reader who thinks they yap too much and stops talking mid-convo because they think they’re bothering the li’s
— a yapper who gets told to be quiet too often
𑣲 — yapping with the LIs <3
tags: fluff, a bit of hurt/comfort, yapper reader ofc, sometimes reader is just going on long angry rants, OOC SYLUS! oops AND rafayel, not too much else :P
a/n: I'M FINALLY GETTING BACK TO REQUESTS?!! yes, i am. AND IM TRYING MY BEST! cut me some slack 🫰
wc: ~ 500 each boy
Caleb
Your mouth was moving faster than your brain could catch up. You couldn't help it. You always got like this when you were around Caleb.
"Oh my gosh. And guess what?"
"What?" he hummed, back turned to you as he made dinner.
"When I was sitting there, I felt something on my hand, so I looked, right?"
Caleb nodded. "Right."
"And it was a cute little ladybug!"
Caleb made another sound, shoulders flexing as he stirred the pan slightly. "No way. Did you take a picture?"
"I did! Let me show you!" you grinned, already pulling your phone out. And then another though hit you. The cute brown leaf you found in the shape of heart. How could you possibly forget that?
"Oh, and another thing!"
You heard him laugh. "What's this other thing?"
You swiped through your camera roll, mouth opening to tell him all about it, but then you paused. Your thumb stilled over your screen.
You watched him for a second before you felt a felt an uncomfortable tug in your chest.
You were talking too much, weren't you?
Your eyes flicked over Caleb again, who was now moving something with his spatula.
Yeah, you were definitely talking too much.
Who cared about ladybugs or that cute heart-shaped leaves you found on the sidewalk earlier? It was such an irrelevant part of your day and you just wouldn't—
You pressed your lips together, phone going slack in your grip.
You should've stopped at the part where you mentioned that "older couple with the cute Dachshuns at the park" four minutes ago.
"Um, nothing, actually," you finally murmured, swiping out of your camera roll and scrolling through socials instead, decidedly done talking.
The silence stretched for a few seconds before Caleb looked over his shoulder, brows furrowed. "Nothing? Hellloo?? Did you get distracted again?" he asked. "I wanna know what your other thing was."
You didn't look up. Just shook your head. "It was really nothing."
"It was not 'nothing'," Caleb countered, flicking off the heat and turning around to face you fully, arms crossed. "Tell me what it was, Pips."
Your gaze flicked up. Barely. "Seriously, it's fine. It wasn't that important—"
"It's important to me," Caleb interrupted, taking a step toward the kitchen island where you were sitting. "I wanna know about your day." He took another step, his hands coming up on the edge of the marble now.
"Every single part of it. No matter how small." He paused, letting the words sink in. Then, more firmly, "So, tell me. What was that other thing? I won't finish cooking dinner until you spill."
You sighed. He was impossible. "C'mon. I honestly forgot."
"No, you c'mon." He reached out, poking your cheek. "I know you didn't forget."
You sighed. "Caleb—"
Before you could finish your sentence, your phone was floating out of your grip. Your eyes widened, trying to snatch your phone back, but it was too late. It was already in his waiting hand and of course, he knew your password.
"Mm'nope." He started scrolling through your phone, trying to find your camera roll. "And you never even showed me your ladybug. So, let's seee…"
"Caleb!" You lunged over the bar, aiming for your phone, but he held it just out of reach.
"Nuh-uh. You're gonna tell me every little thing while I look for this ladybug."
Zayne
Your schedule rarely lined up with Zayne's. It was a given; you were a hunter, he was a heart surgeon. It wasn't exactly easy to find free time together.
But on the rare occasion that you did, you spent the night at his, talking over take-out from that little place around the corner.
"—and she was telling me not go, but I was already there, so like, whatever," you mumbled around a mouthful of food. "I mean, how could I not go? People could've gotten hurt if I didn't intervene."
You still had a full box of food in your lap when Zayne stood up, and crossed the room to toss his plastic box in the trash.
The simple scene made you pause.
It made you realize that you'd barely touched your food, too busy talking. You hadn't even really noticed until Zayne stood up.
Zayne hummed in response to your story, slowly making his way back to you, sleeves rolled up to his arms, tie loose around his neck, eyes heavy with the exhaustion of the day.
He was tired.
He was tired and here you were, talking his ear off about your day.
You let out a small breath as he settled back in front of you.
"So… yeah." You quietly picked at your plate. "How was your day?"
Zayne blinked, brows giving the smallest twitch. "You… stopped."
You hesitated. Yes, you did, because if you didn't, you might never stop. It was both a blessing and a curse. But right now, you were leaning toward the latter.
"You usually have more to share," Zayne added, eyeing you carefully.
Your cheeks burned.
So, he noticed too, then—the way you talked too much. Or a lot—depended on who you asked.
The thought made something twist in your chest.
You glanced down at your food bowl, lips pressing into a thin line. "Not today. I wanna know about your day now."
That wasn't a lie. It just… wasn't exactly the full truth either.
