This was obvious, he thought, considering how he threatened away any boy who dared to show interest in you all your childhood. But what he wasn’t prepared for was you barely being able to take the length of even his pinky exploring inside you. This was the furthest you both had ever gone; the most you’d done before this were heated makeout sessions and lovebites. So, when he finally got to see his darling pips quivering beneath him, legs spread wide and your cunt displayed to him in all its glory, he of course went straight for the prize.
He feverishly made out with it, acting like he’d missed her all his life. Just as you started to question who his true lover actually was, he exploratively poked a finger at your entrance. But the moment he tried to push it in a little, an unexpected jolt of pain shot through your entire body.
“Ah, Caleb! It hurts–” Almost like he snapped out of a daze, he looked up at you with wide eyes. “Wai– I'm sorry, did I go too far–” Just as a myriad of apologies were about to spill from his lips, you slowly reassured him. “No! It's okay, you didn't do anything wrong.” A blanket of warmth slowly creeping up your cheeks, you continued, “It's just.. I've never actually fingered myself. It hurts to put anything up there.”
You always figured it was your lack of experience, or even a lack of arousal when you played with yourself, so you had stuck to the outside, resorting to playing with your clit whenever you needed to de-stress. Until now, that is.
You saw a flash of confusion on Caleb's face before it settled into a smug smile. “Aw, pips doesn't know how to play with herself.” Inwardly, though, he sneered. All he could think about was how he could teach you how to feel good in a way you had never felt before, to have parts of you that nobody, not even you, had explored. He truly, truly got his pips all to himself. So, he made this his personal mission.
After a week or so of consistent “training,” as he called it—pulling you aside anywhere and everywhere to get a taste of you, entirely impatient in his endeavor to make you ready for him, you had finally worked up to taking two of his fingers with only a slight ache.
“I'm so proud of you, baby,” he would reassure you, again and again, cooing in your ear as he encouraged you to take yet another inch for him.
But one of those days, tired from all the work he was making you put in (though really, you just sat there and took him), you whined, “Caleb– don't you think two fingers are enough? They're so big.” Caleb looked down at you, his two middle fingers shoved deep up your pussy, juices and foam dripping off his knuckles, a mix of your arousal and his own saliva. He huffed mockingly, tilting his head slightly. “Oh, baby, trust me, they're not nearly big enough.”
Caleb, in no way, was a small man. Every part of him constantly enveloped you, and his fingers were no exception. They were huge compared to yours; if you had trouble taking your own, there was a reason it took so many sessions just to be able to take his. A part of you felt inexplicably aroused at the threat of him giving you more, but the bigger part of you was terrified. There is no way. “But Caleb, please–”
Before you could complain any further, Caleb shushed you with a hard kiss, pulling away from you entirely and releasing his fingers from your warmth with a wet squelch. You moaned at the sudden emptiness, almost clawing at him to come back. But he ignored you, busy licking your nectar off his fingers before his other hand went down to his waistband, tugging at his boxers and pulling them down entirely.
Your eyes went wide. Suddenly, all you could focus on was the sheer length of his cock, now released from his pants. You could always tell he was big,judging from the faint outline through his sweatpants whenever you had a hug too long or a touch too heated, but this? This was insanity! There is no way you could take all of him.
At that, big crocodile tears slipped down your cheeks. Caleb leaned back down to your face and comforted you, an evil smile playing on the corner of his lips. “Shh, it's okay, pips. But you agree we need to train you more, yeah?”
You didn't think it was possible. You were sprawled on your back, knees bent and thighs pinned open, with Caleb holding you down with both his hands and his evol as his thick, heavy cock was fed into you inch by inch. He knew that if he made any attempt to release you, you would make a dash for it.
So all you could do for now, as your pussy sputtered and clenched around the invasion, was lay there, more hazy than ever. With tears slipping down the sides of your cheeks, you couldn't do anything but absentmindedly whine and beg him. You didn't even know if you were begging him to stop, or begging him to shove everything deep inside you just so you could feel all of him at once.
You left deep indents in his back, nails scratching and teeth biting until you drew blood. “Ah Caleb– no more please. Ish too much !” words slurring yet Caleb did not relent, continuing his intrusion while caressing your face. “No, honey, you’re doing so well for me. You wanna make gege proud of you, no?” Your nose flared at that, your pupils completely taking over your eyes. He knew that if there was anything you wanted in this world, it was to make him proud. He knew that all through your childhood, you would do absolutely anything just to hear his standard, “I’m so proud of you, pips,” followed by him ruffling your hair and smiling down at you with pure adoration. Back then, it meant foraging flowers, helping him build things, or finishing your homework. He had always had you wrapped around his finger, and now, around his cock.
Yes yes yes yes yes yes. Feverishly now, you nodded, pushing through the pain and taking all of gege's cock, looking up at him with sudden determination. “Ca-leb–” you stuttered, the words tumbling out, “just do it! Push it all in. I need to feel all of you now, pleasepleaseplease.” Caleb bit his lip, feeling himself get even harder just watching you beg, whine, and struggle over his dick. Whatever mei-mei wants, she gets, right?
So he pushed your knees all the way back into the mattress, holding your entire body hostage as he drilled himself all the way in. “FUCK!” you screamed, tears flowing out even faster now as you arched off the bed in a mix of resistance and pleasure. Caleb’s forehead fell against yours. He whispered a ragged, “I’m so proud of you, pips,” before pulling you into a deep kiss. You moaned. That was exactly what you needed to hear. Suddenly, you ignored all the ache down there as your mind was entirely consumed by him. You could feel yourself turning into a mindless sex toy, existing only to please him,
“Caleb, please,” you whimpered, unconsciously rutting up against him. Caleb, still completely smug, challenged you. “Please what, honey? I’m gonna need you to use your words.” You couldn’t help but sob at that. Any obstacle keeping Caleb from shoving his cock into you again and again felt like the world ending. “I know you can do it, honey. Come on,” he murmured, holding your jaw and shaking your fucked-out face.“PLEASE FUCK ME, CALEB!” you finally gave in, fully desperate. Chuckling, Caleb took his place. Groving his hands into the fat of your thighs, he started a brutal pace inside you. The sheer length of him repeatedly hammered into spots you never even knew existed. For fuck's sake, you could feel him all the way in your womb.
“Goddammit, pips, you’re so fucking tight,” he whimpered, sounding like it took all his willpower not to give you his load right then and there. But between the two of you, you were the weaker link. A few more thrusts of him pushing against your A-spot, you felt a foreign sensation take over your entire body. This didn’t feel like a normal orgasm, oh, no, no. This felt way different. A pressure was building up deep in your lower belly. Before you could stop yourself, or even warn Caleb about the strange new sensation, you erupted. With a loud moan, your pussy clenched tighter than ever and squirted everywhere, making a slick mess right where you were connected.
“You’re so fucking hot, pips,” he said through clenched teeth. His eyes were blown wide, looking at all the juices you’d squirted onto him, and this was his breaking point, too. With one final, deep push that felt like it penetrated all the way through your cervix, Caleb pumped his cum into you. He slowed down his thrusts but didn't entirely stop yet; he wanted to keep forcing every bit of his load inside, not letting a single drop go to waste. He went almost feral when he saw some of it leaking back out of your hole, pulling out in a fluid motion and frantically scooping everything back in with his fingers.
Your abused hole was quivering and your body shaking, you didn't have the energy to move a muscle, so you let Caleb take care of everything from there. He noticed you had bled a little on the sheets, expectedly, he thought, but this made him feel a pang of guilt regardless. You had whiplash with the sudden switch caleb had, now looking at you with all the gentleness and patience in the world, contrary to the aggressive fucking he just gave you. You liked this though, you loved this.
♡ Bunny's Note: Thank you so much for reading, hunbuns! This piece was actually inspired by a little bit of personal experience with my ex ;) There is plenty more coming for this smut series every other day. Drop a comment or send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist so you don't miss any of the upcoming days! ₍ ᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ₎
do they prefer ass or tits? (or is there a secret option?)
xavier!
xavier prefers tits. he loves it when he gets to bury his face in your soft, squishy tits. when he gets sleepy during movie marathon at night with you, he rests his head on your shoulder first, before that freak suddenly turned his head to your chest and breathe you in as if he couldn’t live without having his face squeezed in between your soft tits. oh he doesn’t forget to cup one, or maybe two of your tits with his big hands if he’s feeling greedy (which he always does). when cuddling, his hands would always slipped under your shirt and if you’re wearing bra, he would just unhook it so he could cup it with his hands. “what do you need a bra for? i can hold it for you. i can keep it warm too.” oh another reason he prefers your tits is probably because he loves boobjob. he could feel his precum dripping out more and more when he placed his hard cock between your soft tits. the way your soft skin rubbed his cock and the heat between them makes him want to burst right at your face. you would let him tho, wouldn’t you?
zayne!
it’s known that zayne likes your back. he would always gets and spoils you with outfits and suspiciously all of it somehow has a way to show off your back. you figured it out yourself with the way he would always has you on all fours and him taking you from behind. he gets the meanest and roughest in that position. if he didn’t have any self control, he would love to breed you in that position too. but that’s his dirty secret and let it be that way. zayne wouldn’t hesitate to say your back if you asked him which part of your body is his favourite. but if you specifically asked, ass or tits, the doctor would probably go for ass. he loves how it jiggles whenever his hip thrusts into you. when the soft skin of your ass turned red from his spankings whenever you’re being bratty, he feels like being meaner. “you love getting on my nerves, don’t you? it’s like you actually want me to punish you.” it’s okay, zayne will just spanks you while he pounds you from behind! after all, you do love getting punished by him.
rafayel!
it is hard to tell which part of your body rafayel is into. the artist loves to worship every inch of your skin and body. he gives all of them equal love and affection, never forgetting to kiss every part of you. however, you do notice he gives your tummy a little more attention than the others. you don’t understand how he would love your tummy more, you don’t really like it but oh well. whenever you are cuddling with him, he loves to give a little rub to your belly. when things get heated, he would lower his head down to your tummy to give it kisses. if he’s feeling possessive, you would find him leaving a few bite marks and hickeys. he could get off to your belly alone. you would lay there feeling exposed, looking up at him while he strokes his throbbing cock above your stomach. “how could you dislike a part of you that i really love, cutie? i’m offended.” he would make sure to paint your belly with his warm cum so that you know how he really loves it and shouldn’t dare to dislike his favourite thing. ass or tits? tummy.
sylus!
sylus makes it obvious how he loves your thighs. his eyes shine bright whenever you wear shorts, mini skirts or a slit dress (bonus if the colour of the dress is red). he is shameless about it too, practically gawking when you dressed the way he likes it for your date with him. sometimes you wouldn’t even make it to the date! bad, greedy sylus is to blame. or is it you for wearing those? his favourite view is when you pair your shorts with one of his shirts. walking around the house, completely clueless that a certain predator is watching you from the corner. be careful to not bend over with that outfit. since he’s also fond of ass, that action isn’t helping you! the moment you bend over, you would feel your feet lifted off the ground, before getting thrown on the bed. “did you do that on purpose, sweetie? what a naughty kitten.” you would see the stars with how he’s eating you out after. his tongue shoved inside your hole while his finger keeps rubbing your clit. oh if you want to make him see stars too (and cums untouched), you should squeeze him with your thighs! he would die a happy man.
caleb!
caleb wasn’t breastfed as a child. that poor boy doesn’t get enough love when he was a kid. thank god you’re here tho! caleb loves to bury his face in your chest whenever you’re cuddling together. he loves how safe being in your embrace makes him feel. when he gets his hands on you, he never wants to let go. he wants you and him to fuse together, so he doesn’t have to worry about you leaving him. and vice versa. you loves burying your face in his chest. that’s the thing you two have in common, finding comfort in inhaling each other’s warmness. but caleb has it quite different. while he loves to rest his face in your chest, he loves it more to suck on them. he has this imagination when you bare his kids, and your tits gets all swollen with milk, he would love to help the ache go away with emptying the milk. he wanna be a good and useful husband. he’s also a pervert who sneak up from behind and grope your tits. he does this all the time, while you were doing your laundry, washing your face, or getting ready. you protested but it means nothing to caleb. he wanna touch you all the time. when you got mad, he would just gave you his stupid puppy eyes. “don’t be mad at me pips, please? i just love you so much… need you…” sometimes you’re grateful when the harmless groping didn’t turned out to both of you fucking like animals because most of the time, it did.
1. Getting railed in every sundress you own to make up for lost time, with Caleb.
2.Hide and Seek with Sylus but then it turns into Find and Fuck.
3. Xavier's skincare is you sitting on his face.
4. Zayne loves your lingerie so much he doesn't take it off. He just pulls the top down and your panties to the side 90% of the time.
5. “yeah? right there?” in a mocking voice with Rafayel.
6. Forehead kisses with Caleb while he pumps you full of his cum.
7. Forced eye contact, chin held between fingers and being told in a calm, but firm voice "dont look away, I want to watch your face when you cum, with Sylus.
8.Cuddles that get sexual then sweet again with Xavier.
9. Bulge pics from work to show you that he misses you, with Zayne.
10. Rafayel kisses every single birthmark, scar, mole and freckle as he undresses you.
11. "I know baby" while you are cumming with Caleb.
12. Sylus fucks you so good you masturbate the next day thinking about it.
13. Thighjobs with Xavier
14. Suck on my fingers before I slide them inside you with Zayne.
15. Cockwarming while he sucks on your tits with Rafayel
16 Stroking his cock and not breaking eye contact until he cums all over you with Caleb.
17. Cockwarming after creampie with Sylus.
If you have any more ideas feel free to share them in the comments or anonymously 😉
sigh, i know this can be seen as toxic sometimes, but...
sukuna always fixing your clothes when you're out.
pulling your top up with a big unapologetic hand when it dips too low, giving a generous view of your breasts.
pulling your skirt down and coming to stand behind you when you bend over carelessly, almost flashing everyone around you.
you can certainly wear whatever you want, he doesn't control you, but there are limits.
"you tryna give everyone a free show or something?"
you smile up at him, carefree, tilting your head all cute. "you'd never let that happen, baby."
