What if they finally got their chance to grow old together 🥺 What if they were old and happy and together 🥺 I legit started tearing up writing this. Thinking about Sylus as an old man who's finally at peace with the world just does smth to me 😭
Title from "Young and Beautiful" by Lana Del Rey
Warnings: fluff, old married couple, short & sweet, kissing, slow dancing, domestic fluff, domestic bliss
Word Count: 618
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"You look beautiful tonight."
You huff a laugh, shaking your head. "I look old."
Sylus huffs right back as he takes your wrinkled hand in his. His body shows his age; crinkled around his eyes and mouth, softer around the middle, creasing the length of his arms. But the fire that burns in his irises are the same. Bright red and burning with adoration as he looks at you. "We both look old. You're still beautiful."
You smile over at him, wrinkles around your mouth showing the years of joy you've lived. "You're still handsome."
His thumb strokes over the back of your hand, along your knuckles. He sits up slowly from his chair, knees cracking and back creaking as he stands. "C'mere," he says, taking hold of your other hand to support you.
Your own body protests and aches as you stand to meet him. It's hard to believe there was ever a time the two of you could run around with bullets and Wanderers licking at your heels. It's hard to let go of those days, too. When you could move without so much trouble, get into messes and bounce around in arcades. Some days, you still drag Sylus along to the arcade, to play the machines and complain that they've changed since you were younger, becoming more and more impossible with every greedy alteration to the machines. It's never the same. But it's no less fun.
Sylus pulls you against him, wrapping his arms around your back. With a flick of his Evol, the needle on his old phonograph drops and begins playing a familiar melody. He hums along, not perfect, and begins swaying slowly side to side.
You laugh, holding onto his arms. "You're such a sap."
In the warmth radiating from the crackling fire, you rest your head on his chest. His heart beats powerfully under your ear, never faltering even after all this time. It's a little slower now, but you'd worry he'd have a heart attack if it was the same as it once was. And overtop the beating, you can hear the rumble of his humming, vibrating through him and into you.
Side to side, side to side, swaying because you're too old to follow his steps in a proper dance, you let your eyes close and your worries slip away. He presses a kiss to your head, before resting his cheek against your silvery-grey hair. His own hair has grown a bit darker with time, but it still carries starlight in its strands when the moon shines upon him.
"I'm glad I got to grow old with you, Sy," you whisper into the fibers of his sweater.
One of his hands slips away from your waist to grab your chin, tilting your head up to him. His profile is painted gold by the fire. Warm and soft and at peace, as he leans down to kiss you. "I love you so much," he breathes, vulnerable.
You reach up despite the sting in your shoulder to cradle his face. You brush your thumb under his eye. "I love you, too. My sweet dragon."
His cheek presses into your palm with his smile. His own thumb strokes over your chin fondly. "My beautiful spouse."
He leans down to kiss you again, even as the back of his neck tightens with protest. Soon, the song will end. He'll help lower you back into your chair and he'll sit down in his right beside you. Your hands will meet on the arm rests. And some time later, Luke and Kieran will come home after working as the new bosses of Onychinus. Your perfect family, together once again. Nothing could be better than that.
This was obvious, he thought, considering how he threatened away any boy who dared to show interest in you all your childhood. But what he wasn’t prepared for was you barely being able to take the length of even his pinky exploring inside you. This was the furthest you both had ever gone; the most you’d done before this were heated makeout sessions and lovebites. So, when he finally got to see his darling pips quivering beneath him, legs spread wide and your cunt displayed to him in all its glory, he of course went straight for the prize.
He feverishly made out with it, acting like he’d missed her all his life. Just as you started to question who his true lover actually was, he exploratively poked a finger at your entrance. But the moment he tried to push it in a little, an unexpected jolt of pain shot through your entire body.
“Ah, Caleb! It hurts–” Almost like he snapped out of a daze, he looked up at you with wide eyes. “Wai– I'm sorry, did I go too far–” Just as a myriad of apologies were about to spill from his lips, you slowly reassured him. “No! It's okay, you didn't do anything wrong.” A blanket of warmth slowly creeping up your cheeks, you continued, “It's just.. I've never actually fingered myself. It hurts to put anything up there.”
You always figured it was your lack of experience, or even a lack of arousal when you played with yourself, so you had stuck to the outside, resorting to playing with your clit whenever you needed to de-stress. Until now, that is.
You saw a flash of confusion on Caleb's face before it settled into a smug smile. “Aw, pips doesn't know how to play with herself.” Inwardly, though, he sneered. All he could think about was how he could teach you how to feel good in a way you had never felt before, to have parts of you that nobody, not even you, had explored. He truly, truly got his pips all to himself. So, he made this his personal mission.
After a week or so of consistent “training,” as he called it—pulling you aside anywhere and everywhere to get a taste of you, entirely impatient in his endeavor to make you ready for him, you had finally worked up to taking two of his fingers with only a slight ache.
“I'm so proud of you, baby,” he would reassure you, again and again, cooing in your ear as he encouraged you to take yet another inch for him.
But one of those days, tired from all the work he was making you put in (though really, you just sat there and took him), you whined, “Caleb– don't you think two fingers are enough? They're so big.” Caleb looked down at you, his two middle fingers shoved deep up your pussy, juices and foam dripping off his knuckles, a mix of your arousal and his own saliva. He huffed mockingly, tilting his head slightly. “Oh, baby, trust me, they're not nearly big enough.”
Caleb, in no way, was a small man. Every part of him constantly enveloped you, and his fingers were no exception. They were huge compared to yours; if you had trouble taking your own, there was a reason it took so many sessions just to be able to take his. A part of you felt inexplicably aroused at the threat of him giving you more, but the bigger part of you was terrified. There is no way. “But Caleb, please–”
Before you could complain any further, Caleb shushed you with a hard kiss, pulling away from you entirely and releasing his fingers from your warmth with a wet squelch. You moaned at the sudden emptiness, almost clawing at him to come back. But he ignored you, busy licking your nectar off his fingers before his other hand went down to his waistband, tugging at his boxers and pulling them down entirely.
Your eyes went wide. Suddenly, all you could focus on was the sheer length of his cock, now released from his pants. You could always tell he was big,judging from the faint outline through his sweatpants whenever you had a hug too long or a touch too heated, but this? This was insanity! There is no way you could take all of him.
At that, big crocodile tears slipped down your cheeks. Caleb leaned back down to your face and comforted you, an evil smile playing on the corner of his lips. “Shh, it's okay, pips. But you agree we need to train you more, yeah?”
You didn't think it was possible. You were sprawled on your back, knees bent and thighs pinned open, with Caleb holding you down with both his hands and his evol as his thick, heavy cock was fed into you inch by inch. He knew that if he made any attempt to release you, you would make a dash for it.
So all you could do for now, as your pussy sputtered and clenched around the invasion, was lay there, more hazy than ever. With tears slipping down the sides of your cheeks, you couldn't do anything but absentmindedly whine and beg him. You didn't even know if you were begging him to stop, or begging him to shove everything deep inside you just so you could feel all of him at once.
You left deep indents in his back, nails scratching and teeth biting until you drew blood. “Ah Caleb– no more please. Ish too much !” words slurring yet Caleb did not relent, continuing his intrusion while caressing your face. “No, honey, you’re doing so well for me. You wanna make gege proud of you, no?” Your nose flared at that, your pupils completely taking over your eyes. He knew that if there was anything you wanted in this world, it was to make him proud. He knew that all through your childhood, you would do absolutely anything just to hear his standard, “I’m so proud of you, pips,” followed by him ruffling your hair and smiling down at you with pure adoration. Back then, it meant foraging flowers, helping him build things, or finishing your homework. He had always had you wrapped around his finger, and now, around his cock.
Yes yes yes yes yes yes. Feverishly now, you nodded, pushing through the pain and taking all of gege's cock, looking up at him with sudden determination. “Ca-leb–” you stuttered, the words tumbling out, “just do it! Push it all in. I need to feel all of you now, pleasepleaseplease.” Caleb bit his lip, feeling himself get even harder just watching you beg, whine, and struggle over his dick. Whatever mei-mei wants, she gets, right?
So he pushed your knees all the way back into the mattress, holding your entire body hostage as he drilled himself all the way in. “FUCK!” you screamed, tears flowing out even faster now as you arched off the bed in a mix of resistance and pleasure. Caleb’s forehead fell against yours. He whispered a ragged, “I’m so proud of you, pips,” before pulling you into a deep kiss. You moaned. That was exactly what you needed to hear. Suddenly, you ignored all the ache down there as your mind was entirely consumed by him. You could feel yourself turning into a mindless sex toy, existing only to please him,
“Caleb, please,” you whimpered, unconsciously rutting up against him. Caleb, still completely smug, challenged you. “Please what, honey? I’m gonna need you to use your words.” You couldn’t help but sob at that. Any obstacle keeping Caleb from shoving his cock into you again and again felt like the world ending. “I know you can do it, honey. Come on,” he murmured, holding your jaw and shaking your fucked-out face.“PLEASE FUCK ME, CALEB!” you finally gave in, fully desperate. Chuckling, Caleb took his place. Groving his hands into the fat of your thighs, he started a brutal pace inside you. The sheer length of him repeatedly hammered into spots you never even knew existed. For fuck's sake, you could feel him all the way in your womb.
“Goddammit, pips, you’re so fucking tight,” he whimpered, sounding like it took all his willpower not to give you his load right then and there. But between the two of you, you were the weaker link. A few more thrusts of him pushing against your A-spot, you felt a foreign sensation take over your entire body. This didn’t feel like a normal orgasm, oh, no, no. This felt way different. A pressure was building up deep in your lower belly. Before you could stop yourself, or even warn Caleb about the strange new sensation, you erupted. With a loud moan, your pussy clenched tighter than ever and squirted everywhere, making a slick mess right where you were connected.
“You’re so fucking hot, pips,” he said through clenched teeth. His eyes were blown wide, looking at all the juices you’d squirted onto him, and this was his breaking point, too. With one final, deep push that felt like it penetrated all the way through your cervix, Caleb pumped his cum into you. He slowed down his thrusts but didn't entirely stop yet; he wanted to keep forcing every bit of his load inside, not letting a single drop go to waste. He went almost feral when he saw some of it leaking back out of your hole, pulling out in a fluid motion and frantically scooping everything back in with his fingers.
Your abused hole was quivering and your body shaking, you didn't have the energy to move a muscle, so you let Caleb take care of everything from there. He noticed you had bled a little on the sheets, expectedly, he thought, but this made him feel a pang of guilt regardless. You had whiplash with the sudden switch caleb had, now looking at you with all the gentleness and patience in the world, contrary to the aggressive fucking he just gave you. You liked this though, you loved this.
♡ Bunny's Note: Thank you so much for reading, hunbuns! This piece was actually inspired by a little bit of personal experience with my ex ;) There is plenty more coming for this smut series every other day. Drop a comment or send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist so you don't miss any of the upcoming days! ₍ ᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ₎
18+ mdni | gege caleb always comes home during exam season to help u destress
TW. fingering, massages
caleb always took time off from the DAA during your exams to make sure you were taking care of yourself. as much as you argued that you were an adult and didn’t need him, he knew you loved when he babied you. he could easily tell you liked it from the way your cheeks flushed every time he brought you food, patting your head and telling his “smart girl” to not work so hard.
plus, in a way it was a vacation for him. yes he was doing way more laundry, cooking, and cleaning—but it was for you. in skyhaven he was doing the same stuff but had been constantly thinking about where you were, what you were doing, who you were with. now he didn’t have to guess.
so every time you made a joke about him being a ‘house husband’, he laughed and happily agreed, saying it’s what he was born to do. you thought the label was funny, but caleb liked it because it extended his duties, and he made sure to follow through on them.
his favourite of all was after you finished all your exams and had him work out the knots that developed from stress. he was shocked at how tense you got, spending hours upon hours smoothing out your muscles with baby oil, relishing in the little gasps you let out every time he got close to where you really needed him.
“cmon sweets, try and relax for me”
“you’re so sensitive pips”
“already squirming and i haven’t even touched you properly yet”
after caleb felt you’d been teased enough, he’d finally move his hands to your tits, pinching your nipples before bringing his fingers between your thighs, eyeing the slick forming.
“looks like i don’t need to use any more oil here” he’d tease, finally circling your clit with the pad of his index finger, cock swelling at the way your hips jumped. he never made it about him though, this was for you. his fingers only sped up after you moaned his name, begging your gege to stop teasing.
two fingers dipped into your entrance causing your cunt to immediately convulse around the intrusion, clit throbbing as his thumb pressed down. when you finally let go for him and came with a cry of his name on your tongue, he moved your thighs apart, kneeling between them before starting the process over with his tongue.
Caleb walks around like an absolute slut—not an ounce of shame in his body—when he’s covered in love bites. He loves them.
