blushofeve

[blushofeve]

Fem caleb study ✍🏽

Ipad broke so I'm back to grinding on phone 💪🏽

[blushofeve]

Note: In honor of 2k followers!!!! Everybody do the whip & nae nae 🗣️ LOLLLL!!! But seriously, once again, thank you all so, so much for liking me enough to not only read my works but to go out of your way to press that follow button. Over two thousand people made the decision to stick with me… I’m gonna cry??? Roll around on the floor??? Seriously, I sincerely hope you guys like this one. It was a… journey. Still working through my writer’s block, so I sincerely apologize if this isn’t the best. But I love you. Thank you a million times over. ENJOY!!

Warning: Stalker/Vampire!Caleb, idk if this has plot lmfao, he creeps around your apartment, brief mention of panty thieving, smut, 🐱 eating, you get bit and taste your blood (not crazy, i promise)

Word Count: 4.5K

Summary: Your vampire neighbor is hooked on you.

Don’t You Want Me, Too?

When you showed up at Caleb’s door with a container full of homemade cookies to formally introduce yourself as his new neighbor, he was well prepared for you to drop the pleasantries and keep your distance once he revealed his true identity.

Although you lived in a world where humans found some sort of common ground in the effort to coexist with vampires, it was still considered luck for his kind to be perceived beyond the fangs and necessary blood consumption without some negative preconceived notion.

Imagine his surprise when not only did you harbor zero contempt, but the beaming smile that you granted him was just as intoxicating as the sweetness he could smell thriving in your veins.

“That’s so fucking cool,” you gushed with an unmistakable giddiness.

While your immediate kindness and fascination was admittedly refreshing, he was almost certain that your first meeting would be the one and only time you two ever spoke and before he got too deep, he was okay with that.

But he quickly learned that there was no such thing as maintaining distance when it came to someone like you.

He’ll never forget the night you casually invited him into your home a few days after, asking if he’d be willing to help you assemble the new couch you received.

“I hope I’m not being a bother. You just seemed trustworthy.”

Caleb knew right then that he was in trouble.

And he was right. He loved how much you talked and how willing you were to share parts of yourself to a stranger like him. Equivalent to an open book and walking sunshine all wrapped up into one, you would even go as far as trying to ensure his comfortability like he wasn’t the apex predator sitting on your living room floor with an instruction manual in hand.

There were no limitations, no such thing as “too touchy”, and you were full of so many questions about his existence that he was more than willing to answer if it got him the captivating wonder that shined in your irises as you hooked onto every single word.

Those handful of hours in close proximity to you was more than enough to teach the vampire that you were both equally dangerous and inebriating. For your safety and his sanity, it would’ve been in his best interest to cut all contact before he was put in a place he couldn’t come back from.

He was far from a loner. Despite his vampirism, Caleb was one of the lucky few that had a boyish charm and an air about him that made humans and many walks of life trust and welcome him. In hindsight, no—sticking to you wasn’t necessary. Realistically, he had no reason to.

But when his invitation was never revoked after his late night departure and he realized that he had indefinite access to your home because of your unintentional negligence, still drunk off the sound of your voice and smell of your perfume, his selfish desire to know more about someone so carefree and affable rivaled over anything sensible.

What started as genuine curiosity quickly evolved into obsession, and a sweet thing such as yourself would inadvertently make it easy for him.

The morning you finally left for your very first day of work, he waited a safe handful of minutes to make sure you were truly gone. That spare key hidden under the fake plant beside your door was basically a wrapped up gift sent with a kiss and an invitation to explore you to his dead heart’s content.

You’d done a lot on your own in the short time to make the four walls a home since his visit and the more knowledge he gained, the more he craved to be a part of it and your life.

Your routine quickly became engraved in his mind and fused with his own, so much so that he risked his own safety in the damaging sun to follow you in the early morning beneath an oversized hoodie to get your job’s exact location. And to make sure you got there without any qualms thereafter, of course.

There was nothing you owned that he didn’t touch, not a semblance of privacy you thought sacred that he hadn’t invaded, and not a piece of information he didn’t already have filed away.

He’d gotten so consumed that he looked forward to his favorite nights where he used his keen hearing to listen in on your moans and whimpers as you touched yourself beneath the sheets that he’s spilled his cum onto when he imagined your naked body in it. With a pair of your used panties stuffed in his mouth to get just a taste of what you were, Caleb fucked his hand until both of you made a mess of yourselves at the same time.

It was exhilarating—electrifying, to have access to you in ways you were unaware of. And it was sick of him to smile in your face and wish you a friendly goodnight as if he were a saint.

But in no way shape or form did he feel guilty or deterred. In fact, he reveled in his invasions.

Looking down at your key that he had copied, he rubs the cool metal between his fingertips as if the weightless object brings him comfort. Because of the world it granted him access to, it held the same level of importance as the person who inhabited it.

A soft smile crept across his face when you entered the building at a time thirty minutes later than the one you normally would arrive at and made your way up through the elevator. You did go grocery shopping at this point in the week, so he understood your tardiness.

Rustling plastic interrupted his attempts to hear your grumbles of annoyance the closer you got to your door and with inhumane speed, Caleb shot up from his couch and opened his own to see you stumbling down the hall with bags dangling in your hands. He breathily chuckled and raised a brow as he peeked his head out past the threshold.

“Need any help?”

“You’d be my hero,” you exaggerate playfully with a quick nod. “Please?”

His door clicks shut behind him and it takes four long strides before he’s in front of you and hauling the groceries without an ounce of struggle, a stark contrast compared to what you were doing.

“I see you’ve got big plans. Whatcha makin’?” he asks as he steps into the familiar layout of your apartment, smiling to himself about the small trinkets he took today for safekeeping that he hoped you wouldn’t miss too much should you notice.

“Probably nothing.”

You pull your flats off by the door with a huff, more than ready to get out of your dreaded work clothes. “I bought all this stuff, but I’m thinking some cereal and a granola bar tonight. Can’t even imagine standing in front of a stove right now.”

Caleb nods, pursing his lips with a thought in mind that he doesn’t keep tucked away for long after each item placed atop your marble counter.

“I could uh… make you dinner,” he shrugs. “If you want. I’m pretty good in the kitchen.”

With a tilt of your head, your eyebrows furrow.

“You? Really?”

He blinks at your surprise with a lopsided grin. “Yeah, me. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Caleb, I feel like the reason for my confusion is right in your face.”

“I don’t know, you’re gonna have to actually tell me what you’re thinkin’ if you want me to catch on.”

He’s firmly aware of the point you’re hinting towards, but if acting oblivious kept him around you for longer, he had no problem playing stupid.

“I just don’t think meat, vegetables, and potatoes aligned with your… palate?”

“They don’t. Buutt, does that automatically mean I don’t know what to do with them?”

“No,” you admit with a shy smile. “I just never would’ve figured a vampire to be interested in something they don’t necessarily benefit from, I suppose.”

“Cooking is a skill, and I’ve had a lot of time to learn and master plenty.”

Facing you, his gaze flickers between your lips and your eyes quick enough for you not to catch on.

“Let me show you? Promise you’ll like it.”

He knows you’re ready to accept, even as you stand there like you need a moment to contemplate. Inwardly, he recites where he’ll need to go to retrieve the things he needs, seeing as their locations have already been mesmerized.

Bottom cabinet near the sink.

“Alright,” you muse. “I’ve been swayed. Pans are in the bottom cabinet right next to the sink and—”

Top shelf, far end.

“—seasonings are all the way at the end in the top shelf. I’ll shower and leave you to it then, if that’s alright?”

“Take your time.” He knew you would. Your showers lasted a minimum of thirty minutes.

“I can’t wait,” you sing-song as you depart down the hallway.

Putting away all your things without needing your guidance, he can’t help but to humbly agree, even if you couldn’t hear him.

“Neither can I.”

Finding out that you lived across the hall from a vampire during your impromptu decision to greet the new neighbors was an interesting revelation, to say the least.

The landlord never mentioned that in the lease agreement.

Undoubtedly, you’re sure that you’ve encountered more than you likely realize, but it was a guaranteed fact that you’ve never spoken to or dealt with one long enough to form an opinion like many humans took it upon themselves to do.

You weren’t anything special, nobody different, but you were certainly fair. It didn’t make sense to automatically group so many individuals together because of the actions committed by some of their kind when they weren’t a direct reflection of an entire collective.

Meeting a man like Caleb made you feel like you made the right decision in not being driven by terror and fear mongering rumors.

He shared so many of his experiences with you, just as you did with him, and even if there were aspects he detailed that you would never be able to relate to, it didn’t mean you were incapable of understanding.

In the end, regardless of how he needed to survive and the routes necessary for him to do it, he was still a person; someone with feelings, wants, and a history just like anybody else.

Now, should your compassion have been a reason to be so careless as to let him be in your home like he’s been?

Definitely not. You recognize that.

But you were convinced that had he wanted to hurt you or operated with an ulterior motive in mind that you were unaware of, it would’ve already been acted upon.

He’s as good as he is handsome, and your favorite soda alongside the full course meal that he prepared just for you with puppy-like eyes in search of approval, was only the tip of the iceberg in supporting your firm belief in those sentiments.

“Ya like it?” he simpered as you groaned with delight around a forkful of steak and pan seared vegetables. While you were shocked at how well he prepared everything to your specific liking, Caleb’s flawless execution was intentional, and he reveled in his ability to satisfy you. Had he failed, he’d take it as there’s a lot more studying and observing that he needs to do.

“You’ve been a vampire for how long? Don’t even eat this stuff or have to know how to make it! Yet you cook better than me. That’s beyond unfair.”

He slides your drink closer with his knuckles. “I only used what you had. Maybe you could recreate if you really think it’s that good.”

“Oh, now you’re humble, you chuckle. “‘If you really think it’s that good’.” The way you mimic him right as you sip your chilled beverage shouldn’t make him feel like he has a lively heart thumping in his chest, but he can’t help but to feel the phantom of the long silent organ.

“If you could actually enjoy my cooking, you’d see there’s no way I can replicate this.”

Brushing hair from his forehead, he hums. “Welllll, you know where I am whenever you want me to whip somethin’ up. I don’t mind.”

“Aww, ‘leb,” you coo and lightly pinch his cheek. “You’d do that for little ole me?”

Your tone is teasing, but truthfully, he would do everything for you if he was given the opportunity to.

“Least I could do for the cookies.”

You nearly choke on your final bite. “Oh, that was shady! How was I supposed to know?!”

He laughs at your outburst, and you can’t help but notice how the overhead lights shine in a way to make his paler skin seem near perfect.

“Do you ever miss it though, in all seriousness? Human food? No pun intended.”

Swiping your plate off the counter, he stands from the island chair and sets your dishes in the sink before rolling up his sleeves to begin washing them as he contemplates his response.

Did he miss it? Does he even remember it enough to?

“I’ve… gone so long without it that when one sole thing becomes the only way you’re capable of satisfying your hunger, it’s easy to forget about what doesn’t.”

Standing next to him, you receive the plate he cleans and dry it with a towel. “That makes sense.”

Once finished and the water is shut off, you internally bring yourself to vocalize the question that’s weighed upon you since being told what he is.

“Can I see them? Your fangs?”

He tenses. “I don’t wanna scare you.”

And truly, he doesn’t. That would ruin everything and taking you wasn’t the route he preferred to go if he could help it.

See, humans had the tendency to seem sure about something until they actually got it. But he knows you, knows that you’re a woman who doesn’t need time to identify what she wants when she’s already declared that she does.

He’s analyzed you better than any historian does a pivotal moment in history to conclude this, but should he heed your wish, it was going to put you two on a level distanced entirely from where you are now.

Only you didn’t know that.

“I’m not scared of you.” You step close to him as if to enforce your sureness. “And you know I’m not, so I doubt your teeth would change that. Have some faith in me,” you joke, but there’s a sincerity there.

When he gives you all of his attention, rather than speaking and delaying the act of letting you have what you want, he doesn’t let you second guess long enough to change your mind. After a quick uptick of his cheeks and leaving his mouth slightly ajar, his pointy and now elongated ivory canines are revealed.

Your eyes widen in wonder at how effortlessly he changes from something personable and beautiful, to breathtakingly threatening.

Caleb can hear your heart rate double in its efforts to navigate all the thoughts swimming in your mind, but he’s not returning to “normal” to ease them. Not when you gape at him with so much awe and the smell of something akin to ambrosia makes that animalistic part of him hungry in the same way your blood does.

The raging pulse in your neck, the melodic beating of your heart, and the slick he knows that’s gathering in your panties—they all work in unanimous tandem to make his cock twitch more than before in his sweatpants.

His most natural state excites you and it ignites something almost daring.

What kind of person would he be to let you deny yourself?

“Say something,” he whispers. “C’mon, you said you weren’t scared. Don’t tell me you’re backin’ out on me now.”

You shake your head, slowly reaching up with the sudden urge to just feel what the sharpness is like, but a strong hand wraps around your wrist and ceases your efforts.

��Shit… W-Was that rude?” you stutter. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

He tilts his head and smirks with amusement as your sentence trails off unfinished, running his tongue along one of his fangs.

“You want more. You’re aching for it.”

Bringing your wrist to his nose, he inhales the delicacy beneath the surface. “You think I don’t know?”

“I-I’m not trying—”

“Are you afraid of what I could do to you?” he interrupts.

Almost all his self control withers away at how you shudder as his tongue traces your skin. With another one of your side to side movements of denial, he presses a kiss to the freshly lotioned flesh.

“Do you want me to do something?”

“We shouldn’t..” Not even you are convinced by your meek attempt of self preservation, but a human and a vampire? That sounds like a surely signed death certificate.

Your thighs press together harder when you feel the light caress of his teeth.

“You want to. That’s all that matters. And if a no isn’t the next word out of your mouth, you’re about to feel mines. I think that’s fair, wouldn’t you agree?”

Your inability to respond because of your scrambled thoughts is more than enough of a confirmation for him and before you can register just how lighting fast he is, somehow you’re already up in the air with you back flush against the wall and your legs thrown over his broad shoulders.

“C-Caleb! Wait!” you squeak at the heightened altitude and bizarre reality of your pussy that’s only separated by a a thin pair of sleep pants and panties, sitting in his face.

“All you have to do is command me to leave, and I’ll have no choice.” He buries himself in between your legs, deeply inhaling your natural scent and nearly growls when you instinctively buck your hips to force him closer.

“But you know that. It’s just not what you want.”

You nearly make your bottoms lip bleed with how hard you bite it, not trusting your voice to combat his statement and mean it.

“Hold onto me,” he instructs, and with stomach churning nerves, you plant your palms to his shoulders. In one swift motion and with riveting power, your lower half is exposed in milliseconds when he rips the material in half from the back to make the fabric split in two and peel away until it hits the floor.

“I’ve been waitin’ too long for this…”

An impatient long lick from your hole to your clit makes the back of your head hit the wall and eyes roll. “Oh, honey… it’s even better from the source.”

You’re too faded to find anything odd about his words draped with desperation, and he takes that to his advantage to devour you like a newfound supplement for his unwavering bloodlust. The squelching of your juices and pressure of his tongue as he sucks the throbbing bundle of nerves into his mouth, echos in the wide expanse and it nearly sends you into hysterics.

His palms holds and kneads your ass with possession as he keeps you glued to his greedy mouth.

“I can’t…” you cry, riding further up the wall as if you’re trying to escape. Your fingers then dig into his scalp with every skilled flick of the persistent muscle and your next set of mumbled pleas are a complete contradiction to the last.

“Don’t stop… please don’t stop… mmph…”

“You sound so much clearer… Taste even sweeter,” he murmurs into your soaked folds, not even caring about the subtle details that could expose him if you were paying attention to them.

When he separates from his personal fountain of youth, looking up at you with a glistening chin and sharp teeth, he appears to be just as inebriated as you feel. It’s almost like a reflex as he nuzzles his cheek to your inner thigh, nipping at your plushness to make you jolt. But you welcome the sting, sensually running his soft locks through your fingers.

“If you let me go further.” A kiss to your stomach. “You’re not gettin’ rid of me. Ever.”

You should be demanding him to leave, not damn near dangling in the air with your slick all over a vampire’s face as he studies you like the experienced hunter he is. This could kill you one day, if not now.

But playing it safe wouldn’t have gotten you in such a mind numbing position in the first place and you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

“Who said I wanted to?”

Using that same speed you’re unsure you’ll ever get used to, your scenery changes in the blink of an eye and you’re hastily put on the recognized softness of your bed.

“How do you do that?” you question with true amazement, but Caleb’s too busy stripping himself of his clothes to tell you that it’s a skill you’ll learn one day.

Too much for a first time.

His body seems to be crafted by gods and his cock is surely your impending addiction. Pumping himself in his hand with a hiss from the sensitivity, flashbacks of him in the same position and only having his imagination to paint you in the same picture that you now present him in reality, affirms that this is destined.

You spread your legs to make space for him and your nipples harden when he looms above to tug the tank top off.

One of your peaks is quickly sucked into his mouth that he uses to worship your delicate body before the garment has a chance to land on the rug, making him groan from your addicting wails of pleasure.

“Can you take me like this?” He sounds almost breathless. “Or do you need more?”

His length brushes up against your slit and the stickiness that clings to him seems to try answering for you.

“I can take it,” you mewl, arching your back when he gives the other nipple the same level of reverence before releasing it with a loud pop.

“Touch me…” His soft begging has you hastily wrapping your arms around his thick neck.

Grasping himself to line up with your quivering entrance, he first spreads your arousal with the head of his cock. And when he falls into you, his hardness swallowed by every warm and spongey inch of your spasming walls, you know that there is nothing to walk this Earth, not another vampire nor any other creature alive, that could fulfill you like this.

“Y-You’re so deep,” you choke, almost perplexed by how natural he feels like this. Your hands find solace in the cool skin of his smooth back, and the contrast to your fiery one is something you’re surprisingly quite fond of.

“I know… But you gotta let me move…”

Your eager hips match your vigorous nodding as he slides out almost all the way before sinking back inside to the hilt in a dizzying languid motion.

Remembering the fact that you’re still human, he has to be wary as to not break your fragile form, but the idea of it sounds so fucking tempting when he now has you feeling the same level of desperation beneath him.

With your bodies pressed close, not a centimeter of space left in between, each plap of skin continuously meeting and your broken whines is a sound he intends to own for centuries to come. He’ll make sure of it.

Your sheets are balled in his hands as he delivers deep strokes into your creaming pussy, his pretty moans rushing into your ears whilst your nails leave long scratches whenever they reach.

“I don’t know how I’ve gone this long without you…” he expresses earnestly. All you can do in response is squeeze him tighter to let him feel how much you are in agreement.

The visceral need to taste you in the only way he hasn’t is what makes him bury his face in your neck in an attempt to suppress the urge, but you don’t let him hide.

“It’s okay.” You gently grasp his hair and push him closer, relishing in every rough snap of his pelvis that causes the wooden frame of your bed to creak.

“E-Eat. I can handle it…”

He refuses to ask if you’re sure. In fact, he’s incapable of even trying to do so.

The burn of being punctured is immediate when he indulges, making you clench harder around his pulsing cock from the intensity. Sacred crimson spills on his tongue and just as he knew you to be capable of doing, you have irrevocably ruined him.

It’s foreign, the sensation of your blood being drained with such brute force and urgency. But you knew you were too far gone to feel anything other than blissful pride to be giving him so much of you that he’s so eager to accept.

He never loses his consistent momentum the longer he drinks, gliding inside your fluttering cunt without interruption and never wasting a single drop.

“Good?” you tease tiredly, eyes tightening with a gasp when he retracts with a satisfied exhale and laps up the sacred elixir trying to slide down the length of your neck. His hips only begin to falter when he pulls back to stare down at your winded expression.

“How about you tell me?”

His ruby stained lips hover above your puffy ones before he slams them together with a firm hold on your jaw. Unexpectedly, the heady taste of iron is what sends you well over the edge.

Your tongues battle for dominance in a heated exchange of tumultuous emotions, but you’d be a liar to say that you’d given it your all in the attempt to conquer him.

Caleb swallows your cries as your orgasm breaks you apart and builds you up all over again at the same time that he stuffs almost endless spurts of cum into your womb.

He surrounds you with his strong arms and unspoken promises of lifelong dedication, pumping his heavy load until you’re too overstimulated for him to move any longer.

More kisses are pressed all over your face and your throat as he savors the connection.

“I just slept with a vampire…” you push out in the midst of the stunned silence, truthfully astonished by what you’ve done. And how much you loved it.

He chuckles, licking at the two marks where his teeth were imbedded into your skin before giving you his captivating violet eyes.

“Your vampire. The one who doesn’t intend for you to know what it’s like to walk without feeling him riiight here.”

His palm pressed to your lower gut is a promise you’ll hold him to.