"tch." he rolls his eyes playfully, trying to hide his smirk as he slides his arm around your waist, pride filling his chest as he scans the room, sure to scare anyone off that looks at you for too long.
Sylus is a Warlord, and he knows you're out there somewhere... and he's done waiting for you.
5.2K word count.
There were no screams, no smoke—not yet. If anything, the day was perfect, with the midday sunshine draping over your shoulders like a shawl. The breeze carried that sweet scent of wildflowers from the fields beyond your small town, warm and pleasant.
But you could feel it.
Dread, heavy and oily in your gut.
Something was coming.
Someone.
It was inevitable, really. All of the villages to the south had been pillaged months ago by the clashing Warlords, and the straggling survivors now crawled about your streets for refuge. You prayed it might be the terror from the South, or even that brute from the West… anyone but the Dragon.
They said that he’d been born in the depths of a volcano, cracked from an egg that fell from the heavens, his godly appetite ill-suited for this earthly realm. You shuddered to even think what he might look like. No doubt he was a dark and endless form, with scales of steel, blades for teeth, and eyes that burned like coals.
Today was stunning, and still, you knew. You knew.
It felt almost juvenile to be upset. Why must a calamity happen today, of all days? This was meant to be your moment. For months, you’d waited patiently, worked persistently, and there upon your hip was your completed marital pouch. You chose to finalise the embroidery with golden silk strands, the phoenix flaring its metallic wings… but from a distance, you supposed it looked more like a crow.
You were going to give it to a suitor this evening, the ceremony to begin at sunset. The entire town was hustling for it, laughing and gathering supplies. How could they not feel it? Not see it? That stillness that pierced the air, how the shadows were darker… deeper… like you might fall in…
You tried to swallow away the dryness that stuck in your throat. You had to flee, and yet your feet remained rooted in the earth. Even if you sounded an alarm, who would believe you? Now clutching your pouch to your chest, you let out a deep sigh.
And you ran.
Not to escape, but for help. The merchant city wasn’t far, half a day’s journey if you didn’t stop. Perhaps you’d manage to convince some soldiers to come. If you were wrong, well, it was best to be precautious.
+++
You’d barely run for ten minutes before you felt it.
Something was watching. Following.
Waiting.
Like the calm before the storm, something crackled through the grassland, vivid and alive. With a shiver, you slowed your pace, whipping your head over your shoulder to catch the culprit.
Nothing, only swaying green and the blurring of pretty blooms.
With a relieved sigh, you pressed on.
Only to be met with the looming presence of him.
There he stood, a statue carved from marble. Carved from death. By the gods, he was tall. Thighs like trunks, torso rippling with muscle, arms folded across the expansive plane of his chest. Then you met his gaze, and the breath was stolen right out of your lungs.
Like gemstones, those ruby eyes gleamed, burning bright and framed by sharp features, and ashen hair that fell down his form like a waterfall. Obsidian horns towered from his head, gleaming, almost wet. Thin chains of gold wrapped about his bare chest, as well as decorative paint.
And then he took a step toward you. Then another. You’d been running before, but now?
You bolted, heart hammering like a drum—a war drum.
You barely made it ten strides before you were ensnared by two enormous arms.
With a shriek, you thrashed and fought, but it was no use. The tower of a Warlord hoisted you over his shoulder, a darkly delighted chuckle rumbling from his throat. You smacked your fists against his pale, painted back, the swirls of paint smearing from your blows.
“Let go of me!”
The Dragon chuckled again.
“Let me go! Let me GO!”
“Or what?” He finally spoke, voice smooth and rich, his taunt coiling about your neck like a noose.
You kept fighting, scratching hard against his back, slicing his skin, but he didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. With all your strength, you managed to hoist yourself up just enough to sink your teeth into the back of his neck. You dug deep until the taste of copper dribbled down your throat.
The Warlord erupted into laughter. Even as the crimson dripped down his back, like streaks of new paint, he merely shook you about, and you slung back down. Tears welled at the corners of your eyes, your panic now ripening into full-blown fear.
What was he going to do to you?
“Please,” you whispered this time, brimmed with terror. “Please, please don’t hurt me.”
Your frightened plea had the Warlord halt, and he placed you down into the grass. Your lower lip trembled as you stared at him, a hot pain blooming behind your eyes, and you held back the tears. And then, your heart sank into your knees, as he produced your pouch.
Dangling from two fingers, he held the pouch out to taunt you. “Your elders spoke of this. A girl gives it as a present to her beloved. Isn’t that right?”
Petrified, you barely managed to nod.
The Warlord—the Dragon—leaned forward, until he was so close his nose was a breath from yours. “Do you have a lover?”
Again, terror clawed at you, and you shook your head.
He gripped your chin, not enough to hurt, but just enough to convey that he could.
“Tsk.” With his other hand, he still dangled the pouch, and you couldn’t help but side-eye it. “I said, 'Do you have a lover?”
Oh.
Dragging back to meet his stare, you swallowed thickly, as if it might aid your heart back into place. “If I did, then he wouldn’t hurt my people?” You’d intended to sound strong, but your voice was pitched and breathless.
The Dragon smirked, lifting his chin with satisfaction, and purred, “he wouldn’t.”
“Then yes,” you agreed softly. “I do have a lover.”
He curled the pouch into his fist, and with one last moment to stare into you, the Warlord released you. Skin prickled and hot from his touch, you rubbed at it.
“Come along, then,” he ordered, something dark simmering beneath that blood-red gaze. “Let us be wed, then.”
+++
The wedding was awful.
Cold, silent, and thrumming with fear.
Sylus, however, was anything but. Unable to leave his side, the warmth of his body seeped into you. After the vows, he had insisted on a bonfire, to which he drank and sang, all in your honour. Witnessing the Dragon drunk might have been amusing if he weren’t so terrifying.
Your entire town watched you quiver before the white-haired man, heads hung, and gazes averted. Not even your parents came to your defence. What was worse than the wedding was knowing it would eventually come to an end.
And you would be his.
You knew it was a fool’s dream to believe your first time would be in love. That it would be kind and gentle. At least you’d been able to choose your husband, though. You had one or two in mind, having grown up with some of the men.
Seated at a grand table, food being brought to you in waves, you tried to smile. Really, you did. You didn’t want Sylus thinking you were ungrateful, after all. He was going to spare your village, all for something as simple as you?
You could be miserable all you wanted, but at least your people would live.
And yet, he noticed your stiffness. How your shoulders tensed, and your fingers trembled, even as you clenched them in your lap. With one large hand, he settled it around the base of your neck, and you couldn’t help but flinch.
“Are you cold?” He drawled, knowing very well you weren’t, and with gentle pressure, began to massage you.
With a deep breath, you steadied your smile and blinked up at him. “A little.”
“Come closer, then.”
Grabbing the edge of your chair, he dragged you over. Your short breaths drew to a complete stop as your arm brushed against his.
“Thank you,” you managed to murmur.
With a slow smile, he leaned down and inhaled, letting your scent fill his lungs. “You’re welcome… wife.”
A shiver ripped up your spine, right into Sylus’ grip as he continued to work your muscles carefully. “Surely you’re still not cold?”
“I don’t know,” you breathed.
“My lap is available.”
You looked at him then—really looked at him, with his smooth skin, firm jaw, and prominent nose. You noticed how in the firelight, he seemed softer, more human, horns almost invisible against the night that lurked behind him. If you had enough to drink, you might even forget he was a Warlord.
“Um,” you chewed your lip, not sure how to reject him—if you could.
His rumbling chuckle reverberated between you. “Why do you look so startled? I’m not going to bite, unlike you,” he purred the word.
Your eyes flickered to where you’d sunk your teeth, the mark covered with a healing balm, but even through the waxen appearance, you could see the red marks.
“I’m sorry for that.”
“I’ve faced far more vicious foes than you,” he said with jest, and yet you knew it was true. Then, he patted the top of his thighs, motioning with his brows to obey. With a silent whimper, you crawled from your seat, sitting tentatively on him. He tugged at your hips, planting you more firmly, one hand coming to rest on your knee.
“Lean back,” his command was soft, but a command it was.
You did, heartbeat stuck in your throat. By the gods, he was warm, even shirtless; the heat from him engulfed you, threatening to burn you alive.
“Comfortable?” he asked into the shell of your ear.
You were distinctly aware of how your rear was pressed against him, how the plush of your thighs fit against his. You bit down on your tongue to withhold a yelp as you felt his mouth brush the nape of your neck.
“I have half a mind to return the favour,” and as promised, his teeth scraped ever so gently along your skin. With a violent shudder, you clenched everywhere, bracing for pain. “Where I am from, leaving marks is a great romantic gesture.”
Of course it was.
“Oh,” you uttered weakly. “I didn’t know that.”
“Do you accept?” He purred, the force of it thundering through you.
What was the alternative? Scanning the crowd, seeing all those you ever loved, you took a deep breath.
“Yes.”
He chuckled darkly, his hands coming to settle on your hips. “That doesn’t sound very enthusiastic.”
You let your head loll onto his shoulder, hoping that your closed eyes conveyed a dreamy look. “Please.”
You couldn’t help but scrunch, anticipating the pain… only it never came. Sylus planted a tender kiss upon your pulse point, breathing in deep once more, as if trying to drown in you.
“It doesn’t count if you don’t mean it,” he whispered into your skin.
You sucked in your bottom lip, afraid he’d punish you for it, but he merely guided you off his lap, letting you slip back onto your own seat. Blinking up at him with startled confusion, he smiled, but you noticed the sliver of sorrow swimming within them.
You went to lie, to convince him that you’d do anything he asked… but the words didn’t come.
The night moved quickly, your people coming to loosen up as the pleasant flow of alcohol washed away the nerves. Sylus wouldn’t hurt anyone, not as long as you remained by his side. Still, the only thing holding him back was his word, and all heard tales of the Dragon’s temper. None dared do anything but drink and smile.
With much dread, it came time to retire. The rest of Sylus’ camp had arrived, participating in the late events, their tents littering the open space beyond the walls of your town. And so, with your hand interlaced in his, you were led away.
++++
You sat on the edge of the bed, blood ice cold. Sylus had his back to you as he removed his jewellery. You stared holes through him, watching the massive expanse of him subtly flex with his movements. Every aspect of him was enormous, and you could only quiver with fear, actively gulping.
When Sylus finally turned, he met your gaze and held it, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“Are you going to sleep in that?”
You peered down, forgetting that you were still clad in a ceremonial gown. A heat crept up your neck, a stark contrast to the chill that haunted you.
“I have nothing else.”
You anticipated a crude remark about being naked, but rather, he paced across the luxurious tent and fetched you a linen gown. “Here,” he said, passing it to you.
Clearing your throat, you rose to change, but there was nowhere to offer cover. At this point, Sylus had reclined into the bed, hands tucked behind his head in a leisurely manner, eyes never once leaving you.
He wanted to watch.
Your whole body was on fire, knees wobbling slightly as your head spun. No one had ever seen you naked before, and you couldn’t quite comprehend that a carnivorous Warlord would be the first.
Cheeks aflame, you began slowly, half cowered from his prying gaze. The sleeves of your gown slipped down your arms, the front coming to soften about your chest. Closing your eyes to hide, you let the rest of it slip down and crumple at your feet, and with haste, slipped into the garment Sylus offered you.
Opening your eyes, you dared a peek at the giant man, only to find he had his head tilted right back, eyes closed. A soft snore slipped from him, and like a bucket of water, relief washed over you.
He hadn’t seen.
Crawling in beside him, he was still atop some of the blankets. You held your breath as you poked his bicep. Like a crocodile, one blazing red eye cracked open, slitted pupil focusing into a round one as it registered you.
“You’re… you’re on the blanket,” your hushed tone barely left your lips.
With a lazy smirk, he adjusted, and you were both beneath the spread. Lying flat on your back, you stared at the roof, wondering if waking him had been a mistake. You could have simply slept on the floor, shivering cold, but unclaimed.
Still your own.
Sylus rolled onto his side to face you, fingertips ghosting along your temple, coming to trace the curve of your ear.
“Is this ok?” He murmured.
Your vision flickered onto him, and his gaze drooped down to notice your quivering bottom lip. He removed his touch.
“I won’t touch you,” he whispered, a strange pain twisting across his face. “Not unless you want me to.”
This was the Dragon? The man who burned houses and slaughtered the innocent? You didn’t believe it. This was a trick, some ploy to have you lower your guard. You knew the second you fell asleep, he’d pounce.
With a sudden possession of courage, glancing back to the ceiling, you rasped, “What if I don’t want you to ever touch me?”
A barely audible gasp escaped his lips—yet you still heard it. He huffed, averting his gaze, then settled onto his back, the same as you. “Then I will never touch you.”
You weren’t sure why, but tears welled at the corners of your eyes.
“That’s it?”
He scoffed. “You almost sound disappointed.”
“I…” You trailed off, needing to gather your jumbled thoughts. “You have a reputation… Sylus.” You whispered his name, the taste of it on your tongue nowhere near as repulsive as you’d thought.
“How many women have I wed?”
You paused, unsure.
He shifted, facing you once again, as if needing your gaze. “You are the first… the only.”
You felt your face go pink. “Oh.”
He held up his palm, and he let it hover in the space between you. Accepting the gentle invitation, you pressed your own against his. He was so warm, so real, his touch creating a tangle of emotion in your stomach.
+++
You awoke with Sylus’ large hand splayed across your ribcage, the warm expanse of his chest pressed against your back. One of your feet was tangled between his legs, and as the grogginess of slumber wore off, you could feel the gentle puff of his breath stir at the back of your head.
You didn’t bolt. Didn’t even move, actually.
Although there was still that lingering thump of fear within your chest, there was something else.
Sylus woke and immediately withdrew himself. The sudden coldness hit you like a slap. Rolling over, you felt confused at the disappointment settling in your chest. You trailed after him as he rose.
“My camp will stay here until you are ready to leave,” he stated, already half-dressed, clipping his chains back on.
Your heart stopped.
Leave?