Claw marks across his back and shoulders, lipstick stains along his abs, hickeys covering his neck, teeth indents around his nipples—
His late night activities were apparent to anyone.
“Are you sure you wanna go out like…that?” you almost cringed as Caleb exits the hotel bathroom dressed for the hot springs. Duh, he looked sexy as hell, but it wasn’t unreasonable to think he looked like he got mauled by a beast.
His pride multiplied at the—in his eyes—praise from you, yet he played dumb as he approached you, his grip finding your waist. “Hm? What’s wrong with it?”
When you explained your concerns over the markings littering his skin, he only hummed, head bowing so his lips could graze the curve of your ear.
“Now, after all this time…” he rasped, placing an open kiss below your ear, “after how long I waited to have you…” another kiss to your collarbone, “why would I possibly…” a final kiss, as he straightened, to your lips.
“…want to hide that I’m yours?”
So, when he returned to work the following week, of course he made no effort to conceal the hickeys along his jaw or Adam’s apple that his uniform couldn’t quite cover. Unasked questions prompted by prying eyes were silenced from a single glance from Colonel Caleb, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t proud of the bruises.
“Had a nice vacation, colonel?” Liam asked as the duo stood juxtaposed within a Farspace cruiser’s elevator.
“I suppose you could say that,” Caleb replied in a curt manner. However, his mind was racing.
A nice vacation? Any mention of it, any kind of reminder had lewd images of you flashing through his mind… it was the best vacation of his goddamn life. All he wanted to do was fly home and get marked up and fu—
‘Shit,’ he mentally cursed.
…Now with an uncomfortable ‘situation’ in his pants, he briskly hopped off the elevator, sped to his office, and locked the door before scrambling to call you.
Caleb fucking loves love bites.
a/n: the hot spring cards are actual insanity. infold, you have my soul. thank you.
Imagine Sylus realizing you haven’t called out of work in over 4 months so he gives you a proper reason to call out the following day by fucking you to the point you genuinely can’t walk without a limp...
“I can’t… I can’t feel… Sylus…!” You didn’t even know it was possible for your legs to bend this far, nevermind that you were this flexible in the first place. His grip on the back of your thighs only grows tighter, squeezing your flesh a little harder as he applies more pressure down.
“Yes you can… you can take it… you’re going to keep taking it like the good girl you are… like the good girl you’ve been…” You can’t control the whimper that leaves you, head tossing back as he presses more of his weight down on you… into you.
The mating press is brutal, your thighs are nearly crushing your breasts at this point. Your spine curves awkwardly, your hands are digging into your calves, you’ve lost all feeling below your waist.
Except for where his cock bullies your swollen, overstimulated cunt.
Throbbing with need each time he pounds down into you, swallowing him greedily despite your babbled pleas for him to maybe ease up or slow down. You have work tomorrow, after all.
“You’re not going, clearly I’m not… fucking you hard enough… if you’re still thinking about that …” Even with his stamina, he’s panting from the exertion. Face flushed and aether-core practically blinding. The sight alone is enough to have you crying out, cumming around his cock for the fifth or maybe sixth time since he’s entered you.
summary: in with your friends with benefits with the lads guys (who want you).
ft. xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus & caleb
notes: MDNI / NSFW the boys are all pretty normal i fear (a lil toxic on some of them) but ummmmm i’m afraid you’re #superultramegaevil in these i’m sorry. no explicit mentions of gender (!!!) mentions of sexual acts, cursing, and brief mentions of injury (for reader) but nothing to crazy. again…reader you’re kinda at fault for all of these so be kind them maybe, that’s it (i think)
p.s. gulp…the contact names are changed just a tiiiny bit except for caleb’s bc of the assumed backstory! (also i don’t know why caleb’s is so long help me)
Hiiii I hope I'm doing this right 😅 can I request a combo of ❤️🤍💜 pretty please. I loved "are you wearing my shirt?" "Stay the night?" And forced proximity. With Caleb 🍎
Still you - Caleb X MC
It's raining outside, and the last thing you'd want him to do is think about heading home right now.
─ .✦ pre-relationship, takes place after the explosion™, light angst, lots of feelings
─ .✦ word count: 2.3k
꒰ ✉︎ ꒱For @smeetywerben - Thank you for the request!
It feels so different now.
Every time you look at him — your careful gaze meeting familiar amethyst eyes — for a flashing second, you think it's always the same reoccurring nightmare that appears in front of you; a picture of disaster and tragedy which makes your heart tighten and shatter into a million pieces, unable to be forgotten no matter how hard you try.
It's Caleb: smiling, breathing and living just right next to you, laughing at a joke you've just made before he vanishes in a second and is replaced with someone who tries so hard to be him, but isn't.
Those eyes you are staring at right now, for example. Why do they look just like his, but don't have that spark you've always adored? Why do they avoid your gaze when you try to search for the truth and why do they turn somber when you remind him of your shared past?
'Caleb' sometimes feels like a stranger to you. A stranger, who is desperately trying to hide a secret from you when it has been obvious from the start that something happened. And you both know the reason as to why.
"Eat while it's still hot, pips"
The plate placed in front of you looks the same; it's the exact same smell and the exact same taste and even the way he keeps trying to give you the biggest pieces on it, is just exactly how Caleb had always done it. It's the way his eyes linger until you take a bite and wait for your reaction, the way he asks "Do you like it?" even though he always knew you would.
And for a faint second, you would think it's him, your Caleb, and all the memories from that horrible day are wavering again, the anxious feeling that always exists inside of you finally seeming quiet.
But why does he sometimes look down at his own bowl and hesitates for a second, as if wondering if it's alright for him to be eating this food right now? What kind of meals does he eat when you aren't around for him to want to feed? Does he take care of himself the same way he looks after you? And what kind of expression does he wear on his face when you aren't around?
Sometimes you can't explain the thoughts that are running through your head when you look at him. Is it frustration or fear? Or is it something else that you are too afraid to put into words?
"You've stopped eating.. Is everything alright?"
'Caleb' leans forward, his arm resting on the table as his face moves closer to yours and tries to get a good look at you. Your body tenses up as you recall a similar situation to this; his cold gaze that day when you both finally reunited and you realized that this 'Caleb' was not the same Caleb that you thought you always knew.
"..n-no, it's nothing!"
Or maybe.. it's just that you never wanted to know more.
Because it's Caleb; good ol' Caleb who has been by your side for as long as you can remember and who you've always thought to be the person you are the closest to. The Caleb, who loves his drinks extra-sour and who is an expert in building his way too detailed aircraft models that make your head spin. The Caleb, who learned how to make your favorite dishes when he barely reached the counter himself, and the Caleb, who got into full-on fights with other children that liked to pick on you when you were young because he hated seeing you cry.
And the idea that this Caleb — the one you cherished like he was a part of you — could be different now, or not the way you've always loved him to be, it's just too much to handle. So you'd rather live without questioning him further, accept that new part of him like it has always belonged and maybe one day, he'll be able to tell you all that is lodged inside his heart. Maybe one day, Caleb will finally stop suffering in silence and open that part of his heart to you, because you'd like to accept all of him.
"You've barely eaten anything-"
You take a look at the two big boxes filled to the brim with leftovers, crossing your arms in front of your chest, "That's because you cooked way too much! How am I even supposed to finish all of this..?"
'Caleb' turns to look at you, a small smile on his face, "Because you won't eat enough when I'm not there. Make sure to finish all of it by the next time I'm over, alright?"
There's a small pout on your face and 'Caleb' goes to squish your cheeks with one hand, chuckling at the way how ridiculous you look, "..Alright?" he repeats, nodding at you sternly and waiting for you to answer.
"..'course I will"
"Good girl."
By the time you get out of the bathroom, 'Caleb' has already finished washing the dishes and even cut up some fruits for you to snack on. He's already dressed to leave; a jacket draped over his shoulders which means that this dreamlike day you two got to spend together is about to be over now and 'Caleb' will go back to being that person again who feels so distant to you.
It reminds you of all the times he used to leave after coming home for a long vacation from the DAA; something inside your chest always hurting as he would turn his back to you and step outside the door to be gone for a couple of months. It doesn't feel much different right now.
But when you take a look out of the window, you notice the dark clouds which have been filling the sky; loud rumblings following swift gusts which make you worry about how he's going to make it home safe when a storm is just about to arrive. Maybe it's a sign, you think, and the words make it out of your lips before you can even think about it twice:
"..How about you stay the night?"
His eyes widen for a second before he finds his cool again, and you are certain you could've seen the way his body froze the moment your words registered in his head and sent his thoughts running. 'Caleb' doesn't answer for a while; it's only the sounds of heavy raindrops as they hit the ground that fill the room and you think he's going to refuse with how conflicted he glances back at you, something inside of those eyes that beg for you to say something else.
"I-"
Something beeps. It's the sound of 'Caleb's' phone — his work phone to be exact — and the moment he takes a look at it, you notice how his eyes turn dark, knuckles slightly changing color with how tight he is gripping onto it before he responds back with swift precision.
"..W-what is it?" you ask carefully and he immediately returns your worried expression with a smile, shaking his head as if trying to tell you it's nothing. "They just said that no aircraft is flying out tonight. I.. can't get back to Skyhaven even if I wanted to"
"Well.. that's good, isn't it? I'd be worried sick if you had to leave right now in these weather conditions"
His smile feels a little strained. It's easy for you to tell, because you know that smile by heart, no matter how far he'd be standing or how much time had passed for you to forget. His eyes are saying something else, but his mouth is all you focus on, and it's fine if he's lying a little bit, because to you, it means he still cares.
"You are right," 'Caleb' says, still smiling, "I'll be taking the couch then"
"Can't we do that thing we did when we were younger?" you ask instead, feeling a little bit bashful, "There will be a thunderstorm throughout the whole night.. and you know how bad I am with them"
"You know we can't do that anymore, pips'" 'Caleb' sighs, "And what are you going to do if I'm not here the next time-"
"Just for tonight? Pleeease..?"
'Caleb' knows that tone; it's the same pleading tone that has always worked on him when you two were younger, and even today makes his heart waver in guilt of leaving you to be on your own. He wishes he could stop himself, wishes he could simply refuse your suggestion and try to look for another place to stay the night, because if he truly meant it, he knows you wouldn't be able to hold him back.
But the longer he stares into those eyes, the more his wall crumbles and he's agreeing to stay even though a part of him is urging him not to; and he's starting to worry if he's able to hold himself back anymore.
"I've put out some clothes for you to wear! It's on the counter"
"S-Sure, pipsqueak..! Thank you-"
Why does his voice sound so.. weird? Your eyebrows furrow in worry, but since you can't hear any other noise except for the shower water running, you tell yourself to ask him later instead and decide to wait in the living room until he gets back to you.
When 'Caleb' steps out, a small cloud of steam surrounding him, you've almost finished half of the apples on your plate. He looks just like he always did in your youth; brown hair still damp yet incredibly fluffy-looking, a hint of pink still on his cheeks from the warmth that had accumulated in the bath.
"Where did you even get this shirt from? I've been looking for it for a wh-" 'Caleb' halts, his eyes zeroing in on you, especially on the piece of fabric that is hanging off your frame: a familiar, yet already worn-out shirt that must have been in the wash a few times too often, "A-Are you wearing my shirt?"
You grin, taking a look down at the shirt you are wearing which happens to be one of the few ones you've taken with you when you moved out yourself; only so little, of course, that nobody would notice, but enough for you to feel like you could have a piece of him with you whenever you felt lonely. It also happens to make the comfiest sleeping shirts, you've learned.
"Looks great, doesn't it?"
"Of course it does," he plops down on the couch next to you and you can faintly smell your body wash on him — it feels unusual, but that's not necessarily a bad thing, "I've always thought all these shirts had burnt down in the explosion.. I'm glad you managed to save some of them"
With 'Caleb' around, the storm barely seems as loud as it looks to be; every time a bright flash would appear and fill the room with light, he would make sure to gently squeeze you even a tiny bit closer to his warm body, continue his talk as if trying to distract you from any worried thought that may arise in your head.
You are flushed against his body, a warm blanket draped over your bodies and for the first time, you feel like your bed has become small having you two now on it. It feels different from all the other nights you have tried to fall asleep in the middle of a loud thunderstorm and simply couldn't; like you are back in your childhood home again and Caleb is barely able to wrap his arms around your back yet trying his hardest to comfort you.
And just like back then, you can listen to his heartbeat: it's loud, rhythmic and it reminds you that he's here and won't be gone anymore. It's proof that all those nightmares you've been having are just nightmares after all.
"Caleb..?"
"Hmm?"
"Thank you for staying tonight"
He has that sad smile on his lips again; the one he's been doing a lot recently when you two spend time together and you tell him how glad you are to have him back in your life again after everything that had happened. It's eyes full of guilt and maybe fear of disappointing you; eyes that hold way more words behind them than what he actually lets on.
"Of course."