“I’d like that. It’s too bad that I have—”

“Work at 8:30 in the morning and need to be out of here by 7:15 to avoid traffic. Yeah, yeah, I know. Don’t remind me.”

“But—How would you—You… sound like a stalker.”

Still nestled inside of your body, he cherishes the way you tug at the strands of his hair at the nape of his neck and giggle at what you thankfully take as a joke.

“Nahh. Just someone who observes. Nothing wrong with that.”

“I guess not. Seems like you observe me quite often, though.”

He presses his forehead to yours and rubs your noses together. “More than you know.”

His naive little human.

If only you knew.

A/N: Self promoting, but if you didn’t read Once Bitten, Twice Repaired and you like the idea of a more “serious” story of a vampire!Caleb, —Click Here—!! Just thought it was fitting. And everyone, don’t be too mean to me about the fic you just read if you weren’t messing with itttt 😭. A girl tried!

🍎 Tags: @xiaprint @mcdepressed290 @calebapplepie @xcelfer @honeymoonfleur @obeythebutler @ajyoursgirl @notsurewhattocallthisblog8888 @honeycrispangels @dummiebunny @sucre-princesse @brailsthesmolgurl @klossnite @grlyeetswrld @beesin03 @dramaticalsachan @moonchildjae00 @multisstuff @littledarlingsthings @purpleamethyst25 @meadowinthesky @grackerzzz @nod4mnm3rcyy @loveinorion @ur-l0cal-crypt1d @cowaungabungabby @gravity-pilot @nyanahogini @rosiesluv @goochfiddler99 @torturedbabyapple @kiyadeleine @carcelswaifu @blushofeve @whattnanii @ashirelle @sylvieisoffline @saturnquartz @dewmarionette @horanghaeegr @iconoclastoc @hilliserose @alyakhq @rina-lidou @celestialhoneycaleb @jeansdoll

♾️ Tags: @starryeyed-apple @asiatic-apple @sensual-study @sweetcalebb @asiaticapple @raemanova @awquaz @callads7 @floatinginaer @crimsonsylus @aquarianbeat @inutrasha94 @jadestone2 @lamogliedizayne @sylusqt @gktdh @nottodaynotrn @raendarkfaerie

creds to @/uzmacchiato for the dividers & @/asiatic-apple for the username banner!

[blushofeve]

skin

caleb x femreader | so uh this one is nasty. spit, desperation, pussy and ass eating. body worship. lots of rimming and fingering. caleb gets off the entire time | minors dni

listen to skin by mac miller while reading. peak experience.

all things considered, caleb should be asleep right now. it was late into the night, only a few hours until his alarm should be blaring into his ear. he was never one to indulge in late night cravings, mostly because it only ever keeps him awake and goes against his own personal diet.

naturally, the same rules apply to you. he’s always lovingly scolded you when he’d catch you scampering around for scraps, once doing a double take when he caught you in the shredded cheese at 4 in the morning. he knew you never listened but it was just in his nature to chastise you when he caught you going against him.

it was late. your stomach was keeping you up. even if you were a grown adult who could make your own decisions, you still had that caution weighing over your head as you crawled out of bed. he’d never actually get on your case about some stupid rule that carried over from childhood days but regardless, you weren’t in the mood for an earful.

the floorboards creak the same annoying way they always have, earning a few curses under your breath. tiptoeing was always useless in old houses like this one, the faintest weight more than enough to set off the wood.

the sneaking around wasn’t necessary, seeing as though a pair of tired eyes meet yours the second you flip the light switch on. overhead chandelier lights flicker on, illuminating the kitchen in a warm glow. caleb, clad in wrinkled pajama pants and an old highschool hoodie, stares right back at you like a deer in headlights.

it’s not often that you get to catch caleb off guard these days, so his bewilderment brings a sleepy giggle out of you. eyes wide, half eaten poptart cradled in one of his big hands, hair sticking up every which way.

“you’re the worlds biggest hypocrite,” you snicker, feeling a sick sense of victory from catching him doing exactly what he advises you not to do. he moves aside when you approach him, clearing your path to the pantry. “i’m never letting you live this down.”

“i’m only human,” he snickers past his initial surprise, sinking his teeth into the blueberry pastry, defenses weak and voice raspy with exhaustion. “this is the last one, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

a hum is all you give in reply, snatching the girl scout cookies that were nestled on the top shelf. they were caleb’s most recent apology gift after another late night, his overtime dampering a planned movie marathon. they weren’t your favorite kind but it was all he could grab in a hurry on his way home that night.

you swivel to hop and sit on the kitchen island, parallel to where caleb has his hip propped against the counter. he watches you with lazy interest as you tear the packaging open, snorting at the scowl you give at the cookies.

“i’ll eat ‘em if you don’t want them.”

he knew you’d react with a glare and he laughs when you follow through, eyebrows furrowed when you tilt your head up, locking onto his with silent denial.

“or not.”

silence falls between you two, comfortable in the same way as a weighted blanket and a fireplace. caleb has been out of the house more frequently and it felt like a rare moment of quality time, one that you didn’t want to ruin with more teasing about his inability to follow his own law.

he catches you staring, unsure what to think of your curious gaze. he crumbles the foil wrapper of the poptart before throwing it out, returning back to his spot in front of you, stepping closer to cage you into the kitchen island.

the invasion of personal space is sudden, yet not exactly unwelcome. years upon years of living with caleb, of being side by side— his mood is hard to pinpoint. he’s not abiding by his own personal rules, he’s quiet.

“is something wrong?” you poke the bear with a gentle nudge of your foot against his calf. the crumbs of cookie you were nibbling on get lodged into your throat, almost choking on them as he grabs your thighs within the blink of an eye. strong hands kneading at the meaty flesh, eyes unreadable.

his head ducks down, forehead resting on top of yours. “do you miss me when i’m gone?” he breathes, almost shaky in the way he exhales against your chin.

your silence almost brings a smile to his face, one of those few times he’s managed to render you speechless.

“because i miss you. all i’ve done this week is miss you, wonder what you’ve been doing, wishing i could be in your space.”

no time is given to answer his question, caleb’s knees buckling to rest on the hardwood floors. a hand is running up the cotton fabric of your tshirt, one of his old basketball tees that you made into a sleep shirt. he’s far from surprised to be met with a pair of panties, face level with your clothed cunt.

“of course i miss you,” your words come out rushed, brain half asleep and struggling to make sense of it all. he’s always been a bit impulsive but this was different, a need and desire so suffocating that even you can feel it. it comes off of him in waves, intensifies when he hikes the back of your knees over his shoulders.

the feeling of his nose nudging you through the fabric has you sighing, slow to react, hesitant to lay a hand on top of his head. he inhales sharply, sniffing the wet patch forming, the action making your cheeks burn in utter shame. “caleb, c’mon…”

your pleas fall upon deaf ears, his lips gentle in the way they kiss your cunt. slow, needy, taking his time. the fabric sticks to your wet lips and he nudges his nose against it, nipping softly at the bud of your clit protruding through the soaked gusset. impatience fills you and you can’t help but huff, hands flying to dip into the waistband and peel your panties down yourself. his tongue seeks you out immediately, almost akin to a magnetic pull.

long drags of his tongue start from your creamy hole, gliding up your folds, tip of his tongue catching at the hood of your clit. you jump and he snickers in turn, hands fishing to spread your thighs out further for access.

performative and loud sucks echo against the cabinets, you almost think he’s playing it up on purpose. those doubts are silenced when you catch sight of his shoulder bouncing, his wrist flicking. slick sounds fill the air and it only occurs to you then that he’s getting off to this, jerking his cock to your taste and whimpers.

fat globs of spit and translucent essence mix and slide between your thighs, tongue lashing against your cunt as if he has festering anger that needs released. there’s no calculation or technique behind it yet this is the fastest he’s ever gotten you to that delicious edge, hands seeking to cradle his face, unsure of where to find leverage. they roam his hair, the span of his skull, scratching and pulling at soft strands in their path.

his eating is a distraction, too high on the ecstasy to notice the way he’s travelled lower. a gentle bite to the globe of your ass makes you jerk, digging one of your heels into his scapula in retaliation. “you’re an ass!”

a muffled chuckle is all you’re offered before he’s traveling dangerously close to your asshole. puckered and begging for attention, caleb was never good at ignoring pretty things that needed taken care of. it’s only right for him to gather spit, to trace your slippery labia with two fingers at the same time as his spit lands on your hole.

it’s nasty, your jaw dropping at the sheer audacity. most of you wants to fight against it, to squeeze your thighs shut and send him to his room. still, that anticipation fills you whole and it’s hard to argue against a man who’s sinking two long fingers deep into your needy pussy.

“what’re you..” you trail off and he sighs in amazement.

“shh.”

his tongue pushes past the resistance of your rim with a lewd pop, glossy with heaps of spit. your eyes can’t decide whether they want to cross or roll back into your skull, hot pleasure overwhelming every sense. the thrill of being caught so off guard forces your back to arch off of the cold surface, heels digging into his shoulders.

“caleb!” you shriek, broken moans and panicked whimpers stumbling past your lips. the sound only spurs him on, groaning in protest against your twitchy hole as you push at his forehead. “no, no. not there.”

any protest that leaves you is betrayed by your body, cunt leaking a river of arousal onto the tip of his nose as he fucks his tongue into the tight muscle of your ass. every fiber of your being is begging him to keep going, greedy hole drawing him in and sloppy pussy crying for his cock, denial be damned.

“please let me stay,” he pants, urgent, as if you’re cutting off his oxygen supply. “shit, it’s so good. i’ll make you cum, i promise. just let me stay.”

you squeal that it’s gross, forbidden— yet he just couldn’t disagree any less. not a single inch of you could ever be disgusting in his eyes. you are his vision of desire and need, beauty in the eyes of the beholder. the feeling of his lips suctioned to your untouched hole was one that you were fighting.

a lost cause from the start, it was impossible to run from. the stretch that his tongue provided, hitting places you’ve never felt on your own. fucking you in both holes, fingers long enough to delve and search for your special spot. too much at once yet so blindingly good. stars litter your vision with every blink, mindless. your body nearly slips off of the kitchen island in your daze, slouched too far.

he catches you. he always manages to catch you, free hand pinning you to the sticky granite countertop, a weak preventative measure. that instinct to take care of you will always overrule his lust, even if his brain is clouded with fog.

“see?” caleb pants as he pulls away, face so messy with saliva, lips glossed and cheeks streaky. they’re blazing with a rosy hue, the first thing you notice when he pulls back to meet your gaze. “look at how much you love it. you’re soaking me, honey.”

there simply was no denying it. the proof was clinging to his face like syrup, it was dripping off of the tabletop edge and onto the hardwood floors. lying and pretending couldn’t cut it anymore— you did love it. you loved caleb seeking deep within himself and satisfying his most filthy fantasies using your body, using your pussy and ass.

“i love you,” he moans, dragging his face back up to your weeping cunt. the fat folds of your pussy shield your most sensitive spots from him but he never gives up in the face of a challenge. he sucks them, pushes right past the soaked lips with ease. “i need you closer.”

oh, he couldn’t get any closer than he already was. tongue buried so deep that his nose is pressing into your mound. he was insatiable, cock leaking and hot to the touch. the sight, the whines spilling from his throat, it was too much.

your moans sound like a broken record, nonstop since they started. he shakes his head between your thighs like a dog and you swear, your pussy gushes cream right onto his frantic tongue, showing him interest and appreciation alike.

shivers run down your spine as you cum, sudden and without warning. it feels as though it was lured out of your body, every muscle tensing up. you cry out into the quiet night at the same time as he groans into your flesh, hot cum shooting from his raw tip, his seed spilling down his knuckles.

shared breaths leave the air thick, languid in the way he pulls away from your twitching cunt. the warmth of his skin earns a gasp from you as soon as he rests a heated cheek against your thigh, eyes starry and filled with wonder. they trace every curve and dip of your face, eyes heavy and unfocused.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbles between deep exhales, placing an apologetic kiss to your knee. “i didn’t freak you out, did i?”

the look in his eyes tugs at your heart, feeling blissed out and in need of a shower. the counters are filthy, his face wet, your thighs sickeningly sticky. he’s created a mess single-handedly yet all you can do is smile right back down at him.

“stop,” you coo in that sweet tone he plays on repeat in his own head, lovesick smile taking over his entire face. one of your hands lands in his messy hair and he leans into it, nuzzles against your palm. “how could i ever be freaked out about you missing me?”

he gives you a sheepish look and it’s almost hard to believe that this was the same man who jumped you within seconds, who just had his tongue and fingers in both holes at the same time. caleb was an enigma of a man but loving him was worth it when he loved so deeply.

[blushofeve]

LABYRINTH

Zayne x barista!reader

wc: 1.8k

summary: you're a barista at a cafe Zayne frequently visits. all your coworkers talk about him as the hotshot doctor, extremely talented, and equally good-looking. you have to agree with them, though; he is fine.

a/n: This was kinda inspired by Taylor's song Labyrinth.

m.list | taglist | ao3

Divider credits: @ithemes

"One large Chai latte with a jasmine-infused crème brûlée." You placed the food on the counter and called out the order once again. "One large chai latte latte with a jasmine-infused crème brûlée for Zayne!"

This time, a tall man approached the counter. Dr Zayne Shen. The highly-awarded Cardiac Surgeon, who currently works at Akso Hospital. He stood tall, at around 6'1, with jet black hair and striking green eyes. He also had an air of mystery around him. He was a regular at the cafe where you had started working two months ago. "Dr Zayne is so cool, he was the youngest graduate for his major!" "He even corrected his professors during classes. I wouldn't have the guts!" Your coworkers gushed over him when you first started working at the cafe, they of course gave you the scoop on other regulars: a couple who they watched fall in love, an old man who comes with a picture frame of his wife- a continuation of the dates they used to have before she passed, and an up and coming music artist who they watch writing their songs, just to name a few. But with Dr Zayne, they were way more into it. You can't blame them, of course, who doesn't love a smart and handsome man?

You, however, weren't as invested. 'Surely all that genius, praise, and multiple ego-boosting articles written about him have gone to his head,' you thought, watching as he walked up, pulling some cash out of his wallet. Despite your wariness of what his real personality may be, you can't deny how you felt blood rush to your face when your eyes locked with his piercing green ones, or how he intently observed you as you would take and pack his orders, or how you nearly exploded when your fingers touched when you handed him his order. You likened the feeling to Taylor Swift's song: 'Labyrinth'. You’d carefully draw a tiny penguin somewhere on the cup or the dessert container. It was a little ritual you started on a whim after hearing from your coworkers about Zayne’s cold, reserved demeanour.

Oh well, it was just a harmless crush.

Looking at him, you noticed that he didn't seem to have his usual air of coolness and calm around him. Instead, you noticed a light pink flush spread across his face, not too noticeable to anyone who would take a glance at him. "$15.50," you smiled as he reached the counter. The man didn't meet your eyes as he usually did. 'Maybe something is up in his personal life.' You shrugged his unusual behaviour off and packed his order. The doctor gave a hurried thank you, placed a $10 tip in front of you and rushed out of the cafe. However, you didn't miss the way he smiled when he spotted the little penguin on his cup.

"Strange." You muttered and went about your shift. That was the last you'd see of him until a week later.

The next time you saw Dr Zayne, the weather outside was pleasant, cherry blossom petals drifted in the wind and decorated the roads and walkways outside. Floral fragrances wafted in through the open cafe windows. Surprisingly, Zayne was accompanied by someone. You had just clocked into your shift when Zayne and his companion entered. Is this why he was acting weird last time and then disappeared for a week? He had gotten a girlfriend? "Wow, Zayne, you were right, this place is cute!" The woman exclaimed as she looked around the cafe, admiring the decor. "Welcome! What may I get for you today?" You pretended to have your head down, oblivious to who had just entered, busy writing something 'important' on a notepad.

You looked up and pretended to be shocked upon seeing the two. "Dr Zayne! Nice to see you back! I see you've brought company this time. Does this mean you'll be sitting down with us this time?" Zayne simply nodded. "I'll have my usual," he spoke softly and then turned to the woman, "You should try out their promotional dessert, they're all good." He spoke cooly. You ignored the pang of irritation you felt at how he leaned down to speak in her ear. The woman who accompanied him eventually ordered strawberry cheesecake with a strawberry matcha drink to accompany it.

Your eyes didn't leave them until your coworker tapped your shoulder. "Hello? Are you good? You're literally staring holes into Dr Zayne's head." She leaned against the counter with a mischievous look on her face. 'Ooh, are you jealous?" You scoffed and began working on their orders. "No. Why would I be?" She shrugged, "I'd be jealous if the hot doctor who looked at me like I was the only woman on earth suddenly came in with another woman." You rolled your eyes. "He doesn't look at me like that, Lou, shut up." Lou simply laughed, placed a cloth over her shoulder and went to clean tables, leaving you with the weight of her words. 'There's no way he looks at me like that.' You thought. But you didn't see what everyone else saw. Unbeknownst to you, your coworkers had started a bet on whether you and the doctor would get together, that is, if you ever admitted your feelings for him.

Your thoughts consumed you, so much that you completely forgot to draw your penguin. You took the now finished orders to the pair who were now seated in the corner of the cafe.

You carefully balanced the tray as you approached their table, trying to focus on the task and not on the persistent flutter in your chest. The lack of your signature penguin drawing on Zayne’s cup felt like a small void between you. A void that completely engulfed Zayne as he noticed the penguin's absence and the not-so-cheerful look on your face. You left he two to their meal and tried to focus on serving other customers. The conversation drifted naturally, but Zayne's mind circled back to that missing penguin — had he done something to upset you?

The next evening, the cafe had grown quiet, the warm hues of the sunlight poured through the window and reflected in gorgeous crystalline patterns on the wall as they passed through suncatchers, and you found yourself wiping down tables when the soft chime of the doorbell made you look up. There stood Zayne, still in his work clothes. His usually reserved demeanour was softened by a shy smile and the familiar leather-bound notebook tucked under his arm. He approached with a steady yet gentle step. "Hello," he began, voice low but sincere, "I noticed you skipped the penguin yesterday." You froze, your cheeks warming, knowing exactly why you had done it— jealousy. “I guess it slipped my mind.” Zayne nodded.

"Will you be having your usual?" You asked, starting to input the order.

"I think I'll try something new." You tilted your head in surprise. "Okay... What would you like?" The doctor looked at the menu displayed behind you before sighing in defeat. "I'm not sure. Perhaps you could recommend something?" You thought to recommend the items on special, but before you could speak, you were cut off.

"What would you order?"

It was a simple question, but the fact that he wanted your opinion made your brain short-circuit.

"Uhm, I think the strawberry rhubarb crumble bars are pretty good," you mumbled, taking a quick look at the menu. "For the drinks, I love the caramel latte." Zayne hummed, "I'll have that then." He gave you a small smile. You returned the smile and went to prepare his order. Zayne watched you intently as you worked. The cafe was quiet, only filled wth the sounds of you working. You carefully steamed the milk and pulled a rich espresso shot, the comforting warmth of the café contrasting with the nervous excitement bubbling inside you. Setting the caramel latte down on the counter, you gave it a small personal touch, a tiny penguin waving cheerfully, perched near the rim of the cup. It felt like a silent bridge between you two, even after yesterday’s unspoken tension. You bagged the strawberry rhubarb crumble and carefully drew a penguin on it as well.

Zayne's gaze flicked to the cup and bag, his green eyes lighting up briefly at the familiar drawing. He offered you a small, genuine smile that felt precious. "Thank you," he said softly, reaching out his card to pay. There was a pause, a moment suspended between the hum of the café and the quiet understanding passing between you. Zayne glanced up, fingers casually tracing the penguin on the cup, and said, “Thank you for recommending something new. It’s nice to step out of the usual.” His voice softened almost imperceptibly, “Maybe I should try stepping out of my usual routine more often.” Your heart skipped a beat. Encouraged by the warmth in his gaze, you met his look and said, “I think trying something new can be rewarding.” For a moment, the weight of the day lifted, and the bustle of the café outside faded away. Two small penguins, one dressed like a doctor, and one with a heart-shaped smile, shared a fleeting but meaningful understanding between you.

Zayne nodded thoughtfully, then took a breath as if gathering courage. “There’s something else,” he said quietly. “I know we’ve shared these small moments here, and I don’t want to rush anything. But… would you like to do something together outside of the café? Maybe dinner or a walk in the park sometime soon. It doesn’t have to be anything formal, just a chance to talk and get to know each other better.” He rambled out the last part. Now, a light flush painted his cheeks and ears. The sincerity in his tone melted away any hesitation you had.

A soft smile blossomed on your lips. “I’d like that,” you replied.

