Rafayel wasn’t one to suggest public sex, but he was just so needy tonight. You both had been in his sports car for a while now, his hand lingering on your thigh as your things pressed together.
He didn’t need any more convincing, pulling the car off along the road to finally get more than just his hands on you.
He gently pushed you up onto the hood of the car, kissing along your neck and down your shoulder. “Love you, baby.. please,” he whined so nicely, knowing his long lashes was all he needed to convince you to part your thighs for him.
Rafayel leaned you back, pulling your panties down just enough so he could rub the head of his cock along your folds. He let out a pathetic groan, barely hesitating before he was sinking into your heat. “Fuckk, I love you.. I love you..” He babbled on stupidly, fucking into you harder as he pushed your legs over his shoulders.
The setting sun gleamed across his face, capturing every one of his expressions as you clutched onto his arms for support. He was lost in pleasure, his lips parted in soft moans every time you clenched around his length. He reached down to rub your clit, adoring every single whimper that fell from your lips. “I know, princess.. you’re being so good for me,” he praised under his breath, eyes sparkling when your legs twitched.
His arms moved to lock around your hips, leaning over your body to get ae deep as he could. “You’re killing me, baby.. so so perfect f’me..” He panted out, hiking your thighs up as he rutted against the spongy spot that always brought you to tears.
Rafayel came hard, his nails digging into your sides as his cum spurted into your cunt in hot bursts. He felt your walls clamping down on him, your own orgasm hitting you as your cream coated his base.
He didn’t pull out, only moving in shallow thrusts to keep you full of his cum. “Did so good for me, baby,” he whispered sweetly, kissing your face devotedly before finally pulling out and fixing your panties.
“You’ll leave it in ‘til we get home, right?” He pouted, jutting his bottom lip out at you as he smoothed your skirt down. “Wan’ you to be full of me..”
He was only satisfied when you agreed to his pleas, getting back into his car again as he drove through the starry night back to your apartment. Worth it.
i was inspired by his new banner. he came home in 70 pulls tho so im mad af BOOOOO RAF🍅
anyone else think that sex with some clothes still on is extremely sexy? like getting eaten out through your underwear? HOT. Getting your tits played with underneath your shirt while getting pounded? HOT. Bent over wearing a dress and him pulling your panties aside as he thrusts his cock in you? HOT HOT HOT.
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 :)
tags : caleb x f!reader, suggestive, that turtleneck is doing things to me
“Babe, what’s…mmh-” Caleb all but nearly moans into your mouth as you pull him in and press your lips back against his, so hard that it almost knocks him off balance. Luckily, he’s able to catch himself against the wall, hand slamming right beside your head yet you’re too high on him too notice anything around you.
You’ve pounced on him as soon as he’s left the bedroom earlier, freshly showered, dressed up and reeking of cologne. The musky smell reeled you in like an aphrodisiac, yet if one were to ask you sincerely for the reason behind your sudden… eagerness, it was definitely that damn black turtleneck. He had barely made it out of the bedroom, ready to put his shoes on when you decided to distract him from his actual goal of getting ready for your lunch date.
The moment your head starts swimming, you finally decide to let go. Your head lolls back against the wall as you assess Caleb through heavy lidded eyes. His raw kissed lips, the pinkish hue dusting his skin all over his cheeks and ears, the drunk look in his glistening eyes… and that goddamn tight turtleneck. The way it strains over his chest, and accentuates his broad shoulders as well as those thick arms-
“What’s gotten into you all of a sudden, huh?” His hoarse voice makes your stomach flip as he leans in to nose along your neck, leaving a peck or two on the exposed skin there. “It can’t be that you still didn’t have enough? I think last night was pretty intense when we-”
Despite being a strong hunter, one would still wonder where you’ve got your strength from for you to easily pull a mass of a man like him solely by the belt loop on his dress pants in. So close that he has no other choice but to slot his thigh betweeb your own legs.
So close that you can feel how hard he already is.
“It’s just…” Your teeth dig into your lower lip as you carefully try to find the right words all while containing a love sick smile to stretch all over your face. Caleb’s own heart is doing summersaults once he notices the look on your face and can’t help but cup it in both his palms. “You look very, very, very good. Like this.”
“Yeah?” The word is barely a whisper as it tumbles off his lips, but with his forehead leaning against yours, you can hear him so clearly. “Then I guess we’ll have to stay at home this afternoon. Maybe even all day? Can’t risk getting ogled by other people when I look so very. very. good. Whatcha’ think, pretty girl?”
Your legs immediately wrapping around his waist are answer enough for him once he lifts you up, and carries you back to your bedroom.
Although, you make sure he keeps his clothes on a little longer than needed.
Thinking about him coming home from a mission he’d taken 3 days ago, the second he closed the door from your apartment he’s already thinking of how to get back home to you and when the day finally comes he lets himself in, swinging the door open and locking it behind him. That’s how you end up pressed into your couch in a heated makeout, a moment with tension that neither of you could pull away from. So to ease the ache Xavier’s hips start rolling desperately against your core in hopes that in some impossible scenario he’ll somehow break through the layers of your clothes and sheath his throbbing, twitching, cock into your soft gooey warmth just like how he’d fantasized from all those miles away. He’s in the perfect position to get what he wants, what he craves, however the allure that comes with the burning desire holds him back if not just for a moment .
summary: you pass out during sex and caleb helps you feel better when you wake up. he won’t rock your world anymore afterwards, scared he hurt you (he didn’t)
content: p in v, description of passing out, calebs kinda blaming himself
wc: 1,134
a/n: i passed out recently if you can’t tell, this is very self indulgent. it was NOT while i was getting crazy cracked though (i wish💔)
dick so good it puts you to sleep.. kind of?
your cheek was smushed against a pillow and you were drooling and whining into it as caleb rammed into you from behind, his hands holding your hips in a tight grip.
you were still in the process of getting over the flu, your body still slightly weak, but you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from jumping calebs bones after he came home all sweaty from a workout.
you moaned into the pillow, your stomach fluttering as he increased his pace. caleb held your hand behind your back gently, the simple action making the experience a million times more intimate for both of you.
“fuckk, pips, so pretty.” he moaned out, hand kneading the skin of your hip as he pressed into you harder.
you whined in response, words escaping you as your lower stomach tightened in the same familiar way that it did every time you two were together like this.
what wasn’t familiar though was the sudden fuzziness in your vision and the ringing in your ears that drowned out calebs mumbled praises.
you tried to push up onto your hands and knees with your one available hand in hopes that that might clear your head, but found yourself too weak to do so.
“‘leb-” caleb heard you mumble, thinking you were just moaning his name like usual. he hummed and thrust into you harder, his hips hitting your ass and making a slapping noise echo through the room.
