Praise Me

25 /Female//18+ only Compilation of things that I like.

[luvcaleb]

thoughts about big dick caleb losing his self-control on your first time

caleb tries really hard. really, he does. when you whine and say it hurts or he's going too fast, he does his best to comply with your demands. keeping still. being gentle. peppering you with soft, reassuring kisses.

when caleb felt your cunt clench around his fingers, he didn't go crazy. he didn't lose his patience and tried to loosen you up to prep you as best as he could. when he put the head of his cock inside, he was slow and careful, even though he really, really wanted to feel your pussy.

but now, halfway in with you sobbing and crying for him to take it out, it's too big it won't fit, he hesitates. he can't move. he doesn't want to.

he really, really doesn't want to.

caleb can't stop his hips from fucking into you, not when you're so warm and wet and sinfully tight. looking up at him through teary lashes. cunt clenching around him like you never want him to pull out.

so even when the tears roll down your cheeks, when you say it hurts it a little, all caleb can do is apologize. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i can't stop," he murmurs, pressing soft kisses to your temple to make up for the way his hips fucking pound into you, heavy and rough. his cock keeps releasing globs of pre-cum, sloshing inside with your slick. "pips, i'm sorry, you feel too good—"

your legs are trembling, kicking out when the tip of his dick hits a good spot. he holds them down with a tight grip, bruises shaped like his fingertips blooming on your thighs. "ah, no, please don't run away, don't run away from me... mmgh, let me feel you, ah, let me have your pretty pussy, fuck!"

it's like any semblance of control he had slipped away from him; suddenly, he can't ever have his lips empty, always kissing you, marking the side of your neck, or sucking down your chest. he can't stand having you away from him, pulling you back to his cock before you can escape. 

and, hysterically, he realizes he can't bring himself to pull out, even as he feels his release fast approaching.

so he pumps it all inside you, thick loads of hot semen flush against your womb. the cum keeps coming out, painting your walls white, filling you up and overflowing. his hips keep thrusting, pounding, fucking it deeper, even long after he's finally stopped cumming and he's so sensitive it almost hurts. because maybe, just maybe, if he tried hard enough, maybe it'll take on the first try. if he pushes it deep enough, maybe he'll see you round and glowing.

and if it doesn't, well... he'll just have to keep going, won't he?

[applefishing]

18+ sharing your warmth with caleb. size difference. pet names. breeding. use of gravity evol.

“You can’t feel me at all?” you ask again, your fingers stroking up his forearm.  It’s still hard to believe his arm is not entirely his anymore – that they’d modified it. It still felt like him – like he always had: warm and strong and yours. 

He watches the meandering path you make up his arm, fingers ghosting over his skin. “Not like this,” he answers in a whisper.

It wasn’t right. They’d taken part of him from you. It makes you angry.

He hisses as you pinch the skin at his elbow. 

Then, he smiles. “So cruel.” 

His smile drops off his lips as you intertwine your fingers with his. “I hate them,” you mutter, bringing his hand towards your lips. You hold him there, a breath away, knowing he can’t feel the warmth of your breath against his skin.

He’d held your own hands like this just the day before, warming them with his hot breath and shoving them into his pockets before they could turn to ice again.

He’s reminded of the same thing; he’s having the same thought. You see it in his eyes as he pulls your intertwined hands towards his own lips now. “I won’t always be able to tell if your hands are cold,” he says. “Not unless you always walk on my left… unless you hold my left hand.” He pauses, eyes moving from your joined hands to look back at you. “Will you do that for me, Pips?” He asks. “So I know when you’re cold?” 

“I can just tell you.” 

He smiles again, squeezing your hand a little. “Can I trust you to tell me?” 

You frown slightly. 

He laughs. 

“On my left, then,” he says, decision made.

It’s a familiar end. His decisions were hard to shift once he’d made them. He was hard to steer. Still, you would always try.

You readjust your position on his lap, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs. 

“Would you tell me if you were cold?” you ask.

He tilts his head, his hair falling across his forehead. 

You know the answer before you’d asked. But it wasn’t about getting an answer. You were attempting to make a point: the same point you’d been trying to make for months now – since he’d come back.

You tug your hand from his and place your hands on his chest, pressing him back into the pillows propped up against the headboard. Answer me, you threaten silently.

“Why would I?” he asks as his right hand settles on your hip, like you might need help just to stay perched in his lap – like you could fall and he needed to be ready to catch you.

“So I can help you, like you would help me,” you answer.

His lips part, then close. He looks to the side, out into the snowy night, then back at you. “I’m never cold.”

In the past, you might’ve huffed and crawled off him – left him there to stew in his own stubborn refusal to admit to a completely human weakness. Instead, you cup his cheek with your palm, gentle, “Don’t tell childish lies. We’re adults now, you know.” 

He smiles softly – a slight curve of his lips that seems to soften his eyes, too.

“I can warm you when you’re cold,” you whisper, quiet, unwilling to risk scaring the softness away.

He blinks. His eyes drop to the hand at your hip. He’s quiet.

You wait.

Then, “What if I can’t feel your warmth?” he asks, so quiet you almost can’t make out the words.

You take a shallow breath, and then you lean forward into him, pressing your chest up against his. Your face rests comfortably against his shoulder — warm breath ghosting over his neck. “You can feel me everywhere else,” you remind him. Everywhere but his right arm.

His fingers press into your hip, and then his hand drops away. 

Retreating.

You turn your head a little and press your lips to his skin, just in the crook of his neck.

He freezes.

Retreat paused.

“Right?” you prod, lips brushing against his warm skin as you speak. “You can feel it here?”

He takes in a shaky breath, and you’re sure he’s about to lift you off him, say something to lighten to mood, distract you like he always does: retreat again.

You part your lips and exhale against his skin, “It’s warm, yeah?” you ask, determined.

You swear, just for a second, that you feel the brush of his hand at your back, but it’s gone before you can be sure of it. He’s still, apart from that, until, finally, “Yeah,” he breathes.

Victory.

You know it, just in that little word. He wasn’t backing away; retreating.

He was giving in.

You take in a few shallow breaths, shaken by the prospect of him finally surrendering. Then, gently, you press your lips to his neck in a kiss. “You’ll tell me then?” you ask. “You’ll tell me when you're cold?”

His hand presses to your lower back, you’re sure this time. It’s heavy and unwavering. “So you can warm me?” he asks in return, his voice far less steady than his hand at your back.

“Mm,” you hum, moving your head side to side a little so your lips graze his skin in the spot you kissed him. 

“All right,” he breathes.

“Promise?”

He’s silent, unmoving.

You hook your finger into the collar of his t-shirt and pull it down slightly, enough that you can press your lips to his collarbone. “Promise,” you prod, never moving far enough away that your lips aren’t touching him. Always touching. “Promise me you’ll tell me when you’re cold.” 

His head moves a little, chin dipping. Then, like an afterthought, he speaks, “Yes. Yeah. I’ll tell you. Promise.” 

Then his hand presses into you harder, like he’s trying to close the little gap between your bodies. 

You resist for a moment, then give in, letting him press you up against him. 

You’re forced to lift your head from his neck as you readjust; forced to meet his eyes. 

His pupils nearly engulf his purple irises entirely, darkness swarming and mixing with the softness that still hasn’t left. That’s how he was these days, you ponder as he looks back at you: soft and comfort and all those things that made him so familiar, but also, dark – cold, unpredictable, different – someone capable of igniting fear in a crowd of uniformed men. 

“It makes me feel greedy,” he says, pulling you from the swirling in his eyes.

You blink, “Greedy?” 

“Just thinking about it,” he clarifies. “You’re so warm that I…” His eyes dip to your lips as he speaks, short little glances that wouldn’t be so noticeable if they weren’t so frequent – if he didn’t linger there the more he looked, like the act of looking away was wearing him down. “I might… take it all. I might never stop. I might want it all and never ever stop.” 

You squirm a little, just slightly, an involuntary almost roll of your hips. “That’s okay. You’ve been cold for a long time, yeah? You need lots and lots of … of warming up.” 

He nods, but it looks a little uncontrolled, like he wasn’t thinking much about answering you at all. It’s a lazy kind of nod; distracted.

Lazy. Kind of like the way you begin to roll your hips.

He doesn’t look away as you roll against him, transfixed there as your breathing slowly shifts into deeper, unsteady, puffs of air between parted lips.

You can feel his hesitation, like breaking himself from his frozen trance might make it all stop – as if he were in a dream. 

“Am I warm here?” you ask on a shaky exhale, rolling your hips with a little force this time – pressing your heated centre into him.

Then you’re still, captured by the invisible force you’ve always known as his evol. It holds you there as his hand snakes up your back, a firm warmth that shifts the fabric of your shirt a little with it as it goes. It only stops when he reaches the back of your head. There he holds you, fingers tangled in your hair. You blink. His gravity releases you, and he falls forward – his forehead pressing against your own. 

His breath mixes with your own as he holds you there, waiting on his response. 

“That’s where you’re warmest,” he says, finally. “There,” he closes the gaps between your lips a little more. It almost tickles, the ghost of him – so close. “And here.” 

Then he’s on you, delving into your mouth in a way that leaves no room for escape. His hand holds you to him as he takes and takes and takes, tongue’s dancing and spit making a mess down to your chin.

Your hips move on their own.

You grind into him as you consume each other, assisted a little when his other hand presses into your lower back. 

Warm.

It’s all you’re thinking.

You’re so warm. He’s so warm. His warm hands holding you close; his warm chest pressed to yours; his warm thighs underneath you; his hot tongue, slick against yours. 

An embarrassing sound slips from your throat. You pull away, gasping in much-needed air as his eyes flick across your face.

His fingers twitch against your back. 

You shiver.

His hand, at the back of your head, drifts down to cradle your cheek. 

It’s his left hand.

His thumb brushes against your skin in gentle strokes.

“I’m cold,” he says.

You shiver again. It’s not from the temperature. The truth is, it’s not cold at all. His apartment might even be a little warmer than most people would find comfortable. He kept it that way for you, especially on winter nights like this: the ones you felt a little harsher than he ever did.

“You are?” you question, bringing your hand up to his cheek, mirroring him. 

Warm. His cheek is soft and radiating heat to match the red flush of his skin.

He nods, looking suddenly a little like a wounded puppy. You could almost swear his lower lip, wet from your kisses, was protruding a little… almost like a pout.

You press against him, chest to chest, as if there was any space left to close between you. “Even after…” you pause. “But I thought that was my warmest part?” you question, reaching up to touch your lips with your fingers.

His eyes drop and linger there, watching where you touch your mouth. Then, “Yeah, it is. You’re so warm there. So, so warm,” he says, distracted.

You wrap your arms around his neck. His arms fall to your waist, wrapping around you tight. 

“But you’re still cold?” you ask.

His eyes flutter closed. One shaky breath. Two. They open again. “Greedy,” he breathes. “I told you, yeah?”

Your cunt pulses between your legs, hot and sensitive. “Maybe…” you drift off, distracted by the increasingly desperate urge to shift a little to the side and press down directly onto his firm thigh. “Maybe you need to use both.” Your voice is breathy. It might be embarrassing if you weren’t so distracted.

“Both?” 

Your lashes flutter as you fight closing your eyes and giving into temptation. “Both my warmest places,” you whisper.

His fingers press into your waist, and then, he’s pulling you down, firm, into his lap. “I need to use both?” he asks, breathy. 

You nod. “I’m warm there, I promise.” 

He looks between your eyes and his head drops back a little, eyes closing, before he catches himself. He rocks forward again, keeping you close. “Yeah?” he breathes.

“So warm,” you say with another nod, your voice taking on a desperate, pleading, sort of tone. “Hot. It’s hot. I’ll warm you up, Caleb. I promise. I’ll keep you warm.” 

His lips nearly brush yours when he speaks, “Yeah, baby? I might need to stay inside, though. You might have to keep me in there so I can stay nice and warm, yeah? Is that okay?” 

You nod. It’s a little frantic, as desperate as your pleading.

When his lips press to yours again, you’re vaguely aware of movement elsewhere, of him using a combination of his evol and his hands to lift you just enough to shove his pants down his legs a little and resettle you in his lap, one less layer between you.

You nibble at his lower lip as his warm fingers play with your flimsy shorts, slowly, lazily, snaking their way into one of the legs. You gasp into his mouth, jolting at the tickle of his fingers as they brush over your underwear, over your throbbing cunt.

“I can feel it,” he says as he sucks in shallow breaths. “I can feel how warm you are.” 

You blink at him, incapable of saying anything at all – focused instead on catching your breath. 

He continues, warm fingers brushing lightly back and forth against the cotton between your legs, “Right here,” he breathes. “Hm? Right here, yeah?” 

Your lips part, and close, and part again. Then, you nod.

Your world tips. He lifts you and lowers you onto the pillows before tugging you backwards against his chest – flush against his body, each of you lying on your sides. His breath is warm on your neck when he speaks, “I should check,” he says. “Just to be sure.”

It’s easier to speak like this, with your eyes on the snow falling though the window, instead of looking at him. “How?” you ask, a little crack in your voice.

His palm moves to your lower stomach, settles there a moment, then presses, forcing you right back against him. “You’ve gotta be close,” he says, his voice taking on the tone he’s always used when he was helping you study, gentle, patient – listen closely, it says, I’ll help you. “Just like this,” he continues. His hand leaves your stomach. He shifts a little. Then, his finger sneaks back through the leg of your flimsy pyjama shorts, forcing them to rise up right around the tops of your thighs until they’re basically a second layer of underwear. “We’ll leave these on for now, okay?” 

You nod, nonverbal.

He tugs your underwear a little. You have no idea what for, distracted by the pulsing between your legs. 

Then, heat, soft. His cock slips beneath your underwear, and in one smooth motion, slips along your sensitive cunt, skin to skin. 

You whimper, twist towards him, and grip his bicep – stunned by the sudden reality of feeling him like this, pressed hotly against you. You’re sharply aware of the wetness he finds there; of the way you’ve been leaking for him.

His hand moves back to your stomach, holding you steady. “Just like this,” he breathes. You can’t see his eyes like this, twisted back towards him just enough that he can take your lips in his. 

You whimper into his mouth again, unable to stop your hips from rocking back and forth.  You take him with you as you rock – his cock trapped in your underwear. 

You can’t get enough friction. He’s hot, and he’s hard, and you desperately want to reach down and press him against your cunt harder, so you can grind against the length of him like you did to a pillow when you were younger. As it was, you were pushing closer and closer to something almost painful.

You whimper and whine against his lips as he laps at you, making his own sounds – each one triggering a tightening of your walls, empty and desperate. Empty. 

Empty.

Empty.

It’s an internal mantra that eventually seeps out of you in a pathetic, murmured, incomprehensible whine.

He separates from you enough to mutter, “What?” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, suddenly overwhelmed without the distraction of his lips.

“What was that?” he asks again.

Your eyes flutter open, “I’m so empty.” It’s a pathetic sort of sound, the way those words slip out of you. But it was hard to be embarrassed when his pretty brows were twisting up and his lips were falling open and – “Fuck,” he breathes. 

His hips roll into you, a satisfying pressure that has you gasping and gripping onto the arm that holds your waist. 

“Say that again,” he groans into your neck. “Tell me how it feels inside.” 

“So empty,” you answer, pressing back into him – bodies aligned perfectly now you’re twisted back to face the window. “All empty inside.” 

“Yeah?” His cock slips against your slick hole, soft and warm. “Here?” he asks. He rocks against you as he mumbles into your neck, breath hot against your skin. “You all empty, pretty girl? Just here? Just for me?” 

He could be saying anything. You nod, hardly hearing his words, just rocking back to meet the roll of his hips. “For you… for you,” you mutter breathlessly.

His hand slips beneath your shirt, pressing to your lower stomach. His breath ghosts behind your ear, and then he whispers as close to your ear as he can get, “Here?” His hand presses firm, right where that emptiness hurts most.

The sound that leaves you could be a cry. It’s a squeaky, broken sound. 

The weight of his evol settles over you, a comforting weight that holds you still, preventing you from rocking against him. Then he’s rolling his hips back a little, just enough that his leaking tip prods at your swollen entrance. He plays with you like that, rocking in tiny movements – prodding over and over and over. 

“Your hot little mouth isn’t your warmest spot, baby,” he says, still holding you still. “It’s right here,” he breathes, stilling prodding at your twitching hole, “Right between your soft thighs. Where I can’t see. Where no one can see.” His hot breath hits your neck as he speaks; as you hopelessly fight the weight preventing you from pushing back into him. “You’ll let me see, won’t you?” he continues, wrapping his arms around you fully. 

“Caleb,” you whine, desperate.

“Mm? What’s wrong, baby?”

“Let me go. Please. Let me–”

“Why? Will you be a good girl? Or are you going to try and take me inside? Hm? You being greedy?” 

“Inside,” you answer without thought, too desperate to do anything but say exactly what your mind is screaming. “Inside.” 

“Mm,” he hums, nibbling at your earlobe. “That’s what I thought. Naughty girl.” 

He shifts his hips back a little, taking away the only thing keeping you sane. “No,” you whimper.

Caleb kisses at your neck, wet, lazy kisses that feel a lot like how he was kissing your lips earlier, but then he sucks. It comes with noises. Wet, messy noises. 

“Let me go,” you cry. “Let me–”

The weight lifts. He lets you go. You shift backwards, forcing his length along your cunt, over and over – an uncontrolled type of movement resulting from the build up of desperate need. 

Then you catch the tip of him. You can’t reach down between your legs with the way he’s wrapped around you. You’re forced to roll your hips and try and guide him inside. His hand drop to your hip, preventing you, just as you get close.  It’s too much. You’re at the end. And just when you’re about to break, he rolls you over onto your belly, his body covering you completely. He seems bigger like this – so big the world seems to disappear. 

“Okay, okay,” he says in that way that so often makes you want to stamp your foot or punch him in the gut – a tone of voice that usually makes you feel like a baby having a tantrum. Not now, though. Now, it’s sweet relief. 

His big hands reach down and drag your shorts down your legs, then your messy underwear, soaked through.

Then, his leaking tip finds you again, right where you’re desperate to take him inside. He prods a little, feeling the way you attempt to suck him inside, slick and warm. “You can be greedy now,” he whispers, letting his tip nestle at your twitching cunt as you grind back against him, trying to push onto him. “You can be greedy with me, baby.” 

He sinks inside, letting you suck and clench around him with a pathetic sort of broken cry. 

It’s not without suffering all of his own. You feel the vibration of the sound he makes into your neck. It sounds like he’s in pain – like maybe it’s too much. 

You’re suffering together as you pulse around his heavy cock, twitching where it’s buried deep inside. 

“Warm,” he mumbles, lips pressed to your neck. “Oh, fuck.” 

You clench around him. 

He whimpers.

“Warming you up,” you mutter, feeling very much out of your mind – like maybe you’ve forgotten how to string words together to make a sentence.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “That’s right. Keeping me warm. Pretty little pussy. So warm.” 

Your responding hum sounds more like a squeak. 

His arms tighten around you, warming you in his own way – his body heavy all over you.

“Gonna keep you like this,” he mutters, hips starting to grind a little, hardly pulling out at all, just pressing you into the mattress over and over. “Can I keep you like this? Hm? Keep you under me, fucked full, fucked… so full.” His palm shifts to your belly, right where he’s buried. “Here,” he groans, then bites at your neck, teeth grazing your skin. “Right where you’re warmest, yeah?”

“Mm,” you hum, gripping the sheets in your hands, desperate for something to hold onto.

It’s not until he’s pulling out and dropping his hips back into you that you speak again, overwhelmed by the feeling of his hips smacking against you loudly with each drop – shoving you into the mattress. “Don’t leave,” you sob. “Ple-please, don’t stop.” 

His harm loops around your front, draped across your collarbones, holding you firmly beneath him. “Greedy girl,” he says, breathless. It sounds like praise. “It’s okay,” he says with a soft kiss to your neck. “Need to stay inside. Gotta stay warm. We’ll get you nice and full, yeah? Full of hot cum? Hm?” 

“Okay,” you agree with a sob.

His responding, “Okay,” sounds like a sigh. “Yeah, nice and full. And we’ve gotta keep it there. Gotta stay inside.” His hips snap against you a little faster, a little less time pressed heavy and still at the end of each drop. “Until I’m hard again,” he continues between shallow breaths. “Until I can fuck you with it.” He sucks at your throat. “That okay? Can I breed my pretty girl? Hm? Get you all messy?” 

You’re not sure you’ve ever been capable of speech in your life. It’s gone. Your lips part and you can’t make anything come out apart from a tiny, broken, call of his name.

“You can do it,” he coos. “Say it for me, baby. Tell me I can fill your little belly with cum. Tell me I can make you nice and warm inside.” 

One of his hands finds your jaw, then his finger is pressing between your lips, like he’s trying to help you get the words out. 

“Yes, please,” you manage. It’s small and pathetic and a little muffled by his finger in your mouth.

He shudders, his entire body suddenly a little heavier over you.  It’s still then, all tension and weight. The next time he moves, it’s the pad of his finger pressing against your tongue. “Gonna give you everything.” His finger presses into your mouth in tandem with his cock deep inside you. That’s how he fucks you, pressing inside each of your warmest places, where he belongs. 