His smile deepened, a rare ease in his expression. “Good. Let me know which day works for you, and I can try to work my schedule around that." He quickly mumbled and made a beeline for the door. The asking you out had clearly taken all his energy and a lot of courage. "Wait- Doctor Zayne!" You called out, realising he'd forgotten something. "Yes?" He turned around, dipping his head to try and hide how flustered he was. "My number? You can message me which day works for you instead, I think your schedule would be more packed than mine." You giggled. The raven-haired man walked back as you quickly wrote your number down along with another penguin on a napkin. You handed him the napkin, noticing the small static spark when your fingers brushed against each other. Another soft smile etched itself into the doctor's face.

"See you next time, Ms Barista."

"See you next time, Doctor Zayne.

part 2?

tags: @dummiebunny @mommymilkerssociety @slowburnmithy @itsmeaudrieee @cableswife @glitterykingdomangel @september-2121

[blushofeve]

PROFESSOR RAFAYEL SAVEMEEE

TEACH ME, SIR!

part 2!

STARRING: art professor!rafayel x art student!reader

synopsis: you've been struggling in your art classes, and your professor hadn't made it any easier for you. who would have thought he'd come looking for you when you stopped coming to the lessons?

warnings: porn with plot, all characters are aged up (and in university), fingering, body worship, cunnilingus, cockblocking, male masturbation, dirty talk, cock slapping, overstimulation, cum eating, pure filth.

wc: 7,5k

MINORS DON'T INTERACT!

you were more than prepared to throw that chunk of clay out the window. your could feel the pressure looming over you, mostly on your neck. you were just over a month away from your practical exam and you were drowning in absolute shit.

how did you end up in this unworthy predicament? 

out of the kindness of your heart, and the fact that you owed them big time, you decided to take up an art course with one of your closest friends so that she wouldn’t be lonely throughout the semester. 

you were registered and everything, with the needed supplies clean and fresh and ready for use. the glossy joy of it slowly disappeared when you slowly came to realise over the following days that your friend wasn’t attending classes for a reason. she dropped out. not of the class. of the university. and ran to another country with her boyfriend for a six month vacation.

perfect. now you were all on your own in an art class as someone who had no clue on how to draw, paint, or do anything art related. the only consolation – and misfortune – was your unnaturally handsome professor. despite his pretty face and alluring voice, he had a certain knack that always got on your nerves.

based off the rumours you’ve heard, professor rafayel worked as both a teacher of art and classical music, specialising in opera. apparently he had a voice so divine that half the auditorium fainted or fell ‘madly’ in love with him. his artwork was basically on par with his voice. 

not only was he a renown artist globally, he often worked on pieces to send to the gallery near the university which attracted multiple art lovers from all corners of the world. he was rarely in lectures in the previous years but this year he decided to buckle down and teach full time. 

and the first thing he had you do for your finals was a trial sculpture. you had started with something basic: a fish. a cute little fishie that would be surrounded by a wave. not too simplistic but it had enough detail to be easy to look at and mark. 

you were almost certain your professor would compliment you for the detail you’ve meticulously added to your work. the way you’ve made something so simple so beautiful especially for your first time.

“it’s lazy.” that melodic voice quickly soured into a baneful buzz of noise. rafayel stared at your work with a hint of disdain on his face. your hopeful smile slowly fell in disbelief. you spent hours on that. hours. you could hear the giggles from the girls in the studio erupt behind you. 

it wasn’t surprising that the professor had gathered a cutthroat fanbase of women who would do anything to gain his favour– and from some others, fuck him. solidarity clearly didn’t exist when it came to the illusive rafayel. 

“this is something a child would do,” he scoffed, brushing his finger across the still-drying fins of your poor fish. “this may be a trial practice before the real thing, sure. but it’s no excuse to show no effort. you’ll get a 50 for this if it gets moderated.”

a pass. barely. those charming purple-blue eyes scanned your solemn face before he glided off to the next sculpture, immediately grazing the artist. but not as badly as he did with you. 

you stared at your little fish, its form now scorned with the assault of his graceful, well maintained finger. for someone so effortlessly handsome, he was such a bitch. and you weren’t afraid to say it out loud. in fact, you did. 

it came out as a mumble low enough not to be heard. yet he somehow did. those ethereal eyes glanced at you momentarily as if he acknowledged it, and a small grin curved on his lips.

you wouldn’t say you were accustomed to his ‘bullying’. however, it wasn’t the first time he’d pick on you. during the theory-based lectures, rafayel would turn his attention to you, poking and prodding you endlessly for the historical accounts of artists that you didn’t know existed. then he’d ask you – mind you, only you – which techniques should be used with which equipment for whichever type of painting style that came up in that stupidly pretty mind of his. that extensive mind covered and protected by a mane of purple wavy hair. 

you had often wondered how soft his hair would be. and what his hands would feel like in yours. soft? calloused? he was always well dressed, adorned in expensive garb, always appearing in ways that would have any passerby fall madly in love.

he must have been some kind of siren. you were almost lucky you weren’t damned to hear his voice live. 

but the picking and scolding was becoming unbearable. you were beginning to question your worth in the class. you knew you had minimal experience from the get-go, and you never dishonoured yourself by lying or trying to fake it. 

with that being said, there’s only so much slander you can handle from not only your peers but your own professor before it becomes unbearable. eventually, like all straining predicaments, today was your inevitable breaking point.

you sat as you usually would, smack bang in the middle of the lecture hall, taking notes of whatever your professor said as quickly as possible. you took every word seriously, even if he repeatedly mentioned things like “you all should already know this,” or “which you should have learned from last year,”. 

you had worked diligently, listening and writing and occasionally glancing at the board to keep up, in a constant flow determined to finish the course well. up until the lecture hall fell quiet, followed by multiple rings of notifications, even your phone vibrated. 

and one by one, giggles erupted around you, gradually bursting into relentless chortles and laughs. the classmate seated beside you, showed you her phone revealing a devastating sight.

your trial sculpture, that was graded with a bare pass, was crushed and ruined before it could even dry. and right in front of the crime scene, stood a very familiar purple haired artist looking down on your besmirched work. his face was not fully clear in the image but you could see what you believed was a scowl. 

with blurring vision, blinded by your tears scorching your eyes, you raised your gaze to rafayel and the professor’s face masked no shame, no grief, no remorse, just confusion. almost like he didn’t realise what had taken place. 

but he must have. especially if he gave you such a low grade. your teeth ground and pressed against each other, forcing a tick in your jaw. you watched his face slowly contort in a slight realisation of what was happening. he stepped forward, his plump lips slowly split to speak but your things were already packed in your back and you were on your feet, ready to leave.

to make matters worse, the exposure clearly wasn’t enough to embarrass you. of course you had to sit in the middle of your row and stumble out under the sharp, scrutinising gaze of your peers. their snickers, hisses, and cruel whispers did not fall deaf to your ears. you absorbed them like a sponge, your face hardening more and more.

if it meant saving the last few threads of your dignity, you’d keep your head high. you stormed down the stairs, not sparing anyone a glance to push the doors wide open marking your escape. 

and by your word, that was the last time you would ever touch that lecture theatre for the rest of the year.

“i shouldn’t have bothered with that course,” you hissed, stabbing your fork into a fresh pastry. “i should have dropped it when i had the chance.”

it had been three weeks since that embarrassing event. you kept your word to yourself and didn’t bother going to the lectures or the studio sessions. your absence initially did not go unnoticed. as expected, your more confident peers would occasionally tease you or laugh behind your back to get a kick at you. fortunately you knew better than to bite back. 

like clockwork, the whispers dulled into eventual silence and you were at peace for once in the last few months. good riddance.

“you need to go back to your lectures.” zayne, a close companion of yours, muttered as he reached to have another piece of cake. that would be his third slice in the last hour. “your prac is in less than a week.”

“you’ve got a med lab tomorrow and yet you’re here for a limited cake.” you scoffed, watching his eyes light up in delight from the bursting flavour of chocolate mixing with vanilla. you wondered if he would have the same reaction with a carrot cake. mind you, he was likely going to be your future doctor.

“that handsome dickhead thinks he can almost fail my trial and then destroy it?” stab, stab, stab went your fork until it made the table shake. zayne swiftly held his plate up to protect his cake. “does he think i won’t report it to the dean?”

honestly, if you did there was a high chance you wouldn’t succeed. with rafayel’s reputation and the allegations of his donations to the university, you were more likely to be bullied into either apologising to rafayel for causing a ruckus or you’d be forced into silence. judging by the look on his face, zayne seemed to have the same idea.

“it’s only a month left of this crap. i’ve just got the prac and i can put all of it behind me. besides,” you stabbed the pastry again, visualising it as that stupid professor of yours. again and again, you stabbed until you felt it would reach your heart’s content. 

and then a striking idea seeped into your mind. what better revenge than to crush him too?

“besides?” zayne repeated with a raised brow. he held out his hand, waiting for you to explain yourself. 

“i have a plan.” your lips spread into a devilish grin. zayne cringed at the sight. he knew that face well. and it only meant trouble was near. “i’m going to make a sculpture of him. dying terribly.”

“isn’t that unethical?”

“i saw someone make a sculpture of their dick, i’ll be fine.”

your alarm went off abruptly, bringing your mind back to your revenge plot. you had already started creating rafayel’s annoyingly perfect head, using pictures you found of him online as a reference. 

you were supposed to do it at the studio, but one of your senior art friends let you use their private room to prepare it. you would do anything if it meant you’d never have to see him more than you had to. after that stunt he pulled, he’d never get the chance to make fun of you again.

you quickly said your goodbyes to zayne – quickly swiping a bite from his cake – and rushed back to the art faculty, beelining straight to the private studios. you mind buzzed with images of you drowning rafayel in the ocean, watching him gracefully swim with fishes, of you burning him alive, of him seducing you with his looks and his tragically angelic voice as his bare form lay for you to replicate with clay– 

a mere pause wasn’t enough for you to gauge what you were just thinking about. those juxtaposing thoughts had your hand on the wall to hold you upright in case you toppled over from your breath being wheezed right out of you.

since when did you find him that hot?

in all honesty, it wasn’t a lie. rafayel’s an insanely attractive man. truly, if you weren’t more reserved with your attraction to him, you’d probably tried to shoot your shot like all the other desperate people in your class. 

his skin was almost pale like he had spent his entire life underwater, clear and soft and constantly emphasising his damn perfect features. not to mention the moles all over him. it was only up to your imagination what everything beneath his clothing was like. perhaps he hid his muscles well under his clothing.

you quickly shook your head, swatting away those mischievous thoughts about him. those visions of him kissing you, and painting you– fuck.

you deeply inhaled, filling your lungs with as much air as you could muster. your eyes fluttered shut, holding back the profanities brewing deep in your throat.

“that damned–“ within an instant your centre of gravity was toppled and travelled to your arm, which was bring dragged by an almost inhumane amount of strength. 

you couldn’t look at who was pulling you without completely losing your balance and toppling over. you stumbled as your dragger’s pace sped up until you were yanked into complete darkness except the small ceiling lamp dimly illuminating the small space.

as your vision adjusted, you observed the room noting a second heavy breath outside of your own. you felt for whatever was close to you. soft bristles, cold metallic cylinders, the overwhelming smell of chemicals. of paint. this was the supply room.

“where were you?” a siren’s melody swam into your ears like water clearing out the impurities from your hearing. rafayel.

you swiftly turned to face him, following his voice. and fuck damn.

he was disheveled. like, roughed up like he ran all the way across campus just to find you. that dumb big chest of his rose up and down las if a child was using it as a trampoline. small beads of sweat dripped down the opening of his button-up shirt to his abdomen, hidden by silk. 

he asked again. “where were you.” less of a question this time, more like a statement.

“that isn’t any of your business.” your eyes narrowed in scrutiny. why would he care?

“it is my business.” he protested, stepping towards you. instinctively, your legs took you an equivalent step back. this was reminding you too much of those cliche scenes– and they only ended in two ways.

to be frank, you wouldn’t have minded the more action-based ending. you may hate the man but that didn’t mean his face wasn’t pretty.

again and again he draws near and close, and again and again does the space between you and the cabinet full of paint grow smaller and smaller. your tongue slipped out, lubricating the small cracks forming on your dry lips.

a small groaned erupts in the room, rafayel slapped his hand over his mouth and halted in his steps. those purple-blue irises rolled back for a millisecond then returned both hazed and dilated. you tugged at the collar of your shirt, your body warming up the more you brought air into your lungs. 

he was acting weirdly. was it the smell of paint? 

“you haven’t been attending classes.” you couldn’t help but laugh. since when was that his concern? “it will affect your final mark.”

“i’ve checked the handbook,” you scowled. yes, you took the time to read the handbook in depth to make sure you weren’t going to get screwed for skipping lectures. “attendance is recommended but optional.”

pink slowly tinted his cheeks under the dim light, contradicting the enraged look on rafayel’s face– almost a bit too similar to the face he made when he scrutinised your sculpture. your lips twitched, almost exposing your smug satisfaction.

truly, you had no reason to be in his class anymore other than the fact that you had given too much of your time to it already. all those sleepless nights, those days of endurance, those moments of temptation– temptation to walk out the door and never turn back. you wanted it. you often felt that you desperately needed it. 

but you knew better. your friends knew better. in those three weeks of your absence zayne persisted in ensuring you finished what you started, whether it was forcing you to work or giving you moral support by making his own botched version of whatever assignment you had to complete. though it did end up helping him when it came to making notes on anatomy. 

you’ve had endless mounds of support in those three weeks. where you felt like absolute shit. where you wanted to just hide. where you were almost willing to drop out.

fucking rafayel wasn’t going to take that away from you. you had nothing to lose. and he wasn’t going to plague you any longer.

“so if you think dragging me into this supply room will do anything, it’ll only get you into a very dangerous meeting with the dean.” you harshly grinned, waving your phone in your hand. rafayel’s eyes slowly widened upon seeing what was displayed on the screen.

you were recording the conversation. you had been since you got tugged away.

“no donations and pretty artworks can take away the blow of harassment,” your phone rested on top of a can of paint on the floor as you glided towards him in a new air of confidence and spite. “professor.”

his response was disappointing. literally, he said and did nothing. like a marbled statue purely there to be admired. damn him, he was so unnecessarily handsome on a godly level. those disrespectful plump pink lips parted and closed as if trying to figure out what words to spout. 

your smile twitched in agitation under his gaze scanning you from your hair to your skintight top pronouncing your curves, and back up to your face. your stance remained rigid, head held high and face taut with wavering spite.

rafayel’s calmness as unsettling, too calculating for your own preference. “you bite your pen when you concentrate in lectures, did you know that?” his voice dropped an octave, reaching a husky flow. a shiver rolled down your spine as it arched in response to his voice. like a siren calling a damned sailor.

“what?” your disbelief came out in a choked whisper. the moisture in your throat was wiped clean from you, leaving complete dryness almost worse than a desert. 

“and you like to listen to the questions,” rafayel continued, moving closer to you in tandem with your rising pulse. his eyes were locked on yours, dragging you deeper into his abyss intending not to let you go. “you bite your lip whenever my voice deepens. and you always have questions but choose not to ask.”

he was getting too close. you were too close. the heat of his breath fanned your skin as his height forced you to raise your gaze to maintain your stare-off. something about it felt a little too hot for your liking. your skin prickled in sensitivity rubbing against the fabric of your clothing.

there was no way this was getting you aroused. no fucking way.

“do you know why you don’t ask?” his hand gripped the edge of the cabinet, just a few centimetres from your head. the distance between your lips slowly yet inevitably closed. your breath was trapped in your throat almost clawing for release but it remained trapped. 

“you’re scared.”

“i’m not afraid of drawing, rafayel.” first name basis already? you were really testing your luck. you expected him to return to that unsettling silence again before telling you that your suspension was pending.

instead, rafayel broke into a chuckle, sweat-slick chest and shoulders shaking as he laughed. he quickly straightened his lips upon seeing your eye twitch, only to burst into another fit of suppressed laughs. 

“who in their mind would be afraid of a bit of paint?” his voice returned to that familiar serene, light tone. the one that brought half the student body to its knees. “no, no, no. i’ve managed to reduce it to two things.” 

you instantly jerked back as far as you could – which wasn’t really that far because were already at your dead end – and balled your hand into a tight fist, ready to punch him square in the jaw. the side of your neck tickled with heat as his lips hovered by your ear.

“me, or the chance that you’ll do incredibly well.”

bewildered was an understatement. you were discombobulated at the least. you couldn’t even say it was a bizarre assumption because it was true. 

not the fact that you were afraid of rafayel– he’s a walking model who pouts whenever someone speaks to him with a bit more sass than him. even his relentless critique of you doesn’t illicit fear. the only thing he’s gained from that was you growing to despise him.

but your confidence in your artistic abilities were never high. remember, you only joined the course for your friend. and they ditched you last minute. you walked into the studio with the mindset of knowing that you were likely to fail even if you put your hardest work in. 

clearly, he noticed.

“you walked into my class knowing nothing,” rafayel leaned back to face your gaze once more with a stern look on his face. “it’s only understandable that you’d be afraid of messing it up. i can see it in your art. i can sense the fear.”

“yeah, right.” you huffed, turning your face away to blink away the stinging sensation burning your eyes. “you prefer to call it lazy and then destroy it.”

for the first time in however long its been since you were trapped in this room with him, rafayel’s facade broke. a flicker of guilt flashed in his gaze. then confusion.

“destroy?”

“don’t act coy.” he could not just play coy. “you destroyed my trial sculpture. there are pictures of it spreading everywhere. you know what you did.” 

rafayel slowly shook his head. “i found it like that,” his voice was grave, eyes almost darkened just from the memory. “i was trying to get a scope of the damage to see if i could redo it for you, but it was beyond repair.”

a grave heaviness weighed on your heart. he wanted to fix it? despite being so cruel to you he was that willing to repair your work on your behalf… but that didn’t answer the footage.

“and the picture?” what was meant to come out as a scrutinising hiss escaped as a whisper, holding back the many tears brewing in your eyes.

“i had heard giggles outside the studio, but they ran out before i could check.” his perfect brows furrowed as he observed you. it was more than just intuitive for him to comfort you, console your shock away. his hand reached to hold your arm, to transfer his remorse through his body’s warmth. “i am sorry about what happened to your sculpture. really.”

“don’t.” the involuntary pang in rafayel’s chest did not go unnoticed. his lungs filled with shaking air, unsure of how to proceed. you weren’t pushing him away nor were you hiding. it looked like you were equally as unsure.

“the mark you gave it–“ you seethed, voice cracking as the venom of your tongue delivered each words with malice. “the embarrassment. the shame it left me drowning in, all of it. it was you. and you think you can play innocent and ask why i haven’t shown up?”

rafayel’s fingers twitched, hovering over your skin hesitant to move away. perhaps he was too hard on you, too particular in his interest to monitor your growth in the arts. his face scrunched up, unsure of what you’d allow him to try without violating your space.

“you think you can use that stupidly pretty face to ask for forgiveness?” it was clearly intended to be a mumble that he wasn’t supposed to hear but he did. loud and clear. the tips of his ears instantly warmed and his brows rose.

“stupidly pretty face?” 

shit.

shit.

of course he heard you. of course he fucking heard you call him pretty. you just wanted to crawl into a pint of paint and choke on it until it filled your lungs with chemical pigment. and there was no way out of this too. rafayel quite literally had you trapped with his body. 

his tall, divinely sculpted, soft, gorgeous body. that artistically designed form that you’ve dreamt of touching, that you’ve touched yourself to in your quiet nights– not that you’d ever admit it to anyone let alone him.

warm, almost hot, fingers slide up your arm trailing the standing hairs on your skin. they rounded your shoulder and meeting with the fabric of your clothing, fondling it to check its quality. they reached higher, and hotter, slow and intentional feeling the curve of your throat until the pad of his thumb reached your chin, lifting it until your gaze found his. a raw, newfound level of unspoken, familiar need engulfed you— and you weren’t uncomfortable with it.

“you think i’m pretty?” that husk tone returned, tickling away your nerves replacing them with something more feral. 

“everyone does.” you huffed, trying to maintain the front of rafayel’s charms not affecting you. it was almost obvious to you both that you’d fallen in deep. 

and yet despite embarrassing yourself, rafayel refused to back down. his thumb’s touch on your chin roughened into a grip with his hand. a mischievous glint twinkled in his eyes. 

“say it again.”

it was either the way he said it or the way he looked at you while saying it. regardless, it left your core warm and throbbing with an unprecedented level of need. this was wrong but it felt so right.

you slowly swallowed. “say what?”

the distance between your lips slowly closed, bit by bit. “that i have a stupidly pretty face.”

“no.”

his soft laugh fanned your face like a warm, mint scented breeze. “say it.”

your eyes darted between his own, noting how unnatural yet befitting the colours mixes and emphasised his almost inhumane beauty. it used to sink you yet now you could tell he was starting to drown in yours.