“yeah baby? feels good?” his thumb softly rubbed the back of your hand.
you huffed out a breath and tried to lift your head, but it stayed firmly planted on the pillow like it was weighed down with bricks.
caleb was rambling about how he was about to cum in your sweet pussy when your hand relaxed in his and your torso was slipping down towards the bed, which was unusual. he knew you well. too well, you might argue. he knew normally when you were close you gripped his hand and tensed up, you never let go of his hand and relaxed your body.
he frowned and tapped your hip gently. “pips?”
with no response he pulled out of you gently and let go of your hand and hip. with nothing holding you up now, you flopped forward against the bed.
calebs heart rate spiked when he saw you laying limp on the bed, his mind sharpening as he looked you over. he flipped you over onto your back, rubbing your cheek gently in an attempt to get you to wake up.
as he stroked your soft skin, he noticed that you were visibly paler than normal. “hey- hey, baby. shit did you pass out? what did i do-”
with no reaponse from you, he gently pulled your hair away from your face and neck, seeing sweat starting to form on the nape of your neck and your hairline. he looked at the clock on the wall and devided that if you weren’t awake in the next minute he would call an ambulance.
when you started to come back to, your head was spinning something fierce. it took you a long moment to orient yourself in the room, lifting your arm up to rub your eyes, the limb heavier than you’d ever felt it.
“ughh.” you groan and look to your side where caleb looks down at you nervously. “cay?”
“hi pretty. you passed out, do you feel alright?” he asks slowly, enunciating the words just in case your brain is still muddled from being unconscious.
you swallow, your throat dry and scratchy. “need wat-”
before you can finish the sentence, caleb is helping you sit up slowly, supporting your back and holding a glass of cold water to your lips. “drink slowly so you don’t choke.”
you drink half the glass of water, ending up with water dribbling from your mouth. caleb wipes the water from your chin after setting the glass down. “feelin’ alright now?”
he gently fluffs the pillows behind you before leaning you back against them carefully.
you nod and lean your head on his shoulder, nuzzling your nose against his warm neck and causing goosebumps to rise in your wake. “mhm. i’m sorr-”
“huh, weird, i must’ve gotten something stuck in my ear- i knooow i’m not hearing my beautiful, sweet, perfect wife apologizing for passing out.” caleb interrupts, peppering kisses against the top of your head.
“no apologizin’ for that, yeah? i’m wayyy more worried about you being okay than us finishing what we started.”
you sigh in relief, melting into him, appreciative of how understanding he was. your skin was starting to lose the prickling sensation and your vision and hearing were returning to normal.
after a few minutes of quiet cuddling filled with caleb softly running his fingers up and down your arm and you leaving soft kisses on his neck in thanks, you spea. “i’m okay, really. i think the position got to me, blood going to my head, y’know? plus im still getting over being sick, soo that probably didn’t help.”
he nodded and looked down at you, hair falling in his eyes slightly. “let’s set up a safeword. ooorr a secret-sex-stopping handshake just in case this becomes a habit.” he jokes before his voice takes on a serious tone that you rarely get to hear. “i can’t handle thinking i hurt you again.”
the two of you pondered about safewords and handshakes for a bit, giggling at the ridiculous suggestions made on both sides. in the middle of caleb listing off types of aircrafts you could use for a safeword, he looks down at you only to find you asleep.
caleb held you through the night, continually checking on you to make sure you were alright. despite your reassurances that you were fine, he was still worried about your sudden fainting. he kept a thumb on the pulse point of your neck, holding his breath to count your heartbeats to make sure your heart wasn’t racing.
for weeks caleb was unnecessarily cautious in bed, always quadruple checking that you knew the safe word, the sex-stopping handshake- because you would definitely use that- and he made sure you knew to tell him if anything was off.
anytime you shifted a bit during sex or you made a sound that indicated more pain than pleasure, he would immediately stop and badger you with questions- “are you okay?” “want me to stop?” “need a break?”.
after he stopped sex three times in one round to check on you, you finally snapped at him. “caleb xia if you don’t stop treating me like i’m made of glass i swear i will banish you to the couch and make you listen to me fuck my dildo all night.”
…yeah, that fixed your sex life real quick.
---
a/n pt2: lets pls just ignore that you normally pass out bc of blood going away from your head quickly, not the opposite (what happened in this….)😟um. i have no excuse for doing it backwards, i forgot !! so, ermmm oopsies? also i normally post in the mornings but yolo happy evening!
୨୧ — The room reeks of sex, a hazy den of endless indulgence where time's lost all meaning. Caleb's been relentless, his gravity evol pinning you down just enough, but not so much that you can't writhe beneath him.
He's fucked you dumb for hours -maybe days, who knows?- each thrust a punishing rhythm that turns your thoughts to brainless mush. Your pussy's a syrupy mess, clenching around him like a gummy vice, strangling his thick cock as he pounds into you over and over and over again.
Condoms litter the floor like discarded battle trophies, some slumped on the bed's edge, their translucent skins bulging with his spent loads, leaking pearly trails onto the sheets. You've lost count of how many he's gone through, each one ripped open in frantic haste, rolled on with a crooked grin, only to be filled and flung aside.
But now, the box is empty…
Caleb doesn't pause, doesn't even warn you. His purple eyes growing darker with obsession, the one he's hidden for so long behind brotherly teases and protective smiles…
He lines up bare, the hot, veined length of him pressing against your puffy folds, and slides in raw for the first time.
Oh god, the difference hits like an explosion- skin on skin, no barrier to dull the feeling of your slick tight walls, every ridge and vein dragging inside you, shaping your cunt to his shape. Your tongue lolls out, eyes crossing as your mind fractures, too blissed out to process why it feels so much deeper, so much more invasive. It's like he's reshaping you from the inside.
He groans low, hips snapping forward, burying himself to the hilt, “We ran out of rubbers... and I didn't hear any complaints… so I figured…” His voice is laced with that calculated coldness he saves for the fleet, but softened by the love only you can ignite. Then he delivers one hard, deliberate thrust, his cockhead kissing your cervix like it's begging for entry to your womb- demanding it.
You swear you feel him in your belly, a bulging pressure that makes your toes curl and your back arch, like he's fucking straight into your guts, churning up your insides. Fuck. You just know you’ll never be the same after this… never want to use rubbers again or ever want another cock.
“P-Pregnant... could get... pregnant,” you babble, words slurring through the haze, your body betraying you with another desperate clench, milking him all sweet and needy.
He chuckles softly, that playful tone from your shared childhood. Leaning down, he presses a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose, his arm bracing beside your head while his other hand traces your trembling thigh, “Would that be so bad, Pips?”