[velaenam]

dirty diana (smut)

colonel!caleb x lieutenant!reader (non!mc) synopsis: after a brutal mission, there's nothing caleb wants to do more than to mate press you. tags: NSFW (18+) RAW. NASTY. SMUT!!! creampie, penetration (p to v), clit stimulation, overstimulation, really REALLY rough sex, groping, swearing, use of gravity evol during sex, praising, pet names, aftercare, smut w/ sorta plot notes: title is this cuz idk i was really inspired to make a sensual fic after repeatedly listening to michael jacksons dirty diana instrumental. it sounds like sultry sex  n so here is just that — reblogs comments & likes are appreciated.

the base is still humming with tension as you and your colonel make your way down the dim corridor, boots echoing sharply against the reinforced floors. the mission had been brutal. losses, near failures, bodies too close to the line– and yet, you both walked out of it standing. everyone who passes by offers stick and respectful salutes, their eyes filled with awe with a touch of fear. caleb, towering besides you, doesn’t flinch. his expression is unreadable, all sharp angles. you don’t say a word either. your voice still caught between exhaustion and restraint. you feel the weight of the day settle heavier in your chest with every step as you near.

it wasn’t until you’re both inside his office, the door shutting with a soft hiss behind you, that the chill in the air begins to melt. caleb exhales slowly, shoulders dropping. 

his clouded and stormy eyes find yours– and suddenly, they weren’t so cold anymore.

he doesn’t speak right away. he just stands there, watching you with those sharp and unreadable eyes. then slowly, he steps forward, the space between you shrinking with every unhurried stride. his gloved hand lifts, gently brushing along your cheek before cupping it, tilting your face to meet his. the touch is so careful it almost doesn’t match the man everyone else saluted minutes ago. his thumb grazes your skin as his voice lowers into something only you ever get to hear:

“are you hurt?”  he asks softly and unguarded. like you being in pain meant more to him than anything. 

you offer him a small tired smile. warm, despite the blood and dust smeared across your skin. his breath hitches. of course it does. especially when you smile like that. caleb leans in, slow and hungry, drawn to you like a marn starved. his nose brushes along your temple as he inhales deeply, like hes memorizing your scent, anchoring himself with it, “you shouldn’t be putting yourself in the line of fire like that,” he murmurs, voice rough with something deeper than frustration. his other hand finds your waist, fingers flexing slightly, tugging your closer, “i don’t care what the mission is, i’ll protect you, always.” the vow whispered against your skin, his lips brushing just beneath your ear as his hands begin to roam.

you giggle softly, the sound light and teasing against the weight of his words, “but then whos going to watch your back, colonel?” you murmur, your fingers slipping up to toy with the front of his uniform, eyes twinkling with mischief, “can’t have you gettin’ all heroic without me.” the look you give him is so soft, so trusting that it’s almost cruel…to him– like you don’t even realize how easily you’re unraveling him. caleb pulls back just a little, blinking as if you’ve short circuited something in him. his jaw clenches, breath uneven. you can see it in the way his throat bobs when he swallows. the faint flare in his nostrils indicating how just one sweet smile from you sends his heart into overdrive.

his eyes darken with intent as he closes the space again, gaze flicking from your lips to your eyes– hungry and determined. his hands slide up your back, guiding your closer, and he dips his head, just barely brushing your mouth with his.

but before he can claim the kiss, you slip out of his grasp with a little laugh, circling behind him with that same infuriatingly sweet tone you always use when you’re being cheeky, “debrief time, sir.” you say over your shoulders, already moving toward his desk, your voice so bright and bubbly all the sudden, “enemy contact confirmed at the north sector. hostels down, one injured. we extracted and secured the point.” you shoot him a quick glance as you speak– eyes wide with innocence, lips quirking in a grin you know drives him crazy. caleb turns slowly, watching you like a hawk, stunned that you had the audacity to tease him now, of all times.

he slowly walks past you. the soft click of the door locking echoes louder than it should. you freeze, heartbeat tripping. caleb doesn’t say a word. his gloved fingers move to the collar of his uniform jacket, unfastening it with deliberate slowness– eyes never leaving yours. the moment the fabric slides off his broad shoulders, your knees threaten to give, heat blooming fast in your core.

you barely manage to make it to the chair beside his desk, sitting down more to steady yourself than anything else. he notices and his lips curl just slightly, dark amusement flashing in his gaze. “didn’t even touch you..” he murmurs, voice low and smooth like velvet dragged over, “and you’re already trembling..” 

you barely have time to breathe before his hands wrap around your wrist and pulls you to your feet. the next moment, he’s turning you around, guiding you forward until your hands brace against the cool surface of his desk. his body follows, chest pressing just close enough to feel the heat of him at your back, but not close enough to touch. one hand glides slowly up your spine, trailing heat with every pass of his fingertips, while the other settles low on your waist, thumb stroking over the edge of your belt, “look at you…” he mumbles, voice husky and commanding, lips brushing the shell of your ear, “so so obedient…” his hand skims up your side, fingers grazing just beneath your uniform top before slipping away again, “you turn into this sweet little tease…” he doesn’t touch where you need him the most. he’s savoring this, drawing it out like a canvas. 

you try to play it cool.. truly, you do. your voice lifts, breathy but defiant, “y-you’re the one getting all w-worked up caleb..” you mutter, hoping the words land sharp, like the tease you intended. but the second his lips press to the nape of your neck, your breath catches in your throat. his hands are everywhere— sliding over your hips, up your ribs, fingertips brushing just under your bra with sweet restraint. another kiss lands just behind your ear, followed by a soft bite that makes your knees wobble again. you try to speak, to stay in control, but your words dissolve into a shuddered exhale, “c-caleb” his name slips out like a confession, and he chuckles low, already knowing what he’s doing to you, “not so mouthy now..” he whispers against your skin, every syllable thick with an underlying promise, “what happened to that sharp tongue, lieutenant?” 

his hands keep exploring every inch of you like he’s memorizing the shape of you (by ed sheeran) the weight of your exhaustion, the parts of you only he’s allowed to touch, but then just when you think he’s going ot keep teasing, his tone shifts. his lips find your shoulder, brushing softly against the fabric of your uniform as his hand settles just above your heart. “you were incredible out there..” he whispers, voice lower now, almost tender, 

“every move.. every call.. i was watching you the whole time…. you want that promotion right..?” 

a pause

“sorry. just kidding” he chuckles and you roll your eyes, “then i’d have my own lieutenant. do you reallllly wanna share?” you muse, and this time he shuts up.  he smiles against your skin as he lets out a muffled but soft laugh

another kiss, slower this time, pressed just below your jaw, “so composed. so precise. you kept the group alive. you kept me alive.” his hand comes up to your hair, tipping your head just enough for him to kiss your temple, “i’ve never trusted anyone the way i trust you.” the praise sinks into your skin like warm sun. it spreads from the inside out, making your breath hitch. from the arousal to the weight of his words. it was heavy with respect, laced with his undying love for you.

his fingers move to your collar next, slow and steady, tugging at the fastenings of your uniform jacket, “you don’t even know what you do to me..” caleb kisses the back fo your neck as the fabric begins to slide from your shoulders, “i don’t just respect you.. i adore you.” the word lands heavy and raw. stripped of all the control he usually holds, “the way you move.. the way you think.. the way you smile..” he peels your jacket away, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud, exposing the warmth of your skin to his touch. his palms glide along your bare arms now, “i could spend the rest of my life learning every inch of your and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

each kiss that follows is slower, more sensual– along your shoulder, your spine, the space between your ear.

you gasp softly as the cool air of his office brushes over your newly exposed skin, his fingers now working with delicate precision as he undresses you piece by piece. your breathing quickens, a soft moan slipping past your lips when he brushes his thumbs along your lower back, just above the curve of your ass. goosebumps rise in waves. you feel his gaze dragging over every inch of you like it’s the most sacred thing he’s ever seen. like you were a goddess and he was your follower. 

when he lowers your panties, he exhales slowly behind you, then gently– he presses down on the small of your back, guiding you to bend slightly over the desk. his hands find your ass, palms kneading with a touch both greedy and worshipful, pulling you apart just enough to make your breath hitch. “you’re beautiful.” caleb mutters and you whimper when he leans in, hips pressing against you, hard and deliberate. “are you ready for me..?” his voice is low, hoarse with restraint.

caleb rolls his hips against you, deliberately slow, his cock grinding against your slick entrance without pushing in– just enough to make your breath come out in broken gasps. each teasing pass sends a jolt of heat spiraling through your core, thighs trembling as you grip the edge of his desk tighter. he’s murmuring again, voice thick and low, like he’s drunk on the feel of you. “so wet for me.. and i haven’t even started yet..” he groans, dragging his tip along your folds, savoring your every twitch and whimper. 

but you’ve had enough.

with a frustrated moan, you shove your hips back into him, forcing him inside you in one slick heated push. both of you grasp- his hands immediately clenching around your waist, yours flattening harder against the desk as pleasure crashes over you in a hot, staggering wave. “fuck–” caleb breathes, eyes fluttering shut as his head drops forward, dizzy from the sudden depth, the way you took him. 

but you don’t stop there. you start to move, rolling your hips, throwing it back tinto him, with a purpose.  a messy hungry purpose. his grip tightens, his control slipping with every thrust you give him, “g-goddamn it-” he grows, breath running ragged, “you’re gonna fucking milk me dry-”

he tries– god he really tries– to hold on, but the way you moved against him, the filthy sound of your bodies meeting, the way you were taking him so willingly. it shreds the last threads of his discipline. 

with a growl, he grabs your hips and slams into you, burying himself to the hilt with a sharp snap of his hips that make you absolutely cry the fuck out, your hands scrambling for any sympathy from the desk, “no.” he pants, voice ragged with lust, “not like that. you don’t get to take control then pretend nothing happened.” his hand tangles itself into your hair, yanking your head back to expose the curve of your throat. his mouth is on you immediately– biting– sucking. branding your skin with hickeys. 

he’s fucking you now with no hesitation,each thrust punishing and deep, his other hand landing a hard smack on your ass that echoes through the room. you whimper, clench, and he groans, low and guttural, at how tightly your body reacts to him, “like that?” he hisses against your neck, biting down just enough to make your eyes snap shut, “you want it harder, lieutenant?  use your words.”  

caleb doesn’t let up. he doesn’t let you speak. if anything– he fucks you harder– slamming into you over and over with a feral pace, the sound of skin meeting skin raw and obscene in the still air. you’re crying out his name like it’s the only owrd you remember, each syllable, a desperate moan, a plea, a praise, “c-caleb! f-fuck! c-colonel–” you’re sobbing, voice breaking, eyes glossed and unfocused. he grits his teeth, hips pistoning with brutal rhythm, his groans low and wrecked.

and then, with a strangled growl, he drives deep and stills– cumming hard inside you, his grip bruising around your hips as his dick throbs, filling you to the brim, his cum coming out of you and dripping everywhere. you follapse forward onto the desk, chest heaving, legs shaking

but he wasn’t done.

you barely register the sudden shift in weight before you’re lifted– gravity bending to his will. your body floats, slick and trembling, as he pulls you upright against his chest. his arm warps right around your middle section, grounding you, while the invincible pull of his evol drags your hips back down– right onto his still hard cock.

you scream, fingers clawing at his forearm as he starts fucking you again, this time, midair, each thrust powered by the impossible push-pull of his body and his grav. manipulation. you’re weightless but locked in place, taken over and over without a single inch of escape. your eyes roll back, mouth falling open as you babble- no words now– just broken breathless sounds.

your body is trembling, completely at his mercy– suspended in the air, stuffed full of him, stretched and used and loved in equal measure. calebs thrust keep coming, unforgiving and deep, his cock grinding into you with mind numbing precision. your cries are wrecked now– high and desperate sounds that echo off the office walls. your eyes rolled back, mouth slack, drooling between stammered gasps, “you’re doing so good for me.” he whispers into your ear, voice suddenly so tender but shaking with restraint as he feels your walls fluttering around him, “my good girl.. taking me so perfectly.” his free hand slides between your legs, and the moment his fingers find your clit– you shatter.

you scream his name as your entire body tenses, then convulses violently in his arms, squirting around his cock with a gush that soaks him, “fuck– look at that.” he groans, rutting into you through it, watching with wide wild eyes as your body gives him everything, “s-so beautiful.. so f.. fucking perfect..” you’re shaking, twitching in overstimulation, subbing into the air as your legs jerk and your muscles seize, but he holds you tight, grounding you with one strong arm while his evol keeps you just where he wants you.

and then it hits him. with a deep broken moan, caleb buries himself one last time, cock pulsing hard as he cums inside you again– hot thick and deep. his hips grind to a stop as he lets out a ong trembling breath, his chest heaving against yours. slowly, gravity softens. he releases the pull, cradling your limp soaked body in his arms before gently laying you back down on the desk like you were porcelain. his fingers brush your cheek, his touch so achingly soft now it almost makes you cry again, “you were amazing, my perfect girl.” he whispers against your temple. 

your limbs feel like jelly, every nerve still buzzing from how completely he wrecked you. but caleb doesn’t leave you there undone and trembling. he gathers you into his arms without a word, holding you close against his chest. you hear the soft hum of the door sliding open behind you– it leads to a small private bathroom attached to his office. he carried you inside with care, settling you gently on the counter.

he runs warm water into the basin, soaking a soft cloth as you watch him with hazy, adoring eyes. calebs expression has changed completely– no longer dark, no longer ravenous. just open and loving. devoted. he kneels in front of you and with a slow careful move, begins to clean you up, the rag warm and gentle as he wipes between your thighs. every so often he murmurs soft things under his breath: praise, affection, things he’d only ever said in quiet moments. “i’ve never wanted someone like i want you.” he brushes your cheeks again, “you don’t even know what you mean to me.” 

when he finishes, he helps you back into your clothes one piece at a time. hands steady.

once your jacket is fastened again, he pulls you into his arms and slowly kisses you. his hands cradle your face, lips pressing to yours, like a promise. 

when he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, and he whispers, “you’re mine. always.” 

taglist — @rcvcgers @miffysoo

[eyrichandesu]

“You’re dripping on me, sweetheart.”

Caleb’s voice was low, lazy, almost teasing — but that heat behind his eyes said otherwise. Your hips shook against the sheets, spine arched and thighs trembling as his cock dragged through your soaked cunt again and again, slow and deep, like he had all the time in the universe to ruin you.

Because he did. He’d make sure of it.

“I haven’t even finished once,” he added darkly, slamming in deeper until your scream cut through the air. “And you’re already cryin’ on my cock?”

His hand pressed firm and flat against your lower belly — right over the bulge — and he moaned at the sight. “Fuck. Look at that. Look how deep I am, baby. You're shaped around me.”

Your voice broke in a sob, fingers clawing at the sheets, your body caught in that dangerous space between too much and not enough. “G-Gege—!”

“Again,” he snarled, snapping his hips, making the bulge rise higher. “Say it again. Louder.”

“Gege!” you cried, hot tears leaking down your cheeks, your breath hiccuping from how tight you were stretched around him. “T-Too big, I—I can’t—”

“Oh, but you are.” He licked your tears without slowing down, tongue dragging across your cheek before sinking his teeth into your shoulder with a muffled groan. “You’re taking every inch like a fuckin’ good girl. So tight around me, baby, this pussy was made for me.”

His hand dropped to your clit, rubbing tight circles while he pumped into you brutally, your juices soaking his pelvis with every thrust. “You gonna cum like this?” he whispered against your ear. “Stuffed full of cock, crying like a little whore?”

You nodded frantically, whining, already so close it hurt. “Please—! Please cum in me, Caleb—Gege—please!”

“Beg for it properly.”

Your lips trembled. “I want your cum, Gege… I want you to break me… fill me up until I can’t hold it anymore—”

And with a growl, Caleb shoved you down onto the bed, caging your body under his, and fucked you so hard the headboard slammed the wall.

“I’m gonna breed this pussy raw,” he hissed. “You’ll feel me leaking out for days.”

He came with a vicious thrust, cock pulsing deep inside you as your own orgasm ripped through you, your cunt squeezing around him so tight it forced another thick spurt of cum into your womb.

You were shaking. Babbling. Tears and drool smeared across your lips, body twitching with overstimulation as he slowly began fucking his cum deeper into you, hips grinding in lazy circles.

“You’re not done,” Caleb said softly, grinning. “I’m not stopping until this tummy’s full and round with me.”

[thedeadstoryteller1]

𝒮𝓃𝒾𝒻𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 - 𝒞𝒶𝓁𝑒𝒷 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 - 𝒩𝒮𝐹𝒲

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝘊𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘣 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯.

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: 18+, 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘺

𝙰𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚝: itsonlynsfw on X for art. 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 @cafekitsune

“Caleb, I think our dryer is eating my underwear.” Your voice is casual, but it hits him like a missile. His heart skips a beat. For a second, he freezes—panic flaring in his chest—before forcing himself to act normal, hoping you didn’t catch that micro-heart attack.

It’s not the dryer. He knows exactly where your missing panties are—tucked away in his drawer, buried beneath a tangle of boxer briefs, lube, and a pocket pussy. He thinks of the blue lace ones, delicate and intimate, soaked in your scent. Just the memory makes him stiffen, his thoughts crashing into a wave of raw, aching desire. He bites his lip, imagining your softness, your sweetness, the taste of you—how badly he craved all of it.

“Helloooo, you're burning the pancakes.” Your voice cuts through the fog. This time it’s closer.

“Shit.”  He snaps back to reality, tossing the charred pancake aside with a curse. “Sorry, Pips. Just… got a lot on my mind.” He avoids your eyes, guilt sinking heavy in his chest. If you knew what he was really thinking—

“I can see that.” You glance pointedly down. His eyes follow, horrified to find the very obvious erection straining against his grey sweatpants. You smirk, and his entire soul wants to combust.

He wanted to disappear. Without thinking, Caleb lashes out with his evol, spinning your body gently but firmly away from him with a shift in gravity. His cheeks go crimson.

“Not fucking cool, (Y/N)!” he blurts out, voice tight with frustration and embarrassment.

“Caleb… it’s f—” He storms past you before you can finish, gravity snapping back to normal. His bedroom door slams, and the click of the lock twists something in your stomach.

He's mad. You would be too if someone called you out like that.

You walk to his door, fingers resting gently against the frame. “Caleb, I’m sorry.”

A long pause. Then, muffled through the wood: “Go away… please, (Y/N).”

It hurts more than you expect.

“I’ll be back later then,” you say softly, swallowing the ache. “Don’t worry—I have some paperwork to finish anyway.” You wait, hoping. But the door stays closed. Heavy rock music starts to blare. That’s your answer.

You leave.

Caleb tries to sleep. Tries to think of anything but you. But even in dreams, your body haunts him—naked, warm, perfect. He imagines your thighs wrapping around him, your breathless moans, the way your fingers would claw at his skin as he sinks deep inside you.

“Fuck,” he groans into his pillow.

All day, he’s wrecked with lust. Rock hard and rabid with want, he can’t shake you. Can’t touch himself without imagining your voice in his ear, your body under his hands. He’s losing control.

“This is the last time,” he growls.

But even he doesn’t believe it.

He pulls out the usual: lube, the pocket pussy. But then—his ultimate sin—the blue lace panties. The ones he stole from your dirty laundry while doing the wash. He tells himself it was just once. An accident, really. The red ones got mixed into his load, and curiosity got the better of him. Then came the black ones. That’s when it became a habit.

An addiction.

But these blue ones? These are different. Maybe it’s the little apple print on the waistband. Maybe it’s the way they still smell like you. Whatever it is, he can’t give them back. Not yet.

He imagines sliding them down your thighs—after he’s spent minutes teasing your clit with his fingers, coaxing out those breathy moans he dreams about. Your face flushed, lips parted, eyes begging.

His cock twitches, painfully hard.

He picks up the panties like they’re sacred. Raising them to his nose, he breathes in deep.

Euphoria. Your scent hits him like a drug, raw and dizzying.

“Fuck, (Y/N)...” he whimpers. “I want to taste you.”

And then—he does. He brings the fabric to his tongue, licking the crotch of the panties, where your pussy would be. Slow at first, savoring the imagined taste, the heat, the fantasy.

He loses control.

Boxers off, lube at the ready, he strokes himself hard—rough and needy—panting your name under his breath. He sees you in his mind: laid out for him, legs open, your pussy wet and waiting. He hears you, whimpering, begging:

“Please, Caleb… more.”

He licks the panties faster, deeper, as if it’s you. Tonguing the fabric like it’s your folds, like you’re moaning against his mouth.

He’s so close.

“Not yet,” he pants, holding back, body shaking.

His eyes roll back as he wraps the panties around his thick cock, fucking into them like he’s fucking you.

His moans are loud. Unrestrained.

“Thank god she’s not home,” he thinks, before his mind blanks out in pleasure.

“I know you'd be tight,” he whimpers.

“I know you’d feel amazing,” he grunts, hand working faster.

“Fuck, (Y/N)… you make me fucking weak,” he pants, breath ragged and voice thick with lust.

He pictures you beneath him—your back arched, your lips parted, eyes glassy from pleasure. His thick cock stretching you open, your body trembling as tears stream down your cheeks.

“Caleb… I—I’m gonna cum,” your voice echoes in his mind, breathy and sweet, like a melody he can’t forget.

“Me too, princess,” he murmurs, responding to the illusion as if it were real.

And then—it hits. His orgasm rips through him like fire, and his cum spills in thick, hot ropes all over the blue panties. So much of it. The vivid image of his cock buried deep inside you, filling you up, begins to fade as the high crashes over him.

His legs nearly buckle. Gasping for breath, he leans against the dresser, his body twitching from the intensity. After a moment, he grabs a towel hanging from the closet door and wipes himself clean. Quiet. Methodical.

The soiled panties go into his hamper. Later, he’ll slip them into the wash—just like always.

“I’m disgusting,” he thinks, loathing the way his chest still burns with afterglow.

His heartbeat slows. His breathing evens out. The haze of lust finally begins to lift… until—

Creeaak.

His head snaps up.

The floorboards just outside his room groan under the weight of someone. He freezes. His eyes dart to the thin crack beneath the door.

