aldremist

[aldremist]

please, gege

pairing: caleb x mc reader

cw: pseudo-incest

“t-this is the last—fuck—time,” you gasp, back arching off the sheets as caleb taps your clit with the fat, flushed tip of his cock. that same infuriatingly smug glint dances in his eyes—like he already knows you're lying to yourself.

he leans down, lips brushing just barely over yours as he lets out a soft laugh. “hmm… yeah, i don’t think so, pips.”

then he’s sliding the tip in, just past the first tight ring of muscle—and you gasp, the stretch already so much. it’s humiliating how easily your body opens up for him.

“not when fucking your brother gets your cunt this wet.”

and he’s pushing in deeper, so slow it’s agonizing—dragging it out on purpose, watching every twitch of your face, the shame written across your features as your hips buck up in tiny, desperate motions.

you let out a broken whimper and throw your hands over your face. you hate when he says that. he’s not even your real brother.

but caleb just laughs, low and mean, and easily pries your hands away from your face. “nuh-uh. don’t hide from me now.”

he bottoms out with one last thrust, hips flush against yours, and you choke out a sound—completely full, utterly ruined, and still needing more.

“say my name, pipsqueak,” he murmurs, voice dark and smooth like velvet. “tell me what you want.”

your face burns, flushed hot with mortification and want. “f-fuck me, caleb.”

his lips twitch, like he’s trying not to grin. “now you know that’s not what you call me,” he says, cock twitching inside you as he leans down—lips brushing your ear, breath warm. “what was it you used to call me all those years ago?”

your nails dig into his shoulders as you turn your face into the crook of his neck, shivering. “please, gege…”

that does it.

caleb’s hips start to move, slow at first but with heavy, deliberate force—like he’s trying to imprint himself into your body. you can hear the sound of your slick as he thrusts in, thick and obscene, while downstairs, your grandmother hums softly in the kitchen, blissfully unaware.

a/n: normally i dont care for psuedo-incest stuff but for caleb... *insert freak sonic gif*

[aldremist]

Submerged Eclipse

[aldremist]

He needs attention like, right now.

Honestly I planned a birthday render, but ofc I'm late as with everything...so here is a needy Caleb for you ❤️

[aldremist]

Barely edited filth

You don’t even hear Xavier at first. Caleb’s arms are so tight around you, his warmth a barricade, his scent filling your head. His hand cradles the back of your skull, fingers splayed wide, as if he’s afraid he has no real claim. And maybe he is afraid. Afraid of the man now standing frozen in your doorway.

“Aria.” Xavier’s voice is strained, low. You can hear the struggle in it—the effort to stay calm, to keep his voice from trembling. He’s holding something, a small box you recognize immediately. He’d promised to bring it by. A tiny favor, meant to make your day easier. And now he’s walked straight into this storm.

Caleb doesn’t even turn to look. His body stiffens around you, protective, possessive. You can feel the thrum of his pulse through his chest. His grip tightens as if Xavier’s very presence might rip you away.

Xavier takes a step inside, slow, cautious. His eyes, those bright, soft blues, don’t leave yours. He looks at you like he always does—like you’re precious, like he’d do anything to ease the worry he now sees flooding your face.

“I just—” Xavier starts, lifting the box slightly, as if it explains everything. But his words falter. His gaze shifts for the first time, flicking to where Caleb’s chin rests against your hair, where his arms are locked around your waist. You feel the air crackle between them, the weight of everything unspoken.

Caleb finally moves. His head lifts, and when his eyes meet Xavier’s, it’s like the room loses all warmth. His voice is low, a rumble in your ear, meant for Xavier but echoing in your bones.

“Always showing up. Always in the way.” There’s no pretense now. No polite mask. Just raw, simmering fury. “You don’t get it, do you? She’s mine. She’s always been mine.”

You can’t breathe. Caleb’s hold is almost bruising, and still you can’t bring yourself to push him away. Xavier’s fists clench at his sides, the box trembling in his grip. He takes another step forward, helplessness flickering across his face, swallowed by determination.

“Let her go, Caleb.”

Caleb chuckles—a sound with no humor at all. He turns slightly, angling his body so Xavier can see just how tightly he holds you, how close his mouth is to your temple. His lips brush your skin, soft, dangerous.

“No,” Caleb says simply. His dark eyes blaze. “I’ve had enough of you, Xavier. Always lurking. Always thinking you can take what’s mine. You want to see it? Want to see how she melts for me? How she belongs to me?”

“Stop,” you whisper, but your voice is too small, too lost in the storm of them.

Caleb doesn’t stop. His hand slips from your waist, fingers tracing down your arm, slow and deliberate, his gaze locked on Xavier like every inch he touches is a blow. Xavier flinches, as if the contact scorches him, as if he feels Caleb’s fingers instead of you.

You see it—Xavier’s jaw tightens, his breath quickens. He wants to rush forward, wants to tear you away, but he knows—if he moves wrong, if he pushes too hard, he’ll lose you. Caleb knows it too. And he’s savoring it. Savoring this—this proof, this victory.

“I told you before, didn’t I?” Caleb’s voice drops to a growl, his hand sliding back up to your face, tilting your chin so Xavier can’t look anywhere else. “Heaven and earth couldn’t tear us apart. And you? You’re nothing but a shadow at her door.”

Xavier’s eyes glisten, and your heart breaks at the sight. His voice, when it comes, is hoarse.

“Don’t do this to her.”

But Caleb isn’t listening. Not to Xavier. Not to you. His focus is singular, his intent clear. He’s going to make Xavier watch. Watch until there’s no doubt left. Until Xavier understands that you’re not his to save.

And all you can do is stand there, caught between them, trembling beneath the weight of a love so fierce it’s tearing all three of you apart.

“Are you really gonna let him do this, Mei Li?”

Your eyes snapped to his.

He wasn’t angry anymore — he looked wrecked. Shoulders drawn tight, chest rising too fast, eyes wide and wet with everything he couldn’t say. He wasn’t jealous, not in that Caleb-brand rage — he was hurting. Not because you were touched... but because you weren’t choosing him.

His voice cracked. “Not like this…”

Your lips parted, something aching in your chest, some trembling pull toward him. That soft vulnerability. The way he looked at you, like you were sunlight and he was terrified to reach for it.

But even as your heart stuttered, your body wouldn’t move. Couldn’t.

Because Caleb—Caleb—was already wrapped around you like gravity. His arms a cage, his mouth a brand, his hands under your clothes in that way that made your knees weak and your voice small.

You wanted to stop, to maybe say Xavier’s name — But Caleb leaned in, breath hot against your ear, and whispered, low and dark:

“He’s too late, meimei.”

You shivered hard.

“You could scream for him right now,” Caleb growled, voice filth-soft. “But we both know you won’t.”

And he was right.

Even if you reached toward Xavier with every ounce of tenderness in you — even if part of you ached to go to him — Caleb had already claimed your skin, your breath, your pulse.

Xavier’s lips parted, helpless, and he shook his head slightly.

“I’d never take from you,” he whispered, voice breaking. “But I’d never make you feel like this either.”

And still, he watched. Torn apart, and still watching.

“Say it,” Caleb whispered against your neck, his breath a furnace. “C’mon, meimei. You know what I want.”

His hand slid lower — slow, daring, slipping beneath your skirt now. Fingers ghosting lower and lower to your core. Possessive. Unrelenting.

You whimpered — the sound involuntary, trembling.

“Say my name,” he growled this time, right into your ear. “Louder.”

And like a spell cracking through your lips—

“C–Caleb…”

The sound was broken. Desperate. A confession in every breath.

Xavier flinched.

His eyes dropped to the floor, then back to you — wide, wet, shattered.

Your skirt had ridden higher now, and Caleb’s hand, shameless and sure, was disappearing beneath the fabric. His grip on you was too strong, too firm, his body pressed up behind yours like a brand. You could feel him smirk against your skin.

“Atta girl,” he murmured. “Louder, meimei. Let him hear how good I make you feel.”

You choked out another “Caleb,” barely above a whisper, face burning — eyes locked on Xavier’s.

And that was it.

Xavier’s breath caught. His hands clenched at his sides. And for one agonizing heartbeat, he didn’t move — torn between pride and pain and longing.

But then he looked away.

“I can’t—” he whispered, voice cracking. “Not like this.”

“Look at her,” Caleb murmurs, and though the words are soft, they hit like thunder. “Look at my girl. The one you keep dreaming about. The one you think you can have.” His voice darkens, rich with something possessive and wild. “She doesn’t want you. She never wanted you.”

Xavier’s breath hitches, and his fingers twitch like he might drop the box, like he might break apart entirely. You can see him unraveling in front of you—see the pain, the helplessness, the desperate need to step forward and do something, anything. But he’s frozen, caught by the raw intensity of it all.

And then Caleb takes it too far.

His hand slides up, his palm spreads flat over your stomach, pulling you tighter against him until there’s no space left between you, until you can feel the hard line of him pressed to you. His mouth finds your ear, breath hot, voice low, but loud enough that you and Xavier can both hear.

“Do you feel that, meimei? That’s what belongs to you. And you belong to me. Let him see. Let him see what he can never touch.”

Your heart is racing, but not with desire. It’s too much. Too much heat, too much fury, too much him. Caleb isn’t proving a point anymore. He’s punishing Xavier. And you. And himself.

Xavier takes a step forward now, chest heaving, face pale with rage and heartbreak. His voice cracks as he shouts, louder than you’ve ever heard him.

“Enough! Let her go, Caleb!”

But Caleb doesn’t let go. His grip tightens, his head dips, his lips brushing along your cheek as he watches Xavier over your shoulder, as if daring him to try, daring him to take a step closer.

“Make me,” Caleb challenges, his voice a dark whisper, a threat wrapped in a promise. “Or stand there and admit you’ve already lost.”

The room feels like it might break apart, like the weight of their hatred and need and love might shatter the walls. And all you can do is stand there, caught between the two of them, the storm swelling around you, waiting for someone—anyone—to stop this before it goes too far to come back from.

Caleb’s hands don’t stop. You feel him everywhere—his breath, his heat, his will. And then, slow, deliberate, his fingers slip lower. Past the waistband of your skirt, beneath the edge of your panties. You stiffen, a gasp tearing from your throat, but Caleb only holds you tighter, his mouth brushing your ear, his voice a dark murmur meant to drive the last dagger home.

“That’s it, meimei. Let him see who you belong to.”

And you feel it—his fingers sliding against your wet core, easily making their way inside you, deep, unhesitating, like he’s done a thousand times in his mind already. Like he’s been waiting for this exact moment, this exact way to mark you. Your breath stutters, your knees weaken, and you can’t stop the soft, broken sound that escapes you, no matter how hard you try.

Xavier’s world stops.

His mind—once so sharp, so disciplined—goes utterly blank. All the fury, the possessiveness, the heartbreak swirl together into something white-hot, blinding. His evol flares, brilliant and wild, casting long, sharp shadows against your walls. His fists tremble at his sides, his entire body rigid with the need to do something, anything, to stop this.

But he can’t. He knows he can’t. If he moves, if he acts, it’ll end in blood, in ruin, in losing you forever.

So he just stands there, eyes wide, staring—feeling every inch of Caleb’s victory like a blade to the heart. Staring at you, at the way Caleb holds you, at the way your body betrays you with the soft sounds you can’t contain, at the way your eyes plead with him while your body is claimed.

And then the glow swallows him whole.

The air snaps with the force of his power as he teleports, a heartbeat before he shatters completely. Gone—vanished into the night, into the cold, into anywhere but here.

Leaving you in Caleb’s arms, trembling, breathless, the silence thick with everything that’s been lost.

Xavier walked away. He had to. But that door didn’t stop the sound. Not the way your breath hitched. Not the way you cried out Caleb’s name — again.

And now?

Now he’s standing just outside, forehead pressed against the wall, fists clenched, heart breaking loudly in silence. Just a few feet from your door.