Zayne was silent for a moment, eyes narrowed, as if he was thinking. Then, with a shake of his head, he murmured, "I'd prefer to hear about your day."
You sighed. He was too nice sometimes.
"I've been talking for like, 30 minutes." You frowned at your own reminder. "Plus, I'm done."
Zayne let out a soft breath. "I know that's not true."
"Zayne… You just came back from a long day of work. I don't want to—" You trailed off, watching as Zayne grabbed your hand and brought it up to his lips.
"Your voice calms me," he murmured, breath warm against your knuckles. "Listening to you talk isn't a burden. So, please keep going."
Sylus
The city life blurred past your window as Sylus drove the crowded streets, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh.
You were mid-story about something that probably wasn’t nearly as dramatic as you were making it out to be, gesturing wildly in the seat next to him.
His eyes occasionally flicked over, that signature smirk playing on his lips.
"So, I told her—"
Bzzt, bzzt!
A phone. Not yours.
Bzzt, bzzt!
Sylus frowned, glancing down at his screen. He sighed, something in his jaw ticking as he grudgingly drew his hand away from your thigh. "I have to take this, sweetie. Hold that thought, though."
You nodded, your gaze drifting back toward the window as he answered. You sat there listening to his voice and the low hum of the radio. And for a second, you were fine. You kept repeating the details of your story in your head so you wouldn't forget them when he got off the phone.
And then, you caught a glimpse of the time on the radio.
Crap.
Had you been talking that long?
Heat crawled up your neck.
He didn't even know half the people in your story. So, why were you still—?
You slumped slightly, propping your elbow on the armrest and resting your cheek in your palm.
After a minute, Sylus hung up and placed his phone in a small pocket in the center console. "Alright." He glanced over at you. "Sorry for the interruption. What were you saying, kitten?"
You barely looked at him. "What? Oh, um, I forgot."
Sylus raised a brow, hand finding your leg again. "You forgot? That's hard to believe." His eyes flicked back to the road, then to you, then back again. "You're lying," he stated, so matter of factly your cheeks flushed.
"Am not."
"Did the interruption sour your mood?" he questioned. "Should I have my phone on do not disturb from now on?"
You quickly sat upright. "No, no. I understand business—you had to take that call, I just—" You sighed. "I talk a lot."
Sylus laughed then. A low, rumbly laugh. "Don't be ridiculous." Before you could say anything, he continued, "You don't talk enough."
"What—? Sylus, I just talked for five minutes straight."
Sylus smiled fondly. "I don't think you understand, sweetie." He turned the car, pulling into an empty street before shifting it into park. He turned to you now, fully. "Your voice is the sweetest sound. I could listen to it forever."
You swallowed thickly as he leaned over the console, lips a hairsbreadth from yours. He looked at you, then slowly, he leaned in. His hand came up to cradle your head, holding you against him.
After a moment, he pulled back, smirking at the awed little look on your face. "Now, keep talking," he murmured. "I'm eager to know what you told this so-called 'Clara'."
Xavier
"She was so rude!" you ranted, fingers moving furiously over your keyboard. Xavier sat across from you at his desk, also typing. Definitely not as frantically as you though.
"Like, there's literal wanderers in the area? I'm sorry you've been waiting in line for an hour, but you have to leave."
You were supposed to be filing a report of what happened that evening on the field, but that stranger kept bursting into your thoughts. Because how the hell did someone have the audacity to get mad at you for trying to keep them safe?!
She could've died and she was busy throwing a fit over…—God, you didn't even remember what she was in line for anymore.
"I saved her!" you suddenly blurted. "And I tried to be nice—you know that, right?—That I'm nice?" You didn't give him a chance to respond. "But she was being so unreasonable! All 'no, I need to stay in line for my…' whatever the hell. Like, ma'am. You might die if you stay."
Xavier snorted, the sound finally making you look up. His eyes met yours briefly before they went back to his screen.
Shit.
How long have you been going on for? Way too long. That's for sure. You pressed your lips into a straight line, your uniform suddenly too tight. You typed slower.
"Anyway… that… yeah."
But Xavier looked up again, pausing. "That yeah? Why'd you stop?"
You kept your attention on your report. "What do you mean?"
"I want to hear what else she did." He waited a moment, leaning over so he could really look at you. "Well, I just want to hear you keep talking."
You frowned slightly. "That was the whole story." A lie. But it's fine. It was for his sake. And any other people in the office might've heard you. "Besides, I was being kinda… loud. And mean."
Xavier smiled fondly. "You're pretty when you're angry though."
Your eyes widened. "Xavier."
"It's true," he murmured, "You're pretty all the time. But when you're angry, it's a different type of pretty."
Your throat bobbed softly. "But weren't you like… annoyed at all? How long was I even ranting for?"
Xavier shrugged, his eyes flicking behind you toward someone walking by before going back to you. "I don't think you could ever annoy me. I want to keep listening to you." He shifted, his foot pressing against yours under the table. "Keep talking. Please?"
You stared, a small smile breaking cross your face. He wanted to keep listening. Like, actually wanted to hear you talk just for the sake of it.
"If anyone asks, I'm just helping with your report."