A shadow.

“Oh no.”

𝐻𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑠 !

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑒𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦. 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑏𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝘩𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝐿𝐴𝐷𝑆 𝑓𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑚 𝑎𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑠 𝐶𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑏 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑦 𝑠𝑛𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟. 𝐼𝑀 𝐻𝐸𝑅𝐸 𝐹𝑂𝑅 𝐼𝑇. 𝐹𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈!

~𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒟𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎 𝒯𝑒𝓁𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓇 ~

Click here for part two !

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[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

MY LOVE, MY ALIBI | CALEB | XIA YIZHOU (LNDS)

♡ tags ; psuedocest / adoptive incest, afab + fem!reader, minor age-gap (3 years), mentions / non graphic depictions of child abuse (from readers days in the orphanage), childhood crushing, mutual pining, developing relationship, size difference, some religious imagery, loss of virginity, petnames (baby, princess, pipsquak), use of meimei once and gege a few times but very sparing, oral (f!recieving), nipple play, marking, light masochism from reader, mouth-spitting, fingering, bare-backing, 18+

♡ wc ; 23.3k (kill me)

♡ a/n ; hey. this is an incest fic for adoptive siblings. if that makes you uncomfortable, don't read it. block me if you need to. please spare me lecture.

also - i have reader be carried by caleb a couple of times but dude has a bionic arm so he's strong as shit to me. the size difference tag is mostly about his dick. aside from the carrying there is no phyiscal indicators for reader

important to the fic but i play in simplified cn. please go listen to the simplified cn voice actor before you read this. for my sanity. most of my characterization is based on various cn translations from the kind cn fanbase. special thank you to mao @/yinyuedijun and this yt channel.

♡ synopsis ; for as long as you can remember, the sight of caleb's back is whats made you feel safest. it's no surprise that every man that comes after him never quite measures up.

extended authors note. | caleb playlist | ao3 | tipjar

PART ONE: ANYTHING YOU SAY CAN AND WILL BE HELD AGAINST YOU.

At seven, you knock out one of your teeth roughhousing with one of the orphanage boys. 

The good news? You’re winning. You’re at the age where size matters more than gender but the boy you’re fighting is both bigger and older than you. 

Even so, you manage to pull off shoving him back.

You don’t know his name, only his face— buzzed head and red gums, the pristine picture of anger. You roll around with him in the small stretch of yard behind the orphanage - white tanktop stained with grass, all knobby knees and short limbs as you fight and fight and fight with every ounce of your strength. 

You are seven with something to prove and a lot already lost. Your pride refuses to let you lose further. You recieve a hit of adrenaline when you launch the top of your head into the older boys chin and hear his teeth clack from how hard it lands. He collapses in a pile, spits curses he learned from the grown-ups that come in and out as he lays there.

He nearly jumps you when you’re both down. Your head is throbbing where his chin connected and you can tell if he decides to fight you again, your chances of winning have slimmed significantly.

You see it in his eyes. In his face. He’s so angry. Always is. You knew it was a bad idea to provoke him to begin with. 

He nearly, nearly jumps you and almost knocks you out completely. 

So you decide it might be better to prepare for it. You fold up. Put your arms up high and brace for impact when a shadow - long, endless, casts over your head. Eyes half open, a familiar pair of beat-up sneakers stand in front of you in the grass. You hear a familiar voice. It’s colder than you’re used to.

“Bullying a little kid is lame,” Caleb says, sharp. It makes you shrink further even though it’s not directed at you. “Quit fighting or I’ll get one of the grown-ups.” 

You can’t see what's in front of you. You only hear a shock of gasps around you—another confrontation that quickly settles into silence before Caleb turns around. 

His face is soft as he bends down to be eye level. Kind, boyish, gentle - he opens up his arms. He’s not happy about something. You can tell because his smile is a little dimmer than normal. You desperately hope it isn’t because of you. 

Even knowing Caleb is going to scold you a bit, you find yourself welling up in tears from relief even over fear. You wail as you wrap your arms around his neck and Caleb hoists you up and carries you on his hip like you’re still a baby.

He’s silent as he carries you into the house. 

“You shouldn’t get into fights,” He says, soothing. You sniffle as he walks you inside. His shirt smells like summer, hands fisted in it. Holding on for dear life.  Call for me next time.” 

Caleb sits you on the mattress, in the room all the older kids share. Your feet don’t touch the ground as he kneels in front of you and rifles around under his bed. He has bandages and alcohol, cotton swabs and gauze. 

His eyes are kind as he assesses your wounds. Pours alcohol onto a cotton pad and frowns each time you sniffle and sob from the pain of getting them cleaned. “A crybaby like you shouldn’t fight anyone, seriously.” 

“Shut up,” You say first. You hang your head low, instant regret. Your hands close again, blunt nails digging into your palms. Your lower lip trembles. Caleb quickly puts a hand on the top of your head when he notices your distress. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. Just depend on me, alright?” He grins with the same front tooth missing. Like a mirror image of you, you think. “I’ll always help you.” 

__

At ten, you give up celebrating your birthday. 

You’re the age Caleb was when you met and now you’ve both left the orphanage and lived away from it for a few years. You’ve spent nearly three years with a woman you call Grandma and the world feels a lot kinder with her in your life. She takes good care of you. Gives you a warm bed to sleep in, and good food to eat. Doesn’t get angry when you break cups or get up in the middle of the night to go pee.

You live in a house with only three people and you even get to have your own room—one you don’t have to share, not even with Caleb. It’s nice to sleep where there’s no one else, even if most nights you crawl into Caleb’s bed anyway and sleep next to him because it's more comfortable.

Grandma is nice to you. Sometimes, she looks like she’s somewhere far away but it never lasts for long. You’re thankful to her for taking you in. 

You have a warm bed to sleep in, good food to eat, and Caleb is right next to you. He’s your brother now, so you can be together forever. And none of the adults from the orphanage are here to punish him anymore when he tries to protect you. 

You’re ten and the world seems to be trying its best not to hurt you any further. Somehow, this only makes you feel more uneasy. 

You’re happy. It scares you. You often wonder when someone will punish you for it. If someone will be blamed for allowing it. It makes you feel helpless when you think about it too long. 

But you have Caleb. He makes it easier. You can cling onto his shirt when it gets too hard. And he’s older now, enough to really feel grown up. 

A night, when you clutch the fabric until it stretches wide, trembling after you’re plagued by bad dreams - having nightmares of rusted rain, Caleb is there. 

No matter how deeply asleep, he always wakes up to hold you. 

( You wait for him to tell you that you’re too big to be getting scared over nightmares, but the day still hasn’t come. You hope it never does. You think you’d be so sad you would never stop crying. )

You’re ten, and the world seems kinder - but you know better by now. You try to take precautionary measures against letting it take everything from you again. 

And you start small. With yourself, and your birthday. 

You’ve only ever celebrated a few birthdays. In the orphanage they’d celebrate a lot at once, so it never felt very  special. You can’t really remember the ones you had before then, don’t remember much from then at all.  Since you’ve been adopted, Grandma has celebrated your birthday and made it special. She and Caleb cook your favorite meal together and you sit around and cut-cake afterwards. 

They even decorate the house with balloons and streamers.

Your birthdays now don’t compare to the ones you had then. 

Nothing bad is happening but still. You like celebrating your birthday. But, can you feel okay about getting to celebrate a birthday at all? When you thought for sure your life might end before then?

Before your eleventh birthday, you announce to your family that you don’t want to do anything special this year. When they probe you with questions about why not, you refuse to give up any answers.

Caleb is thirteen and heartbroken when he hears you say this. Asks questions even as you turn your nose up and refuse to answer. You get into a fight about it, one of the very first of your entire relationship. 

It’s that same night you begin to sleep in your own room. 

In the weeks leading up to your birthday, you find your house to be more quiet than usual. Caleb is busy with something but you blame yourself for the distance between you. He always comes back seeming tired. Even though he still pats your head and smiles at you the same way, you notice when he seems a little less there at the dinner time. 

When your birthday finally comes, your grandma still decides to celebrate it in a small way. She makes your favorite food and gets you a cake and candles. Hugs you when you cry about it, too. The only thing they skip is the decoration. 

(You’re brave though, when next year rolls around and tell them you miss it. It makes Caleb happy enough to hug you tight.)  

The warmth that fills your heart seeing your name in iced letters is too big for your body. You wonder if this is what having a family was like. 

At night time, after dinner and before you cut the cake - you open your presents. There’s two for your eleventh birthday. One from grandma and one from Caleb. Usually, they sign their gift to you together but this year they’re separate. 

At first, your heart sinks, but you try not to think about it. Grandma gets you a bike that matches Caleb’s so the two of you can ride together. You’re happy to have it but Caleb insists you can just keep riding on the back of his if you don’t want to learn. 

You open Caleb’s gift second. It’s wrapped in pretty paper with a bow on it so you undo it carefully. Inside of it is a plain looking box.  

“Open it,” 

There’s a pair of earrings and a necklace when you do. It’s not cheap plastic like all the other jewelry you’ve ever had in your life. Little apples covered in gemstones, and a little gold necklace with a pendant and a locket. Your eyes go wide, fingers trembling a little as you touch it. 

You look for Caleb’s face unthinkingly. Kind and warm, eyes crinkled and shoulders slack in relief when he sees your happy reaction. His hand is warm as it rests on your head, rubbing gently. 

“It took a while but I’ve been helping our neighbors for money so I could buy it for you,” Caleb says, looking down at you with an easy grin. “The day you were born is important for me, so don’t say that you won’t celebrate it from now on. Okay?” 

When tears well up in your eyes, you barely have to say a word before Caleb brings you into his waist. You cry to him the same way you always do - with a hand fisted in the back of his shirt like you’re terrified of where you’d end up if you let go.

Even when you ruin his shirt with salty tears, Caleb never voices a word of complaint. His steady heartbeat and warm hands that make you feel like he’s already done it all before, stay exactly where you expect them. 

Your dependable, kind older brother. 

__ 

At thirteen, you take your first field trip overnight. 

It takes a tremendous amount of effort to make it happen. 

Grandma was easy to convince, but it took you fourteen whole days to convince your brother that you could handle going on a school field trip without having your hand held the entire time. 

(You can still hear the amused, taunting lilt in his voice from when you first mentioned it. Sure you’ll be okay pipsqueak? My bed won’t be there for you to take over if you get scared, you know?)

Ugh. He can be so strict. An you swear he was even more stubborn about it than usual. 

You had to use every tactic in the book to get him to say yes. Kissing up to him, acting extra wistful, doing your chores and being super well-behaved. After strategically buttering him up for two weeks prior to you just asking, you also made sure to ask when he had one of his friends over. He’s strict regardless of who's around, but having another person in your corner is good for morale. 

(This method is effective for the record. Just as Caleb goes to turn you down, his friend throws an eraser at him and clicks his teeth. 

“There’s a limit to your siscon behavior. Just let her go.”

You sneak said friend a candy the next time he comes over as thanks.) 

After a lot of persistent begging, Caleb relents and allows Grandma to sign your permission slip. It’s an overnight trip sure—but it’s heavily supervised and rooms are separated by gender anyhow. You really don’t know what he was so worried about.

So far, the trip has been really fun. You went to a butterfly garden conservatory as a part of your science project and one landed on your nose. Your friend even managed to get a good picture. In the afternoon, you did a bit of sightseeing and got to buy some street food. 

When evening rolled around, you and all your friends holed up in the same hotel room sleeping together on one big floor. You stayed up a few hours later than you should’ve—gossiping and discussing the newest chapter of a very popular romance webnovel.  Most of them are out by the time the clock hits midnight. 

And now, you’re the last one awake at 1am. 

Unfortunately, no matter how long you try to sleep—it is hard to sleep away from home, knowing Caleb isn’t right down the hall. No matter how much the thought makes you frown. 

You’ve outgrown the habit of crawling into his bed every night. Still, you think you rest easier knowing that he’s there. You’d never admit it but subconsciously, it comforts you just knowing he is. The few times you get nightmares of the Chronorift these days, your nightmares are especially persistent. You don’t crawl into his bed like you did when you were a little kid as often as you used to. Even when you want it, it’s just a little embarrassing. 

Regardless though, he’ll stay up with you until it passes, and until you go back to to sleep. It’s the only thing that helps it go down easier some nights. That he’d be there no matter what happened. 

By the time the clock strikes one-thirty, you get the feeling you just won’t be able to sleep unless you at least call him. 

So, after carefully sneaking your phone out of your bag - you leave your hotel room to wander the halls and end up in the lobby in your PJs. 

You realize your incidental act of rebellion when you catch some stares from late-night guests. You hesitate on whether or not you should go back before deciding that’d be pointless. Fingers hovering over the call button, it takes a beat before you hit and hear the number dial. He’ll probably scold you but you know he’ll answer. 

He picks up in one ring. His voice is thick with sleep when he speaks. “It’s late. You should be asleep.” 

“Yeah, I know. Sorry, Gege,” You say, crossing slippered feet against the tile of the hotel lobby floor. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

His voice softens instantly. “Somethin’ happen?” 

You shake your head before realizing he can’t see you. “No, I just couldn’t sleep.” A beat. “I thought I would sleep better if…I talked to…someone.” 

It’s too embarrassing to tell him you wanted to talk to him, specifically. Caleb is quiet on the other side of the line before he laughs, just a little. “You were so adamant on wanting to go with your friends, huh? I thought you’d be just fine. Were you being brave for show?.” 

You frown a little, groaning. “I did have fun. A lot of fun. We talked a lot before bed too, and now everyone else is asleep. It’s not like I regret going. And I wasn’t being brave, I was just—” 

“Sure, sure. Still can’t sleep unless you know I’m there, huh?” 

Silence stretches over the line. You feel your face grow hot with embarrassment as you stretch your legs out, chin tucked against your chest.  

“Maybe I should just hang up on you,” 

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Caleb says more gently. “You can call me as much as you want.” 

“You’re being nice like when we were kids.” You observe. 

Caleb scoffs a little. “I’m always nice.” 

You roll your eyes and Caleb laughs like he knows you did it. It’s quiet again before he speaks. In the voice that makes him feel older than he is. “I’m worried about you so I’m being even nicer than usual. Is that okay?”

His tone is light, teasing, but there’s more to it than he lets on. You trace a pattern into the worn, fabric arm of the chair you sit in. “Why?” 

“I get worried when you go somewhere I can’t see you.” He says agreeably.

Your face tugs into a frown, strangely mortified by the sincerity of it. “It’s not like I’m a kid anymore. I’ll be fourteen in a few months.”

Caleb laughs. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ll always be a kid.” 

You huff. “That’s not fair. Does that mean I’ll have to beg you like this to do anything for the rest of my life? You’re too much.” 

“At least until you turn eighteen.” Caleb replies, voice airy and content. “And if you’re still a little weakling then, probably a few more years after that too.” 

You groan. “How terrible. What kind of brother are you? So cruel.” You pause  “You’re more like my dad sometimes.” 

“Since you’re my responsibility, I usually have to act as all three.” Caleb says with ease. “You should get used to it.” 

Despite your grievances, your body relaxes exactly the way you expect as you listen to him talk. You yawn out loud,  sleep making your eyes and limbs heavy. 

“Finally tired?” He asks, voice softened. Doting. It’s so instant, you don’t have the will to fight it. “Go sleep. Make sure you eat tomorrow morning and don’t just wait until noon.” 

“Okay, Gege.” You yawn again. “Goodnight. Love you,” 

A long silence stretches between you. You wonder why he hesitates. “Love you too. Now go to bed. And don’t sneak out without telling your teachers again,” 

“Wait, how did you—” 

“I know everything.” He says dismissively. “Goodnight, okay?” 

You pull back and stare at your phone. He’s a little scary sometimes.

 “Yeah. Okay. Night,” 

__ 

At sixteen, you go experience the first real heartbreak of your life. 

It’s less over the actual relationship and more about the events leading to your break-up. 

Your secret boyfriend of five months kissed one of your closest friends. And you caught them both red-handed. 

It was in the gymnasium after school a few weeks ago. You nearly fist fought them both before getting overwhelmed and simply  running away in tears to a nearby playground. Your two other best friends had to pry you out of a bed of mulch and take you home after wiping your tears. 

You have a list of grievances about the situation. You like (?) the guy but you loved your friend - but now you have neither. And all of it happened for a reason you cannot wrap your mind around at all. 

You’re thankful for your other friends who have taken your side in the matter while still trying to get to the bottom of it. And it’s good having them, but in your time of teenage angst - the one person you’d like to tell absolutely can’t know. 

Not telling your older brother is hard. Keeping the secret makes you feel guilty enough, but it’s made harder when he’s home. And he will be for the next two weeks until he has to go back to the dorms. They’re on some kind of spring break. 

Until then, you make it your mission to keep up appearances. Since the one person you don’t want to find out about your relationship is the person who’d find out the fastest. 

Caleb is strict. Has been for as long as you can remember. Though you’ve never explicitly spoken on dating - he has, more than once, “subtly” warned you about having an interest in the opposite sex. You remember how you made stupid heart-eyes to one of his school friends years back and he still brings it up whenever you ask about him and how he’s doing. As if even wanting to know is some kind of betrayal. 

(And well, maybe you do ask just to see him react like that. It’s…funny. It’s not like Caleb needs to know that.) 

You don’t like keeping secrets from your brother. You’re close. Way closer than most people ever are with their siblings. 

Maybe because Caleb has always taken care of you—he feels less like a sibling you can pointlessly squabble with and more like your guardian at times. 

It’s hard for you to lie to him explicitly so the fact you’ve kept the relationship under wraps for five months is kind of impressive. 

You always told yourself, you’d tell Caleb if it ever got serious. Truthfully though, you didn’t think it was going to last. Didn’t even want to accept until your friends pressured you. 

Your now ex-boyfriend is the one who asked you out, which is what pisses you off the most. He’s one of the popular guys in your grade and he’s…nice. Was nice. You don’t think you’d be sad if he simply broke up with you and went out with your friend. You’d think less of him maybe, but it’s not like you’re in love with him. 

It’s all the other stuff that’s weighing you down. It’s getting into a fight with your friend. It’s getting two-timed by the jackass who asked you out first. One you didn’t even like that much. 

(Maybe not at all.) 

It’s wanting to whine and complain about all of this to your older brother who would take your side but not being able to - because you can’t tell him half truths. You don’t have it in you. You barely have it in you to lie to him.

(Truthfully, you think the only reason you’ve been able to all this time is because you’ve kept said boyfriend at arms length somewhat knowingly. You haven’t had a proper kiss.)

Telling Caleb everything is a long time compulsion you don’t know if you’ll ever unlearn.You don’t know if it’s loyalty or gratitude—only that it makes you feel like a dog whose been leashed to a post for most of your life before it gets unchained. 

Even when you’re no longer shackled to it, you find you can’t go anywhere. Being without it doesn’t free you, not really. You find it goes against what you know to try to escape without hearing the click of metal. 

You stay by the post. You tell Caleb everything. It feels outright wrong to lie about something important. 

(And it’s still hard lying about something unimportant.) 

You’re sure it speaks to the depth of your attachment but you always end up spilling your guts to him. Like a child always wanting to please their parents and behave. You know Caleb will accept you, even if he gets angry. But you don’t actually know how he’ll react and that scares you into not wanting to tell him at all. 

The thought of disappointing him is what makes you most uneasy. 

So, you decide that you’ll take it to the grave. It’s your one half-ass rebellion and these are the natural consequences. As long as you process your friendship grief and wear out your anger - it’ll be smoothed over before you know. 

Meticulously, you time your sessions of grieving and angry debriefing phone calls in the hours Caleb is out of the house. You work hard at keeping up as if nothing is happening in your life at all. You feel an unshakeable feeling of guilt the entire time, one that has you waking up in cold sweat but you ignore it because… well, you don’t really know how to fix it. 

(Truthfully - you’re irrationally worried that he’d leave over something so trivial, and you’d be seven and all alone in the world again. As nonsensical as it is, and as much as you want to pretend otherwise, your attachment to Caleb really matters that much to you.) 

You very nearly make it to the finish line of this plan too. Almost. . 

In the middle of your crying session - you answer a knock on the door and assume it’s Granny (who does, at least partially, know what’s going on). You open it without thinking. 

It’s the last person you want to see in the moment. 

You quickly try to shut the door but Caleb is quicker. Slides his unnecessarily huge body through the small gap and shuts it behind him - trapping you both. You stumble back a little, but he catches you by the wrist to make sure you don’t actually fall. 

You feel like a deer in headlights. Red, water rimmed eyes, runny nose, and face puffy - you try to pull your sleeves over your hands and wipe your face. Even though he’s already seen it. You’re too old to be crying like this in front of him. It’s humiliating. 

Caleb grabs your wrists easily before you can wipe them away. You blink away a few unshed tears to get a better look at his face. You inhale, your chest tight - feet like lead as you look at your older brother. His pinched expression, almost pained but still tender. Still gentle. Just seeing it again makes you want to cry. 

“I knew it,” He says. He drops your hands and instead cups your face with his palm, thumb wiping away tears as he cups your cheek. His expression is firm. “What’s wrong, hm?”

It’s like something in you collapses. 

You give into it without any effort. 

Caleb makes it so easy, after all, to be the weakest version of yourself.

With him, there’s no desire to fight what feels inevitable. So you let yourself fall to nothing in Caleb’s arms and cry. You’re torn up over your first real friendship fight so you let yourself lean on him. Just like you do at seven, and ten, and all the years before. Fist your hand tight in the fabric of his shirt like you’re worried he’ll shake you off, even though he never does.) 

(Later, you’ll remember this conversation and realize that there was never any room for anyone else. It was a kind of teenage naivety to think otherwise. 

