#Lads caleb

[hello-lumi]

cuteness aggression

[solifloris]

if they wont give us a transparent kittyleb then I'LL DO IT MYSELF

[danijaci]

I've always wantedd to draw caleb :>>>>

[dollyswishingwell]

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Insatiable

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ Fluff, smut (not a lot), this would be me yall, ovulating rn fr, who wants this but roles reversed

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ You simply can’t keep your hand to yourself

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Rafayel hadn’t painted in days.

Not because he didn’t want to, but because every time he even tried to so much as touch a brush, a certain beautiful menace was dragging him right back into the bedroom by the collar like a starved kitten with her favorite toy.

His poor shirt was buttoned wrong. His once pristine neck was painted in lipstick marks and bitten raw with hickeys shaped like little hearts. His mouth was kiss-swollen, glossy, and parted slightly as he leaned dizzily against the hallway wall, blinking at you like a drunk man seeing God.

“You’re so sexy,” you purr as you press against him, tracing the line of his jaw with your glossed-up finger. “I can’t help it, Raffy. You just exist and I go stupid.”

“I’m the one who’s gone stupid,” he breathes, voice breaking with a soft giggle as your kisses trail down his throat. “Pretty… crazy… wife, stealing my soul every hour on the hour like it’s your little job or something…”

And oh, you did treat it like a job. Like a full-time, salaried position with benefits and paid leave you’d never take. You’d strut around the estate in your little silk robe and thigh-high socks, looking every bit like a forbidden painting, before grabbing him by the shirt and dragging him off again with a wicked grin.

“You’re literally glowing,” you coo, nose brushing against his cheek as you admire your latest work, him. “Look at you. Covered in my kisses. I’m so proud. You’re such a good boy~”

“Nngh—” Raf’s knees buckle.

He slumps into your arms, completely pliant, like you’ve melted every one of his bones with love. His purple lashes flutter, and a dreamy pink tinge sits high on his cheeks.

“My beautiful wife thinks I’m sexy…” he whispers like he’s about to start sobbing. “I’m never recovering from this…”

You tug him close, letting him sink into your arms as you back into the bedroom again, for the fifth time this afternoon.

“Shhh, you don’t need to recover, raffy,” you whisper against his mouth. “You just need to lie back and let me show you how much I love your stupidly perfect body.”

The door clicks shut.

His palette stays untouched. His shirt stays halfway unbuttoned. And the only brush that sees use tonight… is the one tangled in your hair as he whines your name against the sheets, dizzy on your love.

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

Zayne was a mess.

Not in the way most people would ever see. Oh no, publicly, he was still Dr Zayne: the cold, composed, genius heart surgeon. Not a strand of black hair out of place, not a single button undone. Calm. Elegant. Untouchable.

But privately?

Privately he was currently standing in the master bedroom with his tie yanked loose, shirt unbuttoned halfway down, and covered in so many lipstick kisses it looked like you’d stamped him into a love letter.

He leaned one hand on the doorframe for balance, panting softly, collar tugged and wrinkled from where you’d dragged him inside yet again.

“…Sweetheart.” His voice was hoarse. “I have patients to check in on.”

“Nope,” you hummed, already circling him like a little spoiled lioness in silk and perfume. “You’re my patient now. And you’re staying in bed until I say you’re discharged.”

Zayne blinked slowly, like his brain was still buffering from your kisses. His tie slipped from his neck entirely. His hands were on your waist before he could even think.

“You’re addicted,” he murmured, but his voice was low and warm, full of amusement and just the slightest tremble of surrender.

“You’re the one who walks around this house in tight black shirts like a walking wet dream,” you purred, fingers tracing down his abs like he was sculpted marble. “I told you I married you for your body, doctor.”

“…You married me because I own five estates, pay your credit cards off before you even check them, and give you four-hour back massages when you throw tantrums.”

“And also because your V-line is actually life-ruining,” you whisper against his skin before planting yet another lipstick-stained kiss just above his waistband.

Zayne groaned softly. His eyes fluttered half-lidded as he let you press him back against the bed, his gorgeous, sharp-featured face already dazed. There were kiss marks on his hips now. On his collarbone. On the inside of his wrist where you bit down gently just to hear him exhale.

“You’re…unbelievable,” he muttered, voice cracking faintly as you straddled him.

“Mmhm.” You smiled sweetly. “But you love it.”

“…Unfortunately.”

He was so gone for you. Even as his toned arms lay limp against the pillows, even as his body was flushed and marked and glowing under the soft bedroom light, he still looked at you like he couldn’t believe he got to keep you.

And when you leaned down and whispered, “Gonna ride my sexy husband like it’s a sport,” Zayne swore under his breath, caught your hips, and dragged you down hard, like he wasn’t the one who needed a break from you.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Xavier didn’t know what time it was.

He was shirtless, breathless, and leaning against the plush velvet headboard like he’d just been gently murdered, his silver hair mussed beyond repair and his elegant neck covered in pink-gloss lip prints and fluttery love bites. The silk sheets were halfway down his waist, revealing the faintest trace of toned abs and flushed skin from yet another… session.

He blinked slowly as you crawled up his body again like a smug little kitten, still glowing, still in that ridiculous frilly negligee he’d bought you just to see you ruin it.

“Starlight…” His voice was low, dazed. “You pulled me in here… five times today.”

