulder, guiding you back against his chest. And after a moment of tension, your muscles relax. This was better somehow. You couldn’t see him—weren’t forced to avoid his gaze.

But then his hand falls to your stomach, and his breath hits the shell of your ear as he looks over your shoulder at your exposed breasts. “Easier to show you like this,” he says. His large hands cup you, lifting their weight entirely from your chest. “Just wash as usual,” he starts as his thumbs brush past your nipples. “It’ll be easier when you’re all soapy and slippery. Less friction. Like I explained before. That way you can be nice and thorough. Take your time.” His grip tightens, squeezing in a way that forces you back against him. He lips brush the shell of your ear. “You can do that, can’t you?”

You nod. Then, “Yeah.” It’s a pathetic little sound. A squeak more than anything.

“Does this hurt?” he asks as he fondles you. There’s no precision in his movements now. Not like there was when he was between your legs.

“No.”

“That’s good,” he says with a hum, and you’re sure his lips brush your neck.

“I’m healthy?”

He inhales deeply, his lips touching your bare skin again. “So healthy,” he exhales. “Perfect.”

Your eyes flutter shut, and your head falls back, and you go limp. You thought you’d let your muscles relax before. You’d thought wrong.

His breath continues warming your skin as he speaks—as he gropes and presses you firmly against him. “I should do one more check without gloves,” he mutters. “Just wanna make sure.”

“Mm,” you hum, feeling entirely docile now—pliant. A passenger.

One of his hands leaves your breasts and works at the fabric bunched up at your hips, so he can slip his bare hand between your legs. He barely touches you. His entire palm ghosts over your entire cunt, cradled between your thighs. Then a finger drops down, right at your hole, tapping at your slick—playing with it. Like tapping at his keys.

“Feel that?” he says from his position over your shoulder. Tap, tap, tap. “You have such a soft, healthy, drippy little hole.” His lips press against your neck, confident now. No plausible deniability. No accidental brushes. He’s kissing your neck.

Then, without warning, he dips inside. Thick and warm, guided by all your wetness. “I know you’ve never had anything in here. But you’re made for it.” His breathing is heavy. Hot against your skin. “Feel the way it sucks at my finger?” His prods you, dipping in and out, just at the entrance. “It’s all empty. Not good for you to let it get all desperate like that.”

“I—I didn’t know.”

“I know,” he soothes. “You’ve always been so good.”

His other hand lifts from your breast to your chin, then his fingers are against your lips. He almost fumbles around a little before his thumb tugs at your fuller lower lip.

“I can help you,” he mutters, breathy. “I can get it all nice and full, warm and sticky and full. It’ll be so good for you. Like medicine.”

“Medicine?” The word comes out a little wonky, distorted from his continued exploration of your lips.

“Mm,” he hums. “Medicine.”

“Mm, ‘Kay.”

He inhales again, deep and long, with his nose pressed into your skin. Then you’re being manipulated—rearranged onto your back with a scratchy pillow beneath your head. His warm hands, one wet from slick, the other from saliva, press your thighs back so you are exposed beneath him. It’s nothing new. Your eyes meet the familiar white ceiling and you cradle one breast in your palm for comfort as his large body settles between your legs.

It’s the first time you’ve seen his face since he was sitting in front of you. It’s all different now. His lips are pinker—wetter. They rest a little apart, relaxed. All the controlled stoic professionalism has been replaced with… something else. Less tension. Less control. His movements aren’t careful and precise. He fumbles with his belt. He tugs a little at his tie, like it bothers him. And the entire time his eyes don’t move from your pulsing cunt.

You’re long past shame.

You ache.

And when he rests his heavy cock on you, you’re consumed. “Medicine,” you whimper.

His eyes snap to yours.

You nibble on your knuckle, unsure what to do with your hands.

When it’s clear you aren’t repeating yourself, he grips himself. “Pardon?”

Your hand snakes down your stomach, haulting at your mound, and curling into a fist before going slack. “Medicine.”

He leans forward, touching his leaking tip to your hole and applying the slightest pressure. “That’s what you need? You need your doctor to fill you up with medicine?”

His eyes fix on your lips as he nudges at your entrance, as you nod, as you suck your own finger into your mouth. “All right, sweetheart. Your doctor will make sure you stay exactly like this… just this perfect… give you lots and lots of medicine.” He slips up between your folds a few times, playing in all the wetness he’d worked so hard to tease from your hole and spread over you.

And when he’s worked himself inside, it doesn’t take long before he’s falling over you, before he’s muttering something about checking your mouth, before he’s mumbling about how healthy you taste around tangled tongues, before he’s grinding his hips into yours and telling you how important it is he gets the medicine nice and deep.