That’s where he stopped — Where he folded against the wall, head bowed, breathing like he’d been punched in the chest.

He told himself not to listen. But how could he not?

You gasped.

And everything in him shattered.

Because he knew that sound. The one you made when you were losing yourself. The way your voice broke when you needed. And even though it was Caleb’s name on your lips — not his — it still made his knees weak.

Still you.

Still his Mei Li.

He squeezed his eyes shut, chest heaving.

It wasn’t just lust. It was ache.

He remembered the way your hands felt in his. The quiet mornings where you shared coffee between sleepy smiles. How you once fell asleep on his shoulder on his balcony, hair tickling his collarbone, trusting him like it meant something.

And now—

Now he could hear you giving yourself to someone else.

No — not someone else.

Caleb.

The one who always pushed. Who never backed down. Who held you like he owned you — and maybe he did.

Xavi pressed a trembling hand over his heart.

He wanted to go back. To pound on the door. To tear Caleb away from you and whisper your name like a promise. To ask — beg — for a chance to make you feel just as good, but softer. Safer. Sweeter.

But you weren't calling for him.

You never did.

“I would never make her cry like that,” he whispered, a broken promise to no one.

But even now, his breath caught as your voice rose again, muffled and helpless behind the door.

He cursed under his breath, turning his face into his arm, heat prickling his skin. Embarrassment. Shame. Want.

No matter how much it hurt, he couldn’t stop listening. Because no matter how far he walked — your voice always pulled him back.

Xavier didn’t look back.

Not even when you cried out again — not even when he nearly groaned from the sound of it, from the raw, broken way you moaned Caleb’s name like it was carved into your soul.

He stood at the elevator with trembling hands, shame heating his neck, need clawing at his chest like guilt.

He shouldn’t want this. Not like this. Not when Caleb had you like that.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Your voice. Your breath. The way you whimpered when Caleb told you to speak.

He was hard before he even shut his door behind him.

The lock clicked. And Xavi — sweet, quiet, lonely Xavi — leaned back against the wood, panting softly, head tipped up to the ceiling.

“Mei Li…”

Your name left him like an ache.

He could still see your face. The dazed, blissed-out look in your eyes. The way your thighs shifted when Caleb’s hand disappeared beneath your skirt. The way you gasped for him.

His own fingers trembled as they moved to his waistband.

He should stop. He should shower. Sleep. Meditate.

But instead, he groaned your name again, softer now, breathy and bruised — and let himself imagine your hands instead of his. The way you’d look if you ever made those same sounds for him.

If you ever whispered his name the way you said Caleb’s.

The heat came fast. Overwhelming. Shameful. But it wasn’t enough.

He’d never touch you like Caleb did. Never hold you that hard. Never claim you the way Caleb could.

But in the safety of his dark room, Xavier imagined it anyway.

Imagined you straddling him, eyes glassy, lips parted — whispering “Xavi” like it meant something.

He came undone with a muffled gasp, hand over his mouth, face flushed scarlet.

And still, your name slipped from his lips like a prayer.

[aldremist]

WEAR HEADPHONES

NSFW

Caleb birthday sex 🤭😛

Dialogue comes from the game.

I had to outsource sfx to get the desired… listening experience I wanted. Regardless, I hope you enjoy. 🩷

[aldremist]

bouncing on it while he yaps about airplanes

caleb’s a fucking mess under you, sprawled on his creaking bed, your slick pussy swallowing his cock as you bounce hard, each slam making his eyes roll back. he’s trying to talk about airplanes, clinging to some shred of control, but his moans and filthy thoughts keep spilling out, his hands groping every inch of your body like a desperate perv.

“the 747’s—fuck, so fucking tight—got a, ngh, thrust-to-weight ratio—” he chokes, a guttural moan cutting him off as you grind down, your wet cunt clenching his throbbing cock. his eyes are wild, darting from your bouncing tits to your sweat-slicked thighs, drinking in how your body jiggles, pussy lips stretched around him. his hands are everywhere—one gripping your hip, fingers sinking in the soft skin, the other squeezing your ass cheek so hard it’ll bruise, pulling you down to take his cock deeper. “shit, you’re milking me,” he groans, voice raw.

he tries again, panting. “wingspan’s like—oh god, fuck—200 feet or—” another moan rips through, his hips jerking up, cock slamming into you, hitting so deep you gasp. he’s staring at your dripping pussy, the way it sucks him in, slick coating his base, and he’s losing it. “wanna fill you up so bad,” he blurts, not even thinking, his hand sliding to your lower stomach, pressing where he can feel his cock bulge. “fuck, look at you, taking it like a champ.”

his words are sloppy, half airplane facts, half depravity. “jet engines—shit, so wet—push 60,000 pounds, but your pussy’s—” he cuts off, whining as you roll your hips, grinding your clit against him, making his cock twitch. his other hand roams, grabbing your thigh, then your waist, fingers brushing the slick mess where you’re joined. “gonna cum so hard in you,” he mumbles, eyes locked on your bouncing form, obsessed with how your ass slaps his thighs, how your pussy drips down his balls.

“don’t even know—fuck, fuck—cruising altitude’s nothing compared to—” he’s babbling, moaning louder, thrusting up sloppily to meet your bounces. his hands grip harder, one sliding to spread your ass, staring at your tight hole in the opposite mirror as he imagines fucking it next. “you feel so good!” he rasps, voice breaking, too gone to care how pathetic he sounds. he’s humping up, cock pulsing, hands groping frantically, lost in your body and his own filthy, incoherent thoughts.

a/n: you can tell I had to do research for this one☝🏼🤓

[aldremist]

[aldremist]

Redrew the Gojo/Jogo fight but with Caleb and Viper

[aldremist]

your first time with him — love and deepspace

synopsis. taking your virginity

including. zayne, xavier, rafayel, sylus, caleb

warnings. fem! reader, taking your v-card, reader is a virgin, dirty talk

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ zayne

zayne was anxious, very much so, trembling with his excitement as his forehead presses to your throat, his breath shaky with how hard he's trying to hold himself together, "are you sure?" he whispers at first, even though his hands were already gripping against your hips, like your yes would be the only thing that ever mattered.

and when you gave it to him, a silken sweet, real, response, he exhales like he's on the brink of dying, like you're honestly saving him with your answer.

"you don't get to take this back," he utters within a hoarse tone, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear ever so softly, "you give it to me, you chose me."

he says it like it's something sacred, like he's owed the softness between your legs, the stutter of your breath, the shiver of your thighs clamped around his hips, all in all with his hands slowly spreading you open, bare and exposed beneath him, untouched, and the glimmer in his eyes was honestly luscious, like zayne wanted to burn this moment into you until it scarred.

and then, well, he pushes in as your back arches immediately, the stretch resembling fire— like your body was folding in on itself trying to take him fully.

you cry out without meaning to, your voice cracking, the pain sharp and intimate and new, fuck, you've never felt anything like it. something so thick and overwhelming was repeatedly pushing through you, the friction of him splitting you open— muscle dragging against muscle, tight and wet and far too much.

"fuck, listen to that," he snarls against you with gritted teeth as his hips inch forward again, the sound of him sinking into you beginning to be loud and soaked, not to mention raw as your pussy clenches hard and somewhat instinctive.

zayne groans the moment he feels your body accepting him— he was, in fact, utterly gone by this point, finding himself in heaven in the way you whined for him.

your pussy clung to his length as his hand clumsily fumbles at your hip, trying to slow himself down, trying not to break you, fuck, but his rhythm falters and his mouth finds your throat instead— hot and open kisses battering all over your flesh with teeth scraping just to feel you twitch again.

your legs were out of control, thighs shaking around his waist as you didn't know it would feel like this— like you're being hollowed out from the inside, like there's no room and no air, nothing, no way to separate the ache from the pleasure that's already bleeding in at the edges.

you can feel him for real this time— hot and thick and twitching inside you, truly, feel every vein, every slow drag of his cock pressing against that too sensitive place that made your toes curl, such place you didn't know existed in the first place.

after a while, you adjust a little and get used to the new feeling as he's trying to go deeper, over calculating on how much your virgin cunt could take as you suck in a ragged breath and sob out something broken yet sweet, your fingernails digging into his back and still, zayne never stops memorizing your reactions.

his pelvis presses flush to yours as you cry out again, your stomach tight with unbearable pressure as a dull pulse starts to throb low and hard into your tightness with your nerves fried and limbs shaking.

the pain and heat on your split cunt blurs at the edges and gradually develops into pleasure, everything reduced to the feeling of being full and completely owned as you find solace in the new sensation making you addicted to his touch.

"i told you," he breathes out, his voice tight like he's holding his heart in his teeth, "this isn't just sweet, yeah? it's not just soft, this is real, love, this is you giving yourself to me, and sweetheart, i'm not letting go."

ever so, zayne was careful even now, even with how fast he was going, how ruined you felt around him because, well, he's a doctor, wasn't he? he's spent his whole life learning how to fix what's broken, yet with you, all he wanted to do was feel you, let the control slip just for once, let this moment etch itself into your bones.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ xavier

xavier watches you fall apart like he's taking notes— yet he wasn't frantic, he was patient and methodical, a hunter who's already mapped your collapse long before the first touch as with each squeeze and kiss, he shows you that it wasn't curiosity calling him— it's certainty that he wanted this to be with you. forever.

he's towering over you, his breath caught somewhere between awe and hunger, "you're really giving this to me?" he whispers, almost in disbelief, drowning in the moment with his speech being the only thing keeping him afloat, "i'm so lucky,"

his fingers flex tight against the inside of your thighs with his nails biting in, holding you open like a wound as the warmth of his palms burn through your skin.

you feel him there, right here yeah? feel it everywhere.

his cock splits you slow and brutally, the stretch pulling a sob from your chest as your lungs felt too small to bear it and your ribcage too tight to hold it down, your whole body resisting and yearning in the same breath. although he moves deeper, dragging thick through you and you swear you could feel the shape of him break you, feeling it in every vein and every twitch moving forward, every grind of bone and flesh into your virgin cunt being taken so well.

"see?" xavier breathes, frayed with hunger, "you're taking me, even when you said you couldn't."

but it aches— fuck, it aches, you cannot stop moaning, every press of him grinding up against something electric inside of your cunt making your back arch, your fingers clawing at the sheets.

it's slick too, soaking wet and overwhelming— your thighs all sticky with slick and arousal as his hips slam wet and fast into yours with a rhythm that felt like pain turned to pleasure.

your nerves were on fire and everything from the inside out of your body pulses with your belly drawn taut, consistingly multiplying in pressure as his cock fucks into you drastically, your head empty except for the maddening throbs his erection put inside you. at this point, your voice had become a mess of moans and pleas as all you could hear were grunts and hisses intertwining with your very own noises.

xavier felt just so good— he's out of this world and treating you so well, reaching places you never thought were able to be reached in the first place as he grew quite confident in his movements.

whenever he brushed his cock against your walls, you could feel your high approaching with every new snap of his hips, the position he had you in allowing the tip of his cock to reach deep enough for you to properly get used to it.

sweat clings between your bodies and turns you into one, your skin burning and flushed as the air was thick with pheromones and whines and the soft, saccharine coated sounds of him driving into you over and over and over again.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ rafayel

you cannot speak and it's futile to even try.

instead, your lips were parted, with breath stuck somewhere between a gasp and a sob as your chest rose with shallow, shuddering motion when rafayel slides his cock inside for the very first time— slow, of course, with his mouth at your ear, "relax," he whispers as his tip bumps upwards, sloppily thrusting into your folds, "you gotta let me in."

your muscles resist although at last, they seize around the stretch with the burn being intoxicating. you're a little anxious about it and he notices by how hard your nails clawed at his biceps— stabilizing yourself to anything while he adjusted himself, inch by inch making you take more of his cock into the small, untouched part of you.

such place no one else has ever felt, and fuck, rafayel's mouth waters at the thought, and well— he admires you, drinks in your struggles to take him as his breath comes sharp through his nose, although his hands remained steady.

one wraps around the base of your spine, the other cradles your jaw as he keeps your head turned just enough for him to study every flicker of pain that crosses your face, "you feel that?" he asks, voice a little raspy, "that's the shape of me, don't resist it,"

you whimper, your thighs slick with sweat and the mess of him spreading slow inside you and ugh, the pain, without rafayel being so considerate and talking you through the entire process, you wouldn't be able to handle it— it's so sharp and gnawing and too much, it brings you to tears, the unrelenting force of him coiling somewhere deep inside your gut, becoming unbearable.

how flustered you have gotten considering he wasn't even all the way in yet, yet you already felt like you're being broken in half.

with that, rafayel laughs when your hips involuntarily twitch, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand and murmuring so softly it vibrates through you, "you're doing so well for me, sweetheart, so brave, letting me be your first."

his lips trail down your throat as he groans when you shiver around him, every inch dragging liquid fire through the both of you, "you feel that? how warm you are? how soft you are around me? like you were made for this— for me."

your shy gaze averts from his heavy one as he found it so unbelievably cute and amusing that you still managed to feel embarrassed even after taking his cock so perfectly with your cunt by now.

rafayel pauses his hips for a bit, his forehead sensually pressed to yours, "you're not hurting, are you? I can stop— i'd rather die than hurt you," if only he knew you thought if only he could go faster now.

fuck, your head falls back when you urge him to continue moving, his hand dancing over your stomach as he abruptly presses down— always gently, just enough for you to feel him moving deeper inside within an invading force.