“Because you’re the prettiest thing in this entire penthouse,” you coo, kissing under his jaw. “And because I’m addicted to my beautiful husband. Do you want me to stop?”

His arms immediately wrap around your waist, possessive and needy even in his exhaustion.

“…No.”

You giggle and start kissing a new trail across his collarbone, admiring your work. His skin is pale and smooth, your lipstick imprinted all over him like you’d stamped him as your personal property.

He watches you with half-lidded, adoring blue eyes, high on your touch and murmuring things like:

“You’re insane…”

“You keep marking me like a wolf in heat…”

“…I love it.”

His long fingers trail up your thigh lazily, a soft smirk playing on his lips despite how flushed and breathless he is.

“You think I’m sexy?” he whispers, a little teasing, a little desperate.

You pause, eyes widening slightly like he just said the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard. You grab his face with both hands.

“Xavier,” you say, deadly serious. “I think you’re the sexiest man alive. I think you’re so hot it should be criminal. I think you were genetically engineered to ruin me.”

“…Okay.” He swallows. “I’m going to cry now.”

He actually does look like he might, his ears go a little pink and he hides his face in your neck, letting out a muffled groan as you stroke his silver hair and hum softly.

You’re not sure how long you lay there cuddling, but the second you so much as shift your hips,

He flips you under him.

“…One more,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours. “For science. For your addiction.”

And just like that, your sexy, sleepy, otherworldly husband is back in action, completely high on your love, his toned body shivering under your touch, whispering against your lips like a prayer:

“Keep calling me sexy. I’ll never get tired of it…”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

Sylus looked like he’d just walked off the cover of a scandalous magazine, shirt half open, silver hair tousled to hell, red eyes heavy-lidded and dazed, his pale skin littered in deep wine-colored love bites and obscene lipstick prints that trailed all the way from his collarbones down past his abs.

He sat back on the edge of the bed with a lazy smirk and a hand in his hair, exhaling a breathy little laugh like he couldn’t believe what just happened.

Again.

You were already crawling into his lap again.

“Kitty,” he murmured, amused. “I’ve got six missed calls. Three international meetings. A contract waiting to be signed. And here you are… pulling me back into bed for the fourth time in a row.”

“You look too good to ignore,” you say sweetly, arms looped around his neck. “Your body makes me feral, Sylus. You want me to just not jump you every hour? That’s unrealistic. Be serious.”

His eyes crinkle faintly with laughter, head tilting slightly as he studies you with that sharp, slow-burning gaze of his.

“You’re obsessed.”

You hum, nuzzling into his chest. “You made me like this. With your stupid abs. And that sexy little vein on your forearm. And your voice. And the way you look at me when you’re about to ruin my life.”

“Is that so?” His voice dips low, velvety and smug. “Because I’m the one covered in gloss and claw marks, kitten.”

He glances down at the state of himself, shirt wrinkled, belt unbuckled, skin decorated in possessive little reminders of your obsession, and lets out a pleased sound, like your addiction entertains him.

“You’ve been dragging me by the tie into the bedroom like a starving wife with a rich, sexy trophy husband,” he muses. “You want me that badly, huh?”

You climb into his lap fully, pressing a line of kisses up his throat.

“I want you all the time,” you whisper. “I want you spoiled, smug, and shirtless. I want you dizzy and wrecked and begging me not to kiss you again, and then still moaning when I do.”

He stares at you for a beat. Then lets out the lowest, filthiest chuckle.

“God, I love you.”

You grin as he pulls you down again, flat against the mattress, his hands already slipping under your silk slip.

And as he kisses you, slow, possessive, devastating, you feel him murmur against your lips with that teasing, breathy tone of his:

“Next time you drag me in here like that, at least let me close the damn door.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

Colonel Caleb was wrecked.

His dark brown hair was tousled from where you’d been tugging at it, his uniform shirt was halfway off, gold buttons undone and hanging off one shoulder, and his neck and chest were littered in bright pink lipstick kisses and faint purple bite marks. The top of his black undershirt was soaked in your gloss from where you’d kissed him through the fabric just to be dramatic.

He leaned heavily against the wall outside the bedroom, blinking like he’d just emerged from an oxygen-deprived fever dream.

You peeked your head around the corner, grinning sweetly.

“There you are!” you chimed, grabbing him by the collar. “Round five.”

Caleb flinched. Physically flinched. The collar of his once-pristine Fleet uniform was already stretched from being yanked on all day.

“Baby,” he said, voice hoarse and barely holding it together. “I can’t feel my legs. I, my whole body’s shaking. You’ve been dragging me back into the bedroom every hour like you’re on a mission.”

You beamed up at him with glossy lips and a wink. “That’s because I am. Operation: Ruin My Sexy Caleb.”

“…You need supervision,” he muttered, cheeks slightly flushed, glancing down at the mess you made of him.

“Mm-mm.” You tugged him close, palms flat against his bare chest. “What I need is your stupid hot body inside me again. You’re so big and strong and mean-looking but you fall apart the second I kiss your tummy, and it’s just so cute, I can’t stop.”

His entire body locked up.

“…Stop saying things like that with a straight face, Pips.”

You tilted your head innocently. “But it’s true. You’re my beautiful husband and I’m addicted to you. Look at you. All marked up and dizzy and mine.”

