i still hate y’all bitches who say oc x canon shit is cringe like bitch you have ANY idea how flattered i would be if someone made an oc for my fantasy world? how utterly PSYCHED my ass would be they loved a character so much they fleshed out one themselves just 2 be with one of mine? fuck y’all haters
And whata fucking bout it? Who gives a fuck? Does it hurt you, does it break into your home and steal your meemaw’s ashes? Does it spit on your holy symbol? No? Then shut the fuck up
Okay but uhhh…using a blind fold on caleb and sylus?? tying their hands behind their back so they can’t touch you?? kissing them, touching them, teasing them until they’re moaning and whimpering, begging to fuck you??
yeah, I love them as daddy doms but there’s something so hot about big, strong men being reduced to nothing when they’re just so desperate and pathetic for you.
pairing: xia yi zhou / caleb x reader (love and deepspace)
synopsis: caleb comes to a few conclusions when you give him a blowjob for the first time.
cw: NSFW and explicit sexual content, mdni. established relationship. mentions of intercourse. oral sex (blowjob). mentions of reader receiving oral sex. hair pulling. imaginative violence (not to reader). petnames (pretty, pipsqueak). mention of oral sex (receiving). he slaps his dick on your face (not sorry). mention of spanking and watching porn. caleb-typical warnings.
wc: 1.7k (drabble....ish????)
author's note: i can't defend myself since 90% of this is word vomit. i'm working on another caleb piece right now, but i needed to get this out of my system. think of it as a precursor piece, like an hors d'oeuvres. also, please disregard any typos. (— - —)|||
The first time Caleb felt your lips on his was magical. The second, third, fourth, and succeeding times were all but surreal.
He had all but convinced himself that your mouth, pressed to his in a flurry of tender touches or desirous cravings, was something he conjured up in the blurry moments of his delusions. You always manage to kiss them away, though.
Later on, you admitted that he was your first kiss.
"When I visited you after you moved out," you said. Hands wrung, your gaze averted downward as you were perched on his lap one evening.
He knows what you're talking about. Remembers its vividness with a startling clarity that would have embarrassed him otherwise, if you didn't share the same sentiments.
By now, you've already kissed and made out in the intimacy of his place beyond finite counting. Had sex with him on whatever surface the two of you could get your hands on. You've long since spoiled him with your presence, both physical and mental. There's a key tucked away in his headspace with your name engraved into the metal. Magnetic and the signification of a special place for you in his heart.
He spoiled you, and now, you spoil him. Neither of you complain about this mutually beneficial arrangement. Why would you?
Though, he can't say he's exactly pleased at the current moment.
"That's it, mmm. You're being so sweet today."
He's watching you, as he always is. You're on your knees before him—you insisted, said it added to the atmosphere despite his crows of indignance at the possibility of them bruising—and your mouth impossibly full of his cock.
You're bare before him, towel discarded on the coffee table with your body damp and he's barely presentable in his uniform. Disheveled and pants undone, he wasn't sure if he was exactly living up to the honorable nature of the clothes he donned. He tried to undress, but you'd been pawing at him the second he walked through the doorstep in nothing but one of the towels he bought you, so his resistance was doomed from the start.
His arms spread on the top of the couch, he tilts his head back and sighs slowly. Hot breath escapes him in time with his Adam's apple bobbing, swallowing a heavy moan that threatens to break free. It takes him a few moments before he peers at your kneeling form once more.
One of his hands cups your cheek, the cool leather swiping over your cheekbone and pushing some of your hair back. Rapt attention on you, whispering soft words of, "that's how you do it" and "a biiit wider, pipsqueak— yeah, like that" with so much appreciation in his tone. Because that's what he feels toward you right now; so much appreciation in his heart belongs to you.
Your tongue was doing sinful licks along the underside of his cock's curve, the girth hefty in your two hands, and your eyes stayed closed in a quiet pleasure. It's expertly done, and the creation of human response as you wrap those pretty pink lips around the tip of him and suckle on it, strings of your saliva leaving sticky wefts along the shaft.
Alternating between peppering his length in kisses and taking a couple inches into your mouth, he's fighting for his fucking life trying to not bust a nut. He's sort of ashamed to have dreamt of this moment for years. You would never let him live it down.
As if the deities couldn't get enough of his suffering, his mind had made the fatal mistake of noting the visible difference of the size of him and your hands and your mouth. It gets him going, that stark contrast and how gently you were treating him.
It's a sight reserved for his eyes alone. Something he wants to pocket and immortalize because it's his and only his. That's the only reason for the powerful plethora of emotions boiling over in his gut. Truly, the only reason.
That's what he tells himself as he observes you with a progressively darkening, clinical, dead-eyed stare that you weren't aware of. A little voice in him nagging at his conscience, spitting words of venom that feeds into the slowly, slowly expanding green-eyed monster rising onto its feet.
"I got a question for you, pretty," he says calmly, deceptively so. Making sure to sound as casual as possible, his gloved hand coming to stroke over your damp, silky hair. You really just couldn't wait to please him, immediately pawing at him when he arrived home and you were fresh out the bath.
You murmur something in reply, lips suctioned to his shaft. Those gorgeous eyes, ones that beheld him with such reverence and adoration in round shape flicker up to his. The vibrations and sight hit him like a freight train and he groans, low and deep. He lets the pleasure settle into his bones.