"you like that? you want me to do it again?" he smirks, "you're so tight, don't even know how to take it myself, but fuck, i'll teach you, i'll teach you until your body only knows me."

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sylus

you taste like need when sylus kissed you with your lips swollen, breath catching and the edge of panic sweetened on your tongue as his fingers trail down teasingly, forever feather light when your entire body tenses under the rub of skin on skin.

he treasures the lust in your limbs and the sheen of tears catching light in your lashes as his hands remain careful, but not hesitant, no, sylus was never hesitant.

he's memorizing every inch of you with that predator's patience— every hitch in your breath, every place that made your spine arch and your thighs twitch and now he's touching you like he's memorized the blueprints of your body.

sylus grinds into you with utter patience as he pushes through your sensitive hole, inserting just the head of course, just enough to make you feel the impossible stretch of him as your body betrays you.

a sound escapes and scratches your throat, truly, it was unrecognizable when you moaned his name for the first time, as if your soul had tried to flee through you and kiss his lips.

"you're shaking," his voice was velvet, stretched thin and vibrating desperately, surely about to snap, "do you want me to stop?" a pause lingers between your lips as his hand finds yours, "tell me, and I will, but if you want this, if you want me, i'll be so gentle with you."

sylus cannot take his eyes of you, he's breathless, as if that noise were a sacred thing, a proof of something irreversible— that your body was already surrendering before you'd fully let him in. the man believed you're out of this world, wanting you to feel everything— the swollen stretch of his length, the heat his body permeated, the hefty pressure of being entered this way, inch by inch around something so intimate.

"shh, i know," each of his words dragging deeper as his eyes lock on your face like it's a mirror to his own hunger, "you feel like silk, you feel like you're fighting it."

you are, yes, you're drowning in it.

his cock sinks deeper and the burn starts to slowly blur away, sensation blooming in sickening waves, pain and pleasure curling tight in your belly until you didn't know where one ends and the other begins. the sound of your body taking him was ringing through you and when his hips finally meet yours, you felt split, your thighs immediately jerking up, your stomach knotting as you make another desperate noise, both moaning into the kiss, exchanging your breaths as the feeling of him stretching you was to die for.

sylus doesn't move a lot in the beginning, just a few pumps ever so often to find out what you liked, although staying buried to the hilt, watching the flicker of your lashes and the way your mouth trembles open like you want to say something but cannot remember how to speak.

his pace was slow but steady, every grind of his hips forcing a soft, wet sound from between your legs as his hair brushes your cheek within each thrust, his warm breath prancing over your neck— yet when you finally start to unravel, when the pressure cracks you open and your breath breaks in a thousand shards, sylus seeks for your lips as you moan into them, a sound of you falling apart being the only thing holding him together.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ caleb

you're underneath caleb, your heart pounding with a noise that didn't belong to your body, although not from fear, not entirely, it's due to him, yes— his darling face and angelic voice, murmuring your name like he's never supposed to say anything else.

caleb cups your jaw as his thumb sweeps over your cheek lovingly, your skin already burning from the softness of his hands as your thighs were slightly twinging from the way they've stayed open, aching in the weight of him.

"you're sure, really?" he asks again like he doesn't believe it.

but you nod at him and it kills him, choking up on the storm of sensation as the man moves closer when you take in his scent, the air permeating of pine and sweat and warmth, the dampness of your skin pressed against each other as the weight of his cock repeatedly nudging against your entrance was something fated, something unstoppable.

he kisses you deeply, tongue slow and ravishing your lips, like he's trying to memorize the inside of your mouth before he captures you further, your body flinches when he takes you at last, choking on the sheer breadth of it.

the stretch was cutting, your body clamping down on instinct and body saving energy due to turning overwhelmed and confused.

yes, it was painful, you cannot lie to yourself, and slightly dizzying too, like something too large being forced into a space that's never known intrusion.

caleb's hands were everywhere, one holding your thighs wide open, the other gripping your hand tightly and grounding you as he presses his forehead to yours, his breath stuttering against your lips, "breathe," he whispers, voice slightly cracking when you tense down on his length, "breathe for me, i've got you."

he's barely halfway in, and you can already feel it— stretching deep, dragging against your nerves that have never been touched before, quite literally stealing the air from your lungs.

not to mention that he was big, well, you could've guessed that yet despite that, your body kept pulling him in instinctively, not wanting him to leave anymore.

caleb gasps, "you're so tight, fuck, i can feel you shaking," you were, in fact, your whole body was shaking, belly fluttering with pressure and pain and something else— something lusting and awfully blooming low inside your belly, tight and insistent as he shifts his hips forward, just a little more, and it feels like you're being split.

his cock continues to move, dragging every wet inch against your walls as your muscles squeeze him, your eyes glimmering from how good you were being fucked as you instantly open more for him, trying to accommodate him as good as possible.

"you're doing so good," he breathes, "so perfect, you don't know what you're doing to me," as tears prick your eyes when he kisses them ever so gently, even as he keeps sinking in he whispers your name again, like he's swearing an oath.

truly, he's everywhere, moaning shamelessly like your body was the only thing that's ever mattered to him, inhaling your maddening scent sharply as he kept rutting inside of you.

"i can't believe this is real," he cries out with his mouth against your temple and his hips rocking in and out, the friction too much as you're still too sensitive when dig your nails into his back to sob into his neck.

you're crying, you don't even know why, maybe it's the pain, maybe the stretch, maybe the way he kept whispering your name like it's the only thing he's ever wanted to say. with that, you clutch to him tighter, needing him closer, needing him deeper, and caleb gave it to you instantly, everything you desired— every inch, every rock of hips, every broken word of promises.

"you'll never need anyone else," he speaks as if the air itself was fragile, every word cutting deeper as he places a couple kisses on your cheek before smiling into the skin, "i'm going to keep you like this forever."

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[aldremist]

“ B-BODY SEARCH? ”

# pairing: mean!colonel caleb x fem!reader

# tws: n/sfw content, 0.7k+ wc, dub-con, pussy inspection (?), rough s.ex, fingering, edging, orgasm denial, mean!caleb, body search, his mechanical arm vibrates bc why tf not, degradation, might be ooc 😭 + not proofread so i apologize for any errors/mistakes.

# note: can you guys tell I love mean!caleb… wrote this almost being half asleep at 3 am so this might suck ass idk ✌🏽

Caleb's eyes are hard and unyielding as he pins you with a stern glare, his jaw clenched tight. He's done playing nice. Done with your constant defiance and reckless disregard for your own safety. If you won't take this seriously, then he'll just have to get serious for you.

"Strip," he commands, his voice brooking no argument. "Now."

He stands over you, arms crossed over his broad chest as he waits for you to comply. When you hesitate, his patience snaps like a frayed rope. In a flash, he's on you, gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head.

"Don't test me, pipsqueak," he growls, eyes flashing with warning. "I'm not in the mood for games."

His hands make short work of your clothes, practically tearing them from your body in his haste. Button by button, zipper by zipper, he strips you bare until you're left with nothing but the chill of the air and the heat of his gaze.

His eyes rake over your naked form, searching for any sign of contraband. They linger on your tits, your stomach, your hips... pausing for a long moment as they reach the apex of your thighs. A cruel smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"Spread these pretty legs f’me, baby" he orders, voice dripping with condescension. "Let's see if you're hiding anything... down there."

He punctuates his command with a harsh squeeze to your inner thigh, fingers digging into your soft flesh. When you don't move fast enough to suit him, he grips your knee and wrenches your leg to the side, exposing you completely.

"Fuckin' hell," he mutters, eyes glinting with a wicked light as he takes in the sight of your exposed pussy. "You're dripping already, aren't you? Dirty girl, getting turned on by a search. I should've known you'd be a little slut."

He reaches out, fingers brushing against your folds with a feather-light touch. A shudder wracks your body at the contact, a gasp escaping your lips. Caleb just grins, a wicked curve to his mouth as he parts your lower lips with his gloved fingers.

"Let's see what we have here," he taunts, voice low and mocking. "Just a messy little cunt, so wet and ready for my attention. Is this really turning you on right now?"

Caleb's smirk grows wider, crueler, as he takes in the debauched sight of your dripping pussy. He can't resist reaching out, running a single finger along your slit, feeling the slick heat that coats his skin. A dark chuckle rumbles in his chest at the sensation.

"Just look at you—so fuckin’ desperate," he taunts, circling your clit with a maddeningly slow rhythm. "Desperate for attention, for release. Buuuut—you've been a bad girl, haven’t you, sweetheart? So you don't get to cum until I say so."

His eyes glint with a wicked promise as he raises his mechanical hand, the metal fingers glinting under the harsh light. Your eyes widened in half shock—half horror as his fingers started vibrating. A sadistic grin spreads across his face as he positions the buzzing fingertips at your entrance.

"Let's see how long you last, slut," he growls, pressing the vibrations against your aching core.

He starts slow, teasing, the buzzing sensation sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. Your hips buck against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction, but he holds you down, pinning you in place.

"Thaaaat’s it—fuckin’ grind on it," he snarls, watching your face contort with pleasure. "Fuckin’ take it like the desperate little whore you are."

He increases the intensity, the vibrations growing stronger, more insistent. Your walls clench around the buzzing tip, your body coiled tight as a bowstring, ready to snap at any moment.

"C-caleb, ohh—fuck!" you cry out, back arching off the bed as you teeter on the brink of ecstasy.

"That's right, scream for me," he egged, voice dripping with cruel amusement. "Let everyone know what a dirty slut you are."

He can feel you tightening, gooey walls fluttering around his fingers as your orgasm builds to a crescendo. He knows you're right on the edge, ready to fall over into sweet oblivion.

But at the last possible second, he rips his hand away—leaving you empty and aching, teetering on the razor's edge of climax. A frustrated sob tears from your throat at the sudden loss of stimulation, “nonono please—I was s’close—wanna cum s’bad!”

"Well that’s too damn bad, isn’t it, sweet girl?" Caleb taunts, a wicked grin on his face as he watches you squirm and beg, wiping the slick-soaked metal on your thigh. "Brats don't get to cum—you only cum when I allow it. We’re just getting started and let’s just say… you’re not cumming anytime soon.”

++ LADS M.LIST

[aldremist]

Having sex with Caleb

Warning: !Highly recommend listening with headphones! He’s a breathing mess

Soooo this was something. Listening to it again, it sounds choppy but eh. Inspired by @lalalotta and @qinche-cvmslvt and wanted to give it a try.