The question hangs, and in your fucked out stupor, you wonder…would it? The thought blooms warm in your chest, chasing away the fog just enough for clarity. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper, locking him in place as if to say yes, fill me, keep going until I’m pregnant with your baby.
He smiles then, that approachable, friendly smile with adoration, his dark hair tousled and damp, “I take that as a no, it wouldn’t be so bad?” His tone is teasing, but his eyes sparkle with triumph.
Through teary lashes, you meet his gaze, blushing furiously- a sweet, vulnerable flush that reminds him of the innocent girl who used to take his hand and follow him from playground days.
You nod, slow and certain, and that's all he needs.
hell, you didn’t even know you could do it yourself.
it all hit you like a freight train that night, tangled up in his bed, sweat-slicked sheets twisted around your legs.
you’d been fucking for what felt like hours — his thick cock slamming into you missionary style, your thighs spread wide, knees hooked over his hips as he pounded relentlessly.
every thrust stretched your soaked pussy to its limits, the obscene squelch of your juices filling the air.
you were a mess already, clit throbbing from the way he’d been rubbing it earlier with his thumb, your walls clenching greedily around him like they were trying to milk him dry.
but then it built — this weird, unfamiliar pressure deep in your core, like you had to piss but way more intense, bubbling up from your bladder and radiating through your swollen folds.
it scared you a little, made your body tense. “caleb — fuck, slow down-” you gasped, your voice breaking as you clawed at his shoulders, nails digging into his sweat-drenched skin.
his eyes lit up like you’d just handed him the keys to paradise.
that hungry, feral grin spread across his face, all teeth and sin, and instead of slowing, the bastard motivated himself.
“oh yeah? that’s it, baby girl.” he growled low and nasty, voice rough as gravel. “don’t you hold back on me.” before you could protest, his strong arms wrapped around you like iron bands, yanking your body flush against his.
he locked you in tight — chest to chest, your tits squished against his pecs, his hips pinning yours down so you couldn’t squirm away.
one hand gripped your ass cheek hard, fingers bruising the flesh as he spread you wider, the other tangled in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat for his teeth.
he went feral after that, jackhammering into you faster, harder — his cock pistoning like a machine.
“come on baby..” he snarled against your neck, biting down just hard enough to draw a whimper.
“i can feel it — you’re gonna fucking explode all over my dick.” the pressure skyrocketed, your bladder screaming, you thrashed in his grip, but he held you immobile, fucking you through it.
“fuck—caleb, i can’t—” you wailed, your voice a broken sob.
and then it hit—that feeling bursting inside you, your pussy convulsed violently around his cock, walls fluttering and squeezing as a gush of hot fluid erupted from you.
you felt it everywhere — your juices running down you, pooling under your ass, making everything slippery and filthy.
“fuuuuck..” caleb groaned, eyes wild with lust as he watched it happen, feeling the warm flood coat his shaft mid-thrust.
he didn’t stop—kept railing you through the orgasm, his cock churning your squirting pussy into a frothy mess, white cream from your arousal foaming at the base.
Tears were leaking down his flushed cheeks, wrists sore from where he had repeatedly tugged at the handcuffs keeping him to your bedframe. “Shut it, slut.” You spit the words at him, no real venom behind them but the effect was all the same. Caleb moaned, raw and deep as you plunged his cock back into the pocket pussy.
“You’re a bad dog, y’know. Having this behind my back and all.”
You had come home early with the intent of surprising your lover. Only to find him naked in your shared bed, cock stuffed in a fake pussy, his head buried in your pillow.
“Such a needy slut, Caleb. Couldn’t wait for me?” Your pace is brutal for someone who’s already cum six times into the silicone toy. Sooner or later he’d start shooting blanks if you didn’t ease up. “I-I said I was sorry!” This flush had spread to his pecs, covered in your teeth indents as added punishment.
“Sorry doesn’t cut it, slut.” You purr the insult, feeling his cock twitch violently inside the toy. “You’re a fucking pervert, Caleb. Went out and bought yourself a fake pussy because you can’t have your dick stuffed in mine all the time?” You squeeze hard enough that his back arches off the mattress. The sight is humiliating.
“Y-yes!” he was cumming again, flooding the toy with his release. You kept pumping, watching the pearly liquid gush around his base. Toys weren’t off limits for you two, you really didn’t mind that he owned such a thing considering you owned a few dildos. But you couldn't pass up this opportunity to have the upper hand.
“Pipsqueak, please… mercy… I can’t take it…” His lips were swollen from biting so hard, tears still flowing freely. “Too bad, Caleb. I’m not satisfied with your punishment yet.” And you started moving it again, pumping just as aggressively as before, ripping a strangled scream from his throat as overstimulation turned painful.
“You wanted a fake pussy so bad, so you’re going to fuck it until I’m satisfied.” You were silently digging your own grave and you knew it. Caleb would get you back for this tenfold, but it’d take him a good long while to recover from this first. “Pipsqueak, please it hurts so much… I-agh-I can’t do it anymore!” but his hips are thrusting up to meet the pocket pussy, thighs trembling as he ruts into your hand.
“You can and you will, Caleb. You’ll be a good little slut and take your punishment. Don’t think I forgot all the times you returned the favor." He could only whimper, looking at you with tear filled puppy-dog eyes. “Pips…” but you were standing your ground, a wicked grin on your face as you cupped his balls and squeezed.
The noise that came out of him nearly made you laugh, his head tossing back and bed frame creaking dangerously as he yanked on the handcuffs. “Shut up and take it like a good boy, Caleb.“
“look at me…” xavier’s voice is quiet but deep, laced with that raw dominance he so easily slips into during times like this.
“i said,” his fingers grasp your cheeks, forcing you gaze up to meet his. “look. at me.” his fingers below don’t stop pounding into you, curling with every thrust to make sure he hits your sweetest spot.
“yeah,” he whispered, ears flushing red at the ‘fuck me’ expression you have on your face. he cornered you in the dark kitchen half an hour ago, shirt half unbuttoned and cheeks flushed from sleep.
what started as him cuddling up to you, cooing about how he was missing you while you were gone all day, turned into him pressing a knee between your thighs, spreading you open while he slid his fingers inside you, watching how your legs trembled with the effort it took to keep you standing
“you look like it feels good.” he breathes against your lips, tickling your overheated flesh. “i can feel how good it’s making you feel down here,” he emphasizes his words with a strong curl of his fingers. “but now i can see it up here too. i like it.”
you gasp, gripping the edge of the table behind you. “xav—“ your eyes roll back in your head, back arching.