He tried to be grumpy, he really did. But the moment your fingers traced down his abs, his knees gave just slightly and he cursed under his breath.

“I was in a meeting,” he muttered. “Now I’m in your mouth.”

“You’re welcome.”

You grabbed him by the waistband, giggling like a spoiled brat dragging her favorite toy back to her castle. Caleb just sighed and followed, completely under your spell, his rough soldier hands already sliding around your waist.

“Y’know,” he murmured as you pushed him down onto the bed again, “when we first moved into this penthouse, I thought I was locking you up.”

You straddled him, planting another kiss on his cheek with a dramatic mwah and a fresh lipstick print.

“Oopsie. Looks like I’m the one keeping you in bed now, Colonel.”

“…Yeah.” His voice cracked softly. “And I love it.”

And with that, your big, scary Colonel husband, blushing and covered in kiss marks, let out a groan of surrender and let you ruin him all over again.

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being Caleb's non-mc significant other. Alpha/Omega verse.

Imagine the Skyheaven Academy was filled with steel towers and crystalline skies. A sanctuary for the elite, soldiers, empaths, and psychics. It was a place for ascension, both in rank and social standing.

Imagine, somewhere among these floating island and shining uniforms, you found love in the most unexpected place. One of the academy's strongest Alpha, Caleb.

Imagine, Caleb wasn't just admired, he was respected. His psychic resonance cut through space like gravity, his instincts honed with near animalistic precision. He was a living symbol of dominance and control.

Imagine and yet he chose you. You, with no second gender. No heat. No scent. No place in the primal biological dance of Alpha and Omega.

Imagine you always thought his love would be enough to silence the whispers behind your back. That it would shield you from the subtle rejections at formal events, the way professors avoided eye contact when grading your reports, the way other Omegas stared at you with sympathy or worse, disdain.

but Imagine the one you could never win over was Caleb's mother. She never raised her voice. She didn't need to. Her disdain was precise, venom hidden beneath the silk. She once told you with a smile that your love was "Admirable" like a child playing dress-up in the clothes of something sacred.

Imagine you kept it together. You always did. For Caleb. But the night you asked him.

"If I were an Omega, would things be different?" His silence spoke louder than any betrayal. He didn't say yes. But he didn't say no either. That's when the crack in your heart began.

Imagine it happened during Skyheaven's lunar convergence. When psychic storms made it dangerous to suppress instincts. The Academy called it "Resonance Week." For most Alphas and Omegas, it was treated with caution. For you and Caleb, it was a test.

Imagine walking in, and the person you love doesn't see you.

Imagine it wasn't because he forgot you.But because instinct buried everything else.

Imagine the door wasn't locked. That should've been the first sign. You stepped into his quarters, fresh from drills, still half in uniform. You thought he might be resting. Maybe already asleep. You thought he might smile when he saw you. But he didn’t.

Imagine the air was thick. Too warm. Mixed with something unfamiliar. And then you saw her. The Omega. Not just any Omega. Perfect. Engineered. Glowing with heat and pheromones like honey and wildfire. And in front of her was Caleb.

Imagine his eyes were dilated. Chest rising and falling like he couldn't breathe. Shoulders shaking under the weight of instincts barely held back.

Imagine you call out his name once. Soft. He didn't hear it. You said it again, louder this time. And then again, a crack in your voice could be heard this time. Still nothing.

Imagine his whole body was just facing the Omega. Tension in every line of muscle. His hands clenched, then flexed, then reached forward.

"Caleb." You snapped. "Don't." That got his attention. But not like you hoped. He turned toward you. And for a second. Just for a second his eyes flashed with something animal. Not recognition. Not love. Threat. Then he lunged.

Imagine the moment he did that, you didn't think. You moved. You threw yourself between them. And it all happened too fast.

Imagine he hit you. Not a punch, not violent. But a shove so forceful it knocked the air from your lungs and sent your back into the wall. Your shoulder cracked against it. Pain spread down your arm.

Imagine Omega flinched behind you. Their scent flared. You stood again anyway, shaking and gasping. "Caleb. Look at me." Your voice broke. "It's me." And finally... Finally his eyes focused. Just a little.

Imagine could see the war inside him. Recognition crawling its way up through instinct. Through scent. Through everything screaming in his blood to claim the person behind you instead.

Imagine his body was trembling. He took a step forward again and you braced yourself. Not because you thought he'd hurt you. But because the truth already had. He wanted you gone. Not Caleb. The Caleb you knew wouldn't. But this thing inside him.

Imagine reaching out, hand against his chest, just over his heart. "Don't do this." You whispered, almost crying.

Imagine the way he twitched like it burned him. But just then was when the security team burst in. It happened do fast. The suppressants hitting him like ice water and he collapsed to his knees. Gasping. Clawing at the floor. His breath caught on sobs he wasn't fully conscious of.

Imagine all you could do was watch. You didn't go to him. You couldn't. Because it hurt. It hurts to see the person you trusted more than anything fall apart like that. Not because he stopped loving you. But because he couldn't even see you through the fog of what he was born to be.

Imagine as you stood still as they carried him away. The Omega too. Quiet. Unshaken. But no one looked at you. After all you weren't the one he tried to touch.

Imagine later on as you sat by his unconscious figure at the infirmary, they would call it an unfortunate misunderstanding. They'd tell you it wasn't his fault. That it was just biology. Stress. Poor timing.

