This is just a fun blog I turn to when bored and don’t really expect this to blow up or anything. Just a place for me to throw up ideas and vent through another form of expression.
I’m still student but try as much as I can to be activity but I suffer from mental issues as well that fuck with my motivation.
I enjoy writing and drawing the most and tend to gravitate towards writing the most, I’m hoping to build my skills here hopefully.
𝓐𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓴𝓼
I am a SFW/NSFW blog, most I’ll do is give a vague description of sexual actives. Unless stated otherwise
why not make reader not black? no offence at all but the point of x reader is so that everyone could feel included not excluded. some of us are asian, mexican, or arab. not everyone on tumblr is black, please be mindful of that!! i love ur stories but it doesn’t feel like x reader to those who don’t share those traits! ;((
im going to say this with all due respect: i don't care if you don't feel included with my black readers. black women are constantly overlooked in fandoms. the majority of x reader fanfics are written with white readers in mind, which is why we read "you blushed" or "he ran his hand through your hair" in them.
black readers are not a majority at all. there are plenty of fanfics for non-black people, so i don't understand why you're coming to my inbox crying.
you sound like you're forced to read my work. if that bothers you, you can make your own fanfics with asian/latina/arab readers or read someone else's work. im not going to censor myself for a stranger.
we can do whatever we want with readers! plus-size, black, shy, baddie... just because one person doesn't like it, i'm not going to stop. if i hadn't specified that it was a black reader, i would have understood that it bothered you, but it's stated at the beginning of the fanfic.
black women deserve their safe place too. we wouldn't have needed to create black readers if white people didn't think they were the center of the universe and forgot everyone else when they wrote.
not everyone is black, so not everybody needs to read my fics. so no, i will not "be mindful" of that, like you said. stop forcing writers to suit your tastes and look for writers who suit you, thank you.
LADS subreddit Mods never miss when it comes to dismissing and invalidating valid talks about the microaggressive racism in their community, huh?
My post opened up a lot of pathways for people to talk about their experiences in this fandom, but oh, because this conversation makes people with the privilege to not have to worry about things like this in the fandom "uncomfortable", they decided it was a "sensitive topic" and removed it. They never cease to just amaze me.
This is the post that also started my Discord safe space for Black and Brown LADS fans, too. What a shame. Oh well, it's still posted in the non-censored LADS sub.
That being said, Shameless plug, but our Discord server is still open for Black and Brown LaDS fans, but no minors are permitted for now because we do talk NSFW in there. If you would like to join, drop a comment and make sure your DMs are open because I will send the link!
maybeee bringing back the king of curses into the modern era and keeping him restricted by a binding vow was not a good idea. but really, when does jujutsu society ever make a good decision?
and, maybe, making 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 a teacher and electing you as his guide was a bad move all around. for various reasons.
well, for one. he was rude. secondly, painfully old fashioned so now you're teaching him about cellphones. and lastly?
uh, he wants to eat you.
no, not in the sexy way. not in the 'spread your legs and lemme feast' way. ryomen sukuna actually, wholly, truly. . . wants to sink his teeth into your flesh, and consume you.
“just a bite.” he offers and nudges his chair closer in the teacher's break room. you bite you sandwich and shift further.
“no.” you're muffled, but firm, cutting him a glare over a tomato.
at first this unnerved you. when you were introduced to him and the first thing this bastard did was lick his teeth and grunt that you must taste like the finest of wine. you assumed innuendo.
you were proven wrong when the fucker lunged at you and had to be yanked back by gojo.
now? you're far too used to it.
“this is injust.” he motions to your sandwich, like your combination of lettuce, bacon and tomato was a federal crime. “you are allowed to eat your pathetic, favourite foods. why not me?”
you shoot his another look and nudge the bowl of miso over to him. “you said miso was your favourite.”
“I lied. I want you.”
“I don't know what cannibalistic charm you think you have but it's actually fucking creepy.”
love and deepspace is so funny in a ton of ways, not the least of which being that it’s an angst game full of angst with a huge helping of angst on top masquerading as a romance game
and this angst romance game has wacky characters like:
🐠 merman sea god who is an artist with flame powers for some reason. his symbol is not a fish but a duck. there is a section of the story where he goes into heat. canonical billionaire. also a serial revenge killer.