Of course you’d be leaving. He was a Warlord, a conqueror. His apparent wealth didn’t sprout from the dirt.
You felt unworthy to ask him for another hour, let alone a day. But you longed to say goodbye, to convince your family you’d be alright. That you… might even be happy. Eventually. Maybe.
“Sylus,” you mumbled, his name still so foreign. “Could I please have one more day?”
He turned to face you, fully decorated. Standing there, you couldn’t help but gawk. “A day? You don’t wish for longer? I was prepared to remain here for a month, perhaps even two.”
Your jaw dropped.
His features softened. “I only conquer those who oppose me. Your home has been nothing but welcoming… even if it came from fear. But they are kind. They didn’t need to be kind. I will not rip you from your home.”
His words held edge, an ancient pain laced through his tone… as if he spoke from experience.
“Thank you,” you breathed, unsure of what else to say.
+++
A month had passed since your wedding, and as promised, Sylus never touched you. He barely even looked at you, not unless you looked first. Spoke to him first.
He had fortified your village’s defences, taught your people the art of the bow and sword, and even gifted the elders some of his wealth, so they might strengthen their trades.
At night, he would return to you, quiet and distant. You slept in the same bed, and every morning, you awoke curled right into him. At this point, it shouldn’t have made you so flustered, to make you so quick to retreat.
Whenever your gazes met, you felt your heart spike. As the early days spanned into weeks, you found it to be less out of apprehension and more with curiosity.
Conversations with Sylus grew more meaningful. When you were bolder, you’d ask about the word and its people. He was always honest. He told you of the southern seas and their secret city, for the people wept pearls. He told you how the people to the west would glow at night, as did their flowers.
You were shy to ask questions, but alas, you did. “Would you ever take me to see these places?”
His grin filled you with a surprising warmth. “There is nothing I would ever deny you.”
It made you stay awake at night, staring up at the ceiling. Had the world been wrong about the Dragon?
No, they hadn’t.
The warhorses came at dawn.
At first, you thought it was a storm rolling across the far horizon, but Sylus knew. He jolted from the bed, sword in hand, his men shouting.
It was the Terror, the one from the distant sea. His flaming conquest left no survivors. He had heard of the new bride and wanted her for himself.
You stood on a hill, as did your people, as you all watched in helpless horror. The ebb and flow of blood and steel, how it screamed and sang. In the end, the Terror called for his retreat, and you stared out at him on his monstrous steed, the beast an impossible silver.
You narrowed your eyes in contempt, willing daggers to impale the back of his head.
Sylus returned to you, dripping in gore. You said nothing, only held out your arm for him to take it.
He did.
You guided him not to your shared tent, but to the bathhouse. Entering the steamy hut, you ushered him to sit in the hot spring, all without a word. Sylus obeyed you, occasionally glancing up with a curious gleam.
Sitting by the edge, the hot water lapped at your shins, your bloodied husband nestled between them. You grabbed a cloth, and you began to wash him.
You finally broke the silence. “You saved us all.”
“I promised you my protection.”
“No,” you said, leaning in, arms wrapping around him so you could scrub his chest. “Actually, you didn’t.”
“Oh?” He huffed, but you could hear his smile.
“Thank you,” you whispered into his ear, your stomach twisting as you felt him shiver.
Silence filled the bathhouse once more as you continued your mission. You washed his hair next, fingertips scraping at his scalp, unable to resist a smile as you felt him purr.
“Dragon? More like a cat,” You teased him, your thumbs stroking at his temples.
Sylus’ eyes had been closed, enjoying your care as you dipped his head into the water, rinsing the soap out. Peering up at you, he arched a playful brow. “Is that so?”
You broke into a chuckle, biting your lip in an effort to stop. “Maybe.”
He sat upright, turning to fully face you, that gentle smile he only gave to you gracing his face. You blinked at him once. Twice. You reached in, cradling his face in your palms, gazing deep into those ruby voids.
“I’ve decided,” you announced, stomach flipping at the admission.
He arched a pale brow. “On what?”
You lowered your voice, leaning in slightly, so the breath of your words could caress his mouth. “I want you to touch me.”
You held his stare, heart fluttering as you noticed his right eye sharpening, its red hue glowing. Emboldened, you shifted closer until your noses aligned, lips brushing against his.
“I want you to make me yours.” And to fulfill your request, you pressed your lips to his, a promise.
… Only for him to pull back, his gasp sharp. “Are—are you sure?”
“Please,” you almost whined it, needing him to kiss you, devour you, make you scream.
His pupils flared, his astonishment fading and replaced by something darker, as if he’d heard your wicked little thoughts.
His hands seized your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the spring. You arched in, pressing your body into Sylus as his mouth captured yours. It started soft and teasing, but after several hammering heartbeats, he deepened the claim until it was pure and unrelenting.
You moaned against him, the sensation of it all like molten gold. Your hands found his shoulders, nails digging in as his tongue glided against yours, coaxing for more. He swallowed your breathless pants, your overwhelmed whimpers, all while his burning palms roamed.
Sylus pulled back, breathing ragged. “I have waited… so long for you.”
Something told you he meant more than the past few weeks.
“And now, finally, you’re mine.” His hands tightened on your hips, tugging you closer, like you might dare try to escape.
A startled whine slipped from you as he dipped down, licking the column of your neck. With a slow, deep inhale, a low rumble caught in his throat. “Mine.”
He bit you. Hard. And by the gods, was it glorious. Licking the sensitive mark, his hands glided up, up, up, fingertips grazing your nipples through your dress. You let out an indignant moan. He chuckled, pinching them.
“Ah!”
You were at his mercy now, arching deeper, needing to be closer.
“More,” you gasped. “Please, please, please.”
“Begging already?” He taunted, denying you.
You didn’t have the strength to be cheeky. “Whatever you want,” you sighed, fingers coming to curl at the nape of his neck. “Show me how it feels to be yours.”
Sylus let out a low groan at your words, teeth tugging at your earlobe. “Don’t say things like that unless you mean them, sweetie.” His tone held warning. He was barely restraining himself.
You threaded your fingers deeper into his ashen locks. “Sylus, I need you. Right now.”
His control snapped. Fingers digging into the plush of your thighs, he had you wrap your legs about his waist, and once you were secure, lifted you from the water’s edge. He strode out of the bathhouse, right across the campsite—you didn’t care. Sylus didn’t stop until you were sprawled across your bed, panting with need.
“Your first time should be somewhere you feel warm,” he explained, caging himself over you. “Somewhere comfortable and safe.”
“I feel those things when I’m with you,” you murmured, caressing his cheek.
He kissed you, sensual and slow, and seemed content to keep it that way. You, however, were impatient, a burning, aching need coiling low in your core.
“Sylus,” you sighed into his mouth, nails raking down the back of his neck, digging into his shoulders. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”
Nipping at your bottom lip, he let out a dark chuckle. Sylus trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, gliding down the column of your neck. Gripping the front of your dress, he tore it right off, mindful not to hurt you in the process. Breasts bared for him, his grin was sinful, and he dipped down to suck on a nipple, squeezing the other.
“I want to take my time with you,” he panted, switching to your other breast, licking at your sensitive bud.
You threaded your fingers through his damp hair, squirming as he palmed and suckled, swirling his tongue with delicious pressure. You couldn’t help but whimper, try to clamp your legs shut as he descended lower, licking at your skin. His teeth grazed your hip bone, a teasing promise of what was to come.
“I want to savour your taste,” he murmured, voice thick. His words hung over you, already overwhelmed by the heat Sylus was stirring from you. It was only when his hands–those ridiculous, strong hands–gripped your thighs, ensuring that they remained completely open for him, did it register.
You sucked down your yelp as his tongue flicked out, only a simple tease, but to you, it was maddening. Sylus began gently, although you could feel his thrumming restraint. It was almost testing, the way he licked, until finally, when you began to let yourself fall away into euphoria, he gave you everything.
His grip on you tightened as he worked you, unrelenting until your cheeks were wet from pleasured tears. You tugged at his horns, squirmed to escape, the sensation impossible, pure, electric. You wouldn’t survive it.
“It’s alright,” he rasped with reassurance, “you can come for me.”
You were no stranger to masturbation. Had given yourself countless orgasms, but nothing ever came close to what Sylus was doing to you. It was as if your soul was about to soar out of your body, your release threatening to plunge you into an abyss.
The heat of him was going to shatter you entirely.
You outright screamed when he deepened his claim, slipping two devastating fingers into your soaked core. “I’ve got you,” he whispered.
The tension finally snapped, and you came, the surge of it like a thundering wave. It flowed right into your fingertips, escaping your lips as a strangled whine, back arching off the bed.
After your much-needed deep breaths, Sylus pressed a tender kiss to your inner thigh. “Good girl,” you felt him grin against your skin as he began his ascent.
“I can’t breathe,” you mumbled pathetically, the afterwaves of your release still clinging.
With a husky chuckle, Sylus came back to hover over you, peering down at you with those beautiful crimson eyes. The right was glowing, almost pulsating, as he seemed to roam over your face, an unreadable expression upon it.
“You are everything,” he breathed, and before you could respond, he leaned down to kiss you. One hand skimmed down your side, grasping your hip, caressing your thigh. His touch was pure fire, delicious in its intensity. You slung a leg about his waist, and with your pitiful strength (at least in comparison to him), pulled him flush against you.
Wrapped within his heat, Sylus positioned himself at your core, and all of that burning need had you tremble.
“Please,” you murmured into his mouth.
“Hold onto me,” he whispered, voice like velvet. “Look at me.”
Meeting his gaze, your lips parted into a silent gasp as he, with devastating slowness, sank into you, engulfing you in an inferno of desire. Sylus groaned low in his throat as you took all of him, for even as your breath hitched and tears clung to the corners of your eyes, you didn’t once falter.
Your nails came to dig into his shoulders as he stilled, giving you time to adjust to such fullness. You craned forward to kiss him, needing something—anything—to ground you.
“You’re perfect,” he rasped into your mouth, “you take me so well.” His voice was rough, brimming with restraint, which came to pool low in your stomach.
“More,” you moaned softly, rolling your hips.
The first thrust was so careful, so agonisingly slow, you thought you might explode, until white-hot stars burst behind your eyelids as he pressed deeper.
“I won’t break,” you begged, raking at his back, desperate for more.
His chuckle seemed pained as he buried into your neck, teeth grazing. “You just might, with the things I want to do to you.”
“You promise?” You groaned, arching up into him, your body hungry for more heat, more of him.
Sylus pulled back, that crimson eye fully ablaze from your words. Cupping his cheek, you gave him a weak smile, the pent-up need that burned within you teetering into downright painful.
“I’m not afraid. Please, Sylus. I’m yours… I’m all yours…”
A bright, almost feral shift took hold within him then. With a searing kiss, his pace grew bolder, deeper, and you clung to him fiercely, needing to be anchored as your pleasure grew.
Sylus didn’t lose his control, which you were equally disappointed and grateful for. There was no chance you’d have survived, and yet, you yearned to be shattered by him. Yet, your release was close enough. Like glass, you splintered apart beneath him, everything explosive and burning.
Sylus’ rhythm faltered, the feel of your high too intoxicating. You felt him go to retreat from you, but with spent breath, you whimpered your permission, “Inside.”
With heavy, uneven breaths, he spilled inside of you with a rumbling groan, the weight of it oddly emotional. With a lingering kiss, Sylus pulled from you, then came to prop himself up at your side with an elbow. With gentle fingers, he traced patterns over your skin, an invisible lace. His ruby gaze was still glowing faintly.
“Are you alright?”
Your laugh was completely spent, but full of satisfaction. “I’ve never been better,” you said, genuine.
“What are you thinking right now?”
“How glad I am that you found me in that field.”
Sylus’ smile filled you with a different kind of warmth, something that stirred within the heart. “I would stop at nothing to find you. Now, and always.”
Look, I need to get something off my chest, ok. I am deeply, profoundly envious of the starapple girlies. I want to be one of them. I’m sorry, bunny, I really am, but Zayne has a tight hold on my clit me.
Anyway....
Let’s all just take a collective breath and imagine them, together, fucking your brains out. The possessiveness, the jealousy! 😩💦
Me and the starapple girlies know an universal truth: Xavier is the most jealous, most possessive man between those two and also between all 5 of them. Now, don’t start shaking your heads in denial yet. Hear me out. I have compiled enough evidence in my brain so just let me cook for a second.
Let’s just do a quick comparison to prove my point.
Caleb: Picture it. You're about to cum, the tension is unbearable, he leans down and whispers against your lips:"Eyes on ME while you cum for ME."
Hot? Absolutely. Classic dominant energy.
Xavier: Here you have this innocent looking, sleepy angel of a man. Except he is giving you the most delicious backshots known to men, completely wrecking your insides. And when he knows you are almost there, he doesn't want you looking at him. Oh, no, no. That man leans in, grips your ass a little tighter, and whispers against your ear: "Eyes on HIM while you cum for ME."
Thinking about Sylus who loves a particular kind of gentle skinship: pressing his nose on your skin.
Waiting in line for your sudden milk tea craving and he’s behind you nosing into your hair (he claims it makes the waiting better)
You’re preparing some food on the counter and he’s there behind you pressing his nose on your shoulders as he watches your hands move
You just wanna feed him some fries but he’s grabbing your wrist to press his nose there then playfully nip the side of your thumb instead of the fries
When he’s in a bad mood, just holding you and pressing his nose on your chest and he’s instantly cooled down
You wear an off-shoulder top and you bet he’s gonna be perching his nose there as if he’s Mephisto
Or nuzzling into the crook of your neck when he wants a cuddle
Or catching you right after a shower and he’s running his nose down your arm and giving little pecks
Maybe it’s the feel of your skin, maybe it’s your scent he wants to inhale all the time
Maybe it’s his dragon’s way of showing affection
You’re lying down on one side relaxing and he’d playfully rub his nose on your waist to tickle you and hear you laugh
And when your scent changes he knows you’re ovulating, it’s sweeter he says, with that hungry look in his eyes, because his very favorite place to bury his nose in is—
Wait am i ovulating? (ignores my empty period tracking app, opens Lads instead to consult his notes)
Calebmc with horrible sleeping habits finally sleeping ! Wowie!! I wonder who’s writing this at 4:45am !!