Imagine you understand but none of that really mattered. Because for those few minutes... You were invisible. And love, the thing you built together so carefully broke under instincts weight. Not with a scream. Not with a goodbye. Just a shove. And silence.

Imagine wanting to scream. You wanting to stay. But more than anything, you wanted to believe that what you had could survive biology, tradition, and the crushing weight of instinct.

but Imagine, love doesn't erase the truth. It just delays it.

My love, Caleb,

I loved you fiercely and I never wanted to leave. But I saw it, what lives in you. What wakes when you're vulnerable. What you were built to be.

It's not your fault. This world was made for Alphas and Omegas, and I was foolish enough to think we could rewrite it.

You once told me I was your anchor. But I think I was just a rope tied to a storm.

When you wake up, please don’t come looking for me. Let this be mercy, not abandonment.

Yours, once.

Imagine, you left that night. Going through Skyheaven Academy gates unnoticed. Behind you, the sky burned with silver, and the man you loved slept alone, still dreaming of you. But dreams like love are fragile things in a world built on instinct.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

[calebslver]

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ovulating with caleb <3

💭 : p in v , overstimulation , fem!reader , praise , improper use of evol , squirting , messy sex , marathon sex , it’s ovulation week girls !! ^^

caleb knew how you got during ovulation week. one glance at his biceps, arms, or chest, and you’re looking at him with those eyes that are practically begging him to fuck you until you pass out.

and right now? you were looking at him with the same eyes. which is how you got led here. pinned down. drooling from both lips. being stretched out by a cock that was close to splitting you in half. “good girl,” caleb panted, sweat dripping from his temple.

his large form leaned over you, chest pressing against your legs in the meanest, most perfect mating press. his cock was hitting your g-spot repeatedly, drawing out more and more high, dumbed out moans from your puffy lips. he knew it too. oh, caleb knew how good you felt. to your fucked out facial expression to how your pussy is covering his cock whole.

“such a pretty—hah—pussy. god, she missed me, huh? suckin’ me in—all greedy,” he blabbered into your ear, the tone of his voice making you clench around his cock hard. you couldn’t even understand what he was saying—your brain was turning into mush, drooling from your panting mouth.

slurred words caleb didn’t even try to understand came out of your mouth as you went cross eyed, turning louder and louder. “ca—caleb! close, mph, ‘m close!” you whined and the man above you grinned. it felt like his thrusts got harder, faster and he pushed against your legs until they almost met your ears. “yeah? is my dumb baby close? i bet she is. ‘could feel this pussy clenching—i know her like the back of my hand.”

your gut coiled up into something you can’t explain and you blubbered nonsense, tears swelling in your eyes as you tensed. a few more thrusts—one, two, three—until you came with a scream.

except you didn’t cum. no, instead, you squirted. a wet splash and his abdomen, balls, and cock were covered in your juices. “holy—fuck—did you just squirt—” he let out a surprise gasp and your own pleasure triggered his own. he didn’t even have time to warn you before he toppled over, weight against your chest as he shot load after load into your wet heat.

you let out a mewl, too filled with ecstasy to hear hear caleb moan and groan about how “it’s so much”, and how he “can’t stop”. you felt filled to the brim, caleb’s thick cum seeping out of your well-stretched hole as his cock came to a stop. “fuck, thank you, baby. you did so good, so perfect.”

[kiplex]

You hated parties. They were loud, overstimulating, and there were too many strangers. So when Gideon invited you and Caleb to a party he was having you were hesitant to say the least. You thought having your boyfriend there, your emotional support Caleb, you would be fine; especially once you had a little bit of alcohol in your system. But alas, the universe has a different plan for tonight.

You're three cups of something deep, probably some vodka and a splash of juice, and glued to the side of the wall which were vibrating with how loud the music was, the hum of people yelling over the music certainly wasn't helping. Caleb was god knows where, the second you guys got to the party Gideon whisked him away to go take shots with him and some of the guys they went to college with. Your finger drums a consistent beat against your red plastic cup, your eyes scan the room for any sign of him. Sure, you could go and talk to people, mingle a bit but… Something in your stomach lurches at the thought of doing that.

You take another small sip. You pull out your phone check to the time. “You're Colonel Xia's girlfriend right?" Someone shouts to your left. He looked about the same age as Caleb. “Ah! Yeah! Yeah I am." Your voice wobbles, slightly startled. “Man, he is one lucky guy. I was assigned to his fleet shortly after he took over." The man extends his hand offering his name, that you definitely don't catch. Instead you politely smile, shaking his hand and yelling your name back over the music.

He starts going on and on about fleet stuff, with the amount of liquor in your body you really can't make heads or tails of it, you just politely nod. He wasn't a bad guy or anything, you just clearly were uncomfortable and didn't want to be there. When you feel a hand wrap around your waist, you nearly jump ten feet in the air. “Woah woah! Pips, it's me." Caleb's voice is soft in your ear. Your whole body immediately relaxes into his touch. “Oh Colonel! Good to see you off duty." The man you're talking to acknowledges his superior. “Good to see you too, if you don't mind I'm gonna steal her away for a bit." Caleb smiles at the man. You are always in awe of how charming and charismatic Caleb is naturally. He makes it look effortless.