❄️ accomplished heart surgeon with ice powers who is trapped in a cycle of multiverse-spanning reincarnations. mc’s childhood friend and also her doctor. blatantly the horniest of the lot but you wouldn’t know it because he has never shown anyone an emotion ever.
💫 centuries old immortal space prince. literally an alien. got stuck in the past after attempting wormhole travel and has been bopping around earth until mc is born. mc’s monster-fighting coworker and upstairs neighbor. secretly batman.
🐦⬛ dangerous crime boss. also an alien, probably. also a dragon whose soul is bound to mc’s. once made mc shoot him in the heart to prove his immortality. wife guy in a “he supports women’s wrongs” way.
🍎 cyborg military commander with gravity powers. flies space planes. was killed in an explosion but got better. a narrative representation of the biblical eve. diagnosed mentally/emotionally unwell. wife guy in a “he is the wife” way.
and. like. originally i was going to say only a sentence about each of them but i could not pick just one of the many, many unhinged things about the tiny men who live in my phone.
absolutely batshit insane game. hilarious.
i have cried probably a dozen times while playing it.
𝓢UM : lads men as dads ! featuring — xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus & caleb ( seperate )
» 𝓒W : fluff, parenthood, domestic life, a bit of crack and chaos
» 𝓐/N : this is my personal interpretation of the men being dads and how I imagine them with their kids
XAVIER !
Your little son is the perfect mix of both of you, with Xavier’s soft blue eyes and your smile. He’s about five now, absolutely obsessed with his dad, following him around the house while Xavier’s on his day off.
“Papa… papa… can we play hunter and wanderer again?”
Xavier, exhausted but devoted, nods and lets his son climb onto his back, pretending to be a fierce wanderer while your boy smacks him lightly with a foam sword, giggling uncontrollably. Thirty minutes in, silence fills the room. You finish folding the laundry and walk into the living room to check on them.
Your eyes soften instantly.
Xavier’s sprawled out on the carpet, his head resting on a cushion, mouth slightly parted in peaceful sleep. Curled up against his chest is your little son, tiny fingers clutching his dad’s shirt, equally knocked out.
You stand there, heart swelling, as you watch them breathe in sync, your husband’s strong arm protectively around your son even in sleep. Your hands automatically go to your swollen belly, rubbing gently.
“Looks like your brother tired papa out again, huh little one?” you whisper to your baby bump with a fond smile.
ZAYNE !
The house is filled with childish giggles as your twin toddlers play around their father. Your son, a ball of endless energy with your eyes and Zayne’s gentle features, clings to him like a koala, refusing to let go.
“Papa! Up! UP!”
Zayne chuckles softly, lifting him with one arm effortlessly as your daughter sits quietly on his lap, watching her brother’s chaos with amused eyes. She has Zayne’s hair and your lips, the sweetest little princess. She’s holding her father’s big hand in her tiny ones, tracing his long fingers with her own chubby ones.
Zayne looks down at her with a smile so pure and radiant it makes your eyes sting with tears.
“My sweet girl… does papa’s hand look big?”
She nods silently, still tracing, and Zayne leans down to press a soft kiss on her hair. Your son is now hanging onto his father’s shoulders upside down, giggling hysterically as Zayne secures him gently with his other arm, balancing them both effortlessly.
“Careful, sweet boy… papa doesn’t want you to fall…”
You watch from the kitchen doorway, overwhelmed with how peaceful and warm the sight is – your healer husband surrounded by his children, glowing with happiness in the late afternoon sun.
RAFAYEL !
Your son is the literal carbon copy of his father. Same pink eyes, same purple hair, same pouty lips. You’re sitting on the couch scrolling your phone when Rafayel walks in, dressed in his casual loose black tee and sweats, sketchbook in hand.
“Come to papa, my little muse~” he coos dramatically, arms spread wide to his son sitting beside you.