———
It’s rare for either of you to have a good night’s sleep, often interrupted by nightmares, fleet emergencies, a surprise mission, or your bodies simply being restless till the sun comes up and assaults your eyes
Sometimes caleb comes back late, heavy colonel suit on, cap still on, as he moves through the dimly lit apartment, finding you in the midst of paperwork, sprawled all over your desk, your tired body shrivelled up into itself for comfort, neck spraining, Caleb sighing fondly at your pretty face, finally relaxed yet still visibly tired
He’s thankful for his evol, as it’s helped him move you into more comfortable positions, he carried you to the bed, but unfortunately you were already waking up from the force
Even as he shushed you to try to lull you back to sleep, you couldn’t get wink without your Caleb next to you, and who was he to not fulfil any of your demands?
His now freshly showered warm body engulfs your cold, sore one, his arms wrapped all around you, one on your waist as another plays with your unbrushed hair
He mutters how he’ll take care of it in the morning, that you shouldn’t worry about it, mostly talking to himself since you couldn’t care less, you just wanted to be in the warm comforting embrace of his, smelling his freshly washed hair, that vanilla and sandalwood scented body wash already letting your eyes grow heavy
Your natural musk lulled Caleb to sleep already, with his face buried in your neck, his fingers gone still and limp as his body succumbed to the intoxicating feeling of having you finally, after so long, in his arms, in his old shirt, he was all over you and he wouldn’t want it any other way
Neither could you.
It was safe to say you two finally had some relaxing, deep sleep, uninterrupted by the horrors that chase you to your dreams, no emergency or anyone needing assistance
🏐 "𝑪𝑨𝑳𝑬𝑩 𝑿𝑰𝑨," ◦ ₊ㅤ ﹙ nsfw slapping caleb during sex ꗃ .. smut mdni ꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ mina says this is so self idulgent idc sfsjdh ⁀ ˳ ⟡
"Please," he was begging, hips shallowly thrusting against your plump ass, his large hands gently pinning your legs down against your chest to fold you in half. He was desperate, so down bad, and so fucking hard. Eyebrows furrowed, eyes half lidded, and mouth agape to gasp for little breaths of air, looking on the verge of busting inside of you but edging himself to prolong the pleasure.
“Y-you’re gross..” you gasped out softly, resting back on your forearms, closing one eye and moaning when he thrusted just deep enough to hit that spongey spot. Eyes glazing over his needy face, as you tried to look as annoyed.
His thrusts only got quicker and more shallow, shameless whimpers spilling free from his lips as he nodded. “more… c’mon, insult me, slap me, hit me…” he whined, groaning out when he felt your tight pussy squeeze around him. Walls clamped down around his dick, “f-fuck… fuckfuckfuck…” he moaned quietly, as he bit down on his bottom lip and moved his hips much slower, knowing he was about to cum any second now.
“You’re dumb, annoying, arrogant, and you think you own me,” you whined and rattled off, looking at him with tense eyes, before you pouted, and leaned up just a little, moving one of your arms.
SLAP!
His breathing hitched, the room going quiet after your slap, but you didn’t seem sorry or bothered. Laying back down when you felt his dick twitch inside of you, whining softly. His eyes traced back into your naked body beneath him, gaze darkening and tongue pressing against the inside of the cheek you had slapped. He let out a shameless moan before grabbing your thighs tighter and pushing them apart roughly.
“Fuck. You’re so hot.”
Unable to hold back anymore, he sped up his thrusts, lifting his hips back and slamming against your plump ass fast and hard. Squeezing his eyes shut and furrowing his eyebrows, mouth agape in a silent moan. His hips thrusted erratically, your bedroom filled with the creaking of the bed, your moans, and the sound of his hips going “plap! plap! plap!”
He threw his head back, “a-agh..!” moaning out as his hips stuttered, when he finally came deep inside your pussy. Hot, sticky cum flooding your hole as you whimpered and squirmed, body aching and tired.
His hips began to gently roll when his orgasm subsided, looking down at you lustfully. His left hand moving to your inner thigh and thumb gently rubbing and swirling over your clit.
Although it's not necessary I do recommend playing the looped playlist while you read if you can (:
She exhales, and there's ten years in the way she kisses you then, her fingers reaching for the place that's been aching for them for days on end.
☆☆☆☆☆
Time folds. To your dismay, she still hasn't touched you yet. You are already soaking wet, waiting for her touch.
Caleb pulls back and tugs you down by the waist, so gently it feels like a cradle.
“Forgive me. I'm not going to make you wait much longer... I just... I need you just like this... if you'll let me do this right,” she murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear. Kisses there. Your throat, collarbones.
Your whimper under them, your hips buck, desperate.
"I've dreamt of this, so so many times... Just let me show you what I can do for you, okay?"
She shifts her weight and the bed shifts beneath you. Filtered through the curtains, light spills around you, a pale blue cast, an underwater dream, a piece of sky. The slats of the blinds paint stripes onto Caleb's shoulders and neck, your chest. She looks cut open by the light.
"You look so pretty I could cry," she whispers into your jaw. "I would keep you like this if I could, hanging, breathless. I've never seen you want me so bad."
You whine. "Caleb..."
"Shhh." She leans down to kiss you again. Every kiss is less clumsy than the last, but still a crashing wave of so much beyond the surface.
"You're too good to be tortured... I swear, I just want to savour you... is that okay, pretty girl?"
Your eyes shut and you nod. She's different. Not by much, but you like it. Even if she's wrapping you around her finger.
"I'm going to take your shirt off... I want to see you."
The shirt peels off before you can speak. You look at her as she takes you in. "So perfect..." She grips the shirt, balled in her hands. "This shirt used to be mine... were you wearing it when you came last night, pips?"
Your eyes shut and you're blushing hard as you bob your head in confirmation. She presses it to her face and breathes it in. She's snapped out of self control, and you get wetter as it happens.
She presses the shirt to her face again and breathes in like it’s a drug, like she could drown in it.
“Oh fuck,” she whispers, muffled against the fabric. “I shouldn’t like this as much as I do.”
You can’t tell if she’s talking to you or herself. You wonder if she’s going to keep it. Hide it somewhere. Sleep with it under her pillow when she leaves again.
Then she looks back down at you, shirt still in her hands. Her voice is hoarse. "I’ll never stop thinking about that. You, wearing me while you—” She shakes her head.
“Saying my name like you did... You knew I’d find out, didn’t you? You wanted me to know.”
You shake your head, breath caught, but your thighs squeeze together involuntarily. Her eyes go there.
“You little liar,” she murmurs, and there’s no malice in it. Just tender, yet filthy, worship. You’re in disbelief.
"You're ready for me to open those pretty legs? Show me what you have for me?"
Good god, she's making you dizzy. Your legs open, light shining between them. Your pink panties are soaked. You can feel it.
"You and these lacy things... I've taken care of 'em for you, n now they're soaked because of me? You'll drive me crazy... I don't even have to touch you there, it's wet, I can see... you must be aching, pips aren't you?"
She kisses down your stomach, slow and hungry, like she’s trying to memorize the shape of you. You twitch when her lips graze just below your navel.
Your breath catches. Her hair brushes your inner thighs.
Then she stops. Rests her cheek against your hip bone. Eyes closed.
“Do you know how many times I thought about this?” she says, almost absently. “You, begging me. Your pretty thighs shaking. My name in your mouth and nothing to brace you but my hands.”
You whimper. Your hips arch, but she presses her palm flat on your pelvis. Not yet.
“I used to touch myself sometimes when I was alone in the cockpit, you know, at the base too, in that lonely fucking bed.” she murmurs, almost like she’s confessing a sin. “Quiet, careful... Thinking about you laying in my old bed, in this fucking shirt. Sucking your fingers because you missed me.”
You let out a sound you can’t name. It breaks in your throat. Mostly because you know she's not wrong.
“Shhh, shhh, I know,” she says, eyes finally open again, wide and wild. “Me too. It’s too much, isn’t it?”
Her fingers hook into the waistband of your panties.
“I’m gonna see you now. I’ll be good. I’ll be gentle. But I’m gonna look, and you’re not gonna hide.”
The fabric drags down slow—wet, clinging to your lips—and you swear she moans under her breath as it leaves your skin. She keeps them around your knees, not even bothering to take them off fully. Her fingers ghost down the inside of your thigh like a prayer. You twitch. She watches you, (always watching) then her eyes swallow you.
"S-so pretty..." she whispers, and you feel small and wet and pulsing.
"Please..."
"You're so good to me, poor thing... I'm gonna make it all better, mkay? You just gotta tell me, do you want my hands or my mouth? I can't promise it'll be perfect, I've saved everything for you... but I'll keep going until it feels like heaven, you've just gotta ride it out with me. You're brave, you can use your words..."
She brushes over your panties just once with two fingers and gasps out a moan at the same time as you. Your hips buck into it, you feel so desperate.
"Oh my god... is that for me, princess?"
"Yes," you rasp out. It's been for days, she had yet to claim it.
"Careful, you can't take that back..."
Your lips are pressed together, your legs are shaking. The waiting is torturous despite her earlier promise not to. You eyes lock onto hers. You can feel the look on your face, and you know it's pathetic, she doesn't have to tell you. But you beg, again, just like always.
"Caleb..."
Her moan is more of a whimper when you pull her name from your mouth like that.
"Please... I can't—"
She looks at you, blue, dashed by the lights. She looks so pretty, so strong, so wild and just for you, that you can hardly take it.
"My hands or my mouth? I can't until you choose, I know it's hard to think like this—I can't choose for you..."
You try to speak but only breath comes out. You reach for her wrist, try to guide her—but she stops you again.
“Say it,” she murmurs. “I need to hear you pick.”
“...Your mouth,” you whisper, the words so fragile it’s like breaking a spell.
Her eyes widen. “You sure?”
You nod, and this time she doesn’t ask again.
She kisses your jaw, then all the way down your body, from your neck to your belly. Wet, sloppy, greedy kisses.
The stripes of blue light shift across your thighs, her shoulders. She kisses down your stomach in slanted shadows, each press of her lips a new stroke across your skin. You swear the sunlight is holding you both down. Your breath shudders, hips and fingers twitch.
Her breath is warm and damp when she descends to the space between your legs, lying on her belly, propped up by her forearms. Her left hand slides to your hip to press you down, the other reaches to hold your hand.
"If I get too lost and you need me to stop, grip your nails into my hand as hard as you can, okay? I can't guarantee anything else is gonna pull me away from you once I start."
You blink. You don't want to have to hurt her.
As if reading your mind, she squeezes your hand. "I'm a strong girl, pipsqueak, you won't hurt me."
Her head hangs just above your core, and you swear you feel her shake.
“You smell like you’ve been waiting for me your whole life,” she whispers. Then her lips part, and she presses the softest kiss to your clit—like it’s sacred.
You cry out without meaning to. Her hands tighten—one at your hip, the other still interlocked with yours.
“Shhh, I’ve got you, baby,” she breathes against you. “I’ve got you now. I’ll never let anyone else see you like this. I swear on everything.”
Her lips finally descend, and it’s like a gasp gets pulled out of your soul.
Her mouth moves slowly, lovingly, and it’s unbearable how gentle she starts. Licking like she’s trying to write something inside of you. Like she wants to live there.
☆☆☆☆☆
It’s slow, so slow. She licks like she’s testing the temperature of a flame. Your thighs jerk. You moan.
“That’s it, sweet girl,” she murmurs, eyes flicking up. “You don’t even know how good you taste. I could stay here forever.”
You can’t answer. You can only clutch the sheets. The light paints her shoulder blades in ribbons. Her hair brushes your thighs like silk. You forget what day it is. What year it is. You could drown in the feeling of her.
You try to hold on—to what, you’re not sure. Your breath, your sanity, some last shred of yourself before she completely takes it.
The Caleb you're used to is patient. This Caleb is not. She's slow but taking, she kisses you like time doesn’t exist. Like this was what clocks were built for.
She doesn’t say anything for a while. Just breathes, licks, worships. And when her lips wrap around you—when her tongue flicks like she’s spelling her name—you cry out again. You think you feel your heartbeat in your throat, your toes, your scalp.
Her grip on your hand tightens.
“You’re so sweet,” she murmurs between licks, “and so loud… You never used to be this loud. Is this who you are with me now? Do I get to keep her?”
Your hips arch up, but her arm locks you down.
“I knew it,” she groans, almost in disbelief. “You were made for me.”
You pant her name. You’re unraveling. She moans into you.
Your legs begin to shake. She doesn’t stop. Won’t. Not until you say her name again.
“Caleb—Caleb—” you sob, voice gone thin. “I—”
Her eyes snap up. The obsession in them is glassy and you want it, you want it so bad it swallows you.
“That’s right, baby. Let me hear it.”
She suckles you, slowly, then deeper. Her nose presses against your skin. Her hand leaves yours just long enough to reach between your thighs, and when she pushes a finger in, slow but sudden. You jolt like you’ve been struck by lightning.
You cry out her name again, and she laughs, shaky and low and broken.
“Oh my god. That’s it. That’s what I needed. You saying my name like that. You… taking me like this.”
She kisses your thigh. Adds a second finger. Your body’s unspooled thread.
“You’ve got no idea what I’ve saved up for you,” she whispers. “What I’d do to make you cum for me. I’d—”
She falters. Her head drops back down. She licks again.
You’re not going to last. You can feel it.
And she can, too.
“Don’t hold it,” she pleads, almost angry. “You don’t have to hide anything from me. I need it. Let me feel you fall apart. Let me have it.”
You reach for her wrist again. This time she lets you. Holds you. Fingers buried deep, tongue gentle, too gentle—
But only for a moment.
Then her rhythm changes. Becomes purposeful. Consuming. Curling. Her teeth graze you and you scream.
She groans like she’s the one climaxing.
☆☆☆☆☆
The light splits around you.
There’s too much of her—mouth, fingers, breath, voice, Caleb Caleb Caleb—you can’t hold it anymore.