The man nods, and Caleb grabs your wrist taking you to a free spot farther down the wall. His body blocks your view of the crowd, his cologne flooding your senses calming your nervous system down exponentially. " You okay pretty girl?” He asks, his hands cupping your cheeks intentionally making you maintain eye contact with him. Regardless you down cast your eyes. " I'm fine.” You answer, not wanting to ruin this night for him.

He rarely gets time off, let alone gets to spend it with his friends. His eyebrows furrow. " No you aren't.” He sighs, pulling you against his chest before wrapping his arms around you. " Pips, I've known you, your whole life. I know when you're lying to me.” He kisses the top of your head. " Let me ask you again. Are you okay?” He repeats gently. You shake your head no into his chest. "Not really, it's loud and I'm a little tipsy and… I'm sorry Caleb." Your eyes gloss over slightly, tears threatening to spill over.

He pulls you back a bit so he can look at you. “Aw you sweet girl, don't apologize. You've never really been big on this stuff. I'm proud of you for even tagging along with me. Even Gideon was singing praises about you being here tonight… I mean I did shove him for talking about my girlfriend like that, but semantics.” You giggle slightly.

Caleb kisses your forehead. " Do you wanna get the hell out of here?" He asks, grinning at you. “Are you sure? I know you don't get to do this often…" You mumble. He smiles, shaking his head. “I already got to hang out with Gideon for a while, besides my girlfriend is clearly overstimulated and trying to be brave for me. That's my job Pips, how dare you steal my thunder." He squeezes you slightly. You lean up kissing him gently. “Let's go home." He grabs your hand again, leading you through the sea of people out the door. “Oh also, if I see you talking to another man at a party again I won't be so kind next time, I can promise you that. " You roll your eyes, a dumb smile on your face. If you're being honest, you wouldn't have it any other way.

You can find my master list here

[apple-crunch]

Caleb twt links 🔞 — ! acc must be logged in !

⌗ CALEB

. . . he's definitely the type of guy to fuck you deep and hard, making sure that you feel all inches of his dick inside of you

. . . as much as he hates being away from you, he just can't help but love how clingy and needy you get for him when he returns

. . . you just won't tell him what he wants to hear so he has no choice but to break you:( making use of military grade cuffs he just so happened to have laying around

. . . you're just so greedy! you already have the real thing but still keep the fake one with you... since you can't seem to be satisfied, why not fill both holes?

. . . why not make good use of your toys by stretching you good and open before he actually fucks you with his dick? just have to stand there and take it

. . . you put so much effort for his birthday that he can't help but just take you on the couch! too horny and rilled up from all the waiting he'd done

. . . one of the gifts caleb specifically requested from you was to make a compilation of you fucking so he can have something to jerk off to will he's away! the website just isn't doing it anymore for him after he's had you

. . . he sounds so pretty and lovely <3 all tied up and helpless, at the mercy of your mere hands just as always, letting you have your way knowing he can just break free whenever he wants to

. . . something about seeing you all shaky underneath him as he continues to fuck you slowly knowing damn well how overstimulated you are

. . . sometimes all he needs is a good riding to calm his mind from all the stress he gets, being a colonel isn't easy after all

. . . his favourite food above anything and everything, he needs your weight above him while he indulges your yummy pussy

. . . it's not too bad if it doesn't go in right? maybe if he just takes his dick out.. and maybe if you just put your panties to the side..

. . . all leaky and creamy on him, oh you're like a broken sink, too horny to even fully take your panties off that he just rips it in half

. . . oh he loooovesssss taking you from behind, pinning your waist down so you can take him as deep as possible!

. . . kissing his cheek on his graduation in front of hundreds of people? and getting away with it? absolutely not

[ A/N : feel free to imagine as the other lads boys ;) ]

[cosmiquenotes]

LADS GUYS WHEN YOU'RE DRUNK

im back and inspired!!!! hope you enjoy these ilysm mwah

contains suggestive content, not really nsfw

[deepspace-scenarios]

Hi! I just saw a girl do this on tiktok on her actual husband so I thought, what about the Lads men’s reactions too lol. Mc wearing a backless nightgown (it’s like just straps in the back so your ass would be fully exposed but it’s a normal nightgown infront so it’s kind of unexpected when you turn around)

[scenario/drabble] less = more

Summary: LIs react when you surprise them with a spicy nightgown. Some are flustered, some take it in stride, but all of them love it (a bit too much).

Genre: fluff, TW: Suggestiveness (spicy but still borderline sfw)

SYLUS

You slip into the nightgown, the silk soft and cool against your front as you wait in the dim bedroom, purposely angling yourself slightly away from the door so he'd have a glimpse of your back when he enters the room.

Well, probably more than a glimpse since the nightgown has a total of five spaghetti straps making up the entire fabric of the back panel.

Sylus steps inside, leather jacket in the crook of his elbow. Then he freezes, his crimson eyes dragging down your body slowly. "Ah. This is why you texted me about ‘going to bed early’."

He prowls closer, tracing a finger along the straps at your back, from the top of your spine slowly downwards. His smirk grows when he hears your breath hitch, and his hand doesn't stop trailing down until he reaches the hem of the dress.

"Saw the transaction on my card. Thought you’d bought some jewellery, but this is a far more interesting choice."

His palm settles on your waist, possessive yet still. "Do you want me to ruin you in this?"