Any audio of Caleb is from the game.

[aldremist]

Caleb giving backshots

18+ audio

[aldremist]

Caleb on a dirt bike??

Short fic inspired by this pic, art by twistedfei

Fluff then smut. Mdni

Word count 5952

You leave work two hours early, heart thumping with anticipation. Caleb hadn’t asked you to come, hadn’t even mentioned where he’d be today. But you’d overheard him bragging to one of the rookies yesterday about testing his new gear out at the old arena on Ridgeback Flats. So naturally, you made your way there the moment you clocked out, not bothering to change out of your work clothes—just shoved your ID in your bag, grabbed a bottle of cold water, and ran. 

The scream of dirtbikes tore through the heavy summer air like wild thunder, underscored by the sound of people cheering, clapping, yelling. You picked up your pace. Gravel crunched under your boots. Heat shimmered off the packed clay track just ahead, the scent of scorched rubber and churned-up earth wafting over the fences. 

And then you saw him. 

Caleb. 

He was mid-turn when your eyes locked on him, sliding the rear wheel sideways in a perfect drift around the outer loop. The crowd surged with excitement, their voices overlapping into one wordless roar of awe. 

It’s impossible to miss him. He moves differently from the others—not just with skill, but with intent. He’s a blur of matte black and orange, his dirtbike growling beneath him like an extension of his will. Each movement is sharp and deliberate, from the way he leans into a tight corner to the way his body tenses before a jump. The others try to match him, but no one even comes close. He flies across the dirt ramps like he was born for this. 

And maybe he was. Caleb's always been like this—good at everything he tries, unfairly so. It’s not just talent. It’s instinct. Grit. That razor-wire edge that makes people look twice. That makes you look every time. 

Even with his helmet on, even with half a dozen other riders sharing the course, Caleb commanded the arena like he owned every inch of it. Every motion he made on that bike was fluid, effortless, charged with that unmistakable energy only he carried. 

Now you stand at the edge of the dirt-streaked viewing line, hands gripping the warm railing, a ragged cloth tarp stretched above to shield only half the sun’s wrath. The air hums with engine growls and the sharp scent of fuel and churned-up earth. 

You made it just in time to watch him hit a jump head-on, lifting clean into the air. His body leaned with the bike, and for a split second, he hung suspended under the sun—then landed smooth, without a bounce, without a single inch lost. The others barely made it over the mound behind him. 

All around you, people noticed. 

Women whistled. Men swore softly under their breath, some in admiration, others in envy. A girl behind you clutched her boyfriend’s arm, murmuring something like, “That’s the one everyone’s talking about—Caleb, right?” Another guy shouted, “Bro, he’s not human. Look at that!” 

Someone else giggled, breathless, “I’d let him run me over.” 

You roll your eyes, even as your stomach tugs uncomfortably. You know it shouldn’t bother you. It’s Caleb. Of course people are going to stare. He's gorgeous. He’s lethal. He’s out here making every single one of them feel like they’ve never seen anyone ride before. But still—he’s yours. And you hate how easily people forget that. 

Then he sees you. 

You don’t know how, but his helmeted head tilts just slightly in your direction mid-ride, and something shifts. He leans forward, kicks the throttle—and takes aim at the tallest ramp on the field. 

You hold your breath. 

He doesn’t slow down. He accelerates. His body tenses just right, a perfect curl of muscle and motion, and the bike lifts into a backflip. A full backflip. The crowd explodes. Dirt sprays outward from the impact of his landing, but he barely flinches. You think you might’ve stopped breathing. 

And when he comes back around… 

He’s shirtless. 

Somehow, between then and now, he’s stripped out of his dark shirt and tossed it off. His body gleams under the brutal sun—cut, lean, streaked with dirt and sweat and power. Muscles roll across his chest and arms as he rides, and right there against the pale gold of his skin, you see it: 

His dog tag. 

The one you gave him. 

It bounces slightly against his collarbone, catching the light with every turn.  

The crowd screams louder now, and it isn’t just excitement—it’s hunger. You can hear it in their voices. Men stare openly, some cheering, some shaking their heads in disbelief. Women fan themselves or lean over the barricades, trying to catch his attention. A girl near the fence actually calls out, “Caleb! Take me for a ride next!” 

But he doesn’t look at any of them. 

He rides straight to you. 

Engine rumbling low, dirt speckled across his abs and jaw, Caleb pulls up right in front of you and slides off the bike in one smooth motion. His boots crunch the clay as he walks closer. You’re already holding the water bottle out for him, your expression hovering somewhere between amused and flustered. 

He yanks his helmet off one-handed. 

His hair is wild, matted with sweat and dust, dark strands clinging to his forehead. His skin glistens, sun-kissed and marked with effort. And yet his eyes—sharp, narrowed, already smirking—are only for you. 

“Here,” you offer, holding the water out. 

He takes it without breaking eye contact, his fingers brushing yours. His dog tag swings lightly against his chest as he tips the bottle back, his throat works with every gulp, his free hand dragging through his messy hair. The water glints as it runs down his chin, soaking into the dirt smudged along his collarbone, his stomach, vanishing into the waistband of his low-slung riding pants. 

Finally, you manage, “What happened to your shirt?” 

The roar of engines and voices around you makes it hard to hear. Caleb cups a hand to his ear dramatically, that crooked grin stretching wider as he leans in to shout at you over the noise- 

“What was that, pipsqueak?!” 

You roll your eyes, heat blooming across your cheeks. “I said, where’s your shirt, showoff?” 

When he finally pulls the bottle away, he exhales, smirking again as he leans one arm on the handlebar beside you. “Didn’t want to ruin it,” he says, nodding toward where the shirt’s been abandoned near a tool cart. 

You arch a brow. “Or maybe you just wanted everyone to see your shiny muscles.” 

“Jealous?” he murmurs, voice low now, voice just for you. 

Your cheeks burn. “Of what? The bike or the girls trying to throw themselves onto the track?” 

He chuckles, leaning in even closer, his breath warm. “Neither of them get this close to me.” 

The crowd roars again somewhere behind you as another rider takes off. But in this moment, it feels like you and Caleb are suspended in your own heat-soaked world, your heart thudding louder than the engines, louder than anything. 

You barely have time to register the cheers behind him before Caleb sets the water bottle down and reaches for your hand. 

“Come on,” he says, voice still rough from exertion, low enough that it’s meant only for you. 

You blink. “Come on… what?” 

His eyes gleam, teasing. “Ride with me.” 

Your lips part. “I—wait—no, no way. I am not doing a backflip, Gege.” 

He laughs then, that warm, velvety chuckle that starts in his chest and makes your stomach flutter like you’ve just gone over a drop. 

“No, Meimei,” he says, soft but deliberate. He lifts your hand to his lips and brushes a dusty kiss across your knuckles before tugging you gently toward the bike. “Not for stunts. Just want to show you something. There’s a spot—on the other side of the track. No crowds. You’ll like it.” 

You hesitate. “I’m still not sure I trust you with my spinal integrity.” 

His grin widens, all crooked charm and glinting teeth. “I’ve held you closer than this on worse terrain.” 

You flush. 

He turns and grabs his helmet, the bright orange shell streaked with dirt, the inside dark with sweat. He doesn’t even think twice before offering it to you. “Here.” 

You take it reluctantly. It’s still warm from his body, the scent of him soaked into the padding—salt and sun and something uniquely Caleb, like gunmetal and citrus and the faintest trace of that cologne he used to wear just for you. You blink down at it, heart skittering. 

“Smells like you,” you murmur. 

He smirks, wickedly pleased. “Yeah? I’ll sweat in it for you anytime.” 

“Gross.” 

“Liar.” 

You narrow your eyes at him but slide the helmet on. It’s slightly too big, heavy and snug at once, and every part of it carries him. He’s already swinging a leg over the bike again, settling into place with that easy, confident grace that’s second nature to him. 

“Climb on, Meimei,” he says over his shoulder. “I’ll go slow.” 

You scoff but obey, carefully stepping forward and gripping his shoulders as you straddle the seat behind him. The heat of his body radiates through your thighs instantly, and when you finally wrap your arms around his bare torso, it’s like touching fire—his back damp with sweat, muscles shifting beneath your palms, every movement alive with strength. 

Your breath catches. 

He smells even better up close. 

You feel the dog tag where it rests near his heart, cool and hard against your arm, and you press your cheek to his back before you realize what you’re doing. 

Caleb doesn’t comment. 

But you feel him smile. 

The engine growls to life, and your grip tightens instinctively. Your heart is thudding now—not from fear, but from something hotter, deeper. You’re completely pressed against him, legs tucked against the curve of his hips, chest to his spine, your pulse syncing with the vibrations of the bike as he takes off. 

He doesn’t speed. 

Not this time. 

He weaves smoothly across the track, away from the noise, away from the crowd, until the roar fades to a distant hum. You pass one last mound of sunbaked earth, and then suddenly the world opens up—quiet, golden, framed by a shallow tree line and the stretch of empty land behind the arena. 

The air smells like dust and wild grass, and the sun hits everything just right. 

Caleb coasts to a stop. 

The bike settles beneath you, the engine falling silent. You hesitate for a second longer before finally letting go of him. Your hands slide down his sides as you draw back, and you swear you feel him shiver. 

He turns slightly, watching you take the helmet off. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

You nod, cheeks warm. “Yeah. Just… my heart’s still recovering.” 

He grins. “From the ride?” 

You meet his gaze. “From you.” 

There’s a beat of stillness. 

Then Caleb swings one leg off the bike and offers his hand. You take it, and he guides you down slowly, his fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary. 

Around you, it’s quiet. No one else made it back here. No voices. No engines. Just wind, sun, the occasional chirp of cicadas. The sky is high and pale, and the earth below is warm underfoot. Caleb sets the bike’s stand and moves to stand beside you, tall and powerful, still shirtless, his skin golden and streaked with dirt. 

You look up at him. 

“What is this place?” you ask softly. 

He shrugs. “Found it after practice one night. Thought of you.” 

You blink. “Me?” 

His hand comes up to brush a stray hair off your face, his thumb trailing down the curve of your cheek. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “It’s quiet. It’s hidden. A break from all the chaos. Reminded me of how I feel when I’m with you.” 

Your breath catches again—but this time, you don’t look away. 

“You’re good at that,” you whisper. 

“At what?” 

“Making me forget anyone else exists.” 

Caleb smirks, but there’s something softer behind it now, almost reverent. His gaze drops to your lips. The dog tag swings slightly between you again. 

“Good,” he says quietly. “That’s all I ever want.” 

You’re not sure who moves first—maybe it’s you leaning closer without realizing, or maybe it’s Caleb shifting, closing the distance like it’s nothing. But suddenly, the space between you is gone. 

The wind is still. Even the cicadas hush. 

He watches you for a heartbeat longer, eyes half-lidded, sparkling violet and shadowed under his lashes. Then his gaze drops to your mouth, and his voice comes out low, like he’s still catching his breath from the ride. 

“You’re lookin’ at me like I’m about to do something reckless.” 

Your voice is barely above a whisper. “Aren’t you?” 

That smile—half cocky, half dangerous—tugs at the edge of his lips. “Always.” 

And then he kisses you. 

Not rough. Not hurried. Just heat and confidence and something a little too tender for someone who’d just launched a dirtbike forty feet into the air. 

His mouth brushes yours, testing, and when you gasp—just a little—he deepens it, tilts his head and claims it, slow and full. One of his hands comes up to cradle your cheek, dirt-smudged fingers warm on your skin, the other resting low on your waist like he’s reminding himself not to pull you any closer than this. 

The kiss hums through your body like electricity. 

He tastes like sun and dust and heat, like adrenaline and something unspoken he’s been holding back for too long. When he finally pulls back, you’re not even sure how long you’ve been standing there. You only know your knees are slightly unsteady, and your heart is no longer beating in any kind of rhythm. 