You try to say her name. It comes out as something else. A sob. A vow. A confession.
There’s a second where you don’t know who’s holding who.
The sound of your name is still ringing in her mouth.
Your thighs are trembling. Her hands won’t let go.
She’s still between your legs, forehead pressed to your thigh, like she’s praying.
Her fingers haven’t moved. Neither have you.
“I’m still here,” she murmurs.
Your eyes are prickled with tears. Hers are too, her fingers move out of you with the lewdest wet sound, a near-pop.
"God, Caleb... Where did you learn how to do that?"
She doesn’t answer right away.
Just breathes against your thigh, her fingers sticky where they rest against your hip, her mouth swollen, her chest rising with something wild.
Then:
“I didn’t,” she says. Her voice sounds dazed. Wrecked. “I just thought about it. Constantly.”
She kisses your leg. Another. Slower.
“I thought about what it would sound like,” she murmurs, voice trembling now. “How soft you'd be. How sweet you'd taste. What you’d look like when you came for me. I just… paid attention.”
Your chest heaves. You can feel the flutter of her breath between your thighs still, and her fingers are twitching like she’s resisting the urge to go again.
“I didn’t even know I’d be good at it,” she adds, finally lifting her head. Her face is pink. Her eyes are glassy. “I just knew I’d never forgive myself if I got it wrong.”
You can barely breathe.
“You didn’t,” you whisper.
Caleb stares at you, like your praise is too much, another wave she’s about to drown under.
“I want to stay here,” she says, softly. “I want to stay inside of this. I want to sleep in the sound of you falling apart.”
You reach for her face. Thumb brushing her cheekbone, fingers tracing the side of her damp jaw.
“You can,” you whisper. “For as long as you want.”
She laughs—quiet, breathless, half-collapsed against your thigh like she’s resting there. Her voice is hoarse when she speaks again.
“I... saved it all for you.”
The words fall like a confession. Her breath is still warm on your skin. You feel raw and kissed open and so full of her you think you'll burst. She sucks her fingers clean.
“Don’t look at me like that,” you whisper, flushed, trembling.
She just hums, fingers slipping free of her mouth. “Like what?”
“Like you’re still starving.”
She shifts, pulls herself up and forward, crawling until she’s kneeling between your legs, until her face is level with yours again. Her expression is unreadable for a second, wild, tender, broken, but still soft.
Then she says, “I am.”
You don’t know what to do with it, so you reach for her. Her arms wrap around you immediately, strong and warm, and she holds you like she thinks you might disappear. Your breath shudders against her neck.
Neither of you speaks for a while. There’s no sound but the birds outside. The slow drip of her breath. The whisper of her fingers stroking your body under the blankets. You don’t know how much time passes. Minutes, maybe. A whole hour.
You don’t move.
Until, “Pipsqueak?”
You tilt your head, eyes still closed. “Mhm?”
“You’re shaking.”
“I know.”
“Are you cold?”
“No.”
She adjusts you, presses herself tighter to your chest, like she could shield you with her ribs. Like she could rebuild the entire world with her body to keep you inside it.
Then, “Was it too much?”
You blink. “No. God. No.”
She kisses your hair.
“I didn’t mean to…” she starts, but trails off.
You pull back enough to look at her. Her face is open, bare in the pale light. Her lips are swollen. Her eyes are red.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asks.
The question is so quiet it nearly breaks you.
You reach up, cup her cheek.
“No,” you whisper. “You did something right.”
Her eyes flutter shut under your touch, like she’s in pain. Or relief. Or both.
Then she opens them again.
“You said my name like it meant something new,” she says. “You don’t know what that did to me.”
Your throat tightens.
“I think I do.”
She leans in again—this kiss is softer, quieter. Just a brush. A thank-you. A promise. Her hands never leave your waist.
Her eyes close. Her lashes flutter against your hand.
“I’m scared,” she says, finally. “It’s too much. It’s always been too much with you.”
You nod. Your throat is tight.
“I know,” you say. “Me too.”
When she finally lays her head on your chest, it feels like your whole world exhales.
She’s trembling again.
You bury your fingers in her hair. Her breath steadies. Then slows.
You think she’s asleep until she murmurs—
“I’m not done with you.”
You blink.
“Not today,” she clarifies. “Not ever. You understand?”
"Is that a promise?"
She doesn't reply right away. Her arms wrap tighter. You kiss her head.
In your arms, she feels small and like the whole world at the same time. A dream within a dream. The galaxy within a girl. Your undoing and the person you know best.
Her face is damp on top of you, she trembles a little.
"Caleb? Are you crying?"
She nods. Doesn't move.
She mumbles into you.
"Now that I've had you like this, I will be lost if I can't come back to you. Everything I've ever done was holding the fact that I would need to come back around to you. There's no other way now. I really will never be able to return to anything else."
Again, you're crying with her.
You wonder where she gets all of this doubt from, all this fear. You can still feel her all over, inside of you.
The light has moved. Shadows stretch differently now. You think it must be past two, maybe three.
"Remember when I was a kid, what you would do during storms when the power went out? I wouldn't move, I was so afraid of the dark... I'd cry and cry but I was scared to call for you. So you’d run around the house yelling 'lighthouse, lighthouse! Mei mei lost at sea!' with a flashlight in your hands. Until you'd find me. Or until I was brave enough to follow the sound of your voice or the light beams."
She laughs raspy, breathy, and small, "Yeah. Of course I remember... Why would you bring that up now?"
"I think... I'm brave enough. Brave enough to look for you now. If you can't make it to me on your own, I'll clear the path." You lift her face and she looks at you tear-stained and awestruck. "Even though lighthouses don't move." You mock, a smile blooming on both your faces, giggles erupting. A break in the seriousness. A pearl inside the shell of time.
“I’ll be good,” she whispers. “I’ll be normal. I’ll try.”
You laugh, breathless. “Don’t. I like you like this.”
She blinks, then smiles, hiding her face inside of your chest.
⁀➴☕︎ | one night stand with Rafayel who can't take a hint
Somewhere between too many sangrias, a lot of dirty dancing and groping, you'd ended up in the back of a cab with Rafayel, eating each other's faces off and barely toeing the line between propriety and public indecency.
Rafayel is so lost in the softness of your lips, the heavenly moans that escape you and only beckon him closer that he doesn't even realize he's handed the driver a hundred instead of a twenty, asking him to keep the change as he carries you into your building.
"What's your name?" You manage between kisses as the railing of the staircase digs into your back while he bends you over it, teething at your throat while his thigh rubs between your legs.
You can feel his smile against your skin as he hikes you up higher on his thigh, licking the skin he'd just broken in "Didn't your parents warn you about strangers?"
"Didn't your parents warn you about serial killers?" You shoot back and it's gratifying to make a man as beautiful as he was to laugh as pretty as he did.
"Let's just say-" He's whispering right above your lips as his luminescent eyes search yours "I have no self preservation. Especially not against a woman as beautiful as you"
You both stumble through the door, hands tearing at his jacket and your coat as he drives you up the wood, holding your weight against the surface as his tongue plunges into your mouth again.
The bedroom is preferable but the couch is closer and you both try to make a fair attempt to reach it except Rafayel's already got two fingers breaching the waistband of your panties, teasing your soaking folds as you pant into his mouth "Right there?"
You nod, a whimper lodged in the back of your throat as he plunges the fingers into your waiting warmth, groaning when he feels just how wet you are for him. Curving his fingers, he's pumping them against that sweet spot that makes you moan, your head banging into the door behind you.
When he's made you cum so hard that you're still recovering from the aftermath, he's leaving kisses against your skin, rubbing his thigh between your legs again, breaking a whine out of you from how sensitive you were "Uh oh" He whispers, pulling your dress low enough to free your breasts, covering one with his mouth "Stranger danger"
Despite yourself, you laugh but it dies a short death when he pulls at your nipple making you moan, wrapping your legs tighter around his trim waist and lining yourself directly with his very prominent erection. He groans, biting down on your areola making you squeal as he pulls you away from the door and carries you to the couch.
For a man who looked so pretty and delicate, he was surprisingly strong and freakishly well-endowed if what you felt between your legs as you grind against him was any indication. And when Rafayel pushes your skirt up, lining himself behind you, you're suddenly apprehensive about how he'll make it fit.
"You're here to kill me after all" He groans as your walls flutter around his length to accommodate his size, screaming into the pillow as you arch your back to take him even better.
One moment you remember him thrusting into you so hard the couch is moving and screeching against the wood, the next you're in your bed with your knees folded till your chest as he moves above you, cooing at you as tears escape your eyes at the overstimulation. He's licking the tearstreaks, grunting right next to your ear as your walls squeeze and tighten around him with every drawn out thrust.
"I've got you" He's nodding, forehead pressed to yours as your mouth hangs agape while you chase that peak, tears free flowing while he brushes against that spongey spot with every thrust, his pelvis rubbing against your clit in the most perfect way "I've got you, pretty. Why don't you let go for me, hm?"
You're nodding too, broken whimpers escaping as your legs quake uncontrollably before you're gushing around him. Rafayel's right behind you, growling into your skin as his thrusts grow more desperate, fucking relentlessly into your swollen pussy and pumping you full of his cum.
Last thing you remember is kissing this gorgeous stranger who had eyes that sparkled so beautiful in the moonlight streaming through the windows.
"You're even more beautiful in daylight"
Nodding, you're picking up the clothes strewn on the floor, tossing the ones that belonged to him at his relaxed figure still lounging in your bed.
You'd woken up and made love to this man in bed before the sun had come up and then again in the shower just now but while you looked like anymore action would require you to get an IV drip, not only did this man have the stamina of a God, his skin glowed like it too? What the hell was his skincare routine?
"I'm Rafayel" He goes on and you shoot him a non-plussed look over your shoulder because of course a man who looked like that and fucked like he did couldn't be named something regular like Bob or Peter. Rafayel. He was such a Rafayel.
You know he's waiting for your name but you have no interest in giving it to him. Yesterday had been a celebration and while you were brazen enough to sleep with strangers and not truly commit, you weren't in the business of hoarding the strangers for long-term relationships.
Instead, you disappear into your closet to pick out your work clothes. You had to swing by the office before an important work lunch in the afternoon and if you successfully closed the deal, last night's celebration would not be in vain.
When you step out, Rafayel has thankfully taken the hint and gotten dressed too. He follows your cue and exits the bedroom behind you, still doing his best to get you to acknowledge his existence. Or help him be privy to yours.
Picking up his jacket that was still lying by the door, you hand it to him and open the door. Your declaration despite not using any words is crystal clear. Rafayel would love nothing more than take you out for breakfast, bring you home and do a full repeat of last night but you want to set clear boundaries of remaining strangers and he wants to respect that.
Or atleast try to.
He steps out but he's still in the doorway, preventing you from closing the door completely as he stares at you for a moment too long, gaze dropping to your lips before he's looking at you again "I don't even know your name"
"It's not worth remembering" You step back, hoping he will too but he's still got that kicked puppy look in his eyes that almost- almost melts your resolve.
"I'll remember it" He promises "Want to make you forget it next time we do this. Probably have you scream mine"
He's gonna wear you down at this rate and you know it. So you put that final nail in the coffin "Goodbye, Rafayel"
When you close the door behind you, you wonder if you should've at least told him you'd had a good time. Great time, even. Okay, you weren't kidding anyone. He'd shown you the most spectacular time and you'd wanted nothing more than to do it again too.
As you checked your day's to-do, you realized you didn't really have the time to.
Rafayel sent flowers to your apartment before you even left that morning. How he managed to do that in the span of the twenty minutes it had taken between you throwing him out and leaving for work, you didn't know. Still, he was an observant man too, if he had managed to deduce from the incense burning in your apartment that your favorite flowers were orchids.
As an art curator, you'd had your fair share of bizarre interactions. This definitely ranked in the top 3.
The flowers are still on your mind when you reach the restaurant where you're having your lunch meeting. Your friend's husband, Thomas, had wanted to introduce you to someone he'd described as simply phenomenal. For someone always looking for new talent, you'd easily agreed.
Your brows furrowed and lips lifted in a sardonic smile when you noticed the name on the card he'd given you. Rafayel. It was as if you simply couldn't escape that name today.
Or him, when the waitress showed you to the table where he was already seated next to Thomas, looking refined in his three piece suit and smiling at what you're sure he found to be a pleasant turn of events.
⁀➴☕︎ | one night stand with Rafayel who can't take a hint
Somewhere between too many sangrias, a lot of dirty dancing and groping, you'd ended up in the back of a cab with Rafayel, eating each other's faces off and barely toeing the line between propriety and public indecency.
Rafayel is so lost in the softness of your lips, the heavenly moans that escape you and only beckon him closer that he doesn't even realize he's handed the driver a hundred instead of a twenty, asking him to keep the change as he carries you into your building.
"What's your name?" You manage between kisses as the railing of the staircase digs into your back while he bends you over it, teething at your throat while his thigh rubs between your legs.
You can feel his smile against your skin as he hikes you up higher on his thigh, licking the skin he'd just broken in "Didn't your parents warn you about strangers?"
"Didn't your parents warn you about serial killers?" You shoot back and it's gratifying to make a man as beautiful as he was to laugh as pretty as he did.
"Let's just say-" He's whispering right above your lips as his luminescent eyes search yours "I have no self preservation. Especially not against a woman as beautiful as you"
You both stumble through the door, hands tearing at his jacket and your coat as he drives you up the wood, holding your weight against the surface as his tongue plunges into your mouth again.
The bedroom is preferable but the couch is closer and you both try to make a fair attempt to reach it except Rafayel's already got two fingers breaching the waistband of your panties, teasing your soaking folds as you pant into his mouth "Right there?"
You nod, a whimper lodged in the back of your throat as he plunges the fingers into your waiting warmth, groaning when he feels just how wet you are for him. Curving his fingers, he's pumping them against that sweet spot that makes you moan, your head banging into the door behind you.