"You have to answer honestly, 'kay?" He croons down at you, assuring. His facial expression had finally relaxed from its initial, contemplative one. You're happy with this, he notes as you eagerly bob your head, careful to remain quiet.
Good. It'll make hearing your voice all the more worth it. When you said he was your first kiss, he was beyond ecstatic.
Hopefully, you can echo the same thing now.
With an easygoing air betraying that of his positively threatening smile, he asks, "Where'd you learn how to do this?"
There's a sick sense of pleasure in watching you process his words a second too lats. Because you're such an open book with him, aren't you? The way your eyes widen and your lips halt, as if your heart stopped even beating. Even if makes his own blackened heart speed up, its thudding resembling a rabbit's stomping.
Your blinks were a linguistic of their own, and he was the expert in unraveling the lexicology of your existence.
You don't answer fast enough. Or, you don't answer at all. Because now, you're staring him like a child chastised for having their hand in a candy jar—where they weren't supposed to be.
Unfortunately for you, that was more than telling for him.
Caleb doesn't speak. The air is several degrees colder now, like the air circulation was suddenlt cut off, and he drinks in the way anticipation tenses your muscles and your uneven breaths smooth over his skin when you pop your lips off his cock. Those sinful lips that he stole away as his were now glistening in a mix of your spittle and his pre-cum.
He could almost forgive you right now. But, you make the crucial mistake of looking away from him.
"Oh?" It's inquisitive—his tone, yet it has the power of a knife being drawn.
The hand on your head loses its comforting, encouraging air and instead becomes a weight.
A threat.
The visual that's formulating in his head isn't a pleasant one. An image of stained glass shards, blurry yet clear in the vision of you on your knees for another guy. The scattered light capturing your mouth wrapped around the faceless stranger, servicing him the same way you're handling Caleb, seeking that same, sickly sweet tang of validation.
Could it have been that Xavier guy he sees on your phone notifications from time to time? Or is it someone closer to you, from your Association? There's a chance someone else from your childhood reached out to you, maybe after his disappearance. Did they hold you in ways he's been craving to hold you for years?
That's not fair, now, is it? He's worn your hairtie around his wrist for years, disregarded countless scribbled love letters from bystanders, based his little trinkets around those apples you love so much, and spoiled you countless times in his misplaced desire for playing the role of your protector. It simply isn't fair that you sought gratification from a source that wasn't him—because for him, it was always you.
Is it too selfish of him to want your everything?
You don't say anything even as your mouth opens and closes. You're either searching for an excuse, weighing the costs of lying to him at the moment, or you're genuinely floundering for words at the sudden blankness in your head.
He hums again, and it's lower than before. Full of thought and contemplation as his amethyst eyes bore holes into your speechless state. It's full of disappointment and he sees the worry creep into your eyes like a leaking faucet.
Threading his gloved fingers into the tresses of your hair, its smooth leather massaging your scalp, his face softens.
"I guess I did say you should be honest, not fast," he murmurs, laughing to himself quietly.
His lips tilt into a boyish sort of grin, and it's so full of mirth and entertainment that it's easy to process as him diffusing the situation. It works like so, and you're soon tilting your head into his palm and seeking his touch.
In the distance, the kettle in the kitchen screeches like an alarm of what's to come.
Disconcertingly relaxed, his smile seems absolutely sarcastic. A bit sharp at the edges.
"I should make it easier to understand. Let me rephrase it, then."
He pulls your hair. It's one harsh motion and it jerks your head up. A gasp torn from your lips as they fall open, the slight sting shooting through your body with an charged breeze.
"Who did you learn this from?"
He's so used to tasting you before fucking; your sex and his tongue are practically best friends in his eyes. It never once occurred to him to have you suck him off.
He should've been suspicious the second you offered to begin with.
The blood drains from your face some more and he relishes the blank yet alert state your eyes reflect. He's sure your mind is in disarray right now. The feeling is mutual, though you're aware of that too, most likely.
"I have a right to know. I always said that you could come to me if you needed help with anything, right?" It's a rhetorical question. You both know that. You're doomed either way.
You make another breathless noise, and he wants to explore your vocality. Now, how would you sound gagging on him?
"Caleb—"
He shushes you softly and you quiet down in an instant.
"I don't need an answer that isn't related to my question, don't you agree?"
Another rhetorical question as he cocks his head, the gesture mocking.
"You're always tellin' me to be honest and share my thoughts with you. I'm bein' honest now. Everything should be mutual, so, answer my question. I might even go easy on you."
You're totally panicking now, aren't you?
His other hand wraps around the base of his cock and he slaps the shaft onto your cheek, then smearing his leaking tip over your glistening lips, a thoughtful smile playing on his own as if he were offering you candy.
"And depending on how you answer, I'm either taking you over my knee while you spell their name out, or you'll be showing me exactly what pornos you've been watching without my knowledge. So, what's it gonna be?"
i don’t see how ppl use ai to make selfship art because nothing beats the awkwardness and embarrassment when describing to a real artist how you want them to draw you and your fave kissing
You have to learn how to say no without you feeling like you’re being mean. Setting boundaries is how you see who does and doesn’t respect you, your time, or your emotional well-being. Anyone who sees your boundaries and thinks your being mean or tries to push that boundaries is not a person you owe your time or attention.
when you palm a man’s clothed bulge and he spreads his legs wider for you giving access to his balls too and pushes his hips up against your hand and lets out that throaty little groan ………