You’ll hear the sentiment from everyone you know—friends, colleagues, family: the person you can be weakest with is who you should marry. If only you had known that then, too. Maybe accepting it would’ve been easier. Maybe you would’ve known sooner what feeling you’d spend the rest of your adult life chasing) 

Caleb rests his hand on the back of your head as he tucks your face against his chest. It’s warm and soft. The comforting scent of detergent and cologne, undercut by oil and jetfuel. You wish you could bury yourself in.

You stand and cry like that in silence for a long while. Caleb holds you tight without asking any questions, his chin resting on top of your head, patting your back. 

When you pull away from him, ready to explain - he walks himself over to your bed and sits on it. His expression is unreadable. Concerned but trying not to worry too son. 

With his legs wide, he opens his arms out to you to invite you into his lap the way you did when you were kids. You wonder if he’s joking—trying to make you laugh and cheer you up. 

But in the moment you’re so fragile, you tuck your chin and sit anyway. He stiffens briefly, as if surprised but soon enough, strong arms lay drape your waist as he lets you lean into him.

“Ready to talk about it?” 

You fidget. “Aren’t you busy?” 

He shakes his. “I’m all yours.” 

Your chest feels warm and fluttery when he says it. It soothes you. . 

You sniffle, adjusting in his lap. “I’m sorry.” 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” He asks. “You don’t have to,” 

“No, I—” You shift in his lap. “It feels wrong. Not telling you.”

Caleb hums. “You’re at that age. I already know that much. But no matter what I’m on your side, so don’t hide when you’re feeling sad or upset. Okay?” 

“Nn,” You nod. “Yeah. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s really fine. It’s not like I can really be mad at you, right?” 

You make a small, thoughtful noise. “You say that but you’re unexpectedly good at holding grudges.” 

Caleb laughs. “Hm, that’s true. But not with you.” 

You repeat the words to yourself, half-dizzy with a smile. “Not with me.” 

Caleb smiles at you. He holds you a little tighter. You grab hold of his jacket, white knuckling the fabric until your heartbeat settles. 

“So. Do you want to tell me what happened?” 

__ 

( In the end, you tell Caleb everything from start to finish. 

It’s just as you predicted. Once you start, it’s hard to give him anything but the full truth. Caleb listens to you intently without interjecting. Rests his chin on your shoulders, leaving you with nothing but his body language to pick up on his moods. 

He stiffens when you tell him you had a boyfriend. Calms down when you tell him you didn’t like him very much, that all you did was hold hands and cuddle and you still think it was a waste. 

Caleb listens to it all. Hangs onto your every word until you’ve tuckered yourself out. You think of what they say about how a burden shared is a burden halved and hope that it’s fine to depend on him this much all these years later. 

Caleb is silent and steady for the duration of your talk. Towards the end he tells you: “No boy should ever make you cry. Should I get revenge for you?” 

“Gege,” You say exasperated “And what about boys making me cry? That’s all they do from what I can tell.”

He doesn’t refute that. “ That’s true. It’s better to avoid them, really. If I ever make you cry you though, you can hit me,” He replies. You laugh a little.

“I don’t think you would make me cry without good reason.” 

“If I do, I’ll make sure to repent for my whole life after.” He says, joking. Maybe joking. 

Your cheeks warm  “Your whole life feels like a long time.” 

“Is it? You can’t really get rid of me easily, so I think it makes sense.” 

“I guess that’s true. You can’t get rid of me either, you know.” 

Caleb grins at you. “How lucky.”) 

__

At nineteen, you go to a club in the Linkon entertainment district for the very first time. 

Your friends dragged you here. It’s your first year of the Hunter Academy and your first time living away from home. You’ve spent most of the school year completely focused on training and working towards your goals - trying to  be strong enough to work alongside a certain someone and hold your own. 

You’re not here of your own volition, but honestly? It’s not so bad. Drinking and dancing with your friends proves fun for the first couple of hours at least. 

After that gets old though, really more stressful than anything. 

You aren’t supposed to be here in the first place. That’s the main cause of your current unease. The club is 21+ and it was already an ordeal getting in. The longer you stay, the more restless you feel—the more you want to leave before anyone gets caught up in anything. 

You’ve been knocking back drinks all evening, courtesy of some of your friends - and the night is starting to come to a halt for you internally. All the discomfort and overstimulation go from engaging to overwhelming, and your head is starting to spin.

You’re in the section where you and your friends got invited. Apparently there’s someone tonight who's popular in the nightlife scene - son of some rich business man you think. Your friend has been doing you all the solid of keeping him happy. Your eyes flit over to where they dance on the floor and you feel yourself wince just looking at them. 

Shit, your head is throbbing. 

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sink back in your seat and think about what the best strategy is to get out of here. 

All of you should go home honestly. There won’t be major consequences for simply being intoxicated, but sneaking into an establishment like this really might affect your ability to graduate. Your academy is not known for its leniency. 

Aside from that, you’re tired. You should have more energy than this. You would normally, you think. But it’s a Friday and you had taken up some extra training since you had no plans to be out. The addition of alcohol dehydrating you and the sharp and particular pain from stiletto heels makes you lethargic. Dead on your feet. 

It’s later in the night but not so late people are leaving. A second wave of attendees are shuffling in now. You have half a mind to mix with the crowd and leave by yourself. It feels like a good idea at least. 

But then, more people are brought to your section. You’re only half-paying attention as the guy from earlier, the one paying for you all, happily introduces the new group to people already sitting. 

“...And Caleb, it’s good to see you. You’re usually too busy to come to things like this,” 

A pair of eyes bore into you. You freeze completely, eyes glued to your phone screen as you catch a glimpse of the one person you absolutely do not want to be meeting here. 

“Yeah,” A familiar voice says. His voice is light like he’s not noticed anything.”I’m glad I came. I’ve already seen some interesting things.” 

The dull throb in your head turns the corner to a sharp pain. A feeling of complete misery washes over you. Truly, the worst possible outcome. You wonder what Caleb is doing here in the first place. From what you know, this isn’t usually his kind of establishment either. Maybe someone from his dorms dragged him here too? You think it’d be something like that. 

You make the mistake of looking up as Caleb slides in opposite to you with a few other friends. His expression is completely unreadable as your eyes meet across the table. He flashes you a smile that makes your nerves stand on end. All you can do is look away, eyes flitting back down your phone. 

A text appears at the top of your screen. 

from cpt big bro (1:03am): nice to see you. 

A feeling of unease immediately feels you, but when you look back up at Caleb - he’s pretending like you don’t even exist.

You don’t know why you feel so guilty in the first place. Sure, you snuck in here but it’s not like you did something unheard of. And you’re past the legal drinking age in the first place. And the clothes weren’t your idea. You’ll tell him that when he inevitably asks. 

You’re not doing anything so wrong but you’re worried he’ll get the wrong idea. 

(A voice in your head asks: what idea? You tell yourself it’d be embarrassing if your brother thought you were looking for a hook-up. It’s reasonable enough.

 You decide not to interrogate the reasoning any further, even when the feeling doesn’t go away.)

You find your gaze falling in your lap as you try to dissolve the overwhelming feeling of shame and upset just knowing Caleb’s seen you like this. 

It’s worse though to have him ignoring you. You know he’s probably doing it for your sake. Even knowing he’s not malicious doesn’t make it much better. Your eyes stay glued to your phone screen. 

You don’t know how much time passes before someone else joins you at the table. 

A woman this time. 

“Caleb! You actually came,” She says over the music. You watch her from your peripherals as she slides in next to him without hesitation. “I thought Kenji was lying to get more girls to show up.” 

You hear him laugh a little. You think he sounds a little uncomfortable, but maybe you’re reading too much into it. “I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Isn’t that always how that goes?” She hums. Your eyes widen slightly seeing the way she presses herself up against his arm. “But I’m glad you're here. Maybe I can convince you to dance.” 

“You can try,” He says. You know he’s just being amiable. Or at least, you think he’s just trying to be amiable. 

You’ve never really seen Caleb flirt with a girl, so you don’t have a real reference for what does and does not count. 

It’s the first time in all of your life you’ve ever seen Caleb get hit on so closely. You’re used to his popularity of course - but back then, Caleb usually made a point to run away. No one ever got near enough. He’s always been nice about it of course, tries to let people down easy. 

You don’t know the girl who's flirting with him now, but you can tell that they know each other. They’re sitting close, but not enough to be obvious. You can hear them too, though. Hear how she talks to him. It’s not hard to tell that she’s hitting on him. And your brother isn’t reciprocating but he’s not quite turning her down. It doesn’t seem to bother him, enough that when he makes jokes playfully rejecting her - the conversation still doesn’t sour.

They get along, is what you mean. Better than you thought they would. 

Your stomach churns. 

You try not to think about whats making you sick.  But it washes over you all at once. More dizzy  than nauseous. You feel like someone is tying your insides into a coil. The more you try to divert your gaze - the harder it is to ignore it. Caleb glances at you from time to time, but it seems accidental at best. 

Your heart is hammering. You think about how long it’s been since you’ve last seen each other. All the things that have happened while you’re apart. 

When you find you can’t sit and handle anymore, your body makes the decision to leave for you. 

It happens quickly. You stand to your feet, nearly stumbling in your heels as you talk to a friend on the dance floor and make-up a nonsense excuse about needing to leave. She offers to call you a taxi, but by then you’re already making a bee-line to the door and out of the club. 

It’s late when you leave. Your whole body feels like it’s trapped in ice as the unforgiving night air whips your skin and leaves you cold. You stumble down the steps in your heels until you finally make it onto the curb with all the other drunk club-goers trying to get home or sober up.

You’ll flag down a taxi, go home, and pretend nothing happened. You repeat the routine to yourself over and over. 

It feels like the only way you can handle it. Your mind can't process it otherwise. Can’t think too hard on what you might’ve been privy too. 

“Where are you runnin’ off to?” 

You freeze when you hear Caleb’s voice. You have half a mind to break into a sprint but you aren’t sure you can without breaking your ankles with your heels. Another part of you is preening over the fact he came immediately to find you. You turn around and try to walk away briskly - only to feel a warm hand on your wrist, pulling you towards him and making you come to a halt. 

“Let me go,” You mumble. 

He holds you a little tighter. 

“Don’t be like that. No matter how much training you have, I know you can’t run in heels so quit it,” Caleb says, with a sigh. “Why’d you run off?” 

“What do you mean why?” You say, words slurring. “Who’d wanna see—hicc—” 

Caleb frowns at you. “Why’re you trying to be tough if you can barely keep yourself standing up straight?” 

He sighs, bending down. You let out a noise as he undoes the strap of your heel. 

“Take them off,” 

You pout. “How am I supposed to walk home like that?” 

“I’ll carry you on my back,” He replies. “Your ankles with have a hard time if you keep wobbling like that,” 

“My feet will get dirty from the pavement.” 

You’re being difficult on purpose. Drunk and upset, arguing with anything he says. Caleb knows this you’re sure but he doesn’t seem to have a reaction to it besides mild exasperation. Despite that though, he still tends to you. 

He makes a face at you before sighing. You watch as he slides his jacket off of his shoulders and drapes it over you. It’s oversized on him, even more so on you.  It fits more like a dress and covers more than your outfit does. 

When you’ve slipped your arms through it, he drops down onto his knees and undoes the other strap of your heel. He turns around after that, signalling for you to get on his back. You want to refuse him but you find you don’t have the words to do so. You comply with his request, putting your arms around his neck as he lifts you with frightening ease. 

He bends down with you on his back to pick your heels up and carry them.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me anything?” You mumble. Caleb sighs. It makes you bite your lip. 

“It can wait a bit.”  

“Hmph.”

You find you have nothing left to argue with him. You give up on trying to refuse and let him carry you, both hands lifting you up as you keep your arms around his neck. Your cheek pressed against his shoulder, worried your makeup will smear on it. 

You don’t know how long you walk. Your eyes are closed for the duration of it and you only open them again when you sense a change of lighting. The noise of an automatic door and a tired greeting alarms you. You feel embarrassed, suddenly, at the idea that someone else has seen you like this. 

Caleb just greets them as normal.

“Aren’t you gonna let me down already?” 

“Are you feeling uncomfortable?” 

“No, but—”

He doesn’t respond to you further. You get the impression there’s not much meaning to continue arguing so you keep quiet. 

You watch from over his shoulder as he roams the aisles until he comes across cheap pairs of slippers and socks - next to other random household items. He picks the correct size without asking you. Seeing it only adds to the strange feeling you’ve had since leaving the club. 

He goes to self check-out, pays for the sandals, then carries you to one of the few seats and table near the window of the 7/11. Carefully, he sets you down on one, your heels on another, then silently opens the packaging. He drops to his knees and looks up at you in silent question. 

“You don’t need to—” 

He doesn’t say anything when you attempt to refuse him. Keeps quiet  and just waits for you, not unkindly. You frown and hold your foot out to him. He rolls each sock carefully onto your feet, pulling them all the way up over your ankle before the slippers follow. 

“Do they fit okay?”

“Mm,” 

You nod. Caleb hums. Holds his hand out. 

“C’mon. Pick out something to eat or drink so you sober up a bit,” 

“While we talk?” You ask, voice suddenly small. He pauses, smiles just barely, and pats your head with the same firm hand he always does. It makes you want to cry. 

“Yeah. While we talk.” 

You nod as Caleb helps you off the seat. “I’ll go get some water.” 

“Okay,” 

You think of what you want to eat. Childhood memories whisper answers to you. Chips and candy - sweet and salty so you have balance. You remember the way Caleb would cut into his own snack budget for you to get what you wanted. He’d pretend to complain, but he’d smile at you while you ate. 

You pick the same things you used to. You wonder if he’ll notice. 

He returns with two bottles of water. “Did you finish choosing?” 

You nod. His eyes drift to your hands. He cracks another smile that makes you happier then it should.

“I see. Let’s check out then, hm?” 

Your heart flutters. You follow him quietly. He goes to the cashier the second time around - amiable, friendly and easing some unspoken tension. Apologizes for the inconvenience and, with familiar diligence, asks if there’s a recycling bin for him to toss trash nearby. The cashier offers to do it for him. 

Afterwards, he holds his hand out to you like it’s only natural for you to want to hold it. You take it. 

Of course, you do. 

He guides you outside, and the two of you sit on the curb. An expectant look appears on his face when he dusts off place beside him where he’s hoping you’ll sit. You do, knees touching -  folding your hands into your lap. He opens the bottle of water and hands it to you. 

“We could’ve just shared one,” You offer.

“I’m not so stingy,” Caleb says.. You purse your lips. You want to tell him that’s not what you mean, but you don’t want to ask yourself what you do mean. 

You take it from him and drink. 

Silence stretches over the seemingly endless night. The streets of Linkon prove to be busy and limitless. Given the district you’re in, you’d expect it to be more packed - but the streets are desolate. Proof of life resides in the lights of buildings and clubs but now, here—it feels like you’re the only two people left in the world. 

It’s quiet for a long while. You sit like that until you break the ice. 

“You still haven’t asked me anything.” 

“Well,” Caleb looks at you from the corner of his eyes and shrugs, taking a drink. “I can kind of guess why you were there in the first place. Don’t have much of a clubbing spirit, you know. Your friends probably told you to go right?” 

You nod.“You’re not upset?” 

“Mm,” Caleb sighs. “Not at you for just going. It’s hard to be mad at you especially when you…” He trails off, an almost imperceptible smile on his. He shakes his head before continuing and you miss the window to ask about what that was all about. He glances at you again. “Your dress is too short, though.” 

You feel heat crawl up your skin. “It’s not that bad. And I’m nineteen,” 

“So? You’re still my baby sister. Naturally I won’t approve, right? You know that much.”

You bend over your knees, pouting. You feel weirdly happy but try not to think about it. “You’re so unreasonable sometimes.” 

He clicks his tongue. “I’m being very reasonable right now,” 

“...Mm.” 

Tension lingers in the air. You open the chips Caleb got you and tilt it his way. A peace offering. He takes one. 

“Why’d you run off?” 

You make a face. Will yourself to not cry as you tuck your chin. 

“...I dunno.” 

He glances at you. You miss the knowing expression on his face. “Even if you were doing a good job of lying, you know that wouldn’t work on me right? Did something happen? Something you can’t tell me?” 

“Nothing happened but you—”

Caleb interjects. “Me? So it’s because of me then.” 

You bite your tongue. Caleb is lost in thought. 

“I didn’t mean to ruin your night showing up. Didn’t know you’d even be there. It’s not like I’m mad or anything.” Caleb starts. 

“It’s not that,” You say quickly. The frustration just thinking about it makes your throat well up. You can feel it. You drink water trying to wash it down. 

“Then?” 

It slips out of you, exasperated as you sit up and turn to look up at him. 

“You were ignoring me,” You say, voice wet and shaky - hands fisted at your knees, shoulders tight. You still haven’t sobered up much. Your lips curl into a frown. Caleb is stunned into silence. “You didn’t even… I thought you were mad at me. And then that girl sitting next to you was—”

You stop yourself. Caleb looks at you wide-eyed. Opens his mouth to say something but closes it again soon after. He processes what you’ve said slowly, though he doesn’t seem surprised by all of it. 

“I wasn’t mad at you. Surprised, but not so mad. Even if I were mad, I wouldn’t ignore you. It’d make more sense for me to drag you out myself, don’t you think?” 

You huff. “It felt like you were mad at me. And—”

You want to ask. Who was she? Why was she so close to you? Why didn’t you push her away? Do you like her? 

Nothing comes out right. You bite your lip. “That girl… was she your friend?” 

Caleb stops. He looks awkward all of a sudden. “Huh? No, no. She’s my senior. She has someone else she likes,” 

“She was hitting on you,” You say bluntly, sticking your feet out. “And you didn’t stop her.” 

For a brief moment, you swear he looks amused. His expression settles again quickly. “I know she’s not being serious so I didn’t feel like there was any point causing a rift.” 

“She’ll get the wrong idea. If you don’t turn her down properly and just let her—” Be all over you. Touch you so close. Get in your space. “...flirt with you.” 

A beat. “You think I should turn her down properly then?” 

It hangs in the air. You want me to turn her down?

You bite the inside of your lip. “Yeah.” 

“Will it make you feel better?” 

Your eyes meet. For a brief second you feel like someone has stolen all the air from your lungs in one go. You look down. 

“Yeah,” 

Caleb’s breath hitches just a touch before he speaks. “Okay.” 

He opens his arm up to invite you closer and slot into his side the way you used to. Blinking wetly, you scoot across the concrete and tuck yourself under the safety of his arm. Your face is close to his chest. He smells like cologne and iit makes your heart beat feel erratic. His hand comes up to stroke your head and you let him soothe you like you have so many times before. 

“No matter what happens, there’s nothing you could do or say that’d make me angry enough to ignore you. I’d never ignore you if I didn’t think you wanted me to,” 

“I never want you to ignore me, ever.” You say immediately. “Never ever.” 

He chuckles. The way it reverbs in your body makes you dizzy. “Okay, princess. Noted. Do you wanna sit a little longer or should I call a car for you?” 

You tuck into his side. It’d be nice if you never had to leave him ever again. Pressing into him, your words muffle in the fabric of his shirt. You tug at the hem. 

“Wanna stay here. Just for a bit.” 

He hesitates above you. But a while later, you feel his lips at the crown of your head - right at your hairline. His voice is gentle. “Sure. As long as you want,” 

__

At twenty-two, you often dream of your older brother. 

At first, it’s grief. Caleb dies not long after your birthday and in the months that pass - the warm memories of your childhood seem to follow you into sleep. Some nights, it feels kind to see him. In your dream, you run into his arms and he holds you tight when you tell him you missed him.

Grief holds the rest of you hostage. You want for nothing and think of nothing except your brother. You miss Grandma too, of course you do. 

But there’s nothing in the entire world like a brother. Like your brother—who you could ask anything of. It’s hard to unpack the loneliness you feel. Hard to explain it to other people. 

In the months you correct yourself from saying have to had—and watch peoples eyes change into one of sorrow and pity. At the worst of it, you can’t even pretend to think of that as a kindness. Can’t even thank them for being nice. At the worst of your grief, you find yourself especially angry at being pitied. You look at people and want to say they don’t understand. They don’t know what you lost. There are no words that make it digestible. You bite your tongue, give a tight-lipped smile. 

What you wanted to say was this: How dare you act like you understand what I lost? How dare you feel sorry when you don’t know the half of it? My brother is dead. A piece of me is missing.

You never say any of it. You bury the words in the black vast of your grief and throw yourself at finding answers. 

Your feelings about the incident change the more you find out. About Grandma and the abomination in your heart—and you cycle from anger to sorrow to unease.

They never change about Caleb though. The apparition of him, warm and broad, cycles through your dreams every now and again. Some nights, you wake up expecting to be seven years old again—clinging to your older brother, the only thing you know in the world that’s made you lose everything. 

Most nights, you wake up from dreamless sleep and feel yourself wanting to cry. 

(You don’t cry often when he’s gone, even when you should. 

Who would be there to hold you now when you do?) 

When you finally see Caleb again, see him alive—your emotions become just as complicated as your mind has been in the months of his absence. 

You’re ecstatic, you’re angry, you’re terrified, you’re so so sad. You are all of these things at the same time. 

And then, you realize that the death of Caleb did not only change you. Your older brother comes back to you. He’s warm, kind, and gentle sometimes. But it’s not the same. There’s something about him, inexplicable, that is changed forever. 

Caleb dies and comes back wrong—but this only strengthens your resolve. To do what, exactly? You aren’t sure. You don’t know what you want and you still know nothing about the Aether Cores. Or about what Caleb does. 