But his voice is shaking a little bit, something about the way he gently pats your back as if he's trying to comfort a part of himself as well, his hand rubbing endless circles across his own shirt.
"..you know, no matter what happened back then, you'll always be my Caleb, alright? Don't forget that"
Your voice is soft and quiet; it's about as loud as the patter of the rain against your window, barely audible to most ears, but with Caleb just right in front of you, you don't have to worry about that.
He doesn't answer for a while, simply continues holding you and for a moment, you think he won't respond anymore and act like whatever you said didn't exist — it wouldn't be the first time he had done so. But his hand is trembling; you can feel it against your back just like how his heartbeat seems uneven when he's desperately trying to calm himself.
"And I would never want you any other way."
When the first one falls, you wonder what it is.
It's warm and wet, lands on top of your head just right below where Caleb's face is, yet you can't quite wrap your head around it. But when another one falls, and one more adds onto that already damp spot, you finally realize why he has been trembling and why he didn't answer you already.
His voice is raspy when he finally speaks up and you can tell he's trying his hardest not to fall apart, "Thank you"
Your arms wrap around his body; he feels so much bigger now than in the past but it's still so familiar —so him. This is still Caleb. Your Caleb.
you wake to a gentle hand on your shoulder, shaking you delicately to gain your attention, as if afraid of harming you. you ignore it, burying your face in your covers and hiding from the intrusive figure.
they're persistent, though, and they turn you over, keeping you from curling back up into your protective ball. you whine, but comply, seeing as the strength behind the hand was determined to keep you awake.
you crack your eyes open and are met with a pair of ruby-red ones staring back at you with concern. it's who you expected, though you're not disappointed. you're just tired.
you try to push his hand off your shoulder, and he moves it to cup your face instead, running his thumb underneath your eye socket. his eyes search yours, even though you can barely keep them open.
"sweetheart," he whispers, patient as always. you won't be able to push him away that easily, even if you'd do anything you could to go back to sleep right now. you've already wasted the whole day; what difference would it make to waste a little more?
he's more stubborn than you are, though. he taps your cheek when your eyes droop closed again, and you begrudgingly open them for him, knowing he's waiting for your attention. you don't want to waste his time.
"did you take your medication?" he asks, his voice still steady and calm. you shake your head no. he doesn't respond with frustration, simply nodding and pulling your pill organizer and a glass of water over with his evol.
he presses his hand to the center of your back, gently guiding you upwards, even though you whine in complaint. "i know, i know. just sit up for me and take these without choking, then we can take a nice, long break."
you begrudgingly comply, letting him feed you the pills a few at a time alongside sips of water. it doesn't take you long to finish them, and once you do, sylus rewards you with affectionate kisses all over your face. even if you try to complain a little, he knows you love them.
the pill container and glass are gone with a swipe of his hand, and he doesn't waste a second before climbing into bed beside you, smoothly pulling you into his secure, warm embrace as he does so.
by the time he's settled, you're all bundled up in his arms, enveloped in him in one of your favorite positions. chest to chest, his hand beneath your shirt to rub your back and press you just that little bit closer. you sniffle and nestle your head into the crook of his neck, hiding from his scrutinizing gaze. he lets you.
"i love you." his words are simple, yet they convey centuries worth of longing and adoration. "you can sleep all day if you'd like. just don't shut me out. let me sleep with you." his whispers brush against your shoulder as he presses a tender kiss there. "let me love you. that's all i ask, darling. let me remain in your life."
"okay," you whisper, and though your brain is foggy from sleep, you could swear he begins to purr. either way, your mind is soothed for the moment, and you drift back off to sleep, knowing you won't ever have to do so alone.
Thanks for 69 followers lmaooo even though I'm a rare poster
F reader, porn what plot, super soft and sweet Caleb, fingering, unprotected p in v, very thinly veiled hand/restraint/size kinks, evol use, idk if all the positions make sense but it’s what my mind wanted, probably unrealistic but my goon my rules
wc: 3.2k
18+ content below
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You wake up to the warmth of a large body beneath your own, Caleb’s resting heartbeat thrumming steadily under your ear. One heavy arm is wrapped around your shoulders, pressing you deeper into his embrace. Rarely do you ever feel as content and at peace as you do right now.
Slowly, regretfully, you extricate yourself from his sleeping form. After having an internal battle over whether to stay or go, you just couldn’t pass up the chance to surprise him with breakfast. It’s not often that you’re the first one awake.
As you pull the duvet over him once more, you admire his face. There’s beauty in the hard set of the colonel’s brows, a certain nostalgic playfulness in the exaggeration of his expression when he’s teasing you, but when he’s asleep he looks vulnerable in that sort of way he doesn’t like showing. It reminds you of the many facets to his being, all yours to keep.
Running a fingertip along his cheek, over the slope of his nose and down to his lips, you linger there for a second longer, giving him a short kiss before turning away. Your legs dangle over the edge of the bed as you stretch your arms above your head, still tired but wanting to do something nice for the man who never fails to put you first.
Some days you wonder how he isn’t completely exhausted juggling not only his demanding job but also his demanding pipsqueak. He must be hiding it.
Yawning so wide your eyes water, you blearily note the sound of rustling fabric. Caleb wraps an arm around your waist from behind, sitting up to rest his head on your shoulder. Maybe you should’ve tried to be a little quieter, a little faster to leave, but you can’t be upset about the way he clings to you—you love it too much.
“Where,” Caleb says, voice a low rasp against your ear, “do you think you’re going?”
Your fingers tighten in the sheets. His morning voice always gets to you. Yet, you sense an undertone of fragility.
“I was going to make you breakfast in bed,” you murmur, one of your hands skimming over the arm wrapped around your midsection.
Caleb huffs, amused. “And I ruined it? Whoopsie.” Tilting his head into your neck, he breathes you in, and your brows crease as you try not to let something so small draw a reaction from you. “But it’s too early for you to be startin’ the day. If you get up now, you’ll want a nap later.”
You sigh. Caleb’s right. You can already feel yourself relaxing back into him as he adjusts to pull you into his lap, your body easily slotting against his own.
“Let me help you with it later, though,” you say begrudgingly.
The muscles in his forearm flex against your stomach as he squeezes you, pressing a kiss to your neck that makes you stiffen. “Alright, alright. We’ll see.”
Tilting your head back, it rests on his shoulder. Caleb’s hands drift either side of your waist, thumbs pressing into your lower back in slow, circular movements reminiscent of a massage. Your hands find his wrists with a sharp inhale, but when he hums into your skin, you let yourself slowly slacken in his hold.
“Mm, that’s it,” he whispers, and your lungs stutter around a breath.
“What’re you doing?”
Caleb’s lips twitch against your skin. “Makin’ you feel all nice and relaxed. It’s working, no?”
As if to prove his point, his hands slide up an inch further, continuing his massage, and your back arches slightly in response. His lips graze the junction of your neck before he sucks lightly on your skin, and the mix of sensations are already dizzying.
“You’re making me feel a little more than relaxed,” you huff, hands slipping down his forearms, feeling the way his movements make for the shifting of muscles and tendons beneath his skin on one arm, the other unyielding metal. It’s anatomy, a basic principle, but somehow it fascinates you in a way, makes your cheeks heat further.
Caleb grins conspiringly, grip on your body tightening. “How so?”
He soothes his tongue over the small mark he made before kissing his way to the collar of your sleep shirt.
“I feel warm, and…” you lose your line of thought, or perhaps you’re too embarrassed to say more.
“And?” Caleb prompts, voice dipping lower, hands stilling on your waist. “If you’re warm, should I take your shirt off?”
Nodding, you pull yourself upright. It’s an excuse, but you both know that. He brings his hands to the hem of the shirt, raising it over your lifted arms and tossing it to the foot of the bed. Caleb hooks his chin over your shoulder, bringing you to lay back against him once more with a hand splayed at your stomach.
“Just look at you,” he murmurs in barely concealed admiration. He grips your jaw, taking a moment to place a smattering of kisses to your neck before coaxing you to glance downward. “Look.”
Caleb’s hand is a perfect fit to your waist—you wear him like he was made for you, or maybe you were made for him, and he can’t help but feel the same way as your supple skin molds to the shape of his fingers. Pressing his palm flat against you, fingers stretched wide, he lets out a breath that passes over the shell of your ear.
His hands leave you momentarily before skirting over your wrists, drawing a slow line up your forearms, biceps, ending at your shoulders as he clutches them.
“I want you to watch as I touch you, okay baby? Don’t look away.”
You crane your neck to see his face, and when you glimpse the way he looks so breathless as your eyes meet, it stirs something low in your stomach. “Caleb…”
He simply catches your jaw once more and angles it how it was before. Anticipation makes your breath come short as you watch his palms smooth over your chest, catching your nipples in a way that makes you lean into the contact. His fingertips trace your sternum, moving lower as his hands wrap either side of your waist, sliding upwards and feeling along the bones of your ribcage. He makes it to your chest again, cupping your boobs, and you lean further back against him, the both of you trying to control your breathing.
“Please, Caleb,” you say, voice quiet and unsteady. Your eyes stay on his hands, mostly because he asked you, though the sight is hard to look away from in and of itself.
Caleb gasps, almost silently. “You don’t need to beg me, my pretty girl. I’ll always give you what you want,” he says, but you have a feeling he likes hearing you ask for it.
Caleb's fingertips skim your nipples, repeating that same little sweep of his fingers after you make a breathy sound. Just faint, drawn out touches of the pads of his fingers have you gripping his arms, the gentle, observant way he handles you making your heart flutter. You don’t even notice your eyes have closed, your body chasing his hands each time he pulls them away.
Fingertips closing around the buds, he rolls them, pinches them, does whatever will get you to go soft and pliant and needy under his hands.
“How do you feel now?” He asks, head dipping down to meet your neck. “Still ‘warm, and’?”
Nodding, your nails bite into his skin slightly as he makes out with your throat. “Ah—It’s good, you feel good.”
“Oh—”
Squirming, your legs manage to part over one of his thighs, and the pressure against your core feels relieving to the ache that’s becoming more apparent. You sense Caleb’s gaze, his muffled moan as you rock your hips against his thigh, just a small shift in your hips that feels lewd to be seen doing.
When his thigh lifts beneath you, you whine, rolling your hips far more openly, and Caleb seems to be done with whatever it is you’d started doing, quickly pulling you closer and lying back on the bed with you both on your sides, him spooning you. Palm sliding down to your legs, he pulls the top one securely over his thigh before parting his own legs, and you’re forced open with him. You tense, instinctively trying to close up, but one is hiked high over his thigh and his other leg rests over yours, pressing it into the mattress when he feels you move.
“You don’t know what you do to me, do you?” Caleb pants, and you can feel his bulge twitch against you, fingers teasing the waistband of your sleep shorts. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ll make you feel more than just good, yeah? Anything you want.”
Muttering an utterly wrecked assent, you feel his hand slip beneath your shorts, rapidly seeking out your wet folds. You both moan as Caleb feels how soaked you are for him, your breath hitching at the first glide of his fingers through your heat.
“You’re dripping,” Caleb groans, stroking you slowly.
Thighs quivering, you whimper, reaching to grasp at the closest part of him you can reach, which happens to be his arm again. You’re not disappointed. You call out his name under your breath.
Caleb slides the first digit into you, pressing up against your walls. The drag out is careful, and he pushes back in just as steadily, the depth alone reaching parts of you that your smaller fingers struggle to find. Pulling out, his finger makes its way to your clit, pressing down and making slow circles on the sensitive bud while you let out a faint sound into the thick air between you.
“Shh,” he says, lips attached to your neck, breathing you in. “Caleb’s gonna take care of you.”
“You’re so nice to me,” you reply, a little lost in his big warm hold.
A breathy laugh escapes him, reverberates through his chest into your back. “That’s right…”
And he does take care of you. After toying with your clit until you’re almost dizzy, slack against him, he lines two fingers up to your hole, pushing them in as deep as they’ll go. You moan at the stretch of him, clenching around him as he sets a fast pace, fingertips knocking against your walls, searching for that spongy spot that makes you see stars.
“Caleb, Caleb, ah—” you breathe, gripping his arm with vigour, rocking your hips into his hand as much as the position will let you. Caleb whimpers into your neck, watching the display, trying not to cum in his pants from how you’re grinding your ass over his boner each time you shift your hips. When you keen loudly, head falling back, he knows to keep angling his fingers right there, at the spot that’ll make you fall apart on his fingers.
You squirm at his relentless precision, and Caleb’s other arm wraps around you, pulling your body the rest of the way atop his own, thighs spread over his as you lay fully against his chest. Your legs tremble in an effort to shut, and he uses his evol to hold them in place. A wave of arousal shoots to his dick at how easy it is to restrain you, how you don’t fight against it .
“Cum, cum all over my hand,” Caleb rasps, voice right beside your ear, sounding almost as undone as you are. “Cum for me.”