When he's made you cum so hard that you're still recovering from the aftermath, he's leaving kisses against your skin, rubbing his thigh between your legs again, breaking a whine out of you from how sensitive you were "Uh oh" He whispers, pulling your dress low enough to free your breasts, covering one with his mouth "Stranger danger"
Despite yourself, you laugh but it dies a short death when he pulls at your nipple making you moan, wrapping your legs tighter around his trim waist and lining yourself directly with his very prominent erection. He groans, biting down on your areola making you squeal as he pulls you away from the door and carries you to the couch.
For a man who looked so pretty and delicate, he was surprisingly strong and freakishly well-endowed if what you felt between your legs as you grind against him was any indication. And when Rafayel pushes your skirt up, lining himself behind you, you're suddenly apprehensive about how he'll make it fit.
"You're here to kill me after all" He groans as your walls flutter around his length to accommodate his size, screaming into the pillow as you arch your back to take him even better.
One moment you remember him thrusting into you so hard the couch is moving and screeching against the wood, the next you're in your bed with your knees folded till your chest as he moves above you, cooing at you as tears escape your eyes at the overstimulation. He's licking the tearstreaks, grunting right next to your ear as your walls squeeze and tighten around him with every drawn out thrust.
"I've got you" He's nodding, forehead pressed to yours as your mouth hangs agape while you chase that peak, tears free flowing while he brushes against that spongey spot with every thrust, his pelvis rubbing against your clit in the most perfect way "I've got you, pretty. Why don't you let go for me, hm?"
You're nodding too, broken whimpers escaping as your legs quake uncontrollably before you're gushing around him. Rafayel's right behind you, growling into your skin as his thrusts grow more desperate, fucking relentlessly into your swollen pussy and pumping you full of his cum.
Last thing you remember is kissing this gorgeous stranger who had eyes that sparkled so beautiful in the moonlight streaming through the windows.
"You're even more beautiful in daylight"
Nodding, you're picking up the clothes strewn on the floor, tossing the ones that belonged to him at his relaxed figure still lounging in your bed.
You'd woken up and made love to this man in bed before the sun had come up and then again in the shower just now but while you looked like anymore action would require you to get an IV drip, not only did this man have the stamina of a God, his skin glowed like it too? What the hell was his skincare routine?
"I'm Rafayel" He goes on and you shoot him a non-plussed look over your shoulder because of course a man who looked like that and fucked like he did couldn't be named something regular like Bob or Peter. Rafayel. He was such a Rafayel.
You know he's waiting for your name but you have no interest in giving it to him. Yesterday had been a celebration and while you were brazen enough to sleep with strangers and not truly commit, you weren't in the business of hoarding the strangers for long-term relationships.
Instead, you disappear into your closet to pick out your work clothes. You had to swing by the office before an important work lunch in the afternoon and if you successfully closed the deal, last night's celebration would not be in vain.
When you step out, Rafayel has thankfully taken the hint and gotten dressed too. He follows your cue and exits the bedroom behind you, still doing his best to get you to acknowledge his existence. Or help him be privy to yours.
Picking up his jacket that was still lying by the door, you hand it to him and open the door. Your declaration despite not using any words is crystal clear. Rafayel would love nothing more than take you out for breakfast, bring you home and do a full repeat of last night but you want to set clear boundaries of remaining strangers and he wants to respect that.
Or atleast try to.
He steps out but he's still in the doorway, preventing you from closing the door completely as he stares at you for a moment too long, gaze dropping to your lips before he's looking at you again "I don't even know your name"
"It's not worth remembering" You step back, hoping he will too but he's still got that kicked puppy look in his eyes that almost- almost melts your resolve.
"I'll remember it" He promises "Want to make you forget it next time we do this. Probably have you scream mine"
He's gonna wear you down at this rate and you know it. So you put that final nail in the coffin "Goodbye, Rafayel"
When you close the door behind you, you wonder if you should've at least told him you'd had a good time. Great time, even. Okay, you weren't kidding anyone. He'd shown you the most spectacular time and you'd wanted nothing more than to do it again too.
As you checked your day's to-do, you realized you didn't really have the time to.
Rafayel sent flowers to your apartment before you even left that morning. How he managed to do that in the span of the twenty minutes it had taken between you throwing him out and leaving for work, you didn't know. Still, he was an observant man too, if he had managed to deduce from the incense burning in your apartment that your favorite flowers were orchids.
As an art curator, you'd had your fair share of bizarre interactions. This definitely ranked in the top 3.
The flowers are still on your mind when you reach the restaurant where you're having your lunch meeting. Your friend's husband, Thomas, had wanted to introduce you to someone he'd described as simply phenomenal. For someone always looking for new talent, you'd easily agreed.
Your brows furrowed and lips lifted in a sardonic smile when you noticed the name on the card he'd given you. Rafayel. It was as if you simply couldn't escape that name today.
Or him, when the waitress showed you to the table where he was already seated next to Thomas, looking refined in his three piece suit and smiling at what you're sure he found to be a pleasant turn of events.
Caleb hasn't seen you in a year - and he's come to the inevitable fact that his feelings for you can never come to anything. He moves on in his own way, as a top fan who becomes very close with a mysterious OF star. You could say Caleb is torn, between his long love for you and the hoplessness of it, and the growing feelings for a girl behind the screen. Yet on a trip back home, you have quite the fucking secret career, and you're even more torn. A crush on Zayne, a secret love for Caleb, and a budding interest in your top fan - Aviator69.
pairings - yandere! Caleb x secret OF star! reader (also a lil zayne x reader!)
warnings- angst, mistaken identity, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, love triangles in a way, camgirl reader, yan Caleb, eventual smut, slow burn, stepcest elements, this chap - masturbation, sexting, sexual tension, emotional hurt, jealousy, and some yummy Dr Zayne, mentions of cum and a hell of a breed kink. WC - 6.2k
credits here and here for the beautiful art!
I'm so nervous and excited to start my second Caleb series! i've been just DYING to write him, so I hope you all will enjoy this one!!! Chap two will be very soon hehe as I'm looking forward to write more of my yearning psycho <3 - tags open.
chap one
Caleb has always loved you – but he's known forever just how off limits you are.
Always in love with your other childhood friend Zayne, yet you both were the childhood best friends who simply can't be more.
He didn't really move on, no, you couldn’t call it that – but he eventually had to take care of himself, had to jerk his cock watching girls who looked like you – taking cock on cam or spreading their pussy wide.
It almost felt like cheating when he jerked it to them – which was laughable, considering you weren’t his, you could never be his. You – happy your senior year of college, and he had already graduated aviation school. A pilot out of town, he never saw you anymore, and your notes, texts, and calls got just a bit shorter.
The last night he hugged you in his arms and kissed your cheek fucking wreck him, but even Caleb needs a little bit to jerk off to, the hopeless situation that would remain that- hopeless.
It's what brought him here, to this pretty girl with this gorgeous body on onlyfans, she's got a mask on her face and a bright pink room, giggly and sweet. She bends over and plays with her cunt with the rose toy he bought her, moaning his name in this way that he could almost imagine was you.
How would you sound if you moaned?
It's been months since he started watching this pretty girl's streams though, and he found himself utterly lost. He felt terrible, wanting her when you exist, but her tits and how she toys with them, her blush that spreads across her chest, her thighs spreading just for him alone?
You could say Caleb becomes obsessed.
"You have to go for two weeks?" –
She asks as he types, her fingers still slick with her cum, the sheer amount she had squirted made him fucking thirsty, imagining lapping those juices off her thighs.
Caleb has kissed girls, he's fingered them and pleased them, he does enjoy another woman’s pleasure but he's just never been able to fully cross that line - even when he’s turning twenty-four next week. But he would – with her – he couldn't help but imagine finally sinking his cock inside that tiny hole, the one that looked so perfect when she spread it wide for his private sessions.
It doesn't make him love you less - it's just he's faced the inevitable fact that there would never be a chance you two were together.
Imagine Josephine if she ever knew Caleb loved you? When she'd damn near raised you two together. No, you weren't actually related, you two didn’t even share the same last name, but the ties ran too deep. You were too comfy with him, laying in his bed as he counted air planes till you drifted off, snuggling on his lap and looking at the stars.
He types now to the OF star he spends most of his limited free time with, after cleaning off his white coated cock with one hand and moaning softly, it’s sensitive as he hasn’t had time to barely do anything with grueling training for a new position.
Aviator69- Yeah, I gotta go for a bit to visit my hometown.
She sighs, leaning forward a bit, her lips smooching the webcam, he can’t help but smile just a bit – something about her fucking gets him. Is it the fact that she reminds him of you? Your build, your height? Is it the fact that she’s not interested in him as a relationship like everyone else?
"I'll miss you, Aviator69."
He snorts at her, it was insane that she didn't know his actual name, but then again - neither did he.
Hopeless obsession, isn't that what Caleb is known for?
It’s nothing like the obsession with his pips – his sweet best friend since childhood who he’d kill for, die for, fuck he’d do anything when it came to you – but it was nice to have her to talk to, even if she’s never heard his voice. She has outright asked to see his body curiously, so he’s shown her his cock, but even that felt so wrong, wasn’t it for you?
But as he scrolls through your IG and sees you at a dinner with none other than Zayne and all your friends, he has to remember that hope is dashed.
You’ve moved on with him only visiting twice a year.
I’ll be around a bit, maybe. – he tips her an insane amount, she’s blushing again across her chest, her collarbones, thanking him all sweetly.
“I’ll be a bit busy too with family, but if I’m on I’ll make sure to send you a message, have fun!”
You too, honey.
Before he hits send he deletes that – it’s what he calls you frequently, along with Pipsqueak or Pips to torture you, instead just sending a little smiley face and closing the laptop. Just a bit of his white cum coats his fingers, he sucks a bit of it off, humming to himself, wishing he could breed you with it instead of the utter waste it was, but that was just that.
A wish, a hopeless one.
Your text hits his phone right after he’s done packing, he can’t stop the dopey grin from hitting his face, no matter how much he enjoys the pretty OF star, he can’t help but love you just as much. Every day he falls deeper, no matter the time away – a million memories flooding his mind at your very existence.
Pips - Caleb! I’m so excited to see you this week, you better bring your trunks because we are so going to the beach!
His lips twitch up a bit at that.
Caleb - Why, Pips, so I can see you dog paddling like a little drowned rat?
Pips - Rude! I’ve become a much better swimmer, thank you!!! I have been getting lessons.
Caleb’s jaw sets, teeth clicking together.
Lessons from fucking who!?
Who got to see his-
What even were you to him? His childhood friend, his ‘step sister’? What right did he have to feel this fucking way about you, even as he tries his best to move on from it, to live his life and let you enjoy yours, the jealousy fucking eats at him. Another man seeing you in your bikini, touching your waist, teaching you to swim when it should be Caleb.
Caleb - I’ll see if you improved, you never took well to my lessons.
Pips - hah! Yes you will.
*****
You start packing your room up for the vacation, heart hammering in your chest just a bit too much – sometimes it’s hard to separate your reality from your online persona. Especially when it came to the mysterious Aviator69 fan – lord knows you’ll always have something for pilots, that love for Caleb hasn’t died off in the years of barely seeing him.
Yet it’s unhealthy, that love for him – the obsessive, jealous way you used to feel when you were younger, seeing girls all over him, seeing the way everyone just loved him. Who blamed anyone? There was everything to love about Caleb – your best friend in the world, the most important person there was.
Yet when you were a teenager, everything shifted, what was once fun or silly became too intimate, and since he was just a few years older, his actions became more and more ‘affectionate and brotherly’. Patting your head like you were some puppy, pulling away from a hug that’s too tight.
It was one of the reasons you decided to start an OF in the first place – you played with your pussy so much thinking of him, you might as well get paid for it.
You made so much at this point you got a brand new car, you helped Josephine – ‘gran’ as you all called her – pay off some of the debt she was in, you played it as if you had a killer internship. No one has questioned you, who would, really? You’re every bit the epitome of a ‘good girl’. Good student, sweet best friend, devoted to each and every person you care about.
There’s just one outlier – an obsession with the one man off limits.
Of all the fucking people to fall for, the boy raised as damn near ‘family’ was unnacceptable, and you’re sure he’s never felt it back. Those brief moments where you could swear there was something, that there was a tension between you both, now as you pack your luggage they just seem like they were all in your head.
‘I’ll miss you so much,’ you’d hugged Caleb tightly the last time he went away, he was training as a pilot outside of the military, something entirely different. You were so proud, but also you knew he’d be by even less frequently.
Some selfish part of you wanted him to stay.
‘I’ll miss you, honey,’ the way he’d said it had melted your precious resolve almost a year ago today, he’d tilted your chin up, pressing a kiss on your brow, cool and dry lips that he never took good enough care of, that he bit to death.
All Caleb ever did was take care of you, of Gran, of all his friends and his colleagues – the question was, who took care of Caleb? Would he ever let you?
‘Will you really miss me?’ He laughed at first – that easygoing one of his that brightened his face, that made him look so boyish.
Why didn’t he smile enough?
‘Why would ya ask that, hmm? Ya messin’ with me?’ he teased you, one of your hands had slid up his chest, brushing the stark white pilot jacket, your tears filling your eyes, making his face soften. ‘Pips, I’ll not be gone forever.’
‘Close enough,’ you trembled when he hugged you tight.
It wasn’t enough.
The hugs weren’t enough, the pecks on your cheek weren’t enough – not when your body wanted, needed and craved more. You leaned up, kissed his cheek, kissed the corner of his mouth. Collar tugged down in your hands to yank him low – tall as he fucking was, bringing him to hunch over so that your lips hovered.
‘What are you…’ he had paused, cupping your face, his breaths mingling with yours together – the sweet scent of apple on his breath – yet he pulled away, kissing the corner of your mouth instead.
You gave up that day.
‘I’ll write to you every day, I promise. I never, ever break them, do I?’
No, Caleb never broke his promises – he never crossed lines he shouldn’t, and you should respect that. No, you do respect that he’s level headed, that he has ultimate control, while you’re a shattered mess, trying to pick up the pieces of the inevitable fact – that it could never be.
You can’t get this mysterious man off your damn mind now, but it almost feels like a bit of a betrayal. Not only do you have this secret life, the feelings for Caleb haven’t died out – and now you’ve been talking to Zayne, he’s almost a doctor and just a few years older than you, in med school. He’s two years older than Caleb, in fact.