Your son glares at him with narrowed pink eyes, puffing his chubby cheeks out angrily as he clings to your arm.
“Mama!!” he whines, turning away from his father’s outstretched hands.
Rafayel sighs, offended, flipping his hair back (or at least trying to with his short hair). He sits beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder to look at his glaring son.
“You wound me, darling boy. Why do you hate papa so much today?”
Your son kicks his little feet towards Rafayel’s face with a furious squeak, smacking his pudgy hands onto your chest as if claiming you as his territory.
“Mama only!! Go ‘way!!”
You stifle your laughter as Rafayel sighs dramatically again, placing a kiss on your temple before poking your son’s cheek lightly.
“You are truly your father’s son… but remember, I made you.”
Your son’s cheeks puff even bigger as he growls at his father, making you giggle uncontrollably.
SYLUS !
Sylus sits in his office chair, typing away on his laptop as a petite little girl perches elegantly in his lap, nibbling on tiny fruit pieces he’s feeding her absentmindedly. Her hair is sleek and brushed, tied with an expensive black velvet bow, and she wears a designer baby dress tailored by the best underground seamstress.
“Daddy…” she says softly, staring up at him with your big eyes.
“Hm?”
“Can you braid my hair like the princess today?”
He hums thoughtfully, placing his laptop aside despite the glowing red urgent messages popping up. He picks up a silver comb from his desk drawer (yes, he keeps one for her) and begins braiding her hair with precise, practiced fingers. At the end, he clips a rare sapphire butterfly clip into her braid.
“Perfect,” he murmurs, brushing her cheek softly.
She beams up at him proudly, already knowing she’s a princess. Sylus then picks up his laptop again with one hand while his other arm wraps protectively around her.
A subordinate bursts into the room, panting.
“Boss! We have an urgent—”
Sylus silences him with a single glare before feeding his daughter another grape.
“Leave. Can’t you see I’m busy with my little queen?”
The subordinate bows shakily and flees as your daughter giggles softly, leaning back into her father’s chest. She already knows her place as heir to his underground empire, glowing with the same commanding aura as her daddy.
CALEB !
Your living room is chaos. There’s toys everywhere, pillows on the floor, and your three sons are wrestling with each other, squealing and laughing while Caleb sits on the floor with his massive arms folded, supervising like a giant guard dog.
“Boys! Gentle!” he rumbles softly, but they ignore him, tackling each other with giggles.
Your daughter sits in his lap, her tiny hands playing with the string of his sweatpants, completely unbothered by her brothers’ chaos. She looks exactly like you, with your soft smile and pretty eyes, wearing a fluffy pink onesie with “DADDY’S PRINCESS” written on the back.
Caleb looks down at her, his entire face softening as he strokes her little cheek with his thumb.
“Finally… my mini pipsqueak,” he whispers, tearing up dramatically as he kisses the top of her head.
Flashback to when she was born: Caleb fell to his knees next to your hospital bed, clutching your hand as he sobbed into it.
“Thank you… THANK YOU!! No more mini me, pipsqueak!!! I finally have a mini you!!!”
Your daughter’s brothers adore her, always protecting and playing with her gently. Caleb ruffles their hair roughly but with so much love, chuckling deeply.
“Listen up, boys. You protect your sister with your life, alright? No punk’s ever getting close to her without facing you three and your old man.”
They nod seriously before going back to wrestling. Your daughter coos softly, pulling his hoodie strings to her mouth. Caleb melts into a puddle instantly.
“She can do anything she wants,” he whispers under his breath, smitten beyond repair.
In honor of bhm, I'm gonna try to do smth stupid and silly
How the LIs would react to u cutting off ur locs😭💔
Js smth really short and stupid
Xavier
- He truly wouldn't gaf. He'd be a little confused bc u stayed preaching abt how u would never give into societal pressure and chop ur locs off, yet... here we r
- "Did societal pressure get to u?" "The impulse of change and becoming a new person did😍😍😍" okay buddy js say u didn't want locs anymore💀💀💀
- He's truly confused on why u cut them, bc he's walked in on u more than one time cradling a loc, shushing it like a baby
- "Uh-" "GET OUT👹👹👹" and the door is slammed shut
Sylus
- He wouldn't really care, but the twins would be all over u
- "Ur bald." "Very bald." "??? I still have hair, it's js really short???"