[calebstarfish]

VALKO THIS IS MY FIRST NEW LI EVER SINCE I PLAY SO FUN!!!

[lvmie3ree]

HAPPY JUNELEB AND PRIDE MONTH!!!! heres femleb SLURP

[baobei-bu]

hoodie

[niisancomplex]

兄が永遠に自由な鳥であるように May my brother forever remain a free bird

[moonnogginn]

I bet those post-canon heavenly meetings are.... interesting.

Xie Lian shows up reeking of ghost qi, Pei Ming is amused but Mu Qing and Feng Xin sure aren't, poor Ling Wen is still paying for her crimes, Quan Yizhen is NOT paying attention, Yin Yu reformed recently and has a bad feeling. Plus the absentees Lang Qianqiu who overslept and Yushi Guang who is living her best life and still doesn't bother showing up.

[lentejita25]

They're So Close... and Yet

[pencintaapelll]

You wake up in the back of caleb’s trunk, wyd first? 🥀

Bonus

[sleepymemo]

Drew for my one year anniversary playing lads

Xavier and Caleb hold a place in my heart, I often fall for the possessive/jealous guys and big brothers ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

[niisancomplex]

eggs

[c-dra]

Xavier and the beautiful Lady Rong 🐰

[sugarplumpearl]

I like 'em big and beefy (Caleb's version)

Beefy!Caleb x reader

Warnings: wrote this with beefy dilf!Caleb in mind (yummy), mean!Caleb, filthy!Caleb, dacryphilia, possible strength/positions that are only possible in fanfics, reader is described as having pubic hair (bush lover Caleb lives on), pnv, squirting, size kink, cervix fucking, belly bulge, piss kink?, nicknames (honey, pipsqueak, baby, little girl), overstimulation, lemme know if I missed anything!

Sylus' version

The part of Caleb's brain influenced by pure primal instinct went into overload as your difference in size was on display in the mirror before you. Had someone walked into your room, they wouldn’t have been able to see you behind his form, too broad and thick compared to yours. Even your height was the complete opposite, as the man had you on the tips of your toes, effortlessly lifting you with his cock as he slid into your warm cunt. 

With your back perfectly arched allowing your plush ass to be pressed up against him, one hand settled by the cleft of his elbow and the other stretched out behind you to rest on his hip, his eyes seemed to almost sparkle with absolute mischief and obvious adoration as he watched your fragile figure jerk from the force of his hips. Your nails dug into the soft flesh. The hand on his hip couldn’t hold him back, the need to spill his seed inside of you was far too strong. 

“You like that, honey? Like the way my cock just slips in and stuffs you full?” His jaw flexed as he groaned through clenched teeth. “Fucking hell, she sucks me in and doesn’t w-want to let go.”

You were breathless, struggling to form a proper sentence as your mind was clouded and dazed. Your words came out as a babble, chest heaving with every breath.

“C-Caleb…you’re…deep…so-so deep and big. You’re-you f-fuck so good.”

He couldn’t see your face as it was too busy resting against a broad shoulder of his. Your tits however were on display, his spare arm wrapped around your torso and under them, gave them a perky look. He had made sure to lavish them with just as much attention as he had with your lovely cunt.

The soft, fatty flesh bounced to the rhythm set by his hips. Your flesh, though marred by freshly bloomed bruises and raw bite marks, contained evidence of his loving. They’d eventually fade, and Caleb would happily take up the opportunity to mark you once more.

“So fucking pretty, baby. Your pussy’s so greedy-ngh fuck-she doesn't wanna let m-me go.” He had to catch his breath after his words had your walls clamping down around him, sucking him further in, if that were even possible. The gasps falling from his parted lips brushed against your temple, every little whine he made amplified as it went directly into your ear. “She’s greedy and filthy…just like my little girl.”

The swollen head of his dick had no problem reaching deep inside of you as it continued to brutally meet your spongy cervix, the wind knocked out of you every time they met. 

Eventually, something would catch his eye enough for the arm wrapped beneath your tits to wander. It would start with his fingers stretching down to your pelvis, the tips brushing against the bulge that formed as he bottomed out. You were too lost in the utter bliss you were experiencing to notice the protrusion coming from beneath the skin of your belly. The pressure growing deep inside of you multiplied tenfold when his palm pressed down on your tummy.

You cried as you felt as though you were about to pee yourself. 

“D-don’t. Don’t do that.”

“Oh?” Caleb’s ministrations stopped as you caught him by surprise. “And who are you to tell me what to do, huh? Think all this fucking has knocked a few screws loose. Let’s try that again.”