His low voice sends a hot, sharp curl of desire through you, and you fight the instinct to let out a whimper.

“Hm,” You say with faux bravado as you run a finger along the collar of his shirt, knowing full well that he can see right through your act. But you know he'll gladly play along, so you slide your finger down his chest. “You can surprise me, Mr Boss-Man,”

He chuckles as he leans down. When his teeth graze your shoulder, you finally, finally let out a shaky gasp.

"Good. Because I will."

_____

XAVIER

The fight sequence in the movie is still playing in the background when you return from your "bathroom break”, now in a gauzy blue nightgown instead of your loungewear.

“Xavi, look!” You twirl around, turning to strut to the end of the living room like a model would. You pause at the curtains, turning to face him again.

Xavier blinks, his blue eyes widening at the barely-there back of your nightgown.

"That’s… not fair," he breathes, setting the remote down with shaky hands.

You wink playfully at him, ducking behind the curtains- but you see him surge up before the heavy fabric blocks your view. In less than a blink, he's right in front of you and backing you against the window.

"Hiding from me now? I thought you wanted something from me," His voice is rough, lips skimming your jaw.

"Do you want the whole city to see?" He asks, hands bracketing your hips. The glass is cool against your back, his body searing in contrast.

He nips your earlobe, then presses his lips the pulse point along your neck.

“Xavi-” you gasp, gripping his arms.

"Choose. Or else I'm not going to wait any longer."

_____

ZAYNE

Zayne steps out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist.

He almost jumps when he sees you sitting on the edge of the bed, back turned towards him with the flimsy, open back of the nightgown on full display.

"I-" He turns abruptly, clearing his throat. "My love, I thought the surprise you mentioned was about the dinner reservation."

You turn to look at him, letting the straps catch the light.

"A harmless misunderstanding, Zaynie,” you tease, kicking your feet almost innocently as you take in his flushed complexion. “To make it even… it's your turn to surprise me,"

For a heartbeat, he hesitates. Then he crosses the room in a few quick strides and pulls you up against his chest, his mouth crashing onto yours.

"Your invitation," he growls, pressing his forehead on yours as he shuts his eyes, grappling with composure that's already slipping away fast. "Is dangerous."

You melt against him when his hand skims up from the back of your thighs, all the way up to your back.

“Exclusively for you,” you murmur, reaching up to brush your thumb across his pink cheek and feeling him groan softly.

“I can't believe a few strings makes you even harder to resist,” he breathes, holding you close as he toys with the narrow straps.

“Then don't,”

The words barely leave your lips before he shifts, lowering you onto the mattress as he eyes you with unmasked hunger. "Now. I won't let this invitation go to waste,”

_____

RAFAYEL

Rafayel, being engrossed in sketching his draft, almost doesn't notice the change of your clothes. When he hears you pad closer, he looks up.

"Wha-? What is this?!" He leaps from his stool, circling you like a curator appraising a statue.

“Surprised?” You ask, twirling for him.

His eyes darken the moment he sees the back of the dress. "Come closer, cutie," He says, the playfulness gone from his voice.

He studies you with a gaze intense enough to make you squirm. His fingers glide along the straps, and he hums in approval.

"Mm. Though I’d prefer it pooled at your feet." When you swat his hand, he grins.

"What? An artist appreciates his muse." His arms wrap around you, holding you against him.

“That defeats the point of this dress!” You pout.

“I don't know, cutie,” he says, leaning in to nip at your ear. “Is this a ploy to torture me by making me paint you dressed like this for hours, instead of doing what I want?”

“I had this dress on for less than five minutes,” you protest, gasping when his hands slide down to your hips before squeezing. “Raf!”

“Just showing you what I wanna do, cutie,” he smirks. “And-”

He carries you to his sofa, easily caging you in with his body on top of yours. "-I reaaally don't mind if you wanna keep the dress on.”

_____

CALEB

The tweezers almost crush the tail of Caleb’s model plane when he looks up.

"Huh- what-" His purple eyes are wide as he struggles to process the scene before him- you, clad in a patch of fabric barely qualifying as a nightgown.

You sashay to the sofa, trailing a finger down his chest. "Do you like it?"

He exhales sharply, then hauls you onto his lap, a kiss branding your lips.

“Who else knows you bought this?” He questions, voice rough as he watches you, eyes dark with desire.

“Caleb-”

“Answer me,” he pulls you closer to him, your hips slotting against his. You gasp when he pushes the hem of the dress up, fingers circling your skin tenderly, the sudden change in pressure maddening.

“Nobody,” you breathe, “Just- just you,”

“Good. Good girl,” he drawls, shifting to hold you tighter. His lips slide against yours again, the kiss deeper this time, and you feel him press up against you between your thighs.

“God, pips, I'm gonna lose it because of this dress,” His hands fist the flimsy fabric. "Off. Now."

Edit/note: Ty for the prompt from the anon this was so fun to write!! First post thats a little more spicier than the prev posts hehe alsooo loved writing Xavier's bc I could finally write something adjacent to nightly rendevous hehe AND THANKS FOR READING!!! <33 Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated as always

✨️

[sugarladytum]

The kitty and the frog ✨

[aerosarrow]

"Need saving?"