“make me.”

an erratic charge surged between you like lightning striking a tense, hot night. rafayel softly tutted, shaking his head– almost desperate to shake off his unspoken desire to pursue this. to pursue you. his hands did not leave you though. his grip on your face returned to your neck, securing a gentle hold on the base of your exposed flesh, both soft and pulsating with nerves.

rafayel pressed his forehead on yours, your connection anchoring him to reality and restraining his needs. “tell me you think i’m pretty.” his eyes grew heavy with heat, hazing in and out of focus as they moved from your spit-slick lips, your eyes, and every distinguishable feature on your face.

in twisted, lewd synchrony, your lower lip found itself caught seductively in the bite of your teeth. the corners of your lips twitched like they wanted to expose your snarky grin. like your body wanted to show rafayel how you’ve dreamt of that moment.

you should be pushing him away. you should minutes ago. but you didn’t. you didn’t want to. your eyes fluttered shut as rafayel’s grip on your face tightened, finally pulling you both into the passionate embrace of your lips. 

the first contact was a shock, forcing you into a soft jolt. his lips were even softer than you imagined, his hands gentle yet crushing to keep you in his hold rubbing small circles on your skin with his thumb.

then the erratic hunger kicked in like a shot of vodka. your faces pushed deeper into each other almost desperate to keep yourselves deep in your embrace. your fingers tangled in his soft locks, your mind drowning in the flowing currents of his scent. 

lips waltzing in a push and pull fell into an intoxicating dance of tug and bite. it drove you insane until it was just too much. 

you slowly pulled your head back, still connected to him by his teeth latched onto your lower lip nibbling at your swollen flesh.

“this can’t be right.” you sighed against his lips, leaning your head back to catch some air without feeling like your face will get hotter. “we must be violating some code of conduct.”

that irritating chuckle escaped his lips again. “then push me away.”

you should have. you definitely should have. before you could even consider it you found your lips back on his, drooling tongue sweeping past the enclosure of his lips to meet his. it was hot and deliciously wet meeting in a careless fight to taste as much as your breaths could allow.

you rolled your hips against his– slight and subtle– just enough to feel a slight brush of him. to feel it. he felt so big and thick. 

a sharp curse flooded your ears, his hands tugged at your waist to pull you closer and make you feel it. his fingers twitched and squeezed you, caressing your waist without abandon, rising ruthlessly higher until his hands disappeared under your shirt. he was boiling, a human inferno trapped in a body of flesh and bone restricted by restraint yet fuelled with hunger. 

they reached inchingly closer to the swell of your breasts, barely contained by your bra– you needed him to rip it off at this point. they curved over the lace and enclosed on each one, pulling your perked nipples out to fondle.

his tight hold on you dragged out a sound not meant to leave your lips. it was enough to make him snap. two hot bodies pressed to each other, clothing almost completely unravelled, and the door behind you still unlocked.

the air was thick and hot with heavy pressure and mutual need. 

a low grunt rumbled deep in rafayel’s throat as he pulled away from the intoxication that was your lips. “tell me to stop.” his lips ghosted over your skin, dragging a light trail of your mixed saliva down your neck until it stopped with a gentle peck. “tell me to walk away.”

“fuck no.” you panted. your hand tugged at his soft hair, pushing him deeper into your neck. “finish what you started.”

he laughed against your skin, marvelled by how much wittier you became when you weren’t tense. when you were fogged in temptation. he could only imagine how much more of you he’d experience the further down his lips went.

perhaps you tasted just as good as you smelt. his knees buckled at the thought, the mere sight of his eyes looking up to you as you lost composure was as unprofessional as it could get. his cock throbbed in his slacks, pumping so loudly he could barely hear himself breathe.

still gripping your fleshy mounds, rafayel sunk beneath your gaze never breaking contact with your beautiful eyes. one hand slowly crept down out of the warmth of your shirt to your alarmingly short skirt.

it was the third time he had seen you wear it since you joined his class. and every time his eyes were attached to you more than before. the vision of raising it above your pretty ass had always crossed his mind but he always had the mind to maintain decorum. the sea must have blessed him with this privilege today.

“need to eat you,” he whispered into your skin, spreading kisses all over you like invisible marks of his name. “taste you.”

your imagination conjured many things for you to indulge in, but this was beyond what even you could dream of. his glossy gaze, deliberate hot touch, his damned soft lips searing you with his affections… how could you say no?

your head hit the edge of the cabinet as you nodded in desperation, so needy for his mouth to explore you everywhere, so aroused that nothing could hold you back from sinking deeper and deeper. your legs slowly split apart, welcoming rafayel’s gentle hand with grace.

completely sat on the floor, the professor stared at your legs in a daze of reverence and worship. he was salivating the scent of your dripping pussy reeling him in like a fish swimming to bait. and he wouldn’t even consider himself damned if it meant being hooked by you.

his grip tightened on your thigh, fingers pressing into you to memorise your shape and how you felt by his touch. his hand slid down your leg in a great struggle to hold onto the last of his restraint while your pants and soft moans just made things so much worse.

“don’t make too much noise,” he quietly groaned, licking a line up your thigh up to the lacy panties covering your warmth. his eyes rolled back as your scent flooded his senses like a drug. in a fuss, rafayel pushed your skirt up revealing red lace. 

he almost came on the spot. 

his fingers slipped between the hem, feeling you up and down. he just had to go a bit further… just a little to get a taste of that sweet nectar. his eyes darted upwards to find you completely disheveled, pretty lips parted, chest heaving with your nipples pressed against your shirt, and your hands holding his head as close to your pussy as possible.

rafayel’s lips curved into a lustful smile and finally pushed his fingers further into your panties, brushing over your sensitive nub. a sharp gasp sounded in the room, his scalp ached from the harsh tug you forced on him before slowly pushing him back where he was.

you were so cute.

you didn’t feel cute. you felt like you were boiling up, throbbing to the point where it hurt, dripping like a fucking river. you were surprised your wetness wasn’t dripping down your legs already. rafayel was definitely the type to lick it up to prevent it going to waste.

his fingers crept around your clit, ghosting circles round and round in a teasing tickle almost like he wanted to pull a reaction out of you. every subtle reaction, every jolt and twitch, and every hesitant tug at his hair made his hips jut into the air with his cock roughly straining his slacks.

he tilted his head, lips enclosing around your clothed clit, swiping his tongue sloppily around you, loudly moaning at your taste. his fingers finally found your pussy, soaking before they even went inside you. you slapped your hand over your mouth. he was going to drive you insane.

loud squelches echoed around you with his fingers teasing and tapping your hole to draw out as much of your nectar as he could. your pussy lips were as swollen the lips he kissed and bit, sensitive to his finger sliding up and down before slowly plunging into you.

just as his lips parted more– a loud bang! shocked you both out of your trance of indulgence. you yelped and jerked back, pussy walls tightening around his fingers as he swiftly moved his head away from your core– a string of saliva connecting him to your clit cruelly reminding him how far he let his desire take him.

the shockwave of the noise sent the door rattling as if someone was about to walk in on you. rafayel adjusted your underwear back in place and tugged your skirt down, rearranging it so that you were somewhat presentable. your hands shakily fixed his messed hair in a sore attempt to ignore the aching need your pussy screamed to you.

your clothes stuck to your skin from the heat, your vision hazed by lust and interrupted pleasure so filthy and sinful that you couldn’t help but bite your lip. 

rafayel licked his lips as he rose to his feet, knees aching even though it felt like he had only been beneath you for seconds. he straightened his clothing, mustering the courage to face your gaze. you were dangerously close. dangerously beautiful. dangerously arousing. he just had to kiss you again. 

“i’ll deal with the person that damaged your sculpture.” his voice both husky and cracked still rumbled deep within you. “please forgive me and the incident.” 

without another word, he stalked out of the supply room leaving you to fully dissect what just happened.

he almost ate you out.

rafayel, your professor, almost ate you out. in a supply room. and he left you in need for so much more. a single step would send your poor clit, and your pussy really, into a frenzy– both sore and soaked, vibrating with pleasure. 

you were going to have to figure out how to deal with it.

but rafayel was determined to deal with it now.

he almost sprinted to his office, dizzy with lust. it was locked and dark with only candles giving him light. stacks of paper was spread out all over his desk left abandoned while he sat in front of his recent work– a completely blank canvas.

gods, his length was already leaking through his pants and aching so fucking hard that any subtle movement would have him cumming for hours.

rafayel didn’t bother removing himself with the delicacy of taking care of himself properly. his hands fumbled at the buckle of his belt, fingers slipping out of control before he could tug it off and toss it to the floor.

his vision was blurring him blind and abandoned him in the memory of your lips, your divine mixing scent, your melodic voice, and your taste. your noses had brushed and bumped into each other while his tongue ventured deep in your mouth, tasting the remains of the sweet pastry and bitter coffee you had consumed beforehand.

the office was somehow as hot as he was, the air burned with the fading remnants of your scent driving into a state of great distress. the zipper to his pants were already forced down from the sheer will of his cock raging and throbbing against its confines. he barely bothered himself with pulling them down, hurriedly gripping his girthy length both recklessly pulsating and near suffocating in dribbling precum.

his fingers rose to his lips, rubbing at the swollen effect of you attacking him with your teeth. it still stung from a light touch and that only aroused him more. his fingers were still sticky from caressing and plunging into your juicy pussy— explicitly reminding him how delicious you were.

without further thought, he pushing his digits on his salivating tongue and the flavours that were you burst into his senses like an inferno raging through a dry forest. rafayel’s eyes fluttered as they rolled back, a loud and deep moan soon to follow. 

“f-fuck.” he could just curse and curse for hours. “you did this to me.”

his tongue swirled between his fingers to absorb and savour as much of you as it could. he wasn’t too sure on whether he’d get the privilege to be so close to you again. he suckled on the tips of his finger like he would with that swollen clit of yours. fuck, you just somehow got a grip on him that he couldn’t shake off.

every moment he spent observing you just made him attach more and more even when he knew he shouldn’t have. but you intrigued him. your determination despite your lack of confidence. your thick skin in the face of his - often unnecessary - critique. 

not to mention of good your lips felt with his own. 

a shaky sigh shuddered out his lips as his hand slowly stroked up and down reaching to his base and tickling the leaky slit of his reddened tip. his hips jerked into his hand violently sending his head lolling back over the couch. 

the tandem rhythm of his hips remained constant, thrusting into the air and being squeezed tightly by his hand to simulate that jaw clenching strength your pussy walls used to grip on him. no matter how hard he’d try nothing would be able to replicate the effect you had on him. 

your name bouncing on the walls in an endless prayer turned to a song of moans and grunts. rafayel’s saliva-slick hand ran down his neck to his chest and slipped through his shirt to circle his perked nipples now rendered completely sensitive to even a breath.

while feeling each vine surrounding his cock pulsate, a lewd idea slithered into his mind like his most devious desires slipping right out to control him. he was so painfully hard it hurt. his clothes were sticking to his skin, dampened by his sweat and precum mixed together.

and then he raised his palm and struck it across his cock. smack! the sound struck through the room like thunder. 

a gasp, then a laugh, then another smack! followed by a husky moan.

the sting melted into rousing pleasure so instantaneously it almost gave him whiplash. he did it again.

smack!

and again.

smack!

up until the pain was enough to knock him unconscious. with each swing, his cock flew back upwards and jutted into the air shooting drops of precum up. rafayel bit his lip at the sight, greedily laughing at the pure slutty act he performed for himself. 

he could only dream for you to do the same thing.

his hand did not stop once it returned to stroking. the plap! plap! rapidly sounding as his hand fisted his cock to oblivion was disrespectfully slick. but it could be so much wetter. rafayel swiftly leaned over his length and spat straight onto his sobbing cockhead, pulling his hand right up to swirl and mix it all with his palm.

the wet friction alone was debilitating. he fucked himself into his hand like a rabid animal in intense heat, rutting like a fool drunken by a mere whiff of your scent. his hips lifted right off the couch, chasing his climax and hand that wasn’t even running from him– though could imagine you would.

“so– fucking– tight–“ he squeezed harder until his entire cock was red. the pain no longer affected him. his only devotion was hitting his edge in the hopes that it would feel like a fraction of what it would be like inside you.

inside your wet mouth, stretched wide open for him, drooling down your chin right onto your tits. or even inside your sweet pussy, throbbing and fluttering as your walls squeeze him with each thrust that tickles you to multiple orgasms.

“take it– take– oh fuck.” his voice cracked into a whiny whimper as his hands rolled over his leaking slit every time his hand brushed over his tip. the other hand continued to assault his chest, abusing his sensitivity to the max. 

the hand pumping his cock raised to smack it over and over, left and right in a broken tempo. his cock jumped, legs practically shivering from the pleasure and spreading wider and wider like you sat between them to take him deep in your mouth.

he couldn’t help himself. smack! the pain felt so good. smack! it was so wrong yet so stupidly right. smack! he’d do this for hours if he could. his core tightened, awaiting his incoming climax as his cock pulsed in a plea for him to stroke it to oblivion.

his grip became utterly brutal, rapidly pumping his shaft like his hand was a fucking fleshlight. he was messy, wet, and his lewd mixture of fluid was dripping down his legs onto the couch beneath him, staining and soaking the fabric. he twisted his hand right at the tip shocking his senses beyond the board.

he brought his hand to his tongue, lapping up all the precum sitting so impolitely on him, swallowing every drop like sacred water. his free hand slid down to finish what he started and rubbed and stroked with the intention to push him right to the end.

his body tensed as one more cruel squeeze snapped the tight thin rope within him. his eyes crossed, seeing only pure white. his breath hitched, and thick ropes of hot, sticky cum shot up like rockets and splattered all over him like fallen paint.

moans and whimpers shivered out of him like a broken record, your name remained mixed within his curses. his hand didn’t stop its relentless strokes. it persisted in dragging him through his high no matter how many times he’d try to stop himself. 

his cock ached and weeped, leaking hot white all over his hand as it gradually slowed. it had gone right up to his chin. rafayel lowly groaned, both fucked out and ruined beyond comprehension. ruined by his own hand and the thought of what more you could have done in that supply room.

rafayel raised his shaking hand to his face, analysing the way it glistened over his flushed skin. his tongue poked out of his lips and swiped all the way up from his wrist to the tip of his finger then took it deep inside. the flavour of his own juices mixed with your own, drawing a lustful moan from him.

he slurped it all up, licking his hand completely clean in an obscene and deliberate manner. like he was putting on a show for you, even though you weren’t actually there, and swallowed it all with great satisfaction.

he slouched into the couch, breath still laboured and heavy. he was still filthy and drenched and yet he still had the greed for so much more. 

that beautiful laugh replaced the echoes of his lewd noises once his high slowly dissipated. 

all that from a kiss?

rafayel was fucked.

might just post a calm part ii if you guys like it

[blushofeve]

Private Windows (18+)

roomies!au, ≈4.6k words, banner art, 18+ MDNI!!!

Caleb, your childhood friend and now roommate, has spied on you for as long as he can remember. More than he would like, but nothing major...

When his bad habit leads him to a trove of your preferences... things spiral pretty fast.

cw/tags: caleb x f!reader, this is kinda yandere-ish, very freak for freak, reader and caleb are both pervy and obessive just in differing ways, roommate romance, voyeurism, mutual masturbation, secret recordings, audio kink, JOI (jerk off instruction), if you like boys moaning i see you this is for you, unintentional exhibitionism, possessiveness, audio porn, smut, pining, obsession, spying, phone sex, shower sex, dom/sub undertones, filthy dirty talk, praise & degradation mix, Penetrative sex (M/F), Minor degradation / name-calling, petnames, explicit language, emotional vulnerability, childhood friends to lovers, dubcon elements (light), male masturbation, female masturbation, edging, breeding talk, overstimulation, praise kink, size kink, voice kink, jealousy, protective behavior

author's note: so I wasn't going to post this one, but after deliberation and changing a few things here's fic #??? that is calebmc are freaky for the first time after weird yearning. In this one, they are besties and roomies and a lil twisted but it's sweet I promise. Also I love 'caleb accidentaly finds out that you're horny' as a trope. sue me...

Get added to my taglist(s):

🍎 for caleb,

☃️ for zayne

🖤 for sylus (in future)

🐟 for rafayel (also in future)

🌟 for xavier (also a maybe in future)

🐇 to be on the list for all of my writing

Caleb hears the water shut off, but you don’t come out right away.

You never do. He knows your rituals by heart now—lotions, oils, a towel wrapped under your arms while you hover in the mirror, dazed and soft and half-lost in your own reflection. Maybe you light a candle. Maybe you hum. He listens from the kitchen like he isn’t listening. Like this isn’t the highlight of his evening.

You’ve been friends since childhood. Now you’re roommates. Easy. Familiar. Innocent, on the surface...

Except... he knows your body better than anyone you’ve ever dated. By sheer force of proximity. The way your towel clings. The way your thighs look flushed after a long shower. The breathy little sighs you let slip when you think no one can hear. The way you’ve been slipping away to the bathroom with your phone at night, headphones jammed in, eyes glassy and far away when you return. The way you can barely look at him then...

He’s tried not to be a creep. Tried.

But he’s always been… curious. He checks your phone sometimes—only when it’s unattended, only when it’s obvious you’re not watching.

It's just to make sure you’re safe. Just to make sure no one’s talking to you the way he wants to. Your passcode has always been his birthday. You never changed it.

But lately, you’ve gotten good at… hiding things.

He noticed a few weeks ago—apps locked with passwords, strange browsing patterns, weirdly cleared histories. Some things that show that you've become suspicious. You’ve known. And that should have stopped him. It didn’t.

Tonight, you disappear into your room after your shower. He hears the door click. He waits.

Then he notices it. From across the room through the open bathroom door: your phone is on the bathroom counter.

It's just sitting there.

And it's still unlocked.

His heart skips. He hesitates for a long second—don’t do this again, she’s gonna know—but curiosity gnaws louder than guilt. He crosses the hallway barefoot and steps inside. The room smells like you. Vanilla and bodywash. The mirror is still foggy.

And there it is—your phone, propped slightly against the sink.

He picks it up.

His thumb glides over the screen. The home screen stares back at him. No passcode prompt. Open.

And your browser is up.

A shiver runs through him when he realizes you didn’t close your tabs.

The first one reads:

“Audio Only JOI — Deep Male Moans, Whimpering, Talking You Through It”

His throat tightens.

He scrolls.

Another:

“Buff guys edging themselves, arms shaking, moaning/whining”

Then:

“Muscled men begging for you (POV JOI)”

“Big hands, dark hair, rasp in voice, whiny strokes, slow”

His pulse drums in his ears.

The first reaction is jealousy. Who the fuck are you watching? Who makes you... wet... behind closed doors?

But then he really sees them, looks more. A string of thumbnails. Videos paused mid-frame. Slightly sun-tanned skin. Dark hair. Thick forearms. Sloped shoulders. One of them even has a voice like his... a bit husky, whispering something filthy with a tremor he recognizes from his own mouth.

And that’s when it hits him: they look and sound... like him.

These aren’t just random pornstars. This isn’t just one kink you stumbled into.

You’ve been searching for him, you just didn’t have the guts to say it.

The phone trembles in his hand. His breath fogs the mirror.

For a moment he does nothing. He just stares. Then, he locks the screen, sets it back on the counter exactly how you left it, and slips away before the steam fully fades.

You’re asleep when he checks on you.

Your door’s cracked open like always. You’ve collapsed on top of your sheets, still half-wrapped in the same towel, your skin warm and dewy. There’s a quiet glow in your face. A little smile at the corners of your mouth. Your legs are slightly parted and your arm is flopped between your legs.

Caleb stands there by your door for too long, listening to your breathing. Imagining what you did in the shower to slump into bed and fall asleep.

Imagining it was him you were thinking of.

When he closes his door that night, he doesn’t sleep either. He opens his voice recorder.

Just audio, he tells himself. Just once. Just to see.

He doesn’t even turn the lights on. The glow from his phone screen is enough. It casts his room in soft, cold blue. The hum of the fan drowns out the outside world. All he can hear is his own heartbeat and the faint echo of your name in his skull, like it’s trying to escape his throat.

Caleb sets the phone beside him on the bed, thumb hovering over the record button.

He’s never done this before. Not like this, with the thought of someone watching him.

A deep inhale. His other hand grazes down over his stomach, slowly. Testing. His skin is still warm from the steam that clung to him after he checked on you. He can still smell you—vanilla, shampoo, and the aroused sweat shamefully clinging to your towel. His jaw tightens.

He hits Record.

There’s a moment of silence. Then his voice, soft, cracking mutters, "I shouldn’t be doing this.”

Another breath. Slower. He drags his hand lower.

“You left your phone out, pips.”

“I know you wouldn’t want me to look. I know you’re careful now.”

A shaky exhale. The sound of shifting sheets.