“mmmh, say that again. say my name again.” he moans, bottom lip pouting outward with his own arousal. he’s long made a mess in his pants, leaking pre into his boxers and staining them with the evidence of his need.
“xav,” you cry, bucking your hips into his hand. “i’m gonna—“
“yeah, i know.” xavier leans in and connects your lips, moaning into the kiss as he picks up the pace of his hand, thrusting harder, faster, hitting that spot over and over and— “i want to see you cum,” he whispers in that breathless, dark voice. “i want to feel you cum. please.”
you’re helpless to his plea’s, when he begs you so prettily while manhandling you below and above. his soft words are the sweetest contrast, making your head spin as you’re shoved off the edge and are sent careening into the bliss only he knows how to take you to.
xavier moans when you start strangling his fingers, his hand around your jaw drops to grip his own cock through his pants for some semblance of releif as you shake and twitch, back bowing into him so hard you have to grip his thick forarm to stay steady.
“just like that. i missed this,” he groans, stroking himself through his slacks a little. “you feel so good for me, and you look so pretty.”
you gasp, desperate for air when you come down. “s-shit.” your legs are shaking beyond belief, it’s a miracle you’re still standing at all. “xav… that felt… so good. missed you.”
“mmhm,” he agrees, slowing his fingers until you can hardly feel them curling. when he pulls them out, he watches every movement, enraptured at how wet his fingers are, how your pelvis jerks forward like you’re trying to keep him inside you.
“but… there’s a problem now.” he says, gripping your hand with his own to place it over the very prominent bulge in his pants. he pouts as he puts on an expression of faux sadness. “now i’m like this.” he moves your hand, making you stroke him slowly up and down. up and down. as you do, his cock twitches against your hand, eager for attention. “won’t you help me?”
sypnosis. deciding to adopt an injured wolf-dog you found by the side of the road, things take a turn for the weird when you find footprints instead of pawprints in your newly tilled soil...
— tags. wolf-dog!hybrid caleb, farm!AU, male masturbation, collars, leashes, femdom, power switch, rutting, breeding kink, dubcon, cervix fucking, multiple rounds, slight overstim, caleb and reader were adopted together, branding
— dawn says. third (??) kinktober is here! so excited to kick it off with some puppyleb 🐶 hope you enjoy!! <3
kinktober 2025 | A03
There’s a certain… strangeness … about this dog you rescued one freezing night while out delivering errands for the townspeople of Uncanny Valley.
You’d think you were just being paranoid—if you hadn’t caught him sitting like a human, or walking upright when he thought you weren’t looking.
Briefly, an old Navajo folklore about figures who can transform themselves into animals in order to seed discord and chaos comes to mind.
Skinwalkers?
Nightwalkers?
You can’t quite remember.
And yet, this little dog you adopted—named ‘Apples’ because you found him during fall, under a wizened apple tree—is the sweetest fur-ball to have ever existed.
Dark brown with white and honey-colored streaks in his coat, he had an affinity for nipping at your heels and licking your eyeballs when you were still half-asleep.
As another living being, Apples was the perfect companion out in these farms where you had no one but your breath and the taste of sweat to keep you company.
Shaking your head, you go back to the task at hand.
It’s another backbreaking day of farming.
After tilling the dirt, you whistle for Apples, calling out to him like the wind.
“Apples! Come hereeee boy!”
No response.
You put the shovel down and frown. It’s unlike your beloved pup to ever ignore your call.
Maybe he’s by the forest taking a nap?
That makes sense. Apples always did love to wander past the fences and take a snooze under the old apple tree you found him under.
Shrugging, you go back to your chores.
But, after an hour of no Apples, and thunder clouds brewing in the horizon, you decide to call it a day and head back into your cabin.
The scent of a roast you had going on the oven fills your cramped, but cozy space with the fragrance of red wine and sauteed garlic, making your mouth water.
Usually, Apples would be bounding around ecstatically when you open the oven door, eager to lap up any juices that accidentally spill from the pan as you transferred your meal to the table.
But, his absence makes you uneasy, and you set the hot sheet down, removing your mittens.
Heading straight to the back door that leads to the chicken coops, you swing it open, treading out into the muddy backyard.
“Apples?”
You weave past chicken coops, the soft sounds of your hens snoozing and clucking filling the air.
Your gaze scans the floor, hoping to find any indents of his paw prints in the soggy terrain, when you come to a hard pause.
Footprints.
Huge, distinctively human footprints with five toes, as if whoever created it was walking barefoot all around the backyard.
Your eyes follow the trail, heart in your throat. The wind picks up, whipping your hair around, grabbing at your clothes like invisible hooks, like its holding you back from discovering the truth.
Thunder, loud and powerful, claps directly above your head, and you nearly jump out of your own skin, muffling your shriek with a gloved hand.
Stilling your heart, you suck in a sharp breath and round the bend where the footprints disappear—right into your preservatives shed.
Fear, real and cold, pricks your scalp, running down your back.
You pick up the first item you find—a broken ax, and swing it nervously, reaching for the shed door handle.
…
Darkness diffuses across your vision, and you blink rapidly, trying to force your eyes to focus.
There’s barely a rustle.
But, something sinister lingers.
The air feels like someone is holding their breath—
You fumble for a light switch, and when brightness flickers upon the slate gray walls of the shed, you scream at the hulking figure standing butt-naked between the fermenting blackberries and raisins.
A man towers over the barrels of jam and wine, head bowed, eyes unfocused.
He jerks back at your shriek, gaze snapping up and meeting yours.
He bares his teeth.
In a flash of skin and muscle, he lunges across the room and slams your body into the wall, his hot, acrid breath fanning across your neck where he buries his nose into your pulse point, scenting you.
His thick head of dark hair fills your nose with the scent of musk and dog, your heartbeat hammering against your skin like a trapped hummingbird.
“No—!”
The man snarls and lifts you off your feet, the ax swinging to the ground as he drags you out. You’re no match for him; a head shorter, not enough strength in your muscles to fight him back when your body hits the ground.
He cages you with his strong arms, a wolfish gleam in his eyes as he dips his head down, burying his nose into your hair, against your cheeks and jaw.
For a second, you’re reminded of fluffy bristles—a rough tongue dragging across your face in the early dawn, cheerful yips when you finally open your eyes to a new day.
His name tumbles from your lips like a frozen teardrop.
“… Apples?”
The man freezes.
Turns his brilliant, unnerving violet eyes to devour your startled gaze.
“Y/N…”
He rasps, voice shaky, as if he can’t quite enunciate words yet.
The silver collar with the apple chain around the dog’s neck has transformed into a necklace, the tag hitting your chin when he tries to raise his head up.