Rafayel
You were heated.
Or—okay, maybe heated was the wrong word—but you were definitely bothered. Why? One of your favorite shows was ruined. It was like the directors said "fuck it" and moved on.
You were animated, explaining to Rafayel bit by bit how it could've been better if the producers had ended it literally any other way.
"I just—" you sighed, sinking into his couch. "I don't get it. What made them think ending it like that would've been good?"
Rafayel sat in the center of the room, perched on a stool, a canvas in front of him. He peeked over the painting, brows pinched, like your frustration was his own. "Honestly."
You frowned at him. "You haven't even watched the show."
"No. But if you think it's dumb, then it definitely is. Simple."
Your lips twitched upward slightly. Just slightly. You were still on a rant though, mouth moving again as you told him what choices could've been made better, as if you had any directing experience whatsoever.
"And it got so repetitive! It just used the same tropes over and over, and—oh my god. You know what?" You leaned forward, looking at the back of the canvas as if you could see Rafayel through it. "We should watch it together. I want to hear alll your thoughts."
"Ugh. Watching a show that you've explicitly trashed on for ten straight minutes? No, thanks." His hand flicked over the panel. "I don't want my brain to rot."
You paused, blinking. Ten minutes? Is that how long you've been talking? No way.
You bit your lip, sinking back into the couch again.
After a stretch of silence, Rafayel suddenly looked over the canvas at you. "Did I say something wrong? Or—Don't tell me that's where the show ends." He pursed his lips into a light frown. "If that's it, it really is a crappy show," he huffed.
You tried smiling, but your mind was already reeling. Ten minutes, he said. Ten, uninterrupted minutes of you just complaining.
"Yep," you huffed. "That's where it ends. Pretty lame, huh."
"Very lame." He hums, stepping back from his canvas. "I hope you keep watching shitty shows though."
Your brows pinch together. "..Huh?"
Wordlessly, he gestured you over. So, you stood up from the couch and stepped over to him. You froze instantly. It was you. He was painting you, mid motion—hand up in a gesture that said "duh", mouth open (probably shit-talking), legs curled underneath you on his couch.
"You were painting me."
"Really? What made you think that? Was it the big painting of you on the canvas or…?"
You rolled your eyes. "So.. you liked my rant?"
Rafayel let out a soft breath. "Liked it? Look at it," he said, gesturing toward the canvas again. "You get so intense when you're talking, I can't help but get inspired."
He smiled at you before leaning in pressing a quick peck to your temple. "I like listening to you get passionate, even when it's about something you hate."
⤷ ゛Caleb feeds you an ice cream bar to help with the heat. He should’ve known how easily your mouth turns him on.
────୨ৎ────
XAVIER Ი𐑼
𑣲 half your sky (sfw)(fluff)
⤷ ゛you’re burned out and xavier feels helpless, unable to bring back your spark. fortunately he finds an article on the benefits of skin-to-skin contact; he’d try anything if it meant having you back.
Caleb feeds you an ice cream bar to help with the heat. He should’ve known how easily your mouth turns him on.
“Hurry up, Caleb.” you whine, hands running down his strong arms in desperation, fingertips pressing into the warm muscle as if that might somehow make him move faster.
The afternoon is suffocating, sticky heat that glues your shirt to the small of your back and makes every breath feel heavy. You’re straddling Caleb’s lap, thighs bracketing his hips, chin tilted in a small pout as you wait for him to unwrap the coconut ice cream you’ve been craving the whole day.
He lets out an amused chuckle at your impatient expression, the sound vibrating through your chest. The flush on your cheeks only seems to make him find you more devastatingly cute.
“Shh, be patient you silly girl.” he murmurs, voice all velvet as he peels the foil excruciatingly slow.
You let out another pitiful whine, squirming just enough to make him suck in a quiet breath. Finally, he lifts the pale, frost-kissed bar to your lips.
You don’t even wait for permission, the moment the cold tip touches your mouth you close your lips around it, sucking hard with a relieved moan that you can’t stop. The creamy coconut melts instantly on your tongue, sweet and perfect. You don’t even care that you look pathetic savouring the cool feeling like a starved person.
Caleb’s grip tightens on your waist. You don’t miss the way his breath hitches and his thighs flex beneath you, but right now the ice cream is the only thing you care about. You hollow your cheeks, chasing every drop, completely shameless.
“Pips, slow down. You’re gonna choke.” he rasps, voice weaker than normal.
You open your eyes only halfway, heavy-lidded and a little glassy from the cold. You look up at him with your lips still stretched wide around the bar, cheeks puffed, and a thin trail of melted cream already threatening to drip down your chin.
The view that greets you back is Caleb’s blown pupils, accompanied by his Adam's apple sliding in a hard swallow. The hand that isn’t holding the stick drifts up to catch the bead of white cream at the corner of your mouth, thumb dragging it back across your lower lip, smearing it like gloss.
You don’t dare pull away, instead letting the tip of your tongue flick out, tracing the pad of his thumb in a slow, deliberate drag before sucking it too, eyes never leaving his.