Bringing your hand to your mouth, you bite down on your skin, but Caleb is quick to remove it, replacing it with his fingers. He shoves them halfway into your mouth as your orgasm hits, and you moan around them, back arching sharply whilst he fingers you through it.
“Good girl,” you hear in the midst of it all.
Your hips slow their movements, and your hazy stare meets the ceiling. Caleb’s hand stops moving, remaining inside you as he pulls his fingers from your mouth to trail them over your chest softly, leaving a path of saliva in their wake. Still catching your breath, you sigh as he directs his attention to your boobs again, pinching one nipple softly, teasing the bud between his fingertips.
“When I’m lookin’ at you from here, I can see what you see,” Caleb murmurs, voice close. A pleasant tingle runs down your spine. “I can feel when you move, smell your shampoo, your perfume, your scent.”
He gives your nipple one sharp pinch before moving to the other. Your head falls to face the side.
“I feel you too,” you respond. Caleb’s dick is leaking a wet spot through his clothes and your shorts, pressing against your behind. You shift your hips over him and he grunts, hand coming to hold you in place.
“Wait, baby,” he speaks in a soft voice, and his fingers start moving inside you again, setting the same rapid pace as before. Whining, your hands slam against the mattress as you try to push up, but Caleb wraps an arm around you to pull you down again.
“Caleb, hurts—” you cry out at the overstimulation, body writhing helplessly.
“You can take it,” he says, holding you tight. “Unless you want to stop?”
“No!”
“I don't want to either.”
Caleb’s evol prevents your legs from kicking out, and you feel a little like a pinned bug when there’s nothing you can do to escape him. The sensations are overwhelming, painful, but still so good, and you’re not sure whether to chase them or run away. You’re given neither option, anyway.
Eventually, you stop fighting, going boneless atop him.
“See? Knew you could do it,” Caleb breathes.
By the time he slows, you’re not sure if you want him to. He halts to a slow grind inside you, thumb finding your clit as you moan weakly. Then, he scissors your walls, and your body jolts at the feeling. A third digit prods at your entrance. You squeak as it joins the rest, a tight fit, but not painful.
“Squeezin’ my fingers so tight.” Caleb thrusts them into you shallowly. “Do you want me even deeper? Need you, pips.”
You fight the haze in your mind as you reply. “Been so good to me, Caleb. I want you to have it. Want you inside.”
Caleb nips the shell of your ear, shoving his fingers as deep as they’ll go before pulling them out, releasing his evol’s hold on your body to pull your shorts and panties down your hips. You move your legs to help him get them past your knees, kicking them off when they slip down to your ankles to the far corner of the bed.
Grabbing an unoccupied pillow, he tugs it closer and flips you both over, slipping it beneath your hips. You let out a breath as your cheek meets the mattress, going lax as he cards a hand through your hair and tilts himself to meet your gaze. His eyes are dark, but his smile is so soft, hair falling against a forehead beaded with sweat, face flushed.
“I love you,” he says warmly, pressing a kiss to your shoulderblade. “More than you’ll know.”
You watch him. He averts his gaze downward, shucks off his pants, makes a little sound as his dick is freed. Caleb adjusts the position of your thighs and slides his tip over your folds, using one hand to smear your juices all over himself, the other holding himself up, his thick bicep almost close enough to your face to bite. He starts to push himself in.
“I love you too,” you finally say, squinting at the stretch of him—it hurts, but it’s delicious all the same. “You’re… everything to me.”
Caleb looks up, gaze locking onto yours. His other arm braces at your other side, his face bowing to press a kiss to your cheek. Brows creasing, your hand finds one of his.
“Do it,” you whisper.
Shuddering, his hips slam into yours, filling you all the way, your body being pushed against the bed. Neither of you look away from each other. The sound you make is high pitched and a little pained, and Caleb summons all his restraint to let you adjust, grinding into you gently and singing your praises between breathy whimpers, even as your nails dig into his skin.
At some point, your eyes drift shut. Tension and pain bleeds out of your body, world narrowing to the warm air and your combined breaths, Caleb’s dick nudging a place high, high up inside you, his voice next to your ear. You forget everything besides him, remember nothing but the present, pulled into a world where your growing, mounting pleasure is all you can feel. You are light, warm, held.
“Oh, honey,” Caleb rasps, deepening his thrusts. “You feel good?”
You don’t know what your face is doing. The press of his hips against your own is heavenly, the sounds you make together are lewd, and through everything you find that you can’t respond to him. Caleb loves you, is making love to you, and you love him so much, too.
“Mmh, you’re so cute,” he says, expression fond. Then his breath hitches, and he sighs into your hot skin. “Sucking me in. Never wanna leave you.”
Caleb drapes his body over your own, fucking you in earnest, and you take it, grinding back against him without realising, back arched sharply. The pressure of his body against yours still accommodates both your rapid breaths. Feeling him so deep, so close, makes your heart feel full and warm. Your body parts around his dick, lets him in, accepts every inch, all he’ll give.
Your legs start to tremble as your orgasm approaches, little tremors that, alongside your pulsing walls, tell him you’re on the brink of falling apart.
“Gonna cum, gonna cum baby,” Caleb moans. “Love you love you love you…”
You don’t know who cums first, so inextricably entwined in this moment that it’s anyone’s guess. Caleb thrusts into you until you both have matching tears of overstimulation, until he physically can’t keep going on. Then, just before you pass out, he lays himself beside you and pulls you into his arms.
—
You wake up redressed in warm pyjamas, clean and pleasantly limp, to Caleb stroking your cheek. He gives you one of those smiles that make you want to keep him in your arms for an eternity.
“Hey, how are you feeling? I made us pancakes,” Caleb says, helping you sit up. When you immediately cling to him, he laughs and hugs you back.
“I’m feeling hungry,” you pout. “And I need to pee. But… I thought you said you’d let me help with breakfast?”
Caleb hums in consideration. “Oh, really? I never heard such a thing.” Leaning down, he kisses your forehead. “Besides, when have I not taken care of you? Making breakfast is a piece of cake.”
Huffing, you try to turn away from him, but he only pulls you closer. “You spoil me.”
“Yep, and I’ll have you know Caleb’s got a lot more love where that’s comin’ from, Pipsqueak,” he says, lifting you up and walking you to the bathroom. “That’s for sure.”
trying to be the wife that makes sylus cute lunches for work in the morning but the minute you try to sneak off into the kitchen, his grip on your waist is cable-like as a vise, his chin is hooked on your shoulder and half his body weight threatens to crush you.
“where are you going?”
unwilling to give up the surprise, you whisper, “nowhere.”
he scoffs. in hindsight, you could have lied better. but for now, he wins the satisfaction of keeping you pressed against him. “then you don’t have to go.”
you’ll try again. but for now, he kisses your neck and pulls you unbelievably closer. allowing the large puff of your duvet to swallow you both whole.
when he hums, you sigh. okay. lunch can wait til tomorrow.
wc: 720
gn reader, soft sylus, exhaustion, fluffy comfort!
Your day was exhausting. Too many people, too much noise, too much everything. You left feeling dizzy and strained, not even having the energy to text Sylus that you were coming over. You're sure he'll understand; he shows up to your apartment uninvited quite often, and you never complain. You stop by your place on the way to change into more comfortable clothing, then pull on your helmet and hop on the bike he gifted you.
Luckily, you manage to stay fully awake for the entire duration of your drive to Sylus's manor and park smoothly in his garage beside his favorite bike. You're sure he knows you're here by now; his security system is incredibly robust and likely identified your face on your way into his garage.
You scan your thumb on the reader, and the door unlocks with a happy-sounding chime and a little caw sound effect. You can't help but smile a little, remembering how you asked the twins to help you implement it, and how the two gleefully complied, offering to record his reaction as well.
The way his eyes widened with surprise and then softened with fondness as he chuckled still lives in your mind, the memory brightening your days. Part of you expected him to change it, but he never has. Your little project of adding small, cheery touches to his home has been going surprisingly well.
You rub your eyes as you make your way through his side door, toeing off your shoes in the entranceway and trudging forward. You check each room as you pass by, looking for signs of Sylus's presence. Empty, empty, empty… You eventually reach his study, and there he is.
He's in an ornate armchair, reading, with one of his favorite records playing in the background, filling the air with a gentle melody. You feel an incredible weight lifted from your shoulders just from breaching the threshold, causing your posture to relax and a yawn to escape your throat. It smells like him in here.
Sylus doesn't seem surprised to see you, merely placing his book aside and opening his arms in invitation with a smile. "You should have said something about coming to see me. I would've prepared you a drink."
You hum lowly in response, your brain far too scrambled to prepare anything coherent to say. You just take his invitation, crawling into his lap and nestling your head into his chest, curling into him. The day's tension melts from your frame, and from Sylus's as well. He lets out a soft sigh, pressing tender kisses to your hair and enveloping you in his embrace. He almost seems to be purring.
"Your presence is a lovely surprise, sweetie." He murmurs, pulling you closer, smothering you with affection. His kisses travel down to your neck, and he snuggles into you, the tip of his nose nuzzling into your soft skin, a smile curling his lips. "Long day? Hmm?"
You wrap your arms around his torso and whine. A quiet laugh rumbles through his chest, his hand sliding beneath your shirt to slowly stroke up and down your spine. "Alright, alright, no more teasing."
His chest is so warm beneath your cheek, his arms holding you close and insulating you from the harsh world outside. You're enveloped in a safe little bubble, free to let go without fear of judgment, free to recharge without having to rely on solitude. It's as if the universe is just the two of you, and you've never felt safer.
"Naptime?" he whispers, and you nod, cozy and drowsy, your mind fixating on the rhythm of his heartbeat and the vibration of his voice resonating through his chest. He hums, placing a kiss on your jawline. "Rest. You did well today. You should be proud."
At this, you open your eyes to look up at him, meeting his gaze. "Really?" you ask, something in your expression making him chuckle fondly.
"Yes, kitten, really. You know I don't offer empty praise." Your eyes start to water, causing Sylus's to soften tenderly. He shushes you, tucking your head back into his chest with his free hand and threading his fingers through your hair, soothing your tears.
"I'm proud of you. Never forget that. Rest well for me, sweetheart. I'll stay right here by your side."
For @gardenialily’s writing event here 💕💕 (I hope this is OK. It my first time writing for an event 😊😊)
Words: Careful. Card. Memory.
Also a birthday gift for @remnantsofgildedcages. HB pretty girl! 💕
Cw: Smut. 🔞 MDNI🔞
The soft, low tone chime of his personal tablet barely registered against the backdrop of the morning office hum, but Caleb’s eyes flicked to the screen anyway. It was a reflex born of his line of work—always monitoring, always tracking.
Usually, it was a briefing update or a system log. But the notification sitting on his lock screen made him freeze entirely, his pen hovering a fraction of an inch above the paperwork on his desk.
Transaction Alert: Skyhaven Central Bank.
Authorized User: [Your Name]
Merchant: L'Étoile Boutique
Caleb stared at it. For a second, his brain, usually so quick to calculate and react, simply stalled.
He had given you that black card four months ago. He remembers the exact look on your face—the stubborn tilt of your chin, the way you tried to hand it right back, insisting you didn't need his charity. He’d had to press it into your palm, wrapping his larger fingers over yours, telling you it wasn't charity, it was security. It was his. And by extension, yours.
Since then? Nothing. Not a coffee, not a grocery run, not a single cent. Until today.
A low coil of heat unraveled in the pit of his stomach, heavy and sudden. He leaned back in his leather chair, the paperwork completely forgotten as he swiped the notification open to look at the details.
L'Étoile. He knew the place. It wasn't just a boutique, it was an exclusive, high end atelier known for custom evening wear. The kind of dresses that clung like a second skin, made of silk that practically begged to be slid off a woman's shoulders.
The timing wasn't a coincidence. The Skyhaven Gala was this weekend, and he had asked you to be his plus one days ago. You hadn't answered, but this... this was the confirmation he was desperate for.
You were actually going. And you were letting him dress you for it.
Caleb ran a thumb over the edge of his jaw, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The thought of you standing in that boutique, picking out something beautiful, and handing over his card to pay for it sent a rush of addictive adrenaline straight through his veins. You were finally letting him take care of you. You were finally accepting the hold he wanted to have on you.
His mind immediately betrayed him, painting entirely inappropriate pictures for a Thursday morning at his desk. He imagined you in the dressing room, the smooth fabric of a formal gown slipping over your hips. He imagined the deep, plunging back of a dress, exposing the soft skin he wanted to press his mouth against. He imagined walking into that Gala with his hand anchored firmly at the small of your back, letting every elite in Skyhaven know exactly who you belonged to.
The heat in his gut tightened, turning into a restless, demanding hunger. Caleb picked up his personal phone, his fingers moving deliberately across the screen. He couldn't just let this pass. He needed you to know that he saw it.