The fear still beats in you like a real, raw thing, but its tempered by the horror that the strange pup you adopted… was actually a man all along?
What sick joke is this?
Skinwalker?
Or, a Nightwalker come to life?
As if reading your mind, the man groans and turns on his side, releasing his feral grip on you.
“I… don’t know what happened—”
Before he can finish, you lunge for the nearest rock, and smash it against his head.
Knocking him out cold.
A trickle of blood drips from his mouth into the freshly tilled soil, but you don’t have time to worry about anything else besides restraining this strange… creature.
Spare ropes from the tool shed is wound around his torso and arms. You summon enough strength to haul him back into the jam shed, tethering him to the wall so he has no way of escaping.
His manhood is right in your face, and mortified, you cover it with a piece of cloth.
That should do it.
Except, you’re not sure if it’s enough.
The need to survive is a very human thing, and right now, every fiber of your being is screaming at you to make sure this creature will outlive you, if you had a say about it.
It’s either you, or him.
The knife you keep close to your body is unsheathed, and you stalk over to the unconscious, bound man.
Now, that he’s out cold, you can take a proper, closer look at him.
Under the swinging fluorescent light, his angular features are the first thing you notice. Strong brows, a sharp jaw. Handsome, even.
God.
You shouldn’t even be thinking about him like this.
Focus! Your mind snaps back to the present, and you decide not to cut his throat open just yet. Instead, you sit down on the straw-strewn floor and keep watch. It must be hours that pass when he finally stirs. Your body is frozen from the shock of it all, and your weary eyes—it's now past midnight—flutter back into wakeful urgency.
The man who was also your dog once upon a time lolls his head, thick lashes quivering as one eye opens, and the next reveals semi-lucid violet pinpricks for pupils.
He catches sight of you, and his lip curls over his teeth.
You reach for your knife, showing him that you’re armed.
The man struggles in his bonds, but when he realizes you’ve knotted them expertly, he grunts, settling back against the wall.
“Who are you?”
Surprisingly, your voice doesn’t waver.
Maybe it’s the sudden burst of bravery you feel at having him all tied up in front of you—the false safety lulling your defenses.
The man quirks one, strong brow.
“Untie me first, and then I’ll tell you,” he rumbles.
You shoot him a distrustful look. Waving the knife threateningly, you take one more step closer to him.
“Who. Are. You?”
Despite his current situation, the man hybrid wolf-dog (?) smirks and shakes his head.
“Always so stubborn. You sure you don’t remember me, Pipsqueak?”
The world narrows down onto the curve of his lips; the earnest sheen of his gaze.
Pipsqueak. Pipsqueak.
The nickname goes off in your mind like a stray bullet, shocking you into a frozen stupor.
There was only one boy who ever dared call you ‘pipsqueak’ and get away with it alive. A boy with sunshine on his cheeks, a gap-toothed smile, and the faint constellations of freckles dusting his fair face and neck.
Caleb.
The disbelief rushes out of you in a single exhale.
“Caleb?”
He lifts his head, disarming you with a soft, warm smile.
“It’s me,” he says, no barriers—no fraud. Just pure, unadulterated warmth in his tone as his gaze softens to the point of remembrance. “I’m alive.”
Images flash in your head: sirens bouncing blue-red light off swampy trees, police taping off the area, a broken bike and a ditch beyond where a single boy was thought to have disappeared from the world.
You had spent hours awake with your grandma, waiting for grandpa to come home with news of Caleb’s reappearance. But, it’s as if the boy you grew up with—the one your grandparents took in because he was an orphan—had vanished into thin air.
The night before he left, you two were fighting over which cartoons to watch.
He wanted to catch up with his Tata The Pilot episode, while you insisted on tuning into the new season of My Life as Eva, desperate to know if the teenage robot girl had finally confessed her feelings to her human best friend, Andy.
Caleb had chased you around for the remote, and when you refused to give in—even weaponizing your tears against him—he stomped his foot and took his bike for a ride to clear his head.
You remembered how triumphant you had been.
Hah! I win! You had stuck your tongue out at him, parading the fact that you were finally better than Caleb the Cool Meanie.
I hate you, he blurted, stomping his feet straight to the big shed to pick up his rusty bike. And I don’t want to be your gege anymore!
At first, you had thought he was being dramatic. Every boy in your class couldn’t control their temper, so it made sense why Caleb would’ve lost his cool.
An hour of his silence turned into two.
There were no more episodes about teenage robot girls trying to fit into high school.
Grandma glanced worriedly at the phone. Grandpa reasoned that maybe he was at a diner cooling off, getting a milkshake on the house from the elderly waitress Lucy who was ever so fond of him.
One quick call to the diner—no, they hadn’t seen him.
He wasn’t at his best friend's house; Gideon’s mom didn’t see him ride down the road. The school attendant replied they didn’t see any sign of boys or bikes tearing across the field.
At that moment, it felt like your world was breaking apart at the seams.
Caleb, please come home, you had cried every night under your blankets. They had found his bike, but no Caleb. You can’t leave me alone like this—you can’t leave me, you dummy!
Even after grandpa passed on, and soon, grandma, they specifically stated in their will that they wanted to be laid next to his empty grave—to finally be reunited with the grandson they had believed to be dead for the past twenty over years.
And, here he is.
Tied up. Weary. Older.
Still Caleb.
The knife in your grip clatters onto the hardwood floor.
“No…”
Caleb lets you work through the emotions, the silence in this shed growing thick enough to cut with a blade.
Fear, confusion, anger, relief, worry, and elatedness coalesces over your face, your heart palpitating a mile a minute.
“… it can’t be.”
You drop to your knees in front of him. Gazing at him like he’s both a ghost, and a deity returned to the world.
“You… you’re alive?”
Caleb takes the opportunity to speak. “I am. It’s really me, Pips. Promise ya. You know I never break any of my promises.”
I promise you! His gap-toothed grin crosses your memories like an uninvited specter. When we grow up, I’ll marry you—no matter what Gran says!
“Caleb—”
He tries to catch you with his bound body as best as he can when you launch yourself towards him, arms fiercely wrapping around his neck and shoulders.
“Caleb. Oh, God. Caleb—”
You choke his name over and over again, as if saying it could make this moment feel less surreal.
His nose finds a home in your hair, his broad chest shuddering from the weight of scenting you again—peaches and vanilla.
Caleb never expected to have your fragrance stuck in his senses again, after years of being on the run in his hybrid form.
With a quick deftness that belies the tremble in your fingers, you untie him.
The second his bonds fall loose onto the hardwood floor, he’s gathering you in his strong arms. Kissing your forehead, nuzzling your shoulder.