Caleb exhales through his nose, a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan.
“You’re mean. You know that, right?” he mutters, a flush in his face that can’t be excused by the heat.
You hum around his thumb, the vibration traveling straight down his pants.
You slide your mouth off the ice cream with a wet little pop, letting your tongue swirl around the tip one last time before you speak, voice small and sweet.
“‘M still hungry, Caleb”
Your love the way his eyes darken another shade at your sweet tone.
“Yeah?” He asks in that raspy tone he only ever uses when he wants to devour you, the one that makes your whole body shiver.
He tilts the bar again, this time dragging the melting edge across your bottom lip like he’s painting you with it. “Then open up. I’m not done feeding you.”
You part your lips obediently, tongue peeking out just enough to meet the cold slide of the ice cream. This time when you take him in you do it slowly, letting him watch every inch disappear.
His free hand slides up your spine, fingers threading into the hair at your nape. “You’re doing so good” he whispers, more to himself.
The ice cream is melting faster now, dripping in sticky trails down the bar and over his fingers. Caleb doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, the mess seems to fascinate him.
He tilts the stick again, this time letting the underside glide along the flat of your tongue before pushing it back in deeper than before. You hum in surprise, the wet sound filling the humid air between you.
“That’s it” he murmurs, thumb still resting heavy on your lower lip, keeping it parted just enough for him to watch. “Nice and slow. Let me see.”
Melted cream smears across your chin, a thin white streak that runs down the column of your throat and disappears under the neckline of your tank top. Caleb’s gaze follows it like he’s hypnotized, and the tent in his pants poking you gets harder to ignore by the second.
“Fuck, look at you. Making such a pretty mess.” he breathes, his fingers flexing in your hair keeping you right where he wants you.
You let your teeth graze the surface before pulling off with another obscene pop, a glistening string of cream and saliva connecting your lips to the tip.
You lean in, your sticky lips brushing the shell of his ear.
“Not cold enough…” you whisper, and before he can react, you reach for the ice cream bar still clutched in his hand.
This time you don’t take it into your mouth, you drag the melting end across your own collarbone, leaving a slick, shining path that immediately starts to drip toward the valley between your breasts. The cold makes you shiver, and your nipples pebble hard against the damp cotton of your thin top.
Caleb watches the entire movement like a man starved. Without warning, his head dips.
His mouth closes over the streak of cream at the base of your throat first, his tongue chasing the cold trail and licking it clean in one filthy stripe. He follows the path downward, lips and tongue working over your skin, sucking lightly where the ice cream has pooled in the dip above your sternum.
You gasp, fingers flying to his hair. He pulls back just enough to steal the bar from your hand.
The ice cream bar is mostly gone, just a stub of cold between his fingers. He drops it somewhere unimportant, and replaces it with two of his fingers, still sticky with melted cream.
He pushes them past your lips. “Suck” he orders softly.
You obey, eyes fluttering shut as your tongue curls around his knuckles like you’re trying to get every last drop.
His other hand easily slides under your shirt, palm hot against your breast. His thumb brushes over the already sensitive peak, slow circles that make your back arch into his touch before he pinches, just enough to pull a muffled whimper from around his fingers.
He drags his fingers out slowly, bringing them to his own mouth and sucking them clean while holding your gaze.
“My girl is always so sweet” he whispers against your mouth, immediately closing the last inch of distance. His mouth claims yours in a deep and filthy kiss, tongue sweeping in to claim every lingering trace of cream.
thank you for reading! comments are always appreciated :)
@starbittenapple on twitter and ao3
caleb xia is like. he’s your big brother. he's your mother. he’s your father. he's all you've ever known. he’s you. you're him. where do you end and where does he begin? he’s alive. he’s dead. he’s alive. hes your other half. he loves you. he’s lying to you. he loves you. he's lying to you. he will smother you. he would never hurt you. his hands are so gentle. they’re braiding your hair. they're stroking your cheek. they’re around your wrists. they're around your throat. he would never hurt you. he’s the reason you’re alive. you’re the reason he exists. he's a puppy who was weaned too early and cant stop peeing on the couch. he's pathetic. he's a rabid dog with someone's throat still stuck in his teeth. he makes sure you eat every night. he does the dishes afterwards. he would eat you instead if he could. he would swallow you whole. he made you your favorite drink. why aren't you drinking it? don't you trust him? he's setting you free. he’s locking you away. he's the bird in the cage. you're the dead lizard impaled on his beak. he’s a black hole. you can’t escape. he’s a white hole. you wouldn't even want to.
you’re burned out and xavier feels helpless, unable to bring back your spark. then he finds an article on the benefits of skin-to-skin contact; he’d try anything if it meant having you back.
2k words
The apartment smells faintly of burnt garlic and rosemary.
You drop your bag by the door, shoulders sagging like wet laundry. The glow from the kitchen is soft, and you can see Xavier’s silhouette hunched over the stove, sleeves pushed to his elbows.
He startles when your keys clink, straightening and wiping flour off his forearm. “You’re early.” He says with a sheepish smile before taking a look at you.