All you do  know is that your older brother has come back to you, and you are empty without him. You’d rather have him wrong than not have him at all. You’ll fix him or become wrong with him before you ever let go of him again.

(Even the way he is now, sometimes, he seems worried about ruining you. You want to say sometimes—then ruin me. You know what he’d say if you did. He knows he’d tell you to watch your tongue and not to say what you don’t mean.

You’ve thought about it, though. You’d rather that then he disappear again. You’d rather you know what's going on then not. ) 

Things have changed. Caleb has changed.

You have changed, most of all. 

When you hear from Caleb for the first time he no longer wants to be your brother - that he’s tired from playing house with you, your first reaction is devastation. The memory of that dread is so strong, you still feel it when you replay it all in your mind. Caleb above you, caging you in, unreadable—no longer what you know. 

You don’t think about anything. You can’t. It destroys you completely to hear him say it. Makes you want to cling to him and beg. Cry loudly enough to wake the version of him that did want to be your brother. That loved you unconditionally. 

When you have to go the next morning and find a memory of your childhood tucked away - you realize not all of him is lost to you. That the parts of him you loved so dearly have not entirely disappeared. 

So you stay, and try to mend the broken pieces of your relationship back together.

At twenty-two, you often dream of your brother. 

When he comes back to you, you think you’ll be given one more dream before he disappears. You figure the real thing is back in your hands. It’ll go back to the way it was before, where your sleep is long and dreamless but that’s fine. As long as you can wake-up and see the sun, without feeling like yours was stolen from you—anything is fine. 

At twenty-two, even after you learn he’s alive, you often dream of your brother. 

The first time you ever have a wet dream of Caleb is just after he comes back to Linkon. 

After you sit in the garden with Caleb and blow the hydrangea petals away from his face, and his hand comes up to touch you. After he promises to take good care of the flower he takes back to SkyHaven. After he tells you there was no way he’d be able to stay away from you. 

When you sleep the night after he returns home, you dream of Caleb again. 

This time you’re in your bedroom—the one from your childhood home, that Caleb spent so many years taking up space in. You dream of your brother on top of you and you both look a little younger. His face contorted with pleasure, and your hand being the one to give it to him. The image missing from the waist down, all you can see is the clear view of him over you. Making it so obvious what you’re doing. Doing together.  

You wake up from your dream with a feeling like something’s crushing your chest. A wheezing breath as you struggle to calm down. A distinct feeling of wetness between your legs that cling to your PJs when you stumble into your bathroom - trying to relieve yourself and being confronted with the reality of what just happened. 

The first time you have a wet dream about Caleb—you only feel shame. You tell yourself that it’s a fluke, and that dreams are meaningless anyway. It makes you violated to think of him like that. You can’t control what you do in your sleep. You decide not to dwell. 

Weeks pass and you see Caleb again. You share fruit and more conversation, and the following night - you have another wet dream. This one, more vivid than the last. Different. You dream of Caleb with a baton to your neck and the tension in the room when he caged you in his arms. In your dreams he’s cruel as he drags the metal end down your body, pushes it against your—

You wake up the next morning almost inconsolable. 

The cycle repeats for as long as you see him. Every time Caleb appears in your life, you dream of him the next night. You wake up in shock, wet down your legs and spend all morning trying to suppress it down as far as you can. 

You tell yourself all sorts of things when it happens. You reason with yourself. Dreams are nonsense. You can’t control them. It’s your brother. You don’t think of him like that.

(You think of all the times you’ve seen him since he’s returned. All the ways his eyes soften for you, all the ways his hands linger—how ever since he’s denied being your brother at all, you think of what that might make you now. 

It breaks your heart to not have him as your brother. Your precious family. An unbreakable bond. The one you love most. He touches you the way brothers aren’t supposed to, and you remind yourself of what you can’t have. You remind yourself of what loss you would feel first.

He always looks pained when he touches you like that, though. And, for some strange reason, sometimes you want to tell him: Did you know I dreamt of you touching me? So you don’t need to make that face. Like you’re wrong. My dreams couldn’t make you this gentle.)

The harder you try to force it down, the harder it is to pretend it’s nothing. You push and push and push—but each time you see him, the cycle repeats.

Eventually, it’s too hard to pretend. You refuse to name it, or think about it—but when you let your mind stop forcing it so deep into your subconscious, it’s easier to reconcile. 

It doesn’t go away. But your skin prickles with embarrassment, and you sigh, and you move on from it. Even if the dreams don’t stop, you can go on about your day when you leave it all alone.

You think maybe, if you and Caleb never saw each other again, it might even work to rid you of the dreams completely.

But he’s your brother—your precious family, the one you love most. You see him all the time. Whenever your schedule allows it, he’s the first person you check with to see if you can come spend time with him. Even if he can’t be with you, you stay over at his place to eat his food and watch TV on his expensive flatscreen. 

It makes you feel like you live together again. 

(You try not to reel at the thought. It’s normal for siblings to stay together from time to time. It’s like a sleep over. That’s all.) 

So it’s not unusual for you anymore to drop by his place. You even have a key. 

(Your key, you think. Caleb put a stupid green apple cover on the top part of it. It’s for you, and only you.) 

Even when you do come over, sometimes you only see him at night. You have little conversations before you need to go to sleep (or rather, when he makes you go to sleep.) But it still feels better than only seeing him sometimes. 

So it’s not unusual for you to be here in your PJs and watching something stupid while draped on Caleb’s couch. 

It is unusual, however, to have him come home so soon.

PART TWO: SO ONLY SAY MY NAME, IT WILL BE HELD AGAINST YOU.

You pick your head up as soon as you hear the security system for Caleb’s apartment announce someone at the door. The time reads 6:56pm.

Heavy footfall makes you pick yourself up, crawling to the edge of the couch and standing on your knees to catch sight of him. You lean forward. 

“You’re home early.”

It takes him a second to register who's talking, but he smiles slightly when he does. Turnt towards the doors, he’s leaned against a wall as he undoes the laces of his steel-toed boots. 

“So are you,”

You give him a melodic hum. “I got off since we have a holiday. I have Monday off too.” 

“Yeah? That’s good. You should try to rest up some,” 

“I will. Gotta catch up on my shows first though,” You reply thoughtfully. “I’m like half-way through ‘em.” 

“Workin’ hard I see. Try not to over-exert yourself.” He adds, playfully sarcastic. You nod. 

You answer him in silly earnest. “Of course. I’m more relaxed here so don’t worry.” 

He pauses as he finally stands back up. You see him at the other side of the room with a smile. 

“Yeah?” 

You feel something in your stomach that you choose to ignore. “Yeah. Plus I don’t have to eat my own groceries.” 

“It’s better you eat mine than me wasting them,” He says with a shrug. 

“How generous of you.” 

“Right?” 

You lean forward, resting more of your weight on the couch. “Did they just send you home early too? Or is it some special Colonel privilege?” 

You see him shake his head as he slides off his coat and walks over to the fridge, grabbing a plastic bottle of water out of it before taking a few long drinks. 

“Mm, kinda the first.” He says thoughtfully. “I got injured in the field today, had to go to the infirmary. It’s a minor injury but I checked in with my commanding officer and he told me I might as well go home.” 

You frown. “What kind of injury?” 

“It’s really fine,”

“Caleb.” 

He sighs, turning towards you. The open fridge door illuminates him. “Just got a bruise along my thigh from how I fell. Nothing broken.” He says. You’re still frowning at him. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“How can you be fine if they sent you home?” 

“It’s not like that,” 

“I don’t believe you,” You say petulantly. Caleb shuts the fridge door with his hip as he laughs. 

“What, you want me to show it to you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“It’s on my thigh. I’d have to take off my pants,” He says, laughing. He joins you on the couch - sitting where you were laying—eyeing you while he waits for you to come join him. You narrow your eyes suspiciously but crawl over to him anyway, sitting beside him with your legs up. “Unless you’re really just wanting me to strip, promise it’s fine. I’ve had it worse,”

“That’s not a good thing. If it were me you’d be freaking out already and fussing over me.” 

“It’s different,” 

“Is not,” 

“Is too. My little sisters still a bit of weakling, see—if I don’t take good care of her she’ll end up hurting herself even worse,” Caleb says, voice high. 

“I’m not even weak. Maybe not as strong as you but not weak.” 

“When you get stronger than me, we can talk about who gets to worry about who,”  He says, flicking your forehead lightly. You pretend to flinch at the injury. 

“You let me do whatever I want except worry about you.” 

“You got it. Glad you’re getting up to speed.” 

You elbow him. Caleb laughs. 

You sit back with your knees to your chest, frowning. Caleb leans back, arm stretched on the back of the couch. Inching closer to him subconsciously, your brow furrows as you think about his injury. 

It’s like he reads your mind.

“You’re really worried about it.” He murmurs.

You purse your lips. “No shit.” 

“Don’t cuss,” 

“I’m twenty-two!” 

“So?” He raises his eyebrow. 

“You make me want to strangle you sometimes.” 

“If you succeed I’ll be impressed.”

You glare at him. “I’ll make sure to wait until you’re fully recovered so it counts,” 

He relaxes into the couch, eyes filled with mirth. “Smart move.” 

“You’re still in your outside clothes. Don’t you want to wash up first?” 

“Do I smell bad?” 

“No, that’s not it. But if you get too comfortable, you might not want to get up to do it, you know?” 

“I’m not like a certain someone, so I’m not worried about that.” Caleb says. You huff as he continues on. “I just wanted to sit with you for a bit first. Is that not okay?” 

“I didn’t say all of that. Don’t put words in my mouth, jeez.” 

He hums. “Just checking,” 

Comfortable quiet  settles between you as Caleb sits and watches your drama with you intently.

You relax further into the couch as you settle back in, once again engrossed in your show. It’s a period and fantasy drama about a once noble woman getting married against her will to a supposedly cruel emperor. Crude description aside, it has high political stakes, violence, and good writing. 

The romance aspect of the show was what drew you in more-or-less, but it’s a slowburn between the main couple. You’ve mostly been watching for the high-tension plot. It captures both your attention and seemingly Caleb’s too. 

“Wait,” Caleb interrupts half-way through an episode. “I want to watch the rest with you but I need to shower,” 

You smile at him. “It’s good right? It’s not a lot of romance but there’s other stuff. We can watch it together after you wash-up and maybe…we can have a drink together.” 

“You’re so interested in that,” 

“I want to know what kind of drunk you are. It’s not fair you’ve seen me drunk and I haven’t,” 

“Pfft,” He rubs your head with hand, amused. “What kind of reason is that? But you know what? Sure. Order whatever you want with my card while I go shower.” 

“Yay!” 

You pause the TV as Caleb stands up and stretches, fishing for his wallet and passing you his card. Snatching it from between his fingers, you give him a mischievous look that makes him laugh. 

“Go shower,” 

“I am, I am,” He holds his hands up. “I’ll be quick,” 

__

You watch your drama late into the evening. 

You drink casually with Caleb as you binge watch the final few episodes of the season you started on. You take a break later in the night to have dinner delivered to you, but afterwards - you decide to keep watching. 

Caleb wasn’t lying when he told you he holds his drink well. You’ve both been knocking them back since eight pm. Even with the time to sober up in between, he seems like he hasn’t had a single thing to drink the entire time. 

You feel far from wasted, a warm meal in your stomach settling some of inebriation - but you still feel somewhat tipsy. At least enough to have that pleasant, warm, loose-limbed buzzed. You’re sober enough that Caleb doesn’t get on your case about drinking enough water - though you sure it’ll be a different story in another hour or two if it keeps going. 

Half-past midnight - you’re two episodes deep into the third season of your drama. 

Relaxed, you’re half-way draped on Caleb - legs in hips lap and nursing another cheap can of beer. After several episodes of action and violence - the story is starting to get back to the romance aspect for the main couple. 

Maybe it’s your fault for not thinking it through, but you’re really not expecting a graphic sex scene to play so soon after so much high plot. 

In the first place, it doesn’t start out like a sex scene. The main character went to go visit her injured husband after he returned from battle. Sweet, you thought. Maybe you’d get to see them have some intense, longing eye-contact like they’ve been having for a while now. 

You aren’t sure when exactly it takes a left turn. You’re tipsy and comfortable and warm. On your phone looking things up on social media. 

They kiss once, then twice before a breathy moan cuts through the comfortable.  

Before you can scramble to find the remote and scrub through it, the scene changes instantly in temperature. A few tepid kisses rapidly go from chaste to deep, all tongue and teeth. 

Near full blown nudity flashes across your T.V. screen as a strange heat creeps up your neck. You feel like you’ve had enough mental torment when you see the male lead kiss his way down the female leads neck. It’s more uncensored then you thought. 

Your voice is trembling a little. “We should uhm,” You swallow thickly. “Where’s the remote..?” 

Caleb feels a little… different. He seems startled hearing you speak, looking at you with lidded eyes. “Not sure. Think you had it last,”

“Oh, right. I don’t,” Another moan rips through the tension between you. It takes your full body effort not to jump. “....really remember where I put it,” 

“You want me to help you look?” 

You blink at him. “I mean… we should, probably look for it. Since, uhm… you know.” 

“Are you uncomfortable?” Caleb interrogates. You stare at him. 

“You aren’t?” 

Caleb is quiet for a long time, like he’s thinking hard about the answer. 

“I feel fine,” Is what he says after what feels like forever. 

“You feel… fine.” 

He nods without looking at you. “We can skip it if you want. Probably have to get up to find the remote, though.”

You sink back in the couch, your face feeling warm. “It’s fine, then.” 

You’re a little startled as the couple on T.V starts to really have sex - at least more than foreplay. It’s not full frontal, but the sounds and angles are enough to get the point across. Caleb just… watches. Relaxed.

“You sure?” He offers, glancing at you again. “It’s fine if it’s too much for you,” 

Frowning, you sit up slightly. “What do you mean too much for me?” 

“Hm?” 

“You’re saying it like you’re used to it,” 

Caleb gives you another glance. Assess you once or twice before looking back at the T.V. 

“Does it matter if I am or I’m not?” 

You find yourself at a loss for words. Is he used to this? That can’t be the case, right? 

“You never dated anyone when we were growing up.” 

Caleb nods. “You don’t really need to date someone for something like that, though it’s better that way.” 

You find yourself shocked by his answer. He’s changed a lot, you know that but—

But it feels wrong. You can’t imagine him just hooking up with someone and having a one-night stand. He’d only ever do it with a girlfriend. So if he has any experience, it’d have to be with someone like that. 

He smiles at you. “You’re making a scary face.” 

You look up at him, unsure of what face you should be making. The question slips out before you can stop to think about whether or not you should even ask it. 

“So are you… used to it?” 

He pauses before leaning in. “This is the second time you’ve asked,” 

“That’s…” 

“I don’t think it’s the kind of thing someone’s little sister should ask their older brother right?” 

You snap your mouth shut. Caleb leans a little closer. “Right?” 

“You’re not answering,” You whisper. Your foreheads touch.

“Is there a specific answer you’re looking for?” Caleb says. 

Your eyes widen, teeth pressing against your lip as you tear your gaze away from his face. . “No,” 

“Is that what my answer should be or are you answering what I just asked?” 

You don’t give him a reply. 

Caleb lets out a soft breath of laughter before he finally seems to decide he’s teased you enough. He gets like this more and more lately. Most times you cool off from it quickly but… 

You aren’t sure what drives you to make a move. What makes you tug him back to you by the front of his shirt when he tries to pull away. If it’s the alcohol, or the jealousy that makes you do it. It’s hard to say what the source of your heart pumping so hard is—only that it’s all Caleb’s doing. 

Your hands fist in the front of his shirt as you drag him forward and kiss him as hard as you possibly can, only barely avoiding biting down with your teeth. Chaste but harsh, you press your lips together with nothing but pure desperation, air pushing hard through your lungs as you do. For a minute or two, longer than a kiss should last. 

And then, you pull away. Out of breath like you just ran a marathon, cheeks hot and flushed. Your first kiss that you initiated.  It’s almost mundane. 

Embarrassed, your first instinct is to jump off the couch and lock yourself in the bathroom. But Caleb knows you. Even better than you know yourself. 

He catches your wrist as he leans towards you. His expression is unreadable. 

“You kissed me,”  He says, completely entranced. “You did right? I didn’t just dream that?” 

“It’s your imagination. You must be drunk,” 

He laughs good naturedly. “Maybe I am.” 

Your frown deepens. How do you refuse him when he acts like that? 

Your heart feels like a jackhammer against your ribcage. You can’t. You really can’t. You shouldn’t have—

“I didn’t mean to k-kiss you,” 

Blatant heartache fills his eyes. It feels like something is crushing your chest. “Is that so?” 

You squeeze your eyes, relenting only a little. Your voice is barely above a whisper. “We can’t.”

Caleb scoffs “Why? Because you see me as your brother?” 

“You are my brother.  You are and you always will be, and I don’t want to lose that. I can’t, I can’t. You’re—” 

“Why can’t you?” His voice is raw, almost desperate. Trying so hard to understand you. It makes you hurt seeing him like that. “What can I do to become more to you?” 

“You’re already`—” Everything to me. “You’ll always be the most important person to me.” 

His hands grip tighter, devastation darkening the familiar aura of warmth you’ve come to love. Like he’s at the precipice of something considering what he should do. It takes him a while to come upon answers. Staring at you so desperately before closing his eyes, loosening his grip like he’s ready to let you go.

He looks like he makes a choice then. Really makes one. You can already predict what’ll do. What smile he’ll give you but it feels different from other times.

You hold onto him before he can, hand fisted in his shirt. He startles again, softens, not agitated despite how wishy-washy you’re being.

“It’s not that I don’t want you,” You say, so quietly it almost evades you both. “But I don’t want to lose you as my brother if we become more than that.” 

Silence falls between you. 

“You won’t lose me,” He replies, gently and easily. Your eyes meet. It’s nice. “I want to be everything to you, remember? All of it. I want you to only think of me for the rest of our life. For us to only need each other. You don’t need to give anything up. When have I ever said no to you?” 

You turn away from him, shaking your head. “You said that you never saw me as family, that you wouldn’t be—” 

Caleb stops you. “I want to be everything to you. Everything. I want us to only need each other. I had to make you understand. From the start, I never intended to give anything up for anyone else.”

“But that’s…” 

“I don’t care if it’s wrong,” He says, reading your mind. “I’m asking what you want. Tell me who you want me to be. I’ll do all of it for you. 

You glance down, away from him - guilt, remorse, fear. You’re resolve is wavering, but you’re too afraid to say it out loud. 

His voice softens. A hand, big and warm and kind, cups your cheek. You know. Know every scar, every touch. 

“Tell your big brother what you want and he’ll give it to you.” 

Something in you shatters. The weak resistance you’ve been trying to hold onto so desperately, denying yourself of what you’ve wanted deep down all this time. Having it offered to you, handed to you—proves to be too much. It all comes tumbling down. 

Your voice comes out like a whine. Your dependency more than shows. 

“Touch me,” You gasp, voice wet with tears. Caleb cracks a slight smile. “Touch me, please—want you so bad. Don’t want anyone else to have you.” 

Caleb looks elated. Adoring. Madly and terribly in love. 

“What a crybaby, hm?” He pulls away from you, standing up before scooping you in his arms “Here. Hold onto me. I’ll carry you,” 

“Caleb, I’m too—” 

He stops you. “I have a bionic arm. Don’t say you’re too heavy. It could carry ten of you.” 

He keeps good on his promise. You wrap your arms around Caleb’s neck as he picks you up. Wrapping your legs around his waist, a gasp leaves your mouth as his hands rest under your thighs - lifting you as he walks you to his room. It reminds you of when you were little though a lot has changed since then. 

The realization makes you nervous. 

“The TV is still playing.” You mumble..

“You won’t be able to hear it from my room,” 

“This is embarrassing,” 

“You’ll live.”  Caleb hums. 

“I hate you,” 

Caleb opens his bedroom door with his hip and closes it the same way, walking you to the end of his bed and dropping you on to his mattress. He leans over you, hands on either side of your thighs to keep himself up - inches away from your face. 

“Don’t say things you don’t mean. It’ll make me sad.” He says sweetly.

You pout. “Sorry,” 

He laughs a little. “It’s okay,” 

This close to you, you feel a strange warmth glow your whole body. You crane your neck up to kiss him chastely, pulling away and feeling shy again. 

“You taste like beer,” 

Caleb stares at you for a long time, smiling slightly. Dazed. “Should I go brush my teeth?” 

You look down, away from his face, your hands fiddling with the ends of his shirt. “No…” 

He presses his forehead to yours, noses brushing. “How can you be so cute, hm?” 

“Quit that,” You whine.

“If you get this embarrassed just hearing you’re cute, you’ll have a hard time later on.” 

You blink up at him owlishly. He laughs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“I’m barely holding it together, you know?” 

You look up at him. 

“What do you wanna do to me?” 

His eyes seem to dilate.  “Don’t ask me that,” 

“Tell me. I want to know,” 

He laughs breathlessly. “That’s unfair,” 

“I don’t have to be fair with you,” You say petulantly. “Tell me,” 

“I’ve spoiled you too much.” Caleb says, faux regret. “Even if you get scared, you can’t run away.” 

“I won’t get scared,” 

“Really?” Caleb hums. He moves to the side, his mouth next to your ear - voice barely audible. He puts his hands over yours as he towers over you. “You sound confident, but you know—I’ve wanted to touch you for so long. So badly that it scares me just thinking about it. Can you handle that?” 

It’s a confession you think, as much as it’s dirty talk. He pulls back and you’re face to face again. 

“I’m not scared of you. Even if you can’t control yourself I won’t be scared.” You tell him, headstrong as always.