He deleted his first three drafts. They were too forward, too loud about the possessive grip tightening in his chest. He needed to play it cool. He was a patient man, after all. He had waited months for you to use the card, he could wait a little longer for the rest.
He typed out a short, simple message.
Caleb: Just saw a notification from L'Étoile. Good choice. I can't wait to see what you picked out.
🍎 🍏 🍎 🍏 🍎 🍏 🍎 🍏 🍎 🍏 🍎 🍏 🍎 🍏 🍎 🍏
You stood in front of the full length mirror in his bedroom, adjusting the drape of the fabric over your hips.
The dress was breathtaking. It was the kind of luxury you’d never allow yourself to even look at, let alone wear—heavy, liquid silk that pooled around your feet and clung to every curve.
When you had first seen it at L'Étoile, you’d stood in front of it for ten minutes, paralyzed. You had your hand in your purse, fingers brushing against the black card he had forced into your hands months ago. “For emergencies,” he’d said “Or for anything you want. Just use it.”
But you hadn't. You couldn't. You had to be careful.
Using his money felt like crossing a line you couldn't uncross. You were already so deeply, desperately in love with him, a secret you guarded with everything you had. Because Caleb was always the perfect gentleman. He was attentive, protective, and constantly there for you—but sometimes, that care felt dangerously close to the way an older brother might protect a younger sibling. He treated you like something fragile, something to be kept safe.
You had nearly choked when you read the price, but the thought of Caleb seeing you in it—the foolish hope that maybe, just maybe, this dress would finally make him see you as a woman—had won.
When you’d sent him a picture of the dress on the hanger, your heart had been in your throat. His reply had come a few minutes later:
Caleb: Beautiful. You’re going to look perfect.
It was a nice text. A good text. But it was exactly the kind of text a supportive friend or family member would send. It didn't have the heat you were craving. It didn't give away a single hint of what he was actually thinking.
A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you touched the delicate strap of the dress. Today was huge for him and because of his tight schedule, he had to get ready at work, leaving you to dress at his place alone.
The sound of the front door’s electronic lock chiming cut through the silence.
Your breath hitched. He wasn't supposed to be back. He was supposed to meet you there, or send a car.
A moment later, heavy, familiar footsteps echoed down the hallway, stopping right outside the cracked bedroom door.
"Hey," Caleb’s deep voice called out "I changed my mind."
The door was pushed open.
Caleb stood in the threshold, already dressed in his formal gala uniform. The crisp lines of the dark jacket, the sharp tailoring emphasizing the broad span of his shoulders, and the silver accents made him look entirely commanding. Imposing.
But the moment his eyes landed on you, all of that military discipline vanished.
He froze. His hand, which had been reaching up to loosen the high, stiff collar of his shirt, dropped slowly to his side.
The silence stretched between you, thick and suddenly heavy with suffocating tension. Caleb didn't move. He didn't say 'you look nice.' He didn't smile his usual easy, comforting smile. Instead, his dark eyes darkened further, raking over you from the exposed skin of your collarbones, down the sleek, expensive lines of the silk, all the way to the floor, before snapping back up to lock onto your face.
There was nothing brotherly about the way he was looking at you right now.
Within seconds, he regained his composure, tightening his jaw as the mask slipped back on. "You look beautiful, as always," he said, eyes lingering just a moment too long. "I'll wait for you in the living room."
There it went again. That agonizing feeling of being kept at a distance. You swallowed the lump in your throat, finished your makeup, and walked out.
The ride to the gala was quiet. Caleb kept his eyes on the road, answering your attempts at conversation with polite, clipped murmurs, but the moment you stepped out of his car he anchored you to him.
As you walked through the grand, crystal lit ballroom, you could feel the weight of dozens of eyes on you. Other men noticed you immediately. Lingering glances followed you across the marble floor, and Caleb knew every single one of them. Whenever a younger officer or an elite stepped up to talk to you, Caleb’s hand would find the small of your back, his grip tightening just enough to guide you away, his voice smooth and perfectly diplomatic as he excused the two of you.
An hour into the night, Caleb was pulled into a conversation with a high ranking officer. Seeing him occupied, you quietly murmured that you were going to grab a drink and slipped away toward the grand ice sculpture bar.
"I was wondering when he’d let you out of his sight," a smooth, unfamiliar voice said beside you.
You turned to find a young man in an expensive tailored suit, looking at you with an appreciative smile. "I'm Julian. I couldn't help but notice you the second you walked in. Tell me, are you here with Colonel Xia, or—"
Before Julian could finish, the air pressure seemed to drop.
Without a single word of warning, a large, warm hand wrapped firmly around your waist, his fingers pressing deep into the silk of your dress. The sudden heat of Caleb’s chest brushed against your bare shoulder.
"She's with me," Caleb’s voice cut through the air, laced with a quiet authority that made Julian’s confident smile instantly falter.
"Colonel," Julian stammered, raising his glass defensively. "Just making conversation."
"We were just leaving for the floor," Caleb replied, his eyes holding a gaze so unyielding it felt like a physical threat. With a seamless sweep of his arm, Caleb turned you around and guided you directly into the center of the crowded ballroom.
When he pulled you into his arms it wasn't the gentle, respectful distance he usually kept. He pulled you in tight. His right hand clamped against the small of your back, pulling your hips flush against his. He looked incredibly tense, his shoulders rigid, it looked as if this important day for him was not going his way at all.
"Caleb," you whispered, looking up at him, your breath hitching at the sheer proximity. "Are you okay? Is the event not going well?"
He didn't answer right away, guiding you through a flawless turn. His eyes dropped back down to yours, the hard line of his mouth softening just a fraction.
"I'm fine," he murmured, his voice still carrying a rough edge. He looked at you, really looked at you, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to bleed out into a weary, heavy sigh. "You just... you reminded me of something tonight."
"What?" you asked, tilting your head.
A faint, nostalgic shadow of a smile touched his lips. "Do you remember your high school prom?"
You blinked, surprised. "My prom? Yeah, of course."
"Do you remember that boutique downtown? The one with the emerald green dress in the window that you used to stare at every day after school?"
A genuine laugh escaped you, the tension breaking. "Oh my god, yes. I wept over that dress. It was way too expensive, and I knew grandma couldn't afford it. I was devastated." you smiled at the memory. "But then, a week before the dance, it just showed up on our porch. I still don't know how Grandma got the money. She always refused to tell me."
Caleb stopped guiding you for a fraction of a second before he resumed the slow, swaying rhythm.
"She didn't get the money," Caleb said softly.
You paused, staring up at him. "What do you mean?"
"Grandma didn't buy that dress, I did."
Your steps faltered entirely, and Caleb had to catch your weight, anchoring your body firmly against his so you wouldn't stumble on the dance floor. "You? But... you didn't have that kind of money."
"I picked up extra shifts at the mechanics. Worked some night gigs," he said, his voice dropping into a whisper. "You wanted it. You cried because you couldn't have it. There was no way in hell I was going to let you go to that dance in anything less than what you wanted."
Your breath trapped itself in your throat. The silk of your current dress suddenly felt hot against your skin. The dots connected in your head—the way he had always taken care of you, the way he had worked himself to the bone just to give you what you wanted.
You looked up at him, your eyes searching his, desperate for him to finally bridge the gap, to say the words you had been dying to hear. The tension between you was vibrating, so thick it felt like the entire ballroom had vanished around you. His thumb traced a deliberate line across your hip, his eyes burning into yours.
But Caleb just swallowed hard and didn't say another word about how he felt. He just held you, turning you back into the rhythm of the dance, leaving you completely breathless and suspended in the space between what you were and what you desperately wanted to be.
🍏🍎🍏🍎🍏🍎🍏🍎🍏🍎🍏🍎🍏🍎🍏🍎🍏🍎🍏
The front door of his home clicked shut, sealing out the noise of Skyhaven and leaving you both wrapped in a ringing silence. It was late. The adrenaline of the gala was fading, replaced by a heavy exhaustion that only made the unspoken tension between you feel twice as loud.
Caleb slipped off his shoes first, his movements practiced and calm. The moment you leaned down to fumble with the delicate buckle of your own heel, he was already moving.
Before you could even protest, Caleb was down on one knee in front of you.
He didn't say a word. He just tapped his thigh, a commanding gesture for you to rest your foot there so he could help. He had done this a bunch of times over the years but tonight the intimacy of it felt completely different. When his warm fingers brushed against your ankle, carefully working the strap free, your heart hammered violently against your ribs.
The moment the second shoe slipped off, you muttered a breathless thank you, peeled off your coat, and practically fled down the hallway toward the kitchen.
You needed a barrier. You needed a distraction. You grabbed a glass, filled it from the tap, and drank it slowly, staring into the dark marble of the countertop. Your hands were shaking so badly the water rippled. You didn't know what to do with yourself, especially because you could hear his slow, deliberate footsteps following you.
He didn't stay at the doorway. He walked right into the kitchen until he was standing directly behind you.
He didn't say anything at first. He just stood there, watching the tight line of your shoulders, the way your fingers white knuckled the glass, and, most damning of all, the frantic, tiny pulse fluttering under the delicate skin of your neck. It completely betrayed you.
The moment he stepped a fraction closer, he saw your breathing stutter, then change completely, turning shallow and fast.
He could see the effort it was taking for you to pretend to be calm, how your eyes stared straight ahead as if you could somehow ignore him. He noticed the way you pressed your lips together, trying to stay completely silent because you knew—you knew—that a single word, a single sigh broken by his name, would completely ruin this whole innocent act you'd been playing all night.
But you had no idea. You didn't know that was exactly what he liked the most.
The act.
Caleb loved your pretty, stubborn control. He loved your careful face, the way you fought so hard to keep the boundaries up between you, thinking you were hiding it from him. You thought he was blind to it. You thought he didn't notice the way you looked at him when he turned away, or the way you flushed whenever he touched you.
He noticed everything. He had been noticing for years, cataloging every micro expression, every nervous breath, waiting with disciplined patience for the day you would finally break.
"Still thirsty?" Caleb spoke so close to your ear that the warmth of his breath sent a violent shiver straight down your spine. He didn't reach out to touch you yet, but the gravity of his weight behind you felt like a physical hold. "Or are you just hiding from me?"
You had a chance to step away. The kitchen was wide enough. The hallway was right there. You could have turned around, made a joke, laughed it off like you always did to keep the peace.
But you didn't move an inch.
And that was your first confession. Not with words, but with silence.
This was the part that made you dangerous. You liked being read by him. You liked the thrill of him stripping away all your defenses without you having to say a single word. You liked the way his attention felt like a physical hand on you—heavy, warm, and demanding—long before he even actually touched you. And Caleb? He liked watching you try to hold onto the last frayed threads of your innocence while your body practically begged him to tear them down.
His control was the dirtiest part of all.
It wasn't the hunger. Any man could hunger for you, any man could look at you in that expensive silk dress and want to rip it off your body. But Caleb’s control was entirely different. It was a weapon. Because here he was—a man standing too close, a man fully capable of ruining you right here against the kitchen counter—and he chose patience.
He was a man who knew exactly how to make you tremble, who knew he had won the moment you refused to step away, but decided to make you wait for it first.
He let out a slow, quiet breath that hit your neck like gasoline on a fire.
The heavy glide of his palm against your waist was almost a relief, but it brought no release. He wasn't trapping you. He wasn't pinning you against the cold marble of the counter. His hand was just holding the moment still. Holding it exactly where it was, long enough for you to fully understand what you were choosing.
Because Caleb didn't want fear. He didn't want confusion, or the blurry edge of an impulse you'd regret tomorrow. He didn't want a single thing your body didn't willingly surrender to him. He wanted the absolute truth.
"Say yes."
The command is barely a whisper against your ear, but it carries the weight of an ultimatum. He wants to hear it from your mouth. Honest, and stripped of all the careful facades you’d both been hiding behind for years.
You swallow, your throat dry, your chest heaving against the suffocating weight of his presence. You turn your head just enough, eyes meeting his.
"Yes," you breathe.
The word had barely left your lips—soft and entirely undone—when the entire room changed. The air got hotter. Hesitation gone. The safe, comfortable boundaries turned to ashes. Now, neither one of you had to pretend you didn't want the fire.
Slowly he lets his mouth hover just a fraction of an inch away from the sensitive skin of your neck. There is no kiss yet. No pressure of his lips, no sharp nip of his teeth. Just the heat of his breath ghosting over your collarbone.
It's an agonizing little space—the gap between what you were begging for and what he hadn't given you yet. He is letting your own filthy imagination do the work. He is letting your body ache for the contact, letting your mind picture exactly how his mouth would feel against your skin, forcing you to crave.
When his lips finally touch your skin, it's right against your pulse, making your eyes flutter closed without your permission. It was the kind of kiss that made your entire body said 'Finally' when your mouth was still far too terrified to utter the word.
Caleb feels the sharp, ragged breath you lose against his cheek, the stiff posture of your back instantly softening against his chest, and the way your fingers leave the marble counter to look for something—for him—to hold onto.