The sight punches the air from his lungs. You look defeated. Hair messy from restless hands, skin a shade paler, dark crescents bruising the skin beneath your eyes. This is the fourth night you’ve come home looking like a ghost of yourself, always the same excuse: “Busiest time of the year. It’ll pass.”
“Orrr I’m late.” he adds, trying to mask his worry. “The chicken was supposed to be golden, not… charcoal-adjacent.”
You manage a tired laugh. “Smells like effort, that counts.”
He plates the slightly crispy rosemary chicken anyway and sets it in front of you like it’s a five-star dish. You eat because he’s watching, because refusing would mean explaining, and you’ve been dodging explanations all week.
“I’m fine,” you’d said this morning, eyes on your phone. “I told you, just busier than normal.”
“I’ll be okay,” you’d murmured last night, curled on the couch with case files spread like a fortress.
Fine, okay, busier. The words are like bricks and he keeps running into them.
He tries the next thing on his mental list of things that could make you feel better: a walk.
To his misfortune the day turns rainy and grey, city lights smearing across the wet pavement. He tilts the umbrella so the rain beads on his sleeve instead of your hair. You loop your arm through his, but your grip is loose, like you’re holding a railing instead of the man who would travel planets for you.
He needs you to talk to him, to yell, to cry… Anything. But you only sigh, a sound that thugs at his heart, so soft it’s almost swallowed by traffic.
Back home he runs you a bath, waiting for you on the couch as his palms rub restless circles on his thighs.
He misses you.
The bright, smiley, loving you — who used to launch into his arms after a long day, peppering his face with kisses until he laughed so hard his ribs hurt.
The feeling of being helpless was eating him alive.
Later, you’re asleep on the couch, cheek smushed against Xavier’s lap, hoodie riding up to reveal a strip of skin. Xavier drapes a blanket over you with the care of someone defusing a bomb, then retreats to his very important research on his phone.
He types: how to comfort your stressed partner
Offer distractions. (the walk made you quieter.)
Buy flowers (he already did and you looked happy before you started sneezing like crazy).
Listen without fixing (he’s trying).
Physical touch releases oxytocin…
He clicks.
It’s an article from a mothers blog. “Skin-to-skin isn’t just for newborns. Kangaroo care lowers cortisol, regulates heart rate and triggers oxytocin release within 10-20 minutes…”
There’s a picture of a tiny baby on a bare chest, Xavier blinks. You’re not a baby.
But as he reads more, the graph shows stress hormones plummeting after 20 minutes of bare skin contact. The comments are full of exhausted parents saying it saved their sanity, others claiming it helped their partners with anxiety.
He imagines you, curled small, heartbeat against his, the warmth of your chest seeping into him as he holds you tight. His own pulse spikes so hard he has to press a fist to his sternum.
Glancing down, he studies the purple shadows under your eyes, the way your mouth hangs slightly open against his thigh. He runs his fingers through your soft hair, deciding that he would try anything if meant for you to be okay.
He tries to imagine asking you to strip bare, getting into bed and just… hugging. Would you think he lost his mind? Or that maybe he has other motives behind his touch?
Maybe he should just say it’s science. You like science. One time you spent twenty minutes explaining some type of elemental reactions while he nodded, pretending to hear, but way too focused on memorizing your beautiful face to care about any science behind it.
He sighs and bookmarks it, closing the tab like it’s contraband.
“Take your clothes off. For science.” The line sounds ridiculous even in his head, but he’ll figure out how to bring it up without sounding stupid.
Saturday morning bleeds in slow, rain pattering the window.
You’re at the kitchen counter in Xavier’s oversized shirt, the one that hangs to your thighs like a dress. A mug of coffee sits untouched in front of you, gone cold while you stare at the screen of your computer like it owes you money.
The week’s weight sits heavy in your chest. You’ve spent the last few days fighting for your own sanity with the amount of work you had, clinging to the promise that it’ll end soon.
Just busier than normal, you’d kept telling your concerned boyfriend. I’ll be okay, don’t worry. Lies, but functional ones. Admitting the truth felt like stepping off a cliff, and you right now you couldn't afford the fall.
Xavier breaks your thoughts as he appears in the doorway with a sleepy expression, wearing nothing but the grey sweatpants that make you stare a little longer than needed.
You glance up, offering the ghost of a smile. “Hey. You’re up early for a Saturday.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” He crosses the kitchen in three quiet steps, stopping just behind you. Close enough to smell your shampoo but far enough that you don’t feel crowded. “So... I have an idea.”
You glance up, eyebrow arched. “Oh no... More burnt food?”
He huffs a laugh, but it’s strained. “No. You’ll probably think it’s weird, but I read something last night. And I want to try it… With you.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Can we go to the bedroom?”
You looked confused but still stood up from your chair. He extends a hand and you take it, his fingers curling around yours like they’ve been waiting years for the contact.
The bedroom is dim, curtains half-drawn against the drizzle, and the bed looks like the place you need to be the most in the world right now.
“I need you to take your clothes off.” He asks, or rather commands, with a faint blush on his cheeks.