His smile falters. “I don’t want to hurt you,” 

“I know you like to call me a weakling but you know I’m not really made of my glass,” You stare at him, eyes tracing over his features. “It’ll be hard for you to break me in one go. Might’ve be fun,” 

He tsks. “Don’t talk like that. I’d prefer to treasure you.” 

You look at him for a long time quietly. 

“I dreamt of you.” 

“Hm?” 

You feel your face flush, but for some strange reason - you have an urge to tell him. The words come easy. Maybe you’ve just been waiting for a reason to confess. 

“Of you touching me,” Caleb’s eyes go wide. You smile a little. “Used to dream of you when you were, you know… but it wasn’t the way I dream of you now.” 

“How do you dream of me now?” His voice is strained. 

“They’re dirty dreams,” You say, fidgeting. “Sometimes I’m touching you and making you feel good. But most of the time, it’s you doing whatever you want to me.” 

His voice is hoarse. “Yeah?” 

“Mm,” You lock eyes. You can see it in him. It almost feels cruel, but you’re not saying it to tease him. “I had a wet dream about when you were interrogating me. You were being mean in that one. Really mean,” 

“I already said sorry about that,” 

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” 

He swallows. “Oh,” 

“Yeah, oh.” You slide your hand up his arms, squeezing the back of his biceps as he leans over you. Look up at him with mutual love. “I’ll only say it once so please listen carefully: I’m fine with anything if it’s you.” 

It’s unexpected when Caleb tackles you to the bed. Not to kiss you, rather—but to hug you. You squeal as you both drop onto the mattress with your legs hanging off the edge. Caleb’s full weight crushes you, trapping you in his arms. You find yourself laughing a little, giggly as you feel him squeeze you tight enough to crush you.

“You’re squishing me, Caleb.” 

He laughs breathlessly, rolling you both to the side. Pulling away with your face inches apart, he beams. 

“Do you know that I’m crazy about you? Or do you say things like that not even knowing?” 

“I don’t know,” You say, burying your face against his chest. “I just know you take good care of me. I want to take good care of you too,” 

A spectrum of emotions pass through Caleb’s features at once at the admission. It’s the most vulnerability he’s ever shown you.

His body stiffens. He takes a deep breath before pulling away from you. You watch him innocently as he pushes himself up closer to the headboard. Rolling onto your stomach, you stare at him as he rolls onto his side. 

“More comfortable this way, right?” 

Consider without trying, your face warms. Caleb’s voice is whisper soft. “C’mere.” 

You push yourself up until you’re closer to him, legs no longer hanging off the edge.

Within his reach, Caleb’s hand find your waist. He’s strong, you forget it all too easily—until he’s manhandling you to be in his grasp. Careful but demanding. Rolling on his back, he pulls you onto his lap until you’re straddling him. 

The view proves too much for you both. His face is pink. A sheepish smile on his face. 

“Regretting it?” 

You shake your head quickly, careful not to rest your weight on his lap. He rests one of his hands on your thigh, closer to your knee and steals a glance at you. 

Like this, you become aware of him for the first time. Consciously, as if he’s become a completely different person. All the things you’d never allow yourself to consider, slowly draw into focus. Like seeing him with a new set of eyes.

You notice every detail. Sparking arousal and curiosity, you put your hand on his chest and just stare. Unconsciously, your fingers reach for the dog-tag necklace you gifted him - straightening it. Metal warmed underneath your fingertips, you center it on his shirt. At the dip of his muscles where his chest is. 

Fitted tank-top shows off enough to give you an idea of what’s underneath. Smooth, alabaster skin. Muscles bulking underneath the ribbed cotton - soft and supple from lack of tension, rising and falling with each breath. Your thumb smooths over the silly apple-shaped pendant, the raised letter of the dogtags. The brief skin to skin makes the air feel electric. 

You do it unthinkingly, really. Following your instinct, you rest your hand on his chest before sliding them up closer to his neck. Defined clavicles, the long  column of his throat and how it leads to the angled curve of his jaw. Eventually, your hand finds his face. His boyish features—handsome but youthful. Caleb leans into the touch. His usual, playful teasing nowhere to be found. It makes you jolt in surprise. His expression is painted by desire, a rosy flush to what's an otherwise perfect face. 

His voice grows thick. An octave deeper than you’re used to. “Having fun?” 

“Nn,” You shift under the weight of his gaze. “Sorry,” 

“S’fine,” He says, pressing his cheek to your palm. “You can touch me however you want.” 

Hearing it embarasses you. But your reply comes quickly. “You too,” 

Caleb smiles shakily. His hand slides up your thigh. It’s slight, barely there. His hands are trembling. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

“We’ve kissed before,” 

He shakes his head. “It won't be like before.” 

“I don’t have any experience,”

Caleb laughs breathlessly. “I don’t care.” 

You frown, but let yourself fall forward. Suddenly inches apart, your eyes widen. Caleb is staring at you this time. His eyes soaking in your expression, gaze falling onto your lips and staying there. They flicker back to yours for silent permission. 

You meet his eyes completely assured. He swallows and cranes his neck, his hand coming up to your face to cradle it. His thumb traces your lips, inching himself closer and closer. You can hear his breath. Feel it on your face from how close you are. 

Cupping your nape, he presses his lips to yours with unfathomable tenderness—undercut with the hottest flames of desires you’ve ever felt. It’s hard to describe it. All of the kisses you’ve ever had in your life have been Caleb’s, but this one really is different.

An unfamiliar desperation fills it despite being a gentle press of lips. He pulls away and you miss him. Try to chase it as he speaks against your mouth. 

“Open your mouth, baby. Breathe through your nose,” 

You listen to your older brother obediently, mouth parting as he leans in to kiss you again. Soft at first before pulling you down deeper into him by your. A moan escapes you subconsciously and you feel Caleb shiver. Eyes closed, you let him guide you through it. He controls the depth, the pace. You kiss deeply like that, holding each other before he pulls away again. 

Every time you part, you feel a strange pang of sadness. Caleb never leaves you like that for too long 

Your mind is hazy with desire as you fall into a pace with him. He breathes hard each time he pulls away from you, seems overwhelmed each time he kisses you again. Switching between deep kisses to chaste one, your lips throb from the overwhelming intensity of it. His mouth perfectly warm, lips soft and full. Wet as the kiss deepens but not unpleasantly. A tingly sensation that makes your skin prick. 

You make a noise of surprise when Caleb slips his tongue against your mouth. But you don’t dislike it. Rather, out of curiosity, you copy him. 

(A habit of your childhood—to copy your older brother and keep what you like from him as your own. )

Caleb inhales when you mirror him. Your eyes flicker open briefly to see his face, pleased by the draw of his eyebrows, before letting them close again. 

There’s nothing intimidating about kissing Caleb. Every fear you harbor about how you should do it is washed away by the sheer force of your lust for one another. Like a gap of communication has finally been bridged—with your soft tongues sliding against each other, brushing against his palate, open mouth panting, subconsciously rocking your hips. Each second of doubt is brushed away by the overwhelming feeling of mutual, lovesick desire. It flows through your veins with more naturality than even your blood. Nothing more righteous, more sure. 

You kiss like you’re telling him every secret you’ve ever kept—lips incapable of anything but honest confession. Holding onto each other in desperate, desperate necessity. A lifeline. A lifetime of holding it in, unraveling like the seconds couldn’t pass quickly enough to answer for it. 

It feels like the beginning of devouring. You’ve never felt so hungry for something in your life. It gnaws at your conscious thoughts. 

Desire simmers as you subconsciously settle your weight on Caleb’s lap, rocking your hips against the pleasant hardness meeting it. Not entirely sure of what it is your even touching. Caleb moans softly each time you do. 

“Fuck,” Caleb pulls away finally. You whine and he laughs at you. Kisses you again, just once. “Shh, baby.” 

“Nn, you don’t wanna kiss?” Your words come out slurred, even to your own ears. 

“Not that I don’t want to, but you’re—” His laugh comes out higher, breathier. “Doing a little more than kissing,” 

“Mm?”

He looks up at you. Amusement mixed with arousal. “You don’t even know what you’re doing, do you?” 

“Feels good,” 

“You’re this weak to a little pleasure,” Caleb says. His hands are hot as they squeeze your hips. “Can’t you feel what you’re sitting on?” 

The question sobers you. Caleb hold you steady to stop you before changing the pace. Uses his strength to hold your hips down as he grinds you over the full length of his…

“Oh,” You’re startled. You’re grinding against—

“You’ve been grinding against my dick like that without thinking about it at all. Isn’t that dangerous?” 

A shiver wracks through you. Caleb’s voice is husky, low when he says. It’s crass and to the point—something you could never imagine hearing him say. But now that you have heard it, it makes it feel like your whole body is melting. Sticky arousal climbs through your limbs, leaves your mind muddled as you moan. Shivering, you fall forward in his arms. He closes them around your back, grinding his hard-on against your clothed cunt. The way it catches on your clit so indirectly feels so good you could cum from it. 

His lips find your face, your jaw. His kisses affectionate. “Feels good, huh?” 

“Mmm,” You press your face to his neck. “Caleb,” 

“Do you want to cum like this? Or do you want me to make you feel even better?”

“Better?” 

“Yeah,” Caleb says, a promise. “Better. Promise. Do you want that?” 

You nod. “I want it,” 

“Gonna lay you on your back, okay?” 

You make an affirmative noise as Caleb flips you on your spine with ease. Surprised by his strength again, you gasp a little as he turns you over until he’s over you. He kisses you sweetly. 

Your head feels full. Too heavy on your shoulders. You want to put your tongue in his mouth again and you don’t feel all the way there. Caleb looms over you. 

“You’re beautiful,” Caleb says, breathless. Your eyes go wide. “Really fucking beautiful,”’

“That’s…” 

“I think it all the time. Want to say it to you all the time, but I never wanna scare you.” Caleb hums, a hand on your thigh. 

“Why would that scare me?” 

Caleb chuckles like it’s obvious. “You get skittish easily, you know? When I act less like your brother and more like…” 

You finish the sentence for him with a pout. “My boyfriend?” 

He hums like just hearing it feels good, eyes lidded. “Yeah. Like your boyfriend.” 

“Well that’s….” 

“Do I make you nervous?” 

His expression is playful. Makes your stomach flip. Your hand finds the hem of his shirt. 

“So what if you do?”

“It’d make me happy,” 

“You want me to be nervous? How mean,” 

He leans into your space. You kiss again and feel disappointed when it’s over. Were you always so desperate? 

“Don’t put words in my mouth. It just feels good to know you think of me that way, yeah?”

Something about it, about him like this makes your stomach tie in knots. You make a face, head tilted trying to tempt him into doing what you want. Caleb knows without you speaking a word, always does. Dips his head down to appease, lips firm and steady. Soft and full enough to make you melt. Your arms around his neck, a little breathless, mewling at the way it makes it feel like there’s electricity in your skin. 

“You really like kissing, huh,”  Caleb says. He pulls away again. Casts a brief glance your way before he peppers kisses all across your face. Draws his lips down your jawline, hot and wet as he noses against your skin. He finds your pulse and darts his tongue across the sensitive skin of your neck. 

You keen. It’s a sudden sound, sensitive. Your body shivers. Caleb makes an affirmative noise and does it again. Scrapes the same spot gently with teeth.

Another pitchy moan escapes your lips. Caleb breathes from his nose like laughter. Places more experimental bites and licks all along your neck. Your voice slips before you can catch it. 

“Harder,” 

He appeases you. Just like always. Feeling his teeth in your neck makes your mouth fall open and you moan his name like a small prayer.

His teeth leaves marks along your neck at your request, hands at your waist to hold you in place as you learn more about your body. You can feel your shorts dampen as he does it. It overwhelms you, makes you tremble with every light breath and every sordid bite. You don’t have any experience, have nothing tangible to compare it to except the things you did alone in your bedroom. 

It doesn’t compare at all, though. No amount of relieving your sexual urges as a desperate teenager or fumbling against a stranger in a club even kind of helps your mind make sense of it. Caleb kissing and biting down your neck, his hands touching your skin—it’s the first time in your life you’ve ever felt it. First time you’ve known touch like this. 

First time your mind has been rendered so useless to think. 

He rests his mouth as his hands slide up your sides. You gasp slightly as they go underneath your shirt  but you don’t make any move to stop it. Further and further they go until the reach for your back. Searching for something.

“You’re not wearing a bra,” He whispers.. 

“I don’t at home,” 

He lets out a breath like the winds have been knocked out of him. “Right,”

“Are you into that?” You ask before you can stop yourself, surprised by the sound of your own voice. Caleb just laughs like he’s in disbelief. 

“Take a guess,” 

“I just don’t get it,” 

Caleb doesn’t say anything to that. But his hands maneuver. Stopped just underneath the swell of your tits, his eyes look up at yours and ask for silent permission. His shoulders sag with relief when he receives it. 

The way your chest fits in Caleb’s hands makes your breath hitch. Squeezing the fat of them, relishing how they feel between his palms. He’s quick after that, pulling your shirt up until it’s gathered underneath your neck. There’s an impatience to it that surprises you, something uncharacteristically lacking composure as he halfway undresses you. 

His eyes linger like that for a long time. So long it makes your face burn. 

“Stop staring,” 

“...I don’t know if I can.” 

There’s something like awe in his gaze. Your spine tingles, goosebumps appearing on his skin. The way his hands hold onto your waist. He presses his cheek just below your sternum with an loving sigh, kissing it as he picks his head back up. It’s sweet to the point it almost nauseates you. It might if it were anyone other than Caleb. 

His thumbs draw over your nipples, hardened from arousal. Your chest rises and falls in anticipation, in ache. Thighs squeezing together in a silent admittance. His touch is experimental, careful in observing what elicits the most reaction out of you. 

Chest tender, takes one of your nipples into his mouth without warning. You gasp, hand covering your mouth as you feel him smile against your chest. 

The air shifts again. Hotter, heavier—there’s a sudden carnality to the way he’s touching you. Mouth latched onto your nipples tenderly, grazing them lightly with the blunt end of his incisors like he can guess everything you like. His mouth on your chest is overwhelming. It baffles you that something can feel that good. Each time you think you can’t be surprised any more, Caleb makes good on making you feel better and you’re forced to eat your words. 

Between your legs is throbbing hard. Whatever Caleb can’t fit in his mouth, he teases with the rough pads of his fingers - brushing and squeezing and twisting. Alternating as to make sure nothing goes neglected. Your hips cant against air, frustrated by lack of friction. Caleb is relentless, but does not make any move to sate your growing desires. 

“Caleb,” 

His eyes are washed over as he looks up. A look on his face you don’t know, have never seen until now. His voice is low in the back of his throat, strong hands cupping your chest and squeezing. 

“‘Mm?” 

A sibling bond like this, you think, is to blame for understanding so quickly what Caleb wants. Something you know innately, deep in your subconscious that makes your cheeks grow hot. A hot, prickly feeling goes down your back and all your clothes suddenly feel restrictive. He sits and remains steadfast, but you can sense it too. 

It feels good but something is missing. Something is off. 

Despite his restless desire, he’s taunting you. Goading you. You groan and Caleb laughs.

“Don’t—Caleb. Please,” 

“Did you want something?” 

Another groan leaves your lips as his smile remains unfaltering. 

“You promised you were gonna make it feel better,” You say, so petulant and childish to your own ears you wince. 

Somewhat predictably, this works on Caleb right away. Overwhelming lust tucked carefully behind a thoughtful smile. “I did, huh?” 

“Don’t be a jerk,” You reply. He laughs but not for long.

He has something flash on his face at your reply. You just kind of know. “Sorry, sorry,” 

“Stop holding back.”

He looks surprised. “I’m not—” 

You nudge him with your knee. “You are. You think I don’t know you? Didn’t you say you wanted me to see you differently? Stop acting like a cool older brother. It’s annoying,” 

His expression is one of awe and amusement. It’s not quite that he’s irritated, but you can sense that you just barely get under his skin with the implication. 

 “Weren’t you the one who was crying about not wanting anything to change? Now you’re chiding me? You were acting so spoiled just a minute ago to get your way and now you’re saying you don’t want me acting like your big brother, hm?” 

Your eyes widen at the change in character. It still feels like Caleb, but it’s so intense. Too sincere to be completely playful. A strange mix of lust, nerves and fear wash over you. “Just—” 

He pushes himself back up to hover over you, swift as a hand cups your jaw, forcing your gaze up. Pure arousal shoots through your veins, almost unwittingly, as you catch sight of Caleb’s gaze. An vengeful quality to it. 

“Meimei,” He says, and your breath hitches. Your head is clouded with the immoral lust of hearing it this way. “Your older brother didn’t teach you how to lie, right? If you want something, say it with your mouth. Say it clearly,” 

A flush crawls onto your face, eyes darting away. Caleb allows you this much mercy. To let you look away feels kind. 

It’s an uncomfortable sort of feeling. To acknowledge what desire, what reaction you’re seeking. It’s unfair, and childish - since Caleb has done nothing but love you from the very moment you met him. Kind, gentle, considerate—you love him so deeply that it hurts to breathe just thinking about all you’ve experienced. 

Something about what you’re asking of him is ugly. Born of selfishness, the desire to have all of him, too. 

“Ugh, just—stop saying you want me and show me,” You say, full of distress. 

You see it in his eyes when something clicks. 

And then, with a sudden force, he kisses you. It’s rougher than the ones previous, deeper, greedier. What you want. You moan into his mouth as Caleb licks at your lips, pulling away to kiss your cheek. Sweet as always. 

“Don’t regret it,” 

The change is immediate. In a way, he’s still just answering to your desires - but you don’t dislike this part of him. Your heart rate kicks up as Caleb strips you of your shirt completely before settling himself back down to where he started.

From just beneath your breasts, all the way down the place of your belly and navel - Caleb places hot, wet kisses to your skin. No longer languid but hurried, long fingers curling into the very edge of your waistband as he drops down further and further before settling between your thighs. He glances up at you when he begins to pull down your shorts but doesn’t ask you for permission and it makes you feel a strange thrill when he doesn’t. 

Caleb tugs your shorts off and helps you wriggle out of them in one go - an audible groan escaping his mouth. Plain, tattered cotton panties hug your hips as you lay with your legs up. He nudges your thighs open as you place your feet flat on the bed. With your legs spread, your clothed cunt is readily visible.

He lets out a soft breath. When you look down, your eyes meeting—there’s something almost animalistic to him. A completely and utterly ruined expression, blush dusting across his nose and cheekbones. 

“I want to make you feel as good as you can, okay?” Caleb says breathlessly. 

He brings his mouth to your inner thigh, closer to your knee and places a sweet kiss on the skin. Both of his hands are gripping hard onto your hips, as he breathes in the scent over and over. It sets your body alight to see it in glimpses. His brow is furrowed as he sucks and bites sloppy hickies into the soft fat of your thighs - working his way up slowly. When he finds you properly marked on one leg, he repeats it on the other. 

You can feel the ache of fresh bruises. A sensation that coaxes a completely new wave of arousal straight from the deepest depths of your body. An impossible wetness soaking the paper-thin cotton, sliding down the curve of your ass from how keyed up the touch makes you. 

It’s less that he’s satisfied in his markings with you, more that his desire for you grows too heavy. Caleb stares at your pussy with eyes of pure, unmistakable reverence.

You have never been able to picture another human being looking at you the way he does. 

So much ardor. So much bone-deep, blood-red voracity in a single gaze. The shakiness of his breathing, the harsh grip of his hands, that unsteady look in his eyes as his nose and mouth hover over the soaked panties over your pussy. As if you can see the words repeating in his mind: want, want, want. Nothing more certain. 

Your whole body wracks with a shiver. You whimper with your hands fisted at your sides in anticipation. 

A startled gasp escapes you as Caleb doesn’t do anything but press his nose firm to your pussy and breathe. Deep and unrepentant like he’s trying to memorize the scent of you, use it to track you like a bloodhound. Embarrassed warmth floods your system and you squirm in protest of his actions. 

But you’re trapped there. Completely and utterly, rendered helpless by his gri. His eyes flicker up unfocused but quickly go back to being closed. It’s all the communication you need to know he intends to do exactly as you’ve begged him to do. To expose the extent of his unsavory appetite. Inhaling the scent of sweat and skin, of a day of lounging and leaving your pussy completely confined.

He looks so madly-in-love in the moment you find it hard to breathe even a word of protest. Your clit throbs unhelpfully in response. 

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream when Caleb finally, finally drags his tongue over the seam of your panties. He doesn’t pull them off—instead sucking the wetness from the material. Puffy clit helplessly pulled into the force of it while trapped under your panties, you buck your hip up against his tongue. Caleb obliges you. He points the tip of his tongue and slides it over the small bud through the cotton - completely stiffened from arousal. You shake at the touch, the wet promise of pleasure. How the drenched fabric of your panties gives the most gratifying, mind-numbing friction. You moan loud. You can’t help the sound that leaves you when he licks your pussy. 

You’ve never felt anything like it before. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt this way, but you’re under the impression that most people will never know a pleasure like this in their life. 

When your underwear is completely saturated with spit - only then does Caleb let off from you. Without a single word of warning, he tugs away the material. Exposing your pussy, bare and throbbing - he blows warm air onto your clit and watches as you squirm. 

Another beat of admiring before his mouth latches onto your pussy again. Panties tugged away haphazardly, his tongue sliding from wet hole all through the seam, the soft folds of your pussy - settling at your clit. He licks experimentally, wading through your moans. When his tongue tastes your clit just the right way, you practically scream. 

With newfound dedication, he commits to worshipping your pussy with his mouth. 