"There she is," he whispers against your skin.
This is the version of you he has been starving for. Not the careful woman who smiles politely in public and hides her filthiest cravings behind a quiet face. He wants the one underneath her. He wants the raw, undone version of you that burns just as hot as he does. The one who wants tenderness, but wants it with teeth.
He turns you around slowly until you are forced to face him completely. The front of your silk dress brushes against the crisp fabric of his shirt, making your nipples pebble. He slides his thumb under your jaw, lifting your chin until you can feel the ghost of his breath against your lips.
"Tell me what you want, pretty."
You kind of hate him for asking you that because silence is safer. But Caleb waits. He just watches you, his eyes fixed on your mouth, completely unbothered by the quiet. He can wait. He has been waiting for years, a few more seconds of you squirming under his gaze is nothing to him.
"I want more..." you whisper, the confession torn from your throat.
The way his lips finally meet yours feels like restraint died proud.
It isn't a frantic, clumsy collision. It's slow, deep and enough to make you lean forward, chasing his mouth when he pulls back just a fraction.
Caleb steps into your space, his body pushing yours back until the edge of the marble counter presses into your lower back, making you feel the hard reality of what you do to him. Until you finally understand. His control was never the absence of desire. It was a warning. It was the very last polite thing about him.
And now, it’s gone.
Once his control starts slipping, you feel it everywhere. It’s in the possessive grip of his hands gathering the fabric of your dress, it’s in the demanding rhythm of your shared breath. An intoxicating heat coils deep in your stomach and climbs up your neck, making you feel as if your entire body is blushing from the inside out. He devours your mouth, his tongue tangling with yours with an unchecked hunger that tells you there is no going back.
Every touch feels like a slow burning sin you are committing together, but it's too good to be wrong.
Because there was no zipper to quickly pull down, your dress had to be worshiped off your body, and the patience required only made his intent feel more dangerous. His hands slid over the expensive silk, tracing the exact lines of your hips, gathering the fabric up with a slow friction that made your skin flush everywhere his hands touched.
"Look at me"
You force your eyelids open, vision blurred by the weight of your arousal.
"You're shaking, baby," he murmurs, his hands sliding to your waist, the bunched fabric resting there as his thumbs move across your ribs "Is it too much?"
"No," you gasp, pulling him closer. You didn't want him to stop. You needed the friction, needed the weight of him to ground you because your mind was spinning entirely out of control. "Caleb, please..."
A deeply satisfied smile tugged at his lips at the sound of his name breaking on your tongue. "Please what? Tell me."
He was doing it again.
But you couldn't wait anymore. The slow agony of his control was driving you out of your mind. You hooked your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss, your hips tilting forward against his, begging for the relief he was withholding.
In one swift motion, his hands grab the silk at your waist and guide it up and completely over your head. The expensive dress pools onto the floor, leaving you entirely bare under his gaze.
He lifts you effortlessly. Your feet leave the floor as he sets you onto the edge of the marble counter, parting your thighs with his hips.
His mouth comes back down on yours, a demanding possession that tastes like a lifetime of starved patience. He reaches down, shifting the fabric of his trousers out of the way, his breath turning heavy and ragged against your lips.
Then, his hands grip your hips, lifting you slightly to line his hard lenght against your entrance. Your fingers dig frantically into the fabric of his shirt as your whole world narrows down to the heat of him filling the space between you.
He takes you right there on the kitchen counter, his rhythm deep, heavy, and slow. The friction of his trousers against your bare thighs a dizzying reminder of how undone you are compared to him. You can hear the uneven sound of his breathing, the low, masculine groans he can't catch in his throat.
His fingers dig into your hips to tilt you up, forcing you to take every inch of him. A tight, sweet ache coils so deeply in your stomach that it makes your head tilt back, your throat baring to the ceiling as a breathless, fractured sob escapes your lips.
Caleb immediately buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing the skin right over your racing pulse as he drives into you harder.
The rhythm he sets is relentless, leaving no room for your mind to catch up with what your body is feeling.
His hands move from your hips, sliding up your ribs to cup your soft breasts. His face is entirely tight, his jaw clenched so hard the muscles jump under his skin.
"I want you looking at me when you break."
Your thighs clamp tightly around his waist, your toes curling in the empty air as you try to pull him even deeper, consumed by the need to reach the edge.
"Cay, baby, ple-ase..."
"I've got you, give it to me."
The coil inside you snaps, a blinding wave of heat crashing over you, making your entire body lock tight. A broken cry leaves your throat as the world spins completely out of focus, leaving you floating in nothing but pure pleasure.
Feeling the pulsing tremors of your release wrapping around him, Caleb loses the very last of his restraint.
His hands lock onto your hips with a bruising grip, lifting you up and driving himself into you one last time as his own body shudders violently against yours.
He doesn't pull away. He stays right there, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his fingers slowly uncurling from your hips, leaving dark, flushed imprints on your skin, before sliding up to gently tangle in your hair. He presses one slow, trembling kiss to the damp skin of your collarbone, a gesture that feels entirely tender—but the unyielding weight of his body still holding you to the counter makes it beautifully clear that everything has changed and you'll never be able to pretend you were just friends ever again.
SYNOPSIS. Couple-goals with matching Halloween outfits for a party? Hell yeah, sign him up! But don't blame him if he can't control himself around you. I mean, just look at your scarily sexy outfit!
A/N; DID SOMEONE SAY BACKSHOTS??? I DID! this was originally a request I got a while ago for the guys giving backshots, decided to add a lil Halloween twist to it for my kinktobr!^^ I'm a lil' sick so sorry if this kinda sucks, still hope you can enjoy it <3
TAGS; MDNI. explicit content. doggy(duh). dirtytalk. the guys are lwk brattamers. spiting(Zayne). hair pulling(zayne). clit/pussy slapping. Sylus calls u kitten. slight cringey roleplay in some. nicknames. slight exhibitionism in calebs and rafs. breeding. size kinkkkk. overstim. caleb is a fucking mess. raf kinda nasty for fuckin u on a strangers bed lol. slight degradation/humiliation/dumbification. dacryphilia(?). they literally fuck u dumb.
SATRS K!NKTOB€R 2025!
꩜ ZAYNE .ᐟ Talk Shit, Get Split!
"Say that again."
His growl rings, voice already wreckingly weak, fingers already working with the tight red latex dress to roll it up your hips, "Say what you just told me, you damn brat."
Zayne's breath is hot at your shoulder, headworn halo tickling right below your ear, his hands already gripping your hips like he owns the dip of your spine, the curve of your ass, the pretty little pussy glistening between your thighs.
And if you ask him, he does.
His cock twitches against the inside of your leg, thick, heavy, leaking against your skin, eager to spear your unsuspecting cunny apart.
"S-said I want you to—"
Wham!
He grabs a fistful of your ass, spreading you open to get a full view of the slick mess dripping down your folds. You hear the sharp inhale he takes as he stares, hear the way his voice drops when he speaks again.
"You're not even wearing panties. Unbelievable," Grumpy and mean voice so unusual for him but yet so attractive to you, "Little devil can't wait to have this dick inside, hmm?"
Your mewling 'yes' comes out in a shaky moan, decorative devil horns swaying with each wiggle of your head, barely sitting fit at the top of your already messy hair.
And he dares to laugh so meanly, hand squeezing the fat of your ass.
"I know you do."
He's all riled up now, mumbling his words so rushed, so sloppy, spewing away without a second thought, all of his common sense and decency gone.
"Darling's taking her costume reallyyy serious," His cock's skating over your slit, thick crown slipping through the slickness before catching at your gasping hole, "Better be ready then."
You gasp at his lewd tongue, shocked at his sudden change with your trembling hand flailing backward, blindly reaching for his as if that would steady you.
"Z-zayne! We're already late to the party! We gotta—"
Only for him to cage your dark red gloved arm behind your back and yank the other one with it, trapping both in one large, veined fist.
"A-all I gotta do is give this vicious pussy what she's begging for."
With that, he's already forcing his bulky head through your slick hole, ignoring the sharp pain of your red heels digging into the side of his thigh.
He doesn't even flinch, doesn't even care about the stupid Halloween party you'd begged to attend, the one you should've been attending about an hour ago.
There's no way that damned party could even be a piece of dust in his mind after this outfit of yours, stepping out like a vixxen, heels click click clacking towards the hallway, only for him to pull you back into the bedroom where you are right now on all fours.
All that exists now is the obscene sound of your slick walls greedily swallowing him, both of you lost to the greedy rhythm of your body sucking him in.
He slams to the hilt, spot on your gushing spot in one brutal ram, and your entire body jolts forward from the force. Hands wiggling against his tight hold as your head hangs low, mouth falling open on a strangled cry.
"Fuuuuck," he groans, hips grinding into your ass as he grows dizzy from the tight hug of your pussy, cheap angels wings of his already loosing feathers from his movements. "Your pussy's just as slutty as your costume."
"Z-zayne! It's not slutty!—"
He disagrees with slightly loosening the grip on your wrist to make him slide out to the tip, before yanking you back, stuffing you with all his girthy inches.
"It's not? What's up with your panties then?"
"Forgot! I— nghhh! I forgot them," you lie though a bitten bottom lip, already knowing that he's not going to buy it.
"Bull. shit."
Deep and so fucking mean, snapping his hips against your stinging red ass with each syllable, free hand threatingly kneading at your ass, spreading it wide so he can watch his cock stretch you open over and over again.
Your pussy's fluttering already, slick gushing down your thighs from the relentless pounding, staining the sheets, eyes rolling as he ruts right into your cervix.
Fat globber of spit forms at his lips and he spits it down, spattering right onto your swollen, stretched-out cunny, nastily smearing it across the swollen rim with his ruthless thrusts.
"Arch that fucking back," he snaps, hand firm on the back of your head, pushing you deeper into the mattress. The devil horns that completed your costume lie discarded and forgotten beside your cheek, "Proper."
All it took was a simple devil costume, and suddenly your usually put-together, uptight doctor husband is wrecking you into the bed like he's the one with the horns.
Maybe you'll have to switch the costumes up next year.
His rhythm only gets more evil, hips slamming into yours with wet, obscene smacks that echo off the walls, headboard rattling.
"Now that's right," his fist tightens in your hair, forcing your face deeper into the sheets. "And you better thank me for it."
"H-huhhh?"
Babbling, mindless mess you squirm helplessly, arms straining in his grip, whimpering for him to let you move, even though you know they'll just fall flat to your sides if he does—
Smack!
It's sharp, your cheek recoiling against his broad, punishing palm smashing down ruthlessly, and you're sure you'll have trouble sitting down after this.
" Did my wife go dumb on me already? Come on. Say thank you, husband."
Just when the words tumble out of your drooling mouth your eyes roll back, pussy clamping down on him as your orgasm runs through your body, squirting all over, coating his cock in your juices as you shake violently in his ironclad hold.
"You're very welcome, my dear."
Only for his hips to snap harder, grinding deep at your gushing spot, over and over again, until your vision sparks white and your body just won't listen to a single thing your're trying to do.
"Sooo addictive," he mutters, almost like he's talking to himself, hand releasing your wrists from his bruising grip now, falling limp to your sides. "Still want more. C-can't get enough."
He pulls out just long enough to slap his cock against your soaked, trembling folds, once, twice, angel's halo falling to roll over his barely recognizeable worn wings and onto the floor.
Dragging you back to meet each brutal thrust, your ass jiggles with every hit, red from the spanks, sticky from your release, causing him to get even more erratic, close to his end himself.
"Do you want it?" he gasps, hips stuttering almost comically, "Want me to fill my gorgeous wife up?"
And the weak pleading whine you let out gives him strength for only one, two more brutal slams, grinding all the way in, cock buried to the hilt as thick ropes of cum flood your pussy.
You try to push yourself up shakyly, only for your husband to drop his weight on top of you, chest pressed to your back, cock still buried and twitching out small whisps of cum.
"Oh darling, I hope you didn't think we're done," he kisses your shoulder, and with the possesive bite he plants after, you already know that you'll never get to set foot into that party today.
"We're gonna keep going until we knock the devil wide awake."
꩜ SYLUS .ᐟ Mrs. Miauttitude.
"We'll be late,"
Sylus remarks against your nape, finger teasing the outline of your soaked pussy through your panties. Voice calm, almost amused, waiting to see how far you'd go, "Are you sure about this?"
His fancy pants already hang low, uptight outfit more of a lifestyle than a kitten master outfit to him. His tie is loose, hard cock already leaking, jumping each time his eyes glance down towards your folds damn near sucking your panties in whole.
"J-just— fuckkk. Quit talking and get to it, Sy."
He hums with a stretched grin, finger teasing the hem of your panties. "My, my. And here I thought I was the kitten's master tonight."