You blink up at him. 

He grins. 

You stare, dazed, and mutter the first thing that comes to mind. “What—what was that for?” 

His voice is a low drawl. “You rode the bike. Had to reward you somehow.” 

“You could’ve just said thank you.” 

“I did.” He taps your lower lip with his thumb. “That was the thank you. Want to see what the reward looks like?” 

You roll your eyes, but your face is burning. “You’re impossible.” 

“And you’re flushed, pipsqueak.” 

“Shut up.” 

Caleb laughs softly and takes your hand again, more gently this time, twining your fingers through his like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

“Come on,” he murmurs. “The spot I really wanted to show you’s back this way.” 

You glance around. There’s nothing but wild, golden grass and dusty air stretching around the edge of the arena. 

“You mean further off the track?” 

He smirks without answering, tugging you toward the tree line. 

You follow. 

The edge of the forest is cooler. The trees are tall and thin, scattered enough to let the sunlight spill through in slanted bars. Everything smells green and sun-warmed, the air quieter here, cushioned by leaves and moss. Caleb doesn’t say much as you walk. Just leads you deeper between the trees, his hand warm in yours, his bare shoulders haloed in the light that filters down through the canopy. 

Eventually, he stops. 

It’s not a clearing exactly—just a soft dip between the trees, where the sunlight hits just right, and a large, flat boulder is half-shaded under an arching tree. Wildflowers bloom at the edges. There’s the faint sound of a creek somewhere nearby. 

Caleb releases your hand and settles on the rock, one leg bent, the other stretched out. His dog tag glints as he leans back on his arms, head tilted toward the sun, eyes closed for a moment. The muscles in his abdomen shift with every breath—still damp with sweat, still dusted with dirt—but something in his posture is relaxed now. 

At ease. 

You step closer. “You really do come here alone?” 

He opens one eye. “Usually.” 

“Why bring me?” 

He smiles. “Because I wanted you to see what it’s like when everything shuts up.” 

You pause. “You mean the crowd?” 

He nods. “And the shouting. The adrenaline. The expectations. Out there, I’m someone else. Fast. Loud. Always watched.” 

You step beside him, feeling the quiet settle between the trees. “And here?” 

He looks up at you with something softer in his gaze. “Here, I’m just… me. And you’re you. And no one’s around to get in the way.” 

The wind stirs the leaves above you. 

He pats the stone beside him. “Sit with me, Meimei.” 

You hesitate just long enough to make him smirk again, but you do. You perch beside him, careful at first, until he reaches out and pulls you just slightly closer—your thigh brushing his, the line of his arm warm where it rests behind you. 

The silence stretches, easy and golden. 

You steal a glance at him—at the way the light catches the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his smile, the dog tag resting against his chest. 

And suddenly you’re thinking less about how hot the day is… 

And more about how close you are to doing something just as reckless as him. 

The silence in the forest is warm and sweet, birdsong drifting lazily overhead, but you can feel Caleb’s gaze long before he speaks. 

He doesn’t look away when you turn your head. 

Instead, he tilts his body just enough to face you, one leg still dangling off the edge of the boulder, the other shifting so his knee brushes yours. The proximity sets your pulse skipping again—and then he leans in. 

“You know,” he murmurs, voice low and unhurried, “you never did tell me how you knew I was going to be here.” 

Your breath catches. 

His tone is casual, but his eyes are sharp, glinting with curiosity—and something else, something dangerous. You open your mouth, trying to think of a clever response, but his gaze drops to your lips and your brain decides now would be a great time to shut down completely. 

He grins, clearly enjoying this. 

“I didn’t exactly broadcast it,” he goes on, slow and smug. “Didn’t post it. Didn’t message anyone. Certainly didn’t tell you.” 

You swallow, heart thudding. 

“And by the looks of it…” He reaches out, brushing his fingers down the edge of your sleeve like he’s just now pretending to notice. “Those aren’t casual clothes, pipsqueak.” 

You stiffen instinctively. “So what?” 

“So,” he drawls, leaning in close, “I’d bet anything you left work early. Rushed straight here.” 

“I—” You don’t get the rest of the sentence out because suddenly Caleb’s nose brushes your neck. 

Not quite a kiss—not yet—just a light nudge, slow and deliberate, like he’s drawing in your scent. His breath hits your skin, warm and unhurried, and your whole body jolts like he touched you with electricity. 

“You did,” he whispers against your throat. “Didn’t even stop to change.” 

Your breath hitches. 

His nose drags up the line of your neck, then along your jaw, until he nudges at your cheek with the same lazy, unrepentant affection. You can feel the edge of a smile against your skin. 

You’re blushing. You know you’re blushing, but you’re not sure if it’s the sun or the heat between you or the sheer unbearable closeness of him. It doesn’t matter—Caleb’s already noticed. Of course he has. 

“I had a feeling,” you mutter, trying—and failing—to keep your voice even. 

He pulls back just enough to look at you, golden eyes gleaming. “A feeling?” 

“That you’d be here,” you say quickly. “I didn’t want to miss it.” 

“Mhm.”  

Your mouth runs ahead of your brain again. “And what about you?” you demand, poking him lightly in the chest. “You clocked me immediately when I arrived, even with your helmet on. There were hundreds of people out there, and you still—” 

He laughs, low and rough. “Of course I did.” 

You blink. 

He shifts closer, so close you can feel the heat of his skin through your clothes. His voice dips into something husky and deliberate, sending another shiver skittering down your spine. 

“You really think I wouldn’t notice the moment you showed up?” 

Your breath stalls. 

Caleb doesn’t stop there. He leans in again, this time pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your jaw. Just one. Light. Barely there. 

But it’s enough. 

You turn your head toward him instinctively—and now his lips are a whisper away from yours. 

“If anyone in that arena had a heartbeat like yours when I landed that flip,” he murmurs, “I would’ve heard it.” 

You try to say something, anything, but your voice catches in your throat. 

“And by the way,” he adds with a low laugh, “you’re not exactly hard to spot, Meimei. You’re the only one I look for.” 

And then he kisses you again. 

Not slow this time. 

Hot. 

Confident. 

Teasing. 

His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head as he deepens the kiss, tongue brushing your lower lip before coaxing it open. You melt before you can stop yourself, your hands gripping the edge of the rock—or maybe his thigh—anything to keep steady. 

The kiss leaves you dizzy, breathless, full of too many things to name. 

When he finally pulls back, he’s smirking again, eyes half-lidded with heat. 

“Still jealous?” he asks, all smugness. 

You try to answer. You try. 

Instead, you squeak out something like, “Shut up.” 

He grins. “Didn’t sound like a no.” 

You shove him—lightly—but he just catches your wrist, lacing your fingers with his again. 

“C’mon,” he says, rising smoothly to his feet and tugging you up with him. “Let’s walk a little further in. There’s a part of the forest where the trees are thicker. Nobody comes out that far.” 

You eye him. “And why would we go out that far?” 

Caleb lifts his brows, amused. “So we can be alone.” 

The deeper you follow him into the woods, the quieter the world becomes. 

The roar of engines, the cheers of the crowd—gone. All that’s left is birdsong, the soft hush of leaves swaying overhead, and the steady crunch of your boots against sun-dappled earth. 

Boots that are absolutely not meant for this kind of terrain. 

You stumble over a gnarled root, cursing under your breath. Caleb doesn’t miss a beat. His hand’s already there, wrapping around your wrist, steadying you like it’s second nature—because it is. 

“Tsk.” He glances back with a lopsided smirk. “Those boots were made for desks, not dirt trails.” 

You scowl at him, but he doesn’t let go. 

His fingers stay wrapped around yours, warm and calloused, thumb stroking absentminded circles against your skin as he guides you deeper into the trees. You want to pull away—should—but you don’t. 

He’s still shirtless, the sunlight filtering through the canopy catching on the sweat slicking his chest, his arms, his abs. Every time he moves, muscle flexes and shadows shift, making it very hard not to stare. 

Which you’re definitely not doing. 

Except maybe you are. 

And Caleb notices. 

Oh, he notices. 

When you finally reach the spot he’d mentioned, your breath catches—not just from the walk, but from the place itself. The trees open into a small clearing, ringed with wildflowers and golden grass. The sunlight here is soft and warm, streaming in through high branches like something out of a dream. 

You turn slowly, taking it in. 

And that’s when Caleb moves. 

Before you realize what’s happening, he’s behind you—right behind you—and then you’re being gently, firmly, backed against a tall tree, you quickly spin around and feel the bark cool and rough against your spine. His arms go up on either side of your head, caging you in. One foot slides between yours. The air thickens instantly. 

“Nice view, huh?” he murmurs, eyes flicking down to your mouth. “Glad you made it all the way here in those heels.” 

“They’re not heels,” you mumble, trying—and failing—to sound irritated. 

“Oh? Just office-approved tread then?” He chuckles low in his throat. “You really did come straight from work.” 

You grit your teeth. “So what if I did?” 

Caleb tilts his head, eyes darkening with something deeper. 

“You didn’t even change,” he says softly, like it’s a secret, “didn’t even think about it. You just ran out the door.” His voice lowers another notch. “Just to see me.” 

Your cheeks burn, but your gaze stays locked on his. 

“And I bet,” he continues, one hand dropping to gently trace the collar of your blouse, the edge of his fingers brushing your skin, “when you saw me shirtless—sweat, dirt, and all—your heart started racing, didn’t it?” 

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. 

Caleb’s grin grows. 

“Oh, Meimei,” he drawls, dragging the word out like a promise. “You were looking at me like you were about to fall apart.” 

“I was not—!” 

“You were.” He dips lower, his nose grazing your jaw. “I saw it. That little flush you got. The way you stopped breathing when I took my helmet off. The way your eyes locked right here—” He presses two fingers to the dip between his pecs, right where his dog tag necklace glints faintly in the sun, slick with sweat and dust. “You kept staring.” 

Your fingers curl into the bark behind you. “That’s not fair.” 

“Mm,” Caleb hums, leaning closer, his lips brushing your cheek now. “No, what’s not fair is how you expect me to stay calm when you’re out here looking at me like that. With your lips parted. All flustered. Like I could just…” His hand slides to your waist, pulling you flush against him. “...kiss you senseless and no one would hear.” 

Your heart stutters violently. 

“You wouldn’t.” 

His smirk turns razor-sharp. “Wouldn’t I?” 

And then he kisses you. 

No warning this time. No teasing brush of lips. 

Just heat—searing, consuming, all teeth and tongue and hunger. 

You gasp into his mouth, fingers shooting up to grip his shoulders. Caleb groans low, like the sound of your surprise fuels him. He kisses you harder, one hand gripping your hip, the other sliding up your spine until he’s holding the back of your neck, possessive and unrelenting. 

When he finally pulls away, you're dizzy—shaken—and very aware of how tightly you're clinging to him. 

Caleb doesn’t move far. His forehead rests against yours, his breath hot and fast. 

“No one gets to see you like this,” he whispers. “No one but me.” 

You nod, barely managing it. 

“Say it,” he commands, voice rough and low. 

Your lips part, breathless. “Just you.” 

Caleb smirks again, but this time there’s no humor in it—just heat and possession and want. 

“Damn right, Meimei.” 

He presses one more kiss to your cheek, slower this time, and then murmurs against your skin: 

“You’re not getting away now.” 

His mouth crashes against yours again, but this time there’s no warning—no teasing smirk, no murmured taunt. 

Just heat. 

Hot, desperate, claiming. 

His hands find your hips and grip hard and you respond instantly, arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him closer until there’s nothing but sweat and skin and the furious beating of two hearts in sync. 

“Caleb—” you gasp against his lips, but he swallows the sound, tongue sweeping deep, hungry. It’s a kiss that says mine, and when he finally breaks it, his voice is low, rasping. 

“ Meimei…” 

Your blouse is clinging to you, damp from the heat, sticking to your skin in places—and he’s had enough of it. He tugs it loose, fingers slipping over your stomach, up your sides, trailing fire with every touch. 