It’s humiliating. Purely euphoric and undeniably stimulating, boneless as Caleb’s tongue laps desperately at your clit. His eyes shut, completely blissful - brows furrowed and moaning into you. He eats you out like it’s what he’s wanted to do his entire life and this is the last opportunity he’ll have to make good on his dreams. 

The corrupted thought lights fire under your body anew. To think of Caleb lusting for you when he shouldn’t be. Like a forbidden fruit, ripe and sweet and nearly his—nearly within his grasp but always just barely slipping between his fingers. Your kind, sweet, considerate older brother thinking of ruining your mind and body. The idea he’d been torturing himself over it makes you sad but more than that it incites impossible longing. You want him to want you even more than he does now. 

You can feel your body ache for it for the first time. Like a reply to his feelings, you think of how good it will feel when Caleb finally fucks you. Takes you, plucks you from vine  and claims you all for himself. 

But the act of him tasting you like this is more than good. The tender bundle of nerves is throbbing hard against the wet flick of his tongue - hips rutting to meet the perfect motion of his mouth. Something in your belly warms. Sweetens your senses and melts you from the inside like crystalized honey coming to liquid sugar over a flame. Your mind has melted away so utterly you can’t do anything but reach your fingers through his hair and chant his name. 

“Caleb,” Your voice is unfamiliar to you. Worked up beyond any rational understanding.. “Caleb, Caleb, Caleb.” 

Closer and closer, Caleb remains completely persistent in his efforts. Licks your clit and laps up all the arousal that spills - silky fluid like ambrosia to the unending heat of his mouth.

The knot tangled inside of your body unravels with an alarming speed. Makes your eyes go wide before you shut them again hard, your spine arching off the bed - every muscle in your body going unbearably tense as Caleb’s tongue toys with your clit. The filthy sound of licking making your ears ring. 

Your body goes taut. It feels like a calamity. A pure rapture, like God himself is bringing pleasure. The kind that can only be derived from being your maker. Caleb has that in common with him, you think. 

Your voice rings loud, hands fisted in his hair. You’re cumming hard, and fast, and there’s white behind your eye-lids. Smatterings of bright stars as you press them shut. 

You cum so hard you can’t breathe. For a brief moment you’re weightless before it all comes crashing down in one swift go. Caleb eats you out through it relentlessly and your voice breaks on the syllables of his name - asking for mercy and receiving none. It feels so good it terrifies you. Your body is trembling, cunt spasming around his tongue as Caleb continues his assault. 

You feel something wet rush out of you but Caleb is undeterred. He drinks it all down, every last drop until he’s satiated at least some of his endless, terrifying thirst. 

When he pulls away from your pussy, his mouth is soaked in saliva and your cum. He looked the most satisfied you’ve ever seen him in your life. You’ve never been so scared of someone while being so unbearably aroused in the same breath. 

“You taste so fucking good. Better than I dreamed in my entire life. Need to taste it again. I almost don’t want to do anything else.” He laughs breathlessly. “Almost.”

“Caleb,” You whimper. completely helpless as you try to catch your breath. “Fuck, ‘m still cumming,” 

“Gonna make you cum over and over and over.” Caleb says cheery. “Promise,” 

After cumming the first time, your body's sensitivity increases tenfold. Where you think it’ll cool off the glaring heat, melting you down to your core - all it does is turn it higher, make the feeling more tangible. Caleb’s offer to make you cum again excites you more than it scares you. You stare at him when he comes up for air.

“Kiss?” 

“Even after all that?” 

You nod sheepishly. 

“Jeez. How cute can someone be?” 

He comes up for a kiss, surprised when you lick into his mouth. You like tasting yourself on him, tongue dipping in for more. Caleb smiles at your enthusiasm, eyes lidded when he pulls away. 

“Open your mouth,” 

You give him a blank stare but do as he says. He puts a hand on your throat, tipping your head back before you feel something warm hit your tongue. Your eyes meet Caleb’s in surprise, instinctively swallowing the spit as it slides down your throat. Caleb meets you with an eager kiss, a gentle affection in his voice. “Good girl.” 

Something washes over you hearing the praise. A soft moan into his mouth that leaves Caleb with raised brows. “You like hearin’ you’re my good girl, huh?” 

Your face feels hot. “...Maybe,” 

“Still so bad at lying, pipsqueak. Some things never change,” 

The affection in his voice makes you forgive him. You know the tone, the sound—the lilting coo of your older brother's voice when he’s teasing you. It’s a way of speaking you could recognize in a heartbeat, the kind of voice that you’re anxious without. It shouldn’t soothe you in this context, shouldn’t make your pussy feel so achy when you know exactly how he’s addressing you. 

Caleb kisses down the length of your body again. Neck to navel until he settles down between your thighs. You can’t mask your surprise. Caleb looks up at you from between your legs. 

“What? You thought one time would be enough for me?” 

Truthfully, yes. You’re a little startled at the thought he’s going to do it again. Make you feel all of that again. An anticipatory shiver makes you squirm but Caleb holds you in place. He presses another kiss to your clit. “One time doesn’t even come close to being enough.” 

True to his word, Caleb starts the process all over again. 

The second time around, he doesn’t let himself up to breathe. You’re locked in place as his increased familiarity with your body has him driving you over the edge even faster. Firm grip on your thighs, face buried between your legs - he laps at your clit for what feels like an endless amount of time. The pleasant warmth of his mouth paired with the focused, precise licks on your sweet spot make your body wrack with an impossible pleasure. It’s gentle enough to not be completely overstimluating - but his endurance, his persistence in doing it makes your experience a new high. A trembling mess of limbs and quiet, desperate pleas. Too much, too fast - toes curled as he hoists your legs over his shoulders to give him full access. Clit pulsating, stiff under his tongue with his nose bumping occasionally. 

It feels so good you’re almost content to let him stay there. Let your mind wash away and succumb to the gluttony tying you to the bed. You cum twice again from the pressure - your body experiencing each one longer. Unable to withstand it, your hands clenched tight trying to level yourself with the feeling. A pleasure you’ve never experienced, the kind you doubt you’d be able to feel with someone else. 

Caleb has always been like this in that respect. Your older brother who set the standard for every other man you ever came across. You were always using him as the gold standard, comparing every man you’ve ever met to him. Especially ones who claimed to like you. What would your brother do, how would he act, how would he treat you. He’d never tell you if you were too much. Never call you spoiled even when you act it, embody it so why settle for less? Why want for something else? For someone else?

It’s not surprising that Caleb touches you with the same level of care he’s always given you. Even less surprising that your body longs for it so desperately. 

Caleb is your big brother after all. He takes care of you like this. No one else gets to have it. It makes you entitled, moody, and emotional just to think of him acting this way with someone who isn’t you. 

Yearning and deep affection well up inside of you as these things cross your mind. Whisper to your longing as a deep, endless need overwhelms your mind. Your third orgasm steals the breath out of your lungs. A shockwave of emotions washes over you, as you tug at his hair. You let out a throaty whine. 

“Caleb,” You whimper, pulling him off. “Caleb,” 

Attuned to your emotions, Caleb is quick to pull away when he hears the audible distress. He pulls away from you, worried. “Shhh, hey. It’s okay, I’m here. Did you want to stop?”

You shake your head rapidly. Caleb gives you a small smile. “Just being a crybaby, then?” 

The truth is, yes, just a little. You can’t voice this to Caleb so you instead give him some unknowable, unreadable look. He reads it almost instantly, shifting himself to hug you tight. Without any words at all, like he knows every single thought that passes through your mind. You wrap your arms around him and nudge your nose against his neck. He smells familiar. 

“This what you wanted?” 

You nod against him. Caleb’s heartbeat is steady in a way that brings you bone deep comfort. 

“Be more pampered with me. More selfish, more demanding, more spoiled. Gege will do anything for you, so don’t hesitate.” 

Hearing him refer to himself that  way makes your stomach flip. You nuzzle yourself deeper into him, aroused by the sound of his laughter - playful but smug. You speak against his chest, words muffled. 

“Want it inside right now,” 

His breath hitches immediately. “Yeah?” 

Another nod. You pull away to look him in the eyes when you ask. You know how to beg Caleb for something. You’ve been doing it your whole life, and right now is the most sincere you’ve ever been. Doe-eyed and full lips, all covetous and coy the word falls from your mouth with ease. 

“Please,” 

It has the exact impact on him you want it to have. Groaning, the outline of his cock twitching with a shameful lust, almost blanking out at the thought. He scrubs a hand over his face. 

“You’re gonna kill me,” 

“Please,” You repeat. Caleb kisses you as if to stop you from saying it again. 

“I have to stretch you out on my fingers. It’ll hurt otherwise,” You open your mouth but Caleb cuts you off. “Don’t say it’s fine.” 

“Caleb,” You whine and he laughs sympathetically. 

“Be a good girl,” He placates, and it works on you just as maddeningly as your begging does on him. “Hm? For me?” 

You melt. How embarrassing.”...Fine,” 

He coos at you lovingly and you make no effort to deflect. You can’t. Your usual fire and wit, your banter is dissipated. Brain thoroughly undone from so many orgasms and the deep, aching want in your cunt - so apparent it makes you want to sob. A desperation to be full that you didn’t fathom existing in such a bodily way, something you thought only existed in porn. 

Sensing how strung out you are, Caleb changes positions again. Instead of laying between your legs, he curls up besides you. He turns on his side, sliding an arm underneath and hugs your body close to him. Like he’s cradling you. Your legs slot together, one of yours between both of his - your other leg on the outside. Caleb hikes your thigh up - high enough to have your legs spread. The arm not supporting your back is supporting you, his forearm underneath your thigh.

At this angle, you’re face to face. Caleb can see you clearly as he cradles you in his arms. A large hand squeezes your ass before reaching around - teasing your clit with long fingers.

You feel…small like this. It’s the way you’re being held. The feeling of Caleb’s arm under your back, sliding up to hold your neck. 

His fingers are exceptionally long. Slender and thin, with thick veins from wrist to pinky, more appearing less visibly to the rest. His palms are big- making up the bulk of their size. You feel yourself fixating on them in their movements. 

On the calluses on them from handling guns, to the few thin scars from your childhood that have remained on his body into adulthood - now scarred. The way his fingers caress you, stroke your clit slowly. He kisses you again with a silent question like: you like this, right?

The eagerness of your tongue into his mouth answers it for him, a puppy keen on greeting it’s owner. Caleb laughs sweet into your mouth, encouraging you with all the kindness he has in him. His fingers slides through your slick folds impressed until he reaches low enough to be at your hole. 

You’ve put your own fingers in there before. You think you can handle someone elses. 

You find out fast that you can’t. 

Caleb’s fingers are long. They’re thicker than yours, and longer than yours - and just the first one gives you a stretch you're not expecting. You shudder, a noisy breath. It’s an intrusion, a noticeable one. Caleb is careful, though. It’s easy for him to push the digit it when you’re so wet inside. A soft squelching noise makes your skin burn hot but Caleb goes on undisturbed. 

His finger reaches deep. He fucks it in so slowly and so carefully but it feels like it never ends. All the down to the knuckle with just the one, you find yourself shuddering. Caleb is quiet, but you can hear the labor in his breaths. Feel his cock pressed against your inner thigh and twitch. 

You moan his name instinctually - not for any particular reason and he says nothing. Just thrusts his finger in and out. How can something feel so different on the basis it’s someone else? You can’t hold still, rocking your hips against the sensation. Caleb groans unabashed. 

“You want it so bad, huh?” He says, half-delirious and so pleasantly smug. You nod  immediately. 

“A little more. Hang in there, okay?” 

Okay, you think. You’d do whatever it takes in the moment for Caleb to fuck you more quickly so you bite in the side of your cheek and try not beg stupidly each time he repeats the process. Another finger, longer than the last - stretching out, reaching deeper than anything has ever gone in your life, thrusting until your pussy takes it. It surprises you to know just how much you can take when you take three and you really feel  it. How soft it is inside.

“Enough,” You whisper hoarsely. 

Caleb doesn’t heed your request. Another finger goes in. It takes four for him to finally feel like it’s enough. Four fingers stroking from the inside out, an almost brutal precision curling against your g-spot. Not enough to cum, just enough to get so wet he can’t pull his fingers out without the filthiest noise you’ve ever had to follow it.

Completely out of your mind, you grab onto him weakly. Every ounce of shame and sense gone. 

“Caleb,” Your voice is a pant. “Fuck me. Please, please—just do it,” 

His own voice is no better than yours. “Gotta grab a condom from my—” 

Your voice is vicious. Like you’re lashing out at him. “No. Fuck me.” 

Caleb is quieted by it. Unsure of how to react. “Don’t be like that, baby.” 

A reprimand. Soft as ever. Tears well up in your eyes immediately. “Please hurry,” 

“We have to use a condom next time, okay?” 

You hear nothing that comes out of his mouth except the words next time, and nod. 

He gives in. You’re thankful he always does. You’re at your wits end and you don’t know if your body can handle any more waiting. Not getting what you want with Caleb unsettles and upsets you. Especially this strung out. 

Caleb rolls onto your back again after he pulls his fingers out. You whine at the loss, unwittingly falling onto your back with both legs open. Presenting yourself in some impossibly obedient way that you can’t catch quick enough to stop, knees bent and up in the air. Waiting impatiently for Caleb to follow. 

He follows suit moments later. His hand resting on your knees to spread your legs for him, taking in an eyeful of you as he stands on his own. 

At the angle you’re laying and with nothing to distract your senses - you can see Caleb in full shape. Your body responds in kind for you, throbbing between your legs as you cut his figure. Tall and strong and broad, visible muscles and deltas. There are veins above the lowcut of his waistband, thick and tempting. A little lower than that - a patch of dark hair that leads to…

Your throat feels dry seeing Caleb’s cock standing to attention, just underneath his sweatpants. Eyes blinking rapidly trying to make sense of it. How it strains, a wet patch where it ends. Your breathing slows significantly. Your mouth watering, mind fizzling like a bottle of champagne. The ache in you urges deeper, hand going between your legs to soothe it. Or maybe welcome what's coming. 

Caleb is breathless. Amusement undercut by lasciviousness. “Enjoying the view?” 

You nod stupidly. Caleb grins a little. Makes a show of hooking his thumb into the top of his sweats and tugging all the way down. A thick trail of hair and the smooth, uncut outline of his cock has you gasping. When he tugs his pants all the way pas his thigh, you feel completely speechless. 

He’s huge. Utterly. Too heavy to stand on its own, uncut, veiny. You blink in disbelief, like everything in the room has paused. It’s burly. Ridiculous. Thick enough to look like someone’s forearm. Pearls of pre-cum dribble of out of the tip, pulled back to be revealed. A ruddy reddish brown and angry. It’s darker then the rest, throbbing in a way that looks almost painful. It’s not the first time you’ve seen it but that was on accident in a bath before it was—

You stop your train of thought and just stare for an unknown amount of time.

He looks sheepish. The tips of his ears crimson red, all the way down to his chest. You make an unintelligible noise at the sudden change in attitude and also at everything else. 

A sensible person would feel fear. Not your strong suit. You don’t know if it’s bravery or lust that inspires the reaction in your body. You just know you want him to fuck you so bad you might jump  on him to get it. 

“We don’t have to get in today, princess. We’ve got time to—” 

“If you try to deter me one more time I’m going to run away from home,” 

Caleb closes his mouth. He just mumbles something, but obliges you right after. 

In what can only be considered a miracle, Caleb finally settles between your legs. His hands are on top of your thighs as he taps his tip against your clit, rubbing the pre-cum into the mess, The feeling of skin on skin elicits a gasp out of you both. His voice is shaky. 

“Might not last,” He says hoarsely

“S’fine.” You put a hand between your legs and spread your pussy open for him a little wider. A move from porn that works on him instantly. He swears hard under his breath, not giving himself a chance to indulge in the feeling long. 

Tip nudging through slick folds—Caleb finally, finally slides in. 

Another synchronised moan, sweat breaks out onto your skin as you feel the thick tip of Caleb’s cock finally come through. You feel full. It’s completely different from four fingers, more invasive on your body than ever. . 

It elicits a chain reaction. You watch Caleb above you, death grip on your hips trying to keep his composure and not fuck a hole through you. A horrible part of you almost wants him too, even knowing you absolutely wouldn’t be able to take it. 

You’re trembling. It feels ridiculous but you’re so worked up that - 

“Gonna c-cum,” 

Caleb’s eyes blow wide. “From—fuck. That ain’t fair, you can’t,” 

You buck your hips up and groan. He’s stretching you out so fucking good. One more time and it’ll hit that spot and it’ll feel so perfect, so right. You need it. Caleb shakes over you. 

“Mercy,” He says, not sober enough to laugh. You’re going to lose your mind soon. Maybe you already have. 

“I-s it all in?” 

“Half,” Caleb grunts. You moan at the thought. 

“Fuck me. Shit, please,” Your voice breaks high on the last syllable. Caleb looks like he wants to protest, wants to tell you to take it slow. But you can see it in his face that he’s reached his limits. Or maybe he reached them a long time ago and he’s already far gone. 

But he listens. Your jaw goes slack and he pushes in. Inch by tortuous inch until you feel him bottom out. Feel his hips on the back of your thighs. His cock is throbbing inside of you, silken walls clinging onto the shape like you’re being pried open. It doesn’t take anything. He shifts as he bottoms out and your voice comes out in garbled, unintelligible noise. 

“O-oh, ‘m cumming, cumming, ngh,”  Your back arches up that leaves your mind blank. Completely white out, nothing but static as you cum again. Cum around the hard, intrusive length of your older brothers cock - bullying into your cervix until it’s wet and pliable and fuckable for him. Stretching out like it’s his to shape and mould. You can feel it in your body, each vein and each curve. Caleb lets out a whistle. Sharp and so fucking dark, it exicites you helplessly. 

“She’s clingy just like you,” He says, fond but sneering. 

Your head spins when it dawns on you on what he’s saying. 

“Caleb—” 

“I feel conflicted. Are you naturally this gifted?” He laughs, folding over you. Overtaken by something. Bending you under his weight. “Or is it because it’s mine that you’re making it so easy?” 

“I was worried, you know,” He pulls out. The disappointment and gaping emptiness are brief. You hear the way your body refuses him pulling out. “Worried about how such a tight hole would fit something so big. Worried about your body, but you’re taking me in so fucking well. So perfect,” 

You’re panting. It feels so good. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, limp under the weight of it as Caleb gives you a slow few thrusts to get you used to the size. But you’re so stretched and sensitive it just feels fucking incredible from the jump. 

“Be a good girl and let me in.” You clench down on him. He grins to himself. “That’s it,” 

He bottoms out again. Slams hips and fucks you in one swift, unforgiving motion. Groaning, he puts his hands up under your knees, driving his dick into you with animalistic need. 

“Your pussy feels so fucking good. Too good. I’m never gonna be able to think about anything else. It’s not like I was before but you’re-” Out, back in. You haven’t made a single coherent sound. “You’re just too good. It’s warm and wet and still so tight, how are you still so tight, huh? It’s like you don’t want me to leave.” 

For a brief moment, the two of you make eye contact. The vivid color of his eyes burns bright, pins you underneath the weight of his gaze. It goes straight to your stomach, making it flip in one smooth go. 

“Tell me it’s okay,”  Caleb says, barely restraining himself. 

You look up at him confused. He suddenly looks like he’s at his wits end. 

“Tell me it’s okay to fuck you hard,” 

Like a woman possessed, you reach your arms around to squeeze his back and biceps. You put your mouth close to his ear as you bring him down towards you. 

“Gege,” He twitches inside of you. “Fuck me as hard as you can,” 

You underestimate just what effect it’ll have on you. On him. As quick as he possibly can, he pushes his hands under your knees and folds you into a mating press so deep it makes you scream. He’s pistoning you instantly, pounding into your pussy like he owns. Your nails dig into the muscles of his shoulders without realizing. 

“I love you,” are the only words that come out of his mouth. It has you clenching down even harder. “Gege loves you more than anyone else in the world, okay? More than anyone.” 

Just like that, Caleb fucks you. Given up on being gentle but still trying to make you feel good, trying to touch somewhere no one ever will again - he folds you up under the weight of his body and fucks you with relentless stamina. Your mind is gone. His cock is fat and heavy inside of you, splits your pussy open as the tip knocks against your g-spot with each thrust. His balls smack against your ass on each go. 

It’s too much. For your brain, for your body, for your insides - getting permanently rearranged like he’s crushing your womb. A feeling like it should be painful, but it isn’t because he’s got you so good and open. This a reward for you both. For his patience. Every thought wrung from your head, impressed by your body’s own avarice for cock. Addicted to the feeling of getting strethed, gaped completely open. It feels like you’re cumming without a clear end. 

Wanting Caleb to cum inside of you is a distant thought. Pleasant like a lullaby as your body yearns for it. Another sharp orgasm builds. It builds and builds and builds - and you know’re going to be fucked through it again. 

But this time Caleb is close. Right alongside you. Sweating and panting in your ear as he pounds into your frenzied. 

His voice comes out like a whine and it turns you on even more. You say it before he can think of pulling out, tightening your legs around his waist. 

“Cum in me,” 

Caleb grinds himself deeper. “Gonna cum in you, baby. I love you, I love you—fuck!” 

Pure euphoria floods your entire nervous system as Caleb bottoms out one last time. His cum fills your pussy in thick, long spurts. It feels hot as it takes, makes you shiver with how it feels. Disappointed at the idea it’ll flood back out. 

Caleb, still balls deep - continues suddenly. Where you think he’s gonna pull out, he doesn’t. Instead he fucks you again, this time more clear-headed as he rubs your clit - a hand between your bodies. His voice is shot. 

“Sorry. Don’t wanna be selfish. One more nice and easy, then we’ll clean up?” 