“But, baby…”

“I saw what you’ve been watching. What you like to hear.”

The first sound of him touching himself comes quietly, slick, rhythmic. His breathing is hitching just enough to make it clear he’s already half-hard.

“Strong guys moaning, right? Big hands. Biceps. Deep voice... Begging...”

He whimpers as he edges and half-laughs at the sound, soft and low, more breath than noise. He's dazed... dizzy...

“They all kinda look like me.”

“Did you know that, pipsqueak? Hm? Was that on purpose?” His voice cracks on the last word.

Then there's a pause. A shaky inhale.

“You listen to them alone. In the shower. You touch yourself where I can’t see you.”

“You’re thinking about me, aren’t you? If it were anyone else I die... Had... to do this for you... you deserve the best...”

The strokes speed up slightly. His breath falters. He groans—choked off like he’s trying not to be too loud.

“God, I can’t stop thinking about your face…”

“What you looked like right after. Why were your legs open like that? Your hand was... fuck...”

There’s a rustle. His voice drops again, almost pleading.

“I felt dirty for checking, but honestly... I don’t feel guilty. Not when I know.”

“Not when it’s me you’re looking for in those videos.”

The sound of his hand is steady now. Wet. Measured. Like he’s savoring it, letting it build.

“You want me to moan like them? You want me to shake for you, say your name while I fuck my fist thinking about your mouth? It's not like I don't... fuck... It's not like I don't already...”

A hitched breath—he’s close. But he doesn’t let go.

He stops. Breath ragged.

“I could’ve cum already... M'so close...”

“But I want to wait. I want to record this right. I want to do it for you.”

“Just... listen to this later, okay?”

His breathing calms, shallow and soft.

“Pretend I’m in your bed. Pretend I know how you sound when you come.”

“One day, maybe you won’t have to pretend, yeah?”

He keeps for a while, choosing a few seconds after he cums, breathing heavily to be when he hits stop.

There’s a long moment where he just stares at the file, sitting there with his cock still wet in his hand and his breath still shallow and your name echoing in his ears like he whispered it into you for real.

He saves the file.

Names it:

For You — 1

Then he does it again the next night. And the next. Sometimes just audio. Sometimes video. Each one more unhinged, more sincere, more soaked in devotion and shame and desperation.

By the end of the week, there’s a whole folder.

He names it your name for now.

☆☆☆☆☆

He leaves that weekend, a five-day trip with Gideon and some old college friends, a bunch of guys being guys. He cooks for you, makes sure you have everything you need. You're teasing him about it, as he leaves while making you promise you'll eat and sleep and won't perish with him gone.

☆☆☆☆☆

Caleb sends the link the first night.

Gideon’s half-drunk on the other bed, babbling about some bar they’re gonna hit later. Something about tequila, maybe girls. Caleb nods along. Smiles. Pretends. But his phone’s heavy in his palm, your name pulsing in the corner of the screen, tied to the folder he’s been obsessively compiling for the last four nights.

He stares at the share settings. Adjusts them. Thinks about not doing it.

Then he hits Send.

That night, you don’t reply.

Not the next day either.

He doesn’t expect you to—at first. Maybe you haven’t seen it yet. Maybe you don’t know what to say. Maybe you’re scared. Maybe he crossed a line.

But by the third day, he’s pacing the motel room while Gideon’s out drinking with some friends from undergrad, replaying the moments before he hit “send” like a crime scene. The sound of your name in his own voice, whispering through his headphones. The way he begged, at the end, to see your face next time.

Nothing. No text. No reaction. No call.

He thinks he’s ruined everything.

Until: Incoming video call — [Pipsqueak]

His stomach drops.

He fumbles with the phone, thumb shaking as he answers.

“Hello...?"

The camera opens.

You’re in the shower.

You’ve propped the phone against the tile. The screen is foggy, but he can see you. Bare shoulders, your collarbones glistening. Water trailing down your chest. Your breathing’s already unsteady, like you’ve been working yourself up to this.

His jaw clenches so hard it aches.

“Fuck.” The word slips out of him like a gasp. He sits back hard on the edge of the motel bed. “What are you doing?”

“I couldn’t stop listening,” you say, voice barely above the rush of water. “I—I wanted to wait ‘til I saw your face again... you said you wanted... you wanted to see me...”

He covers his mouth with one hand, squeezing his eyes shut for a second like he’s praying.

“You—you watched the videos?” he asks. He sounds broken. Hopeful. Scared.

You nod. Water beads off your lashes. “All of them. Like... a lot.”

Caleb’s breath punches out of him.

Your hands are moving. Slow. Just below frame. You’re not even hiding it. Your body is slick with water, each traveling droplet sending shockwaves straight to his throbbing cock.

“You didn’t text me,” he says. His voice cracks. “I thought I fucking scared you. I thought I lost you.”

“You didn’t scare me,” you whisper. “You just made me feel... embarrassed... And filthy, shameful... And... so horny... I couldn't think... I can't believe... you spied on me... perv...~”

You moan in between shaky breaths as you touch yourself the same frustrated way you were before you even called.

He groans, head falling back.

“God, pips...”

The camera shifts. Your fingers trail up your stomach now. Soap and steam glistening across your skin.

“Will you look at me?” you ask, eyes wide, lip trembling.

He stares, blinking.

Soaks in every inch of your exposed body like he’s been starved for it. His hands move off-camera—then come back with his shirt dragging over his head, hair messy, breath already shallow.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” he whispers. “You’re touching yourself in the shower... while I’m on the fucking phone, just looking at you... like that”

You whimper, face hot from both steam and arousal. “I wanted it to be like your recordings. I wanted to hear you. See you.”

He shifts. You can hear it now—his belt, the zipper, his hand stroking himself offscreen.

“D'you like watching me like this?” you ask, a little breathless. "I listened... to you moan my name so many times... I started hearing it when I touched myself without you... I couldn't stop.”

Caleb bites back a sound that isn’t even human. “Hngh... Fuck, baby...” His hand’s wet now, slick with spit, working faster.

“Will you…?” Your voice shakes. “Will you do what you did in those videos?”

He looks straight at the screen now, raw and trembling.

“I’ll do anything,” he says. “You—you were thinking of me when you came, weren’t you? It was me. Always me.”

You nod. Whine. Rock your hips against your hand.

“I want to see you,” he whispers. “Please. Show me. Let me see you touch yourself.”

Your camera tilts and your fingers move into view. He watches, jaw slack, a wild edge in his eyes like he might lose control right there.

“Fuck. You’re so—God, you’re perfect.”

“I want to watch you, too,” you whisper. “Come? For me? I want to see how it is when you can really see me, too.”

He groans, desperate. “Mmph... Y-you don’t even know what you do to me...” His strokes speed up. His breath is ragged. “I’ve been thinking about this for years, and now I’m watching you all wet and needy in the fucking shower while I’m stuck in this shitty room—”

You moan his name, your lips trembling while water beads down the length of your stomach, soft and pleading.

That’s it. He chokes on the breath it takes to recover from seeing you like this. Then, his body arches forward, his hand pumping furiously as he swears and whimpers your name like it’s the only word he knows. The phone tilts in his other hand—he tries to hold it steady, to show you everything, his face twisting in pleasure, lips parted, eyes full of something so hungry it almost hurts to see.

He cums hard. Streams of white down his thick cock and over his fist... Moaning just the sound of your name over and over, his voice panting into the speaker.

You come seconds later, soaking wet, gasping and moaning his name like you’ve lost your breath in it.

The call ends when you nervously press the end call button, and end up sitting there for a long time... just in the shower... water cooling, heartbeat still stuttering behind your ribs.

You press your forehead to the tile.

You don’t know what the fuck you just did.

The ache between your legs hasn’t fully faded. Neither has the sound of his voice—rough, breathless. Whiny. You try not to replay the way he looked when he came for you, the way he said your name like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world.

But it’s impossible to ignore.

And now you’re stuck with it.

He comes home in two days.

You don't say much of anything after.

You texted him “goodnight” right after the call, a gentle end to something that felt more like a dream than real life. He replied just minutes later.

“Sleep good, baby. Can’t wait to see you.”

That was it. Two full days left.

You spend the next morning walking through your apartment like it’s someone else’s house. Everything smells like him. His hoodie’s on the back of the couch. His toothbrush is still wet in the cup. His empty mug is in the sink.

You keep touching your phone like you’ll find a message that says he’s changed his mind. Or that he regrets it. Or that he wants to do it again.

You start typing things, then delete them.

You scroll through the folder again, re-watch the last video he added.

The one with his face flushed, panting, his voice strained as he groaned:

“I wanna do this with your legs around me next time.”

“Want you to look at me while I fuck into you. No fucking screen. Just us... My hands all over you while I stretch you open like the good slut you wanna be...”

"Gonna whimper like this... while I fill you up... lose my mind inside you... you want that? That alright?"

You shut your phone off.

Your stomach turns.

Because it wasn’t just... phone sex...

You’ve seen him hard. You've seen him cum. For you. He’s seen you fall apart for him. You’ve heard his voice say things he can’t take back. And now he’s going to stand in your kitchen like always, barefoot and sleepy-eyed, and what are you supposed to do?

What if he kisses you? What if he doesn’t?

That night, you find yourself back in the shower, again.

You want to touch yourself, but you're too full of nerves.

You just sit, knees pulled to your chest, and imagine him walking through the door.

☆☆☆☆☆

The day of Caleb's return, the knock is soft but it hits your chest like a thunderclap.

You’re lying on your bed in a yellow lingerie dress... this one you bought months ago for your own birthday, but never had the reason to wear.

Thin straps, delicate lace that hugs your curves just right, the fabric catching every light in the room like liquid gold. Your heart hammers so loud you’re afraid he’ll hear it.

You almost don’t believe he’s here. Part of you thinks he might knock and then leave if you don't answer. Part of you prays he won’t. Either way, you can't say anything.

The door creaks open anyway.

He steps inside like he owns the space—and maybe he does, at least in this moment. His eyes are purple and dark, and heavy with exhaustion, but there’s intesity lurking beneath. His gaze slides down your body, slow and hungry.

“You wearing that for me?” His voice is low, rough, a growl you want to swallow whole.

You can’t speak. You just nod, mouth dry.

He moves closer, and the air feels charged, electric.

Caleb’s breath catches when he takes you in fully. Then, suddenly, he collapses onto the bed, landing right between your legs.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just breathes you in—your scent, your warmth.

Then his voice is rough, desperate.

“Did you like the call?” He lifts his head just enough to look you in the eye. “Hearing me touch myself, thinking about you... watching you?”

You bite your lip. “I did. It made me feel…” Your voice trembles. “…dangerous?” You sound stupid, you think. You look away from him and he grins, a sharpened spark lighting his eyes.

“You are dangerous,” he says. “You’ve been testing me, all this time. Seeing you like this… like you’re daring me...” He swallows hard, voice dropping lower, “...makes me want to keep you locked in a world where no one else can even breathe your air...”

You hesitate for a moment, heart in your throat. Then you lean forward, lips brushing along his jaw in the softest kiss.

“Is that... okay? Can I keep you too?” you whisper.

His hand curls around your wrist, holding you close.

“You remember what I said in what I sent you?” His eyes darken. “About what I’d do if I had you like this.”

You nod, breath hitching.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Because I’m going to make sure you never forget.”

Caleb’s breath is heavy as he pulls you closer, his lips grazing your jaw like fire on skin.

His voice drops to a low, almost ragged whisper.

“What’s it gonna take to get you wet?”

He breathes out your name, then pushes himself just a little closer, his hand sliding up your thigh, fingertips tracing lazy, teasing circles.

“Just talk, huh?” he growls.

“You want me to tell you how hard I am? How badly I want to be your good fuck toy... just for you... my greedy girl... now that I know what you are?”

His voice breaks just slightly, more needy than he wants you to hear.

“Fuck... I know now... what a slut you are…” he murmurs.

“You can’t just, go around... smiling in my face... then stare at men who look like me, wishing for me... with your hands stretched between your thighs... fantasizing... when I’m not around.”

He presses a kiss to the pulse at your neck, teeth grazing.

“You’ve heard me for real now, haven’t you?” His voice goes softer, but every word drips with all he wants.

“You’re worse off than before… now that you know exactly how I could fall apart for you.”

You whine his name, voice trembling.

He bites his lip, eyes dark with need, then asks, desperate to know, “Is it working?”

You nod without hesitation, eyes screwed shut. Looking at him almost hurts, you want to swallow him whole. You want him to pull you apart by the thread.

His lips crash with finality onto yours, a hungry, searing kiss that steals your breath, flings open your eyes and leaves you trembling.

Caleb’s hand slides slowly over the thin lace of your dress, fingertips barely grazing your skin at first, like he’s afraid to shatter fine china.

Then he presses more firmly, and his breath catches as he presses barely over the cool wetness between your legs.

“Fuck…” he whispers, voice rough and broken. “I can’t believe how wet you are.”

You moan softly, heat pooling low in your belly.

His fingers trace the slickness through the fabric, slow and reverent, before dipping beneath the edge, finally touching bare skin.

His lips brush your collarbone, then trail down to your shoulder as his other hand tightens possessively around your waist.

You slip your hand under his waistband, fingers curling around the hardness you feel there, already aching and ready.

Caleb groans into your skin, the sound raw and desperate.

“God, you feel so good,” he pants, voice trembling like he’s holding back a flood.

Your hand presses harder, teasing, stroking beneath the fabric as his mouth finds yours again, a fierce, claiming kiss that leaves you breathless.

His fingers move with growing urgency, slick and warm, while you feel the pull of his desire against your palm.

“I need you…” he whispers, voice cracking. “So fucking much.”

Your breath catches as Caleb grinds against your palm, the heat between you two rising like a fever.

“Then take me,” you whisper, lips brushing his ear. “You’ve already had my mind… you've seen everything… all that’s left is this anyway...”

He groans, deep in his chest — an almost broken sound — and his hands are suddenly everywhere. Tugging the lace straps off your shoulders. Smoothing down your sides. Lifting your thighs around his waist like it’s instinct.

The dress is gone before you can think to miss it. Your skin prickles under his hungry gaze. His purple galaxy eyes track every inch of you, reverent and starving, like he’s still trying to memorize what he already knows too well.

“Say it again,” he breathes. “Tell me this is real.”

You pull him down, lips brushing his jaw. “I want you, Caleb. I want you to fuck me... s'bad...”

His name on your tongue, your filthy begging... it wrecks him. His mouth crashes onto yours in a kiss that’s rougher than the first — all teeth and need, hands fumbling to free himself from his jeans, movements clumsy with urgency.

You help him — tugging, shifting — until you both breathe against each other in nothing but skin. He’s thick and heavy in your hand, leaking, twitching, hot against your stomach as he leans into you.

“Waited so long,” he mutters against your mouth. “Wanted this for so fucking long.”

He pushes in slow.

You both gasp — not just from the stretch, but the weight of it. Of everything. The phone calls. The recordings. The years of silence between every almost-touch.

Your nails dig into his back, anchoring yourself as he sinks deeper. He's so so big, stretching you more than you thought possible. His forehead presses to yours, brows knit like it hurts to hold back.

“Tell me it’s okay,” he pants.

“It’s better than okay,” you whisper, "but— can't believe... it's only half... so big..."

Caleb groans — a raw, strangled sound — and buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and shaking against your skin.

“Don’t say that,” he rasps, voice breaking. “You’ll make me lose it.”

You tighten your legs around him, heels digging into the backs of his thighs, trying to pull him deeper. “Then lose it,” you whisper. “Try deeper, I can take you.”

He swears under his breath, one hand bracing against the mattress, the other gripping your hip so tight you feel the imprint of his fingers. He moves again — slow, deeper — and your breath catches, head falling back against the pillows.

“Oh God, Caleb…”

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moans, voice wrecked. “So wet for me... so tight... Can’t believe I’m finally inside you.”

You can't speak. You can only cling to him, breath ragged, as he rocks into you, hips rolling with a need so palpable it feels like it vibrates in the air around you.

The pace builds. Every slow careful thrust pushes more of him inside until he’s fully seated, flush against you, filling you so deep it borders on unbearable.

You’re shaking, overwhelmed. “Caleb, I—”

“I know,” he breathes, kissing your cheek, your jaw, your lips. “I know, baby. I’ve got you.”

He moves with more urgency now...

“I used to dream about this,” he admits between thrusts. “Used to jerk off thinking about how you’d feel… how you’d sound…”

Your moan answers him, involuntary and breathless.

“…but nothing — nothing — came close... to this.”

You arch beneath him, one hand tangling in his hair, the other scratching down his back as you moan from your gut, as your walls flutter around him.

His voice splinters. “Shit, pips—don't... don’t do that—I'm close…”

“Don't be silly. You don’t have to hold back” you whisper, eyes glassy, lips trembling. “Just come with me... don't keep it from me, Caleb~”

He groans like it tears him open. His rhythm stutters — then sharpens. Desperate. Perfect. Your body wraps tight around him, pulsing with the promise of release.

“Say my name like that... when it feels good,” he begs. “Lemme hear who's turned you into a slut like this…”

“Caleb...” Your chest bounces as he pounds into you, your voice barely more than a gasp, breathless and shy...

Again. He ruts into you with a moan of his own.

“Caleb—!”

You break. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, blinding and hot, pulling a choked cry from your throat as you lock around him, gripping him so tight it pushes him over the edge.

He follows with a broken sound, pulling out in a frantic rush as he spills all over your stomach, breath caught in his throat. He whines with his face pressed to yours while he grinds his cock onto your stomach, milking every last drop over you. His whole body trembles. You feel every twitch, every pulse, every ounce of need poured onto you.

Silence stretches.

Only your mingled breathing fills the room, quiet and heavy, shaky too.

Your breath shudders when he kisses you. "Thank you," you manage.

He laughs into your mouth, like you're silly for even thinking to say it.

“Next time… lemme just watch you, okay, pretty? Okay. You can cum as much as you want watching me edge this big stupid cock for you.” He whispers his filth in your jaw, hot calloused hand spreading across your torso.

You gasp, shaking your head as you blush at his straight forward dirty mouth.

“You're so... dirty, Caleb.” You whisper, steadying your index finger down his top and bottom lip.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers against your finger, sounding somehow like the world's most unsorry puppy. And honestly, his gaze looks at you similarly. “I can always... take it back…” he kisses your finger as you move to straddle him, ignoring the mess.

“No... no, you can't...”

You whine, dramatically, a quiet muttering between kisses that linger against his lips—soft kiss after soft kiss. He pretends not to melt under each one.

“C'mon, talk to me more, Cay… I'm not done...”

🏷 taglist 🐇🍎: @sylvieisoffline @mylifedoesntexist , @crowskitten22 , @etsuniiru, @asiatic-apple, @starryeyed-apple

[blushofeve]

fahdurhood

[blushofeve]

Hooooked!

SYNOPSIS. Requested by anon ↳ ❝ [...PLEASEEE may I request the LADS guys getting so lost in the sauce that they don’t realize that they forgot to put on a condom until it’s too late and then they see the evidence coming out 🫠] ¡! ❞

A/N; MAMA IS BACK! Finallyyyyy got this out now. And yes, did husband!zayne again. I'm a sucker for him sue me. Next up on the list are some more requests I'm working on. Enjoy my sweet darlings mwah <33

TAGS. NSFW /DARK CONTENT! MDNI! unprotected intercourse(duh). implied dubcon/manipulation. püssydrunk guys. size k!nk. breed!ng. dirty talk. nicknames. overstim in xav's. kinda subby/desperate xavier. tipsy!zayne. husband!zayne. Zayne's actually loosing it lmao. mention of kids in Zayne's. tummy buldge. overstim on reader. kinda brattamer!caleb. possesive caleb. praise.

RAFAYEL ★ Pound first, think later. ~ 1.3k

Plap! plap! plap!

There's just a low hum of low, sultry music playing from a speaker in the corner, but even that is drowned out by the slick, obscene sounds of Rafayel's hips slamming into yours.

"Raf—con— nghhh! condom," your gaspy voice catches, half-mangled between the ruthless crush of his mouth on yours, barely getting your words out.

He swallows most of it with a kiss so deep it knocks your breath loose, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before his tongue slides back in, wet muscle eagely tangling with yours.

And no, he didn't reach for a condom. Didn't even spare a glance toward the bedside drawer.

He's not even thinking. Not with his head, anyway. Not when every inhale he takes is laced with your sweet addicting scent and every exhale of his a hungry growl against your lips.

He's too far gone. Too drunk on your taste, the slight stutter in your voice, your—

He slips out again— cock slick and twitching against your folds, grinding the fat, leaking crown against your clit with such blunt pressure that your spine jerks up off the mattress, a wrecked cry slipping from your throat.