“Too many layers,” he growls, pulling back just far enough to meet your eyes. “It’s too damn hot. Take it off.” 

You hesitate, only for a second—but he’s already undoing the top button, the dog tag you gave him glinting between you as he works down the row, eyes never leaving yours. 

By the time your blouse is undone and slipping off your shoulders, you’re trembling—not from fear, not from the heat, but from anticipation. 

He drinks you in with a low, rough sound that shoots straight through you. 

“God, look at you…” 

The backs of your legs brush against the rough bark of the tree again as he presses closer, lips crashing into yours one more time—harder, more insistent. His hands are everywhere now: sliding down your spine, cupping your thighs, gripping your waist. He groans into your mouth when you arch against him, and the sound makes you melt. 

“Been thinking about this,” he pants between kisses. “Every time you looked at me like that. Every time you bit your lip while I was training. You don’t even notice what you do to me.” 

You gasp as he shifts, hand sliding down and gripping your thigh firmly, hitching it around his waist. The friction sends sparks through you, and your head falls back against the tree as his mouth trails hot, open kisses down your neck. 

“You smell like my sweat,” he murmurs against your skin, voice thick with desire. “You know how much that turns me on?” 

You barely manage a whimper. 

His hand cups your jaw, forcing your eyes back to his. 

“Tell me you want this.” 

“I—yes,” you breathe. “I want you.” 

That’s all he needs. 

His mouth is back on yours in an instant, while his hands roam with purpose. One slides under your bra, groaning when he feels how fast your heart is racing beneath his touch. The other slips beneath your waistband, fingers moving with wicked intent. 

“Been dreaming about the sounds you make,” he mutters against your mouth, teeth grazing your bottom lip. “Want to hear them all.” 

You’re barely coherent, fingers digging into his shoulders as he presses his forehead against yours, breathing ragged. 

“You always let me tease you, Meimei,” he growls. “But you know I don’t play fair. Not when I finally get you alone.” 

“Then don’t,” you whisper, voice shaking. “Don’t play fair.” 

He chuckles darkly. “You sure?” 

You nod, dazed. “Please.” 

That’s the moment the tension snaps. 

Clothes are tugged and shoved away, dirt be damned. Your work pants join your blouse, discarded somewhere beside Caleb’s gloves and his sweat-soaked helmet. The air is hot, heavy with the scent of sun-warmed pine, dust, and him—and you’ve never been more aware of your body. 

Or his. 

Every muscle under his skin moves like liquid steel, glistening and tight. He kisses you like he owns you—because in this moment, he does. 

His voice breaks through the haze, low and guttural as he presses his forehead against yours again. 

“I’m not gonna last long,” he warns, breath hot. “Not when you’re like this.” 

“Then don’t,” you murmur, your voice nearly lost in the sound of rustling leaves and your own heartbeat. “Just take me.” 

And he does. 

You gasp softly as he lowers his head to your neck, he kisses the curve of your shoulder with aching tenderness—then bites. Just enough to sting. Just enough to remind you exactly who’s touching you. 

“You’re flushed,” he murmurs against your skin, tongue flicking out to taste the salt from your sweat. “Shaking.” His lips trail higher, to the edge of your jaw, brushing, brushing, before his teeth catch your earlobe.  

His hand slides down, warm palm gliding over your stomach, and then lower—until he’s cupping your core. He’s slow, deliberate. Two fingers stroke through the slick heat between your thighs and you instinctively press closer, chest arching into his. 

“So wet for me,” he growls, almost to himself. “God, you were made for me.” 

His fingers move in smooth, slow circles—tormenting. You whimper, legs already starting to tremble. Your nails scrape lightly down his back, needing more, but he doesn’t speed up. Not yet. 

Instead, he watches you. Studies your every twitch, every gasp, every plea caught on your tongue. 

Then—snap. 

You’re spun around gently, back pressing to his chest now instead of the tree. His hands guide your hips, pulling you backward against him. You can feel how hard he is already, thick and pulsing through the last shred of fabric between you. 

His mouth is back at your neck, kissing a line down your spine. “I love how quiet you try to be,” he says low and rough, “when there’s no one around to hear you but me.” 

You whimper again as his hand slides around to your chest, fingers brushing over one nipple, then the other, pinching lightly. His other hand strokes your inner thigh, fingers grazing—then sinking inside you, slow and deep. 

You cry out softly, and he groans right behind your ear. “That’s it. Let me hear you, Meimei.” 

You’re barely standing by the time he removes his hand. You feel the loss, but only for a second—then he’s lifting you, your back flush to the bark now, and you feel him positioning himself between your thighs. 

“Hold onto me.” 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist without thinking, and then— 

He thrusts into you, slow at first, a deep, burning stretch that steals the air from your lungs. You cry out, nails digging into his shoulders, and he groans against your throat. 

“Fuck, you feel so good…” 

He starts to move, grinding deeper, slower this time—each thrust perfectly angled, purposeful. He knows exactly what he's doing, how to push you to the edge, how to keep you there. You feel every inch of him, every flex of his body pressing into yours, and it’s bliss. 

“Look at me,” he demands, voice breathless. 

You force your eyes open. His gaze catches yours—burning, possessive, feral. 

“That’s it,” he pants, kissing you hard. “Only you get this. No one else. All of them in the stands can look, can scream my name—but you? You’re the one I want. Always.” 

Your reply is lost in another moan as he hits that perfect spot again, and again. His rhythm picks up. The control he’d kept all this time starts to fray—his movements becoming more raw, more desperate. 

The bark behind you scratches your back slightly, the sun beats down on your skin, and Caleb’s mouth is all over you—your neck, your collarbone, your lips, your chest. 

His teeth graze one nipple, tongue swirling, and your whole body arches. He groans at your reaction, rutting harder, more erratic now. 

“I need to feel you fall apart,” he rasps. “Right here. On me.” 

You’re already so close—so close. 

And then his thumb is there again, brushing quick circles where you’re most sensitive, and it’s too much. You shatter with a cry, body seizing around him as waves of pleasure crash over you. 

Caleb follows a moment later, slamming deep one last time with a groan torn from his throat—raw and wild. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes clenched shut as he pulses inside you, still grinding slow and deep through the aftershocks. 

The forest falls quiet again. Just your breathing, the rustling of leaves, and the steady thrum of your heart. 

You stay there for a long moment, clinging to him, forehead against his, trying to catch your breath. 

When he finally speaks, it’s soft, hoarse. 

“I wasn’t planning on that,” he says with a breathless laugh. “But… damn.” 

You laugh weakly. “You said you weren’t done.” 

He lifts you gently off him, careful, still holding you steady. 

“I’m never done with you.” 

_

[aldremist]

Warning: !Highly recommend listening with headphones!

This one was a little tough 😅 it may be some bad audio transitions but… I tried

*Audio of Xavier is from the game*

[aldremist]

This was created because I'm ovulating and I was inspired by this art (link here).

What happens when you catch each LI humping a pillow? 🥵🥵

FOLLOW EKAY!!! art is amazing!!!

Full pictures are on Bluesky and X.

"What the hell?" That definitely sounded like Caleb, but the way he called your name was different. Not playful or teasing like usual. It was raw, desperate, almost pained. For a moment you think Caleb must have heard you come home and is calling for you from the kitchen. But the sound comes again, louder and it's clear something is very wrong.

You freeze on the stairs, hand tightening on the railing as you realize the noise is coming from upstairs.

Against your better judgment, you find yourself moving up the stairs, footsteps silent on the carpeted steps. You creep closer to his bedroom door, which is slightly open. You hear him grunt, followed by the creaking of bedsprings. Your stomach twists into knots as you push the door open a little wider, peeking inside.

The sight that greets you steals the breath from your lungs. 

Caleb, is on his knees on the bed, holding with both hands a pillow that is clutched tightly between his legs. His abs flex and tense with each thrust of his hips, the defined lines of his six pack glistening with a sheen of sweat.

A deep moan tears from his throat, your name falling from his lips like a prayer and a plea all at once. "Y/N..." he grunts with a sharp buck of his hips. The metal dog tag you gave him, the one he never takes off, swings and clanks against his chest with every movement.

His face is flushed a deep red, eyes open in concentration as he loses himself in his own twisted fantasy. His dark brown hair falls messily over his forehead, a few damp strands clinging to his skin. He looks lost in his own world, chasing some dark desire that you can only imagine involves you.

You stand there frozen, feeling a confusing mix of shock and embarrassment. You know you should look away, give him privacy, but you can't seem to tear your eyes from the sight of him so consumed by lust.

His breathing comes in ragged pants, chest heaving as he continues to grind against the pillow.

You don't know whether to be flattered, terrified, or turned on. Probably all three. But most of all, you are stunned. You had no idea Caleb was this intense.

The sound of the pillow rubbing against his heavy balls up to the tip of his cock, already slick with precum, makes you squeeze your thighs together.

"Fuck, pipsqueak..." Caleb grunts, "You feel so fucking good, baby. So tight and perfect around my cock." He gives a sharp thrust and the pillowcase darkens with his precum.

His filthy whispers fill the room, painting a vivid picture of the act he wishes he was performing on you. "Gonna fill this sweet little pussy up. Pump you so full of my cum, you'll be dripping with it for days."

Your cheeks flush hotly at his words. You've never heard Caleb speak like this before. It's raw, it's real, and it's terrifyingly intense. A dark shiver runs through you as you imagine him saying those things to you, doing those things to you.

Caleb seems to be chasing something, a release he desperately needs. His grip on the pillow tightens, knuckles turning white as he holds on for dear life. The bed frame creaks beneath him, "Fuck, I need it... I need you... Gonna cum... Gonna fucking cum..." he snarls, hips jerking erratically now. The pillow case is thoroughly soaked, the spreading dark patch testifying to his desperation.

A gasp escapes you as you take an unconscious step forward, the door swings open a bit more. In that same moment, Caleb's head snaps up, eyes flying open wide as he realizes he's no longer alone.

But it's too late. Far too late to stop the inevitable. With a deep moan that echoes off the walls, Caleb's back arches as he finds his release. His hips jerk forward one last time, and thick ropes of pearly white cum erupt from his cock, splattering obscenely across his stomach and chest.

Some of it even reaches his flushed cheek, a single strand dangling from his jawline as he pants harshly, struggling to catch his breath. His pelvis is glazed with his cum, the patch of hair there dripping with his seed.

For a moment, time seems to stand still. Caleb stares at you, eyes blazing with emotions, shock, embarrassment, but above all, hunger. It's like he's seeing straight into your soul and you are frozen in place, your own breath coming in shallow gasps. You don't know what to say, what to do. You are not sure if you should run, scream, or...god help you...take a step closer and let him pull you into his arms.

So you do the only thing you can think of.  You step out of the room, you let the door swing shut behind you with a soft click. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest as you stand there, back pressed against the closed door. You can still picture the look on his face, the raw need that contorted his features. It will be burned into you mind forever.

How can we go back to the way things were after this? 

Your heart skips a beat as you hear an unfamiliar noise coming from Sylus' room. It sounds like...grunting? You pause midstep, standing still just outside his bedroom door.

There's a strange, rhythmic creaking of bedsprings that makes your brows furrow. What on earth is Sylus doing in there at this hour, especially if he's not a morning person? You've never heard him make noises like that before. Perhaps surprising him like this wasn't the best idea after all.

You open the door slowly, maybe he is having a nightmare you tell yourself. Your heart lurches into your throat, eyes widening in shock. He is not having a nightmare, but something far more...intense. He's kneeling on the bed, gripping a pillow tightly between his thighs. The way his arm clutches it, fingers digging into the fabric, suggests a desperate, almost feral need.

His other hand is fisted in the sheets behind him, knuckles white from the force of his grip. The bed creaks and sways with his movements, the rocking of his hips unmistakable even in the dim light. He's panting, low grunts and growls rumbling from his chest as he grinds himself against the pillow, chasing his pleasure.