SPIDERMAN!CALEB: Skyhaven's Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman

[dollyswishingwell]

hi dollyyyy, after reading ur last post abt insatiable mc i declare myself as one of the people that want a post with the roles reversed omg..... .. .i wanna se the lads going crazy for mc

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Insatiable P.2

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff, mostly suggestive but some smut, that’s it

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ They can’t keep their hands off you

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You were ruined.

Absolutely demolished, really, legs shaking, breathless, and curled up in the center of the bed like a worn-out porcelain doll. Your silken slip was hiked up around your hips, one strap barely clinging to your shoulder. Gloss smudged. Hair a mess. The sheets clutched desperately to your chest like they were the only thing protecting your fragile soul from yet another round.

You peeked out from under the covers, just in time to see him coming back.

“R-Raffy…”

Rafayel was already shirtless again, collarbone glistening, belt hanging loose. His purple waves were a mess and his pupils were blown wide with the kind of hunger that should’ve been illegal.

“You’re too pretty,” he breathed, crawling onto the bed like a predator who had not gotten his fill. “I swear to God. It’s your fault. You walk around the house in those tiny little dresses like some cursed siren and then act surprised when I lose my mind five times a day.”

“B-But I’m sore—!”

“I’ll be gentle,” he lied immediately, already grabbing the bedsheet you were clutching and yanking it off like it personally offended him. “And then I won’t.”

You yelped and tried to crawl back giggling, but he was already wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest, burying his face in your neck with a groan that made your thighs clench all over again.

“‘M obsessed with you,” he mumbled into your skin, his voice rough with love-drunk need. “You don’t get it, pearlie, I look at you and I black out. I wanna kiss every inch of you until you’re crying.”

You were already teary-eyed and trembling.

“You’ve already done that like four times today,” you whimpered, face burning as he licked a fresh kiss across your collarbone.

“And yet,” he said with a grin, “I still feel like I’m starving.”

Your whine was muffled by the pillow as Raf slotted his hips between yours and nuzzled into your cheek like some deranged, horny little prince.

He placed one gentle kiss to your forehead. Then two not-so-gentle ones on your chest.

Then whispered softly���

“Let’s make it at least six.”

And just like that, the bedsheet was gone, your pleas were ignored, and your sweet, artsy husband was devouring you all over again like you were his favorite masterpiece, smeared in lipstick, gloss, and love.

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

You were barely breathing.

Absolutely spent, trembling under the silk sheets, your thighs still pressed together, your chest rising and falling like you’d just run a marathon. Your lip gloss was smudged. There were hickeys blooming all over your collarbone and neck like some exclusive collection. And your once-perfect hair?

Destroyed. Gloriously ruined.

You lay there blinking up at the ceiling, the sheets clutched to your chest like a makeshift shield.

Then, the bathroom door creaked open.

“Z-Zayne—wait, baby, please—”

He was already walking back toward the bed, towel slung around his neck, toned body still damp from the shower he had taken exactly five minutes ago… post-round-five.

“I was going to let you rest,” he said calmly, slowly undoing the towel from around his neck as he climbed back onto the bed. “And then I walked past the mirror and remembered how you looked begging underneath me, and, well…”

His hazel-green eyes darkened.

“I’m not a strong man, sweetheart.”

“Zayne!” you squeaked, pulling the covers tighter around your body. “You’re a doctor, shouldn’t you be worried about, like, overworking my body?!”

He raised a brow and placed one large hand against your thigh, slowly dragging the sheets away from your chest like he was unwrapping a precious gift.

“You should’ve thought about that,” he murmured, “before you came out this morning in that tiny little lace set and kissed my neck while I was on the phone.”

You whimpered.

“That was eight hours ago!”

“And I’ve had to touch you five times since to keep myself from losing my license due to lust-induced delirium,” he said flatly.

With a soft grunt, he pulled the sheets completely off your body, exposing the state he left you in, marked up, trembling, and absolutely perfect in his eyes. He groaned under his breath, pinning your hips with both hands.

“You’re too pretty, darling,” he whispered against your shoulder. “You break my self-control. I’m a respected surgeon and you turn me into a beast.”

You hid your face in your hands with a choked laugh. “You’re insane.”

“You married insane,” he corrected, already sliding between your thighs again. “Now be a good girl and let me love you properly, for the sixth time.”

He made very good on his word, leaving you breathless, boneless, and ruined all over again, whispering in your ear like a man in love with every inch of your soul and body:

“Let them say I’m obsessed. You’re my wife. You’re mine.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

You couldn’t move.

Your body felt like jelly, your limbs tangled in silk sheets, hair a wild, tousled mess across the pillows. Your lips were kiss-swollen and glossy, your pretty robe long discarded somewhere across the room. You were a wreck, soft thighs trembling, eyes dazed, the scent of your husband still all over you.

You clutched the sheets to your chest like your life depended on it.

“Xavi… I can’t. I literally can’t feel my legs.”

And yet.

You watched in horror as your beautiful, unhinged, silver-haired husband slowly turned from the mirror, where he’d been fixing his tousled hair, red marks all over his pale neck like you had ruined him.

But his eyes were dark. Soft. Starved.

He walked back to the bed, bare-chested and flushed, licking his lips like you were the last meal of the universe.

“You’re too pretty, starlight,” he murmured. “It’s your fault. You kept making those sounds, and you looked at me like you wanted me to ruin your life. So I did.”