"F-fuck, no, nonono—" he pants, eyes wide in panic and breathless as he grips your hips harder, dragging you back toward him, aligning himself right back at your clenching hole.

Oh, that nasty clench of your feisty pussy almost made him burst his load right into—

Wait. He can't.

"Shhhh, cutie," he slurs, pupils blown wide as he pushes the thick head back to your entrance, spreading your shaking legs even further apart, "don't gotta break that pretty little mind thinkin' about it. Just let me— fuckkkk, cutie—"

Poor, poor Rafayel.

He just wants to feel you a little longer, wants to scrape your cervix for just a minute longer, dwell in the feeling of your warm cunny before he pulls out.

"P-promise I'll pull out, just a little longer, then m' gonna get the—" Right then he halts his breath, hands griping a smacking handful of your thighs, firmly pushing them apart to gawk at your sobbing cunt, desperatly clenching just around his tip, threatening to suck him in deeper, "—condom."

Yeah, right.

The thick, bulking head of his cock pushes back past your folds, spreaaading them like the red sea, so slow and calculated, just enough to stretch you wide at the tip and make your breath seize in your lungs.

"Can't you feel it? P-pleaseee cutie," whispers, grinding his hips in circles to smear himself all over your entrance, teasing your greedy cunny as it twitches and grips around his mushroomy head. "Feels good, yeah? You feel it, right? Riiiight? C-c'mon... Gonna make you cum reallll good."

He doesn't let you answer, let alone let out a sound before his lips are back on yours, lewd sounds of tongues clashing and teeth smacking almost drowning out the loud smack smack smacking of his firm hips against your plush thighs.

Almost.

Shallow, greedy thrusts follow, punching your sweet spot with such precision it makes your eyes roll back and mouth fall agape, granting him further entrance into your mouth.

He's going to eat you alive at this point.

His hunger is almost unbearable at this point and you keen beneath him, back arching clear off the sheets, legs twitching, threatening to tremble as you suck your tummy in.

Actually, they already do.

"Just—just wanna feel you. Need it, baby." His voice is ragged, like he's barely holding himself together. "Can't wait. Can't—fuck, I need you."

And he's mere seconds away from snapping, sanity holding onto a tiny threat so thin, it might aswell already have snapped in two.

Doin' so good, sweetheart." he groans, thick girth diving into your depths, knocking at your g-spot like it's a headshot to a wanted target over and over again, your fluttering cunt screaming out obscene sound after sound. "Taking me so well—s-shiiiiit!— 'm not gonna last. You feel unreal. Fuckin' unreal, baby."

His rhythm stutters for just a second, his body betraying him, and that's when it starts to crack.

That's when he starts to crack.

You feel the shift, feel the snap in him. His thrusts falter, not from weakness but from overload, the pleasure starting to short-circuit his brain.

His breath comes in harsh, quick gasps, chest heaving as his muscles tremble with the strain of keeping himself steady. His cock pulses deep inside you, wide and twitching like he's right on the edge, trying to stave it off, trying to hold on, but he's already gone too far.

"Raf, baby. Don't forget the— nghhhh! C-condom!" you rush out followed by a moan from the depth of your throat, his head already in the crook of your neck, plastering it with kisses and maybe even an accidental bite to your nape.

Right, there was still something.

He lifts his head, eyes wide as realization hits him— but he knows he's not going to pull out any time soon.

Because he physically can't.

And fuck, his pitiful expression alone is enough to make your pussy clench like a vice around him, wrench, wrench, wrenching him like your life depends on it, so close to the edge yourself.

That coral gaze burns straight through you, so blazing and ravenous, dripping with heat and panic searching for something behind your glazed iris.

"T-tight fuckin' thing. So damn tight. Gonna cum, yeah?"

It's lust stripped down to its bare bones— his pupils blown, rimmed with color like sunset bleeding into dusk, and the way he looks at you, like you're his last meal.

He's close. And it's scaring him. Wrecking him.

Voice low and shredded now, soaked with pleasure and darker things, almost broken with how badly he wants to cum—wants to cum in you.

"You don't even know what your fuckin' cunny is doing ta' me, cutie," he rasps, fucking into you harder now, deeper, angling up to punch that sweet spot with every desperate thrust.

But you do. Oh, you do.

Hips snapping against you like he's chasing something he'll never reach, and he plants one hand against the headboard to keep himself upright, shaking all over, barely holding on. The other is locked tight on your thigh, hiking it up towards your shoulder, keeping you locked in place. Like if you so much as tried to move away, rob him from your snug tunnel, he'd lose it.

"Drivin' me fucking insane," he growls, voice cracked open and fucked-out.

Your brain stutters mid-thrust—just enough clarity to gasp out, voice high and shaky, "Wait—hnghhh! Raf', you gotta—"

"Hahhh? Gotta make my pretty baby cum?"

Now he's tasting his release at the tip of his tongue, completely lost and utterly mad from the sound of your clenching pussy alone, balls tightening up, tip ready to burst his load out. "Yeahhhhh, ya got it, baby."

"Mhmm! M' c-cummin', Raf'! Fuh-fuckkkk!"

A cry tears from your throat on cue as your body clamps down, your legs trembling, thighs shacking as a violent orgasm tears through you, every fiber of your being burning hot as your vision goes blank and you forget every scolding thought you had in your mind.

He pauses for half a second before he begins to pound you again, steadier now, dedicated even, both veiny hands firmly folding you into a meanacing mating-press.

"You got it, all of it. Yes, cream 'round me js' like that— Yesyeseyes— fuckkkk baby m' sorry m'—"

He's not.

His balls draw up tight, cock swelling deep inside you with that final, desperate pulse.

Then he bursts. Hot, thick ropes of cum spill straight into your cunt, gushing right up against your cervix.

It's too much—sticky and endless, flooding you full until it's leaking out around him in messy drips, your body milking every last drop like it needs it.

And then his eyes snap up to yours, wide, in a daze.

"Babyyyyy—I didn't— was going to, I meant to—"

But his hips twitch forward again. He can't help it.

He can't help but slip out out and watch the aftermath in awe, watch his cum overflowing your overstimulated cunt as you deserately try to keep it all in, droplets drip drip dripping down the curve of your ass.

"Y-you made a whole big mess, Raf'! I told you to—"

The words die on your tongue the second you catch his face—flushed, lips parted, eyes glowing that deep coral pink and brimming with guilt and hunger. Wrecked. Maybe even a tiny bit sorry.

"C-can I make it up to you by eating it outta ya?"

ZAYNE ⋆ ★ Can't Wait. ~1.2k

Zayne's a lightweight. Always has been.

It shows, too. In the flushed pink blooming across his cheeks, the tips of his ears going all red like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't.

Your sweet husband's never been good at hiding how much he wants you. But when there's just the tiniest bit of liquor in his system? A little heat in his blood, a little buzz under his skin?

Then he's shameless. Dangerous, even.

That black button-up from your night out is hanging off his shoulders, halfway undone, unbothered to fix it, wanting you to notice. His wedding band clinks against your waist as his hands roam your hips, fumbling for the strap on your shoulder to greedily expose your perky tits.

Eyes locked on you— the only thing his eyes are trained on.

"You looked so hot all night," he mumbles against your neck, voice syrupy, breath reeking of a faint liquor and sin, "All dolled up, just for your husband, hm?"

Once your back hits the front door from the inside as soon as he closed it, he kisses you with such a feverous hunger, so clumsily sloppy.

Teeth and tongue and all heat, hands pawing at your now exposed tits, then thighs as his mouth sinks to catch your stiff nipple.

"Zayne, what's gotten into y—"

"You."

His thigh shoves between yours, grinding up until you're letting out an embarrassed squeak, one of your legs hitching up around his hip as he urges you to swing the other around to, carrying you to the next best surface— the kitchen counter— in a hurry.

"It's alllll you, darling." His words are muffled against your skin, his hands eagerly riding up your breathtaking dress to snake his fingers into your soaked through panties. "My pretty little wife makes me lose my head, you know. Can barely recognize myself."

"Zayne, baby," you try, breathless, tugging at the back of his collar to catch his attention to your face. "Sure it's not just the alcohol? Maybe we should get to bed, the condoms are also there—"

"S-shhhh", he slurs, glasses nearly slipping down the bridge of his nose as he hovers over you, "Is it a crime to worship my wife for a little while?"

In this case, it should be. Because whatever this is, it's torture.

His fingers fumble with his belt, all cocky and tipsy as he palms himself through his boxers. The fabric's soaked where his cock's been leaking all night, a fat wet spot darkening the white cotton. He's been hard since the moment you stepped out for that restaurant you've been wanting to go for ages now, thick, angry red crown twitching on his hand.

You whine in protest until your panties are torn and tossed onto the floor, his cock already smearing it's pre across your slick folds. "Just a second, Mmm-hmmm, then we'll go to bed and— f-fuckkk."

Yeah, he messed up.

"G-go to bed and I'll get the c-condom. Juuuuust a second, darlin'."

He trails off when his hand yanks your panties to the side, then off entirely, a quick, lazy tear splitting the seam as he tosses the ruined scrap onto the floor behind him.

That second becomes two. Then five.

Then he's already carrying you toward the couch, tripping over a thing or two, lips never leaving yours. One knee hits the cushion, then the next, and you fall with him, laughing into his mouth until it turns into a gasp, because his rigid length is already poking at your clenching hole, bulky cockhead pushhhhing past it.

His lips trail down your throat, mouthing at your pulse, siver wedding ring cold where it squeezes your tit, making you hiss as it catches onto your nipple.

At this point, you don't think he'll be able to—

"Can't wait,"

Ah.

"I won't go all the way but please, I don't think you understand, darling," he's a panting mess, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, glasses askew. His hips stutter between your thighs, cock heavy and leaking as he rocks through your folds, sometimes pushing the tip into your quivering pussy, "I need to feel you around me right now."

"Oh-okay. But you gotta promise, Zayne."

"Yeah, yeah— Ohhh, what sweet, pretty pussy my darling wife has on her."

Oh, and your husband's also a terrible liar.

Because the second the words leave your mouth, he's already in, squelch squelch squelching sounds echoing as he plumbs your weak hole full of his hefty length.

His hips jerk, sloppy and desperate, punching his cock deeper with every thrust. That thick, angry swell at the base catches on your entrance, making you jolt, back arching off the couch as he bullies past your clenching walls.

He moans into your shoulder, cock twitching as your cunt clamps down like a vice. It's too much. Too tight. Too good and he's wondering if he's actually drunk.

Yeah, he's drunk on your pussy. Gone.

"You're—hahhh— toooo good to me," he whimpers, teeth grit, face buried in your neck, glasses hanging onto a thread. "Too good— sooo good, baby."

You keen, legs wrapping around his waist instinctively as thick veins draaaaag along your walls and paint them with every twitch of his slit, eyes rolling, mouth slack, hips grinding into yours, roughly against your clit like he's a goddamn mutt.

"Zayne? Your glasses, darling—hnghhh!—t-they're gonna break on the floor."

"Fuck that shit."

His language is filthy, not caring about his glasses falling off and onto the floor, not caring about anything but your crying pussy gushing around him each time he hits your cervix.

"I don't give a shit, sweetheart," voice coming out as a snarl, pace roughening, cock battering your g-spot with every brutal stroke of his. "Not when your pussy's this—hahhh—fuckin' heavenly."

Your nails scrape down his back as he pounds into you, rougher now, like he's trying to fuck every thought right out of your head.

And honestly? You're not far off.

Panting heavy, he's biting your shoulder, hips snapping into you with eagerness so reckless you can feel his hot slick crown damn near in your womb.

His eyes are glassy, mouth hanging open as he watches the way your greedy pussy takes him so well and with such shameless need, he swears he can hear her cry for more.

"Pussy's so fuckin' good— shiiiit!" he slurs, obviously drunk off more than just booze by now. "Can't think straight, c-can't—fuh-fuckkk!— M' gonna cum, darlin'—"

"Z-Zayne! The fuckin' c-con— nghhh! Don't stop, don't—"

Forceful orgasm cutting your words off as you become a squirting mess, clamping and clawing at his base as he continues his assault on your poor, overstimulated cunny, juices spraying everywhere.

"Justttt like that, darlin', mhmmm. G-gonna fill my pretty wife up, have you all round and glowing, yeah?" he spurts out, slamming into you one final time then freezes, cock buried to the hilt as he floods you with his whispy spurts of cum. Thick, hot ropes paint your insides white, dripping out the second he pulses again.

His whole body trembles, arms giving out as he collapses on top of you, still twitching deep inside.

He tries to pull out—he really does—but the second his eyes land on your stuffed tummy, his eyes roll to the back of his head, hips already rutting back against you again.

"Ohhh my darling wife", he hums, nose buried in the crook of your sweat-slicked neck, drowning in your scent. He inhales deep, moaning like he's high off it, and that's when you realize, truly realize, just how far gone he is.

How drunk. How pussy-drunk. You-drunk.

His cock grinds even deeper, rutting into the deepest, most tender part of you as he whispers filth into your skin.

"Think it's time to consider a baby, hm?"

XAVIER ★ Pull out game... nonexistent? ~1.1k

"D-don't forget to pull out, 'kay?"

Your voice is light, barely a breath as you throw a look over your shoulder, eyes glinting with a warning that's too soft to land.

Xavier's already doomed. You both know it.

And he's already regretting everything.

Not you. Just the lazy-ass promise he made two minutes ago, when his morning wood was grinding slow and warm against your ass, and he was too blissed out on his day off to reach for a condom.

'Just a quick feel', he muttered in his grumpy morning voice, 'Gonna pull out. I promise', he said.

Even he didn't believe himself when he said it.

Now buried in you to the hilt, and the second your cunt sucked him in, wet and hungry and tight as sin, he knew he wasn't going to make it.

And it's his own damn fault.

You clench around him greedily, milking him already, and his breath punches out in a curse. He knows he should pull out. He told you he would. But all he can think about is how good you feel, how wet you are, how your cunt keeps sucking him deeper like you want him to stay.

"S-shitttt," he groans, forehead pressed to the back of your shoulder, hips twitching helplessly. "I'm—shit— I dunno, angel."

"Then get a condom, Xav'. It's alright if you can't handle it." And you're so cruel, saying it as a purr, clenching hard around his cock right as he's trying to pull back, locking him in place with your feisty cunt, strangling not only his cock, but also his ego.

A frustrated grunt rumbles from his throat because you know damn well he won't.

Get out of this? Out of you? And physically stand up?

Yeah. Over his dead fucking body.

"N-noooo—" he whines, arms trembling beside your body as he sinks back in deeper, grinding slow like he needs it more than oxygen. "I can take it, I swear— promise, angel. J-just don't make me leave."

"Oh-okay, Xav'," you moan, draaaagging it out with a long and mean breath as his swollen head knock knock knocks against the entrance of your womb, "Just keep g-going—ohhh yesss! Right there—!"

Violent shiver running through his body, cock twitching deep. The slit's drooling now, spilling steady heat into your cunt in thick little pulses, leaking.

"Shit, angel, d-don't say it like that," he pants, rutting into you now with slow, needy thrusts, teeth gritted. "You're making it so fucking hard to be good— so fucking hard—"

His teeth grit, breath catching in his throat, a stifled groan dragging up from somewhere deep in his chest as he tries to keep the rhythm steady. But he's failing badly.

Thrusts getting messier now, still slow, but shaky, cock twitching with every stroke because his body knows what's coming, building and building no matter how hard he fights it.

And to be honest, he's not even trying to fight the storm coming.

Not when you clamp down on him, a hicup fleeing past your lips as you feel every ridged vein adoring his pulsating dick.

"P-princessss, need to feel you cumming 'round me," he whines, long and runny tone causing your clit to pulsate, his fingers already finding comfort on the abandoned button, "Gonna be the death of me— gonna k-kill me with this pussy."

And yet his hips keep rocking into you, slam slam slam— sooo deep you can barely think straight. Deeper now. Harder.

Because if he's going down, he's taking you with him.

You're a gasping mess as you cum around him, sobbing on every thrust, thighs shaking, nails clawing back at his scalp as he fucks you through your orgasm, pussy spurting juices all over the base of his cock.

"Nnnngh!—you're so messy, Xav'," you croon, rocking back to take him even deeper, riding out your high, grinding your ass against his hips until his cock reaches that spot inside you, creating a buldge at your lower belly, "J-just give up—"

Right then, you hear it in his voice when he cracks.

"F-fuck no."

He fucking whimpers, cock throbbing violently as he stays buried inside you, his tip drooling more sticky pre that seeps out with every grind.

"Fuck—fuckfuckfuck—quit— squeezin' me like that— I can't—!"

But his words betray his body since his cock slams into your deepest spot with every stroke, the wet slap slap slapping of skin filling the clouded room, making your overstimulated cunt cry out.

"Then pull out," you bite, tilting your head back with the last strength you muster to look at him, eyes daringly sinful.

Wait. Waitwaitwait—

His eyes are glassy. Lips parted. Chest heaving.

"I—I can't, angel," he whines, voice all breath and heat, hips grinding in deeper even as he says it. "You're too mean—fuckkkk—milkin' me dryyyyy— h-hahhhh!—Can't even think—"

You feel the way his rhythm goes ragged, his whole body locking up behind you. He's fighting it, really fighting it, his muscles shaking, jaw clenched, hips jerking in shallow, stuttering thrusts.

"G-gonna take it, right? C'mon, princess, Just this— hnghhhh!— once."

But his cock's twitching like mad. And his balls are mere seconds close to burst out a fresh, sticky load.

With a strangled cry his hips slam forward, cock buried as deep as he can possibly get, grinding in hard as he spills inside you, thick and hot and so much.

You feel his cum flooding your pussy in long, pulsing spurts, painting your walls, dripping out around the base of his cock and onto the tangled sheets as he whines into your skin, thrusting through it.

"Fuhh-ckkkk!" he moans, drawn-out and helpless, hips jerking with every spurt, every twitch. "'M so sorry—fuck, I tried— swearrrr I tried to—"

But he doesn't even bother finishing, not with the way your eyes cut over your shoulder like a blade before your fingers tangle tight in his messy hay-blonde hair and yank him down into a wet, filthy kiss that makes him whimper right into you.

Back arched into him, tongue tangling with his as you both chase the last euphoric waves of pleasure by grinding like wild mutts against each other.

"Mmnn... I know," you shakily whisper, light giggle following suit against his pouty lips, "Tried s-soooo hard, didn't you?"

And he nods like a lost puppy, breath stuttering as his glossy lips tremble once you cage them between your lips.

Your grinding back against his hips in a rhythm that makes his thighs tremble and his cock jolt again, squishing out more of that thick mess he just dumped in you.

Now that he fucked up, might aswell make the most of it, no?

"Mhmmm", he hums in a daze, cock already twitching back to life inside you, eager rutts against your ass causing the sticky mess inside you to flood out between your pressed thighs,

"One more try, yeah? G-gonna pull out this time."

Famous last words.

SYLUS ★ Alllll in. ~1k

"I'm a lucky man."

His mouth brushes your ear, breath hot as he groans, the words vibrating right against your skin. One big hand caresses the side of your throat while the other spreads your thigh wider, pressing you open.

"Mmmm-hmmm," he growls, voice rough, cock sliding between your drenched folds at an almost eratic pace. The heavy head keeps nudging your clit, slick and angry, "Very lucky indeed."

Choking on a moan, your back arches when the thick, leaking crown of his cock drags through your folds again, smearing slick and pre along your thumbing clit.

"Had a rough night. Deal went to shit," he murmurs, though his voice betrays him—strained, desperate, twitching against your hole like his cock has a mind of its own, "But my sweet princess'll help me out, right? Give me a little pep-talk?"

"Yeah, right. Since when are you so- nghhh!- so tame?"

"Since now," he pants, nudging the angry tip right into your squeaking hole, your pussy already locking his tip in a headlock, "Enjoy it while it lasts and let me in, sweetie. I won't move. Promise."

Lie. Big fat lie.

Narrow eyes of yours stare him down just as his lips curl into a cheeky, smirk, slowwwwly forcing his massive size to push your poor walls apart.

You're not even trying to squeeze him, but your cunt is already fluttering around him, soaking wet from how pent-up he is. Gripping your waist with an iron-clad hold, trying so damn hard to stay still, but every twitch of your walls makes him flinch, throb.

It's impossible.

Now he's already bullying his way through your wails and shrieks, halfway in, dragging your pussy open inch by massive fucking inch, because he's trying so hard not to ruin you on the spot and pump you full of—

Wait. There's something... off. Something missing.

"Shoooo big, Sy'! Can't—hahhh!— I can't! M' so full!"

Maybe it's just in his head.

You shudder, overwhelmed by heat and stretch and the gush of pre smearing your walls.

Right then your orgasm hits hard, embarrassingly fast, dragging another cry from your lips as your pussy clenches around his cock again, pulling more grunts from his mouth.