You giving Caleb orders never went well. His annoyance manifested in the weight he applied to your belly and the brute force behind his bucking hips. 

You became frantic, afraid of making a mess and the humiliation that would follow. 

The sinew muscles that made up Caleb’s forearms which flexed with the slightest movement he made, protected him from your manicured nails that you dug into him as a way to ground yourself. Not even your sharp little teeth could cause him to flinch as you bit down on him to quiet your cries. He was made to endure anything when it came to you, your attempts too feeble for a man like him. 

“What’s the matter, pipsqueak? Scared of making a mess like an untrained pup?” He teased, only this time, the weight he applied wasn’t letting up. “I don’t mind. As long as you feel good, I don’t mind my girl drenching my cock in her juices. I’ll lick it off the floor and your skin if I have to.”

His nose nuzzled against your damp locks. With only the top half of your face visible behind his forearm, he watched as your brows pinched together, eyes fluttering shut. 

That just wouldn’t do.

He needed to have an unobscured view of your face as you came.

Unwrapping the arm that held you by the neck to him, he sneaked that hand down to where the two of you were connected, his fingers brushing past the patch of curls on your mound until he found your tender clit. His chest was pressed against your sweaty back, your weight no longer held up by his arm, resulting in your arms reaching behind you and wrapping them around his neck to hold yourself up. 

You clung to him as your life depended on it. On your tippy toes, you’d lose your footing every so often, your legs kicking out and twisting as you felt yourself nearing the edge. 

“Caleb…please d-don’t. Don’t wanna-don’t wanna m-make a mess. S’embarrasing.”

Your whines fell on deaf ears as the man was only focused on building up the inevitable mess you would be leaving in a couple of seconds. With his fingers circling your bundle of nerves, he applied just the right amount of pressure that finally pushed you over the edge.

Arching tight like the string of a bow, his name fell from your lips as you came with a cry. Your tender walls spasmed uncontrollably before clenching down, refusing to let him slip out of your hole. At the sound of your slick spilling onto the floor, you grimaced, crying from shame and humiliation. You felt your tears escape your tightly shut eyes, cooling the flushed skin of your cheeks as they did. 

Since you refused to meet Caleb’s eyes, you failed to notice the sick grin on his face as he watched your juice drop down his fat shaft and onto his thick thighs. 

“God, you're so fucking hot. My baby’s the prettiest girl in the world. You’ve no idea h-how…” He groaned, words trailing off as his abs flexed and his jaw clenched, his seed covered your walls in a sticky white mess. “Ah, shit…take it, honey…you did-did so good for me.”

Caleb returned to holding you up and licked away your tears, waiting until your breathing returned to normal and your body went lax in his arms before picking you up and heading over to the connected bathroom. 

He easily moved around, carrying you with one arm as he turned on the water, adjusting it to the temperature he knew you liked. 

“Since you're so worried about leaving a mess, surely you wouldn't have a problem repeating what we just did in the shower, yes?”

You were too exhausted to even put up a fight. You should've known seeing you squirt just once wasn't going to be enough for him. 

The damn brute was just getting started and your cunt would be sore by the time he was through with you.

[applefishing]

mean gege fucks different. he comes out when you push and push and push, depriving him of affection all day, disobeying, stomping your feet and spitting cruel words at him when he tries to fix it, like you are asking for punishment. he drops his hips down into you, warm skin slapping against your ass with a mind-numbing feral intensity as he drives through your spasming walls.

he grinds in equally desperate measure, rolling his hips until he reaches your deepest part. he's not gentle. the force of it pushes you down into the mattress in a way that almost forces the air from your lungs. and when he holds it, buried to the hilt, he's so heavy and so deep inside that you convulse beneath him, croaking out something incomprehensible.

"where's my good girl?" he grunts into your neck as he humps your ass—thick muscular thighs tensing either side of you. "so naughty all day.... where'd gege's good little girl go?"

his fingers invade your mouth again, already slick with drool from the way he intermittently plays with your tongue. it stops you attempting to answer. he doesn't need an answer. he knows you get him riled up like this on purpose; he knows sometimes you just want to cry buried under his heavy body and forget everything else. brainless and wordless; empty entirely besides your big bother's throbbing cock.

"you like it when gege is mean, hm? such a bad girl..." he licks at your wet cheek, lapping up your tears as you suckle at his finger between sobs. "it's okay... let go. just cry for me. take gege's fat cock and cry on my fingers, mm? that's it..."

i posted a video to go along with this on my twitter

[baobei-bu]

lost souls