"That only counts at the party," you bite back, ass wiggling impatiently, glued-on cat tail swaying, and you swear you feel his cock twitch against your thigh at the sight. Turning your head just enough, the little bell on your kitten necklace jingles, a delicate sound that makes his eyes snap to your throat. Your brows pinch, wordlessly urging him to move faster. "We're not there yet."
"Commanding little thing, aren't you?" Hands sliding up the backs of your thighs, traveling up to knead into your hips, "If you're giving the orders now, then tell me, what do you want? Because I can't quite put my finger on it, sweetie."
"Godddd, I hate you."
Riiiiip!
"I'm sure you do," humoring you, his hand rips your panties to shreads, lips press against the small of your back as your folds shine, cunny clenching in impatience. "You hate me so much you're wiggling your ass like some kitten in heat. Oh, wait."
Rich laugh follows, and your frustration spills out in a obscene whine. One of your heels hooks around his thigh, pulling him closer until you feel the hard length of him pressing against your soaked cunt.
Goosebumps arise on your skin under the weight of his breath, and he notices, like he always does. His smirk curves wide against your shoulder as he winds forward, thick bulky head of his cock slipping between your folds, catching on your clit before trailing up and nudging at your entrance with agonizing pressure.
He's fucking hung. Always has been. But right now, his slow slip and slides, teasing nudges at your shrieking hole are unbearable. If he doesn't fuck you right now, you'll—
"Open wiiiiide, kitten."
Thank god.
Moaning in satisfaction as your walls stretch wide around the thick head of his cock, the first few inches alone causing your arms to shake, fingers digging into the expensive silky sheets.
His palms smooth over the curve of your hips, gripping as he drags himself an inch deeper, then another, and another, stretching you further. "Goood. You almost got it, sweetie. Taking me so well."
Buried to the hilt, every thick inch inside you and he's deep. So deep it feels like he's stirring your guts, tip reaching for your lungs. Your fists twist the sheets tighter, knuckles white, and the shameless chuckle he lets out makes you want to turn around and—
SMACK!
Yeah, about that.
His palm lands hard on your ass, the sting making you jolt, setting a pace that's sharp, deep, each thrust shoving you forward, overstretched cunny squelch squelch squelching around him.
Wetness splashes down his thighs with every brutal snap of his hips against your ass, the lewd sound filling the room, drowning out even your breathless cries.
"Congratu-fucking-lations,"
It's scary how steady his voice is despite the way he's driving into you, one big hand staying firm on your hip, dragging you back to swallow him whole over and over again, deep arch of yours making him hit every sweet spot imaginable, "Look where all your talking got you."
You sob into the sheets, cunny stuttering around his breathtaking girth, bell on the collar ring ring ringing with each harsh thrust of his. It only makes him groan in delight, drunk on the way you're greedy pussy's trying to milk him.
"You wanted this, begged for my cock, even," Sylus leans down, his lips grazing your ear even as he pounds you deep into the matress, bed crying out in pain, "So don't you dare back out now. You're taking it all, honey."
"Syyyy'!—" You sob, hicups only making his cock sweel inside you, tip failing to keep his pre locked away so it serves as lube inside, "Shoooo— hic! shooo big!—"
"You can handle it."
He leans back up, silver brows knitted tight as his lips part, exhaling slow through his nose. His hands are steady as he grips your hips, adjusting you like a doll until your spine bows deeper, forcing you open for him, "My big girl always does, no?"
"Arch it more, sweetheart," he spits out before you can even register his words from before, already pushing you down himself, slam slam slamming his thick tip punching right at the entrance of your womb, each strong drive making your vision blur, mouth falling slack.
"Syyyy'— Syyy'!— hic!— yer'— m'— h-hahhh!"
"Oh?," Teasing, one sly brow rises, heavy set of balls smacking your poor clit raw with one particularly harsh ram, "What's wrong, dear? Forgot how to talk?"
His hand slides between your trembling thighs, fingers finding your cute, swollen clit, tracing it in firm circles, every motion syncing perfectly with the obscene roll of his toned hips against your reddening ass.
"Let's get you to screaming then."
The circles grow faster, more percise, then—
"Poor baby. Here, I'll help you."
Slap!
You cute clit shrieks just like you, cry caught in your throat as his hips slam into you. Your ass feels like it's on fire from the repeated smacks of his hips and palm, it's too much.
And yet so damn good.
With a wail you cum, body shaking, bell rattling with it, thighs quaking with that little cute tail shivering as your orgasm tears through you, blinding your sight with a black canvas as your eyes screw shut.
"Seeee? I knew my good darling wife could make it."
Your poor stuffed cunny clamps down hard, dragging groan after groan out of your struggling husband who's fucking you through your pleasure ride with grounding pets to your spasming g-spot.
"Syyyyyy, we have to— have to g-goooo."
Before you can catch your breath, he's back at it again, gripping your weak hands behind your back once they scramble to pull yourself up on the sheets and crawl away, each stroke raising the clicking bell and your whimpers an octave higher.
"Not so fast, kitty."
He flicks at your collar, bell ringing in a shrilling tone, causing your eyes to snap wide open, free hand working with his loose tie to cage your wrists with it.
"Going now when the fun starts? Even trying to run away? C'mon, don't be a killjoy," he muses, chuckling as you try to wiggle away from his menacing pounds,
"You still need your milk."
꩜ XAVIER .ᐟ My, my, what a Big...
"Not so jolly anymore, huh, angel?"
He murmurs behind you, honey-like voice brewing with wicked intend, hood of his costume hanging low over his eyes, "Finally noticed the big bad wolf?"
You open your mouth to reply to his cringy comment, but nothing comes out. Just a trembling gasp as you feel his cock hit your dripping folds, his hand gripping your ass, spreading you open.
Your hands hold tight onto the sink, anxiously glancing over to the door, faint music from the party slipping in through the cracks, ocassional steps ringing dangerously close to the door, unsuspecting of the nasty scene unfolding in the bathroom.
"Don't bother answering," he sighs as he slides his tip down to your clit, grunting as the tight pulses of your cunny catch his sensitive tip. "Loud fucking pussy's telling me alllll I need to know."
You're dressed up as Little Red Riding Hood, hood slipping down your back, dress bunched indecently high around your waist, his cock shamelessly gliding through your sticky folds.
All it took was one guy, one careless compliment from him about how cute your little red hood and tiny dress were, and just like that Xavier had you pinned in the bathroom, the party still booming just outside the thin door.
"You just had give him that cute lil' smile with that cheesy 'thank you', right? You—"
"Xav'! Drop it! Just— p-please," you mewl, nails digging into the sink for balance, the sound of your hole stretching around his intruding tip filthy against tile in a loud squelch.
"Please what, baby?"
"Want you to fuck me," tears threatening to prick your lashes in frustration, glassy eyes staring back at his hazy ones through the mirror, "Pretty please."
Ohhh, you don't have to tell him twice.
He slides past your protesting hole in one swift push and you see stars, walls stretching wide, every cell in your body trembling as he buries just a few inches— one, two and three.
And already, it feels like too much.
You whimper while rising to your tippy-toes, pussy squeaking around his cock as he ruts deeper until his base smacks firmly against your ass.
"Is this turning you on?" he taunts, stilling inside, letting you feel the heavy twitch of his cock pulsing in your velvety tunnel, gluey pre sticking to your walls, breath ghosting your ear, "Getting fucked while people are just outside that door?"
You choke on a cry as your hips jolt on their own, voice threatening to break. He fits so impossibly deep you can't breathe, and you swear you can feel him everywhere.
"Nawww", he muses, hips snapping forward suddenly in a punishing manner, jolting through your core as sparks scatter behind your eyes. "Where's that cute little smile from before? Can you spare one for me too?"
"Xav', you can't seriously be j-jealous over a polite—"
"I can, baby. You already know me."
His hand snakes under your red cloth, palm full of your tit, squeezing rough as he pounds into you hard. The cabinets bang against the wall with every thrust, unknown bottles rattling above the sink. His teeth catch your cape, pulling it down to acess your naked neck, grazing it as if contemplating if the mark there would be visible enough.
"I'm a little crazy."
Each long and fluid stroke gliding deep, then pulling back to the head before slamming in again with a rhythm that's maddeningly precise, leaving you no room to think, to breathe.
Pace quickening now, the sharp slaps of skin on skin as your ass bounces against his hips damn near compete to the blasting music outside, his cock carving out space inside you with every thrust.
"Feels good?," he pants, breathy chuckle right beside you, "You're gonna cum all over me while that fucker sits outside dreaming about this— f-fuckkk!— right?"
You nod desperately, mouth open in a soundless moan as you feel your orgasm approching dangerously close, already tasting it at the tip of your tongue.
Just like that, your vision goes blank, body tensing up as your orgasm hits you like a truck, toes curling in your red dolly heels as your legs threaten to give out on you.
He fucks you through it, menacing thrusts that wring every sound out of your throat, that keep your body shaking and your mind spiraling. Your poor cunny cries out, desperate for more even as you're at the brink of falling to your knees.
Your nails scrape at the counter, sweat dampening the thin red fabric of your dress. The booming bass of the party outside rattles the door, people laughing, shouting, oblivious to the mind-numbing orgasm that just shot through you.
"Want me to fill you up?"
His voice is hoarse, dripping with restraint, his lips brushing your ear before attacking your neck with marks again, his cock dragging in and out of your now raw walls.
Your head lolls a broken nod, voice long gone. Only a whimper escapes, hips jolting every time he buries into you. You don't even have words left, just raw need.
He slams in hard, holding deep, twitching inside you, "Then take it," Groan rumbling against your back as he spills, thick pulses of cum shooting into you.
He grinds his hips against your ass, forcing himself as deep as possible, making sure not a single possesive drop goes to waste.
Only when he's sure you've taken it all does he finally slide out, cum following suit, threatening to spill.
But he's quick, hand already sliding your ruined panties back up to catch the mess, satisfied hum leaving his spit-coated lips.
He tugs your dress back into place with a careless yank, watching you wobble against the counter.
"Better fix your dress, baby," He's all smiley now, wolfish— how ironic— fixing his own zipper, eager to push the door open and waltz back out,
"Wouldn't want the whole party knowing that Little Red's stuffed full with cum."
꩜ CALEB .ᐟ Bunny Hop!
"F-fuckin' finally."
The second Caleb's cock slips past your wet entrance, he already lost.
And he fucking knows, because he catches a glimpse of himself in the foggy bathroom mirror, tie already hanging loose because of the thick air, white bunny ears threatening to fall off his head before his brown hues snap down to your flushed face, and he pauses just long enough to adjust your black bunny ears so they don't topple over your glazed eyes.
Could he have waited until you got home instead of dragging you into the bathroom here, shoving you against the sink, and rutting into you like a dog in heat? Sure.
But did he want to wait?
Nahhh.
Not with your little bunny tail brushing against his stomach every time he slams into you, your tiny black leather skirt hiked up, claiming your figure so tight, the flesh of your hips spill from it's sides. Not with your cunt so tight and wet it feels like you're milking him for every drop he's worthy of.
Hips pistoning forward greedily, his hands splay over your hips, dragging you back by the skirt with his mean fist to meet every thrust as the porcelain rattles beneath your palms.
"Pips. Pipsssss'," he whines, voice drenched in honey, "Ohhh, pretty little bunny, lettin' me fuck her dumb in the middle of a party", the mirror fogs thicker with every ragged exhale, every smack of his hips against your ass, every choked sound he wrings from your throat.
"Yer' pretty lil' head can't even imagine how hard I've been ever since we got here," His chest is pressed hot against your back, teeth nipping at your earlobe as he talks through gritted teeth, "Thought about bending you right over that fuckin' pumpkin table runner."
KNOCK KNOCK!
"Hellooooo? Some people are trying to pee here!"
Words can't describe how he has not one fuck left to give right now.
"M' busy."
He just clicks his tongue, eyes rolling back in sheer frustration as though this interruption is the real crime, not the way he's fucking you stupid in the bathroom at a Halloween party.
One hand leaves your hip, clamps firmly over your mouth just as your moans spill free, palm muffling the sounds, his thrusts making it only harder for you.
"Shhhh. Just keep quiet for a sec', yeah? If ya' don't, we'll have to stop, and you'll have to wait alllll the way 'til we get home," His other hand releases your skirt now, sneaking down to give your clit a warning smack! "We don't want that, right?"
Desperation makes your whole body tremble, eyes squeezing shut as you shake your head a violent 'no'. A muffled cry seeps against his hand anyway, your pussy tightening around him in a desperate attempt to shut yourself down.
KNOCKKNOCKKNOCK!
Heavy set of knocks rattle the flimsy door, "No you're not! You've been in there with your girl for over ten minutes!"
Caleb snarls, slamming deep enough to jolt your hips into the sink, his hand pressing harder over your mouth. "Read the fucking room and f-fuck off," he barks back, sweat dripping from his temple, thrusts turning hard, bruising your cervix. "I'm tryin' to bust a nut here, man."