It shouldn’t feel this bittesweet, but it does.
Unbidden, tears prick your eyes, and you sniffle.
“I thought you were gone—”
“I’m here now,” he interjects, shaking his head fiercely as his arms tighten around your quivering form. “I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere.”
In the silence that follows, the two of you don’t say a word.
After a few moments locked in each other’s arms, you help him stand. He’s still stark nude, and you try not to let your eyes stray over his toned physique.
It seems that years of running in his wolf-dog form made him leaner than string beef.
Hotter, too.
You try to not let your thoughts stray in that direction.
Caleb leans heavily on you when you lead him back to the farm cabin. He doesn’t complain when you give him some of Gramp’s old clothes to wear after his quick shower, or when you awkwardly tell him he can take your bed while you’ll tough it out on the cramped couch. Nuh-uh, he’d shake his head. You keep your bed, Pips. Don’t worry about me.
During dinner, you finally get the chance to ask him that had happened all those years.
Caleb swallows the dry bite of bread, chasing it with some ginger ale, before delving into his tale.
I was riding my bike when I felt someone knock me off—a sharp bite on my shoulder. I woke up hours later, stuck in my wolf-dog form, and that’s how I’ve been till recently. When someone taught me how to shapeshift back. It’s how I found you—I smelled you even before I saw ya.
You lean back, inudated by the weight of his truth.
“Caleb… you’re telling me… you’ve been stuck as a dog for years?”
He hears the heartbreak in your question, and reluctantly nods.
“I promise ya, I'm fine.” He slips on an easy grin. “I’m back now. And I’m not going anywhere so don’t you worry your pretty little head about me.”
He pauses, taking a moment to look you over. There’s a softened look in his eye, one that’s equal parts nostalgic and awed.
“You brushed up pretty well, huh, Pips?” His smile practically glows. “Gosh, you’re gorgeous. Gramps and Gran would’ve been so proud of you.”
His honest compliment takes you aback, and heat spreads across your cheeks.
“Shut it,” you scold, though you’re pleased he’s still giving you this kind of attention. “Flattery isn’t going to get you out of weeding duty tomorrow.”
He flashes you a wolfish grin.
“Cruel. But, also, valid. I’ll wake up bright and early—bushy-tailed as a squirrel for you.”
This time, Caleb learns to keep his promise.
Sometimes, you think it’s a miracle he’s home.
But, then you catch snatches of the wolf behind the man—bloody prints near the forest edge. A rabbit left on your doorstep with its neck brutally broken.
You try to forget—ignore it.
He’s home.
He’s home, and that’s all that matters.
Strangely enough, news of a strange, new man in town reaches the grapevine, though the other villagers don’t dare approach the topic with you outright. To them, you’re still that same strange city girl who rolled up to the valley a few months ago, taking over your Gramp’s farm, and trying to restore it back to its former glory.
And, Caleb… well. He’s a distraction.
When he isn’t flashing his abs at you when wiping the sweat bulleting down his forehead, he’s sprawled on your couch, too long legs dangling off the arm, chewing on the end of his pencil as he tries to re-train his limbs and fingers to write and draw.
Somedays, he’d take a train to the next town over and come back with new plane models he got from a vintage toy sale.
Other times, the two of you would lay on the carpeted floor in front of the fire, trading stories and lullabies like fool’s gold, trying to bridge the gap that time had so cruelly tore between the two of you.
Life’s pretty good.
As good as it can be.
Until, one day, Caleb starts his first rut.
You’re out of town for a bit, travelling to a nearby port city to drop off some rare seeds when he wakes up with that sticky heat clinging to his bones.
Caleb shudders, rolling over, promptly face-planting onto your living room floor.
“Pips?” He rasps, but no reply comes.
Groaning, Caleb rolls onto his side, trying to shake off the fog that descends over his mind.
But, it doesn’t work.
By the time mid-morning rolls around, he’s made a mess of your sheets, burying his nose face first in your pillows, jerking his sticky, red raw cock till he’s shooting strands onto your blanket.
The torture of waiting for you to come home is agonizing. Caleb pants, fisting the thick base of his rock hard length, and tugging it, pre dripping from the overstimulated tip and dribbling down his wrist. Whining like a dog in heat, he licks at his own desperation, rutting his cock against your pillow, lost in the heightened scent of peaches and vanilla filling his nose.
Fuck, fuck—
A swooping sensation fills his stomach, like a stone sinking in the middle of a lake.
He doesn’t know what he’ll do if you find him like this.
But, he can’t stop.
Fuelled by animal instincts, and his ardent, incessant need to breed.
Caleb’s eyes flutter shut, and he pictures you on your knees, tongue out, begging for his cum.
You on your hands and knees, taking his knot like a champ, chanting for more, more, more.
It will never be enough.
He can never get enough of you.
The hard lines of his abs contract, and he cries out as another orgasm crests, threatening to spill.
The wet schlick, schlick of his palm working his stiff and sticky pole is the only thing that fills the silence, besides his heavy pants.
Caleb’s brow furrows, teeth catching on his lower lip.
He’s so, so close—
He doesn’t notice when the front door unlocks, or when you stand by the foot of the bed, hands on your hips.
He yips when you grab his neck, holding him back like an errant, naughty puppy who was caught red-handed in destroying his owner’s things.
“Pipsq—”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Caleb groans, face bright red and hot. “It’s not what you think—”
But, even he knows that’s a weak excuse. Not when your sheets are sticky with his cum and he’s butt naked with your pillow between his thighs.
“I can explain—”
You groan, taking in the sight of your soiled sheets and bedspread.
“What the hell did you do?!”
God, please just let the earth suck me up, Caleb prays as he meets your incredulous stare. “I… I’m going through a rut, and… and I need your help.”
Neither of you expected that last sentence to leave his lips.
He said it like a prayer, beseeching you with those wide, pleading eyes.
You reluctantly let go of his neck, and take a step back. For a second, you don’t speak, gears in your brain turning.
“What do you mean… help?”
As if the answer couldn’t be obvious enough. He’s staring at you, hard on pressed against soft cotton, and bare except for his shirt riding up, exposing the tense sliver of his abdomen.
“You want me to help with your rut?”
You repeat the question, wondering if you misheard him.
Caleb swallows, and you follow the hard bob of his Adam’s apple.
“Yeah,” he mutters, shaky yet firm. “I want your help.”
Softly, he adds: “Please?”
Please. Caleb has never asked for your help before with such earnestness. It was always the other way around—you needing him more than he ever needed you.
But, this new Caleb—this new figure in your life—relied on you more, if not wholly on you.