You have no room to protest. After all, Caleb is nothing but relentless when  it comes to spoiling you. You let him fuck another orgasm out of you until you’ve got nothing left to give. 

He collapses on top of you after your pussy milks what's left of him

You kiss when he does, sweaty and tired. You look at his blissed out face and kiss his nose with affection. 

“I love you too, Gege.” 

He pauses then laughs. Brightly. Hopelessly. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” 

__ 

You aren’t sure when exactly you pass out. 

You remember lingering with Caleb in his bed before limping into the bathroom. And a bath too, if your memory serves you right. You must’ve fallen asleep in the tub with Caleb, the broad warmth of his chest lulling you right to sleep. You’ve got good endurance from being a hunter, but you’re tuckered out just thinking about earlier. 

Also a little embarrassed. 

You wake on the couch of the living room. Cleaned, changed, and tucked into with a blanket over you. There’s a scent and the quiet sizzle of a pan. Your limbs feel heavy as you pick your head up. It’s still dark out but it seems like morning. 

You rub your eyes as you swing your legs over and place them on the floor.

Standing to your feet, you find slippers at the end of the couch and feel your heart swell ten sizes. You put them on before padding into the kitchen. 

Caleb is at the stove like you thought he’d be. You flush seeing his back covered in scratches and a bite or two - none you remember leaving. You know your body is in the same state if not worse.

You walk up to him and wrap your arms around his middle, pressing your face against his broad back. Your voice is small, embarrassed. Everything feels brand-new. 

“G’morning,” 

Caleb turns the heat down and puts the spatula on the counter top, turning to face you. He looks down at you with a boyish grin. Unfairly handsome, making you pout. 

“Morning, sleepyhead. Feel okay?” 

You tuck your face into his chest and nod. “Just a little tired. I don’t hurt or anything.” 

“That’s good, then,” 

You make a little mm sound and stay there for a while. Caleb is content to hug you until you pull away. 

“Caleb?” 

“Hm?” 

Your face feels warm. “...Kiss?” 

He stops, then beams. Dips his head down to catch your lips in a kiss that feels romantic and practiced, but doesn’t make you feel strange in a bad way. You’ve never had a boyfriend, not a real one. Does everyone feel butterflies like this? 

Maybe there’s something wrong with you. He pulls away and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“You’re less moody than you usually are when you wake up,” Caleb teases. “Good to know. An effective way to deal with your attitude is always welcome.” 

You frown at him, feeling furious for more reason than embarrassment. It’s really unfair how flirtatious he is. “Shut up,” 

Subconsciously, your hands are fisted as you cling to Caleb’s chest. With no shirt to hold onto you, your muscle memory finds it the most steady. They’re clenched hard from embarrassment and a flood of other feelings you need soothed. 

Caleb grabs your hand and unfurls them for you. Strong, warm, big hands grasp yours in their palm and open them both softly - fingers interlocking until you’re no longer so tense. Just melted away. 

“I’m right here,” He says. A wave of emotions passes over you. 

You hold his hand and squeeze it. Once, twice - it has a steadiness the grip of fabric doesn’t. 

You smile to yourself. Helplessly happy. Overwhelmed with pure, unrelenting love. 

“Yeah,” You say, more to yourself than anyone else. “You are,” 

[kutepik]

So Fucking Domestic

(mdni 18+) How many times a week is it normal for a couple to do it? Well... You and Caleb are definitely above average.

1.2k. small hc about domestic life and boyfriend!caleb with a little bit of spicy hihi

Since you and Caleb started seeing each other officially, it was only natural that you spent more time in Skyhaven and he in Linkon. You both had such dense and strenuous routines that at any free moment you tried to be together and make the most of it. On a particular day during the first month of your relationship, you arrived at the Colonel's apartment and found some step stools placed at strategic spots in the apartment. They were large and discreet, one near the kitchen counter, another by the bathroom sink, another by the bookcase in the study and many others. The answer when you asked Caleb about it was simple: when he became a colonel and got the right to an apartment, the Fleet asked for his height to make the furniture as proportional and functional as possible for him. Now that you were spending more time there, he made sure to have those steps made at the right height for you, so that you could be as comfortable as possible. In fact, you always wondered why the sink seemed so high when you brushed your teeth, and how uncomfortable it was to cut things on the counter when you tried to cook something. Caleb was always so efficient and attentive, and you loved that about him.

A week after steps stools were added to the apartment, you were used to them. One day, while you were at the kitchen sink, peeling some apples for a quick snack, Caleb came in from a night mission.

"Hey! Want an apple?" You smiled when he hugged you from behind, sinking his face into the nape of your neck easily because of the extra height the step stool gave you.

"What a miracle to find you in the kitchen," he kissed your neck and held your hips, gluing you to him. You brought a piece of apple to his mouth over your shoulder and forced him to eat it, to shut him up. "Hmpf" He tried to speak and you turned around, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

"How was it today?" You gave him a small kiss on the cheek.

"Boring. I just wanted to come home to you." He rubbed his cheek against yours, sighing. "Buuuut, I had time to think of something"

"Hm?" You hummed with your eyes closed, feeling the warmth of his face against yours.

"I was wondering if... You'd let me put my cock inside you without me having to ask or with any ceremony." He said in a careful voice. "Of course, if you don't want to at the moment, just tell me and I'll completely stop. I totally understand if you find it weird and don't want to do this and I pinky promise we never have to talk about it again and I'll never bring it up ev-“

"I want it!” you said and threw your head to one side. His eyes widened in surprise. "Wherever you want. No matter when you want. I trust you." You kissed one of his eyes. "And I love the idea of you fucking me without ceremony and at any time."

"God, you're going to drive me absolutely crazy. Thank you." He squeezed you in a tight hug.

Once the two of you had agreed on this, you initially thought you'd be having sex the way you always did, hard, deep, kinky, full of fluids, scratches and bites, or doing intense quickies several times a day. But no, it was simple and intimate, simply delicious. Caleb just wanted to be with you and inside you all the time.

Little by little, you realized how the stool he had ordered served more than one purpose. Sometimes you'd be doing your makeup for work, standing in front of the bathroom sink, and Caleb would simply approach you, asking about your plans for the day. As the ordinary words and dialog went on between the two of you, he would gently pull up your shirt, pull down your panties and put his cock inside you. It was addictive. The fucking step stool not only gave you the perfect height for the furniture in the house, but also to leave your ass at the right height for Caleb to find himself in you without having to hold you down, sit or lie down. It was usually like this: his cock nestling into you with slow, intimate strokes, while you both carried on chatting about anything, just spending time together.

By then, you made a habit of walking around the house in your (his) large shirt and no panties, knowing that Caleb liked to be with you, inside you, whenever he could. Of course, you still had brutal sex like two animals frequently, but it seemed that Caleb's obsession and need for you - and you for him - was able to bring about the most painfully intimate, simple and tender sex of your lives. It was just so good to trust so deeply in someone and to want someone so badly that no words or timing were needed. At one moment it was a "Can I stay here with you, baby?" and the next you were reading your book, bent over the counter, while Caleb slid his cock up and down between your folds, stroking himself against your clit, praising you and your pretty pussy. He did it not only because he wanted it, but because he could.

Sometimes he wouldn't even come, or even move. If you were watching a movie, he would surely be inside you, both of you cuddled up, relaxing after an exhausting day, cockwarming.

In fact, you liked it so much that when he didn't take the initiative, you went after him. There were times when he was reading reports, sitting on the living room sofa or in the office armchair, and you would silently approach him, fiddling with your cell phone, sit on his thighs, and soon his cock was hard and hot under his pants. Within moments, you were slowly riding his throbbing cock, while he used his thumb to caress your clit, slowly, just like the rise and fall of your hips. If you got tired, you didn't have to get up. You just kept yourself there, hugging Caleb, with his hard cock throbbing inside you, filling you up completely.

One day, talking to Tara and Simone at the pub in Linkon, the topic came up: "How many times a week is it normal for a couple to have sex?", and the girls debated curiously.

"I don't know, three or two times a week? It depends on their schedule." Simone said, sipping her drink.

"Some couples do it every day! Can you imagine? Having sex every day?" Tara said, her eyes widening. " What about you and your boyfriend? How often do you do it?" She asked, curious.

And that made you wonder. There was the mind-blowing sex, the longing sex, the dirty sex, the rough sex, the slow sex, the sex when you were reading, the sex when he was reading, the sex when you were on your cell phones, the sex when talking about anything, the sex on the kitchen counter, the sex on the bathroom sink, the bath time sex, the movie time sex, the bed time sex, the sleep time sex, the wake up time sex, the boredom time sex, the play time sex… And all you could do was blink, trying to calculate how many times a week Caleb and you had sex and it simply wasn't possible to count.

You laughed, sipped your drink and sighed.

"I don't know, I don't count." And it wasn't a lie.

[kutepik]

Eyes on you

(nsfw 18+) Caleb has hidden cameras all over his house, and you've decided to put on a show for him.

2k words. posted also on ao3!

stalking, obsessive behavior, voyeurism, fem!reader.

PART 2 IS HERE!

Cameras. There were hidden cameras all over his house. There wasn't a bookcase or a mirror that didn’t have a little dot on it, almost imperceptible to the untrained eye. You only knew they were there by accident: when you took the elevator to Caleb's apartment, you bumped into an excited boy wearing a cap and uniform of a security company. 

"Are you Mr. Caleb's girlfriend? What a pleasure, I only saw you in pictures!" The boy waved, taking you by surprise. 

"No... I'm just a friend." You said a little confused, and the energetic boy explained himself.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I saw so many photos of Mr. Caleb with you the day I went to install those cameras that I thought you were dating. He also said he was installing the cameras to protect someone he liked." Cameras? What cameras? You thought, but before you could say anything, the elevator door opened and the boy jumped out. "Let me know if any of them stop working, I've installed so many I've almost lost count! Bye!" And so he disappeared down the hall.

Now you were in the living room, standing there in the middle, feeling the weight of your body and your movements, self-conscious about yourself and alert to the fact that you were being watched. Was he watching you? Now? Right now? That’s fucked up. Jail worthy. Caleb was obsessed with you and if your recent reunion hadn't already proved it, the dozen or hundreds of hidden cameras scattered around that room were proof that Caleb was sick. 

But we know the saying: When you point one finger, there are three fingers pointing back to you. More sickening than knowing that you were being watched, from every angle and probably in every room, was the fact that you were aroused. The spot between your legs throbbed, excited by the situation, by the fact that Caleb had probably seen you naked, had seen you sleeping, had seen you showering... It was so fucking wrong that, despite being against everything he had done in Skyhaven right after the reunion, you still delighted in remembering the possessiveness and obsession that melted at the words of your friend, oh, dear friend. 

In addition to the burning sensation between your legs, there was this tingle in your stomach at the thought of a man - not just any man, we're talking about Caleb - being so concerned, so devoted to you that he would kill and die for your happiness. In fact, a man who returned from the ashes and survived for you and you alone. He was no longer your sweet childhood friend... But that wasn't a bad thing. Now he became a man who had eyes (many, it seems, all over the house), only and exclusively for you. Caleb was crazy about you, and, oh shit, you loved it, which made you as crazy as he was. 

So you had two options: the first was to confront Caleb about why the fuck he had installed so many cameras in the apartment if the only person who spent time there apart from him was you; the second was to pretend you didn't know anything and carry on with your life as if everything was normal. 

You always chose the second option when it came to Caleb, ever since you were a teenager and in college. Whether it was sneaking around his room and finding your panties secretly hidden in the back of his closet, or listening to him masturbate while calling your name when he thought he was alone, you always pretended everything was normal. But ever since, and even more so now that you've found each other again, there was nothing normal about it, and no reason to carry on in the same way. After all, if he had changed, there was no reason for you to remain the same or pretend you didn't know anything. 

Then there was a third and new option: pretending not to know anything, but taking advantage of the situation to play with Caleb. Basically, make him taste his own medicine. If he wanted to see you, well, he would.

Pretending to be normal, you sat down on the sofa and took off your coat, throwing it on the coffee table. You took out your cell phone and called his number. 

"Is my favorite guest home yet?" Caleb answered in his usual animated voice. 

"Yeah. I'm bored. Still working? Is it break time?" You remembered that around this time he was most active on social media, so it should be the best time to put into action what you had in mind.

"Ah…You've always been very clever. Yes, I'm on break. I'll be home in two hours and we can do whatever you want. Don't get bored, you can turn on the TV or play a game on the console I have." Caleb was always like that, attentive to you, always wanting to please you. He wasn't much of a gamer, but because you liked games, he had bought a console with the excuse that he was getting interested in games. But now you weren't going to play with the console. You were going to play with something else. 

"Oh, no..." You put the phone on speaker and placed it on the arm of the sofa. You lifted your shirt and brought your fingers up to your bra, massaging your nipples. "I want to relax, not play." You said, holding your right breast while spreading your legs, slipping anxious fingers into your pants, brushing the fingertips against the wet panties. 

The call went silent. Bingo. He was indeed watching you, like the pervert he was. 

"Caleb?" You asked innocently, keeping your voice steady as you started moving your hand in circles, making it obvious what you were doing inside those tight pants. 

"A-ah, yes. Relax..." His breathing was heavy on the other end of the line, and suddenly you heard the sound of a zipper being opened. You had to stop yourself from moaning just then. He was starting to touch himself while watching you. "Why don't you, uh, take a shower in my bathroom?" His voice was a little choked. He was probably pumping himself slowly, staring at your live image through the screen in his office. Your pussy throbbed and suddenly your pants were too tight and too hot. You stopped stroking your own breasts and took both hands to the waistband of your trousers, sliding them down your legs. Then you took off your shirt, leaving only your panties and bra on. You positioned yourself again, this time with your legs spread wider and your heels resting on the table in front of the sofa. Your fingers returned to the soaked fabric of your panties, touching the sensitive clit through the wet cloth. 

"Yeah, I'll have a shower, I'm just finishing something up." With your middle finger, you moved your panties to one side to touch yourself directly. You bit your lip, holding back a moan, and squeezed your breast with your other hand. 

"Fuck..." he swore. 

"All right?" You replied innocently, holding back your unsteady voice as you carried on stimulating your clit at a steady pace. You wanted him to think you didn't know about the cameras, so you had to stay as normal as possible on the phone.

"Yup... I- I just hit my finger," he lied, slurring his words. 

"Caleb-" You said, catching your breath. "I miss you,"

"I miss you too." He sounded almost breathless. "I can come over now."

"No, you can't. There's work. Or is there something urgent you need to do here?" You quickly pulled down your panties, leaving them between your thighs. Then, out of the blue, you heard the unmistakable sound of a camera zooming in. He must have been eating you with his eyes, and now he wanted a closer look. You opened your folds, circling your fingers around the soaked entrance, like a pervert. You slowly moved the fingers up to your clit, stimulating yourself obscenely again. The other end of the line was completely silent, only a few low sounds and grunts were audible. "Caleb, is there something urgent you need to do here?" 

"Uh-" He stammered, and you raised your hips a little, grinding against your hand. "Fuck, fuck," he said. He didn't bother with sentences anymore. 

"What’s up with you? I'm feeling lonely and bored here. Can't you entertain me?" You teased innocently, but your legs were already shaking. 

"I can entertain you. Ah-" For a second, you heard the wet, rhythmic sound of his thrusts against his own hand. Oh my. Caleb had his pants down, sat somewhere in the FAA, and was touching himself like a teenager while he watched you. And you fucking loved it. "I can entertain you... I can be so, so good for you, if you let me." His voice was raspy and breathless. If you weren't so close to your orgasm, you might've asked him if everything was alright and put him in a tough spot again, but you couldn't even think about that. You were too caught up in your own pleasure. One hand was on your nipple under your bra, the other was all over your clit, and you arched your back on the sofa.

"I- I know you know how to entertain me. You're so good to me, always." You gasped, no longer caring that he was probably listening to the sound of your quick fingers against the wet flesh of your vagina. 

Suddenly, you heard a muffled cry on the other end of the line and several "Fuck, fuck, fuck" being whispered like a mantra at a low volume, as if he had his hand against his own mouth. He was coming. And that was all it took for the tingling at the base of your belly to explode and flow out of your pussy in an obscene and intense orgasm. 

You had just squirted all over the living room table and carpet, and had probably wet the sofa as well. The two of you were silent, only the audible gasp of your breaths as you caught your breath. 

"Caleb? Are you still there? It seems the connection was cut." You lied, still pretending you didn't know anything. He coughed and the sound of things being adjusted or stirred could be heard in the background. 

"Yeah, yeah… Probably disconnected or something." 

You got up and stood next to the sofa, looking at the mess you had left there. 

"Caleb I think I spilled...something on your sofa and carpet. Is there any cleaning cloth so I can clean it up?" You looked around. 

"NO!" Caleb almost shouted from the other side. "I mean, it's no problem, pipsqueak. You don't have to clean up. You must be tired from all this, right?" He cleared his throat. "From the trip, and everything. Just rest more, like I said, you can use my bathroom and take a shower if you want."

"Hm, where's that cleaning freak from before? Who are you and what have you done with my Caleb?" You heard a laugh on the other end of the line. 

"That's why. I'll take care of it. Please" The last word sounded as if he was begging. "I'll be home soon, and I'll be able to...entertain you, as you wish. We can, huh, relax together, too."

You laughed and picked up your cell phone, walking to the bathroom while dropping your bra in the hallway, knowing that he was watching here too. You picked up your wet panties and placed them on the bathroom door handle. In an instant, you could see a small dot hidden next to a painting, pointing directly at where you were standing. You stared directly at it, smiled and winked. 

"I'm waiting for you then, Caleb."

Part 2 is here

[zomgcaleb]

NSFW— minors do not interact

cw— creampie

thinking abt Caleb’s big dick </3

you want to blame it on him, say it’s his fault and swear that he does it on purpose. but you know he’s not. he can’t help it that he’s so deliciously hung.

somehow he manages to tuck it into his pants in just the right way that leaves you wondering, but behind closed doors when the day is said and done it’s like he sets it loose. he walks around in his boxers or a baggy pair of pj pants, ones that barely contain the sizable bulge that tents under his waistband.

he’s not trying to seduce you but it works all the same.

you almost feel bad when he catches you ogling him. those pretty purple puppy dog eyes gaze down at you with a sinful innocence that makes you huff.

it’s thick and heavy. so so heavy it makes you drool just thinking about the feeling of it in your hands. it stands tall and proud and so pathetically hard for you. it’s pretty. so pretty in the way it seems to challenge you when it twitches and bobs for your attention.

he knows it’s big but he doesn’t know it’s big. he’s just been hauling it around with him all this time not knowing how full it’d make you. how you cry and push your palm against his abs as he humps in and out of you.

“too much too much!” you’d slur into the sheets and he wouldn’t know what to do. is his dick not supposed to be this big?? is he hurting you?? is it normal to feel every twitch and clench of your pussy from all sides like he is right now?? because it’s making him lose his damn mind.

“are you okay? d-does it hurt?” his voice is light but rough as if it was ripped from his diaphragm. the fingers that hold your waist tighten and dip into your skin as he forces himself to slow down.

you pant absentmindedly in response. your core burns violently in the best way possible. Caleb hits every spot all at once and each thrust stretches you out so good. his cock head kisses your g spot so firmly yet so tender, sending you spiraling into a filthy mess. he’s not even going as hard as you told him to and you’re about to cum all over him anyway.

“pips.” he calls. the bed dips beside your head as he leans over you, pressing a loving kiss to your temple and nuzzling into your cheek with his nose. your cunt hasn’t stopped trying to suck him in and he whines and whimpers into your neck in feeble resistance.

“i’m here. just—Caleb, you’re so biggg.” you drawl. “you give it to me so good can’t take it.”

he pulls away to look at you and his lips part to speak but the sexiest moan rips from his throat to interrupt him as you rut your hips back into him. his girthy length slides and catches on all the right ridges and you cry in ecstasy.

the coil in his abdomen suddenly snaps and he’s pumping the fattest of loads right into your womb and you feel it in your throat, the addicting heat swirls in your stomach and the gift keeps giving. it starts to spurt and leak, leaving a milky ring around the base of him, some spilling out to stain the sheets. ‘i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry’ his lips brush the shell of your ear as he chants and his chest presses into your back to anchor you.

all you can hear is the deafening squelching of his seed getting fucked into you and his pitchy wails of your name.

no wonder he’s so big. he’s just so full of creamy white love for you can you feel it? you’ll take it all for him right? :(

[cyborbs-deactivated20221119]

in the mood to get cummed in over and over by someone insatiable who cant help but grab my hips and fill me up "just one more time" <3

[satanzb-tch-deactivated20230821]

saying, “make me”, in hopes that you’ll grip my throat and whisper in my ear all the ways you’ll punish me later

[corrupturges]

Thinking about gentle forced eye contact. A dom softly grabbing their subs chin but not moving their head and saying "I won't do anything until you look at me, I want to see your pretty eyes when you tell me what you want."

[ruined-brat]

bf with somno kink x always sleepy gf

[deleted64827482-deactivated2024]

Waking up next to her with morning wood, and without a word immediately getting on top of her, spreading her legs, and pushing your dick into her still cum filled pussy from last night.

[protectingherworld-deactivated2]

sleeping gf 🤝 caring bf waking her up with his cock rubbing against her clit

[graveyard-prncess-deactivated20]

Date idea: I get naked, you make me sit between your legs, and play with me while you force me to watch the most filthy porn you can find and corrupt me into liking it 🥺🖤

[corrupturges]

Aren't y'all afraid of soft doms?

How they can be all giggly and cute to you while you guys are eating cotton candy at the amusement park but then they can fuck you mercilessly in the night at going rounds and make you cry because of pleasure?

Don't ever underestimate them.