You're already fucked-out, hips buck again greedily, stretch dizzying, walls clamping down with gluttonous need, and his breath catches with a hard shudder. Thighs locking tighter around his waist, holding him in, dragging him deeper.

Minutes tick by, or seconds, he can't tell, until his hips start to rock in tiny, traitorous movements.

Your cry cuts off into a gasp as his hips find a brutal rhythm, heavy balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. Every ridge, every vein drags inside you, scraping his memoir into your walls.

God, he could die like this.

Eyes rolling, cock buried balls-deep in the warm clutch of your cunt, so moist and snug and just a little too cramped, your selfish cunny milking him for everything he's worth. Drowning in your whimpers, in the slap of slick skin, in the way your hands claw up his back for more.

It's perfect. Too perfect. Too bare.

Wait.

Wait—oh fuck.

He goes still mid-thrust, chest heaving, eyes wide and glossy as it hits him that he never put on the damn condom.

"Shit."

"Hmmm? Something wrong, Sy'?"

He's the Sylus, goddamnit. The ruler of the underground. But not here. Not when you're wrapped around him like this. Not when you're so hot, so loud, so feisty, and dripping down his length every time he pulls back just to thrust in again.

"Fuck's sake," he grits out, face buried in your neck like he's ashamed of himself, voice nearly unrecognizable. "I should—mmmh—I need to pull out."

But he doesn't. Can't. Not when your cunt squeezes him like velvet vice, not when your arms wind tighter around his neck and your hips grind up like you want him to ruin you.

"Hmm? What's that? C-can't focus when youhhh— ohhh!— in sooo deep, baby."

"Mhmmm, couldn't even get a condom because you're such a bratty little thing," he groans, voice going hoarse as he thrusts his fat tip right against your cervix with one forceful rut, barely holding on, "She's pulling me in, sweetie."

The bed rocks under the force of his shots, every sharp roll of his hips knocking the air from your lungs. The obscene, filthy sounds of your bodies say everything needing to be said.

"Whose fault is that, darling?" he grits out through clenched teeth, dragging his hands up your ribs to cup your face.

Fake it till you make it, I guess.

"Mhm! My fault, s' my fault Sy'!," you stammer, eyes glassy, mind running a thousand miles as he knocks your breath out again and again and—

"Now that's right," he huffs, forehead pressed against yours, a whimper catching in his throat as he eyes the heavy buldge at the pit of your tummy, "That's my good girl. Gonna let me cum inside, hm? Fill you up?"

"Mhmmm! Wanna feel it, allll of it Sy! Make me a m-mommy!"

Now you've done it.

Sylus's eyes roll back, face flushed, sweat pearling at his temple. He's trembling, so fucking close.

He's cumming before his mind even catches up, hips stuttering, breath leaving from his lungs as his body clamps against yours. A broken groan rips from his throat as he spurts buckets of pearly white cum into your womb, rutting in deep to make sure you take all of it.

"S-shit, sweetie," he hisses, forehead dropping to yours, ruby eyes blown wide and dazed, "feels good, hmm?"

You can't answer. Clenching, twitching, overwhelmed tears brimming at the corners of your eyes from how deep he hits without even moving, some of his cum escaping down the curve of your ass.

Pressing a weak, sloppy open-mouthed-kiss to his temple, your heart's hammering as the slow pulse of his cum inside you makes you more excited by the second, unconciously humbing up into him.

"A-again. Want you to fill me up again, Sy'."

"Again, huh? Now you're being greedy, sweetheart." He punctuates it with a sharp thrust, one that makes your whole body jolt, makes you yelp, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Whatever my sweet girl wants", he ushers against your puckered lips, dick twitching inside your cramped cunny, "she'll get."

Well, once you have tasted blood, you'll always want more.

CALEB ★ Home sweet home. ~1.2k

"W-what?"

"Condom, Cay'."

"Y-yeah right, condom. Gotta get it. Gotta—"

You're cruel. So very cruel.

Tangled together on the bed, your bodies slick with sweat, breaths rapid. Caleb's fingers dig into your hips as you impatiently grind your slick, exposed cunny over his stiff length, dragging it up right against his tip.

"Mhhh, hurryyyy! Wanna feel you already!"

Right then a fat bead of pre spurts from his slit, kissing your clit with a shining glee and you damn near sob, biting down hard on your bottom lip to stop the filthy little sound clawing up your throat.

"One sec' pips'. Just one second, m' gonna get it— fuck!"

He tries. He tries to lift you off, shaky hands fumbling at your waist.

"Just pull out and stop. t-talking."

But it's you who slid down on his tip, thighs slapping against his as you take him in to the hilt in one greedy push, his hefty girth streeeetching your out instantly, a loud squeak! resounding as his crown thumbs against your cervix.

Or did he drag you down, fists clenched tight around your waist?

Actually, it doesn't even matter anymore.

"Jesus Christ, baby," he groans, voice so thick with lust it's barely human anymore. "L-lemme get it, m' gonna—"

His voice cracks, almost a panic as his hands tighten on your waist, trembling, begging you to just slow down with each twitch of his fingers, cock twitching inside you since he's already right on his fucking limit.

He tries again. Hands push at your hips, trembling, uncoordinated, unable to decide if he wants to get you off him or fuck up into you on repeat.

"Wait—just lemme grab it, baby, j-just for a seco—"

"O-ohhh! I don't care anymore!" Your high-pitched tantrum throws him off, your hips grinding doen hard onto him in a hurry, so needy and shameless that he can't help but buck his hips upwards, stealing a pleased sigh from you.

You drop your hips again, soaked pussy swallowing him whole, strangling his pumping length and that's it. That's fucking it.

"Fuckin' hell," suddenly his grip turns firm, fingers digging into your flesh, forcing you down with a loud slap! of skin to skin. "Really? Ya' don't care anymore? Really want me ta' beat this pussy up?"

SLAP!

His hands slam down onto your ass, big palms grabbing, spreading, slapping, the poor flesh turning red on impact. And you jolt in his hold, clit thumb thumb thumbing like it has it's own heartbeat.

"Shit! Yer' fuckin'—nghhh!— gonna make me lose it," he pants, snapping his hips up into you dwelling in the suffocating hold of your soothing walls. "Ya' like that? Like ridin' me raw? Knocking this greedy pussy up? "

Desperate nod saying more than words could, you bounce up and down, up and down, tight pussy fixed around him, screaming in protest every time you surge up with loud, protesting gush gush gushes.

"Dirty fuckin' girl."

He grabs your ass again, harder this time, fingers sinking in, dragging you down with each thrust, eyes fixated on the delicious buldge of his fat cockhead bump bump bumping in your gut.

"Couldn't even wait, huh? Had ta' sit on my cock like the needy girl ya' are. Didn't even let me grab the fuh-fuckin'— shiiiiit!—"

Smack!

Another harsh slap ripples the fat of your rear, sharp but yet so perfect, the sting making you moan out, embarrasingly so, only further making your walls constrict around his hefty girth.

"Ya' want me to lose it, hah? Wanna make me forget everything but this feisty lil' pussy?"

You nod, nails dragging down his back. "Yessss! Pleaseeeee! Wan' you to fuck me stupid! Wanna c-cum!"

Forehead pressed to yours, he's fucking up into you with vicious intend, "Yeahhhh, yer' gonna get it. Gonna make you cum so gooood, pips' Js' let go f' me, yeah?"

And just like that, you break apart, body feeling like it's been lit on fire as you twitch around him uncontrollably, gushing your squirting sap alllll over his pelvic area.

"A-attaaaaa girl", he's watching you come undone, gripping your hips tight enough to bruise as he fucks you through your high, staring down at the mess you made in awe.

You're both drenched in it.

"What a beautiful mess," he pants, still pistoning his cock right against your g-spot, dragging your orgasm out. "Look at that pretty pussy squirtin' allll over me."

He's a pussy-drunk mess by now, cock still hard and throbbing inside your overstimulated cunt as she eagerly milks his cock, desperate for him to fill you up with his hot cum.

"Fuckkkk, I missed this. Missed you, this sweet little cunt, squeezin' 'round me. It's been sooo long."

You're panting now, still in shock from your orgasm, hips rocking against his, "B-but, Cay' we just did it y-yesterday—"

"That's wayyyy to long f' me."

You're whining, squirming in his lap, but he just has a crazed look, hungry, bucking his hips up, teasing the entrance of your womb with smooches.

He leans back slightly one hand gripping your ass, the other spreading you open so he can observe your stuffed cunny struggling to hold him in.

"Look at ya'," he mutters, half in awe, half in madness, "Gonna stuff ya' full till yer' leaking 'round me, till all you can think about is me, me, me—"

So close to his own wit's end, he's doing his best to focus on the delicious squelch of your stuttering pussy, heavy, fast breaths barely calming his racing heart down.

"God, you feel so good," he rasps, breath hitching. "So warm, so wet, 'm gonna cum, baby. Gonna fill you up."

You're clawing at his shoulders now, legs buckling as you feel your second high approching slyly. Every thrust sounds wetter than the last, his balls slapping your ass with every rushed snap of his hips.

Your moans are getting higher. His pace is getting sloppy. He's right there.

"No condom, no nothin'," he murmurs, forehead pressing against yours as he slowly, slowly inches the fat head inside, your walls stretching around him like they were made to take him bare. "You’re just gonna fuck me raw like this, huh? Gonna stuff you full till you're leaking around me, till all you can think about is me, me, me—"

He inches the fat head back in again, and your walls stretch, trembling, sucking him in until—

"Yesyesyes— fuckkk!—"

Your cry breaks into a sob as your body locks up around him. Caleb barely gets a breath before he's falling with you, mouth hanging slack as his hips jerk once, twice, and then he spills his thick load of fresh whites into you.

"Ooouhhhh! Cay-caleb!"

You sob, cunt spasming, milking him through it as your second orgasm rips through you, so intense your thighs shake, whole body shuddering in his lap, falling onto his sweaty, heaving chest.

"You're so fuckin' hot."

He's dazed, cock still twitching, slit spurting out the last wispy ropes inside you while his cum leaks out around the base in sticky dribbles, his locked gaze snapping up to your flustered face, sleazy grin twitching up his lips.

"Think m' addicted now."

Pff. As if he wasn't already whipped the second you climbed into his lap.

©︎𝙎𝘼𝙏𝙍𝙎 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!

[blushofeve]

sasuke x reader

c/w: 18+ slightly suggestive

a/n: I love this sad emo sm. this was a test to see if i could write him properly without getting to ooc so its super short.

m.list | taglist | ao3

Dividers credit: @cafekitsune

You two had never gotten along. So it was devastating news when you were informed that the two of you had been paired together for a mission. No one else was free to take it but you, apparently.

It was supposed to be a simple night. Come over to his house, start planning for tomorrow's mission, and leave. Simple, right? Apparently not.

You should've known, though. Nothing is ever simple when it comes to Sasuke Uchiha.

It started with little comments. His snide remarks getting under your skin. "I think we should use this route instead," pointing out a highlighted path on the map.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “That’s the longer route.”

"But safer," he countered, leaning back with that infuriating calmness he always wore like armour. “Unless you’re hoping to run into more rogue shinobi.”

You rolled your eyes, muttering something about the stubborn Uchiha under your breath. Sasuke, of course, heard it. You just wanted to get this mission over and done with and never speak to him afterwards.

“I heard that,” he said, voice low but amused. His lips curled slightly—not quite a smirk, but enough to irritate you more than it should’ve. “You’re welcome to go the dangerous route alone, if you’re that confident.” He eyed you up and down. "But I doubt you could even hold out on your own."

Now, the most logical thing to do would be to leave and beg to be paired with someone else. You're sure someone else would be ready to come on short notice.

But you didn’t. Instead, you stayed, bickering over every detail until the map was forgotten between you, and tension filled the air like static. It was too quiet all of a sudden. His eyes, those sharp, dark eyes, were watching you closely now, too closely.

"What's your problem with me? You're so annoying and.. smug it's so.. ugh!" You threw your hands up in frustration. Sasuke smirked at your clear frustration and loss of words. His smug expression only served to infuriate you and, to your confusion, cause the butterflies in your stomach to flutter.

“You’re so difficult,” you muttered in surrender, standing to collect your belongings.

Sasuke stood too. Close. Too close. “I could say the same about you.”

You didn’t move. Neither did he.

You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, practically feel it leap into your throat, and almost jump into your mouth when, to both of your surprise, Sasuke leant down and placed an unexpectedly gentle kiss on your lips.

It surprised the two of you even more when you deepened the kiss, wrapped your arms around his neck and threaded your hand through his raven locs, pushing him closer to you. Sasuke did the same, hands placed on your waist, pulling you flush against him.

This wasn’t part of the mission planning. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Sasuke lifting you up and pressing you up against the wall, wrapping your legs around him, was not supposed to happen. This just complicates things.

But then again… nothing was ever simple with Sasuke Uchiha.

[blushofeve]

sasuke x reader

c/w: 18+ slightly suggestive

a/n: I love this sad emo sm. this was a test to see if i could write him properly without getting to ooc so its super short.

m.list | taglist | ao3

Dividers credit: @cafekitsune

You two had never gotten along. So it was devastating news when you were informed that the two of you had been paired together for a mission. No one else was free to take it but you, apparently.

It was supposed to be a simple night. Come over to his house, start planning for tomorrow's mission, and leave. Simple, right? Apparently not.

You should've known, though. Nothing is ever simple when it comes to Sasuke Uchiha.

It started with little comments. His snide remarks getting under your skin. "I think we should use this route instead," pointing out a highlighted path on the map.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “That’s the longer route.”

"But safer," he countered, leaning back with that infuriating calmness he always wore like armour. “Unless you’re hoping to run into more rogue shinobi.”

You rolled your eyes, muttering something about the stubborn Uchiha under your breath. Sasuke, of course, heard it. You just wanted to get this mission over and done with and never speak to him afterwards.

“I heard that,” he said, voice low but amused. His lips curled slightly—not quite a smirk, but enough to irritate you more than it should’ve. “You’re welcome to go the dangerous route alone, if you’re that confident.” He eyed you up and down. "But I doubt you could even hold out on your own."

Now, the most logical thing to do would be to leave and beg to be paired with someone else. You're sure someone else would be ready to come on short notice.

But you didn’t. Instead, you stayed, bickering over every detail until the map was forgotten between you, and tension filled the air like static. It was too quiet all of a sudden. His eyes, those sharp, dark eyes, were watching you closely now, too closely.

"What's your problem with me? You're so annoying and.. smug it's so.. ugh!" You threw your hands up in frustration. Sasuke smirked at your clear frustration and loss of words. His smug expression only served to infuriate you and, to your confusion, cause the butterflies in your stomach to flutter.

“You’re so difficult,” you muttered in surrender, standing to collect your belongings.

Sasuke stood too. Close. Too close. “I could say the same about you.”

You didn’t move. Neither did he.

You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, practically feel it leap into your throat, and almost jump into your mouth when, to both of your surprise, Sasuke leant down and placed an unexpectedly gentle kiss on your lips.

It surprised the two of you even more when you deepened the kiss, wrapped your arms around his neck and threaded your hand through his raven locs, pushing him closer to you. Sasuke did the same, hands placed on your waist, pulling you flush against him.

This wasn’t part of the mission planning. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Sasuke lifting you up and pressing you up against the wall, wrapping your legs around him, was not supposed to happen. This just complicates things.

But then again… nothing was ever simple with Sasuke Uchiha.

[blushofeve]

STARS + DOTS | pattern 04.

──────── ⵌ NEUTRALS ...

──────── ⵌ RAINBOW ...

here’s the inverse pattern of the other stars and dots divider. (((:

patterns : 001 / 002 / 003 / 004 / 005

feel free to use; please like, reblog, and credit〜

support me through ko-fi | more dividers →

[blushofeve]

So real

[blushofeve]

Mine

summary: you get kidnapped by a bunch of mercenaries that have it out for the farspace fleet and used you to get to Caleb

a/n: This was a request that I got on ao3, I decided to share it here. I'm not good at writing angst or intense situations so I hope this was okay lol

tags: @dummiebunny @mommymilkerssociety @slowburnmithy @itsmeaudrieee @cableswife @glitterykingdomangel @september-2121

m.list | taglist | ao3

Divider credits: @cafekitsune @stangergraphics

You were on your knees, a gun to your head. The cold muzzle pressed against your temple was a cruel reminder that one wrong move, and this was over. Caleb stood just meters away, barely restrained by two guards, jaw clenched tight enough to crack, a pulsing bruise blooming across his cheekbone. Blood ran down his brow. But his eyes, his eyes were locked on you.

How did even come to this? The last thing you remember was walking home, having completed another successful mission. Likon was once again safe from the threat of wanderers. The next thing you know, a rough hand yanked you backwards, and a cloth covered in a high concentration of chloroform covered your mouth. You struggled against your attacker for only a few minutes before the consequences of inhaling chloroform kicked in and your vision slowly faded to black. When you awoke, you were held inside a dark cell. Your captors introduced themselves as mercenaries who had it out for the Farspace fleet. After surveying them for a while, they concluded that you were the key to bringing them down, with how you and their famous colonel were so closely connected.

Caleb, upon noticing your disappearance, immediately tracked you down. For once, you had hoped that he hadn't cared about you as much and saved himself from walking into this mess. The sight of you chained like some animal set Caleb off. He lunged at the mercs, but he was outnumbered and ended up being held back himself.

“Let them go,” he snarled, voice low, deadly. “You want me? You have me. Just let them go.”

The mercs offered a deal: let you go in exchange for Caleb. He would give them any and all information about the fleet then they hey would kill him and infiltrate the fleet from there.

The leader, some bastard with too many scars and not enough soul, laughed behind you. You felt the pressure of his grip tighten at your jaw. “Aww, she’s got you wrapped around her little finger, doesn’t she, Colonel?” he jeered. “Cute. Information first, then she can go.” Caleb hesitated, looking impossibly helpless. The merc then turned to you: “Say goodbye, sweetheart.”

“No!” Caleb shouted, breaking free for half a second before a stun baton drove into his ribs. He dropped, gasping, but still, still he fought to get up. The merc laughed once again. "Caleb, please," you begged, "don't do it, it's fine, I'm not worth it. I'll be okay." “Aw, how sweet,” the man behind you hissed. “Say it. Tell him you’re ready to die for him. I want to hear it.”

“I’m not saying anything,” you spat, even as your heart thundered in your chest. But the merc just smirked. He shifted, adjusting his aim—this time, straight at Caleb. Your heart stopped. The moment his hand moved, you did what you never thought you would.

“No!” you cried. “Please, stop—don’t hurt him! I can tell you information about the fleet as well, just leave him alone. Just… just don’t hurt him.” The merc smiled, "Oh? Now, why didn't you say this earlier? It would've saved us a lot of time." You didn't know as much as Caleb, but they didn't know that. You just wanted to keep Caleb safe. This time it was you protecting him and not the other way around. You didn't want him to die protecting you, not again.

Caleb’s head jerked up. “Don’t say that,” he barked. “Don’t you dare—”

You turned to him, tears streaking your dust-covered cheeks.“I can’t,” you whispered, shaking your head. “I can’t say no… You’ll die.” And for a moment—just a moment—he looked broken. All the fury. All the desperation. Gone. Replaced with something far more terrifying. Fear. Not for himself. For you.

“Pips…” he choked. “Don’t do this. Please.”

Your lips trembled. “I’m sorry.”

And then the merc laughed. “Isn’t that sweet?” He cocked the gun. But that was his mistake. Because Caleb moved.

In a blur of pain and rage, he lunged. A flash. A shot. You screamed—but it wasn’t you who fell. The two other mercs were being crushed with the force of Caleb's evol. The leader had fired his gun, yes, but Caleb used his evol to redirect it and lodged it right in the centre of his skull. The merc’s grip loosened. The gun clattered to the floor.

You stumbled forward, free, spinning around just in time to see him collapse—eyes wide in shock, a single searing hole through his forehead. Caleb stood behind him, arm extended, evol still suppressing the others. Slowly, he bent down and picked up the fallen gun. The two remaining mercs, once smug and power drunk, whimpered in fear. Caleb strode over to them, his fear now channelled into rage. "Stupid vermin. Whatever made you think you could mess with me, and what's mine?" They only cowered in response. "You are going to pay for what you did. I'm not going to kill you, no. I'm going to leave you hurt, in ten times as much pain as you caused her."

Shots were fired. Cries ripped through the air.

The silence that followed was deafening.

The only sounds were your ragged breaths, the soft clatter of Caleb dropping the empty weapon, and the metallic drip… drip… drip of blood hitting the floor. You sat frozen, still on your knees, staring at him. Caleb stood there like a shadow of himself, shoulders heaving, face unreadable, knuckles smeared with blood. His evol pulsed faintly around his hands, the residual glow fading slowly.