Heat floods your face as you look back at him; you blink, processing. Was he…? Now?
The week’s exhaustion had made it hard for any type of sexual activity, and you wonder if that would actually help relieve a bit of the stress. Still, it was weird for Xavier to initiate it this randomly, no tension beforehand.
He catches the shift in your eyes. “Not like that, sweetheart. I mean, unless you– no, nevermind.” He shakes his head, trying to regain focus “Just…trust me?”
“Okay,” you whisper.
Relief softens his shoulders. “Shirt and pants,” he clarifies, tugging his own sweatpants down. He climbs onto the mattress in just his briefs, patting the space beside him. “The article wasn’t specific on underwear. Optional, I guess.”
You choke on a laugh. “You read an article about this?”
He nodded, his expression calm but his ears just slightly pink. "Like how newborns are held against their parents chests. Regulates heartbeat, breathing… calms the nervous system. I was wondering if you’d let me try it. Just for a few minutes. No pressure, love."
Comfort... Not what you’d assumed but definitely what you needed.
You hesitate, then peel the oversized shirt off your body, leaving you with your black pair of underwear. He opens his arms and you waste no time crawling in, instinctively straddling his lap. Before you can wrap around him, his callused palms glide down your waist, stopping you. He stares at your curves like they’re a constellation he’s memorized and still can’t believe is real.
“You’re so beautiful.” he whispers, like it’s the most obvious fact in the world.
“Xavier…” you warn, feeling your cheeks heat up at the intensity of his stare.
“Right” He clears his throat, hands sliding to your back. A quick flick of his fingers unhooks your bra. “This will probably get in the way.”
Goosebumps prickle as cool air hits your bare skin. Xavier’s gaze traces you, not hungry but reverent, like he’s worshiping what he hasn’t seen in weeks. Stars flicker in his eyes and you realize it’s been too long since you felt seen as you, without expectations or masks.
He falls back and pulls you flush – your chest squeezing against his chest, legs tangling automatically. The first contact steals your breath, his heartbeat thuds steady under your ear, a little fast. Yours answers, a little faster.
It wasn't the first time you held each other like this, but it usually happend while you were trying to regain your breaths after sex. Not like this, vulnerable and nervous.
He tucks your head beneath his chin as his palm begins slow, deliberate circles down your spine.
“Does it feel good?” He asks, voice low.
You nod, unable to form any words at the amount of warmth his body was giving you. You breathe him in, the familiar scent feeling more like home than any space you live in.
This is everything you’ve been missing. Maybe you didn’t need words or gestures, just him holding you steady like an anchor.
His thumb traces the notch at the base of your spine, counting ribs one by one.
You swallow. The words rise before you can cage them.
“I lied,” you whisper into the hollow of his throat.
His hand stills but he doesn’t speak, giving you the silence you finally want to fill.
“About being fine. About just being busy.” You bite down your lip that trembles. “I’ve barely even slept the last few days… trying to match the deadlines, trying to prove myself and others that I’m actually good at my job.”
A tear slips, hot against his skin. You don’t bother wiping it away.
He resumes the circles, slower now. “Keep going,” he murmurs, lips brushing your hair.
“I thought if I admitted it, I’d fall apart. And I can’t fall apart, Xavier. Not when everyone’s watching and expecting so much from me.” Another tear. “But I’m so tired… I’m scared I’ll burn out and drag you down with me.”
You feel his heart beating a little bit faster at your confession, arms tightening around you. “You’re not dragging me anywhere. I’m always here, at the same level as you.” His voice is rough and it vibrates through your body. “I’ve been helpless all week, watching you disappear and feeling like I can’t do anything about it.”
You swallow, his words hitting deep in your core.
“Sweetheart, when your world is falling apart, mine does too.” He whispers as his thumb brushes your wet cheek, and he sounds hurt. Your whole body starts aching and you press closer, as if you could fuse into him.
“I just didn’t want you to worry, Xavier.” you confess, voice cracking.
“I worry because I love you.” His words are so simple yet so strong. “Let me carry half the sky, okay? That’s the role I want to have in your life.”
Half the sky…
The phrase blooms in your chest, and you feel a sense of gratefulness that he’s with you, breathing under the same stars.
Your fingers curl against his chest “Okay...”
“So you promise you’ll take better care of yourself?” His voice lifts, hopeful.
A laugh bubbles up, watery “Yes Xavi, I promise. I won’t overdo work… for you and for myself”
“Well you don’t have to worry about that for now.” You look up at him, confused. “I called Jenna asking for a medical leave. She said you looked off the last few days and that you probably needed it. Didn’t even have to use my negotiation abilities” He says it casually but pride glints in his eyes.
You stare, incredulous. “You…”
Words tangle on your tongue. Thank you, you idiot, how dare you, I love you—so you only huff a laugh and push yourself up until you’re nose-to-nose. His fingers glide through your hair, tucking a stray strand behind your ear with the same care
“Three days, minimum. Doctor’s orders” he murmurs, voice velvet. “Well, Xavier’s orders, but she doesn’t have to know.” He winks. Your heart flips like it did the first time he smiled at you.