“Five times,” you gasped, clinging to the covers as he crawled over you. “You did it five times. I need water. And a medic.”

He chuckled softly, brushing your hair away from your flushed face and kissing your cheek with maddening gentleness. His fingers curled under the sheet you were hugging so tightly.

“Mm. You don’t need water,” he whispered. “You need me again.”

“Xavi—”

“Just once more. For science.”

He ripped the sheet away.

You screamed. He grinned like a man entirely out of his mind.

“You don’t understand,” he murmured, pinning your wrists above your head as he kissed down your shoulder again. “I don’t get tired of you. I don’t reach a limit. I see you, and I want to touch you again. Over and over. Until you’re crying my name so sweet I forget what galaxy we’re in.”

“You already did,” you whined, squirming under him. “You kept calling me starlight in three different languages.”

He blinked. “…Did I?”

Then smirked.

“I’m doing it again.”

And he was wrecking you all over again, slow, obsessed, utterly devoted, his voice a breathy chant in your ear as you melted into him:

“So pretty… so good for me… mine, mine, mine.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You were sprawled on the bed like the world’s most exhausted princess, lipstick smeared, thighs trembling, hair in complete chaos, and the silken sheets yanked up to your chest in a desperate attempt to protect what little pride you had left. You looked used, loved, devoured, and Sylus?

He looked like he’d barely broken a sweat.

His silver hair was ruffled but charmingly so, his toned torso covered in blooming bite marks, but he was already standing by the foot of the bed again, rolling up the sleeves of his half-unbuttoned shirt, red eyes gleaming like a predator who enjoyed watching his prey try to crawl away.

“Sylus—no, baby, I can’t,” you gasped, clutching the sheet tighter. “You’ve ruined me three times already and I can’t even feel my spine anymore—”

“That was four,” he corrected smoothly, already tugging the sheet right out of your grip like it was tissue paper. “Don’t shortchange me, kitty.”

“Sylus!” you squealed as the sheet was ripped from your hands, exposing your completely wrecked, bite-marked body to the cool air and his shameless eyes.

“Ohhh, look at you,” he drawled, low and pleased, eyes raking over your bare skin. “You look like something I paid for and destroyed. You love it, don’t you?”

“I look like I’ve been hit by a luxury car,” you whimpered, burying your face in the pillow.

He chuckled darkly, crawling over you with slow, deliberate movements, voice dripping with affection and heat.

“That’s because you have. You married a man who’s obsessed with you and has the stamina of a war machine. What did you expect, sweetie?”

You moaned softly as his lips grazed your shoulder again, gentle, teasing, as if he hadn’t just wrecked you five minutes ago. His hand slid under your waist with practiced ease, pulling you closer.

“You’re the prettiest thing in the world, kitty,” he murmured into your ear. “You’re lucky I let you breathe.”

“Sylus,” you warned, “I will cry.”

“Cry on my chest then.”

And just like that, he was pulling you under him again like you were nothing more than his favorite toy, whispering in your ear as you sob-laughed into the pillows—

“I could drag you in here five times a day for the rest of your life and still never get tired of you…”

“…So go ahead, sweetie. Scream for number five.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You couldn’t even speak.

Your voice was hoarse, your body shaking, your pretty little nightdress long gone, discarded somewhere on the floor like your last shred of dignity. Your cheeks were flushed, lipgloss smudged, neck and chest covered in bite marks so deep and dark they looked like they might be permanent.

You were lying on your stomach now, gripping the sheets like a woman barely surviving battle. Your legs refused to close. Your whole body was humming from the aftermath of multiple rounds.

And you could feel him behind you. Still there. Still hard. Still watching.

“C-Caleb,” you whimpered, voice cracking. “Please. Please, I need a break, I—I need water, I need—”

“You need me.” His voice was low, rough, and absolutely merciless. “You always need me.”

You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling again, slow and casual like he had all the time in the world.

“B-But I can’t feel my legs!”

“That’s fine.” His palm slid over your lower back. “You don’t need them.”

You shrieked into the pillow as he yanked the bedsheet right off your body with one brutal tug, leaving you bare and trembling under his shadow.

“You started this, pipsqueak,” he whispered against your ear, his big body already sliding over yours again. “Walking around in my shirt this morning with your cute little thighs peeking out. Sucking on your lollipop and sitting on my lap like you weren’t begging to be fucked stupid.”

You sob-laughed helplessly. “That was at breakfast—”

“And now it’s almost dinner,” he bit out, nipping your shoulder. “And you’ve already screamed my name four times today, baby. Don’t act like I’m the crazy one.”

“You are!” you cried, kicking your feet weakly. “You’re a menace! I look like I just got dragged through a war zone—”

“You look like my wife.”

He pulled you up by the waist, kissed the corner of your eye where tears welled.

“You are my wife. My pretty, soft, ruined little housewife who gets dragged into bed five times a day because I can’t stop thinking about her.”

You hiccuped through a shaky moan as he pressed deeper against your back, voice thick with adoration:

“Mine. My pips. My wife. My problem.”

And as he pinned you down again for round five, he whispered it over and over like a prayer he’d never stop chanting:

“Love you. Love you. Love you.”

[beechu-beechu]

Aircraft Marshalling blobbu so Pilot Blobbu can land home safely ✈️✈️✈️

[fictoweirdoesten]

them 😔👉👈