- When ur hair grows back, this fucking sap would help u style it bc ofc he did the fucking research on ts. He'd even give u the money to get ur hair braided when u didn't feel like doing it urself, eventually learning different styles himself so u won't have to go through all that trouble
- "Passion Twists r truly calling my name, but I'm not doing allat😒💔" "I could do it for u." "I'm fine w/ u styling my hair and practicing on it, but that's not the same as braiding/twisting my hair Sy." "Who said I haven't been practicing different braiding styles?" Cut to u crying ur eyes out bc never in ur life has anyone ever put in this much effort for u
Caleb
- He would pretend not to recognize u💀💀💀
- "Hey Caleb!" "Who r u?" "Dpwm, I'll fish my locs out the trash and whoop u w/ them" "???"
- He won't stfu abt the past
- "I remember when u first got them all those years ago. Ur smile was as radiant as the sun." "I'm starting to think u had more of an attachment to them than me😕"
Rafayel
- He would scream in agony, cradling ur bald head
- "MY BABIES WHY WOULD U DO THIS😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭" "???"
- His dramatic ass would give u the silent treatment for a week before appearing w/ 10 different hair growth serums, and some hair products for "healthy black hair"
- "I did extensive research on this. I want baby locs in ur hair by next week." "I don't want locs again" "Do u hate me?" "???"
Zayne
- This freak bruh
- "U really took new year, new me srsly." "Zayne... it's July...." "😕"
- He'd be unphased by it, really. Although, once ur hair fully grew out and u complained abt styling it, he'd make snarky comments
- "Ugh! Why isn't it coming out the way I want it to???" "Wouldn't be having this issue if u kept ur locs😗😗😗" "I'll show u an issue when I shove my fist up ur ass"
God, bring me my own Sylus cause I'm so sick of doing my own hair😭🙏🏾 Happy Black History Month to my fellow black lads players. Js smth really short and stupid I was thinking of. I might do one w/ matching bonnets, I'll have to think on it though. Have a great day evb😛😛😛
This maybe potentially controversial, but I’m choosing not to take part in the Lnd boycott. My reason behind this is as a poc fan of the game with criticisms towards the very same game, whenever someone like me speaks out on this various issues regarding the fandom (the racism and colourism) and the company itself, we get ignored, blown over, pushed aside, told that it’s not that serious, and told that we’re lucky that we even get to PLAY the game.
Lnd is a game that’s accessible to EVERYONE. The very least they could is people of colour to be able to self-insert and immerse themselves fully. And Infold hasn’t even done that fully. It’s not right that you lot tell us that we should consider ourselves “lucky.”
Not only that, but I’ve also noticed the obvious difference in engagement between black/brown content and white content. For a fandom that claims to be lovely and peaceful you can tell there’s distain. We get a fraction of the engagement that white fans get and that much is obvious. With that being said you want us to support you with this boycott? Nope, count me out.
We’ve been pleading to have our, frankly , more serious issues acknowledged for aeons only to receive crumbs and you expect us to bend over backwards and help out? No.
Is the fact that it’s increasingly harder to be f2p? Sure. Is Sylus being tried unfairly? Potentially yes. Is the fact that there’s no option for curly coily hairstyles for poc to use horrible? Obviously. Does it suck that there’s only one body type? Also yes. Is it weird that there’s no diversity amongst the npcs in Lnd’s world? Definitely.
I’ll only consider it fair when ALL issues and acknowledged and acted upon. Not just some, just because it doesn’t affect YOU personally.
Edit- I’d also like to add that the guys who also play the game had a right to want a male MC. Again, they should be able to express themselves and their frustrations, without being told to “stop complaining” or to “not play the game.” The same issue occurs when some problems are acknowledged because it is convenient for a prominent group in the fandom and not everyone else when it should be everyone.