He looked like a man who’d just stepped out of hell. And he nearly had. Without you, he would be in hell.

“Caleb…” Your voice came out cracked, hoarse. His head turned toward you sharply. And then all that fury, the wrath, the cold fire that had kept him upright—cracked. He rushed to you. Dropped to his knees. Pulled you into his arms so tightly you could barely breathe. His voice trembled against your hair. “I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re okay.” You clutched at his back, fists full of his uniform, needing to feel him, to know it was over. That he was really here. That you were alive. That he was alive. You tried to pull back, to check him for wounds, but he didn’t let go. Not right away.

His hands cupped your face then, rough and warm, tilting it up so your eyes could meet his. His expression—God, it ached to see it. Eyes stormy, lips trembling, blood on his temple and tears at the corners of his lashes. “You don’t ever do that again,” he said fiercely. “You don’t ever trade yourself for me. I’d burn the all of Deep Space before I let them take you.

His arms wrapped around you again, so tight, like if he let go, you’d vanish. You didn’t know what the fallout of this would be. The mercs were dead or captured. The Farspace Fleet.

~~~

The room was quiet. Too quiet, considering the chaos just hours before. Caleb sat on the edge of the bed, shirt discarded, bruises blossoming over his ribs and side. His wound had been cleaned and sealed by the fleet’s AI-guided medical unit a few hours before. You stood a few steps away, hands clenched in front of you, unsure what to say. The TV softly played music from the living room. Your shirt was discarded as well, leaving you in your bra, allowing your patched-up wounds to breathe.

“You were willing to die to protect me,” Caleb said, finally, voice low. “Do you understand what that did to me?” You walked to him slowly, sliding between his knees. Your hands hovered over his shoulders, then touched, light as a breath, tracing the curve of his collarbone where a bruise was already forming.“I didn’t want to lose you,” you said. “I’ve lost you once already. I didn't want to lose you a second time.” His eyes closed. His hands reached for your waist, almost hesitant at first. But when you didn’t flinch, he held you tighter. His forehead dropped to your stomach.

“I thought I was going to hear you die,” he whispered, like a secret no one else was allowed to hear. “I thought they were going to take you from me and I couldn’t—” He broke off, breath catching. You ran your fingers through his hair gently, cradling his head. “You didn’t. I’m here. We’re here.” He stood slowly, lifting his hands to your face. His voice dropped to a near whisper. “You’re the one thing I can’t lose.”You reached up and touched the healing gash above his brow. “You didn’t lose me.” Silence settled in the air, thick with emotion.

And then, he kissed you.

Slow, desperate, and reverent. The kind of kiss that wasn’t about lust or impulse, but relief. The kind that said, I almost lost you and I’m never letting you go again. You melted into it, arms wrapping around him, holding him close, grounding both of you. His breath hitched. Yours did too. It wasn’t perfect. Your cheeks were tear-streaked, your hands still trembling from adrenaline. But nothing had ever felt more real.

“We’ll be okay,” he murmured.

You nodded. “We will. As long as I have you.”

He gave a small smile, tired but genuine. “You’ve always had me.”

[blushofeve]

ANIMATED LINES | myth 001.

──────── ⵌ LIGHTSEEKER ..

──────── ⵌ FORESEER ...

──────── ⵌ ABYSS WALKER ...

──────── ⵌ RELENTLESS CONQUEROR ...

──────── ⵌ FARSPACE COLONEL ...

listen …… it’s insane how much this game has consumed me. am I crying over hot fictional men ? yes. their lore is just heart wrenching. anyway ! I wanted to do their standard myth colours in my animated line collection. :’))) hope you like !

heads up, since these are soooo smolllll it’s better to save these via desktop !

blends : 001 / 002 / 003 / 004

read my pinned for usage rules !! like, reblog, and credit if you use :)

support me through ko-fi | more dividers →

[blushofeve]

literally the dream

building legos date interrupted by 3 hour make out session

[blushofeve]

Cam Girl 4

PART 1 & PART 2 & PART 3

pairing: Caleb x Cam girl!reader

summary: the progression of your relationship and finally filming a vid with caleb.

themes: the reader is a cam girl, strangers to lovers(?), sexual tension, sexual content, porn with plot, stalker Caleb, fluff, domestic fluff kinda? headlock sex, making a porno

word count: 3.3k

tags: @dummiebunny @mommymilkerssociety @slowburnmithy @itsmeaudrieee @cableswife @glitterykingdomangel @september-2121

A/N: This is not proofread, please let me know if there are any mistakes :)

ao3 - m.list - taglist

You awoke to sunlight spilling into your bedroom through the gaps in your curtain. Last night felt like a fever dream. You would’ve chalked it up to simply that if it wasn’t for the heavy arms wrapped around you and the light snoring in your ear. Your dress was nowhere to be seen, and so were Caleb’s clothes, leaving you both bare against your cotton sheets.

You debated getting up. If you did that, it meant Caleb would wake up too, and you’d have to have the awkward conversation about last night. If you didn’t, you’d still have that conversation, but you’d have more time to mentally prepare. Caleb shifted, pulling you from your thoughts and closer to him. "Mornin'," He murmured and pressed a kiss on your collarbone. A helpless smile curved your lips as you turned toward him. “Morning,” you whispered back, your fingers running up and down his arm.

You couldn't help it. Despite the absurdity of the situation, you couldn't deny your attraction to him. And not just physically. Yes, he did stalk you, but that issue could be addressed later. He propped himself up on one elbow, blinking the sleep from his purple eyes. “You’re even prettier when you wake up,” he said, wry and a little shy, he couldn’t believe he was really here. “You’re just saying that because you’re the only one who’s seen me like this.” He slipped his hand into yours. “Not true. I’ve seen you in almost every way except this one. I like it.” He squeezed your fingers.

Silence settled between you. Letting you hear the sounds of the busy city outside your window. You stared at your ceiling. Better get this over and done with, you thought. "Caleb." Your tone was serious. He let out a sigh, already knowing what you were going to say from the tone of your voice. "Yes?" Now it was your turn to sigh before speaking. “I keep thinking about… it. Last night. And how it started.” His jaw tensed. “I know... I did something wrong.” His voice carried a sombre tone. His hands loosened around you, and he propped himself up to fully look at you. You sat up too.

You could've melted right there and then. The way he looked at you resembled a puppy when it was being yelled at. The way his hair seemed to have a halo around it from the sunlight, his purple eyes, his lips still slightly swollen and marks and scratches on his body still red from the night before. God, he looked so perfect.

You blinked, a lump pressing at your throat. You’d thought about it, how thrilling and flattering it all felt, but how it wasn’t entirely fair. Not really. “Yeah,” you said softly, running your hand through his hair, you couldn't help it. “You found me before I ever let you in. Or even knew you were looking.”

He met your eyes, emotion raw in his. “I shouldn’t have. The voice trace, the database search, showing up at the bar with the perfect excuse… That was—” He broke off, searching for the word. “Invasive. Obsessive.” He added, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it, “Selfish.” His expression twisted, and he began fidgeting with his fingers.

“I know it’s not justification, but… I don't know... There was just something about you. I liked who you were when you thought no one could see you. I like your voice, your body, your smile, and now your eyes and personality.” He hesitated, "I wanted to know you outside a screen. It got… obsessive. I wanted you to notice me, not just my username" He let out a heavy breath, forcing himself to look at you. “You can be mad. You should be. I'm sorry.”

You let the silence stretch before answering, voice barely above a whisper. “I am mad,” you admitted. “It scares me, how easy it was for you to find me. Like, none of my boundaries actually mattered.” You reached for your necklace to comfort yourself. “But… I’m also here. And I want to know if I can trust you now. Not just the guy behind Apple.Prince, but the one in my bed.”

Caleb's eyes lit up at the sign that you were willing to give him another chance. He sat up straighter, eagerness displayed clearly across his face. “You can. I swear it. Promise. Whatever you want—whatever pace, whatever boundaries—you set them. I just… want another chance to do this right.” Caleb nods quickly, reaching for your hand. “I hear you. I’m sorry. I want to prove I can be someone you trust.”

“I need time, Caleb.” The words are careful but true. “But for now, you’re here. And that’s a start.” Relief flickers across his face, cautious and grateful. He pressed his lips to yours, soft and gentle in quiet apology.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, barely above a breath.

You let yourself hold him, feeling how vulnerable he was, heart thudding wildly next to yours. No guarantees. But for the moment, sweetness, honesty, and difficult beginnings were enough.

~~~

The next few days, you barely saw each other. Being the Farspace Fleet's colonel was very demanding, and your job became 10 times busier as well. All this stress from work needed to be relieved, of course. Whenever you'd get the chance, you'd stream or record a video. Caleb was all there for it, commenting and donating like his life depended on it.

When you did have the chance to meet up, the tension from before melted into something more patient. Stolen kisses lasted longer; laughter came easier. Sometimes, you stayed up talking until sunrise, legs tangled on his couch, conversations drifting from simple to profound. Each time you caught him looking at you openly, you knew he was working hard to earn your trust.

Nearly a month in, you found a rhythm: learning each other out of bed, low-voiced talks over food Caleb cooked, shy smiles on video calls, legs tangled on opposite sides of a couch at 3am. It wasn’t simple, but it was yours.

Tonight, you sprawled across Caleb’s couch, legs in his lap, his thumbs gently drawing circles into your thigh as you scrolled through your phone. He wore sweatpants and an old band tee, a far cry from the intimidating Colonel you heard he was. He was watching you, but not in a way that felt invasive; more like you were the most interesting thing in the room.

You were looking at your own channel stats, biting your lip. “You know, people are starting to catch onto us now? They call you the ‘mystery regular’ in chat.” He grinned, squeezing your thigh. “Guilty as charged. "

You twisted to face him more fully. "You're my number one fan." You placed your hands on his cheeks and peppered kisses across his face.

He chuckled. "I'd say I'm more than that, no?"

“Really?” You mused. “Then what are we?” Although you had asked as a joke, the words felt impossibly vulnerable.

Caleb’s answer was quiet, hopeful, “Yours, if you’ll keep me.” Caleb took your hand to his lips, brushing a kiss across your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours.

"C'mon, pips," Caleb whined, pulling you closer, "please. I missed you so much." As you spent more time with each other, you came to realise that Caleb was very needy. If he wasn't busy with work, building aircraft models or cooking, he was glued to you. It gets worse if you post or stream while he's away on a mission; the moment he gets back, you're in for the night of your life.

Today was one of those days. Caleb had just returned from a mission the night before and hadn't left your side since. Last night, you had dismissed him, saying you were tired from work. That was a lie; you just loved seeing how desperate he got.

Caleb draped himself across you on the couch, arms locked securely at your waist, cheek pressed into your shoulder to keep you close. There was something shameless in the way he clung to you, like missing you had become a tangible, living thing gnawing at him from the inside.

“Just one kiss?” His lips brushed your jaw, kneading gently at your hip. “Or two, or three, whatever, I’ll take whatever you’ll give me, promise.” You tried to look stern, but laughter threatened at the corners of your mouth. “Caleb, you act like a puppy whose owner was gone for a year. It was barely five days.”

“Three days too long.” His voice came out breathy, a soft whine as his hand wandered from your waist to your lower back. You looked at him directly, messy hair, feverish eyes, the faintest blush spread across his face. The effect was difficult to resist. You pressed a quick kiss to his nose, then another, slower one to his lips. He sighed into it, his hands tightening.

“Missed you too,” you admitted. “That’s why I made you wait. Payback for those needy DMs while I was live.” This was something he always did. He grinned, a little feral and a little sheepish. “Unfair.”

You pulled him in for another kiss, then trailed your fingers down his chest. “You’re lucky you’re cute. Otherwise, I’d ban you from my channel.”

He gasped with mock offence, then nuzzled into the crook of your neck, voice almost reverent. “I’ll behave. Or at least pretend until you make me forget how.” You smiled and kissed him once again, this time deepening it.

You smiled into the kiss, feeling Caleb’s surprise melt instantly into eager, grateful warmth. His hands tightened at your waist, pulling you even closer until there was barely room for breath between you. The TV flickered in the background, forgotten. “You’re dangerous,” he murmured, his voice gentle and awed, like a confession.

“Only to you,” you teased, letting your finger trace shapes across his chest. The familiar ache of wanting him swept over your body. He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your lips once again, his voice now cracked and breath ragged. “I missed how real this feels.” He clearly had no intention of stopping now. The kiss quickly grew heated.

His breath hitched as your hand slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, fingertips grazing warm skin. Caleb’s lips moved with more urgency now, like he was starving, like five days without you had stretched into five years. And for him, it had. His kisses were clumsy and desperate, a far cry from the calculated way he’d first tried to seduce you. This was real. This was raw. This was Caleb, with nothing left to hide.

"Still mad at me?" he asked, voice breathless, as his hands travelled your sides like he was re-learning every curve. You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging gently to tilt his head toward yours.

"Mm. Maybe a little." You kissed his jaw, slow and indulgent. "But I like making you work for it."

He groaned softly. “You’re evil.”

“You love it.”

Caleb’s chuckle vibrated against your collarbone. “I do,” he whispered, almost reverently. “I really do.”

Clothes slipped away in pieces, forgotten somewhere between the floor and the edge of the couch. The weight of his body pressed into yours again, familiar and grounding.

Caleb began to trail kisses down your neck to your chest, and down your stomach. Your breath caught in your throat, watching him slip down lower and lower, and lower. He was so intoxicating. Your underwear was slipped off, but nothing followed. You looked back down at Caleb, noticing how he slowed, how his gaze lingered on your face. Not your body. You. The way your lips parted, the flush on your cheeks, the dazed wonder in your eyes. You laughed softly, brushing his hair from his forehead. “You’re staring.”

“Can you blame me?” He whispered, “You’re everything.”

And just like that, something in your chest cracked open. You cupped his face. “Wait,” you said, voice suddenly small.

He stilled immediately, concern flashing in his gaze. “Too much?”

“No.” You kissed him gently. “Not that. Just… we keep saying we’re figuring this out together, right?”He nodded, eyes scanning your face. You hesitated, then smiled. “So, let’s show them. My fans. Us. Not everything—just a glimpse. Something real.”

Caleb blinked. “You want to record a video?”

You shrugged, cheeks warm. “We don’t have to make it obvious. We can keep your face out of frame, obviously. Plus... I know you want to.” You climbed onto his lap, and Caleb's hands instinctively rested on your hips. "I can tell the comments I get annoy you. It would be fun to show them I'm yours. Don't you think?" You gently kissed his jaw and moved to his neck.

Caleb let out a shaky moan in response, and his hands tightened their grip. "R- really?" You nodded. The two of you moved to your room. You quickly turned on your camera. You suddenly got an idea. "Do you want me to put on one of the sets you bought me?" Caleb, who was sitting on your bed, looked at you in awe. "Yes. Definitely yes." You swear you saw his eyes light up in real time. Of course, you were excited too; this was something you had thought of for a while.

A few minutes later, you returned wearing a simple sheer, white babydoll set that had a little apple pattern all over it. As soon as he saw you, a light blush crept across his face. Caleb has always said it was his favourite. And it was clear by his reaction.

“You ready for the comments to go insane?” you teased. He grinned, eyes heavy-lidded with affection. “Bring it on.”

Then he kissed you—slow, deep, and hungry. You quickly escalated to where you left off, panties gone and Caleb between your legs, eating like his life depended on it. It does. As Caleb’s mouth moved against you with reverent urgency, your hands threaded through his hair, tugging gently each time he hit a spot that made your hips buck against his face. The camera—angled just right—was running now, a soft glow blinking on its stand. You could barely think about it through the haze of heat and tension, but the thought lingered.

Caleb looked up briefly, lips swollen, chin damp, gaze dark with need and adoration. He pressed a kiss just above your hip, murmuring, “You okay?” The tenderness in his voice cut straight through the rising pleasure.

“Yeah,” you breathed, heart thundering. “Better than okay.”

He smiled, boyish and disbelieving, and leaned up to kiss you again. The camera didn’t matter when his mouth was on yours, when his hands smoothed over your sides like you were something precious.

“Your fans,” he whispered between kisses, “are gonna lose their minds.” You laughed against his lips, drunk on affection and adrenaline. “That’s the point.”

His hands slipped behind your thighs, lifting you with ease and guiding you into his lap. You settled on top of him, your sheer set still clinging to your skin like a whisper. His sweatpants were discarded by now, and you were both bare, wrapped around each other in the dim glow of your lamps.

As you sank down on him slowly, both of you gasping at the contact, Caleb’s hands gripped your hips, hard enough that it would certainly leave a mark. But his eyes never left yours. Every thrust was met with a kiss, every moan muffled against your mouth or throat or chest. The camera caught only pieces—your silhouette in his arms, your breathy laugh when he whispered something filthy in your ear, the way your hand gripped his hair when you rode him harder.

You couldn't stop the lewd sounds coming from your mouth. Even if you wanted to, Caleb wouldn't let you. “Let them hear. I want them to know I’m real. That I’m the one who makes you sound like that.” Caleb's hands were everywhere, your hands on your neck, chest and hips.

Your rhythm picked up—grinding in circles, then rising and dropping, the pace building as his hands guided your hips. But then he stopped.

“Turn over,” he whispered against your mouth.

You obeyed, heart hammering, and felt his palm splay between your shoulder blades as he pressed back into you from behind, slow, deep, unrelenting. One hand gripped your hip, the other slipped beneath to toy with your clit, drawing out breathy moans that only made him go harder.

“You feel so good like this,” he murmured, teeth grazing your shoulder. “Like you were made for me.”

You tried to moan something in return—his name, maybe, but just a raw, wordless sound of need came out. It was hard to form any words with the way he was ramming into you. His hand covered yours as you reached back, lacing your fingers together.

Eventually, he pulled you up again, his arm curled around your neck in a headlock and your back pressed flat against his chest. You always admired his arms, so this was literal heaven for you.  His breath came hot and ragged against your ear as he cooed and teased at how dumb you'd gotten on his dick. "Poor baby. It's too bad your followers aren't going to see that fucked out expression on your face," he laughed, "It's fine. Only I should get to see it, because you're mine. Right?" You tried to respond only to let out more cries of pleasure.

His other hand returned to toying with your clit. He cupped your chin, guiding your head back against his shoulder, lips tracing your jaw, your throat, the sensitive patch just below your ear. He moved inside you, hips relentless and slow, finding that edge, drawing it out with every thrust, every sweet word muttered into your skin. You found yourself trembling, every nerve ending alight.

“Caleb, I'm— ” You choked out his name, desperate, greedy, lost. "I... fuck, me too. I'm so close." His moans became increasingly more desperate. Caleb's pace picked up, sending you farther into the depths of pleasure. "Inside... please.. want.. bad.." Now he failed to form coherent sentences. You nodded your head vigorously, barely hanging on.

You surged together then, pleasure cresting between your bodies, teeth grazing, fingers intertwined, souls laid bare. For a moment, you both lost yourselves—the world gone, nothing but the sound of breathing, the slap of skin, and the thrill of being seen for exactly who you were. You stilled, legs shaking, and Caleb buried deep in you, shuddering, making sure he emptied everything inside you.

Afterwards, you collapsed in a tangle of limbs. Caleb pressed a kiss to the top of your head, arms still wound so tightly around you, like he was afraid you might slip away. He brushed stray hair off your cheek and whispered, “That was so hot.”

You smiled, basking in the afterglow, voice soft and certain. “Extremely.”

As the camera’s blink faded into the quiet, you realised what you’d made together wasn’t just a show for your audience—it was a promise, messy and imperfect, but honest. For the first time in months, you felt the past loosening its grip. Maybe trust didn’t mend overnight, but you were both willing to try again. And that, for now, was enough.

Comments from your viewers the next day:

“Y’all didn’t just serve intimacy, you served pure desire. Hard to type with shaky hands… wow.”

“Have to admit, wasn’t expecting to get this worked up from you and another guy."

"That babydoll set, the hand in your hair, his voice—blushing so hard over here 👀💦"

“It’s not just spicy, it’s the way you both look like you need each other, with no shame."

How are we supposed to go back to regular streams after this?!"

"Please post more of these!!"  

divider credit: @sister-lucifer

[blushofeve]

gonna use these :)

Hii!

May I request for Hot pink + Black / Rainbow "Reblogs are appreciated!" Dividers? I love your work so much<3

🩷Reblog Dividers: Pink, Black, + Rainbow🩷

please like, reblog, & credit if you use!

[DIVIDER REQUESTS ARE OPEN!]

DNI: TERFS, endo, proship, pro ana, nazi, MAPs, zoophiles

tag list: @ghostboneswrites2 @savanaclaw1996 @lordhavemercyyyyy @emostrawrobbery @bloodythornsandskulls

[if you’d like to be on the tag list for dividers, please leave a message in my inbox]