Mature, handsome, driven.
Yet he was also sweet, and he wanted to see you – he had known you for years as well, but you were more of a little pest to him than a childhood friend. Now, things were utterly different.
Would the very ‘seemingly’ uptight Zayne ever be okay with your ‘career’ though? The fact that you make more money in one night streaming on OF than you did in two weeks at your part time college job? Would he be okay you had a pretty pink jewel up your damn ass a couple hours ago, or used a pink rose toy for fucking Aviator69?
You feel torn into three pieces – the hopeless love for Caleb, the intrigue for the boy you’ve been typing for months but never really seen or heard, and a childhood crush come to life for Zayne.
Just how was this week going to go?
+++++
Caleb was back home.
This was the home he spent his teenage years in – the main one he knew, despite being about eleven when Josephine took him in, he hadn’t exactly remembered much of his childhood, nor much of his life before you and Gran. He didn’t want to, and neither had you when he’d met you – the day she brought you into his life.
He’ll never forget meeting you, holding your hand and smiling, you were so shy and sweet then, to eventually form into a little brat who punched his shoulders and teased him. Caleb knows it was the comfort of him that helped blossom that in you, so he loved it even more.
The nights he’d spend holding you when you had nightmares, though? Sometimes he wondered just what your life was exactly like before Josephine took you in, but that was something the two of you had never really discussed. You didn’t even have to, it was as if you both just…
Got each other.
The plane ride was a long one, but he was used to it – though he forgot how odd it was to be a passenger rather than a pilot. The air was just a touch thicker and humid, he could practically inhale the hints of salt from the coast, when he’d recently been in the desert. The house looked the same, it’s only been less than a year, but everything was exactly in its place.
When he walks into the door to his teenage bedroom, he can’t help but be hit with a wave of nostalgia.
Nothing had changed – not a single thing aside from Gran had picked it up a bit, and his bed was made, the duvet the same dark blue he'd picked out in high school. The walls were still covered in aviation posters – his favorite, f-16s, a diagram of a fighter jet engine next to that. His model planes decorated the bookshelves, just a bit dusty from time, with pictures of you and him on the top shelf.
You’re so young there, it was your high school graduation, he had just come back from getting grueling military training. He looks so drained, but you looked so bright and beautiful, but then again when the fuck weren’t you?
His fingertips run across the frame, sighing and frowning a bit at the walls just a light shade of orange, as if the room was frozen in time, with the locket you’ve given him sitting on one of the articulated models.
He has a new one from you now, that one broke and faded – he’ll never forget how upset you were, even after he welded it the little red gem popped out.
He’d gotten it replicated exactly, but how could he get rid of the original? So it stayed locked in time. He wraps it around his fist, the silver chain circling his rough knuckles, Caleb presses a little kiss to it, a little ritual he had with the one on his neck recently before he went on any flight.
He peeks out the window when he hears the hum of an expensive SUV, curiously looking out to see you walk out of it alone.
That SUV is not in a college girl’s budget, Caleb had more than enough to buy one for you, but you’d always turned it down. Suddenly curious how the fuck you have a brand new black Escalade, he heads out of the room, you’re already hugging Josephine when he steps into the living room, your eyes catching his over her shoulder.
"Caleb!" you squeal those words excitedly, running out of Josephine’s embrace and launching yourself at him.
He catches you automatically, as if it’s an instinct to do so – it is a fucking instinct – its a torture as his arms wrap around your waist. It was supposed to be familiar, comforting, sweet and nostalgic, right?
Yet it was torture instead.
Your hips are a little wider, your tits just a bit softer somehow against his chest, he hates himself for fucking thinking that. All this time away, of jerking his cock to another girl, of going on dates and kissing women, having them cum on his fingers, it did nothing to stop the sickness he felt near you.
It was everything not to lift you by those hips that would feel so goddamn good in his hands and fuck you right on a wall – but he’s supposed to fucking greet you. He’s supposed to be that supportive best friend, so he hugs you tighter, laughing as if he’s unaffected with the way you press against him, burying his face in your hair, smelling your shampoo.
It was the same as always – this sweet mix of peonies and blossoms that were made to ruin him, with hints of something uniquely you, some pheromone set out to make him ache. He forces himself to relax, to make it normal, his gran is there for godsake and he’s about to fucking sniff you.
"Hah – easy, Pips, you’re crushin’ me."
You pull back a bit, blush dancing on your cheeks. "Sorry, I got so excited! It’s been so long.”
“I’ll make you two some tea,” Josephine says with a smile, heading to the kitchen and leaving the two of you alone by the entry way, he pulls back a bit, taking in your outfit.
It’s slutty.
Your tits are out, your skirt is too fucking short, as if this is not the girl who used to wear sweats everywhere. He supposes he should assume you’d change, why wouldn’t you? Yet the thought of anyone seeing that body makes him furious – a body he’s barely seen with how baggy and slouchy your clothes used to be.
“New style?” He asks softly, you giggle and tug a bit at the top.
“Yeah, I guess I’ve gotten into fashion,” you’ve had to dress a little sexier with OF promotion, but you did find yourself liking it, a pleated skirt and a little crop, jacket slung right over. “Do you like it?”
“Ah… do I like it…” He says nothing, his sunset eyes drifting across your collarbone, bare now, the little locket he’d bought you broke and you have it now attached to a little keychain. Suddenly it feels empty, naked, without it, especially when you see his dogtags clearly on his chest.
Caleb says nothing, just looking into your eyes now, the tension as your hands still sit on his broad shoulders making you tremble.
You’re an OF star now – you play with your pussy for thousands of people, you have your damn tits out and make bank. Why then, does it make you so fucking nervous to have someone this close to you look at you this way?
It also makes you wonder – would Caleb ever be okay with that? Would he beat your ass black and blue and delete that damn page? You cannot see your strict, overprotective best friend accepting it. Of course, you wouldn’t tell him, but it makes you curious.
Did Caleb ever watch OF?
Did he date anyone now?
Has he…
Why are you thinking of that? Why can’t you just enjoy the time you have with him – the limited fucking time?
“You don’t have to answer that,” you say now, suddenly shy – you, shy, it’s laughable. Yet Caleb does that to you – the way he looks at you could fucking ruin you completely.
“It’s just a different look,” he manages, clearing his throat, you notice a few new freckles dusting across the bridge of his nose, now, making you bite down on your lower lip. “You always look pretty. Just different.”
“Well look at you! All grown up and official," you playfully tug at the collar of his pilot's uniform he'd worn home – white and gold, you almost can’t handle just how fucking good he looks in it.
"Well look at you – new ride?"
Your expression falters for just a second, a flicker of something he couldn't read before you plaster on a bright smile. You suck at lying, and at hiding shit from him. "Oh, the SUV? Just a little graduation present to myself. Been saving up for years! I got a really good payment plan.”
You paid for that shit in cash – OF was very kind to you.
He hums a bit at that, he knew what you'd made at your part-time campus job, and there was no fucking way you'd saved up that much, he knows your wages. Caleb knows everywhere you go, too.
He sure the fuck shouldn’t but how can he not want to make sure the most important person in the world to him was safe at all times? That just happened to involve all of that – knowing when to ‘surprise’ send you money, when to randomly call you if you’re somewhere he doesn’t know.
A quick search with his connections are all it takes for him to find out what house you were in and who it belonged to.
You’ve spent entirely too much time with Zayne lately.
Zayne was stupidly wealthy – what if he bought that shit for you?
He immediately shoved the thought away, disgusted with himself for even thinking of them, that you couldn’t do it on your own, that you’d need something like that, he puts it all away and then smiles at you instead, ruffling your hair affectionately. This was you – His Pips.
“I’d have bought you it, you know.”
“You can’t go around buying escalades, Caleb,” you poke at his cheek playfully, he catches your wrist with his long ass fingers, taking you over and making you pause, your heart hammering in your chest.
“I would for you.”
You blush once more, sighing now. "There is this huge bonfire at the cove to start the summer," you say, grabbing your luggage, he takes it from you so quickly you giggle a bit. "Everyone's meeting there in an hour. Are you coming with me?"
"Yeah, of course,” he follows you up the stairs, his gaze lingering on the way your skirt rises up on your thighs, he can fucking see those panties with little apples decorating them.
Were you actively trying to kill him?
He needs to jerk off the moment he is alone, but you’re lingering a bit at the door, smiling up at him in this way that makes him wonder how you’d look on your knees, lashes lowered, hearts in your eyes. Would you suck his cock down like a good girl – would you do it too good, and make him wonder where you learned it?
Fuck.
“I’ll go get ready,” he says, rushing off and making you frown, looking at him a bit before shutting your door, leaning on it and shutting your eyes.
Caleb seemed annoyed, short with you, clipped. Perhaps he had moved on, and perhaps that was the best thing – that you imagined the tension, the embarrassment of trying to kiss him for him to shut it down, that it was all in your head. Zayne texts you, asking if you’re coming, and you focus your energy there, shooting him a quick heart and an enthusiastic yes!
Your phone keeps going off, the OF men miss you of course – you decide you can sneak a quick faceless picture of your tits, hanging up the little pink curtain you always do to hide anything personal. It seems drastic, but you have a lot of friends from your hometown, and you’d die of embarrassment if they ever found out.
You set the camera down on your dresser, leaning forward to get a pretty angle of your tits, and the comments and tips start going insane, you suddenly see a name you thought you wouldn’t though –
Aviator69.
You laugh softly seeing it, tilting your head and laying back in your bed after getting dressed, typing directly to him in messages.
You - I thought you’d be gone.
Aviator69 - yeah well, I had to peek at this notification, see your pretty tits.
Suddenly you heat up – Aviator69 has always been oddly respectful, to a point you wish he wasn’t, and now he finally mentioned something like that? You can’t stop yourself from saying more, your apple covered panties soaked and darkening – damp and sticky with need.
You almost feel guilty enjoying him this much, you aren’t dating Zayne, and Caleb is the most off limits boy there could be, but you still felt jumbled as you were slick. You can’t help but write to him again, though.
You - miss me already? Did you miss seeing my titties?
Avaiator69 - maybe I do. Your nipples look like they need to be sucked on, do they?
You - maybe they do need a mouth on them.
You don’t even know what he looks like but you can’t help but let your mind drift, though when your eyes close – it’s Caleb, his mouth wrapping a nipple, and you know you shouldn’t think of it. You know you have to stop it, stop playing with your cunt thinking of the boy in your next room, the one you’ll never have, the one who probably never thinks of you like this.
Yet your eyes flutter shut, and you’re toying with your breast, thumbing the nipple and gasping out, looking as he types to you.
Aviator69 - they’d look so pretty with cum on them.
Oh fuck.
Was Aviator69 a freak!? He surprises you then, you hear the craziest shit as a cam girl, as an OF star, but nothing has made you actually wet quite like this comment.
You - would you lick it off?
Caleb moans softly, muffled with one of his hands as the other strokes his thick, veiny cock – the head is flushed a mean red and dripping, leaking down to the carpet below. Sucking in a breath through his teeth, Caleb’s rough hand makes him merely ache for another – a soft little hand that can’t even wrap his base, watching it and laughing at the size difference.
Wondering if he’d cum all over this OF star’s pretty tits, or yours – god they were just about the same size he thinks, he hardly has seen glimpses of yours aside from when you were in a bikini, and they’ve only gotten prettier in the year he hasn’t seen you. He can’t think of you.
He can’t.
Would he lick it off is a fucking insane question, though, he can’t help but whimper, literally typing with one hand while he should be getting ready.
Aviator69 - I think I’d rather gather it up and push it inside your pretty little pussy.
Your fingers circle your clit faster, damn near slippery as this mysterious fan puts those images in your head, you hardly type with one shaky hand as your thighs clench together.
You - oh? Are your fingers long, aviator?
Aviator69 - bet they’d hit your cervix.
You drop the phone when you cum, when you shatter, pulsing and making a fucking mess, dripping right down your sheets, dizzy with how much he’d had you cumming, tears pricking your eyes you’re so dizzy. Hit your cervix – hit your cervix, he really went and fucking said that? He had to have the most filthy images of long fingers pushing white inside you.
You’re struggling to gather yourself after that, seeing texts from your friends wondering if you’re on the way, realizing you haven’t gotten ready at all – and that Caleb is in that next room. What if he heard you!?
Get it together!
You - I have to go, Aviator.
Aviator69 - did you get to cum?
He’s cocky, it’s surprising, you can’t help but giggle, breathless.
You - maybe I did. Did you?
Caleb’s cock is coated in white cum to the base, his head thrown back against his old headboard, looking up for a moment to see a picture of you in your cute little cheer outfit on his mirror, suddenly torn.
Why does he feel so guilty for a girl who could never be his?
He cleans up, clearing his throat and tipping his favorite star two hundred dollars as her answer. She types him quickly.
You shouldn’t have! It was just… fun for me?
It’s still your time, and your work.
Then don’t be a stranger this vacation.
He cleans up quickly, his head rushing, he’d cum just enough that when he sees you, standing right in your doorway and peeking at you in your room, so fucking pretty – he can almost handle it.
Almost.
You smile at him, in this little sundress, tied up at the neck to reveal the expanse of your back in a haphazard knot, looking at him in the mirror now. “Caleb, can you tie this a little better, my hands can’t reach.”
“Always so spoiled with me, tch,” you giggle when he comes over, undoing the knot. “It’s terrible.”
“I know!” they fall, the little halter straps, you hold onto the top of the dress so it doesn’t fall, smiling nervously at his reflection. “Do you like the dress?”
“You look beautiful,” his voice is too husky then, as he ties the prettiest, perfect bow, swallowing and running the backs of his fingers down between your shoulder blades before he can stop himself, eyes catching your reflection in the mirror. “Don’t you always?”
“You think so, Caleb?” He laughs softly, shaking his head.
What a fucking question.