Edit 2 - I've also had another thought. I think the reason why people have been saying Westerners are entitled is because it comes from a mindset of having everything catered to them from baseline. Do you have white skin and straight hair? Well, you can find that in customisations in every game. You've never had to reach out or felt uncomfortable about being unable to express yourself in customisable games. However, if someone with coily hair comes along and asks for options to include them as well, it's now viewed as an entitlement. That we're suddenly demanding too much. I don't think asking a company that makes an obscene amount of money off of their audience and who's catering to the same audience, for additional hairstyles and body sizes. I think it's because those who are in the default category (except for a few) simply can't fathom not being included in things. They literally can't or refuse to even attempt to see things from another's perspective and likely don't care for those who are constantly excluded. Which is why they create excuses for these companies.
Rafayel: HE'S BLUSHING LIKE MAD! Won't stop calling you his perfect muse! Expect a swarm of kisses. Goes out of his way to learn more about other black hair styles because he appreciates the art form. He's already begging you to model for his next painting. When he imagines you in Lemurian jewelry, he nearly passes out from glee.
Zayne: Has pain meds READY because he pays attention to how bad your headaches get after fresh braids. Kisses your temples to ease the pain. And of course, he says you look amazing. This man is here to serve, so after your long hair appointment, you can expect a massage at home. Later, he gives you hair beads he'd created with his snow evol to attach to your braids.
Sylus: Always pays for your hair appointments, as well as any and all supplies you may need. Picks you up in his car, grinning like a fox. "Well, aren't you sweet as sin, Kitten~" Immediately wants you at his side and gets very handsy. Takes you shopping to get a new outfit to match your new hair. He's parading you around the N109 Zone so everyone knows you're taken.
Xavier: VERY EXCITED! You told him you were getting a new hairstyle, and he already knows his heart won't survive. He's mesmerized when he finally sees you. Can hardly speak at first. All he wants is to hold you and kiss you because he can't believe he has such a beautiful partner. He's staring so much that he walks into things (furniture, people, claw machines, poles, wanderers, etc.) He's head over heels!
Caleb: Brings you food during the appointment! You didn't tell him where the salon was, but he found it somehow and delivered you comfort items! After recovering from the fact that someone got to touch your hair for hours and I wasn't him, he gets FLIRTATIOUS. He wants to take a MILLION pictures of you to frame and put in his office. And in his home. And in his private aircraft. And in his- Well, let's just say, he's obsessed with you.
an: this is entirely self indulgent, and very quick so pls excuse the errors and punctuation. Very quick and off the dome, doing this while high and in a gas station parking lot with my homegirls in the back 😣 just had to get this out of my head before I forgot it. Lmk if this has been done! That aside enjoy
_________________
Sylus
Can’t lie the first time you did it was astonished, has never seen ass move like that 🤭
was immediately all for it tho
Has been trained to just take ur bag when certain songs come on bc he knows you’re abt to cut up
now if I’m being honest… this man has no rhythm whatsoever so he won’t be able to catch it fr fr
but often times you find your way to his lap and start throwing it, so he’ll give your ass encouraging taps and has the biggest smirk on his face
Xavier
Jaw dropped the first time
he lowkey snatched you up off that dance floor 😭
yk those TikTok’s of girls dancing and turning
around to twerk, then their boyfriend appears out of thin air to cover the screen so others can’t see. Thats literally Xavier
has no problems with you twerking and in fact thinks your very skilled, he just prefers for you to save that for at home when it’s just the two of you
likes it better when it’s his own private show (iykyk)
Rafayel
Thinks you’re walking art tbfh
has damn near a whole collection of you in his phone dedicated to your twerking vids
the way your ass moves is mesmerizing to him
has a playlist of your fav twerk songs too bc he is always encouraging it
not the best at catching it but best believe he is giving his best fucking effort
it’s lowkey one of the quickest ways to get him hot and bothered but he won’t admit it 😝
has tried to do it himself buuuttt… it just doesn’t move the same way
Caleb
Is accustomed to your twerking