Shock roots you to the spot, hand still on the door handle. He's looking down at his throbbing cock, watching it, each slow thrust. His hips roll slowly at first, the movement controlled as he builds towards his peak.

"Fuck, kitten," he grunts, "You take me so deep, all the way into that tight little throat. That's it, open wider, take every fucking inch..."

You feel heat between your legs at the sound of his filthy words, arousal dampening the fabric of your panties

Suddenly, his thrusts turn quick and desperate, the arm gripping the bed slipping a bit. The sound of the pillowcase rubbing against him and the slap of his cock against his stomach fill the room. Beads of precum smear across his skin with each thrust.

You can't look away, even as your cheeks burn and your core throbs with need. You know Sylus is seconds away from coming, his thrusts becoming desperate.

He is fully lost now head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, you bite your lip hard, stifling the moan that threatens to spill out. You are not even touching yourself but you can feel your body responding to his fantasy as if it were real. As if you were the one on your knees, choking on his thick cock, gagging for his seed.

You gasp softly as he orgasms, his long moan of "Take it all, kitten... suck me dry" echoing through the room. The sight of his hot cum splattering across his stomach and staining the sheets is shockingly erotic.

There's so much of it. Thick, creamy ropes of cum paint his skin and the pillow beneath him. You can't help but picture how it would feel, the weight of it heavy and warm on your tongue, sliding down your throat. The thought makes your mouth water.

His cock pulses and throbs as he rides out his orgasm, spurting the last few weak drops of cum onto the pillow. His chest heaves as he catches his breath, arm gripping the sheets trembling slightly.

You are about to close his door when you hear his voice again. You freeze, hand still on the door handle, as he speaks.

"You, watching me, made this much more pleasurable, kitten. Don't walk away now."

You should have known you couldnt slip away unnoticed.

Fuck

Three weeks, that's how long you were on a mission and apart from him.

When you open the front door and walk in you notice the house is quiet, too quiet, as you set your bag down by the shoe rack, kicking off your boots.

Your heart flutters with anticipation as you tiptoe down the hallway, the wooden floorboards creaking softly beneath your feet. The early morning sunlight peeks through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the house as you approach the slightly open bedroom door.

"Y/n...fuuuuuuuck"

He couldn't be...was he?

He was.

Your mouth falls open in shock when you see Zayne. He's on his hands and knees on the bed, a pillow placed between his legs. One hand grips the pillow tightly, holding it firmly against his body as he slowly thrusts his hips, his hard cock trapped between the pillow and his pelvis.

His other hand clutches the bedsheets in front of him like a lifeline. His black hair falls forward, hiding his eyes as his broad shoulders rise and fall with each breath. The room is filled with the soft, rhythmic sound of the bed creaking with his movements and the stifled groans that escape his lips. The sight of his muscular back moving with each thrust sends a shiver down your spine and ignites a fire low in your belly.

You realize that he's not just turned on, but he's already found his release once, the pillowcase, now soaked with his essence, testifies to it. He's using the damp fabric, slick with his cum, to bring himself to the brink again.

His cock, the tip an angry, almost painful shade of red, pulses and throbs with need. His balls draw up tight, and his toes curl.

His face, usually so stoic and controlled, is flushed and you can tell he's on the very edge of another orgasm. Your heart pounds wildly as you watch him chase his release, his hips moving more urgently now. His hand claws at the sheets, bunching the fabric in his fist.

Your own body responds with a deep throb of desire. You can feel the dampness pooling between your thighs, the way your nipples strain against the fabric of your bra. But you remain still, a silent witness to the intimate moment, not wanting to startle him.

He yanks the pillow closer, using it for more friction, more stimulation. "Fuck..." he growls "Always so fucking tight... such a dirty girl...making me cum twice"

Contrary to before, he doesn't hold back his noises this time. A guttural moan, tears from his throat as he finds his release. It's followed by a litany of curses, each one punctuated by the jerking of his hips and the pulsing of his cock.

"Fuck... shit... damn..." he growls, "Take it... take my fucking cum..." You are sure the sight of him losing control, surrendering to the overwhelming pleasure, will be seared into your mind forever.

You step into the room and walk towards Zayne, eyes drinking in the sight of him, back glistening with sweat, his hips still twitching with the aftershocks of his climax. As you approach him, he slowly turns his head, his eyes blinking in surprise and confusion as they meet yours. He's still gripping the sheets and pillow tightly.

Without hesitation, you reach out and swipe a finger along the tip of his softening cock, collecting the pearly drops of his release that cling to the sensitive skin. Then you bring your finger to your mouth, keeping eye contact with him as you slowly lick it clean, savoring the salty, slightly bitter taste of him.

"Surprise, honey," you say softly, a playful smirk playing at the corners of your mouth. "I'm home early."

You sigh softly as you remember the last time you saw Rafayel, just a few days ago. He had been absorbed in his painting, hunched over a large canvas propped up in his art studio.

You open his front door and walk inside, a basket of freshly prepared food tucked under your arm. You walk to his studio but he is not in there.

An unusual sound drifting down from upstairs makes you stop in place. It's a soft, strangled noise.

Was that a whimper?

Your brows furrow with concern and you set the basket of food down quietly on the staircase, not wanting to disturb whatever may be happening, but unwilling to ignore what sounds like distress.

Climbing the stairs quietly you approach Rafayel's bedroom door. The whimpering grows louder, now unmistakable. Your hand hovers over the doorknob and you take a deep breath, slowly turning the doorknob. As you push the door open just a bit, you peek through to see Rafayel.

It's not his face flushed a deep shade of red that extends to the tips of his ears or the sweat dripping down his chest that makes your heart skip a beat. It's the way he's positioned on the bed, with a pillow clutched tightly between his legs, his hips rocking and rutting against it with desperate, needy thrusts. His left hand gripping the pillow tightly, keeping it firmly in place as his other hand braces against the mattress, holding himself up.

Desperate whimpers and whines spill from his lips as he grinds his hips against the pillow, his eyes screwed shut in a mix of pleasure and what looks like anguish.

Rafayel pulls the pillow closer, the tip of his cock becomes visible with each thrust. It disappears and reappears, glistening with precum as he thrust against the fabric. It makes your face flush hotly, your eyes going wide as you instinctively press a hand to your mouth to stifle any sound.

"Please... please cutie... let me cum..." Rafayel whimpers "Please, I need it so bad... I can't... I can't hold back anymore..." You've only witnessed him in this state once before, and the memory of that intimate moment together flashes through your mind. The raw need in his eyes as he begged you to let him find release within your warmth and tightness.

A single tear of frustration trickles down his flushed cheek, glistening in the soft light. His abs clench and flex with each thrust against the pillow. "Fuck... I can ... smell her..." he chokes out, his voice breaking with need. The pillow is now soaked with his sweat and the weeping tip of his cock.

It's clear that Rafayel is thinking of you, craving you, desperate to fill you and but he is also having trouble reaching his peak, so you decide to help.

You walk softly towards the bed, as you approach, his thrusts against the pillow falter, then stop altogether. He looks up at you with wide, teary eyes, his cheeks burning an even deeper shade of red.

That's when you see the raw vulnerability and need in his expression, the way he's stripped bare of all his usual composure and confidence. It's both humbling and deeply intimate, a rare glimpse into the true depth of his desire for you.

Sitting down gently beside him on the bed, you lean in close, your lips nearly brushing the shell of his ear and in a soft, encouraging whisper, you breathe out the words:

"Keep going, Raf. Cum for me."

Those three simple words, spoken with such gentle encouragement, seem to be the final push Rafayel needs. His eyes flutter closed, a look of pure bliss spreading across his face.

With a hoarse cry of your name, Rafayel's body goes rigid, his hips jerking forward as he finds his much needed release. Thick, hot ropes of his cum spurt from his fat cock, coating the pillow and his hand as he grips it with white knuckles.

"Such a good boy, Raf," you coo softly, reaching out to gently brush a damp lock of hair from his forehead. Your touch makes him shiver, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours.

You're glad you brought food, because you know you will both need it after the long day and night ahead of you.

You slip the key he gave you into the lock and turn it slowly, easing the door open as quietly as possible. The apartment is dimly lit and you can hear the gentle hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of traffic, but otherwise, it's quiet.

Closing the door behind you, you pad softly into the kitchen. You have a plan, start on breakfast, then wake him so he can eat something. He's probably exhausted from his mission, and you want to make sure he has a nice, relaxing morning. Maybe he forgot you were supposed to have breakfast together this morning.

You open the fridge and start gathering ingredients, eggs, bacon, some fresh fruit. You had found a recipe online that looked delicious and you thought he might enjoy it.

The sound of something slamming softly against the wall grabs your attention. Concerned you walk towards his bedroom, leaving the ingredients on the kitchen counter, the sound growing louder with each step. Gently you turn the doorknob and ease the door to his bedroom open, just a little bit at first. But once you open it a little bit more the sight that greets you makes your breath catch in your throat.

Xavier is sprawled naked on his back, body bathed in the soft glow of the lights filtering through the window. His legs are bent, knees up and feet flat on the bed. Nestled between his thighs is a pillow, and you can see his hips rocking slowly, rubbing the pillow against his lenght.

Your gaze is drawn to his cock, standing proud against his stomach. You can see pearly drops of precum dripping from the swollen, flushed tip, trailing down and pooling in his abdomen.

Unconsciously you lick your lips, imagining the taste of his skin, the feel of his body against yours.

Xavier grips the pillow tightly with both hands. His long fingers dig into the fabric as he pulls on both sides, tightening the pillow around his throbbing cock. The soft material squeezes his shaft, providing a delicious friction that has him gritting his teeth.

You can see the desperation in the way he's chasing his pleasure, the hunger that drives him to seek more, always more. His eyes are clenched shut, lost in a world of sensation and desire. A part of you wonders what he's thinking about, what fantasies are playing out behind his closed lids to have him so worked up. 

You don't have to wait long for an answer.

"Fuck, bunny..." he grunts, voice breathless. "You feel so fucking good...ngh...take it all, just like that. Squeeze me... You ride me sooooo good... fuck, you're so tight...so perfect..."

There's no doubt about it now, in his mind, he's with you, lost in a fantasy starring none other than yourself.

His words dissolve into a moan, the sound vibrating through his chest. The signs of his impending orgasm are unmistakable. His thrusts become erratic, the grip on the pillow tightening. His breathing grows ragged and shallow, each inhale ending on a sharp grunt or a moan. The muscles in his thighs and stomach tense and flex.

"Fuck,... I'm... I'm so close... Ah, shit..." Xavier pants. He throws his head back, hair splaying out around him like a halo. "Don't stop...! don't you dare fucking stop..."

And in his head you don't stop because the next second he comes undone. His back arches sharply, pressing himself against the pillow, as thick ropes of hot, sticky cum spurt from his throbbing cock.

The headboard slams against the wall with the force of his thrusts, the rhythmic banging keeping time with the throbbing pulses of his release.

His chest heaves as he struggles to catch his breath. The pillow is a mess, soaked through with his release. He collapses back onto the bed, a blissful smile playing at the corners of his lips.

For a moment, you're stunned speechless, hardly believing this really happened. Did he really just...?

Before you can overthink it, Xavier's head turns towards the door, his piercing blue gaze locking onto you. A slow, lazy smile spreads across his face, the smirk of a predator who's just spotted his prey.

"Come here, y/n," he purrs, "I noticed you were there before I came, but I wanted to keep the show going for you."

Of course he noticed you standing there, his hunter's instincts always on high alert. It's no wonder he's the best deepspace hunter. Now all you had to do was walk to him.

Easy...right?

[aldremist]

𝒮𝓃𝒾𝒻𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 - 𝒞𝒶𝓁𝑒𝒷 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝙿𝚃 𝟸- 𝒩𝒮𝐹𝒲

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: A tense, charged encounter unfolds when Caleb is caught by you after indulging in an intimate moment of self-exploration involving your underwear. The confrontation is raw, filled with guilt, desire, and a deep need to be honest. The two of you navigate the emotions, expressing desires that were previously hidden, leading to a passionate and intense physical connection.