Muffled moan break into a sob, your ears burn with shame as the stranger huffs before stomping away.
Uncaring, Caleb chuckles against your ear, only needing to hear the spashing of your wet pussy around him and the desperate little whines you're trying so hard to swallow.
"See? He can wait. But we can't. Nahhhhh, we can't."
His hips get erratic, unraveling with every tiny squeeze of your pulsating cunny, quick to release your mouth only so he can grab you by the nape and crush your lips into his, tangling in a kiss that steals the little air you had left.
"Nooo, we can't, baby—" he's babbling mindlessly between moans and sloppy kisses now, "Not when yer'—fuckkk, fuckfuckfuck—so fuckin' tight." His forehead falls to your temple, sweat dripping down as his groans dissolve into your mouth, swallowing every cry you dare let to slip out.
Teeth graze your swollen lips, then he draaaags them, biting down just enough to make you gasp, only to swallow it too.
"Shit, you taste so good."
Panting, his voice cracks, breath hot against your lips as his cock continues his assault on your cervix, "C-c'mere, gimme another kiss. M' c-close."
His mouth smashes back onto yours, and he doesn't care who's outside, doesn't care that you're both going to leave this bathroom with ruined outfits and bodies.
He just needs more. More of you. Always.
His hands clutch your hips, pulling out just a fraction and slamming back in, thick cock pounding into your soaked pussy as it twitches, balls clenching up tight as he's so close to—
"M-me too, Cay'! Gonna— hnghhh!—"
You whimper, hips meeting his thrusts, clamping down so hard around him he can't help but cum right then and there, hot fresh whites shooting right into your womb, every pulse filling you as his broken whimper is muffled against your lips.
"Fuck—don't stop, p-pleaseeee," He begs against your swollen lips, whines spilling just like his sensetive tip its last nets of cum, "I'm—h-hahhh! Yer' so good, too good ta' me, baby."
His lips trail down your neck, sucking and nipping, groaning into your skin as his hands roam your back, fingers finally digging into your plush rear.
He buries his face in your hair, inhaling your sweet scent deep, fingers clawing at your hips and ass, "C-can't stop, I can't stop— f-fuckkkk! Can't take it."
You can't help but sufforcate his dick in a headlock again, drawing out a broken moan from him as he bites his lower lip, jaw clenched tight, "Cum for me—please, pips. Pleasepleaseplease— Need ta' f-feel ya— o-oh."
One last thrust and a loud squelch! resounds, spilling the drool of your cunny all over his sensitive cock, clenching him so tight he thinks he might pass out any minute now.
"Yes. Yesyesyes— shit!— M' sorry, m' so sorry, baby."
You know his warning is just mindless blabbering as his own release crashes through him again, coating your cunt in white strings, head falling into the crook of your neck to moan and drool all over your skin, hips rutting strict against you.
Despite his cock aching from overstimuation, already falling limp inside you, Caleb still needs more.
He'll never get enough. Ever.
"Gotta— gotta clean you up," he mumbles all pussydrunk, scrambling down to his knees urgently. He spins you around, lifting your leg over his shoulder with ease, crazed, puppy eyes meet yours while your and his bunny ears droop low from the mess.
"My lil' bunny," he rushes, nose already nudging at your clit, spent cock twitching as he watches his cum ooze out of your stuffed hole, cock already twitching to life again,
"Can't go outside all dirty."
꩜ RAFAYEL .ᐟ PharaOH!
"Bend over."
"Raf, we don't even know who this bed belongs—"
"Cutie, don't do this to me right now. I need you to bend that pretty ass over for me."
There's no room for argument.
He's needy, you can tell. No teasing tone, snarky comments or cheesy grin, just pure hunger lingering behind his blown-wide pupils, impatienance written in bold letters across his face.
"A-alright. But don't get all crazy."
He watches in awe as your crawl onto the bed, bandages wrapped around you in your mummy fit, dangling down your arms and thighs, scraping the sheets.
Now he's on you, every inch of him radiating heat under the Pharaoh costume he looks far too good in. His hand snakes out, catching one of the trailing bandages at your hip to give it a hard yank as the strip pulls free, your skin peeking out through the gap.
The light make-up under his eyes crinkles as he squints his eyes shut, trying to keep his swelling cock from drooling out pre into his boxers.
Another sharp tug, another strip falls. He uses the slack bandage like a leash, twisting it around his fist, pulling you back, sharp outline of his cock pressing right onto your clothed clit so you can feel exactly what the costume's been doing to him.
"Do you have any idea," his fingers find comfort on your hips, sneaking through gaps of bandage to hold you down tight, hard cock already rocking against your covered pussy, "what you've been doing to me all night? Walking around wrapped up all pretty like a gift."
"Well then, unwrap me, Phara— Oh!"
Your teasing's cut short when he jerks one of the bandages loose and uses the length to lash your wrists together behind your back, head falling into the sheets as you loose your balance. The soft fabric bites into your skin as he knots it tight, pinning you in place.
"You think I'm joking, huh? Think I'm just all talk?" Quick to let his cock spring free, free hand hooking a strip wound tight around your thigh, riping it apart to be met with your glisterning folds, "And she used the bandages as fucking panties, f-fuck."
The thick, drooling head of his cock drags between your folds, smearing his pre over every inch of you. He gives a single experimental thrust, just to let his fat tip slap! against your clit, sticky and loud over your wails.
"G-gotta stay true to my costume—hnghhh!" Words at terrible timing, pussy clenching as his bulky tip catches onto your gaping entrance.
"Yeah," he groans, clicking his tongue, blunt head of his cock sliding in, driving riiiiight into your sweet spot, " you're staying true to it alright."
The sound is so obscene, it makes you whine in embarassment, scared that someone from outside might catch onto the flithy act you're up to right now, a wet, messy splash! filling the room.
He fists the knotted bandages at your wrists and uses them like reins, yanking you back onto his cock with a sharp thrust that makes the mattress squeal in protest.
Smack smack smack— his hefty balls slap your clit, hanging heavy, unable to focus his eyes on one single thing. Well, how can he when there are your gorgeous curves spilling through the gaps of the tight bandages, your ass recoiling with each thrust of his or your honey-coated moans ringing in his ears.
"Cutieeee, you're killing meeee," he whines, hips stuttering as his fists tightens, "Pussy's griping me so— h-hahhh! And look at that ass bounce— ohhh, think I've died and gone to heaven."
"N-no, Raf'," you gasp as his tip gives your womb a sensual kiss, spine arching for him to hit deeper, "we're in some stranger's bedroom—"
"Who caresssss," He pulls back an inch, just enough to hear the wet drag of your walls clinging to him then slams back in with a loud squeeelch!
"J-just focus on me, baby."
"I c-can't— Ouhhhh! You're gonna— break me! S-so deep!"
"That'sss right. You like it, huh?" hips drive into you with messy force, releasing the bruising grip on your wrist to instead grab hands full of your ass, "Like getting ruined like this, you greedy fuckin' girl?"
Answer disolving into something unknown as drool slots from your agar mouth, your upper body falls flat into the matress. Instead, you nod frantically, mouth open, drooling into the sheets as your back arches on instinct.
"Yeah?" His hips snap into you, straight up bullying you now, "You want me to break you on this dick?"
"Yes! yesyesyes— please—puh-please!"
"Huh. You've really gone dumb on me. Pathetic if you wouldn't be so damn cute."
Your orgasm builds, clawing around your insides until it hooks it's claw right into you, tearing you apart.
"F-fuck! 'M gonna—!"
The hot mess hits, your vision going spotty as it tears through, sobbing and choking his cock so hard he nearly doubles over.
"Holy shit, it's coming, t-think 'm gonna cum too—" his head tips back, a whine breaking out of him, "Ohhh, y-yes, yes I am— shiiiit! shitshitshit—"
His hips stutter, sloppy now, chasing your high, rutting through your aftershocks as one hand fumbles up your front, grabbing your jaw and tilting your head so he can kiss you messy, swallowing every moan, drool and whine from you.
Right then cum shoots deep inside you in thick, pulsing waves, his moans so loud they echo. One hand fists in your hair, the other clutching your ass as his hips twitch with every pulse, grinding every last drop into you.
And he doesn't pull out, won't, only lets his hips give little, messy thrusts as he rides the aftershocks, forcing his cum deeper inside your grateful cunny.
Suddenly, the door frantically rattles, startling you as you watch the doorknob twist and turn in horror.
"Who the fuck's in my bedroom!? The party's over, get the hell out!"
Voice snapping through the air like a whip, only for Rafayel to shoot you a smug grin, quick to force you upwards, pressed up right against his chest.
"Perfect timing."
His hips pick up their sharp pace again, dragging out another long thrust that makes your head fall back onto his shoulder. And he watches you with his preying eyes, completely drowning out the loud knocking and screaming on the other side of the door.
And right in this moment you curse yourself, because you should've known better than to bend over this bed tonight, should've known that your shameless boyfriend would fuck your brains out longggg after the party ends.
Without any sign of stopping.
"Let's piss him off a lil' more. C'mon cutie, get to singing again."
onychinus wasn’t really an official office, but there existed a home-base of operations.
with clean-cut interior, bulletproof glass conference rooms, desks scattered with both paperwork and technology alike under the ambient warm light surprisingly considerate of people who are sensitive to brightness, the building stands central north of the N109 zone.
this, as far as dwellers and factions know, is the home of the infamous ruler of onychinus. the dragon’s den. the keeper’s castle.
and this young, new assistant who is trying to make something of himself in the tower of bodies trying to climb upwards on the social ladder starts work today.
onychinus promises worth in exchange for loyalty. no questions asked.
he can do that.
he hasn’t even been sat an hour yet on his new desk before the phone started to ring.
briefed that all calls should be handled with promptness and professionalism, he takes it barely at the first ring. not expecting the voice that comes through.
“helloo?”
it takes him a moment to recall the script. “service?”
“can talk to papa?”
papa? he’s spent all week memorizing the names of the organizations affiliates. not one is called papa. had he missed something? so soon shall this be the end of his career?
he swallows. ponders—this can either be an enemy with technology to change their voice, or… no, how could a child know this number?
“hello? can talk to papa?”
“who is this?” he demands, harsh.
it is lost on the voice. he dictates his own learned script slowly. “my name… is… keewo.”
keewo… neither was that on the list. had he missed a page? was it the phonetic alphabet? code?
his palms begin to sweat. phone calls should never last more than a minute unless necessary. and the time ticks dangerously closer to forty seconds.
and his supervisor seems to he counting with him, because across the room, polishing a newly shipped in protocore weapon, his eyes meet ones behind a crow’s mask.
“you are not in our system.”
“what tissem?” the voice breathes, mouth too close to whatever receiver he was using. “can talk to papa pease?”
“are you a child?” forty seconds… the masked man rises from his seat.
“no. i boy.”
“how old are you?” forty-three. he’s placing the weapon down.
“i two. oh-most, twee.” the boy says happily. “can talk papa now, pease?”
forty-nine. his eye twitches. “who is papa?”
“my papa!”
fifty. shit. the supervisor is a few steps— “what’s his name?”
“uhh… uh…” fifty-three.
fifty-four.
fifty-five.
“papa name is… uh—“
“you dialed wrong.” fifty seven.
“no! i pwactice.” he harrumphs on the other end. fifty eight. “my papa name sy-woos!”
fifty-nine.
sylus.
his blood runs cold.
at sixty, like clockwork the phone is snatched from his hand. but the masked man who’d given him strict instructions that day has frozen in his own place a few paces away.
behind him stands a ghost never meant to be witnessed by mortal eyes. this shadow clad in darkness that only allow his red irises’ glow to pierce through. he lowers his head—respect, fear— he cannot say. but his heart beats like hooves in of a stampede.
“kyros.” says sylus. mister sylus— he would be instructed to call him were it not deemed unnecessary because he never comes in. “papa is working, angel.”
he barely hears the commotion on the other end. doesn’t even register the way the ominous entity of a man’s voice softens to an unbelievable timbre just above him.
“i know, i miss you too.” he says. footsteps fade along with the voice as he retreats with the wireless into the private office reserved for him alone.
he’s done for, surely. how could he have dismissed the boss’s son? how could he have known? no matter; he should have. and now—
“hey.” the masked supervisor squeezes his shoulder and he jumps like a cat.
the man— he isnt sure which twin this is but there were two of them earlier— snickers. “scared?”
he swallows.
“don’t worry about it.” he points to the dock missing its handheld, towards the light glowing orange. “forgot to mention, if it’s this color, always redirect to the main phone.”
he swallows. the boss doesn’t like to be bothered with trivial things, is what he knows. right?
but his supervisor adds. “he doesn’t like missing calls from very important people.”
he has no time to process before sylus returns and the handheld clicks in place in the dock before him.
crimson eyes examine him and he feels like his skin is peeled apart and soul exposed for a moment before sylus slowly turns away.