youve done it all your life so he isn’t surprised by it anymore
doesn’t really remember you actually taking the time to learn how to twerk, just remembers waking up one day going to a party with you in your high school years and turning around to bare witness to you throwing it on your homegirls
hearing the first couple seconds of certain songs sets off alarms in his head and he knows to look for you so he can enjoy the show
can catch it, has caught it, will forever be down to catch it
you do it at home constantly so he’s pretty good at catching it when you throw it on him
is also pretty ok at twerking himself (it took years of your lessons to get him there but hey now he has a party trick)
Zayne
Was probably the most flustered to find this out abt you
he just hasn’t imagined you could move like that so it caught him very off guard
while you grew up together, he just hasn’t had the chance to figure this fact out abt you yet
is mesmerized but you’d only know it by the look in his eye and the red tips of his ears, other than that his face is as calm and collected as usual
can’t really catch it but is wonderful at slow grinding on the dance floor
your back pressed to his front, hips swaying against his, his hands dancing in and down your waist or hips . Just gyrating and feeling the tensions between your bodies
When he was nine, sitting cross-legged on the sun-warmed schoolyard grass, he folded a crooked paper ring out of your maths notebook margin. Smudged with pencil graphite and sticky with sweat, he’d slipped it onto your ring finger with a smug, self-satisfied grin.
“Hah, i bet you’ll cry at your wedding, pipsqueak.”
Your cheeks burned as you tugged your hand away shyly. “We’re just playing house, Caleb…”
But he puffed out his chest, shaking his messy hair with a determined glint in his eyes.
“I’ll marry you for real one day. Not with paper rings… but with the prettiest ring ever. You’ll see.”
You’d only rolled your eyes, calling him dummy before scampering away. But Caleb, even at nine, had made himself a silent vow under the lilac sky: I’ll keep that promise. I’ll become someone worthy of her.
Now, as he stands under a pale lilac archway adorned with sakura blossoms and baby’s breath, his crisp colonel uniform exchanged for an elegant black suit hugging his broad shoulders, Caleb realises he was wrong about one thing.
Because he’s crying.
Ugly crying.
Four tissues in, his nose is red, eyes puffy, and his chest clenches so tight it almost hurts. His hands tremble as he watches you walk down the aisle. Each step you take towards him feels like a miracle drawn out in slow motion – your dress whispering along the marble floor, your hair pinned in the style he once told you was his favourite, your lips curved into the softest, most beautiful smile he’s ever seen.
And on your ring finger glitters the proof of his childhood vow – a diamond ring crafted specially with his hard-earned colonel money, designed meticulously with trembling hands in secret. A ring so beautiful, so uniquely you, it outshines every gem in the world. Because you deserve nothing less. Because you were the one who believed in him before anyone else did.
When you reach him, he barely manages to choke out a broken laugh. Tears slip faster down his cheeks as he takes your trembling hand in his, raising it to his lips. His kiss against your knuckles is soft yet desperate, almost reverent, and when his tear-filled eyes meet yours, you see his entire childhood in them – the boy who built paper plane armies, the teenager who protected you from bullies, the young man who trained until dawn, swearing he’d become someone worthy of you.
“You’re… you’re really here,” he whispers hoarsely, voice cracking mid-sentence. “I… I kept my promise… no more paper rings… only the best for you.”
Your own eyes brim with tears at his vulnerability. You nod, squeezing his hand as your thumb brushes away the tear slipping down his cheek.
When the officiant clears his throat and announces, “Now you may kiss the bride,” Caleb doesn’t wait. Before the words fully leave the officiant’s mouth, his hands cup your cheeks, and his lips crash onto yours.
It’s not a delicate, polite wedding kiss. It’s Caleb – raw, passionate, overwhelming, as if he’s trying to memorise the taste of your mouth for the rest of his life. The kiss deepens when he feels you lean into him, arms curling around his shoulders as the guests erupt in laughter and claps.
You gasp softly when he tightens his grip around your waist, pulling you flush against his trembling chest. Tears slip down his cheeks onto yours, mixing your happiness with his as he breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against yours.
His breaths are ragged, eyes dazed, voice shaking with raw emotion.