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: Multiple Orgasm, Breeding, Rough Sex, Forbidden Attraction, Love Confession.

𝙰𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚝: _peachybunny on X

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2171

A shadow.

“Oh no.”

His stomach drops. That shadow isn’t just anyone. It’s you.

You’re home. Early.

You hadn’t said you’d be back so soon. Maybe you forgot something. Maybe you didn’t want to leave things the way they ended this morning. But whatever the reason, you’re standing just outside his door—and he knows there’s no way you didn’t hear at least something.

His throat goes dry. His hands are still trembling. He doesn’t dare move, doesn’t breathe. Maybe if he stays silent, you’ll go. Maybe you didn’t see anything. Maybe you’ll convince yourself the noises were just a movie. Or music. Or—

Knock.

A soft one. Gentle. Hesitant.

“Caleb?” Your voice—so quiet, but not angry. Just confused. Concerned. Like you’re unsure of what you think you heard.

He doesn’t respond.

Another pause. Then—

“You okay?”

His chest tightens. He wants to disappear. The shame, the lust, the twisted craving he just gave into—it crashes over him all over again.

“Y-Yeah. Just… taking a nap.” His voice cracks. Weak.

You wait a beat.

“Alright… I just forgot my badge for work.” Another pause. “I’ll be out in a second.”

Footsteps.

He listens to every one like a countdown. The front door opens. Then closes.

Silence.

He sinks to the floor, hands in his hair, heart pounding all over again—not from desire this time, but from fear. And something worse.

Guilt.

Because the truth is… he wants you to know.

He wants you to see how far gone he is for you.

And that scares him more than anything.

The apartment is quiet when you walk in.

Too quiet.

You take off your shoes, hang up your bag, and glance down the hallway. Caleb’s door is closed. No music. No light coming from underneath. Just silence.

Your eyes linger on the door.

You heard him. Every moan, every whimper, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. And the guilt in his voice when he lied… it hit something in you. Something dangerous.

You walk to the kitchen, grab a glass of water, trying to act normal. But your heart is racing.

Enough pretending.

You march down the hallway and knock—this time with intention.

“Caleb.” No response. “Open the door.”

Nothing.

You press your palm to the wood. “Please.”

A click. Slowly, the door opens. He stands there, hoodie on, hair messy, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. Guilty. Embarrassed. Scared.

“I—”

“Don’t lie to me again.” Your voice cuts through the room.

He swallows hard. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

“I heard everything, Caleb.” You step inside. The door clicks shut behind you. His body tenses, like he’s bracing for impact. “I know what you did. I know what you used.”

His cheeks turn red. “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“No.” You walk closer, heart pounding in your chest. “You wanted me to hear. You didn’t lock your door. You didn’t even try to hide it.”

His breath catches. “That’s not true.”

“Then why did you say my name?” you ask softly. “Why did you use my underwear, Caleb?”

He flinches.

“You didn’t just want to jerk off.” Your voice lowers. “You wanted me to catch you. You wanted me to see what I do to you.”

Silence. Heavy. Suffocating.

“I… I can’t stop thinking about you,” he finally whispers. “I know it’s wrong. I know I fucked up. But I’m losing my mind, (Y/N). You’re everywhere. Your scent. Your voice. Your fucking panties—” His voice breaks, thick with desperation. “I want you so fucking bad it hurts.”

You’re so close now. Inches apart.

“Then show me.” You reach for the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it over your head.

His breath hitches.

“This time, I want to see everything.”

Your shirt hits the floor with a soft thud. Caleb stares like he’s forgotten how to breathe. His gaze travels from your chest—bare except for the lacy black bra hugging your curves—to your lips, parted just slightly as you watch him.

You take a step forward. Then another. Until there’s no space left between you.

“Touch me,” you whisper, your voice soft but commanding. “You’ve been doing it in secret for so long. Let’s see if you can handle the real thing.”

His hands hover, trembling. He wants you—desperately—but fear roots him in place.

You guide his fingers to your waist. “I want this too, Caleb. I’ve wanted this.”

That’s all it takes.

He surges forward, capturing your lips in a kiss so deep, so full of repressed hunger, it knocks the air right out of your lungs. His hands grip your hips like you might vanish, his body pressed so tightly to yours you can feel the hard line of his cock—already straining against his sweatpants.

You moan into his mouth, and he growls—growls—in response. “You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined this,” he whispers against your lips.

“Then stop imagining,” you breathe, fingers slipping under the hem of his hoodie and tugging it upward. “Make it real.”

He tears it off. You reach for the waistband of his sweatpants, and he shudders when your fingers brush over his erection.

“Fuck, (Y/N)...”

It takes everything in him to not cum at the sensation of your fingertips. Fighting the urge to mess himself up right then and there.  

“Is this what you were using my panties for?” you murmur, hand now palming him over the fabric. His hips buck into your touch helplessly. “Fucking yourself while moaning my name like a filthy little perv?”

His head drops against your shoulder, breath ragged. “Yes. God, yes.”

“Good.” You push him back gently, guiding him to the bed. “Because now you’re going to fuck me.”

He sits, eyes glued to you as you strip slowly—every inch of skin revealed like a gift he never thought he’d receive. When you slide your panties down your legs and toss them in his lap, his jaw clenches.

“Keep them.” Your voice is a tease, your smirk sinful. “That way you won’t have to steal them next time.”

He groans, reaching for you. You straddle him, your dripping core grinding against his cock through his sweatpants, both of you breathless.

“I need you,” you whisper in his ear. “I want you inside me, Caleb.”

He lifts his hips, pushing the pants down just enough to free himself, his cock flushed and so hard it twitches at the sight of your slick folds above it.

“Condom?” he pants, but you shake your head.

“Not tonight.” You reach down and line him up with your entrance. “I want to feel all of you.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, you sink down onto him—and it’s heaven. His hands grip your thighs, and his head falls back with a strangled moan.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. So warm.”

You roll your hips, watching him unravel beneath you.

“Tell me how many times you thought about this,” you whisper, picking up your pace.

“Too many,” he gasps. “Every night. Every time you smiled at me. Every time I smelled your perfume. I wanted you. God, I wanted this.”

Your nails rake down his chest as you ride him harder, your own moans matching his.

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasp.

“Me too. Inside. I want to cum inside you, princess—”

Your bodies tense, then shatter together—pure, messy pleasure washing over both of you like a storm. His hands hold you tight as he fills you, his mouth on your shoulder, your name breaking from his lips like a confession.

After, you collapse on top of him, both of you slick with sweat and satisfaction.

The air is quiet again.

Only this time, it’s not tense.

It’s heavy with something else.

Something real.

Your body is still trembling from your release when Caleb flips you over in one sudden, fluid motion. You gasp, your back hitting the mattress as he hovers over you—eyes dark, lips swollen, chest rising and falling with raw, animalistic need.

“We’re not done.” His voice is low. Dangerous. Almost a growl.

You don’t get a chance to respond. His mouth crashes into yours again, hands already roaming—possessive, hungry, like he wants to memorize every inch of your body all over again.

He kisses down your throat, your chest, your stomach—leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses along the way. When he reaches between your legs, his tongue swipes up your slick folds, and you whimper.

“You taste like sin,” he murmurs into your skin, gripping your thighs and spreading you wide. “And I’m gonna worship you like the filthy little goddess you are.”

You moan as his mouth returns to your pussy, tongue teasing your clit while two fingers slide inside you, curling just right.

Your back arches. “Caleb—fuck—”

He doesn’t stop.

He devours you. Sucks your clit, fucks you with his fingers, moaning into your heat like a man possessed. Your thighs shake, hips twitching up into his face. You’re already close again.

And he knows.

“Cum for me,” he demands against your pussy, voice rough. “Cum on my fucking tongue.”

You shatter. Loud. Desperate. Legs trembling as the orgasm hits you like a wave crashing on the shore. He doesn't stop until you're crying out, pushing at his head, overstimulated.

But he’s not done.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking up at you like a man who's just tasted paradise.

Then he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head.

“Now it’s my turn again.”

He pushes inside you in one hard, deep thrust—and you scream.

“That’s it, baby. You feel that?” His mouth is right at your ear now, breath hot. “That’s how deep I need to be. I want to ruin you for anyone else.”

He pounds into you—harder, deeper, each stroke making your whole body bounce beneath him. The bed creaks. The headboard hits the wall. His rhythm is brutal. Precise. Perfect.

“Say it,” he pants. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours—fuck, Caleb—I’m yours!”

That’s all he needs.

He lets go of your wrists, one hand grabbing your throat—not tight, just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. His other hand slides down your body, rubbing circles over your swollen clit.

“You gonna cum again for me, princess?”

You nod frantically, lost in the pleasure, completely undone beneath him.

“Good.” His eyes bore into yours. “Then you’re gonna take every fucking drop when I fill you again.”

You scream as the orgasm hits, and he follows with a deep, guttural moan, his cock twitching as he cums inside you again—harder this time. So much cum, you feel it dripping out as he slows, hips still rolling into you gently.

He collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms, breath still uneven.

“We’re never going back from this,” he murmurs, voice hoarse.

You smile lazily, chest still heaving. “Good.”

The room is quiet now. Only the soft hum of the ceiling fan and your mingled breathing fills the space.

You’re curled against Caleb’s chest, his arm slung protectively around your waist, skin still warm from everything you’d just done. His fingers trace slow circles against your back, grounding himself—grounding you.

He finally breaks the silence.

“I was scared.” His voice is raw. Vulnerable. Not the cocky, composed Fleet Colonel. Just… Caleb.

You glance up at him, your cheek still resting against his chest. “Of what?”

He swallows hard. You can feel the tension in his body like a tightly wound wire finally beginning to loosen.

“Of wanting you this much.” He exhales shakily. “Of screwing everything up by being some perv who can’t stop stealing your underwear and jerking off to the thought of you.”

You blink, then snort softly. He looks down, startled, until he sees your smirk.

“You are a perv, Caleb.”

He groans, throwing his head back into the pillow. “God, I know—”

“But,” you cut him off gently, reaching up to cup his cheek, “you’re my perv. And I’ve been just as bad.”

His brow lifts slightly. “What do you mean?”

You shrug with a little grin. “You think I didn’t notice how good your ass looks in those tight flight suits? Or how I’d fake interest in your cooking just to hear you moan when you taste something you like?”

He laughs, soft and disbelieving. “So this whole time we’ve just been… dancing around each other like idiots?”

You nod. “Idiots in love.”

His smile fades, replaced by something deeper. Softer. He brushes your hair behind your ear and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you.” No hesitation. No fear. Just truth.

You blink, heart stuttering. But you don’t panic. You don’t freeze. Because you feel it too.

“I love you, Caleb.” You lean up and kiss him, slow and tender. There’s no heat in it this time—just warmth. Affection. Everything.

He wraps both arms around you and pulls you into his chest like he’s afraid you might disappear.

“No more secrets?” he murmurs.

“No more panties going missing?” you tease.

He chuckles, kissing your temple. “No promises.”

My lovely ferrymen ! Thank you so much for the support in this short series. I hope you guys liked the ending. We all know MC wants to jump his bones lol a special thank you to @cordidy @april-likes-smut @mcdepressed290 @hwangintakswifey @twilightsmissingfur @rukii-afterdark @quacker180 @lumieresdreams @nanaminsmuse @tofufairy for enjoying the first part. I hope you love this part as well. As always don't forget to show some love and support. The new banner also dropped today for us in the American Server .. IM SO NOT OKAY ..

With Angsty Love,

~The Deadstory Teller~

[aldremist]

🔞🎧 CALEB'S HEAVEN IN YOUR MOUTH

You want to give Caleb his reward for being a good boy.

He makes sure that you'll get all his cum in your mouth, every last drop.