Then he places kisses all over your face, mapping every inch of you back to life.
And for the first time in weeks, you feel like yourself here, tangled in his arms, at home.
did NOT expect this to be this long or end so emotional but ig i love xavier too much... also tried experimenting a little bit with the povs, lmk if it was easy to read TT.
lately ive been feeling very inspired to write and the lads community has been super welcoming, tysm to everyone 😭!!
Caleb who tries to avoid blowjobs early in your relationship — not because he doesn’t like them but because he knows he’ll cum in less than a minute. One glimpse at your glassy, pleading eyes, lips stretched around him, drool shining at the corners of your mouth, and it’s already game over.
“L–love, please…slow down” He rasps, gently pulling you back by your hair, fingers trembling. You’re barely a minute in and his thighs are already quivering.
You pull off with a wet pop, his slick length brushing your cheek. “Why? Am I doing it wrong?” you ask, voice filled with innocence, thumb stroking the vein pulsing beneath his skin.
Caleb’s breath hitches. The sight alone of your lips swollen and his cock resting heavy against your flushed face could make him spill untouched.
“N–no. It’s just…too much.” He stammers, completely flushed in both embarrassment and pleasure.
"Is that a bad thing?" You smirked as you dragged your tongue in a slow, deliberate circle around his leaking tip, watching his hips jerk involuntarily.
His head snaps back, a broken groan tearing from his throat. The hand in your hair tightens, never actually pushing you or hurting you, just clinging, knuckles white. “Fuck– baby–”
“You are so sensitive” You whispered, lips brushing the slit as you speak. Another flick of your tongue and his curses turn into whimpers. You haven’t even taken half of him and he’s already gone. His eyes are squeezed shut, mouth slack, and his chest heaving like he’s drowning.
When you decided to take more of his length, your other hand helping where you couldn't reach, he sat up in surprise. “P–Pips” he whined, taking a look at your drooling mouth and beautiful eyes who looked back at him. His voice cracks as your throat flutters around him, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the stretch. You don’t stop, you can’t — not when he’s unraveling so beautifully.
You hollow your cheeks, bobbing faster as the lewd sounds of your mouth fill the room. His warnings turn frantic. “Baby– move, I’m gonna–”
But you only take him deeper, nails digging into his thigh as you feel him throb against your tongue. His whole body locks up, a choked sob escaping as he comes undone in your throat with hot, thick pulses filling you. You swallow greedily, milking every rope until he’s left begging for you to stop at the overstimulation.
your boyfriend's reaction when you start crying during sex.
You straddled Caleb’s lap, thighs locked around his waist as he drove into that spot again and again, unraveling you from the inside. He dragged you flush against him, bare chests making contact as he panted deliciously into your ear.
It was too much, too perfect. The pleasure coiled so tight it cracked something open behind your ribs. A small tear left you before you could stop it, not from pain but from the dizzying weight of him. He was alive, solid, here, arms caging you like you were something precious and small even as he thrusted roughly into you.
Your dazed state didn't stop you from feeling embarrassed at the thought of crying during sex, so you bit down on your lip, hard enough to taste copper, and buried your face in his hair. If you didn’t meet his eyes, maybe he wouldn’t notice.
Seconds later he shifted without warning, hands sliding to your hips as he guided you up an inch before reclining deeper into the couch. The new angle punched the air from your lungs, and this time you couldn’t stop the ragged sob that tore out of your chest.
Caleb froze.
His rhythm faltered, then slowed to a cautious roll. “Baby?” The pet name cracked in his throat. He eased you back, palms framing your wet cheeks. “Hey, hey, look at me. Did I hurt you?”
You shook your head frantically, but the tears kept coming, spilling over his thumbs. Words tangled behind your teeth, drowned by hiccupping breaths.
“Talk to me,” he pleaded, voice uncharacteristically tense. You could see the panic flickering in his purple eyes as they searched for yours. “Where? Tell me where it hurts.”
“No I– I” you tried to explain but the sobs that shook your body kept interrupting you. It seemed like one tear was enough to break down everything you had bottled inside, all that burning and aching you had for him exploding at once. You didn’t even know how to put it in words anyways.
His hands stilled on your face, thumbs hovering as if touching you might shatter something fragile. You hadn’t seen that expression on his face for a while – nervous, unsure, even fearful. You could feel him scanning your body, gaze searching every possible bruise he might have left, every place he’d been too eager, too rough. His fingers trembled against your cheeks.
When you didn't answer he started to pull out slow and careful, scared the smallest movement might break you even further. However you locked your ankles behind his back and shook your head again, harder.
“No– no, stay– The words choked off into another sob.
His eyes snapped back to yours, filled with worry. “Then what is it?”
You felt the way his heart hammered against your ribs, frantic. “You’re crying, baby. You’re crying and I can’t–” His voice drops to a rough whisper. “I can’t fix what I can’t see.”