“God… is this real…? It’s not a dream… right…?”
You smile through your tears, pinching his cheek with gentle firmness. “Does that feel real enough, Colonel Crybaby?”
“OW—” He yelps softly before his eyes widen and his lips break into a radiant, goofy smile. A half-choked laugh bubbles out of him, filled with relief, wonder, and the uncontainable joy bursting out of his chest. His shoulders shake with sobs and laughter at the same time as he clutches you tighter.
“Haha… guess it’s real then… God, baby… I… I’m the happiest man alive.”
He kisses you again, salty tears trailing into your joined smiles, as if sealing the childhood promise with a forever vow. And in that moment, under the indigo twilight sky dotted with origami birds drifting in the breeze, Caleb knows that the boy who once folded paper rings would always love you – but the man you married today would love you even harder, every single day until the stars went out.
you're insecure about your body? he worships the ground you walk on . . . implied chubby/curvy reader, body insecurity, he's down bad, fluff, suggestive
You stand in front of the mirror, tugging at the hem of your new sundress. It’s soft yellow with tiny white daisies printed all over, cinching at your waist before flowing down your thighs. You frown, fingers pinching at the fabric over your hips. It looks tight… does it cling too much?
“Babe…?”
Caleb’s voice rumbles from behind you. You turn, startled, to find him standing in the doorway, still wearing his flight jacket unzipped over a plain black shirt. His hair is a mess, probably from running a hand through it in frustration, as he’s prone to do when he’s deep in calculations or thinking about you too hard.
But right now?
He’s not thinking. He’s staring.
“Woah…” His voice comes out low, nearly a growl, and his purple eyes darken with something primal as they rake over your figure. He blinks once, twice, as if trying to reboot his entire system.
Your cheeks burn under his gaze. “It’s… it’s too tight, right?” You look down, tugging at the material again. “I think it makes me look—”
“Stop.” His voice is so firm that you freeze, wide-eyed, as he strides towards you in two long steps. He towers over you, looking down with parted lips, his breath shaky as his eyes trace the curve of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the soft swell of your hips and thighs hugging the floral cotton. You watch as his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows.
“Too tight?” His voice is barely above a whisper as he lifts his hand, calloused fingers brushing your cheek, then trailing down your neck until they ghost over the strap of your dress. His eyes flick up to meet yours. “Sweetheart… I…” He sighs, shaking his head with a soft, helpless laugh. “I can’t even stand up straight looking at you right now.”
Your brows knit in confusion until your gaze flickers down—and oh. His flight pants aren’t hiding anything. The tent at his crotch is unmistakable, straining against the fabric, throbbing slightly as he shifts closer to you.
“Caleb—!” you squeak out, slapping a hand to your mouth as he smirks, almost embarrassed.
“Don’t go hiding from me, baby,” he murmurs, leaning down to press his lips to your ear, voice deep and ragged. “Do you have any idea… what you do to me?” His hands cup your waist firmly, thumbs stroking your sides as he inhales shakily. “You’re perfect. Every single curve, every little softness. This dress? God…” He presses his forehead to your shoulder, panting softly. “You could wear a trash bag and I’d still lose my mind. But this?” His grip tightens, fingers digging into your plush hips, groaning low in his chest. “This is gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.”
You tremble in his hold as he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, gaze dark and molten. “You think you’re not beautiful? That you’re anything less than a goddamn dream?” His lips twitch into a small, breathless smile. “Don’t say that again. Or I swear to the stars…” His voice drops to a low, husky whisper, “I’ll have to remind you exactly how perfect you are… until you can’t stand.”
Your knees nearly buckle at his words, heat pooling between your thighs, but he catches you effortlessly with a quiet chuckle, his arms wrapping around your waist. He presses a kiss to your temple, voice gentle despite the hard bulge pressed against your stomach.
“Go get your bag, sunshine,” he murmurs, nuzzling your cheek lovingly. “I’m taking you out for dinner. And then…” His hand trails down your back to squeeze your ass with a possessive growl, “…I’m taking you apart.”