From re-learning human etiquette to providing for him while he got on his feet after almost two decades in his four-legged form, you’re suddenly confronted by the startling revelation that he needs you.
And, god forbid it, you want him to need you.
Need it like you need air to breathe.
Your body moves before your mind can process what comes next.
You loom over him, spine taut, eyes like wildfire. Caleb tenses when your hand reaches out to stroke his dark hair, like an owner soothing their agitated puppy. After a few tense moments, he learns to relax in your touch, eyes falling shut.
Until you grab a fistful of his locks and yank.
Hard.
His yelp bounces across the room, the delicate line of his throat exposed to your biting teeth. He groans, eyelids fluttering shut when you work a mark into the pale hollow of his neck, moaning when you taste his sweat and desperation.
Caleb’s hips jerk up, sticky tip brushing your thigh when you kneel between his spread legs.
The bed dips, a rising humidity permeats the air, smelling of his pheromones and the prickle of sweat dampening the back of your neck.
Despite your outwardly cool demeanour, you have no idea what to do next.
But, he’s looking at you with those wide, piercing baby purples, and you can’t disappoint him.
Glancing at the blushing pink rod between his legs, you hesitate for only a moment, before wrapping your fingers around the girthy circumference of his cock.
Caleb hisses, eyes rolling back into his skull. He’s sensitive.
An easy win.
Even though he’s dumped half of his load on your bed, he still has a backlog of more to go.
Pinning him to the bed is easy enough. He melts under your touch, a rough whine escaping his throat.
“Take off your shirt.”
Your silky command shoots a bolt of heat straight up his spine.
Caleb obliges, if only to earn that small, smug smile etched on your lips. He grinds out your name when your hot lips wrap around one of his stiff nubs, biting down on it and running your teeth over the tender bud.
He hisses when you start to jerk him off, hips rutting against the tight circle of your fist.
"Nghh! Fuck—”
Caleb gasps.
“D-Don’t stop.”
You don’t plan to.
His back arches, spine supplicant, and pushes his stiff pole deeper into the warm clutch of your fingers as if he’s desperately trying to fuck into your pussy instead of your hand.
Heat pools in your core, hot and thick.
You don’t know what compels you to wrap your hand around his throat, and he lets you. Gives into your dominant touch like you’re the air he breathes and he needs to gulp you down.
He’s a dying man and you’re his oasis.
Strong hands reach out to grab your hips, dragging you on top of him.
You look down into his teary, pleading eyes.
“Don’t stare at me like that or else I’ll get the collar and leash.”
You threaten, meaning it as a joke.
But to your surprise (and fascinated horror), Caleb’s cock throbs against your inner thigh. Smearing your skin with another pearly drop.
He whines.
“Please?”
You gasp when he brings your hand to wrap around his throat again.
A dizzying spell nearly drags you under.
He’s pleading… for you to leash and collar him?
It’s too much.
Just a few minutes ago, you were out collecting forage and now you have an overgrown wolf-dog hybrid of a man lying on come-coated sheets, grinding on your thigh like you’re his saviour and master wrapped in one—begging to come undone by a dominance you’re not sure you can give.
But, it’s Caleb.
It’s your Caleb.
The man who did your pigtails for you before school started. Who taught you how to ride a bike before his disappearance. Stood up for you in school when bullies started getting bold. If you couldn’t do something this easy for him—
You steel your nerves.
Suck in a sharp breath.
And, leave the bed.
He whines, about to sit up and follow, but you shoot him a sharp, cold look.
“Stay there.”
Retrieving a thick leash and collar from an old trunk—meant for a husky you never got to adopt—you walk back into the cabin, finding him put just as you commanded.
Caleb eagerly lets you collar him, the dark leather a stark contrast around his neck.
He plays nice, letting you think you’re in control.
When you grind down on him, hitching the hem of your skirt up, you miss that dark glint in his eyes.
The one that promises of a retribution after he’s done tearing your walls down.
Caleb groans into your neck when you tug him closer by his leash, his hot breath puffing on your sensitive skin raising goosebumps down your arms. Like you’re stuck in his blood, your lover eats you up, mouth pressing hot kisses down your neck and shoulder, your scent burning hot through his nostrils.
He knows you’re wet.
Can feel you seeping through the pathetic barrier you call your lace panties.
The tips of his claws contract around your plush thighs.
Even collared and leashed, he can’t fight back the animal wanting to rise and claim you.
From straddling his thighs, you’re twisted on your back, the air knocked out from your lungs.
Above you, his silver-teeth smile cuts through the gathering dusk.
“I’m sorry,” he groans, leaning in to run his rough tongue over your pulse point. “But, I’ve been waiting for you for a lifetime, and I can’t wait any longer.”
To your horror, sharp claws tear your clothes away. Leaving them scraps fluttering onto the cabin bedroom floor.
Caleb grunts when he holds you down, the leash you put on him dangling uselessly in your face.
“Caleb, no—”
Your hands, feeble, weak—human—try to push him away to slow him down.
But, he’s relentless, gathering your wrists and pinning them above your head. Caleb snarls, hot and acrid, and spreads your thighs wider with his other clawed hand. In this light, he looks more beast than man, and when his teeth sink into your shoulder, your cry mingles with his muffled howl—and you know.
You know he’s not in his right mind.
That he might hurt you.
So, why aren’t you afraid?
Crowding you onto the bed with his much larger frame, he groans, licking the shell of your ear.
“I’m sorry,” he chants, over and over again as he lines up his cock to your entrance. “I tried to fight it off—” The two of you gasp when his plump, swollen tip breaches your folds. “—but I can’t.”
His apologies peter out into a pathetic whine.
“I need you,” he licks a strip from your neck to your jaw. “I always did. Always. You make me human—”
“Caleb, stop!”
He isn’t fazed by your denial—your insistence on pushing him away when it’s obvious the two of you need each other. He can smell it in your pulse, in the blood rushing south and secreting your pheromones and wetness into the sheets, the maddening scent of you wafting through the air like siren song.
Forgive him. Forgive him for what he’s about to do—
“I’m sorry—”
The pain from his teeth sinking into your shoulder to leave behind his mark makes you scream loud enough to shake the windows.
Pain—hot, unadulterated pain—seeps through your skin, burning like a thousand cuts by glass shard.
“NO—!”
Your scream is cut off by his lips smothering yours. Caleb lets you bite down on his lower lip—hard enough for you to taste his blood.
Just when you think it’s too much—that you can’t take anymore of the agony any longer—it fades abruptly. Replaced by a simmering heat that’s rising into a dull, aching throb between your legs. Without noticing what he’s done, you’re stretched out around him, his cock settling into you to the hilt.