“It doesn’t–” A laugh-sob escaped as you tried again. “Caleb you didn’t hurt me. I just–” You pressed your forehead to his, trembling. “You’re here, you’re real, and... I love you so much it hurts.”
You could see the exact moment the tension in his shoulders melted. He looked back at you with soft eyes, a shaky exhale ghosting across your lips as he swept a fresh tear away.
“Love...” He pulled you back into his chest, one hand cradling the nape of your neck, the other splayed between your shoulder blades like he could shield you from the world. “You know I’m never going anywhere. Not without you.”
His hips stayed still now, grounding you instead of chasing release. You clung to him, face tucked under his jaw, letting the storm pass in the steady drum of his heartbeat against yours. He didn’t say anything, just held you tight and close as you calmed down.
After a while, your breathing evened. He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Better?”
You nodded, sniffling. “Mortified, but better.”
He chuckled, and you almost melted at his beautiful smile. “Crying because it feels too good? That’s definitely a new one.” His fingers traced idle circles on your back. “Next time warn a guy, Pips. Almost gave me a heart attack.”
You huffed a shaky laugh into his skin. “Shut up.”
“Make me,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear. You shivered at his voice, remembering how minutes ago he was nothing but pants and whimpers against your ear.
He rocked you once, slow and deliberate, testing. “Sooo… still with me?”
You answered by tightening your arms around his neck and rolling your hips in return. “Always”
thank you for reading! working on Xavier's version :)
A colletion of 3 drabbles with young mc and Caleb. (use of gege/meimei)
same bed
At a certain age, Josephine prohibited you and Caleb from sleeping on the same bed. She said you were both getting older and needed to start setting boundaries with each other.
Needless to say, you didn’t take it well, storming out of the room and slamming your door shut.
A few minutes later Caleb was outside, softly knocking as he waited for your reply. “I’m sorry, meimei, I’ll make up for it. We will spend more time together during the day, okay?” He comforted, as he felt his own heart breaking at your disappointment
Still, when you had nightmares or or couldn’t fall asleep, you couldn’t help but quietly barge into Caleb’s room. You would lie besides him, hoping he was asleep. Every time Caleb would sigh, knowing you weren’t supposed to be there, yet completely unable to deny you anything. He’d hold you close, rubbing your belly in soothing motions until you drifted off.
In the mornings he would carry you back to your room, princess-style, before Josephine woke up and you got in trouble.
2. grown up
As a little kid you followed him everywhere, and he would happily comply, holding your hand and bringing you along. You loved your food if it was made by him, loved your oufit if it was put together by him, and even enjoyed your school subjects if they were explained by him.
That was until you started growing up and became a teenager. Suddenly, you were a strong and independent girl who didn’t need his help for anything.
You brushed him off everytime he offered his help, angrily saying “I’m not a baby anymore, Caleb!”. Too encapsulated in your anger, you didn’t notice how much you were breaking your poor gege’s heart.
He tried everything to get his sweet girl back — buying your favorite snacks, loudly playing your favorite movies on the TV, cooking your favorite food and even bribed you with tickets for the amusement park. But every attempt was met with silence or a cold glance.
Still, he never stopped trying. On rainy days, he’d leave an umbrella by your door before you went out. When exams came around, he’d quietly slide a mug of hot cocoa onto your desk.
“Gege, can you help me with this?” you muttered one day, voice trembling just a little. He froze for a second, afraid he’d imagined it. But when he turned around and saw you standing there, he smiled, warm as always. “Yeah” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Always”
3. first period
Your first period was traumatic. You were at school when you felt a strange sensation that sent you running to the bathroom. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the bloody mess staining your underwear and uniform. You cried softly, unsure of what to do, feeling helpless and in pain.
Caleb always waited for you outside of school. Not wanting him to see the state you were in, you texted “I have cleaning duties today, go ahead without me.”
You should’ve known better—should’ve known Caleb always read through your lies, even over text. A few minutes later you heard his familiar voice calling from outside the bathroom. You opened the door just an inch, your red, puffy eyes peeking through. Concern inmedialtely filled his face “Meimei, are you alright? What happened? Did someone hurt you?”
Embarrassed, you confess in between sniffles “I-I got my first period, a-and my tummy hurts, and my uniform is all stained now”
He stilled for a second before softly sighing in relief and wiping your tears with his thumb “Shh, it’s okay. Wait here, okay? Gege will be back soon” You nodded, trying to calm yourself down.
He ran as fast as he could to the school infirmary, returning a few minutes later with pads and painkillers. When he came back, he handed them to you and waited patiently outside.
Finally you stepped out of the bathroom, looking a mess. Your eyes were tear-stained, hair disheveled from running your hands through it, and slightly hunched over in pain.
He didn’t think twice before wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close, and gently patting your head. “You’re okay now meimei. We’ll go home and you can rest all you want” You finally felt your heartbeat settle a little.
He lent you his jacket to hide the stain as you headed back. Once home, he gave you a small lecture about the menstrual cycle — everything he’d learned just for you — and then spoiled you for the rest of the day with your favorite sweets and extra cuddles.
new into lads tumblr, reblogs are very much appreciated! 💞