He supposes he must hide that shit exceptionally well, taking your hair and brushing it back, baring those shoulders he wants to decorate with kisses, with bites, with bruises. You turn and he sees that cleavage, the tits he’d also love to cum right all over, rising and falling with your breaths as he stands too close, your hands sliding up his soft open shirt, the one underneath moulded to his physique.
“You’ve just gotten buffer, you jerk,” you tease, as if you don’t want to feel his weight upon you. “I haven’t worked out much since I quit cheer.”
“Your body is-” He pauses himself then.
He can’t fucking say that.
That he wants to grip your hips and breed you – that he wants to have those tits bouncing in his face, that he’d love to fuck you in your sleep, when you wake up, every fucking moment just bend you over a surface until you’re good and knocked up from him, then you’d have to stay his forever, wouldn’t you?
No amount of jerking it to a pretty girl could fix this sickness in his fucking head, clearly, so instead he stays there, a hand on your waist, the nip of it where it juts in, squeezing so hard over the thin material you gasp. Your eyes lock up to his, your lips parted ever so slightly, those eyes dilated until they’re almost black.
“My body, what?” You ask softly, voice shaking, trying to hold yourself together as he causes you to heat up.
“It’s…” Your phone goes off now, breaking the spell he’d been under, he steps back and eyes you. “Gonna get that?”
“It’s just everyone asking where we are,” you clear your throat now, shoving it all back in. “What were you going to say?”
“It’s… your body is…”
You just look at him.
He’d just told a girl on the internet he pays for that she had pretty tits, that he wanted to push cum inside her, but he can’t tell you what he wants to – no, because it’s too fucking filthy.
“It’s perfect,” he manages, you blush and look down, hugging him around his waist and burying your face against his chest.
“Thank you, Caleb.”
“Mhm, let’s go.”
*****
You let Caleb drive your suv since he hates you driving – you apparently terrify the shit out of him because you don’t know what curbs are. He doesn’t seem to realize that you literally could hit any curb in this giant fucking thing and it’s like nothing now, but you don’t mind being in the passenger seat, giggling as the two of you try to catch up a bit.
Yet the air feels thick with everything unspoken.
You resented him for turning down your kiss and you feel bad that you did, you have to let it go and enjoy the person you love more than anything in the world. You just have to love him the way you should, not in this twisted way you’ve grown to think of him.
When the two of you are at the party, and he’s surrounded by so many damn girls it’s hilarious, he looks at you as if you could help him out, you just laugh a bit, gasping when a cool hand touches the small of your back. You peek back to see Zayne, the soon to be doctor but currently an intern physician, smiling lazily at you.
He looks unfairly gorgeous with the setting sun, casting a million lights of pink and orange against his tanned skin, his soft little laugh when you press a kiss to his cheek. “Doctor Zayne!”
“Already calling me that, hmm?” The bonfire is crackling, making his green eyes glow just a bit with orange flames, his face card is stupidly lethal and makes your heart race just being close.
“You will be soon enough, might as well start,” you lean close now. “Role play a bit, I could be your bratty patient.”
“You’re bold, hmm?” He’s blushing a bit, laughing then, tilting his head a bit. “Why don’t we get a drink?”
“I’d love to,” he heads over to the cooler and grabs you both a drink, opening yours politely, eyes drifting over your dress.
“You look stunning,” he says quietly, you feel the flicker of his gaze dart over your form, taking in his own attire, a dress shirt just a bit unbuttoned, the most casual Zayne really got. “That color is pretty on your skin.”
“Why thank you Doctor Zayne, you look handsome too,” he laughs a bit, sipping his drink, eyeing the swarm of women around Caleb. “Ah, your stepbrother is back home, huh?”
Stepbrother.
It makes you feel so fucking weird to hear him called that – it wasn’t an official term, but you suppose it’s how they perceived you all. It made you feel that much more guilty, for catching Caleb’s eyes across the crowd, across the flames that flick meanly into the sky, the smoke that scatters across, the sun glowing behind him.
Caleb can’t stand to see Zayne’s hand on your waist – right where his had just been, the possessiveness he has no right to feel running through him, until it’s making his stomach sick. He watches from across the bonfire as Zayne leans in close to whisper something in your ear, making you laugh, your head tilting back as if it’s so fucking funny – exposing that delicate neck Caleb wants to mark.
His eyes flicker to his phone, on the off chance that the OF star may be on, texting her for just a moment amidst the girls talking his ear off for the past ten minutes, smiling easily as he tries to focus on anything but rushing right across the goddamn beach and snatching you up.
Hopelessly torn between moving on from the inevitable fact that he’ll never have you, and feeling guilty for wanting to talk to her again.
“Excuse me,” he murmurs to the girl there, smiling brightly. “I need a drink. Want me to grab you one?”
“Yes please!” She’s giggling along with everyone, when Caleb makes a beeline toward you, the closer he gets the angrier, the more he wants to rip Zayne’s goddamn fingers off your waist.
Zayne notices him approaching first, his easy smile clinical, making Caleb want to lose his fuckign shit even more. "Caleb, joining us? Long time no see."
"Just needed another drink," Caleb says smoothly, though his eyes are locked on your face, how your eyes are dilated, glittering in the night. "Are you having fun, pips?”
“I am, are you? You should catch up with Zayne, too,” you say, looking at him now. “Caleb is leaving the military and doing other projects. And Zayne, he’s-”
“I’ll catch you both later,” he smiles and walks by with two drinks, leaving you to look at him curiously, as he dismisses you completely.
Oh.
“He’s as friendly as ever,” Zayne makes you laugh a bit, hand holding out for your own. “Want to dance a bit?”
“You dance?” You ask, tugging him out, each of your bare feet dancing across the warm sand, feeling Caleb’s gaze on you as he spins you around.
“I do.”
Caleb peeks at his phone again.
No answer from her.
And he has to look at his pips in the arm of Zayne.
He’s going to fucking hate this vacation – he may just cut it short.
~Winner of the poll! I wanted something quick to write and somehow my brain felt this was the right thing to add... yeah sure girl I shoulda known from the start y’all would want this lol
~Contains all love interests with a female reader
Warning, this post contains: Smut, please read with caution! Pussy eatin, dick suckin, fingering, p in v sex, you know the drill
Xavier
A stupid bet, one you should have never made.
You should have thought about it before letting it leave your lips but you didn’t… dammit!
Your nails dug deep, threading through white-blonde locks of hair and yanking hard. If you couldn’t get Xavier to make a sound through pleasure… maybe you could through pain.
The man anchored between your parted thighs didn’t budge, not even a hitch in his breathing as you nearly pulled a fistful of hair out of his head. No, Xavier was in his own universe, tongue prodding at your soaking entrance.
“First to make a sound loses!”
“And what does the winner get?”
“The freedom to do whatever they want to the other.”
Stupid, stupid, stupid! Making such a bet with your already quiet lover, it was like you wanted to fail. Xavier’s nose bumped your puffy clit and you saw stars, your teeth brutally biting down on your lip to swallow any whines.
You were slowly slipping into panic, body and brain sending mixed signals as Xavier ate your pussy as if it were his last meal. You couldn’t even begin to fathom what your lover would want to do if you lost…
Warm hands kept your thighs spread, moving up and down the length of skin in a soothing manner. The additional sensation making your skin break out in goosebumps as sinful lips wrapped around your throbbing clit.
“X-avier…” you choked, not quite a moan or whimper, but enough for blue eyes to lock with yours. The sight alone had you gritting your teeth, he was too much.
“S’too much! Too intense!” If you didn’t snap your mouth shut a moment later you were positive you’d spill. Xavier only huffed out a laugh, the sensation warming your cunt. He was going to play dirty, so dirty. His lips suctioned just as he slid two fingers into your sopping cunt.
You couldn’t help it, not when his fingers curled right into that sweet spot. Your entire body tensed, head falling back against the pillows as a guttural moan fell past your swollen bitten lips. Your release covered his chin, his fingers, and his tongue eagerly licked you clean.
Xavier had won.
Rafayel
He really thought he could pull one over on you.
I mean really, Rafayel thought he had a chance at winning against you in a bet you had made? Big mistake.
"Whoever makes a sound loses..."
He had been so smug, too smug, and now his knuckles were white as he fisted his silk sheets so hard they were groaning under the force.
You were on your knees putting on a damn show, mouth stuffed with his cock and your watery eyes peering up at him as if he hung every single star in the sky just for you. "C-cutie..." a stutter, one that forced him to seal his lips again in fear of losing.
You only hummed, the sound vibrating his entire length as you dared to swallow around him. He had trained you too god damn well, you could deep throat him without gagging now. Something you had both eagerly worked to achieve together over the months.
Though, Rafayel was starting to regret the training, if he could just get you to gag around his cock, he'd win. But even as his hips stuttered up into the tight heat of your mouth, you didn't budge.
Your jaw relaxed, tongue flattening on the underside of his cock as you let him fuck your face with flushed cheeks.
All it would take is one look, and you knew your lover would crumble. The second his head tilted back, jaw clenched and eyes shut, you knew you were on the verge of winning. Your hands splayed over his thighs, nails scratching at his skin until his entire body was shaking from the sensation.
Your cheeks hollowed out, suctioning to him as you drew back and pressed his hips down. Your focus turned to his tip, dark and leaking, begging for release.
Your tongue swirled, coating in the salty precum that dribbled out, and you had to swallow a moan before you forgot where you were and what was at stake. Winning the bet was seconds away, you just needed to…
“F-fuck I’m cumming!”
A higher pitched cry left Rafayel’s lips, his cum shooting down your throat as his hips stuttered into your mouth.
You had won the bet.
Zayne
You’d bury your face in the pillow if you could.
But Zayne had other plans, determined to not let you pull a fast one to win this silly little bet. Really, you thought you could stay quiet while he fucked you senseless? Adorable.
“C’mon sweetheart, I know you’ve got it in you…” his hips were brutal as they slammed into your cunt, you were positive you’d have bruises left on the back of your thighs at this rate. Tears swam across your vision, Zayne’s hand holding a fistful of your hair to keep you from hiding.
You had managed to swallow your noises for three orgasms. Fat tears leaking down your cheeks and blood dribbling down your chin from how hard you bit your lip. Zayne had kissed it all away, smug about it too.
“C’mon, give me a pretty moan, you know you wanna.” And god did you, you wanted to be his good girl. But you also craved the feeling of victory. “My pretty baby, be good for me and make some noise…” he was evil.
All you could do was bite down harder, she’s shutting as you used every ounce of will power to hold onto sanity. He was fucking you within an inch of your life, cock kissing your cervix with every deep, devastating thrust.
“N-no!” You swallowed the whine, the lingering shakiness as your breasts bounced with each connect. Zayne only smirked, lips soft against your ear as he ran his fingers down your stomach. “You’re so wet.”
You clenched your teeth as he pulled you so your back was flush to his front, fingers rubbing skillfully at your swollen clit. “So sensitive because I made you cum so many times, right? You want me to touch her gently?” Just to rub harder, your body shaking, hips jerking wildly as if you could move fast enough to keep his fingers off.
“Don’t run from me, sweetheart.”
You were done for, so utterly screwed. You couldn’t help it, not when your fourth orgasm had you gushing around his cock. Never mind a moan, you screamed as you came.
Zayne won, a smug smile on his lips because of it.
Sylus
He’d never turn down a bet.
Sylus was certain he’d win. Like always, he took any and every challenge head on with a smug smirk on his lips. But… this? Oh this may be his toughest challenge yet.
Your cunt was sinful, softer than the finest silks, warm and wet and so snug. His eyes could cross just from entering you, the look on your face enough to make him blow his load just from slipping inside. “Shit, baby.”
His voice was somehow steady, his fingers gripping the pillow beside your head. The other was holding your waist, keeping you steady as he bottomed out.
“Sylus…so big…” determination was still shining in your eyes, making his heart swell. You wanted to win this stupid little bet as badly as he did.
“First to make a sound loses, deal?”
“Deal.”
Neither of you made a sound yet, but the swollen lips and flushed cheeks told you how hard it was to keep in. Still, Sylus drew his hips back half way before pushing in again. Simultaneously, your eyes squeezed shut. Bodies tense as you tried to keep your noises back.
Thrust after thrust, Sylus settled into a steady rhythm. Your legs hugging his hips every time he thrusted, keeping him close despite the overwhelming pleasure making you want to run away. “Sylus… I’m gonna…” he had barely began fucking you and you were going to cum.
“Then cum, let me f-feel you.” His cock was twitching, each brutal slam of his hips threatening to send him spiraling over the edge and emptying into you. “O-only if you make a noise, pretty.” But you shook your head, arms wrapping around his neck and yanking him down.
The force of your lips colliding was enough to punch a moan out of both of you. Orgasms crashing down almost instantaneously. You couldn’t even care, the pleasure vibrating through your veins enough to make you forget the silly challenge until you pulled away from him.
“Guess we both lost.”
Caleb
Why on earth would he ever take this bet?
To appease you of course. To see your sweet face twisted with victory when he inevitably cried like a baby because your pussy was just that damn good. "Whoever makes a sound first loses, winner gets to do whatever they want to the other, no limits."
Oh yeah, that sounded like the type of bet he would beg to lose. But, for you, he'd at least attempt to swallow his groans for a bit. Make it somewhat fun for you as he folds you in half and pounds you into the mattress like a dog in a rut. "Fuck, you're so hot, pips!"
You knew Caleb well enough to know that he was barely trying, the whiny lit to his voice was a dead giveaway. But if it meant he fucked you like he was trying to get you pregnant? You could live with it.
Your mouth was hanging open, only ragged breathing slipping past. Every moan and whimper swallowed before it could climb its way up your throat. One clench and you knew Caleb would crumble. So, to tease him, you held off. You wanted to see him sweat.
"Ya gonna cum for me, big boy? Fill me up?" It was slight, barely a squeeze, but enough that Caleb's eyes widened.
"Y-yes, fuck. You'll let me cum inside, right? Please?" There it was, the walls crumbling, he was so close to whimpering. "Yes, baby. You can cum inside of me, fill my cunt up so you're always with me." Dirty, embarrassingly filthy, but the open moan groan that rumbled Caleb's chest as he came made it so utterly worth it.
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