He’s still, licking at the mark he created on your shoulder.
You want to scream at him. Curse his name to the high heavens.
But, he’s dragged you down to hell and you seem to be enjoying it.
An experimental roll of your hips. Caleb curses into your neck.
“Pips, if you keep this up—”
You grow bold enough to yank his leash, cutting off his words.
"Just shut up and fuck me.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice.
Caleb sets a rhythm that has your entire body quaking, your nails stabbing into the blankets.
He’s relentless. Unforgiving.
Every bruising snap his hips batters your cervix, and the pain should’ve turned you off, but instead you’re soaking up the sheets under you even more.
It’s lewd. Shameful.
It’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more.
Throwing back to meet him in the middle. The hot, fat tip of his cock catches on your slippery entrance. He cusses, low and hoarse, grasping the base of his enormous prick and swirling the sticky head on your clit, slapping it against the tender nub.
Twack. Twack.
“You’re close,” he pants into your ear, slipping back into your shivering walls.
The sharp nails of his claws tickle the underside of your breast. He pinches one nipple hard enough to make you squeal.
Caleb’s spittle lands on your shoulder, his tongue quick to lap it back up.
“Gonna fill you with my pups,” he groans, rutting his hips harder. The bed creaks under his relentless thrusts. “Make you all round and full and glowing with so many babies you’ll have your hands full with ‘em.”
He growls, the idea of you pregnant and glowing because of him, makes him throb harder.
Close to spilling.
You’re no better.
Arching your back, yowling like a cat in heat.
His brand shines on your shoulder, a gleaming medallion of his claiming.
Caleb can’t stop nuzzling his bite mark on your skin. Licking at it.
He’s no better than a rutting, panting dog eager to breed its mate.
The leash in your hand becomes an anchor rather than a deterrent to his actions.
A sign than even though he wears your collar and lets you tug on the leather strap when your body heaves in pleasure, it’s him who’s in control and not the other way around.
He’ll always have the upper hand. Always.
Ever since the two of you were kids, ever since he’s proclaimed himself as your protector.
That he’s stronger than you, faster than you, bigger than you—Caleb remains at the top.
Your lover, friend, and brother figure all in one.
His hands continue to roam down your body, sharp claws catching on your skin.
Faint lines throb and snake your skin, indents of where he had gripped too hard. Bruises from his kisses paint your back and the sensitive strip of your neck.
He’s leaving his mark on you every way that he can.
The rough, linen blanket rasps roughly against your tight buds and clit, adding another layer of sensation bringing you closer to your reckoning.
Let go, he murmurs into your hair.
Let go and come for me.
The order is implicit—let go and be mine.
You do.
And, you do it beautifully.
Caleb grasps you by the neck, tipping your head up to swallow your hot moans as your body tightens around his.
“That’s it,” he growls, snaking a hand between your thighs to beat you off while you convulse and shake around him. “Come for me—show me who this sweet body belongs to.”
Without a shred of shame, you wail: “You!”
The deal is sealed.
Your body is now his to own, protect and play with.
In a strange, ritualistic mating sense, you’re his.
Whatever forces turned him into a dog hybrid have snared you in their trap, bound to his side as his mate for life.
Caleb already knew this. You’re just starting to find out.
What happens next is a blur: Hours of being folded and fucked in multiple different positions. Till evening turns to night and you’re delirious and begging for him to slow down.
Caleb relents, only half-heartedly, grabbing your hips and stilling for a second so you can catch your breath.
“You still with me, Pips?”
Barely, is what you wanted to answer him. Instead, you groan.
He gazes down at you—sweat-slicked, hair mused, body trembling.
A flash of masculine pride runs down his spine.
He’s wrecked you real good and he’s not afraid to do it again.
Turning you on your back, he’s gentle this time when he slides back in; your body loosened and slippery enough for him to settle to the hilt without much resistance.
The leather strip of the leash dangles over your face, and tiredly, you tug it to pull his face closer.
Caleb chuckles against your lips at your messy, needy kiss.
“Talk to me—you up for another round?”
Your answer is another soft groan. “… are you trying to make me paralyzed from the waist-down?”
That gets an unexpected bark of laughter from him.
"S’not that bad—”
“Look,” you whine and point to your toes. “I can’t even wiggle them!”
Caleb chuckles indulgently and leans in to boop your nose with his. “Drama queen.”
You scoff. “Am not—”
Your argument catches in the back of your throat when he starts to move again. Just like before, he claims you thoroughly, till only his name lingers on your lips.
As night falls and the valley goes to sleep, Caleb finally loses steam and slumps on top of you.
His large, warm hand sweeps across your belly, bulging slightly from the weight of his come, and he presses a tired kiss to the crook of your neck.
“You’re amazing.”
“And, you’re a beast,” you murmur, eyes sticky with fatigue.
He chuckles and kisses your cheek. “Guilty as charged, Pips. Now,” he gently disentangles you from under him, tugging close to his chest where his warmth and comfort permeates your weary bones.
“—go to sleep. I’ll be here when the sun rises.”
A promise from before, when you thought he would never leave you; now one that he fully intends to keep for the rest of his days:
“I promise you’ll see me every day when you wake up.”
Oh my god yes? The plot was so good made me feel like I was reading an actual skinwalker story in the beginning the horror elements definitely stood out in the best way and I love how they didn’t go away completely they only settled SO GOOD
Thinking abt Xavier who sets up a movie night for the two of you.
There’s a sequel to one of your favorite movies that just came out and you finally had time off to watch it with him. He’d taken you out to dinner and brought you back to his apartment.
The coffee table was littered with your favorite snacks and candies and the couch had blankets folded up neatly for you to use. He’d picked the ones you took a liking to whenever you’d visit him. The windows were cracked and the crisp night breeze cooled the room.
He’d set the movie on the tv and gave you the volume remote to adjust to your liking. It was smooth sailing from there…
…except he wasn’t watching the movie. He was more concerned with gliding his fingers through the sloppy crevice of your cunt. His fingers make a filthy squelch as he dips the tips of them into your aching hole, trailing them all the way back to circle your puffy clit.
“Xavier—Xavier please!” You’d cry out to him. But his slow and thorough pace was unrelenting.
“Watch the movie.” He’d say coolly, but his body betrays him when you squirm in his lap, your hips catching his raging boner in a way that makes him sigh heavily into your ear. He wraps an arm around your front and your back presses against his chest in an attempt to keep you from fidgeting. “Be good and stay still.”
Men who get extremely hard when you take care of them, but are chewing them out in the process
He’s nodding his head as you’re telling him to take better care of himself, but his bruised lips are coming closer to yours and his hand is sneaking its way up your shirt.
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